VII. NORMANDY…

VII. NORMANDY

CONTENTS.

Triapsal churches—Churches at Caen—Intersecting Vaulting—Bayeux.

WITH one or two slight exceptions, the whole history of the Round-arched Norman Gothic is comprehended within a period of less than a century. No building in this style is known to have been even commenced before the year 1050, and before 1150 the pointed style had superseded it in its native province. Indeed, practically speaking, all the great and typical examples are crowded into the last fifty years of the 11th century. This was a period of great excitement and prosperity with the Northmen, who, having at last settled themselves in this fertile province, not only placed their dukes on an equality with any of the powers then existing in France, but by their conquest of England raised their chief to an importance and a rank superior to that of any other potentate in Europe except the German emperors of that day, with whose people they were, in fact, both by race and policy, more closely allied than they were with those among whom they had settled.

There are two exceptional churches in Normandy which should not be passed over in silence: one is a little triapsal oratory at St. Wandrille; the other a similar but somewhat more important church at Querqueville, near Cherbourg, on the coast of Brittany. Both are rude and simple in their outline and ornaments; they are built with that curious herring-bone or diagonal masonry indicative of great age, and differing in every essential respect from the works of the Normans when they came into possession of the province. Indeed, like the transitional churches last described, these must be considered as the religious edifices of the inhabitants before that invasion; and if they show any affinity to any other style, it is to Belgium and Germany we must look for it rather than anywhere within the boundaries of France.

Amongst the oldest-looking buildings of pure Norman architecture is the church of Léry, near Pont de l’Arche. It is the only one, so far as is known, with a simple tunnel-vault, and this is so massive, and rests on piers of such unusual solidity, as to give it an appearance of immense antiquity. There is no good reason, however, for believing that it really is older than the chapel of the Tower of London, which it resembles in most respects, though the latter is of somewhat lighter architecture.

Passing from this we come to a series of at least five important churches, all erected in the latter half of the 11th century. The first of these is the church of Jumièges, the western end of which was principally erected by Robert, afterwards Bishop of London, and finally Archbishop of Canterbury. Its precise date is not very well known, though it was probably begun before 1050, and certainly shows a far ruder and less complete style of architecture than any of the later churches. It is doubtful whether it was ever intended to throw a vault over the nave; yet the walls and piers are far more massive than those of the churches of Caen, or that of Bocherville in its immediate neighbourhood. This last we know to have been commenced in the year 1050, and completed in 1066. This church still retains in a wonderful state of completeness all the features of a Norman church of that age— the only part of which is of a more modern date being the two western turrets, which are at least a century later.

The next of the series is the well-known Abbaye-aux-Hommes, or St. Stephen’s, at Caen (Woodcut No. 612), commenced by William the Conqueror, 1066, in gratitude for his victory at Hastings, and dedicated eleven years afterwards. Then follow the sister church of the Trinité, or Abbaye-aux-Dames, commenced in 1083, and the parish church of St. Nicolas at Caen, begun in the following year. These two last were almost certainly completed within the limits of the 11th century.

Of all these the finest is St Stephen’s, which is a first-class church, its extreme length being 364 ft. It was not originally so long, having terminated with an apse, as shown in the plan, Fig. 1, which was superseded about a century afterwards by a chevet, as shown, Fig. 2. This, however, was an innovation—all the round Gothic churches in Normandy having originally been built with apses, nor do I know of a single instance of a chevet in the province. This circumstance points rather to Germany than to the neighbouring districts of France for the origin of the Norman style—indeed all the arrangements of this church are more like those of the Rhenish basilicas, that of Spires for example, than any of those churches we have hitherto found within the limits of France itself. This is more remarkable at Jumièges than even here. None of them, however, has two apses, nor are lateral entrances at all in use; on the contrary, the western end, or that opposite the altar, is always, as in the true basilica, the principal entrance. In Normandy we generally find this flanked by two towers, which give it a dignity and importance not found in any of those styles we have been examining. These western towers became afterwards in France the most important features of the external architecture of churches, though it is by no means clear whence they were derived. They are certainly of neither Italian nor German derivation, nor do they belong to any of those styles of the Southern provinces of France which we have been describing. The churches of Auvergne are those which perhaps show the nearest approach to them.

On the whole it appears most probable that the western fronts of the Norman churches were taken from the façades of Germany, and the towers added to give dignity to them. As will be seen from the view (Woodcut No. 613), in St. Stephen’s at Caen the feature is well marked and defined; for though the spires were apparently added at the same time as the chevet, the towers which support them evidently belong to the original design. They may be regarded as the prototype of the façades of nearly all the Gothic cathedrals of France. These western towers eventually superseded the attempt made to raise the principal external feature of the churches on the intersection of the nave with the transepts as had been done in the South, and they made the western front the most important part, not only in decoration, but in actual height. Here and throughout the North of France, with the exception of the churches at Rouen, the central tower is low and comparatively insignificant, scarcely even aspiring to group with those of the western façade.

INTERSECTING VAULTING.

As there are few churches in France which illustrate so completely the difficulties of intersecting vaulting, and the struggle of the Mediæval architects to conquer them, as St. Stephen’s, Caen, it may add to the clearness of what follows if we pause in our narrative to explain what these were.

The churches described hitherto possessed simple tunnel-vaults either of round or pointed forms, or, having no side-aisles, were roofed with square intersecting vaults of equal dimensions each way. The former plan was admissible in the bright South, where light was not so much required: but the latter expedient deprived the churches of several things which were always felt to be the powerful requisites of an internal style of architecture. Without the contrast in height between the central and side aisles, the true effect of the dimensions could not be obtained. Without the internal pillars no poetry of proportion was possible, and without an ambulatory, processions lost their meaning. The compartments of the aisles being square, no difficulty was experienced as regards them; but the central aisle being both higher and wider, it became necessary either to ignore every alternate pillar of the aisle, and to divide the central roof equally into squares, or to adopt some compromise. This difficulty was not got over till the pointed arch was introduced; but in the meanwhile it is very instructive to watch the various attempts that were made to obviate it.

There can be little doubt that the Norman architects, with true Gothic feeling, always intended that their churches should eventually be vaulted, and prepared them accordingly, though in many instances they were constructed with wooden roofs, or compromises of some sort. Even at Jumièges, the alternate piers were made stronger, and the intention there and in other instances seems to have been to throw a stone arch across the nave so as to break the flat line of the roof, and give it at least a certain amount of permanent character. In the Abbaye-aux-Hommes, Caen, even this does not appear to have been attempted in the first instance. The vaulting shafts were carried right up and made to support wooden trusses, as shown on the right hand of the diagram (Woodcut No. 614).[31] The intention, however, may have been to cut these away when the vault should come to be erected. In England they frequently remain, but rarely, if ever, in Normandy. The next step was to construct a quadripartite vault over the nave, and a simple arch supporting its crown over the intermediate shaft. This was soon seen to be a mistake, and in fact was only a makeshift. In consequence at Caen a compromise was adopted, which the Woodcut No. 616 will explain,—a sort of intermediate vault was introduced springing from the alternate piers.[32] Mechanically it was right, artistically it was painfully wrong. It introduced and declared a number of purely constructive features without artistic arrangement or pleasing lines, and altogether showed so plainly the mere mechanical structural wants of the roof as to be most unpleasing. Before, however, they could accomplish even this, the side-aisles had to be re-vaulted with pointed arches so as to carry the centre of gravity higher. A half vault was thrown over the gallery as shown in Fig. 1, on the left side of the Woodcut No. 614, and the whole upper structure considerably strengthened. When all this was done they ventured to carry out what was practically, as will be seen from the plan (Woodcut No. 612), and elevation (Woodcut No. 616), a quadripartite vault with an intermediate insertion, which insertion was, however, neither quite a rib, nor quite a compartment of a vault, but something between the two; and in spite of all the ingenuity bestowed upon it in Germany, France, and England, in the 11th and beginning of the 12th centuries, it never produced an entirely satisfactory effect, until at last the pointed arch came to the rescue. It is easy to see from the diagram (Woodcut No. 615) how the introduction of the pointed arch obviated the difficulty. In the first place, supposing the great vault to remain circular, two segments of the same circle, A B, A C, carry the intersecting vault nearly to the height of the transverse one, or it could as easily be carried to the same height as at D. When both were pointed, as at E and F, it was easy to make their relative heights anything the architect chose, without either forcing or introducing any disagreeable curves. By this means the compartments of the vaults of the central nave were made the same width as those of the side-aisles, whatever their span might be, and every compartment or bay was a complete design in itself, without reference to those next to it on either side.

The arrangement in elevation of the internal compartments of the nave of this church will be understood from Woodcut No. 616, where it will be seen that the aisles are low, and above them runs a great gallery, a feature common in Italy, but rare in Germany. Its introduction may have arisen either from a desire for increased accommodation, or merely to obtain height, as it is evident that an arch the whole height of the side-aisles and gallery would be singularly narrow and awkward. This was one of those difficulties which were only got over by the introduction of the pointed arch; but which, whenever attempted in the circular style, led to very disagreeable and stilted effects. It may, however, have been suggested by the abutting galleries we find so frequently used in Southern churches. Be this as it may, the two storeys of the aisles fill up the height far more pleasingly than could be done by one, and bring an abutment up to the very springing of the main vault of the nave.

The worst feature in this elevation (Woodcut No. 616) is the clerestory, where the difficulties of the vaulting introduced a lop-sided arrangement very destructive of true architectural effect, and only excusable here from the inherent difficulties of a first attempt.

During the twenty or thirty years that elapsed between the building of St. Stephen’s church and that of the Abbaye-aux-Dames, immense progress seems to have been made towards the new style, as will be seen from the annexed elevation of one compartment of the nave of the latter. The great gallery is omitted, the side-aisles made higher, the piers lighter and more ornamental. The triforium is a mere passage under the upper windows, and so managed as not to intercept their light from any part of the church. Even the vaulting, though in some parts hexapartite, in others shows a great approach to the quadripartite vaulting of the subsequent age; this, however, is obtained by bringing down the main vault to the level of the side vault, and not by raising the side arches to the level of the central, as was afterwards done. The greatest change is in the richness and elegance of the details, which show great progress towards the more ornamental style that soon afterwards came into use.

The parochial church of St. Nicolas at Caen is naturally plainer than either of these royal abbeys. It shows considerable progress in construction, and deserves far more attention than it has hitherto met with. It is the only church, so far as I know, in Normandy, that retains the original external covering of its apse. This consists, as shown in the Woodcut (No. 618), of a high pyramidal roof of stone, following to the eastward the polygonal form of the apse, and extending one bay towards the west. From an examination of the central tower, it is clear that this was not the original pitch of the church roof, which was nearly as low in all Norman churches as in those of Auvergne. In this instance the roof over the apse was a sort of semi-spire placed over an altar, to mark externally the importance of the portion of the church beneath it. In appearance it is identical with the polygonal cones at Loches, before mentioned. At Bourges, and elsewhere in France, similar cones are found over chapels and altars; but in most instances they have been removed, probably from some defect in construction, or from their not harmonising with the wooden roofs of the rest of the church. They were in fact the originals of the spires which afterwards became so much in vogue, and as such their history would be interesting, if properly inquired into.

The cathedral of Bayeux, as now standing, is considerably more modern than either of these; no part now remains of the church of Odo, the brother of the Conqueror, except the lower portion of the western towers, and a crypt which is still older. The pier arches of the nave belong to the first half of the 12th century, the rest of the church to the rebuilding, which was commenced 1157, after the town had been burnt, and the cathedral considerably damaged, by the soldiers of Henry I. At this time the apse was removed to make way for a chevet, which is one of the most beautiful specimens of early pointed Gothic to be found in France, and far surpasses its rival in the Abbaye-aux-Hommes at Caen. In the church at Caen, the alteration was probably made to receive the tomb of the Conqueror, when that veneration began to be shown to his remains which was denied to himself when dying. Here, however, the same motive does not seem to have existed, and it is more probable that the extension was caused by the immense increase of the priesthood in the course of the 11th and 12th centuries, requiring a larger choir for their accommodation. We know from the disposition of the choir, that the nave originally had a great gallery over the side-aisles, and consequently a low clerestory. But before it was rebuilt, in the end of the 12th or beginning of the 13th century, the mania for painted glass had seized on the French architects, and all architectural propriety was sacrificed to this mode of decoration. In the present instance we cannot help contrasting the solid grandeur of the basement with the lean and attenuated forms of the superstructure, although this attenuation was in other examples carried to a still greater extent afterwards.

The diapering of the spandrils of the lower arches (Woodcut No. 619) is another feature worthy of remark, as illustrating the history of the style. Before painted glass was introduced, the walls of all churches in Northern Europe were covered with fresco or distemper paintings, as was then, and is to the present day, the case in Italy. But when coloured windows came into use, the comparative dulness of the former mode of decoration was immediately felt, and the use of colour confined to the more brilliant transparent material. It was necessary to find a substitute for the wall painting, and the most obvious expedient was that of carving on the stone the same patterns which it had been customary to paint on them. An attempt was made, indeed, to heighten the effect of this carving by inlaying the lines with coloured mastic or cement; but the process was soon found to be not only very expensive but very ineffective, and gave way afterwards to sculptured figures in traceried panels. These ornaments easily filled up the very small spaces of wall that were not occupied either by the windows, which were greatly enlarged, or by the constructive supports of the building. Now, however, that colour is gone both from the walls and the windows, this diapering gives a singularly rich and pleasing effect to the architecture of the lower storey, and, combined with the massiveness and varied richness of the piers themselves, renders this a nearly unique specimen of a Norman arcade, and one of the most beautiful that has come down to us.

These examples are, it is hoped, sufficient to make known the general characteristics of a style which is at the same time of great interest to the English reader from its proximity to our shores, and from its influence on our own, although it is comparatively so familiar as to require less illustration than many others. Besides the examples above described, many other specimens of Norman architecture might have been given, filling up the details of the series, from the rude simplicity of Jumièges to the elaborate richness of the nave of Bayeux, and showing a rapidity of progress and boldness in treating the subject hardly surpassed in the succeeding age; but still, with all its developments, it can only be considered as a first rude attempt to form a style of architecture which was superseded before its principles began to be understood, and lost before it had received any of those finishing touches which form the great element of beauty in all the more perfect styles.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

VIII. FRANKISH ARCHITECTURE

CONTENTS.

Historical notice—The pointed arch—Freemasonry—Mediæval architects.

THE architectural history of the Central or Frankish province is widely different from that of any of those we have yet examined. At the end of the 5th century the whole of the North of France was overrun by Clovis and his Franks, and on his death in 511 his dominions were divided into four kingdoms, of which Metz, Paris, Soissons, and Orleans, were the capitals. If we take these cities as centres, and add their districts together, they correctly represent the limits of the architectural province we are now entering upon. With various fluctuations, sometimes one kingdom, sometimes two or even three being absorbed in one, they were at last united under Pepin in 748, only to make way for the accession of Charlemagne and his universal empire over the whole Gothic districts of Europe, with the exception of England and Spain.

With the Merovingian kings we have nothing to do; they have not left one single building from which to judge of the state of the art during their ascendency—(they must have been Aryans pur sang)—nor can our history with propriety be said even to begin in France with Charlemagne. His accession marks the epoch towards which an archæologist may hope to trace back the incunabula of the style, but as yet no single building has been found in France which can with certainty be ascribed to his reign. The nave at Montier-en-Der, the Basse Œuvre at Beauvais, and other buildings, may approach his age in antiquity, but we must travel down to the time of Capet (987) ere we find anything that can be considered as the germ of what followed.

This may in a great measure be owing to the confusion and anarchy that followed on the death of Charlemagne; and to the weakness of the kings, the disorganisation of the people, and the ravages of the Northmen and other barbarians, from which it resulted that no part of France was in a less satisfactory position for the cultivation of the arts of peace than that which might have been expected to take the lead in all. Thus, while the very plunder of the Central province enabled the Normans to erect and sustain a powerful state on the one side, and to adorn it with monuments which still excite our admiration, and the organisation of the monks of Burgundy on the other hand promoted the cultivation of arts of peace to an extent hardly known before their time in Northern Europe, Central France remained incapable even of self-defence, and still more so of raising monuments of permanent splendour.

There must no doubt have been buildings in the Romanesque style in this province, but they were few and insignificant compared with those we have been describing, either in the South or in Normandy and Burgundy. Even in Paris the great church of St. Germain des Prés, the burial-place of the earlier kings, and apparently the most splendid edifice of the capital, was not more than 50 ft. in width by 200 in length before the rebuilding of its chevet in the pointed style, and it possessed no remarkable features of architectural beauty. St. Geneviève was even smaller and less magnificent; and if there was a cathedral, it was so insignificant that it has not been mentioned by any contemporary historian.

Several of the provincial capitals probably possessed cathedrals of some extent and magnificence. All these, however, were found so unsuited to the splendid tastes of the 12th and 13th centuries, that they were pulled down and rebuilt on a more extended scale; and it is only from little fragmentary portions of village churches that we learn that the round Gothic style was really at one time prevalent in the province, and possessed features according to its locality resembling more or less those of the neighbouring styles. So scanty indeed are such traces, that it is hardly worth while to recapitulate here the few observations that might occur on the round Gothic styles as found within the limits of the province.[33]

This state of affairs continued down to the reign of Louis le Gros, 1108-1136, under whom the monarchy of France began to revive. This monarch, by his activity and intelligence, restored to a considerable extent the authority of the central power over the then independent vassals of the crown. This was carried still further under the reign of his successor, Louis le Jeune (1137-1179), though perhaps more was owing to the abilities of the Abbé Suger than to either of these monarchs. He seems to have been one of those great men who sometimes appear at a crisis in the history of their country, to guide and restore what otherwise might be left to blind chance and to perish for want of a master mind. Under Philip Augustus the country advanced with giant strides, till under St. Louis it arrived at the summit of its power. For a century after this it sustained itself by the impulse thus given to it, and with scarcely an external sign of that weakness which betrayed itself in the rapidity with which the whole power of the nation crumbled to pieces under the first rude shock sustained in 1346 at Crecy from the hand of Edward III.

More than a century of anarchy and confusion followed this great event, and perhaps the period of the English wars may be considered as the most disastrous of the whole history of France, as the previous two centuries had been the most brilliant. When she delivered herself from these troubles, she was no longer the same. The spirit of the Middle Ages had passed away. The simple faith and giant energy of the reigns of Philip Augustus and St. Louis were not to be found under Louis IX. and his inglorious successors. With the accession of Francis I. a new state of affairs succeeded, to the total obliteration of all that had gone before, at least in art.

The improvement of architecture, keeping pace exactly with the improved political condition of the land, began with Louis le Gros, and continued till the reign of Philip of Valois (1108 to 1328). It was during the two centuries comprised within this period that pointed architecture was invented, which became the style, not only of France, but of all Europe during the Middle Ages; and is, par excellence, the Gothic style of Europe. The cause of this pre-eminence is to be found partly in the accident of the superior power of the nation to which the style belonged at this critical period, but more to the artistic feelings of their race; and also because the style was found the most fitted to carry out certain religious forms and decorative principles which were prevalent at the time, and which will be noted as we proceed.

