Full text of "Church building; a study of the principles of architecture in their relation to the church"

See other formats

NYPL RESEARCH LIBRARIES

3 3433 06898882 7

Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive

in 2008 witin funding from

IVIicrosoft Corporation

http://www.arcliive.org/details/cliurclibuildingstuOOcram

CHURCH BUILDING

.^vli

E NEW YORK
:;LIC LIBRARY'

ASTOR, LENOX ANO
TILDEN FOUNOAHONS

THE REREDOS — WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL.

CHURCH BUILDING

A STUDY OF THE

PRINCIPLES OF ARCHITECTURE

IN THEIR RELATION TO

THE CHURCH

By
RALPH ADAMS CRAM

BOSTON

SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY

MCMI .
I

Small^ Maynard &■ Company

( Incorporated )

Entered at Stationers' Hall

THE NEW YORK

PUBLIC LIBRARY

254976

ASTOW, LENOX ANO
TILDE N FOUVOATIOI^S.

R \ 902 U

Press of
George H. Ellis, Boston, U.S.J.

Co the JVIctnory of

CHARLES FRANCIS WENTWORTH

PREFACE

The greater portion of the contents of this book appeared
originally in serial form in the columns of The Clmrchman.
The interest in the work manifested by the public, at and
since the time of its original publication, has seemed to the
author a justification for its appearance in more permanent
form. As here printed, the chapters have been carefully
revised and somewhat enlarged, and a number of new illus-
trations have been included.

The thanks of the author are due to The Churchman for
courtesies and to the Bates and Guild Company for the use
of many valuable illustrations not otherwise accessible.

R. A. c.

CONTENTS

PAGE

I. Introduction

II. The Country Chapel i,

III. The Village Church ,^

IV. The City Church go,

V. The Chancel and its Fittings 8q.

VI. Chapels, Baptisteries, and Sacristies 1 1 1

VII. Decoration and Stained Glass 127

VIII. The Altar icj

IX. The Cathedral 171

X. Conclusion 217

ILLUSTRATIONS

Frontispiece. The Reredos, Winchester Cathedral . facing title-page

ViGXErxE. Design for Processional Cross 12

I. The False Picturesque ir

II. The Affectedly Picturesque 15

III. A Country Chapel. (Plan) 18

IV. A Country Chapel 18

V. A Little Church. (Plan) 21

VI. A Little Church 21

VII. A Country Church. (Plan) 23

VIII. A Country Church 23

IX. Another Country Church. (Plan) 24

X. Another Country Church 24

XI. An Example of Vicious Design 26

XII. A Piece of Bad Stone Work 26

XIII. A Good English Design 28

XIV. An English Country Church 29

XV. An Example of Good English Work 30

XVI. The Perfect Type 31

XVII. St. Cuthbert's, Wells 34

XVIII. Harberton Church 35

XIX. St. George's, Stockport 36

XX. Interior of St. John's, Coventry 38

XXI. Interior of Church at Middleborough, Massachusetts . 39

XXII. Plan of Middleborough Church 40

XXIII. Exterior of Middleborough Church 40

XXIV. Plan of All Saints', Dorchester, Massachusetts ... 42
XXV. Exterior of All Saints' 42

XXVI. St. Andrew's, Detroit, Michigan 44

XXVII. St. Mary's, Herts . 44

XXVIII. Hoarcross Church 46

XXIX. St. Stephen's, Cohasset, Massachusetts 47

XXX. St. Peter's, Morristown, New Jersey 47

XXXI. A Piece of Unintelligent Design ........ 48

xiii

I L L U S T R A T IONS

XXXIl. St. Helen's, Lancashire 50

XXXIII. Stratford Church 52

XXXIV. Sonning Church 54

XXXV. Chilham Church 54

XXXVI. Church at Waterloo 56

XXXVII. St. Mary's, Stretton-cum-Wetmore. (Plan) 58

XXXVIII. St. Mary's. (Exterior) 58

XXXIX. St. Mary's, Dalton-in-Furness 60

XL. l"he Typical Plan for a Village Church 63

Vignette. In the Cloister Close, All Saints', B'ookline, Massa-
chusetts 68

XLI. All Saints', Brookline. (Exterior) 69

XLII. All Saints', Brookline. (Plan) 70

XLIII. All Saints', Brookline : In the Cloister 72

XLIV. An Example of Misplaced Design 74

XLV. A Church Dwarfed by its Surroundings 75

XLVI. Christ Church, New Haven, Connecticut 76

XLVII. A New Church in Manchester, England ...... 78

XLVIII. Interior of Manchester Church 79

XLIX. St. Stephen's, Fall River, Massachusetts 80

L. Church of the Ascension, New York 81

LI. Church of St. Mary the Virgin, New York 82

LII. A Mission Church 84

LIII. Trinity Church, New York 86

Vignette. Ancient Gold Chalice 88

LIV. Choir Screen, St. Luke's, Germantown, Pennsylvania 91

LV. Chancel of All Saints', Dorchester, Massachusetts . 90

LVI. St. Agnes's, Kennington, London. (Interior) ... 94

LVII. Choir Screen, Newcastle Cathedral ....... 96

LVI 1 1. Choir Screen, Brodninch, Devon ........ 98

LIX. A Modern English Lectern 100

LX. Lectern in All Saints', Dorchester, Massachusetts . . . loi

LXI. Sanctuary, Holy Trinity, London 102

LXII. Choir Stalls, Middleborough, Massachusetts . . ... 103

LXni. Bishop's Sedilia, All Saints', Dorchester, Massachusetts 105

LXIV. Priests' Sedilia, All Saints', Dorchester 106

LXV. Credence, All Saints', Dorchester 107

xiv

ILLUSTRATIONS

LXVI. Chancel, All Saints', Dorchester, Massachusetts. (Plan)

LXVII. Typical Chancel Plan

Vignette. Ancient Gold Ciboriuni

LXVIII. Font, Cockington Church, Devon

LXIX. Font, Bentham Church, Yorkshire

LXX. Arrangement of Baptistery and Sacristies. (^Plan)

LXXI. Font, Middleborough Church, Massachusetts ....

LXXII. Church of the Holy Rood, Watford. (Plan) ....

LXXIII. Lady Chapel, St. Martin's, Marple

LXXIV. Chapel St. Mary's, Chaddesden, Derry

LXXV. Greenaway's Chapel, Tiverton Church

LXX VI. Arrangement of Chapel and Baptistery

Vignette. Ancient Embroidered Cope

LXXVIL The Adoration of the Magi. (Tapestry)

LXXVIII. The Upper Church at Assisi

LXXIX. Capella Palatina, Palermo

LXXX. The Arcade of Monreale

LXXXL Example of Misplaced Decoration

LXXXIL Santa Maria dei Miracoli, Venice

LXXXIIL Modern English Decoration

LXXXIV. An English Fifteenth Century Window . .

LXXXV. Decoration of Church Roof

LXXXVL Example of Good Leaded Glass

LXXXVIL The Choir of Newcastle Cathedral

LXXXVIII. Reredos, All Saints', Dorchester, Massachusetts . . .

LXXXIX. Chancel of Trinity Church, Boston, Massachusetts

XC. Chancel of Trinity Church, New York

XCL Reredos, Merton Chapel, Oxford

XCn. Triptych, Church at Pendlebury ,

XCIIL Triptych, Douglass Castle

XCIV. Reredos, Glasgow Cathedral

XCV. High Altar, St. Patrick's Cathedral, New York . . .

XCVL Reredos, St. Paul's School, Concord, New Hampshire .

XCVIL Altar Brasses, All Saints', Dorchester, Massachusetts

XCVHL Triptych in Painted Plaster

XCIX. Durham Cathedral

C. Lincoln Cathedral ....

I'AGE

[o8
[o8

lO
12

13
14

15
17
19

: 2 I

■23
24
26

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

Gloucester Cathedral ........ = ... 175

York Cathedral ..^ ... 177

Interior of Amiens Cathedral ......... 180

Exeter Cathedral .182

Winchester Cathedral ............ 183

Beauvais Cathedral. (Choir) . . 184

Salisbury Cathedral. (Plan) ....... 186

Sahsbury Cathedral 187

Cologne Cathedral. (Plan) .... ..... 188

Notre Dame, Paris 189

Lincoln Cathedral. (Plan) 190

Canterbury Cathedral 191

Albany (New York) Cathedral 193

Competitive Design, New York Cathedral 194

Competitive Design, New York Cathedral 196

Competitive Design, New York Cathedral 197

Truro Cathedral 198

Belfast Cathedra] 199

Garden City (Long Island) Cathedral 200

Cleveland (Ohio) Cathedral 202

Competitive Design, Victoria Cathedral 204

Example of Bad Planning 206

Typical Cathedral Plan 209

Competitive Design, Victoria Cathedral 211

Accepted Design, New York Cathedral 214

Ancient Processional Cross 216

CI.
CII.

cm.

CIV.

cv.

-CVI.

CVII.

CVIII.

CIX.

ex.

CXI.

CXII.

CXIII.

CXIV.

cxv.

CXVI.

CXVII.

CXVIII.

CXIX.

cxx.

CXXI.

CXXII.
CXXIII.
CXXIV.

CXXV.

ViG.N'ETTE.

xvi

CHURCH BUILDING

INTRODUCTION

Art is the measure of civilization. We may assert such
claims as we choose, if we have not an art that is instinctive,
the natural expression of a healthy people, then we protest in
vain. We do not possess a genuine, vital civilization.

Not that we must be able to boast of men so ereat in the
various fields of art that they have won for their names an
earthly immortality. Such are rather a sign of a time without
art than of one wherein art is universal. The great painters of
Venice came just as that brilliant epoch of civilization was
swerving toward its fall. Turner was born in the dark ages of
modern England. Wagner and Brahms were as voices crying
in the wilderness. There have always been dazzling personali-
ties that flashed out of the surroundins: 2:loom like the writing
on the wall at the great king's feast ; but they are not manifes-
tations of healthy art. They are phenomena. The sanest,
most wholesome art is that which is the heritage of all the
people, the natural language through which they express their
joy of life, their achievement of just living; and this is civiliza-
tion,— not commercial enterprise, not industrial activity, not the
amassing of fabulous wealth, not increase of population or of
empire. These may accompany civilization, but they do not
prove it.

Since the beginnings of recorded history, art has existed in
varying degrees of nobility, but no period has ever come dur-
ing which it has been essentially wrong, not even the last years
of the Roman Empire or the Dark Ages of Europe, — no
period until our own ; and, whatever it may signify, we are com-
pelled to confess that, when instinctive art had dribbled away
in the futilities of Georgian and our own Colonial work, a time

CHURCH BUILDING

came when, so far as art was concerned, we stood below the
Navajo Indians and the Maories of New Zealand.

Europe was not much better off, but there was a sufificient
difference for the Centennial to give us a vigorous shock ; and
at once we here in America set ourselves to the task of creating
the art that was then considered only one of the amenities of
civilization. We did not succeed in making it instinctive ; but
we learned much, and began a course of imitation that was
often most intelligent, while trained specialists succeeded with
infinite labor in giving us what, three centuries ago, a common
workman would have done without thought and without pains.
We have not realized as yet that art is a result, not a prod-
uct, and that the conditions we now offer are not such as make
it inevitable. When we change the conditions, the art will
follow, — not until then.

Art is the result of beautiful ideas, of beautiful modes of
life, of beautiful environment. He would be a courageous
optimist who would say these existed now in secular life ; but
it is just because they do exist in one place, or can, if we will,
that these papers are written.

For our true industrial art, our noble civil architecture, our
beautiful dwellings, our great secular pictures, — except for the
sporadic cases that owe their existence to isolated genius, — we
must wait for different times ; but what of the Church ? Here
is a society within a society, a life that in theory has preserved
or reasserted the beautiful ideas and environment that once
characterized all phases of life. Surely, if there is any power
in the world to-day capable of evoking a vital art, demanding
art as her true means of outward expression, it is the Church.
But this is not the case, if we are to judge from results; for
the Church here in America does not stand a degree higher
than secular powers in her artistic expressions. In fact, she

INTRODUCTION

seems even to fall behind. She has created no religious painter,
no music, no school of art work, and, above all, no logical
architecture. In worldly affairs it has become the fashion to
affect the splendors of elaborate architectural form, and the
results are as chaotic as one could ask. Style follows style, as
fashion changes, until at last we are confronted by an absolutely
futile confusion. Has the Church stood aloof from this Babel
of tongues ? Has she pursued her way uninfluenced by the fads
around her.-^ By no manner of means: every newly discovered
style has found favor in her eyes ; and she has become, archi-
tecturally, but the echo of the artificiality of secular life.

It is not surprising that this should be so. Had the life of
the Church been unbroken by conflict, had she remained
united, she would have maintained her position as the leader,
the creator of art; and, under her inspiration and control, paint-
ing and sculpture and architecture might easily have con-
tinued their development, handing on to secular life the styles
and modes they had developed under the spiritual. This was
always the case in the past, since Christianity first became
dominant. Art in all its forms owed its inspiration to the
Church, and without her could not have existed. There is no
reason to suppose that there would have been any change, had
the Reformation never taken place, or had it been a movement
that contented itself with internal reforms, not one that insisted
upon revolution and disruption.

Under the circumstances, art as a universal mode of ex-
pression, as a common heritage of all men, received its death-
blow in the sixteenth century, when the Church was shattered
and her power destroyed. From that moment the decadence
began ; and the fall was swift, indeed, not only in England, but
throughout Europe, and chaos took the place of order, uncer-
tainty and affectation that of the clearly defined motives that
until then had been followed consistently.

CHURCH BUILDING

Architecture, together with all art, is the exact expression
of the mental, social, and spiritual temper of the times that
produce it. That modern secular architecture should be what
it is is eminently fitting, but that the same qualities of trivial
fashion and triumphant individualism should obtain in a
portion of that Church which we hold to be changeless and
stable, resting serene above the vacillations and vicissitudes of
human society, is certainly a most unfortunate condition of
things.

The results of recent church building in America are such
that it is impossible for us to deny that the principles upon
which we work are radically wrong. They may voice the chaos
of contemporary social and economic conditions, but they
slander the nature of the immutable Church.

That this should be so is by no means surprising. The
Anglican Church was established in America at precisely the
worst time in the history of this branch of the Catholic Church,
and therefore the time when its architecture was at the lowest
ebb. Severed almost entirely' from the parent stem, it was cut
off from all the growing influences that were to re-create some-
thing of early vigor and glory in the mother Church, and was
left defenceless in the midst of the rushing social events and
political conditions that were to show their general effect
through the collapse of all local and national art.

During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the neo-
pagan style, which had gradually lost what shreds of Christian
tradition it retained under Wren, served fairly well for the
Puritan meeting-houses and for the very few new structures
demanded by the prostrate Church ; but when the Catholic
revival of the first half of the present century began to lead men
to desire something more in harmony with church history and
tradition than the Georgian pseudo-temples with a steeple on

INTRODUCTION

one end and a little, screened chancel on the other, the resulting
attempts in this country at a Gothic restoration, in echo of the
similar successful restoration in England, were not crowned
with striking success. Study of mediaeval models rarely went
further than the contours of mouldings and the outlines of
arches. The old meeting-house principle remained; and flimsy
columns of iron, glaring light, awkward galleries, and box pews
made Gothic details of no avail. Men bowed before the rocky
masses of Durham and in the mysterious caverns of Cologne,
but the traditions of the meeting-house and the commands of
the wardens and vestry were heavy upon the builders ; and
though they put jig-sawed tracery in their pointed windows
and filled them with ground glass in diamond panes,
though they designed wonderful buildings with aisles and
transepts, arcades of plaster arches on iron columns, and with
beautiful Early English mouldings on their black walnut pews
and galvanized iron crockets on their wooden spires, all was of
no effect; and the shocking building remained a meeting-house
still, only less honorable, less respectable than the Georgian
structures of the eighteenth century.

The idea of the architectural restoration in England had
taken root, but the growth was wilful and lifeless. Forms were
copied after a fashion, but principles were ignored. Therefore,
the alleged "Gothic" was an affectation without reality or
truth. The false and deadly principles that obtained in church
building during the bald eighteenth century persisted obsti-
nately ; and, so long as they endured, just so long was good art
out of the question.

In England the Catholic and Gothic restorations have sue-
ceeded at last in getting back to basic principles ; and, as a result,
the only vital, modern, consistent church building to-day is that
of England. It is based on a clear conception of the nature of

CHURCH BUILDING

a church, and we must accept this in America if we are to see
our own church architecture take its place with that of Eng-
land.

What, then, are the qualities of a church, and their order of
precedence ? It seems to me that they are four, and that they
stand in the following order of importance : —

First of all, a church is a house of God, a place of His
earthly habitation, wrought in the fashion of heavenly things, a
visible type of heaven itself. From the day when God gave to
Solomon the plan and the fashion of the temple down to those
wherein our own forefathers lavished their scanty wealth and
toiled with devout hands to raise the awful fabrics of the medi-
aeval cathedrals and abbeys, this thought has lain as the corner-
stone of every one of the great and splendid churches that
brighten Christendom with the memory of devout and reverend
times. They were building a house of God, and the treasure and
labor lavished so abundantly were consecrated as they might
never be on any other structure. All the wonders of art, — the
handmaid of religion, — all the treasures gathered from many
lands, were lavished here in gratitude and praise and thanksgiv-
ing; and nothing was too precious, indeed, all things failed in
a measure, to show the deep devotion of faithful men, and their
solemn knowledge of the majesty of that Presence that should
enter and dwell therein.

There is scant kinship between this spirit and that which
prompts and governs the construction of contemporary churches.
Were it restored, if only in a small measure, men would under-
stand more clearly the fatal error of the modern principle, real-
ize that no tricks, no imitations, no cheapnesses, no pretences
of any kind, are tolerable in a Christian church, and that the ad-
mission of those things in the temple of the living God is
blasphemy. Instead of the cheap and tawdry structures of

INTRODUCTION

shingles and clapboards, or flimsy brick and stone veneering,
doomed to very desirable decay, we should have once more solid
and enduring temples that, even if by reason of our artistic
backwardness could not at first compare with the noble work of
the Middle Age, would at least take place with it in point of
honor instead of standing, as now, a perpetual reminder of our
meanness and our hypocrisy.

This is the first and highest reason for church building, and
the second is this : the providing of a place apart where may
be solemnized the sublime mysteries of the Catholic faith ; a
temple reared about the altar, and subordinate to it, leading up
to it, as to the centre of honor, growing richer and more splen-
did as it approaches the sanctuary, where is concentrated all
the wealth of obedient and loving workmanship that may be
obtained by means of personal sacrifice through years that
gather into centuries. Previous to the sixteenth century the
churches of England were stupendous treasure-houses, in which
every jewel and statue and picture, every bit of metal work and
carving and embroidery, voiced some personal devotion, some
gratitude of man for mercies and blessings. When, at the word
of Henry VIII., half the consecrated treasure was torn from
the Church and poured into the greedy laps of thieves and syc-
ophants, the spirit of sacrifice and gratitude began to die away ;
and when at last, at the command of an hypocritical usurper,
the last half was dashed into sorrowful ruin by the hands of
brutal fanatics, it vanished altogether, and only in these last
days is it making its appearance here and there, as the old
religious spirit begins slowly to reassert itself.

It is unnecessary to argue for the importance of this exalted
quality in church building. Conscience, instinct, impulse, all
urge us to glorify, with the extreme of our power, the sanctuary
of the Lord. It seems incredible that in the last few centuries

CHURCH BUILDING

this, the eminent reason and law of church building:, should
have been so grievously obscured, until men should wrong-
headedly have reared their auditoriums and show structures,
forgetting the supremacy of the sacramental nature of the
Church in the zeal for the glorification of her prophetic nature.
Such has, however, been the case ; but, thanks to recent events,
it is no longer necessary to argue for a more just conception of
things.

The third aspect of church architecture is this : the crea-
tion of spiritual emotion through the ministry of all possible
beauty of environment; the using of art to lift men's minds
from secular things to spiritual, that their souls may be brought
into harmony with God. The agency of art to this end is im-
measurable, and until the time of the Reformers this fact was
always recognized. Not in the barren and ugly meeting-house '
of the Puritans, with its whitewashed walls, three-decker pul-
pit and box pews, were men most easily lifted out of themselves
into spiritual communion with God, — not there did they come
most clearly to know the charity and sweetness of Christianity
and the exalting solemnity of divine worship, but where they
were surrounded by the dim shadows of mysterious aisles, where
lofty piers of stone softened high overhead into sweeping arches
and shadowy vaults, where golden light struck down through
storied windows, painted with the benignant faces of saints and
angels ; where the eye rested at every turn on a painted and
carven Bible, manifesting itself through the senses to the imag-
ination ; where every wall, every foot of floor, bore its silent
memorial to the dead, its thank-offering to God ; where was al-
ways the faint odor of old incense, the still atmosphere of
prayer and praise.

It was the fashion, in a would-be Spartan generation, to
scorn all these artistic adjuncts as superstitious and idolatrous;

INTRODUCTION

but the attempt to succeed without their aid was not crowned
with great success. Art has been, is, and will be forever the
greatest agency for spiritual impression that the Church may
claim, despite the ancient and modern iconoclasts. But for its
manifestation of supreme art in painting and architecture and
ritual, the Church could never have won so quickly the alle-
giance of the civilized world.

And this for the reason that art is in its highest manifesta-
tion the expression of religious things, and that only so, only
through the spiritual power of color and form, light and shade,
tone and harmony — in a word, through art in all its varied
forms — may religion find at once its fullest expression and its
most potent incentive. The triumphant architecture, the sub-
lime art, the solemn and splendid ritual that have grown be-
neath the beneficent influence of Christianity, — nay, that have
owed their existence to the Church as surely as they have ac-
companied her periods of health and vigor, — are the instinctive
expressions by men, through the symbolism of art, of the relig-
ious emotions she has created. Art is at once the flower and
fruit of an age, its glorious manifestation, its guarantee for the
future, its fertile seed that needs but to fall in good ground to
spring up in tenfold strength. Industrial art depends upon
just social conditions for its existence, sensuous art, the art of
Athens and Venice, owes its existence to beauty of life and en-
vironment ; but spiritual and divine art comes only when the
religious spirit is dominant and supreme.

That part of the Church which deliberately rejects the min-
istry of art in her service does so at her own peril, — a peril that
history has shown to be grievous, indeed, and inevitable.

If we are to see speedy restoration of Catholic Christianity
to universal acceptance, of the Church to final authority, we
must abandon our niggardly and parsimonious giving, forsake

CHURCH BUILDING

our flimsy, temporary, chaotic architecture, and build once more
churches that, by reason of their massive stabiHty, their richness
and their splendor, the voiceful pictures of their walls and
windows, the storied stones of their niches and porches and
pinnacles, shall not only be worthy of acceptance as the tem-
ples of God, but shall show forth to men the mystery and sub-
limity of the Catholic faith, satisfy their stifled cravings for art
and bjeauty, lift them into the exaltation of spiritual conviction.
This is one of the most important aspects of church architect-
ure, as it certainly is the one most recklessly and universally
ignored. Only among a people in a land and day when the art
instinct has been almost crushed out by evil conditions could
this carelessness and indifference maintain. Its origin may be
found in certain clearly known historical events, its results may
be seen with equal ease.

The fourth aspect of church building is the one which is
generally considered exclusively, and is precisely the last in im-
portance of the four that I have named, — the arrangement of a
building where a congregation may conveniently listen to the
instruction of its spiritual leaders. I do not mean for an instant
that this quality must be sacrificed to the others : a church, if
it is properly designed, may be a perfect sanctuary, a perfect
temple, a perfect auditorium. I only protest against that cus-
tom of refusing to consider any plan that shows a single seat
behind a column, a nave longer than it is wide, or that does not
provide a picture-gallery light during the day and the illumina-
tion of a theatre at night.

Some fifteen years ago, when Richardson's death removed
the fictitious vitality of the alien style he had tried to make
living, and it began to collapse in the follies of " school-house
Romanesque," a few architects, working quite independently,
began a kind of crusade against the chaos of styles that hitherto

INTRODUCTION

had afflicted church architecture. They began to study the
motives and principles of mediaeval Christian architecture
rather than the mouldings. They sympathized with the new
vitality in the Church, and with the movements toward theo-
logical as well as historical continuity. They conceived the
idea of giving the Church a form of architectural expression
that should be in conformity with the new tendency. Until the
Reformation the development of architecture in England had
been logical, consistent, healthy. At that time it ceased utterly,
all continuity was broken. From then church architecture had
been entirely artificial and perfectly valueless ; and, as the end
of the nineteenth century approached, these qualities had appar-
ently reached the climax of their development in America. In
England the reform had begun with the Pugins, and had been
firmly established by a wonderful line of succeeding architects,
until at last men like Street, Scott, Pearson, Bodley, Garner,
Sedding, Austin, Paley, Stokes, and Wilson, with scores of
younger and equally enthusiastic men, had succeeded in re-es-
tablishing the continuity, and church architecture in England
was a living force again. Upjohn and Renwick had tried to
bring this great movement to America, but its vitality lapsed
with their death ; and Richardson had swept the very memory of
it away. The field was clear, and another attempt was made to
do on this continent what the architects had accomplished in
England. The reform was cordially received, it has spread
rapidly, and at last it would almost seem that it had a good
chance of ultimate victory.

