In sculpture I hold that we ought to be able to follow what is good and noble in the form of that art which belonged to the finest period of our architecture, and yet to unite it with the most perfect art which can be produced. Greek art unites perfectly with Gothic, but both demand the spirit and soul of the true artist, aided by the use of what he sees in actual life. I confess, however, that so little opportunity is allowed us for cultivating this art in connection with architecture, and so small the funds at our disposal, that we have fallen into the sin of putting our sculpture into the hands of men of a very inferior class—extemporised, in fact, from amongst our ordinary carvers; and the only wonder to me is, not that they do so badly, but so well as they do. This is a noble subject on which to follow out a new and higher aim, and the students of the Royal Academy might especially devote themselves to its realisation. I fear that we older architects shall not succeed, but we may claim aid of you who have better opportunities; and I would, as a help, suggest a course of study from the finest and purest Greek side by side with the best Gothic sculpture, endeavouring to unite their qualities, and to add to them what is to be gathered from the study of nature—not only the usual study of the human figure, but rather the importing into sculpture touches of nature and fact as they come before us.
To this also we need to add the study of animal sculpture, a point in which such artists as we are able to employ are usually, though not always, equally behind-hand.
Much the same may be said of figure painting when used in connection with architecture. We ought only to employ those who are really artists, but these should train themselves especially for the subject; and if the architect could fit himself for the work, so much the better, if he really does it well; though this can never become again the general practice.
I have said a little in my last lecture on the study of the old examples and fragments of painted glass which you fall in with; I would wish more formally and urgently to press this upon you.
The foreign fever, from which we are but now recovering, has told most severely upon this class of art; for not only has English stained glass been neglected as our practical guide—not only has the study of it been almost wholly abandoned—but its very conservation has been little cared for; and not only in the churches which contain beautiful fragments have they been contemptuously neglected as guides to the characters of new windows introduced, but they have been constantly and systematically expelled from the windows in which they exist, and for which expressly they were designed, to make way for new glass, designed without any reference to their character. We have long been in the habit of abusing, and justly, the village glaziers who turn out the beautiful fragments of ancient glass which occupy the heads of lights and the openings of tracery, to make way for uniform quarry glazing; but our glass painters are daily doing the same thing without remorse, and are the more inexcusable inasmuch as they cannot plead ignorance, and if they chose could make the design of their new windows a restoration of the old, and retain the old fragments in their proper places. It usually happens, however, that they never see the windows for which they prepare the glass, and are culpably innocent of all knowledge of whether they or others in the church retain remnants of the works of those who are, or ought to be, their masters.[91]
I have, in more than one instance, known that some of our best glass painters, when called on to introduce windows into our finest minsters, have completed their work without any knowledge of the fact that there remained exquisite remnants of the ancient and coeval glass belonging to windows corresponding with those they were supplying, and that of the finest periods of the art; and have consequently failed to assimilate their work to what was intended by the original builders.
The clergy, too, are often greatly to blame in this. Their eagerness for new glass often expels from their minds all care for the old. I have heard of a good-natured[92] archdeacon in one of the southern counties, who is ready to give to any friend specimens of the ancient glass he has supplanted by new in his “restored” church.
