Chapter II: Primitives

Apart from some possible Roman fragments the earliest specimens of foliage sculpture worked in this country are to be found on the Anglican crosses. The dates of these crosses have been a subject of much controversy, but a consensus of latest authorities accepts them as genuine work of the seventh and eighth centuries[2]. On these the foliage sculpture, if it can be so called, consists entirely of twining sprays and occasional vine leaves and grapes. The earliest and best of these would appear to be the work of foreign masons. St Augustine is said to have brought with him some artisans from Italy, and St Wilfred (634-709) is known to have done so, and some of these crosses may well have been their work. The standing crosses are not numerous, but there are hundreds of fragments scattered about, mostly in Yorkshire. The character of this carving does not differ from specimens which are to be found all over the eastern portion of the Roman Empire--in Italy, Greece, Egypt and Asia Minor. It is Byzantine or Coptic in origin. Although probably executed in England, and copied by native masons, it is rather cosmopolitan than national art. Some of the original specimens here compare favourably with sculpture of the same period in Italy and elsewhere. But there is little in this carving to indicate any life or originality. It is decadent Byzantine of the kind often called Lombardic because it was the kind of work that was produced in Italy after the Lombard invasion. The chief features of this style, besides the Byzantesque figures, are intricate knots of intertwined strands, and wavy sprays sometimes with biting beasts or pecking birds inserted among them. The figures when copied tended to become grotesque barbarisms. The knots were successfully copied up to the twelfth century. The strands, which tended to become grooved, survived in the intertwined or woven sprays of what is commonly called Anglo-Saxon sculpture and we find animals inserted in such twelfth-century work as that of Rochester west doorway, Ely Prior’s Doorway, and Kilpeck. The occasional vine-leaf and grapes did not lead to any further development, but a common form in this early work was a half-opened leaf in profile. This occurs frequently wherever this style of carving exists, and it survived into the twelfth century.

Assuming that these Anglian crosses belong to the end of the seventh century, we cannot trace any progressive development through the eighth, ninth and tenth centuries. It was not a period of progress, but rather of decadence and destruction, in spite of bright spots here and there. Arts which could be carried on in the seclusion of monasteries or convents, such as illuminated manuscripts and fine needlework, were carried to great perfection in certain quarters, perhaps also ivory-carving, some good specimens of which are attributed to Anglo-Saxon sources (Pl. 3). It is, however, questionable to what extent stone-carving was influenced by these arts; whether, for instance, the wonderful spirals and convolutions of Irish manuscripts should be regarded as predecessors or followers of stone-carvings; but goldsmiths’ work, wicker-work, and iron and wood-work certainly suggested some of the designs. In referring to a cross-shaft of very rude work at Bishop Auckland, Sir Martin Conway says: “We find here, continuing, the traditions introduced by Italian craftsmen into the North of England at or about the time of Wilfred. Those traditions, the forms developed by Irish and English craftsmen in goldsmiths’ work, illumination and perhaps also in wood-carving, and, finally, the influence of surviving works of Roman sculpture and decoration--these were the three factors by whose union the art of the Anglian sculptures was produced and is sufficiently explained[3].”

Between the period of the Anglian crosses and the eleventh century--a period of constant warfare and Danish incursions--we know little of any arts except the illuminations and needlework already mentioned, but towards the end of that period, the time shortly before or after the Norman Conquest, amid the dry bones of dead Byzantesque art we may discover some symptoms of a new living force. The grooved triple strands of Anglian art terminate naturally in a sort of trefoil. The trefoil is a bud-form ready to open further and to multiply its parts. It is therefore suitable as a basis for the decoration of curved or flat surfaces and to fill spaces of any shape. Apart from its obvious symbolism the trefoil had inevitably found its way into art in all ages. The thunderbolt of Zeus, the French lilies and the Prince of Wales’ feathers are all varieties of it. Once recognised as having these capacities it was bound to be adopted and developed. But this recognition and application implies vitality and ambition--the elements of progress.

At Sompting, in Sussex, there is a string course, a portion of which has been carried over a piscina (Pl. 2). The triple strands are straight, or nearly so, and are interlaced like wicker-work. They terminate in trefoils which are of two kinds: (i) one with a solid mid-rib running up into the central lobe, and (ii) the other in which the central lobe is hollowed to look almost like a loop. These two kinds must be intended to represent (i) the back or lower surface of a leaf, and (ii) the front or top surface. It will also be observed that in one instance in the portion selected for our illustration, the tip of the central lobe is turned over from the margin, where there was not room for it to expand. This was no doubt a reminiscence of the turned-over tips of Acanthus in Corinthian capitals. In these features are contained the germs from which sprang later the famous Early English stiff-leaf sculpture.

In the Oxford Galleries there are some casts of ivories attributed to the Anglo-Saxon period, in which the borders contain foliage sculpture resembling the floreated borders of Anglo-Saxon manuscripts (Pl. 3), also the reliefs on one of the slabs at Chichester have a row of what look like Greek anthemia. These slabs belong to what is called the Winchester school of sculpture, and they are supposed to be pre-Conquest in date. Similar anthemia are seen on a slab at Stepney. Other interesting remains are those of an ivory tau-cross and an ivory comb in the British Museum. These show trefoils of both sorts and one certainly curled over, also the half-opened leaves in profile. As we have said, these are all attributed to Anglo-Saxon art, and they are certainly very superior to any sculpture that we know to have been the work of Norman masons either prior to or shortly after the Conquest. These works, like the manuscripts and needlework, point to the presumption that in the eleventh century and perhaps earlier, there existed among our Anglo-Saxon forefathers monastic schools of art which reached a higher standard of vigour and refinement than was again attained until the Saxons had recovered from the degradation of the Conquest and were absorbing their conquerors into a blended nationality.

It is often difficult to be sure whether some of this sculpture is pre-or post-Conquest. The same Saxon masons, or their sons or pupils, no doubt retained something of their hereditary traditions when called upon to serve under other masters. In some more remote districts the Conquest probably did not cause any cessation of building. But in the twelfth century we find English influences changing the Romanesque as first introduced into Anglo-Norman and then into the Transition into Early English. When strands are beaded, it is generally regarded as a sign that the work is post-Conquest, but we do not consider this indisputable.

Setting aside the French Corinthian type introduced at Canterbury and elsewhere, from the period when the trefoil began to hold sway we can see two English rival forces competing, which we may call the Traditional and the Progressive. Sometimes masons of the two kinds were at work side by side in the same churches. At King’s Walden and Kimpton (near St Albans) (Pl. 4) the alternate capitals in the same arcade show these rivalries. The two were in competition towards the end of the twelfth century, and ultimately the English Gothic type became triumphant.

We have next to trace the development of Byzantesque and Romanesque foliage up to the period when the former ceased and the Early English stiff-leaf foliage became everywhere adopted in this country.