In the chapters that will follow this, I shall try to take up
the question of church building from this standpoint,— the stand-
point of an architectural restoration, — and show the application
of the ancient and eternal principles to every phase of ecclesi-
astical architecture, from the country chapel to the cathedral.

THE COUNTRY CHAPEL

In the introductory chapter I have spoken of the history of
church architecture in America, and have rous^hlv named the
errors of which we have been guilty, specified the motives, the
artistic dogmas, that lie at the root of all good church building.
Let us now begin at the beginning, and endeavor to apply these
principles, test existing work by them, and see how ecclesi-
astical architecture will manifest itself at this present day,
founded as it must be on the architectural history of all
Christian time, with the lesson of the triumphs and failures
of two thousand years before our eyes, the nature of our own
peculiar civilization, our own epoch always in our minds.

And, above all else, let us remember this : when we build
here in America, we are building for now^ we are manifesting
the living Church. It is art, not archaeology, that drives us.
From the past, not in the past. We must return for the fire
of life to other centuries, since a night intervened between our
fathers' time and ours wherein the light was not; and, therefore,
it does not come direct to our hand. We must return, but we
may not remain. It is the present that demands us, — the im-
mutable Church existing in times of the utmost mutability.
We must express the Church that is one through all ages; but
also we must express the endless changes of human life, the
variation of environment. This is church architecture; the
manifestation through new modes of the ecclesiastical past;
unchangeableness through variety; the eternal through the
never-fixed.

This question will command further and more detailed con-
sideration later on, when we approach the more ambitious work
of church building; but it is of great moment here where we

CHURCH BUILDING

are beginning with the simplest of the structures of the Church,
the chapel and mission of the country towns. No matter how
small they may be, how inexpensive, how simple in design, they
are yet churches ; and in the least of them one should be able
to read as clearly the nature of the power that brought it into
existence as in the greatest of cathedrals. The country chapel
is a great and unsolved problem so far, at least, as we in
America are concerned. Perhaps the building committee does
not think it worth while to go to an architect when so little
money is to be spent ; perhaps some one has fallen upon a " Col-
lection of New and Tasty Designs for Pretty Churches," issued
by Western commercial practitioners, and is beguiled by the
gorgeous offer of " plans and specifications for one hundred
dollars"; perhaps a warden or vestryman knows a deserving
young man who is a draughtsman in so and so's office, and will
furnish the drawings at half-price. Whatever the cause, the
effect is conspicuous; and the country chapel — the kind that
costs perhaps from $5,000 to $10,000 and seats from one hun-
dred to two hundred people — is almost without exception
horrible in the extreme. Were it frankly rough and barbarous,
a frontier log cabin, it would be honorable ; but it is not this.
It is flimsy in construction and wholly bad in shape and com-
position ; but it is worse than this, for it is made contemptible
by its "ornamentation." Even where it is a perfectly square
box with a steep " pitch roof," it becomes doubly hideous
through the arched windows, the silly wooden buttresses, the
futile belfries and pinnacles that are not ecclesiastical, though
their creators thought so.

This particular type is no longer to be condemned, for it
has passed ; and we know it now only from the decaying struct-
ures that still stand, forlorn reminders of our own dark ages
and of the mutability of timber. It has passed, but its place

^. ,11

^^llWlm..

I _.

I. EXAMPLE OF FALSE "PICTURESQUE.

n. EXAMPLE OF THE AFFECTEDLY PICTURESQUE.

CHURCH BUILDING

is taken by a worse and more pernicious style, — that of the
chaotic, fantastic, would-be picturesque horror that owes its
existence to the deadly shingle, the seductive wood-stain, cheap
colored glass, and " the art movement." (See Figures I. and II.)

The commercial "architect," who prints engaging volumes
of ready-made plans, is the prophet of this very dreadful dispen-
sation ; and it is almost impossible to characterize its wicked-
ness too strongly. The poverty and flimsiness of design and
construction struggle to hide themselves beneath a cheap and
tawdry elaboration, and the result is both very bad art and
very bad morals. Small dimensions are supposed to argue
insignificance; and, to counteract this, a diminutive structure is
tortured into a grotesque echo of some larger building, with
most ignominious result. One constantly finds churches, seat-
ing perhaps less than two hundred, where the plan is cruciform,
and there are aisles, clerestory, columns of iron or wood ;
insignificant towers, gables, belfries, and porches complete the
already shapeless exterior ; and the result is a scandal.

There is just one way to build a country chapel, and that is
to build it as simply as possible and of as durable materials as
may be obtained. It may turn out to be bald and ugly, but
ugliness is better than impudence. A plain and ugly church
may be dignified and religious, a " cosey, home-like little
place " never can.

This is the problem: to build a shelter for the altar and
congregation, together with such adjuncts as are necessary, for
the smallest cost consistent with honesty, durability, dignity,
and reverence. Let us take the plan first.

In such a church as we are now considering, there could
hardly be a vested choir : therefore, the chancel is solely for the
altar and clergy. This does not mean that a little recess is
enough. More space is necessary than is actually demanded

THE COUNTRY CHAPEL

by the function of a sanctuary, for there must be a due propor-
tion betvyeen nave and chancel. If we cannot obtain dignity
through size, we can through relation : therefore, the chancel
should be deep, even if narrow. It need not be divided from
the nave by a screen, which properly belongs only in a large
church. A chancel parapet of plain panels, with a heavy rood-
beam above carrying a crucifix or cross, is the best indication
of the transition from nave to sanctuary. Indeed, the choir
screen, unless very elaborate, is something of an affectation.
It is a question of design. Some churches demand it, the
architecture makes it necessary; but more often than not the
screen, particularly if it is of metal, is an offence, injuring
otherwise good work. Like the transept, it seems to belong in
a church of great length and height.

Let the plan of the chancel be as simple as possible.
Three steps at the entrance, one at the communion rail, and
three to the foot pace of the altar give the right elevation in
a church of the size we are considering. The sanctuary should
be square, not polygonal. This latter form is dangerous, and
but seldom used to good effect, except in cathedrals or churches
of great size. In a small church it is inevitably mean and
trivial in effect. The lighting of the chancel should be from
high windows on one or both sides. In so small a structure
a window over the altar, while peculiarly ours by history and
tradition, is hardly advisable ; for, in order to give the altar its
due prominence as the centre and concentration of the church,
it should have space behind for gradines and at least a low
reredos. In a lofty church there is room for both reredos and
windows. In a small church it is difficult to have both without
crowding. It is far better to fill the whole end with a dossal
reaching to the ceiling than it is to confuse the eye by spots of
light and dark, complications of glass, wood, and drapery.

■ifc.

f3'lF"J5-r

IV.

THE COUNTRY CHAPEL

Again, in a short, low churcli the east window, even if filled
with dark glass, is apt to be dazzling and to attract the eyes
from the altar. Moreover, in a church where there is no choir
in the chancel, it is well to keep this part of the structure quite
dark; for, by so doing, we increase the effect of length and
size, adding as well a touch of that mystery that comes from
shadow, — a quality that should be achieved in every church,
and is easy enough in a large building where one can deal with
aisles, chapels, and lofty roofs. I hope it is hardly necessary to
say that a skylight or any lighting in the roof itself is an out-
rage, and absolutely sure to destroy every particle of architect-
ural effect or religious impression.

The size of the nave is determined by the number of sit-
tings : this, of course ; but the question of proportion is a very
different matter. The narrower it is, the better for acoustics,
appearance, and economy of construction. Twenty feet in the
clear is about the minimum ; for this gives two pews, each
seating five persons, and a central aisle about four and a half
feet wide. To seat two hundred people, twenty rows of ten
seats each would be necessary, making the nave from rear wall
to chancel parapet about sixty-five feet, — a good proportion.
With every foot the nave is widened and shortened, something
of the effect is lost, while the acoustics are not improved and
the cost is increased. It is easy and inexpensive to roof a span
of twenty feet, but it is three times as costly to roof a span of
double this width.

If it can possibly be managed, the walls should be high, the
roof low in pitch ; yet since, where this method is followed, the
walls, to be in good proportion, must be a few feet more in
height than the width of the nave, the quantity of stone in the
walls is doubled, and this means extra cost. On the other
hand, a roof of low pitch costs much less than a steep one ; for

CHURCH BUILDING

you can get a tie beam at the level of the plate in this case,
where with a steep roof on low walls you are prohibited from
doing this, and are forced to construct an expensive truss. Of
course, an iron tie rod is a crime that no intelligent architect
would consent to for an instant.

With high side walls it is possible to keep the sills of the
windows well above the floor, and this is most desirable. There
was once a fashion of making the windows low ; but this is a
bad plan, and gives extremely ineffective lighting. Where the
side walls must, on the score of cost, be reduced in height, the
sills of the windows should be kept high, even if the windows
themselves become very small. They may not give much light;
but this is not a fault, if the west window is made large, for this
will sufificiently light the church and from the right point.

The arrangement of the choir space, where the choristers
are not vested, is somewhat difficult ; but, since this condition is
almost inevitable in small churches, it must be solved, and
solved rightly. The old-fashioned scheme of organ and mixed
choir at the west end in a gallery is good, and is usually fol-
lowed by Roman churches of whatever size. It is not very
popular with us, for some reason or other, probably because
chancel choirs have become so fashionable. If it is desired
that the music be near the chancel, then a space may be pro-
vided opening either into the chancel itself, as in Figures III.,
VII., and IX., or into the nave, as in Figure V. In either
case there should be access to this choir space from outside,
so that the singers and organist need not pass through the
congregation, and the choir may be shielded from view.

In the matter of design, of architectural style, cost is of
course the limiting quality in work of the kind we are now con-
sidering ; yet economy need not mean inferiority. If the law
followed is that of perfect simplicity, it is hard to go far wrong.

'"V;-)

=llf^^^'

'•i« >«? 'j^ f'^ ' f ^

^r ^j 1^ ^1 ^(^'It^

Vr---*- i*"*"— t/ ^L

■r

-tL

I i ^

VI.

CHURCH BUILDING

It is only when there is an ill-considered striving after inex-
pensive elaboration that there is trouble. There must always
be the basis of a long and narrow parallelogram covered with
a simple roof, unbroken from end to end. Square plans and
complicated roofs kill all repose, all dignity, all effect. A
tower is fatal unless it can be large enough to be respectable.
The little square erections with or without wooden spires are an
offence. As will be shown later, central towers are impos-
sible, unless the church is of good size. The west tower on
the axis of the nave, simply a continuation, as it were, of one
bay of the nave itself, is the position that is sanctioned by prec-
edent and artistic law ; but it is expensive, and almost out of
the question in a small church. Figures IV., VI., VIII., and
X. show several treatments of the exteriors of small churches,
two without towers, one with the western position, one with the
tower on the side and used as a kind of chapel or transept.
Figure XI. is an example of the chaotic and reckless designing
that is an offence to God and man.

We cannot hope to rival the little churches of England in
this day and generation, for conditions absolutely prevent the
hearty lavishing of labor that was characteristic of the Middle
Ages. The cut stone and carving, the elaborate stone tracery,
the buttresses and balustrades and pinnacles are out of the
question. We cannot restore the externals of the Gothic style;
but we can endeavor to re-create the underlying spirit, and lead
it to express itself in the new forms we must impose on it. We
can begin by building in stone, not in wood; for, though it costs
more at first, it is permanent, and it is respectful. Almost any
local ledge stone will serve if it has a fairly even face: the
cobble-stone style, the absurd result of a misguided attempt at
the "sweetly-picturesque," is very shocking (see Figure XII.);
and it is safe to say that this kind of stone — that is, rounded

VII.

:%k:^04^

THE COUNTRY CHAPEL

field stones — can never be used under any circumstance what-
ever. A wall must have unity and coherency: if it lacks these
qualities, it is not a wall ; and round stones absolutely prevent
these results. What is called " seam-faced " granite is the very
best material where it can be obtained. In the Central West,
limestone and sandstone are comparatively cheap ; and they, of
course, make an ideal wall, provided they are used with a
sawed or dressed surface. The so-called " rock-faced " ashlar is
exactly the wickedest building material, next to round field
stones, that has ever been used. Where stone is out of the
question, brick may be employed, if it is common red brick
with a rough surface and is laid up in common mortar. Fancy
brick and colored mortar can jiever be used.

In the matter of interior treatment the law of simplicity
and reserve holds equally good. Stone, except in the smallest
quantities, is out of the question because of its cost : brick has
yet to be used successfully in this country ; plain plaster finish
for the walls seems the only alternative, and, when treated in
flat color without the slightest attempt at decoration, is digni-
fied and respectable. The roof must, of course, be wholly of
wood. The barbarous mode of half a century ago of filling in
the panels between the trusses with plaster is out of the
question, and probably no longer suggests itself. The con-
struction of the roof should be of the simplest; and, if oak or
elm is too expensive for the sheathing, cypress can be used.
Indeed, in the simplest churches, the framing may be of the
ordinary building timber, planed, of course, and in any case,
whether natural oak or spruce, stained dark brown and finished
with a dull surface. American woods in their natural condi-
tion, with the exception of black cypress, which is most beauti-
ful, but very expensive, are too yellow and too light ever to be
employed. This is particularly true of hard pine, which is bad
in color and does not take stain well.

XI. EXAMPLE OF VICIOUS DESIGN.

XII, EXAMPLE OF BAD STONE WORK AND AFFECTED DESIGN.

THE COUNTRY CHAPEL

The question of stained glass will be taken up later. Here
it is only necessary to say that, unless figure windows by the
best men can be had, it is better to use plain "cathedral glass"
in some warm color, set in diamond-shaped quarries in heavy
leads, than it is to try to get an effect with cheap glass.

All the richness and cost in the furniture should be lavished
on the altar, which may be made as elaborate as the money will
allow. It does no harm to have an altar of immense richness
in the plainest little church; but an elaborate pulpit and
lectern, particularly if they are of lacquered brass, are in
exceedingly bad taste, if they outshine the altar. Of course,
they are pretty sure to be in bad taste, anyway, if they are in
brass, — a material that can only be used very sparingly. Even
in very small churches the altar should be large, eight feet in
length being about the minimum, though side altars may be
shorter. The bishop's chair, which is a throne only in cathe-
drals, should be very simple, and should stand to the north of
the altar and facing it. The credence is placed on the south, as
are also the sedilia for the priests, should these be necessary.
The communion rail should always be very simple, fancy brass
w^ork being most out of place. Where there is no vested choir,
the lectern may very well stand in the centre of the chancel,
before the altar, in the old monastic fashion. The best form is
the carved support with a triangular, revolving book-rest. The
pulpit should be on the north, or gospel side : it should be well
elevated ; and, the plainer it is, the better. As I have said above,
the trade pulpit of lacquered brass is exceedingly wicked. One
thing that it is well to remember, particularly in small churches,
is that the lishtins: at night should be from the side, not from
central chandeliers, since these are dazzling, and conflict with
the altar.

Sometimes there is not money available even for a church

CHURCH BUILDING

of the roughest stone, and wood is the only material that can be
used. Where this is the case, it is better to treat the new
building as a frankly temporary shelter, built to last only until
a real church can be erected. It is foolish to waste a dollar on
such a structure as this, and it is better to spend no more than
what will barely suffice to make a shelter than to throw it away

Xin. EXAMPLE OF GOOD ENGLISH DESIGN.

on boards and shingles. One can worship God in a barn ; but
it is denied to us to build flimsy wooden shanties to His glory,
and to try to deceive Him by the cheap ornament wherewith
we hoodwink our neighbors. If it is worth while building a
church, it is worth building it well ; and, if this generation has
not the funds, then let the work wait for the next.

Wood is a fascinating material, particularly in the form of
shing'Cs : one can build much with it, and at small cost ; but the
temptation to frivolity and fantastic complication is almost
irresistible. It is easy to pile up irregular gables and porches

THE COUNTRY CHAPEL

and belfries, and the result is popularly held to be picturesque;
but it isn't, it is only silly. Great or small, a church must
have dignity and reserve ; and where great size does not give
these things, in spite of the vagaries of the unhampered archi-
tect, it is particularly necessary that the utmost care should be

exercised to get the proportions right and the first effect simple
and even severe. Recently a fashion has developed of treating
a small church like a cottage, of trying to obtain an effect of
" cosiness," which is quite the most wrong-headed scheme that
has offered. A church is a church, not a sitting room ; and,
even if it seats only a hundred people, it must be a church in
every detail. Consider the old English churches shown in
Figures XIV. and XVI. They are very small, yet they are
unmistakably religious in their function; while figures I., II.,

CHURCH BUILDING

and XI. might be school-houses almost, or libraries, or fire-
engine houses. They are without self-respect, without nobility,
even without decency.

yj3

XV. EXAMPLE OF GOOD ENGLISH DESIGN.

The little parish church of England is the most perfect type
ever produced, and must therefore be for us a model in every
way. The fad for " Romanesque "is dead, fortunately ; and the
latest fashion, " Parisian Renaissance," can never be applied to
church work. We have tried many things, but, in the end, we
are driven back where, logically and historically, we belong ; and,

3°

THE COUNTRY CHAPEL

if we try to do what our English forefathers did, without trying
to copy their work, we cannot go very far wrong.

In Figures III., IV., V., VI., VII., VIII., IX., and X. are
shown plans and exteriors of small churches studied from this
source. They are not copies of English originals : they are
only inspired by them. It would be possible, of course, to
measure some old church and reproduce it exactly; but this

XVI. THE PERFECT TYPE.

would be inexcusable affectation, it would be bad art. Into
every design produced at this time must enter something of the
personality of the architect, a great deal of the contemporary
quality of the church. Our sense of economy forbids our
making a church any larger than is absolutely necessary ; and
so we cannot have the dark aisles with their stone piers and
chiselled arches, the side chapels and chantries, the lofty roofs
and deep chancels that are such facile means of producing
structures of dignity and grandeur, so sure a guarantee of

CHURCH BUILDING

mystery and awe in the final effect. Neither do we altogether
need these adjuncts to nave and chancel as yet. Therefore,
we must do the best we can without; and, though the task
is harder, it is not beyond the powers of our achievement.
With study and seriousness of purpose, we can build small
churches that shall be as religious and as worthy in their degree,
as the cathedral itself; and this is an absolute duty^

Reduced to a sentence, then, is not this the law of church
building as applied to country chapels? Build in stone or
brick; plan with rigid simplicity; design both exterior and in-
terior with reserve, formality, and self-control ; have the mass
simple, the composition equally so ; imitate no form or detail
of larger structures, but work for the dignity and the reverence
that are theirs; above all, let the spirit be that of the unchang-
ing Church, the form alone that of the present day.

THE VILLAGE CHURCH

It was in England during the Middle Ages that this particu-
lar type of religious architecture — indeed, of the religious life it
so beautifully expressed — reached the highest point of its devel-
opment. On the Continent the cathedral seemed the unit, the
ecclesiastical centre of the people of a region; but in England,
where the village was more perfectly developed, the parish
church became the vital centre of a community. In this land,
which is also our own, it is not so much the cathedrals that in-
spire our wonder and admiration as it is the matchless little
churches, scattered so lavishly over a fertile land that even now,
after revolution and brutal iconoclasm have done their worst,
scarcely a village is to be found where there is not at least one
church redolent of the love and self-sacrifice and devotion of
perished generations.

There is a strange personality about these churches, an inti-
mate, human quality that one looks elsewhere for in vain. They
are without splendor or magnificence ; they possess nothing of
the premeditated grandeur, the proud magniloquence, of the
cathedrals and abbeys ; there is little evidence of a clear and
preconceived design. They are simply the living monuments of
the sane and healthy devotion, of the joyful Christian faith, of
men to whom religion was the beginning and end of all things,
— even though there was much between.

The village church was the centre of civilization; it was the
source of education, the guardian of the privileges of the people,
the spring of material aid and spiritual consolation. In all
healthy society there is an inextinguishable hunger for beauty,
and this hunger the Church satisfied in the fullest degree. Set
in an environment of natural beauty, the enduring stone was

CHURCH BUILDING

raised in fabrics that, if not imposing and awful, were always
grateful and satisfying. All over the exterior the stone masons,
not then unthinking mechanics at so many dollars a day,
wrought out their fancies, their ideals, even their merry humors,
through the stubborn but endurinor medium of sandstone and

-«.>

XVII. ST. CUTHBERT'S, WELLS.

marble. Within, every man and woman capable of crafty handi-
work — and this then meant the whole body of the people —
found a fair and welcoming field. Great windows rich with fan-
tastic tracery were to be filled with splendid glass ; the altars
were to be adorned with fretted screens and canopied niches
and carven figures of saints ; stalls and pulpit, lectern and sedi-
lia were to be reared of fine woods and chiselled into marvellous

THE VILLAGE CHURCH

richness of panels and pinnacles, canopies and poppy-heads.
There was an organ to be built and cased in elaborate wood-
work, lamps and candlesticks to be wrought of yellow brass,

XVIII. CHURCH AT HARBERTON.

and sacred vessels of gold and silver, studded with precious
stones. There was leather to be gilded and embossed for seats
and wall hangings and the covers of missals and breviaries, and
the latter themselves to be engrossed and illuminated on vellum
and parchment. There were frescos and religious pictures to
be painted, damask and tapestry to be wrought, altar vestments,

Austin & I'dlej', Aixhitects.
XIX. ST. GEORGE'S, STOCKPORT.

THE VILLAGE CHURCH

copes, stoles, and chasubles to be embroidered. Finally, there
were the memorial brasses to be graved when, one by one, they
became necessary, and, perhaps, the altar-tombs, the chantries,
and the chapels.

So the parish church grew like a living thing ; and, as it de-
veloped, it drew to itself every soul in the community, tying
them by every bond of love and memory and association. It
w^as never completed ; for it was living, and finality was impos-
sible. It was not only the symbol of human unity: it was that
unity, made up of all that lay within its control.

An inexhaustible field for the loving labor and the pious in-
dustry of the people, it became as well the source of delight and
iEsthetic satisfaction for new generations. Picture galleries and
museums and concert halls were unnecessary ; for here was all
art freely given, and in its highest forms. A constant incentive
to artistic effort, the parish church became the very power that
made this effort possible, inspiring men, educating them, creat-
ing in them the impulse to art work, giving them the very
ability to make it possible.

There came a day when, in the providence of God, a nation
gone mad was permitted to shatter the lace-like carving into
rae2:ed frasrments, to beat the delicate statues into ruin, to cart
the jewelled windows away and dump them into ditches, to burn
the fretted woodwork and the precious vestments and the illu-
minated missals, and to hand over to a few crafty knaves the
jewels and the treasures that had been consecrated to God.

Whether or no this episode may be looked upon as a suffi-
cient cause, it is quite clear that the description given above
does not apply with accuracy to the modern parish church in
American villages. Of course, the conditions have cjuite
changed ; but, if we cannot have now a village church that shall
be the church of the whole people, we ought at least to have

C H U R C H BUI L DING

one that for those who worship there should be something of
what similar churches were a few hundred years ago. Of course
where a church is open only at the hours of service on Sunday,

XX. ST. JOHN'S, COVENTRY.

this is quite impossible ; and the building must remain a purely
artificial fabric, without personality or sympathy. There is a
very popular movement to reform this altogether; and, though
it started in the larger cities, it is extending rapidly into the
villages. To be sure, one might criticise it in certain ways, par-

THE \M L L A G E CHURCH

ticularly on the score of its apparent devotion to the develop-
ment of the parish house to the total disregard of the church ;
but, in spite of errors, the tendency is wholesome and righteous,

XXI. CHURCH OF OUR SAVIOUR, MIDDLEBOROUGH, MASS.

and when, by and by, it extends from the parish parlor, the
kindergarten, and the bowling-alley to the sanctuary, it will have
found its true bearings, and begin to show the noble results
that will then be possible.

