Parsons’ displeasure

Despite its prosaic title, this is a humdinging page-turner of a book, revealing in livid detail the scandal of how the Church of England jettisoned onto the market what the author describes as ‘perhaps the most admirable, desirable and ascetic body of domestic buildings ever built’.

Despite its prosaic title, this is a humdinging page-turner of a book, revealing in livid detail the scandal of how the Church of England jettisoned onto the market what the author describes as ‘perhaps the most admirable, desirable and ascetic body of domestic buildings ever built’. Out of his reckoned 50,000 of such buildings that served England’s churches — ‘hallowed stones, if properly used, can preach a better sermon than many clergymen’ — only around 700 are left, the rest having been sold to people with little or no ecclesiastic connections and with little or no desire to nurture the religious role for which their house was originally built. They are buildings that still stand as proud symbols of that past, next to the church and in the midst of the village, physically, but no longer spiritually, the heart of the place. ‘The relationship between the buildings created a harmony intended to reflect the glory of God, not that of the hedgefund manager.’

It is a teeth-grindingly scandalous state of affairs — grimly detailed by the author — partly brought about by the grotesque mismanagement by the church and its diocesan boards, and partly by the egalitarian misapprehension that these beautiful and historic architectural treasures, blessed by the tranquillity that comes from spirituality, somehow cut the clergy off from their poor parishioners. I must declare myself a villain of the piece, in that I live in an old rectory; but I am at least aware of the silver lining, that these buildings are being loved and looked after today.