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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:04:43 -0700 |
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diff --git a/35898-h/35898-h.htm b/35898-h/35898-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a363db6 --- /dev/null +++ b/35898-h/35898-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8897 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Seven Lamps of Architecture, by John Ruskin. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + margin-top: 2.5em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-top: 2em;} + .overline {text-decoration: overline;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-top: 2em;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Seven Lamps of Architecture, by John Ruskin + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Seven Lamps of Architecture + +Author: John Ruskin + +Release Date: April 18, 2011 [EBook #35898] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEVEN LAMPS OF ARCHITECTURE *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<a name="Frontis" id="Frontis"></a> +<img src="images/i001.png" width="500" height="872" alt="PLATE IX." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE IX.—(<i>Frontispiece</i>—Vol. V.)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Tracery from the Campanile of Giotto at Florence.</span> +</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h3>Illustrated Cabinet Edition</h3> + +<h2> +The Seven Lamps of Architecture<br /> +Lectures on Architecture and Painting <br /> +The Study of +Architecture <br /> +<br /> +<small>by John Ruskin</small><br /> +</h2> + + + +<h4> +Boston <br /> +Dana Estes & Company<br /> +Publishers<br /> +</h4> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><big><b>SEVEN LAMPS OF ARCHITECTURE.</b></big></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Preface</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Introduction</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'>CHAPTER I.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Lamp of Sacrifice</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'>CHAPTER II.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Lamp of Truth</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'>CHAPTER III.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Lamp of Power</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'>CHAPTER IV.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Lamp of Beauty</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'>CHAPTER V.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Lamp of Life</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'>CHAPTER VI.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Lamp of Memory</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'>CHAPTER VII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Lamp of Obedience</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Notes</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><big><b>LECTURES ON ARCHITECTURE AND PAINTING.</b></big></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Preface</span></td><td align='right'>213</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Lecture I</span>.</td><td align='right'>217</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Lecture II</span>.</td><td align='right'>248</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> <span class="smcap">Addenda</span> to Lectures I. and II.</td><td align='right'>270</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Lecture III</span>. Turner and his Works</td><td align='right'>287</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Lecture IV</span>. Pre-Raphaelitism</td><td align='right'>311</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> <span class="smcap">Addenda</span> to Lecture IV.</td><td align='right'>334</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><big><b>THE STUDY OF ARCHITECTURE.</b></big></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">An Inquiry into the Study of Architecture</span></td><td align='right'>339</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='7'> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='7'><big><b>SEVEN LAMPS OF ARCHITECTURE</b></big></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'><small>PLATE</small></td><td align='left' colspan='3'> </td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>I.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Ornaments from Rouen, St. Lo, and Venice</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>II.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Part of the Cathedral of St. Lo, Normandy</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>III.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Traceries from Caen, Bayeux, Rouen and Beavais</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>IV.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Intersectional Mouldings</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>V.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Capital from the Lower Arcade of the Doge's Palace, Venice</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>VI.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Arch from the Facade of the Church of San Michele at Lucca</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>VII.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Pierced Ornaments from Lisieux, Bayeux, Verona, and Padua</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>VIII.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Window from the Ca' Foscari, Venice</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>IX.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Tracery from the Campanile of Giotto, at Florence</span>.</td><td align='right'><a href="#Frontis"><i>Frontispiece.</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>X.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Traceries and Mouldings from Rouen and Salisbury</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>XI.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Balcony in the Campo, St. Benedetto, Venice</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>XII.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Fragments from Abbeville, Lucca, Venice and Pisa</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>XIII.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Portions of an Arcade on the South Side of the Cathedral of Ferrara</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right' colspan='2'>XIV.</td><td align='left' colspan='3'><span class="smcap">Sculptures from the Cathedral of Rouen</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='7'> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='7'><big><b>LECTURES ON ARCHITECTURE AND PAINTING</b></big></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Plate</td><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='center'><span class="smcap">Figs.</span></td><td align='right'>1,</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">3 and 5. Illustrative Diagrams</span></td><td align='right'>219</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>2.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Window in Oakham Castle</span></td><td align='right'>221</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>4</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">and 6. Spray of ash-tree, and improvement of the same on Greek Principles</span></td><td align='right'>226</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>7.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Window in Dumblane Cathedral</span></td><td align='right'>231</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>8.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mediæval Turret</span></td><td align='right'>235</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>9</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">and</span> 10. <span class="smcap">Lombardic Towers</span></td><td align='right'>238</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>11</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">and</span> 12. <span class="smcap">Spires at Contances and Rouen</span></td><td align='right'>240</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>13</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">and</span> 14. <span class="smcap">Illustrative Diagrams</span></td><td align='right'>253</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>15.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Sculpture at Lyons</span></td><td align='right'>254</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>16.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Niche at Amiens</span></td><td align='right'>255</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>17</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">and</span> 18. Tig<span class="smcap">er's Head, and improvement of the same on Greek Principles</span></td><td align='right'>258</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>19.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Garret Window in Hotel de Bourgtheroude</span></td><td align='right'>265</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>20</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">and</span> 21. <span class="smcap">Trees, as drawn in the thirteenth century</span></td><td align='right'>294</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>22.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Rocks, as drawn by the school of Leonardo Da Vinci</span></td><td align='right'>296</td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='center'>"</td><td align='right'>23.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Boughs of Trees, after Titian</span></td><td align='right'>298</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1> +THE<br /> +SEVEN LAMPS<br /> +OF<br /> +ARCHITECTURE<br /> +</h1> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> +<h2>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p>The memoranda which form the basis of the following +Essay have been thrown together during the preparation of +one of the sections of the third volume of "Modern Painters."<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> +I once thought of giving them a more expanded form; +but their utility, such as it may be, would probably be diminished +by farther delay in their publication, more than it would +be increased by greater care in their arrangement. Obtained +in every case by personal observation, there may be among +them some details valuable even to the experienced architect; +but with respect to the opinions founded upon them I must +be prepared to bear the charge of impertinence which can +hardly but attach to the writer who assumes a dogmatical tone +in speaking of an art he has never practised. There are, however, +cases in which men feel too keenly to be silent, and perhaps +too strongly to be wrong; I have been forced into this +impertinence; and have suffered too much from the destruction +or neglect of the architecture I best loved, and from the +erection of that which I cannot love, to reason cautiously +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>respecting the modesty of my opposition to the principles which +have induced the scorn of the one, or directed the design of +the other. And I have been the less careful to modify the +confidence of my statements of principles, because in the midst +of the opposition and uncertainty of our architectural systems, +it seems to me that there is something grateful in any <i>positive</i> +opinion, though in many points wrong, as even weeds are useful +that grow on a bank of sand.</p> + +<p>Every apology is, however, due to the reader, for the hasty +and imperfect execution of the plates. Having much more +serious work in hand, and desiring merely to render them +illustrative of my meaning, I have sometimes very completely +failed even of that humble aim; and the text, being generally +written before the illustration was completed, sometimes +naïvely describes as sublime or beautiful, features which the +plate represents by a blot. I shall be grateful if the reader +will in such cases refer the expressions of praise to the Architecture, +and not to the illustration.