Salisbury Cathedral

The Cathedral Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary, also known as Salisbury Cathedral, is noted for having the tallest church spire in England, but it has other notable qualities: the largest cloister, one of the oldest working clocks in the world, and one of four original copies of the Magna Carta.

There was already a gothic cathedral in Salisbury at Old Sarum, but a decision was made to construct a new church and move the cathedra, or bishop's seat, to Salisbury town. The bishop at the time was Richard Poore (died 15 April 1237), who lived almost to see the new building finished. Fees for construction came from canons and vicars of the diocese annually until the building was completed. (Legend that Bishop Poore shot an arrow that hit a deer, and where the deer died was chosen as the new site, cannot be substantiated.)

The first of its 70,000 tons of stone were laid down on 28 April 1220 by the 3rd Earl of Salisbury William Longespée, an  illegitimate son of King Henry II, and his wife. Remarkably for a structure of it size, it was completed in 38 years, which led to a consistency of design sometimes lacking in cathedrals that took generations and had multiple architects over time. It also took 3000 tons of timber and 450 tons of lead. The spire (a later addition, in 1320) and tower alone used 6400 tons of stone and would have collapsed like many other spires if not for the addition of buttresses and anchor plates (iron braces holding stones together). Sir Christopher Wren in 1668 added tie beams above the crossing (where the nave and apse intersect, above which stood the tower), which also helped.

The copy of the Magna Carta—incidentally the best preserved of the four surviving originals—came to Salisbury because one of the men given the task of distributing copies of the document, Elias of Dereham, was also a stonemason who oversaw the cathedral's construction and became a canon of Salisbury.

The famous clock, thought to be the oldest working clock in the world, has no face. Early clocks did not have hands; rather they noted the hour by ringing a bell. It was used regularly until 1884, when it was placed in storage and forgotten. Found again in 1928, it was restored in 1956 and works to this day.

I mentioned Bishop Richard Poore who oversaw most of the building of the cathedral. There is a statue of him in one of the many niches in the cathedral. He did arguably much more important work at Salisbury than building a new cathedral, which I'll tell you about tomorrow.

Gargoyles!

Large stone buildings intended to last for centuries, such as examples of Gothic Architecture, would be exposed to ages and ages of rainwater running down the sides and eroding the mortar. The solution was to devise a channel that would carry water away from the side of the building. The channel was thought of as a "throat" or "gullet" carrying water, and the French term for that was gargouille from the root gar "to swallow."

Not all gargoyles are waterspouts. In Italian architecture, a distinction is made between the carved creature used as a waterspout and called a gargolla or garguglia, and a carving designed simply to carry water away from the building, which is called gronda sporgente, literally "protruding gutter."

A late-14th century legend of St. Romanus explained the origin of the term as the name of a dragon; a good story, but pretty silly.

Long before the Romanus legend, Bernard of Clairvaux in the 12th century commented on gargoyles:

What are these fantastic monsters doing in the cloisters before the eyes of the brothers as they read? What is the meaning of these unclean monkeys, these strange, savage lions and monsters? To what purpose are here placed these creatures, half beast, half man or these spotted tigers? I see several bodies with one head and several heads with one body. Here is a quadruped with a serpent's head; there a fish with a quadruped's head; then again an animal: half horse, half goat... Surely, if we do not blush for such absurdities, we should at least regret what we have spent on them.

The origin of gargoyles that were not waterspouts is up for debate: Bernard doesn't seem to know why they were there. One theory is that they were illustrations of sin or evil, designed to make you glad you were a good Christian. Another thought is that they guarded the church.

If a carving of a creature was not a waterspout, it was a grotesque. The medieval grotesque needs its own explanation, which you will get tomorrow.

Motte-and-bailey

Norman cathedral design wasn't the only architectural style introduced into England after 1066. The fortification style called motte-and-bailey came along with the new ruling class.

The Normans were building these around Northern Europe at least a generation prior to 1066, and some archaeological evidence in Vincy, in northern France, suggests the first motte-and-bailey existed there as early as 979CE.

So what exactly is a motte and what is a bailey? The motte was a mound topped with a structure for defense. A bailey comes from the Norman-French baille and simply means a low yard. In Castles: Their Construction and History, Sidney Toy quotes a description by a Frenchman around 1130 on construction:

[they would make] a mound of earth as high as they can and dig a ditch about it as wide and deep as possible. The space on top of the mound is enclosed by a palisade of very strong hewn logs, strengthened at intervals by as many towers as their means can provide. Inside the enclosure is a citadel, or keep, which commands the whole circuit of the defences. The entrance to the fortress is by means of a bridge, which, rising from the outer side of the moat and supported on posts as it ascends, reaches to the top of the mound. [p.53]

There was tremendous variation in mottes. Anywhere from three to 30 meters high can be found—but 30 was far from the average. Two-thirds of those built in England and Wales were under 5 meters tall, and only 7% were more than 10 meters. Compared to the soaring heights of the cathedral-building program, the military structures put up by the Normans were significantly less visually impressive.

