Academic literature on the topic 'Bernard, Cistercian architecture Church architecture'

The Cistercian abbey church plan with a flat east end, the “Bernardine plan,” is one of the most distinctive, and most discussed, plans of medieval architecture. It has traditionally been seen as a direct result of views on monastic architecture held by Bernard of Clairvaux, our most important source for understanding medieval art and architecture. However, as Conrad Rudolph argues in Medieval Architectural Theory, the Sacred Economy, and the Public Presentation of Monastic Architecture: The Classic Cistercian Plan, this ignores the architecture of Bernard's own monastery and the architectural theory of his circle. By reading this plan in conjunction with the Cluniac apse-echelon plan and the well-known pilgrimage plan and considering it alongside the monastic sacred economy and issues of materials, craftsmanship, and public access, Rudolph shows that the “Bernardine plan” does not represent Bernard's conception at all. It is better thought of as the “classic Cistercian plan,” a compromise of lower spiritual standards aimed at broader institutional acceptance.

The Cistercians' choice of dedicating the entire order to the Virgin Mary is of vital importance to an analysis of the ideology embodied in their specific architecture. Mary, the "debodied" sacred body, the "dewomanized" woman, was the very essence of the Cistercian way of life. The aim of this paper is not to make an overview of the Cistercian order but to show how ideology —here understood as a mental dimension of a material practice —can be seen in material culture and, in this case, identified in written sources.

A computer program has been devised for analysis of proportional design in architecture and has been applied to the church of the Cistercian abbey of Ebrach, Franconia, using detailed survey measurements. Reference for this is a coefficient base of over a thousand proportions of numbers and geometric figures. The investigation has clarified the essential methodological principles for analysis of building geometry including coincidences and ambiguities of proportions, their interaction with the basic uncertainty of measurement, the interdependence between structural reference levels in the building, and the mixing of intention, collateral, and accidental relations. The program has decoded the design of part of the church and its system of measurements showing their proportions to be based on geometrical figures of polygons. The principal measurements were found to represent the sides of these polygons, and their reference, the radius of construction. Most other measurements were derived by systematic division or multiplication of the principal ones, frequently by use of the quadratura. Results also permit conclusions about precision of construction and the role of foot measurements.

In a section of a chapter on the historiography of Gothic architecture in the formerly Byzantine-ruled territories of the eastern Mediterranean entitled ‘Perspectives and Future Directions’, Tassos Papacostas summed up the relative lack of impact that this traditionally marginal field of medieval artistic production has had on wider arthistorical discourses. In asking why ‘western’ medievalists should ‘bother to look’ at Gothic buildings in the East, he argued that these buildings are of interest to them primarily from the point of view of the cultural, technical and financial processes involved in the transfer of western artistic idioms and models to lands hitherto steeped in an altogether different architectural and artistic tradition. However, it is also the case that, while the prevalent trend in the study of medieval architectural monuments in the eastern Mediterranean prioritizes the local context and how it affected the artistic process, this need not preclude the possibility that at least a few of these buildings could challenge long-held assumptions about western European developments and open new perspectives on them, if approached with the right questions in mind.

