Constantine, by receiving baptism, effected the triumph of Christianity,
developed a kind of revival in the movement of the decorative arts, the
ideas of which were then exclusively directed to the exaltation of the
new faith. To construct numerous basilicas, to adorn them magnificently,
and by means of the chisel to embody in a material form the spiritualism
of the Gospel, were the objects of this pious monarch. Gold and silver
were the less spared, as marble was considered too common a substance in
which to represent the sacred personages of the divine hierarchy. At
Constantinople, in the basilica constructed by Constantine, there was
represented, on one side of the apse, a seated figure of our Saviour
surrounded by His twelve disciples; on the other side, Christ was
represented also sitting on a throne and accompanied by four angels, who
had precious stones of Alabanda, inlaid, to represent their eyes. All
these figures were life-size, and made of silver _repoussé_; each one
weighing from ninety to a hundred and ten pounds. In the same church, a
canopy representing the Apostles and cherubim in relief, of polished
silver, weighed more than two thousand pounds. But these splendours were
even eclipsed by those of the font of porphyry in which Constantine
received baptism from the hands of Bishop Sylvester. The part whence the
water flowed away was adorned with massive silver over an extent of five
feet, and for the purpose three thousand pounds of this precious metal
were employed. In the centre, columns of gold supported a lamp of the
same metal weighing fifty-two pounds, in which, during the feast of
Easter, two hundred pounds of perfumed oil were burnt. The water was
poured into the font through the image of a lamb of solid gold, weighing
thirty pounds. On the right was a life-size representation of our
Saviour, weighing a hundred and seventy pounds; on the left was a statue
of John the Baptist of the same size; while seven hinds of silver placed
around the font, and pouring water into the basin, harmonised in their
dimensions and materials with the other figures.
[Illustration: Fig. 272.--Altar of Castor (a Gallo-Roman Sculpture),
discovered in 1711 under the Choir of Notre-Dame, Paris.]
We would not assert that these works, pompously enumerated by
Anastasius, the Librarian, corresponded in purity and elevation of style
with the richness of the materials employed; for we know, on the
contrary, that in order to comply with the wishes of the powerful
emperor, artists were found who, by simple substitution of heads,
attributes, or inscriptions, converted without any scruple a Jupiter
into God the Father, or a Venus into a Virgin. The large cities were not
as yet depopulated of the innumerable crowd of statues which adorned
them; and it was only in provinces far from the metropolis that the
images of the false gods were buried under the fragments of their
overthrown temples (Figs. 272 and 273).
In fact, before the art had adopted, or rather created, the system of
Christian symbolism, it was absolutely necessary to borrow the elements
of its existence from the glorious materials of the past, and even to
imitate the works of Pagan art.
In Greece more than elsewhere--and by Greece we include
Constantinople--statuary preserved, under Constantino and his earliest
successors, a certain degree of power which we might call original. The
design still adhered to beautiful forms, and, in the arrangement of
subjects, the principles of the ancients were for a long time applied,
as if instinctively. Although artists no longer studied nature, they
were, at all events, surrounded by excellent models, which guided them
with somewhat imperious rule.
[Illustration: Fig. 273.--Altar of Jupiter Ceraunus (Gallo-Roman
Sculpture), discovered in 1711, under the Choir of Notre-Dame, Paris.]
We have already seen that, among the barbaric chiefs who invaded the
empire of the Cæsars and seated themselves on the Imperial throne of
Rome, were some who, at a certain period, professed to be, if not the
protectors of the Fine Arts, which had then sunk into torpor, at least
the preservers of the Greek and Roman monuments belonging to the noblest
epoch of Art. The statues were no longer broken down; the inscriptions
and bas-reliefs ceased to be mutilated; the triumphal arches (Fig. 274),
the palaces, and the theatres, were respected, or, rather, were left
standing. But a kind of deadness had come over the artistic world, and a
few sympathetic manifestations of this kind were not sufficient to
reanimate its enervated spirit; it was necessary that the period of
repose should be fully accomplished--a period which, in the views of
Providence, was perhaps a phase of profound contemplation or preparatory
development.