Making an aesthetic or religious impact was not the point, however. Showing "who's the boss" and preparing for possible uprisings and defensive needs were more important. Tomorrow I'll talk more specifically about how William's castle-building affected English towns and countryside.

Anglo-Norman Culture

We have looked at the influence on the language in England when it suffered an influx of Norman-French population and administration. This was inevitable, but was not what you would call deliberate. William of Normandy (more commonly known to modern readers as William the Conqueror) did not decree as the new king "Now we start changing the language!"

There were, however, more overt actions taken that demonstrated to the Anglo-Saxons how different things would be from now on. I am going to give you an example using two pictures.

St. John's Church in Escombe is one of four existing Anglo-Saxon churches in England. Built about 670CE with roughly dressed stones, the nave is 43 feet long and 14 feet wide. Contrast that with the New Romney Church tower of the Church of St. Nicholas. Built mid-12th century, it is a typical Norman church, and towers over any buildings nearby, including any Anglo-Saxon structures. Below you'll see a second photo that gives you a better idea of its size.

During William's reign (1066-1087), in a single generation, at least 15 cathedrals were begun, 13 of which stand today. Imagine the culture shock as the newcomers saw these mammoth structures going up and up, dwarfing their own architectural accomplishments.

Deliberate actions, as I said, but was the reason for the building fervor to intimidate the locals? There are other ways to say "We are in charge" than showing off fine Caen marble from your homeland and saying "We worship God better than you." Why giant cathedrals?

Turns out, William probably had a personal rather than a public reason to make attempts to please God. William was illegitimate (one of his epithets is William the Bastard). That's probably not why he built churches, but it was one reason given initially by Matilda of Flanders for refusing his offer of marriage.  She had a better reason for turning him down: their union would violate current laws of consanguinity.

The laws of consanguinity established by the church at that time forbade unions of people within seven generations of relatedness. William was Matilda's third cousin (once removed). We don't know what arguments he used to overcome her objections, but they did marry about 1051, and the flagship he sailed in to England, the Mora, was a gift from Matilda. Some scholars think his building campaign was motivated by appeasing God for all the death caused in the battle for England, for marrying someone to whom he was closely related, and because of a little guilt over taking the throne of England when there was a person who might have had a better claim.

Was everything the Normans built on such a large scale? No. Many defensive structures were not as grand as the churches. Tomorrow let's look at motte-and-bailey.

The Ottonian Renaissance

Although we use the term "renaissance" to refer primarily to a rebirth of art and culture that started in 14th century Italy and spread throughout Europe, the truth is that there were several rebirths of culture between the Fall of Rome and the 14th century. I discussed this a decade ago here. One such rebirth took place during the Ottonians in Germany in the 10th century.

Part of this was not so much a rebirth as an influx of culture from the east: the Byzantine Empire maintained some of what Western Europe "lost" during those centuries. When Otto I married his son, Otto II, to Theophanu, the daughter of the Byzantine Emperor John I Tzimiskes, he opened the door to Byzantine art and increased commerce. Another important figure involved was Gerbert of Aurillac, who became Pope Sylvester II during the reign of Otto III.

Sylvester II introduced the abacus for computation, and wooden terrestrial spheres for the study of the movement of planets and constellations. He composed De rationalis et ratione uti (Of the rational and the use of reason) and dedicated it to Otto III. Promoting reason over faith was an important step in the study of the sciences. Sylvester also promoted the expansion of abbey libraries, particularly at Bobbio Abbey (where St. Columbanus wound up earlier), which had almost 600 works.

Arts and architecture also stand out in an examination of the Ottonian Renaissance. The revival of the Holy Roman Empire brought inspiration to think on a grander scale and create art and buildings that reflected the grandeur to which the Ottonians believed they were heir. Large bronze doors on churches and gilded crosses became more common. Ottonian patronage of monasteries produced grand illuminated manuscripts. One of the most famous scriptoria was Reichenau, which produced Hermann of Reichenau. This is also the period of the literary output of Hrotsvitha of Gandersheim.

A campaign of renovating churches and cathedrals also took place. (The illustration is an ivory plaque showing Otto I on the left, shown smaller than the saints, presenting Magdeburg Cathedral to Christ.) Longer naves and apses were inspired by Roman/Byzantine basilica. Many of these church designs and re-designs came form the hand of Otto I's brother, Bruno the Great. Bruno extended the cathedral in Cologne to rival the size of St. Peter's in Rome (Cologne Cathedral burned down in 1248, alas). He also built a church dedicated to St. Martin of Tours.

Ivory carving and cloisonné enamels were also widely produced in this era. A major workshop for cloisonné enamels was established by Archbishop Egbert of Trier, using a Byzantine technique of "sunken" enamel, where thin gold wire was soldered to a base, and colored glass melted into the spaces, as opposed to the original style of affixing gemstones as an inlay.

I find Ottonian art, though lovely, does not tickle my interest as much as those "wooden terrestrial spheres" of Pope Sylvester, so I'm going to look into those for next time.