Vormsi is a small island that belonged to the Oesel-Wiek bishopric during the Middle Ages. There is a church on the island that is dedicated to St Olaf, the Norwegian king who was undoubtedly the most popular saint among the Scandinavians. A short article written by Villem Raam in the anthology Eesti Arhitektuur (Estonian Architecture, 1996) is the only one worth mentioning that has appeared to date on the architectural history of the Vormsi church.The Vormsi church is comprised of a sanctuary and nave. Only the sanctuary was completed during the Middle Ages, and the stone nave was not completed until 1632. During the restoration of the church between 1989 and 1990, fragments were found of the foundation of the wooden church that predated the stone one. It is possible that the wooden church was utilised throughout the Middle Ages as a congregation room.Currently, it is believed that the Vormsi sanctuary was built during the 15th century. This dating is based on the pyramid-shaped vault consoles – a similar shape also appears in the chapel of the gate tower in the Padise Cistercian monastery. Actually, the Padise consoles have been reused. Their original location is unknown and their completion is impossible to date even within the time frame of a century.The most significant is the eastern wall of the Vormsi sanctuary, where a spacious niche with pointed arch is located. This Cistercian composition was also used in the Haapsalu Cathedral and apparently that was the model for the Vormsi church. The Haapsalu Cathedral is a surprisingly simple single-nave church with three bays. The church has richly decorated capitals on its wall pillars, on which both Romanesque and Early Gothic motifs have been used. At least some of the capitals have been hewn by a master who previously worked on the construction of the capital hall in the Riga Cathedral. The northern section of the Haapsalu Cathedral was apparently built in the 1260s. In the vicinity of Riga there is a church with a floor plan that is an exact counterpart to the one in Haapsalu – the Holme / Martinsala Church that dates back to about the 13th century. Considering both the floor plan and the sculptured decorations, it is believable that the designers and builders of the Haapsalu Cathedral came from the Riga environs.Pärnu is also on the Riga-Haapsalu route. Actually, two towns existed there during the Middle Ages. For a short time, Old-Pärnu on the right bank of the river had been the centre of the Oesel-Wiek bishopric before Haapsalu. However, the left bank of the river was controlled by the Livonian Order. There is very little information about the Old-Pärnu Cathedral that was completed around 1251 and destroyed by the Lithuanians in 1263. However, one thing is known – it also had a single-nave with three bays. There is no information about the design of the eastern wall of the cathedral. However, the sanctuary of St Nicholas’ Church in New-Pärnu had an eastern niche similar to the one in Haapsalu. It is not impossible that the motif was borrowed from the cathedral across the river or its ruins. Attention should also be paid to the fact that the design of the northern and southern walls in the sanctuary of Pärnu’s St Nicholas’ Church are similar to the Vormsi church. Therefore, there is no doubt that these two sanctuaries are architecturally and genetically related. Apparently the Vormsi sanctuary was built immediately or soon after the completion of the Haapsalu Cathedral – not later than 1270. It is not impossible that the vaults were constructed sometime later.The vault painting in the Vormsi sanctuary is probably inspired by the “paradise vaults” in Gotland. The Vormsi painting is strikingly primitive. In Estonia, this primitive style can also be seen in the churches in Ridala and Pöide.There is a squint (hagioscope) on the southern wall of the Vormsi church sanctuary, and an unusual sacrament niche with a light shaft in the eastern wall. This does not date back to the time when the sanctuary was built, but was added later. There have been at least eight such sacrament niches in Estonia, most of which were built in the 15th century.

AbstractThe Cistercian monastery La Trappe, Mme de Maintenon’s school for girls at St Cyr, the schools at A. H. Francke’s foundations at Halle and the community established within these foundations bring to the fore the dynamic between withdrawal and engagement and the medial expressions of this dynamic. But each case demonstrates a particular employment of architecture, texts, music and images in the service of withdrawal and engagement respectively. At La Trappe the liturgical life and the furnishing of the abbey church made manifest the appropriation of desert asceticism as well as the Cistercian origin. Meanwhile the ethos of isolation and devotional self-surrender was conveyed beyond the walls by means of treatises, letters, images and the reception of visitors. At St Cyr noble girls were taught to renounce the world. This aim went hand in hand with the disciplinary and educational profile of the school and the royal founders’ ambition of to educate the wives and mothers of French noble households. Three paintings produced for the royal institution embody this aspiration in a particularly illuminating way. In the two cases related to Halle, the juxtaposition of theological texts and concepts such as