The style, therefore, with which this chapter is concerned is that which commenced with the building of the Abbey of St. Denis, by Suger, A.D. 1144,[34] which culminated with the building of the Sainte Chapelle of Paris by St. Louis, 1244, and which received its greatest amount of finish at the completion of the choir of St. Ouen at Rouen by Mark d’Argent, in 1339. There are pointed arches to be found in the Central province, as well as all over France, before the time of the Abbé Suger; but they are only the experiments of masons struggling with a constructive difficulty, and the pointed style continued to be practised for more than a century and a half after the completion of the choir of St. Ouen, but no longer in the pure and vigorous style of the earlier period. Subsequent to this it resembles more the efforts of a national style to accommodate itself to new tastes and new feelings, and to maintain itself by ill-suited arrangements against the innovation of a foreign style which was to supersede it, and the influence of which was felt long before its definite appearance.

The sources from which the pointed arch was taken have been more than once alluded to in the preceding pages. It is a subject on which a great deal more has been said and written than was at all called for by the real importance of the question. Scarcely anything was done in pointed architecture which had not already been done in the round-arch styles. Certainly there is nothing which could not have been done, at least nearly as well, and many things much better, by adhering to the complete instead of to the broken arch. The coupling and compounding of piers had already been carried to great perfection, and the assignment of a separate function to each staff was already a fixed principle. Vaulting too was nearly perfect, only that the main vaults were either hexapartite or six-celled, instead of quadripartite, as they afterwards became; an improvement certainly, but not one of much importance. Ribbed vaulting was the greatest improvement which the Mediæval architects made on the Roman vaults, giving not only additional strength of construction, but an apparent vigour and expression to the vault, which is one of the greatest beauties of the style. This system was in frequent use before the employment of the pointed arch. The different and successive planes of decoration were also one of the Mediæval inventions which was carried to greater perfection in the round Gothic styles than in the pointed. Indeed, it is a fact, that except in window tracery, and perhaps in pinnacles and flying buttresses, there is not a single important feature in the pointed style that was not invented and in general use before its introduction. Even of windows, which are the important features of the new style, by far the finest are the circular or wheel windows, which have nothing pointed about them, and which always fit awkwardly into the pointed compartments in which they are placed. In smaller windows, too, by far the most beautiful and constructively appropriate tracery is that where circles are introduced into the heads of the pointed windows. But, after hundreds of experiments and expedients had been tried, the difficulty of fitting these circles into spherical triangles remained, and the unpleasant form to which their disagreement inevitably gave rise, proved ultimately so intolerable, that the architects were forced to abandon the beautiful constructive geometric tracery for the flowing or flamboyant form; and this last was so ill adapted to stone construction, that the method was abandoned altogether. These and many other difficulties would have been avoided, had the architects adhered to the form of the unbroken arch; but on the other hand it must be confessed that the pointed forms gave a facility of arrangement which was an irresistible inducement for its adoption; and especially to the French, who always affected height as the principal element of architectural effect, it afforded an easy means for the attainment of this object. Its greatest advantage was the ease with which any required width could be combined with any required height. With this power of adaptation the architect was at liberty to indulge in all the wildness of the most exuberant fancy, hardly controlled by any constructive necessities of the work he was carrying out. Whether this was really an advantage or not, is not quite clear. A tighter rein on the fancy of the designer would certainly have produced a purer and severer style, though we might have been deprived of some of those picturesque effects which charm so much in Gothic cathedrals, especially when their abruptness is softened by time and hallowed by associations. We must, however, in judging of the style, be careful to guard ourselves against fettering our judgment by such associations. There is nothing in all this that might not have been as easily applied to round as to pointed arches, and indeed it would certainly have been so applied, had any of the round-arched styles arrived at maturity.

Far more important than the introduction of the pointed arch was the invention of painted glass, which is really the important formative principle of Gothic architecture; so much so, that there would be more meaning in the name, if it were called the “painted-glass style,” instead of the pointed-arch style.

In all the earlier attempts at a pointed style, which have been alluded to in the preceding pages, the pointed arch was confined to the vaults, pier arches, and merely constructive parts, while the decorative parts, especially the windows and doorways, were still round-headed. The windows were small, and at considerable distances, a very small surface of openings filled with plain white glass being sufficient to admit all the light that was required for the purposes of the building, while more would have destroyed the effect by that garish white light that is now so offensive in most of our great cathedrals. As soon, however, as painted glass was introduced, the state of affairs was altered: the windows were first enlarged to such an extent as was thought possible without endangering the safety of the painted glass, with the imperfect means of supporting it then known.[35] All circular plans were abandoned, and polygonal apses and chapels of the chevet introduced; and lastly, the windows being made to occupy as nearly as was possible the whole of each face of these polygonal apses, the lines of the upper part of the window came internally into such close contact with the lines of the vault, that it was almost impossible to avoid making them correspond the one with the other. Thus the windows took the pointed form already adopted for constructive reasons in the vaults. This became even more necessary when the fashion was introduced of grouping two or three simple windows together so as to form one; and when those portions of wall which separated these windows one from the other had become attenuated into mullions, and the upper part into tracery, until in fact the entire wall was taken up by this new species of decoration.

So far as internal architecture is concerned, the invention of painted glass was perhaps the most beautiful ever made. The painted slabs of the Assyrian palaces are comparatively poor attempts at the same effect. The hieroglyphics of the Egyptians were far less splendid and complete; nor can the painted temples of the Greeks, nor the mosaics and frescoes of the Italian churches, be compared with the brilliant effect and party-coloured glories of the windows of a perfect Gothic cathedral, where the whole history of the Bible was written in the hues of the rainbow by the earnest hand of faith.

Unfortunately no cathedral retains its painted glass in anything like such completeness; and so little is the original intention of the architects understood, that we are content to admire the plain surface of white glass, and to consider this as the appropriate filling of traceried windows, just as our fathers thought that whitewash was not only the purest, but the best mode of decorating a Gothic interior. What is worse, modern architects, when building Gothic churches, fill their sides with large openings of this glass, not reflecting that a gallery of picture-frames without the pictures is after all a sorry exhibition; but so completely have we lost all real feeling for the art, that its absurdity does not strike us now.

It will, however, be impossible to understand what follows, unless we bear in mind that all windows in all churches erected after the middle of the 12th century were at least intended to be filled with painted glass, and that the principal and guiding motive in all the changes subsequently introduced into the architecture of the age was to obtain the greatest possible space and the best-arranged localities for its display.

FREEMASONRY.

The institution of freemasonry is another matter on which, like the invention of the pointed arch, a great deal more has been said than the real importance of the subject at all deserves. Still this subject has been considered so all-important, that it is impossible to pass it over here without some reference, if only to explain why so little notice will be taken of its influence, or of the important names which are connected with it.

Before the middle of the 12th and beginning of the 13th century, it is generally admitted that the corporation of freemasons was not sufficiently organised to have had much influence on art. At that time it is supposed to have assumed more importance, and to have been the principal guiding cause in the great change that then took place in architecture. Those who adopt this view, forget that at that time all trades and professions were organised in the same manner, and that the guild of masons differed in no essential particulars from those of the shoemakers or hatters, the tailors or vintners—all had their masters and past-masters, their wardens, and other officers, and were recruited from a body of apprentices, who were forced to undergo years of probationary servitude before they were admitted to practise their arts.

But though their organisation was the same, the nature of their pursuits forced one very essential distinction upon the masons, for inasmuch as all the usual trades were local, and the exercise of them confined to the locality where the tradesmen resided, the builders were, on the contrary, forced to go wherever any great work was to be executed.

Thus the shoemakers, tailors, bakers, and others, lived among their customers, and just in such numbers as were required to supply their usual recurring wants. It is true the apprentices travelled to learn their profession and see the world before settling down, but after that each returned to his native town or village, and then established himself among his friends or relatives, where he was known by all, and where he at once took his station without further trouble.

With the mason it was different: his work never came to him, nor could it be carried on in his own house; he was always forced to go to his work; and when any great church or building was to be erected in any town, which was beyond the strength of the ordinary tradesmen of the place to undertake, masons were sent for, and flocked from all the neighbouring towns and districts to obtain employment.

At a time when writing was almost unknown among the laity, and not one mason in a thousand could either read or write, it is evidently essential that some expedient should be hit upon by which a mason travelling to his work might claim the assistance and hospitality of his brother masons on the road, and by means of which he might take his rank at once, on reaching the lodge, without going through tedious examinations or giving practical proof of his skill. For this purpose a set of secret signs was invented, which enabled all masons to recognise one another as such, and by which also each man could make known his grade to those of similar rank, without further trouble than a manual sign, or the utterance of some recognised pass-word. Other trades had something of the same sort, but it never was necessary for them to carry it either to the same extent nor to practise it so often as the masons, they being for the most part resident in the same place and knowing each other personally. The masons, who thus from circumstances became more completely organised than other trades, were men skilled in the arts of hewing and setting stones, acquainted with all recent inventions and improvements connected with their profession, and capable of carrying out any work that might be entrusted to them, though they never seem to have attempted to exercise their calling except under the guidance of some superior personage, either a bishop or abbot, or an accomplished layman. In the time of which we are speaking, which was the great age of Gothic art, there is no instance of a mason of any grade being called upon to furnish the designs as well as to execute the work.

It may appear strange to us in the 19th century, among whom the great majority really do not know what true art means, that six centuries ago eminent men, not specially educated to the profession of architecture, and qualified only by talent and good taste, should have been capable of such vast and excellent designs; but a little reflection will show how easy it is to design when art is in the right path.

If for instance we take a cathedral, any one of a series—let us say of Paris; when completed, or nearly so, it was easy to see that though an improvement on those which preceded it, there were many things in its construction or design which might have been better. The side-aisles were too low, the gallery too large, the clerestory not sufficiently spacious for the display of the painted glass, and so on. Let us next suppose the Bishop of Amiens at that period determined on the erection of his cathedral. It was easy for him or his master-mason to make these criticisms, and also to perceive how these mistakes might be avoided; they could easily see where width might be spared, especially in the nave, and where a little additional height and a little additional length would improve the effect of the whole. During the progress of the Parisian works also some capitals had been designed, or some new form of piers adopted, which were improvements on preceding examples, and more confidence and skill would also have been derived from the experience gained in the construction of arches and vaults. All these of course would be adopted in the new cathedral; and without making drawings, guided only by general directions as to the plan and dimensions, the masons might proceed with the work, and, introducing all the new improvements as it progressed, they would inevitably produce a better result than any that preceded it, without any especial skill on the part either of the master-mason or his employer.

If a third cathedral were to be built after this, it would of course contain all the improvements made during the progress of the second, and all the corrections which its results suggested; and thus, while the art was really progressive, it required neither great individual skill nor particular aptitude to build such edifices as we find.

In fine arts we have no illustration of this in modern times; but all our useful arts advance on the same principles, and lead consequently to the same results. In ship-building, for instance, as mentioned in the Introduction (page 45), if we take a series of ships, from those in which Edward III. and his bold warriors crossed the channel to the great line-of-battle ships now lying at anchor in our harbours, we find a course of steady and uninterrupted improvement from first to last. Some new method is tried; if it is found to succeed, it is retained; if it fails, it is dropped. Thus the general tendency constantly leads to progress and improvement. And, to continue the comparison a little further, this progress in the art is not attributable to one or more eminent naval architects. Great and important discoveries have no doubt been made by individuals, but in these cases we may generally assume that, the state of science being ripe for such advances, had the discovery in question not been made by one man, it soon would have occurred to some other.

The fact is, that in a useful art like that of ship-building, or in an art combining use and beauty like that of architecture—that is, when the latter is a real, living, national art—the progress made is owing, not to the commanding abilities of particular men, but to the united influence of the whole public. An intelligent sailor who discusses the good and bad qualities of a ship, does his part towards the advancement of the art of ship-building. So in architecture, the merit of any one admirable building, or of a high state of national art, is not due to one or to a few master minds, but to the aggregation of experience, the mass of intellectual exertion, which alone can achieve any practically great result. Whenever we see any work of man truly worthy of admiration, we may be quite sure that the credit of it is not due to an individual, but to thousands working together through a long series of years.

The pointed Gothic architecture of Germany furnishes a negative illustration of the view which we have taken of the conditions necessary for great architectural excellence. There the style was not native, but introduced from France. French masons were employed, who executed their work with the utmost precision, and with a perfection of masonic skill scarcely to be found in France itself. But in all the higher elements of beauty, the German pointed Gothic cathedrals are immeasurably inferior to the French. They are no longer the expression of the devotional feelings of the clergy and people, and are totally devoid of the highest order of architectural beauty.

The truth of the matter is, that the very pre-eminence of the great masonic lodges of Germany in the 14th century destroyed the art. When freemasonry became so powerful as to usurp to itself the designing as well as the execution of churches and other buildings, there was an end of true art, though accompanied by the production of some of the most wonderful specimens of stone-cutting and of constructive skill that were ever produced. This, however, is “building,” not architecture; and though it may excite the admiration of the vulgar, it never will touch the feelings of the true artist or the man of taste.

This decline of true art had nowhere shown itself during the 13th century, with which we are concerned at present. Then architecture was truly progressive: every man and every class in the country lent their aid, each in his own department, and all worked together to produce those wonderful buildings which still excite our admiration. The masons performed their part, and it was an important one: but neither to them nor to their employers, such as the Abbé Suger, Maurice de Sully, Robert de Lusarches, or Fulbert of Chartres, is the whole merit to be ascribed, but to all classes of the French nation, carrying on steadily a combined movement towards a well-defined end.

In the following pages, therefore, it will not be necessary to recur to the freemasons nor their masters—at least not more than incidentally— till we come to Germany. Nor will it be necessary to attempt to define who was the architect of any particular building. The names usually fixed upon by antiquaries after so much search are merely those of the master-masons or foremen of the works, who had nothing whatever to do with the main designs of the buildings. The simple fact that all the churches of any particular age are so like to one another, both in plan and detail, and so nearly equal in merit, is alone sufficient to prove how little the individual had to do with their design, and how much was due to the age and the progress the style had achieved at that time. This, too, has always proved to be the case, not only in Europe, but in every corner of the world, and in every age when architecture has been a true and living art.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

IX. FRENCH GOTHIC CATHEDRALS

CONTENTS.

Paris—Chartres—Rheims—Amiens—Other Cathedrals—Later Style—St. Ouen’s, Rouen.

THE great difficulty in attempting to describe the architecture of France during the glorious period of the 13th century is really the embarras de richesse. There are even now some thirty or forty cathedrals of the first class in France, all owing their magnificence to this great age. Some of these, it is true, were commenced even early in the 12th, and many were not completed till after the 14th century; but all their principal features, as well as all their more important beauties, belong to the 13th century, which, as a building epoch, is perhaps the most brilliant in the whole history of architecture. Not even the great Pharaonic era in Egypt, the age of Pericles in Greece, nor the great period of the Roman Empire, will bear comparison with the 13th century in Europe, whether we look to the extent of the buildings executed, their wonderful variety and constructive elegance, the daring imagination that conceived them, or the power of poetry and of lofty religious feelings that is expressed in every feature and in every part of them.

During the previous age almost all the greater ecclesiastical buildings were abbeys, or belonged exclusively to monastic establishments—were in fact the sole property, and built only for the use, of the clergy, though the laity, it is true, were admitted to them, but only on sufferance. They had no right to be there, and took no part in the ceremonies performed. In the 13th century, however, almost all the great buildings were cathedrals, in the erection of which the laity bore the greater part of the expense, and shared, in at least an equal degree, in their property and purposes. In a subsequent age the parochial system went far to supersede even the cathedral, the people’s church taking almost entirely the place of the priest’s church, a step which was subsequently carried to its utmost length by the Reformation. Our present subject requires us to fix our attention on that stage of this great movement which gave rise to the building of the principal cathedrals throughout Europe from the 12th to the 15th century.

The transition from the Romanesque to the true pointed Gothic style in the centre of France took place with the revival of the national power under the guidance of the great Abbé Suger, about the year 1144. In England it hardly appeared till the rebuilding of Canterbury Cathedral, under the guidance of a French architect, A.D. 1175; and in Germany it is not found till, at all events, the beginning of the 13th century, and can hardly be said to have taken firm root in that country till a century at least after it had been fairly established in France.

The development of particular features will be pointed out as we proceed; but no attempt will be made to arrange the cathedrals and great buildings in chronological order. Such an attempt would merely lead to confusion, as most of them took a century at least to erect—many of them two.

In France, as in England, there is no one great typical building to which we can refer as a standard of perfection—no Hypostyle Hall or Parthenon which combines in itself all the excellences of the style adopted; and we are forced therefore to cull from a number of examples materials for the composition, even in imagination, of a perfect whole. Germany has in this respect been more fortunate, possessing in Cologne Cathedral an edifice combining all the beauties ever attempted to be produced in pointed Gothic in that country. But even this is only an imitation of French cathedrals, erected by persons who admired and understood the details of the style, but were incapable of appreciating its higher principles. The great cathedrals of Rheims, Chartres, and Amiens, are all early examples of the style, and as they were erected nearly simultaneously, none of their architects were able to profit by the experience obtained in the others; they are consequently all more or less experiments in a new and untried style. The principal parts of the church of St. Ouen at Rouen, on the contrary, are of somewhat too late a date; and beautiful though it is, masonic perfection was then coming to be more considered than the expression either of poetry or of power.

Still in Rheims Cathedral we have a building possessing so many of the perfections and characteristic beauties of the art, that it may almost serve as a type of the earlier style, as St. Ouen may of the later; and though we may regret the absence of the intermediate steps, except in such fragments as the Sainte Chapelle at Paris, still between them we may obtain a tolerably clear idea of the form to which French art aspired during its most flourishing age.

To avoid as far as may be possible the tediousness of repetition necessary if the attempt were made to describe each building separately, and at the same time not to fall into the confusion that must result from grouping the whole together, the most expedient mode will perhaps be, to describe first the four great typical cathedrals of Paris, Chartres, Rheims, and Amiens, and then to point out briefly the principal resemblances and differences between these and the other cathedrals of France.

Of these four, that of Paris is the oldest; the foundation-stone having been laid 1163, and the work carried on with such activity by the bishop, Maurice de Sully, that the high altar was dedicated 1182, the interior completed 1208, and the west front finished about the year 1214.

The history of the cathedral of Chartres (Woodcut No. 623) is not so easily traced. An important church was erected there by Bishop Fulbert in the beginning of the 11th century, of which building scarcely anything now remains but the piers of the western doors and the vast crypt. In 1115, according to Mr. Street,[36] a west front was commenced and in 1194 the whole church was destroyed by fire. The new cathedral was at once commenced, but upon the old foundations. As the old crypt sustained no damage and it extended the whole length of the church, the architect was obliged to build on the old lines, and thus we have, as Mr. Street points out, a variation in the chapels of the chevet which is extremely original and unlike any other example. The rebuilding was not completed till the year 1260.

