Part 13

The massive brick front, with its flanking towers, would have formed an excellent nucleus for his work; but his ardent spirit would not submit to such an expedient, and he at once took down the vast façade, and that before he had collected money for the new one. The consequence was that he had scarcely got his new work out of the ground before his funds were exhausted. His first builder turned out a rascal, and he had to discharge him; the stone he used was destroyed by the frost; and, mishap after mishap following his undertaking. The worthy man was led, as is so common with bad men of business, to bend his proud spirit to a paltry trick; and, as a means of raising the wind, he sent one of his monks about the country with a man whom he declared to have been raised from the dead by the agency of the relics of St. Amphibalus, and begged money on the strength of the miracle. But all would not do, and after ten years’ labour, during which the old historian tells us that all the funds he procured were merely like rivers flowing into the sea, which was no fuller for receiving them, he could not bring his work above the level of the masons’ shed; and, at length, giving it up in despair, contented himself with more humble undertakings.

He was succeeded by Abbot William De Trumpington, a man who united with the taste for building, inherent in the age, a more moderate ambition and greater aptitude for business. He resumed the suspended works, but moderated their costliness; and making all the details plainer, and giving up or postponing the flanking towers, he was not only enabled to complete the rest of the front, but also to carry on the new work a long way down the nave, and subsequently to make many other alterations.

Now, I beg you to go and examine these works, and, in doing so, to bear in mind their history. You will find--as the chronicler tells us--that just about the height of a mason’s shed, there is a sudden change in the work. Up to that height the details are very superior, and far richer than above. Below, we find traces of the artist; above, of the constructor and man of business, though not to the forgetting of art. Thus, round the piers below are bases for marble shafts; somewhat higher are the marks where their moulded bands have been broken off; but above, their capitals are wanting--

“For William’s shears had cut the bauble off.”

The three portals I alluded to in my last lecture are the work of the unfinancial artist;[51] the range of pillars, etc., down the nave, of the not inartistic man of business. Both are noble works. Trumpington’s works are bold and massive, and his details good, though simple; but for beauty of design we must award the palm to his less thrifty but more _spirituel_ predecessor: indeed, I know few works equal in design to what he commenced; and had he been able to carry it out, this façade might have vied with that of Wells. Unhappily there are, externally, little remains of the work of either of the abbots.

Late in the century the choir, also, was in great measure rebuilt. Its character is less forcible than the earlier works, yet exceedingly beautiful.

The eastern chapels--which opened by five arches into the church--were at the same time commenced, but only in part carried out, the Lady Chapel having been stopped short after rising a few feet from the ground, and the chapels which opened from the choir having suffered considerable alterations from their first design. They are now virtually in ruins, but their details are of exquisite beauty. The windows have tracery of very high merit, and the wall arcading--now almost entirely destroyed--has been quite charming.

These works form a continuous series, from the last days of the twelfth to the end of the thirteenth century, and are admirable illustrations of the architecture of this great period.

I will dip seven years into the succeeding century to mention the exquisite fragments of the substructure which carried the shrine of the protomartyr. They have recently been exhumed in opening a walled-up arch. They are of Purbeck marble, and, in spite of the stubborn material, are most wonderfully carved, the leaves being so much undercut as in places to be quite detached.[52]

This venerable church possesses claims upon the student residing in London second only to those of our own Abbey of Westminster. I recommend it to your special and diligent study, and you will, I am sure, never blame me for my advice.[53]

On some of your visits there, pray go on to Dunstable, where you will find a noble priory church, in the later Norman style, whose western portal was probably in its day the finest in the kingdom; but owing to the friable clunch of which it was constructed, has lost the greater part of its decorations. The west front contains excellent work of the thirteenth century. It is a great architectural enigma, which I believe I have solved, but I will not spoil it for you by explaining my conjectures.

I begin to see, however, that I have embarked on an endless task, and have got half through my time without getting through the home district. I will therefore leave it, with a request that you will not consider Stone Church, near Gravesend, the worse for having become somewhat hackneyed. It is a mutilated work, but what remains of it is as exquisite an example of a period about agreeing with that of Westminster Abbey as can, perhaps, anywhere be found.

As I cannot pretend to give you a complete architectural itinerary, I will imagine--not seeing my way to a better--a northern tour in search of works of the age I have been treating of; and giving a passing look at Waltham Cross, in which I once delighted, though now, I confess, its so-called restoration has rather damped my enthusiasm, and hastily looking in at Jesus Chapel at Cambridge, a very excellent specimen of Early English, let us proceed to Ely. I have repeatedly alluded to the two great works in our style which it contains: the western porch, built between 1197 and 1214, is by far the noblest in this country. It is peculiar in its size and position, more of a narthex, perhaps, than a porch, or rather the western arm of the cross formed by the western transept. Externally, it is covered with decorative arcading in four ranges. It is of two storeys, the upper one having formed a spacious chamber. The angle buttresses are of that beautiful kind which are almost peculiar to this period, being of the form of clustered pillars.

