SCULPTURE IN STONE
(_England and Germany_)
A progressive history of English sculpture in stone could be compiled
by going from church to church, and studying the tympana, over
the doors, in Romanesque and Norman styles, and in following the
works in the spandrils between the arches in early Gothic work.
First we find rude sculptures, not unlike those in France. The
Saxon work like the two low reliefs now to be seen in Chichester
Cathedral show dug-out lines and almost flat modelling; then the
Norman, slightly rounded, are full of historic interest and
significance, though often lacking in beauty. The two old panels
alluded to, now in Chichester, were supposed to have been brought
from Selsea Cathedral, having been executed about the twelfth century.
There is a good deal of Byzantine feeling in them; one represents
the Raising of Lazarus, and the other, Our Lord entering the house
of Mary and Martha. The figures are long and stiff, and there is
a certain quality in the treatment of draperies not unlike that
in the figures at Chartres.
Then follows the very early Gothic, like the delightful
little spandrils in the chapter house at Salisbury, and at Westminster,
familiar to all travellers. They are full of life, partly through the
unanatomic contortions by means of which they are made to express
their emotions. Often one sees elbows bent the wrong way to emphasize
the gesture of denunciation, or a foot stepping quite across the
instep of its mate in order to suggest speed of motion. Early Gothic
work in England is usually bas-relief; one does not find the statue
as early as in France. In 1176 William of Sens went over to England,
to work on Canterbury Cathedral, and after that French influence
was felt in most of the best English work in that century. Before
the year 1200 there was little more than ornamented spaces, enriched
by carving; after that time, figure sculpture began in earnest,
and, in statues and in effigies, became a large part of the
craftsmanship of the thirteenth century.
The transition was gradual. First small separate heads began to
obtain, as corbels, and were bracketed at the junctures of the
arch-mouldings in the arcade and triforium of churches. Then on
the capitals little figures began to emerge from the clusters of
foliage. In many cases the figures are very inferior to the faces,
as if more time and study had been given to expressing emotions
than to displaying form. The grotesque became very general. Satire
and caricature had no other vehicle in the Middle Ages than the
carvings in and out of the buildings, for the cartoon had not yet
become possible, and painting offered but a limited scope to the
wit, especially in the North; in Italy this outlet for humour was
added to that of the sculptor.
Of the special examples of great figure sculpture in England the
façade at Wells is usually considered the most significant. The
angel choir at Lincoln, too, has great interest; there is real
power in some of the figures, especially the angel with the flaming
sword driving Adam and Eve from Eden, and the one holding aloft a
small figure,--probably typical of the Creation. At Salisbury, too,
there is much splendid figure sculpture; it is cause for regret
that the names of so few of the craftsmen have survived.
Wells Cathedral is one of the most interesting spots in which to
study English Gothic sculpture. Its beautiful West Front is covered
with tier after tier of heroes and saints; it was finished in 1242.
This is the year that Cimabue was three years old; Niccola Pisano
had lived during its building, Amiens was finished forty-six years
later, and Orvieto was begun thirty-six years later. It is literally
the earliest specimen of so advanced and complete a museum of sculpture
in the West. Many critics have assumed that the statues on the West
Front of Wells were executed by foreign workmen; but there are
no special characteristics of any known foreign school in these
figures. Messrs. Prior and Gardner have recently expressed their
opinion that these statues, like most of the thirteenth century
work in England, are of native origin. The theory is that two kinds
of influence were brought to bear to create English "imagers."