All this makes it incumbent on you to note and carefully to draw every fragment of stained glass which you meet with where it is exposed to be lost or neglected; and I would further urge on you the systematic and minute study of the better known examples, so that your knowledge of glass painting, as of architecture, may be based upon English examples. Our glass painters are open to the double charge of adhering to old precedent too religiously in its weakest point, and too lightly in its strongest; for though their works are far from being generally very close followings of the actual decorative designs of old glass, and particularly of English glass, they affect to follow the grotesque drawing of the old glass painters, and often greatly exaggerate it. I would rather reverse this, for the decorative portions of old glass are so perfect that it is impossible to surpass their beauty, while the figure drawing, though often full of deep and noble sentiment, is usually quaint and even grotesque.[93]
In respect, however, of the figure drawing, I am very far indeed from advising the repudiation in toto of the ancient manner. It is only the correction of the drawing that I advocate. I would adhere rigidly to the principle of representing the figures mainly (though not wholly) by means of sharp hard outline. We know from the Greek Vases (if, indeed, any proof were wanting where the fact is so obvious) that an outline may be as absolutely artistic as a finished painting. I would further adhere to the general sentiment and artistic style of the old glass, but I would urge that the sentiment and style should be followed out with as perfect drawing (were it possible) as an old Greek artist would have brought to bear upon it. As an imaginary illustration of what I mean, I would endeavour to realise what the result would be if pencil outline copies of the best thirteenth century figure subjects were placed in the hands of such a man as Flaxman, or any really high-class artist, capable of appreciating their sentiment and well versed in Greek art of the noblest period, for the purpose of simply correcting their drawing without changing their sentiment and motive. It is just such drawing as one may suppose to result from such a process that I would wish to see in our modern church windows. In secular works I would not oppose some departure from the rigidity of such a style, nor a little further addition of shading and high finish, though never to the concealment of the outline; and in both I would avoid all that is grotesque or over-quaint (excepting in subjects or figures which demand it, and where it is of the essence of the motive), as these qualities introduced into serious subjects are, to say the least, contrary to the general spirit of the age, and are, therefore, false and unreal.
In painted decorations on walls, etc., much greater liberty may be allowed. We have not here the material limiting the class of art made use of, and the treatment may therefore suit itself freely to the conditions suggested—first, by the purpose of the building; secondly, by its scale of decorative character and the limits of cost; and thirdly, by the more or less functional nature of the surface occupied. We may, in fact, vary from outline pure and simple to perfectly finished paintings, and from a severe and solemn treatment to any reasonable degree of lightness and freedom, according to the conditions: ever remembering that the more functional the surface, the less must be the apparent relief. A painting in a panel may have any amount of shadow and distance, while that occupying a wall, a pier, or a vault must be kept sufficiently flat as to avoid disturbing the functional character of the object which is the ground of the painting.
A great deal has been said about development in architecture, and a good deal of harm has resulted from it: not that development is to be objected to—far from it; but because true and genuine development will never be the result of direct and deliberate effort.
The true developments we have to look for are such as will be continually forced upon us by the necessities of new materials, new modes of construction, new requirements, and the altered habits and feelings of the age in which we are living; by the different modes of decoration which will from time to time offer themselves to our notice, and the importing into English architecture arts which had previously been peculiar to that of other countries and perhaps to wholly different styles. The conditions also prescribed by works in different climates—as in India, in North America, or in Australia—demand special development.
The frank and natural meeting of these new demands and new facilities will of itself produce developments enough to distinguish the works of our revival from those of old times, without our affecting to alter those elements of our style which are not naturally affected by any such conditions. I have said so much, however, on these subjects elsewhere, that I will not venture to crowd their multitudinous details into this lecture: only suggesting, in passing, that domestic architecture by its absolute demands must of necessity suggest very many new developments; that another wide field for novelty of treatment is offered by the wrought iron construction and fire-proof construction of our day; and that there still remains to us the solution of the noble problem of the introduction and naturalisation of the dome as a feature of our revived style.
I will now say a very few words on another branch of the practice of a Gothic architect: that which relates to the repairs and restoration of ancient buildings.
