William Morris: Religion, Architecture and the Pre-Raphaelite Movement
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Maggie Langford │ Anglia Ruskin University
In mid-eighteenth century Britain, as the conflicts of industrialisation had begun to destroy the tranquillity of a nation doomed towards mass production, whose desecration bore insult upon a society that had felt deep impressions of doubt during the industrial revolution, it becomes important to remember that this had also been a time of pastoral landscapes and small ruptures of rebellion by a few Romantic poets. A hundred or so years later a young poet emerged into the cloisters of Oxford University. Long before the anarchy of socialism had turned his own mind, William Morris’ intellect had been guided by a softer guise, that of medieval literature, religion, and architecture. As a student his observances on life and nature had been absorbed from a deep philosophical association with ancient religions, those that had existed during the early epochs of medieval England.
Morris attended Exeter College in Oxford from 1852 where he studied Theology. For long periods before and during his time at university, Morris had contemplated an inobtrusive life of solitude and reflection. He had been seduced by ideas of creating a religious life, of taking Holy Orders, of seeking an ecclesiastical reverence within the chaos of his thoughts. The church itself was on the cusp of change. It would have been an exciting time, a period when it had become possible to leave fragments of the old rituals behind. He had held on to those beliefs that led back to a faith, where the historical associations of Catholic traditions could merge with the more recent Protestant scriptures within the Anglican Church. This doctrine followed the ideals created by The Oxford Movement, begun in 1833 by John Keble. This change in theological thought revived the status of the High Church. Keble had moved away from a pure Anglicism to include Catholic rituals that promoted principals of the later seventeenth-century church. Both Morris and Edward Burne-Jones were followers of this Tractarian ideology.
Most Sundays whilst at University Morris would sit in contemplative solitude as the church bells suddenly came to life, ringing out. Oxford was a city of bells, the sounds echoing high across the rooftops on a still sunny morning. The quietness of isolation enveloped him within the secluded early morning silence as he sat in the vaults at New College where he would encounter ancient Kings and Queens who sat as sculptures in the dark recesses, with shards of light illuminating the fissures of the present and past. The cloisters became his sacred space where he would debate and pace out the fundamentals of his beliefs. A new generation of priests was what he had in mind. Forward thinking and inspirational, this foresaw his own trajectory as Oxford’s quasi-monastic ideologies and structures were slowly being dismantled and taken down. Passing through the narrow streets that led out towards St Michael’s Church in Ship Lane he would tread carefully through the arched stone walls of North gate, a mediaeval relic, its tower having been built during Saxon times in and around the eleventh century, idly making his way to morning service.
Yet it in many ways it was the devotional music that produced the most dramatic effect upon his senses, the rousing and intense infiltration of sounds upon a brain that became filled by small infinite explosions as the notes weaved themselves amongst the pews and echoed all around him. Since his school days Morris had felt an affinity with the rituals of this old music, it seemed to resonate deeply within the ancient sacraments of an Anglo-Catholic catechism. That infectious early inquisitiveness stayed with him throughout his life.
By the autumn of 1855, both Morris and his closest friend Burne-Jones had become disillusioned by their affiliation to The Oxford Movement. On finishing his degree Morris had decided, much to the disdain of his mother, against taking Holy Orders. He writes eloquently and carefully to his mother trying to explain his reasons for dismissing his religious calling; she had held high and lofty ambitions of him succeeding into the role of Bishop, so this would have been a huge disappointment for her:
EX: Coll: Oxon.
November 11, 1855
My dear Mother
I am almost afraid you thought me scarcely in earnest when I told you a month or two ago that I did not intend taking Holy Orders; if this is the case I am afraid also that my letter now may vex you; but if you have really made up your mind that I was in earnest I should hope you will be pleased with my resolution. You said then, you remember, and said very truly, that it was an evil thing to be an idle, objectless man; I am fully determined not to incur this reproach, I was so then though I did not tell you at the time all I thought of, (that you) partly because I had not thought about it enough myself, and partly because I wished to give you time to become reconciled to the idea of my continuing a lay person. I wish now to be an architect, an occupation I have often had hankering after, even during the time when I intended taking Holy Orders; the signs of wh: hankerings you yourself have doubtless often seen — To come to details on this matter, I purpose asking Mr. Street of Oxford to take me as his pupil: he is a good architect, as things go now, and has a great deal of business, and (is) always goes for an honourable man.
Morris had set his mind on this new choice of career and for a short period he had signed up as an apprentice with a reputable firm in Oxford. He failed miserably though. When the firm moved to London Morris left their employment. This promising venture had become untenable for an ambitious arbitrator of medievalism; he had felt much disquiet at some of the methods used by his employer in the restoration of Gothic buildings. He was so deeply rooted and affiliated to the preservation of an older world, those decaying structures, that he fell out of favour with his forward-thinking boss. He had during this time made the acquaintance of a talented architect Philip Webb, who over the years became a lifelong friend of Morris.
Architecture and theology continued to remain prominent in his thoughts and during his many excursions abroad this impressionable young man and his friends visited France in the summer of 1855. His letters to friends and family are full of visits to the many churches and cathedrals. In a letter to his sister Emma, he writes:
Rouen. Hotel de France
(Saturday Evening.)
