CHAPTER IV.

INTERPRETATIONS.

1. It is the admitted privilege of a custode who loves his cathedral

to depreciate, in its comparison, all the other cathedrals of his

country that resemble, and all the edifices on the globe that differ

from it. But I love too many cathedrals--though I have never had the

happiness of becoming the custode of even one--to permit myself the

easy and faithful exercise of the privilege in question; and I must

vindicate my candour, and my judgment, in the outset, by confessing

that the cathedral of AMIENS has nothing to boast of in the way of

towers,--that its central flèche is merely the pretty caprice of a

village carpenter,--that the total structure is in dignity inferior to

Chartres, in sublimity to Beauvais, in decorative splendour to Rheims,

and in loveliness of figure-sculpture to Bourges. It has nothing like

the artful pointing and moulding of the arcades of Salisbury--nothing

of the might of Durham;--no Dædalian inlaying like Florence, no glow

of mythic fantasy like Verona. And yet, in all, and more than these,

ways, outshone or overpowered, the cathedral of Amiens deserves the

name given it by M. Viollet le Duc--

"The Parthenon of Gothic Architecture."[40]

2. Of Gothic, mind you; Gothic clear of Roman tradition, and of

Arabian taint; Gothic pure, authoritative, unsurpassable, and

unaccusable;--its proper principles of structure being once understood

and admitted.

[Footnote 40: Of French Architecture, accurately, in the place quoted,

"Dictionary of Architecture," vol. i. p. 71; but in the article

"Cathédrale," it is called (vol. ii. p. 330) "l'église _ogivale_ par

excellence."]

No well-educated traveller is now without some consciousness of the

meaning of what is commonly and rightly called "purity of style," in

the modes of art which have been practised by civilized nations; and

few are unaware of the distinctive aims and character of Gothic. The

purpose of a good Gothic builder was to raise, with the native stone

of the place he had to build in, an edifice as high and as spacious as

he could, with calculable and visible security, in no protracted and

wearisome time, and with no monstrous or oppressive compulsion of

human labour.

He did not wish to exhaust in the pride of a single city the energies of

a generation, or the resources of a kingdom; he built for Amiens with

the strength and the exchequer of Amiens; with chalk from the cliffs of

the Somme,[41] and under the orders of two successive bishops, one of

whom directed the foundations of the edifice, and the other gave thanks

in it for its completion. His object, as a designer, in common with all

the sacred builders of his time in the North, was to admit as much light

into the building as was consistent with the comfort of it; to make its

structure intelligibly admirable, but not curious or confusing; and to

enrich and enforce the understood structure with ornament sufficient for

its beauty, yet yielding to no wanton enthusiasm in expenditure, nor

insolent in giddy or selfish ostentation of skill; and finally, to make

the external sculpture of its walls and gates at once an alphabet and

epitome of the religion, by the knowledge and inspiration of which an

acceptable worship might be rendered, within those gates, to the Lord

whose Fear was in His Holy Temple, and whose seat was in Heaven.

[Footnote 41: It was a universal principle with the French builders of

the great ages to use the stones of their quarries as they lay in the

bed; if the beds were thick, the stones were used of their full

thickness--if thin, of their necessary thinness, adjusting them with

beautiful care to directions of thrust and weight. The natural blocks

were never sawn, only squared into fitting, the whole native strength

and crystallization of the stone being thus kept unflawed--"_ne

dédoublant jamais_ une pierre. Cette méthode est excellente, elle

conserve à la pierre toute sa force naturelle,--tous ses moyens de

résistance." See M. Viollet le Duc, Article "Construction"

(Matériaux), vol. iv. p. 129. He adds the very notable fact that, _to

this day, in seventy departments of France, the use of the stone-saw

is unknown_.]

3. It is not easy for the citizen of the modern aggregate of bad

building, and ill-living held in check by constables, which we call a

town,--of which the widest streets are devoted by consent to the

encouragement of vice, and the narrow ones to the concealment of

misery,--not easy, I say, for the citizen of any such mean city to

understand the feeling of a burgher of the Christian ages to his

cathedral. For him, the quite simply and frankly-believed text, "Where

two or three are gathered in My name, there am I in the midst of

them," was expanded into the wider promise to many honest and

industrious persons gathered in His name--"They shall be my people and

I will be their God";--deepened in his reading of it, by some lovely

local and simply affectionate faith that Christ, as he was a Jew among

Jews, and a Galilean among Galileans, was also, in His nearness to

any--even the poorest--group of disciples, as one of their nation; and

that their own "Beau Christ d'Amiens" was as true a compatriot to them

as if He had been born of a Picard maiden.

4. It is to be remembered, however--and this is a theological point on

which depended much of the structural development of the northern

basilicas--that the part of the building in which the Divine presence

was believed to be constant, as in the Jewish Holy of Holies, was only

the enclosed choir; in front of which the aisles and transepts might

become the King's Hall of Justice, as in the presence-chamber of Christ;

and whose high altar was guarded always from the surrounding eastern

aisles by a screen of the most finished workmanship; while from those

surrounding aisles branched off a series of radiating chapels or cells,

each dedicated to some separate saint. This conception of the company of

Christ with His saints, (the eastern chapel of all being the Virgin's,)

was at the root of the entire disposition of the apse with its

supporting and dividing buttresses and piers; and the architectural form

can never be well delighted in, unless in some sympathy with the

spiritual imagination out of which it rose. We talk foolishly and

feebly of symbols and types: in old Christian architecture, every part

is _literal_: the cathedral _is_ for its builders the House of God;--it

is surrounded, like an earthly king's, with minor lodgings for the

servants; and the glorious carvings of the exterior walls and interior

wood of the choir, which an English rector would almost instinctively

think of as done for the glorification of the canons, was indeed the

Amienois carpenter's way of making his Master-carpenter

comfortable,[42]--nor less of showing his own native and insuperable

virtue of carpenter, before God and man.

[Footnote 42: The philosophic reader is quite welcome to 'detect' and

'expose' as many carnal motives as he pleases, besides the good

ones,--competition with neighbour Beauvais--comfort to sleepy

heads--solace to fat sides, and the like. He will find at last that no

quantity of competition or comfort-seeking will do anything the like

of this carving now;--still less his own philosophy, whatever its

species: and that it was indeed the little mustard seed of faith in

the heart, with a very notable quantity of honesty besides in the

habit and disposition, that made all the rest grow together for good.]

5. Whatever you wish to see, or are forced to leave unseen, at Amiens,

if the overwhelming responsibilities of your existence, and the

inevitable necessities of precipitate locomotion in their fulfilment,

have left you so much as one quarter of an hour, not out of

breath--for the contemplation of the capital of Picardy, give it

wholly to the cathedral choir. Aisles and porches, lancet windows and

roses, you can see elsewhere as well as here--but such carpenter's

work, you cannot. It is late,--fully developed flamboyant just past

the fifteenth century--and has some Flemish stolidity mixed with the

playing French fire of it; but wood-carving was the Picard's joy from

his youth up, and, so far as I know, there is nothing else so

beautiful cut out of the goodly trees of the world.

Sweet and young-grained wood it is: oak, _trained_ and chosen for such

work, sound now as four hundred years since. Under the carver's hand it

seems to cut like clay, to fold like silk, to grow like living branches,

to leap like living flame. Canopy crowning canopy, pinnacle piercing

pinnacle--it shoots and wreathes itself into an enchanted glade,

inextricable, imperishable, fuller of leafage than any forest, and

fuller of story than any book.[43]

[Footnote 43: Arnold Boulin, master-joiner (menuisier) at Amiens,

solicited the enterprise, and obtained it in the first months of the

year 1508. A contract was drawn and an agreement made with him for the

construction of one hundred and twenty stalls with historical

subjects, high backings, crownings, and pyramidal canopies. It was

agreed that the principal executor should have seven sous of Tournay

(a little less than the sou of France) a day, for himself and his

apprentice, (threepence a day the two--say a shilling a week the

master, and sixpence a week the man,) and for the superintendence of

the whole work, twelve crowns a year, at the rate of twenty-four sous

the crown; (_i.e._, twelve shillings a year). The salary of the simple

workman was only to be three sous a day. For the sculptures and

histories of the seats, the bargain was made separately with Antoine

Avernier, image-cutter, residing at Amiens, at the rate of thirty-two

sous (sixteen pence) the piece. Most of the wood came from Clermont en

Beauvoisis, near Amiens; the finest, for the bas-reliefs, from

Holland, by St. Valery and Abbeville. The Chapter appointed four of

its own members to superintend the work: Jean Dumas, Jean Fabres,

Pierre Vuaille, and Jean Lenglaché, to whom my authors (canons both)

attribute the choice of subjects, the placing of them, and the

initiation of the workmen 'au sens véritable et plus élevé de la Bible

ou des legendes, et portant quelque fois le simple savoir-faire de

l'ouvrier jusqu'à la hauteur du génie du théologien.'

Without pretending to apportion the credit of savoir-faire and

theology in the business, we have only to observe that the whole

company, master, apprentices, workmen, image-cutter, and four canons,

got well into traces, and set to work on the 3rd of July, 1508, in the

great hall of the évêché, which was to be the workshop and studio

during the whole time of the business. In the following year, another

menuisier, Alexander Huet, was associated with the body, to carry on

the stalls on the right hand of the choir, while Arnold Boulin went on

with those on the left. Arnold, leaving his new associate in command

for a time, went to Beauvais and St. Riquier, to see the woodwork

there; and in July of 1511 both the masters went to Rouen together,

'pour étudier les chaires de la cathédrale.' The year before, also,

two Franciscans, monks of Abbeville, 'expert and renowned in working

in wood,' had been called by the Amiens chapter to give their opinion

on things in progress, and had each twenty sous for his opinion, and

travelling expenses.

In 1516, another and an important name appears on the accounts,--that

of Jean Trupin, 'a simple workman at the wages of three sous a day,'

but doubtless a good and spirited carver, whose true portrait it is

without doubt, and by his own hand, that forms the elbow-rest, of the

85th stall (right hand, nearest apse), beneath which is cut his name

JHAN TRUPIN, and again under the 92nd stall, with the added wish, 'Jan

Trupin, God take care of thee' (_Dieu te pourvoie_).

The entire work was ended on St. John's Day, 1522, without (so far as

we hear) any manner of interruption by dissension, death, dishonesty,

or incapacity, among its fellow-workmen, master or servant. And the

accounts being audited by four members of the Chapter, it was found

that the total expense was 9488 livres, 11 sous, and 3 obols

(décimes), or 474 napoleons, 11 sous, 3 décimes of modern French

money, or roughly four hundred sterling English pounds.

For which sum, you perceive, a company of probably six or eight good

workmen, old and young, had been kept merry and busy for fourteen

years; and this that you see--left for substantial result and gift to

you.

I have not examined the carvings so as to assign, with any decision, the

several masters' work; but in general the flower and leaf design in the

traceries will be by the two head menuisiers, and their apprentices; the

elaborate Scripture histories by Avernier, with variously completing

incidental grotesque by Trupin; and the joining and fitting by the

common workmen. No nails are used,--all is morticed, and so beautifully

that the joints have not moved to this day, and are still almost

imperceptible. The four terminal pyramids 'you might take for giant

pines forgotten for six centuries on the soil where the church was

built; they might be looked on at first as a wild luxury of sculpture

and hollow traceries--but examined in analysis they are marvels of order

and system in construction, uniting all the lightness, strength, and

grace of the most renowned spires in the last epoch of the Middle ages.'