In the first place, goldsmiths and ivory carvers had been making
figures on a small scale: their trade was gradually expanded until
it reached the execution of statues for the outside ornament of
buildings. The figures carved by such artists are inclined to be
squat, these craftsmen having often been hampered by being obliged
to accommodate their design to their material, and to treat the
human figure to appear in spaces of such shapes as circles, squares,
and trefoils. Another class of workers who finally turned their
attention to statuary, were the carvers of sepulchral slabs: these
slabs had for a long time shown the effigies of the deceased. This
theory accounts for both types of figures that are found in English
Gothic,--the extremely attenuated, and the blunt squat statues. At
Wells it would seem that both classes of workmen were employed,
some of the statues being short and some extremely tall. They were
executed, evidently, at different periods, the façade being gradually
decorated, sometimes in groups of several statues, and sometimes
in simple pairs. This theory, too, lends a far greater interest
to the west front than the theory that it was all carried out at
once, from one intentional design.
St. Nicholas, the patron saint of Baptism, is here represented,
holding a child on his arm, and standing in water up to his knees.
The water, being treated in a very conventional way, coiling about
the lower limbs, is so suggestive of tiers of flat discs, that
it has won for this statue the popular name of "the pancake
man," for he certainly looks as if he had taken up his position
in the midst of a pile of pancakes, into which he had sunk.
The old statue of St. Hugh at Lincoln is an attractive early Gothic
work. In 1743 he was removed from his precarious perch on the top
of a stone pinnacle, and was placed more firmly afterwards. In a
letter from the Clerk of the Works this process was described.
"I must acquaint you that I took down the antient image of St.
Hugh, which is about six foot high, and stood upon the summit of a
stone pinnacle at the South corner of the West Front... and pulled
down twenty-two feet of the pinnacle itself, which was ready to
tumble into ruins, the shell being but six inches thick, and the
ribs so much decayed that it declined visibly.... I hope to see
the saint fixed upon a firmer basis before the Winter." On the top
of a turret opposite St. Hugh is the statue of the Swineherd of
Stowe. This personage became famous through contributing a peck of
silver pennies toward the building of the cathedral. As is usually
the case, the saint and the donor therefore occupy positions of
equal exaltation! The swineherd is equipped with a winding horn.
A foolish tradition without foundation maintains that this figure
does not represent the Swineherd at all, but is a play upon the
name of Bishop Bloet,--the horn being intended to suggest "Blow
it!" It seems hardly possible to credit the mediæval wit with no
keener sense of humour than to perpetrate such a far-fetched pun.
The Lincoln Imp, who sits enthroned at the foot of a cul-de-lampe
in the choir, is so familiar to every child, now, through his
photographs and casts, that it is hardly necessary to describe
him. But many visitors to the cathedral fail to come across the old
legend of his origin. It is as follows: "The wind one day brought
two imps to view the new Minster at Lincoln. Both imps were greatly
impressed with the magnitude and beauty of the structure, and one
of them, smitten by a fatal curiosity, slipped inside the building
to see what was going on. His temerity, however, cost him dear,
for he was so petrified with astonishment, that his heart became
as stone within him, and he remained rooted to the spot. The other
imp, full of grief at the loss of his brother, flew madly round
the Minster, seeking in vain for the lost one. At length, being
wearied out, he alighted, quite unwittingly, upon the shoulders
of a certain witch, and was also, and in like manner, instantly
turned to stone. But the wind still haunts the Minster precincts,
waiting their return, now hopelessly desolate, now raging with
fury." A verse, also, is interesting in this connection:
"The Bishop we know died long ago,
The wind still waits, nor will he go,
Till he has a chance of beating his foe.
But the devil hopped without a limp,
And at once took shape as the Lincoln Imp.
And there he sits atop of a column,
And grins at the people who gaze so solemn,
Moreover, he mocks at the wind below,
And says: 'You may wait till doomsday, O!'"
The effigies in the Round Church at the Temple in London have created
much discussion. They represent Crusaders, two dating from the
twelfth century, and seven from the thirteenth. Most of them have
their feet crossed, and the British antiquarian mind has exploited
and tormented itself for some centuries in order to prove, or to
disprove, that this signifies that the warriors were crusaders who
had actually fought. There seems now to be rather a concensus of
opinion that they do not represent Knights Templars, but "associates
of the Temple." As none of them can be certainly identified, this
controversy would appear to be of little consequence to the world
at large. The effigies are extremely interesting from an artistic
point of view, and, in repairing them, in 1840, Mr. Richardson
discovered traces of coloured enamels and gilding, which must have
rendered them most attractive.
