Transcriber’s Note
When italics were used in the original book, the corresponding text has
been surrounded by _underscores_. Superscripts have been indicated by
preceding the superscripted letters with ^. When more than one character
in a row is superscripted, the letters have been surrounded with {}.
Ditto marks have been replaced by the text they represent. Some
corrections have been made to the printed text. These are listed in a
second transcriber’s note at the end of the text.
[Illustration: PORTAL OF THE CONVENT AT BELEM, NEAR LISBON.]
A
HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE
IN ALL COUNTRIES,
FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE PRESENT DAY.
BY JAMES FERGUSSON, D.C.L., F.R.S., M.R.A.S.,
FELLOW ROYAL INST. BRIT. ARCHITECTS,
_&c. &c. &c._
[Illustration: Façade of Church at Tourmanin.]
IN FIVE VOLUMES.—VOL. II.
_THIRD EDITION._
EDITED BY R. PHENÉ SPIERS, F.S.A.,
FELLOW ROYAL INST. BRITISH ARCHITECTS.
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET,
1893.
_The right of Translation is reserved._
FERGUSSON’S ARCHITECTURE.
_Third Edition, with 330 Illustrations, 2 vols., medium 8vo_, 31s. 6d.
A HISTORY OF THE MODERN STYLES
OF ARCHITECTURE.
By the late JAMES FERGUSSON, F.R.S.
A New Edition, Revised and Enlarged. With a Special Account of
the Architecture of America.
By ROBERT KERR, Professor of Architecture at King’s College, London.
---------------------
BY THE SAME.
_New and Cheaper Edition, with 400 Illustrations, medium 8vo_, 31s. 6d.
A HISTORY OF INDIAN AND EASTERN
ARCHITECTURE.
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
PART II.—CHRISTIAN ARCHITECTURE.
(_Continued._)
BOOK II.—ITALY.
(_Continued._)
CHAP. PAGE
VII. Circular churches—Towers at Prato and Florence—Porches— 1
Civic buildings—Town-halls—Venice—Doge’s Palace—Cà d’Oro—
Conclusion
VIII. SICILY—Population of Sicily—The Saracens—Buildings at 22
Palermo—Cathedral of Monreale—Cefalu—The Pointed Arch
IX. GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE IN PALESTINE—Church of Holy 32
Sepulchre, Jerusalem—Churches at Abû Gosh and Lydda—Mosque
at Hebron
BOOK III.—FRANCE.
I. Division of subject—Pointed arches—Provence—Churches at 39
Avignon, Arles, Alet, Fontifroide, Maguelonne, Vienne—
Circular churches—Towers—Cloisters
II. AQUITANIA—Churches at Périgueux, Souillac, Angoulême, 64
Alby, Toulouse, Conques, Tours—Tombs
III. ANJOU—Cathedral at Angers—Church at Fontevrault— 81
Poitiers—Angiovine spires
IV. AUVERGNE—Church at Issoire—Clermont—Fortified Church at 89
Royat
V. BURGUNDY—Church of St. Martin d’Ainay—Cathedral at le 94
Puy-en-Velay—Abbeys of Tournus and Cluny—Cathedral of
Autun—Church of St. Menoux
VI. FRANKISH PROVINCE—Exceptional buildings—Basse Œuvre, 104
Beauvais—Montier-en-Der
VII. NORMANDY—Triapsal Churches—Churches at Caen— 110
Intersecting Vaulting—Bayeux
VIII. FRANKISH ARCHITECTURE—Historical notice—The pointed 120
arch—Freemasonry—Mediæval architects
IX. FRENCH GOTHIC CATHEDRALS—Paris—Chartres—Rheims—Amiens— 130
Other Cathedrals—Later style—St. Ouen’s, Rouen
X. Gothic details—Pillars—Windows—Circular Windows—Bays— 161
Vaults—Buttresses—Pinnacles—Spires—Decoration—
Construction—Furniture of Churches—Domestic architecture
BOOK IV.—BELGIUM AND HOLLAND.
I. Historical notice—Old Churches—Cathedral of Tournay— 187
Antwerp—St. Jacques at Liège
II. Civil Architecture—Belfries—Hall at Ypres—Louvain— 199
Brussels—Domestic architecture
III. HOLLAND—Churches—Civil and Domestic Buildings 206
BOOK V.—GERMANY.
I. INTRODUCTORY—Chronology and Historical notice 209
II. Basilicas—Plan of St. Gall—Church at Reichenau— 213
Romain-Motier—Granson—Church at Gernrode—Trèves—
Hildesheim—Cathedrals of Worms and Spires—Churches at
Cologne—Other Churches and Chapels—Double Churches—Swiss
Churches
III. CIRCULAR CHURCHES—Aix-la-Chapelle—Nymwegen—Fulda—Bonn— 247
Cobern
IV. DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE—Lorsch—Palaces on the Wartburg— 255
Gelnhausen—Houses—Windows
V. POINTED STYLE IN GERMANY—History of style—St. Gereon, 264
Cologne—Churches at Gelnhausen—Marburg—Cologne Cathedral—
Freiburg—Strasburg—St. Stephen’s, Vienna—Nuremberg—
Mühlhausen—Erfurt
VI. Circular Churches—Church Furniture—Civil Architecture— 292
Town-hall at Brunswick
VII. NORTHERN GERMANY—BRICK ARCHITECTURE—Churches at Lubeck— 302
in Brandenburg—in Ermeland—Castle at Marienburg
BOOK VI.—SCANDINAVIA.
I. Sweden—Norway—Denmark—Gothland—Round Churches—Wooden 313
Churches
BOOK VII.—ENGLAND.
I. INTRODUCTORY 335
II. SAXON ARCHITECTURE 341
III. ENGLISH MEDIÆVAL ARCHITECTURE—Plans of English 345
Cathedral Churches—Vaults—Pier Arches—Window tracery—
External Proportions—Diversity of Style—Situation—
Chapter-Houses—Chapels—Parish Churches—Details—Tombs—Civil
and Domestic Architecture
IV. ARCHITECTURE OF SCOTLAND—Affinities of Style—Early 418
Specimens—Cathedral of Glasgow—Elgin—Melrose—Other
Churches—Monasteries
V. IRELAND—Oratories—Round Towers—Domical Dwellings—Domestic 443
Architecture—Runic Cross Decoration
BOOK VIII.—SPAIN AND PORTUGAL.
I. SPAIN—INTRODUCTORY 460
II. Romanesque Churches at Naranco, Roda, and Leon—Early 464
Spanish Gothic: Churches at Santiago, Zamora, Toro, Avila,
Salamanca, and Tarragona—Middle Pointed style: Churches at
Toledo, Burgos, Leon, Barcelona, Manresa, Gerona, Seville—
Late Gothic style: Churches at Segovia, Villena—Moresco
style: Churches at Toledo, Ilescas, and Saragoza
III. CIVIL ARCHITECTURE—Monastic Buildings—Municipal 502
Buildings—Castles
IV. PORTUGAL—Church of Batalha—Alcobaça—Belem 507
PART III.—SARACENIC AND ANCIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE.
BOOK I.
I. SARACENIC ARCHITECTURE IN CHRISTIAN COUNTRIES; OR, 512
BYZANTINE SARACENIC—Introduction
II. SYRIA AND EGYPT—Mosques at Jerusalem—El Aksah—Dome of 516
the Rock—Mosque at Damascus—Egypt—Mosques at Cairo—Mosque
at Kerouan—Other African buildings—Mecca
III. SPAIN—Introductory Remarks—Mosque at Cordoba—Palace at 542
Zahra—Churches at Sta. Maria and Cristo de la Luz at
Toledo—Giralda at Seville—Palace of the Alcazar—The
Alhambra—Sicily
IV. TURKEY—Mosques of Mahomet II.—Suleimanie and Ahmedjie 556
Mosques—Mosques of Sultanas Validé, and of Osman III.—
Civil and Domestic Architecture—Fountains, &c.
V. PERSIA—Historical notice—Tombs at Bagdad—Imaret at 567
Erzeroum—Mosque at Tabreez—Tomb at Sultanieh—Bazaar at
Ispahan—College of Husein Shah—Palaces and other
Buildings—Turkestan
BOOK II.—ANCIENT AMERICA.
I. INTRODUCTORY 583
II. CENTRAL AMERICA—Historical notice—Central American 589
style—Temples—Palaces—Buildings at Palenque—Uxmal, &c.
III. PERU—Historical notice—Titicaca—Tombs—Walls of Cuzco, 600
&c.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
NO. PAGE
_Frontispiece._—Portal of the Convent at Belem, near Lisbon.
_Vignette to Title-page._—Façade of Church at Tourmanin.