The above particulars are all extracted--or simply translated, out of

the excellent description of the "Stalles et les Clôtures du Choeur"

of the Cathedral of Amiens, by MM. les Chanoines Jourdain et Duval

(Amiens, Vv. Alfred Caron, 1867). The accompanying lithographic

outlines are exceedingly good, and the reader will find the entire

series of subjects indicated with precision and brevity, both for the

woodwork and the external veil of the choir, of which I have no room

to speak in this traveller's summary.]

6. I have never been able to make up my mind which was really the best

way of approaching the cathedral for the first time. If you have plenty

of leisure, and the day is fine, and you are not afraid of an hour's

walk, the really right thing to do is to walk down the main street of

the old town, and across the river, and quite out to the chalk hill[44]

out of which the citadel is half quarried--half walled;--and walk to the

top of that, and look down into the citadel's dry 'ditch,'--or, more

truly, dry valley of death, which is about as deep as a glen in

Derbyshire, (or, more precisely, the upper part of the 'Happy Valley'

at Oxford, above Lower Hincksey,) and thence across to the cathedral and

ascending slopes of the city; so, you will understand the real height

and relation of tower and town:--then, returning, find your way to the

Mount Zion of it by any narrow cross streets and chance bridges you

can--the more winding and dirty the streets, the better; and whether you

come first on west front or apse, you will think them worth all the

trouble you have had to reach them.

[Footnote 44: The strongest and finally to be defended part of the

earliest city was on this height.]

7. But if the day be dismal, as it may sometimes be, even in France,

of late years,--or if you cannot or will not walk, which may also

chance, for all our athletics and lawn-tennis,--or if you must really

go to Paris this afternoon, and only mean to see all you can in an

hour or two,--then, supposing that, notwithstanding these weaknesses,

you are still a nice sort of person, for whom it is of some

consequence which way you come at a pretty thing, or begin to look at

it--I _think_ the best way is to walk from the Hotel de France or the

Place de Perigord, up the Street of Three Pebbles, towards the railway

station--stopping a little as you go, so as to get into a cheerful

temper, and buying some bonbons or tarts for the children in one of

the charming patissiers' shops on the left. Just past them, ask for

the theatre; and just past that, you will find, also on the left,

three open arches, through which you can turn, passing the Palais de

Justice, and go straight up to the south transept, which has really

something about it to please everybody. It is simple and severe at the

bottom, and daintily traceried and pinnacled at the top, and yet seems

all of a piece--though it isn't--and everybody _must_ like the taper

and transparent fretwork of the flèche above, which seems to bend to

the west wind,--though it doesn't--at least, the bending is a long

habit, gradually yielded into, with gaining grace and submissiveness,

during the last three hundred years. And, coming quite up to the

porch, everybody must like the pretty French Madonna in the middle of

it, with her head a little aside, and her nimbus switched a little

aside too, like a becoming bonnet. A Madonna in decadence she is,

though, for all, or rather by reason of all, her prettiness, and

her gay soubrette's smile; and she has no business there, neither, for

this is St. Honoré's porch, not hers; and grim and grey St. Honoré

used to stand there to receive you,--he is banished now to the north

porch, where nobody ever goes in. This was done long ago, in the

fourteenth-century days, when the people first began to find

Christianity too serious, and devised a merrier faith for France, and

would have bright-glancing, soubrette Madonnas everywhere--letting

their own dark-eyed Joan of Arc be burned for a witch. And

thenceforward, things went their merry way, straight on, 'ça allait,

ça ira,' to the merriest days of the guillotine.

But they could still carve, in the fourteenth century, and the Madonna

and her hawthorn-blossom lintel are worth your looking at,--much more

the field above, of sculpture as delicate and more calm, which tells

St. Honoré's own story, little talked of now in his Parisian faubourg.

8. I will not keep you just now to tell St. Honoré's story--(only too

glad to leave you a little curious about it, if it were

possible)[45]--for certainly you will be impatient to go into the

church; and cannot enter it to better advantage than by this door. For

all cathedrals of any mark have nearly the same effect when you enter at

the west door; but I know no other which shows so much of its nobleness

from the south interior transept; the opposite rose being of exquisite

fineness in tracery, and lovely in lustre; and the shafts of the

transept aisles forming wonderful groups with those of the choir and

nave; also, the apse shows its height better, as it opens to you when

you advance from the transept into the mid-nave, than when it is seen at

once from the west end of the nave; where it is just possible for an

irreverent person rather to think the nave narrow, than the apse high.

Therefore, if you let me guide you, go in at this south transept door,

(and put a sou into every beggar's box who asks it there,--it is none of

your business whether they should be there or not, nor whether they

deserve to have the sou,--be sure only that you yourself deserve to have

it to give; and give it prettily, and not as if it burnt your fingers).

Then, being once inside, take what first sensation and general glimpse

of it pleases you--promising the custode to come back to _see_ it

properly; (only then mind you keep the promise;) and in this first

quarter of an hour, seeing only what fancy bid you--but at least, as I

said, the apse from mid-nave, and all the traverses of the building,

from its centre. Then you will know, when you go outside again, what the

architect was working for, and what his buttresses and traceries mean.

For the outside of a French cathedral, except for its sculpture, is

always to be thought of as the wrong side of the stuff, in which you

find how the threads go that produce the inside or right-side pattern.

And if you have no wonder in you for that choir and its encompassing

circlet of light, when you look up into it from the cross-centre, you

need not travel farther in search of cathedrals, for the waiting-room of

any station is a better place for you;--but, if it amaze you and delight

you at first, then, the more you know of it, the more it will amaze. For

it is not possible for imagination and mathematics together, to do

anything nobler or stronger than that procession of window, with

material of glass and stone--nor anything which shall look loftier, with

so temperate and prudent measure of actual loftiness.

[Footnote 45: See, however, pages 32 and 130 (§§ 36, 112-114) of the

octavo edition of 'The Two Paths.']

9. From the pavement to the keystone of its vault is but 132 French

feet--about 150 English. Think only--you who have been in

Switzerland,--the Staubbach falls _nine_ hundred! Nay, Dover cliff

under the castle, just at the end of the Marine Parade, is twice as

high; and the little cockneys parading to military polka on the

asphalt below, think themselves about as tall as it, I suppose,--nay,

what with their little lodgings and stodgings and podgings about it,

they have managed to make it look no bigger than a moderate-sized

limekiln. Yet it is twice the height of Amiens' apse!--and it takes

good building, with only such bits of chalk as one can quarry beside

Somme, to make your work stand half that height, for six hundred

years.

10. It takes good building, I say, and you may even aver the

best--that ever was, or is again likely for many a day to be, on the

unquaking and fruitful earth, where one could calculate on a pillar's

standing fast, once well set up; and where aisles of aspen, and

orchards of apple, and clusters of vine, gave type of what might be

most beautifully made sacred in the constancy of sculptured stone.

From the unhewn block set on end in the Druid's Bethel, to _this_

Lord's House and blue-vitrailed gate of Heaven, you have the entire

course and consummation of the Northern Religious Builder's passion

and art.

11. But, note further--and earnestly,--this apse of Amiens is not only

the best, but the very _first_ thing done _perfectly_ in its manner,

by Northern Christendom. In pages 323 and 327 of the sixth volume of

M. Viollet le Duc, you will find the exact history of the development

of these traceries through which the eastern light shines on you as

you stand, from the less perfect and tentative forms of Rheims: and so

momentary was the culmination of the exact rightness, that here, from

nave to transept--built only ten years later,--there is a little

change, not towards decline, but to a not quite necessary precision.

Where decline begins, one cannot, among the lovely fantasies that

succeeded, exactly say--but exactly, and indisputably, we know that

this apse of Amiens is the first virgin perfect work,--Parthenon also

in that sense,--of Gothic Architecture.

12. Who built it, shall we ask? God, and Man,--is the first and most

true answer. The stars in their courses built it, and the Nations.

Greek Athena labours here--and Roman Father Jove, and Guardian Mars.

The Gaul labours here, and the Frank: knightly Norman,--mighty

Ostrogoth,--and wasted anchorite of Idumea.

The actual Man who built it scarcely cared to tell you he did so; nor do

the historians brag of him. Any quantity of heraldries of knaves and

fainéants you may find in what they call their 'history': but this is

probably the first time you ever read the name of Robert of Luzarches. I

say he 'scarcely cared'--we are not sure that he cared at all. He

signed his name nowhere, that I can hear of. You may perhaps find some

recent initials cut by English remarkable visitors desirous of

immortality, here and there about the edifice, but Robert the

builder--or at least the Master of building, cut _his_ on no stone of

it. Only when, after his death, the headstone had been brought forth

with shouting, Grace unto it, this following legend was written,

recording all who had part or lot in the labour, within the middle of

the labyrinth then inlaid in the pavement of the nave. You must read it

trippingly on the tongue: it was rhymed gaily for you by pure French

gaiety, not the least like that of the Théâtre de Folies.

"En l'an de Grace mil deux cent

Et vingt, fu l'oeuvre de cheens

Premièrement encomenchie.

A donc y ert de cheste evesquie

Evrart, évêque bénis;

Et, Roy de France, Loys

Qui fut fils Phelippe le Sage.

Qui maistre y ert de l'oeuvre

Maistre Robert estoit només

Et de Luzarches surnomés.

Maistre Thomas fu après lui

De Cormont. Et après, son filz

Maistre Regnault, qui mestre

Fist a chest point chi cheste lectre

Que l'incarnation valoit

Treize cent, moins douze, en faloit."

13. I have written the numerals in letters, else the metre would not

have come clear: they were really in figures thus, "II C. et XX,"

"XIII C. moins XII". I quote the inscription from M. l'Abbé Rozé's

admirable little book, "Visite à la Cathédrale d'Amiens,"--Sup. Lib.

de Mgr l'Evêque d'Amiens, 1877,--which every grateful traveller should

buy, for I am only going to steal a little bit of it here and there. I

only wish there had been a translation of the legend to steal, too;

for there are one or two points, both of idea and chronology, in it,

that I should have liked the Abbé's opinion of.

The main purport of the rhyme, however, we perceive to be, line for

line, as follows:--

"In the year of Grace, Twelve Hundred

And twenty, the work, then falling to ruin,

Was first begun again.

Then was, of this Bishopric

Everard the blessed Bishop.

And, King of France, Louis,

Who was son to Philip the Wise.

He who was Master of the Work

Was called Master Robert,

And called, beyond that, of Luzarches.

Master Thomas was after him,

Of Cormont. And after him, his son,

Master Reginald, who to be put

Made--at this point--this reading.

When the Incarnation was of account

Thirteen hundred, less twelve, which it failed of."

In which legend, while you stand where once it was written (it was

removed--to make the old pavement more polite--in the year, I

sorrowfully observe, of my own earliest tour on the Continent, 1825,

when I had not yet turned my attention to Ecclesiastical

Architecture), these points are noticeable--if you have still a little

patience.

14. 'The work'--_i.e._, the Work of Amiens in especial, her cathedral,

was 'déchéant,' falling to ruin, for the--I cannot at once say--fourth,

fifth, or what time,--in the year 1220. For it was a wonderfully

difficult matter for little Amiens to get this piece of business fairly

done, so hard did the Devil pull against her. She built her first

Bishop's church (scarcely more than St. Firmin's tomb-chapel) about the

year 350, just outside the railway station on the road to Paris;[46]

then, after being nearly herself destroyed, chapel and all, by the Frank

invasion, having recovered, and converted her Franks, she built another

and a properly called cathedral, where this one stands now, under

Bishop St. Save (St. Sauve, or Salve). But even this proper cathedral

was only of wood, and the Normans burnt it in 881. Rebuilt, it stood for

200 years; but was in great part destroyed by lightning in 1019. Rebuilt

again, it and the town were more or less burnt together by lightning, in

1107,--my authority says calmly, "un incendie provoqué par la même cause

détruisit _la ville_, et une partie de la cathédrale." The 'partie'

being rebuilt once more, the whole was again reduced to ashes, "réduite

en cendre par le feu de ciel en 1218, ainsi que tous les titres, les

martyrologies, les calendriers, et les Archives de l'Evêché et du

Chapitre."

[Footnote 46: At St. Acheul. See the first chapter of this book, and

the "Description Historique de la Cathédrale d'Amiens," by A. P. M.

Gilbert. 8vo, Amiens, 1833, pp. 5-7.]

15. It was the fifth cathedral, I count, then, that lay in 'ashes,'

according to Mons. Gilbert--in ruin certainly--déchéant;--and ruin of

a very discouraging completeness it would have been, to less lively

townspeople--in 1218. But it was rather of a stimulating completeness

to Bishop Everard and his people--the ground well cleared for them, as

it were: and lightning (feu de l'enfer, not du ciel, recognized for a

diabolic plague, as in Egypt), was to be defied to the pit. They only

took two years, you see, to pull themselves together; and to work they

went, in 1220, they, and their bishop, and their king, and their

Robert of Luzarches. And this, that roofs you, was what their hands

found to do with their might.

16. Their king was 'à-donc,' 'at that time,' Louis VIII., who is

especially further called the son of Philip of August, or Philip the

Wise, because his father was not dead in 1220; but must have resigned

the practical kingdom to his son, as his own father had done to him;

the old and wise king retiring to his chamber, and thence silently

guiding his son's hands, very gloriously, yet for three years.

But, farther--and this is the point on which chiefly I would have

desired the Abbé's judgment--Louis VIII. died of fever at Montpensier in

1226. And the entire conduct of the main labour of the cathedral, and

the chief glory of its service, as we shall hear presently, was _Saint_

Louis's; for a time of forty-four years. And the inscription was put "à

ce point ci" by the last architect, six years after St. Louis's death.

How is it that the great and holy king is not named?

17. I must not, in this traveller's brief, lose time in conjectural

answers to the questions which every step here will raise from the

ravaged shrine. But this is a very solemn one; and must be kept in our

hearts, till we may perhaps get clue to it. One thing only we are sure

of,--that at least the _due_ honour--alike by the sons of Kings and

sons of Craftsmen--is given always to their fathers; and that

apparently the chief honour of all is given here to Philip the Wise.

From whose house, not of parliament but of peace, came, in the years

when this temple was first in building, an edict indeed of

peace-making: "That it should be criminal for any man to take

vengeance for an insult or injury till forty days after the commission

of the offence--and then only with the approbation of the Bishop of

the Diocese." Which was perhaps a wiser effort to end the Feudal

system in its Saxon sense,[47] than any of our recent projects for

ending it in the Norman one.

[Footnote 47: Feud, Saxon faedh, low Latin Faida (Scottish 'fae,'

English 'foe,' derivative), Johnson. Remember also that the root of

Feud, in its Norman sense of land-allotment, is _foi_, not _fee_,

which Johnson, old Tory as he was, did not observe--neither in general

does the modern Antifeudalist.]

18. "A ce point ci." The point, namely, of the labyrinth inlaid in the

cathedral floor; a recognized emblem of many things to the people, who

knew that the ground they stood on was holy, as the roof over their

head. Chiefly, to them, it was an emblem of noble human

life--strait-gated, narrow-walled, with infinite darknesses and the

"inextricabilis error" on either hand--and in the depth of it, the

brutal nature to be conquered.

19. This meaning, from the proudest heroic, and purest legislative, days

of Greece, the symbol had borne for all men skilled in her traditions:

to the schools of craftsmen the sign meant further their craft's

noblesse, and pure descent from the divinely-terrestrial skill of

Dædalus, the labyrinth-builder, and the first sculptor of imagery

_pathetic_[48] with human life and death.

[Footnote 48:

"Tu quoque, magnam

Partem opere in tanto, sineret dolor, Icare, haberes,

Bis conatus erat casus effingere in auro,--

Bis patriæ cecidere manus."

There is, advisedly, no pathos allowed in primary sculpture. Its heroes

conquer without exultation, and die without sorrow.]

20. Quite the most beautiful sign of the power of true

Christian-Catholic faith is this continual acknowledgment by it of the

brotherhood--nay, more, the fatherhood, of the elder nations who had

not seen Christ; but had been filled with the Spirit of God; and

obeyed, according to their knowledge, His unwritten law. The pure

charity and humility of this temper are seen in all Christian art,

according to its strength and purity of race; but best, to the full,

seen and interpreted by the three great Christian-Heathen poets,

Dante, Douglas of Dunkeld,[49] and George Chapman. The prayer with

which the last ends his life's work is, so far as I know, the

perfectest and deepest expression of Natural Religion given us in

literature; and if you can, pray it here--standing on the spot where

the builder once wrote the history of the Parthenon of Christianity.

[Footnote 49: See 'Fors Clavigera,' Letter LXI., p. 22.]

21. "I pray thee, Lord, the Father, and the Guide of our reason, that

we may remember the nobleness with which Thou hast adorned us; and

that Thou wouldst be always on our right hand and on our left,[50] in

the motion of our own Wills: that so we may be purged from the

contagion of the Body and the Affections of the Brute, and overcome

them and rule; and use, as it becomes men to use them, for

instruments. And then, that Thou wouldst be in Fellowship with us for

the careful correction of our reason, and for its conjunction by the

light of truth with the things that truly are.

[Footnote 50: Thus, the command to the children of Israel "that they go

forward" is to their own wills. They obeying, the sea retreats, _but not

before_ they dare to advance into it. _Then_, the waters are a wall unto

them, on their right hand and their left.]

"And in the third place, I pray to Thee the Saviour, that

Thou wouldst utterly cleanse away the closing gloom from

the eyes of our souls, that we may know well who is to be held

for God, and who for mortal. Amen."[51]

[Footnote 51: The original is written in Latin only. "Supplico tibi,

Domine, Pater et Dux rationis nostræ, ut nostræ Nobilitatis

recordemur, quâ tu nos ornasti: et ut tu nobis presto sis, ut iis qui

per sese moventur; ut et a Corporis contagio, Brutorumque affectuum

repurgemur, eosque superemus, atque regamus; et, sicut decet, pro

instruments iis utamur. Deinde, ut nobis adjuncto sis; ad accuratam

rationis nostræ correctionem, et conjunctionem cum iis qui verè sunt,

per lucem veritatis. Et tertium, Salvatori supplex oro, ut ab oculis

animorum nostrorum caliginem prorsus abstergas; ut norimus bene, qui

Deus, aut Mortalis habendus. Amen."]

22. And having prayed this prayer, or at least, read it with honest

wishing, (which if you cannot, there is no hope of your at present

taking pleasure in any human work of large faculty, whether poetry,

painting, or sculpture,) we may walk a little farther westwards down

the nave, where, in the middle of it, but only a few yards from its

end, two flat stones (the custode will show you them), one a little

farther back than the other, are laid over the graves of the two great

bishops, all whose strength of life was given, with the builder's, to

raise this temple. Their actual graves have not been disturbed; but

the tombs raised over them, once and again removed, are now set on

your right and left hand as you look back to the apse, under the third

arch between the nave and aisles.

23. Both are of bronze, cast at one flow--and with insuperable, in

some respects inimitable, skill in the caster's art.

"Chefs-d'oeuvre de fonte,--le tout fondu d'un seul jet, et

admirablement."[52] There are only two other such tombs left in

France, those of the children of St. Louis. All others of their

kind--and they were many in every great cathedral of France--were

first torn from the graves they covered, to destroy the memory of

France's dead; and then melted down into sous and centimes, to buy

gunpowder and absinthe with for her living,--by the Progressive Mind

of Civilization in her first blaze of enthusiasm and new light, from

1789 to 1800.

[Footnote 52: Viollet le Duc, vol. viii., p. 256. He adds: "L'une

d'elles est comme art" (meaning general art of sculpture), "un

monument du premier ordre;" but this is only partially true--also I

find a note in M. Gilbert's account of them, p. 126: "Les deux doigts

qui manquent, à la main droite de l'évêque Gaudefroi paraissent être

un défaut survenu à la fonte." See further, on these monuments, and

those of St. Louis' children, Viollet le Duc, vol, ix., pp. 61, 62.]

The children's tombs, one on each side of the altar of St. Denis, are

much smaller than these, though wrought more beautifully. These beside

you are the _only two Bronze tombs of her Men of the great ages_, left

in France!

24. And they are the tombs of the pastors of her people, who built for

her the first perfect temple to her God. The Bishop Everard's is on

your right, and has engraved round the border of it this

inscription:[53]--

"Who fed the people, who laid the foundations of this

Structure, to whose care the City was given,

Here, in ever-breathing balm of fame, rests Everard.

A man compassionate to the afflicted, the widow's protector, the orphan's

Guardian. Whom he could, he recreated with gifts.

To words of men,

If gentle, a lamb; if violent, a lion; if proud, biting steel."

[Footnote 53: I steal again from the Abbé Rozé the two

inscriptions,--with his introductory notice of the evilly-inspired

interference with them.

"La tombe d'Evrard de Fouilloy, (died 1222,) coulée en bronze en

plein-relief, était supportée dès le principe, par des monstres

engagés dans une maçonnerie remplissant le dessous du monument, pour

indiquer que cet évêque avait posé les fondements de la Cathédrale. Un

_architecte malheureusement inspiré_ a osé arracher la maçonnerie,

pour qu'on ne vit plus la main du prélat fondateur, à la base de

l'édifice.

"On lit, sur la bordure, l'inscription suivante en beaux caractères du

XIII^e siècle:

"'Qui populum pavit, qui fundam[=e]ta locavit

Hui[=u]s structure, cuius fuit urbs data cure

Hic redolens nardus, famâ requiescit Ewardus,

Vir pius ahflictis, vidvis tutela, relictis

Custos, quos poterat recreabat munere; vbis,

Mitib agnus erat, tumidis leo, lima supbis.'

"Geoffrey d'Eu (died 1237) est représenté comme son prédécesseur en

habits épiscopaux, mais le dessous du bronze supporté par des chimères

est évidé, ce prélat ayant élevé l'édifice jusqu'aux voûtes. Voici la

légende gravée sur la bordure:

"'Ecce premunt humile Gaufridi membra cubile.

Seu minus aut simile nobis parat omnibus ille;

Quem laurus gemina decoraverat, in medicinâ

Lege q[=u] divina, decuerunt cornua bina;

Clare vir Augensis, quo sedes Ambianensis

Crevit in imensis; in coelis auctus, Amen, sis.'

Tout est à étudier dans ces deux monuments; tout y est d'un haut

intérêt, quant au dessin, à la sculpture, à l'agencement des ornements

et des draperies."

In saying above that Geoffroy of Eu returned thanks in the Cathedral

for its completion, I meant only that he had brought at least the

choir into condition for service: "Jusqu'aux voûtes" may or may not

mean that the vaulting was closed.]

English, at its best, in Elizabethan days, is a nobler language than

ever Latin was; but its virtue is in colour and tone, not in what may

be called metallic or crystalline condensation. And it is impossible

to translate the last line of this inscription in as few English

words. Note in it first that the Bishop's friends and enemies are

spoken of as in word, not act; because the swelling, or mocking, or

flattering, words of men are indeed what the meek of the earth must

know how to bear and to welcome;--their deeds, it is for kings and

knights to deal with: not but that the Bishops often took deeds in

hand also; and in actual battle they were permitted to strike with the

mace, but not with sword or lance--_i.e._, not to "shed blood"! For it

was supposed that a man might always recover from a mace-blow; (which,

however, would much depend on the bishop's mind who gave it). The

battle of Bouvines, quite one of the most important in mediæval

history, was won against the English, and against odds besides of

Germans, under their Emperor Otho, by two French bishops (Senlis and

Bayeux)--who both generalled the French King's line, and led its

charges. Our Earl of Salisbury surrendered to the Bishop of Bayeux in

person.

