England, as early as the seventh century, had called to her aid some of the French “masters in stone” and best workmen, and she subsequently continued to do so for the building and ornamentation of her finest religious edifices. William of Sens, a very skilful artist (artifex subtilissimus), proceeded, in 1176, to rebuild Canterbury Cathedral. Norman and French artists also restored the abbeys of Croyland and Wearmouth, and York Cathedral, already enriched with Byzantine and French sculpture.

Spain and Portugal, the soil of which had long been the theatre of an inveterate conflict between two races embracing two irreconcilable religions, were destined to inherit from these very struggles the creation of a singularly characteristic style of art. In adopting the Byzantine style, the Moors had deprived it of its character of simple earnestness, and made it to harmonise with the tendencies of their refined sensualism. Even when Christian art was able to exercise an undivided rule, it could not fail to be influenced by the buildings erected by the Moors; and the fact that this alliance of architectural and sculptural styles succeeded in producing masterpieces is well attested by the cathedrals of Cuenca, Vittoria, and some portions of those of Seville, Barcelona, and Lugo in Galicia.

Fig. 282.—Statues in the South Porch of Bourges Cathedral. (Twelfth Century.)

Sicily and the kingdom of Naples followed the movement made in other countries of Europe; but here, again, was felt the influence of various foreign importations. Some of them were of Greek origin, coming from Byzantium; some northern, from Normandy, and perhaps also from Germany; most, however, from Spain, and especially from the important school of Aragon.

“Nicolas of Pisa,” says Emeric David, “was born towards the end of the twelfth century, in a town then peopled with Greek masters and the pupils of those masters, and full of Greek monuments of every age; a town which might be called altogether Greek. He had the good sense to disdain the productions of his own time and to devote himself to the more elevated contemplation of the chefs-d’œuvre of ancient Greece. This proof of undoubted discernment, and a high degree of taste on his part, could not but lead to very marked progress. But a premature study of the antique is not so sure a guide to the desired end as the contemplation of nature, to which Guido of Siena, his contemporary, and a little later Cimabue and Giotto, taught perhaps by his errors, assiduously applied themselves.” There can, however, be no doubt that the first development of Christian sculpture in Italy must unquestionably be referred to Nicolas of Pisa. He had, nevertheless, some rivals who were well worthy of competing with him. Among these were Fuccio, sculptor of the magnificent tomb of the Queen of Cyprus, in the Church of San Francesco at Florence; and also Marchione of Arezzo, who in 1216 carved his name over the doorway of the church of that town. Giovanni of Pisa, son of Nicolas, who sculptured many beautiful works at Arezzo, Pistoia, and Florence, and even surpassed himself in the Campo Santo at Pisa, perhaps the most remarkable monument in Christian Europe, has been placed by some far below his father in rank as a sculptor, on account of an accusation made against him of having abandoned the Greek style. But this renunciation was, in fact, a real trait of genius, and actually constitutes his glory; for, by neglecting form to some extent, he was enabled to carry religious idealism and power of expression to its very highest limits. We must, therefore, consider Giovanni and Margaritone, pupils of Nicolas; Andrea Ugolino, pupil of Giovanni; Agnolo and Agostino of Siena; and the celebrated Giotto, who was at once architect, sculptor, and painter, as real regenerators of the art. Indeed, we might call these great artists the creators of Christian sculpture in Italy—that art in which simultaneously shone forth seriousness of composition, grace and ease of attitude, simplicity of imitation, elevation of sentiment; in short, all the great harmonies of a style which seemed to breathe forth a hymn of love and faith.

Thanks to the studios of Agnolo and Agostino, Siena, a small town which calls to mind the ancient Sicyone, so weak in a political point of view and yet so learned and polished, was for some time the rival of Pisa, up to the period when Florence absorbed the artistic splendour of the two cities. Florence, as the home of the Arts, became the centre of radiation, whence artists took their flight over the whole of Italy, and from Italy spread among all the nations of Europe.

Towards the end of the thirteenth century, the churches of Florence, on which the fraternities combined their efforts, and some of the civil buildings of this rich and flourishing city, were filled with statues. The foundation of the municipal palace in 1282, and that of the cathedral in 1298, made these two wonderful edifices real museums of sculpture, in which, among the works of Eastern artists, those of Giovanni of Arezzo and Giotto are distinguished. Agostino and Agnolo of Pisa executed at that time some magnificent examples at Santa Maria in Orvieto, San Francisco in Bologna, and in the subterranean Church of Assisi, &c. Lastly, Andrea of Pisa, a contemporary of Giotto, as he died only in 1345, extracted from antiquity all that Christian sculpture could borrow from it; that is, he combined sublimity both of form and expression. At Pisa, the chancel of Santa Maria a Ponte; at Florence, the campanile and the high-altar of Santa Maria de’ Fiori, and a door of San Giovanni; in the Cathedral of Pistoia, the tomb of Cino, are all of them so many masterpieces; above which, however, the old Pisan master proudly classed the works of his son Nino. This young artist, who carved the monument of the Scaligers at Verona, became, in fact, the worthy follower of the school which recognised Andrea as its chief. Jacopo della Quercia and Niccolo Aretino enriched also with magnificent works the towns of Siena, Lucca, Bologna, Arezzo, and Milan, as well as Florence. But when, in 1424, the tomb closed over Jacopo della Quercia, the lofty destinies of the art seemed to come to a termination, and soon rapidly declined. In Venice, at the death of Filippo Calendario, which occurred in 1355, Italian sculpture had already lost much of its nobility and vigour of style.

Italian sculpture ([Fig. 283]), as remarked by Emeric David, raised itself to the height of the sublime by merely striving after a simple and exact imitation of nature. It was by the same course of action that French sculpture always emulated its Transalpine rival; but, in order to attain the same end, the imitation followed a different path. In Italy, Art raised itself to the ideal by an attentive study of Greek forms; while on this side of the Alps, when sentiment required it, form was, if not sacrificed, at least neglected. French art showed more respect for the orthodoxy of Christian thought; she did not introduce into the sanctuary of the Holy of Holies any of those profane and material ideas that might have been inspired by the marbles of Greece. In spite of the pointed architecture which everywhere prevailed, French sculpture, replete with a certain eloquent unction, preserved for a considerable period the Byzantine style in the appearance of the head and in the delicacy of draperies; without, however, altogether renouncing its individuality of character, and without ceasing to seek for models peculiar to its own soil.