Age of Grandeur 00 Tap I

UNIVERSITY
OF FLORIDA
LIBRARIES
COLLEGE LIBRARY
I
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2011 with funding from
LYRASIS IVIembers and Sloan Foundation
http://www.archive.org/details/ageofgrandeurOOtapi
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
THE AGE OF
GRANDEUR
Baroque oArt
and Architecture
VICTOR-L.TAPIE
Professor
of
Modern History
at the Sorbonne, Paris
Translated
from
the French by
A. Koss Williamson
GROVE PRESS, INC, NEW YORK
First published ia France
under the title
BAROQUE ET CLASSICISME
1957
by Librairie Plon
English translation i960
by GeorgeWeidenfeld and Nicolson Limited
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 60-1 iioo
First Printing i960
Printed in Great Britain
Qontents
INTRODUCTION XVU
Book I
I. THE BIRTH OF BAROQUE
3
II. ROMA TRIUMPHANS
30
III. BERNINI AND BORROMINI 4I
Book II
IV. THE RECEPTION OF BAROQUE
69
V. FRANCE BETWEEN BAROQUE AND CLASSICISM 86
VI. BERNINI VISITS PARIS IIO
VII. CLASSICISM AND FRENCH BAROQUE I32
Book III
VIII. ENGLAND I63
IX. CENTRAL EUROPE I9I
X. IMPERIAL BAROQUE 210
XI. BAROQUE IN POLAND AND RUSSIA 226
XII. COLONIAL BAROQUE
238
CONCLUSION
255
NOTES
259
BIBLIOGRAPHY
285
INDEX
299
List
of
Illustrations
The references to the illustrations are in square brackets in the text
Grouped between pages 14 and
15
1 Jacopo
Sansovino
(1477-1570):
The Library,
1537-54,
finished by
Scamozzi
(15
52-16
16),
Venice. [Photo: Alinari]
2 Giulio Romano
(1499-1546)
: Frescoes in the Sala dei Giganti,
1530-3
5,
Palazzo del Te, Mantua. [Photo: Alinari]
3
Titian (c.
148
5-1
576):
Pope Paul III and his Grandsons,
1546,
Naples
Museum. [Photo: Mansell Collection, Anderson]
4
Titian: Assumption
of
the Virgin, 1518, Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari,
Venice. [Photo: Mansell Collection, Anderson]
5
Michelangelo
(1475-1564):
Statue of Night,
1530-34,
Tomb of
GiuHano de' Medici, Sacristy of San Lorenzo, Florence. [Photo:
Mansell Collection, Alinari]
6 Michelangelo: Statue of Day,
1530-34,
Tomb of GiuHano de'
Medici, Sacristy of San Lorenzo. [Photo: Mansell Collection, Alinari]
7
Correggio
(1489-1534):
Assumption
of
the Virgin, fresco in the cupola
of Parma Cathedral, 1526-30. [Photo: Alinari]
8 Rosso
(1494-1541):
Detail of the Francis I Gallery,
1533-40,
Fon-
tainebleau. [Photo: Giraudon]
9
Rosso: Francis I Gallery,
1533-40,
Fontainebleau. [Photo: Claude
Esparcieux]
10 Tintoretto
(1518-94):
Paradise, 1588, Grand Council Chamber, the
Doge's Palace, Venice. [Photo: Alinari]
11 Diego de Arruda
(5-1531):
Window of the Chapter House in the
Convent of Christ,
15 10-14, at Thomar, Portugal. [Photo: S. Wiess-
Agence Rapho]
12 Domenico Fontana (i 543-1607): Benediction Loggia, 1588, St John
Lateran, Rome. [Photo: Alinari]
13
Giacomo della Porta (i 540-1602): Facade of the Gesii,
1575,
Rome.
[Photo: Mansell Collection, Anderson]
14
Giacomo Vignola
(1507-73):
Interior of the Gesu. \Photo: Mansell
Collection, Alinari]
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
15
Carlo Madema (1556-1629): Facade of Santa Susanna, 1603, Rome.
[Photo: Anderson-Giraudon]
16 Carlo Rainaldi (1611-91): Facade of Sant Andrea della Valle, 1665,
Rome. [Photo: Alinari]
17
Giovanni Battisto Soria (1581-1651): Facade of Santa Maria della
Vittoria, 1626, Rome. [Photo: Alinari]
18 Martino Lunghi the Younger
(1603-57):
Fa9ade of SS Vincenzo e
Anastasio, 1650, Rome. [Photo: Mansell Collection, Anderson]
19
Pietro da Cortona (i 590-1669): Facade of SS Luca e Martina,
1634,
Rome. [Photo: Anderson]
20 Pietro da Cortona: Facade of Santa Maria in Via Lata, 1662, Rome.
[Photo: Alinari]
Grouped between pages 38
and
39
21 Rainaldi: Facade of Santa Maria in Campitelli, 1665, Rome. [Photo:
Mansell Collection, Anderson]
22 Orazio Grassi (i 583-1654): Facade of Sant Ignazio,
1650, Rome.
[Photo: Alinari]
23
Michelangelo: Plan for St Peter's, Rome. [Photo: Photographic Archives,
Vatican Museum]
24
Madema: Facade of St Peter's, 1607. [Photo: Mansell Collection,
Alinari]
25
Ludovico Cigoli
(1559-1613):
Project for St Peter's, UfFizi, Florence.
[Photo: Mansell Collection, Alinari]
26 General view of St Peter's. [Photo: Mansell Collection, Anderson]
27
Michelangelo-Giacomo della Porta: Cupola of St Peter's,
1585-90.
28 Cupolas of Rome. [Photo: Boudot-Lamotte]
29
Guido Reni
(1575-1642):
Aurora, Casino Rospigliosi,
1613?, Rome.
[Photo: Anderson]
30
Annibale Carracci
(1560-1609): Triumph
of
Bacchus and Ariadne,
1595,
vault of Farnese Gallery, Rome. [Photo: Anderson]
31
Farnese Gallery,
1595,
Rome. [Photo: Alinari]
63
32
Guercino (i 591-1666): Burial
of
St Petronilla,
1621, Capitoline Pina-
cotheca, Rome. [Photo: Mansell Collection, Anderson]
33
Domenicliino
(1581-1641): Last Communion
of
St Jerome, Vatican
Museum, Rome. [Photo: Mansell Collection, Alinari]
34
Caravaggio (i
573-1610): Death
of
the Virgin,
1607, Louvre, Paris.
[Photo: Giraudon]
35
Caravaggio: St Matthew, between
1590 and 1600, San Luigi dei
Francesi, Rome. [Photo: Anderson]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
36
Caravaggio: Madonna
of
Loretto or Virgin
of
the Pilgrims^ 1604-5,
Sant Agostino, Rome. [Photo: Alinari]
37
Gian Lorenzo Bernini
(1598-1680) : Bust ofCardinal Scipio Borghese,
1632,
Borghese Gallery, Rome. [Photo: Anderson]
38
Bernini: Triton Fountain, 1640, Piazza del Tritone, Rome. [Photo:
Alinari]
39
Bernini: Baldacchino,
1624-33, St Peter's, Rome. [Photo: Alinari]
40
Bernini: Statue of St Longinus, 1638, St Peter's. [Photo: Alinari]
41
Francesco Mochi (i 580-1654): Statue of St Veronica, c.
1639,
St
Peter's. [Photo: Alinari]
42 Francois Duquesnoy (i 594-1648): Statue of St Andrew, c.
1639,
St
Peter's. [Photo: Anderson]
43
Andrea Bolgi
(1605-56):
Statue of St Helena,
1649,
St Peter's. [Photo:
Anderson]
44
Francesco Borromini (i
599-1667):
Interior of San Carlo alle Quatre
Fontane (San Carlino), 1638-41, Rome. [Photo: Alinari]
45
Borromini: Facade of San Carlo alle Quatre Fontane, 1662-67.
[Photo: Roger-Viollet, Anderson]
46
Borromini: Facade of the Oratory of San Filippo Neri,
1637-43,
Rome. [Photo: Anderson]
47
Borromini: Tower of Sant Ivo alia Sapienza, 1642-50, Rome. [Photo:
Boudot-Lamotte]
48
Borromini: Interior of the nave of St John
Lateran,
1650, Rome.
[Photo: Alinari, Nash]
49
Borromini: Cherubs in the side aisles of St
John
Lateran. [Photo:
Alinari]
50
Borromini: Facade of Sant' Agnese, Piazza Navona, c.
1657,
Rome.
[Photo: Anderson]
51
Borromini: Interior of Sant' Agnese. [Photo: Mansell Collection,
Anderson]
52
Bernini: Facade of Sant Andrea al Quirinale,
1658, Rome. [Photo:
Alinari]
53
Bernini: Interior of Sant Andrea al Quirinale, 1658. [Photo: Alinari]
54
Bernini: Detail of the Cathedra Petri, St Peter's. [Photo: Boudot-
Lamotte]
55
Bernini: Cathedra Petri,
1657,
St Peter's. [Photo: Boudot-Lamotte]
56
Bernini: Colonnade of St Peter's, 1667. [Photo: Boudot-Lamotte]
57
Bernini: Interior ofthe colonnade of St Peter's, 1667. \Photo: Mansell
Collection, Anderson]
58
Bernini: Side aisle of St Peter's. [Photo: Photographic Archives, Vatican
Museum]
59
Bernini: Tomb of Pope Urban VIII, 1642-47, St Peter's. [Photo:
Anderson]
60 Bernini: Tomb of Pope Alexander VII, 1672-78, St Peter's. [Photo:
Mansell Collection, Anderson]
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
6
1
Bernini: Ecstasy of St Teresa, 1644-47,
Capella Comaro, Santa
Maria, della Vittoria, Rome. [Photo: Roger-Viollet]
62 Borromini: Campanile of Sant Andrea delle Fratte, 1654-65,
Rome.
63
Bernini and pupils: Fountain in the Piazza Navona, c.
1657,
Rome.
[Photo: Boudot-Lamotte]
64
Federico Zuccaro (i
542-1609):
Door of the Casa Zuccaro, end of
the sixteenth century, via Gregoriana, Rome. [Photo: Alinari]
87
65
Simon Vouet (i 590-1649): Louis XIII, Louvre, Paris. [Photo: Archives
Photographiques]
66 Jacques
Callot
(1592-163 5):
One ofthe Series Les Miseres de la Guerre,
1633,
Bibhotheque Nationale, Estampes, Paris. [Photo: Bibliotheque
Nationale]
67
PhiUppe de Champaigne (1602-74):
La Mere Angelique Arnauld,
Louvre. [Photo: Giraudon]
68 Louis LeNain (i
593-1648):
The Peasants' Meal, 1640, Louvre. [Photo:
Mansell Collection]
69
Philippe de Champaigne: Cardinal Richelieu, Louvre. [Photo : Archives
Photographiques]
70 Jean
Ganiere or Gagniere ('-1698): Coronation of Louis XIV in
Rheims Cathedral,
1654,
Bibhotheque Nationale, Estampes. [Photo:
Giraudon]
Grouped between pages
94
and
95
71
J.
Lemercier (i
585-1654)
: Facade ofthe Chapel ofthe Sorbonne,
163
5,
Paris. [Photo: Giraudon]
72
Francois Mansart (i 598-1666): Facade of the Chapel of the Val de
Grace, 1646, Paris. [Photo: Archives Photographiques]
73
ToreUi: Decor for La Finta Pazza,
1645,
Bibhotheque Nationale,
Estampes. [Photo: BibliotJieque Nationale]
74
Louis Le Vau (1612-70): Chateau of Vaux-le-Vicomte, 1658-61.
[Photo: Archives Photographiques]
75
Jacques ToreUi:
(1608-78) Decor for Andromede by Comeille,
1650,
Bibhotheque Nationale, Estampes. [Photo: Bibliotheque Nationale]
j6
ToreUi: Decor for Andromede. [Photo: Bibliotheque Nationale]
JJ
Triumphal arch of the Fauborg Saint Antoine, decor for the fete of
26th August 1660 (from a drawing by Mehn), Cabinet des Estampes.
[Photo: Bibliotheque Nationale]
78
Stone triumphal arch ofthe Faubourg Saint Antoine, restored c.
1550,
adapted for the fete of 26th August 1660
79
Triumphal arch of the Fontaine Saint Gervais, decor for the fete of
26th August 1660. [Photo: Richard-Blin]
80 Triumphal arch in the Place Dauphine (from a drawing by Le Brun),
decor for the fete of26th August 1660. [Photo: Bibliotheque Nationale]
81 First day of L^5 P/(?j5/r5 ê Vile enchante, Versailles,
1664,
engraving
by I. Silvestre, Cabinet des Estampes, Bibhotheque Nationale, Paris.
[Photo: Bibliotheque Nationale]
82 Third day of Les Plaisirs de Vile enchante. [Photo: Bibliotheque
Nationale]
Grouped between pages 118 and 119
83
Le Vau: Elevation for the Louvre, 1661, Bibhotheque Nationale,
Paris. [Photo: Bibliotheque Nationale]
84
Bernini: First project for the Louvre, 1664, Plan, Louvre Archives.
[Photo: Archives Photographiques]
85
Bernini: First project for the Louvre,
1664, East Elevation, Louvre
Archives. [Photo: Archives Photographiques]
86 Bernini: Final project for the Louvre, 1665, East Elevation, from an
engraving by Marot. [Photo: Courtauld Institute]
87
Bernini: Final project for the Louvre, 1665, South Elevation, from an
engraving by Marot. [Photo: Archives Photographiques]
88 Bernini: Final project for the Louvre, 1665,
Louvre Archives. [Photo:
Archives Photographiques]
89
Bernini: Bust of Louis XIV, 1665, Versailles. [Photo: Archives Photo-
graphiques]
90
Claude Lefebvre
(1633/6-1675):
Portrait of Jean-Baptiste Colbert,
Versailles. [Photo: Archives Photographiques]
91
Bernini: Equestrian statue of Louis XIV (remodelled by Girardon),
c.
1675,
Versailles gardens. [Photo: Giraudon]
92
Attributed to Bernini: Baldacchino in the Chapel ofthe Val de Grace,
Paris. [Photo: Giraudon]
93
Bernini: Self portrait, British Museum. [Plioto: British Museum]
94
Claude Perrault
(1613-88): Colonnade of the Louvre, 1666-70, Paris.
[Photo: Boudot-Lamotte]
143
95
Le Vau: Garden facade, Versailles, from an engraving by I. Silvestre,
1674. [Photo: Courtauld Institute]
96 Jules Hardouin-Mansart
(1646-1708):
Garden facade, Versailles, from
1678 onwards. [Photo: Ciccione-Agence Rapho]
97
General view of Versailles. [Photo: Archives Photographiques]
98
Francois Girardon
(1628-1715): Statue of the Rape of Proserpine,
Versailles gardens. [Photo: Giraudon]
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
99
Etienne Le Hongre (1628 ?-9o): Statue in the Versailles gardens.
[PJioto: Giraudon]
100 Le Hongre: Statue in the water garden, Versailles. [Photo: Alinari-
Giraudon]
loi Charles Le Brun (1619-90): Detail of ceiHng in the Hall of Mirrors,
1678, Versailles. [PJwto: Mansell Collection, Alinari]
102 Le Brun: Funeral of Chancellor Seguier, 1672, in the church of the
Oratory, Paris, [Photo: Richard-Blin]
103 Jean Berain (1639-1711)
and Claude Menestrier (1631-1705): Funeral
of Turenne, 1675,
Notre Dame, Paris. [Photo: Richard-Blin]
104 Berain: Obsequies ofthe Prince de Conde's heart, Jesuit Church (now
Saint Paul et Saint Louis), Paris. [Photo: Richard-Blin]
105 Berain: Funeral of the Prince de Conde, 1687, Notre Dame, Paris.
[Photo: Richard-Blin]
106 Detail of Altarpiece in the church of the Isle sur Sorgue, in the
Vaucluse. [PJioto: Archives Photographiques]
107 Altarpiece in the Isle sur Sorgue. [Photo: Archives Photographiques]
108 Central altarpiece in the church of Fontaine Couverte, Mayenne, end
of the seventeenth century. [Photo: Jacqueline V. Tapie]
109 Pierre Barauderie (c. 1643-1725): Altarpiece in the south transept of
Fontaine Couverte, 1694. [Photo: Jacqueline V. Tapie]
no G. Robelot: Altarpiece of the church of Saint Jean de Bere,
Chateaubriant, Loire-Atlantique. [Photo: Chapeau, Nantes]
111 Altarpiece in the church of Tepotzotlan, Mexico. [Photo: Osuna
Aiexican Embassy, London]
112 Altarpiece at Comana, Finistere. [Photo: Archives Photographiques]
174
and
175
113 Inigo Jones (1573-1652): The Queen's House, 1616-35, Greenwich,
London. [Photo: Ministry
of
Works]
114 Inigo Jones: Facade of the Banqueting HaU, Whitehall, 1619-22,
London. [Photo: A. F. Kersting]
115 Inigo Jones: Project for the Palace of Whitehall. [Photo: Mansell
Collection]
116 Peter Paul Rubens (i
577-1640): Detail of ceiling in the Banqueting
Hall, Wliitehall. [Photo: Ministry
of
Works]
117 Antony Van Dyck (i
599-1641): Portrait of Charles I, Louvre, Paris.
[Photo: Mansell Collection]
118 Christopher Wren
(163
2-1
723): West front of St Paul's Cathedral,
119 Wren: General view of St Paul's. [Photo: A. F. Kersting]
120 Wren: Model for St Paul's, 1673. [Photo: Courtesy
of
the Dean and
Chapter, St Paul's Cathedral]
121 Wren: Dome of St Paul's, 1705-11. [Photo: A. F. Kersting]
122 Wren: Apse of St Paul's. [Photo: Courtesy
of
the Dean and Chapter,
St PauVs Cathedral]
123
Wren: Interior of St Paul's. [Photo: A. F. Kerstinj^]
124 Wren: Belfry of St Vedast's, 1670-73, London. [Photo: A. F. Kersting]
125
Wren: Hampton Court, garden facade, 1689-1702, Middlesex. [Photo:
Ministry
of
Works]
126 Wren: Grand staircase and fresco by Vcrrio, c. 1690, Hampton Court.
[Photo: Ministry
of
Works]
127 General view of Greenwich, London. [Photo: Ministry
of
Works]
128
John
Vanbrugh (1664.-1726): Towers of Greenwich. [Photo: Ministry
of
Works]
129 Vanbrugh: Castle Howard, east facade, 1702-14, Yorkshire. [Photo:
Country Life]
130
Vanbrugh: Castle Howard, central pile. [Photo: Country
Life]
131
Vanbrugh: Blenheim Palace, 1705-23,
Oxfordshire. [Photo: Country
Life]
132 Vanbrugh: Blenheim, north portico. [Photo: Country
Life]
133
Vanbrugh: Seaton Delaval, 1718,
Northumberland. [Photo: Country
Life]
134
Vanbrugh: Seaton Delaval, interior. [Photo: Country
Life]
135
Nicolas Hawksmoor (1661-1736): St George's Bloomsbury,
1730,
136 Hawksmoor: Interior of St George's Bloomsbury. [Photo: Warburg
Institute]
137 James Gibbs (1682-1754):
St Mary-le-Strand,
1717,
London. [Photo:
A. F. Kersting]
138
Pietro da Cortona: Facade of Santa Maria deUa Pace, Rome. [Photo:
Anderson]
139
Gibbs: St Mary-le-Strand, interior. [Photo: CampbelVs Press Studio]
140 Wenceslas Hollar
(1607-77):
Engraving of Albury, England, British
Museum. [Photo :
John
Freeman]
199
141
Baldassare Longhena
(1598-1698): The Salute, 1632-87, Venice.
[Photo: Alinari]
142
Alessandro Tremignon (seventeenth century): San Moise, c. 1668,
Venice. [Photo: Alinari]
143
Longhena: Palazzo Rezzonico, 1680, Venice. [Photo: Alinari]
144
Andrea Pozzo
(1642-1709):
Altarpiece of St Ignatius, 1696-1700, in
the Gesu, Rome. [Photo: Mansell Collection, Alinari]
145
G. Massari (1686-1766): Fa9ade of the Gesuati Church, 1725-36,
Venice. [Photo: Osvaldo Bohrn, Nash]
146 Andrea Spezza: Loggia of the Wallenstein Palace, 1625-29, Prague.
[Photo: Alexander Paul]
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
147 J-B.
Mathey (1630-95):
Church of the Knights ofthe Cross, 1679-88,
Prague
148
Karel Skreta (1610-74):
St Wenceslas, c. 1640, cloisters of Zderaz,
Czechoslovakia
149
Lodovico Burnacini (1636-1707):
Decor for the theatrical fete //
Porno d'Oro, 1668, with music by Cesti. [Photo: Prestel Verlag]
150
Burnacini: Decor for II Pomo d'Oro. [Photo: Prestel Verlag]
223
151 Jean-Pierre Tencala
(5-1699)
and Jean-Bernard Fischer von Erlach
(1656-1723):
The Dietrichstein Palace, later the Lobkowicz Palace,
1685,
Vienna. [Photo: Bildarchiu d. Ost. Nationalhibliothek]
152 Pozzo: Interior of the University Church, 1703-5, Vienna. [Photo:
Eva Frodl-Kraft]
153
Fischer von Erlach and Lucas von Hildebrandt
(1668-1745):
Winter
Palace of Prince Eugene,
1695-1724,
Himmelpfortegasse, Vienna.
[Photo: Eva Frodl-Kraft]
154
Fischer von Erlach: Staircase in the Winter Palace of Prince Eugene.
155
Fischer von Erlach: The Bohemian Chancellery, 1708-22, Vienna.
[Photo: Bildarchiv d. Ost. Nationalhibliothek]
156 Hildebrandt: Belvedere Palace (Summer Palace of Prince Eugene),
1721-22, Vienna. [Photo: Bildarchiv d. Ost. Nationalbibliothek]
157
Fischer von Erlach and his son Joseph-Emmanuel Fischer von Erlach
(1693-1742):
Imperial Library,
1723-35, the Hofburg, Vienna.
158 Fischer von Erlach: Towers of the Karlskirche, or church of St
Charles Borromeo, 1716-37, Vienna. [Photo: Jacqueline V. Tapie]
159
Fischer von Erlach: The Karlskirche. [Photo: Bildarchiv d. Ost.
Nationalhibliothek]
160 Fischer von Erlach: Interior of the Karlskirche. [Photo: Austrian State
Tourist Department]
161 Balthasar Permoser
(1631-1732): Apotheosis ofPrince Eugene,
1718,
Museum of Baroque Art, Belvedere, Vienna. [Photo: Osterreichische
Galerie, Vienna]
162 G. Riccardo (sixteenth century), Francesco (sixteenth to seventeenth
centuries) and later Giuseppe Zimbalo (eighteenth century): Santa
Croce, 1549-1657,
Lecce, Italy. [Photo: Mansell Collection, Alinari]
163
Achille Carducci (eighteenth century): Upper part of facade of San
Matteo,
1700, Lecce. [Photo: Courtauld Institute]
164 Carducci: San Matteo. [Photo: Jacqueline V. Tapie"]
165
J.
Prandtauer (1660-1726): Abbey Church ofMelk, 1702-38, Austria.
[Photo: Bildarchiv d. Ost. Nationalhibliothek]
66 Prandtauer and Michael Rottmayer
(1654-1730):
Frescoes in the nave
of the Abbey Church of Melk, 1718-19. [Photo: Bildarchiv d. Ost.
Nationalhibliothek]
67
Prandtauer: Library, Melk Abbey, Austria. [Photo: Bildarchiv d. Ost.
Nationalhibliothek]
68 Prandtauer and Paul Troger (1696-1762): Interior of the Library at
Melk (frescoes by Troger). [Photo: Bildarchiv d. Ost. Nationalhiblio-
thek]
69
Hildcbrandt and Kihan Ignaz Dientzenhofer: Church of Maria
Treu, 1698-1753,
Vienna. [Photo: Bildarchiv d. Ost. Nationalhibliothek]
70
A. Maulpertsch
(1724-96):
Frescoes in the vault of HeiHgcnkreuz am
Guten Brunnen, Austria. [Photo: Bildarchiv d. Ost. Nationalhibliothek]
71
The Towêr, Durnstein Abbey, Austria. [Photo: Jacqueline V. Tapie]
72
Statues of the Fathers of the Church, Durnstein Abbey. [Photo:
Bildarchiv d. Ost. Nationalhibliothek]
73
Prandtauer: Herzogenburg Abbey, 1714-26, Austria. [Photo: Eva
Frodl-Kraft]
74
Organ in Herzogenburg Abbey, 1749-80, Austria. [Photo: Bildarchiv
d. Ost. Nationalhibliothek]
75
Kihan Ignaz Dientzenhofer
(1674-1766): St Nicolas de Mala Strana,
1704-53,
Prague. [Photo: Foto Fon]
76
Dientzenhofer: Interior of St Nicolas de Mala Strana. [Photo: Alex-
ander Paul]
77
Mathias Braun (1684-173 8):
Statue of St Luitgarde,
1710, Pont
Charles, Prague. [Photo: Zikm Reach, Prague]
78
Balthasar Neumann
(1687-1753):
Vierzehnheihgen,
1745,
Bavaria.
[Photo : Fremdenverkehrsverhand Nordbayern]
79
Johan Jakob
Kiichel
(1703-69):
Altar of Grace, Vierzehnheihgen, c.
1755.
[Photo: Fremdenverkehrsverhand Nordbayern]
80 Statues in Vierzehnheihgen. [Photo: Fremdenverkehrsverhand Nord-
bayern]
81 Dominikus Zimmermann
(1685-1766): Choir of the pilgrims'
church,
1746,
Wies, Bavaria. [Photo: Boudot-Lamotte]
246 and
247
182 Jean-Marie Bemardoni (?-i6o5) and
Jan
Trevano (c. i5?-i62i):
St Peter and St Paul,
1597,
cupola,
1619, Cracov^. [Photo: R. S. W.
'Prasa', Centralna Agencja Fotografic, Warsaw]
183
Giovaimi Bellotti (seventeenth century): Church of St
John
(eight-
eenth century), Vilnius, USSR.
184 Bellotti: Wilanov Palace, near Warsaw.
185 Chapel of the Fountain, Monastery of Trinity St Sergeius, Zagorsk,
USSR. [Photo: Boudot-Lamotte]
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
1 86 The refectory, 1685-92, Monastery of Trinity St Sergeius. [Photo:
Boiidot-Lamotte]
187
Church of FiH (Prince Narychkine's estate),
1693-94, near Moscow.
[Photo: Academy
of
Construction and Architecture
of
the USSR\
188 Church of Dubrovitsi (Prince GaUtzine's estate), 1690-1704, near
Moscow. [Photo: Academy
of
of
the USSR]
189
Osipa Startsev (seventeenth century) : Kroutitski Gateway,
1693-94,
Moscow, [Photo: Academy
of
of
the IJSSR\
190
Church of Troitski-Lykov, 1698-1703, near Moscow. [Photo: Acad-
emy
of
of
the USSR]
191
Window in the church of St John Chrysostom of Korovniki,
1654,
Yaroslavl, USSR. [Photo: Ministry
of
Culture
of
the USSR]
192 Chapel of the Church of San Jose, Tepotzotlan, Mexico. [Photo:
Osuna, and Mexican Embassy, London]
193
Church of St Francis d'Assissi, c. 1700, Ouro Preto, Brazil. [Photo:
Costa, Atlas Photo]
194
Church of Nossa Senhora da Gloria de Outeiro, c.
1730,
Rio de
Janeiro, Brazil. [Photo: Jacqueline V. Tapie]
195
Antonio Francisco Lisboa, called I'Aleijadinho (1738-1814): Statues
ofthe prophets Hosea and Ezekiel, c. 1780-1810, terrace of the church
of the Bom Jesus de Matozinhos, Congonhas do Campo, Brazil.
[Photo: Atlas Photo]
COLOUR ILLUSTRATIONS
page
I Correggio: Detail of the fresco othe Assumption
of
the Virgin, 6
cupola of Parma Cathedral. [Photo: Federico Arborio Mella]
II Guercino: Fresco of Aurora, 1621, Casino Ludovisi, Rome. 22
[Photo: Federico Arborio Mella]
III Baciccio (1639-1709):
Fresco of the Apotheosis
of
St Ignatius,
70
1672-79, church of the Gesu, Rome. [Photo: Federico Arborio
Mella]
IV Le Vau and Le Brun: Ambassadors' Staircase, 1671, Versailles. 134
Model made by M. Arquinet. [Photo: Roland Bonnefoy
Con-
naissance des Arts]
V Pozzo: Ceiling of the church of Sant Ignazio, 1685, Rome. 166
[Photo: Federico Arborio Mella]
VI Prandtauer: Detail of the interior of the Abbey Church of 182
Melk, Austria. [Photo: Ritter, Vienna, and Federico Arborio
Mella]
VII The brothers Asam (Cosmas Damian, 1686-1739, and Egid 214
Quirin, 1 692-1 750):
Choir of St John Nepomuk, Munich.
[Photo: Kcmpter, and Federico Arborio Mella]
VIII Facade of the church of Tepotzotlan, Mexico. [Photo: Ameri-
230
can Foto, Mexico]
Introduction
The Age
of
Grandeur first appeared in France in
1957
when it was pub-
lished under the title Baroque et Classicisme by Librairie Plon in Paris. In the
preface the author expressed the hope of doing something to dispel those
prejudices which have made the great Baroque masterpieces incomprehen-
sible to French taste. These prejudices most certainly did not exist in the
seventeenth century, when Itahan art enjoyed great prestige in France.
But France, especially the cultivated circles of the capital, did not un-
reservedly submit to the Italian models. It sought for a personal idiom to
express its manner of life and thought, and finally found it in Classicism.
But it is, nevertheless, unnecessary to oppose the Baroque and the
classical styles as though they were two hostile worlds that had nothing in
common with each other. Both forms of art derive from the Itahan
Renaissance. They spread through a Europe where the general economy,
the political and religious thought and public feeling still maintained many
characteristics in common. It is that that makes it sometimes difficult to
trace the dividing hne between the two aspects of the civihzation of the
same world and the same epoch. But from one country to the other
society did differ; in one there might be a more marked aristocratic and
rural pattern, while in another the middle classes were growing more
numerous, powerful and active. It seems that in the former the imaginative
style of Baroque was more warmly welcomed, while the latter favoured
the harmonious classical style.
To understand why one or the other style was popular in certain regions
and at certain times, it is essential to go back to the Itahan Renaissance and
then to trace the history of the various countries during the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries.
But there is no question here ofwriting a complete history of Baroque
and Classicism, nor of undertaking an exhaustive analysis of the buildings
and monuments. Would such a work be possible or, indeed, even desir-
able? When one considers the present state of our knowledge, it would
hardly be wise. One would have to make a census of works in each
country and a thorough enquiry into the conditions prevailing at the time
of their creation, before any synthesis could be attempted. So far there is
not even a rough plan for such an enquiry, though one wishes diere were,
B
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
with teams of investigators who could then compare their results. The
design of this author cannot be on any such vast scale, but it is perhaps
possible to attempt an essay dealing with some chosen examples which
points out the relationship between the motifs we find in Baroque or
classical works of art and the general conditions of the society which saw
their birth and welcomed them. Encouragement from many readers has
shown that this essay has aroused some interest.
The reader has every right to enquire how the examples have been
chosen. The author's career has led him to many countries, but it never
enabled him to enjoy a long stay in. Spain and acquire a suificiently deep
knowledge of Spanish Baroque to dare put forward his own views. In a
general history of Baroque to leave out Spain is to leave a yawning gap;
this had to be done in this essay, ofnecessity and not without regret. Were
it not that the method appHed to the various countries that the author
could choose had some value, this essay would not have been written.
When the question ofan Enghsh edition came to be discussed, it was pro-
posed that a chapter on Enghsh Baroque should be includeda subject
which is less wide ranging than Spanish Baroque, but which is now
widely discussed and has aroused great interest. For in England one finally
sees Baroque buildings and a Baroque outlook alongside the well-known
PaUadian and classical trends. Also the chapters on Central Europe have
been revised and expanded for this translation, for it is there that we
can see Baroque in a privileged position, which was due to the local con-
ditions in these lands.
The En,Q;hsh title has been chosen to stress one
thing fhaiLjataj^-ppm^mfrn
both, to Baroque and Classin'si
m: the desire for magnificence. No doubt it
was bound up with the plans of princes and pohticians, but the nations as
a whole accepted it as a proper expression oftheir own might. One can see
that the great masterpieces ofBaroque and Classicism coincide with times
when the nations and their leaders had, or beheved they had, reason to
rejoice, to render thanks to Heaven, to make a deep impression on their
contemporaries and construct something that would endure, to teach pos-
terity about their victories. This we see in Rome in the JubUee Year of
1600 and during the first half of the seventeenth century, when she was
elated by the triumphs of the Counter-Reformation; in France, restored
and glorious after the civil wars ofthe Fronde and the Spanish Treaty; and
in Austria after the siege of Vienna, or in England, enjoying a new-found
prosperity after the Glorious Revolution of 1688. Moreover, the most
humble classes also responded to these decorations and fantasies as though
they might there find some solace for their crushing everyday burdens
and, despite their worries, be transported into an ideal strange world.
This was the Age of Grandeur
grandeur that was loved, sought after,

and, so everyone then thought, acliieved. Succeeding generations, more
anxious for concrete results, more reaHsticor perhaps simply adopting
different idealsturned away from something that failed to satisfy them.
BOOK I
CHAPTER I
The îrth
of
baroque
If one wished to sum up the Renaissance in a word, there is a single name
that seems to stand not only for all its wonderful acliievements but also for
the great hopes of the era, even if they came to nothingLeonardo da
yincL This man 'senza lettere', and we need not take this quip about his
lack ofletters seriously, is pre-eminently the heir to all the riches, spiritual
aruLmaterial, that had been accumulating in Italy since the thirteenth
century, a master artist who could turn out a fresco or picture unequalled
throughout the world; also an acute observer who sought to fathom
natural laws and principles and so to harness Nature's forces for human
ends. How much greater a humanist he was because of this than those
over-subtle authors and learned commentators on Greek and Latin texts,
giving, as he did, a new sense of beauty to his own and succeeding ages.
The scientist in him was always impatient to fmd out secrets that could
ease human labour by the use ofmachines or invent things that would even
enable man to master the air or fathom the sea. It is he who shows most
clearly how the Renaissance resolved many problems. When the Re-
naissance found an answer, it was a perfect one and has remained un-
challenged to this day; when it asked questions, they were questions
which were a challenge to every future generation including our own.
We owe all our science and technical development to the Renaissance.
Leonardo daJVinci died in France in
1
5
19.
The next year Luther, by
burning the Papal Bull at Wittenberg, started the revolt of those who
could fmd no^place for their faith or spiritual needs in the church as it then
existed. The answer to this was the reHgious reform of the sixteenth
century, on the one hand Protestant, where the solution differed from
country to country and might be Calvinist, Lutheran, AngHcan, or on
the other hand Cathohc, where the changes were summarized by the
CpuncilofTrent. In neither case was it a question ofa new Christianity
the Protestants turned back to the original sources and the Catholics took
up anew traditions that had fallen into abeyancebut it was a rejuvenated
religion which understood and catered for new and contemporary needs
and aspirations. The Renaissance and the Reformation coincided and wjere
jointlyLissponsible-fbr-changing -the iu&toryôf Europe and of thejffiorld.
êverdieless the
y
were opposed to each other.
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
Sometimes people wondeHf the year is27, the year when Rome_was
gacêd on CharEV^ orders, was the-dat^-tha^changccl the-:whole_coiirse
ôf the Renaissance and markedjh_iidj3its.iiiQStJbeautifuI and charac-
teristic period. No one would suggest that the Renaissance, with its almost
all-embracing intellectual aspects, couldjust be swept away because Rome,
even though it had fostered its most recent and expansive growth, had
suffered a reverse. But there are some who think that the shock was so
severe that the connexion with the past was irretrievably broken.
How then should we regard this vital date of 1527? A city which, like
Florence, had become a centre of the arts and which for several years had
witnessed the birth ofmasterpiece after masterpiece was overrun by a band
ofthirty-five thousand ruffians in. serried ranks on Sunday, 5th May. Many
ofthem were convinced Lutherans, or at any rate willing to be convinced
that the weakly defended city, which had no chance against their weapons,
was the modern Babylon, not the seat of Peter but the seat of every vice
that menaced Christianity and the laws of God. But whatever the men or
officers thought, any city that was pillaged by an army ran the risk oftotal
destruction.
At this time Rome was still a badly laid out medieval city. Pigs wan-
dered through streets piled with garbage. Here and there amidst the
ancient ruins there might have arisen a new church or chantry. On the
Vatican Hill St Peter's was still being built, and the Papal Palace was
already stocked with masterpieces. The Sistine Chapel was there, with its
ceiling by Michelangelo and its walls adorned by frescoes by the greatest
artists from Tuscany and Umbria. A census gave the population as just
under
54,000,
though these were not all native Romans. There were people
from various Itahan provinces such as Lombardy and Tuscany, foreigners
from Spain, Germany and France, and refugees from Greece who had
crossed from the Dalmatian coast to Ancona and thence come on to Rome.
There was also a small but active and important group of
Jews. After the
Sack ofRome contemporaries spoke of40,000 dead and 13,600 houses de-
stroyed, and though today such figures are not considered rehable, there is
no doubt at all about the cataclysmic results. Large numbers of the inhabi-
tants fled, including artists who for the most part were not Romans. The
Campagna was depopulated and the value ofland tumbled. The abandoned
farm lands were invaded by marsh weeds that flourished and made an ideal
breeding ground for malarial mosquitoes. Once again things seemed to
have come full circle, and the peasants fled to the surrounding hills to
build new villages round the casteUi.
Three years after the Sack ofRome the horrors
ofwarreachedFlorence,
.
the second capital city of Renaissance Italy. Here the Republican govern-
ment collapsed and power was again seized by the Medici. They were
originally a banking family, distinguished for its wealth and patronage of
the arts, now become sovereign princes and soon to acquire the heredi-
tary title of Grand Duke. ThejCing-oilSpain psrablishedrJas-Authorityin
THE BIRTH OF BAROQUE
Milan and throughout the kingdom of Naples. It seemed indeed that
"nothing in the whole peninsula could be undertaken without the authority
of the Spanish king or the autocratic and active viceroys whom he had
installed, and many refer to this period as the Spanish Predominance in
Italy. Although it would then appear that, liistorically speaking, one could
say it was the end of one epoch and the beginning of another, it was in
fact more a question of a shifting of the centre ofpower.
The city of Venice equalled Rome in beauty and was already rich in
superb churches and great palaces, which were the more astonishing since
they were built on its islands or along its canals. In the coming years
Venice was to grow even more prosperous and benefit by the migrations,
not ofthe ordinary refugee from the South ofItaly, but by an influx ofan
eHte of architects and painters who came to offer their services and who
were promptly employed by the serene Republic. Outstanding amongst
these was Sansovino, who worked on the Doge's Palace, built the Library,
the Zecca and the Palazzo Corner on the Grand Canal [i]. After him came
Palladio and SanmicheH. Even Michelangelo, it is said, submitted a design
for the Rialto. Then there were the painters Giorgione and Titian, who
retained his creative powers into extreme old age and was nearing his
centenary when he died in 1576. Add to them Paulo Veronese, who died
in 1588, and Tintoretto who died in
1594,
and one understands why the
whole of the sixteenth century in Venice is artistically so magnificent, and
is one of the greatest manifestations of the Italian Renaissance.
Neither Rome nor Florence remained crushed for long by their mis-
fortunes. The sixteenth century, wliich had begun so gloriously, and had
then been devastated by so terrible a storm, was soon to witness the de-
velopment ofa new prosperity in Italy.
In general this has been attributed to the major change in world
economy brought about^Jiy^the^-discoveryôOarge deposits of precious
^
metals in Spanish America, TJiese found their wayto European markets,
and caused a rise in prices. The first countries to be affected were Spain and
France, but it was not until the second halfofthe century that this tendency
was felt throughout Italy, and not even then was the high level of prices
uninterrupted; there were periods of deflation, when the markets became
tight. By itself this tendency could not ensure prosperity nor alleviate the
lot ofthe common people. Governments in particular gave an example of
spending far in excess oftheir capital, and the two most powerful fmancial
forces at the timethe privateers and the bankerswere apt to run into
difficulties or become bankrupt. Fortunes changed hands, and the success
or ruin of a patron involved all the tradesmen and artisans in his service.
But the fact remains that more money had brought higher prices, brisker
business, and many blessings in its train. According to some it was not the
primary cause. The Italian economist Cipolla recently suggested that this
influx of money from the Americas only assured some equihbrium in the
economy ofthe day. It encouraged a boom and either hindered or allevia-
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
6 ted a slump, ût in Italy at least the main force behind the system, was the
need for reconstruction after the disasters of
1527
and I53_g.
The restoration of damaged buildings and the construction and furnish-
ing of new ones, whether rehgious, civic or private, affected every aspect
of the national economy. It gave work ahke to the labourer or the most
famous artist, not to mention the carpenters, iron workers, furniture
makers and locksmiths, all of them in turn dependent on the supphers of
foodstuffs and clothing. It is here that we must look for the cause of this
incessant upward trend, which might be now and again retarded by some
misfortune but which continued throughout the period.
In Rome, even on the morrow of the disaster, the Papacy was not dis-
couraged. Six years later Michelangelo, who had himself suffered various
bitter trials and quarrels during his stay in Florence and Venice, returned
to the Eternal City and remained there until his death thirty years later. As
for the pupils ofRaphael, Giulio Romano had settled down in Mantua and
was painting astonishing decorations for the Sala dei Giganti in the Palazzo
del Te
[2],
but the Pope managed to recall Perino del Vaga from Genoa
where he had taken refuge, and he resumed his work in the Vatican and at
the Castel Sant' Angelo. Even Titian passed through Rome and left a
picture of the Farnese pope surrounded by his grandchildren
[3].
In his
last Roman period Michelangelo, as architect, built the dome of St Peter's:
as painter, composed the LastJudgment in the Sistine Chapel: and as sculp-
tor, executed the Pieta in the cathedral in Florence, in wliich the hooded
Joseph ofArimathea, expressive of all the sorrow and pity that an old man
can feel, dominates the group round the dead Christ.
If one contends that the Renaissance was fmished in 1 527 one must surely
also maintain that these works, as well as those of the Venetian school,
with Titian's Assumption in the Frari
[4]
and Tintoretto's Crucifixion in
the Scuola San Rocco, do not belong to the Renaissance. Some may argue
that_jhfLpu;ssiniisticLiiutk)CLkLJkvhickjh.ese tragic years called fortlLwasun_
such contrast to the trmmphantJoyiaiidJiope that had inspired-manhefore
^
and led him to beheve in a better future, that the whole spirit of the
Renaissance had altered. Though the same artists still hved and used the
same techniques, their vision had been so profoundly changed that one
must speak, these critics say, of a new epoch.
J'he
former serenity, the
calm joy that had been inspired by the behef that nature was intelligible
Jr-
and no longer a frightening mystery, had given place to a tortured emo-
.tionalmitlook.
_|_ _
This seems to be taking too narrow a view of the Renaissance..Romain
Rolland, who had rare insight into the minds of the great artists, empha-
sizes that throughout liis life Michelangel_was-aGutely_awê_of tjie^power
of sorrow,^
and that it was indeed a token of liis genius. In the slaves that
were to decorate the tomb ofJuhus II he created 'immortal symbols of
the weariness of living and the revolt against life'.^ These statues were
fmished in
15 16, and it is difficult to imagine that Michelangelo suddenly.
^t
^
I Between 1526 and
1530,
Corrcggio painted the trescoes ot the Assiiiiipnoii oj ilit
Virgin in the ctipola of Parma Cathedral. This detail shows the Virgin uplifted
by putti
one day, imbued his art with a pathos to fit in with tlie theories of art
historians of a later age.
In his native city, Florence, Michelangelo fought against some manifes-
tations of the Florentine Renaissance. Tliis can be seen by looking at the
Old Sacristry of San Lorenzo and then at the New Sacristry. In the first,
the decorations by Brunelleschi are of a restrained perfection, and follow
the lines ofthe architecture so closely that the pleasure they afford is almost
intellectual. In the New Sacristy, in niches carved out of the walls, the
tombs are decorated by figures of Night and Day
[5
&6],
Dawn and
Evening. They fill one with a feeling of mystery and the subhme. Here
passion, distress, contemplation and sorrow meet in a harmony wliich one
would have thought impossible. Michelangelo certainly never breathed
that serene air which surrounds the smiling Virgins ofRaphael, nor did he
achieve the intellectual calm of the Athenian school or understand the
happy grace ofda Vinci.^ Because ofthis he is not outside the Renaissance,
ûjj;ather to be praised for having dramatically infused it with a new and
rich humamty^Ône must not overlook, either, the very compHcated and
numerous threads of influence which bound one artist to another. When
Michelangelo chose to return to Rome under Paul III, his main task was to
complete the building of St Peter's, and there his chief preoccupation was
the crowning of the basilica with a dome, as Bramante had planned. He
was, however, in favour of a more classical design, and turned back to
Florence and to Brunelleschi. He asked for the plan of the cupola of
Santa Maria degli Fiori to be sent him, hoping to enlarge and adapt it to
the largest church in the world.*
Raphael expressed in all he did a sense of such perfect serenity that one
might expect to find it echoed by his followers, but we are faced with
GiuHo Romano painting that tumultuous throng of giants at the Palazzo
del Te in Mantua. The story of the giants storming Olympus gave this
powerful artist an excuse for depicting every frenzy and bestialit}'^ of
which man is capable
[2].
In the Stanze at the Vatican the punishment of
Heliodorus unfolds with every intention of being dramatic, but the com-
position of the pictures is always preserved and the gestures are conven-
tional in comparison with the irruption in the Palazzo del Te. In Mantua,
Giulio had not only found shelter from the general disasters that had over-
whelmed the South of Italy, but also escaped a court sentence that might
well have been imposed on him for his very erratic conduct. It seems as
though his unbridled temperament, which had been checked in Rome,
was now unleashed in the seat of the Gonzagas.
There is another Itahan work ofthe same period which shows an inno-
vation of very different character. If the visitor to Parma passes by the
beautiful baptistry, where the marble has become honey-coloured with
the passing ofcenturies, and enters the Romanesque porch ofthe cathedral
and walks up the nave, he will see at the crossing ofthe transepts the aston-
ishing fresco by Correggio which decorates the cupola [I&y]- It was
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
painted during 1526 to 1530those tragic years for Italy. Much as it be-
hoves any writer on the Baroque to eschew the expression 'sacred dance',
which comes so easily to hand to describe one frequent aspect ofBaroque
art, in this case it is too appropriate not to be used. At the base ofthe cupola
the stone seems to melt into cloud, and there begius a rhythmical move-
ment, really hke a dance, which bears the angels up and ever up. With a be-
wildering fluttering ofwings and graceful hmbs the Virgin, half reclining,
is borne aloft to rejoin her Son. In the centre of the cupola there is one
soHtary angel, clad in blue, who has outflown the rest. The whole scene
has a luminosity which is hardly ofthis world, so heightened is its quahty.
This shows a profound difference from the art ofRaphael. Correggio was
a disciple of Mantegna and da Vinci and did not know the Romans. One
recalls the story ofhow, when he first saw a work by Sanzio, he cried out,
'I too am a painter', recognizing that between the two of them there was
an unbridgeable gulf of temperament and expression. It is not for us here
to try to rate one above the other.
It is abundantly clear that the Renaissance was not only an expression
of balance, or reason, or serenity, but a movement which embraced an
immense variety of styles. Some people seem to fear that if some charac-
teristics of Michelangelo or Correggio that later became common in
Baroque are picked out, it is an attempt to rob the Renaissance of these
great names in order to lend their prestige to a movement which other-
wise could only boast ofmediocrities.^ But Baroque produced much more
than mediocrities; these artists were true sons of the Renaissance and
though they were emancipated children they were neither ungrateful nor
untrue to their parentage. From the immense inheritance of inspiration
and design that was left them, they chose what pleased them and freely
adapted the works of their chosen masters to the needs of their own age.
The Renaissance was spiritually so rich that it gave an opportunity for
the most diverse artists to express the whole gamut of human feehng. It
could embrace passion, violence, anxiety, grace, and above all it could
express the feeling ofmajestic harmony and serenity. So it had been before
the crisis, and so it continued afterwards.
It continued, and it also expanded, for Itahan artists were in demand in
many European countries to produce plans, to build, to decorate or to
paint. France is a good example of this. The kings had brought back
mainly decorators from the first invasions of Italy. The chateaux of the
Loire, for instance, still kept the general outlines ofmedieval fortresses and
all the Itahans were asked to do was to embelhsh them, so that one could
see what Itahan decoration was like.
When Francis I returned from his imprisonment in Spain tilings took a
different turn. More and more buildings showed an Itahan influence, both
in their general planning and the balance that was apparent between the
various parts of the building. Chambord, though its history is still an
unsolved mystery, shows an unmistakable Italian influence which is not
confmed to decorative details, and the courtyard of the Chateau dc la
Rochefoucauld reminds one of the courtyards of palaces in Rome. Then,
at the invitation ofFrancis I, three great Italian artists came to France. The
first two were paintersRosso who arrived in
1530
had spent three years
(from
1524 to
1527)
in Rome, followed in
1532
by il Primaticcio. Ten
years later they were followed by Serlio, who was architect, builder and
theorist. He was by then an old man, and he died in
1554,
but his influence
continued to be felt till the last third of the century. Nor were the three.
Rosso, il Primaticcio and SerHo, merely advisers on artistic matters; they
founded their own studios.
The great gallery at Fontainebleau, which was done by Rosso, is a work
ofremarkable originality
[9].
Allegorical pictures which suggest the power
and glory ofthe king are framed in stucco, which was at the time an Itahan
novelty
[8].
Rosso had such perfect and elegant taste that even the very
generous use of female forms, garlands of fruits and flowers, grotesques
and sphinxes, putti and angels, or the figures of muses gracefully crossing
or uncrossing their legs or the engaged columns with capitals in rehef,
have nothing heavy or gross about them. Occasionally a goddess may
balance a basket or folds of strapwork on her head with an effortless
gesture. The elongated figures and the way they are grouped round the
frescoes and medalhons recall the paintings of Parmigianino in the choir
at Parma, and also the Mannerist phase of the Renaissance, when the artist
claimed the right to interpret reahty after his own fashion and used his
ingenuity or fancy in arranging his lines and masses. As we shall see later,
prints of these decorations at Fontainebleau became one of the sources of
inspiration of French decorative art in the seventeenth century.
Serho also was a bold and imaginative craftsman. In his Rules
of
Archi-
tecture he writes that it is 'a good thing for an architect to be abundant in
ideas' (IV
135).
He himself had a taste for the picturesque and hked using
rustication. He was, however, a Roman who knew the antique and was
also a connoisseur of the classical works of Bramante so that, as a teacher,
he could preach the rules. He stressed the importance of sound construc-
tion; this was in contrast to the past, whose traditions he dismissed as
barbarous and whose works he thought merely showy, for he was not
aware that either skill or good sense might formerly have played a part in
French art.
The middle of the sixteenth century in France saw the publication of a
translation ofVitruvius and the treatise written by Alberti, De Architectura,
as weU as the works of SerHo himself, and though by present-day standards
these books were not widely distributed they were available to builders
and decorators.
Vignola was a great exponent of Vitruvius. Though, when he came to
spend two years at Fontainebleau, he had not yet published liis Rules
of
the
Five Orders
of
Architecture, later to become so well known to French archi-
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
10 tects, yet he had akeady formulated all his ideas and expounded them to
all who came in touch with him.
Even the Itahan Renaissance was rivalled by the French School which,
under the inspiration of Classicism, suddenly flowered, and produced such
artists as Pierre Lescot,
Jean
Goujon, PhiUbert de I'Orme, Bullant and
Pierre Bontemps. Their technique was faultless, what they did was done
with decency and grace, and they are best represented by the facade ofthe
Louvre, or the Fontaine des Innocents. Then, after Francis I, ItaHanate
trends were superseded by a classical Renaissance movement. Paris over-
shadowed Fontainebleau. One might almost say that France was throwing
off the Itahan yoke and perhaps it is significant that in these years, or to be
precise in
1549,
Du Ballay pubhshed his Defense et illustration de la langue
frangaise. The French genius, after its tutelage under the Itahans, wished to
go direct to the original classical sources.
This French Renaissance produced many works of great quahty which
inspired future generations and remained the models and greatest examples
ofthis style, but it neither engaged all the talent then available in France nor
fulfilled all her needs. The very lack of communication and the distance
between the towns ensured the survival ofmedieval traditions which were
in any case stiU popular, and today the important and useful role they
played can be appreciated.
The sixteenth century is indeed more medieval than modem and one
must picture France, at that date, as remaining a peasant country where
most people Hved much the same Hfe as in the preceding century. There
had been little social or economic change; the people were still represented
by their guilds, and thinking much the same thoughts as their fathers had
done before them. Tov^ms affected by the expansion of trade and new
wealth to such a degree that it changed day to day life or led to any re-
building were few in number. And thus it was amongst the artisans or
tradesmen that there grew up an interest in reformed rehgion and a taste
for whatever was then considered modern. Court circles, the ehte of the
great nobles, and the leading figures in the church or banking or com-
merceall those, in short, belonging to the privileged classesformed a
bloc which was opposed to the masses still hving for the most part in
misery or in very moderate circumstances, though it is true that in some
categories the standard of living had improved. Under such conditions it
is not surprising that the old forms and traditions were held on to stub-
bornly.
France, even when the Renaissance movement had become widespread,
remained in many ways Gothic. The Flamboyant style and the Italian were
found side by side, sometimes in contrast and sometimes in combination
with each other. But only an artist of strong convictions was hkely to
adhere strictly to either school. The sculptors and masons who were sus-
ceptible to rival influences gradually acliieved a conglomerate style by
imitating or borrowing this or that motif.
In this, France was not exceptional, for the same thing happened in ii
Germany and the Netherlands. There again Gothic and Renaissance come
face to face and you see elaborate pinnacles or pointed arches side by side
with pilasters decorated with arabesques, or a gabled building with mullion
or ItaHanate windows. In Flanders, Burgundy and around Nuremberg the
rather heavy and comfortable German manner stiU maintained its attrac-
tion after the introduction of the Italian style.
Turning to the Iberian peninsula, the famous window at Thomar [i i
]
or
the marvellous cloisters ofBelem reflect the extraordinary colonial phase of
Portuguese history and are carried out in a flamboyant style which seems
capable of embracing the whole vegetable kingdom, most navigational
instruments, birds, and exotic or Moorish figures. This extraordinary and
overflowing opulence is, in spirit, quite medieval. In Spain there is the
Plateresque, with its mixture of Gothic, Moslem and Itahan influences,
but it was in no way a precursor or herald of the Baroque.
Where medieval art had flourished a more sophisticated movement
grew up inspired by the Roman Renaissance which Charles V had im-
planted at the Alhambra (e.g. the rotunda ofPedro Machuca), and later on,
when the Escorial was built by Herrera, we get a style majestic, regular,
rigorous, possessing a unique and austere grandeur. It belonged to the
golden century for Spain, under the reign of Philip II. It had perhaps
something in common with the birth of the French Renaissance style
under Henri II. In both instances it was a case of the classical with its deep
feehng for pure line (whether expressed in the heavy manner of Spain or
in the more refmed French style) refusing to indulge in the exuberance of
the flamboyant style. Yet in spite of their own intrinsic quahties and in
spite of the influence they had from being favoured by royalty, these
buildings stand rather apart, isolated from the still fertile and virile Gothic
tradition.
The Renaissance continued and showed its capacity to assimilate many
things, but there was also much that it failed to absorb and traditional links
with the older styles cropped up even though they would seem to have
been less adapted to an age which was seeking new values.
We must now face the one essential factor in European history of the
sixteenth century, which was the reHgious crisis. The necessity for some
spiritual reform in Christianity was too urgent not to be universally
recognized. Ecclesiastics were talking of reforming the Church root and
branch. Such a task could only be undertaken by a Council, for its
authority and right to give a lead to the church had been estabhshed after
the momentous meetings ofthe bishops in Geneva and in Basle. One thing,
however, was left in the air, and that was the respective rights ofdie Pope
and the Council. Reform on such a scale called for decisions which were
too great for any Pope to make by himself, but, if they were to carry any
prestige, it was essential that die Pope authorized them. Nothing had been
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
12 decided when suddenly Ludier rebelled against those teachings of Rome
which he found contrary to St Paul and the EvangeHsts, and against
'Works'the Hturgy, the cult of saints, and the hierarchy which seemed
to have triumphed over faith.
Everything was thrown into disorder: the daring theses (though they
were not much more daring than many others that had been pubHshed in
the past), their condemnation by Rome and the burning ofthe Papal Bull
at Wittenberg followed each other with great speed. Christianity, just as
it was hoping to gain new strength, was faced with a new schism. Schism
it had faced often enough before, but this was something more serious. It
was indeed the birth of modern Europe. However difficult it is to sketch
briefly this profound crisis, where so many different influences were at
work, it is at least clear that it was a religious question, the question of
salvation, that was dominant and is the key to everything else. Salvation
by faith was agreed on by everyone. But what part did works play?
Certainly redemption was through the sacrifice on the Cross, and its
repetition in the Eucharistbut how should one interpret the Eucharist?
Was it necessary to beheve in transubstantiation or was it possible to
retain an open mind on this? It was unanimously agreed that original sin
had infected all, and could only be washed away by baptism. Baptism and
Holy Communion were essential sacraments, but must one also include
confirmation, marriage, extreme unction, penance (and what form of
penance?) or obedience as essential sacraments? Was there, taking into
account what the ancient authorities had deemed sacramental, a fixed
number ofsacraments? Then, if the cult ofsaints, and especially the cult of
the Blessed Virgin, were encouraged, was there not a risk that these per-
sonal cults might not detract from the supreme homage we owe to the
Creator? Another question arose about the Church as teachercould it
claim any source of inspiration except Holy Script, or did the Fathers of
the Church, the Councils, and the Pronouncements ofthe Popes also carry
authority? Then, while these doctrinal and moral problems were being
debated, questions were raised about the duties of bishops and priests
toward the faithful; how frequently, for instance, should a behever be
obhged to partake ofthe Holy Sacrament?
These wearisome debates went on for eighteen years, though there were
interminable interruptions and such long gaps that it seemed as though the
Council would be faced with a stalemate and never resume its deUbera-
tions. But the Catholic church managed to extract something from them;
it could hardly be called a new doctrine, and even less a comprehensive
doctrine, for many points were left in suspense, to be clarified at a later
date (some still await an answer today), but it did form a collection of
definitions which were more precise than in the past. They were also more
imperious: any opposition to them was anathema. Finally a whole
body of dogmas and principles was estabhshed, wliich made it clear that
most of the tenets held by the Lutherans and Calvinists were heretical.
This applied more to the Calvinists whose doctrine was harsher and more 1
3
intransigent than that of the Lutherans who had, even as the Council
was sitting, elaborated and reaffirmed them.
One refers to the Counter-Reformation, which is a not very appropriate
term invented by historians. It was rather a Catholic Reformation, and one
fraught with many consequences. There were to be seven sacraments by
which the faithful might partake of the grace of God, Most of these
enhanced the power ofthe clergy, for only they could bless the elements of
the Holy Sacrament, give remission of sins, or, if of the requisite rank,
ordain. Bishops were supposed to take up residence in their dioceses, in-
struct the people in doctrine and see that the liturgy was read in a decent
and, ifpossible, in an imposing manner. They were also charged to recruit
catechumens and see that they were suitably instructed in the seminaries.
The parish priest desired a new dignity from the sacraments which he alone
could administer. The monastic orders were reformed and the ecclesiastical
liierarchy, with its house restored to order, could oppose its own point of
view to the Protestant conception of a sacerdotalism common to the
whole Christian community. Transubstantiation had at last been recog-
nized and defmed. It was no longer a matter ofthe congregation partaking
of the sacrament; the worship of the host was nowjustified, and the Real
Presence might be revered when a host was exposed on an altar or carried
in a procession.
The cult of Saints, and even more markedly the cult of the Blessed
Virgin, was allowed and encouraged, though the faithful were to be care-
fully instructed about the intercession of saints, their invocation, and the
respect which should be paid to their reHcs, as well as the lawful use of
saintly images. But, while justifying and encouraging this cult of images,
the Council prohibited anything to be placed in a church that might en-
courage false opinions or superstitions that were contrary to the orthodox
faith. The whole rehgious iconography was, in short, taking on a new
shape.
Religion was making a new appeal. Primarily it was based upon a com-
bination of mysticism and discipline, but now everyday things acquired a
new spiritual and sacramental significance. Apart from the cult of saintly
images there were rosaries, and other sacred objects such as the branches
distributed on Palm Sunday, or holy water, bread and candles that had
been blessed, or harvests and houses for which one had sought divine pro-
tection. CathoHc rehgion became, in many ways, tangible and it was
precisely against diis that the Protestant Reformation as a whole protested,
holding such things to be sacrilegious and idolatrous. It was for them to
shield God and Christ from all these contaminations and profanations.
The Council had, however, come to no hard and fast conclusions, and
in the bustle and scurry which characterized their last meetings many
questions were left unanswered. Many ofthe Fathers felt that, \vithout any
sacrifice of principle, some concessions might be made to reconcile the
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
14
Church and the Lutherans, who had no desire at all to become heretics.
Throughout the Empire the partaking ofthe Holy Sacrament by bread or
by wine was canvassed with such fervour that the efficacy ofthe one or the
other element hardly came into question. Nor did the Council condemn
either view. It affirmed that Christ, as God and Man, was present in each;
that anyone denying or doubting this was anathema. By even preferring
that the faithful should be content by the sacrament of bread alone, they
made enemies of and alienated all those who demanded the chahce. The
Virgin Mary was accorded a status more glorious than any other being,
but it was not decided if it was necessary to beHeve that she had been
spared original sinthe Immaculate Conceptionor had bodily, like
Christ, ascended into heaven.
Only the Pope, Bishop of Rome and First of the Bishops, had enough
authority to decide on these questions, but though the matters were re-
ferred to him there was no implication that his judgment would be in-
faUible, superior or more authoritative than the decisions of the Council.
At this date it was also not clear to what extent the Pope, as a rehgious
leader, should be allowed to interfere in affairs which a nation considered
secular, or how far a sovereign might legislate in things that could affect
reHgion.
Bishops from aU over Christendom flocked to the Council. But no
German bishop who had gone over to the Reformation came, or sought
reconciliation. The English king Henry VIII, who had so thundered
against Lutheranism that he had become Defender of the Faith, had quar-
relled with the Pope and broken with Rome even before the Council met.
When it finished England was still, in spite ofthe five years ofCathohcism
under Mary Tudor, estranged, and the AngHcan Church had entered into
communion with the Protestants in Scandinavia.
It also seemed probable that other nations might, for nationahstic or
poHtical reasons, break away. At certain times Charles V (as Emperor and
King of Spain) and Henri II of France were both at loggerheads with the
Council. It was mainly due to the German bishops and in some sessions
also, surprisingly enough, to the French that new breaches were avoided.
More important than this, together they helped to bring about the resur-
gence ofa church that had renewêd its faith and was again solidly attached
to its Supreme Head. Yet the result was that Europe still remained spht in
two, and the rehgious map had to be drawn again.
At first sight it looks as though northern Europe was opposed to
Mediterranean Europe, but it was not so simple as that, for both Flanders
and Poland remained faithful to the Roman Church, and the feehng that
they were encircled by heretics made their adherence fanatical. But there
can be no doubt at all that the Council, which had been mainly the work
of the Itahan, Spanish and French clergy, did define a church that in
many respects was best suited to Latin countries. It is worth noting also
that just when Italy of the Renaissance was producing masterpieces of
I The Library, Venice, by Sansovino: 'A complex design on the grand scale, with
two porticos, the lower one Doric, the upper Ionic, embelhshed with testoons
and a multipHcity of ornaments.' (A. Chastel, L'Art Italicn,
p. 42)
Titian's portrait ofPope Paul III and his Grandsons is one of the hnest in existence
and one of the painter's greatest works. The Pope's indomitable energy gives
renewed vigour and hfe to a body ravaged with age
LEFT, hi his frescoes for the Hall of Giants at the Palazzo del Te, Giuho Romano
drew on mythological themes to reveal, through the features of the giants
besieging Olympus, all the madness and bestiaht}' that can break out in man
In Titian's Assumption
of
the I 'inîii: 'The Virgin soars Heavenward, not helpless
in the arms of angels, but borne up by the fullness of life within her, and by the
feeling that nothing can check her course.' (Bernard Bcrenson, The Italian
Painters
of
the Renaissance,
p. 19)
Statues ot Night (above) and Day, by Michelangelo, in a composition which
flouts all the laws of balance, give rise to feelings of detachment and ofprofound
grief, and are sublime for that very reason
7
The stone at the base of the cupola in Correggio's Assumption
of
The Virgin in
Parma Cathedral seems to be transformed into cloud and the angels carrying the
semi-rccunibcnt Virgin are uplifted in a rhythmic movement, as in a dance
The Francis I Gallery at Fontainebleau (below), decorated in stucco, an Italian
innovation, framing the frescoes (above). The mythological subjects symboHc-
ally celebrate the power and grandeur of the King
^v
^'**^' *
, T^li^^^^^^^
*
10 The mural of the Grand Council Chamber in the Doge's Palace was painted by
Tintoretto between 1587 and 1890. It is believed to be the largest picture in the
%.
%,
J>y.
\k
.'
**
l*w
Hjl'îw. -^^-.
f-
ik
^
^-^z
^
*
"
world. Nearly five hundred figures are grouped round the Virgin and Christ in
a dazzling assembly
II
The Spanish critic, Eugcnio d'Ors, discovered the essential features of Baroque
emphasis on the picturesque, a profound sense of movement and a propensity

for the theatrical and lavishin the window of the Chapter House of Thomar
12 I
The Benediction Loggia at St John Lateran is by Fontana. who worked on the
rebuilding of Rome under Sixtus V. Tliis building, with its two orders, doric
and Corinthian, has a monumental but rather cold eletrance
13
A return to the characteristic features of a triumphal arch and the tradition of
Santa Maria Novella achieves a majestic, symmetrical and austere effect in the
fa(;:adc of the church of the Gcsu bv Giacomo della Porta
14 The interior of the Gesu is Vignola's masterpiece, with its side chapels, the open-
ing of the dome over the transept, and the shallow apse. It adapts the tradition ot
the basihca to new needs
15 lilI-t. Santa Susanna, built by Madcrna in 1603, is the first fa(jade to herald the 16
Baroque, right. The facade of Sant Andrea dclla Valle, by Rainaldi, is one ofthe
most beautiful Baroque churches in Rome
LEFT. In Santa Maria dclla Vittoria, Soria's reversion to simplicity shows a pre-
dilection for the archaic, right. SS Vincenzo e Anastasio, by Lunghi the Youn-
17
ger, has vertically grouped, organ-like columns 18
19
a
The facade of SS Luca e Martina, biiilt by Pietro da Ct^rtona in 1634.
is ex-
pansive in character and introduces a new quaHt\' to Baroque arcliitecture
20 The fa(;adc of Santa Maria in Via Lata, by Pietro da Cortona, has a two-storeyed
porch consisting of two galleries of columns, one above the other
sculpture and painting in such abundance, there was no talk of condemn-
1
5
ing the cult of images. Another point that is no less remarkable is the role
played by a new order founded in 1540 by the Spaniard Ignatius Loyola,
which originally only recruited its members in Spain or Italy. Yet it
was the Jesuits who throughout the meetings of the Council took the
lead, suggesting innovations or clarifying definitions, and it was they
who really left their mark, and a very Latin mark it was, upon the whole
undertaking. The church that was born of the Council's labours was
nevertheless only a concept. It has recognized what principles and basic
quaUties it stood for, and how to propagate them, but it still remained
to translate ideals into reahties, and this was an immense task which the
Fathers reahzed would entail bitter struggles and engage all the energies
of many succeeding generations. Thus the '6o's of the century saw the
beginning of a new enterprise, which was to regenerate the clergy in
every land, and fight heresy, which showed no signs of dying after being
condemned by the Council of Trent. It seemed, rather, to take on a new
lease of hfe.
In 1563 the Council rose and the Wars of ReHgion in France reached
their cHmax. It would be a great mistake to think that Protestantism was
checked by any decisions reached at Trent. It had never been more
vigorous, nor appealed more strongly to the conscience of mankind. For
the space offorty or fifty years the battle went on and no one knew what
the outcome would be. It would equally be a mistake to think that the
Edict ofNantes put an end to the rehgious wars, for how but as a reHgious
war can one explain the sudden attack on Russia at the beginning of the
seventeenth century by Poland and Sweden? The Russia ofBoris Godonov
was weak, famine-stricken, and an easy prey for her neighbours; but there
are many signs that it was looked upon as a reHgious undertaking and both
Catholic Poland and Lutheran Sweden combined to attack a schismatic
and idolatrous country given over to the worship of icons. And, thirteen
years later, the war which broke out after the Defenestration of Prague
was, to begin with, a reHgious war, though, taking the Thirty Years'
War as a whole, poHtical influences became paramount.
The new spirit of CathoHcism was no longer content to leave com-
munities ofthe faithful more or less self-contained. It wished to weld them
together under one discipline, to teach a standardized doctrine, and inspire
them by the same devotions. This was something new in Europe. It is
useless to look for any defmite date or particular event to mark the end of
the Renaissance, but after the Trentine Council new tendencies appear in
Europe which would have been quite aHen to Renaissance feeling.
Rome underwent great changes. The Popes were determined to give
her a dignity which would be worthy of 'a country common to aU Chris-
tian peoples', as Pius V said in
1565,
or, as Sixtus V described it, 'the home
ofthe Christian reHgion'. Ifit were to become this and attract the faithful
from aU lands it was obviously essential that it should be both accessible
c
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
1 6 and beautiful. Pilgrims who came to make the round of the five great
basihcas must be able to proceed from one to the other by well-paved and
direct roads, and cross the Tiber by new and safe bridges. To quote
Sixtus V again, 'Rome does not only need divine protection and sacred and
spiritual power, but also beauty which ensures convenience and worldly
ornamentation.'
This preoccupation with town-planning, to use a modem term, was not
pecuhar to the Popes of the Counter-Reformation, but had already en-
gaged their predecessors of the Renaissance. Juhus II, on the advice of
Bramante, had driven a long straight road, the Via GiuHa, down the left
bank ofthe Tiber to carry traffic from the Ponte Sisto to another projected
bridge that was never built. An ambitious programme, which was per-
petually being changed and enlarged as Pope succeeded Pope, was mainly
carried out in the second halfofthe sixteenth century. It was then that the
Corso linking the Porto del Popolo with the Palazzo San Marco was laid
out, as well as the avenues which radiate from the Piazza del Popolo, lead-
ing to the river and to the Trinita dei Monti, and the road which runs from
the Trinita dei Monti down to the Tiber.
The Borgo was remodelled and both the Vatican and Quirinal were
built. Fountains were constructed to supply water to all parts of Rome.
The work on St Peter's went on, but now Vignola and Giacomo della
Porta were following up the work of Michelangelo.
Ofall the 'building Popes' Sixtus V, though he was Pontifffor only five
years, stands out as the most enterprising and the one most inspired by
Tridentine feeling. His particular devotion to the Virgin led him to plan
Santa Maria Maggiore as the centre of a new town which would stretch
to the hills and link up with the city at the Campo Marzio. He involved
his architect, Domenico Fontana, in the most surprising and daring under-
takings of shifting ancient obehsks and re-erecting them magnificently in
the centre of a piazza. By placing a cross on top of an obehsk, and using
these treasures of the antique world merely as pedestals for the symbol of
Christianity, he expressed the defeat ofpaganism by the new faith, and in
the same way statues ofPeter and Paul were used to crown the Trajan and
Antonine columns.
Everywhere churches were being built. Rome had already become
superb, and pilgrims discovered to their deHght that it was the most lovely
city in Europe. Its population had doubled since the time of Clement VII.
Every cardinal who had a titular church in Rome had to rebuild or restore
it. New ordersOratorians, Jesuits, Dominicans, Augustines and Car-
mehtesthe various guilds, the foreign colonies in Rome (e.g. the Lom-
bards, Spaniards, Germans or French) and pious individuals all competed
with each other to such an extent that, quite apart from St Peter's, no less
than fifty-three churches or chapels were built or restored during the
century.'
It was then that Rome acquired those characteristics that stamp it still
today. It became that extraordinary city of religion where the churches, 1
7
far too many for reUgious needs, are crowded together so thickly that one
is tempted to call them unnecessary and superfluous. They look like tem-
porary altars that have somehow taken root along the path of a proces-
sion. But in its general plarming, with broad streets linking up the Campo
Marzio, the Capitol and the seven hills. Papal Rome of the Counter-
Reformation displayed the most advanced layout to be found anywhere in
Europe. The town planners ofthe nineteenth and twentieth centuries had
little to contribute that was not inspired by plans which had been drawn
up if not carried out by the Popes.
It is difficult to describe exactly the aesthetic behind this robustly logical,
geometrical arrangement of the city, with the long vistas leading to an
obelisk or church facade. Was it not perhaps more Renaissance in feeling,
in the tradition ofAlberti and Bramante, than in harmony with the seven-
teenth century, which was turning away from their principles to develop
quite a different style? In any case, though the town planning of Rome
which had been encouraged by the Council may have prolonged the
Renaissance here, in other fields it was obvious that there was a conflict of
styles. The pagan models and the beauty of form which had appealed so
strongly to the Renaissance mind appeared detestable to a church which
considered itself more Christian, and condemned both sensuous and
imaginative pleasures. The austere Pius V was so shocked by the Last
Judgment that the nude figures which Michelangelo had seen as serene or
tragic rather than sensual were decently overpainted with modest bits of
clothing. It was he too who was responsible for those surprising fig leaves
which have ever since sullied the antique statues in the Vatican
Museum.
The spirit of the Counter-Reformation, as it broke away from the
Renaissance, had certainly nothing in common with the ostentation,
audacity and richness of imagination which were soon to become the
hallmark ofthe Baroque. Baroque was expansive, generous and audacious:
this was timid, arid and cramped. But there is no doubt that this rehgious
revolution, that had spHt Europe in two and added a Western schism to
the one already dividing Rome from the Orthodox Church, was respon-
sible for the new values and opinions in countries that still remained
CathoHc.
There are other new values that we must take into account. Historians are
divided in their approach towards the poHtical events in the second halfof
the sixteenth century. One used to talk in terms of Spanish supremacy.^
Charles V, who abdicated in 1556,
may not have been able to resurrect
that dream ofthe Middle Ages or the Age ofChivalry in which all Europe
was under one Emperor or owed him allegiancea dream which, inci-
dentally, inspired the stained glass in St Gudule at Brussels, where the
Emperor kneels in prayer surrounded by all his family, each one a king
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
or prince of a great country. But Philip II did at least extend his rule far
outside Spain, to Flanders, Portugal, Naples and Milan, and it was touch
and go whether he would add France to his Empire. In 1571, in concert
with Venice, his arms and his fleet had won the resounding victory of
Lepanto and dehvered all Christendom from the threat ofIslam. Without
detracting from the glory of Lepanto, it was a victory that led nowhere.
Today a new interpretation is put forward. The main factor in the
economic and social history of the times is the fate of the Mediterranean.
It was not due to the inevitable dechne caused by the great traffic routes
moving north and basing themselves on Atlantic ports so much as
to the ideological battle waged by this region 'closely knit, cultured and
thoroughbred . . . against giant adversaries'.^ Throughout the Mediter-
ranean economic strength was stiU assured by the maritime cities: Valen-
cia, Genoa, Venice with its sateUites, and Constantinople, or by the com-
mercial centres such as Milan, Nuremberg, or Lyons through which
accounts could be cleared, foreign exchange bought, and goods forwarded.
Europe exported cloth, linen and iron and received oriental spices, silks
and precious metals in exchange. Territorial states, which had superseded
a dilapidated feudalism, took the lead from the towns and were prepared
to launch forth armies to defend their interests or to conquer.
In Western Europe, England, Spain and France, all of them bound
geographically to an interest in the new Atlantic undertakings, became
monarchies as centrahzed as the times allowed, though centrahzation was
hindered both by slow and bad communications, and a strong provincial
feeHng for traditional rights. It was, nevertheless, these three States that
counted. Even then the monarchies were growing at the expense of
the towns and of the middle classes, which had less and less to say, and
became swallowed up by the State. Such a change was bound to have
many different consequences. One was the way the middle classes invested
their capital. They bought either land or office, for the State found that
the sale ofpubHc office was a better source ofrevenue than taxation. This
hunger for land or, even more, for a governmental concession became a
major phenomenon in European society from the Age ofDiscovery, when
capital was used largely to expand trade throughout the world, to the
Machine Age, that only began in the eighteenth century and then took an
unbehevable time to merge into industriaHzation and the consequent
growth of the towns.
In the meantime, landed property was at a premium from Spain to
Russia (which injustice should be considered as part of Europe and not
relegated to Asia). One can detect this trend far more easily than explain
the fundamental reasons behind it. Land was put up for sale because often
the feudal rents, paid in silver, no longer provided sufficient income for the
landlord, or because the new widespread habit of luxurious Hving led
many of the leading famihes to hve beyond their income. They scarcely
knew what dangers they were running into. They fell into debt and when
at last the bill was presented there was nothing to do but sell out their 19
hereditary estates.
In Russia the case was slightly different. The Emperors, from Ivan the
Terrible to Peter the Great, suffered from a lack ofready money; therefore
ministers or marshals were given temporary territorial rights in lieu of
salaries, and were expected to live upon the revenues. Certainly landed
property did not always remain entailed, and when land was for sale it
was snapped up immediately, for anyone with capital wished to invest it
in land. This may have been due to the land hunger which was a charac-
teristic of the peasantry who had for centuries been the backbone of all
European countries. It might, on the other hand, be caused by the petty
outlook of people who could not reaHze the opportunities of commerce
that had been opened up by the new sea and overland routes or created by
the new banksthough these, it is true, tended to enrich only a few in-
dividuals. There are two more weighty factors that came into play: one
purely selfish, and one which combined self-interest with a certain amount
ofideaHsm.
One can understand tradesmen and business men being attracted to buy
land for purely mercenary reasons, for, although the primitive methods of
tiUing the soil meant that the farm labourer led a miserable and penurious
Hfe, the landovôier could get a great deal out ofit. In the first place it was
a stable investment which, even if it did not bring in much, was at least
free fom those catastrophic disasters which might from one day to the next
overwhelm a bank or a trading concern. The landlords who were faced
with ruin and wished to sell their estates had, for the most part, landed
themselves in trouble not because their estates could not be made to pay,
but for other reasons. Those who bought the estates were convinced that
they would not be so stupid or so unfortunate as the previous owners.
When we consider other motives that might compete with pure greed
we must remember the prestige conferred by becoming a land owner.
There were some aristocratic estates that were exempt from taxation al-
together. Both these and the estates held by commoners (between them
they comprised nearly all the manors) allowed the landlord to collect
various feudal dues, paid either in money or in kind. One could be certain
ofmagisterial and market fees, toll charges, right ofescheat, or the sale of
monopoHes, all of which remained a steady source of income even when
money in every country had become unstable. But probably the fact that .
to own land made one a petty local king was most important of all. To
dismiss this as mere vanity is to echo a judgment reached by a later genera-
tion hving in a quite different form ofsociet}\ It was not so simple as that.
Manorial rights might bring present satisfaction but they were also looked
on as a guarantee for tlie future. Here it is wordi quoting Colbert, who is
justly renoviTied for his plans for expanding commerce and industry. It
was he who said that in buying land one thinks of a family possession
which is not ephemeral but will last and be inherited by generations of
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
20 descendants. Above vanity or vîsh of gain there is almost a combination
ofreligious and family feeling about land.
During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries one can see throughout
Europe this tendencythe impoverished aristocracy seUing land and the
nouveaux riches buying it; the only thing that remained unaltered was the
prestige still enjoyed by the landowners. Everywhere the old famihes were
giving place to new. In the Papal states the Savelli, who had for many
generations been barons, sold their demesnes to the parvenus Chigi, and
sons of bankers, like the Ruspoh, Serlupi or the Ceuh took over ancient
estates. In France, foreign merchants such as the Ruiz, who had a counting-
house in Nantes, obtained their naturahzation locally and bought territory
nearby in Haute-Goulaine.^*^ One can look at it from various angles.
Some contemporary Czech historians have dubbed it 'the second servi-
tude', referring to the fate ofthe peasants who had risen to manorial rank.
M. Braudel on the other hand sees the respect that came from ovôiing land
as being one with aristocratic presumption.
To own land and be lord ofa manor was social advancement. 'No land
without gentry' might be a doubtful proposition; but no one doubted
that 'No land, no gentleman' was true. As long as pubhc opinion accepted
and approved the dues and stiU more the honours paid to the owners of
land (honours unknovvm. by the bourgeoisie), one cannot be surprised that
the general tendency was to create a new peerage if an ancient family
became extinct or was ruined. The nobihty and gentry must be retained.
It was however a nobihty that was on more of a manorial than a feudal
pattern. The old mihtary and fmancial dues which a vassal paid his suzerain
had by no means disappeared, but to emphasize them unduly would be
distorting the picture. The rights and the rents to which a seigneur or lord
of the manor was entitled formed an entity and, theoretically, one could
possess these even if one did not own a square foot of land, though in
nearly every case the land and the rights were held by the same person.
An estate might be managed by the owner himself, or farmed out to some
merchant who, in his turn, might perhaps sublet it to the peasants.
As prices rose in the sixteenth century, those lands which were most
suitable for letting out became more sought after by the new landlords,
and, in a good year, the tenant also could make a good profit, which
more than repaid his rent. Other more practical landowners preferred to
reap the profit themselves, and increased their own holdings. So the
manors expanded at the cost of adjoining small holdings, which were
either bought or acquired by barter, and the landowner could also call
upon the labour of those he had bought out by the feudal right o corvee
or instead receive payments in kind. In the end it led to a new sort ofserf-
dom. The landowners had an interest in retaining labour which could
make their lands pay. The labourers almost inevitably conformed to this
pattern.
The most striking example of this can be found in Russia, where serf-
dom under the Czars survived longer than in any other country, but the 21
pattern was repeated in many other countries. In more advanced countries
where the economic pattern was not so rigid, one finds that this growth of
estates did not last long, and the agricultural labourers did not again re-
lapse, without protest, into serfdom. By buying up land at the expense of
the peasant and the petty nobility, the great Polish and Bohemian nobles
were able to augment their meagre feudal dues either by founding fish
hatcheries in Central Bohemia or by growing grain and setting up brewer-
ies in the valley ofthe Vistula.
Society became more rigid, and in a sense more stable. The land workers
became reconciled to their lot, and even took on the rehgion which their
master chose. However great their misery they no longer engaged in
senseless and violent riots which were, in any case, quickly suppressed by
the regular soldiers. This was a development which was apparent in both
CathoHc and Protestant countries ahke, but the Catholic conception of a
hierarchical world, here and hereafter, reflected more closely the contem-
porary situation. One has only to think of the Tintoretto in the Doge's
Palace, where God in His glory, the Virgin, angels and saints all have
their proper rank and precedence
[10].
That was not the main reason why
the Counter-Reformation succeeded, but, once it was estabhshed, it drew
strength from the pohtical and social tendencies of the time.^^
The Jesuits had undoubtedly played the major role at the Council of
Trent and they were probably the most efficient proselytizing force ofthe
Counter-Reformation, but whether they founded a particular style of
architecture or painting is still a moot point. Some authorities would like
to call the whole Baroque movement Jesuitical, but to find out if this is
justifiable it is worth considering their mother church in Rome, the Gesu.
It has a dome supported by an octagonal drum; it is neither tall nor big
enough to dominate the skyline ofRome. But ifyou see the Gesu from the
Aventine it has a purity of line which can outclass anything built in the
Piazza Navona, the Corso or the church of San Carlo ai Catinari near the
Campo di Fiore. Or ifyou approach it from the Corso Vittorio Emmanuele
the two storeys of the facade, with the great volutes supporting the tri-
angular pediment, so dominate the vista that they seem almost to block
the road
[13].
The interior is richly and ostentatiously decorated, and the
cupola is not only painted with astonishing virtuosity but its Hnes are
broken by stucco work which gives movement to the whole work
[14].
In
the left transept there is the astonishing gilded bronze altar of St Ignatius,
framed by pillars of lapis lazuh, and crowned by a representation of the
Trinity
[ 1 44]
. TheFather andthe Son are bothshov^m bylarge statues in white
with garments carved from coloured marble, the Holy Ghost is sho\\Ti by
a dove in glory, and between them the world is represented by a vast ball
of lapis lazuli. To a casual visitor who cannot be bothered to unravel the
significance ofthese decorations this profuse richness is apt to be repellent.
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
22 It does not appeal to those who hke the rehgiosity of the Gothic style or
the sombre dignity ofthe Romanesque. It is equally far removed from the
classical churches of the Renaissance. The restrained and pure lines of the
church of the Consolation at Todi, which has been attributed to Bramante
himself, has nothing in common with it. Sometimes the decoration can be
so distracting that one overlooks the most noteworthy characteristics of
the church: the single nave bordered by side-chapels, the ground plan of
a Latin cross, the shallow semicircular apse without any ambulatory, the
tall plain glass windows to admit the varying dayhght.
Certainly no church better qualifies to be called Baroque than the Gesu
as it now stands. Nor can one deny the Jesuit influence in the most sump-
tuous and highly decorated Baroque churches. Let us take two examples,
both dating from the beginning of the eighteenth century: the first is St
Nicolas de Mala Strana in Prague which was built by the Tyrolean archi-
tects, the elder Dientzenhofer and his son. Here the interplay and move-
ment created by the contrasting columns, the profusion of bronze and
stucco, the dramatic postures of the statues give an almost dance-Hke
effect
[176].
The second is the Jesuiti in Venice, which appears at first sight
to be hung with cut velvet draperies of green palms on a white ground. It
needs an effort to reaUze that this is a trompe Voeil of amazing virtuosity
carried out in incrustated marble. Even the crumpled drapery over the
pulpit is of marble. The facades, the first of two orders, and the second of
three, also remind us in their general hnes of the Gesu. Yet to dub these
churches 'Jesuit' is far-fetched. One would have to presuppose that the
Jesuits, from the foundation of their order created an entirely new style of
building and decoration, that they then exercised a monopoly in it, and
that it was they who spread this style, with variations, throughout Cathohc
Europe. The problem was discussed with aU his scientific authority by
Pierre Lavedan, and art historians have long since acknowledged as equally
mistaken the idea that there was a separate 'Jesuit style' or that the Baroque
style should be described as 'Jesuitical'.
It is only too easy to point out the apparent contradiction between the
vows of poverty taken by the Jesuits and the richness of the order: its
dehght in highly ornamented chapels, its rich hbraries, fanciful belles
lettres, its contests in oratory and its theatrical shows. Every majorrehgious
order, even while professing poverty and the lack ofworldly possessions,
had been left enough by generous patrons (and gained even more by wise
investment of these gifts) to decorate their churches or monasteries in so
strikingly a sumptuous manner that any idea ofpoverty was never hinted
at. Another fallacy is to think that the Jesuits were founded as a teaching
order, to educate the children of the great. The education of youth was
certainly not the first tiling that Ignatius Loyola had in mind. He was more
concerned with preaching the gospel to the heathen, even in the remotest
parts of the world, and leading back dissidents to the Cathohc faith. What
is almost as important, both he and his companions thought that there
1 1 Guercino's painring ot Aurora in the Casino Ludovisi, Rome, is "an extraordinary
work, in which the new feehng for landscape and atmosphere give nnexpected
hfe and force to the antique allegory'. (A. Michel, Histoirc del' Art, VA. VI,
p. 92)
was an urgent necessity to add dignity to divine service and express the 23
praise ofGod in the beauty ofritual.
This new militant order again showed originality in demanding that
every member of the society should be available to be sent wherever his
superiors might decide. They must be mobile, they must be practical, and
because ofthis they were excused from long sessions ofprayer in the choir.
Their duty was to preach, to expound to the people the meaning of the
ceremonies to which they were bidden and to teach them to sing the glory
ofGod and the saints in the canticles. ReHgious buildings, erected either by
the Jesuits or for them, had to take this into consideration.
A large choir, which was right and also suitable for the Benedictines,
Carthusians, and Cistercians, and which had become customary with the
mendicant orders, now lost its point. It had become more important that
the acoustics of the church should be good, so that the sermon or the
canticles might be plainly heard, and that the hght should be strong enough
to ensure that the congregation could see every gesture of the officiating
priest and follow in their missals the prayers offered up by the celebrant. A
clearly Ht church was the obvious answer in a society which, for the last
century now, had been accustomed to having printed books. Nothing
could be more natural than that the Jesuits should have their ownprefer-
ence in architecture and favour their own manner
'// modo nostra' . But

that was a very different thing from systematically imposing one inflexible,
orthodox style.
So far as the Gesu is concerned, we now know the history ofits building.
In the last years ofhis Hfe, St Ignatius thought it necessary that the Jesuits
should have some church in the centre of Rome where their adherents
might congregate, for every year they became more eager to hear the
offices and sermons oftheir Fathers in Rome. At first they had to make do
with an old and inconvenient church, Santa Maria della Strada. To bmld a
large church in a quarter of the city that was already densely populated
would mean a great outlay to purchase the site alone, and then there was
the expense of buying up the leaseholds. The Jesuits, in fact, had to find a
generous patron. They discovered him in Cardinal Alessandro Famese, a
nephew of the late Pope Paul III. He was a prelate of great magnificence.
Nevertheless, hke most of the cardinals of his day, though he was in
possession of enormous revenues, he spent them so prodigally that it was
not always certain that on any given date he would be able to honour his
promises.
In 1562 the Cardinal let the Vicar-General of the JesuitsLainez, who
had succeeded St Ignatiusknow that he was prepared to give forty
thousand ecus in the next four years toward the building ofa church, but
it was only six years later that anything came of this. The Cardinal then
arrived in Rome, bringing vdth him his architect Vignola, who was al-
ready famous. Ofthe many plans submitted to him the Cardinal selected
the most sumptuous and began discussing them with Francesco Borgia,
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
24 who had succeeded Lainez as General of the Society. Though he by no
means dishked Vignola's plans, Borgia knew that Cardinal Famese was
certainly not able to meet all the costs, and was afraid that too ambitious
a plan would land the Society into such fmancial difficulties that he would
be crippled in carrying out his other duties. Things were further comph-
cated since the General had himselfsummoned an architect to Rome from
Ferrara. He was Giovanni Tristano, who for several years had been work-
ing for theJesuits both in Italy and abroad. Tristano knew better than any-
one the practical difficulties which had to be faced. There was no quarrel
nor indeed any real opposition between the two architects: the famous
Vignola, upon whom Cardinal Farnese insisted, and the obscure person
whom Borgia had brought in because of his speciahzed knowledge.
Vignola's plans were superb and Giovanni Tristano only raised certain
practical objections to them, which both the Cardinal and Vignola ac-
cepted. On one thing, however, the Cardinal was insistent: the church
must be magnificent. The flat ceiling which Tristano wished to have,
because it would both improve the acoustics and recall the ancient
basihcas which he so much admired, was turned down as not being grand
enough. So a vaulted ceiling, which could more easily be decorated in the
grand manner, was chosen.
In 1568, the foundation stone was laid, and a medal was struck to
celebrate this. The obverse shows a fine broad facade, in two orders. The
second stage is not voluted, but shows great richness of decoration and is
crowned by a pediment, pyramids and statuary
[13].
The actual work was
entrusted not to Vignola, who had already received quite considerable fees
for his plans, but to Father Tristano, and in the course of building some
modifications were introduced. Several other architects were asked to sub-
mit alternative designs for the fa9ade and, to Vignola's bitter disappoint-
ment, his, that had been stamped on the medal, was abandoned in favour
of the design by Giacomo della Porta. This was a more sombre composi-
tion, which put added emphasis on the verticals, and was reminiscent of
the balance one sees in a Renaissance facade or the harmonious lines which
Alberti gave to Santa Maria Novella in Florence. Tristano remained the
official architect for the Gesu until his death in
1575,
when the post was
taken over by Father Rosis.
It is extremely difficult to fmd out exactly who was responsible for what
by the time the building was completed. The creative inspiration certainly
came from Vignola, who had quahties ofimagination that Tristano quite
lacked. The majestic breadth ofthe Gesu is due to him, and if we compare
it with Tristano's work in the Jesuit churches at Perugia or Forh, it is
clear that Vignola is a master of quite a different caHbre.
Some have seen an affinity between the Gesu and the superb church of
Sant'Andrea which Alberti built at Mantua
[16].
There also we fmd the
single nave; the pillars which support the arches of the side chapels are
flanked by fluted pilasters, and between them the wall (at Mantua with the
addition ofsmall niches) builds up a beautiful and rhythmic pattern 'based
25
on a simple alternation'.^^ Where does this predilection for a church con-
sisting ofa nave flanked only by chapels between the buttresses come from?
In a work dedicated to Giovanni Tristano, Father Pirri comments on that
arcliitect's liking for this plan, and ascribes it to the influence of Serlio.
Emile Male thinks that Cardinal Farnese had insisted upon Vignola using
this form and had himself been influenced by the church of Santa Maria
Montserrat in Romea church built by the Catalans on the model of the
cathedral at Albi. Pierre Moisy maintains that the Gesu is not, strictly
speaking, a church of one nave; the aisles are there, he says, though by
being as it were pinched in at various points they have become a series of
side chapels between the buttresses. One may disagree about this, but
Moisy is perfectly right when he observes that it is unnecessary to look for
Catalan influence. Vignola, even had he never seen Sant'Andrea at Mantua,
could find churches enough in Rome (San Marcello, Sant Agostino, or
San Luigi dei Francesi) that had already adopted the single nave with a
series ofside chapels between the buttresses.^^ It was an idea that was in the
air. More important was the victory of the Latin cross with its large tran-
septs (at the Gesu very wide ones) over the Greek cross, which had been
preferred during the Renaissance. The choice ofthe Latin cross emphasized
the importance ofthe altar, was admirably suited for processions and was a
revival of the traditional Christian form that had been current in the
Middle Ages. This explains in part why it was adopted by the Counter-
Reformation and why, at the beginning ofthe seventeenth century, Paul V
decided to lengthen the nave of St Peter's by the addition of two bays.
But the adoption of the plan of a Latin cross did not necessarily mean a
nave and no aisles. The desire to complete a church as quickly as possible
played a part in the choice of that plan. The building of the Gesu clearly
shows two apparently contradictory desires: to bmld rapidly a fme sump-
tuously decorated church, and not to spend much money. Yet by 1 5 84 the
problem had been solved and on 15th August Pope Gregory XIII paid a
visit to the church and expressed his admiration ofit. On 26th September
it was consecrated by Cardinal Santa Severina.
It is true that the decoration ofthe cupola had to wait till the following
century and it was not until then that the chapels in the transept were
completed by the frescoes ofBaciccio in the chapel of St Ignatius [III] and
the superb altar, which was the work of Padre Pozzo
[144].
Thus an essential part ofthe decoration, which is what mostly impresses
(or displeases) the present-day visitor and is the most Baroque feature of
the church, is much later than the building itself But we must remember
that the construction combined tradition with novelty, and managed to
adapt the technique ofthe Renaissance both to the new ideals ofthe Coun-
ter-Reformation and to the practical needs of the Society ofJesus.
For some time it was in the balance whether this fine church would
serve as a model for chapels built for the Society and thus exercise an
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
26 influence on the whole reHgious architecture of the time.^* Certainly the
Society itself made no definite decision about any style best suited to its
churches. It is worth bearing in mind that it remained silent. The new
order was not then interested in counteracting the achievements of the
Renaissance, or in reviving earher traditions. What recommendations it
made were severely practical: the buildings should be soundly constructed
and planned functionally. This advice was chiefly addressed to the colleges:
nothing had then been decided about churches.
Since 1565 it had been understood that Rectors (i.e. the administrators
appointed to run the colleges by the Vicar) were to be responsible for the
construction of buildings, though the plans were to be sent to Rome for
the Vicar's approval. In practice the plans were forwarded to Rome
through the intermediary of the Provincial. One cannot but wonder if,
after Vignola had provided the House in Rome with a church that became
renowned as one of the most beautiful in the city, the Vicar (or his
advisers) were not incHned to favour the Gesu as a model and impose the
plan on all new Jesuit churches. To put it another way, any building
undertaken before the Gesu had been built was expected primarily to pro-
vide the best conditions possible for carrying out the Society's missionary
work, and if it fulfilled its function there was no feeling that one style was
better than another. But if the modo nostra, the modo proprio, ofthe Society
had found its most perfect expression in a church that was not only func-
tional but was also praised as a great work of art, would it not be wise to
recommend, or even order the Society to copy it in the new buildings?
This appeared to be so logical and self-evident that before 1580 Vicar-
General Mercurian sent ofl^ to the Spanish provinces (and probably other
provinces as well) a certain number of sample plans. The Provincials then
had only to choose which one suited them best. Should they think that
some details ought to be modified they had to explain their reasons to the
General who remained the final judge, and might or might not give his
permission; but even this attempt to introduce uniformity left open a
certain choice ofplans.
Recent research into various archives has discovered the plans which
were, in theory, probably favoured by Rome. The Gesu still maintains its
influence, especially in the plan of a nave flanked by side chapels, which
was retained and became the most pronounced characteristic of the modo
nostro. But the history ofJesuit bmlding, which has been known in detail
for some years now, shows that this attempt at imperiaHsm by Vicar-
General Mercurian had httle success. Throughout the seventeenth and also
the eighteenth centuries the plans submitted from the provinces for the
Vicar's approval are proofthat they stiU held the initiativeor rather their
architects did, whether Jesuit or laymanand we find the Society putting
up churches in most varied styles, sometimes strictly traditional, some-
times daring and imaginative. But they were never able to escape from
the strict control, that often became petty and extraordinarily detailed,
exercised by the authorities in Rome. The Vicars again and again showed 27
their displeasure when their recommendations were not followed and did
not hesitate to blame severely those responsible.
There is no doubt that sometimes the Gesu was quite dehberately copied.
One example is the church built for the order in Paris in Richeheu's time,
St Paul and St Louis. Certainly the nave here was designed by a Jesuit
architect, Brother Martellangelo,^^ yet in other of his works this gifted
man draws his inspiration from models far removed from the Gesu, and
the pretty church of Saintc-Marie-des-Monts that he built is regular and
classical. On one occasion we know that a plan, very similar to the Gesu,
was submitted by a province and, for purely opportunist reasons, turned
down by the Vicar. To understand the variety ofJesuit churchesand it
is stupid to talk ofa 'Jesuit style'one must get away from the conception
of the Jesuits being an imperious, inhuman (an exaggeration of the well-
known phrsise perinde ac cadaver) and impersonal order. We should consider
more reaHstically the conditions under wliich they had to fulfil their
mission.
In the instructions sent out by Mercurian,^^ one comes across this urgent
injunction
'when there is a reason for and possibility of building, the

Father Provincial will point out why it is necessary and if it is possible to
achieve it without running into debt'. Without running into debtand
that was in instructions sent to the rich Spanish provinces! When one
turns to France, Germany or Bohemia, the beginnings ofthis order, which
later became so powerful, are found to be very modest. What they under-
took had to show an immediate return. Had they to bmld a church, then
local materials must be used and local workmen employed who were
probably already set in their ways. There was no question of re-training
them. A practical Provincial and his architect had to take this into consider-
ation. The plans put forward had to be ones that artisans could easily carry
out. They had also to become adepts at fitting them into the land which
the Jesuits had either bought or been given. Sometimes the site was
spacious, sometimes cramped; or perhaps it was already over-built, so that
the expenses of expropriation had to be taken into account in costing the
bmlding. The overriding necessity was to finish the church as quickly as
possible, whether it was for one of the Jesuit houses or for one of their
colleges. Then finally, as the building of the Gesu had shown, it was
necessary to humour the patron. The opinions of the faithful had to be
taken into consideration, whether it was in a town or in a country district
that the new church was to be bmlt.
The international character of the Society has been much exaggerated
and the fact overlooked that each country was responsible for recruitment
in its provinces. Afterjoining the Society the Fathers gave up neither their
nationaHty nor their particular conception of what was beautiful. The
Jesuit churches in Flanders faithfully retained Flemish characteristics. In
France, the architects ofthe SocietyTunnel, MarteUangelo, Mangrain
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR

28 showed very distinct and diverse talents: they are all recognizable as men
of their period and of a particular country. They were influenced by so
many considerations, that any attempts by Rome to impose uniformity
would have been put off, and probably frustrated. Even the heads of the
Order scarcely entertained such an ambition. The Vicars, no less than their
technical and artistic advisers and their auditors, were far too clever not to
recognize that their ends would most easily be achieved by manoeuvring
with the utmost flexibihty.
The central authority never gave up its right ofcontrol, and one caimot
say that henceforward building was left to the fancy or ingenuity of the
Provincials. But equally it no longer tried to impose abstract and rigid
rules on people who were inevitably the best judges of local needs and
local conditions.
It is clear that to speak of a 'Jesuit style' is not historically justifiable:
indeed it is often completely contrary to the facts. If many of the Jesuit
churches do have characteristics in common, it is due to the period duriug
which they were built. The Society achieved an eminent place in world
history, but this lasted for a comparatively short period, from about the
middle of the sixteenth to the middle of the eighteenth centuryhardly
more than two hundred years. At the beginning of this epoch the rules of
architecture were based on the antique and interpreted by Renaissance
masters whether Alberti or Vignola; then Roman Baroque, with its free
interpretation, its heavy ornamentation, and experiments in new ostenta-
tious effects gained a widespread influence.
The Society was influenced by the tendencies of the age, turning them,
if possible, to its advantage but also willing to adapt itself to the contem-
porary scene. It is only to be expected that it made use of many models
rather than conformed to one uniform style. Its members had to become
great builders of necessity, but as they became successful the Jesuits were
also inspired by a sense of their own glory, and they extended their
churches throughout Europe and Latin America, one of their favourite
mission fields. They helped to diffuse certain forms of art and taste, but
they were far from creating them. If one compares the Gesu with, for ex-
ample, the Jesuit churches in France, it is clear that there was a conflict of
Classicism and Baroque; the Jesuits had neither instigated it nor were con-
cerned to resolve it.^'
Wars ravaged Italy and an onslaught ofbarbarians suddenly burst over
the most civihzed country in the world. The Eternal City was sacked, and
the rehgious anxieties which had for so long a time worried the Christian
world were suddenly brought to a head by Luther's revolt.
The intellectual pleasure which had found such serene expression in the
untroubled, harmonious masterpieces of the Renaissance, was followed by
a time of sorrow and agony that could only find expression in sombre or
tortured forms. Yet the Renaissance had been so profoundly humane that
even when it was most assured it had shown that it could comprehend
sorrow and agony as well as happiness and certainty. Men had no need to 29
turn away from the Renaissance when called on to face new conditions of
life. The ideals and the lessons which it had taught in so many varied fields
still retained their efficacy.
Even the Council of Trent derived more from the Renaissance than is
commonly admitted. Its theologians had too much in common with the
humanists to declare that man was fallen without a chance ofredemption,
or was deprived of individual responsibility in seeking his salvation. In
admitting that even elegances that were not strictly Christian might con-
tribute towards tliis, they still allowed a place for hterature and the arts in
the spiritual outlook and Hfe of the faithful, provided of course, that
nothing should run contrary to the doctrine of the church. Occasionally
there was a brutal reaction against the more pagan and sensual aspects of
the Renaissance. But it is no less true that when a new style reanimated
both social and artistic life, it was one which was as much a child of the
Renaissance as of the Council ofTrent.
CHAPTER II
^Bâ T^riumphans
1600a year ofjubilee, and ofcomparative peace on the continentsaw
a great crowd ofpilgrims flock to Rome. Under the pontificate ofClement
VIII (i 592-1605) the Papacy could see how great the successes were that
it had won in less than forty years. Even if Lepanto, which must forever
be celebrated as a great victory, had not caused the collapse ofIslam, even
though the wars between Cross and Crescent still raged on Hungarian soil
at the very gates of the Empire, at least the threat of an invasion by the
infidels had been averted. Since Lepanto the Holy See could turn its
attention to the conversion ofLutheran and Calvinistic Germany, and did
so in a singularly reahstic manner. It still, thanks to the loyalty ofthe princes,
maintained a foothold in Bavaria and in Styria. But the task it faced
was immense. The rulers might be of great help, but they were none the
less fickle and often weak human beings, and the Papacy was careful in
its dealings with them to take up no position that might mortgage the
future or hmit its freedom to manoeuvre.
The King of Spain was a devout Cathohc, but the Spanish rule over one
part of Italy raised serious difficulties since it made many of the Itahan
clergy more dependent on Madrid than on Rome. The alliance between
the Pope and the King ofSpain was opportune, but it could not be allowed
to become a principle. For the Pope, it was a very lucky chance that
another great Catholic power, France, acted as a counterweight to Spain;
the main preoccupation ofthe Popes was to prevent war between the two.
The conflict was avoided for no less than thirty-five years, and when it
then broke out the Popes tried, though in vain, to restore peace as soon as
possible. They reahzed that if the war were prolonged the balance of
power must be upset, and whoever was victorious would inevitably be
tempted to impose his wiU upon Europe and make the Pope httle more
than his private chaplain.
But in 1600 such things lay hidden in the future. On the contrary, it was
reckoned at the time that one ofthe most startling successes the Church had
achieved was the conversion ofHenri de Navarre. In private hfe he might
be a lecher, and also, when he thought about things, a sceptic as well, but
the zeal with which he assumed the title of 'Most Christian' was as satis-
factory as his marriage in the same year to Maria de Medici (an Itahan
ROMA TRIUMPHANS
princess and niece of the Grand Duke of Tuscany), and the protection 31
which he offered, in spite ofsome popular outcry, to the Jesuits in France.
It may seem paradoxical but it is true that, although the Edict of Nantes
had but two years earher estabhshed Protestantism in France, Henri IV
inspired more confidence in the Vatican than the Emperor Rudolph, who
had been brought up in Spain.
From other quarters too the news had been encouraging. Four years
earher Clement VIII had scored another victory. In Poland the Cathohc
and the Orthodox churches had been united by the Concordat of Brcst-
Litovsk. Though the Poles preserved their own rites, their hturgy, and
more especially the Calixtine communion (which was ofsuch importance
that it was continually said to be the stumbling-block where the reconciha-
tion ofGermany was concerned), the Orthodox Poles had returned to the
bosom ofthe church. This was largely due to the Jesuits, and two ofthem
in particular: one an Itahan, Possevino, the other a Pole, Skarga, who was a
renowned patriot. Kiev became a centre ofthe Cathohc Reformation, and
theology was taught there again; tracts and catechisms were printed, and
Kiev also exercised considerable influence in Russia. Possevino had nego-
tiated with Ivan the Terrible personally, and no one could be sure whether
Russia itself would not return to Rome. It seemed no mere chimera. The
difficulties would be formidable, but perhaps the future might be won by
sheer audacity. One must bear all these facts in mind to appreciate properly
the atmosphere in Rome at the beginning of the seventeenth century.
There was a fuUy justified feehng of almost triumphant success in the air,
and this was to play a considerable part in reshaping both social and
artistic hfe during the following years.
That the Counter-Reformation reacted against the sensuosity and pagan-
ism of the Renaissance is undeniable, and to that we can partly trace the
austerity which we fmd in the artistic output immediately after the Council
ofTrent. But the taste for grandeur which had been a characteristic ofthe
Renaissance no less than of ancient Rome did not die out. It was soon to
receive a new lease ofhfe, in keeping with the triumphs of the Papacy.
At the end ofthe sixteenth century artistic hfe in Rome drew its inspira-
tion from two sources. This is apt to be overlooked if one only stresses the
austerity of the Counter-Reformation, or, on the other hand, the begin-
nings of the Baroque. Though it could not reconcile these extremes, per-
haps the most potent force in the evolution ofthese new artistic trends was
still a desire to adapt the old well-known rules to novel conditions, one of
which was, as we have seen at the Gesu, an imperious necessity for rapid
and functional building.
The pubhcations of Vignola, who died in
1573,
and the Four Books
of
Architecture by PaUadio which appeared in 1570 (ten years before his
death) made a lasting impression on builders. The craftsmen considered
themselves, at least technically, disciples of the Renaissance: the classical
orders, pilasters, triangular or segmental pediments all provided elements
D
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
3
2 which they could use. Most ofthem were not Roman by birth and it seems
they preferred to follow, perhaps from some reHgious feeling, the tradi-
tions ofFlorentine ecclesiastical architecture. The Latin cross or, under the
influence ofthe Gesu, the plan of a single nave and a facade of two super-
imposed orders were the two plans most frequently used in the Counter-
Reformation churches. They gave them simplicity and symmetry.
The severity which we fmd in Roman facades ofthe time should not be
looked on, however, as the only trend in the Counter-Reformation, for it
was at the same time that the chapels of Santa Maria Maggiore burst forth
in all their rich and sumptuous decoration, and the south facade of St John
Lateran was majestically designed in the Palladian manner by Domenico
Fontana
[12].
There was one artist who managed to weld these two ten-
dencies together into a new style. Carlo Maderna (i 556-1629) who,
vdthout a thought for theories, became one of the first Baroque architects
merely by trying to solve the practical problems with which he was faced.
He was a nephew ofFontana and had worked with him during the prolific
years of the pontificate of Sixtus V.
His fa9ade of Santa Susanna
(1603)
breaks entirely new ground, though
at first sight it might not appear to differ much from a facade by Giacomo
della Porta or by the elder Lunghi
[15].
But the traditional elements of
design are so arranged that the play of hght and shade gives such move-
ment and depth that what one would expect to be a static composition
comes to hfe. The six great Corinthian columns in the lower order, a
couple placed at each side of the entrance, and one at each end of the
fagade, give the whole facade a rhythmic movement. Two Corinthian
columns at the corners are slightly in recess of the great columns. In the
first storey the columns are surmounted by pilasters whose flat surfaces
contrast so well with the rich rotundity of the columns. The entablature
between the two storeys, the volutes with their graceful returns that em-
phasize the vertical hnes of the building, the great triangular, richly sculp-
tured pediment that crowns the whole is hghtened by a balustrade ofsuch
delicacy that it might be lace work, and the large niches which balance the
tall central window all combine to make one forget the bare surfaces ofthe
facade. The facade is so much more clearly articulated and vigorous than
any that had preceded it, that we may justly speak of an entirely new in-
terpretation of spatial values.
Columns henceforth were to play a more important role. One might
almost talk of them winning a victory over pilasters and founding a new
tradition. But this victory was certainly not absolute. Only a few paces
away from Santa Susamia, in the same stretch of street, we find the facade
of Santa Maria della Vittoria, which was built twenty-three years later,
and its sobriety appears archaic and twenty-three years out of date
[17].
But generally speaking Roman architects in future employed pillars as an
essential element in their buildings, even though sometimes they were so
disengaged they became almost an entity in themselves. These tall and
ROMA TRIUMPHANS
beautiful columns, catching the light, carving out shadows, have retained 3
3
their subUmity throughout the centuries. The pleasure we get from seeing
them now is as vivid as when they were first conceived and built.
Maderna thought of using them at Sant' Andrea dclla Vallc, but he was
never able to finish liis plan, and though he was very free in his interpreta-
tion of the design ofliis predecessor, Carlo Rainaldi, he remained faithful
to his spirit
[16].
The facade is one of the most lovely in Baroque Rome
and the columns not only give it rhythm but seem, even more than the
walls, to support the building. By the middle of the century one could see
them everywhere. In the church of SS. Vincenzo and Anastasio, built by
Lunghi the Younger in 1650, the dozen superimposed columns give an im-
pression of a mighty organ
[18].
The porch of Santa Maria in Via Lata by
Pietro da Cortona, on the Corso, has two columned galleries (1662) super-
imposed
[20].
Santa Maria in CampitelH, built by Rainaldi in 1665, owes its
joyful solemnity to superimposed columns, standing free and recessed,
which capture the light and give to the shadows between their alternate
rows a perpetually changing vivacity
[21].
But in designing these facades
of two orders, the principles which had been estabHshed at the beginning
of the Counter-Reformation were still observed: the second had to be
narrower and surmounted by a pediment. It seems, nevertheless, that some
audacious spirit has breathed on the various elements and released them
from the formula, so that they regain independence and individual Hfe.
Even if Father Orazio Grassi, designing the facade of the chapel of St Ig-
natius's College in 1650, gave it a pious and traditional flavour that recalls
Giacomo della Portaits vastness seems even increased by the use of
volutes^here too columns are used to add a sense ofmovement and lend a
contemporary air to its archaism
[22].
This is to run through more than half a century of architecture far too
quickly and so to stand on the threshold of the Baroque without having
considered the expansion of civihzation which is an essential factor of its
background, but it is necessary to show how the facade of Santa Susanna
incorporated many ofthe traditional aspects of the Counter-Reformation
and yet gave birth to a new tradition which was to form one aspect of
Baroque. Shortly after Santa Susanna had been completed, Maderna was
called on to undertake a very much greater work. In 1605 Cardinal
Borghese became Pope under the title ofPaul V. He belonged to a family
of dilettanti and patrons. His ambition was, above all, to complete St
Peter's. Whether because he thought that the plan of a Latin cross was
more appropriate for great ceremonies or because he wished the new
church to have the dimensions of the ancient basilica of Constantine (and
Michelangelo's plans had curtailed these to the west) he decided to
lengthen the nave and then build a facade
[23].
From the designs submitted to him, he chose that ofMaderna. The un-
dertaking was one which might be hazardous for any architect. The
church by Michelangelo was, one might say, already finished. Vignola and
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
34
then Giacomo della Porta had left their mark on it, one by the small
campaniles at the base ofthe dome, and the other by giving the cupola
[27]
a greater height and spring than Michelangelo himself had envisaged.
What had been achieved must remain and it was essential not to spoil the
effect. Yet if the church were to be extended westwards the dome would
inevitably be less easily seen. Michelangelo's dome would have been quite
ruined, and even Giacomo della Porta's was likely to lose at least some of
its effect, and have not the classicists told us that Madema's work is a
monstrosity, showing how the bad taste of the Baroque could wreck the
exquisite achievements of the Renaissance? Most people accept that un-
critically, but anyone who studies the origin and aim of Madema's work
finds that the truth is not so simple. Seen from the inside, the architect has
added the three bays of the nave almost imperceptibly to the Greek cross
by Michelangelo. It is as though the nave were but a narthex leading up
to the centre ofthe church, where the great pillars and the cupola continue
to dominate and give the bmlding its essential character.
The problems raised by Madema's facade are not so easily disposed of
[24].
Here one must take into account its functional purpose. The Renais-
sance Popes who had reconstructed St Peter's had chiefly thought ofbeauti-
fying the church erected over the tomb of the First of the Apostles. They
may, according to their temperaments and the ideas of their times, differ
sHghtly from one another, but their aim remained unaltered. Crowned by
the great dome ofMichelangelo and approached by the colonnaded porch,
here was a church ofpilgrimage, the most beautiful there was.
When Paul V became Pope things began to be looked at from a different
angle. St Peter's was becoming, in rivalry with St John
Lateran, the Cath-
edral of Rome and therefore of the whole Christian world^ and of the
Papacy. No doubt it still remained the incomparable sanctuary erected
over the grave of St Peter, but now, much more, it was where one could
see Peter himself in the person of his successor, and where one could pay
homage to the unbroken tradition of the Church. The Latin cross plan
enabled the Pope, after Apostohc Confession, to walk through the church
to the piazza and there, in the open air, to give his blessing to the multitude
urbi et orbi. It was a fme spectacle, worthy ofthe new prestige won by the
Papacy at the Council of Trent, and encouraged by the passion of the
Itahans for outdoor shows. After the success ofthe Jubilee Year of 1600, it
also underlined the triumphs and importance of the Papacy. To say that
no one knows what caprice led this pontifical Maecenas to erect the facade
of St Peter's is nonsense. It was the completion of the basiHca, and it also
provided a place from which the Pope might give his blessing to the
world. It is a building that exists in its own right.
Madema's work should be compared with the designs drawn up by the
Florentine, Ludovico CigoH, which consisted ofa colossal gallery flanking
a fine church facade of two orders
[25].
Cigoh sought a solution in com-
promise. Madema solved it by stressing its second function, and, by erect-
ROMA TRIUMPHANS
ing a place where Benediction could be given from St Peter's, had to
35
supply the basilica with a facade. At this point aestheticians may be ex-
pected to raise some subtle objections about Baroque pretending to be one
thing while it is something else. But might it not be, looked at historically,
rather simpler than that? Surely a building with columns of a gigantic
order in the centre and flanked by pilasters, is the proper frame for the
entrance to the basihca at ground level and above for the Benediction
Loggia
[24].
At the sides, large arches lead to die vestibule. It is a palace giving on to
the church as naturally as the windows give on to the nave. From the
great pontifical hall the Pope may, according to circumstances, give his
Benediction to the world from the loggia or, should he wish, use a window
opposite to bestow it only on the faithful gathered in prayer in the church.
Yet when he built this palace of a facade Maderna was evidently aware
of the effect it would have on the dome. Had a design like Cigoh's been
carried out, two storeys high, one would have seen even less ofit. Maderna
was content with a pediment which was not very different from the one
suggested by Michelangelo. The entablature commemorates Paul V in
majestic lettering and above, the balustrade is decorated with thirteen
gigantic statues of Christ and the apostles. Considered in relation to the
cathedral as a whole the strong horizontal hne makes the facade look too
long drawn out and too low. Maderna himself wished to alleviate this by
building two campaniles at the sides, but that project was only begun later
under Bernini, and was soon abandoned. His own work was fmished in a
few years, though he continued to hold the post ofsurveyor ofthe fabric.
The rapidity ofits completion resulted in the employment ofa great num-
ber ofartists and artisans: overseers, stucco workers, masons, marblers and
modellers. Amongst these there was a boy of fifteen who had run away
from his father, a Milanese architect. He came as a scalpellino, and was
called Francesco CasteUi. He was, hke Maderna, a native ofLugano and on
his mother's side related to him through a Borromini. That was the name
he now adopted and was to make famous.
Maderna, however, left much still to be done. Inside, the arches in the
aisles leading up to the massive pillars that support the dome looked by
contrast rather puny
[58],
and the very immensity ofthe basihca called for
some ornamentation, and also for something which would give it a unify-
ing characteristic; finally there was the problem of what to do with the
piazza. Like the Piazza San Marco in Venice it should be, as it were, a
vestibule to the cathedral and remain architecturally subordinate, though
possessing its own distinctive features
[26].
Whatever solution future architects might fmd, they would have to take
into account the work of Maderna which in itself evolved from Michel-
angelo's. It would have to be grandly majestic and astoundingnot from
any desire to astonish through its vulgar ostentation, but to arouse wonder-
ment in the pilgrim's breast and heighten his zeal. The triumphant and the
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
36
astonishing were henceforward to play a great part in the Baroque, though
they expressed only a part ofthe Baroque genius.
One cannot but wonder where the Popes got enough money to finance
such expensive plans. There were, ofcourse, all the gifts which poured in
from every CathoHc country but in reahty the fact was that the Popes had
formed the habit, since the beginning of the century, of signing bills
[monti] which were for the most part taken up by Italian bankers, mainly
those in Genoa. The interest due became a heavier and heavier burden on
the finances of the Papacy. Jean Delumeau has shown how, during the
second half of the sixteenth century, these funds were raised, and with
what disastrous results to the Romans themselves, who preferred to invest
in these monti and become rentiers rather than to encourage any com-
mercial or industrial venture. The laziness of a large proportion of the
populace, combined with a misdirected charity, led to a scandalous in-
crease of beggary, pauperism, and brigandism. The beauty of Baroque
Rome covered many a hideous reahty. But the constant building at least
assured that at least one industry prospered and, if one examines the signa-
ture of various bills issued by the Papacy, it is evident that at least some
ecclesiastics and laymen had vast capital resources. These came from terri-
torial holdings, and once more we see how profit from the land and the
work of the peasantry was the basis of the whole structure of this wealth.
There was another feature of rehgious bmlding which was much fav-
oured by the architects ofthe seventeenth century, and that was the cupola.
The tradition was classical in origin and had been handed down by the
Florentine school. Correggio had added to its glory by his painting ofone
that seemed to open up new and celestial vistas
[7
& I]. But the form ofthe
cupola alone had a universal and rehgious symbohsm.^ It represented the
celestial sphere and also the universe. So perfect geometrically is its form
that it might evoke the infinite or the idea of God Himself. It is placed on
a drum, shallow or high, which hfts it away from the main mass of the
building, and it is crowned with a lantern which seems to echo both the
drum and the cupola itself, on a minute scale. Roman Baroque adopted it,
and its example was followed by other European countries. At Sant'
Andrea deUa Valle, Maderna bmlt the highest cupola after St Peter's; at
Santa Maria Maggiore, Fontana crowned the Cappella Sistina, which had
been erected by Sixtus V, with a cupola, and this was echoed when Ponzio
and Cigoh built the Cappella Borghese for Paul V. San Carlo ai Catinari,
dedicated to St Carlo Borromeo, has one, and so have Santa Maria dei
Monti and, in the Forum, SS Luca e Martina
[19].
Domes were still to be
built by Bernini, Borromini and Rainaldi so that, as the century ran its
course, there was no quarter of Rome without its cupola. They give such
a distinctive look to the city that if one sees a domed church elsewhere one
is inevitably reminded of Rome
[28].
The cupola also accustomed the eye to those curved hues for which the
Baroque architects were to show an almost extravagant fancy, and which
ROMA TRIUMPHANS
they used for the most charming inventions that brought down on their 37
heads bitter reproaches from the partisans of regularity of form.
Rome of the triumphant Jubilee Year of 1600 and of the works carried
out later under Paul V was not entirely a city taken up with religious
questions or the building of churches. The Maecenas touch wliich
characterized the Pope descended from uncle to nephew, and is found
again in the Farnese cardinals. The son of Alessandro Farnese, Ottavio,
was, when quite a young man, summoned from Parma to Rome to assume
the purple in 1591. He took up residence in the family palacethe soul
of a young prelate of the Counter-Reformation was by no means insen-
sible to the glories of this world. No sooner had he settled down than he
planned to decorate the camerini and the great gallery with frescoes depict-
ing the glorious achievements of the Farnese family
[31].
Ever since his youth he had been used to the rich luminosity of Cor-
reggio and the Venetian painters and had Httle taste for the rather dry
manner and lack of breadth in the Tuscan and Umbrian artists who were
then receiving all the commissions in Rome. He therefore called in three
artists who had won a great reputation in Bologna, where they had foun-
ded an academy. They were the three Carracci: two brothers, Annibale
and Agostino, and their cousin Ludovico. Annibale, their leader, was a
passionate admirer of Correggio and the Venetians, and through this trio
northern Italy scored a victory in Rome where, at this date, the greatest
artists were architects rather than painters. Cardinal Ottavio never carried
out his scheme of glorifying his dynasty. The ceilings of the Farnese were
instead painted by the Carracci with mythological scenes
[30].
It was no
great innovation, either in its inspiration or in its extraordinarily fine tech-
nique ofperfect design and rich luminosity. It is hnked up v^th the Renais-
sance of Raphael and GiuUo Romano.
But the Carracci brought their pupils, Guido Reni and Domenichino,
to work with them. Later on came Guercino, and Rome could hence-
forward boast of a team of great artists who soon received a variety of
commissions for the decoration of palaces or of churches. Of the former
the Aurora by Guido in the Palazzo RospigHosi is outstanding
[29],
and
the same theme painted by Guercino in the Villa Ludovisi became so
famous that the villa was renamed after it [II]. Both were triumphs of a
sophisticated academic art, and of great aristocratic grace.*
Church painting took on a different character, and was bound by the
principles laid down by the Council ofTrent. It was didactic and it celebra-
ted, not without eloquence, the sufferings of the martyrs and the glorious
rewards wliich they received in Heaven. In this spirit Guido painted his
great
Crucifixion
of
St Peter, Guercino his Apotheosis
of
St Jerome, and
Domenichino The Last Communion
of
St Jerome [33].^
They are beautiful
works which were exaggeratedly praised when they first appeared and
later fell into undeserved contempt.
These Bolognese painters possessed technique, facility and invention,
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
though they were doubtless rather conventional in their depiction of
pathos. There is no doubt that they were sensitive to the vast number of
artistic works to be seen in Rome and that these aroused their interest and
gave them pleasure, but in spite of that, these pupils of Carracci never es-
caped from the influence ofone geniusCaravaggiowho by his manner
and through various circumstances had become an enemy oftheir master.
Caravaggio was of low birth, violent and passionate, and in some res-
pects immature, but he had such rare power, that no one who painted at
that time could ignore the quahties of his masterpieces. He has been des-
cribed as one ofthose who could best evoke the conflict between Hght and
shade.'^ He was, however, unpopular in some circles because ofhis uncom-
promising naturahsm, and it is understandable that the paintings he did of
the Entombment, the Death
of
the Virgin
[34],
and episodes from the hfe of
St Matthew for the church of San Luigi dei Francesi
[35],
revolted by
their brutahty the refmed taste of the Roman aristocracy.
Others dishked seeing the Virgin or the saints depicted as common
people, although the reHgious paintings by Caravaggio might appeal to
others for these very quahties. In those faces lined by everyday cares and
harsh weather, the humble folk could recognize people who shared their
own fears and hopes. The very gestures used by the people were to be seen
in these pictures, for the painter drew direct from street Hfe and never
posed his models in a studio. The incomparable Madonna
of
Loretto,
painted at the time of the Jubilee of 1600 is (as Jean Delumeau has pointed
out in a moving commentary) also an historical document of first class
importance about the life of pilgrims.^ The two old men, kneeHng to the
Virgin and being received by her, radiate a pure and true faith and a feehng
of religious poetry
[36].
In dealing with the reHgious aspect of the Counter-Reformation one
must remember that it was the humble people who sustained it and clung
to it. One should not, as it is all too easy to do, think of it in terms of
Popes, cardinals or theologians. Nor when one considers reHgious works
of art should one forget the audience they were designed to appeal to: it
was vastly greater than the small circle of patrons.
Rome, at the beginning of the seventeenth century, became a city ofthe
arts and was to remain the centre of artistic Hfe for over a hundred years.
This was not a sudden happening, but a natural outcome of the move-
ment that had begun immediately after the Council of Trent. It was a
city with so rapidly increasing a population that, more than anywhere
else, questions of town planning or administration arose and had to be
solved: streets and squares had to be planned, drinking water brought in
and fountains built. But it was not a city Hke the cities of the Renaissance
had been, or Hke those ports that later on were to spring up on an Atlantic
seaboard or, stHl later, the industrial centres.
It was meant to be a spectacular citya rehgiously spectacular one
though by that we do not mean that it was a place only for prayers and
21
The facade of Santa Maria in Canipitelli, by Rainaldi, has a joyous quahtA'
despite its solemn magnificence
The vast facade of Sant Ignazio, by Grassi, is made even wider by its vokites
22
^
\
'
23 Michelangelo's plan for St Peter's provided for a centrally planned church with
the four equal arms of a Greek cross
24
25
In 1605 Madema extended the nave of St Peter's, forming the Benediction
Loggia and the facade of the basihca giving on to the Piazza
The Florentine Ludovico CigoH planned a gallery on a colossal scale, in the
centre of which would rise a beautiful church facade carried out in two orders;
but his was one of the rejected projects for St Peter's
"
-
,
^'l
-
^. >,.
26 A magnificent building, at once composite and harmonious, in which the
Baroque has carried to completion what the Renaissance had begun. St Peter's
in Rome is still the most impressive church iii modem Europe, as this general
view shows
27 The dome of St Peter's was designed by Michelangelo, but later adapted by
Delia Porta who gave it more height and spring
28
Domes rise from every part of Rome and are so characteristic of the city's sky-
Une that wherever else a traveller sees a domed church it reminds him of Rome
Aurora, Casino Rospighosi, by Guido Reni. 'The Sun's chariot rides on the
clouds, drawn by a quadriga, accompanied by a procession of the Hours and
preceded by Aurora, who is carrying flowers.' (A. Michel, Histoire de I'art,
29 Vol. VI,
p. 76)
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30 "The central composition ot the vault [ot the Palazzo Farnescj, the Triumph of
Bacchus and Ariadne, is crowded with figures and is as full as possible ofjoy and
richness.' (A. Michel, Histoire de Fart)
31
General view of the Gallery in the Palazzo Farnese, on the vaults of which
Carraci painted the themes of mythological poetry
ROMA TRIUMPHANS
edification. It did not have the aspect ofa place given over to penitence and
39
meditation: it was a triumphant city, whither people flocked from every
country to celebrate the victories which the Church had won over heresy
and paganism.^ Its magnificence not only tried to express the joyousness of
this victory but also to move the imaginations and hearts of the pilgrims
to contemplate a far greater magnificence: the glory ofparadise.
It was inspired by a different spirit from that of the Renaissance, and its
values no longer concerned man as he is in this world, but man as a spiritual
being fighting to attain eternal happiness. The whole feeling of the times
had changed: exuberance and a taste for the marvellous led artists to search
for new forms in which balance and poise were not, as they had been
during the Renaissance, of supreme importance.
Understandably enough new trends arose and became more and more
firmly estabhshed until we find them almost the embodiment of Roman
Baroque. Yet it is significant that this happened in Rome, which was not
only the great classical city but also a great Renaissance city. Even ifcertain
pagan aspects of the past were repudiated, it is impossible to beheve that
there was a renunciation ofthe whole Renaissance, and that its lessons were
forgotten. Its richness, for instance, was not condemned, but used to
glorify the Church. The style of its architects and painters was not de-
nounced and their achievements were still there for all to see, and re-
mained a source of inspiration.
The same appHed to classical Rome. The Romans in the seventeenth
century did not scorn the antique, they took it over. With a self-assurance
which may seem slightly shocking to our generation, steeped in archaeol-
ogy and apt to tliink that tinkering with antiquities is bordering on sacri-
lege, the Romans had no hesitation at all in moving columns or treating an
antique temple as though it were a stone quarry. If there were any con-
tempt it was only that offamiharity. The beauties ofthe pagan world were
only now being used to the greater glory of God.
Emile Male, in his preface to Eglises de Rome, has aptly recalled that
Bramante said, before drawing up his plans for St Peter's, that he was
going to put the dome of the Pantheon on the vaulting of Santa Sophia.
No less aptly he remarks that the Renaissance was antiquity enlarged by
Christianity. Also, when one recalls that Bernini boasted that his plan for
the oval chapel he wished to incorporate in the Louvre would rival the
Rotunda, one reahzes how strong his admiration for the antique had al-
ways remained.
To understand how Rome then became the artistic centre of the world,
these underlying factors should be borne in mind, for it was not just a city
where beautiful things were made nor one which suddenly needed to be
well planned and decorated. It was to be a reservoir ofbeauty from which
Christendom might draw inspiration, and most certainly it did not confine
itself to the exposition ofany one particular style or artistic school.
Its reputation became such that throughout Europe Rome was the only
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
40
place for artists to study. They did not go there either abjectly to model
their style on that of Madema or, later, on that of Bernini, or just to ad-
mire the works of Raphael or Michelangelo and copy the pictures of
Domenichino. It was to look, to study, and to discover their own indi-
viduaHty that artists flocked to Rome. Everyone passed through: Rubens,
Velasquez and Vouet. Poussin and Claude stayed there and both found
Rome more agreeable than any other city
proofenough that at this time

one might as easily be a classical as a Baroque artist in Rome. Indeed these
terms were not used by their contemporaries. There were two schools,
both were equally highly thought of, the antique and the modern. The
latter was a term that embraced many things from pure Renaissance to the
richly elaborate style that was succeeding it.
Even at the beginning of the century there had been signs that this
'modem art' was giving birth to an individual style which reflected con-
temporary Roman feeling and thought. Even then people in France could
describe some monument 'a la romaine, but no one guessed the latent
powers which were so soon to be manifested in the works of Bernini and
Borromini. It was of such originahty that a new name. Baroque, must be
appHed to it, and of such vigour that it spread not only throughout
Europe, but the world.
mB^'^^^^'^Ws^^^^^
CHAPTER III
Bernini and ôrromini
The names of Bernini and Borroniini evoke by themselves the whole of
High Baroque, and recall as well two of the greatest masters of European
art. They were at the same time akin and hostile, though they both worked
together at the one task of beautifying Catholic Rome. Nor can they be
understood apart from Rome or apart from the Papacy of the seventeenth
century. Both were Romans by adoption, for Bernini was by birth
Neapohtan, while Borromini came when quite a young man from the
north ofItaly. But it was the city of Rome that formed them. And Rome
had many lessons to teach themnot only those they learnt by working
in the studios or studying Roman craftsmanship. Every street of the city,
every church or palace, every masterpiece added to the lesson that could
only come from the Eternal City with its centuries ofhistory.
Both men were intimately at home in the Roman hfe of their day,
were imbued with the essence of ItaHan spiritual Hfe, were famihar with
the monastic and priestly Hfe, were at home at the Papal Court, and were
able, in this one city, to observe and savour a whole world. It was, too, the
most varied world of its age, where the most subtle and spiritual values
shone amidst the most sordid and mean reaHties. Here was a way of Hfe
that could not be paralleled in any society in Europe and these two artists of
superb sensibiHty and great intelligence were there to enjoy it. The patron-
age of the Popes, too, was on such a munificent scale that they could give
free rein to their genius. Their works were acclaimed as masterpieces
throughout the world.
Between 1623 and 1667 three PopesUrban VIII, who was Pontiff for
twenty years. Innocent X and Alexander VIIwere all at one in being
supremely conscious ofthe power ofthe Church ofthe Counter-Reforma-
tion. All ofthem were resolved, like their predecessors ofthe Renaissance,
to impress the world by the grandeur and beauty of the new buildings in
Rome. After their death the succession was more rapid and, instead of
there being three Popes elected in forty-four years, five were elected in the
last thirty-three years of the century. The longest Pontificate was that of
Innocent XI, who reigned for thirteen years. He was not only an austere
man, but he was thrifty as well. It was also at this time that the w^hole
atmosphere of Europe changed. Money became scarce and Rome found
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
42
its economic straits intensified by the quarrel that broke out between her
and France, by the Turkish menace, and by the revolution in England.
Bernini, who had led a Hfe so fiill of unhampered achievement, died in
1680, wliich was also a year fiill of worries for the Papacy. The era of its
great hopes and triumphs had coincided with the years of fulfilment of
these two very great artists, who both worked together in beautifying
Rome. But though they collaborated, they were essentially rivals. This was
not merely because one might supersede the other on certain individual
works or even because of the competition between them to secure com-
missionstheir rivalry arose from a profound difference in character.
Their careers also were very different. They were almost of the same age,
Bernini being bom at the end of 1598 and Borromini in September
1599.
The former, however, found his start in Rome fairly easy, for his father
Pietro Bernini had some fame as a sculptor and had been summoned to
Rome from Naples. He had first made his name there, although he was by
birth a Florentine.
Borromini, on the other hand, found httle help from his relative
Madema. In his youth he had worked as a stone-mason in Milan, but even
when he was thirty years old he was still only working as an assistant on
the sculptures in St Peter's.
Then, though both men had in common a remarkable fertility of in-
vention, there was a great difference of temperament. Bernini had not
only exuberant vitahty but a galaxy ofthe most diverse talents; a precocity
so great that it is extremely difficult to date his earher works with any
accuracy. And this creative vigour never faltered even in old age and,
indeed, remained completely undiminished until his death in 1680. He
always felt sure that his real genius lay in paintingand indeed the rapidity
with which he worked did seem more fitted to painting than to sculpture
or architecture.^ Unfortunately very few ofhis pictures have come down
to us. Those that have survived show great quahty; his caricatures also
show a remarkable insight into character, and his sketches are admirable
[93].
In spite of aU this, it is as a sculptor and as an architect that Bernini
shows his most profound genius.
Still, one should not lose sight ofthe homogeneity of an artist's creative
thought. One might say that Bernini sculpted and even built hke a painter.
There is hardly a bust or a sculptured group by him that does not give the
impression of restlessness, as though the artist had surprised his subjects in
movement and allowed the spectator to follow up the story in his imagina-
tion.^ Take for instance that youthful but already masterly work of his,
Daphne and Apollo. Hardly ever has the problem of movement been so
happily solved in sculpture. The metamorphosis ofthe nymph seems to be
taking place in front of our eyes, her hair and hands turn to leaves and her
legs change into bark, and yet there is nothing that seems either far-fetched
or ridiculous in the work.
At other times this painter's attitude may be seen in a building, where
BERNINI AND BORROMINI
Bernini seems to bear in mind the pleasures to be derived from a fine
43
approach, or the shifting view of vistas of the interior, as vividly as he
appreciates pure architectural form. Though it wôuld be most unjust to
think that Bernini was merely a decorator or a skilful master of illusion it
is right to appreciate that perhaps his greatest talent lay in bringing out the
picturesque. His art is more fluid than the classical, which tries to achieve
the calm ofpure balance.
Thanks to the patronage of Urban VIII, who put him in charge of the
fabric of St Peter's, Bernini very early on gained a world-wide reputation.
He received orders from foreign courts.^ Under his direction a whole
regiment of pupils and assistants was recruited to do the more technical
work and carry out his designs.^ When he was engaged upon a compH-
cated group of sculpture they were sometimes entrusted with the execu-
tion ofindividual figures, while he himself made up the final composition
as he had planned. His life became one incredible round of activity; he
might have been Hving in a bee-hive. This suited his temperament; the
activity never overwhelmed him, but seemed to inspire him with new
ideas and to make him work ever harder and faster. It is quite clear that
this playing of a great role in the pubhc eye pleased him. The visit of the
Pope to his studio was so dramatic that it might have been a scene revived
from the Renaissance, when JuHus II visited Michelangelo. In fact, it did
not take him very long to achieve the reputation ofbeing the one and only
successor to Michelangelo, or even of being a second Michelangelo. He
beheved this in all simphcity and with no hint of self-deception.
His exuberance and vitaHty were so intense that we are not surprised to
learn of his constant admiration for women nor to see that his nudes are
what one can only describe as voluptuous. To take one example, the por-
trait-bust ofHs mistress Constanza BuonareUi is, quite apart from being a
masterpiece, dripping in sensuaHty. This does not mean that at the same
time, he could not be profoundly reHgious and sometimes even pious. He
seemed to be able to interpret the most ethereal and spiritual emotions and
often appears to be completely at home in expressing them.
Success seemed to be his natural environment and the very air he
breathed. Even though he went through the bitter experience of reverse
and disgrace, it lasted for quite a short time.
Ifyou look at his day-to-day hfe you can, it is true, find moments when
he appeared to find it unbearable, and became irritable, flying into a tem-
per and wounding even his closest friends. Yet it was characteristic of the
man that this never seemed to be held against him for long. He did not
have to do anything to excuse himself. No amends were made, but every-
thing was forgiven him because ofhis innate charm.
When we come to look at the hfe of Borromini it seems to be almost
the exact opposite, except perhaps for the period when he enjoyed the
favour of Innocent X and was working at St John Lateran. One always
gets the impression, as far as the European scene is concerned, that Bernini
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
44
was edging him out of the hmeUght, so much so that, in his own day,
he was scarcely heard of outside Rome. He had neither the showmanship
of Bernini nor his exuberance. Though it seems that he was the more
subtle genius ofthe two, no one can deny that he was both melancholy and
restless. It is perhaps characteristic that he committed suicide in 1667,^
while his great rival went on to enjoy thirteen more years full ofhonours,
wealth and fame.
When one comes to judge him there is also much less of his work left
than ofBernini's. The churches which he did buildeven Sant' Agnese in
the Piazza Navonawere never on a large scale and some ofthem are very
small indeed. His patrons were often the monasteries. One might almost
say that an atmosphere of intimacy and introspection characterized his
work. It was an entirely different world from that in which Bernini hved
^very different indeed, though no one would say that he possessed less
genius.
Someone has quite justly remarked that Borromini had an affmity with
the Gothic. He showed an inventiveness that disregards rules, logic, or
even commonsense in his search to discover new forms. The results did
manage to give 'a local habitation and a name' to the most intangible and
daring flights ofthe imagination.
He was often reproached by Bernini for ignoring the rules. Blondel
also, in his lectures on architecture, accused him of dehberately choosing
the opposite of anything that appeared to be rational. It is interesting to
quote the very subtle way in which he makes this accusation. 'I would
not,' he said, 'like Borromini in Rome, wish to turn bases upside down or
volutes inside out nor introduce the thousand other bizarre tricks which
spoil the beauty of his buildings. But in spite of aU that, those he erected
show, for the most part, admirable ingenuity and planning.' The Gothic
architects, in their day, wished to give height to their buildings and to
flood their churches with hght from their great stained glass windows. It
needed a very great audacity on their part to decidejust how to hollow out
the walls. But their knowledge of all the thrusts involved and their skill in
introducing buttresses enabled them to create a new architecture which
gave aU the impression of hghtness which they were seeking and at the
same time to build as soHdly as any of their predecessors.
It was almost in that same spirit that Borromini, who was always more
ofa technician than a theoristone might almost call him a law unto him-
selfwent on seeking until he found those answers which appear to be so
novel and daring. He refused to reHeve the flat surface of walls by super-
imposing decoration. He relieved it by altering the very structure of the
wall itself, and this may be regarded as the most original ofhis innovations.
To do it, one ground plan was superimposed on another, angles and pro-
jections were gradually ehminated, and the plan which eventually emerged
possessed a sinuous quahty which had never been seen before. First there
is a length ofwall that is concave, then comes one that is convex, and the
effect is both charming and profoundly decorative. Yet the result, like the
45
solution achieved by the Gothic architects, is stable and sohd. This use of
curved line and undulating movement demonstrated new possibiHties in
architecture that had never even been suspected before.^ Added to all this,
the play of light between the curves of the walls and the columns gives an
ever changing freshness and a surprisingly complex effect to his buildings.
Never for a moment do you feel that the decoration would gain from any
use of gilt, stucco, or coloured marble. One might say that he was a
superb sculptor using architecture as his medium and that he had no need
to borrow anything to adorn it.
This same spirit ofdaring innovation is shownjust as much in the cupo-
las and lanterns which he designed. His ingenuity was such that he even
achieved one effect which made a cupola, when seen from outside, appear
concave instead of convex. Then he designed a lantern which hardly
seems to crown the cupola but rather aspires heavenwards like the most
soaring of steepleswhich he achieved in the spiral which surmounts La
Sapienza
[47].
His audacity was much greater than Bernini's. A pure eUipse
or oval is not enough for him. The interplay of line seems to dissolve the
spaces and lend an extraordinary value to every single detail involved,
though he always kept them subordinate to the main plan.
This novel freedom ofexpression which he achieved and the ingenuities
ofwhich he was a past master might well have led to mere extravaganzas.
This was indeed what the classicists and doctrinaires called them. But his
achievement was to create buildings imbued with an astonishing and grace-
ful charm, dehcate yet full of profound feeling. Without doubt it is a
sophisticated artan aristocratic art, ifyou willsince he seemed resolved
never to follow the beaten track. Yet nobody could deny that it was
sincere, and the fantastic elements of it had a quahty so magical that they
ended by enchanting not only the Roman cognoscenti but even the simple-
minded visitor from abroad. Borromini, who was so often misunderstood
and the storm centre of criticism during his hfetime, has more than
triumphed since his death.
There were historical reasons why tliis fame should come so belatedly,
but there were also other causes which were purely aesthetic and reHgious.
Entering a building by Borromini is like travelling to an entirely new and
strange land. They might almost, because of their dream-like quahty, be
called paradisiacal. It might possibly be said they lack those supreme quah-
ties which are said to make a masterpiece universally vahd, irrespective of
time or circumstance. But is not this very universahty perhaps a fantasy of
theorists? It certainly cannot stop us recognizing the unique poetry which
Borromini has managed to capture.
At the beginning oftheir careers both men worked together on the build-
ing of St Peter's under Maderna, who died in 1629. Borromini was wôrk-
ing on the sculptures, but Bernini had already won a reputation as archi-
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
46
tect, sculptor and painter, and had during the short pontificate ofGregory
XV (1621-23) been granted the title of 'il Cavahere'. It was on him that
the mantle of Maderna descended.
Roman art at that time seemed halfinclined to look back to the classical.
With Bernini there was a curious ambivalence in his work, that enabled
him to swing from the pagan and Florentine sensuahty ofhis mythological
groups [Daphne and Apollo, The Rape
of
Proserpine) to the classic grace of
his statue ofMatilda ofTuscany; or from the reahsm ofhis busts (Cardinal
Scipio Borghese
[37],
Pope Gregory XV and Urban VIII
[59])
to the
sinuous and ingenious designs of his fountains (e.g. The Triton
[38]).
To
succeed in such differing fields is without doubt the sign of great talent,
but was it not perhaps the exhibition ofa virtuoso capable ofplaying many
instruments, rather than the hallmark of a genius?
At last St Peter's offered him the chance ofshowing that he could create
a masterpiece. This was the baldacchino, begun in 1625 and finished in
163
3
[39].
In the centre of the cathedral beneath the cupola there was a huge
empty spacea yawning gap. The great dimensions of St Peter's made the
furnishings an architectural undertaking rather than works ofsimple decor-
ation. Anyone who had the temerity to construct anything there must also
be aware, as Maderna had learnt when he built the nave and the facade,
that they were entering into competition with Bramante and Michel-
angelothose two great predecessors who had conceived the cathedral.
Bernini at that time was not yet thirty years old, yet his solution of the
problem was that ofa mature genius.
Antonio Munoz has pointed out that this lay in discarding any idea of
continuing the traditional use of a ciborium. Instead, something com-
pletely novel must take its place. Bernini chose a baldacchino, that httle
canopy offhmsy stuffs which was used to shelter the Holy Sacrament when
it was carried in procession. This he enlarged to the size of a colossal
monument. It had until then been an affair of wood and tapestry or silk,
but he rendered it in bronze, so that he turned something provisory and
mobile into something stable, strong and gigantic, and finaUy united two
quahties which might seem irreconcilablehghtness and hugenesswith-
out impairing either. It had to be huge, because it must fill the transept
crossing, and light because it must not obscure the apse nor break any
vista. Bernini's solution is daringly modem, and as functional as it is
decorative.
The baldacchino rests on four great marble blocks on which the bees of
the Barberini coat of arms are carved in rehef.^ From these rise four
twisted bronze columns crowned with Corinthian capitals, which in turn
support a hght frame enriched by a large tasseUed curtain, and thence
springs the final motif of reversed volutes soaring toward the dome and
surmounted by a cross. Between these graceful lines, which seem to cap-
ture the air and Hght, one can see the great curve ofthe dome. Then, at the
four comers ofthe entablature stand statues ofangels, their wings and their
draperies ruffled by the wind. They strike a more solemn note or, rather,
47
estabhsh the equiUbrium of the whole. The baldacchino was at once ac-
knowledged as an essential part of the basilica as surely as though it had
been part of the original design.
It harmonizes with the dome and the general ensemble, yet it exists in
its own right. It is one of the most feHcitous expressions of contemporary
reUgious ideas, combining the glorification of the Holy Sacrament with
the liturgical pomp of processions.
In order to fmd enough bronze for the baldacchino, there was no hesita-
tion in stripping the roof of the Pantheon. 'Quod non fecerunt Barhari,
fecerunt Barherini was a quip wliich, with its cruel pun upon Pope Urban
Vm's family name, became immediately popular. But this sudden and
startling transmutation of antique bronze certainly robbed Rome of no
masterpiece. The design of the twisted columns of the baldacchino at St
Peter's was to be copied in so very many other works that they might
appear to be an original and distinctive element of the Baroque style. In
fact, they were copied from the antique, and both the Middle Ages and the
Renaissance had made use ofthem. Yet in this case, their use had the great
advantage over straight columns that they introduced a sense of move-
ment and avoided the gross effect of sheer mass which rigid lines might
have given. This new monument was insinuated into the basihca, not
brutally imposed, and it was the fame ofthe baldacchino that explains the
popularity of twisted pillars in the following years. It is impossible to fmd
out the part which Borromini played, either as executant or as Bernini's
assistant, in the construction of tliis monument. With the baldacchino
Bernini brought, as it were, an offering from the new generation to the
great basihca that had been in process of construction for a century and a
half, and showed that he could enter into the spirit of the church, and the
ideas of Michelangelo.
Urban VIII asked him to continue his work there. This time it was to
decorate the great pillars which support the dome. Leaving them bare
amidst the fluted pilasters would not in any way have detracted from their
majestic power, but contemporary taste was not satisfied with this. Those
plain, unadorned surfaces, wliich in Florentine art might possess a discreet
charm (though possibly an astringent one) were here considered by their
vast dimensions to give an impression offrigidity and doumess and it was
further argued that Michelangelo himself had enHvened the walls of the
New Sacristy of San Lorenzo with niches.
Bernini transformed these pillars into shrines: below, a vast niche in
which one could place a statue no less than five metres high, and above, a
ceremonial balcony decorated with twisted columns and a concave pedi-
ment. Here images or rehcs of the saints could be shown to the populace
on appropriate feast days. Bernini was trying not only to Ughten the great
blocks of the pillars, but also to bring tiiem, by means of these balconies
from which the rehcs were shown, into close harmony with the pulpit
E
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
48
from which the Holy Father gave his blessing. In both cases he was success-
ful. He used the pillars which surrounded the baldachino and the High
Altar over the Tomb of St Peter, to sing, as it were, a hymn ofthe Passion,
by recalling its sacred reHcs.
The statues chosen for the niches, as well as the rehefs which adorned
the loggias, recalled the history of the Church. On the pillars to the east
are two statues of women. The first is of St Veronica, who wiped the
sweat, blood, and spittle from Christ's face on his way to Calvary, where-
upon her handkercliief miraculously showed His adored features
[41].
Mocchi has represented her as running towards Christ under the Cross and
unfolding her napkin in a gesture of mercy.^ The other is of the Empress
Helena (the statue is by Bolgi) who sought for and found the Cross upon
which Our Saviour died
[43].
Since then innumerable fragments have
been distributed throughout the world as rehcs of the True Cross.
On the pillars opposite there is a statue of St Longinus
[40]
which was
carved by Bernini himself. It depicts the Roman soldier who pierced the
side of the dead Christ and drew forth blood from that divine heart, and
also some drops of water that seemed like tears.^^ In a wonderful gesture,
St Longinus holds out his arms, and in his left hand is the lance, yet that
instrument of the last outrage against Our Lord seems to have become a
symbol ofpity and love. The fourth pillar is dedicated to St Andrew, who
like Christ and St Peter, died on a cross (the statue is by Duquesnoy)
[42].
Though the head of St Andrew is, like the napkin of St Veronica, the
lance of St Longinus and the True Cross, preserved in St Peter's and thus
mayjustify the homage given to this apostle, it cannot be denied that one
other reHc of the Passion should have been recalled, but the crown of
thorns is not among the treasures of Rome. Saint Louis recovered it and
deposited it in Paris, where La Sainte Chapellethat reUquary of stone
was enlarged to receive it. Nevertheless, had it been possible to place a

statue of St Louis there, a King of France facing the Empress Helena, the
impression would have been greater, for both the elation of medieval
behef and the splendour of the Cathohc nations which vied with the
ancient Roman Empire would have thereby been enhanced, and the cycle
of reHcs have been more admirably rounded off.
By designing the baldaccliino, and by his decoration of the pillars,
Bernini gave expression to the Cathohc behef of his time no less surely
than the builders ofthe medieval cathedrals had done before him. Nothing
can be more disconcerting than the stupidity of critics or the negative
reactions of foreign Catholics (especially the French) when faced with
this great conception so imbued with profound religious thought and
feeling. If living Christianity must in every era be aware of the con-
temporary scene, the inspiration of Bernini cannot be considered ir-
rehgious, since religion then was palpable and not averse to display. He
was a true interpreter of a faith that had reaffirmed its doctrinal authority
and was sure both of its power and abihty to spread its message. His art.
heir to the Renaissance, expressed this new assurance most nobly in the 49
very heart of Christendom, and even in the basihca designed by Michel-
angelo himself, Bernini's Baroque works left the indehble imprint of the
seventeenth century.
Another of Bernini's undertakings had a less happy outcome. Maderna
had envisaged two campaniles above the vestibules ofhis facade, partly to
counteract its emphatic horizontal line, and he had left plans for them.
But, when the Pope suggested they should be erected, Bernini submitted
other designs, which were duly approved. For reasons of economy, only
one campanile was built. Though considered in itself it was graceful
enough, with its two storeys ofcolumns, it introduced a disturbing clement
and spoilt both the effect of the facade and of the dome. On Urban VIII's
death, the defects ofthe campanile itselfand also the muddle in the expense
accounts comiected with it were used as excuses to demolish it.^^ It had
added nothing to Bernini's fame; indeed it caused his fall from favour.
As always, a new Pope meant a new distribution of offices and of fav-
ours. The patronage which the new Pope, Innocent X, withdrew from
Bernini was, for a short while, given to Borromini.
But now one must turn back to the time when the two rivals were both
at work on the same secular building and study some of the individual
achievements ofBorromini.
Before he became Pope Urban VIII, Cardinal Barberini had asked
Maderna to build him a palace in Rome. The work was far advanced
by the time of Madema's death. Then Bernini and Borromini received
orders to complete it and permission to alter the original plan as they
thought fit. It is difficult to determine exactly what each architect contri-
buted to the new building. At any rate, the main block and the facade
which faces the city are attributed to Bernini. Three orders of loggias
superimposed, each including seven arcades, make a harmonious composi-
tion in the Palladian style for the front of the court of honour, which is
contained by wings at right angles. This elegant classicism is, however,
nothing but decoration which has httle correspondence with the interior
plan of the palace, though it disguises it very cleverly. Let us remember
that during these years Bernini was much engaged in mounting theatrical
shows or fetes; he was a master of surprise effects and ingenious con-
traptions, and perhaps it was his facility of invention that led him,
in the Barberini palace, to adopt a plan that was more ingenious than
rational.
The main front block consists only ofgalleries. On the ground level the
seven archways open into a courtyard that looks triangular. It is traversed
by two screens, the first consisting of five, the second of three arches, and
leads up to the great oval haU designed for receptions and fetes. Rooms
are grouped at the sides of the courtyard with httle care for symmetry.
For example in the right-hand comer there is a grand oval staircase, the
state rooms or hving rooms do not correspond, and the disparity is even
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
50
greater in the wings. The garden front gives no hint ofthe oval hall. This
is enclosed by a great PaUadian terrace front with engaged columns and
Ionic pilasters. The exterior ofthe palace is something quite different from
the arrangement of the interior: from outside no one could suspect any-
thing intricate or unusual in the rooms. A semblance ofregularity is given,
though the palace is anything but regular.
Bernini's taste was a curious mixture of classical inspiration and an
ingenuity pecuhar to himself, which appears frequently in aU his architec-
tural work. Later on, he reverted in the Palazzo Chigi-Odescalchi to a
more traditional arrangement, but his predilection for oval haUs and the
loggia remains. One can always detect in Bernini's buildings an urge to
raise difficulties for the pleasure of solving themthe satisfaction of a
virtuoso who is determined to show off all liis cleverness, and because of
this he is Baroque, and the great master ofBaroque.
Nevertheless it remains true that he achieved his effects without funda-
mentally breaking with the traditions of the Roman Renaissance. He
admired its regular and rhythmic majesty. From it he borrowed, when
designing his windows and doors, the triangular or semicircular motif, as
weU as the beautiful deep-cut arcature. He could understand both Bram-
ante and Michelangelo.
When one looks at the windows designed by Borromini for this palace
the contrast is striking. Their ornamentation of festoons, shells, and the
curved lines all show a refined Mannerism which is completely independ-
ent of tradition and has its inspiration elsewhere. Bernini practises his
variations within the scale ofthe great Classic and PaUadian mode; Borro-
mini will not be bound in the shghtest degree by those rules, though they
must have influenced his art, since his taste was formed under the influence
of Michelangelo. But he wished to break free from this, almost to oppose
it, and because ofthis Borromini stands out as the most individual artist of
his age.
Two things characterize his architectural work: the use of the curved
line, and the extensive interplay of these curved linessuch a Hving rela-
tionship between decoration and the deployment of mass and space that
scarcely one detail could be altered without damaging the whole.^^ The
first workwhich displays his genius is San Carlo aUe Quattro Fontane
(163
8-
41)
sometimes called San CarHno. It is a very small monastic church, but
in spite of the cramped space, he succeeds in creating marvellous effects of
great deHcacy and serenity
[44].
The sixteen Corinthian columns, which lead from the porch up to the
curved altar, are so placed that the nave is contained by them in an eUipse;
they have a rhythm and hfe which seem as natural and unforced as the
beating of a heart
[45].
It is such a perfect triumph of Baroque that one
would hardly expect that the artist who created it could ever work on a
larger scale without this quaHty being lost. Nevertheless it would be unjust
to think ofBorromini as a miniaturist. He was first and foremost an archi-
tect though his delicacy and exquisite scnsibihty were out ofstep with the
51
contemporary fashion wliich demanded things on a heroic scale. Still, even
before completing the interior of San Carlinoand very much before the
fa9ade which had to wait thirty years before it was erectedBorromini
received a commission for the Oratory of San Filippo Ncri wliich prac-
tically adjoined the Cliiesa Nuovaa work which was distinctly Counter-
Reformation
[46]
. For the monastery he used the two-storey elevation that
was the usual treatment of a great many churches then being built in
Rome, but his daring handling of this made it something new. The two
storeys are incurved and so is the three-cusped balcony pediment which
crowns the facade. The centre of the lower order bulges out as though it
might be a small tower, so much so that the whole character oftliis storey
is dominated by the contrast ofconvex and concave. It is an innovation in
architectural decoration, and indeed the foundation of a new tradition.
From now on the richness of a building no longer depended upon the
ornaments that inight be stuck on its walls nor even upon the grandeur of
its columns, but upon the interplay of masses and contrasting lines.
One gets not so much a sense offluid movementthough this is always
present in the exquisite Itahan lightas a feeling of one manual of an
organ responding to another, the chant in stone ofstrophe and antistrophe.
The founder of the Oratorians had wished his order to rejoice
Gaudete
semperand this facade is indeed a hymn to joy. In Rome, which was so
preoccupied with the grandiose and the triumphant, it stands for an inward
happiness and lightheartedness. It was a surprising thing to proclaim at
this date, yet these quahties were to remain, no less than its tragic and tor-
mented aspects, an essential element of Baroque.
Already, when working under Bernini, he had come into conflict with
him. Now their two styles became so markedly different that it is scarcely
possible to praise the one without criticizing the other. It is true that both
derive from Michelangelo, but since they followed divergent roads it is
easy to forget this fact. Since Bernini was out of favour with the new
Pontiff, he looked for a rival to replace him, and Borromini was the
natural choice.
Innocent X, a Pamphih who was an ambitious and self-willed man,
intended to leave his mark on the rebuilding and beautifying ofRome no
less certainly than his predecessors had done.
They had favoured St Peter's and neglected St
John
Lateran to such an
extent that they had almost robbed the ancient basilica of its dignity as a
cathedral. It pleased the new Pope to restore the honour due to it, and the
approaching Jubilee of 1650 gave an excuse. St
John
Lateran should be
redecorated in the contemporary style, and Innocent Xcalled upon Borro-
mini to do it. This decoration of St
John
Lateran was a glorious stage in
the architect's career, but one wonders if it is his most beautiful work.
Some fairly recent work, such as the sixteenth century frescoes, he was
told to destroy. Other parts of the basihca, including Michelangelo's
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
52
ceiling ofthe apostles, he was forbidden to touch. Borromini, who had no
liking for appHed bronze or gilt ornamentation, confined himselfto intro-
ducing eloquent niceties into the robust grandeur ofthe old basihca. How-
ever flawless the tail fluted pilasters which he used to enclose the pillars
may be, however pure those rehefs in white marble placed beneath the
coloured marble niches that contain gigantic statues of the apostles, there
is something in his work that is out ofharmony with the character of the
building
[48].
One feels a gap of too many generations between the main
architecture of St
John
Lateran and Borromini's decorations while in. St
Peter's, the Baroque of Bernini seems a natural development from the
Renaissance. It was indeed a risk to ask Borromini to adapt himself to an
already estabhshed architectural frame instead of giving his imagination
full rein. But at least in the aisles there is one of the most charming pieces
of decoration he ever executed. The figures of cherubim above the arches
remind one of birds in their nests settling to roost. It is a motif of great
nicety, just shghtly rounding the point where the straight lines intersect,
and one which, repeated from bay to bay, adds a note of unity and gra-
ciousness to the whole
[49]
.
Innocent X wished his pontifical glory to be linked with that of St John
Lateran, but his family pride as a Pamphih was bound up with the recon-
struction of the church of Sant' Agnese in the Piazza Navona, which was
only a few steps away from their palace and had therefore become the
family chapel. A whole series of architects had been employed on this
work: first came the Rainaldi, Girolamo and his son Carlo, who were
there till
1653,
and then Borromini became director of works for four
years, until he was supplanted by a committee of five architects.
It is now agreed that the general plan ofthe church, though not the rich
and sumptuous decoration, is due to Borromini. The plan is that of a
Greek cross, though the chapels which are placed between the arms of the
cross give it the appearance ofa rotunda. Magnificent Corinthian columns
and fluted pilasters support the arches and pendentives on which the dome
rests. In the reredos of the high altar and in the concave niches which
house the side altars there are great rehefs in marble
[51].
The facade is one
of the most beautiful in Rome
[50].
It curves inwards between two flanks
which are surmounted by the loggias ofthe campaniles, both ofwhich are
topped with Httle steeples fashioned like Chinese caps. The vivacity and
Hghtness of the campaniles contrast yet harmonize perfectly with the full-
ness ofthe oval dome resting on its drum, which is pierced with high win-
dows. The balance of the whole acliieves a majestic calm. Some echoes
from the facade of St Peter's can also be detected here, though transposed
in a minor key: the colonnaded porch and the lower order which decorates
the entrance to the church. Ajoke, current at the time, said that the figure
of the Nile, in Bernini's admirable fountain in front of the church, was
covering his face to avoid the very sight ofBorromini's work. Some people
have even taken this quip seriously though there is less than nothing to
back it up, for Bernini's fountain is earlier than Borromini's church
[63]. 53
Bernini was, in fact, far from behttUng his rival's success. He studied it and
drew inspiration from it when he prepared the plans for Sant' Andrea al
Quirinale which he built for the Jesuit novices in 1658, The plan of this
building is an ellipse in wliich the entrance and the High Altar face each
other across the short axis. The facade consists of a tall portico with pol-
ished pilasters and a triangular pediment. These severe lines frame the
archivolt, but slightly in front two pillars are placed diagonally under a
decorated baldacchino to make, as it were, a peristyle. The whole is very
simple yet very sophisticated. There are no violent contrasts, but every
nuance obtains its maximum effect
[52].
As you approach, your attention is drawn to the peristyle and, almost
without noticing it, you pause a moment before leaving the street to
enter the church. Then, once over the threshold, one glance takes ir the
whole design:-"^^ the fluted pilasters which separate the arches of the eight
chapels built into the thickness ofthe wall, and the main chapel facing you
in all its sombre magnificence. In front of it are four composite columns,
slightly projected. The pediment above the architrave is incurved and
hollowed out to give room for a statue of St Andrew in glory
[53].
From an unseen cupola hght floods the altar itself, which is framed by
gilded rays and angels. The church is entirely roofed by the coffered and
strongly ribbed cupola, pierced by windows at its base. The deep colouring
of the background is reheved by the white figures of angels and cherubs,
as hght and graceful as flower petals.
It is a perfect achievement, fuU of dehcacy and exquisite detail, and to a
certain extent, this church ofBernini's shows an unmistakable affinity with
Borromini's taste, but not too much emphasis should be laid on this.
With its sumptuous yet sophisticated decoration and its combination of
the rational and functional, Sant' Andrea has a classical quahty.
A chapel for novitiates is perhaps more of an oratory than a church and
must fulfil certain conditions. It need not be big, for there is no large con-
gregation to accommodate, but the novices will come there several times
a day to contemplate the Blessed Sacrament. The church must be defi-
nitely articulated: on both sides of the altar under a small tribune
a
favourite device of modo nostrathere are doors to facihtate the comings
and goings of the levites, and enable them to carry out their daily duties
with dignity. The side altars make it possible to celebrate several masses
simultaneously, and thus give the Fathers more time for their other daily
tasks. It is, in fact, a church where aU the elements of the design have been
subordinated to its general usefulness, and one also that combines magni-
ficence of decoration with harmony ofproportion.
Sant' Andrea al Quirinale shows us, as clearly as any building in Rome,
that the Baroque and the classical are not two incompatible sts'les: the
richness of the one and the balance of the other have here combined to
give the best solution ofutihzrng a given space and fulfilling various func-
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
54
tional needs. It would be difficult to find a more accomplished work ofart
than this small chapel, and Bernini himselfwas fully aware ofthe greatness
of his achievement. In his last years he revisited it in preference to any
other of his buildings. He used to say that he had a particularly soft spot
for it in. his heart, that looking at it banished his weariness and made up for
aU the sorrows ofhis hfe.-"^*
For any Pope who wished as passionately as Innocent X did, that his
pontificate should be renowned and glorious, it was hardly possible to
leave Bernini in retirement. So il Cavahere was asked to resume the work
at St Peter's that had been suspended, and henceforward carried it out
without interruption.
First of aU he undertook the decoration of the transepts, where his very
ingenious use ofperspective accentuates the depth, and his use ofcoloured
marble columns with an abundance of statuary adds to the richness of the
cathedral.
Later, under Alexander VII, Bernini was called upon to solve two prob-
lems which were very much more complex: how to decorate the apse, and
how to plan the square in front of the basilica. The first ofthese problems
called forth aU the talents he possessed as decorator, sculptor and architect.
The dimensions ofthe apse called for a workashighasthebaldacchino, and
for something which, though quite different, would not clash with it.
This time, it was not a question offilhng an empty space, but ofdecorat-
ing a walland the decoration, to succeed, had to be of gigantic propor-
tions. Alexander VII wished, too, that it should not only express the
universal authority of the Roman Cathohc church, but should also be a
memorial to St Peter. Tradition had it that a chair, stUl preserved in the
cathedral, was one which the Apostle liimself had used at the earhest
Christian assembhes. To present this to the veneration of the faithful as a
symbol of doctrinal authority would be but an extension of the cult of
rehcs which had already inspired Bernini when he decorated the pillars
which surround the baldacchino.
He decided to place this old seat in a rehquary shaped like an armchair
[54]
, which would be supported by gigantic figures of the Fathers of the
church, and the size of these figures had obviously to correspond to those
of the statues in the niches of the main piUars. The rehquary itself must be
large enough to be visible from the nave, whence it would have to be seen
through the columns ofthe baldacchino, yet it must not be too heavy, lest
it made the supporting figures of the bishops look ridiculous. It would
hardly have been becoming to present the Fathers of the church in the
attitudes ofMichelangelo's slaves or as Atlases bearing intolerable burdens.
These two conditions made it imperative that the mam design was not too
high, yet this, in its turn, left another problemthat offilling up the space
between it and the vault
[55].
Bernini's genius was equal to the task. The cathedra forms a harmonious
uiiity, but it is built up from two elements which are quite distinct. At the
55
base there is a scene ofpomp, which is definitely secular. In the foreground
are the Fathers ofthe Roman church with their tall mitres, and in the back-
ground the Greek Fathers, bareheaded. They seem to be standing by,
rather than supporting the reliquary, which is of meticulous and elaborate
goldsmith work. Here amongst irmumerable details, the angels and cherubs
bearing the keys of St Peter and the papal tiara are outstanding. The upper
half of the composition is, by contrast, a vision of Heavena glory of
clouds and golden rays surrounding a circular window that lets in the
daylight as if the sun itself were part of the composition, and in the centre
ofthe window is the Dove ofthe Holy Ghost. This astonishing creation in
stucco is one of the most daring works ever achieved by Roman Baroque.
One might almost imagine that the angels of Correggio's Assumption had
suddenly taken on form and body and after a headlong flight from their
dome in Parma had settled down in St Peter's. 'There is no more extra-
ordinary composition in the whole of sculpture,' Marcel Reymond says,
'nor any conception more daring, more difficult to execute or one more
wholly successful.'-'^^
To master all the problems ofheight, space and depth, and to weld the
unavoidably diverse elements into an entity, called for great powers of
imagination and a supreme mastery of technique. How could light grace-
fulness be combined with colossal size? Such a thing would have been
impossible in a static monument and the solution could only be found in
movement. Everything appears to be in motion: the statues at the base
appear to be moving towards the nave, and above we see angels whose
wings, whose faces with half-open Hps, whose very garments seem to
palpitate with astonishing life. Instead of looking at a monument,
one fmds one is watching a drama; any sense ofheaviness or weight has
disappeared.
It has been said that this composition is a hymn to hght; it might equally
well be said that the whole of the cathedra is a poem to the Spirit. The
Holy Ghost, whose symbol we see in the centre of the window is the
dominating principle of the whole work. Those angels, pure spirits, have
half assumed earthly form to enable us to apprehend them. From that
chair the Prince of Apostles has proclaimed the message of the Redemp-
tion. The inspired Fathers of the Church that support it have defmed and
clarified its teachings.
How admirably Bernini has exploited to the full every quaHty of the
materials he usedthe soHdity and deep colour of the gilded bronze con-
trasting with the fragihty and whiteness of the stucco work. The lower
half of the cathedra representing the world of reahty and liistor)^the
Fathers ofthe Church and the rehquaryis given a more substantial tangi-
bility and its majestic presence made more imposing, wîile the brightness
and hghtness ofthe glory, with its angels and clouds, radiate some ethereal
and elusive quahty. One cannot do justice to this work if one fails to
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
56^- appreciate these plastic qualities, but equally one cannot do it justice unless
one recognizes how deeply it is inspired by a fervent spirituaHty.
Yet two objections remain to be answered: one concerns the artistic
method, the other the rehgious approach. No one can possibly fail to
appreciate or underestimate the greatness of the conception, which fully
justifies contemporary comparisons of Bernini with Michelangelo. But
the means employed to reahze it are none the less theatrical. The glory is
a piece of decoration stuck on the wall, a theatrical scenethough un-
doubtedly a marvellous onein which trotnpe Voeil and tricks of perspec-
tive are freely used. There is also a sort of cleverness, a 'fate
presto', a scin-
tillating dash about it which some people may fmd repellent. They con-
demn it on priQciple, maintaining that sheer technical virtuosity has been
used to cover up but not fundamentally to resolve the spatial problems
involved.
The conflict between the classical and Baroque points of view is raised
once again. A historian who studies this period can only acknowledge that
this exists and that all attempts to prove one attitude superior to the other
are futile. The cathedra, like all the great rehgious Baroque works of art,
could not have been conceived had there not been the artistic heritage of
the Renaissance to draw upon and the doctrines ofthe Council ofTrent to
inspire it. There can be no doubt that it is an expression of the particular
atmosphere ofrehgious feeling in Rome that then reigned. Even ifBernini
himselfwere no mystic, he had a profound knowledge ofwhat mysticism
could mean. His rehgious sensibihty and imagination were equally sus-
ceptible to the almost feminine gentleness of angels, eternally young and
ever singing praises of God, and to the majestic ideal of the church's
mission. That he was a devout Christian there can be no doubt, but 'in my
Father's house are many mansions', and Bernini did not inhabit a penitent's
cell. He loved the wondrous and magnificent, and it was wonder and mag-
nificence that he embodied, with all the technical mastery of a great
artist, in his Cathedra Petri.
The work may ahenate and make an almost hermetic impression on
some who, moved perhaps by rationahst philosophy, or a taste for in-
tellectual form, by their inclination for a rehgion ofrigorous penitence, or
ideals of social welfare, see nothing to hke and much to condemn in the
exuberant richness and spectacular effect which confronts them.-"^^ Because
of that, the Baroque of the cathedra may perhaps be considered to be too
closely alhed with one especial interpretation of rehgion and the Church
for it to inspire all the faithful with that unreserved admiration which is
the hall mark of the greatest masterpieces. But to a great many it gives
complete satisfaction aestheticaUy, spiritually and emotionally. Above aU
it displays a rehgious intensity wliich only wilful blindness can ignore, and
it is the most orthodox homage to the teaching ofthe church ever executed
by a Christian artist.
One thing remained to complete the basihca and that was to lay out the
great piazza in front. Bernini rejected the idea of building palaces round it
57
and decided to enclose it by a purely decorative work on a vast scale. It was
planned as an ellipse, a gallery supported by four rows of columns. The
three colonnades would be used by carriages or pedestrians to approach
the church. Here once more a theatrical device is pressed into the service
of a religious idea
[56
&
57].
The church of pilgrimage, the very form of which was a prayer, had
not only to arouse joy in the hearts ofpilgrims after their long journey but
also call forth some sense ofpilgrimage in the heart of a Roman passing it
by every day. It would not be enough merely to give it a good setting as
the termination of yet another vista in the city, as though it were a fme
monument or some church. It was more than that, it was St Peter's, and in
some way it must stand apart. That might have been achieved by buildings
that enhanced its beauty and stressed its unique character.
In constructing the colonnades Bernini also sought to counteract some
disturbing characteristics of the facade, and he succeeded in making it
appear taller, and more compact, by contrast with the greater breadth and
lower height of the colonnade. The idea was undeniably right, though it
shows Bernini more as an inspired decorator than as an architect.
We have already seen how the Renaissance architects favoured free
standing spaces ordered logically and rationally, while the architects ofthe
Baroque sought for movement and surprise.
The chief purpose of the colonnade was of course to give shape to the
piazza and shut out adjacent buildings, but in planning it Bernini certainly
had the desire to erect a formidable barrier to shut in the basilica. By fol-
lowing the colonnade the pilgrims were merely being shown the best way
to approach the church. In the original design it was to spread out on both
sides from the entrance to St Peter's but at the far end, exactly facing the
main door it was to have been broken by a feature resembling a small
triumphal arch. There would thus have been three elements of the colon-
nade. As one walked round it, the views of the basiHca would have been
more varied than those ghmpses we get ofit today framed by the columns,
and through having been partly hidden until the visitor had actually
entered the colonnade, the church would have appeared even larger and
more impressive. The colonnade is, as we see, interrupted, but the trium-
phal arch was never built, and where it should have been there remains
just an empty space.
Also, the present day town-planners, by pulling down the Borgo and
driving the broad avenue of the Via della Conciliazione through it, have
quite changed Bernini's conception. Now the piazza is opened up and
visible from across the river. It is a quite different conception, but one
which nevertheless has found some arguments in its favour. From afar the
colonnade gives an impression ofopening its arms in a gesture ofwelcome
to the pilgrims, and the long vista is successful in its aim ofgiving an added
impression ofheight to the basiHca. But the effect of surprise and wonder
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
58
which Bernini aimed at has been weakened, in. fact, destroyed. Long be-
fore reaching it, everyone knows what St Peter's looks hke.
Sculpture at this time was closely linked with Roman Baroque architec-
ture, imbued with the same spirit and capable of producing works just as
impressive. The cult of the dead had received new encouragement after
the Council ofTrent; this was nothing very new, for it echoed the taste of
the late Middle Ages and carried on the Renaissance predilection for ceno-
taphs. The result was that this became an age ofgreat tombs, designed not
only to commemorate the greatness of the deceased, but also to expound
the lessons of their hves.
In Rome, whether it was due to conviction or merely to pious usage,
great attention was paid to the erection of a tomb worthy of a Pope and
his Pontificate. Sometimes the Pope himself, having perhaps no great con-
fidence in the piety of those who might survive him, preferred to order
his sepulchre in his hfetime. Such was the case with Urban VIII, who
naturally turned to Bernini to design it
[59].
Twenty-five years later, in
1667, it was again Bernini who was chosen to design the tomb ofAlexan-
der VII
[60].
The two great monuments show yet another facet ofBernini's
style in the decoration ofSt Peter's. Both rank amongst the most expressive
works of Baroque art, and what is most interesting, they allow us to see
how, over the period of a quarter of a century, it had evolved and pro-
gressed, for in both tombs the theme is the same.
In both cases the Pope is depicted as surprised by death, a theme to
remind both priest and layman of this stern and inexorable lesson of mor-
tahty. The statues of the virtues for which the Pope had been renowned
are also not only a tribute to his memory, but gravely call to mind that
they alone will carry weight in the hour when the dead man faces the
Supreme
Judge.
The scene is the same, but it has gained in dramatic power,
if we compare the tomb of Alexander VII with that of Urban VIII. The
latter was designed for a niche which directly faced the tomb of Paul III,
the Pope ofthe Trentine CouncU, which had been executed, seventy years
earher, by GugHelmo deUa Porta in the tradition ofMichelangelo, and the
necessity of balancing this composition had to be borne in mind. Bernini
decided therefore to repeat its general pyramidal form: a figure of the
Pope, seated, forms the apex, and beneath, the sarcophagus is flanked by
the Virtues, standing.
Yet even in this design Bernini's Baroque tendencies are very evident
and contrast with the serenity and static quahty of the Renaissance tomb.
The statue of the Pope, cast in bronze, rises from a great marble plinth.
The right arm is raised and the hand spread ui a gesture of benediction to
the world. At this very moment a skeleton, wrought in gilded bronze,
creeps forth from the black marble sarcophagus in front of the plinth, to
write down the name Urbanus VIIIthe summons that none can gainsay.
Even the proportions of the tomb are eloquent with meaning, for in that
small narrow space, till the end oftime, must He the Pontiffwho but now
was ruler of the whole Catholic world. The great statues ofthe virtues are
59
carved in wliite marble and clad in long robes. Justice, leaning with one
arm on the tomb looks up at the Pope with grave sadness. Charity, holding
a sleeping child in her arms, turns with an air of gentleness, almost with a
smile ofconsolation, to comfort another child by her side who is stamping
in a fit of uncontrollable grief.^'^
The scenic character of this composition, built up from three elements
the Papal Benediction, the call ofdeath, and the mourning ofthe Virtues
for the dead Popeas well as the way it reanimates but docs not abandon
the traditions of the Renaissance, makes it the archetype of Baroque
tombs.^^
Antonio Munoz says: 'It is the new form ofa pontifical mausoleum, and
one which was to persist till the time of Canova: it is no longer an archi-
tectural composition, but a throne surrounded with figures: no longer a
sarcophagus, but a catafalque.
''^^
Nevertheless, there is much restraint
about it: it is moving, not sentimentally pathetic, the expressions are calm,
and passion is only shown by the child at the corner ofthe monument, and
the whole work, however mouvemente, gives an impression of sadness
combined with Christian hope. If one compares this with the tomb which
Girardon built for Richeheu in the chapel of the Sorbonne, there is no
great difference of stress to be seen.^^
For the tomb of Alexander VII Bernini again took the figures he had
used for the tomb ofUrban VIII, but now he gave free rein to his imagina-
tion and they are reahzed with a greater intensity: it is one of the most
poignant funereal works of modern sculpture. This drama of Life and
Death is concentrated in one supreme and tragic moment. The Pope is
humbly kneeling on a hassock at his prayers. The tiara, half obscured by
his robes, is placed on the ground at his side. The plinth, a small rounded
dais, itself rests upon a great piece of drapery fashioned of red marble.
But from the tomb beneath, a crypt with doors ofbronze, there springs up
in one violent leap, the Angel ofDeath, clutching at the drapery. It looks
as though everything will be wrenched down and the Pope himself, in the
very act ofprayer, will be somersaulted head first down to the dread gates
below. Charity, though hindered by the heaviness ofthe cliild in her arms,
rushes forward anxious lest she be too late. Truth, slightly further away,
clasps her hands to her breast in fright and recoils as she sees the gaping
tomb. We see a moment ofpure drama, but can one say that it is a work
devoid ofall Christian feeling? How, indeed, could it be else; It was created
in the years 1672-78, when Bernini was at the height of his powers, w^hen
his rehgious faith waxed ever more ardent, the nearer he approached his
mortal end. Does not the very serenity of the Pope at prayer, obhvious to
all that goes on around him, give the one answer that a Christian can make
to the seeming horror that awaits him; If he steadfastly refuses to cast his
eyes down to look on a scene that would make the blood run cold, is that
not because he has already seen some ray of hght which fills him with
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
60 hope? It is not irrelevant to recall that Alexander VII was an extremely
pious man and that, even when as Papal Nuncio he had to mix in the great
world and fashionable hfe, he continued to wear a hair shirt.
The untroubled figure ofthe Pope, confronting death with the serenity
ofprayer is the lesson which the ageing artist wished to convey, the hope
of peace which must be striven for and the recognition of the abyss of
horror into which one can shde. The work may be very Baroque, very
Itahan, and very theatrical, but here there is no rhodomontade: it is a
vehement statement of deep spiritual values.
Chronologically there are two other pieces ofsculpture to be considered
between the erection of these two papal tombs, and they are amongst the
most expressive of Bernini's work. One of them
The Ecstasy
of
St
Teresa
^has aroused as much criticism as praise, but is universally ack-

nowledged as the supreme example of Baroque statuary
[61].
The other. Truth Unveiled by Time, is less well known, and was carved
by Bernini in 1646, when he had fallen from favour. There had already
been several nudes amongst his works but these had shown an affmity with
the Florentine school. Now he broke with that graceful tradition. This
time he envisaged a woman as soHdly built and generously proportioned
as any goddess portrayed by Rubens. Freed from the sheet which covered
her, she awakens in the Hght. It is an allegory ofthe hopes ofrehabilitation
felt by those fallen into disgrace. But of Time, in his usual role of an old
man armed with a scythe, there is no trace. The sheet has been snatched
away and is held high by invisible hands. One has the impression that this
work has dehberately been left unfinished; it possesses all the vigour of a
sketch, and a stress on planes rather than dehcacy ofline which sets it apart
from its age and, to our eyes, seems almost to anticipate Rodin.
And The Ecstasy . . . how many visitors must have seen it since it was
placed, three centuries ago, in the transept of Santa Maria deUa Vittoria,
and how many controversies it has led to ! It is well known that President
de Brosses, when he saw it, was only reminded of a bedroom scene and
even in our day there are some, of great sensibility, who can see in it
nothing more than the expression of profane emotion.
Emile Male has defended the purity of the intentions of the artist, 'who
wished to glorify what purity itself had experienced', and he reminds us
that this depiction ofan agonized swoon is drawn from descriptions ofher
ecstasies given by St Teresa herself. If one remembers the date of this
monument and reahzes that at that time Bernini was subject to every
possible malevolent attack, one can only suppose that he was cautious
enough not to show this work to the public before he had consulted his
friends as to whether it was unexceptionable from an orthodox point of
view. There can be no question of the work being equivocal.
But how indeed was he to portray the ineffable? Flesh is and remains
flesh. The expression of divine love may not perhaps differ from that of
profane love, if one ignores the setting and general atmosphere. It is by the
exact placing of the angel, who will pierce her breast with his arrow and 6i
bring her both pain and solace, that Bernini evokes a spiritual atmosphere.
Yet some critics refuse to recognize the true significance ofthe angel. In his
smile, so full of compassion, they can only see the mischievous grin of a
pander. When the artist tries to represent the ecstasy as the Saint herself
described it, the critics dub it sensuality. This body of a woman, whose
beauty and youth even her scapulary cannot obscure, itself becomes the
scene of a miraclethe fleeting and agonizing fusion ofhving matter with
Divine Spirit. The fmal end of carnal love, but also the almost dcathhke
ecstasy of spiritual union, here find their perfect artistic form.
Throughout the whole composition one has a feeling that a breeze is
blowing, an element elusive, invisible, but nevertheless real. It has borne
the angel from Heaven, it is the breeze that has blown the clouds up to
obscure the sun, and it lifts and models the coarse homespun habit of the
Saint, giving it the hghtness offine silk.
This work was done ten years before the cathedra in St Peter's, though
even now there are premonitions of the later work. Certainly neither of
them could have been either conceived or executed in any age not so
permeated by the fervour and rehgious feeling ofthe century. If this is not
the work of a mystic, at least it is that of an artist so deeply rehgious that
he can successfully present the mystical with an authority that makes those
who carp at it behttle themselves. It is superb. Later artists have made
attempts to reproduce a scene of ecstasy. None have succeeded, and The
Ecstasy
of
St Teresa remains unique in the history of Christian sculpture.
Bernini himself never again attempted to depict an ecstasy. Such a state of
grace is rarely achieved in the hfetime of a rehgious; such grace of inspira-
tion is as rarely achieved by an artist.
Some have compared the St Teresa to the recumbent figure of the
blessed Louisa Albertoni, which was carved in
1675. But there we feel no
angel present, but death; no ecstasy, but the last gasp of a body when the
soul departs. Nor do we find ecstasy in the statue of St Jerome in the
cathedral at Siena. Here the Saint trembles in a transport ofjoy as he con-
templates the Crucifixion and the Love of God.
Bernini loved these two figures of the woman and the angel in which
his profound sensibility found beauty, mystery and compassion. He carved
many angels but, if we leave aside the glory of St Peter's, no angel can
surpass in beauty that of The Ecstasy. The angel who hovers round the
prophet Habakkuk in the group Bernini carved for Santa Maria del
Popolo in
1657 is only symbolic and plays no really effective role like the
angel who appears to St Teresa; he remains a stock figure. Those angels
which, at the request of Clement IX, he executed for the Ponte Sant'
Angelo (two of them were placed in Sant' Andrea delle Fratte) wêre de-
signed as parts of a series of ten bearing the instruments of the Passion.
They have vigour and grace; yet there is something a bit pernickety and
affected about them, as if the artist, after his great masterpieces, could not
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
62 again renew the theme, even though facihty was Bernini's strength and,
some might say, almost a besetting sin.
There is a certain feehng of relaxation when one turns to Borromini,
whose output was not so overwhelming. He too could carve angels, but in
quite a different style. He looked, if one dare say so, for something more
celestial than Bernini understood, and preferred cherubim and serapliim
who could be depicted traditionally without bodies: only a face with a
child's head of hair, and spreading wings. The angels of Borromini leave
no individual impression, nor do they play, hke the angel who visits St
Teresa, any dramatic role, but Borromini uses them to produce an effect
ofother-worldhness that has never been approached. It may be in St
John
Lateran or when he turns them into caryatidsaerial caryatids whose
fluttering wings support the deHcate campanile of Sant' Andrea delle
Fratte
[62].
One sees them again in the last work that Borromini undertook. Here,
above the main doorway in that extraordinary fa9ade he added to San
Carlino in 1667, the figure of San Carlo Borromeo is sheltered by two
angels at his side, whose wings entwine to form a pure and elegant arch
[45].
It is impossible to say what inspired Borromini, whether liis angehc
figures were based on living models, conceived from the reading ofpious
works, or simply sprang from his imagination.
To solve this problem one would have to know how familiar Borro-
mini was with the Byzantine icons wliich for so long influenced the
Sienese school, for the angels ofBorromini have an emotional affinity with
the angels we see on icons. One feels it in spite ofall the difference in tech-
nique, and in spite of the Renaissance which had been undoubtedly the
greatest influence in Borromini's hfe. Once I heard a critic declare that
Western art was incapable of rendering angels because it made them aU
appear like Greek gods, while Eastern rehgious art, which was more ab-
stract, had retained the secret of depicting the spiritual. Tliis is, by and
large, false, but there is a modicum of truth in it. The Platonic ideal of
beauty had been resurrected by the Renaissance and to clothe angehc
beauty in perfected human form was but natural: fairer than the sons of
man, the angels still were essentially related to them. But both Byzantine
and Russian art had broken away from the inspiration provided by natural
objects, in however idealized a form, to interpret more closely their spiri-
tual and emotional feehngs. They created beings which may appear
strange to Western eyes, but their very strangeness is full of mystery and
charm, dream-hke creations, instead of intellectual idealizations. They are
more abstract and removed from the world as it is, but they approximate
more closely to the inner and spiritual hfe. Somehow the introspective
Borromini has given some of this mystery which we associate with
the hieratic images of the Orient to his angels. He was working in a
different tradition, but his fervour and abstract faith have a Byzantine
quaHty.
32
The Burial
of
St Petroiiilla, pciimcd in i6ii by Guercino. 'A profoundly mo\'ing
composition. There are two scenes, one tragic and gripping, the other celestial.
Note the play of shade and light.' (A. Michel. Histoire dc l\m. Vol. VI,
p. %%)
33
The quality of Domcnichino's Last Comimiiiioii
of
St Jerome comes from the
skilful counterpoise of the two groups, and the touching humihty of the Father
of the Church before the Host
34
Caravaggio's Death
of
the Virgin is a huge canvas painted tor the church ot Santa
Maria della Scala in Trastevere and then removed. The painter's contemporaries
reproached him for his lack of rehgious feehng
<-/
35
Caravaggio's St Matthew was intended for the church ot San Luigi dei Frances!
but its brutal strength offended the retnied taste of the aristocracy of the day.
However, others admire Caravaggio's rehgious painting for that very reason
36
Caravaggio's incomparable Madonna
of
Loirtro is an important historical docu-
ment on the life of the poor pilgrims who tiocked to Rome tor the jubilees
RI G
HT. Berninicreated a baldacchino
for St Peter's, enlarging the canopy
that was extended over the Holy
Sacrament in processions to monu-
mental dimensions. He made per-
manent in bronze what had previ-
ously been constructed only of
wood and cloth
37
'This admirable bust of Cardinal
Scipio Borghesc brings back to life,
with all his characteristic features,
his attitude and his expression, the
great lord who was the protector of
the young Bernini.' (M. Reymond,
Lc Bernini,
p.
69)
38
Bernini's Triton fountain in Rome:
'An example of the use of curved
forms alone, without a straight line.
It is one of the most interesting
works in existence from the point
of view of composition, taste in
ornament and creative fantasy,
and is undoubtedly one of the
master's greatest.' (M. Reymond,
Lc Bernini,
p. 42)
1
^s^
^K^^dH|H|
^s^n
^
^^^^^^T "
)^^^
40 The statues in the transept of St Peter's were designed by four different sculptors.
41
ABOVE left: Bernini's statue of St Longinus, 1638, the Roman soldier who
pierced the side ofthe Dead Christ, above right: St Veronica, by Mochi,
1639,
running towards Christ on the Cross with her handkerchief, below left: The
statue of St Andrew,
1659, by the Flemish sculptor Duquesnoy, which led to a
rift with Bernini, below right: St Helena, mother of Constantine, sculpted by
42 Bernini's pupil, Bolgi, in 1649
.
43
44
The interior of the httle convent
church of San Carlo alle Quatre
Fontane (San Carhno) was the first
work to reveal Borromini's genius;
he achieved marvellously graceful
effects within a narrow space
45
On the extraordinary facade of San
Carlino the figure of St Charles
Borromeo is enshrined over the
central door; the meeting of the
wings of two angels forms a single
pure and elegant arch
46
Borromini's Oratory of San Filip-
po Neri is a work of the Counter-
Reformation. The facade curves in-
wards on both storeys, as does the
trilobite pediment which crowns it
47
In Sant Ivo alia Sapienza, the chapel
of the University of Rome, Borro-
mini has set soaring above a hexa-
gon a round dome surmounted
by a lantern which is continued
in a spiral
48
ABOVE. In the interior of St John Latcran, Borroniini's ornamentation fails to
achieve all the harmony needed in a building ofthis kind, below. One of Borro-
niini's charming decorative features: cherubs in the side aisles of St John Latcran
49
50
51
LEFT. Sant' Agncsc, by Borroniini.
Innocent X, of the Pamphili family,
had this church built in the Place
Navone, near the patrician palace
of which it became the chapel.
above: The faqiade. The plan is a
Greek cross, but the placing of the
chapels between the arms of the
cross makes the church appear
round. The interior (below) is Cor-
inthian with magnificent columns
and fluted pilasters supporting the
arcades and the pendentives on
which the cupola rests
52
53
RIGHT. Sant Andrea al Quirinale, by
Bernini, has a facade (above) with
a lofty portico, slender pilasters and
a triangular pediment. Severe lines
form a moulded arch, a little in
front of it, and two columns placed
diagonally under a decorated bal-
dachino form a kind of peristyle.
The interior (below) has a setting
of fluted pilasters, between which
open the arcades of eight chapels in
the thickness of the wall. Faces of
angels, lively and delicate, stand out
against the sombre background
LEFT. St Peter's chair, traditionally
believed to have been used by him.
Bernini set it in a great reliquary in
the form of an armchair upheld by
huge figures of the Fathers of the
Church, above: detail
RIGHT. Bernini decided to circum-
scribe the open space of the basilica
of St Peter's in a great elliptical
frame consisting of a colonnade
(above). The interior of the colon-
nade (below)
54
55
58 The arrangement of porticos in the side aisle of St Peter's leads the eye to the
central pillars supporting the cupola. The portico columns are the fmest cut from
single blocks of stone since classical times
Two tombs in St Peter's, by Bernini, left: The sepulchre of Pope Urban VIII,
which breaks away from the Renaissance tradition and becomes the archetype
of the Baroque tomb, right: The tomb of Pope Alexander VII, whose calm
figure embodies the teachings of the ageing Bernini: that we must continue to
59
hope for peace though we may have to admit the reality of fear
60
jSjj^p^
'
^^^1^.
6l The Ecstasy of St Teresa, by Bernini: 'I saw close to me, on my left, an angel in
corporeal form. . . . He held a long barb of gold. ... It seemed to me that trom
time to time he plunged it through my heart. . . . The exquisite joy caused by
this incomparable pain is so excessive that the soul cannot want it to cease.' {Life
of
St Teresa ofAvila)
^^Û^'
Wn.
-
^.^^J*JBSrzz
'-^
62 Angels, caryatids light as breath, sccni to support the strongly-contrasted but
delicate architecture of the campanile of Sant Andrea delle Fratte, by Borromini
63 The fountain in the Piazza Navona, for which Bernini chose a cosmic theme:
the gift of water distributed by great rivers to the four comers of the earth
64 One of the features ot Baroque art, the grotesque, is seen in this caricature which
frames the windows and the doors of the Casa Zuccaro, in the Via Gregoriana,
Rome, built at the end of the sixteenth century' by Federico Zuccaro
There can be no question of considering the works of Bernini or Borro-
63
mini one by one, but those which have been discussed are representative.
Yet, if only to refute the opinion that eloquence, sometimes carried to
excess, always characterizes Bernini's work, one should recall the austere
simphcity of the church in Ariccia. It is a design carried out in white un-
relieved by any gilt and is crowned by a low cupola.
A French traveller in the eighteenth century, a contemporary of Presi-
dent de Brosses, summed it up very fairly. 'Here is the best possible taste.
The composition is learned, the eyes are soothed by looking at it, and the
execution is admirable.' Marcel Reymond quotes this and adds, 'No one
who holds the current view about Bernini could ever imagine this was one
of his works.
'^^
How sad to think that even forty years after Reymond
pubHshed his studies these words remain equally true today. If only
opinions about Bernini were not still founded on prejudice instead of
knowledge ofhis works, this church would not surprise us, Bemuii, master
of triumphant Baroque as he was, remained, especially as an architect, a
classicist and at Ariccia one can recognize his especial admiration for the
Pantheon and how at home he felt with the antique.
The httle portico of three arches under the triangular pediment is so
simple that it gives almost an impression of economy, but it shows once
more the care which Bernini took never to let the worshippers enter the
centre ofa church straight away, and shows too how inextricably mingled
were the decorator and the architect in him. At some distance the church
at Ariccia is surrounded by a low and regular gallery which isolates it and
cuts it off from the buildings of the piazza and forms, as it were, a stone
casket for it. It is a theatrical device, but one carried out with great dis-
cretion, with no searching after effect or attempt to surprise. Only calm
and quietness reign here. The truth is that Bernini varied the stress on the
decorative or architectural elements of a work according to the circum-
stances, unless he fused them into an indissoluble whole.
One has noticed this in Sant' Andrea al Quirinale and will come across it
again in his designs for the Louvre. It is equally true of the fountains for
which he was so famous. It needed an architect to build a fountain, though
it might seem but a decorative element in a piazza or a piece of urban
landscape gardening.
In Rome, to bring in water to the city had been a vital necessity, but by
the time of Innocent Xthere was such a plethora offountains that the mob
began shouting 'No more fountains. Give us bread.' The most remarkable
of all Bernini's fountains was the one which the Pope asked him to build
in the Piazza Navona
[63 ]
. Here his twin talents scored a veritable triumph.
The fountain was to serve as a base for an obeHsk which had once adorned
the Circus of Maxentius on the Apennine Way. Bernini planned his com-
position round no less grand a theme than the divine power of water,
which through the great rivers brings fecundity to the vegetable and
animal kingdoms in all four quarters of the globe. The Nile was to stand
F
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
64 for Africa; the Danube for Europe; the Ganges for Asia, and the Americas
were symboHzed by the Rio Plata. The water gushes forth from, grottoes
overshadowed by blocks ofstone, which make up the artificial mountains
crowned by the obeHsk.
Here a Hon, a crocodile and a horse have come down to drink, and in
the fourth grotto the waters lap round the base of a palm tree. The statues
of the rivers are placed at the cardinal points; they may be serene or tur-
bulent or, like the figure ofthe Nile, mysterious, veiling her head to show
that no one knows whence she came. Such symbohsm would have been
clear to any Roman of the seventeenth century, and he might well let his
imagination dwell on the universal blessings ofwater merely by looking
at this one Roman fountain.
The difference between Bernini and Borromini is profound, whether one
considers their temperaments or their works, but both of them enriched
Rome by creating new masterpieces which in their vigour and beauty
recalled and developed the glorious inheritance of the Renaissance. They
were outstanding in their generation, and what a generation it was! Ber-
nini had a whole workshop of students to carry out his designs. There
were the sculptorsFancelh, Baratta, Cartari, MazzuoH, MoreUi, Gioretti
and Roggiwho worked on the figures for the Piazza Navona, the tomb
ofAlexander VII and for those of the Ponte Sant Angelo.
One painter, Gaulli, otherwise known as Baciccio, might also be described
as his disciple. He admitted that he owed nearly everything to Bernini, but
that the most valuable thing he had learnt was the maxim that there must,
if possible, be movement in any work ofart. Baciccio painted the dazzling
fresco of St Ignatius in glory which is, in its stucco frame, the main feature
of the saint's chapel in the Gesu [III] . His use of colour in the churches of
Vignola and Tristano initiated a new tradition of richness and brilhance
that was carried on by the works of Fra Pozzo until the end of the
century.
Many other independent artists were also busy at the same time: building
churches and palaces, decorating altar pieces, painting pictures or designing
those inumerable frescoes which decorate so many aisles and ceihngs and
cupolas. The richness of their colouring and stucco work, and their exu-
berance and brilhance gave a special character to the Roman churches.
Some artists were both architect and painter. For instance to Pietro da
Cortona (who died in 1669) we owe the frescoes in the Barberini palace
and those in the apse of the Chiesa Nuova, the beautiful curved facade of
SS Luca e Martina at the Forum, the noble setting of Santa Maria deUa
Pace with its small colonnaded portico in front of the convex facade, and
the two colonnades wliich form the atrium to Santa Maria in Via Lata on
the Corso
(1658).
The most restrained artist and the one who approached most nearly to a
classical serenity of style was Algarde (i 592-1
654)
who was both an archi-
tect and a sculptor who became renowned for his admirable marble reliefs 65
for altar pieces.
Carlo Rainaldi, whom Louis XIV asked to draw up plans for the Louvre,
made an astonishing work of the church of Santa Maria in Campitelli.
Here he found a perfect solution to very difficult spatial problems by using
the interplay of the columns as the main decorative feature.
Generation after generation of new painters arose. Domenichino, who
had shown such genius in decorating Sant' Andrea della Valle, died in 1641,
and Guido died the next year. But Guercino, the last of the Bolognese,
survived them for more than twenty years, and when he died in 1666 both
Carlo Maratta, who had been born in 1625, and Baciccio, born in
1639,
were reaching their full maturity. In considering Roman painting of this
period we should also include Poussin and Claude Lorraine, not only be-
cause of their long residence in the city but also because the studios they
founded there played an essential part in the artistic life of the city.
Velasquez too came to Rome, as Rubens had done before liim. He struck
up friendships with artists working there, and before he returned to paint
the Spanish princesses, he captured for posterity the surprising and im-
perious figure of Innocent X whose piercing gaze seems to look beyond
the spectator and fathom the secrets of the soul and the mystery of the
world.
A new style had been formed. It was one that had grown out of the
Renaissance and paid more respect to it than is often reahzed, but a century
had elapsed since then and it had both to express new values and to serve
a new society.
The names we have mentioned form an incomplete and restricted hst
and to a certain extent may give an unbalanced impression, nor, in the
present state of our knowledge, do we know how many works are
wrongly attributed, and there are many other artists of whom we know
nothing.
Rome had become an astonishing city, with no industry or commerce
to speak of, and with a liinterland that was steadily growing more im-
poverished. The reasons for its increase of population, its progress and its
growing prestige were two: it was the religious capital ofCathoHcism and
its fame had spread throughout the world as an artistic centre. One must
imagine the constant stream of foreigners, coming to the city for every
variety ofreasons. The visits ofQueen Christina of Sweden (who came to
Rome in
1655,
left after a few months, and then returned to settle there
until her death) may be taken roughly as typical ofthe pomp and formahty
that marked the arrival ofa prince or ambassador with their great retinues.
They found in Rome a world and way of Hfe of a riclmess not even
dreamt of anywhere else in Europe. But apart from the illustrious, what a
mass of obscure, but not unimportant visitors there were. Foreign artists,
not all of them destined to become great masters, came here for dicir ap-
prenticeships, and attached themselves either to the Academy of San Luca
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
66 or to some Roman studio. Priests, usually belonging to one of the orders,
came to Rome to learn from their Masters the text of new offices and to
absorb the rehgious spirit, which they were in their turn to spread through-
out Europe and as far as America. The ramifications of their missionary
work, which carried the values of Baroque Rome across the world, are
known only in part, but to understand one of the most important aspects
of the history of civihzation we must study how they were welcomed,
where they could expand their influence and where they met with ob-
stacles that proved insurmountable.
BOOK II
CHAPTER IV
^he "^Keception
of
baroque
While Rome, the papal city, was intoning its beautiful liturgies as though
each were a song of triumph, one might well ask what was happening in
Europe.
In the middle of the century the wars seemed to have at last died down
throughout the continent. They had been long and bitter, and for thirty
years from 1618 to 1648 Germany had seen nothing but the march and
countermarch of armies. German historians have estimated that in certain
parts the loss in human hfe and material damage amounted to no less than
60 per cent. The devastation was greatest in Pomerania, in Mecklenburg,
along a line drawn from Magdeburg to Coburg, along the Main and,
south of this river, as far as Lorraine to the west and Augsburg to the east.
The devastation was equally severe in the Palatinate, on both banks of the
Rhine, and along the upper reaches of the Danube Valley. To the east, the
valley of the Oder and several districts in Silesia suffered the same fate.
Here, though the percentage of devastation was not so high, and varied
between
33
per cent and dd per cent, it was very considerable, and the
stricken areas comprised the greater part of the EmpirePomerania,
Mecklenburg, Brandenburg, Hesse, a large part of Saxony, Silesia, Bo-
hemia, the rich plains of northern Moravia, the whole of Bavaria, the
middle valley of the Danube, the plains of Baden and Alsace, the arch-
bishoprics of Trier, Mainz and Cologne, the Duchy of Nassau, the Land-
grave ofHesse, and the small principaHties south ofBrunswick. The losses
were not quite so heavy in the territories bordering this area
(15
per cent
to
3 3
per cent) but the only regions that escaped comparatively hghtly
which means nevertheless, an average destruction of

1
5
per centwere the
rather barren lands of Westphaha or the alpine regions of the Hapsburg
domains. The great forest lands suffered less, and became an asylum for
refugees.^ Farther east we fmd the long drawn-out mihtary campaigns had
created equal havoc in Poland, and Russia was recovering very slowly from
the disasters that had overwhelmed her at the beginning of the centur)%
in the tragic and troubled times from 1601 to 161 3.
The appalling losses that the European population had suffered are stag-
gering. Nearly every country had been decimated, and the survivors were
busy rebuilding ruins. One might almost speak of a Central Europe, bled
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
70
white and practically empty, faced in. the south and the west by another
Europe, teeming with Hfe and about to harvest its riches. But this would
be an exaggeration. First England, and then France, during the first years
of Louis XIV, had suffered the shock of civil war. In France, the north-
eastern provinces and the territories which were claimed by France and
Spain had both suffered horrors that equalled any in Central Europe. Nor
was war the only source of these calamities. Failure of harvests and con-
sequent famines, epidemics, a rising death rate and a fall in the number of
marriages and births accounted for much of the misery. But these natural
visitations always come in the wake of war and, because ofit, with added
violence. Consequently any countries or regions that were spared the
abysmal ruin caused by an invading army found themselves in a privileged
position.
Their governments could coUect taxes and call upon the military re-
sources of their lands, and make investments both at home and abroad.
Their power steadily increased. Even the people, who might wish to fight
a losing battle for their pennies and their privileges against an ever en-
croaching State, enjoyed one inestimable boonday-to-day security
though even by present-day standards that security was precarious enough.^

To ascribe everything to demographic causes is doubtless wrong, but
one must remember that at this date, when Germany and the Danubian
lands had been decimated, France had a population of fifteen million.
What effect could poHtical science, the wisdom ofprinces or the wishes of
those m power have upon a country that was barely inhabited; And what
mutations of social conditions, professional aptitudes, commercial under-
takings and varied intellectual intercourse were barred in a society teeming
with hfe and ready to inherit the fruits of a ripe intellectual and technical
civilization? The strength ofthe State did not, most decidedly, rely merely
upon the number ofits citizens. England, the Netherlands and Spain, all of
whom were more sparsely inhabited than France, were yet predominant
not only in Europe, but throughout the world. In all three cases their
ascendancy was based on naval power, which enabled them to dominate
the normal maritime trade routes, and, what was growing ever more im-
portant, the Atlantic. The port of Lisbon, and even more so, the port of
Cadiz were the main centres of wealth. The Casa de Contractacion in
Seville wielded the greatest economic power at that time; it was the
clearing-house for all the ingots ofprecious metal that came from America,
and controlled the distribution of them through the channels ofEuropean
commercecommercial Hfe itself was centred on London and Amster-
dam. The Enghsh and Dutch fleets carried the goods from one country to
another, and it was their shipping companies which were able, by pooling
resources, to risk more to explore new profitable trade openings than
would have been possible for any private sliipowner. The Bank of Am-
sterdam became the centre of international fmance, and played a part in
this expansion of trade. The power of commercial capitaHsm which had
Ill Baciccio created this dazzling fresco of the apotheosis ot St Ignatius. Surrounded
by stucco ornamentations, it dominates the altar of the Jesuit saint in the Gesu
in Rome, and its brilhant colour enriches the church ot Vignola and Tristano
THE RECEPTION OF BAROQUE
been born in the past century now rose to new heights; and geographically,
71
north-western Europe increased in importance. It was not unconnected
with the Protestant and predominantly Calvinist teaching, that had in-
stilled a feeling of self-confidence in man's achievement and saw in pros-
perity gained by labour a blessing bestowed by the Almighty. These
commercial northern countries experienced a new urban development at
a time when the Italian cities had passed their zenith and, although still
wealthy, were beginning to live on their capital instead of their earnings.
In the Netherlands, perhaps nearly a half of the population became ur-
banized.
These densely populated and flourishing towns, inhabited by the middle
classes, were also in a sense strong Protestant fortresses where the propa-
ganda of the Counter-Reformation or the sumptuousness of Itahan art
found httle response. If, as historians of German culture are apt to do, one
describes everything seventeenth century as Baroque, it can only be looked
on as a chronological idiom, for there is nothing here that even reminds
one of contemporary Roman art.
It is not that Dutch art of the seventeenth century is always austere, or
lacking in exuberance and richness, but it retains a reahsm and a preference
for sohdity that is antipathetic to the exuberant Latin taste for the fantastic.
One feels it is more akin to the German Renaissance, with its massive
architecture and gross and heavy ornamentation.
In the Belgian Provinces, which were Cathohc and Spanish, we find the
oppositenot only influences from the Iberian Peninsula but also from
Italy found a welcome there and managed to mingle with the local tradi-
tions of the Renaissance (and in a minor degree with the more ancient
Gothic) to produce a new artistic resurgence. In England, the king, the
court and the aristocracy were all influenced by the Roman Baroque school.
We have already seen that Charles I and Henrietta Maria had commis-
sioned busts from Bernini. The British ambassador in Venice was Fielding
(the second Earl of Denbigh). He was so fervent an admirer of Itahan
music that ManeUi and Ferrari, who invented the cantata, both dedicated
collections of songs to him. Indeed, was it not in Rome itself that Milton
in 1639 conceived the idea of writing Paradise Lost?
The success ofthe Baroque was ofcourse predominantly bound up with
the Counter-Reformation, but economic factors played scarcely less a role.
In the economic and technical progress ofthe seventeenthcentury, scientific
thought played a considerable part, but the industrial revolution w'hich it
ultimately led to, and which was eventually completely to change Europe
and the world, still lay far ahead. Until machinery had developed, and
demanded large concentrations of workmen near the factories, industrial
production was still closely interwoven vdth rural hfe. Commercial capi-
tahsm was interested in trading goods that were directly or indirectly
agricultural: cereals and all manner of foodstuffs, or textiles which were
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
72
processed from flax, hemp and wool. The economic structure of Europe
had deep roots in the countryside and rural hfe. And two great forces
contributed to conserve this pattern. The devastation which we have men-
tioned, had to be made good, and land that had been abandoned had to be
brought back under the plough. The rise of the great landowner which
had been evident in. most countries at the end of the sixteenth century still
continued. In addition, during the first third of the seventeenth century
there was a slump in the production of the American mines, and this had
had economic repercussions throughout the world.^ Were the lodes ofore
worked out? Would the ever-increasing costs of the Spanish possessions
in America swallow up the wealth that was produced and leave no ingots
or money over for the mother country? This scarcity of silver was the
cause of the fmancial difficulties which faced the Spanish government in
its war against France. It may indeed have been the cause ofits fmal defeat.
It certainly modified the whole ofEuropean economy.
The great powers tried out various paUiatives, but a general stagnation
persisted and this in its turn had the effect ofkeeping more people working
on the land. At the same time, now that immediate peril seemed to be a
thing of the past, the birth-rate took an upward, if irregular, trend: the
peasant masses increased, only to fmd themselves in the grip of an in-
adequate and inelastic economy. What, one may ask, has this growing
strength of the peasantry or the monetary crisis to do with Baroque? The
effects of both were, in fact, very great.
Sometimes one is led to beheve that the display ofriches so favoured by
sixteenth-century rehgious art might have appeared a scandalous thing in
the eyes ofthe lower classes, who still lived in misery. To the Roman plebs
it meant nothing, in spite of riots that were occasionally caused by excep-
tionally severe conditions. The people of Rome were used to hving a hfe
of poverty surrounded by churches and palaces which were resplendent
with gold and marble, but this richness was not offensive. To them it
seemed that, in some measure, they shared the grandeur. Marcel Reymond
with his hvely understanding of the spirit of Baroque, wrote 'Never in
this world has the democratic ideal been affirmed in so sovereign a manner.
Never have men been told more clearly "You are all brothers, and even if
equahty is not present every hour of your hfe, you will find her at least
from the moment you open the doors of this church and enter the sanc-
tuary where all these riches are offered to you, the poorest ofmen, and you
may find treasures and pageants of art which before were reserved for the
Princes of the earth".'*
Perhaps the fraternal intentions ofthe artists concerned have been slightly
exaggerated, but the Roman people certainly responded as though they
had received such an invitation. Nor did this happen only in Rome. In
Naples and in Venice it was the same. One almost wonders if the beauty of
the chmate did not play its part in this. Though it may have increased the
laziness ofthe poorer classes or at least have stifled any initiative to conquer
their poverty, it made life out of doors pleasant; they enjoyed the con-
73
stantly changing beauty of the skies and the varied lights reflected by the
sea or canals, and they may have come to love the magnificent display of
the arts, whether profane or religious, as yet another rich and pleasing
aspect of nature. Yet, if we turn to countries where the climate could
hardly be considered a help in forming such an appreciation of splendour,
we fmd that the peasants reacted in much the same way to the ostentation
ofBaroque. And one knows very httle ofthe peasantry of the seventeenth
century when it comes to drawing a picture of Europe as a whole. Every
country and even every province has its own characteristics. The feeling
and the customs of each depend on local working methods, their relation-
ship with the neighbouring countryside, the degree of hbcrty or enslave-
ment under which they labourthough all have one thing in common,
for tradition weighs more heavily on them than on town-dwellers. A
peasant's livelihood was above all precarious: bad weather or an epidemic,
against which there was no protection, might at any moment inexorably
overwhelm him and plunge him in even greater misery. Mostly he relied
on saws and maxims to tell him what to do: nearly everywhere a peasant
would be apt to dig in his heels against rational argument, but be credulous
when anything touched on local lore. He was rehgious, but he usually
preferred his rehgion to be vague and superstitious, without morals and
devoid ofdoctrine. He was a baptized Christian, but still a pagan at heart.^
It is worth remembering that Italy, the very country that Rome seemed so
splendidly to dominate, was, in the seventeenth century, an Italy where
the countryside was still a mission field as much in need of the preaching
orders as any Protestant country, though their deviations from the faith
were quite different.^ They were ready for any marvel; they wanted some-
thing to brighten their hard and wearisome hves, some sign ofhope orjoy
to mark the seasons of the year which would take them out of the ever)^-
day round and lend them some enchantment or reassurance. Often enough
this happiness and sense ofwonder could only come from their participa-
tion in church festivals or from the reflected glory of a fete held in one of
the great houses. To endure a hard day-to-day hfe which primitive tech-
niques and an almost total dependence on the weather rendered only too
often discouraging, with nothing to read, vdth no amusements except
those the village itself could provide, was the lot of a labourer in the
country. Had it not been for the parish church, or an abbey in the neigh-
bourhood, they might never have knovvm. there were such tilings as silver
and gold, nor seen polished marbles or the rich colours ofpictures. Anyone
Hving in the eastern provinces or in the plains of Russia owed whatever
ghmpses they had of beauty or grandeur to the hturgy or to the architec-
ture of the church.
In Central and Eastern Europe, and in the south ofGermany, the peasant
population, incredibly poor and inured to misery as they were, never
thought of resenting Baroque for its ostentation or flamboyance. They
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
74
welcomed it sometimes with enthusiasm for those very qualities, for they
brought some ray ofHght into the drabness. The works ofart in their local
church were a source of pride whether they were of such quaUty that
might appeal to the most exacting connoisseur, or merely the naive
illuminations in a missal.
To have thought that the lavish expenditure ofthe church or the gentry
on such things could have any relation to their own unremitting poverty
was beyond most of these simple people. Nothing could be further from
the truth than to imagine or describe the people as satisfied with their lot,
jogging along happily, posies in hand, in interminable rural processions.
They were the same men who rose in revolt against the taxes imposed by
the king or local barons and sometimes, as in 1670, 1675 and 1680, one
could speak of a peasant revolution that shook all Europe. It raged from
the Volga, where the serfs rose under Stepan Razine, through Bohemia,
where castles were burnt down, on to Brittany, where breakings on the
wheel and hangings were ordered by de Chaulnes. There was nothing
idyUic about this, but all the same too much stress should not be placed
upon the uprisings. There was something in the peasant soul that was
particularly susceptible to a rituahstic reHgion and imaginative art.
The missionaries of the Counter-Reformation, who were often them-
selves of peasant origin, understood this perfectly. It is true that part of
their effort was concentrated on proselytizing the upper classes, on the
principle that if you were sure of conquering the officers you would also
get the men. But it is a grave mistake to ignore the care taken to make
direct contact with the rural masses, and evangehze them. The methods
employed were simple and few, though considerable subtlety could be
used in putting them into practice: church services were made attractive
by fine singing, and the churches themselves, with their almost theatrical
flair for hghting, had an appeal. The devotion felt for a Calvary or a local
statue was encouraged by pilgrimages, and parochial Hfe became more
closely bound up with one particular saint. CathoHc propaganda in the
seventeenth century scored its greatest successes in southern Germany,
Bohemia, and Poland, in regions that had recently been devastated
areas where the people were gradually filtering back and, on the whole,
settling down as peasants. Like them reHgion had practically to start again
from scratch, and it borrowed Roman Baroque forms. Under the circum-
stances it is difficult indeed to discover quahties which some fmd to be
racial and indigenous. Even Russia, still faithful to the Greek Church and
cherishing a hatred of the Latin heresya hatred that was intensified be-
cause ofits associations with its dreaded neighbour, Polandstill turned to
Baroque for church decoration throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries. It wâs because Russia was poor and a peasant country, and more-
over, being Orthodox, favoured the Hturgy and the cult of saints.
At the other extreme of Europe the Spanish people showed an equal
love of the spectacular, and religious faith, to which there was added here
a touch of savagery, delighted in frequent large and fanatical processions.
75
Classical taste was confined to court circles or the cultured few, but the
mass of the people showed a passion for almost nightmarish imagery.
During Holy Week they loved to see the huge painted figures of Christ,
dripping with blood, and of the Virgin, pale and weeping, borne in pro-
cession, and clothed with embroideries worked by the devout. No doubt
it was a renewal of a medieval trend, but it was animated by a new fer-
vency that led to a new piety, and the younger generation were so much
drawn to a cloistered Ufe that it is beyond question that rehgious celibacy
played its part in the depopulation of Spain in the seventeenth century.
This movement would never have grown to such proportions had it not
been for the misery of hfe on the land. Here poverty, in sharp contrast to
the rich cities, was unrelenting and the inhabitants thought that they could
find in rehgion a comfort that was denied them on every other side.''
One must not look to the agricultural masses for the origin of the
Baroque but, when once it had been introduced to them, its particular
form of sensibihty aroused a strong and enduring response
[68].
In the
Cathohc or Orthodox countries, where the pattern of rural hfe persisted
for several generations, we find that the Baroque maintained its power and
appeal. We find it losing its hold when new economic forces break down
the traditional way of Hfe and gradually introduce urban values to the
countryside. The dates when this happened differ from country to country.
While the Baroque was spreading throughout Italy, absolute monarchy
was strengthening its hold in several European states, and the central
authority of the king was steadily encroaching upon the powers in the
provinces or at court which had retained till then a degree of autonomy.
Local hberties and the privileges of rank were both curtailed, and the ten-
dency was to standardize the law.
This change was brought about in many different ways. An absolute
monarch might impose his will and command obedience by crushing
rebellion by armed force, by sending his own agents to suspend traditional
administrative functions, by levying taxes, or by hmiting the judicial and
fiscal privileges of the clergy. At the same time the king was apt to inter-
vene in economic affairs, to direct production, control competition, and
subordinate individual initiative to the interests of the State. This was a
monarchy at the same time mihtary and pohtical, and administrative. The
monarchy can be looked at from many angles, and historians differ widely
in their appreciation of this centraHzed authority; it depends largely on
what they mean by the progress of the country or the hfe of its citizens.
Some see in it the birth of despotism; others, coherence and reason work-
ing together to organize the State on the best possible lines. Others,
according to how they interpret the spirit ofBaroque, with its many-sided
imagination, hold that an atmosphere inimical to order and unity was
being fostered.^
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
76
There are no lack of arguments to back up this point of view. The age
of Henri II in France and of Phihp II in Spain, and to a certain degree the
intervention ofRicheHeu in hterary and artistic hfe, all favoured a classical
ideal based on the rules of reason or the imitation of the best models. But,
though this is true, absolute monarchy was in no way the offspring of
jurists or doctrinaires. A philosophy of royal power was in line with the
Renaissance; it was backed up by arguments based on classical history and,
largely through the achievements of MachiaveUi, by a science of govern-
ment which upheld and strengthened it. But absolute monarchy is essen-
tially reHgious.
As a matter ofcourse, in the tradition ofthe Middle Ages, it brought the
priest's consecration, and by 'the divinity that doth hedge a king', raised
him above the laity as though he were himself half-priest. Reiterating but
reformulating this thought, the prince's authority needed no intermediary.
The power of the king became Divine Right, nor was it possible for any
secular or ecclesiastical power to absolve subjects from their obedience.
In France GaUicanism trembled lest the Pope claimed a right to depose
kings.^ In the Protestant countries, the sovereign became head of the
church. In Russia the middle of the century saw a renewal of the quarrel
between the church and the Empire, which ended in the submission ofthe
patriarch. But, outweighing all that, monarchy was and remained rehgious
because it wished to create round the dignity and person of the sovereign
a feeling of trust and fervent admiration that was essentially a reHgious
emotion. In that we can perhaps see the essence ofmonarchy in the seven-
teenth century. The fulsome and subservient phrases which fill the poHtical
tracts or books of the period are witness only to the conventional hyper-
bole of the time and carry httle weight compared with the bearing and
actions of people. At the height of the rebelhon in Bohemia, when the
king's deputies were defenestrated, the churches tolled their beUs to mourn
the death of Mathias, who was, whether one obeyed him or not, the
legitimate sovereign. During the Civil Wars in England the Parhamentary
soldiers always admitted that Charles I was the true king, and even when
he was beheaded in Whitehall women rushed forward to dip their hand-
kerchiefs in his blood. The fame of the French kino-s for touching; for the
King's Evil was so widespread that the roads throughout Flanders and
Lorraine were crammed with invahds making their way to Paris, where
they blocked the courtyard of the Louvre so that the Most Christian
Sovereigneven if only a horror-stricken child Hke Louis XIIImight
touch them and say 'May God cure you. The King has touched you.'-'-^
The re-estabhshment of the monarchy after the wars was not entirely
due to clever pohtical manoeuvres. It was due to the enthusiasm of the
people, who felt that a nation without a legitimate king was widowed, and
while the throne was empty or disputed, would remain bereft; it was that
feeling that was responsible for the recall ofHenri IV to Paris and, after the
Fronde, for the welcome given to the young Louis XIV. In Russia it was
an outcry for a 'legitimate' king that brought Michael Romanov to the
77
throne.^^ When one considers this, it is very difficult to link up the idea of
monarchy with a purely national ideal or to ignore the fact that an absolute
monarchy appealed more and more strongly to sentiment and emotion
the more it elevated the person of the king. Thus, it appeared right that
royalty should be surrounded by pomp and circumstance that would in-
spire respect in all who approached it. The fact that a king like Francis I,
who was an enhghtened connoisseur, enjoyed assembling tlic best artists
of his day and surrounding himself with artistic treasures, has little to do
with it. It was a much more serious matter than a question of the good
taste of one cultured individual. Ilicheheu stressed the importance ofroyal
palaces in impressing strangers with the grandeur ofthe king.^^ Bossuet, in
the next generation, takes up the same theme with prophetic fervour:
'Expenditure on the magnificence and dignity of the king is no less
necessary ... to maintain his majesty in the eyes of strangers . . .
'King Solomon was served with vessels of gold. All the vases in the
house of Lebanon were of pure gold . , .
'God forbad ostentation that springs from vanity and the puffed-up folly
of a court intoxicated by riches but He was well pleased that the Court of
the King was brilHant and magnificent, to inspire respect amongst the
peoples,
'And in our day when a monarch is consecrated . , . the church offers up
this prayer: "May the glorious dignity and the majesty of the palace blaze
out, for all to see, the splendid grandeur of the royal power so that, as a
stroke oflightning, it sheds hght in every direction".
'All these words are chosen to describe the magnificence ofa royal court
which is asked of God as a necessary support to royalty'
[70]
}^
Such a doctrine does not, of course, imply the choice of any particular
form of art, since effects of grandeur and luxury can be combined with a
strict adherence to classical and rational canons or can, on the other hand,
fmd expression in the fantasy ofthe Baroque. Certainly such an outspoken
desire for the magnificent and astonishing must have encouraged the latter
solution. Bossuet and the Coronation Service call not upon any Greek
ideal but rather upon oriental splendour, reminiscent of Solomon in all his
glory, to support the monarchy.
The spirit of the Baroque has many and striking affinities with the out-
look of the peasantry, the monarchy, and with the greater part of the
European population. There remained, however, the powerful and varied
world of the nobility,^'* whose relations with peasant and sovereign alike
were always sliifting and sometimes contradictory. We have already seen
how during the sixteenth century the relationship ofthe nobles and newly
ennobled bourgeoisie with rural hfe had undergone a change. It is certain
that where a noble Hved on his estates, the land was not considered merely
as a source of revenue, wliich might yield a higher income if wisely run,
but also as a symbol ofthe continuity of the family: the word 'fortune' in
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
78 such circumstances expressed the idea ofcalling as well as wealth. Bounded
as he might be by smaller horizons, the nobleman's attitude was not unlike
that of a king to his country. A bond was formed between the landlord
and his demesne which became as much a moral obhgation as an economic
factor. The seigneur exercised his rights in the manner of a king or of a
father. He governed, judged and administered; sometimes he found him-
self called on to lead an army. There were petty princelings who levied
dues over territories as extensive as a French province. The vassalage which
bound other lords to him, and the men who were subordinate to liim by
paying quit-rent and other sorts ofrent in varying degrees, or by rendering
feudal service in kind or in money, reproduced on a small scale the hier-
archy of the material world as well as the obedience which the humblest
subject rendered to the king.
When the Due de la Rochefoucauld led a troop of fifteen hundred
gentlemen-at-arms to help Louis XIII in the siege ofLa RocheUe, he pre-
sented them to the king in these words: 'Sire, there is none here but is my
kin.' It was a gesture and a speech that clearly shows how closely the
authority wielded by the lord resembled that of royalty itself. When
Montmorency raised the whole ofLanguedoc against the king, it was due
to liis authority as a prince (though no doubt feudaHsm stiU played a
part) which, as far as it extended, was the same as the power exercised by
the king in the whole kingdom. Those who followed the rebel did not
look so far afield as to consider the rights of the State or the principles
at stake: they were obeying their local king. When the Cardinal de Retz
escaped from prison at Nantes and found that he could not reach Paris
because of his broken shoulder, he raised an escort of three hundred men
from his paternal territory. With them he took the road from Retzthe
county from which he derived his nameand passed by the sentries
guarding the bridge of Pirmil without fear, like a local king who, in his
own land and surrounded by his own people, has no reason to dread the
power of any other far-distant king.
One could quote many examples. In these particular cases and in the
pohtical field as a whole, there is no question that the king and the aris-
tocracy were on opposite sides. It was an open conflict where one could
only gain by inflicting defeat on the other. In short, there were two kings:
one Httle, the other great, one feeble, the other strongand they had to
fight each other. It is true that the great king in many respectsboth
juristic and pohticalwas able to call upon resources so rich that the pro-
vincial potentate had no idea of their existence. There is another factor
we must take into account. This seemingly royal power enjoyed by the
great nobles was only conceivable in their hereditary lands or where they
had firmly estabhshed their hold. Once that noble was transported to
court or into the army, or if he were sent to head an embassy abroad, the
only greatness left him was ex
officio
and but a reflection of that of his
master, the king. As a courtier or as a soldier he moved in an atmosphere
ofpomp and fine romanticism and it was only possible that now and again
79
he might distinguish himself by some individual bravery or show.-^^ But
at home, in his own territory, the power of a great nobleman carmot be
computed solely by the honours that were rendered him wiUingly or per-
force at his castle or in the local church, or by acknowledging the venerable
authority which surrounded him as representative of his communityall
these find expression in many aspects of Baroque civilization, both in
France and other countries. But that is to overlook the role lie played as
local king, which was one that influenced every contact between noble and
peasant.
There are arguments galore to present this as an example of class war-
fare, and to point out how the dues demanded by the noble stripped the
peasant bare, while the restrictions of free movement and action suffered
by a serf hindered any economic progress and was the greatest curse
throughout most of Europe. The various rebellions seem, undeniably, to
support this theory. There is, however, another side to the question. Those
nobles who took their social position seriously were, though certainly not
peasants or rural folk, nevertheless landholders, and this was a fact of great
significance. The land which was theirs should redound to their glory. On
it they built mansions where, depending upon circumstances, education or
taste, they might indulge in the refined enjoyment of art or in ruder
pleasures; but above all, there was sure to be a hberal table, a well-stocked
cellar, and a fire on the hearth to welcome the huntsmen after the chase.
The village church was at the same time the family chapel and it seemed
that, quite apart from any metaphysical principles or theological dogmas,
the god who dwelt there might well be some distant relation who kept a
kindly eye on them.
The ideas which a noble entertained about hfe certainly led to an emo-
tional rather than a rational outlook, and one which was tinged with
Baroque feelings. There were many occasions when the aristocracy found
themselves at one with the peasantsa people whom they found ahen,
servile, but at the same time of a kindred spirit, for their way of thinking
and feeling was not unhke their own. Changing circumstances and the
growing tension of confhcting interests stretched this pattern of a land-
owning society to breaking point. In spite of this the simple exchange of
services
protection repaid by trust and loyaltykept the system ahve.