_Frontispiece to Part II._ (continued).—View of Cologne
Cathedral xvi
513. Plan of Baptistery, Parma 2
514. Baptistery at Parma, half Section half Elevation 2
515. View of the Duomo at Prato 3
516. Torracio at Cremona 4
517. Campanile, Palazzo Scaligeri, Verona 5
518. Campanile, S. Andrea, Mantua 6
519. Campanile at Florence 7
520. North Porch, Sta. Maria Maggiore, Bergamo 9
521. Palace of the Jurisconsults at Cremona 11
522. Broletto at Como 12
523. Ornamental Brickwork from the Broletto at Brescia 13
524. Window from the Cathedral of Monza 14
525, 526. Windows from Verona 15
527. Central Part of the Façade of the Doge’s Palace, Venice 16
528. Palace of Cà d’Oro, Venice 18
529. Angle Window at Venice 19
530. Ponte del Paradiso, Venice 20
531. San Giovanni degli Eremiti, Palermo 25
532. Plan of Church at Monreale 26
533. Portion of the Nave, Monreale 27
534. Lateral Entrance to Cathedral at Palermo 28
535. East End of Cathedral at Palermo 29
536. Plan of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem 34
537. Holy Sepulchre—Plan and Elevation as it existed before
the fire in 1808 35
538. Plan of Church at Abû Gosh 36
539. Section of East End of same 36
540. Section of East End of Church at Lydda 37
541. Plan of Apse of Church at Lydda 37
542. Plan of Mosque at Hebron 38
543. Diagram of the Architectural Divisions of France 41
544. Diagram of Vaulting 46
545. Diagram of Dome pendentives 47
546. Section of Church at Carcassonne, with the outer aisles
added in the 14th century 48
547. Porch of Notre Dame de Doms, Avignon 51
548. Porch of St. Trophime, Arles 52
549. Apse of Church at Alet 53
550. Internal Angle of Apse at Alet 54
551. Elevation of half one Bay of the Exterior of St.
Paul-Trois-Châteaux 55
552. Half bay of Interior of same 55
553. Longitudinal and Cross Section of Fontifroide Church 56
554. Doorway in Church at Maguelonne 57
555. Plan of Cathedral, Vienne 58
556. Plan of Church at Planes 59
557. Tower at Puissalicon 60
558. Church at Cruas 61
559. Cloister at Fontifroide 62
560, 561. Capitals in Cloister, Elne 62
562. Plan of St. Front, Périgueux 64
563. Part of St. Front, Périgueux 65
564. Interior of Church at Souillac 67
565. Plan of Cathedral at Angoulême 68
566. One Bay of Nave, Angoulême 68
567. Plan of Church at Moissac 69
568. Plan of Cathedral at Alby 69
569. Plan of Church of the Cordeliers, at Toulouse 70
570. Section of Church of the Cordeliers 71
571. Angle of Church of the Cordeliers 71
572. Plan of St. Sernin, Toulouse 72
573. Section of St. Sernin 72
574. Plan of Church at Conques 73
575. Plan of St. Martin at Tours 74
576. Plan of Church at Charroux 75
577. Plan of St. Benigne, Dijon 75
578. St. Sernin, Toulouse 77
579. Church at Aillas 78
580. Church at Loupiac 78
581. St. Eloi, Espalion 79
582. Tomb at St. Pierre, Toulouse 80
583. Plan of Cathedral at Angers 82
584. Plan of St. Trinité, Angers 82
585. View of the Interior of Loches 83
586. Plan of Church at Fontevrault 83
587. View of Chevet at Fontevrault 84
588. Elevation of one of the Bays of the Nave at Fontevrault 84
589. Façade of Church of Notre Dame at Poitiers 85
590. Plan of Cathedral at Poitiers 86
591. Spire at Cunault 87
592. Plan of Church at Issoire 89
593. Elevation of Church at Issoire 90
594. Section of Church at Issoire, looking East 90
595. Elevation of Chevet, Notre Dame du Port, Clermont 91
596. Plan of Chevet of same 92
597. Fortified Church at Royat 93
598. Façade of Church of St. Martin d’Ainay, Lyons 95
599. Cloister of Cathedral of Le Puy-en-Velay 96
600. View of Interior of Abbey at Tournus 97
601. Plan of Abbey Church at Cluny 98
602. View in Aisle at Autun 100
603. View in Nave at Autun 100
604. Section of Narthex at Vezelay 101
605. East End, St. Menoux 102
606. Chevet, St. Menoux 103
607. Plan and Section of Basse Œuvre, Beauvais 105
608. External and Internal View of Basse Œuvre 106
609. Decoration of St. Généreux 107
610. Section of Eastern portion of Church of Montier-en-Der 108
611. Triapsal Church at Querqueville 110
612. Plan of the Church of St. Stephen, Caen 112
613. Western Façade of same 113
614. Section of Nave of same 114
615. Diagram of Vaulting of same 115
616. Elevation of Compartment of Nave of St. Stephen, Caen 115
617. Compartment, Abbaye-aux-Dames, Caen 116
618. East End of St. Nicolas, Caen 117
619. Lower Compartment, Nave, Bayeux 118
620. Plan of Cathedral of Notre Dame, Paris 132
621. Section of Side-aisles, of same 133
622. External Elevation of same 133
623. Plan of Chartres Cathedral 134
624. Plan of Rheims Cathedral 135
625. Plan of Amiens Cathedral 135
626. View of the Façade of the Cathedral at Paris 136
627. North-west View of the Cathedral at Chartres 138
628. Buttress at Chartres 139
629. Buttresses at Rheims 139
630. Bay of Nave of Beauvais Cathedral 142
631. Doorway, South Transept, Beauvais 143
632. Plan of Cathedral at Noyon 144
633. Spires of Laon Cathedral 145
634. View of Cathedral at Coutances 146
635. Lady Chapel, Auxerre 147
636. Plan of Cathedral at Troyes 148
637. Façade of Cathedral at Troyes 149
638. Window of Cathedral at Lyons 150
639. Plan of Cathedral at Bazas 150
640. Plan of Cathedral at Bourges 151
641. Section of Cathedral at Bourges 152
642. View in the Church of Charité sur Loire 154
643. Chevet, Pontigny 155
644. West Front of Ste. Marie de l’Épine 156
645. Plan of Church of St. Ouen at Rouen 157
646. Church of St. Ouen from the S.E. 158
647. Southern Porch of same 159
648. Diagram of plans of Pillars 162
649. Window, St. Martin, Paris 163
650. Window in Nave of Cathedral at Chartres 163
651. Window in Choir of Cathedral at Chartres 163
652. Window at Rheims 164
653. Window at St. Ouen 164
654. Window at Chartres 165
655. West Window, Chartres 166
656. Transept Window, Chartres 166
657. West Window, Rheims 166
658. West Window, Evreux 166
659. West Window, St. Ouen 167
660. Diagram of Vaulting 169
661. Abbey Church, Souvigny 170
662. Diagram of Buttresses 172
663. Flying Buttresses of St. Ouen 172
664. Flying Buttress at Amiens 173
665. St. Pierre, Caen 176
666. Lantern, St. Ouen, Rouen 177
667. Corbel 178
668. Capitals from Rheims 178
669. Rood-Screen from the Madeleine at Troyes 181
670. Hôtel de Ville of St. Antonin 182
671. House at Cluny 183
672. House at Yrieix 184
673. Portal of the Ducal Palace at Nancy 185
674. View of West End of Church at Nivelles 190
675. Plan of Cathedral at Tournay 191
676. Section of Central Portion of same, looking South 192
677. West Front of Notre Dame de Maestricht 192
678. Spire of the Chapel of St. Sang, Bruges 193
679. Window in Church at Villers, near Genappe 193
680. Plan of the Cathedral at Antwerp 195
681. Plan of St. Jacques, Liège 197
682. Belfry at Ghent 200
683. Cloth-hall at Ypres 201
684. Town-hall, Brussels 203
685. Part of the Bishop’s Palace, Liège 205
686. Reduction of an original plan of a Monastery at St.
Gall 215
687. Plan of Church at Mittelzell, in the island of
Reichenau 217
688. Elevation of West End of same 217
689. Plan of the Church of Romain-Motier 218
690. View of same 218
691. Section of Church at Granson 219
692. Plan of Church at Gernrode 220
693. View of West End of Church at Gernrode 220
694. View of West End of Abbey of Corvey 221
695. Plan of original Church at Trèves 223
696. Plan of Mediæval Church at Trèves 223
697. Western Apse of Church at Trèves 224
698. Eastern Apse of Church at Trèves 224
699. Internal View of the Church of St. Michael at
Hildesheim 225
700. Plan of same 225
701. Plan of Cathedral of Worms 227
702. One Bay of Cathedral at Worms 227
703. Side Elevation of same 228
704. Plan of the Cathedral at Spires 229
705. Western Apse of Cathedral at Mayence 230
706. Church at Minden. Cathedral at Paderborn. Church at
Soest 231
707. Plan of Sta. Maria in Capitolio, Cologne 232
708. Apse of the Apostles’ Church at Cologne 233
709. Apse of St. Martin’s Church at Cologne 234
710. East End of Church at Bonn 235
711. Plan of Church at Laach 236
712. View of Church at Laach 236
713. Church at Sinzig 237
714. Rood Screen at Wechselburg 238
715. Crypt at Göllingen 238
716. Façade of Church at Rosheim 239
717. Church at Marmoutier 240
718. Section of Church of Schwartz Rheindorf 241
719. View of same 242
720. Plan of Chapel at Landsberg 243
721. Section of Chapel at Landsberg 243
722. View and Plan of the Cathedral at Zurich 243
723. Doorway at Basle 244
724. Plan of Church at Aix-la-Chapelle 248
725. Church at Nymwegen 249
725a. Plan of Church at Mettlach 249
725b. Capital of Triforium of same 250
726. Church at Petersberg 251
727. Plan of Church at Fulda 251
728. Plan of Church at Drüggelte 251
729. Baptistery at Bonn 252
730. Chapel at Cobern on the Moselle 253
731. Porch of Convent at Lorsch 255
732. Arcade of the Palace at Gelnhausen 257
733. Capital, Gelnhausen 257
734. View of the Palace on the Wartburg 258
735. Cloister at Zurich 266
736. Dwelling-house, Cologne 261
737. Windows in back of same 262
738. Windows from Sion Church, Cologne 262
739. Windows from St. Quirinus at Neuss 262
740. Section of St. Gereon, Cologne 265
741. Plan of St. Gereon, Cologne 265
742. East End of Church at Gelnhausen 266
743. Plan of Church at Marburg 267
744. Section of Church at Marburg 267
745. Plan of Church at Altenberg 268
746. Plan of Cathedral at Cologne 269
747. Western Façade of Cathedral of Cologne 272
748. View of Church at Freiburg 274
749. Plan of Strasburg Cathedral 276
750. West Front of same 277
751. Plan of Ratisbon Cathedral 280
752. View of the Spire of St. Stephen’s, Vienna 281
753. Plan of the Franciscan Church at Salzburg 283
754. Plan of St. Lawrence’s Church, Nuremberg 284
755. Plan of Church at Kuttenberg, taken above the roof of
the aisles 284
756. Section of the Church of same 285
757. Plan of Church of St. Victor at Xanten 287
758. View of Marien Kirche, Mühlhausen 289
759. Plan of Marien Kirche, Mühlhausen 289
760. St. Severus Church at Erfurt 290
761. Anna Chapel at Heiligenstadt 292
762. Sacraments Häuschen, Nuremberg 293
763. Doorway of Church at Chemnitz 294
764. Schöne Brunnen at Nuremberg 296
765. Todtenleuchter, Vienna 297
766. Bay Window from St. Sebald’s Parsonage, Nuremberg 298
767. Façade of House at Brück-am-Mur 299
768. Town-hall at Brunswick 300
769. Plan of Cathedral, Lubeck 303
770. Plan of Marien Kirche, Lubeck 304
771. View of same 305
772. Tower in the Kœblinger Strasse, Hanover 306
773. Church at Frauenburg 307
774. Church at Santoppen 308
775. Façade of Marien Kirche, Brandenburg 309
776. Façade of the Knight-hall in the Castle of Marienburg 310
777. Plan of Upsala Cathedral 314
778. Apse of Lund Cathedral 315
779. Old Country Church and Belfry 316
780. Plan of Cathedral of Trondhjem 317
781. View of Cathedral of Trondhjem 318
782. Elevation of Domkirche: Roeskilde 319
783. Plan of same 319
784. Frue Kirche, Aarhuus 319
785. Church of Kallundborg 320
786. Helge-Anders Church, Wisby 322
787. Interior of Church at Gothem 323
788. Folö Church, Gothland 324
789. Portal, Sandeo Church, Gothland 325
790. Portal, Hoäte Church, Gothland 326
791. View of Round Church, Thorsager, Jutland 327
792. Section and Ground-plan of same 328
793. Round Church of Oester Larsker, Bornholm 329
794. View and plan of Hagby Church, Sweden 330
795. Läderbro Church and Wapenhus, Gothland 331
796. Plan of Church at Hitterdal 332
797. View of Church at Hitterdal 333
798. Church of Urnes, Norway 334
799. Tower of Earl’s Barton Church 341
800. Windows, Earl’s Barton 342
801. Saxon Doorway at Monkwearmouth 343
802. Plan of Norwich Cathedral 346
803. Plan of Canterbury Cathedral 347
804. Plan of Durham Cathedral 348
805. Plan of Salisbury Cathedral 349
806. Plan of Winchester Cathedral 350
807. Plan of Ely Cathedral 351
808. Octagon at Ely Cathedral 352
809. Plan of Westminster Abbey 354
810. Nave of Peterborough Cathedral 357
811. Nave of Lincoln Cathedral 359
812. Nave of Lichfield Cathedral 360
813. Choir of Gloucester Cathedral 361
814. Diagrams of Vaulting 362
815. Vault of Cloister, Gloucester 363
816. Vault of Aisle at St. George’s, Windsor 364
817. Aisle in Henry VII.’s Chapel, Westminster 364
818. Retro-choir, Peterborough Cathedral 365
819. Choir Arches of Oxford Cathedral 366
820. Transformation of the Nave, Winchester Cathedral 368
821. Choir of Ely Cathedral 369
822. Two Bays of the Nave of Westminster Abbey 370
823. One Bay of Cathedral at Exeter 370
824. The Five Sisters Window, York 372
825. Ely Cathedral, East End 373
826. Lancet Window, Hereford Cathedral 374
827. East End of Lincoln Cathedral 375
828. North Transept Window, Lincoln 376
829. Window in Chapter-house at York, English Geometric
Tracery 377
830. Window in St. Anselm’s Chapel, Canterbury 377
831. East Window of Carlisle Cathedral 378
832. South Transept Window, Lincoln 378
833. Perpendicular Tracery, Winchester Cathedral 379
834. Salisbury Cathedral, from the N.E. 381
835. View of Lichfield Cathedral 382
836. Lincoln Cathedral 383
837. View of the Angel Tower and Chapter-house, Canterbury 384
838. West Front of Peterborough Cathedral 385
839. Chapter-house, Bristol 389
840. Chapter-house, Salisbury 390
841. Chapter-house, Wells 391
842. Chapter-house, York 392
843. Internal Elevation of St. Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster 394
844. Plan of Ste. Chapelle, Paris 395
845. Plan of St. Stephen’s. Westminster 395
846. Interior View of King’s College Chapel, Cambridge 396
847. Plan of Circular Church at Little Maplestead 398
848. Spire of Great Leighs Church, Essex 398
849. Tower of Little Saxham Church, Suffolk 398
850. Roof at Trunch Church 400
851. Roof of Aisle in New Walsingham Church 400
852. Plan of Church of Walpole St. Peter’s, Norfolk 401
853. Staircase at Canterbury Cathedral 402
854. Norman Gateway, College Green, Bristol 403
855. Capitals, &c., of Doorway leading to the Choir Aisles,
Lincoln 404
856. West Doorway, Lichfield Cathedral 405
857. Tomb of Bishop Marshall, Exeter Cathedral 405
858. The Triple Canopy in Heckington Church, Lincolnshire 406
859. Prior d’Estria’s Screen, Canterbury Cathedral 406
860. Doorway of Chapter-house, Rochester Cathedral 407
861. Tomb of the Black Prince, Canterbury Cathedral 408
862. Tomb of Edward III. in Westminster Abbey 409
863. Tomb of Edward II. in Gloucester Cathedral 410
864. Tomb of Bishop Redman in Ely Cathedral 411
865. Waltham Cross (restored) 412
866. Plan of Westminster Hall 414
867. Section of Westminster Hall 414
868. Hall of Palace at Eltham 415
869. Window, Leuchars 420
870. Pier-Arch, Jedburgh 421
871. Arches in Kelso Abbey 422
872. Plan and three Bays of Choir, Kirkwall Cathedral 423
873. North Side of the Cathedral at Kirkwall 424
874. 1. Plan of Glasgow Cathedral. 2. Plan of Crypt, Glasgow
Cathedral 425
875. View in Crypt of Glasgow Cathedral 426
876. Crypt of Cathedral at Glasgow 427
877. Clerestory Window, Glasgow Cathedral 427
878. East End of Glasgow Cathedral 428
879. East End, Elgin Cathedral 429
880. South Transept, Elgin Cathedral 430
881. Ornament of Doorway of same 430
882. Plan of Elgin Cathedral 431
883. Aisle in Melrose Abbey 432
884. East Window, Melrose 433
885. Chapel at Roslyn 434
886. Under Chapel, Roslyn 434
887. Stone Roof of Bothwell Church 435
888. Exterior of Roof of Bothwell Church 435
889, 890. Ornamental Arcades, from Holyrood 436
891. Interior of Porch, Dunfermline 437
892. Window at Dunkeld 438
893. Doorway, Linlithgow 439
894. Doorway, St. Giles’s, Edinburgh 440
895. Doorway, Pluscardine Abbey 441
896. Window in Tower, Iona 441
897. Aisle in Trinity College Church, Edinburgh 442
898. Cloister, Kilconnel Abbey 445
899. Oratory, Innisfallen, Killarney 447
900. Cormac’s Chapel, Cashel 448
901. Section of Chapel, Killaloe 448
902. St. Kevin’s Kitchen, Glendalough 449
903. Doorway in Tower at Um Rasas 451
904. Round Tower and Chancel Arch of Fineens Church,
Clonmacnoise 452
905. Doorway in Tower, Kildare 452
906. Doorway in Tower, Donoughmore, Meath 453
907. Doorway in Tower, Antrim 453
908. Tower, Devenish 453
909. Tower, Kilree, Kilkenny 453
910. Tower, Kinneth, Cork 454
911. Tower, Ardmore 454
912. Floor in Tower, Kinneth 455
913. Doorway, Monasterboice 455
914. Doorway, Kilcullen, Kildare 455
915. Windows in Round Towers 455
916. Window, Glendalough 455
917. Oratory of Gallerus 457
918. Tower, Jerpoint Abbey 457
919. House, Galway 458
920. Ballyromney Court, Cork 458
921. Cross at Kells 459
922. View of Church at Naranco 465
923. Plan of Church at Naranco 465
924. Plan of S. Pablo 466
925. Detail of S. Pablo 466
926. Church at Roda 466
927. Panteon of St. Isidoro, Leon 467
928. Plan of Santiago di Compostella 468
929. Santiago Cathedral. Interior of South Transept, looking
North-East 469
930. Interior of S. Isidoro, Leon 470
931. Cathedral at Zamora 471
932. Collegiate Church at Toro 472
933. Lérida Old Cathedral. Door of South Porch 473
934. San Vincente, Avila. Interior of Western Porch 474
935. Exterior of Lantern, Salamanca Old Cathedral 475
936. Section of Cimborio at Salamanca 476
937. Plan of St. Milan, Segovia 476
938. Tarragona Cathedral. View across Transepts 477
939. Church of the Templars at Segovia 478
940. Plan of Cathedral at Toledo 479
941. View in the Choir of the Cathedral at Toledo 480
942. Plan of Burgos Cathedral 481
943. West Front of Burgos Cathedral 482
944. Plan of Leon Cathedral 483
945. Bay of Choir, Leon Cathedral 484
946. Compartment of Nave, Burgos Cathedral 484
947. Plan of Cathedral at Barcelona 485
948. Sta. Maria del Mar, Barcelona 486
949. Sta. Maria del Pi, Barcelona 486
950. Interior of Collegiate Church, Manresa 487
951. Plan of Cathedral at Gerona 488
952. Interior of Cathedral at Gerona, looking East 489
953. Cimborio of Cathedral at Valencia 490
954. Plan of Cathedral at Seville 491
955. Plan of Cathedral at Segovia 493
956. Section of Church at Villena 493
957. Plan of Sta. Maria la Bianca 495
958. Interior of Sta. Maria la Bianca 496
959. Apse of St. Bartolomeo 497
960. Chapel at Humanejos 498
961. Tower at Ilescas 499
962. St. Paul, Saragoza 500
963. Doorway from Valencia 501
964. Cloister of the Huelgas, near Burgos 502
965. Cloister, Tarazona 503
966. The Casa Lonja, Valencia 504
967. Castle of Cocos, Castille 505
968. Plan of the Church at Batalha 508
969. Portal at Belem 510
970. Plan of the Mosque el-Aksah at Jerusalem 517
971. View in the Mosque el-Aksah 518
972. Plan of the Dome of the Rock (Mosque of Omar) 520
973. View in Aisle of same 521
974. Capital in Dome of the Rock 521
975. Order of the Dome of the Rock 522
976. Plan of Mosque at Damascus 523
977. Plan of Mosque of Amru, Old Cairo 526
978. Arches in the Mosque of Amru 527
979. Mosque of Ibn Tooloon at Cairo 528
980. Window in Mosque of same 529
981. Plan of Mosque of Sultan Hassan, Cairo 531
982. Section of same 532
983. Plan of Mosque and Tombs of Sultan Berkook, Cairo 533
984. Section of Mosque of Berkook 533
985. Mosque of Kaitbey 535
986. Plan of Great Mosque at Mecca 537
987. Plan of Great Mosque of Kerouan 538
988. Main Entrance in Court of same 539
989. Minaret at Tunis 540
990. Plan of Mosque of Cordoba 544
991. Interior of Sanctuary at Cordoba 545
992. Exterior of the Sanctuary, Cordoba 546
993. Screen of the Chapel of Villa Viciosa, Mosque of
Cordoba 547
994. Church of San Cristo de la Luz, Toledo 548
995. The Giralda at Seville 550
996. Plan of the Alhambra, Granada 552
997. Plan of Suleimanie Mosque 559
998. Section of Suleimanie Mosque 560
999. View of Suleimanie Mosque 561
1000. Plan of Ahmedjie Mosque 563
1001. Plan of Tomb of Zobeidé, Bagdad 568
1002. View of Tomb of Zobeidé 568
1003. Tomb of Ezekiel, near Bagdad 569
1004. Imaret of Oulou Diami at Erzeroum 570
1005. Plan of Mosque of Tabreez 572
1006. View of Ruined Mosque at Tabreez 573
1007. Tomb of Sultan Khodabendah at Sultanieh 574
1008. Section of the Tomb at Sultanieh 574
1009. View of the Tomb at Sultanieh 575
1010. Plan of Great Mosque at Ispahan 576
1011. Madrissa of Sultan Husein at Ispahan 578
1012. Throne-room at Teheran 579
1013. Palace at Ispahan 580
1014. Pavilion in the Khan’s Palace at Khiva 581
1015. Pyramid of Oajaca, Tehuantepec 590
1016. Plan of the Temple at Mitla 591
1017. View of the Palace at Mitla 592
1018. Elevation of Teocalli at Palenque 594
1019. Plan of Temple 594
1020. Elevation of Building at Chunjuju 596
1021. Elevation of part of Palace at Zayi 596
1022. Plan of Palace at Zayi 597
1023. Casa de las Monjas, Uxmal 597
1024. Interior of a Chamber, Uxmal 598
1025. Apartment at Chichen Itza 599
1026. Diagram of Mexican construction 599
1027. Ruined Gateway at Tia Huanacu 601
1028. Gateway at Tia Huanacu 602
1029. Tombs at Sillustani 603
1030. Ruins of House of Manco Capac in Cuzco 604
1031. House of the Virgins of the Sun 605
1032. Peruvian Tombs 606
1033. Elevation of Wall of Tambos 606
1034. Sketch Plans of the Walls of Cuzco 607
1035. View of Walls of Cuzco 607
FRONTISPIECE TO PART II.
