Chapter XVI: Conclusion

The great fascination of monumental brasses can only be realised by studying them on the spot. One of the best methods is to take rubbings of them.

Most of our readers doubtless know the method, but since a few may not, some particulars are appended.

A piece of cobblers wax should be procured from some boot repairer. The black kind is the only one which produces satisfactory results on white paper. It can usually be got in small lumps about the size of a halfpenny across. Melt down six of these to make a single ball. Procure a roll of plain white ceiling paper, the thinner the better, from a paper-hanger’s. It should cost from 6_d._ to 8_d._ according to quality. A penny nail-brush and a duster complete the outfit.

First ask permission from the Rector or Vicar. This should not be omitted, and will avoid unpleasantness. The clergy are usually most considerate in the matter, and very rarely refuse. But naturally they do not like absolute strangers to take rubbings without first asking permission. So far as the writer knows, permission is refused only at _two_ churches, though probably there are a few others. In those cases the reason given was that it wore away the brass. We have never seen any real cause to think this can be correct. If we did, we should be the last to advocate brass-rubbing.

There _is_ a kind of rubbing which does damage. Well-meaning vergers have been known to _polish_ an old brass. This is absolutely destructive of the engraving.

Permission granted, remove the mat which probably covers and protects it. Brush off the accumulated dust, finishing off with the duster. Then carefully spread the paper over it and fix it down by weights round the edge. For these, hassocks are handy; prayer-books should be avoided, their misuse causes offence.

Then rub the paper down well with a _clean_ part of the duster, so as to mark the main features and edges, and after that the rubbing with the wax ball itself will be easy.

The aim should be to produce a clear, dark impression. To get it, the rubbing must be hard and the paper must not slip. If there is a canopy, it will probably be found that the wax will mark parts of the paper beyond the design itself. In such a case, the rubbing should be cut out and mounted on paper or calico. Paste is better than gum for this purpose. The rubbing should always be polished by rubbing over with a clean part of the duster _before_ being removed from the brass.

The completed rubbing may be mounted on rollers.

A good way of cataloguing, is to photograph each rubbing, mount a print in a book, and then number and name print and rubbing alike.

The proper treatment of the brasses themselves demands considerable attention. We spend huge sums on buying old pictures by foreigners, yet we take no trouble to preserve these matchless works of art, the work of our own ancestors.

There have been four great periods of destruction, each with its own characteristics. Indeed, from the Reformation down to the present day the work has gone on intermittently.

During the sixteenth century, the extreme Reformers united with those bent on plunder to rob our churches of these monuments. Brass has at all times been a valuable metal, and when religious zeal is combined with greed of gain, it is not surprising that thousands of brasses perished. The destruction of the great monastic churches brought with it of necessity the spoliation of their tombs which stood within; but even the parish churches were not safe. So keen was the thirst for plunder that the ministers of Edward VI confiscated even the church plate and the money for the poor.

Elizabeth,--all credit to her,--disapproved of such conduct and ordered that the plate should be replaced, though at whose cost is unknown; and, further, that all monuments broken down should be restored. If possible, this was to be done at the cost of those who had wrought the damage, otherwise the parish was to bear the burden.

The latter command seems to have been but slightly enforced, and there are but few examples of Elizabethan restoration of earlier monuments or brasses, though a few do exist.

During the seventeenth century, the Parliamentarians wrought tremendous havoc, but have had more than their fair share credited to them. Nearly as much destruction was wrought during the eighteenth century through neglect, and often these losses are laid to the door of the Puritans by the modern guide.

But perhaps the most lamentable devastations are those wrought in the nineteenth century. They were usually done by those who claimed to be “restoring” their parish churches. For example, while restoring a certain country church some twenty or thirty years ago, the architect found there were several old brasses which were being abominably treated. He informed a well-known firm of art metal workers, who sent down one of the partners. He found the workmen using one of the figures as a frying-pan over a wood fire in the churchyard! He rescued it, and many others which had been thrown out into the churchyard. Then he brought the matter to the notice of the incumbent, who absolutely refused to have anything to do with them, and declared that he would not have them in the church. Further, he told the partner that he could take them away. The latter hesitated to do so, and left them behind. A few days later, he received a box containing them. Not knowing what to do with them, he stored them away and forgot all about them.

