Flogging off the silver: the cost of the upkeep of old buildings is tempting churches to sell their fixtures—to no long-term benefit

Apollo, Feb, 2008 by Gavin Stamp

English churches--both new and old--are more than places of worship and more than works of architecture. They are also the homes of works of art and craft, whether magnificent sculptured funerary monuments from the middle ages onwards, or the devotional fittings themselves, which may have been designed and embellished by architects, designers, painters or sculptors.

Until comparatively recently, the notion of discarding and selling such objects was unthinkable. Church furnishings and monuments were regarded as integral parts of both the history and function of a church. Reredoses or pulpits might be replaced, but that was because of developments in taste or liturgy, and usually homes would be found for them in other churches. But declining congregations, combined with the threat of theft, have prompted parishes to look at their works of art and craftsmanship as financial assets --or liabilities. The ever-pressing cost of maintenance has encouraged incumbents to consider cashing in on the art market and selling some of their treasures. A recent case of such asset-stripping has set alarm bells ringing. It concerns a 19th-century church, but the precedent it could set could damage churches of any date.

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St Peter's church at Draycott in Somerset is not particularly distinguished, although it is listed at Grade II. It was designed by C.E. Giles (not a name to conjure with) and consecrated in 1861. The building gets a brief, five-line mention in the Buildings of England volume, but Nikolaus Pevsner did not then know what we know now: that the most impressive object in the church, the massive font, carved with figures illustrating the Ages of Man inspired by sculptures in the Ducal Palace in Venice, was designed by William Burges, that extravagant romantic gothic revivalist who created Cardiff Castle for the Marquess of Bute and designed the extraordinary Tower House for himself in Melbury Road, Kensington--'massive, learned, glittering, amazing' as W.R. Lethaby described it. It turns out that the similarly massive and amazing font was given to the new church by the Revd John Augustus Yatman, the squire of nearby Winscombe, who was one of Burges's important patrons. This discovery was made only two years ago by a collector (who chooses to remain anonymous) when investigating the remarkable painted neo-medieval furniture commissioned by the Yatman brothers from Burges in the late 1850s--the subject of Jeremy Cooper's article in APOLLO for November 2005.

So far, so good. But collectors being what they are, and the modern cult of Billy Burges among Victorian enthusiasts being what it is, our anonymous collector was not content with having identified the font but also offered the parish 110,000 [pounds sterling] or it. What, however, is really shocking is that the vicar and churchwardens were tempted, arguing that taking the money was essential to meet the cost of emergency repairs, even though the roof had been repaired a few years earlier with financial help from English Heritage and the Historic Churches Preservation Trust. 'If we don't repair the church,' explains the Revd Stanley Price, 'the likelihood is it will close and then the font will be lost anyway. We are not going to let that happen', although he has not said what the parish would have done if the well-heeled Burges enthusiast had not appeared.

Fortunately, the Church of England has its own faculty jurisdiction system for controlling alterations to churches, and the sale was opposed not only by the Victorian Society but also by the Diocesan Advisory Committee and the Council for the Care of Churches. The parish, however, then petitioned the Chancellor of the Diocese of Bath and Wells, Timothy J. Briden, who, in an extraordinary judgement, while accepting that the font is a fixture, allowed its sale on the grounds of pastoral need. The Victorian Society is appealing against the judgement, arguing that, 'Only in the most extreme case should a sale be allowed of an object which is not redundant and which is part of, or intrinsic to, the church. This is the more so where (as here) the object is the greatest contributor to the aesthetic and architectural value of the church.'

The Chancellor's judgement must dismay anyone who loves churches--whether as works of art and architecture or as sacred buildings (pace many modern clergy, the two are not necessarily incompatible)--for, with such a precedent, what is there to stop a cash-strapped parish flogging their Rysbrack monument, or their stained-glass windows by Burne-Jones? 'We are a forward-looking church,' claims the Revd Mr Price, 'and the sale of a piece of our past will guarantee the work of the church in the future.' But will it? The judgement requires that if a museum does not buy the font--and surely no museum will come forward--it must be offered at public auction. It may well sell for far less than the anonymous collector offered, leaving the church without the one object that makes it interesting, and so less eligible for grant aid in future.