Part 19

In thick walls and rich work there is often another order of through-arch within the tracery order, or rather the outer order re-appears within. The rere-arch is occasionally cusped, as in a window at Broughton, Oxfordshire (Fig. 165), and the intervening space is sometimes groined, as in some windows at Salisbury and Christchurch (Fig. 166), or richly panelled, as in some at Westminster. In some instances the place of the rere-arch is occupied by distinct tracery, like a second window in advance of the real one. This consists in most instances of perfect bar tracery, while the window itself is of plate tracery; as may be seen in some of the windows at Stone Church, Kent (Fig. 167), and as once existed on a much larger scale in the chapter-house at Tintern. I may here mention that the tracery of a window is always viewed as an _arch-order_; and, though the corresponding order in the jamb is in the solid with the jamb up to the springing, the tracery, like other arch-orders, is severed by a continuous joint from the order above it.

The most normal type of the through-arch window is that in which the glass is placed in the middle of the thickness of the wall, and the interior of the window is a mere repetition of its exterior. This is not, however, by any means necessary or constant; for the glass is often either less or more recessed, and the inner mouldings, etc., are not always similar to the external ones, so that the existence or non-existence of a separate internal arch is the more clear distinction. Some, however, of an intermediate character, are to be found in which an inner arch, separate in design, is nevertheless concentric with the outer arch. In others the separate existence of the inner arch arises from the existence of a triforium passage, which in clerestory windows leads to some changes of design from the normal type. In others the rere-arch is not only concentric, but is so close upon the outer arch as to be almost one with it. The two classes are, however, for the most part easily distinguished.

One of the earliest instances which I recollect of the rere-arch is in the eastern part of Tynemouth Priory.[63] This is in the transitional style, and the strongly-marked separation of the inner from the outer arch is largely owing to the vast thickness of the walls. The glass plane is perhaps four times as far from the inside as from the outside.

A fine series of specimens is in the chancel of Brecon Priory (Fig. 168), where the separation between the outer and inner arch, and the depth of the glass from the inner face are also very great. Most of the early English windows found in churches of an ordinary type are of this class. Among Early English buildings in which the windows are mostly of the “rere-arch” variety, may be mentioned Salisbury Cathedral, Whitby Abbey, the Temple Church (eastern part), the Chapel of the Nine Altars at Durham,[64] Trumpington’s work at St. Alban’s, the choir of Brecon Priory, the eastern Chapels at Winchester (Fig. 169), the chapter-house at Oxford, the choir of Fountains Abbey, etc. Among those of the same style in which the “through-arch” window prevails, may be mentioned the transepts at York, the choir aisles at Carlisle, Rievaulx Abbey, the chapter-house at Furness Abbey (Fig. 170), much of the work at Lincoln, Kirkham Abbey, etc.

Among buildings transitional between Early English and Decorated, or very early Decorated, may be named as having mainly rere-arch windows, Westminster Abbey (excepting the chapter-house), Tintern Abbey, the eastern parts

of St. Alban’s Abbey, the beautiful Templars’ Church at Temple Balsal, the Chapel of the Palace of the Bishops of Ely in Holborn (Figs. 171, 172), the choir of Dorchester Abbey, the Bishops’ Hall at Wells, the choir of Merton Chapel at Oxford, etc.

Among those of a like period in which the through-arch window prevails, may be named the chapter-houses at Westminster and Salisbury (Fig. 173), the later parts of Lincoln, the choir aisles at Selby and Guisborough, the choir of St. Mary’s Abbey at York, most of the Decorated work at York Minster, Exeter, etc. In later Decorated work the same freedom of choice prevails, as it does also in “Perpendicular” buildings, though, as we come down to later dates, the “through-arch” becomes, on the whole, more prevalent.

Taking all styles together, the rere-arch, or in earlier works the wider internal splay, is greatly more frequent, probably because less costly than the other form; and though, when the “through-arch” is used, the glass is usually set deeper from the external face than when there is a rere-arch, and is frequently near the centre of the wall, such is often not the case, as in the eastern windows at Kirkham, where the internal depth is much the greater, and, in a few instances, where it is less, than the external. On the whole, it may be said that the rere-arch system tells most internally, while the other offers greater freedom for external depth of jamb and arch mouldings. Both are equally at the choice and command of the architect, who can use both, if he pleases, in the same building, and to condemn either would be like blotting out an essential element of architecture.

LECTURE VIII.