The cathedral of Rheims (Woodcut No. 624) was commenced in the year 1211, immediately after a fire which consumed the preceding building, and under the auspices of Archbishop Alberic de Humbert,—Robert de Coucy acting as trustee on the part of the laity. It was so far completed in all essential parts as to be dedicated in 1241.

Amiens Cathedral (Woodcut No. 625) was commenced in 1220, and completed in 1257; but being partially destroyed by fire the year afterwards, the clerestory and all the upper parts of the church were rebuilt. The whole appears to have been completed, nearly as we now find it, about the year 1272. From this period to the building of the choir of St. Ouen, at Rouen, 1318-1339, there is a remarkable deficiency of great examples in France. The intermediate space is very imperfectly filled by the examples of St. Urbain at Troyes, St. Benigne at Dijon, and a few others. These are just sufficient to show how exquisite the style then was, and what we have lost by almost all the cathedrals of France having been commenced simultaneously, and none being left in which the experience of their predecessors could be made available.

Though the plans of these cathedrals differ to some extent, their dimensions are very nearly the same; that at—

Paris, covering about 64,108 feet. Chartres 68,260 feet. Rheims 67,475 feet. Amiens 71,208 feet.

These dimensions, though inferior to those of Cologne, Milan, Seville, and some other exceptional buildings, are still as large as those of any erected in the Middle Ages.

The cathedral of Paris was designed at a time when the architects had not obtained that confidence in their own skill which made them afterwards complete masters of the constructive difficulties of the design. As shown in the plan (Woodcut No. 620), the points of support are far more numerous and are placed nearer to one another than is usually the case; and as may be seen from the section, instead of two tall storeys, the height is divided into three, and made up, if I may so express it, of a series of cells built over and beside each, so as to obtain immense strength with a slight expenditure of materials.

It must at the same time be confessed that this result was obtained with a considerable sacrifice of grandeur and simplicity of effect. Even before the building was completed, the architects seem to have become aware of these defects; and as is shown in the woodcut (No. 622), the simple undivided windows of the clerestory were cut down so as to give them the greatest possible height, and the roof of the upper gallery made flat to admit of this. Subsequently larger windows were introduced between the buttresses, with a view to obtaining fewer and larger parts, and also of course to admit of larger surfaces for painted glass. With all these improvements the cathedral has not internally the same grandeur as the other three, though externally there is a very noble simplicity of outline and appearance of solidity in the whole design. Internally it still retains, as may be seen from the plan, the hexapartite arrangement in its vaults over the central aisle, and the quadripartite in the side-aisles only. This causes the central vault to overpower those on each side, and makes not only the whole church, but all parts, look much smaller than would have been the case had the roof been cut into smaller divisions, as was always subsequently the case.

At Chartres most of these defects were avoided; there is there a simplicity of design and a grandeur of conception seldom surpassed. The great defect of proportion in that building arises from the circumstance that the architect included the three aisles of the old church in the central aisle of the present one. At that time the architects had not attained that daring perfection of execution which afterwards enabled them to carry the vaults to so astonishing a height. At Chartres the proportion of width to height is nearly as 1 to 2, the breadth of the central nave being nearly 50 ft., and the height only 106. With the great length of such buildings found in England such proportions were tolerable, but in the shorter French cathedrals it gives an appearance of depression which is far from being pleasing; and as the painted glass has been almost entirely removed from the nave, a cold glare now pervades the whole, which renders it extremely difficult to form an opinion of the original effect.

Most of those defects were avoided by the builders of the cathedral at Rheims, and nothing can exceed the simple beauty and perfection of the arrangement of the plan, as well as of the general harmony of all the parts. The proportion, both in width and height, of the side-aisles to the central nave, and the absence of side chapels and of any subsequent additions, render the nave one of the most perfect in France. The mode in which the church expands as you approach the choir, and the general arrangement of the eastern part,[37] as shown in the plan (Woodcut No. 624), are equally excellent, and are surpassed by no building of the Middle Ages. The piers are perhaps a little heavy, and their capitals want simplicity; the triforium is if anything too plain; and at the present day the effect of light in the church is in one respect reversed, inasmuch as the clerestory retains its painted glass, which in the side-aisles has been almost totally destroyed, making the building appear as though lighted from below—an arrangement highly destructive of architectural beauty. Notwithstanding all this, it far surpasses those buildings which preceded it, and is only equalled by Amiens and those completed afterwards. Their superiority however arose from the introduction just at the time of their erection of complicated window-tracery, enabling the builders to dispense almost wholly with solid walls, and to make their clerestories at least one blaze of gorgeous colouring. By the improvement in tracery then introduced, they were able to dispose the glass in the most beautiful forms, and framed in stone, so as to render it, notwithstanding its extent, still an integral part of the whole building. In this respect the great height of the clerestory at Amiens, and its exceeding lightness, give it an immense advantage over the preceding churches, although this is gained at the sacrifice, to a certain extent, of the sober and simple majesty of the earlier examples. There is, nevertheless, so much beauty and so much poetry in the whole effect that it is scarcely fair to apply the cold rules of criticism to so fanciful and fascinating a creation.

Externally the same progress is observable in these four cathedrals as in their interior arrangements. The façade of the cathedral at Paris (Woodcut No. 626) is simple in its outline, and bold and majestic in all its parts, and though perhaps a little open to the charge of heaviness, it is admirably adapted to its situation, and both in design and proportion fits admirably to the church to which it is attached. The flanks, too, of the building, as originally designed, must have been singularly beautiful; for, though sadly disfigured by the insertion of chapels, which obliterate the buttresses and deprive it of that light and shade so indispensable to architectural effect, there yet remain a simplicity of outline, and an elegance in the whole form of the building, which have not often been excelled in Gothic structures.

The lower part of the façade at Chartres (Woodcut No. 627) is older than that of Paris, and so plain (it might almost be called rude) as hardly to admit of comparison with it; but its two spires, of different ages, are unsurpassed in France. Even in the southern or older of the two, which was probably finished in the 12th century, we find all the elements which were so fully developed in Germany and elsewhere in the following centuries. The change from the square to the octagon, and from the perpendicular part to the sloping sides of the spire, are managed with the most perfect art; and were not the effect it produces destroyed by the elaborate richness of the other spire, it would be considered one of the most beautiful of its class. The new or northern spire was erected by Jean Texier between the years 1507 and 1514, and, notwithstanding the lateness of its date, it must be considered as on the whole the most beautifully designed spire on the continent of Europe; and, though not equal in height,[38] certainly far surpassing in elegance of outline and appropriateness of design those at Strasburg, Vienna, or even Antwerp. If it has rivals it is that at Friburg, or those designed for the cathedral at Cologne; but were its details of the same date, it can hardly be doubted that it would be considered the finest spire of the three.

The transepts at Chartres have more projection than those of Paris, and were originally designed with two towers to each, and two others were placed one on each side of the choir; so that the cathedral would have had eight towers altogether if completed; but none except the western two have been carried higher than the springing of the roof; and though they serve to vary the outline, they do not relieve, to the extent they might have done, the heavy massiveness of the roof. In other respects the external beauty of the cathedral is somewhat injured by the extreme heaviness of the flying buttresses, which were deemed necessary to resist the thrust of the enormous vault of the central nave; and, though each is in itself a massive and beautiful object, they crowd the clerestory to an inconvenient extent; the effect of which is also somewhat injured by the imperfect tracery of the windows, each of which more resembles separate openings grouped together than one grand and simple window.

The progress that took place between this building and that at Rheims is more remarkable on the exterior than even in the interior. The façade of that church, though small as compared with some others, was perhaps the most beautiful structure produced during the Middle Ages; and, though it is difficult to institute a rigorous comparison between things so dissimilar, there is perhaps no façade either of ancient or of modern times, that surpasses it in beauty of proportion and details, or in fitness for the purpose for which it was designed. Nothing can exceed the majesty of its deeply-recessed triple portals, the beauty of the rose-window that surmounts them, or the elegance of the gallery that completes the façade and serves as a basement to the light and graceful towers that crown the composition. These were designed to carry spires, no doubt as elegant and appropriate as themselves; but this part of the design was never completed. The beautiful range of buttresses which adorn the flanks of the building are also perhaps the most beautiful in France, and carry the design of the façade back to the transepts. These are late and less ornate than the western front, but are still singularly beautiful, though wanting the two towers designed to complete them. On the intersection of the nave with the transepts there rose at one time a spire of wood, probably as high as the intended spires of the western towers, and one still crowns the ridge of the chevet, rising to half the height above the roof that the central one was intended to attain. Were these all complete, we should have the beau ideal externally of a French cathedral, with one central and two western spires, and four towers at the ends of the transepts. All these perhaps never were fully completed in any instance, though the rudiments of the arrangement are found in almost all the principal French cathedrals. In some, as for instance at Rouen, it was carried out in number, though at such different periods and of such varied design as to destroy that unity of effect essential to perfect beauty.

The external effect of Amiens may be taken rather as an example of the defects of the general design of French cathedrals than as an illustration of their beauties. The western façade presents the same general features as those of Paris and Rheims, but the towers are so small in proportion to the immense building behind as to look mean and insignificant, while all the parts are so badly put together as to destroy in a great measure the effect they were designed to produce. The northern tower is 223 ft. high, the southern 205; both therefore are higher than those at York, but instead of being appropriate and beautiful adjuncts to the building they are attached to, they only serve in this instance to exaggerate the gigantic incubus of a roof, 208 ft. in height, which overpowers the building it is meant to adorn.

The same is the case with the central spire, which, though higher than that at Salisbury, being 422 ft. high from the pavement, is reduced from the same cause to comparative insignificance, and is utterly unequal to the purpose of relieving the heaviness of outline for which this cathedral is remarkable. The filling up of the spaces between the buttresses of the nave with chapels prevents the transepts from having their full value, and gives an unpleasing fulness and flatness to the entire design.

All French cathedrals are more or less open to these objections, and are deficient in consequence of that exquisite variety of outline and play of light and shade for which the English examples are so remarkable; but it still remains a question how far the internal loftiness and the glory of their painted glass compensate for these external defects. The truth perhaps would be found in a mean between the two extremes, which has not unfortunately been attained in any one example; and this arises mainly from the fact that, besides the effect of mass or beauty of outline, there were many minor considerations of use or beauty that governed the design. We must consequently look closely at the details, and restore, in imagination at least, the building in all its completeness, before we can discover how far the general effect was necessarily sacrificed for particular purposes.

What painted glass was to the interior of a French cathedral sculpture was to the exterior. Almost all the arrangements of the façade were modified mainly to admit of its display to the greatest possible extent. The three great cavernous porches of the lower part would be ugly and unmeaning in the highest degree without the sculptures that adorn them. The galleries above are mere ranges of niches, as unmeaning without their statues as the great mullioned windows without their “storeyed panes.” In such lateral porches too, as those for instance at Chartres, the architecture is wholly subordinate to the sculpture; and in a perfect cathedral of the 13th century the buttresses, pinnacles, even the gargoyles, every “coign of vantage,” tells its tale by some image or representation of some living thing, giving meaning and animation to the whole. The cathedral thus became an immense collection of sculptures, containing not only the whole history of the world as then known and understood, but also of an immense number of objects representing the arts and sciences of the Middle Ages. Thus the great cathedrals of Chartres and Rheims even now retain some 5000 figures, scattered about or grouped together in various parts, beginning with the history of the creation of the world and all the wondrous incidents of the 1st chapter of Genesis, and thence continuing the history through the whole of the Old Testament. In these sculptures the story of the redemption of mankind is told as set forth in the New Testament, with a distinctness, and at the same time with an earnestness, almost impossible to surpass. On the other hand ranges of statues of kings of France and other popular potentates carry on the thread of profane history to the period of the erection of the cathedral itself. In addition to these we have interspersed with them, a whole system of moral philosophy, as illustrated by the virtues and the vices, each represented by an appropriate symbol, and the reward or punishment its invariable accompaniment. In other parts are shown all the arts of peace, every process of husbandry in its appropriate season, and each manufacture or handicraft in all its principal forms. Over all these are seen the heavenly hosts, with saints, angels, and archangels. All this is so harmoniously contrived and so beautifully expressed, that it becomes a question even now whether the sculpture of these cathedrals does not excel the architecture.

In the Middle Ages, when books were rare, and those who could read them rarer still, this sculpture was certainly most valuable as a means of popular education; but, as Victor Hugo beautifully expresses it, “Ceci tuera cela: le livre tuera l’Église.” The printing-press has rendered all this of little value to the present generation, and it is only through the eyes of the artist or the antiquary that we can even dimly appreciate what was actual instruction to the less educated citizens of the Middle Ages, and the medium through which they learned the history of the world, or heard the glad tidings of salvation conveyed from God to man. All this, few, if any, can fully enter into now; but unless it is felt to at least some extent, it is impossible these wonderful buildings can ever be appreciated. In the Middle Ages, the sculpture, the painting, the music of the people were all found in the cathedrals, and there only. Add to this their ceremonies, their sanctity, especially that conferred by the relics of saints and martyrs which they contained— all these things made these buildings all in all to those who erected and to those who worshipped in them.

The cathedral of Beauvais is generally mentioned in conjunction with that of Amiens, and justly so, not only in consequence of its local proximity, and from its being so near it in date, but also from a general similarity in style. Beauvais is in fact an exaggeration of Amiens, and shows defects of design more to be expected in Germany than in France. It was commenced five years later than Amiens, or in 1225, and the works were vigorously pursued between the years 1249 and 1267, though the dedication did not take place till 1272. The architects, in their rivalry of their great neighbour, seem to have attempted more than they had skill to perform, for the roof fell in in 1284, and when rebuilt, additional strength was given by the insertion of another pier between every two of those in the old design, which served to exaggerate the apparent height of the pier arches. Emboldened by this, they seem to have determined to carry the clerestory to the unprecedented height of 150 ft., or about three times the width, measuring from the centre of one pier to that of the next. It is difficult to say what the effect might have been had the cathedral been completed with a long nave, an acute vault, wide pier-spaces and bold massive supports; possibly however not so sublime as the choir alone is at present, for, owing to its limited floor area, the eye has only to glance aloft and the stupendous height and the magnificent construction produce an effect of splendour and size which is only excelled by that of the great Hall of Karnac and the interior of St. Sophia.[39] The qualities just quoted of the choir would seem to have inspired the builders of later generations, for although the south transept was commenced only in 1500, and the northern one thirty years later, being finished only in 1537, there is a simplicity and grandeur in their treatment which places them far ahead of the contemporary façade of the cathedral of Rouen, built (1509-30) by Cardinal d’Amboise, which is of a most florid character, and looks like a piece of rough rockwork encrusted with images and tabernacles, and ornamented from top to bottom. In 1555 the architects of Beauvais being seized with the desire of rivalling the dome of St. Peter’s at Rome, which was then the object of universal admiration, undertook the construction of a spire on the intersection of the transepts, which they completed in thirteen years, but which stood only five years from that time, having fallen down on the day of the Ascension in the year 1573. This accident so damaged the works under it as to require considerable reconstruction, which is what we now see. This spire, of which the original drawings still exist, was 486 ft. in height; and although, as might be expected from the age in which it was erected, not of the purest design, must still have been a very noble and beautiful object, hardly inferior to that of Chartres, which was built only half a century earlier.

Taken altogether, the cathedral of Beauvais may be considered as an example of that “vaulting ambition that o’erleaps itself.” Every principle of Gothic art is here carried to an extreme which tends to destroy the object with which it was designed, and not only partially has caused the ruin of the building and practically prevented its completion, but has run the risk of destroying its artistic effect, so as to make it an example of what should be avoided rather than of what should be followed. It has perhaps that want of repose and solidity which has often been made the reproach of Gothic architecture. And were it not for the perfection of its masonry and the majesty of its size, the additional piers which it was found necessary to insert might be regarded as props applied to prevent its falling, instead of suggesting, as they do, additional strength and insuring durability. There is one example in France in which this danger of carrying the principles of Gothic art to its extreme is painfully evident. The church of St. Urbain of Troyes, mentioned farther on, p. 155, and the choir of which has just been restored (1891) and filled with modern stained glass, resembles more an ephemeral construction in iron and glass, a sort of mediæval crystal palace, than one in which the solid construction of its masonry should give repose and a sense of solidity and strength.

The cathedral of Noyon is an earlier example, and one of the best and most elegant transition specimens in France, having been commenced about the year 1137, and completed, as we now see it, in 1167. Here the circular arch had not entirely disappeared, which was owing to its early date, and to its situation near the German border, and its connection with the see of Tournay, with which it was long united. Like the sister church of that place, it was triapsal, which gave it great elegance of arrangement. The one defect of this form seems to be, that it does not lend itself easily to the combination of towers which were then so much in vogue.

In singular contrast to this is the neighbouring cathedral of Laon, one of the very few in France which have no chevet. It terminates with a square east end, like an English church, except that it has there a great circular window only, instead of the immense wall of glass usually adopted in this country. In style it more resembles the cathedral of Paris than any other, though covering less ground and smaller in all its features. Its great glory is its crowning group of towers. The two western (with the exception of their spires) and the two at the end of the northern transept are complete. On the southern side only one has been carried to its full height, and the central lantern is now crowned by a low pyramidal roof instead of the tall spire that must once have adorned it; but even as they now are, the six that remain, whether seen from the immediate neighbourhood of the building or from the plain below—for it stands most nobly on the flat top of a high isolated hill— have a highly picturesque and pleasing effect, and notwithstanding the rudeness of some of its details, and its deficiency in sculpture, it is in many respects one of the most interesting of the cathedrals of France.

One of the earliest of the complete pointed Gothic churches of France is that of Coutances (Woodcut No. 634), the whole of which belongs to the first half of the 13th century, and though poor in sculpture, makes up for this to some extent by the elegance of its architectural details, which are unrivalled or nearly so in France.

Externally it possesses two western spires, and one octagonal lantern over the intersection of the nave and transept, which, both for beauty of detail and appropriateness, is the best specimen of its class, and only wants the crowning spire to make this group of towers equal to anything on this side of the channel.

Notre Dame de Dijon is another example of the same early and elegant age, but possessing the Burgundian peculiarity of a deeply recessed porch or narthex, surmounted by a façade of two open galleries, one over the other, exactly in the manner of the churches of Pisa and Lucca of the 11th and 12th centuries, of which it may be considered an imitation. It is, however, as unsatisfactory in pointed Gothic, even with the very best details, as it is in the pseudo-classical style of Pisa, forming in either case a remarkably unmeaning mode of decoration.

The cathedrals of Sens and Auxerre are pure examples of pointed architecture. The latter (A.D. 1213) internally rivals perhaps even Coutances. Nothing can be more elegant than the junction of the lady chapel here with the chevet; for though this is almost always pleasingly arranged, the design has been unusually successful in this instance. The two slender shafts, shown in the Woodcut No. 635, just suffice to give it pre-eminence and dignity, without introducing any feature so large as to disturb the harmony of the whole.