(Continued.)
[Illustration:
VIEW OF COLOGNE CATHEDRAL.
(From Rosengarten.)
]
HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE.
PART II.—CHRISTIAN ARCHITECTURE.
_Continued._
BOOK II.
ITALY.—_Continued._
CHAPTER VII.
CONTENTS.
Circular churches—Towers at Prato and Florence—Porches—Civic buildings—
Town-halls—Venice—Doge’s palace—Cà d’Oro—Conclusion.
CIRCULAR BUILDINGS.
THERE are very few specimens in Italy of circular or polygonal buildings
of any class belonging to the Gothic age. As churches, none are to be
expected. Baptisteries had passed out of fashion. One such building, at
Parma, commenced in 1196, deserves to be quoted, not certainly for its
beauty, but as illustrating those false principles of design shown in
every part of every building of this age in Italy. Externally the
building is an octagon, six storeys in height, the four upper ones being
merely used to conceal a dome, which is covered by a low-pitched wooden
roof. The lowest and the highest storeys are solid, the others are
galleries supported by little ill-shaped columns. It is probable that
this was not the original design of the architect, Antelami. No doubt he
intended to conceal the dome, or at all events to cover it, as was the
universal practice in Italy; but instead of a mere perpendicular wall,
as here used, the external outline should have assumed a conical form,
which might have rendered it as pleasing as it is now awkward. We have
no instance of a circular building carried out by Italian architects
according to their own principles sufficiently far to enable us to judge
what they were capable of in this style, unless perhaps it be the tombs
of the Scaligers at Verona. These take the circular or polygonal form
appropriate to tombs, but are on so small a scale that they might rather
be called crosses than mausolea; and though illustrating all the best
principles of Italian design, and evincing an exuberance of exquisite
ornament, they can hardly be regarded as important objects of high art.
It is only from small buildings like these that we may recover the
principles of this art as practised in Italy. Not being, like the
Northern styles, a progressive national effort, but generally an
individual exertion, if the first architect died during the progress of
a larger building, no one knew exactly how he had intended to finish it,
and its completion was entrusted to the caprice and fancy of some other
man, which he generally indulged, wholly regardless of its incongruity
with the work of his predecessor.
[Illustration: 513. Baptistery, Parma. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]
[Illustration: 514. Baptistery at Parma, half Section, half Elevation.
Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.]
TOWERS.
The Italians in the age of pointed architecture were hardly more
successful in their towers than in their other buildings, except that a
tower, from its height, must always be a striking object, and, if both
massive and high, cannot fail to have a certain imposing appearance, of
which no clumsiness on the part of the architect can deprive it. Such
towers as the Asinelli and Garisenda at Bologna possess no more
architectural merit than the chimneys of our factories. Most of those
subsequently erected were better than these, but still the Italians
never caught the true idea of a spire.
Throughout the whole of the Middle Ages they retained their affection
for the original rectangular form, making their towers as broad at the
summit as at the base. With very few exceptions, they are without
buttresses, or any projection on the angles, to aid in giving them even
an appearance of support. In consequence, when a spire was placed on
such an edifice it always fitted awkwardly. The art by which a tower was
prepared for its termination, first by the graduated buttresses at its
base, then by the strongly marked vertical lines of its upper portion,
and above all by the circle of spirelets at the top, out of which the
central spire shot up as an absolute necessity of the composition—this
art, so dear and so familiar to the Northern builders, was never
understood by the Italians. If they, on the contrary, placed an octagon
on their square towers, it looked like an accident for which nothing was
prepared, and the spire was separated from it only by bold horizontal
cornices, instead of by vertical lines, as true taste dictated.
[Illustration: 515. View of the Duomo at Prato. (From Wiebeking.)]
In fact, the Italians seem to have benefited less by the experience or
instruction of their Northern neighbours in tower-building than in any
other feature of the style, and to have retained their old forms in
these after they had abandoned them in other parts of their churches.
The typical tower of its class is the Torracio of Cremona. It is a
monumental tower commenced in 1296 to commemorate a peace made between
Cremona and the neighbouring states after a long and tedious contest for
supremacy. It is not an ecclesiastical edifice, but partakes, therefore,
like those of St. Mark, Venice, and of Modena, more of the character of
a civic belfry than of a church tower, such as those previously
mentioned. It is the highest and largest, and consequently, according to
the usual acceptation of the term the finest, of Italian towers. Its
whole height is 396 ft., about two-thirds of which is a square ungainly
mass, without either design or ornament of any importance. On this is
placed an octagon and spire, which, though in themselves perhaps the
best specimens of their class in Italy, have too little connection
either in design or dimensions with the tower on which they stand.
[Illustration: 516. Torracio at Cremona. (From Gally Knight.)]
The celebrated tower of the Ghirlandina at Modena is, perhaps, one of
the best to enable us to compare these Italian towers with the
Cis-Alpine ones, since it possesses a well-proportioned spire, which is
found in few of the others. From its date it belongs to the second
division of the subject, having been commenced in the 13th and finished
in the 14th century; but, as before remarked, there is no line of
distinction between the round-arched and pointed-arched styles in Italy,
and though this campanile seems to be wholly without any pointed forms,
we may describe it here.
[Illustration: 517. Campanile, Palazzo Scaligeri, Verona. (From
Street.)]
Its whole height is about 315 ft., of which less than 200 are taken up
in the square part—which thus bears a less predominant proportion to the
spire than any other Italian example. It is evidently meant to rival the
famous German spires which had become such favourites in the age in
which it was built; and although it avoids many of the errors into which
the excessive love of decoration and of _tours de force_ led the
Germans, still the result is far from satisfactory. The change from the
square to the octagon is abrupt and unpleasing, and the spire itself
looks too thick for the octagon. Everywhere there is a want of those
buttresses and pinnacles with which the Gothic architects knew so well
how to prepare for a transition of form, and to satisfy the mind that
the composition was not only artistically but mechanically correct. The
Italians never comprehended the aspiring principle of the Gothic styles,
and consequently, though they had far more elegance of taste and used
better details, their works hardly satisfy the mind to a greater extent
than a modern classical church or museum.
The same remarks apply to the towers of Siena, Lucca, Pistoja, and
indeed to all in the North of Italy: all have some pleasing points, but
none are entirely satisfactory. None have sufficient ornament, or
display enough design, to render them satisfactory in detail, nor have
they sufficient mass to enable them to dispense with the evidence of
thought, and to impress by the simple grandeur of their dimensions.
[Illustration: 518. Campanile, S. Andrea, Mantua. (From Street.)]
The towers of Asti (1266) and Siena (rebuilt in 1389) are illustrated in
Woodcuts Nos. 493 and 498. They certainly display but little art. A more
pleasing specimen is the tower (Woodcut No. 515) attached to the Duomo
at Prato (about 1312), which may be considered as a specimen of the very
best class of Italian tower-design of the age, although in fact its only
merit consists in the increase in the size of the openings in every
storey upwards, so as to give a certain degree of lightness to the upper
part. On this side of the Alps the same effect was generally attained by
diminishing the diameter. When a spire is to be added, that is the only
admissible mode; but when the building is to be crowned by a cornice, as
at Prato, the mode there adopted is perhaps preferable.
The tower which is attached to the palace of the Scaligeri at Verona
(Woodcut No. 517) is perhaps as graceful as any other, and as
characteristic of the Italian principles of tower-building. The lower
part is absolutely plain and solid, the upper storey alone being pierced
with one splendid three-light window in each face, with a boldly
projecting cornice over it marking the roof. On this is placed an
octagonal lantern two storeys in height. Had the lower portion of the
lantern been broken by turrets or pinnacles at the angles, the effect
would have been greatly improved. As it is, it seems only a makeshift to
eke out the height of the whole; though the octagon with its boldly
projecting cornice is as graceful as anything of the kind in Italian
architecture.
The campanile attached to the church of St. Andrea at Mantua (Woodcut
No. 518) is more nearly Gothic both in design and details. Its vertical
lines are strongly marked, and the string-courses and cornices are of
moulded brickwork, which is a pleasing and characteristic feature in the
architecture of Lombardy.
The worst part of this design is the smallness of the octagon and spire,
and the unconnected mode in which they are placed on the roof of the
tower.
The typical example of the Italian towers is that erected close to the
Duomo at Florence from designs by Giotto, commenced in 1324, and
considerably advanced, if not nearly finished, at the time of his death,
two years afterwards.
[Illustration: 519. Campanile at Florence. (From Gailhabaud.) Scale 50
ft. to 1 in.]
Though hardly worthy of the praise which has been lavished on it, it is
certainly a very beautiful building. Being covered with ornament from
the base to the summit, it has not that nakedness which is the reproach
of so many others, and the octagonal projections at the angles give it
considerable relief. Besides this, the openings are very pleasingly
graduated. It is virtually solid for about one-third of its height. The
middle division consists of two storeys, each with two windows, while
the upper part is lighted by one bold opening on each face, as at Prato.
All this is good. One great defect of the composition is its
parallelism. The slightest expansion of the base would have given it
great apparent stability, which its height requires. Another fault is
its being divided by too strongly marked horizontal courses into
distinct storeys, instead of one division falling by imperceptible
degrees into the other, as in the Northern towers. It has yet another
defect in common with the Duomo, to which it belongs, namely, the false
character of its ornamentation, which chiefly consists of a veneer of
party-coloured slabs of marble,—beautiful in itself, but objectionable
as not forming a part of the apparent construction.
The tower now rises to a height of 269 ft., and it was intended to have
added a spire of about 90 ft. to this; but unless it had been more
gracefully managed than is usual in Italy, the tower is certainly better
without it. There is nothing to suggest a spire in the part already
executed, nor have we any reason to believe that Giotto understood the
true principles of spire-building better than his contemporaries.
PORCHES.
Another feature very characteristic of the Gothic style in Italy is to
be found in the porches attached to the churches. Generally they are
placed on the flanks, and form side-entrances, and in most instances
they were added after the completion of the body of the building, and
consequently seldom accord in style with it. One has already been
illustrated as attached to the church at Asti (Woodcut No. 493); another
(Woodcut No. 501), belonging to the church of Sta. Maria dei Fiori at
Florence, is an integral and beautiful part of the design.
One of the most characteristic specimens of the class in all Italy is
that attached to the northern flank of the church of Sta. Maria Maggiore
at Bergamo (Woodcut No. 520). The principal archway and the doorway
within it are circular in form, although built in the middle of the 14th
century, and are ornamented with trefoils and other details of the age.
Above this are three trefoiled arches, the central one containing an
equestrian statue of a certain Duke Lupus, at whose expense the porch
was probably built, and above these is a little pagoda-like pavilion
containing statues of the Virgin and Child.
The whole design is so unconstructive that it depends more on the iron
ties that are everywhere inserted to hold it together than on any system
of thrusts or counterpoises, which a true Gothic architect would
certainly have supplied.
[Illustration: 520. North Porch, Sta. Maria Maggiore, Bergamo. (From
Street’s ‘Brick and Marble of the Middle Ages.’)]
The two main pillars rest on lions, as is universally the case in these
porches throughout Italy, though rarely found elsewhere.
Like most of these Italian porches, this one will not stand criticism as
a purely architectural object; but its details are so beautiful and its
colours so fascinating that it pleases in spite of all its defects of
design, and is more characteristic of the truly native feeling shown in
the treatment of the pointed style of architecture than the more
ambitious examples which were erected under direct foreign influence.
CIVIC BUILDINGS.
The free towns of Italy required civic buildings almost to the same
extent as the contemporary cities in Belgium, though not quite of the
same class. Their commerce, for instance, did not require trade halls,
but no town was without its town-hall, or _palazzo pubblico_, and
belfry. The intrinsic difficulty of the designing of buildings of this
class, as compared with churches, has already been pointed out. It
cannot therefore be expected that the Italians, who failed in the easier
task, should have succeeded in the harder. The town-hall at Siena is
perhaps the best existing example, most of the others having been so
altered that it is difficult to judge of their original effect. This
must be pronounced to be a very poor architectural performance, flat and
unmeaning, and without any lines or style of ornament to group the
windows together into one composition, so that they are mere scattered
openings in the wall.
That at Perugia seems originally to have been better, though now greatly
disfigured. At Florence the Palazzo Vecchio is more of a feudal
fortalice (required, it must be confessed, to keep the turbulent
citizens in order) than the municipal palace of a peaceful community. In
Ferrara and other cities the _palazzo pubblico_ is really and virtually
a fortress and nothing else.
At Piacenza it consists of a range of bold pointed stone arches,
supporting an upper storey of brick, adorned with a range of
circular-headed windows, richly ornamented, and a pleasing specimen of
the mode in which the Italians avoided the difficulty of filling the
upper parts of their windows with tracery (which they never liked) and
at the same time rendered them ornamental externally.
At Padua and Vicenza are two great halls supported on arcades, in
intention like that of Piacenza, but far from possessing its beauty.
That at Padua remains in all its pristine ugliness, as hideous an
erection as any perpetrated in the Middle Ages. The hall is one of the
largest in Europe, measuring 240 ft. in length by 84 in width
(Westminster Hall is 238×67), but wholly without ornament or beauty of
proportion. Externally the arcades that are stuck to its sides do not
relieve its mass, and are not beautiful in themselves. That at Vicenza,
though originally very similar, has been fortunate in having its outside
clothed in one of Palladio’s most successful designs,—perhaps the only
instance in which an addition of that age and style has improved a
building of the Gothic period. Comparing this hall as it stands with
that at Padua, it must be admitted that the Italians were perfectly
correct in abandoning _their_ Gothic for the revived classical style,
the improvement being apparent on the most cursory inspection.
[Illustration: 521. Palace of the Jurisconsults at Cremona. (From
Street.)]