But even now there is no valid reason why we should not

XXII. PLAN OF CHURCH OF OUR SAVIOUR.

XXIIl, CHURCH OF OUR SAVIOUR, iMIDDLEB(JROUGH, MASS

THE VILLAGE CHURCH

accept the old idea of the church as a fabric, and, recognizing
the very unique and exalted nature of the problem, and the
honorable results that are possible, try to build village churches
that shall be worthy to stand with those our forefathers built
in the old home four centuries ago. We don't do it: we build
recklessly, thoughtlessly, extravagantly, often ; and, as a result,
our village churches are no more consistent than are our secu-
lar buildings. Who is to blame 1 Well, every one connected
with the work, in some degree. The rector, perhaps, because
he has been in England and has read " Parker's Glossary,"
and so thinks that he can lay down the general lines of the de-
sign and direct the chosen architect ; the building committee,
because they have certain practical theories which they insist
shall be expressed or followed ; the congregation, because they
will make no sacrifice in order that the new church shall be as
beautiful as those in the Middle Ages ; the architect, because he
has not the slightest sympathy with ecclesiastical architecture,
doesn't know what the word " Gothic " means, and is interested
only in getting a conspicuous- edifice and his commission.
Above all, the chief blame is to be attributed to the nature of
the times in which we live, when impatience demands a com-
pleted structure on the day of dedication ; when everything must
be done by hired workmen, perfectly indifferent and without
any feeling for beauty ; when the " Ecclesiastical Art Fur-
nisher" is rampant, and public opinion does not make it a
crime to buy his wares. We have been so long without art
that it is no longer instinctive, but is become a commodity
that the building committee expects to buy from its architects.
Verily, it would seem that there were reasons why we should
not build as our fathers builded in the fifteenth century ; but,
if so, there are none why we should not try to do so. It is
being done every day in England : why not here } Not that we

lliii
■■■■■111

I I I y

XXIV. PLAN OF ALL SAINTS

*t "f.

<fS

' ^ » ] R i

XXV. ALL SAINTS', DORCHESTER (BOSTON).

THE VILLAGE CHURCH

should wholly succeed : this must be forever impossible, or, at
all events, out of the question until we have a civilization that
once more makes the appreciation of beauty and the ability to
do artistic work instinctively, as much a part of life as it was
then. But we could at least have the honor of trying, and the
results would be better than those that confront us now.

To build a church rightly, it is necessary to do three things:
first, to build in the only style that we have any right to, and
that has any kinship with the American branch of the Angli-
can communion of the Catholic Church ; second, to select an
architect who believes in the Church and sympathizes with her,
who understands Gothic as a living, not an historic style, and
then to rely on him implicitly ; third, to build a little now,
and build it right, instead of trying to build a great deal, and as
a result building it meanly. Let us consider these three points.

The matter of style is vital : there is a vicious tendency to
follow a fashion, and so obtain something " up to date " in de-
sign. This is quite fatal. There is one style, and only one,
that we have a right to ; and that is Gothic as it was when all art
was destroyed at the time of the Reformation. But this is only
the basis : from this starting-point we must advance, in order
to prevent a dead archaism. We can't work in some perfected
period of Gothic, like Early English, for example, or Decorated,
or Flamboyant. Neither can we use Norman or Romanesque,
and still less can we wander into the delectable but pernicious
paths of the Renaissance. This would be affectation ; but we
can assume anything we like from these styles or from any
others, so long as we assimilate them, make them integral
parts of a great whole. But the base of it all, the primary
architectural impulse, must be that of the last days of Gothic
architecture in England ; namely, the end of the fifteenth cen-
tury.

.//H'^.^,

XXVr. ST. ANDREW'S, DETROIT, MICHIGAN.

■% , ^,

,11.

. VA

XXVri. ST. MARY'S, HERTS.

THE VILLAGE CHURCH

It is hardly necessary to prove that Gothic is the one style
in which we can work. This is generally admitted, now that the
late architectural episode has died in the humiliation of "school-
house Romanesque " ; and the new fashion of Parisian Renais-
sance has nothing to offer, and ^o per force drives its devotees
to a cynical disregard of the Church. But " Gothic " as a term
has not as yet differentiated itself. Too often it means anything
done in any country of Europe between the thirteenth and six-
teenth centuries. Hence we only have buildings that try to
appear, in detail at least, of some particular time and some special
land. This is archaeology, not architecture. If we are to build
honorably, we must take up the life of church building where it
was severed, and continue from that point, adding what we
will, of course, so long as we assimilate it, borrowing anything
that is available from earlier periods, even from as far back
as the Norman. But the root must be the English Perpendic-
ular Gothic of the early sixteenth century.

Doing just this is what has made the English church archi-
tects of this generation great men, and has created a vital
school of church building in that country. Doing just the
reverse is what has abandoned us to chaos.

The selection of an architect is quite as important a matter
as the restriction of style. It is apt to be left almost to chance.
There are scores of really great architects in America. There
are, perhaps, a half-dozen who feel Gothic, understand it, and
can therefore work in it as the Church must demand they
should work. There are many who can copy Magdalen tower
intelligently, who can draw accurate thirteenth-century mould-
ings, and who can select good tracery from photographs and
measured drawings; but these are not available men if we are
to build living churches. Yet, if a church is to be built, a com-
petition is announced ; and any architect who has a friend at

CHURCH BUILDING

court is asked to submit designs. He may be an " arcboeol-
ogist," a classicist, a patron of Romanesque ; but it is assumed
that at least he can design so simple a thing as a Gothic church.
Then, when the plans are all in, the building committee, half

Bodley & Garner, Architects.
XXVIII. HOARCROSS CHURCH.

of whom have perhaps never been in England, pick out the
scheme that looks best on paper, regardless of the abilities or
the sympathies of the designer.

Then the authorities begin their instructions. "There
shall be no east window, for we don't like the light in that
place." "No: we can have no big columns to obstruct the

XXIX. ST. STEPHEN'S, COHASSET, MASS.

McKim, Mead & White, Architects.
XXX. ST. PETER'S CHURCH, MORRISTOWN, N.J.

CHURCH BUILDING

view of the pulpit." "Those windows are too high: we must
have the sills lower." " A $30,000 church without a transept
and a polygonal chancel and a fine steep roof ? Absurd ! We
must have all these things." " A rose window is very lovely :
put one in the front. And we must have a triforium and a
narthex and a cunning little octagonal baptistery, by all means."

XXXI. EXAMPLE OF UNINTELLIGENT DESIGN.

This is hardly the way to build a good church. In the first
place, a competition is exactly the worst way to choose an
architect. Instead, one should be selected solely on the ground
of the work he has done ; and, once chosen, his hands should be
free until the day the church is consecrated. In only one thing
should he be held under rigid control, and that is the matter of
cost. In design, materials, methods, his word should be final.

I grant that it is quite wrong that this should be so. We

THE VILLAGE CHURCH

ought to be able to build a church without the intervention of
an architect, but we can't. He is a product of the new condi-
tions of life wherein art is an exotic, no longer the inalienable
right of the people ; and, so long as these conditions continue,
he is a necessary evil. No single architect can build as per-
fectly as the old priests and abbots and stone masons ; but he
can build better than anybody else in this day and generation,
and so he must be accepted and his authority recognized.

I have said above that, in order to build well, it is necessary
to build a little and build it right. Let us suppose that a village
parish has $30,000 to spend on a church to seat three hundred
people. The tendency nowadays is to try to get a structure
complete down to the last electric light burner and square foot
of carpet. To do this, everything must be " scamped." The
walls must be of rubble, plastered inside ; the cut stone of the
exterior, perfectly plain, without moulding or carving; the win-
dow tracery must be of wood, and the floor also ; the chancel
furniture, thin and plain ; the whole design, small, unimposing,
and poor. Twenty years later the structure is outgrown and
shabby. Then it is torn down ; and the $30,000 is lost, or else
twice the sum is expended in unavailing attempts to magnify
an insignificant thing into dignity.

The money spent on such a building, if devoted to the con-
struction of just so much of a great design as was necessary
to provide for the religious offices and the accommodation of
the people, would not have been wasted. A lofty choir might
have been built, together with, perhaps, half the nave. All the
stone for future carving might have been put in place, but left
rough. The tower and porches might easily have been left
until some future time. Reredos and choir screen, carved stalls
and statues, could all have been temporarily omitted, and the
church, bare and awkward, if you like, would yet have been per-

CHURCH BUILDING

manent and honorable, and right as far as it went. There
would have been an incentive to further effort on the part of
the congregation ; there would have been the certainty that the
structure was permanent, and so men would be encouraged to
add some bit of carving, some statue, some window ; above all,

Austin & Paley, Architects.
XXXII. ST. HELEN'S, LANCASHIRE. ,

there would be a building with history and with constantly
growing associations. It would have been a living thing, a mon-
ument growing and developing from year to year, becoming
ever more glorious and more beautiful.

Granted the true, historic, and living style, and an architect
with ability to work seriously therein, the result would still be
inadequate and even wrong if the church were not designed

THE VILLAGE CHURCH

after this fashion, as a thing that should grow from year to
year, never quite perfect, never finished.

In using the word " village " to describe the particular kind
of church that we are now considering, I may have conveyed
an erroneous impression. The word was used rather in the
English sense than in the American, and the churches referred
to are such as would be built in what, in this country, we call
small cities; that is, those under a hundred thousand popula-
tion. Between churches of this kind and those that would be
built in a large and crowded city there is a distinct difference.
In the former instance a more spacious site is easily available.
The houses are not built in blocks, and are not apt to crowd
up around the church, as in large cities. Moreover, a certain
formality, elaboration, and refinement of detail are desirable in
large city churches ; while in those we are now considering
there may be something of greater simplicity.

Let us consider one or two practical points. In plan the
church must be long and narrow, not only on account of
acoustics, but for emotional and artistic effect as well. In the
case of a village church, much greater height is necessary than
in a country chapel ; for the low church with spreading roofs is
admirable only in rude country districts. The walls of the nave
should never be less than the width between the columns, and
should indeed be a little more. The choir and sanctuary must
be deep, if possible twice their width. The sanctuary cannot be
less than twelve feet from east wall to communion rail, where
the foot-pace of the altar is raised three steps above the sacra-
rium floor. The depth of the choir is dependent on the
number of choristers. In addition to the length required by
the choir stalls, ten feet is necessary to provide for the alleys
at either end of the stalls, the kneeling space in front of the
communion rail, and the three steps to this level from the choir

CHURCH BUILDING

pavement. Each row of stalls should be raised a step at least
above the one in front. The chances are that in any church of
this size provision for a vested choir must be made, and very
likely for an auxiliary choir of women as well. Where the
latter is necessary, by far the most dignified and ecclesiastical

XXXni. STRATFORD CHURCH.

method is to provide a kind of "nuns' gallery" on one side of
the choir and looking down into it. This is perfectly satisfac-
tory from a musical standpoint. It gives a chance for a fine
architectural effect, and it also solves the vexed question of the
manner of vesting female choristers.

The plan of the body of the church will almost inevitably
be the old fashion of a central nave, long, narrow, and high, with

THE V I L L A G E CHURCH

low and still narrower aisles on either side. As I have said
before, the cruciform plan demands a central tower, since it is
impossible to treat open, intersecting roofs in any good archi-
tectural fashion. Such a to\\:er is very expensive, and so it is
usually out of the question. Where the church is cruciform
without aisles, the cost is not very great ; but this scheme is not
a very safe one in so small a building. It is apt to diminish the
effect of size both outwardly and inwardly. The three-aisled
plan is by far the best, and may even be considered the
classical type. It may be varied almost infinitely. The aisles
may be wide and low and filled with pews, or they may be high
and narrow and used only as ambulatories. This latter mode
gives a certain formality and stateliness that seem more conso-
nant with the city church than with the type we are consider-
ing. In All Saints', Dorchester (Figures XXIV. and XXV.), the
aisles are narrow and low, the clerestory being very high and
containing the chief range of windows, those in the ambula-
tories being very small and filled with dark glass. Where
there is an insuperable prejudice against seats behind columns,
this scheme can be followed ; for it gives the requisite shadow
behind the arcades and yet leaves all the seats in the open.

This prejudice against columns that cut off a direct view of
the altar or pulpit from a few seats in the side aisles does not
seem to be one which is based on reason. Not only does the
omission of these arcades of columns and arches militate
very seriously against the dignity and impressiveness of a
church interior, it also is almost certain, particularly in the case
of large churches, to destroy all sense of just proportion.
Where sreat lenorth is obtainable and the number of seats is
not excessive, accommodation may be provided within the
lines of the columns, as in the case of All Saints', Dorchester;
but it is almost impossible to increase the width of the central

XXXIV. CHURCH AT SONNING.

XXXV. CHURCH AT CHILHAM, KENT.

THE VILLAGE CHURCH

nave beyond the limit of thirty-five feet without enormously
increasing the cost of the church or else quite destroying the
effect of proportion. Where a long nave is not possible and five
hundred seats or more are required, there is no way of providing
for this except by placing them in side aisles. Of course, this
results, as I have said before, in cutting off direct view of the
altar from a few seats ; but this is by no means fatal. There
are plenty of seats, with a direct view, in the nave itself; and
those in the aisles which have not this are few in number.
The prejudice is rapidly dying out. It is an heritage from
Puritan times, and one which is not destined to endure. A
little reasoning will show that it is absurd to sacrifice every
question of dignity and proportion for the sake of what is
in reality only a prejudice.

Not only are side chapels almost indispensable conveniences
in churches of any size, they are also the source of most beau-
tiful effects of light and shade, and give the " opening out "
effect at the east end of the church that is so desirable. One
chapel is usually all that is necessary in village churches ; and
this should be in the most accessible portion, with an
independent entrance or else opening out of the side porch.
Oftentimes this side chapel can be so arranged that in winter
it can be shut off from the church by traceried screens filled in
with glass. This makes it possible, on occasion, to heat the
chapel alone, which is sometimes a distinct convenience ; yet,
when the full seating capacity of the church is demanded, the
screens can be opened or moved back. Usually it is well to
have the morning chapel on the same side as the sacristy, in
order that both the high altar and the side altar may be served
from the same place. In the "typical plan " that I have shown,
the chapel is arranged after this system. This is a particularly
good place for a memorial tomb, if there should be demand for
such.

CHURCH BUILDING

There are, of course, a great number of technical points
that I might refer to in connection with the details of an ideal
church : the size and contours of the piers with their spacing ;
the nature of the arches (that is, whether they should be two,
three, or four centred, and whether they should be sharp and
pointed or wide and low) ; the size of the windows ; the

XXXVI. PARISH CHURCH, WATERLOO.

Paley & Austin, Architects.

design of tracery, — indeed, all the many points that must be
carefully considered by any conscientious architect. These
are, however, as I have said, technical considerations; and,
since the object of this essay is not to lay down rules whereby
any architect or layman may design a church to suit himself,
but rather to indicate the general principles which govern
church building, it is unnecessary to refer to this here.

THE \^ILLAGE CHURCH

The things most carefully to be avoided in planning are
precisely those that are modern innovations. Not because
modern fashions cannot be good, but because in church archi-
tecture they do not happen to be so. The medieeval builders
worked at their problems just as did the Greeks ; and, like them,
they succeeded in finding exactly the right way to do things.
But they had what the Greeks had not, and that was the
inspiration of Christianity. Therefore, the style they cre-
ated was far more mobile, personal, variable. It gave an almost
unbounded field to the imagination, it permitted infinite variety
in detail ; but back of all this liberty were the fundamental
laws of proportion and of composition. When we began to
return to Gothic as the one ecclesiastical style, we quite ignored
these essentials, and tried to amuse ourselves with details
alone. Hence the errors that have been made, and that persist
vigorously even now.

One of the worst of these errors is the stubby, cruciform
plan without columns and with low side walls, a steep roof sup-
ported on heavy trusses, and a polygonal chancel. On these
lines good or even tolerable results are absolutely impossible.
An architect who would follow them is just as criminal as one
who would change the proportions of a Greek temple. This
unpardonable corruption owes its existence in a large measure
to the persistence of the old Puritan meeting-house prejudice
against columns or piers or any architectural feature that would
differentiate the structure from a lecture hall. The fancied
necessity of getting rid of all obstacles to direct vision, together
with the very absurd theory that a square plan rather than a
long one gives the best acoustics, is responsible for the shape-
less and ignorant edifice that has usurped the place of the really
Gothic, Christian, and Catholic church.

What, then, is the scheme of a typical village church ? To

XXXVII. PLAN OF ST. MARY'S CHURCH.

Micklethwaite & Clarke, Architects.
XXXVIII, ST. MARY'S, STRETTON-CUM-WETMORE.

THE Y I L L A G E CHURCH

me it seems something like this: The main lines are those laid
down by centuries of precedent. At the west end is the tower
and main entrance; the body of the church is laid out on the
simplest lines ; a nave 24 to 27 feet wide and 75 to 90 feet long
is separated from the aisles 13 to 15 feet wide by arcades of
arches supported on stone shafts 1 5 feet on centres. For its
architectural effect the body of the church depends on perfect
simplicity, on the shadow in the roofs, and on the play of light
and shade from the large windows in the aisles and the small
ones in the clerestory, and the many shafts with their curving
arches. As one approaches the chancel, however, the building
begins to expand and reveal effects of distance, of width, of
profound shadow and sudden lights. The main lines of the
nave, of course, continue straight to the altar, broken only by
the chancel arch and the screen or rood beam ; but outside these
main lines, that seem to give strength and simplicity, all is va-
riety and elaboration. On the north the aisle opens out into
the deeper shadow of the baptistery ; on the south the morning
chapel affords the requisite distance ; yet the aisles themselves
narrow on either side of the choir into low and comparatively
dark ambulatories, that give through the arches of the choir,
half filled with traceried screens, the shadow necessary to em-
phasize the brightness of the choir and sanctuary.

A good Gothic church must begin in simplicity at the west-
ern entrance and then develop in two ways simultaneously as it
reaches the choir : it must draw in, concentrate, until it con-
verges on the high altar ; and it must open out, expand, reveal
vistas into chapels, ambulatories, aisles. It is hard to describe
just what is meant, and it is impossible to explain why it should
be necessary, why it should be an essential part of the Gothic
idea ; but it is, as witness almost all churches of the Middle
Ages, and for a contrast those so numerous ones of modern

CHURCH BUILDING

times where the principles are forgotten, and hard walls and no
vistas whatever make erudition worse than useless. Westmin-
ster Abbey is a good example of the ideal type, or must have
been so until it was turned into an exhibition of inferior mortu-
ary sculpture. St. Mark's in Venice, though not Gothic at all,
is quite as good an illustration. Trinity church in Boston will

, -*'-

Paley tk Austin, Architects.
XXXIX. ST. MARY'S, DALTON-IN-FURNESS.

serve to show what is the result of abandoning a firmly estab-
lished law.

In the " Typical Plan " the object is to obtain the utmost
richness of effect, of varying light and shade, of space and dis-
tance, of ultimate mystery, if you like, without unnecessary ex-
pense. I do not mean by this phrase that there should be any
parsimoniousness, any meanness in building, but that there
should be neither wasteful size nor unnecessary adjuncts. It is
such a church as should be built by a parish of perhaps two
hundred communicants. To build it rightly and all at once
would cost, of course, a very large sum ; but to build the chan-

THE V I L L A Cx E CHURCH

eel, sacristies, and four bays of the nave, leaving out all the
carving and ornamentation for a time, and letting the rest of
the nave, the tower, chapel, and baptistery, remain for future
years, would cost no more than is spent on many churches of
equal accommodation, but finished with tower and everything
else complete. Of course, in such a church as this, floor and
walls should be of dressed stone. Stone vaulting is practically
out of the question, except for towers, porches, and small
chapels. To vault a nave with stone means not only immense
cost, but an elaborate system of flying buttresses ; and these are
too ambitious for anything except cathedrals or very large city
churches. I need hardly say that vaults of lath and plaster, or
of steel construction, are utterly and forever impossible to an
honest architect or a God-fearing congregation. The vault is
not an essential part of Gothic architecture, though pedants and
archaeologists have said so. A fine roof of simple open beams
supported on carved stone corbels is infinitely better for such a
church as we are considering than a stone vault, even were this
possible from a financial standpoint.

In designing a village church, the architect has a problem
before him that admits of no rival : the opportunity is incom-
parable. In the country chapel the limitations of cost prevent
any richness or elaboration or the working out of any good
ideas. In the city church the limitations of land are equally
hampering, though in a different way. The village church con-
ceived as a monument to endure for ages and to develop year
by year, the cost being limited only for the moment, becomes
almost the noblest problem that offers. It stands midway be-
tween the country chapel, verging in its design and materials
on roughness, and the city church, with its necessary formality
and stateliness. Absolutely simple in conception, it must be
reserved and powerful in its composition, classical in its propor-

CHURCH BUILDING

tions. But, these qualities once attained, it may blossom into
almost unrestricted richness of detail and ornamentation. The
popular modern church that tries to be effective through a mul-
tiplicity of parts is merely foolish, though the church is free to
cover itself with splendor as with a garment.

For the materials of the exterior, while there is a little more
license than in the case of city churches, there is less than in
the country chapel. "Field" or "quarry" stone, if it has an
even surface and good color, can be used; and "seam-faced"
granite is always good, not only because of the surface, but for
its extraordinary beautiful color. " Rock-faced " sandstone,
" cobble-stones," boulders, or split granite, are out of the question.
For very formal and refined work, dressed sandstone or lime-
stone is necessary ; and these materials should always be used
for carved work and trimmings. Brick, — red brick, that is, —
with plenty of stone worked in for quoins, string courses, and
trimmings, is used admirably in England, but badly in this
country, though there is no possible reason why this latter
condition should exist. Whether brick can be used success-
fully for interior work is still a question. For roofing, copper
is about the only good covering: slate is too hard and cold,
while tiles are out of keeping, and many kinds are of very
doubtful durability.

A matter of the utmost moment in the case of village
churches is that of their surroundings. Too often questions of
temporary or fancied convenience mar what might otherwise
be a most noble structure. It should not be forgotten that the
village church is in a way a more vital part of the life of the
people than a city church. It should afford them the blessings
of art and beauty that otherwise in our peculiar civilization
may be quite absent from their lives. Not only should the
church itself be without and within a combination of all pos-

XL. TYPICAL PLAN.

'^«. LENOX AND

THE VILLAGE CHURCH

sible beautiful things, it should also, from its very location and
surroundings, be a constant inspiration. Land is not fabu-
lously valuable in villages, and there should be enough of this.
The ideal scheme is that of a great and beautiful church in its
own churchyard, surrounded by the tombs and graves of its
own people ; but, even if this is impossible, there should at least
be ample land with trees and shady paths, so that the church
may stand withdrawn a little from the streets and the secular
life around. For the meeting-houses of the denominations
that are used once or at most twice during the week, this is not
necessary ; but for a church that should be a part of the daily
life of its people it is most important.

It cannot be too constantly held in mind, it cannot be too
steadily reiterated, that a village church is in its nature a
matter of paramount importance, not only from an architect-
ural standpoint, but from that of civilization. It is not the
Sunday club of a certain organization : it is, or should be, the
concentration of the life of the people, the greatest influence
that is brought to bear upon them. As it was in the past, so
it should be now. The village church should be the spiritual,
ethical, and artistic inspiration of the people. If it fails in any
of these directions, it is inadequate. If it succeeds in all of
them, then it is triumphant. Let us, then, make our village
churches what they once were centuries ago, — monuments of
the devotion of the people, and, as well, a supreme agency satis-
fying all their infinite desires for beauty of every kind.

It is not necessary to study very carefully the ancient Eng-
lish churches I have used to illustrate this and the preceding
chapter, to see how perfectly they fulfil this requirement. A
single glance at St. Cuthbert's, Wells (Figure XVII.), Harber-
ton (Figure XVIII.), St. Mary's, Herts (Figure XXVIL), St.
John's, Coventry, Stratford, Sonning, and Chilham (Figures

CHURCH BUILDING

XX., XXXIII., XXXIV., and XXXV.), will show how inti-
mately they are of the people, how redolent of the soil, how
deeply religious, yet how personal, simple, and, as it were, irre-
sistible. Those that built them loved every stone that came
consecrated to God from under their hands. They are as
much a part of England as her trees, her birds, her denizens of
the moor and forest, her people. These are but one or two of
an innumerable list, and each is a lasting memorial of nameless
yet honored dead. Consider the little church at Chilham.
It lies in the midst of its green wolds as unconscious of its per-
fect beauty as were the masons who reared its walls ; yet in every
line it is almost faultless, and it shows forth not alone the right
instinct for beauty that marked the men of the Middle Ages,
and that is the rightful heritage of all men, but also the
simple, honest, manly reverence and devotion that are an equal
heritage. Contrast this of ten thousand others equally good
with Figures I., II., XI., and XXXI. of ten thousand others
equally bad, and then say, if you can, that we are erecting just
monuments of a civilization that we loudly protest is at least
equal with that of the past.

Bad as these new churches are, we are not without some
consolation in the shape of work, mostly as yet in England,
that is not unworthy to stand with that of the fifteenth cen-
tury. In Hoarcross and Stockport (Figures XIX. and
XXVIII.) and in nearly all the work of those English archi-
tects I have named in the introductory chapter, we find both
the old impulse and the old results. Hoarcross and Stockport
are crystalline in their delicate perfection. Study them care-
fully, and you shall see what constitutes right church building.
In each of them, as seems to be inevitable in all contemporary
work, there is something of self-consciousness, of the striving
for perfection ; but attribute no blame for this to the architects.

THE VILLAGE CHURCH

p The cause lies in the spirit of the epoch, and no one man shall
escape it.

And, if we fail of the ancient naivete and unconsciousness,
as for a time we must, we have yet, as in those two churches, a
certain unity, a certain " passion for perfection " that has the
most noble results ; and for this we must be grateful forever.