In the great church of St. Quentin, the five chapels of the chevet have each two pillars, arranged similarly to these of the lady chapel at Auxerre; and though the effect is rich and varied, the result is not quite so happy as in this instance. Taken altogether, however, few chevets in France are more perfect and beautiful than this almost unknown example.

The cathedral of Troyes, commenced in 1206, and continued steadily for more than three centuries, is one of the few in France, designed originally with five aisles and a range of chapels. The effect, however, is far from satisfactory. The great width thus given makes the whole appear low, and the choir wants that expansion and dignity which is so pleasing at Rheims and Chartres. Still the details and design of the earlier parts are good and elegant; and the west front (Woodcut No. 637), though belonging wholly to the 16th century, is one of the most pleasing specimens of flamboyant work in France, being rich without exuberance, and devoid of the bad taste that sometimes disfigures works of this class and age.

The cathedral at Soissons is one of the most pleasing of all these churches. Nothing can surpass the justness of the proportions of the central and side aisles both in themselves and to one another. Though the church is not large, and principally of that age—the latter half of the 13th century—in which the effect depended so much on painted glass, now destroyed or disarranged, it still deserves a place in the first rank of French cathedrals.

The two cathedrals of Toul and Tours present many points of great beauty, but their most remarkable features are their western façades, both of late date, each possessing two towers terminating in octagonal lanterns, with details verging on the style of the Renaissance, and yet so Gothic in design and so charmingly executed as almost to induce the belief, in spite of the fanciful extravagance which it displays, that the architects were approaching to something new and beautiful when the mania for classical details overtook them.

The two cathedrals of Limoges and Dijon belong to the latter half of the 13th century, and will consequently when better known fill a gap painfully felt in the history of the art.

It would be tedious to enumerate all the great cathedrals of the country, or to attempt to describe their peculiarities; but we must not omit all mention of such as Lisieux, remarkable for its beautiful façade, and Evreux, for the beauty of many of its parts, though the whole is too much a patchwork to produce an entirely pleasing effect. Nevers, too, is remarkable as being one of the only two double-apse cathedrals in France, Besançon being the other. At Nevers this was owing to the high altar having been originally at the west, a defect felt to be intolerable in France in the 16th century, when the church was rebuilt, when it was done without destroying the old sanctuary. Bordeaux, already mentioned for its noble nave without aisles, possesses a chevet worthy of it, and two spires of great beauty at the ends of the transepts, the only spires so placed, I think, in France. Autun has a spire on the intersection of the nave with the transepts as beautiful as anything of the same class elsewhere. The cathedral of Lyons is interesting, as showing how hard it was for the Southern people of France to shake off their old style and adopt that of their Northern neighbours. With much grandeur and elegance of details, it is still so clumsy in design, that neither the whole nor any of its parts can be considered as satisfactory. The windows, for instance, as shown in the woodcut (No. 638), look more like specimens of the so-called carpenter’s Gothic of modern times than examples of the art of the Middle Ages.

There still remains to be mentioned the cathedral at Rouen. This remarkable building possesses parts belonging to all ages, and exhibits most of the beauties, as also, it must be confessed, most of the defects of each style. It was erected with a total disregard to all rule, yet so splendid and so picturesque that we are almost driven to the wild luxuriance of nature to find anything to which we can compare it. Internally its nave, though rich, is painfully cut up into small parts. The undivided piers of the choir, on the contrary, are too simple for their adjuncts. Externally, the transept towers are beautiful in themselves, but are overpowered by the richness of those of the west front. The whole of that façade, in spite of the ruin of some of its most important features, and the intrusion of much modern vulgarity, may be called a romance in stone, consisting as it does of a profusion of the most playful fancies. Like most of the cathedrals near our shores, that of Rouen was designed to have a central spire; this, however, was not completed till late in the cinque-cento age, and then only in vulgar woodwork, meant to imitate stone. That being destroyed, an attempt has lately been made to replace it by still more vulgar iron-work, leaner and poorer than almost anything else of modern times.

In the preceding pages, all mention of the cathedrals of Bazas and Bourges has been purposely omitted, because they belong to a different type from the above. The first (Woodcut No. 639) is one of the most perfect specimens of the pure Gothic style in the South of France. Its noble triple portal, filled with exquisite sculpture, and its extensive chevet, make it one of the most beautiful of its class. It shows no trace of a transept,—a peculiarity, as before pointed out, by no means uncommon in the South. This, though a defect in so far as external effect is concerned, gives great value to the internal dimensions, the appearance of length being far greater than when the view is broken by the intersection of the transept.

This is still more striking at Bourges, where the cathedral, though one of the finest and largest in France, covering 73,170 square feet, is still one of the shortest, being only 405 ft. in extreme length; yet, owing to the central aisle being wholly unbroken, it appears one of the longest, as it certainly is one of the most majestic of all. This cathedral possesses also another Southern peculiarity of more questionable advantage, in having five aisles in three different heights. The section (Woodcut No. 640) will explain this. The central aisle is 117 ft. in height, those next to it 66 ft. high, the two outer only 28. These last appear to destroy the harmony of the whole, for on an inspection of the building, the outer aisles do not appear to belong to the design, but look more like afterthoughts. At Milan, Bologna, and other places in Italy, where this gradation is common, this mistake is avoided, and the effect proportionably increased; and except that this arrangement does not admit of such large window spaces, in other respects it is not quite clear that, where double aisles are used, it would not always be better that they should be of different heights. This arrangement of the aisles was never again fairly tried in France; but even as it is, the cathedral of Bourges must rank after the four first mentioned as the finest and most perfect of the remaining edifices of its class in that country. It is singularly beautiful in its details, and happy in its main proportions; for owing to the omission of the transept, the length is exquisitely adapted to the other dimensions. Had a transept been added, at least 100 ft. of additional length would have been required to restore the harmony; and though externally it would no doubt have gained by such an adjunct, this gain would not have been adequate to the additional expense so incurred.

The greater part of the western façade of this cathedral is of a later date than the building itself, and is extended so much beyond the proportions required for effect as to overpower the rest of the building, so that it is only from the sides or the eastern end that all the beauty of this church can be appreciated.

As far as regards size or richness of decoration, the cathedral of Orleans deserves to rank as one of the very first in France, and is remarkable as the only first-class Gothic cathedral erected in Europe since the Middle Ages. The original church on this site having been destroyed by the Calvinists, the present cathedral was commenced in the year 1601 by Henry IV. of France, and although the rebuilding proceeded at first with great vigour, and the work was never wholly discontinued, it is even now hardly completed.

Considering the age in which it was built, and the contemporary specimens of so-called Gothic art erected in France and England, it is wonderful how little of classical admixture has been allowed to creep into the design of this building, and how closely it adhered to every essential of the style adopted. In plan, in arrangement, and indeed in details, it is so correct, that it requires considerable knowledge to define the difference between this and an older building of the same class. Still there is a wide difference, which makes itself felt though not easily described, and consists in the fact that the old cathedrals were built by men who had a true perception of their art; while the modern example only bears evidence of a well-learnt lesson distinctly repeated, but without any real feeling for the subject. This want betrays itself in an unmeaning repetition of parts, in a deficiency of depth and richness, and in a general poverty of invention.

COLLEGIATE CHURCHES.

It would not be difficult to select out of the collegiate churches of France as complete a series as of the cathedrals, though of inferior size. But having already gone through the one class of buildings, we must confine ourselves to a brief notice of the other. The church of Charité sur Loire was one of the most picturesque and beautiful in France. It is now partially ruined, though still retaining enough of its original features to illustrate clearly the style to which it belongs. Originally the church was about 350 ft. in length by 90 in breadth. One tower of the western front, one aisle, and the whole of the choir still remain, and belong without doubt to the church dedicated in 1106 by Pope Pascal. The presence of the pointed form in the pier arches and vaults has induced some to believe that this church belongs to the reign of Philip Augustus, about a century later, and when the church was restored after a great fire. Its southern position, however, the circumstance of its being the earliest daughter church of the abbey of Cluny, and the whole style of the building, are proofs of its earlier age. All the decorative parts, and all the external openings, still retain the circular form as essentially as if the pointed had never been introduced.

The most remarkable feature in this church is the exuberance of the ornament with which all the parts are decorated, so very unlike the massive rudeness of the contemporary Norman or Northern styles. The capitals of the pillars, the arches of the triforium, the jambs of the windows and the cornices, all show a refinement and love of ornament characteristic of a far more advanced and civilised people than those of the Northern provinces of France.

Among those who were present at the dedication of this church was the Abbé Suger, then a gay young man of twenty years of age, who about thirty years later, in the plenitude of his power, commenced the building of the abbey of St. Denis, near Paris, the west front of which was dedicated in the year 1140, and rest of the church built “stupendâ celeritate,” and dedicated in 1144. Though certainly not the earliest, St. Denis may be considered as the typical example of the earliest pointed Gothic in France. It terminated the era of transition, and fixed the epoch when the Northern pointed style became supreme, to the total exclusion of the round-arched style that preceded it. The effect of Suger’s church is now destroyed by a nave of the 14th century—of great beauty it must be confessed—which is interpolated between the western front and the choir, both which remain in all essentials as left by him, and enable us to decide without hesitation on the state of architectural art at the time of the dedication of the church.

A few years later was commenced the once celebrated abbey of Pontigny, near Auxerre, probably in 1150, and completed, as we now find it, within 15 or 20 years from that date.

Externally it displays an almost barn-like simplicity, having no towers or pinnacles—plain undivided windows, and no ornament of any sort. The same simplicity reigns in the interior, but the varied form and play of light and shade here relieve it to a sufficient extent, and make it altogether, if not one of the most charming examples of its age, at least one of the most instructive, as showing how much effect can be obtained by ornamental arrangement with the smallest possible amount of ornament. In obedience to the rules of the Cistercian order, it neither had towers nor painted glass, which last circumstance perhaps adds to its beauty, as we now see it, for the windows being small, admit just light enough for effect, without the painful glare that now streams through the large mullioned windows of the cathedral of Auxerre.

To the Englishman, Pontigny should be more than usually interesting, as it was here that the three most celebrated archbishops of Canterbury— Becket, Langton, and Edmund—found an asylum when driven by the troubles of their native land to seek a refuge abroad, and the bones of the last-named sainted prelate are said still to remain in the châsse, represented in the woodcut, and are now and have been for centuries the great object of worship here.

About a century after the erection of these two early specimens, we have two others, the dates of which are ascertained, and which exhibit the pointed style in its greatest degree of perfection. The first, the Sainte Chapelle in Paris, was commenced in 1241, and dedicated in 1244;[41] the other, the church of St. Urban at Troyes, was begun in 1262, and the choir and transept completed in 1266. Both are only fragments—choirs to which it was originally intended to add naves of considerable extent. The proportions of the Sainte Chapelle are in consequence somewhat too tall and short; but the noble simplicity of its design, the majesty of its tall windows, and the beauty of all its details, render it one of the most perfect examples of the style at its culminating point in the reign of St. Louis. Now that the whole of the painted glass has been restored, and the walls repainted according to what may be assumed to have been the original design, we are enabled to judge of the effect of such a building in the Middle Ages. It may be that our eyes are not educated up to the mark, or that the restorers have not quite grasped the ancient design; but the effect as now seen is certainly not quite satisfactory. The painted glass is glorious, but the effect would certainly have been more pleasing if all the structural parts of the architecture had been of one colour. There is no repose about the interior—nothing to explain the construction. The flat parts may have been painted as they now are; but surely the shafts and ribs could only have been treated as stone.

The other was founded by Pope Urban IV., a native of Troyes, and would have been completed as a large and magnificent church, but for the opposition of some contumacious nuns, who had sufficient power and influence even in those days to thwart the designs of the Pope himself. Its great perfection is the beauty of its details, in which it is unsurpassed by anything in France or in Germany; its worst defect is a certain exaggerated temerity of construction, which tends to show how fast, even when this church was designed, architecture was passing from the hands of the true artist into those of the mason, whose attempts to astonish by wonders of construction then and ever afterwards completely marred the progress of the art which was thought to be thereby promoted.

About seventy years after this we come to the choir of St. Ouen, and to another beautiful little church, Ste. Marie de l’Épine (Woodcut No. 644), near Châlons sur Marne, commenced apparently about 1329, though not completed till long afterwards.[42] It is small—a miniature cathedral in fact—like our St. Mary Redcliffe, which in many respects it resembles, and is a perfect bijou of its class. One western spire remains—the other was destroyed to make room for a telegraph—and is not only beautiful in itself, but interesting as almost the only example of an open-work spire in France.

The church of St. Ouen, at Rouen, was beyond comparison the most beautiful and perfect of the abbey edifices of France. This was commenced by Marc d’Argent in the year 1318, and was carried on uninterruptedly for twenty-one years, and at his death the choir and transept were completed, or very nearly so. The English wars interrupted at this time the progress of this, as of many other buildings, and the works of the nave were not seemingly resumed till about 1490, and twenty-five years later the beautiful western front was commenced.

Except that of Limoges, the choir is almost the only perfect building of its age, and being nearly contemporary with the choir at Cologne (1276 to 1321), affords a means of comparison between the two styles of Germany and France at that age, entirely to the advantage of the French example, which, though very much smaller, avoids all the more glaring faults of the other.

Nothing indeed can exceed the beauty of proportion of this most elegant church; and except that it wants the depth and earnestness of the earlier examples, it may be considered as the most beautiful thing of its kind in Europe. The proportion too of the nave, transepts, and choir to one another is remarkably happy, and affords a most striking contrast to the very imperfect proportions of Cologne. Its three towers also would have formed a perfect group as originally designed, but the central one was not completed till so late, that its details have lost the aspiring character of the building on which it stands, and the western spires, as rebuilt within the last few years, are incongruous and inappropriate; whereas had the original design been carried out according to the drawings which still exist, it would have been one of the most beautiful façades known anywhere. The diagonal position of the towers met most happily the difficulty of giving breadth to the façade without placing them beyond the line of the aisles, as is done in the cathedral of Rouen, and at the same time gave a variety to the perspective which must have had the most pleasing effect. Had the idea occurred earlier, few western towers would have been placed otherwise; but the invention came too late, and within the last few years we have seen all traces of the arrangement ruthlessly obliterated.

The style of the choir of this church may be fairly judged from the view of the southern porch (Woodcut No. 647). This has all that perfection of detail which we are accustomed to admire in Cologne Cathedral, and the works of the time of our Second Edward, combined with a degree of lightness and grace peculiar to this church. The woodcut is too small to show the details of the sculpture in the tympanum above the doors, but that too is of exquisite beauty, and being placed where it can be so well seen, and at the same time so perfectly protected, it heightens the architectural design without in any way seeming to interfere with it. This is a somewhat rare merit in French portals. In most of them it is evident that the architect has been controlled in his design in order to make room for the immense quantity of sculpture which usually crowds them. On the other hand, the position of the figures is often forced and constrained, and the bas-reliefs nearly unintelligible, from the architects having been unable to give the sculptor that unencumbered space which was requisite for the full development of his ideas.

It would be easy to select numerous examples from the collegiate and parish churches of France to extend this series. Our limits will not, however, admit of the mention of more than one other instance. The sepulchral church of Brou en Bresse was erected between 1511 and 1536, by Margaret of Austria, daughter of Maximilian, and aunt of Charles V., Emperor of Germany. It was therefore nearly contemporary with Henry VII.’s Chapel at Westminster, and thus affords the means of comparison between the English and French styles of the day, which is wholly in favour of our own; both are the most florid specimens of their class in either country, but at Brou, both externally and internally, all majesty of form and constructive propriety are lost sight of; and though we wonder that stone could be cut into such a marvellous variety of lace-like forms, and are dazzled by the splendour of the whole, it is with infinite pleasure that we turn from these elaborate specimens of declining taste to an earlier and purer style. Fascinating as some of these late buildings undoubtedly are from the richness of decorative fancy that reigns in every detail, still they can only be regarded as the productions of the stonemason and carver, and not of the arts of the architect or sculptor so called.

In the city of Rouen we also find the beautiful church of St. Maclou (1432-1500), a gorgeous specimen of the later French style, presenting internally all the attenuation and defects of its age; but in the five arcades of its beautiful western front it displays one of the richest and most elegant specimens of flamboyant work in France. It also shows what the façade of St. Ouen would have been if completed as designed. This church once possessed a noble central tower and spire, destroyed in 1794. When all this was complete, few churches of its age could have competed with it.

St. Jacques at Dieppe is another church of the same age, and possessing the same lace-like beauty of detail and elaborate finish, which charms in spite of soberer reason, that tells us it is not in stone that such vagaries should be attempted. Abbeville, St. Riquier, and all the principal towns throughout that part of France, are rich in specimens of the late Gothic, of which we are now speaking. These specimens are in many respects beautiful, but in all that constitutes true and good art they are inferior to those of the glorious epoch which preceded them.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

X. CONTENTS

Gothic details—Pillars—Windows—Circular windows—Bays—Vaults—Buttresses— Pinnacles—Spires—Decoration—Construction—Furniture of churches— Domestic architecture.

ALTHOUGH in the preceding pages, in describing the principal churches of France, mention has been made of the various changes of detail which took place from the time of the introduction of the pointed style till its abandonment in favour of the revived classical, still it seems necessary to recapitulate the leading changes that were introduced. This will be most fitly done before we leave the subject of French architecture, that being on the whole the most complete and harmonious of all the pointed styles, as well as the earliest.

PILLARS.

Of these details, the first that arrests the attention of the inquirer is the form of the pillars or piers used in the Middle Ages, inasmuch as it is the feature that bears the most immediate resemblance to the typical forms of preceding styles. Indeed, the earlier pillars in the round-arched style were virtually rude imitations of Roman originals, made so thick and heavy as to bear without apparent stress the whole weight of the arches they supported, and of the superincumbent wall. This increase of the weight laid upon the pillars, and consequently in their strength and heaviness, was the great change introduced into the art of building in the early round Gothic style. With the same requirements the classic architects either must have thickened their pillars immensely, or coupled them in some way. Indeed the Romans, in such buildings as the Colosseum, placed the pillars in front and a pier behind, which last was the virtual support of the wall. The Gothic architects improved on this by adding a pillar, or rather a half pillar, on each side, to receive the pier arches, and carrying up those behind and in front to support the springing of the vault or roof, instead of the useless entablature of the Romans.

By this means the pier became in plan what is represented in figs. 1 and 2 in the diagram (Woodcut No. 648). Sometimes it was varied, as represented in fig. 3, where the angle-shafts were only used to lighten the apparent heaviness of the central mass; in other examples both these modes are combined, as in fig. 4, which not only constructively, but artistically, is one of the most beautiful combinations which the square forms are capable of, combining great strength with great lightness of appearance, and variety of light and shade.

These four forms may be said to be typical in the South, where the style was derived so directly from the Roman square pier combined with an attached circular pillar.

In the North the Normans, and generally speaking, all the Frankish tribes, used the circular pillar in preference to the square pier, and consequently the variations were as shown in figs. 5, 6, 7, and 8, which, though forming beautiful combinations, wanted the accentuation produced by the contrast between the square and round forms.