A number of the town-halls or Brolettos in the smaller towns still
remain unaltered, or nearly so, and retain all the peculiarities of
their original design. The Palace of the Jurisconsults at Cremona for
instance (Woodcut No. 521) only requires its lower arcades to be again
opened to present all its original features, which resemble in almost
every respect those of the palazzo at Piacenza above mentioned, except
that the latter has five arches below and six windows above, instead of
two and three as here shown. This building is wholly of brick, like most
other civic buildings in the North of Italy. Sometimes, as at Piacenza,
they are of stone below and brick in the upper storeys. Sometimes,
though rarely, they are entirely faced with party-coloured marbles like
the Broletto at Como (Woodcut No. 522), which, though not extensive, is
a very beautiful specimen of the best form of civic architecture of the
best age in the North of Italy, and standing as it does between the
cathedral on the one hand and its own rude old belfry on the other,
makes up an extremely pleasing group.[1]
[Illustration: 522. Broletto at Como. (From Street.)]
One of the most important buildings of this style is the Great Hospital,
Milan. It was founded in the year 1456, and consequently belongs to an
age when the style was dying out. It still retains more of the pointed
style and of Gothic feeling than could have been found in any city
farther south, or in any one less impregnated, as it were, with German
blood and feeling.
[Illustration: 523. Ornamental Brickwork from the Broletto at Brescia.
(From Street.)]
Almost all the windows in the part originally erected are pointed in
form and divided by mullions. Their principal ornament consists of
garlands of flowers interspersed with busts and masks and figures of
Cupids, which surround the windows, or run along the string-courses. The
whole of these are in terra-cotta, and make up a style of ornamentation
as original as it is beautiful. It is besides purely local, and far
superior to the best copies of Northern details, or to the misapplied
forms of Gothic architecture which are so common in Italy.
There is perhaps nothing in the North of Italy so worthy of admiration
and study, as the way in which moulded bricks of various kinds are used
for decoration, especially in the civic buildings, and also occasionally
in the churches. Sublimity is not perhaps to be attained in brickwork;
the parts are too small; and if splendour is aimed at, it may require
some larger and more costly material to produce the desired effect; but
there is no beauty of detail or of design on a small scale that may not
be obtained by the use of moulded bricks, which are in themselves far
more durable, and, if carefully burnt, retain their sharpness of outline
longer, than most kinds of stone.
The most common way in which the Italians used this material was by
repeating around their openings or along their cornices small copies of
Gothic details, as in this example from a circular window in the
Broletto at Brescia (Woodcut No. 523). Where the details are small and
designed with taste, the effect is almost equal to stone; but where the
details are themselves on a large scale, as is sometimes the case, the
smallness of the materials becomes apparent. Even in this example the
semi-quatrefoils of the principal band are too large for the other
details, though not sufficiently so to be offensive.
[Illustration: 524. Window from the Cathedral of Monza. (From Street.)]
Though not so rich, the effect is almost equally pleasing where the
brick is merely moulded on its edge, without any very direct repetition
of Gothic details, as in the upper part of the window shown in Woodcut
No. 524, from the cathedral of Monza. Where great depth is given so as
to obtain shadow, and long tiles are used for the upper arch, as was
done by the Romans, an appearance of strength and solidity is given to
the construction unsurpassed by that obtained in any other material.
Perhaps the most pleasing application of terra-cotta ornaments is where
bricks of different colours are used so as to produce by variety of
pattern that relief which cannot so well be given by depth of shadow—a
perfectly legitimate mode of ornament when so small a material is used,
and when beauty only, not sublimity, is aimed at.
This is sometimes produced in Italy by introducing stone of a different
colour among the bricks, as in the two examples from Verona (Woodcuts
Nos. 525, 526); and where this mode of ornamentation is carried
throughout the building, the effect is very pleasing. It is difficult,
however, so to proportion the two materials as to produce exactly the
effect aimed at, and seldom that the objection does not present itself
of too much or too little stone being used. The want of shadow in brick
architecture is most felt in the cornices, where sufficient projection
cannot be obtained. The defect might be easily and legitimately got over
by the employment of stone in the upper members of the cornice, but this
expedient seems never to have been resorted to.
[Illustration: 525. Windows from Verona. (From Street.) 526.]
There are few of these brick buildings of the North of Italy which are
not open to just criticism for defects of design or detail, but this may
arise from the circumstance that they all belong to an age when the
Italians were using a style which was not their own, and employing
ornaments of which they understood neither the origin nor the
application. The defects certainly do not appear to be at all inherent
in the material, and, judging from the experience of the Italians, were
we to make the attempt in a proper spirit, we might create with it a
style far surpassing anything we now practise.
VENICE.
The most beautiful specimens of the civil and domestic architecture of
Italy in the Gothic period are probably to be found in Venice, the
richest and most peaceful of Italian cities during the Middle Ages. It
is necessary to speak of the buildings of Venice, or more correctly, of
the Venetian Province, by themselves, since its architecture is quite
distinct both in origin and character from any other found in Northern
Italy. It was not derived from the old Lombard Round Gothic, but from
the richer and more graceful Byzantine. True to its parentage, it
partook in after ages far more of the Southern Saracenic style than of
the Northern Gothic; still it cannot be classed as either Byzantine or
Saracenic, but only as Gothic treated with an Eastern feeling, and
enriched with many details borrowed from Eastern styles.
[Illustration: 527. Central Part of the Façade of the Doge’s Palace,
Venice. (From Cicognara.)]
The largest and most prominent civic example of Venetian Gothic is the
Doge’s Palace (Woodcut No. 527), first built in the commencement of the
9th century, burnt down in 976 and 1106, rebuilt 1116, and restored and
enlarged by Ziani, whose work was gradually pulled down between 1300 and
1424 to make way for the existing Palace (or at least the Gothic portion
of it facing the sea and the Piazzetta). The earliest portion is the
S.E. angle. The S.W. angle was built about 1340, down to the tenth
column (ground storey); the remainder, including the Porta della Carta
(about 1424), was erected by Bartolomeo Bon and his son, the architects
of the Cà d’Oro. Though many people are inclined to consider its general
effect unsatisfactory, an attempt has recently been made to exalt it
above the Parthenon, and all that was great and beautiful in Greece,
Egypt, or Gothic Europe. There are indeed few buildings of which it is
so difficult to judge calmly, situated as it is, attached to the
basilica of St. Mark, facing the beautiful library of Sansovino, and
looking on the one hand into the piazza of St. Mark’s, and on the other
across the water to the churches and palaces that cover the islands. It
is, in fact, the centre of the most beautiful architectural group that
adorns any city of Europe, or of the world—richer than almost any other
building in historical associations, and in a locality hallowed,
especially to an Englishman, by the poetry of Shakespeare. All this
spreads a halo around and over the building, which may furnish ample
excuse for those who blindly praise even its deformities. But the
soberer judgment of the critic must not be led astray by such feelings,
and while giving credit for the picturesque situation of this building
and a certain grandeur in its design, he is compelled wholly to condemn
its execution. The two arcades which constitute the base are, from their
extent and the beauty of their details, as fine as anything of their
class executed during the Middle Ages. There is also a just and pleasing
proportion between the simple solidity of the lower, and the airy—
perhaps slightly fantastic—lightness of the upper of these arcades. Had
what appears to have been the original design been carried out, the
building would rank high with the Alhambra and the palaces of Persia and
India; but in an evil hour, in 1480, it was discovered that larger rooms
were required than had been originally contemplated, and the upper wall,
which was intended to stand on the back wall of the arcades, was brought
forward level with the front overpowering the part below by its
ill-proportioned mass.[2] This upper storey too is far from being
beautiful in itself: the windows in it are not only far too few, but
they are badly spaced, squat, and ungraceful; while the introduction of
smaller windows and circles mars its pretensions to simplicity without
relieving its plainness. Its principal ornaments are two great windows,
one in the centre of each face, which appear to have assumed their
present form after the fire in 1578. These are not graceful objects in
themselves, and having nothing in common with the others, they look too
like insertions to produce an entirely satisfactory effect. The pierced
parapet, too, is poor and flimsy when seen against the sky. Had it
crowned the upper arcade, and been backed by the third storey, it would
have been as pleasing as it is now poor. Had the upper storey been set
back, as was probably originally designed, or had it been placed on the
ground and the arcades over it; had, in short, any arrangement of the
parts been adopted but the one that exists, this might have been a far
more beautiful building than it is. One thing in this palace is worth
remarking before leaving it—that almost all the beauty ascribed to its
upper storey arises from the polychromatic mode of decoration introduced
by disposing pieces of different coloured marbles in diaper patterns.
This is better done here than in Florence; inasmuch as the slabs are
built in, not stuck on. The admiration which it excites is one more
testimony to the fact that when a building is coloured, ninety-nine
people in a hundred are willing to overlook all its faults, and to extol
that as beautiful, which without the adjunct of colour they would have
unanimously agreed in condemning.
[Illustration: 528. Cà d’Oro, Venice. (From Cicognara.)]
A better specimen of the style, because erected as designed, and
remaining nearly as erected, is the Cà d’Oro (Woodcut No. 528),[3] built
in the first years of the 15th century, contemporary with the piazzetta
part of the ducal palace. It has no trace of the high roofs or aspiring
tendencies of the Northern buildings of the same age, no boldly-marked
buttresses in strong vertical lines, but, on the contrary flat sky lines
and horizontal divisions pervade the design, and every part is
ornamented with a fanciful richness far more characteristic of the
luxurious refinement of the East than of the manlier appreciation of the
higher qualities of art which distinguished the contemporary erections
on this side of the Alps.
The blank space between the battlements (which belong to the first
building) and the string-course would seem to have been decorated with a
series of twenty-six cusped arches, forming niches (shown in a mezzotint
drawing dated 1800)[4] and surmounted by an upper string-course
projecting in front of the battlements, thus crowning the building in a
more satisfactory way than at present. The house was built for Signor
Marino Contarini, Procurator of Venice, its original title being the
Palace of Sta. Sophia.
[Illustration: 529. Angle Window at Venice. (From Street.)]
The palaces known as the Foscari and Pisani are very similar in design
to that of Cà d’Oro, though less rich and less happy in the distribution
of the parts; but time has restored to them that colour which was an
inherent part of the older design, and they are so beautiful and so
interesting that it is hard to criticise even their too apparent defects
as works of art. Most of the faults that strike us in the buildings of
Venice arise from the defective knowledge which they betray of
constructive principles. The Venetian architects had not been brought up
in the hard school of practical experience, nor thoroughly grounded in
construction, as the Northern architects were by the necessities of the
large buildings which they erected. On the contrary, they merely adopted
details because they were pretty, and used them so as to be picturesque
in domestic edifices, where convenience was everything, and construction
but a secondary consideration. For instance, the window here shown
(Woodcut No. 529) cannot fail to give the building in which it occurs an
appearance of weakness and insecurity quite inexcusable in spite of its
external picturesqueness or its internal convenience.
[Illustration: 530. Ponte del Paradiso, Venice. (From Street.)]
The same remark applies to the screen (Woodcut No. 530) above the Ponte
del Paradiso, which, though useless and unconstructive to the last
degree, by its picturesque design and elegant details arrests all
travellers. Indeed it is impossible to see it without admiring it,
though, if imitated elsewhere, it could hardly be saved from being
ridiculous.
Both these examples are surrounded by a curious dentil moulding which is
found throughout St. Mark’s, and the origin of which must be sought for
in St. Sophia at Constantinople, though it is better known as the
Venetian dentil.
There are, besides these, many smaller palaces and houses of the Gothic
age, all more or less beautiful, and all presenting some detail or some
happy arrangement well worthy of study, and usually more refined and
more beautiful than those of the rude but picturesque dwellings of the
burghers of Bruges or Nuremberg.
The mixed Gothic style which we have been describing appears to have
exerted a considerable effect on the subsequent palatial architecture of
Venice, even after classical details had become generally fashionable.
The arrangement of the façades remained nearly the same down to a very
late period; and even when the so-called return to classical forms took
place, many details of the previous style were here retained, which was
not the case in any other part of Europe.
Domestic work of similar character to that of Venice is found in some of
the Dalmatian towns, and in the Islands of Quarnero. At Ragusa, in
Dalmatia, is a palace built in 1430, according to Mr. Jackson, from the
designs of Master Onofrio Giordani de la Cava, a Neapolitan, but altered
and rebuilt by Michelozzo in 1464, after the fire and explosion in 1462.
The arcade of the ground storey had originally pointed arches, but in
the rebuilding these were replaced by circular arches, some of the
earlier capitals being utilised in the later structure. Drawings are
given in Mr. Jackson’s work. The courtyards of this palace and of the
Sponza in the same town are interesting examples of domestic work.
CHAPTER VIII.
SICILY.
CONTENTS.
Population of Sicily—The Saracens—Buildings at Palermo—Cathedral of
Monreale Cefalu—The Pointed Arch.
THERE are few chapters of architectural history—at least among the
shorter ones—more interesting, in various ways, than that which treats
of the introduction of the pointed-arched style into Sicily, and its
peculiar development there. The whole history is so easily understood,
the style itself so distinct from any other, and at the same time so
intrinsically beautiful, that it is of all the divisions of the subject
the one best suited for a monograph, and so it seems to have been
considered by many—Hittorff and Zanth,[5] the Duke of Serra di Falco,[6]
and our own Gally Knight,[7] having chosen it for special illustration,
so that in fact there are few European styles of which we have more
complete information. Many of the points of its history are nevertheless
still subjects of controversy, not from any inherent obscurity in the
subject, but because it has been attempted to apply to it the rules and
theories derived from the history of Northern art.
The map of Sicily tells its whole history; its position and form reveal
nearly all that is required to be known of the races that inhabited it,
and of their fate. Situated in the centre of the Mediterranean Sea, of a
nearly regular triangular form, and presenting one side to Greece,
another to Africa, and a third to Italy, the length of these coasts, and
their relative distance from the opposite shores, are nearly correct
indexes of the influence each has had on the civilisation of the island.
In a former chapter[8] it was shown how strong was the influence of
Dorian Greece in Sicily. Almost all the ancient architectural remains
belong to that people. The Carthaginians, who succeeded the Greeks, left
but slight traces of humanising influence; and the rule of the Romans
was that of conquerors, oppressive and destructive of the civilisation
of the people. After the Christian era, a very similar succession of
influences took place. First and most powerful was the Byzantine
element, which forms the groundwork and main ingredient in all that
follows. To this succeeded the Saracenic epoch: bright, brilliant, but
evanescent. In the 11th century the Italian element resumed its sway
under the banner of a few Norman adventurers, and in the guise of a
Norman conquest sacerdotal Rome regained the inheritance of her imperial
predecessor. In the Christian period, however, the elements were far
from being so distinct as in those preceding it, for reasons easily
understood. Every fresh race of masters found the island already
occupied by a very numerous population of extremely various origin. The
new-comers could do no more than add their own forms of art to those
previously in use; the consequence being in every case a mixed style,
containing elements derived from every portion of the inhabitants.
We have no means of knowing the exact form of the Byzantine churches of
Sicily before the Arab invasion. All have either perished or are
undescribed. The Saracenic remains, too, have all disappeared, the
buildings generally supposed to be relics of their rule being now proved
to have been erected by Mahometan workmen for their Christian masters.
With the Norman sway a style arose which goes far to supply all these
deficiencies, being Greek in essence, Roman in form, and Saracenic in
decoration; and these elements mixed in exactly those proportions which
we should expect. Nowhere do we find the square-domed plans of the Greek
Church, nor any form suited to the Greek ritual. These have given place
to the Roman basilica, and to an arrangement adapted to the rites of the
Romish Church; but all the work was performed by Greek artists, and the
Roman outline was filled up and decorated to suit the taste and
conciliate the feelings of the worshippers, who were conquered Greeks or
converted Moors. Their fancy, too—richer and happier than that of the
ruder races of the West—was allowed full play. An Eastern exuberance in
designing details and employing colours is here exhibited, cramped a
little, it must be confessed, by the architectural forms and the ritual
arrangements to which it is applied, but still a ruling and beautifying
principle throughout.