</p> + +<p>So far, however, as their coarseness and rudeness admit, +the plates are valuable; being either copies of memoranda +made upon the spot, or (Plates IX. and XI.) enlarged and +adapted from Daguerreotypes, taken under my own superintendence. +Unfortunately, the great distance from the ground +of the window which is the subject of Plate IX. renders even +the Daguerreotype indistinct; and I cannot answer for the +accuracy of any of the mosaic details, more especially of those +which surround the window, and which I rather imagine, in +the original, to be sculptured in relief. The general proportions +are, however, studiously preserved; the spirals of the +shafts are counted, and the effect of the whole is as near that +of the thing itself, as is necessary for the purposes of illustration +for which the plate is given. For the accuracy of the +rest I can answer, even to the cracks in the stones, and the +number of them; and though the looseness of the drawing, +and the picturesque character which is necessarily given by an +endeavor to draw old buildings as they actually appear, may +perhaps diminish their credit for architectural veracity, they +will do so unjustly.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> +<p>The system of lettering adopted in the few instances in +which sections have been given, appears somewhat obscure in +the references, but it is convenient upon the whole. The line +which marks the direction of any section is noted, if the section +be symmetrical, by a single letter; and the section itself +by the same letter with a line over it, a.—ā. But if the section +be unsymmetrical, its direction is noted by two letters, +a. a. a<sub>2</sub> at its extremities; and the actual section by the same +letters with lines over them, ā. ā. ā<sub>2</sub>, at the corresponding extremities.</p> + +<p>The reader will perhaps be surprised by the small number +of buildings to which reference has been made. But it is to +be remembered that the following chapters pretend only to +be a statement of principles, illustrated each by one or two +examples, not an essay on European architecture; and those +examples I have generally taken either from the buildings +which I love best, or from the schools of architecture which, it +appeared to me, have been less carefully described than they +deserved. I could as fully, though not with the accuracy and +certainty derived from personal observation, have illustrated +the principles subsequently advanced, from the architecture +of Egypt, India, or Spain, as from that to which the reader will +find his attention chiefly directed, the Italian Romanesque +and Gothic. But my affections, as well as my experience, led +me to that line of richly varied and magnificently intellectual +schools, which reaches, like a high watershed of Christian +architecture, from the Adriatic to the Northumbrian seas, +bordered by the impure schools of Spain on the one hand, +and of Germany on the other: and as culminating points and +centres of this chain, I have considered, first, the cities of the +Val d'Arno, as representing the Italian Romanesque and pure +Italian Gothic; Venice and Verona as representing the Italian +Gothic colored by Byzantine elements; and Rouen, with the +associated Norman cities, Caen, Bayeux, and Coutances, as representing +the entire range of Northern architecture from the +Romanesque to Flamboyant.</p> + +<p>I could have wished to have given more examples from our +early English Gothic; but I have always found it impossible +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>to work in the cold interiors of our cathedrals, while the daily +services, lamps, and fumigation of those upon the Continent, +render them perfectly safe. In the course of last summer I +undertook a pilgrimage to the English Shrines, and began with +Salisbury, where the consequence of a few days' work was a +state of weakened health, which I may be permitted to name +among the causes of the slightness and imperfection of the +present Essay.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<h2>INTRODUCTORY.</h2> + + +<p>Some years ago, in conversation with an artist whose works, +perhaps, alone, in the present day, unite perfection of drawing +with resplendence of color, the writer made some inquiry respecting +the general means by which this latter quality was +most easily to be attained. The reply was as concise as it +was comprehensive—"Know what you have to do, and do it"—comprehensive, +not only as regarded the branch of art to +which it temporarily applied, but as expressing the great +principle of success in every direction of human effort; for I +believe that failure is less frequently attributable to either insufficiency +of means or impatience of labor, than to a confused +understanding of the thing actually to be done; and therefore, +while it is properly a subject of ridicule, and sometimes of +blame, that men propose to themselves a perfection of any +kind, which reason, temperately consulted, might have shown +to be impossible with the means at their command, it is a +more dangerous error to permit the consideration of means to +interfere with our conception, or, as is not impossible, even +hinder our acknowledgment of goodness and perfection in +themselves. And this is the more cautiously to be remembered; +because, while a man's sense and conscience, aided by +Revelation, are always enough, if earnestly directed, to enable +him to discover what is right, neither his sense, nor conscience, +nor feeling, are ever enough, because they are not intended, +to determine for him what is possible. He knows neither his +own strength nor that of his fellows, neither the exact dependence +to be placed on his allies nor resistance to be expected +from his opponents. These are questions respecting which +passion may warp his conclusions, and ignorance must limit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +them; but it is his own fault if either interfere with the apprehension +of duty, or the acknowledgment of right. And, as +far as I have taken cognizance of the causes of the many failures +to which the efforts of intelligent men are liable, more +especially in matters political, they seem to me more largely +to spring from this single error than from all others, that the +inquiry into the doubtful, and in some sort inexplicable, relations +of capability, chance, resistance, and inconvenience, invariably +precedes, even if it do not altogether supersede, the +determination of what is absolutely desirable and just. Nor +is it any wonder that sometimes the too cold calculation of +our powers should reconcile us too easily to our shortcomings, +and even lead us into the fatal error of supposing that our +conjectural utmost is in itself well, or, in other words, that +the necessity of offences renders them inoffensive.</p> + +<p>What is true of human polity seems to me not less so of the +distinctively political art of Architecture. I have long felt convinced +of the necessity, in order to its progress, of some determined +effort to extricate from the confused mass of partial +traditions and dogmata with which it has become encumbered +during imperfect or restricted practice, those large principles +of right which are applicable to every stage and style of it. +Uniting the technical and imaginative elements as essentially +as humanity does soul and body, it shows the same infirmly +balanced liability to the prevalence of the lower part over the +higher, to the interference of the constructive, with the purity +and simplicity of the reflective, element. This tendency, like +every other form of materialism, is increasing with the advance +of the age; and the only laws which resist it, based upon +partial precedents, and already regarded with disrespect as +decrepit, if not with defiance as tyrannical, are evidently inapplicable +to the new forms and functions of the art, which +the necessities of the day demand. How many these necessities +may become, cannot be conjectured; they rise, strange and +impatient, out of every modern shadow of change. How far +it may be possible to meet them without a sacrifice of the essential +characters of architectural art, cannot be determined +by specific calculation or observance. There is no law, no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +principle, based on past practice, which may not be overthrown +in a moment, by the arising of a new condition, or the invention +of a new material; and the most rational, if not the only, +mode of averting the danger of an utter dissolution of all that +is systematic and consistent in our practice, or of ancient authority +in our judgment, is to cease for a little while, our endeavors +to deal with the multiplying host of particular abuses, +restraints, or requirements; and endeavor to determine, as +the guides of every effort, some constant, general, and irrefragable +laws of right—laws, which based upon man's nature, +not upon his knowledge, may possess so far the unchangeableness +of the one, as that neither the increase nor imperfection +of the other may be able to assault or invalidate them.</p> + +<p>There are, perhaps, no such laws peculiar to any one art. +Their range necessarily includes the entire horizon of man's +action. But they have modified forms and operations belonging +to each of his pursuits, and the extent of their authority +cannot surely be considered as a diminution of its weight. +Those peculiar aspects of them which belong to the first of the +arts, I have endeavored to trace in the following pages; and +since, if truly stated, they must necessarily be, not only safeguards +against every form of error, but sources of every measure +of success, I do not think that I claim too much for them +in calling them the Lamps of Architecture, nor that it is indolence, +in endeavoring to ascertain the true nature and nobility +of their fire, to refuse to enter into any curious or special questioning +of the innumerable hindrances by which their light +has been too often distorted or overpowered.</p> + +<p>Had this farther examination been attempted, the work +would have become certainly more invidious, and perhaps less +useful, as liable to errors which are avoided by the present +simplicity of its plan. Simple though it be, its extent is too +great to admit of any adequate accomplishment, unless by a +devotion of time which the writer did not feel justified in withdrawing +from branches of inquiry in which the prosecution of +works already undertaken has engaged him. Both arrangements +and nomenclature are those of convenience rather than +of system; the one is arbitrary and the other illogical: nor is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +it pretended that all, or even the greater number of, the principles +necessary to the well-being of the art, are included in +the inquiry. Many, however, of considerable importance will +be found to develope themselves incidentally from those more +specially brought forward.</p> + +<p>Graver apology is necessary for an apparently graver fault. +It has been just said, that there is no branch of human work +whose constant laws have not close analogy with those which +govern every other mode of man's exertion. But, more than +this, exactly as we reduce to greater simplicity and surety any +one group of these practical laws, we shall find them passing +the mere condition of connection or analogy, and becoming +the actual expression of some ultimate nerve or fibre of the +mighty laws which govern the moral world. However mean +or inconsiderable the act, there is something in the well doing +of it, which has fellowship with the noblest forms of manly +virtue; and the truth, decision, and temperance, which we +reverently regard as honorable conditions of the spiritual +being, have a representative or derivative influence over the +works of the hand, the movements of the frame, and the action +of the intellect.</p> + +<p>And as thus every action, down even to the drawing of a +line or utterance of a syllable, is capable of a peculiar dignity +in the manner of it, which we sometimes express by saying it +is truly done (as a line or tone is true), so also it is capable of +dignity still higher in the motive of it. For there is no action +so slight, nor so mean, but it may be done to a great purpose, +and ennobled therefore; nor is any purpose so great but that +slight actions may help it, and may be so done as to help it +much, most especially that chief of all purposes, the pleasing +of God. Hence George Herbert—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +"A servant with this clause<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Makes drudgery divine;</span><br /> +Who sweeps a room, as for thy laws,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Makes that and the action fine."