THE CITY CHURCH

If in what I have called the village church ecclesiastical
architecture finds its opportunity for the highest expression, —
short of the cathedral, its highest, since it is less modified and
hampered by circumstance, — certainly in the city church it

XLI. ALL SAINTS', BROOKLINE, MASS.

obtains its fullest chance of showing its adaptability to condi-
tions essentially modern and almost without precedent. It is
here that Christian architecture is privileged to prove its ex-
treme adaptability, its vitality, its power of fitting itself to new
conditions w'ithout losing any of its historic and spiritual
qualities.

In the great periods of church building in the past the city
was but an exaggerated village, so far as its physical aspect

CHURCH BUILDING

was concerned. The streets were irregular and winding, land
was not cursed with the incubus of an artificial valuation, the
houses and shops were low, varied in style, and not sequent

XLII. ALL SAINTS', BROOKLINE, MASS.

in unbroken blocks, trees and gardens and orchards broke the
monotony of buildings, and in every way extent was about the
only quality that differentiated the city from the village.

As a result, the churches of a city, particularly in England,
differed in no radical particular from the churches of the

7°

THE CITY CHURCH

country. Indeed, many of them were but suburban foundations
overtaken and surrounded by the marching town ; and, however
much they might be rebuilt and restored, the primal character-
istic remained, and the church still stood in its ample yard, low,
gentle, and reserved, yet sufiBciently dominant in an architectu-
ral way. Now, of course, all this is changed. The modern city
is a thing unheard of before; and with its straight, uninterest-
ing streets, its towering structures, its dull blocks of houses
and shops, demands quite other methods of design where
religious edifices are concerned.

Yet how persistently the greater number of architects refuse
to recognize this, and continue dully to design churches that
might perhaps be acceptable in towns and villages, but become
insignificant and without architectural value in a great city !
Well designed they may be in themselves, but this is not all of
architecture. A building, to be good, must not be puffed up
with insolent individualism : it must recognize the fact that it is
only a part of a great whole, and that it has duties in addition
to those it owes itself. It must adapt itself to new conditions,
conform in a measure to its environment, and, if the latter is
unprecedented, so must it be also. Yet this is almost unrecog-
nized by the majority of architects ; and, as a consequence, we
find churches with low walls, many little features, slender spires,
and all the other accessories of country design, set down in the
immediate proximity of blocks of dwellings or mercantile build-
ings that lift absurdly above them, crushing them into ignominy,
making towers that do not rise above the neighboring cornices
grotesque and laughable.

But in England, whence come all right impulses in the
revived architecture of Christianity, this blunder has been
noted ; and already the line of reform has been indicated. I
have illustrated several of the notable designs, and shall refer to

CHURCH BUILDING

XLIII. IN THE CLOISTER, ALL SAINTS'.

them later. In the mean time let us consider the architecture
of city churches apart from this most important question of
adaptability to environment.

Of course, in all fundamental particulars church building in
the city is identical with church building in the country. The
same laws as to style hold good, the same principles of plan-

THE CITY CHURCH

ning and composition. The necessary modifications are only
such as would be suggested by the now necessary economy of
space, by compulsory concentration. In certain respects de-
tail and design must be modified ; for the city church, with the
cathedral, is the culmination of the development in richness
and refinement from the beginning in the country chapel.
Here any suspicion of rudeness is out of the question, pictur-
esque effects are futile : the material must be refined and deli-
cate, roush stone is barred and in its place must come stone
that has a smooth and well-dressed surface, or brick, if it is
used properly. Ornamentation must be finely cut and care-
fully placed : everything must be refined, reserved, even formal.
It also seems right that the last vestige of domesticity, — if I
may call it so, — of homeliness, if you like, should be done away
with, that the church may take on the qualities of power,
formality, even of grandeur, that fit it for its new position.
The design appropriate for a grove-shaded cottage in the open
country would be monstrous on a metropolitan boulevard, and
the same is true of a church. Cottage or palace, the home is
still there ; and, hillside sanctuary or looming minster, it is still
the church of God. In each case adaptation to conditions has
been necessary only.

It is true that in a city there must be two kinds of church
building, that for the outskirts where land still has something
of its intrinsic value and where as yet the surrounding build-
ings are comparatively low and scattered, where the streets are
wide and there are good trees, and that for the already
crowded sections where land in quantity is not available and
where blocks perhaps eighty or a hundred feet high strive to
crush every non-commercial structure in their vicinity ; but m
the former instance the logical design is simply that of the vil-
lage church, refined and elaborated in material and design, as

CHURCH BUILDING

I have said, and conceived with a view to the almost inevitable
future, when tall buildings will try to annihilate its dignity and
effect. In the second instance, where a church must be built
in a busy quarter on land of great value, a new set of conditions

must be confronted. In Figures XLI., XLII., and XLIII., I
have shown the plan and two exterior views of a church now
being erected under the more conventional conditions. Suffi-
cient land is available, and the surrounding houses are low and in-
offensive blocks of dwellings. For many years the church must
dominate the whole section, yet ultimately it must find itself in
juxtaposition to lofty structures. Therefore, since it is to stand

THE CITY CHURCH

for centuries, it must provide against this contingency. Hence
it is very lofty in its main walls, which rise some sixty feet

XLV. A CHURCH DWARFED BY ITS SURROUNDINGS.

above the street ; and its tower lifts to the imposing height of
one hundred and seventy-five feet. Its masses are all simple,
its parts few. It is calculated by its very simplicity to hold its
own against all comers. The plan is one that offers a solution
of the vexed question of seats in aisles; at the west end,

CHURCH BUILDING

where such seats would, by reason of the size of the columns,
be almost wholly cut off from any view of the chancel, the
aisles are only narrow ambulatories, which, nevertheless, give
the requisite variety and shadow, while near the chancel they

Henry Vau^nhn, Architect.
XLVI. CHRIST CHURCH, NEW HAVEN, CONN.

widen out into chapels, almost every seat in which has a
view of the altar. This arrangement obviates the necessity of
genuine transepts, which, as I have said before, are not very
successful in any church lacking the proportions of a cathedral.
The arrangement of the parish building and rectory around
a cloister is a scheme the virtue of which will be apparent

THE CITY CHURCH

when the whole section is soHdly built up : then the green and
quiet court-yard, with its traceried cloisters, and its gabled roofs
and mullioned oriels lifting above, will be very grateful and a
soothing relief from the dull and dusty street. In Figure XLVI.
is shown another church worked out on lines that are absolutely
right. There is the loftiness of the walls and the perfect sim-
plicity of parts that must always mark any city church that is
conceived with due regard to its environment. Moreover, it
has that singular refinement, that courtly self-respect, that seem
indispensable. It could not be taken for a country church; yet
it is pure and scholarly Gothic, both modern in feeling and
mediaeval, — the enduring style adapted to new conditions.

Figures XLIV. and XLV. are examples of city churches that
have been designed with scant reference to their surroundings,
and therefore fail completely. I do not refer to the merits of
their respective designs, but only to their adaptability to envi-
ronment. Both are insignificant, and some day will seem more
so, just because they were designed as if they were to stand in
open countr}'. Notice the crushed and apologetic air they both
display, with their low side walls, their roof ridges, and even
their towers, hardly rising to the level of the cornices of the
surrounding blocks. There is no evident reason why this
modern trick of cottage walls — bad even at the best — should

have been adopted. Due regard for the unities of architecture
would have prompted lofty walls and powerful masses. Instead
we have quite the reverse.

Let us now turn to the other category of city churches, that
of the buildings that must from the beginning stand in the
midst of surroundings that do their best to be dominant.
Where solid blocks crowd on every side, it is nothing but folly
to hold by the precedents of the past. The church must be
the chief structure in the group; and, architecturally, it must

CHURCH BUILDING

command its neighbors. To do this, its walls must rise to the
highest possible elevation : I mean the walls of the nave itself.

'1!

Leonard Stokes, Architect.
XLVH, NEW CHURCH, MANCHESTER, ENG.

It does no good to build a low church, and then try to lift it
into dominance by means of a towering spire. The result of
this course is failure. The nave, the main body of the church,
is what tells ; and this must lift itself into supremacy, even if

THE CITY CHURCH

this is at the expense of a tower. For, after all, this latter feature
is not an essential. A church may be just as good without it.

XLVni. NEW CHURCH, MANCHESTER, ENG.

Take, for example, Figures XL VI I., XL IX., and LII.
They show designs calculated for their locations, lofty, mas-
sive, commanding. The amenities of Gothic are done away
with, and stress is laid on its attributes of power and domina-
tion. The Manchester church is a particularly good example

CHURCH BUILDING

of the way in which a church may be so designed as to secure
its unquestioned architectural supremacy and yet be good

XLIX. ST. STEPHEN'S CHURCH, FALL RIVER, MASS.

Gothic. In the interior, again, one feels the essential bigness
of the design and of the designer. Every inch of ground
space is made available ; yet there is adequate variety, shadow,-
composition. It is a perfect type of city church.

In its great simplicity it is also a model. That a church should
become as rich and splendid as possible is true ; but oftentimes

THE CITY CHURCH

this is taken to justify what can only be called tavvdriness, not
only of decoration, but of design. There is a certain school of

L. CHURCH OF THE ASCL:

L. ,, NEW YORK CITV.

ecclesiastical art decoration rife just at present that, not content
with overlaying plain surfaces with the most gaudy and mere-
tricious ornament, strives to torture the very architectural forms
themselves into quite meaningless elaboration. Now there is
no limit to the richness that is desirable, if it is honest and real,
if it is in the shape of goldsmith's work and sculpture and

LI. CHURCH OF ST. MARY THE VIRGIN, NEW YORK CITY.

THE CITY CHURCH

wood-carving and tapestry and good stained glass, not in the
form of gold leaf and lacquered brass, papier-mache and opales-
cent glass; but this richness must be backed up by fine, solid,
and simple architecture. The finer and franker the lines, the
more reserved and powerful the parts, the greater the richness
of the decoration that may be allowed. No amount of splen-
dor could make this church at Manchester weak or effeminate.

In this noble building one finds also the spaciousness, the
largeness of proportion, that are so essential in city churches.
By the very nature of things the ritual is more varied and
elaborate than in the village church ; and it is imperative that the
chancels, and particularly the sanctuaries, should be very large.
The little huddled niches that still linger among us are relics
of a crude period and deserve to be done away with. Breadth,
depth, a wide space between the fronts of the choir stalls,
another between the stalls and the communion rail, and
yet another between the rail and the lowest of the altar
steps, — these things are most necessary for the conducting of a
dignified service, and one that shall not be huddled and con-
fused.

And this spaciousness, this largeness of design, applies as
well to all other portions of the church, — to the piers and arches
of the arcades, the side chapels and other accessories, to the win-
dows, the doors,— indeed, to every portion of the interior. And
the same is true of the external design. The church that is
confused by many turrets and gables, porches, irregular roofs,
and varied towers, is not only bad in itself, but less effective in
urban surroundings than would be the case, were its masses
bold, simple, and powerful. There is a good deal of real Greek
feeling in an old Gothic church ; and beneath all its richness of
detail and splendor of sculptured ornament there is a great,
solid foundation mass that is instinct with power and command.

CHURCH BUILDING

It is this that tells in the case of a church designed to stand in
a great city, and only such a church is able to assume its just
position of supremacy.

The church illustrated in Figure LI. was conceived in the
right spirit. It was given the height and the simplicity of mass
that were necessary ; but most unfortunately it was built after an

LII. A MISSION CHURCH.

evil fashion, falsely and unpardonably, with a frame of steel like
an ofifice building, supporting the sheathing stone that was
worked into the forms of honest construction. It is therefore
an example of all that should be avoided, when it might quite
well have been a marvel of ecclesiastical beauty and holiness,
had it but been a piece of self-respecting and honorable con-
struction.

I have spoken of this point before, the prime necessity of

THE CITY CHURCH

rigid honesty in church-building, where any wilful falsity ap-
proaches the point of sacrilege ; but it cannot be dwelt upon
too strenuously in this age of expedients. False construction
is simply a lie told for reasons of penury or ostentation.

There has been altosrether too much of this sort of thintr of
late. Imitation stone and mosaic, make-believe chimes, imita-
tion marble, and even stained glass, all the tricks of trade are
quite bad enough in civil and domestic affairs; but, when they
enter into the question of church-building and ornamentation,
they become unpardonable.

We may study the monuments of tne great past until we
are surfeited with erudition. We may measure and sketch and
photograph the work of the Middle Ages until we could almost
reconstruct any given monument. We may try to build with
archceological exactness, and in this we may succeed; but we
may as well understand at once that, until we realize that beauty
of whatever kind in any church is put there to the glory of God
and not to the admiration of the passers-by, we may study and
labor in vain.

If a church is not honest, — honest in its design, its con-
struction, its decoration, — it is nothing; and any added rich-
ness, if it is the richness of falsity, is only an added shame.

And not only must a church be honorable in its construc-
tion, it must also be good in design. This sounds like a truism,
but it is not ; for, when they are carefully considered, it will be
easily seen that the vast majority of contemporary churches are
exactly the reverse. I do not speak now of the question of
style, which I shall consider when we come to the supreme
glory of religious architecture, the cathedral, but of essential
rightness in whatever fashion may be chosen. For there is a
right and a wrong in every style, and the wrong is without ex-
cuse so long as there are those who can do the right. Consider

LIII. TRINITY CHURCH, NEW YORK CITY,

THE CITY CHURCH

for a moment Figure L. Now it would not be fair to say that the
wrong is always of the violent type exhibited here, but it often
approaches it ; and, after all, when a thing is once bad, it matters
little what degree of badness it may have achieved. The ques-
tion of right and wrong is not a matter of taste. The fact that
the majority of a building committee or the reputation of a
given architect testifies to the excellence of his designs has
nothing whatever to do with the case. There are certain fun-
damental laws of planning, composition, proportion, construc-
tion, and design, that are as old as the art of architecture itself:
they are to be found equally in the Greek temple, the Byzantine
basilica, the Gothic cathedral. These laws are, and by them ar-
chitecture must be tested. If it falls short, it is without excuse.
If, like Figure L., it violates every one of these laws, and if in
addition — and again like Figure L. — it is without a glimmer
of vitality, of nationality, then it is an insult to God. For it is
not enouorh that the construction should be honest and of the
best. It is necessary that the art that makes the thing living
should be of the best also. "The best" — that is inadequate
enough ; but it is the least we can give to the glory of God and
the honor of the Church, and, if we fail of this, then we fail, in-
deed.

Good architecture, perfect art, are not matters of pride : they
are not desirable because they flatter the feelings of a certain
congregation, but because they show a right impelling spirit,
because they are indeed " the outward and visible sign of an
inward and spiritual grace " in that congregation, and because
in their perfection they are the least unworthy of the material
treasures of this life that may be offered in the worship of God.

THE CHANCEL AND ITS
FITTINGS

We have now considered the church in its various estates,
from the country chapel, through the village church to that of
the modern city. Before passing to the crowning fabric of
Christian civilization, the cathedral, let us take up a little more
in detail certain elements that go to the making of a typical
church, such, for example, as the chancel and its furniture, the
altar and its various appointments in the shape of vestments
and sacred vessels, stained glass and decoration, and the other
details that must in themselves be right if the church is to be
worthy of its ancestry and of its object ; and, first of all, let us
consider the sanctuary and chancel, both in point of arrange-
ment and in regard to the different fittings that must be pro-
vided, leaving the chief object, the excuse and reason for the
church itself, — the altar, — for a special chapter.

I need hardly say that the chancel and sanctuary are not
only the most sacred portions of a building consecrated to the
service of God, but also almost the church, the nave being but
an adjunct of more or less size provided for the shelter and the
convenience of worshippers. The altar is the nucleus, the
heart of the whole matter, the sanctuary the space provided for
the priests who minister at the altar, the chancel the shelter of
those " ministers," whether clergy or choristers, who aid in sur-
rounding the altar service with due solemnity and splendor,
the nave the area set apart for those for whom the service is
offered. Thus there is a steady progression in sanctity from
the porch to the altar-stone, and this progression should be ex-
pressed in the fabric and the enrichment of the church. The

CHURCH BUILDING

nave may, as I have said, be plain and formal, variety is not de-
sirable and lavish decoration out of place, but with the choir

LV. CHANCEL OF ALL SAINTS', DORCHESTER, MASS.

screen there is a change; and both from the standpoint of rev-
erence and from that of artistic composition it is imperative
that, to borrow a musical term, the crescendo that culminates
in the climax of the altar itself should begin here.

Cope & Stewardson, Architects.
LIV. CHOIR SCREEN, ST. LUKE'S, GERMANTOWN, PENN.

CHANCEL AND ITS FITTINGS

It is not necessary that there should be an arch separating
the chancel from the nave, it is not even necessary that there
should be a choir screen, — either or both of these features are
good if properly used: it is simply a question of design, and
here the architect's word should be the deciding power. Where
a church is long, narrow, and high, an arch gives a noble ef-
fect, and the same is true of the rood- or choir-screen. In many
cases, however, a low parapet with a big rood-beam above, as in
Figure LV., is better than the screen. Where the latter feature
is used, it may be made extraordinarily beautiful, as in Figure
LIV., which is from a church in Germantown and is one of the
best pieces of ecclesiastical wood-carving in America. It should,
however, always be of wood. At least this should be so unless
we can learn from some of the old screens in Spain how to use
metal for this purpose. As matters stand now, the trade screen
of brass or iron is abhorrent and hardly to be endured.

The rood-beam, particularly if it supports a carven Calvary
or a painted icon of the Crucifixion, is capable of being made
singularly effective ; and it is altogether too little used. In cer-
tain old churches this beam became a rood-loft, often of amaz-
ing richness; but it is hard to see any particular justification for
this feature now, and its charm is often that of its antiquity
alone. In Figure LVI. both loft and beam are used with fine
effect. Figure LVI I. is a fine example of the best type of rood-
screen, though for some unaccountable reason the Corpus is
lacking from the cross. Figure LVI 1 1, shows a splendid old
loft from which the Calvary has been removed.

Of the furniture connected with the chancel, yet generally
just outside its limits, the pulpit, lectern, and litany desk are the
most important. What I have said of the screen is true in a
large measure both of the pulpit and lectern ; that is, that they
are best if made of wood. Not that metal is out of the ques-

LVI. ST. AGNES'S, KENNINGTON, LONDON.

CHANCEL AND ITS FITTINGS

tion. In ancient times it was well employed, and stone also ; but
nowadays the temptation of lacquered brass is too much for us,
and the results are unfortunate. If anywhere there should be
solidity and a certain grave dignity in a pulpit; and, where this
structure is wrought of filigree brass or iron, the effect is fatal.
The same is true in a large degree of the lectern. There is no
possible reason why it should be in the form of an eagle ; and
there is every reason why, if an eagle is used, it should be as
conventional as possible. The realistic bird with natural feath-
ers is, of course, bad art. In Figure LIX. I have shown a very
beautiful eagle lectern of modern English make, and in Figure
LX. another design, wrought out on older lines. The trian-
gular lecterns, such as we find all over Europe, are not only
convenient, but uniquely beautiful ; and we can only hope that
their use may be restored.

When the pulpit stands on the Gospel side of the church,
as should always be the case, the lectern is usually placed in a
corresponding position on the Epistle side ; but a usage that is
now being restored is the placing of the lectern in the middle
of the space between the rows of choir stalls and directly in
front of the altar, though it is, of course, much lower, since it
stands on the lowest choir level. In many ways this position is
more convenient and dignified than any other.

Viewed solely from the standpoint of the architect, the lec-
tern is, next to the altar itself, the best subject for design that
the Church offers; and, now that the curious mania for eagle
lecterns is dying away, there is a chance to make these beauti-
ful objects what their general lines and the requisites of their
function make possible: there is no limit to the conceivable
variations of design and material.

The litany desk has acquired a certain novel importance of
late that hardly seems reasonable. As it is used only now and

LVII. CHOIR SCREEN, NEWCASTLE CATHEDRAL.

CHANCEL AND ITS FITTINGS

then, it should be brought out only when needed, instead of
standing, as sometimes happens, a stumbling-block at the head
of the centre aisle in season and out of season. The nature of
its service demands, of course, the plainest and most austere de-
sign. Indeed, a simple faldstool is about the best thing that can
be used.

Entering the chancel, let us now consider its general dispo-
sition. First of all, let me argue for space, for generosity of
treatment. Crowding is quite out of the question. Here we
must have ample room : even if the church is small, the chancel
must be big and dignified. (See Figure LXI.) There must
be ample space between the front rows of choir stalls, — eight
feet at the very least, and as much more as possible. Except
in very large churches the nave and choir cannot be over
twenty-eight or, at the most, thirty-two feet wide between piers ;
and, where three rows of stalls on each side are necessary, this
only leaves from ten to fourteen feet for the open space.
Where length is possible, it is better to have only two rows of
stalls on each side ; for, the deeper the chancel, the better it is
in every way.

Each row of stalls should be lifted one or two steps above
the row in front, these steps being carried across the choir be-
yond the seats. The rear row of stalls should, if possible, be
divided into separate seats and covered by traceried canopies,
those nearest the choir parapet on each side being distin-
guished from the others by greater richness of treatment.
Where there are three rows of stalls to a side, the rear rows are
properly clergy stalls, the two at the west being, of course, for
the rector and curate.

Picturesque and alluring to the architect as is the old
scheme of returned stalls,— that is, stalls facing the altar
against the screen, — there seems scant justification for the

CHURCH BUILDING

mode, except perhaps in cathedrals, so it is hardly to be com-
mended.

For the decorative treatment of clergy and choir stalls there
is no lack of good models in England and on the Continent.
In the canopies of the former, cost is the only limit of richness.

LVIII. SCREEN AT BRODNINCH, DEVON.

Fretted and wrought into intricate design of leafage and tracery,
they may become lasting memorials of faithful and loving
craftsmanship, and every detail of enrichment adds to their
value as an evidence of devotion, — at least, this should be so,
for it was in the wonderful past ; but nowadays, when crafts-
manship has yielded to trade, it is hard to find the artist in
carving who puts Jii^nself into his work with love for his labor
and for the object of that labor. Still, such men exist, fortu-

CHANCEL AND ITS FITTINGS

nately ; and their work is priceless in its value. I am glad to
write the name of one of them, — I. Kirchmeyer, who carved the
"poppy heads " of the stalls shown in Figure LXIL, each one
of which terminates in a little figure hardly six inches high, of
the various ministers of the church, from the acolyte, thurifer
and chorister to the deacon, priest, and bishop.

Beyond the choir seats there will be at least three steps to
the kneeling space in front of the communion rail. Where
space and funds permit, there may well be more. In a large
church, the higher the altar is raised above the floor of the
church, the more visible and dignified it will be. Five steps
give a good elevation. Then, with one at the communion rail
and three to the foot pace of the altar, you will have about the
least elevation that will be dignified and well proportioned.

The communion rail is likely to be a difficult question.
Fortunately, the old days, when lacquered brass, wrought iron,
and even cut glass and encaustic tiles were considered fit
materials, has passed away ; but still the rail is likely to remain
a rail or balustrade still, and this is seldom dignified. Perhaps
the best form is that of a prie-dieu, a movable kneeling-bench
with sloping top and richly wrought ends. This may be either
open or solid, and may include gates that may be closed
after the entrance into the sanctuary of the priests and
acolytes.

After the altar and reredos the important features of the
sanctuary are the sedilia for the bishop and the priests, and
the credence. The bishop's chair is always on the Gospel
side : the sedilia for the priests are on the Epistle side, where
is also the credence. A bishop has his throne only in his own
cathedral. In a parish church, while it is right that there
should be special sedilia for the bishop and his attendant chap-
lain and cross-bearer, or acolytes, it is, nevertheless, well to bear

254976

CHURCH BUILDING

in mind that this is in no sense a throne, and should not be
treated as such. Yet it should be distinguished by the episco-
pal insignia of the mitre, the crossed keys, the crosier, etc., and,
where possible, should be covered by a canopy of rich carving.
The sedile should be divided in three, either by a chair and

LIX. A MODERN ENGLISH LECTERN.

two flanking-stools placed in a canopied recess, or, like the
priests' sedilia, by arms and vertical screens. A faldstool or
kneeling-bench is placed in front of the bishop only. (See
Figure LXIII.) The priests' sedile is also divided in three,
for the priest, deacon, and sub-deacon. It should be similar to
that of the bishop, but less elaborate ; and it is always desirable
that the seats should stop some four inches short of the wall to
allow space for vestments. (See Figure LXIV.)

