External Proportions.

824. The Five Sisters Window, York. (From Britton.)

So, at least, the English architects of the 13th century seem to have thought, for they continued to practise their lancet style, as in themuch-quoted example of Salisbury Cathedral, long after the French had perfected the geometric forms; which may be seen from the contemporary cathedral in Amiens. In France, as was pointed out in a previous chapter (p.163et seq.), we can trace every step by which the geometric forms were invented. In England this cannot be done, and when we do find a rudimentary combination of two lancets with a circle, it is more frequently a harking back to previous forms than stepping forwards toward a new invention.

825. Ely Cathedral, East End. (Cath. Hb.)

26. Lancet Window, Hereford Cathedral. (Cath. Hb.)

When, however, painted glass became an indispensable part ofchurch decoration, it was impossible to resist the influence of the French invention. Like many other Continental forms it seems first to have been systematically employed at Westminster, when the choir was rebuilt by Henry III.,A.D.1245-69, but even then it was used timidly and unscientifically as compared with the Sainte Chapelle at Paris, which was commenced 1244, and completed long before the English choir. Once, however, it was fairly introduced, the English architects employed it with great success. One of the earliest examples is the beautiful circular window of the north transept at Lincoln. It, however, is still of the imperfect tracery of the early French examples. The lines do not in all instances follow one another, and flat plain spaces are left, as in what is generally called plate tracery. True geometric tracery is, however, seen in perfection in the Angel Choir at Lincoln (1270-1282), in the nave of (York 1291-1330), or better, in such abbeys as Tintern or Gainsborough. In the chapter-house at York (WoodcutNo.829) the style had already begun to deviate from the French pattern, and before the end of the 13th century the English had so thoroughly assimilated it that hardly a trace of its original form was left. The chapel at Merton College, Oxford, is perhaps the most beautiful example remaining of that exquisite form of English tracery; but St. Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster, was the typical example, and specimens of it are found in all our cathedrals. One at St. Anselm’s Chapel at Canterbury (Woodcut No.830) is perhaps as characteristic as any. When tracery had reached this stage, it seemed capable of any amount of development, and was applicable to any form of opening. All the difficulties of fitting circles into spherical triangles which had so puzzled the early builders were conquered,[106]and the range of design seemed unlimited. But during the Edwardian period there prevailed a restless desire for new inventions, and an amount of intellectualactivity applied to architecture which nothing could resist; so that these beautiful geometric forms in their turn were forced to give way after being employed for little more than half a century, and were superseded by the fashion of flowing tracery, which lasted, however, for even a shorter period than the style which preceded it. This time the invention seems to have been English; for though we cannot feel quite certain when the first specimen of flowing tracery was introduced in France, the Flamboyant style was adopted by the French only after the English wars, whereas the Perpendicular style had superseded this and all other Decorated forms in England before the death of Edward III.

827. East End of Lincoln Cathedral. (From Wild’s ‘Lincoln.’)

828. North Transept Window, Lincoln Cathedral. (Cath. Hb.)

During the time that flowing forms were used in England they gave rise to some of the most beautiful creations in window tracery that are anywhere to be found. The east windows at Carlisle (Woodcut No.831) and of Selby, are two of the finest examples, and illustrate the peculiarity of the style as adopted in this country. Though the forms are flowing, and consequently, as lithic forms, weak, the parts are so exquisitely balanced by the stronger ribs introduced and by thearrangement of the whole, that, so far from any weakness being felt, the whole is quite as stable as the purposes to which it is applied would seem to require. Another equally constructive and equally beautiful example is the south transept window at Lincoln (Woodcut No.832), where the segmental lines introduced give the strength required. Though almost all its lines are flowing, it looks stronger and more constructively correct than the north transept window (Woodcut No.828), which is wholly made up of circular forms, and is in itself one of the best examples of the earlier form of English geometric tracery. Circular windows were not, however, the forte ofEnglish architects; they very rarely used them in their west fronts, not always in their transepts, and generally indeed may be said to have preferred the ordinary pointed forms, in which, as in most matters, they probably exercised a wise discretion.