Villard de Honnecourt's Machines

I've mentioned Villard de Honecourt back in 2012; he is so worth another look. Anything we know about him is entirely incidental. Around 1225-1235, he traveled around Europe, and went as far as Hungary, sketching artwork, buildings, machines, animals and other items of interest to him along the way—250 separate items sketched in all. His sketches have prompted us to assume he was an engineer and/or architect. (Panofsky obviously assumed architect; see the previous post.) He sketched various figures that were clearly on the facades of cathedrals, as well as floor plans and elevations of cathedrals. He had a fascination for machines, however. 

One of his drawings, pictured here, is for a perpetual motion machine. He has captioned it: Often have experts striven to make a wheel turn of its own accord. Here is a way to do it with an uneven number of mallets and with quicksilver.

He also made simplified drawings of a machine for cutting the tops of piles under water when creating a pier, for straightening a sagging house, for bracing the spokes while making a wheel, and more. And here's another set of machines.

Starting from the top, his notes describe a saw that operates itself, a crossbow that won't miss, engines for lifting heavy weights, and how to make an eagle that turns toward the deacon when he preaches.

Despite the above implication that you can learn a lot from his drawings, an early theory that he intended these drawing as teaching tools has been dismissed since, other than the drawings themselves, there are no details regarding construction or operation.

His collection passed through various hands, some of whom have written their names on pages, and eventually came into the possession of the Bibliothèque National de France in the winter of 1795-96. If you want to purchase a facsimile edition, or at least view a brief video of one, click here.

I think some of his sketches taken from life should get some exposure. See you tomorrow.

Scholasticism and Gothic Architecture

There is a 20th century art historian who has appeared in two posts because of his eye-opening contributions to the field in the 1940s: here where he explained multiple renaissances, and here where he pinpointed the birth of gothic architecture and the motivating factor behind it. (I recommend you check those links before you read further.) He followed those in 1951 with a lecture called "Gothic Architecture and Scholasticism."

He noted that gothic architecture originated and flourished in the "100-mile zone around Paris" and was contemporaneous with the growth and spread of scholasticism. This would have been interesting enough on its own as an observation, but he went further, insisting there was:

A connection between Gothic art and Scholasticism which is more concrete than a mere "parallelism"...the connection which I have in mind is a genuine cause-and-effect relation.

We can extrapolate some connections ourselves without looking further into Panofsky: the architect and the scholastic were two of the most educated people in the community. Both, in their own way, were blending the religious (a site for worship, church doctrine) with something more "grounded" (a complex building, logical reasoning).

Panofsky also sees the scholastic trend toward categorization and chapter/sub-chapter organization of thought in the arch>smaller arch layering of the typical Gothic elevation (see the illustration). Likewise, he sees the desire to match scholastic clarification in the large windows that allowed more light than the previous Romanesque style, and the intellectual desire for getting at the "unvarnished truth" in the exposed buttresses.

He concludes with one more observation:

...which shows that at least some of the French thirteenth-century architects did think and act in strictly Scholastic terms. In Villard de Honnecourt’s “Album” there is to be found the groundplan of an “ideal” chevet* which he and another master, Pierre de Corbie, had devised, according to the slightly later inscription, inter se disputando. Here, then, we have two High Gothic architects discussing a quaestio, and a third one referring to this discussion by the specifically Scholastic term disputare instead of colloqui, deliberare, or the like. And what is the result of this disputatio? A chevet which combines, as it were, all possible Sics with all possible Nons.

In other words (Panofsky uses some Latin terms analogous to the lectio and quaestio and disputatio explained in the previous post), de Honnecourt and Corbie, who are not scholastics, are reaching an ideal design/conclusion using the methods standardized by scholastics. The Latin terms in his last sentence allude to the scholastic Peter Abelard's "Sic et Non" ("Yes or No") in which he discusses 158 contradictory points among church father writings. 

You can download a digital copy of Panofsky's work with illustrations here.

But what's this "Album" of Villard de Honnecourt's that he mentions? That's an excellent question. Stay tuned.

*A chevet is an apse with an ambulatory giving access behind the high altar to a series of chapels set in bays. See the second illustration.

Medieval Architecture

7th c. Asturian Church of Santa Cristina de Lena, Spain

This will be a brief introduction to the styles of medieval architecture that existed over the centuries. They are given names to represent the eras, but keep in mind that there was no firm dividing line between the different eras. In order to compare apples to apples, we will look at church architecture for examples of the evolution of building styles.

Early Christian
Prior to a uniform style of architecture for churches, christian churches often simply appropriated pagan temples of worship. One of the most famous buildings of antiquity, the Parthenon, was converted to a christian church just before 600CE, becoming the Church of the Parthenos Maria [Greek: "Virgin Mary"]. A common style was the basilica [Greek "royal"], which was originally a large building for public gatherings. Basilicas had a long main aisle (the nave), supported by columns and flanked by side aisles. A wide area at one end, the apse, became the location of the altar. A basilica often had a dome. This basic floor plan became popular for churches, especially in the Eastern Empire. The most famous basilica is the Hagia Sophia [Greek: "Holy Wisdom"] in Istanbul (was Constantinople).