25. Note farther, that quite one of the deadliest and most diabolic

powers of evil words, or, rightly so called, blasphemy, has been

developed in modern days in the effect of sometimes quite innocently

meant and enjoyed 'slang.' There are two kinds of slang, in the essence

of it: one 'Thieves' Latin'--the special language of rascals, used for

concealment; the other, one might perhaps best call Louts' Latin!--the

lowering or insulting words invented by vile persons to bring good

things, in their own estimates, to their own level, or beneath it. The

really worst power of this kind of blasphemy is in its often making it

impossible to use plain words without a degrading or ludicrous attached

sense:--thus I could not end my translation of this epitaph, as the old

Latinist could, with the exactly accurate image "to the proud, a

file"--because of the abuse of the word in lower English, retaining,

however, quite shrewdly, the thirteenth-century idea. But the _exact_

force of the symbol here is in its allusion to jewellers' work, filing

down facets. A proud man is often also a precious one: and may be made

brighter in surface, and the purity of his inner self shown, by good

_filing_.

26. Take it all in all, the perfect duty of a Bishop is expressed in

these six Latin lines,--au mieux mieux--beginning with his pastoral

office--_Feed_ my sheep--qui _pavit_ populum. And be assured, good

reader, these ages never could have told you what a Bishop's, or any

other man's, duty was, unless they had each man in his place both done

it well--and seen it well done. The Bishop Geoffroy's tomb is on your

left, and its inscription is:

"Behold, the limbs of Godfrey press their lowly bed,

Whether He is preparing for us all one less than, or like it.

Whom the twin laurels adorned, in medicine

And in divine law, the dual crests became him.

Bright-shining man of Eu, by whom the throne of Amiens

Rose into immensity, be _thou_ increased in Heaven."

Amen.

And now at last--this reverence done and thanks paid--we will turn

from these tombs, and go out at one of the western doors--and so see

gradually rising above us the immensity of the three porches, and of

the thoughts engraved in them.

27. What disgrace or change has come upon them, I will not tell you

to-day--except only the 'immeasurable' loss of the great old

foundation-steps, open, sweeping broad from side to side for all who

came; unwalled, undivided, sunned all along by the westering day,

lighted only by the moon and the stars at night; falling steep and many

down the hillside--ceasing one by one, at last wide and few towards the

level--and worn by pilgrim feet, for six hundred years. So I once saw

them, and twice,--such things can now be never seen more.

Nor even of the west front itself, above, is much of the old masonry

left: but in the porches nearly all,--except the actual outside

facing, with its rose moulding, of which only a few flowers have been

spared here and there.[54] But the sculpture has been carefully and

honourably kept and restored to its place--pedestals or niches

restored here and there with clay; or some which you see white and

crude, re-carved entirely; nevertheless the impression you may receive

from the whole is still what the builder meant; and I will tell you

the order of its theology without further notices of its decay.

[Footnote 54: The horizontal lowest part of the moulding between the

northern and central porch is old. Compare its roses with the new ones

running round the arches above--and you will know what 'Restoration'

means.]

28. You will find it always well, in looking at any cathedral, to make

your quarters of the compass sure, in the beginning; and to remember

that, as you enter it, you are looking and advancing eastward; and

that if it has three entrance porches, that on your left in entering

is the northern, that on your right the southern. I shall endeavour in

all my future writing of architecture, to observe the simple law of

always calling the door of the north transept the north door; and that

on the same side of the west front, the northern door, and so of their

opposites. This will save, in the end, much printing and much

confusion, for a Gothic cathedral has, almost always, these five great

entrances; which may be easily, if at first attentively, recognized

under the titles of the Central door (or porch), the Northern door,

the Southern door, the North door, and the South door.

But when we use the terms right and left, we ought always

to use them as in going _out_ of the cathedral, or walking down the

nave,--the entire north side and aisles of the building being its

right side, and the south, its left,--these terms being only used well

and authoritatively, when they have reference either to the image of

Christ in the apse or on the rood, or else to the central statue,

whether of Christ, the Virgin, or a saint, in the west front. At

Amiens, this central statue, on the 'trumeau' or supporting and

dividing pillar of the central porch, is of Christ Immanuel,--God

_with_ us. On His right hand and His left, occupying the entire walls

of the central porch, are the apostles and the four greater prophets.

The twelve minor prophets stand side by side on the front, three on

each of its great piers.[55]

[Footnote 55: See now the plan at the end of this chapter.]

The northern porch is dedicated to St. Firmin, the first Christian

missionary to Amiens.

The southern porch, to the Virgin.

But these are both treated as withdrawn behind the great foundation of

Christ and the Prophets; and their narrow recesses partly conceal

their sculpture, until you enter them. What you have first to think

of, and read, is the scripture of the great central porch, and the

façade itself.

29. You have then in the centre of the front, the image of Christ

Himself, receiving you: "I am the Way, the truth and the life." And the

order of the attendant powers may be best understood by thinking of them

as placed on Christ's right and left hand: this being also the order

which the builder adopts in his Scripture history on the façade--so that

it is to be read from left to right--_i.e._ from Christ's left to

Christ's right, as _He_ sees it. Thus, therefore, following the order of

the great statues: first in the central porch, there are six apostles on

Christ's right hand, and six on His left. On His left hand, next to Him,

Peter; then in receding order, Andrew, James, John, Matthew, Simon; on

His right hand, next Him, Paul; and in receding order, James the Bishop,

Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas and Jude. These opposite ranks of the

Apostles occupy what may be called the apse or curved bay of the porch,

and form a nearly semicircular group, clearly visible as we approach.

But on the sides of the porch, outside the lines of apostles, and not

seen clearly till we enter the porch, are the four greater prophets. On

Christ's left, Isaiah and Jeremiah, on His right, Ezekiel and Daniel.

30. Then in front, along the whole façade--read in order from Christ's

left to His right--come the series of the twelve minor prophets, three

to each of the four piers of the temple, beginning at the south angle

with Hosea, and ending with Malachi.

As you look full at the façade in front, the statues which fill the

minor porches are either obscured in their narrower recesses or

withdrawn behind each other so as to be unseen. And the entire mass of

the front is seen, literally, as built on the foundation of the

Apostles and Prophets, Jesus Christ Himself being the chief

corner-stone. Literally _that_; for the receding Porch is a deep

'angulus,' and its mid-pillar is the 'Head of the Corner.'

Built on the foundation of the Apostles and Prophets, that is to say

of the Prophets who foretold _Christ_, and the Apostles who declared

Him. Though Moses was an Apostle, of _God_, he is not here--though

Elijah was a Prophet, of _God_, he is not here. The voice of the

entire building is that of the Heaven at the Transfiguration, "This is

my beloved Son, hear ye Him."

31. There is yet another and a greater prophet still, who, as it seems

at first, is not here. Shall the people enter the gates of the temple,

singing "Hosanna to the Son of _David_"; and see no image of His

father, then?--Christ Himself declare, "I am the root and the

offspring of David"; and yet the Root have no sign near it of its

Earth?

Not so. David and his Son are together. David is the pedestal of the

Christ.

32. We will begin our examination of the Temple front, therefore, with

this its goodly pedestal stone. The statue of David is only two-thirds

life-size, occupying the niche in front of the pedestal. He holds his

sceptre in his right hand, the scroll in his left. King and Prophet,

type of all Divinely right doing, and right claiming, and right

proclaiming, kinghood, for ever.

The pedestal of which this statue forms the fronting or Western

sculpture, is square, and on the two sides of it are two flowers in

vases, on its north side the lily, and on its south the rose. And the

entire monolith is one of the noblest pieces of Christian sculpture in

the world.

Above this pedestal comes a minor one, bearing in front of it a

tendril of vine which completes the floral symbolism of the whole. The

plant which I have called a lily is not the Fleur de Lys, nor the

Madonna's, but an ideal one with bells like the crown Imperial

(Shakespeare's type of 'lilies of all kinds'), representing the _mode

of growth_ of the lily of the valley, which could not be sculptured so

large in its literal form without appearing monstrous, and is exactly

expressed in this tablet--as it fulfils, together with the rose and

vine, its companions, the triple saying of Christ, "I am the Rose of

Sharon, and the Lily of the Valley." "I am the true Vine."

* * * * *

33. On the side of the upper stone are supporters of a different

character. Supporters,--not captives nor victims; the Cockatrice and

Adder. Representing the most active evil principles of the earth, as

in their utmost malignity; still, Pedestals of Christ, and even in

their deadly life, accomplishing His final will.

Both creatures are represented accurately in the mediæval traditional

form, the cockatrice half dragon, half cock; the deaf adder laying one

ear against the ground and stopping the other with her tail.

The first represents the infidelity of Pride. The cockatrice--king

serpent or highest serpent--saying that he _is_ God, and _will be_

God.

The second, the infidelity of Death. The adder (nieder or nether

snake) saying that he _is_ mud, and _will be_ mud.

34. Lastly, and above all, set under the feet of the statue

of Christ Himself, are the lion and dragon; the images of Carnal sin,

or _Human sin_, as distinguished from the Spiritual and Intellectual

sin of Pride, by which the angels also fell.

To desire kingship rather than servantship--the Cockatrice's sin, or

deaf Death rather than hearkening Life--the Adder's sin,--these are

both possible to all the intelligences of the universe. But the

distinctively Human sins, anger and lust, seeds in our race of their

perpetual sorrow--Christ in His own humanity, conquered; and conquers

in His disciples. Therefore His foot is on the heads of these; and the

prophecy, "Inculcabis super Leonem et Aspidem," is recognized always

as fulfilled in Him, and in all His true servants, according to the

height of their authority, and the truth of their power.

35. In this mystic sense, Alexander III. used the words, in restoring

peace to Italy, and giving forgiveness to her deadliest enemy, under

the porch of St. Mark's.[56] But the meaning of every act, as of every

art, of the Christian ages, lost now for three hundred years, cannot

but be in our own times read reversed, if at all, through the

counter-spirit which we now have reached; glorifying Pride and Avarice

as the virtues by which all things move and have their being--walking

after our own lusts as our sole guides to salvation, and foaming out

our own shame for the sole earthly product of our hands and lips.

[Footnote 56: See my abstract of the history of Barbarossa and

Alexander, in 'Fiction, Fair and Foul,' '_Nineteenth Century_,'

November, 1880, pp. 752 _seq._]

36. Of the statue of Christ, itself, I will not speak here at any

length, as no sculpture would satisfy, or ought to satisfy, the hope of

any loving soul that has learned to trust in Him; but at the time, it

was beyond what till then had been reached in sculptured tenderness; and

was known far and near as the "Beau Dieu d'Amiens."[57] Yet understood,

observe, just as clearly to be no more than a symbol of the Heavenly

Presence, as the poor coiling worms below were no more than symbols of

the demoniac ones. No _idol_, in our sense of the word--only a letter,

or sign of the Living Spirit,--which, however, was indeed conceived by

every worshipper as here meeting him at the temple gate: the Word of

Life, the King of Glory, and the Lord of Hosts.

[Footnote 57: See account, and careful drawing of it, in Viollet le

Duc--article "Christ," Dict. of Architecture, iii. 245.]

