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A FLEA 
 
 FAITHFUL RESTORATION 
 
 ancient Ct)urcl)es* 
 
 A PAPER READ BEFORE 
 
 THE ARCHITECTURAL AND ARCHAEOLOGICAL SOCIETY FOR 
 
 THE COUNTY OF BUCKS, AT THEIR FIRST ANNUAL MEETING IN 1848, 
 
 AND REPEATED 
 
 AT A JOINT MEETING OF THE ARCHITECTURAL SOCIETIES 
 
 FOR THE ARCHDEACONRY OF NORTHAMPTON 
 
 AND THE COUNTY OF BEDFORD IN 1S49. 
 
 TO WHICH ARE ADDED SOME 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS EEMARKS 
 
 ON OTHER SUBJECTS CONNECTED WITH THE RESTORATION 
 OF CHURCHES, AND THE REVIVAL OF POINTED 
 ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 GEORGE GILBERT SCOTT, Architect. 
 
 liontion : 
 
 .JOHN HENRY PARKE E, 
 
 S77 Strand, ash Broad Street, Oxford. 
 
 1850. 
 
LONDON: 
 Printed by G. IUuci.ay, Castle St. Leicester Sq. 
 
VERY REVEREND GEORGE PEACOCK, D.D., 
 
 DEAN OF ELY, 
 
 WHOSE ENLIGHTENED AND DEVOTED ZEAL IN THE RESTOR- 
 ATION OF THAT GLORIOUS TEMPLE AND RICH TREASURY 
 OF ANCIENT ART WHICH HAS SO HAPPILY BEEN PLACED 
 UNDER HIS GUARDIANSHIP, COMMANDS THE GRATITUDE 
 OF EVERY LOVER OF CHRISTIAN ARCHITECTURE; 
 THIS ATTEMPT 
 TO ADVOCATE, ON THE PART OF THOSE TO WHOSE CARE 
 SUCH SACRED BUILDINGS ARE COMMITTED, 
 THEIR FAITHFUL AND REVERENT CONSERVATION, 
 IS INSCRIBED 
 WITH VERY WARM FEELINGS OF RESPECT AND GRATITUDE, 
 AND WITH AN EARNEST HOPE THAT HE MAY BE BLESSED 
 WITH HEALTH AND LENGTH OF DAYS, AND WITH SUCCESS 
 IN CARRYING ON THAT GREAT WORK WHICH HAS LONG 
 BEEN ACTIVELY PROGRESSING UNDER HIS GUIDANCE. 
 
"There are two duties respecting national architecture whose importance 
 it is impossible to oven-ate : — The first, to render the architecture of the 
 day historical ; and the second, to preserve as the most precious of inherit- 
 ances that of past ages." — Ruskix : Lamp of Memory. 
 
ititrohirtinn^ 
 
 T'HE following paper, on " Paitliful Re- 
 -*- storation," was not written with an 
 idea of publication. Being a native of Buck- 
 inghamshire, I was requested to attend the 
 first annual meeting of the Architectural and 
 Archaeological Society for that county, and to 
 read a paper. I felt puzzled on what subject 
 to write ; but the restoration of our ancient 
 churches being a matter which occupied much 
 of my thoughts, and the reckless manner in 
 which it is too frequently carried out being, to 
 me, a continual source of grief and indignation, 
 I thought I might be doing some good if I 
 took advantage of the opportunity for making 
 an appeal on behalf of a more tender and con- 
 servative way of treating them. My paper was 
 
 B 
 
2 Sntrnhrtinn. 
 
 very hastily \mtten ; but being dictated, as I 
 hope, by some genuine warmth of feeling, it 
 was favourably received, and was, some months 
 afterwards, repeated, by request, at a meeting 
 of the Northamptonshire Society ; by some in- 
 dividual members of which, its publication was 
 kindly suggested, as likely to do some little 
 towards stemming the torrent of Destructive- 
 ness, which, under the title and in the garb of 
 " Restoration," threatens to destroy the truth- 
 fulness and genuine character of half of our 
 ancient churches. 
 
 I do not know that I should have ventured 
 upon appearing in print (otherwise than in the 
 columns of a newspaper), had not my feelings 
 on this subject been, from time to time, excited 
 afresh by being frequently, as one of the com- 
 mittee of examining architects for the Incor- 
 porated Society, called upon to inspect and 
 report upon the drawings for (so called) resto- 
 rations. It is difficult to conceive of the man- 
 ner in which, in many of these drawings, every 
 principle of restoration and every feeling of 
 respect for ancient examples is set at defiance ; 
 though, on visiting the churches which have 
 been subjected to the mis-named operation, I 
 have reason to fear we should find that the 
 
Sntrnkrtinn. 3 
 
 injuries inflicted, even exceed tliose threatened 
 by the draA^ings. 
 
 After reading my paper before the North- 
 amptonshire Society, a gentleman who had 
 been present came to me and expressed in 
 strong terms his agreement with the principles 
 I had contended for, illustrating what he said 
 by reference to a chm'ch in his own neigh- 
 bourhood which had been so completely altered 
 by the " restoring " process that no one could 
 recognise its identity. 
 
 The church in question had had a square 
 Norman western tower; but this, being in a 
 dilapidated condition, and funds not being 
 forthcoming for rebuilding it (though the pa- 
 rish, as I understood, belonged to one of the 
 most wealthy of the nobility), was taken down, 
 and a flimsy but somewhat dashing bell-tm-ret 
 of timber substituted for it, thus changing the 
 entu'e character of the building ; which was 
 further altered by necessary, but not perhaps 
 the most judiciously planned, additions. 
 
 From this description, I readily recognised 
 it to be a church on the plans of which, with 
 two of my coadjutors, I had made a very strong 
 Report when they were before the Incorporated 
 Society, and I subsequently learned that the 
 
4 Sntrnkrtinn. 
 
 suggestions urged in this Report had been set 
 aside through that kind of " pressure from 
 without " to AA'hich the committee is so con- 
 tinually subjected. 
 
 The frequent recurrence of cases somewhat 
 similar to this, has led me (certainly rather 
 after date) to venture my humble protest be- 
 fore the public, trusting that my demerits as 
 an author may be lost sight of in the import- 
 ance of the cause which I advocate. 
 
 I have observed an impression on the minds 
 of some, Avho have done much by their writings 
 to promote the revival of ecclesiastical archi- 
 tecture, that the generally received opinions on 
 the subject of restoration are already conser- 
 vative, even to the extent of pedantic servility, 
 and that what is most wanted is the diffusion 
 of more liberal and expanded views. This 
 error arises from looking more to what is said 
 and loritten than to what is actually done. It 
 may be that most restorers profess the faithful 
 conservation of the works committed to their 
 charge, and that they may even express them- 
 selves occasionally in favour of too lifeless and 
 servile a mode of treating them. But what is the 
 usual course which they practically follow, but 
 the very reverse of all this ? One part of the 
 
Stttrnhttinn. 5 
 
 chiu'ch is found to be in worse condition than 
 was expected, and having to be rebuilt, the 
 parties interested think that its design might be 
 improved — one of the windows is an eyesore to 
 the incumbent, or to some influential parish- 
 ioner, Avho has a favourite glossary pattern ever 
 running in his head, of which he ventures, 
 after a time, first to suggest, and then to urge 
 the substitution — there are no sedilia, and 
 they must be added ; or they are poor and 
 decayed, and their use being obsolete, it would 
 be needless to restore or preserve them — there 
 is an east window of an even number of lights, 
 which is contrary to the received canon ; or 
 the roof, though of high pitch, does not reach 
 the theoretical angle of sixty degrees, and 
 therefore requires correction — the ancient seats, 
 though massive and bold, are less refined 
 in their patterns than some other examples 
 which might be named — the font is rude, and 
 of earlier date than the chm-ch, and a neigh- 
 bour has offered a new one — the fragments of 
 stained glass and the few encaustic tiles which 
 remain, seem patchy, and puzzle the glazier 
 and the pavior to bring them in neatly — the 
 screens, though fine, are so massive as to ob- 
 struct the view, and must be removed ; or they 
 
6 Sntrnhrtinn. 
 
 are too simple in their pattern, and must be 
 replaced by better — or, finally, the tower is 
 discovered to be unsafe, and either there are 
 no funds to rebuild it, and a bell-cot must be 
 substituted ; or its design is inferior to that of 
 some of its neighbours, and must consequently 
 be improved; — and thus, little by Httle, the 
 conservative principle is departed from, till the 
 whole character and identity of the building 
 is changed, and as a genuine example it is 
 utterly lost ; while the restoration, which was 
 to have been conservative, proves at last to be 
 almost destructive, but is taken by neighbour- 
 ing restorers, who look up to its directors as 
 their oracles, and to this as the ne plus ultra 
 of restoration, as a precedent for still more 
 reckless innovations in their otmi churches. 
 
 The difficulty of carrying out a restoration 
 conservatively can hardly be imagined but by 
 those who are constantly aiming at it ; and 
 while I ventm-e forward as a champion of 
 conservatism, I cannot boast of having myself 
 carried out its principles to my own satis- 
 faction.* I feel, however, that it is the one 
 
 * Besides the absence of skill in authorsliip, a pro- 
 fessional architect is always under a disadvantage in 
 writing on any practical subject connected with his art, 
 
Sutrnkrtinn. 7 
 
 principle which needs to be constantly m*ged 
 and enforced, as the exceptions to which it is 
 open are of such a nature as, but too loudly, to 
 advocate their own cause, so that however 
 nicely and philosophically their theory may be 
 defined, it is but waste of time to do so, as 
 they are ever ready to be their own champions. 
 Since I thought of pubhshing the paper in 
 question, it has occurred to me to attach to it 
 some miscellaneous papers, chiefly made up 
 from detached scraps, which at different times 
 I have wTitten for my own. amusement, on 
 questions more or less directly arising out of 
 its subject.* I fear that, like the young 
 
 inasmuch as his own antecedents are ever at hand to 
 be thrown in his teeth as argumenta ad hoviinem against 
 eveiything he may urge. The non-professional writer, 
 like the architect who has yet to execute his first work, 
 comes in with the advantage of clean hands; having 
 done nothing, it follows that his principles cannot be 
 condemned by reference to his own failures. 
 
 * Mr. Freeman's masterly outline of the " History of 
 Architecture," came into my hands while I was writing 
 some, and before I had written others, of these mis- 
 cellaneous addenda ; so that some of them have had the 
 advantage which the perusal of such a work ought to 
 afford. Mr. Poole's very valuable and interesting " His- 
 tory of Ecclesiastical Architecture in England," and 
 Mr. Ruskin's " Seven Lamps of Architectm-e," I had 
 
8 Sntrnkrlinn. 
 
 architect, who is apt in his first work to con- 
 gregate together all his favourite bits and thus 
 to spoil the whole, I have fancied that, once 
 in the printer's hands, I had better say all I 
 have to say, lest I should not have a second 
 opportunity ; and I must confess it has made 
 both the arrangement, and the selection of a 
 
 not seen till they were finished — a piece of negligence 
 which I the less lament, as it enables me to see how far, 
 by an independent course, I have arrived at similar 
 conclusions ; and where this is not the case, to judge in 
 what degree any differences which exist are of an acci- 
 dental or an essential nature. Of Mr. Ruskin's work 
 it is not for me to give an opinion, as its praises are 
 in every one's mouth (it were well if its spirit were in 
 every one's heart) ; of the two former, I may, perhaps, 
 be permitted to say that they should be in the hands of 
 every student of architecture. 
 
 I must here apologize for my confused nomenclature. 
 I have never liked the Rickman terms, and remember, 
 years back, my unwillingness to fall in with them ; but 
 when one's moutli once gets moulded to a set of terms, it 
 is difficult to go through the same ordeal with another, 
 and as I am hardly satisfied with those now so often 
 substituted by those whose authority ought to command 
 respect, I have got rather intentionally into the way of 
 using the different sets of terms indiscriminately, as 
 they seem best to fit, hoping by thus sitting loose by 
 systems, to find myself more open to receive that which 
 may at length by common consent become general. 
 
Stttrahrtinn. 9 
 
 title, a serious puzzle to me. All I can plead 
 is, that I make no profession of authorship, and 
 that I shall not be very much dejected if my 
 unpractised essay meets with a rough recep- 
 tion or with silent contempt ; and I will only 
 suggest to my readers (if I have any) that 
 should they find what I have written to be 
 dull, they will not trouble themselves to pro- 
 ceed with it, excepting only my appeal on 
 behalf of our ancient churches, which I hope 
 will be read for their sake, though not for 
 my owTi. 
 
 Avenue Boad, Regetit's Park, London, 
 Jan. 1850. 
 
 b2 
 
A PAPER 
 
 READ BEFORE THE 
 
 33udkmg]^ams]&ir£ ^rcfiitcctural anb Archaeological 
 ^ocietp, 
 
 At their First Annual Meeting, 27th July, 1848. 
 
 HAVING been kindly invited to attend on 
 this very interesting occasion, and to con- 
 tribute some trifle towards the probably akeady 
 overflowing fund of subjects to be brought be- 
 fore the meeting, I have felt myself not a little 
 embarrassed to determine how I could comply 
 with the latter part of the invitation in a 
 manner which would be either interesting or 
 useful. 
 
 It may at first sight appear that no one 
 
12 /nitjiftil Erstnrntinn 
 
 ought to be better able to aid the researches 
 of an arcJiitectural society, than an architect; 
 and, certainly, if one such society presents 
 greater facilities and has stronger claims than 
 others upon his co-operation, it would be a 
 society whose labours are connected with his 
 native county, and with the very buildings to 
 which he traces the earliest and most cherished 
 of his architectural associations. 
 
 It is, however, one of the disadvantages of 
 the profession of architecture that, though in its 
 own natiu*e highly imaginative, and though it 
 presents a wide field for romantic associations, 
 for antiquarian research, and for philosophical 
 investigation, its actual practice is of necessity 
 so material in its character, and so intimately 
 connected with the ordinary business of life, 
 that the architect himself is usually the very 
 last person to give verbal expression to the 
 sentiment or the philosophy of his art ; and 
 whatever may be his inward feelings, he sel- 
 dom rises externally above the ordinary level 
 of the man of business : he is, therefore, gene- 
 rally wiser to leave the literature of archi- 
 tecture to those whose habits of study and 
 of thought enable them more worthily to 
 handle it. 
 
nf %nnn\ (l^liErrjirs. 13 
 
 With this apology, I beg leave to trouble 
 you with a few very crude thoughts on what 
 appears to me to be one of the most important 
 practical objects of this and similar societies, 
 t/ie conservation and restoration of those in- 
 valuable rehcs of Christian art which have 
 been so wonderfully preserved to us in almost 
 every village throughout om* land, — relics but 
 for Avhich we should now be ignorant of the 
 most remarkable phase which Art has ever yet 
 assumed, — the only form in which it has suited 
 itself to the pure and ennobling sentiments 
 of our religion, and, in our national variety of 
 it, the only form which is adapted to oiu* 
 climate and our traditional associations, and 
 every vestige of which, however simple or 
 homely it may be, has the strongest claims 
 upon our reverence and care. 
 
 An old church is so common and so familiar 
 an object that we are often in danger of for- 
 getting its value, and it is only by cultivating 
 a correct appreciation of what om* chm'ches 
 really are that we shall obtain a true and 
 earnest feeling for their conservation. 
 
 There can be no doubt that it is in the 
 nature of things that the spirit of every form 
 of religion, whether true or false, should be 
 
14 /aitjifiil UrsiamtiDtt 
 
 strongly symbolized iii the architecture of its 
 temples. This has been clearly exemplified 
 among pagan communities ; and as under the 
 early dispensation of our holy religion, God 
 himself especially directed the pattern of every- 
 thing, both in the migratory Temple of Moses 
 and in the more permanent structure of Solo- 
 mon, it does not appear presumptuous to 
 imagine that the same influence may have 
 been, though indii-ectly, exercised over the rise 
 and developemeut of the architecture of the 
 Christian Church ; and I cannot help thinking 
 that Christian architectm'e would have earlier 
 reached some glorious devclopcment of its own, 
 had not the spirit of religion itself been weighed 
 down by the heresies and corruptions which 
 invaded it. 
 
 Dming the pm^est ages of Christianity we 
 cannot look for a developemeut of architecture 
 peculiarly her own, inasmuch as the Church 
 was under persecution and oppression, and 
 was rather in the position of Israel while 
 labouring in the brick-kilns of Egypt, than 
 when, in the days of their glory, they enlisted 
 the aid even of their heathen neighbours in 
 he^ving costly stones and goodly cedars, and 
 in working in brass, in silver, and in gold, for 
 
nf Slnmnt CljurrjiBs. 15 
 
 building and beautifying the house of their 
 God.* 
 
 When the Church was at length placed in a 
 position to act with freedom, one style of archi- 
 tecture, and that a style originated under 
 paganism, pervaded the civilized world; and 
 even this had already declined from its earlier 
 perfection. It was not, therefore, to be ex- 
 pected that Clnristianity should at once sweep 
 away what existed, and substitute an archi- 
 tecture of her own; she did, however, com- 
 mence a wonderful developement. The heathen 
 temples, being for the most part unsuited for 
 Christian use, were abandoned ; and the Basi- 
 licas, a class of buildings purely secular in 
 their intention, and therefore comparatively 
 free from the pollution of idolatry, and, more- 
 over, marvellously suited, as if by an overruling 
 Providence, to the uses of Christian worship, 
 were taken both to be actually used as churches 
 and to serve as the first model or nucleus 
 
 * Modern men," says Mr. Pugin, " are constantly re- 
 ferring to the Church in her sutfering state, described 
 by oui- Lord under the similitude of a grain of mustard- 
 seed, while they refuse to recognise her when, as the 
 greatest of all trees, she extended, triumphant in beauty 
 and luxuriant foliage, over the earth." 
 
16 /aitjiftil lUstnratinii 
 
 upon which the architecture of the Church (at 
 least in her western provinces) was to be 
 founded.* The noble Christian Basihcas 
 which still remain show how great were these 
 early strides towards a Christian style. (See 
 Note A.) In the East a more independent 
 course was taken, and a style was early gene- 
 rated, both strictly Christian and well-suited 
 to the chmate and habits of the countries 
 where it originated. 
 
 That neither in its eastern nor its western 
 type did the architectui'e of the Church continue 
 long to progress towards its perfection, may, I 
 think, be fairly attributed to internal rather 
 than to external causes ; to the corruptions 
 which chilled the life of Christianity, rather 
 than more dii-ectly to the barbarians who 
 invaded her dominions. In the Western 
 Church, at least, it is certain that this pro- 
 gression met with an early check, and that 
 from the fifth to the eleventh century, art, like 
 
 * There are, of course, exceptions, as is probably the 
 case with the earlier churches of Ireland, which seem to 
 date earlier than the Basilicau type ; and it is probable 
 that the tendency among British churches to the square 
 east end, rather than the apse, arose from the influence 
 of this earlier type. 
 
nf ^lnrirEt Clmrrliri 17 
 
 the nations which practised it, sank into a mere 
 incongrnous union of the Roman iron with the 
 Gothic clay, and showed but feeble traces of 
 that nobler spirit, which was destined subse- 
 quently to quicken it into new life ; and it 
 appears to me that the extraordinary revival of 
 art which commenced with the second millen- 
 nary of Christianity, and which originated 
 pointed arcJiifecfiire, was in fact nothing else 
 than the Christian element, so long repressed, 
 at length bursting forth, and giving itself ex- 
 pression at a time certainly of revived zeal and 
 devotion, and not as a consequence of, but in 
 spite of, the errors which still clouded theChm'ch. 
 
 That a developement of art so pre-eminently 
 Christian should have been so soon withdraw^n, 
 is a mystery which it is not for me to solve. 
 It may be that, like the dove upon the still 
 deluged earth, it found no fit resting-place, 
 and that it retired for a time, leaving behind 
 its marvellous creations to be taken as models 
 in some distant but happier age, and possibly 
 to form but the nucleus of some still pm*er 
 and nobler developement. 
 
 Should this be a correct view, what interest 
 and importance does it attach to the remains 
 of medieval architecture with which our land 
 
18 /nitjifiil Erstnrntinn 
 
 is so thickly studded, and what responsibihty 
 does it throw upon those to whom their 
 preservation is committed ! Every ancient 
 church, however simple and rustic, must then 
 be view^ed as a portion of the material of 
 Christian art, — as one stone set apart for the 
 foundation of its revival. 
 
 If this wonderful form of art has been 
 generated, and carried by an inexplicable 
 chain of circumstances through an infinity 
 of changes, each producing new beauties of 
 its own ; if specimens of all these varieties 
 have been preserved to us by Providence 
 through three centuries of contemptuous neg- 
 lect, that they may form the groundwork for 
 the Christian architecture of the future; and 
 if by the same overruling Providence there has 
 arisen, spontaneously^ at different jjlaces, and in 
 the minds of individuals having had no mutual 
 intercourse, a secret revived feeling of love and 
 veneration for these long-neglected buildings,* 
 
 * It is grievous to think that the agents in this great 
 work should so often disagree among themselves, and 
 that, failing to perceive that each naturally takes up 
 with that phase of the subject for which his fciste and 
 inclination best suit him, each often despises or inveighs 
 against the others because they happen not to take 
 
— a feeling which, though beneath the surface, 
 anticipated by several years that revived 
 energy of the Church itself which has since 
 called it into visible action ; ought not those 
 to whom the conservation of these buildings is 
 committed, and we whose privilege it is to 
 direct their restoration, to exercise our duties 
 with a reverential care, lest while restoring 
 them to a state of seemly reparation we should 
 obliterate or alter their ancient details, lest 
 while repairing the casket we lose the jewel it 
 
 exactly the same view of it with himself. Individuals 
 may prefer the historical, the antiquarian, the purely 
 sesthetic, or the ritual branch of the subject ; to those 
 who perceive how essential to the revival is the success- 
 ful investigation of all these branches, it is as mar- 
 vellous as it is melancholy to see how frequently those 
 who follow up one or the other of them, affect a con- 
 tempt for, and speak with ill-disguised bitterness and 
 distrust of, those who are studying the subject with 
 equal zeal, but more exclusively, in some other of its 
 branches. The promoters of the revival, instead of 
 being a firmly united body, dividing by mutual consent 
 the great work among them, and each gratefully ac- 
 knowledging the labours of his fellows, are now cut up 
 into an infinity of little parties, each knowTi by some 
 party-badge, the absence of which is held sufiicient 
 ground for the exclusion of the others from their 
 sympathy or confidence. 
 
20 /nitljfttl fvdnrntinti 
 
 contains ? A jewel not handed down for our 
 use only, but given us in trust, that we may 
 transmit it to generations having more know- 
 ledge and more skill to use it aright.* 
 
 it is one of the most discouraging features in 
 the revival which has happily commenced among 
 us, that we are so ready from learners to he- 
 Q,om& judges ; and not only to judge the works 
 which rise around us, but actually to sit in 
 judgment upon those very works of whose first 
 principles we were but yesterday in the most 
 utter ignorance, and of which we as yet possess 
 a very limited appreciation. In nothing is 
 this want of humility seen so much as in 
 church restoration. Nearly every restorer has 
 his favourite style, or some fancy notion, to 
 which he wishes to make everything sub- 
 servient ; and it is a most lamentable fact, 
 that there has been far more done to oblite- 
 rate genuine examples of pointed architecture, 
 
 * In taking more especially this particular view of 
 the claims of our ancient churches upon our reverent 
 care, I do not, hy any means, exclude the many others 
 which would lead to the same conclusion. Whether we 
 take the historical, the archaeological, the artistic, or the 
 religious view of the question, the result must, if duly 
 worked out, he the very same. 
 
nf ^Inrirat (C^jjurrjirs. 21 
 
 by the tampering caprices of well-meant resto- 
 rations, than had been effected by centuries 
 of mutilation and neglect. A restored church 
 appears to lose all its truthfulness, and to 
 become as little authentic, as an example of 
 ancient art, as if it had been rebuilt on a new 
 design. The restorer too often preserves oyily 
 just what he fancies, and alters even that if it 
 does not quite suit his taste. He adds what 
 features his caprice dictates and removes such 
 as do not happen to please him, without the 
 smallest consideration that the building should 
 be treated with more veneration than if it had 
 been erected yesterday. It is against this 
 system of so-called restoration, a system which 
 threatens to deprive us of all authentic examples 
 of the humbler forms of this sacred art, that I 
 wish to take this opportunity of protesting. 
 