On the Practical Study of Gothic Architecture.

Evident ignorance or neglect of those who practise Gothic architecture--Faithfulness of others--The styles should be learned from ancient buildings--Our knowledge to be continually revived and added to--Hints to students--The study of Lincoln Cathedral, Canterbury Cathedral, and examples in London--Libraries and museums in London--Foreign travel--Examples in Paris, and other parts of France--Germany, Italy, Spain, etc. etc.

As it is six years since I last delivered a lecture in this place, and nine years since the first of the short series which I gave, it is in the highest degree improbable that any one of the students whom I have the pleasure of addressing was present on any of those occasions. Had that series been a complete one, I might possibly have done better by, in some degree, repeating it; but as it was not so, and as there is an inconsistency in offering supplementary lectures to a new audience, I have adopted the expedient of printing my former lectures, and distributing them to the architectural students, and of re-exhibiting the illustrations which accompanied them; so that, knowing that those who have thought it worth while may have read what I have already said, I am free to proceed as if my audience were unchanged.

I will here mention that I only come before you at all owing to my friend Mr. Smirke (who for five years has so ably and indefatigably fulfilled the duties of Professor of Architecture), having felt it necessary, for this year at least, to retire from those duties, and to my having been asked to do something--be it ever so little--to prevent the class of architecture from falling into abeyance for the year. I have, therefore, undertaken two lectures, as a mere apology during the interregnum for the more onerous duties of a professor, and I must beg to be excused if the manner in which I perform this temporary duty is of the same dubious kind with the duty itself.

In my former lectures I endeavoured, first, to state the claims of Gothic architecture upon our special study and attention; I next, in a series of four lectures, traced out with some minuteness the history of its development from the earlier and ruder forms of Romanesque--through the various processes of refinement which brought that style to its highest state of perfection--and, through the great process of transition by which it became gradually and systematically changed into the Pointed style: not, as I showed, from a mere change of taste or fashion, but from strictly logical and practical causes, accompanied by an ardent unresting determination to raise the art to the highest perfection which the circumstances of the age would permit; and I then showed how the Pointed style--when once generated--developed itself into the perfected and glorious architecture of the middle of the thirteenth century.

I did not follow out the history of Gothic architecture in its succeeding stages, as my object was rather _moral_ than merely _historical_, and I desired rather to exhibit the glorious earnestness of a people, who, while developing a new civilisation, pressed ardently forward, side by side with it, the generation of a new style of architecture, than to give a history of the successive changes through which that architecture passed. When, therefore, I had traced out the style to its culminating point, I quitted mere history, and closed with two lectures on the _rationale_ of the style, showing how every form which characterised it in its best days was dictated, not by fashion or caprice, but by _reason_.

Being now, after a lengthened interval, called upon to add two lectures to my series, I take for my subjects the practical study of Gothic architecture, and its actual practice and adaptation to the requirements of our own day.

Commencing, then, with the _study_ of the style, nothing seems at first sight so obvious as how to gain knowledge of such a subject; indeed, you may feel puzzled to think what there is to say on so simple a matter. “Surely,” you might say, “if a person wants to obtain a knowledge of a subject so thoroughly investigated, so popular, and brought so prominently before the public as for many years past has been the case with Gothic architecture, there is no difficulty in the world about it, nor is it worth while to waste an hour in listening to a lecture on so patent a question.” How is it, then, we may ask in return, that such a multitude of architects erect Gothic buildings, one glance at which is sufficient to show that they are ignorant of the style in which they are pretending to work?--that we see at every turn attempts at advanced development of the style which betray an utter innocence of all acquaintance with its A B C?--and that worst of all, we find the precious remnants of Mediæval art _restored_--Oh, shame on the misnomer!--by men who have never given thought enough to the subject to enable them to appreciate, even in the faintest degree, the value of the treasures committed in such false confidence to their keeping, or to form the most distant idea of their own ignorance? Surely, this is enough to prove that the study of Gothic architecture is not understood, or is grievously neglected by those who assume a knowledge of and presume to practise it.

And the converse is equally true: that the success, more or less perfect, of many others proves that the true road is known, and by a certain number is faithfully followed. My object in what I have to say is more, perhaps, to urge upon each of you to be of that number than to make any but what will appear most trite and self-evident suggestions as to what the true road is in which I ask you to walk.