Sunday. July 29 [1855]
Well here we are in Rouen, glorious Rouen; yesterday we went about the Churches; mounted to the top of the view spire (360 ft.) Such a view from there. Went all about the roof and Lantern of S. Ouen; heard vespers at Notre Dame, and finally after diner mounted Mont S. Catherine and wandered about there till it was quite dark. —
In 1857 his existence as a newly-released graduate and failed architect was suddenly interrupted. His old life was abruptly upturned when he was introduced into the chaotic world of the Pre-Raphaelites and soon became an apprentice of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Morris had decided that he wanted to follow in the footsteps of his friend Edward Burne-Jones, for them both to become great painters. Rossetti was absorbed at this time with the romantic and idyllic illusions of a medieval world, most especially the fourteenth century poet Dante Alighieri. Much of Rossetti’s work as an artist was influenced by this period in history. Morris had consequently felt a meeting of minds with the Pre-Raphaelite artist and devoted much of these innocent years to the study of ancient painting, with Rossetti acting as his guide and teacher. Towards the end of the year, Morris and Burne-Jones were involved with Rossetti’s commission to paint the mural frescoes in the Oxford Union Debating Hall with a strong influence of Arthurian escapades, based largely on the writing of Thomas Mallory’s Le Morte d’ Arthur.
It was during this period that Morris met and fell in love with Jane Burden, a young model and muse of Rossetti’s who had been local to Oxford. In many respects religion had given Morris some ethical guidance and as such acted as his moral compass. He had become appalled by the poor treatment and attitudes that some of the Pre-Raphaelites had held towards the young women who worked for them. Finding ‘stunners’ as Rossetti called them meant searching out working class girls, mostly uneducated and easily manipulated.
Rossetti and Burne-Jones most probably observed Jane as she sat watching a theatre group of travelling players with her sister in September 1857, when she was just eighteen years old. Rossetti would have used his charm and charisma to lure any prospective beauty into his fold. Morris by contrast was aware of the fragility of these arrangements and that reputations could easily be damaged. Once they were no longer needed many of the young women would be discarded and left to fend for themselves. Morris would have been conscious of Jane’s fate and acted quickly to secure her best interests. After his marriage proposal Jane spent a year with a friend of Morris’ family to improve her education and refinement in social skills; they married on 26 April 1859 at St Michael’s Church, a sacred place well known to him.
A year prior to their marriage, Morris had attempted to paint the young woman who had stolen his heart. Although a fair portrait of Jane in the image of La Belle Iseult was successfully completed, he realised that he would never achieve the elevated greatness of Rossetti or Burne-Jones as an artist. He was though extraordinarily gifted, hardworking, and possessed a truly exceptional mind. Morris was very much an innovator and so used the skills he had learnt to forge a path towards a collaborative Arts and Craft movement. Rossetti and Burne-Jones were both involved together with a few of their friends and acquaintances, all of them making contributions as the firm Morris, Marshall, Faulkner & Co. established itself in 1861. As the business began to flourish, he gained the help of his architect friend Philip Webb to have the Red House built on the outskirts of South London, what was then known as Upton. The house remains a testament to his skill and vision as an arts and craft designer. In those early days it was a joyous and happy place filled with creative endeavours that included his wife, Janey. It became a bohemian utopia, a place for gatherings where Pre-Raphaelite friendships were allowed to blossom with Rossetti bringing his own bride Lizzie Siddal and Burne-Jones accompanied by his young wife Georgiana, together with Webb and the Ford Madox Browns.
In 1877, some twenty years after leaving university, Morris founded The Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings with his old friend Philip Webb, both inspired by their outrage at others attempt to preserve many of the buildings at risk in Victorian towns and cities across England, most notably gothic churches. His complete and utter commitment to caring for historic buildings became an obsession – one of many. From one of the earliest surviving letters from this time Morris writes at length about the so called ‘restoration’ of Lichfield Cathedral and the parish church at Burford. In his letter to the editor of The Athenaeum, Morris closes with the following statement:
26, Queen Square,
March 5, 1877
What I wish for, therefore, is that an association should be set on foot to keep a watch on old monuments, to protest against all "restoration" that means more than keeping out wind and weather, and, by all means, literary and other, to awaken a feeling that our ancient buildings are not mere ecclesiastical toys, but sacred monuments of the nation's growth and hope.
Further Reading:
Cambridge Library Collection – Literary Studies, The Collected Works of William Morris: With Introductions by his Daughter May Morris (Cambridge University Press, 2012).
Fiona MacCarthy, William Morries: A Life for Our Time (Faber & Faber, 2010).
Suzanne Fagance Cooper, How We Might Live: At Home with Jane and William Morris (Quercus Publishing, 2022).
Jan Marsh and Frank C. Sharp (eds.), The Collected Letters of Jane Morris (Boydell & Brewer Ltd, 2024).
After completing an MA in English Literature, Maggie’s research includes the Pre-Raphaelite period. With an interest in history and literature, Maggie has combined this with a study of nineteenth century writers or artists. She is also an advocate of contemporary nature writing.
