Less than half a century after Suger, another twelfth-century historian, Gervase of Canterbury, recorded the history of the rebuilding of the choir of his church. (1) Gervaise, like Suger, was an acute observer and an able writer and chronicler. He, however, represents a younger generation's more factual attitude toward the world around him, and this, as well as his relatively uncommitted position within the monastery, enabled him to write a more objective account than Suger's. As he followed the reconstruction of the romanesque choir of the cathedral of Canterbury in the new style, he realized, to an extraordinary degree, that he was witness to a historically important event arid he took pains to explain the new forms in adequate new terms. (2) His grasp of the subtleties of gothic architecture rank hint among the great art critics of all time.

Little is known about Gervase's personal life except what appears in his writing. It is assumed that he was born about 1141 in the county of Kent. He was a monk at the cathedral of Canterbury from 1163 to 1210. He was at Canterbury in the years of strife between Henry 11 and Thomas h Becket, years of conflict which ended with the murder of the archbishop in the cathedral in 1170. In 1193 Gervase became sacristan of the monastery and died there in 1210.

The tract Of the Burning and Repair of the Church of Canterbury is brief and to the point. Gervase follows the description of the fire of 1174 and its damage to the church as he had known it with a graphic and concise year-by-year account of the reconstruction of the choir and crossing. He mentions the mode of procuring an architect, the time consumed in erecting each new part of the structure, the way in which old portions were adapted and worked up and, above all, the way in which new proportions, new forms, new spatial concepts and new tactile volumes were achieved. It took exactly ten building seasons to construct the new choir. Gervase's description comes to an end in 1184 with a brief summation of its completion.

1.The Conflagration. In the year of grace one thousand one hundred and seventy-four, by the just but occult judgment of God, the church of Christ at Canterbury was consumed by fire, in the forty-fourth year from its dedication [1130], that glorious choir, to wit, which had been so magnificently completed by the care and industry of Prior Conrad.

Now the manner of the burning and repair was as follows. In the aforesaid year, on the nones of September [September 5, between 3:00 and 4:00 p.m.], at about the ninth hour, and during an extraordinarily violent south wind, a fire broke out before the gate of the church, and outside the walls of the monastery, by which three cottages were half destroyed. From thence, while the citizens were assembling and subduing the fire, cinders and sparks carried aloft by the high wind, were deposited upon the church, and being driven by the fury of the wind between the joints of the lead, remained there amongst the half rotten planks, and shortly glowing with increasing heat, set fire to the rotten rafters; from these the fire was communicated to the larger beams and their braces, no one yet perceiving or helping. For the well-painted ceiling below, and the sheet-lead covering above, concealed between them the fire that had arisen within.

Meantime the three cottages, whence the mischief had arisen, being destroyed, and the popular excitement having subsided, everybody went home again, while the neglected church was consuming with internal fire unknown to all. But beams and braces burning, the flames rose to the slopes of the roof; and the sheets of lead yielded to the increasing heat and began to melt. Thus the raging wind, finding a freer entrance, increased the fury of the fire; and the flames beginning to shew themselves, a cry arose in the church-yard: "See! see! the church is on fire."

Then the people and the monks assemble in haste, they draw water, they brandish their hatchets, they run up the stairs, full of eagerness to save the church, already, alas! beyond their help. But when they reach the roof and perceive the black smoke and scorching flames that pervade it throughout, they abandon the attempt in despair, and thinking only of their own safety, make all haste to descend.

And now that the fire had loosened the beams from the pegs that bound them together, the half-burnt timbers fell into the choir below upon the seats of the monks; the seats, consisting of a great mass of woodwork, caught fire, and thus the mischief grew worse and worse. And it was marvellous, though sad, to behold how that glorious choir itself fed and assisted the fire that was destroying it. For the flames multiplied by this mass of timber, and extending upwards full fifteen cubits [about 25 feet], scorched and burnt the walls, and more especially injured the columns of the church.

And now the people ran to the ornaments of the church, and began to tear down the pallia and curtains, some that they might save, but some to steal them. The reliquary chests were thrown down from the high beam and thus broken, and their contents scattered; but the monks collected them and carefully preserved them from the fire. Some there were, who, inflamed with a wicked and diabolical cupidity, feared not to appropriate to themselves the things of the church, which they had saved from the fire.