 It is much to be regretted that so highly 
 influential a body as the Ecclesiological Society 
 should have given an indirect sanction to this 
 system of radical restoration, by the very un- 
 happy discussion which took place at their 
 annual meeting in 1 847, in which the different 
 members severally announced their adherence 
 to what had been rather whimsically distin- 
 guished by a very talented writer in the 
 
22 /aitjifiil Erstnrfltiatt 
 
 " Ecclesiologist " as the " Conservative," the 
 " Destructive," and the " Eclectic" systems of 
 restoration.* If such unguarded conversa- 
 tions must take place, it would be better that 
 they should be in private, that their influence 
 may be confined to a narrower limit, and that 
 the thoughtless remarks of individuals may 
 not, however contrary to their intention, be 
 made excuses for irreverent latitudinarianism. 
 
 I am aware that the advocates of the system 
 which is designated by the name of " de- 
 structive," plead the example of the medieval 
 architects, who, disdainful of past, and discon- 
 tented with present attainments, were ever 
 earnestly pressing after new developements of 
 their art, and sometimes destroyed, to make 
 
 * I -would beg to refer for the origin of these terms 
 to a very able and interesting review which appeared in 
 the "Ecclesiologist" for May, 1847, of Mr. Freeman's 
 equally able and interesting paper on "Restoration." 
 The unlucky conversation I have alluded to, arose from 
 tills review. It was, probably, so far as the " destructive" 
 opinions went, intended in a serai-jocose sense ; but the 
 propounders of such notions must have underrated the 
 influence of what passes at their meetings ; — what they 
 said has by many been taken in earnest, and their jokes 
 have thus become no laughing matter. I believe that 
 no such opinions are now for a moment entertained by 
 any of the gentlemen I refer to. 
 
room for them, the beautiful works of their 
 predecessors ; * and that they maintain, that as 
 the buildings we have to deal with are the 
 houses of God, we ought to do the very best 
 that our knowledge of art and the funds at 
 our disposal will admit, without reference to 
 historical or antiquarian associations ; so that, 
 if we assmne the comparative perfection of 
 one of the varieties of pointed architecture, we 
 shall not be open to blame if we destroy fea- 
 tures of other styles for its admission. If such 
 arguments need to be combated, the fact that 
 were they fully carried out, we should lose 
 three-fom'ths of the most interesting of our 
 ancient churches, and that a difference of 
 
 * This was, however, far from being their universal 
 practice, as may be seen from the adaptation of the 
 later parts of cathedrals, &c., especially on the Con- 
 tinent, to the earlier portions. In Westminster Abbey, 
 the western portions, built in the fifteenth centuiy, har- 
 monise in their leading forms with those of the eastern 
 parts, which were completed in the thirteenth ; and 
 on the north side of the cloister, the three original 
 bays, belonging to the last-mentioned century, have been 
 copied, not only in leading features, but even in their 
 mouldings and details, in the two bays which complete 
 that side, and that by the same architect who was 
 building the south and west sides in the perpendicular 
 style. 
 
24 hW^hl IxrstnrntiDn 
 
 opinion, however slight, among restorers, as to 
 which was to be the favoured variety, would 
 render that destruction universal, may be 
 sufficient for its refutation. 
 
 Our position is, in fact, ioially distinct from 
 that of the ancient architects. They had been 
 led by Providence to originate a new and 
 wonderfully beautiful style of art, suited be- 
 yond any which had before existed to the uses 
 of the church. This style they were impelled 
 by a marvellous and almost superhuman zeal 
 to dilate into the greatest possible amount of 
 variety. This earnest pressing forward after 
 new developements, and the noble emulation 
 which existed between the different ecclesiasti- 
 cal bodies and lodges of Freemasons, led to a 
 ceaseless and rapid series of changes, each 
 adopted not in addition to, but to the exclusion 
 of, its predecessors. 
 
 Pointed architecture came into existence, not 
 in the weakness of infancy, but like a new and 
 heaven-born principle ; it proceeded through 
 a sm-prisingly rapid com-se, constantly assum- 
 ing new forms, each in perfect consistency with 
 its exalted principles, and ever throwing aside 
 those which had been once developed and 
 made use of, till it attained the highest pitch 
 
of beauty and glory. It proceeded still in its 
 untiring coui'se, generating ever new and vary- 
 ing beauties ; and even when it began to show 
 symptoms of declination, it still retained this 
 wonderful facility of production, so that its 
 downward course is found to be graced with 
 an endless variety of elegancies which have 
 rendered it illustrious even in its decay. 
 
 To this principle of exclusive developement 
 may be attributed both the richness and the 
 decay of Christian art ; and while this, among 
 other causes, may have led to the early ter- 
 mination of its career, we owe to the same 
 cause that almost inexhaustible stock of beau- 
 ties which it has left us to work upon, — a 
 stock which would be incomplete if deprived 
 of the contributions of any one of the periods 
 which have produced it. 
 
 Our own position is manifestly and totally 
 different ; we have not originated a new style, 
 but are called upon to re -awaken one which 
 has for centuries lain dormant ; and it is 
 absurd to argue that, because those who ori- 
 ginated it did not scruple, dming its progress, 
 at destroying specimens of the earlier varieties, 
 to make way for what they thought better, we 
 are equally free to destroy their works to make 
 
 c 
 
26 /flitjjfnl lUstnrntinii 
 
 way for our own. It is from these works that- 
 we learn all Ave know of Christian architecture, 
 and shall the first-fruits of our discipleship be 
 the destruction of the works of oui' masters, 
 where they do not chance to agree Anth some 
 ideal standard of om* own ? Rather should we 
 view the remains of the whole range of pointed 
 architecture, whether in its earher or later 
 forms, in its humbler or more glorious examples, 
 as the one vast treasury of Christian art, Avonder- 
 fully produced, and as Avonderfully preserved 
 for our use ; as a chain, ever^ link of Avhich is 
 necessary to its future uses ; as a Avreath, noAv 
 faded and disarranged, but every flower of 
 which, Ave may hope, is destined to revive, 
 and to be woven anew, by hands more skilful 
 than our oAvn. 
 
 While, however, I Avould aaisIi to lay it 
 doAvn as a rule, that " Conservatism'' should 
 be the great object — the very key-note of 
 Restoration, I Avould freely admit that it is 
 not in the nature of things that it can be 
 strictly acted up to. (See Note B.) If admit- 
 ted, however, as a rule, it will impart its tone 
 even to the exceptions. (See Note C.) Its 
 more or less perfect realization should be the 
 object at Avhich every church restorer should 
 
nf Mm\ Cjinrrjirs. 37 
 
 aim ; the antagonistic, or rather the defensive 
 principle, by which cold practical expediencies 
 on the one hand, and love of fancied improve- 
 ment on the other, should be restrained and 
 kept in check.* 
 
 No one, however, who has not tried it, 
 knows how easy it is to admit the principle, 
 but how difficult practically to realize it. How- 
 ever earnest the restorer may be in his con- 
 servatism, he will find that in practice he is 
 often compelled to fall short of it — "Destruc- 
 tiveness" and "Eclecticism" need no advocates: 
 
 * Some persons object to the principles here laid 
 down, as putting a curb upon " Genius /" What would 
 they think of a modern editor of Shakspeare or Milton 
 feeling it necessaiy to display his " genius " by making 
 improvements of his own? Sui'ely Eestoration is not 
 the field for the exhibition of genius ! It calls forth 
 the exercise of mind and judgment, and sometimes even 
 of imagination, but eveiy wish to display individual 
 genius or invention should be banished from the mind 
 of the restorer ; he should forget himself in his venera- 
 tion for the works of his predecessors. Restoration 
 often calls for the highest exercise of the talent of the 
 architect, and is not unfrequently far more difficult and 
 laborious than making a new design ; and he may safely 
 trust to the legitimate exercise of his intellect being 
 appreciated, without wishing to risk the truthfulness of 
 his work by giving scope to his own invention. 
 
28 /aitjifiil lUstnmtinn 
 
 cold and heartless as they are, they are always 
 ready to argue for themselves; and practical 
 difficulties and necessities, even in the absence 
 of any love of change, are ever at hand to 
 back them. Those who take the trouble to 
 defend them can have had but little experience, 
 or they would see that their advocacy is need- 
 less. It is " conservatism" which is in con- 
 stant need of a firm defender ; not a blind 
 advocate who defends all that is of necessity 
 ri^/it, but one who keeps constantly in view 
 the preservation of the sacred rehcs of Christian 
 art, and who, if he sees it expedient to restore 
 an early form at the cost of removing a later 
 one, or to remove early features from some 
 inevitable necessity, does so w ith pain ; and 
 if unavoidably called upon to be "destructive" 
 or " eclectic," knows how to instil w^armth 
 and feeling even into those chilly elements, 
 and to make them bend to the tone and cha- 
 racter of the building he is treating. 
 
 I have occupied so much time in the theo- 
 retical view of the subject, that I can say but 
 little upon its practical bearings ; indeed the 
 questions which arise from chm'ch restoration 
 are so ever varying, as to be incapable of any 
 definite rules for theii- solution, and much 
 
nf 5liinrnt Clmrtliri 29 
 
 more Avill be done by cultivating the right tone 
 of feeling, than by attempting to lay down any 
 practical laws for its exercise. 
 
 In a county like this, where population is 
 not subject to rapid increase, and where the 
 churches do not usually need enlargement, the 
 conservative course need comparatively seldom 
 be departed from, though it cannot rightly 
 be followed without a very intimate practical 
 knowledge of the subject. The great danger 
 in all our restorations is doing too much ; and 
 the great difficulty is to know wliere to stop. 
 An ordinary practical man, for instance, will 
 often condemn a chm'ch roof or wall, with as 
 little ceremony as if it belonged to some farm 
 building, while one who duly appreciates them 
 would know how to repair or to reconstruct 
 them without losing their design, or even their 
 identity. Even entire rebuilding, if necessary, 
 may be effected conservatively, preserving the 
 precise forms, and often much of the actual 
 material and details of the original ; and it is 
 often better effected hy degrees, and without a 
 fixed determination to carry it tlu'oughout, 
 than if commenced all at once. 
 
 As a general rule, it is highly desirable to 
 preserve those vestiges of the growth and his- 
 
30 /aitiifnl llrBtnratiaii 
 
 tory of the building whicli are indicated by 
 the various styles and ii-regularities of its parts ; 
 they often add interest to a church in other 
 respects poor; they frequently add materially 
 to its picturesque character ; and nearly always 
 render it more valuable as a study. This rule 
 is, hoAvever, open to many exceptions ; and it 
 is here, perhaps, more than on any other ques- 
 tion, that a sound judgment and freedom from 
 caprice is needed. In some cases the later 
 are the more valuable and beautiful features ; 
 but in these the architect of true feeling will 
 be very unwihing to obliterate earlier features, 
 however simple or even rude, to bring them 
 into uniformity with more ornamental addi- 
 tions. Indeed it may be laid down as a rule, 
 that some vestige at the least of the oldest 
 portions should be always preserved, as a proof 
 of the early origin of the building. In other 
 cases, some one of the earlier styles claims the 
 finest and most beautiful features, but it by no 
 means follows that later parts should be re- 
 moved, even though they may infringe upon 
 finer forms : in some instances, however, this 
 may seem to be desirable, particularly when, 
 as is often the case, the later portions are 
 themselves decayed, and the earlier may be 
 
nf Mini CjittrrjirH. 31 
 
 restored with absolute certainty. It may, 
 however, be assumed as a rule, that an au- 
 thentic feature, though late and poor, is more 
 worthy than an earlier though finer part con- 
 jecturally restored — a plain fact, than an orna- 
 mental conjecture. (See Note D.) Above all, I 
 would urge that individual caprice should be 
 wholly excluded from restorations. Let not 
 the restorer give undue preference to the re- 
 mains of any one age, to the prejudice of 
 another, merely because the one is, and the 
 other is not, his own favourite style. 
 
 Where details are lost, such as the tracery 
 of a window, a gable cross, or other feature, 
 let them not be restored from mere conjecture 
 or fancy ; but if portions cannot be found to 
 give a clue to their reproduction, let hints be 
 searched for from churches of correspondhig 
 age in the same neighbourhood. It is mar- 
 vellous to see how indications are often neg- 
 lected from which lost features might be in- 
 ductively traced out, or the original with a 
 very little trouble be discovered. Capricious 
 restorers are sometimes actually glad to have 
 lost an ancient detail, as an excuse for intro- 
 ducing some favourite morsel from Bloxham 
 or the Glossary ! I was sorry some time back, 
 
32 /nitljfnl lUstnmtinu 
 
 when on a visit to tlie beautiful little cliurcli 
 at Wimmington, to see a new and eccentric 
 gable cross, copied from one of these most 
 excellent though often misused publications, 
 while the original cross, one of great beauty, 
 w^as built into the wall of a shed close to the 
 churchyard ! 
 
 \Vlien any part of the walls have to be taken 
 down, every piece of wrought stone found im- 
 bedded in them should be carefully set aside, 
 as from these the most valuable authority for 
 the restoration of earlier parts is often obtained. 
 In removing the whitewashing from the walls or 
 paint from the woodwork care shoidd be taken, 
 if possible, not to destroy specimens of decora- 
 tive painting which may be discovered. (See 
 Note E.) I believe that, with the careful co- 
 operation of the clergyman, these might often be 
 preserved or restored, while without this, every 
 effort of the architect for their preservation will 
 be useless. The same may be said of encaustic 
 tiles, and fragments of stained glass or of an- 
 cient ironwork,* which almost inevitably vanish 
 
 * I should have added, also, of brasses, monumental 
 slabs, grave crosses, &c., and of course of tombs and 
 efi&gies of a higher class. These should never, if it can 
 be avoided, be removed from their proper positions. As 
 
nf 2nmi CjjttrtjitB. 33 
 
 during a general restoration, unless the cler- 
 gyman takes tlie care of tliem upon himself. 
 In the same way fragments of old seating and 
 screenwork, and many other interesting and 
 valuable relics, may be found and used as 
 models for new work, if there is a person always 
 on the spot to search for and preserve them. 
 
 An architect may lay do^Mi a most perfect 
 and judicious system of restoration, but it can 
 seldom be perfectly carried out i?i spirit, if 
 even in the letter, without the constant co- 
 operation of the clergyman. The practical 
 workman detests restoration, and wdll always 
 destroy and renew rather than preserve and 
 restore, so that an antagonistic influence ought 
 always to be at hand. AVhere any of the an- 
 cient seats or other woodwork remain, they 
 ought to be carefully preserved and repaii-ed, 
 though, perhaps, rough and plain ; and their 
 patterns should be generally followed for the 
 remaining seats, though it is possible that finer 
 examples might be found elsewhere. If none 
 
 regards monumental effigies, tlie restoration of which, 
 when defaced, presents such extreme difficulty, too great 
 praise cannot he awarded to the skill and care evinced 
 by Mr. E. Richardson in the restoration of those in the 
 Temple church, at Elford, and many others. 
 
 c2 
 
34 /flitljful i\r0tnratinn 
 
 remain, it is better to follow some suitable pat- 
 terns from neighbouring cluuches, than to make 
 new designs or copy those of another district. 
 
 I will not, however, trespass further upon 
 the indulgence of the meeting with these 
 practical details, which, to be properly treated, 
 should be made the subject of a separate paper, 
 but will just mention one other subject which, 
 though open to many exceptions, deserves much 
 consideration, — I mean the inexpediency of 
 needlessly altering the general aspect and tra- 
 ditional character which has for ages distin- 
 guished a church from those of neighbouring 
 places, and by which it has become known to 
 the inhabitants. Mr. Petit remarks on this 
 subject : — 
 
 " There are few of om* parish churches that 
 have not a certain individual character, as im- 
 possible to define, but as easy to recognise, as 
 the features of a countenance ; this the tide of 
 modern architecture threatens to overwhelm, 
 to bring all indiscriminately to one standard 
 and level. I woidd ask, Is the moral effect 
 produced by this sweeping system beneficial ? 
 Is it either kind or prudent to disregard that 
 admonitus loconwi, which may exercise a more 
 powerful influence than we imagine in attach- 
 
nf Slnmnt Cjinrrliri 35 
 
 ing our country men botli to their Church and 
 institutions ? " 
 
 Restorations and necessary enlargements 
 must, more or less, infringe upon this tradi- 
 tional aspect of om' churches ; but I am con- 
 vinced that the extent of such infringement 
 may always be kept within bounds, and that 
 the degree in which it is avoided is {cateris 
 paribus) a fair criterion of the skill of the re- 
 storer. With this view it is often preferable 
 to retain reminiscences of the age of Elizabeth, 
 of James, or of the martyred Charles, rather 
 than to sweep away, as is now the fashion, 
 everything which dates later than the Reform- 
 ation. 
 
 There is not time to enter upon the wide 
 field which would be opened by the questions 
 arising from additions or unavoidable altera- 
 tions, much less upon the more dubious ground 
 of improvements, raising the architectm^al cha- 
 racter from a humbler to a higher grade. The 
 former may always, I am convinced, be effected 
 on conservative principles, and should seldom, 
 perhaps, be in a style quite so early as the 
 oldest parts of the building, unless the church 
 contains nothing anterior to the fourteenth 
 
36 /iiitjifiil llrstnrntinn 
 
 century.* The latter I would by no means 
 pronounce to be in all cases inadmissible, 
 though I must suggest that it is dangerous 
 ground, and, as a general rule, to be shunned. 
 I must crave your kind indulgence for the 
 needless length to which, for want of time to 
 rewrite and skill to condense, I have extended 
 these remarks; and for the very imperfect 
 state in which they leave the more practical 
 portions of my subject. I will beg leave to 
 
 * The style to be selected for additions is one of the 
 most difficult questions, and must dejpend mainly on the 
 circumstances of each individual case. I think there 
 can scarcely be a case which would excuse a Norman 
 addition, whatever we may say to restoring lost features 
 in that style, in a building in which this is the general 
 character. The early pointed is seldom a style which 
 seems suited to an addition, though I would not lay 
 this down as an invariable rule ; its exclusion of mul- 
 lioned windows appears to put a check upon that free 
 consideration of convenience which seems implied in 
 the idea of an addition. " The early middle pointed," 
 or " geometrical" style, seems well suited for additions 
 to buildings of its own or earlier date, though the date 
 of flowing variety is by no means to be excluded. To a 
 building essentially of the later pointed styles, I confess 
 that it seems to me pedantic to make additions in a 
 style of earlier date, merely because we claim it as the 
 
nf ^Inritnt Cjiurrlirij. 37 
 
 conclude by quoting a portion of some very 
 appropriate lines, given by Mr. Petit in his 
 chapter on Restorations, and which were sug- 
 gested by the then contemplated restoration of 
 Barfreston church, — a work happily since com- 
 pleted, in a manner * which, had the T\Titer 
 been able to foresee, would have deprived us 
 of the effusion which his fears dictated : — 
 
 adopted style of our owu day. We naturally aud justly 
 connect the styles with their order in point of date ; 
 indeed, the most recent system of nomenclature takes 
 this as its essential principle, and it goes against our 
 involuntary feelings of propriety to make an early addi- 
 tion to a late building. This is the case, a fortiori, 
 when the proposed style of the addition is earlier than 
 the known date oi Xhe foundation of the building added 
 to, as would be the case with Wykham's or Waynfleet's 
 colleges, or the chapels of King's College or of Eton ; in 
 the latter of which Mr. O'Connor has, I think, erred in 
 putting a painted window in a style earlier by a centiuy 
 than the date of the founder. This objection, however, 
 does not hold good in the case of additions to buildings 
 which are later than Gothic days, though with them 
 some indirect historical association may sometimes sug- 
 gest an appropriate style. 
 
 * In commending this restoration, I need hardly say 
 that I should wish to except the arrangement of the 
 fittings, which is among the strangest I have seen. 
 
38 /aitjifnl Ursinrctinn nf ^m\m\ (CljnrtlitH. 
 
 " Delay the ruthless work awhile — spare, 
 Thou stem, unpitying demon of Repair, 
 This precious relic of an early age ! 
 More fatal is thy touch than the fell rage 
 Of warring elements. * * * * 
 
 How many a sacred pile in this fair land, 
 Touch 'd and retouch'd by some unholy hand, 
 A modern motley garb incongmous wears, 
 Veiling the venerable form of years ! 
 
 >i« * ;)c * * * 
 
 It were a pious work, I hear you say, 
 To prop the fallen ruin, and to stay 
 The work of desolation. It may be 
 That ye say right ; hit, ! tvork tenderly ; 
 Beware lest one worn feature ye efface — 
 Seek not to add one touch of modem grace ; 
 Handle with reverence each crumbling stone, 
 Respect the veiy lichens o'er it grown ; 
 And bid each ancient monument to stand. 
 Supported e'en as with a filial hand. 
 Mid all the light a happier day has brought. 
 We work not yet* as our forefathers wrought ! 
 
 * I have taken a slight liberty with this line. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS REMARKS 
 
 ON VARIOUS 
 
 QUESTIONS INDIRECTLY SUGGESTED BY 
 THE FOREGOING PAPER. 
 
 On the Claims of Romanists {as sucJi) upon 
 Pointed Architecture. 
 
 (See page 17.) 
 
 TT may to some appear inconsisteut, after 
 -■- asserting tliat every form of Religion, whe- 
 ther true or false, has been symbolised in her 
 temples, to describe pointed architectm-e as an 
 emanation rather from the genius of Christi- 
 anity in the abstract than of that particular 
 form of it which prevailed at the time when 
 this style originated. 
 
 It is claimed by some zealous Romanists to 
 be a style which exclusively symbolizes and 
 belongs to their o\^^l communion, and the 
 
40 cinims nf Unnrnnisits 
 
 same lias sometimes been objected to its re- 
 vival by those who go into extremes in the 
 contrary direction. Both, it must be admitted, 
 have a good prima facie case, but it is only 
 prima facie. 
 
 It is true that this wonderful phase of art 
 made its appearance just at the era of the 
 most absolute sway of the Roman usurpation, 
 that it declined from about the time when that 
 sway began to be shaken, and that it became 
 extinct nearly at the period of the Reforma- 
 tion. I am not, however, by these adverse 
 facts, shaken in my conviction that it arose 
 rather in spite of, than as a consequence of, 
 that usm'ped domination and its accompanying 
 errors. It would be useless to attempt an 
 absolute proof of this position, but a few ne- 
 gative arguments may tend to neutralize the 
 prima facie evidence on the other side. 
 