Nevertheless, although the art which gives life to marble and bronze--a
high style of sculpture--was in a stationary or retrograde state, the
lower kind, which we may call domestic, preserved some degree of
activity. For instance, it was then the custom for great personages to
send as presents diptychs of ivory, on the outer face of which were
carved bas-reliefs recalling some memorable event. Monarchs, on their
accession, were in the habit of conferring diptychs of this kind on the
governors of provinces and bishops; and the latter, in order to testify
to the good understanding existing between the civil and religious
authorities, placed the diptych on the altar. A marriage, a baptism, or
any success, gave occasion for the presentation of diptychs. For two
centuries artists lived on nothing but this kind of work. It needed
events of some very extraordinary character to cause the production of
any monument of real sculpture.
[Illustration: Fig. 274.--Restoration of a Roman Triumphal Arch, with
its Bas-reliefs.]
In the sixth century the cathedrals of Rome, Trèves, Metz, Lyons,
Rhodez, Arles, Bourges, and the abbeys of St. Médard at Soissons, St.
Ouen at Rouen, and St. Martin at Tours, are mentioned as remarkable; and
yet the walls of these edifices were nothing but bare stone, without
either ornament or sculpture. “To become living stones,” says M. J.
Duseigneur, “they had to wait for another age. The whole of the
ornamentation was exclusively applied to the altar and the baptismal
font. The tombs even of great personages present the most primitive
simplicity.” (Fig. 275.)
Ancient Gaul, in spite of its disasters, still retained, in certain
parts of its territory, men, or rather groups of men, in whose hearts
the cultivation of Art still remained a living principle. This was the
case in Provence, round the archbishops of Arles; in Austrasia (Metz),
near the throne of Brunehaut; in Burgundy, at the court of King Gontran.
Most of the works and even the names of these artists are now lost; but
history has recorded the movement, which was, as it were, a happy link
destined to abbreviate the solution of continuity in artistic tradition.
[Illustration: Fig. 275.--A Stone Tomb, of one of the first Abbots of
St. Germain-des-Prés, Paris.]
At the time when Greek art, in its degenerate state, had sunk down into
a department of mere goldsmith’s work, casting over Europe only a pale
and feeble light; when artists, in representing sacred or profane
subjects, contented themselves with simple medallions of bronze, gold,
or silver, which were generally inserted in a shrine, or suspended on
the walls; across the seas Byzantine art was springing into life; an art
which blended Hellenic reminiscences with Christian sentiment.
In the eighth century, the epoch of the uprising of the Iconoclasts
against images of all kinds, Byzantine sculpture had acquired certain
well-marked characteristics: rigidness of outline, meagreness of form,
elongation of the proportions, combined with great profuseness of
costume; all was the expression of saddened resignation and costly
grandeur. The monumental statuary of this age has, however, almost
entirely disappeared, and we should be nearly destitute of any accurate
record as to the state of Art for a period of several centuries, were it
not for numerous diptychs which, to some extent, supply this want. Many
of these sacred diptychs were exquisitely wrought. Gori, in his “Trésor
des Diptyques,” written in Latin and published at Florence in 1759,
divides these monuments into four classes: diptychs intended to receive
the names of the newly baptised; those wherein were written the names of
the benefactors of the church, sovereigns, and popes; and those destined
to preserve the memory of the faithful who had died in the bosom of the
church (Fig. 276). Their outward surface generally represented some
scene taken from the Evangelists, in which Christ was especially
depicted as young and beardless, his head glorified with a nimbus
without a cross. The more these representations were condemned, the more
they who paid respect to them endeavoured to perpetuate their use. The
Greek artists, being unable to find a livelihood in their own country,
made their way into Italy in such numbers that the popes Paul I., Adrian
I., and Pascal I., erected monasteries to receive them. Owing to the
influence of this immigration, Art, which in the West was germinating in
an undecided state between a weak style of originality and an awkward
mode of imitation, was compelled to assume a character of its own, and
this necessarily was the Byzantine character; that is, a manner which
was firm, clear, and, in general, impressed with a certain imposing
nobility of style. This style attained all the more success by its being
illustrated by very eminent artists, whom Charlemagne patronised as
fully adequate to the magnificence of his ideas; and also because the
richness of ornament which this style combined with its work was likely
to render it pleasing to the populace.
The royal palaces of Aix-la-Chapelle, Goddinga, Attiniacum, and
Theodonis Villa, and the monasteries of St. Arnulph, Trèves, St. Gall,
Salzbourg, and Prüm felt the salutary influence which Charlemagne
exercised on all kinds of Art. Prior to 1793, in these various
localities precious remains were still to be seen, reaching back to the
eighth century; they testified to the fact that, apart from Byzantine
influence, and bearing the impress of a simple Christian sentiment,
sculpture still clung, owing to Lombard ascendancy, to some of the grand
traditions of antiquity.