The hypothetical interpretation of the beginnings of monastic architecture in Hungary in the eleventh century as corresponding to the Italian origin of the clergy cannot be proved, and the beginning of the dominating role of a three-apsidal, axially organized basilica in Hungary cannot be traced earlier than the last quarter of the eleventh century.The dominance of the type, which has been considered in Hungarian art history since the nineteenth century as a “national” building type, can be dated as of the last quarter of the eleventh century. It is not only the problem of monastic architecture, because the same typology—in other dimensions—is also characteristic of other church buildings—cathedrals and provostry churches.However, it is apparent that both in the case of monasteries and in other genres of church buildings, the Hungarian solutions are minimal and less complicated. There is an important written source concerning the value of the patronage of church buildings. The so called Estimationes communes iuxta consuetudinem regni (i.e. common estimations) go back to Romanesque times and they were still accepted in 1516 by the printed edition of Decretum tripartitum by István Werbőczy. The classification of ecclesiastic property was governed by two criteria: the value of the building and the possession of the right of sepulture.The architectural heritage of the Cistercians appears as a rather uniform stylistic phenomenon. This uniformity was interpreted in the art historical literature as a contribution by the order supposedly having an own building organization. But the hypothesis that the workers, the conversi of the order were among the other craftsmen and builders of churches and monasteries of the order has been revealed as a legendary interpretation of art history.The most active period of the Hungarian Cistercians began with the privileges given by King Béla III to the Order and with the foundation of three abbeys in the 1180s. The very rational and well-organized building activity of the Cistercians and also the effective control coming from the top of their centralized organization has been presumably considered as unusual by contemporary observers.To prevent the excessive influence of secular people and to improve the education of the monks, the centralized organization was proposed for the Benedictines too. This reform was initiated by popes of the time about 1200, Innocent III and also Honorius III. It seems that the necessary reform as well as the solution of the problems by adopting the experience of the Cistercians influenced the spread of the regular monastery building under the evident intention of imitation. Quadratic interior courts framed by open galleries and surrounded by the most important common rooms, including the chapterhouse and refectory of the monastery, appear evidently from about 1220 in Hungarian Benedictine architecture.The Praemonstratensians, a reform order, was a nearly contemporary parallel to the Cistercians. In the twelfth century and also at the beginning of the thirteenth they were in fact in a straight contact with the Cistercians, who exercised a kind of control over the order, whose rules were not derived from the Benedictine rules but were based on the rules of St. Augustine. Mainly the centralized organization of the order could correspond to the Cistercian model. The main difference between these reform orders concerned their patronage. While the Cistercians in Hungary were mostly under royal patronage (mainly after the visit of a delegation of Cîteaux to the Court of Béla III in 1183), the Praemonstensian constructions were mainly foundations by private patrons.It seems that contrary to partly surviving hypotheses and forgeries in old art historical literature, no royal court and also no monastic order was practically involved in architecture or building praxis, including schools of architecture. Their relationship was different, corresponding to their liturgy and to the representation of their self-image.

