Chapter III: English Mediæval Architecture (2)

For poetry of design and beauty of proportion, both in itself and in the building of which it forms a part, perhaps the Angel Tower at Canterbury is the best in England, and is superior to any of the same class of towers to be found elsewhere. It is difficult, however, among so many beautiful objects, to decide which is the best. The highest tower at Wells is only 165 ft. from the ground to the top of the pinnacle, yet it is quite sufficient for its position, and groups beautifully with the western towers. Though of different ages, the three towers at Durham group beautifully together, and the single tower at Gloucester crowns nobly the central point of that cathedral. But the same is true of all. The central tower or spire is the distinguishing feature of the external design of English cathedrals, and possessing it they in this respect surpass all their rivals.

The western façades of English cathedrals, on the contrary, are generally inferior to those on the Continent. We have none of those deeply recessed triple portals covered with sculpture which give such dignity and meaning to the façades of Paris, Amiens, Rheims, Chartres, and other French cathedrals. Beautiful as is the sculptured façade of Wells, its outline is hard, and its portals mean. Salisbury is worse. Winchester, Exeter, Canterbury, Gloucester, indeed most of our cathedrals, have mean western entrances, the principal mode of access to the building being a side door of the nave. Peterborough alone has a façade at once original and beautiful. Nothing but the portico of a classic temple can surpass the majesty of the three great arches of the façade of this church. The effect is a little marred by the fact that the central arch, which should have been the widest and have formed the chief entrance to the nave, is narrower than the other two, and, further, is blocked up by a chapel built between the central piers. The great portal in fact does not agree, either, with the main lines of the church behind, and so far must be regarded only as a decorative front; but, take it all in all, it is one of the most beautiful inventions of the Middle Ages.

Such a screen would have been better had the arches been flanked by two more important towers than those which now adorn that façade, but unless the piers of the central tower were sufficient to carry a much more important feature in the centre, the architects showed only their usual discretion in refusing to dwarf the rest of the cathedral by an exaggerated façade.

It may sound like the indulgence of national predilection to say so; but it does seem that the English architects seized the true doctrine of proportion to a greater extent than their contemporaries on the Continent, and applied it more successfully. It will be easily understood that in so complicated and constructive a machine as a Gothic cathedral, unless every part is in proportion the whole will not unite. It is as if, in a watch or any delicate piece of machinery, one wheel or one part were made stronger or larger in proportion to all the rest. It may be quite true that it would be better if all were as strong or as large as this one part; but perfection in all the arts is attained only by balance and proportion. Whenever any one part gets too large for the rest the harmony is destroyed. This the English architects perfectly understood. They kept their cathedrals narrow, that they might appear long; they kept them low, that they might not appear too narrow. They broke up the length with transepts, that it might not fatigue by monotony. Externally they kept their roofs low that with little expenditure they might obtain a varied and dignified sky-line, and they balanced every part against every other so as to get the greatest value out of each without interfering with the whole. A Gothic cathedral, however, is so complicated—there are so many parts and so many things to think of—that none can be said to be perfect. A pyramid may be so, or a tower, or a Greek temple, or any very simple form of building, whatever its size; but a Gothic cathedral hardly can be made so—at least has not yet, though perhaps it might now be; but in the meanwhile the English, considering the limited dimensions of their buildings, seem to have approached a perfect ideal more nearly than any other nation during the Middle Ages.

DIVERSITY OF STYLE.

There is still another consideration which must not be lost sight of in attempting to estimate the relative merit of Continental and English cathedrals; which is, the extraordinary diversity of style which generally prevails in the same building in this country as compared with those abroad. All the Great French cathedrals—such as Paris, Rheims, Chartres, Bourges, and Amiens—are singularly uniform throughout. Internally it requires a very keen perception of style to appreciate the difference, and externally the variations are generally in the towers, or in unessential adjuncts which hardly interfere with the general design. In this country we have scarcely a cathedral, except Salisbury, of which this can be said. It is true that Norwich is tolerably uniform in plan and in the detail of its walls up to a certain height; but the whole of the vaulting is of the 15th century, and the windows are all filled with tracery of the same date. At Ely, a Norman nave leads up to the octagon and choir of the 14th century, and we then pass on to the presbytery of the 13th. At Canterbury and Winchester the anomalies are still greater; and at Gloucester, owing to the perpendicular tracery being spread over the Norman skeleton, they become absolutely bewildering.

In some, as Wells or York, it must be confessed the increase in richness from the western entrance to Lady Chapel is appropriate, and adds to the effect of the church more than if the whole were uniform throughout. This is particularly felt at Lincoln, where the simplicity of the early English nave and choir blossoms at last into the chaste beauty of the Angel Choir at the east end. It follows so immediately after the rest as not to produce any want of harmony, while it gives such a degree of enrichment as is suitable to the sanctity of the altar and the localities which surround it.

