In writing respecting it, nearly nineteen years ago, when my memories were more fresh, I made the following remarks:—
I described the movement as “being the development of a new and vigorous style upon the foundation of the glorious architecture of our own country and of our own forefathers, in the place of one at once alien to our race and our religion.
“This,” I went on to say, “I need hardly tell you is a mighty and most arduous undertaking—so mighty indeed, and so arduous, that I doubt whether, if it had been in the first instance fully appreciated, any body of men could have been found with sufficient daring to set about it. The strength, however, of the movement lies in the fact that it was not deliberate nor preconcerted, but was the involuntary working out of a deeply-seated mental revolution. It was not that a body of men deliberately banded themselves together to carry out and propagate particular tastes or opinions; such would have been but a feeble, or at best an ephemeral and merely local movement; it was rather that a number of persons, in different neighbourhoods and countries, and without any concert, had been led by their own unbiassed and unguided instincts to an appreciation of the long-neglected beauties of our own indigenous architecture. This” (with other feelings), I proceeded to say, “had led them first to study, then to imitate, and ultimately to attempt the revival of the style which had thus involuntarily approved itself to their natural perceptions of what is right and beautiful.
“There is here no conspiracy, no organised movement, no preconcerted effort. Not one of those engaged in it ever thought of its being a movement at all; few of them knew in the first instance that others were affected by the same feelings with themselves, nor perhaps were conscious of any external causes which had given rise to such sentiments in themselves. Yet all, from some internal impulse, seem severally to have been impelled in one and the same direction; and, having at a later period discovered the concurrence of their feelings, their efforts have since assumed the form of a united movement, though originating from the individual and unbiassed feeling of persons wholly unknown to each other.”
In the same paper I spoke in the following terms of the greatest of the early promoters, and in fact the great hero and Coryphæus of our revival, and of the societies which were formed throughout the country for the furthering of the study of our ancient architecture:—“About the time I am referring to, an immense impulse was given to the reformation of architecture by the earlier publications of Pugin. His Contrasts, published in 1836,”—an architectural jeu d’esprit, placing side by side in somewhat burlesqued contrast, selections from Mediæval and modern works,—“while it enraged the majority of our architects, excited others most strongly to press forward toward better things. His True Principles of Pointed or Christian Architecture, which appeared in 1841, was a gigantic step in advance. It grappled at once with all the fallacies which had corrupted modern architecture, and established a code of rules, founded upon common sense, utility, and truth; while his Apology which came out a little later, showed the necessity of falling back upon our national style, and its ready applicability to every requirement of our day. In the meantime the success of his own personal labours was truly astonishing. Not only were the advances he made in the revival of Pointed architecture most rapid, showing genius in every touch,—this was, in fact, the smallest of his achievements,—he actually revived by his own personal exertions nearly every one of its subsidiary arts: architectural carving and sculpture, stained glass, decorative painting, metal-work,—whether in brass or wrought iron,—gold and silver work, enamelling, embroidery, woven textures, paperhangings, encaustic tiles, the manufacture of furniture, and even of ordinary household crockery-ware,—all felt the impress of his hand and of his genius.
“Shortly after Pugin became publicly known, the same course began to be vigorously taken up in our own Church. The societies formed in connection with both Universities were followed up by others in all parts of the country. That vigorous periodical, the Ecclesiologist ... did immense service in exposing the desecration and degradation to which our old churches were subjected, and in promulgating correct principles of ecclesiastical architecture and arrangement.
“A noble feeling for the subject rapidly spread itself among all classes. The zeal for church building and restoration greatly outran the increased knowledge, acts of individual munificence multiplied on all hands, and an entirely new state of things came about.”
Two more decades have nearly passed over our revival since I thus chronicled its progress; and, if it has had (as has been my own painful experience) reverses to deplore, it has had a continued series of successes to rejoice over; and if its early ardour has at all sobered down, this has served, for the most part, to give steadiness and maturity to its efforts; and anyhow, it now possesses architects and other artists of distinguished talent to carry on the work, and, while it has long held absolute possession of the ecclesiastical architecture of the day, it now adds to this many of the most important of our secular buildings.
Its success has been indeed enormous; yet its failures and drawbacks have been in proportion to it. Its artistic merit has been limited to those who have followed it up with an earnest and generous enthusiasm, for it has unhappily been practically followed up by a mixed multitude who view it as a fashion of the day, by which professional practice is to be obtained; but are devoid of all ardour and love for what they are engaged upon. The consequence is that, while we have a certain proportion of new churches and other buildings which need not shrink from comparison with those of the Middle Ages, we have a swarm of others—mere cold-blooded, heartless travesties—a disgrace to our age, and a disfigurement to our towns; but, worse still, while a minority (as I fear) of our ancient churches have been repaired or restored by men who treat them with a loving care, and with studious and intelligent reverence, a large proportion are left to the tender mercies of the mere pretenders,—often not architects at all,—who have no knowledge of, or reverence for, the treasures committed to their unworthy hands; and who have done and are doing their best to rob our country of one of its richest inheritances—its genuine and indigenous architecture.
Nor is this the only drawback to the Gothic revival.