As in everything, one can fmd a formula to justify or excuse, or one to
condemn, or one might sum it up that on one side there was harsh power
and arrogance, while the other was resigned to rendering their services.
Perhaps it was so, but whether one praises or blames the system, it had a
distinctly Baroque flavour.
Even before the seventeenth century the difference between the outlook
and way of hfe of countrymen and tov^msfolk had become so great that it
seemed inevitable that what one favoured was precisely what the other
G
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
80 detested. If the peasants and nobles felt the attraction of the Baroque, one
might expect the bourgeoisie to have quite different ideas. Yet there are
many cities in Europe that are, above all. Baroque. Prague, for instance,
v^hich we shall consider later, Vienna, or, in the south of Italy, Lecce.
Then, amongst others, Genoa and Verona are for the most part Baroque
towns and if Venice, which shows such a multiphcity of masterpieces in
every style, cannot be included, one cannot forget that it is the Salute
a
Baroque church of great originahty bmlt in the second half of the seven-
teenth centurythat dominates the entrance to the Grand Canal.
The character ofa town is built up from so many different elements that
it is unwise to attempt any generaHzation. What significance, for instance,
should be attached to the building of a Baroque palace by a family which
only used it when the Diet or ParHament was sitting and otherwise spent
its hfe on its country estates; It bore no relation to the erection of a
whole lot of buildings, which served some useful purpose demanded by
the majority of the citizens. It goes Mdthout saying that, because of their
religious feelings, Cathohc countries welcomed the Baroque style, since it
was reminiscent ofRome and the Counter-Reformation, just as the Protes-
tant countries (such as England and above all the Netherlands) tended to
discard any Roman influence; they were also the very countries where a
rich middle class, led by magnates in shipping, banking or commerce,
dominated the scene. With the exception of the Flemish provinces, which
remained under Spanish and Cathohc influence, Europe was sphtting in
two: in the north the growth and importance of the towns take on a
significance which was unknown in Central Europe, where a rural pattern
with its great landowners remained still predominant. One should never-
theless examine once more the part that the bourgeoisie, even the Cathohc
middle classes, played when it came to the question ofaccepting or reject-
ing the Baroque.
One would expect that such a class, intent on making its way, hard-
working and ambitious, trained in the hard school of practical affairs or
the study of the law, would have retained a reahstic outlook; perhaps it
was too much given over to logic, rationahsm and practicahties to take any
pleasure in the fantasies produced by this exuberant and imaginative style.
But middle class society was too varied and changing to have its taste and
tendencies pinned down with a single defmition.^^ It was precisely in this
class that one finds the most rare and mystical souls, the most altruistic
spirits, and people who were prepared to sacrifice all in their fight for
spiritual values. It might be thought that all this tended towards austerity,
and therefore even farther away from any appreciation of the Baroque.
There were other emotional trends, however, which led the bourgeoisie
to like it. They showed, especially in France, a certain truculence; slapstick
comedy made them laugh, and the heartier the joke the better they were
amused. In the middle of the century, burlesque may have been added to
badinage in French hterature without offence to good taste, but when it
was taken up 'by the coarse hands of the Pont-Neufhacks'^*ând had an
enormous successone reahzcs that it pandered to a very strong pubHc
taste. The pubHc also Hked something spectacular.^^ This was not confined
to any one nation, and had Httle to do with national habits: shows were as
popular in the frozen North as they were in the South. It was a taste fos-
tered by the conditions of the age, when there was scarcely any travel and
where people usually led an uncomfortable life at home, cramped both for
hght and space. It was only a very tiny majority that dared undertake those
great voyages which were to exert an increasing influence on the contem-
porary economic structure of Europe and ended by destroying it. As
Lucien Febvre says, 'These men were few but what they lacked in num-
bers they made up in mobility.'^^ But the great majority were stay-at-
homes, and even in a town had to search hard for any amusement. That
explains why, in spite ofthe dust (or mud), so much time was spent in the
streets, where there was always a chance of something happening, some-
thing to look at. The Flemish were dehghted by the grotesque carnival
processions of gigantic figures, the Parisians loved the mountebanks, jug-
glers and sellers of quack medicine of the Pont-Neuf, and the Romans
enjoyed horse races (which incidentally, gave the Corso its name) or mock
naval battles in the Piazza Navona, which would be specially flooded for
the occasion. Even nowadays Hterary critics blame this love of the spec-
tacular and all the emotions it aroused for the tardy recognition given to
the more austere forms ofdrama which attempted some verisimflitude and
tried to keep to the unities laid down by Aristotle.
The residence of the king in the capital, of course, gave rise to in-
numerable spectacles which the citizens could enjoy, from the festivities
surrounding his birth to the obsequies when he died: there were the state
entries, royal marriages, the birth and baptisms of the royal children, the
state receptions given to distinguished foreigners, and pubHc thanksgiv-
ings. The large sums disbursed oflficially on public occasions often con-
trasted sharply with the stringent economy which individuals were forced
to practise, but it would be unwise to try to trace any very close connec-
tion between the cost ofhving or the fluctuation ofprices and the amounts
of money spent on festivities.
Certainly periods of great poverty put a stop to extravagant spending;
yet labour itselfwas cheap enough and the fees paid to the artists and tech-
nicians were so very moderate that a good show could be put on at no
very great cost. The demand for something spectacular was so widespread
and the pleasure everyone got out of the day's festivities wâs so whole-
hearted, that the question of bills which would have to be paid today or
tomorrow did not worry anybody unduly. So, when some occasion arose
that called for a pubhc celebration and the expense might be quite con-
siderable, there were few people really worried about what exactly it was
going to cost. The Salute was built immediately after an epidemic that had
ruined Venice economically. A study ofvotive churches wôuld well illus-
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
82 trate this point. Intrinsically they had to be magnificent and sumptuous,
for no expense must be spared when it was a question of giving praise to
the Virginor some saintwho had interceded for them in their misfor-
tune. It would prove that, at least in most cases, the desire to make some
grandiose gesture ofhomage overruled any other consideration, even if it
had been more sensible to use the funds available for more material and
often urgent needs. Such disinterested gestures, in any society permeated
with rehgion, played an essential part.
There was, then, no insuperable barrier between the bourgeois way of
hfe and the ostentation which was a characteristic ofBaroque art. But it is
equally true that it was never welcomed by them nor particularly en-
couraged, even when the middle classes spread out into rural districts.
Many reasons could be found to explain this general tendency. Urban
economy and, strll more, individual financial transactions were very com-
plex. What, for example, could you do if you had earned some money?
How would you invest it? There was no organized system of credit, and
loans were made to relations or neighbours, offices perhaps had to be
bought, or money paid out for becoming a master of one's craft, family
interests must be forwarded, or perhaps an artisan's workshop subsidized,
or a pension secured. Savings might be dispensed in driblets but only a
very great occasion could call for a spending spree.
One of the reasons which led the middle classes, at least in France, to
prefer a style more restrained than the Baroque was the education which
they were given. Side by side with the businessman and the small trades-
man, whom one might call the majority of the middle classes, there grew
up an intellectual elite which became increasingly aloof and increasingly
austere in its way of thinking. In the middle of the seventeenth century
two trends should be noticed: a new clarity of expression in writing, and
a more widespread knowledge of mathematics.
The Hking of the Jesuits for the Baroque style had by now become
estabUshed. Above all the colleges of the Jesuits, as they gained ground
amongst the bourgeoisie, played an important part in the change of taste.
They were indeed pioneers, though not the only ones. Richeheu, in the
plan he formed as early as 1625 and wliich is summarized in his Testament
politique records his mistrust of any body which wished to monopoHze
teaching. He thought it better 'that the Universities and the Jesuits teach
in competition with each other and the sciences would have a more assured
place in the State through having two guardians, so that if one were to lose
so sacred a deposit, it might be found with the other'.
^^
This spirit of competition which he desired, but did not further by any
practical measures, nevertheless gave the Oratorians and the Little Schools
ofPort Royal a chance to come to the fore. Though these had fewer pupils,
the method of teaching was most effectual. On the whole, thanks to
childhood training, a logical outlook was formed that the middle classes
welcomed, especially as they recognized its use in their own particular
spheres. In a land where the bourgeoisieand especially the civil servant
83
were protected by the whole political system and by the economic condi-
tions, the sense of moderation which had been instilled by their education
counterbalanced the mythological, the imaginative or the fantastic. Of
course, at a higher level, that of the ehte who were used to indulging in
speculation, the Cartesian movement had a profound influence. But this
influence itself drew much of its strength from the general feeling of
opinion and it would be unjust to forget that the French seminaries had,
in a few generations, turned out a clergy which was highly educated, well
up in the classics, and capable of dealing with parochial duties which
would naturally bring it into contact with bourgeois circles.
There is no doubt that during the seventeenth century the French bour-
geoisie had made great progress and had formed a solid group in society
which, both in numbers and quality, was not equalled in many European
countries. Their serious turn of mind made them sympathetic to Jansen-
ism. Not that the nobles were indifferent to it, for rehgious souls who were
capable of such thought met irrespective of social barriers. But if one is
interested in problems raised by questions of Grace, of a subtlety not
covered by the straightforward and concrete answers of the catechism or
Divine Service, it is obvious that one must have a thorough knowledge of
theology and a familiarity with theological ideas which could only be
possessed by the educated classes.
Neither Augustinus nor even Frequente Communion were works easily
come by or upon which one would lightly embark. The connection be-
tweenJansenism and legal circles has been explained by historians in many
and very differing ways, but it is clear that it was an urban movement. If
the Jansenists retired to country solitude, even if they took to farm work,
when they left the town they made certain of taking their libraries wdth
them and still remained displaced town-dwellers. Essentially, Jansenism
said that the search for God was by austere paths
[67].
Sainte-Beuve, in a
page of Port-Royal, quotes a whole series of witnesses to show how un-
reasonable theJansenists could be in this matter. M. Hamon was apprehen-
sive lest, in a beautiful church, attention might be distracted from pure
piety. As he remarked to Mother Angelica on the shocking proportions of
a building, she said, 'How much I like that, for if one is not in the least
poor, one spends the least possible on show and the semblance ofpoverty
is pleasing.'
M. de Saint Cyran had gone so far as to say 'There is more devotion in
Hstening to Mass said by a shabby priest or one of bad reputation than to
one who celebrates Mass with beautiful ornaments on a perfectly arranged
altar, or is renowned for his virtue; for in one case all one's faith is occupied
by satisfying the senses; in the other case the senses are engaged but often
the personahty of the priest plays the least part.'^^
The pleasures ofart could not be denounced as a guilty indulgence more
absolutely, nor could the assistance which it offers to rehgious Hfe be more
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
84
Strongly condemned. This could not be more exactly opposed to the
feeling of the Baroque. But the Jansenists were not alone in thinking this.
Other devout circles never gave up the first austerities of the Counter-
Reformation.
They covered up nudes; they wêre perpetually condemning plays and
interfering wîth the theatres. They considered profane shoves to be a con-
stant peril to the emotions and imagination. What a point in common
between people who otherwise understood each other so badly
-Jansenists
and the devout found themselves agreeing with the Protestants, who by
now were again a numerous and powerful force in urban France, especially
in the towns south of the Loire. A large percentage of the French bour-
geoisie in the seventeenth century became more intransigent than ever
and would have nothing to do either with Spanish exaltation or with
Itahan exuberance.
One must recall all these various trends: Europe in great part destroyed
by war, impoverished in man power, the old agricultural background
taking on a new pattern on the great estates, but a Europe where com-
mercial wealth was becoming more fluid and favouring the rise of the
middle classes, a Europe where the monarchical system seemed para-
mount, with the sovereign gaining in prestige and the State increasing its
power. But what a varied picture we get through the superabundance of
conflicting and interwoven interests. What single form or mode of ex-
pression would become dominant?
The solution offered by Italy was a sumptuous art, and a subtle concep-
tion of beauty was able to respond both to the rituaHstic rehgion such as
was then practised in Rome and to a hierarchic society where authority
was surrounded by pomp. It is understandable that this was pleasing to
Cathohc countries and to those accepting a monarchial regime, above all
in Spain. Though one would expect it to need a foundation of riches, on
the contrary we fmd it spreading through impoverished and poorly in-
habited countries where the people welcomed and maintained it because
they felt its marvellous glamour and charm. Thus the Baroque was bom
in Central Europe, where it bore fruit in charming works. Russia was to
produce her own hybrid strain. But still Itahan prestige was universally
recognized. Yet all this was ineffectual when it came to grafting tliis civihz-
ation on to the rich middle-class communities in the north. It was not
only because there the Protestant tradition was stiU powerful; the spirit of
the middle classes sought other values than those ofimagination and senti-
ment. It was more reahstic and more restrained. Thus, in a country such as
France where at the same time you found Cathohcism, monarchy, great
landowners and an agricultural world but also a large middle class and a
powerful Protestant minority, the solution could not be simple.
France, though she wished to learn from Italy, was not going to take
anything over wholesale without taking into account her national tradi-
tions or the new objections wliich several large social groups had raised in
Opposition to the Baroque taste. Neither royal patronage, nor the fact that 85
most of the people were Cathohc meant that the Italian idiom would
inevitably be adopted.
That is why the choice of France in literary and artistic taste towards the
middle ofthe seventeenth century takes on an essential importance for the
history of civilization. One might say that France had as many reasons to
accept as to reject the Baroque and it was this very balance that made her
choice so difficult. To a very large extent the future of Baroque would be
dependent upon the choice that France made, for France then was in full
ascendancy. In spite of all her weaknesses and difficulties, her resources
and, a much more important factor, her density ofpopulation were making
her the first nation in the world. Her government, moreover, could now
command the whole nation in pursuance of its pohcies. She had attained
a position which ensured that her ideas would spread throughout Europe.
She had taken the lead from Italy; she had created a civilized state very
much earher than the ItaHans, and was assured of an expanding economy.
She had now become so rich in artists and writers that she was looked on
as the model for other countries. Now we must look at what France chose
to do, how she did it, and why.
CHAPTER V
J^rance
between baroque
and Qlassicism
Richelieu had raised France's prestige abroad. He had also estabhshed
order at home, which was a first necessity for employment and economic
progress. But in order to carry on foreign wars, the Cardinal had de-
manded a great deal from the nation. He had used force to smash all
opposition to remain in power, and the whole ofFrance had bowed before
his implacable despotism. But she still remained a hving society, made up
ofdiverse groups which all maintained their own individuahty, either from
provincialism or particularism. Nor was it possible to make her accept
any one style in either arts or letters. For a long time critics saw only one
aspect of French Hterature in the time of RicheHeuthat it ushered in
Classicism. They thought that the Cardinal, by founding the Academic
Franâise, had surely estabhshed an institution which could lay down rules
and judge the value of works. Nowadays this interpretation has been re-
vised. Works quite ahen to the classical spirit have been brought to hght
love poems and lyrics, tragi-comedies, farces, pastoral romances or picar-

esque novelswhich still move us and arouse our admiration.^
One wonders if, for once, this is a case of Baroque preceding Classicism
instead of following it. But really this Baroque is a break away from the
earher classical tradition of humanism and the Pleiade. It is influenced by
the affected and erudite style ofItaly and Spain. Figures in Itahan Hterature
from Orlando Furioso or Gerusalemme Liheratawere known to every
cultured person. And alongside these great works there were the precious
poetry of Marino and the forty-five thousand stanzas of Adone. One can
perhaps trace the same dehcacy of grace and enchantment in the French
works. Besides that, most French writers in the first halfofthe seventeenth
century knew Italy and many of them had hved there.
In architecture and painting, tastes and tendencies jostle each other. The
vigour of Gotliic is not quenched. The Fontainebleau Renaissance (and
even a second Fontainebleau Renaissance which flourished under Henri IV
and was inspired by the Italian Mannerists) and the classical Renaissance of
Lescot were aU still influential. The works created in Richeheu's time were
65
Simon Vouct's portrait ot Louis XIII of France, one oi the founders of modem
monarchy and supporter of the Counter-Reformation
LesMiscrcs dc la Guerre engraved by Jacques Callot was a series of scenes from
the Thirty Years' War, which plunged Germany into cêsolation and after which
Baroque art developed only in a part of the Empire
?z. ju^ cell diL niimde et c,:nnlmn di' hazart
fcutnt]afujin_lej- enfanr Ju
T
hen jUarr
itV fTU lur i-rt Jiret mscfsrr.s r.i i ^'mc U
tUfautres/en. votit du Qmp a Z,Help
This figure of La Mere Angelique,
by Philippe de Champaigne, inter-
preted with simple grandeur, could
serve as a symbol of the Jansenism
which helped to lead French taste
back towards logic and simplicity
67
One should not look for the origins
of Baroque art among the masses,
but The Peasant's Meal, by Louis le
Nain, shows a type ot sensitivity
which awoke a lasting response
among them
68
h
A
V>
Cardinal Richelieu, by Philippe de Champaigne, is a fine classical portrait reminis-
cent of Titian and Rubens, which vividly brings back to Ufe the authorit\- and
power ofthe Cardinal
70
Bossuct recalled that, at the Coronation of Louis XIV in Rhcims Cathedral, the
Church asked God to cause the splendour of the court to fill all who beheld it
with awe
FRANCE BETWEEN BAROQUE AND CLASSICISM
beautiful but eclectic. France was then a crossroads where influences from 87
many parts of Europe met.
The Flemish artists were much sought after and formed their own
colony in Paris; the artists from Lorraine, who had been inspired by
Caravaggio or the Italian Mannerists, were also in favour. Rubens decora-
ted the Luxembourg gallery with an opulent and mythological paean to
monarchy. Vouet, who was First Painter to the King, was Baroque, and
had spent his formative years in Italy. Poussin was recalled from Rome by
Louis XIII, and considering the French circles in which he moved it must
have needed superhuman courage to turn away from that brilliant style he
could so easily master to give his work that quiet and harmony which
make him the master of classical painting. Lemercier, architect to Riche-
Heu, and later Mansard, drew inspiration from Rome for their beautiful
domed churchesat the Sorbonne, in its austerity, and at Val-de-Grace in
its richness and freedom.
It seems that in Richelieu's entourage a group of people. Sublet de
Noyers and his friends the Frearts, believed in rules and regulations. They
fought and they thought they had won a battle to impose a regular style
upon the desire for a more ornate taste, which still remained popular, as
well as upon the pleasures ofinvention to which even so erudite an archi-
tect as P. Derand (who designed the facade of St Paul and St Louis)
succumbed.^ But none ofthese tendencies had carried the day and became
dominant, when the Cardinal died.
Mazarin, who succeeded him in power, made every endeavour to woo
pubhc opinion, and he thought that to do so life in Paris should be made
gay and briUiant, and the capital amused. He himself was used to the
Itahan crowds, who derived such pleasure from festas that the whole
tOMTi would turn out to enjoy a parade of carriages, or a cavalcade, a
tourney or a display of fireworks, or festivities to welcome some distin-
guished visitor.^ Ofcourse the French and other nations had their joustings
and fairs, but these were simple and barbarous affairs compared to the
contrivances of the Italians. For a long time they had been pastmasters in
the art and had built up a veritable science to devise machines that could
produce wonderful theatrical effects.*
Engineers who were engaged on siege work, raising waters or leveUing
hills, sought after and found all sorts of apparatus which could supersede
the ordinary labourer. By the use of cranks it was extraordinary how
quickly scenes could be changed and how much could be done simultane-
ously. Some of them wrote dov^ni their discoveries. There was, for in-
stance, Valturio de Rimini, whose Book
of
Machines was pubhshed first in
1472 and reprinted in Venice, Verona, Bologna and even in Paris.
It is known that Leonardo da Vinci showed an absolute passion for
machines and worked incessantly inventing new ones which should, solely
by the use of their elements, enable men to ascend into the air or descend
into the water. It has even been asked whether he was searching to give
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
man the mastery of the universe or whether he was really only worrying
about fresh devices to give the ItaHans new effects of surprise and illusion
for their festas.^ At a time when technical activities were not speciahzed
we find an Itahan beiag at the same time a war engineer, clock maker,
decorator, artisan and architect. The number of these technicians was so
great and their fame so widespread that one finds them employed at all the
Itahan courts, from Naples to Venice, and foreign monarchs, even from
Russia, sought their services. They spread abroad that taste for elaborate
theatrical shows with transformation scenes. Instead ofthe usual backcloth
and ordinary decorations (which needed a good deal ofwilling co-opera-
tion from the audience to give any sense of illusion), there were perspec-
tives ofsuch ingenuity that the illusion ofdepth was absolutely perfect and
people moved and flew through the air without anyone being able to
guess how it was done. Quite apart from the courts and the aristocratic
circles of Florence, Rome, Parma and Modena, the ordinary people, es-
pecially the Venetians, were great connoisseurs of these shows. Music
added to the effect, and the Itahans liked their music hvely and colourful,
large and varied orchestras, where each instrument kept its individuahty,
a rapid rhythm, and they liked above all the high voices of the sopranos,
whose songs had httle to do with the words but became veritable tours
deforce. All this created a disturbing pleasure that really transported one
to another world. However clever and subtle the tricks of production
were, the result was enchantment and people of every social class could
fmd their artistic feelings aroused and satisfied. The Itahan /c5to, Itahan
music, and the Itahan theatre became, in a way, occasions of public re-
joicing. The pleasures of other nations were clumsy and heavy jokes by
comparison.
Mazarin, a great lover of the Itahan theatre, wanted to ensure its success
in Paris. For over half a century things Itahan had been aU the rage in
society, which knew well enough the pleasures to be found in Italy. But
the Cardinal wished to give the common people a chance to witness what
they only knew ofby hearsay and could scarcely imagine. The first choice
was a piece a machines, the Fiiita Pazza which had been played in Venice in
1641.^ Giulio Strozzi had written the text, and Sacrati had composed the
music
[73].
It was not an opera, nor a comedy with music, but rather a
theatrical fete where the transformations of scenery and the ballets played
as important a part as the text or score. The theme was taken from the
legend of Achilles, when, disguised as a woman, he tries to flee to escape
marrying Deidamis whomhe has seduced, but she pretends to be mad
(finta
pazza) and ends by softening his heart. The chief value of the theme was
the opportunities it gave for song and dance, and the sudden surprising
changes of scenery. The Queen had begged the Duke of Parma for stage
technicians, musicians and singers and he sent the best technician that was
to be found in Italy, Torelh, a very important man already renowned for
his productions in Venice. He was remarkably gifted and was known as a
poet, mathematician, and architect as well as a technician. He adapted the
89
piece to suit the special requirements of the French Court. The little king
was to be present, and Torelli added various scenes which would please a
child ofhis age: dances for monkeys, negroes and eunuchs, and to crown
all, a ballet of ostriches 'which, by an ingenious device, stretched their
necks to drink from a fountain, and a ballet of Indians who put a flock of
parrots to flight'. At one moment the scene was in the port of Sciros on the
island ofCliio, and then, by a bold transformation, one saw at the back the
Pont-Ncuf, with the statue of Henri IV, the houses of the city and the
towers ofNotre Dame. The piece was staged in the Petit-Bourbon theatre,
close by the Louvre, on 14th December 1645. La Gazette praised the in-
genuity of Signor Torelli, 'the admirable changes of scene, hitherto un-
known in France, which enchant the eyes of our imagination no less than
the eyes in our head by their imperceptible movements'. Voiture con-
gratulated Mazarin, 'divine and holy prelate' by whom
. . . desormais, tant de faces changeantes
Sont dessus le theatre et non pas dans I'etat?
(Now changes of scene on the stage replace
The turmoils that used the State to disgrace)
The same year Italian artists who came to Paris created a furore at the
Court: first there was Leonora Baroni, whom evil tongues said was an old
mistress of the Cardinal, but whom the Queen took into favour, and then
there was the castrato Atteo Melani. Society became intoxicated with the
Italian songs and found them the height of perfection. At the time the
poHtical vicissitudes in Rome had, amongst other things, forced the en-
tourage of Urban VIII to flee to France when they fell into disfavour with
Innocent X. First ofall the nephews ofthe late Pope arrived: the Barberini
cardinals and the Prince of Palestrina, who had given many superb shows
in the palace and theatre which had been built by Bernini. France became
the home of three more Italian prelatesBichi, Bonzi and Ondedeito
whom the Queen gave French bishoprics. The Barberini were eager to
encourage the taste for ItaHan fetes, and a few months later, on the 13
th
February
1646, die Egisto, an opera a soli by CavaUi, was given in the hall
of the Palais-Royal. This hall with its golden balustrade, built by Riche-
Heu's order, was the most beautiful in Paris. For the performance the
Queen Regent and Mazarin invited the exiled Enghsh Queen Henrietta,
Prince Thomas of Savoy and Cardinal Antonio Barberini. It was the
Cardinal who persuaded them to go even further and plan a full scale
ItaHan grand opera for the following winter.
Orfeo by Luigi Rossi \vith a
text by Abbe Buti was chosen and again Italy was asked to send castrati
and musicians; all the stars who were famous in Florence or Rome were
given leave to ô to France for the Queen. The first performance took
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
90
place at the Palais-Royal on 2ncl March 1647. The rehearsals and prepara-
tions had taken so long that it was not until the Saturday evening before
Quinquagesima that everything was ready; and Lent was just about to
begin. Nevertheless the crowd was so great that some could not find seats
and others had to give up the precedence which protocol accorded them
to get in at all. The Queen, who wished to take Holy Communion the
next morning, did not stay till the end, but she was so pleased with the
opera that she paid a second visit on the Sunday evening.
There were many reasons why this opera of Rossi's was popular. The
arias, apart from the orchestra, expressed every nuance of the characters
and the ear was enchanted by the voice ofthe sopranos, but it was the rich-
ness of the Itahan music which added an emotional touch to every situa-
tion, and underlined every phrase. A whole new artistic world was re-
vealed. The love of Orpheus and Eurydice was also a subject which gave
superb opportunities for transformations ofsceneryespecially in the third
act when Orpheus descends into Hades and comes back into the Scythian
desert. Animals were spellbound by his music and even the trees danced.
Then, at the end, one saw his lyre ascend to heaven where it became a
constellation and expanded into the fleur-de-lys of France. The opera
satisfied and to some degree increased the public taste for imaginative and
fantastic works, especially amongst the aristocrats. Yet Orfeo was not re-
ceived without reservations. The difficulties of language and the involved
plot were the least of these, and were got over by printing a brief resume
for the audience. It was the beginning of a custom that lasted throughout
the century and whenever there was a comphcated plot or decorations
that were full ofallusions or too symbolic to be readily understood by the
average theatre-goer, the difficulty was easily overcome by supplying a
programme text.
Much more important was the fact that certain Parisians felt most un-
easy because these shows might lead to a tolerance of sensuosity, of the
improbable, or ofthe dangerous and alluring fantasies which seemed to be
an essential part ofthese new shows. With them it did not count for much
that the opera enjoyed the patronage of cardinalsone, at least, who was
not even a priest. The CathoHc Reformation in France had intensified the
concept of sin, and even more strongly, that of temptation. It would be
wrong to talk ofhypocrisy or mere prudery. It was something much more
deeply rooted, a Christian feeling ofausterity that was shared by Cathohcs
and Protestants and also by many who were neither particularly pious nor
zealous, but who were strongly convinced that hfe was earnest. They were
worried about the Queen's behaviour, because they thought it might
affect the whole welfare of the nation. The Queen was a widow. And
widowhood, at that time had something sacramental about it, which was
emphasized in the widows' weeds which were worn. The Queen was pious
and furthered good works. She was forty-five years oldwhich in that
age was to be oldbut both her charm and her rank made her still attrac-
tive, and exposed her, more than anyone else, to certain risks. It was feared 91
that if she indulged in these shows whose power to arouse the emotions
was so suspect, she might be carried away and give cause for scandal. On
top of that, the country was at war, and the burden of taxes grew every
year more crushing.
The poor, both in the towns and the country, were being ground down
to fmd the money. 'The money which I ask is not to play with nor for
idle expenses,' Louis XIII had one day told the Paris Parhament. 'It is not I
who speak, but my State.' It was the language of an austere king. But was
the money which had been demanded in the name of the State to be idly
expended on play-actors and castrati?
Mazarin, in short, politically had failed in his experiment. A few more
months and there would be the Fronde, and the Parisian mob would be
threatening the Itahan artists.
A large section of opinion turned away from these enchantments.
Nevertheless in literary circles the writers were inclined to take up the
romantic, and when they wrote for the theatre sought the help oftransfor-
mation scenes. Corneille was most prolific, and turned out a play a year.
The comedy Le Menteur was followed by the romatic tragedies. The Death
of
Pompey, Rodogune, Heraclius, and Theodore, the storyfar too fuU of
peripetiaofa Christian martyr. A few weeks after Orfeo had been given,
he wrote the tragedy Andromede, taking his subject from Ovid's Metamor-
phoses. He had got in touch with ToreUi and the piece had been written
with the stage-effects of the ItaHan impresario in mind. The play exhibited
almost the exact opposite of the unity of placeor as Corneille himself
explained: the necessity of placing the various participants in various par-
ticular places had made it necessary to expand, a httle more than usual, the
general place which surrounds them and constitutes a unity.
The scenes change before the eyes of the audience. In the first act the
heavens open and (to use Corneille's words) 'let us see in the far distance
the star of Venus which machinery will enable to bring the goddess into
the centre ofthe theatre. She comes forward slowly without the eye being
able to detect how she is suspended'
[76].
Thejasmins and myrtles which,
in the second act, form a wonderful garden, change in the third act to hor-
rific rocks: Perseus on his horse Pegasus prances around to rescue Andro-
meda whom the winds have chained there
[75].
Choruses added their songs
to the recitative. The whole is a very odd work, where Corneille's noble
language and the artifices of ToreUi are united under the spell of a fable.
Indeed the poet admits that his principal aim had been to 'satisfy the eye by
the briUiance and variety of scene and not to move the mind by tlie force
ofreason or the heart by dehcacy ofemotion'. He goes on, 'In this tragedy
the mechanical devices are not a separate ornament: they are so essential
that you cannot take away one without causing the whole structure to
coUapse. Signor ToreUi has himselfsupervised the execution of the designs
and has made admirable inventions to fit them for this purpose.'^ An-
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
92
dromede is much more a tragedy with theatrical devices than, a tragedy by
Comeille, a real collaboration by Comeille and ToreUi. In fact the poet
was paid 2,400 Hvres for his part in it and the ItaHan 12,000. There is httle
use comparing their salaries, however, since ToreUi had to pay the cost of
the machines, and the poet incurred no expenses. The piece was not pre-
sented on the date that had been planned. A protest from the devout,
which was presented to the Queen by St Vincent de Paul, begged her to
postpone the show. It was only performed, though with uncurtailed
luxury, after the first Fronde had begun, in January 1650, the same month
that the Queen, trying to regain power by breaking the league ofprinces,
had ordered the arrest ofConde. In the same way she had hoped in August
1648 to regain power from Parhament. But both of these royal interven-
tions only unleashed civil war.
The war of the Fronde is one ofthe most difficult periods to understand in
French history. There are picturesque and romantic episodes enough:
popular uprisings, barricades, the Court in flight, princes imprisoned and
escaping, battles, the cannon of the Bastille firing on the royal troops, and
princesses of the blood royal or great ladies taking part in the wars as
though they were Amazons born. Every social class had some interest in
this tragic affair and the varying causes are inextricably mixed. The auth-
ority of the king, which was primarily threatened, ended by triumphing,
because no single party managed to propound a pohcy which would rally
the others. Nowadays one can appreciate how great the crisis was. The
absolute power, which had been built up by Richeheu and continued by
Mazarin, was in jeopardy both from the attacks from Parhament and
officials; but the principle too was opposed by many privileged groups
who defended their traditional rights and hberties. It was the provincial
administrators who aroused the greatest bitterness among aU those officials
who refused to admit as their superiors people who came, armed only with
the authority of a commission (but otherwise holding no office), to intro-
duce an entirely new and untraditional element into the administration of
the kingdom. It might seem that the Fronde of the Parhament and still
more that of the people, who rebelled against excessive taxation, was an
expression of the ancient national spirit ofindependence and hberty when
faced with a government which did more to enrich war profiteers and
financiers than the country as a whole. But much more was at stake for the
State and for France. In spite ofaU the blunders and injustices ofthe means
employedand it was impossible during a war and under a regency to
make any radical reformsif the royal power could not regain control,
there was no alternative but to shther into anarchy and chaos. And who
would gain? The grandees, who might combine to fight a minister, were
at daggers drawn amongst themselves, and their followers would be
dragged into their internecine wars. Perhaps there would be some ad-
vantage to the provincial legal and financial officials who then formed a
local aristocracy, but they were authoritarian, obstinate and with no
93
breadth of vision. Above all, Spain would have welcomed and profited
most from widespread troubles in France. At the time people referred to
'The Unruhness' {dereglemcnt), and this is significant, because indeed every
ruleofbehaviour, honour, loyalty to the king, ofresponsibility ofoffice,
or of feudal obhgationsseemed to be called in question.
It is quite clear that there was a connection between these events, the
general temper ofthe times, and the hesitancies oftaste which were appar-
ent both in literature and art during these years. Not that the political
factions were reflected in any particular manner. The romanticism and
violence of the Frondeurs did not incline them to the Baroque, nor were
the classicists aU for the restoration of royal authority. That would give
quite a wrong impression, for the taste for Italian Baroque was rampant in
court circles, and many who favoured the rule oflaw were to be found in
the entourage of the Prince of Conde. But the ups and downs of the
struggle, the perpetual denouncing or renewal of alliances, when bitter
foes might overnight become reconciled, all created an unreal atmosphere
where anything imaginable might happen. The success ofthe novels of Cal-
prenede and Madame de Scudery, so different in many ways, showed that
the fevered imaginations of the authors, expounded page after thousand
pages, answered some restless romantic longing of the people. One could
say the same about the taste for heroes and their prowess, or the complex
refinements which were in such contrast with the crudities of behaviour
engendered by the wars.
In certain literary coteriesthose of Montmort, the Abbe de Marolles,
the Abbe d'Aubignac, Menage, or Furetierethe taste for Cartesian
thought was growing during these years, together with an interest in
science and a preference for lucidity and order in writing. The number of
educated people who were capable of putting this into practice had in-
creased in France over two generations, and a pubhc sufficiently informed
to take sides in Hterary quarrels or the quarrel of the styles had grown up.
After the Fronde, life once more became normal in Paris and the minis-
ter, who had been so much reviled, was welcomed back with new trust.
The court was torn between two tendencies. The misery in the city and
its surroundings was widespread and the Queen, both as sovereign and
Christian, was much taken up in trying to alleviate it. Largely through the
activities of St Vincent dc Paul, this became the epoch ofcharitable works.
But pubHc misery did not hinder people enjoying themselves again. The
young king was growing up and just at an age to appreciate entertain-
ments. The old court ballets were brought back into favour and made an
excuse for using all the new theatrical devices. In
1655 they played The
Nuptials
of
Thetis and Peleus, which was a clever combination ofopera and
ballet with music by Carlo CaproU and text by the Abbe Buti.^ One could
see the characters ride down from the heavens on clouds, the background
changed, palaces appeared. In the prologue a mountain moves forward,
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
94
and from it descended young noblemen in silken costumes and plumed
wigsamongst them Louis XIV himself, who played the part of ApoUo.
The young king was also passionately fond of Itahan music, although he
always kept a Frenchman, Jean de Cambefort, as Master of the Household
Music. He enjoyed this hfe of fetes and shows; and one wonders if, with
the young king enjoying himself and the Queen Mother busy with pious
works, the Cardinal had achieved his wish, for he was the only one who
really wielded power.
Tuesday 26th August 1660 was a superb day in Paris. The summer sun-
shine shone briUiantly on a city decorated with triumphal arches for the
state entrance of the King and Queen. Thanks to the victories of the army
and the diplomacy of the Cardinal, peace was estabhshed throughout
Europe. France and Spain were reconciled. By the Treaty ofthe Pyrenees,
PhiUp IV had ceded to Louis XIV Artois and Roussillon, two provinces
which rounded off the kingdom and secured its frontiers. He had also
offered the hand of the eldest infanta in marriage. In the north the wars
that had been dragging on between Sweden and Poland, Brandenburg
and Denmark had been halted by the Treaty of Ohva on 3rd May 1660,
and that of Copenhagen on 4th June.
France had been the mediator.
If one remembers also that Charles II had been restored to the Enghsh
throne, and was closely related to the French king and was his ally, one can
understand the happiness which was felt throughout Europe; it was one of
those respites when people really can have faith in the future: no more
wars, civil or foreign, and calm on every front. Peace, and that profound
love which everyone pretended to beheve was the reason of the royal
marriage (diplomatic though it might be), were the two themes chosen
for the festivities of the city ofParis. For it was Paris that was welcoming
the royal pair, that was paying for everything, choosing the decorations
and showing its dehght by the vast crowds, crammed in every window,
jamming the streets and the bridges. Paris was truly expressing what was
felt all over France, and the quantities ofmen and women who had flocked
in from the provinces made this evident. The town council could also feel
proud of having got everything ready in time, since the government
and the Court were both behindhand. In spite of all the efforts of Colbert,
the theatre which was being builtjointly by Le Vau and the Italian decora-
tor Vigarani in the Tuileries was still not ready and it was impossible to put
on the opera Xerxes by the most famous Venetian composer, CavaUi.
In May the city had made a contract with the sculptor Regnaudin for
statues 'in the best selected stone from Troussy and Saint-Leu', and one
with the master-carpenter, Fleurant le Noir, for a triumphal arch 'of pine
wood and of the Doric order', according to the designs of Melin, painter
to the king. After the entry the arch was to be demohshed and the wood
taken away by le Noir. The way the Parisian artists and artisans finished
their work by a certain day was essential to the hoped-for success. It is cer-
71
Lcmcrcier, Richelieu's architect,
was responsible for the beautiful
Chapel of the Sorbonne. Its dome
and its austere appeal were both
inspired by the churches of Rome
72
Richer and liveher than the Chapel
ofthe Sorbonne is the Chapel of the
Val dc Grace, by Mansart. It was
also inspired by Roman models
Two decors by Torelli for Andromede. Comeille collaborated with Torelli and
the resulting play lent itself to the Itahan stage technicians' scenic effects. Cor-
neille admitted that his chief aim 'was to satisfy the eye with the splendour and
variet)^ of the spectacle, and not to appeal to the mind. . . . This play is intended
only for the eye.'
fnif^t
75
76
Torelli's decor for La Fiiita Pazza, in which he was chiefly useful in providing
subjects for songs, ballets and transformation scenes
Le Vau knew how to combine the appearance of a typical French chateau with
the new demands for both personal comfort and a suitable setting for the
entertainments so fashionable at the time, as he has done at Vaux-le-Vicomte
77
The Triumphal Arch oi' the Faubourg St Antoinc was built for the fete of
August
26, [660. It tried to give the appearance ofstone and was strongly classical
in its appeal. A distant forerunner of tlae Carrousel arch, it claimed to rival 'the
greatest of which the ancient world has left fragments'
78
.:J
The stone Triuinphal Arch ot the Faubourg St Antoiiie was traiistornied trom
an ancient gate restored in the reign of Henri II for the fete of August 26, 1660.
79
LEFT. The Triumphal Arch of the
Fontaine St Gervais represented the
Temple of the Muses for the fete of
August 1660. The number of char-
acters and the lively way they were
depicted made for an extremely
complex design
RIGHT. The Triumphal Arch in the
Place Dauphine was designed by Le
Brun for the fete of August 1660.
This arch was a sumptuous contriv-
ance of unprecedented magnifi-
cence, surpassing all those the pro-
cession had already passed through.
It was demolished after the festival
80
i :>^-î^--"
'/**..-.
^.
.aowiinjjyji \ wii
'Miii i<iiiiii> s-^n
tjf--
'^
81 The Pleasures
of
the Enchanted Isle unfolded their splendours in the gardens of
Versailles from May i, 1664. At the end of the first day (above) there was a
ballet of the Seasons, with exotic animals, and those who took part carried bas-
kets and bowls for the banquet. The third day (below) was set by a lake. On
it can be seen three islands, with a palace on the largest and musicians on the
82 other two
tainly true, as was written at the time that: 'It could only be Paris, and 95
Paris flourisliing as it is today, that is capable of producing enough work-
men and the indefatigable supervision of the civil officers perfectly to
second the intelligence and zeal of Signor Noblet, architect to the king and
overseer of the city buildings,'^
The fete was to start outside the walls of Paris, at a short distance from
Vincennes, in a large square wliich for long afterwards bore the name of
'Place du Trone'.^'^ There a platform had been built, and a dais, where the
King and Queen, attended by the Chancellor of France, were to receive
the homage of various corporations ('corps constitucs'). Since the proces-
sion was expected to last the whole morning, the platform had been joined
up to a neighbouring house by a gangway, so that the King or Queen
might from time to time snatch some rest. The clergy of the parishes of
Paris walked in the procession behind their crosses, chanting the litanies of
the saints. Then came the University of Paris, represented by forty-two
doctors ofmedicine, one hundred and sixteen doctors of theology, and six
doctors ofcanon law, all in their robes and ermine hoods. The guilds were
led by the Merchants, followed by the six 'corps privilegies', the judges of
appeal, members of the Mint, the board of Excise and the ParHament of
Paris. Whenever a group reached the platform, one representative came
forward, and knelt before the King to recite a message of welcome. All
these speeches were, as might be expected, in praise ofpeace and the royal
marriage, yet in spite of their conventionahty one could feel they ex-
pressed a sincere and profound feelingthe poignant longing of the
Parisians for peace, after so many years ofmisery. On such an occasion one
would expect to, and of course did, fmd declarations that His Majesty
would win more great victories and continue in his career as a conquering
hero, but there was a subtle undertone which stressed that, by curbing his
legitimate ambitions and making peace, he had conferred the greatest of
blessings on his people.
The Provost of the University ofParis had to admit with regret that his
guild was no longer, as in the past, the happiest and most powerful of all,
but he stressed that it was still the most zealous in its devotion to the sover-
eign. He added that he found himself incapable of dividing his praises
between the King and the Queen. The same thanks must be offered to
them both, since all Frenchmen owed to them equally 'all worldly goods,
Hfe, leisure, security, peace, and in that one word all was summed up,
nothing more left to be said'.
The Provost of the Guilds spoke even more directly: 'Moreover Sire,
we still do not hide from you the fact that your exploits in war are far less
agreeable to us than your achievements in peacetime. And, if one may
go further without hurting your pride, they are even less to your credit.
Yes, Sire, those who acknowledged the true puissance of your arms,
though nevertheless resisting it, now in peacetime bring you their love,
which cannot be won by force, in true obedience; and those who were
H
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
96
most opposed to the grandeur ofYour Majesty come to offer the greatest
and best love that they have.'
The Civilian Lieutenant of the Paris Law Courts declaimed: 'Posterity
will view with amazement the immense successes which were within your
grasp, when Your Majesty so wisely chose moderation, and preferred the
advantages of peace to the certain conquest of so many provinces.'
Last ofall, the President ofthe Mint suggested that the great love which
the King bore the Queen had led him to make peace, and achieve the
greatest good, while the President of the Excise exclaimed: 'We cannot
thank Your Majesty enough for the two great gifts which you have bes-
towed on the country: the Queen, and Peace.'
It was two o'clock in the afternoon when a new procession, the caval-
cade of the Court, moved on towards the town. The household of
Mazarin, those ofthe King and those ofthe Queen, the horses ofthe Royal
stable, the Chancellory, marched past. Then followed the Chancellor
Seguier, wearing the golden robes of office, a black velvet hat with a gold
tassel, such as we see in the portrait by Le Brun. He rode a white horse.
Four pages and six equerries, dressed in satin and velvet, surrounded him,
and two ofthem held violet parasols ofwatered silk to protect him against
the sun.^^
Then came the musketeers, the Hght-horse, the prevote de Vhotel the
governors, the officers of the crown, and last of all the King himself, his
dress sparkling in the sun. He was followed by several noblemen, his
brother, and the princes of the blood. With them was Conde, who had
now been restored to favour. The King seemed now to be the leader of
that very same nobihty, which, had so short a time ago, beUeved itself
strong enough to venture on a last feudal war. Now they were tamed.
The Queen appeared in an open carriage. Though she was not beautiful,
her youth at least could be admired, and the gentleness of her expression,
and her golden hair. In an account of the day written in light verse by
Pere Gaussart, she is described thus:
Let us watch the Queen go by
So beautiful, so beautiful is she
!
Surely she is a goddess
A Hght shines from her eye
As she passes by.^^
The princes of the House of Lorraine, Guise and Elbeuf, with the
Spanish ambassador, formed her personal escort.
The procession took four hours from the Place du Trone to the Louvre,
going round by the He de la Cite. It passed under triumphal arches which
boasted all that the good taste and artistic resources of the Paris of the
times could produce.
One of the first of the archesthe one constructed by Fleurant le Noir
from a design by Mclinstood in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, close by
97
the abbey of Saint-Antoine-dcs-Champs [77].^^ It was ofwood, though it
looked like stone. Between six Doric columns were three arches whose
vaults had sunken panels decorated with heraldic roses. The columns sup-
ported a frieze and entablature. The metopes of the frieze displayed alter-
nately the fleur-de-lys and the tower of Aragon. Above the main arch,
the entablature, a large Latin inscription in letters of gold, offered the
greetings of Paris to the monarchs.^^ Above the lateral arches were a sun,
in honour of the King, and a moon, symbol of the Queen. Under the
frieze, inscriptions testified to their merits.
Postquam terribili vicit rex omnia Marti
Vincere quem posset Mars super unus erat.
(After the King had conquered all things in a terrible war, Mars (war itself)
was the only thing left to conquer.)
Victorem martis praeda spoliisque superbum
Vincere quae posset sola Theresa fuit.
(Theresa alone is able to conquer the conqueror of Mars, laden with
spoils and booty.)
Along the entablature stood a collection of statues representing Faith-
fulness, Obedience,
Joy,
Gratitude, Concord, Constancy, each one with
its appropriate symbols. Any cultured man of the time would be famihar
with mythological allusions and had a taste for symbohsm. But this some-
times was so refmed that it became little more than an affected riddle.
Since expert knowledge was essential to iinravel these mysteries, pam-
phlets were distributed to the pubHc explaining the decor, and giving
translations or paraphrases of the Latin inscriptions. So it is quite probable
that the good people ofParis, and even the mihtia whose duty was to keep
order, had found time to study the various arches, and, if they had studied
dihgently, might have understood the full meaning of the fete.^^
The arch ofthe Faubourg60 ft wide and 48 ft highwas ofa strongly
classical design and obviously had been inspired by Rome. It was an early
forerurmer ofthe present day Carrousel, and openly professed to rival 'the
greatest ruins of antiquity'. An internal staircase made it possible for
oboists to reach the entablature and from there greet the King and Queen
with a serenade.
The procession wound on to the Bastille. The bridge had been decorated
with statues of Hercules and Pallas carved in stone, ordered for the oc-
casion from Regnaudin. Then, further on they came to an arch wliich
really was built in stone. It was the Porte Saint-Antoine, which had been
restored by Henri II [78].^ His cypher was still visible, but the classical
flavour of the original had been completely transformed by new oma-
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
98
mentations designed to impress on the spectators the greatness of Paris.
Sohdity and magnificence had therefore to be combined.
Round the central arch and upon the uprights there was superb rustica-
tion and the keystone had become a bust of Louis XIV, carved after a
sketch made by Poussin.
Paci
Victricibus Ludovici XIV. Armis
FeHcibus Annae consiliis Augustus M. Theresae nuptiis
Assiduis luhi Cardinahs Mazarini curis
Partae. Fundatae. Aeternum firmatae.
Praefect. urb. aedihsque Sacravere Anno mdclx
(To the Peace gained by the victorious arms ofLouis XIV, the vîse coun-
sels of Anne (of Austria) the august marriage of Marie-Therese, the dih-
gent help of JuHus,
Cardinal Mazarin, obtained, founded, and forever
confirmed, tliis arch is consecrated by the Provost ofthe Merchants' guilds
and the Town Councillors of Paris, in the year 1660.)
The central design was crowned by a large triangular pediment which
bore the entwined arms of the King and Queen; on each inchne rechned
statues of France and Spain; at the apex Hymen stood up to hold a golden
kerchief and flaming torcha work executed by Van Obstal. The side
pillars had two big niches. One housed a statue of the Hope of France
[Spes Galliae); the other one ofPubHc Safety. Both these were the work of
Anguier. The boat, the symbol ofParis, was above, and the outside pillars
were surmounted by pyramids, crowned by golden fleurs-de-lys. The old
gate of the town, which was quite near, was merely covered with tapes-
tries and with a picture of the Corps Municipal standing before the King,
while the Queen appeared in the sky as a goddess.
The procession followed the Rue Saint-Antoine into what is now the
Rue Franôis-Miron. Here it stopped before the mansion that had been
built by Lepautre five years earHer, for Queen Anne's faithful lady-in-
waiting, Madame de Beauvais, nee Catherine BeUier. Its facade is now
ruined, but the staircase and the courtyard still rank amongst the fmest
examples of work of this date. In 1660 the court had a magnificent balus-
traded balcony and above this, in honour ofthe occasion, a special dais had
been erected. Here Queen Anne sat in august company, with her sister-in-
law the Queen Mother of England, Turenne, and Cardinal Antonis Bar-
berini. Mazarin was also there, though he was too ill to take part in the
procession. Yet, as he saw it pass by, he would surely have enjoyed it as a
sign ofthe triumph ofhis policy, and could admire the fete in itselfit was
in so many ways Itahan and Baroque, and was taking place in the town
which had so hated him that it had twice banished him.
A few steps away there was another triumphal arch standing before the
cemetery of Saint-Jean, at the crossroads of Saint-Gervais
[79].
This one
showed the Temple ofthe Muses. It was extremely complex. It had a large
99
number of statues, many of them in most hvely poses. At its base there
yawned a wide grotto; its pillars were garlanded with laurels from top to
bottom. In the centre, a large oval-shaped medallion, surmounted by the
Crown, framed portraits of the King and Queen in profile, with the
legend: Jungit
Amor. A gigantic Virtue held it at arms' length, while a httle
higher Eros and Anteros, the God ofLove and the God ofLove Rewarded,
faced each other, and balanced the design. Everywhere there was a con-
fusion ofangels, of quivering wings and legs to be seen amid the palms. In
the background were famous writers of all ages amongst oHve groves.
Higher up, a small mountain was encircled bythe seven muses, with Thalia in
the centre wearing her masks, to form the last storey. But this was crowned
by Apollo, his forehead decorated with laurels, playing on the viol be-
tween CaUiope and Cho.
The poetry of this elaborate symbohsm had been chosen to hnk the
glory of hterature with the triumph of mutual love. When the King and
Queen arrived a choir sang the hymn which du Mont had composed after
the words of the Abbe de Boisrobert.
Come O glorious Queen,
To receive our good wishes and give us our Laws,
Come and reign over the hearts of all Frenchmen
And abandon without regret the fine title of Infanta
In the arms of the most handsome of Kings.
See him, in his resplendent majesty
This spouse famed for his glorious feats
Who has at last fixed his choice on you.
Come and put an end to the long wait of his deUghted subjects
And reign over the greatest of Kings.
Going then by the Rue Tissanderie and the Rue de la Vannerie, the pro-
cession reached Notre Dame, and at the entrance, a concert of bagpipes
gave an unexpected pastoral touch to the fete. Normally the bridge, bmlt
up with houses on both sides, was the most congested part of Paris. Its
decoration on that day turned it into a pleasant gallery. Termes had been
made by the sculptor Vion and, to honour the sexes equally, male and
female statues lined the bridge, so that with their outstretched arms,
they joined each other as though in a dance. It is probable that they all
wore large medaUions bearing the names (in Latin) ofall the French kings.
The Protestants ofParis must have appreciated the motto ofCharles IX:
'Justitiam pietas acuit' ('His piety sharpened his justice'). The date was that
of the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew.
At the end ofthe bridge that led to the Cite, the triumphal arch that had
been planned by the Beaubrun brothers, had as its theme 'Et Mars quoque
cessit Amori. It consisted of an arch of Ionic order (to evoke feminine
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
100 charm) and a large entablature. Draperies, held up by bows, framed a
large picture of Mars vanquished, and a small scoffing Cupid, both of
whom are looking at the portraits of the King and Queen. On both sides
of the picture were statues of white marble, painted and half concealed by
the drapery. They represented Fecundity and Honour. Above the dra-
peries two reclining statues symbohzed Conjugal FideUty and Union, with
hearts threaded on the same string, and between them a Httle Cupid bran-
dished the arms of the King and Queen.
The procession crossed over to the other side of the island, until it
reached the Marche-Neuf
^'^
It then turned to the right, followed the em-
bankment for a while, then turned again to reach the Place Dauphine. The
Marche-Neuf was decorated by a big portico in the ItaUan style, which
was the work of Dorigny and Tortebat. Its wings, with twisted columns
for the arch, made a concave design rather reminiscent of the facade of
Sant' Agnese. A garland of cooking pots hung from the balustrade. In the
centre two draperies, surmounted by the stem of a great ship, the symbol
ofParis, were drawn apart to reveal a picture ofHercules, looking like the
King, being disarmed by a Minerva who portrayed the Queen. Little
Cupids were stripping the hero of his attributes, and Mercury, who rep-
resented Mazarin, seemed to congratulate him on having yielded to
Minerva. From heaven this fairy-tale spectacle was looked upon by St
Louis and Blanche de Castille, sitting on clouds. The sentiment already
expressed in the stone inscription of the arch of the Faubourg Saint-
Antoine was again echoed here.
But this mixture of sacred and profane art caused criticism among the
devout, who found it sacrilegious; also the doctrinaires denounced it for
flouting the classical rules of unity which all good compositions should
follow. The reaction was so strong that even in 1662 we fmd I'Auteur de la
Relation defending the organizers ofthe fete against this charge. According
to him 'this Hcence is sufficiently justified by the works of Raphael who
can undoubtedly stand as an example to the most illustrious'.
The Place Dauphine had been turned into a vast amphitheatre, and here
also was the last triumphal arch
[80]
. Its magnificence and its ingenuity far
surpassed all the preceding ones. In its conception and execution Le Brun
here showed how great he could be. The grandiose he enhanced by his
imagination. His sensitivity, his good taste, his Italian training, now, with
liis enthusiasm for France and the King, called forth his utmost powers. He
had wanted the arch at the end of the lie to be a hundred feet high
a
gigantic gate to the Cite, the heart of liistorical Paris. But the door had to
be an open one so that through its arch could be seen the bronze horse, the
Pont-Neufand the Seine flowing by the Louvre. Above the arch stood an
obelisk, much in the Roman taste, which liked to use relics ofthe Egyptian
or earlier civilizations as ornaments. The obelisk was silliouetted against
the sky, like a 'starry pointing pyramid'. Furthermore 'if the whole struc-
ture of this arch was built in one, it could nevertheless be considered like
two parts joined together', for the arch stood for the people, and the obcl- loi
isk for the King. The lower part was the base of the obehsk, 'in the same
way that the people were the base and foundation on which was erected
the monarchy'.
The main theme of all the decorations on this day had been the glorifi-
cation of the marriage and the new peace. But sometimes it took on a
broader significance; recent events were compared with the great deeds of
antiquity which had shaped the world. But, though it might seem to be
the last stanza of a poem in praise of France and the Monarchy, it was
merely the funeral ceremony of a phasenew glories in a new age were
to be expected. Such anyway is the meaning given in a small booklet
probably written by Felibien^^ and dedicated to Mazarin.
The arch seemed to be made ofwhite marble. On each side two figures
ofTermes painted in bronze were holding hands. They echoed the theme
of marriage: Fire reconciled with Water, and Air with Earth, elements
which, according to the ideas of the time, were in natural harmony with
the four humours of which man was composed. 'But peace can triumph
only through the victory which it has obtained over the humours of the
various peoples.'
Le Brun had Uvcd four years in Rome, from 1642 till 1646. That was too
early for him to have seen the fountain of the Piazza Navona, which with
its four streams, representing the four quarters of the world, was also cos-
mic in its symboHsm.
He had nevertheless been nurtured on the Itahan ideal. His fine com-
position, logical yet filled with mystery, full of detail, but showing an
overall nobility of design, keeps us, when looking at his work, to essen-
tials. It has not that tormented look which one can see in the Navona
fountain designed by Bernini. It could justifiably be labelled Classicism.
But it would be to mistake the character of this Classicism if one were to
connect it with the antique or the doctrinaire and ignore how much the
exuberant spirit of Itahan Baroque enhvens and nourishes it.
Above the entablature a sham tapestry in a frame with a pediment
showed the King and Queen in a chariot driven by Hymen. On both sides
of the tapestry, statues of Piety and Gentleness represented the Queen
Mother and the young Queen respectively. These statues were painted in
natural colours. Piety was dressed in a wide purple mantle adorned with
gold, and held aloft a flaming heart. With the other hand she pointed out
a pehcan tearing out its heart to feed its young. Close by, a cowering wolf
represented Impiety Conquered, On the pediment ofthe frame stood Atlas,
holding up a blue globe decorated with golden fleurs-de-lys, which the
spirits of France and Spain help him to support amongst the trophies and
the flags. Fame flies above them, blowing a trumpet. The obehsk was in
part hidden by this decoration on the sides, but it was by no means spoiled
by that. Its elegant shape soared up, bearing two golden rehefs which por-
trayed the almost miraculous birth of the King, and his marriage which
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
102 had brought back the redemption of peace. At the apex was a statue of
Eternity.
On the side of the obeHsk which faced the Seine a Latin inscription,
composed by Pere Gaussart, extolled the superb successes of the royal
poHcy. In order to read it, one had to stand at the foot ofthe statue of this
great ancestor. He also had brought peace to his kingdom after civil and
foreign wars, but his young heir had been able to extend it to the whole of
Europe, which was a far greater achievement.
Manus uterque suis pacem dedit: alter et orbi
Arbitruis paeans omnia regna suis.
(Both gave to their people the benefits of peace: but the second to the
world as well, leaving only liis authority in other kingdoms.
)^^
Since these monuments of painted canvas and sham stone were broken
up the next day, the revels and merry-making which marked the occasion
were soon forgotten, and historians have, in. fact, rather unjustly tended to
ignore them. It gave an idea ofthe situation ofthe country at that particular
time, of what was fashionable in Paris, and also shows us how great were
the intellectual and artistic resources ofFrance. It does not deserve to be for-
gotten. It was an expression of one of the most powerful States in Europe,
and of a people who, in spite of the sufferings of a long war and of an at-
tempted revolution, were now rejoicing in the future. It was not a court
function. In Paris this fete reflected the national feeling. Its gaiety and spon-
taneity could only have come from a mature civihzation; one can think of
no other European city that could have staged such a demonstration.
Though indeed Rome, Venice and Florence possessed more master-
pieces, their populations were small and, on the whole, incapable ofserious
thought. None ofthem was a capital city with a great kingdom depending
on it. If fashion had often mirrored the ideas of ItaHan Baroque, and still
hesitated between the modern trend and ancient doctrine, it would soon
find its own idiom. All this decor indeed seems to be only a rough sketch
for the great work which follows, a fragile forerunner of something per-
manent: the lath and plaster would soon be translated into stone.
After Le Brun's arch, the cortege reached the King's palace, which was
a curious mixture of medieval and modern. It was not worthy of a great
prince, and could only be a temporary resting-place. One wonders what
tliis young king, who still left the reins of government in the hands of
an old minister, would remember of his day's triumphal ride through his
capital. Would he understand the fervent wish for peace so clearly ex-
pressed by his people; would he follow Henri IV's example and dedicate
his hfe to the unexciting tasks of peacetime
?^^
After the Fronde, many of the evils which it had fought came back
again, more formidable than ever. The State had not made any thorough-
going reforms. This was probably not possible anyway while general con-
ditions remained the same, and there was no change in the economic
103
structure ofthe country. Famines, largely caused by the lack ofany organi-
zation in distribution, continued. There was a terrible one in 1662. The
income of the State was dangerously below its expenditure, and since
recourse to expedients was essential, the financiers had to be humoured,
for without them, debts could not be met. But they were permitted to
take scandalous advantage of their position. For the time being public
opinion was lulled by hopes of a better future. Still embezzlements con-
tinued; they were, in fact, inherent in the system. Only thus could one
explain the fabulous fortune amassed by Foucquct, the Attorney-General
of Paris, and Superintendent of Finance. He was certainly not more dis-
honest than many others, nor less good a servant of the State and the
Prince, but his taste for luxury and the opportunities that were so readily
available made him indiscreet. His downfall had already been decided by
a group ofenemies, headed by Colbert, long before Mazarin died.^^ Fouc-
quet was a rich nobleman, who had a passion for buying up land and
objets d'art, and also for building. His ambition was to erect a really
princely palace on his demesne at Vaux-le-Vicomte, which was to be
built by Louis Le Vau and the grounds to be laid out by Le Notre. Le Vau
drew his inspiration both from the French Renaissance and the examples
he had seen of Italian workhe was at the same time a traditionahst and
an innovator. This enabled him to design a chateau such as every French-
man dreamed of, but one which was comfortable and also adapted to the
continual festivities and entertainments which were then in fashion
[74].
The layout of the grounds and terraces provided a worthy setting for the
magnificent oval salon which was the central feature of the chateau: a
pavihon, two storeys high, crowned by a dome and an elegant lantern.
The ceiHng was to be painted by Le Brun.^^
But even before the building had been completed, it was obvious that
the cost would far exceed the estimates, and visitors to Vaux may well
have marvelled at the immense riches one could commandif only one
controlled the Treasury. There was no question of petty pilfering from
national investments, but a subtle game of bribes, the perquisites of office,
a percentage offered on a sale or a purchasethe whole thing was quite
beyond the comprehension of any layman, but nevertheless, something
very suspicious.
Hoping to please the King, Foucquet gave a magnificent party in his
honour at the new chateau. Even foreigners were included in the invita-
tion hst 'to meet the greatest King in the world'.
^^
It was, almost to a day,
one year since that triumphal, joyful but nevertheless extremely significant
and rather earnest welcome had been given to Louis XIV as he entered
Paris.
The celebrations that took place on 17th August 1661, were quite
different. There was nothing serious here: pleasure reigned supreme. Both
eye and ear were enchanted. Fountains played, and the ingenuity of
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
104
Torelli managed to give the alleys a continual variety. There was music by
the young Florentine composer, LuUi. There was a play, Les Fdcheux, by
MoHere; there was a banquet prepared by Vatel, which was in itself a
masterpiece. As night fell there were the illuminations and a display of
fireworksnothing was missing to make this a completely fairytale scene
with harsh reaHties quite banished. It was, also, a fete in honour of a peer-
less sovereign, who
In fulfilment of his duties and in private hfe
Was noble in action and noble in taste.^*
The poet went on to remind the King that he was almighty. This praise
must even then have struck Louis as rather ironic. Mazarin had died
six months ago, and since then Colbert had made it quite plain to the King
that there was no money to meet the festivities which he so enjoyed.
It is difficult to understand Louis XIV's reactions at this time. He was
worried by two problems, which to us, looking back, may seem quite
contradictory, but may not have appeared so to him. He had to pacify the
kingdom and set it on its feet again by furthering hard work and austerity.
At the same time he must impress the people with his power, his still
youthful vigour, and his grandeur.
It would be a great mistake to think of the splendid, rather ItaHanate
fete which the King enjoyed at Vaux as flouting the poverty-stricken
classes. It is also unjust to think of the quarrel between the King and his
minister as one in which a megalomaniac fought against a sagacious and
experienced man. Foucquet had only done what Louis XIV himselfwould
have liked to do.
The way he ordered the arrest of Foucquet, indeed, shows up the King
as a most unsympathetic character, though he was, on the whole, an
honourable and noble man.^^ But it was not merely a question of Fouc-
quet. He was a scapegoat for a whole group, all of them building ostenta-
tiously in the grand manner. There was Lambert, who had grown rich
in the Ministry of Finance. He had also employed Le Vau to build him a
magnificent house on the lie St Louis which was to be decorated by Le
Brun. There was Groyn des Bordes, who built a charming house nearby
which was later known as Lauzun. There was Bordier, whose chateau at
Raincy boasts the earhest oval salon. Then there was Servien, who re-
modelled the chateau at Meudon.
This frenzy for building had at least one thing to be said in its favour
it kept artists and craftsmen in Paris and put them on their mettle. Archi-
tects, painters, decorators, actors, poets and musicians (whether Italian
or French) rivalled and hated one another. But it meant that they worked
hard, and that their work was first class.
The arrest of Foucquet came hke a clap of thunder out of a blue sky. It
was one of the grossest miscarriages ofjustice ever perpetrated in France.
But there was no particular reaction against the sort of entertainment that
Foucquet had put on for the King, no setback to any fetes, and it had no 105
importance in the battle of styles. It simply meant that the King, and the
King alone, could put on an entertainment on such a lavish, such an osten-
tatious scale.
There were a few of those whom Foucquet had befriended who re-
mained loyal to liim, but to make a living one had to keep in touch with
royalty, so most of the minister's followers went to make their court to
Louis XIV.
The following winter saw a revival of festivals which were hked by the
populacejust as much as they were by the courtiers. In addition, the theatre
in the Tuileries which Mazarin had hoped to be open when Louis returned
to Paris was, at last, finished. It had been built by Le Vau on lines indicated
by the Vigarani, so that it could incorporate the latest theatrical devices and
stage machinery. The King could now boast of having, in his own palace,
a modern theatre which rivalled the ones that the Duke of Parma and
Modena had built or even the famous theatre in Venice. Both the Court
and Paris were proud of it for, in spite of the Parisian's love of plays, the
capital had not many theatres. The splendid Hall of Richelieu in the Car-
dinal's palace (now the Palais-Royal) could be used, and there were stages
in the Hotel de Bourgogne and the Salle du Marais. But since the Petit-
Bourbon had been demoHshed to enlarge the Louvre, that was aU.^^
On the 27th February 1662, the court was invited to see an opera-ballet
Ercole amante by CavalH.^'^ Once more the libretto had been written by the
Abbe Buti, and LuUi had composed the dance tunes. Cavalh's score was
both witty and beautiful, worthy of a composer who (as Romain RoUand
pointed out) dominated the whole ofItaHan opera during the seventeenth
century, even Monteverdi not excepted. The Vigarani, who produced it,
employed all the theatrical machinery to the full: a globe descended bear-
ing fifteen people, processions were seen passing through the skies, and a
boat was swallowed up in a storm. The prologue was once again an eulogy
of the royal marriage, and in the fmal ballet both the King and Queen
themselves took part.
Parisian critics did not, however, give it a very good reception. The
ballets were praised more than the opera, perhaps because ofcontemporary
taste, or it may have been diat the acoustics of the theatre were so bad
that Hstening to the mu<:ic was a strain. But it was quite evident that the
pubhc was again turning against the Itahans, no matter whether they were
composers, singers, scene designers or just simple artisans. It had happened
before, fifteen years ago, when Orfeo had been produced. Then there had
been a rumour that the fire in the Louvre, which had destroyed the Galerie
des Rois a year before, had been started by ItaHan workmen.
The fall of Foucquet had affected both ToreUi and the castrato singer
Atteo Melani. The hands at the Marais theatre were themselves expert in
the use of all theatrical machinery, and they led the attack against the
Vigarani.
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
io6
Italian opera was denigrated by Cambert, a musician who claimed that
he could write in a style much better suited to French taste: musical comedy
which gave an opportunity to include more songs. Then LulH, who at that
time had made no great impression in Court circles, was quite ready to
desert his countrymen and join the anti-Itahan party. He did not possess
CavaUi's gifts, neither his power of invention nor his beautiful melodic
line. He had, however, a facile imagination and a great abiUty to learn
from other people's work.
When he was searching for a style that would combine the best quahties
of French and Itahan music he first favoured the French. Certainly he
managed to enchant the King by the elegance ofhis compositions for and
his direction of ballets. By 1661 he had been appointed Master of the
Chamber Music, and been granted naturahzation papers. Then, just as
Ercole amante had been taken off as a flop, LuUi turned his back on his
Bohemian past and married the daughter of the musician Lambert. The
marriage was witnessed by both the King and the Queen.
Yet however much Louis may have enjoyed the ballet or theatre it was
not enough for him, and he became more and more infatuated with the
idea of transforming Versailles, then Httle more than a simple and unim-
pressive Httle hunting lodge that had been built by his father four leagues
away from Paris.
It was in 1664 that he decided to invite the Court to Versailles to enjoy
'the pleasure of unusual entertainments'. Perhaps it was to erase the mem-
ory of the great fete which Foucquet had staged at Vaux, but it was with-
out doubt to be an apotheosis of Louis XIV in his youth and glory, the
young sovereign who was so feared that even the Pope and the King of
England had surrendered when there had been a quarrel about etiquette.
He was too, as everyone knew, a happy lover. His aflair with Mademois-
elle de la VaUiere was countenanced even by the Queen Mother, who was
noted for her piety, and by the Queen herself, in spite of her love for
Louis. They were resigned to the fact, which was everlastingly repeated,
that the King was supreme and his every whim must be indulged.
Les Plaisirs de Vile enchantee {The Pleasures
of
the Enchanted Isle)as the
fete was calledbegan on the 7th May in Versailles.^^ Three days ofcaval-
cades, plays and balletsall based on one theme
Roland Furieuxwere
the main entertainment. The scene was the palace of the sorceress Alcine
who held Roger and his companions prisoners, until the spell was broken
by Angelique's ring. The Duke of Saint-Aignan, as first gentleman of the
bedchamber, was entrusted with the supervision of the whole, but almost
certainly Vigarani was employed, since people stiU turned to Italy both for
subject-matter and for stage management.
The first day began with a cavalcade of nobles in fancy dress riding
through part ofthe park which had been specially laid out for the occasion.
The King himself took the role ofRoger and as he and the chiefnoblemen
appeared they were introduced by the recitation ofshort verses. Then fol-
lowed a vast chariot of Apollo, drawn by four horses abreast, which was
107
'dazzhng with gold, brass, iron and silver', and further decorated with sea
monsters which were emblematic of the god. The charioteer was Old
Father Time. After that came the main procession of the day, immediately
followed by one representing the twelve Signs of the Zodiac. Then pages
filed past with their emblems, and some shepherds. When each group had
taken up its place they formed a great circle. Then facing the two Queens,
Apollo and the Centuries recited poems, composed by Benserade in
honour of the King and Queen.
There was one very curious allusion in Apollo's declamation about the
rights over Spain's possessions which the Queen's cliildrcn would possess.
The fete was not apparently mere pleasure but an occasion to avow world-
wide poHtical ambitions.
The thousand divers cHmes we see under the rule
Ofthose demi-gods from whom she traces her birtli,
Yielding to her merits as much as to their duty.
They will one day be united under her might.
The grandeur of France and of Spain,
The rights of Charles V and Charlemagne,
Their blood through her happily transmitted.
Will make the whole world submit to her throne.
After that came some tilting at the ring which was won by the brother of
the Kjng's mistressthe Marquis de la VaUiere. After the tilting, the
Seasons and the Signs of the Zodiac danced a torchlight baUet [ballet aux
lumieres). Then back came the Seasons: Spring on horseback, Summer
riding an elephant. Autumn a camel, and Winter on a bear
[81].
Then gar-
deners, harvesters, grape-gatherers and hoary old men with icicles, again
symboHc of the Seasons, brought up baskets and dishes for the buffet. At
this point Pan and Diana arrived 'on a most ingenious machine, in the
shape ofa little hill shaded by several trees'. The astonishing thing was that
*it was seen in the air, without displaying the mechanism which made it
move'. The Seasons addressed compliments to the Queen, and then supper
began, with forty guests sitting down, presided over by the Queen
Mother seated between the King and the Queen. They were waited on by
the pages, while other attendants in fancy dress held up such a vast quan-
tity of tallow torches and candles that it was as clear as dayUght.
The second evening was spent in an improvised theatre, Hstening to a
concert and watching a performance ofPrincessc d'Elide by Mohere, a play
consisting of dances and, again, music by LuUi. Little known nowadays,
rarely played, and never according to the original version,^^ the Princesse
d'Elide constitutes, in MoHere's work, a curious play, w^here prose foUows
verse starting with the second act. It is a 'comedie galante', with some
touches ofthe pastoral. The Princess affects indifference, though she loves
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
io8 the Prince of Ithaca, Euryalus, who also loves her but who, to arouse her
further interest, also feigns indifference. The story is therefore one of a
'precieuse' almost caught in her own trap. But the action is mixed with
buffoonery and the Princess's jester. Moron, stands for commonsense and
naturalness, for all his tomfoolery.
The interlude of the Aurore, which opens the play, speaks a praise to
love. One could hardly hear it without thinking ofthe amours ofthe King.
When love offers to your eyes an agreeable choice,
Young beauties, let yourselves be tempted;
Resist from affecting the haughty pride
Which you were advised to adopt:
At the age when one is lovable,
Nothing is so fme as to love.
Sign freely for a faithful lover,
And brave those who would blame you;
A tender heart is lovable, and the badge of 'cruelle'
Is not a name of which to be proud:
At the age when one is beautiful.
Nothing is so fme as to love.
The interludes provided excuses for arias by Lulli, like the one sung by
the shepherd Tireis. The music did not seek after vocal effects but served
as a setting for the elegance of the verse.
Leafy trees, and you brilhant fields,
The beauty of which winter had robbed you.
Is given you back by the spring
You regain all your charms;
But my soul does not fmd again
The joy, alas, that I have lost.
The third day was spent around a vast round pond, in which were three
islands: on the biggest was Alcine's beautiful palace
[82].
On the other two
narrower ones were stationed kettle-drummers and violins and when the
spectators arrived, a concert struck up. Then Alcine and her followers,
mounted on sea monsters, approached, to beg the King and Queen for
protection against the attackers of the enchanted palace. But sorceresses
could scarcely hope for the protection of Anne of Austria, because of 'her
famous zeal in her cult for the gods'. So, resignedly, they sailed back alone
to defend their island and prepare for a state of siege. Then followed six
ballets with giants, dwarfs, knights and monsters. At last Mehsse (who had
for the moment assumed the features ofAtlas) arrived with her magic ring
to break the spell. Alcine's palace went up in a glory of flares and rockets
which was only part of a firework display that had probably never been
109
rivalled either in noise, duration or variety. That was, in fact, the end of
The Pleasures
of
the Enchanted Isle, which had given its name to the whole
fete, though it was by no means the end of the festivities. They went on
for several more days. There were visits to the menagerie, courses de tetes,
more plays to see and, of course, more banquets. It was not until 12th
May that, for the first time, three acts of
Tartuffe
were performed, leaving
the audience wondering if the ideas expressed were not rather suspect.
But what a success The Pleasures
of
the Enchanted Isle had been! It had
caught all the vivacity of that new and youthful Court. No previous king
could have called upon so much artistic talent. Never had France seen
entertainments so ingenious and so varied. One might question whether
even Renaissance Italy could rival it. There was, of course, the famous
temple that Sigismondo Malatesta had built in honour of his mistress
that extraordinary evocation ofthe antique with exquisitely carved marble

reliefs to illustrate the verses which that most erudite Italian prince had
written to her. So also had Louis, in this Baroque festival, sought to
celebrate his youthful zest and his love. Though the show was ephemeral
and only a nine days' wonder, it was, on these grounds, perhaps not un-
worthy to be compared with the Tempietto at Rimini.
Although, as we have seen, there may have been some political imphca-
tions, the theatrical and fabulous nature of the festival, with its innuendos
or open references to current 'affaires', could hardly have been more re-
mote from serious everyday problemsunless it was to show how dazz-
ling this pleasure-loving and victorious young king could be. But, already
at the turn of the century the historian Lavisse had written that anyone
seeing how a young prince chose to amuse himself must wonder if the
whole reign would follow the same pattern.
Colbert certainly must have wondered what was to be done, seeing this
fantastic extravaganza taking place, not in Paris, but in an obscure and
hardly heard-of hunting lodge. He, if anyone, was anxious to further
Louis's ambitions and his poHcy of'la gloire', but he wished it to have some
relation to reaHty, and to have a worthy setting.
The first essential was that the King should have a residence in Paris, a
palace that would be worthy ofhim and his ancestors, and one that could
be handed on to his heirs with pride. It was, indeed, high time for some-
thing solid and permanent to be undertaken and an end put to those end-
less shows that had been staged by the ItaHans for the last twenty years,
which might be vastly popular or bitterly hated by the mob, according to
its mood.
There was one solution. The Louvre must, at all costs, be completed.
The one question that remained was, who was to do it?
CHAPTER VI
Bernini visits âris
In 1665 Bernini paid a visit to Paris. This is always looked upon as one of
the moments when Baroque and Classicism really came face to face, and
since the plans which Bernini submitted for the rebuilding of the Louvre
were rejected both by Louis XIV and by Colbert it is generally taken for
granted that France then decided to adopt the classical values and give a
resounding rebuff to the Baroque. But it is worth while, before assuming
this, to follow what did happen in some detail.
First of all, one must reahze what the Louvre was like when Louis XTV
and his young Queen first took up residence there in the summer of 1660.
Some parts of the royal palace had been remodelled and luxuriously
decorated, but as a whole it was still unfinished and, in any case, it was too
cramped for the King and his court. Seen from the Seine, it looked like a
small palace of three stories, the ground floor, the piano nobile, and the
attic storey. It was bounded on one side by a wing higher than the main
building (built by Lescot) and on the other, the Saint-Germain-l'Auxer-
rois side, there was a round tower. But the centre faced due south and was
unsheltered from the midday sun. Between it and the church there were
the Petit-Bourbon and the LongueviUe mansion and a whole district
through which the Rue des Poulies ran from north to south. Between the
palace and the riverside a garden had been laid out which was terminated
on the west by the fine building of the Little Gallery.^ If one entered the
Louvre by the east postern, coming from Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, one
would see the facade built by Henri II, which had been copied by Lemer-
cier on the north, where today we find the Rue de RivoH. The centre of
the fa(;ade was broken by a clock pavilion, which Lemercier had crowned
by a quadrangular dome. On the other side there was the kitchen court,
tightly hemmed in by the many mansions, gardens, and streets that had
been laid out between the Louvre and the Tuileries. Here you would fmd
the Hopital des Quinze-Vingts, the Rue Saint-Thomas du Louvre with the
mansion of Madame de RambouiUet and the Place du Carrousel.
If one followed the banks of the Seine, one would see the two palaces of
the Louvre and the Tuileries already linked up by the Great Gallery. The
Valois had decided that this should not be liigher than the de Bois Tower,
which was one of the historical landmarks^ of ancient Paris, already com-
BERNINI VISITS PARIS
pleted. under Henri IV. But much new work had been carried out at the ii
i
Louvre under Louis XIII and after the Fronde. Anne of Austria had had
her suite on the ground floor magnificently decorated, but when she found
the heat of the summer unbearable she decided to live, for several weeks
at least, in the rooms of the Little Gallery, where the windows gave on to
the gardens.
For three years, from
1655 to 1658, the sculptor Michel Anguicr and the
artist Romanelli were engaged in decorating a suite ofrooms that ran from
the Hall of Mars to the balcony overlooking the quai, and their work can
still be seen today. Some other, and very remarkable, decorations were
carried out in the rooms which the King and Queen were to use on the
first floor. Mazarin had rooms above, in the top storey, but he showed
more interest in his private mansion in the Rue des Petits-Champs where
his collections were housed: also his health forced liim to spend much of
his time out at Vincennes.
Once the royal household had settled down in the Louvre, plans were
made to enlarge it. By filling in the moats and taking in some land from
the Petit-Bourbon,^ Le Vau, in the additions he carried out from 1661-63,
extended the palace towards the east.
Just
as Lemercier had copied the
Henri II facade when he completed the courtyard, so Le Vau built a repHca
of the King's pavilion and the wing by Lescot, but in the centre he placed
a screen of huge pillars and surmounted the entablature with a balustrade
and a low cupola flanked by two tall chimneys
[83].
At the beginning of February 1661 a fire broke out in the Little Gallery,
where rehearsals were being held for the ballet VImpatience. The whole of
the first floor was burnt out; all the royal effigies which Henri IV had
collected were destroyed, and the flames reached the fine figures ofslaves,
carved by Biard the Elder, which were above the central doorway on the
west side; yet, on the ground floor, the Queen Mother's new suite was
untouched.
Le Vau, who had already begun on the facade on the north side, now
undertook to repair the Little Gallery and extend it to the west so that it
was possible to enter it from the Court ofthe Sphinx. He also changed the
Gallery of the Kings by decorating it with scenes from the hfe of ApoUo,
after whom the gallery was renamed. The painter was Le Brun, and the
artists chosen to execute the frames and the stucco work were Girardon,
Marsi and Regnaudin.
Le Vau had planned to complete the quadrangle of the Louvre byjoin-
ing up the existing buildings and making the east facade rather higher.
The foundations had already been commenced before it was decided to
make this the main entrance to the palacewhich had to be a grand and
noble design. The leading architects in France were asked to compete, and
Itahan architects were also asked for their advice and help in preparing the
plans. The French ambassador at Rome, Crequi, and also a special envoy,
the Abbe Benedetti, were told to get into touch with Bernini and Rainaldi
I
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
112 at the same time that, in Paris, Francois Mansart, Houdin, Cottart and
Marot were preparing designs.
On 4th May 1664,
Bernini wrote to Colbert that he was even more
sensible of the honour done him, since the King had not seen his works.
Also, that from the day that the ground plans had been shown him, he had
put aside all other serious work to study them intensively in. the hope that
it might compensate for him not being 'sul sito\^
A few weeks later, on 23rd
June 1664, he sent off a design to Colbert
with a covering letter that was friendly, and also rather flamboyant; he
assured him that all the talents with which Divine Providence had en-
dowed liim had been employed and, had his imagination been untramelled
by practical considerations, there would have been the plan of a palace
worthy even ofHis Majesty.^ From what one knows ofBernini, this poHte
and precious letter was, in fact, fishing for comphments, and an acknow-
ledgment of the difficulties which any architect must encounter in design-
ing a palace for a town which he had never seen.
This first plan has been identified by M. Hautecoeur, who found the
elevation and the ground plan amongst other designs in a large portfoho
that is still preserved in the Louvre [84].^ At first sight the proposed palace
is so utterly different from any building that had been previously erected,
and indeed from any that one has grown used to since then, that it is easy
enough to understand the shock and indeed the scandal that it caused. In
the centre is a great oval pavihon which dominates the whole design, with
its two loggias rising one above the other, and with a colossal order of
pilasters between the arches
[85].
Then, the convexity of the pavihon is
flanked for contrast by two concave wings whichjoin up two rectangular
pavilions ofthe same height. An attic storey and a balustrade with statuary
complete the building, hi the central part, above the main pavihon and the
great pilasters, there is a gallery with round windows in the form of a
crown. The plan of the courtyard is a square surrounded by a two-
storeyed gallery. At the east there are two staircases whose square turrets
stand out and contrast with the galleries
[86].
Ah the other plans which had been prepared, either in France or Italy,
seem tame compared with Bernini's design. It is not that they are any less
elaborate, but that they lack any mastery of movement and, indeed, the
imprint of a master-architect. If one compares another Itahan design with
Bemim'sthat submitted by Rainaldi, for examplethere is a rather low
rustication ofthe ground floor, a colossal order for the piano nohile, an attic
storey; the central motifis surmounted by a huge royal crown wliich sup-
ports a gigantic flcur-de-lys. Bernini did not allow superfluous ornaments,
but relied upon the contrast between the central pavihon and the concave
hues of the galleries to give a feehng of movement to the facade. The
square towers, with their sohdity and almost austere character, suitably
ended the rhytlimic pattern. One may admire or dishke the design, but if
one takes the trouble to discuss the pros and cons of this plan at least there
will be some understanding of what Bernini intended. Certainly Colbert
113
did that. The loggias gave no direct access to the hving-rooms and the
palace was surrounded, except where there were the corner towers, by an
arcade. It was doubtless, as Colbert admitted, 'a superb and magnificent'
piece ofdecoration. It was quite possible, both on the ground floor or from
the first storey, to walk along the galleries and watch the coming and
going of the nobles with their train of carriages and their retinues in the
courtyard which was to have led up to the palace. But the Minister saw
some practical objections to this, and wrote a long and very detailed
memorandum about the project. It is worth studying this report carefully,
and to see, paragraph by paragraph, what criticisms Colbert made about
the individual parts of Bernini's plan."^
It is easy enough to see what had gone wrong. The plan looked enchant-
ing but it took no notice whatever of 'sordid' necessities, and practical
needs were sacrificed to the superb decoration. The lack of depth of the
gallery was one thing that Colbert criticized, since it had 'que 2 toises
1/2 en
son dedans' (i.e. 15
feet). The oval pavilion had a great state apartment on
every storey, but the one on the ground floor had also to serve as the only
entrance to the palace, and had therefore been the most ornate and the
most beautiful 'to prepare the visitors for the magnificence ofthe interior'.
It was felt that, apart from the richness of decoration the entrance must be
lofty, certainly higher than the other state rooms above. It might have to
be built up to the roofand be Ht by a dome, or, at the very least, carried up
two storeys so that it would be flooded by daylight from the windows of
the second as well as from those of the ground floor. There would be no
oval hall on the first storey, and the piano nohile would have even less space
for rooms. It was evident that on the first floor all the hghting for the
rooms and ante-chambers could only come from the outside gallery or
from the two small courtyards that lay hidden behind the concave gal-
leries.^ Even then it seemed as if the ends ofthe building might be in semi-
darkness, for one window, facing west, looked out upon the winding
staircases and the other, facing east, gave on to the small courtyard behind
the concave gallery. The main objection was the crown which surmounted
the oval pavihon. Everyone naturally expected it to be the royal crown
and therefore a design of a closed crown would have to be substituted for

