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VANDAL ARCHITECTS AND GOTHIC CRITICS.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE FREEMAN.

Now what is that but allowing the workman to follow their own sweet fancies under very slender guidance. And it is the proper system to adopt under one condition, that you have skilful and practical workmen for no amount of “reproduction by the aid photography” can supply the want of the “cunning hand” of the artist. And that “cunning hands” were not employed on the capitals and carved corbels in St. Patrick's, is painfully evident in the lifeless, coarse, and clumsy treatment of these details.—Letter of T. J. M'Carthy in the Dublin Builder.

Sir—Taking the above for my text, because it is the promulgation of a doctrine that contains its own refutation, and furthermore, because it reflects obliquely, if not directly, on me and my fellow workmen engaged in the restoration of St. Patrick's. I throw myself on your indulgence for a hearing in your journal. I know not whether I possess the “cunning hands” of an artist—that I do not is, perhaps, “painfully evident in the lifeless, coarse and clumsy details,” that I and my fellow-workmen have been for some two years back working out. But in candour, I must admit that I am in blissful ignorance of what really constitutes “an experienced architect of the ecclesiological school.” Working as I have been since my boyhood in works of every order and style, doomed as I have been to submit myself through life to architects, and follow them through every vagary of their brain and pencil, it remained for me and my fellow-artists to learn in this year of grace 1863 from the dicta of an Irish professor of Gothic architecture, that the craftman's artist should be the mere automation of the architect. To this dogma I take leave to demur. If I have read history aright, I have learned that a Roman legion was composed of architects, sculptors, painters, and workmen, all bound together in a common bond of unity, that the craftsman was the architect, and the architect the craftsman by turns, and that in their journies over Western Europe they had left sufficient evidences of their ability in the stupendous tunnel, arch, and road, duct and dome, to attest their greatness. They had, unquestionably, a “leader,” but “not of the ecclesiological school.” They were allowed to “to follow their own sweet fancies under very slender guidance,” and to this freedom of thought and this freedom of action may be attributed these marvels of their art that have stood the test of two thousand years, and which are still supplying inexhaustible matter for the Gothic designers and “photographing” copyists of the nineteenth century. Mr. M'Carthy's sneer at native workmen (whom Mr. Guiness is doing his best to encourage and protect) is ungenerous and unjust. If there be “sermons in stones” there must also be deep philosophy imbedded under every quaint that joint that the “cunning artist's” hands once chiseled. Can Mr. M'Carthy interpret the language of these “stone records” that have almost forgotten the name of their founders? Is he that profound Oedipus that can solve the riddle and interrogate the dub, grim gargoyls and the angelic corbels of the past? Is he the Golian seer of the Second Coming that can unfurel the long lost plan of the great St. Patrick's or exhibit in all its pristine glory, and “pretend that such things to the Cathedral in its original state?”

Alas, we are fallen on gloomy days, Star after star decays.

Allow me, Sir, to tell the Irish public and Mr. M'Carthy, whether he believes me or not, that all that human ingenuity could devise—all that the utmost caution could effect—all that the most painstaking and subtle manipulation could accomplish, has been done to my knowledge, and under my observance, and also under the direction and observance of one of the most clever and experienced foremen that ever conducted a public work. Done, I repeat, it has been by experienced and superior craftsmen in their line—done by Irishmen, who can challenge comparison in any description of work with those foreign workmen whom Mr. M'Carthy is so fond of recommending to this Irish patrons. I refrain from entering into an analytical disquisition with a man whose status is now so far above mine. My name probably would add no weight to my remarks, but I cannot pass over Mr. M'Carthy's triumph cut query—“Who ever saw till this century an Irish cross on a reduced scale surmounting a gable?” Not being sufficient of an antiquary I will refer him to Dr. Petrie on this head, and by way of rejoinder I will ask him, who ever saw a Gothic church gable corbelled out on its apex three feet from the face of the wall to provide for the support of an overtopling belfry? Can the medieval or any other period, or the “eclecticisms” of the ecclesiological school produce such another architectural anomaly? Of this Gothic example I believe Mr. M'Carthy is the putative parent, but as to its site I will let it rest in the shade. I will bestow on it the charity of “my silence.” It is sad, Sir, indeed, that one Irishman should be found capable of depreciating the talent of his own countryman and of their munificent patron. No other such instance of a princely benefactor like Mr. Guinness occurs in the annals of this country for many a long century, till we go back to Master John Le Decer, who was mayor of Dublin the years 1308, 1309, and 1324—a remarkable man, whose princely munificence bears a striking analogy to that of Mr. Benjamin Lee Guinness. We should hail the appearance of a man like Mr. Guinness as a glorious phenomenon. If some small imperfection might occur in the carrying out of his collosal undertaking in the restoration of St. Patrick's—obstructed as those works have been by many obstacles, retarted, perhaps, by difficulties—difficulties surmounted as quick as they appear, there should be some allowances made—for what earthly undertaking is perfection? In conclusion, let me remark, that I speak as an artist and a workman, not an architect; still of architectural details I will not plead ignorance. So long as the social condition and welfare of the workman is looked upon as a matter of secondary importance, so long will architecture as an art be deterioating. John Ruskin, the great Gothic critic, has said some noble words on this pregnant and suggestive subject. In the words of another writer I would ask Mr. M'Carthy how long must we still have occasion to exclaim—“The world dishonours its workmen, stones its prophets, crucifies its Saviours, and shouts 'till the welkin rings out long live violence and fraud.”—I remain, Sir, your obedient servant,
Thomas Read, stonecutter and carver, (at present engaged on the restoration of St. Patrick's.)
3, Leary's-place, Townsend-street,
Dublin, January 28, 1863