Even, however, when this is not the case, the historical interest attaching to these examples of the different ages of English architecture goes far to compensate for the want of architectural symmetry, and in this respect the English cathedrals excel all others. That history which on the Continent must be learnt from the examination of fifty different examples, may frequently be found in England written complete in a single cathedral. The difficulty is to descriminate how much of the feeling thus excited is due to Archæology, and how much to Architecture. In so far as the last-named art is concerned, it must probably be confessed that our churches do suffer from the various changes they have undergone, which, when architecture alone is considered, frequently turn the balance against them when compared with their Continental rivals.

SITUATION.

Whatever conclusion may be arrived at with regard to some of the points mooted in the above section, there can be no doubt that in beauty of situation and pleasing arrangement of the entourage the English cathedrals surpass all others. On the Continent the cathedral is generally situated in the market-place, and frequently encumbered by shops and domestic buildings, not stuck up against it in barbarous times, but either contemporary, or generally at least Mediæval; and their great abbeys are frequently situated in towns, or in localities possessing no particular beauty of feature. In England this is seldom or never the case. The cathedral was always surrounded by a close of sufficient extent to afford a lawn of turf and a grove of trees. Even in the worst times of Anne and the Georges, when men chiselled away the most exquisite Gothic canopies to set up wooden classical altar-screens, they spared the trees and cherished the grass; and it is to this that our cathedrals owe half their charm. There can be no greater mistake than to suppose that the architect’s mission ceases with heaping stone on stone, or arranging interiors for convenience and effect. The situation is the first thing he should study; the arrangement of the accessories, though the last, is still amongst the most important of his duties.

Durham owes half its charm to its situation, and Lincoln much of its grandeur. Without its park the cathedral at Ely would lose much of its beauty; and Wells lying in its well wooded and watered vale, forms a picture which may challenge comparison with anything of its class. Even when situated in towns, as Canterbury, Winchester, or Gloucester, a sufficient space is left for a little greenery and to keep off the hum and movement of the busy world. York, among our great cathedrals is about the most unfortunate in this respect, and suffers accordingly. But in order to appreciate how essentially the love of Nature mingled with the taste for architectural beauty during the Middle Ages, it is necessary to visit some of the ruined abbeys whose remains still sanctify the green valleys or the banks of placid streams in every corner of England.

Even if it should be decided that in some respects the architects of England must yield the palm to those of the Continent as regards the mechanical perfection of their designs, it must at least be conceded, that in combining the beauties of Art with those of Nature they were unrivalled. Their buildings are always well fitted to the position in which they are placed. The subsidiary edifices are always properly subordinated, never too crowded nor too widely spaced, and always allowing when possible for a considerable admixture of natural objects. Too frequently in modern times—even in England—this has been neglected; but it is one of the most important functions of the architect, and the means by which in many instances most agreeable effects have been produced.

CHAPTER-HOUSES.

The chapter-house is too important and too beautiful an adjunct to be passed over in any sketch, however slight, of English architecture. It also is almost exclusively national. There are, it is true, some “Salles Capitulaires” attached to Continental cathedrals or conventual establishments, but they are little more than large vestry-rooms, with none of that dignity or special ordinance that belongs to the English examples. One cause of the small importance attached to this feature on the Continent was that, in the original basilica, the apse was the assembly-place, where the bishop sat in the centre of his clergy and regulated the affairs of the church. In Italy this arrangement continued till late in the Middle Ages. In France it never seems to have had any real existence, though figuratively it always prevailed. In England we find the Bishop’s throne still existing in the choir at Norwich; and at Canterbury, and doubtless in all the apsidal Norman cathedrals, this form of consistory originally existed. Such an arrangement was well suited for the delivery of an allocution or pastoral address by the bishop to his clergy, and was all that was required in a despotic hierarchy like the French Church; but it was by no means in accordance with the Anglo-Saxon idea of a deliberate assembly which should discuss every question as a necessary preliminary to its being promulgated as a law.

In consequence of this, we find in England chapter-houses attached to cathedrals even in early Norman times. These were generally rectangular rooms, 25 or 30 ft. wide by about twice that extent in length. We can still trace their form at Canterbury and Winchester. They exist at Gloucester and Bristol and elsewhere. So convenient and appropriate does this original form appear, that it is difficult to understand why it was abandoned, unless it was that the resonance was intolerable. The earliest innovation seems to have been at Durham, where, in 1133, a chapter-house was commenced with its inner end semicircular; but shortly after this, at Worcester, a circular chamber with a central pillar was erected, and the design was so much approved of, that it became the typical form of the English chapter-house ever afterwards. Next, apparently, in date came Lincoln, and shortly afterwards the two beautiful edifices at Westminster and Salisbury. The former, commenced about the year 1250, became, without any apparent incongruity, the parliament-house of the nation, instead of the council-chamber of a monastic establishment; and all the parliaments of the kingdom were held within its walls till the dissolution of the religious orders placed the more convenient rectangular chapel of St. Stephen at their disposal. Now that it has been restored, we are enabled to judge of the beauty of its proportions; and, from the remains of paintings which have been so wonderfully preserved, of the beauty of the art with which it was once decorated. It only wants coloured glass in its windows to enable us to realise the beauty of these truly English edifices.