What I have said on the study of ancient examples as the one and only source of knowledge of architecture, of necessity carries with it the assertion of the value of those examples, whether of a higher or of a humbler class, and the condemnation of those who would deprive us of these monuments of ancient art or tamper with their genuineness or integrity. Yet, strange to say, a large number of the architects who take in hand the so-called restoration of our ancient buildings seem utterly devoid of all feeling for their value as authentic works of olden time. I know no subject connected with architecture more mournful and distressing than the way in which our old churches are but too generally dealt with. Many of our large towns contain one or more architects who systematically prey upon the surrounding churches, more or less ruining everything they touch, and that without remorse, and combating with the utmost energy every remonstrance against their destructive habits. Nor are they alone to blame. The clergy too often love to have it so. If they can get their churches made smart, they often seem to care little about the destruction of their antiquities; and thus, between them and their architects, whole counties are becoming denuded of a great part of the points of interest in their churches. Nay, the man who commits the greatest devastations often earns the greatest amount of commendation; and one who venerates an old building and seeks to preserve its antiquities has to fight for every inch of ground against the opposition of the parties interested in the work. These destructive tendencies are not limited to the minor features of churches, but often involve the whole buildings, or large parts of them, in destruction, and that without a shadow of necessity. One of these destroyers of churches is called in, and at once condemns all he does not fancy or which can be shown to be out of repair; the clergyman appeals to the neighbourhood for funds to meet the sad state of things portrayed by his architect; the whole or part of it is destroyed, and no regard to its former design is paid in its reconstruction. This is going on all over the country, with the applause of local magnates and the laudations of the local papers: the architect and his patrons glory in their success, while the country is robbed, one by one, of its invaluable and irreplaceable antiquities.[94]
Even the societies formed for the study of our antiquities fail to lift up their voices sufficiently against this fearful Vandalism, while many who should be the guardians of our ancient churches use specious arguments in confutation of the protests of those who dare to denounce the atrocities which are perpetrated.
I have expressed myself pretty fully on the subject elsewhere, and have spoken also about the spirit in which we should undertake such additions to old churches as absolute necessity demands; and I am happy to say that the Institute of British Architects have issued most judicious and strongly-worded codes of suggestions as to the treatment of old buildings, so that I trust the public will at some time be awakened to the monstrous course which is being too generally followed. I go over the ground on this occasion because I suppose myself to be addressing many of those to whose keeping our churches and other old buildings will be at a future time committed. I desire to warn you at the outset against following the steps of those whose misdeeds I have been proclaiming; and I close these lectures with an earnest entreaty that you will enter upon practice with a solemn vow to yourselves to be the determined and consistent protectors and conservators of those precious relics of former days, now consecrated by antiquity, and from which alone you learn the art which I am urging you to study.
END OF VOL. I.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] I fancy Mr. Freeman, who has perhaps more right than any living author to a dogmatic opinion on this question, would think that I have gone too far in this statement; and that the course of architecture was less broken at this period than I imagined when writing the above. In Italy, I have since come to the opinion, the history of architecture was fairly continuous, in spite of Gothic invasions, etc. Although the architecture at Pavia, etc., called by Mr. T. Hope “Lombardic,” has been proved to be of dates far later than he supposed when giving it that name, I feel convinced that truly Lombard architecture does exist, and that of a type naturally succeeding and carrying on the style of the earlier Basilicæ. At Lucca, for instance, though little attention has been paid by writers on its churches, to anything earlier than the Pisan work of the twelfth century, a careful examination will show that many of them have a nucleus (and some far more) of a much earlier date, reaching back to the time of the Lombard kings (G. G. S. 1878).
[2] See note on this subject in the previous lecture. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[3] Ibid.
[4] Mr. Freeman, in vol. v. of his “Norman Conquest,” has treated admirably of the architecture of this period, under the name of “Primitive Romanesque.” (G. G. S. 1878.)
[5] I do not know whether the western bays of the Church of S. Pierre, adjoining the Abbey Church at Jumiéges (which bays seem to have belonged to the original chapter-house), belong to the older building destroyed by the Normans, or to that rebuilt in 930 by Guillaume Longue-Epeé. They are in style not Norman, but refined “Primitive Romanesque.” (G. G. S. 1878.)
[6] There is an exception to this in the vaulting of curved spaces, such as the circular aisle round an apse in which the ribs assume a waved plan. (G. G. S.)
[7] See views of St. Faith’s Chapel, vol. ii. Lecture XIII.
[10] The length to which the Lecture has extended itself has rendered it necessary for the present to pass over the German transition with very slight notice. (G. G. S.)
