The result at which we arrive after this résumé of the practice of Spanish architects is certainly that it was utterly unlike the practice of our own day. Whether it was either better or worse I can hardly venture to say; it seems to me, indeed, to be of comparatively little importance whether an architect is paid as of old by the year, or as now by a commission on the cost of the works; probably the difference in amount is seldom serious; but on the other hand it is possible that where special contracts are made the sums paid are not always the same, and so the absurd rule by which at present the best and the worst architect both get the same amount of pay for their work is avoided; one result of this rule is, that the architect of the highest reputation, in order to reap the pecuniary reward to which he is entitled, is tempted to undertake so much work that it is impossible for him to attend to half of it, and so in time, unless he have an extraordinary capacity for rapid work, his work deteriorates, and his reputation is likely to suffer.
The other old custom common in Spain—of architects contracting for the execution of their own works—does not seem to deserve much respect; yet one cannot but see that it was a natural result of the universal feeling and taste for art which seems to have obtained in the middle ages; and though it would now certainly be mere madness to ask any chance builder to execute an architectural work, there are undoubtedly many builders who are at least as well fitted to do so as are a large number of those who, without study or proper education, are nevertheless able, unchallenged by any one, to call themselves architects.
On the whole, then, it is vain to regret the passing away of a system which is foreign to the nature and ideas of an artistic profession such as that of the architects of England now; though if these old men, whose art and whose interests pulled opposite ways—seeing they were architects and contractors—did their work so honestly that it still stands unharmed by time, we may well take great shame to ourselves if the rules for our personal respectability, about which we are all so jealous, are yet in practice so often compatible, apparently, with a system of shams and makeshifts, of false construction and bad execution, of which these old architect-builders were almost wholly guiltless.
The questions between ourselves and them, when simply stated, are these—Whose work is best in itself, and whose work will last the longest? If these questions cannot be answered in our favour, then it is absurd to protest vigorously against the practice which we see pursued by such men as Juan Campero, Martin Llobet, Juan de Ruesga, Guillermo Sagrera, or Pedro de Cumba, and we shall do well to admit, whenever necessary, that he is the best architect who designs the best building, whatever his education; though it is undoubtedly true that he is most likely to be the best architect who is the best taught, the most refined, and the most regularly educated in his art.
It is often, and generally thoughtlessly, assumed, that most of the churches of the middle ages were designed by monks or clerical architects. So far as Spain is concerned, the result at which we arrive is quite hostile to this assumption, for in all the names of architects that I have noticed there are but one or two who were clerics. The abbat who in the eighth or ninth century rebuilt Leon cathedral is one; Frater Bernardus of Tarragona, in A.D. 1256, another; and the monk of El Parral, who restored the Roman aqueduct at Segovia, is the third; and the occurrence of these three exceptions to the otherwise general rule, proves clearly, I think, that in Spain the distinct position of the architect was understood and accepted a good deal earlier than it was, perhaps, in England. In our own country it is indeed commonly asserted that the bishops and abbats were themselves the architects of the great churches built under their rule. Gundulph, Flambard, Walsingham, and Wykeham, have all been so described, but I suspect upon insufficient evidence; and those who have devoted the most study and time to the subject seem to be the least disposed to allow the truth of the claim made for them. The contrary evidence which I am able to adduce from Spain certainly serves to confirm these doubts. I was myself strongly disposed once to regard the attempt to deprive us of our great clerical architects as a little sacrilegious; but I am bound to say that I have now changed my mind, and believe that the attempt was only too well warranted by the facts. In short, the common belief in a race of clerical architects and in ubiquitous bodies of freemasons, seems to me to be altogether erroneous. The more careful the inquiry is that we make into the customs of the architects of the middle ages, the more clear does it appear that neither of these classes had any general existence; and in Spain, so far as I have examined, I have met with not a single trace of either. I am glad that it is so; for in these days of doubt and perplexity as to what is true in art, it is at least a comfort to find that one may go on heartily with one’s work, with the honest conviction that the position one occupies may be, if one chooses to make it so, as nearly as possible the same as that occupied by the artists of the middle ages. So that, as it was open to them—often with small means and in spite of many difficulties—to achieve very great works of lasting architectural merit, the time may come when, if we do our work with equal zeal, equal artistic feeling, and equal honesty, our own names will be added to the list, which already includes theirs, of artists who have earned the respect and affection of all those whose everyday life is blessed with the sight of the true and beautiful works which in age after age they have left behind them as enduring monuments of their artistic skill.
APPENDIX.
(A.)
CATALOGUE OF DATED EXAMPLES OF SPANISH BUILDINGS, FROM THE TENTH TO THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY INCLUSIVE.