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Introduction.

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SOUTHWELL CHOIR SCREEN.

The following pages are an attempt to make the study of the English cathedrals more interesting. Every ancient building has a life-history of its own, and should be studied biographically. But open a guide-book, or visit the different portions of a cathedral (Winchester, for example,) in the regulation order, and what you read of or see will probably be, first, what was done in the nave in the latter part of the fourteenth and in the fifteenth century; then the work done in the crossing in the twelfth century; then work done in the transepts in the eleventh century; then the work in the choir in the first half of the fourteenth century; then the work done in the retro-choir early in the thirteenth century; finally, sixteenth-century work in the Lady chapel. To the reader this hop, skip, and jump method—if it deserves to be called a method—is simply maddening. For the visitor it has one merit, and one merit only: it saves his legs. I do not propose to save the visitor’s legs; I must candidly confess that the biographical method of studying a cathedral involves a certain amount of marching and countermarching. But I venture to hope that there are some visitors who will not be deterred by a little additional bodily fatigue from studying the cathedrals aright. With what horror a reader would study a biography of the Great Duke which commenced with the Peninsular War, then described his school-days at Eton, followed these up by the battle of Waterloo, digressed into a description of his childhood and ancestry, described his career as a Tory Prime Minister, and wound up with his campaigns in India! Yet that is how the English cathedrals are studied.


SOUTHWELL CHOIR.

But it is not sufficient to study the different parts of a cathedral in chronological order. It would be a dull biography of a man, and a dull history of a people, which put events correctly in chronological order, but did not point out the causal connection between them. It is just when we reach this point that the real interest begins. It does not interest one much to hear that an acquaintance whom we saw in London in the spring is now in the Australian bush: it does interest one when one hears that he had to leave the country because three months ago he was detected cheating at cards. So, in a cathedral, it is not enough to know that such a vault was put up or such a row of windows inserted in the fifteenth century. We want to know why the cathedral people constructed the vault or the windows just then; also, why they were not satisfied with what was there before; also, what was there before. And with the latter query comes in a fine field of action for what I believe is called the “constructive imagination.”

On the motives which influenced mediæval builders I have laid considerable stress throughout the book, simply because, if it has occurred at all to writers to ask why such and such a change was made, the answer usually has been—I quote from an article on one of the cathedrals—“simply a desire for what was thought a far superior kind of beauty led to the alteration of this work”: i.e., the Gothic builders were æsthetic dilettanti, striving after prettiness for prettiness’ sake; on a level with painters and poets and musicians. Now, some changes were due, I admit, to æsthetic considerations simply: e.g., the substitution of the present choir for the former Transitional choir at York; so also one of every pair of towers at the west end of a cathedral; and every spire in the country.


SOUTHWELL CHAPTER-HOUSE.

But the more the history of the cathedrals is studied, the more clearly it will be seen that the great majority of the alterations in the structure were forced on the ecclesiastical authorities of the day by practical considerations.

The monastery was large, as at Canterbury, and the church the seat of an archbishop; Lanfranc’s short choir had to be replaced by a longer one.

Saint-worship increased; pilgrimages increased; pilgrims came in thousands and tens of thousands. They could not be accommodated in the crypts as before: room had to be found on the floor of the choir for shrines transferred from the crypt; and aisles had to be constructed round the shrines, that there might be a free passage, and no dangerous block in the stream of pilgrims. For the local Saint—the St. Thomas of Canterbury, the St. Hugh of Lincoln—accommodation on a vast scale had to be provided. But beside the local saints, there were the great saints of the Church; for them special chapels, with altars, had to be provided, either in a new eastern transept or in aisles added to the central transept. There was, moreover, especially in the first half of the thirteenth century, a great outburst of Mariolatry. For these reasons, then—what we may call ritualistic reasons—vast eastern extensions were made in nearly every cathedral.

