subject of the carving in French churches of this period. No one can
have failed to notice the Corinthianesque outline of the capitals which
prevail in France from early in the twelfth to the end of the thirteenth
century. It has, indeed, been remarked by writers on the subject, that
this Corinthian character greatly increased _just before_ the period of
the transition. Though the effects of importations of Byzantine taste
are evinced in the Romanesque ornamentation throughout the whole period
of its duration, it seems generally to have come in the form of
manufactured goods, woven fabrics, jewellery, etc., etc.; and though the
patterns, both of Byzantine and other
[Illustration: Fig. 18.--Greek Acanthus, from the Choragic Monument to
Lysicrates, Athens.]
[Illustration: Fig. 19.--Roman Acanthus from the Temple of Mars, Ultor.]
Oriental manufactures, are to be traced in the Romanesque ornaments, and
were the origin of many of those most familiar to us, actual
architectural features of Classic form, such as capitals, do not seem to
have been very directly copied, excepting where the remains of antique
buildings were at hand to offer models. The Romanesque capitals of
earlier date are, in many cases, of types belonging to no other style,
though in others they betray a distant descent from the Roman; and the
cushion capital, and perhaps others, seem derived from Byzantium; but
generally their forms differ much from the original, till we approach
the period of which I am treating, when suddenly they assume an almost
Classic form--the acanthus being freely used, and that of a variety
resembling that of ancient Greece (Fig. 18), as distinguished from Rome
(Fig. 19); and the same Greek leafage being found in cornices (Fig. 21),
scroll-work (Fig. 20), and almost every other position in which it could
be used. Not having travelled in the south of France, I will not venture
to be very dogmatic as to the cause of this sudden change. I fancy,
from such drawings as I have seen, that this Byzantine capital prevails
a good deal in the south of France, but I am not able with certainty to
distinguish it from the capitals directly imitated from Classic remains
around.[13] M. Viollet de Duc views them all as being of this origin,
calling them Gallo-Romaine, as distinguished from the Romanesque
capitals found side by side with them. I view those, however, I am
treating of as _distinctly Byzantine_, and the following facts suggest a
route by which the purely Byzantine foliage may have reached the north
of France.
[Illustration: Fig. 20.--Scroll, St. Denis.]
[Illustration: Fig. 21--Part of a Cornice, St. Denis.]
The Church of St. Mark, at Venice, was erected between the years 977 and
1071, and its capitals are, many of them, precisely of the kind I am
naming (Fig. 22), and are also identical with many at Constantinople
(Fig. 23). No one who has had a training in drawing the Corinthian
capital will fail to recognise at Venice that variety of the acanthus by
which he has been accustomed to distinguish the Greek from the Roman
Corinthian. According to M. de Verneill, the Church of St. Frond, at
[Illustration: Fig. 22.--Capital from the Church of St. Mark, Venice.]
[Illustration: Fig 23.--Capital from St. John’s, Constantinople.]
[Illustration: Fig. 24.--Capital from the Church of St. Frond,
Perigueux.]
[Illustration: Fig. 25.--Fragment of Capital from St. Frond, Perigueux.]
Perigueux, was built at nearly the same time, in the centre of France,
but under the influence of Venetian merchants. This church is a direct
imitation of St. Mark’s at Venice; but besides the distinctly Byzantine
forms which characterise this and the numerous family of churches which
imitate it, it contains capitals of exactly the same kind as those at
Venice (Figs. 24, 25); and from shortly after this time we find them
becoming prevalent in districts
[Illustration: Fig. 26.--Capital from the Column of Marcion,
Constantinople.]
the other Byzantine features of the Perigordian churches are not
followed. I give a series of capitals from Constantinople (Figs. 23,
26), Venice (Fig. 22), and Perigueux (Figs. 24, 25), which can be
compared with those I exhibit from St. Denis (Figs. 20, 21), St. Germain
des Pres (Fig. 27), etc., etc., to show how indisputable and how direct
is the importation, though, unlike the works of Classic architects, we
find no two capitals alike. They have other points of resemblance to the
Corinthian capital, as the cauliculi, and a rudimental relic of the
concave-planned abacus. This we find also in Pisan architecture, and in
that of the Moors in Sicily, and probably in all styles which were
influenced by the Byzantine; and it was, no doubt, derived from the
practice, which arose when the Corinthian capital began to be used
directly to bear an arch (and that _overhanging_ the column), of placing
a strong square block over the more delicate abacus, to defend it
against the fracture to which it would otherwise have been subject.