CHANCEL AND ITS FITTINGS

The credence should be sufficiently large to take all the
altar vessels, cruets, etc., and also the two candles, if this should
happen to be the usage of the church. It is decidedly more

LX. LECTERN IN ALL SAINTS', DORCHESTER, MASS.

convenient on the south wall of the sanctuary than on the east
wall ; but, as the former is also the location of the priests' sedilia,
it is often hard to obtain a sufficient depth to allow of this, and
perforce the east wall is chosen. As good an architectural
treatment as there is, is that of the canopied niche, the lines

CHURCH BUILDING

being similar to those of the sediha. (See Figure LXV.)
Where it is possible to carry the lines of the reredos around

J. D. Sedding, Architect.
LXI. HOLY TRINITY CHURCH, LONDON.

on either side, including the credence, bishop's and priests'
sedilia, and connecting with the organ case and canopied
stalls, the whole being tied together in front by the rood-
screen, the effect is both rich and reserved, full of dignity and

CHANCEL AND ITS FITTINGS

architectural quality. Where this is done, the windows come
of course above the line of woodwork, the cresting of the latter
reaching just to the window-sills.

In the decoration of the chancel there is the widest range

LXn. CHOIR STALLS, MIDDLEBOROUGH, MASS.

of possibilities. Carved and traceried stone with little statues
in their fretted niches, richly wrought woodwork, stamped and
gilded leather, tapestries, wall paintings, — if they are good, —
all may be used to create a composition of the utmost richness.
When to this are added the light from painted windows, the
flicker of burnished brass in the shape of candlesticks and

103

CHURCH BUILDING

hanging lamps, and, above all, the crowning glory of the altar
and reredos, an architectural composition is obtained that is
unique in its potentialities.

Yet the chance for solemn effects is often most recklessly
thrown away. I do not need to describe the commoner sort of
chancel : we all know it, with its lacquered brass and futile carv-
ing, its cheap tile-work and cheaper frescoing. For this sort of
thincr architects and decorators are more to blame than any
others. The desire for the right thing exists, but too often
only to be betrayed. As church architecture is precisely the
noblest form of the art and the one least to be mastered by
any system of contemporary instruction, so it is the one least
studied and least considered. Architects and decorators and
" Ecclesiastical Art Furnishers " offer their wares with serene
self-satisfaction, quite ignorant of their own ignorance, and
potent to play upon the credulity of church authorities who de-
sire only what is good. Until a few years ago there were in
this country only one or two architects who could really design
a true church, and no men whatever who could furnish good
decoration, whether in the shape of glass, metal work, carving
or embroidery. This condition has changed, but, unfortunately,
the inadequate men still continue to offer their services and
their products ; and church authorities, naturally ignorant of the
merits of various men and the things they produce, are lured
into accepting bad art when really they want only what is
good. Fortunately, the Church has largely escaped the
blandishments of those quacks who print showy books of
(happily) impossible structures, the alleged "architects" who
are unknown in the profession and who inflict strange horrors
on the unwary denominations ; but it is a question if the more
august corporations and the more eminent architects who pos-
sess intelligence that is misdirected, and compel popular

104

LXIII. BISHOP'S SEDILIA, ALL SAINTS', DORCHESTER.

CHURCH BUILDING

admiration through the gorgeousness of their products, are not
really more dangerous. Blatant ignorance deceives only the
ignorant, but a great name and glittering splendor may easily
deceive the very elect.

After all, there is but one test, — the test of what has been;

LXIV. PRIESTS' SEDILIA, ALL SAINTS', DORCHESTER.

and this must always be applied to modern church work, in
order that we may know if it is good.

In Figures LXVI. and LXVIL, I have shown plans of
chancels arranged in accordance with precedent and the de-
mands of convenience. In All Saints' the dimensions, particu-
larly of the sanctuary, are somewhat restricted ; but nowadays
this is likely to be almost unavoidable. Some day we shall realize
that the choir and sanctuary do not fulfil all their requirements
if they are just large enough to pass — and no more; that the

io6

CHANCEL AND ITS FITTINGS

nave must be the first consideration, the chancel but an ad-
junct. The choir I refer to was not built after this fashion,

LXV. CREDENCE, ALL SAINTS' CHURCH, DORCHESTER.

but rather with a perfectly clear idea of its primacy. Still, it
could well have been made a little deeper, and would have been
so, had the architects realized the importance of the church
they were building. Figure LXVII. is the typical or, rather,

107

LXVI. CHANCEL OF ALL SAINTS', DORCHESTER, MASS.

LXVH. A TYPICAL PLAN.

CHANCEL AND ITS FITTINGS

ideal chancel, with plenty of space, adequate elevation, and
ample sanctuary. This is the type to which all chancels should
approach as nearly as the conditions will permit.

When it was held that one priest in the service of the altar
was all that could be required, the cramped old chancels were
adequate perhaps from the standpoint of economy and practi-
cability ; but, now that the altar service is almost universally
surrounded with the dignity and solemnity established as the
reverent usage by centuries of Christian life, these no longer
serve, and a shallow niche is barred forever, in its place coming
the wide and spacious chancel, the many sequent steps, and
the sanctuary, where ample room is provided for a grave and
solemn ritual.

109

CHAPELS, BAPTISTERIES,
AND SACRISTIES

Closely connected with the church proper, and forming a
part of its fabric, aiding also in making up the total of the dom-
inant idea, are the various features to a consideration of which
this chapter is devoted. A church is not solely the altar in its
sanctuary, with the choir or presbytery adjoining, and beyond
the shelter for the congregation of worshippers. It is the whole
wonderful composition and combination of parts that together
make up what is really the most perfect architectural fabric
thus far evolved by man. In the baptistery we find the porch of
the temple of God, through which all men must pass. In the
chapels we find the outward sign of the honoring of certain of
the saints, not for themselves, but for the showing of God in
them. In ancient times we had also the record of the piety and
devotion of men who showed in this wise their gratitude for
mercies and blessings. In the sacristies we have rooms which
in themselves are not secular apartments, but tinged with the
sanctity of the sanctuary, — a fact too often carelessly overlooked.
All of these integral parts of the church must receive study and
consideration equal to that given to the church itself. Let us
consider them one by one.

It is difficult to reconcile one's self to the process of change
that has reduced the baptistery, once a thing of honor and
dignity, a structure that showed through its very solemnity and
importance the greatness of the sacrament to which it was con-
secrated, to an insignificant font hidden in an aisle, crowded
against the wall, or, in violation of all right sentiment and just
teaching, intruded into the very chancel itself. Surely, the bap-

CHURCH BUILDING

tistery should possess that architectural importance that its
functions argue, and so give to the font the eminence it de-

C. A Nicholbun, AilIhillI
LXVIII. FONT, COCKINGTON CHURCH, DEVON.

mands. Formerly the baptistery was a building apart, second
in importance only to the church ; and its lesson was clearly
read. Where this cannot be now, we can at least isolate the
font in its own area, and so desiorn its architectural surround-
ings as to give it its due eminence.

W. R. Lethaby, Architect.
LXIX. NEW FONT AND CANOPY, BENTHAM CHURCH, YORKSHIRE.

CHURCH BUILDING

As I have said before, the ancient position of the baptistery-
was either before the church or at its very entrance, so symbol-
izing its function as the point of the beginning of the Christian
Hfe. The symbol is precious, but it is not of supreme value.
Convenience and modern usage may seem to demand a posi-
tion nearer the chancel, and there is no good reason why this
should not obtain. In Figure LXX. it is shown on one side of
the choir, the morning chaj^el being in a corresponding position

LXX. ARRANGEMENT OF BAPTISTERY AND SACRISTIES.

on the other side ; and this is a very convenient position, near the
sacristies, and easy of access from the parish building. The
font is so placed as to give it prominence and dignity. Behind
may very well be a niche with a statue of Saint John the Bap-
tist. In Figure LXX VI. it forms part of the side chapel.
This, also, is a good position, both from a practical and an
architectural standpoint.

The font, like the altar, should be of stone ; for this is solid
and everlasting. In shape it may vary widely, and also in size,
though it should always bear a certain relation to the size of
the church. The drain must, of course, communicate directly

114

?fopo3fc)7oiilanbQoi)er
ChutdioJOurBailiour

LXXI.

CHURCH BUILDING

with the earth, never, under any circumstances, with the system
of sewerage. A cover is imperative ; and this must always be
fixed firmly in place, except when the font is in use. I have
seen fonts filled with flowers upon occasion, and there should
be no opportunity for this unconscious irreverence. In the
design of the font cover there is an opportunity for almost un-
limited richness. Where this cover can be suspended from the
roof and raised and lowered by counterweights, perhaps the
best results may be obtained. In Figures LXVIIL, LXIX.,
and LXXI. are shown various types of fonts, with their covers.
Figure LXXI, is of the traditional type, an elaborate, spire-like
fabric rising to a great height. Figure LXIX. is slightly
varied from old modes, and is a good example of the vital and
original design that characterizes the new school of industrial
art in England. Figure LXVIIL is still more original: too
much so, perhaps, since it has a certain suggestion of the old
well-curb.

As I have said before, baptisteries and chapels are of the
utmost service architecturally in breaking up the contours, in
developing the shadows, in gaining the effect of mystery that is
so necessary to any good architectural scheme; and it is quite
wrong to disregard them. Of course, their chief justification is
essentially religious ; but in addition to this is the architectural
reason, and this w^e cannot afford to ignore. A good church
from an artistic standpoint is composed of sanctuary, choir, and
nave of the utmost simplicity of design, gravity of massing, re-
finement of proportion, classicism of composition, and, beyond
this, of bounding walls, following varied lines, giving space, dis-
tance, variety, mystery. The central portion must be full of a
clear, diffused light, dying away in shadow above ; but beyond
the nave arcades should be infinite variety of light and color,
and this we obtain by the use of baptisteries, chapels, and
aisles.

ii6

CHAPELS, BAPTISTERIES, ETC

Hardly any church is built nowadays that has not at least
one chapel ; and, from an architectural standpoint, the more
there are of these, the better. In Figure LXXII. I have shown
the plan of a very perfect little English church, where the ar-

LXXII. CHURCH <3F THE HOLY ROOD, WATFORD, HERTS.

rangement of chapels, and of the baptistery as well, is about as
perfect as may be. These chapels are so arranged that, wher-
ever one may look, one sees little altars subordinate, but all
leading up to the high altar itself.

Where there is only one chapel, it will be used largely for
daily services, therefore it should be easy of access. The size

117

CHURCH BUILDING

is, of course, dependent on the particular needs of the parish ;
but it should be so placed that all the seats may be available
when the service is at the high altar. In the transitional
period between the barren days when the church was securely
locked from Sunday night until Sunday morning, and the
present time, when it is usually open daily from sunrise until
sunset, the chapel that could be shut off from the rest of the
church, thus effecting an economy in the heating, was tempo-
rarily useful ; but this consideration seems to have passed. At
all events, it is passing rapidly; and so it is seldom necessary to
provide a chapel that may be isolated upon occasion. When it
is demanded, curtains are usually sufficient. Sliding or rolling
doors, nine times out of ten, are an offence and destructive of all
religious feeling.

Of course, the sanctuary of a chapel need be of no great
size ; and the altar also will bear its due proportion to the chapel
itself. The credence should be as near the altar as possible,
since the priest may frequently be without a server. For the
same reason, many steps to the foot-pace are undesirable and
unnecessary. Two stalls only are requisite, one on either side
of the chancel. If possible, they should be outside the com-
munion rail, as should the lectern as well.

Of course, the small size of a chapel makes possible much
finer detail in the ornamentation, much greater richness and
elaboration ; but everything must be subordinated to the whole
church, forming a part of its unity. The same is true of its ex-
terior. One of the most delightful qualities of the mediaeval
churches is the frankness with which rich little chapels are built
on wherever they are wanted, differing in scale and detail from
the original fabric, yet harmonizing perfectly in the final effect.
(See Figure LXXV.)

If the cobbler should stick to his last, so should the architect

ii8

LXXIII. 1 ADV CHAPEL, ST. ^'AKTl-\ .-, iMAKPLK.

CHURCH BUILDING

be careful not to go beyond the limits of his own province ; but
he may surely express the hope that, for the sake of the art he
follows, there may be a return to the clustering chapels that go
so far toward giving a church richness of composition and
splendor of effect. In the dedications there is a great oppor-
tunity for individuality; and, as a result, each church takes on a
certain personality that differentiates it without separation.

In Figure LXXVI. I have shown such a chapel as would
be appropriate for daily services where only one altar is required
in addition to the high altar. The baptistery is arranged in
connection with it, and forms the westernmost bay. As will
be noticed, it is conveniently placed with reference to the side
porch, and may be entirely separated from the chapel or used
in connection with it.

One mistake that is frequently made in the building of
churches is that of failing to provide adequate sacristy accom-
modations. Even in large churches we frequently find only
a priest's sacristy and a choir vestry. This is quite inadequate.
A working sacristy is imperative. The priest's sacristy should
be neither an anteroom nor a study : it is for the vesting of
the clergy, and for this only. The choir vestry should be used
as such alone. An altar — or working — sacristy is absolutely
necessary. This is the room for the altar guild, if there is one,
and for the acolytes, if the usage of the church calls for them. It
is also for the sacristan. Indeed, it is a kind of central office of
administration ; and without it a church is seriously hampered.
Here the flowers are prepared for the altar, the altar vestments
stored and made ready for use, altar ornaments cleaned and
taken care of. This room may also be used for vestry meetings
and by the wardens. A large chest or case in the centre will
hold frontals and superfrontals. There should be a sink and
tables for the preparing of flowers, cases or racks for banners

LXXIV. NEW ALTAR, ST. MARY'S. CHADDEj,DEN, DERRV.

CHURCH BUILDING

and processional crosses, storage for candles and incense, — if
they are used, — presses for the vestments of the acolytes, a
brazier for kindling charcoal, a large safe or vault for the stor-
ing of the more valuable ornaments, the books of the parish,
etc.; indeed, provision for the thousand and one things that go
toward making up the modern service in its richest form. If
possible, the working sacristy should be located between the
priest's and the choir sacristy, and it should be so placed as to
give immediate access to the chancel. In Figure LXX. I have
shown a convenient grouping of sacristies ; but there are, of
course, many variants, the arrangement being dependent on the
special parish under consideration.

It may seem that I am assuming a good deal in speaking so
assuredly of matters which are as yet by no means common in
this country and are only to be found in the few churches where
an elaborate ritual is employed, but I am only laying down the
most complete scheme that might ever be required. Usage
must govern the requirements, and I am concerned only in
endeavoring to cover all possible demands. There are few
churches, I fancy, where flowers and simple vestments are not
used in the service of the altar ; and, wherever this is true, a
working sacristy is quite as necessary as where a richer ritual
is concerned.

The choir sacristy is a comparatively simple matter and
needs no description. The priest s sacristy is quite another
thing, and demands much thought. Of course, where the sim-
plest ritual is observed, its requirements are comparatively
slight ; but there are certain things usually demanded, such, for
example, as wardrobes for cassocks and surplices, cases for
stoles and altar linen, a safe for the storage of the sacred ves-
sels. As the elaborateness of the ritual rises, the demands in-
crease until there must be semicircular cope-cases turning on a

CHAPELS, BAPTISTERIES, ETC

central pivot, flat, shallow drawers in great numbers for chasu-
bles, dalmatics, and tunicles, smaller drawers for albs, girdles and
maniples. Where all these are necessary, the vestment case
may best be arranged with the turning cope-case below, and

LXXV. GREENA WAY'S CHAPEL, TIVERTON CHURCH.

above sliding shelves for chasubles in the middle, with banks of
drawers of various sizes on either side. A piscina is most de-
sirable, with its drain, of course, connecting with the soil below
the church ; and 2. prie-Dicti is imperative. In the centre of the
room should be a large table, where vestments may be laid out
in preparation for the service.

1^3

CHURCH BUILDING

In Figure LXX. is a good type of sacristy, with its various
furnishings arranged as experience has shown desirable.

The priest's sacristy is not a study, neither is it an office.
It has its own proper function, and this should be shown in its
design and decoration. Domesticity and cosiness are out of

LXXVI. ARRANGEMENT OF CHAPEL AND BAPTISTERY.

the question. The solemnity of the sanctuary pervades it, and
in every way this quality should be shown in the treatment.

We have outgrown the curious fancy for looking on a
church as simply an auditorium, with a prominent pulpit and a
retiring " communion table." While this fancy held, it was ap-
propriate enough, perhaps, to build a preaching hall; but, now
that we are arriving at a more just way of looking at things, we

124

CHAPELS, BAPTISTERIES, ETC.

are beginning to realize that a church is not a simple problem at
all, but instead a thing of the utmost complexity. As I have
said before, it should be composed almost like a piece of music.
Aisles, ambulatories, chapels, baptisteries, oratories, and even
shrines and chantries, all unite to the making of the perfect
whole.

I have in mind one church recently completed at great ex-
pense. There was a possibility for all the chapels and accesso-
ries that any architect could ask, yet the idea of a church as a
living thing was utterly forgotten. Not only was the construc-
tion of this particular church such as cannot be admitted in
religious architecture, but all the chapels that might have been
an integral part of a completed whole, adding to it and enhanc-
ing its splendor and vitality, were treated in the most casual
and accidental fashion. They bear no relation to the church
proper, and are without architectural or artistic value of any
kind whatever. We cannot afford to make mistakes of this
kind.

The problem of church designing is unlike any other that
comes before the architect, or rather, perhaps, the difference is
in degree. However much it may be necessary for us to con-
sider our architectural problems as studies in united and organ-
ized design, it is quite true that in the matter of church build-
ing this living quality is supremely dominant. A church is
organic ; and every line, every mass, every detail, must be care-
fully considered and perfectly adapted to its ends, forming an
essential part of a great and living whole. A church viewed
from its architectural standpoint is less a problem of design
than a question of what might almost be called creation.

125

DECORATION AND STAINED

GLASS

Both of these matters are simply problems in design : they
fall within the province of the architect, and by him should be
determined, precisely as he decides questions of proportion and
composition ; yet they form so important a category, they fall
so naturally int-o one class, and they are both such fruitful
sources of error, that they seem to demand special considera-
tion.

Here in America they have acquired an importance quite
out of proportion to their deserts. At least, this is true of deco-
ration, owing to the fact that we are surrounded by churches
built, not as those of the Middle Ages, of masonry that is in
itself sufficiently decorative, but of materials that have no value
in themselves, that are inexpensive, and that simply demand
some form of superficial ornamentation. Practically, all of our
churches, old or new, are covered with plaster as to their inte-
riors. This is put on in broad masses, and great walls unbroken
by mouldings or panel work or carving clamor for some treat-
ment that may give them a degree of beauty. Owing to the
disorders and the anarchy of the period of the Reformation
and that of the various social and political revolutions that fol-
lowed from it, nearly every trace of the original color decora-
tion of Christian churches — particularly in those countries
where Gothic had reached a high degree of development — has
been swept away, and only misleading vestiges remain. With
the first awakening of the artistic sense some twenty-five years
ago, recourse was had to these fragments for suggestions as to
the right course to pursue ; and very disastrous were the results.

127

CHURCH BUILDING

It is doubtful even if the original thing ever had much value ;
for, apart from glass-work, the mediaeval craftsmen seemed to
possess little skill in the use of color, and we have to go back
several centuries and seek those countries where Oriental influ-
ence asserts itself to find really great color decoration. But, if
Gothic color ornamentation was inferior, it was at least better
than the modern imitation, which was really just about as bad
as could be. At least, it seemed so until something worse took
its place. This was the new and presently popular school of
Dutch metal and glass beads, Mexican onyx, flashy mosaics,
and lacquered brass. For several years this " bar-room " school
of decoration ran riot, and the results were utterly lamentable.
In Fisure LXXXI. is shown an interior of a church that has
been ruined by this wave of barbarism, and it is a good example
of the disaster that has overtaken scores of once tolerably good
churches.

Of course, photographs are almost useless in dealing with
this question, for they cannot suggest color, and the color is
the most grievous offence ; but they can at least show the hope-
less triviality of form, the desecration of good lines, the tawdri-
ness, and the vulgarity. In this particular case there was a
good foundation, — a simple, finely conceived interior designed
by a reserved and conscientious architect. The lines were
strong, clean, and graceful, the whole effect grave and self-re-
specting. Yet the ruthless " decorators," men of fame and po-
sition and pretending to authority, went through the thing like
a pestilence, and by their absurd fretwork hung on the vaulting,
their color, and their frivolous tracery, — above all, by their win-
dows, which violate every law of the art of stained glass, — have
metamorphosed a noble church into a cheap auditorium.

This example serves to show the most deadly error that is
threatening to-day in the line of decoration, and the one that is

128

i«c:. -->. ■_.-.\'. A a.r^O
TfLDEN FOUNDATiONS

DECORATION AND STAINED GLASS

most dangerous, since it comes with a certain claim to author-
ity, and, being often an unintelligent imitation of Oriental
models, has just that gorgeousness that appeals to the unedu-
cated.

In Figures LXXIX. and LXXX. are examples of really
noble decoration, and the contrast between these and the horri-
ble modern imitations, evident enough in photographs, is incal-
culably more startling in actual fact ; for the rank and crude
combinations of savage color and cheap gilding of the modern
school become in the originals wonderful harmonies that satisfy
absolutely.

Perhaps the Capella Palatina (Figure LXXIX.) is the most
perfect example of judicious yet magnificent decoration in the
world, though in Japan there are temple interiors, particularly
that of Chion-in in Kyoto, that press it close. It is jewel
work pure and simple ; gold and colored mosaic, alabaster, por-
phyry, opus Alexandrinum and Arabian inlay of nacre and
glass mosaic ; yet so splendidly is the whole thing composed
and tied together, so complete is the reserve in the use of gor-
geous materials, that there is no effect of undue richness, not
even of ostentation. The result is a great glow of solemn
color; and one reverences because one realizes that this is
wealth lavished to the glory of God, not to the glorification of
men.

The great trouble with modern imitations of this Byzantine
and Arabian work is its cheapness. It is an attempt to get
effects without paying for them. To copy the decorations of
the Capella Palatina to-day would cost hundreds of thousands
of dollars, yet plausible tradesmen endeavor to get the optical
effect at a tithe of the cost ; and the result is — what only it
could be — a theatrical and tawdry imitation, irreligious and
unworthy.

131

CHURCH BUILDING

But this Byzantine splendor of materials is not necessary.
In Figure LXXVIII. is a view of one of the best examples of
mediaeval color decoration that has been preserved to us. This
is all pure color, even without gilding; yet the harmony of tone
is very wonderful. If we to-day could obtain such results, if
we felt color as did Cimabue and Giotto and the subsequent
painters down to the time of Tintoretto, it would be safe for us
to deal with pigments as they did ; but the simple fact is that
we do not, and the chances are ten to one that, were we to try
to decorate a church after the fashion of this at Assisi, we
should fail utterly. We have not the color instinct, and there
is the end of it: therefore, the less we try to do in the line of
color decoration, the better it will be. Marble we can use,
perhaps, as in Figure LXXXIL, a wonderful piece of decora-
tive composition ; wood-carving also, for we have great carv-
ers in America ; stained glass, for we have only to abandon the
false prophets of the " picture window," and we shall return to
the true school, which is already well established with us.
These things we can do ; but, in frankness, the less we attempt
in the line of decoration of plain surfaces through the use of
pigments, the better it will be for us — at present.

In England things are a little better, owing to the fact that
there is now established in that happy country a logical and
national school of decorative and industrial art. In spite of fre-
quent lapses into frantic sensationalism, there is yet a steady
tendency toward better results ; and, though the best work is in
the line of craftsmanship in metal and wood and needle work,
there is yet a certain amount of fine color decoration, as, for
example, in Figure LXXXIII This is very original and
20od : it is not imitated from mediaeval or earlier models, but it
is thoroughly modern and vital. Yet it is just the sort of thing
that, unless it is just right, is likely to be very bad, indeed;
and it is not for the hands of the tyro.

132

LXXVIII. THE UPPER CHURCH AT ASSIST.

LXXIX, THE CAPELLA PALATINA AT PALERMO.

DECORATION AND STAINED GLASS

In Figure LXXVII. I have shown a reproduction of what is
perhaps the most perfect piece of Enghsh ecclesiastical decora-
tion that has thus far been produced, the great tapestry designed
by Sir Edward Burne-Jones and executed by William Morris,
now hanging in the chapel of Exeter College, Oxford. This most
marvellous work has every quality that an ecclesiastical decora-
tion should possess. It is full of the most perfect religious
feeling, it is medieval in its suggestion ; yet it is in no way an
imitation. It does not pretend to date from the Middle Ages,
it is frankly modern ; but it is the modernism which must char-
acterize all ecclesiastical art, whether it is architecture, painting,
sculpture, or decoration. It is the immutable ideal expressed
through modern methods. It is the type of all work of this
nature. The spirit which vitalizes it is one which must appear
not only in needlework, but in every category of religious art,
architecture equally with the others.

But a Burne-Jones and a William Morris appear but seldom
under our present civilization. To imitate them is to fail. So
the best we can do now is to leave our walls and plain spaces
alone, depending on the architecture for our effects. Broad
and simple masses of low-toned color are self-respecting and
inoffensive, and, above all, safe.

