Though I speak of the Early Pointed as a newly-generated art—as it in effect was—it must never be forgotten that it is a distinct and natural growth from the pre-existing Romanesque. The more I study old examples the more obvious does this appear. Take either France or England alone, and you may from either construct, ad libitum, unbroken catenæ of examples, showing step by step the natural and logical growth of the new style out of the old; and that without any essential imported element (for the Byzantine capital, which was the parent of the Gothic one, was an accidental, though a happy, importation).
This progressive growth was but the practical realisation of three great aims towards which the Romanesque architects were ever striving—the perfecting of their arcuated and vaulted construction, the increase of the altitude of their proportions, and the general adding of refinement and elegance to their details. Thus, if you take the internal bay of a Norman cathedral, and simply set yourself the task of increasing its height in a given proportion, the result will be a Gothic bay, for the arches cannot participate in the increased elevation without becoming pointed. If the details are further refined, it becomes an ordinary transitional design; and if the process is carried on a little farther, it becomes a perfected Early Pointed work—the distinction between transition and perfected Early Pointed being merely the carrying on of the process by which the former was generated out of Romanesque. This fact, which all who look closely into it must see, was what led a talented writer to say that Early Pointed was only Romanesque improved. He meant this as an argument against it as compared with the still succeeding styles; but I confess, for my own part, while feeling strongly the truth of the observation, and highly appreciating the importance of some of the subsequent developments, I do not the less admire the glorious productions of the Early style from seeing in them the evidences of the vigorous stock from which they have sprung.[36]
It will be seen, by enumerating the leading characteristics of Pointed architecture, that the great majority of them were already perfected, or, at least, brought to that reasonable and consistent state of development which stops short of excess and exaggeration, at the commencement of the thirteenth century.
The pointed arch had obtained universal predominance, though without involving the rejection of the semicircular or the plain segment, where circumstances called for them; the general predominance of the vertical line was acknowledged, without running into the excess of underrating the horizontal; lofty and aspiring proportions prevailed, though not to the extent of exaggeration, and without unreasonably asserting their claims in works of a humbler class; the subdivision of arches into orders, and the clustering of the pillars, so as to satisfy the eye that each member of the arch was severally supported, had arisen during the Romanesque period, and was now carried out still more systematically and with greater elegance; and the system of making the bases and capitals face in the direction of the insisting arch-rib, which had also arisen early, was (in France at least) very generally adhered to. The distinction between constructional and decorative pillars—one of the great characteristics of the Gothic style, both Round and Pointed—was carried to its fullest extent; the vaulting system was perfected, though retaining its normal simplicity; and the corresponding system of buttress (solid or arched) and pinnacle, which are the necessary accompaniments of a perfect arcuated style, had been brought to perfection; the continuity of line was acknowledged sufficiently to suggest a feeling of natural growth of the parts one from another, from the bases of the shafts to the bosses of the vaulting, but without that sacrifice of force and of all salient points which became the vice of later styles.
The principle of rendering the useful features ornamental was fully developed; as an instance of it—the doorways, the only parts of the exterior which must of necessity be seen from close at hand, were rendered magnificent beyond all former precedent, and became the vehicles of noble sculpture, and the great exponents of the objects of the building, whether religious or secular. The windows now became great characteristic objects, not only from their richly painted glass within, but as leading architectural features, both within and without. The bell towers became glorious structures, rendering the cities conspicuous throughout the whole surrounding district, and making every village a distinct and beautiful point in the landscape. The same principle obtained in all secular structures. The castles of the nobility became truly noble structures, glorious for the stern grandeur of their external aspect, and for the massive beauty of their internal architecture; the gates and defences of cities partook of the same severe grandeur; while the street fronts, the town halls, and other civic buildings, displayed architectural characteristics, modest or grand, as suited their several purposes. In Italy, where municipal institutions were more developed, noble street palaces were erected; and everywhere the architecture, whether viewed in the mass or in its details, was suited, as by an unerring instinct, to the objects on which it was exercised.
The decorative system of the architecture had also been brought to great perfection. The mouldings were refined without losing boldness or strength—in fact, were strong or delicate, as suited their position; the foliated carving had arrived at very high perfection, and was of a kind perfectly new—the magnificent creation of the artistic mind; sculpture was often profusely used in connection with architecture, and if not of that perfectly studied symmetry which satisfies the academic critic, it evinces a boldness of conception, a quickness of invention, and an unaffected grandeur of sentiment, which our modern sculptors would do well to emulate, while it is eminently suited, by its rigid lines and severe force, to architectural purposes.
It would be absurd to attempt, in a single lecture, to give any detailed description of the architecture of this great period; nor is it necessary, as no style is so familiar to those whose attention has been at all turned to such subjects; I will, however, take a few of its leading points, and call attention to some of their characteristics.
I will begin with the Column. In no feature is the difference between Classic and Gothic architecture so strongly marked as in the column. In the former, one general idea alone prevailed—the round shaft with a capital, and with or without a base. In the latter this normal type is equally admissible and equally honoured, but, in addition to it, an almost endless list of forms are introduced. In the first place the round column is converted at pleasure into the octagonal or other polygonal form—this is a mere variety of the normal type; then either the round or the polygon is flanked by four smaller shafts, attached or detached, and these subsidiary shafts may be increased in number, subordinated one to another, both in size and salience, and may be all attached, all detached, or the attached and detached shafts may be used alternately or in any other order in the same pillar.
Then, again, instead of the cylindrical pillar, we may have four cylinders united in one, and these may in their turn be made the nucleus round which detached or attached shafts may be grouped: or we may have two or more separate cylindrical main shafts carrying the load, and may group subordinate ones round them; and again, we may take other forms of nucleus—as the square, the canted square, or a pier with receding orders—and place our shafts round them; and, finally, we may form groups in which no specific form of nucleus is to be traced, but which consist of shafts arranged with reference to the superincumbent arch alone.
The number of changes which may be rung on these varieties of pillar are absolutely endless, though it is not desirable to indulge too much in the more intricate forms of grouping, but, as a general rule, to keep to forms which are naturally suggested by the duties the pillar is designed to perform. When detached subsidiary shafts are used, it is somewhat unnatural to joint them in their length without introducing some visible means of tying them to the main pillar within. This necessity gave rise to the use of the moulded band, which forms so beautiful a feature in the pillars of this period. It is sometimes made of brass, but more usually of stone or marble.