829. Window in Chapter-house at York.English Geometric Tracery.

829. Window in Chapter-house at York.

English Geometric Tracery.

830. Window in St. Anselm’s Chapel, Canterbury.

831. East Window, Carlisle Cathedral. (From a Drawing by R. W. Billings.)

832. South Transept Window, Lincoln Cathedral. (Cath. Hb.)

It may not be quite clear whether William of Wykeham (1366-1404) invented perpendicular tracery, but certain it is that the admiration excited by his works in this style at Winchester, Oxford, and elsewhere, gave a death-blow to the Decorated forms previously in fashion. Although every lover of true art must regret the change, there wasa great deal to be said in favour of the new style. It was pre-eminently constructive and reasonable. Nothing in a masonic point of view could be better than the straight lines running through from bottom to top of the window, strengthened by transoms when requisite for support, and doubled in the upper division. The ornaments, too, were all appropriate, and, externally at least, the whole harmonised perfectly with the lines of the building. Internally, the architects were more studious to prepare forms suitable by their dimensions and arrangements for the display of painted glass, than to spend much thought on the form of the frames themselves. The poetry of tracery was gone, but it was not only in this respect that we miss the poetic feeling of earlier days. The mason was gradually taking the guidance of the work out of the hands of the educated classes, and applying the square and the rule to replace the poetic inspirations of enthusiasts and the delicate imaginings by which they were expressed.

833. Perpendicular Tracery, Winchester Cathedral.

It is curious to observe how different the course of events was in France. While Saxon common sense was gradually coming to the surface in this country and curbing every fancy for which a good economic reason could not be given, the Celtic fancy of our neighbours broke loose in all the playful vagaries of the Flamboyant style. Their tracery became so delicate and so unconstructive that it is a wonder it ever stood, and no wonder that half the windows of that date are now without tracery at all. They were carved, too, with foliage so delicate that it ought to have been executed in metal and never attempted in stone—in wonderful contrast to the plain deep mouldings which surround most of our windows of that period.

If the sobriety of proportion which characterised the design of English architects led to satisfactory results internally, its influence was still more favourable on the external appearance of their churches. An English cathedral is always a part of a group of buildings—the most important and most dignified part, it is true, but always coinciding and harmonising with its chapter-house, its cloister andconventual buildings, its bishop’s palace or abbot’s lodging. In France the cathedral is generally like a giant among pigmies—nothing can exist in its neighbourhood. The town itself is dwarfed by the immense incubus that stands in its centre, and in almost no instance can the subordinate buildings be said to form part of the same design[107]—both consequently suffering from their quasi-accidental juxtaposition.

This effect is even more apparent when we come to examine the sky-line of the buildings. Their moderate internal dimensions enabled the English architects to keep the roofs low, so as to give full effect to the height of the towers, and to project their transepts so boldly as to vary in perspective the long lines of the roofs from whatever point the building was viewed. Their greatest gain, however, was that they were able to place their tallest and most important feature in the centre of their buildings, and so to give a unity and harmony to the whole design which is generally wanting in Continental examples. One of the few cases in which this feature is successfully carried out in France is the church of St. Sernin at Toulouse (Woodcut No.578), but there the body of the building is low and long like the English type, and a tower of the same height as those of the façade at Amiens suffices to give dignity to the whole. That church, however, wants the western towers to complete the composition. In this respect it is the reverse of what generally happens in French cathedrals, where the western façades are rich and beautifully proportioned in themselves, but too often overpowered by the building in the rear, and unsupported by any central object. In Germany they took their revenge, and in many instances kill the building to which they are attached. In England the group of three towers or spires—the typical arrangement of our architects—was always pleasing, and very frequently surpasses in grace and appropriateness anything to be found on the Continent. Even when, as at Norwich or at Chichester, the spire is unsupported by any western towers, the same effect of dignity is produced as at Toulouse; the design is pyramidal, and from whatever point it is viewed it is felt to be well balanced, which is seldom the case when the greatest elevation is at one end.