This union of principles gave rise to a number of works bearing a
remarkable character. The foundation of the abbeys of St. Mihiel
(Lorraine), Isle-Barbe (near Lyons), of Ambernay and Romans; the
erection of several of the great monasteries in Alsace, Soissonnais,
Brittany, Normandy, Provence, Languedoc, and Aquitaine; the construction
of the
[Illustration: Fig. 276.--Diptychs in Carved Ivory of the Eleventh
Century. (M. Rigollot’s Collection, Amiens.)
The first compartment represents St. Remy, Bishop of Rheims,
healing a paralytic; the second, St. Remy healing a sick man by the
invocation of the sacrament on the altar; the third, St. Remy,
assisted by a holy bishop, baptising King Clovis in the presence of
Queen Clotilda, and receiving from the Holy Spirit the sacred
_ampulla_.
]
important churches of Metz, Toul, Verdun, Rheims, Autun, &c.; the
restorations which took place at the abbeys of Bèze, St. Gall, St.
Benignus of Dijon, Remiremont, St. Arnulphe-lès-Metz, and Luxeuil, were
of sufficient importance to occupy an immense number of artists,
architects, and sculptors, who, like the monk Gundelandus, abbot of
Lauresheim, handled the compasses and the mallet with as much authority
as the crucifix. Nothing could equal the splendour of some of the
monasteries, which were perfect centres of genius and skill, in which
all the Fine Arts united were a mutual assistance to one another;
directed, perhaps, by a master who was himself inspired by a feeling for
elevated production (Fig. 277).
Nevertheless, the smaller examples of sculpture and carving constituted
the principal work of the artists of the eighth century. In the
execution of any larger objects they were deterred by a dread of the
Iconoclasts, who still continued their course of destruction, neither
was it much less after the death of Charlemagne, owing to the civil wars
and invasions which, in every direction, put a stop to or ruined
architectural works. A shrine or an altar might perhaps be saved, but a
church-front or doorway could not be protected; and the hereditary
hatred with which princes pursued one another did not fail to be wreaked
on their effigies. At that time there were neither artists nor monks;
every one became a soldier, and the common peril gave some energy to our
alarmed ancestors.
When these invasions had almost come to an end in Europe, the very
disasters they had caused assisted to some extent the progress both of
architecture and sculpture. In the first place there sprang up a
complete order of new buildings, originated by the need that arose for
fresh edifices for the purpose of public worship; the Church, having a
thousand disasters to repair, built or restored a number of monasteries
which assumed a decided character of individuality. The cathedrals of
Auxerre, Clermont, Toul, the Church of St. Paul at Verdun, the abbeys of
Montier-en-Der and of Gorze, of Munster, Cluny, Celles-sur-Cher, &c.,
were specially adorned with the sculptural characteristics of this
epoch. Crucifixes in high relief were multiplied, the introduction of
which into monumental sculpture did not take place before the
pontificate of Leo III. In the arched recesses over doorways
representations of the good and the bad were placed opposite to one
another; the worship of the Virgin was celebrated in all kinds of
artistic productions; and, in short, sculpture was displayed everywhere
with an extraordinary amount of richness. Nothing escaped, so to speak,
its luxurious growth: _ambons_,[47] seats, arches, baptismal fonts,
columns, cornices, bell-turrets, and gargoyles--everything, in short,
testified that sculpture and stone were now in full harmony. Almost all
the figures were then represented as clothed in the Roman style, with a
short tunic, and the chlamys clasped upon the shoulder; this still
continued to be the court-costume, and consequently the only one
suitable to the representation of the exalted followers of Christianity.
[Illustration: Fig. 277.--Bas-relief in the Abbey-Church of St. Denis; a
reproduction of the ancient Statue of Dagobert I., destroyed in the
Ninth Century.]
It is worthy of remark that the monuments of this age are generally
wanting both in dates and the name of the sculptor. Not more than five
or six of the principal artists or directors of artistic works of the
period are mentioned by name in any historical records. Among them,
however, are Tutilon, a monk of Saint-Gall, who at once poet, sculptor,
and painter, ornamented with his works the churches of Mayence and Metz;
Hugues, Abbot of Montier-en-Der; Austée, Abbot of St. Arnulph, in the
diocese of Metz; Morard, who, with the co-operation of King Robert,
rebuilt, towards the end of the tenth century, the old church of St.
Germain-des-Prés, at Paris; lastly, Guillaume, Abbot of St. Benignus, at
Dijon, who took under his direction forty monasteries, and became chief
of a school of Art, as well as their head on religious matters. The
doorways of the churches of Avallon, Nantua, and Vermanton, executed at
this epoch, bear witness to the rigour of an improved taste; and it may
be well said that this abbot Guillaume, who for a long series of years
directed a number of artists, who also in their turn became chiefs of
schools, exercised as powerful an influence on French art as Nicholas of
Pisa on Tuscan art in the following century.
But although it embraced within its influence a very extended sphere,
the school of Burgundy did not fail to find on the ancient Gallic soil
very skilful and industrious rivals. The districts of Messin, Lorraine,
Alsace, Champagne, Normandy, and the Ile-de-France, in short all the
various centres of the South, possessed numerous artists, each of whom
impressed on their works their own special character of individuality.
While all this activity was prevailing in France, Italy had as yet taken
so insignificant a part in the revival of Art, that in 976 Peter
Orseolo, Doge of Venice, having formed the idea of rebuilding the
basilica of St. Mark, was compelled to summon from Constantinople both
architects and artists.
A period of check to any progress took place in France, however, just as
in all the rest of Europe, when, at the approach of the year 1000, the
whole population became subject to an ideal dread that the end of the
world was at hand; but when this date was once passed, every school of
art set vigorously to work, and the most remarkable monuments of
Romanesque architecture sprang up throughout Europe in every direction.
Then it was that the artists of Burgundy built and ornamented, among
other churches and monasteries, the Abbey of Cluny, the apse of which
consisted of a bold cupola, supported by six columns thirty-six feet in
height, of
[Illustration: Fig. 278.--Tomb of Dagobert, executed by order of St.
Louis, in the Abbey-Church of St. Denis. It represents the King carried
away by Demons, after his death, towards the Infernal Bark, from which
he is rescued by Angels and the Fathers of the Church. (Thirteenth
Century.)]
Cipolin and Pentelican marble, with captials, cornices, and friezes,
carved painted, and decorated with bronze. In Lorraine they worked at
the cathedrals of Toul and Verdun, and the abbey of St. Viton. In the
diocese of Metz Gontran and Adélard, celebrated abbots of St. Trudon,
covered Hasbaye with new buildings. “Adélard,” says a chronicler,
“superintended the construction of fourteen churches, and his outlay was
so great that the imperial treasury would scarcely have sufficed for
it.” In Alsace, the cathedral at Strasbourg and the two churches of
Colmar and Schelestadt simultaneously arose, and in Switzerland the
Cathedral of Basle. These magnificent edifices are still standing to
show the vigour and majestic simplicity with which the art of sculpture
was then able to embody its ideas; and, by lending its aid to
architecture, to manifest, so to speak, the faith which actuated it. It
was in this century that Fulbert, Bishop of Chartres, who was doubtless
a sculptor also, superintended the restoration of his church, the
splendour of which is still open to the admiration of all. Art, too, did
not less distinguish herself in the decoration of certain additions made
at that time to edifices already existing. The doorways of the churches
of Laon, Châteaudun, and St. Ayoult of Provins, grand works of the
earliest years of the twelfth century, yield the palm only to the
splendid external ornamentation of the Abbey of St. Denis, executed
between the years 1137 and 1180. The Abbot Suger, who was himself an
eminent artist, does not name any of the sculptors to whose care this
important task was committed. We are equally ignorant as to the
sculptors of the statues of Dagobert and of Queen Nanthilde, his wife;
and also as to the artists of a large golden crucifix, the foot of which
was enriched with bas-reliefs, and the figure of Christ, that presented,
says Suger, “an expression really divine.” The names of the sculptors of
the cathedral church of Paris are likewise concealed from our
admiration. One might suppose that a body of artists fired with the same
inspiration, and with a common sentiment both in thought and action, had
there assembled to design their works; some sculpturing in marble the
sarcophagus of Philip of France; some peopling the rood-loft and the
apse with tall figures and a long gallery of Biblical subjects; others
decorating the façade and exterior with statues, all of every
diversified character, but yet all appearing to unite in the expression
of the same feelings and the same faith (Fig. 279).
In the twelfth century, the Burgundian artists continued their
marvellous
[Illustration: Fig. 279.--External Bas-relief of Norte-Dame, in Paris,
representing Citizens relieving Poor Scholars. (The work of Jean de
Chelles. Date 1257.)]
work. The tomb of Hugues, Abbot of Cluny; the doorway of the monastery
of St. Jean, that of the Church of St. Lazare at Autun; the nave and the
west front of Semur-en-Auxois, are all of this school, and of this
epoch.
The school of Champagne raised to the memory of Count Henry I., in the
Church of St. Etienne, at Troyes, a tomb surrounded with forty-four
columns of gilded bronze, surmounted by a slab of silver on which were
placed, in a recumbent position, the statues of the Count and of one of
his sons; bas-reliefs, in bronze and silver, representing the Holy
Family, the celestial court, angels, and prophets, surrounded this
monument. The tomb of Count Henry was a triumph of sculpture in metal;
and, at that time, surpassed all other tombs in France, just as the
Cathedral of Rheims was destined, ere long, to excel all others.
In Normandy we find the same enthusiasm, the same zeal, the same skill
in Art; and there, at least, we learn the names of some of the artists:
Otho, the builder of the Cathedral of Séez; Garnier, of Fécamp;
Anquetil, of Petit-Ville, &c. The masons and sculptors, too, formed at
this epoch a numerous and powerful corporation.
In the South, Asquilinus, Abbot of Moissac, near Cahors, ornamented with
fine statues the cloister and front of his church, and affixed to the
sides of the apse a Crucifixion so skilfully carved, that it was
believed to have emanated from some divine hand (“ut non humano, sed
divino artificio facta”). In Auvergne, Provence, and Languedoc, many
other important works of sculpture were executed. But the chief
masterpiece of all, which combines the different styles of the southern
schools, is the famous Church of St. Trophimus of Arles, the front of
which, where the breadth and grace of the Greek style is allied with the
purest Christian simplicity, carries back the imagination to the
brightest epochs of the art.
Towards the end of the eleventh and the commencement of the twelfth
century, the sculptors’ studios of the districts of Messin and Lorraine
were in full activity. Several magnificent churches having been
destroyed by fire, particularly that of Verdun, the whole population
assisted, either with money or labour, in the restoration of these
edifices. It was a perfect artistic crusade, in which several bishops
and abbots, who were clever artists as well as spiritual chiefs, took
the lead in the movement.
In Alsace, art asserted its position in the magnificent Cathedral of
Strasbourg,[48] a kind of challenge thrown out to the artists on the
other side of the Rhine, who were unable, even at Cologne, to carry an
edifice to such an
[Illustration: CLOVIS I. AND CLOTILDE HIS WIFE.
Statues formerly at the Entrance of the Church of Notre Dame at Corbeil.
Twelfth Century.]
enormous height, or to adorn it with such a diversified multitude of
statues. Although belonging more especially to the thirteenth century,
it may be taken as the starting-point of the prodigious works executed
by an association of freemasons, who have marked with their hieroglyphic
signatures the stones of this edifice, as of all others executed by them
in the valley of the Rhine, from Dusseldorf to the Alps.
We are, however, led to believe that Germany also did not fail to be
subject to the influence of this artistic school, for among contemporary
monuments are several in a style which manifestly testifies to the
effects of the neighbouring country of Alsace.
Flemish art of that time is exemplified by the Church of St. Gudule at
Brussels, the style of which is especially rich with decorations
borrowed from churches on the banks of the Rhine, the Moselle, the
Sarre, and the Upper Meuse.
If we include in one comprehensive glance French, German, and Flemish
sculptural works, we shall recognise in all, notwithstanding the
predominance of any particular school, one original and special type.
The characteristics of this are elongated faces with a calm,
contemplative, and penitent expression; stiffness of attitude, and a
kind of ecstatic immobility, rather than any glow of animation;
draperies with small narrow folds and close-fitting, as if wetted;
pearled fringes or ribbons, set off with gems (Fig. 280). We see statues
of lofty proportions reared up; representations of various personages
are multiplied on the tombs; Greek art is disappearing and its learned
theories are giving way before Christian sentiment; thought is obtaining
the mastery over mere form; symbolism makes its appearance and becomes a
science.
[Illustration: Fig. 280.--Statue said to be of Clovis I., formerly in
the porch of St. Germain-des-Prés, Paris. (Twelfth Century.)]