Among all these elements, those who are familiar with architectural
history will hardly look for anything indicative of purely Norman taste
or feelings. A mere handful of military adventurers, they conquered as
soldiers of Rome and for her aggrandisement, and held the fief for her
advantage: they could have brought no arts even if their country had
then possessed any. They were content that their newly-acquired subjects
should erect for them palaces after the beautiful fashion of the
country, and that Roman priests should direct the building of churches
suited to their forms, but built as the Sicilians had been accustomed to
build, and decorated as they could decorate them, better than their
masters and conquerors.
All this, when properly understood, lends an interest to the history of
this little branch of architecture, wholly independent of its artistic
merit; but the art itself is so beautiful and so instructive, from its
being one of the styles where polychromy was universally employed and is
still preserved, that notwithstanding all that has been done, it still
merits more attention.
It is extremely difficult, in a limited space, to give a clear account
of the Sicilian pointed style, owing to the fusion of the three styles
of which it is composed being far from complete or simultaneous over the
whole island, and there being no one edifice in which all three are
mixed in anything like equal proportions. Each division of the island,
in fact, retains a predilection for that style which characterised the
majority of its inhabitants. Thus Messina and the northern coast as far
as Cefalu remained Italian in the main, and the churches there have only
the smallest possible admixture of either Greek or Saracenic work. The
old parts of the Nunziatella at Messina might be found at Pisa, while
the cathedral there and at Cefalu would hardly be out of place in
Apulia, except indeed that Cefalu displays a certain early predilection
for pointed arches, and something of Greek feeling in the decoration of
the choir.
In like manner in Syracuse and the southern angle of the island the
Greek feeling prevails almost to the exclusion of the other two. In
Palermo, on the other hand, and the western parts, the architecture is
so strongly Saracenic that hardly any antiquary has yet been able to
admit the possibility of such buildings as the Cuba and Ziza having been
erected by the Norman kings. There is, however, little or no doubt that
the latter was built by William I. (1154-1169), and the other about the
same time, though by whom is not so clear. Both these buildings were
erected after a century of Norman dominion in the island: still the
Saracenic influence, so predominant in them, need not astonish us, when
we consider the immeasurable superiority of the Saracens in art and
civilisation, not only to their new rulers, but to all the other
inhabitants. It was therefore only natural that they should be employed
to provide for the Norman Counts such buildings as they alone had the
heart to erect and adorn.
A still more remarkable instance of the prevalence of Saracenic ideas is
represented in Woodcut No. 531, being the Church of San Giovanni degli
Eremiti at Palermo. Here we find a building erected beyond all doubt as
late as the year 1132, by King Roger, for the purposes of Christian
worship, which would in no respect, except the form of its tower, be out
of place as a mosque in the streets of Delhi or Cairo. In fact, were we
guided by architectural considerations alone, this church would have
more properly been described under the head of Saracenic than of
Christian architecture.
There are three other churches of Palermo which exhibit the new mixed
style in all its completeness. These are the Martorana (1113-1143), in
which the Byzantine element prevails somewhat to the exclusion of the
other two; the Capella Palatina in the Palace, built in 1132; and the
more magnificent church of Monreale, near Palermo (Woodcut No. 532),
begun in 1174, and certainly the finest and most beautiful of all the
buildings erected by the Normans in this country. This church is 315 ft.
in its extreme length; while the beautiful gem-like Capella of the royal
palace is much smaller, being only 125 ft. long, and consequently
inferior in grandeur, though in the relative proportions of its parts,
and in all other essential points, very similar.
[Illustration: 531. San Giovanni degli Eremiti, Palermo. (From Gally
Knight’s ‘Normans in Sicily.’)]
In arrangement and dimensions the cathedral of Monreale very much
resembles that at Messina, showing the same general influence in both;
but all the details of the Palermitan example betray that admixture of
Greek and Saracenic feeling which is the peculiarity of Sicilian
architecture. There is scarcely a single form or detail in the whole
building which can strictly be called Gothic, or which points to any
connection with Northern arts or races. The plan of this, as of all the
Sicilian churches, is that of a Roman basilica, far more than of a
Gothic church. In none of them was any vault ever either built or
intended. The central is divided from the side-aisles by pillars of a
single stone, generally borrowed from ancient temples, but (in this
instance at least) with capitals of great beauty, suited to their
position and to the load they have to support. The pier-arches are
pointed, but not Gothic, having no successive planes of decoration, but
being merely square masses of masonry of simple but stilted forms. The
windows, too, though pointed, are undivided, and evidently never meant
for painted glass. The roofs of the naves are generally of open framing,
like those of the basilicas, and ornamented in Saracenic taste. The
aisles, the intersection of the transepts and nave, and the first
division of the sanctuary are generally richer, and consequently more
truly Moorish. The apse again is Roman. Taken altogether, it is only the
accident of the pointed arch having been borrowed from the Moors that
has led to the idea of Gothic feeling existing in these edifices. It
does exist at Messina and Cefalu, but in Palermo is almost wholly
wanting.
[Illustration: 532. Plan of Church at Monreale. (From Hittorff and
Zanth.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]
It is evident that the architectural features in the buildings of which
the cathedral of Monreale is the type, were subordinate, in the eyes of
their builders, to the mosaic decorations which cover every part of the
interior, and are, in fact, the glory and pride of the edifice, by which
alone it is entitled to rank among the finest of Mediæval churches. All
the principal personages of the Bible are represented in the stiff but
grand style of Greek art, sometimes with Greek inscriptions, and
accompanied by scenes illustrating the Old and New Testaments. They are
separated by and intermixed with arabesques and ornaments in colour and
gold, making up a decoration unrivalled in its class by anything—except,
perhaps, St. Mark’s—the Middle Ages have produced. The church at Assisi
is neither so rich nor so splendid. The Certosa is infamous in taste as
compared with this Sicilian cathedral. No specimen of opaque painting of
its class, on this side of the Alps, can compete with it in any way.
Perhaps the painted glass of some of our cathedrals may have surpassed
it, but that is gone. In this respect the mosaic has the advantage. It
is to be regretted that we have no direct means of comparing the effect
of these two modes of decoration. In both the internal architecture was
subordinate to the colour—more so, perhaps, as a general rule, in the
Sicilian examples than in the North. In fact, the architecture was
merely a vehicle for the display of painting in its highest and most
gorgeous forms.
Besides the mosaic pictures which adorn the upper part of the walls of
these Palermitan churches, they possess another kind of decoration
almost equally effective, the whole of the lower part of the walls being
revêted with slabs of marble or porphyry disposed in the most beautiful
patterns. The Martorana depends wholly for its effect on this species of
decoration. In the Capella Palatina, and the church at Monreale, it
occupies the lower part of the walls only, and serves as a base for the
storied decorations above; but whether used separately or in
combination, the result is perfect, and such as is hardly attained in
any other churches in any part of Europe.
[Illustration: 533. Portion of the Nave, Monreale. (From Hittorff and
Zanth.)]
Externally the Gothic architects had immensely the advantage. They never
allowed their coloured decorations to interfere with their architectural
effects. On the contrary, they so used them as to make the windows
externally as well as internally their most beautiful and attractive
features.
[Illustration: 534. Lateral Entrance to Cathedral at Palermo. (From
Hittorff and Zanth.)]
The cathedral of Palermo, the principal entrance of which is shown in
Woodcut No. 534, is a building of much later date, that which we now see
being principally of the 14th century. Although possessing no dignity of
outline or grace of form, it is more richly ornamented externally with
intersecting arches and mosaic decorations than almost any other church
of its class. It is richer perhaps and better than the cathedral of
Florence, inasmuch as the decorations follow the construction, and are
not—as there—a mere unmeaning panelling that might be applied anywhere.
All this is more apparent in the apse (Woodcut No. 535) than on the
lateral elevation. It converts what would be only a very plain exterior
into a very rich and ornamental composition; not quite suited to
Northern taste, but very effective in the sunny South. Still the effect
of the whole is rather pretty than grand, and as an architectural
display falls far short of the bolder masonic expression of the Northern
Gothic churches.
After these, one of the most important churches of that age in the
island is the cathedral of Cefalu, already alluded to. It was commenced
by King Roger 1131. It is 230 ft. long by 90 ft. wide. The choir and
transepts are vaulted and groined; the nave has a wooden roof; all the
arches are pointed; and with its two western towers it displays more
Gothic feeling than any other church in Sicily.
The cathedral at Messina, though closely resembling that at Monreale in
plan, has been so altered and rebuilt as to retain very little of its
original architecture. The other churches in the island are either small
and insignificant, or, like that at Messina, have been so altered that
their features are obliterated.
[Illustration: 535. East End of Cathedral at Palermo. (From
Rosengarten.)]
Besides the Saracenic castles or palaces above mentioned, there are no
important civil buildings of Mediæval style in Sicily. There are two
cloisters—one at Monreale and the other at Cefalu—both in the style
universal in all the countries bordering on the Mediterranean Sea, and
already described in speaking of those of Elne, Fontifroide, Arles, &c.,
as well as those of St. John Lateran at Rome. Their general arrangement
consists of small but elegant pillars of Corinthian design, in pairs,
supporting pointed arches of great beauty of form. In many respects this
is a more beautiful mode of producing a cloistered arcade than the
series of unglazed windows universally adopted in the North. The
Southern method presupposes a wooden or at most a tunnel-vaulted roof,
as at Arles, whereas all our best examples have intersecting vaults of
great beauty, which indeed is the excuse for the windowed arrangement
assumed by them. An intermediate course, like that adopted at Zurich
(Woodcut No. 722), would perhaps best reconcile the difficulty; but this
was only used during the period of transition from one style to the
other. The effect, however, of the cloister at Monreale, with the
fountain in one of its divisions, and a certain air of Eastern elegance
and richness pervading the whole, is not surpassed by any of the
examples on the Continent of its own size, though its dimensions do not
allow it to compete with some of the larger examples of France, and
especially of Spain.
As the employment of the pointed arch so early in Sicily has been much
quoted in the controversy regarding the invention of that feature, it
may be convenient to state here that the pointed arch was used in the
South of France—at Vaison, for instance—at least as early as the 10th
century, but only as a vaulting expedient. During the 11th it was
currently used in the south, and as far north as Burgundy; and in the
12th it was boldly adopted in the north as a vaulting, constructive and
decorative feature, giving rise to the invention of a totally new style
of architectural art.
It is by no means impossible that the pointed arch was used by the Greek
or Pelasgic colonists about Marseilles at a far earlier date, but this
can only have been in arches or domes constructed horizontally. These
may have suggested its use in radiating vaults, but can hardly be said
to have influenced its adoption. Had it not been for the constructive
advantages of pointed arches, the Roman circular form would certainly
have retained its sway. It is possible, however, that the northern
Franks would never have adopted it so completely as they did had they
not become familiar with it either in Sicily or the East. When once they
had so taken it up, they made it their own by employing it only as a
modification of the round-arched forms previously introduced and
perfected.
In Sicily the case is different; the pointed arch there never was either
a vaulting or constructive expedient—it was simply a mode of eking out,
by its own taller form and by stilting, the limited height of the Roman
pillars, which they found and used so freely. It is the same description
of arch as that used in the construction of the mosque El-Aksah at
Jerusalem in the 8th century; at Cairo in rebuilding that of Amrou in
the 9th or 10th and in El-Azhar and other mosques of that city. As such
it was used currently in Sicily by the Saracens, and in Palermo and
elsewhere became so essential a part of the architecture of the day that
it was employed as a matter of course in the churches; but it was not
introduced by the Normans, nor was it carried by them from Sicily into
France, and, except so far as already stated, it had no influence on the
arts of France. In fact there is no connection, either ethnographically
or architecturally, between the Sicilian pointed arch and the French;
and beyond the accident of the broken centre they have nothing in
common.
Although, therefore, it can hardly again be used as evidence in the
question of the invention of the pointed arch, the architecture of
Sicily deserves a better monography than it has yet been made the
subject of. It must, however, be written by some one intimately familiar
with the Byzantine, Saracenic, and Romanesque styles. To any one so
qualified, Sicily would afford the best field in Europe for tracing the
influence of race and climate on architecture: for nowhere, owing in a
great measure to its insular position, can the facts be more easily
traced, or the results more easily observed.
In one other point of view also the style deserves attention, for from
it alone can we fairly weigh the merit of the two systems of internal
decoration employed during the Middle Ages. By comparing, for instance,
the cathedral at Monreale, with such a building as the Sainte Chapelle
at Paris, we may judge whether polychromy by opaque pictures in mosaic,
or by translucent pictures on glass, is the more beautiful mode of
decorating the interior of a building. The former have undoubtedly the
advantage of durability, and interfere less with the architectural
effect, but for beauty and brilliancy of effect I have little doubt that
the general verdict would be that the latter have at least hitherto been
the most successful mode. On the whole, however, it seems that a higher
and purer class of art may be developed out of opaque painting than can
ever be obtained from transparencies, and if this is so there can be
little doubt as to which we ought now to seek to cultivate. The question
has never yet been fairly discussed; and examples sufficiently
approximating to one another, either in age or style, are so rare that
its determination is not easy. For that very reason it is the more
desirable that we should make the most of those we have, and try if from
them we can settle one of the most important questions which
architectural history has left to be determined with reference to our
future progress in the art.
CHAPTER IX.
GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE IN PALESTINE.
CONTENTS.
Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem—Churches at Abû Gosh and Lydda—
Mosque at Hebron.
---------------------
CHRONOLOGY.
DATES.
Jerusalem taken by the Crusaders A.D. 1099
Baudouin I. 1100
Baudouin II. 1118
Foulques, Count of Anjou 1131
Saladin retakes Jerusalem 1187
Third Crusade. Richard II. 1192
Frederick II. re-enters Jerusalem 1229
Re-taken by Sultan of Damascus 1239
Final overthrow of Christians 1244
---------------------
IT may at first sight appear strange that any form of architecture in
Syria should be treated as a part of that of Italy, but the
circumstances of the case are so exceptional that there can be little
doubt of the correctness of so doing. Gothic architecture was not a
natural growth in Palestine, but distinctly an importation of the
Crusaders, transplanted by them to a soil where it took no root, and
from which it died out when the fostering care of Western protection was
removed. In this it is only too true a reflex of the movement to which
it owed its origin. The Crusades furnish one of those instances in the
history of the world where the conquerors of a nation have been so
numerous as entirely to supplant, for a time, the native population and
the indigenous institutions of the country. For nearly a century
Jerusalem was subject to kings and barons of a foreign race. The feudal
system was imported entire, with its orders of knighthood, its
“Assises,” and all the concomitant institutions which had grown up with
the feudal system in Western Europe. With them, as a matter of course,
came the hierarchy of the Roman Church, and with it the one style of
architecture which they then knew, or which was appropriate to their
form of worship.
The one point which is not at first sight obvious is, why the Gothic
style in Palestine should be so essentially Italian, with so little
admixture of the styles prevalent on the northern side of the Alps. It
may have been that then, as now, the Italians settled loosely in the
land. We know that the trade of the Levant was at that time in the hands
of Venice and other Italian cities, and it is clear that it was easier
to send to Italy for artists and workmen, than to France and Germany,
and much more likely that an Italian would undertake the erection of
buildings in the East than a Northern architect, whose ideas of
Palestine and its ways must have been extremely indistinct. Be this as
it may, there is little in the Gothic architecture of Palestine either
as regards arrangement or details—except the plan of the church of the
Holy Sepulchre—which would excite attention as singular if found in the
South of Italy or Sicily; and as little that would not seem out of place
if found on our side of the Alps.
HOLY SEPULCHRE.