Some twenty years later, they were re-discovered by his son, who showed them to some friends, and in the end he returned them to the church, suggesting that they should be restored to their proper places. He never even received an acknowledgement, but learnt later they were still lying neglected in the box.

The little value attached by many to brasses may be judged from the fact that Gilbert Scott replaced the fine brass at St John’s College, Cambridge, beneath the organ loft; and Pearson hid another away in the crypt of Truro. Often this scant respect was not shown, and they were sold as old metal, or, at best, torn from their stone matrices and fixed to a wall.

This latter is a constant trick of restorers, and should be strongly discouraged. Within the last year it has happened at Merstham, Surrey, and, indeed, hardly a year passes but it takes place somewhere. Firstly, the stone should not be removed at all, if in its original spot it marks the grave of the deceased, and this alone should be a sufficient reason for not removing it. If it must be removed and placed against the wall, the whole stone should be moved, and not merely the brass. Brass and stone are one and should not be separated. They may fitly be compared to a jewel and its setting.

Moreover, in raising them, the brasses become bent and twisted, and parts are nearly always lost. Further, if in its original matrix, one can fairly accurately judge of what is missing and, if it is desired, restore it.

Sometimes the excuse given for the removal is that it is to preserve them from the wear of people walking over them. This can be far better done by placing carpet or matting over them.

Even where only the matrix remains, it should be carefully preserved, as it is often of considerable interest and always the remnant of ancient work. They are of far more interest than a series of slabs of black and white marble or a series of modern machine-made tiles.

In some cases they might be carefully restored. The matrix gives a very faithful guide, and sometimes descriptions still exist. In the case where only part of the brass is lost, this should most certainly be done. Recently the author helped to restore an old brass at Shere, Surrey, the cost of the work being most generously borne by the Rector (Mr Hill).

John Touchet, Lord Audley, was executed on the charge of high treason by Henry VII in 1490. An altar tomb was set up in his memory about 1525. It showed a figure in armour with a marginal inscription on a chamfered edge. About 1745 the tomb was destroyed, and the top slab laid in the floor of the chancel. As the chamfered edge would thus be hidden, some person stole the brass fillet. About 1800 the lower half of the effigy was also stolen. When the church was restored in 1896, a parishioner gave the Rector a piece of the inscription which she had found hidden away in an old cottage she had recently bought. Not knowing to what figure it belonged, he fastened it to a window sill. Recently the writer drew his attention to the fact that it undoubtedly belonged to the mutilated figure, and suggested that a fresh matrix should be cut round the edge of the stone, and that the remainder of the inscription and the legs should be restored. To this he agreed, and the work was carefully executed by Messrs Gawthorp of 16, Long Acre. Fortunately the piece of inscription contained almost all the personal details save the year of Touchet’s death. This was discovered from documentary evidence to be 1490. A description of the legs was also found, taken just before they were stolen. This was fortunate, as one would not otherwise have known that there was a greyhound _between_ his feet. Our thanks are due to Mr Mill Stephenson for much valuable advice and information. Every care was taken to make the new work as exactly like the old in colour and engraving as possible. But to prevent deception, each new piece was marked on the back with the date, 1911, and, further, a careful rubbing was taken before the restoration, showing the old work and the matrix, and this was framed and hung in the South Porch.

The matrix of a fine cross with a prior kneeling at the foot was restored some years ago at Ely.

Where a brass is loose, it should be refixed. Palimpsests may cause some difficulty. By far the best method is to have careful electrotypes made of the reverses and fastened up in the church, and the originals should then be permanently refixed in their matrices.

One cannot close without emphasizing the terrible destruction of these priceless works of art.

In St Albans Abbey, a few years ago, no less than 270 matrices were counted. Durham Cathedral, once paved with brasses, has not _one_ left!

These matrices should be preserved, and, as yet, a complete catalogue of them has not been made. It is to be hoped that some antiquary will ere long undertake the task. There are still a great number--perhaps 6000--and often of unique interest. In several cases these slabs are older than the earliest surviving brasses. For example, the earliest of all is at St Paul’s, Bedford. It is believed to commemorate Sir Simon de Beauchamp, 1208, mentioned by Leland. There was a large cross 5 ft. 9 in. × 2 ft. 6 in. springing from a plate with an inscription, and having a small shield on either side of the head. There was also a border fillet.

