Secular Buildings.
Very few remains of secular buildings in the early Christian style are now to be found in Italy. The palace of Theodoric at Ravenna, though sadly mutilated, is perhaps the best and most perfect. In all its details it shows a close resemblance to that of Diocletian at Spalato, but more especially so to the Porta Aurea and the most richly and least classically decorated parts of that edifice, but much intermixed with mouldings and details which would seem to belong to a later style.
Another building, though perhaps of earlier date, is that which is now called the Palazzo delle Torre at Turin, and which still retains the architectural ordinance of the exterior of a Roman amphitheatre, but so modified by common sense that the pilasters are frankly accepted as purely decorative features, having only a slight projection. A similar style of work is found at Bordeaux in what is known as the “Palais Gallien,” but which in reality is a fragment of an amphitheatre built by the Emperor Gallienus (260-268 A.D.). The example at Turin is built with brick of large dimensions 15 in. by 11 in., which, coupled with its character and style, has led M. Cattaneo to ascribe it to the 3rd or 4th century of our era; the paucity of contemporary examples, however, renders it extremely difficult to trace the exact history of the style at this age.
438. Palazzo delle Torre, Turin. (From Osten’s ‘Bauwerke in der Lombardei.’)
In so progressive an art as architecture it is always very difficult, sometimes impossible, to fix the exact date when one style ends and another begins. In an art so pre-eminently ecclesiastical as architecture was in those days, it will probably be safer to look in the annals of the Church rather than in those of the State for a date when the debased-Roman expired, giving birth, phœnix-like, to the Romanesque. Viewed from this point there can be little doubt but that the reign of Gregory the Great (A.D. 590 to 603) must be regarded as that in which the Latin language and the Roman style of architecture both ceased to be generally or even commonly employed.
After this date we wander on through five centuries of tentative efforts to form a new style, and in the age of another Gregory—the VII.—we find at last the Romanesque style emancipated from former traditions, and marching steadily forward with a well-defined aim. What had been commenced under the gentle influence of a Theodelinda at Florence in the year 600, was completed in the year 1077 under the firmer guidance of a Matilda at Canossa.
CHAPTER IV.
LOMBARD AND ROUND-ARCHED GOTHIC.
CONTENTS.
Chapel at Friuli—Churches at Piacenza and Novara—St. Michele, Pavia—St. Ambrogio, Milan—Cathedral, Piacenza—Churches at Verona—Churches at Toscanella—Circular Churches—Towers.
When, in the early centuries of the Christian era, the great mass of Gothic barbarism moved up the Valley of the Danube towards the west, one great division followed that river to its source, and thence penetrated into and settled in the Valley of the Rhine. Though sufficiently numerous to be able almost wholly to obliterate all traces of former civilisation, they had virtually no style of their own, and it seems probable that the edifices left by the Romans sufficed for the early wants of the people.
The other great division of the horde turned to the Sömmering Alps and, penetrating into Italy by way of Udine and Conegliano, settled in the Valley of the Po. They may have been as numerous as the others; but Italy in those days was far more densely peopled than Germany, and the inhabitants were consequently able to resist obliteration far more successfully than on the north of the Alps, and even where the new element prevailed most strongly its influence was far less felt than in the more sparsely-peopled Rhenish provinces. This was generally more apparent along the coast than in the interior. Venice did not exist, and Ravenna, though overwhelmed, became the great centre of Romano-Byzantine art. Pisa and Lucca resisted throughout. Florence was divided. The Barbarian influence was strongly felt at Siena, more feebly at Orvieto; but there it was stopped by the influence of Rome, which throughout the Middle Ages remained nearly uncontaminated.
Notwithstanding the almost insuperable barrier of the Alps which stretched between them and the different influences to which they were subjected, the connection between the northern and southern hordes remained intimate during the whole of the Middle Ages. Milan was as much German as Italian; and, indeed, except from a slightly superior degree of elegance in the southern examples, it is sometimes extremely difficult to distinguish between the designs of Lombard and of Rhenish churches. As the Middle Ages wore on, however, the breach between the two styles widened; and there is no difficulty, in the later pointed schools, in seeing how Italy was gradually working itself free from German influence, till at last they became distinct and antagonistic nationalities, practising two styles of art, which had very little in common the one with the other.