The principal buildings erected by the Crusaders in Palestine were, as
might be expected, the extensive additions made to the church or rather
to the group of churches near the Holy Sepulchre—the deliverance of
which from the hands of the infidels was the object of that wonderful
burst of national enthusiasm.[9]
The buildings on the site have been so repeatedly ruined and rebuilt,
and so little remains now of their original features prior to the
Crusaders’ work, that it is only necessary here to state the generally
accepted belief that the rotunda (A) shown on the upper part of the plan
(Woodcut No. 536) represents the position of the great apse erected by
Constantine, round what he considered to be the sepulchre of Christ
(marked B on plan). The great basilica which is described by
Eusebius,[10] was erected on the east side of this. This and other
buildings were destroyed by Chosroes the Persian in 614, and portions
only (those round the Holy Sepulchre) were restored by Modestus in 629.
In 1010, the mad Khalif Hakem destroyed Modestus’s work, and the
rotunda, as shown in Woodcut, was built by the Emperor Constantine
Monomachus thirty years later.
[Illustration: 536. Plan of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Scale 100
ft. to 1 in.]
When the Crusaders reached Jerusalem, 1099 A.D., the sepulchre appears
to have stood in a court open to the sky,[11] but “covered over lest
rain should fall upon it,” surrounded with an aisle and with five
chapels (C.D.E.F.G.) attached to it. These the Crusaders
incorporated[12] with their additions and alterations, which amounted
almost to a rebuilding of the church. The plan (Woodcut No. 536)
indicates in black those portions found by the Crusaders; in half tone,
those which were built by them, and in outline only the subsequent
additions made before and after the great fire of 1808.[13] Though
entirely at variance with the arrangement of the basilica and
independent tomb-house as adopted by Constantine some seven centuries
earlier, it would seem that the object of the Crusader was to preserve
intact the Rotunda and the Holy Sepulchre. The principal entrance led
into what was virtually the main transept, with the Rotunda on the west
side and the choir and apse on the east. At a later period the space
within the crossing was enclosed for the Greek Church, so that the
Rotunda now appears to be the nave, and it is in that sense that the
church has been so often copied. The plan was commonly employed in the
North of Europe (Woodcuts Nos. 790 to 795), and bloomed into perfection
at Cologne in the church of St. Gereon (Woodcut No. 741). It is also
found at Little Maplestead (Woodcut No. 847), Zara (Woodcut No. 486), in
the churches of the Temple in London, of St. Sepulchre at Cambridge, and
elsewhere. In all these instances it consists of a circular nave leading
to a rectangular choir terminated by an apse. Though primarily
sepulchral in its origin, it is used in all these places without any
reference to its original destination, and had become a recognised form
of Christian church for the ordinary purposes of worship.
Though containing so many objects of interest, the church itself is not
large, measuring 245 ft. long internally, exclusive of the crypt and
chapel of the cross, which being at a much lower level must have formed
a crypt under the nave and aisles of the basilica.
So far as can be judged from the information which remains to us, the
style (before the fire of 1808, after which the Rotunda was entirely
rebuilt) was tolerably homogeneous throughout. The transept, now
converted into a choir, and the apse, which, though commenced in 1103,
were not completed before 1169, show progress in style. All the
constructive arches in this part of the building are pointed—but the
decorative portions still retain the circular form.
[Illustration: 537. Holy Sepulchre—Plan and Elevation as it existed
before the fire in 1808. (From Bernardino Amico.)]
Owing to its situation, and its being so much encumbered by other
buildings, the only part of the exterior which makes any pretension to
architectural magnificence is the Southern double portal, erected
apparently between the years 1140 and 1160. This is a rich and elegant
example of the style of ornamentation prevalent in Sicily and Southern
Italy in the 12th century, but among its most elaborate decoration, are
two rich cornices of classical date, built in unsymmetrically as
string-courses, amongst details belonging to the time of the Crusades.
From their style these cornices undoubtedly belong to the age of
Constantine, and are probably fragments of some ancient buildings. At an
earlier age such fragments would probably have been more extensively
used up; but in the 12th century the architects had acquired confidence
in themselves and their own style, and despised classical arrangements
both in plan and in detail.
The sepulchre itself seems to have been rebuilt, about the year
1555,[14] or at least so thoroughly repaired that it is difficult to say
what its exact original form may have been. Probably it did not differ
materially from that shown in the woodcut, since that resembles the
style of the 12th much more than that of the 16th century.
Although the church of the Holy Sepulchre was, naturally, by far the
greatest work undertaken by the Crusaders, there are some six or seven
other churches in Jerusalem,[15] or its immediate vicinity, which were
erected during the 12th century. The most complete of these at the
present day is that of St. Anne—now in course of thorough repair by the
French Government.
[Illustration: 538. Plan of Church at Abû Gosh. (From De Vogüé.) Scale
50 ft. to 1 in.]
It is a small church, 112 ft. long by 66 ft. wide internally, divided
into three aisles, each terminating in an apse, and covered with
intersecting vaults, showing strongly-marked transverse ribs of the
usual Italian pattern. It has also a small dome on the intersection
between the nave and transept. The windows are small and without
tracery. It is, in fact, a counterpart of the usual Italian church of
the age. The same remarks apply to Ste. Marie la Grande, Ste. Marie
Latine, the Madeleine, and other churches which the Christians built in
their quarter of the town during their occupation, to replace those of
which the Moslems had deprived them.
[Illustration: 539. East End of Church at Abû Gosh. (From De Vogüé.)]
One of the most perfect churches of this age, out of Jerusalem, is that
at Abû Gosh—the ancient Kirjath-Jearim (Woodcuts Nos. 538, 539).
Externally it is a rectangle, 86 ft. by 57 ft., with three apses which
do not appear externally. Under the whole is an extensive crypt. Though
small, it is so complete, and so elegant in all its details, that it
would be difficult to find anywhere a more perfect example of the style.
As it now stands it is very much simpler and plainer than any Northern
example of the same age would be; but it originally depended on painting
for its decoration, and traces of this may still be seen on its
desecrated walls. It is now used as a cattle-shed. The church at Ramleh
is one of the largest, and must originally have been one of the finest,
of these Syrian churches. It is now used as a mosque, and the consequent
alteration of its arrangement, with plaster and whitewash, have done
much to destroy its architectural effect.
[Illustration: 540. East End of Church at Lydda. (From De Vogüé.)]
At Sebaste there is one as large as that at Ramleh—160 ft. by 80 ft.—and
showing a more completely developed Gothic style than those at
Jerusalem. At Lydda there is another very similar in detail to that last
mentioned. Though now only a fragment, it is one of singular elegance,
and shows a purity of detail and arrangement not usual in Northern
churches of that age. De Vogüé is of opinion that both the last-named
churches must have been completed before the year 1187. It is hard,
however, to believe that an Italian Gothic style could have attained
that degree of perfection so early, and if the date assigned is correct,
it is evident that the pointed style was developed earlier in the East
than in the West, a circumstance which, from our knowledge of what had
happened in Armenia and elsewhere, is by no means improbable.
[Illustration: 541. Apse of Church at Lydda. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.]
The date assigned to these churches is rendered more probable by the
existence of a Gothic building, certainly as advanced as any of those
mentioned, within the enclosure of the mosque at Hebron. If this was a
work of the Crusaders it must have been built before 1187, since the
Christians never had access to the place after their defeat at Tiberias.
If not erected by them, we are forced to assume that the Moslems, after
recovering possession of the sepulchres of the Patriarchs, employed some
Christian renegades or slaves to erect a mosque on the spot, in their
own style of architecture. This is, however, by no means improbable,
since it is the only Christian church (if it be one) in Palestine which
has no apse, though there would have been no difficulty in introducing
three apses in the same manner as at Abû Gosh (Woodcut No. 538) had it
been so desired. It should also be remarked that the three aisles point
southward towards Mecca, and that, except in style, it has all the
appearance of a mosque. Both Christian and Mahometan tradition are
silent as to its erection, so that the determination of the question
must depend on a more careful examination than has yet been possible.
Whichever way it may be decided, it is a curious question. It is either
a Christian building without the arrangement elsewhere universally
indispensable, or it is a Moslem mosque in a Christian style of
architecture. If the former, the complete development of the Italian
pointed style of architecture in the East must be fixed at not less than
half a century anterior to that in the West.
[Illustration:
542. Plan of Mosque at Hebron. Scale 100 ft to 1 in.
The Gothic portion is shaded black, the Jewish hatched, and the
Mahometan outlined.
]
BOOK III.
FRANCE.
CHAPTER I.
CONTENTS.
Division of subject—Pointed arches—Provence—Churches at Avignon, Arles,
Alet, Fontifroide, Maguelonne, Vienne—Circular churches—Towers—
Cloisters.
---------------------
CHRONOLOGY.
DATES.
Charlemagne A.D. 768-813
Rollo, first Duke of Normandy 911
Hugh Capet 987
William II. of Normandy, or the Conqueror 1055-1086
Henry I. of France 1031
Philip I., or l’Amoureux 1060
Louis VI., or le Gros 1108
Louis VII., or le Jeune 1137
St. Bernard of Clairvaux 1091-1153
Philip II., or l’Auguste 1180
Louis VIII., or the Lion 1223
Louis IX., or the Saint 1226
Philip III., the Hardy 1270
Philip IV., or the Fair 1285
Philip VI. of Valois 1328
Battle of Crecy 1346
John II., the Good 1350
Charles V., the Wise 1364
Charles VI., the Beloved 1380
Charles VII., the Victorious 1422
Joan of Arc 1412-1431
Louis XI. 1461
Charles VIII. 1483
Louis XII. 1498
Francis I. 1515
---------------------
TO those who do not look beyond the present, France appears to be one of
the most homogeneous of all the countries of Europe—inhabited by a
people speaking one language, professing one religion, governed by the
same laws, and actuated by the same feelings and aspirations; yet it
certainly is not so in reality, and in the Middle Ages the distinctions
between the various races and peoples were strongly marked and capable
of easy definition. Wars, persecutions, and revolutions, have done much
to obliterate these, and the long habit of living under a centralised
despotism has produced a superficial uniformity which hides a great deal
of actual diversity. The process of fusion commenced apparently about
the reign of Louis the Saint (A.D. 1226), and has gone on steadily ever
since. Before his time France was divided into six or eight great
ethnographic provinces which might now be easily mapped out, though
their boundaries frequently differed widely from the political division
of the land.
No systematic attempt has yet been made to construct an ethnographic map
of the country from the architectural remains, though it is easy to see
how it might be done. What is wanted is that some competent archæologist
should do for the ethnography of France what Sir W. Smith did at the end
of the last century for the geology of England. Like that early pioneer
of exact knowledge in his peculiar department, he must be content to
wander from province to province, from village to village, visiting
every church, and examining every architectural remain, comparing one
with another, tracing their affinities, and finally classifying and
mapping the whole. It is probable that the labour of one man would
hardly suffice for this purpose. Monographs would be required to
complete the task, but it is one of such singular interest that it is
hoped it may soon be undertaken.
One of the great difficulties in attempting anything of the sort at
present is the nomenclature. When the science is further advanced, such
names as Silurian, Cambrian, &c., will no doubt be invented, but at
present we must be content with the political name which seems most
nearly to express the ethnographical distribution; though in scarcely a
single instance will these be found strictly correct, all in consequence
being open to adverse criticism. In France it frequently happened that
two or more ethnographic provinces were united under one sceptre—
eventually all were merged into one—and during the various changes that
took place in the Middle Ages, it was only by accident that the
political boundary exactly agreed for any great length of time with the
ethnographical.
In Germany, on the contrary, a single race is and was cut up into
numerous political divisions, so that it becomes, from the opposite
cause alone, equally difficult to apply a nomenclature which shall
correctly represent the facts of the case.
In such a work as this it would be manifestly absurd to attempt to
adjust all this with anything like minute accuracy, but the principal
features are so easily recognised that no great confusion can arise in
the application of such names as are usually employed, and it is to be
hoped that before long a better system of nomenclature will be invented
and applied.
We may rest assured of one thing, at all events, which is that the
architectural remains in France are as sufficient for the construction
of an ethnographic map of that country as the rocks are for the
compilation of a geological survey. If the one opens out to the student
an immense expanse of scientific knowledge, the other is hardly of less
interest, though in a less extended field. There are few studies more
pleasing than that of tracing the history of man through his works, and
none bring the former condition of humanity so vividly back to us as
those records which have been built into the walls of their temples or
their palaces by those who were thus unconsciously recording their
feelings for the instruction of their posterity.
[Illustration: 543. Diagram of the Architectural Divisions of
France.[16]]
The first thing that strikes the student in examining architecturally
the map of France is the recurrence of the same phenomenon as was
remarked in that of Italy, a division into two nearly equal halves by a
boundary line running east and west. In both countries, to the southward
of this line the land was occupied by a Romanesque people who, though
conquered, were never colonised by the Barbarians to such an extent as
to alter their blood or consequently the ethnographic relations of the
people. North of the line the Goths and Lombards in Italy, and the
Franks in Gaul, settled in such numbers as to influence very
considerably the status of the races, in some instances almost to the
obliteration of their leading characteristics.
In France the boundary line follows the valley of the Loire near its
northern edge till it passes behind Tours; it crosses that river between
that city and Orleans, follows a somewhat devious course to Lyons, and
up the valley of the Rhone to Geneva.
In the Middle Ages the two races were roughly designated as those
speaking the Langue d’oc and the Langue d’œil—somewhat more correctly
those to the south were called Romance,[18] those to the north Frankish;
but the truth is, the distinction is too broad to be now clearly
defined, and we must descend much more into detail before any
satisfactory conclusion can be arrived at.
On the south of the line, one of the most beautiful as well as the best
defined architectural provinces is that I have ventured to designate as
Provence or Provençal. Its limits are very nearly coincident with those
of Gallia Narbonensis, and “Narbonese” would consequently be a more
correct designation, and would be adopted if treating of a classical
style of art. It has, however, the defect of including Toulouse, which
does not belong to the province, and consequently the name affects an
accuracy it does not possess. It may, therefore, be better at present to
adopt the vague name of the “Provence” _par excellence_, especially as
Provençal is a word applied by French authors to literary matters much
in the sense it is here used to define an architectural division. The
whole of the south coast of France from the Alps to the Pyrenees belongs
to this province, and it extends up the valley of the Rhone as far as
Lyons, and is generally bounded by the hills on either side of that
river.
Perhaps the best mode of defining the limits of the Aquitanian province
would be to say that it includes all those towns whose names end with
the Basque article _ac_, consequently indicating the presence at some
former period of a people speaking that language or something very
closely allied to it, or at all events differing from those of the rest
of France. It is only on the eastward that the line seems difficult to
define. There are some towns, such as Barjac, Quissac, Gignac, in the
valley of the Rhone, in situations that would seem to belong to
Provence, and until their churches are examined it is impossible to say
to which they belong. On the south Aquitania is bounded by the Pyrenees,
on the west by the sea, and on the North by a line running nearly
straight from the mouth of the Garonne to Langeac, near to Le
Puy-en-Velay.
The third is designated that of Anjou, or the Angiovine, from its most
distinguished province. This includes the lower part of the Loire, and
is bounded on the north-east by the Cher. Between it and the sea is a
strip of land, including the Angoumois, Saintonge, and Vendée, which it
is not easy to know where to place. It may belong, so far as we yet
know, to either Aquitania or Anjou, or possibly may deserve a separate
title altogether; but in the map it is annexed for the present to Poitou
or the Angiovine province.
In Brittany the two styles meet, and are so mixed together that it is
impossible to separate them. In that district there is neither pure
Romance nor pure Frankish, but a style partaking of the peculiarities of
each without belonging to either.
Besides these, there is the small and secluded district of Auvergne,
having a style peculiarly its own, which, though certainly belonging to
the southern province, is easily distinguished from any of the
neighbouring styles, and is one of the most pleasing to be found of an
early age in France.
