Architecture and Narrative: A Portuguese Case from the Twelfth to the Eighteenth Centuries
Inês Tavares Correia At the beginning of the twentieth century a series of publications by Portuguese authors explored the topic of the Order of Christ, Portugal’s heir to the Order of the Temple, and its role in the formation of the Portuguese nation. At the time, and as a result of its intellectual context, early twentieth century historiography found itself in a period in which, influenced by nationalist ideology, it sought to draw on history for a gallery of icons and symbols that it could appropriate, that fact largely dictating the nature of the publications that appeared. As a result, when addressing the topic, the role of architecture in the formation of a state and, subsequently, in the expression of a national mission was only loosely threaded on. In its politically charged quest, drawing on a single dimension, historiography failed to go beyond the imagetic device that was the Manueline Church of the Convent of Christ, the Order’s stronghold and a national emblem (FIG. 1). While addressing the fundamental issue that is the imagetic narrative associated with the Manueline Church, this article will attempt to construct a larger logic, bridging the gap between the power of imagery and the architectural paradigms inherent to the building,
ultimately deconstructing the architectural narrative that it presents. Proclaiming the vital role of the Order of Christ in the construction of a modern state in Portugal, authors delved into the idea that the Convent of Christ, as an architectural ensemble, more than just an expression of the nation’s achievements, helped to construct and define the country, ultimately acting as a banner for an expansionist nation to rally round. While interested in constructing a politically relevant national image, based on the nation’s territorial conquests and the period of its Maritime Discoveries, their interest focused on the significance of architecture as an imagetic signifier. In doing so, authors overlooked the architectural impact of this ensemble, in itself a Portuguese variation on the Late Gothic, and its complexity, but chose instead to concentrate solely on its symbolic value. While its symbolic value is undeniable, it is, nevertheless, impossible to comprehend without a grasp of the structure’s architectural basis, as this very basis was what allowed it to play a significant role in the construction of a nation. A product of a much larger narrative – the formation of the European continent and
Fig.1 Depiction of the west façade of the Convent of Christ and the Chapter Window, viewed from the Santa Barbara Cloister. Image by António Correia Barreto and João Pedroso, 1860s
the role played in it by religious orders – the Convent of Christ in Tomar embodies a narrative of Portugal spanning six centuries, from the twelfth to the eighteenth. Extending beyond its formal simplicity into a play of intricacy and detailing, its architectural definition suggests a particular concern with the definition of fundamentally clear and simple volumes where, ultimately, the idea of a visual discourse is expanded upon through the ornamentation of the architectural form, in an elaborate narrative of Portugal’s unsung story. In founding the city of Tomar,1 in 1162, Gualdim Paes, Master of the Order of the Temple in Portugal, saw the need to settle both public and private places of worship. The Igreja de Santa Maria do Olival answered the former need whereas the Charola, the round oratory inside the fortification of the Castle of Tomar, fulfilled the latter role. In doing so, possibly even following an imagetic model of the Promised Land, the Order of the Temple encouraged the settling of a larger urban area and furthered its growth, accompanying the evolution of the Order and the Convent. With the defeat of Christianity to the east and the rediscovered religious piety to the west – following Portugal’s period of Reconquista – Portugal advanced down to the northern coast of Africa, setting the tone for the expansionist ambitions of the Crown. Supported by its belief and its energy, the young kingdom that it was, Portugal reached for the Christian religion as the banner under which it could grow, ultimately fulfilling other economic needs. That, in turn, would support the construction of the new architectural ensemble, which was to be followed by others, replacing the temples to Muhammad erected by the
invading armies. After a period of establishment and growth, several buildings were erected throughout Portugal, including the Mosteiro da Batalha, suggesting that, as in other European nations, an architectural style was already taking shape, embodying a degree of grace and originality.