 In the first place, then, it may be mentioned, 
 that the architectiue in question was not that 
 of the usm'ping party, but of the nations who 
 suffered from the usurpation. It was unques- 
 tionably the production of the countries north 
 of the Alps, and no one can charge upon those 
 countries the religious tyranny of the Roman 
 See, however severely they suffered from it. 
 
u ^hkitt ^Irrjjitrrtm. 41 
 
 Some of these countries owed a debt of the 
 deepest gratitude to the earlier bishops of 
 Rome, as the instruments of their evangehza- 
 tion ; and they repaid it in after ages by their 
 obedience to the unwarrantable claims of the 
 successors to these missionary bishops, while 
 they permitted the purer doctrines received 
 from the earlier to be corrupted by innova- 
 tions of the later pontiffs. Neither their 
 usm'pation, however, nor their corruptions of 
 doctrine, are to be laid to the charge of these 
 northern nations. It was from Ital^, and, par 
 eminence, from Borne, that both emanated; 
 while in Italy, Gothic architecture is rarely to 
 be found in a pure form, and is clearly only an 
 exotic imported from northern chmes ; and in 
 Rome it is hardly to be found at all, excepting 
 in some of the minor fittings of the chm-ches.* 
 
 * Mr. Pugin would fain ascribe this absence of his 
 favourite architecture from the metropolis of the Roman 
 Church, to the removal of the Papal court to Avignon, 
 though this did not take place till after the erection of 
 many of the noblest and purest of the Gothic churches 
 of France, Germany, and England. If this be admitted 
 as a reason for its absence during the fourteenth cen- 
 tury, how are we to account for its non-appearance in 
 the thirteenth ? 
 
42 (Tlflims nf iUmnEiHts 
 
 The period of the first appearance of pointed 
 architectiu'e, though coincident \^dth that of 
 the greatest power of Rome over the Western 
 Church, was, as compared with that which 
 immediately preceded it, one of great and 
 rapid revival both of learning and piety ; and 
 being also a period of most earnest zeal for 
 the erection of churches, it was not an un- 
 likely time for the appearance of a purely 
 Christian style of art. The time of its inci- 
 pient decline coincided with a corresponding 
 decay in rehgion and increase in the practical 
 corruptions of the Chiu-ch ; and the fact of its 
 being also coincident with the decline of the 
 Papal power and the earhest protests against 
 the religious system of the day, Avas, that the 
 tyranny of the one and the growing corrup- 
 tions of the other were becoming too manifest 
 to be passed over in silence. Lastly, the final 
 extinction of the style may fairly be ascribed 
 both to the continued influence of moral and 
 religious degeneracy, which was aptly symbol- 
 ized by a corresponding decay of the Christian 
 element in art ; and also directly to the influ- 
 ence of Rome herself, where the destruction of 
 the ancient Basilica of St. Peter, and the re- 
 building of it in the revived classic style, by 
 
setting up a Pagan standard before the eyes of 
 Christendom, completed that unchristianizing 
 of art for which the causes akeady mentioned 
 had paved the way. It is a curious fact, that 
 the infamous traffic in indulgences, to obtain 
 funds for this paganized cathedral, was the 
 immediate cause of the Reformation ; so that 
 the extinction of Gothic architecture, and the 
 great protest against the Roman Chm'ch, having 
 been brought about by the same cause, — the 
 one by its direct action, and the other through 
 the disgust and consequent reaction which it 
 produced, their chronological coincidence is at 
 once accounted for. 
 
 The paganization of art rapidly spread 
 through the Roman Catholic countries on the 
 Continent, where it obtained a fu'm footing long 
 before it reached our own shores (excepting in 
 one or two solitary instances*) ; and even when 
 
 * The earliest works of this class in England are the 
 tomb of King Heiuy VII., and the screen, &c. of 
 King's College Chapel at Cambridge, both -which are 
 by Italian artists, and are quite free from Gothic detail, 
 though dating far earlier than the overthrow of our own 
 style. Both stand high as works of art, and show that, 
 though the style was quite new in this countiy, it had 
 been long cultivated in the land from which it was 
 imported. 
 
44 Claims nf Unmauists 
 
 imported into England by Italian artists, it 
 was very long before it had any decided effect 
 in undermining our native architecture : we 
 accordingly find, at Oxford and elsewhere, 
 buildings designed in medieval taste dating 
 down to the Great Rebellion, with some bold 
 attempts at its revival even subsequent to the 
 Restoration,* — clearly showing that it was still 
 held by many to be the architecture of our 
 own church : while abroad, the works of the 
 Jesuits, the great champions of Romanism, 
 were almost always in the paganized style. 
 
 I think, then, it can hardly be denied, that 
 the influence of Rome had no concern in the 
 rise of pointed architecture ; that the increasing 
 corruption of the Roman Church was accom- 
 panied by a decline in the purity of our 
 Northern architecture; and that its final ex- 
 tinction was brought about directly by the 
 example and influence of Rome herself. 
 
 Dm-ing the long interval between the fall 
 of pointed architecture and its revival now 
 going on, it cannot for a moment be said that 
 the Roman Catholic Church has treated it as 
 a lost child of her own, or shown any desire 
 
 * See an interesting list of such post-reformation 
 churches in the " Ecclesiologist " for February, 1847. 
 
for its recovery. So far fi'om this, she has, in 
 the countries where her power has been pre- 
 dominant, absolutely luxuriated in paganized 
 art, often sq, completely altering the whole 
 interior of ancient chm'ches, that scarce a ves- 
 tige of their original design is to be detected 
 amid the gorgeous overlayings of " classic" 
 ornament : while in England she has been 
 content with square brick buildings, of no 
 greater pretensions than a proprietary chapel 
 or an Independent meeting : or when, as at 
 Moorfields, large funds were at her disposal, 
 she has expended them on a Grecian building, 
 tricked out internally more like a theatre than 
 a chm'ch. It was only through the unhappy 
 secession of Mr. Pugin from our own com- 
 munion, that the Romanists were led to join in 
 the revival which had originated among our- 
 selves, though the transfer to their Church of 
 his extraordinary labours and brilliant success, 
 has made over to it much of the prestige which 
 would otherwise have belonged to our own. 
 
 Mr. Pugin, in the first edition of his " Con- 
 trasts," argues with all the fervour of a neo- 
 phyte for the Roman Cathohc origin and 
 Protestant extinction of the style of which he 
 is so eminent a reviver ; but in his second 
 
46 (Clnims nf llnmnnists 
 
 edition he has been obhged to admit that its 
 decay accompanied a corresponding dechne of 
 rehgion in the Roman Church, and that its 
 final abandonment for pagan art priginated in 
 the Papal court itself : while in his " Apology 
 for the Revival of Christian Architecture," 
 published a little later still, he devotes several 
 pages to showing how perfectly suited are its 
 forms, to the rites of our own Church, — an 
 opinion the most directly at variance with 
 what he had expressed in his earlier work. 
 
 I have been led to carry these remarks to 
 a greater length than might otherwise have 
 appeared necessary, from the circumstance of 
 the Bishop of Oxford having, in his inaugural 
 address as President of the Buckinghamshire 
 Ai'chitectural Society, delivered at the same 
 meeting at which the accompanying paper was 
 read, expressed himself on the subject in a 
 manner which I think might possibly have 
 been misinteqDreted.* His lordship might, at 
 
 * I fear I have to attribute to the impression pro- 
 duced by his lordship "s address, the destniction, in a 
 church in which I was myself professionally interested, 
 of a curious and most innocuous remnant of the ancient 
 fittings ; and that at the hands of a veiy zealous, and 
 generally judicious, chui'ch restorer. 
 
first sight, have been imagined to condemn 
 the revival of pointed architecture, and tlie use 
 of our old churches in any degree as models 
 for new ones, on the ground of their having 
 originated in the days and under the influence 
 of Romanism. It must, however, be suffi- 
 ciently clear, even without referring to his 
 lordship's many practical proofs of his feelings, 
 that he would not have become president of a 
 society whose object he disapproved, and that 
 his warnings were aimed at the revival, not of 
 pointed architecture, but of such arrangements 
 as may be shown to be connected exclusively 
 mth rites and practices rejected by our Church ; 
 for however firmly one may be convinced that 
 this glorious form of architecture does not 
 belong, /)«r emi?ie?tce, to the Church [of Rome, 
 it would be absurd to deny that in buildings 
 erected for the ritual of that Church, the 
 arrangements must differ in some respects 
 from those which would be suggested by our 
 own ; though the points of difference are far 
 less apparent in the smaller churches, which 
 are our most useful models, than in those vast 
 temples which there is little possibility of our 
 being called upon to imitate. 
 
 The distinction between the architecture of 
 
48 ciflims nf Uninnnists 
 
 a cliiircli and its arrangements, is manifest. 
 In the case of our ancient chm-ches, the one 
 is purely Christian, while the other may, hke 
 the ritual of the Church of Rome itself, though 
 retaining in its leading forms the primitive 
 type of the early church, have overlaid it with 
 extraneous appendages unknown to the pri- 
 mitive church, and discarded by our own. 
 The omission of such features, however, leaves 
 the beauty of the architecture unimpaired. 
 
 I cannot refrain from adding the following 
 quotation fi-om Mr. Poole, though somewhat 
 lengthy, as it so fully corroborates what I have 
 above stated. 
 
 " We must guard, however, at the outset 
 against a notion that the decline of ecclesiastical 
 architecture is to be traced to the Reformation. 
 Many beautiful structures were, indeed, de- 
 stroyed at the dissolution of the monasteries, 
 but this was no part of the Reformation pro- 
 perly so called : it preceded, and did not follow 
 the establishment of a reformed ritual ; and it 
 was the work of a prince in all doctrinal mat- 
 ters as popish as any of his predecessors. Nor 
 was Henry VIII. the first to devise or to exe- 
 cute this wholesale sacrilege. The ahen pri- 
 
nil l^ninttii 5lrtliMiirp. 49 
 
 ories had been already seized several times, 
 and at last wholly confiscated by Henry V. 
 (a.d. 1414). Wolsey had dissolved and de- 
 spoiled religious houses to found his own col- 
 lege, nine years before the dissolution of the 
 lesser, and thirteen years before that of the 
 greater monasteries. But it is still more to 
 the purpose that both here and abroad the 
 decline of ecclesiastical art, in all its branches, 
 had preceded the Reformation : that architec- 
 ture was debased, and partially paganized, 
 all over the Continent, as well as in England, 
 before the quarrel of Henry VIII. with the 
 Pope ; and, of course, long before the Refor- 
 mation had taken any definite form. More- 
 over, the downward course of ecclesiastical 
 architecture has been at least as rapid in other 
 countries as in our otmi. New churches have 
 been as wretched, — old ones have been as inju- 
 diciously restored, and as recklessly and more 
 universally destroyed ; nay, wholesale sacrilege 
 and the dissolution of religious houses have 
 been practised w^ithout any connexion w4th a 
 change in doctrine. And, finally, the pre- 
 sent revival of ecclesiastical art commenced in 
 Protestant England, and among Anglo-Catho- 
 lics ; and w^e heartily hope that it may yet 
 
 D 
 
50 Clnims nf ilnmnnists 
 
 grow into a living proof, that we are not de- 
 serted by the spu'it of oui- fathers in all that 
 is great and lovely." 
 
 Mr. Pugin, in the second edition of his 
 " Contrasts," unwillingly admits a good deal 
 of this, though he still saddles Protestantism 
 with a certain amount of the blame : — 
 
 " England's Church," he says, " was not 
 attacked hy a strange enemy and overthrown^ 
 she was consumed hy internal decay ; her 
 privileges and abbeys were surrendered by 
 dissembling and compromising nominally Ca- 
 tholic ecclesiastics, and her revenues and her 
 glorious ornaments were despoiled and appro- 
 priated by so-called Catholic nobles. Both Pro- 
 testantism and revived Paganism were gene- 
 rated by unworthy men who bore the name of 
 Catholic ; the former is, indeed, the conse- 
 quence of the latter, as will be shown here- 
 after ; and, strange as it may appear, there is 
 a great deal of connexion between the gardens 
 of the Medici, filled with pagan luxury, and 
 the Independent preaching-houses that now 
 deface the land, for both are utterly opposed to 
 true Catholic principles, and neither could have 
 existed had not those principles decayed!'* 
 * The italics are Mr. Puffin's own. 
 
Dii l^ninhlr ^Irrljitrrtnrr. 51 
 
 We may fairly take out of this so much as 
 suits our argument, and attribute the rest to 
 Mr. Pugin's natm-al love for his own Chm'ch — 
 to say the least, it is a valuable admission. I 
 may add that Protestant writers have shown 
 that the sway of Rome and Romanism was 
 never so ahsolutehj imdisjmted as during the 
 few years immediately preceding the first 
 great protest of Luther — yet this was the very 
 period to which the paganization of art is to 
 be traced ! The ancient Basihca of St. Peter 
 was taken down, I think, about 1506; and 
 Luther's protest, arising from the means taken 
 to raise funds for rebuilding it, was, if I 
 remember rightly, in 1517. 
 
52 Mnmmx^ :>lkptntian5 
 
 II. 
 
 On some Questions relating to the Adaptation 
 of Ancient Churches to our present Ritual. 
 
 TT is often objected to the conservative 
 ^ principle, that a restoration is but a piece of 
 dead antiquarianism, which fails to adapt a 
 church to present ritual usage ; and that if it 
 leaves the church in any degree inconvenient 
 in respect of its present uses, it goes against 
 the dictates of reason, and is to be condemned 
 as preferring ciu"ious reminiscences of the past 
 to the positive and daily requirements of the 
 present. 
 
 To this I would reply, in the first place, 
 that while I advocate " consen^atism " as an ap- 
 proximate definition of what we should aim at, 
 I do not by any means consider that it 
 correctly expresses it. The three terms I have 
 so often quoted are not my own, and I only 
 use them for convenience, without approving 
 of any of them, much less considering them 
 exhaustive of the subject. "Conservatism" 
 
to nnr mu Utel. 53 
 
 seems to imply a blind preservation of every- 
 thing, which no intelligent restorer would 
 dream of; while "Eclecticism" seems to give 
 too unlimited a scope to the choice. After 
 all, every restorer must be " eclectic," even 
 if he choose to be either " conservative " or 
 " destructive." I would only plead that con- 
 servatism should be the principle by which 
 his eclecticism should be guided. 
 
 In the great majority of instances no such 
 difficulties as those I am supposing need arise, 
 inasmuch as most of our old parish churches 
 are perfectly well suited to our present uses. 
 It is not necessary that they should be suited 
 to them in the highest possible degree, though 
 this is often not far from being the case, as is 
 proved by our habit of making old churches 
 serve as the models for new ones. It is 
 enough that they should be reasonahly con- 
 venient, so much so that the worship is not 
 hindered, and the good order of the services 
 not materially interfered with, by any want of 
 perfect harmony between the building and its 
 uses ; and it is very seldom that an old parish 
 church fails to meet these conditions. It often 
 happens that a church which, from its dimen- 
 sions, the amount of its obstructive masses, 
 
54 Ilrrrs3flrt{ ^Ikptntinns 
 
 and other adverse symptoms, appears most 
 unpromising, turns out, when restored and 
 correctly arranged, to be very far from pre- 
 senting the inconveniences which were anti- 
 cipated. It would be idle to say, that if we 
 are to preserve the fabric unaltered we must 
 use none of its parts differently from their first 
 intention : this would compel us to leave 
 unused all chancel aisles, chantry chapels, and 
 often even transepts and portions of nave 
 aisles, merely because in old times they had 
 contained separate altars. It is obvious that 
 in refitting our churches we must have oiu* own 
 ritual and our own necessities in view, and while 
 we make correct ecclesiastical arrangement our 
 leading object, we must not be prevented by 
 a morbid feeling for antiquity from applying 
 to existing uses those parts whose original 
 intention has become obsolete. 
 
 The most difficult cases are those in which 
 the church is of such great dimensions, as to 
 render it nearly impracticable that the voice 
 should be heard from one extremity to the 
 other, as may possibly be the case in such a 
 church as that of the Holy Trinity at Hull. 
 No one would, however, in such a case argue 
 for an alteration in the fabric ; and if not in so 
 
tn Dur nrau Ixtol. 55 
 
 extreme a case, why should it be defended in 
 minor instances ? I am, indeed, strongly of 
 opinion, that even in these rare instances, the 
 difficulty may be met by a determined effort 
 on the part of the clergy, and by the arrange- 
 ment of a numerous choir, partly in the 
 chancel and partly under the lantern, and 
 possibly by advancing the altar-table one or 
 two bays westward. I do not place under 
 this head cases in which enlargement is re- 
 quired : these absolutely demand a departure 
 from strict conservatism : but I do hold that 
 there are very few instances in which a chm*ch 
 requii'es alteration of the original fabric (apart 
 from extension) to accommodate it to our 
 present ritual, if rightly used ; and that imper- 
 fections in such adaptation should be borne 
 with, rather than needlessly to tamper with an 
 ancient and venerable fabric. Such imper- 
 fections may always be obviated to a very 
 great extent by careful and judicious manage- 
 ment, both in the arrangement and the mode 
 of performing the services. When we turn, 
 however, from parish churches, and approach 
 our mighty cathedrals, it must be admitted 
 that we enter upon an entirely different field 
 of consideration. Here we are brought, how- 
 
56 JlmsBartj !Hk|itntinii3 
 
 ever unwillingly, to admit the fear, at least, 
 that there is not in our present usages an 
 expansive force which would enable them to 
 assume proportions in any degree commen- 
 surate with those vast temples. It may be 
 that such a principle may be latent in our 
 ritual, but it is not easy at first sight to 
 imagine how our spacious choii's are to be 
 filled with legitimate occupants, or how the 
 thousands who should fill our mighty naves 
 could be enabled readily to join in the ser- 
 vices. 
 
 To the difficulty arising from the dimen- 
 sions of the choir, is usually added the existence 
 of a massive barrier of unperforated stone, 
 severing it almost as perfectly from the nave 
 as if they were distinct buildings ; and it must 
 be at once admitted, that so long as these exist 
 it is hopeless to think of bringing the ar- 
 rangement to anything like theoretical con- 
 sistency. 
 
 The two great difficulties, then, which we 
 have to contend with are, the obstruction of 
 the screen, and the size of the choir. 
 
 The following remarks on these difficulties 
 I have, with some slight alterations, transcribed 
 from a Report drawn up about two years since 
 
tn nnr ninn Hitual 57 
 
 with reference to the alterations now making 
 in the choir at Ely : — 
 
 " It is difficult to imagine a greater ano- 
 maly than the choirs of our cathedrals un- 
 avoidably present when the solid screen is 
 retained, being, in fact, a space smaller than 
 most parish churches, enclosed by close par- 
 titions in the midst of a church of stupendous 
 dimensions, the remainder of which is rendered 
 almost entirely useless by the solid obstructions 
 which divide it from the only part in which the 
 service is performed. 
 
 '* It is true that a perfect consistency cannot 
 be hoped for between the construction and the 
 uses of a building, erected at a time when 
 ecclesiastical and ritual usages differed so widely 
 from those of our own day ; but much, I am 
 quite sure, may very advantageously be done 
 to diminish the discordance, or, at least, to do 
 away with absolute contrariety. 
 
 " To facilitate the consideration of this sub- 
 ject, it may, perhaps, be useful briefly to recur 
 to the ancient arrangement of this part of the 
 chm-ch, and to some of the changes which its 
 construction and uses have undergone. 
 
 " The custom of dividing the church into 
 three portions, appears to be almost coeval with 
 D 2 
 
58 Urrrssnttf 5liin|itntinii0 
 
 the erection of distinct buildings expressly for 
 Christian worship ; but in the earlier churches 
 the distinction between the cJioir, properly so 
 called, and the nave, appears to have been far 
 less, while that between the choir, and the 
 sanctuary, or sacrarium, was far greater than at 
 a later period. The cancelli, in fact, of the 
 earlier church, in the stricter sense, appear, so 
 far as position goes, to agree rather with our 
 altar-rails than with our chancel-screens. They 
 formed a substantial, though not a solid, se- 
 paration between that part of the church which 
 contained the altar, and the body of the build- 
 ing ; while in advance of them, the choir was 
 cut out of the midst of the church by a breast- 
 wall or low partition. 
 
 " The superior clergy usually sat round the 
 apse at the back of the altar, while the minor 
 orders occupied the choir, being intermediate 
 between the laity and the superior clergy. 
 The choir was thus only slightly separated 
 from the nave, while the sanctuary was more 
 decidedly separated from the choir. 
 
 " In later ages the screen between the choir 
 and the sanctuary seems gradually to have 
 diminished till it wholly disappeared, its only 
 remaining representative being the hue of steps 
 
tn nnr mn Hitnnl. 59 
 
 by wliicli the latter was raised above the 
 former; while, at the same time, the screen 
 dividing the choir from the nave underwent a 
 progressive increase, till in the case of cathe- 
 dral and conventional, and sometimes of col- 
 legiate churches, it became a massive and often 
 double wall of stone, perforated only by the 
 doors into the choii*, and surmounted by a 
 wide gallery. 
 
 " The uses of these two di^dsions of the 
 chancel at the same time underwent consider- 
 able change ; inasmuch as the seats for the 
 superior clergy were removed from behind the 
 altar into the choir, no clergy occupying the 
 sanctuary but those who were officiating at the 
 altar, and for whom the sedilia were provided 
 on the south side. 
 
 " The choir thus became the place not of the 
 inferior orders of clergy only, but for all the 
 clergy (excepting those who were actually offi- 
 ciating at the altar), and also for those w-ho, 
 w^hether actually clergymen or not, were offi- 
 cially engaged in the celebration of the ser^dces. 
 The number of those who would occupy the 
 choir would, in the case of cathedrals and of 
 collegiate and conventual churches, become 
 very considerable ; for though the whole body 
 
60 Mnmax^ ^kptntintts 
 
 would seldom be present, a considerable por- 
 tion of them would usually be so, and all must 
 have their places provided for them. It is 
 possible, therefore, that, large as the choirs of 
 our cathedrals are, there were occasions when 
 every seat was occupied by its legitimate cleri- 
 cal possessor. 
 
 "It is difficult to conceive with precision 
 the reason why the clerical body should have 
 separated themselves from the lay congregation 
 by a massive stone screen ; this woidd appear 
 to have been, even in those times, an anomaly 
 which had sprung up gradually, and had be- 
 come sufferable only from use. Its exclusive- 
 ness was, however, mitigated by the circum- 
 stance of portions of the service being read — 
 and, perhaps, the sermon preached* — from the 
 rood-loft, and by the existence of numerous 
 altars tlu'oughout other parts of the building, 
 at which the people could attend the services 
 of the Church. 
 
 " At the Reformation, however, when these 
 minor altars were removed, and the services 
 
 * The German word kanzel for a pulpit, and the 
 occasional application of the word pidpitum to a screen, 
 seem to point to the rood-screen as a usual place for the 
 sermon. 
 
tn nur mn EitnnL 61 
 
 were rendered more essentially congregational, 
 the solid rood-screen, from a just supportable 
 anomaly, became an absolute preventive to 
 the performance of the service, if the existing 
 divisions of the Chm-ch were retained ; while 
 a kind of escape from the difficulty was pro- 
 vided by a second anomaly which the recent 
 changes had introduced ; for the choirs, hitherto 
 proportioned directly to the number of their 
 proper possessors, became, through the disso- 
 lution of the monastic and the curtailment of 
 the collegiate establislmients, absurdly dispro- 
 portioned to the ordinary number of their legi- 
 timate occupants, and there was clearly no 
 alternative but either to throw open the screen 
 by which the lay congregation were separated 
 from the officiating clergy, or to take advantage 
 of the deserted seats of the clerics and admit 
 the people into their places. The latter coiu-se 
 was very generally adopted — a com'se which, 
 though destructive to the consistency of the 
 arrangement of our cathedrals, has had the 
 advantage of preserving to us many most mag- 
 nificent and interesting works of art in our 
 ancient rood-screens. 
 
 " Mr. Pugin remarks on this in his usual 
 style : — 
 
62 Umssnrti 5lk|itiitiDtt0 
 
 " ' In this country, owing to the Protestant 
 plan of converting the cathedi-al choirs into 
 preaching-places and pewing them, most of 
 our ancient rood-lofts have escaped destruc- 
 tion ; and in this respect our cathedrals are 
 far more perfect than the continental churches, 
 where the partial decay of ancient solemn dis- 
 cipline, combined with pagan ideas of taste and 
 the ravages of the great Revolution, have left 
 but few of the sumptuous rood-lofts which were 
 formerly to be found in every great church.' " 
 
 " Unreasonable as it may justly appear that 
 the choir should thus become the entire 
 church, that the ancient divisions should become 
 a dead letter, and that three-fourths of the 
 church should be rendered useless, I confess 
 that where a fine ancient rood-screen exists I 
 should be most unwilling to purchase con- 
 sistency by its destruction,* nor even where it 
 
 * Should the Abbey of St. Albans be re-arranged as 
 a cathedral church, -which would unquestionably be the 
 most interesting work which we can almost hope to see, 
 no such difficulty would, happily, be found to exist ; for 
 the space between the ancient reredos and rood-screen is 
 so great, and its plan so well suited to the purpose, 
 that it would readily afford space for both choir and 
 nave, as has been shown by a correspondent of the 
 "Ecclesiologist." 
 
tn nur dm lUtiinl. 63 
 
 might be done without the loss of any object 
 valuable, as a specimen of ancient art, or from 
 its connexion with the history of ancient ritual 
 usages, should I be willing to see the choirs of 
 our cathedrals reduced to the scanty dimen- 
 sions which the present numbers of their proper 
 occupants would suggest. There is a grandeur 
 of proportion between the great divisions of 
 these mighty edifices, which forbids that any 
 of them should be reduced to the limits pre- 
 scribed by modern utilitarianism, and any such 
 attempt must inevitably tend to mar their 
 glorious symmetry.* Where, therefore, the 
 ancient choir is perfect, and the screen re- 
 maining, I would prefer that the present usage 
 (anomalous as it is) should be, with some 
 minor mitigations, continued, rather than that 
 so great a sacrifice should be made ; and in 
 no case would I attempt to proportion the 
 dimensions of the choir to its ordinary modern 
 uses : but "with these reservations I would un- 
 questionably urge the reduction of the amount 
 
 * This does not at all preclude -vvhat I so earnestlj- 
 desire at Ely, — the bringing forward of the altar, so as 
 to be within a reasonable distance of the choir ; for the 
 whole space would still, to the eye, be one; indeed the per- 
 spective would be lengthened by the intervening object. 
 
64 j^trrsHnq :Hkptfltinii0 
 
 of inconsistency between the intention and 
 construction of the building and its actual use, 
 to the lowest possible amount which the cir- 
 cumstances of each building will admit. 
 
 " It should be constantly remembered, in 
 treating our cathedrals, that it is impossible to 
 arrive at perfect consistency in their adaptation 
 to our present usages ; but this should not be 
 used as an argument against aiming at so much 
 of it as can either now or gradually be attained." 
 
 " To reduce the choir to the size of the chan- 
 cel of a village church, and to throw all the 
 remainder into the nave, though theoretically 
 consistent, would clearly be utterly destructive 
 to the fah proportion and harmony of the build- 
 ing. To admit the congregation entirely into 
 the choir, though in many cases unavoidable, 
 involves obviously the greatest amount of in- 
 consistency. To substitute an open for a close 
 screen, and to exclude the people entirely from 
 the choir, though theoretically more consistent, 
 involves the new anomaly of a choir, nineteen- 
 twentieths of which are unoccupied. An inter- 
 mediate course, though of necessity not perfect, 
 seems to be suggested by the circumstances 
 under which we are placed. 
 
 " The course which I should be disposed to 
 
ta ntir niHtt Eitunl 65 
 
 suggest in cases where the ancient screen does 
 not exist, is, first, to substitute an open for a 
 close screen, retaining such dimensions for the 
 choir as seem naturally pointed out by the 
 building. The cathedral not being like a mere 
 parish church, nor yet to be considered only as 
 the principal chm-ch of the city or neighbour- 
 hood, but, being the diocesan church, its choir 
 should, as it appears to me, be considered to 
 be, though under the guardianship of the dean 
 and chapter, the place for the assembled clergy 
 of the diocese, when, as might, and indeed 
 ought, periodically to be the case, certain public 
 occasions may call any considerable number of 
 them together. This at once gives an existing 
 use and meaning to the great size of the choir, 
 and does away with its apparent inconsistency ; 
 as the existence of a great central church, in 
 which the clergy of a diocese may occasionally 
 meet and join in common, and in presence of 
 their chief pastor, in the services of the church, 
 seems most natural and desirable, however little 
 it may be the custom of the present day to use 
 our cathedrals for such a purpose. 
 
 " I would then consider that, strictly speak- 
 ing, the choir is for the dean and chapter, those 
 engaged in the performance of the service, and 
 
66 Jferrssartf 5lk|itatinn3 
 
 the clergy of the diocese ; but that, if on ordi- 
 nary occasions any of the seats not thus occu- 
 pied be made use of by other worshippers, this 
 should be considered to be on sufferance only, 
 and to be an irregularity which circumstances 
 render admissible, and which, though it may 
 take place in a majority of instances, should be 
 considered as the exception, not the rule, and 
 simply to result from the absence of the proper 
 occupants, who, from the circumstances of the 
 case, can only occasionally attend ; in the 
 same way that strangers sitting in the stalls at 
 Windsor can in no degree invalidate the rights 
 of the Knights of the Garter. 
 
 " The great thing to be avoided, as it appears 
 to me, is the idea of the rule being superseded 
 by the frequency of the exception ; and, as long 
 habit will naturally have rooted such an idea 
 in people's minds, it would become necessary 
 to take measures for gradually removing such a 
 feeling, which may be done in part by placing 
 benches without the open screen, and encou- 
 raging persons of respectability to sit there, 
 and by closing the choir gates when the service 
 begins." 
 
 By thus training the people to feel that the 
 nave, not the choir, is their legitimate place, 
 
tn nnr nintt fvitnnL 67 
 
 and by showing that there are proper occupants 
 of the choir more than sufficient to fill it, the 
 present inconsistencies will, I think, gradually 
 subside ; and we may yet see — on some occa- 
 sions, at least — the long ranges of our cathe- 
 dral stalls filled with clerical occupants, while 
 their full chorus of worship is re-echoed by the 
 devout crowds who throng the mighty nave ; a 
 sight more truly glorious than could have been 
 witnessed by these sumptuous temples even in 
 the days of their early magnificence, and sup- 
 plying to our chm'ch the one thing which she 
 needs — a service in whicb her children can 
 unite on equal terms, in one vast throng, in 
 celebrating the praises of their Lord, in such a 
 manner and on such a scale as would express, 
 so far as human efforts could do, the glories of 
 His holiness, the fearfulness of His praises, and 
 the wonders of His love. 
 
 In some degree parallel are the questions 
 connected with that large class of churches, 
 whose chancels, with their rectorial tithes, have 
 become impropriated, and another less nume- 
 rous class, the generous scale of whose chancels 
 is almost as disproportioned to modern customs 
 as is that of our cathedral chohs. 
 
 The former of these classes is a perpetual 
 
68 IffrMsnrti :Hk|itntinn3 
 
 thorn in the side to the church restorer. Surely 
 the spohator might have rested content with 
 depriving the church of her revenues, without 
 seizing on the portion of the building itself 
 which had been set apart expressly for those 
 who officiate in her services ! 
 
 To this unhappy practice we perhaps owe 
 more than to any other, the loss of our church 
 choirs, whose miserable representatives, now 
 banished from their rightful place, and released 
 from clerical discipline, mislead the singing 
 from a western gallery, often such as might 
 be pretty correctly described, in the words of a 
 writer contemporary with their earliest erection, 
 as a " Beastly loft." 
 
 I need hardly say that the first step towards 
 restoring the chancel, in any case, to its legiti- 
 mate uses, is to reform, and indeed reconstruct, 
 these representatives of the ancient choir, and 
 to place them under proper regulations, so that 
 they might return to their right position in the 
 chancel, so soon as its present holders see the 
 propriety of restoring it to its proper uses. Till 
 this is done it is useless for an architect to pro- 
 test against the appropriation to ordinary uses 
 of the choir seats ; his arguments "v\'ill appear 
 frivolous pedantry to those who see that there 
 
k nnr ninn f\ittinL 69 
 
 is nobody to occupy and make proper use of 
 these seats, if relinquished by their present 
 holders. 
 
 Whether impropriated or not, the chancel 
 seats will in most cases inevitably continue to be 
 held as " pews" till a choir be formed to occupy 
 them ; and, when this is done, I see no more 
 reason to despair of the restoration of those 
 which are impropriated, than of those which 
 from long custom have been made over to 
 merely congregational occupants. At any rate, 
 it seems to me to be the place of the architect 
 to provide such arrangements as may, without 
 much alteration, be used when the chancel shall 
 be restored to its rightful holders — that is, to 
 the clergy of the parish — to be used under 
 their direction for objects connected exclusively 
 with the performance of the services of the 
 church. 
 
 The second class which I have mentioned — 
 that in v^hich the chancel is so large that it is 
 unreasonable to suppose that legitimate use 
 could ever be found for the whole of it — pre- 
 sents greater difficulties. Here, if the ancient 
 dimensions be retained, we must, I fear, submit 
 to the alternative of unrightful occupants, or of 
 empty seats. If, however, the chancel be placed 
 under the dii'ection and at the disposal of the 
 
70 Jfassarti !>lk|itfltinn3 
 
 clergy, I am convinced that in the majority of 
 instances these inconsistencies may be greatly 
 reduced. (See note F.) If, as is most frequently 
 the case, the church is in a considerable to^vn, 
 a numerous choir, whether regular or volunta- 
 rily, can generally be enrolled; and as our 
 modern choirs are usually much too limited in 
 numbers, it is, to say the least, an error on the 
 right side to provide space for their indefinite 
 extension : a few empty seats are a less evil 
 than a too limited space for so essential a part 
 of our church arrangement, and in the course 
 of time, occupants may be found for these ; 
 and, as churches which have these unusually 
 large chancels are often used for visitations, 
 confirmations, &c., there are occasions on which 
 the largest chancel can be actually occupied by 
 clergy. 
 
 A still greater difficulty is found in cases where 
 not only the chancel is too large, but the nave 
 too small. But I would urge that every means 
 should be tried before determining on the in- 
 fringement upon the proportions of the ancient 
 chancel, where they are clearly marked as essen- 
 tial elements of the design ; though where, as 
 in many of the later of our old churches, this 
 is not the case, it unquestionably becomes 
 under such circumstances admissible to do so. 
 
tn onr nmn llitnnl. 71 
 
 I would, however, urge, that the Hne of de- 
 marcatiou between the chancel and nave, if 
 clearly and essentially marked, should never be 
 infringed on ; and that, when this is not the 
 case, the chancel should not in large churches 
 be reduced to the scanty dimensions suggested 
 by present and daily uses, but that ample space 
 should be left for occasions when a large body 
 of clergy may be assembled in them. 
 
 A^'lien the united length of the nave and 
 chancel is proved to be absolutely incompatible 
 with the audible performance of the service, it 
 is certainly better to bring the altar forward one 
 or two bays by an advanced reredos than to 
 advance the nave into the chancel. This, how- 
 ever, should only be resorted to in very extreme 
 cases. 
 
 I will not, however, further multiply cases ; 
 it is sufficient to lay it down as the leading 
 object we should aim at, that the greatest 
 amount of correct ecclesiastical arrangement, 
 and the most perfect adaptation of our churches 
 to the requirements of our reformed ritual, 
 should be attained at the smallest practicable 
 sacrifice of what is valuable or beautiful in the 
 original features of the fabric. 
 
72 cjinitt nf fl Itijle 
 
 III. 
 
 On the Questions of the selection of a single 
 variety of Pointed Architecture for modern 
 use, and of lohich variety has the strongest 
 claims on such selection. 
 
 I 
 
 (See page 26.) 
 
 T may not be altogetlier irrelevant to re- 
 fer here to the double vexata quastio, on 
 which so much has of late been said, as to 
 whether it will best promote the successful 
 revival of Christian architecture, to adopt in 
 our new works (for the present at least) ex- 
 clusively that variety which may be considered 
 the highest developement yet attained, or to 
 give om'selves the range of the varied beauties 
 which it has assumed at different periods of its 
 career; and, supposing the first course to be 
 selected, what point is to be assumed to be 
 that of the highest developement. 
 
 There is a remarkable analogy, and at the 
 same time a striking distinction, between the 
 developement of the Christian architecture of 
 Western Europe, and that of the refined pagan 
 
for l^rrsrut ^kptinn. 78 
 
 arcliitectm-e of classic antiquity. Eacli appears 
 naturally to claim a threefold division, and in 
 eacli these divisions are in some degree chro- 
 nological. In each, the earliest phase is noble 
 and severe ; the second more refined, but still 
 dignified and pure; the third elegant and 
 playful, but containing in its very luxmiance 
 the elements of its decay. In both, each of 
 these divisions had changes and subdivisions 
 of its own, varying with the period and 
 country in which they were used; but while 
 in the case of pointed architecture each variety 
 superseded its predecessors, the three orders 
 of classic art became a general stock, and were 
 open to the selection of the architect, who chose 
 one or the other, as he deemed best suited to 
 give the expression appropriate to the building 
 on which he was engaged. The former course 
 is what I have intended to express by the 
 exclusive developement of pointed architecture, 
 and I have already stated my opinion that to 
 it we owe the wonderful copiousness of that 
 vast stock of beauties which has been handed 
 do\Mi to us. 
 
 The advantage resulting to us from our fore- 
 fathers having followed this course is, I think, 
 obvious, but this by no means proves that it is 
 
 E 
 
74 . clinirt nf n Itiflr 
 
 the riglit coiu'se for us to follow ourselves. My 
 own impressions would lead me to conjecture, 
 that the circumstances of the Church at the 
 time of the prevalence of pointed architecture, 
 though such as to promote that wonderful but 
 temporary blaze of Christian art of which we 
 now witness the traces, was not favourable to 
 the permanent adoption of a pure Christian 
 style ; but that the extraordinary productions 
 of that period have been reserved to be made 
 use of as the groundwork for such a perma- 
 nent style, at a period when cu'cumstances 
 shall allow of its developement. I am far 
 from thinldng that we have actually arrived at 
 such a period ; I am convinced, indeed, that we 
 see but its dawn, and that we are not a little 
 presumptuous if, under present chcumstances, 
 we condemn any portion of the material left to 
 us, as unworthy of being used in the work which 
 lies before us. Rather let us jealously retain 
 every beauty which Christian art has produced, 
 from its birth to its decay, hoping that each 
 will one day take its place, in future and more 
 comprehensive developements. How this may 
 be brought about we do not know, but let us 
 be careful lest, by needless and arbitrary re- 
 strictions, we bind the hands to which the work 
 
fnr ^5rr0rEt Slkptinn. 75 
 
 is committed. I think it probable that each 
 earnest reviver will do right in his neAv works, 
 to use, for the most part, that portion of the 
 material which approves itself to his judgment 
 as being the most perfect ; but I doubt whether 
 each may not also do well to familiarize him- 
 self by practical use, with the beauties which 
 belong to other portions. If he thinks other- 
 wise, he should, at least, not speak harshly of 
 those who differ from him. Different indivi- 
 duals may think it right to adopt exclusively 
 the first, second, or third divisions of the style, 
 while others may think it best to view them 
 as the ancients did their three orders, and 
 to use one or the other, as circumstances or 
 the expression he aims at, may dictate. I 
 am inclined to beheve that each vdll be doing 
 his part towards the ultimate end, and that in 
 due time the labours of neither will be found 
 to have been wasted.* 
 
 * I need hardly say, that when I wrote this I had not 
 seen Mr. Ruskin's magnificent passages on this subject; 
 indeed, his work was not then published. I believe I 
 go the whole length with him in wishing the general 
 adoption of one style, and only differ from him in not 
 viewing the different shades of variety in pointed ai'chi- 
 tecture as so many distinct styles, though I view one of 
 them as the leading type, which it would be well to adopt 
 as our nucleus and rallying point. 
 
76 Cjjnirt nf n ItqlB 
 
 On a prima facie view of the question, I 
 admit that the adoption, in the main at least, 
 of one style, would seem to be the most con- 
 sistent. I remember while in Germany a few 
 years since, before, I think, the question had 
 been brought publicly forward, being put on 
 my defence by a son of the Chevalier Bunsen, 
 on the ground of the apparent inconsistency 
 of the revival of an extinct style, rather than 
 the developement of a new one, while every 
 age but the present had had, in some degree at 
 least, a style of its own. The best reply which 
 occurred to me at the moment was this: that 
 since the indigenous architecture of Christian 
 Europe had fallen into decay and become extinct, 
 we had been wandering for three centuries in 
 mistaken paths, and that on now at last dis- 
 covering our error, we find ourselves in the 
 anomalous position of having no style of archi- 
 tectiu-e of our own ; — that universal experience 
 would show us that no style of art was ever 
 intentionally invented, but that all which have 
 existed, have been the spontaneous growth of 
 circumstances, and that it was consequently 
 hopeless for us to attempt to supply the vacuum 
 by deliberate invention ; — that our best course 
 was, therefore, to retrace our steps, till we 
 should find the point in the old path from 
 
fnr ^kmni A^ilu. 77 
 
 whicli we had deviated, and that this was to be 
 looked for in the architecture which had been 
 the natural production of our religion and race ; 
 not at the period immediately preceding its 
 extinction, but at that of its highest develope- 
 ment ; the point, in fact, at which from an 
 ascending, its path began to take a descending 
 com-se ; and that, falling in with the old path 
 at that point, we should endeavour to profit 
 by experience and to continue to advance on the 
 ascent. This may be theoretically correct, but I 
 am disposed to think we must also try to carry 
 with us all the genuine beauties which we jfind 
 to have been created in the whole of the course 
 of our native architecture ; and possibly we may 
 act more wisely if we step a little further back, 
 and rejoin the path at the point of its most 
 vigorous ascent, rather than where experience 
 has shown us that it was on the very eve of 
 taking a downward course : for the style must 
 surely have become enfeebled before reaching 
 its culminating point, or it would not have 
 been so ready to decline. 
 
 The second part of the question seems nearly 
 as incapable of being answered with certainty 
 as the first ; and had the first been satisfactorily 
 settled, it would, so long as the second re- 
 
78 Cjinin flf n ItqlB 
 
 mains in doubt, be but a '' conclusion in which 
 nothing is conchided." The question as to 
 which is the highest point of perfection to 
 which pointed architectiu^e has attained, is one 
 on which we seldom find two persons perfectly 
 to agree, and on which the taste of the same 
 individual is subject to frequent fluctuations. 
 Even within the range of my own acquaintance 
 are persons who hold with nearly every variety 
 of the style, as being that to which perfection 
 is to be attributed ; and even those who most 
 strongly advocate the exclusive revival of one 
 variety, are not agreed among tliemselves as 
 to the precise variety which is alone to be 
 revived. 
 
 The course of pointed architecture may, as 
 it appears to me, be compared to that of some 
 celestial body which has been launched into 
 space by a heavenly impulse, but is draAvn 
 downward from its progressive career by earthly 
 gravitation, while its orbit is again distm'bed 
 by other tendencies, some aiding its primary, 
 some its secondary motion. The earlier styles 
 certainly appear (to me, at least) to have more 
 of the heavenly, the later more of the earthly ele- 
 ment. In the one, religion seems to hold sway, 
 while human ingenuity holds a more prominent 
 
fnr ^ktmi Jh^iu, 79 
 
 position in the other; but though the human 
 element unhappily at length prevailed, the 
 nobler impulse seems to strive to the very last 
 to regain its early influence, as if unwilling to 
 yield up its glorious offspring to a low and 
 earthly claimant. 
 
 In limiting our question to the various forms 
 of pointed architectm-e, I do not for a moment 
 admit that Romanesque is other than a purely 
 and truly Christian style ; no style, perhaps, 
 is more calculated to solemnize the mind ; it 
 vras purely the offspring of the Christian 
 church, but, having been developed out of 
 materials not exclusively Christian, it was 
 wanting in some of the more ennobling and 
 glorious sentiments of our religion. It is too 
 awful in its solemnity, and while it aptly sym- 
 bolizes the Church against which the gates of 
 hell shall not prevail, it fails in representing 
 the milder, or even the more triumphant fea- 
 tures of our religion, and does not convey the 
 idea of the " Beauty of Holiness." This, the 
 architects of the later Romanesque period seem 
 to have been ever unconsciously striving to em- 
 body, though they still failed to do so, till the 
 pointed arch, with its wondrous accompani- 
 ments, appeared at length as the result of their 
 
80 cjinirB Df a ltt[b 
 
 labours, and gave a new tone to the whole art. 
 The exclusion then of Romanesque from our 
 present question, so far from involving the 
 unchristianizing of that deeply religious style, 
 rather does honour to it as the parent of that 
 style which we call, in some sense exclusively, 
 because the most perfectly. Christian. The later 
 Romanesque architects were ever earnestly 
 labouring for the developement of a style more 
 perfectly symbolizing their religion, and pointed 
 architectm-e was at once the result of their 
 labours, and its rich reward. I cannot for a 
 moment agree to Mr. Freeman's idea* that it 
 was a foreign and antagonistic principle, which 
 long contended with its predecessor; on the 
 contrary, it seems to me to have been (though 
 in some countries the artists were slower in per- 
 ceiving it than in others) the point at which 
 all the strivings of Romanesque were aimed, 
 
 * See Freeman's " History of Architecture." I do not 
 dispute his theory, that the pointed arch, as a leading 
 principle and element, might have been brought back 
 by the Crusaders from the East, but I contend that it 
 was the very element vphich was wanting to satisfy the 
 earnest cravings of the existing style, and that, had it 
 not made its appearance from the East, it would have 
 arisen spontaneously or appeared from some other 
 quarter. 
 
for Jj^xtml Slkjitinti. Bi 
 
 the very goal to which it was ever pressing 
 forward; and that in our return to it, we 
 honoiu: the Romanesque architects fully as 
 much as those who succeeded to, and perfected 
 theu' labours.* 
 
 If this \'iew^ be correct, we need not wonder 
 at the majestic mien assumed by pointed ar- 
 
 * Though the line of argument T have taken for 
 conservative restoration, has been chiefly founded on the 
 remains of Pointed architecture, being the material on 
 which we are to found the Christian style of the future, 
 I need hardly say that I would apply the same princi- 
 ples with equal, if not greater care, to the venerable 
 remnants of earlier styles. The claims of all vestiges 
 of antiquity upon respect and preservation, on merely 
 historical and archaeological grounds, are so strong that 
 they scarcely need to be enforced by argument. Those 
 who would feel but little scmple in tampering with an 
 old church, would often, and veiy justly, object to the 
 destmction of a fragment of Roman or Druidical art, 
 however rude or unimportant, from an instinctive feel- 
 ing of the value of every footstep of ancient history ; 
 but how infinitely stronger must be the claims of those 
 works which are not mere indirect illustrations of secu- 
 lar events, but are the direct exponents of the history 
 of the Church ; and which, in addition to their, often 
 extraordinaiy, merit as works of art, are the connecting 
 links between the ecclesiastical architecture of primitive 
 Christendom and that which we hold to be the style 
 most perfectly symbolizing our religion. 
 E 2 
 
S2 (£;linitt d! a i\r\k 
 
 cliitecture from its very birtli. I do not refer 
 to those buildings wliicli merely dijffer from 
 Romanesque iu having, in some parts, pointed 
 arches ; these merely show the introduction of 
 the element before its use was perceived, — 
 I mean, rather, that style which, though con- 
 fessedly imperfect, astounds the beholder with 
 its unearthly majesty, such as is seen in the 
 ruins of Tynemouth, of Byland, and of Glas- 
 tonbury, and in a varied form at Cantcrbmy, 
 at Chartres, and at Sens ; in all of which the 
 great principles of pointed architecture stand 
 triumphantly forward, even before the pointed 
 arch itself had fully assumed its sway. 
 