That at Bristol is late in the style (1155-1170), and consequently almost approaches the transitional epoch, but is very rich and beautiful. The eastern end has been unfortunately pulled down and rebuilt, but the western end, shown in the annexed Woodcut (No. 839), is one of the richest and best specimens of late Norman work to be found anywhere.

But, having once got rid of the central pillar, which was the great defect of their construction as halls of assembly, they would hardly have reverted to it again, and a true Gothic dome might have been the result had the style been continued long enough to admit of its being perfected.

Salisbury chapter-house (Woodcut No. 840) was erected shortly afterwards; and, though its original beauties have been to a great extent washed out by modern restorations, it still affords a very perfect type of an English chapter-house of the 13th century, at a time when the French geometric tracery was most in vogue. That at Wells (1293-1302, Woodcut No. 841), however, is more beautiful and more essentially English in all its details. The tracery of the windows, the stalls below them, and the ornaments of the roof, are all of that perfect type which prevailed in this country about the year 1300. Its central pillar may perhaps be considered a little too massive for the utilitarian purpose of the building, but as an architectural feature its proportions are perfect. Still the existence of the pillar was a defect that it was thought expedient to remove, if possible; and it was at last accomplished in the chapter-house at York, the most perfect example of the class existing, as its boasting inscription testifies,—

“Ut Rosa flos florum,
Sic Domus ista Domorum.”

Like all the rest of them, its diameter is 57 or 58 ft.—as has been suggested, an octagon inscribed in a circle of 60 ft. diameter. In this instance alone has a perfect Gothic dome been accomplished. It is 12 ft. less in diameter than the lantern at Ely, and much less in height; but it is extremely beautiful both in design and detail, and makes us regret more and more that, having gone so far, the Gothic architects did not follow out this invention to its legitimate conclusion.

By the time, however, that York chapter-house was complete, all the great cathedrals and monastic establishments had been provided with this indispensable adjunct to their ecclesiastical arrangements, and none were erected either in the Lancastrian or Tudor periods of the art, so that we can hardly guess what might have been done had a monastic parliament-house been attempted at a later date.[110]

CHAPELS.[111]

Although not so strictly peculiar, the forms of English chapels were so original and offer so many points of interest that they are well worthy of study.

With the exception of the chapel in the White Tower there is perhaps no example of a Norman Chapel now existing, unless the remains of the infirmary chapels at Canterbury and Ely may be considered as such. The practice of erecting them seems to have risen with our educational colleges, where all those present took part in the service, and the public were practically excluded. One of the finest and earliest of these is that of Merton College, Oxford. It has, and was always designed to have, a wooden roof; but of what fashion is not quite clear, except that it certainly could never have been like the one now existing.

The typical specimen of that age, however, was the royal chapel of St. Stephen at Westminster, which, from what remained of it till after the Great Fire, we know must have been the most exquisitely beautiful specimen of English art left us by the Middle Ages.[112]

It was 92 ft. long by 33 ft. wide internally, and 42 ft. high to the springing of the roof. This was of wood, supported by hammer-beam trusses similar to, but evidently more delicate in design and more elegantly carved than those of Westminster Hall, which were apparently copied from those of the chapel. The proportions were beautiful; but the greatest charm was in its details, which were carried out evidently by the best artists, and with all the care that was required in the principal residence of the sovereign.

Though nearly a century later in date,[113] St. Stephen’s Chapel is so nearly a counterpart of the royal chapel of Paris—“the Sainte Chapelle”— that it may be worth while to pause a second to compare the two. In dimensions, on plan, they are not dissimilar; both are raised on an under-croft or crypt of great beauty. The French example has the usual apsidal termination; the English the equally characteristic square east end. The French roof is higher and vaulted; the English was lower and of wood. It is impossible to deny that the French chapel is very beautiful, and only wants increased dimensions to merit the title of a sublime specimen of Gothic art; but the English example was far more elegant. All the parts are better balanced, and altogether it was a far more satisfactory example than its more ambitious rival, of the highest qualities to which the art of the Middle Ages could attain.

Half plan Upper Storey.

Half plan Crypt.

844. Plan of Ste. Chapelle, Paris. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.]

Half plan Upper Storey.

Half plan Crypt.

