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

by Sir George Gilbert Scott

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.