The term “coffee palace” was primarily used in Australia to describe the temperance hotels that were built in the last decades of the 19th century, although there are references to the term also being used to a lesser extent in the United Kingdom (Denby 174). Built in response to the worldwide temperance movement, which reached its pinnacle in the 1880s in Australia, coffee palaces were hotels that did not serve alcohol. This was a unique time in Australia’s architectural development as the economic boom fuelled by the gold rush in the 1850s, and the demand for ostentatious display that gathered momentum during the following years, afforded the use of richly ornamental High Victorian architecture and resulted in very majestic structures; hence the term “palace” (Freeland 121). The often multi-storied coffee palaces were found in every capital city as well as regional areas such as Geelong and Broken Hill, and locales as remote as Maria Island on the east coast of Tasmania. Presented as upholding family values and discouraging drunkenness, the coffee palaces were most popular in seaside resorts such as Barwon Heads in Victoria, where they catered to families. Coffee palaces were also constructed on a grand scale to provide accommodation for international and interstate visitors attending the international exhibitions held in Sydney (1879) and Melbourne (1880 and 1888). While the temperance movement lasted well over 100 years, the life of coffee palaces was relatively short-lived. Nevertheless, coffee palaces were very much part of Australia’s cultural landscape. In this article, I examine the rise and demise of coffee palaces associated with the temperance movement and argue that coffee palaces established in the name of abstinence were modelled on the coffee houses that spread throughout Europe and North America in the 17th and 18th centuries during the Enlightenment—a time when the human mind could be said to have been liberated from inebriation and the dogmatic state of ignorance. The Temperance Movement At a time when newspapers are full of lurid stories about binge-drinking and the alleged ill-effects of the liberalisation of licensing laws, as well as concerns over the growing trend of marketing easy-to-drink products (such as the so-called “alcopops”) to teenagers, it is difficult to think of a period when the total suppression of the alcohol trade was seriously debated in Australia. The cause of temperance has almost completely vanished from view, yet for well over a century—from 1830 to the outbreak of the Second World War—the control or even total abolition of the liquor trade was a major political issue—one that split the country, brought thousands onto the streets in demonstrations, and influenced the outcome of elections. Between 1911 and 1925 referenda to either limit or prohibit the sale of alcohol were held in most States. While moves to bring about abolition failed, Fitzgerald notes that almost one in three Australian voters expressed their support for prohibition of alcohol in their State (145). Today, the temperance movement’s platform has largely been forgotten, killed off by the practical example of the United States, where prohibition of the legal sale of alcohol served only to hand control of the liquor traffic to organised crime. Coffee Houses and the Enlightenment Although tea has long been considered the beverage of sobriety, it was coffee that came to be regarded as the very antithesis of alcohol. When the first coffee house opened in London in the early 1650s, customers were bewildered by this strange new drink from the Middle East—hot, bitter, and black as soot. But those who tried coffee were, reports Ellis, soon won over, and coffee houses were opened across London, Oxford, and Cambridge and, in the following decades, Europe and North America. Tea, equally exotic, entered the English market slightly later than coffee (in 1664), but was more expensive and remained a rarity long after coffee had become ubiquitous in London (Ellis 123-24). The impact of the introduction of coffee into Europe during the seventeenth century was particularly noticeable since the most common beverages of the time, even at breakfast, were weak “small beer” and wine. Both were safer to drink than water, which was liable to be contaminated. Coffee, like beer, was made using boiled water and, therefore, provided a new and safe alternative to alcoholic drinks. There was also the added benefit that those who drank coffee instead of alcohol began the day alert rather than mildly inebriated (Standage 135). It was also thought that coffee had a stimulating effect upon the “nervous system,” so much so that the French called coffee une boisson intellectuelle (an intellectual beverage), because of its stimulating effect on the brain (Muskett 71). In Oxford, the British called their coffee houses “penny universities,” a penny then being the price of a cup of coffee (Standage 158). Coffee houses were, moreover, more than places that sold coffee. Unlike other institutions of the period, rank and birth had no place (Ellis 59). The coffee house became the centre of urban life, creating a distinctive social culture by treating all customers as equals. Egalitarianism, however, did not extend to women—at least not in London. Around its egalitarian (but male) tables, merchants discussed and conducted business, writers and poets held discussions, scientists demonstrated experiments, and philosophers deliberated ideas and reforms. For the price of a cup (or “dish” as it was then known) of coffee, a man could read the latest pamphlets and newsletters, chat with other patrons, strike business