Given a church that architecturally is well composed,
strongly massed, simply designed, with lights and shadows well
distributed, and the demand for color decoration is not one
that is insistent. The sculpture of the reredos, the needlework
of altar vestments, the metal of cross and candlesticks and
sanctuary lamps, the carving of stalls and pulpit and lectern and
organ case, give nearly all the richness, elaboration, and variety
that are necessary, while the blazing glass in the windows fur-
nishes the color that the eye demands.

And it is in this last matter — that is, stained glass — that

135

CHURCH BUILDING

there is the greatest chance for fatal error. For many years we
have been told that here in America we make the finest stained
glass the world has ever known, and we have accepted this dic-
tum blindly and to our own great injury. The statement con-
tains both truth and falsity. So far as the mere making of col-
ored glass is concerned, there is little cause for complaint : we
have produced glass of very wonderful quality and noble color,
leaving out of consideration common " cathedral glass," which
in its American form is pretty thoroughly bad and in no respect
to be compared with that made in England ; but further than
this one can hardly go in safety. The very wonder of our glass
as glass has been our ruin : it has led us hopelessly astray, until
nearly all the windows made by fashionable purveyors have
been definitely wrong viewed as stained glass, ecclesiastical or
otherwise.

The making of stained glass windows is a very noble form
of art ; but it is decorative art, not pictorial. Any art, to be
good, must be based on, even modified by, its own limitations;
it must hold itself rigidly to the qualities of its own medium.
If it tries to escape from these, it becomes unworthy and with-
out value. All decorative art must be decorative : this is a
truism. An easel picture is not primarily decorative, nor yet an
isolated statue, but an ecclesiastical fresco, an altar picture, a
statue in its niche on a church or any other building, is first of
all a piece of decoration ; and it must be conceived and exe-
cuted with a serious regard for its function as a component part
of a great whole. This the modern stained glass manufacturer
refuses to admit, and at the same time he insists on striving to
escape the limitations of his medium. He achieves most won-
derful results that make the unthinking public gape ; and there-
fore he exalts his pride, ignorant of the real fact, which is that
he has failed of his duty at every point.

136

LXXX. THE ARCADE OF MONKEALE.

LXXXI. MISPLACED DECORATION.

DECORATION AND STAINED GLASS

Let me quote the published words of a great firm that
makes a specialty of what it claims to be ecclesiastical glass : —

" The canons governing the mediaevalist are too circum-
scribed. They would not only hinder the expression of modern
artistic aspirations, but also free religious thought. The German
and English workers in glass, who have followed exclusively
mediaeval lines, have found their field of color limited by a
symbolism which is largely fanciful, their forms by a conven-
tionalism which is opposed to the intellectual and artistic ten-
dency of the age. . . . The result is that windows have been
made that far surpass the best ones of the Middle Ages, in
color effects so beautiful that they defy description and rival
the paintings of the greatest artists, in composition and relig-
ious sentiment equal to the best works on canvas."

I think this remarkable statement justifies me in saying that
pride has blinded the eyes of glass-stainers to the real nature of
what they have done. Nothing, to my mind, could express
more exactly all that stained glass is not and should not be.

First of all, then, to enunciate a new doctrine that is yet
old, — since it is the governing law of all that was done in this
line up to the eighteenth century,- — a stained glass window is
simply a piece of colored and translucent decoration, abso-
lutely subordinate to its architectural environment, and simply
a small component of a great artistic whole. It must continue
the structural wall surface perfectly : therefore, it must be flat,
without perspective or modelling. It must be decorative and
conventional in design and color and in no respect naturalistic.
It must never be a hole in a masonry wall, but a portion of that
wall made translucent. It must not assert itself; that is, it
must hold its place without insolence or insistence. It must be
content to be just a means to an end, — no more. In the second
place, it is technically a mosaic of pieces of glass; and this it

139

CHURCH BUILDING

must always remain. Great sheets of glass modelled into folds
of drapery are forever forbidden. The glass must be in com-
paratively small pieces, fastened together by strips of lead of
varying widths ; and this leading must be as carefully studied,
as fully respected, as the glass itself. It is not an expedient, an
unfortunate necessity, to be reduced to the smallest size and
quantity : it is of equal honor, of equal importance, with the
glass. To the glowing colors of the quarries it gives the
strength and vigor they would otherwise lack. The treating
of leads as a misfortune to be minimized and concealed is one
of the worst offences of the modern makers of picture windows,
and vitiates their work permanently. If sensationalism in the
use of modelled and opalescent glass is the killing vice of Amer-
ican work, painted glass is very surely an equally deadly sin in
English work. Both violate every law of good glass-making,
both are widely popular, and both are quite unendurable. For
heavily modelled and plated work there is the excuse of startling
and gorgeous effects ; for painted work, except so far as slight
touches on hands and faces, there is no excuse whatever.

Another unpardonable corruption is the " picture window."
Certain manufacturers — the great majority, in fact — have taken
to copying in glass the works of the old masters ; and the dull
wonder that these triumphs of trickery and bad art have created
has given them a singular vogue. The whole idea is so wrong-
headed, so perverse, so without a possibility of justification, that
it is a waste of time to condemn it in detail. Moreover, ade-
quate space is lacking. It is bad, thoroughly and hopelessly
bad ; and that is all one can say.

Almost equally bad are those picture windows that are not
childish copies of pictures new or old, but try to be original
compositions, designs that are full of perspective and modelling,
and that reach over the whole window opening, regardless of

140

LXXXU. STA. MARIA DEI iMIRACOLL VENICE.

LXXXIH. MODERN ENGLISH DECORATION.

DECORATION AND STAINED GLASS

mullions and tracery. As I have said above, perspective and
modelling have no place in a window ; for it is simply a piece
of translucent decoration, fiat, rigid, and conventional. More-
over, the mullions are the controlling lines. They circumscribe
the decoration absolutely. Beyond their limits a certain sub-
ject cannot pass. If they cut a window opening into narrow
lights two or three feet wide, as in all Gothic work they must,
then the decorative treatment must be calculated for these nar-
row strips ; and beyond these it must not go. The modern and
fashionable design that shows clouds and trees and distant
rivers and mountains, with people wandering about behind a
paling of black mullions, would be grotesque, were it not so
indicative of a certain barbarism, and, therefore, tragic.

With that accurate and sensitive grasp of the basic laws of
decorative art that marked them above all men except the Jap-
anese, the mediaeval glass-workers seized upon the most perfect
treatment of the problem, and held to it for centuries. Single
figures, each filling the space between two mullions, with the
upper portions filled with rich canopy work, is exactly the most
frank and decorative treatment that can be discovered ; and we
can do no better than to adhere to it. Of course, certain sub-
jects adapt themselves to a treatment that ties the window
together into a pictorial whole, while yet the various panels
remain decoratively distinct. The Annunciation for a double
window, and the Resurrection, the Adoration of the Magi, and
the Crucifixion for triple windows. But, wherever this pictorial
suggestion is used, the utmost care must be taken to see that
the work still remains primarily decorative. The figures must
be formal, not naturalistic ; the backgrounds, decorative, not
descriptive ; the canopy work should be the same in all the
openings, to give unity; and the clothing and vestments should
be symbolic.

143

CHURCH BUILDING

This latter point is one which is curiously distorted now-
adays. We seem to have acquired some of the fear of anything
ecclesiastical that hangs over the denominations, and, as well,
a passion for misunderstood realism. Therefore, we demand that
our Lord and His saints should appear draped in perfectly
meaningless folds of clumsy stuff without religious significance,
mystic symbolism, or even historical propriety. Now the law
of ecclesiastical decoration is that everything should be both
decorative and symbolic. Every angel and archangel, every
saint, be he martyr or confessor, every prophet, every king, has
his proper symbolical vestment and his special attributes. Our
Lord Himself, when He is portrayed in glory, is clothed in the
splendor of both the royal and the priestly vestments that show
forth His twofold glory of Priest and King. The impulse that
leads to rebellion against these vestments, these attributes,
because of some fancied association, is not one that needs to be
considered; for even the Christian style of architecture — nay,
even all art itself — falls under the same condemnation.

The mediaeval workers in colored glass discovered prac-
tically all that there was to know in their art. In the clerestory
of Chartres, in the cathedral of Florence, in York minster, to
name only a few of the immortal triumphs of glass-making,
they reached a point beyond which there was no possibility of
further progress. In design, in religious feeling, in decorative
quality and workmanship, in the spacing of the quarries and
the distribution and proportioning of leads, they said the final
word. With all our boasting, we have added nothing to their
work. We cannot even make some of the glass they made.
We can make very wonderful substitutes that have certain
splendid qualities of their own. All we can do is to use this
as they would have used it, following implicitly their principles
and their ideals.

144

LXXXIV. AN ENGLISH FIFTEENTH CENTURY WINDOW.

'^' ''YORK

V :BRARY

ND
ONS

DECORATION AND STAINED GLASS

In Figure LXXXIV. I have shown a reproduction of a very
beautiful fifteenth century window, which I have taken from a
most admirable article on stained glass in the Architccttcral Re-

Reginald Hallward.
LXXXV. DECORATION OF ROOF.

view, written by Mr. Otto Heinigke, of the firm of Heinigke &
Bowen, and in Figure LXXXVI. have shown a modern English
design, which I do not hesitate to call a piece of the most
masterly leading, and as well of stained glass designing that
cannot be criticised in any way.

147

CHURCH BUILDING

It may seem to some that I have devoted an undue amount
of space to the consideration of stained glass, also that I have
been too severe in my condemnation of a school which is widely

Gerald Moira.
LXXXVI. EXAMPLE OF GOOD LEADED GLASS.

popular with us to-day ; but stained glass is inseparable from
Gothic architecture, the two are absolutely united. No matter
how good the church, it may be quite ruined by false glass;
and, on the other hand, glass rightly conceived may do much
toward saving many a structure. For the technical triumphs

148

DECORATION AND STAINED GLASS

of the popular glass-makers I have every admiration, but I have
tried in vain to obtain from some of them designs worked out
after established precedents. I have found myself compelled
to take what they saw fit to give, — that is, " picture windows," —
or go elsewhere. Now in any Gothic church a picture window
is finally impossible. If the famous glass-makers will recog-

LXXXVII NEWCASTLE CATHEDRAL.

nize this fact, and will show their willingness to do work which
will be consistent with the style, religious in spirit, and purely
decorative in treatment, then the architects can ask nothinor
better.

To show the false position the art of glass-staining occupies
nowadays, let me speak of an incredible occurrence I know of.
Certain people who were proposing to give a memorial window,
and who had a liking for the painter Millet, asked a certain

149

CHURCH BUILDING

firm of glass-stainers to make a window representing " The
Sower " ; and, instead of refusing the commission, it was ac-
cepted with alacrity. Now no subject could possibly be chosen
which was less adaptable to stained glass than this particular
picture ; and yet the work was cheerfully undertaken, without
the least regard to the absurdity of the idea. Not only this,
but, at the instigation of the donors, the glass-makers copied
the well-known picture ; and, because the man in whose memory
the window w^as to be erected wore a beard, they showed this
beard on Millet's figure. Could anything be more preposter-
ous and more disheartening.? Yet this is an example of what
is asked for, and what is gotten at this time ; and it shows
how totally false is the attitude of the public and the makers
of glass toward this most noble and exalted form of relig-
ious art.

T50

THE ALTAR

As the altar is the church, as it is the reason for the exist-
ence of the wonderful fabric that has gradually developed into
the most exalted and highly organized of the buildings of men,
so is it from an architectural standpoint the centre, the climax
of the structural church. To it all things are tributary; and
whether you say that the church itself flows from it as from the
centre of life, or that the visible organism develops cell by cell,
until it completes itself in that for which it exists, in that which
is the object of its being, the result is the same. The altar
stands forth as the great dominating energy that controls
and vitalizes all : it is the soul of the marvellous organism
that is as nearly a living thing as anything man is permitted
to create.

In designing a church, this one thing must always be held
in mind. Every line, every mass, every detail, is so conceived
and disposed that it exalts the altar, that leads to it, as any
work of art leads to its just climax. By the lines of arcades,
the curves of arch and vault, the ranged windows, and the
gathering chapels and aisles with their varied lights and
shadows, the eye, and through the eye the mind, and through
the mind the soul, is led onward step by step until it rests on
the altar itself. (See Figure LXXXVII.)

A good church, like any work of good art, is one that is so
delicately organized, so finely differentiated, that it almost lives.
To the simpler forms of building it bears the same relation
that man bears to the lower forms of life ; and, like man, it pos-
sesses that which raises it immeasurably above every other
organism, a soul, and that soul is the altar.

Yet in itself this is but a simple stone of small size, too

CHURCH BUILDING

insignificant in point of mere dimensions to serve as the domi-
nating motive in a great church. Therefore, we surround it
with accessories of great richness, that serve as steps from the
highest elaboration we are able to obtain in the structure of
the church to the centre of all things. From moulded and
carven arches, niches with their statues, and traceried windows
glowing with color, we pass to the intricate fretwork of can-
opied stalls, finely wrought wainscot and walls of tapestry and
gilded leather, until we reach the reredos, the splendid frame-
work of the altar, the ultimate richness of the entire church,
where is concentrated all the ornamentation that our means
afford. Then there is one more step to the altar itself ; and
where a church is treated as a living whole, as a splendid and
perfect organism, everything concentrates in a point of the
most faultless splendor, in altar vestments of intricate needle-
work wrought in colors and gold, in candlesticks of goldsmith's
work, in a jewelled cross, and, finally, and supremely, in that
which is the glowing point where everything centres at last,
the chalice.

The man who, when he thinks of designing a church, does
not halt abashed and ashamed before the tremendous responsi-
bility that confronts him, has not yet learned how to build a
church ; and, when he does understand, it may perhaps happen
that he will meet with a refusal when he asks permission to so
design his work that it may have that organic quality that lives.
Only too often he will find certain rules arbitrarily made for
him which will bring all his labors to naught. Our failure
to achieve good results in church building nowadays is very
largely due to our inability to see that a church is an entity in
itself, that it is even more a thing of immutable law than a
musical composition, that it must be conceived as a whole, and
that it has one central fact that inexorably conditions every-

152

LXXXVIII. REREDOS, ALL SAINTS', DORCHESTER.

LXXXIX. CHANCEL, TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON.

XC. TRINITY CHURCH, NEW YORK.

CHURCH BUILDING

thing else, to which all is subject, by which all is tested; and
that central fact is the altar.

I have in mind one church that is a good example of the
death that overtakes a work of ecclesiastical art when the prin-
ciple of unity, when the idea of climax, of culmination, is
abandoned. The cost was enormous, the richness of decoration
seldom equalled in modern times. The choir and sanctuary
are those of a cathedral, vast and imposing ; and in the midst,
raised on a single step, stands a black walnut table of small
size, innocent of vestments, of candles, of flowers, without a
suggestion of reredos, barren even of the Cross of our Redemp-
tion. The whole design of the church demands a lofty altar
under a towering baldacchino, with marble columns supporting
a marble dome. With this the fabric would live : without it, it
is dead. (See Figure LXXXIX.)

For, when the altar and its reredos are raised in a church,
then the fabric receives the breath of life. I am speaking archi-
tecturally. As an architect, I have no concern with schools of
Churchmanship; but, as an architect, I am privileged to say
that, unless the altar is treated with due regard, unless it has
its proper relation to the rest of the fabric, then every effort to
obtain a church that is a living thing is vain, and worse than
vain.

For, if we consider a church as an organism, we shall realize
that both in dimensions and in degree of richness there is a
certain proportion that must be observed. The height of the
foot-pace must bear a certain relation to the height of the
church, the length of the altar to the width of the sanctuary,
the dimensions of the reredos to the length of the church and
the size of the east wall, the richness of decoration to that
which obtains elsewhere in the church. It is not a question of
ritual : it is a question of art ; and, as a question of art, it is also a

156

XCI. KEKEDOS, MERTOX CHAPKL. OXFORIi

THE ALTAR

question of religion, since art, in the service of the Church, is
simply art as an incentive to religious emotion.

XCII TRIPTYCH, CHURCH AT PENDLEBURY.

Let us consider, a little more in detail, the matter of the de-
sign of the altar and its reredos.

Of the altar there is very little to be said, further than that
it must be of stone and that its length must bear its proper re-
lation to the size of the church. For the principal or " high

159

CHURCH BUILDING

altar " a length of less than eight feet is practically out of the
question, since this length can hardly be less than a third of the
width of the sanctuary in a Gothic church. Neither can this
length well exceed twelve feet, since the height is fixed at three
feet four inches ; and greater length gives an effect of unpleasant
thinness. The depth need be scarcely more than two feet. The
foot-pace must be as broad as possible, particularly if the altar is
ever to be served by priest, deacon, and sub-deacon. In this case,
also, the steps must be sufficiently wide for a minister to stand on
each of them easily. More than five steps from the floor of the
sanctuary to the foot-pace are awkward ; and, if greater elevation
is necessary, this can be obtained by steps in the choir or, better
still, when the sanctuary is deep enough, by additional steps in-
side the communion rail. If possible, the altar should stand out
from the reredos, giving a space behind for convenience in ar-
ransinor candlesticks and flowers on the retables, which are, of
course, a part of the reredos, not of the altar.

Whether the altar front shall be rich with sculpture and
mosaic and precious marbles, or whether it shall be quite plain
and covered with embroidered frontals, is a matter of ritual, not
of architecture.

It is in the reredos that the great opportunity for splendor
of design offers itself, and the possible variations are almost
endless. The earliest form is that of the baldacchino, a canopy
of some kind supported on columns; but when, with the de-
velopment of a purely Christian style of architecture, the altar
found its place against the east wall, this form was abandoned
for that of the great screen of canopied niches, richly sculptured
panels, and fretted pinnacles. It was in the fifteenth century,
and in England, that this wonderful creation of the medieval
builders reached its highest development ; and, though nearly all
were shattered and wrecked by those acting under the authority

i6o

H . Wilson, Architect.

XCIII. TRIPTYCH, DOUGLASS CASTLE.

XCIV. REREDOS, GLASGOW CATHEDRAL

THE ALTAR

of Henry VIII. and Oliver Cromwell, many have been well re-
stored, and stand as monuments of an age that was great in
Christian art.

Probably that of Winchester cathedral (Frontispiece) is
the noblest of them all, both in its general conception and in
its detail ; and it has served as a model for many that have fol-
lowed both in its own country and under the restoration that is
taking place in ours. Roughly speaking, there are three types
of reredos, — the sculptured screen either joined to the east wall
or detached from it (Frontispiece and Figure LXXXVIII.), the
niched wall where the entire space is covered with decoration
(Figure XCI.), and the triptych (Figures XCII., XCIII.). In
the cases of the screen and the triptych there may be a window
above or behind the reredos. Sometimes the latter rises well
over the windows, showing the flicker of colored light through
its pierced tracery and carving; and, when this is done, the
effect may be most beautiful. The niched wall is seldom found
except in chapels, and is too lacking in composition and con-
centration to commend itself. The triptych is also more ap-
propriate for side chapels than for any high altar, since its size
must always be limited. It is a very mobile form, however, and
offers great opportunities for the most splendid effects of inlay,
color, and gold. It may easily be made exceedingly bad, as can
be seen in F'igure XCII., which is as ill-designed as Figure
XCIII. is nobly conceived. Of course, the triptych demands
good pictures ; and religious painting is so nearly a lost art now-
adays that it is almost out of the question.

The sculptured screen, some modification of the typical
Winchester screen, remains the best and safest form ; but it
must be carefully designed, and with great gravity and restraint,
for it will tend to the condition of the frivolous, " gingerbready "
follies that at present seem to affect the altar designs of the

163

CHURCH BUILDING

Roman Church. Just how to strike a balance between the
necessary architectural quality and the quality of sculpture is a
difficult task. The tendency is apt to be too strong in either
direction. In Figure XCIV. the effect is thoroughly bad, just
because the whole thing is too coldly architectural : it is a struct-
ural episode with no relation to the altar or anything else,
Figure XCV. errs in just the other direction : it is trivial, and
stamped with the mark of the wedding confection. The reredos
shown in the frontispiece remains the perfect type, for it is at
the same time architectural and " sculpturesque." Its propor-
tions are faultless, its composition masterly, its arrangement of
light and shade as perfect as anything left us from mediaeval
times. Now that the long empty cross has received its Figure
of our Lord, and the interpolated picture has given place to
the original range of small statues, the reredos, completely
restored, takes its place as one of the most perfect achieve-
ments of Christian architecture.

Another form of reredos, and one seen but infrequently, is
that which has the screen form, but is made of wood and dec-
orated with the color and gold of the triptych. That in the
chapel of St. Paul's School, Concord, N.H., by Mr. Vaughan
(Figure XCVI.), is undoubtedly the finest of these ; and its effect
of sonorous color and splendid light is most satisfying.

Where by reason of the necessarily great cost a reredos is
temporarily out of the question the dossal gives the requisite
emphasis and the effect of honor that are indispensable. The
dossal that consists of a flat curtain of vertical strips of alternat-
ing brocade and some plain and rich material, a projecting
canopy or " lambrequin," and wings of a stuff somewhat lighter
in weight, is by far the the best form. A dossal that hangs in
folds has too much the effect of upholstery, and it lacks the
dignity so requisite. Without the projecting canopy the effect

164

XCV. ALTAR AND REREDOS, ST. PATRICKS CATHEDRAL, NEW YORK.

Henry Vaughn, Architect.
XCVI. REREDOS, CHAPEL OF ST. PAUL'S SCHOOL, CONCORD, N.H.

T'LOi;\ f

T H E A L TAR

is apt to be too flat and bald. Of course the dossal is suscep-
tible of the utmost enrichment in the way of embroidery, if this
is desired. Where a reredos that is absolutely right in richness
and elaboration is impossible, it is far better to rely on some
form of dossal than to compromise on a small, insignificant, or
barren makeshift. By the very nature of its place and its func-
tion a reredos 7mist be rich and splendid, the best of its kind;
and the best costs very much, which is not true of fabrics
where a few hundred dollars will obtain something that is
really precious in itself.

Of the frontals and superfrontals it may be said that the
majority of modern examples err in that they are too often con-
ceived simply as pieces of embroidery, not as integral parts of
an architectural ensemble. One constantly sees elaborate pieces
of embroidery where the work is faultless, where even the de-
tail of the design is good, but where just this lack of architect-
ural quality is fatal. Strong lines, broad masses, powerful
color composition, are all most necessary ; and without these
qualities faithful and elaborate workmanship and precious
materials go for nothing. Some of the very best examples are
simply intelligent combinations of panels of heavy brocade with
orphreys of plain velvet; and this is just because the brocade or
damask has the formality of pattern and the decorative design
that are imperative.

But this matter of ecclesiastical embroidery is one that should
be treated in a separate book, the subject is so involved and
elaborate. 1 speak of it here simply from a desire to emphasize
the fact that it must of necessity be conceived in relation to its
position, that it must be treated as a part of an architectural
or, rather, artistic composition.

The same is true of the altar brasses, crosses, candlesticks,
and vases, and of the sacred vessels. It is almost impossible

169

CHURCH BUILDING

to get the former in any really good design unless they are es-
pecially made. They are too often crude in design, tawdry in
effect, and rough in workmanship. The common trade-stuff of
"spun" brass, thin and cheap but brilliantly lacquered, is just as
bad as it can possibly be. It is strange that people do not
understand that anything that touches the altar or is used in
honoring it must be absolutely as good, both in workmanship
and design, as man can create. Cheapness and show are
banished forever from the sanctuary.

XCVni. TRIPTYCH IN PAINTED PLASTER.

R. Anning B

170

THE CATHEDRAL

As the altar is the centre, the cuhnination, of each individual
church, the focus of honor, where all the powers of art concen-
trate to exalt into visible dignity that which is in itself the su-
preme wonder of the universe, so is the cathedral the centre and
culmination of the whole Church. It is the embodiment of no
greater glory than that which makes the least of chapels a
Tabernacle of God ; but it is a certain sign of the unity and
dominion of the visible Church, and as the place of the cathe-
dra of a bishop it acquires a certain dignity supplementary to
that which marks the parish church. But it is more than this:
a cathedral is not only the chief church of a diocese, the bishop's
church, it is also the embodiment of the Church militant, the
manifestation of the visible Church, the type and symbol of the
Church triumphant. Its significance is more than official, its
importance other than administrative. It is the church not
only of the bishop, but of every soul within his jurisdiction ; it
is the common meeting-ground of all, the centre of light and
education and evangelical energy ; it is the heart and brain of
the ecclesiastical organism. Structurally it is the work of gen-
erations of men striving to show forth in some sort the glory of
the heavenly city, the power of the Church triumphant, the
majesty and dominion of the kingdom of God.