 In viewing these glorious remains, one is 
 sometimes led for a moment to believe, that 
 the perfection of the art is to be found at its 
 very first appearance, and that all subsequent 
 developements must be needless refinements, 
 perfecting, but to enervate the style. If we 
 go, however, from Byland to Rievaulx, we 
 shall be satisfied that the art was not yet to 
 be checked in its upward course. We see 
 there, indeed, in the refectory, a noble rem- 
 nant of the earliest phase ; but how astonishing, 
 and almost overwhelming, is the first view of 
 the interior of the transept and the choir ! 
 
Now, if we could forget all other styles, we 
 should feel siu'e that perfection had been at- 
 tained ; and if from Rievaulx we could be 
 successively transported to the Lady Chapel of 
 Fountains, the choir of Beverley, and the ga- 
 lilee and " presbytery " of Ely, we should rest 
 satisfied that no further advance was needed : 
 all is perfect, from the majestic thought which 
 planned the whole, to even the most minute 
 moulding or carved enrichment ; and all seems 
 most perfectly to symbolize, both the awfid 
 majesty and the exalted purity of the holy 
 religion from which it emanates. 
 
 If, however, we turn from these stately 
 visions, and visit the sad but lovely ruins of 
 St. Mary's at York, and go from thence into 
 the noble chapter-house of the neighboming 
 minster, then view the " presbytery" of Lincoln, 
 and the unrivalled sanctuary of St. Peter at 
 Westminster, we shall be constrained to admit 
 that the heavenly impulse which raised Char- 
 tres and Glastonbiu'y had not yet lost its 
 vigour ; and we shall be astonished at the ap- 
 pearance of a new element of beauty, of which 
 the most perfect of the earlier buildings had 
 scarcely given a hint ; and while we desire no 
 beauty more perfect, and no embodiment of 
 
84 cljnirt nf a ItqlB 
 
 our religion more complete, than we see in 
 these buildings, we shall not, as heretofore, 
 be disposed to set a limit to the expansive 
 principle, for we shall see in the simple forms 
 of the traceried windows, an element of un- 
 limited capability. This, we shall soon see 
 carried out to the full in the nave of York, and 
 in the progression from east to west of the 
 windows at Exeter ; though, among the intri- 
 cacies which even now meet the eye, it is pos- 
 sible that we may occasionally look back with 
 regret upon Ely or Westminster. 
 
 We now find a softer element beginning to 
 show itself — the geometrical angularity of the 
 tracery lines begins to be relieved by the 
 double or flowing curve. This is at first felt 
 to be a gain, as is sweetly exemplified in that 
 gem of art, the gateway of St. Augustine's at 
 Canterbury, and must once have been still 
 more beautifully shown in that most lovely of 
 chapels, St. Stephen's at Westminster. The 
 leading forms still retain the more rigid out- 
 line of the earlier tracery, while the minor 
 portions are softened and sweetened by the 
 flowing curve.* This is a stage on which 
 
 * It lias been well remarked, that in the earlier 
 tracery the form of the lights was most studied, while 
 
fnr ^rmiit 5lk|itinn. 85 
 
 the eye delights to Hnger : one of those lovely 
 resting-places where one would fain cease to 
 follow its restless course. Though one of the 
 most charming, however, it is the most short- 
 lived and the most rarely to be found of 
 all the varieties we have to consider ; it is 
 merely the transition between two of the 
 greatest divisions of the style. The softened 
 line, which at first only relieves, soon sup- 
 plants the geometrical curves of the earlier 
 tracery, and though it generates new and 
 exquisite beauties, it cannot but be admitted 
 that it tends to enervate the art, and that in 
 many buildings of this age we look in vain for 
 that noble and vigorous beauty which we de- 
 lighted so much in contemplating dming its 
 earlier course. 
 
 The next change which we meet mtli in 
 
 in the later, the outline of the tracery-har has been most 
 attended to ; and while the last merits its share of at- 
 tention, it seems clear that, as a window is essentially 
 an opening or a combination of openings, the forms of 
 its lights, rather than of the lines which separate them,, 
 have the first claim upon consideration. The last- 
 named variety seems to be the latest in which this 
 claim was fully admitted, and it unites, perhaps, more 
 than any other, the beauty both of openings and of the 
 lines. 
 
86 cjinitr nf a |ti|le 
 
 English arcliitecture, seems to have been in- 
 tended as a revival of the early and masculine 
 vigour, which had been gradually lost dm-ing 
 the prevalence of the luxurious flowing line. 
 The "perpendicular" of AVinchcster and of 
 Westminster Hall has infinitely more vigour 
 than the style which it supplanted ; and 
 though it may contain the elements of its OAvn 
 decay, it cannot but impress the unbiassed 
 observer as a bold attempt at stemming the 
 torrent of architectural luxury, and as, in some 
 degree, a falhng back upon earlier and more 
 vigorous principles.* In no building is this 
 felt more, perhaps, than in the church of 
 Boston, where the interior of the tower con- 
 trasts most nobly with the enervated, though 
 in this case not luxurious, character of many 
 of its earlier parts. I do not wonder at this 
 appearing to some minds to be the highest 
 point of perfection, particularly when taken in 
 connexion with the majestic towers, the 
 splendid roofs, and gorgeous screen and ta- 
 bernacle work, which accompanied it, and that 
 power of giving unity to tlie general effect, 
 which has led Mr. Freeman to consider it, 
 
 * I am glad to observe that Mr. Poole has taken 
 quite the same view as that here expressed. 
 
far ^c^rmiit ^Ikjitinn. 87 
 
 more than any other, to merit the name of the 
 " continuous style." 
 
 Without at all agreeing with Mr. Freeman 
 in his relative view of the merits of this style, 
 I think that no unprejudiced observer would 
 refuse to acknowledge the wonderful creations 
 which we owe to it, whether in its earlier or 
 its later phases.* Viewing its buildings exter- 
 nally, wliat chm'ch, for instance, presents so 
 noble an aspect as does Canterbury Cathedral 
 when viewed from without the city on the 
 north-west, whence its earlier parts are scarcely 
 seen ? AVhere do we find nobler steeples than 
 at Taunton, Wrexham, Gloucester, or Boston ? 
 or lovelier than those of Magdalene College, or 
 the smaller of the stately towers of Somerset ? 
 Though I admit with sorrow that it contains 
 at every stage some element of decay, I cannot 
 
 * Nearly all writers on Gothic architecture seem to 
 delight in vilifying its later stages. To myself, I con- 
 fess, it would be impossible to speak of the naves of 
 Winchester and Canterbury, the choirs of York and 
 Gloucester, the mighty hall of Westminster, or its 
 miniature imitation at Eltham, the roofs and screens of 
 Norfolk, and the towers of Somerset, otherwise than in 
 terms of deep respect and admiration — feelings in no 
 degree lessened by my strong opinion as to the compa- 
 rative merits of the early styles. 
 
88 Cjjnb nf a Itqk 
 
 but tliiuk that this very fact shows the won- 
 ders of pointed architectm-e in the stronger 
 hght ; for vdih the seeds of dissolution ever at 
 work within, how mighty must have been the 
 impulse which caused it to produce, even in 
 the latest of its stages, that endless train of 
 beauties which the architects of the earlier 
 periods never dreamed of, but without which 
 we should feel the style, as a whole, to be 
 imperfect ! 
 
 After viewing the wonderful succession of 
 glories which followed the whole course of 
 pointed arcliitectm*e, Ave need not feel surprise 
 that among persons of differently constituted 
 minds, almost every variety may, to one or 
 another, seem the point of perfection ; and 
 we must admit, that it is nearly impossible to 
 arrive at a certain conclusion on such a ques- 
 tion. Only one mode has ever occurred to 
 me of ascertaining the true position of that 
 culminating point which we all wish to dis- 
 cover ; and this is, by carefully studying the 
 differences to be traced out in the courses 
 taken by pointed architecture, in the various 
 countries in which it most flourished ; and by 
 observing whether they differed througlioiit, or 
 had any points in common ; and what theory 
 
fnr ^kiMui Slkjitinn. 89 
 
 seems to bring the apparent points of perfec- 
 tion attained in eacli country, most nearly to 
 a clirouological coincidence. This leads to a 
 result which seems to promise much, though, 
 after all, I do not know how we can with cer- 
 tainty test its value. 
 
 The series of changes, from the early Ro- 
 manesque to the establishment of pointed 
 architecture, and thence again to its final ex- 
 tinction, differs materially in the difierent 
 countries of Europe ; all, however, seem gra- 
 dually to approach nearer and nearer to one 
 another, till towards the close of the 13th 
 century, when all appear, though by diff'erent 
 routes, to have arrived, in the main at least, 
 at the same point ; and though some differ- 
 ences still remained, as might be expected 
 from shght varieties in climate, and materials, 
 and local habits, the essential principles and 
 elements of the style at that time were per- 
 fectly coincident in France, Germany, and 
 England. This coincidence, however, was of 
 short duration; for from this point all again 
 diverged, so that, at the time of the final 
 extinction of the style, its national varieties 
 differed as widely as at its commence- 
 
90 ^m nf a Itijlc 
 
 ment.* It is by no means self-evident, nor 
 do I know of any argument to prove it, that 
 this coincidence of principles and details at 
 one particular epoch is a proof of its being 
 the culminating point in the style : it happens, 
 however, to be the very point which, perhaps, 
 the majority of those who have thought on the 
 subject, judging only from aesthetic evidence, 
 have selected as about the period of perfec- 
 tion ; and if we must select a style other than 
 a local one, an era of general rather than of 
 national perfection, this period of coincidence, 
 to say the least, comes in very conveniently, 
 as the only one which can be shown to be 
 applicable to all the principal countries where 
 the pointed style prevailed. 
 
 If, for instance, as one valued friend of my 
 own would m*ge, we seek perfection in the 
 proud severity of our earliest pointed, such as 
 Byland or Glastonbury, we shall be making 
 but a local choice ; for, though more or less 
 prevalent in France and Flanders, it is hardly 
 
 * This Hue of argument first occurred to me iu 1844, 
 when selecting and advocating the style I adopted in 
 my design for the rebuilding of the Church of St. Ni- 
 cholas at Hamburg. 
 
fur ^kmni ilkptinn. 91 
 
 to be found in Germany, where the national 
 taste still lingered on perfecting Romanesque 
 forms. If we assume our own most fully de- 
 veloped " lancet" style to be the most perfect, 
 and select the nave of Lincoln, or the magni- 
 ficent choirs of Whitby or of Rievaulx, as our 
 types, we shall find ourselves still more at a 
 loss in choosing for our neighbours, as the 
 favoured variety is, in its full clevelopement, 
 nearly unknoA^n among them ; for while we 
 were lingering on and perfecting this insular 
 phase of art, the Fi'ench had rejected its simple 
 elements with disdain, and were engaged in 
 mighty strivings after more advanced clevelope- 
 ments ; wdiile the Germans, awakening from 
 their Romanesque entrancement, had left the 
 first stage of pointed architecture unused, and 
 nimbly stepped at once into the precocious 
 attainments of the French. If, again, as is 
 now the fashion amongst us, we choose our 
 flowing tracery as the great element of beauty, 
 we shall again find ourselves at fault with om* 
 neighbours, for here we had made, in our turn, 
 a stride in advance of them all ; while, if we 
 choose with Mr. Freeman oiu* perpendicular 
 style, we shall fail to find a vestige of it in any 
 country but our own. If, then, oui* choice 
 
92 cljnirt nf a IttjU 
 
 must be one fitted for European adoption, we 
 must be content to rest at the point in which 
 the courses of the several nations intersect and 
 coincide, which is the era of our " geome- 
 trical," or " early middle pointed style." 
 
 We will now inquire, Wliat are the internal 
 claims of this style for the honour of standing 
 first among its brethren ? and will commence 
 by clearing the question of the claims of those 
 varieties which, whatever may be their intrinsic 
 beauties, have not, as it appears to me, any 
 great pretensions to the highest place. The 
 earliest variety, then, of pointed architecture, 
 as seen in Canterbury, Byland, and Glaston- 
 bury, though one of the noblest and most 
 deeply impressive, we must (notwithstanding 
 the advocacy of Pather Martin and some 
 others) strike off from our list of claimants, 
 as never having been fully developed, and as 
 being, with all its spirituality and sublimity of 
 feeling, confessedly imperfect in many essential 
 featm'es ; as not having been, in fact, dwelt 
 upon long enough to bring it to anything like 
 perfection. The French variety of this date 
 being nearly the same as the English, cannot, 
 though it has produced structm-es won derf idly 
 sublime, claim, any more than our own, the 
 
fnr l^kmnl ^h^lin. 93 
 
 honour of being the most perfect among its 
 compatriots ; while the German architecture of 
 that period cannot be considered as a genuine 
 member at all of the pointed family. 
 
 Stepping on to the furthest end of the list, 
 we must, I think, in spite of the able advocacy 
 of Mr. Freeman, and the less direct support of 
 Mr. Petit, strike oif at once the entire perpen- 
 dicular style; for, with the highest sense of 
 the beauties which it added to the great stock 
 of Christian art, and of the debt of gratitude 
 which we owe to it, for having supplied many 
 a hiatus which had been left by the previous 
 styles, few can, I think, fail to perceive in it, 
 a want of that warmth of religious feeling 
 which is to be found in the works of earlier 
 periods ; and it seems impossible to follow it 
 through its course, from the vigorous w^orks of 
 Wykeham to the enervated productions of the 
 latest artists, without being compelled to admit 
 that, whatever may have been the inward 
 strivings of the vital principle, and however 
 exalted the religious feehng of some, and the 
 artistic power of most of its architects,* it 
 
 * This style appears to depend more than any other on 
 the individual genius of the architect. The earlier 
 styles seem to possess an intrinsic and inherent inspira- 
 
94 (DjiDirr nf n Itijlc 
 
 must have contained some essential principle 
 of corruption and decay, and that its final 
 extinction was not brought about solely by 
 external causes. Nor do I limit this opinion 
 to our own perpendicular ; it seems to me to 
 apply, even more strongly, to the flamboyant 
 style of France, and to its fantastic contempo- 
 rary in Germany, in both of which, wonderful 
 as were the works which they produced, and 
 elegantly beautiful as are the earlier and purer 
 specimens (in some instances, indeed, hardly 
 distinguishable from works of an earlier age), 
 we still cannot fail to acknowledge, that 
 throughout, religious feeling was giving way to 
 human ingenuity, and that the whole vigour- 
 and beauty of the art were at length worn out 
 and lost by the constant strivings after new 
 and fantastic combinations. 
 
 We have now reduced the claimants to 
 
 tiou, which rendered their productions fine, through 
 whatever hands they came ; while in the later stj'les the 
 hand of the artist is everywhere apparent, either for 
 good or evil, and we feel that the merit of the work is 
 the result of, and is wholly dependent upon, the skill 
 and sentiment of its constructors. This applies also 
 veiy decidedly, though in a less degree, to the buildings 
 of the " flowing" style. 
 
fnr ^kmni 5lk|ifiDii. "95 
 
 three, whose merits appear at first sight so 
 nearly equal that it is certainly no easy matter 
 to decide between them. Beginning with the 
 earliest, there can be no doubt that our own 
 lancet, or early English style, is the only variety 
 of the "first pointed" which can claim to be 
 in itself a perfect style. In other countries 
 this variety was merely transitional, but here it 
 was developed into a perfect and consistent 
 whole. As it cannot possibly be shown that 
 mullioned and traceried ^Wndows were, in the 
 nature of things, a necessary condition to the 
 perfection of a style in which the vertical 
 principle and the pointed arch were the two 
 leading elements, there is no ground for pro- 
 nouncing a style to be essentially imperfect 
 merely because it does not admit of this con- 
 dition. Our own lancet style, then, is, I would 
 contend, a perfect developement of Christian 
 and pointed architecture, subject only to the 
 condition that its windows shall be distinct 
 perforations; and that, subject to this condi- 
 tion, it is in most respects at least as perfect, 
 and in many respects more so, than any other 
 of its varieties. 
 
 " England," says Mr. Freeman, " produced 
 a style of her own, inferior to none in piu-ity 
 
96 cljnin nf a Itijb 
 
 of Gothic principle, and surpassing every other 
 in the matchless beauty of its detail." 
 
 This style may well be the pride of Eng- 
 lishmen; for not only is it almost exclusively 
 our own, but it has produced a train of cathe- 
 drals, abbeys, and other churches, the most 
 glorious which our land can boast. Almost nine- 
 tenths of our most magnificent churches owe 
 their chiefest beauties to this style ; and with 
 whatever other variety of pointed architecture 
 it is brought in contact, its merits shine forth 
 pre-eminently, and, so far from suffering, gain 
 additional lustre by the comparison. Had it 
 not been that other elements had been intro- 
 duced, which, though not essential to pointed 
 architecture, add immeasurably to its complete- 
 ness, we should never have dreamed of any want 
 of perfection in the works of this period ; but 
 after knowing of these additional elements, we 
 cannot but acknowledge that, though subject to 
 its own conditions, our lancet style is perfect 
 — they themselves fail of perfection — and that 
 how glorious soever are many of the combina- 
 tions of lancet windows, a style which admits 
 of no other kind is in bondage to its own con- 
 ditions. I contend, then, that this stvlc would 
 successfully claim the palm, had it not been 
 
fnr ]}xmui ^Hkjitinii. 
 
 97 
 
 that it excluded miillioned and traceried win- 
 dows, and some minor features, which from 
 habit have become almost indispensable. 
 
 We will, then, step forw^ard to the style 
 whose highest glory is in those features which 
 that last considered did not admit, and inquire 
 into the claims of that period when the window- 
 heads were filled with never-ending combina- 
 tions of flowino- tracerv — when the risrid stone 
 had been rendered plastic, and taught to bend 
 and entwine itself with all the endless rami- 
 fications of vegetable life. If the perfection of 
 elegance is what we desiderate, we have now 
 attained it; not only are the windows tilled 
 with the most exquisite tracery, but the taber- 
 nacles, the pinnacles, the screen-work, and 
 every part of the building, are decorated A\'ith 
 an elegance and richness which nothing can 
 surpass. 
 
 I would ask, however, Do we feel this style 
 to give us all we want ? are softness and flexi- 
 bility the great characteristics of our religion ? 
 or do we feel that elegance and luxurious 
 beauty are the elements most needed for the 
 architecture of a Christian temple ? * Do we 
 
 * " The straight Ihie, the circle, and the right angle 
 — types, as it were, and expressions of direct, straight- 
 
 r 
 
not, in short, look back with regret on the 
 solemnity and religious feeling displayed in 
 the earlier styles, and feel the want of the deep 
 mouldings, the bold and effective detail, and 
 the general grandeur and nobleness of concep- 
 tion, of the " Early English " style? Those avIio 
 do not feel this will at once give the palm of 
 relative perfection to the flowing style, while 
 those who do acknowledge such a want will 
 perhaps seek, (with an able writer in the 
 " Ecclesiologist,)" for some developement which 
 will unite the grandeur of one style with the 
 elegance of the other. (See Note G.) 
 
 I Avould, however, now ask, as we are not 
 treating of possible future developements, but 
 simply of those already attained, Avhether we 
 have not the nearest approach to that union in 
 the only style which yet remains for our consi- 
 deration ? I will not assert that the " Geome- 
 
 fonvard, measured, stern duty and action — are every- 
 where deserted or disguised." * * * " Menials 
 branch off into various irregular curves, circles become 
 pointed and flowing ovals, and instead of simple curves 
 we have ogees and spirals ; crockets and finials become 
 more undulating in their outlines, and even buttresses 
 desert the right angle, and meet the corners of the 
 building which they support obliquely." — Poole 
 
fnr fmmi Slkptinn. 99 
 
 trical" variety of the " Middle Pointed" either 
 embodies ail the grandeur of the " Early Eng- 
 lish" or a/i the elegance of the flowing style : 
 all we need for the present argument is, that it 
 does more towards uniting then' essential beau- 
 ties than any other hitherto attained. If we 
 take the style in its entire range, from the 
 Abbey of St. Peter to the Royal Chapel of St. 
 Stephen, at Westminster (though this is perhaps 
 claiming for it somewhat more than its own), 
 we may find within it really all the most valued 
 features of the competing styles ; but without 
 grasping at an undue range, do we not find, 
 in the Angel choir of Lincoln (pronounced by 
 Mr. Paley " the most perfect structure, both 
 within and without, in England"), in St. Mary's 
 Abbey at York, in the chapter-houses of 
 York, Westminster, Southwell and Wells, in 
 the sad but glorious fragments of Newstead 
 and of Guisborough (see Note H.), and above 
 all in the pride of Christendom — the Minster of 
 Cologne, a union of nearly all that is noble in 
 our early English, and all that is really essen- 
 tial to beauty in our more luxurious flowing 
 style ? And while our national feelings are flat- 
 tered by the recollection that both of the last- 
 mentioned styles may (in the fulness of their 
 
100 €^ (Tjinitr nf e ftqlr 
 
 developement at least) be claimed as our own, 
 ought not our feelings, as citizens of a Avider 
 land, to lead us to rejoice that the style which 
 does most to unite theu' varied beauties is one 
 not belonging to this or that particular coun- 
 try, but is t/ie one and only variety of pointed 
 architecture, which, as I have before shown, is 
 common to all the most favoured nations of 
 Christendom ? 
 
 The merits of the " Geometrical," as com- 
 pared with the " Lancet" style, lie in those 
 qualities which probably led Dr. Whewell to 
 call it " complete Gothic." Its great merit, in 
 short, consists in its completeness. The lancet 
 style is a perfect developement, but subject to 
 incomplete conditions. The earliest geome- 
 trical is nearly identical with the lancet style, 
 excepting that it adds to it an entirely new 
 developement of that most important feature, 
 the window ; while the middle and later geo- 
 metrical add a new and more perfect kind of 
 pinnacle and tabernacle work, and substitute 
 for the merely conventional foliage of the ear- 
 lier styles, direct and perfect imitations of the 
 productions of nature. It is to these important 
 additions that the style owes its completeness. 
 
 Its merits, as compared with the flo^nng 
 
for ^ktmi !>lkptinn. 101 
 
 style, consist chiefly in its retention of the 
 mascuhne and vigorons character of earher 
 days. The flowing tracery, though to some 
 eyes more perfect, is too soft and feminine in 
 its beauty to be admitted as the main charac- 
 teristic of a perfect style. It may be that 
 philosophical theories demand that more per- 
 fect union and continuity of lines which it 
 presents ; but less perfect though it may pos- 
 sibly be in theory, I think it can hardly be 
 denied that the geometrical tracery, in its best 
 forms, harmonizes better with the grandem* 
 and majesty which should characterize a 
 Christian church ; or that historically, whether 
 essentially or not, the flowing Inie has been 
 found, with all its sweetness, to be an element 
 of enervation and decay. 
 