</span><br /> +</p></div> + +<p>Therefore, in the pressing or recommending of any act or +manner of acting, we have choice of two separate lines of ar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>gument: +one based on representation of the expediency or +inherent value of the work, which is often small, and always +disputable; the other based on proofs of its relations to the +higher orders of human virtue, and of its acceptableness, so +far as it goes, to Him who is the origin of virtue. The former +is commonly the more persuasive method, the latter assuredly +the more conclusive; only it is liable to give offence, as if +there were irreverence in adducing considerations so weighty +in treating subjects of small temporal importance. I believe, +however, that no error is more thoughtless than this. We +treat God with irreverence by banishing Him from our +thoughts, not by referring to His will on slight occasions. +His is not the finite authority or intelligence which cannot be +troubled with small things. There is nothing so small but +that we may honor God by asking His guidance of it, or insult +Him by taking it into our own hands; and what is true +of the Deity is equally true of His Revelation. We use it +most reverently when most habitually: our insolence is in +ever acting without reference to it, our true honoring of it is +in its universal application. I have been blamed for the +familiar introduction of its sacred words. I am grieved to +have given pain by so doing; but my excuse must be my wish +that those words were made the ground of every argument +and the test of every action. We have them not often enough +on our lips, nor deeply enough in our memories, nor loyally +enough in our lives. The snow, the vapor, and the stormy +wind fulfil His word. Are our acts and thoughts lighter and +wilder than these—that we should forget it?</p> + +<p>I have therefore ventured, at the risk of giving to some +passages the appearance of irreverence, to take the higher +line of argument wherever it appeared clearly traceable: and +this, I would ask the reader especially to observe, not merely +because I think it the best mode of reaching ultimate truth, +still less because I think the subject of more importance than +many others; but because every subject should surely, at a +period like the present, be taken up in this spirit, or not at +all. The aspect of the years that approach us is as solemn as +it is full of mystery; and the weight of evil against which we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +have to contend, is increasing like the letting out of water. +It is no time for the idleness of metaphysics, or the entertainment +of the arts. The blasphemies of the earth are sounding +louder, and its miseries heaped heavier every day; and if, in +the midst of the exertion which every good man is called upon +to put forth for their repression or relief, it is lawful to ask +for a thought, for a moment, for a lifting of the finger, in any +direction but that of the immediate and overwhelming need, +it is at least incumbent upon us to approach the questions in +which we would engage him, in the spirit which has become +the habit of his mind, and in the hope that neither his zeal +nor his usefulness may be checked by the withdrawal of an +hour which has shown him how even those things which +seemed mechanical, indifferent, or contemptible, depend for +their perfection upon the acknowledgment of the sacred principles +of faith, truth, and obedience, for which it has become +the occupation of his life to contend.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE SEVEN LAMPS OF ARCHITECTURE.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>THE LAMP OF SACRIFICE.</h3> + + +<p>I. Architecture is the art which so disposes and adorns the +edifices raised by man for whatsoever uses, that the sight of +them contributes to his mental health, power and pleasure.</p> + +<p>It is very necessary, in the outset of all inquiry, to distinguish +carefully between Architecture and Building.</p> + +<p>To build, literally to confirm, is by common understanding +to put together and adjust the several pieces of any edifice or +receptacle of a considerable size. Thus we have church building, +house building, ship building, and coach building. That +one edifice stands, another floats, and another is suspended +on iron springs, makes no difference in the nature of the art, +if so it may be called, of building or edification. The persons +who profess that art, are severally builders, ecclesiastical, +naval, or of whatever other name their work may justify; but +building does not become architecture merely by the stability +of what it erects; and it is no more architecture which raises +a church, or which fits it to receive and contain with comfort +a required number of persons occupied in certain religious +offices, than it is architecture which makes a carriage commodious +or a ship swift. I do not, of course, mean that the +word is not often, or even may not be legitimately, applied in +such a sense (as we speak of naval architecture); but in that +sense architecture ceases to be one of the fine arts, and it is +therefore better not to run the risk, by loose nomenclature, of +the confusion which would arise, and has often arisen, from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +extending principles which belong altogether to building, into +the sphere of architecture proper.</p> + +<p>Let us, therefore, at once confine the name to that art +which, taking up and admitting, as conditions of its working, +the necessities and common uses of the building, impresses on +its form certain characters venerable or beautiful, but otherwise +unnecessary. Thus, I suppose, no one would call the +laws architectural which determine the height of a breastwork +or the position of a bastion. But if to the stone facing of that +bastion be added an unnecessary feature, as a cable moulding, +<i>that</i> is Architecture. It would be similarly unreasonable to +call battlements or machicolations architectural features, so +long as they consist only of an advanced gallery supported on +projecting masses, with open intervals beneath for offence. +But if these projecting masses be carved beneath into rounded +courses, which are useless, and if the headings of the intervals +be arched and trefoiled, which is useless, <i>that</i> is Architecture. +It may not be always easy to draw the line so sharply and +simply, because there are few buildings which have not some +pretence or color of being architectural; neither can there be +any architecture which is not based on building, nor any +good architecture which is not based on good building; but +it is perfectly easy and very necessary to keep the ideas distinct, +and to understand fully that Architecture concerns itself +only with those characters of an edifice which are above and +beyond its common use. I say common; because a building +raised to the honor of God, or in memory of men, has surely a +use to which its architectural adornment fits it; but not a use +which limits, by any inevitable necessities, its plan or details.</p> + +<p>II. Architecture proper, then, naturally arranges itself under +five heads:—</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +Devotional; including all buildings raised for God's service or honor.<br /> +Memorial; including both monuments and tombs.<br /> +Civil; including every edifice raised by nations or societies, for purposes of common business or pleasure.<br /> +Military; including all private and public architecture of defence.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +Domestic; including every rank and kind of dwelling-place.<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>Now, of the principles which I would endeavor to develope, +while all must be, as I have said, applicable to every stage and +style of the art, some, and especially those which are exciting +rather than directing, have necessarily fuller reference to one +kind of building than another; and among these I would place +first that spirit which, having influence in all, has nevertheless +such especial reference to devotional and memorial architecture—the +spirit which offers for such work precious things simply +because they are precious; not as being necessary to the +building, but as an offering, surrendering, and sacrifice of +what is to ourselves desirable. It seems to me, not only that +this feeling is in most cases wholly wanting in those who forward +the devotional buildings of the present day; but that it +would even be regarded as an ignorant, dangerous, or perhaps +criminal principle by many among us. I have not space to +enter into dispute of all the various objections which may be +urged against it—they are many and spacious; but I may, +perhaps, ask the reader's patience while I set down those simple +reasons which cause me to believe it a good and just feeling, +and as well-pleasing to God and honorable in men, as it +is beyond all dispute necessary to the production of any great +work in the kind with which we are at present concerned.</p> + +<p>III. Now, first, to define this Lamp, or Spirit of Sacrifice, +clearly. I have said that it prompts us to the offering of +precious things merely because they are precious, not because +they are useful or necessary. It is a spirit, for instance, which +of two marbles, equally beautiful, applicable and durable, +would choose the more costly because it was so, and of two +kinds of decoration, equally effective, would choose the more +elaborate because it was so, in order that it might in the same +compass present more cost and more thought. It is therefore +most unreasoning and enthusiastic, and perhaps best negatively +defined, as the opposite of the prevalent feeling of +modern times, which desires to produce the largest results at +the least cost.</p> + +<p>Of this feeling, then, there are two distinct forms: the first, +the wish to exercise self-denial for the sake of self-discipline<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +merely, a wish acted upon in the abandonment of things +loved or desired, there being no direct call or purpose to be +answered by so doing; and the second, the desire to honor or +please some one else by the costliness of the sacrifice. The +practice is, in the first case, either private or public; but most +frequently, and perhaps most properly, private; while, in the +latter case, the act is commonly, and with greatest advantage, +public. Now, it cannot but at first appear futile to assert the +expediency of self-denial for its own sake, when, for so many +sakes, it is every day necessary to a far greater degree than +any of us practise it. But I believe it is just because we do +not enough acknowledge or contemplate it as a good in itself, +that we are apt to fail in its duties when they become imperative, +and to calculate, with some partiality, whether the good +proposed to others measures or warrants the amount of grievance +to ourselves, instead of accepting with gladness the opportunity +of sacrifice as a personal advantage. Be this as it +may, it is not necessary to insist upon the matter here; since +there are always higher and more useful channels of self-sacrifice, +for those who choose to practise it, than any connected +with the arts.</p> + +<p>While in its second branch, that which is especially concerned +with the arts, the justice of the feeling is still more +doubtful; it depends on our answer to the broad question, +Can the Deity be indeed honored by the presentation to Him +of any material objects of value, or by any direction of zeal +or wisdom which is not immediately beneficial to men?</p> + +<p>For, observe, it is not now the question whether the fairness +and majesty of a building may or may not answer any +moral purpose; it is not the <i>result</i> of labor in any sort of +which we are speaking, but the bare and mere costliness—the +substance and labor and time themselves: are these, we ask, +independently of their result, acceptable offerings to God, and +considered by Him as doing Him honor? So long as we refer +this question to the decision of feeling, or of conscience, +or of reason merely, it will be contradictorily or imperfectly +answered; it admits of entire answer only when we have met +another and a far different question, whether the Bible be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +indeed one book or two, and whether the character of God +revealed in the Old Testament be other than His character +revealed in the New.