the open crown that Bernini had suggested. And that again opened up
difficulties about how the covering of the crown should be carried out.
Colbert at last decided that Bernini had really been interested only in the
facade of this magnificent palace, and sent liim his criticisms 'so that he
might review his plan and remodel it as he thought fit'. That therefore is
what happened to the first ofBernini's plans for the Louvre. On the whole
Colbert had been pleased with it, even with many ofits details, except for
the crown, and expected that Bernini's ingenuity would be able to solve
all practical difficulties. Nor indeed was Beniini at all taken aback. It is
certain that he prepared a second plan when he was working in Rome in
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
114 the winter months of 1664-65, but the only tangible evidence is the
sketches now preserved in the Stockholm museum, and doubts have been
cast on these.^ If indeed they are a true copy of Bernini's plan, they show
great changes from the previous plan. Now, following Colbert's advice,
the plan for an oval crown was abandoned, and possibly because of this
and the criticisms ofinadequate hghting, the whole idea ofan oval pavihon
was scrapped, and in its stead Bernini proposed to make the eastern side
a large palace, concave, where the central pavihon with its decoration
of colossal order would be advanced several metres. The rectangular
towers at both ends ofthe facade show httle alteration from the first design.
It would appear that the central pavihon was taken up by a gallery, but the
corridors had been dispensed with and the adjoining rooms admitted the
daylight directly. Another thing which had not been envisaged in the first
design was the ground floor which now formed the base of the building,
and if one compares the two plans, which have the same number ofstoreys
(the attic storey of the first is replaced by the ground floor in the second
design), it seems that the later design did provide more rooms, and more
comfortable ones.
But the interest aroused by this second design did not last long, for,
almost as soon as it arrived in Paris, news came that Bernini himselfwould
soon visit the capital. After the reconcihation between Louis XIV and
Alexander VII, the Pope, whether out of the goodness of his heart or out
of fright, was persuaded to give several months' leave to Bernini, so that
he might travel to Paris and make plans for the Louvre on the spot. Father
Ohva, who was Vicar-General of the Jesuits and a personal friend of
Bernini, was charged with smoothing away any difficulties that might
arise. He had persuaded Bernini that it was his duty to accept the King's
invitation and went so far as to say that even if an angel from Heaven
appeared saying that il Cavahere would die on the journey, he should still
go. Even so this second plan is important, were it only a proof of how
great an effort Bernini was willing to make to modify his ideals of grand
decoration for practical necessities. It is a proof, too, ofthe richness and the
subtlety of his creative genius and is, one might almost say, a halfway
house between the fme flower ofhis first enthusiastic reaction and what he
later on suggested when he was actually in Paris. Both designs were
Baroque: the first more exuberantly so, and probably because of its exu-
berance the more charming of the two. Roberto Pane has pointed out that
the two Baroque wings show an affinity to the work ofPietro da Cortona
or Borromini and a break away from the Renaissance tradition which
Bernini usually followed.^^ It would seem that his first impulse upon re-
ceiving an invitation from the greatest sovereign of the age, was to send
back som.ething quite exceptionalsomething which without denying his
own individuahty would be a quintessence of his grandest manner. He
would offer to the French king a creation in the Roman style which he
had not even been able to achieve in Rome.
But before going on with the story we might stop and ask whether the 115
whole of Bernini's visit to Paris and in particular his plans for rebuilding
the Louvre were not really attempts to square the circle. The French were
quite definite on two things: the main entrance to the Louvre should be
from the Saint-Germain side and this facade must be the most imposing
and beautiful. It then naturally followed that the royal suite must be there
as well. There was both an aesthetic and a practical problem to be solved.
Bernini, with the superb decorations of his first plan had tackled the for-
mer, but the question of accommodation remained. The fact that the
grand facade faced east was a constantly adverse factor, for the wing facing
the Seine was incomparably better ht and more healthy, and the royal
apartments had been estabhshed there already since 1665. The east wing,
running straight into the city, would also raise many problems of security
if the King were to move liis quarters.^^ One would have thought this
would have been recognized and dealt with, and it would surely have been
possible to make the principal facade as beautiful and ornamental as pos-
sible, yet stiU leave the royal quarters where they were, airy and sunny,
with a view across the garden to the busy river, and above aU, with better
guarantees ofsecurity. As we shaU see the question ofthe royal apartments
played a decisive part in the discussions which raged over the plans that
Bernini brought with him to Paris, and it had not even been solved when
Perrault's design for a colonnade was accepted
[94]
. Then having wasted so
much time and so many opportunities, everyone reluctantly admitted
what should have been evident from the start. The royal quarters remained
in the central wing.^^ Le Vau had, in order to make them more comfort-
able, to double their size, and planned a new facade which this time would
be suitable for thefagade d'honneur.^^
So it was that Louis XIV, who had left to Hve at the Tuileries while the
Louvre was being finished, came back to find it stiU uncompleted. He then
decided definitely to remove himselfand his Court to Versailles.
It was only in
1789
that the Paris mob forced their king to take up his
residence in the city again and Hve in the Tuileries, the last stage before the
Temple and the scaffold. Napoleon the Great, the restored Bourbons, and
the second Emperor all Uved at the Tuileries in the days of their glory or
decline, but no French sovereign nor any President ever took up residence
in that east wing ofthe Louvre which had caused such a controversy over
styles and which boasted so lovely a colonnade.
It was at the end ofApril 1665 that Bernini set out from Rome, taking with
him his pupils Matteo de Rossi and
Juho,
and his son Paulo who was then
eighteen. The journey over the Alps, by river and by road, took up the
whole ofMay when the weather was already getting hot. Orders had been
given by Louis XIV that at each halting stage every possible comfort
should be provided and that the traveller should be welcomed with
honours even greater than those normally given to princes. Indeed
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
ii6 the King had the whim of treating 'the King ofArt' aknost as an equal.
On 2nd June,
several leagues from the capital, Bernini's carriage was
met by one bearing an envoy of the King who was commissioned to wel-
come him. This was Paul Freart de Chantelou, head of the King's House-
hold, who was practically seconded to Bernini throughout his stay, visiting
him every day, and trying to smooth away the smallest difficulties. Chan-
telou has left a record
the Journal
dii sejour du Berniti en France, dedicated
to his elder brother
Jean
which is offirst class importance. It has been the
source of the most malevolent stories about Bernini's vanity, his moodi-
ness, and sudden outbursts of temper, but if the book is read as a whole
Bernini comes out ofit very well and it is a distortion just to pick out cer-
tain passages.-^*
Bernini was a httle over sixty-seven when he set off for France, which
then was looked on as a very considerable age, but he was to Hve on for
another fifteen years and never experience decline, and on this visit to
Paris he was both physically and mentally in his prime. He walked round
the city with an energy that would have done credit to a man twenty or
even thirty years younger. The diary kept by Chantelou also makes it clear
that during the five months he spent in Paris, Bernini achieved quite an as-
tonishing amount of work, for on top of the actual creative work he pro-
duced, he had to cope with innumerable difficulties: difficulties of lan-
guage, of getting on with the great court personages, the innumerable
visits and receptions, the never-ending discussions of trivial and irritating
detail, which he was not accustomed to, and fmally the shame of finding
that, perhaps on the same day that he had been praised to the skies, he had
also been the object of boundless chicanery. A portrait ofhim was painted
by Baciccio very shortly before, and an engraving of it made by Van
Westerhout is the frontispiece of the
Life
of
Bernini by Baldinucci.^^ The
impression of vitahty and integrity is striking. The majestic head framed
by long white hair, now receding a little, the burning and intelligent dark
eyes beneath the thick white eyebrows, the almost vibrant hps, all seem
to convey that ardent temperament that Chantelou mentions, and which
inspires both affection and respect. This ageing Itahan could be quite
enchanting still, even though his foreign manners aroused stupid
sniggers among the courtiers, which he caught so aptly in one of his
caricatures.-"^
When he arrived in Paris he was lodged in a mansion adjacent to the
Louvre, and two days later, on the feast of Corpus Christi, he was taken
to Saint-Germain to be presented to the King. He and Louis XIV tried to
out-rival each other in comphments, and Bernini called upon gestures to
back up his eloquence. The words he actually uttered we know from
Chantelou, but one must not forget that when Bernini talked his sensitive
hands, the whole of liis body, and every expression of his face counted as
much as liis tongue.
'I have seen, Sire,' he said 'palaces of Emperors and Popes, and on my
journey hither those of reigning sovereigns which arc to be seen on the
117
road from Rome to Paris, but for a King of France, we must construct
something more magnificent.' And turning to the courtiers he added a
phrase that became famous, 'Let no one talk to me of petty things.' On
that occasion too Louis XIV declared that *it would please him ifthe build-
ings of liis ancestors could be preserved, but if it were necessary to pull
them down to make a grand building, he would let them go. And money
was no object',^'
Bernini set to work at once. He thought that it would be best to level
everything and make a new start, but from several sides he was advised to
be more accommodating.^^ Colbert wrote to liim, 'Though expense should
not be considered when beauty or comfort is essentially involved, never-
theless when a large outlay would add Httle to beauty or comfort one
expects this to be taken into consideration by a great architect.'^^
On 19th
June,
Bernini submitted his plans to Colbert, and the next day
showed them to Louis XIV. His first thoughts were to raise the palace on a
foundation of rocks, but he thought this would be too daring an innova-
tion for the French and made an overlay which showed the lower storey
carried out in the more conventional rustication. The first moment, how-
ever, that Louis XIV saw the plan, he declared that the rock foundation
was preferable to rustication. Bernini showed his surprise and delight at
this, loudly proclaiming that His Majesty had so fine and dehcate a taste
that few professional architects could rival him.^*^ After this royal audience,
Bernini went to pray with such zealous thanksgiving that he prostrated
himself again and again. That day the King ordered Bernini to make a bust
ofhim.
But Colbert still had his doubts. He feared that, if the royal apartments
were to be in the pavilion near Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, the noise from
the harbourage of I'Ecole would be a nuisance. Then the lodges and the
columns of the vestibule would provide ideal hide-outs for possible assas-
sins.^-"^ Nor did Colbert have any illusions about the way courtiers behaved.
Whether from the first or top storey, nothing would ever stop them from
emptying their chamber pots out of their windows into the moat, and if
the base of the Louvre was compiled ofrocks, this filth might be scattered
on them with noisome results.
At the beginning of
July
Bernini had designed the facade of the kitchen
court, wliich Colbert criticized as being so tall that it would detract from
the grandeur of the Great Gallery which adjoined it. Bernini retorted that
it was only what he was planning to do in the Piazza of St Peter's, which
would, by keeping the colonnade sHghtly lower than the facade o the
basiUca, enhance its height.^^ He then went on to expound one of his pet
themes: that architecture should reflect the proportions ofthe human body.
The central piece should be Hke a head dominating a body. Later on
Colbert began to wonder if Bernini's plans would not involve the pulling
down ofeverything between the Louvre and the church ofSaint-Germain-
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
ii8 I'Auxerrois. Bernini reassured him. Gesticulating, taking a piece of chalk
and roughing out his plans on a pavement, Bernini showed that all he
wanted was a square in front of the Louvre and a road leading up to the
main entrance. The church was to remain untouched and would, indeed,
take up one side of the street. But a fortnight later Colbert again joined
battle. He said that everything on both sides ofthe Rue des Pouhes would
have to be pulled down, and the expense would be so enormous that the
whole plan would be set back several years. Colbert also pointed out that
it would take several years to get rid ofthe tenants and that 'you can't just
throw people out overnight. He had no idea of what they did in Rome,
but it was not usual in France'.
^^
From tliis moment on Bernini was convinced that Louis XIV would be
displeased to see that the buildings that his ancestors had erected were to be
pulled down, so he set to work on a plan which left nearly the whole of
the existing work still standing but would still be 'a palace that would be
beautiful for its richness and grandeur and inspiration. I who am lowly
should have Httle opinion ofmy work but that I appreciate that it is due to
the gifts with which God has endowed me',^* he wrote to the Duke of
Modena. But at least he was determined not to have the great courtyard
in the form ofa square such as Le Vau had planned and for which founda-
tions had been commenced on the east side. He wished to make the court-
yard more long than broad and this was another thing to worry Colbert,
who could not see how it would be possible to keep the wings already
built since the main pieces and the domes would no longer be the central
piece.^^ Though Colbert raised objections at every turn, he never stopped
asking Bernini for his ideas for other buildings; a stone bridge from the
southern pavilion to the left bank (now the Passerelle des Arts); a large
square on the other side of the bridge that might be suitable for pubHc
shows, and at its centre should have a monument to the glorification of
Louis XrV, and also large buildings to house the gendarmes, musketeers,
and royal guards. He raised the questions of laying out the space between
the Louvre and the Tuileries; of the right place to erect an obehsk or a
column, and of a grand chapel behind the Abbey of Saint-Denis which
would be suitable for monuments to the Bourbon kings. He was too much
ofan economist to imagine that all these plans conld be carried out straight
away; he was talking in terms of twenty or thirty years. It meant that
Colbert was taking advantage of the presence in Paris of the greatest con-
temporary architect to draw up plans for an entirely new city full of mar-
vels that would completely supersede the old city, still medieval and rustic,
which Bernini saw. But if the schemes for the Louvre had appeared so
disappointing to Colbert one wonders why he should have asked Bernini
for so many other plans. Still, even the talk of them aroused hvely and
justified apprehension amongst the French architects. Whoever had been
in Le Van's shoes would have had to cope with the same chaos: not only
were his own plans for the Louvre to be discarded, but even what had been
/././-/. S.' I Pl..^
"ÎÊSiRl
o
83
Lc Van's elevation tor the Lonvre extended the royal residence to the east. He
bnilt a replica ot the King's pavilion and Lescot's wing, and placed a colossal
forepart in the centre
84
'
F-'
Bernini's plan for the First Project for the Louvre. The conception is striking: it
shows an originahty that no other contemporary French or Itahan project
offered
r,
*
*
\i
I
^^Kj^j^
85
Bernini's elevation for the First Project for the Louvre. On the east front, at
either end, are two staircases in square towers
'/t- AtHrtv t/n ChajUaa du Uruurt /ft icju dt tf' (êrtnîin ifti tit.j,',-mtj Mi Cau.ilur l\frnii
4J:4îii
J
^---LXja.
X,lJ-JUÛ.JJ.iJ-J-iJ:
86 Bernini's elevation for the Final Project for the Louvre. The east front forms the
main entrance. In the centre of the projecting ground floor are three great
arched doors, the tallest flanked by two statues of Hercules. The design is
crowned with an imposing cornice surmounted by a balustrade and a row of
statues
|il:i|:;i
^-
87
Bernini's elevation for the Final Project for the Louvre. The south front, as
engraved by Marot, shows the grandiose proportions and the skill with which
Bernini resolved the problems of linking the various elements
Bernini's Final Project for the Louvre, showing, on the north side, the great
oval chapel he had attached to the palace
^
88
TH i I
"W" "fmtar
89
By the end of
July 1665 the model tor Bernini's bust ot Louis XIV was readv.
The courtiers gathered round to admire it. 'Don't do anything more to it.' said
one, 'it is so good I am afraid you might spoil it'
Until his death in 1683, Colbert,
portrayed here by Lefebvre, was
an indefatigable servant of the King
and contributed much towards the
better management of the State. He
appreciated Bernini's work but at
the same time did not regard him as
suiîciently amenable, and took
fright at the enormous expense his
projects entailed
90
Bernini wanted the composition of
his equestrian statue of Louis XIV
to lead the eye upwards: the horse
rears, paws the air, strains to jump
an obstacle. After Girardon's re-
modelling the statue became a rep-
resentation of Marcus Curtius plun-
ging into the fiery abyss
4(
^
^-^.f
r
^
92
Bernini put six columns on an oval plan round the high altar, and topped each
column with a giltwood angel bv Michel-Anguier in his baldacchino tor the
Chapel of the Val de Grace
:-^
M.
Bernini, an incomparablcportraitist,
has left several self-portraits which
have made us familiar with his regu-
lar features and the burning inten-
sity of his expression
93
Perrault's colonnade for the Louvre
has become an essential part of Paris
and a model of classical grandeur
built was to be demolished. The south wing and, should there be a large 119
square, the Pavilion of the Four Nations would also have to go. There
were also cabalsand surely this was not only pecuHar to the seventeenth
centurybetween men of the same profession. During August the French
architects thought up and elaborated new plans for the Louvre which they
hoped to put forward against Bernini's. It was perhaps a little naive on his
part to say, at the beginning of September, that his French colleagues
should not wish him any ill for if, for instance, the Pope wished for a
French building, His Holiness would undoubtedly summon a French archi-
tect to Rome.
Bernini, though every hour seemed to be taken up in his work, some-
how managed to visit the capital; he was not often pleased with what he
saw. To imagine that he criticized Parisian buildings for their simpHcity,
symmetry or classical quaUties is to get an entirely wrong impression of
his taste. What shocked him were certain irregular features, illogicahties,
traces of Gothicism, or of the Fontainebleau Renaissance style. In his
opinion the most successful monument in Paris was the Church of the
Novitiate, which had been inspired by Giacomo della Porta; on the other
hand he approved of Chantelou's criticism of the Baroque but Flemish
style of the Jesuit college chapel. The Tuileries, which Le Vau was tr^'ing
to lay out for the royal family to inhabit while the Louvre was being re-
modelled, appeared to him as a pretentious trifle. The ItaHan dome of the
Val-de-Grace was described as too small a skuU cap for so large a head. The
tombs of Saint-Denis left him cold. But what really took Bernini aback
were the huge roofs and tall chimneys which he saw on every side. Since
he was in Paris in summerthat year it was a very warm summerhe
never understood that the sloping roof had been evolved because of the
cUmate nor that the decorated cliimney had been designed to obviate the
appearance of necessary but hideous pipes spouting haphazardly from a
building. Ks explanation was that the French had become used to higher
and higher roofs, like a man who accustoms himselfto drinking colder and
colder water until he makes himselfill by swallowing ice. Thus, looking at
the roofmg, according to him, one only found 'horrid deformity'. There
was nothing very wrong in this, nor was it surprising that a foreigner
should be struck by it, but it was only too easy to exaggerate and criticize
what Bernini said and make him out as a conceited ass who ran down
everything he came across. 'If only,' groaned Colbert, 'he would spare
others a Httle.' Louis XIV, more cautious, merely remarked, 'He doesn^t
praise many things.'
The commission ofa bust meant that he often had to meet the King
[89].
Instead of asking his model to keep still Bernini begged him, on the con-
trary, to move about just as he wished. He himself followed him about,
sketching down characteristic attitudes and, in order to see the King from
all angles, bending down and twisting himselfinto every imaginable con-
tortion, gesticulating as only an ItaHan could. It made the courtiers laugh
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
120 at him, but he himself was so carried away by his work that he seemed
quite obhvious of their mockery.
Louis XIV could speak a httle Itahan himself and we have one record of
him jokiQg with Bernini. It was when the artist was making a sketch at
the derobing. 'I am now about to steal' ('Sto rubando'), he said. The King
in his most gracious manner rephed 'Ah, but only to give back' ('Si, ma e
per restituere'). 'Perhaps I shall not give back as much as I've taken' ('Pero
per restituers meno del rubato'), said Bernini. Their relationship could not
have been more amiable.
At the end of
July
the model of the bust was ready and the courtiers
flocked to admire it. 'Don't touch it,' Madame de Lionne said, 'it is so good
I'm terrified you might spoil it.' But Bernini, who was always seeking
perfection, went on working at it for two more months.
Then Monsieur, the King's brother, asked him to design a fountain for
his palace at Saint-Cloud, and Bernini, who adored work of this sort,
thought of creating something that would combine naturahsm and gran-
deur, since he thought the French way of dealing with ornamental waters
was as petty and fiddhng as httle bits of fancy work done by nuns.^^
In August, chiefly to get away from importunate visitors, Bernini
moved into Mazarin's mansion. At the end of the month he was asked if
he would attend a weekly meeting where all details of construction, etc,
might be discussed. They were to be held each Sunday and attended by
Colbert, Chantelou and his brother Freart de Chambray, Perrault, Madrot
(inspector ofworks), Maizieres (contractor for the Louvre), la Motte (in-
spector of the royal buildings) Bergeron (master mason) and du Metz
(keeper of the King's furniture). The whole idea of these meetings was
odious to Bernini, and he said that in Rome no one would have thought of
asking him to descend to such petty detail, and 'that he had high ranking
clerics to look after practical problems which were necessary for carrying
out his ideas'.^' He was most annoyed when the committee detained him
to argue about exactly where the cisterns or the lavatories should be
placed, suggesting the latter should be at the top of the staircases. They
argued that since the smell would rise the lavatories would cause incon-
venience if placed lower down. Yet when he got back to his rooms, he
carefully noted down all the objections which had been brought up. Most
of September went by in this way, but by the 20th the designs were so far
advanced that they could be engraved and Bernini asked whom he should
send them to. He was advised to employ
Jean
Marot, who in a few days
turned out plates which are distinguished by their artistic skill and pre-
cision. They are included in his Recucil de VArchitecture franâise
[87].
This plan for the Louvre was henceforth looked on as definitive. The
engraver
Jean
Varin struck a medal showing the main facade of the new
palace.^^ On 17th October, in the presence of the King, the foundation
stone was solemnly laid. Work was then commenced on foundations near
to those which had ahcady been prepared by Le Vau on the eastern side. 121
But Bernini's ideas were on a huge scale and, had they been carried out,
the eastern wing of the palace would have been much nearer to Saint-
Germain than the present day colonnade. All the space now taken up by
the lawns that replace the old moat, the raihngs, and the pavement would
have come within the precincts of the new palace. There would have been
a space between the palace and the church, but people were beginning to
wonder whether it would be great enough to allow the spectator to get
far enough away to see the palace in its true perspective or be an adequate
approach.
To get an idea ofwhat this superb palace would have been like, we must
turn first to the plates engraved by Marot, though the medal by Varin
adds a httle to our knowledge. Other sources which have recently come
to Hght and are almost as valuable are designs preserved in the Stockholm
museum, which have been annotated by Mr Josephson, and those dis-
covered by M. Hautecoeur in the portfolios ofthe Louvre. From these one
can reconstruct Bernini's plans. They were so advanced that work could
be commenced and he himself could leave France, thinking his task had
been successfully completed. At the same time one can see several things
that eventually led to the final collapse of this magnificent project.
The five prints in Marot's Recueil show the ground-plan of the palace,
the east facade which was to be the main entrance, part of the great court-
yard, the lateral facade, and the facade facing the TuUeries. The whole
impression is of a building which in its size alone was something quite
novel. The ground-plan shows us that the palace was to be surrounded by
moats on every side, that on the eastern side being the broadest, in keeping
with the main entrance and the most elaborate of the facades. The wing
had a depth oftwo rooms, but the rooms at the back did not face on to the
great courtyard: they looked out on two small courtyards which were
divided by a huge colonnaded peristyle which connected the bridge over
the moat directly with the great courtyard. This itself was square, but at
each corner Bernini had placed httle paviUons to house the staircases, and
this gave the courtyard the appearance ofa Greek cross. All four sides were
decorated by two storeys of loggias, which ran quite close to the north,
south and west wings, while on the east they formed a decorative arcade
between the two small courtyards and the great courtyard. Beyond the
west wing this design is repeated and we fmd two lateral courtyards
divided by a peristyle before we come to the outer west wing facing to-
ward the Tuileries. When one begins to study the elevations one sees that
the main facade rises sheer from the rock-hke foundation and consists of a
large central pavihon, flanked by two more pavilions set back, and ter-
minating with two comer pavilions advanced to the ahgnment of the
central one. There are three storeys. The ground floor is rusticated and, in
the centre, pierced by three large arched portals. The tallest of them is
flanked by two statues of Hercules.^^ Then come two more storeys. The
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
122 whole is crowned by a bold cornice, with a balustrade and a row ofstatues.
The central pavilion is of colossal order: gigantic Corinthian columns
spring up from the foundations to the entablature and afford a strong rehef
to the whole building. To emphasize the effect, the two paviHons which
stand back are only decorated by the pediments of the windows, and the
terminal paviHons have only simple pilasters. It gives an impression of
grandeurlogical, regular and serene, and perhaps shghtly cold, since the
stretches of plain wall play an important part in the design. If through
laziness one has ever been inclined to think of the Baroque as a matter of
contorted and curved lines, here is the most emphatic denial. But, both in
conception and in detail, this new Louvre had nothing in common with
French architecture: it is without a shadow of a doubt an Italian, one
might even say a Roman palace. The extraordinary rock-like base sur-
mounted by rustication, the absence ofany visible roof, the line ofstatues,
the relatively small windows, the great stretches of wall which (though in
Paris, and facing east!) seem to call for brilUant sunshine, aU are a complete
break with French tradition.^^ In the courtyard the equally ItaHanate gal-
leries serve no useful purpose, though they constitute a most decorative
veneer. This arcading is echoed in the wing facing the Tuileries, though it
is not a copy and the effect is less solemn
[87].
Personally I think it a grave mistake to imagine that the whole of Ber-
nini's plans were expected to be carried out at one go. We have too few
documents to be certain. It could well be that the plates engraved by
Marot merely show the ideal, the picture of what might, given the will
and the means, be made of the Louvre. In October 1665, the government
accepted the plans, though it had not decided to go ahead with them en-
tirely as they were.
One surprising thing when looking at Marot's prints is that, although
Bernini had been protesting, ever since
July,
that he was going to conserve
much of the older building, we seem to be looking at an entirely new
palace. Large areas of the palace are new, but a careful examination does
show that parts of the old Louvre are still there; for example behind the
galleries ofthe courtyard there stiU remain the buildings erected by Lescot
and Lemercier. Then one can trace some of Le Van's work in the lateral
facade, much heightened and transformed, and no longer with its columns,
dome or chimneys. But what was the attic of the earlier work can now
only be seen in that curious suite of small windows between the first and
second storeys.
The plan in the Louvre collection gives us more to go on
[88].
It is car-
ried out in two different inks. The hghter, a blue ink, has been used to
indicate the parts of the older building which were to be preserved. It
shows us what had been the work ofLescot, Lemercier and Le Vau, There
is one feature in tliis plan, however, of which there is not the sHghtest
trace in Marot's engravings. It is a large oval building near the present Rue
de RivoH and running up to the place where the Magasins du Louvre now
Stand. It is attached to the new buildings by what looks Hke a stem, giving
123
access to the second facade on the Tuilcries side. At first sight one might
wonder if this were an earHer project which Bernini scrapped before send-
ing off his fmal plans to Marot, or if it were a later addition. Luckily we
know for certain that it was an addition. This oval building was to
have been a chapel and Chantelou has given us the story of its stormy
origin.
The day after the foundation stone had been solemnly laid on 17th
October, Colbert went to see Bernini. He said that the position which had
been decided on for the chapel in the north of the Louvre did not please
him at all, since the King and court would find it difficult to reach it, and
that sometliing else must be found. The question ofthe chapel had already
been discussed many times. It was supposed to serve the dual function of a
private royal chapel and a parish church. Bernini had already been asked to
change its site over and over again. This time he lost his temper. He replied
to Colbert with considerable spirit that 'no one can do a thing and not do
it; it was something to have managed to solve the problem ofplacing the
grand staircases where they would not interrupt the great sweep of the
noble plan of the Louvre by siting them at the four corners of the court-
yard. But to build a chapel as big as a church in a place accessible to the
public but still private to the King, who should be able to get there without
going through the quarter where it was built was quite impossible, at least
he didn't know how and he had done what he did know.'^^
When Colbert had gone away, very discontented, and Bernini was left
alone with Chantelou, he burst out much more violently. He shouted that
Colbert 'treated him hke a child . . . that he tried to make himselfout to be
a know-all and knew nothing . . . that he was a proper c
!'
A shocking
phrase to use, no doubt, but surely not a very rare or serious crime to use a
vivid word about a great personage who had come to cavil at plans which
everyone had thought fmally settled.
However, this tirade led to nothing serious. Bernini was soothed by
Chantelou. Though still grumbling, he went back to work once more
through the night. The next day he was able to greet Colbert with a smile
and inform him that he had found the solution ofthe problem and the site
for a church that could hold a congregation as big as any accommodated
in the Pantheon.^^ Smce it was to be a perfect oval, it could not be more
elegant. It would be more superb than anytliing yet seen, for the main
pillars would be encased in the most beautiful red and white marble that
France could produce. The capitals would be of Carrara marble which
would be sent, already carved, from Italy. The pillars ofthe gallery would
be bronze with gilded capitals. And this chapel, placed on the Saint-
Honore side, could be reached by the King from his o\vn suite. It could
also be approached from the galleries. Colbert said these arrangements
were absolutely to his taste, and one may surmise that Bernini gave him
some sketches and that the minister, either that day or the next, passed on
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
124 the one which we now see in the Louvre with the chapel drawn to scale
with the main design.
Bernini left Paris on 20th October. He went on completing or altering
his plans until the very last moment and the 'final' design that had
been engraved by Marot did not mean that it might not have been
modified.
His departure was marked by every possible show of esteem. Already,
when on 5th October he had presented the fmished bust to the King,
Louis XIV had showered praises on him.^^ He rephed that he also had
thought it had been a great success; at any rate he had worked on it with
such enthusiasm that he beheved it to be the least bad portrait that had left
his hands, that he was sorry that he must return and would have been
happy to spend the rest ofhis hfe in the King's service 'not because he was
King of France, and a great sovereign, but because he had learnt that His
Majesty's spirit was even more exalted than his rank'. But here Bernini
could not go on and began to weep.^^
During their last interview, Colbert said, 'Monsieur, it is to be hoped
that you have enough love for your work to let us hope that, in a year or
two, you will wish to come to see the Louvre.' He repeated that Paulo
Bernini, whose talents as a sculptor they so much appreciated, must come
back to Paris, and they would make a Frenchman of him. The King sent
Bernini a present of 10,000 golden ecus. He promised him, in addition, a
pension of 6,000 hvres, and one of 1,200 hvres for his son. Also Bernini's
staff were rewarded: Mathias de Rossi and
Juho,
Barbaret, who had acted
as interpreter with the thankless task of translating into Itahan ah the
criticisms made against Bernini's work, and also Signor Mancini who was
his travelling companion.^^ Mathias de Rossi said he would return next
winter, when he had finished the models for the sculptures and cleared up
aU the details about accommodation in the palace. Unless one is determined
to think that all these things were a pohte court comedy, that the laying
of the foundation stone itself was a farce, it is difficult to beheve that, as
Bernini left for Rome, aU his plans had been soundly and thoroughly
damned.
There are many reasons why this seems improbable, and foremost amongst
them were Colbert's intentions. Bernini and he had been at loggerheads
over and over again. The minister, with an eye on everything, proved to
be a tyrant, but he had never lost his respect for the genius of the archi-
tect.^ The bmlding of the Louvre appeared to him to be a matter of
national importance above allone might almost say that it was an in-
tegral part of his conception of the monarchy. The King should exert
himself to the utmost to have the most beautiful palace in the world,
where he might five amongst his people. It should be a tangible sign ofhis
glory. The work on the Tuileries was only to make somewhere habitable
while the Louvre was being built. Saint-Germain was only a summer
residence. And as for Versailles . . . ! Colbert's remarks about this arc often 125
quoted to denigrate Louis XIV.
'Your Majesty knows that in default ofresounding victories on the field,
nothing can add a greater glory to a prince than buildings and that all
posterity will judge them by one of those great mansions which they have
constructed during their lifetime. What a pity it is that the greatest and
most virtuous of kings, of a virtue that makes the greatest princes, is con-
fined to that one at Versailles ! And yet, nevertheless, one has grounds for
fearing such a misfortune.'^' But not enough notice has been given to the
fact that this was sent, in writing, to the King on 22nd September 1665,
that is at the same time that Marot was just completing his engravings of
Bernini's 'definitive' plans. Louis XIV had then by no means given up the
idea of the Louvre, but without any thought of money he was running
up vast expenses for something which, as far as Colbert could see, might
add possibly to his pleasure, but nothing to his renown. While Louis XIV
was behaving as though the Treasury funds were inexhaustible, Colbert,
who knew they were not, had made his decisioneverything should be
subordinated to the completion of the Louvre. He had faith enough in
French architects, but he held, as did the whole of contemporary Europe,
that Bernini was the true successor ofMichelangelo. It had become a tenet
of his pohtical faith that the artist who had been asked by the Popes to
complete the most beautiful church in Christendom, was the only one to
build the most beautiful palace in the world in Paris to the greater glory of
the King of France.^^ If one cannot understand this attitude, this longing
for grandeur and prestige, one camiot really understand Colbert. Bernini
himself perhaps never realized this aspect of Colbert, or perhaps it was
in bad temper that he could only recall 'whole committees pettifogging
about privies or pipes'. He had lost sight ofthe minister who so wished for
something perfect, but something which must be perfect in every detail.
There was also another reason why Colbert was on Bernini's side. He
wished to found an academy in Rome where young French artists could
carry out their studies, not independently (as Poussin or Lorrain had
done), but as well disciplined and well looked-after pupils. He thought
that the Head of the Academy should be Errard, but hoped that Bernini
might be some sort of Inspector-General. The pension that had been
given by Louis could then be looked on, not just as an honorary gift, but
as a wage for continued services.
We can say, at the least, that when Bernini left Paris his plan for the
Louvre had not been rejected. By this time the French architects were fully
aware of the challenge they faced, and had also had time to find out the
weaknesses in Bernini's plan.^^ Perrault in particular was in a very strong
position to criticize, since he had had to interview Berniniand the inter-
views were often stormyabout the modifications demanded by Colbert,
and had also been in touch with Mathias de Rossi about specifications.
The French had always disliked the plan for its theatricahty and they
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
126 looked on Bernini as a stage designer rather than an architect. Their criti-
cism was inspired by a fundamentally different outlook and conception of
architecture. They found fault with the proportions of the Corinthian
order, the smallness of the windows, and the central feature. They found
the eastern fagade rather bare and were quick to notice that the lateral
facade was a compromise which lacked regularity and autonomy.
One person in whom Colbert had great confidence was Le Brun. It was
unfortunate that when Bernini met him in Paris he detested him almost as
much as he had previously detested Borromini in Rome. So once Bernini
had left, it is easy enough to imagine Colbert hstening to his friends and
cronies saying everything bad they could about the work and the man
both as an artist and as a person. Colbert himself probably remembered
how much he had disliked his manner of 'never sparing another' and his
'rather hot temperament'. None the less he pressed Matliias de Rossi to
come to Paris to carry out scale models in wood and stucco and see about
the interior decorations. Rossi arrived back in Paris in May 1666, and
began work, but Colbert seemed in no great haste to visit him and very
soon the Itahan heard rumours that Bernini's plan would never be carried
out.^^ Yet even on 31st December 1666 Colbert was writing to Bernini
that the Tuileries had been fitted out so that the King could hve there and
that they could now go ahead with the 'Great Design' for the Louvre. And
in the same letter he again asks that Paulo Bernini might come to France,
where he could be found a match that would be worthy ofhis position and
talents.^
The models made by Mathias de Rossi have long since disappeared,
though some trace ofthem has been preserved in a very roundabout way.
At the end of the seventeenth century, in
1695
to be exact, the Swedish
architect, Tessin the Younger, who was a passionate admirer of Bernini,
asked his compatriot Cronstrom to search Paris for these models by Rossi.
Cronstrom found one in the studio of Coypel the Elder and made three
sketches from it. They were ofdetails, and probably in answer to particular
questions put by Cronstrom. These wash drawings are still preserved in
the museum at Stockholm, and have been reproduced in an article by
Ragnar Josephson in the Gazette des Beaux ArtsJ^^ He fmds quite recogniz-
able differences between them and the Marot plates, and is inclined to
think that Bernini had taken note of some French criticisms and modified
the 'fmal' plan to meet French taste. The eastern facade in the Marot en-
graving shows that the proportion ofheight to breadth is one to four, but
in the sketch done from Rossi's model, this is one to five, which gives the
front a much less massive appearance. A composite order has taken the
place of the Corinthian; the windows are now more heavily decorated,
with consoles alleviating the austere elegance of the original fenestration
which the French had always criticized as being out of keeping with the
grand scale of the building.
At the beginning of 1667 Colbert paid a visit to Rossi's studio, and com-
plained that he could not always decide where the royal residence would
127
be. On nth March he wrote to Bernini that they were going to 'forge
ahead in good earnest with the grand and superb building of the Louvre
and Signor Mathias will consult with you about any doubts or difficulties
which may arise'. But on 15th May, Colbert sent off another, rather em-
barrassed, letter to Bernini to say that the King was not going to carry out
his plan but had decided to go on with the designs wliich had been begun
by the earlier architects.'*^ The excuse given was that no one could tell how
long the War of the Spanish Succession would last. Nevertheless Colbert
added that one day he hoped to take up Bernini's plans again. He even
begged him to come back to Paris to choose a new site for a palace and
supervise the work. Such a hope was hardly hkely to be reaUzed, for by
now Bernini was seventy. Also, if it were possible, as they said, to make
the Louvre ready for the King within three years, why construct another
palace which, having to be built from scratch, would be even more ex-
pensive? And why should the King have a third residence in Paris, which
would lack all the traditional prestige of the Louvre?
This time it meant that Bernini's plans were killed stone dead. What
Colbert said in his letter could have been forecast ever since a select com-
mittee had met in April, consisting of Charles Perrault, Le Vau, Le Brun,
Perrault's brother and a doctor called Claude, who was an amateur archi-
tect. They were asked for new plans for the palace, and several came up
for consideration. The one finally chosen incorporated the colormade, and
work was put in hand in 1668. The work was supervised by Orbay and by
Claude Perrault himself.
Why this change took place is still a matter of dispute. Some maintain
that it was only on aesthetic grounds:** that Bernini's ideas were quite
incompatible with French taste. If so, it took Colbert two years to recog-
nize this, or perhaps it was that he eventually gave in to the critics from
sheer weariness. They claimed that Bernini's visit to Paris resulted in a de-
cisive rejection ofBaroque, and that the French solemnly chose the classical
style which can be seen in the colonnade by Perrault
[94],
or in Mansart's
work at Versailles. Another school insists that Bernini's visit influ-
enced French arcliitects more than one might suppose, that the work of
Le Vau at Versailles is curiously reminiscent of the ItaHan architect and
that even his colonnade echoes Bernini's style. It is true that the ItaHan
plans showed columns and not a colonnade, but the hidden sloping roofs
are definitely one feature that Bernini had suggested. One may well ask
whether 'Perrault's plan were not influenced by the Itahan plan and that
the French architect was, at least partly, guided by the work which had
been done by his rival who had been sent away'.*^ In fact, was it not a
victory ofFrench architects over a foreigner, and a question ofpersonahties
rather than of styles?
Then there is another theory. Obviously the King's word was final, but
he was very much swayed by other peoplein the first place by Colbert,
K
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
128 but one also comes across the names of Louvois, Le Tellier, and indeed
the Duchesse de La VaUiere. M. Esmonin thinks that the models made by
Rossi were a disappointment and that when Bernini let him return to
Paris, he proved incapable of carrying out the work.*^
There were, doubtless, very many factors that led to the final decision
not to carry through Bernini's design, and one may well wonder if the
most important of these was not the question of expense wliich Colbert
put forward, even when making false promises, Bernini's plan was very
grand, and it was very costly.*' The sheer scale ofit, the amount ofmaterial
needed, the labour to be employed, the number of statues ordered, added
up to a sum that had never been defmitely worked out. On top of this,
buildings and lands between the Louvre and the Tuileries or Saint-Ger-
main would have to be bought out. The question was whether the Treas-
ury could possibly afford it, and quite obviously they could not. To carry
out the plans would have meant economies in many other directions, and
Louis XrV, far from giving up the idea of building Versailles, went on
with that and was insistent on other new buildings as well. The economic
situation was becoming worse and the pohtical outlook even more diffi-
cult. Finally, after a peace lasting eight years, war broke out again.
It was obvious that it would cost infinitely less to complete the main
quadrangle of the Louvre than to extend the palace toward the Tmleries
and Saint-Germain. Also, if the King was to take up residence in the
Louvre permanently there was much to be said for a plan that could be
carried out in two or three years instead of choosing one which might
well, because of its very size, be held up by interminable delays or be
stopped altogether by lack of funds.
One other thing cannot be ignoredthe fact that there were many pre-
eminent French architects who had been asked to tackle this same problem
of the Louvre. There is httle point in discussing whether they were,
reasonably or unreasonably, jealous of Bernini, and even less point in
arguing whether they could do something better or merely something
different than he. By 1667 the only question was if they were capable of
producing something, something worthy of the King. To understand
what happened one must remember that, purely from a practical point of
view, the authorities decided that they could not raise the money to carry
out the designs of Bernini, however much thought, care and expense had
already been spent on them; that they had to make the Louvre habitable
for the King, and that there were capable architects in Paris.
The fmal solution had obviously to be more modest than the original
plan to build the greatest palace in Europe by the greatest arcliitect. But,
given the circumstances, it was probably the best that could be done. It
was, if one likes to look at it that way, a victory of commonsense over
imagination, and only because of this are quahties usually called classical
predominant over those called Baroque. It is quite wrong to talk of a vic-
tory of the classicists over the upholders of the Baroque taste.
Both Le Vau and Le Brun were Italianate in their ideas and it is ironic to
129
recall that Claude Perrault, who accused Bernini ofbeing more a decorator
than an architect, has been summed up in nearly the same words by M.
Hautecoeur.^^ In fact there was nothing except personal reasons to make
an unbridgeable gulf between Bernini and the Parisian arcliitects. They
were at one in disliking the work of Borromini.*^
But in France every trend was in favour ofan eventual victory ofClassi-
cism. In 1671 an Academy of Arcliitccturc was founded. The principles it
taught were probably most concisely summed up in the Cours d'Architec-
ture by Blondel.^^ There was nothing in this book which condemned
Bernini's workhe is in fact praised in itbut it looks back to Vitruvius
as the arbiter of taste and, hke Boileau in his Art poetique, lays stress on
reason and rule. Henceforward French architects thought in terms of
rationaUsm and of balance, and, at their best, did produce masterpeices in
the classical style.
Very probably this movement would have developed, even had Ber-
nini's plans for the Louvre been carried out. But had there been a great
Baroque palace in the centre ofParis, the seat of the 'Roi Soleil', visited by
every foreigner ofnote, it might, with its loggias and its oval chapel have
had a lasting effect on French architecture through its very presence. At
the very least it would have retarded and modified that revolt against
Itahan taste which had begun in 1665 and won its fmal victory fifteen
years later. Indeed, what is often but wrongly described as a mere check-
mate to Bernini had far-reaching effects on French civihzation and French
history. The outcome ofwhat one might describe as the cold war between
Louis XIV and Colbert (a defmite struggle which was never referred to
openly) was that the King, with his plans for a larger and grander Ver-
sailles, triumphed over Colbert, who wished the King to have a proper
residence in Paris. The issue at stake was, in fact, greater than the acceptance
or rejection of Bernini's plans. The fact that it was Baroque and had been
found fault with was of only secondary importance.
It was much rather symptomatic of the contradictory tendencies which
marked the whole reign ofLouis XIV; it recalls those which characterized
Spain under Charles Va desire to erect works of great magnificence to
give prestige and reflect the glories achieved by the monarch and also a
realization that there was not, after all, sufficient money to carry out the
work.
Bernini had nevertheless left some works in Paris. There was the design for
the baldacchino in the Val-de-Grace
[92]
. There was the bust ofLouis XIV,
executed in the 'grand manner' which Bernini had used ten years before
for the bust of Cardinal d'Este: but tliis is too facile a comparison. During
that decade he had achieved an added realism, and the later bust does
nothing to hide a shght lack ofsymmetry m the features of the King or to
disguise the greedy sensuahty which, at that time, was characteristic of
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
130
him
[89].
But the overriding impression is one ofnobihty, that you are in
the presence ofa great personagethe King ofFrance himself. The head so
proudly carried and the grave expression are both accentuated by the com-
plex of lines and planes which almost form a frame to the portraitthe
long curled wig, the lace of the cravat, the sweep of the sash which the
King wears over his right shoulder, rumpled and caught in. a breeze as it
comes down to half cover the pedestal, give a superb feeling of move-
ment. A bust is usually static, but this is more than a conventional bust: it
is the beginning of a statue in which the artist has expressed all the essen-
tials and asks the spectator to use his imagination to complete the whole.
One can even feel the wind; there is grandeur, animation, and movement,
and even if it had httle enough influence on French art, at least Versailles
seems the perfect setting for such a masterpiece.
It was such a popular success that Colbert may be excused for asking
Bernini to do an equestrian statue ofLouis, though only a fewweeks before,
he had written to teU him that the plan for the Louvre had been aban-
doned [pi].^-*^ Was this, one wonders, offered as a sop? It may have been,
but had France procured a masterpiece from Bernini the sculptor, it would
have mitigated the loss ofthe masterpiece ofBernini the architect that they
had rejected.
At this time, too, Bernini was extremely interested in trying to solve the
very difficult problems which an equestrian statue can present. He was
working on that ofthe Emperor Constantine for the vestibule ofSt Peter's.
By placing this against a huge piece ofdrapery sculpted for the background
he had arrived at a brilliant solution ofhow to present a horse rearing with-
out encumbering the base, an achievement which even Mocchi in his mag-
nificent work in the Piazza CavaUi had failed to do.^^ Bernini wished to
make the statue of Louis XIV equally dramatic and, since the King was
renowned as a soldier, he chose to present him in action, leading his men.
The horse rears up, beating the air vdth its hooves, preparing tojump over
some obstacle. The King, dressed as an ancient Roman, turns round as
though to urge on his troops, and points forward with his baton.
Bernini took a considerable time to fmish the work
possibly he had
many commissions in Rome or perhaps after the way he had been treated
in Paris, he was rather discouraged. In any case, by the time that the statue
arrived in Paris the taste for ItaHanate had passed, and the spirited beauty
of the thing was dismissed as mere gesticulation. There was too much
ardour and too much fire, and it showed the King in his early struggles.
Everyone would have preferred a severe statue of the King triumphant,
waiting calmly and majestically to receive the fruits of his victories.
The statue was, however, kept, though the portrait of Louis XIV was
erased from it. Girardon, with his taste for something harmonious and
classical for a statue, was the very last person to understand Bernini. Yet
it was he who was asked to remodel it (and of course to spoil it). The
supporting block ofmarble he changed into a mass offlames, the head was
altered, and this royal statue became one of Marcus Curtius hurling him- 131
self into a blazing abyss. Even that was not the last indignity. It had to be
relegated to an ornament in the gardens. Whether it was from ignorance
or perhaps as a fme piece ofirony it was finally erected near the Swiss lake.
France, which had once so nearly accepted plans for the most beautiful of
its palaces from Bernini, now did not even know what to do with a statue
of his, except hide it away. Certainly there was no question now of any-
thing Baroque holding out any temptation for the French.
CHAPTER VII
Qlassicism and
J^rench
baroque
For a long time there has been a temptation to Unk the quahties and the
triumph of French Classicism with the poHtical scene and the dominant
position which France held in the world from 1660 to 1680, but nowadays
one is inclined to feel that a truer explanation can be found by considering
economic factors and advanced trends of thought, which moulded pubhc
opinion rather than followed it. One can no longer attribute the whole of
the success ofthe classical style to decisions ofa king or a minister. But one
cannot overlook, either, the fact that tliis most brilliant period, the age of
Louis XIV, was a time when European economy was facing very great
difficulties. There was a continual fall in the price of foodstuffs and other
basic products upon which the whole structure had been built, and a con-
tinuously shrinking market. How could these factors fail to slow down or
halt entirely that very impetus in commerce and manufactures with which
Colbert was trying to galvanize the country?^ Then in addition there was
the cost of an ambitious foreign pohcy to be borne, and fiscal demands
that the people could not endure and that drove them again and again to
revolt.
Yet one must admit that problems of national economy did not stand
in the way of great triumphstriumphs which cannot be divorced from
the will of the King and his ministers to achieve them. One thing only
really counted with Louis XIV, and he admits tliis in his Memoires pour
VInstruction du Dauphinthe desire for a splendid reign. It was impossible
for him to be indifferent to anything which might in any way add to his
glory. Sometimes he took upon himself personal responsibihty for the
direction of matters such as foreign pohcy, which he regarded as a sphere
particularly suited to a King; sometimes questions arose where he found it
more difficult to make a personal decision and commonsense led him to
hsten attentively, though not uncritically, to the opinions ofthose he knew
to be better informed than himself Then he met Colbert.
One has already seen, in the exchanges between Colbert and Bernini,
how much the minister wished to make his master's reign distinguished by
CLASSICISM AND FRENCH BAKOQUE
some outstanding achievement. The glory- which he dreamed of did not
133
only consist ofvictories in the field. He did not think, as Richelieu did, that
everything should be subordinated to achieving startling defeats over other
nations. He thought that finance, building, manufacture, forestry, agri-
culture, literature, and the Gobelin tapestry industry were equally im-
portant. It was of these that he was tliinking when one day, talking to
Bernini, he declared that the King had probably fifty years still to perfect,
or at least advance, his plans.^ It was an essential factor of Colbert's policy
that he beheved Time to be on his side, and that it would consohdate the
plans he had so patiently fostered.
His was a methodical brain. He wished to lay down a set of principles
wliich, whether they were formulated by himself or by experts whom he
considered best qualified to deputize for him, would serve as a rehable
basis for action for many years to come. The same faith in the efficacy of
a doctrine, once formulated, inspired his policy wliich remained basically
the same, although it had many different forms. He beheved that there was
a hmited amount of bulhon in the world; therefore the country whose
industries could attract the most money would become the richest and
most powerful. With these mercenary motives he told Errard to buy the
best antique or modern works of art that came up for sale in Rome, for
Louis XIV, and hoped to attract to France all the leading artists in Italy.^
Already he had tried to get the best Flemish weavers, the best Venetian
glass blowers and the best German metal workers to settle in Paris. If he
sent French artists to study in the Roman studios it was in the hope that
they might paint as well as the Italians. In 1664 Colbert became Inspector
of Works, and reorganized the Academy of Painting of which Le Brun
was president. He charged a rather small academy with the task of either
composing or checking inscriptions on monuments which were erected to
the glorification ofLouis XIV. He founded the French Academy in Rome,
the Academy of Science in 1666, and in 1671 an Academy of
Architecture.
These institutions were to maintain standards that would ensure that
works approved by them would be of such quahty that they would not
merely be acclaimed immediately but have the classic quahty that would
be realized by posterity. Once the native French artists had been trained,
their style, Colbert thought, would be recognized by everyone as supreme.
Then foreigners would flock to France, and only to France, to learn ever)^-
thing they had previously learnt in other countries. It was a resolute and
logical policy, nicely calculated to enhance the prestige of France. Lideed
the plan might be called classical, though its ideals were not so restrained.
This desire for power recalled the days of ancient Rome or the Itahan
Renaissance rather than any ideal of Christian brotherhood. It smacked of
paganism; it reeked of royal, or nationahstic, boastfuhiess; the possibihties
of grandeur were always near to bathos.
French Classicism owes a great debt to those arcliitects who managed to
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
134
design something popular. Neither Louis XIV nor Colbert can be looked
on as founders of a style which had already taken root before their time:
nor would either of them have been capable ofdefming it. Even had both
been able to judge the question, their combined authority would have
been quite incapable of imposing their point of view on France, had it
not itself been ready to welcome the classical style. Yet, vdthout them,
French Classicism might not have enjoyed so great a success, had not
Louis XIV, as the 'Roi Soleil', incorporated the absolute ideal of mon-
archy, and his minister so zealously made propaganda for this idea.
Most of the principles which were to be taught in the Academies had
been slowly evolved from various sources; they had not been welded into
any system or a defmite doctrine; they had only the weak and disputable
authority of individual opinions.
Le Brun became the great interpreter of the classical doctrine. He put
great faith in models from the antique, but it was a faith that he justified
by reason and his own experience. It appeared obvious to him that the
ancients had achieved a harmonious balance between reahsm and a per-
fection ofform that at the same time incorporated the most intense concept
of beauty. It was therefore reasonable to draw from nature and important
not to neglect anatomy. But everything must be directed towards the
expression ofwhat is noble and dignified. A nice judgment would eschew
fantasy or mere enthusiasm.
If, at this time, Poussin was the model most widely followed, it was
because his work was increasingly inspired by antique sculpture. In that
he discovered the secret of just proportions. Fehbien, one spokesman
of the Academy, used almost the same words that Boileau had, in L'Art
poetique, when he stressed the necessity for genius, 'that illumination ofthe
spirit which cannot be achieved either by study or labour'. But, at the same
time, he thought that, endowed with genius, an artist might take facile
means to achieve his ends, but he should, on principle, be trained by study-
ing rules, by reflection, and assiduity in work. 'To produce things worthy
of posterity, genius must have seen much, read much and studied much.'
Whenhe acclaimed the superiority ofthe Roman painters, he was no doubt
thinking of Raphael, though what he said might be apphed to aU painters
trained in Rome. 'They fmd before them,' he said, 'an inexhaustible source
of beauty of design, in well-chosen attitudes, in subtlety of expression, in
well-ordered folds of drapery, and in that elevated style to which the
ancients raised Nature.'*
Thus Rome, which had both an antique and Renaissance heritage, was
chosen as a centre for study rather than Venice, a city of few antiquities.
Painting was supreme, but Venetian painting was too imaginative and
perhaps too naturahstic for the French taste. It was hvely, but afforded less
pleasure to the true connoisseur than did the Roman school. 'It is the sort
ofcreativeness which may divert us and arouse our emotions.' In principle
colour was certainly never theoretically to be sacrificed to pure design, yet
miJ^
.A
^nt
IV The Ambassadors' Staircase at Versailles, designed bv Le Vau and built in 1671,
was destroyed in
1752.
This reconstruction shows the brilhant hues ot the original
marble and the bust of Louis xiv which dominated the staircase
CLASSICISM AND FRENCH BAROQUE
in some ways it did become complementary, though, of course, an indis- 135
pensable complement.
The quarrel between those who see Poussin as the greatest of classical
painters and those who admire Rubens as the greatest Baroque artist has
its seeds in this order ofpreference.
At tliis particular time, Italian critics were full of praise for Colbert for
the choice he had made, and his wish to estabhsh a doctrine that could be
defmed. Belfort dedicated his Vie des peintres to him and congratulated
him on sending young French artists to grow up in contact with the an-
tiquities, triumphal arches, columns and the Capitol ofRome. Bellori, who
admired the antique and pure design, even refused to call anyone an archi-
tect who, in an exuberance ofimagination, deformed buildings and fa9ades
with broken angles or curving lines.^ He spoke almost the same language
as Chambray did. Blondel upheld a similar thesis in his speech when he
opened the Academy ofArchitecture (on 31st December
1671),
and in the
lectures that followed. He invoked the authority ofthe theorists who were
disciples of VitruviusVignola and Scamozzi, for instance: both recom-
mend respect for the orders, the just observation of proportions, and the
choice ofsuitable decoration. Yet he did not stint his praises ofthe modem
Itahans: neither ofPietro da Cortona nor ofBernini. Even when it came to
Borromini, he was not wholly disapproving. When talking ofhim, he did,
however go on to condemn 'the architect who has begun the church ofthe
Theatine Fathers in Paris and, wishing to follow the example of Borro-
mini, has chosen everything that was most extravagant in his work'.^
Father Guarini, to whom he was referring, had planned for Sainte-
Anne-la-Royale a Baroque church which would have been one of the
most interesting buildings in Paris. But it fell a victim to the taste for the
classical style and was never carried out. Perhaps one should remember
that Father Guarini showed great interest in and sympathy with the Gothic
style, and that Blondel remained hostile to the old French tradition. It
made no difference that it had lent to the native genius a brilliance un-
equalled in the whole ofEurope.
His idea ofarchitecture, though not so narrow as is sometimes supposed,
excluded all works that did not conform to certain rules. I say 'certain'
rules, because the Gothic could equally claim to have its own, which were
both organic and logical. But the only rules that he would admit were
those that derived from Vitruvius.
Father Guarini's were more hberal and gave architecture the right to be
as varied as possible. Their views were almost diametrically opposed: one
opens up vast horizons, the other fences in the field. Marcel Reymond's
remark takes on a new significance. 'Of all the words which Baroque has
spoken, beauty, tenderness, joyousness, feminity, or robust health, force,
and majesty, the word that for us remains the most cherished is that of
freedom of choice."'' France, in this last third of the centur)% when there
was infinite variety ofmodels from which she could so easily have chosen.
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
136
officially decided to become doctrinaire. It was, however, a doctrine tliat
sought to encourage what might be considered attractive, though serious.
It had two merits: it was ideahstic and spurned the facile. It had two draw-
backs: the threat of smothering anything impulsive and the power to for-
bid any daring change in the status quo.
There was the court and there was the city: the court was the source ofaU
favours, the only place where one could make a career even ifone were not
by birth or marriage a member of the small group of courtiers; the city
must be regarded even then as being the capital of France, with its com-
plex social structure offmanciers, poHticians, lawyers, bourgeois from both
commerce and the new industries, artisans. To all these must be added the
ehte of the provinces, educated people, who might lag behind Paris in
their tastes, but who were quite capable of keeping up with the hterature
of the day, and of praising it or condemning it.
The court and the city (sometimes in agreement but more often at
loggerheads) were the only bodies who could estabhsh the reputation of
a great writer. This period produced the great works of Mohere, Racine,
La Fontaine and Boileau, with their detailed observation and analysis,
where man was the focal interest and the style was subject to constant
order and discipHne. Their language rejected the extravagant imagery and
elaborations of the Baroque style and became clear and precise, but at the
same time extremely flexible and capable of expressing the fmest distinc-
tions of thought. Posterity was to admire this supreme example of Classi-
cism, both for its substance and its form, and even contemporary society
appreciated its worth. While the great conflict between the ancients and
the moderns was raging, the self-confident, but at the same time not vain-
glorious or ridiculous boast, could be heard
'We have done just as well

as the ancients.' Nevertheless, it was the ancients who had shown the way.
In tragedy, which was regarded as the most noble hterary form, the new
writers turned to ancient Greece and Rome for their plots. Ifsome allusions
seem to have a contemporary application to people or events, if there are
contemporary referencesand perhaps the ingenious researches ofpresent-
day critics find too manyit was certainly neither these allusions nor these
references which were responsible for the success of their work. The
French pubhc of the seventeenth century had a great taste for tragedies
which depicted passions they could understand and wliich enabled them to
identify themselves with the sufferings of these great semi-legendary
characters in their tragic fate. In comedy or satire the pubhc preferred the
representation ofthe evils and injustice ofhuman behaviour, in which they
knew they themselves shared because this was the nature of the society in
which they Hved and perhaps of society throughout aU ages. The fact that
they could see these evils represented and recognize them gave them a
certain pleasure and provided in a sense an aid to better hving. All the
classical work ofthis period gave intellectual satisfaction. But this 'inteUec-
tual satisfaction' was much wider than mere abstract reasoning; it was
137
sometliing that could illuminate and purify everyday hfe and fill the heart
with new courage. This synthesis between the intellectual faculties of
man and liis everyday experience, expressed in a perfect form, is the secret
ofwhat Antoine Adam has aptly called 'interior classicism'. This has noth-
ing to do with formal academism or any of its conventions, although it is
too often confused with them.
But at the very time when these masterpieces were being created, there
were other tendencies which might have killed them. Court and city: one
would have supposed that the city would have been for Molicre, and that
he would share the taste of the groundhngs who enjoyed seeing a marquis
held up to ridicule, and that the court would have been for Racine, en-
chanted by majestic solemnity and classical themes. Actually, Mohere
needed the backing of the court and royal patronage; nor was Racine
behindhand in seeking them. It was the royal command that called forth Le
Bourgeois Gentilhomme and Le Malade Imaginaire. They were no less pol-
ished masterpieces than plays written for the Palais-Royal theatre in Paris.
Iphigenie, the drama which is closely modelled on the antique, and which
sets out to prove 'that changing manners and the transformation ofsociety
scarcely touch the fundamental feelings ofhumanity',^ was first performed
at Versailles. It was included in the programme of that extraordinary festi-
val week in August
1674,
just ten years after the performance ofPlaisirs de
Visle enchantee. This time the King wished to celebrate the success of his
poHtics and his arms in the second and fmal conquest of Franche-Comte.
Nevertheless the approbation of the court would have counted for Httle
had the Parisian pubhc not in its turn flocked to see the play and shed tears
during the performances at the Hotel de Bourgogne.^
Not only was this a great age for prose and verse drama: there was also
the opera. In 1672, Lulli again took out a licence from the Academy of
Music (which had been founded three years previously), for the monopoly
throughout France of presenting verse set to music. This time the licence
ran for eight years,^^ and LuUi took into partnership an ItaHan called Carlo
Vigarani. It was a fruitful combination. From the pastoral masques which
were then the fashion Vigarani, by introducing one modification after
another, really created, with LuUi, French opera. He wrote praises of the
King which served as prologues to tragedies which usually had five
acts.
From the musical point ofview, the orchestra played an important part,
although recitative, and arias, in which the words (and the narrative) were
clearly intelhgible, still remained predominant. The romantic and elegant
charm of a court entertainment remained. For fifteen years, LuUi reigned
unchallenged over the musical world; they were the same years that saw
the dictatorsliip of Le Brun over the fine arts. Quinault and then Thomas
Comeille were asked for scripts, while Berain was called on for the decor
and costumes. The cycle began with Cadmus et Hermione in 1673.
It ended
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
138
in 1686 with a performance o Arntide, a few months before LuUi was
accidentally killed.
These operas, which were later forgotten for so long, gave France at the
time a prestige which till then had been the prerogative of Venice, and in
France itself the operas aroused as much enthusiasm as the works ofRacine
or Mohere. One must remember, too, that for a whole decade a new
opera was produced every year, while the theatre could offer nothing
comparable. Moliere had died in
1673,
and after the production ofPhedre,
in
1677,
Racine forsook the theatre to take up his duties as the King's
Chronicler. It is important to remembera point aptly stressed by Daniel
Mornetthat though between 1660 and
1699
there were almost three
hundred and fifty plays produced in various styles, 'at least hah"ofthe plays
which were applauded by the contemporaries ofMoHere and Racine were
in a greater or lesser degree totally different from those which posterity has
chosen as representative of the classical drama'.-^-'-
Both court and city favoured Classicism, but neither ofthem found it a
complete answer. If French Classicism asserted itself through original
characteristics which were opposed to the Baroque, it is no less true that it
grew from a firm foundation of Baroque tendencies and modes of ex-
pression.
What a strange history Versailles has had. When it was built it was the
marvel of the age; later it became the symbol of the faults of a detested
monarchy and was indeed almost made responsible for them; after the
Revolution it was fated to become nothing more than a museum; then
once again it became the focal point ofEuropean history: the proclamation
ofthe German Empire and the signing ofthe Peace Treaty of
191
9
gave it
once more its proper importance in the eyes ofthe world. It is now reaUzed
that Versailles is one ofthe most amazing achievements ofmodem civihza-
tion. Though it has been remodelled over and over again throughout two
centuries, Versailles as it has come down to us gives, in spite of some de-
plorable omissions, a fair impression of what Louis XIV wished to create.
It was carried out with astonishing speed: it bears witness by itself to the
number and the quahty of artists to be found in France at that time, and
reflects the progress of the whole nation during the century. When one
reahzes that it was native talent that built, decorated and furnished this
gigantic residence in the space of a few years, that an intractable country-
side was transformed into gardens unrivalled by anything else in Europe,
every Frenchman could say with Mohere:
On travaiUe aujourd'hui d'un air miraculeux
Jamais en toute chose on n'a vu si bien faire . .
.^^
Nevertheless the original plans for Versailles could be called neither wise
nor rational. As the magnificent enterprise went on and new ideas were
put forward and carried out, one might almost say that they never coin-
139
cided with the immediate national interests or with the necessities of
general poHcy. While the King should have been thinking only of the
Louvre, his incHnation was for an estate where he could indulge in court
fetes more freely than was possible either at Saint-Germain or Fontaine-
bleau. Le Notre had already begun to open out the gardens and, stage by
stage, thrust Nature back more and more into the distance.
At first the small chateau built by Louis XIII was left comparatively un-
changed. The simple addition ofpavihons and the decoration ofthe court-
yard with busts modified its character as a hunting lodge and made it more
suitable for receptions. In 1669, when fmal efforts were being made to
complete the Louvre, andjust at the moment when all efforts and available
funds were needed for it, the King decided to build a new chateau at Ver-
sailles. It would be his own, but it could serve no purpose that was not
already covered by Saint-Germain and Fontainebleau. The whole project
was unwarranted, and undertaken purely for Louis's personal satisfaction,
a princely indulgence in the vainglory of building which was then almost
universal amongst the great. Certainly, had the public good been consi-
dered, this great Baroque, Italianate design was hardly justified at the
conclusion of a war, with no more quick victories to come, and in every
field difficulties to be faced.^^
I-The plan eventually selected was Le Van's. This avoided the destruction
ofthe Uttle chateau ofLouis XIII, and the reverence Louis XTV showed for
the work carried out by his father and ancestors has often been commented
on. Such care was in keeping with the monarchical conception of the family
and also with the spirit ofthe age, which considered it virtuous to maintain
and pass on one's inheritance. In a society which was still httle removed
from an agrarian way of Hfe, where tradition was paramount, this was
normal. There was also another consideration: the programme was going
to cost fantastic sums, and so some palliative might be found in paring
down on details. The chance ofkeeping and re-using anything was not to
be overlooked: it was what Colbert described as 'cobbling'. However, it
played a very small part compared with the immensity of the new build-
ings.
Le Vau surrounded the old chateau by a great palace in the shape ofa U.
Facing the gardens, which had to be replanned, the beautiful facade shows
two pavihons, broad enough to have seven windows; on the piano nohile
the central windows are advanced and framed by columns. There are
three storeys, and the slope of the roofis hidden by a balustrade. Bet^veen
the pavihons, at the level of the piano nohile, the facade is set back behind
the terrace on ground level. The whole has an Itahan feeling about it and
recalls Bernini's designs for the Louvre
[95].
The layout of the new palace, with its interior courtyardswhich had
certainly played an essential part in Bernini's plansand the great care
taken in placing the rooms, has led some art historians to talk of a pre-
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
140
occupation with urban architecture. Versailles, secondary perhaps to being
the background for court fetes, was to be somewhere to stay, though what
sort ofsojourns were envisaged remained undefmed. The passion for large-
scale fetes showed no signs of abating. In fact it had a resurgence, more
hvely than ever, when the new war afforded any excuse for them. The
outbreak of war had called forth detestation, but after the first dazzling
victories, pubhc opinion, half admiring and half dazed, accepted it. The
victory that led to the recapture of Franche-Comte, though it meant the
war would spread considerably, was one which Louis XIV made the oc-
casion for a fete at Versailles more brilliant than ever. It lasted six days, and
was marked by concerts and operas. On the fourth day for example the
Fetes de VAmour et de Bacchus by LuUi and Quinault was performed. The
plays included Alceste, played in the Marble Court, Le Malade Imaginaire
which was given in the garden theatre, and Racine's Iphigenie. There were
banquets, fountain displays and illuminations. It ended with a firework
display, of unheard-of magnificence, along the great canal.
f^
For the interior decorations Le Brun again used and developed the style
which had already won him renown at the Louvre, Allegorical paintings
combined with the fluid lines oftheir frames and stucco motifs to form one
whole. Though it was in contradiction to what he preached, these pictures
were neither intellectual nor calm. Imagination, movement and vivid
colouring were essential, for how could one handle royal themes except
with magnificence and dash? Nor was this really going against the grain,
for his temperament was as much Baroque as classical [loi].
Later rebuilding led to the destruction of one superb work in the north
wing of the new palace. A two-winged staircase, designed by d'Orbay,
rose against a huge trompe Voeil painting on the main wall where Le
Brun had depicted people and animals on a palace balcony [IV].
Pure Classicism would not be found in this palace, for the general inspira-
tion and most ofthe details ofthe execution were still ItaHanate. Neverthe-
less, despite this beginning, Versailles, with its unceasing development,
grew farther and farther away from Italy. When sculptures were ordered
on the grand scale in
1674,
the themes commissioned were the mythologi-
cal and universal subjects so well known in the ItaHan courts, and whose
every variation had been pointed out by Cesare Ripa in his famous book
Iconologia. The four elements, the four seasons, the quarters of the day, the
four corners of the world, the four characters of manall these could be
found in the decorations carried out in Paris in 1660, or later, in the fete of
Vile enchantee. The artists who were chosen to reinterpret them were Coy-
sevox, Girardon, Tubi and Le Hongre. Though they followed their per-
sonal taste, they were ah faithful to the teachings of the Academy and
sought a comiexion with antique art. Noble attitudes, grace of movement
and calmness of expression combined to give an air of happy serenity and
a stability in strong contrast to the rhythm and passion of ItaHan art. The
sculpture of Versailles, much more markedly than the paintings or the
architecture, banishes Baroque from the royal demesneJ It is easy to un-
141
derstand why the statue ofBernini could not fit in here: even the Baroque
Milo ofCrotona by Pugct, seems, merely by recalling physical suffering and
mental anguish, to strike a false note in this symphony of happiness and
Ught
[98, 99
& 100].
.From
1679
onwards Hardouin-Mansart gave Versailles its fmal form,
which has been spared in spite of alarming inclinations to rebuild during
the eighteenth century, or the heavy-handed restorations of the nineteenth
century. Taking as his starting-point the new palace, which he left as the
main and central motive of the whole, he enlarged and consolidated the
terraces to the north and south to carry the long wings which give the
palace its horizontal fullness
[96
&
97].
He made the magnificent stairway
ofThe Hundred Steps to run down to the orangery. The two paviHons of
the facade were linked up by a gallery. The interior was decorated by
mirrors facing the windows; for the vaulting Le Brun painted large com-
positions celebrating the royal victories. Thus, from the Salon de la Guerre
to the Salon de la Paix, with the mirrors and the chandeliers reflecting and
multiplying the flames ofthe candles, the decor seemed to embody the aim
ofall Louis XIV's poHtics [loi]. One could beheve that all the wars which
had brought him so much glory remained subordinate to the wish for
peace, the peace which Paris had so longed for at the beginning of his
reign. One could also beheve that all the sacrifices demanded ofthe nation
had only been made to support an efiort that strove to attain peace; if it
was now achieved, the King could savour his triumph in an incomparable
palace, and dedicate himself to the well-being of his people. The appear-
ances were superb, if in stark contradition with reahty, and there was
grandeur in proclaiming such an ideal, even if it were unattainable.
\'- Nothing within the palace was out of harmony with the whole. Le
Brun either supplied or supervised the designs for furniture, for cabinets
inlaid with ebony or mother of pearl, for the carpets and the finely col-
oured tapestries, for the dignified thrones and, fmally, for the admirable
silver work. Themes were borrowed from mythology and fable: the
animal kingdom was used, and the Raphael tradition of grotesques. Al-
lusions to the glory of the reign recur incessantly. Everything was to con-
tribute to the impression ofostentatious richness and grandeur. The crafts-
manship shows an astonishing mastery that had been acquired within only
a few years in the royal factories and studios. It was shown, not so much in
accessories or everyday objects, as in creating an organic element which
was indispensable to the beauty of the whole. Today, with much of
it completely vanished or only left in part, we see but a mutilated Ver-
sailles. 4
The gardens outside form another composition which may aptly be
called architectural, so carefully arranged are the sheets of water, the ter-
races, the fanciful elegance o(the parterres and the great canal as broad as a
river, indeed the whole logical progression from the design in stone to the
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
142 open countryside. There is no doubt that the supremacy of Versailles and
its greatest classical quality was shown by the fact that the most varied
groups ofpeople and the most diverse artistic styles were brought together
to form one single and clearly inteUigible work of art.
It could only happen when many circumstances were favourable; these
the historian can recognize, though he may not, with an entirely clear
conscience, point out any single one as the principal and decisive factor.
There had been steady progress for several centuries; the country was rich
and, whatever misfortunes may have overtaken individual people, society
as a whole had benefited; there was also the pohtical will which, however
tarnished, had never irretrievably given up the ideals of reason and of
grandeur; and consent, whether spontaneous or extorted, was forthcoming
from many individual quartersit was a taste far more complex and full
of subtleties than that of any one person could be, but one in which per-
sonal quaHties could maintain their rights and influence. Versailles, indeed,
bears witness not only to the monarchy under Louis XIV and the brief
period of its full expansion, but also to the slow evolution of French
civiHzation of which this palace was one of the most beautiful manifesta-
tions. In comparison with what had gone beforethe rehgious works of
medieval France which either turned away from or did not know the
'ideal' beauty of the antique world, the Itahan Renaissance which was
again inspired by that ideal, the churches and palaces of ItaUan Baroque
Versailles is the outcome of a France that was at the same time heir to the
past and an innovator now emancipated enough to create something that
would, in its turn, be looked upon as a model.
|.Everything about this new masterpiece that could be considered dis-
concerting and odd, its inability fully to satisfy aesthetic demands, and its
violation, in spite ofeverything, oftrue proportion have never been better
expounded than by a contemporary in a celebrated passage which is true
and unjust in almost equal parts. It is worth quoting in full. The injustice
hes in the absolute refusal to be charmed, and that is due to the unflagging
hatred Saint-Simon felt for Louis XIV, without whom there would never
have been a Versailles. Such passion was perhaps necessary to free the mind
from too blind a compHance. The truth of the indictment still remains to
modify the largely justified satisfaction which we derive from a general
view which obscures the meretricious methods employed.
'At Versailles he set up one building after another according to no scheme
ofplanning. Beauty and ugliness, spaciousness and meanness were roughly
tacked together. The royal apartments at Versailles are fantastically in-
convenient, with back-views over the privies and other dark and evil-
smelling places. Truly, the magnificence of the gardens is amazing, but to
make the smallest use of them is disagreeable, and they are in equally bad
taste. To reach any shade one is forced to cross a vast, scorching expanse
and, after all, there is nothing to do in any direction but go up and down
95
ABOVE. Le Van's garden facade for Versailles included two comer pavilions,
with a gap between them, below. The garden tat^-ade, from 1678 onwards,
by Hardouin-Mansart, gave Versailles its definitive character
96
is
i^
,.>,..vjUjJL
_^ ^ , V. Z
^ ^
^
*
nTijijjMiiJlOXjL^
J 1 1 11 11 1 in in
i*
s
js i ^ ti
97
General view of Versailles where the palace bears witness, not only to the
greatness of Louis XIV, but equally to French civihzation, which had gradually
become enriched: this is one of its fniest forms of expression
RIGHT. The Rape of Proserpine, by Girardon. The sculpture at Versailles, much
more than the architecture and painting there, tended to repulse the Baroque
influence from the new royal residence
I*
OL
-%_ *^
4Ct^
#
"^j
ZZîf
ifi
/
^'0
98
99
100
Statues in the gardens of Versailles (above), and in the water garden (below),
by Le Hongre. Faithful to academic teaching, but following his own taste, he
tried to go back to classical art. His sculptures all indicate a stability far removed
from the passion and rhythm of Italian art
lOI
Detail of a painting in the Hall ot Mirrors at Versailles. In 167S Le Brun decorated
the vault with huge compositions in honour of the Royal victories
102 The iuncral of Chancellor Scguicr, designed by Le Brun, and one oi his master-
pieces. His light touch, ordered imagination, and true sense of grandeur and
emotion have given it the perfect Tightness of classical art
103
iijERAl\ f-
The King ordered a special service tor the funeral ot Turenne in Notre Dame.
Tin-enne had been the 'sword ot the monarchy" and the decoration tor the
ceremony was entrusted to Berain, who asked Father Mcnestrier to help him
oru/ion liiin'/>/>' i^-' f^' C/t,i/u'//r </.
%.r////.'.r th' I^diis poiti /
r/i/nun<i/Jo/i
\
r Jjj ( iv/t/ rfe )< ^7 )
^ iLvi.cniihui
-
I (-P
Cpi / I'
^_^^
/"<////< V _r /'///<< </// ' 1 ,1//,;
104 Bcrain's design for the burial of Conde's heart. This was given to the Jesuit
Church (now Saint Paul ct Saint Louis), in which the great general had asked
that his heart be kept
'(
^ /////' // ///_', '//////;
105
/3
Berain designed the funeral of the Prince de Conde. It was in tlais setting that
Bossuct made his famous funeral oration: 'Here is all that magnificence and
pity can offer a hero . . . figures that seem to weep beside a tomb . .
.'
io6
The superb and supremely Baroque
reredos of the church of L'lslc sur
Sorgue in the Vauchise incorporates
a large painting of the Assumption
of the Virgin, above, Detail
io8 ABOVE LEFT. Central altarpiece of
the Fontaine Couverte, Mayenne.
In the Laval district, where marble
and limestones arc found, many
such reredoscs were built and decor-
ated up to the eighteenth century
109 ABOVE RIGHT. Altarpiece of the
south transept of the Fontaine
Couverte. During the winter of
1694 Pierre Barauderie carved this
Adoration of the Shepherds, evi-
dently using local peasants as models
no
RIGHT. The altarpiece of the church
of StJean de Bcre is one ofthe fnicst
in the district, the work of G.
Robelot. Its white stone decoration
consists of a profusion of garlands,
volutes, putti and caryatids, with
incrustations of dark marble
IIT
The altarpiccc of the Church of
Tepotzotlan in Mexico. The most
amazing achievements in the Bar-
oque reredos are to be found in
Spain and Latin America
112
The aharpicce of Comana in Finis-
tere is an example of a carved rere-
dos carried out with engaging
naivety by artisans who did not
shrink from tackhng the greatest
Baroque subjects: the Eternal Father,
auQ-els and garlands of flowers
a little hill, after which the gardens end. The broken stones on the paths 143
burn one's feet, yet without them one would sink into sand or the blackest
mud.
'Who could help being repelled and disgusted at the violences done to
Nature? Numberless springs have been forced to flow into the gardens
from every side making them lush, overgrown and boggy; they are per-
ceptibly damp and unhealthy and their smell is even more so. The foun-
tains and other effects are indeed incomparably fme, although they require
a great deal of attention, but the net result is that one admires and flics,
'On the courtyard side, the constriction is suffocating and the vast wings
recede quite pointlessly. On the garden front, one is able to appreciate the
beauty of the building as a whole, but it looks like a palace that has been
destroyed by fire because the upper storey and the roofs are still missing.
The chapel towers above it because ofMansart's attempt to force the King
to add an entire upper storey. As it now is, it presents the distressing ap-
pearance of some vast hearse. Everywhere in the chapel the craftmanship
is exquisite, but the design is nil, for everything was planned from the
point ofview of the tribune, because the King never went below.
'But one might be for ever pointing out the monstrous defects of that
huge and immensely costly palace, and of its outhouses that cost even
more, its orangery, kitchen gardens, kennels, larger and smaller stables, all
vast, all prodigiously expensive. Indeed, a whole city has sprung up where
before was only a poor tavern, a windmill and a little pasteboard chateau,
which Louis XIII built so as to avoid lying on straw.
'^*
)
We may say that the classical style at Versailles predominated, but this
was not to the exclusion of all Baroque characteristics. These were again
to appear more forcibly at Marly (now destroyed) as though to show that
they were indispensable in any decoration that enhanced the grandeur and
glory of royalty. In Paris itself, the parish churches (Saint Louis-en-l'Ile,
Saint-Nicolas-du-Chardonnet, Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas), private houses
and pubHc buildings such as the InvaHdes further identified French work
with the classical ideal. But it would need a fanatic to undertake a study
into all aspects ofFrench civihzation ofthe day, to determine which works
should be called purely classical and which betray a leaning towards the
Baroque.
From the many instances to be found, two illustrate in a striking manner
the rivalry which went on between ItaHan influence and what was hence-
forward to be the declared French style, as well as the coexistence of the
classical and the Baroque in one style. On one hand we have the decora-
tion of churches when a great person died, and the elaborate funerals to
which the seventeenth century gave so much thought and care: on the
other hand, there are the reredoses, with which it was common at this date
to ornament the altars, that reflect not only rehgious ideas but also con-
temporary taste. Most revealing of all are the reredoses to be found in
L
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
144
country churches. They help us to understand what the humble and lowly
people imagined and cherished.
What is one to think of these great funereal festivities which were
celebrated throughout the seventeenth century in Europe upon the death
of a Pope, a king, or a prince? They gave rise to a style of decoration
that was quite unique and has often been condemned as bad taste, with the
macabre exhibition of death-masks and skeletons, the worldly show and
profusion of candles which surrounded the empty coffm whose role was
only symboHc and figurative.
A funeral ceremony or a funeral feastthe two go together and one
recognizes again the contradiction that seems to He at the heart of the
Baroque.-"^^
Many trends seem to meet here. Representations of death were knov^ni
in the Middle Ages, and elaborate funeral ceremonies took place. During
the Renaissance, artists took an increasing interest in depicting anatomies
and the theme of death in the midst of hfe and its pleasures becomes an
obsession in Hterature.
It was as widespread amongst the Protestants or free thinkers as amongst
the Cathohcs. But the crux ofthe matter doubtless Hes in one ofthe funda-
mental controversies which divided the Catholics and Protestants during
the Reformation, namely the validity ofprayers for the dead.^^ The Coun-
cil ofTrent, by decreeing them necessary and effective, opened the way to
a renewal of a funeral Hturgy. In this way a defmite doctrine was laid
down, but, when praying for the dead, the living also were succoured and
consoled in their sorrow by the encouragement given to them by their
Christian hopes.-*^' In a hierarchical society where all eyes looked towards
the great, their death would inevitably be an occasion ofparticular solem-
nity, more eloquent because ofthe greater contrast between the riches and
favours they had enjoyed in hfe and the nulhty to which death had reduced
them; their merits or failings were gravely weighed by all.
To put it sHghtly differently, though many elements of the funeral rites
came from various old traditions, the elaboration and scale with which
they were celebrated at the end ofthe sixteenth century (first ofall in Italy)
would be inexplicable without the background of the rehgious ideology
ofthe Counter-Reformation and an aristocratic society. One ofthe earHest
ofthese great funeral decorations was carried out by the painter Sebastiano
FoUi in Siena cathedral for the funeral service of Bishop Piccolomini in
1578.^^ But it was the Florentine court which took the greatest interest in
these funeral celebrations. The Grand Dukes were punctilious in holding
services not only when one of their family died, but also on the death of
foreign princes. These Florentine decorations, with their ingenious varia-
tions on one theme, were widely known through the prints which were
made of each ceremony in honour of the deceased.
Doubtless the richness and luxury of the decorations, which seem to us
so aHen and macabre, did in the end obscure the pious intention of the
ceremony, or at least dissolve it in the spectacular beauty of the settings. 145
Yet it would be rash of us to attribute our own reactions to people of
another age, or to deny that a rchgious effect might have been achieved by
such theatrical means.
What concerns us more here is that this type of decoration had a great
success and spread to countries outside Italy. It took the place of the more
ancient rituals, which in many cases were no less elaborate.
Rome saw one funeral wliich was remarkable for its grandeur, that of
Sixtus V, who died in August 1590. Domenico Fontana, who had been the
Pope's favourite architect, and had carried out the great works which
transformed Rome during his pontificate, erected fabric in the form of a
huge catafalque which looked as though it was made of marble.^^ On a
platform, approached by eight steps, there was an arcaded rotunda. In
front ofthe arches were allegorical statues: ReUgion, Pontifical Authority,
Charity, Magnificence, Providence and Faith. The cornice carried figures
on a reduced scale copied from the Trajan and Antonine columns and four
obelisks. The great achievements of this 'town-planning' Pope were re-
called in his honour. The catafalque was crowned with a cupola that re-
sembled the dome of St Peter's, and in the place of the lantern a cross
seemed to shed its benediction on the death-bed, which was supported by
four lions. In the rotunda lay the coffin of the Pope, guarded by figures of
the cardinal virtues
-Justice, Prudence, Temperance and Strength.

It was a long time before France adopted the new fashion and in the
collection of prints in the Bibhotheque Nationale we can follow the slow
evolution that led up to it. The French artists knew how to erect magnifi-
cent tombs and ornament them with praying figures. But that was not the
same thing. The ItaHans never confused architecture or monumental statu-
ary with funeral decoration, though there was much in common between
the two. When Anne ofAustria died in 1666, Carlo Vigarani declared that
the Parisian decorators could turn out nothing suitable and that their st)4e
was well below ItaHan standards.
In contrast with this, there was a funeral ceremony carried out in Gren-
oble by the Jesuits that revealed the existence of a designer with original
ideas. Father Menestrier was famihar with the ItaUan models, but he him-
self laid down principles for this type of decoration. In his opinion the
proper thing to do was to choose a subject from a passage of Scripture that
could inform the whole design and, with its allegories and figures, would
be an appropriate eulogy of the deceased. 'Modest)^' he declared in his
treatise Decorationsfunehres, 'modesty is a praiseworthy virtue in the H\'ing
but, after their death, it is far from our duty to be modest on their behalf,
and we should pay that tribute to their merit which they had refused to
accept during their hfetime.' It was therefore seemly 'to add to the black
drapes, the candles and the lugubrious chants of the church, inscriptions,
pictures and dramatic scenes that will bring back the virtues and illustrious
actions of the dead, such as was done in the apotheoses in antiquit}% so
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
146 celebrated by the Greeks, and so well known to the Romans, who had
borrowed them from the
Jews . .
.'^^
In the commemoration service for Anne of Austria at Grenoble, he
chose the theme of the weeping Graces, 'Indeed,' he says, 'the name of
Anne is synonymous with Grace in holy speech. It is from Grace that
monarchs derive all their greatness, which they acknowledge in their titles.
We are in a town that has received its name from the Graces, and it is in
the Val-de-Grace that this pious Queen wished her heart to he after her
death.'
One could see here 'the change of the deceitful Graces into so many
skeletons, which show what are the Graces ofthis world, or what they will
one day become'. The Graces of this world: Life, Honours and Riches,
carrying emblems that showed what they represented, are contrasted with
the immortal Graces: Virtue, Fame and Eternity. Round the tomb were
palms entwined with branches of cedar, because these are symbols of a
beatific eternity in the Holy Scriptures. 'Justus ac Palmajlorehit, sicut Cedrus
Libani multiplicatur.'^^
Father Menestrier became very experienced, and settled down in Paris
in 1670. There, there were great preparations for the funeral ceremonies of
the Due de Beaufort, Admiral of France, and grandson of Henri IV, who
had fallen at the siege of Candia in
1699,
in the war against the Turks.
Clement IX had asked Bernini to design the catafalque for the service that
was held on 28th September 1669 in St Peter's. The base was given anima-
tion by two richly decorated wings spreading out from a great cartouche
in the centre which displayed the ducal coat ofarms. It supported a fantastic
spectacle. Above a trophy of cannons, flags and breast-plates, two im-
mense winged skeletons held aloft a pyramid on which the various deeds
ofprowess performed by Beaufort were depicted and inscribed. Two fly-
ing angels blew trumpets ofFame, while they presented the Palm ofGlory
and the Mirror of Truth. Crowning all was the statue of the Duke, with
sword and buckler. It was, with its heroics and its pathos, a superbly
Baroque work. In Paris Henri Gissey, who had designed the Chambre du
Roi, was put in charge of decorations at Notre Dame, where a com-
memorative service was to be held on
1
3 th August 1670. His design showed
a revival ofthe French style. He planned a castrum doloris in three stages: at
the base was a great plinth decorated with a carbuncle of the Beaufort
arms and entwined anchors to recall his naval career. At the two sides
abutting the volutes, skeletons supported a platform on which crouching
allegorical figures alternate with tall candelabra. Higher up, a large statue
sits in front of a draped coffin and weeping putti reverse their flambeaux.
This funereal composition could hold its own with Bernini's, and, though
it is less spirited and more static, both works express the same emotion.^^
Eighteen months later, on 25th January 1672, the aged Chancellor Seguier
died. His funeral was the cause of so many quarrels about precedence that
it was robbed ofthe pomp which was to be expected and it was the Royal
Academy of Painting and Sculpture, of which he had been patron, that
147
held a commemoration service of great magnificence in his honour. It was
held in the Church of the Oratory on 5th May and it fell to Le Brun to
'invent' the decorations
[102].
The entire church was draped in black. At
the bottom of the choir a large cartouche displayed the Scguier arms. At
the sides painted panels recalled his career, and throughout the decorations
the ducal coronet alternated with the Chancellor's cap. At the level of the
galleries these were held out at arms' length by large-scale figures ofskele-
tonsjust covered by their dry and withered skin. On the castmm doloris four
allegorical figures supported a gigantic urn above which the draped coffin
and ducal crown were visible. Four other figures of death, swaddled in
winding sheets, lowered immense torches. But the most successful part of
the decoration was a pyramid ofcandles which hung from the ceiling and
formed a baldacchino that seemed to be held up by two large angels in
flight.
By breaking the design into two parts the cenotaph achieved a rare dis-
tinction and appeal. There was a moving nobihty in the severe lines of the
plinth, the urn, and the coffm. Then the free space between them and the
baldacchino made the flight of the angels, full of strength and grace, seem
more natural. One might venture to say that the flames of the candles on
the pyramid brought something hving into this monument to death. This
is certainly one of the most beautiful of funeral decorations of which we
have an engraving.^^ Le Brun had achieved a masterpiece, as he had twelve
years ago with the obeHsk in the Place Dauphine. His Latin deHcacy, his
disciphned imagination, his balanced feeling for grandeur and emotion
gave this decoration, which was inspired by Baroque ideals, a perfect
classical expression.
In
1675,
Turenne fell in battle, and the King decided that a solemn ser-
vice should be held for him in Notre Dame. Berain, who had succeeded
Gissey, was in charge of the decorations. He asked Father Menestrier if he
could draw upon his knowledge, and it was the symbohsm worked out by
this ingenious
Jesuit that marked these funeral pomps. Never before had
been seen, not even perhaps in Italy, so Baroque and so allusive a castrum
doloris [103].^^
The cenotaph was an immense round tower; through the broad open
doorway could be seen the coflin ofthe hero. On the rusticated base which
supported the tower, there was a throng of figures in attitudes expressive
of glory, sorrow, triumph and humiHation. Some symbohzed the virtues
of the deceased
piety, love of the King, mihtary valour, wisdom, merit,

fame, glorywhile others were of the vices which he had conquered:
envy, rashness, hastiness, sloth, self-interest and impiety. On both sides of
the tower were gigantic trees thrusting out palm branches to entwdne
three crowns, the first of flowers, the second of laurels, and the third of
stars. Two rows of candles encircled the tower. High up were the blazons
of all the princely famihes connected with Turenne, and on the roof itself
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
148
was an um of gigantic proportions and two gesticulating figures. Death
menaces it with his scythe, but from the um there steps out a winged
figure of Immortahty serenely contemplating a portrait of the hero.
Father Menestrier pubhshed a booklet which contained the key to all
these mysteries. It was necessary too, for even the most learned spectator,
however fertile his imagination or thorough his training in contemporary
taste, would have missed some of the allusions.
How significant was the choice of the tower, for instance. It could
hardly be bettered, for it stood for the tower of David. 'His name of La
Tour (Henri de la Tour d'Auvergne) and his coat ofarms which display a
round tower, make this an individual design.' Then Father Menestrier goes
on to explain how appropriate it is to place a tower in a church, especially
in one dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, since in the Song of Songs, it is
symboHc both of Her and the Church. Turenne, when he was converted
to Cathohcism, became a devotee ofthe Virgin: turris ehurnea. There could
be no fitter symbol for a general than a tower surrounded by palm trees
and bucklers. The tower ofDavid naturally led one to think ofa king, and
it was the King w^ho had ordered the funeral ceremony. When carried to
such lengths, symbohsm becomes merely a riddle. Compared with the
display staged in honour of Seguier or with the awareness and ingenuity
that marked all Italian work, this mausoleum for Turenne shows such
lamentable clumsiness that it threatened to bring the whole art into dis-
repute.
By the time the Queen died in 1683,
Berain and Father Menestrier were
no longer in agreement. Berain's catafalque was in the form of an urn,
supported by draped figures and surrounded with candelabra. A dais was
suspended from the vaulting and from it long black draperies flowed down
to the castrum dolorisJ^^ Father Menestrier reproached him for the meagre-
ness of his invention and for numerous 'incongruities'.^^ He himself had
other ideas. He would have liked to pile all the sUver from Versailles upon
a funeral pyre copied from the antiquecandelabra, ewers, flambeaux,
vasesa ghttering array of riches which death had snatched from the
Queen, who now lay there reduced to nothing.
^'^
Father Menestrier, taking
as his text all the errors which he saw in Berain's work at Notre Dame,
immediately pubhshed his treatise Decorations Junehres. Here he tried to
demonstrate that such decorations were part ofthe philosophy ofimagery,
and should therefore not be entrusted to any but the experienced and in-
teUigent. Vast vistas lay ahead. 'One may also erect temples, pyramids,
altars, trophies, or lay out a camp, a palace, a theatre, a road, a gallery and
make them temples ofGlory, Piety or the Triumphant Virtuesthe camp
for Victory: the theatre for Sorrow: the palace for Honour: the road of
immortahty for heroes, like the Milky Way in the skies: altars for sacri-
fices and perfumes, etc, etc.'^^ He was not unaware that something more
simple might be preferred. 'There are those who are content to put a
crucifix and six great candlesticks upon the altar. This decoration has some-
thing indefinably more solemn than the use of a great number of candies 149
and Hglits.'
But, above all, he called on France to make an effort in the field of
funereal display. 'The arts flourish amongst us. Good taste has been intro-
duced in painting, sculpture and architecture. Our language has reached
perfection. Our theatre is more serious, weighty and more polished than
that of any other nation. Our music need no longer be envious of that of
Italy . . . From every quarter people come to France to admire its wonders
... It must not be that funeral decorations are the only thing not carried
out by us with the same intelligence which one sees in everything else. We
could, if we wished, not only be as successful in this as the Itahans, but
much surpass them, for we have the most magnificent Prince who ever
was and workmen more excellent than can be found in Italy.' If Father
Menestrier was right in his appreciation of the progress made in France
during the last thirty years, he was also not entirely wrong in his criticism.
But it was he himselfwho had, by confounding pedantry and preciousness
with allegory and symbolism, been unable to give French funeral decora-
tion any quahty comparable to the ItaHan Baroque: nor had anything sur-
passed Le Brun's masterpiece.
In the rivalry between the two, Berain remained ahead. One can imagine
Father Menestrier saying 'One must have ingenuity' and Berain replying
'One must have taste.' And certainly the taste with which he carried out
the decorations for Conde's funeral showed that he had no need of com-
plex symboHsm to achieve an impression of grandeur [105].^^
The problems which he now faced bore some resemblance to those
which Bernini had solved, fifty years earher, in designing the baldacchino
for St Peter's. Here too, was a baldacchino on the castrum doloris. The im-
mense straight pillars, with their Corinthian capitals, were wreathed in
laurels. Above the entablature there arose another structure, stepped back.
At the four corners were vases, modelled on the antique, w^hich belched
flames. The centre was taken up by an urn of great elegance which sup-
ported a second, and more slender urn. On top was the traditional figure
of Immortahty; its wings were ruffled by a breeze, and, as was customary,
it held up the portrait of the Prince to view. Thus the design above the
baldacchino formed a pyramid. At the corners of the catafalque were sym-
bolic figures, and beneath the baldacchino lay the draped coffm, covered
with an immense cushion on which lay a prince's crown. At the foot there
was a trophy of equally enormous size.
Between the entablature and the coffm was a pall ofperfect proportions,
and a second pall, suspended from the vaulting covered the castrum doloris,
forming a link with the general decoration of the nave, where pictures
held up by mummified skeletons, commemorative medals and pahns alter-
nated against the black drapes that covered its whole length.
It was in these surroundings that Bossuet dehvered his famous funeral
oration, that still enthrals us with its eloquence and grandeur of inspira-
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
1
50 tion. But it is now nothing more than a masterpiece of rhetoric. At the
time, in this setting, it was something hving. The great preacher could
point to the decorations to underhne each point of his address, and his
eloquence echoed the inscriptions or recalled the symbolism of the figures
displayed in the church. We must remember this if we are to enjoy to the
full this passage:
'Cast your eyes around you: here is everything that piety and mag-
nificence could do to honour a hero: titles, inscriptions, vain marks of
that which is no more; figures who seem to weep around a tomb and
frail representations ofa griefwhich Time will carry away with every-
thing else; pillars which seem to wish to carry magnificent witness to
the dead up to the Heavens; nothing is lacking in all these honours
but him to whom they are paid.'
If, in considering the rivalry between the Baroque and Classicism, one
thinks that every manifestation of one style means a repudiation of the
other, then the whole question becomes pointless. In this case, for instance,
you can see pathetic grandeur, the religious sense of power and glory,
expressed with a felicity exactly suited to the contemporary background
of the Grand Monarchy. It was, paradoxically enough, when one tried to
introduce too rigid rules and too subtle refinement that this type ofart fell
into bathos, having nothing in common with Baroque and merely reflect-
ing its excesses and deformities. Berain, who had been brought up in a
school which rated taste and empiricism as major virtues, found a full out-
let for his inclinations and ingenuity in such works. His achievement was
classical, if by that we understand that the means were perfectly suited to
the end; but it was neither a cold nor intellectual Classicism. Berain, con-
sidered as a decorator, had an outstanding gift for elegance ofline and this
gave his works their originahty. They had too an architectural quahty and
the spectator was not only enchanted by incidental detail, but by the dis-
position of mass and volume; nor wâs an excess of symbohsm allowed to
detract from the solemn emotion evoked by the composition as a whole.
Yet any style which is constantly in use can scarcely escape the danger of
becoming academic. In the beginning these funeral decorations combined
rehgious meditation on death and judgment with the secular wish to pay
the last respects to the glorious dead. In Baroque Italy and under the Great
Monarchy in France, there were artists who achieved beautiful results in
this genre and made full use of a hturgy that could be understood by the
people, whose participation and appreciation of the genuine grandeur of
these ceremonies were essential to their success. When Berain's reign in
France came to an end, he was succeeded by Slodtz, who continued the
tradition. We find many of those curved lines which were so favoured by
the Baroque style, and some ingenious, rather capricious essays in the
manner of Berain, where scintillating figures of Fame flying above the
catafalque contrast with sedate groups offigures but are, on the whole, the 151
most successful elements of the composition.^^
When we come to the eighteenth century a certain petrifaction can be
felt creeping in, and the theatrical aspects seem not only to have lost
touch with religious sentiment, but threaten to stifle it. Yet funeral
ceremonies die hard, and when the great symbolic displays fell into
desuetude the use of palls, candles and plumes survived, and survive
today: a frozen conventiality that is a sad, dim reflection of the great
Baroque masterpieces.
The reredos was not an innovation of the Counter-Reformation. As the
Middle Ages drew to a close there was a widespread taste for decorating
altars with gilded and carved panels, or pictures of Christ, the Virgin, the
saints or scenes from the Bible. But the new upsurge ofCathohcism led to
such a flood of reredoses in nearly every country that one is justified in
looking upon them as a distinctive and most original characteristic of the
Baroque. Every altar became a building in its own right within the church
almost a small temple which was more Hkely to found its ovôi particular
cult than add to the general solemnity of the church. The statues of saints
which were placed in the niches of the reredoses brought a new element
into divine service: a cult of images that sometimes seems to evoke the
presence ofthe saints themselves. The wealth ofcolumns and designs made
the altar a highly decorative feature, and the impression was heightened by
the lighted candles and display of flowers when a service was being cele-
brated.
It soon came to the point that if there was a statue that was the object of
particular devotion, the reredos was formed as an immense frame round
it, or nearly enclosed it as though in a reliquary. In parish churches hardly
a new side chapel was founded without its reredos. Yet one wonders if
these magnificent pieces of decoration were not, in a great many cases,
really a cheap way out. The addition ofa reredos could quite transform the
appearance of a church, and give it a 'new look' without the expense of
rebuilding, for it was not only the high altars that were embeUished, but
also those in the side chapels; an altar and reredos might, on the other
hand, be placed against the pillars of the nave. The main reredos was
naturally the most imposing and often consisted of a central motifflanked
by wings. A simpler style, with less ornate decoration and probably only
two or three statues was usual for the other altars.^^
Needless to say, the new churches followed the taste of the day and
welcomed this taste for the reredos. It was when an old church was in
question that problems arose and the designers had to exert all their in-
genuity to adopt a modem reredos to an ancient setting. If a reredos was to
be placed in the choir or apse it must be adapted to the architecture and
this necessity often added to the mobihty of the design: when for instance
it resembled a screen with its wings folded back, it accidentally achieved
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
152
the effect of contrast which was so much sought after by Baroque artists.
Sometimes if the choir ended in a flamboyant stained-glass window,
this would be incorporated in the design for the reredos and the filtered
light used to pick out the lines ofthe cornice ofthe ornamental garlands.^^
We fmd, indeed, the utmost variety of form employed by the builders;
nor were they hindered by the objections raised by some contemporary
theorists that the reredos might make it impossible to carry out certain
rites, such as censing round the altar.^^ It was indeed true that, if there were
a reredos, the altar slab had to be against the wall; another disadvantage
was that, by its very elaboration, it tended to overwhelm the rites which
were celebrated in front of the altar. We must however try to enter into
the spirit ofthe age and understand that the building ofreredoses responded
to the ostentation ofa rehgion which sought to give the greatest brilliance
and solemnity to all its ceremonies and to erect, as it were, a triumphal
arch over every altar. Certainly reredoses were built throughout the Catho-
lic world; some of them were crudely carved by the local mason or de-
signed by unknown artists, and some executed by the greatest artists of the
time. They may have been constructed of wood, marble stone or stucco,
but painting played an essential part. Most often a picture was the centre-
piece of the reredos and the rest of the composition was designed round it
to set it off or recapitulate the subject. When the white stone contrasted
with the sombre or brilhant colour of marble columns, tliis could give
some beautiful effects, but at other times, especially when country artists
were employed, the polychromy is so intense that it verges on the ridicu-
lous: the statues are painted, blue or green urns shoot forth scarlet flames,
and baskets of fruit or flowers are picked out in violent colours.
Our forefathers put much thought and feeling into these reredoses and
if one wishes to study the rehgious feelings and taste ofseveral generations,
they constitute a mass of evidence that has been unduly neglected. Here
one can only touch on the subject to point out how they were historically
important for diffusing a certain type offeeling and thought and, by com-
paring some French examples to show the development of taste during
the seventeenth century.
M. Hautecoeur has very wisely observed that a reredos was always a
means of instructing or edifying the congregation.^* The choice of theme
was never haphazard; in most contracts the artist was told which saints
were to be portrayed, and sometimes it was even stipulated what expres-
sion they should have. The details of the decoration had a symbohc signi-
ficance, and the whole work might be a little treatise in rehgious history or
doctrine.^^ The preacher's words, the lessons contained in devotional or
theological books, or the chants of the canticles were made visible to the
faithful in the decorations of the reredos. Here, when there has not been
some scandalous effort to restore or rebuild,^^ the iconography reflects
very faithfully the rehgion of the Counter-Reformation, both in its main
trends and local adaptations. One need hardly say that the various orders

Franciscans, Carmelites, Benedictines, Dominicans or Mendicantstook
153
the opportunity of displaying their own saints.^' But the lay orders also
played a part. If a statue was erected ofSt Louis or St Ehzabcth ofHungary
it might not be merely a memorial to a royal saint, but such statues, even
in a parish church, might have sometliing to remind the worshipper that
here also there was some connexion with the Franciscan Order.
By and large, however, we may say that the iconography of the reredos
served as a commentary on the main religious dogmas: the Trinity, which
was recalled by the use of triangles in the decoration in cases where the
actual presentation ofThe Father, Son and Holy Ghost was omitted. Other
favourite themes were the Redemption, which gave the artist scope to
depict the life of Christ from His birth to His passion, the Eucharist, Our
Lord's Ascension, or the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The
Blessed Virgin was indeed paid the highest honours in this new cult of
saints and images. A scene of the Annunciation or of the Assumption
might be the main feature of a reredos which had been plarmed in honour
of some saint
perhaps of Peter and Paul, founders of the Church, or the

twoJohns, the Baptist and the Evangelist, St Sebastian, who was martyred,
or St Etienne who was a priest.
One fmds St Augustine, who had been venerated throughout the Middle
Ages, cheek by jowl with St Carlo Borromeo, one of the great figures of
the Counter-Reformation.
The Council ofTrent had ruled, most defmitely, that the authenticity of
reHcs displayed should be estabhshed, and that the saints honoured on the
altars of a church should be Christian and not semi-pagan figures from the
past. This did not greatly influence the piety of the common people who
considered that luck might be brought by sticking in pins or touching a
holy statue. Superstition was still rife, and it would not have been wise or
tactful of the Church to banish local saints who had their own following.
This had perhaps a more profound reason. The Baroque has often been
reproached for seeking for something startling or rich; so much so, that it
rarely presented scenes except of Paradise, and lost touch with every-
day life and the hardships which had to be borne by the ordinary man.
This contrasted strongly with the work of the Gothic sculptors who had
portrayed in detail the changing seasons through representations of the
humble tasks and daily hfe ofthe peasants. Then pillars were crowned with
capitals, or porches ornamented, with scenes ofpeasants pruning their vines,
ploughing, sowing, or going out with their scythes to reap the harvest. Or
there might be a smith at his forge or a weaver at his loom. The artist's
approach was quite diflerent. In the Middle Ages the artist was a reahst and
interested in concrete facts. In the Counter-Reformation the artist only
wished to display the glories of Heaven for the faithful, or, if he had to
surround an altar with a reredos, the figures would be confmed to the elect,
and were ofsaints or angels. One must take care, however, not to interpret
this wrongly or superficially, and ignore the piety which inspired these
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
1 54
works. Were not the saints, to whom the faithful prayed and whom they
represented primarily as intercessors, exceptional beings whose virtue had
been proved by martyrdom in the ancient persecutions or who had been
granted the mystic's vision of God? It is scarcely credible that the Church
would have chosen to propagate the Faith by an art that was unpopular:
indeed the piety of the Baroque artists shows considerable wisdom. The
reredoses themselves prove it, for here celestial glory is shown side by
side with examples of humble and everyday virtues displayed by the
saints. This is perhaps more apparent in country churches than in the
great cities, but if one examines the choice of saints it is obvious that
many have been chosen because they are patron saints of a trade and
would therefore appeal to many people. There is, for example, the case of
St Isidore, which G. Schreiber has called attention to.^^
St Isidore, a Castillian peasant, lived in the twelfth century and died in
1
1
30. He was canonized in the seventeenth century and the Church in 1622
ordained that 15th May should be his feast day. In a predominantly peasant
society this farm labourer could not fail to attract a large following. His
feast day fell on a date when spring was at its height, but when the fate of
the harvest was still a matter of hope or fear. To a countryman this saint
had hved, like them, on the land, and was someone who could understand
their prayers. He might protect their crops in the last decisive weeks before
reaping began.
His cult spread far beyond his native land into most remote country
districts and he was probably most venerated in the Tyrol. In France one
finds his statue on reredoses in the west; there is a fine one at Bouin
(Vendee) and another at Lanouee (Morbihan). More surprising perhaps is
to fmd a seventeenth century picture of him stiU preserved in a church
which was only rebuilt during the last century, or to discover that a plaster
figure has quite recently been ordered from the workshops of St Sulpice.
That was for an old church, but one wonders if a local cult does not still
survive
perhaps there had once been a reredos, no longer existing, that

had displayed a picture or statue of St Isidore.^^
Sometimes the choice of a patron saint seems most surprising and there
exists no apparent reason for selecting him. One wonders why St Xavier,
who had evangehzed
Japan
and the Indies, and was canonized for this in
1622, had any comiexion with making crops grow or helping the peasants
in their labours. It only becomes understandable when we reahze that the
Jesuits, especially those who were missionaries amongst the peasants of
Central Europe, suggested that one oftheir own saints might intervene for
them. He had braved tempests and peril by water in his travels, and was
surely thus entitled to protect them from storm or bless their crops by
gentle rain. In southern Germany he was a favourite saint of pilgrims. If
their cattle were struck down by an epidemic, the peasants would flock to
statues of him so that the water they brought back would be blessed and
when sprinkled round their cowsheds would stop the plague. Even the
Protestant peasants did not always despise the curative powers of Xavier 155
water {Xavierus Wasser)^^
The devotion shown to St Joseph was not only paid him because he had
shielded Our Lord in His infancy, which was a popular theme of the
Counter-Reformation. He became a symbol of the small-scale artisan
whose son, either as an apprentice or partner, helped him in the workshop.
A sculptor from Angers called Barauderie (i643?-i729) was commis-
sioned to carve a statue for the church in Allen<;on showing St Joseph
teaching the child Jesus
carpentry.*-'^ The same sculptor signed in
1694
a
contract with the Prior ofFontaine-Couverte, who was a dependant ofthe
Abbe of La-Roe (near Craon, in fact Mayenne), to erect a reredos for the
altar in the south transept, and a bas-relief ofthe Nativity to take the place
of the usual picture. It was, in fact, an Adoration
of
the Shepherds, carved in
white stone, and painted [108 &
109].
One ofthe shepherds brings a goose,
another comes with a cage ofturtle doves and a sheep to give in offering to
the Holy Child. They are typical of the peasants of the district and might
be carrying their tithes to the abbot or prior. The high reHef of the gilded
drapery and the angels' wings which form the corners of the design may
be ItaHan Baroque, but the scene itself recaptures the feeling of the Middle
Ages and, without any false naivete, manages to introduce these simple
rural customs into the scene of the Nativity.
The Hst could be extended indefinitely, but the examples already given
are enough to show that the saints depicted on a reredos might play an
important part in popular rehgious hfe, forming a link between the servi-
ces of the church and the everyday hfe of the people.
The iconography of the reredos was also used to spread and underline
what one might call sacramental ideas. They were not so much directly
religious but indirectly gained veneration from the solemnity of their
setting. One theme was the ideal of the family and another, though much
rarer, was that of the monarchy. The CathoHc Reformation did much to
encourage the honours paid to the Holy FamilySt Joseph, the Blessed
Virgin and the Holy Infantbut often this was curiously elaborated in the
decoration of the reredos. Figures of God the Father and the Holy Ghost
were placed above the Virgin and Christ, and images of St Arme and of
St John
the Baptist were brought in: a whole genealogical ramification
it might have been a New Testament Tree of Jesseand without any

