INTRODUCTORY

The quaint name which the writer has given to his little book, “The Secrets of a Great Cathedral,” is based upon his desire to answer briefly some of the leading questions which have been put to him in the long course of his office as chief custodian of one of the most notable of Romanesque cathedrals.

For after viewing with more or less interest and care the grey, time-worn pile of Gloucester, the visitors often long to learn something of the genesis and meaning of the several principal parts of the mighty church.

They ask first, naturally enough, what is the meaning of the term “Romanesque,” which they have often heard now and again popularly described as “Norman.” Whence then came this massive round-arch architecture? Is it not perhaps much older than the Norman period, which only dates from the eleventh and twelfth centuries? If so, who were the inventors of this widely diffused style? when and where did they live and work?

The writer of this little book answers the question, and tells the inquirer that this so-called “Romanesque” style is of very ancient date, and he traces its wonderful story back for some seven or eight hundred years before the coming of the Normans into England.

In late years not a few scholars[1] have dwelt with more or less detail on “the secret” of this wonderful and stately “Romanesque” round-arch architecture, of which so many splendid examples still remain in different lands. These scholars give us many important details, and they suggest various interesting theories on its origin and development.

But the most exhaustive histories that we possess of Romanesque architecture have quite lately appeared.[2] One of these belongs to Italy and is the work of Signor Rivoira; the other to England, and is from the pen of Sir Thomas Jackson, R.A. They both travel over much of the same ground, but with infinite varieties of detail and illustration—both, however, in their own way, telling the most interesting story that historical ecclesiastical architecture has ever had to tell. No one, after a careful study of these two great works, but will feel that the veil which has partly concealed “the secret” of Romanesque has at length been lifted.

But comparatively few, alas, find the leisure necessary to master the contents of these four massive quarto volumes.

One word on these great works, not of criticism but of legitimate comment, is called for.

Rivoira, the Italian scholar, throughout his great study of Romanesque, seeks and finds in Italy, the old home of Rome and the Empire, the inspiration and the cradle of all Romanesque. Sir T. Jackson, R.A., on the other hand, refers to Constantinople and the near East as the principal source of this the most famous and enduring of all architectural schools.

The Triforium.—The great gallery which appears in so many of the more important Anglo-Norman churches, and which in Gloucester Cathedral surrounds the choir, perplexes the student of the architecture of these mighty churches. What, is often asked, was the purpose of this striking feature? When and where was it first designed?

The story of the origin of a Triforium is sketched out; the reason for its exclusive ancient use in the Eastern Church is given, while in the West (Latin Christianity) it rarely, if ever, for many centuries appears.

Then its strange reappearance as a conspicuous and characteristic feature especially in Anglo-Norman Romanesque is discussed.

The Lady Chapel.—So well-known and frequent a feature in our more important mediæval cathedrals, abbeys and churches, notably in such English examples as Gloucester, Westminster Abbey, Salisbury, etc., often perplexes the inquirers. Whence, they ask, comes this striking “annexe” to the great religious piles of our forefathers? It seems to speak of a cult certainly unknown in the “inspired” writings—of a cult which is evidently a comparatively late development in Christian teaching.

The strange story of the “Lady Chapel” is traced in the pages of this little book.

The Crypt is by no means a universal feature even in Western Christendom, while in the East it is absolutely unknown. In the West, however, we frequently find a Crypt in the planning of the more important churches. The question often is put—What was its use? When and where was it first introduced? Is it not possibly “the memory” of some sacred spot once deeply revered and often visited in far-back days by tens of thousands from many distant lands? Emphatically a strange mystery hangs over those dark and gloomy Crypts which sleep beneath such great churches as the cathedrals of Gloucester and Canterbury, the mighty church of Chartres, the storied abbey of S. Benignus of Dijon. The true secret of the Crypt is a thrilling story and one that goes back to the earliest days of Christianity.

Some account is given of the Crypt of S. Peter’s, Rome, the “mother of Crypts,” and of the strange modern discoveries in that hallowed spot.

The Cloister, once so general a feature in the planning of the abbey and the cathedral church, and which even now has left not a few examples still striking with their scarred and often ruined beauty—the Cloister is to many the subject of perhaps a mute inquiry as to its origin and primitive use.

It is clearly a special adjunct to important Christian buildings, and was evidently once of the highest importance to the community of the abbey or the cathedral to which it was annexed.

It has a curious history, and one that is quickly and easily told; but this history is after all but very little known. It ranks emphatically as one of the secrets of a cathedral.

The Altar of S. Petronilla is a “memory” that belongs exclusively to Gloucester Cathedral, the home and the scene of work of the writer of this book. It is the earliest historical record in the many-coloured story of this great cathedral, and dates from the far-back early years of the eighth century. Its curious connection with the mighty church of the Severn Lands has suggested its inclusion in this work which deals with “the secrets” of a cathedral church.

The writer of these pages on “the secrets” of a cathedral has drawn much of his inspiration from the cathedral he loves so well. The story of S. Petronilla, so curiously and mysteriously linked with the fortunes of Gloucester Abbey some twelve centuries ago, possesses a deep and peculiar interest, as it tells of a sainted personage, now well-nigh forgotten, and round whom, for various reasons, modern criticism has been curiously busy.

The conclusions of modern critics, some of them of the first rank, if accepted, would destroy the supreme interest which in the early Christian centuries undoubtedly invested S. Petronilla with a halo of a rare and peculiar sanctity. The theories of modern critics have been refuted, mainly on historical grounds, in this study.