The Manueline Church: The Tripartite Plan In 1492, a Chapter of the Order of Christ was held at Tomar, convening to decide on the future of the Convent and its architectural discourse. Not long afterwards, in 1495, Bartolomeu Dias doubled the Cabo das Tormentas and in 1498 Vasco da Gama arrived in India by sea, shortly followed by Pedro Álvares Cabral in 1500, with the discovery of a sea route to Brazil. Portugal was, therefore, at the apex of what it considered to be its historical mission, and at the same time at the height of its artistic individuality. The cross of the sublime Order of Christ, passing from the stern of the varinéis2 to the bow and sails of the naus,3 became Portugal’s ensign at sea, bringing the name and flag of the nation to the world. The Crown’s expansionist ambitions and its glories and successes seem to have imagetically dictated the decreed expansion of the Convent. Under the rule of King D. Manuel I – from 1495 to 1521 – and in celebration of the grand feats accomplished overseas, the Convent’s expansion continued in a style that would come to be known as Manueline, or Portuguese Late Gothic, inspired by the architectural language of the Maritime Discoveries, giving their symbolic significance full breadth. Adding to the Charola, the plan of the new longitudinal church, attributed to Diogo de Arruda,4 was
laid out from east to west, dictated by the original positioning of the round oratory and the other constructions that backed onto it (FIG. 2). The slope of the site forced the development of the Church on two levels, one for the Choir and the other for the Sacristy, the latter being used for a long period of time as the place of gathering for the Chapters of the Order, hence the name Chapter Room. The nave was divided into three sections by
Fig.2 Plan of the Manueline Church and its insertion within the patios of the Convent of Christ in Tomar. Below it lie the Santa Bárbara Cloister and, to the right, the D. João III Cloister
four large ogival arches, each of them starting an ogival vault in the roof, continued into the Choir Room on the upper floor. Of the three sections, one defines the double-floor-height area which provides access to the Chapter Room, the Charola, and, through a corridor, the stairs leading up to the Choir. This very deliberate in-between space seems to come to define the perception that one should have from the oratory, a feeling of might impressing itself on the viewer as the new ogival arch rips into the façade of the sixteen-sided polygon at the same time that one is struck with humbleness when ascending from the Chapter Room to the middle ground. The ‘wide and imposing arch is abundantly painted with the medallions of the Evangelists on the frames and plinths; in the center, the Cross of the Order. To the South, the pulpit, a delicate work in marble on a round base and highlighted with a parapet balustrade and a cupola above; on the wall a portal surrounded by elegant ionic columns.’5 The vaulted ceiling of the Choir, which is ‘crossed by ribs, thrusting out from brackets profusely decorated with vegetable motifs and the traditional Manueline insignias supported and brandished by winged figures’6 (FIG. 3), seems to further this perception of the verticality of the space and is inevitably similar to that of the Mosteiro dos Jerónimos, another Manueline work of the same period on which several of the architects7 involved in the Convent of Christ later worked. Illuminated by four large windows which, ‘with side columns on a Gothic base and a shaft ornamented with trunks and radiating figures’,8 stand at the sides of the longitudinal plan, the Choir is topped at its west façade by a rose window, ‘molded on the inside by
Fig.3 View from the Charola, the round oratory, overlooking the Choir. The windows of both the north and south façades are visible as well as the rose window which tops the west façade
Fig.4 View from the Choir inside the Manueline Church overlooking the arch ripping through the round oratory, by João de Castilho. Also visible are the ceiling ribs crossing the space and defining a continuous movement and spatiality
