George Edmund Street: Unpublished Notes and Reprinted Papers

by George Edmund Street

I

A short holiday among French churches has left so many pleasant recollections of new ideas received, new thoughts suggested, ancient memories revived afresh, that it is as impossible as it would be churlish to refuse to communicate some notes of what I have seen; and as they are asked for I proceed to give them, though they must be more slight and generalizing than I could wish; for I have a very profound conviction of the great grandeur of ancient French art, and a corresponding sense of the danger of so treating it as to convey too small a sense of its value to those who have not studied it for themselves, or of offending those who are so happy as to have realized that value to the fullest extent and from actual inspection of its remains. It is needless to say that as the France of the present day is an agglomeration of ancient and distinct provinces, so also in its ancient buildings we can trace, without any difficulty, a variety of different national or provincial styles: it would be strange indeed were it not so. Even in England we have most striking varieties in style confined, generally, within the boundaries of particular dioceses; so that to understand ancient art aright, it is necessary to have an exact acquaintance with the third-pointed work of Devonshire and Cornwall as well as that of Norfolk and Suffolk, and to be able to perceive all the difference between the first-pointed work of the Yorkshire abbeys and that of Wells and Salisbury.

And if we have such marked differences in a country like this, we may well expect a much greater variety in a country which, like France in the Middle Ages, was not as now one great nation but divided into sections antagonistic to each other and exercising little if any reciprocal influence. It is easy, therefore, to map our France into certain divisions, each containing within its boundaries a special individual style of Gothic architecture, distinguished by notable peculiarities, and each affording a separate field for very careful study. Thus we have in the north of France distinct French styles, in, first, Normandy, and secondly, the old Île de France and the surrounding country, and thirdly, in the country bordering on Germany, a style which is rather German than French in all its leading features. Then going southward, we have, fourthly, a distinct Burgundian style, and another, marked by extreme peculiarities, in Poitou and Anjou, and (judging only by drawings, for I have never myself visited the extreme south of France), again other styles, whose centres are respectively at Clermont and at Arles. Of these various styles that of Normandy presents a very great affinity to our own. It is there, and almost only there, that we see the circular abacus, there only that we see much attempted in the way of deep and complicated architectural mouldings, whilst the general effect of many—especially among the larger churches—is extremely English. The likeness is one of which we may well be proud, for the architecture of this province is full of beauty and interest to a degree second only to that of the district of the old Île de France. Its very deficiencies, too, are English in their character, for in going from Paris into the heart of Normandy, the one thing which we notice more perhaps than anything else, is the general absence of the figure sculpture to which we have become accustomed; and this is the case also in England, where we have really hardly any at all extensive remains of sculpture, and certainly none which can be named with those whose pride it is to be the guardians of such churches as the cathedrals of Chartres, Paris, Amiens, Laon, or Rheims.[13] The study of the architecture of Normandy is therefore the proper and natural sequel of a complete and careful study of English architecture, and may be entered on with the less hesitation as I believe I may safely venture to say, that what is learned there will be in no sense foreign either to the precedents or the sympathies of England.

The churches of Anjou, Poitou, and Touraine, appear to me to be of much less value for architectural study: though from the connection which was maintained between our own country and those parts of France during a long period of the Middle Ages, it is impossible but they should present much that is of the greatest interest to the English student. I have looked, however, in vain for evidence, either in the general design or in the details of their architecture, of any influence exercised by the English upon their art. In fact, when we held the country, we held it as conquerors not as colonists, and we left no mark of ourselves, but let the people go on building for us and for themselves in their own way. And their way was full of peculiarity, perhaps more so than that of any other part of France. They had their own system of planning, their own system of groining: and this, it should be remarked, is sure, if it has any peculiarity, to exercise a most powerful and obvious effect upon the whole architecture. There is, however, a heaviness, a repetition of the same idea, and an absence of delicate skill, as well as of bold architectural inspiration, which to my mind marks all the buildings in these parts inferior, not only to the best French work, but also to that of Normandy and of England. And now I go on naturally to say that I believe the best work in France is that which I described shortly as that of the old Île de France and the surrounding country; it is that which I have studied the most carefully, and love the most of any architecture that I know; it is one which presents no features unsuitable for our country, or inconsistent with the demands of our climate; it is one from the study of which I believe we should all derive an immense benefit, for it were wellnigh impossible to spend much time among the works of art which it so bountifully affords without being strongly impressed with the stern grandeur and masculine character of the men who conceived it, and without being elevated in our whole tone of mind so far as we have been impressed. A district which affords examples such as Rouen cathedral, S. Quentin, Amiens, Noyon, Laon, Soissons, Meaux, Rheims, Troyes, Chartres, Notre Dame of Paris, Mantes, S. Leu, S. Germer, Senlis, Beauvais, and others, must be conceded to be, if not the best, certainly the richest field for the study of our art in all Europe; and it is mainly to this district that I will take you, with this expression of my extreme veneration for the art enshrined in its architectural remains.[14] ...