Whoever the Barbarians were who in the 5th and 6th centuries swarmed into Italy—Austro-Goths, Visi-Goths, or Lombards—they certainly did not belong to any of the great building races of the world. Few people ever had better opportunities than they of employing their easily-acquired plunder in architectural magnificence, if they had any taste that way; but, though we hear everywhere of the foundation of churches and the endowment of ecclesiastical establishments during the Carlovingian period, not one important edifice of that age has come down to our time. The monumental history of the early Romanesque style is as essentially a blank in Italy as it is in Saxon England. One or two circular buildings remain tolerably entire; some small chapels let us into the secrets of the style, but not one important edifice of any sort attests the splendour of the Lombard kingdom of Northern Italy. Aryans they must have been, and it was not till the beginning of the 11th century, when their blood was thoroughly mixed with that of the indigenous inhabitants and a complete fusion of races had taken place, that we find buildings of a monumental character erected, which have come down to the present day.
439. Chapel at Friuli. (From Gailhabaud.)
Among the smaller monuments of the age none has been preserved more complete and less altered than the little chapel at Friuli; which, though extremely small (only 18 ft. by 30 inside the walls), is interesting, as retaining all its decorations almost exactly as they were left by Gertrude, duchess of Friuli, who erected it in the 8th century. It shows considerable elegance in its details, and the sculpture is far better than it afterwards became, though perhaps its most remarkable peculiarity is the intersecting vault that covers it—pulchre testudinatum, as the old chronicle terms it. This is one proof among many, how early that feature was introduced which afterwards became the formative principle of the whole Gothic style, and was as essentially its characteristic as the pillars and entablatures of the five orders were the characteristics of the classical styles of Greece and Rome. As before remarked, it is this necessity for a stone roof that was the problem to be solved by the architects, and to accomplish which the style took almost all those forms which are so much admired in it.
From this example of the Carlovingian era we are obliged to pass to the 11th and 12th centuries, the first great building age of the Lombards. It is true that there is scarcely a single important church in Pavia, in Verona, or indeed in any of the cities of Lombardy, the original foundation of which cannot be traced back to a much earlier period. Before the canons of architectural criticism were properly understood, antiquaries were inclined to believe that in the buildings now existing they saw the identical edifices erected during the period of the Lombard sway. Either, however, in consequence of the rude construction of the earlier buildings, or because they were too small or too poor for the increased population and wealth of the cities at a later period, every one of the original churches has disappeared and been replaced by a larger and better-constructed edifice, adorned with all the improvements which the experience of centuries had introduced into the construction of religious edifices.
Judging from the rudeness of the earliest churches which we know to have been erected in the 11th century, it is evident that the progress made, up to that period, was by no means equal to what was accomplished during the next two centuries.
440. Plan of San Antonio, Piacenza. (From Osten.[[293]]) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.[[294]]
This will appear from the plan and section of St. Antonio at Piacenza (Woodcuts Nos. [440] and [440a]), built in the first years of the 11th century, and dedicated in 1014 by Bishop Siegfried.
440a. Section of Church of San Antonio at Piacenza. (From Osten.)
441. Plan and section of Baptistry at Asti. (From Osten.) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.
Its arrangement is somewhat peculiar; the transepts are near the west end, and the octagonal tower rising from the intersection is supported on eight pillars, the square being completed by four polygonal piers. The principal point, however, to observe is, how completely the style has emancipated itself from all Roman tradition. A new style has grown up as essentially different from the early Christian as the style of Cologne or of York Cathedral. The architect is once more at liberty to work out his own designs without reference to anything beyond the exigencies of the edifices themselves. The plan, indeed, is still a reminiscence of the Basilica; but so are all the plans of Mediæval cathedrals, and we may trace back the forms of the pillars, the piers, and the arches they support, to the preceding style. All these were derived from Roman art, but the originals are forgotten, and the new style is wholly independent of the old one. The whole of the church too is roofed with intersecting vaults, which have become an integral part of the design, giving it an essentially different character. On the outside buttresses are introduced—timidly, it is true, but so frequently, as to make it evident that already there existed no insuperable objection to increase either their number or depth, as soon as additional abutment was required for wider arches.
The windows, as in all Italian churches, are small, for the Italians never patronised the art of painting on glass, always preferring frescoes or paintings on opaque grounds. In their bright climate, very small openings alone were requisite to admit a sufficiency of light without disturbing that shadowy effect which is so favourable to architectural grandeur.
Being a parochial church, this building had no baptistery attached to it; but there is one at Asti (Woodcut No. [441]) so similar in style and age, that its plan and section, if examined with those of San Antonio, will give a very complete idea of Lombard architecture in the beginning of the 11th century, when it had completely shaken off the Roman influence, but had not yet begun to combine the newly-invented forms with that grace and beauty which mark its more finished examples. One peculiarity of this building is the gloom that reigns within, there being absolutely no windows in the dome, and those in the aisles are so small, that even in Italy the interior must always have been in comparative darkness.