The architects after a time seemed to have felt this, and tried to remedy it by introducing ogee forms and sharp edges, with deep undercut shadows, thus applying to the pillars those forms which had been invented for the mouldings of the ribs of the vaults, and for the tracery of the windows. The expedient was perfectly successful at first, and, so long as it was practised in moderation, gave rise to some of the most beautiful forms of pillars to be found in any style. It proved, however, too tempting an opportunity for the indulgence of every sort of quirk and quibble; and after passing through the shapes shown in figs. 9 and 10, where the meaning of all the parts is still sufficiently manifest, it became as complicated as fig. 11, and sometimes even more cut up, so that all meaning and beauty was lost. It became moreover very expensive and difficult to execute, so that in later times the architects reverted, either to circular pillars, or to such a form as that shown in fig. 12, which was introduced in the 16th century. The change may have been partly introduced from motives of economy, and also to some extent from a desire to imitate the flutings of classical pillars; but from whatever motive it arose, it is singularly unmeaning and inartistic; and as the capital was at the same time omitted, the whole pillar took an appearance of cold poverty entirely at variance with the true spirit of Gothic art. This last change showed, perhaps more clearly than those introduced into any other feature, how entirely the art had died away before the classical styles superseded it.

WINDOWS.

Before painted glass came into use, very small apertures sufficed to admit the required quantity of light into the churches. These openings retained their circular-arched heads long after the pointed form pervaded the vaults and pier arches, because the architects still thought them the most beautiful; they moreover occupied so small a portion of the wall spaces that their lines neither came in contact nor interfered with the constructive lines of the building itself; but when it was required to enlarge them for the purpose of receiving large pictures, the retention of the circular form was no longer practicable.

The Woodcut No. 622, showing the side elevation of Notre Dame at Paris, illustrates well three stages of this process as practised in the 12th and 13th centuries. It exhibits first the large undivided window without mullions, the glass being supported by strong iron bars; next, that with one mullion and a circular rose in the head; and lastly, in the lower storey, a complete traceried window. The transition from the old small window to the first of these is easily explained, and the Woodcut No. 649, representing one of the windows in St. Martin at Paris, will explain the transition from the first to the second. Instead of one large undivided opening, it was often thought more expedient to introduce two lancets side by side; but as these never filled, nor could fill, the space of one bay so as to follow its principal lines, it became usual to introduce a circular window of greater or less size between their heads. This, with the rude construction of the age, presented certain difficulties which were obviated by carrying the masonry of the vault through the wall so as to form a discharging arch. When once this was done it required only a glance from an experienced builder to see that if the discharging arch were strong enough, the whole of the wall between the buttresses might be removed without endangering the safety of the building. This was accordingly soon done. The pier between the two lancets became attenuated into a mullion, the circle lost its independence, and was grouped with them under the discharging arch, which was carried down each side in boldly splayed jambs, and the whole became in fact a traceried window.

In the cathedral at Chartres we have examples of the two extremes of these transitional windows. In the windows of the aisles of the nave (Woodcut No. 650) the circle is small and insignificant, and only serves to join together the two lancets. In the clerestory (Woodcut No. 651), which is somewhat later, the circle is all important and quite overpowers the lower part. Here it is in fact a circular window, supported by a rectilinear substructure. In both these instances the discharging arch still retains its circular form, and the tracery is still imperfect, inasmuch as all the openings are only holes of various forms cut into a flat surface, whereas to make it perfect, it is necessary that the lines of two contiguous openings should blend together, being separated by a straight or curved moulded mullion, and not merely pierced as they are in this instance. This may perhaps be better illustrated by one of the windows of the side-aisles at Rheims, where the pointed Gothic window has become complete in all its essential parts. Even here it will be observed how awkwardly the circle fits into the spherical triangle of the upper part of the window. Indeed, there is an insuperable awkwardness in the small triangles necessarily left in fitting circles into the spaces above the lancets, and beneath the pointed head of the openings. When four or five lights were used instead of two, this defect became more apparent; and even in the example from St. Ouen (Woodcut No. 653). one of the most beautiful in France, the architect has not been able to obviate the discordance between the conflicting lines of the circle and spherical triangle. At last, after two centuries of earnest trial, the builders of those days found themselves constrained to abandon entirely these beautiful constructive geometric forms, for tracery of a more manageable nature, and in place of the circle they invented first a flowing tracery, of which the window at Chartres (Woodcut No. 654) is an exquisite example; and then having shaken off the trammels of constructive form, launched at once into all the vagaries of the flamboyant style. In this style stone tracery was made to look bent and twisted, as willow wands. Its forms, it must be confessed, were always graceful, but constructively weak, and frequently extravagant, showing a complete contrast to the contemporary perpendicular style followed in England. That failed from the stiffness of its forms; this from the fantastic pliancy with which so rigid a material as stone was used. Greatness or grandeur was as impossible in flamboyant tracery, as grace and beauty were with the perpendicular style; still for domestic edifices, and for the smaller churches erected in the 16th century, it must be confessed the flamboyant style has a charm it is impossible to resist. It is so graceful and so fantastically brilliant, that it captivates in spite of our soberer reason, lending as it does an elegance to every edifice where it is found, and finding its parallel alone among the graceful fancies of the Saracenic architects of the best age.

CIRCULAR WINDOWS.

By far the most brilliant examples of this class in France are to be found among the great circular windows with which the west ends and transepts of the cathedrals were adorned. There is, I believe, no instance in France of the great straight-mullioned windows of which our architects were so fond, and even where the east end terminates squarely, as at Laon, it has a great rose window. There can be little doubt that the circle, so long as it was wholly adhered to, was the noblest form architecturally, both externally and internally; but when the triforium below it was pierced, and the lower angles outside the circle were filled with tracery, making it into something like our great windows, the result was a confusion of the two modes, in which the advantages of neither were preserved.

Of the earlier circular windows, one of the finest is that in the western front at Chartres (Woodcut No. 655), of imperfect tracery, like the greater part of that cathedral, but of great size and majesty. Its diameter is 39 ft. across the openings, and 44 ft. 6 in. across to the outer mouldings of the circle. Those of the transepts are smaller, being only 33 ft. across the opening, but show a considerable advance in the art of tracery, which by the time they were executed was becoming far better understood.

If space admitted, it would be easy to select examples to trace the progress of the invention between these early efforts and the almost perfect window that adorns the centre of the west front at Rheims (Woodcut No. 657); and again from this to that at Evreux (Woodcut No. 658). In the latter instance, the geometric forms have given way to the lace-work of flowing tracery, of which this is a pleasing example. It is further remarkable in respect that all the parts of the tracery or mullions are of the same thickness, whereas it is usual in flowing or flamboyant tracery to introduce a considerable degree of subordination into the parts, dividing them into greater or smaller ribs, thus avoiding confusion and giving to the whole a constructive appearance which it otherwise would not possess. This is very apparent in such a window as that which adorns the west front of St. Ouen, at Rouen, where the parts are distinctly subordinated to one another, and have consequently that strength and character which it is so difficult to impart. It also exemplifies what was before alluded to, viz., the mode in which the lower external angles of the circle were filled up, and also, in a far more pleasing manner than usual, the mode in which the pierced triforium is made to form part of the decoration. Owing to the strong transom bar here employed, there is strength enough to support the superstructure; but as too often is the case, when this is subdued and kept under, there is a confusion between the circular and upright parts, which is not pleasing. It is then neither a circular nor an upright window, but an indeterminate compound of two pleasing members, in which both suffer materially by juxtaposition.

I believe it is safe to assert, that out of at least a hundred first-class examples of these circular windows, which still exist in France, no two are alike. On the contrary, they present the most striking dissimilarity of design. There is no feature on which the French architects bestowed more pains, or in which they were more successful. They are, indeed, the chefs-d’œuvre of their decorative abilities, and the most pleasing individual features of their greater churches. At the same time, they completely refute the idea that the pointed form is at all necessary for the production of beauty in decorative apertures.

BAYS.

It may be useful here to recapitulate what has been said of the subdivision of churches into bays, or, as the French call them, travées. The two typical arrangements of these are shown in Woodcuts Nos. 616 and 617, as existing before the introduction of the pointed forms. In the first a great gallery runs over the whole of the side aisle, introduced partly as a constructive expedient to serve the purpose for which flying buttresses were afterwards employed, partly as enabling the architect to obtain the required elevation without extraordinarily tall pillars or wide pier-spaces, both which were beyond the constructive powers of the earlier builders. These galleries were also useful as adding to the accommodation of the church, as people were able thence to see the ceremonies performed below, and to hear the mass and music as well as from the floor of the church. These advantages were counterbalanced by the greater dignity and architectural beauty of the second arrangement (Woodcut No. 617) where the whole height was divided into that of the side-aisles and of a clerestory, separated from one another by a triforium gallery, which represented in fact the depth of the wooden roof requisite to cover the side-aisles. When once this simple and beautiful arrangement was adopted, it continued with very little variation throughout the Middle Ages.[43] The proportions generally used were to make the aisles half the height of the nave. In other words, the string-course below the triforium divided the height into two equal parts; the space above that was divided into three, of which two were allotted to the clerestory, and one to the triforium.[44] It is true there is perhaps no single instance in which the proportions here given are exactly preserved, but they sufficiently represent the general division of the parts, from which the architects only deviated slightly, sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other, according to their taste or caprice. The only really important change afterwards introduced was that of glazing the triforium gallery also, by adopting a flat roof, or one nearly so, over the side-aisles, as the nave in the church of St. Ouen at Rouen, or by covering each bay by a pyramidal roof not seen from the interior, as is shown in the Woodcuts Nos. 621 and 641; the whole walls of the church, with the slight exception of the spandrils of the great pier-arches, having thus become walls of glass, the mass of the vault being supported only by the deep and bold constructive lines of which the framework of the glazed surfaces consists.

In England, we have not, as far as I am aware, any instance of a glazed triforium, but it is one of the most fascinating features in the later styles of the French architects, and where it retains its coloured glass, which is indispensable, produces the most fairy-like effect. It is however, questionable whether the deep shadow and constructive propriety of the English practice is not on the whole more satisfactory. In a structure of glass and iron nothing could be more appropriate than the French practice; but in a building of stone and wood more solidity is required to produce an effect which shall be permanently pleasing.

VAULTS.

It has already been explained how essential a part of a Gothic church the vault was, and how completely it was the governing power that gave form to the art. We have also seen the various steps by which the architects arrived at the intersecting vault, which became the typical form in the best age. In France especially the stone vault was retained throughout as a really essential feature, for though the English were so successful in the art of constructing ornamental wooden roofs, the practice never prevailed in France.

In the best age the arrangement of the French vaults was extremely simple. The aisles were generally built in square compartments, the vaults of which were first circumscribed, each by four equal arches (Woodcut No. 660), of which A A were transverse ribs or arcs doubleaux as the French called them, and were used, as we have seen, in the old tunnel-vaults. These arches, as springing from the main points of support, were the principal strengtheners of the vault, and served as permanent centres for the superstructure. B was called the formeret, and was a rib built into the wall, of the same form as the transverse ribs, and so called because, being the first constructed, it gave the form to the vault. Lastly, there were two more ribs springing from angle to angle, and intersecting one another at C. These were called ogives, from the Latin word augere, to strengthen,[45] the chief object of their employment however being to serve as centering. In Roman vaulting similar ribs were employed, but the spaces between were subsequently filled in flush with concrete. In Renaissance and in modern work (such as in cellar or dock-vaults, for instance), when built in brick, stone voussoirs are used for the groins, because the brickwork used there would be liable to be crushed or fall out; here also the stone is flush with the brickwork, but the Mediæval architects recognised the value of the rib, not only as a permanent centre, but as suggesting the appearance as well as the reality of strength.

The roof of the nave was composed of precisely the same parts, only that, being twice as wide as each compartment was broad, the length of the transverse ribs and of the intersecting ogives was greater in proportion to the formerets than in the aisles. Another addition, and certainly an improvement, was the introduction of ridge-ribs (D D), marking the point of the vault. These could not of course be used with circular arches, where there was no centre line for them to mark; and it probably was from this cause that the French seldom adopted them, having been accustomed to vaults not requiring them. Another reason was that all their earlier vaults were more or less domical, or in other words the point C was higher than the points A or B, though this is more apparent in hexapartite vaults, or where one compartment of the nave-vaults takes in two of the aisles, than in quadripartite, like those now under consideration. Still all French vaults have this peculiarity more or less, and consequently the longitudinal ridge-rib, where used, has an up and down broken appearance, which is extremely disagreeable, and must in a great measure have prevented its adoption. There is, however, at least one exception to this rule in France, in the abbey church of Souvigny, represented in the Woodcut No. 661, where this rib is used with so pleasing an effect that one is surprised it was not in more general favour.

These are the only features usually employed by French architects: but we do sometimes find tiercerons, or secondary ogives, used to strengthen as well as to ornament the plain faces of the vaults, one or two on each face, as at E E (in Woodcut No. 660); small ribs or liernes, F F, from lier, to bind, were also occasionally used to connect all these at the centre, where they formed star patterns, and other complicated but beautiful ornaments of the vault. These last, however, are rare and exceptional in French vaulting, though they were treated by the English architects with such success that we wonder they were not more generally adopted in France. The most probable explanation appears to be that the French architects depended more on colour than on relief for the effect of their vaults, while in England colour was sparingly used, its place being supplied by constructive carving. Whatever may have been the comparative merits of the two methods when first used, the English vaults have a great advantage now, inasmuch as the carving remains, while the paintings of the others have perished, and we have no means left of judging of their original effect.

One of the most beautiful features of French vaulting, almost entirely unknown in this country, is the great polygonal vault of the semi-dome of the chevet, which as an architectural object few will be disinclined to admit is, with its walls of painted glass and its light constructive roof, a far more beautiful thing than the plain semi-dome of the basilican apse, notwithstanding its mosaics. Still, as the French used it, they never quite surmounted the difficulties of its construction; and in their excessive desire to do away with all solid wall, and to get the greatest possible surface for painted glass, they often distorted these vaults in a very unpleasing manner.

The chevet of Pontigny (Woodcut No. 643) presents a good example of the early form of vault, which owing to the small size of the windows and general sobriety of the composition, avoids the defects above alluded to. Of the later examples there are few, except that of Souvigny, represented in Woodcut No. 661, where the difficulty has been entirely conquered by constructing the spandrils with pierced tracery, so that the vault virtually springs from nearly the same height as the arch of the windows, and a very slight improvement would have made this not only constructively, but artistically perfect. This is a solitary specimen, and one which, though among the most beautiful suggestions of Gothic art, has found no admirers, or at least no imitators.

Notwithstanding this difficulty of construction, these pierced semi-domes are not only the best specimens of French vaulting, but are among the most beautiful inventions of the Middle Ages, and form a finer termination to the cathedral vista than either the great windows of the English, or the wonderful rose windows of the French cathedrals.

BUTTRESSES.

The employment of buttresses was a constructive expedient that followed almost indispensably on the use of vaults for the roofing of churches. It was necessary either to employ enormously thick walls to resist the thrust, or to support them by some more scientific arrangement of the materials. The theory of the buttress will be easily understood from the diagram (Woodcut No. 662), representing seven blocks or masses of masonry, disposed first so as to form a continuous wall, but which evidently affords very little resistance to a thrust or push tending to overturn it from within. The left-hand arrangement is, from the additional breadth of base in the direction of the thrust, much less liable to fall outwards, provided the distance of the blocks from one another is not too great, and the mass of the vault does not press heavily on the intermediate space. This last difficulty was so much felt by the earlier French architects that, as we have seen, in the South of France especially, they used the roof of the side-aisle as a continuous buttress to resist the thrust of their tunnel-vaults. It was surmounted also by the introduction of intersecting vaults, inasmuch as by this expedient all the thrusts were collected together at a point over each pier, and a resisting mass applied on that one point was sufficient to give all the stability required. This, and the desire of raising the lights as high as possible into the roof, were the principal causes that brought this form of vaulting into general use; still it has not yet been shown that the continuous vault is not artistically the more beautiful of the two forms, if not constructively so also.

There was yet another difficulty to be mastered, which was that the principal vault to be abutted was that over the nave or central part of the church, and buttresses of the requisite depth would have filled up the side-aisles entirely. The difficulty first presented itself in the building of the basilica of Maxentius (Woodcut No. 203), and was there got over in something like the manner practically adopted in the Middle Ages, except that the arch was there carried inside, whereas the Gothic architects threw the abutting arch across on the outside and above the roof.

Several of the previous woodcuts[46] show the system of flying buttresses in various stages of advancement. The view of one of those of the choir of St. Ouen (No. 663) exhibits the system in its greatest degree of development. Here there are two vertical and two flying buttresses, forming a system of great lightness, but at the same time of immense constructive strength, and when used sparingly and with elegance, as in this instance, constituting an object of great beauty. The abuse of this expedient, as in the cathedral at Cologne and elsewhere, went very far to mar the proper effect.

The cathedral at Chartres presents a singular but very beautiful instance of an earlier form of flying buttress: there the immense span of the central vault put the architects on their mettle to provide a sufficient abutment, and they did it by building what was literally an open wall across the aisle (see Woodcut No. 628), strongly arched, and the arches connected by short strong pillars radiating with the voussoirs of the arch. Nothing could well be stronger and more scientific than this, but the absence of perpendicularity in the pillars was unpleasing to the eye then as now, and the contrivance was never repeated.

A far more pleasing form was that adopted afterwards at Amiens (Woodcut No. 664) and elsewhere, where a series of small traceried arches stand on the lower flying buttress, and support the upper, which is straight-lined. Even here, however, the difficulty is not quite got over; the unequal height of these connecting arches, and the awkward angle which the lower supports make with the curvilinear form on which they rest, deprive them of that constructive propriety which alone secures a perfectly satisfactory result in architecture. The problem indeed is one which the French never thoroughly solved, though they bestowed immense pains upon it. Brilliant as the effect sometimes is of the immense mass of pinnacles and flying buttresses, they are seldom so put together as to leave an entirely satisfactory result on the mind of the spectator. Taken all in all, perhaps the most pleasing example is that of Rheims (Woodcut No. 629)—those on each side of the nave especially—where two bold simple arches transmit the pressure from a bold exquisitely pinnacled buttress to the sides of the clerestory, and in such a manner as to leave no doubt whatever either as to their purpose or their sufficiency to accomplish their object.

Notwithstanding the beauty which the French attained in their flying buttresses, it is still a question whether they did not carry this feature too far. It must be confessed that there is a tendency in the abuse of the system to confuse the outlines and to injure the true architectural effect of the exterior. Internally it no doubt enabled them to lighten their piers and increase the size of their windows to an unlimited extent, and to judge fairly we must balance between the gain to the interior, and the external disadvantages. This we shall be better able to do when considering the next constructive expedient, which was that of the introduction of pinnacles.

PINNACLES.

