regular associations modelled after the monastic orders, introducing into them the reforms already adopted by Saint Benedict. The institution of the order of canons was due to these efforts. The plan of organizing the secular clergy into chapters was carried into all the other provinces, where it had been equally called for. In 817 the council of Aix-la-Chapelle substituted a new rule for that adopted by Chrodegangus, and this was observed by the western churches till the twelfth century.
A period of prosperity immediately set in: “When the priests were seen closely confined and disciplined, and leading as regular and severe lives as the monks, the popular mass felt a great increase of respect for them and a new impulse was given to their own fervor. Gifts flowed into the chapters as into the monasteries. Never, perhaps, had so many churches been founded, never had they been so liberally endowed; most of the cathedrals grew rich rapidly, and many donations were made specifically to the canonical bodies, which had become a means of edification and objects of admiration. ”
A similar revival took place within the monasteries themselves, under the leadership of St. Benedict of Anian, at Gellone, on the island of Barbe, near Lyons, at Saint-Savin in Poitou, at Cormery in Touraine, at Mauermünster in Alsace, and elsewhere.
It was through the cooperation of the Carlovingian kings and the support of their authority that such a reform could be accomplished in the face of great local opposition from various quarters. In the struggle which they had gone into against the feudal regime, the kings had formed alliances with the home clergy, on the one hand, and with the papal powers on the other. For this reason, their conduct was continually marked by inconsistencies, although the aim of all their efforts was the same at bottom, namely, the extension and consolidation of their own dominion. Sometimes we see them acknowledging the supremacy of the Bishop of Rome over the turbulent clergy; sometimes, lending their sanction to the feudal tendencies of these same ecclesiastics, to separatist independence and to the organization of local committees and provincial assemblies, thus seeking to resist the encroachments of the Romish court; Hincmar found favor in their eyes, the Archbishop of Rheims, who, learning that the Pope contemplated a visit to France where he threatened to excommunicate the bishops, pronounced these memorable words: “If he comes for the purpose of excommunicating, excommunicated he will go away. ”
The spirit of independence, the “ individual ” spirit inherent in the races of the North was not subdued; it might be seen breaking out afresh, on every occasion, in the higher ranks of the clergy who, from that time on, came from the conquering race. No permanency of organization was compatible with these persistent tendencies toward disaggregation. Abuses and excesses consequently crept in again, which called for a new reform. This was attempted in the eleventh century by Gregory VII, a vigorous, despotic prelate who aimed at the reestablishment of unity and centralization in religious society by means of force, as Charlemagne had aimed to do for civil and political society: Gregory VII’s object was to reform the Church, and through the Church, civil society, — to raise the standard of morality, justice and order. To attain his end, he counted on the spiritual and temporal authority of the Holy See, which the Frankish kings themselves had helped to place on a firm foundation, and it was intended that the reform should redound to the glory of the papal power.
The abuses had now become so great that the need of reform was universally felt. While the secular clergy were undergoing transformation under the powerful hand of Gregory VII, the reforms of Saint Norbert among the canons, of Robert of Molême at Cîteaux and of Saint Bernard at Cluny were going on.
This new period of prosperity for the Church occupies all of the twelfth century and the first half of the thirteenth. It may be said that at this time the religious power attained its zenith, as the Crusades which were due to its mighty impetus, bear witness. But at the same time, as we shall see farther on, the causes had been developed which were about to check this impulse, abate religious zeal and lead at length to the ruin of that theocratic organization of which Gregory VII had dreamed.
RISE OF RELIGIOUS ARCHITECTURE IN THE MIDDLE AGES.
We have now covered the first period of our researches. After the downfall consequent upon the invasions of the fifth
century and the succeeding centuries the conquering tribes as we have seen, settled in the country and little by little established the feudal regime which offered to barbarian society such organization as it was fitted to accept; side by side with these tribes, as has also been pointed out, the conquered people retained in part their primitive institutions, struggling desperately to defend their social and political existence, and, whenever a semblance of stability reappeared, giving signs of a deathless vitality.
On the other hand, religious society passed under the rude dominion of the barbarians; its leaders, the men of influence and authority, were thereafter to be drawn from the conquering race. Excesses of the gravest kind had well-nigh caused its ruin; but at the moment which we have now reached, energetic reforms had assured to it an era of real prosperity.
In a word, then, a social state, to say the least, tolerable, had at last been attained, and we must now ask ourselves whether, in view of the transformation already effected in the long period just passed over, a new art could have been conceived, what its nature might be, and where it would be likely to appear.