845. Plan of St. Stephen’s, Westminster. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.]

We have an excellent means of ascertaining how far St. Stephen’s Chapel would have been damaged by a vaulted roof, by comparing it with the nearly contemporary chapel at Ely (1321-1349), erected under the superintendence of the same Alan de Walsingham who designed the octagon of the church. Its internal dimensions are 100 ft. long by 43 wide, and sixty high. The details of the screen of niches which form a dado round the whole chapel are perhaps, without exception, the most exquisite specimens of decorative carving that survive from the Middle Ages. The details of the side windows are also good, but the end windows are bad in design, and neither externally nor internally fit the spaces in which they are placed. With painted glass this might be remedied, internally at least; but the whole design is thrown out of harmony by its stone roof. As a vault its width is too great for its length; the height insufficient for its other dimensions; and altogether, though its details are beyond all praise, it leaves a more unsatisfactory impression on the mind than almost any other building of its class.

King’s College Chapel at Cambridge (1479-1515) errs in exactly the opposite direction. It is too long for its width, but has height sufficient to redeem the length, though at the expense of exaggerating its narrowness. These, however are all errors in the direction of sublimity of effect; and though greater balance would have been more satisfactory, the chapel is internally so beautiful that it is impossible not to overlook them. It is more sublime than the Saint Chapelle, though, from its late age, wanting the beauty of detail of that building.

Henry VII.’s Chapel, Westminster (1502-1515), differs from all previous examples, in having side-aisles with chapels at the east end and a clerestory. Its proportions are not, however, pleasing, but it makes up in richness of detail for any defects of design.

Of the three royal chapels, that at Windsor (1475-1521) is perhaps on the whole the most satisfactory. Being a chapel it has no western or central towers to break its sky-line and give it external dignity; but internally it is a small cathedral, and notwithstanding the lateness of some of its details (part of the vault was finished in the reign of Henry VIII.), is so elegant and so appropriate in every part as to be certainly one of the most beautiful Gothic buildings in existence; for its size, perhaps the most beautiful. Considering that these three last-named chapels were being erected contemporaneously with St. Peter’s at Rome, it is wonderful how little trace of classic feeling they betray; and how completely not only Gothic details but true Gothic feeling still prevailed in this country almost up to the outbreak of the Reformation.

PARISH CHURCHES.

Were it possible in a work like this to attempt anything approaching an exhaustive enumeration of the various objects of interest produced during the Middle Ages, it would be impossible to escape a very long chapter on the parish churches of England. They are not so magnificent as her cathedrals, nor so rich as her chapels; but for beauty of detail and appropriateness of design they are unsurpassed by either, while on the Continent there is nothing to compare with them. The parochial system seems to have been more firmly rooted in the affection of the people of this country than of any other. Especially in the 14th and 15th centuries the parishioners took great pride in their churches, and those then erected are consequently more numerous as well as more ornamental than at any other time.

Strange to say, considering how common the circular form was in the countries from which our forefathers are said to have emigrated, it never took root in England. The round churches at Cambridge, Northampton, and London, were certainly sepulchral, or erected in imitation of the church at Jerusalem. The one known example of a village church with a circular nave is that at Little Maplestead, in Essex. It is of the pure German or Scandinavian type[114]—a little St. Gereon, standing alone in this form in England; but a curious modification of it occurs in the eastern counties, in which this church is situated, which points very distinctly to the origin of a great deal of the architecture of that country. There are in Norfolk and Suffolk some forty or fifty churches with round Western towers, which seem undoubtedly to be mere modifications of the western round nave of the Scandinavian churches. At page 331, Läderbro Church (Woodcut No. 795) was pointed out as an example of a circular nave attenuated into a steeple, and there are no doubt many others of the same class in Scandinavia. It was, however, in England, where rectangular naves were common, that the compromise found in this country became fashionable. These Norfolk churches with round towers may consequently be looked upon as safe indexes of the existence of Scandinavian influences in the eastern counties, and also as interesting examples of the mode in which a compromise is frequently hit upon between the feelings of intrusive races and the habits of the previous inhabitants.

It is doubtful whether round-naved and round-towered churches existed in the eastern counties anterior to the Norman Conquest; so far as we know, none have been described. The earliest that are known were erected during the Norman period, and extend certainly down to the end of the Edwardian period. Some of the towers have perpendicular details, but these seem insertions, and consequently do not indicate the date of the essential parts of the structure.

As a rule, the English parish church is never vaulted, that species of magnificence being reserved, after the Norman times at least, for cathedrals and collegiate churches; but on the other hand, their wooden roofs are always appropriate, and frequently of great beauty. So essential does the vault appear to have been to Gothic architecture both abroad and in this country, that it is at first sight difficult to admit that any other form of covering can be as beautiful. But some of the roofs in English churches go far to refute the idea. Even, however, if they are not in themselves so monumental and so grand, they had at least this advantage, that the absence of the vault allowed the architect to play with the construction of the substructure. He was enabled to lighten the pillars of the nave to any extent he thought consistent with dignity, and to glaze his clerestory in a manner which must have given extreme brilliancy to the interior when the whole was filled with painted glass. Generally with a wooden roof there were two windows in the clerestory for one in the aisles: with a vaulted roof the tendency was the other way. Had they dared, they would have put one above for two below. But the great merit of a wooden roof was, that it enabled the architect to dispense with all flying buttresses, exaggerated pinnacles, and mechanical expedients, which were necessary to support a vault, but which often sadly hampered and crowded his designs.