doubt the principle of the family was bound up with the homage paid to
the Holy Family.*^
One can say the same about the idea of monarchy. Kings who had won
their place on the altars served, by spreading the cult of royal saints, to
increase the respect of the institution itself. Foremost was St Louis, and
then St Henri, St Ferdinand and St Ehzabeth ofHungary, whose close ties
with the Franciscan order gave them a wider range than other royal saints:
St Wenceslas or St Guy were little known outside Bohemia. There was
also the custom, which had come down from the Middle Ages, of using
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
156
royal features to portray a saint, and we find Anne of Austria as a model
for a saintly queen and often Louis XIII for St Louis.'*^ Again kings might
be remembered, not on the altar itself but in the decoration of the reredos
e.g.
portraits of Henri IV, Louis XIII and Louis XIV as a young man
adorn the reredos at Sarge (Sarthe). At Bourg de Batz (Loire-Atlantique)
there are two sculptured medallions, showing Louis XIV and Maria
Theresa in profile on the curiously turned panels which flank this reredos.
It would be absurd to credit these figures with a direct or too great an
influence on contemporary feeling: questions of dues and seignorial rights
were the matters that aroused most passion andaffected people's behaviour.
But if one dismisses them as quite negligible we fall into another error, for
the Baroque reredos had as great an emotional effect as any medieval
sculpture.
One maywell ask ifthis particular aspect ofFrench art should best be look-
ed on as classical or Baroque. Yet the question raises a wrong or at least a
specious problem. Probably in no other province of art is it more difficult
to find a common basis for what the artist thought fit and what his pubhc
expected. No doubt the intention was on both sides to decorate a sanc-
tuary, make the service more impressive and pay homage to the various
saints. But, once that has been said, it is extraordinary what differences one
finds. Nor does the question of date play an important part. The timelag
between the towns and the provincial countryside was so great that in
Brittany you can fmd Renaissance decorative motifs being used up to the
eighteenth century.
Two facts are, nevertheless, worth remembering: the building of rere-
doses was as it were in full flood during the whole of the seventeenth
century and the spate of commissions began to recede just when the spirit
embodied in the Academy of Architecture was beginning to spread
throughout France.
Often enough the reredos looks hke a building in its own right, but its
architectural quahties never strike us as much as its use as pure decoration.
It was expected to have a wealth of ornament and a profusion of sym-
boHsm and to introduce into a chapel a spectacular, rather theatrical
element.
Often the whole reredos depicts or comments on one scene, either by
juxtaposition of different aspects ofsome definite happening, or by several
successive scenes from a story. If the main picture were a large picture of
the Resurrection or the Assumption of the Virgin, it might be framed by
figures carved in wood or stone; on the pediment above, a bas-rehef
would present others, who showed by their gestures also their amazement
and awe at the miracle and invited the faithful to join with them.
At I'lsle sur Sorgue (Vaucluse) a superband a very Baroquereredos
has as a centrepiece a large picture of the Assumption
[106 &
107].
It is
framed by twisted pillars and crov^nned by a fine design of volutes and a
triangular pediment. From the volutes two angels, in relief, bend down 157
and appear dazzled by what they behold. Above the pediment there are
more carved figurestwo kneeling angels who venerate the Blessed
Virgin, now in Heaven and surrounded by a cloud.
At Bouin (Vendee) the main picture is of the Baptism of Christ:
Jesus,
John
the Baptist, and the Dove of the Holy Ghost with wings outspread.
But in the upper part of the rercdos, which is polychrome and carved,
God the Father leans out from a great circular mcdalhon depicting 'A
voice from Heaven: this is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.'**
hi both cases it is impossible to divorce the sculpture from the painting;
they are complementary and would lose half their significance by them-
selves. There is another equally dramatic rercdos to be seen just outside
Angers in a private chapel which has long been called 'Les Saints de la
Barre,' Here the sculptor Pierre Biardeau has chosen the well-known
theme ofthe InfantJesus playing with the Instruments ofthe Passion. They
are presented to him by angels; the Blessed Virgin is frightened and turns
away as if seeking help. Above is a figure of God the Father. At the sides
St James and St
John
stand calm and reassuring.
There are innumerable other examples we could quote. On the whole
the reredos is, indeed. Baroque, but it is difficult to determine whether
these artists were inspired by the Italian or by the Flemish taste for popular
display. In France several traditions are seen side by side during the seven-
teenth century.
Some fine examples in triptych form, with the central portion raised,
though all three boast superimposed orders, a generous display of flowers
and garlands and crowned with large pedimentstriangular, curved, or
brokenecho the reredoses and church porches which we fmd in Flanders.
Then the Fontainebleau Renaissance style has still a strong following : we
come across the straight marble pillars ornamented profusely with fohage,
caryatids in the form of Termes, shell-like niches, candelabras and arabes-
ques. Also there are those graceful elongated angels with their curled locks,
clothed so that the drapery gracefully discloses a leg, which are so unlike
the angels conceived either by Bernini or Borromini. Unless there is some
documentation to guide us it is difficult to give any precise date for these;
as M. Hautecoeur remarks, one might attribute a reredos built under
Louis XIV to a contemporary of Henri IV. The reredos at Guerande,
which is definitely dated 1650,
resembles a work of the Renaissance, yet
has also something in common with another reredos, even later (1660-65)
which was executed by the Angevin artist Gaspard Robelot at Saint-Jean-
de-Bere, and is one ofthe most beautiful in the Chateaubriant region [i 10]
.
It stands in the semi-domed choir ofan ancient Romanesque church and is
built up in three parts. The pilasters, the red and black marble columns and
the niches for statues add to the rhythm. White stonework is car\'ed into
a tangle of garlands, volutes, putti, and terminal car)\itids, with contrast
given by inlays of dark marble in the form of urns.
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
158
Everywhere twisted columns are used freely; but it would be childish
to attribute these to the influence ofBernini's baldacchino at St Peter's, for
as we have seen, the tradition goes back much farther. This particular type
ofdecoration seems to have had a great attraction for rustic craftsmen, who
revert to it constantly, enriching it with vines trailing up and, amongst the
bunches of grapes and tendrils, introducing figures of Christ and of the
Eucharist. One imagines that the clergy who commissioned or inspired
these reredoses favoured this motif as being an easily understood piece of
symbohsm.
Quite early on in the seventeenth century a more precise doctrine of
what a reredos should be spread through France in
1633 when
J.
Barbet
pubHshed Livre d' architecture d'autels et de cheminees. It was dedicated to
Cardinal RicheHeu, and was a collection of plates engraved by Abraham
Bosse. As Fehbien testifies in his Idee du peintre parfait, the influence ofsuch
books of engravings in forming taste and imposing rules was immense,
since the fashion for them did not abate for the next twenty years. They
poured out from the presses of the Rue Saint-Jacques, and the publishers
never stopped recommending them to a public which included the pro-
vinces.
Jean
Le Paultre, with great fertility of imagination, turned out plan
after plan for altars in the Roman style, for reredoses, and baldacchinos.^^
No one could deny that, with their rich ornamentation and dramatic
quaHties, they were Baroque. Great figures of angels framed or supported
the central picture, and pointed out the tabernacle and the painting with
vivid gestures while, above, cherubs would affectedly hold aloft a cross
which was the apex of this miniature building.^^ But gradually the use of
straight columns increased and monumental and architectural effects became
more popular. While elaborate decoration never disappeared from the
reredos, it took second place to the design as a whole. About 1690 the usual
characteristics were simple majestic columns crowned by capitals, a frieze
architrave, and triangular pediment. The shafts of the columns were still,
as a rule, entwined by garlands. The figures, no longer in flowing robes,
had a more sedate charm. The hveliness of Baroque was being replaced,
not by simpHcity, which no one wished for, but by the grave serenity of
Classic art. You may see it in the beautiful reredos with Corinthian col-
umns, wliich was put up by
Jean
Boffrand in theJesuit church at Vannes in
1685.
This was a period when there was less and less demand for reredoses in
France,^'^ though elsewhere, in Italy, southern Germany and along the
valley of the Danube, they became increasingly popular. But it was cer-
tainly not hereneither in Flanders, France nor in Central Europethat
the reredos, as an expression of Baroque, reached its fullest development.
From the last years of the seventeenth century to the middle of the eight-
eenth century, the reredos gave new inspiration to Spanish architects and
Baroque flourished once more. Previously it had been used to express the
tragic and almost savage genius of the country; now the compHcated Hnes 159
and forms seemed to sing a fantastic paean of gaiety.
The altars themselves were nearly overwhelmed by these magnificent
compositions which often took up every inch of the choir with lace-like
decoration of carved and painted woodwork, and which surrounded the
niches of saints, so dehcately portrayed that were they seen without that
background, they might be rather insipid. Respect for architectural values
was not lackingthere was a logic in the placing of the various panels,
although the shafts of the columns almost disappear under a wealth of
medalhons and decoration; even a garland offlowers may be crowned by
a capital. This churrigueresque style, which was created by the builders of
the reredoses and by church decorators, began in Salamanca, and some
have held that its initial inspiration is bound up with the writings of Gon-
gora and the passionate predilection of the University for elaborate and
subtle argument.
Thirty or forty years later this style swept all before it in another pro-
vince: Andalusia. One cannot ignore the reredos at Umbrete, near Seville.
It was built by Pedro Duque Cornejo in
1733
and its decoration achieves
a remarkable intensity.^ The rhythm which runs through the whole work
and the careful division into panels forbid us to speak of disorder, but the
virtuosity is quite bewildering. A Frenchman or an ItaUan would have
been too thoroughly grounded on antique models or classical doctrine ever
to have dared do such a thing. Latin America, on the contrary, adopted the
style without hesitation [viii].
In the seventeenth century France never really took sides in the struggle,
or rather the competition between a view of hfe which thought that the
world was reasonable and therefore led to a classical outlook (the doctrines
and rules propounded by the classical school were as much a confession of
faith as a method of control) and the beHef that imagination should reign
and choose what decoration it liked. Werner Weisbach has spoken of its
Janus'
face: 'ein doppeltes Gesicht', and others speak of a Classicism with a
Baroque tinge.
'*^
This variation can be understood easily enough when one
considers the variety of backgrounds, ambitions, and taste which are
characteristic of any large society. France was susceptible to both ItaHan
and Spanish influences, for these Mediterranean countries had been the
first to profit from the new economic revolution and, in consequence, the
first to challenge traditional values. But by tliis time French society itself
had developed in so many directions that it could not but add something
new to what it had taken over. During the seventeenth centur)^ tliere is the
great flowering of literature; the rise of great fortunes wliich could be
spent in commissions for buildings, sculptures or paintings, and Versailles,
which seemed justly to reflect the glory of the King, and the power of the
kingdom. All these contributed something to the formation of a purely
French style. It was a style in which grandeur \vas allied with moderation,
M
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
1 60 jubilation was restrained, by taste, and one which eventually became a
classical model to be copieda true successor of the Renaissance, Greece
and Rome,
The Classic style had conquered, yet however richly variegated it
might be, it could not express everything. France still maintained values
that might be called Baroque and this is, surely, a witness of her vitahty.
BOOK III
CHAPTER VIII
When we turn to England and ask whether it welcomed or rejected the
taste for Italian Baroque, we find a curious background. In the seventeenth
century, which was above all the century ofthe Church and the monarchy,
the throne had twice to face revolt, and a king had been pubhcly executed.
Economically the great expansion and power that had begun under Eliza-
beth continued.
The question is not easy to answer because ofthe complexities and con-
tradictory interests in EngHsh society at the beginning of the century, and
even more so because England, even when she might adopt the prevalent
ideas or tastes of the age, gave them a characteristic twist.
In recent years we have seen the 'discovery' of EngHsh Baroque, and
British historians have pubHshed studies of it which are usually learned,
intelligent and balanced.^ On the Continent one is often tempted to think
that there has been a misuse of terms and that a fashionable label has been
stuck on to works which are much more often classical; or at least, one's
first impression of them is that they differ so greatly from the Baroque
creations of Italy and Germany that any idea of a common origin or,
indeed, ofany affinity is untenable. Let us get rid ofthis inherited prejudice,
and, when we have discarded it, try not to fall into the opposite error of
thinking that the new explanation is the only vaHd one.
Was the Renaissance of Tudor times followed by a Stuart Baroque or
by the classical style ofthe eighteenth century under the Hanoverians? The
facts are more comphcated and more dramatic. How could it be otherwise
in a country whose prosperity was increasing rapidly due to the expansion
of its commercial activity and the revival of its internal economy; Added
to this there was a prolonged rehgious crisis, when England hesitated be-
tween various expressions of the Reformation in her search for what
would best suit her needs. Many solutions were tried; each found favour
in the eyes of one or another government, but none commanded enough
support from a deeply divided pubhc to be accepted unreservedly by more
than one particular group.
The traditional picture of England at that time is well enough known:
a mercantile nation which was now sending out its fleets on every ocean of
the world, since the old maritime routes over the North Sea, the Baltic and
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
164
the White Sea no longer sufficed; an England that rivalled Portugal and
Spain and began to colonize the New World to the north of the Spanish
Empire; a country on the threshold of an economic domination that was
to last for two hundred years. This was an England, in fact, which already
showed signs of what her future was to be: a country which, by breaking
the pretensions of absolute monarchy, had founded the basis of poHtical
freedom and set an example to the rest of Europe. But this is an abstract
picture, prejudiced, and influenced by our knowledge of subsequent de-
velopments. One could just as easily, if not more justifiably, talk of an
England isolating herselffrom the Continent and owing what Httle she did
know ofEurope principally to her contacts with her nearest neighbours
France, the Netherlands, or Germany. England was royahst, and the King
did not lack support when he set out to affirm his prerogatives. And
England was still largely feudal with a population that was predominantly
rural, where the enclosure of common land was aimed not so much at
increasing the size of the market for farm products as the immediate im-
provement ofthe land enclosed: better crops, cattle and milk and an easier
hfe for the farmer. The open field system was broken down in the interests
ofthe individual producer. England, in short, in spite ofchanges, remained
medieval, for even while these changes were going on there was a wish to
keep the spirit of ancient times aHve in EngHsh manners and institutions.
People felt that these traditions incorporated a hving truth which it was
wise to preserve.
In the great brick buildings of Tudor times we see the hall lit by great
windows, and the facade still retaining turrets of an older design, a com-
promise between the traditional and the new forms of the Renaissance
which had been until now known only in French or Dutch models. This
was the England of the first two courtyards at Hampton Court, a strong
and stubborn England. It changed, and very considerably so, from one
decade to the next, and presently (ifwe can use thisjaded word in its seven-
teenth century sense) astonished Europe by its daring innovations. Never-
theless England obstinately preserved a native caution which served as a
breakwater: when waves ofnew ideas or taste came rolhng in from abroad
they reached the shores ofEngland gently, though they brought the seeds
of something hitherto unknown which were to grow into a new culture.
Curiosity about these new trends was first aroused in aristocratic circles.
The great career of Inigo
Jones (1573-1652)^ was due to the fact that the
Earl ofArundel was a connoisseur ofthe arts. When he discovered that the
son ofa London draper was exceptionally talented as a designer, he decided
to send him to study in Italy. Inigo Jones was therefore able to spend some
considerable time in Venice, assimilating the masterpieces ofSansovino and
Palladio, and seeing the latest buildings being put up by Scamozzi. He was
also a fanatical theatre-goer at a time when the Venetian actors excelled.
On his way back Inigo Jones visited Denmark, where Christian IV asked
him to draw up plans for the palaces of Rosenborg and Friedriksborg. He
ENGLAND
then continued his journey to London in the entourage of Princess Anne,
165
who was to marry James I. Later on he paid a second visit to Italy, and
also studied in France. Then, when he fmally settled down in his own
country, he took up duties as architect to the Queen and the Prince of
Wales.
Though his work as a decorator and producer of court masques was
Baroque, as an architect hiigo Jones introduced Palladianism to England,
which with its pure straight lines and harmonious proportions, founded a
durable, if not continuous tradition. It was due to him that Palladianism
came straight to London from Venice, without any contamination of
either local or foreign influences, indeed, one might almost say without
modification or change ofany kind.^ The summer residence which Queen
Anne wished to build on the banks ofthe Thames and which was actually
finished under another Queen, Henrietta Maria, might well have been one
of those villas built by Palladio on the mainland near Venice or in the
neighbourhood of Vicenza. Today it is seen against the majestic buildings
of Greenwich Hospital, but contrasts with them in its restrained propor-
tions, the quahty of its forms, the absence of all striving for effect, that
refined elegance wliich appears so simple but is only achieved by the ut-
most skill
[113].
One feels the same artistic quahty in the facade of the
Queen's Chapel, Marlborough House with its accent on the great window
with two porticoes and the central pane arched, which evokes the fme
compositions of straight lines and arcs, going back to the pure models of
antiquity, which Alberti was the first to employ.
During these years Inigo Jones
was busy rebuilding the Banqueting Hall
in Whitehall [114].^
The pilasters of the side bays throw up the shghtly
projecting central portion where three bays are more richly decorated by
attached columns with well-defmed capitals. Above is a frieze ornamented
with garlands, and the whole is crowned by a balustrade. This intense feel-
ing for decoration is seen also on the ground floor, where the pediments of
the windows are alternatively triangular and segmental, introducing a
rhythm in nice contrast to the cornice ofthe first storey, and an elaboration
which one would not find in a purely classical building. Yet that is an
essentially Palladian characteristic, and one can understand how some art
historians have classed Palladio, who showed himself so rigid a doctrinaire
in his Four Books on Architecture, amongst the Mannerists. There is no need
to be casuistical about these terms and deny tliat Inigo Jones
was classical.
Later on, in an England that had adopted a certain amount ofBaroque, we
find critics invoking him and preaching a return to his style as an alternative
to the new trends.^ More especially the western facade built for St Paul's,
the piazza of Covent Garden, and even the general plan for the palace
of Whitehall, all show by the use of columns for the porticoes, the care
for proportion and the proper use of the ordersfor example, the pyra-
mids and volutes in his designsa style that was directly based on the
Itahan Renaissance. But it was not the Italy of Rome or Florence that he
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
1 66 reflected, but that of Venice. Whether he were planning a work in the
Grand Manner or designing a small palace he would recommend his aris-
tocratic patrons something which had found favour with the wealthy-
patricians of the Serene Repubhc. The designs for masques for which he
became so famous show a Venetian influence, just as we can detect echoes
of Venetian music in the work of Purcell.
Under the early Stuarts other characteristics closely aUied to Baroque
suddenly blossomed forth in England. Both sovereigns attached the highest
importance to the royal power, and James I wished to force every subject
to acknowledge his Divine Right. Because of that he detested Rome,
whose pretensions to authority might prove a counter-balance to his own;
but the Anghcan Church he considered to be bound up with the monarchy
'No bishops, no king' he said. Those who moved in the royal circle took
the ItaHan courtier as a model.^ Their hves were to be surrounded by
luxury, but they did not call upon the Enghsh to furnish it. They preferred
to import works of art from abroad and ask expert advice on choosing
them. It was very like what had happened, a hundred years earher, in
France under Francois I or under Rudolph II more recently in Prague. The
Enghsh became collectors. They were certainly eclectic: Flemish, Dutch,
and German artists seemed to please them no less than the Itahans, though
on the whole Italian works were preferred.
Two personahties stand out as great connoisseurs. The foremost was
Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel. He possessed an innate appreciation of
beautiful things and a discernment which was refined and confirmed by
studying the old masters. He was also keenly interested in helping any
artistic talent he came across by his patronage: without him, indeed, the
development ofthe arts in England would have been lamentably different.
Then there was Buckingham, who amassed a collection that rivalled
that of the Earl of Arundel. As a political figure he will always be re-
membered in Enghsh history; his audacity, his fevered lust for power and
honours reminds one of his contemporary, Wallenstein, who was a truly
Baroque figure.
There is a third name which should be added to these: the second son of
James I who became Prince of Wales upon the death ofhis brother Henry,
and eventually succeeded to the throne in 1625 as Charles I. Like his brother
he had been brought up to appreciate the arts and was equally responsive
to them. Then, as Prince of Wales, he went on a voyage to Spain for his
betrothal to the Infanta. The projected marriage fell through, but this
journey gave him an opportunity to see the Spanish collections and to
develop and enrich his own culture.
When he became king he used his ambassadors as agents to buy works
of art, especially Sir Henry Wotton in Venice, who was himself a dis-
tinguished dilettante, and Fielding, 2nd Earl of Denbigh, a patron of
music to whom Manelli and Ferrari had dedicated their books of cantatas.
In 1628 when the Duke of Mantua was forced to sell the magnificent
^^1
^m^^
V Pozzo extended the arcliitccture ot the church ot Sant Ignazio by an optical
illusion. This seems to enlarge the nave under a sk)' ot dazzhng hght, in which
St Ignatius is pierced to the heart by a ray from the heart of God
ENGLAND
collection ofthe Gonzagas, its pictures by Correggio, Raphael, Caravaggio 167
and Titian, and some antique statuary were all shipped over to London.
Under the Commonwealth this collection was sold. Its masterpieces
were dispersed and are now scattered round the museums of Europe: the
Correggios and The Death
of
the Virgin by Caravaggio are in the Louvre,
and Charles Kby Titian is in Madrid, so that now it is a feat ofimagination
to realize what a prodigious collection was there to inspire the English
artists, and show them the most accomplished technique in the world. The
whole collection was not scattered. At Hampton Court one can still see the
great cartoons o Caesar's Triumph which were painted by Mantegna and
his pupils. It is an ode to power, superb artistically, and a work that might
well inspire pride and a longing for glory in any prince.
This royal collection was the school where Van Dyck learnt his craft. It
must surely have been those sumptuous imperial portraits of Titian that
inspired him in his paintings ofCharles I [i
17].
In the Louvre portrait there
seems to be an ideaUzation ofa great gentleman ofthe seventeenth century;
the physical elegance of a cavaUer, the refinement of exquisite courtesy in
the gestures, the taste shown in the choice of sober and harmonious dress.
In the Buckingham Palace portrait we see the King in armour riding as
though in triumph through the stone archway, which is decorated with
hanging draperies and coats of arms to heighten the effect.
The portraits which Van Dyck painted of the royal family and of the
great nobles are of great importance if one wishes to recapture the atmos-
phere of the Stuart court and understand how much it was in sympathy
with the new ideas. In 1629 a diplomatic mission sent to London was
headed by Rubens and gave Charles I an opportunity to meet him per-
sonally. He asked the artist to decorate the ceiling of the new Banqueting
House, and Rubens painted an apotheosis of James Ia vigorous, bois-
terous and finely coloured work that shows an affinity with the work of
Veronese in the Doge's Palace (here we see once again the Venetian in-
fluence in England) which is no less a major achievement of Baroque
painting
[116].
Commissions were given to foreign artists in every field. In this the
Queen exercised some considerable influence, nor must it be forgotten
that she herselfwas French. Henrietta Maria was the daughter ofHenri IV,
who died too early for her to know him, and of Marie de Medici. Her
mother's influence upon her was profound and she inherited the Medici
passion for innovation, for refashioning all her surroundings, and also took
a deUght in patronizing innumerable artists. Hubert Le Sueur, who had
worked for Henri IV, was summoned from France to London, w^here he
carved statues ofthe King and Queen and a bust of Charles I in the classical
manner.
Bernini, who was still the acknowledged 'king of arts', was also ap-
proached.
Just after he had received a commission from Paris for a bust of
RicheUeu he was asked to do one of Charles I.
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
i68
Bernini, however, could not leave Rome and Van Dyck made some
sketches of the King to send to him, full face, in profile and three quarters.
The bust was a complete success and Henrietta Maria had a letter sent to
Bernini to say how satisfied she was and 'she wished to have a similar bust
executed by the same hand' based on the portraits of her which were en-
closed with her letter.'
Then there was a Dutchman, the charming painter Lely, who came to
Hve in London during the last years of Charles's reign. He began by paint-
ing in the manner ofVan Dyck, and not tiU the Restoration did he develop
his own style, when he painted the famous series of all the court
beauties.
There was also an exiled Czech whom Arundel had brought over from
Germany, the great engraver Hollar, who became drawing-master to the
young princes. His mastery of line and a profound sensibility for nature
made him one ofthe earhest landscape painters in England and no one has
better evoked 'in that elusive poetry of his, the atmosphere of England
three hundred years ago' [140].^
But again his main work was done under
the Restoration, though his love for England, which made him return
after the Commonwealth, had been bom when he first came there under
Charles I.
After some hesitation Charles decided that St Paul's should be rebuilt.
This great cathedral in the heart of London played an essential part in the
Hfe of the citizens, who for the most part ignored it as a church and turned
the nave into a place where merchants met to discuss their affairs, or idlers
to gossip. But in 1561 it was damaged by fire, the spire fell, and the walls
of the nave were badly cracked. A royal gift from Queen Elizabeth, the
funds which every diocese had been asked to contribute, and even special
taxes imposed for its restoration had not raised enough money to restore
it. Charles I looked upon it as a point ofhonour to carry out what his pre-
decessors had failed to do. Working together with Archbishop Laud, who
wished to restore regular services in St Paul's, in 163 1 the King reconsti-
tuted the committee for the rebuilding and, two years later, appointed
Inigo
Jones
as surveyor.
It was decided that in restoring this medieval church the new additions
should be in the Renaissance style. The west front was to be entirely re-
modelled. There was to be a portico of great Corintliian columns, with a
balustrade, supporting the statues of
James I and Charles I, which was
thrown out in front ofthe main building where the large bays illuminating
the nave were still preserved. The portico itselfwas drawn together by two
large volutes and obehsks placed at each side of the central gables. Inigo
Jones
himself thought that this western porch of St Paul's was one of the
finest things he ever designed. Built up round the central motif of the
Corintliian columns, this clever, Italianate and perfectly proportioned por-
tico formed a magnificent approach to St Paul's. It might reflect the royal
taste, but the fact that it was in a foreign style and had cost a great deal of
ENGLAND
money made the Londoners dislike it so much that Charles I became even
169
more estranged from his people.
The Revolution had already broken out and Charles was almost a
prisoner at Hampton Court when his next plans for building took shape.
He disliked Wliitchall, with its jumble of buildings in various styles. He
wished to give it some coherence, enlarge it, and make it one of the most
beautiful palaces in Europe.
biigo Jones and
John Webb, who was his assistant and the most devoted
of his disciples, prepared a grandiose scheme which would include the
Banqueting House.^ The plans remained true to the Palladian tradition^^
but the vast dimensions seemed rather to express a desire for magnificence
than any artistic achievement, and to set forth an ideal of monarchy which
could only acerbate the feelings of those who were already in opposition
to the King
[115].
The fasliion for the cosmopolitan, Itahan, and often
Baroque style was so bound up with court circles that it was rejected by
the country as a whole. It had been able to modify the appearance of sites
by this or that construction, but it had not yet left any deep impression at all.
Society had changed. Progress in agriculture had assured many land-
lords, usually ofnew families, of a respectable fortune, and commerce had
created an even larger class of nouveaux riches. They wished to build
houses, furnish them, and decorate them lavishly, but their taste tended to
choose the traditional in preference to anything novel. At Wilton or
Coleshill the Itahan style might be triumphant, but elsewhere the Eliza-
bethan still goes on, almost as though it were chosen as a dehberate gesture
against the new fashion.
On top ofthat, the Church ofEngland disliked it as smacking ofPopery
or at least of being contaminated by foreign influences. The old churches
which embodied the zealous faith of the Middle Ages seemed to be the
only worthy setting for Divine Service, and ifnew churches had to be built
the clergy preferred to copy an ancient model. There was also a strong
religious feeling amongst the smaller landovra.ers and some bourgeois
circles that was austerely puritanical. It condemned any display; to pour
out large sums ofmoney seemed to be a defiant gesture against the laws of
economy and an insult to the poor.
Thus both the strength of native traditions and the new progressive
trends combined against the Baroque in England. She might ahnost be
considered as the pole of resistance to the new intellectual forces which
radiated from Italy. But in spite of this, the achievement of a small circle
ofpeople remained.
The Revolution was not particularly set upon destroying these things,
though by fits and starts it was both iconoclastic and anarchical. The
revolutionary leaders were far too much absorbed by the war to have any
theories about style. Puritanism is in principle no more opposed to beauty
and the arts than is Calvinism, provided they do not in any way represent
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
170
what are considered dubious pleasures in an attractive light. OUver
Cromwell had his portrait painted by Robert Walker in a pose that is
directly inspired by the picture by Titian of General del Vasto addressing
his troops.-"^^
Pembroke went on giving instructions to Pratt about the building ofhis
house at Coleshill; for a great number of Englishmen or Scotsmen the
whole of the Revolution passed over their heads, leaving everyday hfe
practically unchanged.
ItaHan art, especially if it were soberly classical, was not condemned by
the rebels. But the revolutionaries, by breaking with the court and the
aristocracy, cut themselves offfrom the most cultivated society ofthe time,
which had shown the most enhghtened and fruitful interest in the arts.
This society was an exclusive and eclectic chque, who felt a deep and not
merely fashionable sympathy with the Italian way of Hfe and ItaHan
thought. It inclined to a taste for the Baroque and the artists fell in with
their aristocratic patrons' wishes.
After the Civil War many ofthese left England. Already the Queen and
the princes, and many of those they patronized, had fled the country. The
inteUectuals and the patrons were scattered, but it was not simply the sup-
porters of the monarchy who fled. There were, for instance, two Protes-
tant Czechs who left England for quite different reasons. In the case of
Hollar it was almost certainly that he felt bound in loyalty to follow his
patrons. But Comenius had other reasons. He had come over to England
to propagate a new method ofteaching which would, in the long run, lead
to peace and unity between all Christians. When he arrived to fmd his
friends spHt by the Civil War into two irreconcilable camps, he decided
that the Revolution was a catastrophe that had wrecked his mission.^^
Many an artist could say the same. There was no longer any talk of com-
pleting the palace at Whitehall. It became instead an auction-room for the
sale of the royal pictures. No doubt it was unavoidable: the Treasury funds
were depleted and had to be replenished. Yet for certain Puritan elements
this must have been a joyous occasion, a symbolic act of throwing out of
the country the whole sensuous fictional paraphemaha that had led princes
astray by pandering to their self-importance or inspiring them to demand
absolute obedience.
These English exiles, wandering about the Continent and sometimes
reduced to dire poverty, had at least an opportunity of learning at first
hand what was happening in France and the Netherlands. During the
Revolution and Commonwealth in England, France was also torn by
Civil War, and the great art treasures coUected by Cardinal Mazarin were
in danger. But France was a country that had built much that was new,
and there were many art critics from the Richelieu circle who were trying
to work out underlying principlesthe clique of Sublet, Des Noyers and
Freart. Holland at this time was striving to form an individual style
through a synthesis of classical learning and local tradition.
ENGLAND
Six years elapsed between the end of the Fronde in France and the Res-
171
toration in England. When in 1660 Charles II regained his throne, there
was no question ofhim regaining the powers ofabsolute monarchy which
his father had enjoyed, but there was the opportunity for a new experi-
ment in the art of monarchy and the question was how Charles II would
approach it. He did not inherit the fme taste of his father or his liking for
grandeur, but he was equally determined to provide a suitable background
for himself and also to enhance the prestige of England. The plans for re-
building Whitehall were reconsidered, but found too expensive; the de-
signs for St Paul's were approved. He was, above all, keenly interested in
restoring Windsor Castle, at least to make it habitable and to remodel the
staircases and the Chapel Royal. Antonio Verrio was called in to do tliis.
He might well be described as Neapolitan, although he was bom and
brought up in Lecce, a small town that already had possessed many dis-
tinctly Baroque works. It was from there that he went to Naples to work
in the studio of Luca Giordano, and later was admitted to the Royal
Academy in Paris. His style was to a certain extent Baroque, and no one
could have presented the theme of monarchy better than he did. In his
work the various elements ofthe Baroque and classical combine to produce
a style that is typical of the England of the Restoration.
John
Evelyn had a considerable influence with the artists of the age,
since he was a shrewd connoisseur of both ItaHan and French art. In 1664
he translated a book by Roland Freart which had been pubHshed in Paris
fourteen years previously. It was Le Parallele de Varchitecture antique et
moderne, and Evelyn's translation was a token of his admiration for the
neo-classicists. Painters such as Lely or Kneller, who were receiving more
and more commissions from court circles, adopted the manner ofMignard
and other French masters, though the influence of Van Dyck and the
Dutch school still persisted.
The sculptors Stone, Bushnell and Quellin had all been to Italy and had
learnt the Baroque style, though Duquesnoy had perhaps as great an in-
fluence on them as Bernini. In the moving statue by Bushnell of Charles I
the pathos certainly derives from Bernini, and Arnold Quellin's tomb of
Thomas Thynne in Westminster is undoubtedly Baroque. One might call
the EngUsh artists synthetists who were well aware ofthe richness ofwork
being done on the Continent and selected what they liked or what might
fit in with a particular commission.
The key position of Surveyor General of Works, which had been held
by Inigo
Jones, would have been given, one would have thought, to Jolin
Webb, who certainly expected it. But Charles II gave it to Dendham,
who was httle but a figurehead. He had, however, a young and talented
mathematician as his assistantChristopher Wren. The architect Hugh
May, who had built Eltham Lodge in a style showing Dutch influence,
was appointed Paymaster.
John
Webb had already presented the King
with a new plan for Greenwich, and the King Charles' block, which was
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
172
built between 1663 and 1669, is an important part of the palace; but per-
haps it is even more important in bringing Wren to the fore, the man who
was to become England's greatest architect.^^
Christopher Wren was bom in 1623 and his background was essentially
Church of England; his father was Dean of Windsor and his uncle was a
bishop, so that neither by temperament nor family connexions had he any
sympathy with the Puritans or the military dictatorship. He himself had
no ambitions to become an architect. He was a mathematician, and in its
early years a member of the Philosophical Club at Oxford, which was
later to develop into the Royal Society and claim Robert Boyle,
John
Evelyn and Isaac Newton as members. In considering Wren it is most im-
portant to remember this. Like Borromini or Guarini he was fascinated by
the ideal combination of Lines and volume, and being a mathematician he
might have become an engineer. Indeed, when Tangier was ceded to Eng-
land by Portugal as part of the dowry of Queen Catherine, he was asked
to inspect the fortifications. It was only later on that the architect in him
took precedence over the engineer; but once Wren had decided on his
vocation, he was determined not to rely on theory alone, but to travel and
see architectural masterpieces for himself.
He decided to go to France, which had again won world-wide renown
as an artistic centre, and thence, if possible, to Italy. In the summer of 1665
he arrived in Paris and showed great interest in the buildings of Mansart
but even more in the work of Le Vau, especially the centre wing of the
Louvre and the chateau of Vaux-le-Vicomte. By an odd coincidence he
met Bernini in Paris. It was apparently a short meeting: it was a day when
the great Itahan was so suspicious and bad-tempered that Wren was only
allowed a few minutes to look at Bernini's designs. Why the 'king of art'
should have behaved like this to someone who was, as an architect, a
novice, is difficult to understand. It is doubtful whether so brief a meeting
could have had a lasting influence on Wren, but of course one cannot be
certain. It is certain that he held long talks with French architects, and
shared their excitement about the schemes for rebuilding the Louvre and
possibly remodelling Paris. Vaux-le-Vicomte, the apartments ofthe Queen
Mother in the Louvre, the TuUeries, the Palais-Royal, the new Beauvais
mansion that had just been finished by Lepautre, the Luxembourg, the
suburb ofMarais and the new churches all enlarged his horizons and had a
lasting influence on his outlook. A few months after his return to England
he was asked to submit designs for the rebuilding of St Paul's.
Once it had been decided to remodel the cathedral radically. Wren pro-
posed that a rotunda should be built in the centre of this Gothic building
and become the dominant feature of the whole, a triumph as it were of
Renaissance and classical taste over barbarism. But, before any decision had
been reached on this, the Great Fire broke out on the night of2nd Septem-
ber 1666. It started in a baker's shop in the East End and raged for several
days.
ENGLAND
Old St Paul's and all the surrounding buildings were burnt down. Even-
173
tually it was realized that there was no point in trying to repair the charred
and cracked walls, but that an entirely new cathedral would have to be
built. Obviously the one sensible thing to do was to make a clean sweep,
clear the ruins, and plan a new city round a new cathedral. The space had
been almost providentially provided, for no one could ever have attempted
to expropriate the old tenants or meet the cost ofbuying up the houses and
land. The reasonable and most attractive design that Wren drew up for
rebuilding London, with its logical placing of streets and squares, came to
nothing, nor was he even granted as much space as he wished as surround-
ings for the cathedral. Still, St Paul's, which was building from
1675 to
1712, was at least entirely new and the work of one man, though Wren
frequently modified his plans. The church as we see it today is a synthesis
of several designs and a witness to Wren's never-ending quest for im-
provement [119].^^ The intense aesthetic pleasure which one is bound to
experience when visiting St Paul's is also mingled today with an immense
sense of relief that this great cathedral survived, almost miraculously, the
bombardments of the Second World War.
Wren had to submit his designs to the Commissioners and it was the
second plan, rather than the first, that really concerned him. In the library
of St Paul's it is still possible to see the model in wood of Wren's favourite
design, which would have been outstanding in its beauty even in that age
[120].
The design was a Greek cross, but the ends of the arms were rounded
and superbly modulated, which not only enriched the interior but gave
the exterior of the building a superb sweep of curving lines. To the west
there was to be a portico and a pediment and an oval-domed ante-chapel.
The main feature was a great dome, supported by pilasters and arches, and
crowned with an elegant lantern that contrasted with the severely dignified
lines of the main building. The interior was dominated by the circle of
eight great pillars which supported the drum and cupola. Fluted pilasters
of the colossal order were used to modify any effect of heaviness. The
arches, too, were differentiated, and those framing the entrance to the four
arms ofthe cross were wider and taller than those in between. The Hghting
both by large bays and the tall windows ofthe drum was an essential part
of Wren's aim to give 3 clear view of the altar and the apse.
Though one may be reminded ofthe Pantheon, or discover the influence
of Bramante or Michelangelo, it was a very individual and graceful in-
vention, which might indeed please Wren, but did not please the Com-
missioners. It was too reminiscent of St Peter's in Rome to find any favour
with the Church of England. This is understandable enough. The clergy
and the parishioners suspected that Wren had been corrupted by foreign
influences, and tliis would give the Puritans good cause to complain. It was
decided that even if a classical style were to be allowed, there must be a
nave and two aisles. Wren had to give way.
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
174
In 1675 he submitted another plan that was not entirely what he wanted,
but one which he thought nevertheless could be made into something
beautiful. This time it was in the form ofa Latin cross with a nave and two
aisles. The main building consisted of six bays and the long choir, ter-
minated by an apse, consisted of three. Over the large crossing was a
circular drum supporting a low dome whence there sprung a tail pagoda-
like steeple. Outside the north and south sides was a small facade of two
storeys in the Roman manner; the principal entrance to the cathedral, a
colonnaded portico which formed a vestibule, had two small shallow
cupolas which somewhat recall the portico that had been done by Inigo
Jones.
The Commissioners accepted these plans, which became known as the
Warrant Design, but in the warrant it was laid down that Wren would
have 'the hberty, in the execution of his work, to make some variation,
rather ornamental than essential, as from time to time he should see
proper'. It was still not St Paul's, but one was coming nearer to it.
The first stone was laid on 21st June 1675 and building went on un-
interrupted, but at a very slow pace. It was begun at the east end but
shortly afterwords work was started at other points of the chantry. It was
however a long time before St Paul's, as we see it, took on its definite
shape, a period which saw economic changes, pohtical revolutions, and
wars.
But this very slowness in building gave Wren time to mature his plans,
to study more profoundly work being done by his contemporaries and to
introduce substantial changes in the Warrant Design.
Since stone blocks could not be found large enough for the original
colossal order ofcolumns for the portico, this had to be abandoned and the
present plan, where the portico has two storeys ofcoupled columns, six on
the ground floor and four above, was substituted. The whole is crowned by
a triangular pediment, adorned by a bas-rehef and three large statues
placed at its points
[118].
It was not until 1697 that the church, or rather the chancel, was con-
secrated for a service to celebrate the Peace of Ryswick, but even seven
years later, when Queen Anne wished to celebrate the victory ofBlenheim
by a Te Deum, the dome and the towers had not even been begun. It
needed yet another eight years before the building was finished, and there
was little in common between it and the design that had been approved
thirty-seven years earher. But the differences themselves bear witness to
the evolution of Wren's genius, which not only retained some of the
grandeur of liis Great Modelhad indeed expanded itbut which was a
result ofassimilation and meditation upon the works then being erected in
Rome and classical buildings in Paris,
The chancel was the first part of the cathedral to be begun and to be
finished, and here the influence ofthe Inigo Jones' tradition is most marked.
Then when we come to the facades of the transepts, we might be in six-
fi;
i
5 J ftf
T
=p
X
9
11:1
1
113 The Queen's House at Greenwich, buik by Inigo Jones, has all the regularity
and simplicity of Palladio's villas in Terre Fcrnie, not far from Venice
114 The Banqueting Hall in Whitehall, by Inigo Jones, shows a break with the
English tradition. Again it is Palladian, with its elegant strength, general use of
decorative detail, garlands, cornice in reHef and balustrade
4-n-tj;
\lnWM
mmjmmm'i
s^î
L^^î^
Inigo Jones's projected design for
the Palace of Whitehall. England,
like the other great European Pow-
ers, had ambitious designs for royal
residences, but their very size made
them impracticable
ii6
Rubens's subject for the ceiling of
the Banqueting Hall was the apoth-
eosis of James I, a mythological
poem in honour of the King, in the
manner of the Venetians who were
wont to celebrate the glory of their
beautiful cit\-
:;^r^
^^-î^K^^"
^'
Tîi^^,
J^^
^^^^l**-^
hm^
Van Dyck was a pupil of Rubens and a close triend ot the Italian painters. Here
Charles I is represented as a personification of the Baroque knight by one of
the greatest portrait painters of his time
Ii8
w
A
^
^^^
^'s^
119
St Paul's Cathedral in London (above) is one of the finest monuments of the
seventeenth century. Here the lessons of the Renaissance are fused with those of
Italian Baroque, left: The facade, a two-storeyed classical portico with elegant
towers in the style of the Baroque architects of Italy, below: Wren's favourite
(rejected) model; the effect was too Roman to satisfy either the partisans of the
Gothic tradition or the austerity of the Puritans
^z-
IP
RIGHT. The interior of St Paul's
with the traditional nave and two
side aisles, and the vast opening of
the dome extending over the arms
of the transepts
121
LEFT. The unforgettable dome of St
Paul's (above) bears comparison
with St Peter's and the hivalides. It
gives an incomparable impression
of grandeur, the result of refmed
architectural perception. Between
two columns are niches screening
buttresses. The graceful apse (be-
low) shows the influence of Inigo
Jones and Palladio
122
123
ABOVE RIGHT. The garden front of
Hampton Court, by Wren, less
impressive than Versailles, and at
once symmetrical and fuU of inter-
est: a model of seventeenth-century
Roval art
BELOW RIGHT. Verrio's painting, on
the grand staircase at Hampton
Court, with its antique setting, ani-
mation and symbolism, brings the
decorative splendour of the Bar-
oque to an English palace
LEFT. The belfry of St Vcdast's, by
Wren, elegant and varied, unites
the soaring quahty of the Gothic
spire with the refinements of Bor-
romini's campaniles
124
127 Greenwich Palace and Hospital, a harmonious blend of styles, superbly situated
on the banks of the Thames, is one of the fmest architectural groups in Europe
The towers (below), by Vanbrugh, have the same elegant grace and strength
128 as the towers and the dome of St Paul's
129
At Castle Howard, Vanbrugh, England's great Baroque architect, has multiplied
the decorative elements, emphasising the reliefs in the manner of the architects
of Central Europe, above: The east fa(;ade. below: The central pile, where
the huge, long pilasters rhythmically break up the fa(,"ade
130
Country Life
131 Generously proportioned and monumental without being heavy, Blenheim
Palace, by Vanbrugh, remains one of the most representative works of the age
ot grandeur. The north portico (below) combines the grace of curves and the
majesty of verticals. Statues and pinnacles lighten any excessive solemnity
Country Life
132
Seaton Delaval has been described as Vanbrugh's 'drania in stone'. The general
impression is offortress-hke strength, but the architect has ingeniously combined
borrowings from various styles, and the effects of contrast never fiil in piquant
originality. There is, however, a touch of coldness in the interior (below)
There is much eclecticism and back-
ward-looking compromise in the
facade of St George's, Bloomsbury,
by Hawksmoor: the regular portico
is in contrast with the composite
tower and the antique pyramid sur-
mounted by a statue of St George
135
In contrast to the formal facade, the
arch of the choir and the placing of
the columns give an air ofgrace and
intimacy to the interior of St
George's
136
As a result ofhis long stay in Rome,
Gibbs introduced a seventeenth-
century type Baroque church, St
Mary-le-Strand, into London at the
beginning ofthe eighteenth century,
as though in defiance of fashion and
the age
137
Resemblances between St Mary-le-
Strand and Pietro da Cortona's
facâde for Santa Maria della Pace,
in Rome, underline Gibbs's Baroque
inspiration
138
The apse in the interior of St Mary-
le-Strand is formed within a tri-
umphal arch, with two storeys of
cohimns and surmounted by a great
pediment. Light enters through
wide bays
139
Wcnceslas Hollar, an exiled Czech
settled in London, has maintained
his reputation as one of the best in-
terpreters of the eighteenth-century
English landscape, with its masses
of greenery and gentle lines, as at
Albury
140
ENGLAND
teenth century Rome. With the small semicircular porticoes they are 175
strangely reminiscent ofthat harmonious but dramatic design by Pietro da
Cortona for Santa Maria deUa Pace, which Bernini had adapted for Sant'
Andrea al Quirinale
[119].
When we come to the main entrance we see that the two western
towers, that had been rather timid and not very high in the original sketch,
have now blossomed out into two magnificent steeples which, even be-
fore one can take in the design ofcoupled columns projecting, and convex
bays with columns between them, makes an immediate impression of
gracefulness and elation
[118]. They lead up by complicated volutes to a
lantern and ogee. There is an indisputable and enchanting relationship be-
tween them and the campaniles we have noticed at Sant' Agnese in the
Piazza Navona.
But the greatest innovation, breaking away from the hesitations of the
Warrant Design and triumphing over all material difficulties, is undoubt-
edly the dome. Its effect is all the greater since the original length of the
nave had been curtailed to three bays, the same number as the chancel, yet
there is stiU the peristyle with its two adjacent chapels to give an air of
spaciousness and solemnity to the entrance.
At the crossing Wren placed an enormous drum upon eight great pillars
to support the dome
[121].
This could not have been entirely constructed
in stone, because its weight would endanger the solidity of the edifice. In-
spired no doubt by Mansard's design for the Invahdes, Wren used the
drum to support one dome in stone (the one seen from the interior) and
above this built a brick cone to support the lantern with its ball and cross
and the supports for the exterior lead-covered dome.
The outside, with its great round gallery ornamented with Corinthian
columns and surmounted by a balustrade might be a gigantic reflection of
a Bramante temple. Then the drum reappears, pierced by windows alter-
nating with pilasters, before the dome itself surges up to the fme and eleg-
ant lantern. It is a superb crown to the cathedral and it seems to transform
and dominate even the city that surrounds it.
To understand the work fully it is necessary to take another view from
the nave. When the crossing is reached, the drum and dome rest on a space
where nave, chancel, the aisles and the transepts aU meet between the eight
pillars
[123].
Because the aisles are not as high as the main features, there
was a problem to be solved that needed all Wren's ingenuity. The four
pillars which form the cross are ofequal height with the nave. But between
these, arches ofthe same height but ofa wider span are introduced, and the
problem of the lower height of the aisles was bridged by introducing a
second, lower arch to support a balcony or choir stall. The rhytlim between
broad and narrow arches which had been apparent in the Great Model ap-
peared again, modified to deal with the problem of a nave and tsvo aisles
leading up to a dome. St Paul's Cathedral impresses a \'isitor so much by
its grandeur, is so homogeneous and the whole is so balanced that the
N
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
176 ingenuity the architect had to employ to achieve this is quite forgotten.
When one analyses the various elements of this great building it is
almost embarrassing to fmd so many reproductions of earher wôrks: the
apse [122]
reminds one of Palladio and Inigo Jones; at the entrance to the
transepts are copies of Pietro da Cortona; even the dome itself has echoes
ofBramante and Michelangelo and owes something to Mansart; the wes-
tern towers could scarcely have been conceived had not Borromini and
Rainaldi designed Sant' Agnese. One is tempted to ask what Wren himself
invented. His genius (and his fertility ofinvention deserves no lesser name)
consisted in his power to weld so many diverse elements into one single
whole that is incomparable and, at the turn of the century, gave the
splendour of Enghsh artistic achievement a lasting place in the history of
Europe.
Having said that, we may well revert to the question whether Baroque
or classic influences had the upper hand here. If one considers the monu-
mental calm of the dome, which turns away from the hnes of St Peter's
cupola only in favour of those of the Pantheon, it is obviously impossible
to talk about it in the same terms that one would apply to the work of
Bernini or the craftsmen of eighteenth-century Germany. Yet if we study
the various stages of Wren's designs one would not be wrong to say that
he was a man haunted by Roman art. They reveal revisions ofthe original
conception and at the same time the introduction of audacious new ideas
permissible only to an experienced connoisseur of the seicento in Rome,
someone with an exact knowledge ofground-plans and elevations to back
up his vision of the building itself.
He may have started in the Palladian tradition, which was the Leitmotif
of English architecture even after the death of Inigo Jones, but Wren be-
came so increasingly at home with Roman art that at the end he might
have been a Roman artist himself. The latest building carried out at St
Paul's might well have been directed by a pupil of Bernini.
None but a Baroque artist, and an outstanding Baroque artist, could
have preserved a Gothic ground-plan while building a monument in
Renaissance taste, and then show himself such a master of the classical
idiom that he could break every traditional rule and yet maintain charac-
teristics of harmony and logic in a work which sometimes has only the
appearance of being organic.
Having pointed out the ingenuities Wren used in the construction ofthe
dome, it is now right to remark upon another very singular feature of St
Paul's. From outside, nothing betrays the inequality between the centre
nave and the aisles. The outside walls with their two storeys have a perfect
arrangement, with the succession of windows with triangular pediments
and pilasters, and the balustrade overheadin fact one would call it a
purely Palladian facade. What actually happens is more complicated. The
first storey does indeed carry on the motif of the ground floor without
projection or disconnexion, but the walls stand up alone, a mere screen.
ENGLAND
They are built up to the heiglit of the nave, with which they have no con-
177
nexion. Indeed there is a large empty space between the two, in which the
aisles are hidden. The windows certainly do help to light the nave, but
only at second hand since what light they pass on must be infdtratcd by
their replicas in the nave itself. Tliis ingenious solution, if one regards it as
a trick to solve a difficult architectural problem, is, one must admit, very
Baroque. No less so is the device Wren used in the colonnade ofthe dome.
Looking at it from the ground, no one would notice at first that between
every fourth column there are niches, for they are so discreetly executed
that they do not break the general symmetry, yet, as buttresses, they play
an essential part in carrying the weight of the dome, which appears to be
carried by the pillars alone.
The exceptionally gifted craftsmen who worked with Wren should also
be mentioned, for their great skill and taste gave the interior of St Paul's
its rich quality. Foremost was Grinhng Gibbons who carved the choir
stalls enriched with flowers, garlands, arabesques and putti. Tijou, who had
fled from France, was responsible for the fme wrought-iron work and
Thornhill painted the dome with eight large compositions depicting the
miracles of St Paul. Nor should the artists who modelled the stucco gar-
lands, roses, cherubs, vases and shells be forgotten, for all of them contri-
buted to make St Paul's so splendid and vibrant that the cathedral might
have been in Italy. Their achievement becomes even more remarkable
when one reahzes that it was carried out in a Protestant church and that,
instead of the severity which one might expect, there is an understanding
of a more sensuous or humane conception of rehgion.
St Paul's alone, as the work ofa hfetime, would have ensured Wren's fame.
But he was one of those geniuses who were driven by the very age they
lived in to create and innovate incessantly. One is reminded of how
Michelangelo was chivvied and harassed by impatient Popes, of the amaz-
ing output of the great Renaissance artists and their Baroque successors
Bernini, Fischer von Erlach and Mathias Braun in Bohemia. Those artists
who could stand the pace had indeed to be men of steel: and they were.
Titian hved to be a hundred, Bernini eighty-two and Wren died when he
was ninety-one. Normal men would have given in earher, and that Borro-
mini committed suicide becomes comprehensible. The amount of Wren's
work may be seen in a picture of London painted by Canaletto from the
gardens of Somerset House. It is a view of the Thames busy with barges
and boats, but the central point is the cathedral of St Paul's and along the
river bank imiumerable steeples rise, like minarets, to pierce the sky. Most
of these were of churches that Wren had buHt or restored.
In the Great Fire of 1666 eighty churches were destroyed and it was
decided to replace fifty-one of them. At the turn of the century (oity had
already been rebuilt. The steeples and towers, whether of lead or stone,
retained a Gothic feeling in their graceful elevations. This appearance was
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
178 safeguarded to conform with the Hturgical demands of the AngHcan
clerics, but to understand what Wren achieved it would be necessary to
consider the plan ofevery church to appreciate the extent ofhis leaming,^^
his genius for adaptation when faced with a given site and his creative
powers. In the plans for his churches he had frequently adopted the eUipse
with the comers cut off which was often used in Baroque ecclesiastical
architecture. If one considers St Paul's one would call Wren a Palladian
whichis a more accurate epithet than Classicistwhose work became over

the years increasingly Baroque. Yet to attempt to give any date for this
change is quite impossible. Wren had so great a range of talent that even
in his early years as an architect he could produce something satisfactory
and ingenious whatever the circumstances. Between 1672 and
1679 St
Stephen Walbrook was built, a church which has been described as 'the
most perfect work. Wren's masterpiece, a model of elegance, whose plan
is at the same time so original and so simple'.^^ The inspiration is undoubt-
edly classical and one could say that the dome reminds one, in miniature,
ofthe Pantheon, and the sixteen Corinthian columns, though more deHcate
and slender, have some affmity with the nave of PaUadio's church on the
Giudecca. Yet, if one wishes to continue the comparisons, the subtlety of
placing the arches, the lunettes, and the Hghting of this church is not far
removed from the effects that Borromini achieved. Perhaps this is not so
surprising if one looks at the spire of St Vedast, hardly a stone's throw
away from St Paul's
[124].
Here the tower is first a square, its next storey
is concave, the next, smaller, one is convex and it finishes as an
obeHsk.
Such a rhythmic interplay of contrasting elements in the same spirit as
Borromini is without question pure Baroque and would not look out of
place in Rome, though the subtleties and complexities of the design may
not be immediately apparent, but it is tempered by the leap upwards of
the spire, which is the first thing that strikes the onlooker and hides the
complexity of the details. Another of Wren's steeples nearby seems to be
the more Baroque of the two. This is St Mary le Bow, famous for its peal
ofbells. It is the most spectacular ofWren's steeples, but though its volutes,
columns, and height give unique gracefulness to the superimposed stages,
the design is not really as Baroque as that of St Vedast. Nor can one ignore
the tower of St Martin Ludgate, which isjoined to the majestic and classical
facade by two great volutes. Above the volutes is an octagonal lantern and
a charming lead spire with an ogee dome, a balcony and an obelisk. How
Baroque Wren could be one can also see from prints of St Mary Alder-
manbury (now, alas, gutted) which show him as a virtuoso who could use
motifs as flamboyant as those of Guarini.
Secular architecture plays perhaps as important a part as his ecclesiastical
building in adding to Wren's stature, although the habit of attributing to
him any outstanding house, whose architect is unknown, is perhaps flatter-
ENGLAND
ing, but most misleading. Enough authenticated work remains to show he
179
was no less versatile in this field than in his city churches. The Palladianism
which one can see at Cambridge in the library ofTrinity College or in his
work in Emmanuel College, contrasts with the great colonnades at Green-
wich that remind one of Bernini, or his work at Hampton Court which
seems to compete with the neo-classicism of the French. Wren's amazing
power of absorbing ideas certainly resulted in a great number of most
beautiful buildings in England, which are a definite contribution to Euro-
pean art of the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, even though it
is still questionable whether England evolved anything that could justly be
called an original style. In any case, there had been a considerable change
during this time in the social background, and during the century England
might, to a limited extent, have become more receptive to Baroque.
About 1630, one could say that the Court and the aristocracy either im-
posed their taste or were content to go their way in opposition to practi-
cally the whole nation. Neither the style of Inigo Jones, so reminiscent of
the Venetian Renaissance, nor the Roman style that soon replaced it, had
any appeal outside this Umited group ofconnoisseurs. The City Companies
in London, the Universities, and the great number of country gentry had
little sympathy with these trends. But with the Restoration there grew a
feeling for the new style that continued throughout the reigns of Charles
II, James II and Queen Anne. The Revolution in 1688, though poHtically
ofvital importance in Enghsh history, had scarcely any effect on its culture
nor did it interrupt the development of its civiHzation. This period saw,
socially, an increase in the power of the ruling classes, for the nation as a
whole, in so far as such tendencies can be said to exist, identified themselves
with the aims ofthe aristocracy, who ruled efficiently and successfully. The
division between Whig and Tory was largely a question of parhamentary
jockeying and although this division went on for a long time, it had httle
to do with differing social ideologies. The parties were representative of a
prosperous, powerful, and essentially united nation which was becoming
as a whole more favourably inclined towards the grandiose and ostenta-
tious. At this time, indeed, it is hardly surprising that EngHsh architecture
developed a style that almost imperceptibly modified earher traditions and
became sometliing more expressive and dramatic which can appropriately
be called Baroque, for the term Baroque must not be identified only with
the passion for curved lines, the mass ofstatuary and the fluid designs which
were aimed at in the contemporary architecture of Central Europe.
It is indeed very different and the reasons are obvious. The Enghsh were
less imaginative, or imaginative in a different way. Their rehgion, es-
pecially the High Church Laudian tradition, tended to keep strictly to a
ritual that was admirably suited to lend solemnity to their services, but was
not susceptible to the sentimental effervescence that was aroused and satis-
fied by the extremes of the Baroque style. The main factor was, perhaps,
that in England rationahsm and empiricism were becoming increasingly
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
1 80 influential in intellectual circles. Both in the Universities and in learned
scienti&c circles, the discourses ofLocke, the discoveries ofNewton, or the
new^ technical experiments
^which later resulted in such a great change in

the economy ofthe country during the century, that is, they led to a much
tighter connexion between the work of the country and the townthese
were the main topics of discussion and interest. It was hardly the right
atmosphere to encourage the growth of an exaggerated or sensuous
Baroque. Enghsh Baroque waned during the last years of the seventeenth
and the first years of the eighteenth centuries, but was truly Baroque: this
is seen by innovations, the quest for new effects and the free eloquence of
the style, which in some examples might even be called Mannerist. A sense
of mystery, of the marvellous are lacking, but the frigid serenity of neo-
classicism is also absent from this style which was an expression of trium-
phant glory. It was this that enabled foreign Baroque artists to feel at home
in England,-"-'
It is odd that the dynastic changes of 1688 involved a change ofroyal resi-
dences. There was not much middle-class repubhcanism noticeable when
Wilham of Orange assumed the Enghsh tlirone, however much some
might wish to simphfy the pattern ofthis rather hberal era. It is even more
curious that all the alleged reasons which people attribute to Louis XIV for
building Versaillesa purely individual desire to build a palace which he
thought worthy of himself away from a stuffy and unpleasant citynow
actually became true in England, Wilham of Orange, an asthmatic,
dreaded the smog ofLondon.^^ Perhaps there were also other, more senti-
mental reasons why he refused to hve in the capital: the palace of White-
hall was haunted by memories of the Stuarts, and aesthetically considered
it was an untidy, half-completed conglomeration of bmldings.
He decided to estabhsh his residence some distance outside London, and
finally chose Hampton Court, Circumstances beyond his control, the in-
sistence of the citizens of London that the sovereign should hve in the
capital, forced him eventually to compromise by spending part ofhis time
in Kensington Palace. But Hampton Court always remained his favourite
residence. And here too it is strange that Hampton Court seems to have
suffered the fate of so many Baroque palaces. The first plan that Wren
drew up for it shows a facade reminiscent of Roman Baroque twenty-five
years earher, with a colossal order round the entrance, an attic storey with
statuary, the whole surmounted by a dome and with the roofs ofthe wings
in terraces. The cost of this would have been excessive and it became im-
perative to find a simpler and cheaper plan. Once again we find the classical
style infiltrating, not on account of any admiration for it, but because it
was cheaper. So Hampton Court, as we see it today, with the old Tudor
palace so cleverly modulating, by way of the colonnade in the Clock
Court, into the regular hnes of a classical mansion, is a sober but pleasing
building, royal but not pretentious, enhvened by the use ofred bricks and
ENGLAND
white stone
[125].
Some aspectsthe grandeur of the porches, the attic 181
storey and balustrade, or the sweep of the staircase decorated by Verrio
[126]
and the arrangement ofthe royal suites which arc adapted to domes-
tic or public functions, or the eastern gardensall recall, to a certain ex-
tent, Versailles. But it is an echo, a great palace that has become the seat of
a country gentleman, and only its details are really Baroque.
If one wants to fmd a building that is essentially Baroque, one must go
to Greenwich, look at the city churches, or explore the country houses.
If you sail down the Thames to Greenwich, the distant view of the two
towers, visible long before the whole building comes into view, inspires
one with the same awe that one feels upon seeing San Giorgio Maggiore
when rowing into Venice, or, in Rome, seeing St Peter's from the Pincio
gardens
[127].
There is a spaciousness about it, which is so difficult to
achieve in a European town, and which never succeeds better than when
air and water arc combined together. It makes even Hampton Court look
cramped, but what should have been a royal palace, second only to Wind-
sor, is now the naval hospital, in the same way as Chelsea was the army
hospital. The achievements and the glory ofBritish sailors doubtless meri-
ted the sumptuousness of this 'asylum', and one aspect of British grandeur
has here found apt expression.
There is no trace left ofthe old Tudor palace. The Queen's House, built
by Inigo Jones at the bottom of Greenwich Hill, is the earliest building
that remains and when, under Charles II, Webb erected what is now
known as King Charles' Building, it was some distance from the Queen's
House and designed to front on the river. It is built in Portland stone in the
form of an almost symmetrical quadrangle. Both on the east and west
there is a Corinthian portico with entablature and a pediment with allegori-
cal sculpture in the tympanum; at each angle Webb placed an advanced
paviUon with Corinthian pilasters.
This was the core around wliich Wren had to construct a building that
would give the whole some semblance of unity. His first idea, which may
have been inspired by Les InvaHdes or a more mature development of liis
plans for Chelsea Hospital, was to reproduce the King Charles' Buildings
to form a square and to make a domed chapel the dominating feature, with
an entrance of colossal order. This would, however, have made it im-
possible for the Queen's House to be seen from the river.
In order to avoid this it was essential that a free space was left between
the river and the Queen's House if it were to remain the cynosure of the
design, and it was equally essential that the eye should be led towards it
gradually if it were not to appear dwarfed. Wren decided to dupHcate
the wing that Webb had built, and then build another narrower courtyard
which would be more in keeping with the breadth of the Queen's House.
This fine Baroque interpretation of space was worthy of Wren's genius
and was a result of the same ingeniousness and taste which he had already
shown at St Paul's and Hampton Court. The gallery with twin columns
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
182 remains one of his best works, for had not a gallery of columns also
fmished off St Peter's;
The close connection with this work of Bernini explains in part certain
modifications to the 1696 plan which were attempted. Two disciples of
Wren, his juniors by a generation, John Vanbrugh, born in 1664 and
Nicholas Hawksmoor, born in 1661, intervened in the construction of
Greenwich. It was just after the Peace of Ryswick, when people every-
where were looking to the future vnth more confidence and courage.
Vanbrugh thought that Wren's colonnade might serve as an avenue to a
construction which was to be even more majestic and which would close
off the whole at the end, opposite the Thames. This should be a great oval
place and a tall chapel, crowned by a dome and four towers. He did not
mind if the Queen's House were sacrificed, for this church would take its
place. In this way Wren's building, which was sohd and reasonable, was
put aside for an audacious invention, which would in fact upset it.
In the end things did not go so far; the style which Webb had given to
the Charles II Building was still dominant in the first court. It was strictly
reproduced in the building opposite, which was put up in Queen Anne's
reign, in 1711. Each of these buildings was 'doubled'; thus were formed
the two stately blocks which were a sort ofpropylaeum to the hospital and
whose regular porticoes face on to the river.
This second courtyard was introduced by two great porticoes surmoun-
ted by cupolas, with a colonnade on each side running towards the base of
the hill. When Vanbrugh came to design the great hall and the chapel, he
adapted Wren's orders, and the hall in King William's Building and the
chapel in the Queen Anne block face each other symmetrically. So in the
Royal Hospital at Greenwich we see now two sets of carefully balanced
buildings: the first running up from the river, regular, and rather lower than
the second range, whichwith its colonnades and commanding domes makes
a much more Hvely design, andfmally the small, exquisite Palladian master-
piece of the Queen's House. To walk up from the river frontage through
the majestic severity ofthe King Charles II and the Queen Anne wings to
the columns and cupolas is an astonishing architectural experience. In fact,
the vista of twin columns is as splendidly triumphal as Wren had imagined
it. Then, above the drums ofthe twin cupolas the display ofcolumns recalls
the design for the towers of St Paul's, though here they are on a larger scale
and uphold, not an intricate and fantastic termination, but domes which
recall, in a minor key, the greatest feature of the cathedral
[128].
The two great buildings which stand face to facethe hall and the
chapelare both taU and hght, both have two storeys ofwindows, and to
enter either one passes through a magnificent portico. In the hall the fenes-
tration is enhvened by the pattern of pilasters of the colossal order, in the
chapel by the deHcate lines ofthe balcony. At the end of the hall there is a
dais backed by a magnificent example of mural painting; in the chapel
there is an elaborate altar picture. The painted ceiling of the chapel might
S%''
^
'UrJr
o
'>
f"
\\\
VI The paintings on the walls and the figures sculpted on the organ (built by
Sonnholz in
1733)
in the Abbey Church of Melk help to give the undulating
impression which pervades the whole church
ENGLAND
perhaps be considered as elegant but rather frigid; the ceiling of the hall is 183
by contrast a quite surprisingly sumptuous masterpiece by Thomhill. It is
even more surprising if you reaUze that this sort of work had hitherto
always been undertaken by foreign artists; Italians or French had catered
for the British taste more successfully than any native. At the time Thom-
hill was only thirty-three, and though the composition shows more clever-
ness than originality, it was a turning point in Enghsh art. Thornhill had
shown that a native could also be a master when it came to the apotheosis
of a monarch in the grand Baroque manner.
Leaving Greenwich by boat and looking along the great colonnades to
the Queen's House, one can see that it is not quite adequate in scale: it has
been preserved one might say by an act of architectural piety, but Van-
brugh should not be condemned out of hand for his plans. Yet the fmal
impression is that the beauty of these two styles can exist and blend with
each other: the classic note struck by Inigo Jones does not jar with the
richer tones ofthe Baroque, which here achieve one ofthe greatest master-
pieces in northern Europe.
Vanbrugh and Hawksmoor, who revealed their genius at Greenwich,
Archer and Gibbs, who was twenty years younger and whose working
Hfe lasted till after the Hanoverian succession, were the Enghsh Baroque
architects. Vanbrugh had some contacts and knowledge ofFrance, though
most of it was, unfortunately, through being arrested as a spy and im-
prisoned in the Bastille and at Vincennes. Some authorities have thought
that this disagreeable experience accounts in some ways for the fortress-
like characteristics of some of his work, as he had become famihar with
mihtary architecture. In any case the English were thoroughly conversant
with the French collection of prints of Marot the Elder and they were
considerably preoccupied by the buildings that distinguished the later
years of the Grand Monarch: the Invalides, Marly and the chapel at Ver-
sailles.
Vanbrugh had an extremely forceful personaUty, which sought ex-
pression not only in his architectural works but also in the comedies he
wrote. Yet his technical abihties and his cultural outlook show not much
more than a very vivid sensibihty to the most dramatic aspects of con-
temporary taste and contemporary events. He remains the one person who
almost succeeded in giving English Baroque the emotional feeling and
warmth that it lacked.
The first ot his masterpieces, Castle Howard, was designed for the Earl
of Carhsle, and both the original plans, which were turned do^^^l, and the
building as it is now, show a quite startling break with contemporary taste
and the accepted plans for country houses, no less than an equally surprising
affinity with what was being built in northern Italy or central Europe
[129].
The fine, two-storeyed central block ofthe palace is raised on a rus-
ticated foundation, then there are the colossal order ofpilasters, the frieze.
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
1
84
the triangular pediment, and a balustrade ornamented with vases which is,
in itself, heavily ornamented; yet, for full measure, or perhaps over-full
measure, Vanbrugh adds a great octagonal dome
[130].
There are, too, the
low wings crowned with cupolas. The sophistication, the charming in-
genuity one might expect to come across somewhere near Vienna or,
perhaps, in Bohemiait is startHng to fmd it in a country house in York-
shire, which was built between 1702 and 1714.
Blenheim is, however, more characteristic. At that time the War of the
Spanish Succession was raging, a war which superficially seemed a dynastic
squabble, the question of whether the grandson of Louis XIV should in-
herit the Spanish throne. It was more than that: it was not only a European
but a universal crisis. It was, in fact, a struggle in which the supremacy of
the continental powers, France and the Imperial Domains, was at stake
against the maritime powers whose strength derived from international
commerce. The union of Spain and France might well have destroyed the
economic expansion ofEngland and also of the United Provinces. Only if
we reahze this can we appreciate how important Marlborough's victories
were. To have inflicted the first resounding defeat on the troops of Louis
XIV was glory enough; to have saved Vierma from an attack from the
West, where only twenty years ago the Emperor had nearly succumbed
to an assault from the East, was also glorious. But the greatest gain was
that Austria was still in the coahtion, and that France might still therefore
be beaten.
The French seemed to judge it rather differently. It was a blow to
national prestige, but the battle had been fought so far away that the im-
pact on pubHc opinion was not very great. There was a feehng that the
future fate of the country was not jeopardized, and this mdeed was true.
But that two such different views of Blenheim should be entertained is
quite comprehensible and the British Government was quite right to re-
ward Marlborough for his victory; nor in that most practical age could
any reward be more befitting than an estate and a palace which was as
Queen Anne said, to perpetuate the glory of Blenheim in its beauty and
magnificence. It was a scheme that would naturally appeal to Vanbrugh.
What St Paul's was for the Church and what Whitehall Palace would
have been for the monarchy was to be rivalled at Blenheim, which was to
be a symbol of the grandeur and glory of the Enghsh nation. It should be
a monument to England's victories and the fact that the victorious general
was to hve there as well seems almost an afterthought. The huge scale of
the work, the vast courtyards, the wings that are terminated by pavihons
so massive that they seem feudal fortresses built in a contemporary idiom,
the use of every Renaissance style, the great oval on the east, the colossal
entrance on the south, the columns and the majestic terraces which add a
horizontal element to the grand design give an impression which one can
justly call imperial
[13
1 & 132]. It is interesting and perhaps significant that
Fischer von Erlach, who was later to create the 'Reichstil', was living in
ENGLAND
London at tliis time and that the Imperial ambassador was Vratislav de 185
Mitrovic, who was renowned for his grandeur and love of building. In-
deed, England and France, who had for so long been estranged, seemed at
this time to share one thing at least in common, a self-assured and indeed
audacious outlook. At least the reigning classes were inspired by it, and it
was an atmosphere which could on occasion be one most favourable for
artistic undertakings. The details were different, but the inspiration and the
final effect had much in common. Amongst the painters who were respon-
sible for decorating the interior ofBlenheim was Louis Laguerre, who was
not only a Frenchman but actually came from Versailles. He was the son of
someone employed in the royal menagerie and it was said that Louis XIV
had stood godfather to him. He served his apprenticesliip with Le Brun,
and in Blenheim one comes across many echoes ofVersailles. The paintings
decorating the Escalier des Ambassadeurs in Versailles (whose loss is so
bitterly to be deplored) would have been just as much at home in Blen-
heim. The richness, the wealth of invention and the flowing composition
which Laguerre achieved in his decorations owe much to Le Vau and Le
Brun, but they should be classified more as Baroque than classical. But if
one thinks one can see, both at Greenwich and at Blenheim, that Vanbrugh
was indeed an architect in the Baroque tradition, the impression made by
another ofhis most famous worksSeaton Delaval in Northumberland
makes one think again. There seems httle to Hnk the Baroque architect of
Castle Howard with the builder of this extraordinary facade
[133].
Bar-
oque is, after all, joyful, exuberant and of an almost overflowing abund-
ance. But Seaton Delaval faces us with a massiveness and severity that
remind one both ofa fortress and ofa cathedral. It is too eclectic to express
that free fantastic quahty which is a character oftrue Baroque. Bernini and
Borromini seem infinitely remote. Even the grandiose imperial style of
Blenheim seems alien. Here one has something quite differentthe work
ofan artist who has mastered every style and has decided to dare something
new, and revel in his novelties, however outrageous they may have
seemed
[134].
The central block is Palladian in style but huge in scale; it contrasts
strangely with the octagonal towers at each end of the long facade, for
they seem rather to remind one of medieval fortresses adapted and civil-
ized; then at the rear of the building are the towers which are vaguely
reminiscent of the designs made for Blenheim. If one associates Baroque
with curved lines and a sense of movement (which were, after all, its out-
standing characteristics) it makes one hesitate to consider these huge stolid
blocks of masonry, with abrupt angles, as a Baroque wôrk. But one can
contrast more aptly two conceptions of architecture and art in general.
There is first the school which accepted the classical rules and regulations
and which inspired artists to compete wdth each other to produce the most
beautiful results within the canon. But then there was another, an eclectic
school expressing individual tastes by choosing difl'erent themes whether
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
1 86 they were 'correct' or not. Vanbrugh proves himself, at Blenheim, at
Castle Howard, and at Seaton Delaval, as a thoroughly Baroque architect
in this sense. One might say the same about the work ofHawksmoor and
Gibbs, both ofwhom added much to the great London churches. Hawks-
moor, who often had recourse to various styles, created some extremely
surprising but very charming buildings. He liked to make use of very
heavy rustication which sets offthe high arches ofhis windows or his semi-
circular yeux-de-hoeuf.
Looking at St Mary Woolnoth, which he completed in
1727, one can
feel Hawksmoor's pleasure in his own virtuosity as he designed the facade
with its banded rustication with Tuscan columns at the side (also rusti-
cated), up to the small twin turrets which crown the composition and are
reminiscent of Seaton Delaval. At the great church he built at Spitalfields
(Christ Church), the portico is surmounted by a vast arch above the archi-
trave, and then the tower, shghtly set back, has wings which unite it with
incurved walls, pierced by high windows, and this is so successful that all
sense of heaviness has been avoided. In the small and beautiful church of
St George's, Bloomsbury, the steeple is to the side of the main building
and is again handled in a masterly fashion
[135].
Here we fmd a refinement
ofthe antique, for the belfry consists ofa small classical temple surmounted
by a pyramidal design which is inspired by the great mausoleum at Hah-
camassus. It is crowned by a statue ofGeorge I. He also revived the antique
in the rotunda in the grounds of Castle Howarda theme which was
taken over and enlarged by Gibbs when he designed the Radcliffe Camera
at Oxford.
Enghsh church interiors, which are usually Ht by high windows, run
some risk of appearing barren and cold. The usual square or rectangular
naves, and bare walls, could scarcely offer a greater contrast to the Itahan
Baroque churches with their profusion ofornaments, statues, reredoses and
pictures, but nevertheless sometimes one comes across some decorative
motifin Hawksmoor's work, which offsets the austerity of the whole and
recalls Mannerism or Baroque.
Sometimes there is a narrow gallery, often in front of the choir, in the
great arches, or again there may be an almost theatrical use ofside wings.^
In St George's, Bloomsbury, the interior has a richness which quite beHes
the austerity of the exterior
[136].
The nave is restrained to a square, lit by
arched windows; but the altar, surmounted by a reredos, seems to be in
another building, beyond the gallery formed by two great arches and
groups of Corinthian pillars, two for the first and four for the one nearest
to the altar. At one of these extremities, the gallery ends with a round
apse. This, repeated, gives an unexpected feeHng of depth. The whole
composition shows great elegance and a harmony between the subtle lines
of the arches, the architraves and the tall pillars. But, above all, the pers-
pectives between the screen ofpillars and the play ofhght and shade seem
to surround the altar with a feeling of meditation and mystery.
ENGLAND
Gibbs had stayed in Rome at the beginning of the eighteenth century
187
and had studied under Carlo Fontana. He had even thought for a while of
becoming a Roman Catholic, before he settled down in the Church of
England. When he became the surveyor to the Commissioners for the new
churches which Queen Amie decided to build, this Roman background
was almost his sole inspiration. St Mary-le-Strand, for instance, can hardly
be considered as an EngUsh Baroque building
[137].
The tall steeple may
seem almost superimposed, but the semicircular and colonnaded portico
and the beautiful decoration of the side walls recall, no less than the apsidal
choir behind a triumphal arch inside
[139],
a purely Roman church in the
tradition of Pietro da Cortona
[138].
Gibbs is also looking back to the Baroque in the monument he designed
for the Duke of Newcastle in Westminster Abbey. But later, the effect
which he sought to achieve at St Martin-in-the-Fields, with its regular
portico and triangular pediment, shows that his style was veering towards
the classical.
One is amazed at the number of sources that these artists seem to have
drawn their inspiration from. In the quadrangle of All Soul's at Oxford,
Hawksmoor succeeds in creating a very styhzed Gothic; though it has
nothing in common with the Middle Ages which Guarini sought to re-
create, it does manage to recapture in a unique manner the Gothic feeling,
in the vertical upsurge of the hnes of the portals, turrets and towers.
Such subtle adaptation, the variety ofthe models and even the ingenuity
shown might lead one to suppose that this Baroque school consisted of
imitators who adopted the style, not from any conviction, but to be
fashionable. Yet it lasted untU
1735
and even later, and where else at this
date could such a thing happen? Was it, one wonders, the predilections
of a few artists rather than a deeply felt expression of a civihzation?
While in London Gibbs was giving a new Hfe to the architecture that had
been fashionable in Rome sixty years before, another architect, Colin
Campbell, was pubUshing his Vitruvius Britannicus. The three volumes
came out between
171
5 and 1725 and, besides illustrating buildings carried
out by EngHsh architects, added new designs. The preface stresses the need
for a native and severely classical style.^^ It was a manifesto in honour of
Palladio.
. . . the great Palladio who has exceeded aU that were gone before him,
and surpassed his contemporaries, whose ingenious labours \vill ecHpse
many, and rival most of the Ancients. And indeed, this excellent
Architect seeins to have arrived at a Ne-plns-idtra of his Art: With
him the great Manner and exquisite Taste of Building is lost; for the
Italians can no more now rehsh the Antique simpHcity, but are en-
tirely employed in capricious Ornaments, which must at last end in
the Gothick. (This equation of what we call Baroque \\dth 'the
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
Gothick' is most interesting and significant.) For Proof of this Asser-
tion, I appeal to the productions ofthe last Century. How affected and
licentious are the works ofBernini and Fontanal How wildly extrava-
gant are the Designs of Borromini, who has endeavour'd to debauch
Mankind with his odd and chiminical Beauties, where the Parts are
without Proportion, Sohds without their true Bearing, Heaps of
Materials without Strength, excessive Ornament without Grace, and
the Whole without Symmetry. (This shows an austerity of outlook
which surpasses anything which even Blondel, the chief exponent of
Classicism in France, ever dared say. But this condemnation has its
contrast in the praise of Inigo Jones.)
It is then with the Renowned Palladia we enter the Lists, to whom
we oppose the Famous Inigo Jones. Let the Banqueting House, those
excellent Pieces at Greenwich, with many other things of this great
Master be carefully examined; and I doubt not, but an impartial
Judge
will fmd in them all the Regularity ofthe former with an Addition of
Beauty and Majesty, in which our Architect is esteemed to have out-
done all that went before; and when the plans he has given of White-
hall, which you will fmd in the Second Volume, are carefully exam-
ined into I beheve all Mankind will agree with me, that there is no
Palace in the World to rival it.
Doubtless it may have been true, but we have only prints to go onand
there was scarcely a country in Europe that did not boast of having a
palace unrivalled in the world. It was the nationaHstic feeling ofthe British
that very quickly convinced even those who despised the Baroque that
they must praise Wren, and also the other EngHsh architects whom we
call Baroque. The Englishman was proud of St Paul's. Also, though many
might deny it, there was as much desire in England to impress the public
and posterity by the erection of fme ostentatious monuments or tombs as
anywhere else, whether or not one professed to be a Palladian or an ad-
mirer of Bernini or Cortona.
Vitruvius Britannicus displays with admiration designs for cupolas and
pavilions that make it clear many English architects would have hked to
have built in a much more Baroque manner than they were ever allowed
to do. It is indeed an interesting speculation whether the design done by
CoUn Campbell himself, which is shown on Plate IX of the first volume,
was seen by Fischer von Erlach when he came to London. It may or may
not be mere chance that that imposing dome and the triumphal columns
which decorate the portico fill one with uneasy recollections of the Karls-
kirche in Vienna.
It is true enough that one could condemn or even curse the Itahan
Baroque artists, but it was not so easy to create something that was totally
dissimilar to their work: the ideals that all artists wished to express at that
time were too closely aUied. The exponents of the Baroque in Italy were
ENGLAND
heirs to the Renaissance and antiquity and, though they may have won
189
some emancipation, they took over their doctrines and drew inspiration
from their works, modifying them to contemporary needs, for they were
interpreters of an age when the rituahsm of rehgion combined with a
desire to display its power and its magnificence. They paid homage to the
secular power whose victories, in the service of God, could only enhance
His glory. It is impossible to believe that England with her close bonds
with the Continent could have been untouched by these trends which were
so characteristic of Europe in the seventeenth century.
Furthermore, England, if any country in Europe, had recourse to
ItaHan artists, andto recall a very wise saying of Bernini
'you can't call

people in and not ask them to do what they know how to do'. There were,
too, some aspects of the extraordinarily varied complex ofEngHsh history
that led inevitably to Baroque interpretation. Certain English princes had
carried their pride of blood and their determination to make their royal
residences magnificent just as far as the French monarchy. With varying
chances of ever being successful, this remained the aim of the Stuarts.
Under Queen Anne the mystique ofmonarchy was once more brought to
hfe, though she never dared to provoke either ParHament or people. True
enough, there had been the Revolution, a spread ofPuritanism, the rise of
an increasingly powerful working class, and technical science had gained
much groundall ofwhich might have been expected to have an adverse
effect on the arts. But it was those very same factors that had increased
England's wealth and power, a power which the nation felt instinctively
and wished to celebrate.
Queen Anne's reignwhich saw the completion of St Paul's and of
Greenwichwas also a time of great church buildings. One might almost
look upon these as votive churches, built out ofgratitude for the protection
God had granted England. It was, in a way, an Indian summer ofBaroque
lingering on, paradoxically enough, into the reign ofthe first Hanoverian.^^
One must acknowledge that in this phase, just as before, there were Hmita-
tions, for England could not, any more than France, wholeheartedly sur-
render to the Baroque taste. The reasons, however, were quite different. In
France there was a definite desire, at least in some circles, to estabhsh a new
canon of art worthy of the glory of the reign and of French supremacy
something that would be so clearly defined that it might command uni-

versal acceptance, and though not a copy of antique models would, in its
own right, command as wide an acknowledgment as they had done. Sense
must be linked with sensibility; if passion were the theme it was preferable
to expound it lucidly rather than let lyricism get the upper hand, for if it
did, imagination would run riot and the result be so chaotic tliat it could
not be called a work of art. It was Classicismnot without some touch of
Baroque, which could and sometimes did fuse with the academic by an
odd chancebut it was a Classicism wliich looked for reason and reason-
ableness, for credibiHty and intelHgence, in works of art.
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
190
In England the reasons why Baroque was inhibited were quite different.
There was no question ofa rigid theory. The opposition to Baroque arose
much more from the national character. The rehgious feeling in England
and its open hostihty to Roman CathoHcism went deep, so deep that any
hope of a popular rehgion appealing to the masses through the cult of
saintly images or a behef in intercession by the saints was a vain one. And
it was precisely these that, in other countries, had fostered the feeling for
Baroque. In England the majority ofthe population were more concerned
with the material aspects of hfe: they were industrious, and had httle
sympathy with something they would have called showy or for anything
imaginative compared with practical deeds. The native Enghsh tradition
was also so strong that it was difficult for foreign novelties to fmd much
backing: the adherence to the medieval was strong and stubborn. So the
Baroque, except in the few cases when it expressed a national feelingîn
the building of St Paul's, Greenwich, and possibly Blenheimremained
essentially an aristocratic taste.
When Colin Campbell preached the authority of Palladio and Inigo
Jones, he was voicing a general distrust of anything ostentatious or com-
phcated and a preference for something that was rational, easy to under-
stand and probably more comfortable to live in.
A second generation ofthe Enghsh aristocracy which continued to make
the Grand Tour was perhaps best exemplified by Lord Burlington, but the
accent here is definitely in favour of the antique and the Classicism of the
Renaissance. That may, of course, have been due to the inevitable revolt
of one generation against its predecessor, though it seems more probably
due to their inabihty to understand the quahties of the Baroque masters:
their bravura in drawing, their use ofcolour and their ingenuity. Certainly
there was a complete indifference to the rehgious or intellectual back-
ground which had made such works possible. It was at the same time that
Enghsh hterature became, under Pope and Addison, correct and classical.
Though both its social structure and its rehgious outlook barred England
from being one of those countries where we can say that Baroque reaUy
flourished, one cannot deny that she was fuUy aware ofthat great Mediter-
ranean movement, and embodied its style and feeling in buildings which
add greatly to modem European civihzation.
CHAPTER IX
Qentral Europe
We have seen how Baroque and Classicism in France were usually in two
hostile camps, though sometimes we fmd them in alhance, and how the
Baroque had spread even across to England. But the one region where it
became really dominant is Central Europe. The Czechoslovakian author,
Ferdinand Peroutka, wrote 'If we see somewhere a landscape with a small
Baroque country house, we are apt to think "What a typical Czechoslo-
vakian scene!"
'
This sounds a very simple remark, but it is profoundly
true and especially so when one remembers the date it was written,-*^ and it
also shows how penetrating an observer Peroutka was, for he was writing
in the period between the two wars, when the Baroque was almost univer-
sally dismissed as being quite incapable of expressing any aspect of the
spirit or civiUzation of the Czechoslovakian countries. He dared to pro-
claim how characteristic of his native land Baroque was. Yet the same
might with equal justification have been said by a Pole, a South German,
an Austrian or a Hungarian.
What, then, is Central Europe? It sounds a vague term, but it is indeed
an accurate one if we are considering the essence of a civilization w^hich
was spread across all the incoherent and often shifting national and racial
frontiers. The one link is the Danube, the river which Bernini had so ap-
positely chosen to symbohze Europe in the fountain he built in the Piazza
Navona. But it is notjust by following the course ofthe river up or dowm
stream that Mediterranean culture spread northwards to these regions. The
fords over the Danube play a more important part in determining the
pattern. Coming up through the defiles of the ItaHan Alps, the valley of
the Danube or the river itself might be used until a route to the north
could be found through the mountainous plateau wliich led to the great
plains of Germany and Poland, or of the Ukraine and Russia. To the east
lay Hungary, which had always been a human melting-pot, quite difterent
from the more closely-knit and more powerful western states. It was only
the abstract exaggerations of intellectuals or pohticians that could pretend
to find a land there that should exclusively belong to any one race
a
Deutschtum or an outpost ofPan-Slavism.
Germans and Slavs were, of course, aware of their differences: from
time to time they became most insistent upon their right to retain their
o
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
192
separate languages and racial characteristics. Yet sometimes, especially in
Bohemia, their day-to-day Hfe, when they worked together and often
were influenced by the same trends of thought, banished the question of
race altogether, at least in some classes.
It is quite wrong to look for a Slav Baroque or a German Baroque ifwe
wish to explain this great historic and artistic movement that has left be-
hind such a rich inheritancemagnificent Baroque churches and rustic
chapels, great palaces and peasant cottages. Both Germans and Slavs com-
missioned them; German and Slav artists designed them; equally impor-
tant, the skilled body of craftsmen, the actual builders and decorators
without whom nothing could have been achieved at all, was also composed
of Germans and Slavs.
Certainly we cannot hope to understand the various phases of this Cen-
tral European Baroque and the great originality ofsome ofits aspects ifwe
do not look at the historical background. As for it being a wave ofBaroque
surging up from Italy and submerging the native cultures, notliing could
be farther from the truth. Itahan models were welcomed and adopted. In
some cases new styles were evolved outside the main Baroque tradition,
that could reflect more markedly local feelings and social backgrounds.
Also the earHer traditions were still unforgotten: the Flamboyant style
(which German art historians call 'Spatgothik' and claim as a pecuHarly
Germanic manifestation), or the German Renaissance style which had ex-
pressed so well the pride of the wealthy market towns such as Ulm or
Nuremberg.
However, since we are dealing with the seventeenth century, the two
supremely important factors are those which we have already analysed
the Counter-Reformation, and the demographic and social changes that

were a result of the Thirty Years' War. The whole of Central Europe had
been convulsed and had, almost in its entirety, to be rebuilt. But since
there was no question and no possibility of it being a single state, this re-
construction was haphazard and could foUow no general plan. The con-
cept of the Empire was still there and was sometimes a dynamic force
which historians are apt to underestimate, but it had no administrative
bodies able to coerce or exercise a restraining influence.
There was no clear and overall pohcy: there was no RicheHeu, Ohvares,
or Cromwell^ to impose his will, nor any active rule such as that exer-
cised by the Dutch patricians. It was a conglomeration of great country
estates where the authority of the local squire was paramount. He might
break up some of his land into peasant holdings, but the greater part re-
mained his to exploit and the management ofthe whole was dependent on
his whims. Though this exploitation resulted in capitalism, it was still the
great estates that formed the social pattern and for a great part of the
century any great development was hindered by the economic slump.
And even when development got under way later on, new problems arose
which sadly impaired efficiency. The absence of the bourgeoisie has been
CENTRAL EUROPE
exaggerated till quite recently, or rather notice has been drawn to the
193
small proportion or absence ofan independent bourgeoise such as could be
found in the West.^ But though the social structure was more varied than
historians were prepared to believe even a short time ago, society remained
on the whole rural. Even if its products found widespread markets, the
outlook of the people was still restricted to a narrow horizon and their
way of life contrasted strongly with urban life in Western Europe.
It was a society where Catholicism, with the backing of kings and
nobles, spread its hold rapidly and efficiently, though not quite so easily as
it once appeared. But its ritual and its splendours brought relief to the
monotony ofan agrarian life and the peasant majority found in it consola-
tion. Though there was no drying up ofintellectual activity, and especially
in Poland we fmd centres of study, these countries as a whole were not
favourable to the spread of knowledge. As a result it was the plastic arts
that became predominant, while both music and painting were more
widespread in their appeal than books or laboratories.
These are, very briefly stated, the fundamental conditions which we
must remember if we wish to explain this great Baroque movement.'*
It would be wrong to begin such an explanation without first pointing out
the great part played by Venice in the elaboration of Baroque and in en-
suring its success in Central Europe. Its influence lasted throughout the
seventeenth century, and later, when it seemed that artists no longer
turned to Venice for their models or inspiration, it still exercised a con-
siderable indirect influence.
We have seen how Felibien compared Rome and Venice when he was
discussing the resources which the French artists, sculptors and architects
might expect to fmd in either city. He pointed out that Venice had few
antiquities or works in the Roman style; while Rome itself, apart from its
Renaissance and Baroque masterpieces, offered a perpetual lesson in Classi-
cism, which Venice could not boast.^ On the other hand the general splen-
dour of Venetian art was in time with the spirit of Baroque.
Also, the nearness ofVenice to the Danubian countries remained a con-
stant attraction from the sixteenth to the eighteenth century to visitors
from Central Europe, who found it so much easier to reach than Rome.
They remained as long as they could, enchanted by the splendid works of
art and no less fascinated by the busy harbour, the gay crowds and all the
various resources of a city which could satisfy their curiosit)'' or pander to
their desires.^
The Emperor Rudolf, who himself was a distinguished amateur, came
to Venice to buy his treasures, and it was here that one ofthe most famous
gems of his collection
The Feast
of
the Rosary (or Tlie Feast
of
the Roses)
by Albert Diirerwas found.'
Long after what is regarded as the heyday of Venetian art, great artistic
activity not only continued but took on a new lease of Hfe. The glor\^ of
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
194
the paintings ofthe sixteenth century, the superb architecture ofSansovino,
Palladio and Scamozzi even today overshadow this later work: an unjust
prejudice against the seventeenth century and the achievements of that
great Baroque architect Baldassare Longhena (i 598-1662) still remains
in some circles. He was a contemporary of Bernini and Borromini,
but his work is quite independent of theirs. He was a pupil of Scamozzi
and worked with him on the Procuratie Nuove, which he later com-
pleted.
But after he had settled down in Venice when he was nearly twenty, he
never left the city and spent the next sixty years working there. It is ab-
solutely wrong to accuse him of being unfaithful to his predecessors or to
think that his work is not in harmony with its surroundings.
The Santa Maria della Salute, which was begun in 1632, is one of the
most enchanting buUdings ever erected
[141].
The majesty of the dome is
incomparable: the volutes rising from the drum look like gigantic marble
wheels poised above the edge of the water, and the porticoes round the
octagonal base ofthe church are Hke so many facades presented to us from
different angles. In its vigour and elegance the Salute is one of the most
successful creations of the Baroque age. It has often been contrasted with
the Renaissance buildings nearby, but any attentive observer will see that
as a matter of fact they have some things in common. The dome only
echoes on a vast scale those of the Palladian churches, the Redentore and
San Giorgio Maggiore, while the porticoes are in the tradition of Sanso-
vino. One might truthfully say that here was the beginning ofa new style,
but one could not say that it was decadent. The whole building with its
studied elegance and theatrical effects is the expression ofa new spirit. The
plan ofthe Salute certainly does not possess that unity ofdesign maintained
by Longhena's predecessors and by the Roman Baroque architects' mas-
tery. The great octagonal church crowned by the dome is in fact nothing
but an immense ante-room to the sanctuary. The altar in the choir is placed
on the axis of the main entrance and is visible at once. One may either
walk straight up to it, or reach it by following the corridor that runs round
the octagonal walls with their side-chapels. The choir itself is in the form
of a cross whose arms end in rounded apses and, with its own cupola, it
forms a building on its own. Once this is reahzed the complexity of the
exterior becomes intelligible.
But the relationship between the great dome, this dome over the choir
and the volutes over the ambulatory and the campaniles, shows not only
how ingenious and subtle an artist Longhena could be, but that the con-
temporary theatre, with its elaborate stage machinery, had inspired him
with a taste for the surprising. It was by playing about with the traditional
elements of the Renaissance that he produced this powerful and original
monument.
Venetian Baroque has other masterpieces besides the Salute. The church
of San Moise, built by Alessandro Tremignon in 1668, has an astonishing
CENTRAL EUROPE
facade with a gigantic portal of four columns which arc linked together by 195
garlands of foliage
[142].
They arc also profusely decorated with animals,
motifs and busts, which we fmd also used at Santa Maria Zobenigo.
There are two palaces built by Longhena himself: the Palazzo Pcsaro,
with its remarkable rustication, and the Rezzonico
[143].
This was the last
work built by the master, and its two storeys ofcolormades (the third was
added by Massari in the eighteenth century) give an attractive feeling of
grandeur compared to the hghtness of the fifteenth century patrician
domestic style.
The grand staircase of Longhena's
(1644)
in the monastery of San
Giorgio Maggiore, with its spacious landings, combines grace and solem-
nity. The Baroque tradition continued into the eighteenth century, and
from 1715-29 we fmd the interior of the Assunta, a Jesuit church, being
decorated with an astonishing masterpiece of trompe Voeil where inlaid
marble and stucco make the columns appear to be hung with Genoese
velvet and the pulpit to be enveloped in drapery. The high altar itself is
under a magnificent canopy with twisted columns. Another noteworthy
achievement is the facade of the Gesuiti carried out in the colossal order,
which leads on to an ingeniously and harmoniously designed nave. The
vaulting was later decorated by Tiepolo.
Venice was also, during these years, taking the lead in the world of
music. Already Italy had revolutionized this art by laying an increasing
stress on instrumental music at the expense of polyphony, and the com-
posers accorded a greater role to the organ and the viols, which ranged
from the small violin which was held against the chin while playing, to the
leg viol [da gainha) that was later ousted by the violoncello. It did not of
course mean that the human voice played no part. Even if polyphony no
longer dominated everything, arias were still in great favour, especially if
they gave an opportunity to the castrati or sopranos to display their vir-
tuosity. The new forms of the cantata, and, after
1637,
of the opera, were
particularly hked by the Venetians; we have already seen how greatly the
public enjoyed all the ingenious stage effects and sudden transformation
scenes which became characteristic of operatic performances. The parishes
of San Graziano, SS. Giovanni e Paulo, and San Moise had their respective
theatres, and there was another one called the Novissimo. Monteverdi also
composed a remarkable Venetian opera Le Coronazione di Poppea, which
marked a new phase in his style.
CavalH, who was to become the great master of this genre, had sung as
a boy in the choir of San Marco, which could also claim Vivaldi, the father
ofthe famous composer, as one ofits members. It was doubtless tliis great
efflorescence in the theatrical and musical worlds that attracted artists to
Venice from all over Europe; it was here, for example, that Inigo Jones
came when he was training to become a decorator.
Because oftheir relative proximit)% Venice and Vienna had always been
in constant touch and the links between them were strengthened when, at
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
196 the end of the Thirty Years' War, the Emperor took up residence in
Vienna which therefore became, more or less, the capital ofCentral Europe
and thus a city avid for entertainment.
The Emperor Leopold sent a Bohemian nobleman, Cemin de Chu-
denic, as ambassador to Venice, where he stayed from 1660 to 1663. He
and the Emperor were personal friends, and in a steady flow of letters the
ambassador describes the unending series of fetes, the plays on at the
theatres, the musical performances and the outstanding quahty of the
musicians. It was a description of a civiUzation incomparably richer and
more varied than could be found in any of the Hapsburg states. Though
Venice was not the only source from which Central Europe drew artistic
inspiration, it was to her more than to any other city that it owed its
Baroque characteristics; it was from her that it learnt to put aesthetic
values above all others and to prefer the pleasures of sight and sound to
those of disputation or the study of austerely learned treatises. That airy
grace, of which Vienna eventually learnt the secret, was also for the most
part derived from Baroque Venice.
Later on, though still in Leopold's reign, Venice again influenced the art
of Central Europe, though this time it was by a strangely circuitous route,
through Rome. Andrea Pozzo, who was to become famous as an architect
and decorator, was bom at Trento in 1642. He became a humble brother
in the Society of Jesus, and this was perhaps one reason why, when he
was thirty-nine, he was summoned to Rome by Father Ohva; but by this
time his taste and artistic tenets had already been formed by the Venetian
school. He arrived in Rome just in time to help Baciccio
perhaps the
artist nearest to Bernini in spiritand then to continue his work. At this
time work had been resumed on the church of Sant Ignazio where Pozzo
was entrusted with the decoration of the ceihng. Without any use of
stucco, he managed to make the interior seem more spacious by superb use of
trompe Voeil [V] . Now that it seemed certain that the cupola would never be
bmlt, Pozzo painted a great architectural composition in perspective. The
nave appears to soar up to a dazzling heaven where St Ignatius is sho\vn at
the moment his heart is struck by a ray from God's own heart. Its brilhant
Hght illumines figures symbohc ofthe four quarters of the earth which fill
the four corners of the composition.^ The vault of the apse was decorated
with columns framing a vista of the sky which served as a setting for the
miracles of St Ignatius.
Finally Pozzo was responsible for the extraordinary reredos that frames
the altar of St Ignatius in the Gesu
[144].
Here the columns and the globe
oflapis lazuh are in perfect harmony with the fresco that had been painted
by Baciccio and attain a sumptuousness which even the fervid imagination
ofCardinal Farnese could not surpass. Here Pozzo used bronze and precious
stones to give permanent form to the decorations which the Jesuits in
Rome used to place on the altar during the forty hours ofprayer in honour
of the Holy Eucharist.^
CENTRAL EUROPE
For Pozzo, perspective was the secret ofeverything in painting or archi-
197
tecture or sculpture. That he had great technical skill is obvious, but it was
his absolute genius for invention that was so astonishing, and it was due
to him that the Baroque received a new lease of hfe just at the time when
one might have expected it to enter into a decline. His ingenuity and his
taste for the unusual and the refmed led him away from the severe Hne and
straightforward plan to discover affinities between his style and that of
Borromini. He had neither the originality nor the depth of that great
artist, but he stimulated a new interest in Borromini's work a quarter of a
century after liis death. The curve, and the interplay of convex and con-
cave volumes now won supremacy over the beautiful and monumental
use ofline by Bernini. Indeed, though there is no direct link between them,
the palaces of Longhena seem to have something reminiscent of Bernini
about them. It may have been that Longhena and Bernini were more
directly heirs to the Renaissance, or that both were primarily architects
while Pozzo was cliiefly a painter, though he also had pretensions to being
a theorist. His great work, Prospettiva de pittori e architetti, which firmly
subordinates architecture to painting, was pubhshed in two volumes in
1693. It ran into several editions and in the same year was translated into
Latin, which ensured its distribution throughout Europe. In 1700 it was
translated into both German and French.
When he was summoned to Vienna by the Emperor, Pozzo was able to
reinforce his theories by practical examples, and we shall later see how
great his contribution to Central European Baroque was, even though his
activity lasted but a few years. The date of his arrival in Viemia was one
when Baroque was at its peak; but before reaching that there were many
halts by the wayside and it is best to describe these now.
People are apt to ask when the first signs of Baroque appeared in Central
Europe. It really leads us nowhere to ask the question in this form. Some
historians hke to quote the date 1611,^^ and in support of this, point out
the fine porch built by the Emperor Mathias for the Hradcany palace,
when Prague was still the Imperial seat. It probably comes from the ateher
of Scamozzi and is decorated with a pediment and two pyramids. But its
strict observance of classical principles and its perfect regularity surely do
not entitle it to be called Baroque? It is one of many examples of work
imported from Italy after the Renaissance by princes or great nobles to
embellish their palaces. A few steps away there is the charming belvedere
of Queen Anne (nee Jagellon), which had been erected sixty years before
and was also, at least in part, the work of an Itahan, Paolo della Stella, to
whom the fine Florentine colonnade is attributed. A Httle farther on is the
tennis court (Micovna) which is obviously Palladian in inspiration and was
built by the German architect Wolilmut in 1552. Then again, wherever
the Jesuits and the Counter-Reformation had spread we find churches re-
peating the style of Vignola. This may perhaps be looked on as a prepara-
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
198
tion for Baroque, but it is more likely to be a continuation of Italian in-
fluence which began in the time of the Renaissance.
Before Baroque could be introduced, the existing order had to be pro-
foundly shaken up by the Thirty Years' War, a revolutionary crisis which
endangered the whole of the Counter-Reformation, and the poHtical pat-
tern of the Bohemian kingdom with the three Estates (Bohemia and the
European provinces, the Alpine and Danubian provinces, and Hungary)
which had acknowledged the sovereign since 1526. The social and econ-
omic structure was now shattered from top to bottom, though no doubt
the changes that became so apparent during and after the Thirty Years'
War had begun before.
The working of the mines during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries
had made Bohemia the most economically advanced of the Imperial
States and here we can see important changes taking place towards the end
of the sixteenth centurythe constant decHne of the royal towns, of the
artisans' guilds, and of the lesser nobihty, and the increasing power of the
large estates, which were exploited with profit by the great landowners.
But these changes were taking place gradually and almost unnoticeably
until everything was changed by those sombre and tragic years from 161
8
to 1648,
years that engulfed a whole generation. Central Europe became a
mass of rums, overrun and pillaged by armies of mercenaries. More than
once each side faced imminent disaster.
The Imperial victory ofthe White Mountain in 1620 saved both Church
and Emperor, and CathoHcs celebrated the rout of the Protestants by
building votive churchesSanta Maria della Vittoria in Rome, Panna
Maria Vitezna in Prague, and the University Church in Vienna. Neverthe-
less the struggle still went on for another thirty years, and the fortunes of
war continued to vary.
The Emperor, for all that he bore the greatest title in Christendom, re-
mained a weak prince. The territories he held were only isolated islands of
securityand how relative that security was. The Turkish army, halted
along an arbitrary line in Hungary, might renew their assault at any
moment. Germany refused to obey him. In Bohemia he could only main-
tain power by depleting the Treasury to find enough money to buy the
loyalty of the nobles, and by granting the great magnates concessions that
made them actually into small principaHties he could no longer directly
control. The decHne of the population was due not so much to the casual-
ties of war as to epidemics that came in its wake and the trek of refugees
out of the devastated areas. Traditional values collapsed, since the intellec-
tuals and many of the nobihty who had upheld them were now in exile.
Yet in the midst of the general chaos there stood out some surprisingly
successful men, such as Wallenstein, whose adventurous career marks a
turning point in the history of the Baroque. He has too often been called
'a condottiere of Czech origin', but in a few years he had established him-
self as the most important man in the kingdom, the only one whom both
141 The placing of the domes and belltowers of the Church of the Madonna della
Sahitc in Venice are the expression of the scholarly ingenuity' of Longhena.
whose taste for the unexpected stemmed from his familiarirs' with stage devices
142
143
Longhena's last work, the Palazzo Rezzonico is characterized by a pleasing
grandeur instead of the lightness of the patrician mansions ot the titteenth
century
LEFT. The astonishing facade of San Moise, by Treniignon, has a huge door
with four columns and is ornamented with a profusion ot figures ot animals,
carved details and busts
144 ABOVE LEFT. Thc fantastic
altarpiecc of Sant Ignazio, in thc
church of the Gcsia, is by Pozzo.
Combined with Baciccio's fresco it
creates an impression of richness
that even Cardinal Famcsc could
not have bettered
145
BELOW LEFT. All archaic reversion
to the Palladian style of the begin-
ning of the eighteenth century.
With its great scale, Masari's tac^-ade
for the church ot the Gesuati is an
attempt to harmonize with the
monuments ot Venice
ABOVE RIGHT. The 'sala terrena'(or
loggia) is as high as the rest ot the
Wallenstein Palace, Prague. Spezza
has given it three great arches sup-
ported bv pairs ot Doric columns
and their entablatures
146
147
The French architect, Jean-Baptiste Mathcy, built a church with a centred plan
for the Knights of the Cross, in Prague. It has a classical gravity, recalling
Bramante's placid churches
:'..^^'
J
:.'...
/(li
#%
148
Karcl Skreta, from Prague, spent eight or ten years in Italy. On his return, tlie
concrete quahty of the genius of his native land won him over again, and in this
picture of St IVciiccsIas he subordinates lais Italian technique to a difterent
inspiration
I
u rrituni S- CM: /Irk: m.
MnanmuKaf'L S.C.IL-
149
7/ Po)no d'Oro was a play with music by the Itahan Ccsti, for which the Emperor
Leopold composed a number of arias and for which, in 1688, Burnacini
150 designed the decor, below: The apotheosis of Leopold I
"snrrmr J-,.),....- Jr../.:
CENTRAL EUROPE
the iiiliabitants and the exiles looked upon as capable of restoring peace,
199
and possibly peace throughout the Empire.^^ He was a magnificent figure,
and determined to Hve in a splendour that was worthy of him and a
demonstration of his power. On his Friedland estatesa veritable little
principality he had managed to carve out for himself in northern Bo-
hemiahe built the Chartreuse of Valdice. In Prague he bought up a
whole district at the north-west end of the Mala Strana, razed all the old
houses and witliin four years, between 1625 and 1629, had built himself
one of the finest palaces of the age.
The work was controlled by his counsellor Pieroni and built from plans
prepared by three Italians, whose names alone have survived: Andrea
Spezza,^^ Marini, and Campione. The long facade without pilasters is
reminiscent of an ItaHan Renaissance palace and only the attic windows
show a German influence. But the interior is unalloyed ItaHan. A huge
ballroom, decorated with pilasters of the colossal order, rises two storeys
high. The fresco on the ceiling was carried out by Baccio Bianco and shows
Marsa portrait ofWallensteinbeing borne up to heaven by a quadriga.
Two storeys are also taken up by the chapel at one end of the palace. In
the centre of the great reredos with twisted columns surmounting the
altar, there is a painting of St Wenceslas by the German artist Sheemuller,
and the same saint is again portrayed in the murals by Baccio Bianco. If
Wallenstein had celebrated his secular fame in his ballroom by the mytho-
logical apotheosis of Mars, he here seems to be striving to identify himself
with the old rehgious traditions of Bohemia. It is in this chapel that we
hear, as it were, the first notes ofa mighty hymn to St Wenceslas that can
be heard throughout Czech Baroque, echoed by the statues, the reredos
paintings and the sacred plays staged in the Jesuit colleges. Lastly there is a
sala terrena as high as the main building, whose three huge arches supported
by twin Doric columns and their entablature open on to the garden
[146].
Its interior is both luxurious and graceful, with stucco panels, shell-
encrusted niches, pilasters, and with its lunettes and ceiling decorated with
frescoes.^^
One should try to imagine this palace filled with the bronze statues by
the Flemish artist de Vries, which are now in Sweden, and countless other
treasures that were pillaged, and then one can realize how grand this first
Bohemian Baroque masterpiece was, how novel in style and superb in
quaHty and self-assurance. Ame Novak once wondered what impression
it could have made on the people of Prague who saw it abandoned and
deserted during those long years between the tragic death of Wallenstein
and the signing of peace
(1634-48),
a symbol, as it were, of 'sic transit
gloria mundi'.
The Peace of WestphaHa was signed even while the Swedish armies were
besieging the bridge in Prague
proof, if any were needed, of how pre-

