1941: writing to Bishop of Northampton
1965 Obituary: Andrew Butler came of a distinguished English academic family but he was born and brought up in St Andrews, where his father was Professor of Moral Philosophy, and must have acquired in that exposed place, in the sandstone house looking due north towards the heights of Forfar, the physical and moral toughness which were so characteristic of him. He disliked cars and rode a powerful motorcycle well into his seventies. He was at Rugby and the AA and won a. travelling award, but there is no evidence that he ever in his life went farther aﬁeld than France, whose architecture he loved. He was invalided out of Flanders, wounded and shell-shocked, in l9l7, and built his ﬁrst house, taking out the quantities himself, and taking some satisfaction in having precisely two bricks left at the end of the job. In the twenties and thirties, he had a pleasant country- house practice, and after being received into the Roman Catholic Church he built or altered a number of small churches. He took one or two pupils into a little ofﬁce the atmosphere of which was gay and at the same time rigorous: he drew every detail of every building himself.
Butler was and remained a Victorian, blinkered but formidable, and one of the last of the scholar-architects. He had, of course, no use for modernism, he avoided all band-wagons and had difﬁculty in remembering people's names. He himself will certainly be remembered for his monumental 3-volume memorial to Lutyens, whom he believed to be the greatest architect of his time. This was the outcome of years of exhausting struggle among the master's huge accumulation of drawings.
He also wrote a monograph on Bentley, a subtle statement of his aesthetic philosophy called “The Substance of Architecture” and a delightful biography of his beautiful and noble grandmother, Josephine Butler, to whom he was devoted. After the last war (when he was among those who kept watch in the roof of St Paul's) he took increasingly to water-colour painting and had several shows. He was an East Coast man and disappeared whenever he could to his cottage at Burnham Qvery, where he died alone.
Esher, RIBA Journal July 1965