A UNION OF SCHEMATISM & REALISM
In stressing the "realistic" aspects of the Plan of St.
Gall, however, I do not wish to convey the impression that
the Plan is entirely free of "schematicisms." The Plan is
schematic in many respects. It is schematic in that all of the
monastery's buildings are inscribed into a site of perfect
regularity: an oblong whose sides correspond to the proportion
3:4. It is schematic in the sense that this oblong is
divided into subordinate areas of comparable regularity
within which the houses are rigidly aligned, as in the layout
of the insulae of a Roman city—conditions, of course, that
in actual construction would have to be modified to adjust
to the topographical peculiarities of a given site. Again,
the Plan is schematic in the emphasis which it places on
modular relationship rather than straight numerical sequences.
The largeness of the standard module (2½ feet)
was bound to introduce a touch of geometric stylization in
the rendering of many of the smaller objects, whose normal
dimensions could only be expressed by using fractions
of modules. If the customary length of a Carolingian bed
was 6 feet and 4 inches (as is standard today), the drafter
of the Plan was faced with the alternatives of assigning it a
value of two modules, or 5 feet, (which would have made
the bed 16 inches too short for a fully grown man) or
assigning it a value of three modules, or 7½ feet, (which
made it 18 inches larger than necessary). In taking the
more generous alternative[396]
he not only protected the monks
from being crowded into beds where sleep would have been
a torture, but also provided the builder with a margin of
safety for the indispensable head- and footboards.
The size of the beds reveals a principle that can be observed
in many other areas of the Plan. Wherever the real
dimensions of a small object fell short of the standard
module of 2½ feet, the designer rounded such objects off
to the next higher module—never the lower one. This was
his method of making sure that a building, when actually
constructed, could in fact accommodate the appurtenances
with which it was to be equipped. It was his method, also,
of providing for a safety margin of space for the thickness
of the masonry walls, which on the Plan itself were rendered
as simple lines.
Because of the dimensional restraint that the largeness of
the standard module imposed upon the rendering of small
objects, the dimensions at this lower order of magnitude
must not be interpreted too literally. I am singling out as
another typical example the millstones (molae) in the Mill
(fig. 438). Their diameter of three standard modules (7½
feet) appears to be too large, even within the highly
advanced technology of a paradigmatic Carolingian monastery.
We cannot infer from the manner in which these
stones were drawn that they were meant to have had the
full diameter of 7½ feet. Their intended size could have
been at any reasonable point above two modules, or 5 feet,
and below three modules.[397]
There are other touches of
draftsmanship that are "schematic" rather than "realistic,"
such as the wide interstices between benches and
tables in the Monks' Refectory (fig. 211) and in the House
for Distinguished Guests (fig. 396).
Yet when allowance is made for all of these factors, full
emphasis must be placed on the observation that the Plan
is not schematic to the point that any of the practical
requirements of the buildings had to be sacrificed in order
to conform to overriding standards of modular geometricity.
In fact one of the most surprising and truly remarkable
features of the Plan is that despite its modular schematism
it is extremely "realistic"—realistic in the sense that the
dimensions of its rooms and installations are designed with
an acute awareness of the space needed to carry out their
designated function. In the copious literature on the Plan
of St. Gall this fact has been almost completely overlooked,
yet detailed analysis shows that wherever a building served
a practical function it was designed to be large enough to
guarantee that that function could be performed adequately.
Where it has been designed slightly larger than
required (in general by a carefully calculated fraction) the
space allowed is never blatantly excessive.
There is no doubt in my mind that the architect who
developed the scheme of the monastery based his work
upon a clearly formulated population plan and adhered to
this program with punctilious care as he worked out the
dimensions of the respective buildings. A count of the beds
of the monks and the various monastic officials discloses
that the monastery shown on the Plan of St. Gall was
designed to accommodate between 100 and 110 religiosi.[398]
There are two buildings on the Plan in which it had to be
possible for all of the monks (with the exception, perhaps,
of the few who were in charge of the novices) to assemble
at the same time. In both places the seating arrangement is
worked out to allow room for all of the brothers, leaving
some extra seats for visitors.
The normal sitting space required by a fully grown man
while eating at a table is an area 2½ feet wide; this is what
he would need today and what we can safely expect him to
have needed in the Middle Ages. At this ratio the benches
and tables in the Refectory (fig. 211) could seat a total of
120 monks.[399]
The Refectory, accordingly, can accommodate all of the
100 to 110 brothers in a single sitting and allow, in addition,
for an extra sixteen seats to take care of an unexpected
fluctuation, as well as the normal increase during the great
religious festivals of Christmas, Pentecost, and Easter when
the novices were permitted to join their elders. There is also
a table for visiting monks with a bench capable of seating
six; this corresponds exactly to the number of beds that
are shown in the lodging for the Visiting Monks.[400]
The same realistic awareness of spatial needs is disclosed
in the layout of the benches in the Church, on which the
monks were seated during the hours of divine services. The
long semicircular bench in the apse and the forechoir
seats forty-eight monks (fig. 99); sixteen monks can be
seated on the freestanding benches for specially trained
singers in the crossing; eighteen on the wall benches of the
southern transept arm; twenty on the wall benches of the
northern transept arm; and five on each of the two freestanding
benches of the transept arms. Total: 112.[401]
Another example of the draftsman's keen and consistent
apprehension of the spatial realities involved may be found
in the House for Distinguished Guests (fig. 396).[402]
The
number of toilet seats for servants in the House for
Distinguished Guests (again, providing for a sitting area of
2½ feet per person) is identical with the number of beds
that could be placed in the servants' sleeping quarters. The
bedrooms of the noblemen with private toilet facilities are
furnished with four beds at each end of the house. The two
stables for their horses under the northern aisle of the
house, each with a surface area of 30 × 12½ feet, can
accommodate four horses each, allowing in addition to the
required standing space sufficient extra space for taking the
horses in and out and for feeding them, yet not much more
than was needed for that purpose.
The same exacting attention to spatial needs can be
observed in the layout of the buildings that contain the
kitchens, the baths, the baking and brewing facilities,[403]
the
mills and the mortars—but most conspicuously in the layout
of the Monks' Dormitory. This building, as we have
seen,[404]
was designed to accommodate seventy-seven beds.
Its dimensions (85 × 40 feet) are calculated to perform
this task to perfection. Even the dimensions of the barrels in
the Monks' Cellar, as will be shown later on, are based on
an accurate statistical estimate of the annual storage needs
for alcoholic beverages proportionate to the community of
the size of the monastery shown on the Plan—as well as the
precise volume of cooperage required to meet these needs.[405]