[11] I ought to couple with the vaulting all wide-spanned arches; but in a vaulted building they naturally go together. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[12] There is some uncertainty as to the building to which these fragments belonged. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[13] A better acquaintance with southern buildings does not wholly remove this difficulty. The Greek and Roman types seem to be a good deal mixed in them. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[14] From a careful examination of the old capitals removed from the church of St. Frond during the “Restoration,” I observe that they are scarcely so distinct in their Byzantine character as those later specimens which I have been speaking of. This makes me suspect that throughout the twelfth century actually Byzantine carvers were employed in France. Without this I cannot account for the continuance of the Byzantine feeling in all its purity for so long a time. (G. G. S.)
[15] We find the Byzantine feeling every here and there strongly developed in our own transitional examples. I will mention as an instance the north-west portal of Lincoln Cathedral, where it is beautifully exhibited. (Fig. 28). (G. G. S.)
[17] The same construction appears to have also existed both at Tewkesbury and at Pershore. (G. G. S.)
[19] 1858.
[20] It is curious to observe precisely the same art as in the eastern part of Nôtre Dame exhibited in the tiny, but exquisite choir, close by, of St. Julien le Pauvre.[21] Another small but highly valuable example is the beautiful ruined church of St. Evremont at Creil. An example of this style, which I have not seen much noticed in books, is the cathedral at Geneva. I am unacquainted with its history, but should suppose that a considerable interval occurred between its lower and upper stages, the latter being of perfected Early Pointed, while the former is as admirable a transitional work as I have anywhere met with. It partakes in some parts of that classic tendency which is displayed in the earlier parts of the cathedral at Lyons.
To follow out the subject through the South of France would not only be useless in illustrating the English transition, but would, compressed into the smallest space, be a subject for an entire lecture. I cannot, however, abstain from just alluding to the noble manner in which the style adapts itself to Domed architecture at Angoulême and throughout its neighbourhood, and to the Quasi-domed architecture at Le Puy. The latter has been illustrated in an excellent paper by Mr. Street, read before the Institute of British Architects. The southern form of the transition must have been nobly exemplified by the church of St. Gilles near Nismes, before that charming church became ruined in the religious wars of the sixteenth century. The entire plan of the church still remains intelligible, as does most of the superstructure; and it is difficult to imagine anything more noble. The three western portals are better known, and are truly magnificent. Parallel to them are the western portal and the cloister of St. Trophimus[22] at Arles. The church at St. Gilles retains the date of its commencement, 1116, which, however, seems too early for its architecture. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[23] The carving of the more advanced style here described belongs probably to the beginning of the thirteenth century. M. Viollet le Duc seems to think that the western façade was not begun till about 1218; but I think it must have been earlier, because the corbels and upper jamb-stones of the south-western portal, unlike the rest, are of exquisite Byzantine workmanship. (G. G. S. 1878).
[24] A more careful examination shows that far the larger part of Darlington is of later date, using up, as would appear, details prepared by Pudsey, who died before the church had made any great progress. (G. G. S.)
[25] There is work of the Canterbury type in the double chapel to the keep of Dover Castle, and interpolated work by the same hand in the church hard by, in which Saxon work is re-used as material for transitional work. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[26] The dates are given in Professor Willis’s excellent paper on the Abbey. They are from 1186 onwards. The older Abbey was burnt down in 1186. The Chapel now known as that of St. Joseph, but which was really the Lady Chapel, was first rebuilt, and the church followed immediately afterwards. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[27] The clerestory and triforium of St. Germain des Pres have undergone some alterations from the original forms. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[28] This work at Chichester was executed at the close of the century, after the fire of 1186; but Professor Willis has shown that some early Pointed work of a very marked character, which exists in the western part of the Lady Chapel, must have been erected previously to that event.
[29] This unfoliated capital I have since noticed in the Church at Tulle in Limousin, where simplicity was suggested by the material—granite. (G. G. S.)