"Dominus Virtutum," "Lord of Virtues,"[58] is the best single rendering

of the idea conveyed to a well-taught disciple in the thirteenth

century by the words of the twenty-fourth Psalm.

[Footnote 58: See the circle of the Powers of the Heavens in the

Byzantine rendering. I. Wisdom; II. Thrones; III. Dominations; IV.

Angels; V. Archangels; VI. Virtues; VII. Potentates; VIII. Princes;

IX. Seraphim. In the Gregorian order, (Dante, Par. xxviii., Cary's

note,) the Angels and Archangels are separated, giving altogether nine

orders, but not ranks. Note that in the Byzantine circle the cherubim

are first, and that it is the strength of the Virtues which calls on

the dead to rise ('St. Mark's Rest,' p. 97, and pp. 158-159).]

37. Under the feet of His apostles, therefore, in the quatrefoil

medallions of the foundation, are represented the virtues which each

Apostle taught, or in his life manifested;--it may have been, sore

tried, and failing in the very strength of the character which he

afterwards perfected. Thus St. Peter, denying in fear, is afterwards

the Apostle of courage; and St. John, who, with his brother, would

have burnt the inhospitable village, is afterwards the Apostle of

love. Understanding this, you see that in the sides of the porch, the

apostles with their special virtues stand thus in opposite ranks.

Now you see how these virtues answer to each other in their opposite

ranks. Remember the left-hand side is always the first, and see how

the left-hand virtues lead to the right hand:--

Courage to Faith.

Patience to Hope.

Gentillesse to Charity.

Love to Chastity.

Obedience to Wisdom.

Perseverance to Humility.

38. Note farther that the Apostles are all tranquil, nearly all with

books, some with crosses, but all with the same message,--"Peace be to

this house. And if the Son of Peace be there," etc.[59]

[Footnote 59: The modern slang name for a priest, among the mob of

France, is a 'Pax Vobiscum,' or shortly, a Vobiscum.]

ST. PAUL, Faith. Courage, ST. PETER.

ST. JAMES THE BISHOP, Hope. Patience, ST. ANDREW.

ST. PHILIP, Charity. Gentillesse, ST. JAMES.

ST. BARTHOLOMEW, Chastity. Love, ST. JOHN.

ST. THOMAS, Wisdom. Obedience, ST. MATTHEW.

ST. JUDE, Humility. Perseverance, ST. SIMON.

But the Prophets--all seeking, or wistful, or tormented, or wondering,

or praying, except only Daniel. The _most_ tormented is Isaiah;

spiritually sawn asunder. No scene of his martyrdom below, but his

seeing the Lord in His temple, and yet feeling he had unclean lips.

Jeremiah also carries his cross--but more serenely.

39. And now, I give in clear succession, the order of the statues of

the whole front, with the subjects of the quatrefoils beneath each of

them, marking the upper quatrefoil A, the lower B. The six prophets

who stand at the angles of the porches, Amos, Obadiah, Micah, Nahum,

Zephaniah, and Haggai, have each of them four quatrefoils, marked, A

and C the upper ones, B and D the lower.

Beginning, then, on the left-hand side of the central porch, and

reading outwards, you have--

1. ST. PETER.

A. Courage.

B. Cowardice.

2. ST. ANDREW.

A. Patience.

B. Anger.

3. ST. JAMES.

A. Gentillesse.

B. Churlishness.

4. ST. JOHN.

A. Love.

B. Discord.

5. ST. MATTHEW.

A. Obedience.

B. Rebellion.

6. ST. SIMON.

A. Perseverance.

B. Atheism.

Now, right-hand side of porch, reading outwards:

7. ST. PAUL.

A. Faith.

B. Idolatry.

8. ST. JAMES, BISHOP.

A. Hope.

B. Despair.

9. ST. PHILIP.

A. Charity.

B. Avarice.

10. ST. BARTHOLOMEW.

A. Chastity.

B. Lust.

11. ST. THOMAS.

A. Wisdom.

B. Folly.

12. ST. JUDE.

A. Humility.

B. Pride.

Now, left-hand side again--the two outermost statues:

13. ISAIAH.

A. "I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne." vi. 1.

B. "Lo, this hath touched thy lips." vi. 7.

14. JEREMIAH.

A. The Burial of the Girdle. xiii. 4, 5.

B. The Breaking of the Yoke. xxviii. 10.

Right-hand side:

15. EZEKIEL.

A. Wheel within wheel. i. 16.

B. "Son of man, set thy face toward Jerusalem." xxi. 2.

16. DANIEL.

A. "He hath shut the lions' mouths." vi. 22.

B. "In the same hour came forth fingers

of a man's hand." v. 5.

40. Now, beginning on the left-hand side (southern side)

of the entire façade, and reading it straight across, not turning into

the porches at all except for the paired quatrefoils:

17. HOSEA.

A. "So I bought her to me with fifteen

pieces of silver." iii. 2.

B. "So will I also be for thee." iii. 3.

18. JOEL.

A. The Sun and Moon lightless. ii. 10.

B. The Fig-tree and Vine leafless. i. 7.

19. AMOS.

To The {A. "The Lord will cry from Zion." i. 2.

front {B. "The habitations of the shepherds

shall mourn." i. 2.

Inside {C. The Lord with the mason's line. vii. 8.

porch {D. The place where it rained not. iv. 7.

20. OBADIAH.

Inside {A. "I hid them in a cave." 2 Kings xviii. 13.

porch {B. He fell on his face. xviii. 7.

To the {C. The captain of fifty.

front {D. The messenger.

21. JONAH.

A. Escaped from the sea.

B. Under the gourd.

22. MICAH.

To the {A. The Tower of the Flock. iv. 8.

front {B. Each shall rest, and "none shall make

them afraid." iv. 4.

Inside {C. Swords into ploughshares. iv. 3.

porch {D. Spears into pruning-hooks. iv. 3.

23. NAHUM.

Inside {A. None shall look back. ii. 8.

porch {B. The burden of Nineveh. i. 1.

To the {C. Thy princes and thy great ones. iii. 17.

front {D. Untimely figs. iii. 12.

24. HABAKKUK.

A. "I will watch to see what he will say," ii. 1.

B. The ministry to Daniel.

25. ZEPHANIAH.

To the {A. The Lord strikes Ethiopia. ii. 12.

front {B. The Beasts in Nineveh. ii. 15.

Inside {C. The Lord visits Jerusalem. i. 12.

porch {D. The Hedgehog and Bittern.[60] ii. 14.

26. HAGGAI.

Inside {A. The houses of the princes, _ornées de

porch lambris_. i. 4.

{B. The heaven is stayed from dew. i. 10.

To the {C. The Lord's temple desolate. i. 4.

front {D. "Thus saith the Lord of Hosts." i. 7.

27. ZECHARIAH.

A. The lifting up of iniquity. v. 6-9.

B. The angel that spake to me. iv. 1.

28. MALACHI.

A. "Ye have wounded the Lord." ii. 17.

B. This commandment is to _you_. ii. 1.

[Footnote 60: See the Septuagint version.]

41. Having thus put the sequence of the statues and their quatrefoils

briefly before the spectator--(in case the railway time presses, it

may be a kindness to him to note that if he walks from the east end of

the cathedral down the street to the south, Rue St. Denis, it takes

him by the shortest line to the station)--I will begin again with St.

Peter, and interpret the sculptures in the quatrefoils a little more

fully. Keeping the fixed numerals for indication of the statues, St.

Peter's quatrefoils will be 1 A and 1 B, and Malachi's 28 A and 28 B.

1, A. COURAGE, with a leopard on his shield; the French and

English agreeing in the reading of that symbol, down

to the time of the Black Prince's leopard coinage in

Aquitaine.[61]

[Footnote 61: For a list of the photographs of the quatrefoils

described in this chapter, see the appendices at the end of this

volume.]

2, B. COWARDICE, a man frightened at an animal darting out

of a thicket, while a bird sings on. The coward has

not the heart of a thrush.

2, A. PATIENCE, holding a shield with a bull on it (never giving

back).[62]

[Footnote 62: In the cathedral of Laon there is a pretty compliment

paid to the oxen who carried the stones of its tower to the hill-top

it stands on. The tradition is that they harnessed themselves,--but

tradition does not say how an ox can harness himself even if he had a

mind. Probably the first form of the story was only that they went

joyfully, "lowing as they went." But at all events their statues are

carved on the height of the tower, eight, colossal, looking from its

galleries across the plains of France. See drawing in Viollet le Duc,

under article "Clocher."]

2, B. ANGER, a woman stabbing a man with a sword. Anger

is essentially a feminine vice--a man, worth calling so,

may be driven to fury or insanity by _indignation_,

(compare the Black Prince at Limoges,) but not by

anger. Fiendish enough, often so--"Incensed with

indignation, Satan stood, _unterrified_--" but in that last

word is the difference, there is as much fear in Anger,

as there is in Hatred.

3, A. GENTILLESSE, bearing shield with a lamb.

3, B. CHURLISHNESS, again a woman, kicking over her cup-bearer.

The final forms of ultimate French churlishness

being in the feminine gestures of the Cancan.

See the favourite prints in shops of Paris.

4, A. LOVE; the Divine, not human love: "I in them, and

Thou in me." Her shield bears a tree with many

branches grafted into its cut-off stem: "In those days

shall Messiah be cut off, but not for Himself."

4, B. DISCORD, a wife and husband quarrelling. She has

dropped her distaff (Amiens wool manufacture, see farther

on--9, A.)

5, A. OBEDIENCE, bears shield with camel. Actually the most

disobedient and ill-tempered of all serviceable beasts,--yet

passing his life in the most painful service. I do

not know how far his character was understood by the

northern sculptor; but I believe he is taken as a type

of burden-bearing, without joy or sympathy, such as

the horse has, and without power of offence, such as the

ox has. His bite is bad enough, (see Mr. Palgrave's

account of him,) but presumably little known of at

Amiens, even by Crusaders, who would always ride

their own war-horses, or nothing.

5, B. REBELLION, a man snapping his fingers at his Bishop.

(As Henry the Eighth at the Pope,--and the modern

French and English cockney at all priests whatever.)

6, A. PERSEVERENCE, the grandest spiritual form of the virtue

commonly called 'Fortitude.' Usually, overcoming

or tearing a lion; here, _caressing_ one, and _holding_ her

crown. "Hold fast that which thou hast, that no man

take thy crown."

6, B. ATHEISM, leaving his shoes at the church door. The infidel

fool is always represented in twelfth and thirteenth

century MS. as barefoot--the Christian having "his

feet shod with the preparation of the Gospel of Peace."

Compare "How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O

Prince's Daughter!"

7, A. FAITH, holding cup with cross above it, her accepted

symbol throughout ancient Europe. It is also an enduring

one, for, all differences of Church put aside, the

words, "Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man and

Drink His blood, ye have no life in you," remain in

their mystery, to be understood only by those who have

learned the sacredness of food, in all times and places,

and the laws of life and spirit, dependent on its acceptance,

refusal, and distribution.

7, B. IDOLATRY, kneeling to a monster. The _contrary_ of

Faith--not _want_ of Faith. Idolatry is faith in the

wrong thing, and quite distinct from Faith in _No_ thing

(6, B), the "Dixit Insipiens." Very wise men may be

idolaters, but they cannot be atheists.

8, A. HOPE, with Gonfalon Standard and _distant_ crown; as

opposed to the constant crown of Fortitude (6, A).

The Gonfalon (Gund, war, fahr, standard, according

to Poitevin's dictionary), is the pointed ensign of forward

battle; essentially sacred; hence the constant

name "Gonfaloniere" of the battle standard-bearers of

the Italian republics.

Hope has it, because she fights forward always to her

aim, or at least has the joy of seeing it draw nearer.

