Our Homeland Churches and How to Study Them — Inside the Classic

A Guidebook with an Edge

Heath's handbook belongs to the Homeland Handbooks series, designed for 'the Encouragement of Touring in Great Britain.' But it reads less like a neutral reference than a spirited lecture. The author's opinions are never far from the surface. He describes the Elizabethan and Jacobean styles as 'clumsy imitations of the Flemish, French and Italian Renaissance,' and reserves particular scorn for Horace Walpole's Gothic follies. When discussing the proposed conversion of Westminster Abbey into an Italian church—a plan by Inigo Jones and later Hawkesmore—Heath writes that 'we cannot be too thankful that this abominable suggestion was never carried out.' Such language is unusual in a guidebook and gives the text a distinctive, combative character.

The book's structure is chronological, moving from early British churches through Saxon, Norman, and the Gothic styles to Renaissance and later work. Each chapter focuses on a period or feature—spires, stained glass, crypts—and is illustrated with photographs and drawings by the author and Ethel M. Heath. The glossary and bibliography at the end suggest the book was intended for serious study, not casual browsing.

Comparative Judgments as a Method

Heath's most revealing passages are those where he sets one building against another. His discussion of St. Paul's Cathedral is a case in point. He acknowledges that its interior is 'extremely gloomy' compared to St. Peter's, but argues that 'few, if any, Italian churches can be said to surpass it' in architectural detail. The balance is delicate: he concedes that 'everything having been sacrificed' to external effect, yet still defends the building's overall composition. This willingness to weigh strengths and weaknesses—rather than simply cataloguing features—gives the prose a critical edge.

Similarly, when discussing Wren's St. Stephen's, Walbrook, Heath calls it 'generally considered to be Wren's masterpiece' and praises its interior as 'very beautiful.' But he does not stop there; he adds a technical note about the four rows of Corinthian columns and the small dome. The pattern is consistent: Heath first states a judgment, then supports it with specific architectural details. This method makes the handbook useful for a reader who wants both an opinion and the evidence behind it.

The Limits of the Excerpts

The available excerpts cover only the opening matter, the chapter on Renaissance and later styles, and the Project Gutenberg boilerplate. They do not include the earlier chapters on Saxon, Norman, or Gothic architecture, nor the sections on church furniture, bells, spires, stained glass, or crypts. Consequently, we cannot assess how Heath handles the medieval periods that form the bulk of his book. His treatment of the Renaissance, however, suggests a strong preference for Gothic: he praises Pugin as 'a thorough mediævalist' and credits Barry and Pugin with bringing 'some kind of order out of this chaos.' It is reasonable to infer that the earlier chapters are more sympathetic to their subject matter.

The excerpts also reveal little about the book's illustrations. The frontispiece shows the 'Foundations of a Romano-British Church' at Silchester, and later plates include a 'Fine Perpendicular Tower' and examples of windows and buttresses. But without seeing the full set, we cannot evaluate how the images support the text. The author's own drawings, mentioned on the title page, may add a personal touch that the excerpts do not capture.

Readers approaching Our Homeland Churches should come prepared for strong opinions as well as solid facts. Heath's handbook rewards those who enjoy architectural criticism with an edge—but it is best used alongside a modern guide that can update its judgments and fill in the gaps left by a century of scholarship. The glossary and bibliography remain useful starting points, and the chronological structure makes it easy to dip into a particular period. Just be ready to disagree with the author now and then.