So various were the forms these wooden roofs took that they almost defy classification. The earlier and best type was a reminiscence, rather than an imitation, of the roof of St. Stephen’s Chapel or Westminster Hall, but seldom so deeply framed. That at Trunch Church, Norfolk (Woodcut No. 850), may be taken as a fair average specimen of the form adopted for the larger spans, and that at New Walsingham of the mode adopted for roofing aisles. Some, of course, are simpler, but many much more elaborate. In later periods they become flatter, and more like the panelled ceiling of a hall or chamber; but they were always perfectly truthful in construction, and the lead was laid directly on the boarded framing. They thus avoided the double roof, which was so inherent a defect in the vaulted forms, where the stone ceiling required to be protected externally by a true roof.

Among so many examples it is difficult to select one which shall represent the class, but the annexed plan of Walpole St. Peter’s, Norfolk, will suffice to explain the typical arrangement of an English parish church. In almost every instance the nave had aisles, and was lighted by a clerestory. The chancel was narrow and deep, without aisles, and with a square termination. There was one tower, with a belfry, generally, but not always, at the west end; and the principal entrance was by a south door, usually covered by a porch of more or less magnificence, frequently, as in this instance, vaulted, and with a muniment room or library chamber over it.

Often, as at Coventry, Boston, and other places, these churches with the above described arrangements almost reached the dimensions of small cathedrals, the towers and spires matching those of the proudest ecclesiastical edifices; and in many instances the details of their tracery and the beauty of their sculptured ornaments are quite equal to anything to be found in the cathedral of the diocese.

DETAILS.

When we consider the brilliancy of invention displayed in the decorative details of French ecclesiastical buildings, the play of fancy and the delicacy of execution, it must perhaps be admitted that in this respect the French architects of the Middle Ages far excelled those of any other nation. This was, no doubt, due in a great measure to the reminiscences of classical art that remained in the country, especially in the south, where the barbarian influence never really made itself felt, and whence the feeling gradually spread northwards; and may be traced in the quasi-classical details of the best French examples of the 13th century, even in the Isle de France. More also should perhaps be ascribed to the Celtic feeling for art, which still characterises the French nation, and has influenced it ever since its people became builders.

Though the English must yield the palm to the French in this respect, there is still a solidity and appropriateness of purpose in their details which goes far to compensate for any want of fancy. There is also in this country a depth of cutting and a richness of form, arising from the details being so often imitated from wood-carving, which is architecturally more valuable than the more delicate exuberance of French examples.

These remarks apply with almost equal force to figure-sculpture as a mode of decoration. Neither in Germany nor in this country is anything to be found at all comparable with the great sculptural Bibles of Rheims, Chartres, Bourges, and other great cathedrals of France; even such at Poitiers, Arles, St. Gilles, are richer in this respect than many of our largest churches. It is true that the sculptures of the façade at Wells, or of the Angel Choir at Lincoln, and the façade of Croyland Abbey, are quite equal in merit to anything of the same period on the Continent; and, had there been the same demand, we might have done as well or better than any other nation. Whether it arose from a latent feeling of respect for the Second Commandment, or a cropping out of Saxon feeling, certain it is that, with certain exceptions, such as the Lady Chapel at Ely, figure-sculpture gradually died out in England. In the 14th century it was not essential; in the 15th and 16th it was subordinate to the architectural details, and in this respect the people became Protestant long before they thought of protesting against the pope and the papist form of worship.

As already hinted at, it is probable that a great deal of the richness of English decorative carving is due to the employment, in early times, of wood as a building material in preference to stone. It is difficult, for instance, to understand how such a form of decorative arch as that on the old staircase at Canterbury could have arisen from any exigency of stone construction; but it displays all that freedom of form and richness of carving that might easily arise from the employment of timber.

The same remarks apply, though in a less degree, to the Norman gateway at Bristol (Woodcut No. 854); which may be regarded as a typical specimen of the style—sober, and constructive, yet rich—without a vestige of animal life, but with such forms as an ivory or wood carver might easily invent, and would certainly adopt.

The great defect of such a style of decoration as this was its extreme elaboration. It was almost impossible to carry out a large building, every part of which should be worked up to the same key-note as this; and, if it had been done, it would have been felt that the effect was not commensurate with the labour bestowed upon it. What the architects therefore set to work to invent was some mode of decoration which should be effective with a less expenditure of labour. This they soon discovered in the deep-cut mouldings of the Gothic arch, with the occasional intermixture of the dog-tooth moulding (as in the nave at Lichfield, Woodcut No. 812), which was one of the earliest and most effective discoveries of the 13th century. Sometimes a band of foliage was introduced with the dog-tooth, as in the doorways leading to the choir aisles at Lincoln (Woodcut No. 855), making together as effective a piece of decoration as any in the whole range of English architecture,—more difficult to design, but less expensive to execute, than many Norman examples, and infinitely more effective when done.

