TRIFORIUM OF NAVE.
Now this is a very important matter, at any rate to Englishmen. In the first place, we are provided with another example of first-rate importance, of what architects were doing in this country just before the final plunge into Gothic, i.e., just before St. Hugh commenced his work at Lincoln. Hitherto we have had to rely on what we see in Canterbury choir; now we have Wells also. To these we may add the little-known Abbey of Dore, in the Black Mountains. In its lovely choir we go one step farther. Even the square abacus, universal at Wells, alternates there with the round form, and is more and more infrequent as one proceeds to the retro-choir, where indeed the work, to all intents and purposes, is pure Gothic. And thus we get what we never had before, a bridge or series of stepping-stones to Gothic architecture. Formerly one passed at a bound, an impossible bound, from Canterbury choir to Lincoln Minster. Now we can leave out the French work of Canterbury choir altogether, and accomplish the passage from Norman to Gothic through Malmesbury, Kirkstall, Ripon, Wells, Abbey Dore. Before, it was inconceivable how Lincoln came into existence; it was an architectural Melchisedek, without father or mother; and those who did not believe in spontaneous generation in architecture were driven, in spite of their wishes, to seek out an ancestor for St. Hugh’s choir in France. Now the whole difficulty is removed, the missing link has been found, Lincoln is but the logical development of Wells and Abbey Dore. The architectural chain is complete. Lincoln is no Melchisedek we have found its parents; and, what is profoundly satisfactory, they are true-born Englishmen, not Frenchmen. Wells, therefore, deserves all the attention that the architectural student can give to it, as evidence that the Gothic architecture of England did not originate with the French choir at Canterbury of William of Sens, but is native and indigenous to the soil.
The design of the nave of Wells, however, has more than archæological interest; it has a decided artistic distinction of its own. In the first place, the interior looks taller than it is—i.e. it is the very reverse of Lichfield. It is but 67 feet high, and is thus one of the lowest of our cathedrals; but so just are its proportions, so well adjusted the tall clerestory to the stages below, that to the eye the ratio of height to breadth is entirely satisfactory. Equally remarkable is the way in which the impression of great length is produced. This is due to the obliteration of vertical divisions in the triforium and ground-story, which are not separated off, as usual, into bays by vaulting-shafts. The vaulting-shafts are stopped just below the sill of the clerestory, and the triforium runs in an uninterrupted arcade, the whole distance from west to east. Such a treatment of the triforium is unusual in England, but is found also at Glastonbury and Llandaff: perhaps it hails originally from Matilda’s church, the Abbaye aux Dames, at Caen. And the free flow, east and west, of the broad horizontal band of the triforium is aided still further by designing it void of shafts, bases, and capitals alike. The central tower seems to have collapsed in 1248, and many of the capitals seem to be of this or of a still later date. The capitals, corbels and the carving generally of this part of the cathedral are most spirited and interesting; there is hardly any mediæval work in the country to excel it in spirit, variety and execution; it should be examined with the utmost care. When you have seen the carving in Wells cathedral, you will not be so much surprised at the excellence of that in the choirs of Lincoln and the west front of St. Albans. The plan of the piers should also be noted.
WEST FRONT.
Lancet Period. West Front.—Looking westward, we see to the south (on the left) the chapel of St. Edmund, and to the north the chapel of the Holy Cross, now the Consistory Court. The west front, including these chapels, is Bishop Jocelyn’s work; it is in the purest early English Gothic, probably built after his return from exile in 1213, and finished by him before 1239. There has been, however, some rebuilding here, and a parapet added, in the fifteenth century. Passing out, we can now survey the famous façade, and its immense collection of sculpture—by far the best mediæval figure-sculpture in England, and only surpassed by the yet finer and earlier sculpture of Chartres and Rheims. The visitor will do well to study it in detail in the admirable series of photographs, taken when the scaffolding was up for the restoration of the façade. Professor Cockerell suggests that the façade is to be regarded as a Te Deum in stone.
CHAPTER HOUSE
As for the composition of the west front, it has been severely criticised, but two things must be borne in mind. The first is, that the towers were probably designed for spires. Add the spires, and as Notre Dame, Paris, the squatness of the façade disappears. Secondly, it was designed for the sculpture—a sort of open-air reredos—and not the sculpture for the façade. Nevertheless, it is not good, even as a reredos. The windows are mere slits in the wall, the doorways mere “holes for frogs and mice.” It lacks variety: the six big buttresses project, but have all the same amount of projection. The arcading below the west window is confused and muddled, and cut into anyhow by the central doorway. Nevertheless, its great breadth makes this façade of Wells more impressive than any other in the country, except that of Peterborough. What would it be with the spires added!