The use of pinnacles, considered independently of their ornamental purposes, is evident enough. It is obvious that a wall or pillar which has to resist the thrust of a vault or any other power exerted laterally, depends for its stability on its thickness, its solidity, and generally on its lateral strength. A material consideration, as affecting this solidity, is that of weight. The most frequent use of pinnacles by the French was to surmount the piers from which the flying buttresses sprang. To these piers weight and solidity were thus imparted, rendering them a sufficiently steady abutment to the flying arches, which in their turn abutted the central vaults.

It must be understood that these expedients of buttresses and pinnacles were only employed to support the central roof of the nave. The vaults of the aisles were so narrow as not to require any elaborate system of abutments for their support—the ordinary thickness of the walls would have sufficed for that purpose; but they also had the advantage of the use of the supports designed for the larger vaults.

As a general rule the English architects never hesitated to weight their walls so as to apply the resistance directly on the point required, and not only adorned the roofs of their churches with pinnacles, but raised towers and lanterns on the intersections on all occasions. The French, on the other hand, always preferred placing these objects, not on their churches, but rather grouped around them, and springing from the ground. This, it is true, enabled them to indulge in height and lightness internally to an extent unknown in England. This extravagance proved prejudicial to the true effect even of the interior, while externally the system was very destructive of grace and harmony. A French cathedral is generally solid and simple, as high as the parapet of the side-aisles, but above this base the forest of pinnacles and buttresses that spring from it entirely obscure the clerestory, and confuse its lines. Above this again the great mass and simple form of the high steep roof, unbroken by pinnacles or other ornaments, contrasts unpleasingly with the lightness and confused lines immediately below it. This inconsistency tends to mar the beauty of French cathedrals, and even of their churches, though in the smaller buildings the effect is less glaring owing to the smallness of the parts.

SPIRES.

An easy transition leads from pinnacles to spires, the latter being but the perfect development of the former, and each requiring the assistance of the other in producing a thoroughly harmonious effect. Still their uses were widely different, for the spire never was a constructive expedient, or useful in any way. Indeed, of all architectural features, it is the one perhaps to which it is least easy to apply any utilitarian rule.

Towers were originally introduced in Christian edifices partly as bell-towers, partly as symbols of power, and sometimes perhaps as fortifications, to which may be added the general purpose of ornamenting the edifices to which they were attached, and giving to them that dignity which elevation always conveys.

From the tower the spire arose first as a wooden roof, and as height was one of the great objects to be attained in building the tower, it was natural to eke this out by giving the roof an exaggerated elevation beyond what was actually required as a mere protection from the weather. When once the idea was conceived of rendering it an ornamental feature, the architects were not long in carrying it out. The first and most obvious step was that of cutting off the angles, making it an octagon, and carrying up the angles of the tower by pinnacles, with a view to softening the transition between the perpendicular and sloping part, and reducing it again to harmony.

One of the earliest examples in which this transition is successfully accomplished is in the old spire at Chartres (Woodcut No. 627); the change from the square to the octagon, and from the tower to the pyramid, being managed with great felicity. The western spires of St. Stephen’s abbey at Caen (Woodcut No. 613), though added in the age of pointed Gothic to towers of an earlier age, are also pleasing specimens. But perhaps one of the very best in France, for its size and age, is that of St. Pierre at Caen (Woodcut No. 665), uniting in itself all the properties of a good design without either poverty or extravagance. The little lantern of Ste. Marie de l’Épine (Woodcut No. 644), though small, is as graceful an object as can well be designed; and the new spire at Chartres (Woodcut No. 627), as before remarked, is, except as regards the defects inherent in its age, one of the most beautiful in Europe.

This feature is nevertheless, it must be confessed, rarer in France than might be expected. This is perhaps owing to many spires having been of wood, to their having been allowed to decay, and to their removal; while in other instances it is certain that the design of erecting them has been abandoned in consequence of the tower, when finished, having been found insufficient to bear their weight.

The ruined church of St. John at Soissons has two, which are still of great beauty. At Bayeux are two others, not very beautiful in themselves, but which group pleasingly with a central lantern of the Renaissance age.[47] And at Coutances there are two others of the best age (Woodcut No. 634), which combined with a central octagonal lantern make one of the most beautiful groups of towers in France. Here the pitch of the roof is very low, and altogether the external design of the building is much more in accordance with the canons of art prevalent on this side of the Channel than with those which found favour in France.

Of the earlier French lanterns, this at Coutances is perhaps the best specimen to be found: of the latter class there is none finer than that of St. Ouen (Woodcut No. 666); and had the western towers been completed in the same character, in accordance with the original design, the towers of this church would probably be unrivalled. Even alone the lantern is a very noble architectural feature, and appropriate to its position, though some of the details mark the lateness of the age in which it was erected.

Notwithstanding the beauty of these examples, it must be confessed that the French architects were not so happy in their designs of spires and lanterns as they were in many other features.

It would be in vain to attempt to enumerate all the smaller decorative features that crowd every part of the Gothic churches of France, many of which indeed belong more to the department of the sculptor than to that of the architect, though the two are so intimately interwoven that it is impossible to draw the line between them. It is, however, to the extreme care bestowed on these details and their extraordinary elaboration that the Gothic churches of the best age owe at least half their effect. There are many churches in Italy of the Gothic and Renaissance ages, larger and grander in their proportions than some of the best French examples, but they fail to produce a similar effect because these details are all—if the expression may be used—machine-made. The same forms and ornaments are repeated throughout, and too frequently borrowed from some other place without any evidence of thought or fitness in their application, and consequently call up no responsive feeling in the mind of the spectator. On this side of the Alps, in the best age, every moulding, every detail, exhibits an amount of thought combined with novelty, and is always so appropriate to the place or use to which it is applied, that it never fails to produce the most pleasing effect, and to heighten to a great extent the beauty of the building in which it is found. The corbel for instance represented in Woodcut No. 667 is as much a niche for the statue as a bracket to support the ends of the ribs of the vaults, and is one of the thousand instances which are met with everywhere in Gothic art of that happy mixture of the arts of the mason, the carver, and the sculptor, which, when successfully combined, produce a true artistic effect. These combinations are so numerous and so varied that it would be hopeless to attempt to classify them, or even to attempt to illustrate the varieties found in any single cathedral.[48]

The same may be said of the capitals of the pillars, which in all the best buildings vary with every shaft, and appear to have been executed after the architect had finished his labours, by artists of a very high class. In the best age, in France at least, as in the examples from Rheims, shown in Woodcut No. 668, they would appear to have retained a reminiscence of a Roman Corinthian order, but to have used it with a freedom entirely their own.

CONSTRUCTION.

It has been shown that the exigencies of a Gothic cathedral were a stone roof, a glass wall, and as great an amount of space on the floor, as little encumbered with pillars and points of support, as could be obtained. The two first of these points have been sufficiently insisted upon in the preceding pages; the last, however, demands a few more remarks, as the success achieved by the masons in the Middle Ages in this respect was one of their chief merits, though it was but a mechanical merit after all, and one in which they hardly surpassed their masters the Romans. The basilica of Maxentius, for instance, covers a space of 68,000 sq. ft., or about the average size of a French cathedral, and the points of support, or in other words the piers and walls, occupy only 6900 sq. ft., or between a 9th and a 10th part of the whole area. If we turn to the great cathedral of St. Peter’s at Rome, we find the points of support occupying more than one-fourth of the whole area, though built on the model, and almost a copy, of the Roman basilica. At St. Mary’s at Florence they occupy one-fifth; and in St. Paul’s, London, and the Pantheon at Paris, the walls and pillars occupy in the first rather more, in the other rather less, than one-sixth. If from these we turn to some of the Mediæval examples, we find for instance at

The whole area. Solid. Ratio.

Bourges 61,591 11,908 0·181, or between 1-5th and 1-6th.

Chartres 68,261 8,888 0·130, or 1-8th.

Paris 64,108 7,852 0·122, or between 1-8th and 1-9th.

St. Ouen 47,107 4,637 0·090, or between 1-10th and 1-11th.

The figures, however, at Bourges include a heavy and extended porch not belonging to the original design, which if omitted would reduce the fractional proportion considerably; and if the unbuilt towers of St. Ouen were excluded, the proportion of the points of support to the area would be less than one-twelfth.

Our best English examples show a proportion of rather less than one-tenth, and though they have not the great height and wide-spreading vaults of the French cathedrals, their spires and pinnacles externally perhaps more than counterbalance this. Taken altogether it may generally be stated that one-tenth is about the proportion in the best Gothic churches of the best age. When we find it exceed this, it is obvious that the lightness of the walls and pillars has been carried to excess, and even in St. Ouen, if there is an error, it is on this side. There can be no question that to produce a satisfactory effect a church requires solidity, and apparent as well as real strength; for, without affecting the extreme massiveness of Egyptian art, with its wonderful expression of power and durability, there is an opposite extreme far more prejudicial to true architectural effect in parading, as it were, mechanical contrivances of construction, so as to gain the utmost utilitarian effect with the least possible expenditure of means. This the Egyptians utterly despised and rejected, and heaped mass on mass, even at the expense of any convenience or use for which the building might have been designed. The French architects, on the other hand, made it their study to dispense with every ton of stone they could possibly lay aside. This system they undoubtedly carried too far, for without looking at such extreme examples as the choir of Beauvais or St. Ouen, everywhere in France we find a degree of airy lightness and tenuity of parts destructive of many of the most important conditions of architectural excellence.

FURNITURE OF CHURCHES.

Little less thought and expense were probably bestowed upon what we may call the furnishing of Gothic churches than upon the fabrics themselves. Though the objects included in this denomination were altogether of a lower class of art, they were still essential parts of the whole design, and we cannot fairly judge of the buildings themselves without at least endeavouring to supply their minor arrangements.

It is not easy to do this in France, nor indeed in any part of Europe, as no one church or chapel displays at the present day all the wealth and ornament which once belonged to it.

There is scarcely a single church in France with its original altar, the most sacred and therefore generally the most richly adorned part of the whole. These have either been plundered by the Huguenots, rebuilt in the execrable taste of the age of Louis XIV., or destroyed during the Revolution.

The cathedrals of Amiens and Rouen are among the few which retain their original stalls; and the enclosure of the choir at Chartres is one of the most elaborate pieces of ornamental sculpture to be found. That at Alby has been before alluded to, and fragments of this feature still exist in many cathedrals.

The Rood-screens, or Jubés, which almost all French churches once possessed, are rarer than even the other parts of these enclosures. A good example of them is found in the church of the Madeleine at Troyes (Woodcut No. 669), which gives a favourable idea of the richness of decoration that was sometimes lavished on these parts. Though late in age, and aiming at the false mode of construction which was prevalent at the time of its execution, it displays so much elegance as to disarm criticism. It makes us too regret the loss of the rood-screens of St. Ouen’s (of which we can alone judge from drawings) and of the larger cathedrals; though of these we are able to form some idea by following out the design of the lateral screens, of which they formed a part.

If to these we add the altars of the minor chapels, with the screens that divided them from the nave, the tombs of wealthy prelates and nobles, the organ galleries, with their spiral stairs and richly-carved instrument cases, and all the numberless treasures of art accumulated by wealth and piety, we may form some idea of what a Mediæval cathedral really was, though scarcely one now exists in any part of Europe in an entire state.

DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE.

It is probable that specimens remain sufficient to elucidate in an archæological point of view the progress of domestic architecture in France, and thereby to illustrate the early manners and customs of the people; but these remains are much less magnificent and are less perfectly preserved than the churches and cathedrals, and have consequently received comparatively little attention.

Had any of the royal palaces been preserved to our day, or even any of the greater municipal buildings, the case might have been different. The former have, however, perished, without an exception; and as regards the latter, France seems always to have presented a remarkable contrast to the neighbouring country of Flanders.

No town in France proper seems to have possessed in the Middle Ages prior to the end of the 15th century either a municipality or a town-hall of any note. When necessary to discuss communal business it was the custom to meet in the open air, or occasionally in the churches or cloisters. There is one notable exception to this in the town-hall of St. Antonin, in the department of Tarn and Garonne, which is a remarkable edifice of the 12th century, and though partially restored retains still the principal features of its early design (Woodcut 670). The ground storey, used as a market, consists of a series of pointed arches, the one on the left being a passage-way through. On the first floor is a fine room, lighted by three windows, each subdivided by three shafts. The two piers separating the windows (and which on the inner wall support segmental arches carrying the wall above) are decorated with sculpture representing Adam and Eve and Moses. The second storey, which rises into the roof, is lighted by three double windows. Of later examples at the end of the 15th and commencement of the 16th centuries there exist still the town-hall of Compiègne, a beautiful example, with central tower; and at Saumur, St. Quentin, Orleans, Bruges, and Beaugency a series of small but interesting buildings, some flamboyant and others showing early Renaissance influence.

In a work like the present, which is barely sufficient in extent to admit of all the great typical examples of architectural art being enumerated, much less described, it is evident that to domestic art a very subordinate position must be assigned. Perhaps it ought to be omitted altogether. There are, however, so many beauties in even the most insignificant productions of the great ages, that it may be expedient at least to direct attention to the subject, and the three examples here given may serve to illustrate the forms of the art at the three great epochs of the French Gothic style.

The first (Woodcut No. 671) is from a house at Cluny, and exhibits the round-arched arcade with its alternate single and coupled columns, which arrangement was usual at that period, and of which examples are found all over the South of France and as far north at least as Auxerre.

The second (Woodcut No. 672) represents a house at Yrieix, and shows the pointed Gothic style in its period of greatest development; and although the openings are of larger extent than would be convenient in this climate, they are not more so than would be suitable, while they give, in the South of France, great lightness and elegance to the façade. The third example is from the portal of the Ducal Palace at Nancy (Woodcut No. 673), and is an instance of the form the style took when on the verge of the Renaissance. It is not without elegance, though somewhat strange and unmeaning, and, except as regards the balconies, the parts generally seem designed solely for ornament without any constructive or utilitarian motive.

One of the most extensive as well as one of the best specimens of French domestic architecture is the house of Jacques Cœur, at Bourges, now used as the town-hall. It was built by the wealthy but ill-used banker of Charles VII., and every part of it shows evidence of careful design and elaborate execution; it was erected too at an age before the style had become entirely debased, and as a private residence situated in a town, and therefore without any attempt at fortification, is the best that France now possesses.

The château of Meilhan (Cher) is nearly a repetition of the same design, but at least a hundred years more modern.

Rouen possesses several examples of domestic architecture of a late date; so does Paris—and among others, the celebrated Hôtel de Cluny. Few of the great towns are however without fragments of some sort, but hardly any are of sufficient importance to deserve separate notice or illustration.

France is not so rich as either Germany or England in specimens of castellated architecture. This does not apparently arise from the fact of no castles having been built during the Middle Ages, but rather from their having been pulled down to make way for more convenient dwellings after the accession of Francis I., and even before his time, when they had ceased to be of any use. Still the châteaux of Pierrefonds and Coucy are in their own class as fine as anything to be found elsewhere. The circular keep of the latter castle is perhaps unique, both from its form and dimensions; but being entirely gutted inside its architectural features are gone, and it is now difficult to understand how it was originally arranged, and by what means it was lighted and rendered habitable.[49]

Tancarville still retains some of the original features of its fortifications, as do also the castles of Falaise and Gaillard.

The keeps of Vincennes and Loches are still remarkable for their height, though they hardly retain any features which can be called strictly architectural. In the South, the fortified towns of Carcassonne and Aigues Mortes, and in the North, Fougères, retain as much of their walls and defences as almost any place in Europe. The former in particular, both from its situation and the extent of its remains, gives a singularly favourable and impressive idea of the grave majesty of an ancient fortalice. But for alterations and desecrations of all sorts, the palace of the popes at Avignon would be one of the most remarkable castles in Europe: even now its extent and the massiveness of its walls and towers are most imposing.

These are all either ruins or fragments; but the castle of Mont St. Michel, in Normandy, retains nearly all the features of a Mediæval fortress in sufficient perfection to admit of its being restored, in imagination at least. The outer walls still remain, encircling the village, which nestles under the protection of the castle. The church crowns the whole, and around it are grouped the halls of the knights, the kitchens and offices, and all the appurtenances of the establishment, intermingled with fortifications and defensive precautions that must have made the place nearly impregnable against such engines of war as existed when it was erected, even irrespective of its sea-girt position.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

I. CONTENTS

Historical Notice—Old Churches—Cathedral of Tournay—Antwerp—St. Jacques at Liège.

THE little kingdom of Belgium forms an architectural province as distinct and in many respects as interesting as any in Europe. Its style does not, it is true, possess that simplicity combined with grandeur which characterises the one great united effort of Central France, but it is more varied and picturesque, and as fully expressive of the affinities and aspirations of the people.

As we may learn from their language, the dominant race during the Middle Ages spoke a dialect very closely allied to the pure German, which proclaimed their affinity to their neighbours on the Rhine; but what their architecture tells us, though their language does not, is that there was a very strong infusion of Celtic blood in their veins which expresses itself in almost every building they erected.

Shortly after the departure of the Romans the German immigrants seem to have completely overpowered the original Belgæ, and, like true Aryans, to have divided themselves into a number of separate and independent municipalities, with no established capital and acknowledging no central authority. At times these communities did submit themselves to the rule of Dukes and Counts, but only to a very limited extent; and for particular purposes they occasionally even sought the protection of some powerful monarch; but they never relinquished their right of self-government nor fell under the power of feudal chiefs, or of a dominant hierarchy, to the same extent as prevailed throughout nearly the whole of the rest of Europe. This spirit of independence was sustained throughout the Middle Ages by the immense extension of commercial industry which the fortunate position of Belgium, combined with the energy of her inhabitants, enabled her to develope. While the rest of Europe was engaged in feudal wars and profitless crusades, the peaceful burghers of the Belgian cities were quietly amassing that wealth which gave them individually such importance as free citizens of independent communities, and raised their towns, and eventually their country, to the state of prosperity it maintained till the destruction of their liberties by the Spaniards in the 16th century.

These historical circumstances go far to explain the peculiar character observable in the architectural remains of this country, in which we find no trace of any combined national effort. Even the epoch of Charlemagne passed over this province without leaving any impress on the face of the country, nor are there any buildings that can be said to have been called into existence by his influence and power. The great churches of Belgium seem, on the contrary, to have been raised by the individual exertions of the separate cities in which they are found, on a scale commensurate with their several requirements. The same spontaneous impulse gave rise to the town-halls and domestic edifices, which present so peculiar and fascinating an aspect of picturesque irregularity.

Even the devastation by the Normans in the 9th and 10th centuries seems to have passed more lightly over this country than any other in the North of Europe. They burned and destroyed indeed many of the more flourishing cities, but they did not occupy them, and when they were gone the inhabitants returned, rebuilt their habitations, and resumed their habits of patient self-supporting labour; and when these inroads ceased there was nothing to stop the onward career of the most industrious and commercial community then established in Europe.

