before the appearance of Mr T. G. Jackson's "Modern Gothic Architecture," and the whole of my book was written and revised before I had seen his. Had it not been so, I should probably have said much less than I have done upon those matters of which he has also treated. But it is of little moment; one book may be read where the other is not, and there can come no harm from the same truths being urged from rather different points of view. We have both said some things which have often been said before, but they will have to be repeated yet a great many times before they produce much visible result.

I have confined myself to the consideration of parish churches. Much that I have written applies equally to collegiate and other churches; but I have preferred not to discuss their special requirements, because almost every one has its own.

Some of the points noticed are so simple and apparently self-evident that the deliberate arguing of them seems almost silly; but it is justified by their being so continually neglected in practice.

Perhaps a few readers may observe that in some works carried out under my direction something may be found which is condemned in this book. I admit it, and plead in defence that an architect cannot always have his own way. There is a sort of idea of orthodoxy attached to certain ways of doing things which makes the clergy particularly tenacious of them; and

I ought rather to be grateful for having so often been allowed to depart from them, than surprised that in one or two cases I have been obliged to submit to them.

J. T. M.

3 DELAHAY STREET, GREAT GEORGE STREET, S. W.,

January 1, 1874.

MODERN PARISH CHURCHES.

SECTION I.

INTRODUCTORY.

"HOUSES are built to live in, not to look on," says Lord Bacon, and in like manner it may be said, "Churches are built for use, not for ornament." Neither in houses nor churches ought appearance to be neglected, but the designer of each of them ought to be guided by a consideration of the purposes to which they are to be applied. This seeming truism is generally accepted so far as houses are concerned; but in the case of churches it now receives very little attention. This is a church-building age. During the last fifty years there have been more new churches erected than in any period of equal length since the thirteenth century; but out of so many there are very few with which great fault may not be found.

Some improvement has certainly been made on the old preaching-house type of the Georgian period; galleries have been abolished, chancels of a sort have been

A

added, and a certain standard of what is called correctness has been reached. Indeed, some churches have been erected which leave very little to be desired; but they are so exceptional that their success seems the result of accident rather than of forethought. And, so far as I am aware, no attempt has been made to examine the requirements of a modern parish church with a view to providing a plan which will best meet them.

Most church architects seem entirely to ignore utility, and to be guided by a knowledge, more or less imperfect, of our Middle-Age churches, modified in some cases by a few modernisms picked up during holiday rambles on the Continent. These, and a certain vague nothing, called symbolism, are all which make up the justmentioned "correctness." No modernism appears to be consciously admitted, unless it is imported. If the conditions of the services and congregation were now exactly like those which produced the old churches, no harm could come from our copying them. But though our services are mainly the same, the mode of celebrating them is much modified, and the condition of the congregations is totally changed. There is much in the old churches which we do not want, and they lack other things which we require. Consequently, this modern revival of the dead letter of mediævalism is productive, not only of inconvenience, but often of absurdity. We may see in one church the chancel seats hung on hinges and provided with misericords. These are now of course

1 Small bracket-shaped seats, upon which, by indulgence (misericordia, whence the name), it was allowed to rest at certain times, when the rubric

never wanted, which is fortunate; for, in the case alluded to, they are so cunningly contrived as to present their edges to any one attempting to sit upon them. At another place may be seen a tall niche in the wall, holding a processional cross near the principal entrance to the church. This is even more absurd than the other because there is a greater affectation of knowingness about it. Of old, when a priest visited a parishioner for the purpose of administering any of the sacraments, he started from the church; and the cross was carried before him by the clerk. It was consequently convenient that the cross should be kept near the door from which they set out, and in a few old churches a long niche is to be found there provided for that purpose. Our modern architect seeing this niche, and having discovered its use, at once reproduces it as a new and undoubtedly "correct" arrangement; never reflecting that now the cross is used only in the chancel, or in processions which

The

required standing. I never met with an English name for them. correct name, miserere, is neither English nor Latin, and altogether unmeaning. Having touched on nomenclature, it may be as well to remark that most of the fine words which " correct people so love are wrongly applied, and nearly all of them are unnecessary. Why talk about a hagioscepe? The old English word squint will do just as well. Why are clerks in many churches dubbed acolytes, when there is not one ordained acolyte amongst them? This affectation is mischievous because of the prejudice which it excites. The present disturbance about St Barnabas, Pimlico, is a very good case in point. If the authorities of the church had simply announced that they were going to put a canopy over the altar, it is very unlikely that any one would have made the least objection. But when the British Philistine stumbles against the awful word Baldacchino, the very great length of it, as he spells it through, frightens him out of his five wits, and conjures up before him the horrid spectre which his grandfathers used to associate with brass money and wooden shoes.