carious the Imperial victory was and how all might still He on the turn of a
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
200 card. Still, now that the Empire and the Emperor's lands were no longer
engaged in the struggle, the Peace began a new era which saw the birth
and development of a Baroque civiHzation that was to last for a hundred
years. The variety, quaHty and originality ofits masterpieces entitle it to a
special place m the history of modem times.
The Peace made it possible to estabhsh a new order. This was, to be sure,
imposed by the victors (how could it be otherwise?) but it was not carried
out all at once nor on the lines ofany clearly conceived ideal. It came httle
by Httle as circumstances permitted, continually adapting itself to local
necessities and because of them acquiring distinct characteristics.-"^*
It may be said that three authorities were re-estabhshedthe sovereign,
the Church, and the lord of the manor. Supporting each other, they give
the impression of forming a dictatorial and hierarchical society in which
the workers, though not enslaved, were submissive and attendant upon the
orders of their superiors for their every action.
The Emperor inspired respect by virtue of his office. He was the rep-
resentative and heutenant of God on earth, the father ofaU his subjects and
enjoyed usufruct over all the Landesvater kingdoms. Since 1627 the crown
of Bohemia had become hereditary, as it was in the Danubian and Alpine
provinces. The nobles were his vassals; the Church taught obedience to
him as a divine preceptand yet, in spite ofaU this, the Emperor could not
raise as much money as a French king, either for official or personal ex-
penditure. His army consisted of mercenaries led by foreign officers, and
their pay had to be sanctioned by the Diets. Even had he wished to build
in the grand mannera taste that had ruined many ofthe Italian princes
he had not the means to do so. He could not maintain a briUiant court, nor
pursue the pohcy ofa strong monarch. The Hradcany palace in Prague and
the Hofburg in Vienna both remained medieval. Not until 1660, when the
artist-prince Leopold I began his reign, do we see any court programme
such as we expect from a Baroque king.
The Church now enjoyed absolute authority. The bishops had been re-
instated in their dioceses; their castles and estates had been restored to them.
The old religious orders (such as the Benedictines, Premonstratensians,
Cistercians and Augustines) were re-estabhshed. New orders of men and
of women (such as the Jesuits, Ursuhnes or nuns of the Visitation Order)
received the highest patronage when they began their apostolates. Both
had to begin practically from the beginning. The demorahzation of the
peasantry seems to have increased as their numbers diminished, and ig-
norance and superstition dominated the rural areas.
The general state ofchaos was so great that in some districts it seemed to
the Church to present a more serious challenge than the attraction of
Protestantism. A great evangehstic effort had to be made but with means
suited to the circumstances, a dialectic that sought to capture the emotions
rather than convince the mind, that tried to foster hope, and to make
something consoling out ofpious habits that might eventually lead to true
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faith. How misleading the chronology of historians can be, with the 201
Counter-Reformation considered as a sixteenth-century movement, when
here in the middle of the seventeenth century we fmd that everything had
to be undertaken again almost from scratch throughout Central Europe.
The tliird great power and authority in the land was the great land-
owners. To understand the problem it is not worth considering, except
from a purely political point of view, the influx of foreigners who, either
by royal grant or purchase, obtained large estates in Bohemia and Austria,
and later on in Hungary. Their number is considerable, but not over-
whelming. If we take Bohemia in 1664 we fmd amongst the high aris-
tocracy fifty-eight Czech famihes and ninety-five newcomers, but if we
survey the country as a whole we fmd three-fifths of the land still in the
possession of the old nobility. The economic system played a much more
important part. There were the difficulties which confronted any free
landowner who had not enough money to improve his estates or make
investments; in return for any concessions an extension of villein labour
on the nobleman's land was demanded, or if the land were held on lease,
all the old seignorial rights, levies and monopoHes were enforced by the
great magnate throughout their demesnes. Yet the tax on beer in the
towns (small cities of three to five thousand souls) would alone bring in
more than the whole income derived from the land.-^^
The system guaranteed a quick fortune for the nobility, provided, of
course, that their bailiffs were honest and they themselves not reckless
spendthrifts. Moreover, it gave a certain margin of security to the rural
population, where the standard of Hving definitely improved. The land
belonged to the noble, and society was patriarchal, but it should not be
forgotten that the nobleman might also be a churchman. An abbot, who
was usually of noble birth, might be only the usufructuary of his posses-
sions and the rents flowed into the monastic community which could then
afford to build churches and monasteries. This is one factor that explains
the splendour of the great abbeys built in the eighteenth century.
This century of Baroque civihzation may be divided into two periods.
The first lasted about tliirty years, during wliich the population increased
and became more conscious of themselves, while the ruling classes con-
solidated their power. The artistic inspiration still came mainly from Italy
and so did the artists them.selves. But, especially in religious art, the foreign
style was used to interpret local traditions and legends: technical and aes-
thetic skills were adopted to express the native feeling of the countr)^
The second period is quite different. A general increase m wealth led to
more buildings being commissioned. Between the peoples of the Imperial
lands there was a growing kinsliip, and the Hapsburg d\Tiast}' was now
accepted without question; successes such as the Emperor's victory over
the Turks in 1683 increased this solidarity. Also there were now many
more skilled native artisans and artists apart from some great German
masters in arcliitecture, painting and sculpture. All tliese circumstances
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
202 combined to produce a very individual style ofBaroqueinvolved, gran-
diose and gracefulwhich was distinct from that of any other land and a
proofthat at this date the Austrian countries shared a common civiHzation.
It remained a civiHzation that expressed itself through the plastic arts and
music; it never evolved a language held in common by all the people it
embraced, nor did it satisfy their intellectual needs, but though this prob-
lem is of great importance in the history of Europe, it hardly concerns us
here.
We see, then, that the most striking thing about the first period is the pre-
ponderance of Itahans amongst the arcliitects, masons and painters. We
come across a wealth of foreign names, but only one or two German or
Czech ones. In Prague, there are Lurago and Caratti: in Vienna, the Car-
lone, Luchese and Tencala. Some are first-class masters, but the majority
show themselves to be only skilled adaptors or copyists of the Italian
manner, especially in the field ofecclesiastical architecture. Their lay build-
ings retain many characteristics ofthe German Renaissance, such as the use
of flat, sober facades. The change comes slowly and cautiously.
Are there, one may ask, many notable differences between the develop-
ment in Vienna and Bohemia? Bohemia itselfhas been the subject ofmany
a fertile debate. Even now this region is still one ofthe richest in Baroque.
Prague's main charm Hes in its Baroque monuments and some quarters of
the city, especially the Mala Strana district on the left bank with its palaces,
gardens and churches, are remarkably unspoilt and harmonious.
In the country, the votive column or fountain that adorns the town
square, the churches with their onion steeples, the spacious white manor
houses, the inevitable picture or statue of St John Nepomuk on the brid-
ges, or the flowing Hues of the great series of sculptures at Kuksall the
sophisticated graces of Baroque seem an integral part of the landscape
here.
Paradoxically enough this period of great artistic effort is also the most
sombre one in Czech liistory. The nation seemed to be enslaved by a
foreign aristocracy and it was this fact that led nineteenth-century historians
to deny any link between Baroque art and the Czech nation. They thought
that since the nation was essentially Slav in origin, since, from
Jan
Hus to
Luther, it had favoured the Reformation and the Calvinistic United
Brotherhood, it could not have been prepared to welcome a style that was
Catholic and Italianate. Therefore, they argued, it must have been im-
posed upon the people by a foreign aristocracy and clergy backed up by
the mihtary power of Germany and Vienna. By shaking off this yoke the
Czech nation began to find itself.
A later theory argues that it was actually in Baroque that the Czech
people found, after all the reverses and humiHations of the Thirty Years'
War, a renewal of hope and strength. It renewed memories of the distant
past and the early medieval Czech saints, St Wenceslas and St Ludmilla. It
CENTRAL EUROPE
maintained the feeling for the traditional that lay deep in a peasant popula- 203
tion profoundly attached to its native land.
Many writers, aware of the beauty of Baroque, admit that the aspira-
tions of the Czech soul, its grief and its hopes, found expression in this
imaginative and idealistic style. Finally in our own day other historians,
though still admitting 'the undeniable beauty' ofthis artistic heritage, offer
a Marxist-Leninist solution to the problem.^^
The 'pathetic' character of Baroque art in Bohemia is now seen to be
the expression of a social struggle. Those who expressed themselves
through this art were engaged in the general conflict of the time and torn
at heart. They have therefore multiplied the contrasting effects between
mass and space, between movement and rest and between hght and shade.
Everything is engaged in a dramatic struggle. Nowhere is calm possible,
nor harmony, nor serenity. It is alleged that some artists broke through
the Hmitations imposed on them and, by a truer rendering of the national
genius, managed, even at the height ofthe Baroque period, to lay founda-
tions ofa democratic art which developed later. Other artists submitted to
the ruling classes and debased their personal talents to produce the super-
ficiaHties demanded of them.
The great variety of interpretations is enough by itself to prove the
historical importance ofthe Baroque in Bohemia; nor is it without interest
that the Leninist-Marxist theory, materiahstic though it may be, shows
more sympathy with Baroque than the utterly negative view adopted by
the Liberal historians of the nineteenth century. But there is no possible
doubt that here was a flowering of rehgious and aristocratic art which
produced some superb masterpieces.
The Miclina were a family who had grown rich in the service ofthe Em-
peror, but they were so ambitious to play the role ofMaecenas that within
two generations they were ruined. But at least their lavish patronage
helped to complete the church of San Salvador, the chapel of the Jesuit
College or Clementinum. The Jesuits had settled in Prague in the middle
ofthe sixteenth century, were expelled during the Revolution of 1619, and
were re-estabhshed after the Imperial victory at the White Mountain.
They may well be proud of this fme church, which is admirably situated
at the end ofthe old town in front ofthe bridge across the Vltava. That the
design wished to recall the Roman churches of the Counter-Reformation
is obvious, with the nave wdth chapels and tribunes set in the thickness of
the walls, the octagonal drum at the crossing of the transept to support a
cupola, and characteristic stucco decoration. For the exterior, Carlo Lurago
built a two-storeyed facade enlivened with Corintliian pilasters, and in
front he placed a three-arched peristyle. It gives a charming effect and it
was also useful for processions, while the terrace above it is perfectly
placed for blessing the crowd. The river front looks across to the Mala
Strana and the Hradcany Palace. The ItaHan arcliitect has certainly man-
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
204 aged to give the church an importance greater than that originally intended
and it is an essential element in the landscape of the city. It was built
(1648-51)
fifteen years before the baldacchino in St Peter's, ten years before
Borrominj had built San Carlino, and is contemporary with Sant' Agnese.
It has none of the boldness of Roman High Baroque, and seems closer to
the tradition of Vignola.
A few years later we fmd Humprecht-Jan Cemin, the same Cernin who
had been Imperial ambassador in Venice and Romefollowing Wallen-
stein's example of building on the grand scale. But the palace he built on
the Hradcany Hill was even more imposing and sumptuous than that ofthe
Duke of Friedland. The architect was Francesco Carrati, who designed a
superbly magnificent facade of thirty half-columns of the colossal order
which rests on a rusticated basement storey (1669-87). It looks like the
palace of an Itahan prince rather than that of a Bohemian noble, but then
it was built for a man who had visited Venice, Verona, Mantua and Rome
and who knew Roman Baroque at first hand. On the garden front the two
loggias flanked by large paviHons remind one ofthe Villa Medici. The roof
is scarcely visible, a sign that to foUow Itahan taste was considered more
important than to cope with the local climate. The transplantation, as it
were, of buildings from Rome to Prague went on until
1673, when the
Archbishop ofPrague, John Frederick of Wallenstein (a descendant of the
great Duke of Friedland) brought back an architect called Jean-Baptiste
Mathey
(1630-95)
from Rome. He was a Burgundian by birth and one of
the many French artists who had settled in Italy. He was commissioned
to build the church of St Francis ofAssisi for the Knights ofthe Cross on a
site not far from San Salvador, at the entrance to the Charles bridge
[147].
It has a central plan and is hardly more than a large chapel. The exterior in
the form of a Greek cross is decorated by Doric pilasters alternating with
rustication. The drum, resting on vigorous twin columns, supports a
beautiful, finely sweeping oval cupola. The whole building is ofadmirable
quahty and has a classical solemnity about it that recalls the calm churches
of Bramante. This Classicism has nothing to do with the French origin of
the architect. The idiom is pure Romancoming direct from Baroque
Rome that had preserved so many classical aspects of the Renaissance.
In other parts of Prague we find palaces in the Roman taste which
Mathey built either for the archbishop or for noble clients, but they have
since been altered by restoration. There is the Archbishop's Palace, the
Bucquoy Palace, and the charming building now known as the Tuscan
Palace, whose belvedere pavihons give it all the grace of a villa. So witliin
thirty-five years, from 1650 to round about 1685, the city of
Jan Hus was
transformed by churches and palaces which were built first in the North
Itahan and then in the Roman style. None of this, however, shows a real
trend towards urbanization. The nobles who built the palaces still rehed
upon their landed estates for their wealth and their power. One might
tliink the whole of tliis activity artificial, or tend to dismiss Baroque as
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something quite alien to the national feeling in the Czech countries, did 205
we not find it already established in other fields.
At this time the painter who most ably interpreted Czech feeling was
Karel Skrcta
(1610-74), He was a native of Prague, Protestant by birth,
though later converted to Roman Catholicism, who spent eight or ten
years ofhis training in Venice, Bologna and Rome before he settled down
in Prague in 1638, Here he opened a studio and received commissions from
the nobility and the Church. The solidity ofhis modelling and the warmth
of liis colours against deep shadow give his portraits a quahty that can
compare with the great masters. But his religious paintings display still
more moving traits.
It was as though he were captivated again by the robust spirit of his
native land and subordinated his Italian technique to an inspiration that was
very far removed from anything to do with the Bolognese school. For the
cloisters of Zderaz monastery he painted an admirable series of seven epi-
sodes from the Hfe of St Wenceslas
[148],
The medieval blood of the old
Bohemian artists who had never stirred from their native land seems to
give Hfe to these masterly paintings and infuses them with incomparable
feeling. Only a Czech who loved St Wenceslas could have shown us this
native prince so fortuitously. In one picture we see him leaning over the
barrels ofnewly-harvested grapes at Melnik, about to press some wine for
the Mass, In another we see him benign and forgiving as he receives the
submission of Radslav, prince of ZHcko, He is riding a thick-set wliite
horse such as one can so well imagine coming from some Bohemian stud
and plodding along the rough roads of Polabi in winter,
Tliis feeling for rustic Hfe is the painter's homage to the Czech country-
side. But to Neumann (the Leninist-Marxist critic we have already men-
tioned) this is prooftogether with the fact that the people are dravoi
from everyday Hfe and their gestures are naturaHsticthat Skreta's pre-
occupation with reaHsm was a desire to bring rehgious themes dowTi to a
mundane level. It is true that these pictures are a curious mixture ofreaHsm
and idealism, but it is precisely that quaHty that is so characteristic of
Baroque in the Czech countries. Looking at the face of St Wenceslas, so
full ofgentleness and charity, we see a Christian seeking conciHation, rather
than a conqueror. And if we stand in front of the faces of those angels
surrounded by a halo of Hght, who seem at the same time impalpable yet
close to us, how can we talk of the mundane?
St Wenceslas was also the theme chosen by Johan-George Bendl, the
first Czech artist who broke away from wood-carving to car^-e statuary
(1625 ?-8o). In his early work we find St Wenceslas standing stiffly on top
of a column wreathed with vines. Later on, after his taste had developed
during his stay in Italy, he carved a statue of St Wenceslas on horseback
which shows a certain mastery of the difficult teclinical problems inherent
in depicting movement. The dynamic quaHty he sought stiU eluded liim
one carmot pretend that Bendl was a master. The fact, however, that he
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
206 turned to Baroque to express the traditional religious memories of Bo-
hemia is worth remembering and possibly of more significance than his
actual work.
The Cathohc clergy hoped now to complete the spiritual conquest of
the country. It was not only a question of training an ehte in the Jesuit
colleges. There was indeed no lack of learned Fathers. Those who were
Czech, like the ardent Bohuslav Balbin (1621-88), nourished their patriot-
ism by recaUing the great historical past ofBohemia. In 1660 Father Steyer
pubhshed the Graminatica Bohemica, compiled by
J.
Drachovsky
(1577-
1644)
and eight years later a Correct Method
of
writing andprinting the Czech
language.
The task of reaching the poorest class was no less urgent, and here we
may consider the interestiug and revealing case of Father Bridel (1619-80)
who was for a long time Hbrarian in Prague. He was a poet writing in the
manner of Angelus Silesius and Spee; he also translated Latin and French
texts into Czech, though possibly for these he used German versions in-
stead of the originals. It was he who set out to re-estabhsh religion in the
country districts and get in touch with the simple folk by teaching them
prayers, hymns and the elements ofthe catechism. It was not easy. Though
in the south the people
perhaps influenced by the monasteries
^had re-
sisted the Reformation, those in the central and western districts still in-
sisted upon the plain Scriptures and rejected any rituahsm. The missionaries
sometimes found their work thwarted by bishops who were jealous of
their prerogatives or by landlords who maintained that the corvee apphed
to Sundays as well as weekdays. The efforts to convert the people were not
always confmed to gentle persuasion: the soldiers were sometimes called
in and there were autos dafe
ofCzech books, not because they were written
in the vernacular but because they were considered heretical. In 1671 com-
pulsory tickets for confession were introduced. The result was that in the
'80s, which marked the beginning of a more lenient pohcy towards the
Czech peasant, a great many of them had returned to the old faith and, in
certain districts, become extremely devout.^' Even those whose fathers had
suffered for the reformed faith, and whose descendants would in their turn
try to revive the ideals of
Jan
Hus and
Jan
Zizka, now professed CathoH-
cism. The nation had Uved through a period of untold suffering. During
these years, when misery had to be endured and hope fostered, the emo-
tions reigned supreme over any appeal to reason or abstract theory. Above
all, the people sought for some consolation and happiness in their hves and
they responded to the rehgious lessons and the outward show of CathoU-
cism. The calvaries at the crossroads and the statues of the Virgin and the
saints became part of the landscape. St John Nepomuk was there to ward
offfloods; St Florian protected houses from fire or hghtning; St Wenceslas
was venerated as the founder of independent Bohemia, and St Ludmilla,
who had introduced Christianity and suffered martyrdom, was also re-
vered. Their images became very real to the country folk and seemed al-
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ways there to help them. It mattered httlc enough how much supersititon 207
crept into this cult of samts, for the ruling classes encouraged such habits.
The nobihty were also becoming more attached to their country houses.
Some, like Humprecht Cernin or Count Michael Thun, built new castles,
and even those who kept their old houses saw that the interior decoration
was brought up to date. They showed the same enthusiasm in restoring
ruined churches or building new ones. They also enjoyed the right of
patronage, though their choice of a vicar was dependent on the Arch-
bishop's approval. In the hard and monotonous life of the peasant the
greatest day of the year was the feast of the local saint, which combined
rehgious festivities and a village fete. The long winter evenings were spent
in preparing for these feasts. On the day itself festive dresses were worn
that had been handed down from generation to generation and were
decorated with ribbons of every colour, hats trimmed with flowers, and
starched, exquisitely embroidered linen worked on cloth as fme as that of
the dazzling altar cloths.
There were rehgious processions with shining crosses and waving ban-
ners, where the lord of the manor, taper in hand, headed the column that
followed the Holy Sacrament; then there were processions in honour of
the Virgin in the month of May, when the late Czech spring begins; then
on the feast of St John Nepomuk interminable processions in Prague from
the villages nearby and from even remote districts, which wended their
way to the Charles bridge, which tradition said was the spot where St
John Nepomuk had been thrown into the river. These days often ended
with profane amusements, village dances to the rhythm ofrustic musicians
(the 'dudaky'), songs and hand-clapping.
Such was the world ofthe Czech countryside, the world depicted in the
famous novel by Bozena Nemcova, Bahicka, where the principal heroine
is an old peasant woman who for generations remained a national sym-
bolic figure.^^
In Austria itself things ran more smoothly, for there was no latent conflict
between the sovereign and the people. The rural population remained
faithful to their rehgious traditions; St Leopold was held in much venera-
tion and the beautiful abbey of Klostememburg just outside Vienna was
dedicated to him; St Florian still retained all his popularity. Vienna, be-
cause of the Turkish menace, remained a fortified city so that, although it
had become the capital since the Emperor had taken up his residence there,
it could not expand beyond the ramparts. Some of the old churches were
completely transformed and one of the most charming examples is the
church Am Hof. Here Carlo Carlone had only a small space to work in,
but he composed a dehghtful facade with a balustraded terrace above the
porch, set back the main part of the building, and used two elegant pavih-
ons to link up the church with the other buildings of the square (1662).
Sometimes, as at the Schottenkirche, it was only the decorations of the
p
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
208 interior that were brought up to date. Other architects continued in the
tradition of Vignola, whose influence is apparent in the tall facade of the
Ursuhnes {in the Johanngasse) which terminates in a large pediment with
volutes and small obehsks
(1675).
Great plans were prepared for the Hofburg after the fire of 1668 had
destroyed the wing that Luchese had built six years previously. In its place
Johann Phihp Quenzer and Domenico Carlone built the noble Leopold-
inischeTrakt (1672-81) which, with itstwenty-five apses ofthree windows,
crowned by consoles that are almost lost in the shadow ofthejutting roof,
makes a sober and majestic impression.^^
One of the great aristocrats. Prince Karl-Eusebius von Liechtenstein, a
great builder and collector, advised his fellow peers to make the magnifi-
cence of their palaces a point of honour amongst themselves. He recom-
mends a long fa(;adethe longer a building is, he said, the more pleasing
it becomeswith agreat many windows and columns. He is not, however,
only concerned with beauty and magnificence, but also with health. He
wished to see the state apartments confined to the piano nobile and points
out that, although it is inconvenient to have to climb so many stairs, the
air will be purer and more salubrious on the third floor.
In 1664 thirty-one middle-class houses had been levelled to make room
for nine town houses for the nobihty; but now Vienna faced the problem
that had already become acute in Parislack ofspace, for both cities were
bursting at the seams. The Emperor, when the hunting season or the heat
of summer did not make him prefer Laxenburg, wished Vienna to be the
scene of a brilliant Court hfe. He knew of the great ItaHan fiestas and
French fetes and did not want the Hapsburgs to lag behind. He also genu-
inely enjoyed such entertainments and was himself a musician and com-
poser. He had his ov^m chapel and his Court musicians.
His marriage with the Infanta Marguerita-Maria was the occasion of
many festivities. There were tilting matches to a musical accompaniment;
there was a theatrical piece called La Contessa deW Ariae deW Acqua, and a
musical drama called II Porno d'Oro that was more complex than any opera.
The composer was an ItaHan, Cesti, who was second Kapelmeister at the
Court and one of the most accompHshed musicians of the time. Some of
the arias were written by the Emperor himself
[149
&
150].
Though poetry was not forgottenAlmateo de Pordenone was Court
poetthe overriding passion was opera. This passion grew to such an
extent that between 1669 and the end of the century Franz Minato had to
produce Hbretti for no less than a hundred and seventy operas and ora-
torios.^^
The pubhc began to take an increasing interest in the Emperor and his
court, and the Germans were confident that he would be able to re-estab-
hsh a sound economy throughout the Empire.^^ The Emperor, in short,
began to inspire loyalty, and when he married Eleonora of Neuburg aU
his subjects were anxious that the dynasty should now be assured. An
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Augustinian monk, Abraham a Sancta Clara, the son of a Swabian inn-
209
keeper, was now court preacher and took upon himself to express the
touching hope that inspired all the Emperor's subjects, Bohemians, Mora-
vians and Hungarians alike. In one extraordinary lyrical flight he wishes
'their Most Gracious Majesties as much happiness as there are trees in the
forest, grass in the meadows, drops of water in the fountains, rays in the
sun, sands in the sea, stars in the sky, and above all he wishes them the seed
ofthe arch-patriarch Abraham'.
^^
The wish came true, and sons were born
to the Emperor. But we can see how the Imperial idea was wrapping itself
round with an atmosphere of fanatical enthusiasm which in some ways
reminds us of the fervent zeal which the missionaries of the Counter-
Reformation tried to arouse for the Catholic faith. No doubt it was not
unanimous, and very shortly before, in 1671, a plot inspired by the Hun-
garian nobles had been discovered. Although they had been mercilessly
punished, Hungary still remained practically ungovernable, and a land of
simmering rebellion. The Bohemian nobles were less formidable because
they considered their own interests to be linked with those ofthe Emperor,
but they were none the less determined that the Imperial administration
should not penetrate into their ownjealously guarded domains. A French-
man travelling through Bohemia about this time observed shrewdly
enough 'Might one not say that the aristocracy hinders as much as it can
the service of His Majesty, which certainly does not appear to be any too
firm;
'2^
CHAPTER X
Imperial baroque
'AUF, auf,
ihr Christen! Arise, arise, ye Christians!' Once more it is the
trumpet voice ofAbraham a Sancta Clara sounding the call. It is the sum-
mer of 1683: Transylvania and Hungary wêre in revolt, the Turks had
seized their opportunity to press on to the gates of Vienna and trenches
wêre hurriedly dug outside the city walls. There was already a crisis in
European pohtics, and both the Empire and Spain were watching Louis
XIV with deep anxiety. The treaties of WestphaHa, of the Pyrenees, Aix-
la-Chapelle, and Nimegue had given France so many advantages that its
preponderance was taken for granted. Now they were being exploited to
the utmost. Quoting clause after clause and protesting that he was only
pleading for his rights, Louis continually claimed new territories. If there
were no suitable pretext, as for the annexation of Strasbourg and Casal, he
alleged necessity. He did not, he protested, want war; but he displayed his
mihtary might, and got his way, even though the fear that he was seeking
universal domination increased. Where indeed could one look for help
against him?
England was complacent. The Emperor could achieve something if only
Germany were united behind him, but the Elector of Brandenburg, the
most powerful of the German princes, provisionally advised resignation.
And now came this Turkish menace in the East. If Vienna should fall it
meant that the way lay open to the heart of the Empire. The Pope,
Innocent XI, became so alarmed that he admonished all Christian princes
and begged them to reaHze that Christianity itself was in danger, that it
was the Crescent against the Cross, the Cross which was the symbol of
Rome but also ofthe Protestants and the Orthodox. The first to reaHze the
danger was Poland, for her own territories also lay open to a Turkish
attack. KingJohn Sobieski signed a treaty ofmutual aid with the Emperor
and himself took the field at the head of his formidable cavalry. German
contingents were sent by Hanover, Saxe, Wiirtemberg, the Palatinate,
Hesse-Cassel, Bavaria and Anhalt. They all joined up with the small Im-
perial army commanded by Charles ofLorraine. When, on 12th Septem-
ber 1683, they took up their
p
-inons on the heights above Vienna, it
might have been a scene from th( Crusades. The Papal legatea Capuchin
monk Marco d'Avrano
^preached to the assembled troops, just as a ser-

IMPERIAL BAROQUE
mon had been preached by the Carmchtc, Dominique de Jesus Maria, 211
before the battle ofthe White Mountain. King Sobieski, the German prin-
ces, Max Emmanuel ofBavaria and Charles ofLorraine all partook of the
Holy Sacrament. Morale was high and it was this rather than any military
skill that led to victory. The Sultan's troops, who had not expected any en-
gagement before the spring, were taken completely by surprise, aban-
doned camp and, panic-stricken, fell back towards Hungary.
The numerous discussions, usually biased by the ideological outlook of
the individual historians, about the merits of the victory and its military
importance, or about the jealousies that promptly grew up between the
victors, are largely futile. One fact that remains indisputable is that the
victory was of immense profit to the Emperor. Henceforward his minis-
ters made sure of maintaining a strong army under the command of the
Duke ofLorraine and the Margraf of Baden, and now planned the recon-
quest of Hungary. Every year more towns were liberated and in 1686
Buda itself was reUeved.
The deHverance ofVienna was celebrated by thanksgiving services in all
the churches, fetes were staged in the city and a spate ofprintsthey were
the equivalent of our magazines todaywas widely circulated. The Em-
peror is shown as a Roman conqueror in triumphal procession. He is
seated in a chariot hung with the trophies of war, dragging behind him a
train of Mohammedan prisoners, captured Turkish standards decorated
with horses' tails, and tall melancholy-looking camels. Above, surrounded
by a glory of clouds, the Church might be seen showering its blessing and
thanks upon him. Here was a second Constantine!^ It did not matter much
that this Constantine was no soldier and had remained down in Linz w^hile
the other princes had undertaken the dehverance of Vienna. Quite a lot of
people, both in the Empire and abroad, gave him the credit for this
glorious victory.
With Vienna no longer in danger and with Hungary reconquered, a
new era began in which the Hapsburg lands and Hapsburg poHcy counted
for something in the pattern ofEurope. The Hapsburgs became, what they
had never been before, a great power.
From now, right up to the time whenthe crisis ofthe Austrian succession
shook the State and revealed its inherent weaknesses (and even this crisis
was overcome), there were about forty years of uninterrupted success and
growing prestige. It seemed possible that the Danubian territories might
form a state, or even become a fatherland, for although they were an ex-
tension of the German Empire, they maintained a distinct individuaht)-.
The social system strengthened the position of tlie great nobles and
prelates; the great estates grew more prosperous, though the lot of the
workers, upon whom the whole economic hfe depended, showed no cor-
responding ameHoration. There was a determination to maintain the status
quo and sons were expected to foUow strictly in their fathers' footsteps;
there was a patemahsm that sprang from no profound wisdom but did
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
212 provide a sort of family benevolence under the pretext ofbeing just com-
monsense or the fruit of experience. Habits on the whole became very set,
although the taste for ostentation increased.^
The fact that all social classes v^êre nov^ enjoying a better standard of
hving and that some people had done very wêll for themselves, led to the
comfortable illusion that everything was perfectly all right, that the present
system was healthy and durable and aU that was necessary was to leave
well alonethe machine would run by itself. If defects and snags could
not be ignored they could be put down to the frailty of human nature or
regarded as acts of God.
This background and the outlook on hfe that it fostered explain the
general success and individual characteristics of Austrian civihzation and
the new pattern developed by Baroque.
As the nobles grew richer their rivalry in out-building each other in-
creased. Prince Eugene decided that his residences must be worthy of his
great political and mihtary prestige;^ the Chancellor of Bohemia, not to
disgrace his office, must have one of the fmest palaces in Vienna; the great
noble famihesthe Schwarzenberg, the Lobkowicz, the Dietrichstein, the
Kinsky, the Clam-Gallas, the Daun, the Schonborn and the Eszterhazy
commissioned building after building, palaces in Prague and Vienna, and

country houses on their estates. They provided a magnificent setting for
the unending round of receptions, theatrical performances, and concerts,
or for house parties during the hunting season.*
This boom naturally increased the demand for skilled executants. The
fact that technical knowledge had by now become far more widespread
and the population had steadily increased enabled this demand to be met
in part by indigenous artists, so that we find the percentage of ItaHans
employed, though still high, decreasing. The best of the Danubian artists,
however, had been trained in Italy and they no less than the ItaHans them-
selves studied the most successful achievements there, and later on also in
France, in an endeavour to single out elements that would appeal to the
Austrian taste. These they welded together to form a new style, which still
remained Baroque in feeling but was quite original in character.
The grace of curved lines and the subtle effects of an oval plan are par-
ticularly favoured in the numerous new churches and houses. Some models
were furnished by Bernini's work, but it was the achievements of Borro-
mini and Guarini that were more often imitated. Decoration tended to be
lavish and flowery; the brilHance of coloured marble capped by gilded
capitals was much admired; the cupolas of the churches, and the vaulting
of side chapels were covered by dazzHng, if facile, frescoes, and the same
style was used in painting the ceilings or the state rooms in the palaces. Nor
had that extraordinary tour de force which Pozzo had carried out at Sant
Ignazio been forgotten, and trompe Voeil was extensively revived to give
effects of great spaciousness. Painting and sculpture became even more
closely aUied and the theme ofan altar picture is taken up by the numerous
IMPERIAL BAROQUE
pieces ofstatuary on the altar piece or in the surrounds of a reredos. It may 213
be a miracle or an ecstasy, or scenes of battles and victories where every-
thing becomes a frenzy of movement. Another characteristic of Austrian
architecture is that the desire to astonish by sheer size is tempered by a
wish to charm.
Vienna at this time was being rebuilt and transformed into a beautiful
city at an amazing speed but, unlike Rome or Paris, she founded no school.
Perhaps that is why there is no central authority here. The artistic move-
ment is far more aristocratic than Imperial. The Emperor himself was but
one more customer amongst the noble cHentele. If it were not sacrilegious
one might say that this was sometimes also true of God, so busy were the
artists fulfiUing commissions to glorify His saints. Indeed tliis demand for
artists from every side explains why we fmd a general dispersion rather
than a few concentrations of Baroque art throughout the Hapsburg lands
and running into south and west Germany. Here it met with other artistic
influences flowing in from France (especially the work of the French
decorators) but these were easily assimilated, and we get the abbeys of
Bavaria, Franconia and Swabia. A httle later on and we shall see the grace-
ful and meticulous being favoured at the expense of the monumental
that is, the advent of Rococo. But we must not anticipate. In northern
Germany both Protestant severity and the authority of the Prince checked
this lyricism. The Baroque of the Electoral Palace in Berlin, designed by
Andreas Schliiter, has all the soHd and august quaUties ofa Roman building.
The overriding necessity of producing so much in so short a time, the
determined search for surprising and novel effects, the sudden overwhelm-
ing fashion for this style and for virtuosity explain why the work of this
time is so unequal.
When one reahzes how much the characteristics of a society may sway
the artist in his choice of forms, and, vice versa, how great an influence a
masterpiece may exert on the emotions and outlook of the people who
see it every day, one cannot deny that there exists some affmity between
Baroque and the Austrian spirit, which often valued sensibiUty and taste
above the rigorous demands of deductive reason or settled purpose. It is
easy to understand the conflicts in the national struggles of the nineteenth
century and how the middle classes who attached more and more im-
portance to practical affairs rejected all that this pleasing but purely im-
aginative art could offer. But it had none the less produced masterpieces
which display the genius of undeniably great artists. In Vienna the palaces
of the end of the century show that the new generation of ItaHan artists
working in the Austrian capital had a surer technique and greater imagina-
tion than their predecessors.
In the Dietrichstein-Lobkowicz Palace, Tencala achieved, by means of
the simple columns that flank the staircase, a truly Florentine elegance
[151].
In the Liechtenstein Palace, which was built by Domenico Mar-
tinelli, the facade is wonderfully harmonious and noble, and his treatment
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
214 of the interior shows a purely Roman inspiration, the first that seeks no
compromise with local tradition. In the provinces, Santini and Ahprandi
show an admirable sense ofcomposition in their arrangement of a building
around a large oval pavilion; this is seen both at the Kinsky Summer Palace
at Chlumec on the Cidhna (in Bohemia) and at the Kounic residence at
Slavkov-AusterUtz, in Moravia.^
One sign of how high the prestige of the Emperor stood at the time is
that, just as once the Pope had been willing to lend Bernini to Louis XIV,
the Pope now gave permission for Andrea Pozzo to work in Vienna. So
this artist, who was almost as famous for his treatise on perspective as for
the magnificent ceihng at Sant Ignazio, spent the last seven years ofhis life in
Austria. Here he wore himself out, but till the very end there was no
dechne of his powers. He left two masterpieces: the ceiling of the great
hall in the summer palace ofthe Liechtenstein at Rosau, and the interior of
the University Church
[152].
The latter, as can still be seen from its facade,
was an austere building in the early Counter-Reformation style. Pozzo
transformed it into a Httle temple of glory and apotheosis in the Roman
manner. Under the arcades of the four bays twin columns support small
semicircular tribunes. These columns, except in the two end chapels where
they are twisted, are straight, and their red or green marble strike a serious
note in the symphony ofcolour that fdls the whole church. Brilhant notes
enliven the compositions which fill the divisions of the vault, and then in
their midst is a cupola, grey and gold, with its pendentives and drumthe
whole a superb example otrompe Voeil painting. The cupola, though it is
but an illusion, appears to soar up from the nave and give it a greater
width than it really has. It is even a more ingenious piece ofpainting than
that at Sant Ignazio, though its fuU effect is only apparent when one is
walking towards the altar.
Before the high altar are two superb Corinthian pdlars with a pediment
segmented to allow a large crovvm to be seen, from which draperies hang.
This alternation of the real and the illusory is very strange and the effects
ofperspective are increased by grooves which surround the central picture
of the Assumption. It is an effort to break with the ordinary and the hum-
drum, and in this it is successful. It shows a desire to enable the spirit to be
more easily rapt away and does correspond to some form of reHgious
emotion, which it would be childish to condemn on the groimds that they
are nowadays unfashionable. It is indisputably a masterpiece, since it can
still dehght and charm us, though there is such a plethora ofvirtuosity and
varying effects, that it misses the inherent power which is the hallmark of
the greatest works of art.^
The feeling ofinnate strength that Pozzojust missed can be found, however,
in other Austrian buildings. There were three great architects amongst the
Germans: Johann Bernhard Fischer von Erlach, Hildebrandt, and Prand-
tauer.'^ The first of these was born in 1656, the son of a sculptor in Graz.
TT
\
"* j'j
ir"
i !
1
1
i
if
PP
^l^fl)^
VII The tradition ot Borromini continued by the Gernian artists ot the eighteenth
century is evident in the church of St John Nepomuk in Munich, built by the
Asam brothers. The figures in the choir illustrate the dogma of the Trinity
IMPERIAL BAROQUE
During his youth he spent twenty years in Rome with the family of a 215
Tyrolean artist called Schor, who had collaborated with Bernini. Fischer
von Erlach was on friendly terms with Carlo Fontana, who was Bernini's
nephew, and he may well have known the great architect himself for ten
years. More important than this, however, was the daily opportunity of
studying the Roman monuments. When he went to Italy it was with the
intention of becoming a sculptor Hke his father, but during his stay there
he decided to become an architect instead. He was recalled to Austria and
became drawing-master to the Archduke Joseph. When in due course his
pupil became Emperor, he appointed von Erlach to the post of Principal
Inspector of the Royal Buildings. Commissions flowed in. In Salzburg he
built two fme churches for the Prince Elector: the Trinity in
1694 and the
Collegienkirche in 1696. The first of these remind one of the graceful
composition of Sant' Agnese; the second, with its large curved portico be-
tween two towers with loggias, shows plainly the influence of Borromini.
Prince Eugene asked him for a design for his winter palace and von Erlach
designed as one of its main features a magnificent ceremonial staircase,
which was ornamented with Atlantes, so that every time the prince entered
his house he enjoyed a triumphal procession
[153
&
154].
The Emperor
asked for plans for Schonbrunn, and Count Clam-Gallas commissioned
him to build his town palace in Prague. It is interesting to know that while
von Erlach was in Bohemia he metJean-Baptiste Mathcy and admired the
elegance and strength of his architecture. Later on, when he visited Eng-
land he got to know both Wren and Vanbrugh.
Lukas von Hildebrandt, the second architect mentioned, was his junior
by twelve years. He too had been trained in Italy, but in Turin instead of
Rome; there he steeped himself in the works of Guarini, which thus
became the predominant influence in the formation of his own style.
During the campaign in Piedmont he was an engineer with the Imperial
forces and met Prince Eugene, who brought him back vdth him to Austria,
Here the two architects became rivals, but the difierences in their early
training led them to use a profoundly different architectural idiom. The
palaces of Fischer von Erlach have a Roman majesty. His facades are faced
with pilasters and crowned by attic storeys and balustrades. The main
lines of the bmldings are calm and serene: the decoration is suppHed by
sculpture, a profusion of statues of Termes and Atlantes. Hildebrandt's
style is more compHcated and vigorous. His masterpiece is the famous
Belvedere in Vienna, which was Prince Eugene's summer palace
[156].
Here the articulation is determined by a series ofpavilionsthe central one
in advancewhich open out between two small comer turrets vidth steep
arrises capped by cupolas. The garden front boasts a large loggia of three
arches under a big curved pediment. Statues are used as pedestals along the
architrave as though they were supporting it, though it is clear that they
fulfil no structural need. It is a victory offantasy over logic, and the effect
is enchanting.
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
21
6
Fischer von Erlach and Hildebrandt are complementary, and one is
inevitably reminded of Bernini and Borromini, for here again are two
artists with incompatible genius both working at the same time to beautify
and transform a capital city. Some have hailed Fischer von Erlach as the
founder ofa new style which combined the two apparently irreconcilable
elements of Roman Baroque and French Classicism.^ One might question
whether the two styles are really so antagonistic. It seems much more
likely that von Erlach, with so many years experience in so many different
countries, became a true European.
He certainly kept in touch with the major works ofhis contemporaries
and had grasped the fact that their art reflected the historical changes ofthe
times. Bernini had interpreted the triumph of the Papacy; the French
classical school celebrated the victories of the greatest monarch ofhis age;
"Wren expressed the power of a Britain that was strong enough to chal-
lenge the hegemony of France and would shortly expand her influence
throughout the world. It was these grand conceptions that sustained the
great masters and fired their imagination. Without such an ideal they
would have remained but copyists of an earher heroic style; inspired by it
they became creative artists. In the service of a glorious and mighty
sovereign, or of a noble who led the Hfe of a great prince, or of a soldier
whose fame recalled the heroes of antiquity, the artist could feel that he
had a mission to fulfil. Whether he were architect or painter it was for him
to use all that he had learnt from the traditional sources and adapt those
lessons to present circumstances in honour of his august patrons. Monu-
mental size must be combined with elegance. The most imposing and
durable piece of architecture should also have the graceful quaHty of
music, the most transient of the arts, and at this time the most favoured.
Schonbrunn as we see it today, a pleasant enough echo of Versailles,
does not at all resemble the first plans drawn up by Fischer von Erlach.
If we wish to know what Inigo Jones and Webb would have built at
Whitehall, what Bernini would have made ofthe Louvre, or what Fischer
von Erlach planned for Schonbrunn, we must look up the archives for
contemporary prints. The palace of Schonbrunn was meant to be on the
high ground where the Gloriette now stands, and its great mass outlined
against the sky would have been a worthy monument to the grandeur of
the Hapsburg Emperors. But here, and also in what would have been his
second great secular building, von Erlach was frustrated. His ambition was
to have completed the rebuilding of the old Hofburg, but all that he
achieved was the noble chancellory wing and the beautiful decorations
of the hbrary. In his ecclesiastical architecture he was more fortunate, and
has left one church worthy of his ambitions. This is the Karlskirche in
Vienna
[159].
It was a votive church which the Emperor Charles VI built
in honour of his patron saint. Carlo Borromeo, whose intercession had
been prayed for during an epidemic of the plague, which ended in 1713.
The church was begun in 171 6. Fischer von Erlach died before it was
IMPERIAL BAROQUE
finished but it was completed to liis plans by his son Joseph Emmanuel. 217
The Karlskirchc is an imposing building which is well situated in a large
space left free after the demohtion of the old ramparts, but it is not in any
way on the scale ofa cathedral. It is often asked whether it is a success. It is
difficult to doubt it, even if one's admiration is not whole-hearted. One
could say that it is less an organic entity than a juxtaposition of separate
elements, but also its great merit lies in bringing these together and uniting
them in an indissoluble and daring plan. When one enters the church, the
nave, in the form ofan ellipse wliich supports the dome and is surrounded
by a small and large side-chapels, has neither the amplitude nor majesty of
the superb octagon ofthe Salute. It is prolonged by the choir and the high
altar, though this appears to be a unit distinct from the ellipse
[160]. The
problems of space are solved, it might be alleged, in a clever but facile
manner. But what grandeur and what grace
!
The exterior is a most surprising feat of imagination. The entrance is
a small peristyle of six columns; on each side the walls curve back to join
up with two towers, where two great open arches support second storeys
that are crowned by squat onion cupolas. The dominating features are the
dome and two high rostral columns that stand in the curve of the walls.
The dome has a majesty that makes it not unworthy of comparison with
the great masterpieces that crown St Peter's in Rome, St Paul's in London,
or the Invalides in Paris. It is in striking contrast to the vertical lines of the
two columns. These are imitations ofthe antique columns ofAntonius and
Trajan in Rome, but here the reHefs are of scenes that symboHze the Im-
perial virtues of temperance and constancy
[158].
All these elements, chosen from so many different traditions, achieve a
most happy balance and it is only later on that one may see how distinctly
individual they aresome diluted with the charming but fragile extrava-
gance of Rococo, others hardened by the austere abstractions of the neo-
classical.^
It is the equihbrium between them that gives such originahty to the
church; it can be sumptuous without being heavy, and refmed without
being artificial. It was intended to be a reply to the monuments of other
European capitals, and to express the message of the Austrian Empire in a
belated but unforgettable addition to the grand and triumphant architec-
ture of the seventeenth century.
Johann Prandtauer, the third great German architect mentioned, is not an
architect who caters for the Emperor or the court circles. He is the great
exponent of another aspect of Austrian architecturethe monastic. The
building or reconstruction of abbeys was not, of course, confmed to Cen-
tral Europe. During the seventeenth century, and more especially as it
drew to a close and rents from landed property increased, it was a pheno-
menon common to all the Cathohc countries of Europe.
Lecce, in southern Italy, presents even today one ofthe richest and most
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
21 8 interesting assembly of Baroque buildings. Its charming churches, in vari-
ous styles and highly decorated, are practically all connected with reUgious
orders: Santa Chiara with the Franciscans, Sant' Irena with the Theatines,
the Carmine with the CarmeHtes and Santa Croce, with its incomparably
rich facade, with the Celestines
[162].
France also would probably have had some evidence of her own to
show had not the Revolution or, still worse, the black gangs of the Res-
toration days mutilated or dispersed so much. In Austria and southern
Germany, poUtical and social circumstances were more favourable. All
through the eighteenth century, monastic churches and buildings were
still being rebuilt, or sometimesjust repaired and adapted to contemporary
taste. Such was the case at Klostemeuburg, when the Emperor Charles VI
suddenly took it into his head to make a new Escorial out ofthe Augustine
monastery. He was never able to fmish this and what there is is only a
small fraction of what had been planned. But Prandtauer had already
transformed the old Romanesque church with its nave and two aisles into
a sumptuous and gay Baroque church, in which the original lines can still
be traced. One cannot talk ofvandaHsm, since one fme work had replaced
another and within the walls that he had built there was to grow up one of
the noblest examples of Baroque decoration. At the main altar, there is a
magnificent curve which brings the columns to surround the central pic-
ture of the reredos.
At St Florian it was decided to reconstruct the abbey as a votive offering
after the siege of Vienna. The first plans had been drawn up by Carlo
Carlone. Later on, in 1708, Prandtauer was called in by the Abbot Foder-
mayer, the son of a peasant of St Florian whose fanatical local patriotism
was largely responsible for carrying on the building. Prandtauer worked
on here until 1726. In his plan for the marble hall, the straight columns
along the walls give an air ofsolemnity and triumph that is perfectly suited
to a memorial of the glorious hberation of Vienna and the victories over
the Turks. It is one of the finest works of monastic architecture.
But his most remarkable success is the complex ofthe monastery build-
ings at Melk on the Danube, which he planned in 1702 [165].^^ A huge
spur of rock over the Danube offered a site of exceptional beauty. Fischer
von Erlach had already shown at the chateau ofFrain (Vranov in Moravia)
which overlooks the Dye, how such a situation could best be exploited.
Prandtauer may have remembered this, but his ov^ti interpretation is re-
markably original. Take for example the way in which fortified bastions
on the land side are balanced by the swelling curves of the magnificent
terrace overlooking the river. Seen from the vaUey, these appear to support
the whole building and, in contrast to the fortress-Hke entrance, seem
redolent ofpeace and serene well-being. The monastic buildings round the
Prelate's Court are quite regular, but from there a staircase leads up by
easy stages to the terrace and the magnificent church. Rising high above
the terrace between the two Hvely facades of the marble hall (less solemn
IMPERIAL BAROQUE
here than at St Florian, but ofa flawless elegance) and of the library
[167
& 219
168], the church is an admirably harmonious composition with its twin
onion towers standing forward from the great drum that carries the
cupola. There is a continuous and delicate interplay between the concave
and convex volumes, vertical lines, curves, and spherical surfaces. The
'orchestration' of the interior recalls the Gesu in Rome [166 &: VI].
The ground-plans of both churches consist of a single nave with side-
chapels that link up through the thickness of the buttresses. But in Melk
the soaring height of the building and the spaciousness of the bays almost
give the impression of a church with nave and aisles. At the transept cross-
ing, the drum supporting the cupola opens up a new vista. Along the walls
ofthe nave, tall grooved pilasters rise to support the cornice of red marble
which is recessed above the curved tribunes in the balcony. These con-
trasting lines call forth such a strong feeling of movement that the very
building seems to undulate. The profusion of frescoes and decorative
motifs on the ceiling, the generous use of statuary in the main chapels in
the transepts and on the high altar, the gilded busts that decorate the nave
and the magnificently elaborate organ cases, all combine to give the sanc-
tuary an intensely emotional appeal. One can fmd an amazing variety of
accentuation in the churches in Rome, but though Melk may have Roman
derivations we have here another style of Baroque.
As a matter of personal taste one may prefer one to the other, but each
has its own character and a different ideal to express. Roman Baroque
even in the most unexpected inventions of Borrominiretains affinities

with the majesty of the antique or the subtleties of Renaissance Florence.
Austrian Baroque fmds some of the elation that marked the Gothic or
Flamboyant styles. The Roman is perhaps more self-sufficient; Melk, one
might almost say, requires music to complete its full beautytransient
melodies in a building which itself seems evanescent.^^
Austrian Baroque can also be distinguished by its choice of certain
motifs, or by its originahty in combining different themes. Even when it
uses twin towers joined to a facade, the design is freer and the towers
higher than those one would fmd in Itahan Baroque. They have some
affinity with the soaring spires of Gothic cathedrals. Whether Fischer von
Erlach built the church at Haindorf (Heinice) in Bohemia is still a matter
of debate. But it is of interest because here the architect has abandoned
Hturgical orientation and the church points towards the mountains which
he uses, as it were, as an immense backcloth. On either side of the large
convex portico the twin fmely proportioned towers, placed on the dia-
gonal, support onion-shaped bell turrets. This became a favourite design
with that family ofTyrolean architects, the Dientzenhofer (John
worked at
Fulda in Germany, and Christopher and his son Kihan-Ignatius in Bo-
hemia) and was fashionable throughout the first half of the eighteentli
century. It reached its culmination in the moving facade of Balthasar
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
220 Neumann's pilgrimage church of Vierzehnheihgen in Bavaria
[178]. We
often fmd a dome associated with the twin towers; it either rises above the
nave to equal their height by being supported on a drum at the transept
crossing, or it may on the contrary subordinate them to its own mass to
strengthen the effect ofits size and power. Such was Hildebrandt's solution
in the church of St Laurent at Deutsch-Gabel in Bohemia and in St Peters-
kirche in Vienna.^^
For the interior, the plan usually revives the theme ofinterlacing ellipses
as interpreted by the subtle combinations that had been worked out by
Guarini or Borromini. The multiplicity ofcontrasting effects, and the sur-
prising but harmonious results that were achieved can be seen in the
Piaristine church, Maria Treu, in Vienna, where all is convex or concave
and yet has on the whole an atmosphere of fme and dehcate beauty that
cannot but call forth rehgious feeling
[169].
Equally successful is St Nicholas de Mala Strana in Prague, built between
1704 and 1750 to the plans ofKihan-Ignatius Dientzenhofer who had per-
haps used those of his father Christopher or of other artists. This church
was meant for the Jesuit college and it is curious as we look at it to recall
the Itahan or French churches built a hundred years earher for the same
purpose, and see how Httle they have in common.
Some Czech critics here fmd both the direct influence ofGuarini's work
mingled with echoes from Mansart.^^ Its sheer size is impressiveits pro-
portions are almost the same as those of Melk.^* Nor does it show any less
originahty than Prandtauer's work when it comes to adapting the tradi-
tional Baroque themes. Its strongly curved front is both a revival and a
transformation of the seventeenth-century Itahan facade. The magnificent
ribbed dome and adjacent campanile produce an unforgettable impression
of strength, but the whiteness of the stone and the green patina which the
years have given the copper ofthe dome and campanile add gay and clear
notes of colour to the solemnity of the whole
[175].
The interior is sumptuous and graceful: the beautiful side-chapels are of
such depth that one might take them for aisles, though the plan is of one
central nave, the statues are full of movement and on a gigantic scale, the
painted ceiling is a striking work in the Venetian style by Kracker, and the
fluid design ofthe choir is most elegant
[176].
It is one ofthe most beautiful
churches in Europe. Though at first glance it may appear surprising, one
is soon conscious ofits charma charm that comes from an inherent unity,
perfect proportions, and the profound, unaffected conviction with which
the interplay of contrasting lines is handled.^^
To be able to cite, as we have just done, first an Austrian and then a
Bohemian church as examples ofone style, shows how regional differences
were now becoming obhterated. Though various parts of the Empire
might still retain their diverse laws, they shared a common civihzation and
the same social life.^^ One could cite another example: the cult of St John
Nepomuk was primarily a Czech phenomenon and his canonization in
IMPERIAL BAROQUE
1729 had been the cause of great national rejoicing throughout Bohemia, 221
but now he was a favourite throughout the Austrian provinces and was
even welcomed in Hungary. The Czech nobles began to invite artists who
had made their mark in Vienna, and we fmd that Bohemian Baroque is no
longer directly inspired by Italy but comes within the orbit ofAustrian art.
Prague began to compete with Vienna. There were many more com-
missions and, since Czech taste at this time was rather eclectic, we fmd
some curious juxtapositions. The great religious paintings of Peter Brandl
(1668-173
5)
are in the Roman tradition but are also contemporary with
the brilliant work of Laurent-Wenceslas Reiner (i 689-1
743)
who was in-
spired by Pozzo and the Venetian school.
The taste, virtuosity and dash of Reiner's work, achieves, by quite
different methods, a decorative effect that might be of the seventeenth
century. We can see this in his Battle
of
the Titans in the Cemin palace, or
The LastJudgment for the church of St Francis ofAssisi: but when he paints
St Wenceslas, a subject that demands a feeling for patriotism and great
sincerity, he can only supply brilHant execution.
Finally we must mention the magnificent collection of statuary to be
found in Bohemia. The Charles bridge in Prague is, with statues lining
both parapets, a royal processional way of the Baroque, and we fmd
Bernini, thirty years after his death, inspiring a new school of sculptors.
The earHest of them was Jaeckel. His vigorous inspiration and mastery of
composition are shown in two groups he executed in honour of the
Blessed Virginthe Virgin between St Dominic and St Thomas, and the
Virgin with St Bernard. Everywhere flowers are scattered and cherubs
gambol in the clouds.
Avery varied output came from theworkshop ofthe Brokoffs. Thefather,
Jan
Brokoff, was a Slovakian by birth and the sculptures which he did by
himself, such as the St John Nepomuk of 1623, have a calmness about
them; later on when his two sons were associated with himthe more
talented of them was Ferdinand-Maximihan (1688-173 1)the work be-
comes more gesticulatory, as in the groups of St Ignatius or St Francis
Xavier, which were carved in 1710 and 171 1. These are reminiscent ofthe
decorations by Baciccio and Pozzo in the churches of the Gesu and Sant
Ignazio in Rome. Finally there is the very curious and theatrical scene
called the Trmitaires. It shows prisoners in a tower guarded by a Turk in
fancy-dress
(171 2)
and became as celebrated and beloved in Prague as the
Zouave on the Alma bridge became in Paris.
The masterpiece ofthe bridge is undoubtedly the group of St Luitgarde,
carved by Mathias Braun in 1710
[177].
The 'most beautiful ofthe children
ofman' descends towards the languishing saint and already leans upon her
shoulder. We have already seen how many misunderstandings and how
much nonsense arose about Bernini's Ecstasy
of
St Teresa, when people
accused it of portraying profane rather than sacred love. It was the same
story over again with Braun's work. It is most difficult to analyse the
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
222 almost vineasy feeling which it inspires, for there is no ambiguity here and
Braun has, like his Roman master, banished any trace of carnal sensuahty.
There is a soft yieldingness in the attitude of Christ's body as it ghdes
from the cross and in the lines formed by the arms of St Luitgarde as she
clasps His legs. But, beneath the crushingly heavy crown of thorns, the
Saviour's face, full ofwounds and ofsuffering, is that ofa dying man. The
regularity of feature, the fmely modelled planes of His face still bear the
imprint of His beauty, but the eyes are sunken and the cheeks ravaged.
The sacrifice of the Redemption masks the human beauty of Our Lord.
The face of St Luitgarde is less beautiful, and seems but a weak imitation
of Bernini's St Teresa. Braun obviously had that in mind but lacked the
abihty to equal it. But the animation of the whole body, the ardent and
imploring gesture, the ecstasy and the submission, the general attitude of
caution and respect, are particularly admirable, and of an utterly different
order from the lusts of the flesh. One detail should be noticed. A kiss may
be the first sign oflove, the truest expression offervour and tenderness, yet
to see it exchanged between the Saviour and one ofHis creatures would be
almost sacrilegious. 'Noli me tangere.' Yet still the impalpable idea of the
token of love seems to hover over the mystical scene, and, at the extreme
end of the group, rather in the background, two cherubs do exchange a
kiss, their httle bodies only just showing through a cloud, innocent and
almost immaterial. Braun thus managed to introduce this symbol of
earthly love which the composition needed, and to give it a pure spiritual
significance.
It is through works like these that the late-flowering Bohemian Baroque
can, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, claim a place beside the
ItaHan. We fmd Mathias Braun giving the smile of the angel in Bernini's
ecstasy to the statue ofRehgion trampling underfoot the skeleton of Death
in the terrace decorations at Kuks. He is haunted by Bernini, and behind
Bernini hovers the ghost of Michelangelo. He carved the magnificent
Atlantes which support the balconies of the Clam-GaUas palace in Prague.
But he became so overwhelmed by orders that a whole ateher was kept
busy meeting the demand. The designs of his fertile imagination were
carried out indefatigably and brilliantly by his workmen and apprentices.
When can one begin to talk of Rococo as a style in its own right, akin to
Baroque, but yet distinct from it? In
1938,
for instance, there was an ex-
hibition put on oi^ Baroque in Praguefrom 1600 to 1800, but this great space
of time included art that may have inspired but certainly had not become
Baroque, and stretched on to include works that had ceased to be so. A
contemporary critic, Hans Werner Hegemann, suggests that the transfor-
mation of Baroque into Rococo took place between 1710 and 1740, al-
though he does not overlook the fact that the most prolific and beautiful
Baroque achievements in Central Europe were as late as 1720 to 1730. He
also very justly observes that 'the evolution which led to Rococo was not
0"*^
151 The palaces of the end of the seven-
teenth century show that the Itah-
ans then invited to Vienna brought
greater knowledge and imagination
than their predecessors. Tencala
built the Lobkowitz Palace (above)
aided by Fischer von Erlach
As its facade shows, the University
Church was an austere conception
in the first stvle of the Counter-
Reformation. Pozzo tiirned its in-
terior into a little temple of glor\-
and apotheosis in the st^/le of Rome
152
153
The geniuses of Fischer von Erlach and Hildebrandt complemented each other.
In the Winter Palace, built for Prince Eugene from 1695 ^^ i7-4. they both
worked for the glory of the same epoch
f:./-
MiSmi^^..
154 Fischer von Erlach designed a magnificent grand staircase tor Prince Eugene's
Winter Palace. It is adorned with Atlases and pro\'ided a triumphal way tor
the Prince every time he returned home
zr.
155
The private Chancellery of the Kingdom of Bohemia is one of the fmest
palaces with which Fischer von Erlach embellished the imperial capital of
Austria at the beginning of the eighteenth century
156 Prince Eugene's Summer Palace, the Belvedere, consists of a series of pavilions,
ending in little sharp-ridged corner towers crowned with cupolas. It was built
by Hildebrandt in the first half of the eighteenth century
157
The beautiful decoration of the Imperial Library in Vienna was commissioned
from Fischer von Erlach, who was helped by his son
158
The Karlskirchc, or church of St
Charles Borromeo, was built by
Fischer von Erlach. It is imposing
and well sited in the open space
made by the destruction of the old
fortifications, but it lacks cathedral
proportions. The view on the left
emphasizes the ingenious complex-
ity of the church. The porch on the
ground floor corresponds to one of
the great side-chapels. On the right
is a free-standing tower with an
open porch. Beyond is one of the
two triumphal columns
159
i6o
The elliptical nave of the Karlskirche supports the dome, aiid aroimd it are
large and small chapels. The choir and high altar continue the line ot the nave
in a clearly differentiated structure
i6i
This work by Pcrnioscr, with its striking reminders of Bernini, was created in
honour of Prince Eugene, a Maecenas of imperial art in early seventeenth-
century Vienna. His heroic career bears the stamp of the Baroque world
I62
The fli(âde of the church of Santa Croce, built by Riccardo tor the convent ot
the Cclcstincs m Leccc, was transformed during the Baroque period by Zinibalo
and covered with a profusion of ornamentation
The church of San Mattco, one of
the most picturesque Baroque build-
ings in Lecce, was rebuilt at the be-
ginning of the eighteenth century
by Carducci. The lower part is con-
vex, in comparison with the con-
cave upper part of the fa(;'ade
(above). Confnied in the narrow
streets of the city, the structure is
too crowded to be seen properly
164
RIGHT. On a great spur of rock
overhanging the Danube and pro-
viding a setting of exceptional
beauty stands the Abbey Church of
Melk, built by Prandtauer
163
i6s
l66 The profusion of frescoes and designs by Rottmayer in the vault of Melk Abbey
contributes to an impression of decorative richness
RIGHT. The Library at Melk stands beside the beautiful facade of the abbey
church on the great terrace above the river (above). The subject of Paul
Troger's fresco on the library ceiling (below) is 'Knowledge and virtue bring
man close to God'
Built by Hildebrandt and Dicntzcn-
hofer on a centred plan with pro-
tuberances and corridors, the Church
of Maria Treu nevertheless retains a
certain unity and rehgious feeling
169
The painter Maulpertsch, in the
Venetian tradition ofTiepolo, decor-
ated a great number ofchurches and
chateaux in Austria, Bohemia and
Hungary, in the second half of the
eighteenth century, among them
the church of Heiligenkreuz
170
171
The Abbey ofDurnstein, attributed
to the architectJoseph Munggcnast,
is admirably situated on the banks
of the Danube in the picturesque
Wachau district, where the Abbey's
Baroque tower adds to the beauty
of the landscape
172
The four Fathers ofthe Latin Church
are sculpted on the gateway ot
Durnstein Abbey. This subject, the
most widespread in Counter-Refor-
mation art, is frequently found in
the convent churches of Austria
Hcrzogcnburg Abbey is the only
173
Augustine abbey in Austria to have
continued in use from its founda-
tion in AD 1 1 12 to the present day.
Rebuilding was begun in T714 to
Prandtauer's plans
174
The organ at Herzogenburg, built
between
1749
and
1752 by the
Viennese organ-maker, Josef Henk,
was given a lovely rococo decora-
tion about 1780, in green, gold and
pastel tints
St Nicolas of Mala Strana in Prague-
is nioininiciitally impressive. The
splendid ribbed dome and adjacent
storeyed bell-tower of Dientzen-
hofcr's design create a memorable
effect of strength. The huge, life-
like statuary, dazzling fresco of the
vault and elegant rhythmic design
of the interior (lUiLow), all create
a decor ot graceful magnihccncc
175
'4
Works like this statue of St Luit-
177
garde, sculpted by Braun in 17 10,
show how belatedly, compared
with Itahan achievements, the Bar-
oque came to Boheniia
One (if the best illustrations of" the
transition from liaroque to rococo
is the church of Vierzehnheiligen by
Balthazar Neiunann. It retains the
appearance of a basilica, with straight
walls and a narrow fa(;'ade between
two towers
178
179
BELOW. The interior plan of Vier-
zehnheihgcn is a succession of ellip-
ses, and the central altar (left) adds
a touch ofpure decoration, increas-
ing the rococo effect. The figures on
180 thealtar (right), dehbcratcly elong-
ated and attenuated, are full ofmove-
ment to the point of gesticulation
i
m
'J!^J^.^
-PM
fi.
y
^
F?if
^
^
l8l Using the delicate forms of rococo art to illustrate the themes of penitence and
mercy, the charming pilgrimage church at Wies, Bavaria, remains imbued with
spirituality just as much as the great Baroque works
IMPERIAL BAROQUE
a fundamental change ofstyle, like the change from Gothic to Renaissance: 223
it is not something entirely new, but only a phase within the great epoch
that embraces it'.^'
It would have been surprising had it been otherwise, since general social
conditions had not changed. There had been no new spiritual movement,
nor had the profound economic revolution yet impinged on these coun-
tries. The artists still served the same patronsthe great aristocrats, the
Church, and the country nobihty. They had scarcely any contact with the
middle classes, and indeed the bourgeois had yet to form a distinct class and
still fitted in with the manorial system. The original impetus that had been
generated by the Counter-Reformation and the wars against the Infidel
now had lost some of its urgent appeal, but the new social groups that
were beginning to form showed httle cohesion and were too unclear them-
selves to formulate any new ideals that might call for new forms of art.
Rococo seems essentially but a refinement ofBaroque: the pursuit ofthe
graceful and decorative at the expense of the architectural or monumental
quaUty of the work as a whole. The artists had recourse to such novelties
as ribbons, arabesques or shells for the details, and everywhere there
were curved lines. In many cases, it might be called a conservative art
which aimed at carrying on the work ofBaroque, refurbishing a little here
and there, but not deviating from inherited principles. The artists could
choose freely from the material collected by preceding generationsand
what a storehouse that was, with designs of the French decorators or the
treatises on perspective by Pozzo, where a model could be found for every
fantasy
!
One of the most striking examples of this sUding, as it were, of the
Baroque into Rococo is furnished by the famous pilgrimage church of
VierzehnheiHgen
[178].
Balthasar Neumann was a mature artist at the
height ofhis powers when he began it. For the shell ofthe building he has
maintained the basihcal plan with straight lines, and the two twin towers
are linked by a slender facade. The plan for the interior is in striking con-
trast, with a succession of eUipses which one recognizes again in the pillars
of the nave and the chapels in the choir
[179
& 180]. The prevailing im-
pression is one of an extraordinary animation in the handling of space
caused by this intricate play and counter-play of curves, and the church
with its deep nave seems to be built on a central plan. Already this exces-
sively Baroque work is ready for a piece of decoration that, by exaggerat-
ing the contrasting lines and volumes, seems to give it a hnisliing touch,
though at the same time it makes the whole ensemble more Rococo. Thus
the 'Gnadenaltar', which stands free in the centre of the church, fits in
perfectly with the architectural background. It was added byJohannJakob
Kiichel
(1703-69)
after Neumann's death. It is an essentially ornamental
and almost affected composition that was substituted for earher designs
which were more monumental and more in keeping \\dth the spirit of
Baroque.
Q
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
224 The trends in statuary show something analogous. The sculptors in
Prague received orders from many monasteries and parish churches in the
provinces, and in a study of these Luz Blazicek has shown that there were
two simultaneous movements.^^ One prefers calm and static attitudes,
while in the other the statues gesticulate in a manner so exaggerated that
often any pretence of following the laws of physics or balance is openly
scouted. But both movements are at one in their decision to break with
the pattern set by the preceding generation.
One had either to become a 'pre-Braunite', seeking earher and simpler
modes ofexpression, or choose the exact opposite, using emphatic gesticu-
lation with the effects heightened by distortion of the figure, which deter-
minedly became thinner and more and more elongated.
The images ofthe saints in the niches ofthe walls or on the reredos seem
inspired by some sort ofpassionate frenzy, or on the contrary they congeal
into brightly painted gigantic statues which, strangely enough, make one
think of the figures of the Flemish Renaissance.
However, while the style itself was changing, a blow was going to be
dealt to the social conditions which had sustained the Baroque. The Em-
peror Joseph II, who had been co-regent with his mother since
1764,
was
in no way impious and was not against the social hierarchy. But his general
philosophy, his love of freedom, his interest in the more advanced econ-
omic development of the Western countries, and his admiration for
Frederick II as an enhghtened despot convinced him, and many others as
well, of the injurious effects of the manorial system, with the great estates
belonging to the nobles and to the Church.
His aim was to destroy feudal bonds, put rehgious worship on a new
footing, and by freeing the peasant from personal servitude and unjust
forced labour to create a body of workmen who could be employed in
producing manufactured goods or fill the bureaucratic posts in the civil
service of a modernized and centraHzed state. While his mother still lived
he could do nothing, for Maria Teresa was indeed a Baroque monarch
if by this we mean one who clung to tradition and was fearful of any re-
organization ofthe Church, lest it impaired faith. But once he became sole
sovereign he undertook his reforms boldly. The Edict ofTolerance that he
issued in October 1781, gave new Hfe to the Protestants, and within the
next year their adherents numbered fifty thousand people.
On top of this came a series of ordinances that were designed to re-allot
the dioceses of the bishops and the parish lands morejudiciously, together
with others that severely attacked the monasteries. Measures that had been
already taken against the Jesuits in
1773
were now enforced against the
contemplative orders and the rehgious fraternities.
Much greater sums of money would now be in free circulation, and a
large number of buildings would now be ready to turn into factories.
Now that at last the peasant was freed by the new regulations from his
traditional superstitions, there were to be no processions, except that ofthe
IMPERIAL BAROQUE
Holy Eucharist, no more pilgrimages to Maria ZcU, nor to Bila Hora, nor 225
to Prague in honour of St John Nepomuk; the side altars and the reredos
must go, though the high altar of course remained. The pictures were to
be sold. There should be no more bell-ringing during a storm, no more
dressed-up statues like the Holy Child of Prague in the Carmehte church,
and no more ex-voto offerings of gold or silver. It was a wholesale con-
demnation ofBaroque forms ofdevotion, with all its graceful and childish
excesses. In future a more highly educated clergy, a good servant to the
State, should spread an enlightened faith amongst the faithful, encouraging
them to be reasonable and industrious.
Similar measures were aimed at corporations which had fallen into a rut,
and an impetus given to the manufactory of cotton, textiles, linen and
metals. Commerce was encouraged. Everywhere labourers on the land,
freed from their hereditary yoke, could choose their employment and
wax rich. The order ofthe day was for a hberal capitaHsm to replace feudal
capitaHsm, and it should allow (at least in principle) every individual to
develop his capabihties to the utmost, according to his lights and leanings.
The towns too should henceforward develop their own life and no longer
have to depend for their wealth on orders given to builders or carpenters
by nobles erecting palaces, or priests churches.
It does not concern us here that Joseph II was unable finally to impose
his ideals (forced labour, for instance, was reintroduced after his death and
lasted until the Revolution of 1848) nor that the Danubian countries con-
tinued to show many feudal traits for a long time afterwards. What from
our point of view is important, is the shattering of a whole social system
that had endured for more than two hundred years. The choice had been
taken of another worldone in which abstract reasoning, the calculation
of profits to be gained from manufactories, and the interest in winning a
large market all played their part. Machines were called in to assist or
replace human labour and the ground prepared for the triumph of an in-
dustrial, middle-class civilization which would condemn 'the anachronistic
landed civilization' [la civilisation anachroniqtiefonciere) and all its sentimen-
tal and imaginative quahties that had given such a welcome to Baroque.^^
CHAPTER XI
baroque in Poland
and^^<ussia
There can have scarcely been a more striking contrast than that between
the plains ofwestern Europe where in the seventeenth century the national
boundaries had already been firmly drawn, and the wide open spaces to
the north and east. There one might fmd a few market towns along the
banks of the rivers or where roadsor more probably primitive tracks
intersected. These sparsely populated regions were, by western standards,

an unfmished and half-baked Europe, yet even there there were nations
that had achieved cohesion and were self-conscious enough to impose
authority and their pattern of civihzation. This explains the role that was
played by Poland during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Ever
since the early Middle Ages she has shared the influences that had shaped
Europe, and now that the wave of economic progress reached her, the
new conditions gave her an opportunity to display her vitaHty and power.
She bore the title of Repubhc, and hberty was a word to conjure with; but
in reahty power resided with a mihtary aristocracy which could put a
formidable force of cavalry into the field. They were, however, first and
foremost interested in preserving local privileges against the demands of
the nation as a whole. The elected king was in fact the Minister of War,
though his pohcy, formulated in consultation with his generals, was sure
to draw the whole nation in his wake. In the sixteenth century the popula-
tion may weU have been four miUionbut of these how many were in a
position to have any influence or take decisions? It was a formidable state,
but since every election ofthe king was an occasion ofa fierce clan struggle,
it was also a fragile one.
It is worth noticing that one of the most passionate patriots of this
period, theJesuit Peter Skarga, denounced the shortcomings ofthe poHtical
system, on the grounds that some interests were opposed to, or at least
dissociated from, the State. They took advantage of internal dissension in
Russia, which they had done everytliing to acerbate, to launch aggressive
attacks that brought the Pohsh armies to Smolensk and to Moscow itself.
BAROQUE IN POLAND AND RUSSIA
They even planned to set the PoHsh king or his son on the throne of the 227
Czars.^
Not only were there rifts in the pohtical sphere, but also in the intellec-
tual and religious ones. The cultured found support in the University of
Cracow (wliich was already distinguished for its mathematical learning)
and also in the towns, such as Torum, Lubhn or Cracow, where the
merchant and artisan classes were strong and were in touch with foreign
countriesespecially with Germany, Hungary and Bohemia.
In these centres the philosophy of Erasmus, the doctrines of Luther and
later on of Calvin, or the evangelism of the Bohemian Brethren found
groups predisposed to welcome them and ensure their success. Even the
anti-Trinitarians, who were equally execrated by Protestant and Catholic,
found some favour here. It was, altogether, a multiplicity of sects and a
confusion ofbelief. The growth ofProtestantism outside the towns points
to a division of the aristocracy, for it is scarcely credible that it could
flourish in the countryside without the sanction or encouragement of the
local nobihty. Such had been the pattern throughout Europe, and more
especially in Bohemia and in Hungary. The aristocracy as a whole, how-
ever, helped to maintain the Cathohc faith, because it had been influenced
by Italy, and it was usual for a young nobleman after finishing his studies
at Cracow to go on to the University ofPadua.
King Sigismund Augustus, whose mother was an ItaHan princess, ac-
cepted the decrees of the Council of Trent in which the great Pohsh
humanist. Cardinal Hosius, had played an important part. Thenceforward
a tolerant administration attempted to master a situation full ofcontradic-
tions, and it may well have been due to this tolerance that the Counter-
Reformation was able to develop in Poland. The Jesuits, called in by
Cardinal Hosius, were successful in their mission. They recruited PoHsh
members, kept up close ties with the College in Rome and made provision
in their own colleges for the education of the sons of the nobihty.^
Soon Poland was called the Spain of the North. It is a misleading, or at
least an exaggerated description, since it draws a veil over the unending
rehgious conflicts and the number ofdissenting sects; but it is a true enough
description of the outlook of the majority of the people and of its most
influential leaders.
There was another strong reason why Poland should be looked on as a
bastion ofthe Cathohc faith. Since its union ofthe RepubHc and the Grand
Duchy ofLithuania, many subjects belonged to the Orthodox faith. They
were centred in the provinces chiefly populated by the Ruthenians, who
because of their numbers rather than for any racial difference wished to
remain apart from the Muscovite Russians, and in the region of Kiev,
which was a city of ancient Russian and Ukrainian civilization. We will
return later to the profound character of this Orthodox faith, for even if
a church should pass through a decadent phase, it need in no way impinge
upon the purity of its principles nor the soundness of its teaching. This
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
228 Orthodox faith still submitted to the Patriarch of Constantinople hence-
forward Unpartibus infideliurn. Onthe one hand there were the diminishing
authority of the Patriarchal seat, the general loosening of morals which
allowed bishops of scandalous reputation to be appointed, and, probably
of greater importance than either, the Protestant menace to be considered.
On the other hand there was the increasing activity of the Jesuits, as well
as a genuine revival of CathoHcism in Poland. All this favoured the union
of the two churches. It had been prepared in Rome and was fmally pro-
claimed at Brest-Litovsk in 1596. It did not mean that the whole ofPoland
had become Cathohc again, but it was a great victory for the CathoHc
Reformation, using persuasion only, and but twenty-five years after
Lepanto. It was indisputably a victory, but not so far-reaching a one as it
then appeared. Though the Uniat Church was permitted to keep its Greek
Uturgy, this failed to arouse much enthusiasm amongst the Orthodox or
rally pubhc opinion to them. The Orthodox Church soon pulled itself
together again and in 1632 King Ladislav had to permit it to be reconsti-
tuted. In Kiev too, a new Metropohtan of great energy and steadfast faith
^Peter Mohila, who had been Archimandrite of the Monastery of Caves

was successful in launching a spiritual revival amongst the Orthodox.
The economic changes at the beginning of the sixteenth century were
also of the utmost importance for Poland. They remind one of what was
happening at that date in Bohemia and Hungary. The traditional agrarian
pattern of the Middle Ages, when the land was divided up into small
estates belonging to the knights and in tenures cultivated by the peasants,
was slowly changing. The big landowners became keener than ever to
enlarge their property and the disputes with the village communities over
the use of waste land grew more bitter, when they wished to plough up
grazing or fallow land to grow com.
As the value of the quit-rent and the ancient tenures had depreciated,
the seigneurs demanded instead forced labour on their land. Added to
forced viUein labour, the work of the paid labourers was necessary when
there was an exceptional harvest. Many markets were open to the pro-
ducts of these great domains. By using the Vistula for transport as far as
Danzig, Polish grain could be loaded at that port into boats for Italy, to
make up for the occasional failure of the Mediterranean harvests. More-
over this need for grain was partly the cause of a trek to virgin lands in the
East. These were Lithuania and Ukraine where the more enterprising land-
owners estabhshed large new estates, away from the traditional restrictions
of the provinces.^
But if one asks if this prosperity was widespread, we fmd that, on the
contrary, it was confmed to a privileged and exclusive class. In the country
the old class of landowners became embarrassed financially. In Little
Poland any attempt at expropriation was doggedly and courageously op-
posed by the country nobility, but though they might save their patrimony
they became steadily more impoverished. Amongst the peasantry there
was also an even greater want and distress. At the same time the towns, 229
especially the most ancient ones, either stagnated or dechned: even Cracow
with its considerable foreign colonies showed no progress in its civil archi-
tecture during the seventeenth century.
The fundamental characteristic of the times was the profit which was
only reaped by those big estates that were commercially exploited in the
interest of the great aristocratic families who owned them. Such were the
Radziwills, the Sapiehas, the Lubomirskis or the Leszcynskinames re-
nowned throughout Polish liistory.
So in Poland we fmd that three conditions which had always been
favourable to Baroque were once more in powerful conjunction: Catholi-
cism, participation in the Counter-Reformation, and the increasing wealth
of the great landed aristocracy.
It need hardly be said that the first artists, architects, sculptors and pain-
ters were ItaHan, and as in Bohemia, the Baroque introduced into Poland
was for a long time Itahan Baroque. But Poland too had her own traditions,
great religious memories of the past. There were the patron saints such as
St Edwige. There were sanctuaries that had been venerated for centuries,
for instance Czestochowa in the Palatinate of Kielce, which was re-
nowned throughout Poland for its cult ofthe Blessed Virgin. So Baroque,
when it arrived in Poland, found that it must be able to express traditional
beHefs as well as the reUgious doctrines of Trent.
PoHsh historians divide Baroque there into three chronological stages,
and these, curiously enough, coincide with a steady progression north-
wards, from Cracow to Warsaw, and finally on to Wilno.
The first stage, in the ancient capital of Cracow, is a purely rehgious
Baroque wliich we can study in the city churches. When Baroque reaches
Warsaw, which the king and government made their seat in the seven-
teenth century, we find it serving both the monarch and the Church. It
flourished under the warrior-king, John III Sobieski and his Saxon suc-
cessors, who naturally enough brought with them the artistic fashions of
Dresden, which had much in common with the Imperial Austrian sty4e.
When Baroque eventually reaches Wilno it becomes an aristocratic and
rehgious style, showing a refmement that anticipates Rococo.* Logically
this view is quite correct. Yet by concentrating on the well-known master-
piecessuch as the Wilanow Palace built by Guiseppi Bellotti, which
brought a touch of the Roman Renaissance into the Warsaw region
[184]
the very close connexion, indeed the fusion, of the native Pohsh genius
with the imported Baroque style is apt to be overlooked, since it is most
noticeable in the smaller out-of-the-way churches. Baroque, which should
be studied as an expression of the needs and aspirations ofa whole society,
is by this system reduced to a catalogue of fashions.
In Cracow, where decline set in at the beginning of the seventeenth
century, the churches after the manner ofVignola or della Porta show such
a hankering after Rome, and so faithful a mimicry ofher churches that one
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
230
feels there that the people must have wished that they were worshipping
in the Eternal City. If the plans for the superb church of SS. Peter and Paul
were shown to a connoisseur of Baroque style he might well guess that it
was somewhere near the Corso in Rome, where it would fit in perfectly
between the Gesu and Sant Ignazio
[182]. Yet it is in Cracowbuilt by the
royal architect Jan
Trevano between
1597
and 1619 after designs by Ber-
nardoni. At this time, too, we find the facade of the Ursuline Convent
whose twin towers remind us of the University Church in Vienna, or the
Ursuline Convent there, whichwere ofpractically the same date. The mag-
nificent reredos in the Church of the Immaculate Conception, with its
mighty columns and sUghtly heavy monumental air, shows how Baroque
in Europe lagged behind the new and freer style which Rome had
been given by Maderna and Pietro da Cortona in the middle of the
century.
But the Pohsh nobihty, hke the Bohemian, were not behindhand in
acquiring the taste for building spacious country houses which became the
centres of social hfe. The aristocracy were aware of their new power and
Baroque could celebrate their triumphant mood. Even if we do know
what disastrous pohtical folhes they were to indulge in, this should not
blind us to the contemporary outlookafter Sobieski's victories and after
winning the wars against Russia and Turkey, there was every reason to
beheve that supremacy was permanently assured and every reason to be
proud that they had won it.
One might almost say that the city of Wilno reflected their self-assur-
ance, when it began to evolve a style based on the works ofBorromini and
Guarini or their pupils. Wilno, too, was to have a chequered and strange
history, but in the seventeenth century it was a residential town where the
nobles built their palaces and were very generous in their gifts to the local
churches. The religious orders had gained a strong foothold: the Domini-
cans, the CarmeHte friars and nuns, the Benedictines, Augustines, Jesuits,
and also those Trinitarians who sought to keep the Uniat Church alHed to
Rome by granting the use of Greek ritual. It was also from Wilno that
civilization spread eastwards and exerted an influence on people hke
Ordine-Nascokine, who was in the Czar's entourage. This set was imbued
with the ideals of Latin and Western culture, and wished to bring about a
reconciliation between the two Slav nations which had for so long been
bitterly hostile.^
The Gothic church of St John in Wilno had been restored in a com-
pletely Baroque manner and the high facade with its curves, so light and
so majestic, undoubtedly shows the influence of Borromini or Guarini
[183].
But because a detail of a Polish church may now and then recall
some ItaUan model, it does not explain the underlying reason why such
and such a decoration or plan should have been adopted. It is the result of
the Latin and Orthodox traditions coming up against each other, and the
uneasiness of tliis clash can be felt. If there is a successful outcome it is not
î*
iffA^^
.?S'"
VIII The ta(;-ade oi the church at Tepotzotlan, its walls covered with a contusion ot
tangled tropical climbing plants, is one of the most exaggerated examples ot
Spanish Colonial Baroque
because Italian art has conquered in the East but because it has found some 23
1
way to express local feehng.
M. Weidhaas, in a scholarly and perceptive treatise, has shown how
designs for an oval churchone which is closely related to those of twin
towers and a cupolaspread eastwards. The prototype may be taken as
the Peterskirche in Vienna, but in the west it was scarcely developed at aU.
It was during the eighteenth century that this plan swept through Poland
and even reached as far as Lithuania and the Ukraine.
As M. Weidhaas justly remarks it was chiefly adopted by the wealthy
nobles wanting to found a church: the Konarzewskis used it when they
built a church in 1697
for the Philippines at Gostyn, and so did the
Sangusczys in
1733
when they erected a church at Lubartow near Lublin.
He surmises that it was because of its inherent feeling of power that it be-
came the favourite choice of the great Cathohc magnates. Yet it was
popular in Poland where it was a concept in strange contrast with a
society rent by rehgious and social factions that were constrained by no
central authority.^ This is only a theory, but an attractive one.
It is in any case difficult not to see in the Baroque exuberance adopted
here in the eighteenth century in the churches and palaces of the Ukraine
during its brief period of power, some relation between the decorative
architecture and the social mood. Some have even detected a particular
Mazeppa style of Baroque. But the study of these problems must still
remain superficial, because there is still so much spade-work to be done.
Yet, turning further towards the East, one may well beheve that in Russia
circumstances were now favourable, after many years of evolution, to
welcome Baroque.
In the preface to his remarkable work on Avvakum et les debuts du Raskol
the religious crisis of the seventeenth century in RussiaPierre Pascal