These features will be found in nearly every church of the transitional
period in the part of France of which I am speaking, and probably in
nearly all parts.[14]
[Illustration: Fig. 27.--St. Germain des Pres, Paris.]
The Corinthianesque foliage became the originator of the magnificent
capitals which pervade the finest French works of the thirteenth
century, though the foliage became entirely altered; and in our own
country, though the Byzantine original is seen, I believe, only in the
work of William of Sens, at Canterbury,[15] the _effects_ of it are
visible in the outline of many of our finest Early English capitals,
though these are so distinctly national, and differ so much in treatment
from those in France.
Nearly contemporaneous with Suger’s work is the west front of the
Cathedral of Chartres, one of the very noblest productions of the style.
It is not, I believe, exactly known when this façade was either
commenced or completed, but the towers were actively progressing in
1145. The three central portals are of peculiar magnificence (Figs. 29,
30, 31, 32, 33); they are too elaborate for me to venture upon
illustrating them by drawings.
[Illustration: Figs. 29, 30, 31, 32, 33.--Enriched Shafts from Chartres]
The figures in the jambs are, as was usual at the period, in the same
block with the shafts themselves, and their extraordinary elongation,
and the long upright folds of their draperies were, no doubt, intended
to harmonise with their position as parts of columns. The heads are of
peculiar dignity and grace. These doorways are probably the finest
remaining of the transitional period. Their excessive richness contrasts
strikingly with the severe though noble simplicity of the remainder of
the façade, and displays not only that tendency to lavish all the
resources of art upon the doorways, which so especially characterises
French art, but also illustrates, in the most striking manner, the
absolute independence of the architecture of mere ornamentation, and, at
the same time, the freedom with which it avails itself of it; the rich
doorways and the severely plain towers being equally glorious specimens
of the style, and neither suffering in the least by juxtaposition with
the other.
I will just call attention to the singular ornamentation of the pedestal
or basement of the doorways, by means of fluting, etc. This was common
in France at that period, though I am not able to trace it to its
source. It is almost identical with that of the western doorway of St.
Germain des Pres,[16] and we find it carried out with still greater
richness in the somewhat later doorways which flank the western façade
at Rouen.
The capitals in this façade (at Chartres) are of the kind I have above
described. The southern tower and spire are most noble in their
composition, and are hardly exceeded in beauty by those of any
subsequent period.
The next example I will allude to is the Cathedral of Noyon. The date
of this cathedral is unknown; but the old church having been destroyed
by fire in 1131, and the Bishop (Beaudoin), who shortly after succeeded
to the see, being an intimate friend of Abbot Suger, it has been put
down almost as an historical certainty that he commenced rebuilding the
church not long after the erection of that of St. Denis, and that the
designs were made under the advice of Suger. I am not prepared either to
subscribe to this implicitly or to dispute it. On first examining the
church, my impression was adverse to this theory; but St. Denis itself
looks so much later than it is, and the apparent anomalies in the dates
of this period are so perplexing, that one is disposed to hesitate
before disputing a theory supported by such men as Viollet le Duc. If,
however, the idea be correct, I should limit the early date to the
_lower portion_ of the choir. The same intermixture of the round arch
with the pointed obtains throughout the cathedral; but not only are the
mouldings of later section in the western parts (as M. le Duc points
out), but the capitals which prevail in the upper storeys of the choir
itself are of a kind which I cannot think so early as the date assigned.
The capitals of the lower storey (or the aisles and apsidal chapels),
are of the Corinthianesque description, intermixed with others of
interwoven stalks, etc., and are eminently beautiful.