</p> + +<p>IV. Now, it is a most secure truth, that, although the particular +ordinances divinely appointed for special purposes at +any given period of man's history, may be by the same divine +authority abrogated at another, it is impossible that any character +of God, appealed to or described in any ordinance past +or present, can ever be changed, or understood as changed, +by the abrogation of that ordinance. God is one and the +same, and is pleased or displeased by the same things for ever, +although one part of His pleasure may be expressed at one +time rather than another, and although the mode in which +His pleasure is to be consulted may be by Him graciously +modified to the circumstances of men. Thus, for instance, it +was necessary that, in order to the understanding by man of +the scheme of Redemption, that scheme should be foreshown +from the beginning by the type of bloody sacrifice. But God +had no more pleasure in such sacrifice in the time of Moses +than He has now; He never accepted as a propitiation for sin +any sacrifice but the single one in prospective; and that we +may not entertain any shadow of doubt on this subject, the +worthlessness of all other sacrifice than this is proclaimed at +the very time when typical sacrifice was most imperatively demanded. +God was a spirit, and could be worshipped only in +spirit and in truth, as singly and exclusively when every day +brought its claim of typical and material service or offering, +as now when He asks for none but that of the heart.</p> + +<p>So, therefore, it is a most safe and sure principle that, if in +the manner of performing any rite at any time, circumstances +can be traced which we are either told, or may legitimately +conclude, <i>pleased</i> God at that time, those same circumstances +will please Him at all times, in the performance of all rites or +offices to which they may be attached in like manner; unless +it has been afterwards revealed that, for some special purpose, +it is now His will that such circumstances should be withdrawn. +And this argument will have all the more force if it +can be shown that such conditions were not essential to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +completeness of the rite in its human uses and bearings, and +only were added to it as being in <i>themselves</i> pleasing to God.</p> + +<p>V. Now, was it necessary to the completeness, as a type, of +the Levitical sacrifice, or to its utility as an explanation of +divine purposes, that it should cost anything to the person in +whose behalf it was offered? On the contrary, the sacrifice +which it foreshowed was to be God's free gift; and the cost +of, or difficulty of obtaining, the sacrificial type, could only +render that type in a measure obscure, and less expressive of +the offering which God would in the end provide for all men. +Yet this costliness was <i>generally</i> a condition of the acceptableness +of the sacrifice. "Neither will I offer unto the Lord +my God of that which doth cost me nothing."<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> That costliness, +therefore, must be an acceptable condition in all human +offerings at all times; for if it was pleasing to God once, it +must please Him always, unless directly forbidden by Him +afterwards, which it has never been.</p> + +<p>Again, was it necessary to the typical perfection of the +Levitical offering, that it should be the best of the flock? +Doubtless the spotlessness of the sacrifice renders it more expressive +to the Christian mind; but was it because so expressive +that it was actually, and in so many words, demanded by +God? Not at all. It was demanded by Him expressly on the +same grounds on which an earthly governor would demand it, +as a testimony of respect. "Offer it now unto thy governor."<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> +And the less valuable offering was rejected, not because it did +not image Christ, nor fulfil the purposes of sacrifice, but because +it indicated a feeling that would grudge the best of its +possessions to Him who gave them; and because it was a bold +dishonoring of God in the sight of man. Whence it may be +infallibly concluded, that in whatever offerings we may now +see reason to present unto God (I say not what these may +be), a condition of their acceptableness will be now, as it was +then, that they should be the best of their kind.</p> + +<p>VI. But farther, was it necessary to the carrying out of the +Mosaical system, that there should be either art or splendor +in the form or services of the tabernacle or temple? Was it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>necessary to the perfection of any one of their typical offices, +that there should be that hanging of blue, and purple, and +scarlet? those taches of brass and sockets of silver? that +working in cedar and overlaying with gold? One thing at +least is evident: there was a deep and awful danger in it; a +danger that the God whom they so worshipped, might be associated +in the minds of the serfs of Egypt with the gods to +whom they had seen similar gifts offered and similar honors +paid. The probability, in our times, of fellowship with the +feelings of the idolatrous Romanist is absolutely as nothing +compared with the danger to the Israelite of a sympathy with +the idolatrous Egyptian;<a href="#NOTE_I" class="fnanchor">1</a> no speculative, no unproved danger; +but proved fatally by their fall during a month's abandonment +to their own will; a fall into the most servile idolatry; +yet marked by such offerings to their idol as their +leader was, in the close sequel, instructed to bid them offer to +God. This danger was imminent, perpetual, and of the most +awful kind: it was the one against which God made provision, +not only by commandments, by threatenings, by promises, +the most urgent, repeated, and impressive; but by temporary +ordinances of a severity so terrible as almost to dim for a +time, in the eyes of His people, His attribute of mercy. The +principal object of every instituted law of that Theocracy, of +every judgment sent forth in its vindication, was to mark to +the people His hatred of idolatry; a hatred written under +their advancing steps, in the blood of the Canaanite, and +more sternly still in the darkness of their own desolation, +when the children and the sucklings swooned in the streets +of Jerusalem, and the lion tracked his prey in the dust of +Samaria.<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> Yet against this mortal danger provision was not +made in one way (to man's thoughts the simplest, the most +natural, the most effective), by withdrawing from the worship +of the Divine Being whatever could delight the sense, or +shape the imagination, or limit the idea of Deity to place. +This one way God refused, demanding for Himself such +honors, and accepting for Himself such local dwelling, as had +been paid and dedicated to idol gods by heathen worshippers; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>and for what reason? Was the glory of the tabernacle necessary +to set forth or image His divine glory to the minds of +His people? What! purple or scarlet necessary to the people +who had seen the great river of Egypt run scarlet to the +sea, under His condemnation? What! golden lamp and +cherub necessary for those who had seen the fires of heaven +falling like a mantle on Mount Sinai, and its golden courts +opened to receive their mortal lawgiver? What! silver clasp +and fillet necessary when they had seen the silver waves of the +Red Sea clasp in their arched hollows the corpses of the +horse and his rider? Nay—not so. There was but one reason, +and that an eternal one; that as the covenant that He +made with men was accompanied with some external sign of +its continuance, and of His remembrance of it, so the acceptance +of that covenant might be marked and signified by use, +in some external sign of their love and obedience, and surrender +of themselves and theirs to His will; and that their gratitude +to Him, and continual remembrance of Him, might +have at once their expression and their enduring testimony in +the presentation to Him, not only of the firstlings of the herd +and fold, not only of the fruits of the earth and the tithe of +time, but of all treasures of wisdom and beauty; of the +thought that invents, and the hand that labors; of wealth of +wood, and weight of stone; of the strength of iron, and of the +light of gold.</p> + +<p>And let us not now lose sight of this broad and unabrogated +principle—I might say, incapable of being abrogated, so long +as men shall receive earthly gifts from God. Of all that they +have His tithe must be rendered to Him, or in so far and in +so much He is forgotten: of the skill and of the treasure, of +the strength and of the mind, of the time and of the toil, offering +must be made reverently; and if there be any difference +between the Levitical and the Christian offering, it is +that the latter may be just so much the wider in its range as +it is less typical in its meaning, as it is thankful instead of +sacrificial. There can be no excuse accepted because the +Deity does not now visibly dwell in His temple; if He is invisible +it is only through our failing faith: nor any excuse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +because other calls are more immediate or more sacred; this +ought to be done, and not the other left undone. Yet this +objection, as frequent as feeble, must be more specifically answered.</p> + +<p>VII. It has been said—it ought always to be said, for it is +true—that a better and more honorable offering is made to +our Master in ministry to the poor, in extending the knowledge +of His name, in the practice of the virtues by which that name +is hallowed, than in material presents to His temple. Assuredly +it is so: woe to all who think that any other kind or manner +of offering may in any wise take the place of these! Do +the people need place to pray, and calls to hear His word? +Then it is no time for smoothing pillars or carving pulpits; +let us have enough first of walls and roofs. Do the people +need teaching from house to house, and bread from day to +day? Then they are deacons and ministers we want, not +architects. I insist on this, I plead for this; but let us examine +ourselves, and see if this be indeed the reason for our +backwardness in the lesser work. The question is not between +God's house and His poor: it is not between God's house and +His Gospel. It is between God's house and ours. Have we +no tesselated colors on our floors? no frescoed fancies on our +roofs? no niched statuary in our corridors? no gilded furniture +in our chambers? no costly stones in our cabinets? Has +even the tithe of these been offered? They are, or they ought +to be, the signs that enough has been devoted to the great +purposes of human stewardship, and that there remains to us +what we can spend in luxury; but there is a greater and +prouder luxury than this selfish one—that of bringing a portion +of such things as these into sacred service, and presenting +them for a memorial<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> that our pleasure as well as our toil +has been hallowed by the remembrance of Him who gave both +the strength and the reward. And until this has been done, +I do not see how such possessions can be retained in happiness. +I do not understand the feeling which would arch our own +gates and pave our own thresholds, and leave the church with +its narrow door and foot-worn sill; the feeling which enriches +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>our own chambers with all manner of costliness, and endures +the bare wall and mean compass of the temple. There is seldom +even so severe a choice to be made, seldom so much self-denial +to be exercised. There are isolated cases, in which +men's happiness and mental activity depend upon a certain +degree of luxury in their houses; but then this is true luxury, +felt and tasted, and