Like many other churches in Northern Italy, the principal parts of the Certosa are built in brick, and the ornamental details executed in terra-cotta. Some of the latter, especially in the cloisters, are as beautiful as any executed in stone in any part of Italy during the Middle Ages; and their perfect preservation shows how suitable is the material for such purposes. It may not be appropriate for large details or monumental purposes, but for the minor parts and smaller details, when used as the Italians in the Middle Ages used it, terra-cotta is as legitimate as any material anywhere used for building purposes; and in situations like the alluvial plains of the Po, where stone is with difficulty obtainable, its employment was not only judicious but most fortunate in its results.
It would be a tedious and unprofitable task to attempt to particularise all the churches which were erected in this style in Italy, as hardly one of them possesses a single title to admiration beyond the very vulgar one of size. To this Santa Croce, at Florence, adds its association with the great men who lie buried beneath it, and Sta. Maria Novella can plead the circumstance—exceptional in that city—of possessing a façade;[[315]] but neither of these has anything to redeem its innate ugliness in the eyes of an architect.
There are two great churches of this period at Venice, the San Giovanni e Paolo (1246-1420) and the Frari (1250); they are large and richly ornamented fabrics, but are both entirely destitute of architectural merit.
511. Duomo at Ferrara. (From Hope’s ‘Architecture.’) Scale 50 ft. to 1 in.
A much more beautiful building is the cathedral at Como, the details of which are so elegant and so unobtrusively used as in great measure to make up for the bad arrangement and awkward form of the whole. In design it is, however, inferior to that of the Duomo at Ferrara (Woodcut No. [511]). The latter does not display the richness of the façades of Siena or Orvieto, nor the elegance of that last named; but among the few Italian façades which exist, it stands pre-eminent for sober propriety of design and the good proportions of all its parts. The repose caused by the solidity of the lower portions, and the gradual increase of ornament and lightness as we ascend, all combine to render it harmonious and pleasing. It is true it wants the aspiring character and bold relief of Northern façades; but these do not belong to the style, and it must suffice if we meet in this style with a moderate amount of variety, undisturbed by any very prominent instances of bad taste.
The true type of an Italian façade is well illustrated in the view of St. Francesco at Brescia (Woodcut No. [512]), which may be considered the germ of all that followed. Whether the church had three aisles or five, the true Italian façade in the age of pointed architecture was always a modification or extension of this idea, though introduced with more or less Gothic feeling according to the circumstances of its erection.
At Florence there is a house or warehouse, converted into a church,—Or (horreum) San Michele, which has attracted a good deal of attention, but more on account of its curious ornaments than for beauty of design—which latter it does not, and indeed can hardly be expected to, possess. The little chapel of Sta. Maria della Spina at Pisa owes its celebrity to the richness of its niches and canopies, and to the sculpture which they contain. In this the Italians were always at home, and probably always surpassed the Northern nations. It was far otherwise with architecture, properly so called. This, in the age of the pointed style, was in Italy so cold and unmeaning, that we do not wonder at the readiness with which the Italians returned to the classical models. They are to be forgiven in this, but we cannot so easily forgive our forefathers, who abandoned a style far more beautiful than that of Italy to copy one which they had themselves infinitely surpassed; and this only because the Italians, unable either to comSprehend or imitate the true principles of pointed art, were forced to abandon its practice. Unfortunately for us, they had in this respect in that age sufficient influence to set the fashion to all Europe.
512. View of St. Francesco, Brescia. (From Street’s ‘Brick and Marble in the Middle Ages.’)