symmetrically chased-out flutings’,9 completing the illumination. The Choir was completed by a line of stalls which would define the space in the elevated Choir, built by the Fleming Olivier de Gand and the Spaniard Fernão Muñoz; those stalls have since been lost, presumably during the French invasions of the nineteenth century. ‘The line was made up of three parts, forming the letter U and the two lines of stalls at the sides were dominated by the magnificent throne of the Great Master. This, in turn, was dominated by an enormous cupola comparable to a finial containing statues of angels bearing symbols of the Passion.’10 Construction of the space below the Choir began in 1510 according to a plan by Diogo de Arruda, originally intended for the Sacristy, at the request of the King, D. Manuel I, who stated ‘that it should be vaulted and the inner and outer faces of the stonework like the building of the choir, and it should have three windows, one at the top and two at the sides, which should have the best iron and should be of the thickness of the walls.’11 With its initial function abandoned, the space of the Sacristy became the meeting room for the Order, the place where the Chapters were held, following the failure to complete the Chapter House,12 begun under the guidance of João de Castilho, which faced the door of the Church. Although construction began under the direction of Diogo de Arruda it was ultimately completed by João de Castilho, as Arruda, one of the Crown’s most prominent architects, was at the time sent to Africa to collaborate in construction along the northwestern coast, in Safi and Azamor.13 The Sacristy’s space followed in the logic of the upper Choir with a vaulted ceiling, com-
plete ‘with sectional arches protruding from pointed brackets, in a strange and inventive flattening of the arch.’14 The ornamentation of the windows on the inside remains today, the most remarkable being the one to the west, defining the exterior elevation. There, ‘although the motifs belong to the decorative style of the end of the Gothic period in Europe, the way in which they are combined remind us of Indian art’,15 again reflecting the imagetic influence the Maritime Discoveries exerted over the expansion of this Church. The manner in which Diogo de Arruda established a clear division between the Charola and the two new spaces of the Choir and the Chapter Room serves to emphasize the magnificent arch which, ripping through the west façade of the original oratory, becomes central to Arruda’s design by inserting the doubleheight space (FIG. 4). At the same time, by defining the ogival vaulting of the ceiling and extending it beyond that space and into the Choir, Arruda achieved an astounding effect of continuity that, while clearly partitioned, formed one space within the whole. The extension of the Church effectively furthered the architectural styles present at the time in Portugal while reflecting the influence exerted upon the nation as a whole by the Maritime Discoveries. Patent on the inside of the building they are at their utmost expression on the exterior elevations where they truly begin a discourse on the feats and glories of Portugal as an exploratory and ambitious kingdom. A consequence of the period of history in which Portugal was reveling in its feats, it is, at the same time, at architectural homage to its achievements. Vieira Guimarães, born in Tomar and an avid scholar of the Convent, put it best when, at
the start of the twentieth century, he said: ‘The Pyramids of Egypt are the pages of the living history of this great people; the grandiose ruins of Nimrud witness the feats and the might of the ancient kings of Assyria; we are told of the greatness of Persia from the grandiose remains of the palaces and castles of Persepolis; the inimitable statues and basreliefs of the Parthenon speak, today still, in eloquent manner of the sublime Hellenic civilization; the temples, basilicas, amphitheaters, circus and aqueducts attest to the wondrous greatness and glory of the superb empire of the Roman emperors; the open Gothic cathedrals remind us of the civilizing influence of Christian France; the palace of the Doges holds the opulence of Venice perpetual; Salamanca, in its magnificent plasteresco, immortalizes the chivalrous Spain; and Thomar, in our own Manueline style, will, in this church and above all in this façade, be the most sublime, national, symbolic and representative of expressions of our immortal navigations, our glorious triumph over seas, our own dear motherland.’16
An Imagetic Discourse – The Power of the Elevation
Fig.5 View of the main entrance to the Manueline Church, on the south façade, designed by João de Castilho
The exterior of the Manueline Church, backing onto the polygon of the Charola, retains a Gothic character while again initiating a discourse in characteristic ornamentation, following the remaining hyperbolic Manueline originality, in an ‘exuberant and sometimes brutal decoration’.17 In 1515, João de Castilho, already in Tomar,18 examined the plot where the then sovereign, D. Manuel I, commissioned him to build an extension of the round oratory of the Order of the Temple. The slope of the terrain and
