Lectures on the rise and development of medieval architecture; vol. 1

by Sir George Gilbert Scott

This general conclusion having been tacitly consented to, people naturally came to think that we ought to adhere to it as closely as might be, and for this reason: that the principle of a revival was only defensible in an extreme case, and nothing could defend it from the charge of frivolity if the revivers went on the principle of now reviving one style and now another; but that if all by general consent should determine on reviving one and the same style, as the groundwork for the future development of a style of our own, the revival would become invested with reality, reason, and vigour. The choice, then, of one style, and the adherence to it as a groundwork, seems to me to have been right, and I am very much disposed to believe that the choice come to, though its enforcement at that time bordered on fanaticism, was right also; at least in the main.

This promising theory, not to mention occasional tokens of rebellion at the somewhat tyrannical way in which it was attempted to be pressed, received a rude shock some ten years back through the competition for the erection of the cathedral at Lille. We had been in the habit in this country of speaking rather pityingly of the error of the French revivalists in selecting an earlier type for their groundwork than we had adopted; but the programme of this great European competition prescribed this early style, and our talented countrymen who won the palm leaped over the traces to such an extent, as absolutely to luxuriate in the till now forbidden art, even beyond what was demanded by the conditions, and beat the French out of the field in the intensity of their following out of the Early French style.

This was received with unlooked-for indulgence by those whose laws it set at nought; but so marked a condonation seemed to have been viewed as an act of emancipation, for, from that time forward, every one began to do that which was right in his own eyes.

There was at once a violent revulsion of feeling in favour of the earliest periods; and at the same time the long pent-up feelings of favour to the continental styles, excited by Mr. Ruskin and by foreign travel, were given their full swing, and for a time nothing could be early enough—nothing foreign enough—to satisfy the emancipated cravings. We all felt this, and acted on it in a greater or a less degree, and those who chose the less degree were heartily despised by those who chose the greater.[88] As time, however, rolled on, and cool reflection began to assert her sway, we again remembered that we were Englishmen, and that there was an English language in architecture, and we began again also to recollect that the course of Gothic architecture did not cease to create noble productions in the very period of its coming into existence. Some, on awakening to this consciousness, ran at once into the opposite extreme—condemning every lesson they had learned abroad, eschewing the early styles to which they had so recently sworn exclusive allegiance, and despising (according to prescribed custom) all who did not go so far in their new direction as they did themselves; but, on the whole, people now seem likely to settle down into a via media, in which I trust that common sense will be found to reside.

I would not have gone through this list of peccadilloes but for the purpose of warning you against their repetition. We have, I hope, “sown our wild oats.” Let us now take a steady and sensible course.

During the state of chaos which I have alluded to, our revival has suffered seriously from the follies, not so much of its own champions, as of a number of pretenders who had never studied the subject at all, but who, taking advantage of a period of disorder, palmed off upon the public designs, especially in domestic architecture, which—really the offspring of ignorance—were put forward as that of the prevailing taste—as original developments founded on something very early and very foreign; so early, indeed, and so foreign as to have never and nowhere existed. These productions have disfigured our streets and done more than anything to bring discredit on our revival.

Let us now consider what is the course which it becomes us to take in the selection of our groundwork.

I think that our experience of the last few years has suggested to us: first, the expediency of returning in some modified degree to the rule from which we had departed, of adopting as our normal type the architecture of one period, and that not the very earliest though still an early period; but, secondly, the desirableness of not making our self-imposed rule too strait; of, thirdly, making our revival distinctly English; though, fourthly, not refusing to enrich and amplify our English revival with the spoils of our foreign study.

I would, then, suggest that, while your basis should be the earliest form of what has been called “complete Gothic” (such, for example, as that of Westminster Abbey, the eastern part of Lincoln, Newstead Abbey, and the nave of Lichfield), this should be taken rather in a representative than in a literal sense; that your revived style and its developments should, in short, be based on the earlier and more vigorous half of Mediæval architecture, which earlier half should be represented by its central point, as a nucleus round which it rallies, and into which the beauties of the whole may be collected; that the point chosen should be inclusive of much which preceded and followed it, and exclusive of nothing with which it will consistently amalgamate. Nor would I condemn as latitudinarian an occasional departure, either forward or backward, from this point de départ; only asking that the early styles may be, in a certain degree, viewed as one in our revival, rather then split up into many, and their details, with proper judgment and self-restraint, be considered capable of being united, when occasion seems really and distinctly to call for it, in one work, or the earlier and less early forms be used, as may be preferred, for buildings intended to express more of vigour or of delicacy. I would not, however, advocate too free a use of this liberty, and would therefore propose that the early “completed” style, of which Westminster Abbey is our great type, should be always viewed as our central and normal type and rallying-point.[89]

Then, again, I would recommend a return, loyally and unreservedly, to English types. That is to say, that when there is nothing to call for a deviation from it, we should design as a matter of course in English. In doing this, however, I would act as a well-instructed and sensible English writer would act. He would (except under extraordinary circumstances) write in his own language, but would never be so suicidal as to refuse to enrich his mind, and through it his writings, by the study of foreign literature. He would, however, express thoughts thus learned in English; any passage adopted from foreign writers he would probably translate into English, excepting only where its ipsissima verba were of the essence of the quotation. So with the English architect. The architecture of his own country should be his normal type, but it would be madness for him to refuse the lessons he can learn abroad. The results of these lessons should, however, for the most part be translated into English, unless such translation would destroy their vigour and their meaning. He should, as I have often observed, do—not necessarily what, but—as the old architects did. It is patent that our Norman, our transitional Pointed, our traceried windows, and many of our minor details partake more or less of a foreign origin. True, they were not really imported from abroad, but our architects and those of France were working hand in hand and mutually aiding in the development of their common architecture; but our old builders never scrupled, nay, earnestly sought, to gather ideas wherever they went; and yet their productions, replete as they were with the riches gathered in foreign travel, were so unquestionably English that we detect any departure from them at once as a foreign interpolation. Let us endeavour in the same manner so to work in our foreign gatherings as not to disturb the homogeneous character of the whole, much less to suggest the idea that we are designing in a foreign dialect. We then need not fear even to learn and make use of the rich arts of Italian decoration, and still less the more kindred lessons taught us in France by the men who worked side by side with our own old architects.