 The style whose comparative merits I am 
 advocating, though but a semi-division under 
 the two usual systems of nomenclature, com- 
 prises in itself a very extensive range. Mr. 
 Rickman has, indeed, included its earlier stage 
 in his " early English" style, and were it not 
 for the one feature of window tracery, it would 
 clearly belong to it. The feature which most 
 decidedly separates this early phase from the 
 remainder of the style, is the general retention 
 
102 Cjiu (CljDirt nf n ltt{b 
 
 of the conventional foliage of the earlier times, 
 with the absence of tliat kind of crocketting, 
 tabernacle work and pinnacles, afterwards used. 
 The choir and transepts of Westminster, with 
 the chapter-house and parts of the cloister, 
 the eastern portion of Lincoln Cathedral, St. 
 Mary's Abbey at York, and the front of New- 
 stead Abbey, are among the best English types 
 of the first variety ; among tliem, hoAvever, the 
 natui'al foliage is often found side by side with 
 the conventional, particularly at Newstead, 
 where it appears in a perfection of beauty 
 never surpassed. 
 
 Tlie second phase is exemplified in the 
 chapter-houses of York, Southwell and Wells, 
 and more completely in the small remnant of 
 Guisborough Abbey, in the tower and spne of 
 Salisbury, the choir of INIerton Chapel, the 
 beautiful chapels of St. Etheldreda in Holborn, 
 and of Temple Balsall (the latter, perhaps, 
 being, like Tintern Abbey, transitional between 
 the two), a great portion of Exeter Cathedral, 
 the nave of Y'ork (excepting part of the western 
 end), the choir, Lady Chapel, and part of the nave 
 of St. Alban's ; and, in smaller works, in the 
 Eleanor crosses, and in the tombs of Edmund 
 earl of Lancaster at Westminster, of Arch- 
 
fnr ^c^rrsrnt Slimptintt. 103 
 
 bishop Peckham at Canterbury, and of Bishop 
 de Luda at Ely. The latest phase, which often 
 borders closely on the flowing style, is seen in 
 the exquisite church of St. Thomas at Win- 
 chelsea, the south transept of the Holy Trinity 
 Church, Hull, in the screen surrounding the 
 choir and in St. Anselm's Chapel at Canter- 
 bury, and in the few remaining portions of 
 St. Stephen's Chapel, and the tomb of Aymer 
 de Valence, at Westminster.* As, however, 
 the earliest and latest phases may, with some 
 justice, be claimed as belonging nearly equally 
 to the neighboming styles, I suppose that the 
 middle and most distinctly characteristic por- 
 tion is that which we must take as our ideal 
 type ; though, even were I not disposed to a 
 still more extended range, I should claim at 
 least the whole which I have marked out, as 
 the unquestionable and legitimate field for the 
 modern architect. 
 
 * I do not include St. Augustine's gateway and the 
 splendid hall of Mayfield Palace, because, though really 
 belonging to the same style, and perhaps not later in 
 date than several of the last which I have enumerated, 
 they contain so much of the flowing line as to shake my 
 claim upon them as specimens of the geometrical style. 
 These specimens, however, for purity of detail, yield to 
 no examples which I have met with, of any age. 
 
104 CijB Cjinb nf n Itijlc 
 
 Were we founding our inquiry on French 
 or German examples, I think we should, ^^dth 
 even less hesitation, arrive at the same result ; 
 and the more so, as we should not have the 
 strong claims of the distinctly developed lancet 
 or floMing styles to contend against. In Ger- 
 many, in particular, the superiority of one in- 
 dividual phase, and that but rarely met with in 
 its purity, and usually only in small portions 
 of the buildings, is peculiarly striking. It is 
 best exemplified in the earlier parts of Cologne, 
 at Altenberg, in the apse and one or two bays 
 more in the cathedrals of Xanten and Utrecht;* 
 in small portions of the cathedrals of Halber- 
 stadt and Magdeburg ; in the nave and lower 
 parts of the western fa9ade at Strasburg ; in 
 the tower and spire at Ereyburg ; and perhaps 
 in the beautiful church at Oppenheim. Mar- 
 burg is a shade too early, and much of the beau- 
 tiful work in the churches of St. Laurence, St. 
 
 * I have classed Utrecht Cathedral with German 
 churclies, as having been, I rather think, at the time of 
 its erection, considered to be in G ermauy, and as being 
 unquestionably German in style ; indeed, the best por- 
 tions of the works at Cologne, Altenberg, Xanten, and 
 Utrecht, would appear to have been designed by the 
 same hand, or at least to have proceeded from the same 
 lodge of Freemasons. 
 
fnr i[5rr0rnt Jlkptinn. 105 
 
 Sibald, and in the Frauen Kirclie at Nm-emberg, 
 is too late to be reckoned among perfect types. 
 
 In these countries, however, we have not, as 
 in England, to choose from among distinctly 
 developed styles, but rather to determine upon 
 a culminating point in a long course of gradually 
 progressive change ; so that we cannot follow 
 out quite the same line of argument as applies 
 to our own architecture. I have already given 
 reasons for rejecting the claims of their earliest 
 and latest styles. The remainder, instead of 
 consisting, as with us, of three, is in fact but 
 one style, the whole coming faii'ly under the 
 head of geometrical middle pointed, though 
 chronologically taking the place of our later 
 lancet, geometrical, and flomng styles. We 
 may, however, fairly set aside the earliest spe- 
 cimens as not being fully developed, and the 
 latest as having lost the vigour of earlier times, 
 and so concentrate ourselves upon the period of 
 the examples I have enumerated, as exhibiting 
 the most perfect type which their architecture 
 has produced. 
 
 The merits of the style w^hich we have thus 
 traced out are not limited to purely architec- 
 tural features. The sculpture of this period 
 appears to me to be superior in many respects 
 r2 
 
106 CjiB (Cljnirt nf a ItijU 
 
 to that of any other stage in medieval art. The 
 mode of designing figm'es and subjects had, 
 dm'ing earher periods, been founded on the stiff 
 Byzantine type ; about the time, however, of 
 the commencement of the style in question, 
 the artists of all the European countries simul- 
 taneously freed themselves from this bondage, 
 and struck out a style of their own of a very 
 superior and dignified character, and admirably 
 suited to architectural purposes. Though our 
 English churches have been nearly stripped of 
 these accessories, some few beautiful specimens 
 are still to be found. The celebrated sculpture 
 in the west front of Wells shows the opening 
 of the style, when only half freed from Byzan- 
 tine feeling. That to the noble south doorway 
 of the choir at Lincoln, and in the spandrils of 
 the interior, exhibits the style in great perfection, 
 as do some beautiful though mutilated figures 
 in the shattered front of Crowland. The full 
 perfection, however, of this style of sculpture 
 is displayed in the exquisite statues of Queen 
 Eleanor, which add such grace to her monu- 
 mental crosses, and the still more perfect effigy 
 of that queen in Westminster Abbey : the 
 latter being unquestionably the most elegant 
 figure, ancient or modern, which the Abbey can 
 
far ^^c^rmrut Jlkptlnn. 107 
 
 boast.* It is exemplified, also, in many beau- 
 tiful monumental effigies of the same period, as 
 well as in smaller figures, such as those which 
 decorate the monuments of Edmund earl of 
 Lancaster, and Aymer de Valence. In the 
 succeeding style, the sculpture, while sometimes 
 gaining elegance, loses force and dignity, and 
 during the fifteenth century (in England at 
 least) it rapidly declined. Abroad, it cannot be 
 said to have declined in the same manner, as 
 the extraordinary works of Adam KrafFt will 
 testify ; but, though standing high when viewed 
 as works of art, and even displaying a deep 
 religious feeling, we still look in them in vain 
 for the noble dignity of the earlier sculpture. 
 
 It would not, perhaps, be difficult to trace 
 the same general superiority in other arts ; as 
 in scidptured foliage, which never presented so 
 faithful an imitation of natm-e ;t and in stained 
 
 * I have lately found in the Chapter-house a veiy 
 fine full-length statue of this age, which, with the figure 
 of an angel which had been removed from a corresj^ond- 
 ing niche, seems to have represented the Annunciation. 
 Above, in distinct panels, are angels censing ; the whole 
 executed in that simple but earnest chai-acter which 
 marks the sculpture of this period. 
 
 t In the earlier styles, the foliage, though eminently 
 beautiful, was purely conventional. About this period, 
 
108 Cljr (Dljnitt nf n M^k 
 
 glass, which united much of tlie richness of ear- 
 lier periods with most elegantly-drawn foliage, 
 and, generally, better drawing in the figures. 
 The stalls at Winchester, at Cologne, and at 
 Obervvesel, are sufficient to prove that the 
 wood-carvers were not behindhand with those 
 in stone ; and the works of the goldsmith, and 
 of the workers in iron, brass, and ivory — of 
 the engravers of monumental brasses, and the 
 painters of miniature illuminations, without 
 perhaps being superior to those of their imme- 
 diate successors, seem to have kept pace with 
 the generally high state of art at their day. 
 
 We have now, by two distinct lines of rea- 
 soning, arrived at the same result ; we have 
 
 however, the artists throughout Europe, as if hy common 
 consent, fell hack upon uatui'e, and from this point they 
 again graduallj' diverged into conventionality. I am not, 
 however, sure, hut what a mixture of the conventional is 
 not advantageous to the effect of architectural foliage. 
 The strongly-marked, stalky outline of many of the fo- 
 reign capitals, is decidedly more effective than the more 
 garland-like arrangement of our own — an eiTect, in my 
 opinion, much heightened by the angular forms of their 
 abaci. The continual repetition of the round abacus is 
 a peculiarity in our own architecture, producing a mono- 
 tony which would be much relieved by the introduction 
 of other forms. 
 
fnr pxmui 2h^\m. 109 
 
 shown a pj-imd facie case in favour of this style, 
 as belonging to that one only period in AAhich 
 the varied courses taken by pointed architec- 
 ture in the different European countries coin- 
 cide, and as being, therefore, the only style in 
 the adoption of which all these countries can 
 agree : and we have subsequently arrived at 
 the very same point by a process of investigation 
 grounded solely on the comparative merits of 
 the styles themselves ; and with this doubly- 
 attained result I think we may pretty safely 
 rest satisfied. 
 
 The style we have thus arrived at, seems to 
 unite the grandeur and effective detail of the 
 earlier days of pointed architecture, with the 
 completeness of later works ; and I should be 
 well content for it to be taken as the nucleus of 
 future developements, though I would not allow 
 its ideal perfection to preclude us fi'om giving 
 varied expression to our buildings by occasion- 
 ally emulating the sterner sentiment of earher, 
 or the softer beauties of later times, nor to pre- 
 vent om- availing ourselves of those many useful 
 and beautiful apphances which we can learn 
 alone by studying our architecture in its latest 
 stages. 
 
 All of these belong, as I have before said, to 
 
110 #jjB iC^m nf E ItijlB 
 
 the great stock or treasury of Christian art : it 
 is our part to use them as best we cau, but it 
 may be reserved for our successors to weave 
 them into a harmonious whole. 
 
 The subject of future developements is one 
 which it is somewhat dangerous, as it is, I fear, 
 premature, to enter upon. It is dangerous, 
 inasmuch as experience proves that healthy de- 
 velopements have seldom, if ever, been arrived 
 at by deliberate intention, and that, when 
 attempted othermse than as resulting from 
 external circumstances, and from the gradual 
 and almost imperceptible progress of art, fitting 
 itself in each of its stages to the gradually 
 altering circumstances of its times, it has uni- 
 formly ended in frivolity and failure. It is 
 (as I fear) prematiu-e, because we have not yet 
 succeeded in securing a return from our de- 
 vious paths to the old and beaten track, and 
 even then, an interval of humble servihty would 
 be but a natural consequence of om- wander- 
 ings and our return. To say the least, we can 
 hardly hope to develope for ourselves tiU we 
 have become masters of the developements 
 already attained, which, with the most success- 
 fid, can hardly as yet be said to be the case. 
 
 It may not, however, be otherwise than 
 
far ]km\ii :Hiinjitinn. 
 
 l]l 
 
 useful to consider wliat m-e and what are not 
 the objects at which we should chiefly aim ; for 
 by keeping the odjecf in view, the means of 
 attaining it may, from time to time, sponta- 
 neously suggest themselves. 
 
 In the tirst place, then, it may be safely 
 concluded that the mere variation from ac- 
 knowledged styles, /or t/te sake of gaining an 
 individuality in om- own architectural existence, 
 is not one of the primary objects to he aimed at, 
 though it may probably come about, sooner or 
 later, from indirect causes. If we had already 
 attained a style perfectly suiting all existing 
 conditions, there could be no reason to depart 
 from it, unless those conditions should become 
 themselves changed. 
 
 Much less is mere eccentricity to be viewed 
 either as an object of aim, or as a means of 
 attaining useful developements. There are 
 architects who seem to think that such is the 
 case, and in their designs to be ever studying 
 where they can, with or without any reason- 
 able excuse, introduce little oddities and freaks 
 of fancy, such as we occasionally observe in old 
 buildings. They seem to scorn an ordinary 
 material, or a good straightforward door or 
 window, as the vulgar, every-day refuge of 
 
112 €jiJ €^m nf n ItqU 
 
 uninventive minds, and to imagine that genius 
 can alone exhibit itself in other features than 
 those which have usually been resorted to. 
 In ancient buildings we often find little quaint 
 features, used as means of getting over un- 
 avoidable or accidental difficulties, and these 
 add both beauty and interest to the structure ; 
 but these architects seem to be always getting 
 into difficulties to show their cleverness in 
 getting out of them, and to use these expe- 
 dients as objects of intrinsic beauty, or to add 
 spice to an otherwise insipid design, where 
 nothing whatever can be traced as leading to 
 them. It is clear that this striving after 
 quaintness and oddity is not one of the paths 
 to healthful developeraent. 
 
 It is almost needless to add, that develope- 
 raent cannot be expected from that most 
 numerous class of architects, who veil their 
 own ignorance of existing styles by an affected 
 contempt for those who look to what has been 
 as in any degree a stepping-stone to what 
 shall be. These persons aim at avoiding ser- 
 vility through the medium of ignorance, and 
 run down as mere copyists those who have 
 taken the pains to attain a knowledge of the 
 only styles which we can, as Christians or as 
 
far ^.^rrsnit 5lliD|rtinE. 113 
 
 Englislimen, call our own ; while they are 
 themselves every day producing some wretched 
 debasement of ancient pagan architecture, or, 
 if called upon to design " something Gothic," 
 show their superiority to those who acknow- 
 ledge ancient precedent, by bringing out such 
 performances as may be found disfiguring 
 most of our fashionable watering-places. It 
 may, then, safely be said that no developement 
 is to be attained otherwise than through the 
 medium of a perfect knowledge and appre- 
 ciation of pointed architecture as it has al- 
 ready existed. (See Note I.) 
 
 The legitimate objects to be hoped for from 
 developement are, perhaps, the follomng : — 
 
 I. The perfect adaptation of pointed architec- 
 ture to the altered requirements of our own day. 
 
 It is unreasonable to imagine that in revert- 
 ing to a style whose period of perfection was 
 more than five centuries back, and which has 
 been extinct for three, we should find it aU 
 ready to our hand, as if everything by which 
 society is influenced had been dormant during 
 the interval. When we for a moment reflect 
 upon the entire revolution in nearly every 
 custom and idea, which has during that period 
 taken place, it is truly wonderful to think that 
 
114 €\}i ifljnirt nf n Itqlt 
 
 its architecture should have revived, without 
 much greater difficulties and anomahes than it 
 is found to present ; and I think no stronger 
 argument could be adduced to show that it 
 contains some innate principle of universal 
 applicability, than the fact of its being found 
 so readily and naturally to fall in with our 
 present uses, when suddenly revived after three 
 centmies of continual and rapid revolution in 
 the habits and sentiments of society. 
 
 It would, however, be unreasonable to sup- 
 pose, that a style so long disused could be re- 
 vived in its ancient integrity without alteration 
 or addition ; and it may be safely laid down 
 as the first object of developement, to strike 
 off from the revived art those features which 
 belong not to it intrinsically, but were the 
 result of its adaptation to customs which have 
 for ever passed away, and to add to it such 
 other and new featm'es as are necessary to 
 render it a genuine and living art, suited to 
 the habits and requirements of our own age. 
 
 At present, the revival has assumed, for the 
 most part, an ecclesiastical character, — a cha- 
 racter in which the changes which have taken 
 place, great as they have been, are less felt 
 than in any other. But even here, there can 
 
far ^c^mrEt 5lk|itmii. 115 
 
 be no doubt that there is much room for 
 fittmg it more perfectly to our altered usages. 
 Unless, however, we suppose that pointed ar- 
 chitectm*e will become the sacred rather than 
 the universal language of art, it is clear that a 
 very wide field lies before us for rendering 
 more perfect its applicability to all the ordinary 
 objects of civil architectm^e. 
 
 II. Its adaptation to different climates and 
 to the usages of other countries ; and, what 
 concerns us most directly, to the varied cu'cum- 
 stances of the British colonies. 
 
 It is clear that it woidd be equally absurd 
 for Eno;lishmen to make use of theii* own archi- 
 tecture, unaltered, in Canada and in Hindostan; 
 or to build in the modern Greek style in the 
 Ionian Islands, and in the Indo-Saracenic or 
 the Hindoo in India. Om' architectm-e should 
 everywhere be both Englislt and Christian, but 
 should have in it that intrinsic principle of hfe 
 which would admit of its ready adaptation to 
 the climate of the torrid or the frozen zone, to 
 the scorched plantations of Jamaica or the icy 
 rocks of Labrador. The style should be essen- 
 tially one, but it should possess an elasticity 
 which would render it suitable to the most 
 varied external conditions. 
 
116 '^jjB clinb nf II IttjlB 
 
 III. The amalgamation of all which is really 
 beautiful and intrinsically valuable in tlie lii- 
 tberto attained developements of pointed archi- 
 tecture ; * and, while we take one period as our 
 nucleus or groundwork, the engrafting upon it 
 of all the essential beauties of the earlier or 
 later periods, especially those numerous and 
 almost necessary features handed down to us 
 through the medium of the later styles, and of 
 which we find few remaining counterparts of 
 earlier periods; and the fusing of the whole 
 into a style essentially one, yet capable of greater 
 variety of expression than can be commanded, 
 single-handed, by any one developement yet 
 attained. 
 
 IV. The infusion of real life and present ex- 
 istence into the subsidiary arts,f so as to render 
 
 * I may also suggest the introduction into our own 
 architecture, of some few elements from Continental 
 countries north of the Alps, and of accessories in the way 
 of painting and sculpture from Italy ; as also of mosaics, 
 precious marbles, and other decorations, not so gene- 
 rally used during the middle ages in northern counti'ies, 
 but now procured with greater facility. 
 
 f Mr. Pugin's new work on " Floriated Ornament " 
 is an important step in the right direction. He shows 
 how modern exotic flowers may be worked up into 
 beautiful patterns, without losing medieval feeling. I 
 may here mention, that I should have alluded to the 
 
for ^kimi ilkjitinn. 117 
 
 our sculpture, stained glass, and decorative 
 painting, not mere lifeless imitations of medieval 
 work, witli its obsolete costumes and manner- 
 isms, but the genuine offspring of tlie well- 
 tutored genius of the artist, harmonizing indeed 
 with the tone and feeling of the architecture, 
 and deeply imbued with the kind of sentiment 
 which is to be traced in the best medieval 
 works, yet still not really medieval, but rather 
 the reanimation of the genuine spirit of the old 
 artists, and its application to the expression of 
 the sentiments and conceptions of the modern 
 one ; always, however, premising that these 
 sentiments and conceptions are duly chastened 
 and tutored by a perfect knowledge of ancient 
 Christian art. 
 
 The copying of medieval costumes in corbel 
 heads, &c., is one of the absurdities which ought 
 first to be got rid of, and (though we must all 
 plead guilty of it) is really scarcely more de- 
 fensible than clothing the statues of the Duke 
 of ]\Iarlborough or Sir Cloudesley Shovel in 
 Roman armour, or exhibiting our great Enghsh 
 
 throwing opeu of the style for the admission of matex'ials 
 of modern introduction, and of the results of modern me- 
 chanical art, as being one of the desiderata to be aimed 
 at in future developements. 
 
118 cljnirr nf n ItijlB for ^ktmi ^Ihptinn. 
 
 lexicographer, in St. Paul's Cathedral, in a state 
 of classic nudity.* 
 
 In representing sacred subjects, the popular 
 errors or conventionalities of the middle ages 
 should be avoided, or at least revised. It is 
 marvellous enough that those who spent their 
 treasure and their blood in the defence of the 
 Holy Sepulchre should represent it as a little 
 Gothic altar-tomb, and that those who fought 
 in Egypt and Palestine should allow of the 
 popular pleasantry of painting the waves of the 
 Red Sea as literally r/ulcs ; but for us to be 
 guilty of the same absurdities, merely because 
 we find them in medieval works, is a proof of 
 an abject servility and want of life and reality 
 in our attem})ted revival, which is more than any- 
 thing discouraging to our hopes of its vitality. 
 
 I look upon these frivolities, however, as the 
 natural errors of the early days of revival, and 
 feel satisfied that they will not permanently 
 militate against the infusion into the reanimated 
 art, of a life and reality not belonging to ages 
 long gone by, but the distinct and genuine in- 
 spiration of our own. 
 
 * Mr. Harrison has pointed out the absurdity of our 
 usual practice in this respect in his published letter to 
 Mr. Bowdler. 
 
3, 
 
 Note A. Page 16. 
 
 The Basilican st5'^le seems at once to have revi- 
 vified the architecture of ancient Rome, and to have 
 purged it from many of its corruptions. It has been 
 shown by j\Ir. Hope, and more in detail by Mr. 
 Freeman in his admirable " History of Architecture/' 
 that the original germ of Roman architecture dif- 
 fered totally and essentially from that of Greece. 
 The one was founded upon the pier and arch ; the 
 other upon the column and entablature. The high 
 respect which the Romans entertained for the arts 
 and literature of Greece, led them from an early 
 period to engraft her architecture, which had already 
 been brought to perfection, upon the infant nucleus 
 of their own, — a union which corrupted the one, 
 and checked the developement of the other ; so that 
 the architecture of pagan Rome can only be said to 
 
120 lintri 
 
 be really beautiful, in those cases in which, as in the 
 finest of her temples, the Grecian type was almost 
 strictly followed, and in those great engineering 
 works, such as the aqueducts, in which it was entirely 
 excluded. It was reserved for Christian Rome to 
 give scope and freedom to the original germ of 
 Roman architecture, by freeing it from the incon- 
 gruous overlayings of Grecian art, so far at least as 
 the principle of the column and entablature can be 
 considered its essential feature. The diiFerence be- 
 tween the latest works of pagan, and the earlier 
 works of Christian Rome, is strikingly expressed by 
 the following detached passages from Mr. Hope : 
 
 " The architecture," he says, "of the heathen 
 Romans, in its deterioration, followed so regular 
 a course, that that which most immediately preceded 
 the conversion of its rulers to Christianity is also 
 the worst." While the early Christian buildings, he 
 says, "from their simplicity, the distinctness, the 
 magnificence, the harmony of their component parts, 
 had a grandeur which we seek in vain in the compli- 
 cated architecture of modern churches." 
 