deals, keep up with the latest political gossip, find out what other people thought of a new book, or take part in literary or philosophical discussions. Like today’s Internet, Twitter, and Facebook, Europe’s coffee houses functioned as an information network where ideas circulated and spread from coffee house to coffee house. In this way, drinking coffee in the coffee house became a metaphor for people getting together to share ideas in a sober environment, a concept that remains today. According to Standage, this information network fuelled the Enlightenment (133), prompting an explosion of creativity. Coffee houses provided an entirely new environment for political, financial, scientific, and literary change, as people gathered, discussed, and debated issues within their walls. Entrepreneurs and scientists teamed up to form companies to exploit new inventions and discoveries in manufacturing and mining, paving the way for the Industrial Revolution (Standage 163). The stock market and insurance companies also had their birth in the coffee house. As a result, coffee was seen to be the epitome of modernity and progress and, as such, was the ideal beverage for the Age of Reason. By the 19th century, however, the era of coffee houses had passed. Most of them had evolved into exclusive men’s clubs, each geared towards a certain segment of society. Tea was now more affordable and fashionable, and teahouses, which drew clientele from both sexes, began to grow in popularity. Tea, however, had always been Australia’s most popular non-alcoholic drink. Tea (and coffee) along with other alien plants had been part of the cargo unloaded onto Australian shores with the First Fleet in 1788. Coffee, mainly from Brazil and Jamaica, remained a constant import but was taxed more heavily than tea and was, therefore, more expensive. Furthermore, tea was much easier to make than coffee. To brew tea, all that is needed is to add boiling water, coffee, in contrast, required roasting, grinding and brewing. According to Symons, until the 1930s, Australians were the largest consumers of tea in the world (19). In spite of this, and as coffee, since its introduction into Europe, was regarded as the antidote to alcohol, the temperance movement established coffee palaces. In the early 1870s in Britain, the temperance movement had revived the coffee house to provide an alternative to the gin taverns that were so attractive to the working classes of the Industrial Age (Clarke 5). Unlike the earlier coffee house, this revived incarnation provided accommodation and was open to men, women and children. “Cheap and wholesome food,” was available as well as reading rooms supplied with newspapers and periodicals, and games and smoking rooms (Clarke 20). In Australia, coffee palaces did not seek the working classes, as clientele: at least in the cities they were largely for the nouveau riche. Coffee Palaces The discovery of gold in 1851 changed the direction of the Australian economy. An investment boom followed, with an influx of foreign funds and English banks lending freely to colonial speculators. By the 1880s, the manufacturing and construction sectors of the economy boomed and land prices were highly inflated. Governments shared in the wealth and ploughed money into urban infrastructure, particularly railways. Spurred on by these positive economic conditions and the newly extended inter-colonial rail network, international exhibitions were held in both Sydney and Melbourne. To celebrate modern technology and design in an industrial age, international exhibitions were phenomena that had spread throughout Europe and much of the world from the mid-19th century. According to Davison, exhibitions were “integral to the culture of nineteenth century industrialising societies” (158). In particular, these exhibitions provided the colonies with an opportunity to demonstrate to the world their economic power and achievements in the sciences, the arts and education, as well as to promote their commerce and industry. Massive purpose-built buildings were constructed to house the exhibition halls. In Sydney, the Garden Palace was erected in the Botanic Gardens for the 1879 Exhibition (it burnt down in 1882). In Melbourne, the Royal Exhibition Building, now a World Heritage site, was built in the Carlton Gardens for the 1880 Exhibition and extended for the 1888 Centennial Exhibition. Accommodation was required for the some one million interstate and international visitors who were to pass through the gates of the Garden Palace in Sydney. To meet this need, the temperance movement, keen to provide alternative accommodation to licensed hotels, backed the establishment of Sydney’s coffee palaces. The Sydney Coffee Palace Hotel Company was formed in 1878 to operate and manage a number of coffee palaces constructed during the 1870s. These were designed to compete with hotels by “offering all the ordinary advantages of those establishments without the allurements of the drink” (Murdoch). Coffee palaces