In this manner the house of God, hitherto delightful as a paradise of pleasures, was now made a despicable heap of ashes, reduced to a dreary wilderness, and laid open to all the injuries of the weather.

The people were astonished that the Almighty should suffer such things, and maddened with excess of grief and perplexity, they tore their hair and beat the walls and pavement of the church with their heads and hands, blaspheming the Lord and His saints, the patrons of the church; and many, both of laity and monks, would rather have laid down their lives than that the church should have so miserably perished.

For not only was the choir consumed in the fire, but also the infirmary, with the chapel of St. Mary, and several other offices in the court; moreover many ornaments and goods of the church were reduced to ashes.

2. The Operations of the First Year. Bethink thee now what mighty grief oppressed the hearts of the sons of the Church under this great tribulation: I verily believe the afflictions of Canterbury were no less than those of Jerusalem of old, and their wailings were as the lamentations of Jeremiah; neither can mind conceive, or words express, or writing teach, their grief and anguish. Truly that they might alleviate their miseries with a little consolation, they put together as well as they could, an altar and station in the nave of the church, where they might wail and howl, rather than sing, the diurnal and nocturnal services. Meanwhile the patron saints of the church, St. Dunstan and St. Elfege, had their resting-place in that wilderness. Lest, therefore, they should suffer even the slightest injury from the rains and storms, the monks, weeping and lamenting with incredible grief and anguish, opened the tombs of the saints and extricated them in their coffins from the choir, but with the greatest difficulty and labour, as if the saints themselves resisted the change.

They disposed them as decently as they could at the altar of the Holy Cross in the nave. Thus, like as the children of Israel were ejected from the land of promise, yea, even from a paradise of delight, that it might be like people, like priest, and that the stones of the sanctuary might be poured out at the corners of the streets; so the brethren remained in grief and sorrow for five years in the nave of the church, separated from the people only by a low wall.

Meantime the brotherhood sought counsel as to how and in what manner the burnt church might be repaired, but without success; for the columns of the church, commonly termed the pillars [piers], were exceedingly weakened by the heat of the fire, and were scaling in pieces and hardly able to stand, so that they frightened even the wisest out of their wits.

French and English artificers were therefore summoned, but even these differed in opinion. On the one hand, some undertook to repair the aforesaid columns without mischief to the walls above. On the other hand, there were some who asserted that the whole church must be pulled down if the monks wished to exist in safety. This opinion, true as it was, excruciated the monks with grief, and no wonder, for how could they hope that so great a work should be completed in their days by any human ingenuity.

However, amongst the other workmen there had come a certain William of Sens, (3) a man active and ready, and as a workman most skillful both in wood and stone. Him, therefore, they retained, on account of his lively genius and good reputation, and dismissed the others. And to him, and to the providence of God was the execution of the work committed.

And he, residing many days with the monks and carefully surveying the burnt walls in their upper and lower parts, within and without, did yet for some time conceal what he found necessary to be done, lest the truth should kill them in their present state of pusillanimity.

But he went on preparing all things that were needful for the work, either of himself or by the agency of others. And when he found that the monks began to be somewhat comforted, he ventured to confess that the pillars [piers] rent with the fire and all that they supported must be destroyed if the monks wished to have a safe and excellent building. At length they agreed, being convinced by reason and wishing to have the work as good as he promised, and above all things to live in security; thus they consented patiently, if not willingly, to the destruction of the choir.

And now he addressed himself to the procuring of stone from beyond sea. He constructed ingenious machines for loading and unloading ships, and for drawing cement and stones. He delivered molds for shaping the stones to the sculptors who were assembled, and diligently prepared other things of the same kind. The choir thus condemned to destruction was pulled down, and nothing else was done in this year . . . (4)

5. Operations of the First Five Years. The master began, as I stated long ago, to prepare all things necessary for the new work, and to destroy the old. In this way the first year was taken up. In the following year, that is, after the feast of Saint Bertin (Sept. 5, 1175) before the winter, he erected four pillars [piers], that is, two on each side, and after the winter two more were placed, so that on each side were three in order. (5) Above these and above the outside wall of the aisles lie erected appropriate arches and vaulting, namely, three vaulted compartments . . . on each side. I use the word keystone . . . for the whole quadripartite vault . . . because the keystone, placed in the middle, locks and unites the parts coming from each side. The second year of building ended with these works [1176].