Faith and Fortitude wait, as St. John in prison, but unoffended.

Hope is, however, put under St. James, because

of the 7th and 8th verses of his last chapter, ending

"Stablish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord

draweth nigh." It is he who examines Dante on the

nature of Hope. 'Par.,' c. xxv., and compare Cary's

notes.

8, B. DESPAIR, stabbing himself. Suicide not thought heroic

or sentimental in the 13th century; and no Gothic

Morgue built beside Somme.

9, A. CHARITY, bearing shield with woolly ram, and giving a

mantle to a naked beggar. The old wool manufacture

of Amiens having this notion of its purpose--namely,

to clothe the poor first, the rich afterwards. No nonsense

talked in those days about the evil consequences

of indiscriminate charity.

9, B. AVARICE, with coffer and money. The modern, alike

English and Amienois, notion of the Divine consummation

of the wool manufacture.

10, A. CHASTITY, shield with the Phoenix.[63]

[Footnote 63: For the sake of comparing the pollution, and reversal of

its once glorious religion, in the modern French mind, it is worth the

reader's while to ask at M. Goyer's (Place St. Denis) for the 'Journal

de St. Nicholas' for 1880, and look at the 'Phénix,' as drawn on p.

610. The story is meant to be moral, and the Phoenix there

represents Avarice, but the entire destruction of all sacred and

poetical tradition in a child's mind by such a picture is an

immorality which would neutralize a year's preaching. To make it worth

M. Goyer's while to show you the number, buy the one with 'les

conclusions de Jeanie' in it, p. 337: the church scene (with dialogue)

in the text is lovely.]

10, B. LUST, a too violent kiss.

11, A. WISDOM, shield with, I think, an eatable root; meaning

temperance, as the beginning of wisdom.

11, B. FOLLY, the ordinary type used in all early Psalters, of

a glutton, armed with a club. Both this vice and

virtue are the earthly wisdom and folly, completing

the spiritual wisdom and folly opposite under St.

Matthew. Temperance, the complement of Obedience,

and Covetousness, with violence, that of Atheism.

12, A. HUMILITY, shield with dove.

12, B. PRIDE, falling from his horse.

42. All these quatrefoils are rather symbolic than representative;

and, since their purpose was answered enough if their sign was

understood, they have been entrusted to a more inferior workman than

the one who carved the now sequent series under the Prophets. Most of

these subjects represent an historical fact, or a scene spoken of by

the prophet as a real vision; and they have in general been executed

by the ablest hands at the architect's command.

With the interpretation of these, I have given again the name of the

prophet whose life or prophecy they illustrate.

13. ISAIAH.

13, A. "I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne" (vi. I).

The vision of the throne "high and lifted up"

between seraphim.

13, B. "Lo, this hath touched thy lips" (vi. 7).

The Angel stands before the prophet, and holds,

or rather held, the coal with tongs, which have been

finely undercut, but are now broken away, only a

fragment remaining in his hand.

14. JEREMIAH.

14, A. The burial of the girdle (xiii. 4, 5).

The prophet is digging by the shore of Euphrates,

represented by vertically winding furrows down the

middle of the tablet. Note, the translation should be

"hole in the ground," not "rock."

14, B. The breaking of the yoke (xxviii. 10).

From the prophet Jeremiah's neck; it is here

represented as a doubled and redoubled chain.

15. EZEKIEL.

15, A. Wheel within wheel (i. 16).

The prophet sitting; before him two wheels of

equal size, one involved in the ring of the other.

15, B. "Son of man, set thy face toward Jerusalem" (xxi. 2).

The prophet before the gate of Jerusalem.

16. DANIEL.

16, A. "He hath shut the lions' mouths" (vi. 22).

Daniel holding a book, the lions treated as heraldic

supporters. The subject is given with more

animation farther on in the series (24, B).

16, B. "In the same hour came forth fingers of a Man's hand" (v. 5).

Belshazzar's feast represented by the king alone,

seated at a small oblong table. Beside him the youth

Daniel, looking only fifteen or sixteen, graceful and

gentle, interprets. At the side of the quatrefoil,

out of a small wreath of cloud, comes a small bent

hand, writing, as if with a pen upside down on a piece

of Gothic wall.[64]

For modern bombast as opposed to old simplicity,

compare the Belshazzar's feast of John Martin!

[Footnote 64: I fear this hand has been broken since I described it; at

all events, it is indistinguishably shapeless in the photograph (No. 9

of the series).]

43. The next subject begins the series of the minor prophets.

17. HOSEA.

17, A. "So I bought her to me for fifteen pieces of silver and

an homer of barley" (iii. 2).

The prophet pouring the grain and the silver into

the lap of the woman, "beloved of her friend." The

carved coins are each wrought with the cross, and, I

believe, legend of the French contemporary coin.

17, B. "So will I also be for thee" (iii. 3).

He puts a ring on her finger.

18. JOEL.

18, A. The sun and moon lightless (ii. 10).

The sun and moon as two small flat pellets, up in

the external moulding.

18, B. The barked fig-tree and waste vine (i. 7).

Note the continual insistance on the blight of vegetation

as a Divine punishment, 19 D.

19. AMOS.

_To the front._

19, A. "The Lord will cry from Zion" (i. 2).

Christ appears with crossletted nimbus.

19, B. "The habitations of the shepherds shall mourn" (i. 2).

Amos with the shepherd's hooked or knotted staff,

and wicker-worked bottle, before his tent. (Architecture

in right-hand foil restored.)

_Inside Porch._

19, C. The Lord with the mason's line (vii. 8).

Christ, again here, and henceforward always, with

crosslet nimbus, has a large trowel in His hand, which

He lays on the top of a half-built wall. There seems

a line twisted round the handle.

19, D. The place where it rained not (iv. 7).

Amos is gathering the leaves of the fruitless vine,

to feed the sheep, who find no grass. One of the

finest of the reliefs.

20. OBADIAH.

_Inside Porch._

20, A. "I hid them in a cave" (1 Kings xviii. 13).

Three prophets at the mouth of a well, to whom

Obadiah brings loaves.

20, B. "He fell on his face" (xviii. 7).

He kneels before Elijah, who wears his rough

mantle.

_To the front._

20, C. The captain of fifty.

Elijah (?) speaking to an armed man under a tree.

20, D. The Messenger.

A messenger on his knees before a king. I cannot

interpret these two scenes (20, C and 20, D).

The uppermost _may_ mean the dialogue of Elijah

with the captains (2 Kings i. 2), and the lower one,

the return of the messengers (2 Kings i. 5).

21. JONAH.

21, A. Escaped from the sea.

21, B. Under the gourd. A small grasshopper-like beast

gnawing the gourd stem. I should like to know

what insects _do_ attack the Amiens gourds. This may

be an entomological study, for aught we know.

22. MICAH.

_To the front._

22, A. The Tower of the Flock (iv. 8).

The tower is wrapped in clouds, God appearing

above it.

22, B. Each shall rest and "none shall make them afraid" (iv. 4).

A man and his wife "under his vine and fig-tree."

_Inside Porch._

22, C. "Swords into ploughshares" (iv. 3).

Nevertheless, two hundred years after these medallions

were cut, the sword manufacture had become a

staple in Amiens! Not to her advantage.

22, D. "Spears into pruning-hooks" (iv. 3).

23. NAHUM.

_Inside Porch._

23, A. "None shall look back" (ii. 8).

23, B. The Burden of Nineveh (i. I).[65]

[Footnote 65: The statue of the prophet, above, is the grandest of the

entire series; and note especially the "diadema" of his own luxuriant

hair plaited like a maiden's, indicating the Achillean force of this

most terrible of the prophets. (Compare 'Fors Clavigera,' Letter LXV.,

page 157.) For the rest, this long flowing hair was always one of the

insignia of the Frankish kings, and their way of dressing both hair

and beard may be seen more nearly and definitely in the

angle-sculptures of the long font in the north transept, the most

interesting piece of work in the whole cathedral, in an antiquarian

sense, and of much artistic value also. (See ante chap. ii. p. 45.)]

_To the front._

23, C. "Thy Princes and thy great ones" (iii. 17).

23, A, B, and C, are all incapable of sure interpretation. The

prophet in A is pointing down to a little hill, said by

the Père Rozé to be covered with grasshoppers. I

can only copy what he says of them.

23, D. "Untimely figs" (iii. 12).

Three people beneath a fig-tree catch its falling

fruit in their mouths.

24. HABAKKUK.

24, A. "I will watch to see what he will say unto me" (ii. 1).

The prophet is writing on his tablet to Christ's

dictation.

24, B. The ministry to Daniel.

The traditional visit to Daniel. An angel carries

Habakkuk by the hair of his head; the prophet

has a loaf of bread in each hand. They break

through the roof of the cave. Daniel is stroking one

young lion on the back; the head of another is thrust

carelessly under his arm. Another is gnawing

bones in the bottom of the cave.

25. ZEPHANIAH.

_To the front._

25, A. The Lord strikes Ethiopia (ii. 12).

Christ striking a city with a sword. Note that all

violent actions are in these bas-reliefs feebly or ludicrously

expressed; quiet ones always right.

25, B. The beasts in Nineveh (ii. 15).

Very fine. All kinds of crawling things among

the tottering walls, and peeping out of their rents

and crannies. A monkey sitting squat, developing

into a demon, reverses the Darwinian theory.

_Inside porch._

25, C. The Lord visits Jerusalem (i. 12).

Christ passing through the streets of Jerusalem,

with a lantern in each hand.

25, D. The Hedgehog and Bittern[66] (ii. 14).

With a singing bird in a cage in the window.

[Footnote 66: See ante p. 117, note.]

26. HAGGAI.

_Inside Porch._

26, A. The houses of the princes, _ornées de lambris_ (i. 4).

A perfectly built house of square stones gloomily

strong, the grating (of a prison?) in front of foundation.

26, B. The Heaven is stayed from dew (i. 10).

The heavens as a projecting mass, with stars, sun,

and moon on surface. Underneath, two withered

trees.

_To the front._

26, C. The Lord's temple desolate (i. 4).

The falling of the temple, "not one stone left on

another," grandly loose. Square stones again. Examine

the text (i. 6).

26, D. "Thus saith the Lord of Hosts" (i. 7).

Christ pointing up to His ruined temple.

27. ZECHARIAH.

27, A. The lifting up of Iniquity (v. 6 to 9).

Wickedness in the Ephah.

27, B. "The angel that spake to me" (iv. 1).

The prophet almost reclining, a glorious winged

angel hovering out of cloud.

28. MALACHI.

28, A. "Ye have wounded the Lord" (ii. 17).

The priests are thrusting Christ through with a

barbed lance, whose point comes out at His back.

28, B. "This commandment is to _you_" (ii. 1).

In these panels, the undermost is often introductory

to the one above, an illustration of it. It is perhaps

chapter i. verse 6, that is meant to be spoken here by

the sitting figure of Christ, to the indignant priests.

44. With this bas-relief terminates the series of sculpture in

illustration of Apostolic and Prophetic teaching, which constitutes

what I mean by the "Bible" of Amiens. But the two lateral porches

contain supplementary subjects necessary for completion of the

pastoral and traditional teaching addressed to her people in that day.

The Northern Porch, dedicated to her first missionary St. Firmin, has

on its central pier his statue; above, on the flat field of the back

of the arch, the story of the finding of his body; on the sides of the

porch, companion saints and angels in the following order:--

CENTRAL STATUE.

ST. FIRMIN.