Henry III. of England was a genuine art patron, and even evinced
some of the spirit of socialism so dear to the heart of William
Morris, for the old records relate that the Master Mason, John
of Gloucester, was in the habit of taking wine each day with the
King! This shows that Henry recognized the levelling as Well as
the raising power of the arts. In 1255 the king sent five casks of
wine to the mason, in payment for five with which John of Gloucester
had accommodated his Majesty at Oxford! This is an intimate and
agreeable departure from the despotic and grim reputation of early
Kings of England.
In 1321 the greatest mediæval craftsman in England was Alan de
Walsingham, who built the great octagon from which Ely derives its
chief character among English cathedrals. In a fourteenth century
manuscript in the British Museum is a tribute to him, which is
thus translated by Dean Stubbs (now Bishop of Truro):
"A Sacrist good and Prior benign,
A builder he of genius fine:
The flower of craftsmen, Alan, Prior,
Now lying entombed before the choir...
And when, one night, the old tower fell,
This new one he built, and mark it well."
This octagon was erected to the glory of God and to St. Etheldreda,
the Queen Abbess of Ely, known frequently as St. Awdry. Around
the base of the octagon, at the crests of the great piers which
carry it, Prior Alan had carved the Deeds of the Saint in a series
of decorative bosses which deserve close study. The scene of her
marriage, her subsequently taking the veil at Coldingham, and the
various miracles over which she presided, terminate in the death
and "chesting" of the saint. This ancient term is very literal,
as the body was placed in a stone coffin above the ground, and
therefore the word "burial" would be incorrect.
The tomb of Queen Eleanor in Westminster is of Purbeck marble,
treated in the style of Southern sculpture, being cut in thin slabs
and enriched with low relief ornamentation. The recumbent effigy
is in bronze, and was cast, as has been stated, by Master William
Torel. Master Walter of Durham painted the lower portion. Master
Richard Crundale was in charge of the general work.
Master John of St. Albans worked in about 1257, and was designated
"sculptor of the king's images." There was at this time a school
of sculpture at the Abbey. This Westminster School of Artificers
supplied statuettes and other sculptured ornaments to order for
various places. One of the craftsmen was Alexander "le imaginator."
In the Rolls of the Works at Westminster, there is an entry, "Master
John, with a carpenter and assistant at St. Albans, worked on the
lectern." This referred to a copy which was ordered of a rarely
beautiful lectern at St. Albans' cathedral, which had been made by
the "incomparable Walter of Colchester." Labour was cheap! There
is record of three shillings being paid to John Benet for three
capitals!
Among Westminster labourers was one known as Brother Ralph, the
Convert; this individual was a reformed Jew. Among the craftsmen
selected to receive wine from the convent with "special grace" is
the goldsmith, Master R. de Fremlingham, who was then the Abbey
plumber.
There was a master mason in 1326, who worked at Westminster and
in various other places on His Majesty's Service. This was William
Ramsay, who also superintended the building then in progress at
St. Paul's, and was a man of such importance in his art, that the
mayor and aldermen ordered that he should "not be placed on juries
or inquests" during the time of his activity. He was also chief
mason at the Tower. But in spite of the city fathers it was not
possible to keep this worthy person out of court! For he and some
of his friends, in 1332, practically kidnapped a youth of fourteen
named Robert Huberd, took him forcibly from his appointed guardian,
and married him out of hand to William Ramsay's daughter Agnes,
the reason for this step being evidently that the boy had money.