 Note B. Page 26 
 
 &' 
 
 Mr. Ruskin, in his Lamp of Memory, goes far 
 beyond me in his conservatism ; so far, indeed, as to 
 condemn, without exception, every attempt at restora- 
 
tion, as inevitably destructive to tlie life and truth- 
 fulness of an ancient monument. He urges the care 
 and preservation of our ancient buildings by every 
 possible means, but deprecates the very thought 
 of their restoration. Were our old churches to be 
 viewed merely as monuments of the architecture 
 of bygone days^ I confess that I should cordially 
 agree with him ; for who would dream of restoring 
 the sculptures of the Parthenon^ or the hieroglj^hics 
 of Thebes ? Again, were it possible by present care 
 to nullify the effects oi past neglect, I would heartily 
 fall in with his advice. I would "watch an old 
 building with an anxious care." I would " guard it as 
 best I might, and at any cost, from every influence 
 of dilapidation." I would " count its stones as you 
 would the jewels of a crown ; set watches about it as 
 if at the gates of a besieged city ; bind it together 
 with iron where it loosens ; stay it with timber when 
 it declines :" or do anything and everything I could 
 to preserve it from the influences of time or the hand 
 of the spoliator. But, alas ! the damage is already 
 effected ; the neglect of centuries and the spoiler's 
 hand has already done its work ; and the building 
 being something more than a monument of memory, 
 being a temple dedicated, so long as the world shall 
 last, to the worship and honour of the world's 
 Creator, it is a matter of duty, as it is of necessity, 
 that its dilapidations and its injuries shall be re- 
 paired : though better were it to leave them untouched 
 for another generation, than commit them to irre- 
 verent hands, which seek only the memory of their 
 
 G 
 
122 mm. 
 
 own cunning, while professing to think upon the 
 stoneS; and take pity upon the dust of Sion. 
 
 * * * * " Yon ancient wall — 
 Better to see it totteiing to its fall 
 Than decked in new attire with lavish cost, 
 Form, dignity, proportion, grace, all lost!" 
 
 Note C. Page 26. 
 
 That there are exceptions, it would be absurd to 
 deny ; yet it is a dangerous word, and, like the 
 point of a wedge, seems to open the way for all 
 which I am protesting against. Each capricious 
 " restorer^^ claims for his own fancies this respectable 
 title. We hear constantly of such and such a church 
 being " uncommonly well done,^' and occasionally of 
 another work being a " conscientious restoration," 
 and in cither case, on examination, often find the 
 whole, or a great part of the ancient features, to be 
 masked or altered; and by some strange kind of 
 casuistry, each of these features is shown to have been 
 an exception to general rules. It is, unfortunately, 
 impossible correctly to define what are, and what are 
 not, legitimate exceptions ; they must of necessity be 
 left to the moral perception of the restorer, and this 
 is what renders it so absolutely necessary that his 
 mind should be tutored and subdued to correct 
 principles. 
 
»a 123 
 
 Mr. Petit, whose principles only fall short of INIr. 
 Ruskiu's in their conservatism, still approves of the 
 re-building of the north-west tower of Canterbury 
 Cathedral. " It is when alterations are really need- 
 less," he says, " that they should be condemned and 
 deprecated ; but many are absolutely demanded by 
 necessity ; some by taste. That the metropolitan 
 church of England should have an irregular imper- 
 fect front, was justly deemed objectionable, and in 
 this case there was no fear of error, the part already 
 before the architect served as a model for that which 
 was to be undertaken," &c. &c. Here, however, 
 there were three concurrent arguments in favour of 
 the work. First, it was the metropolitan church, 
 and was imperfect ; secondly, the design of the 
 front was extant in the part executed, and the ori- 
 ginal intention of completing it clear ; and thirdly, 
 the Norman tower was so shattered as to be danger- 
 ous, and it was almost necessary that it should be 
 rebuilt. The course in this instance was then quite 
 clear, though one cannot but lament the loss of the 
 venerable Norman tower. 
 
 I am sorry that I cannot make the same conces- 
 sion in favour of the alterations proposed (or made) 
 by my friend M. Dumont (the restorer of so many 
 of the Belgian churches), in the south transept of 
 the cathedral at Ypres, in which, for the sake of uni- 
 formity, he makes three portals where there were only 
 two, and thus both infringes upon the old arrange- 
 ment and alters or destroys much very beautiful and 
 interesting early work. On the other hand, at 
 
124 Untrs. 
 
 Cologne, where, through the tardy progress of the 
 ancient work, the north-west tower was not begun 
 till the beginning of the fifteenth century, and its 
 details are incipiently flamboyant ; I think there can 
 be no question about now carrying them out in 
 the style of the original drawing and the existing 
 southern tower. In the same way, w'cre I rebuilding 
 the lost wing to the western facade at Elj^, it would 
 be quite clear that no respect need be paid to the 
 " perpendicular" remains which are attached to its 
 scanty fragments; while, in the case of the Priory 
 church at Dunstaple, I cannot but deprecate the pro- 
 posed attempt (well-meant and not unskilful though 
 it may be) to restore the venerable west-front to 
 what may be conjectured to have been its condition 
 at some one particular stage of the multitudinous 
 series of changes it has undergone. It has now for 
 three centuries preserved a form in itself solemn and 
 im])ressive, though not perhaps, elegant ; its interest, 
 archBeologically, is derived from the almost inexpli- 
 cable intricacy of the changes of style which it 
 evinces ; and the whole is hallowed both by its age 
 and by association ; so that to deck it out in con- 
 jectui'al gables and pinnacles, and to clothe its stern 
 tower in modern trappings, would be, at great cost, 
 to destroy nearly all from which it derives its present 
 strong claims on our interest and veneration. To go 
 a little beside my subject, I may say that I would 
 not, if I had the power, remove the late erection 
 from the central arch of the fa^'ade of Peterborough; 
 it is initself a beautiful design, and though no one 
 
jJhtPl 135 
 
 would, from choice, wish it there were it away, it 
 it must be admitted that, by contrast, it adds to the 
 scale of the whole. Nor would I, if I could, re- 
 move the church of St. Margaret from beside West- 
 minster Abbey. Surely the benefactors and archi- 
 tects of the church, from the time of St. Edward the 
 Confessor down to Abbot Islip, were capable of 
 judging as to whether it injured the ejffect. I am 
 convinced that, were it not for its modernized garb, 
 it would be a valuable feature in the group. I need 
 hardly speak of deliberate and causeless alterations 
 of fine ancient designs, such as that of the west 
 front of St. Ouen, and, I fear, many others going on 
 in France : the case with them needs no comment. 
 
 I am sorry to have to mention, among the needless 
 alterations of ancient designs, the non-restoration of 
 St. Stephen^s chapel. I exerted myself some years 
 back to call attention to this, and the Cambridge 
 Camden Society actively interested themselves in 
 its behalf, but with no avail. How glorious and 
 truly noble an addition would this have made to the 
 new palace of Westminster, if restored in all its 
 ancient beauty, and made the chapel for the " High 
 Court of Parliament !" For the latter object, how- 
 ever, the exertions to which I allude were clearly 
 too late, though the unrivalled architecture of the 
 chapel might even then have been restored. 
 
126 MiB. 
 
 Note D. Page 31. 
 
 An original detail (especially in carving), though 
 partially decayed or mutilated, is infinitely more 
 valuable than the most skilful attempt at its restora- 
 tion. A decayed or broken capital or bas-relief 
 retains a beauty and an interest which can never 
 attach to a perfected copy ; and it is much better, as 
 a 2;eneral rule, to leave such fraa;ments of art to tell 
 their own story, which they will do with immeasure- 
 ably greater truthfulness without our aid. Re- 
 storers, even when disposed to be conservative, often 
 mistake the true meaning and object of restoration, 
 which is not to make the building look as if it were 
 new, but (so far as concerns the fabric) to put it in 
 seemly repair ; to replace features which have been 
 actually destroyed by modern mutilations, where they 
 can be indisputably traced ; to clear the ancient sur- 
 faces from modern overlayings; and to check the 
 progress of decay and dilapidation. The more of 
 the ancient material and the ancient surfaces remain, 
 and the less of new introduced, the more successful 
 the restoration. If more cannot be saved, even one 
 or tivo old bemossed stones in a window or a cornice 
 give value and truthfulness to the work ; but when 
 it is possible, all, or the great majority, of the old 
 stones should retain their untouched and un smart- 
 ened surface ; and even where a wall is of necessity 
 taken down, it is often possible, and would be always 
 desirable, to rebuild it stone for stone. There is an 
 individual character even in the old ashlar which 
 
Mntri 127 
 
 should not be overlooked ; so much so, that in the 
 absence of a single architectural feature the date 
 can often be ascertained by it : this, too, should be 
 observed and respected by the restorer. 
 
 It is impossible to take too minute care in ascer- 
 taining the true original section of mouldings to be 
 restored. Their fine " keels" and other smaller 
 parts are often so nearly erased by weather or fric- 
 tion, that they can hardly be distinguished, and sharp 
 arrises are converted into rounded edges, so that, 
 without most careful observation of the moulding in 
 every part, its true form may not be discovered. 
 Again, the sizes of the stones are an almost essential 
 feature in arches, &c., and if not attended to, the 
 whole assumes a new and modern garb. As an 
 early protest against unfaithfulness in these par- 
 ticulars, I give the following remarks of Mr. Carter 
 on the " restorations'* going on at his time in Dur- 
 ham Cathedral. 
 
 " It is a mortifying task to inform the reader, that 
 the whole of the west and south fronts (except the 
 great centre tower) of this august fabric have, within 
 these ten or fifteen years, been new faced ; the usual 
 consequence of which business is the doing away all 
 the small parts, and substituting a variety of bar- 
 barous ideas for the dressings in their stead ; but 
 why repine at this blow, trifling in comparison of 
 the general havoc now going on in every part of the 
 building ? The east front, the galilee, the chapter- 
 house, bishop's throne, altar screen, St. Cuthbert's 
 feretory, the nine altars, (all works venerated by the 
 
138 MtB. 
 
 admirers of ancient art), are now either receiving a 
 new-fangled dress, or falling beneath the workmen's 
 hands into imdistinguished dust !" 
 
 Note E. Pasre 32 
 
 o^ 
 
 By the careful preservation of these interesting 
 remains, we might hope to attain to a much better 
 knowledge of the true principles of coloured decora- 
 tion than we at present possess. Most modern 
 decorations seem to be derived either from the un- 
 aided imagination of the decorator, or from examples 
 unsuited to the positions in which they are followed. 
 The majority of such attempts, I confess, appear to 
 my own eye to border closely on barbarism. We 
 see mouldings, in which the effect of light and shade 
 has been studied with the most delicate care, be- 
 daubed with heavy and uncouth patterns, which 
 render the studious efforts of the mason invisible. 
 I confess that I tremble for an old church when 
 made over to the modern decorator. One error 
 most frequently fallen into is the overdoing of colour. 
 Rich and intense colouring, when used at all in an 
 old church, seem to have been limited to small spaces 
 or objects on which attention was wished to be 
 concentrated, while other parts, though frequently 
 covered with decoration, were nearly free from rich 
 colour, the patterns, whether mere ornament or 
 figures, being often only outlines on the walls in 
 
Mn. 129 
 
 crimson or murry colour. This system of decora- 
 tion has been attempted with considerable success 
 by Mr. Warrington, jun. in the little church of 
 Sanderstead in Surrey, where the spandrils of the 
 nave arcades are filled with groups of angels carrying 
 scrolls with inscribed texts, the whole drawn upon 
 the plain plaster, in a bold murry-coloured line, 
 without any further heightening than a little, not 
 very brilliant, colour upon the wings. The drawing 
 is certainly too luxurious, and the scrolls too much 
 flourished, but the general effect gives, at first sight, 
 quite the impression of old decorations. 
 
 The preservation of ancient fresco (or rather dis- 
 temper) decorations presents, in most cases, no ordi- 
 nary difficulties. They were themselves executed 
 upon a coating of colour laid over the stone and 
 plaster, and are now covered over with numerous 
 more modern coatings, some of them decorative, 
 some of plain whitewash. They are only to be 
 reached by carefully and laboriously scaling off these 
 successive incrustations, which is difficult to do with- 
 out taking off that also which we wish to preserve. 
 This can only be done by the hand of one who is 
 himself deeply interested in them. Thus their general 
 destruction, where restorations are going on, is a 
 subject rather of regret than blame; indeed their 
 preservation is often impossible : so that all which 
 can be hoped in some cases is that copies of them 
 should, so far as possible, be preserved. But how 
 can one sufficiently express one's sorrow for the de- 
 liberate and laborious destruction of many of those 
 g2 
 
130 Mb. 
 
 which were a few years back discovered at Eton 
 College Chapel ! There, no such difficulty existed : 
 the paintings were in oil, and upon ashlar work, 
 their preservation was almost complete, and in point 
 of merit, I can only say they were by far the finest 
 I have seen, indeed were worthy of Hans Hemliug, 
 to whose school they possibly belonged. The space 
 from the stalls to the window-cills (a very consider- 
 able height) had been left blank expressly to receive 
 them. The course was clearly either carefully to 
 restore them, or, if the subjects were deemed ob- 
 jectionable, to conceal them by rich hangings, which 
 could be drawn aside to allow of their being ex- 
 amined by the curious. It was determined, however, 
 to add canopies to the stalls, and as they would not 
 hide the upper range of subjects — if I remember 
 rightly, the more beautiful of the two — these were 
 deliberately tooled off by the masons, as, to my grief, 
 I myself witnessed. I regret to be obliged to make 
 a statement detractive from the praise due to this 
 important restoration, and must add that I believe 
 that the architect is not in the least responsible for it. 
 While on this subject, I cannot but express my 
 regret that in the restoration of the chapter-house at 
 York, the beautiful and most interesting decorations 
 (consisting of symbolical and other figures, &c.) of 
 the groining has not been followed, but some common 
 pattern substituted, I believe, however, that there 
 would have been no authority for their restoration 
 beyond Mr. Halfpenny's drawings, the paintings 
 themselves having been destroyed some years back. 
 
Intrs. 131 
 
 I hope that the patterns of the decoration of the 
 canopies to the stalls may have been preserved, and 
 will be restored ; as from their having been worked 
 in a very plain manner, expressly to leave spaces for 
 decoration, their appearance without it is both un- 
 satisfactory and unmeaning. 
 
 Note F. Pa2:e 70. 
 
 I doubt whether the exclusion of the laity from 
 the outer chancel, or choir, was ever, in ordinary 
 cases, very strict in practice, however it might ha\'e 
 been in theory. It is, perhaps, no great proof of this 
 that no such strictness is usual in continental 
 churches at the present day, and that their choirs 
 are often absolutely crowded with people of all 
 orders ; but it would appear hardly inconsistent with 
 reason, that there should be one part (the sanc- 
 tuary) from which they were absolutely excluded, 
 and one from which they were only debarred for the 
 sake of convenience and good order. Sparrow says, 
 — " In it " {i. e. the chancel) " were, at least in some 
 principal churches, these divisions : Chorus Canto- 
 rum, the Quire, where was an high seat for the bishop, 
 and other stalls or seats for the rest of the quire : 
 . . . and the Chancel properly, that which of old 
 was called aym ^rnxa, ' the Sanctuary,' which was 
 separated from the rest of the Church with rails, 
 and whither indeed none but sacred persons en- 
 tered; xuhereas the laity entered into the other." 
 
132 fntfi 
 
 As regards our own church, Hooker, in speaking 
 of the division in our churches " between the clergy 
 and the rest," adds in a parenthesis, " which yet we 
 do not with any great strictness or curiosity observe 
 neither." The fact is, that in our church it would 
 be impossible to carry it out to its fullest extent, yet 
 this is no reason for not doing so to as full an extent 
 as is reasonable and practicable ; and it is no great 
 thing to ask that, as a rule, the choirs of our 
 churches should be choirs in reality, and not in 
 name only, and that in general they should be so 
 in the strictest sense. I will not enter into the 
 question of whether the Prayers ought to be read 
 from tlie chancel or not, as it is one on which the 
 highest authorities diiFer. I believe that in all small 
 churches, and in churches built expressly for our 
 own communion, it might always be provided for, 
 and that the arrangement would be both more 
 seemly and more theoretically correct. I fear, how- 
 ever, that in the larger of our old churches practical 
 objections would be found often to exist. The am- 
 bones of the ancient Basilicse, the nearest parallel to 
 our reading-desk (though whether ever used, strictly 
 speaking, ior prayer I am not aware), were certainly 
 in the choir, but being elevated above the screens, 
 and the early choir being in the midst of the nave, 
 the case is not precisely parallel in respect of practical 
 convenience, a point which must not be denied its 
 due weight. In the curious ancient plan of the 
 monastery of St. Gall, made in the ninth century, 
 and a copy of which has been lately published by 
 
IMCI 133 
 
 Professor Willis in the " Archreological Journal," 
 the ambo (there probably the pulpit) is without the 
 choH", as arc also two reading-desks called ''^analogia 
 ad legendura ;" but whether vised for prayer is an- 
 other question which I have no means of answering, 
 though it could no doubt be I'eadily discovered by 
 the learned in ecclesiastical antiquities. 
 
 I ought not to omit to acknowledge the debt of 
 gratitude we owe to those who have recalled our 
 attention to the importance of these questions of ar- 
 rangement, particularly to the distinctive uses and 
 meaning of the three great divisions of a Church. 
 It may appear, now that such things are becoming 
 so generally acknowledged as almost to be taken as 
 matters of course, that it required no great amount 
 of learning or perception in ecclesiologists to per- 
 ceive them. This may be the case, but there are few 
 things so obvious but which, if once fallen into dis- 
 use, require the greatest effort, not only practically 
 to revive them, but even to call attention to the fact 
 of their ever having been intended as principles to 
 be acted upon ; and without such an effort on the 
 part of others who have the public press at their 
 command, I doubt if architects would have worked 
 out even these simple facts for themselves, even 
 though they were often floating indistinctly before 
 their minds. 
 
 I cannot, by the bye, help thinking that among 
 those to whom we are so much indebted in this re- 
 spect, there is a little error prevalent in advocating 
 the doing away with altar rails. If w^e are obliged 
 
134 Jh\t5. 
 
 to moderate the exclusiveness of the outer chancel, 
 which we do even by admitting an ordinary lay 
 choir though under the best discipline, does it not 
 seem reasonable that the sacrarium should continue, 
 as heretofore, to be railed off ? I admit that these 
 rails are a dissight, but we all know that they are 
 practically needed, and I confess it seems to me that 
 they are theoretically right ; they take, in fact, the 
 place of the more important cancelli of the earlier 
 churches, and if it is the legitimate carrying out of 
 the spirit of our ritual to reduce the exclusiveness of 
 the outer cancelli, I hold that it follows upon this 
 that it M'as so also to revive the inner ones. I was 
 a short time since in a church where they had been 
 done away with, and noticed a doc/ couching at the 
 foot of the altar table ; and in the church of St. Paul 
 at Brighton, where they are made moveable and 
 without gates, I lately observed that the verger had 
 tied a stick across the entrance with string, as a 
 hint to intruders. At Jesus Chapel at Cambridge, 
 the first impulse of visitors is to make a rush upon 
 the altar, and to examine the embroidery of its 
 covering ! 
 
 I take this opportunity of suggesting (which I 
 should have done more in place) the propriety of 
 making all seats, placed in situations not originally 
 intended for them, moveable, and the advantage 
 which may often be obtained by the use of chairs 
 instead of benches in such positions. 
 
Jh\U. 135 
 
 Note G. Page 98 
 
 O" 
 
 I refer to a very talented article in the " Eccle- 
 siologist" for June 1846, written in reply to a letter 
 from Mr. Freeman. The writer seeks the cv;lmi- 
 nating point by a kind of cleansing process, assuming 
 that the Romanesque element (to which he attributes 
 much which distinguishes the earlier from the later 
 half of the pointed style) is the antagonistic principle, 
 which is to be eradicated before we can look for even 
 comparative perfection. In this he seems to be vir- 
 tually agreed with Mr. Freeman, though the latter 
 calls it the "noncontinuous" principle. Each con- 
 siders it an element from which the style must be 
 cleared before perfection can be hoped for, and each 
 fixes the point at which (in England, at least) this 
 emancipation — this magna charta of architecture — 
 is attained, at precisely the same period, viz. the very 
 earliest stage of the flowing style. The style at 
 which the writer in the " Ecclesiologist " thus ar- 
 rives, is one stage later than that to which I have 
 been led by another line of investigation — a difference 
 much less than that of the premises from which the 
 two conclusions result. I do not think the Roman- 
 esque element (if, indeed, the stern rigidity and dis- 
 tinctness of parts in the earlier pointed be the result 
 of its Romanesque parentage, and I should love and 
 venerate it none the less for that) one at the eradi- 
 cation of which we should aim ; on the contrary, I 
 should view it as the framework — the very back- 
 bone — of pointed architecture, and that, when once 
 
136 fnta 
 
 got rid of, the substitution of flexibility for strength, 
 of soft beauty for severe grandeur, was the necessary 
 result. Thus we see in England, where its expulsion 
 was earlier, a new system of strength, and that one 
 of an artificial character, was soon resorted to (in the 
 perpendicular style) to supply the place of that which 
 was lost ; while in France, where the Romanesque 
 skeleton was at a later period thrown out of the 
 system, their architecture, though it continued to 
 exhibit ever new and wonderful forms of beauty, 
 seems to have lost, never to regain, the still more 
 essential principles of strength and power. 
 
 I am far from condemning the flowing curve as 
 of necessity destructive to dignity and strength of 
 character. I believe that liistorically it has proved 
 so, but that essentially it is only so when allowed 
 to preponderate over every other principle. As a 
 general rule, I think that its proper place is in the 
 minor details, and that it should be strictly subordi- 
 nate, and only used as a decoration and a relief to 
 the more severe lines which should form the frame- 
 work of the composition. In the earlier instances 
 in which we find it used, it was kept thus strictly 
 subordinate, and in the very earliest instances of 
 perpendicular work, as in the cloisters at Canterbury 
 and at Westminster, the very same has been the 
 case, differing only in principle from the earlier 
 transition, in that, in one the geometrical framework 
 consisted only of circles or figures composed of seg- 
 ments ; while in the other the vertical line was added 
 to the segments of circles : in each case, the geo- 
 
Mn, 137 
 
 metrical figures thus formed being filled with deco- 
 rations composed partly of flowing curves. 
 
 I difi'er little with the accomplished and admirable 
 person, to whom the article I have referred to is 
 usually attributed, as to my positive estimation of the 
 specimen which he selects as his type — Alan de 
 AValsingham^s three exquisite bays in the choir at Ely. 
 
 I think them a shade too late as a type, inasmuch 
 as they have not, so much as I should desiderate, 
 of the rigid framework of the earlier style ; but 
 they balance against this want, a distinctness in the 
 leading parts — the arcade, the triforium, and the 
 clerestory — to be found in no other specimen that I 
 am aware of, of that or even of the immediately preced- 
 ing age. Whence, however, do they derive that dis- 
 tinctness, which the fine taste and strong perception 
 of beauty of the author I take the liberty of alluding 
 to so fully appreciates ? Not only, as he admits, 
 from the mr/y pointed bays of Northwold's " Pres- 
 bytery,^^ which they adjoin, but actually, and I may 
 almost say directly, from the Romanesque bays on 
 whose foundation they stand ; for Northwold con- 
 tinued eastward the lines and proportions of the 
 Norman choir, and Walsingham, in rebuilding the 
 choir, did but return those very lines back again. 
 Thus the very feature which is admitted to be the 
 great source of perfection in this selected type is 
 bond fide a Romanesque one, and the case being 
 wholly exceptional, I hold that no argument can be 
 deduced from it as to the relative merits of the style 
 to which it happens to belong. 
 
138 
 
 Note H. Page 99. 
 