[30] I read a paper on the English Transition, especially viewed in reference to its English and French elements, before the Archæological Institution at Canterbury in 1875. See their Journal. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[33] It is fair to say that Professor Willis doubted the date given to this Galilee. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[34] In the church of St. Francis at Assisi, a German and an Italian architect worked together. The former imported into the work a German version of the French Pointed style, while the latter retained the semi-classic Romanesque of his own country—the two indefinitely commingled. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[35] The last sentence, though expressing a general truth, must not be taken too literally; for, though it is the great principle of Gothic architecture to decorate construction, this may be effected simply or richly, and with or without sculpture or carving, according to the requirements of the case. (G. G. S.)
[36] I remember conducting for the first time M. Reichensperger through Westminster Abbey, being surprised at his objecting to some details as “Bysantinisch.” This arose from his having mentally adopted later styles as his models, in which no trace of Romanesque origin remains. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[37] See Lecture VII. page 248.
[38] See capital from S. Eusèbe, Auxerre, Lecture III., page 101; also capitals from Montmartre, Lecture VIII., page 319.
[39] See capitals from Nôtre Dame, Saint Chapelle, etc., Lecture III. pages 102 and 103.
[40] I have since discovered that the great four and five light windows of the chapter-house at Westminster were finished in 1253. These are of the fullest development, and have cusped heads to their lights. (G. G. S.)
For illustration, see Interior of Chapter-House, Lecture XIV. Vol. ii.
[43] I remember, in the report of one of the parish meetings, Mr. Barclay having proposed the restoration of the glorious old nave, an intelligent parishioner exclaiming, “What! keep them great elephants’ foots?” (G. G. S. 1878.)
[44] I am glad to learn that the drawings are preserved, and that they will, D.V., be published by Mr. Dollman. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[45] Or rather, in some respects, of Beauvais. The two were, no doubt, jointly referred to by the Cologne architect. (G. G. S.)
[46] Since writing this I have had the privilege of restoring it, and in these days of ante-restoration I am glad that so clear a record had been kept of its previous condition. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[49] Much discussion has taken place as to who this Pietro—“Petrus Romanus Civis”—was. Virtue, as quoted by Walpole, says it was Pietro Cavallini, but he was only a child when this work was done. The ciforium in the Church of St. Paul without the Walls bears this inscription; †HOC OPUS FECIT ARNOLFUS CUM SUO SOCIO PETRO!! Monsegnor Xavier Barbier de Montault, who wrote a chapter for Mr. Parker’s work on Rome, says that this was Pietro Cavallini. If so, he was probably the father of the more celebrated artist. The date of the work last named is 1285, being sixteen years later than that at Westminster.
[50] For east and west windows, see “Digression concerning Windows,” inserted between Lectures VII. and VIII.
[52] More recently, on opening out other walled-up arches, etc., the greater part of this substructure has been found. The fragments—about 2000 in number—have been fitted together and built up in their old place. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[53] Since this was written, the church has gained additional interest through the opening out of the wall paintings, which probably formed a sort of reredos over each of the small altars which stood against the Norman piers in the nave. (G. G. S.)
[54] This is really somewhat later. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[55] This notion has since been entirely disproved, and the architect proved to have been a member of an English family. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[58] For a bay of this chapter-house, see “Digression concerning Windows,” inserted between Lectures VII. and VIII.Fig. 170.
[59] See Lecture XV., vol. ii.
[60] For illustration, see Lecture IV. p. 164.
[61] The practical and universally acknowledged success of the Assize Courts at Manchester, as compared with those at Liverpool, speaks volumes as to the rationale of our style. (G. G. S.)
[62] It is amusing to observe the triumphant tone with which modern writers delight to parade the bits of untruthfulness which they chance to find in ancient Classic and other structures. I wonder whether the old architects would enjoy the compliment if they could see works of our day. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[65] The manner in which our glass painters turn out these fragments—more precious than gold—to make way for their (often vile) memorial windows is only paralleled by the ruthlessness with which they tear away the iron-work which once sustained the painted glass. (G. G. S. 1878).