But the original Norman cathedrals were not only small and inconvenient to the east, but they were throughout very badly lighted; a very large amount of history, as I have tried to point out in speaking of Gloucester, Hereford, and Norwich, consists of attempts to improve the lighting of the cathedral. Sometimes, indeed, the improvement took the shape of total destruction of the old gloomy church, and its replacement by a brilliantly illuminated successor, as at York. Connected with this was the mania for an increased acreage of stained glass—an æsthetic motive which, however, had its practical side; the stained glass justifying itself to the monks and canons as providing a series of lessons in Scripture history or Church history.

Many changes were due to damage from fire or storm, or to jerry-building. The clerestory of Norwich had to be rebuilt because it had been crushed by the fall of the spire. The Norwich monks were driven to fireproof the whole church, because fires in 1463 and 1509 showed them the necessity of it, by burning down successively the wooden roofs, first of the nave and choir, then of the transept. I am sure that if our documentary evidence were not so deplorably incomplete, we should find that very many other alterations were due to the effect of fire and tempest: in which case the list of æsthetic changes would be yet further cut down—e.g., we might find after all that York choir had to be rebuilt for some purely matter-of-fact reason.

Add to these causes the frequent collapses due to mediæval jerry-building, both Norman and Gothic. Many central towers collapsed—e.g., at Winchester, Ripon, Wells, Ely, Peterborough, Lincoln; and doubtless there were collapses of many others, of which we have no record. Hence, for example, the fourteenth-century choir of Ely. Whole sections of a cathedral tumbled down—e.g., in St. Alban’s nave. The early masonry was but skin-deep; inside the thin casing of masonry the core of piers and walls alike had crumbled into powder; foundations were insufficient, or were simply omitted. The object was, but too often, not to build soundly, but to build a bigger church than the rival over the way, and to hurry it up as quickly as possible. Hence the shocking building done by the Peterborough people in their rivalry with Ely.

A considerable amount of space has been devoted to what is called the ichnography of the cathedrals—their ground-plans. It has not been possible to insert plans in the book; it seemed hardly desirable to do so. The Builder has published valuable plans, on a large scale, of all the cathedrals; they can be obtained separately, with the accompanying letterpress and illustrations. The student should never visit a cathedral without one of these plans. (I may add that he should always have a binocular to study the detail, much of which—e.g., the bosses—is quite out of the reach of the unaided eye.)

As regards the nomenclature of the parts of a cathedral, it may be useful to mention that the high altar is to the east; and that, facing the east, the visitor has the south transept and south aisles on his right, and the north transept and north aisles on his left hand. Standing at the altar or the choir-screen, and looking down the nave to the great doors, he has the north transept and north aisle of the nave on his right, and the south transept and south aisle of the nave on his left.


SOUTHWELL CHAPTER-HOUSE.

The western limb of the cathedral is called the nave. The term “choir” is sometimes loosely applied to the whole of the eastern limb. Strictly it applies just to that part of the church where the stalls are; and that part, as in St. Alban’s and Norwich, need not necessarily be in the eastern limb at all, but in the crossing and in the easternmost bays of the nave.

In a cathedral with a fully-developed plan,—e.g., St. Alban’s or Winchester—the following ritualistic divisions will be met with in passing from west to east:—(1) The nave; (2) the choir; (3) the sanctuary; (4) the retro-choir, containing (a) processional aisle, (b) Saint’s chapel, (c) ante-chapel or vestibule to the Lady chapel; (5) Lady chapel. Sometimes these ritualistic divisions correspond with the architectural divisions of the church; sometimes they do not: e.g., the ritualistic divisions of the eastern limbs of York and Lincoln were not shown in the structure, but merely marked off by screens, most of which have been destroyed.

