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

by Sir George Gilbert Scott

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.

“It were a pious work, I hear you say,
To prop the falling ruin, and to stay
The work of desolation. It may be
That ye say right: but, oh, work tenderly:
Beware lest one worn feature ye efface;
Seek not to add one touch of modern grace;
Handle with reverence each crumbling stone,
Respect the very lichens o’er it grown;
And bid each ancient monument to stand,
Supported e’en as with a filial hand.
’Mid all the light a happier day has brought
We work not yet as our forefathers wrought.”

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.