In the third year he set two piers on each side, adorning the two outermost ones [farthest to the east] with engaged columns of marble and making them main piers, since in them crossing . . . and arms of the transept were to meet. After he had set upon these the quadripartite vaults . . . with the [complete] vaulting, lie supplied the lower triforium from the principal tower [the old tower over the crossing in Lanfranc's edifice] to the above mentioned piers of the crossing, that is, to the [new western] transept, with many marble columns. Over this triforium lie placed another triforium of different material, and the upper windows. Furthermore [he built] the three ribbed vaults of the great vault [of the nave of the choir], namely, from the [old] tower over the crossing to the [new eastern] transept. All of this seemed to us and to all who saw it incomparable and worthy of the highest praise. Joyful, therefore, at this glorious beginning and hopeful of its future completion, we were solicitous to hasten the accomplishment of the work, our hearts full of fervent longing. With that the third year was ended and the fourth begun.

In that summer [1178] lie erected ten piers, starting from the transept . . . five on a side. The first two of these he decorated with marble engaged columns and constituted piers of the crossing like the two other [western] ones. Above these he set ten arches and the vaults. But after the two triforia and the upper windows on both sides were completed and he had prepared the machines . . . for vaulting the great vault (6) suddenly the beams broke under his feet, and he fell to the ground, stones and timbers accompanying his fall, from the height of the capitals of the upper vault, that is to say, of fifty feet. Thus sorely bruised by the blows from the beams and stones he was rendered helpless alike to himself and for the work, but no other person than himself was in the least injured. Against the master only was this vengeance of God or spite of the devil directed.

The master, thus hurt, remained in his bed for some time under medical care in expectation of recovering, but was deceived in this hope, for his health amended not. Nevertheless, as the winter approached, and it was necessary to finish the upper vault, he gave charge of the work to a certain ingenious and industrious monk, who was the overseer of the masons; an appointment whence much envy and malice arose, because it made this young man appear more skillful than richer and more powerful ones. But the master reclining in bed commanded all things that should be done in order. Thus the vault between the four main piers was completed; in the keystone of this quadripartite ribbed vault . . . the choir and the arms of the transept seem, as it were, to convene .... Two quadripartite ribbed vaults were also constructed on each side before winter [1178]. Heavy continuous rains did not permit of more work. With that the fourth year was concluded and the fifth begun September 6, 1178]. In the same year, the fourth [1178], there occurred an eclipse of the sun September 13, 1178 at the sixth hour before the master's fall. (7)

And the master, perceiving that he derived no benefit from the physicians, gave up the work, and crossing the sea, returned to his home in France. And another succeeded him in the charge of the works; William by name, English by nation, small in body, but in workmanship of many kinds acute and honest. He in the summer of the fifth year [1179] finished the cross [transept] on each side, that is, the south and the north, and turned the ciborium [put the vaults] over the great Altar, which the rains of the previous year had hindered, although all was prepared. Moreover, he laid the foundation for the enlargement of the church at the eastern part, because a chapel of St. Thomas [Becket] was to be built there.

For this was the place assigned to him; namely, the chapel of the Holy Trinity, where he celebrated his first mass, where he was wont to prostrate himself with tears and prayers, under whose crypt for so many years he was buried, where God for his merits had performed so many miracles, where poor and rich, kings and princes, had worshipped him, and whence the sound of his praises had gone forth into all lands.

The master William began, on account of these foundations, to dig in the cemetery of the monks, from whence he was compelled to disturb the bones of many holy monks. These were carefully collected and deposited in a large trench, in that corner which is between the chapel and the south side of the infirmary house. Having, therefore, formed a most substantial foundation for the exterior wall with stone and cement, he erected the wall of the crypt as high as the bases of the windows.