Again, there is a splendid matrix at Durham, now carefully protected beneath a thick carpet. It is to Bp. Beaumont, 1333, and is larger and finer than any brass now extant, measuring 15 ft. × 10 ft. As a very complete description of it exists in a sixteenth century book, it would be comparatively easy to restore it to its former magnificence. And it must have been a splendid brass! The bishop is in full canonicals and a small angel censing him on either side, he stands beneath a fine triple canopy with super-canopy and saints. The shafts contain niches with the apostles, and on either side are side shafts connected to the canopy by flying buttresses and containing twelve figures of his ancestors. There are two lions beneath his feet and a border fillet, besides other interesting details. Is it too much to hope that some day money will be forthcoming to restore it?

Though we advocate a judicious restoration, it must be _well_ done, or not at all. We all know the harm that has been wrought by zealous “restorers” of our churches, and we must not allow the same evil to befall the brasses.

The right lines to follow, in the author’s opinion, have already been described. The _wrong_ way is to break the following rules:

(1) Never destroy any of the original brass.

(2) Never destroy the original matrix, and always let it act as
a guide.

(3) Be sure and use the proper alloy. The old latten is of
different alloy from the ordinary brass of modern commerce,
which is much softer.

(4) Do not get an amateur or a local artist, who has had little
or no experience in this kind of work, to do it. Go to one of
the few firms which have made a special study of this kind of
work. They may seem a little expensive, but in the end it is
well worth the difference.

(5) If you want advice, write to the Monumental Brass Society,
London, or, if you prefer it, to the author, who would always
be glad to help in any way he could.

(6) See if there are any rubbings or description extant in the
British Museum or elsewhere.

Perhaps this is an appropriate place at which to draw attention to the latent possibilities of a revival of brasses for modern memorials. When one reflects on the over-crowded state of some of our finest cathedrals with hideous and cumbersome monuments, the desirability of this revival becomes apparent. They would take up practically no space, and therefore would not interfere with the architecture of the building, as do the statues in Westminster Abbey. They are in keeping with the Gothic style of most of our churches. If good, they can be of considerable beauty and interest; if bad, a mat readily hides them from view.

One difficulty undoubtedly obtrudes itself, viz. modern dress. However, both Church and Army lend themselves to picturesque and fortuitous treatment. For the civilian, university gowns, mayoral and civic robes and even court dress are quite amenable to the engraver’s art.

As to women’s attire, a simple arrangement of veil or scarf about the head would be acceptable and dignified, in conjunction with garments of flowing and harmonious lines. Grotesque contours and eccentric mannerisms of attire would naturally be avoided. In this matter one need but follow in the steps of the old engravers.

The faces would either be portraits or not, as seemed desirable to those who had the brass laid down.

Two types might be followed:

(1) The old Gothic, with the figures recumbent, in which case
the brass should be placed on the floor.

(2) The Renaissance, with the figure kneeling, as in many of
the Elizabethan examples. These should be affixed to the wall.
The faults of these latter are usually:

(_a_) Thin metal.

(_b_) Too much detail.

(_c_) Lack of depth in graving.

All these defects could be avoided to-day.

Certain modern specimens do exist, but cannot, as a rule, be placed in the front rank. An exception must be made in favour of a modern brass on the old lines laid down by Messrs Gawthorp at Islip, Northants. It is meant to replace a fifteenth century brass long since entirely vanished. A civilian and his wife, in the dress of c. 1460, stand beneath a double canopy, and the effect is most pleasing.

There is also a rather fine one to W. S. Sanders, Rector of St Nicholas, Guildford, 1901, and two in Westminster Abbey.

But so far no really fine example showing the figures in modern dress has been laid down. In the author’s opinion, it is to be hoped that the art of enamelling brasses will not be restored to favour at the same time. Nor does he consider that the engraved lines should be filled in with coloured matter or black wax.

In conclusion; if even a few, by reading this little book, are persuaded to study and help to preserve the ancient relics of the past, the author will feel that it has not been written in vain.

There is undoubtedly a decided awakening of interest in the subject, but it behoves us to exert ourselves to make _all_ realize how priceless are the four thousand which alone survive out of the large number (some 150,000, including inscriptions) which were at one time or another laid down.