442. Plan of the Cathedral at Novara. Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.
The cathedral of Novara, which in its present state is one of the most important buildings of the 11th century in the North of Italy, shows the style still further advanced. The coupling and grouping of piers are here fully understood, and the divisions of the chapels which form the outer aisle are, in fact, concealed buttresses. The Italians were never able to divest themselves of their partiality for flat walls, and never liked the bold external projections so universally admired on the other side of the Alps. They therefore gladly had recourse to this expedient to conceal them; and when this was not available they used metallic ties to resist the thrust of the arches—an expedient which is found even in this example. As will be seen from the annexed plan, the atrium connecting the basilica with the baptistery is retained, which seems to have been an arrangement almost universal in those early times. The half section, half elevation of the front (Woodcut No. [443]) shows very distinctly how far the invention of the new style had then gone; for except some Corinthian pillars, borrowed from an older edifice, no trace of debased-Roman architecture is to be found in it. The design of the façade explains what it was that suggested to the Pisan architects the form to which they adapted their Romanesque details. In both styles the arcade was the original model of the whole system of ornamentation. In this case it is used first as a discharging arch, then as a mere repetition of a useful member, and lastly without pillars, as a mere ornamental string-course, which afterwards became the most favourite ornament, not only in Italy, but throughout all Germany.
443. Elevation and Section of the Façade of the Cathedral at Novara. (From Osten.)
Interesting as such an example is to the architectural antiquary who is tracing back and trying to understand the forms of a new style, it would be difficult to conceive anything much uglier and less artistic than such a façade as this of Novara or that of San Antonio, last quoted. Their sole merit is their history and their expression of rude energy, so characteristic of the people who erected them.
444. Section of San Michele, Pavia. (From Agincourt.) No scale.
The church of San Michele at Pavia, which took its present form either at the end of the 11th or beginning of the 12th century, is one of the most interesting of this age, and presents in itself all the characteristics of a perfect round-arched Gothic church. Indeed there is hardly any feature worth mentioning which was invented after this date except the pointed arch—a very doubtful improvement—and window tracery, which the Italians never cordially adopted or understood. The section (Woodcut No. [444]) shows the general arrangement of San Michele in its present state. The researches of M. de Dartein,[[295]] however, have shown that, when first built, the nave was covered over with two square quadripartite vaults, as might in fact have been divined from the difference in size[[296]] of the centre and two other piers. The existing oblong vaulted compartments date from the 15th century, when secondary shafts were carried up above the ground storey shafts of piers 1 and 3. The section, however, shows that well-marked vaulting shafts spring from floor to roof, that the pier arches in the wall are probably distinct and well understood, and that the angles of these piers are softened and ornamented by shafts and other subordinate members. Altogether, it is evident that that subdivision of labour (if the expression may be used) which was so characteristic of the true Gothic style had here been perfectly understood, every part having its own function and telling its own story. To complete the style only required a little experience to decide on the best and most agreeable proportions in size and solidity. In a century from the date of this church the required progress had been made; a century later it had been carried too far, and the artistic value of the style was lost in mere masonic excellence. San Michele and the other churches of its age fail principally from over-heaviness of parts and a certain clumsiness of construction, which, though not without its value as an expression of power, wants the refinement necessary for a true work of art. Externally, one of the most pleasing features of this church is the apse with its circular gallery. In Italian churches the gallery is usually a simple range of similar arcades; here, however, it is broken into three great divisions by coupled shafts springing from the ground, and these again subdivided by single shafts running in like manner through the whole height of the apse. The gallery thus not only becomes a part of the whole design, instead of looking like a possible afterthought, but an agreeable variety is also given, which adds not a little to the pleasing effect of the building.
445. View of the Apse of San Michele, Pavia. (From Du Somerard, ‘Les Arts au Moyen-Age.’)
There are at least two other churches in Pavia, which, though altered in many parts, retain their apsidal arrangements tolerably perfect. One of these, that of San Teodoro (1150), may be somewhat later than the San Michele, and has its gallery divided into triplets of arcades by bold flat buttresses springing from the ground. In the other, San Pietro in Cielo d’Oro, dating from 1132, the arcade is omitted round the apse, though introduced in the central dome. It has besides two subordinate apses of graceful design, but inferior to the other examples.
Though Milan must have been rich in churches of this age, the only one now remaining tolerably entire is San Ambrogio, which is so interesting as almost to make amends for its singularity. Historical evidence shows that a church existed here from a very early age. It was rebuilt in the 9th century by Bishop Angelbert, aided by the munificence of Louis the Pious, and an atrium was added by Bishop Anspertus; but except the apse and “the canons’” tower, nothing remains of even that church, all the rest having been rebuilt in the 11th or 12th century. During the late restoration the bases of some of the columns of the 9th-century church were discovered, and one of them is now visible in the pulpit enclosure.