For a first time, at the end of the eighth century and the beginning of the ninth, Charlemagne had secured to the world a brief period of comparative peace, under a powerful and complete organization, modelled on that of the Roman people, which, for centuries even after its decline, had dazzled the eyes of the barbarians. A sort of pause in the incessant convulsions ensued; could a new civilization now rise out of the accumulated debris? Could that artistic efflorescence take place, which may be looked for in the conditions of peace and prosperity attendant upon the appearance of a new civilization?
Such hopes would have been premature. The advent of the Carlovingians was, in fact, merely a fresh invasion of the Franks of Austrasia, who drove back before them the Franks of Neustria; the ninth century, moreover, witnessed still another invasion, that of the Normans. In spite of the efforts of that colossal personality, Charlemagne, the instability consequent upon the disordered condition of affairs, was not sufficiently overcome for the creation, at that time, of a social state possessed of the elements of permanency.
Could a genuine revival of the Gallo-Roman civilization be counted on under these conditions? Assuredly not, for the situation of the subject peoples soon became so precarious that it was impossible for the traditional arts of Gaul to flourish once more among them.
Again, could such a degree of civilization be expected in the conquering race as would enable it to produce, in its turn, a creative art? Assuredly not, for the barbarians were as yet not fixed to the soil which they had just conquered, but were encamped there, on the defensive and always on the verge of fresh combats among themselves.
The conditions out of which a new architecture could grow were not yet realized. The lull that came under the reign of Charlemagne was, however, favorable to the arts; notably, it prevented Latin architecture from going to decay and disappearing immediately. Under Charlemagne’s powerful protection the arts, as well as letters, were stopped in the downward path which would, perhaps, have led them to irretrievable ruin; owing to his encouragement and cooperation, and to the relations which he maintained uninterruptedly with the Orient, with the Byzantine and the Lombard world, Latin architecture could draw from yet living sources the vitality necessary to carry it through a few more centuries.
So true is all this that, on reaching the eleventh and twelfth centuries, we encounter conditions of superior stability and renewed prosperity, under which a genuine revival of Latin architecture took place, a revival which furnished a final and most remarkable florescence under the name of Romanesque architecture.
We will not dwell here upon its characteristics, nor upon its origin and developements, as these have already been presented under another head. We will merely remind the reader of the peculiar features of the style in the region lying to the south of the Loire — a region which had remained Latin in race, traditions and institutions — and in the section of the country above this stream, where the northern races, whether Franks or Normans, had the preponderance. It seems to us beyond question that Romanesque architecture originated in the Latin district, in the region where the oldest, the purest and the most finished examples of the style are to be found. But, as constant communication was kept up between the two sections, it likewise
A period of prosperity immediately set in: “When the priests were seen closely confined and disciplined, and leading as regular and severe lives as the monks, the popular mass felt a great increase of respect for them and a new impulse was given to their own fervor. Gifts flowed into the chapters as into the monasteries. Never, perhaps, had so many churches been founded, never had they been so liberally endowed; most of the cathedrals grew rich rapidly, and many donations were made specifically to the canonical bodies, which had become a means of edification and objects of admiration. ”
A similar revival took place within the monasteries themselves, under the leadership of St. Benedict of Anian, at Gellone, on the island of Barbe, near Lyons, at Saint-Savin in Poitou, at Cormery in Touraine, at Mauermünster in Alsace, and elsewhere.
It was through the cooperation of the Carlovingian kings and the support of their authority that such a reform could be accomplished in the face of great local opposition from various quarters. In the struggle which they had gone into against the feudal regime, the kings had formed alliances with the home clergy, on the one hand, and with the papal powers on the other. For this reason, their conduct was continually marked by inconsistencies, although the aim of all their efforts was the same at bottom, namely, the extension and consolidation of their own dominion. Sometimes we see them acknowledging the supremacy of the Bishop of Rome over the turbulent clergy; sometimes, lending their sanction to the feudal tendencies of these same ecclesiastics, to separatist independence and to the organization of local committees and provincial assemblies, thus seeking to resist the encroachments of the Romish court; Hincmar found favor in their eyes, the Archbishop of Rheims, who, learning that the Pope contemplated a visit to France where he threatened to excommunicate the bishops, pronounced these memorable words: “If he comes for the purpose of excommunicating, excommunicated he will go away. ”
The spirit of independence, the “ individual ” spirit inherent in the races of the North was not subdued; it might be seen breaking out afresh, on every occasion, in the higher ranks of the clergy who, from that time on, came from the conquering race. No permanency of organization was compatible with these persistent tendencies toward disaggregation. Abuses and excesses consequently crept in again, which called for a new reform. This was attempted in the eleventh century by Gregory VII, a vigorous, despotic prelate who aimed at the reestablishment of unity and centralization in religious society by means of force, as Charlemagne had aimed to do for civil and political society: Gregory VII’s object was to reform the Church, and through the Church, civil society, — to raise the standard of morality, justice and order. To attain his end, he counted on the spiritual and temporal authority of the Holy See, which the Frankish kings themselves had helped to place on a firm foundation, and it was intended that the reform should redound to the glory of the papal power.