Upon the complaint of his guardian, Robert was given his choice
whether he would remain with his bride or return to his former
home. He deliberately chose his new relations, and so, as the
marriage was quite legal according to existing laws, everything
went pleasantly for Master William! It made no difference, either,
in the respect of the community or the king for the master mason;
in 1344, he was appointed to superintend the building at Windsor,
and was made a member of the Common Council in 1347. Verily, the
Old Testament days were not the last in which every man "did that
which was right in his own eyes."
Carter gives some curious historical explanations of some very
quaint and little-known sculptures in a frieze high up in the Chapel
of Edward the Confessor in Westminster. One of them represents the
Trial of Queen Emma, and is quite a spirited scene. The little
accusing hands raised against the central figure of the queen,
are unique in effect in a carving of this character. Queen Emma
was accused of so many misdemeanours, poor lady! She had agreed to
marry the enemy of her kingdom, King Canute: she gave no aid to her
sons, Edward the Confessor and Alfred, when in exile; and she was
also behaving in a very unsuitable manner with Alwin, Bishop of
Winchester: she seems to have been versatile in crime, and it is
no wonder that she was invited to withdraw from her high estate.
The burial of Henry V. is interestingly described in an old manuscript
of nearly contemporary origin: "His body was embalmed and cired and
laid on a royal carriage, and an image like to him was laid upon
the corpse, open: and with divers banners, and horses, covered
with the arms of England and France, St. Edward and St. Edmund...
and brought with great solemnity to Westminster, and worshipfully
buried; and after was laid on his tomb a royal image like to himself,
of silver and gilt, which was made at the cost of Queen Katherine...
he ordained in his life the place of his sepulchre, where he is
now buried, and every daye III. masses perpetually to be sungen
in a fair chapel over his sepulchre." This exquisite arrangement
of a little raised chantry, and the noble tomb itself, was the
work of Master Mapilton, who came from Durham in 1416.
Mr. W. R. Lethaby calls attention to the practical and expedient
way in which mediæval carvers of effigies utilized their long blocks
of stone: "Notice," he says, "how... the angels at the head and
the beast at the foot were put in just to square out the block,
and how all the points of high relief come to one plane so that
a drawing board might be firmly placed on the statue." Only such
cutting away as was actually necessary was encouraged; the figure
was usually represented as putting the earthly powers beneath his
feet, while angels ministered at his head. St. Louis ordered a
crown of thorns to be placed on his head when he was dying, and
the crown of France placed at his feet. The little niches around
the tombs, in which usually stood figures of saints, were called
"hovels." It is amusing to learn this to-day, with our long established
association of the word with poverty and squalor.
Henry VII. left directions for the design of his tomb. Among other
stipulations, it was to be adorned with "ymages" of his patron
saints "of copper and gilte." Henry then "calls and cries" to his
guardian saints and directs that the tomb shall have "a grate,
in manner of a closure, of coper and gilte," which was added by
English craftsmen. Inside this grille in the early days was an
altar, containing a unique relic,--a leg of St. George.
Sculpture and all other decorative arts reached their ultimatum in
England about the time of the construction of Henry VII.'s chapel
at Westminster. The foundation stone was laid in 1502, by Henry
himself. Of the interesting monuments and carvings contained in it,
the most beautiful is the celebrated bronze figure by Torregiano
on the tomb of the king and queen, which was designed during their
lives. Torregiano was born in 1470, and died in 1522, so he is
not quite a mediæval figure, but in connection with his wonderful
work we must consider his career a moment. Vasari says that he had
"more pride than true artistic excellence." He was constantly
interfering with Michelangelo, with whom he was a student in Florence,
and on one memorable occasion they came to blows: and that was the
day when "Torregiano struck Michelangelo on the nose with his fist,
using such terrible violence and crushing that feature in such a
manner that the proper form could never be restored to it, and
Michelangelo had his nose flattened by that blow all his life." So
Torregiano fled from the Medicean wrath which would have descended
upon him. After a short career as a soldier, impatient at not being
rapidly promoted, he returned to his old profession of a sculptor.