were much more than ordinary hotels—they were often multi-purpose or mixed-use buildings that included a large number of rooms for accommodation as well as ballrooms and other leisure facilities to attract people away from pubs. As the Australian Town and Country Journal reveals, their services included the supply of affordable, wholesome food, either in the form of regular meals or occasional refreshments, cooked in kitchens fitted with the latest in culinary accoutrements. These “culinary temples” also provided smoking rooms, chess and billiard rooms, and rooms where people could read books, periodicals and all the local and national papers for free (121). Similar to the coffee houses of the Enlightenment, the coffee palaces brought businessmen, artists, writers, engineers, and scientists attending the exhibitions together to eat and drink (non-alcoholic), socialise and conduct business. The Johnson’s Temperance Coffee Palace located in York Street in Sydney produced a practical guide for potential investors and businessmen titled International Exhibition Visitors Pocket Guide to Sydney. It included information on the location of government departments, educational institutions, hospitals, charitable organisations, and embassies, as well as a list of the tariffs on goods from food to opium (1–17). Women, particularly the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union (WCTU) were a formidable force in the temperance movement (intemperance was generally regarded as a male problem and, more specifically, a husband problem). Murdoch argues, however, that much of the success of the push to establish coffee palaces was due to male politicians with business interests, such as the one-time Victorian premiere James Munro. Considered a stern, moral church-going leader, Munro expanded the temperance movement into a fanatical force with extraordinary power, which is perhaps why the temperance movement had its greatest following in Victoria (Murdoch). Several prestigious hotels were constructed to provide accommodation for visitors to the international exhibitions in Melbourne. Munro was responsible for building many of the city’s coffee palaces, including the Victoria (1880) and the Federal Coffee Palace (1888) in Collins Street. After establishing the Grand Coffee Palace Company, Munro took over the Grand Hotel (now the Windsor) in 1886. Munro expanded the hotel to accommodate some of the two million visitors who were to attend the Centenary Exhibition, renamed it the Grand Coffee Palace, and ceremoniously burnt its liquor licence at the official opening (Murdoch). By 1888 there were more than 50 coffee palaces in the city of Melbourne alone and Munro held thousands of shares in coffee palaces, including those in Geelong and Broken Hill. With its opening planned to commemorate the centenary of the founding of Australia and the 1888 International Exhibition, the construction of the Federal Coffee Palace, one of the largest hotels in Australia, was perhaps the greatest monument to the temperance movement. Designed in the French Renaissance style, the façade was embellished with statues, griffins and Venus in a chariot drawn by four seahorses. The building was crowned with an iron-framed domed tower. New passenger elevators—first demonstrated at the Sydney Exhibition—allowed the building to soar to seven storeys. According to the Federal Coffee Palace Visitor’s Guide, which was presented to every visitor, there were three lifts for passengers and others for luggage. Bedrooms were located on the top five floors, while the stately ground and first floors contained majestic dining, lounge, sitting, smoking, writing, and billiard rooms. There were electric service bells, gaslights, and kitchens “fitted with the most approved inventions for aiding proficients [sic] in the culinary arts,” while the luxury brand Pears soap was used in the lavatories and bathrooms (16–17). In 1891, a spectacular financial crash brought the economic boom to an abrupt end. The British economy was in crisis and to meet the predicament, English banks withdrew their funds in Australia. There was a wholesale collapse of building companies, mortgage banks and other financial institutions during 1891 and 1892 and much of the banking system was halted during 1893 (Attard). Meanwhile, however, while the eastern States were in the economic doldrums, gold was discovered in 1892 at Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie in Western Australia and, within two years, the west of the continent was transformed. As gold poured back to the capital city of Perth, the long dormant settlement hurriedly caught up and began to emulate the rest of Australia, including the construction of ornately detailed coffee palaces (Freeman 130). By 1904, Perth had 20 coffee palaces. When the No. 2 Coffee Palace opened in Pitt Street, Sydney, in 1880, the Australian Town and Country Journal reported that coffee palaces were “not only fashionable, but appear to have acquired a permanent footing