Pre-Romanesque
This term is often used to denote the collection of different styles that arose during certain dynasties or in different cultures, such as Merovingian, Carolingian, Ottonian, Asturian, Norse; it is a catch-all term that includes the Early Christian as well.

Romanesque
Romanesque is a modern term that describes the style that was prevalent in the 11th and 12th centuries throughout Europe. Brought to England by William the Conqueror, there we call it "Norman." Romanesque buildings are known by their massive stone structure with barrel vaults and round (or sometimes slightly pointed) arches. Tourists can experience Thanksgiving in a Romanesque building described here.

Gothic
Gothic architecture has appeared here. Its chief elements are soaring height, large glass windows allowing more light than previous styles, pointed arches, (often) flying buttresses to support the thin walls. The first church to combine several of these elements into the first truly "Gothic" church was the Abbey of St.-Denis. This style is what folk most often picture when they think of medieval churches.

About eight miles south of St.-Denis is the world's most recognizable Gothic cathedral, Notre Dame, which suffered from a devastating fire a couple weeks ago. I want to say something about that next.

A Sultan's Observatory

The Ulugh Beg Observatory Museum, built in 1970

Ulugh Beg is the more familiar name of Mīrzā Muhammad Tāraghay bin Shāhrukh (22 March 1394 - 27 October 1449). "Ulugh Beg" is more of a nickname, meaning "Great Ruler."

He was a grandson of Tamerlane who became sultan in Samarkand while still a teenager. He decided to turn Samarkand into an intellectual center, building a university and inviting scholars to take up residence.

He also built the Ulugh Beg Observatory in 1420, where some of the finest Islamic astronomers worked and studied, but only those whom Ulugh personally approved. The picture here is a modern structure on the site of the original, which was destroyed by religious fanatics in 1449. An excavation uncovered its primary feature—a giant sextant:

The so-called "sextant" obviously would have extended well above the ground (as the drawing shows) and likely was closer to being a quadrant. As Krisciunas points out in his interesting discussion of the instrument, it "was by far the largest meridian instrument ever built." Fragments of the curved measuring track have survived with markings for around 20 degrees; this is about the highest point that observations likely would have been made. The "sextant" would have been used to measure the angle of elevation of major heavenly bodies, especially at the time of the winter and summer solstices. Light

from the given body, passing through a controlled opening, would have shone on the curved track, which is marked very precisely with degrees and minutes. "It could achieve a resolution of several seconds of arc--on the order of a six-hundredth of a degree, or the diameter of an American penny at a distance of more than half a kilometer" (Krisciunas). It is not clear whether more than the sun and moon could have been measured in this fashion, since planets, for example, would not have cast sufficient light. [link]

Building a giant permanent astronomical instrument was a unique idea at the time—remember that this was 200 years prior to the invention of a telescope. He created a catalog of over 1018 stars, discovering and correcting many inaccuracies in the star tables created by Ptolemy. Copies of these star charts are on display at the Ulugh Beg Observatory Museum; the originals are in the Bodleian Library in Oxford.

Haloes

(photo credit Conor Hogan, 2014)

The picture here is medieval, although not from the Middle Ages. It's of the dome of Our Lady of Victory Church in Lackawanna, NY. It was taken and sent to me by someone who asked "Why is the halo triangular?" It turns out that there have been many ways over the centuries to express saintliness or godliness through the use of different styles of halo.

"Halo" comes from the Greek ἅλως, which means the "shining disk" of the sun or moon.* There have been many representations of haloes in art throughout the whole of art history. Sometimes they are represented as rays shining out from the head of a special person. Often they are circular. The circle may be portrayed as a disk behind the saint's head, looking like a large dinner plate floating so that his or her head is perfectly centered in the circle. In the Renaissance (see the top image here), when realistic perspective became a goal in art, the halo was often shown as if it were a perfectly round and flat disc that was attached to the back of the head, so that at an angle you would see it as an elliptical hat (check out the fancy hats here). Later, it was fashionable to portray it as a simple lighted "hoop," as we see in this 15th-century painting.

There were some special haloes, used in only certain circumstances. Members of the Holy Trinity could be seen with a halo that had three rays (or sets of three lines) extending from the head to the circumference. We see that in the diagram to the right. A halo made of stars was used only for the Blessed Virgin Mary (here is a sample, connecting her to the EU flag), because of the woman whose head was surrounded by 12 stars mentioned in the Book of Revelation who gives birth to the child who was to rule all nations.

Which leaves the triangle. The triangle also represented the Trinity, but was used solely for depicting God the Father. This was perhaps because the triangle is the obvious symbol for the Trinity. It could be because God the Father rules in Heaven, and "heaven" or the area above the earth was sometimes represented symbolically as a triangle. Earth's symbol was a square, due to the four cardinal directions and the "four corners of the earth," and if you look from one horizon to straight up and then down to the far horizon, you have drawn a triangle with your eyes.