He went to England, where, says Vasari, "he executed many works in
marble, bronze, and wood, for the king." The chief of these was the
striking tomb of Henry VII. and the queen. Torregiano's agreement
was to make it for a thousand pounds: also there is a contract which
he signed with Henry VIII., agreeing to construct a similar tomb
also for that monarch, to be one quarter part larger than that of
Henry VII., but this was not carried out.
St. Anthony appears on a little sculptured medallion on the tomb
of Henry VII., with a small pig trotting beside him. This is St.
Anthony of Vienna, not of Padua. His legend is as follows. In an
old document, Newcourt's Repertorium, it is related that "the monks
of St. Anthony with their importunate begging, contrary to the
example of St. Anthony, are so troublesome, as, if men give them
nothing, they will presently threaten them with St. Anthony's
fire; so that many simple people, out of fear or blind zeal, every
year use to bestow on them a fat pig, or porker, which they have
ordinarily painted in their pictures of St. Anthony, whereby they
may procure their good will and their prayers, and be secure from
their menaces."
Torregiano's contract read that he should "make well, surely, cleanly,
and workmanlike, curiously, and substantially" the marble tomb
with "images, beasts, and other things, of copper, gilte." Another
craftsman who exercised his skill in this chapel was Lawrence Imber,
image maker, and in 1500 the names of John Hudd, sculptor, and
Nicolas Delphyn, occur. Some of the figures and statuettes on the
tomb were also made by Drawswerd of York.
On the outer ribs of Henry VII.'s chapel may be detected certain
little symmetrically disposed bosses, which at first glance one
would suppose to be inconspicuous crockets. But in an admirable
spirit of humour, the sculptor has here carved a series of griffins,
in procession, holding on for dear life, in the attitudes of children
sliding down the banisters. They are delightfully animated and
amusing.
The well-known figures of the Vices which stand around the quadrangle
at Magdalen College, Oxford, are interpreted by an old Latin manuscript
in the college. The statues should properly be known as the Virtues
and Vices, for some of them represent such moral qualities as Vigilance,
Sobriety, and Affection. It is indeed a shock to learn from this
presumably authoritative source, that the entertaining figure of a
patient nondescript animal, upon whose back a small reptile clings,
is _not_ intended to typify "back biting," but is intended for a
"hippopotamus, or river-horse, carrying his young one upon his
shoulders; this is the emblem of a good tutor, or fellow of the
college, who is set to watch over the youth." But a large number
of the statues are devoted to the Vices, which generally explain
themselves.
[Illustration: GROTESQUE FROM OXFORD, POPULARLY KNOWN AS "THE
BACKBITER"]
No more spirited semi-secular carvings are to be seen in England
than the delightful row of the "Beverly Minstrels." They stand on
brackets round a column in St. Mary's Church, Beverly, and are
exhibited as singing and playing on musical instruments. They were
probably carved and presented by the Minstrels or Waits, themselves,
or at any rate at their expense, for an angel near by holds a tablet
inscribed: "This pyllor made the meynstyrls." These "waits" were
quite an institution, being a kind of police to go about day and
night and inspect the precincts, announcing break of day by blowing
a horn, and calling the workmen together by a similar signal. The
figures are of about the period of Henry VII.
[Illustration: THE "BEVERLY MINSTRELS"]
The general excellence of sculpture in Germany is said to be lower
than that of France; in fact, such mediæval German sculpture as
is specially fine is based upon French work. Still, while this
statement holds good in a general way, there are marked departures,
and examples of extremely interesting and often original sculpture
in Germany, although until the work of such great masters as Albrecht
Dürer, Adam Kraft, and Viet Stoss, the wood carver, who are much
later, there is not as prolific a display of the sculptor's genius as
in France.
The figures on the Choir screen at Hildesheim are rather heavy,
and decidedly Romanesque; but the whole effect is most delightful.
Some of the heads have almost Gothic beauty. The screen is of about
1186, and the figures are made of stucco; but it is exceptionally
good stucco, very different in character from the later work, which
Browning has designated as "stucco twiddlings everywhere."