_Southern (left) side._

41. St. Firmin the Confessor.

42. St. Domice.

43. St. Honoré.

44. St. Salve.

45. St. Quentin.

46. St. Gentian.

_Northern (right) side._

47. St. Geoffroy.

48. An angel.

49. St. Fuscien, martyr.

50. St. Victoric, martyr.

51. An angel.

52. St. Ulpha.

45. Of these saints, excepting St. Firmin and St. Honoré, of whom I have

already spoken,[67] St. Geoffroy is more real for us than the rest; he

was born in the year of the battle of Hastings, at Molincourt in the

Soissonais, and was Bishop of Amiens from 1104 to 1150. A man of

entirely simple, pure, and right life: one of the severest of ascetics,

but without gloom--always gentle and merciful. Many miracles are

recorded of him, but all indicating a tenour of life which was chiefly

miraculous by its justice and peace. Consecrated at Rheims, and attended

by a train of other bishops and nobles to his diocese, he dismounts from

his horse at St. Acheul, the place of St. Firmin's first tomb, and walks

barefoot to his cathedral, along the causeway now so defaced: at another

time he walks barefoot from Amiens to Picquigny to ask from the Vidame

of Amiens the freedom of the Chatelain Adam. He maintained the

privileges of the citizens, with the help of Louis le Gros, against the

Count of Amiens, defeated him, and razed his castle; nevertheless, the

people not enough obeying him in the order of their life, he blames his

own weakness, rather than theirs, and retires to the Grande Chartreuse,

holding himself unfit to be their bishop. The Carthusian superior

questioning him on his reasons for retirement, and asking if he had ever

sold the offices of the Church, the Bishop answered, "My father, my

hands are pure of simony, but I have a thousand times allowed myself to

be seduced by praise."

[Footnote 67: See ante Chap. I., pp. 5-6, for the history of St.

Firmin, and for St. Honoré p. 95, § 8 of this chapter, with the

reference there given.]

46. St. Firmin the Confessor was the son of the Roman senator who

received St. Firmin himself. He preserved the tomb of the martyr in

his father's garden, and at last built a church over it, dedicated to

our Lady of martyrs, which was the first episcopal seat of Amiens, at

St. Acheul, spoken of above. St. Ulpha was an Amienoise girl, who

lived in a chalk cave above the marshes of the Somme;--if ever Mr.

Murray provides you with a comic guide to Amiens, no doubt the

enlightened composer of it will count much on your enjoyment of the

story of her being greatly disturbed at her devotions by the frogs,

and praying them silent. You are now, of course, wholly superior to

such follies, and are sure that God cannot, or will not, so much as

shut a frog's mouth for you. Remember, therefore, that as He also now

leaves open the mouth of the liar, blasphemer, and betrayer, you must

shut your own ears against _their_ voices as you can.

Of her name, St. Wolf--or Guelph--see again Miss Yonge's Christian

names. Our tower of Wolf's stone, Ulverstone, and Kirk of Ulpha, are,

I believe, unconscious of Picard relatives.

47. The other saints in this porch are all in like manner provincial,

and, as it were, personal friends of the Amienois; and under them, the

quatrefoils represent the pleasant order of the guarded and hallowed

year--the zodiacal signs above, and labours of the months below; little

differing from the constant representations of them--except in the May:

see below. The Libra also is a little unusual in the female figure

holding the scales; the lion especially good-tempered--and the 'reaping'

one of the most beautiful figures in the whole series of sculptures;

several of the others peculiarly refined and far-wrought. In Mr.

Kaltenbacher's photographs, as I have arranged them, the bas-reliefs may

be studied nearly as well as in the porch itself. Their order is as

follows, beginning with December, in the left-hand inner corner of the

porch:--

41. DECEMBER.--Killing and scalding swine. Above, Capricorn

with quickly diminishing tail; I cannot make out

the accessories.

42. JANUARY.--Twin-headed, obsequiously served. Aquarius

feebler than most of the series.

43. FEBRUARY.--Very fine; warming his feet and putting coals

on fire. Fish above, elaborate but uninteresting.

44. MARCH.--At work in vine-furrows. Aries careful, but

rather stupid.

45. APRIL.--Feeding his hawk--very pretty. Taurus above

with charming leaves to eat.

46. MAY.--Very singularly, a middle-aged man sitting under

the trees to hear the birds sing; and Gemini above, a

bridegroom and bride. This quatrefoil joins the interior

angle ones of Zephaniah.

52. JUNE.--Opposite, joining the interior angle ones of Haggai.

Mowing. Note the lovely flowers sculptured all

through the grass. Cancer above, with his shell superbly

modelled.

51. JULY.--Reaping. Extremely beautiful. The smiling lion

completes the evidence that all the seasons and signs

are regarded as alike blessing and providentially kind.

50. AUGUST.--Threshing. Virgo above, holding a flower, her

drapery very modern and confused for thirteenth-century

work.

49. SEPTEMBER.--I am not sure of his action, whether pruning,

or in some way gathering fruit from the full-leaved

tree. Libra above; charming.

[Illustration: ST. MARY.]

48. OCTOBER.--Treading grapes. Scorpio, a very traditional

and gentle form--forked in the tail indeed, but stingless.

47. NOVEMBER.--Sowing, with Sagittarius, half concealed

when this photograph was taken by the beautiful

arrangements always now going on for some job or

other in French cathedrals:--they never can let them

alone for ten minutes.

48. And now, last of all, if you care to see it, we will go into the

Madonna's porch--only, if you come at all, good Protestant feminine

reader--come civilly: and be pleased to recollect, if you have, in

known history, material for recollection, this (or if you cannot

recollect--be you very solemnly assured of this): that neither

Madonna-worship, nor Lady-worship of any sort, whether of dead ladies

or living ones, ever did any human creature any harm,--but that Money

worship, Wig worship, Cocked-Hat-and-Feather worship, Plate worship,

Pot worship and Pipe worship, have done, and are doing, a great

deal,--and that any of these, and all, are quite million-fold more

offensive to the God of Heaven and Earth and the Stars, than all the

absurdest and lovingest mistakes made by any generations of His simple

children, about what the Virgin-mother could, or would, or might do,

or feel for them.

49. And next, please observe this broad historical fact about the

three sorts of Madonnas.

There is first the Madonna Dolorosa; the Byzantine type, and

Cimabue's. It is the noblest of all; and the earliest, in distinct

popular influence.[68]

[Footnote 68: See the description of the Madonna of Murano, in second

volume of 'Stones of Venice.']

Secondly. The Madone Reine, who is essentially the Frank and Norman

one; crowned, calm, and full of power and gentleness. She is the one

represented in this porch.

Thirdly. The Madone Nourrice, who is the Raphaelesque and generally

late and decadence one. She is seen here in a good French type in the

south transept porch, as before noticed.

An admirable comparison will be found instituted by M. Viollet le Duc

(the article 'Vierge,' in his dictionary, is altogether deserving of

the most attentive study) between this statue of the Queen-Madonna of

the southern porch and the Nurse-Madonna of the transept. I may

perhaps be able to get a photograph made of his two drawings, side by

side: but, if I can, the reader will please observe that he has a

little flattered the Queen, and a little vulgarized the Nurse, which

is not fair. The statue in this porch is in thirteenth-century style,

extremely good: but there is no reason for making any fuss about

it--the earlier Byzantine types being far grander.

50. The Madonna's story, in its main incidents, is told in the series

of statues round the porch, and in the quatrefoils below--several of

which refer, however, to a legend about the Magi to which I have not

had access, and I am not sure of their interpretation.

The large statues are on the left hand, reading outwards as usual.

29. The Angel Gabriel.

30. Virgin Annunciate.

31. Virgin Visitant.

32. St. Elizabeth.

33. Virgin in Presentation.

34. St. Simeon.

On the right hand, reading outward,

35, 36, 37, The three Kings.

38. Herod.

39. Solomon.

40. The Queen of Sheba.

51. I am not sure of rightly interpreting the introduction of these two

last statues: but I believe the idea of the designer was that virtually

the Queen Mary visited Herod when she sent, or had sent for her, the

Magi to tell him of her presence at Bethlehem: and the contrast between

Solomon's reception of the Queen of Sheba, and Herod's driving out the

Madonna into Egypt, is dwelt on throughout this side of the porch, with

their several consequences to the two Kings and to the world.

The quatrefoils underneath the great statues run as follows:

29. Under Gabriel--

A. Daniel seeing the stone cut out without hands.

B. Moses and the burning bush.

30. Under Virgin Annunciate--

A. Gideon and the dew on the fleece.

B. Moses with written law, retiring; Aaron, dominant, points to

his budding rod.

31. Under Virgin Visitant--

A. The message to Zacharias: "Fear not, for thy prayer is heard."

B. The dream of Joseph: "Fear not to take unto thee Mary thy

wife." (?)

32. Under St. Elizabeth--

A. The silence of Zacharias: "They perceived that he had seen a

vision in the temple."

B. "There is none of thy kindred that is called by this name."

"He wrote saying, His name is John."

33. Under Virgin in Presentation--

A. Flight into Egypt.

B. Christ with the Doctors.

34. Under St. Simeon--

A. Fall of the idols in Egypt.

B. The return to Nazareth.

These two last quatrefoils join the beautiful C and D of Amos.

Then on the opposite side, under the Queen of Sheba, and

joining the A and B of Obadiah--

40. A. Solomon entertains the Queen of Sheba. The Grace cup.

B. Solomon teaches the Queen of Sheba, "God is above."

39. Under Solomon--

A. Solomon on his throne of judgment.

B. Solomon praying before his temple-gate.

38. Under Herod--

A. Massacre of Innocents.

B. Herod orders the ship of the Kings to be burned.

37. Under the third King--

A. Herod inquires of the Kings.

B. Burning of the ship.

36. Under the second King--

A. Adoration in Bethlehem?--not certain.

B. The voyage of the Kings.

35. Under the first King--

A. The Star in the East.

B. "Being warned in a dream that they should not return to Herod."

I have no doubt of finding out in time the real sequence of these

subjects: but it is of little import,--this group of quatrefoils being

of less interest than the rest, and that of the Massacre of the

Innocents curiously illustrative of the incapability of the sculptor

to give strong action or passion.

But into questions respecting the art of these bas-reliefs I do not

here attempt to enter. They were never intended to serve as more than

signs, or guides to thought. And if the reader follows this guidance

quietly, he may create for himself better pictures in his heart; and

at all events may recognize these following general truths, as their

united message.

52. First, that throughout the Sermon on this Amiens Mount, Christ

never appears, or is for a moment thought of, as the Crucified, nor as

the Dead: but as the Incarnate Word--as the present Friend--as the

Prince of Peace on Earth,--and as the Everlasting King in Heaven. What

His life _is_, what His commands _are_, and what His judgment _will

be_, are the things here taught: not what He once did, nor what He

once suffered, but what He is now doing--and what He requires us to

do. That is the pure, joyful, beautiful lesson of Christianity; and

the fall from that faith, and all the corruptions of its abortive

practice, may be summed briefly as the habitual contemplation of

Christ's death instead of His Life, and the substitution of His past

suffering for our present duty.

53. Then, secondly, though Christ bears not _His_ cross, the mourning

prophets,--the persecuted apostles--and the martyred disciples _do_

bear theirs. For just as it is well for you to remember what your

undying Creator is _doing_ for you--it is well for you to remember

what your dying fellow-creatures _have done_: the Creator you may at

your pleasure deny or defy--the Martyr you can only forget; deny, you

cannot. Every stone of this building is cemented with his blood, and

there is no furrow of its pillars that was not ploughed by his pain.