(who, if anyone, can fathom the Russian soul) wrote 'Christianity is one.
In the East and the West, in spite of the absence of contacts, and distance,
ignorance and negation, the ills to be healed are the same, as are the aspira-
tions and the means employed. The closeness between these CathoHcs and
Orthodox ofthe seventeenth century is moving. It exists in details, in their
character, in their expressions, in their customs, in a thousand traits that I
cannot enumerate.''
This Httle known work opens up new vistas of thought and every word .
is weighted with experience, so would it seem impertinent if I asked to be
allowed to recall a small personal experience of my own that seems to
endorse his opinions? It is rather a trivial incident, but one of those which
can sometimes give one a lead in an enquiry. It was in
1955.
With some
foreign colleagues who had come as I had for the celebration ofthe Second
Centenary of the Lomonosov University, I went to see the monastery of
the Troitsa (the Trinity-St Sergius) at Zagorsk, near Moscow. We had
been taken there for a rehgious service in what was called the 'church on
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
232 the door'. It turned out to be a chapel built in the fortified wall ofthe con-
vent, above the door.^ I was suddenly struck by the look of the porch
leading to the sanctuary. It was not very high and was formed by two
twisted columns; garlands of vine were entwined around their whorls,
and it had a very ornate pediment. It was covered by brightly coloured
painting, which was rather clumsily done, but for that very reason it
brought back extremely vividly the reredoses of the seventeenth century
which one can see in western France in Brittany or Anjou. There were the
same decorative elements, the same spirit. This 'church on the door', I was
told later, had been built between 1692 and 1693.
Shortly afterwards I was told by a Russian archaeologist: 'There is much
Baroque in Russia, because it fulfilled the emotional needs of our people.'
Yet how could Baroque, whose ties were with Roman Cathohc doctrine
and social conditions that were pecuhar to Central Europe, penetrate into
Orthodox Russia, where hostihty to Rome was an estabhshed principle?
And what form did it take? It is a vast problem whose importance cannot
be overlooked. It calls for a long and careful study, and here one can only
mention a few facts which may possibly help as guidance.
The first factor of importance is that for a long time Russia had looked
to the West for her artists.^ However, since Central Russia had no quarries
the buildings had to be carried out in wood. This apphed equally to the
izba built by a peasant, to churches and even to the summer palace of the
Emperor at Kolomenskoie, which was still being restored and replanned
in 1667. Naturally the tendency when working in wood was towards
elaborate fantasy and complex patterns rather than symmetrical order.
Bricks, however, were also used to replace stone and as early as the fif-
teenth century the Czars had summoned artists from northern Italy to
build chapels in the Kremlin. They were past masters in brickwork and,
though their work was inspired by Russian models which were greatly
influenced by Byzantium, some touches of Itahan architecture are added.
In one way it is like the transitional period in France, when outwardly
the feudal castles remained unchanged, but foreign workmen were wel-
comed and decorations of arabesques, medallions, elaborate candelabras,
or pilasters and loggias in the Itahan manner became popular. So in the
Kremhn the chapels stih retained the Souzdal type of architecture which
had become traditional since the twelfth centurybut though the square
ground-plan and innumerable cupolas remain unaltered, the facade or
details of decoration may be Itahanate. One example is the vigorous en-
tablature and the shell motifin the Cathedral of the Archangel. If one also
reahzes that the rustic decoration of the Granovitaia palace can also be
found in Bolognaîn the Palazzo Bevilacquait is obvious that there was
no barrier of taste between the Latin and the Orthodox worlds. By the
seventeenth century, Russian artists had for some time been quite famihar
with the Renaissance use of free or engaged columns, or the entablatures
and friezes which held such an appeal for Baroque architects.
A second factor is bound up with Russian history. A terrible crisis, 233
pohtical, economic, social and religious at one and the same time, gripped
Russia from 1605 (or 1601) until 161 3: it was 'The Time of the Troubles'
i^Smutnoe vrcmia).
Russia, with its only sea-board in the north, was largely cut off from the
main commercial currents of the time and they had Uttle effect on her.
When society was reorganized it was still on an agrarian pattern with the
cultivation of the land as the basis of its economy. Here, as elsewhere, the
powers of the great landowners were strengthened and some of the aristo-
crats acquired vast estates and seignorial rights over the peasants. These
serfs were not, as is so often believed in the West, slaves, but the krepostnoi
were liable to the corvee and, though in principle they might claim all the
rights of a Russian citizen, their lot actually depended upon the whim of
the local magnate. They were on the whole an ignorant and superstitious
people, ready to obey, then to rebel, and then to submit again. Then in the
seventeenth century there was a revival ofreligion in Russia, but tliis again
brought trouble in its wake; the strife between the priesthood and the
Empire broke out afresh and there was schism in the Rascol.
During tliis period many new influences penetrated into Russia from
Russian Ukraine, even though these provinces were still under PoHsh
domination and Poland itself was looked upon as the arch enemy and the
representative of the Latin heresy. Nevertheless, when Kiev was restored
to Russia in 1667, the Orthodox clergy there, who had always remained
faithful to the Greek Church, had been considerably influenced by the
Roman Cathohcs, and though tliis had only a sHght effect on matters of
doctrine they had absorbed much of the reUgious feeling of the West.
When we try to settle the limits of Russian Baroque in the seventeenth
century tliere are two pitfalls to be avoided. The first is the 'Orsian' temp-
tation: a temptation to describe this older form of art (which was still
vigorous in the seventeenth century) as Baroque because of its dynamic
force, its intense decoration and wonderful fantasy. It was an art that pro-
duced the pyramidal churches with their corbelling (hokochniky), or a
church such as the one dedicated to Basil the Blessed in the Red Square in
Moscow, with its sumptuous cluster ofcupolas encircling the central pyra-
mid. The second temptation is to describe as Baroque only the art which
was introduced by Peter the Great, wliich I can only mention here but
should be borne in mind.^^ At this time we fmd traces of French Classicism
cheek by jowl with works that derived from the Roman tradition of
Bernini, Borromini or Rainaldi.
The leading spirit of this movement was RastreUi: but it is Baroque in
Russia, not Russian Baroque. No heed is taken of native traditional art.
The palaces are built in an entirely Western manner. Even when the Rus-
sian architect Prince Ouchtomsky designed the tower (or belfry) for the
monastery of the Troitsa, it was, with its succession of loggias, undoubt-
edly Baroque, but it would have been equally at home in either Vienna or
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
234
Prague at any time between 1741 and. 1767. It is a beautiful building, but
there is no mistaking the preference shown for a purely Western style.
Statues now sometimes appear in the balustrades ofpalaces and, though
their use was strictly confmed to civil architecture, it is a surprising innova-
tion and a measure of how things had changed. The Orthodox Church
had forbidden the use even of bas-rehefs lest they might encourage idol-
atry, and so long as the Church was predominant in Russia there was no
question ofstatues being allowed, whether they were ofGod, ofthe saints,
or to commemorate famous men. Opposition to them was so strong that
only the revolutionary fervour ofPeter the Great could overcome it.
On the other hand during the seventeenth century there was a reaction
against the Protestantism which had been introduced into the towns by
German or Swedish merchants and the Russian priests reaHzed the neces-
sity ofa cult ofimages to counteract it. But this must be understood in the
broadest sense of the term. It included not only the paintings of the icons,
but also the decorations that surrounded them, the general style of wor-
ship, in which the emotional appeal of bells, candles, fme vestments,
obeisances, incense and vivid coloursall played their part. There was no
place, then, for an austere plain style: homage was rendered to God with
great ritual that demanded a splendid background. In a peasant society
where Hfe is precarious, where help and even miracles are perpetually
looked for, there is naturally a general love of the wonderful. It is not sur-
prising that a cult of perpetual intercession in which the Virgin or the
saints may be expected to give protection in everyday affairs, where holy
water has efficacy to bless the land and the streams, should satisfy the pro-
found instincts of the people.
Finally, it was a period of changenot of change violent enough to
disrupt society or to formulate any new idealbut one that was receptive
to new ideas, so it is understandable that new and hitherto quite unknown
art forms should become popular. The lower classes were pleased to copy
patterns that they thought pretty, Httle knowing that they came from the
heretical Latins.
The wealthy who could experiment on a large scale felt it daring to
follow a new fashion. At least, these seem to be the reasons why Baroque
managed to estabUsh itselfin Russia before the great changes introduced by
Peter the Great.
Twice, when discussing French reredoses M. Hautecoeur compares them
with the iconostasis of the East^^ and there is undoubtedly an artistic (and
perhaps a liturgical relationship) between them, the reredos and the rood-
screen. In the ancient and traditional Russian form the pictures of saints
were surrounded only by simple gilt mouldings, and it was not until the
seventeenth century that columns of various orders and entablatures are
used to emphasize the iconostasis. Sometimes the columns are grooved and
a decoration of vines fills the spiral. Examples of this can be seen in the
church of the Dormition and round the altar of the Trapeznaia at the
Trinity-St Sergius, and this time it is iconostasis which resembles the
235
Baroque reredos. We fmd them again in the Kroututski monastery in
Moscow
(1694)
where, standing on pedestals and crowned with Corin-
thian capitals, they flank two great arches
[189]. In contrast the windows
on the first storey are framed by deeply sculpted columns with foliage and
flowers for their decoration.
It is true that these are only ornamental details in an architecture which
as a whole is faithful to the Muscovite tradition, yet they bear the stamp
of another style. At Zagorsk we fmd a completely Baroque monument.
This is the Uttle octagonal chapel which is built over a miraculous spring
[185].
Here two orders are usedtwisted columns support the entablature,
and little columns, carved and painted, decorate the windows of the first
storey. It is roofed by a flattened cupola, a drum that supports a second
cupola and a lantern. This httle oratory at the foot ofthe Dormition church
was built at the command ofIvan the Terrible in the imperial and hieratic
style of the KremHn churches. Yet it was designed to be a sanctuary for
the poor, who came here to pray, to drink or anoint themselves with the
holy water of the spring, or to implore some personal favour, and surely
it is striking that for this purpose Baroque forms and ornamentation were
chosen, which had so popular an appeal in the West.
Equally striking is the similarity in some church towers or churches to
Latin Baroque, where the facade is built up from two or perhaps three
storeys of windows, and might well have been designed by Soria or
Vincenzo della Greca. Decoration is restricted to the use of engaged
columns, twisted or straight, and pediments with cusps and volutes; and it is
only the cupolas that disarrange a purely Italian impression (for instance at
Moscow, St Nicholas the Thaumaturge, the Preobrazenskaia 'church on
the door' at the Monastery ofthe Virgins
(1688),
the Dormition Cathedral
at Riazan
(1693-99)
the Trapeznaia tserkov, i.e. the refectory church, at the
Troitsa
[186]).
The Patriarch Nicon, the great reformer of the Church at the time of
Alexis Mikhailovitch
(1645-76)
wished to return to the tradition of
churches with cupolas and aboHsh the more recent pyramidal st)de. How-
ever, when he rebuilt the church of the New Jerusalem at the Monastery
of the Resurrection at Istra (near Moscow) in 1656, he accepted a plan
wliich included a large rotunda. On the outside it was decorated by Corin-
thian pilasters, which separate the tall pedimented windows. It has a
monumentality worthy of Bernini, and yet also finds its place in Russian
architecture.
At the end of the century, then, we see a new st}4e taking shape, and it
had already enjoyed such success that it seemed that it must have a great
future. It became known as Moscow or 'Narychkine' Baroque. Lev
Kyrillovitch Narychkine was the brodier of the Czarina NathaHe, the
second wife of Alexis Mikhailovitch and the mother ot Peter the Great.
He belonged to one of the aristocratic (but not very old) famihes wliich
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
236 had been enriched, by the Romanov Czars, who gave them estates with
many serfs and even factories. Whereas an aristocrat ofancient Uneage was
usually incapable of changing anything inherited from his fathers, these
'semi-new' men were more enterprising. They hked to make a show of
their wealth, and it is not surprising if Lev Kyrillovitch erected at his own
expense the prodigious church ofFih in
1693 [187].
The plan is very simple
a quadrilobe placed round a square church. The eastern lobe houses the
altar, and the other three each open on to a vast terrace that surrounds the
church and leads to a two-winged staircase descending to the ground.
Above the church is an octagonal pavihon, above that yet another, and
fmally an onion-shaped cupola.
This succession ofstoreys, with one prism rising above another, is striking
enough, but the effect is still more heightened by the contrast between the
colour of the bricks and that of the white stones, by carved columns and
pediments, and by the balustrades which look like lace garlands. The
building as a whole is an example of traditional Russian architecture, yet
it bears the marks ofItaHan fashion and one can feel a new, even a Baroque
spirit about it.
The church of Dubrovitsy, with its large tower with loggias and ocuH
soaring above a quadrilobe, is more closely connected with Pohsh Bar-
oque [188].
Its decoration is overloaded and even dares go so far as to have
statues and niches. On another estate belonging to Narychkine is the
church of Troisky-Lykov, which was built between 1698 and
1703 [190].
The fine spring ofits tower, the wide and graceful sweep ofits rotunda, its
plain columns and the curve of its volutes, make it one of the most out-
standing examples of Russian Baroque. Its air of elegance and refinement
is achieved without any artificiahty or affected decorations. It is inherent
in the general structure of the building, where the handling of space and
volume show a mastery and a subtlety that recall the spirit of Borromini.
This Baroque style, so full of fantasy and colour, so remote from any
morbid anxiety, appears to be a diversion or perhaps a song ofhope, when
it is set against the misery and sharp contrasts ofRussian society ofthe time.
It certainly bears the mark of foreign influences, but up to the present we
do not know enough to identify all the foreign architects who were then
active. They gave a new vitaHty to the traditional Russian style, and
managed to hnk their artistic ideals to the native feeling. The 'simple
people', as they were called in Russia, came in their crowds to the oratory
of the Troitsa; the churches of Nicon and of the Boyar Barychkine were
so full that no one could imagine that they had originally been built to
satisfy the lust for ostentation and power of a privileged group.
Ofcourse one might point out that later on the people flocked injust as
great numbers to the churches wliich were built in St Petersburg, yet one
cannot overlook the fact that with Peter the Great there began a new era
in Russian art. His decree that stone should be entirely reserved for build-
ings in his new capital certainly checked the growth of Baroque in Mos-
COW. But in St Petersburg the Western style was imposed solely by the 237
force of his personality and there was no time for historical feeling to
catch up with it. First the French style ofLeblond was adopted, and then it
was succeeded by the half-Italian, half-French style of Rastrelli.
Peter the Great, however, had ultimately condemned Baroque, for the
old social conditions that had fostered it were swept away. The feudal sys-
tem was doomed and in its stead there was imposed (not with complete
success) an entirely different regime. It was Western in outlook and run by
an alien bureaucracy whose first aim was to industriaHze the country and
build up its arsenals and factories.^^
CHAPTER XII
aroque
Undoubtedly the most beautiful works ofthe Baroque are to be found
in Europe, even if the Europeans themselves do not always show much
pride in or appreciation of them. But the oddest, most tortured Baroque
creations, which reach the farthest Hmits of ingenuity and fantasy, have
been tucked away in Spanish America; and there they are neglected as
though they were the dullest things ever to have come from the Old
World.
The colonists themselves must have played a considerable part in these
buildings, of course, but in the present state of our knowledge, it is very
difficult to defme it. The ecclesiastical architecture is much more interesting
and worthy of consideration than the civic buildings, but it is also, as a
field ofstudy, so fuU of subtleties and obscurities which
defy
analysis, that
it is better to begin by considering the general trends which influenced
Latin America.
In the beginning armed conquest was almost simultaneously matched by
missionary effort. The cruel disparity between the ideal of the universal
Christian Church and the means taken to impose it could never have been
greater. Las Casas, the great apostle to the Indians, personally pleaded with
Charles V on behalf of the native population, which was being subjected
summarily to the harshest extremities ofthe law. The conquistadores who
had engaged in this expedition were undoubtedly some of the most auda-
cious men of their age, but also, it seems, they were amongst the most
lacking in traditional values of behaviour. Many of them may have well
been good Catholics, but it was Europe, reaping all the benefits of the
conquest, who paid the piper, and she was steadily becoming more than
ever obsessed with religion. She insisted that tliis must be a conquest in the
name of Christendom. It is not merely by chance that the era of the great
discoveries should be also that of religious reformboth Catholic and
Protestant. It would have been unthinkable that Europeans could discover
a whole new continent without it causing some disquiet in their religious
beliefs. It was disturbing in many ways: people wondered whether the
really primitive societies wliich were sometimes found in the New World
could possibly be admitted to the Faith on the same footing as the com-
munities of white men; they also wondered if, in the highly civihzed
COLONIAL BAROQUE
societies with their rich technical lore and powerful religious cult, the 239
whole inspiration were not to be regarded as something demoniac.
But, wliichever the problem, the salvation of the natives was not an
indifferent matter either to the invaders themselves or to the European
governments in whose names the conquests had been carried out. It was
inevitable that a missionary effort should be inaugurated at once, and the
endeavours to convert the heathen (which had already a long liistory in
Africa and Asia) now also spread to America, where its success was much
more easily acliieved.
The richest territories ofthe New World fell into the hands ofEuropean
societies who already had some experience ofwinning back their Moham-
medan neighbours to the faith and who still hved as though they were
Crusaders. It was also true that every European nation looked upon it as
her duty to implant Christianity in new territories wherever they might
be discovered. Even now a European visitor to New Yorkwhatever his
politics, nationality or religious outlookcannot but be moved when he
reads the inscription (at the corner of Fifth Avenue and 29th West Street)
that marks the site of the first church erected by the Dutch,
European civihzation, homogeneous in spite of all its diversities, is in-
separable from reHgious feehng. The Protestant Reformation, it is true, did
not lend itself to any sumptuous rehgious art, while the Catholic Counter-
Reformation with its rituahsm followed in the steps of the Spaniards and
encouraged display both in the construction and decoration ofits churches.
The result was that in the provinces of the Spanish Empire and along the
coast ofBrazil there was an expansion ofan art, tumultuously overcharged
with decoration, which is nevertheless one ofthe most virile expressions of
the Baroque.
Art historians have an immense task in front of them even to catalogue
the works. It is even more difficult to relate them to the general history of
civilization, to enquire in what measure various trends were transposed
from the Old to the New World, and how or if they were grafted on to
indigenous traditions. Yet even that is a seductively easy way of tackling
the problem, because it hnks Spanish-American Baroque too closely with
two influences, though both these were undeniably very powerful. The
first of these was the existence of an extremely ostentatious and liighly
developed native art that flourishedat least in Mexico and Perubefore
the Spanish conquest. The cathedral in Mexicoone of the most remark-
able monuments to European civihzation in the whole of the New World
rises in all its magnificence on the site where, when the city was the
Atzec Tenochtitlan, there stood the great Temple of the Sun sliining with
gold. The intricate craftsmanship of the Incas or Aztecs and dieir love of
show may lead one to speculate on how sympathetic they may have found
the Baroque religious art of the conquerors.
The second influence was the discovery of great treasure and precious
metalsfor it would surely be the obvious thing to do to divert this
R
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
240 wealth of gold, silver and precious stones, hitherto used to decorate idols,
to the greater glory of the true God and His Church. Indeed was it not
gold leaf from Spanish America that had added such splendour to the
ceiHng of Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome?
But the facts are that the ancient temples had been destroyed by the
conquerors, and any attempt to draw an analogy with European history is
quite misleading. If so many antique works had survived in Europe it is
because Christianity, even while the Roman Empire was still at the height
of its strength, managed to convert Roman society to its Oriental beUefs,
though in the process it became itself to some degree Romanized. The
Empires the Spanish had subdued in America inspired feelings of nothing
but contempt and mistrust. The Spanish destroyed everything, or nearly
everything, and scarcely ever was any native building adapted for the new
reHgion. Christian art was something imposed from without upon a
country where all manifestations of indigenous genius had been ruthlessly
uprooted. Doubtless in the early days some converts amongst the labour-
ing classes may have been employed in the actual execution of one or twô
buildings, but only under Spanish supervision.
In all the territories conquered by Spainwhether in Central America
or in Brazil, whether the conquered people were highly civihzed or still
Hving in prehistoric conditionsthe first buildings erected were purely
utiHtarian. They were simple oratories or chapels put up by monks of the
various orders (Franciscans, Augustines, Dominicans, CarmeHtes or
Jesu-
its) who wished to build something as quickly as possible. They were far
too preoccupied trying to get their first catechumens even to think of
introducing any artistic splendours from Europe: and instead of adapting
and rededicating native art, they began by breaking with it absolutely.
Again, although the close connexion of great stores of gold and the
richness of colonial Baroque is evident and undeniable, it should not be
forgotten that, at a certain epoch, even colonial provinces which were ab-
solutely barren of precious metals used the most elaborate and heavily
gilt ornamentation such as we see in the golden chapels at Bahia, Recife or
Rio de Janeiro, which were built towards the end of the seventeenth cen-
tury. Or we can see the exact opposite happening if we look at the
eighteenth-century churches at, for instance, Minas Geraes in Brazil. Here,
in the very centre ofa rich mining district, there is no ostentatious richness
and the churches have the quaHty of work by Borromini.
In short, the luxury and the lavish use ofsilver or gold in colonial decora-
tion is bound up with the development and exploitation ofEl Dorado, but
they are connected in a very roundabout way. In every case the principles
laid down came from the mother country. If the gold-producing colonies
used gold to enhance the glamour of their churches it was only because in
the first place such a practice had been adopted in the metropoHs and that
later on the pattern was imposed from there on to the colonies. 'If Your
Majesty would be graciously pleased,' Bishop Montufar wrote to PhiUp II,
COLONIAL BAROQUE
'to send us a plan and some competent master, for we have none herc.'^ 241
Such was the rule which dominated the growth ofcolonial architecture up
to the nineteenth century: plans were sent out from Europe.^ It was a rule
that could only be broken when a very simple building was in question or,
at a later date, when a mature colonial society might produce some vigor-
ous artistic personality.
It was the metropolis that recommended to the New World what had
already been tested at home, and even the apparent eclecticism of many
colonial achievements are but an echo ofthe diversity oftaste and tradition
to be found in Europe. In the sixteenth century classical inspiration,
Gothic survivals and traces of Moorish influence may be found contem-
poraneously in the colonies, because they could all be found juxtaposed in
Spain itself.
There is nothing more striking than the splendid arches of the great
doorway of San Cristobal at Merida or of San Juan de Dios at Mexico
City, which recall Alberti's great facade of Sant' Andrea in Mantua. The
first of these works may well be described as rational and classical; the
power and restraint of the second could also claim these qualities were it
not that, in the vast shell-shaped porch, the pilasters which frame the
statues had not been given the form of flamesa feature which adds a
most fantastic and unorthodox note.
In Brazil the earHest buildings carried out by the Jesuit missionaries for
the small Christian communities were simple to the point of bareness, yet
the purity of their lines has great charm.^ The Benedictine monasteries,
such as the one at Rio de Janeiro, adopt the severe style of Classicism and
the cloisters are encircled by heavy pillars of the Tuscan order. The chur-
ches, between square towers crovôied by squat pyramids, have no other
decoration than the lines ofthe stone coursing which frames the porch and
the rectangular windows of the coro.^ The Spanish conquest was still not
quite so self-assured that it could ignore the problem of defence. Colonial
churches were still fortified and this particular monastery of Sao Bento, on
the side overlooking the bay, has a rampart as strong and tliick as any
castle wall.
In proportion as the colonies grew richer, and in the Spanish ones the
exploitation ofthe mines even more intense, parish and monastic churches
and those for the mendicant orders multiplied at such a rate that it became
almost an hysteria. Everywhere Baroque, the predominant style at that
time in Europe, was adopted; one must make a reservation here, for that
did not necessarily mean that the Roman school of Baroque with its
Renaissance and Palladian elements was always the model chosen. Un-
doubtedly some churches such as that of the Jesuits at Quito derive their
ground-plans, facades and cupolas from the Roman tradition. Here twisted
columns reminiscent of Bernini's baldaccliino support a âgorous entabla-
ture on each side of the main porch, and Corinthian pilasters give rhythm
to the whole, which is austerely bare round the side entrances but heavily
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
242
decorated by medallions and floral motifs above. Yet most of the facades
with, their swarming mass of decoration show plainly enough (as
Louis Gillet so justly points out^) that a reredos had been taken as their
model.
It was at this stage that a major factor in the future of colonial Baroque
came into play: the use of the native population not merely as subor-
dinates but as artists with liberty to give free reign to their ideas. In the
Spanish colonies we fmd something similar to what had happened in
Europe, when for many years on end a great army of anonymous crafts-
men embellished the Romanesque and Gothic churches with an extra-
ordinary imaginative facihty. The clergy were content to control them
just enough to see that, in the spirit of the CathoHc Reformation, nothing
should creep in that might be opposed to orthodox doctrine, but if there
was no violation in this respect they did not interfere. Local genius was
fully avenged, and as Juan Contreras de Loyoza has pointed out, the libera-
tion of native art was accomphshed fuUy a century before the first claims
to political independence were heard of.^
In the extravagant achievements ofpre-Columbian art one can see how
the exuberant natural background, the intricate patterns oflush vegetation
with its infinite variation of interweaving lines and arabesques, influenced
the decoration of pottery and the vivid colours of their woven materials.
These influences no doubt still persisted, and rehgious art henceforth could
provide a new outlet for them. One can agree with M. Pal Kelemen when
he says that colonial art falls into two periods: the first when it followed
models imported from Europe, the second when decoration ran riot. In
this second phase the work of Indian or half-caste Christians became in-
creasingly important.'^
Even if the Spanish had from the beginning appreciated the manual
dexterity ofthe native labourers in carrying out the simple tasks they were
given, it must have been surprising to discover all the resources of their
Asiatic taste and exquisite craftmanship.^ Decorative detail in fact became
the most original characteristic of colonial Baroque, whether in the Span-
ish possessions or in Brazil. The first work where the newly revived,
native tradition impinges on the Spanish is without question at Arequipa,
in 1698. In the lovely portal of the Jesuit building, against walls com-
pletely covered with sculptured decoration in rehef, the round columns
stand out, rising from striated pedestals and crowned with very curious
round capitals. One has the feeling that one is looking at some strange,
highly stylized idols.^
But this passion for ornamentation was not confined to architecture.
The sub-tropical or tropical climate is very Hke that ofthe Mediterranean,
though in a heightened manner. We have already pointed out how great
a part this played in some European aspects of Baroque and it is still more
striking when we turn to colonial Baroque. The new communities in
Latin America adopted a rehgion which could often be celebrated in the
COLONIAL BAROQUE
Open air, with splendid processions, pilgrimages, and homage paid to the
243
saintly images that were carried ceremoniously through the streets of
the city, or indeed paid visits to each other in their famous sanctuaries. As
in Europe, Easter was a time for truly popular spectacles. On Ash Wed-
nesday effigies of the saints were paraded through the towns to mark the
beginning of fast. On Palm Sunday, processions celebrated the entry into
Jerusalem, Christ meeting the Blessed Virgin at Calvary, and the carrying
of Christ's body to the tomb. It led, as it had done in Spain, to the develop-
ment of polychrome statuary, and scarcely a town in Latin America is
without its own collection. Some are horribly reahstic. Perhaps the famous
example in the cathedral in Mexico City, where a saint screams in the
agony of martyrdom and ecstasy^^ as his head falls, is not so horrid as the
head of St John the Baptist on a platter full of coagulated blood, the work
of a Peruvian sculptor. One wonders if the tragic religious genius of the
Spanish has not crossed with another even more cruel and whether the
tradition of human holocausts offered up to the pitiless gods has not again
come to hfe. But there are other examples that appear reassuring and also
efficacious in healing; such is the astonishing St Rita of Mexico whose robe
is starred with milagros (ex-voto offerings), no less than 1,640 silver and
70 golden ones.^^
In regions of Mexico (Puebla) and Peru (Arequipa) where the popula-
tion embraced an ever increasing number of half-castes as the Spanish
mixed with the native Indian women, the influence ofthe half-caste on art
is shown by the preponderance of decorative themes which are quite ahen
to the European.
One must also take into account the effects of distance and isolation. In
Europe, Baroque, even when it was welcomed in all its power and glory
and exuberant richness, found itself side by side with other forms and
ideals of beauty. It was contained by its neighbours, and confronted with
what we have described as 'centres of resistance' and patterns of society
that were more eclectic and conformed to other traditions. In the New
World there were none of these checks. Decoration became increasingly
inflated and in the end almost orgiastic. Not everything, however, should
be attributed to native influence. The facade ofthe church at Tepotzotlan,
in Mexico [VIII], and the reredos that cover the walls of the capela-mayor
with a tangle ofHnes like Hanas in a tropical forest
[192],
is one ofthe most
extreme examples of colonial Baroque. It was finished round about 1750.
Placed where it is, one's natural inchnation is to think the local landscape or
native artists have exercised a strong influence. But if one puts this first
impression aside, one recognizes here an accomplished but by no means
isolated example ofchurrigueresque decoration. One has only to compare
the choir at Tepotzotlan with the reredos at Salamanca or Umbrete for
similarities to leap to the eye: the abundance of motifs and the arcliitec-
tural rhythm of the columns, which retain their feeling of soHd verticaHty
and soaring quaUty in spite of all the detailed ornamentation. Also the
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
244
churrigueresque reredoses of Spain are evoked by the use of tall poly-
chrome statuesSt John the Baptist, St Francis Xavier and St Louis Gon-
zagato give the main accents, while a profusion of angels and animated
putti, or the heavier mass of the baldacchinos fill the necessary but subor-
dinate roles.
Compared with this mtense Baroque in Spanish America, Brazil seems
often to be following almost a classical simpHcity, though it had just as
good reasons for welcoming the more elaborate style. The Portuguese and
Spanish shared the same rehgion and both celebrated it in the same way.
One would have said that the evolution in their colonies would have run
paraUel.
There was one fundamental difference. The Spanish conquistadores
drove on into the interior and established their authority over so great an
area that a Spanish Empire was founded. The Portuguese were quite
satisfied to control the coastline by possession of a series of ports which
could keep in touch with each other by sea. The immense hinterland re-
mained unexplored. The Portuguese were also httle given to racial preju-
dice, and when the expanding sugar-cane industry demanded more and
more negro workers, a new element was added to the population. The
slaves had already a sensuous quahty about their devotions, a taste for
images and amulets, and this could easily find satisfaction in the rites and
ceremonies of the new rehgion they were now taught, and they in turn
exercised some influence on it.
Yet it would be truer to say that when we consider the differences in
their artistic development the colonies only reflected the tastes of their
motherlands, which were sometimes quite at variance. Portugal, after the
exuberance of its Manveline period, often showed a predilection for res-
traint and sobriety which Spain never entertained. Most of the Brazihan
churches have facades which, with their rather severe lines, have obviously
been inspired by those Portuguese churches that followed the Itahan taste
of the Cathohc Reformation.
Sao Salvador at Bahia, which used to be the Jesuit college and is now
the cathedral, was brought stone by stone from Europe and is strongly
reminiscent ofthe Roman style though, in the traditional Portuguese man-
ner, two little turrets flank the fine voluted pediment. Only one Brazihan
church is an exceptionthat of the Franciscans in Bahia, which was built
by the Portuguese architect Ribeiro in the years 1703 to 171 o. It is as finely
chased as a coffer, overrun by decorative garlands and curhng tendrils that
cover the whole walls; while acanthus leaves form consoles or capitals
above the four allegorical statues of the rivers of Paradise, which are sur-
rounded and almost swamped by the delirium of motifs. The pediment
with hoUow volutes and counter-volutes brings to mind the beautiful shell
motif of the seminary at Santerem, which has been attributed to Tinoco
the Younger.^^ But on the whole the Brazflian facades are severeor per-
COLONIAL BAROQUE
haps sober is a better word to use since nothing can really appear severe in 245
the miraculous luminosity of that country.
The effect of contrast is even more striking when one leaves the sim-
phcity of the porches and facades at Recife, Bahia, or at Rio de Janeiro
(Sao Bento, Sao Antonio) and enters the churches where the naves open
out before one hke dazzling golden grottoes. During the seventeenth cen-
tury Portugal, like Spain, dehghtcd in furnishing their churches with
carved and gilded woodwork (talila), using it for the arch before the
capela-mor, in the choirs (wliich were usually narrower than the nave since
room had to be made for sacristies and corridors at the side) and for the
decoration of pillars. One important thing to remember is that tahla had
first been used and achieved its supremacy in the northern regions of
Portugal, where previously Roman art had flourished most vigorously.
There the Baroque artists, finding this easily worked material to their
hands, had carved out their own adaptations of the pillars, the mouldings
and the vaulting typical of a Roman porch, and had acliieved some new
and beautiful designs for their reredos.
The fashion spread from the north to the south of the kingdom, and,
as the Portuguese historian Reynaldo dos Santos justly remarks, it is rare
indeed to find any church without one such altar. From the metropohs the
style spread to the colonies, and it constitutes the real glories ofthe Capela
Dourada at Recife, Sao Francisco and the cathedral at Bahia, as well of the
convents of Sao Bento and Sao Antonio at Rio de Janeiro.
In die church of Sao Bento the central nave and the choir are covered
with a tahla carried out in a bold acanthus motif which spills over the
pillars, spans the arches, and even embraces the pulpit. The golden balus-
trade of the galleries above the aisles adds a solemn note amongst all the
whorls and curves of the acanthus. The pillars are panelled and decorated
with statues ofsaintly kings and also those Popes who had become beatified
and whose history was linked with the Benedictine order. The whole
effect is one of magnificence and sohd richness which in no way at all
evokes the frenzy of the churrigueresque.^^ The statues seem so formal in
their hieratic gestures that one would guess the whole design to be much
earher that it actually is. It was, in fact, only in the last tliird of the seven-
teenth century that anyone had thought of decorating the rather austere
Benedictine church, which had been built forty years previously, with a
tahla. The carving had been entrusted to a Portuguese ciitalhador who had
been employed in the monastery before he took orders, Frei Dominigos
da Conceiâo Silva.
It is possible that he was carrying out plans given to him by die late
master of works, Frei Bernardo, who died in 1693. In any case the design
that had been adopted was carried out patiently year after year with, no
concessions to any new tastes that had by then become fasliionable. The
work was ready for gilding in
1734.
Frei Domingos himself did not hve
to see the completion ofhis work, but after his death it was carried on by
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
246 another sculptor called Alexandro Machado Pereira. The whole effect is
strong and virile.
At this time, another monastery, that of St Anthony, had had reredoses
built in the choir and for the two secondary altars on each side. Here,
however, the curves ofthe Roman arches are less robust and the green and
gold paintnot very happily restored about thirty years agoexhale an
atmosphere of rather wan sweetness.
Just
nearby a third monastic church,
that of the Penitents, has an entirely different character, and derives from
another style. The interior has been entirely covered by gilded talha, the
work of two Portuguese artists, Manuel and Xavier de Brito. The whole
of this luxuriousness seems striving rather to please the congregation than
to praise the Lord. It is not that there is too much decoration, but what
there is of it is just elegant frippery. Everything is there: twisted pillars
with a wealth of flowers up the spirals, rocaHles in the style ofJoao V,
churrigueresque garlands, a multitude of cherubim heads, grouped in
threes, above the baldacchinos, while angels, sculpted in the round, kneel
on the capitals of the pillars. The strong curves that hold together the
reredos at Sao Bento are here completely dissolved in a plethora ofmotifs.
The polychrome statues, crowned with haloes that look hke silver man-
tilla combs, are posed in affected attitudes. The High Altar is dominated
by a statue of the Blessed Virgm, and the angehc vision of St Francis is
most theatrically presented in a niche which allows some very clever hght-
ing effects.
Thus, while at Sao Bento the monks still went on carving designs ofthe
last century, the Penitents were making their church look hke something
out of light opera. The al fresco vaulted ceihng was painted by Jose de
OHveira, who had been born in Rio in 1690, and now proved himselfto be
the first Brazilian artist capable ofcomposition on a grand scale. It showed
the Glory of St Francis.
At Sao Bento the iconography was Benedictine. As you enter the church
there are statues of St Gertrude and St Mechtilde, who had been granted
visions of the Infant Christ. Then at the altar are St Benedict and St
Scholasticus. In the chapels of St Anthony and ofthe Penitents the iconog-
raphy is, of course, Franciscan. There is St Anthony himself (his statue has
been promoted to be a colonel and draws an honorary pension), St Yves,
and St Louis of France. In both cases we can see how great a role the cult
ofsaints played in the spread ofBaroque in the colonies, just as it had done
in Europe. Whether in town or village, there was a close bond between
the inhabitants and the patron saint they had adopted.
The heavenly host was more or less granted naturahzation papers for the
colonies. The natives chose St Iphigenia as their especial protectress and
raised funds themselves to build churches that should be under her invoca-
tion. On the whole the saints most popular in the colonics were those
which had been brought in by the missionaries of the Counter-Reforma-
tion when they first introduced Christian services. There were, however.
i82 One would be tempted to place this Church of" St Peter and St Paul in Italy,
but it was in fact built in Cracow, by Beniadoni, and carried to completion by
the royal architect,
Jan Trevano
There seem to be signs of the in-
fluence of Guarini and Borroniini
in the Baroque transformation of St
John's Church in Vilnius which
gave it that lofty, undulating facade,
light and yet majestic
183
The Wilanov Palace, near Warsaw,
built by Bellotti, is a revival of the
Roman Renaissance in Poland 184
i86
The little Chapel on the Fountain
in the Monastery of Trinity St Ser-
gcius is erected over a miraculous
well; like a great bouquet of wild
flowers it expresses the simple faith
of the countryside
185
The Refectory of the Monastery ot
Trinity St Sergcius is a noble seven-
teenth century building with a
square tower continued in a great
hall and gallery. The composite
decoration combines Renaissance
embossments and Baroque pilasters
LEFT. The plan oi the churtli at Fih,
near Moscow, is quadrilobite.
Above the sanctiiar)- is one oct-
agonal pavilion, then another and
an onion dome
189
RIGHT. The so-called Kroutitski
Gatewây in Moscow was built in
1694 by Osipa Startsev
With its soaring tower, varied and
garlanded columns and elegant vol-
utes, the church, of Troitski-Lykov,
near Moscow, is a curious exanaple
of Russian Baroque
190
LEFT. The great tower ofthe church
of Dubrovitsi, near Moscow, with
its loggia and round openings and
springing from a quadrilobite plan,
is close to the Polish Baroque.
Over-elaborate decoration frames
the niches and statues
191
The window of the Church of St John Chrysostom, Jaroslav, 'with its frame
of coloured faience squares ... is hkc a rich tapestry hung on the wall. It is a
remarkable example of Russian decorative art'. (Alpatov, History
of
Russian
Art,
p. 329)
An example of chiirrigueresque
architecture, with its excess of dec-
oration: the Chapel of the Church
of St Jose,
Tepotzotlan, in Mexico
192
A superb frame opedra-sabao cov-
ers the space between the windows
of the fa<âdc of the Church of St
Francis of Assissi, Ouro Prcto,
Brazil. Above it, is another sculp-
tured motif in a large-eye-opening
The little church ot Nossa Sehhora
de Gloria de Outeiro, with its felici-
tous combination ofwhite parquet-
ting and red stone bands and pilas-
ters, rises from a hill above the bay
of Guanabara, Rio dc Janeiro
194
A surprising series ot statues of
prophets, by Aleijadinho, decorates
the staircase and terrace leading to
the Church ot the Bom Jesus de
Matozinhos, Brazil. Here are the
prophets Hosea and Ezekiel
195
COLONIAL BAROQUE
a few who have their origin in an earlier age, and who had been imposed
247
by the mother country. There were St James and St Sebastian, the patron
saint of Rio de Janeiro, who, due to the works of medieval artists, had
acliieved enduring fame. But much the greater number were saints of
modern origin, theJesuit saints: whether it were diosc such as Alexander,^'*
whom the Society looked upon as their patrons, or recent creations, such
as St Peter of Alcantara. The cult of the Infant
Jesus had a great following
in both the Spanish and Portuguese territories. One famous picture, in the
Abbey of Grace at Bahia shows this. It is charming in its simpHcity and
gaucherie: the Infant Jesus is anxiously pressing his fmgcr wliich He has
just pricked on the Crown ofThorns.-^^
Iconography did just as much, or no doubt a great deal more than ser-
mons or theology to establish Cathohcism in the colonies; rehgious Hfe
owed its local characteristics to it in a land where visual and tangible things
carried much more conviction than any intellectual system.
Thus Latin America, whether in the Spanish settlements or in the coastal
fringe controlled by the Portuguese, first linked up with the European
civilization by way of the emotional and spiritual outlook of Baroque,
which could adapt itself to suit the local conditions and way ofhfe in each
colony.
At the beginning of the eighteenth century the discovery of gold mines
and diamond fields completely transformed the whole pattern ofBrazihan
hfe. Until then the people living in such a heavenly chmate were easy
going and content to take things as they came.
But now there was a gold rush ofadventurers and slaves to the interior,
where they hoped to make their fortune overnight. If, indeed, a few large
fortunes were quickly made, the miners who had to puddle, wash, and
sift the precious earth, working hke galley-slaves, soon knew what it was
Hke to endure a misery more terrible and cruel than any a slave suffered in
ufazenda.
The mining camps became straggling villages, and soon grew into
towns. Royal charters granted the status of city to Riberao do Carmo,
which became Mariana, to Vila Rica, that is Ouro Preto, to Nossa Seiihora
da Conceicao de Sahara, which got shortened to its last name, and to Sao
Joao del Rei. And in 1709 a new captaincy was institutedthat of Sao
Paulo and Minas.
This was the birth of a society quite different from anything that Brazil
had so far seen, though it took over and still carried on old class distinc-
tions. Amongst the prospectors a great many monks were to be seen, or at
least men who were dressed up as monks, whose behaviour aroused great
suspicion. The authorities did not find it an easy task to decide whedier it
was the lure of saving soulsand never perhaps had so many miserable
souls been in need of spiritual comfortor the gold that attracted them.
In any case royal commands were issued forbidding the rehgious orders to
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
248 go into the mining districts. They were issued again and again, probably
because at first no one took any notice of them. It might be suspected that
these decrees owed something to the bishops and the secular clergy, who
were always eager to do down their monastic rivals. So the new cities were
allowed only parish churches. Otherwise rehgious associations were not
banned, and it was not long before they became very flourishing. Some
catered for the local aristocracy who had benefited from the new order;
others appealed to the black or mulatto population that was increasing
very rapidly and in the end was to become a power in the land. The place
ofthe rehgious orders, who would normally have undertaken the building
of churches, was taken over by the lay confraternities of the Franciscans
and Carmelites, that of The Rosary, and of Sao Jose, which was the only
one to welcome both blacks and whites. The towns, with open spaces aU
round, could expand without hindrance and in due course the miserable
mud huts of the first settlers were replaced by comfortable houses and
proper roads. These can be seen even today at Ouro Preto or at Sao Joao
del Rei, though now they are enveloped in an uncanny silence. Yet it was
here that those briUiant festivals once took place. One, in particular, became
almost legendary. It was in
1733
at Ouro Preto, when there were celebra-
tions in honour of the Triumph of the Eucharist. The Holy Sacrament
was escorted by an apparently endless and certainly frenzied procession
from the chapel of the Rosary to the parish church 'do Pilar', which had
afterwards to suspend Divine Service for the next two years while repairs
were carried out. In the mining cities no less than in the coastal towns the
most beautiful architecture was rehgious, though in this case the buildings
were not monastic. One fact which has struck historians is that this newly
opened up country welcomed, in the second half of the eighteenth cen-
tury, an architectural style that was completely different from any that had
previously been known in Brazil.
The parish churches were conservative in conception. The ground-plan
was rectangular, and the tradition of corridors and sacristies surrounding
the nave and the capela-tnor persisted. The Fraternities adopted another
style. Elliptical or polygonal plans with curved facades and towers placed
diagonally were favoured; and ingenious, sophisticated designs came to
the fore. Tliis new movement raises one question which is difficult to
answer. The archives, perhaps because some are missing or perhaps because
no one bothered to record dates, leave usat least in the present stage of
researchignorant of which churches were the first to be built. But there
is no doubt that the most remarkable one was St Francis ofAssisi in Ouro
Preto [193].-^ The plan in itself is quite simplea single nave, rather
narrower than one would expect from outside since the capela-mor is sur-
rounded by two corridors, leads to a rectangular sacristy. But in front of
the capela-mor there is a most remarkable rood-screen in stone; the pillars,
set at an angle, are so massive that they contain the stairways to the ambos.
The fa9ade is grandly and richly decorative considered either from a purely
COLONIAL BAROQUE
architectural point of view or on account of the remarkable wealth of its
249
sculpture. The central part is framed, as though it were a porch, by two
liigh Ionic columns wliich, above their entablature, display the two S-
shaped halves of a broken pediment, which respond to each other. This
bow-shaped facade is crowned with volutes and a little console that forms
a base for the cross. At each side ofthe columns the walls slant back to two
round towers which stand recessed and whose cupolas arc surmounted by
small pyramids. Against the wliite background of the walls, the columns,
pilasters, and string coursing that is used to round the doors and surrounds
of the windows, are picked out by the use of a warmer-coloured stone.
The main decoration ofthe facade is a superb piece ofstone carving (the
pedra-sahao) that frames the porch and extends up to the windows of the
first storey. Above, there is another piece of sculpture in a large oculus.
Opinions have been divided about this beautiful work for the last
twenty years. The traditional attribution to Antonio Francisco Lisboa, the
sculptor-architect who died in 18
14,
was almost estabhshed when objec-
tions were raised and probably the most persuasive arguments were those
brought forward by Jose
Mariano Junior. They have not found universal
recognition, and Germain Bazin, in a detailed study of the church, has no
hesitation in attributing the architecture and the decoration to the same
artist.
The actual painting ofthe ceihng over the nave was undoubtedly carried
out by Manoel da Costa Ataide in the early nineteenth century, but at tliat
time Antonio Francisco was still living. The work was carried out in his
style, and perhaps the sketches for it may have been submitted to liim for
approval. The altars in the nave were erected even later, but obviously
followed the designs made by the original architect. 'Even in Italy, where
so many artists were simultaneously architects, painters and sculptors,
there is not one monument like this, which expresses every aspect ofa man
of genius.
'^^
However great one's respect is for those who attribute the building
definitely to Antonio Francisco, one has also to face the fact tliat all the
relevant documents which they rehed upon disappeared about 1914
and
that no original plans of the church still exist. But a clear enough portrait
of Francisco Lisboa emerges from the anecdotes which were collected by
his first biographer, Rodrigo Bretas, a century ago. We see an aihng Httle
boy (Aleijadinlio), son of a Portuguese father and a native mother, w^ho
throughout his hfe had to bear the double disgrace ofbeing a mulatto and
an illegitimate child. His status was so humble that he could never receive
a direct commission nor give his opinion on any project as important as
the building ofa church. He always remained a subordinate, paid by piece-
work, even though he might well have designed the work he was to carry
out. He was a talented sculptor. When he was getting on for tort)% in
1777,
he fell ill of that terrible disease, leprosy, wliich began to rot away
his hands. From year to year it increased its hold until only the stumps were
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
250 left. But he bound his chisel on to these and still went on working. Suffer-
ing seemed only to intensify his energy and his inspiration, for it was in
this crippled state that he carried out those surprising statues of the
prophets we see on the terrace of the miners' church in Congonhas do
Campo. He died in poverty at the age of eighty-four, stricken by bhnd-
ness. But at least in his last years he was cared for by his son and his
daughter-in-law, Joana Lopez.
According to the death certificate, which is still preserved in Ouro
Preto, Antonio Francisco Lisboa died a bachelor aged seventy-six (not
eighty-four). It seems that his son was, Hke himself, illegitimate, but he had
not inherited his father's gifts and never became more than an artisan. His
son's wifeJoana Lopez, a woman ofthe people and quite uneducated, was still
Hving when Rodrigo Bretas was collecting material for his biography. She
told him stories about tilings which she could hardly have known of at
first hand, and Jose Mariano junior, who doubts her testimony, has also
discovered some receipts dated 1796
signed by Aleijadinho in a crude but
firm handwriting which could scarcely be that of a man who had lost all
his fingers.
On the paternal side Aleijadinho came from a family that hovered be-
tween the status of artisan and artist. His father Manoel Francisco Lisboa
had worked on the churches being built in the mining district. But in
what capacity, as an architect or as a decorator? The answer remains vague.
Some attribute to him the Carmo church at Ouro Preto, wliile others
think him only a foreman who had been chosen, as was often the case,
from those experienced masons who had great technical but no creative
talent.
One thing however is certain, that Aleijadinho was a sculptor and a
gifted one. He was employed as an expert [louvrado) to inspect the building
of several churches (the Carmo of Ouro Preto, the Carmo of Sahara, the
parochial church ofMorro Grande, and eventually the magnificent church
of Sao Francisco) but only once is he described as an architect, by the vicar
of the Indian parish of Sao Manoel de Pomba, where he measured up the
plans of the church. On the other hand there is proof that he was asked to
provide a new main doorway for Sao Francisco in
1774.
At the height of
his powers he carved the pedra-sabao whose beautiful and free motifdomi-
nates the decoration of the facade. Probably it was only shortly afterwards
that he picked up his dreadful disease, but he worked on to produce the
statues at Congonhas, perhaps executing them himself or employing assis-
tants who worked from his designs or under his instructions. His was in-
deed a tragic state, but it is difficult to verify any details; his passion for his
art and the quahty of liis work both contribute to his almost legendary
fame, yet in our present state ofknowledge his role as an arcliitect is, to say
the least, still questionable.
It is also equally difficult, one can even say impossible, to find out who
built the new miners' churches. Perhaps the fact that the monastic orders
COLONIAL BAROQUE
were banned allowed die break with a set traditionthough this is to state 251
tilings too stronglybut at least the break widi certain ways of building
that had almost become habitual with them. The greatest hindrance to any
investigation is the air of mystery which surrounds the actual dates when
the buildings were erected. Take, for example, the Church of the Rosary
in Ouro Preto: was it one of the most beautiful of the early churches
which would mean that it had been begun about 1750or does it date
from thirty-four years later, when Manuel Francisco of Araujo was paid
ten oitavas for designs for the gables and front elevation
;^^
The plan com-
prises a convex fore-part, with three porches and two round towers set
back. The elliptical nave opens on to the capela-mor; this also is elliptical,
though on a smaller scale, and the corridors on either side lead to a rec-
tangular sacristy. There is obviously a similarity to the church of Sao
Pedro of Mariana. And, in a less obvious way, it recalls two small carioque
churches: Nossa Seiihora da Gloria at Outeiro
[194]
and Sao Pedro dos
Clerigos. The first of these consists of two juxtaposed polygons: a hexa-
gonal nave, a capela-mor surrounded by polygonal corridors and the
sacristy at the end. In front a little porch and campanile form a very simple
elevation. The panelled walls repeat the articulation and the entablature is
decorated with small pyramids, but it is the campanile with its cupola that
dominates the design. This little church, standing on a hill above the bay
of Guanabara, with the whiteness of its rough-cast walls enhanced by the
reddish stone of the string coursing and pilasters, forms a harmonious
bmlding, which seems to gain by contrast with the skyscrapers rising
round the shores of the bay and to have become more and more a small
jewel that stands for another age and another civihzation.
The church of Sao Pedros dos Clerigosone of the confraternity of
secular clerkswas unfortunately built in the centre of the old tov^m, for
in 1942 Vargas found it an obstruction and quite ruthlessly destroyed it.
The plan consisted ofthree apses which embraced the nave, a rectangular
capela-mor, surrounded by corridors and sacristies. The charm ofthe facade
remains unforgettablethe beautiful central curve which swept back to
join the two rounded towers, and the two projecting cornices, one in the
centre of the building and the second just below the roof. The main door
and the two doors beneath the towers were surmounted by fme broken
pediments.
These two churches and those of Minas Geraes contrast very strongly
with the taste of the previous generation for the monumental, and if one
has to put a label on such things it is not surprising that they have been
labelled Rococo.
If one questions this appellation it is not because one ignores or behttles
details in the ornamentation wliich are pure rocaille, sometliing that
Baroque never knew, and which belonged to a later age. But surely the
plans and the elevations together show a mastery of the cur\'ed hue, that
tendency to choose an eUiptical, polygonal or circular ground-plan which
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
252 must surely remind one of traditional Baroque, or Baroque as it was in-
terpreted by Borromini? And is not the impression given by an eUiptical
nave joining up with the capela-mor a reinterpretation of what the Vene-
tians and the Viennese achieved when they began to plan their churches
more for surprising effects of perspective than in conformity to architec-
tural logic? These churches of Minas Geraes seem related to those of Salz-
burg. Or indeed, though with a time lapse of more than a century, one
might say that Borromini's style had an Indian summer in these remote
colonies; it was not so classical or so monumental a Baroque as that of
Bernini, but none the less Romanand one which cannot be dismissed as
an effeminate deviation.
On the other hand it is very difficult to beHeve that this style, which
strikes one immediately as being completely mature, could have evolved
from the earHer Brazilian traditiona tradition that was by no means
exhausted and vigorously held its own for many years to come.^^ It would
be unwise to overlook the narrow pattern of coloniahsm at this date.
Brazil was strictly dependent on Portugal and, until we have further facts
to go on, the consensus of opinion would admit that the churches which
were most markedly in the style of Borromini, such as the Rosary, Sao
Francisco in Ouro Preto or the two carioque churches, came from Portugal.
They were said to have fallen from Heaven like meteorites, a remark that
might indicate that the colony was not docHe about adopting plans made
for them in the mother country.
One must also remember that after ItaHan artists (or others who had
served their apprenticeship in Rome) had come to Portugal, and after the
lovely creations of Mafra, the whole kingdom was permeated by a taste
for Baroque in the style of Borromini.
^^
Tliis fashion, when it reached Brazil, inspired these very striking works
especially in the new mining towns which artistically had no background.
It was essential that if they had to appeal to the pubHc, and an uneducated
pubhc, they must not be too daring. There was no question of breaking
with traditional rehgious forms. Gilded altars surrounded by masses of
flowers and candles and richly-clad statues with a mass ofex-voto offerings
or jewels were as popular as the sacristies behind the altar, which would
probably be adorned with brightly-coloured azulejos tiles. These things
might be novelties, but they made no break with the traditional Baroque
of the colony.
It is against this background that the sculpture of Aleijadinho attains its
fuU significance, not only in Brazil but in the history ofart. A native, with
the mixed blood of the invaders and the native Africans in liis veins, had
managed to express a quaUty that is the most striking and unique feature
of Brazilian society.
His most moving work is imaginative and pious, and reflects the local
feelings of his country. He was able to caU upon aU the technical skill of
European studios and combine it with an individual imagination and taste.
COLONIAL BAROQUE
His designs are so charming and vigorous that wc can say that he was the 253
firstor one of the firstartists whose talent for decoration rivalled the
European masters.
The commission given him for a row ofstatues for a pilgrimage church,
shows how great liis technical skill was, and how fertile his imagination.
He produced the prophets wliich flank the stairs leading up to the church of
BomJesus de Matozinhos at Congonhas do Campo
[195].
Putting aside the
first impression and the emotional appeal these figures can exercise, it is
worth wliile examining them carefully. The twelve statues constitute a
work of art that has been inspired by one idea. But the prophets have
nothing about them that would encourage, like a patron saint, familiarity;
they are not, one feels, easily accessible, nor have they been modelled after
any ideaUstic form of beauty. The artist has envisaged them quite other-
wise. Most of them are strikingly clothed in oriental robes and turbans.
One is throwing liis head back in the throes ofecstasy ; others serenely smile;
one spreads out his hands in welcome; another points to the Heavens as
though he were invoking lightning and thunder, and there is one who
studies some scroll which he has unrolled and is pointing to a particular
sentence. Yet, individual as they all may be, they are complementary and
the whole composition is quite unique. Any pilgrim who cHmbs those
steep stairs can scarcely avoid, as it were, talking to these figures, who guard
the entrance to the church and from whom there is no escape.
But, individually, the differences between the statues are very great.
Many look benign: many, on the contrary, have their eyes starting out of
their heads and their noses looked pinched. Some wear becoming and
elegant garments; others are practically clothed in ragsand the symbols,
when it comes to a Hon for Daniel or a whale for Jonah are very crudely
done. Yet if one ignores the work as a whole and looks at every statue on
its own, we are faced with this problem. Was it the work ofone man, who
as he grew older became more sophisticated; or was it work taken on in
haste and carried out by the apprentices of some studio?
These questions may perhaps be answered in time. But there is no deny-
ing the feeling that this is a work of art complete in itself, and a landmark
in social history. Here one is face to face with Baroque inspiration earned
out by a half-caste, between 1780 and 1810; a proof, if ever there was one,
ofthe vitality ofthe rehgious and artistic ideals w^hich had arisen in Europe
during the sixteenth century. We see how after more than two hundred
and fifty years someone could, in spite of a completely different chmate
and background, reinterpret it. Baroque had shown that it was worldwide
in its appeal; let those who wish to write it off as a caprice of decadent
artists or, at the best, a petty offspring ofa limited sect say what they hke.
One should remember too that, in this case, people who only knew of
Europe by hearsay looked upon European traditions and idealseven on
technical skillas victimization, and this prejudice had to be overcome.
Aleijandinho's last years coincided with the first moves for indepen-
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
254
dence. It is worth noting, however, that reHgionfirst introduced by the
monks who were with the conquerors^had by this time become such an
integral part of colonial society that Brazihans remained faithful until the
final break with Portugal. No one can doubt that the revolutionaries were
inspired by a European anti-clerical ideology; nor can one deny that some
of the new South American nations reacted violently against the Church
and became the scene of rehgious wars. But the reasons were local, and it
was never because Catholicism itself was identified with the mother coun-
try. The Church had taken root in Latin America. It still retains its power,
and in Brazil we fmd perhaps one of the most curious results of Baroque.
Qonclusion
We owe many things to Baroque art, which was largely inspired by
Correggio and Michelangelo: the Rome of Bernini and Borromini, some
aspects ofVersailles (and superb fetes like that of /'//e Enchantee which was
given there), and the churches of Fischer von Erlach and Dicntzenhofcr,
so it is surely unworthy to dismiss it as decadent or as a deviation from the
Renaissance. It is truer to say that it was a derivation from the Renaissance,
adapting its lessons to express a new ideal in a society that had radically
changed.
The Renaissance in fact had only spoken of beauty, of nature and how
to conquer it, and the benefits and progress that might be expected if
humanity were wise and reasonable. It did not raise hopes of eternity nor
promise everlasting glory to the poor to compensate for their earthly lot.
This hmitation of its message partly explains why the rehgious crisis came
to a head, leading both to the birth of Protestantism and to the efforts of
the Cathohc Church to reorganize itself at the Council ofTrent. Baroque,
the child ofthe Renaissance, became the interpreter ofthe Cathohc Church
and, since even today we are still divided on religious questions, this close
aUiance has had its disadvantages. It was identified too with the pohtical
and social pattern that began to take shape in the sixteenth century and
triumphed in the seventeenth, which also called forth no less fervent sup-
port and bitter opposition.
On the one hand we find Baroque as the fashion in court circles, on the
other hand it was the art favoured by the landed gentry and peasantry.
When succeeding generations failed to understand what Baroque was
trying to say, one cannot but recognize that it was largely due to its in-
timate association with institutions that by then had passed away. Or one
could even say with equal truth that by appealing to imagination and
sensibihty, by seeking to arouse emotion rather than satisfy' logic or reason,
it became the servant of obscure and nebulous human feehngs wliich do
not favour progress. It is no doubt because of tliis that Baroque in general
has been written off rather muddle-headedly as a feeble, effeminate style
and apt to run riot, so that Classicism arises as a reaction.
If we develop our thesis we see that Baroque, wliich was at the same
time monarchic, aristocratic, rehgious and attached to the land (using this
s
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
256 term in its widest sense; one had almost been tempted to say 'landowning'
instead), managed to take root in some parts of Europe but not in others.
It spread widely in countries where there was a hierarchical society that
based its whole structure on the labour of peasants who were expected to
be docile and resigned. Although Baroque at its most ostentatious and
magnificent could add briUiance to an absolute monarchy, it is a fact that
the most powerful absolute monarchy of all chose the classical style
though the classical was not unalloyed with traces of Baroque. Its success
there was due to the presence of a large middle class, both critical and able
to take an interest in abstract reasoning, which found satisfaction in Car-
tesian philosophy with its desire for universal values superior to ephemeral
contingencies. Baroque also found Httle favour in the Protestant countries,
where a commercial economy encouraged calculation and the study of
mathematics led to a different mental outlook, quite apart from the fact of
the difference in reHgion. It is also noteworthy that Baroque was accepted
with enthusiasm in societies that were largely dependent on the sovereign,
such as Russia after 'The Troubles', or the colonies of Latin America.
When one sovereign resolved to change tliis form of society by trans-
forming the peasant virtually into a bourgeois and trying to interest the
great landowners in industrial enterprises and the Hfe of a modern State,
we fmd a partial decline ofBaroque. Speaking even more generally, tech-
nical and scientific progress turned away from the plastic arts where sen-
timent and imagery had played so great a part. The philosophical thought
of the eighteenth century also contributed to the reaction against senti-
ment, or rather the exaggeration of sentiment in Baroque, and it is not at
aU surprising that it is associated with the return of classical forms to
favour.
In short, Baroque, which had spread over part of Europe during the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, had been the expression of the con-
temporary rehgious, social and poHtical order. It was only to be expected
that Baroque should share its decline. Because of that one can perhaps
better understand why it has been so harshly condemned. Since whole
generations could fmd nothing to say in favour of the ideal it sought to
convey, they rejected it together with the system. They considered
Baroque art only as grimacing, contorted and a bag of tricks.
There was still another thing. ReHgion itselfis greater and more durable
than its expression, which uses the modes of thought and feehng and the
forms of taste that are current at a particular place and time. So it is quite
true that Baroque cannot claim to be the expression of CathoHcism or
CathoHc art to the exclusion of other forms, and it is perfectly right and
proper that CathoHcs refuse to accord it any special standing. But it is
wrong to beheve that it sought to deceive men of a certain period and in-
cautiously gave its blessing to the vanity of the few who Hved at the
expense of the many. What epoch in social history is free of injustice?
Baroque is not responsible for the pohtical or social errors of its patrons.
CONCLUSION
It is in any case false to say that it only exalted wealth and power, and was 257
indifferent to the common folk or did not seek to understand and reheve
their miseries.
Baroque was sincere in its enthusiasms and faith, exalting the imagina-
tion and preserving ideals and inventiveness from the danger of too strict
formahty, for even Classicism could obscure people's vision and lead to the
petrifaction of social forms. Baroque knew how to capture spiritual and
emotional forces, which have a vahdity independent of the historical hap-
penings in seventeenth-century Europe. It is because they have recognized
this that some people ofour time have given their support to Baroque art.
Others have even gone so far as to look for it everywhere and to establish
an everlasting Baroque.
In this essay we have determined only to follow up a line that is suf-
ficiently clear. But it is true that the Baroque of modern Europe affords
generous forces, wliich are rewarding for those who can sympatliize with
and analyse them. They can still satisfy our senses and our hearts and, far
from stultifying our spiritual demands, can reanimate them.
The historian's task is to disperse prejudice, to endeavour to place cor-
rectly the part which one order played in history, and to disentangle the
message that it held for its contemporaries, but by doing this he may
possibly also arouse a sympathy and enable a new voice to sound, one that
appeared to be dead or to be speaking in an unknown tongue.
!?{oJes
CHAPTER I
*
Today we think of Leonardo da Vinci
as the pioneer of scientific method founded
on exact observation and mathematical
reasoning, rejecting the principle of autho-
rity in matters ofknowledge. Largely owing
to da Vinci, a civilization based on hearsay,
receiving its learning from the words of the
master, was supplanted by one based on the
eye, 'where sight seems to take the first place
... in the incredible attention given to detail
. . . visus replaces and supplants aHditus\ (A.
Koyrc, Leonard de Vinci et Vexperience scienti-
fique
au XVI^ siecle,
p. 244,
Communica-
tions du Colloque international du Centre
National de la recherche scientifique, 4th-
7th July, 1952.)
^
Romain Rolland, Michel-Ange,
p.
49
(coll. Les Maitres Anciens,
1905).
'
Marcel Reymond is among those who
consider that there was a change in the
source of Michelangelo's inspiration after
the events of 1 527 and 1530. {vide De Michel-
Ange ^ Tiepolo,
p. 44;
and his article Uarchi-
tecture des toinbeaux des Medicis, Gazette des
Beaux-Arts, 1908.)
*
Michelangelo did not Uve to see the
completion of the cupola. At the time of his
death the drum only was in course of con-
struction. A fresco in the Vatican library
(Munoz, Roma barocca,
p. 2) shows the
exterior of the basiUca and the drum still
open to the sky at the accession of Sixtus V,
twenty years later. The existing cupola is the
work of Giacomo deUa Porta, who wished
it to be more slender than Michelangelo had
intended. Marcel Reymond considers that
'Michelangelo would not have made it as
beautiful. In his hands it would have re-
mained heavier, more massive' {De Michel-
Ange ^ Tiepolo, p. 48).
Letarouilly, La basi-
lique Saint-Pierre (English edition Richard-
son, 1953),
fig
39,
shows Michelangelo's
design after an engraving by Duperac
(1569).
*
It is in searching to give the Baroque
the most noble ancestry that
J.
Strzygowski
discerned as its forerunners Leonardo da
Vinci and Raphael himself. He suggests that
Raphael's change of style towards the end of
his life marked the transition from Renais-
sance to Baroque, Das Werden des Barocks
bei Rapliael und Corregio (Strasbourg,
1898),
p.
81. Strzygowski appreciated the differ-
ences between Raphael and Correggio:
indeed they are obvious. But the disadvan-
tage of his point of view, in my opinion, is
that it tends to confuse the whole concept
of the Renaissance. The danger of denigra-
ting the Renaissance, by assigning its real
attributes to Baroque, is emphasized by F.
Braudel, La Mediterranee au temps de Philippe
n,
pp.
606 et seq. He refers principally to
the study of G. Schnurer, Katholische Kirche
und Kiiltur in der Barockzeit
(1937).
'
Andre Chastel, L'Art italien, Volume 11,
pp.
64 et seq, applies the word 'Mannerism'
to sixteenth-century ItaUan art, between
fifteenth-century Renaissance and Baroque.
The author throws light on many aspects of
this period, but there are certain dangers in
using the term 'Mannerism' if it is stretched
to mean more dian the evolution of the
Renaissance.
'
For dctaOs see Marcel Reymond, De
Michel-Ange ^ Tiepolo,
p. 49,
and G. Maury
et Percheron, Itineraires romains. For a general
discussion of the building of Rome see
Vhistoire de Vurbanisme by P. Lavedan and
the thesis by
J.
Delumeau.
^
This is the title given to the volume in
the collection Peuples et Civilisations, by H.
Hauser
(1932).
*
F. Braudel, op. cit., p. 503.
^^
Henri Lapeyre, Unefamille de marchandSy
les Ruiz (Paris,
1953), p. 53-
^*
There is a considerable bibliography on
this subject, including the follo\îng major
works by French historians: Marc Bloch,
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
260
^^^ caracteres originaux de I'histoire nirale
franâise.
G. Roupnel, La ville et la compagne au XVW
sihle (2nd edition,
1955),
rather than the
same author's Histoire de la campagne fratiâise,
in which the question with which we are
concerned here is only touched upon.
Many observations in Braudel, op. cit.,
pp.
619 et seq (with references).
J.
Delumeau's thesis. La vie economiqne et
sociale a Rome dans la seconde inoitie du XVI^
siecle, particularly Chapter II of the second
part, from which many examples have been
taken.
J.
Delumeau observes that most of
the cardinals' revenues came from landed
property and that the great nobles also drew
their income from the land. He reminds us
that Michelangelo preferred landed pro-
perty to other investments.
For Central Europe, Josef Pekaf, in his ad-
mirable study Kniha Kosti {The book
of
Kost) throws light on this evolution. (Kost
is a province of northern Bohemia); Kamil
Krofta, Pfehled dejin selskeho stavu v Cechach
a na Morave (History of the Peasants in
Bohemia and Moravia) (Prague,
1919); a
recent article by Alois Mika, Les grands
domaines de la Boheine du Sud du XIV' siecle
au XVIII^ siecle (Sbornik Historicky, Recueil
historique,
1952).
For Russia: G. Grekov, Krest'iane na Rusi
(The Peasants in Russia) (Moscow, 1949-
1952);
V. B. El'iachevitch, Istoriia prava
pozemeVnoi sohstvennosti v Rossii (History of
the Law of Landed Property in Russia)
(Paris,
1951).
For Poland:
J.
Rutkowski, Histoire econo-
mique de la Pologne avant les partages (Paris,
1927).
^^
M. P. Moisy has kindly given me per-
mission to quote this remark from his un-
published thesis.
^^
Single nave: San Marcello, rebuilt after
the fire of 15 19. The Baroque facjade is by
Carlo Fontana (1683). Side-chapels between
the pillars in churches with three aisles:
Sant Agostino, built between
1479
and
1483,
and Saint-Louis-des-Fran(;ais, built between
1518 and 1589.
^*
A detailed study of the influence of the
Gesu will be found in the work of M. P.
Moisy. In his opinion many of the churches
built by the French Jesuits during the seven-
teenth century adopted the single nave with
side-chapels under the influence of the Gesu,
but they differed from the Roman church
in that alternating pillars and arches were
abandoned.
^^
We shall return later to the history of
this building. The facade, very different from
that of Ciacoma della Porta, is the work of
P. Derand.
^'
These instructions of Father Mercurian
will be published in the work of M. P.
Moisy, who has translated them from the
original.
See also Duhr, Geschichte der Jesuiten in den
Ldndern deutscher Zunge, Volume I,
p. 606,
and P. Pirri, Giotânni Tristano e i primordi
della architettura gcsuitica (Rome, Institutum
historicum,
SJ 1955), p. 41.
^'
For the whole of this question see: P.
Lavedan, Histoire de Fart.
Les temps modernes

(CUo) (good bibhography); Pietro Pirri,
SJ,
op. cit.; the impublished thesis of P.
Moisy, Les eglises des Jesuites de Vassistance
de France.
CHAPTER II
^
This facade is often wrongly attributed
to Algarde, on the assumption that it dates
from 1685. Father Pirri has kindly made
available to me his notes on this church. It
was begun in 1650, when the facade and the
outer walls were completed. A temporary
wâll was placed at the height of the arch
which supports the cupola. After the death
of Father Grassi in 1654 the work was inter-
rupted between 1658 and 1684. It was begun
again with the construction of the High
Altar and the general decoration of the
church by Pozzo, author of the celebrated
Triumph of St Ignatius, which decorates the
ceihng. See also: P. Carlo BricareUi, // P.
Orazio Grassi, architctto della Chiesa di St
Ignazio di Roma (Civilta Cattolica,
1922,
Volume II,
pp.
13-25).
^
St Peter's is of course the Cathedral
church of the diocese of Rome, of which
the Pope is bishop. But as the Pope is also
the priest of the whole world, the basilica
built on the relics of the first of the Apostles
is in a way the most important church in
Christendom. For the architecture of St
Peter's in general, see the work of Leta-
rouilly.
^
L. Hautecoeur, Mystique et architecture,
symbolisme du cercle et de la coupole
(1954),
p. 275,
recalls that for Nicolas de Cues God
is 'sphera infmita, cujus centrum est ubique,
circumferentia nullibi' and that for the
theoreticians (Bramante, Leonard, Serlio,
and Philibert de I'Orme) the cupola repre-
sents the image of the world and symboUzes
the infmity of God.
*
It is curious to observe the cardinals'
interest in the secular decoration of their
lodgings and their liking for mythological
subjects. The two Aurora were ordered by
two successive cardinal-nephews: the one
from Guido by Cardinal Scipio Borghese,
nephew of Paul V, and the other from
Guercino by Cardinal Ludovisi, nephew of
Gregory XV, not without the intention of
surpassing the first.
^
Poussin said that it was one of the three
most beautiful pictures in Rome.
'
On Caravaggio see a work (in the press)
by R. Juhan; Le Caravage a Naples (Revue
des Arts,
1955);
W. Friedlander, Caravaggio
Studies
(1955);
Andre Chastel, Le probleme
du Caravage (Critique, November,
1956).
'
The expression comes from Andre
Perate, Histoire de Fart, Volume V, p. 634.
*Jean Delumeau, op. cit., explains this
picture, after having studied the life of pil-
grims in Rome. This work of Caravaggio
adorns an altar in the church of Sant Agos-
tino.
*
There has been much discussion about
this triumphant style (see the article. La
signification du Baroque, by P. Regamey (La
Maison-Dieu, Number
26) ),
but it must
be admitted that it was justified by many
events. People could easily beUeve in a rela-
tively early conversion ofJapan and China.
Missionaries were breaking into black
Africa. See Antonio Munoz, op. cit.,
p. 69,
for an account of the conversion of Alvaro,
a king from Congo, and of the mission
which he sent to the Pope in 1607. Most of
the travellers died on the way, victims of
the climate. One only, Antonio, reached
Rome, where Paul V made him a marquis,
but he too died three days later. The Pope
had him buried in Santa Maria Maggiore.
The tomb was embellished with a bust of
Antonio by the sculptor Francesco Caporale,
who used black marble for the negro's skin
and white marble to represent the eyes.
CHAPTER III
1
Chantelou, Journal du voyage du cavalier
Bernin,
p. 205. Beniini said that he was bom
to be a painter rather than a sculptor and
that if he had been he would have carried
out his work promptly, a task which the
difficulty of working the material made im-
possible for him as a sculptor.
^
R. Wittkower, Le Bernin et le baroque
romain (Gazette des Beaux-Arts,
1934),
em-
phasizes the spirit of Bernini's sculpture, the
NOTES
feehng of movement which goes beyond
26
1
the limits of a block of stone, and the lower-
ing of the barriers which separate the stage
from the audience. Making a comparison
between
Jean dc Bologne and Bcniini, he
contrasts a purely mechanistic conception
with an energetic conception of movement.
'
He executed a bust of Richelieu and a
statue of Charles I of England. Queen Hen-
rietta Maria ordered one of herself (which
was not carried out) in June, 1639 (Biblio-
th^que Nationale. ItaHan manuscripts
2083,
Folio
37).
He was invited to Paris in the
reign of Louis XIII and was probably ap-
proached by Chantelou during his visit of
1640. But, anxious as he was to please
France, Urban VIII could not part with
Bernini at that time.
*
For example, for the fountain in the
Piazza Navona, where the statues of the four
rivers were carried out according to his
designs by his pupils Ruggi, Baratta and
FancelU.
^
An almost accidental suicide. Borromini,
in bed and ill, pierced himself with his sword
in a moment of anger, because his servant
refused to give him a light. He had time to
receive the last sacrament. He had been so
depressed that a few days before he took to
his bed he had burnt armfuls of his drawings
and plans.
'
Blondel, Traite de Varchitecture. Book II,
Chapter II, p. 250.
'
This is particularly true of the church
San Carlo (or Carlino) alle Quattro Fontane
but also of the Madone-des-Sept-Douleurs,
and of La Sapienza. There is an excellent
analysis of Borromini's arcliitecture in the
short work by GiuHo Carlo Argan, Borro-
mini
(1953), pp. 57
et seq, where the author
also makes ingenious and suggestive com-
parisons between the style ofBorromini and
that of Caravaggio.
*
On this subject there is a curious feature
worth noticing. The coat of arms with three
bees arranged in the form of a V suggests a
woman's body: the two upper bees repre-
sent the breasts, and the lower bee the navel.
On the four bases which support the pillars of
the baldacchino, these vague sketches of the
breasts and stomach swell to evoke, \\-ithout
any possible doubt, the stages ot gestation.
Is tlais a whim of the artist, in the fashion of
the Middle Ages? Is it a symbol of birth and
hfe, in the tradition of the Renaissance, such
as Andre Chastel has so ingeniously identi-
fied in the Saint Amie of the Louvtc?
{Retorica e Barocco. Atti del III Congresso
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
262
Intemazionale dei Studi Umanistici, Venice,
1954, p. 41.)
^
This beautiful statue of Veronica did not
please Bernini, who found it too restless.
^
This cult of the Holy Lance included
virtually the whole of the cult of the Sacrc-
Coeur, which was to become one of the most
striking forms of devotionand also one of
the most contestedof modern Cathohcism.
Ugo Spirito in his interesting work on
Barocco e Controrifonna {Retorica e Barocco,
op. cit., p. 216) observes that the cult of the
Sacre-Coeur has never found a satisfactory
artistic expression and that this fact seems to
him to reflect a divorce between art and the
Church in the history of the Baroque. Ber-
nini interpreted the cult of the Sacre-Coeur
effectively. It is expressed indirectly in his
statue of St Longinus, but more directly in
his astonishing drawing: Christ crucified, in a
sea
of
blood, reproduced by Munoz, op. cit.,
p. 377-
11
Bernini placed two campaniles over the
facâde of the Pantheon; these were the cele-
brated 'ears of a donkey', destroyed only in
1882. Roberto Pane has observed {Bernini,
p. 26) 'with what calm indifference a man
of the XVIIth century, endowed with a
great feeUng for classical architecture, had
no hesitation completely to change the pro-
portions of a church'.
12
G. C. Argan in his short study, Borro-
mini,
pp.
85-87, analyses Borromini's style
with great judgment. To the Baroque prin-
ciple of multiple articulation, Borromini
opposes the principle of merging spatial
shapes; his plan is the result of two opposing
forcescentrifugal and centripetal. Again,
in the architecture of Borromini, the oval
scheme or one tending towards an oval is
always the result ofmerging spatial relations.
1^
Churches with a central plan present,
in Bernini's opinion, one grave disadvantage.
When the visitor enters directly from the
street, he takes several steps under the cupola
and can no longer see the whole church. It
is advisable, therefore, to give him a breath-
ing-space, by interrupting his progress be-
fore he comes in. The little porch of Sant
Andrea provides the best solution to this
problem.
**
The appreciation of an outstanding
work of art is naturally subjective. For
Roberto Pane, the church of Sant Andrea al
Quirinale lacks the unity which is the essence
of a masterpiece (on account of the chapels
which open out of the central ground-plan,
and which are in part outside the structure
of the building). 'Consequently,' he adds
(op. cit.,
p. 70),
'the praise given to it by
many writers is a traditional tribute of
homage rather than a judgment founded on
a critical appraisal.' This opinion is very
different from that of the author.
^^
Marcel Reymond, Bernini,
p. 120.
When one re-reads the works, w^ritten
many years ago, of Marcel Reymond, one
is struck by the wisdom and truth of his
judgments and by his unprejudiced defence
of Baroque. By his standards, both sup-
porters and opponents in the quarrel about
Baroque use arguments which are irrelevant
to the problem.
^^
Roberto Pane (op. cit.,
p. 45)
recalls
the description of Fraschetti talking to the
crowd, which is dazzled by the throne
scintillating with gems and gold and who
nonetheless pay Peter's pence. He declares
that the naive ainazement of simple souls,
bewildered by the golden image of wealth,
is in fact a denial of the presence of a real
Christian spirit in this alleged masterpiece.
If it is accepted that the seventeenth-century
Church wished to dazzle people with its
riches and saw in this magnificence a source
of emotion profitable to itself, the main
question to decide is whether Baroque artists
satisfied this desire. This is the sole problem
for historians of civihzation; all other con-
siderations are unimportant.
^'
This figure of Charity brought to
Urban VIII much needed respect, one might
almost say rehabilitation. The new taxes
that the Pope imposed to pay for his build-
ings made him extremely unpopular in
Rome: he was called the 'Excise' Pope.
People were angry that he wished to have
his statue placed on the Capitol during his
lifetime (another work by Bernini). At his
death there were ugly scenes, bordering on
the blasphemous. This explains the reaction
of Innocent X against the enterprises of his
predecessor, though in fact he merely sub-
stituted others, also costly.
^^
V. MartineUi, Bernini,
p. 90. 'La tomba
barocca ha qui il suo archetipo.'
"
A. Munoz, op. cit.,
p. 195.
^^
During the period of Innocent X,
Algarde returned to the classical tradition
for another tomb in St Peter's, that of Leo
XI, the short-lived Pope of 1605, who came
between Clement VIII and Paul V, and
whose papacy of twenty-seven days inspired
nothing more than the most traditional
forms of homage. This was an elegant and
memorable work, but it was merely an
episode iii the history of funeral sculpture in
the Baroque period.
^^
Marcel Reymond, Le Bernin,
p. 135.
CHAPTER IV
^
Georges Pages, La Cticrrc de Trcnte Am
(Paris, Payot,
1939).
The German atlas,
Wcstcrmaniis Atlas zur WcUgesdiichte, Volume
III (edited by W. Trillmich and Czybulka,
1953)
includes a map of the destruction
caused by the Thirty Years' War, based on
the work of G. Franz and E. Keyser.
^
M. Pierre Goubert has published some
authoritative studies on the demographic
problems of the seventeenth century. See
his article in Annales, Seventh Year No
4,
October-December
1952,
En Beauuaisis,
problenies dcmoqraphique^ du XVII^ siecle. He
shows that in the country round Beauvais,
between 1657 and 1675, that is to say during
a period when invasion and military devas-
tation were absent, the average length of
Ufe was twenty years ten months, because of
the enormous infant mortality and the fact
that most of the population died before the
age of forty-five. This, it must be empha-
sized, was during a period of security.
'
On this question, the pioneer work has
been done by Earl Hamilton, American
treasure and the price revolution in Spain, 1501-
i6jo
(1934),
and War and Prices in Spain
(1947)-
*
Marcel Reymond, De Michel-Ange ^
Tiepolo,
p. 149. In the same work there is an
excellent page on the relationship between
riches and beauty: 'Riches are doubtless not
the whole ofbeauty, but they are an element
in beauty. If the love of riches is a false and
worthless ideal, it must nonetheless be re-
cognized that men have not always admitted
this to be so.'
*
Why was the behef in magic and witch-
craft so tenacious? On this subject see the
work of E. Delcambre, Le concept de la
sorcellerie dans le diiche de Lorraine au XVI^
et au XVII^ siecle Nancy,
1948-1949
(two
volumes); and in collaboration with Pro-
fessor Jean Lermitte, Un cas enigmatiquc de
possession diabolique en Lorraine au XV
W
siecle: Elisabeth de Ranfaing, Venergumcne de
Nancy (Nancy,
1956).
*
There are interesting remarks on this
point in Histoire de I'Eglise, Volume
19
(first
part), by E. PrecUn and Jarry, p. 49:
'The
most urgent task was to preach the Gospel
to the crowds. The Jesuits distinguished
themselves by their zeal ... by the skill which
they devoted to reaching the people.'
NOTES
' Marques de Lozoya,
Historia del Arte
26'?
Hispanico, Volume IV,
pp. 57
and
58. Elic
Lambert, L'art en Espagne el au Portugal,
pp.
80 et seq.
*
An interesting point of view about the
problems of absolute
monarchy was put
forward in the report by Hartung and
Mousnicr at the Dixicmc
Congrcs Inter-
national dcs Sciences Historiqucs a Rome,
in September
1955: Problemes concernant la
monarchie absolue. Rclazioni,
Volume IV
(Giunte Centrale per gli Studi Storici (edited
by G. S. Sansoni, Florence),
p. 41. The
authors ask whether there was not a con-
nection between the Baroque tendencies of
certain writers and artists and the resistance
to absolute monarchy. This view was ex-
pounded by M. Rene Huyghe in a lecture
pubhshed by the Bulletin de la Socicte
d'etude du XVII^ siecle. No 20
(1953),
Du
baroque au classicisme,
pp. 274 et seq.
*
On these French demands see the learned
study by Pere Blet in the Reuue d'liistoire
moderne et contemporaine. Volume II, April-
June 1955:
Article du Tiers aux ^tats generaux
de 1614. (The author is working on an im-
portant study about the Assemblies of the
Clergy in France from 161 5 to 1661, in
which the problem of monarchical power
will be discussed.)
^^
See the excellent book by Marc Bloch,
Les rois thaumaturges (Strasbourg,
1924), and
that of Jean de Pange, Le roi Tres Chretien
(Paris,
1949).
^^
At the time of the Assembly of 1613 in
Russia, the movement m favour of Michael
Romanov, a young man descended from
former Czars, came from the petty nobihty
in Government service, from the merchants
in the towns of the North, from the Cos-
sacks and from the people of Moscow. It
was a Cossack from the Don who first
publicized the name of the rightful Czar
(in Russian prirodnyi), Michael Fedoro-
vitch. (Klioutchevsky, Kours rousskoi istorii.
Volume III,
p. 77.)
1^
Testament politique, edited by Louis
Andre
(1946).
^^
Bossuet, Politique tiree dcs propres paroles
de I'Ecriture Sainte, Book X.
**
On the nobihty: P. Sagnac, La forma-
tion de la socicte franfaise moderne. Volume I,
La Societe et la monarchie absolue (Paris,
1945).
Vicomte de Marsay, De I'age dcs privileges
au temps des vanitcs (Paris,
1932).
Evidence about particular cases: Paul de
Roussiers, Une lamtlle dc hobcreaux paidatit
six siecles (Paris, Firmiii-Didot,
1935).
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
264
Due de Levis-Mirepoix, Aventures d'une
fainille frangaise (Paris, La Palatine,
1955).
Interesting enquiries into the nobility were
published in the Annales d'Histoire Econo-
mique et Sociale, Volume VIII
(1936). Be-
tween 1919
and
1939
Czech historians were
particularly interested in the problem of the
nobility. They were influenced by the
wôrk of
J.
Pekaf, Kniha Kosti, I-II (second
edition), Bild Hora
(1921),
Valdstejn
(1934)
and, despite the polemical nature of the
book, Omyly a nebezpeci pozemkove reformy
(Mistakes and Dangers in Agricultural Re-
form) (Prague, 1923),
remarkable studies of
the links between the nobiHty and the land.
Dr Jan
Muk, Po stopdch ndrodniho vedomt
ceske slechty pohclohorske (Signs of National
Feeling among the Czech NobiUty after the
battle of the White Mountain) (Prague,
1931), p. 159.
Zdenek KaUsta, Mladi Hump-
rechtajana Ceniina z Chudenic, zrozeni haro-
kniho Kavalira (The Youth of Humprechta-
Jean Cemin z Chudenic, the Formation of a
Baroque Knight).
^*
At the beginning of the war against
Spain, Richelieu and his colleagues had un-
precedented difficulty in keeping the nobles
in the army for more than a certain number
of weeks. In 1638, the Cardinal's own
brother-in-law, the Marechal de Breze, com-
manding the army of Champagne, asked to
be allowed to return home to Anjou, and
used his lack of wealth as an excuse, in addi-
tion to his health (Avenel, Lettres de Richelieu
VI, 84).
Montglat in his memoirs hints that
the marshal wanted to retire to his estates in
Anjou to hunt and to defend his hunting
rights against neighbouring nobles.
^^
On the bourgeoisie, in addition to the
classic work of W. Sombart, Der Bourgeois
(1913),
see P. Sagnac, La formation de la
societe frani;aise tnoderne. Volume I, La societe
et la monarchie absohie (Paris,
1945).
Emile Male, La vie quotidienne au temps de
Louis Kill, based on unpublished documents
(Paris, 1942).
On the provincial bourgeoisie :
J.
M. Richard,
La vie priuee dans une province de I'Ouest:
Laval au XVII^ et XVIII^ siecles (Paris,i922),
G. Roupnel, op. cit.
^'
Antoine Adam, Histoire de la litterature
frangaise au XVII^ siecle. Volume II, p. 79.
^^
Jacques Scherer, La Dramaturgie classique
en France, where there is an excellent page
on the passion for the theatre
(p.
160).
^^
Lucien Febre in the preface to Seville
et VAtlantique
1^04-1650, by Huguette and
Pierre Chaunu,
pp.
XIII and XIV.
^'
Testament politique, edited by Andr^,
p.
212. On the Jesuits' teaching, see the
studies by R. P. de Dainville, Foyers de culture
scientifique dans la France mediterraneenne (Re-
vue d'histoire des sciences, Volume I,
pp.
289-300).
L'enseignement des mathematiques dans les
colleges jesuites de France du XVI^ au XVIII^
siecle (Volume
7, pp.
6-21 and 109-12
1).
'^^
Sainte-Beuve, Port-Royal, Volume IV,
p. 322.
CHAPTER V
^
If the Hmits of this book had permitted,
I viôuld have liked to describe more fully
the evolution of literary taste and the arts
during the furst half of the seventeenth cen-
tury, from Henri IV to the deaths of Riche-
lieu and Louis XIII. There are, however,
many excellent works to which the reader
may refer.
On Hterature, R. Lebegue was one of the
first to discuss French Baroque. See his
articles: Le theatre baroque en France (Bibl.
d'Humanisme et Renaissance,
1942). Les
larmes de Saint-Pierre, Poeme Baroque (Revue
des Sciences humaines, July-December,
1949).
The introduction to the series of lec-
tures Du baroque au classicisme (XVII^ siecle.
No 20, 1953).
Vhistoire de la litterature fran-
gaise au XVII^ siecle, by Antoine Adam, is
the best documented and most suggestive
work on this problem (Volume I, L'epoque
de Henri IV et Louis XIII). By the same
author: Theophile de Viau et la libre pensee
frangaise en 1620 (Paris, Droz,
1936).
O. Nadal, Le sentiment de Vamour dans Vceuvre
de Pierre Corneille (Paris, Gallimard,
1948).
J.
Scherer, La dramaturgie classique en France
(Paris, Nizet).
Rene Bray, Laformation de la doctrine classique
en France (Paris, Hachette,
1927).
Henry Carrington Lancaster, A History
of
French Dramatic Literature in the Seventeenth
Century (Baltimore, 1929-42), 9
volumes:
Volume I, The pre-classical period 1610-
1634, 2 parts. Volume II, The period of
Corneille 1635-1651, 2 parts.
R. Fromilhague, La vie de Malherbe, appren-
tissages et luttes, 1^^^-1610 (Paris, CoUn,
1954).
R. Fromilhague, Malherbe, technique et crea-
tion poetique (Paris, Colin,
1954).
Marcel Reymond, Baroque et Renaissance
poetique (Paris, Corti,
1955).
Louis Batiffol, Richelieu et Corneille (Paris,
Calmann-Levy,
1936).
On the arts : L. Hautecoeur, Histoire de Varchi-
tecture classiquc en France, Volume I, part 2.
A. Blunt, Art and Architecture in France
1500
-lyoo.
B. Dorival, ha peinture frangaise (Paris,
Larousse, 1942).
A. Mabille de Poncheville, Philippe de Cham-
paigne (Paris,
1938).
F. G. Pariset, Georges de la Tour (Paris,
1948),
a revealing book.
F. G. Viiisct, Jacques Callot (A guide to the
exhibition on the third centenary of the
death of Callot) (Nancy,
1935).
F. G. Pariset, Articles on Jacques de Bellange
(Archives Alsaciennes de I'Histoire des Arts,
1934;
Bulletin de la societe de I'histoire de
I'art franq:ais,
1955),
on Georges Lallemant
(Gazette des Beaux-Arts, July, 1954),
and on
Claude Deruet (Gazette des Beaux-Arts,
1952).
Michel Fare, unpubUshed thesis. La Nature
Morte en France.
W. Friedlaender, The Drawings
of
Nicolas
Poussin (London, 1939-1953).
P. Jamot, Connaissance de Poussin (Munich,
1914).
E. Magne, Nicolas Poussin, premier peintre du
Roi (sixth edition, Paris, 1928).
G. Lewis, Descartes et Poussin (XVIP siecle,
No 23, 1954).
2
On this point the suggestive article by
Pierre Moisy, Martellange, Derand et le conflit
du baroque, monumental bulletin (Societe
Franâise d'Archeologie), Volume CX,
1952,
third part,
pp.
237-261, and the dis-
cussion with E.
J.
Ciprut (XVII^ siecle,
No 23, 1954);
also Varchitecte Francois Der-
and, jesuite lorrain (Revue de I'histoire de
France, Volume XXXVI, July-December,
1950).
These studies are included in Moisy's
authoritative thesis, which has already been
mentioned.
M. Chardon, Amateurs d'art et coUectionneurs
manceaux du XV
U^
siecle: les frcres Freart de
Chantelou (Le Mans,
1867), p.
202.
On the theory of the circle, see the works of
Freart de Chambray, Parallcle de Varchitec-
ture antique et moderne (second edition, 1702)
and Idee de la perfection de la peinture (Le
Mans, 1662).
'
On the Italian festivals, see Gerardo
Guerrieri's preface to the catalogue for the
Venice exhibition of
195 1: // secolo dell'
invenzione teatrale.
*
A. Uccelli, Storia della tecnica (Milan,
1943)-
A. Wolf, History
of
Science, Technology and
NOTES
Philosophy, Volume I, The XVIth andXVIIth
265
Centuries (London,
1950).
^
A. Chastel, Leonard de Vinci et I'experi-
ence scientifique au XVI'' siecle (Paris, CNRS,
1952).
*
H. Pruni^res, Vopera en France avant
Lulli (Paris,
191 3).
Romain RoUand, Musiciens d'autrefois (Paris).
'
Corneille, CEuvres completes, Andromede
(1650). The quotations arc taken from the
explanation that accompanies the play. On
Andromede and the works of Corneille in
general during the regency of Anne of
Austria, see A. Adam, Histoire de la littcrature
frangaise au XVII^ siecle and O. Nadal, Le
sentiment de Vamour dans Vceuvre de Pierre
Corneille. The figures quoted in the text are
given by A. Adam and taken from the
Journal of Dubuisson-Aubenay.
*
On the ballet of Les Noces de Pelee et
Thetys, see Bibliotheque Nationale, Es-
tampes lb 2; H. Prunicres, Le ballet de cour
avant Benserade et Lulli (Paris,
1913).
^
In the Archives Nationales, Paris, H*
2012", will be found the contracts between
the city and Regnaudin and Fleurant le Noir
signed by the mayor, Alexandre de S^ve.
Regnaudin received a fee of 1,000 livres
tournois, 300 when the contract was signed,
300 when half the work was done, and 400
when it was completed. Fleurant le Noir
received a fee of 1,400 livres tournois, in
instalments of 600, 400 and 400, with the
right to take away his timber after the festi-
val. Thomas Regnaudin, son of a stone
mason, wzs bom in 1622, and died in 1706.
He was a pupil of Anguier, with whom he
worked on the tomb of the Constable of
Montmorency. In 1669 he made a tour of
Italy.
^^
The city of Paris arranged for an offi-
cial account of the day to be pubhshed in a
wôrk decorated with engravings by Jean
Marot. A copy bound in red morocco and
stamped with the royal arms is kept in the
Bibhotheque Nationale, Estampes, Pd
43.
It is entitled L'entree triomphante de leurs
Majestcs Louis XIV roi de France et Navarre
et Marie-Therese d'Autriche, son epouse, dans
la ville des rois, capitale de leur royaume, en
retour de la signature de la paix gcncrale et de
leur lieureux mariage, enrichie de plusicurs
figures,
de harangues et de diverses pieces con-
siderables pour I'histoire, le tout exaaement
recueilli par I'ordre des Messieurs de la ville et
imprimS Van MDCLXII avec privilege du roi.
This work provides the principal source for
the account of the festival.
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
266
^^
'^^^
picture by Le Brun is in the Louvre.
All the details correspond to the description
of the royal entry, so that there is no pos-
sible doubt as to its subject. But it was long
thought to represent the entry of the Chan-
cellor to Paris after the repression of the
Normandy rising (see Victor-L. Tapie, La
France de Louis XIII et Richelieu,
p. 494).
The
Grenoble museum contains a very fine work
by Van der Meulen showing the royal pro-
cession crossing the Pont-Neufthe following
day on the way to celebrate Te Deum at
Notre Dame.
^*
P. Cossart (really Gaussart), La magni-
fique
entree, 1660 (in doggerel), quarto,
7
pages, Bibhotheque Nationale Y^ 2402.
^^
The agreement with Fleurant le Noir
(Archives Nationales H^ 2012'') states: 'sera
faict le dit arc on portiq de menuiserie . . .
ainsi qu'U est porte par le dessin qui on a
este faict par le sieur MeUn, peintre ordinaire
du Roi et paraphe par les diets sieurs prevost
des marchands et echevins'. The official re-
cord recalls that this arch was designed by
the sieur Melin.
^*
The inscription reads:
'Ludovico Adeodato et Mariae Theresae
Christianiss. pacific, aug. opt. max.
Orbe nuptiis pacato, urbe adventu re-
creata
Votis pubUcis, votis aetemis Summa
omnium ordinum alacritate susceptis
D.N.M. Q.
eorum cives L.M.P.P.'
^^
Pamphlets, explanatory leaflets and
various accounts of the festival wiU be
found in the Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris,
in the series Lb
3729,
numbers 3.360 to
3.388.
Lb
37 3-374:
Les devises generates et particulieres des tab-
leaux,figures en relief, plate peinture et medailles
qui sont aux partes et portiques des Arcs de
triomphe eleves a la gloire de Louis XIV, roy de
France, aux faux bourg et Porte Saint-Antoine,
cymeticre Saint-Jean, Pont Nostre-Dame, marche
neuf et place Dauphine-a Paris, 'chez
J.
P.
Loyson, avec privilege du roi'.
The author complains of having been fore-
stalled in his scheme, seeks to discredit an
Explication generale, which has already ap-
peared, and boasts of 'His Majesty's permis-
sion'.
His translations are pedantic and far-fetched:
he takes twenty-eight verses to translate eight
lines of the inscription on the obelisk.
Lb
37 3-375:
La description des Arcs de triomphe esleves dans
les Places publiques pour Ventree de la Reyne
avec la veritable explication en prose et en vers
des
figures,
ovales, termes et portraits de tous les
roys de France, qui sont dessus le Pont Notre-
Dame ensemble diverses remarques curieuses et
particulieres pour les amateurs de I'histoire et
I'ordre que LeursMajestes observeront dans leur
marche depuis Vincennes jusqu' au Louvre. 'At
Paris, chez
J.
B. Loyson, Rue Saint-Jacques,
pres la Poste a la croix royalle, MDCLX,
avec privilege du Roy.' (The right granted
in May to Francois Colletet had been made
over to Loyson.)
This is a sort of programme, but in describ-
ing the royal statues on the bridge of Notre
Dame, it gives the reader a history of France.
For example, here are his observations on
Charles IX
(p. 18); it will be noticed that he
does not mention the events of St Bartholo-
mew's day:
LVIII (586 roi de France) Charles DC.
Justitiam pietas acuit. Et son bras fut
I'effroi des esclaves du vice (a general
paraphrase). La bataille de Dreux, ou
le Roy de Navarre fut tue, la deux, trois
et quatrieme guerre civile, les edits de
pacification, le siege de la Rochelle, son
voyage a Bayonne et celui de la Guy-
enne furent les principales choses qui se
passerent pendant les quatorze aimees de
son regne.'
Lb
37 3.377:
Vexplication generale de toutes les peintures,
statues, et tableaux des portiques et arcs de tri-
omphe, dresses pour Ventree du roi et de la reine,
tant au faubourg et porte Saint-Antoine qu'aux
places publiques, pont Notre-Dame, marche neuf,
avec une description de la belle et magnifique
pyramids de la Place Dauphine et son amphi-
theatre, ensemble toutes les devises et inscrip-
tions Latines expliquees en franâis de la marche
de Leurs Majestes depuis Vincennes jusqu'au
Louvre. Paris, Cardin Besongne, 1660.
This is the pamphlet attacked by the author
of the 'Devises generales et particuUeres'.
^*
There is a slight mystery about the
Vigaranis' connection with this.
Gabriel Rouches in the Inventaire des lettres
et papiers manuscrits de Gaspare, Carlo et Ludo-
vico Vigarani conserves aux Archives d'etat de
Modene i6'^4-i684 (Paris,
1913),
analyses
a letter from Ludovico Vigarani to the
Duchess of Modena, Laure Martinozzi, a
niece of Mazarin. Gaspare Vigarani had
erected the triumphal arches for the king's
entry into Paris. The arches, particularly
that at the Porte Saint-Antoine (letter
38,
i6th October, 1660, p. 106), won congratu-
lations. What significance should be at-
tached to 'erect' and what was Vigarani's
part in the execution of this work? The
author of the account docs not give the
name of the builder of the arch at the Porte-
Saint-Antoine. I had originally imagined
that it was Blondel. In fact, Blondel recon-
structed the arch in 1671, enlarging it with
new doorways, but he kept all the original
decorations (statues, pyramids and inscrip-
tions). In the fourth part. Book XII, Chap-
ter II of his Traite d'architecture, Blondel out-
lines the work he did to rehabilitate the
Porte Saint-Antoine which, he said, had
served as a triumphal arch for Henri II and
was embellished by figures of rivers by Jean
Goujon (the Marne and the Seine). It is sur-
prising that he does not mention the events of
August 20th, since on that day the Porte
Saint-Antoine was finished and the statues
of Anguier, Van Obstal, etc, were placed
upon it. Does not this silence suggest that he
did not wîsh to mention Vigarani? More-
over, in 1660 Vigarani was occupied with
building the Theatre des Tuileries which
was making slow progress. He complained
of the slowness of the French workmen,
who were devoting so much enthusiasm to
carrying out the works for the royal entry.
In any case the projects for the other trium-
phal arches were certainly not the responsi-
bility of the Vagarinis, who can have played
only a very small part in the preparations
for the festival. The arch reconstructed by
Blondel was demoUshed in 1778; the statues
by Anguier are now in the Musee Cama-
valet.
^''
The programme of the fete annoimced
that the King and Queen would stop at the
Cathedral to offer up prayers. In fact, this
halt did not take place, because it was real-
ized that it would hold up the procession.
The royal couple should have returned to
Notre Dame in the evening to hear the Te
Deum. But this was postponed to the fol-
lowing day, either because of a deliberate
decision, or because of the length of time
taken by the procession and the late hour at
which it reached the Louvre.
^*
In the BibHotheque Nationale there is
a brochure, entitled Description de Fare de la
place Daiipliitie, presentee ^ Son Eminence,
Paris, Pierre le Petit, MDCLX, with per-
mission. The brochure is anonymous, but
tliis copy has the signature of Felibien on
p.
16. It provides the only complete ex-
planation of the monument. A fme engrav-
ing, which has unfortunately been torn from
the binding, gives a detailed picture of the
NOTES
triumphal arch and the obelisk. It is known
267
that Le Brun's design was carried out by
Person, Halle, Francur, Lhomme and Bacot.
"
Reproductions of the triumphal arches
of the Marche and of the Place Dauphinc
will be found in L. Hautecocur, Volume
III,
pp. 241 and 242.
"
The description of the arches ends with
a passage which deserves quotation.
It was announcedwronglythat the pro-
cession would arrive at the Louvre only at
nightfall and that this would be the signal:
'pour allumer les lantcrnes aux fenfitres, les
feux dans toutes les rues, pendant que les
canons, les mortiers ct les boetes feront un
agreable tintamarre dans I'air et sembleront
dire en leur langage qui Icur (sic) est bien
plus doux de tonner au triomphe et au
mariage de notre grand monarque qu'aux
combats et aux campagnes de la guerre'.
*^
G. Mongredien, L'Affaire
Foucquet
(Hachette,
1956).
This learned study by a
scholar of seventeenth-century history en-
ables one to understand how the superinten-
dent, while accumulating his own fortune,
remained the only person capable, because
of his sources of credit, of providing the
Treasury with the help it needed in extreme
difficulty. Moreover, the most important
people in the kingdom, including the Queen
Mother herself (for her poor, it is true),
accepted pensions and presents in kind from
him.
*2
L. Hautecoeur, op. cit., Volume II*,
pp.
loi et seq. Tradition was respected in
the general appearance of the chateau, with
its side pavilions. Innovation came from a
more ingenious and intimate arrangement
of the rooms, in twos or threes, and the
presence of a bathroom.
The great oval drawing-room is reminiscent
of that in the Barberini palace.
"^
Mohere, CEuvres completes. Volume I
(Pleiade edition, p. 402). These verses are
taken from the Prologue to the Facheux, a
comedy performed at Vaux, on August 1 7th,
1 67
1. They were addressed to the King by a
wâter-nymph, emerging from a shell in the
middle of twenty jets of water, who 'with
a heroic air, recited the verses that Monsieur
PeHsson had written and which formed the
prologue'. PeUsson was arrested and im-
prisoned a few days later as a friend and
collaborator of Foucquet.
"
Ibid.
**
It may be said that Louis XIV was only
carrying out his duty in punishing an un-
trustworthy minister. But it is also true that
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
268
i" *^he words of the Queen Mother 'he Uked
to be rich and did not Hke those who wêre
richer than himself. Up to the last moment,
w^hen all the details of the arrest had been
planned, he loaded Foucquet with gifts and
seemed to show him complete confidence.
Louis XIV was convinced that great affairs
could only be conducted in secrecy, and be-
cause ofhis great responsibilities, he justified
himself in placing himself outside the ordi-
nary moral code.
2*
On the Tmleries, see L. Hautecoeur, op.
cit.,
p. 234.
*'
On Ercole amante, see H. Prunieres,
L'opera italien en France avant Lidli and
Remain RoUand, Musiciens d'autrefois.
^^
Louis XIV ordered that an exact ac-
count should be compiled of the Plaisirs de
Vile enchantee, adorned with engravings. "We
have studied this account, ofwhich the com-
plete text is reproduced in volume I of the
works of Mohere, pubHshed according to
the edition of 1682 in the Pleiade collection
by Maurice Rat.
^^
La Princesse d'Elide is included in the
repertoire of the Comedie-Frangaise, and
was last performed in
1946, with Jean-Louis
Barrault taking the part of Moron. The
difficulties to be overcome in producing the
spectacle of 1664 can be appreciated if re-
ference is made to the Pleiade edition of
Mohere.
CHAPTER VI
^
The expression 'Pavilion du roi' was
first appUed to the paviHon built by Lescot,
but later it seems to have been extended to
cover the w^hole of the south wîng. The
garden today extends only to a few flower
beds along the small gallery, but in the
seventeenth century, it consisted ofa pleasant
park, with beautiful trees. It was later known
as the Infanta's garden, because the Infanta
Mariannita-Victoire, daughter ofPhihppe V,
came to play there when, as she was being
brought up in France in order to become
the wife of the young King Louis XV, she
was hving at the Louvre. The engagement
was later broken to permit Louis XV to
marry Marie Leczszynska. The princess was
brought back to Spain and later married the
King of Portugal.
^
This is more or less the present situation
of the Pavilion Lesdiguieres.
^
At this date Mohere had to leave the
theatre where his plays were performed be-
cause the building was demohshed.
*
Bibliotheque Nationale, Melanges Col-
bert, 120 bis, f56i. Letter in ItaUan from
Bernini to Colbert, May 4th, 1664.
^
Bibhotheque Nationale, Melanges Col-
bert, 121 bis, f86i. Letter from Bernini to
Colbert, June 23rd, 1664: 'assicurando lo
(Colbert) che se havesse potuto operare il
desiderio independentemente dall arte, har-
ebbe parterito un palazzio digne di S. Mta'.
'
L. Hautecoeur, Le Louvre et les Tuileries,
Histoire du Louvre, pubhshed by L'lllustra-
tion, gives the plans and design for the
Louvre,
pp. 56, 57,
58.
'
Colbert's memoire is pubhshed in
Volume V of the Lettres, instructions et
memoires de Colbert, pubhshed by Clement,
pp.
246-250. The plan of the first design is
reproduced by Roberto Pane, op. cit., fig
164. The elevation is reproduced in the same
work, fig 163, and in L. Hautecoeur, His-
toire du Louvre,
p. 57.
*
These courtyards were
4^
'toises' square
in area. They presented in fact a compUcated
design, difficult to describe, but very logical,
if one looks at the plan. Surrounded by walls
on three sides, the fourth side wâs open; in
firont was the curve of the concave gaUery,
*
There is no trace of it in Paris. In the
Tessin collection, Stockholm, is a drawing
attributed to Bernini which may form part
of the second project; it is an elevation, not
a plan. Bernini may have given it to Tessin
the younger when the Swedish architect was
staying in Rome. Although it can probably
be attributed to Bernini, there is no absolute
proof. See the article by Josephson, men-
tioned later. The Stockholm drawing is
reproduced in Roberto Pane's book, fig 165.
^
Roberto Pane, op. cit.,
p. 95.
^^
The question of security was essential
to the Louvre. It remained one of Colbert's
great objections to Bernini's various plans.
A Soviet historian, B. F. Porchnev, struck
by this insistence, has argued that the royal
government, being imposed by force, had
always to reckon with popular risings. See
this book Narodnie vosstaniia vo Francii pri
Kol'berte (Popular risings in France during
the time of Colbert), p. 389. Porchnev has
studied urban revolts in different countries
during the seventeenth century. It is obvious
that they could always be expected in Paris,
where the Froude and the attempt against
Henri IV had taken place. But at aU times,
in all countries and under all regimes, mea-
sures must be and are taken to guarantee the
personal safety of members of the Govern-
ment. It was natural for Colbert to do his.
While the royal apartments were as secure
as possible in the south wing, they would
have been more vulnerable and would have
been exposed to all sorts of risks and diffi-
culties if they had been placed in the east
wing, unless the surroundings had been
cleared by expropriating and levelling exist-
ing buildings, the cost of which would have
been exorbitant.
1^
Perhaps Colbert had begun to resign
himself to this in Bernini's time, if a phrase
reported by Chantclou can be thus inter-
preted: 'II (Colbert) lui avait fait entendre
(au Bemin) que I'appartement du Roi ne
pouvait etre qu'au lieu ou il est.' (Journal,
p. 264.) But did Colbert say this when the
plans had been abandoned and he wished to
place the responsibihty on Bernini's ob-
stinacy in making no concessions to other
people's views?
^'
All this is clearly set out in the works
of L. Hautecoeur {Histoire de Varchitecture
classique, Le Louvre et les Tuileries, Histoire
du Louvre). The facade of the south wing
finished by Le Vau became a partition wall.
But it was necessary to enlarge the pavilions
at the corner of the colonnade planned in
1667, in order to bring the south-east one to
the level of the south fa9ade of which it
formed the angle and in order to maintain
the symmetry of the other side.
As to the colossal fore-part that Bernini
sacrificed in his plans (see below), Le Vau
destroyed it in his turn. He replaced the
existing fore-part with a pediment which
recalls the design of the pediments of the
east facade.
^*
For Bernini's journey to Paris, Chante-
lou's Journal is the principal source (edited
by Lalanne, first edition of the Gazette des
Beaux-Arts, 1885, and second edition by G.
Charensol, Stock 1930). There is also an
Italian translation by St Bottari
(1946),
and
a German translation by H. Rose (Monaco,
1919).
Two important articles: Ed. Esmonin,
Le Bemin et la construction du Louvre {Bulletin
de la socicte de Vhistoire de I'artfranâis, 191
1);
L. Mirot, Le Bemin en France, les traraux du
Louvre et les statues de Louis XIV (Memoires
de la societe de I'histoire de Paris et de
risle de France, Volume XXXI,
1904,
pp.
169-288). Mirot's article adds to the docu-
mentation of theJournal and provides ample
information about the visit to Paris. Esmo-
nin's article, in a closely reasoned analysis,
emphasizes the relations between Colbert
and Bernini after the Litter's departure and
refutes the theory that the plans were aban-
doned as early as October 1665. See also L.
NOTES
Hautecoeur, Le Louvre et les Tuileries,
pp.
158 et seq.
^'
This engraving forms the frontispiece
to the book by F. Baldinucci, Vita del Cav.
L. Bernini (Florence, 1862). It is reproduced
in the book by Stanislas Fraschctti, // Bernini
(1900),
also as the frontispiece, and in that
by Munoz, Roma barocca,
p. 378. But the
modern reproductions have not the life of
Baldinucci's engraving.
*' Caricature of Bernini: un cavalier
fran-
cese, in V. Martinclli, Bernini,
p. 150.
^'
Chantelou, op. cit.,
p. 15.
^^
Carlo Vigarani notes this in a letter to
the Duchess of Modena, dated June 19th,
1665 (G. Rouchcs, op. cit.).
^*
Colbert, Lettres et instructions, edited by
Clement, Volume V, p. 251 et seq. The date
indicated1664is obviously a mistake.
Mirot corrects it: August 13th, 1665. The
context proves that it concerns a note drawTi
up by Colbert for Bernini during the latter's
stay in Paris.
""
p. 36.
*^
p. 35.
*^
p. 41.
"^
p. 74,
30th July.
^*
Mirot, op. cit.,
p. 231; the text can be
found in the Bibhotheque Nationale, Italian
manuscripts 2083.
**
The fmal plan (see above,
p. 208) makes
it clear how he solved this difficulty. The
quadrangle is formed by the three existing
pavilions: that by Le Vau on the south, that
by Lescot and by Lemercier (the Clock
pavilion) on the west and a third similar
one on the north. The east side is closed by
a gallery. Beyond this gallery is a space
occupied by two courtyards, divided by a
peristyle; beyond that is the pavilion. The
front and the dome of the pa\dlion appear
to be in the centre of the ^îng when one is
in the courtyard, but not when one is out-
side.
^
Chantelou, op. cit., p. 40.
*'
Chantelou, op. cit., p. 76. Jean-Louis
Vaudoyer recalls that 'Palladio was more
interested in his plans and elevations dian in
their execution. Architects in those happy
times confided the carr^-ing out of their
ideas to subordinates, and it is claimed that
L. B. Alberti, for example, never went to
Rimini to see the Malatesta temple which
he had designed' {Les dcliccs dc Vltalie,
p. 45).
It is understandable, therefore, that Bernini
should be so surprised by Colbert's demands.
^*
In the Comptcs des Batiments du Roi,
edited by Guiffrey, Volume I, p. 102, the
269
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
270
y^^'^ 1665: 'Au Sr. Varin pour son paiement
d'une medaille d'or qu'il a fait mettre sur
les fondations du Louvre: 1,199 Uvres.'
**
The symbolism of these statues (de-
signed by Le Hongre) particularly pleased
Louis XIV. The hero of strength and toil
guarded the gate to his palace and recalled
the great undertakings of his reign and the
deeds to be accomplished in order to be
worthy of approaching it.
^^
The same is true of the side fa9ade. But
it presents many curious features. It is not
symmetrical; there is a little pavilion, then
a larger one set back, then the central build-
ing and another pavilion set back; these are
the older pavilions of Lescot and Le Vau
raised by one storey. In order to join up with
the big pavilion at the comer, there is a nar-
row pavilion three storeys high and one
window in width. It is not possible to des-
cribe all the details here. These peculiarities
reveal the effort to enlarge the corner pavi-
lions of the east fa9ade and make them more
habitable, and also to level the old buildings
of the east fa9ade built before the old quad-
rangle.
^^
p. 244.
^^
That is, the Pantheon in Rome.
'^
p.
201.
'*
Bernini was easily moved. This is not
surprising when one thinks of the character
of his work. He flew into a passion as
quickly as he relented. One of his most
furious scenes during his stay in Paris oc-
curred during a conversation with Perrault.
The latter casually asked him for accounts
for the twô sides of the pavilion facing the
river, fmding that they did not correspond.
Bernini said that he had made no mistakes,
that Perrault was not worthy of cleaning the
soles of his shoes so far as an architectural
plan was concerned, and that he was going
to complain to the King and go away. Per-
rault was in despair. The next day Beniini
came to offer his apologies w^hich Perrault
accepted with good grace. (Chantelou, op.
cit.,
pp.
206-207.)
^*
Guiffrey in his edition of Comptes des
hdtiments du Roi, Volume I, p. 105,
gives the
following details:
au Sr. Cavalier Bernin, par gratification
et en consideration de son merite et des
desseins qu'il a faits pour le Louvre:
33,000 Uvres
au Sr. Paulo Bernin, par gratification:
6,000 livres
au Sr. Mathias (de Rossi) qui doit execu-
ter les desseins du dit Sr. Cavalier Bernin
par gratification: 6,000 livres
au Sr. Julio, esleve en sculpture du Sr.
Cavalier Bernin, idem: 1,200 livres
au Sr. Barberet, servant a interpreter et
a traduire de franq:ais en itaUen les mem-
oires necessaires pour le dit Sr. Cava-
lier: 900 livres
au Sr. Mancine, qui a accompagne le
dit Sr. Cavalier Bernin durant son
voiage en France et qui retourne le
conduire a Rome: 2,000 livres
et encore {ibidem
p. 115):
la somme de
7,451
livres
9
sols pour
rentier paiement des despenses qui ont
ete faites pour la nourriture du Sr. Cava-
Her Bernin pour travailler aux dessein
du Louvre, depuis son depart jusqu'a
son retour en sa maison:
7,451
livres 9 sols
^*
After Bernini's departure it was rum-
oured that he had gone away dissatisfied.
Colbert seemed very concerned about this.
He accepted Chantelou's offer to write to
Bernini at Lyons to ascertain his feelings.
Bernini repHed on 30th October that it
wôuld be seen by his actions rather than by
his words that he remained 'obligate e
innamorato di un si gran Re' {Journal,
pp.
258-260).
^'
Colbert, Lettres (Clement edition),
Volume V, p. 269.
^*
In the Cabinet des Estampes of the
Bibliotheque Nationale there is a collection
of engravings by Sebastien Leclerc in two
volumes. In Folio
53
of the first volume is a
medallion representing Bernini's design for
the Louvre with this title: 'Majestati ac aeter-
nit. Gall. Imperii Sacrum.' The seven wônders
of the world figure in the surrounding de-
coration. Thus the King's palace was held to
equal or surpass the most beautiful monu-
ments of the ancient world.
'*
In Blondel, Architecture frarifaise.
Volume IV, will be found a criticism of
Bernini's plans for the Louvre.
*"
On this point see the articles by Ivlirot
and Esmonin.
*^
BibHotheque Nationale, Italian manu-
scripts 2083, letter from Colbert to Bernini,
31st December, 1666.
*^
RagnarJosephson, Les Maquettes du Ber-
nin pour le Louvre (Gazette des Beaux-Arts,
1928, Volume LXX),
p. 77.
*3
Bibliotheque Nationale, Italian manu-
scripts 2083, f. 243,
letter from Colbert to
Bernini, 15th July, 1667: 'Le Roi a eu beau-
coup de regret de n'avoir pu faire executer
le beau dessein que vous lui aviez donne
pour son bastiment du Louvre, mais sa
Majeste considerant qu'il ctait difficile de
s'embarquer dans une entreprise aussi con-
siderable que celle-la dans la conjoncture
presente d'une guerre par terre et par mer
dont la duree etant incertaine aurait pu
y
causer quelque interruption et que d'ailleurs
sa Majeste ayant besoin d'estre logce, elle
s'est veue dans la necessite de faire continuer
le dessein qui a este commence par ses
ancestres et qui pent estre acheve dans le
cours de deux ou trois annees, se reservant
de faire un jour executer vostre dessein et de
choisir pour cela quelque scituation advan-
tageuse et proportionnee a sa grandeur et a
sa magnificence, de quoy elle ne desespere
pas que vous n'en veniez reconnoistre le
scituation et mesmes prendre la conduite et
luy donner encore une fois la joye de vous
voir travailler avec tant de conduite et de
bon succes. Au reste. Monsieur, je vous
rends mil graces du soin que vous prenez de
notre Academic. Le Sr. Errard m'escrit que
nos jeunes estudians proffittent extra-
ordinairement de vos corrections et que la
bonte que vous avez de prendre quelques
fois le cizeau et le marteau et de donner
quelques coups a leurs ouvrages les en-
courage beaucoup.'
**
See P. Lavedan, Histoire de Vart (Collec-
tion Clio: Le Moyen Age et Vart moderne),
pp. 396-397;
M. Reymond Le Bernin,
pp.
146 et seq; the articles already mentioned by
Mirot and Esmonin. L. Hautecceur, Histoire
de Varchitecture classique en France (Volume
IP), p. 282, sees the real reason for Bernini's
defeat in his contempt for the requirements
of the programme. Roberto Pane, op. cit.,
p. 106, note I, discusses M. Reymond's
opinion that 'les Franâis etaient sous la
dependance des idees classiques de la Renais-
sance' (loc. cit., p. 146).
For him, on the
other hand, Bernini is the last messenger of
the Renaissance and what the French imder-
stood by Renaissance Classicism was not its
spirit but its details.
*'
Mirot, article quoted,
p. 276.
**
Esmonin, whose article has already
been mentioned, observes that many of the
documents which could have thrown hght
on the reasons for the decision have been
lost. Colbert's papers are not complete after
1667 and two volumes of documents about
the colonnade were destroyed in the fire at
the Louvre Library during the Commune
of 1871.
*'
Chantelou (op. cit.,
p. 264) had an
interview with Colbert on 23 rd June 1668
T
NOTES
and told him that he regretted that Bernini's
27
1
plans had been abandoned. Colbert then
decided to pursue a new plan, and recounted
the difficulties presented by the position of
the royal apartments and Bernini's obstinacy
about this. 'On ne pouvait nier, dit-il, que
le dessein ne fut beau ct magnifique, mais
qu'en ruinant, pour ainsi dire, tout le
Louvre, et en dcpcnsant dix millions, il
laissait le Roi avec aussi pcu dc commodite i
son appartemcnt qu'il avait auparavcnt.' And
he spoke twice ofthe expense often milhons.
**
L. Hautccoeur, Histoire du Louvre,
p. 63.
**
Chantelou had declared to Colbert that
one 'ne devait pas croire' that Le Brun and
Perrault had wanted to prevent the execu-
tion of Bernini's plan, the first for fear of
losing the ministry of buildings of which he
was in charge, and the second because of
resentment after the sharp quarrel he had
had with Bernini. 'Ce serait pour de trcs
petits interets empecher I'execution d'un
trop grand et trop important ouvrage.' He
feared that these paltry affairs were the cause
of the final refusal.
^"
See the analysis of the doctrine in L.
Hautecoeur, Histoire de Varchitecture classique
en France, Volume IF. The reign
of
Louis
XIV,
pp. 464
et seq.
^^
The statue was ordered on 2nd Decem-
ber 1667 (Bibliotheque Nationale, ItaUan
manuscripts 2083, f. 267). The correspon-
dence on this subject is continued in
1673
(ib. f.
199).
FoUo 2083 contains numerous
letters from Colbert and Bernini, but they
are not arranged in alphabetical order. See
also Bibliotheque Nationale, Melanges Col-
bert, 164, f. 462; the letter from Bernini of
13th June 1673
speaks of the statue, is
anxious about its situation, and asks God to
grant Louis XIV good health and success in
his enterprises 'per poter finire quel puoco
che manca a questa grand opera'.
^2
V. MartinelU, op. cit.
(1953), p. 152.
CHAPTER VII
^J.
Meuvret, Les mouvemetits des prix de
1661 h lyi^ et leurs repercussions (published
by the Societe des Statistiques de Paris,
1944), p.
6.
^Journal, p. 160, 15th September 1665.
Lalanne, the editor of Chantelou, observes
(ibid, note
3)
that Colbert prophesied
rightly, because Louis XIV hved until Sep-
tember 171 5.
*
'Nous devons faire en sorte d'avoir en
France tout ce qu'il
y
a de beau en Italic.'
Colbert, Lettres (edited by Clement),
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
2^2
Volume V,
p. 290. Letter to Charles Errard,
6th September 1669.
*
FeUbien, Idee dit peintre parfait (Edition
of
1707), pp. 3, 8, 83, 24.
^
Bellori (Giov. Pietro), Le Vite de'pittori,
scultori
(1672),
Dedicatory letter to Colbert
and p. 12.
*
Blondel, Cours d'architecture (Edition of
1698), the passage on Borromini, Book II,
Chapter II, p. 250.
'
Marcel Reymond, De Michel-Ange a
Tiepolo, p. 137.
*
A. Adam, Histoire de la litteraturefrangaise
au XVII^ siecle. Volume IV, p. 397.
*
See three recent works on Racine. Ray-
mond Picard in La carriere de Jean Racine,
d'apres des documents contemporains
(1955)
has
traced the stages by which Racine rose from
humble origins to his position as a gentle-
man. He has shown that anxiety for social
success accompanied the different phases of
his work. Lucien Goldmami, in Le Dieu
cache
(1956),
suggests one hypothesis. He
explains Racine's work by the effects of
certain sociological laws, and by the spiritual
crises roused by the religious experiences of
Port-Royal. The latter has the virtue of
bringing to Ufe the quality ofthe civihzation
surrounding Classicism. In Histoire de la
litterature franâise an XVII^ siecle
(1954),
Volume IV,
pp.
277-411, A. Adam analyses
with rare feHcity the poetic character of
Iphig^ne and Phedre, and in bringing out
their humanity and tragic grandeur, makes
clear the real meaning of the works: 'Racine
has marked a moment in our culture,and
also in Europe's culture . . . the summit of
the Renaissance, the fusion of the Greek
genius and modem sensibility'
(p. 410).
^^
Nantes, Bibhotheque Nationale, Fonds
Labouchere,
672(15) f 152, the document
dissolving the partnership of LuUi and
Vigarani, dated the 24th August 1680, des-
cribes the separation as between 'Jean-
Baptiste LuUi, ecuyer, surintendant de la
musique de la Chambre du Roy, demeurant
a Paris, rue Sainte-Anne, paroisse Saint-
Roch et Charles Vigarani, ecuyer, seigneur
de Saint-Ouen, demeurant a Paris rue des
Orties, aux Galerics du Louvre.'
^^
D. Mornet, Histoire de la litterature class-
ique frangaise, p.
208.
i^MoUere,
Tartuffe, III,
3.
^'
For French Classicism the study by P.
Lavedan, published in Histoire de I'art moderne
(Cho), is essential reading.
For ecclesiastical and lay architecture, the
following should be consulted: L. Haute-
coeur, Histoire de Varchitecture classique.
Volume II, Le regne de Louis XIV. P. Lave-
dan, Histoire de Vurbanisme. Anthony Blunt,
Art and Architecture in France iôo-iyoo.
R. A. Weigert, Le style Louis XIV. B. Dori-
val. La peinture franâise. Volume I.
For Versailles: the works of P. de Nolhac,
L. Hautecoeur, P. Francastel, La sculpture de
Versailles (Paris,
1936),
the study of Fiske
Kambal, The Genesis
of the ChAteau
Neuf at
Versailles, i668-i6yi (Gazette des Beaux-
Arts,
1952).
In an interesting article P. Francastel, Ver-
sailles et Varchitecture urbaine au XVW siecle
(Annales, lo^ annee, oct.-dec.
1955,
No
4),
suggests that Versailles as planned by Le Vau
was essentially a Parisian conception, a copy
of the buildings being erected in the city by
architects employed by the great financiers
of the day. When discussing the cult of
monarchy, which played so preponderant a
role, he declares 'it was the private residence
of the king'. But it is difficult to admit that
in 1669 the days of those didactic or amorous
fetes were really past, that the King wished
to hve 'en homme moderne', and that when
he went to Versailles he did not expect
adulation. At what particular date, we may
ask, did Louis XIV begin this rather modern-
istic schizophrenia between his divinity as a
king and his preoccupations as a purely
private person?
^*
Saint-Simon, Memoires (ed. A. de Bois-
lisle). Volume XXVIII,
p.
160 et seq. The
English translation is from the Memoirs
of
M. Le Due de Saint-Simon, selected and trans-
lated by Lucy Norton (Hamish Hamilton).
^^
A. Tessier, Le genre decoratif funebre.
Esquisse d'une histoire de ses debuts en France
(Revue de I'art ancien et moderne. Volume
XLVI
[1924]
et XLVII
[1925])
is an article
which is essential reading on this point.
A brilliant lecture by Andre Chastel, Le
baroque et la mort, was read to the Third
International Congress for Humanist Studies,
held in Venice from the I5th-i8thjune
1954.
Retorica e Barocco,
p. 33,
treats the theme of
Baroque reaction to death, and the influences
of the Renaissance upon it from a wider
angle.
^^
The Protestants, too, had kept up reh-
gious ceremony where funerals were con-
cerned.
In the Bibhotheque Nationale, Estampes,
Pe 5 1
, Funcrailles du Margrave de Bareith {Bay-
reutlt) et Anspach, i^ juin i6oj, one can see
the members of the farmly wearing cowls
on top of their tall hats, and the princesses
are clothed in a sort of white scapulatory
which was to figure for some time in
Lutheran funeral rites.
Amongst the prints in the Biblioth^que
Nationale there arc some of Court mourn-
ing in Sweden during the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries.
^^
The Roman liturgy had been standard-
ized by the Missal authorized by St Pius V
in 1568. The Office for the Dead comprises
both prayers for the eternal salvation of the
deceased and consolation for those surviving.
Cf St Augustine, De cura pro mortuis gerenda,
IV, 2, 3
: 'Curatio funeris conditio sepulturae,
pompae exsequiarum magis sunt vivorum
solatio quam subsidia mortuorum.'
^*
BibUotheque Nationale, Estampes, Pe
14-15-78, Pompe funebre de Piccolimini, by
Bastiano FuUi, 'pittor senese'. Pere Menes-
trier, in his Des decorations funebres, p. 318,
suggests this was for the funeral ofthe philo-
sopher Francesco Piccolimini, but he did
not die until later, in 1604.
^^
For the funeral of Sixtus V, see BibUo-
theque Nationale, Pe 14, f 6. A. Munoz,
Roma Barocca,
pp.
24-25, for a description of
the catafalque after Baldo Caetani and re-
production.
20
Pere Menestrier, Des decorationsfunebres
pp.
1-5.
2^
Pere Menestrier, Les grdces pleurantes.
22
14,engravings by S. Leclerc of the funeral
ceremonies of the Duke of Beaufort (both
in Rome and Paris) and that of the Chancel-
lor Seguier. M. Weigert, in Jean I Berain,
p. 27,
puts forward the theory that Gissey,
w^ho wras then preoccupied with prepara-
tions for Queen Henrietta Maria's funeral,
delegated the design ofa cenotaph for Beau-
fort to Berain, who thus first came to notice.
23
In the letters of Madame de Sevigne,
one dated 6th May 1672 has a remarkable
commentary on the funeral of Seguier. 'The
decoration was the most beautiful that one
could imagine. . . . Nothing so magnificent
and so well conceived has ever been seen;
it is Le Brim's masterpiece. . . . The music
was fine beyond expression. Baptiste (LulU)
exerted his utmost effort, and was assisted by
all the King's musicians. There wâs an addi-
tion made to that fine Miserere and there
was a Libera w^hich filled the eyes of the
whole assembly with tears; I can scarce con-
ceive that there can be heard in Heaven a
nobler harmony.'
^*
For Turenne's funeral ceremony, see
14,
NOTES
and the Uttlc book by Menestrier, Les Verlus
273
chrestiennes et les Vertus inilitaires en deuil,
dessein de Vappareil funebre dressi par ordre du
Roy dans Veglise ND de Paris le
g
septembre
iGj^, 'a Paris chcz Esticnne Michalct, Rue
Saint-Jacques \ I'image de Saint-Paul, 1675*.
2^
14,
f
74,
Pompe funebre de la reine Marie-
Therese.
**
Menestrier, op. cit.,
p.
i.
2'
If their views were ignored as far as the
ceremony at Notre Dame was concerned,
Sainctot, who was the Master of Ceremonies
at Saint-Denis, where the burial took place,
welcomed them. The theme chosen was the
reception of the corpse by the church, and
the welcome given to the soul by the saints
of the royal house of France.
The manuscript ofwhat Menestrier intended
to pubUsh about the burial of the Queen at
Saint-Denis is also to be found at the BibUo-
theque Nationale, Dcpartement des Manu-
scrits, Ve Colbert 142, f 80.
28
Menestrier, op. cit.,
p. 60.
29
14;
a very beautiful engraving by DoUvar
of the funeral of the Prince of Conde in
Notre Dame on loth March 1687. It has
been often reproduced.
^^
The coUection of prints in the Biblio-
theque Nationale, Pe 14 and
15, has some
beautiful prints of funerals in France and
other countries dating from the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries. There is that of
Queen Christina in Rome (Pe 14 and
15),
and that of the Spanish Queen at Notre
Dame in the same year, etc. The cenotaph
erected for the Dauphin (the Duke of Bur-
gundy) at the Dauphine (Gissey; Pe
14,
f 62) ushers in a transitional age where
elements of Rococo begin to appear. In con-
trast to this there is the cenotaph erected for
the funeral of Pliilip V of Spain in 1746,
the
work of Slodtz (Pe 14, P 29,
has an engrav-
ing of it by C. N. Cochin fils), which seems
to revert to traditional Baroque. Looking
through PortfoUo 15 one can see, about
1760, a neo-classicism taking shape. Sym-
boUc figures disappear and are replaced by
motifs which have no reUgious significance,
such as the pikes which decorate the ceno-
taph of Louis XV at Saint-Denis (i774)-
^^
The basic work is that by
J.
Braun, Das
Christliche Altar in seiner geschichticUai En-
twickhmg (Munich,
1924),
where there is a
good study of the opposing styles of the
reredoses of the high altar and the smaller
reredoses in the form of a smaU chapel,
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
274 P*
4- ^^ France a remarkable type of a
triumphal reredos is that of the high altar in
the cathedral of St Etienne at Toulouse. But
one must bear in mind that it may have been
divided into three parts to fit in with the
curve of the polygonal choir where it is
placed.
^2
Examples at Commana (Finistere), and
at Bouin (Vendee).
*^J.
B. Thiers (curate of Champrond),
Dissertations ecclesiastiqites sur les principaux
autels, lesjubes (Paris, i688).
**
L. Hautecoeur, Histoire de Varchitecture
classique en France, Volume II, Le regne de
Louis XIV,
p. 807.
'^
It would be necessary in the case of
every reredos to search out the contract.
Many of these have been pubUshed by C.
Port as notes to his Artistes angeuins. The
design submitted by the artist and accepted
by his chent wâs described in the contracts
with meticulous detail. The choice offigures,
whether for an altarpiece or a reredos, natur-
ally lay with the client.
^*
C. Port in Artistes angevins
(1881),
in
his foreword,
p. 11, recalls the mutilation of
churches which had taken place even at
the time he was compiling his collection.
Since then (more than seventy-five years)
this vandalism, either through ignorance or
stupidity, has made further inroads. Images
of St Anthony of Padua or St Teresa of
Lisieux have usurped the place of earlier
saints, and whole reredoses have been des-
troyed in the mania for restoration, or so-
called restoration.
^'
See the study by R. P. Fidele Durieux,
a Franciscan, Trois retables franciscains du
Perigord, with introduction and photographs
by M.Jean Saret (Pcrigueux,
1953).
^^
G. Schreiber, Deutschland und Spanien
(Diisseldorf,
1936), pp.
178 et seq.
^^
Two examples noted in this province:
in the church of St Nicolas at Chateaubriant
(Loire-Atlantique), which was reconstructed
in the nineteenth century, there is a seven-
teenth-century picture of St Isidore in one
of the aisles. In the church at CHon (Loire-
Atlantique), there is a modern statue of St
Isidore in this ancient church, which might
well have had a reredos of the seventeenth
century, which was embeUished with a sta-
tue of him that has now disappeared.
*"
G. Schrieber, op. cit.
*i
C. Port, op. cit.,
p. 13.
*^
There are many examples of this. Very
often God the Father and the Holy Ghost
are placed above a figure of the Virgin and
Child. C. Port, op. cit.,
p.
66.
*'
The statue of a saint not easily identi-
fied which may have come from a reredos
in the monastery. The resemblance to Anne
of Austria in Guillain's statue is most strik-
ing (St John de Bere at Chateaubriant,
Loire-Atlantique). The iconography of
Sarge has been noticed by L. Hautecoeur,
op. cit.,
p. 808. There is room for a study of
how^ in the seventeenth century and even
later St Louis was often represented by por-
traits of Louis XIII. At La Chaize-Giraud
(Vendee), a clumsy nineteenth-century copy
of a seventeenth-century picture shows St
Louis venerating the True Cross; he is clad
in royal robes and has the features of Louis
XIII (painter unknown). At Rio de Janeiro
in the church of Sao Francisco de la Peni-
tencia, wê find St Louis honoured because
of his connection with the Third Order of
the Franciscans, again represented by the
conventional figure of Louis XIII with long
hair, moustached and royal. But Louis XIII
himselffmds a place in Marian iconography.
Cf the interesting and very credible sugges-
tion made by M.
J.
Vanuxem about the
fresco in the church at Zwiefalten in Swabia,
which he thinks shows Louis XIII taking the
oath (Congres archeologique de France,
CV Session),
p. 223.
"
St Matthew, III,
17;
St Mark, I, ii; St
Luke, III, 22.
*^
BibUotheque Nationale, Estampes, Hd
I. Miscellaneous collection
of
ecclesiastical build-
ings and altars . . . etc., by
J.
Lepautre, con-
tains the prints from the collections pub-
lished by Poilly, Jollain, Mariette.
Hd
5,
J.
Barbet, Le livre d'architecture d'autels
et cheminees, dedicated to Mgr I'Eminentis-
sime Cardinal Due de Richelieu, invented
and draw^n by
J.
Barbet, engraved 'a I'eau
forte' by A. Bosse (Paris,
1633).
Hd 30a, the work of Abraham Bosse, in four
volumes, classified according to the cata-
logue of G. Duplessis.
*^
The work of Abraham Bosse, Volume
II,
p. 343.
The reredos of the Assumption.
The posture of the angel is seen in a reredos
of the Descent from the Cross by
J.
Lepautre
(Mariette collection, f
5).
*'
Without going into the subject ex-
haustively, the question is whether these
reredoses, like those at Gildas-des-Bois
(Loire-Atlantique) and at Lanouee (Mor-
bihan), date from the eighteenth century.
Cf M. Giraud-Mangin, Les objets classes en
Loire-Inferieure (Bulletin de la societe archeo-
logique de la Loire-Inferieure,
1938), and
G. Duhem, Les eglises de France; Morbihan,
p. 83.
J.
M. Richard, Notes sur quelques artistes laval-
lois du dix-septii'me siecle, les constructeurs de
retahles, says that it was at the beginning of
the eighteenth century that the demand for
reredoses became Umited, at least in the
region he studied. One might ask if this was
connected with the economic situation. A
change of taste seems more likely, for prices
in the West remained fairly steady. Pierre
Biardeau asked the Franciscans 6,800 livres
for his reredos (C. Port, op. cit.) in 1665.
Jean Boffrant in 1674 asked 4,000 Uvres for
the reredos at Vannes. This data wâs sup-
plied respectively by Lallemand, Les origines
historiques de la ville de Vannes, Bauchel,
Nouueau dictionnaire des architectes, and
Granges de Surgeres, Les artistes Nantais,
p. 55-
The sketch Biardeau made for the Francis-
cans is of great Baroque exuberance. Classi-
cism could offer a more economic solution,
and one should also bear that in mind.
**
On the Churrigueras, apart from the
work by Marques de Lozoya, Historia del
Arte hispanico. Volume IV, see A. Garcia
Bellido, Estudios del barroco espaiiol. Avances
para une nwnograjia de los Churriguras
(Archivu Espaiiol de Arte
y
Arqueologia),
1929, pp.
21-86, and
1930, pp. 135-187).
Jose M. Plu Dalmau, Le arquitecttira barroca
espahola
y
el Churrigueresco (Madrid,
195
1),
summary. Antonio Sancho Corbacho, Ar-
quitcctura barroca seuillana (Madrid,
1952),
gives, Planche 222, a remarkable reproduc-
tion of the reredos at Umbreto, and,
p. i,
analyses it from this nionument.
49
-\;^_
Weisbach, Die Ktmst der Barock in
Italien, Frankreich, Deutschland und Spanien
(Propylaen Kunstgeschichte,
1924),
Volume
XI, p. 56.
J.
Rousset, Circe et le Paon.
One may equally quote Gonzague de Rey-
nold, Le XVIl^ siecle, le classique et le baroque
(1944),
p. 141,
where he says: 'The mon-
archy of Louis XIV was as much Baroque
as classical. The place where they meet, and
Baroque joins with Classicism, is at Ver-
sailles.' We agree, but nevertheless it is
Classicism that finally wins in the later stages
of Versailles.
CHAPTER VIII
^
M. Whinney and O. Millar, English Art
1625-1715,
Volume VII of The Oxford His-
tory
of
English Art (London,
1957).
NOTES
J.
Summcrson, Architecture in Britain
1530-
27 S
iS'ô (London,
1953).
F. Saxl and R. Wittkowcr, British Art and
the Mediterranean (194S). This is a most im-
portant book in which the affinity of English
and continental work is clearly shown in the
superb illustrations.
Dutton, The Age
of
Wren (London,
1951).
^
On Inigo Jones, the excellent chapter by
Margaret Whinney, the articles of the Italian
Encyclopaedia and the work by
J.
A. Gotch,
Inigo
Jones (1928).
'
Almost unique. In fact the interior of
the Queen's House, which was arranged in
accordance with Henrietta Maria's wishes,
shows a predominately French taste. But it
should be added that Inigo Jones not only
knew Italy, but also France. His stay there
had largely been spent in studying domestic
architecture and the layout of rooms in
private houses.
*
The relevant dates are: The Queen's
House, 1616-35; Whitehall Palace, 1619-22;
The Queen's Chapel, 1627. This chapel was
to be given over to the Roman Cathohc rite
for the Infanta whom Charles, as Prince of
Wales, was expected to marry, but later
his fate was to marry a 'Roman'it was