The abuses had now become so great that the need of reform was universally felt. While the secular clergy were undergoing transformation under the powerful hand of Gregory VII, the reforms of Saint Norbert among the canons, of Robert of Molême at Cîteaux and of Saint Bernard at Cluny were going on.
This new period of prosperity for the Church occupies all of the twelfth century and the first half of the thirteenth. It may be said that at this time the religious power attained its zenith, as the Crusades which were due to its mighty impetus, bear witness. But at the same time, as we shall see farther on, the causes had been developed which were about to check this impulse, abate religious zeal and lead at length to the ruin of that theocratic organization of which Gregory VII had dreamed.
RISE OF RELIGIOUS ARCHITECTURE IN THE MIDDLE AGES.
We have now covered the first period of our researches. After the downfall consequent upon the invasions of the fifth
century and the succeeding centuries the conquering tribes as we have seen, settled in the country and little by little established the feudal regime which offered to barbarian society such organization as it was fitted to accept; side by side with these tribes, as has also been pointed out, the conquered people retained in part their primitive institutions, struggling desperately to defend their social and political existence, and, whenever a semblance of stability reappeared, giving signs of a deathless vitality.
On the other hand, religious society passed under the rude dominion of the barbarians; its leaders, the men of influence and authority, were thereafter to be drawn from the conquering race. Excesses of the gravest kind had well-nigh caused its ruin; but at the moment which we have now reached, energetic reforms had assured to it an era of real prosperity.
In a word, then, a social state, to say the least, tolerable, had at last been attained, and we must now ask ourselves whether, in view of the transformation already effected in the long period just passed over, a new art could have been conceived, what its nature might be, and where it would be likely to appear.
For a first time, at the end of the eighth century and the beginning of the ninth, Charlemagne had secured to the world a brief period of comparative peace, under a powerful and complete organization, modelled on that of the Roman people, which, for centuries even after its decline, had dazzled the eyes of the barbarians. A sort of pause in the incessant convulsions ensued; could a new civilization now rise out of the accumulated debris? Could that artistic efflorescence take place, which may be looked for in the conditions of peace and prosperity attendant upon the appearance of a new civilization?
Such hopes would have been premature. The advent of the Carlovingians was, in fact, merely a fresh invasion of the Franks of Austrasia, who drove back before them the Franks of Neustria; the ninth century, moreover, witnessed still another invasion, that of the Normans. In spite of the efforts of that colossal personality, Charlemagne, the instability consequent upon the disordered condition of affairs, was not sufficiently overcome for the creation, at that time, of a social state possessed of the elements of permanency.
Could a genuine revival of the Gallo-Roman civilization be counted on under these conditions? Assuredly not, for the situation of the subject peoples soon became so precarious that it was impossible for the traditional arts of Gaul to flourish once more among them.
Again, could such a degree of civilization be expected in the conquering race as would enable it to produce, in its turn, a creative art? Assuredly not, for the barbarians were as yet not fixed to the soil which they had just conquered, but were encamped there, on the defensive and always on the verge of fresh combats among themselves.
The conditions out of which a new architecture could grow were not yet realized. The lull that came under the reign of Charlemagne was, however, favorable to the arts; notably, it prevented Latin architecture from going to decay and disappearing immediately. Under Charlemagne’s powerful protection the arts, as well as letters, were stopped in the downward path which would, perhaps, have led them to irretrievable ruin; owing to his encouragement and cooperation, and to the relations which he maintained uninterruptedly with the Orient, with the Byzantine and the Lombard world, Latin architecture could draw from yet living sources the vitality necessary to carry it through a few more centuries.
So true is all this that, on reaching the eleventh and twelfth centuries, we encounter conditions of superior stability and renewed prosperity, under which a genuine revival of Latin architecture took place, a revival which furnished a final and most remarkable florescence under the name of Romanesque architecture.
We will not dwell here upon its characteristics, nor upon its origin and developements, as these have already been presented under another head. We will merely remind the reader of the peculiar features of the style in the region lying to the south of the Loire — a region which had remained Latin in race, traditions and institutions — and in the section of the country above this stream, where the northern races, whether Franks or Normans, had the preponderance. It seems to us beyond question that Romanesque architecture originated in the Latin district, in the region where the oldest, the purest and the most finished examples of the style are to be found. But, as constant communication was kept up between the two sections, it likewise