I give a sketch of one of the apsidal chapels, both within (Fig. 34) and
without (Figs. 35, 36), as a parallel to those at St. Denis. The
comparison will certainly tend to confirm the theory as to its date, as
the prevalence of the round arch gives it an appearance of even earlier
age; but we shall see from other examples that this evidence is not
wholly to be relied on.
[Illustration: Figs. 34, 35.--Cathedral of Noyon. Interior and Exterior
of one of the Apsidal Chapels.]
[Illustration: Fig. 36.--Cathedral of Noyon. Plan of one of the Apsidal
Chapels.]
The plan of this church is exceedingly beautiful, having apsidal
terminations, not only to the choir (Fig. 36), but to each transept. In
this it is supposed to have been imitated from the noble transepts at
Tournay, with which see Noyon was connected till the year 1153, almost
the very year to which both of these works have been attributed, though
the transepts at Tournay are still purely Romanesque, and that of the
very grandest and boldest kind, excepting only the pointed vaulting;
while those at Noyon (which, however, are somewhat later than the choir)
are of very light and almost flimsy construction, and though containing
many round arches, are, in their whole aspect, of the Pointed style.
The church at Noyon is of a construction to which I barely alluded in my
former lecture--that in which the aisles are of two storeys, both of
which are vaulted.
It is customary to call this second storey a triforium, but I should
rather term it a _gallery_, for the triforium proper occupies the
interval between the roof and the vaulting of the aisles, a space which
occurs _over_ these galleries; so that a church of this construction has
_four_ storeys--the aisle, the gallery, the triforium, and the
clerestory; the triforium being, as its name seems to import, the
_third_ storey, though in churches of the more customary type it is only
the _second_. This construction was very common at this period in France
and Germany, though in England I recollect only one instance--the choir
of Gloucester--which, however, is so altered as almost to conceal its
construction.[17] The vaulting at Noyon is pointed, but its side cells
are, I think, in every case round. The exterior of the apsidal chapels
at Noyon is not unlike those at St. Denis, though without its crypt.
Like it, it has columns used for buttresses, an idea inherited from
those of earlier date--as those at Nôtre Dame du Pont at Clermont, at
Issoire, and many others.
There are noble portals on the east sides of the transepts in which the
carved foliage is of the most gorgeous description, and which were
formerly replete with sculpture, every vestige of which is now gone,
having been most carefully cut out at the Revolution.
On the whole, this church is one of the best studies of the transition,
though defective in one important element--a _date_.
The next example I will notice is the Church of St. Germain des Pres at
Paris, an example of special value from its possessing the element which
we lack at Noyon. It was dedicated in 1163, or nineteen years after St.
Denis.
The comparison of St. Germain with St. Denis leads to one of the most
curious questions connected with this part of architectural history; for
during this interval of nearly twenty years _no progress whatever_ would
appear to have been made; indeed, to judge from the buildings, one would
be disposed to transpose their dates; for while the eastern part of St.
Denis, in 1144, is purely pointed (the crypt alone excepted), St.
Germain, in 1163, has round arches used in most prominent positions,
though in other respects exactly agreeing in detail; and this in a most
important church in the royal city itself.
How is this long stagnation to be explained?
I will not pretend to answer it positively, but I would suggest the
following solution:--Two years after Louis VII. and Queen Eleanor
attended the consecration of St. Denis, they set out on a great
Crusade--the one at the head of 10,000 warriors, the other of a troop of
Amazons she had levied from among the ladies of her court. The Amazons
and their inordinate amount of baggage led to the destruction of the
army at the battle of Laodicea. The king returned to his dominions
impoverished and humbled, shortly after which his Amazonian consort,
obtaining a divorce, deprived him at one stroke of half of his
dominions, and transferred the rich Provençal dower to Henry II., the
English king. I would suggest, then, whether this sudden stoppage in the
development of architecture may not be accounted for by the equally
sudden exhaustion of the resources of the French kingdom, as the early
commencement of the improved style has been in a measure attributed to
its previous increase in prosperity?