In the first place, it is self-evident that Gothic architecture is only to be learned from the _old examples_. I notice, absurd as it may seem, that many young architects appear to think that it may be learned from books and by looking at modern buildings, and really pay little attention to the original sources of all our information. True, it is the part of every student to make use of _all_ the resources within his reach, and it would be absurd to undervalue the aid of books; it is also wise to look at the works of such modern architects as are worthy of confidence; but there is no source from which the style can be _really learned_ but the _ancient examples_, and to these it is impossible to devote too great an amount of study.

I would next observe that this study of old examples must be _continuous_. It is not a course of study to be followed up for a certain time and then brought to a close, but must be continued indefinitely throughout your whole course, so as to be ever _reviving_ and ever _adding to_ your knowledge. In the study of Classic architecture, though it is from the original examples that knowledge and inspiration are drawn, these examples are so far removed from us, in this country at least, that it is as a rule only possible to study from them once or twice during a whole life. The case is, happily, very different with the examples of Mediæval art: we are surrounded by them wherever we go;--they are the early monuments of our own country, the works of our forefathers, and our study of them is not the work of one strong effort at a single period of our lives, but a constantly renewing study, a fountain to which we may return again and again whenever we feel to need its refreshing influences. This, though an inestimable advantage, _may_ prove a temptation to negligence, as we are apt to let go opportunities which are ever at hand, so that we must not trust to these desultory sippings for our main supply, but must _drink deep and long_ when we have the opportunity; and more especially I would urge upon _you_ to do so _now_--in the days of your youth, while yet unencumbered by the cares of business, while your feelings are fresh and your thoughts unshackled. _This_ is the time for laying in the great stores of knowledge which must be the main supply of your future lives, and _without_ which the scant and hasty draughts obtained on chance opportunities will be of no avail, but _after_ which they will be the means of constantly refreshing and adding ever new life to the knowledge already possessed. We may say of this as of other branches of study,

“A little learning is a dangerous thing. Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.”

The conditions under which the study has to be pursued seem in some degree to preclude its being followed in a strictly _systematic_ manner. We are obliged to study buildings, of whatever date, as they may come in our way; and every building we visit is likely to be of many periods and to have undergone alterations more or less radical; so that we are almost forbidden to systematise our studies on any principle, chronological or otherwise. We must, in fact, take our examples pretty much as we happen to find them; and the best method when we set out on a sketching tour is, probably, to devote our attention to a particular district, and to follow it up, town by town and village by village, as convenience or previous information may suggest, visiting and thoroughly studying _all_ objects worthy of it which come in our way.

Nothing can be more delightful than these excursions. If you know beforehand what you are likely to meet with, the very anticipation of what each day will bring before you will add zest to your appetite for architectural enjoyment; while if you do not know what objects of interest may lie in your course, the very speculation will give relish to the search.

Here, perhaps, you come to the site of some famous monastery, less happy in its days of ruin and desertion than some which have become the favourite haunts of the artist. It has, perhaps, been for ages the stone-quarry of the district, and now only some one gable-end with its lofty lancets shows the noble scale of the ancient church. Here, it may be, nothing stands aboveground but the bases of the pillars; farther on the wall rises to the height of the window-jambs, and shows the arcading of the walls; and there the aisle wall retains the doorways leading through into the cloister--now a farm-yard--on the eastern side of which you find the three beautiful arches, the central one of which formed the approach to the chapter-house, and round this cloister you still trace the plan of the refectory and other monastic buildings. But, scanty and now humble as are the ruins, you find the details to be of the highest order of artistic refinement. The bases of the lost columns are profiled with the most studied delicacy, the few remaining doorways are perfect models of rich though unostentatious detail, the archways, perhaps, of the chapter-house entrances are of the most elegant and studied beauty. On tracing out and measuring the plan, you find its arrangement and proportions to be of the most perfect kind; and, though so little comparatively stands _in situ_, the ground is strewn here and there with masses from the superstructure, from which you may trace out the design of much which has fallen down, while the fences and agricultural buildings around are perfect storehouses of mouldings, capitals, and fragments of tracery or of groining, from which you can study the detail almost as profitably as from a perfect building.