profited by. In the plurality of instances +nothing of the kind is attempted, nor can be enjoyed; men's +average resources cannot reach it; and that which they <i>can</i> +reach, gives them no pleasure, and might be spared. It will +be seen, in the course of the following chapters, that I am no +advocate for meanness of private habitation. I would fain introduce +into it all magnificence, care, and beauty, where they +are possible; but I would not have that useless expense in unnoticed +fineries or formalities; cornicings of ceilings and graining +of doors, and fringing of curtains, and thousands such; +things which have become foolishly and apathetically habitual—things +on whose common appliance hang whole trades, to +which there never yet belonged the blessing of giving one ray +of real pleasure, or becoming of the remotest or most contemptible +use—things which cause half the expense of life, and +destroy more than half its comfort, manliness, respectability, +freshness, and facility. I speak from experience: I know +what it is to live in a cottage with a deal floor and roof, and +a hearth of mica slate; and I know it to be in many respects +healthier and happier than living between a Turkey carpet +and gilded ceiling, beside a steel grate and polished fender. +I do not say that such things have not their place and propriety; +but I say this, emphatically, that the tenth part of +the expense which is sacrificed in domestic vanities, if not +absolutely and meaninglessly lost in domestic discomforts, and +incumbrances, would, if collectively offered and wisely employed, +build a marble church for every town in England; +such a church as it should be a joy and a blessing even to +pass near in our daily ways and walks, and as it would bring +the light into the eyes to see from afar, lifting its fair height +above the purple crowd of humble roofs.</p> + +<p>VIII. I have said for every town: I do not want a marble<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +church for every village; nay, I do not want marble churches +at all for their own sake, but for the sake of the spirit that +would build them. The church has no need of any visible +splendors; her power is independent of them, her purity is in +some degree opposed to them. The simplicity of a pastoral +sanctuary is lovelier than the majesty of an urban temple; +and it may be more than questioned whether, to the people, +such majesty has ever been the source of any increase of effective +piety; but to the builders it has been, and must ever be. +It is not the church we want, but the sacrifice; not the emotion +of admiration, but the act of adoration: not the gift, but +the giving.<a href="#NOTE_II" class="fnanchor">2</a> And see how much more charity the full understanding +of this might admit, among classes of men of +naturally opposite feelings; and how much more nobleness in +the work. There is no need to offend by importunate, self-proclaiming +splendor. Your gift may be given in an unpresuming +way. Cut one or two shafts out of a porphyry whose +preciousness those only would know who would desire it to be +so used; add another month's labor to the undercutting of a +few capitals, whose delicacy will not be seen nor loved by one +beholder of ten thousand; see that the simplest masonry of +the edifice be perfect and substantial; and to those who regard +such things, their witness will be clear and impressive; +to those who regard them not, all will at least be inoffensive. +But do not think the feeling itself a folly, or the act itself useless. +Of what use was that dearly-bought water of the well +of Bethlehem with which the King of Israel slaked the dust +of Adullam?—yet was not thus better than if he had drunk +it? Of what use was that passionate act of Christian sacrifice, +against which, first uttered by the false tongue, the very objection +we would now conquer took a sullen tone for ever?<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a> +So also let us not ask of what use our offering is to the church: +it is at least better for <i>us</i> than if it had been retained for ourselves. +It may be better for others also: there is, at any rate, +a chance of this; though we must always fearfully and widely +shun the thought that the magnificence of the temple can +materially add to the efficiency of the worship or to the power +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>of the ministry. Whatever we do, or whatever we offer, let it +not interfere with the simplicity of the one, or abate, as if replacing, +the zeal of the other. That is the abuse and fallacy +of Romanism, by which the true spirit of Christian offering is +directly contradicted. The treatment of the Papists' temple is +eminently exhibitory; it is surface work throughout; and the +danger and evil of their church decoration lie, not in its reality—not +in the true wealth and art of it, of which the lower people +are never cognizant—but in its tinsel and glitter, in the +gilding of the shrine and painting of the image, in embroidery +of dingy robes and crowding of imitated gems; all this being +frequently thrust forward to the concealment of what is really +good or great in their buildings.<a href="#NOTE_III" class="fnanchor">3</a> Of an offering of gratitude +which is neither to be exhibited nor rewarded, which is neither +to win praise nor purchase salvation, the Romanist (as such) +has no conception.</p> + +<p>IX. While, however, I would especially deprecate the imputation +of any other acceptableness or usefulness to the gift +itself than that which it receives from the spirit of its presentation, +it may be well to observe, that there is a lower advantage +which never fails to accompany a dutiful observance of +any right abstract principle. While the first fruits of his possessions +were required from the Israelite as a testimony of +fidelity, the payment of those first fruits was nevertheless rewarded, +and that connectedly and specifically, by the increase +of those possessions. Wealth, and length of days, and peace, +were the promised and experienced rewards of his offering, +though they were not to be the objects of it. The tithe paid +into the storehouse was the expressed condition of the blessing +which there should not be room enough to receive. And +it will be thus always: God never forgets any work or labor +of love; and whatever it may be of which the first and best +proportions or powers have been presented to Him, he will +multiply and increase sevenfold. Therefore, though it may +not be necessarily the interest of religion to admit the service +of the arts, the arts will never flourish until they have been +primarily devoted to that service—devoted, both by architect +and employer; by the one in scrupulous, earnest, affectionate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +design; by the other in expenditure at least more frank, at +least less calculating, than that which he would admit in the +indulgence of his own private feelings. Let this principle be +but once fairly acknowledged among us; and however it may +be chilled and repressed in practice, however feeble may be +its real influence, however the sacredness of it may be diminished +by counter-workings of vanity and self-interest, yet its +mere acknowledgment would bring a reward; and with our +present accumulation of means and of intellect, there would +be such an impulse and vitality given to art as it has not felt +since the thirteenth century. And I do not assert this as +other than a national consequence: I should, indeed, expect +a larger measure of every great and spiritual faculty to be +always given where those faculties had been wisely and religiously +employed; but the impulse to which I refer, would +be, humanly speaking, certain; and would naturally result +from obedience to the two great conditions enforced by the +Spirit of Sacrifice, first, that we should in everything do our +best; and, secondly, that we should consider increase of apparent +labor as an increase of beauty in the building. A few +practical deductions from these two conditions, and I have +done.</p> + +<p>X. For the first: it is alone enough to secure success, and +it is for want of observing it that we continually fail. We +are none of us so good architects as to be able to work habitually +beneath our strength; and yet there is not a building +that I know of, lately raised, wherein it is not sufficiently +evident that neither architect nor builder has done his best. +It is the especial characteristic of modern work. All old +work nearly has been hard work. It may be the hard work +of children, of barbarians, of rustics; but it is always their +utmost. Ours has as constantly the look of money's worth, +of a stopping short wherever and whenever we can, of a lazy +compliance with low conditions; never of a fair putting forth +of our strength. Let us have done with this kind of work at +once: cast off every temptation to it: do not let us degrade +ourselves voluntarily, and then mutter and mourn over our +short comings; let us confess our poverty or our parsimony<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>, +but not belie our human intellect. It is not even a question +of how <i>much</i> we are to do, but of how it is to be done; it is +not a question of doing more, but of doing better. Do not +let us boss our roofs with wretched, half-worked, blunt-edged +rosettes; do not let us flank our gates with rigid imitations +of mediæval statuary. Such things are mere insults to +common sense, and only unfit us for feeling the nobility of +their prototypes. We have so much, suppose, to be spent in +decoration; let us go to the Flaxman of his time, whoever +he may be, and bid him carve for us a single statue, frieze or +capital, or as many as we can afford, compelling upon him the +one condition, that they shall be the best he can do; place +them where they will be of the most value, and be content. +Our other capitals may be mere blocks, and our other niches +empty. No matter: better our work unfinished than all bad. +It may be that we do not desire ornament of so high an +order; choose, then, a less developed style, also, if you will, +rougher material; the law which we are enforcing requires +only that what we pretend to do and to give, shall both be +the best of their kind; choose, therefore, the Norman hatchet +work, instead of the Flaxman frieze and statue, but let it be +the best hatchet work; and if you cannot afford marble, use +Caen stone, but from the best bed; and if not stone, brick, +but the best brick; preferring always what is good of a lower +order of work or material, to what is bad of a higher; for this +is not only the way to improve every kind of work, and to put +every kind of material to better use; but it is more honest +and unpretending, and is in harmony with other just, upright, +and manly principles, whose range we shall have presently to +take into consideration.