In a historical point of view the series of buildings is in some respects even more complete than the wonderful group we have just passed in review in France. In size, the cathedrals of Belgium are at least equal to those that have just been described. In general interest, no cathedral of France exceeds that of Tournay, none in gorgeousness that of Antwerp; and few surpass even those of Louvain, Mechlin, Mons, Bruges and Ghent. Notwithstanding their magnificence, however, it must be confessed that the Belgian cathedrals fail in all the higher requisites of architectural design when compared with those on the southern border. This was owing partly to the art never having been in the hands of a thoroughly organised and educated body of clergy like that of France, but more to the ethnographic difference of race, which in the first place prevented centralisation, and also rendered them less keen in their appreciation of art, and less influenced by its merits. From these and other causes, their ecclesiastical buildings do not display that elegance of proportion, and that beauty of well-considered and appropriate detail, which everywhere please and satisfy the mind in contemplating the cathedrals of France.

These remarks apply solely to ecclesiastical art. In specimens of the civil and domestic architecture of the Middle Ages, Belgium surpasses all the other countries of Europe, on this side of the Alps, put together. Her town-halls and markets, and the residences of her burghers, still display a degree of taste and elegance unsurpassed by anything of the age, and remain to this day the best index of the wealth and independence of the communities to which they belonged.

All this is of course only what might be expected from what we know of the ethnographic relations of the people. An Aryan race, loving independence, cultivating self-government, and steadily following those courses which lead to material well-being and wealth; and underlying these a Celtic race, turbulent at times, loving art, appreciating its beauties, and clothing the municipal requirements with the picturesque graces of architectural design.

The difference between this country and Central France appears to be that in the latter country the Celtic element was in excess of the Aryan, while in Belgium this condition was reversed, and this at least is precisely what we find expressed in her art.

Of the oldest churches of Belgium, a large proportion are known to us only by tradition, they having been pulled down to make way for the larger and more splendid buildings which were demanded by the continually increasing wealth and population of the cities. Of those which remain, one of the oldest and most interesting is that of St. Vincent at Soignies, built in 965 by Bruno, Archbishop of Cologne, and though probably not quite finished within that century, it still retains the features of the 10th century more completely than almost any church in Europe. This church, that of St. Michele at Pavia, and the Minster at Zurich, constitute a trio very similar to one another in design and in size, and differing principally in the degree of finish they display, this being by far the rudest in construction of the three. It possessed originally a western tower and a central lantern, the upper parts of both which are modernised. The east end was square, though possessing a shrine, the tomb of the saint whose name it bears. It may have been altered, and is built up on the outside so as to render examination impossible.

Another church, only slightly more modern, that of St. Gertrude at Nivelles (Woodcut No. 674), presents the same peculiarity, of having a square termination towards the east, though it seems originally to have had an apse at the west end, where the façade was carried up to a considerable height, and adorned in the centre by a square tower flanked by a circular one on each side. The latter retain their original form, though the central tower was rebuilt in the 15th century. This church was built in the earliest years of the 11th century, and was dedicated in 1045, the Emperor Henry IV. assisting at the ceremony. It is a first-class church with two transepts, and remains externally in all essential particulars as then built. The interior was entirely destroyed in the middle of the last century, which is a very great loss, although the new arrangement which has replaced it is in itself remarkably well designed.

Passing over some minor examples, we come to the cathedral of Tournay, to the architect and artist the most interesting of the province. It is a first-class cathedral, more than 400 ft. in length internally, and covering with its dependencies an area of 62,525 sq. ft. It consists of a nave, dedicated in 1066; of a transept, built about the year 1146; the choir, which formed part of this arrangement, was dedicated in 1213, but gave place about a century afterwards to that now standing, which was dedicated in 1338, so that within itself it contains a complete history of the style; and though there is no doubt considerable incongruity in the three specimens here brought together, as they are the best of their respective classes in Belgium, the effect is not unpleasing, and their arrangement fortunate, inasmuch as, entering by the western door, you pass first through the massive architecture of the 11th to the bolder and more expanded features of the 12th century, a fitting vestibule to the exaggerated forms which prevailed during the 14th. In the woodcut (No. 676) the three styles are represented as they stand; but it would require far more elaborate illustration to do justice to the beauty of the deeply galleried nave, which surpasses any specimen of Norman architecture, but which is here eclipsed by the two remaining apses of the transept. These, notwithstanding a certain rudeness of detail, are certainly the finest productions of their age, and are as magnificent pieces of architecture as can be conceived. The choir is the least satisfactory part of the whole; for though displaying a certain beauty of proportion, and the most undoubted daring of construction, its effect is frail and weak in the extreme. Still, if the tracery were restored to the windows, and these filled with painted glass, great part of this defect might be removed. At the best, the chief merit of this choir is its clever and daring construction, but even in this the builder miscalculated his own strength, for it was found necessary to double the thickness of all the piers after they were first erected. This addition would have been an improvement if it had been part of the original design, but as it now is it appears only to betray the weakness which it was meant to conceal.

It is by no means clear that originally there were any entrances at the west front; at least there certainly was no central doorway; and probably the principal entrances were, as in most German churches, under lateral porches.

Externally, the west front had neither the flanking towers of the Norman church, nor the frontispiece usual in Germany, but terminated in a gable the height of the wooden roof of the nave. The original church was triapsal, and a large square tower adorned the intersection of the nave and transept, which was originally surrounded by six tall square towers, two belonging to each of the apses. Four of these still exist, and with the remaining part of the central tower form as noble a group as is to be found in any church of this province. In its triapsal state, its superior dimensions and the greater height of its towers must have rendered it a more striking building than even the Apostles’ Church at Cologne, or indeed any other church of its age.

Besides the churches already described, there are a considerable number in Belgium belonging to the 11th century, such as St. Bartholomew at Liège; St. Servin’s, Maestricht; the church at Ruremonde (almost an exact counterpart of the Apostles’ Church at Cologne), and others of more or less importance scattered over the country. They almost all possess the peculiarity of having no entrance in their west fronts, but have instead a massive screen or frontispiece surmounted by two or three towers. This was the arrangement of the old church of St. Jacques at Liège. The church of Notre Dame de Maestricht presents a somewhat exaggerated example of this description of front (Woodcut No. 677). It is difficult to explain the origin of this feature, nor have we any reason to regret its abandonment. There can be no doubt that the proper place for the principal entrance to a church is the end opposite the altar, where this screen prevented its being placed.

Among the smaller antiquities of this age, none are perhaps more interesting than the little chapel of St. Sang, at Bruges, built by Thierry of Alsace, on his return from the Holy Land, A.D. 1150; it is a small double chapel, of a form very common in Germany, but less ornate than these generally were. At one angle of it are two spires, represented in Woodcut No. 678; the more slender of these would not excite remark if found in Cairo or Aleppo, so exactly does it take the Eastern form; the other, on the contrary, seems to belong to the 16th or 17th century: it is only one, however, of the numerous instances that go to prove how completely art returned, at the period called the Renaissance, to the point from which it started some four or five centuries earlier. It returned with something more of purity of detail and better construction, but unfortunately without that propriety of design and grandeur of conception which mark even the rude buildings of the first naissance of Gothic art.

Belgium is rich in small specimens of transitional architecture, and few of her more extensive ecclesiastical establishments are without some features of this class, often of great beauty. Their age has not yet, however, been determined with anything like precision by the Belgian antiquaries; but on the whole, it seems that in this, as in most other respects, this country followed the German much more closely than the French type, hesitating long before it adopted the pointed arch, and clinging to circular forms long after it had been employed elsewhere, oscillating between the two in a manner very puzzling, and rendering more care necessary in determining dates than in most other parts of Europe. Besides this, none of the Belgian buildings have yet been edited in such a manner as to afford materials for the establishment of any certain rule. Perhaps the most interesting specimen of the transitional period, and certainly one of the most beautiful ruins in the country, is the abbey church of Villers, near Genappe, a building 338 ft. in length by 67 in width, built with all the purity of what we would call the Early English style, but with a degree of experimental imperfection in the tracery of which I hardly know an example elsewhere. The representation given above (Woodcut No. 679) of one of the windows of the transept will explain this; throughout it the tracery consists of holes cut into slabs; yet this church is said to have been commenced in 1240, and only finished in 1276. In Germany such a date would be probable; in France a similar specimen would be assigned to a period from 70 to 100 years earlier.

Among the many efforts made in Belgium to get rid of the awkwardness of the pointed form for windows was that in the choir of Notre Dame de la Chapelle, at Brussels (begun 1216), where the circular tracery is inserted in a circular-headed window, producing a much more pleasing effect, both internally and externally, than the pointed form, except with reference to the vault, with which it is so little in accordance that the experiment seems to have been abandoned, and no attempt made afterwards to renew it.

Besides those already mentioned, Belgium possesses about twenty first-class churches of pointed architecture, all deserving attentive consideration, some of them being almost unrivalled edifices of their class. Among the earliest of these is the cathedral of Liège, begun in 1280, exhibiting the style in great purity. It has no western entrance, but, like St. Croix, St. Jacques, and all the principal churches of this city, is entered by side porches.

A little later we have the eastern parts of St. Gudule, Brussels (A.D. 1220-1273), and two other very beautiful churches: Notre Dame de Tongres (1240), and St. Martin, Ypres (1232-70). The latter is perhaps the purest and best specimen of the Gothic of the 13th century in Flanders; and of about the same age is the beautiful church of N. D. de Dinant. These are almost the only important specimens of the contemporary art of the 13th century which still excite our admiration in all the principal cities of France. Almost all the great cathedrals in that country belong to this age, which was also so prolific of great buildings in England. But Belgium does not seem to have shared to any great extent in the impulse then given to church architecture. Her buildings are spread pretty evenly over the whole period from the 10th to the 16th century, as the steadily growing wealth of the country demanded them, and but little influenced by the great political oscillations of her neighbours. In the next century we have N. D. de Huy (1311), the beautiful parish church at Aerschot (1337), and N. D. de Hal (1341)—small but elegant places of worship. The two crowning examples, however, of this age are N. D. of Antwerp (1352-1411), and St. Rombaut, Malines. The choir of this latter church was dedicated in the year 1366, having been commenced about the same time as that at Antwerp, but the nave was not erected till a century afterwards (1456-1464), and the tower was not carried even to its present height till the 16th century.

Antwerp cathedral is one of the most remarkable churches in Europe, being 390 ft. long by 170 in width inside the nave, and covering rather more than 70,000 sq. ft. As will be seen by the plan (Woodcut No. 680), it is divided into seven aisles, which gives a vast intricacy and picturesqueness to the perspective; but there is a want of harmony among the parts, and of subordination and proportion, sadly destructive of true architectural effect; so that, notwithstanding its size, it looks much smaller internally than many of the French cathedrals of far smaller dimensions. If the length of the nave had been divided into ten bays instead of only six, and the central aisle had been at least 10 ft. wider, which space could easily have been spared from the outer one, the apparent size of the church would have been greatly increased; but besides this, it wants height, and its details show a decadence which nothing can redeem.

Its magnificent portal, with its one finished tower 406 ft. in height, was commenced in 1422, but only finished in 1518, and is more in accordance with the taste of the 16th century than of the original design. Although from the lateness of its date it is impossible to be satisfied either with the outline or the detail, it is still so gorgeous a specimen of art, and towers so nobly over the buildings of the city, as to extort our admiration, and a man must have very little feeling for the poetry of art who can stop to criticise it too closely.

The spire at Chartres (Woodcut No. 627) is more elegant in outline, but the design of its base does not accord with that of the upper part, and its effect is injured by the great height of the building to which it is attached. That at Strasburg is very inferior in outline, so is St. Stephen’s at Vienna, and it is not quite clear that the open-work spires of Freiburg and Cologne are not mistakes. The base of the Antwerp spire is perfect in proportion and good in detail; the caprice begins only when near the top, where it constructively can do no harm, and is much less offensive than it would be lower down. It cannot perfect, but taking it altogether it is perhaps the most beautiful thing of its kind in Europe.

It is a great question if the second spire, were it completed as originally designed, would add to, or detract from, the beauty of the composition. An unfinished design is always unpleasing, but, on the whole, twin spires, without a very prominent central object, do not seem a pleasing form of design.

The church of St. Rombaut at Malines, though very much smaller than that at Antwerp, being only 300 ft. in length internally, and, including the tower, only 385 ft. over all externally, is still a far more satisfactory church in every respect. Indeed, it is one of the finest of those which have round pillars in the nave instead of the clustered columns which give such beauty and such meaning to most of the churches of this age. It was originally designed to have one western spire, which, if completed, would have risen to the height of nearly 550 English feet. It was never carried higher than to the commencement of the spire, 320 ft., and at that height it now remains. Even as it is, it is one of the noblest erections of the Middle Ages, the immense depth of its buttresses and the boldness of its outline giving it a character seldom surpassed.

St. Pierre’s, of Louvain, is a worthy rival of these two; for though perhaps a century more modern, or nearly so, it seems to have been built at once on a uniform and well-digested plan, which gives to the whole building a congruity which goes far to redeem the defects in its details. The façade, which would have rendered it the noblest building of the three, has never been completed. It was designed on the true German principle of a great western screen, surmounted by three spires, the central one 535 ft. in height, the other two 430 ft. each.[50]

Where sufficient width can be obtained, this seems a legitimate and pleasing form of composition. Twin towers like those at Cologne or like those designed for Strasburg and Antwerp, would overpower any church, and are wanting in variety. Two small towers, with one taller between, is a more pleasing composition, though equally destructive to the effect of the building behind. The English plan of three spires, as at Lichfield, is by far the most pleasing arrangement; but this form the continental architects never attempted on an extensive scale, and consequently the single spire, as at Malines or Ulm, is perhaps the most satisfactory solution of the difficulty. If not that, then the triple-spired façade designed for Louvain would probably be the best.

Those above enumerated are certainly the finest specimens of Belgian ecclesiastical art. Almost all the churches erected afterwards, though some of them very beautiful, are characterised by the elaborate weakness of their age. Among these may be mentioned St. Gommaire at Lierre, commenced A.D. 1425, but not completed till nearly a century afterwards; and St. Jacques at Antwerp, a large and gorgeous church, possessing size and proportion worthy of the best age, but still unsatisfactory, from the absence of anything like true art or design pervading it. The same remarks do not apply to St. Waudru at Mons, 1450-1528, one of the very best specimens of its age—pleasing in proportion and elegant in detail. Internally a charming effect of polychromy is produced by the cold blue colour of the stone, contrasted with the red-brick filling-in of the vault; this contrast being evidently a part of the original design. By some singular freak of destiny it has escaped whitewash, so that we have here one instance at least of a true mode of decoration, and to a certain extent a very good one. The exterior of this church is also extremely pleasing for its age. Its tower and spire are unfortunately among those that we know only from the original drawings, which are still preserved, and show a very beautiful design.

Of about the same age (1522-1558) is St. Jacques at Liège (Woodcut No. 681), a church of the second class in point of size, being only 254 ft. in length internally, by 92 ft. across the nave. At the west end it still retains the screen of the old church, marked darker on the plan. The principal entrance is a splendid porch of flamboyant design on the north. The east end may be said to be a compromise between the French and German methods, for it is not a true chevet, inasmuch as it has not the circumscribing aisle, while its circlet of chapels prevents its being considered as a German apse. Altogether the plan is characteristic of its locality on the borders of France and Germany, for in it we find mixed together most of the peculiarities of both countries. For its age too the details are generally good, but as construction was no longer the ruling motive, confusion is the result. The most remarkable thing about the church is, that it is one of the very few churches in Europe which retain their polychromatic decorations in anything like completeness, especially on the roof. The paintings, however, are of late date, bordering on the cinque-cento period; yet the effect produced, though gorgeous, is remarkably pleasing and beautiful, and is in itself sufficient to set at rest the question as to the expediency of painting the vaults of churches, or leaving them plain. My own conviction is, that all French vaults were once painted to as great an extent as in this case. Our English architects often probably depended only on form and carving for effect, but on the Continent it was otherwise.

Of the remaining churches, St. Bavon’s at Ghent, and St. Martin’s at Liège, both commenced, as they now stand, in the middle of the 16th century, are among the most remarkable, and for their age are wonderfully free from any traces of the Renaissance. At the same age in France, or even in England, they would have been Italianised to a far greater extent.

There is scarcely a second-rate town or even a village in Belgium that does not possess a church of more or less importance of the Gothic age, or one at all events possessing some fragment or detail worthy of attentive study. This circumstance is easily explained from the fact that during the whole of the Mediæval period, from the 10th to the 16th century, Belgium was rich and prosperous, and since that time till the present comparatively so poor as to have had neither ambition to destroy nor power to rebuild. Considering its extent, the country is indubitably richer in monuments than France, or perhaps than any other country in Europe; but the architecture is neither so good or satisfactory nor of so high a class.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

II. CONTENTS

Civil Architecture—Belfries—Hall at Ypres—Louvain—Brussels—Domestic Architecture.

WHATEVER opinion we may form as to her ecclesiastical edifices, the real architectural pre-eminence of Belgium consists in her civil, or rather her municipal buildings, which surpass those of any other country. None of these are very old, which is easily accounted for. The rise of commercial enterprise in Belgium, though early compared with other European nations, was more recent than the age of military and ecclesiastical supremacy, and men were consequently obliged to erect castles to protect their property against robbers, and churches for their religious wants, before they could think of council-halls or municipal edifices.

In the 12th century, when the monarchy of France was consolidating itself, the cities of Belgium were gradually acquiring that wealth and those rights and privileges which soon placed them among the independent and most prosperous communities of Europe. One of the earliest architectural expressions of their newly-acquired independence was the erection of a belfry. The right of possessing a bell was one of the first privileges granted in all old charters, not only as a symbol of power, but as the means of calling the community together, either with arms in their hands to defend their walls, to repress internal tumults, for the election of magistrates, or for deliberation on the affairs of the commonwealth. The tower too in which the bell was hung was a symbol of power in the Middle Ages, and, whether on the banks of the Scheldt or the Po, the first care of every enfranchised community was to erect a “tower of pride” proportionate to their greatness.

The tower moreover was generally the record-office of the city, the place where the charters and more important deeds were preserved secure from fire; and in a place sufficiently fortified to protect them in the event of civic disturbances.

All these uses have passed away, and most of the belfries have either fallen into neglect or been removed or appropriated to other purposes. Of those remaining, the oldest seems to be that of Tournay, a fine tower, though a good deal altered and its effect destroyed by more modern additions.

The belfry at Ghent was commenced in 1183, but the stone-work was only completed in 1337. In 1376 a wooden spire was placed upon it, making up the height to 237 ft. This was taken down in 1855 in order to complete the tower according to the original design, which, like that of most of the unfinished buildings of Belgium, has been carefully preserved. It has since been completed by the addition of an iron spire (375 ft.) painted to look like stone. The Woodcut No. 682 is a reduction of the original drawing, which, though not so perfect as some others, gives a fair idea of what it was intended to be.

The belfry of Brussels was one of the finest in the country, but after various misfortunes it fell in 1714, and is only known now by a model still preserved in the city.

