The next important point is the arrangement of the chancels, that they may be perfectly adapted for the easy access and egress of large bodies of communicants which have greatly increased since the middle ages. The chancels of all large town churches should be continued either like apsidal choirs, or taken out of the body of the church with the aisles continuing eastward on either side, and terminating in chapels, thus permitting the free egress of those who have communicated without returning through the holy doors. This arrangement is not of any importance in country parishes where the number of communicants is necessarily limited, and where the elongated chancels may be retained, but in great towns it is almost indispensable. And this leads us to another matter of considerable importance. Almost all the pointed churches that have been erected in towns, have been taken from examples in the country villages, and although low churches built of rubble walls with broach spires look most beautiful and appropriate amid cottages, elm trees, and rural scenery, they appear quite out of place when transplanted among the lofty mansions and scenery of a great city. A church has recently been erected in London the design of which per se is exceedingly pleasing, but instead of the sky line of the gable roofs we have the attic story and Roman cement balustrades and hideous chimney-pots of an adjoining terrace rising above them.
In all ancient cities where the houses were lofty, the churches were the same, as at Antwerp, Bruges, Ghent, Lubeck, Ratisbonne, Nuremberg. There are houses in the old towns whose gables are much higher than are our first-rate houses, but the churches rise very far above them, so that when seen from a considerable distance, the temples of God appear over all surrounding objects. Moreover, internal grandeur can only be produced by great height; it is a most important feature, and one which cannot be exaggerated, therefore I hope and trust that in future erections, no false economy, will interfere with this important and symbolic principle. Another point to be considered in the erection of town churches is the approach or entrance, which, if it be possible, should be contrived through a cloister or porch, answering to the ancient atrium. This would not only prevent noise and break currents of air, but it would serve to prepare the mind of the worshipper before entering the church itself, as a most devotional effect might be imparted to the cloister by sculptures and paintings, of which there are examples in several churches of Cologne and other cities in Germany. I believe these would be found most advantageous, not only for these religious reasons, but as completely shutting off the ingress of external cold air,[24] and the church itself might be free from drafts and yet properly ventilated from above. And it is a great point for the revival of true church architecture, that it should be practically convenient both for clergy and people, and that it is quite possible to preserve an even temperature in the largest buildings is proved at S. Peter's, Rome, and which really constitutes its greatest—if not its only merit.
It is also most essential to erect spacious sanctuaries, and cloisters for the vesting of the singing clerks, who should not enter the priests' sacristy, and they should be so contrived as not to be converted to rooms of passage, or where women could find any excuse for penetrating. The sacristies of the old Italian churches are magnificent, both in dimensions and decorations. They are like second churches; and, indeed, they should be considered and treated with nearly equal respect on account of the sacred vessels and ornaments that are reserved within their ambries. But to erect these noble adjuncts to churches some considerable funds must be granted, and architects must not be expected, as has fallen to my lot, to build a sacristy and fittings for £40, and find some candlesticks into the bargain.
Our churches should now combine all the beauty and symbolism of antiquity with every convenience that modern discovery has suggested, or altered ecclesiastical discipline requires. The revival would then become a living monument and a true expression of the restoration of religion in the land. But I grieve to say, from what I see of the majority of pointed churches now erecting, that they are calculated to inflict greater injury on the cause than even the Italian abortions, which can only excite disgust, and drive men to the opposite opinion, and therefore practically of some service. It is now time that the movement assumed a regular principle; in the commencement everything was strange and ill understood; step by step we had to fathom, and works which now appear easy of execution were then deemed almost impracticable. A great many errors and failures were the natural consequence, and no man has been guilty of greater mistakes than myself; some of them were caused by want of experience in this new and difficult career, others through total inadequacy of funds. However, I feel certain that, but a few years ago, even unlimited funds could not have produced a truly fine work; and now I believe that a very majestic building could be accomplished at a comparatively moderate outlay. But I am sorry to say that, as yet, I see no man who has profited by my original errors. The new churches are more elaborate and full of decoration, but as convenient buildings are rather a decline from those originally produced, and much more costly and very unsuitable for their intentions. There is no distinction between churches intended for religious orders and those for parochial purposes, though their use is widely different. Formerly every order built in accordance with its own rules, and it is easy, on the mere inspection of these buildings, to ascertain their origin. The Dominicans were great preachers, and consequently their churches are like immense naves, with lateral chapels between the buttresses; the high altar placed against a reredos, behind which was the choir for the religious. Christian architecture lends itself perfectly to all these varieties: a Carthusian, a Dominican, or a Franciscan church may be and were quite in accordance with true ecclesiastical architecture, and yet most differently disposed, to suit the various religious rules. Unless Pointed architecture is carried out on these adaptive rules, which are the old ones, it is not a living monument. It is quite certain that our present race of architects, as a body, do not yet understand the language: they transcribe words, and even sentences, accurately, but it is a dead imitation of something already done, and not a living creation; and, consequently, great sums are thrown away in fine and praiseworthy and well-intentioned attempts, but which will be shortly deplored by all concerned. I grieve to see this, as, unless it is remedied, it may be the means of giving the Pagans a temporary triumph. I say temporary, because their eventual destruction is as certain as that of the power of the devil himself, but, like him, they have done and may do a deal of mischief till they are finally bound.