The west doorway at Lichfield (A.D. 1275, Woodcut No. 856) shows the style in its highest degree of perfection. There is just that admixture of architectural moulding with decorative foliage which is necessary to harmonise the constructive necessities of the building with the decorative purposes to which it was to be applied, combined with a feeling of elegance which could only have proceeded from a thoroughly cultivated and refined class of intellect.

Everything in England of the same age bears the same impress, so that it is difficult to go wrong in selecting examples, though hopeless to expect, with any reasonable amount of illustration, to explain its beauties. The niches at the back of the altar-screen at Winchester are among the best examples of that combination of constructive lines and decorative details which when properly balanced make up the perfection of architectural decoration; or, perhaps, even better than these are the heads of the three niches over the sedilia in the parish church at Heckington in Lincolnshire (Woodcut No. 858). The style of these examples is peculiar to England, and quite equal to anything that can be found on the Continent; and thousands of examples, more or less perfect, executed during the Edwardian period, exist in every corner of the country. Bishop Marshall’s tomb at Exeter (Woodcut No. 621), though somewhat earlier, displays the same playful combination of conventional foliage with architectural details.

After the year 1300, however, we can perceive a change gradually creeping over the style of decoration. Constructive forms are becoming more and more prominent; merely decorative features being gradually dropped as years went on. In Prior de Estria’s screen in Canterbury Cathedral, for instance (Woodcut No. 859), though all the elegance of earlier times is retained, the principal features are mechanical, and the decoration much more subdued than in the examples just quoted. The celebrated doorway leading to the chapter-house at Rochester (Woodcut No. 860) is a still more striking example of this. It is rich even to excess; but the larger part of its decoration consists of ornaments which could be drawn with instruments. Of free-hand carving there is comparatively little: and though the whole effect is very satisfactory, there is so evident a tendency towards the mere mechanical arrangement of the Perpendicular style that it does not please to the same extent as earlier works of the same class.

TOMBS.

Among the more beautiful objects of decorative art with which our churches were adorned during the Middle Ages are the canopies or shrines erected over the burying-places of kings or prelates, or as cenotaphs in honour of their memory. Simple slabs, with a figure upon them, seem to have been all that was attempted during the Norman period; but the pomp of sepulchral magnificence gradually developed itself, so that by the end of the 13th or beginning of the 14th century we have some of the most splendid specimens existing, and the practice lasted down almost to the Renaissance, as exemplified in Bishop West’s tomb at Ely (1515-1534), or Bishop Gardiner’s at Winchester (1531-1555).

At first the tomb-builders were content with a simple wooden tester, like that which covers the tomb of the Black Prince at Canterbury; but this became one of great beauty when applied, as in Westminster Abbey, to the tomb of Edward III. (Woodcut No. 862), where its appropriateness and beauty of detail distinguish it from many more ambitious shrines in stone.

In general design these two monuments are similar to one another, and must have been erected very nearly at the same time—the difference being in the superior richness and elaboration of the regal as compared with the princely tomb.

Although this form of wooden tester was the most usual in monuments of the age, stone canopies were also frequently employed, as in the well-known monument of Aymer de Valence (died 1324) in Westminster Abbey. But all previous examples were excelled by the beautiful shrine which the monks of Gloucester erected, at a considerably later period, over the burying-place of the unfortunate Edward II. (Woodcut No. 863). In its class there is nothing in English architecture more beautiful than this. It belongs to the very best age of the style, and is carried out with a degree of propriety and elegance which has not been surpassed by any example now remaining. If the statues with which it was once adorned could now be replaced, it would convey a more correct idea of the style of the Edwardian period than can be obtained from larger examples.

It seems to have been as much admired then as now; for we find its form repeated, with more or less correctness of outline and detail, at Winchester, at Tewkesbury, and St. Alban’s, as well as elsewhere, the whole forming a series of architectural illustrations unmatched in their class by anything on the continent of Europe.

As a fine specimen of the form taken by a multitude of these tombs during the last period of Gothic art we may select that of Bishop Redman at Ely (1501-1506). Though so late in date, there is nothing offensive either in its form or detail. On the contrary, it is well proportioned and appropriate; and though there is a little display of over-ingenuity in making the three arches of the canopy sustain themselves without intermediate supports, this is excusable from its position between two massive piers. It is doing in stone what had been done in wood over Edward III.’s tomb at Westminster, and is one of many instances which might be quoted of the interchangeableness of wooden and stone forms during the whole of the Middle Ages in this country, and a proof of the influence the one always had on the other.