Thus was the fifth year employed and the beginning of the [sixth autumn 1179].

6. The Entry into the New Choir. In the beginning of the sixth year from the fire, and at the time when the works were resumed [1180], the monks were seized with a violent longing to prepare the choir, so that they might enter it at the coming Easter. And the master, perceiving their desires, set himself manfully to work, to satisfy the wishes of the convent. He constructed, with all diligence, the wall which encloses the choir and presbytery. He erected the three altars of the presbytery. He carefully prepared a resting-place for St. Dunstan and St. Elfege. A wooden wall to keep out the weather [from the east] was setup transversely between the penultimate pillars [piers] at the eastern part, and had three glass windows in it.

The choir, thus hardly completed even with the greatest labour and diligence, the monks were resolved to enter on Easter Eve with the new fire. (8)

7. Remaining Operations of the Sixth Year. . . . . Moreover, in the same summer, that is of the sixth year, the outer wall round the chapel of St. Thomas, begun before the winter, was elevated as far as the turning [springing] of the vault. But the master had begun a tower at the eastern part outside the circuit of the wall at it were, the lower vault of which was completed before the winter.

The chapel of the Holy Trinity above mentioned was then levelled to the ground; this had hitherto remained untouched out of reverence to St. Thomas, who was buried in the crypt. But the saints who reposed in the upper part of the chapel were translated elsewhere, and lest the memory of what was then done should be lost, I will record somewhat thereof ....

The translation of these Fathers having thus been effected, the chapel, together with its crypt, was destroyed to the very ground; only that the translation of St. Thomas was reserved until the completion of his chapel. For it was fitting and manifest that such a translation should be most solemn and public. (9) In the mean time, therefore, a wooden chapel, sufficiently decent for the place and occasion, was prepared around and above his tomb. Outside of this a foundation was laid of stones and cement, upon which eight pillars [piers] of the new crypt, with their capitals, were completed. The master also carefully opened an entrance from the old to the new crypt. And thus the sixth year was employed, and part of the seventh. But before I follow the works of this seventh year, it may not be amiss to recapitulate some of the previous ones, which have either been omitted from negligence or purposely for the sake of brevity.

8. Explanations. (10) It was said above, that after the fire practically all the old parts of the choir were torn down and transformed into a new edifice of noble form .... But now it must be stated in what the difference of the two works consists. The form of the old and new piers is the same and also their thickness is the same, but their length is different. That is to say, the new piers were increased in their length by about twelve feet. In the old capitals the work was plane; in the new ones the chisel work is subtle. There, twenty-two piers stood in the passage around the choir; here, on the other hand, are twenty-eight. There, the arches and everything else had been made flat din relief, as though done with an axe and not with a chisel; here, there is suitable chisel work on almost all things. (11) No marble columns were to be found there, but here there are innumerable ones. There, in the passage around the choir, there were quadripartite groined vaults . . .here, they are provided with ribs . . .and keystones. . . There, a wall, built above the piers, divided the arms of the transept from the choir, but here, not separated from the crossing, they seem to meet in the one keystone in the middle of the great vault that rests on the four main piers. There was a wooden ceiling there, adorned with excellent painting; here, there is a vault, gracefully wrought of stone and light tufa. There is only one Iriforium; here, there are two in the nave of the choir and a third in the aisle. All this, if one wishes to understand it, will be revealed more clearly by the sight of the church than by words. In any case, this must be known, that the new work is as much higher than the old as the upper windows, both those of the nave . . .and those of the aisles of the choir, are raised by the marble intermediate story. But lest anyone in future times be doubtful as to why the great width of the choir next to the tower should be so much contracted at its head at the end of the church, I did not consider it superfluous to give the reasons. (12) One reason is, that the two surviving] towers of St. Anselm and of St. Andrew, placed in the circuit of each side of the old church [flanking the passage around the older choir on both sides, would not allow the breadth of the choir to proceed in the direct line. Another reason is, that it was agreed upon and necessary that the chapel of St. Thomas should be erected at the head of the church [choir], where the chapel of the Holy Trinity stood, and this was much narrower than the choir.