[Illustration: Fig. 37.--St. Germain des Pres, Paris. Two Bays of
Choir.]
The sculptural art at St. Germain des Pres seems exactly on a par with
that at St. Denis and Chartres. The capitals are either of the Byzantine
Corinthianesque, or are filled with animals (natural and grotesque), or
consist of a union of both. They are exceedingly fine examples of their
style, and I have selected one[18] of them as a type of the style. The
design of the interior of the choir, though severely simple, is
exceedingly fine, and in some degree original. I exhibit a sketch of two
of its bays (Fig. 37).
[Illustration: Fig. 38.--St. Germain des Pres, Paris. Western Doorway.]
The western doorway (Fig. 38) seems to have very closely resembled those
at Chartres; but the whole of the sculpture has been removed, excepting
from the tympanum, which still bears the representation of the Last
Supper; and the shafts, which, we are informed, bore full-length
figures--alternating, in all probability, with smaller ones richly
diapered, as at St. Denis, Chartres, and Bourges--have been exchanged
for plain ones. The capitals are of rich Corinthianesque foliage,
amongst which are represented grotesque birds, harpies, etc. The
basement or pedestal is fluted exactly as at Chartres. On the whole,
this church deserves much more attention than it seems generally to have
received.
[Illustration: Fig. 39.--Cathedral of Sens. Interior View.]
I now come to an example of peculiar interest to ourselves;--that
cathedral which it is customary to suppose to be the parent of our own
Pointed architecture; and which, though I by no means subscribe to that
opinion, possesses an interest sufficiently deep as being, without
question, the prototype of the glorious choir at the Trinity Chapel at
Canterbury,--the metropolitan church of all England--and as having,
through them, exercised a powerful influence, and given a certain
degree of French colouring to the immediately succeeding developments
throughout the length and breadth of our land. I need hardly say that I
allude to the cathedral of Sens.
I am ashamed to say I had not seen this noble church till a short tour I
have made during the present winter,[19] and with reference to the
present lecture. I had unconsciously entertained a certain feeling of
jealousy towards it, arising from the exaggerated opinions constantly
expressed as to the entire dependence upon it of our Pointed style; but
my first exclamation on entering its nave was, “Well, if our Gothic
churches are all derived from this, they had, to say the least, a
_glorious_ parentage!”
Though a cathedral of the second magnitude, and much injured by
subsequent alterations, I know few which have a nobler or more
impressive aspect. Even the soaring interior of Amiens, which I chanced
to visit the day after, did not efface from my mind the sterner grandeur
of Sens.
The interior is extremely simple (Fig. 39), and rather obtains its
impressive effect from the magnitude of its leading features, and still
more from the noble sentiment which must have pervaded the mind of its
designer, than from anything which can be specifically defined in words.
Its nave is of unusual width, being 49 feet from centre to centre of the
pillars, which are alternately vast clustered piers of about 11 feet 6
inches diameter (a large portion of which runs up to the vaulting), and
coupled columns of nearly three feet diameter each. The triforium is
somewhat too small--the only
[Illustration: Fig. 40.--Cathedral of Sens. View of Choir Aisles.]
fault in the composition--and the clerestory windows have,
unfortunately, been renewed at a later age. It is generally stated that
the whole of the vaulting was renewed with them: this, however, is
incorrect; the only parts renewed were the side cells, which, as is
proved by evidence I need not here go into, were round-arched, and came
low in the clerestory wall, thus diminishing the height of the
windows--a defect which led to their reconstruction. Not only are the
ribs of the original section, but the bosses are clearly of the same
early age, which, I think, is sufficient to disprove the idea of the
vaults having been rebuilt. The vaulting of the aisles has round
transverse arches, and the aisle windows, as well as the wall-arcading,
are round-arched (Fig. 40). The carving is of the same kind with that I
have so often described, and most of it is severely simple. Some of the
capitals to the wall-arcading are very rich, and many of them contain
grotesque animals, birds, etc., finely carved (Figs. 41, 42).
[Illustration: Figs. 41, 42.--Sens. Capitals from Choir Aisles.]