Much good German sculpture may be seen in Nüremberg. The Schöner
Brunnen, the beautiful fountain, is a delight, in spite of the
fact that one is not looking at the original, which was relegated
to the museum for safe keeping long ago. The carving, too, on the
Frauenkirche, and St. Sebald's, and on St. Lorenz, is as fine as
anything one will find in Germany. Another exception stands out
in the memory. Nothing is more exquisite than the Bride's Door,
at St. Sebald's, in Nüremberg; the figures of the Wise and Foolish
Virgins who guard the entrance could hardly be surpassed in the
realm of realistic sculpture, retaining at the same time a just
proportion of monumental feeling. They are bewitching and dainty,
full of grace not often seen in German work of that period.
The figures on the outside of Bamberg Cathedral are also as fine
as anything in France, and there are some striking examples at
Naumburg, but often the figures in German work lack lightness and
length, which are such charming elements in the French Gothic
sculptures.
At Strasburg the Cathedral is generally conceded to be the most
interesting and ornate of the thirteenth century work in Germany,
although, as has been indicated, French influence is largely
responsible. A very small deposit of this influence escaped into
the Netherlands, and St. Gudule in Brussels shows some good carving
in Gothic style.
A gruesome statue on St. Sebald's in Nüremberg represents the
puritanical idea of "the world," by exhibiting a good-looking young
woman, whose back is that of a corpse; the shroud is open, and the
half decomposed body is displayed, with snakes and toads depredating
upon it.
Among the early Renaissance artists in Nüremberg, was Hans Decker,
who was named in the Burgher Lists of 1449. He may have had influence
upon the youth of Adam Kraft, whose great pyx in St. Lorenz's is
known to everyone who has visited Germany.
Adam Kraft was born in Nüremberg in the early fifteenth century and
his work is a curious link between Gothic and Renaissance styles.
His chief characteristic is expressed by P. J. Rée, who says: "The
essence of his art is best described as a naïve realism sustained
by tender and warm religious zeal." Adam Kraft carved the Stations
of the Cross, to occupy, on the road to St. John's Cemetery in
Nüremberg, the same relative distances apart as those of the actual
scenes between Pilate's house and Golgotha. Easter Sepulchres were
often enriched with very beautiful sculptures by the first masters.
Adam Kraft carved the noble scene of the Burial of Christ in St.
John's churchyard in Nüremberg.
[Illustration: ST. LORENZ CHURCH, NUREMBERG, SHOWING ADAM KRAFT'S
PYX, AND THE HANGING MEDALLION BY VEIT STOSS]
It is curious that the same mind and hand which conceived and carved
these short stumpy figures, should have made the marvel of slim
grace, the Tabernacle, or Pyx, at St. Lorenz. A figure of the artist
kneeling, together with two workmen, one old and one young, supports
the beautiful shrine, which rears itself in graduated stages to
the tall Gothic roof, where it follows the curve of a rib, and
turns over at the top exactly like some beautiful clinging plant
departing from its support, and flowering into an exquisitely
proportioned spiral. It suggests a gigantic crozier. Before it was
known what a slender metal core followed this wonderful growth,
on the inside, there was a tradition that Kraft had discovered
"a wonderful method for softening and moulding hard stones." The
charming relief by Kraft on the Weighing Office exhibits quite
another side of his genius; here three men are engaged in weighing
a bale of goods in a pair of scales: a charming arrangement of
proportion naturally grows out of this theme, which may have been
a survival in the mind of the artist of his memory of the numerous
tympana with the Judgment of Michael weighing souls. The design is
most attractive, and the decorative feeling is enhanced by two
coats of arms and a little Gothic tracery running across the top.
When Adam Kraft died in 1508, the art of sculpture practically
ceased in Nüremberg.
[Illustration: RELIEF BY ADAM KRAFT]