The disposition of the building will be understood from the annexed plan, which shows both the atrium and the church. The former is virtually the nave; in other words, had the church been erected on the colder and stormier side of the Alps, a clerestory would have been added to the atrium, and it would have been roofed over; and then the plan would have been nearly identical with that of a Northern cathedral.
446. Plan of San Ambrogio, Milan. (From Ferrario.) Scale 100 ft. to 1 in.
The third (sexpartite) bay was revaulted in the 14th century with two oblong quadripartite vaults, but these are now replaced by sexpartite vaulting. The dome is probably an addition of the end of the 12th century, and it is raised over what would otherwise have been the fourth bay of the church. As it is, the atrium (Woodcut No. [446]) is a highly pleasing adjunct to the façade, removing the church back from the noisy world outside, and by its quiet seclusion tending to produce that devotional feeling so suitable to the entrance of a place of worship. The façade of the building itself, though, like the atrium, only in brick, is one of the best designs of its age; the upper loggia, or open gallery, of five bold but unequal arches, producing more shadow than the façade at Pisa, without the multitude of small parts there crowded together, and with far more architectural propriety and grace. As seen from the atrium, with its two towers, one on either flank, it forms a composition scarcely surpassed by any other in this style.
As now restored, the simplicity and line effect of the vaulted interior is remarkable, and it is also a museum of ecclesiological antiquities of the best class. The silver altar of Angilbertus (A.D. 835) is unrivalled either for richness or beauty of design by anything of the kind known to exist elsewhere, and the baldacchino that surmounts it is also of singular beauty: so are some of its old tombs, of the earliest Christian workmanship. Its mosaics, its pulpit, and the bronze doors, not to mention the brazen serpent—said to be the very one erected by Moses in the wilderness—and innumerable other relics, make this church one of the most interesting of Italy, if not indeed of all Europe.
447. Atrium of San Ambrogio, Milan. (From Ferrario.[[297]])
Generally speaking, the most beautiful part of a Lombard church is its eastern end. The apse with its gallery, the transepts, and above all the dome that almost invariably surmounts their intersection with the choir, constitute a group which always has a pleasing effect, and is very often highly artistic and beautiful. The sides of the nave, too, are often well designed and appropriate; but, with scarcely a single exception, the west end, or entrance front, is comparatively mean. The building seems to be cut off at a certain length without any appropriate finish, or anything to balance the bold projections towards the east. The French cathedrals, on the contrary, while they entirely escape this defect by means of their bold western towers, are generally deficient in the eastern parts, and almost always lack the central dome or tower. The English Gothic architects alone understood the proper combination of the three parts. The Italians, when they introduced a tower, almost always used it as a detached object, and not as a part of the design of the church. In consequence of this the façades of their churches are frequently the least happy parts of the composition, notwithstanding the pains and amount of ornament lavished upon them.
448. Façade of the Cathedral at Piacenza. (From Chapuy, ‘Moyen-Âge Monumental.’)
The elevation of the cathedral at Piacenza is a fair illustration of the general mode of treating the western front of the building, not only in the 11th and 12th centuries, but afterwards, when a church had a façade at all—for the Italians seem to have been seldom able to satisfy themselves with this part of their designs, and a great many of their most important churches have, in consequence, not even now been completed in this respect.
Instead of recessing their doors, as was the practice on this side of the Alps, the Italians added projecting porches, often of considerable depth, and supported by two or more slight columns, generally resting on the backs of symbolical animals. No part of these porches, as an architectural arrangement, can be deemed worthy of any commendation; for, in the first place, a column planted on an animal’s back is an anomaly and an absurdity, and the extreme tenuity of the pillars, as compared with the mass they support, is so glaring that even its universality fails in reconciling the eye to the disproportion. In the present instance the porch is two storeys in height, the upper being a niche for sculpture. Its almost exact resemblance to the entrance porch below is therefore a defect. Above there is generally a gallery, sometimes only in the centre; sometimes, as in this instance, at the sides, though often carried quite across; and in the centre above this there is almost invariably a circular window, the tracery of which is frequently not only elaborately but beautifully ornamented with foliage and various sculptural devices.
Above this there is generally one of those open galleries mentioned before, following the slope of the roof, though frequently, as in this instance, this is replaced by a mere belt of semicircular arches, suggesting an arcade, but in reality only an ornament.