</p> + +<p>XI. The other condition which we had to notice, was the +value of the appearance of labor upon architecture. I have +spoken of this before;<a name="FNanchor_G_7" id="FNanchor_G_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_G_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a> and it is, indeed, one of the most +frequent sources of pleasure which belong to the art, always, +however, within certain somewhat remarkable limits. For it +does not at first appear easily to be explained why labor, as +represented by materials of value, should, without sense of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>wrong or error, bear being wasted; while the waste of actual +workmanship is always painful, so soon as it is apparent. +But so it is, that, while precious materials may, with a certain +profusion and negligence, be employed for the magnificence +of what is seldom seen, the work of man cannot be carelessly +and idly bestowed, without an immediate sense of wrong; as +if the strength of the living creature were never intended by +its Maker to be sacrificed in vain, though it is well for us +sometimes to part with what we esteem precious of substance, +as showing that in such a service it becomes but dross +and dust. And in the nice balance between the straitening +of effort or enthusiasm on the one hand, and vainly casting it +away upon the other, there are more questions than can be +met by any but very just and watchful feeling. In general it +is less the mere loss of labor that offends us, than the lack +of judgment implied by such loss; so that if men confessedly +work for work's sake, and it does not appear that they are ignorant +where or how to make their labor tell, we shall not be +grossly offended. On the contrary, we shall be pleased if the +work be lost in carrying out a principle, or in avoiding a deception. +It, indeed, is a law properly belonging to another +part of our subject, but it may be allowably stated here, that, +whenever, by the construction of a building, some parts of it +are hidden from the eye which are the continuation of others +bearing some consistent ornament, it is not well that the ornament +should cease in the parts concealed; credit is given +for it, and it should not be deceptively withdrawn: as, for instance, +in the sculpture of the backs of the statues of a temple +pediment; never, perhaps, to be seen, but yet not lawfully to +be left unfinished. And so in the working out of ornaments +in dark concealed places, in which it is best to err on the side +of completion; and in the carrying round of string courses, +and other such continuous work; not but that they may stop +sometimes, on the point of going into some palpably impenetrable +recess, but then let them stop boldly and markedly, on +some distinct terminal ornament, and never be supposed to +exist where they do not. The arches of the towers which +flank the transepts of Rouen Cathedral have rosette orna<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>ments +on their spandrils, on the three visible sides; none on +the side towards the roof. The right of this is rather a nice +point for question.</p> + +<p>XII. Visibility, however, we must remember, depends, not +only on situation, but on distance; and there is no way in +which work is more painfully and unwisely lost than in its +over delicacy on parts distant from the eye. Here, again, the +principle of honesty must govern our treatment: we must +not work any kind of ornament which is, perhaps, to cover +the whole building (or at least to occur on all parts of it) delicately +where it is near the eye, and rudely where it is removed +from it. That is trickery and dishonesty. Consider, first, +what kinds of ornaments will tell in the distance and what +near, and so distribute them, keeping such as by their nature +are delicate, down near the eye, and throwing the bold and +rough kinds of work to the top; and if there be any kind +which is to be both near and far off, take care that it be as +boldly and rudely wrought where it is well seen as where it +is distant, so that the spectator may know exactly what it is, +and what it is worth. Thus chequered patterns, and in general +such ornaments as common workmen can execute, may +extend over the whole building; but bas-reliefs, and fine +niches and capitals, should be kept down, and the common +sense of this will always give a building dignity, even though +there be some abruptness or awkwardness, in the resulting +arrangements. Thus at San Zeno at Verona, the bas-reliefs, +full of incident and interest are confined to a parallelogram +of the front, reaching to the height of the capitals of the columns +of the porch. Above these, we find a simple though +most lovely, little arcade; and above that, only blank wall, +with square face shafts. The whole effect is tenfold grander +and better than if the entire façade had been covered with bad +work, and may serve for an example of the way to place little +where we cannot afford much. So, again, the transept gates +of Rouen<a name="FNanchor_H_8" id="FNanchor_H_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_H_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a> are covered with delicate bas-reliefs (of which I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>shall speak at greater length presently) up to about once +and a half a man's height; and above that come the usual +and more visible statues and niches. So in the campanile at +Florence, the circuit of bas-reliefs is on its lowest story; +above that come its statues; and above them all its pattern +mosaic, and twisted columns, exquisitely finished, like all +Italian work of the time, but still, in the eye of the Florentine, +rough and commonplace by comparison with the bas-reliefs. +So generally the most delicate niche work and best +mouldings of the French Gothic are in gates and low windows +well within sight; although, it being the very spirit of +that style to trust to its exuberance for effect, there is occasionally +a burst upwards and blossoming unrestrainably to +the sky, as in the pediment of the west front of Rouen, and +in the recess of the rose window behind it, where there are +some most elaborate flower-mouldings, all but invisible from +below, and only adding a general enrichment to the deep +shadows that relieve the shafts of the advanced pediment. It +is observable, however, that this very work is bad flamboyant, +and has corrupt renaissance characters in its detail as well as +use; while in the earlier and grander north and south gates, +there is a very noble proportioning of the work to the distance, +the niches and statues which crown the northern one, +at a height of about one hundred feet from the ground, being +alike colossal and simple; visibly so from below, so as to induce +no deception, and yet honestly and well-finished above, +and all that they are expected to be; the features very beautiful, +full of expression, and as delicately wrought as any +work of the period.</p> + +<p>XIII. It is to be remembered, however, that while the ornaments +in every fine ancient building, without exception so far +as I am aware, are most delicate at the base, they are often +in greater effective <i>quantity</i> on the upper parts. In high +towers this is perfectly natural and right, the solidity of the +foundation being as necessary as the division and penetration +of the superstructure; hence the lighter work and richly +pierced crowns of late Gothic towers. The campanile of +Giotto at Florence, already alluded to, is an exquisite instance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +of the union of the two principles, delicate bas-reliefs adorning +its massy foundation, while the open tracery of the upper +windows attracts the eye by its slender intricacy, and a rich +cornice crowns the whole. In such truly fine cases of this +disposition the upper work is effective by its quantity and intricacy +only, as the lower portions by delicacy; so also in the +Tour de Beurre at Rouen, where, however, the detail is massy +throughout, subdividing into rich meshes as it ascends. In +the bodies of buildings the principle is less safe, but its discussion +is not connected with our present subject.</p> + +<p>XIV. Finally, work may be wasted by being too good for +its material, or too fine to bear exposure; and this, generally a +characteristic of late, especially of renaissance, work, is perhaps +the worst fault of all. I do not know anything more +painful or pitiful than the kind of ivory carving with which +the Certosa of Pavia, and part of the Colleone sepulchral +chapel at Bergamo, and other such buildings, are incrusted, +of which it is not possible so much as to think without exhaustion; +and a heavy sense of the misery it would be, to be +forced to look at it at all. And this is not from the quantity +of it, nor because it is bad work—much of it is inventive and +able; but because it looks as if it were only fit to be put in +inlaid cabinets and velveted caskets, and as if it could not +bear one drifting shower or gnawing frost. We are afraid for +it, anxious about it, and tormented by it; and we feel that a +massy shaft and a bold shadow would be worth it all. Nevertheless, +even in cases like these, much depends on the accomplishment +of the great ends of decoration. If the ornament +does its duty—if it <i>is</i> ornament, and its points of shade and +light tell in the general effect, we shall not be offended by +finding that the sculptor in his fulness of fancy has chosen to +give much more than these mere points of light, and has +composed them of groups of figures. But if the ornament +does not answer its purpose, if it have no distant, no truly +decorative power; if generally seen it be a mere incrustation +and meaningless roughness, we shall only be chagrined by +finding when we look close, that the incrustation has cost +years of labor and has millions of figures and histories in it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +and would be the better of being seen through a Stanhope +lens. Hence the greatness of the northern Gothic as contrasted +with the latest Italian. It reaches nearly the same +extreme of detail; but it never loses sight of its architectural +purpose, never fails in its decorative power; not a leaflet in it +but speaks, and speaks far off, too; and so long as this be +the case, there is no limit to the luxuriance in which such +work may legitimately and nobly be bestowed.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 604px;"> +<img src="images/i039.png" width="604" height="1023" alt="PLATE I." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE I.—(Page 33—Vol. V)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Ornaments from Rouen, St. Lo, and Venice.</span></span> +</div> + + +<p>XV. No limit: it is one of the affectations of architects to +speak of overcharged ornament. Ornament cannot be overcharged +if it be good, and is always overcharged when it is +bad. I have given, on the opposite page (fig. 1), one of the +smallest niches of the central gate of Rouen. That gate I +suppose to be the most exquisite piece of pure flamboyant +work existing; for though I have spoken of the upper portions, +especially the receding window, as degenerate, the gate +itself is of a purer period, and has hardly any renaissance +taint. There are four strings of these niches (each with two +figures beneath it) round the porch, from the ground to the +top of the arch, with three intermediate rows of larger niches, +far more elaborate; besides the six principal canopies of each +outer pier. The total number of the subordinate niches alone, +each worked like that in the plate, and each with a different +pattern of traceries in each compartment, is one hundred and +seventy-six.<a href="#NOTE_IV" class="fnanchor">4</a> Yet in all this ornament there is not one cusp, +one finial that is useless—not a stroke of the chisel is in vain; +the grace and luxuriance of it all are visible—sensible rather—even +to the uninquiring eye; and all its minuteness does +not diminish the majesty, while it increases the mystery, of +the noble and unbroken vault. It is not less the boast of +some styles that they can bear ornament, than of others that +they can do without it; but we do not often enough reflect +that those very styles, of so haughty simplicity, owe part of +their pleasurableness to contrast, and would be wearisome if +universal. They are but the rests and monotones of the art; +it is to its far happier, far higher, exaltation that we owe +those fair fronts of variegated mosaic, charged with wild fancies +and dark hosts of imagery, thicker and quainter than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +ever filled the depth of midsummer dream; those vaulted +gates, trellised with close leaves; those window-labyrinths of +twisted tracery and starry light; those misty masses of multitudinous +pinnacle and diademed tower; the only witnesses, +perhaps that remain to us of the faith and fear of nations. +All else for which the builders sacrificed, has passed away—all +their living interests, and aims, and achievements. We +know not for what they labored, and we see no evidence of +their reward. Victory, wealth, authority, happiness—all have +departed, though bought by many a bitter sacrifice. But of +them, and their life, and their toil upon the earth, one reward, +one evidence, is left to us in those gray heaps of deep-wrought +stone. They have taken with them to the grave +their powers, their honors, and their errors; but they have +left us their adoration.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>THE LAMP OF TRUTH.