So, the church in Lackawanna, NY, drew from some old symbolism for the depiction of God on the dome; clearly, it was not built by iconoclasts.

*You can see examples of the meteorological phenomena that inspired the word here.

The New Church

Explanation of cross-in-square from this fascinating site.

Today is May Day, and the anniversary of the consecration of the Nea Ekklesia [Greek: "New Church"] in 880.

It was built by Emperor Basil I the Macedonian (c.830 - 886). Although he started as a peasant, he advanced politically until he was in a position to usurp the throne of Emperor Michael III in 867. He set out to create a new golden age of Byzantine art, and he wound up being considered one of the greatest Byzantine emperors. In his desire to reproduce the glory of the reign of Justinian I, he started a building campaign. The pinnacle of this campaign was the Nea Ekklesia, which he considered his answer to the magnificent Hagia Sophia.

One of the things that made it "new" was the floor plan, something called "cross-in-square." Typical churches before that time—and, truthfully, after that time as well—were laid out like a cross, longer than they were wide. Nea Ekklesia broke that mold. Byzantine architecture had already shown a preference and flair for domes, and mounting them on a square base with a feature called a pendentive. Nea Ekklesia was a new style that filled out the cross shape by centering it in a square and putting several domes over the four additional sections. (See the illustration above for an example of a standard cross-in-square.)

As important as the Nea was, it was eventually turned into a monastery (called, perhaps predictably, "New Monastery") in the 11th century. After the Ottomans conquered the Byzantine Empire in 1453, the building was used to store gunpowder. It was destroyed in 1490 when it was struck by lightning.

The Haruspex Stone

The inexpertly carved stone

The city of Bath in England has been an important location for human beings for millenia. The spring there produces 240,000 gallons of 114° (Fahrenheit) water every day. This phenomenon amazed our ancestors; they attributed it to divine forces, most notably the goddess Sulis. When the Romans came, they named the place Aquæ Sulis [Latin: The waters of Sulis], and equated Sulis to Minerva, the Roman goddess of wisdom. The Romans used the spring for an elaborate system of channels and pumps and rooms for bathing, both for relaxation and for health.

In 1965, beneath the Grand Pump Room of the Roman complex, at the level of a Roman-era temple to Sulis Minerva, the stone pictured here was discovered. The inscription reads "DEAE SVLI L MARCIVS MEMOR HARVSP DD" and stands for "To the goddess Sul, Lucius Marcus, a grateful Haruspex, donated out of his devotion."

The presence of a Haruspex in Bath raised eyebrows. A Haruspex [Latin (roughly): entrail observer] was one who predicted the future by examining the guts of animals (as well as other natural phenomena). This was a very old practice, known to Romans and before them the Etruscans. Its presence can be established in the East prior to Greco-Roman times as well. Haruspices (the plural) were not common—only 60 existed at a time—and practiced an art that, like astrology, not everyone believed in but that they might turn to for special occasions. The presence of a Haruspex in Bath in a location so far from Rome suggests how significant Bath/Aquæ Sulis was to the locals at that time.

Curiously, the inscription has been "edited." "MEMOR" is actually carved as "MEMR" with the "O" added above the second M. "HAR" is centered on its line, with "VSP" in smaller letters crammed afterward, throwing off the symmetry of the inscription. The "MEMOR" looks like a necessary edit after the carver's accidental omission of the "O." "HAR" might have needed the addition because the rarity of the position meant the abbreviation wasn't familiar to people who didn't know that "HAR" meant a Haruspex. Another theory is that the carver simply was not very literate, and that Lucius Marcus had to have him edit the stone after the initial carving.

Cosmati Floors

Cosmati floor, Westminster Abbey church, during a recent cleaning.

When discussing the rebuilding of Westminster Abbey yesterday, I mentioned labor coming from outside of London; sometimes it came from far outside of London. Records mention workers named Matthew and Henry de Rems who likely came from Rheims in France. Richard Norman and Richard of Caen would have come from Normandy, probably for their expertise in stonework. Other expertise in stonework came from even farther away than Normandy. For in front of the high altar, Henry III commissioned a floor in the Cosmatesque style.

It wasn't known as "Cosmatesque" at the time; that is what we call it now, because the style was made popular by the Cosmati family of Rome. The Cosmati (members of whom were active for generations, from at least 1190 until at least 1303) used opus sectile [Latin: "cut work"] in stone to design intricate inlays. We know some dates for members of the family because they occasionally signed their work.

Cosmati floor from Rome.

The Cosmatesque floor in Westminster (created in 1268) is also signed, though not with a name known to be a member of the Cosmati family. A brass inscription proclaims (in Latin) "the third King Henry, the city, Odoricus and the abbot put these porphyry stones together." Another inscription reads "The spherical globe here shows the archetypal macrocosm." Explanation of the floor's symbolism has filled pages of speculation; you can find what Westminster itself has to say here.

A TV program made about the Cosmati floor during and after its recent restoration can be found on YouTube.