In the next village you find, perhaps, a church of the humblest dimensions and of the most unambitious architecture, yet you trace in its simple details the proofs of its having been erected by the monks of the neighbouring convent, and you feel that, plain and unpretending as they are, they were designed by as masterly a hand as the abbey church itself, and deserve to be as carefully studied and as minutely sketched and measured. Again, farther on, you find a church of noble scale, in which you trace the work of many periods. The internal pillars and arcades show a period just emerging from the Romanesque, though its rudeness has been quite cast aside, and its mouldings are, on the contrary, of the greatest refinement. The chancel, perhaps, is of more advanced Early Pointed, the aisles, the clerestory, and the tower of later periods; and the screens and the few remaining old seats are specimens of the oak-work of the fifteenth century. Here and there in corners you find encaustic tiles, in some of which you recognise patterns you had observed in the site of the ruined abbey. In the upper parts of the window-lights and scattered among the plain glazing you find fragments of glass which would do honour to any age, and such as our glass painters would do well to study, instead of turning them out with scorn to make way for a memorial to some recently departed squire.[65] The _sedilia_ in the chancel, and the _piscinæ_ both there and in the aisles, are any of them alone objects worthy of the most careful study, and every doorway and every window possesses more or less claim upon your attention.

In another place you find less, perhaps, to interest you in the church, for it has passed through the hands of some architect famed in the county for his successful destructiveness, but you find other objects of interest. There is an old manor-house which, though mostly of Jacobean date, retains traces of early and scarce periods of domestic architecture. Nor are its later portions unworthy of your study: its brick chimneys have a beauty about them which modern architects have striven in vain to emulate; the half-timber gable fronts are models of timber construction; within there are remnants of oak panelled ceilings, of wall linings, of doors perhaps with moulded oak door-cases, of simple but well-designed chimney-piers, and all sorts of little odds and ends, all worthy of being carefully and minutely noted, whatever may be their age; for our old house architecture is often most valuably suggestive, even down to very late periods. The cottages around, too, seem to do homage to the more dignified residence, by showing here a good timbered gable-end, there a well proportioned brick chimney; indeed, I would advise the architectural tourist never to despise the cottage architecture of our villages, but to note as they pass every fragment which has escaped the hand of time, for they are most useful and instructive, and, you may depend upon it, they will not much longer exist.[66]

In another village you will, perhaps, find that the church has been the burial-place of some famous family of olden times. Under low arches in the aisles, and now almost hidden by the high pewing, you find the cross-legged effigies of the earlier members of the house, perhaps of oak, and hollowed out beneath, to prevent their warping out of shape; and if you examine these effigies, you will find them far from being the rude specimens of sculpture which our modern critics may suppose. You find in their attitude a dignity and stern nobility which our sculptors would find it not so very easy to emulate, while the chain armour, with its rigid lines, and the linen surcoat, with its more delicate foldings, are executed with a truthfulness and feeling which show that the man who worked them possessed both the soul and the hand of an artist. These are worthy of being carefully drawn, though to do this _well_ demands much time. I have heard of Stoddart giving a week to one such figure! There are, perhaps, in the same church, one or two female effigies whose drapery and pose remind you of that of Queen Eleanor at Westminster, and one or two brasses well worthy of being _copied_, rather than rubbed off; for the object of these tours is not only to obtain possession of representations of the objects of art which you meet with, but to practise and tutor your hand and eye by practically studying from them.

Then, again, as you pass through the county, you find other objects equally worthy of note; as, for instance, the old bridges which here and there the county magistrates have permitted to remain, and which travellers but rarely see because they pass _over_ them. The village or churchyard cross, the lych-gate, sometimes even the dovecote--all have claims upon your attention; and where a church is generally humble, and perhaps denuded by the mutilations of older ignorance or of modern conceit, there may yet remain a doorway, a pillar, a window or two worthy of attention. In one place it will be the tower which most excites your interest; in another the timber roofs; in a third you may luxuriate in carved screen-work, in chancel stalls, and rich nave seating; and in a fourth the great attraction may be the painted glass. In one tour you may take a homely series of churches like those of Essex, which, under an unpretending exterior often contain some of the most useful and valuable work; or going on farther in the eastern counties, you may visit the fine churches of Suffolk and Norfolk, with their noble timber roofs, their beautiful seating, and in many cases their richly and artistically coloured and embossed screens; or, taking another direction, you may follow the noble course of churches of Northamptonshire and Lincolnshire, with their charming towers and spires. Indeed, in whatever direction you go, some new and differing characteristics will reward your labour; and in every one I would urge upon you to sketch everything which strikes you as worthy of notice, whether in the church, the castle, or the cottage, not omitting the humble brick chimney-shaft, or the brick or stone or timber gable, or even the stamped plaster of the eastern counties.