finished and put in order for Henrietta
Maria, and later still was used by another
CathoUc queen, Catherine of Braganza.
*
Colin Campbell, Vitrnvius Britannicus,
Preface. Cf infra p. 187.
*
Peachan, The Complcat Gentleman
(1622).
"
Bibliotheque Nationale, Italian manu-
scripts. No. 2082, P
37.
Letter of Queen
Henrietta to the Cavaliere Beniini, in
French, dated from Whitehall, 26th June
1639-
*
Whinney, op. cit.,
p. 269.
*
The rebuilding of the Palace at White-
hall left a free hand to the architect, because
everything (except for the miraculous escape
of the Banqueting Hall) had been burnt to
the ground in the fire of 1698. The problem
was a constant challenge to Enghsh archi-
tects, Inigo Jones, Webb (who drew up
several plans), and later on Wren himself.
They had to build an immense palace stretch-
ing from the Thames to St James's Park, to
give articulation to the building and relate
the wings that spread out to the end pax-i-
lions to a central motif The designs show
how the Renaissance formula, where each
element was self-contained, was superseded
by the Baroque conception of fusing the
parts into one whole.
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
276
^
In the plan of Inigo Jones, the towers
encirchng the Gate of Honour are curiously
evocative of the toviêrs of the Tudor style.
^^
Saxl and Wittkower, British Art and the
Mediterranean,
p. 52. But M. Whinney, op.
cit.
p. 77,
stresses the almost servile Hkeness
to the work of Vandyck. This is of Httle im-
portance in itself, but is of interest to us in
showing that the revolutionaries accepted
the taste of the late Court circles.
^^John Amos Komensk^ (or Comenius)
wâs a Czech reformer who belonged to the
Moravian Brethren of w^hich he became a
bishop. For the sake of his church rather
than for any consideration ofpersonal safety
he sought foreign patronage in the Pro-
testant circles in Hungary, Germany, the
Netherlands and England. He was a prolific
writer on philosophy, though much of his
wôrk is concerned with methods of educa-
tion.
13
On Wren: G. F. Webb, Sir Christopher
Wren
(1937),
and the works (aheady cited)
of Summerson, Dutton and Whinney.
1*
For St Paul's, in addition to works
already quoted. The Pictorial History
of
St
PauVs Cathedral, by the Rev W. M. Atkins.
This work is the official record. It should
be remembered how^ many difficulties wêre
put in Wren's way during the construction
of St Paul's, his disinterested and unsparing
devotion to his work, the brutal decision of
Parhament in 1697 to reduce his already
meagre salary to
;^200 per annum in order
to make him work more quickly, his dis-
grace in
1
71
8,
even though the cathedral
had already been completed six years pre-
viously, and his love for his greatest master-
piece. Wren died in
1723,
over ninety years
old.
^^
In addition to the plates of Palladio,
Scamozzi, Vignola and SerUo, Wren would
have been able to draw upon II nuovo teatro
della fahriche di Roma (published by C. B.
Falda in Rome in
1665); L'architecture fran-
gaise by
J.
Marot
(1670),
and the Recueil des
plans, projils et elevations
(1660-70); and,
later on, the work by Carlo Fontana, II
tiempo vaticano e sue origine
(1694).
1*
A. Pichot, DM, Voyage historique et
litteraire en Angleterre et en Ecosse (Ladvocat,
Paris, 1825), Volume I,
p. 88.
1'
Such as Fischer von Erlach, whose stay
in London would merit a special study.
^
This was not the smoke of factories but
the smoke from domestic hearths which,
given London's climate, turned mist into
dense fog.
1*
Vide the transept at the Redentore,
built by Palladio, and, also in Venice, the
elongated choir beyond the ambulatory of
the octagon.
^"
Vitruvius Britannicus, Volume I, Preface.
^1
Some most interesting remarks about
this are made by EHsabeth and Weyland
Young in the introduction
(p. 50)
to their
book Old London Churches.
CHAPTER IX
1
Ferdinand Peroutka, Jaci Jsme (Which
we are) (Prague,
1924), p. 113.
^
Perhaps Prince Eugen, apart from his
mihtary feats, did play a part in politics im-
portant enough to warrant coupling his
name with these great statesmen. Apart from
the old but stiU essential biography by Alfred
von Arneth, Prinz Eugen von Savoyen (1858-
64), 3
volumes, there are the works of Max
Braubach, Prinz Eugen von Savoyen (His-
torische Zeitschrift,
154,
I,
1936)
and the
interesting sketches of the great German
collections: O. Redhch, Prinz Eugen in
Menschen, die Geschichte machten, II
(193
1);
W. Schussler, Prinz Eugen von Savoyen in
Meister der Politik, Volume II (Stuttgart,
1922); R. Lorenz, Prinz Eugen von Savoyen
in Die Crosse Deutschen, Neue Deutsche Bio-
graphic, Volume II
(1935);
and Niedermeier,
Prinz Eugen in seinem Verhdltnis zur Kultur
seiner Zeit in Historisches Jahrhuch, LIV,
4
(1934).
3
Many studies have recently been pub-
hshed about the evolution of the great estate
in Bohemia by M. Alois Mika (Cf infra,
note
14).
The work of Otto Placht, Lidnatost a
spolecenskd skladba ceskeho statu v 16-18 stoleti
(Prague,
1957)
(the population and the
composition of society in the Czech state
from the sixteenth to the eighteenth cen-
tury), renews the views on the bourgeoisie
in the seignorial towns.
*
O. Redlich, Uher Kunst tind Kultur des
Barocks in Ostterreich (AOG 115 Bd
1943),
pp. 331-79. W. Pinder, Deutscher Barock-
Konigstein im Taunus
(1953).
On Austrian
civiHzation, see A. Tibal, L'Autrichien (Paris,
Berger-Levrault,
1936),
and more parti-
cularly on Baroque architecture in Austria,
Ann Tizia Leitich, Vienna Gloriosa, Welt-
stadt des Barocks (Vienna,
1944),
and Bruno
Grimschitz, Wiener Barock Palaste (Wiener
Verlag,
1947)
(Institut fiir Denkmalpflege).
*
Fehbien, Idee du peintre parfait (1707
ed.),
p. 83.
*
Z. Kalista, Mlddi Humprechtajana Cerni-
tia-Chudenic, Zrozeni barokniko kaualira (The
Youth of Humbert-Jean Ccniin-Chudenic,
the Formation ofa Baroque Knight) (Prague,
1932), pp.
168 et seq.
'
There is a legend that this picture (now
in the Prague museum) was carried to the
city to avoid the jolting of sending it by
coach.
*
This material was accidentally burnt and
in its place the present canopy was erected,
which hardly conceals the fact that the
church here was never completed.
*
Z. Kalista, op. cit.. Volume II,
p. 86,
quotes a contemporary, Th. Ameyden,
Diairio dclla Citta e Corte di Roma
(1646),
who speaks of a 'bella machina per esporre
il Santmo all'oratione delle 40 hore, la cui
esphcatione questi Padri fecero mettere in
stampa'.
^
Emmanuel Poche, an excellent Czech
art historian, rejects the idea that Baroque
in Bohemia was so bound up with the
Counter-Reformation that it only started
then. He fmds that at the beginning of the
eighteenth century there is, both in ecclesi-
astical and lay buildings, a feeling for
Baroque and claims that both the Emperor
Mathias's porch {Ceskoshvenskd Vlastiveda,
Umeni,
p. 122) and that of the church of
Panna Maria Vitezna {Prazske portdly. The
porches in Prague
[1947], p. 27)
should be
reckoned as Baroque. These one might
equally well consider as belated Renaissance.
1^
There is a very considerable number
of historical studies of Wallenstein and it
is not necessary to give here a bibliography,
though it should be said that Josef Pekaf
contributed an outstanding essay, Valdstejn
{i6jo-i6j4). Dejiny valdstejnskeho spiknuti
(Wallenstein from 1630 to 1634. History of
the Conspiracy) (Prague,
1934),
German
translation 1936.
^^'
Karl M. Swoboda, Prag (Deutscher
Kimstverlag, Berlin, n.d.),
p. 86, draws our
attention to the stay Andrea Spezza made
in the Duchy of Oldenbourg before coming
to Prague. This work was published during
the German occupation of Czechoslovakia
from
1939
to
1945,
and though interesting
and illuminating, continually shows traces
of overstressing German influences.
For the Wallenstein palace, see Doha Bclo-
horskd a Albrecht Valdstejna (The Time ofthe
White Mountain and Wallenstein) (Prague,
1934),
in the collection of lectures published
on the occasion of the tercentenary of the
conspiracy, and the study by Zdenek Wirth,
Valdstejn a soticdsnc umhil (Wallenstein and
NOTES
the Art of His Time),
pp. 173-192, with
277
bibhography.
There is a good analysis of Wallcnstcin's
palace and an illustration in Alois Kubidck,
Les Palais de Prajûe (French edition, Prague,
V. Polacek,
1947).
"
Zdenek Wirth (op. cit.,
p. 182) proves
a resemblance between the arches of this
loggia and the Palazzo del Tc ct Mantua,
and between the interior decorations and
that of the Villa Madama in Rome.
For Czech art of the seventeenth century as
a whole, the eighth volume UmM (Art) in
Ceskoshvenskd Vlastiveda (the Czechoslo-
vakian encyclopaedia), written by the art
historians Matejcek and Poche, with
(p. 206)
a bibliography on Baroque is indispensable.
There is also Zdenek Wirth, Vart tchleco-
slovaquc de I'antiquite a nos jours (French
edition, Prague, Vesmir,
1939),
and Jakub
Pavel, Dejiny naseho umeni (The History of
our Art) (Prague, Unie,
1947).
^*
For an overall history of Austria the
book by K. and M. Uhlirz, Handbuch der
Geschichte Osterreichs und seiner Nachbarldnder
Bohmen und Ungarn (Vienna,
1949
edition),
presents a short expose and an invaluable
bibliography.
The difficulty ofw^riting a history of Austria
is that, if the picture is to be complete, works
in little-known languages, such as Hun-
garian, Czech and Serbo-Croat, must be
consulted. The most important general his-
tories of tliis period are: O. RedHch, Oster-
reichs Grossmachtbildung in der Zcit Leopolds I
(Volume I ofGeschichte Osterreichs by Huber-
RedUch, Gotha, 1921), and Hugo Hantsch,
Die Geschichte Osterreichs, 2 volumes (Vienna,
1947-50). Czech historians have contributed
much to the study of the great estates and
rural society, wdthout which one cannot
imderstand the development of Baroque
culture.
J.
Pekaf, Kniha Kosti.
Kamil Krofta, Dejiny selskeho stavu (History
of the Peasant Condition) (Prague, 1919,
2nd edition,
1949).
These are works of the Liberal historical
school. After the second war, the Marxist
school has shown interest in these problems.
It is enough to draw attention to the im-
portance of the articles which Alois Mika
has contributed to the review Ceskoslovcnsky
Casopis Historicky, on the economic aspects
of the great estates and the exploitation of
the great fenlands in northern Bohemia
(1954)
and the debates berween him and
another Marxist historian, M. Valka (195S).
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
278
"
Otto Placht, op. cit.
^*
The first interpretation mentioned links
up with the work of the great historian and
politician Palacky, 1798-1876, whose His-
tory of
the Czech People in Bohemia and
Moravia did not extend to the seventeenth
century. It was published both in German
and Czech in 1848. The thread that holds
the story together is the opposition of the
peace-loving Slav to the belUcose German.
The teaching of the Hussites is recognized
as the purest expression ofthe native spiritual
genius. The general line adopted can only
lead to a suspicion of Baroque civilization
which was bom after the defeat of 1620.
This thesis is also repeated by the French
historian Ernest Denis, 1849-1921, in La
Bohime depuis la Montagne Blanche, Volume I
(2nd ed., 1930). Baroque art is most severely
condemned on ideological grounds,
pp. 246
et seq, and particularly on p. 279. The
interpretation of history w^hich Professor
Masaryk, later to become the founder and
president of Czechoslovakia, held regarding
the Czechs and the Slovaks was always
dominated by a Hussite idealism. It was this
that led to the scientific quarrels, always
conducted with the greatest courtesy, be-
tween him and Josef Pekaf (1870-1937).
Pekaf w^rote Kniha Kosti (The book of
Kost) (191 1, 2nd edition
1935),
and some
suggestive articles about the White Moun-
tain and St John Nepomuk. Flis view^ wâs
that Baroque civiHzation had helped the
peasant population to regain their tradi-
tional beliefs. Interest in Baroque was also
show^n by w^riters and artists during the last
years of the nineteenth and first years of the
twentieth centuries (Julius Zeyer, Milos
Marten, the groups ofreviews Moderni Revue
and Akkord, Ame Novak, Mile Zdenka
Braunerova), and then by the art historians
Matejcek and Birnbaum. One can under-
stand that afterwards it wâs impossible to
turn a blind eye to the advent of Baroque in
Bohemia, and a third interpretation of the
phenomenon has been put forward by the
gifted writer Jaromir Neumann in his recent
book about seventeenth-century painting in
Bohemia, Malifstvi XVII^ stoleti v Cechdch
(Seventeenth-century painting in Bohemia)
(Orbis,
1953)-
^'
BetAveen 1918 and 1936 there have been
many publications in Czechoslovakia about
Baroque art and Hterature. One of the most
original is JosefVasica's Ceske literdrni baroko:
pfispevky k jeho studiu (Czech Baroque
Literature: Contributions to its Study)
(Prague, 1938). It is not so much a synthesis
as a series of studies of detailed but revealing
points. One already knew^ about the Jesuit
Bohuslav Balbin, 1621-88, who had pub-
Ushed an apologia for Czech language in
Latin, for Ernest Denis had written about
him at length in La Boheme apres la Montagne
Blanche, Volume I,
p. 371. But one wâs
utterly ignorant oftheJesuit Bedfich (Freder-
ick) Bridel, 1619-80, until Vasica revealed
this extraordinary mana mixture of mis-
sionary, translator and inspired poet of
German Baroque.
After the war, Albert Prazak published a
compendium of how the Czech language
had survived throughout the vicissitudes of
history, Ndrod se branil (The Nation De-
fended Itself) (Prague, Sfinx ed.,
1945),
in
which there is one long and learned chapter,
Od Bile Hory po Balbina (From the White
Mountain to Balbin), in which,
pp. 48-85,
the Baroque period is considered and Bal-
bin's Apologia are analysed.
J.
Pekaf, in his
Bild Hora, 1921, has w^ritten a sketch of Hfe
in Bohemia in the seventeenth century,
which embodies the results of his researches
and studies at the University of Prague.
"J.
Pekaf, Bild Hora,
p.
108.
The allusion to the famous novel by B.
Nemcova, Babicka (The Grandmother),
which was published in 1855. For over a
century, and even now^, this retains its popu-
larity as well as being favoured by the
authorities. But better than giving a page
reference, let us translate this passage by
Pekaf. 'Baroque brought with it a strong
element of civilization. This did not only
consist of the artistic riches with which it
fdled the country and revealed a new feeling
for beauty, for Baroque dominated archi-
tecture, painting, music and peasant arts
and crafts. It is found again in the feelings
and deep religious emotion which the
Marian cult transformed into a fervency
equal to that at the dawn of the Hussite
movement. Baroque, by its buildings and
by the innumerable statuesespecially those
of the popular new saint, St John Nepomuk
has left an indehble impression on the
Czech landscape. It has left its mark on every
aspect of popular hfe; its customs, its cos-
tumes, its songs and even its philosophy of
Hfe. Indeed it eventually formed this rural
wôrld, with its own particular soul, the
world of Babicka, w^here wê recognize
sometliing that is authentically Czech, from
which later generations of our nation are
descended.'
"
Bruno Grimschitz, Wiener Barock Palaste
(Vienna Verlag,
1947)
(Institut fUr Dcnk-
malpflege) and the guide to the Dchio col-
lection, which is full of information: Wien,
by Justus Schmidt and Hans Tictze (4th
edition,
1954).
Geschichte der Stadt Wien,
8 volumes (Vienna,
1897-1918).
"^^
On Prince Karl-Eusebius de Liechten-
stein and his treatise on architecture. Das
Werk dcs Architektt4rs, c Bruno Grimschitz,
op. cit., who has a very interesting preface,
from which are borrowed the details given
above.
Viktor Fleischer, Fiirst Karl-Eusebius von
Liechtenstein als Bauherr und Kunstsammler
1611-84 (1910).
On the period of Leopold I, besides the in-
formation given by the excellent picture of
O. Redhch, Osterreichs Grossmachtbildung in
der Zeit Leopolds I, Gotha, 1921, see: A.
Wandruszka, Das Haus Hahshurg (Vienna,
1956).
On music: Encyclopedic de la musique, by A.
Lavignac, I partie, Histoire de la musique,
Italie, Allemagne (Paris,
191 3).
*^
H. Hassingcr,
J
ohannJoachim Becher, ein
Beitrag zur Geschichte des Merkantilismus
(Vierma,
195 1),
and the works of Becher
himself {Politischen Discurs). Might I be per-
mitted to refer readers wanting further de-
tails to the course of lectures I held at the
Sorbonne in
1957-58, which the Centre de
Documentation Universitaire
(5
Place de la
Sorbonne) issued in two pamphlets in 1958.
"^
Abraham a Sancta Clara; Sammtliche
Werke, Passau, Volume I, Prophetische
Wilkommen
(1676).
^*
Casimir Freschot, Remarques historiques
et critiques d'un voyage d'ltalie en Hollande
dans I'annee
1^04, p. 136.
CHAPTER X
^
Bibliotheque Nationale, Estampes, Pd^.
Print representing the triumph of the Em-
peror Leopold.
^
A good example of this state of mind is
found in the correspondence between Prince
Ferdinand Schwarzenberg, 1652-1703, and
his bailiffs. Amongst the aristocratic society
of his time he stands out as one of the best
administrators, wishing to put in order his
possessions in the Empire, at Vienna, in
Styria and in Bohemia, so that he might
leave a fortune to his ten children (Antonin
Markus, Scliii'arzenberskd rocenka
[1935].
Otto Placht, op. cit.,
p. 234. In nineteen
years he had increased the value ofthe family
estates from
976,213
thalers to
2,194,196.)
NOTES
Two letters from him, published in the thir-
teenth volume of the Bohemian archive?
(Archiv Ccsky) offer an excellent illustra-
tion of the 'paternal' outlook. They arc
written in German, interspersed with Latin
expressions.
To Siebert.
Dear Captain, from your letter of
20th October last year, it has been drawn
to my attention that you consider you
might authorize the son of the brewer,
subject of this place, to continue with
his studies, since his presence is not ac-
tually necessary in my chancery. But it
must already have been brought to your
notice how very few of these young
men succeed since the majority do no
good and end up by taking Holy Orders
ex taedio laborum. If one could find the
young boy some clerical work it would
be best, for if he has nothijig to do, it is
likely to spoil him, rather than improve
him. Generally, it is best that the child-
ren of artisans of this class, once they
have learnt to read and write, should be
employed from their youth ad profes-
sionem parentum, at least where they can
be useful, and give up their studies.
This you may take pro maxima gene-
rali, and not only in Wittingau, but
everywhere else as well.
Vienna, 17th January 1693.
Ferdinand,
Prince of Schwarzenberg m.p.
To Hofiinger.
Dear Captain, I have decided to agree
to the authorization (dismissoriales)
vi^hich has been asked for by a Johannes
Korbel, a young dependant of the vil-
lage of Suchental, who has finished his
studies in the humanities at Neuhaus
and wishes to take a course in philo-
sophy, because he desires to embrace a
religious Ufe (from what he told me he
should be accepted as a novice in the
monastery of Zwetel) or at least receive
die majores ordiites pro saardotio.
But you should also recall, what has
been pointed out more than once, that
one should not let the children ofdepen-
dants devote themselves to studies, but
(what is much better for them and for
the estate) to agriculture or at least some
craft. I herewith repeat this ordinance
yet again. You must keep a firm hand
on such applications in your pro\-ince,
when you hold the orphans' assemblies
279
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
280
(^)
or the courts of Justice or other
meetings, so that if one or other of the
young dependants has gone off to study
^no matter wherethe parents or rela-

tions of the student can take care that
the student returns at once and is kept
on the estate.
Vienna, 17th December 1698.
Ferdinand,
Prince of Schwarzenberg, m.p.
(a) The orphans' assembhes was the name
given to the inspection of the young peasant
children, which was carried out by the bailiff
ofthe estate. The term originally referred to
the orphans which the lord of the manor
had adopted, but gradually it wâs extended
to all the youth, so that the baihff could
check on their ages, state of health, and skill
in any particular work.
^
In Vienna Prince Eugene commissioned
Fischer von Erlach to build the palace in the
Himmelpfortegasse, where the interior de-
corations were as magnificent as the archi-
tecture; outside the city he asked Hildebrandt
for plans for the Belvedere; he later added
the Little Belvedere, which today houses the
Baroque Museum.
*
A. Tibal, VAutrichien.
In his book Barock in Ungarn, which enables
us to follow the Baroque movement in Hun-
gary, Andreas Angyal makes this very fair
and just comment: 'One may often hurl re-
proaches at the Hungarian aristocracy, but
one thing is certain, that it created round it
an atmosphere of the highest way of hving,
an atmosphere in which noble and fine
minds will always feel at home.'
*
A recent article by Tat'ana Kubatova in
the Czech periodical Uitieni (IV^,
1956)
ques-
tions the attribution of the palace at Slavkov
to MartineUi. He may have furnished the
original plans, but his more classical outlook
(cf his masterpiece, the Liechtenstein Palace
in Vienna) is not found at Slavkov. The
author of this article justly observes: 'The
important Baroque buildings were very sel-
dom completed according to the original
plans and in the course ofconstruction some-
times the Baroque characteristics and some-
times the classical ones were arraigned or
preferred, which is an argument against there
being a profound or irreconcilable opposi-
tion between the two styles.'
*
On the University Church, see the
monograph by Bruno Grimschitz, Univer-
sitdtskirche
(1938,
corrected edition
1956),
and the article by Patzak, Andrea del Pozzo,
Umbau der Wiener Uniuersitdtskirche (Zeit-
schrift fiir christhche Kunst, XXDC,
1916),
p.
22.
'
On Fischer von Erlach, the great work
by H. Sedlmayr.
On Prandtauer, whose portrait is kept in the
Abbey of Melk, H. Hantsch, Jakob Prandt-
auer (Vienna, 1926).
*
H. Sedlmayr, Fischer von Erlach,
pp. 36
and 40.
*
Greger, Karlskirche
(1934).
Hans Sedl-
mayr, Allegorie und Architektur,
p. 197,
in
Retorica e Barocco (Atti del III Congresso
Intemazionale di Studi Umanistici Venezia
15-18 Giugno
1954)
(1955), analyses theaUe-
gorical aspects of the columns: constancy
and power, in short the virtues of St Charles
and of the Emperor, but the columns of
Hercules also recall the claim against Spain.
The fa9ade of the chapels of the Karlskirche
remind one of the porticoes of the Salute.
1"
Monograph on Melk by Dr P. Regi-
nald, OSB
(1957).
^^
One should remember in this connec-
tion the importance ofthe organs in Austrian
Baroque churches, where as much care was
taken to procure a fine instrument as to
decorate the organ case and loft. Hans Sedl-
mayr (op. cit., p. 62) also insists upon the
connection between Fischer von Erlach's
Baroque and music.
^2
There is a very suggestive study by
Hermann Weidhaas, West-Ostliche Bezie-
hungen in der Baugeschichte des ly und iSJahr-
hunderts, in (WeissenschaftHche Zeitschrift des
Hochschule fiir Architektur und Baurwersen
Weimar III. Jahrgang, 1955-56, No
2),
pp.
75-147-
^*
Poche, Ceskoslouenskd Vlastiveda, op.
cit., p. 130.
^*
Melk is 65 metres long, and the height
of the cupola is 64 metres. St Nicolas in
Mala Strana at Prague is 62 metres long,
26 metres wide and the height of the cupola
is
79
metres.
^^
A special study should be written about
St Nicolas in Mala Strana, which is now
being restored with great faith by the
Administration of The Fine Arts of the
Czechoslovak Republic. The beautiful fresco
by Kracker of the Glory
of
St Nicolas is once
more visible. Furthermore the decorations
of the side-chapels, with St Michael and St
Carlo Borromeo, Jesuit saints who might
intercede against illness and the plague, is a
typical example of eighteenth century
hagiology.
^*
The work by Angyal, Barock in Ungarn,
enables us to follow the spread of tliis civili-
zation, first in the royalistic and Catholic
Hungary of the seventeenth century, and
then, after the reconquest and pacification
(1686-1711), throughout the whole country,
where the cult of the Regnum Marianum
tended to unify Hungary as a land under the
special protection of the Virgin, which had
also been the case in Poland and France.
The same Italian and German artists were
employed in the Kingdom of Hungary as in
the Hereditary Lands, but they were simul-
taneously interpreters of local as well as
general devotional needs. Angyal calls St
John
Nepomuk
(p. 71)
'the most beloved
saint of Hapsburg Baroque'. This is doubt-
less so, in the sense we have pointed out, but
the cult of St John Nepomuk is in a way a
projection of Czech Baroque upon the
Baroque in the Hapsburg lands.
1'
Hans Werner Hegemann, Deutsches
Rokoko (1956
edition),
p. 9.
^8
O.
J.
Blaezicek, Prazskd Plastika raneho
rokoko (The plastic quaUty of the Rococo at
Prague), p. 19.
^*
The expression 'anachronique civilisa-
tion fonci^re' is by E. Labrousse, Le XVIII^
siecle (PUF,
1953), p. 521.
On the pohtics of Joseph II, there are the
general and already old works of P. von
Mitrofanov, Joseph II PoUtische und Kul-
turelle Tadgkeit, translated from the Russian
by von Demelic (Vienna,
1910),
2 volumes;
P. K. Padower, T]ie Revolutionary Emperor
Joseph
II, 1741-90 (London,
1934);
J.
V.
Prasek, Panovani cisafe Josefa II (The reign
of Joseph II) (Prague,
1903),
which is an
even older work, but very well-informed.
There are also Francois Fejto, Un Habsbourg
revohitionnaire, Joseph II (Plon,
1953),
with
an interesting bibHography, and Anton Mell,
Die Anfdnge der Bauernbefreiimg in Steiernmrk
unter Maria Theresia und Joseph II (Gratz-
Styria).
Two works about Josepliism are by E.
Winter: Taiisend Jahre Geistcskampf iin
Sudetenraiim (Leipzig,
1938),
and Derjoseji-
nismus und seine Gcschichte, Bcitrdge znr Geis-
tesgeschichte Osterreichs, 1^40-1848
(Brunn,
1943)-
There is also an article by Roger Bauer, Le
Josephisme (Critique,
July, 1958),
who states
the position of the studies on this question.
CHAPTER XI
^
Peter Skarga, who was bom at Grojec
in 1536 and died in Cracow in 1612, after
fulfilling the duties of a curate, and then of
NOTES
a canon at Lwow, went to stay in Rome,
where he entered the Company ofJesus. He
was the first rector ofthe Academy at Wilno,
which had been founded by King Sigismund
Bathory; he then settled down in Cracow
where he was renowned as professor, prea-
cher and prosclytizcr. In his sermons he
frequently alluded to the political dangers
which he thought were threatening Poland.
'As our bodies die from internal maladies or
external accidents, so may kingdoms carry
within themselves illnesses that may lead to
their death. None of you, puissant lords, are
so simple as not to recognize the grave and
dangerous maladies of our kingdom and not
to perceive at the same time the enemy out-
side who begrudges our existence and
threatens us with a terrible attack.'
On the other hand, during the Time of the
Troubles, Poland, who had already en-
couraged the pretender Dimitri (1606), in-
vaded Russia as far as the environs of Mos-
cow (1608), and captured Smolensk, which
she held till 1667.
*
M. Jobert, the French historian and ex-
pert on PoUsh history, is preparing a book
on Poland during the crisis of Christianity
(the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries).
The general lines of this work were given
in the Bulletin de la Socicte d'Histoire Moderne
(i2th Series, No
3,
Supplement to the Revue
d'Histoire moderne et conteniporaine. No
4,
May-June 1957).
*
For all these questions, see
J.
Rutkowski,
Histoire cconomiqtie de la Pologne avant les
partages (Paris,
1927)
(Collection de I'lnstitut
d'Etudes Slaves de I'Universite de Paris),
and more especially, for the hnks ^vith the
Mediterranean, see F. Braudel, La Mediter-
ranee, p. 499.
*
Wladyslaw Tatarkiewicz, Dwa baroki,
Krakowski i Witenski (Nakladem Polskjej
Akademii Umiejetnosci, 1956),
contrasts the
older Baroque in Cracow at the end of the
sixteenth and the first half of the seventeenth
century, with that in Wilno, which dates
from the end of the seventeenth and the be-
ginning of the eighteenth century. He
stresses the part played by Italian decorators
such as Balthasar Fontana, who also worked
in Austria.
^
There is no balanced study ofthese nego-
tiations between the Poles and the Russians,
which constituted the most important aspect
of the fight carried on between the Latins
and the Orthodox in the middle of the Slav
world. The two countries were rivals poli-
tically, both vdth important territorial claims
281
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
282
against each other, but it is impossible that
these tAvo civihzations could exist side by
side without exerting a reciprocal influence.
Moreover, Ordine-Nascokine, who held
high office under Czar Alexis Mikhailovitch,
represents at about 1660, a generation that
was transitional, and, after the bitter wars
between the twô countries, he sufficiently
appreciated the superiority ofPoUsh civihza-
tion to wishnot to adopt it or submit to it
to adopt its best characteristics. These
questions wêre studied in my course of lec-
tures at the Sorbonne in
1957,
under the title
Russia from i6jg to i68g (in two parts.
Centre de Documentation,
5
Place de la
Sorbonne, Paris).
In Russian: Prof. B. KHoutchevsky, Kiirs
russkoi istorii (Course in Russian history)
(1923
edition). Volume III,
pp. 423
et seqj
Otcherki istorii CCCPPeriod feodalisma XVW
veka (Outline of Russian history, the feudal
period: the seventeenth century) under the
direction of A. A. Novosels'ky,
p.
497
(the
chapter on international relations is by A. N.
Mal'tsev).
*
Hermann Weidhaas, op. cit. (see note 12
ofpreceding chapter), traces the planning of
this type of church {Ovalraum mit Kuppell
und Doppeltiirme) since the Renaissance and
follows up how it was adopted in different
countries: Austria, Bohemia, Moravia,
Silesia, Poland and Lithuania. By citing
numerous examplesa Hst which he hopes
will be supplemented by his readershe
shows that it appears to meet the predilec-
tions of the nobility and that this cannot
only have been by chance ('Er bleibt Gen-
genstand der Vorliebe des reichen Hochadels
der habsburgischen und polonischen Lander,
und diese Vorliebe ist nicht wallos und
ziifaUig', p. 120). When he compares the
Pohsh churches of the Piaristines with that
in Kremsier (Kromefize, in Moravia) he
admits that the Piaristines no more adopted
an exclusive plan for their churches than did
the Jesuits, but points out that they never-
theless favoured this one, no doubt under
the influence of the magnates who wêre
their patrons. His analysis of the social
psychology of the nobiUty, earnest as it may
be, may call forth reservations. Is it, for
instance, quite certain that Polish aristocrats
favoured a Borrominesque style because of
the praiseworthy fact that they had a guilty
conscience predisposing them to welcome
an 'anguished' style? ('Sie brauchten darum
einen Stil wie den borrominesken Barock,
denn dieser ist ein Stil der Angst',
p. 133.)
There is no doubt that Borromini was con-
sumed by anxiety (vide supra), but it has by
no means been proved that his style betrays
this personal wôrry and that it does not, in
its deUcate grace and decoration, evoke a
quite different impression. But this is not the
right place to begin a discussion of an essay
whose chief merit seems to be in stressing
the relationship of an artistic style and its
background and to point out lines for re-
search that will certainly be fruitful.
'
P. Pascal, Avvakum et les debuts du raskol,
la crise religieuse au XVII^ Steele en Russie
(1938).
*
In Russian monasteries, which comprise
more chapels and buildings than those found
in Latin monasteries, there is usually a chapel
above the main entrance. The Russians do
not, as we do, distinguish a church from a
chapel on account of size, but whichever
sanctuary is used for the celebration of Mass
is called a church (tserkou). The wôrd for
chapel (tchasouiia) is only used for an oratory
or where one only recites the Hours. It is
due to this that, in many monasteries and
convents, there is a church (Trapeznaia
tserkov).
*
For all Russian art, one should consult
the works of Louis Reau: Vart russe des
origines ^ Pierre le Grand (Paris, 1920). L'art
russe in the collection Arts, Styles and
Techniques (Larousse).
M. V. Alpatov, Vseobscaia istoriia iskousstv
(General history of Art), Volume III (Mos-
cow,
1955).
The interpretation of Narych-
kine Baroque
(pp. 317
et seq) is particularly
penetrating.
For this chapter I have made great use of the
Russian work Rousskoie zodtchestvo (Russian
Architecture), Volume III; Pamiatniki archi-
tektury XVII^ veka (Monuments of Russian
architecture in the Seventeenth Century)
(Moscow,
1953),
with an introduction by
A. G. Tchiniakov.
A. G. Tchiniakov is also the author of the
excellent chapter on seventeenth-century
architecture ui the work entitled Otcherki
istorii CCCP, Period feodalisma XVII^ veka
(Outline of Russian History, the feudal
period: the seventeenth century) (Moscow,
1955).
^
Thus the outstanding art critic, M. A.
Il'in, in the Great Soviet Encyclopaedia {Bol-
chaia sovietskaia encyclopediia). One can fol-
low his argument well enough without
accepting his conclusion. 'Art at the end of
the seventeenth century shows close Unks
with the art of ancient Russia, from which
it evolved. It is inseparable from it. That
appears to me to be quite certain. But then
it is wrong to dcfme it as Baroque. Baroque
is the art which we find in Russia at the be-
ginning of the eighteenth century until
round about 1760.' I do not share this
opinion. At the end of the seventeenth cen-
tury there was an abundance of Renaissance
elements in Russian architecture and in its
decoration, and these elements were inter-
preted, by artists whose names we rarely
know, in a markedly Baroque manner. It
was a period of authentic Russian Baroque.
Doubtless it was able to pave the way to
success for the later style of Baroque intro-
duced by RastrelU.
^^
L. Hautecoeur, op. cit.. Volume IP,
pp.
809 and 815.
^^
To justify this argument it would be
necessary to undertake a broad review
(which is impossible here) of the poHtical,
economic and social state of Russia both
before and after Peter the Great.
The idea that art at the time of Peter the
Great represents a progress linked up with
what preceded it because it was connected
with an inevitable and progressive social
development has been advanced by the
Russian professor, F. Nedochivine, in a
work called Otcherki teorii iskoussti'a (Outline
of a Theory of Art), which is inspired by
Marxist ideology.
A study of the evolution of iconical art in
the seventeenth century before Peter the
Great has been omitted here. One would
come up against most interesting problems.
Western influence could be traced (in the
treatment of the human figure, for example,
or the sense of movement, etc), but the icon
remains a very speciaUzed study. Architec-
ture shows many more obvious traces of an
affinity with the Baroque that catch our
notice.
CHAPTER XII
^
Quoted by Louis GiUet in A. Michel,
Histoire de I'art, VIIF,
p. 1032.
*
The appearance of the neo-classical style
in Brazil, which interrupted the phase of
Borrominesquc and Rococo taste, but did
not spell its doom, can be explained by the
change of taste in Portugal, or by the de-
mand, once the colony had been taken over
by the monarchy, for foreign artists.
'
Like the little chapel of Ancliieta in
Niteroi, near Rio de Janeiro.
*
Coro is the name given to a lofty hall in
many monasteries, situated under the nath-
NOTES
rex. Here the monks congregated for the
28^
Minor Offices.
'
Louis Gillet, op. cit.,
pp. 1039 ct scq.
Juan Contreras de Lozoya, hi harroco en
el nuovo mundo, Retorica Barocco,
p. 113.
'
M. Pal Kclcmen published a fine book.
Baroque and Rococo in Latin America (Mac-
millan, New York,
195 1),
which bridges a
gap, gives us a most valuable round-up, and
will remain an indispensable basis for any
future work. The two phases which wc refer
to do not necessarily succeed one another.
When native artists were engaged in de-
corating the churches it did not mean that
designs from Europe were no longer in
demand.
*
Manuel Toussaint. Preface to the album
Imagineria colonial
Escultura colonial in
Mexico (Universitad Nacional autonoma de
Mexico, Mexico,
1941).
*
Photograph in Pal Kelemen, op. cit.,
picture 105c.
^"
Differing views about this mid-seven-
teenth-century work are those of Manuel
Toussaint, San Diego de Alcala, op. cit., fig
4;
Pal Kelemen, San Pedro de Alcantara, op.
cit.,
p.
112 and Planche
575.
^^
Manuel Toussaint, op. cit., fig
9.
*^
Edgard de Cerqueira Falcao, Reliquias
da Bahia,
1940, p. 107;
the old college of the
Jesuits; p. 190: the church ofthe Third Order
of the Franciscans.
^'
For the Portuguese talha in Brazil, see
the important chapters in the work by Ger-
main Bazin, L'architecture religieuse baroque
au Bresil, Book IV, especially
pp.
252-96.
On the churches in Rio de Janeiro, besides
the work by Paulo F. Santos, O barroco e
Jesuitico no Arquitetura do Brasil, there is that
ofLudwig Waagen, Rio deJaneiro ah Kunst-
stadt
(1940).
^*
The Jesuit church at Belem, where the
fa9ade ends up in a magnificent flourish of
two joined volutes, is placed under the pro-
tection of St Alexander.
^'
Edgard de Cerqueira Falcao, op. cit.,
p.
60. This is a clumsy piece of work, but
touching in its naivety. It is a theme often
found in Baroque iconographythe Child
Jesus playing with the instruments of the
Passion.
1*
There is a nice study by Manuel Ban-
deira, Ouro Prcto, which has been translated
into French by Marcel Simon. It shows an
intelhgent sympathy for the art of Minas
Geraes, but his archaeological notes docilely
follow the traditional interpreutions which
have now to be rexased.
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
284
^'
Germain Bazin, op. cit., resolutely
backs up the attribution of the church of
Sao Francisco de Assis to Aleijadinho, and
(pp.
194 et seq) furnishes a brilliant and
accurate description of the building. How-
ever he rejects the theses advanced by Jose
Mariano Filho in Antonio Francisco Lisboa,
Aleijadinho (Rio,
1944),
though he recog-
nizes that this is the only serious monograph
pubHshed about the artist. But he condemns
it as being bogged down in subjectivity.
The arguments ofJose Mariano Filho, which
were exposed after the debates were pub-
Hshed in the review Estudos Brasileiros (2nd
year, Volume
4,
No 10, January-February
1940),
seem to me to be convincing enough.
They may be expounded with a certain
amount of passion, for this is characteristic
of the national temperament, but his critical
reasoning carries authority. Mariano Filho
recognizes the Borrominesque character of
the churches of Minas Geraes and his sup-
position that plans for them had been sent
from Portugal is most probable. He is in-
clined to give 1750 as the date of construc-
tion of Sao Francisco and brings up the
question, without answering it, of whether
the Rosario preceded it. But these are only
speculations. On the other hand he puts for-
ward a much more weighty argument by
pointing out that wê know of no architec-
tural work by Aleijadhino before Sao Fran-
cisco de Assis and asking how he could
suddenly begin with a work of this magni-
tude. It is a knotty problem, especially if one
admits, wîth Germain Bazin himself
(p. 189)
that, firstly, the plans for the church have
disappearedin 1910 they were studied by
Furtado de Menezes, who saw the signature
of Aleijadinho; secondly, that this attribu-
tion of the plans is attested to by Bretas
(18
1 5)
even though he showed more

goodwill than critical authoritybut against
this there is 'the strange silence ofJoacquim
Jose da Silva, who was usually so well in-
formed'. Joacquim da Silva, a councillor
(uereador) of Mariana, compiled about 1760
a chronicle of notable facts which is a trea-
sured source, but not so much so that one
can rely on it unquestionably. In an extract
which Germain Bazin quotes in an appendix
(p. 349),
one finds this assertion: 'e nas
igrejas de Sao Pedro dos Clerigos e Rosario
de Ouro Preto, deUneadas par Antonio
Perreira de Souza CaUieiro ao gosto da
rotunda da Roma'. What does he call the
Rotunda of Rome? It would be the Pan-
theon. But the Rosario, a Borrominesque
church, has nothing in common with that.
^^Jose Mariano Filho is inclined to be-
heve that the Rosario is the more ancient
and in some ways the prototype of the
Borrominesque churches of Brazil. But the
question remains obscure. {Estudos brasileiros
II, op. cit.,
p. 302.)
^'
For example, the church of Sao Fran-
cisco da Paula at Rio de Janeiro, with a
traditional ground-plan and a tendency to-
wards churrigueresque decoration, which
dates from
1759,
and to a lesser degree, be-
cause of its transitional fe tures, Santa Cruz
dos Mihtares
(1770)
and Sao Jose, which
carries on till the time of Pedro II
(1842)
at least some aspects of the Baroque tradi-
tion.
^^
Reynaldo dos Santos, op. cit.
ff^^;::::;6^' -^:: :
:;'3
^^----S-. :
^3 :::::
0..
. ..
3'
/ #
In order not to repeat references to sources mentioned in the notes, only
the most important works and those which have been most frequently
consulted will be hsted below.
A full bibhography for Baroque in general up to
1944
is given in
Chapter VI of Volume II, Moyen Age et temps modernes, of VHistoire de
I'art by Pierre Lavedan, Collection Cho. A bibhography for Itahan art is
given in L'art italien. Volume II by Andre Chastel, Larousse,
1956.
I. WORKS CONCERNING PROBLEMS OF ART AND
CIVILIZATION IN GENERAL
Andre Michel (edited by), Histoire de Vart Volumes IV, VI and VIII.
Louis Reau, La Renaissance: VArt moderne [Histoire Universelle des Arts
Volume III) (Paris, Armand-Colin,
1936).
Ehe Faure, Histoire de VArt
Vart moderne (Ed. d'histoire et d'art) (Paris,

1941).
P. Lavedan, Histoire de VUrbanisme: Volume II, Renaissance et temps moderne
(Paris, Laurens,
1952).
P. Lavedan, Histoire de VArt, Moyen Age et temps modernes (Collection Cho,
PUF, Paris,
1944).
Andre Chastel, VArt Italien (two volumes, Art, Style technique) (Larousse,
Paris,
1956).
R. Mousnier, Histoire des civilisations: Les XVI^ et XVII^ siecks (Paris,
PUF,
1954).
J.
B. Duroselle and E.
Jarry (edited by) Histoire de VEglise, depuis les
origines jusqu a nosjours: two volumes. Volume XVII, L. Christiani, Le
Concile de Trente: Volume XIX, E. Preclin and E. Jarr\%
Les luttes
politiques et doctrinales aux XVII^ et XVIII^ siecks (Paris, Bloud and Gay,
1955-6).
F. Braudel, La Mediterranee et le monde mediterraneen a Vcpoqne de Philippe II
(Colin,
1949).
R. Quazza, in the collection: Preponderanza espagnuola
15
59-1700 (Storia
Politica d'Italia,
1950).
Ed. Preclin and V.-L. Tapie, Le XVII^ siecle (Collection Cho, PUF, 2nd
edition,
1949).
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
286 II. WORKS CONCERNING BAROQUE AND CLASSICISM
J,
Burckhardt, Die Kultur der Renaissance im Italien (Stuttgart, i860).
J.
Burckhardt, Der Cicerone (Bale, i860), three volumes.
J.
Stryzgowski, Das Werden des Darockstils bei Raphael und Corregio (Stras-
bourg,
1898).
H. Wolfflin, Renaissance und Barock (Munich,
1888; 3rd edition,
1907
or
1908).
H. Wolfflin, Kunstgeschichtliche Grundbegriffe der Stil Entwicklung in der
neueren Kunst (Munich,
191 5,
8th edition,
1943).
H. Wolfflin, Kunstgeschichtliche Grundbegriffe, Eine Revision (Revue Logos,
Volume XXII, Tubingen,
1933).
W. Weisbach, Der Barock als Kunst der Gegenreformation (Berlin,
1921).
W. Weisbach, Barock als Stilphdnomen, Deutsche Vierteljahrschrift fiir
Literaturwissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte
(1924) p. 225.
W. Weisbach, Die Kunst des Barock in Italien, Frankreich, Deutschland und
Spanien (Propylaen-Kunstgeschichte, Volume XI Propylaen-Verlag,
Berlin,
1924),
a vigorous picture of the general artistic development in
the four countries.
Jose
Pijoan, Summa Artis. Historica general del Arte (Volume XVI), Arte
barroco en Francia, Itaha
y
Alemana (Madrid,
1957).
Emile Male, L'art religieux apres le Concile de Trente (Cohn, Paris,
1932).
Henri Focillon, La Vie desformes (PUF, Paris,
1936).
Nikolaus Pevsner and Otto Grautoff, Barockmalerei in den romanischen
Ldndern. I: Die italienische Malerei vom Ende der Renaissance bis zum
Ausgehenden Rokoko.
II: Die Malerei im Barockzeitalter in Frankreich und Spanien. Volume I
(Collection Handbuch der Kunstwissenschaft Burger and Brinckmann,
Potsdam,
1928).
Gustav Schniirer, Katholische Kirche und Kultur in der Barockzeit (Paderbom,
Schoningh,
1937) 804
p.
Wilhelm Hausenstein, Vom Geist des Barock (Munich,
1920).
Arthur Hiibscher, Barock als Gestaltung antithetischen LebensgefUhls (Eu-
phorion XXIV,
1922).
J.
Weiugarten, Der Geist des Barocks (Augsburg,
1925).
Benedetto Croce, Scritti di Storia Letteraria e Politica, Volume XXIII, Storia
della Eta barocca in Italia. Pensiero-poesia e letteratura-vita morale (2nd
edition, Bari,
1946).
Eugenio d'Ors, Teoria de los estilos
y
espejo de la Arquitectura (Madrid
Aguilar)
394
p.
(Collection ofsuggestive studies).
Eugenio d'Ors, Du baroque, French edition translated by Mme Agathe
Rouardt Valery (Paris, Gallimard,
1935).
Grose Evans, The Baroque Harmony
of
Space and Form (Gazette des Beaux-
Arts,
39, 1952) p. 27.
Rudolf Wittkower, Architectural Principles in the age
of
Humanism (2nd re-
BIBLIOGRAPHY
vised edition, London,
1952)
(mainly concerned widi die Italian 287
Renaissance and the problem of proportion in architecture).
Louis Hautecoeur, Cart classique (Club franâis de I'art, Paris,
1954)
'Formes de I'art',
3.
Louis Hautecoeur, L'art baroque (Club franâis de I'art, Paris,
1956)
'Formes de I'art',
4.
Louis Hautecoeur, Mystique et Architecture, Symbolisme cercle et coupolc
(Picart, Paris,
1954).
Z. Kalista, Co jest barok? (The meaning of Baroque) Lecture at the
Akademicky tyden, October
1933
(Prague,
1934).
P. Roques et R. P. Regamey, La si^^nijication du baroque (La Maison Dicu,
revue de Pastorale hturgique. Editions du Cerf, 26, 2nd quarter,
195
1).
Das Weltkonzil von Trient. Seiii Werden und Wirkeii, Volume I (Verlag
Herder, Freiburg,
195
1)
pp.
381-425. Dr Gcorg Schrciber, Pralat, uni-
versitats Professor (Miinster), Der Barock und das Tridentinum.
Der deutsche Adensch von H. Naumann, W. Andreas, A. Feuhier, etc
(Stuttgart,
1935);
A. Feuhier, Der deutsche Mensch des Baroch.
Reuue des Sciences humaincs (Lille), number devoted to the Baroque,
55-56,
July-December
1949.
XVIP siecle. Bulletin de la Societe d'Etude du XVIP siecle, Du baroque an
classicisme (No. 20,
1953).
Retorica e Barocco, Atti del III Congresso Internazionalc di Studi Umanis-
tici, Venezia 15-18 giugno
1954,
a cura di Enrico Castelli (Rome,
1955).
III. JESUIT ART
W. Weihcl, Jesuitisnius und Barockshdptur in Rom (Strasbourg,
1909).
Pietro Pirri
S.J.,
Giovanni Tristano e i priinordi delta architettura gesuitica
(Bibliotheca Instituti Historic!
S.J.,
Rome,
1955).
J.
Braun, Die belgischen Jesuitenhirchen (Fribourg-en-Brisgau,
1907).
J.
Braun, Die Kirchenbauten der deutschenjesuiten. Ein Beitrao zur Kuhiir und
Kunstgeschichte des ij und 18 JahrJumderts (Fribourg-en-Brisgau, 190S-
10).
J,
Braun, Spaniens alte Jesuitenhirchen (Fribourg-en-Brisgau,
1913).
E-L. G. Charvet, Biograpliie d'arcliitectes: Etienne Martellange
1
569-1641
(Lyon,
1874).
Pierre Moisy, Les Eglises des Je'suites de Vancienne Assistance de France
Volume I: text; Volume II: illustrations (Institutum Historicum,
SJ,
1958).
F. de Dainville,
SJ,
Lieux de theatre et salles des Actions dans les colleges de
Jesuites de Vancienne France ('Revue d'Histoire du Theatre', Volume II,
1950).
F. de Dainville,
SJ,
Foyers de culture dans la France mediterraneenne ('Revue
de I'histoire des Sciences', Volume I).
F. de Dainville,
SJ,
L'enseignement des niathanatiqucs dans les colleges jesuites
u
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
288 de France du XVI ait XVIII siecle (Revue de I'Histoire des Sciences',
Volume VII).
IV. ITALY
Cesare Ripa, Nova Iconologia (Padua, 161
8).
G. P. Bellori, Le Vite de Pittori Sadtori e Architetti moderni (ist edition,
Rome,
1672).
P. Pozzo, Perspectii'a pictomm et architectorum. Pars prima l6g3.
P. M. Letarouilly,
Edifices
de Rome moderne (ist edition,
1840-57; 3rd
edition, 1868-74; recent English editions: Scopas edition 1928-44, The
Student's Letarouilly illustrating the Renaissance in Rome, edited by
A. E. Richardson,
1948).
P. M. Letarouilly, The Basilica
of
St Peter (ist edition 1882; recent English
edition with a preface by A. E. Richardson, Alec Tiranti, London,
1953).
Sir Anthony Blunt, Artistic theory in Italy 14^0-1600 (2nd edition,
1956).
R. Wittkower, Art and architecture in Italy (Penguin,
1958).
J.
Delumeau, Vie economique et sociale de Rome dans la seconde partie du
XVI siecle (two volumes, E. de Boccard, Paris,
1957-9).
A. E. Brinckmann, Baukunst des ij und 18 Jahrhundert in den romdnischen
Ldndern (HdK, BerHn,
191
5).
A. E. Brinckmami, Barokskulptur-Entwicklungsgeschichte der Skulptur in den
romanischen und germanischen Lander seit Michel Angela his zum Beginn des
18 Jahrhunderts (HdK, Berlin, 19
17).
James Lees Milne, Baroque in Italy (Batsford, London,
1959).
Josef Weingarmer, RomiscJie Barochkirchen (Munich,
193 1).
C. Ricci, Architettura harocca in Italia (2nd edition,
1922).
(French transla-
tion ofthe ist edition of 191 1: Varchitecture baroque en Italie,
1932).
T. H. Fokker, Roman Baroque Art, two volumes (Oxford, London,
1938).
H. Voss, Die Malerei des Barocks in Rom
(1925).
F. Baumgart, Caravaggio, Kimst und Wirklichkeit (Berlin,
1955).
S. S. Ludovici, Vita del Caravaggio dalle testimonianze del suo tempo (Milan,
ed. del MiHone,
1956).
A. Chastel, Le prohleme du Caravage {'Critique', November
1956).
P. Francastel, Le realisme du Caravage {^Gazette des Beaux-Arts',
July-
August
1938).
W. Friedlander, Caravaggio Studies (Princeton University Press,
1955).
Marcel Reymond, Le Bernin (Paris, 191
1).
Marcel Reymond, De Michel-Ange a Tiepolo (Paris,
1912).
F. Baldinucci, Vita del Car. L. Bernini (Florence, 1682. Edited by A. Riegl,
Vienna, 1912: edited by Samek Ludovisi, Milan,
1948).
S. Fraschetti, // Bernini, la sua vita, la sua opera, il suo tempo
(1900).
Brauer-Wittkower, Die Zeichnungen des Bernini, two volumes (Berlin,
1931).
BIBLIOGRAPHY
R. Wittkower, Le Bernin et le baroque romain {'Gazette des Beaux-Arts,
289
1934)-
Valentino MarrincUi, Bernini, bibliography
(Bibliotcca Modcma Mon-
dadori
352, 1953).
Roberto Pane, Bernini architetto (Venice,
1953).
H. Sedlmaycr, Die Architektur Borromini's (Munich,
1939).
Giulio Carlo Argan, Borromini (Bibliotcca Moderna Mondadori
306,
1952).
L. N. Galvani, Iteatri musicali di Venezia nel secolo XVII (Milan,
1879).
E. Prampolini, Lineamenti di scenograjia italiana dal Prinascimento ad oggi
(Rome,
1950).
J.
MauryR. Percheron, Itineraires remains (Paris, Lcthielleux,
1950).
Clear, well-informed guide for tourists.
V. FRANCE
(a) Documents
J.
GuifFrey, Les Comptes des Batiments du Roi sous le rlgne de Louis XIV
1664-1715. (Collection des Documents Inedits de I'Histoire de France,
five volumes, 1 881-91).
J.
Marot (called le Petit Marot), Recueil des plans, profils et elevations
Paris, ?i67o).
J.
Marot and Marot fils (called le Grand Marot), Varchitecture franiâise ou
plans des eglises palais hotels et maisons (published by P.
J.
Mariette,
Paris, c.
1670).
H. Lemonnier (published by), Proces verbaux de VAcademie royale d'archi-
tecture l6'/l-iygj (Volumes I and II, Paris,
1912).
Francois Blondel, Cours d'architecture (Paris,
1698).
Roland Freart de Chambray, Parallele de Varchitecture antique et de la
moderne avec un recueil des dix principaux auteurs qui ont ccrit des cinq ordres,
sgavoir Palladio et Scamozzi, Serlio et Vignole, etc. (Paris,
1650).
Roland Freart de Chambray, Ide'e de perfection de lapeinture (Le Mans, 1662).
A. Felibien, Des principes de Varchitecture, de la sculpture, de la peinture et
autres arts qui en dependent (with a glossary) (Paris,
1676).
A. Felibien, Idee du peintre parfait (London,
1707).
P. C. F. Menestrier, La philosophie des images composee d'un ample recueil de
devises et du jugement de tons les ouurages qui ont etc faits sur cctte matiere
(Paris,
R.J.
B. de la Caille, 1682-3) two volumes.
P. C. F. Menestrier, Des decorations funebres, ou il est amplement traite des
tentures, des lumieres, des mausolees, catafalques, inscriptions et autres monu-
mentsfunebres . . . enrichies defgures (Paris, ist edition, 16S3, 2nd edition
1684).
(b) Evolution
of
the Arts
L. Hautecoeur, Histoire de Varchitecture classique en France.
Volume I. I. La Renaissance
u*
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
290
2. L'architecture sous Henri IV et Louis XIII (Aug. Picard,
Paris,
1943).
Volume II. I and 2. Le regne de Louis XIV (A. et T. Picard, Paris,
1948).
L. Hautecoeur, Histoire des chateaux du Louvre et des Tuileries (Paris-
BruxeUes,
1927).
L. Hautecoeur, Histoire du Louvre, le chateau, le palais, le musee des origines
a nos jours, izoo-igÔ (published by 'Illustration
,
2nd edition).
L. Hautecoeur, Louis XIV, roi soleil (Plon, Paris,
1954).
Sir Anthony Blunt, Art and Architecture in France lôo-ljoo (The Pelican
History of Art, Penguin Books, London,
1953).
P. de Nolhac, Histoire du chateau de Versailles, Versailles sous Louis XIV
(1911-28).
Fiske Kimball, The Genesis
of
the Chateau
Neuf at Versailles,
1668-16
Jl.
n. The Grand Escalier {'Gazette des Beaux-Arts'
,
40,
1952) p.
115.
P. Francastel, Versailles et Varchitecture urhaine au XVII^ siecle (Annales, io
annee, October-December
1955,
No.
4).
P. Francastel, La sculpture de Versailles (Paris,
1930).
B, Dorival, La peinturefranâise au XVII^ siecle (Paris, Larousse,
1942).
L. Dimier, Histoire de la peinture franâise du retour de Vouet a la mort de Le
Brun, i62y-l6go, two volumes
(1926
and
1927).
Rene Crozet, La Vie artistique en France au XVIF siecle, I^g8-l66l. Les
artistes et la societe (PUF,
1954).
F. G. Pariset, Georges de La Tour (Henri Laurens, Paris,
1949).
E. Magne, Nicolas Poussin, premier peintre du Roi (6th edition, Paris,
1928).
W. Friedlaender, The Drawings
of
Nicolas Poussin (London,
1939-1953).
P. Jamot, Connaissance de Poussin (Paris,
1948).
R. A. Weigert,
Jean i^"" Berain, dessinateur de la Chambre et du Cabinet du
Roi 1640-1711 (Paris,
1936).
L. Reau, VEurope frangaise au siecle des lumieres
(1938,
Volume 70
of the
collection VEvolution de VHumanite, edited by Henri Berr, Paris, Albin-
Michel).
L. Reau, Histoire de Vexpansion de Vartfrangais (1924-33
four volumes).
A. Lavignac, Encyclopedie de la musique: i, 2 and
3,
Delagrave
(191 3).
XVIP siecle. Aspects de la musique francaise au XVIF siecle, Nos
21-22
(1954).
(c) Literary trends
A. Adam, Histoire de la litterature frangaise au XVII^ siecle, five volumes,
(Paris, Domat,
1948-56).
D. Momet, Histoire de la litteraturefrangaise classique (Paris, Colin,
1942).
P. Castex et P. Surer, Manuel des etudes litteraires frangaises. Volume III,
XVIP siecle, in collaboration with G. Becker (Hachette,
1947).
Gonzague de Reynold, Le XVIP siecle. Le classique et le baroque (Montreal,
1944).
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Henri Peyre, Quest-ce que Ic classicisme? Essai de mise au point (Paris, Droz, 291
1942 223
p.)
R. Bray, Laformation de la doctrine classique en France (Paris,
1927).
Jacques
Scherer, La dramaturgie classique en France (Paris, Nizet,
1950).
Octave Nadal, Le sentiment de Vamour clicz Corneille (Bibliothcquc dc
I'histoire des idecs, Gallimard,
1948),
J.
E. Fidao-Justiniaiii, Quest-ce quun classique? Le heros ou du genie (Paris,
1930).
J.
Rousset, La litterature de Vdge baroque en France. Circe et le Paon (Paris,
Jose
Corti,
1954).
(d) Theatre and Festivals. Decoration
E. Gros, Les origines de la tragedie lyrique et la place des tragedies en machines
dans revolution du theatre vers Vopera (Revue d'histoire litteraire, April-
June 1928).
H. Carrington Lancaster, A History
of
French Dramatic Literature in the
Seventeenth Century Part III. The Period
of
Moliere
16
$2-1672 (The
John
Hopkins Press,
1936).
R. Lebegue, Le Theatre baroque en France (Bibl. d'Humanisme et Renais-
sance,
1942).
H. Prunieres, Vopera italien en France avant Lulli (P. Champion,
191
3).
H. Prunieres, Le ballet de cour avant Benserade et Lulli (P. Laurens,
1913).
P. Melese, Le theatre et le public a Paris sous Louis XIV (Paris,
1934).
Helene Leclerc, Les origines italiennes de Varchitecture thedtrale moderne (Paris,
1946).
Hans Tintebiot, Barocktheater und Baroche Kunst (Verlag Gebr. Mann,
BerHn,
1939).
G. Rouches, Inventaire des lettres et papiers manuscrits de Gaspare, Carlo et
Ludovico Vigarani, conserves aux Archives d'Etat de Modene, 1634-1684
(Paris,
1913).
A. Tessier, Le genre decoratiffunebre. Esquisse d'une liistoire de ses debuts en
France (Revue de I'art ancien et moderne. Volume XLVI, 1924
and
Volume XLVII,
1925).
P. C. F. Menestrier, Les graces pleurantes stir le tombeau de la reine tres
chrestienne Anne d'Austriche, dessein de Vappareilfunebre dresse dans Ve'glise
du college des Peres de la Compagnie de Jesus, a Grenoble (Grenoble, R.
Pliilippes, 1666, in-8) 16
p.
P. C. F. Menestrier, Les Vertiis chrestietines et les Vertus miiitaires en deuil,
dessein de Vappareilfunebre dresse par ordre du Roy dans I'eglise de N-D de
Paris,
9
septembre,
167j,
a Paris chez Esticnne Michallet, rue Saint-
Jacques a rimage S. Paul, proche S. Severiti, l6j$.
(e) Bernini's travels in France
Chantelou, Journal du Voyage du Cavalier Bernin en France par }>L de
Chantelou, unpubHshed manuscript edited by Ludovic Lalanne (Paris,
'Gazette des Beaux-Arts', 1885, 2nd edition, G. Charensol, Paris,
1930)
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
292 L. Mirot, Le Bernin en France. Les travaux du Louvre et les statues de Louis
XIV (Memoires de la societe de I'Histoire de Paris et de I'lsle-de-France,
Volume XXXI
(1904) pp.
161-288).
Ed. Esmonin, Le Bernin et le construction du Louvre (Bulletin de la Societe
d'Histoire de I'art franâis, 191
1).
Ragnar Josephson, Les maquettes du Bernin pour le Louvre ['Gazette des
Beaux-Arts', 1928,
70^
p.
77).
(f) Reredoses
J.
Barbet, Livre d'architecture d'autels et de cheminees, engraved by A. Bosse,
(Paris, about
1633).
J.
Braun, Der christliche Altar in seiner geschichtlichen Entwicklung (Munich,
Koch,
1924).
J.
Braun, Das christliche Altargerdt in seinem Sein und in seiner Entwicklung
(1932).
G. Schreiber, Deutsche Bauernfrommigkeit (Dusseldorf,
1937).
J.
B. Thiers (cure of Champrond), Dissertations ecclesiastiques sur les princi-
paux autels des eglises, lesjubes (Paris, 1688).
R. P. Fidele Durieux (Fransciscan), Trois retables franciscains du Perigord.
Introduction and photographs by M.Jean Saret (Perigueux,
1953).
M. Giraud-Mangin, Les ohjets classes de Loire-inferieure (Bulletin de la
Societe archeologique de la Loire-Inferieure,
1938).
J,
M. Richard, Notes sur quelques artistes lavallois du XVII^ siecle. Les con-
structeurs de retables (Laval,
1907).
Celestin Port, Les artistes angevins (Angers,
1881)
(Accounts of Angevin
painters, sculptors, surveyors, architects, engravers and musicians).
E. Laurain, Ouvriers d'art lavallois (Laval,
1941).
Andre Mussat, in: Congres archeologique de France, CXF session,
1957,
Cornouaille: Plomodiern, Sainte Marie du Menez-Hom. Rumengol,
p.
161. Plozevet, La chapelle de la Trinite,
p. 229. (Pubhcation de la
Societe franâise d'Archeologie, Orleans,
1957).
VI. ENGLISH BAROQUE
Cohn Campbell, Vitruvius hritannicus
(1715-25,
3
gr. in-fol, BN V
97-9).
Margaret Whinney and Oliver Millar, The Oxford History
of
English Art
(VIII English art 1625-1714, one volume,
1957, 391
p.).
Sir
John
Summerson, Architecture in Britain ij;ô-l8jo (The Pehcan His-
tory of Art, Penguin Books, London,
1953).
Robert Smith, Baroque Architecture (Clarendon Press, Oxford,
1953).
Saxl and Wittkower, English Art and the Mediterranean
(1948).
Ehzabeth and Wayland Young, Old London Churches (London,
1953).
Ralph Dutton, The Age
of
Wren (Batsford, London,
195
1).
Margaret Whinney, Sir Christopher Wrens Visit to Paris {^Gazette des
Beaux-Arts', January-June,
1958).
E. Sekler, Wren and his place in European Architecture
(1956).
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Viktor Fiirst, The Architecture
of
Sir Christopher Wren (Lund Humphries, 293
London,
1956).
C. H, Collins Baker, Lely and the Stuart Portrait
(1912).
Ellis Watcrhouse, Painting in Britain l^ô-ljgo.
Bryan Little, The
Life and Work
of
James Gihhs {1682-1
y^4)
(Batsford,
London,
1955).
VII. CENTRAL EUROPE
(a) German Baroque
Cornelius Gurlitt, Geschichte des Barockstils und des Rokoko in Deutschland
(Stuttgart,
1889).
G. Steinhausen, Geschichte der deutschen Kuhur,
1904
(2nd edition Leipzig,
1929).
B. Haendcke, Deutsche Kuhur im Zeitalter des dreissigjdhrigen Krieges (Leip-
zig,
1906).
G. Dehio, Geschichte der deutschen Kunst. Ill Band (Berlin-Leipzig,
1926).
Heinrich Gunther, Deutsche Kuhur in ihre Entwicklung (Munich,
1932).
M. Wackernagel, Die Baukunst des ij und 18 Jahrelt in den Germanischen
Landern (HdK).
W. Pinder, Deutscher Barock ('Die Blauen Bliiclier, Konigstein am
Taunus',
1933,
2nd edition,
1940).
H. W. Hegemann, Deutsches Rokoko ('Die Blauen Bliicher, Konigstein am
Taunus',
1933,
2nd edition,
1940).
M. Hauttmann, Geschichte der kirchlichen Baukunst in Bayern, Schwaben und
Franken ijô-iy8o
(1921;
2nd edition, Munich,
1923).
Anton Chroust, Hugo Hantsch, Andreas Scherf, QticUen zur Geschichte des
Barocks in Franken unter dem Einfuss des Hauses Schonhorns (I Teil. Der
Zeit des Erzbischofs Lothar-Franz und des BischofFs Johann Phihpp
Franz von Schonbom, 1693-1729, Augsbourg,
193
1).
H. M. K. Schnell, Der hayerische Barock (Munich,
1936).
Feulner, Bayerisches Rokoko (Munich,
1923).
Ph. Halm, Die Kiinstlerfamilie Assmn (Munich,
1896),
G. Schreiber, Deutschland und Spanien (Diisseldorf,
1936).
H. Tintelnot, Die harocke Freskomalerei in Deutschland (Munich, F. Briick-
mann,
1951).
J.
Vanuxem, Articles sur les ahhayes de Souahe
(
Weingarten, Weissenau, etc.)
in: Congres Archeologique de France, CV^ Session, Souahe, ig^j (Societe
franâise d'Archeologie).
J.
Vanuxem, Notes sur les contrefaôns de gravures et ornements franâis du
XVIII^ siecle a Augsbourg et leur influence en Souabe (Bulletin Societe de
I'Histoire de I'art franâis,
1952).
Werner Fleischhauer, Barock im Herzogtum Wurttemberg (Stuttgart, W.
Kolilliam Verlag,
1958).
Nicolas Powell, From Baroque to Rococo, An Introduction to Austrian and
German Architecture from 1580 to 1790
(Faber and Faber, London,
1959).
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
294 John
Bourke, Baroque Churches
of
Central Europe (Faber and Faber, Lon-
don,
1958).
(b) Austrian Baroque
A. Tibal, L'Autrichien (Paris, Berger-Levrault,
1936).
H. Sedlmayr, CEsterreichische Barockarchitehtur i6go-l'J40 (Vienna, Filsen,
1930).
H. Sedlmayr, Fischer von Erlach der dltere (Munich,
1925).
H. Sedlmayr, JoAan/z Bernhard Fischer von Erlach (Vienna,
1956).
Anna Coreth, CEsterreichische Geschichtsschreihung in der Barockzeit 1620-
ijÔ (Vienna, Verlag Adolf Holzhausen,
1950).
O. Redlich, Uher kunst und Kultur des Barocks in Osterreich ('Archiv fiir
osterreichische Geschichte'. Ak. der W. in Wien, 115 Band, 2 Halfte
1943, pp-
331-79).
Bruno Grimschitz, Universitdtskirche Wien I (Jesuitenkirche) (Kunstfiihrer,
no
3
92, litde guide, 2nd edition,
1956,
Schnell and Steiner, Munich-
Zurich).
P. Reginal, OSB, Stift Melk (Kunstfiihrer, n654, httle guide, ist edition,
1957,
Schnell and Steiner, Munich-Zurich).
B. Patzak, Andrea del Pozzos Umbau der Wiener Universitdtskirche (Zeit-
schrift fiir christHche Kunst, XXIX,
1916).
Robert A. Kann, A Study in Austrian Intellectual History
from
late Baroque
to Romanticism (Frederick A. Praeger, New York, i960).
J.
Weingartner, Die Kirchen Innsbriicks
(1950, 87 p.,
32 pi).
Dr Rochus Kohlbach (Dompfarrer), Die Barocken Kirchen von Graz.
Heinrich Decker, Barockplastik in den Alpenldndern (Wilhelm Andermann
Verlag, Vienna).
Kurt Blauenstein, Georg Raphael Donner (Vienna,
1944).
Ann Tizia Leitich, Vienna gloriosa. Weltstadt des Barocks (Vienna,
1944).
Bruno Grimschitz, Wiener Barock Paldste (Wiener Verlag,
1947).
A. Igl, Die Fischer von Erlach (Vienna,
1905).
(c) Czech Baroque
The following works on Czech Baroque have been referred to:
Josef
Pekar, Kniha Kosti (The book of Kost)
(1911,
2nd edition,
1935).
Josef Pekaf, Bild Hora (The White Mountain)
(1920).
Josef
Pekaf, Tri kapitoly z bojeosv.Jana Nepomuckeho (Three chapters about
the struggle which centred round St.
John
Nepomuk).
Josef
Vasica, Ceske literarni Baroko. Prispevky k jeho studiu. (A contribution
to the study of Czech Baroque Hterature) (Prague, Vysehrad,
1938).
Ame Novak, Praha barokni
(191 5,
French translation: Prague Baroque,
Aventinum,
1920).
B. OhmanK. B. Madl, Architektura baroka a rokoko v Cechdch (Baroque
and Rococo architecture in Bohemia) (Volume II, Prague, 1900-1909-
1912).
BIBLIOGRAPHY
V. BirnbaumJ. Cibulka
A. MatcjcckJ. PccirkaV. V. StcchZd.
295
Wirth, Dejepis vytvarneho umeni v Cechdch (History of Plastic Art in
Bohemia) (Prague, SVU Manes,
193
1) 437 p.
Jakub Pavel, Dejiny naseho umcni (History ofOur Art) (with bibhography,
359 p.,
202 illustrations, Prague Ceska Graficka Unie,
1947).
K. V. Herain, Ceske malifstvi oddohy
rudolfinske do smrti Reinerovy (Prague,
1915).
Jaromir Neumann, Malifstvi XVII'' stoleti v Clechdch (Seventeenth-Century
Painting in Bohemia) (Prague, Orbis,
1953).
V. V. Stech, Brohovove (The Brokoff) (Kniha o Prazc,
1933 p. 41),
V. V. Stcch, Sochafi prazskelio haroku (Czech Sculptors in Prague) (Prague,
1935).
E. V. Balcarek, Doksany
(193 1).
O.J,
Blazicek, Sochafstvi haroku v CecJidch (Baroque sculpture in Bohemia)
^
(Prague,
1958).
Ceskoslovenskd Vlastiveda, Volume VIII Umeni, (Prague,
1935).
First part,
III. Barock,
pp.
121-77, by A. Matejcck, E. Poche,
Jos.
Polak, with
bibliography,
p.
206 (an important work).
(d) Hungarian Baroque
A. Hekler, Ungarisclie Kustgescliichte (Berhn,
1937).
Jean
Kaposoy, Stellung des ungarischen Barock in der europa'ischen Kwist-
entwicklung (Ungarische Jahrbiicher, 193 1,
Volume XI).
Andreas Angyal, Barock in Ungarn (Budapest-Leipzig, ?I943).
A. Domanovszky (under the direction of), Magyar miivelodestortetiet (His-
tory of Hungarian culture) (Bd. IV, 'Baroque et Aufklarung').
Maria Agghazy, A harokk szohraszat Magyarorszagon (Baroque sculpture
in Hungary) (Akademiai Kiado, Budapest,
1959,
planches I-
CCXXXVIII).
(e) Russian Baroque
L. Reau, VArt russe, des origines a Pierre le Grand (Paris, Laurens,
1920).
L. Reau, VArt russe (Collection Arts, Styles et Techniques, Larousse).
Igor Grabar, Istoriia rousskago Iskousstva (History of Russian Art) Volume
11. Dopetrovskaia epokha (The Period before Peter the Great),
A. Angyal, Das Problem des slawischcn Barocks (WissenschaftHche Zeit-
schrift des Ernst Moritz Amdt-Universitat Greifswiild. Jahrgang VI-
1956-7).
JuHan
Krzyzanowski, Od sredniowiecza do haroku (From the Middle Ages
to Baroque, collection of studies on Pohsh hterature,
1938).
Wladyslaw Tatarkiewicz, Dwa haroki, Krakowski i Wilenski (Two
Baroques: Cracow and Wilno) (an edition of part of Volume VIII of
the Polska Akademia Umiejetnosci).
H. Weidhaas, IVets-ostlichc Beziehungen in der Baugeschichte des ij und 18
Jahrhunderts (Wissenschafthche Zeitschrift der Hochschule fiir Archi-
tektur und Bauwesen Weimar, III Jahrgang, 1955-6, Hect
2),
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
296 M. V. Alpatov, VseohUdia istoriia iskousstv (General History of the Arts)
Volume
3
(Moscow,
1955).
Rousskoie Zodtchestvo (Russian architecture) Volume
3. Pamiatniki architek-
tury XVII^ veha. (Architecture in the seventeenth century) introduction
by d'A. G. Tchiniakov (Moscow,
1953).
VIII. IBERIAN AND LUSITANIAN BAROQUE
(a) Spain and Portugal
EHe Lambert, L'Art en Espagne et au Portugal (Collection Arts, Styles et
Techniques, Larousse,
1945).
Juan
de Contreras, Marques de Lozoya, Historia del Arte hispanico, tomo
cuarto (ist edition, Barcelona (Salvat)
1945).
Otto Schubert, Geschichte des Barocks in Spanien
(1908)
(translated into
Spanish: Historia del harroco en Espana, Madrid,
1924).
G. Kubler, Arquitectura de los sighs XVII-XVIII (Ars Hispaniae collection.
Volume XIV, Madrid,
1957).
A. Garcia Bellido, Estudios del harroco espaitol. Avances para una
monografia
de los Churrigueros (Archive Espafiol de Arte
y
Arqueologia,
1929,
21-86.
1930, 135-87).
Jose
M. Pla Dalmau, La arquitectura barroca espafiola
y
el Churrigueresco
(195 1,
GeroneMadrid).
Chueca
y
Goitia, Historia de la arquitectura espafiola (Dossat, Madrid,
1945).
Gomez Moreno, Historia de la escultura espafiola (Dossat, Madrid,
195
1).
Lafuente Ferrari, Historia de la pintura espafiola (Dossat, Madrid,
1946).
Hubert Damisch, Voeuvre des Churriguera: la categorie du masque (Annals
15th year,
3,
May-June i960).
Antonio Sancho Corbacho, Arquitectura barroca sevillana (Madrid,
1952).
Reynaldo dos Santos, L'Art portugais. Architecture, peinture et sculpture
(Paris,
1953).
George Kubler, Martin Soria, Art and Architecture in Spain and Portugal and
their American Dominions, 1^00-1800 (ThePehcan History ofArt, Pen-
guin Books, London,
1959).
(b) Colonial Baroque
Andre Michel, Histoire de fart, Volume VIII, Chapter by Louis Gillet.
Pal Kelemen, Baroque and Rococo in Latin America (New York,
1951).
Damian Bayon, Vart architectural de VAmerique espagnole (Aimals, ESC,
14th year, 2, April-June
1959).
Germain Bazin, Varchitecture religeuse baroque au Brcsil (Plon, editions
d'liistoire et d'art, Paris, Volume I
1956,
Volume II
1958).
Juan de Contreras, Marques de Lozoya, op. cit. Volume IV, ch. VIII:
La arquitectura barroca en America.
Manuel Toussaint, Imagineria colonial. Escultura colonial in Mexico (Mexico,
1941).
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Edgard de Cerqueira Falcao, Reliquias da Dahia
(1940). 297
Paulo F. Santos, O barroco ejesuitico no Arquitetura do Brasil (Rio,
1951).
Manuel Bandeira, O guia de Ouro Preto (No 2. Pubiicacôcs do Scrviô do
Patrimonio historico e artistico nacional, Rio dc Janeiro,
1938).
Bury, The borrominesque churches
of
Colonial Brazil (The Art Bulletin
XXXVII, March
1955)-
Claude ArthaudFrancôis Kcbert StevensFrancois Cali, L'Art des
Conquistadors (Arthaud, Paris, i960)
295 p.
in
4.
l@s3fW@i='@W@ca@ip@csi)
Index
Individual buildings in large cities are listed under those cities
Abraham a Sancta Clara,
309, 210
Alberti, Leon Battisti,
9, 17, 24, 28, 165, 241
Albi,
25
Akeste (Quinault), 140
Aleijadinho (Antonio Francisco Lisboa),
249-50, 252-4, 284
Alexander, St,
247, 283
Alexander VII, Pope,
54, 114; tomb of
(Bernini), 58-60,
64
Algarde, Alessandro, 64-5, 260, 262
ALhambra, Granada, 11
Allenôn,
155
Andrew, St: statue of (Duquesnoy), St
Peter's, Rome,
48;
statue of (Bernini),
Sant Andrea al Quirinale, Rome,
53
Andromede (Corneille), 91-2
Angers,
157
Anguier, Michel,
98, iii, 265, 267
Anne, Queen,
174, 179, 184, 187, 189
Amie of Austria, Queen of Louis XIII, 88,
89-91, 92, 93,
94-101, 106, 107, III,
145,
146, 156, 274
Anne of Denmark, Queen ofJames I, 165
Anthony, St, 246
Apotheosis
of
StJerome (Guercino),
37
Archer, Thomas, 183
Arequipa, 242, 243
Ariccia, 63
Armide (Lulli), 138
Art poetique , V (Boileau),
129, 134
Arundel, Thomas Howard, Earl of, 164, 166,
168
Ataide, Manoel da Costa,
249
Aurora (Guido Reni),
37
Babicka (Nemcova), 207, 278
Baciccio, II,
25, 64, 65, 116, 196, 221
Bahia,
244, 245, 247
Balbin, Bohuslav, 206, 278
Barauderie, Pierre,
155
Barberini, Cardinal Antonio,
89, 98
Barberini, Cardinal Francesco,
89
Barbet,J., 158
Baroni, Leonora,
89
Beaubrun brothers,
99
Beaufort, Due de, 146, 273
Belem, 11, 283
Bellay, Joachim du, 10
Bellori, Giovanni,
135
Bellotti, Guiscppi, 229
Bendl, Johan-Gcorgc, 205
Benserade, Isaac dc, 107
Bcrain, Jean, 137, 147-9, 273
Berlin, 213
Bernini, Giovanni Lorenzo,
35, 40, 41-64,
71,
loi, 132, 135, 141, 146, 157, 167-8,
171, 175, 177, 188, 189, 194, 197, 212, 215,
216, 252, 255, 261, 262; and St Peter's,
Rome,
35, 43,
46-9, 52, 54-60, 149, 158,
241;
plans for Louvre,
39,
112-15, 117-19,
120-9,
139,
268-71; and Barberini Palace,
49-50, 89; his papal tombs, 58-60; his
visit to Paris, no, 114-24, 172; main
works in Paris, 129-31; meets Wren, 172;
influence, 221, 222, 233, 235
Bernini, Paulo, 115, 124, 126
Bernini, Pietro,
42
Bianco, Baccio,
199
Biardeau, Pierre,
157, 275
Biart the Elder, in
Bleioheim Palace, 184-6
Blondel, Francois,
44, 129, 135, 188, 267
Bofirand, Jean, 158, 275
Boileau, Nicolas, 129, 134
Bolgi, Andrea,
48
Bologna, 232
Bontemps, Pierre, 10
Bordes, Groyn des, 104
Bordier, 104
Borghese, Cardinal Scipio, tomb of (Ber-
nini),
46
Borgia, Francesco, 23-4
Borromini, Francesco,
35, 36, 40, 44-5, 64,
114, 129, 135, 178, 188, 194, 197, 204, 2X6,
219, 240, 255;
rivalry with Bernini, 41-2,
43-4, 51;
characteristic sr>'le,
44,
50-1, 62,
262, 282; and Barberini Palace, 50; his
other work in Rome, 51-2, 176; his angels,
62, 157; suicide,
177, 261; influence, 2x2,
215, 230, 233, 236, 252, 2S2
Bosse, Abraham, 158, 274
Bossuet, Jacques Benignc,
77, 149-50
Bouin,
154, 157, 274
Bourg du Batz, 156
Bramante, Lazzari,
7, 9,
16, 17, 22,
39, 46, 50,
173, 176, 204
Brandl, Peter, 221
Braun, Mathias, 221-2
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
300
Bridel, Father Bedfich, 206, 278
Brito, Manuel and Xavier de, 246
Brokoff family, 221
Brunelleschi, Filippo,
7
Brussels, 17
Buckingham, George ViLliers, ist Duke of,
166
Bullant, Jean, 10
Burlington, Lord, 190
Bushnell, John, 171
Buti, Abbe,
89, 93, 105
Cadmus et Hermione (Lulli),
137
Caesar's Trhwiph (Mantegna), 167
Cambefort, Jean de,
94
Cambert, Robert, 106
Cambridge,
179
Campbell, Colin, 187-8, 190
Campione,
199
Canaletto, Antonio,
177
Caporale, Francesco, 261
CaproU, Carlo,
93
Caravaggio, Michelangelo de,
38, 87, 167,
261
Carlone, Carlo, 207, 218
Carlone, Domenico, 208
Carracci family,
37,
38
Carrati, Francesco, 204
Castle Howard, 183-4, 185, 186
Cavalh, Francesco,
89, 94, 105, 106,
195
Cemin de Chudenic, Humprecht-Jan, 196,
204, 207
Cesti, Marc' Antonio, 208
Chambord, 8-9
Chantelou, Jean Freart de, 116
Chantelou, Paul Freart de, 116, 119, 120,
123, 261, 269, 270, 271
Charles I,
71, 76, 166-9, 171. 261,
275
Charles II,
94,
171
Charles V, Emperor,
4, 11, 14, 17
Charles V (Titian), 167
Charles VI, Emperor, 216, 218
Charles IX, Emperor,
99,
266
Charles V, Duke of Lorraine, 210, 211
Chateaubriant,
274
Chlumec, 214
Christian IV of Denmark, 164
Christina of Sweden, 65, 273
CigoU, Ludovico,
34, 35, 36
Clement VIII, Pope,
30, 31
Clement IX, Pope, 146
Clion,
274
Colbert, Jean Baptiste,
19, 94, 103, 104, no,
112, 113, 117-20, 123, 124-9, 132-4,
135,
139,
268-9, 270-1
Coleshill, 169, 170
Comenius, John Amos, 170, 276
Commana,
274
Conde, Prince de, 96, 149-50, 273
Congonhas do Campo, 250, 253
Coritessa delV Ariae delV Acqua, La (Cesti),
208
Comeille, Pierre, 91-2
Comeille, Thomas,
137
Comejo, Pedro Duque,
159
Coronazione di Poppea, Le (Monteverdi),
195
Correggio, 7-8,
36, 37, 167, 255
Cortona, Pietro da,
33, 64, 114, 135, 175,
176, 187, 230
Coiirs d'Architecture (Blondel),
129
Coysevox, Antoine,
140
Cracow, 227, 229-30, 281
Cromwell, OUver, 170
Crucifixion
of
St Peter (Guide Reni),
37
Czenstochowa, 229
Daphne and Apollo (Bernini),
42, 46
De Architectura (Alberti),
9
Death of the Virgin (Caravaggio),
38, 167
Decorations funebres {Menestrier),
145, 148
Defense et illustration de la languefrangaise (Du
Bellay), 10
Derand, P.,
87, 260
Deutsch-Gabel, 220
Dientzenhofer family, 22, 219, 220,
255
Domenichino, II,
37, 40, 65
Domingo da Conceiâo Silva, Frei,
245
Dominique de Jesus Maria, 211
Drachovsky,
J.,
206
Dubrovitsy, 236
Duquesnoy, Fran9ois,
48, 171
Diirer, Albert,
193
Ecstasy
of
St Theresa, The (Bernini), 60-1,
221, 222
Egisto (Cavalli),
89
Elizabeth of Hungary, St,
155
Entombment, The (Caravaggio),
38
Ercole amante (Cavalli),
105, 106
Errard, Charles,
125, 133
Escorial, El, 11
Eugene, Prince, 215, 276, 280
Evelyn, John, 171
Fdcheux, Les (MoUere),
104, 267
Faniese, Cardinal Alessandro,
23-4, 25
Feast
of
the Rosary, The (Diirer),
193
Felibien, Andre,
134, 158, 193, 267
Ferdinand, St,
155
Ferdinand II, Emperor, 198
Ferdinand III, Emperor, 200
Ferrari, Benedetto,
71, 166
Fetes de VAmour et du Bacchus, 140
Fielding, Basil, 2nd Earl ofDenbigh,
71, 166
Fili, 236
Finta Pazza, La (fete), 88-9
Fischer von Ehrlach, Johann Bemhard, 1
84,
188, 214-16, 218, 219, 255, 276, 280
Fischer von Ehrlach,
Joseph Emmanuel, 217
Florence,
4, 5, 6, 7, 24, 144
FoUi, Sebastiano,
144
Fontainebleu,
9, 10, 86,
139
Fontana, Balthazar, 281
Fontana, Carlo, 187, 188, 215, 260, 276
Fontana, Domenico,
16, 32, 36, 145,
188
Foucquet, Nicolas, 103-5, 106, 267-8
Four Books
of
Architecture (Palladio), 31, 165
Frain (Vranov), chateau of, 218
Francis, St, 246
Francis I,
8, 9, 77
Freart, Roland, 171
Friedriksborg Palace, 164
Gaulli
see Baciccio
Gaussart, Pere,
96, 102
Genoa, 80
Gibbons, Grinling,
177
Gibbs, James, 183, 186, 187-8
Gildas-les-Bois,
274
Giorgione, II,
5
Girardon, Fran<;ois,
59,
iii,
130, 140
Gissey, Henri, 146, 147, 273
Gostyn, 231
Goujon, Jean, 10
Grassi, Father Orazio,
33
Greenwich Hospital, 18 1-3
Greenwich Palace,
165, 171, 179,
181
Gregory XIII, Pope,
25
Gregory XV, Pope,
46
Grenoble, 145-6, 266
Guarini, Guarino,
135, 178, 187, 212, 215,
220, 230
Guerande,
157
Guercino,
37, 65, 261
Guido Reni,
37, 65, 261
Habakkuk, Prophet, statue of (Bernini), 61
Haindorf (Heinice), 219
Hampton Court, 167, 169, 179,
180-1
Hardouin-Mansart, Jules, 141, 143
Hawksmoor, Nicholas, 182, 183, 186, 187
Helena, Empress, statue of (Bolgi),
48
Henri, St,
155
Henri II, 11,
14, 76, 97,
no
Henri IV, 30-1, 76, 86, in, 156
Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I,
71, 89,
98, 165, 167-8, 170, 261, 273, 275
Henry VIII, 14
Herrera, Juan de, 1
1
Hildebrandt, Lukas von, 214, 215-16, 220,
280
Hollar, Wenceslaus, 168, 170
Hosius, Cardinal, 227
Iconologia (Ripa), 140
Idee du peintre parfait (Felibien), 158
Ignatius Loyola, 15, 22, 23
Innocent X, Pope,
43, 49, 51, 52, 54, 63, 65,
89,
262
Innocent XI, Pope,
41, 210, 214
Iphigenia, St, 246
Iphiginie (Racine),
137, 140
Isidore, St, 154, 274
Isle sur Sorgue, 156-7
Istra,
235
Jaeckel, 221
James,
St,
247
James I, 165, 166, 167
Jerome, St, statue of (Bernini), 61
John
Nepomuc, St, 206, 207,
220-1, 281
John
III Sobieski, 210, 211, 229, 230
Jones,
Inigo, 164-6, 168, 169, 171, 174, 176,
179,
181, 183, 188, 190, 195, 275, 276
Joseph, St,
155
INDEX
Joseph I, Emperor,
215
Joseph II, Emperor,
224, 225
Julio (Bernini's pupil),
115, 124
Julius II, Pope, 6, 16,
43
Kiev, 31, 227, 228,
233
Klostcrncuburg, 218
Knellcr, Sir CJodfrcy,
171
Kolomcnskoic,
232
Konarzewski family,
231
KiJchcl, Johann Jakob, 223
Kuks, 202, 222
La Chaize-Giraud,
274
La Rochefoucauld, Due de, 78
La Rochelle,
78
Ladislav of Poland, 228
Lagucrre, Louis, 185
Lanouce,
154, 274
Last Communion
of
StJerome (Domenichino),
37
Last Judgment (Michelangelo), 6, 17
Le Brun, Charles, loo-i, 103, 104, iii, 126,
127, 129, 133, 134, 137, 140, 141, 142, 185,
266, 267, 273
Le Hongre, 140, 270
Le Noir, Fleurant,
94, 96, 265, 266
Le Notre, Andre,
139
Le Sueur, Hubert, 167
Le Vau, Louis,
94, 103, 104, 105, 112, 115,
118, 119, 121, 122, 127, 129, 139, 172, 185,
269, 270, 272
Lecce, 80, 218
Lely, Sir Peter, 168, 171
Lemercier, Jacques, 87, no, in, 122, 269
Leo XI, Pope, 262
Leonardo da Vinci,
3, 7, 8, 87-8,
259
Leopold I, Emperor, 196, 200, 208-9, 210,
211
Lepautre, Antoine,
98, 172
Lepautre, Jean, 158, 274
Lescot, Pierre, 10, 86, no, in, 122, 268,
269, 270
Liechtenstein, Prince Karl-Eusebiu5 von,
208
Livre d'architecture d'autels et de chaninies
(Barbet). 158
LONDON:
Banqueting Hall, Whitehall, 165, 167,
169, 188, 275
Christ Church, Spitalfields, 186
Covent Garden, 165
Marlborough House, 165
Queen's House, Greenwich, 165, 181, 182,
183, 275
St George's, Bloomsbury, 1S6
St Martin-in-the Fields, 1
87
St Martin Ludgate, 178
St Mary Aldermanhury, 178
St Mary le Bow, 178
St Mary-le-Strand, 187
St Mary Woolnoth, 186
St Paul's Cathedral. 165, 16S-9, 172-7,
178, 182, 184, 1S8, 217, 276
St Stephen Walbrook, 178
301
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
302
St Vedast, 178
Westminster Abbey, 171, 187
Whitehall Palace, 165, 169, 170, 171, 180,
184, 275
Longhena, Baldassare,
194, 195, 197
Longinus, St, statue of (Bernini),
48,
262
Lorraine, Claude, 40, 65
Louis, St, 48, 155, 156, 246, 274
Louis XIII,
76, 78, 87,
III,
139, 156, 274
Louis XIV,
76, 89, 104-6, no, 132-4,
137,
147, 156, 184, 185, 210, 270, 271; state
entrance into Paris (August 1660),
94-102; and He Enchantee fete, 106-9; ^îd
plans for Louvre, 114-20, 125, 127-9,
267-8; Bernini's bust of, 119-20, 124,
129-30; and Versailles,
139-43, 180, 272
Louis XV, 268,
273
Louisa Albertoni, statue of (Bernini), 61
Lubartow, 231
Ludinilla, St, 202, 206
LuUi, Jean Baptiste, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108
137, 138, 140, 272, 273
Lunghi the Elder,
32
Lunghi the Younger,
33
Lurago, Carlo, 203
Luther, Martin,
3, 12, 28
Madema, Carlo,
32, 33-5, 36, 40, 42, 45, 46,
49,
230
Madonna ofLoretto (Caravaggio),
38
Malade Imaginaire, Le (Mohere),
137, 140
Malatesta, Sigismondo, 109
ManelU, Francesco, 71, 166
Mansart, Francois, 87, 112,
175,
220
Mantegna, Andrea, 8, 167
Mantua,
6, 7, 24-5, 241, 277
Maratta, Carlo,
65
Marco d'Avrano, 210
Mariana,
247, 251
Mariannita-Victoire, Infanta, 268
Marie-Therese, Queen of Louis XIV, 106,
107, no, 156; funeral of, 148-9
Marini, Giambattista,
199
Marlborough, ist Duke of, 184
Marot, Jean, 112, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124,
125, 126, 183
Martellangelo, Brother, 27
Martinelh, Domenico, 213, 280
Mathey, Jean-Baptiste, 204, 215
Mathias, Emperor, 76, 197
Matilda of Tuscany, statue of (Bernini),
46
May, Hugh, 171
Mayenne,
155
Mazarin, Cardinal
87, 88,
89, 91, 92, 93, 98,
103, 104, III
Medici family,
4
Melani, Atteo, 89, 105
Melin,
94, 97,
266
Melk, monastery of, 218-19, 220, 280
Menestrier, Father Claude, 145-6, 147-9
Mercurian, Vicar-General, 26, 27
Merida, 241
Meudon, Chateau, 104
Mexico City,
239, 241, 243
Michael Romanov, Czar,
77, 263
Michelangelo,
4, 5,
6-7, 8, 16,
17, 33, 34, 35,
40, 43, 46, 47, 49, 50, 51, 54, 56, 173, 176,
222, 255, 259,
260
Michna family, 203
Milo ofCrotona (Puget), 141
Milton, John, 71
Minas Geraes, 240, 251, 252
Minato, Franz, 208
Mitrovic, Vratislav de, 185
Mocchi, Francesco, 48, 130
Mohila, Peter, 228
Moliere, 104, 107, 136, 137, 138, 268
Monteverdi, Claudio,
195
Morro Grande, 250
Moscow, 232, 233,
235-6
Nantes, 20
Narychkine, Lev Kyrillovitch, 235-6
Nemcova, Bozena, 207
Neumann, Balthazar, 220, 223
Nicon, Patriarch,
235, 236
Niteroi, 283
Nuptials
of
Thetis and Pelens (CaproU),
93
Oliveira, Jose de, 246
Ordine-Nascokine, A. L., 230, 282
Orfeo (Rossi), 89-90, 91, 105
Orme, PhiUbert de
1',
10
Ottavio, Cardinal,
37
Ouchtomsky, Prince,
233
Ouro Preto, 247, 248-9, 250, 251, 252
Oxford, 186, 187
Palestrina, Taddeo Barberini, Prince of,
89
PaUadio, Andrea,
5,
31, 164, 165, 176, 178,
187-8, 190, 194
Parallele de Varchitecture antique et moderne, Le
(Freart), 171
PARIS, 10,
27, 48, 87-106, 109, 110-31,
133,
136-8, 143;
music and drama in, 88-92,
93,
105-6, 137-8; decoration for Louis
XIV's state entrance (August 1660),
94-102; Bernini's visit to, no, 114-24,
172; state funeral ceremonies in, 146-50
Bastille,
97
Beauvais mansion, 98, 172
Church of the Novitiate, 119
Church of the Oratory,
147
Faubourg Saint-Antoine, 97-8, 267
Fontaine des Innocents, 10
Hotel de Bourgogne, 105, 137
InvaUdes, Les,
143, 175, 181, 183, 217
Louvre, 10, 39, 63, 105, 110-31, 139, 140,
167, 172,
268-70
Marche-Neuf, 100, 267
Notre Dame,
99, 146, 147-9, 273
Palais-Royal,
90, 105, 137, 172
Place Dauphine, 100-2,
147, 267
Saint-Antoine-des-Champs, Abbey of,
97
Saint-Denis, Abbey of, 118, 119, 273
Saint-Germain, 116, 124, 128,
139
Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas, 143
Saint-Louis-en-l'Ile,
143
Saint-Nicolas-du-Chardoimet,
143
Saint Paul and Saint Louis, 27, 87,
260
Sainte-Anne-la-Royalc,
1
3 5
Sainte Chapelle,
48
Saintc-Maric-dcs-Monts,
27
Salle du Marais,
105
Sorboune,
59, 87
Tuilerics Palace,
94, 105, no, 115, 118,
119, 121, 124, 126, 128, 172
Val-dc-Grace,
87, 119, 129
Parma,
7-8,
9
Parmigianino, II,
9
Paul III, Pope, tomb of (Porta),
58
Paul V, Pope,
25, 33-4, 35, 36, 37
Pembroke, 4th Earl of,
170
Pereira, Alexandro Machado,
246
Perrault, Charles,
127
Perrault, Claude,
115, 125, 127, 129, 270
Peter of Alcantara, St,
247
Peter the Great,
233, 234, 236-7
PhiHp II of Spain, 11, 18, 76
Phihp IV of Spam,
94
Phihp V of Spain,
273
Piccolomini, Bishop Alessandro,
144
Piccolomini, Francesco,
273
Pius V, Pope,
15, 17
Plaisirs de Vile Enchantce, Les (fete), 106-9,
137, 255
Porno d'Oro, II (Cesti), 208
Pordenone, Almateo de, 208
Porta, Giacomo della, 16,
24, 32, 33, 34, 119,
259, 260
Porta, Guglielmo della,
58
Possevino, Antonio,
31
Poussin, Nicolas,
40, 65, 87, 98, 134, 135,
261
Pozzo, Andrea,
25, 64, 196-7, 212, 214, 221,
223, 260
PRAGUE, 80, 166, 202, 203-5, 207, 212,
215, 221-5
Charles Bridge,
204, 207,
221-2
Church of St Francis of Assisi, 204, 221
Clam-Gallas Palace, 215, 222
Hradcany Palace,
197,
200
Panna Maria Vitezna, 198, 277
St Nicolas de Mala Strana, 22, 220, 280
San Salvador,
203, 204
Wallenstein Palace,
199, 277
Prandtauer, Johami, 214, 217-19, 220
Pratt, Sir Roger, 170
Primaticcio, Francesco,
9
Princessc d'Elide (Mohere), 107-8, 268
Prospcttiua de' pittori e architetti (Pozzo),
197
Puebla,
243
Paget, Pierre, 141
Quellin, Arnold, 171
Quenzer, Johann Phihp, 208
Quinault, Phihppe,
137, 140
Quito, 241
Racine, Jean, 136. 137, 138, 272
Rainaldi, Carlo,
33, 36, 52, 65, 11 1, 112, 176,
233
Rainaldi, Girolamo,
52
Raincy, Chateau, 104
Rape
of
Proserpine (Bernini),
46
INDEX
Raphael,
7. ,
37, 40, 134. 167,
259
Rastrclli, Carlo,
233, 237
Recife,
245
Rcgnaudin, Thomas,
94, 97,
m, 265
Reiner, Laurent-Wcnccslas, 221
Retz, Cardinal de,
78
Riazaii,
235
Richelieu, Due de,
59, 76, 77, 82, 86,
87, 92,
133, 261, 264
Rio de Janeiro, 241, 245-6, 247, 251, 274,
284
Ripa, Cesare,
140
Robclot, Gaspard,
157
Rochefoucauld, Chltcau de la,
9
Romanelh, in
Romano, Giulio,
6, 7, 37
ROME,
5, 6,
7, 72, 87, 133, 145, 193, 230;
sacking of,
4, 28; papal town-planning
of, 15-17, 30 et seq.; artistic centre of
world, 38-40, 64-6, 134-5
Barberini Palace,
49-50, 64, 267
Castel Sant' Angelo, 6
Chiesa Nuova,
51, 64
Faniese Palace,
37
Gesu, 21-2, 23-7, 28, 31, 32, 64, 196, 219,
221, 230, 260
Palazzo Rospighosi,
37
Pantheon,
63, 173, 176, 178, 262
Piazza Navona, 63-4, loi, 261
Ponte Sant' Angelo, 61, 64
Quirinal, 16
St John Lateran,
32, 34, 43,
51-2, 62
St Peter's,
4, 6, 7, 16, 33-5, 39, 45-9, 52,
54-61, 117, 130, 146, 149, 158, 173, 176,
182, 204, 217, 259, 260, 262
SS Luca and Martina, 36, 64
SS Vincenzo and Anastasio,
33
San Carlalle Quattro Fontana (San
Carlino), 50-1, 62, 204, 261
San Carlo ai Catinari, 36
San Filippo Neri, Oratory of, 51
San Luigi dei Francesi,
25, 33,
260
San Marcello,
25, 260
Sant' Agnese,
44,
52-3, 175, 176, 204, 215
Sant Agostino, 25, 260, 261
Sant Andrea al Quirinale, 53-4, 6^, 175,
262
Sant Andrea della Fratte, 61, 62
Sant Andrea della Valle, 36, 65
Sant Ignazio,
33, 196, 212, 214, 221, 230,
260
Sant Ivo alia Sapienza,
45
Santa Maria, Campitelh,
33, 65
Santa Maria dei Monti,
36
Santa Maria del Popolo, 61
Santa Maria della Pace, 64, 175
Santa Maria della Strada, 23
Santa Maria della Vittoria, 32, 60, 198
Santa Maria Maggiore, 16, 32, 36. 240,
261
Santa Maria Monserrat, 25
Santa Maria, Via Lata,
a,
64
Santa Susanna,
32, 33
Sistine Chapel, Vatican,
4, 6, 36
Vatican,
6, 7, 16, 36
303
304
THE AGE OF GRANDEUR
Villa Ludovisi,
37
Rosenborg Palace,
164
Rossi, Luigi,
89
Rossi, Mathias de,
115, 124, 125, 126-7, 128
Rosso, II,
9
Rubens, Sir Peter Paul,
40, 87, 167
Rudolph II, Emperor, 166,
193
Rules
of
Architecture (SerUo),
9
Sahara,
247, 250
St Florian, 218, 219
Saint-Jean-de-Bere, 157-8
St Petersburg,
236, 237
Saint-Simon, Due de, 142-3
Sainte-Beuve, Charles Augustin,
83
Salamanca,
159, 243
Salzburg, 215
Sanguscz family,
231
Sanmicheli, Michele,
5
Sansovino,
Jacopo,
5, 164, 194
Santerem,
244
Sao Francisco,
250, 284
Sao
Joao del Rei,
247, 248-9
Sao Manoel de Pomba,
250
Sarge (Sarthe),
156, 274
Savoy, Prince Thomas of,
89
Scamozzi, Vincenzo,
135, 164, 194, 197
Schliiter, Andreas,
213
Schwarzenberg, Prince Ferdinand, 279-80
Seaton Delaval, 185-6
Sebastian, St,
247
Seguier, Chancellor,
96, 146-7, 148, 273
SerUo, Sebastiano,
9, 25
Siena, 61,
144
Sigismund Augustus of Poland, 227
Sixtus V, Pope,
15, 16; funeral of,
145, 273
Skarga, Peter,
31, 226, 281
Skreta, Karel, 205
Slavkov-Austerlitz,
214, 280
Slodtz,
150, 273
Spezza, Andrea,
199, 277
Stella, Paolo della,
197
Steyer, Father, 206
Stone, Nicholas,
171
Strozzi, Giulio, 88
Tartuffe (Moliere),
109
Tencala, Jean-Pierre, 213
Tepotzotlan,
243
Thomar, 11
Thornhill, Sir James,
177, 183
Thun, Count Michael,
207
Thynne, Thomas,
171
Tiepolo, Giovanni,
195
Tijou, Jean, 177
Tinoco the Younger,
244
Tintoretto, II,
5, 6, 21
Titian,
5, 6, 167, 170, 177
Todi, 22
Torelli, Giuseppe, 88-9, 91-2, 104, 105
Toulouse,
274
Tremignon, Alessandro,
194
Trevano, Jan, 230
Tristano, Giovanni,
24, 25, 64
Troisky-Lykov,
236
Troitsa Monastery, Zagorsk, 231-2,
233,
235, 236
Truth Unveiled by Time (Bernini), 60
Tubi, 140
Turenne, Vicomte de, 147-8, 273
Umbrete,
159, 243
Urban VIII, Pope,
43, 47, 49, 89, 261, 262;
tomb of (Bernini),
46,
58-9
Vaga, Perino del, 6
Valdice, Chartreuse of,
199
Valturio de Rimini,
87
Van Dyck, Sir Anthony,
167, 168, 171
Vanbrugh, Sir John, 182, 183-6, 215
Vannes, 158
Varin, Jean, 120, 121
Vatican City,
6, 7, 16, 36
Vaux-le-Vicomte, Chateau, 103-4, 172
Velasquez,
40, 65
VENICE,
5, 22, 105, 134, 164, 166, 181,
193-7
Asstmta,
195
Doge's Palace,
5, 21, 167
Frari, 6
Gesuiti Church, 22,
195
Palazzo Pesaro,
195
Piazza San Marco,
35
Rezzonico,
195
San Giorgio Maggiore,
194, 195
San Marco,
195
San Moise, 194-5
Santa Maria deUa Salute, 80, 81, 194, 217,
280
Santa Maria Zobenigo,
195
Scuola San Rocco, 6
Verona, 80
Veronese, Paulo,
5
Veronica, St, statue of (Mocchi),
48
Verrio, Antonio,
171
Versailles Palace, 106-9, II5. 125, 128, 129,
137, 138-43, 159, 180, 181, 183, 185, 216,
255, 272, 275
VIENNA, 80, 196, 202, 207-8, 210-14,
215-17, 221
Am Hof Church, 207
Belvedere Palace,
215, 280
Dietrichstein-Lobkowitz Palace, 213
Hofburg, 200, 216
Karlskirche, 216-17, 280
Liechtenstein Palace, 213, 280
Maria Ture, 220
St Peterskirche, 220, 231
Schonbrunn, 215, 216
University Church, 198, 214, 230, 280
Ursuline Convent, 208, 230
Vierzehnheihgen, 220, 223
Vigarani, Carlo,
137, 145, 272
Vigarani, Gaspare and Ludovico,
94,
106,
266-7
Vignola, Giacomo, 9-10, 16, 23-4, 25, 28,
31, 34, 64, 135, 204, 208
Vincent de Paul, St,
92, 93
Vitruuius Britannicus (Campbell), 187-8
Vitruvius PoUio, Marcus,
9, 129, 135
INDEX
Vivaldi, Gian Battista,
195
Wittenberg,
3,
12 iQr
Voiturc, Vincent,
89
Wohlmut, Michel,
197
Vouct, Simon,
87
Wotton, Sir Henry, 166
Vries, Adriaen de,
199
Wren, Sir Christopher, 172-8, 1 81-2, 188,
215, 216, 275, 276
Walker, Robert, 170
Wallenstein, Duke of Fricdland, 198-9, 204
Xavier St IS4-S
Warsaw, 229
Webb, John, 169, 171, 181,
275
Wcnceslas, St, 202, 205, 206, 221
Yves, St, 246
William III, 180
Wilno, 230-1, 281 Zagorsk, 231, 235
Wilton House, 169 Zdcraz Monastery, 205
Windsor Castle, 171 Zwiefalten,
274
Due
COLLEGE LIBRARY
Date Due
Returned Due Returned
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UNIVERSITY

grandeur that was loved, sought after,

emphasis on the picturesque, a profound sense of movement and a propensity

'// modo nostra' . But

'when there is a reason for and possibility of building, the

THE AGE OF GRANDEUR

proofenough that at this time

was enlarged to receive it. Nevertheless, had it been possible to place a

^has aroused as much criticism as praise, but is universally ack-

which means nevertheless, an average destruction of

though even by present-day standards that security was precarious enough.^

protection repaid by trust and loyaltykept the system ahve.

love poems and lyrics, tragi-comedies, farces, pastoral romances or picar-

that extraordinary evocation ofthe antique with exquisitely carved marble

and therefore a design of a closed crown would have to be substituted for

'We have done just as well

-Justice, Prudence, Temperance and Strength.

piety, love of the King, mihtary valour, wisdom, merit,

CLASSICISM AND FRENCH BAROQUE

perhaps of Peter and Paul, founders of the Church, or the

perhaps there had once been a reredos, no longer existing, that

it might have been a New Testament Tree of Jesseand without any

whichis a more accurate epithet than Classicistwhose work became over

^which later resulted in such a great change in

'you can't call

something that would be so clearly defined that it might command uni-

the Counter-Reformation, and the demographic and social changes that

proof, if any were needed, of how pre-

perhaps influenced by the monasteries

^preached to the assembled troops, just as a ser-

commissioned building after building, palaces in Prague and Vienna, and

even in the most unexpected inventions of Borrominiretains affinities

intersected. These sparsely populated regions were, by western standards,

^Peter Mohila, who had been Archimandrite of the Monastery of Caves

the religious crisis of the seventeenth century in RussiaPierre Pascal

Les temps modernes

his fate was to marry a 'Roman'it was

^no matter wherethe parents or rela-

even though he showed more

Vart moderne (Ed. d'histoire et d'art) (Paris,

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