Building Westminster Abbey - Part 2

I started this here with the origins of what we now call "Westminster Abbey." A major rebuilding campaign began about 1245 by Henry III (1216-1272), who desired both to enhance the resting place of Edward the Confessor, whom he admired, and to create his own royal burial site. (Like Edward, Henry was buried in Westminster long before the construction was complete. Edward was re-interred in 1269 in a newly completed shrine.)

The task of reconstruction was enormous, and the fact that it took so long had nothing to do with a casual attitude to getting it done. The pace of some stages of work was staggering for the time. We have some of the records involved. Numbers of laborers fluctuated depending on the season and the finances available. There were some financial realities that caused occasional work stoppages. Only two people were paid a continuous wage: the two masters of the works, Master Henry and Master John of Gloucester.

Records for part of 1253 (end of April until early December, when most work would have paused for the winter), list the following workforce:

For wages of 39 white cutters [freestone masons] 14 marblers, 20 layers, 32 carpenters, together with John of St. Albans, 3 painters, 13 polishers, 19 smiths, 14 glaziers and 4 plumbers, £14 12s. For the wages of 150 laborers with Keepers, clerks and the charges of two carts daily £6 16s. [quoted in John Steane, The Archaeology of the Medieval English Monarchy]

The labor would have come from local hires or specialists who traveled from all over England to join the project. What about materials, however? The two Masters of the Works would travel to find suitable materials (we know this because the records showed them being paid double for travel expenses). For convenience, "buying local" would be best, and we know that many suppliers were London-based. For example, Richard of Eastcheap had apparently managed a monopoly on the wood used for scaffolding and ramps. Agnes of London not only was a major source of burnt lime used for concrete, she was responsible for organizing 440 cartloads of sand to the work site. Other references exist for two cartloads of charcoal provided by Roger of Barking, and carved stones from Roger of the Tower. Henry of Bridge supplied ironwork, especially nails. A 1265 record mentions a Richard who submitted a bill for 16.75 hundredweight* of lime. Some of these names re-occur for other building projects, such as the Tower of London.

The materials themselves would have come from all over. Some master masons came from Oxford, and   it is known that the Windsor Castle upgrade used stone quarried in Whately, a mere few miles from Oxford. Much of the material might have come from storage very close by: the southern end of London Bridge was home to a public works yard that maintained large stocks of timber, stone and ironwork to aid in the necessary upkeep of the Bridge.

*A hundredweight in England was approximately 116 pounds.

Winchester Cathedral Begins

One of the largest cathedrals in England—in fact, one of the longest Gothic cathedrals in Europe—Winchester has been through many changes. The original building (on a site just north of the present cathedral) was founded in 642 and over time came to hold the remains of several Saxon kings.

The very long nave of Winchester

William the Conqueror, wishing to show the strength of his Norman regime after 1066 (or wishing to placate God for any sins William might have committed) began a building campaign, replacing several Saxon churches all over England with great Gothic edifices.

He also needed men to guide the dioceses connected to the new structures. For Winchester, that would be his cousin and personal chaplain, Walkelin, who was consecrated bishop in 1070 for the express purpose of running Winchester. This nepotism benefited Walkelin, who was able to "pay it forward": he made his brother Simeon the prior of Winchester, putting him in charge of the monastery that had started in 971. He later helped Simeon become Abbot of Ely. Walkelin also later advanced his nephew Gerard to become Archbishop of York.

To build the new cathedral would take materials, and since all natural resources in England belonged to the king, it was up to the king to allocate them as he saw fit. William gave Walkelin access to Hempage Wood in Hampshire, granting him as much wood for timbers and scaffolding as carpenters could produce in four days and nights. Walkelin took no chances: he assembled an army of carpenters sufficient to cut down the entirety of Hempage.

The next time William passed through Hampshire, he was at first stunned to see no Hempage Wood, then enraged when he realized what had happened. He summoned Walkelin, who dressed himself in his poorest outfit and knelt at the king's feet, offering to give up his position if only the king and he could remain friends. William relented, saying "I was as much too liberal in my grant as you were too greedy in availing yourself of it."*

The new Winchester was completed in 1093, and a grand and joyous procession of monks carried the relics of saints (especially of St. Swithin, former bishop of Winchester and patron saint of the old church) from the old building to the new.

Under William Rufus, Walkelin supposedly refused to send the king a large sum he was requesting, because Walkelin knew he could not raise the sum with taxing (and oppressing) the poor in his diocese. Instead, the bishop prayed to be delivered from the difficulty he was in. Ten days later he died, on 3 January 1098.

*Annales de Wintonia [Annals of Winton], entry for 1086.

The Plan of St. Gall

In April 2013, near Meßkirch in southern Germany, construction will start on a monastery. It is expected to take 40 years to complete, because the builders will use 9th century tools to build it. This alone should be sufficient to ensure its celebrity on the Internet and in the hearts of medievalists.

But wait ... there's more. The design of the monastery complex is from a document that is 1200 years old. The Plan of St. Gall is a 122cm x 77.5cm manuscript that was discovered in 1844 when a pamphlet containing a 12th century life of St. Martin was unfolded. It shows the layout of 40 structures and spaces for gardens and orchards and a road. It includes 333 labels that identify the buildings and their purpose.