 The Abbey Church at Guisborough, though situ- 
 ated in one of the most unfrequented corners of the 
 island, and surrounded for a distance in some direc- 
 tions of thirty miles by dismal and uncultivated moor- 
 lands, must yet have been one of the most perfect 
 works which can be imagined. The only existing 
 remnant is the eastern wall of the choir ; but this 
 solitary fragment, though stern and simple in its ex- 
 ternal design, and though losing effect from the low- 
 ness of its gable (a provision, probably, against the 
 violent storms to which the neighbourhood is sub- 
 ject), is at once most majestic and beautifid. Tlie 
 extraordinary merits, however, of the design are 
 chiefly to be gathered from the interior. Mr. Sharpe 
 has in his " Parallels'' restored its features from the 
 portions still adhering to the eastern wall ; and from 
 his drawings, added to a personal knowledge of the 
 extreme beauty of the detail, I am led to believe that 
 few, if any, English buildings of its age present so 
 perfect and faultless a design. It belongs to the 
 middle portion of the style, in which the details are 
 unmixed with those of the early pointed, and in 
 which the foliage is free from conventional forms. 
 The triforiura, as at York and Cologne, is made to 
 form a part of the clerestory, though still distinctly 
 developed, while the details, though less bold than m 
 the early English, unite a sufficient amount of that 
 quality, with a richness quite equal to the finest spe- 
 cimens of the later style. It appears to have been 
 
Mrs. 139 
 
 imitated on a plainer and less lofty scale in the east 
 end of Ripou ; a very fine work, though greatly in- 
 ferior to its prototype. 
 
 Since writing the above note, I see that Mr. Sharpe, 
 in his work on " Decorated Windows/' has pro- 
 nounced the east window of Guisborough to be the 
 most lofty geometrical window — indeed the loftiest 
 untransomed window — in England, and that in 
 respect of proportion it is without a competitor. 
 
 Note I. Page 113. 
 
 Any one who has been trained to modern Grecian 
 architecture well knows with what abject servility 
 and absence of free discretion its orders are every day 
 copied; the revival, however, of pointed architecture 
 in no degree necessarily involves, and cannot be in 
 the least promoted by, the mere copijing of ancient 
 examples. The great object to be aimed at by 
 the student is, so perfectly to familiarize himself 
 with the character of the ancient works of art, by 
 taking every opportunity of visiting, sketching, and 
 contemplating them, and so to imbue his own mind 
 with its beauties and principles, as to be able 
 naturally to design in it, as the spontaneous and ver- 
 nacular expression of his own architectural thoughts. 
 The student of a foreign tongue will naturally at 
 first mix up merely servile transcripts with his own 
 broken attempts at composition, but when he has once 
 
140 fnta. 
 
 mastered the language he adopts it as his own, and 
 can think in it, and express his thoughts in it, with 
 fluency and ease. It is just so with the student of 
 Gothic architecture ; it is, it is true, his native lan- 
 guage, but he has been long estranged from it, and 
 perhaps taught to connect all his ideas of art with 
 an exotic style, so that in studying that which is in 
 truth his birthright, he is at first constrained to ex- 
 press his thoughts in it by a mixture of smattering and 
 servility : but w'hen his mind has once become fami- 
 liarised with its principles, he feels that it is in every 
 sense his own, and he then finds it easier to design 
 than to copy — easier to clothe his ideas in correct 
 expressions than in smattering and broken language. 
 It is singular that a day or two after writing this 
 note I met with the very same illustration, though 
 infinitely better put, in Ruskin's " Seven Lamps," 
 to which, under the head of " The Lamp of Obe- 
 dience," I would wish to refer. 
 
 Note K. Pages 17, 26, 67, 110, &c. 
 
 While I hold it to be the duty of every one in- 
 terested in church architecture to use the means 
 which may lie in his power for its revival and 
 Christianization, I cannot feci confident that we may 
 ourselves hope to see, in any great degree, the suc- 
 cess of our endeavours. The present state of re- 
 ligious ai*t but too aptly represents the state of 
 religion itself, and any approach to pm'ity or unity 
 
Jnta 141 
 
 in Christian art would be belied by a single glance 
 at the condition of Christendom ; and till this be 
 changed (unless, indeed, our theory of an essential 
 sympathy between religion and art be a mere phan- 
 tasy) our strivings can meet with but a partial and 
 local success. It has been strangely argued that 
 the " restoration of churches is the restoration of 
 Popery :" and, possibly, some may have been led by 
 their love of medieval architecture to a sickly favour- 
 ing of the errors of the days in w^hich it flourished ; 
 while others, from a dread of such effects, have 
 feared to remedy the dishonour which ages of ne- 
 glect have brought upon their churches. The two 
 errors are equally absurd ; and I am certain that 
 the first has tended seriously to check the revival of 
 Christian art, and that the second has promoted the 
 very tendency against which it was intended to 
 guard. My own conviction is, that so far from 
 really promoting the "restoration of Popery,' church 
 architecture will not be restored in its fulness and 
 vitality till the errors of Popery have ceased to exist. 
 There are moments, here and there, in the course 
 of a life devoted to the, usually, monotonous 
 routine of business, when, through the influence 
 of some external object, the mind is carried in- 
 voluntarily from its ordinary pursuits, and com- 
 pelled, in spite of itself, to fix on something more 
 elevating and less selfish. These are moments 
 which become fixed immovably upon the memory, 
 and from which it must be our own perversity alone 
 which can prevent some salutary instruction being 
 
142 
 
 derived. I believe there is no class of objects so 
 calculated to subdue the mind to such emotions as 
 the ruins of what once was great, or noble, or holy. 
 Every one must recollect many such moments, and 
 I may, perhaps, be excused in adverting to three 
 which my own memory happens to recall, as bearing 
 on the subject to which I have ventured to allude. 
 
 The first (which was in the early days of church 
 revival) was during a solitary visit to Rievaulx Abbey. 
 The effect of that touching ruin was not blunted 
 by any previous acquaintance either with its extent 
 or details, and its unadorned external walls, as seen 
 rising above the surrounding trees, though calculated 
 to excite deep interest, would hardly lead to very 
 lofty expectations. On approaching the choir, the 
 view of its interior is impeded by a vast and shape- 
 less mound, formed by the fallen materials of the 
 nave, so that the expectation is still unwrought to any 
 lofty pitch. I climbed slowly over this mound, and 
 on reaching its summit, oh ! what a scene is suddenly 
 presented! I know nothing so sadly beautiful — so 
 deeply touching. That most lovely, most perfect 
 choir, retiring in its deep vista of arcades, triforia, 
 and clerestory ; and nearer to the eye, that most 
 noble of transepts, presenting, through the absence 
 of parts of its western wall, its whole internal elevation 
 to the view, nearly every moulding and carving as 
 perfect as they were six centuries ago : but, in other 
 respects, "how fallen — how changed!" the blue 
 sky taking the place of its spangled vaulting; the 
 flowery greensward, of its tessellated floor ; and, for 
 
lintfs. 143 
 
 its frescoed decorations, the dark mantle of ivy, 
 which Nature has so lovingly thrown over, as if to 
 veil the ruin and dishonour of a temple of her 
 Maker. A ruined church will be beautiful, in de- 
 fiance of the spoiler ; Nature steps in and forbids it 
 to be otherwise : but it is a beauty which subdues 
 and depresses the spirits, and, while overcome with 
 the loveliness of the building, I shall never forget the 
 almost overwhelming feeling of wonder and sorrow 
 that it should he a ruin — that so glorious a temple 
 should lie waste — that her hedges should be broken 
 down, so that all they which pass by do pluck her ! 
 Who can repress the inquiry why our noblest 
 churches should thus have been more than decimated, 
 and the remainder despoiled ? They who did it were, 
 doubtless, for the most part, mere spoliators, — but 
 surely there was a higher cause ; and may we not 
 refer it to the same sin which brought a similar 
 visitation upon the first temple of God ? And can 
 we hope for their full restoration until all tendency to 
 such sin has been banished from the Christian church ? 
 The second such moment to which I venture to 
 advert was in a distant land — in the ancient city of 
 Prague. It was, also, during a visit to a Gothic 
 house of worship, and nearly of the same age with 
 that last mentioned, — but neither a ruin nor a 
 Christian temple : it was in a Jewish synagogue. 
 I had walked out for air on a sultry Sunday evening, 
 and having heard that there was there a synagogue 
 of the thirteenth century, it occui'red to me to seek 
 for it. Having w^andered for some time through 
 the narrow but picturesque alleys of the Jews^ 
 
144 llntts. 
 
 quarter, where one sees Hebrew sign-boards on 
 nearly every house, and Hebrews of all grades about 
 the streets and at the doors and windows, and 
 having been once misdirected to a more recent, 
 though still medieval synagogue, I at last found the 
 gloomy edifice; a building of double, high-gabled 
 roof, but externally with no architectural features 
 beyond the narrow lancet-lights in the sides, and 
 circular windows, of simple tracery, in the gables. 
 It was open, and service going on. Having never 
 seen a Jewish service, much less in such a place, and 
 in so interesting a building, I entered, not without 
 trepidation, through rather a rich Gothic doorway, 
 whose tympanum is decorated with the flowing vine, 
 the badge of the house of Aaron, and one of whose 
 jambs bears a stone alms'-box, with Hebrew inscrip- 
 tion nearly of the original date. Within, all. was 
 dismal and gloomy, though far from being devoid of 
 beauty. The vaulted ceiling is sustained by two 
 lofty octagonal pillars, of good proportion and de- 
 sign, and by alternate shafts and corbels in the 
 walls : but walls, pillars, and vaulting are all en- 
 veloped by a thick encrustation of black, probably 
 from the smoke of candles, while the narrow win- 
 dows, high up in the arches of the groining, shed, in 
 the dusk evening, but a feeble and indistinct light. 
 The centre of the building, including the two pillars, 
 is enclosed as a kind of choir by a breast -wall of 
 stone, bearing a brass screen, terminated, I think, 
 by candles, and by the often-repeated badge (as they 
 tell you) of the house of David, the double inter- 
 secting triangle so frequent in Christian churches. 
 
Ifnta 145 
 
 Within is a sort of stone altar, on whicli they 
 say that the books of the law are laid ; while 
 in the centre of the eastern end are stone steps 
 (flanked by dwarf walls and high obelisks, bearing 
 candles, &c.), leading to a curious Gothic taber- 
 nacle (now nearly hidden by later work), where these 
 ancient Hebrew rolls are deposited, and in whose rich 
 gable may be seen again the vine of the house of 
 Aaron. x\round the walls on all sides are ranges of 
 stalls for the worshippers. I did not, however, dis- 
 tinguish all these details on my first visit, my 
 thoughts being otherwise arrested. I shall never 
 forget the unearthly appearance of the place : its 
 strange arrangement, its gloom, amounting almost 
 to horror, but, above all, the uncouth appearance of 
 the worshippers, sitting in their hats, muttering over 
 their Hebrew prayers, while their bodies rocked 
 backwards and forwards as if in agony, and every 
 now and then their mutter, by general consent, 
 raising itself into an inhuman scream. I felt as if 
 among Eastern dervishes, or followers of some dismal 
 mysticism, with which the outlines of our Christian 
 architecture only the more strangely contrasted ; but 
 when the thought came over me that these were the 
 very children and people of Abraham, those to whose 
 forefathers the Law had been given from Sinai, 
 through whom came all the promises, and from 
 whose race alone we know the existence of the true 
 God, I felt so overwhelmed by the contrast pre- 
 sented by their now degraded and ruined state that 
 I could stay no longer, but made a precipitate re- 
 
 H 
 
146 Untri 
 
 treat. At the door I was stopped by an old Jew, 
 who inquired if I would like to see their ancient 
 burial-ground. This being more congenial with my 
 feelings than to emerge at once into the land of the 
 living, I was glad to take the opportunity of seeing 
 the place — and a most marvellous sight it was ! A 
 narrow slip of land between the backs of ancient 
 streets, bending and zig-zagging in and out for, 
 perhaps, a quarter of a mile among the gloomy 
 houses, till it terminates on the silent banks of the 
 Moldau. It dates back (they say) nearly a thousand 
 years, and here, till the thirteenth century, they met 
 in a subterraneous synagogue. The burials have 
 been discontinued for many years, yet the whole 
 space is piled up with grave upon grave, till mounded 
 all over like the site of a medieval stone quarry; 
 every mound and every hollow is covered and filled 
 with gravestones of antique appearance, bearing 
 Hebrew inscriptions, and each marked with the 
 badge of the tribe or family of the deceased, the 
 "stems" of David, of Aaron, of Levi, and of Israel 
 (probably meaning Judah), being the most promi- 
 nent. From among these crowded and moss-grown 
 stones protrude (like the stunted oaks of Whistman's 
 Wood fi'om between the granite bowlders of Dart- 
 moor) the dwarfed and cankered trunks of a forest of 
 ancient elder-trees, whose matted branches seem to 
 sympathize with the low estate of those whose bones 
 they overshadow, and bend down upon them so 
 closely that one has almost to creep to make one's 
 way among the tombs. It is difficult to say whether 
 
I^nta 147 
 
 in the sjniagogiie or in tlie graveyard are to be found 
 more literally "the dry bones of the house of Israel;" 
 h\it, sad as are the ruins of an ancient temple of 
 God, there can be no doubt that the ruins of His 
 ancient people present a yet more melancholy object 
 to the contemplation. 
 
 It was nearly dark when I left this most unearthly 
 of earthly i-esting-places, and returned towards the 
 dwellings of Christians, deeply impressed with the 
 thought of those through whom we inherit the pro- 
 mises having been themselves cut off through un- 
 belief. On emerging into the spacious market-place, 
 I was roused from my reverie by the cheerful voices 
 of a group of simple Sclavonians chanting their 
 hymns around the market-cross, a priest giving 
 them out verse by verse. The sound was most 
 cheering, from its contrast to those which I had 
 lately heard ; but even here was a painful di-awback, 
 for, on a closer view, their devotions seemed to be 
 directed to some relic which was exhibited in a glass 
 case, and surrounded by candles. It is not for us 
 to say that their simple-minded devotions may not 
 be accepted, but what can we say of the system 
 which, with the example before it of a nation once 
 the chosen of God, but cut off, first for idolatry, 
 and now for unbelief, deliberately teaches the one, 
 and, by adding its own inventions to the truth of 
 God, provokes to the other ? I could not but think 
 — How long shall this be ? How can we expect 
 the conversion of the natural Israel, while their spi- 
 ritual representatives are thus led astray ? And has 
 
148 llntts. 
 
 not the Christian Church made herself responsible 
 for their prolonged unbelief, by adopting, in a more 
 specious form, the very sin which they view with just 
 horror as the cause of their own earlier downfall ? 
 
 The third moment to which I have adverted was 
 a very different one. I was again in a Gothic and a 
 Christian temple, still nobler than that first alluded 
 to, and though incomplete, far from being a ruin. It 
 was the glory of all lands — the Cathedral of Cologne, 
 and at one of its (externally) most glorious moments, 
 the celebration of high mass on a Sunday, shortly 
 after the consecration and throwing open of its 
 gigantic nave. I had not, I think, before witnessed 
 high mass in an ancient cathedral, and ventured to 
 wander in, as there was no church there in the services 
 of which I had a right to join. The nave was thronged 
 with kneeling worshippers, as also were even the choii 
 and its aisles. The temple was perfumed with in- 
 cense, the smoke of which rose as in spiral columns 
 to the airy vault, while the whole re-echoed with the 
 lofty and angelic notes of the choir. I felt that 
 strange thrill which comes from the sudden striking 
 of external objects upon some accordant note within. 
 Here, for a moment, all was exalting and ennobling.* 
 All which had perished at Rievaulx was present here 
 — all which had been degrading in the sjmagogue at 
 Prague was absent. It seemed the very beauty of 
 
 • I should mention that, o^\'ing to the screens and the crowd, 
 I could u(jt see those minor and theatrical details of the ceremo- 
 nial, which so much detract from the solemnity of the Roman 
 Catholic sei'vlces. 
 
fnta 149 
 
 holiness, till the cliilling thought suddenly came over 
 me, Why have / no part in this ? why may not / 
 join in the hymn of praise ? or why, at least, cannot 
 our Church use one of those many chapels, and thus 
 have some part in this glorious worship ? I could 
 give but one answer — and that was at once suggested 
 by the groups kneeling round some wretched im- 
 ages — that this splendid worship had become clouded 
 with idolatry, and that we had been called upon to 
 "come out of her." 
 
 Here, then, amidst Christian worship in its highest 
 external beauty and exaltation, is again a ruin — the 
 worship of God in its noblest form ruined by the sin 
 against which He has expressly declared Himself " a 
 consuming fire." 
 
 My thoughts, involuntarily, entered upon the in- 
 quiry. Why cannot ice have a service equally magni- 
 ficent, yet free from this pollution ? — why should our 
 worship be (externally) so cold and plain ? — why 
 should it not embody more exalted tones of praise, 
 and be accompanied by externals more expressive of 
 the glory and majesty of Him we worship, and that 
 without one thought of bringing in created beings to 
 share what belongs exclusively to the Creator, nor of 
 disobeying His express command by worshipping 
 Him through the medium of any similitude of man's 
 device ? * I could not but feel it an object most 
 
 * See an account of the eSect produced upon a Roman tra- 
 veller by witnessing the solemnity of the Enghsh semce in Can- 
 terbury Cathedi-al, in the time of Aix-hbishop Whitgift. — Words- 
 woeth's Ecclts. Biug. vol. iii. p. GOO, third edit. 
 
 h2 
 
150 Jlnta 
 
 earnestly to be wished for, and in some degree to be 
 aimed at, yet could not resist the conclusion that 
 such is the weakness of our nature, that until the 
 Christian Church shall have been finally purged from 
 her corruptions — till Rome shall have been deprived 
 of her spiritual domination, and the very tendency to 
 her errors dispelled, its full consummation is unattain- 
 able ; that the tendencies to idolatry on the one hand, 
 or to infidelity on the other, are so rooted in the human 
 mind, that our walk must continue to be a vigilant 
 and humble steering between these alternate perils, 
 until the " stone cut out without hands" shall have 
 " filled the whole earth," and finally crushed every 
 corruption. This, however, need not preclude us 
 from doing our part towards such an end ; and as I 
 am convinced that our English Church is par eminence 
 the casket of Divine truth in our day, and the centre 
 from which we may hope that it will be difi'used, we 
 may be most thankful if, in our humble way, we 
 are permitted to symbolize this gi-eat national privi- 
 lege by taking a lead also in the revival of Christian 
 art, though we cannot, as I fear, hope to see the full 
 result of our labours till the infinitely more important 
 work is accomplished — the restoration and universal 
 difi'usion of Christianity itself. 
 
^^aGlaiTipt 
 
 'T^HE object of the foregoing pages having 
 been less the /row^o^'zo;? of church restoration 
 than the suggestion of principles by which it 
 should be regulated, I have pre-supposed the 
 existence, in the minds of any who may take 
 the trouble of reading them, of au earnest zeal 
 for the work to which they relate, and of some 
 acquaintance with the various questions w'hich 
 have arisen in reference to it ; I have not, 
 therefore, touched upon the dishonour offered 
 to God by suffering His temples to lie w^aste, 
 or to remain in a condition which w^e could 
 hardly suffer in om' stables, much less in our 
 houses — of the reproach which we bring upon 
 the Christian name by the systematic exclusion 
 of the poor from the house of God, while we 
 
152 ^.^nstsrriiit. 
 
 enclose ourselves by lofty barricades under the 
 plea of worshipping i7i privacy ; nor of the still 
 more monstrous iniquity, which not only seizes 
 upon and appropriates to the rich the property 
 of the poor, but, if not wanted for their own 
 use, actually trades in it, and sells it to the 
 highest bidder, as if it were a fair investment 
 of capital, thus literally making merchandise 
 of the souls of men ; nor have I alluded to the 
 demoralization and disaffection which is the in- 
 evitable result of thus banishing the poor from 
 the Fountain of Life, nor of the good conse- 
 quences which have invariably resulted where 
 there has existed the courage and good feehng 
 to grapple with this monstrous wrong. Let it 
 not, however, for a moment be imagined, from 
 my taking up a more advanced post, that I im- 
 agine the earlier stages to be won. No. There 
 are still those who see no reason why a church 
 should be restored ; there is still hardly a town 
 in which the upper and middle classes do not 
 think it theii' rigid to help themselves adlihitum 
 to the seats in the parish church before giving 
 a thought to the poor, and feel that they would 
 be compromising a great principle were they 
 to admit them even into their unoccupied seats ; 
 and — to the shame of our laws as well as of 
 
3[5n5t0m|it. 153 
 
 ourselves be it said — there are yet to be found, 
 in many of our most important cities and towns, 
 those who have not only thus helped themselves 
 to what belongs to their poorer neighbours, but 
 have done so openly and unblushingly, that 
 they may let or sell to their own pecuniary ad- 
 vantage the space which had been provided by 
 theii' forefathers, that all might appear on an 
 equal footing before the footstool of their 
 Maker ! It appears noio almost out of date to 
 advert to such subjects ; but, unhappily, the 
 battle has to be fought and re-fought every 
 day, and with the disadvantage which results 
 from our opponents being more acquainted 
 with what they have to expect, and more 
 desperate through hearing, one by one, of the 
 fall of their strongholds. Let us not, then, 
 while discussing among ourselves the details of 
 restoration, forget that the old battle must be 
 fought again and again till we see everywhere 
 our churches in a state of seemly reparation, 
 and the poor everywhere restored to a full 
 share with their more wealthy neighbom*s, in 
 the house of Him who is no respecter of 
 
 PERSONS. 
 
 I was led to write this postscript from the 
 following circumstance, of very recent date. 
 
154 l^nsterrijit. 
 
 In a considerable provincial town, which has a 
 noble parish church capable of accommodating 
 a good proportion of the parishioners, there are 
 seats for about one thousand of the upper and 
 middle classes, and (independent of the schools) 
 for scarcely two hundred of the poor. At a 
 vestry meeting, summoned by special requisi- 
 tion, a resolution was passed asserting the 
 great need of additional seats for the poor. At 
 a subsequent meeting a plan was produced, 
 showing how additional acconmiodation could 
 be provided for five hundred poor persons with- 
 out diminution to the number of existing seats — 
 a proposal which Avas backed by the report of a 
 careful survey made by the clergy, by which it 
 was shown that there were in the parish 1150 
 poor persons — not reckoning dissenters, infirm 
 persons, nor infants — who were unable to at- 
 tend the parish church for want of accommo- 
 dation ; by a resolution that, if carried, no part 
 of the cost would be defrayed by the rates ; 
 by letters from clergymen and others where 
 such re-arrangements had happily been effected, 
 detailing in the most striking manner the prac- 
 tical benefits which had been the result; and 
 by the voluntary surrender by several of the 
 most influential parishioners of their claims 
 
|5nstsrri|iL 155 
 
 upon the pews which had been considered as 
 theii- property. In the face of all this a coun- 
 ter-resolution was proposed by the mayor of 
 the toA\ai, seconded by the very seconder of the 
 contrary resolution first alluded to, and passed, 
 not finding fault with what had been suggested, 
 but simply asserting it to be " unnecessary and 
 ichoUy uncalled for ! " And whence was this 
 strange reversal of opinion ? Simply from its 
 having become understood that the re-arrange- 
 ment would put an end to what they facetiously 
 called their "church property," — a commodity 
 which many had made the medium of buying, 
 selling, and getting gain ! 
 
 In the face of such cases as this, I almost 
 feel as if I had been trifling, in thus spending 
 my time upon details, instead of boldly grap- 
 pling with those who still continue to set our 
 very first principles at defiance. 
 
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