At Beuzeville, where the Fécamp branch joins the main line of railway to Rouen, it is worth while to walk a mile and a half to the church, not because it is a fine building, but rather because it illustrates well enough the differences between French and English ideas about village churches. The unbroken nave, thirty-three feet wide and sixty-nine feet in length, with its arched boarded roof,—the central groined tower with a spire springing some four or five feet below the ridge of the nave roof,—and the hipped vestry roof, are all unlike English work, yet the whole effect is particularly good notwithstanding the poverty of style, which is late flamboyant. There are four rows of fixed seats all down the nave—modern, of course.

From Beuzeville to Rouen the railway took me over ground well known to the majority of English travellers, and I would not say a word about Rouen, were it not that the strong popular delusion which has elevated the church of S. Ouen into its great attraction deserves to be protested against always. And, this, not because the church is not very fine and very pretty—it is both—but because S. Ouen-worship leads people to miss altogether, or only to half see and understand the extreme value and beauty of the cathedral. I have seen this often, and I find that, unlike some other churches, each time I see it I discern new beauties and new value in its art; and it lies so near to us, and teaches us so much not to be learnt in England, and yet of the utmost value to all of us, that I do not know how to express myself sufficiently strongly as to the advantage of a careful study of it to all workers in the revival. Indeed I think that the Architectural Museum could perhaps do more for art by helping young carvers to go for a time to Rouen for study, than by adding to their collection a multitude of casts which are often of necessity of doubtful excellence. The thing may be difficult to accomplish, but it ought to be done, for this one cathedral contains such an abundance and variety of sculpture as would almost put to the blush all our churches combined. The western doors of the north and south aisles are, to my taste, the most exquisite portions of the church. Their style is so early, and so immediate a deduction from Byzantine or Romanesque work that I can fancy a man, who had been taught to believe in the absolute perfection of our English fourteenth-century style, would be long before he appreciated to the full their perfection. They are moreover of a kind of work which is as rare as it is excellent. In England we have nothing, to the best of my belief, of similar style. I remember that Mr. Scott once suggested to me the probability that they were executed by the same man who executed the doorways in the west front of Genoa cathedral, and the suggestion evidenced fully his sense of the extreme rarity of the work. I believe, however, that they are examples of a style which was not that of an individual only. That it owed much to Italy I have little doubt: for even if there had been no trace of an Italian influence in the extreme delicacy of the whole of the sculpture, in the twining foliage of the door jambs, and the very singular and graceful foliage of the archivolts, yet it might, I think, have been detected indirectly. For in this same church, in the aisle round the apse, there still remains a monument of an Archbishop Maurice, the Italianizing character of which is most marked, and at the same time its details show that it is a work of precisely the same school as the western aisle-doorways. None who have been in Italy can forget the almost invariable type of the finer early monuments—a simple arch, surmounted immediately by a gable of very flat pitch, and supported on detached shafts. They will remember them at Verona often, in Venice, in Genoa, in Perugia, and indeed in all directions and of all dates; well, in this monument, we have the same thing, a round arch exquisitely adorned with angels (whereof two in the centre bear up the soul of the archbishop) and immediately above the arch a very flat pediment or gable. Perhaps, too, it is an Italian influence, which is evidenced in another respect in the decorations of the western doors. The alternate orders of the arch are simply chamfered, presenting in section three sides of an octagon, and these are covered with regular sunk patterns of the simplest kind, but marvellously effective. Go from Rouen to Genoa and you find the western doorways executed in marble, every plain surface in which is inlaid with geometrical patterns,—light patterns on dark ground, and dark on light. The effect is very similar in the two places: at Genoa the very best materials were to be had: and at Rouen where nothing but common stone was used, the artist struck out a system which produced an effect all but equal to that obtained at Genoa. And yet with all this similarity I am not disposed to class these two buildings together as the work of one man. The architect of Genoa loved mouldings much more than did the architect of these doorways; and I think I have met with a sufficient number of traces of similar work to convince me that it was the style of a class, not of a man, and one of those many and glorious phases through which our art in her rapid progress passed. The western doors at Mantes are very similar in their detail; those of Chartres—what a study they are!—partake largely of the same spirit; in the western façade of Notre Dame, Paris, there are traces of it; in Notre Dame, Châlons-sur-Marne, the south doorway was identical in character, and fragments of work of the same style have been discovered in the course of lowering the floor of that church to its ancient level; and in S. Germer, in the chapter-house of S. Georges de Boscherville, in the western doorway of Angers cathedral, and in parts of S. Remi at Rheims, I think we see the same style more or less developed. Undoubtedly the work at Rouen is the most excellent of all, just as it occupies the central position in point of date.

