Chapter 2 discusses shifts in Ottoman architecture after Mehmed I commissioned the construction of this mosque-zāviye complex in Bursa in 1419. This period shows the beginning of a new engagement with the Saljuq past and the Timurid present in Ottoman architecture, leading to deep stylistic and technical transformations.

Chapter 3 discusses how elements of Mamluk architecture were introduced into Ottoman architecture and explores the broader interconnections of intellectuals and makers in the fifteenth century. In particular, it addresses the ambiguous and flexible roles of workers and overseers on construction sites and the use of paper for architectural design.

It has become clear that in the sixteenth century, architecture was made more uniform in imperial projects as a result of the Ottoman Empire’s performance as a centralized state. Eventually, the fifteenth century receded into a distant past that was hard to comprehend from the point of view of the empire’s so-called Classical Age. This is true for history, reshaped by sixteenth-century historians in ways that made sense in their own present, and it is also true for the built environment, which was transformed by later uses and perceived in new ways. This aspect of the long-term development of the Ottoman Empire with its closely intertwined administrative, imperial, and artistic interventions emerges in the material politics of the architecture analyzed in this book.

I have followed the trajectory of Ottoman architecture as it unfolded from the late fourteenth to the early sixteenth centuries.

The buildings designed and built by the architect Sinan (d. 1588) in the imperial capital Istanbul, with their stripped-down aesthetic of impressive volumes and monumental domes, have become the epitome of Ottoman architecture. Active from the 1530s until the 1580s, Sinan designed monuments at both the large scale required by the sultans and the smaller one accorded to viziers, admirals, and princesses, as seen in the mosques built for Sultan Süleyman the Magnificent in 1550–77 and for one of his grand viziers, Rüstem Pasha, in 1563. Sinan’s work and the work of the office of imperial architects (hassa mimarları) define our understanding of architecture in the Ottoman Empire from the sixteenth century onward, and they were integral parts of the functioning of a centralized empire that tightly regulated its administration and its aesthetic outlook.

Never before has a monograph addressed late-Georgian church building, and there will be many revelations. The study begins around 1790, when, after decades of only limited church building, there was a stunning outburst of imaginative designing which produced churches of a quality almost without parallel anywhere in Europe according to Terry Friedman; it ends in 1840 with the birth of Ecclesiology, which took Anglican worship in a very different direction. This was a half-century when the scale of building was massive and when almost all the country's leading architects were involved. Among approximately 1,500 new churches are some outstanding examples, buildings of the very highest order architecturally, for instance St Luke, Chelsea (James Savage, 1820–4) (Fig 0.1; see Fig. 14.25) and St Chad, Shrewsbury (George Steuart, 1790–2) (Fig 0.2; see Fig. 9.7). However, the late-Georgian church remains one of the most neglected topics in architectural history and there is much to be discovered and celebrated.

These Anglican churches were the most numerous among all major public building types during this half-century and for many a community, the new church was their most prominent building and one certainly to be celebrated. However, in the early years of Victoria's reign – with the plaster barely dry in some of them – these buildings and the liturgy for which they were carefully designed were pilloried mercilessly by the Ecclesiologists, dynamic Anglican reformers, active from 1839 and intent on (literally) building on the theology of the Oxford Movement to push the Church of England in a Higher direction. This they did with remarkable success. In order to promote the cause, supporters sought to denigrate the architectural and liturgical traditions their generation inherited. In particular, they despised the late-Georgians’ auditory worship, their ‘rational religion’, the often restrained, predictable services and the ‘preaching box’ churches built to contain them. Instead, the group encouraged greater ceremonial and the reintroduction of a number of pre-Reformation liturgical practices, while architects were expected to follow medieval precedents in both the layout and the details of their churches. ‘Gothic authenticity’ became the order of the day and there was certainly no place for a Classical design with its pagan connotations. Withering attacks regularly included such phrases as ‘wretched’, ‘absolutely wretched’, ‘very objectionable’ and ‘miserable’ to describe late-Georgian churches.

The five years following Waterloo witnessed relatively little new church building, but postwar confidence heralded a remarkably productive period of diligent and thorough research as a prelude to future construction: parliamentary debates and data gathering; the establishment of the Church Building Commission in 1818, which stimulated serious enquiries about the best ways to provide additional churches; and the establishment of the ICBS, also in 1818, which sought to raise private funding to increase accommodation. The publications of Richard Yates and letters in, for instance, the Gentleman's Magazine and Quarterly Review, kept the issues before a huge audience. The result was that, from around 1820, communities across the country began to witness church building on an unprecedented scale.