The cathedral at Salisbury (Woodcut No.834), though, like the two last named, it has no western towers, still possesses so noble a spire in the centre, and two transepts so boldly projecting, that when viewed from any point east of the great transept it displays one of the best proportioned and at the same time most poetic designs of the Middle Ages. It is quite true that the spire is an afterthought of the 14th century, and that those who added it ought to have completed the design by erecting also two western towers, but, like St. Sernin’s, it iscomplete as it is, and very beautiful. The flêche at Amiens is 20 ft. higher than the spire at Salisbury, being 424 ft. as against 404 ft. Yet the Salisbury spire is among the most imposing objects of which Gothic architecture can boast, the other an insignificant pinnacle that hardly suffices to relieve the monotony of the roof on which it is placed.

834. Salisbury Cathedral, from the N.E.

Lichfield (Woodcut No.835), though one of the smallest of English cathedrals, is one of the most pleasing from having all its three spires complete, and in the proportion originally designed for the building and for each other. The height of the nave internally is only 58 ft., and of the roof externally only 80 ft.; yet with these diminutivedimensions great dignity is obtained and great beauty of composition, certainly at less than one-fourth the expenditure in materials and moyen it would have cost to produce a like effect among the tall heavy-roofed cathedrals of the Continent.

835. View of Lichfield Cathedral. (From Britton’s ‘Cathedral Antiquities.’)

Had the octagon at Ely been completed externally,[108]even in wood, it would probably have been superior to the spire at Salisbury both in height and design. As before mentioned, it was left with only atemporary lantern externally, and, as was always the case in England, no drawing—no written specifications of the designer have been left. The masons on the Continent were careful to preserve the drawings of unfinished parts of the designs. The gentlemen architects of England seem to have trusted to inspiration to enable them to mould their forms into beauty as they proceeded. With true Gothic feeling they believed in progress, and it never occurred to them but that their successors would surpass them in their art, in the manner they felt they were excelling those who preceded them.

836. Lincoln Cathedral.

The three-towered cathedrals are not less beautiful and characteristic of England than those with three spires. Nothing can exceed the beauty of the outline of Lincoln[109]as it stands on its cliff looking over the Fens (Woodcut No.836); though the erection of a screen in front of the western towers cuts them off from the ground, and so far mars their effect when seen close at hand. York perhaps possesses the best façade of the class in England, both as regards proportion and detail. The height of the towers to the top of the pinnacles is undertwo hundred feet (196), but this is quite sufficient for the nave they terminate, or the central tower with which they group. At Amiens the western towers are respectively 224 and 205 ft. in height, but they are utterly lost under the roof of the cathedral, and fail to give any dignity to the design.

837. View of the Angel Tower and Chapter-house, Canterbury. (Cath. Hb.)

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 highesttower 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.

838. West Front of Peterborough Cathedral. (From Britton’s ‘Picturesque Antiquities.’)

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 muchmore 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.

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 istolerably 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.

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.

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 theassembly-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.

839. Chapter-House, Bristol. (Cath. Hb.)

840. Chapter-House, Salisbury. (Cath. Hb.)

In consequence of this, we find in England chapter-houses attached to cathedrals even in early Norman times. These were generally rectangularrooms, 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-houseever 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.

841. Chapter-House, Wells. (Cath. Hb.)

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.

842. Chapter-House, York. (Cath. Hb.)

But, having once got rid of the central pillar, which was the great defect of their construction as halls of assembly, they would hardly havereverted 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.”

“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]

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 isperhaps 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.

843. Internal Elevation in St. Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster.

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 thespringing 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.

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

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

846. Interior View of King’s College Chapel, Cambridge.

We have an excellent means of ascertaining how far St. Stephen’s Chapel would have been damaged by a vaulted roof, by comparing itwith 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 glassthis 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.

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 greatpride in their churches, and those then erected are consequently more numerous as well as more ornamental than at any other time.

847. Plan of Circular Church at Little Maplestead. Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.

848. Spire of Great Leighs Church, Essex.

849. Tower of Little Saxham Church, Suffolk.

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 page331, Läderbro Church (Woodcut No.795) was pointed out as an example of a circular nave attenuatedinto 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.

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