its position within the whole forced upon the architect the certainty of the exiguity of the plan. The original oratory remained to the east and the new church advanced to the west. João de Castilho was to design the new arched entrance to the south, which would breach the original sixteen-sided temple. In this façade, defined by its three full arches and complemented by the ornamentation with Manueline and Renaissance motifs, João de Castilho introduced a large portico, giving passage to the in-between space of the tripartite longitudinal plan (FIG. 5). Topped by the Order of Christ Cross on its upper frieze, the elevations of the Church seemed to further reinforce the emblematic character of the structure in the formation of Portugal. Of the three full arches, the one to the east and closest to the body of the Charola lacks the window at the top for it sits in the space between Choir and Charola, and opens a portico onto the terrace, defined by its three deepened archivolts inserted into the taller full arch which, with a staircase leading onto the lower terrace, frames the entrance portico. The upper decoration, exuberant and intricate, follows the logic of the whole façade. ‘The portico is topped by a volumetric mass sheltering a sculpture of the Virgin on a flamboyant dorsal in the central section. The façade is flanked by vaulting, on two buttresses, giving a feeling of volumetry and depth, typical of this style.’19 The site itself required that, despite the adaptation of the Church to follow its new longitudinal plan, the entrance be placed on the south side, on the side of the ambulatory. In the Main Gate’s decoration ‘one can still see the flowering of a monstrous decoration surrounding the whole base with tentacles of a giant polyp spreading
Fig.6 Corner view of the north and west façades, where the transition from the two partitioning buttresses to the edge buttresses which frame the west façade on both sides is clearly visible
out from the west façade […] One feels the lofty imagination of Castilho and the hyperbolic genius of his art, full of contrasts like Hugo. The original harmony of the façade is now only visible at the top, where the pilasters are crowned with gables, in a vibrant rhythm which precedes the wave of the triumphant dorsal.’20 The elements that compose the arch are of magnificent importance as they make clear the connection between the architectural character and the idea of an emblematic discourse. Modeled in phytomorphic decorations and finely rendered, the leaves of plants are superimposed and articulated in the interior archivolt, with elements of the Renaissance and medallions, while the first archivolt at the exterior is concluded in a fine helical column. To the sides, pinnacled columns rise, beginning and ending their ascent in succession, ultimately interrupted at the start of the arch by niches with depictions of ten symbolic figures, including some of the prophets Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Isaiah,21 one with a woman and four clerics, and saints. This mass of fantasy explored through ornamentation is, however, solely reserved to the surface of the retable, contrasting with the strength of the buttresses of the Charola upon which it rests. Suffering from the imposition of the Cloister of D. João III the south façade was partially lost at its lower section. Abutting it, the Cloister forced the removal of the two windows in the Sacristy, on the lower level of the Church. The upper section, however, retained the decorative intention of Arruda’s design for the whole. In following with the tripartite arrangement of the longitudinal plan, two buttresses adorn the side of the Church, strengthening the whole, which is
ultimately topped with the Order of Christ Cross at the pinnacles, above the platband. ‘At the top, a cornice of spheres and crosses of Christ crowns the nave like a symbolic diadem, a reminder of the Order and of the Master under whose aegis this monument was constructed.’22 While the two lower windows had been destroyed during the construction period, one of them has now been restored to its former use and can still be seen fulfilling its role in the rather clever illumination of the Sacristy room. The two central strengthening buttresses on both the north and the south façades are made smaller by the two which, flanking the west façade, define it to a much greater extent than either of the sides, making it the imagetic device of the whole Church, culminating in the Chapter Window. The intricate play of light and shadow blatant in Castilho’s Cloister of D. João III can also be seen in the definition of the elevations of the Manueline Church. In making use of imagery associated with the Portuguese Maritime Discoveries, the architects directed the elevation into a rather intriguing play of depth and shadow, as if to give way to the magnificence of the west façade, thus emphasizing it (FIG. 6).