</h3> + + +<p>I. There is a marked likeness between the virtues of man +and the enlightenment of the globe he inhabits—the same +diminishing gradation in vigor up to the limits of their domains, +the same essential separation from their contraries—the +same twilight at the meeting of the two: a something +wider belt than the line where the world rolls into night, that +strange twilight of the virtues; that dusky debateable land, +wherein zeal becomes impatience, and temperance becomes +severity, and justice becomes cruelty, and faith superstition, +and each and all vanish into gloom.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, with the greater number of them, though +their dimness increases gradually, we may mark the moment +of their sunset; and, happily, may turn the shadow back by +the way by which it had gone down: but for one, the line of +the horizon is irregular and undefined; and this, too, the very +equator and girdle of them all—Truth; that only one of +which there are no degrees, but breaks and rents continually; +that pillar of the earth, yet a cloudy pillar; that golden and +narrow line, which the very powers and virtues that lean upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +it bend, which policy and prudence conceal, which kindness +and courtesy modify, which courage overshadows with his +shield, imagination covers with her wings, and charity dims +with her tears. How difficult must the maintenance of that +authority be, which, while it has to restrain the hostility of +all the worst principles of man, has also to restrain the disorders +of his best—which is continually assaulted by the one, +and betrayed by the other, and which regards with the same +severity the lightest and the boldest violations of its law! +There are some faults slight in the sight of love, some errors +slight in the estimate of wisdom; but truth forgives no +insult, and endures no stain.</p> + +<p>We do not enough consider this; nor enough dread the +slight and continual occasions of offence against her. We +are too much in the habit of looking at falsehood in its darkest +associations, and through the color of its worst purposes. +That indignation which we profess to feel at deceit absolute, +is indeed only at deceit malicious. We resent calumny, hypocrisy +and treachery, because they harm us, not because they +are untrue. Take the detraction and the mischief from the +untruth, and we are little offended by it; turn it into praise, +and we may be pleased with it. And yet it is not calumny +nor treachery that does the largest sum of mischief in the +world; they are continually crushed, and are felt only in +being conquered. But it is the glistening and softly spoken +lie; the amiable fallacy; the patriotic lie of the historian, the +provident lie of the politician, the zealous lie of the partizan, +the merciful lie of the friend, and the careless lie of each man +to himself, that cast that black mystery over humanity, +through which any man who pierces, we thank as we would +thank one who dug a well in a desert; happy in that the +thirst for truth still remains with us, even when we have wilfully +left the fountains of it.</p> + +<p>It would be well if moralists less frequently confused the +greatness of a sin with its unpardonableness. The two characters +are altogether distinct. The greatness of a fault depends +partly on the nature of the person against whom it is committed, +partly upon the extent of its consequences. Its par<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>donableness +depends, humanly speaking, on the degree of +temptation to it. One class of circumstances determines the +weight of the attaching punishment; the other, the claim to +remission of punishment: and since it is not easy for men to +estimate the relative weight, nor possible for them to know +the relative consequences, of crime, it is usually wise in them +to quit the care of such nice measurements, and to look to +the other and clearer condition of culpability; esteeming +those faults worst which are committed under least temptation. +I do not mean to diminish the blame of the injurious +and malicious sin, of the selfish and deliberate falsity; yet it +seems to me, that the shortest way to check the darker forms +of deceit is to set watch more scrupulous against those which +have mingled, unregarded and unchastised, with the current +of our life. Do not let us lie at all. Do not think of one +falsity as harmless, and another as slight, and another as unintended. +Cast them all aside: they may be light and accidental; +but they are an ugly soot from the smoke of the pit, +for all that; and it is better that our hearts should be swept +clean of them, without over care as to which is largest or +blackest. Speaking truth is like writing fair, and comes only +by practice; it is less a matter of will than of habit, and I +doubt if any occasion can be trivial which permits the practice +and formation of such a habit. To speak and act truth with +constancy and precision is nearly as difficult, and perhaps as +meritorious, as to speak it under intimidation or penalty; +and it is a strange thought how many men there are, as I +trust, who would hold to it at the cost of fortune or life, for +one who would hold to it at the cost of a little daily trouble. +And seeing that of all sin there is, perhaps, no one more flatly +opposite to the Almighty, no one more "wanting the good of +virtue and of being," than this of lying, it is surely a strange +insolence to fall into the foulness of it on light or on no temptation, +and surely becoming an honorable man to resolve that, +whatever semblances or fallacies the necessary course of his +life may compel him to bear or to believe, none shall disturb +the serenity of his voluntary actions, nor diminish the reality +of his chosen delights.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>II. If this be just and wise for truth's sake, much more is +it necessary for the sake of the delights over which she has influence. +For, as I advocated the expression of the Spirit of +Sacrifice in the acts and pleasures of men, not as if thereby +those acts could further the cause of religion, but because +most assuredly they might therein be infinitely ennobled themselves, +so I would have the Spirit or Lamp of Truth clear in +the hearts of our artists and handicraftsmen, not as if the +truthful practice of handicrafts could far advance the cause of +truth, but because I would fain see the handicrafts themselves +urged by the spurs of chivalry: and it is, indeed, marvellous +to see what power and universality there is in this single principle, +and how in the consulting or forgetting of it lies half +the dignity or decline of every art and act of man. I have before +endeavored to show its range and power in painting; and +I believe a volume, instead of a chapter, might be written on +its authority over all that is great in architecture. But I must +be content with the force of instances few and familiar, believing +that the occasions of its manifestation may be more easily +discovered by a desire to be true, than embraced by an analysis +of truth.</p> + +<p>Only it is very necessary in the outset to mark clearly +wherein consists the essence of fallacy as distinguished from +supposition.</p> + +<p>III. For it might be at first thought that the whole kingdom +of imagination was one of deception also. Not so: the +action of the imagination is a voluntary summoning of the +conceptions of things absent or impossible; and the pleasure +and nobility of the imagination partly consist in its knowledge +and contemplation of them as such, i.e. in the knowledge of +their actual absence or impossibility at the moment of their +apparent presence or reality. When the imagination deceives +it becomes madness. It is a noble faculty so long as it confesses +its own ideality; when it ceases to confess this, it is +insanity. All the difference lies in the fact of the confession, +in there being <i>no</i> deception. It is necessary to our rank as +spiritual creatures, that we should be able to invent and to +behold what is not; and to our rank as moral creatures<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +that we should know and confess at the same time that it is +not.</p> + +<p>IV. Again, it might be thought, and has been thought, that +the whole art of painting is nothing else than an endeavor to +deceive. Not so: it is, on the contrary, a statement of certain +facts, in the clearest possible way. For instance: I desire to +give an account of a mountain or of a rock; I begin by telling +its shape. But words will not do this distinctly, and I draw +its shape, and say, "This was its shape." Next: I would fain +represent its color; but words will not do this either, and I +dye the paper, and say, "This was its color." Such a process +may be carried on until the scene appears to exist, and a high +pleasure may be taken in its apparent existence. This is a +communicated act of imagination, but no lie. The lie can +consist only in an <i>assertion</i> of its existence (which is never for +one instant made, implied, or believed), or else in false statements +of forms and colors (which are, indeed, made and believed +to our great loss, continually). And observe, also, that +so degrading a thing is deception in even the approach and +appearance of it, that all painting which even reaches the +mark of apparent realization, is degraded in so doing. I have +enough insisted on this point in another place.</p> + +<p>V. The violations of truth, which dishonor poetry and +painting, are thus for the most part confined to the treatment +of their subjects. But in architecture another and a less subtle, +more contemptible, violation of truth is possible; a direct +falsity of assertion respecting the nature of material, or the +quantity of labor. And this is, in the full sense of the word, +wrong; it is as truly deserving of reprobation as any other +moral delinquency; it is unworthy alike of architects and of +nations; and it has been a sign, wherever it has widely and +with toleration existed, of a singular debasement of the arts; +that it is not a sign of worse than this, of a general want of +severe probity, can be accounted for only by our knowledge +of the strange separation which has for some centuries existed +between the arts and all other subjects of human intellect, as +matters of conscience. This withdrawal of conscientiousness +from among the faculties concerned with art, while it has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +destroyed the arts themselves, has also rendered in a measure +nugatory the evidence which otherwise they might have presented +respecting the character of the respective nations among +whom they have been cultivated; otherwise, it might appear +more than strange that a nation so distinguished for its general +uprightness and faith as the English, should admit in +their architecture more of pretence, concealment, and deceit, +than any other of this or of past time.</p> + +<p>They are admitted in thoughtlessness, but with fatal effect +upon the art in which they are practised. If there were no +other causes for the failures which of late have marked every +great occasion for architectural exertion, these petty dishonesties +would be enough to account for all. It is the first step +and not the least, towards greatness to do away with these; +the first, because so evidently and easily in our power. We +may not be able to command good, or beautiful, or inventive +architecture; but we <i>can</i> command an honest architecture: +the meagreness of poverty may be pardoned, the sternness +of utility respected; but what is there but scorn for the meanness +of deception?</p> + +<p>VI. Architectural Deceits are broadly to be considered under +three heads:—</p> + +<p>1st. The suggestion of a mode of structure or support, +other than the true one; as in pendants of late Gothic roofs.</p> + +<p>2d. The painting of surfaces to represent some other material +than that of which they actually consist (as in the marbling +of wood), or the deceptive representation of sculptured +ornament upon them.</p> + +<p>3d. The use of cast or machine-made ornaments of any kind.</p> + +<p>Now, it may be broadly stated, that architecture will be +noble exactly in the degree in which all these false expedients +are avoided. Nevertheless, there are certain degrees of them, +which, owing to their frequent usage, or to other causes, have +so far lost the nature of deceit as to be admissible; as, for +instance, gilding, which is in architecture no deceit, because +it is therein not understood for gold; while in jewellery it is +a deceit, because it is so understood, and therefore altogether +to be reprehended. So that there arise, in the application of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +the strict rules of right, many exceptions and niceties of conscience; +which let us as briefly as possible examine.