The two portals--the outer and the inner--are, in their leading forms, alike; they are double, and of very lofty proportions. Their heads were formerly filled with the Vescica Piscis, possibly containing sitting statues; but this--why, it is impossible to divine--was taken out in both instances, and a wretched piece of flowing tracery, in plaster, substituted by Bernasconi, to the no small detriment of the doorways.

The inner doorway is an exquisite work of art, the mouldings being most beautifully foliated. The sides of the porch are arcaded in two stages in a most beautiful and artistic manner, and probably contained sculpture. The capitals are among the finest to be found in any English building. The porch measures internally 40 feet by 30 feet.

The other great work of this century, at Ely, consists of the six eastern bays, with the eastern front. They were commenced by Bishop Northwold in 1235, and completed in 1251.

It forms one of the finest specimens of the Early English style. The noble development of its triforium is an inheritance from the Norman church, with whose levels it was made to range. The liberal use of Purbeck marble adds vastly to the beauty of the work: the pillars are entirely of this material, including even their richly foliated capitals, as are the long and elaborately carved corbels which carry the vaulting shafts.

The carrying out of the whole--its proportions, its details, its mouldings, the massive strength of its construction, united with just a sufficient degree of lightness, the great elegance of its vaulting, and the grandeur of its eastern façade--render it one of the most valuable objects of study which we possess. The tomb of its founder is a wonderful work of art--a canopied effigy surrounded by statuettes, angels, and even subjects, all in a single block of Purbeck marble.

There are other works of our period at Ely, and fine ones; but we must not linger there, but proceed onward to Peterborough.

If the three great arches which form the west front here are to be viewed as portals, I was certainly wrong when I said that English portals were small and inconspicuous. These are, in fact, of such vast elevation as to deprive them of that title. The whole may be viewed as a vast portico, it is true, but the doorways are within it, and of moderate dimensions, while above them, and still below the arches, are considerable windows. It is, in fact, a design which stands quite by itself, and can scarcely be judged of by ordinary parallels.

I confess that to my eye it has always appeared as a glorious conception, though one not often to be repeated. Had its flanking towers been completed in the same style, the two great towers which backed it up completed with their spires, and the odd little chapel which has been thrust into its central arch been omitted, I know few fronts to which it would yield in grandeur, and none in originality.

Peterborough once possessed a noble work, in the latter part of the century, in its Lady Chapel, but only a few fragments remain. Its mutilated cloister, the gateway to the bishop’s palace, and the ruins of the infirmary, are beautiful works of this period. I know few cathedrals which, externally, I more enjoy than Peterborough. In old coaching days I used often to pass through at between four and five in the morning, and if daylight permitted, I made it a point of conscience to run round the cathedral while the mail bags were in course of arrangement; and never will the impression it produced on my mind be effaced.

We come here into a country replete with village churches, many of which are in our style. Warmington, for instance, between here and Oundle, is an almost perfect thirteenth-century church, and I only mention it as one specimen, for time would fail me to enter upon even an enumeration. Off to the northeast, too, there is West Walton, with its splendid and unique detached tower--an almost unequalled example; and nearer at hand are the mournful and tottering relics of the sister Abbey of Crowland, the details of whose Western front are hardly to be surpassed, and are the more interesting as having been evidently the work of the architect to the eastern part of Lincoln Cathedral. Even the stone is from Lincoln, though it is a material not used in the district.

As you go from Peterborough to Lincoln, whichever road you take, there are endless series of village churches, as well as others of greater pretensions. Stamford is rich in work of this age, but I will only allude to the churches of St. Mary and All Saints. Close by is the beautiful Early English tower of Ketton. Grantham possesses the most stately steeple (next only to Salisbury) in the kingdom; and on another road I may mention Frampton, as having the most perfect of all simple Early towers and spires that I know. But let us hasten on to the crowning glory of the district, whose lordly towers preside in serene majesty over the whole surrounding country.

No English cathedral is, externally, so imposing as that of Lincoln, nor do I recollect any abroad which, as a whole, surpasses it; and nearly the whole of its sublime architecture belongs virtually to this century, though in actual date it begins a few years earlier, and ends a few years later.