in Sydney” (121). The coffee palace era, however, was relatively short-lived. Driven more by reformist and economic zeal than by good business sense, many were in financial trouble when the 1890’s Depression hit. Leading figures in the temperance movement were also involved in land speculation and building societies and when these schemes collapsed, many, including Munro, were financially ruined. Many of the palaces closed or were forced to apply for liquor licences in order to stay afloat. Others developed another life after the temperance movement’s influence waned and the coffee palace fad faded, and many were later demolished to make way for more modern buildings. The Federal was licensed in 1923 and traded as the Federal Hotel until its demolition in 1973. The Victoria, however, did not succumb to a liquor licence until 1967. The Sydney Coffee Palace in Woolloomooloo became the Sydney Eye Hospital and, more recently, smart apartments. Some fine examples still survive as reminders of Australia’s social and cultural heritage. The Windsor in Melbourne’s Spring Street and the Broken Hill Hotel, a massive three-story iconic pub in the outback now called simply “The Palace,” are some examples. Tea remained the beverage of choice in Australia until the 1950s when the lifting of government controls on the importation of coffee and the influence of American foodways coincided with the arrival of espresso-loving immigrants. As Australians were introduced to the espresso machine, the short black, the cappuccino, and the café latte and (reminiscent of the Enlightenment), the post-war malaise was shed in favour of the energy and vigour of modernist thought and creativity, fuelled in at least a small part by caffeine and the emergent café culture (Teffer). Although the temperance movement’s attempt to provide an alternative to the ubiquitous pubs failed, coffee has now outstripped the consumption of tea and today’s café culture ensures that wherever coffee is consumed, there is the possibility of a continuation of the Enlightenment’s lively discussions, exchange of news, and dissemination of ideas and information in a sober environment. References Attard, Bernard. “The Economic History of Australia from 1788: An Introduction.” EH.net Encyclopedia. 5 Feb. (2012) ‹http://eh.net/encyclopedia/article/attard.australia›. Blainey, Anna. “The Prohibition and Total Abstinence Movement in Australia 1880–1910.” Food, Power and Community: Essays in the History of Food and Drink. Ed. Robert Dare. Adelaide: Wakefield Press, 1999. 142–52. Boyce, Francis Bertie. “Shall I Vote for No License?” An address delivered at the Convention of the Parramatta Branch of New South Wales Alliance, 3 September 1906. 3rd ed. Parramatta: New South Wales Alliance, 1907. Clarke, James Freeman. Coffee Houses and Coffee Palaces in England. Boston: George H. Ellis, 1882. “Coffee Palace, No. 2.” Australian Town and Country Journal. 17 Jul. 1880: 121. Davison, Graeme. “Festivals of Nationhood: The International Exhibitions.” Australian Cultural History. Eds. S. L. Goldberg and F. B. Smith. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. 158–77. Denby, Elaine. Grand Hotels: Reality and Illusion. London: Reaktion Books, 2002. Ellis, Markman. The Coffee House: A Cultural History. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2004. Federal Coffee Palace. The Federal Coffee Palace Visitors’ Guide to Melbourne, Its Suburbs, and Other Parts of the Colony of Victoria: Views of the Principal Public and Commercial Buildings in Melbourne, With a Bird’s Eye View of the City; and History of the Melbourne International Exhibition of 1880, etc. Melbourne: Federal Coffee House Company, 1888. Fitzgerald, Ross, and Trevor Jordan. Under the Influence: A History of Alcohol in Australia. Sydney: Harper Collins, 2009. Freeland, John. The Australian Pub. Melbourne: Sun Books, 1977. Johnson’s Temperance Coffee Palace. International Exhibition Visitors Pocket Guide to Sydney, Restaurant and Temperance Hotel. Sydney: Johnson’s Temperance Coffee Palace, 1879. Mitchell, Ann M. “Munro, James (1832–1908).” Australian Dictionary of Biography. Canberra: National Centre of Biography, Australian National U, 2006-12. 5 Feb. 2012 ‹http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/munro-james-4271/text6905›. Murdoch, Sally. “Coffee Palaces.” Encyclopaedia of Melbourne. Eds. Andrew Brown-May and Shurlee Swain. 5 Feb. 2012 ‹http://www.emelbourne.net.au/biogs/EM00371b.htm›. Muskett, Philip E. The Art of Living in Australia. New South Wales: Kangaroo Press, 1987. Standage, Tom. A History of the World in 6 Glasses. New York: Walker & Company, 2005. Sydney Coffee Palace Hotel Company Limited. Memorandum of Association of the Sydney Coffee Palace Hotel Company, Ltd. Sydney: Samuel Edward Lees, 1879. Symons, Michael. One Continuous Picnic: A Gastronomic History of Australia. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 2007. Teffer, Nicola. Coffee Customs. Exhibition Catalogue. Sydney: Customs House, 2005.

