beauty, but they do not afford us a true illustration of the Gothic style. This truest form of Gothic, that which alone is really Gothic, or, in other words, really a new and consistent style, differing fundamentally in both its structural and decorative systems from all other styles, is, it may as well be said here, native to France only. Hence upon the Gothic of France our definition is necessarily founded.
This Gothic art, like every other great art, was, in its completeness, of short duration. After a considerable period of preparation and germination, a period during which the Romanesque—first in Lombardy, and afterwards in Normandy—had been reaching out more and more after new principles, a combination of happy conditions conspired gradually to bring it into full and fair being. Early in the twelfth century was brought about in Northern Gaul that fine balance of ethnologic, religious, social, and political influences of which the development of Gothic architecture is among the happiest results. But with the quickly succeeding disturbance of this nice adjustment of conditions the character of the art gradually changed, and a course of decline became inevitable and rapid. If we would truly know Gothic art we must study it in the vigour of its early life. Its characteristics in this state are what I have attempted briefly to describe, and shall, in the course of the succeeding chapters, endeavour more fully to illustrate.
The edifice which chiefly stimulated Gothic invention was the cathedral—the leading object at once of popular, municipal, and ecclesiastic enthusiasm. In it were centred all the most potent and active interests, religious and social; and the best genius of the time was expended upon it. The cathedral church especially was the outgrowth of the growing freedom from monastic and feudal oppression, and an expression of monarchical and communal organisation, as well as of religious faith and aspiration. So close, at this time, was the connection between things civil and religious that popular monuments could not fail to partake of the nature of both. History affords no parallel to the spirit which gave rise to the Gothic cathedral. The nearest approach to it was that which produced the Greek temple. Both were conditions of intense popular enthusiasm engaging with religious ardour in the construction and adornment