It is true that any church where the bishop establishes his
throne becomes ipso facto a cathedral ; but the cathedral idea
is more than this. A parish church, even if of great size and
splendor, does not fulfil the requirement. It may serve as a
pro-cathedral; but unless it is conceived architecturally on ca-
thedral lines, unless it begins to grow glorious through an endless
series of benefactions, unless it becomes indeed a centre of vi-

171

CHURCH BUILDING

tality for the whole diocese, it remains but a pro-cathedral still.
For the cathedral is more the expression of an idea than a
function ; and, while it must be adapted to the latter, it must be
conceived and worked out with a very careful regard to the
former quality, which is very evidently of equal importance.
If we consider the cathedrals of the past, in whatever country
they may be found, we shall see how almost invariably the old
builders worked with this thought in mind, and, if they labored
unconsciously, were inevitably driven by impulse to attain the
same ends. During the whole period of the Middle Ages,
when the Church reached her highest degree of development
and power, the cathedrals were designed in a fashion that dif-
ferentiated them completely from parish churches, however
large and gorgeous those may have been, while they bore no
close resemblance to the abbey churches and monastery chap-
els. The cathedral was a special structure, with its own laws,
its own qualities ; and as such it was conceived.

Here and there, of course, there were exceptions to this
rule; and we sometimes find the cathedral to be but an insig-
nificant structure, the chief church in the city but the chapel of
some civil or ecclesiastical authority, as in Venice or Rome ; but,
wherever this occurs, there was some special and local reason,
the normal condition was one where the cathedral was not only
the crowning glory of the diocese, but of the civil State as
well.

It was during the Middle Ages, while the Gothic, or Chris-
tian, style of architecture was supreme, that the cathedral idea
received its fullest development ; and, therefore, the greatest ca-
thedrals are fortunately in this style. The Roman basilicas
that preceded them were prevented by the hampering conditions
of their style from expressing the great and growing idea to the
full, and the Romanesque temples that followed were equally

172

XCIX. 1)1 RHAM.

CHURCH BUILDING

handicapped. St. Peter's in Rome, though not a diocesan ca-
thedral, and St. Paul's in London, are not the structures we
turn to for the most perfect embodiment of the idea of the
Church in its glory, but rather Chartres and Amiens, Seville
and Bourges, Durham and York and Gloucester and Lincoln
(See Figures XCIX., C, CI., and CII.). San Marco seems
but what it was designed to be, a gorgeous and wonderful
chapel, the Renaissance edifices are but theatrical and preten-
tious affectations, while many of the small cathedrals of Eng-
land are such only by virtue of the fiat of, the bishop, — by
intention and in effect they are but parish churches or monas-
tery chapels ; but the real cathedrals, the awful fabrics of chis-
elled stone, with their solemn and cavernous interiors, the
monuments of Christian civilization from the eleventh to the
sixteenth centuries, are, and must forever remain, unmatched
evidences of the dignity and the dominion of the visible Church,
of the imperishable glories of the Church triumphant.

When the Church in England began to enter into her new
life after the dark ages that came upon her with the Civil Wars
and the resulting Commonwealth, it was the administrative as-
pect of the edifice that asserted itself rather than that higher sym-
bolical quality ; and, therefore, it is natural, of course, that this
same idea should have obtained here in America. " The bishop's
church," — this was at first all it was held to be, — a parish
church selected from among those of the diocesan city and
made into a cathedral by the addition of a throne ; or else a new
structure a little richer and more elaborate, with certain remi-
niscent suggestions of the English prototype, only made small
and ineffectual. This idea was wholly wrong, but it was only
temporary ; and, since the cathedral at Albany was projected and
begun, there has been no excuse for any failure to work on the
ancient lines. One may criticise the style of Albany, perhaps,

174

C LINCOLN.

CI GLOUCE^IKR.

CHURCH BUILDING

as one must criticise the style of the New York cathedral ; but
the impelling motive was right, and the name of the bishop of
Albany will always be remembered as that of the prelate who
was primarily responsible for the introduction into the Church
in America of the true cathedral idea. There is no longer any
excuse for such blunders as the cathedral at Garden City. In
future, whatever is done must be done right.

And what is this " right " ? We have but to look back
through England and France, and we shall see. I have already
tried to indicate the spiritual significance of the cathedral. How
shall we best work this out in visible form ?

First of all, by realizing that a cathedral is a structure to be
erected for all time and for an entire diocese ; that it must be
dependent in no respect on temporary conditions, but that it
must be so planned that, as years go by, something may be
added, until a century hence, perhaps, the fabric will stand com-
pleted,— so far, that is, as its mere structure is concerned. It
must always remain a nucleus for constant additions of chapel
and tomb and oratory, windows, statues, and pictures. The
cathedral is never finished ; it is a record of advancing years
forever without term. To build temporarily, to abandon and
rebuild elsewhere, is to forsake the whole idea of the cathedral
as a type of the everlasting Church. Let us suppose that some
one of the smaller dioceses reaches a point where a cathedral
is desired. There is available the sum of, perhaps, $100,000.
What would be the ordinary course ? To build as large an
edifice, complete except for towers and decoration, as could be
obtained for the money. And this would be a negation of the
whole cathedral idea. Rather should this be done. Lay out
roughly the scheme of a vast and imposing structure, then be-
gin one small section and finish this up to a point where it
could be used, if, as with us is almost inevitable, the cathedral

176

TlLDt^ (^U(JNb>i II

THE CATHEDRAL

is also a parish church. If there is money enough, build the
great choir, or carry the walls up part way, putting on a tempo-
rary roof. If this is too much, then build simply the crypt and
use that for the time being. " But such a structure would be
ugly, an eyesore, perhaps for years." What of that ? You are
not erecting a church for your own admiration, for the self-sat-
isfaction of the worshippers therein. You are laying the first
stones of a witness to the glory of God, and the foundations of
a mighty temple, always more honorable than the complete
walls of a third-rate fabric. In the unhewn stones and blunted
walls of Albany, in the crags of monstrous masonry of New
York, there is glory and honor; but in the small trivialities,
the cast-iron expedients, of Garden City there is nothing of
either of these.

If it is true that a parish church is only secondarily an au-
ditorium, and that its greatness as a house of worship must not
be sacrificed to its requirements as a house of instruction, it is
also true that a cathedral is not even secondarily an auditorium.
We may compromise in a parish church, but in a cathedral not
at all. If we build aright, — that is, if we build in the Christian
style and as the men of the Middle Ages built, — we shall have
good acoustics, and this is all we can ask ; to ruin a fabric as a
temple of God wrought with all the strength of exalted art by
trying to give every seat a clear view of the pulpit, or by aban-
doning aisles and chapels and great piers of masonry, is to be
guilty of great foolishness. All that a parish church must be
holds in the case of a cathedral, and more, immeasurably more.
The qualities of grandeur and sublimity, of mystery and awe,
of shadow and silence, of eternal durability and wealth of orna-
mentation paid for by willing sacrifice, — all these things must
be almost as the corner-stone : they must exist, or the labor is
in vain. To obtain them, we must abandon some questions of

179

CHURCH BUILDING

cm. AMIENS.

practicability, of economy of space ; but such action needs no
defence: he who would question it has failed to lay hold of the
meaning of the Church.

A cathedral is not a structural necessity, it is not a measure
of convenience. Its justification is higher: it is the most highly
evolved and the most perfect of the fabrics conceived by man,

i8o

THE CATHEDRAL

reared as a standing testimony of the impulses of reverence,
faith, and devotion that animate the Church. It is untouched
by materialism and commercialism : it is purely ideal ; and, as in
the past, so now it is the crowning work of man dedicated to
the enduring glory of God.

There is no reason why the smallest diocese should not lay
the first stones of the greatest cathedral : numbers do not count,
but faith and devotion. The good cathedrals of the Middle
Ages stand, many of them, in little villages, or at least in small
cities that have never been larger and expect no greater future.
Such, for example, are Ely and Peterborough, Wells and Salis-
bury and Gloucester ; and they are the more wonderful for the
very fact that they do stand in such places. They are beacons
of salvation, enduring monuments of centuries of living piety;
and they rise from the midst of clustering cottages or village
shops, cities of God, set indeed on a hill, shining with a light
that shall not be hid.

Before we consider the matter of the contemporary cathe-
dral, let us look at one or two of the most triumphant monu-
ments of the past, fhey are the type that we must follow in
every way. The Church has not changed, nor the requirements
of a cathedral ; nor, so far as we in this country are concerned,
has the race been so modified as to demand new modes of
expression. The Church in England and her architectural
style are our own, and none can deprive us of our birthright.

There are, then, two great types of the Gothic cathedral,
the French and the English. All the others — Spanish, Ger-
man, and Flemish — are only modifications of the original
French type. Each method has its own virtues, its own de-
fects. The French cathedral stands first in point of sublimity
of conception and unity of effect, also in overwhelming grand-
eur, in emotional power, and in the perfect working out from

i8i

CHURCH BUILDING

a structural standpoint of the great Christian style of architect-
ure. The English cathedral stands first in point of spontane-
ity, of quiet sincerity, of personal devotion. Rheims, Amiens,

CIV. EXETER.

Chartres, while unmatched in their awful glory, have yet some-
thing of pride, even self-consciousness. They proclaim rather
the infinite majesty and the royal dominion of God than the
loving-kindness that is declared by Winchester, Exeter, Lin-
coln, and Wells. (See Figures C, CV., and CIV.) I do not

THE CATHEDRAL

mean this as a criticism of the French type, but only as a
differentiation. From an abstract architectural standpoint
the French cathedrals are far more perfect than the English ;

CV. WINCHESTER.

but in their very pride of acknowledged power, in their dazzling
perfection, there is something that incites almost foreboding.
Consummate achievement treads the perilous edge of catas-
trophe, and in the very faultlessness of Amiens lies the threat
of the ignominy of Beauvais.

183

CHURCH BUILDING

In England, on the other hand, there is no trace of the pride
that goeth before a fall. The builders of the cathedrals were
not masterly men. They dared not pile their stones to the dizzy

CVI. BEAUVAIS — EXTERIOR OF CHOIR.

heights that lured the French. They shrank from cutting
away the supports until the stone vaults hung breathlessly in
the air. They did not understand how to dispose of columns,
how to trace the lines of aisles and chapels, how to curve their
arches and vaults as best to obtain the most awe-inspiring

184

THE CATHEDRAL

effects of shadow and fluctuant light and misty, bewildering
perspective. And, just because they did not, they often
achieved a success equal to, if not beyond, that of their more
self-conscious . rivals on the Continent. Moreover, while the
French cathedrals, even if built during several centuries, show
yet a certain unity of design, those of England are usually
without the least architectural consistency ; for they show the
mutations of style, the vicissitudes of society, the march of his-
tory, the personality of their builders, in a most eminent de-
gree. France is full of matchless architectural monuments,
but England's whole history is writ large in her churches.

It is fortunate for her that this is so. Wherever we find
a church complete in any one given style, as Salisbury, for ex-
ample (Figure CVIII.), we find comparative failure. Here the
plan is almost beyond criticism, the general grouping and
composition finely conceived ; and yet the result is thin and
dry and poor, and Salisbury stands as one of the least good of
English cathedrals. This is partly due to the fact that the
style, " Early English," was not one of any great degree of
beauty, being crude, hard, and undeveloped, and partly to the
offices of the unspeakable Wyatt, who in the eighteenth century
swept away every trace of subsequent additions in the shape
of chapels, chantries, screens, and tombs, leaving the fabric for-
lorn in all its nakedness. But the fact remains that never
have the English achieved the greatness of idea that impelled
the French, where, on the other hand, they have wrought into
enduring stone a personality that is very precious. Before
Chartres one is dumb with awe, and a little afraid ; but Durham
and Peterborough, though the most solemn and imposing of
the cathedrals of England, create only feelings of love, kinship,
and personal affection.

In the French type the general scheme is of the simplest, the

185

CHURCH BUILDING

component parts equally simple. The root is composed of the
nave and transepts crossing and forming a Latin cross. Out-
side this comes an aisle completely surrounding the main fabric,
and at the east end a further sequence of polygonal chapels

CVII. SALISBURY — PLAN.

forming the chevet. Occasionally these chapels are continued
down each side of the nave ; and now and then, as in Cologne,
this line of subsidiary chapels becomes a perfect aisle. The
extreme contour of the plan is perfectly simple, symmetrical,
and unbroken. (Figure CIX.) The entire fabric is vaulted in
stone ; and the thrust of these vaults is received by flying but-
tresses, made: necessary by the fact that the system of construe-

i86

CVIII SALISBURY.

CHURCH BUILDING

tion, which is that of concentrated loads, renders solid but-
tresses impossible. The height of the central nave is from
three to four times the width. Viewed simply as an architect-
ural product, the French cathedral is seen to be the most mar-

^fc

-A

^^:?^^K~^^

/^i

S<^

ul .

S<,

Stt

\/\

'><^

Xj^

^3'

"^X

i><

* A

^><

^xC*

S<^

Cologne Cathedral, Germany. 13th Centnry.
CIX. COLOGNE — PLAN.

vellous work of man. It is almost a living organism : every stone,
every arch, every foot of wall, is designed with an almost un-
imaginable degree of scientific knowledge. Each part has its
function. Nothing is wasted, nothing is unnecessary. It grows
like a living thing, and stands unmatched among the material
products of man's intelligence.

And the resulting effect from an emotional and artistic

i88

ex. NOTRE DAME— WEST FRONT.

CHURCH BUILDING

standpoint is only what must follow from anything conceived in
this masterly fashion. One kneels in Chartres, Amiens, Rheims,
dumb and breathless, awed by the indescribable majesty, dazed
by the triumph of the human mind ; and yet — is it the quicken-
ing of a national soul, the answering of blood to blood, the

CXI. LINCOLN— PLAN.

thrill of indestructible kinship ? Something of all of these,
perhaps ; for it is not to be denied that from the awful majesty
of France one turns to the brave, humble, struggling sincerity
of England as a son to his forgotten patrimony.

And this is well. We may admit the supremacy of the
French Gothic cathedrals, but they are not for us. The English
is ours ; for we two are one people, with one history and one
blood.

190

THE CATHEDRAL

I do not mean that we must be imitative or archaeological.
We may take what we will from France or Spain or Flanders;

CXII. CANTERBURY.

but let us apply it all to the English root, so creating a thing
that is racial and — our own.

For I believe that in the varied plans of the English cathe-
drals is the germ of even greater things than have been wrought
in France. The French cathedral is Greek in its perfect sim-
plicity of idea, mediaeval in the infinite variety and richness of

191

CHURCH BUILDING

its detail. In England was conceived an idea more original,
more supple, capable of far greater mobility of treatment. Dur-
ham, Lincoln, and Salisbury are good examples. (See Figures
CVII. and CXI.)

Inadequate, chaotic, undeveloped, there is yet visible a possi-
bility that is almost unlimited. It was never fully worked out.
It is still rudimentary, but — it exists. The central and dominat-
ing tower is a logical development, full of vast possibilities. The
square-ended choir makes possible effects unattainable on an
apsidal plan. The secondary, eastern transept is a stroke of
genius ; the multiplication of chapels and chantries, the group-
ing of cloister, chapter house, and subsidiary buildings, full of
wonderful opportunities. Then, again, in England was con-
ceived that marvellous thing, fan-vaulting; while only there did
Gothic succeed in taking to itself certain qualities of the good,
early Renaissance, and in assimilating them.

Let us admit at once that England never succeeded in thor-
oughly working out the cathedral idea on the lines she had
indicated for herself. Externally good, the central tower was
never wholly right inside ; and the only attempt at a new solu-
tion of the problem, Ely, was not a success.

Unity yielded, and historic continuity, and the Reformation
destroyed all artistic and religious development just at the time
when there seemed a chance that a great, consistent English
cathedral might come into being. The Chapel of Henry VII.
is a suggestion of what might have been, but, like nearly all
English work, only a suggestion.

Gothic in England was a living and constantly developing
style. It was full of immense vitality, personality. Its growth
was suddenly arrested, and then all artistic labor ceased. The
sequence is once more constituted, and it is for us to take up
the work once abandoned until better days.

192

CXIII. ALBANY CATHEDRAL.

cxiv. Competitive design, new york cathedral.

THE CATHEDRAL

In the modern cathedral, the fabric of to-day, built in a new
land as the chief church and seat of the bishop's throne, in
some diocese that counts at best but little more than a century
since its foundation, we find, as I have already said, the most
perfect opportunity that ever presents itself to an architect. I
have tried to show why church building is the most noble, the
most exalted, and the most perfect of the functions of architect-
ure ; and it follows of course from this that the cathedral, the
culminating point of the structural church, is the problem that
possesses the greatest possibilities. It is a task before which
every man must halt abashed. Not only must the result of his
labors do honor to the Church herself, but as well it must find
itself contrasted with the triumphant monuments of the great
past ; and thus far the contrast has always resulted to the dis-
credit of the modern work. In this lies failure and reproach,
not only to architecture, but to the Church herself. Yet, con-
fronted by reiterated failure, the architect must still go on,
striving always for something better, looking always toward the
possible time when at last the restoration of civilization may
make possible the production through him of that temple that
shall mark a corresponding restoration of the continuity that
has so long been broken.

It is not an easy task. Three centuries of architectural dark
ages have left us rather blind and helpless, knowing not where
to turn ; and, without disrespect, we may say with equal truth
that the same three centuries have resulted in removing from
the Church herself the impulse and the wisdom that might
otherwise have directed us. The cathedral of Albany was at
least conceived on the right lines, but this was due rather to
the incentive of one prelate than to a general recrudescence of
the right idea throughout the Church. When the competition
for the New York cathedral was held, we saw at once how blind

195

CHURCH BUILDING

were the gropings, both of the Church and of the architects.
Practically, none of the designs submitted showed the least
appreciation of the cathedral idea ; and the variation was from
the dry and coldly mechanical (Figure CXIV.) through the
crudely unintelligent (Figure CXV.) to the mad and fantastically

CXV. COMPETITIVE DESIGN, NEW YORK CATHEDRAL.

impossible (Figure CXV I.). It was the chance of a century, and
none came forward to seize upon it to the glory of the Church
and to his own immortality.

This experience in America was only a repetition of that in
England, and it had far greater excuse ; for, when there was a
project of building a cathedral in Liverpool, and a competition
was held, there were great church builders in England, and yet
no designs remotely approached meeting the demands of the

196

THE CATHEDRAL

situation, though of course the general average was much higher
than with us. Very wisely, the Liverpool project was dropped.

Halsey Wood.
CXVI. COMPETITIVE DESIGN, NEW YORK CATHEDRAL.

Were it to be taken up again now, the results would be very
different.

The only two important modern cathedrals in Great Britain
are those of Truro (Figure CXVI I.) and Belfast (Figure

197

CHURCH BUILDING

CXVIII.); and both, while conceived in dignity and with some-
thing of the cathedral idea, are yet dry and archaeological, both
attempted restorations of dead styles, — Truro of the Early Eng-
lish, Belfast of the Decorated. Neither shows a touch of vitality
in point of architectural style ; and, therefore, both of them either

CXVII. TRURO CATHEDRAL

prove the same lack in the Church or else they are slanderous
misrepresentations.

Of course, they date from some years back, and are no proof
of what might be possible now, and the same is true of Albany
and New York ; but, while we have a new confidence in Eng-
land based on the work of such powerful and well-advised men
as Bodley & Garner, Paley & Austin, and Leonard Stokes,
have we that assurance here .? Certainly not, if we are to judge

THE CATHEDRAL

from the two designs once tentatively put out for the ultimately
possible Washington cathedral, one of which was actually
Roman Renaissance in style, the other an archaeological French

CXVIII. BELFAST CATHEDRAL

Gothic, both vacant of any hint of the history and the nature
of the Anglican Communion of the Catholic Church in Amer-
ica. Yet we have men here who are able to design a great
cathedral : the trouble is, that it is the others who, for some
reason or other, obtain the opportunity.

Such "cathedrals" as we now possess, with the single ex-

199

CXIX. GARDEN CITY CATHEDRAL.

THE CATHEDRAL

ception of Albany, need hardly be referred to ; for, if we leave
out Long Island, they are all merely parish churches, or pro-
cathedrals. Garden City may be used simply as an example
of every single thing in design and construction that should be
piously shunned. It is a cheap and frivolous toy, and as a toy
to be avoided. (See Figure CXIX.)

Recently a beginning has been made on a cathedral in
Cleveland (Figure CXX.). Apart from the almost fatal defect
of small scale, the dimensions being those of a parish church,
the scheme is by no means unworthy of the cathedral idea. The
architect, Mr. C. F. Schweinfurth, has succeeded in obtaining a
certain dignity and cathedral effect in spite of hampering con-
ditions. With one more bay added to the length, with the nave
extended to the street line over the narthex, with ten feet added
to the interior height and twenty to the tower, the design, ex-
cept in point of style, perhaps, would be admirable. Still, the
fact remains that we have not as yet seized upon the true
cathedral idea in this country. Where one like the bishop of
Albany, and he the first in America, lays hold of the true idea,
he is able only to a limited degree to convey to his architect the
principle he himself has so clearly in mind. When an almost
unrivalled opportunity offers, as in New York, no architect
comes forward to seize upon it and make it his own. When
even this great chance is excelled by another, the projected
Washington cathedral, the first published suggestions are con-
fused and made of no account by fictitious ideas of a supposed
necessity for a certain architectural harmony with the existing
buildings of the civil government, or else by an equally fictitious
theory as to the advisability of employing the most highly de-
veloped form of the Christian style without regard to ecclesi-
astical history or ethnic development.

When a vast sum becomes available by bequest, as in the

CHURCH BUILDING

case of Garden City, careless and uncultured executors turn a
sacred trust into a commercial operation, and carry out the
terms of the bequest with absolutely no regard for architectural
or ecclesiastical principles.

When, as in Cleveland, the motive is just, the idea noble,
the conception absolutely right, the whole goes for naught

C. F. Schweinfurth, Architect.

CXX. CLEVELAND CATHEDRAL.

through the failure to recognize one of the most essential qual-
ities of a cathedral, — namely, its eternity ; and* therefore, short-
sighted schemes of temporary economy and rapid completion
hamper the architect, and result in the building of but one
more pro-cathedral. Yet, through all our failures, we can see
something of progress. If one cathedral can be begun with the
right ideals of Albany and New York as the foundation, and

THE CATHEDRAL

with the addition of an equally right architectural style, there
will be little chance of a relapse into our former unenlightened
state. For this reason the projected Washington cathedral is a
thing of unmatched importance. Albany and New York are
fixed in style, the former irrevocably, the latter subject to modi-
fication in detail that, apparently, is taking place very rapidly
and in the right direction ; but Washington is still an open
question. Solved rightly, it may be the beginning of a radical
architectural revolution, the results of which are incalculable.
Solved amiss, — that is, as a problem in archeeological erudition,
Roman or French, — it will mean harm immeasurable and the
postponing of the needed architectural reform for many years.

What is this correct solution ? What relation does the
modern cathedral bear to that of mediaevalism ? What of the
ancient qualities persist, what have ceased, what new things
have been added ?

First of all, those supreme qualities of ultimate grandeur
and sublimity already postulated for the parish church by reason
of its nature as a Tabernacle of the Living God, those qualities
which are to be obtained through self-sacrifice and through the
eivinor of the absolute best we have in art and labor, are as
persistent now as in the past. Then, also, we must build in
such wise as to crush with awe all those who enter the portals,
and raise them again into spiritual exaltation. We must build
for all time and little by little, making what is to-day but one
minor cell, perhaps, in the final vast and triumphant organism.
We must so design the work that it will best adapt itself to the
most solemn ritual, the most imposing services ; and, therefore,
the choir and sanctuary must be vast and spacious, the aisles
clear for processions, the sacristies numerous and ample. We
are building not for a parish, but for a whole diocese. Therefore,
the space for worshippers must be very great, there must be

203

CHURCH BUILDING

many small chapels and oratories, and opportunity for endless
tombs and tablets. We are to glorify God through art. There-

CXXI. VICTORIA CATHEDRAL. (Wilson.)

fore, the best that can be found in all the world is none too
good. I shall speak of architectural style in the concluding
chapter, passing the question here, only saying that the cathe-
dral built to-day, like those built centuries ago, must grow like
any of God's creatures ; it must live : every stone must enter per-

204

THE CATHEDRAL

fectly into the being of what is almost a sentient thing. Every
shaft and arch and vault, every buttress, wall, and pinnacle,
must play its just and perfect part: there must be no waste of
force and no weakness, no faulty proportion, no ill-considered
mass. Rheims and Amiens and Durham are crystalline, for
you cannot add to them nor take away, they are rounded into
perfection of life ; and, as they are, so must our work be also.

These are some of the things that come down to us un-
changed, and that must be demanded of architects. Of the
qualities that are no longer essential, there are few ; and, such as
they are, they apply chiefly to administration. We no longer
have monastic orders intimately connected with cathedral foun-
dations, and there are usually lacking the resident canons who
make possible constant daily service before the high altar. So
the presbytery and choir need not be quite as large as in the past,
though, as the result of this, the chapels must be at least equally
numerous.

Of the new requirements, that of accommodating the largest
number of people, with the smallest proportion of those who
cannot see either the altar or the pulpit, is the most important.
The inexorable law here is that this shall be considered up to
the point where there would be the slightest loss architecturally,
but not one step further. The chief result of this requirement
is the throwing open of all the central part of the church, the
abolition of the solid, monastic choir screen, and the piercing of
vistas diagonally through aisles and chapels, — really, a good thing
in itself, and tending to a bettering of the architectural effect.