I am not afraid to confess that the whole of these examples are largely Byzantine in their character; in my eyes this is a virtue, not a fault; for I believe that it is here perhaps more than anywhere else that we may succeed in developing from our forefathers’ work. There seems to be here a mine of untold wealth, the workings into which were no sooner commenced than they were abandoned: and the style seems to be one which affords special opportunity for meeting our great difficulty at the present day, as it indicates a mode of obtaining rich decorations without being dependent for effect entirely on a horde of slovenly carvers, who, without an idea in their heads, ruin all the rest of our work by their failure in its sculpture.

This is a digression, but the subject was tempting: I will only say further, as to these remains at Rouen, that they have the rare advantage of not having been restored, and that they are entirely covered in all parts with work of almost uniform excellence, though, to my taste, the north-west door (the tympanum of which contains the life of S. John the Baptist) is the finest. The effigy of Archbishop Maurice is singularly elaborated: the patterns on the vestments, the details of the censers, and indeed all parts, being finished with the elaboration of a genuine Pre-Raphaelite. Before modern sculptors sneer at these twelfth century works, I wish that they would themselves attempt to produce even one block of stone, a foot square, as well wrought, and I doubt not they would profit by the lesson, novel though it might be.

The western doors of the aisles are placed between large buttresses, and arches are thrown over them from buttress to buttress. Between the arches of the doors and these upper arches, a small space of plain wall remained, which has been treated in the most ingenious manner. Figures are marked in outline on the stone, which were, I think, painted, and the ground throughout is diapered with a very simple pattern sunk in the stone. Over the south-west doorway was the Last Judgement: and over the north-west, our Lord seated with angels and saints on either side. In the former our Lord is seated on a throne, between two candles: angels present souls to Him, other angels bear a soul in a sheet, and others again on the right drive the wicked into hell.

I must say little more about Rouen; but I ought not to forget to notice the fine and very varied treatment of the capitals throughout the nave, and the thoroughly Norman (and English) effect of the immense numbers of clustered shafts, of which all the piers are composed. The double division in height of the main arcade is not easily accounted for; but if it was owing to an alteration in the height of the building, while it was in progress, it is a happy instance to be added to many others, of the skill with which mediaeval architects seized upon difficulties as the best opportunities for achieving successes.

The ground-plan of this cathedral is, I think, altogether one of the best in France. In particular the chevet is of great beauty. The aisle round the apse, instead of being completely surrounded by chapels, has its alternate bays only so occupied, with great advantage in point of effect, both internally and externally. The arrangement is almost identical with that of the fine chevet of S. Omer cathedral, and appears to me to be a happy mean between the one chapel at the east end of Sens, and the cluster of chapels which crowd the apsidal ends of almost all the great churches in the north of France. Whilst in its plan it is more skilfully disposed than the somewhat similar chevet of Chartres, it is preferable to those of Mantes and Notre Dame, Paris, where there were no projecting apsidal chapels,[15] or Bourges, where they are so small as to produce no effect.

The north-west tower (that of S. Romain), should be ascended, if only to examine the framework of the roof and for the bells, and to note, among other things, the open wooden staircase in its upper stage. The view, too, of the city is finely seen; and I know few cities that reward more bountifully any trouble taken in the attempt to see them in this way. A city it is, indeed, of desecrated churches, but still a city whose situation on the noble river winding here under great chalk hills, and there along the edge of meadows green, flat and extensive, fringed with long perspective lines of poplars, is as beautiful and as happy as it can well be.