[66] There seems to be a perfect crusade going on against these relics which give such a charm to our villages, though nothing shows more painfully the contrast between the tastefulness of former times and the tastelessness of the present than a comparison between these despised remains and the structures by which they are constantly being replaced. (G. G. S.)
[67] Or how were stone gables made to fit themselves to a thatched roof? (G. G. S. 1878).
[68] A practice now happily long discontinued. (G. G. S. 1878).
[69] See Lecture III., pp. 107, 108.
[71] To follow up these studies well, it will be desirable to have an introduction to the authorities, which may exempt you from a galling system of espionage for many years prevalent in this cathedral. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[73] See Lecture XII., vol. ii.
[74] See Lecture XIV., vol. ii.
[76] See Lecture V., p. 320, Fig. 115; also “Digression concerning Windows” inserted between Lectures VII. and VIII.
[77] It is melancholy to think how our privileges are neglected! The Architectural Museum itself is a perfect mine of the finest objects of study; yet how insufficient are the uses made of it. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[78] Since I wrote this—eleven years ago—the tide has turned. We are too apt to follow rages and mere fashions. We were, when I wrote, becoming too French; we have since got to think of French architecture with a self-righteous horror. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[79] For illustrations, see Lecture III., p. 82, Figs. 20, 21.
[80] Many original capitals from the Sainte Chapelle are lying in the open air in the gardens of the Hôtel Cluny. The most precious morsels which can be conceived! (G. G. S. 1878.)
[81] When I wrote this, they were double-locked in the old schatzzimmer, but they are now displayed in the triforium gallery. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[82] I mean the Romanesque architecture of Lombardy: not that of the Lombard Kings, which was probably a mere version of the Basilican. See note on this subject to Lecture I. (G. G. S. 1878).
[83] The small secular Basilica, called the “Basilica Jovis” built, I think, by Domitian on the Palatine Hill, proves more clearly than any other building I know how directly our churches are derived from the old Halls of Justice. The recent excavations have shown both the marble cancelli which parted off the apse, and the altar within it for the administrative oath. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[84] Surely we may claim it now! (G. G. S. 1878.)
[86] For illustration, see “Digression concerning Windows,” inserted between Lectures VII. and VIII.
[87] So rapidly do fashions change that, though when I wrote the above I expected to be found fault with for speaking so well of late styles, I am now far behind the age! Sixteen years earlier I had done the same at the risk, nay, with the certainty, of being pronounced a heretic by some of the very persons who now think the latest Mediæval art the best, and that far later than Mediæval better still. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[88] Those who most despised the less foreign and the less early men, are, in many cases, those who have subsequently rejected all that was foreign, and all that was early; if not yet, all that is Mediæval. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[89] I fear my love of the early styles has led me to be unfaithful to my theory. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[90] The French variety of our style has not only been vulgarised by exaggeration, but still more by ignorance and incapacity. The hideousness of the capitals constantly palmed off as French would surpass belief if we were not used to it! (G. G. S. 1878.)
[91] I must mention, as noble exceptions to this, the restoration, by Mr. Hardman, of the east window of Okeover Church, Derbyshire; and of two windows in the north aisle of Gloucester Cathedral, which are works deserving the highest praise. (G. G. S.)
[92] I fear this term only applies to him in respect of his liberality in this particular. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[93] I cannot but feel that our glass painters fail grievously in real progress. Even those who are really acquainted with their art too frequently so scamper over it as to render their figures and subjects mere caricatures. The majority really know nothing about their art, and these are the favourites with the public! Another section, who really understand what art is, and are able to practise it, proudly set at naught its harmony with the architecture in which it is set. (G. G. S. 1878.)
[94] If the local and other architects who feel themselves to be open to this charge would reconsider their ways, and determine henceforth to devote themselves to the conservation of all the antiquities which pass through their hands, they would earn and receive the hearty support of all who love and value our ancient buildings, as well as securing the gratitude of future generations. (G. G. S.)