It would not seem from this that the problem had materially
changed. How could it.? The Church is essentially immu-
table, and essentially her architectural expression must be the
same. The old ideals persist and control us in our labors. Fol-
lowing them, we can hardly go wrong, the danger lies only in
breaking recklessly away.

205

CHURCH BUILDING

Latterly in England a tendency has manifested itself in this
direction : the impulse toward a new vitality has rather out-

CXXII. EXAMPLE OF I5AD PLANNING.

stripped itself. In Figure CXXI. I have shown an example of
this rather exaggerated effort. I shall speak of this, again in the
closing chapter. I refer to it now simply as an example of a
danger that may threaten from too wide a divergence from

206

THE CATHEDRAL

precedent. Brilliant as it is, original, living, and full of religious
feeling, it yet lacks just that seriousness of purpose and that
continuity of style that are absolutely imperative.

For, at the risk of what may seem wearisome reiteration, I
must continue to insist on the necessity of preserving the con-
tinuity of architectural idea, in order that we may adequately
show forth the perfect continuity of the Church. It is illogical
and unjustifiable to permit ourselves to be led away into unfa-
miliar paths at the instigation of self-willed ecclesiastics or
ambitious architects. With the classic styles we have, and can
have, absolutely nothing whatever to do. Sir Christopher
Wren was an episode, and St. Paul's cathedral is an episode
also. It and the spirit it exemplifies were an intrusion into the
Church ; and, if they represent anything, they represent an
occurrence that we are now endeavoring to forget.

I have referred before to the danger that once threatened of
a classical cathedral in the diocese of Washington. This danger
has probably passed ; but, so long as it continued, every one who
was interested in seeing a true architectural development of the
Church in America must have trembled with apprehension. A
cathedral in Washington, built in what I am, perhaps, justified
in calling the " Jesuit " style of architecture, could only have set
back the architectural progress of the Church to an incalculable
deo-ree. The same thing is true of the now discredited Roman-
esque, and as well of French Gothic. The former was, as I have
said, a local and evanescent fashion : the latter, while no criti-
cisms can be brought against it from an architectural stand-
point, is nevertheless forbidden us from ethnic and historic
reasons. Our succession is through the Scottish and Anglican
Churches : our blood is that of Great Britain. In every possible
way we are tied to England and her traditions, and whatever we
do architecturally in the service of the Church must be done as
a development and continuation of her history.

207

CHURCH BUILDING

I have spoken frequently of the importance of the plan as
the governing principle in every scheme. It was always held as
such in all the great periods of the past ; and the measured plan
of any one of the cathedrals of the Middle Ages is almost as in-
teresting, almost as much a work of art, as the exterior.
Examine the old plans I have printed in this chapter. In every
case they are masterpieces of composition, of the spacing
of voids, of the proportioning of solids, and of the tracing of
contours. In this very fact lies, I think, one proof of the es-
sential greatness of the mediaeval builders. Totally without
architectural training, they nevertheless felt the laws of archi-
tecture so keenly that they were driven to do work which was
in itself masterly.

Compare with any one of these plans that which I have
shown in Figure CXXII., one of those submitted in the com-
petition for the New York cathedral, and I think it will be rec-
ognized at once that in the modern example is a total lack of
proportion, composition, and as well that "inevitable" quality
that marks all the work of the Middle Ages. There is no cen-
tral idea, and nothing develops from anything else. The pro-
portions are fatal, the arrangement of chapels casual and
without sufficient excuse. It may be that this question of plan-
ning is essentially one that appeals to an architect more than to
a layman, but it is fundamental.

In Figure CXXIII. I have endeavored to show a scheme
for such a cathedral as is usually demanded in this country. As
will be seen, its basis is the typical English plan, its dominat-
ing feature is the great central tower, the point which differen-
tiates the English from the French idea ; for in the latter case
the fa9ade is the culminating point. I cannot but feel that the
English type is far more architectural and possessed of greater
possibilities of splendid development than the type in vogue

208

« a ■

a. M L:
H„£.

" 7- X

— s- »

now
3- = q

2. ■< s:

cs S O >

» £ W '

s- n 2- "^

5 2. ^ >

■^ ? ^ ^

:^ ■
Si Z-^

— c
Six

z o

nr?

THE CATHEDRAL

across the Channel. Also this plan provides for a double tran-
sept ; that is, for a secondary transept eastward of the crossing.
This also is a particularly fine development of English com-
position. In deference to contemporary prejudices, the nave
is made very wide, in order that all the seats may be placed

CXXIV. VICTORIA CATHEDRAL. (Competitive design.)

within the arcades, giving a clear view of the altar from nearly
every seat. The requisite shadow is given by narrow ambula-
tories, which are built out into small chapels or niches for
monuments between the buttresses.

As I have said before, the great weakness of the English plan
lies in the narrowing of the church at the central point, — that
is, the crossing, — the only attempt at obviating this — namely,
the octagonal lantern of Ely — having been really a failure. I

CHURCH BUILDING

have endeavored to obviate this effect by reducing the size of
the main supports and adding subsidiary supports at the angles,
also by developing these same angles so as to give that " open-
ing out " effect I have before spoken of as being so desirable.
This treatment has another advantage, in that it gives to all
the seats in the transepts a clear view of the altar. Two
secondary altars have been provided, opening directly into the
transepts and so arranged that a large number of seats may be
used when services are held at these altars. This is most desir-
able, for in any cathedral there will of course be many services
where the high altar would scarcely be used. The English
system of having small services at the high altar, the congrega-
tion occupying the stalls, cannot be condemned too vigorously ;
and it is a corruption against which we must carefully guard
here in America.

The choir has of course been made deep and spacious, for
this is absolutely necessary on certain occasions ; and the cathe-
dral must be conceived with regard to the greatest demands
that will ever be made upon it. The east transept does not
project in its full height to the lines of the two sacristies, but
would probably extend only one narrow bay, just covering the
choir ambulatory. In these transepts above the ambulatory,
galleries could be provided for the orchestra and auxiliary
choir of women's voices. Another great advantage of this
second transept is that it makes possible great windows,
which will throw desirable light directly into the sanctuary.

The Lady Chapel is given its traditional position to the
eastward of the high altar. Above the reredos would be a
great arched opening not filled with glass, but giving a view
through to the end of the Lady Chapel. Sacristies for the
bishop, dean, clergy, choir, and choirmaster, as well as the
working or altar sacristy, have been arranged with due re-

THE CATHEDRAL

gard to convenience of administration. To the north a cloister
(incomplete on the plan) has been shown ; and in this cloister is
the chapter house, which has direct communication also with
the clergy vestry, and the bishop's sacristy. Beyond would
come the various diocesan buildings, arranged as circumstances
and conditions might demand.

Returning to the main front, the entrance would be through
three deeply recessed porches to a large narthex, which on the
north would open into a Calvary chapel, to be used also as a
mortuary chapel, wdth a vault under. In a corresponding
position on the south is the baptistery.

I have shown no exterior view of this scheme ; but, to ex-
press consistently the Church in all her history, the style should
be that to which I have constantly referred as the only one on
which we have an unquestionable claim, — that is, the last per-
pendicular of the fifteenth century, the most brilliant example of
which is the Chapel of Henry VII, at Westminster. The whole
mass would be dominated by a great central tower, buttressed
by nave, choir, and transepts. To the west the two subordinate
towers would be kept low, and to the east a secondary transept
would echo the support given the central tower by the towers
at the west. The aisles would be practically without light, the
clerestory filled with very large windows, and at the west end
over the narthex and between the two towers a still larger
window filling the entire space.

The scheme I have shown is arranged for masonry vaulting;
and this should be employed, or at all events contemplated,
in every case.

It is deeply to be desired that some opportunity may offer
for the building of a great and typical cathedral in this country.
If one could be constructed, or at all events begun, with a due
regard to all the principles which should underlie true church-

213

CXXV. NEW YORK CATHEDRAL, (ACCEPTED DESIGN).

THE CATHEDRAL

building, it would undoubtedly result in fixing for a century
the style of ecclesiastical architecture in this country ; and, once
established on correct lines, we should soon see a development
of ecclesiastical architecture which might easily rank with the
best of that which we have had in the past.

But, if this is to occur, there must be no more trifline with
a score of different styles and ideas. We must fix on a logical
and consistent system of procedure. Indeed, I do not think
that I am saying too much when I say that it would be well
worth the cost, were the Church in America to have some con-
vention or conference devoted exclusively to this most impor-
tant question of architectural expression. I protest that it is a
matter of profound importance ; and, if there could be summoned
to some such conference as I suggest the representative eccle-
siastical architects of the country, and perhaps several from
Great Britain as well, the problem could easily be settled
beyond a question on sane and satisfactory lines.

2^5

CONCLUSION

In the foregoing chapters I have endeavored to formulate
the idea of the church as an architectural entity, to show that
church building is not simply an ordinary proposition in archi-
tectural design, but rather a problem governed by higher prin-
ciples and more enduring laws than obtain in any other form of
the great art of building. I have tried to indicate the difference
between the modern problems of civil architecture and ecclesi-
astical ; to show that, while in the former fashion, individual
taste and temporary and changing conditions may justly be taken
into account, in the latter we are confronted by a power de-
manding material expression, that in all essential things is un-
changed and unchangeable. This fact has been forgotten for
several centuries ; and the result has been not only chaotic and
misleading, but as well actually detrimental to the position and
influence of the Church herself. For we cannot look on archi-
tecture, or on art in any of its forms, as an accidental thing, as
a matter with which the Church has little concern. We must
learn the lesson, once well known, but long forgotten, that art
is one of the most accurate indices of civilization known to his-
tory, that it is an actual and vital power competent to do God's
work through His Church surely and lastingly, and that indif-
ference to its work or carelessness means actual and measurable
loss.

By regarding her architectural and artistic expression as a
matter of indifference, by leaving the subject in the hands of
incompetent committees and untrained and unsympathetic
architects, by following after the evanescent will-o'-the-wisps of
fantastic fashion, by building, in a word, bad churches instead of
good ones, as she has done for these many centuries, the Church

217

CHURCH BUILDING

has not only cast aside a great teaching agency, she has as well
been false to a trust ; for she has always been the inspiration of
art, and its protector, and, when civil life fell to a level where it
was no longer able to incite to artistic activity, the responsi-
bility of the Church was doubled, for she remained then the
only vital power that could insure the continuity of the artistic
life of men.

It is, of course, worse than useless to mourn over what is
accomplished, but we may at least consider it, in order that we
may see clearly how we are to try for better things ; and, in do-
ing- so, we must first realize how bad has been the work of the
past three hundred years. Once admit this, and it is enough :
we can then pass to the more important consideration of ways
and means for effecting the reform.

The trouble has been that, from the time of Henry VIII.,
the Church has allowed the civil power to lead, in all matters
of art, at least. This was not a safe leadership, for society was
not of a nature that made possible artistic development in the
line of an advance. The first impulse of the Italian Renaissance
was thoroughly assimilated by England, and the Christian style
made more sensitive and beautiful thereby, as may be seen by a
reference to the Chapel of Henry VII. at Westminster; but,
though for the moment it looked as though English Gothic
was about to develop for the first time into a purely national
and uniquely beautiful style, the hope was vain, and rushing
political events brought collapse and catastrophe. The evolu-
tion of the great national style was cut as by a knife ; and Ger-
man influence under Elizabeth, debased Italian under the last
of the Stuarts, and crude Dutch under the imported Hanoveri-
ans, were only stages in a constantly accelerating fall. At the
beginning of the nineteenth century the deplorable progress
was stayed, simply because there was no pit of farther fall.

218

CONCLUSION

And always the Church had taken whatever was popular in
civil life. Of course, no churches were built under Elizabeth;
for there were already too many, and they could be given away
to courtiers. The same was true under the first two Stuarts,
though Charles I. did indeed do his best to stay the ignomini-
ous progress and effect a reaction in favor of the national and
Christian Gothic. Once more a healthy movement was crushed
by revolution, and with the Restoration the classical Renaissance
resumed its progress. Wren, Inigo Jones, Gibbs, and their ilk
were technically able men, but they were hampered by an ab-
surd style ; and they could not build churches, though they did.
With them everything stopped, and for a century and a half
reliafious architecture was non-existent. What our ancestors
did in America was only crude imitation, without any artistic
value whatever, and precious only from an historical stand-
point. The French Revolution and its American advocate,
Thomas Jefferson, brought in a further modification in the line
of still greater depravity and artificiality ; and here the col-
lapse might almost seem to have stopped, for the next phase
was the first flush of the great Gothic Restoration. Unfortu-
nately, however, this was with us only an episode, though the
work done by its great advocates, Upjohn and Renwick, de-
served better things. But as in England, so here. There the
Pugins, with their sensitive appreciation of architecture as a
living thing, had been succeeded by the masters of archaeology,
Scott, Street, and Pierson ; and the Gothic revival went back-
ward. Here Upjohn gave place to the practitioners of " Victo-
rian Gothic," and dryness and artificiality were the result. The
Centennial was the signal for the complete break-up of all con-
sistent building; and the deplorable chaos that followed was
lightened only by the fast strengthening influence of Richard-
son, with his enormous vitality, his splendid sincerity and

2 19

CHURCH BUILDING

honesty. But his was an alien style, with no historic or ethnic
propriety : its virtue was the virtue of its advocate alone ; and
with his death the fatal weakness of Romanesque became ap-
parent. There was none to carry on the master's work. It de-
^Tenerated into the most shocking barbarism, and passed into
history as an episode. Yet, even if this was its lamentable fate,
the greater quality of Richardson persisted ; and, until French
Renaissance came as the latest and freshest fad, something of
honesty and directness was demanded in architecture.

In the mean time the steady and noble work of Bodley and
Garner and Sedding had borne fruit in England. Victorian
Gothic was suppressed, and continuity was restored with the
original movement begun by Pugin. A score of brilliant men
took up the task of the restoration and established it firmly;
while Mr. Henry Vaughn came to America as the apostle of
the new dispensation, and a few men have seized enthusiasti-
cally upon the principles he so modestly showed in his work.

Since then there has been a new development in England,
and, I think, hardly a healthy one ; that, namely, toward an ex-
aggeration of the elements of originality in Sedding's work to
the exclusion of those conservative qualities on which it was
based. Yet I am sure that this is only a temporary phase of
development, and in it is something of encouragement, though
for the time it is exaggerated ; for, however radical and revolu-
tionary it may be, it is vital and contemporary, and shows how
fully the younger men appreciate the necessity of making ec-
clesiastical architecture living, mobile, and spontaneous.

Such, briefly, is an outline of the vicissitudes of architect-
ure since the time of Henry VIII., when its natural process of
development was stopped. It is a record of confusion, of arti-
ficiality, of a complete lack of consistency and of governing
motives. That it represents accurately enough the progress of

CONCLUSION

general civilization may be true, as I have said in the Intro-
duction ; but that it adequately expresses the immutable Church
is not true, even if we admit, as we may, that it voices her
superficial, and for these hundred years her apparent, nature.
We can no longer plead ignorance, lack of knowledge of the
importance of art in the service of the Church, want of guidance
on the part of architects toward a true and logical architectural
expression. If the Church continues to show herself through
flippant and fantastic styles, if she still prefers confusion and
disorder and artistic failure, then she does so with a clear
knowledge of what she is doing.

But that she will follow this false and unworthy course I do
not believe ; for she is daily growing more united, more clear-
sighted, more conscious of her unity, of her position as an in-
tegral portion of the one Catholic Church, and this very
consciousness must of necessity explain itself in a correspond-
ing consistency of outward appearance.

What, then, is her duty ? what is the attitude that she must
maintain toward art and her own architectural expression ?

First of all, she must realize that architecture is in no man-
ner a matter of fashion, of predilection, of personal or individual
tastes ; that a style is good if it expresses the spiritual idea of
the power that employs it, the genealogy and the history, the
continuity of blood, the ethnic alTfiliations, and the temper of a
people. Then she must understand that a chaos of styles is
unendurable, and that one, and one only, can be employed at
any given time. As she is one, so must her art be, also ; though,
once established, it may develop and expand to any degree,
until it has progressed far beyond the original point of depart-
ure. Also, she must know this: that a style cannot be called
out of nothingness into being, but that it must be a continua-
tion, a development, reaching back through the ages to the very
beginning of all.

CHURCH BUILDING

In the architecture of the last three hundred years there has
been neither consistency nor continuity: it is a riot of epi-
sodes,— no more. The French Renaissance of the boulevards,
rampant in secular affairs just now ; Richardsonian Romanesque,
only just passed into history; the jabbering argots of the quarter
of a century following the Civil War, Victorian Gothic, pseudo-
Gothic, Jeffersonian, Colonial, Georgian, Queen Anne, Jacob-
ean, Elizabethan, — all are but fantastic episodes, without value
except as a stern reminder of the episodical nature of the
progress of post-reformation civilization. Step by step we go
back through the labyrinth of artificiality, until in Jacobean we
find a certain quality of spontaneity, in Elizabethan a little
more, and then, at a step, we pass from confusion to order, from
posing to healthy activity, from self-consciousness to frank sim-
plicity, from disorder to the reign of law.

For, from the coming of William the Conqueror to the
death of Cardinal Wolsey, the development of Christian archi-
tecture in England had been slow, sure, and logical, — from the
Norman of Durham, through the Early English of Ely and
Wells, the Decorated of Canterbury and York, down to the
day when William of Wykeham, bishop of Winchester, by what
almost seemed divine inspiration, saw before him the next and
greatest step, took it, and in a breath turned the gropings that
had been hitherto into clear seeing, and so made possible the
development of a form of Gothic that was at once worthy to
stand with that of France, and, as well, purely and consistently
English. . It is at this point that at last we are able to take up
the thread of development, and not before ; for, as I have said,
all since was but a babel of tongues. Before had been the con-
stant struggle for national expression ; but it was through means
always a little more highly perfected across the Channel.
English Gothic was always differentiated ; but, until William of

CONCLUSION

Wykeham, it had fallen a little short of the wonderful products
of the Christian style in France. Winchester cathedral, as it
was recast by the great bishop, showed that this reproach need
no longer be endured.

English Gothic had attained its majority, and from now
could only be triumphant growth and advance. And such was
really the case. The perfected style came into universal use,
and its beauty fell like a garment over the stern old Norman
and Early English cathedrals and abbeys. Unfortunately, none
of these dates wholly from this time; but in Winchester,
Gloucester, and Sherborne, in the Lady chapels, chantries,
tombs, and reredoses of an hundred foundations, in the colleges
and chapels of Oxford and Cambridge, we can see how delicate,
mobile, and withal, national, was the wonderful thing William
of Wykeham had brought into existence. It was logical in con-
struction, rational, and scientific ; it adapted itself to conditions
as did no other phase of Gothic ; it was, and is, absolutely mod-
ern, yet it was expressed through the highest forms of sensitive
beauty; and, above all, it was national. It was not French,
either of the Norman type of Durham or of the Geometric of
Westminster. It was of England, English ; and it voiced the
highest qualities of the loftiest civilization, — that of the end of
the fourteenth and the beginning of the fifteenth centuries.

There seems no limit to the possibilities of its growth ; and
yet, before it had had time to create a single consistent and
complete cathedral or abbey, at the very opening of its career,
it was crushed, broken, utterly swept away, and in its place
came the crude and pagan classic of Wren and Inigo Jones.

Here is our starting-point. We may pass over the various
fashionable styles with hardly a word, for none will be found
bold enough to advocate classic architecture in any of its forms
for the service of the Church. Romanesque has wrought its

223

CHURCH BUILDING

own downfall, and there is none so mean as to do it reverence.
To Gothic we return inevitably; but the process of exclusion
does not cease here. Were we tt) continue as now, building es-
says in archaeology, to-day in French Flamboyant, to-morrow in
Early English, here in Decorated, there in Francois premier,
we should still be following out the old principle of artificiality.
One style, and one only, is for us; and that is the li^nglish Per-
pendicular.

Every other phase of Gothic rose in response to a demand,
culminated, and passed. Early English was right for the thir-
teenth century in England ; Flamboyant, for the fourteenth cen-
tury in France : with them we have nothing to do. If we play
with them, we are making experiments in archaeology, not serv-
ing God through His Church. Hut, when we turn to the last
great Gothic of all, the Gothic of William of Wykeham, we turn
to the work of our own race, to our own inalienable heritage.
Out of the baitings and ventures of three centuries of English-
men, the bishop of Winchester gathered the good, rejected the
bad. A great architect before he took Holy Orders, he saw, by
some strange illumination, the goal toward which abbot and
monk and mason had been striving. All before had been ex-
perimental essays toward national expression, crude often, and
always inadequate, but earnest, honorable, consistent. He as-
similated it all, fused it in the crucible of his masterly and
domineering mind, and produced, at a stroke, that for which
generations had patiently labored, — the free, mobile, all-com-
prehending expression of a religion and a race.

Yet he came too late to make possible the full development
of the style he had revealed. Chaos was pending: the founda-
tions of the great civilization of the Middle Ages were being
overturned. The Renaissance, Reformation, Rebellion, and
Revolution followed, one after the other; and the fabric of

224

CONCLUSION

medicEvalism crumbled to dust. From the day when Henry
VIII. began the suppression of the minor monasteries, the doom
of Christian architecture was sealed. In a day the work of
William of Wykeham came to naught. Thomas Cromwell was
succeeded by another of that ilk, he by Wyatt, he by Grim-
thorpe ; and now we find but the shattered fragments of the
greatest architectural manifestation England had ever given to
the world.

We are working toward a restoration of much that was cast
down, though, as we find now, not utterly destroyed. The
spirit that is returning to the Church demands expression. We
are restoring a theological, doctrinal, and administrative con-
tinuity; and we must fitly express this in structural form. This
happened in England when the Oxford movement found the
Pugins ready to serve the Church with perfect service. The
rehabilitation of the churches went hand in hand with the re-
habitation of the Church, and it continues unimpeded to this
day. The Church in America must emulate the Church in
England ; and it is nothing short of a solemn duty that urges
her to take such action as will result in ending forever the pres-
ent artistic chaos, substituting in place thereof consistency and
unity.

And, if she does this, if she realizes the power of art in her
service as a vast agency for good of every kind, if she strives to
be outwardly what she has been in the past, if she comes to
stand before the world united, consistent, dominating in her
material forms, more will follow than merely creditable archi-
tecture. At present we flounder in a morass of conflicting
systems of art : civil society cannot aid us, for it is equally mired
in confusion ; the Roman Church is helpless, chained hand and
foot by utter artistic depravity, ignorance, and self-satisfaction.
We alone cherish the flickering fire that has miraculously been

CHURCH BUILDING

preserved to our hands. The opportunity is era-making.
Shall we let it pass ?

In the last chapter I suggested the possibility of corporate
action on the part of the Church toward the determination of a
single course of procedure for the immediate future. I believe
the gain quite worth the trouble and the cost. If, in connection
with some triennial convention, a conference could be held
where the whole question of art in its relation to the Church
could be thoroughly discussed by the clerical and lay members
of the convention, together with church architects from America
and England, I believe that the result would be incalculable in
its benefits.

Art and religion cannot be dissociated without mutual loss,
for in its highest estate the former is but the perfect expression
of the latter. The time has surely come for the restoration of
the old interdependence, and this would very certainly be
effected by such a conference as I have suggested.

Nor should this possible conference confine itself to a con-
sideration of architecture alone : religious painting, decoration,
church music, sculpture, metal work, embroidery, all these things
might well be considered ; and all would be worthy, for all are
but certain of the means whereby we try to glorify God and
honor the Church He created.

And I am very sure that in point of architecture one decision
would be reached unanimously, and that the decision to take up
the architectural life of the Church where it was severed in the
sixteenth century, and carry to its logical and glorious develop-
ment the work begun by William of Wykeham, bishop of
Winchester. The Church would easily come to see the wrong
and the harm of following farther our present chaotic methods.
Romanesque and Colonial, Italian and French Renaissance,
the early Gothic of France and Germany, Spain and England,

226

CONCLUSION

would be abandoned ; and we should take up once more the
great and unfinished style that in the fifteenth century came to
express with matchless delicacy all the many and varied quali-
ties of English civilization. On this strong stock would be
grafted all of the beauty that could be gathered from the archi-
tectural styles of the world. As we have received and assimi-
lated the blood of many nations, making ourselves a mighty
and dominant people, so should we assimilate the qualities of
their art, grafting on the vigorous stem offshoots from many
lands; but, through the whole marvellous growth that would
then be possible, would persist in enduring strength the vigor-
ous, vital principle of Christian and English civilization.

!27

Internet Archive Audio

Featured

Top

Images

Featured

Top

Software

Featured

Top

Books

Featured

Top

Video

Featured

Top

Mobile Apps

Browser Extensions

Archive-It Subscription

Save Page Now

Full text of "Church building; a study of the principles of architecture in their relation to the church"

See other formats