The Chapter Window and a National Project The entire Manueline Church seems to reach an architectural peak in its west façade, attaining its climax in the Chapter Window. Like narrative, architecture becomes the means by which a thought, or in this case a story, can be structured so as to effect a change on the viewer, interacting with him. In becoming a structure of thought, more than a mere expression of content, architecture is able to
become a generator of meaning, through the way it is determined and controlled by the architect. The west façade evokes that in the manner in which, synthesizing its greatness in the exterior arrangement of the Chapter Window, it adds meaning to the Manueline Church, completing it as the magnificent ensemble that it is. ‘The decorative items, prefigured in the north façade and more explicit in the south façade, acquire here an expression which is more vigorous; an all-embracing stylization of waves, floats, cables, knots and buckles, occurring on the stone as if showing the flux of the elements and the perennial feel of an epic.’23 In the interior, benches24 lie at the bottom of the window, entering into the depth of the space by thickening the wall, giving the room unexpected light effects, further emphasized by the low vaulted ceiling, defining its spatiality (FIG. 13). While the interior of the Manueline Church is of extreme importance from the perspective of its spatial qualities, it is in its west façade that the notion of an emblematic discourse initiated by architecture is made evident. Considering the Chapter Window from its exterior expression, it can best be understood from the perspective of it being the supreme instance of a style called Manueline, in following with the stylistic approach used in the whole. ‘It is the most grandiloquent naturalism of all Manueline art, as if the nave of Tomar had not only the symbolic feel of St. Peter’s, but also the realistic feel of the ship of Vasco da Gama travelling back from the East, bringing the maritime flora of the Indian Ocean clinging to the hull of his ghost ship.’25 The Chapter Window, the Convent’s window par excellence, represents, as a cultural
image, the banner of Portugal. Framed by two powerful buttresses of geometric and rounded design, topped by a stylization of gigantic tree roots, it is ‘the most stupendous creation of architecture of all times’,26 with an incomparable arrangement of stylized flowers and corals framing the ironwork web of the window which is adorned, in its lower part, with a human figure holding and supporting the massive root stemming from here upwards to enclose the window (FIG. 7). A massive rope with gigantic knots binds the nave of the Manueline Church, symbolizing Portugal’s involvement in the Maritime Discoveries, while an anchor rope decorated with fishing floats intercepts the window, itself topped by a row of stylized fleurs-de-lis, just before the rose window concludes the verticality of the façade. These three horizontal lines decorate the façade and frame it in a manner somewhat disconnected from the flanking buttresses. While the rope at the bottom continues round the nave, tying it up as if at sea, the line with the fishing floats seems to break off at the buttress much like the row of fleurs-delis, adding to the sensation of a multitude of planes within the façade. It is as if the buttresses form the backdrop onto which a series of representative ornamentations have been added, to be topped off at last with the window as a finishing element. It is all ultimately concluded with the dipped rose window to the top of the façade, with cushioned stone, framed by a spiraling rope and crowned with the Portuguese Coat of Arms, finally concluded in the entablature with the Order of Christ Cross as if it stood in a finial. The buttresses themselves add yet another plane to the façade, as in their varying decoration they make up individual identities. To the
Fig.7 View of the Chapter Window in the west façade
Fig.8 The left buttress of the west façade depicting angels Fig.9 The left buttress of the west façade depicting the horizontal break in the façade, with the linked chain