At Ypres and Bruges the belfries form part of the great halls of the city. Those at Lierre, Nieuport, Alost, Furnes, and other cities, have been all more or less destroyed by alterations, and are more interesting to the antiquary than to the architect; moreover, like the cities themselves, they never could have been of the first class, or remarkable for any extraordinary magnificence.

The great municipal halls, which are found in all the principal cities of Belgium, are of three classes:—1. Town-halls—the municipal senate-houses and courts of justice. 2. Trade-halls or market-houses, the principal of which were cloth-halls, cloth having been the great staple manufacture of Belgium during the Middle Ages. And lastly Guildhalls, or the separate places of assembly of the different guilds or associated trades of the cities.

As far as existing examples go, it would appear that the trade halls were the first erected. The cloth-hall at Ypres is by far the most magnificent and beautiful of these, as also the earliest. The foundation-stone was laid in 1200 by Baldwin of Constantinople, but it was not finished till 104 years afterwards. The façade is 440 ft. in length, and of the simplest possible design, being perfectly straight and unbroken from end to end. The windows of each storey, all of one design, are repeated, not only along the whole front, but at each end. Its height is varied by the noble belfry which rises from its centre, and by a bold and beautiful pinnacle at each end. The whole is of the pure architecture of the 13th century, and is one of the most majestic edifices of its class to be seen anywhere. It might perhaps have been improved by the greater degree of expression and the bolder shadows which lines brought down to the ground would have given to it, but as it is, it is extremely pleasing from its simplicity and the perfect adaptation of its exterior to its internal arrangements. These consist of one vast hall on the ground-floor, supported by several ranges of columns, with long galleries and great halls above it for the use of the trade to which it was appropriated.

The town-hall at Bruges is perhaps the oldest building erected especially for that purpose in Belgium, the foundation-stone having been laid in 1377. It is a small building, being only 88 ft. in front by 65 in depth, and of a singularly pure and elegant design. Its small size causes it to suffer considerably from its immediate proximity to the cloth-hall and other trade-halls of the city. These, grouped with the belfry in their centre, occupy one end of the great Place, and, though not remarkable for beauty, either of design or detail, still form a most imposing mass. The belfry is one of the most picturesque towers in the country. Its original height was 356 ft., which was diminished by about 60 ft. by the removal of the spire in 1741, though it still towers above all the buildings of the city, and in that flat country is seen far and wide.

The finest of the town-halls of Belgium, built originally as such, is that of Brussels (Woodcut No. 684), commenced in 1401, and finished in 1455. In dimensions it is inferior to the cloth-hall at Ypres, being only 264 ft. in length by about 50 in depth, and its details, as may be supposed from its age, are less pure; but the spire that surmounts its centre, rising to the height of 374 ft., is unrivalled for beauty of outline and design by any spire in Belgium, and is entitled to take rank among the noblest examples of the class in Europe. Notwithstanding its late age, there is no extravagance, either in design or detail, about it; but the mode in which the octagon is placed on the square, and the outline broken and varied by the bold and important pinnacles that group around it, produce a most pleasing variety, without interfering with the main constructive lines of the building. The spire, properly so called, is small, so that its open-work tracery is pleasing and appropriate, which is more than can be said of some of its German rivals, in which this mode of ornamentation is quite unsuited to the large scale on which it is attempted.

Next in importance to this is the well-known and beautiful town-hall at Louvain (1448-1463), certainly the most elaborately decorated piece of Gothic architecture in existence. Though perhaps a little overdone in some parts, the whole is so consistent, and the outline and general scheme of decoration so good, that little fault can be found with it. In design it follows very closely the hall at Bruges, but wants the tower, which gives such dignity to those at Brussels and Ypres.

Towards the end of the same century (1481) the inhabitants of Ghent determined on the erection of a town-hall, which, had it ever been finished, would have surpassed all the others in size and richness, though whether it would have equalled them in beauty is more than doubtful. After a century of interrupted labour the design was abandoned before it was more than two-thirds completed, and now that age has softened down its extravagances, it is a pleasing and perhaps beautiful building. Nothing, however, can exceed the extent of tormented and unmeaning ornament that is spread over every part of it, showing great richness certainly, but frequently degenerating into very bad taste. The architecture of the hall at Ypres, though only half or one-third as costly in proportion to its extent, is far nobler and more satisfactory than this ever could have been. But when erected the day of true art was past, and its place was sought to be supplied by extent of ornament.

The same remarks apply to the town-hall at Oudenarde, a building evidently meant as a copy of that at Louvain, but having combined with it a belfry, in imitation of that at Brussels. The result is certainly rich and pleasing in general effect; but the details incidental to its age (1525) have marred the execution, and given to the whole a clumsiness and a flimsiness that greatly detract from its beauty. Even the effect of the belfry is spoiled by the temptation to exhibit a masonic trick, and make it appear as if standing on the two slight pillars of the porch. It is clever, but apparent stability is as necessary to true architectural beauty as real stability is to the dignity of the art.

Among the smaller halls that of Mons is perhaps the most elegant, and is very similar to that of St. Quentin, which, though now in France, was a Flemish city at the time of its erection.

In the days of her magnificence Mechlin attempted the erection of a splendid hall, which was intended to rival those of any of the neighbouring towns. Civic troubles, however, put a stop to the work before it was carried so far as to enable us now even to determine what the original design may have been.

Among minor edifices of the same class may be mentioned the cloth-halls of Louvain and Ghent, both of the best age, though small; and the Boucheries or meat-markets of Diest, Ypres, Antwerp, and other towns—the boatman’s lodge at Ghent and the burgesses’ lodge at Bruges, besides numerous other scattered memorials of civic magnificence that meet one everywhere in this great emporium of Mediæval industry.

Of palaces, properly so called, little remains in Belgium, worthy of notice, unless it be the palace of the Bishop of Liège (Woodcut No. 685), which, as far as size and richness of decoration are concerned, almost deserves the reputation it has attained. It was, however, unfortunately commenced at an age (1508) when the Gothic style, especially in civil buildings, was all but extinct, and it is impossible to admire its stunted columns and flat arches in such immediate proximity to the purer works of the preceding centuries.

Of the same age and style was the Exchange at Antwerp (1515). This building was more pleasing in its details: and, though commenced a few years later, its simpler and more monumental character seems to have preserved it from the individual caprices which are apparent in the palace, and which became the fatal characteristic of all future designs. Neither of these buildings can, however, be called in strictness Gothic designs, for the true spirit of that art had perished before they were commenced.

Many of the private dwelling-houses in the Flemish cities are picturesque and elegant, though hardly rising to the grade of specimens of fine art; but when grouped together in the narrow winding streets, or along the banks of the canals, the result is so varied and charming that we are inclined to ascribe to them more intrinsic beauty than they really possess as individual designs. Most of them are of brick, and the brick being used undisguisedly, and the buildings depending wholly on such forms as could be given to that material, they never offend our taste by shams; and the honest endeavour of the citizens to ornament their dwellings externally, meets here with the success that must always follow such an attempt. To exhibit this class of structures adequately would require far more illustration than is compatible with a work like the present, and would occupy the space that more properly belongs to buildings of a larger and more monumental class, and of higher pretensions to architectural effect, both in their design and the manner in which it is carried out.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

III. HOLLAND

CONTENTS.

Churches—Civil and Domestic Buildings.

THE moment we pass the boundary line which separates Belgium from Holland, we feel that we have stepped at once into a new architectural province. At last we have got among a people of pure Aryan or Teutonic race, without one trace of Turanian or Celtic blood in their veins, and who consequently carry out their architectural designs with a matter-of-fact simplicity that is edifying, if not charming. It is not that the kingdom of Holland is deficient in the possession of Mediæval churches—far from it—she possesses as many Gothic cathedrals as we do, and their average dimensions are equal to those which adorn this island; they belong also to the same age: but the result is wonderfully different.

The Dutch did not work out any part of the style for themselves; they attempted no novelties, and did not even give themselves the trouble to understand perfectly the style they were employing. They were then, as now, a religious people, and wanted churches, and built them according to the only pattern then available. No one can say that their churches were not perfectly adapted to the form of worship then prevalent, and in dimensions and dignity perfectly suited to the wants of the communities who erected them. Notwithstanding all this, they are only vast warehouses of devotion, and are utter failures as works of art.

If any one wishes to perfectly realise the difference between mere ornamental construction and ornamental construction which is also ornamented, he cannot do better than study carefully the design of these Dutch churches. Their dimensions are frequently grand, their proportions generally pleasing, and the subordination of the parts to each other often most judicious. On the other hand, the pillars of the pier arches are almost always round—the vaulting shafts poor, and never carried to a sufficient resting-place—the windows want mullions and tracery—the vaults are domed and stilted—the ribs lean—and everything in fact is pared down as closely to mere utility as is possible in such a style. In France or in England, in the same age, every stone would have spoken out and had a meaning; and every detail would not only have been in its right place, but would have expressed the reason of its being there, and the purpose to which it was applied.

To the want of artistic feeling, or real knowledge of the style, which is shown in the designs of the Dutch churches, must be added the inferiority of the material in which they were carried out. Some are wholly of brick, and few are entirely of stone, though most of them have an admixture of the nobler material—and where brick is employed, without great care and artistic feeling, the result is generally poor and unsatisfactory.

Judged by their dimensions alone, the churches of Holland ought to be almost as interesting as those of Belgium, for they are generally large, with lofty and well-proportioned aisles, and transepts which project boldly. They have frequently tall and not ungraceful western towers, and sometimes large windows filled with good tracery, though mostly of a late age. Notwithstanding all these requisites of a perfect Gothic church, there is not one of them that must not be considered a failure, from the causes just mentioned.

These remarks apply especially to the great churches at Haarlem, Leyden, and Rotterdam, two at Amsterdam, and the two at Delft, the older of which contains some details worthy of attention. That at Gouda is remarkable for the beauty of its painted glass, though the architecture of the church is very unworthy of so brilliant an ornament.

The church at Dort is older than most of these, and has a venerable look about it that hides many of the faults of its architecture, but it will not bear examination.

The churches of Utrecht and Bois le Duc are to some extent exceptions to the general poverty of design which characterises the churches of Holland. This is owing probably to the situation of these two churches on the verge of the province, and their proximity to Belgium and Germany. That at Utrecht consists at the present day of merely two fragments—a choir and a tower, the nave that joined them having been destroyed by a storm and never replaced. What remains is good late German, though it is much disfigured by modern additions. The church at Bois le Duc is still a large and richly ornamented church, with a good deal of stone-work about it; but being too large for the decaying town in which it stands, it has suffered much from neglect, and is now in a very ruinous condition.

The church at Kampen, on the Zuyder Zee, is better than most others, and many of the smaller churches on the borders of the province are worthy of more attention than they have received. There are few abbeys or monastic buildings of any importance to be found, such establishments never having been suited to the industrious character of the Dutch people.

Bad as are the churches of Holland, the town-halls and civic buildings are even worse. With the single exception of the town-hall at Middelburg, erected in 1468 by Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, and a fine example of its kind, there are none, in the whole of the Netherlands, which can be classed as works of fine art. Even age has been unable to render them tolerably picturesque; nor are there in the province any belfries with their picturesque forms, nor any palaces worthy of note, which belong to the Middle Ages. The older dwelling-houses are sometimes picturesque and pleasing, but less so than those of Belgium. Most of them are unpretending specimens of honest building, the result of which is often satisfactory; and combined, as they generally are in Dutch towns, with water and trees, and with the air of neatness and comfort which pervades the whole, we sometimes scarcely feel inclined to quarrel with the absence of higher elements of art when so pleasing a result has been produced without them.

Notwithstanding all this, it might be well worth while to give one or two examples of the plans and illustrations of some of the churches in Holland in a work like the present, not so much for their own sake, as for comparison with other buildings; but the materials do not exist. The Dutch have shown the same indifference to the conservation of their Mediæval monuments which their forefathers exhibited in their erection, and not one has been edited in modern times in such a manner as to admit of being quoted.[51] The history of this variety remains for the present to be written, but fortunately it is one of the least important of its class.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

I. INTRODUCTORY

CONTENTS.

Chronology and Historical Notice.

CHRONOLOGY.

A.D. Charlemagne (Karl der Grosze) 768 to 814 Conrad I. of Franconia 911 Henry the Fowler Saxon 919 Otho I. Saxon 936 Otho II. Saxon 973 Otho III. Saxon 983 Henry II. 1002 Conrad II. Franconian 1024 Henry III. Franconian 1039 Henry IV. Franconian 1056 Henry V. Franconian 1106 Lothaire III. of Saxony 1125 Conrad III. Hohenstaufen 1138 Frederick I., Barbarossa Hohenstaufen 1152 Henry VI. Hohenstaufen 1190 Otho IV., the Guelph Hohenstaufen 1198 Frederick II. Hohenstaufen 1215 William of Holland Swabia 1247 Period of Anarchy Swabia 1256 Richard of Cornwall Swabia 1257 Alphonso of Castile Swabia 1258 Rudolph of Hapsburg 1273 Adolph of Nassau 1292 Albert of Austria 1298 Louis of Bavaria 1314 Charles of Luxemburg 1347 Wenceslaus of Bohemia 1378 Rupert of the Palatinate 1400 Sigismund of Hungary 1410 Frederick III. Hapsburg 1440 Maximilian I. Hapsburg 1493 Charles V. Hapsburg 1519 to 1556

AS might be expected from the known difference of race, the history of architecture in Germany differs in the most marked degree from that of France; and instead of a number of distinct nationalities being gradually absorbed into one great central despotism, and their individuality obliterated, as happened in that country, we find Germany commencing as a great uniting power under Charlemagne and the Othos, but with a strong tendency to disintegration from first to last. Had the Germans been as pure Aryans as they are sometimes supposed to be, they might under certain circumstances have resolved themselves into an aggregation of village communities under one paramount protector. The presence of a Celtic dominion on their western frontier, always greedy for territory, and always prepared to fight either for its acquisition, or for anything else, prevented such a catastrophe as this. But the tendency in those parts of Germany where the blood was purest was towards every city becoming an independent community, every trade an independent guild, and every lordship a little kingdom in so far as independence was concerned. All this, however, was the natural tendency of the race, and by no means involved the cutting up of the country into separate architectural provinces. Had the country indeed been divided into 1000 or 1500 separate principalities and free cities, instead of one-tenth of that number, the uniformity would have been greater than it is, and from the Alps to the Baltic we should have had only one style, as was very nearly being the case during the Middle Ages. The greatest difference that strikes the observer at first sight, is the change of style between the buildings on the banks of the Rhine and those on the shores of the Baltic. This, however, is more superficial than real, and arose from the fact of no stone being found on the sandy plains of Prussia. The inhabitants of Northern Germany were forced to use brick, and that only, and consequently employed forms which were different from those used in stone countries, but varying from them constructively more than essentially. There may nevertheless be a certain infusion of Wendish blood in Northern Germany, which may to some extent have influenced the style, but it is not easy to trace or isolate it.

On the eastern boundary of the province a well-marked ethnographic distinction may easily be detected. In Bohemia and Moravia a strong infusion of Sclavonic feeling does tincture the art, but not to its advantage. In these countries there are some very grand Gothic buildings; but they are wild and ill-understood as Gothic designs, and by no means satisfy the judgment of any one who is familiar with the best examples in France or England. In Siebenbürgen,[52] as might be expected, the style is still more abnormal, but it would take more trouble and more illustration to describe it than its importance deserves; for, except the cathedral at Karlsburg, it does not possess any building of great architectural magnificence. Its general characteristic is that it is more Italian than German, though not the less interesting for that very reason.

The history of Gothic architecture in Germany began practically with Charlemagne and ended with Charles V. There may be some buildings erected before the date of the first-named king, but, if so, they are small and unimportant, and indeed it seems probable that the edifices left by the Romans sufficed for the early wants of the people. Some of these, like the church at Trèves, were built for Christian purposes; while others may have been in wood and have perished. Be that as it may, however, from the time of Charlemagne we can trace the history of the style with tolerable distinctness. A considerable impulse was given to it under the Othos (936-1002), and under the Hohenstaufens (1138-1268) the old round-arched style reached its culminating point of perfection. If any style deserves the name of German it is this, as it was elaborated in the valley of the Rhine, with very little assistance from any other nation beyond the hints obtained from the close connection that then existed between the Germans and the inhabitants of the valley of the Po.

With the house of Hapsburg (1273) a change came over the spirit of the country. What Germany did in the 18th century was only a repetition of what she had done in the 13th. At the later epoch she abandoned her native literature, almost her mother tongue—to speak French and to copy French fashions, as at the earlier epoch she forsook her own noble style of art to adopt the French pointed Gothic. Had she thoroughly understood and appreciated the French style, it might have been as well; but it was foreign to her tastes, she had never worked it out from the beginning, and it soon in consequence became exaggerated, and finally degenerated into a display of tricks and tours de force.

By a strange perversion of historical evidence, the Germans at one time attempted to appropriate to themselves the credit of the invention of the pointed style, calling it in consequence German architecture. The fact being that the pointed style was not only invented but perfected in France long before the Germans thought of introducing it; and when they adopted it, they did so without understanding it, and fell far short of the perfection to which it was carried by the French in all the edifices which they erected in the age of its greatest development in their own country.

On the other hand, the Germans may fairly claim the invention of the particular style which prevailed throughout Lombardy and Germany of which we are now speaking. This style, it is true, never was fully developed, and never reached that perfection of finish and completeness which the pointed style attained. Notwithstanding this, it contained as noble elements as the other, and was capable of as successful cultivation, and had its simpler forms and grander dimensions been elaborated with the same care and taste, Europe might have possessed a higher style of Mediæval architecture than she has yet seen. The task, however, was abandoned before it was half completed, and it is only too probable now that it can never be resumed.

A complete history of this style, worthy of its importance, is still a desideratum which it is to be hoped the zeal and industry of German architects will ere long supply, and vindicate their national art from the neglect it now lies under, by illustrating as it deserves one of the most interesting chapters in the history of architecture.[53] Already German writers seem to be aware that the age of the Hohenstaufens was not only the most exclusively national, but also the most brilliant period of their history. Its annals have engaged the pens of their best historians, and its poetry has been rescued from obscurity and commented upon with characteristic fulness. Every phase of their civilisation has been fully illustrated, except one—that one being their architecture, which is, however, the noblest and the most living record of what they did or aspired to do, that could be left for their posterity to study. So distinctly is it their own, that, were it necessary to find for it a separate name, the style of the Hohenstaufens would be that which would most correctly describe it.

The leading characteristics of the German style are the double apsidal arrangement of plan, the multiplication of small circular or octagonal towers, combined with polygonal domes, at the intersections of the transepts with the nave, and the extended use of galleries under the eaves of the roofs both of the apses and of the straight sides. The most ornamental parts are the doorways and the capitals of the columns. The latter surpass in beauty and in richness anything of their kind executed during the Middle Ages, and, though sometimes rude in execution, they equal in design any capitals ever invented. These only required the experience and refinement of another century of labour to qualify them to compete successfully with any parts of the pointed style of architecture which they borrowed from the French, and which in the course of time entirely superseded their own native style.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us