Among the most beautiful monuments of a quasi-sepulchral character existing in this country are the crosses erected by Edward I. on the spots at which the body of his queen Eleanor rested on its way from Nottinghamshire to London. Originally, it is said, there were fifteen of these, all different in design. Three only now remain; one near Northampton, one at Geddington, and a third at Waltham (Woodcut No. 865).[115] Though greatly dilapidated, enough remains to show what was the original design. While extremely varied both in outline and detail, every part is elegant, and worthy of the best age of English architecture.

Had it not been the custom in those days to bury the illustrious dead within the walls of the churches, this is probably the form which sepulchral monuments would generally have taken. If we may judge from the examples left us, we can have little doubt but that, with more experience and somewhat increased dimensions, these monuments would have surpassed the spires of our cathedrals or parish churches in every respect as architectural designs. Being entirely free from utilitarian exigencies, the architect had only to consult the rules of his art in order to produce what would be most pleasing and most appropriate. We can only therefore regret that so purely English a form of sepulchral design began and ended with this one act of conjugal devotion.

CIVIL AND DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE.

One of the most remarkable characteristics of English architecture, though but a negative one, is the almost total absence of any municipal buildings during the whole period of the Middle Ages. The Guildhall of London is a late specimen, and may even be called an insignificant one, considering the importance of the city. There are also some corporation buildings at Bristol, and one or two unimportant town-halls in other cities; but there we stop. Nothing can more vividly express how completely the country was Frenchified by the result of the battle of Hastings, than this absence of municipal architecture. Till a very recent period the king, the baron, and the bishop, were the estates of the realm. The people were nowhere, and neither municipalities nor guilds could assert an independent existence.

On the other hand, in proportion to her population, England is rich in castles beyond any other country in Europe—especially of the Norman or round-arched Gothic age. Germany, as already pointed out, has some fine examples of the Hohenstaufen period. France has scarcely any, and neither France nor Germany can match such castles as those of London, Rochester, Norwich, Rising, &c. The Welsh castles of the Edwardian period form an unrivalled group themselves; and are infinitely superior, both in extent and architectural magnificence, to the much-lauded robber-dens of the Rhineland; while such castles as Raglan, Chepstow, Kenilworth, Warwick, or Windsor are, for picturesque beauty and elegance of detail, quite unmatched except by one or two ruined strongholds in the North of France. The discussion of their merits, however, would more probably come under the head of military architecture, which is excluded from this work, and cannot therefore be entered on here.

It is difficult, however, to draw the line exactly between the castles and the castellated mansion, the moated grange, and lastly the mansion or manor-house, which, towards the end of the Gothic period, had become so numerous in England, and form an architectural group so beautiful and so peculiarly English.

Taken altogether, there is perhaps no class of buildings to which an Englishman may turn with more pride than the educational establishments which the Middle Ages have left him. Though in some cases entirely rebuilt and no doubt very much altered, still the colleges of Oxford and Cambridge retain much of their original features, and are unrivalled in their kind. None of them, it is true, are very ancient as we now see them. With the exception of some of the earlier buildings at Merton, the greater number owe their magnificence to the days of Wykeham (ob. 1426) and Waynflete (ob. 1486). It was during the reign of Henry VI. (1422-1470) that the great impulse was given, not only within the limits of the Universities, but by the foundation of Eton and Winchester, and other great schools, all which belong to the 15th century. But the building of Gothic or quasi-Gothic educational establishments was continued till the death of Queen Elizabeth (1602).

In most respects, these colleges resembled the monastic establishments, which, to a certain extent, they may be considered as superseding. The principal difference was that the church of the monastery became subdued into a chapel exclusively devoted to the use of the inmates of the college. In all these establishments, whether palaces or colleges, castles or manor-houses, the principal apartment was the hall, in some cases subordinate to the chapel only. It was on the halls that the architects lavished their art, and, generally speaking, these are most entitled to be considered as architectural features. Even now there are in England at least a hundred of these halls, either entire and in use, or sufficiently perfect to render their restoration easy. All have deeply and beautifully framed roofs of timber. In this respect they stand alone, no wooden roofs on the Continent being comparable with them.

Among them the largest and grandest is, as it ought to be, the hall of the King’s Palace at Westminster, as rebuilt by Richard II. Internally it is 239 ft. long by 68 ft. in width, covering about 23,000 superficial feet. The hall at Padua is larger, and so may some others be, but none have a roof at all approaching this either in beauty of design or mechanical cleverness of execution. In this respect it stands quite alone and unrivalled, and, with the smaller roof of St. Stephen’s chapel adjoining, seems to have formed the type on which most of the subsequent roofs were framed.