Much time and trouble have been spent in the endeavour to correct the current chronology of the cathedrals. The subject is a difficult one; suffice it to say that I have relied rather on architectural than on documentary evidence. “In the earlier days of archæological study the tendency was to discredit the former and to accept the latter; in these days the results of strict analytical investigation and comparison of the minor details of the buildings of the Middle Ages dispose us to place much more reliance upon this species of internal evidence than on even the most unequivocal assertions of ecclesiastical historians.” The inductive reasoning based on the former is safer than the possibly hearsay or downright mendacious testimony of the latter. In all cases, however, where I have departed from an accepted chronology, I have given my reasons: e.g., in the chapters on Hereford and Wells.

As a rule, I have refrained from describing architectural detail. The visitor to the cathedral does not need the description; the reader does not need it, if he has an illustration before him; if he has not, no amount of verbiage will make clear to him what, for instance, a bay of the Angel triforium of Lincoln is like.


SOUTHWELL CHAPTER-HOUSE.

On the other hand, I have ventured on perilous ground in attempting to criticise design. Where the old builders seem to me to have done bad design, I have not scrupled to say so. Indiscriminate admiration of old work is as bad as indiscriminate censure of new work: both are fatal to the training of a right perceptive faculty. The student of design must compare and weigh and judge; he must not be misled by local enthusiasm to put St. Hugh’s choir at Lincoln on the level of Ely presbytery, or York nave on the level of that of Exeter. I may add that I have laid more stress than, perhaps, is usual, on proportion, as a leading factor in architectural effect.

I have followed the convenient custom of ascribing the design of different parts of the cathedrals to various bishops and abbots and priors. Such names, however, are merely convenient chronological fixtures, not intended to signify that the dignitaries of the church personally designed and erected them, but simply that they were in office when the work was done.

On the vexed question of architect v. master-mason, I may say that, just as I find it easier to believe in one Homer than in many Homers, so, in contemplating such a poem in stone as the west front of Peterborough or the retro-choir of Wells, I find it easier to believe in one inspired architect than in a crowd of inspired clerks of the works.

I have gratefully to acknowledge my obligations to the “Cathedral Handbooks” of Mr. John Murray, and to the Builder series of cathedrals; and to the brilliant word-painting of Mrs. Van Rensselaer in her “Handbook of Twelve English Cathedrals.”

All the English cathedrals have been studied on the spot; but I had the misfortune to lose the whole of my notes and the greater part of the completed MS., so that the work must be less accurate than I had hoped. Complete accuracy, however, is impossible in dealing with a subject so vast. It is impossible even to know a single cathedral. As has been finely said by Mr. Fergusson: “Not only is there built into a mediæval cathedral the accumulated thought of all the men who had occupied themselves with building during the preceding centuries, but you have the dream and aspiration of the bishop, abbot, or clergy for whom it was designed; the master-mason’s skilled construction; the work of the carver, the painter, the glazier, the host of men who, each in his own craft, knew all that had been done before them, and had spent their lives in struggling to surpass the works of their forefathers. It is more than this: there is not one shaft, one moulding, one carving, not one chisel-mark in such a building, that was not designed specially for the place where it is found, and which was not the best that the experience of the age could invent for the purposes to which it is applied; nothing was borrowed; and nothing that was designed for one purpose was used for another. A thought or a motive peeps out through every joint; you may wander in such a building for weeks or for months together, and never know it all.”


SOUTHWELL CHAPTER-HOUSE.

I trust that this attempt to open the way to understand and enjoy more fully the highest achievement of the English race in any branch of art—our mediæval architecture—may be helpful not only to English students, but to our American cousins also, who—so the vergers assure me—are the best-informed and most appreciative visitors to our cathedrals.

The initials which appear at the foot of the various illustrations indicate the names of the photographers whose negatives have been used. Thus:—B. and S.B. = S. B. Bolas & Co.; B. & Co. = J. Bulbeck & Co.; P. = The Photochrom Co.; W. = F. Wetherman & Co., Ltd.; R. = Rock Bros., Ltd.; A.F. = Mr. Arnold Fairbairns.

English Cathedrals Illustrated

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