Fig.10 The right buttress of the west façade depicting sovereigns bearing their Coat of Arms Fig.11 The right buttress of the west façade depicting the horizontal break in the façade, with the buckle representing the Order of the Garter
left, two statues of angels (FIG. 8) adorn the buttress, holding the emblems of D. Manuel and the Cross of the Order of the Golden Fleece, somewhat suggestive of the marriage of Isabel de Aviz, sister of Prince Henrique, with Duke Phillip III of Burgundy. On the right, statues of the kings of Portugal: ‘D. Dinis, warrior, dressed in armor of the 14th century, has the emblem of the cross of Christ on his heraldic shield; D. Manuel, dressed in a Roman manner, with his head covered with a cap or a winged helm, presents in his shield his enterprise, the armillary sphere; and D. João II, likewise dressing as a Roman, with a winged cap like his successor, has on his armor, much like in his shield, the new coat of arms which he took up in 1485, lifting the flanking shields, posing them in five, making his great-grandfather’s cross disappear, now with only seven castles, in D. Manuel’s style of choice, determined thereafter by him.’27 (FIG. 10) Also evident on the right buttress is the buckle of the Order of the Garter, created in 1348 by Edward III of England (FIG. 11). The insertion of such a decorative element can best be explained by the relationship maintained between both crowns, with D. Manuel I being granted the Order of the Garter in 1510 by King Henry VIII.28 Even in the horizontal lines formed on the buttresses one can differentiate them from both the center frame of the façade and from each other. The left reveals a linked chain above the top of the window (FIG. 9) while the right buttress depicts a buckled belt in the same position (FIG. 11). While sharing the same plane, each seeks its own symbolic existence. The imagery associated with the ornamentation of the façades of the Manueline Church
becomes a narrative of the historic feats of Portugal in its period of Maritime Discoveries. The inherent complexity involved in finding an expression for a national project is illustrated by the intricacy of ornamentation which, with its imagetic power, becomes the banner of the nation – a nation which, sung through this edifice, reveled in a period of growth and expansion. Ultimately, the idea of a narrative of the Portuguese mission becomes clear in the manner in which architecture, making use of clear and defined geometric volumes, is then adorned with an emblematic discourse on the feats, glories and achievements of this mission. It is in the relation between these planes of ornamental discourse and the architectural structure itself, of great severity, in line with the Renaissance, that the Manueline style can best be understood. The conflict between the use of motifs – with the ropes, algae, corals, flowers, even the sails – and the extolment of the spiritual sense of this monument allows the monument to reach a compromise that is, in its essence, characteristic of the Manueline style. And while it is undoubtedly true that the addition to the round oratory of the Temple Knights became a national emblem both for its architecture – in its imagetic of patriotism – and through its involvement in the period – due to the power of the Order – this relation between adornment and the underlying architecture is, nevertheless, often neglected. The stage-like scene created by the façades of the Manueline Church extols a period of greatness in the story of a growing nation and becomes the standard bearer for its ambitions. In doing so, it seems to overwhelm the whole of the Church, becoming both its symbol and its single reference.
In a representative discourse, the Manueline Church is able to become the peak of the Convent’s imagetic expression, chronicling the achievements, feats and glories of Portugal, ultimately through its west façade where the Chapter Window, a narrative and eloquent work, becomes the nation’s storyteller. Under the auspices of the Order of Christ Cross a celebration of the Discoveries’ exploits is raised from the deep roots of the earth. As if to suggest that the universal character of this exploratory mission undertaken by the Portuguese would be found in this façade, its most significant representation, the Knights themselves finally reveal their Grail.
