Apart from some possible Roman fragments the earliest specimens of
foliage sculpture worked in this country are to be found on the Anglican
crosses. The dates of these crosses have been a subject of much
controversy, but a consensus of latest authorities accepts them as
genuine work of the seventh and eighth centuries[2]. On these the
foliage sculpture, if it can be so called, consists entirely of twining
sprays and occasional vine leaves and grapes. The earliest and best of
these would appear to be the work of foreign masons. St Augustine is
said to have brought with him some artisans from Italy, and St Wilfred
(634-709) is known to have done so, and some of these crosses may well
have been their work. The standing crosses are not numerous, but there
are hundreds of fragments scattered about, mostly in Yorkshire. The
character of this carving does not differ from specimens which are to be
found all over the eastern portion of the Roman Empire--in Italy,
Greece, Egypt and Asia Minor. It is Byzantine or Coptic in origin.
Although probably executed in England, and copied by native masons, it
is rather cosmopolitan than national art. Some of the original specimens
here compare favourably with sculpture of the same period in Italy and
elsewhere. But there is little in this carving to indicate any life or
originality. It is decadent Byzantine of the kind often called Lombardic
because it was the kind of work that was produced in Italy after the
Lombard invasion. The chief features of this style, besides the
Byzantesque figures, are intricate knots of intertwined strands, and
wavy sprays sometimes with biting beasts or pecking birds inserted among
them. The figures when copied tended to become grotesque barbarisms. The
knots were successfully copied up to the twelfth century. The strands,
which tended to become grooved, survived in the intertwined or woven
sprays of what is commonly called Anglo-Saxon sculpture and we find
animals inserted in such twelfth-century work as that of Rochester west
doorway, Ely Prior’s Doorway, and Kilpeck. The occasional vine-leaf and
grapes did not lead to any further development, but a common form in
this early work was a half-opened leaf in profile. This occurs
frequently wherever this style of carving exists, and it survived into
the twelfth century.
Assuming that these Anglian crosses belong to the end of the seventh
century, we cannot trace any progressive development through the eighth,
ninth and tenth centuries. It was not a period of progress, but rather
of decadence and destruction, in spite of bright spots here and there.
Arts which could be carried on in the seclusion of monasteries or
convents, such as illuminated manuscripts and fine needlework, were
carried to great perfection in certain quarters, perhaps also
ivory-carving, some good specimens of which are attributed to
Anglo-Saxon sources (Pl. 3). It is, however, questionable to what extent
stone-carving was influenced by these arts; whether, for instance, the
wonderful spirals and convolutions of Irish manuscripts should be
regarded as predecessors or followers of stone-carvings; but goldsmiths’
work, wicker-work, and iron and wood-work certainly suggested some of
the designs. In referring to a cross-shaft of very rude work at Bishop
Auckland, Sir Martin Conway says: “We find here, continuing, the
traditions introduced by Italian craftsmen into the North of England at
or about the time of Wilfred. Those traditions, the forms developed by
Irish and English craftsmen in goldsmiths’ work, illumination and
perhaps also in wood-carving, and, finally, the influence of surviving
works of Roman sculpture and decoration--these were the three factors by
whose union the art of the Anglian sculptures was produced and is
sufficiently explained[3].”
Between the period of the Anglian crosses and the eleventh century--a
period of constant warfare and Danish incursions--we know little of any
arts except the illuminations and needlework already mentioned, but
towards the end of that period, the time shortly before or after the
Norman Conquest, amid the dry bones of dead Byzantesque art we may
discover some symptoms of a new living force. The grooved triple strands
of Anglian art terminate naturally in a sort of trefoil. The trefoil is
a bud-form ready to open further and to multiply its parts. It is
therefore suitable as a basis for the decoration of curved or flat
surfaces and to fill spaces of any shape. Apart from its obvious
symbolism the trefoil had inevitably found its way into art in all ages.
The thunderbolt of Zeus, the French lilies and the Prince of Wales’
feathers are all varieties of it. Once recognised as having these
capacities it was bound to be adopted and developed. But this
recognition and application implies vitality and ambition--the elements
of progress.
At Sompting, in Sussex, there is a string course, a portion of which has
been carried over a piscina (Pl. 2). The triple strands are straight, or
nearly so, and are interlaced like wicker-work. They terminate in
trefoils which are of two kinds: (i) one with a solid mid-rib running up
into the central lobe, and (ii) the other in which the central lobe is
hollowed to look almost like a loop. These two kinds must be intended to
represent (i) the back or lower surface of a leaf, and (ii) the front or
top surface. It will also be observed that in one instance in the
portion selected for our illustration, the tip of the central lobe is
turned over from the margin, where there was not room for it to expand.
This was no doubt a reminiscence of the turned-over tips of Acanthus in
Corinthian capitals. In these features are contained the germs from
which sprang later the famous Early English stiff-leaf sculpture.
In the Oxford Galleries there are some casts of ivories attributed to
the Anglo-Saxon period, in which the borders contain foliage sculpture
resembling the floreated borders of Anglo-Saxon manuscripts (Pl. 3),
also the reliefs on one of the slabs at Chichester have a row of what
look like Greek anthemia. These slabs belong to what is called the
Winchester school of sculpture, and they are supposed to be pre-Conquest
in date. Similar anthemia are seen on a slab at Stepney. Other
interesting remains are those of an ivory tau-cross and an ivory comb in
the British Museum. These show trefoils of both sorts and one certainly
curled over, also the half-opened leaves in profile. As we have said,
these are all attributed to Anglo-Saxon art, and they are certainly very
superior to any sculpture that we know to have been the work of Norman
masons either prior to or shortly after the Conquest. These works, like
the manuscripts and needlework, point to the presumption that in the
eleventh century and perhaps earlier, there existed among our
Anglo-Saxon forefathers monastic schools of art which reached a higher
standard of vigour and refinement than was again attained until the
Saxons had recovered from the degradation of the Conquest and were
absorbing their conquerors into a blended nationality.
It is often difficult to be sure whether some of this sculpture is
pre-or post-Conquest. The same Saxon masons, or their sons or pupils, no
doubt retained something of their hereditary traditions when called upon
to serve under other masters. In some more remote districts the
Conquest probably did not cause any cessation of building. But in the
twelfth century we find English influences changing the Romanesque as
first introduced into Anglo-Norman and then into the Transition into
Early English. When strands are beaded, it is generally regarded as a
sign that the work is post-Conquest, but we do not consider this
indisputable.
Setting aside the French Corinthian type introduced at Canterbury and
elsewhere, from the period when the trefoil began to hold sway we can
see two English rival forces competing, which we may call the
Traditional and the Progressive. Sometimes masons of the two kinds were
at work side by side in the same churches. At King’s Walden and Kimpton
(near St Albans) (Pl. 4) the alternate capitals in the same arcade show
these rivalries. The two were in competition towards the end of the
twelfth century, and ultimately the English Gothic type became
triumphant.
We have next to trace the development of Byzantesque and Romanesque
foliage up to the period when the former ceased and the Early English
stiff-leaf foliage became everywhere adopted in this country.