The master, therefore, not choosing to pull down the said towers, and being unable to move them entire, set out the breadth of the choir in a straight line, as far as the beginning of the towers .... Then, receding slightly on either side of the towers, and preserving as much as he could the breadth of the passage outside the choir [ambulatory] on account of the processions which were there frequently passing, he gradually and obliquely drew in his work, so that from opposite the altar . . . it might begin to contract, and from thence, at the third pillar [pier] . . . might be so narrowed as to coincide with the breadth of the chapel, which was named of the Holy Trinity. Beyond these, four pillars [piers] . . . were set on the sides at the same distance as the last, but of a different form; and beyond these other four . . . were arranged in a circle, and upon these the superposed work (of each side) was brought together and terminated. This is the arrangement of the pillars [piers].

The outer wall, which extends from the aforesaid towers, first proceeds in a straight line, is then bent into a curve, and thus in the round tower the wall on each side comes together in one, and is there ended. All which may be more clearly and pleasantly seen by the eyes than taught in writing. But this much was said that the differences between the old and the new work might be made manifest.

9. Operations of the Seventh, Eighth, and Tenth Years. Now let us carefully examine what were the works of our mason in this seventh year from the fire [1181], which, in short, included the completion of the new and handsome crypt, and above the crypt the exterior walls of the aisles up to their marble capitals. The [aisle] windows, however, the master was neither willing nor able to turn [complete], on account of the approaching rains. Neither did he erect the interior pillars [last piers in the interior]. Thus was the seventh year finished, and the eighth begun.

In this eighth year [1182] the master erected eight interior pillars piers at the end of the choirs . . . and turned the arches and the vault with the windows in the circuit [ambulatory]. He also raised the tower [of the east crossing up to the bases of the highest windows under the vault. In the ninth year [1183] no work was done for want of funds. In the tenth year [1184] the upper windows of the tower [over the crossing], together with the vault, were finished. Upon the pillars [piers of the transept arms] was placed a lower and an upper triforium, with windows and the great vault. Also was made the upper roof where the cross stands aloft, and the roof of the aisles [transept arms] as far as the laying of the lead. The tower was covered in, and many other things done this year. In which year Baldwin bishop of Worcester was elected to the rule of the church of Canterbury on the eighteenth kalend of January, -and was enthroned there upon the feast of St. Dunstan next after ....

(1) The English translation of the Latin tract Gervasii Cantuariensis tractatus de combustione et reparatione Cantuariensis ecclesiae is taken from Robert Willis, The Architectural History of Canterbury Cathedral (London: Longman and Co., w. Pickering, and G. Bell, 1845), pp.32-62. Willis breaks the original text into sections. Also from Willis comes the background information on the earlier history of the church. Wherever Willis' translation of the Latin uses antiquated or insufficient, technical terms, his terminology has been replaced with the one used by Frankl, The Gothic, pp. 24-35; special mention is made wherever Frankl's wording replaces Willis'. Passages reprinted by permission of Princeton University Press. Copyright, 1960. Geoffrey Webb, Architecture in Britain: The Middle Ages, The Pelican History of Art, ed. Nikolaus Pevsner, 2nd ed. (London: Penguin Books, Ltd., 1965), pp. 72-74; figs. 44, 45, pls. 64-66, should be consulted for illustrations. For the Latin text see Julius von Schlosser, Quellenbuch zur Kunstgeschichte des abendlaendischen Mittelalters, N.F., VIl (Vienna: Carl Graeser, 1896), 252-65.

(2) Frankl, The Gothic, p. 34.

(3) (Sens is a sizable town of France in the district of Champagne, 84 miles southeast of Paris. The nave of the cathedral, which was completed about 1168, has several peculiarities in common with the work of Canterbury; Willis, Architectural History, p.35; n.e.)

(4) At this point Gervase inserts the early history of the church, extracted from older chronicles. He follows this with the description of the church as he knew it before the fire. The nave, from the main crossing tower toward the west, was still the one built by Archbishop Lanfranc between 1070 and 1077, after an other fire in the earlier Saxon church. Lanfranc's nave was to remain standing until the second half of the fourteenth century. Coming from Normandy, where he had grown up and was abbot of the Abbaye-aux-Hommes at Caen until his departure for Canterbury, Lanfranc rebuilt his new church after such Norman models as the abbey church of Jumieges, which was completed in 1067 shortly before his departure for England. Lanfranc's choir, however, had been rebuilt within one generation between 1100 and 1126 in the fully developed Romanesque style, and it was this choir whose destruction Gervase witnessed in 1174.

(5) In the annals of these operations the "years" of which Gervase speaks begin with the 6th of September, the day following St. Bertin's Day, on which the fire occurred. At the end of the first year's operations Gervase says: "In the following year, that is, after the feast of St. Bertin," such and such works were clone before the winter, and such and such works after the winter; only in summing up his enumeration of the works of the third year does he mention specifically the work done during the remaining months of the calendar year between September 5, 1177, and the period when the winter put a stop to the works; Willis, Architectural History, pp.49-50; n.g.

(6) The text between note 5 and this point is from Frankl, The Gothic, pp. 27-28.

(7) This is, of course, the autumn of the fourth calendar year since the fire. The partial eclipse of the sun of September 13, 1178, was visible in Canterbury between approximately ten and twelve o'clock, and Gervase gives a detailed account of all its phases. The fall of master William occurred about five o'clock in the afternoon of the same day. We notice that the master had prepared the machines (scaffoldings?) for vaulting the great vault by September 1178. After the accident the master's substitute completed the vault of the eastern transept; then work was interrupted by rain; Frankl, The Gothic, pp. 28-29 and n.12; Willis, Architectural History, pp.49-50, n.g. Frankl's version of the text, pp.28-29 is used starting with "Thus the vault between . . ."

(8) Cum novo igne, that is, the lighting of the paschal candle, which took place on Easter Eve. The candle was left burning until Ascension Day; Willis, Architectural History, pp.53-54; n.k,m.

(9) The solemn translation of the body of Saint Thomas from the tomb in the crypt to the shrine in the chapel of the Holy Trinity behind the new choir did not take place until July 7, 1220, the fiftieth anniversary of his martyrdom. Yet the cult of the saint assumed, almost at once, a remarkable growth. The funds for the construction seem to have been at least partially supplied from the oblations at the tomb; Willis, Architectural History, p.62n. We have the account of an Italian visitor to the shrine in 1496: "The magnificence of the tomb of Saint Thomas the Martyr, Archbishop of Canterbury, surpasses all belief. This, withstanding its great size, is entirely covered over with plates of pure gold; but the gold is scarcely visible from the variety of precious stones with which it is studded, such as sapphires, diamonds, rubies, and emeralds; and on every side that the eye turns, something more beautiful than the other appears. .And these beauties of nature are enhanced by human skill, for the gold is carved and engraved in beautiful designs, both large and small, and agates, jaspers, and cornelians set in relief, some of the cameos being of such a size that I dare not mention it. But everything is left far behind by a ruby, not larger than a man's thumb nail, which is set to the right of the altar. The church is rather dark and particularly so where the shrine is placed, and when we went to see it the sun was nearly gone down, and the weather was cloudy; yet I saw that ruby as well as if I had it in my hand; they say it was the gift of a king of France"; L. F. Salzman, English Life in the Middle Ages (London: H. Milford, Oxford University Press, 1926), p.278. Salzman establishes also that the evaluation of the wealth of the shrine at the time of its confiscation under Henry VIII, barely more than a generation later, was about one million pounds in modern money.

(10) The text from here to note 12 is taken from Frankl, The Gothic, pp. 30-31.

(11) Willis, Architectural History, p.58, fig. 8 and nt, and Webb, Architecture in Britain pls.65b, 66, demonstrate the differences by comparing moldings from the Romanesque choir with those from the new structure; the earlier is geometric and linear, while the later is foliated, rounded and undercut.

(12) For a thoughtful clarification of Gervase's terminology, which aimed at the clearest possible distinction between different vault forms, see Frankl, The Gothic, pp.31-34.

* Teresa G. Frisch, Gothic Art 1140 - c. 1450: Sources and Documents, University of Toronto Press in association with the Medieval Academy of America, 1987.