“Who does not remember the air of grim respectability which pervaded, and in some cases even still pervades, the modern town church of a certain type, with its big bleak portico and muffin-capped charity-boys? Enter and notice the tall, neatly-grained witness-boxes in which the faithful are empanelled; the 'three-decker’ pulpit placed in the centre of the building; the lumbering gallery which is carried round the three sides of the interior on iron columns; the wizen-faced pew-opener eager for stray shillings; the earnest penitent who is inspecting the inside of his hat; the hassock which no one kneels on; the poor-box which is always empty. Hear how the clerk drones out the responses for a congregation too genteel to respond for themselves. Listen to the complicated discord in which the words of the Psalmist strike the ear after copious revision by Tate and Brady. Mark the prompt, if misdirected, zeal with which old ladies insist on testing the accuracy of the preacher’s memory by turning out the text. Observe the length and unimpeachable propriety, the overwhelming dulness, of his sermon.”
Alas! as far as exterior worship was concerned, the Catholic chapels of this period were in an equally sad condition; but from how different a cause! Centuries of persecution had not been able to stamp out the Catholic faith, but penal laws still in force, though not rigorously carried out, forced it to hide away in back streets and lanes, always avoiding whatever might attract public notice, lest it might awaken again the dormant flames of bigotry. Add to this the state of poverty to which, in many places, the Catholic body was reduced, and we need not wonder at the desolate aspect of the chapels, if the miserable structures that oftentimes were used for divine service deserved the name. They possessed, however, the presence of that God who had not disdained the poverty of a stable nor the humble offerings of poor shepherds; in like manner he looked with indulgence on the mean and scanty ornaments that in these sad times decorated his altars, and on the cold and desolate walls within which persecution had forced him to make his dwelling. He was pleased to await the time when happier days and gentler laws should once again permit his worship to be freely celebrated with all the glory and pomp of by-gone years. Such days were rapidly advancing, and Catholics were not slow in availing themselves of each relaxation of penal statutes, each favorable turn of Protestant bigotry, to improve their churches and to carry out more fully their sacred ceremonies—a task of no small difficulty on the part of a community so ill supplied with the riches of this world, and so long, from cruel necessity, forced to content themselves with a simplicity almost akin to that of the early Christians.
The dawn of the revival, which was now at hand, was marked by some writers of eminence whose theoretical works contributed much to prepare the way for it. Their writings were distinguished from those of the earlier antiquarians by a more practical knowledge of building and a more exact delineation of the details of the edifices they describe. Mr. J. Britton may be looked upon as a link between the two schools, as he had some of the characteristics of both. He was the author of numerous works on the English cathedral and other Gothic edifices, all illustrated with really artistic drawings. They were, however, more designed to create a taste for ancient art among the reading public than to assist the professional architect.
“While Britton was thus enlisting the sympathy of the amateur world two architects were engaged in preparing a practical and valuable work for the use of professional students.
“The examples of Gothic architecture which had hitherto been selected for publication were chiefly those which either served to illustrate a principle in the history of the style, or possessed some picturesque attraction in the way of general effect. But neither of these were of real service to the practical architect, who required geometrical and carefully-measured drawings of ancient roofs, doors, and windows to guide him in his designs and to help him in reviving a style the details of which had been as yet most imperfectly studied. Pugin’s (father to the celebrated Welby Pugin) and Wilson’s specimens of Gothic architecture supplied this want. It was a happy accident which brought these men together, the one eminently qualified as a draughtsman for the task, the other equally fitted to undertake its literary labor.”[[104]]
The writer whose name next appears on the roll of champions of Gothic art is one whose memory is enshrined in the hearts of all English Catholics—Dr. Milner, Vicar-Apostolic of the Midland district, better known to most people for his holy life, his ardent zeal, and his controversial power than as a writer on architecture. In this latter capacity, however, he deserves a foremost place among those who prepared the way for the great revival which unfortunately he did not live to see accomplished.
His Survey of the Antiquities of Winchester revealed much erudition and a thorough appreciation of ancient art; but by far the most important part of it was the short but now famous essay it contained, “On the Rise and Progress of the Pointed Arch.” In it the author uses for the first time the appellation now become so general as applied to the architecture of the middle ages—viz., the pointed style. His next work was an important Treatise on the Ecclesiastical Architecture of England during the Middle Ages. In this work the author not only proves himself an antiquary but a man of taste. A work more important still, and one productive of the most serious results, was a short pamphlet entitled A Dissertation on the Modern Style of Altering Ancient Cathedrals, as Exemplified in the Cathedral of Salisbury. In it he protests in vigorous language against the miserable degradation of the old churches accomplished under the name of restoration; nor does he spare Wyat, the leading spirit in these unfortunate improvements. No one before the days of Welby Pugin had so enthusiastically entered into the spirit of the old art, so thoroughly appreciated its beauties, and so ably defended its principles, not only against its avowed enemies, but against the ignorance of many of its would-be admirers. So outspoken, indeed, was Dr. Milner’s language in this pamphlet that it shocked the staid members of the Society of Antiquaries, before whom it was to have been read, and was in consequence withdrawn—not, however, to lie mouldering in its author’s desk, but soon to appear in print, and to work even more important effects on the future than its author ever contemplated.
Dr. Milner died in 1826, the very year that W. Pugin, then a youth of fourteen, was displaying one of the earliest proofs of his taste for mediæval art in devoting long hours to the studying and sketching of the old castle of Rochester.
How little did the gray-haired bishop dream of the wonderful revolution this youth, as yet unknown to fame, was to accomplish within a few years. Little did he think, when he saw arising the humble walls of his Gothic chapel at Winchester, that the day was not far distant when a Catholic architect would revive throughout the land the glories of that style which Dr. Milner had so well defended in days when it was neglected and abused.
One more name of importance must be mentioned before we attempt to trace the outline of Pugin’s career; we again quote from Sir C. Eastlake: