CONTENTS.
Gothic details—Pillars—Windows—Circular windows—Bays—Vaults—Buttresses—
Pinnacles—Spires—Decoration—Construction—Furniture of churches—
Domestic architecture.
ALTHOUGH in the preceding pages, in describing the principal churches of
France, mention has been made of the various changes of detail which
took place from the time of the introduction of the pointed style till
its abandonment in favour of the revived classical, still it seems
necessary to recapitulate the leading changes that were introduced. This
will be most fitly done before we leave the subject of French
architecture, that being on the whole the most complete and harmonious
of all the pointed styles, as well as the earliest.
PILLARS.
Of these details, the first that arrests the attention of the inquirer
is the form of the pillars or piers used in the Middle Ages, inasmuch as
it is the feature that bears the most immediate resemblance to the
typical forms of preceding styles. Indeed, the earlier pillars in the
round-arched style were virtually rude imitations of Roman originals,
made so thick and heavy as to bear without apparent stress the whole
weight of the arches they supported, and of the superincumbent wall.
This increase of the weight laid upon the pillars, and consequently in
their strength and heaviness, was the great change introduced into the
art of building in the early round Gothic style. With the same
requirements the classic architects either must have thickened their
pillars immensely, or coupled them in some way. Indeed the Romans, in
such buildings as the Colosseum, placed the pillars in front and a pier
behind, which last was the virtual support of the wall. The Gothic
architects improved on this by adding a pillar, or rather a half pillar,
on each side, to receive the pier arches, and carrying up those behind
and in front to support the springing of the vault or roof, instead of
the useless entablature of the Romans.
By this means the pier became in plan what is represented in figs. 1 and
2 in the diagram (Woodcut No. 648). Sometimes it was varied, as
represented in fig. 3, where the angle-shafts were only used to lighten
the apparent heaviness of the central mass; in other examples both these
modes are combined, as in fig. 4, which not only constructively, but
artistically, is one of the most beautiful combinations which the square
forms are capable of, combining great strength with great lightness of
appearance, and variety of light and shade.
These four forms may be said to be typical in the South, where the style
was derived so directly from the Roman square pier combined with an
attached circular pillar.
In the North the Normans, and generally speaking, all the Frankish
tribes, used the circular pillar in preference to the square pier, and
consequently the variations were as shown in figs. 5, 6, 7, and 8,
which, though forming beautiful combinations, wanted the accentuation
produced by the contrast between the square and round forms.
[Illustration: 648. Diagram of Plans of Pillars.]
The architects after a time seemed to have felt this, and tried to
remedy it by introducing ogee forms and sharp edges, with deep undercut
shadows, thus applying to the pillars those forms which had been
invented for the mouldings of the ribs of the vaults, and for the
tracery of the windows. The expedient was perfectly successful at first,
and, so long as it was practised in moderation, gave rise to some of the
most beautiful forms of pillars to be found in any style. It proved,
however, too tempting an opportunity for the indulgence of every sort of
quirk and quibble; and after passing through the shapes shown in figs. 9
and 10, where the meaning of all the parts is still sufficiently
manifest, it became as complicated as fig. 11, and sometimes even more
cut up, so that all meaning and beauty was lost. It became moreover very
expensive and difficult to execute, so that in later times the
architects reverted, either to circular pillars, or to such a form as
that shown in fig. 12, which was introduced in the 16th century. The
change may have been partly introduced from motives of economy, and also
to some extent from a desire to imitate the flutings of classical
pillars; but from whatever motive it arose, it is singularly unmeaning
and inartistic; and as the capital was at the same time omitted, the
whole pillar took an appearance of cold poverty entirely at variance
with the true spirit of Gothic art. This last change showed, perhaps
more clearly than those introduced into any other feature, how entirely
the art had died away before the classical styles superseded it.
WINDOWS.
Before painted glass came into use, very small apertures sufficed to
admit the required quantity of light into the churches. These openings
retained their circular-arched heads long after the pointed form
pervaded the vaults and pier arches, because the architects still
thought them the most beautiful; they moreover occupied so small a
portion of the wall spaces that their lines neither came in contact nor
interfered with the constructive lines of the building itself; but when
it was required to enlarge them for the purpose of receiving large
pictures, the retention of the circular form was no longer practicable.
[Illustration: 649. Window, St. Martin, Paris. (From ‘Paris
Archéologique.’)]
[Illustration: 650. Window of Nave of Cathedral at Chartres.]
[Illustration: 651. Window in Choir of Cathedral at Chartres.]
The Woodcut No. 622, showing the side elevation of Notre Dame at Paris,
illustrates well three stages of this process as practised in the 12th
and 13th centuries. It exhibits first the large undivided window without
mullions, the glass being supported by strong iron bars; next, that with
one mullion and a circular rose in the head; and lastly, in the lower
storey, a complete traceried window. The transition from the old small
window to the first of these is easily explained, and the Woodcut No.
649, representing one of the windows in St. Martin at Paris, will
explain the transition from the first to the second. Instead of one
large undivided opening, it was often thought more expedient to
introduce two lancets side by side; but as these never filled, nor could
fill, the space of one bay so as to follow its principal lines, it
became usual to introduce a circular window of greater or less size
between their heads. This, with the rude construction of the age,
presented certain difficulties which were obviated by carrying the
masonry of the vault through the wall so as to form a discharging arch.
When once this was done it required only a glance from an experienced
builder to see that if the discharging arch were strong enough, the
whole of the wall between the buttresses might be removed without
endangering the safety of the building. This was accordingly soon done.
The pier between the two lancets became attenuated into a mullion, the
circle lost its independence, and was grouped with them under the
discharging arch, which was carried down each side in boldly splayed
jambs, and the whole became in fact a traceried window.
[Illustration: 652. Window at Rheims.]
[Illustration: 653. Window at St. Ouen.]
In the cathedral at Chartres we have examples of the two extremes of
these transitional windows. In the windows of the aisles of the nave
(Woodcut No. 650) the circle is small and insignificant, and only serves
to join together the two lancets. In the clerestory (Woodcut No. 651),
which is somewhat later, the circle is all important and quite
overpowers the lower part. Here it is in fact a circular window,
supported by a rectilinear substructure. In both these instances the
discharging arch still retains its circular form, and the tracery is
still imperfect, inasmuch as all the openings are only holes of various
forms cut into a flat surface, whereas to make it perfect, it is
necessary that the lines of two contiguous openings should blend
together, being separated by a straight or curved moulded mullion, and
not merely pierced as they are in this instance. This may perhaps be
better illustrated by one of the windows of the side-aisles at Rheims,
where the pointed Gothic window has become complete in all its essential
parts. Even here it will be observed how awkwardly the circle fits into
the spherical triangle of the upper part of the window. Indeed, there is
an insuperable awkwardness in the small triangles necessarily left in
fitting circles into the spaces above the lancets, and beneath the
pointed head of the openings. When four or five lights were used instead
of two, this defect became more apparent; and even in the example from
St. Ouen (Woodcut No. 653). one of the most beautiful in France, the
architect has not been able to obviate the discordance between the
conflicting lines of the circle and spherical triangle. At last, after
two centuries of earnest trial, the builders of those days found
themselves constrained to abandon entirely these beautiful constructive
geometric forms, for tracery of a more manageable nature, and in place
of the circle they invented first a flowing tracery, of which the window
at Chartres (Woodcut No. 654) is an exquisite example; and then having
shaken off the trammels of constructive form, launched at once into all
the vagaries of the flamboyant style. In this style stone tracery was
made to look bent and twisted, as willow wands. Its forms, it must be
confessed, were always graceful, but constructively weak, and frequently
extravagant, showing a complete contrast to the contemporary
perpendicular style followed in England. That failed from the stiffness
of its forms; this from the fantastic pliancy with which so rigid a
material as stone was used. Greatness or grandeur was as impossible in
flamboyant tracery, as grace and beauty were with the perpendicular
style; still for domestic edifices, and for the smaller churches erected
in the 16th century, it must be confessed the flamboyant style has a
charm it is impossible to resist. It is so graceful and so fantastically
brilliant, that it captivates in spite of our soberer reason, lending as
it does an elegance to every edifice where it is found, and finding its
parallel alone among the graceful fancies of the Saracenic architects of
the best age.
[Illustration: 654. Window at Chartres.]
CIRCULAR WINDOWS.
By far the most brilliant examples of this class in France are to be
found among the great circular windows with which the west ends and
transepts of the cathedrals were adorned. There is, I believe, no
instance in France of the great straight-mullioned windows of which our
architects were so fond, and even where the east end terminates
squarely, as at Laon, it has a great rose window. There can be little
doubt that the circle, so long as it was wholly adhered to, was the
noblest form architecturally, both externally and internally; but when
the triforium below it was pierced, and the lower angles outside the
circle were filled with tracery, making it into something like our great
windows, the result was a confusion of the two modes, in which the
advantages of neither were preserved.
Of the earlier circular windows, one of the finest is that in the
western front at Chartres (Woodcut No. 655), of imperfect tracery, like
the greater part of that cathedral, but of great size and majesty. Its
diameter is 39 ft. across the openings, and 44 ft. 6 in. across to the
outer mouldings of the circle. Those of the transepts are smaller, being
only 33 ft. across the opening, but show a considerable advance in the
art of tracery, which by the time they were executed was becoming far
better understood.
[Illustration: 655. West Window, Chartres.]
[Illustration: 656. Transept Window, Chartres.]
[Illustration: 657. West Window, Rheims.]
[Illustration: 658. West Window, Evreux.]
If space admitted, it would be easy to select examples to trace the
progress of the invention between these early efforts and the almost
perfect window that adorns the centre of the west front at Rheims
(Woodcut No. 657); and again from this to that at Evreux (Woodcut No.
658). In the latter instance, the geometric forms have given way to the
lace-work of flowing tracery, of which this is a pleasing example. It is
further remarkable in respect that all the parts of the tracery or
mullions are of the same thickness, whereas it is usual in flowing or
flamboyant tracery to introduce a considerable degree of subordination
into the parts, dividing them into greater or smaller ribs, thus
avoiding confusion and giving to the whole a constructive appearance
which it otherwise would not possess. This is very apparent in such a
window as that which adorns the west front of St. Ouen, at Rouen, where
the parts are distinctly subordinated to one another, and have
consequently that strength and character which it is so difficult to
impart. It also exemplifies what was before alluded to, viz., the mode
in which the lower external angles of the circle were filled up, and
also, in a far more pleasing manner than usual, the mode in which the
pierced triforium is made to form part of the decoration. Owing to the
strong transom bar here employed, there is strength enough to support
the superstructure; but as too often is the case, when this is subdued
and kept under, there is a confusion between the circular and upright
parts, which is not pleasing. It is then neither a circular nor an
upright window, but an indeterminate compound of two pleasing members,
in which both suffer materially by juxtaposition.
[Illustration: 659. West Window, St. Ouen. (From Pugin.)]
I believe it is safe to assert, that out of at least a hundred
first-class examples of these circular windows, which still exist in
France, no two are alike. On the contrary, they present the most
striking dissimilarity of design. There is no feature on which the
French architects bestowed more pains, or in which they were more
successful. They are, indeed, the _chefs-d’œuvre_ of their decorative
abilities, and the most pleasing individual features of their greater
churches. At the same time, they completely refute the idea that the
pointed form is at all necessary for the production of beauty in
decorative apertures.
BAYS.
It may be useful here to recapitulate what has been said of the
subdivision of churches into bays, or, as the French call them,
_travées_. The two typical arrangements of these are shown in Woodcuts
Nos. 616 and 617, as existing before the introduction of the pointed
forms. In the first a great gallery runs over the whole of the side
aisle, introduced partly as a constructive expedient to serve the
purpose for which flying buttresses were afterwards employed, partly as
enabling the architect to obtain the required elevation without
extraordinarily tall pillars or wide pier-spaces, both which were beyond
the constructive powers of the earlier builders. These galleries were
also useful as adding to the accommodation of the church, as people were
able thence to see the ceremonies performed below, and to hear the mass
and music as well as from the floor of the church. These advantages were
counterbalanced by the greater dignity and architectural beauty of the
second arrangement (Woodcut No. 617) where the whole height was divided
into that of the side-aisles and of a clerestory, separated from one
another by a triforium gallery, which represented in fact the depth of
the wooden roof requisite to cover the side-aisles. When once this
simple and beautiful arrangement was adopted, it continued with very
little variation throughout the Middle Ages.[358] The proportions
generally used were to make the aisles half the height of the nave. In
other words, the string-course below the triforium divided the height
into two equal parts; the space above that was divided into three, of
which two were allotted to the clerestory, and one to the
triforium.[359] It is true there is perhaps no single instance in which
the proportions here given are exactly preserved, but they sufficiently
represent the general division of the parts, from which the architects
only deviated slightly, sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other,
according to their taste or caprice. The only really important change
afterwards introduced was that of glazing the triforium gallery also, by
adopting a flat roof, or one nearly so, over the side-aisles, as the
nave in the church of St. Ouen at Rouen, or by covering each bay by a
pyramidal roof not seen from the interior, as is shown in the Woodcuts
Nos. 621 and 641; the whole walls of the church, with the slight
exception of the spandrils of the great pier-arches, having thus become
walls of glass, the mass of the vault being supported only by the deep
and bold constructive lines of which the framework of the glazed
surfaces consists.
In England, we have not, as far as I am aware, any instance of a glazed
triforium, but it is one of the most fascinating features in the later
styles of the French architects, and where it retains its coloured
glass, which is indispensable, produces the most fairy-like effect. It
is however, questionable whether the deep shadow and constructive
propriety of the English practice is not on the whole more satisfactory.
In a structure of glass and iron nothing could be more appropriate than
the French practice; but in a building of stone and wood more solidity
is required to produce an effect which shall be permanently pleasing.
VAULTS.
It has already been explained how essential a part of a Gothic church
the vault was, and how completely it was the governing power that gave
form to the art. We have also seen the various steps by which the
architects arrived at the intersecting vault, which became the typical
form in the best age. In France especially the stone vault was retained
throughout as a really essential feature, for though the English were so
successful in the art of constructing ornamental wooden roofs, the
practice never prevailed in France.
[Illustration: 660. Diagram of Vaulting.]
In the best age the arrangement of the French vaults was extremely
simple. The aisles were generally built in square compartments, the
vaults of which were first circumscribed, each by four equal arches
(Woodcut No. 660), of which A A were transverse ribs or _arcs doubleaux_
as the French called them, and were used, as we have seen, in the old
tunnel-vaults. These arches, as springing from the main points of
support, were the principal strengtheners of the vault, and served as
permanent centres for the superstructure. B was called the _formeret_,
and was a rib built into the wall, of the same form as the transverse
ribs, and so called because, being the first constructed, it gave the
form to the vault. Lastly, there were two more ribs springing from angle
to angle, and intersecting one another at C. These were called _ogives_,
from the Latin word _augere_, to strengthen,[360] the chief object of
their employment however being to serve as centering. In Roman vaulting
similar ribs were employed, but the spaces between were subsequently
filled in flush with concrete. In Renaissance and in modern work (such
as in cellar or dock-vaults, for instance), when built in brick, stone
voussoirs are used for the groins, because the brickwork used there
would be liable to be crushed or fall out; here also the stone is flush
with the brickwork, but the Mediæval architects recognised the value of
the rib, not only as a permanent centre, but as suggesting the
appearance as well as the reality of strength.
The roof of the nave was composed of precisely the same parts, only
that, being twice as wide as each compartment was broad, the length of
the transverse ribs and of the intersecting ogives was greater in
proportion to the formerets than in the aisles. Another addition, and
certainly an improvement, was the introduction of ridge-ribs (D D),
marking the point of the vault. These could not of course be used with
circular arches, where there was no centre line for them to mark; and it
probably was from this cause that the French seldom adopted them, having
been accustomed to vaults not requiring them. Another reason was that
all their earlier vaults were more or less domical, or in other words
the point C was higher than the points A or B, though this is more
apparent in hexapartite vaults, or where one compartment of the
nave-vaults takes in two of the aisles, than in quadripartite, like
those now under consideration. Still all French vaults have this
peculiarity more or less, and consequently the longitudinal ridge-rib,
where used, has an up and down broken appearance, which is extremely
disagreeable, and must in a great measure have prevented its adoption.
There is, however, at least one exception to this rule in France, in the
abbey church of Souvigny, represented in the Woodcut No. 661, where this
rib is used with so pleasing an effect that one is surprised it was not
in more general favour.
[Illustration: 661. Abbey Church, Souvigny. (From ‘L’Ancien
Bourbonnais.’)]
These are the only features usually employed by French architects: but
we do sometimes find tiercerons, or secondary ogives, used to strengthen
as well as to ornament the plain faces of the vaults, one or two on each
face, as at E E (in Woodcut No. 660); small ribs or _liernes_, F F, from
_lier_, to bind, were also occasionally used to connect all these at the
centre, where they formed star patterns, and other complicated but
beautiful ornaments of the vault. These last, however, are rare and
exceptional in French vaulting, though they were treated by the English
architects with such success that we wonder they were not more generally
adopted in France. The most probable explanation appears to be that the
French architects depended more on colour than on relief for the effect
of their vaults, while in England colour was sparingly used, its place
being supplied by constructive carving. Whatever may have been the
comparative merits of the two methods when first used, the English
vaults have a great advantage now, inasmuch as the carving remains,
while the paintings of the others have perished, and we have no means
left of judging of their original effect.
One of the most beautiful features of French vaulting, almost entirely
unknown in this country, is the great polygonal vault of the semi-dome
of the chevet, which as an architectural object few will be disinclined
to admit is, with its walls of painted glass and its light constructive
roof, a far more beautiful thing than the plain semi-dome of the
basilican apse, notwithstanding its mosaics. Still, as the French used
it, they never quite surmounted the difficulties of its construction;
and in their excessive desire to do away with all solid wall, and to get
the greatest possible surface for painted glass, they often distorted
these vaults in a very unpleasing manner.
The chevet of Pontigny (Woodcut No. 643) presents a good example of the
early form of vault, which owing to the small size of the windows and
general sobriety of the composition, avoids the defects above alluded
to. Of the later examples there are few, except that of Souvigny,
represented in Woodcut No. 661, where the difficulty has been entirely
conquered by constructing the spandrils with pierced tracery, so that
the vault virtually springs from nearly the same height as the arch of
the windows, and a very slight improvement would have made this not only
constructively, but artistically perfect. This is a solitary specimen,
and one which, though among the most beautiful suggestions of Gothic
art, has found no admirers, or at least no imitators.
Notwithstanding this difficulty of construction, these pierced
semi-domes are not only the best specimens of French vaulting, but are
among the most beautiful inventions of the Middle Ages, and form a finer
termination to the cathedral vista than either the great windows of the
English, or the wonderful rose windows of the French cathedrals.
BUTTRESSES.
The employment of buttresses was a constructive expedient that followed
almost indispensably on the use of vaults for the roofing of churches.
It was necessary either to employ enormously thick walls to resist the
thrust, or to support them by some more scientific arrangement of the
materials. The theory of the buttress will be easily understood from the
diagram (Woodcut No. 662), representing seven blocks or masses of
masonry, disposed first so as to form a continuous wall, but which
evidently affords very little resistance to a thrust or push tending to
overturn it from within. The left-hand arrangement is, from the
additional breadth of base in the direction of the thrust, much less
liable to fall outwards, provided the distance of the blocks from one
another is not too great, and the mass of the vault does not press
heavily on the intermediate space. This last difficulty was so much felt
by the earlier French architects that, as we have seen, in the South of
France especially, they used the roof of the side-aisle as a continuous
buttress to resist the thrust of their tunnel-vaults. It was surmounted
also by the introduction of intersecting vaults, inasmuch as by this
expedient all the thrusts were collected together at a point over each
pier, and a resisting mass applied on that one point was sufficient to
give all the stability required. This, and the desire of raising the
lights as high as possible into the roof, were the principal causes that
brought this form of vaulting into general use; still it has not yet
been shown that the continuous vault is not artistically the more
beautiful of the two forms, if not constructively so also.
[Illustration: 662. Diagram of Buttresses.]
There was yet another difficulty to be mastered, which was that the
principal vault to be abutted was that over the nave or central part of
the church, and buttresses of the requisite depth would have filled up
the side-aisles entirely. The difficulty first presented itself in the
building of the basilica of Maxentius (Woodcut No. 203), and was there
got over in something like the manner practically adopted in the Middle
Ages, except that the arch was there carried inside, whereas the Gothic
architects threw the abutting arch across on the outside and above the
roof.
[Illustration: 663. Flying Buttress of St. Ouen. (From Batissier,
‘Histoire de l’Art.’)]
Several of the previous woodcuts[361] show the system of flying
buttresses in various stages of advancement. The view of one of those of
the choir of St. Ouen (No. 663) exhibits the system in its greatest
degree of development. Here there are two vertical and two flying
buttresses, forming a system of great lightness, but at the same time of
immense constructive strength, and when used sparingly and with
elegance, as in this instance, constituting an object of great beauty.
The abuse of this expedient, as in the cathedral at Cologne and
elsewhere, went very far to mar the proper effect.
The cathedral at Chartres presents a singular but very beautiful
instance of an earlier form of flying buttress: there the immense span
of the central vault put the architects on their mettle to provide a
sufficient abutment, and they did it by building what was literally an
open wall across the aisle (see Woodcut No. 628), strongly arched, and
the arches connected by short strong pillars radiating with the
voussoirs of the arch. Nothing could well be stronger and more
scientific than this, but the absence of perpendicularity in the pillars
was unpleasing to the eye then as now, and the contrivance was never
repeated.
[Illustration: 664. Flying Buttress at Amiens. (From Chapuy.)]
A far more pleasing form was that adopted afterwards at Amiens (Woodcut
No. 664) and elsewhere, where a series of small traceried arches stand
on the lower flying buttress, and support the upper, which is
straight-lined. Even here, however, the difficulty is not quite got
over; the unequal height of these connecting arches, and the awkward
angle which the lower supports make with the curvilinear form on which
they rest, deprive them of that constructive propriety which alone
secures a perfectly satisfactory result in architecture. The problem
indeed is one which the French never thoroughly solved, though they
bestowed immense pains upon it. Brilliant as the effect sometimes is of
the immense mass of pinnacles and flying buttresses, they are seldom so
put together as to leave an entirely satisfactory result on the mind of
the spectator. Taken all in all, perhaps the most pleasing example is
that of Rheims (Woodcut No. 629)—those on each side of the nave
especially—where two bold simple arches transmit the pressure from a
bold exquisitely pinnacled buttress to the sides of the clerestory, and
in such a manner as to leave no doubt whatever either as to their
purpose or their sufficiency to accomplish their object.
Notwithstanding the beauty which the French attained in their flying
buttresses, it is still a question whether they did not carry this
feature too far. It must be confessed that there is a tendency in the
abuse of the system to confuse the outlines and to injure the true
architectural effect of the exterior. Internally it no doubt enabled
them to lighten their piers and increase the size of their windows to an
unlimited extent, and to judge fairly we must balance between the gain
to the interior, and the external disadvantages. This we shall be better
able to do when considering the next constructive expedient, which was
that of the introduction of pinnacles.
PINNACLES.
The use of pinnacles, considered independently of their ornamental
purposes, is evident enough. It is obvious that a wall or pillar which
has to resist the thrust of a vault or any other power exerted
laterally, depends for its stability on its thickness, its solidity, and
generally on its lateral strength. A material consideration, as
affecting this solidity, is that of weight. The most frequent use of
pinnacles by the French was to surmount the piers from which the flying
buttresses sprang. To these piers weight and solidity were thus
imparted, rendering them a sufficiently steady abutment to the flying
arches, which in their turn abutted the central vaults.
It must be understood that these expedients of buttresses and pinnacles
were only employed to support the central roof of the nave. The vaults
of the aisles were so narrow as not to require any elaborate system of
abutments for their support—the ordinary thickness of the walls would
have sufficed for that purpose; but they also had the advantage of the
use of the supports designed for the larger vaults.
As a general rule the English architects never hesitated to weight their
walls so as to apply the resistance directly on the point required, and
not only adorned the roofs of their churches with pinnacles, but raised
towers and lanterns on the intersections on all occasions. The French,
on the other hand, always preferred placing these objects, not _on_
their churches, but rather grouped around them, and springing from the
ground. This, it is true, enabled them to indulge in height and
lightness internally to an extent unknown in England. This extravagance
proved prejudicial to the true effect even of the interior, while
externally the system was very destructive of grace and harmony. A
French cathedral is generally solid and simple, as high as the parapet
of the side-aisles, but above this base the forest of pinnacles and
buttresses that spring from it entirely obscure the clerestory, and
confuse its lines. Above this again the great mass and simple form of
the high steep roof, unbroken by pinnacles or other ornaments, contrasts
unpleasingly with the lightness and confused lines immediately below it.
This inconsistency tends to mar the beauty of French cathedrals, and
even of their churches, though in the smaller buildings the effect is
less glaring owing to the smallness of the parts.
SPIRES.
An easy transition leads from pinnacles to spires, the latter being but
the perfect development of the former, and each requiring the assistance
of the other in producing a thoroughly harmonious effect. Still their
uses were widely different, for the spire never was a constructive
expedient, or useful in any way. Indeed, of all architectural features,
it is the one perhaps to which it is least easy to apply any utilitarian
rule.
Towers were originally introduced in Christian edifices partly as
bell-towers, partly as symbols of power, and sometimes perhaps as
fortifications, to which may be added the general purpose of ornamenting
the edifices to which they were attached, and giving to them that
dignity which elevation always conveys.
From the tower the spire arose first as a wooden roof, and as height was
one of the great objects to be attained in building the tower, it was
natural to eke this out by giving the roof an exaggerated elevation
beyond what was actually required as a mere protection from the weather.
When once the idea was conceived of rendering it an ornamental feature,
the architects were not long in carrying it out. The first and most
obvious step was that of cutting off the angles, making it an octagon,
and carrying up the angles of the tower by pinnacles, with a view to
softening the transition between the perpendicular and sloping part, and
reducing it again to harmony.
One of the earliest examples in which this transition is successfully
accomplished is in the old spire at Chartres (Woodcut No. 627); the
change from the square to the octagon, and from the tower to the
pyramid, being managed with great felicity. The western spires of St.
Stephen’s abbey at Caen (Woodcut No. 613), though added in the age of
pointed Gothic to towers of an earlier age, are also pleasing specimens.
But perhaps one of the very best in France, for its size and age, is
that of St. Pierre at Caen (Woodcut No. 665), uniting in itself all the
properties of a good design without either poverty or extravagance. The
little lantern of Ste. Marie de l’Épine (Woodcut No. 644), though small,
is as graceful an object as can well be designed; and the new spire at
Chartres (Woodcut No. 627), as before remarked, is, except as regards
the defects inherent in its age, one of the most beautiful in Europe.
This feature is nevertheless, it must be confessed, rarer in France than
might be expected. This is perhaps owing to many spires having been of
wood, to their having been allowed to decay, and to their removal; while
in other instances it is certain that the design of erecting them has
been abandoned in consequence of the tower, when finished, having been
found insufficient to bear their weight.
[Illustration: 665. St. Pierre, Caen. (From Chapuy.)]
The ruined church of St. John at Soissons has two, which are still of
great beauty. At Bayeux are two others, not very beautiful in
themselves, but which group pleasingly with a central lantern of the
Renaissance age.[362] And at Coutances there are two others of the best
age (Woodcut No. 634), which combined with a central octagonal lantern
make one of the most beautiful groups of towers in France. Here the
pitch of the roof is very low, and altogether the external design of the
building is much more in accordance with the canons of art prevalent on
this side of the Channel than with those which found favour in France.
Of the earlier French lanterns, this at Coutances is perhaps the best
specimen to be found: of the latter class there is none finer than that
of St. Ouen (Woodcut No. 666); and had the western towers been completed
in the same character, in accordance with the original design, the
towers of this church would probably be unrivalled. Even alone the
lantern is a very noble architectural feature, and appropriate to its
position, though some of the details mark the lateness of the age in
which it was erected.
[Illustration: 666. Lantern, St. Ouen, Rouen. (From a print by Chapuy.)]
Notwithstanding the beauty of these examples, it must be confessed that
the French architects were not so happy in their designs of spires and
lanterns as they were in many other features.
[Illustration: 667. Corbel. (From Didron, ‘Annales Archéologiques.’)]
[Illustration: 668. Capitals from Rheims.]
It would be in vain to attempt to enumerate all the smaller decorative
features that crowd every part of the Gothic churches of France, many of
which indeed belong more to the department of the sculptor than to that
of the architect, though the two are so intimately interwoven that it is
impossible to draw the line between them. It is, however, to the extreme
care bestowed on these details and their extraordinary elaboration that
the Gothic churches of the best age owe at least half their effect.
There are many churches in Italy of the Gothic and Renaissance ages,
larger and grander in their proportions than some of the best French
examples, but they fail to produce a similar effect because these
details are all—if the expression may be used—machine-made. The same
forms and ornaments are repeated throughout, and too frequently borrowed
from some other place without any evidence of thought or fitness in
their application, and consequently call up no responsive feeling in the
mind of the spectator. On this side of the Alps, in the best age, every
moulding, every detail, exhibits an amount of thought combined with
novelty, and is always so appropriate to the place or use to which it is
applied, that it never fails to produce the most pleasing effect, and to
heighten to a great extent the beauty of the building in which it is
found. The corbel for instance represented in Woodcut No. 667 is as much
a niche for the statue as a bracket to support the ends of the ribs of
the vaults, and is one of the thousand instances which are met with
everywhere in Gothic art of that happy mixture of the arts of the mason,
the carver, and the sculptor, which, when successfully combined, produce
a true artistic effect. These combinations are so numerous and so varied
that it would be hopeless to attempt to classify them, or even to
attempt to illustrate the varieties found in any single cathedral.[363]
The same may be said of the capitals of the pillars, which in all the
best buildings vary with every shaft, and appear to have been executed
after the architect had finished his labours, by artists of a very high
class. In the best age, in France at least, as in the examples from
Rheims, shown in Woodcut No. 668, they would appear to have retained a
reminiscence of a Roman Corinthian order, but to have used it with a
freedom entirely their own.
CONSTRUCTION.
It has been shown that the exigencies of a Gothic cathedral were a stone
roof, a glass wall, and as great an amount of space on the floor, as
little encumbered with pillars and points of support, as could be
obtained. The two first of these points have been sufficiently insisted
upon in the preceding pages; the last, however, demands a few more
remarks, as the success achieved by the masons in the Middle Ages in
this respect was one of their chief merits, though it was but a
mechanical merit after all, and one in which they hardly surpassed their
masters the Romans. The basilica of Maxentius, for instance, covers a
space of 68,000 sq. ft., or about the average size of a French
cathedral, and the points of support, or in other words the piers and
walls, occupy only 6900 sq. ft., or between a 9th and a 10th part of the
whole area. If we turn to the great cathedral of St. Peter’s at Rome, we
find the points of support occupying more than one-fourth of the whole
area, though built on the model, and almost a copy, of the Roman
basilica. At St. Mary’s at Florence they occupy one-fifth; and in St.
Paul’s, London, and the Pantheon at Paris, the walls and pillars occupy
in the first rather more, in the other rather less, than one-sixth. If
from these we turn to some of the Mediæval examples, we find for
instance at
The whole area. Solid. Ratio.
Bourges 61,591 11,908 0·181, or between
1-5th and 1-6th.
Chartres 68,261 8,888 0·130, or 1-8th.
Paris 64,108 7,852 0·122, or between
1-8th and 1-9th.
St. Ouen 47,107 4,637 0·090, or between
1-10th and 1-11th.
The figures, however, at Bourges include a heavy and extended porch not
belonging to the original design, which if omitted would reduce the
fractional proportion considerably; and if the unbuilt towers of St.
Ouen were excluded, the proportion of the points of support to the area
would be less than one-twelfth.
Our best English examples show a proportion of rather less than
one-tenth, and though they have not the great height and wide-spreading
vaults of the French cathedrals, their spires and pinnacles externally
perhaps more than counterbalance this. Taken altogether it may generally
be stated that one-tenth is about the proportion in the best Gothic
churches of the best age. When we find it exceed this, it is obvious
that the lightness of the walls and pillars has been carried to excess,
and even in St. Ouen, if there is an error, it is on this side. There
can be no question that to produce a satisfactory effect a church
requires solidity, and apparent as well as real strength; for, without
affecting the extreme massiveness of Egyptian art, with its wonderful
expression of power and durability, there is an opposite extreme far
more prejudicial to true architectural effect in parading, as it were,
mechanical contrivances of construction, so as to gain the utmost
utilitarian effect with the least possible expenditure of means. This
the Egyptians utterly despised and rejected, and heaped mass on mass,
even at the expense of any convenience or use for which the building
might have been designed. The French architects, on the other hand, made
it their study to dispense with every ton of stone they could possibly
lay aside. This system they undoubtedly carried too far, for without
looking at such extreme examples as the choir of Beauvais or St. Ouen,
everywhere in France we find a degree of airy lightness and tenuity of
parts destructive of many of the most important conditions of
architectural excellence.
FURNITURE OF CHURCHES.
Little less thought and expense were probably bestowed upon what we may
call the furnishing of Gothic churches than upon the fabrics themselves.
Though the objects included in this denomination were altogether of a
lower class of art, they were still essential parts of the whole design,
and we cannot fairly judge of the buildings themselves without at least
endeavouring to supply their minor arrangements.
It is not easy to do this in France, nor indeed in any part of Europe,
as no one church or chapel displays at the present day all the wealth
and ornament which once belonged to it.
There is scarcely a single church in France with its original altar, the
most sacred and therefore generally the most richly adorned part of the
whole. These have either been plundered by the Huguenots, rebuilt in the
execrable taste of the age of Louis XIV., or destroyed during the
Revolution.
The cathedrals of Amiens and Rouen are among the few which retain their
original stalls; and the enclosure of the choir at Chartres is one of
the most elaborate pieces of ornamental sculpture to be found. That at
Alby has been before alluded to, and fragments of this feature still
exist in many cathedrals.
[Illustration: 669. Rood-Screen from the Madeleine at Troyes. (From
Arnaud, ‘Voyage dans l’Aube.’)]
The Rood-screens, or _Jubés_, which almost all French churches once
possessed, are rarer than even the other parts of these enclosures. A
good example of them is found in the church of the Madeleine at Troyes
(Woodcut No. 669), which gives a favourable idea of the richness of
decoration that was sometimes lavished on these parts. Though late in
age, and aiming at the false mode of construction which was prevalent at
the time of its execution, it displays so much elegance as to disarm
criticism. It makes us too regret the loss of the rood-screens of St.
Ouen’s (of which we can alone judge from drawings) and of the larger
cathedrals; though of these we are able to form some idea by following
out the design of the lateral screens, of which they formed a part.
If to these we add the altars of the minor chapels, with the screens
that divided them from the nave, the tombs of wealthy prelates and
nobles, the organ galleries, with their spiral stairs and richly-carved
instrument cases, and all the numberless treasures of art accumulated by
wealth and piety, we may form some idea of what a Mediæval cathedral
really was, though scarcely one now exists in any part of Europe in an
entire state.
DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE.
It is probable that specimens remain sufficient to elucidate in an
archæological point of view the progress of domestic architecture in
France, and thereby to illustrate the early manners and customs of the
people; but these remains are much less magnificent and are less
perfectly preserved than the churches and cathedrals, and have
consequently received comparatively little attention.
Had any of the royal palaces been preserved to our day, or even any of
the greater municipal buildings, the case might have been different. The
former have, however, perished, without an exception; and as regards the
latter, France seems always to have presented a remarkable contrast to
the neighbouring country of Flanders.
[Illustration: 670. Hôtel de Ville de St. Antonin.]
No town in France proper seems to have possessed in the Middle Ages
prior to the end of the 15th century either a municipality or a
town-hall of any note. When necessary to discuss communal business it
was the custom to meet in the open air, or occasionally in the churches
or cloisters. There is one notable exception to this in the town-hall of
St. Antonin, in the department of Tarn and Garonne, which is a
remarkable edifice of the 12th century, and though partially restored
retains still the principal features of its early design (Woodcut 670).
The ground storey, used as a market, consists of a series of pointed
arches, the one on the left being a passage-way through. On the first
floor is a fine room, lighted by three windows, each subdivided by three
shafts. The two piers separating the windows (and which on the inner
wall support segmental arches carrying the wall above) are decorated
with sculpture representing Adam and Eve and Moses. The second storey,
which rises into the roof, is lighted by three double windows. Of later
examples at the end of the 15th and commencement of the 16th centuries
there exist still the town-hall of Compiègne, a beautiful example, with
central tower; and at Saumur, St. Quentin, Orleans, Bruges, and
Beaugency a series of small but interesting buildings, some flamboyant
and others showing early Renaissance influence.
In a work like the present, which is barely sufficient in extent to
admit of all the great typical examples of architectural art being
enumerated, much less described, it is evident that to domestic art a
very subordinate position must be assigned. Perhaps it ought to be
omitted altogether. There are, however, so many beauties in even the
most insignificant productions of the great ages, that it may be
expedient at least to direct attention to the subject, and the three
examples here given may serve to illustrate the forms of the art at the
three great epochs of the French Gothic style.
[Illustration: 671. House at Cluny. (From Gailhabaud.)]
The first (Woodcut No. 671) is from a house at Cluny, and exhibits the
round-arched arcade with its alternate single and coupled columns, which
arrangement was usual at that period, and of which examples are found
all over the South of France and as far north at least as Auxerre.
The second (Woodcut No. 672) represents a house at Yrieix, and shows the
pointed Gothic style in its period of greatest development; and although
the openings are of larger extent than would be convenient in this
climate, they are not more so than would be suitable, while they give,
in the South of France, great lightness and elegance to the façade. The
third example is from the portal of the Ducal Palace at Nancy (Woodcut
No. 673), and is an instance of the form the style took when on the
verge of the Renaissance. It is not without elegance, though somewhat
strange and unmeaning, and, except as regards the balconies, the parts
generally seem designed solely for ornament without any constructive or
utilitarian motive.
[Illustration: 672. House at Yrieix. (From Gailhabaud.)]
One of the most extensive as well as one of the best specimens of French
domestic architecture is the house of Jacques Cœur, at Bourges, now used
as the town-hall. It was built by the wealthy but ill-used banker of
Charles VII., and every part of it shows evidence of careful design and
elaborate execution; it was erected too at an age before the style had
become entirely debased, and as a private residence situated in a town,
and therefore without any attempt at fortification, is the best that
France now possesses.
The château of Meilhan (Cher) is nearly a repetition of the same design,
but at least a hundred years more modern.
Rouen possesses several examples of domestic architecture of a late
date; so does Paris—and among others, the celebrated Hôtel de Cluny. Few
of the great towns are however without fragments of some sort, but
hardly any are of sufficient importance to deserve separate notice or
illustration.
France is not so rich as either Germany or England in specimens of
castellated architecture. This does not apparently arise from the fact
of no castles having been built during the Middle Ages, but rather from
their having been pulled down to make way for more convenient dwellings
after the accession of Francis I., and even before his time, when they
had ceased to be of any use. Still the châteaux of Pierrefonds and Coucy
are in their own class as fine as anything to be found elsewhere. The
circular keep of the latter castle is perhaps unique, both from its form
and dimensions; but being entirely gutted inside its architectural
features are gone, and it is now difficult to understand how it was
originally arranged, and by what means it was lighted and rendered
habitable.[364]
[Illustration: 673. Portal of the Ducal Palace at Nancy. (From
Dusomerard.)]
Tancarville still retains some of the original features of its
fortifications, as do also the castles of Falaise and Gaillard.
The keeps of Vincennes and Loches are still remarkable for their height,
though they hardly retain any features which can be called strictly
architectural. In the South, the fortified towns of Carcassonne and
Aigues Mortes, and in the North, Fougères, retain as much of their walls
and defences as almost any place in Europe. The former in particular,
both from its situation and the extent of its remains, gives a
singularly favourable and impressive idea of the grave majesty of an
ancient fortalice. But for alterations and desecrations of all sorts,
the palace of the popes at Avignon would be one of the most remarkable
castles in Europe: even now its extent and the massiveness of its walls
and towers are most imposing.
These are all either ruins or fragments; but the castle of Mont St.
Michel, in Normandy, retains nearly all the features of a Mediæval
fortress in sufficient perfection to admit of its being restored, in
imagination at least. The outer walls still remain, encircling the
village, which nestles under the protection of the castle. The church
crowns the whole, and around it are grouped the halls of the knights,
the kitchens and offices, and all the appurtenances of the
establishment, intermingled with fortifications and defensive
precautions that must have made the place nearly impregnable against
such engines of war as existed when it was erected, even irrespective of
its sea-girt position.
BOOK IV.
BELGIUM AND HOLLAND.
CHAPTER I.
CONTENTS.
Historical Notice—Old Churches—Cathedral of Tournay—Antwerp—St. Jacques
at Liège.
THE little kingdom of Belgium forms an architectural province as
distinct and in many respects as interesting as any in Europe. Its style
does not, it is true, possess that simplicity combined with grandeur
which characterises the one great united effort of Central France, but
it is more varied and picturesque, and as fully expressive of the
affinities and aspirations of the people.
As we may learn from their language, the dominant race during the Middle
Ages spoke a dialect very closely allied to the pure German, which
proclaimed their affinity to their neighbours on the Rhine; but what
their architecture tells us, though their language does not, is that
there was a very strong infusion of Celtic blood in their veins which
expresses itself in almost every building they erected.
Shortly after the departure of the Romans the German immigrants seem to
have completely overpowered the original Belgæ, and, like true Aryans,
to have divided themselves into a number of separate and independent
municipalities, with no established capital and acknowledging no central
authority. At times these communities did submit themselves to the rule
of Dukes and Counts, but only to a very limited extent; and for
particular purposes they occasionally even sought the protection of some
powerful monarch; but they never relinquished their right of
self-government nor fell under the power of feudal chiefs, or of a
dominant hierarchy, to the same extent as prevailed throughout nearly
the whole of the rest of Europe. This spirit of independence was
sustained throughout the Middle Ages by the immense extension of
commercial industry which the fortunate position of Belgium, combined
with the energy of her inhabitants, enabled her to develope. While the
rest of Europe was engaged in feudal wars and profitless crusades, the
peaceful burghers of the Belgian cities were quietly amassing that
wealth which gave them individually such importance as free citizens of
independent communities, and raised their towns, and eventually their
country, to the state of prosperity it maintained till the destruction
of their liberties by the Spaniards in the 16th century.
These historical circumstances go far to explain the peculiar character
observable in the architectural remains of this country, in which we
find no trace of any combined national effort. Even the epoch of
Charlemagne passed over this province without leaving any impress on the
face of the country, nor are there any buildings that can be said to
have been called into existence by his influence and power. The great
churches of Belgium seem, on the contrary, to have been raised by the
individual exertions of the separate cities in which they are found, on
a scale commensurate with their several requirements. The same
spontaneous impulse gave rise to the town-halls and domestic edifices,
which present so peculiar and fascinating an aspect of picturesque
irregularity.
Even the devastation by the Normans in the 9th and 10th centuries seems
to have passed more lightly over this country than any other in the
North of Europe. They burned and destroyed indeed many of the more
flourishing cities, but they did not occupy them, and when they were
gone the inhabitants returned, rebuilt their habitations, and resumed
their habits of patient self-supporting labour; and when these inroads
ceased there was nothing to stop the onward career of the most
industrious and commercial community then established in Europe.
In a historical point of view the series of buildings is in some
respects even more complete than the wonderful group we have just passed
in review in France. In size, the cathedrals of Belgium are at least
equal to those that have just been described. In general interest, no
cathedral of France exceeds that of Tournay, none in gorgeousness that
of Antwerp; and few surpass even those of Louvain, Mechlin, Mons, Bruges
and Ghent. Notwithstanding their magnificence, however, it must be
confessed that the Belgian cathedrals fail in all the higher requisites
of architectural design when compared with those on the southern border.
This was owing partly to the art never having been in the hands of a
thoroughly organised and educated body of clergy like that of France,
but more to the ethnographic difference of race, which in the first
place prevented centralisation, and also rendered them less keen in
their appreciation of art, and less influenced by its merits. From these
and other causes, their ecclesiastical buildings do not display that
elegance of proportion, and that beauty of well-considered and
appropriate detail, which everywhere please and satisfy the mind in
contemplating the cathedrals of France.
These remarks apply solely to ecclesiastical art. In specimens of the
civil and domestic architecture of the Middle Ages, Belgium surpasses
all the other countries of Europe, on this side of the Alps, put
together. Her town-halls and markets, and the residences of her
burghers, still display a degree of taste and elegance unsurpassed by
anything of the age, and remain to this day the best index of the wealth
and independence of the communities to which they belonged.
All this is of course only what might be expected from what we know of
the ethnographic relations of the people. An Aryan race, loving
independence, cultivating self-government, and steadily following those
courses which lead to material well-being and wealth; and underlying
these a Celtic race, turbulent at times, loving art, appreciating its
beauties, and clothing the municipal requirements with the picturesque
graces of architectural design.
The difference between this country and Central France appears to be
that in the latter country the Celtic element was in excess of the
Aryan, while in Belgium this condition was reversed, and this at least
is precisely what we find expressed in her art.
Of the oldest churches of Belgium, a large proportion are known to us
only by tradition, they having been pulled down to make way for the
larger and more splendid buildings which were demanded by the
continually increasing wealth and population of the cities. Of those
which remain, one of the oldest and most interesting is that of St.
Vincent at Soignies, built in 965 by Bruno, Archbishop of Cologne, and
though probably not quite finished within that century, it still retains
the features of the 10th century more completely than almost any church
in Europe. This church, that of St. Michele at Pavia, and the Minster at
Zurich, constitute a trio very similar to one another in design and in
size, and differing principally in the degree of finish they display,
this being by far the rudest in construction of the three. It possessed
originally a western tower and a central lantern, the upper parts of
both which are modernised. The east end was square, though possessing a
shrine, the tomb of the saint whose name it bears. It may have been
altered, and is built up on the outside so as to render examination
impossible.
Another church, only slightly more modern, that of St. Gertrude at
Nivelles (Woodcut No. 674), presents the same peculiarity, of having a
square termination towards the east, though it seems originally to have
had an apse at the west end, where the façade was carried up to a
considerable height, and adorned in the centre by a square tower flanked
by a circular one on each side. The latter retain their original form,
though the central tower was rebuilt in the 15th century. This church
was built in the earliest years of the 11th century, and was dedicated
in 1045, the Emperor Henry IV. assisting at the ceremony. It is a
first-class church with two transepts, and remains externally in all
essential particulars as then built. The interior was entirely destroyed
in the middle of the last century, which is a very great loss, although
the new arrangement which has replaced it is in itself remarkably well
designed.
[Illustration: 674. View of West End of Church at Nivelles. (From a
sketch by the Author.)]
Passing over some minor examples, we come to the cathedral of Tournay,
to the architect and artist the most interesting of the province. It is
a first-class cathedral, more than 400 ft. in length internally, and
covering with its dependencies an area of 62,525 sq. ft. It consists of
a nave, dedicated in 1066; of a transept, built about the year 1146; the
choir, which formed part of this arrangement, was dedicated in 1213, but
gave place about a century afterwards to that now standing, which was
dedicated in 1338, so that within itself it contains a complete history
of the style; and though there is no doubt considerable incongruity in
the three specimens here brought together, as they are the best of their
respective classes in Belgium, the effect is not unpleasing, and their
arrangement fortunate, inasmuch as, entering by the western door, you
pass first through the massive architecture of the 11th to the bolder
and more expanded features of the 12th century, a fitting vestibule to
the exaggerated forms which prevailed during the 14th. In the woodcut
(No. 676) the three styles are represented as they stand; but it would
require far more elaborate illustration to do justice to the beauty of
the deeply galleried nave, which surpasses any specimen of Norman
architecture, but which is here eclipsed by the two remaining apses of
the transept. These, notwithstanding a certain rudeness of detail, are
certainly the finest productions of their age, and are as magnificent
pieces of architecture as can be conceived. The choir is the least
satisfactory part of the whole; for though displaying a certain beauty
of proportion, and the most undoubted daring of construction, its effect
is frail and weak in the extreme. Still, if the tracery were restored to
the windows, and these filled with painted glass, great part of this
defect might be removed. At the best, the chief merit of this choir is
its clever and daring construction, but even in this the builder
miscalculated his own strength, for it was found necessary to double the
thickness of all the piers after they were first erected. This addition
would have been an improvement if it had been part of the original
design, but as it now is it appears only to betray the weakness which it
was meant to conceal.
[Illustration: 675. Plan of Cathedral at Tournay. Scale 100 ft. to 1
in.]
It is by no means clear that originally there were any entrances at the
west front; at least there certainly was no central doorway; and
probably the principal entrances were, as in most German churches, under
lateral porches.
Externally, the west front had neither the flanking towers of the Norman
church, nor the frontispiece usual in Germany, but terminated in a gable
the height of the wooden roof of the nave. The original church was
triapsal, and a large square tower adorned the intersection of the nave
and transept, which was originally surrounded by six tall square towers,
two belonging to each of the apses. Four of these still exist, and with
the remaining part of the central tower form as noble a group as is to
be found in any church of this province. In its triapsal state, its
superior dimensions and the greater height of its towers must have
rendered it a more striking building than even the Apostles’ Church at
Cologne, or indeed any other church of its age.
Besides the churches already described, there are a considerable number
in Belgium belonging to the 11th century, such as St. Bartholomew at
Liège; St. Servin’s, Maestricht; the church at Ruremonde (almost an
exact counterpart of the Apostles’ Church at Cologne), and others of
more or less importance scattered over the country. They almost all
possess the peculiarity of having no entrance in their west fronts, but
have instead a massive screen or frontispiece surmounted by two or three
towers. This was the arrangement of the old church of St. Jacques at
Liège. The church of Notre Dame de Maestricht presents a somewhat
exaggerated example of this description of front (Woodcut No. 677). It
is difficult to explain the origin of this feature, nor have we any
reason to regret its abandonment. There can be no doubt that the proper
place for the principal entrance to a church is the end opposite the
altar, where this screen prevented its being placed.
[Illustration: 676. Section of Central Portion of Church at Tournay,
looking South. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.]
[Illustration: 677. West Front of Notre Dame de Maestricht. (From
Schayes’ ‘Belgium.’)]
Among the smaller antiquities of this age, none are perhaps more
interesting than the little chapel of St. Sang, at Bruges, built by
Thierry of Alsace, on his return from the Holy Land, A.D. 1150; it is a
small double chapel, of a form very common in Germany, but less ornate
than these generally were. At one angle of it are two spires,
represented in Woodcut No. 678; the more slender of these would not
excite remark if found in Cairo or Aleppo, so exactly does it take the
Eastern form; the other, on the contrary, seems to belong to the 16th or
17th century: it is only one, however, of the numerous instances that go
to prove how completely art returned, at the period called the
Renaissance, to the point from which it started some four or five
centuries earlier. It returned with something more of purity of detail
and better construction, but unfortunately without that propriety of
design and grandeur of conception which mark even the rude buildings of
the first _naissance_ of Gothic art.
[Illustration: 678. Spire of the Chapel of St. Sang, Bruges. (From a
Sketch by the Author.)]
[Illustration: 679. Window in Church at Villers, near Genappe. (From a
Sketch by the Author.)]
Belgium is rich in small specimens of transitional architecture, and few
of her more extensive ecclesiastical establishments are without some
features of this class, often of great beauty. Their age has not yet,
however, been determined with anything like precision by the Belgian
antiquaries; but on the whole, it seems that in this, as in most other
respects, this country followed the German much more closely than the
French type, hesitating long before it adopted the pointed arch, and
clinging to circular forms long after it had been employed elsewhere,
oscillating between the two in a manner very puzzling, and rendering
more care necessary in determining dates than in most other parts of
Europe. Besides this, none of the Belgian buildings have yet been edited
in such a manner as to afford materials for the establishment of any
certain rule. Perhaps the most interesting specimen of the transitional
period, and certainly one of the most beautiful ruins in the country, is
the abbey church of Villers, near Genappe, a building 338 ft. in length
by 67 in width, built with all the purity of what we would call the
Early English style, but with a degree of experimental imperfection in
the tracery of which I hardly know an example elsewhere. The
representation given above (Woodcut No. 679) of one of the windows of
the transept will explain this; throughout it the tracery consists of
holes cut into slabs; yet this church is said to have been commenced in
1240, and only finished in 1276. In Germany such a date would be
probable; in France a similar specimen would be assigned to a period
from 70 to 100 years earlier.
Among the many efforts made in Belgium to get rid of the awkwardness of
the pointed form for windows was that in the choir of Notre Dame de la
Chapelle, at Brussels (begun 1216), where the circular tracery is
inserted in a circular-headed window, producing a much more pleasing
effect, both internally and externally, than the pointed form, except
with reference to the vault, with which it is so little in accordance
that the experiment seems to have been abandoned, and no attempt made
afterwards to renew it.
Besides those already mentioned, Belgium possesses about twenty
first-class churches of pointed architecture, all deserving attentive
consideration, some of them being almost unrivalled edifices of their
class. Among the earliest of these is the cathedral of Liège, begun in
1280, exhibiting the style in great purity. It has no western entrance,
but, like St. Croix, St. Jacques, and all the principal churches of this
city, is entered by side porches.
A little later we have the eastern parts of St. Gudule, Brussels (A.D.
1220-1273), and two other very beautiful churches: Notre Dame de Tongres
(1240), and St. Martin, Ypres (1232-70). The latter is perhaps the
purest and best specimen of the Gothic of the 13th century in Flanders;
and of about the same age is the beautiful church of N. D. de Dinant.
These are almost the only important specimens of the contemporary art of
the 13th century which still excite our admiration in all the principal
cities of France. Almost all the great cathedrals in that country belong
to this age, which was also so prolific of great buildings in England.
But Belgium does not seem to have shared to any great extent in the
impulse then given to church architecture. Her buildings are spread
pretty evenly over the whole period from the 10th to the 16th century,
as the steadily growing wealth of the country demanded them, and but
little influenced by the great political oscillations of her neighbours.
In the next century we have N. D. de Huy (1311), the beautiful parish
church at Aerschot (1337), and N. D. de Hal (1341)—small but elegant
places of worship. The two crowning examples, however, of this age are
N. D. of Antwerp (1352-1411), and St. Rombaut, Malines. The choir of
this latter church was dedicated in the year 1366, having been commenced
about the same time as that at Antwerp, but the nave was not erected
till a century afterwards (1456-1464), and the tower was not carried
even to its present height till the 16th century.
Antwerp cathedral is one of the most remarkable churches in Europe,
being 390 ft. long by 170 in width inside the nave, and covering rather
more than 70,000 sq. ft. As will be seen by the plan (Woodcut No. 680),
it is divided into seven aisles, which gives a vast intricacy and
picturesqueness to the perspective; but there is a want of harmony among
the parts, and of subordination and proportion, sadly destructive of
true architectural effect; so that, notwithstanding its size, it looks
much smaller internally than many of the French cathedrals of far
smaller dimensions. If the length of the nave had been divided into ten
bays instead of only six, and the central aisle had been at least 10 ft.
wider, which space could easily have been spared from the outer one, the
apparent size of the church would have been greatly increased; but
besides this, it wants height, and its details show a decadence which
nothing can redeem.
[Illustration: 680. Plan of the Cathedral at Antwerp. Scale 100 ft. to 1
in.]
Its magnificent portal, with its one finished tower 406 ft. in height,
was commenced in 1422, but only finished in 1518, and is more in
accordance with the taste of the 16th century than of the original
design. Although from the lateness of its date it is impossible to be
satisfied either with the outline or the detail, it is still so gorgeous
a specimen of art, and towers so nobly over the buildings of the city,
as to extort our admiration, and a man must have very little feeling for
the poetry of art who can stop to criticise it too closely.
The spire at Chartres (Woodcut No. 627) is more elegant in outline, but
the design of its base does not accord with that of the upper part, and
its effect is injured by the great height of the building to which it is
attached. That at Strasburg is very inferior in outline, so is St.
Stephen’s at Vienna, and it is not quite clear that the open-work spires
of Freiburg and Cologne are not mistakes. The base of the Antwerp spire
is perfect in proportion and good in detail; the caprice begins only
when near the top, where it constructively can do no harm, and is much
less offensive than it would be lower down. It cannot perfect, but
taking it altogether it is perhaps the most beautiful thing of its kind
in Europe.
It is a great question if the second spire, were it completed as
originally designed, would add to, or detract from, the beauty of the
composition. An unfinished design is always unpleasing, but, on the
whole, twin spires, without a very prominent central object, do not seem
a pleasing form of design.
The church of St. Rombaut at Malines, though very much smaller than that
at Antwerp, being only 300 ft. in length internally, and, including the
tower, only 385 ft. over all externally, is still a far more
satisfactory church in every respect. Indeed, it is one of the finest of
those which have round pillars in the nave instead of the clustered
columns which give such beauty and such meaning to most of the churches
of this age. It was originally designed to have one western spire,
which, if completed, would have risen to the height of nearly 550
English feet. It was never carried higher than to the commencement of
the spire, 320 ft., and at that height it now remains. Even as it is, it
is one of the noblest erections of the Middle Ages, the immense depth of
its buttresses and the boldness of its outline giving it a character
seldom surpassed.
St. Pierre’s, of Louvain, is a worthy rival of these two; for though
perhaps a century more modern, or nearly so, it seems to have been built
at once on a uniform and well-digested plan, which gives to the whole
building a congruity which goes far to redeem the defects in its
details. The façade, which would have rendered it the noblest building
of the three, has never been completed. It was designed on the true
German principle of a great western screen, surmounted by three spires,
the central one 535 ft. in height, the other two 430 ft. each.[365]
Where sufficient width can be obtained, this seems a legitimate and
pleasing form of composition. Twin towers like those at Cologne or like
those designed for Strasburg and Antwerp, would overpower any church,
and are wanting in variety. Two small towers, with one taller between,
is a more pleasing composition, though equally destructive to the effect
of the building behind. The English plan of three spires, as at
Lichfield, is by far the most pleasing arrangement; but this form the
continental architects never attempted on an extensive scale, and
consequently the single spire, as at Malines or Ulm, is perhaps the most
satisfactory solution of the difficulty. If not that, then the
triple-spired façade designed for Louvain would probably be the best.
Those above enumerated are certainly the finest specimens of Belgian
ecclesiastical art. Almost all the churches erected afterwards, though
some of them very beautiful, are characterised by the elaborate weakness
of their age. Among these may be mentioned St. Gommaire at Lierre,
commenced A.D. 1425, but not completed till nearly a century afterwards;
and St. Jacques at Antwerp, a large and gorgeous church, possessing size
and proportion worthy of the best age, but still unsatisfactory, from
the absence of anything like true art or design pervading it. The same
remarks do not apply to St. Waudru at Mons, 1450-1528, one of the very
best specimens of its age—pleasing in proportion and elegant in detail.
Internally a charming effect of polychromy is produced by the cold blue
colour of the stone, contrasted with the red-brick filling-in of the
vault; this contrast being evidently a part of the original design. By
some singular freak of destiny it has escaped whitewash, so that we have
here one instance at least of a _true_ mode of decoration, and to a
certain extent a very good one. The exterior of this church is also
extremely pleasing for its age. Its tower and spire are unfortunately
among those that we know only from the original drawings, which are
still preserved, and show a very beautiful design.
[Illustration: 681. Plan of St. Jacques, Liège. (From Weale’s
‘Architectural Papers.’) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]
Of about the same age (1522-1558) is St. Jacques at Liège (Woodcut No.
681), a church of the second class in point of size, being only 254 ft.
in length internally, by 92 ft. across the nave. At the west end it
still retains the screen of the old church, marked darker on the plan.
The principal entrance is a splendid porch of flamboyant design on the
north. The east end may be said to be a compromise between the French
and German methods, for it is not a true chevet, inasmuch as it has not
the circumscribing aisle, while its circlet of chapels prevents its
being considered as a German apse. Altogether the plan is characteristic
of its locality on the borders of France and Germany, for in it we find
mixed together most of the peculiarities of both countries. For its age
too the details are generally good, but as construction was no longer
the ruling motive, confusion is the result. The most remarkable thing
about the church is, that it is one of the very few churches in Europe
which retain their polychromatic decorations in anything like
completeness, especially on the roof. The paintings, however, are of
late date, bordering on the cinque-cento period; yet the effect
produced, though gorgeous, is remarkably pleasing and beautiful, and is
in itself sufficient to set at rest the question as to the expediency of
painting the vaults of churches, or leaving them plain. My own
conviction is, that all French vaults were once painted to as great an
extent as in this case. Our English architects often probably depended
only on form and carving for effect, but on the Continent it was
otherwise.
Of the remaining churches, St. Bavon’s at Ghent, and St. Martin’s at
Liège, both commenced, as they now stand, in the middle of the 16th
century, are among the most remarkable, and for their age are
wonderfully free from any traces of the Renaissance. At the same age in
France, or even in England, they would have been Italianised to a far
greater extent.
There is scarcely a second-rate town or even a village in Belgium that
does not possess a church of more or less importance of the Gothic age,
or one at all events possessing some fragment or detail worthy of
attentive study. This circumstance is easily explained from the fact
that during the whole of the Mediæval period, from the 10th to the 16th
century, Belgium was rich and prosperous, and since that time till the
present comparatively so poor as to have had neither ambition to destroy
nor power to rebuild. Considering its extent, the country is indubitably
richer in monuments than France, or perhaps than any other country in
Europe; but the architecture is neither so good or satisfactory nor of
so high a class.
CHAPTER II.
CONTENTS.
Civil Architecture—Belfries—Hall at Ypres—Louvain—Brussels—Domestic
Architecture.
WHATEVER opinion we may form as to her ecclesiastical edifices, the real
architectural pre-eminence of Belgium consists in her civil, or rather
her municipal buildings, which surpass those of any other country. None
of these are very old, which is easily accounted for. The rise of
commercial enterprise in Belgium, though early compared with other
European nations, was more recent than the age of military and
ecclesiastical supremacy, and men were consequently obliged to erect
castles to protect their property against robbers, and churches for
their religious wants, before they could think of council-halls or
municipal edifices.
In the 12th century, when the monarchy of France was consolidating
itself, the cities of Belgium were gradually acquiring that wealth and
those rights and privileges which soon placed them among the independent
and most prosperous communities of Europe. One of the earliest
architectural expressions of their newly-acquired independence was the
erection of a belfry. The right of possessing a bell was one of the
first privileges granted in all old charters, not only as a symbol of
power, but as the means of calling the community together, either with
arms in their hands to defend their walls, to repress internal tumults,
for the election of magistrates, or for deliberation on the affairs of
the commonwealth. The tower too in which the bell was hung was a symbol
of power in the Middle Ages, and, whether on the banks of the Scheldt or
the Po, the first care of every enfranchised community was to erect a
“tower of pride” proportionate to their greatness.
The tower moreover was generally the record-office of the city, the
place where the charters and more important deeds were preserved secure
from fire; and in a place sufficiently fortified to protect them in the
event of civic disturbances.
All these uses have passed away, and most of the belfries have either
fallen into neglect or been removed or appropriated to other purposes.
Of those remaining, the oldest seems to be that of Tournay, a fine
tower, though a good deal altered and its effect destroyed by more
modern additions.
The belfry at Ghent was commenced in 1183, but the stone-work was only
completed in 1337. In 1376 a wooden spire was placed upon it, making up
the height to 237 ft. This was taken down in 1855 in order to complete
the tower according to the original design, which, like that of most of
the unfinished buildings of Belgium, has been carefully preserved. It
has since been completed by the addition of an iron spire (375 ft.)
painted to look like stone. The Woodcut No. 682 is a reduction of the
original drawing, which, though not so perfect as some others, gives a
fair idea of what it was intended to be.
[Illustration: 682. Belfry at Ghent. (From the original Drawing.)]
The belfry of Brussels was one of the finest in the country, but after
various misfortunes it fell in 1714, and is only known now by a model
still preserved in the city.
At Ypres and Bruges the belfries form part of the great halls of the
city. Those at Lierre, Nieuport, Alost, Furnes, and other cities, have
been all more or less destroyed by alterations, and are more interesting
to the antiquary than to the architect; moreover, like the cities
themselves, they never could have been of the first class, or remarkable
for any extraordinary magnificence.
The great municipal halls, which are found in all the principal cities
of Belgium, are of three classes:—1. Town-halls—the municipal
senate-houses and courts of justice. 2. Trade-halls or market-houses,
the principal of which were cloth-halls, cloth having been the great
staple manufacture of Belgium during the Middle Ages. And lastly
Guildhalls, or the separate places of assembly of the different guilds
or associated trades of the cities.
[Illustration: 683. Cloth-hall at Ypres.]
As far as existing examples go, it would appear that the trade halls
were the first erected. The cloth-hall at Ypres is by far the most
magnificent and beautiful of these, as also the earliest. The
foundation-stone was laid in 1200 by Baldwin of Constantinople, but it
was not finished till 104 years afterwards. The façade is 440 ft. in
length, and of the simplest possible design, being perfectly straight
and unbroken from end to end. The windows of each storey, all of one
design, are repeated, not only along the whole front, but at each end.
Its height is varied by the noble belfry which rises from its centre,
and by a bold and beautiful pinnacle at each end. The whole is of the
pure architecture of the 13th century, and is one of the most majestic
edifices of its class to be seen anywhere. It might perhaps have been
improved by the greater degree of expression and the bolder shadows
which lines brought down to the ground would have given to it, but as it
is, it is extremely pleasing from its simplicity and the perfect
adaptation of its exterior to its internal arrangements. These consist
of one vast hall on the ground-floor, supported by several ranges of
columns, with long galleries and great halls above it for the use of the
trade to which it was appropriated.
The town-hall at Bruges is perhaps the oldest building erected
especially for that purpose in Belgium, the foundation-stone having been
laid in 1377. It is a small building, being only 88 ft. in front by 65
in depth, and of a singularly pure and elegant design. Its small size
causes it to suffer considerably from its immediate proximity to the
cloth-hall and other trade-halls of the city. These, grouped with the
belfry in their centre, occupy one end of the great Place, and, though
not remarkable for beauty, either of design or detail, still form a most
imposing mass. The belfry is one of the most picturesque towers in the
country. Its original height was 356 ft., which was diminished by about
60 ft. by the removal of the spire in 1741, though it still towers above
all the buildings of the city, and in that flat country is seen far and
wide.
The finest of the town-halls of Belgium, built originally as such, is
that of Brussels (Woodcut No. 684), commenced in 1401, and finished in
1455. In dimensions it is inferior to the cloth-hall at Ypres, being
only 264 ft. in length by about 50 in depth, and its details, as may be
supposed from its age, are less pure; but the spire that surmounts its
centre, rising to the height of 374 ft., is unrivalled for beauty of
outline and design by any spire in Belgium, and is entitled to take rank
among the noblest examples of the class in Europe. Notwithstanding its
late age, there is no extravagance, either in design or detail, about
it; but the mode in which the octagon is placed on the square, and the
outline broken and varied by the bold and important pinnacles that group
around it, produce a most pleasing variety, without interfering with the
main constructive lines of the building. The spire, properly so called,
is small, so that its open-work tracery is pleasing and appropriate,
which is more than can be said of some of its German rivals, in which
this mode of ornamentation is quite unsuited to the large scale on which
it is attempted.
Next in importance to this is the well-known and beautiful town-hall at
Louvain (1448-1463), certainly the most elaborately decorated piece of
Gothic architecture in existence. Though perhaps a little overdone in
some parts, the whole is so consistent, and the outline and general
scheme of decoration so good, that little fault can be found with it. In
design it follows very closely the hall at Bruges, but wants the tower,
which gives such dignity to those at Brussels and Ypres.
[Illustration: 684. View of Town-hall, Brussels.]
Towards the end of the same century (1481) the inhabitants of Ghent
determined on the erection of a town-hall, which, had it ever been
finished, would have surpassed all the others in size and richness,
though whether it would have equalled them in beauty is more than
doubtful. After a century of interrupted labour the design was abandoned
before it was more than two-thirds completed, and now that age has
softened down its extravagances, it is a pleasing and perhaps beautiful
building. Nothing, however, can exceed the extent of tormented and
unmeaning ornament that is spread over every part of it, showing great
richness certainly, but frequently degenerating into very bad taste. The
architecture of the hall at Ypres, though only half or one-third as
costly in proportion to its extent, is far nobler and more satisfactory
than this ever could have been. But when erected the day of true art was
past, and its place was sought to be supplied by extent of ornament.
The same remarks apply to the town-hall at Oudenarde, a building
evidently meant as a copy of that at Louvain, but having combined with
it a belfry, in imitation of that at Brussels. The result is certainly
rich and pleasing in general effect; but the details incidental to its
age (1525) have marred the execution, and given to the whole a
clumsiness and a flimsiness that greatly detract from its beauty. Even
the effect of the belfry is spoiled by the temptation to exhibit a
masonic trick, and make it appear as if standing on the two slight
pillars of the porch. It is clever, but apparent stability is as
necessary to true architectural beauty as real stability is to the
dignity of the art.
Among the smaller halls that of Mons is perhaps the most elegant, and is
very similar to that of St. Quentin, which, though now in France, was a
Flemish city at the time of its erection.
In the days of her magnificence Mechlin attempted the erection of a
splendid hall, which was intended to rival those of any of the
neighbouring towns. Civic troubles, however, put a stop to the work
before it was carried so far as to enable us now even to determine what
the original design may have been.
Among minor edifices of the same class may be mentioned the cloth-halls
of Louvain and Ghent, both of the best age, though small; and the
Boucheries or meat-markets of Diest, Ypres, Antwerp, and other towns—the
boatman’s lodge at Ghent and the burgesses’ lodge at Bruges, besides
numerous other scattered memorials of civic magnificence that meet one
everywhere in this great emporium of Mediæval industry.
Of palaces, properly so called, little remains in Belgium, worthy of
notice, unless it be the palace of the Bishop of Liège (Woodcut No.
685), which, as far as size and richness of decoration are concerned,
almost deserves the reputation it has attained. It was, however,
unfortunately commenced at an age (1508) when the Gothic style,
especially in civil buildings, was all but extinct, and it is impossible
to admire its stunted columns and flat arches in such immediate
proximity to the purer works of the preceding centuries.
Of the same age and style was the Exchange at Antwerp (1515). This
building was more pleasing in its details: and, though commenced a few
years later, its simpler and more monumental character seems to have
preserved it from the individual caprices which are apparent in the
palace, and which became the fatal characteristic of all future designs.
Neither of these buildings can, however, be called in strictness Gothic
designs, for the true spirit of that art had perished before they were
commenced.
[Illustration: 685. Part of the Bishop’s Palace, Liège. No scale.]
Many of the private dwelling-houses in the Flemish cities are
picturesque and elegant, though hardly rising to the grade of specimens
of fine art; but when grouped together in the narrow winding streets, or
along the banks of the canals, the result is so varied and charming that
we are inclined to ascribe to them more intrinsic beauty than they
really possess as individual designs. Most of them are of brick, and the
brick being used undisguisedly, and the buildings depending wholly on
such forms as could be given to that material, they never offend our
taste by shams; and the honest endeavour of the citizens to ornament
their dwellings externally, meets here with the success that must always
follow such an attempt. To exhibit this class of structures adequately
would require far more illustration than is compatible with a work like
the present, and would occupy the space that more properly belongs to
buildings of a larger and more monumental class, and of higher
pretensions to architectural effect, both in their design and the manner
in which it is carried out.
CHAPTER III.
HOLLAND.
CONTENTS.
Churches—Civil and Domestic Buildings.
THE moment we pass the boundary line which separates Belgium from
Holland, we feel that we have stepped at once into a new architectural
province. At last we have got among a people of pure Aryan or Teutonic
race, without one trace of Turanian or Celtic blood in their veins, and
who consequently carry out their architectural designs with a
matter-of-fact simplicity that is edifying, if not charming. It is not
that the kingdom of Holland is deficient in the possession of Mediæval
churches—far from it—she possesses as many Gothic cathedrals as we do,
and their average dimensions are equal to those which adorn this island;
they belong also to the same age: but the result is wonderfully
different.
The Dutch did not work out any part of the style for themselves; they
attempted no novelties, and did not even give themselves the trouble to
understand perfectly the style they were employing. They were then, as
now, a religious people, and wanted churches, and built them according
to the only pattern then available. No one can say that their churches
were not perfectly adapted to the form of worship then prevalent, and in
dimensions and dignity perfectly suited to the wants of the communities
who erected them. Notwithstanding all this, they are only vast
warehouses of devotion, and are utter failures as works of art.
If any one wishes to perfectly realise the difference between mere
ornamental construction and ornamental construction which is also
ornamented, he cannot do better than study carefully the design of these
Dutch churches. Their dimensions are frequently grand, their proportions
generally pleasing, and the subordination of the parts to each other
often most judicious. On the other hand, the pillars of the pier arches
are almost always round—the vaulting shafts poor, and never carried to a
sufficient resting-place—the windows want mullions and tracery—the
vaults are domed and stilted—the ribs lean—and everything in fact is
pared down as closely to mere utility as is possible in such a style. In
France or in England, in the same age, every stone would have spoken out
and had a meaning; and every detail would not only have been in its
right place, but would have expressed the reason of its being there, and
the purpose to which it was applied.
To the want of artistic feeling, or real knowledge of the style, which
is shown in the designs of the Dutch churches, must be added the
inferiority of the material in which they were carried out. Some are
wholly of brick, and few are entirely of stone, though most of them have
an admixture of the nobler material—and where brick is employed, without
great care and artistic feeling, the result is generally poor and
unsatisfactory.
Judged by their dimensions alone, the churches of Holland ought to be
almost as interesting as those of Belgium, for they are generally large,
with lofty and well-proportioned aisles, and transepts which project
boldly. They have frequently tall and not ungraceful western towers, and
sometimes large windows filled with good tracery, though mostly of a
late age. Notwithstanding all these requisites of a perfect Gothic
church, there is not one of them that must not be considered a failure,
from the causes just mentioned.
These remarks apply especially to the great churches at Haarlem, Leyden,
and Rotterdam, two at Amsterdam, and the two at Delft, the older of
which contains some details worthy of attention. That at Gouda is
remarkable for the beauty of its painted glass, though the architecture
of the church is very unworthy of so brilliant an ornament.
The church at Dort is older than most of these, and has a venerable look
about it that hides many of the faults of its architecture, but it will
not bear examination.
The churches of Utrecht and Bois le Duc are to some extent exceptions to
the general poverty of design which characterises the churches of
Holland. This is owing probably to the situation of these two churches
on the verge of the province, and their proximity to Belgium and
Germany. That at Utrecht consists at the present day of merely two
fragments—a choir and a tower, the nave that joined them having been
destroyed by a storm and never replaced. What remains is good late
German, though it is much disfigured by modern additions. The church at
Bois le Duc is still a large and richly ornamented church, with a good
deal of stone-work about it; but being too large for the decaying town
in which it stands, it has suffered much from neglect, and is now in a
very ruinous condition.
The church at Kampen, on the Zuyder Zee, is better than most others, and
many of the smaller churches on the borders of the province are worthy
of more attention than they have received. There are few abbeys or
monastic buildings of any importance to be found, such establishments
never having been suited to the industrious character of the Dutch
people.
Bad as are the churches of Holland, the town-halls and civic buildings
are even worse. With the single exception of the town-hall at
Middelburg, erected in 1468 by Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, and a
fine example of its kind, there are none, in the whole of the
Netherlands, which can be classed as works of fine art. Even age has
been unable to render them tolerably picturesque; nor are there in the
province any belfries with their picturesque forms, nor any palaces
worthy of note, which belong to the Middle Ages. The older
dwelling-houses are sometimes picturesque and pleasing, but less so than
those of Belgium. Most of them are unpretending specimens of honest
building, the result of which is often satisfactory; and combined, as
they generally are in Dutch towns, with water and trees, and with the
air of neatness and comfort which pervades the whole, we sometimes
scarcely feel inclined to quarrel with the absence of higher elements of
art when so pleasing a result has been produced without them.
Notwithstanding all this, it might be well worth while to give one or
two examples of the plans and illustrations of some of the churches in
Holland in a work like the present, not so much for their own sake, as
for comparison with other buildings; but the materials do not exist. The
Dutch have shown the same indifference to the conservation of their
Mediæval monuments which their forefathers exhibited in their erection,
and not one has been edited in modern times in such a manner as to admit
of being quoted.[366] The history of this variety remains for the
present to be written, but fortunately it is one of the least important
of its class.
BOOK V.
GERMANY.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
CONTENTS.
Chronology and Historical Notice.
CHRONOLOGY.
A.D.
Charlemagne (Karl der Grosze) 768 to 814
Conrad I. of Franconia 911
Henry the Fowler Saxon 919
Otho I. Saxon 936
Otho II. Saxon 973
Otho III. Saxon 983
Henry II. 1002
Conrad II. Franconian 1024
Henry III. Franconian 1039
Henry IV. Franconian 1056
Henry V. Franconian 1106
Lothaire III. of Saxony 1125
Conrad III. Hohenstaufen 1138
Frederick I., Barbarossa Hohenstaufen 1152
Henry VI. Hohenstaufen 1190
Otho IV., the Guelph Hohenstaufen 1198
Frederick II. Hohenstaufen 1215
William of Holland Swabia 1247
Period of Anarchy Swabia 1256
Richard of Cornwall Swabia 1257
Alphonso of Castile Swabia 1258
Rudolph of Hapsburg 1273
Adolph of Nassau 1292
Albert of Austria 1298
Louis of Bavaria 1314
Charles of Luxemburg 1347
Wenceslaus of Bohemia 1378
Rupert of the Palatinate 1400
Sigismund of Hungary 1410
Frederick III. Hapsburg 1440
Maximilian I. Hapsburg 1493
Charles V. Hapsburg 1519 to 1556
AS might be expected from the known difference of race, the history of
architecture in Germany differs in the most marked degree from that of
France; and instead of a number of distinct nationalities being
gradually absorbed into one great central despotism, and their
individuality obliterated, as happened in that country, we find Germany
commencing as a great uniting power under Charlemagne and the Othos, but
with a strong tendency to disintegration from first to last. Had the
Germans been as pure Aryans as they are sometimes supposed to be, they
might under certain circumstances have resolved themselves into an
aggregation of village communities under one paramount protector. The
presence of a Celtic dominion on their western frontier, always greedy
for territory, and always prepared to fight either for its acquisition,
or for anything else, prevented such a catastrophe as this. But the
tendency in those parts of Germany where the blood was purest was
towards every city becoming an independent community, every trade an
independent guild, and every lordship a little kingdom in so far as
independence was concerned. All this, however, was the natural tendency
of the race, and by no means involved the cutting up of the country into
separate architectural provinces. Had the country indeed been divided
into 1000 or 1500 separate principalities and free cities, instead of
one-tenth of that number, the uniformity would have been greater than it
is, and from the Alps to the Baltic we should have had only one style,
as was very nearly being the case during the Middle Ages. The greatest
difference that strikes the observer at first sight, is the change of
style between the buildings on the banks of the Rhine and those on the
shores of the Baltic. This, however, is more superficial than real, and
arose from the fact of no stone being found on the sandy plains of
Prussia. The inhabitants of Northern Germany were forced to use brick,
and that only, and consequently employed forms which were different from
those used in stone countries, but varying from them constructively more
than essentially. There may nevertheless be a certain infusion of
Wendish blood in Northern Germany, which may to some extent have
influenced the style, but it is not easy to trace or isolate it.
On the eastern boundary of the province a well-marked ethnographic
distinction may easily be detected. In Bohemia and Moravia a strong
infusion of Sclavonic feeling does tincture the art, but not to its
advantage. In these countries there are some very grand Gothic
buildings; but they are wild and ill-understood as Gothic designs, and
by no means satisfy the judgment of any one who is familiar with the
best examples in France or England. In Siebenbürgen,[367] as might be
expected, the style is still more abnormal, but it would take more
trouble and more illustration to describe it than its importance
deserves; for, except the cathedral at Karlsburg, it does not possess
any building of great architectural magnificence. Its general
characteristic is that it is more Italian than German, though not the
less interesting for that very reason.
The history of Gothic architecture in Germany began practically with
Charlemagne and ended with Charles V. There may be some buildings
erected before the date of the first-named king, but, if so, they are
small and unimportant, and indeed it seems probable that the edifices
left by the Romans sufficed for the early wants of the people. Some of
these, like the church at Trèves, were built for Christian purposes;
while others may have been in wood and have perished. Be that as it may,
however, from the time of Charlemagne we can trace the history of the
style with tolerable distinctness. A considerable impulse was given to
it under the Othos (936-1002), and under the Hohenstaufens (1138-1268)
the old round-arched style reached its culminating point of perfection.
If any style deserves the name of German it is this, as it was
elaborated in the valley of the Rhine, with very little assistance from
any other nation beyond the hints obtained from the close connection
that then existed between the Germans and the inhabitants of the valley
of the Po.
With the house of Hapsburg (1273) a change came over the spirit of the
country. What Germany did in the 18th century was only a repetition of
what she had done in the 13th. At the later epoch she abandoned her
native literature, almost her mother tongue—to speak French and to copy
French fashions, as at the earlier epoch she forsook her own noble style
of art to adopt the French pointed Gothic. Had she thoroughly understood
and appreciated the French style, it might have been as well; but it was
foreign to her tastes, she had never worked it out from the beginning,
and it soon in consequence became exaggerated, and finally degenerated
into a display of tricks and _tours de force_.
By a strange perversion of historical evidence, the Germans at one time
attempted to appropriate to themselves the credit of the invention of
the pointed style, calling it in consequence German architecture. The
fact being that the pointed style was not only invented but perfected in
France long before the Germans thought of introducing it; and when they
adopted it, they did so without understanding it, and fell far short of
the perfection to which it was carried by the French in all the edifices
which they erected in the age of its greatest development in their own
country.
On the other hand, the Germans may fairly claim the invention of the
particular style which prevailed throughout Lombardy and Germany of
which we are now speaking. This style, it is true, never was fully
developed, and never reached that perfection of finish and completeness
which the pointed style attained. Notwithstanding this, it contained as
noble elements as the other, and was capable of as successful
cultivation, and had its simpler forms and grander dimensions been
elaborated with the same care and taste, Europe might have possessed a
higher style of Mediæval architecture than she has yet seen. The task,
however, was abandoned before it was half completed, and it is only too
probable now that it can never be resumed.
A complete history of this style, worthy of its importance, is still a
desideratum which it is to be hoped the zeal and industry of German
architects will ere long supply, and vindicate their national art from
the neglect it now lies under, by illustrating as it deserves one of the
most interesting chapters in the history of architecture.[368] Already
German writers seem to be aware that the age of the Hohenstaufens was
not only the most exclusively national, but also the most brilliant
period of their history. Its annals have engaged the pens of their best
historians, and its poetry has been rescued from obscurity and commented
upon with characteristic fulness. Every phase of their civilisation has
been fully illustrated, except one—that one being their architecture,
which is, however, the noblest and the most living record of what they
did or aspired to do, that could be left for their posterity to study.
So distinctly is it their own, that, were it necessary to find for it a
separate name, the style of the Hohenstaufens would be that which would
most correctly describe it.
The leading characteristics of the German style are the double apsidal
arrangement of plan, the multiplication of small circular or octagonal
towers, combined with polygonal domes, at the intersections of the
transepts with the nave, and the extended use of galleries under the
eaves of the roofs both of the apses and of the straight sides. The most
ornamental parts are the doorways and the capitals of the columns. The
latter surpass in beauty and in richness anything of their kind executed
during the Middle Ages, and, though sometimes rude in execution, they
equal in design any capitals ever invented. These only required the
experience and refinement of another century of labour to qualify them
to compete successfully with any parts of the pointed style of
architecture which they borrowed from the French, and which in the
course of time entirely superseded their own native style.
CHAPTER II.
BASILICAS.
CONTENTS.
Plan of St. Gall—Church at Mittelzell in island of Reichenau—
Romain-Motier— Granson—Church at Gernrode—Trèves—Hildesheim—Cathedrals
of Worms and Spires—Churches at Cologne—Other churches and chapels—
Double churches—Swiss churches.
ST. GALL.
AS just mentioned, the history of Gothic architecture in Germany
commences practically with Charlemagne; and, by a fortunate accident, we
are able to begin our account of it by quoting from a contemporary
illustration of the greatest interest and importance. In the library of
the monastery of St. Gall, in Switzerland, a manuscript plan of a great
monastic establishment was found by Mabillon in the 17th century, and
published by him in the second volume of the ‘Annals of the Benedictine
Order.’ The name of the author is not known; but, from some dedicatory
verses on the back, it appears certain that it was sent to Gospertus,
who was abbot of the monastery, in the beginning of the 9th century, and
who in fact rebuilt the church and part of the monastic buildings
between the years 820 and 830. Mabillon conjectures that the plan was
prepared by Eginwald, the friend of Charlemagne, and who was also the
director of his buildings. It is by no means improbable that this may
have been the case, though it does not seem possible to prove it.
It is a matter of extreme difficulty to decide how far this plan was
followed in the erection of either the church or monastery of St. Gall
at this remote period, for everything there has been altered at
subsequent times; nor is it very important to enquire. The plan does not
pretend to represent any particular establishment, but is a “projet” of
what was then considered a perfect monastery. In this respect it
resembles the plans of fortified towns which are engraved in our books
of fortification representing the systems of Vauban, Coehorn,
Montalembert, &c., and which, though applicable _mutatis mutandis_ to
every place, have never literally been carried out in any one. It is in
fact an illustration of the Benedictine system, as applicable to Germany
in the ninth century, in its completed and most perfect form, and on
this account is far more interesting to us than if it had been merely a
plan of any particular monastery.
The plan itself is on four sheets of parchment sewn together, and is so
large (2 ft. 7 in. by 3 ft. 7 in.) that only a small portion of it can
be reproduced here, and that on a reduced scale.
The whole group of buildings was apparently meant to occupy a space of
about 450 ft. by 300. On the north side of the church was situated the
abbot’s lodging (B), with a covered way into the church, and an arcade
on either face; his kitchen and offices being detached, and situated to
the eastward. To the westward of this was the public school (C), and
still farther in the same direction the hospitium or guest-house (D D),
with accommodation attached to it for the horses and servants of
strangers.
Beyond the abbot’s house to the eastward was the dispensary (E), and
beyond that again the residence of the doctor (F), with his garden for
medical herbs and simples at the extreme corner of the monastery.
To the eastward of the great church was situated another small
double-apse church (G G), divided into two by a wall across the centre.
On either side of this church was a cloister, surrounded by apartments:
that on the north was the infirmary, next to the doctor’s residence, and
to it the western portion of the chapel was attached. The other was the
school and residence of the novices. Beyond these was the orchard (H),
which was also the cemetery of the monks; and still farther to the
southward were situated the kitchen-garden, the poultry-yard, the
granaries, mills, bakehouses, and other offices. These last are not
shown in the woodcut, for want of space.
On the south side of the church was situated the great cloister (I), and
further to the south of this was the refectory (J), with a detached
kitchen (K), which also opened into the great wine-cellar (L); and
opposite to this was the dormitory (M), with its various dependent
buildings.
To the westward was another hospitium (N), apparently for an inferior
class of guests; and to the southward and westward (O O) were placed the
stables for horses, cattle, sheep, and all the animals required for so
large an establishment, the whole arranged with as much skill and care
as can be found in the best modern farms.
[Illustration: 686. Reduction of an Original Plan of a Monastery at St.
Gall.]
The principal point of interest is the church, which was designed to be
200 ft. long from east to west and 80 ft. in width, divided into three
aisles by two rows of columns; the centre aisle being 40, the outer each
20 ft. in width. It has two apses; the principal one towards the east
(A) has a vaulted crypt, in which is a confessio, meant to contain the
relics of the patron saint, St. Gall. In front of this is a choir,
arranged very much on the model of that of S. Clemente at Rome, before
described.[369] The western apse, on the same level as the floor of the
church, was to be dedicated to St. Paul, and the eastern one to St.
Peter. Between the two choirs is the font, and the altar of St. John the
Baptist, and on each side are a range of altars dedicated to various
saints. Behind both apses are open spaces or paradises (R R) (parvise),
that to the west is surrounded by an open semicircular porch, by which
the public were to gain access to the church; and on either side of
this, but detached, are two circular towers (P P), each with an altar on
its summit, one dedicated to the archangel Michael, the other to
Gabriel: these were to be reached by circular stairs or inclined planes.
No mention is made of bells, and the text would seem to intimate rather
that the towers were designed for watch-towers or observatories. The
similarity of their position and form to that of the Irish round towers
is most remarkable; but whether this was in compliment to the Irish
saint to whom the monastery owed its origin, or whether we must look to
Ravenna for the type, are questions not easily determined at the present
date, for we know far too little as yet of the archæology of the age to
speak with certainty on any such questions. It is by no means improbable
that the meaning and origin of these and of the Irish towers were the
same; but whether it was a form exclusively belonging to a Celtic or
Irish race, or common to all churches of that age, is what we cannot now
decide from the imperfect data at our command.
On either side of the east end of the church is an apartment, where the
transept is usually found; that on the south is the vestry (S); on the
north is the library (T), and attached to the church on the same side is
the schoolmaster’s house (U), and beyond that the porter’s (V).
All the living apartments have stoves in the angles, but the dormitory
has a most scientific arrangement for heating; the furnace is at (X),
and the smoke is conveyed away by a detached shaft at (Y), between which
there must have been some arrangement of flues beneath the floor for
heating the sleeping-apartment of the monks.
Were it not that the evidence is so incontrovertible, we should feel
little inclined to fancy that the monasteries of this dark age showed
such refinement and such completeness as is here evidenced; for at no
period of their history can anything more perfect be found. In the
church especially, the two apses, the number of altars, the crypt and
its accompaniments, the sacristy, the library, &c., many of which things
have generally been considered as the invention of subsequent ages, are
marked out distinctly and clearly, as well-understood and usual
arrangements of ecclesiastical edifices. This plan in fact refutes at
once all the arguments regarding the dates of churches which have been
founded on the supposed era of the introduction of these accessories.
By another fortunate coincidence there is a church still standing at
Mittelzell, on the island of Reichenau, in the lake of Constance, within
thirty miles of St. Gall, which certainly belongs to this date, and is
unaltered in nearly all its principal features. It was finished, or at
least dedicated, in the year 816, and therefore this event took place
just before the rebuilding of St. Gall commenced.[370]
[Illustration: 687. Plan of Church at Mittelzell. Scale 100 ft. to 1
in.]
[Illustration: 688. Elevation of West End of Church at Mittelzell. Scale
50 ft. to 1 in.]
As will be seen from the plan (Woodcut No. 687) the dimensions of the
two churches are nearly the same; on the St. Gall plan they are written
200 ft. by 80. This church is 230 by 83 English feet, but the
eastern[371] apse has been rebuilt on a more extended scale, and if we
restore its original circular forms, we bring its dimensions so nearly
to those of the St. Gall plan that, if its author used what we now know
as French feet, the dimensions of the two may be considered as
identical. The pier-arches of the nave are plain, and the whole
arrangement is not unlike that of the nave of Montier-en-Der (Woodcut
No. 610). One of the most remarkable peculiarities of the Reichenau
church is the door behind the altar in the western apse, and the great
window looking into it, with double stairs which lead up to it, as
though the bishop’s throne was placed there above the heads of all. The
two principal entrances were, as shown in Woodcut No. 688, on each side
of the western apse, and the whole of the elevation—in so far as it is
preserved—retains the original design. Although retaining the wooden
roof, and never apparently intended to be vaulted, this church is purely
Romanesque in all its details. There is not a classical feature about
it, and we are rather startled to find a Barbarian style so complete at
so early an age, and so far removed from anything that could with
propriety be called debased Roman.[372]
[Illustration: 689. Plan of the Church at Romain-Motier. (From
Blavignac.[373]) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]
There are other churches in this neighbourhood scarcely less ancient in
date than this one at Mittelzell, and almost as interesting in their
arrangement. Among these may be mentioned that of Romain-Motier, the
body of which certainly remains as it was when consecrated in the year
753. The narthex, which is in two storeys, may be a century or two
later, and the porch and east end are of the pointed style of the 12th
or 13th century. The vaulting of the nave also can hardly be coeval with
the original building.
[Illustration: 690. View of the Church of Romain-Motier. (From
Blavignac.)]
From other examples in the neighbourhood, we may safely infer that it
originally terminated eastward in one or three apses. Supposing these to
be restored, we have a church of about 150 ft. in length by 55 in width
across the nave, with transepts, a tower at the intersection, and nearly
all the arrangements found at a much later age, and with scarcely any
more reminiscence of the early Christian style than is observable at
Mittelzell.
The external mode of decoration is very much that of the two churches of
San Apollinare at Ravenna, but is carried one step further, inasmuch as
in the upper storey of the nave each compartment is divided into two
arches, the centre one carried on a corbel; in the tower there are three
such little arches in each bay, and in the narthex five. This design
afterwards became in Germany and Italy[374] the favourite string-course
moulding.
The church of Granson, on the borders of the lake of Neufchatel, though
much smaller, is scarcely less interesting. It belongs to the
Carlovingian era, and like many churches of that age, has borrowed its
pillars and many of its ornaments from earlier monuments. Its most
remarkable peculiarity is the vault of the nave, which shows how timidly
at that early period the architects undertook to vault even the
narrowest spans, the whole nave with its side-aisles being only 30 ft.
wide. It is the earliest specimen we possess of a mode of vaulting which
subsequently became very common in the South of France, and which, as
has been pointed out above, led to most of the forms of vaulting
afterwards introduced.
[Illustration: 691. Section of Church at Granson. (From Blavignac.)]
The church of Notre Dame de Neufchatel, part of which is as old as from
927 to 954, presents also forms of beauty and interest. The same may be
said of the tower of the cathedral of Sion, which is of the same age,
and of parts also of the cathedral of Geneva.
The church at Payerne is very similar in size and in all its
arrangements to that of Romain-Motier; but being two centuries more
modern, the transition is complete, and it shows all the peculiarities
of a round-arched Gothic style as completely as San Michele at Pavia, or
any other church of the same age.
If there are any examples of basilican churches in Germany as old as
these Swiss examples, they have not yet been described, nor their age
satisfactorily ascertained. The oldest known example, so far as I am
aware, is the old Dom at Ratisbon,[375] originally apparently about 45
ft. by 22 in the clear. It was surrounded internally by eleven niches,
and vaulted. It also possessed the peculiarly German arrangement of
having no entrance at the west end, and has a deep gallery occupying
about one-fourth of the church. The lateral entrance is unfortunately
gone, so that there is very little ornamental architecture about the
place by which its age could be determined; and as no record remains of
its foundation, we can only conjecture that it may belong to some time
slightly subsequent to the Carlovingian era.[376]
[Illustration: 692. Plan of the Church at Gernrode. (From
Puttrich.[377])]
Boisserée places in this age the original cathedrals of Fulda and
Cologne, both which he assumes to have been double-apse basilicas, but
apparently without any sufficient data. There is no doubt that the
cathedral at the latter place, burnt in 1248, was a double-apse church;
but if it was anything like his restoration it could not have been
erected earlier than the 11th or 12th century, and must have replaced an
older building, which, for anything we know, may have been circular, as
probably as rectangular; and such would likewise appear to have been the
case at Fulda,[378] though there is as little to reason upon there as at
Cologne.
[Illustration: 693. View of West End of Church at Gernrode. (From
Puttrich.)]
There can be little doubt that the church of St. Justinus, built by
Archbishop Otgar, 826-847 A.D., at Höchst (between Mayence and
Frankfort) is of the Carlovingian period, as also parts of the church of
St. Castor at Coblenz, and the churches at Michælstadt and Seligenstadt,
the two last erected by Eginwald, the biographer of Charlemagne.
The most important building of the tenth century is the crypt of the
Abbey of Quedlinburg, erected by Matilda, consort of Henry I., in 936
A.D. It consists of three aisles, covered with parallel barrel vaults
supported upon alternating piers and columns, and is the first
appearance of this favourite form of support in German basilicas. The
dimensions of this building are 23 feet 8 inches × 22 feet 7 inches, and
32 feet 2 inches to the crown of vault.
The caps and bases take a distinctive form, leading from the debased
Roman to the Romanesque, the further development of which can be seen in
the choir of the abbey church at Essen, erected shortly after 947 A.D.
Leaving these, we must come down to the end of the 10th or beginning of
the 11th century for examples of the class we are now speaking of. Of
these, one of the most perfect and interesting is the church at
Gernrode, in the Hartz, founded A.D. 960, when probably the eastern part
(not the extended choir) was commenced, and the whole building may be
assumed to have been erected within a century after that date. From the
plan (Woodcut No. 692) it will be seen how singularly like it is to the
St. Gall example, except that it appears to have been originally about
50 ft., or one-fourth, less in length. The western circular towers,
instead of being detached, are here joined to the building. Piers too
are introduced internally, alternating with pillars; and altogether the
church shows just such an advance on the St. Gall plan as we might
expect a century or so to produce. It exemplifies most satisfactorily
the original form of these churches.