The roof of the hall at Eltham (Woodcut No. 868), which belongs to the reign of Henry IV., is inferior both in dimensions and design to that at Westminster, but still displays clearly the characteristics of the style. It would have been better if the trusses had sprung from a line level with the sills of the windows, and if the arched frame had been less flat; but that was the tendency of the age, which soon became so exaggerated as to destroy the constructive proportion altogether.

We are not able to trace the gradual steps by which the hammer-beam truss was perfected, but we can follow it from the date of the hall at Westminster (1397), to Wolsey’s halls at Hampton Court and Oxford, till it passed into the Jacobean versions of Lambeth or the Inner Temple. Among all these, that of Kenilworth, though small (86 ft. × 43 ft.), must have been one of the most beautiful. It belongs to an age when the style adopted for halls had reached its acme of perfection (middle of 15th century), when the details of carpentry had been mastered, but before there was any tendency to tame the deep framing down to the flatness of a ceiling. The wooden roofs of churches were generally flatter and less deeply framed than those of the halls, which may have arisen from their being smaller in span, and being placed over clerestories with little abutment to resist a thrust; but, whether from this or any other cause, they are generally less beautiful.

There are few features of Mediæval art in this country to which attention could be more profitably directed than the roof; for, whether applied to secular or ecclesiastical buildings, the framed and carved wooden roof is essentially English in execution and application, and is one of the most beautiful and appropriate manifestations of our national art.

Did space admit of it, it would be easy to extend these remarks, and in so doing to explain and prove a great deal which in the previous pages it has been necessary to advance as mere assertion. The subject is, in fact, practically inexhaustible; as will be easily understood when it is remembered that for more than five centuries all the best intellects of the nation were more or less directed towards perfecting this great art. Priests and laymen worked with masons, painters, and sculptors; and all were bent on producing the best possible building, and improving every part and every detail, till the amount of thought and contrivance accumulated in any single great structure is almost incomprehensible. If any one man were to devote a lifetime to the study of one of our great cathedrals—assuming it to be complete in all its Mediæval arrangements— it is questionable whether he would master all its details, and fathom all the reasonings and experiments which led to the glorious result before him. And when we consider that not in the great cities alone, but in every convent and every parish, thoughtful professional men were trying to excel what had been done and was doing, by their predecessors and their fellows, we shall understand what an amount of thought is built into the walls of our churches, castles, colleges, and dwelling-houses. If any one thinks he can master and reproduce all this, he can hardly fail to be mistaken. My own impression is that not one-tenth part of it has been reproduced in all the works written on the subject up to this day, and much of it is probably lost and never again to be recovered for the instruction and delight of future ages.

COMPARATIVE TABLE OF ENGLISH CATHEDRALS.[116]

-------------+--------+---------+---------+---------+---------+--------+-------+--------+---------+------------- | | | | | | | | | Width | Approximate | Area. | Length | Western | Central | Height | Height | Width | Width | of | ratio of | | inside. | Towers. | Towers. | of | of | of | of | Central | Height to | | | | | Nave. | Choir. | Nave. | Choir. | Aisle. | Width. -------------+--------+---------+---------+---------+---------+--------+-------+--------+---------+------------- | Feet. | Feet. | Feet. | Feet. | Feet. | Feet. | Feet. | Feet. | Feet. | York | 72,860 | 486 | 196 | 198 | 93 | 101 | 106 | 102 | 51 | 1 to 2 Lincoln | 66,900 | 468 | 206 | 258 | 82 | 71 | 80 | 81 | 39 | 1 2 Winchester | 64,200 | 530 | .. | 140 | 76 | .. | 85 | .. | 35 | 1 2·43 Westminster | 61,729 | 505 | 220 | .. | 103 | .. | 75 | .. | 35 | 1 3 Ely | 61,700 | 517 | 215 | 170 | 72 | 70 | 75 | .. | 34 | 1 2·1 Canterbury | 56,280 | 514 | 152 | 229 | 80 | 70 | 73 | 85 | 33 | 1 2·4 Salisbury | 55,830 | 450 | .. | 404 | 84 | .. | 82 | .. | 35 | 1 2·3 Durham | 55,700 | 473 | 164 | 216 | 74 | .. | 81 | 77 | 32 | 1 2·3 Peterborough | 50,516 | 426 | 154 | 143 | 78 | .. | 79 | .. | 36 | 1 2 Wells | 40,680 | 388 | 125 | 165 | 67 | .. | 69 | .. | 34 | 1 2 Norwich | 40,572 | 408 | .. | 309 | 73 | .. | 70 | .. | 26 | 1 2·8 Worcester | 38,980 | 387 | .. | 191 | 66 | .. | 78 | .. | 32 | 1 2·45 Exeter | 35,370 | 383 | .. | .. | 70 | .. | 72 | .. | 34 | 1 2·1 Lichfield | 33,930 | 319 | 192 | 252 | 55 | .. | 66 | .. | 28 | 1 2 -------------+--------+---------+---------+---------+---------+--------+-------+--------+---------+-------------