It is not a long walk from Rouen to S. Georges de Boscherville, and the view from the hill at Chanteleu is one of the best near Rouen. The church is but of slight interest, though its flamboyant tower, with a grand open western arch, forms a fine sort of porch, and indicates a variety which might sometimes be introduced among ourselves with advantage. S. Georges de Boscherville is too well known to require description but if others have formed the same conception of it that I had, they will thank me for saying that the chapter-house is an exquisite example of the earliest pointed work, full of delicate and beautiful detail. The three western arches are circular, but not Romanesque in their character; some of their capitals have foliage, some sculpture of figures, and the thickness of the wall is supported by a miniature sexpartite vault. The vaulting of the chapter-house is also sexpartite, with additional cells at the east and west end to accommodate similar triplets. As I have before said, there is much in the detail of parts of this building, which indicates the same school as the early-pointed work at Rouen. The chapter-house is a parallelogram, fifty-four feet in length by twenty-four feet nine inches in width, and groined in three bays. Some of the western entrance shafts are elaborately carved. The vault inside is coloured buff, and diapered with red lines in a small regular pattern all over.

Between Rouen and Mantes, a pause of a few hours at Pont de l’Arche enabled me to see the interesting remains of the abbey of Bonport. The refectory is nearly perfect, and there is a great deal of simple quadripartite vaulting remaining throughout the modern-looking farm-house. But of the church, the bases of one or two columns, and one respond alone remain, and these of an excellence of design which make it very much to be regretted that it should have been destroyed. The groined refectory, of five bays in length, is well worthy of a visit. The side windows are of two lancet lights, with a circle above, and at the north end is a window of four equal lancets, with small cusped openings above. The south end and entrance from the cloister are modernized. The pulpit staircase is perfect, and very ingeniously contrived; but the pulpit itself is destroyed. Among the buildings, which are of considerable extent, are some admirable examples of domestic windows; and, to conclude, the whole is of the very best early thirteenth-century style.

The church at Pont de l’Arche is one of those ambitious but very picturesque buildings, of which we have no counterpart. It is flamboyant in style, very lofty, and intended for groining throughout. This, however, was never completed, and there is a coved wooden ceiling in its place. A good deal of late stained glass, of very poor detail, exists in the windows, the subject of one of them being the Tree of Jesse.

Of the ancient bridge over the Seine, at Pont de l’Arche, not a vestige, I think, now remains.

The cathedral at Mantes is in many ways of much interest. Your readers are, no doubt, well acquainted with Notre Dame, Paris, and with the singular changes which have been effected in it from time to time. In Mantes, I believe they may see almost the same kind of conception, left with such slight alterations as do not in any way conceal the original design. It is therefore of special value.

I have already referred to the western doors. They are much mutilated, and the south-west door was replaced in the fourteenth century by an immense and conceited composition of a doorway with pediment and flanking pinnacles which is very damaging to the general effect of the façade. The remainder of the front is uniform first-pointed, with two steeples connected by an open screen as at Paris. The north-west tower has been already nearly rebuilt, and the south-west tower is now suffering from the same process, “suffering” I say, because I believe firmly that the original design is being annihilated. In both the belfry stage, which rises above the screen between the towers, is now much smaller than the stage below; nothing can look much worse than such a sudden diminution in size, and I am convinced that the original intention must have been (as at Laon) to continue the shafts and arcading which surround the lower stage up to the top. I made as careful an examination of the work as was possible, and have hardly a shadow of doubt that this was the case; but whether the authorities did not know the glorious steeples of Laon, or whether they have a view of their own as to what looks best, they are certainly making the upper part of this unfortunate west front look as modern in its outline and meagre in its character as it is new and fresh-looking in its colour. It were better that old work perished altogether, than that it should be scraped, re-chiselled, cleaned and modernized in this heartless manner!

The most noticeable feature of the interior is the treatment of the triforium of the eastern portion of the church. This is groined with a succession of transverse barrel-vaults, the effect of which is to give an immense addition of strength to the main walls. They spring from the capitals of a succession of detached shafts which are placed across the triforium, so that the perspective of its interior is singularly picturesque. It was not very long after the erection of the church that the western portion of the triforium was altered, a quadripartite vault being substituted for the barrel vaulting, and wherever this has been done, the thrust has been too great for the principal groining shafts, which have bulged considerably, and are now held in place by iron ties. In the apse, the bays being of necessity much wider on one side than on the other, the ridge of the barrel-vault rises rapidly towards the external wall: and the triforium is lighted by a succession of immense simple circular windows. The internal elevation of one bay of this cathedral is nearly identical with the original design of that of Paris, though simple and (I fancy) rather earlier in date; but from the shortness of the church and the absence of transepts (in which one point it reminds me of the fine church of S. Leu d’Esserent) it has both inside and outside the effect rather of a choir only than of a complete cathedral. There are various additions to the church of later date, which add much to its picturesque character, especially a chapel on the south side, the chapels round the apse, and the sacristies on the north side. The stone roof above the groining of one of these is remarkable. The arrangement of coloured tiles on the roof is one of the best I have seen. The pattern is rather complicated, and is formed with dark tiles (green and black used indiscriminately) on a ground of yellowish tiles.