To be clear: the Plan of St. Gall isn't the actual layout of the monastery at St. Gall; the terrain wouldn't allow it. An inscription on the Plan tells us that it was a gift to the Abbot of St. Gall, Gozbertus (fl.816-837), who was responsible for having the monastery's church built in the 830s. According to the men* who brought the Plan to modern attention, it was based on a design made at two Carolingian reform synods held in 816 and 817 in Aachen intended to formalize Benedictine culture.

For modern scholars, its value is as a focal point for study about Carolingian monastic life and 9th century architecture. The ongoing "St. Gall Project," administered by the Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies at UCLA, is not only creating the to-scale dimensions and models of the structures, it is also re-creating digitally the libraries of the monasteries at St. Gall and Reichenau (mentioned here). Despite the idealized nature of the design, it does have a carefully laid out scale based on multiples (and halves) of the number 40. Clearly there was careful thought put into the design. By constructing the "ideal" Benedictine monastery based on the St. Gall manuscript, and re-creating the monastic complex including the written works that would have informed its inhabitants, the project hopes to gain grater insight to the culture and mindset of the early 9th century.

*Medievalist Walter Horn and architect Ernest Born produced a three-volume analysis of the document in 1979, The Plan of St. Gall (Berkeley, Calif., University of California Press).

Autumnal Equinox Lightshow

Holy Trinity Church in Barsham, Suffolk

The equinox, from Latin aequinoctium (the time of equal days and nights), the day twice each year when the amount of daylight and darkness equalizes. We are used to marking the solstices, because the longest day of sunlight and the shortest day in winter carry real-life significance for us. But the equinoxes in spring and fall rarely get the same attention.

But in Suffolk, England, in Holy Trinity Church in the tiny town of Barsham, the equinoxes have provided a special show since the Middle Ages—if one knew where to look.

To be truthful, the "special show" was forgotten for a long time because of some changes. Holy Trinity is an early church, using stone from Caen that tells us it was built post-1066, although the round tower is by many considered to be an earlier Saxon style. The church suffered when Henry VIII broke with Rome and made changes consistent with the new Anglican Church. A rood screen, an ornate partition between the main part of the church and the nave behind the altar, was torn down, and the large crucifix that hung on it was eliminated. In 1870, however, the vicar of Holy Trinity decided to rebuild the rood screen and restore the crucifix to the same spot it hung in centuries earlier. Unfortunately, the vicar also decided to hang a large painting over a narrow west window whose significance he did not realize.

On the equinoxes, light strikes the crucifix for 4 minutes

Then, in 1979, a fire destroyed the nave roof. During the reconstruction, someone took the painting down. Years later, during a mass at dusk on the autumnal equinox, someone saw it. Now that the church was restored to its original configuration, the narrow western window throws a shaft of light for 4 minutes each equinox—and only on the equinox—right onto the crucifix near the top of the rood screen.

It was easy to miss for several years: it doesn't show when there is cloud cover at twilight, and you need to be looking up. Now that the phenomenon has been re-discovered, however, the church is filled each equinox by people waiting to see the fascinating result of an unknown medieval architect who decided to use light to illuminate his art.

Chapel of Aachen

Charlemagne put serious effort into making his reign reminiscent of the grandeur that was the Roman Empire. He gathered scholars and artists from all over Europe, including Alcuin and Joseph Scottus and Paulus Diaconus and many others. Nothing was too advanced or grand to be attempted and supported. When it came to building a palace complex worthy of his dreams, in western Germany, in the city of Aachen, he called on Odo of Metz (742-814).

Floor Plan of Chapel of Aachen

All we really know of Odo is his name, mentioned in two places: by Charlemagne's contemporary biographer, and in an inscription around the dome of the Palatine Chapel he built that is the only part of the palace complex that remains. Now incorporated into the Cathedral of Aachen, it was designed after the still-standing basilica of San Vitale in Ravenna, Italy. San Vitale was built in the Byzantine style, and the Palatine Chapel in Germany has a very Byzantine feel: an octagonal shape, marble floor, striped arches and golden mosaics.

The Chapel was also an important repository for holy relics, which are still preserved in the Aachen Cathedral:

• the cloak of the Blessed Virgin;
• the swaddling-clothes of the Infant Jesus;
• the loin-cloth worn by Christ on the Cross;
• the cloth on which lay the head of St. John the Baptist after his beheading.*

...and the remains of Charlemagne himself.

The Chapel of Aachen became a point of controversy in the 20th century, however, for reasons no one could have foreseen during its construction. Its advanced construction—the high rounded arches, the height of the dome—are not seen again until the development of Romanesque architecture in the 11th century. Most historians attribute this to the skill of Odo of Metz. A German art historian, however, thinks it is evidence of one of the greatest conspiracy theories in the history of the world. I'll tell you about it tomorrow.

*These relics are shown every 7 years; next showing is in 2014. Make your travel plans now! (And hope the Lufthansa strike ends soon; right, Lois?)