Beyond this to the eastward lies the great Burgundian province, having a
well-defined and well-marked style of its own, influenced by or
influencing all those around it. Its most marked characteristic is what
may be called a mechanical mixture of the classical and mediæval styles
without any real fusion. Essentially and constructively the style is
Gothic, but it retained the use of Corinthian pilasters and classical
details till late in the Middle Ages: Burgundy was also in the Middle
Ages the country of monasticism _par excellence_—a circumstance which
had considerable influence on her forms of art.
Taking, then, a more general view of the southern province, it will be
seen that if a line were drawn from Marseilles to Brest, it would pass
nearly through the middle of it. At the south-eastern extremity of such
a line we should find a style almost purely Romanesque, passing by slow
and equal gradations into a Gothic form at its other terminal.
On turning to the Frankish province the case is somewhat different.
Paris is here the centre, from which everything radiates: and though the
Norman invasion, and other troubles of those times, with the rebuilding
mania of the 13th century, have swept away nearly all traces of the
early buildings, still it is easy to see how the Gothic style arose in
the Isle of France, and how it spread from thence to all the
neighbouring provinces.
In consequence, however, of the loss of its early buildings, and of its
subsequent pre-eminence and supercession of the earlier styles, the
description of its features naturally follows that of the subordinate
provinces, and concludes the history of the mediæval styles in France.
Not to multiply divisions, we may include in the Northern province many
varieties that will afterwards be marked as distinct in maps of French
architecture, especially at the south-east, where the Nivernois and
Bourbonnois, if not deserving of separate honours, at least consist of
such a complete mixture of the Frankish and Burgundian with the Southern
styles, that they cannot strictly be said to belong to any one in
particular, though they partake of all. The Northern, however, is
certainly the predominant element, and with that therefore they should
be classed.
To the westward lies the architectural province of Normandy, one of the
most vigorous offshoots of the Frankish style: and from the power of the
Norman dukes in the 11th and 12th centuries, and the accidental
circumstance of its prosperity in those centuries when the rest of
France was prostrate from their ravages and torn by internal
dissensions, the Romanesque style shows itself here with a vigour and
completeness not found elsewhere. It is, however, evidently only the
Frankish style based remotely on Roman tradition, but which the
Barbarians used with a freedom and boldness which soon converted it into
a purely national form. This soon ripened into the complete Gothic style
of the 13th century, which was so admired that it soon spread over the
whole face of Europe, and became the type of all Gothic architecture.
Alsace is not included in this enumeration, as it certainly belongs
architecturally to Germany. Lorraine too is more German than French, and
if included at all, must be so as an exceptional transitional province.
French Flanders belonged, in the Middle Ages, to the Belgian provinces
behind it, and may therefore also be disregarded at present: but even
after rejecting all these, enough is still left to render it difficult
to remember and follow all the changes in style introduced by these
different races, and which marked not only the artistic but the
political state of France during the Middle Ages, when the six
territorial peers of France, the Counts of Toulouse, Aquitaine,
Normandy, Burgundy, Champagne, and Flanders, represented the six
principal provinces of the kingdom, under their suzerain, the Count or
King of Paris. These very divisions might now be taken to represent the
architectural distinctions, were it not that the pre-eminence of these
great princes belongs to a later epoch than the architectural divisions
which we have pointed out, and which we must now describe somewhat more
at length.
POINTED ARCHES.
Before proceeding to describe these various styles in detail, it may add
to the clearness of what follows if the mode in which the pointed arch
was first introduced into Christian architecture is previously
explained. It has already been shown that the pointed arch with
radiating voussoirs was used by the Assyrians as early as the time of
Sargon in the 8th century B.C., and by the Ethiopians as early as that
of Tirhakah. The Etrurians and Pelasgi used the form probably twelve
centuries before the Christian era, but constructed it with horizontal
courses. To come nearer, however, to our own time, the Saracens
certainly adopted it at Cairo in the first century of the Hegira,[19]
and employed it generally if not universally, and never apparently used
a round arch after the erection of the mosque of Ebn Tulûn, A.D. 879.
The Romanesque traditions, however, prevented the Christians from
adopting it in Europe till forced to do it from constructive
necessities; and the mode of its introduction into the early churches in
Provence renders them singularly important in enabling us to arrive at a
correct solution of this much mooted question.[20]
It is hardly worth while discussing whether the form was borrowed from
the East, where it had been used so long before it was known—or at least
before we are aware of its being known—in Europe. It may be that the
Pelasgic Greeks left examples of it in Provence, or that persons trading
to the Levant from Marseilles became familiar with its uses; or it may
be, though very unlikely, that it was really re-invented for the
purposes to which it was applied.
In whatever way it was introduced, it at least seems certain that all
the churches of Provence, from the age of Charlemagne to that of St.
Louis, were vaulted, and have their vaults constructed on the principle
of the pointed arch. It has nevertheless long been a received dogma with
the antiquaries of France, as well as with those of England, that the
pointed arch was first introduced in the 12th century—the first example
being assumed to be the work of Abbot Suger at St. Denis (1144-52), the
result of which is that all who have written on the subject of Provençal
architecture have felt themselves forced to ascribe the age of the
churches in question, or at least of their roofs, a date subsequent to
this period.
The use to which the Provençal architects applied the pointed arch will
be evident from the annexed diagram, the left-hand portion of which is a
section of the roof of one of the churches at Vaison. The object
evidently was to lay the roof or roofing-tiles directly on the vault, as
the Romans had done on their domes, and also, so far as we know, on
those of their thermæ. Had they used a circular vault for this purpose,
it is evident, from the right-hand side of the diagram, that to obtain a
straight-lined roof externally, and the necessary watershed, it would
have been requisite to load the centre of the vault to a most dangerous
extent, as at A; whereas with the pointed arch it only required the
small amount of filling up shown at B, and even that might have been
avoided by a little contrivance if thought necessary. By adopting the
pointed form the weights are so distributed as to ensure stability and
to render the vault self-supporting. It has already been observed that
the Gothic architects everywhere treated their vaults as mere false
ceilings, covering them with a roof of wood—an expedient highly
objectionable in itself, and the cause of the destruction, by fire or
from neglect, of almost all the churches we now find in ruins all over
Europe; whereas, had they adhered either to the Roman or Romance style
of roofing, the constant upholding hand of man would not have been
required to protect their buildings from decay.
[Illustration: 544. Diagram of Vaulting. South of France.]
The one obstacle in the way of the general adoption of this mode of
roofing was the difficulty of applying it to intersecting vaults. The
Romans, it is true, had conquered the difficulty; so had the Byzantine
architects, as we have already seen, displaying the ends of the vaults
as ornaments; and even at St. Mark’s, Venice, this system is adopted,
and with the additional advantage of the pointed arch might have been
carried further. Still it must be confessed that it was not easy—that it
required more skill in construction and a better class of masonry than
was then available to do this efficiently and well. The consequence is,
that all the Romance pointed vaults are simple tunnel-vaults without
intersections, and that the Gothic architects, when they adopted the
form, slurred over the difficulty by hiding the upper sides of their
vaults beneath a temporary wooden roof, which protected them from the
injuries of the weather. This certainly was one of the greatest mistakes
they made: had they carefully profiled and ornamented the exterior of
the stone roofs in the same manner as they ornamented the inside, their
buildings would have been not only much more beautiful, but much more
permanent, and the style would have been saved from the principal
falsity that now deforms it. Even as it is, if we wished intelligently
to adapt the Gothic to our purposes, instead of merely copying it, this
is one of the points to which we ought first to turn our attention.
[Illustration: 545. Fig. 1. Fig. 2. Fig. 3.]
Another circumstance which may be alluded to here, when speaking on this
subject, which led to the adoption of the pointed arch at an early age
in the southern provinces of France, was the use of domes as a roofing
expedient. These, it is true, are not found in Provence, but they are
common in Aquitaine and Anjou—some of them certainly of the 11th
century; and there can be little doubt but that these are not the
earliest, though their predecessors have perished or have not yet been
brought to light.
There is no one who has studied the subject who is not aware how
excellent, as a constructive expedient, the pointed arch is as applied
to intersecting vaults, but it is not so generally understood why it was
equally necessary in the construction of domes. So long as these rested
on drums rising from the ground the circular form sufficed; but when it
became necessary to rest them on pendentives in the angles of square or
octagonal buildings, the case was widely different. The early Byzantine
architects—in Sta. Sophia, for instance—did fit pendentives to circular
arches, but it was with extreme difficulty, and required very great
skill both in setting out and in execution. But the superiority of the
pointed form was perceived at an early date; and the Saracens, who were
trammelled by no traditions, adopted it at once as a doming expedient
and adhered to it as exclusively as the Gothic architects did in the
construction of their vaults—and for the same reason—simply because it
was the best mode of construction.
It is easy to explain why this should be so. In the diagram on the
preceding page, fig. 1 represents the pendentives of a dome resting on
circular arches. At A they become evanescent, and for some distance from
the centre are so weak that it is only by concealed construction that
they can be made to do their work. When the pointed arch is introduced,
as in fig. 2, not only is great freedom obtained in spacing, but the
whole becomes constructively correct; when, as in fig. 3, an octagonal
arrangement is adopted, the whole becomes still more simple and easy,
and very little adjustment is required to fit a dome to an octagon: and
if the angles are again cut off, so as to form a polygon of 16 sides,
all the exigencies of construction are satisfied.
[Illustration: 546. Section of Church at Carcassonne, with the outer
aisles added in the 14th century. No scale.]
At St. Front, Périgueux, at Moissac, and at Loches, we find the pointed
arch, introduced evidently for this purpose, and forming a class of
roofs more like those of mosques in Cairo than any other buildings in
Europe. It is true they now look bare and formal—their decorations
having been originally painted on stucco, which has pealed off; but
still the variety of form and perspective they afford internally, and
the character and truthfulness they give to the roof as seen from
without, are such advantages that we cannot but regret that these two
expedients of stone external roofs and domes were not adopted in Gothic.
Had the great architects of that style in the 13th century carried out
these with their characteristic zeal and earnestness, they might have
left us a style in every respect infinitely more perfect and more
beautiful than the one they invented, and which we are copying so
servilely, instead of trying, with our knowledge and means of
construction, to repair the errors and omissions of our forefathers, and
out of the inheritance they have left us to work out something more
beautiful and more worthy of our greater refinement and more advanced
civilisation.
The practice of the Greeks in respect to their roofs was a curious
contrast to that of the mediæval architects. Their architecture, as
before remarked, being essentially external, while that of the Middle
Ages was internal, they placed the stone of their roofs on the outside,
and took the utmost pains to arrange the covering ornamentally; but they
supported all this on a framework of wood, which in every instance has
perished. It is difficult to say which was the greater mistake of the
two. Both were wrong without doubt. The happy medium seems to be that
which the Romance architects aimed at—a complete homogeneous roof, made
of the most durable materials and ornamented, both externally and
internally; and there can be little doubt but that this is the only
legitimate and really artistic mode of effecting this purpose, and the
one to which attention should now be turned.[21]
This early mode of employing the pointed arch is so little understood
generally that, before leaving this branch of the subject, it may be
well to quote one other example with a perfectly authentic date.
The Church of St. Nazaire at Carcassonne was dedicated by Pope Urban II.
in 1096. It was not then quite complete, but there seems no doubt but
that the nave, as we now find it, was finished by the year 1100. As will
be seen from the annexed section, the side aisles and all the openings
are constructed with round arches; but the difficulty of vaulting the
nave forced on the architects the introduction of the pointed arch. It
is here constructed solid with flat ribs over each pillar, and without
any attempt to pierce it for the introduction of light; and as the west
end is blocked up—fortified in fact—the result is gloomy enough.
This example is also interesting when looked at from another point of
view. If we turn back to Woodcuts Nos. 187 and 188, and compare them
with this section, we shall be able to gauge exactly the changes which
were introduced and the progress that was made, during the 1000 years
that elapsed between the erection of these two buildings. In the plan of
the temple of Diana at Nîmes, we have the same three-aisled arrangement
as at Carcassonne. Their dimensions are not very dissimilar; the nave at
Nîmes is 27 ft. wide, the aisles 7½ ft. in the clear. At Carcassonne
this becomes 25 ft. and 10 ft. respectively. The aisles are in the early
example separated from the nave by screen walls, adorned with pillars
which are mere ornaments. In the later examples the pillars have become
the main support of the roof, the wall being omitted between them.
The roof of the nave in both instances is adorned with flat ribs, one
over each pillar; but at Nîmes the rib is rather wider than the space
between. At Carcassonne the rib occupies only one-fourth of the width of
the bay. One of their most striking differences is, that Nîmes displays
all that megalithic grandeur for which the works of the Romans were so
remarkable; while at Carcassonne the masonry is little better than
rubble. It need hardly be added that the temple displays an elegance of
detail which charms the most fastidious taste, while the decoration of
the church is rude and fantastic, though no doubt picturesque and
appropriate. The last remark must not, however, be understood as a
reproach to Gothic art, for the choir of this very church, and the two
outer arches shown in the Woodcut No. 546, were rebuilt in the year
1331, with an elegance of detail which, in a constructive sense, would
shame the best classical examples. The nave is a tentative example of a
rude age, when men were inventing, or trying to invent, a new style, and
before they quite knew how to set about it. The builders of Carcassonne
had this temple at Nîmes standing, probably much more complete than it
is now, within 120 miles of them, and they were attempting to copy it as
best they could. It is probable, however, they had also other models
besides this one, and certain that this was not the first attempt to
reproduce them. The differences are considerable; but the similarities
are so great that we ought rather to be astonished that ten centuries of
experience and effort had not shown more progress than we find.
PROVENCE.
There are few chapters in the history of mediæval architecture which it
would be more desirable to have fully and carefully written than that of
the style of Provence from the retirement of the Romans to the accession
of the Franks. This country, from various causes, retained more of its
former civilisation through the dark ages than any other, at least on
this side of the Alps. Such a history, however, is to be desired more in
an archæological than in an architectural point of view; for the
Provençal churches, compared with the true Gothic, though numerous and
elegant, are small, and most of them have undergone such alterations as
to prevent us from judging correctly of their original effect.
Among the Provençal churches, one of the most remarkable is Notre Dame
de Doms, the cathedral at Avignon (Woodcut No. 547). Like all the
others, its dimensions are small, as compared with those in the northern
province, as it is only 200 ft. in length, and the nave about 20 ft. in
width. The side aisles have been so altered and rebuilt, that it is
difficult to say what their plan and dimensions originally may have
been.
[Illustration: 547. Porch of Notre Dame de Doms, Avignon. (From
Laborde’s ‘Monuments de la France.’)]
The most remarkable feature and the least altered is the porch, which is
so purely Romanesque that it might almost be said to be copied from such
examples as the arches on the bridge of Chamas (Woodcut No. 221). It
presents, however, all that attenuation of the horizontal features which
is so characteristic of the Lower Empire, and cannot rank higher than
the Carlovingian era; though it is not quite so easy to determine how
much more modern it may be. The same ornaments are found in the
interior, and being integral parts of the ornamentation of the pointed
roof, have led to various theories to account for this copying of
classical details after the period at which it was assumed that the
pointed arch had been introduced. It has been sufficiently explained
above, how early this was the case as a vaulting expedient in this
quarter; and that difficulty being removed, we may safely ascribe the
whole of the essential parts of this church to a period not long, if at
all, subsequent to the age of Charlemagne.
Next perhaps in importance to this, is the church of St. Trophime at
Arles, the nave of which, with its pointed vault, probably belongs to
the same age, though its porch (Woodcut No. 548), instead of being the
earliest part as in the last instance, is here the most modern, having
been erected in the 11th century, when the church to which it is
attached acquired additional celebrity by the translation of the body of
St. Trophime to a final resting-place within its walls. As it is, it
forms a curious and interesting pendent to the one last quoted, showing
how in the course of two centuries the style had passed from debased
Roman to a purely native form, still retaining a strong tradition of its
origin, but so used and so ornamented that, were we not able to trace
back the steps one by one by which the porch at Avignon led to that of
Arles, we might almost be inclined to doubt the succession.