The church from the apse to the western towers consists of but three bays of sexpartite vaulting, each bay covering two bays of the main arcades. Between the towers is one bay of quadripartite vaulting.

Walking from Mantes across the river to the suburb of Limay, a fine view is obtained of the town and cathedral, which shows here the whole picturesque exaggeration of height as compared with length which distinguishes it. Limay church boasts of nothing save a tower and spire on the south side, of late Romanesque character throughout. The surface of the spire is covered with scalloping, and has spire-lights and fine pinnacles at its base. Some attached shafts against the face of the belfry stage, which seem to serve no purpose, are curious as being probably the type from which some similarly placed shafts in the steeples of the cathedral were derived. Here too, as in the cathedral, a most effective form of label is used, the section of which is a square cut out into diamonds like unpierced dogteeth. We see the same thing in England, and among other examples there is a good one at Lanercost. Its effect is singularly bold and piquant.

A mile on the other side of Mantes is the little village of Gassiecourt, whose cross church is of much interest. The glass in the three chancel windows is fine, and of late thirteenth-century date. The east window of four lights with twenty-five subjects has been restored, and two of the subjects—the thirteenth and eighteenth—have been quite wrongly placed. The window represents the whole Passion of our Lord. The side windows of two lights contain large figures under canopies of the early part of the thirteenth century, in a sad state, but of very considerable value. The east window of the south transept has subjects from the lives of S. Laurence and another. The internal arrangement is remarkable; the fifteenth century stalls, with subsellae and returns, being placed in the two eastern bays of the nave, leaving three bays to the west. The old altar remains in the east wall of the north transept. The walls and roof of the south transept are covered with painting; on the roof are four angels with the instruments of the Passion, one in each division of the groining; the west wall has a painting of the Last Judgement, and the east large figures on each side of the east window; on the soffit of the arch into the tower are angels playing on musical instruments. The whole appears to have been painted in the fifteenth century, and, though of no great artistic merit, is of value in France, where, as in England, such things are very rare. A grand Romanesque west doorway, and a simple gabled central tower with a good belfry stage are the principal external features of this interesting village church.

Before I conclude, I must say a few words as to the evidence of popular feeling in regard to pointed architecture in France. It is partly, doubtless, owing to the fact that all the great churches are national property, and entirely sustained by the State, that we miss so entirely any of that evidence of personal and widely spread interest in them, which so honourably distinguishes most people in our own country. But descending to the second and inferior classes of churches, we find unfortunately the same apathy, the same neglect: so that a tour among French village churches would leave an impression on the mind of any Englishman that the clergy and laity are alike careless of their fate and ignorant of their value. One of the very few village churches which I have seen in process of restoration was being done by order of the Emperor, and by a rate imposed upon the commune, aided by an imperial grant; but there, as elsewhere, the repair was entirely confined to the fabric; and pews, pavements, altars,—all remain still in their old state, ugly, dirty, and uncared for. I must make honourable exception in favour of one large parish church, Notre Dame, Châlons-sur-Marne, where, with the greatest care and love for the building committed to his charge, the excellent curé is carrying on a restoration which appears to me to be by very far the best and most faithful that I have seen on the Continent. I have seen, I grieve to say, but little evidence of any practical love on the part of the people or the clergy for their glorious churches, but I will let M. Viollet-le-Duc—than whom who can be a better judge?—say what can be said as to the real impression which they produce:—

“Dépouillés aujourd’hui, mutilées par le temps et la main des hommes, méconnues pendant plusieurs siècles par les successeurs de ceux qui les avaient élevées, nos cathédrales apparaissent au milieu de nos villes populeuses, comme de grands cercueils; cependant elles inspirent toujours aux populations un sentiment de respect inaltérable; à certains jours de solemnités publiques, elles reprennent leur voix, une nouvelle jeunesse, et ceux mêmes qui répétaient, la veille, sous leurs voûtes, que ce sont là des monuments d’un autre âge sans signification aujourd’hui, sans raison d’exister, les trouvent belles encore dans leur vieillesse et leur pauvreté.”