I therefore most earnestly conjure all those men who profess to revive true architecture to look to the wants and circumstances of the time, not to sacrifice principles, but to prove that the real principles can combine with any legitimate requirement of religion; let the bishops and clergy practically perceive that Christian architecture fulfils perfectly all their wants: let there be light, space, ventilation, good access, with the absence of drafts, which destroy devotion and excite prejudice against Pointed doorways. Avoid useless and over-busy detail, and rely on good proportions and solemnity of effect. Above all, we must remember that everything old is not an object of imitation—everything new is not to be rejected. If we work on these golden principles, the revival would be a living monument, as it was in days of old; and that God may grant us means to carry it out, that he will enlighten the hearts of the obdurate, and unite the faithful in one great bond of exertion for the revival of the long-lost glory of his church, sanctuary, and altar, is the earnest prayer of the writer of this book.
[21] In the old histories of Amiens, the bas-relief representing the prophecy of Micheas, cap. iv., v. 3, "Et concidant gladios suos in vomeres, et hastas in ligones," was commonly described as representing the ancient manufacture of arms, for which that city was celebrated, but to which it has not the slightest reference. At Rouen, the history of Joseph and his brethren, with their sacks, and the cup, with the hanging of the chief butler, was considered as that of a cheating corn-factor, by the seizure of whose property the portal was erected; but without the smallest grounds of probability, as shown by the learned Dom Pomeraye.
[22] It is worthy of remark that the idea of representing S. Joseph holding our Lord in his arms is comparatively modern, and in utter opposition to the ancient school of Christian art, who always ascribed a secondary position to this saint, and never made any representation of him that would convey the least idea of his entertaining any paternal affection for our Blessed Lord. I have attentively studied this subject, and never yet found any ancient representation that does not fully bear out my assertion. This is one of the many instances where modern art, disregarding ancient traditions, seeking the pretty and the pleasing, in lieu of the mysterious and sublime, has imparted the externals of importance to S. Joseph that the church has never recognized. Our Divine Lord as an infant was always represented in the arms of the Blessed Virgin, and no other, in all ancient mosaic painting and sculpture, and I believe that these modern images of S. Joseph, which have such astonishing vogue among devout people, if brought before an episcopal council, would be condemned as tending towards erroneous opinions.
[23] The usual description of articles made by nuns in their recreation were produced by scissors and paste, little gilt paper nick-nacks, fit only to please children of a very tender age, and, indeed, bad for them, as tending to corrupt their early notions. Every convent had a glass-case, in which their miserable productions were reserved, and shown and sold to visitors. I have heard of a very devout man, a member of the English church, who went to see a convent in the centre of England, imbued with the most reverent idea of conventual architecture; cloisters, chapter-houses, oratories, dim oriels, and all the associations of old religious buildings. What, therefore, was his astonishment, at being driven up to what he conceived, from its external appearance, was a new parochial union; nor was it lessened on his being shown into a modern-looking, ill-furnished parlour, containing one of these glass-cases full of trumpery, and invited to become a purchaser; when, in his confusion, he found himself the fortunate possessor, minus seven shillings, of a paper donkey and two paniers of sugar-plums, and was glad to make a speedy retreat, with this singular reminiscence of the modern daughters of S. Benedict. It is, however, a great satisfaction to know that a better spirit is arising in several cloistered communities, who now reproduce the sacred vestments in the integrity of form; and we may hope and trust that the time is not far distant when all the external objects of these convents will harmonize with the venerable habit they wear, and with that internal spirit of piety which they have so wonderfully maintained amid degenerate taste.
[24] The clumsy manner in which the old church-doors were fitted, and their opening direct into the body of the building, combined with the length of Protestant sermons, have been the primary cause of pews. In many churches they were almost necessary to protect the legs and head from cutting drafts; and if these pews are now removed, and replaced by open seats, without remedying the doors and currents of cold air, the old partitions will return. The first thing is to remove the cause—the effect will follow. Long sermons, also, have contributed much to pew-making. A person assisting at an office where there is frequent change of posture does not attach much importance to his seat, but when he is fixed for a whole hour's sitting, the case is different; and hence the comfortable contrivances in the modern English churches where the sermon is everything, and the divine offices and liturgy but little considered. Pews are essentially Protestant, but I have seen incipient erections of the sort even in Catholic churches.
Finis.