Lectures on the rise and development of medieval architecture; vol. 1

by Sir George Gilbert Scott

The next claim I will state is this—that as trabeated architecture was brought to its highest perfection by the Greeks, so the other great type of construction, arcuated architecture, was perfected by the Mediæval builders; the round-arch variety in the twelfth, and the pointed-arch in the two succeeding centuries. No one who gives the subject a moment’s consideration will doubt the enormous advantages of the arcuated over the trabeated system: indeed, with the materials we have at command in this country, the former style in its purity is in most cases impracticable, as is shown by half our modern attempts at it being in reality arcuation plastered over to look like trabeation.

The peculiar advantages of the pointed arch (though I do not urge them to the exclusion of other forms) are its greater power of carrying weight; its lessened thrust; the facility with which it proportions its height to that of its supporting jambs, and the general feeling of the building in which it is used, whether more or less vertical in its tendency; and its great advantages in groined vaulting.

The next quality I will mention is the extraordinary facility of our style in decorating construction, and in converting structural and useful features into elements of beauty. The arch, its normal feature, supplies to it an endless store of beauty. The vault supplies another inexhaustible fund, and assumes forms unrivalled in any other style. The window, comparatively neglected by the ancient architects, and even hated by the Greeks, was, in the hands of the Gothic builders, a perfect treasury of architectural loveliness; and the introduction of window-glass, an invention nearly unknown to the ancients, became the source of an entirely new and most enchanting art, and one which exercised the most surprising influence upon architecture. The buttress, the natural but unpromising accompaniment of an arcuated style, became in their magic hands, a source of stateliness and varied beauty. The roof, unwillingly shown by the Classic builders, adds solemn dignity to the works of their Northern successors; while, if need be, its timbers are made to contribute liberally to the effect of the interior. The campanile, a structure resulting wholly from practical necessity, became the greatest ornament of Christian cities, and supplied an endless variety of majestic forms, which had no parallels in ancient architecture; and generally, whatever feature, whether homely or otherwise, construction or utility demanded, was at once enlisted, and that with right goodwill and heartiness, among the essential elements of the design.

Carrying out the same spirit, no material was either too rich or too rustic to find an honourable place in the works of these truly Catholic builders. The varied marbles of the Appenines, the polished amethysts of Bohemia, the glass mosaics of the Byzantines, with gold and silver, enamel, brass, and iron, were all brought under tribute to make their richer works glorious; yet they were equally at home in the use of brick, or flint, or rubble, and did not despise even a homely coating of plaster, if only it were honestly and truthfully used. And, what is more remarkable, they excelled in the use of nearly every one of these materials, and varied their design with instinctive precision to meet every one of their individual conditions.

Carrying on the same spirit a step further, Gothic architecture shapes itself instinctively to varied climate and local tradition, and that without sacrificing its leading principles. It is true that its great normal types are found in Northern Europe, and that the north of France may, perhaps, be considered as its central province; yet how admirably does it shape itself to the varied conditions of Italy or Spain, to the valleys of Switzerland or the inhospitable shores of Scandinavia! while in every country where it prevailed it assumes a national type, and in every province a local variety.

In the same way, again, it suits itself to every grade and every class of building to which it is applied. It is equally at home in the humble chapel of the rustic hamlet as in the metropolitan cathedral. The traveller through Lincolnshire is no less charmed by the village churches which rise in such profusion from its level surface than with the majestic minster, which, from its lofty site, surveys the whole county; nor are we, after wondering at the stupendous grandeur of York, the less disposed to be delighted with the little village chapel at Skelton; and even the rudest structures of the most obscure district possess a truthfulness and a sentiment which does more than compensate for their rusticity. To pass again to different classes of building, the Mediæval castles, though belonging to a class which the altered modes of warfare have rendered obsolete, are in their degree as noble and as thoroughly suited to their purpose as the sacred structures. The manor-house, the farm, and the cottage, show equal appropriateness of treatment. The timber street-fronts of Coventry or Brunswick; the brick houses of Lubeck or of the Lombard cities, or those of stone at Nuremberg—all evince the same power of meeting the conditions of purpose or material; while the vast warehouses of the commercial cities of Germany, the town halls of Flanders, and the tithe barns of an English village are, in their way, as admirable and as appropriate as the minster at Rheims or the castle at Carnarvon.

Again, Gothic architecture unites all arts in one, more, perhaps, than has been effected by any other style, or, to say the least, fully as much so.

In its normal form a stone architecture, it does not make all other materials conform to this condition, but treats them each according to its own demands. It is almost equally successful in its timber roofs as in its stone construction, and equally perfect in wood as in stone carving; it treats iron and brass in a manner perfectly suited to the varying conditions; it brings in painted decorations of the richest or the simplest character, as best suits the building; it has introduced one all-pervading art entirely of its own—I mean painted glass; and no art perhaps ever contributed in so large a degree to the increase of architectural effect: its jewellery, enamels, ivory carving, embroidery, tapestry, and all other arts are in perfect harmony; and though it fell short of the Classic styles in the perfection of its figure sculpture, it possessed even here a solemn and severe dignity, hardly equalled at any period, and its draperies often exceeded in beauty those of the Classic sculptors.

In describing the sculptures at Wells Cathedral, our revered professor, who possesses, in a greater degree than any one whom it is my privilege to know, the happiness of being susceptible of enthusiastic emotion from the beauties of a rival school of art to that to which he has especially devoted himself, makes the following remarks:—

“Regarded in the right spirit, we shall wonder at the inexhaustible resources of the artist in delineating the various and opposite characters of his multifarious composition—in which no two are to be found alike, and in each of which we find the appropriate idea—and the fulness of embodiment which sustains the dramatis personæ throughout, with an untiring energy of impersonation in costume, symbol, and action, which excites our warmest admiration.