54. Keeping, then, these things in your heart, look back now to the

central statue of Christ, and hear His message with understanding. He

holds the Book of the Eternal Law in His left hand; with His right He

blesses,--but blesses on condition. "This do, and thou shalt live";

nay, in stricter and more piercing sense, This _be_ and thou shalt

live: to show Mercy is nothing--thy soul must be full of mercy; to be

pure in act is nothing--thou shalt be pure in heart also.

And with this further word of the unabolished law--"This if thou do

_not_, this if thou art not, thou shalt die."

55. Die (whatever Death means)--totally and irrevocably. There is no

word in thirteenth-century Theology of the pardon (in our modern

sense) of sins; and there is none of the Purgatory of them. Above that

image of Christ with us, our Friend, is set the image of Christ over

us, our Judge. For this present life--here is His helpful Presence.

After this life--there is His coming to take account of our deeds, and

of our desires in them; and the parting asunder of the Obedient from

the Disobedient, of the Loving from the Unkind, with no hope given to

the last of recall or reconciliation. I do not know what commenting or

softening doctrines were written in frightened minuscule by the

Fathers, or hinted in hesitating whispers by the prelates of the early

Church. But I know that the language of every graven stone and every

glowing window,--of things daily seen and universally understood by

the people, was absolutely and alone, this teaching of Moses from

Sinai in the beginning, and of St. John from Patmos in the end, of the

Revelation of God to Israel.

This it was, simply--sternly--and continually, for the great three

hundred years of Christianity in her strength (eleventh, twelfth, and

thirteenth centuries), and over the whole breadth and depth of her

dominion, from Iona to Cyrene,--and from Calpe to Jerusalem. At what

time the doctrine of Purgatory was openly accepted by Catholic

Doctors, I neither know nor care to know. It was first formalized by

Dante, but never accepted for an instant by the sacred artist teachers

of his time--or by those of any great school or time whatsoever.[69]

[Footnote 69: The most authentic foundations of the Purgatorial scheme

in art-teaching are in the renderings, subsequent to the thirteenth

century, of the verse "by which also He went and preached unto the

spirits in prison," forming gradually into the idea of the deliverance

of the waiting saints from the power of the grave.

In literature and tradition, the idea is originally, I believe,

Platonic; certainly not Homeric. Egyptian possibly--but I have read

nothing yet of the recent discoveries in Egypt. Not, however, quite

liking to leave the matter in the complete emptiness of my own

resources, I have appealed to my general investigator, Mr. Anderson

(James R.), who writes as follows:--

"There is no possible question about the doctrine and universal

inculcation of it, ages before Dante. Curiously enough, though, the

statement of it in the Summa Theologiæ as we have it is a later

insertion; but I find by references that St. Thomas teaches it

elsewhere. Albertus Magnus developes it at length. If you refer to the

'Golden Legend' under All Souls' Day, you will see how the idea is

assumed as a commonplace in a work meant for popular use in the

thirteenth century. St. Gregory (the Pope) argues for it (Dial. iv.

38) on two scriptural quotations: (1), the sin that is forgiven

neither in hôc sæculo _nor in that which is to come_, and (2), the

fire which shall try every man's work. I think Platonic philosophy and

the Greek mysteries must have had a good deal to do with introducing

the idea originally; but with them--as to Virgil--it was part of the

Eastern vision of a circling stream of life from which only a few

drops were at intervals tossed to a definitely permanent Elysium or a

definitely permanent Hell. It suits that scheme better than it does

the Christian one, which attaches ultimately in all cases infinite

importance to the results of life in hôc sæculo.

"Do you know any representation of Heaven or Hell unconnected with the

Last Judgment? I don't remember any, and as Purgatory is by that time

past, this would account for the absence of pictures of it.

"Besides, Purgatory precedes the Resurrection--there is continual

question among divines what manner of purgatorial fire it may be that

affects spirits separate from the body--perhaps Heaven and Hell, as

opposed to Purgatory, were felt to be picturable because not only

spirits, but the risen bodies too are conceived in them.

"Bede's account of the Ayrshire seer's vision gives Purgatory in words

very like Dante's description of the second stormy circle in Hell; and

the angel which ultimately saves the Scotchman from the fiends comes

through hell, 'quasi fulgor stellæ micantis inter tenebras'--'qual sul

presso del mattino Per gli grossi vapor Marte rosseggia.' Bede's name

was great in the middle ages. Dante meets him in Heaven, and, I like

to hope, may have been helped by the vision of my fellow-countryman

more than six hundred years before."]

56. Neither do I know nor care to know--at what time the notion of

Justification by Faith, in the modern sense, first got itself

distinctively fixed in the minds of the heretical sects and schools of

the North. Practically its strength was founded by its first authors

on an asceticism which differed from monastic rule in being only able

to destroy, never to build; and in endeavouring to force what severity

it thought proper for itself on everybody else also; and so striving

to make one artless, letterless, and merciless monastery of all the

world. Its virulent effort broke down amidst furies of reactionary

dissoluteness and disbelief, and remains now the basest of popular

solders and plasters for every condition of broken law and bruised

conscience which interest can provoke, or hypocrisy disguise.

57. With the subsequent quarrels between the two great sects of the

corrupted church, about prayers for the Dead, Indulgences to the

Living, Papal supremacies, or Popular liberties, no man, woman, or

child need trouble themselves in studying the history of Christianity:

they are nothing but the squabbles of men, and laughter of fiends

among its ruins. The Life, and Gospel, and Power of it, are all

written in the mighty works of its true believers: in Normandy and

Sicily, on river islets of France and in the river glens of England,

on the rocks of Orvieto, and by the sands of Arno. But of all, the

simplest, completest, and most authoritative in its lessons to the

active mind of North Europe, is this on the foundation stones of

Amiens.

58. Believe it or not, reader, as you will: understand only how

thoroughly it _was_ once believed; and that all beautiful things were

made, and all brave deeds done in the strength of it--until what we may

call 'this present time,' in which it is gravely asked whether Religion

has any effect on morals, by persons who have essentially no idea

whatever of the meaning of either Religion or Morality.

Concerning which dispute, this much perhaps you may have the patience

finally to read, as the Flèche of Amiens fades in the distance, and

your carriage rushes towards the Isle of France, which now exhibits

the most admired patterns of European Art, intelligence, and

behaviour.

59. All human creatures, in all ages and places of the world, who have

had warm affections, common sense, and self-command, have been, and

are, Naturally Moral. Human nature in its fulness is necessarily

Moral,--without Love, it is inhuman, without sense,[70]

inhuman,--without discipline, inhuman.

[Footnote 70: I don't mean æsthesis,--but [Greek: nous], if you _must_

talk in Greek slang.]

In the exact proportion in which men are bred capable of these things,

and are educated to love, to think, and to endure, they become

noble,--live happily--die calmly: are remembered with perpetual honour

by their race, and for the perpetual good of it. All wise men know and

have known these things, since the form of man was separated from the

dust. The knowledge and enforcement of them have nothing to do with

religion: a good and wise man differs from a bad and idiotic one,

simply as a good dog from a cur, and as any manner of dog from a wolf

or a weasel. And if you are to believe in, or preach without half

believing in, a spiritual world or law--only in the hope that whatever

you do, or anybody else does, that is foolish or beastly, may be in

them and by them mended and patched and pardoned and worked up again

as good as new--the less you believe in--and most solemnly, the less

you talk about--a spiritual world, the better.

60. But if, loving well the creatures that are like yourself, you feel

that you would love still more dearly, creatures better than

yourself--were they revealed to you;--if striving with all your might

to mend what is evil, near you and around, you would fain look for a day

when some Judge of all the Earth shall wholly do right, and the little

hills rejoice on every side; if, parting with the companions that have

given you all the best joy you had on Earth, you desire ever to meet

their eyes again and clasp their hands,--where eyes shall no more be

dim, nor hands fail;--if, preparing yourselves to lie down beneath the

grass in silence and loneliness, seeing no more beauty, and feeling no

more gladness--you would care for the promise to you of a time when you

should see God's light again, and know the things you have longed to

know, and walk in the peace of everlasting Love--_then_, the Hope of

these things to you is religion, the Substance of them in your life is

Faith. And in the power of them, it is promised us, that the kingdoms of

this world shall yet become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ.

[Illustration: Plan of West porches of Amiens Cathedral]

APPENDICES.

I. CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS REFERRED TO IN

THE 'BIBLE OF AMIENS.'

II. REFERENCES EXPLANATORY OF THE PHOTOGRAPHS ILLUSTRATING

CHAPTER IV.

III. GENERAL PLAN OF 'OUR FATHERS HAVE TOLD US.'

APPENDIX I.

_CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS

REFERRED TO IN THE 'BIBLE OF AMIENS.'_

A.D. PAGE

250. Rise of the Franks 33

301. St. Firmin comes to Amiens 5

332. St. Martin 15

345. St. Jerome born 75

350. First church at Amiens, over St. Firmin's grave 99

358. Franks defeated by Julian near Strasburg 44

405. St. Jerome's Bible 50

420. St. Jerome dies 78 _seq._

421. St. Genevieve born. Venice founded 27

445. Franks cross the Rhine and take Amiens 7

447. Merovée king at Amiens 7, 8

451. Battle of Chalons. Attila defeated by Aëtius 7

457. Merovée dies. Childeric king at Amiens 8

466. Clovis born 7

476. Roman Empire in Italy ended by Odoacer 8

481. Roman Empire ended in France 9

Clovis crowned at Amiens 8, 27

St. Benedict born 27

485. Battle of Soissons. Clovis defeats Syagrius 8, 52

486. Syagrius dies at the court of Alaric 52

489. Battle of Verona. Theodoric defeats Odoacer 54

493. Clovis marries Clotilde 8

496. Battle of Tolbiac. Clovis defeats the Alemanni 53

Clovis crowned at Rheims by St. Rémy 9

Clovis baptized by St. Rémy 13

508. Battle of Poitiers. Clovis defeats the Visigoths

under Alaric. Death of Alaric 9

APPENDIX II.

_REFERENCES EXPLANATORY OF THE PHOTOGRAPHS

ILLUSTRATING CHAPTER IV._

The quatrefoils on the foundation of the west front of Amiens

Cathedral, described in the course of the fourth chapter, had never

been engraved or photographed in any form accessible to the public

until last year, when I commissioned M. Kaltenbacher (6, Passage du

Commerce), who had photographed them for M. Viollet le Duc, to obtain

negatives of the entire series, with the central pedestal of the

Christ.

The proofs are entirely satisfactory to me, and extremely honourable

to M. Kaltenbacher's skill: and it is impossible to obtain any more

instructive and interesting, in exposition of the manner of central

thirteenth-century sculpture.

I directed their setting so that the entire succession of the

quatrefoils might be included in eighteen plates; the front and two

sides of the pedestal raise their number to twenty-one: the whole,

unmounted, sold by my agent Mr. Ward (the negatives being my own

property) for four guineas; or separately, each five shillings.

Besides these of my own, I have chosen four general views of the

cathedral from M. Kaltenbacher's formerly-taken negatives, which,

together with the first-named series, (twenty-five altogether,) will

form a complete body of illustrations for the fourth chapter of the

'BIBLE OF AMIENS'; costing in all five guineas, forwarded free by post

from Mr. Ward's (2, Church Terrace, Richmond, Surrey). In addition to

these, Mr. Ward will supply the photograph of the four scenes from the

life of St. Firmin, mentioned on page 5 of Chapter I.; price five

shillings.

For those who do not care to purchase the whole series, I have marked

with an asterisk the plates which are especially desirable.

* * * * *

The two following lists will enable readers who possess the plates to

refer without difficulty both from the photographs to the text, and

from the text to the photographs, which will be found to fall into the

following groups:--

Our Fathers Have Told Us Part I. The Bible of Amiens · 第 4 / 5 章