A Narrative Construct At the beginning of the twentieth century a series of publications delved into the matter of the Order of Christ and its importance to the formation of the medieval and modern state of Portugal. Focused mostly on the socio-political importance of the Order, the Convent of Christ was, for the most part, largely unexplored from an architectural stance. Guided by a national quest for a new iconographic system to support the ideological program of the New State Regime, historians would, on the state’s order, focus largely on the symbolism patent in the Convent of Christ and other national architectural emblems. As a consequence, authors who chose to explore the topic dwelled, more often than not, on the historical narrative it presented of the feats of Portugal and the period of the Maritime Discoveries.29 Absorbed in this discourse they unavoidably related the Convent’s imagery to the nation’s achievements and ambitions, thus losing critical grasp of the architectural form and its fundamental significance to
both the development of the Convent as an architectural ensemble and to the creation of an imagetic discourse surrounding it. Furthermore, this focus on its imagetic relevance ultimately lacked the understanding of its underlying architectural paradigm. To understand the Convent and its associated imagetic condition as an architectural problem, one must comprehend the constant shifts in architectural paradigms associated with the transitional periods that it crossed during its existence. The Manueline Church, like the Cloister of D. João III, is as much a result of those transitional periods as it is of the architect’s political and ideological guidance. The former was but the result of a transitional period in which, with the slow entrance of the Renaissance in Portugal, the King – and through him the Crown – exerted sufficient pressure on the architect so as to achieve a style with which the King identified – thus giving rise to the Manueline style. The new iconographic system came to represent not only the Crown but the nation as one. Understanding the role architecture played in the centralization of the State30 is essential to comprehending its intellectual position at a time of transition. In a context of royal propaganda and the quest for an iconography that was representative of the Crown, the Manueline style can best be understood as an ideological resistance to the Renaissance.31 Prefigured as anticlassicist, it affirmed the importance of the emblematic discourse through intricate ornamentation in architectural representation. The compromise between the clarity and definition of simple geometric volumes and the last gasps of the Late Gothic style is what best describes the architectural value of the
Fig.12 View of the Choir from the in-between space below it and in front of the Charola. The details of the flattened upper arches which partition the space are clearly visible
Fig.13 View of the interior of the Chapter Window, in what is now the Sacristy below the Choir, formerly known as the Chapter Room. The flattening of the arch is clearly visible here, as is the deepening of the wall with the benches
Manueline. A Portuguese variation on the Late Gothic,32 coupled with Moorish art and several other foreign influences, it boldly embodied a new system of iconographic motifs, which would from then onwards be representative of the Crown. Its brilliance stems from the manner in which it was able to make use of its own newly generated iconography, through intricate detailing, to compose an ensemble that is both representative of that period – narrating it – and proponent of a possible future. In becoming a structure for ideological thought, architecture as a narrative device was able to become the theme of a much larger narrative – the need to extol the nation’s feats realized in the façades of the Manueline Church. In associating the Convent with a national imagery and with a rather ambitious project, the Church became larger than itself, a national icon and a symbol by which the Convent as a whole is now represented. Also, extolled for its symbolic value, it became the narrator not only of the story of what Portugal was, but also of what it could become. Grasping at that notion, several authors were able to approach that understanding of its symbology but chose to do so via a direct relation to its period, both visually and thematically, neglecting the critical impact of the Renaissance in Portugal, in its proposition of a virtuous classicism. It was that impact, and the consequent architectural resistance, that framed the birth of the Manueline style. A style which sought to create a new architectural language that, while satisfying the Crown and, in particular, D. Manuel I, would systematize a series of iconographic motifs, again drawing on the importance of the global assertion of the nation’s image and the growing
necessity for a discourse on it. The architectural brilliance explored in the Manueline Church’s interiors and the manner in which spaces were related to one another was of such simplicity – and yet of an intricate complexity if one understands the site conditions – that it could be further explored only in its elevations. Achieving another level of complexity, those seem to take on a multitude of planes as if to explore a series of linear and yet concurrent moments in history, to be expressed through imagetic ornamentation. Its west façade, with the renowned Chapter Window topped with the Order of Christ, became the standard of a nation, its extolled greatness. In realizing the role of architecture in the narration of close to six centuries of history, one understands how, more than a mere storyteller, it became the book in which history was being written. More than the bearer of the narrative’s contents, it became the reason for the narrative itself. Constructing an entire new narrative around this monument, the study of history gave rise to a new patriotism founded on it – even if it sometimes lacked critical consideration in its analysis. In realizing it as a massive imagetic memoir, historians have often neglected its prodigious architectural qualities and forsaken its value to the study of architectural form. While it is undoubtedly a Portuguese emblem and an extolment of a grandiose period, the Convent is far more relevant for the manner in which it achieves, through the simplicity of its architecture, a multitude of planes and meanings in its complex and intricate architectural scheme, further emphasizing the link between architecture and narrative. Clearly manifest in the Manueline Church,
architecture goes beyond its very imagery for it cannot, in its essence, be detached from form. The manner in which this architecture was able to establish a relationship between its structural form, the clarity and definition of volumes, and the depth and mass of the ornamental skin is its very definer and is its most significant aspect, creating an entire new plane of significance – a narrative by itself.