4 Stages of Gothic—Revival

[This is Part 3; the other 3 parts address Gothic Culture & History, Gothic Architecture, and Fiction.]

Augustus W. Pugin

In 1740, the reputation of the term "Gothic" took an odd turn. The style of architecture mis-named Gothic had been thoroughly denigrated in the previous century, but an 18th century antiquarian trend toward discovering the past and a re-awakening of interest in traditional church views combined to create a movement that looked to the past for inspiration rather than the future.

The so-called "Gothic Revival" grew over time, and influenced art and architecture throughout Europe, and reached Australia, Southern Africa and the Americas. Its spiritual center was England, however, and it found its true champion in the artist, architect and critic Augustus Welby Pugin (1812-1852).

House of Lords, Westminster

Pugin's father was a draughtsman who came to England from France, married Catherine Welby, and settled down to write volumes on architecture—notably Specimens of Gothic Architecture and the three-volume Examples of Gothic Architecture—and to teach his son to draw. Pugin worked in his father's office in his youth, but eventually started getting work of his own. An early job was to design furniture for Windsor Castle. Years later, after dabbling in bringing furniture and carvings from Flanders to England, he was convinced to go into architecture. His business of supplying architectural pieces to people building in the Gothic style failed. He went back to designing for others. He was 18 years old.

At 22, he converted to Roman Catholicism, which lost him some business but introduced him to new contacts. He was employed to make alterations and additions to Alton Towers by the 16th Earl of Shrewsbury, and then to build St. Giles Catholic Church, and then to design the Catholic church of Sts. Peter and Paul in Newport. His reputation grew, and he designed houses and churches and furnishings to satisfy the fans of the Revival. The interior of the House of Lords in Westminster is one of his most visible achievements.

But just because something can be done doesn't mean it should be done. The Gothic Revival under Pugin left nothing out: any feature of Gothic architecture could be re-used, no matter its original purpose. The Pugin chair pictured here, for instance, reminds me of one at the Pugin exhibit "A Gothic Passion" that I saw at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London in the early 1990s.* The back is carved as if it were the frame of a stained glass window. It employs the pointed arch that was such an important development in Gothic architecture because of the way it distributed the weight of the stone. Here, something that was vitally functional is made purely decorative. The hanging finials in the front of the chair are another architectural detail that, here, would be functional only if they were intended to impede the swinging of a small child's legs. It seems to me that much of the Gothic Revival style was intended to be as ornamental as possible, employing details that once had purpose but are, in this case, only something to look at, and that possibly make the object less comfortable.

*This may be the first time I have inserted my opinion and personal observation into a post, so I ask your forgiveness if it detracts from the information. I had a very strong negative reaction when I first saw Pugin's work, particularly a chair that had pointed arches upside-down carved into its back.

4 Stages of Gothic—Architecture

[This is Part 2; the other 3 parts address Gothic Culture & History, the Gothic Revival, and Fiction.]

Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574), artist and famous for his work on the lives of artists, once wrote:

Then arose new architects who after the manner of their barbarous nations erected buildings in that style which we call Gothic.

Gothic Cathedral of Chartres

John Evelyn (1620-1706), a prolific and opinionated English gardener, said of the style:

The ancient Greek and Roman architecture answered all the perfections required in a faultless and accomplished building ... [but Goths] ... introduced in their stead a certain fantastical and licentious manner of building, which we have since call'd Modern (or Gothic rather) congestions of heavy, dark, melancholy, monkish piles, without any just proportion, use or beauty, compar'd with the truly Antient. [A Parallel of the Ancient Architecture with the Modern, 1664]

Because the Goths had conquered Rome, they and their cousins the Vandals (whose name became a noun we still use) were reviled by those who revered Classical Greco-Roman culture and art. Later generations (like Vasari's and Evelyn's) used "Gothic" as pejorative. For modern art historians, however, Gothic architecture is less "barbarous" than the earlier style which we call "Romanesque."

Romanesque Cathedral, Lisbon

Romanesque is sometimes called Norman architecture: William of Normandy left England dotted with massive stone churches and castles that dominated—both architecturally and psychologically—the small neighboring wooden structures of the English people whom he had just conquered. The size of the buildings required a great deal of structural support. Barrel vaulting and semi-circular windows required thick walls and clustered columns to fight gravity as the weight of the arch pushed down and outward.

Gothic architecture was an evolutionary change created by the adoption of a few simple techniques. The pointed arch transferred the weight of the stonework down the sides of the framework, rather than pushing the supports outward. This allowed walls to be thinner. External supports called "flying buttresses" supported the walls and roof further, allowing larger windows. Both features let the architects build upward, making towers and roofs that swept heavenward. The larger windows brought more light inside, which was seen as a way to glorify God's splendor. This is all considered an improvement in sophistication—to those of us not living in the 17th century, that is.

Any historical Goths shown a picture of Gothic architecture would not understand why it was named after their culture. The use of the term "Gothic" gets even more removed from reality, however, a generation after John Evelyn spoke so vehemently against the style.

[to be continued]