It is the custom to speak of Salisbury as the great typical example of the Early English style, and its unity and completeness may warrant the claim; but both for the grandeur of the whole and the artistic beauty of every part, and also as a complete exponent of English architecture throughout the whole duration of its greatest period, Lincoln far surpasses it. Its leading features form a perfect illustration, and that on the grandest scale, of the entire history of our architecture, from the last years of the twelfth to the early part of the fourteenth century.

As I have so often mentioned, the Pointed style commences here with the choir, the smaller transept, and perhaps the chapter-house,[54] all of which seem to have been erected before the year 1200 by Bishop Hugh. It is commonly stated that his architect was a Frenchman from Blois; and M. Lassus broadly states that he reproduced at Lincoln, in 1188, the design of a church commenced at Blois in 1138. I am not able to speak as to the authorities on which these statements are founded, but I must say that the internal evidence afforded by the building itself gives it, so far as I can judge, little or no support. In the first place, an eastern transept, in addition to that at the main crossing, is much more frequent in England than in France; whether the cathedral of Blois (now destroyed) possessed this I do not know. In the second place, the polygonal chapter-house is an equally English feature. In the third place, one of the most remarkable characteristics of this work is the nearly universal use of the round abacus--that distinctively English detail--and that at a period somewhat earlier than that of its customary predominance. The general distribution of the parts seems to me rather English than French, and though the work displays some idiosyncrasies, I do not see in them anything to indicate a French origin, unless it be in the capitals of the main pillars; indeed, it is a work in which distinctively English characteristics appear in a somewhat advanced state of development. As to its being a reproduction of a work commenced at Blois in 1138, the assertion carries with it its own refutation; for, in an age of restless progress, is it likely they would take the trouble to bring over a foreign architect of so retrograde a taste as to ignore the artistic progress made in his own country during half a century? In fact, the wonder of the work is being so much in _advance_ of its age, and that advance is not in a French but an English direction. The Church of St. Nicholas, at Blois, is in the Early Pointed style of the latter half of the twelfth century, but bears not the least resemblance to this; it is of the same character which is usual in French transitional works, and its carving is strictly Byzantine, not a trace of which have I observed in Bishop Hugh’s work. If, then, a French architect was engaged here, he must not only have made over the details of his work wholly to Englishmen, but have studiously followed English forms in the general features.[55]

The rebuilding of the cathedral seems to have been followed on systematically westward by the two successors of Bishop Hugh, till the completion of the nave by Bishop Grostete, about 1240.

The nave is by far the finest portion of the work as then completed, and is, probably, on the whole, the grandest example of the Early Pointed style in this country. It exhibits our Early English style in its highest state of development: massive without heaviness, rich in detail without exuberance, its parts symmetrically proportioned and carefully studied throughout, the foliated carving bold and effective, there seems no deficiency in any way to deteriorate from its merits.

The west end is unique, being a vast and almost unperforated wall covered over with range upon range of decorative arcading, flanked by two vast stair turrets, and backed by two noble towers, the completion of which was, however, delayed till a much later period. It always strikes me as a very impressive front, but I find that it does not strike all eyes so favourably. I would call attention to the beautiful chapels to the right and left on entering from the west, with their light and elegant columns contrasting most agreeably with the massive piers of the nave; also to the noble rose window in the north transept, perhaps the finest in England (Fig. 120).

The most gorgeous part, however, of the cathedral is its eastern portion. This was added between the years 1256 and 1282, and is consequently a little later than Henry III.’s work at Westminster. It agrees with it in style, but carries out the principle of window tracery on a far grander scale. It is, in fact, the most splendid work of that period which we possess, and, did it not lack internal height, I do not think it could be exceeded in beauty by any existing church.

The sculpture with which it was once profusely enriched was of a very high order, the foliated carving perfectly exquisite, the mouldings and other details of the most perfect character. The east window is probably the finest in the kingdom, as is the east front in general, after allowing a certain abatement for the error of having false gables to the aisles.

I have already mentioned the exquisite portal, the sculpture in which is superb (Fig. 122).

The student of Mediæval art ought to make a long sojourn at Lincoln, and study its treasury of art at his leisure; not forgetting, by the by, the beautiful remains

of the chapel to the bishop’s palace hard by the cathedral.

In passing northward from Lincoln, a profitable digression may be had to Southwell, whose noble choir seems to be an emanation from Lincoln, and its far-famed chapter-house from York; and to Newstead, whose beautiful west front and lovely carving agrees in style with the eastern portion of Lincoln.