En 1535, alors que le chantier de l'église paroissiale Notre-Dame des Marais de La Ferté-Bernard est privé de maître-maçon depuis deux ans et que la fabrique vient d'obtenir la promulgation d'indulgences, un nouveau maître-maçon est élu par les habitants fertois. Mathurin Delaborde est chartrain. Maître des maçons des ville et bailliage de Chartres, Mathurin Delaborde est alors le maître-maçon de la clôture de choeur de la cathédrale. A La Ferté-Bernard, l'édifice qu'il découvre est dans l'état suivant : nef, transept et tour-clocher sont achevés depuis plus de trente ans, tandis que le choeur est en cours de construction. Les chapelles nord sont élevées, ainsi que la chapelle axiale qui vient d'être pavée et vitrée. L'ensemble, de facture sobrement flamboyante, reste toutefois non voûté. Trente-quatre ans plus tard, en 1569, alors que la fabrique fait appel à un nouveau maître-maçon pour achever les arcs-boutants, l'édifice est quasiment achevé. Il porte le monogramme MdLB en deux endroits – dans le triforium et dans la tourelle d'escalier qui mène au garde-corps des parties hautes du choeur. Avec ses trois niveaux d'élévation, les voûtes plates de ses chapelles rayonnantes et surtout l'abondant décor sculpté « à l'antique » de ses parois intérieures et extérieures, le choeur de l'église Notre- Dame des Marais de La Ferté-Bernard est une véritable « fenêtre ouverte sur la Renaissance »
In 1535, the building of Notre-Dame des Marais the parish church of La Ferté-Bernard has been deprived of maître-maçon for two years and the fabrique has just obtained an indulgence enactment, when a new maître-maçon is elected by the people of La Ferté, Mathurin Delaborde from the city of Chartres. A city maître des maçons and bailiwick in Chartres, Mathurin Delaborde becomes the maître-maçon of the chancel screen of the cathedral. On his arrival in La Ferté-Bernard, the nave, transept and church tower have been built for over thirty years whereas the choir is in the middle of its construction. The northern chapels are built, as well as the axis chapel which has just been paid for and windowed. Although soberly flamboyant crafted, the structure remains unvaulted. Thirty four years later, in 1569, the structure is almost finished when the people of La Ferté call on a new maître-maçon to finish the flying buttresses. The building bears the MdLB monogram in two different places – on the triforium and on the staircase turret of the choir. With three levels elevation, the voûtes plates of the radiating chapels and especially the great amount of « à l'antique » decoration sculpted on its inner and outer walls, the choir of the church Notre-Dame des Marais in La Ferté-Bernard is a « window opened upon the Renaissance »

Countess Urraca Lope de Haro was the daughter of the noble Lord Diego Lope de Haro, friend and advisor to King Alfonso VIII of Castilla-León and granddaughter of Lord Lope Díaz de Haro and Lady Aldonza Ruiz de Castro, aristocratic courtiers as well as popular monastic patrons. As a young and wealthy widow, Countess Urraca took monastic vows at the Cistercian nunnery of Santa María de Cañas founded by her grandparents. Within a short time of uniting herself to this monastery, she was chosen as its fourth abbess in 1225, a position she held for thirty-seven years until her death in 1262. Following the tradition of monastic patronage established by her noble family members, Countess Urraca expanded the monastery's small real estate holdings, oversaw extensive building projects to create permanent structures for the nunnery, and patronized artistic projects including statuettes of the Virgin Mary and St. Peter in addition to her own decorative stone sarcophagus during her term as abbess. This thesis examines the artistic decoration and architectural patronage of this powerful woman and the influences she incorporated into the monastic structures at Cañas as she oversaw their construction. In dating the original buildings of the monastery at Cañas to the period of Countess Urraca's leadership, the predominant architectural features and decorative details of female Cistercian foundations in northern Spain are discussed. Comparisons with additional thirteenth-century Cistercian monasteries from the same region in northern Spain are offered to demonstrate the artistic connections with the structures Countess Urraca patronized. In addition, this thesis examines Countess Urraca's obvious devotion to the Virgin Mary and St. Peter by considering the medieval monastic world in which she lived and the strong emphasis the Cistercian Order placed on such worship practices. The potent spiritual connections Countess Urraca made by commissioning images of essential, holy intercessors testifies to her devotion to them and the powerful salvatory role she herself played in the lives of the nuns for whom she was responsible. As a nun and abbess, Countess Urraca was urged to emulate Mary's mothering, nurturing qualities, and, as she did so was simultaneously empowered by the Virgin's heavenly authority as administrator of mercy. Indeed, through studying her art it is clear that she saw herself as an intercessor on behalf of the nuns for whom she was responsible. Furthermore, discussion of the imagery displayed on Countess Urraca's decorative stone sarcophagus demonstrates not only a similar message of salvation through intercessors such as Peter and Mary, but also testifies of Abbess Urraca's aristocratic lineage. Through this artistic commission, the Abbess creates another direct, personal link between herself and the Virgin by including the symbol of the rosary throughout the iconography of her tomb. Such a symbol represents her devotion to Mary as Queen of Heaven and simultaneously empowers Countess Urraca as an intercessor herself. All of these architectural and artistic commissions confirm that she was a powerful woman who wielded a great deal of influence.