The west portals were, probably, the latest part of the original church,
and have since been altered by the substitution of tympana of later
date; but the sculptured art they contain is some of the very finest of
its period, many of the figures being of classic beauty, and of far more
than classic expression. This church was dedicated in 1167, though (with
the sole exception of the portals) its character would have led one to
place it earlier than St. Denis.
Two years before the consecration of Sens was commenced the great
crowning work of the French transition--Nôtre Dame at Paris.[20] Its
erection occupied the remainder of the century, while that of the
western façade reaches over the first quarter of the succeeding one. I
will not attempt a description of what this most noble church was in its
original condition: it will be found clearly particularised in M.
Viollet le Duc’s Dictionary--a work which should be in the hands of
every architectural student. I will rather confine myself to its
influence upon sculptured foliage.
[Illustration: Fig. 43.--Nôtre Dame.]
On its first commencement no advance was made upon the Byzantine carving
of St. Denis; indeed, the capitals in the eastern gallery look almost
more archaic than their predecessors of twenty or thirty years’ earlier
date. It is curious, however, that the capitals of the large columns
below these galleries are in a decidedly more advanced style. This M. le
Duc ingeniously attributes to the employment of artists of different
ages, and to the preference given (in an age of advancement) to the
younger ones, leading to the more important capitals being committed to
their hands. I should, however, be inclined to account for it
differently, by supposing the smaller and more detached capitals to have
been carved before they were fixed, and those of the great pillars left
to the last thing before the removal of the scaffolding. I can
appreciate this by my own experience, for in the church I am building at
Hamburg there will be some ten years’ interval between the carving of
the triforium and of the pillars which support it; during which interval
I am horrified when I recollect that _all but one_ of the artists have
died from the destructive effects of the stone dust, and that one has
been saved only by my having requested him to relinquish carving and to
content himself with making models for others to work from--a system
which, under other circumstances, is one of the advisableness of which I
entertain doubts.
The capitals, however, in the _nave_ are those which best display the
enormous advance now being made. I should not have dwelt so long on the
merely antiquarian fact of the importation of the Byzantine
[Illustration: Figs. 44, 45, 46.--Nôtre Dame, Paris.]
Corinthian into France, had it not led to this glorious result. In the
nave of Nôtre Dame every vestige of this _Greekesque_ foliage is got rid
of, its general outline alone excepted;[23] and a kind perfectly new and
most truly noble is subtituted, founded slightly on reminiscences of the
true Romanesque foliage previous to the Oriental importation, retaining
the outline suggested by the acanthus leaf, but worked up into a form
which had never before been hinted at, and which was destined to effect
a great revolution in this branch of art. From this time forward (till
the end of the thirteenth century) the French carving is noble and
effective in the very highest degree--at first gradually approaching
natural forms without directly imitating them, but eventually adopting
frankly the productions of nature as its guide, but so far
conventionalising them as to fit them perfectly to their position, and
to make them produce a contour
[Illustration: Figs. 47, 48.--Nôtre Dame, Paris.]
[Illustration: Fig. 49.--St. Leu, near Creil.
Capital from the apse.]
[Illustration: Fig. 50.--Nôtre Dame, West Front.]
[Illustration: Fig. 51.--St. Eusèbe, Auxerre.]
harmonising with, and adding the utmost beauty to, the features of the
architecture to which they are applied. I exhibit specimens of this
class of foliage in Nôtre Dame (Figs. 47, 48). I will also call
attention to a drawing of one of the capitals from the apse of St. Leu,
near Creil (said to have been executed a little after a great accession
of wealth to the abbey in 1175, M. le Duc says about 1190), as a
specimen of the same advance in foliaged carving, and to some of the
capitals from the west front of Nôtre Dame (about 1220) as examples of
its success just before the systematic introduction of natural foliage.
[Illustration: Fig. 52.--Noyon. Capital from the apse.]
[Illustration: Fig. 53.--Laon. Capital.]
[Illustration: Fig. 54.--Sens.]
[Illustration: Fig. 55.--Nôtre Dame.]