Activity in this period in London and southeast Lancashire – two areas which witnessed extensive building – is addressed in the next two chapters as case studies; here the focus is on building endeavours elsewhere led, heroically, by the Commissioners’ projects which reached out nationwide – many by ambitious London-based architects – and these set new standards of design that both inspired and educated local architectural talent. There were also some exceptional medium- sized rural churches paid for by enlightened landowners who provided generous budgets and employed the country's best architects. However, there were also many more modest schemes – perhaps designed by a local amateur, cleric or builder – that are also deserving of attention. It is clear that there was little real innovation in either style or planning; conservative attitudes prevailed on both counts. On the question of style, Classicism retained a certain popularity, especially in genteel communities, but the majority of new churches outside London were by now Gothic. There were also the occasional instances of Romanesque. So far as plans are concerned, the vast majority of the new churches followed the Wren/Gibbs rectangle, no doubt taking a lead from the Commissioners. Of the more radical alternatives, there were a handful of octagonal designs, some cruciform examples and just one that was semicircular.

Classical examples

One of the decade's most interesting churches is Holy Trinity, Hotwells, Bristol (C. R. Cockerell, 1829–30, bombed and much altered internally) (Fig. 13.2). The entrance was below the tower in the centre of the south front, which led to a central, domed crossing with longer arms reaching east and west.

A typical church built in 1850 differed significantly from one erected in 1830: its various parts would be separately articulated; its chancel would be longer and raised on steps; its roofs more steeply pitched; entrance would probably be through a south porch; Gothic detailing would be more scholarly; galleries were unlikely, although appropriated pews would disappear only slowly. And by the mid-century, there were already ambitions to ‘improve’ churches carefully designed to accommodate late-Georgian auditory worship, or even demolish them and replace them with something more ‘correct’ and better suited to the new imperatives. It was around 1840 that there appeared the beginnings of a coordinated initiative that would profoundly alter the course of English church building and worship; very quickly the certainties of late-Georgian Anglicanism were being abandoned. This is therefore a convenient place to end this study, and in this chapter briefly explore that heady moment when the ‘new’ ideas began to move from the periphery to the centre of debate.

Was what happened around 1840 evolution or revolution? That change occurred through the 1840s is indisputable; the interesting question is how the change came about. Certainly there was a degree of revolution as the combined endeavours of the Cambridge Camden Society, the Oxford Movement and the publications of A.W.N. Pugin began to produce real revisions in the design and arrangement of churches.

The Cambridge Camden Society – whose members and supporters are often referred to as the Ecclesiologists – was formed late in 1839. It was an undergraduate group intent on pushing the Church of England in a Higher direction and introducing pre-Reformation architecture and internal arrangements to facilitate it. In a number of respects, it was building on the earlier theological debates within the Oxford Movement – whose followers were often referred to as the Tractarians – usually dated from 1833. Central to Oxford thinking was moving the Church away from being an arm of the state into something more spiritual and sacramental. Church building thus became part of a wider liturgical movement, with many Tractarian clergymen – or at least ones with Tractarian sympathies – taking a leading role in the restoration of an old church, or the building of a new one, especially from the early 1840s.

The Battle of Waterloo in 1815 marked the end of a near quarter-century of wars with France, during which there had been only limited church building, but the population had grown by over two million and, in addition, many people had moved from rural to urban settlements. The need for more churches was both desperate and better understood, the latter thanks, in part, to the publications of the Revd Richard Yates, discussed in Chapter 1, which brought home to all the shortage of places, and the widely perceived dangers to the fabric of society of not addressing the issues. In 1818 the Church Building Act was passed to provide £1,000,000 of government finance for building – augmented by a further £500,000 in 1824 – administered by a board of Commissioners. Also in 1818 was formed the Society for Promoting the Enlarging and Building of Churches and Chapels, which quickly became known as the Church Building Society and in 1828 as the Incorporated Church Building Society (ICBS). Its aim was to secure private donations to enlarge existing churches and, to a lesser extent, build new ones. There were also numerous other initiatives from individuals keen to build a new church using the conventional funding model of garnering subscriptions. Peace brought renewed interest in church building, and after years of only limited activity, a new generation of clerics and worshippers endeavoured to address this pressing need.

By around 1820 all three of these funding strands – the Commissioners, the Church Building Society and individuals – had become commendably dynamic; it was a dynamism that would last through the century. Now, for the first time, church building was being considered at a national level. On an unprecedented scale, the shortfall of provision was analysed in detail, debated rationally and solutions identified. And often these initiatives were usefully recorded by committee clerks and discussed in publications. For the first time, there were clear and unambiguous statements about what should be done and the architectural implications of doing so. There were also a number of published designs to help inform discussion. In this chapter, the focus is on the Commissioners’ and the ICBS's impact on architectural matters: style, size and plan shapes. However, the need for economy cannot be exaggerated; but this was not parsimony, as savings on one project meant additional funding for another one.