TRANSACTIONS OF THE ARCHITECTURAL INSTITUTE OF SCOTLAND,

SESSION 1855-1856.

INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS.

BY

THE RIGHT REV. BISHOP TERROT.

[Read at the Annual General Meeting of the Architectural Institute of Scotland, held on 29th November 1855.]

GENTLEMEN,

ON looking over the Transactions of our Society, I observe that two friends of my own, whose professional engagements rendered it probable that their knowledge of architecture would not be very technical and precise, have addressed your meetings, and have done it successfully. But for these precedents, I should certainly have adhered to the answer which I first gave to the application from your Council, to deliver the opening address of the Session, which answer was, that I felt myself quite incompetent for the task; and even with these precedents, I still feel that there is something preposterous-I use the word in its strict derivative sense, as qualifying any arrangement where that which ought to be last is put first for example, when the cart is placed before the horse—that there is something preposterous, I say, in calling upon a mere amateur to talk for an hour upon Architecture, before a society composed principally of gentlemen who have made

VOL. V.

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as,

it the professional study of their lives. I have, however, in some degree quieted my misgivings, by the consideration, that as there exists a common sense by which thousands who know nothing of formal logic do contrive, in a rough way, to arrive at true conclusion, so there may be, and I think there is, a common taste, whereby the minds of educated and thinking men do generally agree in approving or condemning any architectural work to which their attention is directed, though they may be all ignorant of the mechanical laws or the aesthetic principles which guided the architect. The existence and the workings of this common taste, the architect is bound to take into consideration, both for the sake of the public and for his own; and it is in the belief that I possess just my individual share of this common quality, and nothing more, that I now attempt to comply with the wishes of your Council.

I have just mentioned two points which the professional architect must have studied carefully-1st, The necessary laws of matter; and 2nd, Esthetics, or the principles of the beauty of form. Of the first of these as applied to Architecture, the class of which I profess myself to be a member, is confessedly very ignorant. We do not, for example, know the strength of the various materials employed in a building, nor consequently can we say what width may safely be given to an aperture surmounted by a horizontal lintel of sandstone, of marble, of wood, or of iron. We do not know what lateral pressure a flattened or segmental arch impresses upon its abutments; and, consequently, are ignorant what force of counter pressure, what width and solidity of buttress, is requisite for the security of the arch. But then it ought to be remembered by the architect, that though very ignorant, we are not entirely ignorant. We know that there is a limit beyond which

a horizontal beam, even of the strongest material, cannot support even itself; and, therefore, we feel a painful sense of insecurity when we have any suspicion that this limit has been approached. We know that a flattened arch of heavy materials could not be supported but by a sufficient counter pressure; and, therefore, we feel uncomfortable under such an arch, unless we see that the means of counter pressure have been provided. Such architectural discomforts I have myself experienced. I recollect being many years ago in a concert room at York, then newly erected, the ceiling of which was horizontal, and ostensibly composed of slabs of various richly coloured marbles. These, if they had been what they pretended to be, could have been kept in their place only by some very powerful mechanism, of whose existence no sign appeared; and thus the effect was a painful feeling of incongruity and insecurity; while, if the ceiling had really been what it assumed to be, and had been transferred to the floor, the effect might have been rich and pleasing. I may mention another instance nearer home. The church in which I officiate (St. Paul's, York Place) was built from the designs of the late Mr. Elliott. It is, as most of you know, in the English perpendicular style, and is, I believe, generally an imitation of St. Mary's Church at Beverley-(those who know Beverley only by its fine Minster, must not suppose that I am referring to it)—that is to say, of one arm of it; for St. Mary's is a cross church, with a central tower. Considering that St. Paul's was built very early in the present century, before the taste of the public or the study of architects had been much directed to the restoration of the Pointed or Gothic style, I think it must be allowed, that Mr. Elliott had a good artistic feeling for the beauty of the style which he had undertaken to imitate.

But the point to which I

wish to direct your attention, is the internal ceiling.

It

is in form such as the wood roofs, common in the perpendicular churches of Norfolk and Suffolk, and which appear in the University churches of Oxford and Cambridge. The beams rest upon a tablet at each side, meet in the centre at a very obtuse angle, and are there inserted into a longitudinal beam, running the whole length of the church. As a support to the whole, there are arches, with open spandrels, above each pair of opposite piers, resting upon shafts continued through the piers down to the ground. This description is, I fear, very untechnical, but I hope it is sufficiently clear to make it understood, that nothing of the kind could ever have been executed in stone. What the substance of the ceiling at St. Paul's is, I cannot say; but it is covered with a coating of plaster, and that again was coloured and lined in imitation of stone, producing, to my mind at least, much of the uncomfortable impression produced by the marble ceiling at York. It has latterly been painted in imitation of oak, and I now feel in comfortable security. It may be proper to notice, that these are instances of architectural deception.

Now, though I would not push so far as some writers have done the condemnation of architectural falsehood, nor speak of it as actually a moral crime, still I think a highminded architect will discourage it. False windows, false doors, false façades, all impress the mind with an unsatisfactory feeling of uselessness and incongruity. And as in such matters, no one scruples to employ the terms of moral science, I may be allowed to say, that not merely truth but candour is desirable. It has been received as a maxim, that the highest art is to conceal art—Ars est celare artem. Now, when or where this is true, I shall not stop to inquire. It is enough to say, that it is not true in respect of Architec

ture. Art, true art, is a noble and beautiful thing, and instead of being concealed, it ought to be fully exhibited. Trick and artifice may be concealed, but it were better that they did not exist at all. True art consists, not in concealing that which is constructivly necessary, but in transforming it into a beauty. Let us, for the sake of an example, consider and contrast the side of a Norman with that of a perpendicular church. I am not going to compare the merits of the two styles, nor to eulogize the one at the expense of the other. I pity the man who can admire only one style, even though that style should undoubtedly be the very best in the world.

An ingenious Frenchman, in a dissertation upon styles in literature, observed, that all styles are good except the tiresome; and with a feeling akin to his, I am inclined to think, that when a building is unsatisfactory, the evil arises not from its being in this or that style, but from its being the work of an architect who did not feel the beauty nor understand the resources of the style which he had adopted.

But to return to our example. In the Norman church, we find walls of great thickness, unweakened by any large apertures; and resting upon these, we find a roof of comparatively light materials. The wall, then, is sufficient to sustain the strain upon it, and no buttress appears. In the perpendicular church, while the wall is slighter and weakened by large apertures, the roof is, in many cases, of much heavier material-it is a stone vault, which, from its flatness, requires considerable support from without. Hence arose the necessity for buttresses of great depth. They were not introduced for the sake of ornament, but because they were essential to the stability of the building. Had they been merely a great thickening of the wall, they would have served their structural purpose, but would have been utterly devoid