Fig.14 Detail of the present-day benches which frame the Choir space
When founded the city was originally named Thomar. It is now known as Tomar. 2 A Portuguese ship characteristic of this period of Maritime Discoveries. 3 Also known as carrack, a nau was a type of ship used by the Portuguese in the Atlantic Ocean during the fifteenth century. 4 J. Barreira, O Goticismo de João de Castilho, Lisbon 1933, p. 42. 5 Haupt, 1890-1895, citation taken from L.M. Pedrosa dos Santos Graça, Convento de Cristo, Mafra 1994, p. 42. 6 Ibidem 7 João de Castilho in particular, as well as Diogo de Torralva, among others, playing minor roles. 8 Pedrosa dos Santos Graça, op. cit. (note 5), p. 44. 9 Ibidem 10 Ibidem 11 Reynaldo dos Santos, 1952, citation taken from Pedrosa dos Santos Graça, op. cit. (note 5), p. 46. 12 Never concluded, the Chapter House was begun, by order of D. Manuel I, and overseen by João de Castilho. 13 His brother, Miguel de Arruda, along with Benedito de Ravena, was already in charge of building fortifications in Ceuta. 14 Pedrosa dos Santos Graça, op. cit. (note 5), p. 46. 15 Ibidem 16 From J. Vieira da S. Guimarães, A Missão de Portugal e o Monumento de Thomar, Lisbon 1905, p. 29, free translation by the present author 17 Chicó, 1968, citation taken from Pedrosa 1
dos Santos Graça, op. cit. (note 5), p. 48. Barreira, op. cit. (note 4). 19 Reynaldo dos Santos, 1927, citation taken from Pedrosa dos Santos Graça, op. cit. (note 5), p. 50. 20 Ibidem 21 As described by J. Vieira da S. Guimarães in O poema de pedra de João de Castilho em Thomar, Lisbon 1934, p. 76. 22 Reynaldo dos Santos, 1927, citation taken from Pedrosa dos Santos Graça, op. cit. (note 5), p. 50. 23 Pedrosa dos Santos Graça, op. cit. (note 5), p. 51. 24 Bancos de conversadeira, benches normally found in Portuguese vernacular architecture, inserted as areas of gathering within homes and public buildings. They are described by J.A. França, Tomar, Thomar Revisited, Lisbon 1994, p. 60. 25 Reynaldo dos Santos, 1927, citation taken from Pedrosa dos Santos Graça, op. cit. (note 5), p. 52. 26 Haupt, 1894-1895, citation taken from França, op. cit. (note 24), p. 63. 27 V. da S. Guimarães, O poema de pedra de João de Castilho em Thomar; citation taken from Pedrosa dos Santos Graça, op. cit. (note 5), p. 54. 28 Ibidem 29 Vieira da S. Guimarães’s presentation at a congress of the Asociación Española para el Progreso de las Ciencias in 1928, in Cadiz, entitled ‘A Igreja Manuelina dos CavaleirosNavegadores de Thomar’, in: J. Vieira da S. Guimarães, A Igreja Manuelina do Monumento de Thomar, Lisbon 1928. 18
Here meant to refer to the medieval and modern periods. 31 J. Mattoso, História de Portugal - vol. III - No Alvorecer da Modernidade, Lisbon 1997, p. 382. 32 José Mattoso inserts it into the Late Iberian Gothic, arte ad modum Yspaniae (in the way of Hispanias, referring to the peninsula and not a political condition). Several arts other than architecture, including metalworking, ivory art and basket making, were influenced. Also, in relation to the period, other more technical works were developed, in the field of ocean travel – including travel maps, world maps, globes, planispheres. Mattoso, op. cit. (note 31), p. 382. 30