Yorkshire is especially the land of minsters and abbey churches. To attempt here a description of them would be vain; a Yorkshire tour is one of the richest treats the student can look forward to, and one to which he ought to be liberal in his allowance of time. At York itself the transept is among the finest examples of the earlier part of the style, and the ruins of St. Mary’s Abbey of its later portion. I know few works so enchanting as the latter. It agrees in date with the east part of Lincoln, and is not unlike it in detail. It is a mere wreck, but worthy of the closest study, and the shattered fragments which lie on every side offer melancholy facilities to the student. The chapter-house of the cathedral is a little later, and has been well called a “Domus Domorum,” though I would not willingly admit its superiority to those of Westminster or Salisbury.

The neighbouring village church at Skelton--said to have been built by the same hands as the transept of the cathedral, and the ruined chapel of St. Leonard’s Hospital in the gardens round the abbey--show how unerringly the same style fitted itself to works of the most stupendous or of the humblest scale.

This great county is filled with the noble productions of the thirteenth century. The minsters of Beverley and Ripon owe much of their beauty to it; and scarcely one of the abbey churches, whose lovely but mournful ruins add a charm so melancholy to the secluded valleys of Yorkshire, fails to show the work of the great period.

I cannot attempt even a cursory description. Go, I pray you, and study for yourselves: go to Fountains Abbey, and study well its choir and eastern chapels, with their massive pillars, the tallest perhaps in England, and the remains of its wonderful abbatial hall, exposed to view by the recent excavations, and its many other wonders; but do not be satisfied with a passing visit: take up your quarters at Ripon, and follow up your studies from day to day. A week is but a short allowance for so rich a school of art. Then go to Rivaulx and Whitby, twin works, it would seem, of the same accomplished architect. I cannot award the palm to either--they are truly a “_par nobile fratrum_,” and it is fair to prefer whichever of them we have seen the last. Their great point of difference is that the choir of one has been vaulted, and that of the other has shown its timber roof; but in glorious architecture they are equal, and almost unequalled. As you go from York to Whitby you pass a small fragment of the Abbey of Kirkham: stop and look at it: small as it is, it is one of the best designed pieces of work I ever saw. If from Whitby you cross the moors to Guisborough, you will see what was probably the work of the very end of the century--the stupendous east end of that abbey, with its east window exceeding even that at Lincoln in height.

If you go on to Durham, the Chapel of the Nine Altars will rivet your attention;[56] and farther yet at Hexham,[57] at Dryburgh, and far on through Scotland, to the Chapel of Holyrood, and the glorious remains of Elgin Cathedral, and that noble temple yet preserved unruined at Glasgow, you will find a long series of the art of this wonderful age.

In returning, pray look in at Furness Abbey, where you will find an absolute gem of our style in the ruined chapter-house.[58] It has been of the same construction with the Temple Church, and of exquisite beauty.

I have passed over the whole series of southern examples--as Hythe, Shoreham, Winchester, Boxgrove, Wells, Llandaff (one of its most original productions), Worcester, Lichfield, Hereford, and a hundred more examples, all of which supply proofs of the wonderful perfection of the architecture of this century.

But a mere catalogue is both useless and wearisome.

I ought also to have called special attention to the circumstance, that while in France nearly every great church is vaulted, such is not the case in English works: they seem to have acted with perfect freedom in this respect, and their churches, even the largest of them, have frequently had open timber roofs, and suffer little by the variety.

One thing cannot fail to strike every one who closely studies our old architecture. In early Norman buildings we often find rude and clumsy workmanship; in works from the middle of the fourteenth century, on to the extinction of Gothic architecture, we frequently meet with the same--the work of rude, untutored hands, evidently unable to do justice to their style; but from about 1175 to the end of the thirteenth century, and nearly fifty years later, we scarcely ever meet with this inequality. The art seemed to be all-pervading. Certain buildings may have been plain to a degree, and rustic in their object and material, yet you rarely find anything you can call rude in workmanship or unskilful in treatment. It was a great period, and its greatness seemed to pervade even the most secluded districts, and the workmen everywhere to have felt a pride in keeping up to the period of their art in which their lot had been cast. Nor need we wonder at this, for _everywhere_ were buildings going on; scarcely a village church escaped the notice of the builders of this wonderful age. The whole country was engaged in the one work of building, and that with an ardent feeling to render their work worthy of the style they had generated.

And let us not imagine that the architecture of the age developed itself only in cathedrals, abbeys, or churches of any kind; all other buildings evince the same spirit: a barn of the thirteenth century shows the nobleness of the pervading style as clearly as even the cathedral itself, and what remains of their domestic architecture tells the same tale. Everything was done _well_, in good taste, and in accordance with reasonable and practical requirements and the means at command.