[Illustration: 548. Porch of St. Trophime, Arles. (From Chapuy,
‘Moyen-Âge Monumental.’)]
The porches at Aix, Cuxa, Coustonges, Prades, Valcabre, Tarascon, and
elsewhere in this province, form a series of singular interest, and of
great beauty of detail mixed with all the rich exuberance of our own
Norman doorways, and follow one another by such easy gradations that the
relative age of each may easily be determined.
The culminating example is that at St. Gilles, near the mouths of the
Rhone, which is by far the most elaborate church of its class, but so
classical in many of its details, that it probably is somewhat earlier
than this one at Arles, which it resembles in many respects, though far
exceeding it in magnificence. It consists of three such porches placed
side by side, and connected together by colonnades—if they may be so
called—and sculpture of the richest class, forming altogether a frontal
decoration unsurpassed except in the northern churches of the 13th
century. Such porches, however, as those of Rheims, Amiens, and
Chartres, surpass even these in elaborate richness and in dimensions,
though it may be questioned if they are really more beautiful in design.
[Illustration: 549. Apse of Church at Alet. (From Taylor and Nodier,
‘Voyages dans l’Ancienne France.’)]
There is another church of the Carlovingian era at Orange, and one at
Nîmes, probably belonging to the 9th or 10th century; both however very
much injured by alterations and repairs. In the now deserted city of
Vaison there are two churches, so classical in their style, that we are
not surprised at M. Laborde,[22] and the French antiquaries in general,
classing them as remains of the classical period. In any other country
on this side of the Alps such an inference would be inevitable; but here
another code of criticism must be applied to them. The oldest, the
chapel of St. Quinide, belongs probably to the 9th or 10th century. It
is small but remarkably elegant and classical in the style of its
architecture. The apse is the most singular as well as the most ancient
part of the church, and is formed in a manner of which no other example
is found anywhere else, so far as I know. Externally it is two sides of
a square, internally a semicircle; at each angle of the exterior and in
each face is a pilaster, fairly imitated from the Corinthian order, and
supporting an entablature that might very well mislead a Northern
antiquary into the error of supposing it was a Pagan temple.
The cathedral, though larger, is more Gothic both in plan and detail,
though not without some classical features, and is entirely free from
the bold rudeness of style we are so accustomed to associate with the
architecture of the 11th century, to which it belongs. Its system of
vaulting has already been explained (Woodcut No. 544), but neither of
these buildings has yet met with the attention they so richly merit from
those who are desirous of tracing the progress of art from the decline
of the pure Roman to the rise of the true Gothic styles.
[Illustration: 550. Internal Angle of Apse at Alet. (From Taylor and
Nodier.)]
Taking it altogether, perhaps the most elegant specimen of the style is
the ruined—now, I fear, nearly destroyed—church of Alet, which, though
belonging to the 11th century, was singularly classical in its details,
and wonderfully elegant in every part of its design. Of this the apse,
as having undergone no subsequent transformation, was by far the most
interesting, though not the most beautiful, portion. Externally the
upper part was adorned with dwarf Corinthian pilasters, surmounted by a
cornice that would not discredit the buildings of Diocletian at Spalato;
the lower part was ornamented by forms of more mediæval character, but
of scarcely less elegance. In the interior the triumphal arch, as it
would be called in a Roman basilica, is adorned by two Corinthian
pillars, designed with the bold freedom of the age, though retaining the
classical forms in a most unexpected degree.
The rest of the church is as elegant as these parts, though far less
classical, the necessities of vaulting and construction requiring a
different mode of treatment, and a departure from conventional forms,
which the architect does not seem to have considered himself at liberty
to employ in the apse.
[Illustration: 551. Elevation of half one Bay of the Exterior of St.
Paul-Trois-Châteaux.]
[Illustration: 552. Half Bay of Interior of St. Paul-Trois-Châteaux.
(From the ‘Archives des Monuments Historiques.’)]
Another singularly elegant specimen of this style is the church of St.
Paul-Trois-Châteaux, near Avignon (Woodcuts Nos. 551, 552). Its details
are so elegant and so classical that it might almost be mistaken for a
building of the Lower Empire anterior to Justinian’s time. Its plan,
however, and the details of its construction, prove that it belongs to a
much more modern date; Viollet le Duc would even bring it down as low as
the 12th century. It hardly seems possible that it should be so modern
as this; but the truth is, the whole history of the Romance style in
this province has still to be written.[23] It has not yet been examined
with the care it deserves by any competent authority, and till it is we
must be content with the knowledge that, in the neighbourhood of the
Bouches du Rhône, there exists a group of churches which, drawing their
inspiration from the classical remains with which the country is
studded, exhibit an elegance of design as exquisite as it is in strange
contrast with the rude vigour—almost vulgarity—which characterised the
works of the Normans in the opposite corner of the land at the same
period.
Passing from the round-arched to the pointed modifications of this
style, the church at Fontifroide, near Narbonne, shows it in its
completeness, perhaps better than any other example. There, not only the
roof is pointed, but all the constructive openings have assumed the same
forms. The windows and doorways, it is true, still retain their circular
heads, and did retain them as long as the native style flourished—the
pointed-headed opening being only introduced by the Franks when they
occupied this country in the time of Simon de Montfort.
[Illustration: 553. Longitudinal and Cross Section of Fontifroide
Church. (From Taylor and Nodier.)]
The section across the nave (Woodcut 553) shows the form of the central
vault, which the longitudinal section shows to be a plain tunnel-vault
unbroken by any intersection throughout the whole length of the nave.
The side aisles are roofed with half vaults, forming abutments to the
central arches—the advantage of this construction being, as before
explained, that the tiles or paving-stones of the roof rest directly on
the vault without the intervention of any carpentry. Internally also the
building displays much elegant simplicity and constructive propriety.
Its chief defect is the darkness of the vault from the absence of a
clerestory, which though tolerable in the bright sunshine of the South,
could not be borne in the more gloomy North. It was to correct this, as
we shall afterwards perceive, that in the North the roof of the aisles
was first raised to the height of that of the central nave, light being
admitted through a gallery. Next the upper roof the aisles was cut away,
with the exception of mere strips or ribs left as flying buttresses.
Lastly, the central vault was cut up by intersections, so as to obtain
space for windows to the very height of the ridge. It was this last
expedient that necessitated the adoption of the pointed-headed window.
It might never have been introduced but for the invention of painted
glass, but this requiring larger openings, compelled the architects to
bring these windows close up to the lines of the constructive vaulting,
and so follow its forms. In the South, however, painted glass never was,
at least in the age of which we are now speaking, a favourite mode of
decoration, and the windows remained so small as never to approach or
interfere in any way with the lines of the vault, and they therefore
retained their national and more beautiful circular-headed termination.
The modes of introducing light are, however, undoubtedly the most
defective part of the arrangements of the Provençal churches, and have
given rise to its being called a “cavern-like Gothic”[24] from the gloom
of their interiors as compared with the glass walls of their Northern
rivals. Still it by no means follows that this was an inherent
characteristic of the style, which could not have been remedied by
further experience; but it is probable that no ingenuity would ever have
enabled this style to display these enormous surfaces of painted glass,
the introduction of which was, if not the only, at least the principal
motive of all those changes which took place in the Frankish provinces.
[Illustration: 554. Doorway in Church at Maguelonne. (From Renouvier,
‘Monuments de Bas Languedoc.’)]
It would be tedious to attempt to describe the numerous churches of the
11th and 12th centuries which are found in every considerable town in
this province: some of them, however, such as Elne, St. Guillem du
Désert, St. Martin de Landres, Vignogoul, Valmagne, Lodève,[25] &c.,
deserve particular attention, as exemplifying this style, not only in
its earlier forms, but after it had passed into a pointed style, though
differing very considerably from that of the North. Among these there is
no church more interesting than the old fortalice-like church of
Maguelonne, which, from its exposed situation, open to the attacks of
Saracenic corsairs as well as Christian robbers, looks more like a
baronial castle than a peaceful church. One of its doorways shows a
curious admixture of classical, Saracenic, and Gothic taste, which could
only be found here; and as it bears a date (1178), it marks an epoch in
the style to which it belongs.
Had it been completed, the church of St. Gilles would perhaps have been
the most splendid of the province. Its portal has already been spoken
of, and is certainly without a rival; and the lower church, which
belongs to the 11th century, is worthy of its magnificence. It was,
however, either never finished, or was subsequently ruined along with
the upper church, which was commenced in the year 1116 by Raymond IV.,
Count of St. Gilles. This too was probably never completed, or, if it
was, it was ruined in the wars with the Huguenots. Even in its present
state, and though wanting the richness of the earlier examples, it
perhaps surpasses them all in the excellence of its masonry, and the
architectural propriety of all its parts.
Besides these, there is an important church at Valence of the 11th
century, which seems to be an almost expiring effort of the
“cavern-like” style. In other respects it resembles the Northern styles
so much as almost to remove it from the Provençal class. This is even
more true of the cathedral at Vienne, which is nevertheless the largest
and finest of the churches of Provence, but which approaches, both in
style and locality, very closely to the Burgundian churches.
[Illustration: 555. Cathedral, Vienne. (From Wiebeking.) Scale 100 ft.
to 1 in.]
Its plan is extremely simple, having no transept and no aisle trending
round the apse, as is the case with most of the Northern churches. It
consists of three aisles, the central one 35 ft. wide between the piers,
the others 14 ft. The buttresses are internal, as was usual in the
South, forming chapels, and making up the whole width externally to 113
ft. by a length over all of 300, so that it covers somewhere about
30,000 sq. ft. This is only half the dimensions of some of the great
Northern cathedrals, but the absence of transepts, and its generally
judicious proportions, make this church look much larger than it really
is.
The west front and the three western bays are of the 16th century; the
next seven are of an early style of pointed architecture, with
semi-Roman pilasters, which will be described in speaking of Burgundian
architecture, and which belong probably to the 11th or beginning of the
12th century. The apse is ascribed to the year 952, but there are no
drawings on which sufficient dependence can be placed to determine the
date.
Besides this, there is another church, St. André le Bas at Vienne,
belonging to the 11th century, whose tower is one of the most pleasing
instances of this kind of composition in the province, and though
evidently a lineal descendant of the Roman and Italian campaniles,
displays an amount of design seldom met with beyond the Alps.
CIRCULAR CHURCHES.
The round shape seems never to have been a favourite for sacred
buildings in Provence, and consequently was never worked into the apses
of the churches nor became an important adjunct to them. One of the few
examples found is a small baptistery attached to the cathedral at Aix,
either very ancient or built with ancient materials, and now painfully
modernised. At Riez there is a circular detached baptistery, usually,
like the churches at Vaison, called a pagan temple, but evidently of
Christian origin, though the pillars in the interior seem undoubtedly to
have been borrowed from some more ancient and classical edifice. But the
finest of its class is the church at Rieux, probably of the 11th
century. Internally the vault is supported by 4 piers and 3 pillars,
producing an irregularity far from pleasing, and without any apparent
motive.
[Illustration: 556. Plan of Church at Planes. (From Taylor and Nodier.)]
At Planes is another church the plan of which deserves to be quoted, if
not for its merit, at least for its singularity: it is a triangle with
an apse attached to each side, and supporting a circular part
terminating in a plain roof. As a constructive puzzle it is curious, but
it is doubtful how far any legitimate use could be made of such a
_caprice_.
There is, so far as I know, only one triapsal church, that of St. Croix
at Mont Majour near Arles. Built as a sepulchral chapel, it is a
singularly gloomy but appropriate erection; but it is too tall and too
bare to rank high as a building even for such a purpose.
TOWERS.
Provence is far from being rich in towers, which never seem there to
have been favourite forms of architectural display. That of St. André le
Bas at Vienne has already been alluded to, but this at Puissalicon
(Woodcut No. 557) near Béziers is even more typical of the style, and
standing as it now does in solitary grandeur among the ruins of the
church once attached to it, has a dignity seldom possessed by such
monuments. In style it resembles the towers of Italy more than any found
farther north, but it is not without peculiarities that point to a
different mode of elaborating this peculiar feature from anything found
elsewhere. As a design its principal defect seems to be a want of
lightness in the upper storey. The single circular opening there is a
mistake in a building gradually growing lighter towards its summit.
[Illustration: 557. Tower at Puissalicon. (From Renouvier.)]
These towers were very seldom, if ever, attached symmetrically to the
churches. When height was made an object, it was more frequently
attained by carrying up the dome at the intersection of the choir with
the nave. At Arles this is done by a heavy square tower, gradually
diminishing, but still massive to the top; but in most instances the
square becomes an octagon, and this again passes into a circle, which
terminates the composition. One of the best specimens of this class of
domes, if they may be so called, is the church of Cruas (Woodcut No.
558), where these parts are pleasingly subordinated, and form, with the
apses on which they rest, a very beautiful composition. The defect is
the tiled roofs or offsets at the junction of the various storeys, which
give an appearance of weakness, as if the upper parts could slide, like
the joints of a telescope, one into the other. This could easily be
avoided, and probably was so in the original design. If this were done,
we have here the principle of a more pleasing crowning member at an
intersection than was afterwards used in pointed architecture, and
capable of being applied to domes of any extent.
CLOISTERS.
Nearly all, and certainly all the more important churches of which we
have been speaking, were collegiate, and in such establishments the
cloister forms as important a part as the church itself, and frequently
the more beautiful object of the two. In our own cold wet climate the
cloisters lose much of their appropriateness; still, they always were
used, and always with a pleasing effect; but in the warm sunny South
their charm is increased tenfold. The artists seem to have felt this,
and to have devoted a large share of their attention to these objects—
creating, in fact, a new style of architecture for this special purpose.
[Illustration: 558. Church at Cruas. (From Taylor and Nodier.)]
With us the arcades of a cloister are generally, if not always, a range
of unglazed windows, presenting the same features as those of the
church, which, though beautiful when filled with glass, are somewhat out
of place without that indispensable adjunct. In the South the cloister
is never a window, or anything in the least approaching to it in design,
but a range of small and elegant pillars, sometimes single, sometimes
coupled, generally alternately so, and supporting arches of light and
elegant design, all the features being of a character suited to the
place where they are used, and to that only.
[Illustration: 559. Cloister at Fontifroide. (From Taylor and Nodier.)]
[Illustration:
560. 561.
Capitals in Cloister, Elne. (From Taylor and Nodier.)
]
The cloister at Arles has long occupied the attention of travellers and
artists, and perhaps no building, or part of one, in this style has been
so often drawn or so much admired. Two sides of it are of the same age
and in the same style as the porch (Woodcut No. 548), and equally
beautiful. The other two are somewhat later, the columns supporting
pointed instead of round arches. At Aix there is another similar to that
at Arles, and fragments of such colonnades are found in many places.
That of Fontifroide (Woodcut No. 559) is one of the most complete and
perfect, and some of its capitals are treated with a freedom and
boldness, and at the same time with an elegance, not often rivalled
anywhere. They even excel—for the purpose at least—the German capitals
of the same age. Those at Elne are more curious than those of any other
cloister in France, so far as I know—some of them showing so distinct an
imitation of Egyptian work as instantly to strike any one at all
familiar with that style. Yet they are treated with a lightness and
freedom so wholly mediæval as to show that it is possible to copy the
spirit without a servile adherence to the form. Here, as in all the
examples, every capital is different—the artists revelling in freedom
from restraint, and sparing neither time nor pains. We find in these
examples a delicacy of handling and refinement of feeling far more
characteristic of the South than of the ruder North, and must admit that
their architects have in these cloisters produced objects with which
nothing of the kind we have in England can compete.