[Illustration: 694. View of West End of Abbey of Corvey.]
It possesses what is rare in this country—a bold triforium gallery, and
externally that strange frontispiece, forming the connecting gallery of
the two towers, which is so distinguishing a characteristic of German
churches. A still bolder example of this gallery remains in the façade
of the once famous abbey of Corvey, on the eastern frontier of
Westphalia (Woodcut No. 694), where we find the feature developed to its
fullest extent, so that it must originally have entirely hidden the
church placed behind it, as it did afterwards at Strasbourg and in many
other examples.
At Gernrode, as at Mittelzell, the roof was originally intended to have
been of wood, the crypts under the two apses being alone vaulted. Indeed
at that age the German architects hardly felt themselves skilled enough
to undertake a stone roof of any great extent. The old Dom at Ratisbon
is only 22 ft. in width, and that they could accomplish, but not
apparently one like Gernrode, where the span was twice that in extent.
If the church at Gernrode is a satisfactory specimen of a complete
German design carried out in its integrity, the cathedral at Trèves is
both more interesting as well as instructive from a very different
cause. It is one of those aggregated buildings of all ages and styles
which let us into the secrets of the art, and contain a whole history
within themselves; and as the dates of the successive building eras can
be ascertained with very tolerable accuracy, it may be as well to
describe it next in the series, to explain how and when the various
changes took place.
As is well known, the original cathedral at Trèves was built by the
pious Helena, mother of Constantine, and seems, like the contemporary
church at Jerusalem, to have consisted of two distinct edifices, one
rectangular, the other circular. The original circular building was
pulled down in the 13th century, to make way for the present Liebfrauen
church erected on its site, and most probably of the same dimensions. Of
the other, or square building, enough still remains encased in the walls
of the present basilica to enable us to determine its size and plan with
very tolerable accuracy. The plan of it in the woodcut (No. 696) is
taken from Schmidt’s most valuable work on the Antiquities of Trèves.
The atrium has been added by myself, because it was an almost universal
feature in churches of the date in which this was erected, and because
there is every reason to believe that the present church occupied as
nearly as possible the exact site of the older one, and is of the same
dimensions. The circular church is restored from the Roman examples of
the same age (Woodcuts 227, and 422 to 436). From their relative
positions it will be seen how indispensable the atrium must have been.
[Illustration: 695. Plan of Original Church at Trèves.[379] Scale 100
ft. to 1 in.]
[Illustration: 696. Plan of Mediæval Church at Trèves. (From Schmidt,
‘Baudenkmale von Trier.’) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]
This Romanesque church seems to have remained pretty much in its
original state till the beginning of the 11th century, when the
Archbishop Poppo found it so ruinous from age, that it required to be
almost entirely rebuilt. He first encased the pillars of the Romans in
masonry, making them into piers. He then took in and roofed over the
atrium, and added an apse at the western end, thus converting it into a
German church of the approved model, so that from this time forward the
buildings took the form shown in the Woodcut No. 692. No very important
works seem to have been undertaken from the beginning of the 11th till
the middle of the 12th century, when Bishop Hillin is said to have
undertaken the repair or rebuilding of the eastern apse: he did not
proceed beyond the foundation; but the work was taken up and completed
by Bishop John, who held the see from 1190 to 1212. These two apses,
therefore, one an example of the beginning of the German round-arched
style, the other representing the same near its close, show clearly the
progress which had been made in the interval.
[Illustration: 697. Western Apse of Church at Trèves. (From Schmidt.)
Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.]
[Illustration: 698. Eastern Apse of Church at Trèves. (From Schmidt.)
Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.]
The first of these apses (Woodcut No. 697) is perhaps somewhat ruder
than we might reasonably expect, though this may in part be accounted
for by its remote provincial situation. The round towers too are
subordinate to the square ones, in a manner more congenial to French
than to German taste. But the principal defect is in the apsidal
gallery, which is rude and tasteless as compared with other specimens,
which we are apparently justified in considering as contemporary. Before
the later or eastern apse was erected the gallery had almost run into
the opposite extreme of minute littleness, and the polygonal form and
projecting buttresses of pointed architecture were beginning to
supersede the simpler outlines of the parent style, of which these two
specimens form as it were the Alpha and the Omega. Between them the
examples and varieties are so numerous, that there really is an
_embarras de richesse_ in selecting those most appropriate for
illustration.
[Illustration: 699. Internal View of the Church of St. Michael, at
Hildesheim. (From Möller.)]
[Illustration: 700. Plan of Church of St. Michael at Hildesheim.]
The church of St. Michael at Hildesheim, erected by Bishop Bernward in
the first years of the 11th century, is among the earliest and most
interesting of those remaining in sufficient purity to enable us to
judge correctly of their original appearance. The plan (Woodcut No. 700)
consists of nave and aisles, an eastern and western transept both
projecting beyond the aisles, and flanked by octagonal towers with
staircases in them. The west choir, of one bay and apse, is flanked by
two vestries, with a low aisle round the apse, and entered only from it.
At the east end there were originally a central and two side apses,[380]
but in the 12th century the central apse was replaced by one of equal
length to that at the west end. All these apses have long ago
disappeared. The entrances are as usual on each side of the nave, and
none at the west end. Though the proportions appear short with reference
to the breadth, considerable additional effect is given by the screens
that shut off both arms of the eastern transept so as not to allow the
perspective effect to be broken. Hence the continuous view of the
central aisle, being six times as long as it is broad, gives the
appearance of far greater length to the church than could be supposed
possible from its lineal dimensions. But the great beauty here is the
elegance both in proportion and detail of the pier-arches, which
separate the nave from the aisles; the proportion of the pillars is
excellent, their capitals rich and beautiful, and every third pillar
being replaced by a pier gives a variety and apparent stability which is
extremely pleasing.
The church at Limburg, near Dürkheim, in the Bavarian Rhenish
Palatinate, erected by the Emperor Conrad (A.D. 1024-39), is a similar
though rather a larger church than that at Hildesheim, and possesses a
peculiarity somewhat new in Germany, of a handsome western porch and
entrance, with a choir with a square termination, instead of with an
apse as was usual. Another fine church, with a plan of the same form, is
the Benedictine abbey church at Echternach, dedicated to St. Willibrord
(a Northumbrian missionary monk). It was consecrated in 1031. The
extreme dimensions are 265 ft. by 72 ft.
The three great typical buildings of this epoch are the Rhenish
cathedrals of Mayence, Worms, and Spires. The first was commenced in the
10th century, and still possesses parts belonging to that age. The
present edifice at Worms belongs principally to the church dedicated
there in 1110. The age of the third and most important of these three
cathedrals is still a matter of controversy, and one, I fear, that will
not be settled without difficulty; for the church has been so frequently
damaged by fire and war, and lately by ill-judged restorations, that it
is not easy to ascertain what portions of it are old and what new. Still
I cannot help feeling convinced that the plan, and probably a great part
at least of the present structure, may belong to the original building
of Conrad, commenced in 1030, and which was dedicated by his grandson
Henry IV., thirty-one years afterwards.
Except the eastern apse, which is as usual flanked by two round towers,
the whole of the exterior of Mayence has been so completely rebuilt,
that little can now be said about it. The plan presents nothing
remarkable, except that it is evident, from its solidity and
arrangement, that it was intended from the commencement to be a vaulted
building; while of its details only one doorway remains which can with
certainty be said to belong to the original foundation.[381] It is
remarkable principally for the classicality of its details, and if its
age is correctly ascertained (the end of the 10th century), it would go
far to confirm the date usually assigned to the portal at Lorsch,
namely, the late Carlovingian period.
At Worms, the only part now remaining of the edifice dedicated in 1110
is the eastern end. The western apse cannot be older than the year 1200,
the intermediate parts having been erected between those dates. The
original plan is probably nearly unchanged, and is a fine specimen of
its class. The eastern apse is a curious compromise between the two
modes of finishing that were in use at that period, being square
externally, and circular in the interior. Internally the vaulting
throughout is simple and judicious, without any straining after effects
like those which puzzled the Norman architects in the same age (see
_ante_, p. 114), and the alternate clustered piers and large size of the
windows give to the whole a variety and lightness not usual in churches
of that date. Nothing can well be simpler or nobler than the design
externally. The four circular towers and the two domes break the
sky-line pleasingly, and the ornamentation throughout is good and
appropriate. Among the best of its details are the pilaster-like
buttresses which ornament its flanks; one of these is shown on a larger
scale (Woodcut No. 702). They display the true feeling of Romanesque
art: one moulding on each side running round the windows, while the
central group forms a pilaster running up to the cornice.
[Illustration: 701. Plan of Cathedral of Worms. (From Geier and Görz.)
Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]
[Illustration: 702. One Bay of Cathedral at Worms. (From Geier and
Görz.)]
If the design has a defect, it is the want of dignity in the lateral
entrances, and from these moreover being placed unsymmetrically on the
flanks. The fact of these being lateral arose from the double-apse
arrangement; but there seems no reason why they should not have been
central, and been covered by a porch to give them dignity. Whether right
or wrong, this position of the entrances is typical of German church
architecture, and is found in all ages.
[Illustration: 703. Side Elevation of Worms Cathedral. (From
Rosengarten.)]
Although the cathedral of Spires cannot boast of the elegance and finish
of that of Worms, it is perhaps, taken as a whole, the finest specimen
in Europe of a bold and simple building conceived, if the expression may
be used, in a truly Doric spirit. Its general dimensions are 435 ft. in
length by 125 in width; and taken with its adjuncts, it covers about
57,000 square feet, so that though of sufficient dimensions, it is by no
means one of the largest cathedrals of its class. It is built so
solidly, that the supporting masses occupy nearly a fifth of the area,
and like the other great building of Conrad’s, the church of Limburg,
this possesses, what is so rare in Germany, a narthex or porch,[382] and
its principal entrance faces the altar. Its great merit is the daring
boldness and simplicity of its nave, which is 45 ft. wide between the
piers, and 105 ft. high to the centre of the vault, dimensions never
attained in England, though they are equalled or surpassed in some of
the French cathedrals. There is a simple grandeur about the parts of
this building which gives a value to the dimensions unknown in later
times, and it may be questioned if there is any other Mediæval church
which impresses the spectator more by its appearance of size than this.
[Illustration: 704. Plan of the Cathedral at Spires. (From Geier and
Görz.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.]
Externally, too, the body of the church has no ornament but its small
window openings, and the gallery that runs round under all its roofs.
But the bold square towers (certainly of the 12th century) and the
central dome group pleasingly together, and, rising so far above the low
roofs of the half-depopulated town at its feet, impress the spectator
with awe and admiration at the boldness of the design and the grandeur
with which it has been carried out. Taken altogether, this noble
building proves that the German architects at that time had actually
produced a great and original style, and that had they persevered they
must have succeeded in perfecting it, but they abandoned their task
before it was half completed.
The western apse of the cathedral at Mayence is the most modern part of
these three great cathedrals, and perhaps the only example in Germany
where a triapsal arrangement has been attempted with polygonal instead
of circular forms. In this instance, as shown in Woodcut No. 705, the
three apses, each forming three sides of an octagon, are combined
together so as to form a singularly spacious and elegant choir, both
externally and internally as beautiful as anything of its kind in
Germany. Its style is so nearly identical with that of the eastern apse
of the cathedral at Trèves (Woodcut No. 698), that there can be no doubt
but that, like it, it belongs to the beginning of the 13th century. At
this time more variety and angularity were coming into use, suggested no
doubt by the greater convenience which flat surfaces presented for
inserting larger windows than could conveniently be used with the older
curved outlines; for now that painted glass had come into general use,
large openings had become indispensable for its display. Notwithstanding
this advantage, and the great beauty of the other forms often adopted,
none of them compensate for the external effect of the circular lines of
the older buildings.
[Illustration: 705. Western Apse of Cathedral at Mayence.]
Proceeding northwards, we find in the churches of Westphalia a fine
series of examples which are comparatively but little known. Among the
more important of these we may mention Münster, with its fine and
impressive nave, Soest, Paderborn, Lippstadt, Osnabrück, Hildesheim,
Hameln, Hersfeld, Brunswick, Quedlinburg, Goslar, Gelnhausen, etc. They
are very numerous, and many of them are sufficiently large for
architectural effect; but in the earlier Romanesque work they are
somewhat heavy, and in the age of the pointed Gothic style there is a
tendency to attenuation which is the reverse of pleasing. In some of the
early churches there is considerable refinement, as may be seen in the
narthex porch of the cathedral of Soest (Woodcut No. 706); and in the
Schloss Kirche at Quedlinburg there is a profusion of sculpture in the
capitals, some of which show considerable Byzantine influence.
A good deal of the heaviness of the northern churches internally may no
doubt be traced to the circumstance that the earlier examples depended
almost wholly on colour for their ornament, and the painting having
disappeared, the plain stone or plaster surfaces remain—their flatness
being made only the more prominent by the whitewash that now covers
them. Notwithstanding these defects, so many of these churches remain in
a state so nearly unaltered at the present day, that much information
might be gleaned from a study of their peculiarities. The three
examples, for instance, given in Woodcut No. 706, illustrate very
completely the progress of German spire-growth. The first, that of
Minden, is a very early example of the façade screen so popular
throughout Germany in the Middle Ages. The central example, from the
cathedral at Paderborn, belonging to the middle of the 11th century,
shows one of the earliest attempts at a spire-like roof to a tower, four
gables being used instead of the two which were generally employed. The
third illustration, from Soest, about A.D. 1200, shows the transition
complete. The four gables are still there, but do not extend to the
angles, nor do they form the principal roof. The corners are cut off, so
as to suggest an octagon, and a second roof has grown up to the form of
a spire, entirely eclipsing that suggested by the gables. In this
instance also the tower has become a specimen of a complete design, and,
though the narthex or porch has somewhat the appearance of being stuck
on, the upper part of the tower is of considerable elegance.
[Illustration:
Church at Minden. Cathedral at Paderborn. Church at Soest.
706. From ‘Mitteralterliche Kunst in Westphalen,’ von W. Lübke.
]