</p> + +<p>VII. 1st. Structural Deceits. I have limited these to the +determined and purposed suggestion of a mode of support +other than the true one. The architect is not <i>bound</i> to exhibit +structure; nor are we to complain of him for concealing +it, any more than we should regret that the outer surfaces of +the human frame conceal much of its anatomy; nevertheless, +that building will generally be the noblest, which to an intelligent +eye discovers the great secrets of its structure, as an +animal form does, although from a careless observer they +may be concealed. In the vaulting of a Gothic roof it is no +deceit to throw the strength into the ribs of it, and make the +intermediate vault a mere shell. Such a structure would be +presumed by an intelligent observer, the first time he saw +such a roof; and the beauty of its traceries would be enhanced +to him if they confessed and followed the lines of its main +strength. If, however, the intermediate shell were made of +wood instead of stone, and whitewashed to look like the rest,—this +would, of course, be direct deceit, and altogether unpardonable.</p> + +<p>There is, however, a certain deception necessarily occurring +in Gothic architecture, which relates, not to the points, +but to the manner, of support. The resemblance in its shafts +and ribs to the external relations of stems and branches, +which has been the ground of so much foolish speculation, +necessarily induces in the mind of the spectator a sense or +belief of a correspondent internal structure; that is to say, +of a fibrous and continuous strength from the root into the +limbs, and an elasticity communicated <i>upwards,</i> sufficient for +the support of the ramified portions. The idea of the real +conditions, of a great weight of ceiling thrown upon certain +narrow, jointed lines, which have a tendency partly to be +crushed, and partly to separate and be pushed outwards, is +with difficulty received; and the more so when the pillars +would be, if unassisted, too slight for the weight, and are supported +by external flying buttresses, as in the apse of Beauvais, +and other such achievements of the bolder Gothic. Now,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +there is a nice question of conscience in this, which we shall +hardly settle but by considering that, when the mind is informed +beyond the possibility of mistake as to the true nature +of things, the affecting it with a contrary impression, however +distinct, is no dishonesty, but on the contrary, a legitimate +appeal to the imagination. For instance, the greater part of +the happiness which we have in contemplating clouds, results +from the impression of their having massive, luminous, warm, +and mountain-like surfaces; and our delight in the sky frequently +depends upon our considering it as a blue vault. +But we know the contrary, in both instances; we know the +cloud to be a damp fog, or a drift of snow flakes; and +the sky to be a lightless abyss. There is, therefore, no +dishonesty, while there is much delight, in the irresistibly +contrary impression. In the same way, so long as we see the +stones and joints, and are not deceived as to the points of +support in any piece of architecture, we may rather praise +than regret the dextrous artifices which compel us to feel as +if there were fibre in its shafts and life in its branches. Nor +is even the concealment of the support of the external buttress +reprehensible, so long as the pillars are not sensibly inadequate +to their duty. For the weight of a roof is a circumstance +of which the spectator generally has no idea, and the +provisions for it, consequently, circumstances whose necessity +or adaptation he could not understand. It is no deceit, +therefore, when the weight to be borne is necessarily unknown, +to conceal also the means of bearing it, leaving only +to be perceived so much of the support as is indeed adequate +to the weight supposed. For the shafts do, indeed, bear as +much as they are ever imagined to bear, and the system of +added support is no more, as a matter of conscience, to be +exhibited, than, in the human or any other form, mechanical +provisions for those functions which are themselves unperceived.</p> + +<p>But the moment that the conditions of weight are comprehended, +both truth and feeling require that the conditions +of support should be also comprehended. Nothing can be +worse, either as judged by the taste or the conscience, than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +affectedly inadequate supports—suspensions in air, and other +such tricks and vanities. Mr. Hope wisely reprehends, for +this reason, the arrangement of the main piers of St. Sophia +at Constantinople. King's College Chapel, Cambridge, is a +piece of architectural juggling, if possible still more to be +condemned, because less sublime.</p> + +<p>VIII. With deceptive concealments of structure are to be +classed, though still more blameable, deceptive assumptions of +it—the introduction of members which should have, or profess +to have, a duty, and have none. One of the most general instances +of this will be found in the form of the flying buttress +in late Gothic. The use of that member is, of course, to convey +support from one pier to another when the plan of the +building renders it necessary or desirable that the supporting +masses should be divided into groups, the most frequent necessity +of this kind arising from the intermediate range of chapels +or aisles between the nave or choir walls and their supporting +piers. The natural, healthy, and beautiful arrangement is that +of a steeply sloping bar of stone, sustained by an arch with its +spandril carried farthest down on the lowest side, and dying +into the vertical of the outer pier; that pier being, of course, +not square, but rather a piece of wall set at right angles to the +supported walls, and, if need be, crowned by a pinnacle to give +it greater weight. The whole arrangement is exquisitely carried +out in the choir of Beauvais. In later Gothic the pinnacle +became gradually a decorative member, and was used in all +places merely for the sake of its beauty. There is no objection +to this; it is just as lawful to build a pinnacle for its beauty as +a tower; but also the buttress became a decorative member; +and was used, first, where it was not wanted, and, secondly, in +forms in which it could be of no use, becoming a mere tie, not +between the pier and wall, but between the wall and the top +of the decorative pinnacle, thus attaching itself to the very +point where its thrust, if it made any, could not be resisted. +The most flagrant instance of this barbarism that I remember +(though it prevails partially in all the spires of the Netherlands), +is the lantern of St. Ouen at Rouen, where the pierced +buttress, having an ogee curve, looks about as much calculated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +to bear a thrust as a switch of willow; and the pinnacles, huge +and richly decorated, have evidently no work to do whatsoever, +but stand round the central tower, like four idle servants, as +they are—heraldic supporters, that central tower being merely +a hollow crown, which needs no more buttressing than a +basket does. In fact, I do not know anything more strange or +unwise than the praise lavished upon this lantern; it is one of +the basest pieces of Gothic in Europe; its flamboyant traceries +of the last and most degraded forms;<a href="#NOTE_V" class="fnanchor">5</a> and its entire plan and +decoration resembling, and deserving little more credit than, +the burnt sugar ornaments of elaborate confectionery. There +are hardly any of the magnificent and serene constructions of +the early Gothic which have not, in the course of time, been +gradually thinned and pared away into these skeletons, which +sometimes indeed, when their lines truly follow the structure +of the original masses, have an interest like that of the fibrous +framework of leaves from which the substance has been dissolved, +but which are usually distorted as well as emaciated, and +remain but the sickly phantoms and mockeries of things that +were; they are to true architecture what the Greek ghost was +to the armed and living frame; and the very winds that whistle +through the threads of them, are to the diapasoned echoes +of the ancient walls, as to the voice of the man was the pining +of the spectre.<a href="#NOTE_VI" class="fnanchor">6</a></p> + +<p>IX. Perhaps the most fruitful source of these kinds of corruption +which we have to guard against in recent times, is one +which, nevertheless, comes in a "questionable shape," and of +which it is not easy to determine the proper laws and limits; +I mean the use of iron. The definition of the art of architecture, +given in the first chapter, is independent of its materials: +nevertheless, that art having been, up to the beginning of the +present century, practised for the most part in clay, stone, or +wood, it has resulted that the sense of proportion and the laws +of structure have been based, the one altogether, the other in +great part, on the necessities consequent on the employment +of those materials; and that the entire or principal employment +of metallic framework would, therefore, be generally felt +as a departure from the first principles of the art. Abstract<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>edly +there appears no reason why iron should not be used as +well as wood; and the time is probably near when a new system +of architectural laws will be developed, adapted entirely +to metallic construction. But I believe that the tendency of +all present sympathy and association is to limit the idea of +architecture to non-metallic work; and that not without reason. +For architecture being in its perfection the earliest, as in its +elements it is necessarily the first, of arts, will always precede, +in any barbarous nation, the possession of the science necessary +either for the obtaining or the management of iron. Its first +existence and its earliest laws must, therefore, depend upon the +use of materials accessible in quantity, and on the surface of +the earth; that is to say, clay, wood, or stone: and as I think +it cannot but be generally felt that one of the chief dignities of +architecture is its historical use; and since the latter is partly +dependent on consistency of style, it will be felt right to retain +as far as may be, even in periods of more advanced science, +the materials and principles of earlier ages.</p> + +<p>X. But whether this be granted me or not, the fact is, that +every idea respecting size, proportion, decoration, or construction, +on which we are at present in the habit of acting or judging, +depends on presupposition of such materials: and as I +both feel myself unable to escape the influence of these prejudices, +and believe that my readers will be equally so, it may +be perhaps permitted to me to assume that true architecture +does not admit iron as a constructive material,<a href="#NOTE_VII" class="fnanchor">7</a> and that such +works as the cast-iron central spire of Rouen Cathedral, or the +iron roofs and pillars of our railway stations, and of some of +our churches, are not architecture at all. Yet it is evident +that metals may, and sometimes must, enter into the construction +to a certain extent, as nails in wooden architecture, and +therefore as legitimately rivets and solderings in stone; neither +can we well deny to the Gothic architect the power of supporting +statues, pinnacles, or traceries by iron bars; and if we +grant this I do not see how we can help allowing Brunelleschi +his iron chain around the dome of Florence, or the builders +of Salisbury their elaborate iron binding of the central tower.<a href="#NOTE_VIII" class="fnanchor">8</a> +If, however, we would not fall into the old sophistry of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +grains of corn and the heap, we must find a rule which may +enable us to stop somewhere. This rule is, I think, that +metals may be used as a <i>cement</i> but not as a <i>support</i>. For as +cements of other kinds are often so strong that the stones may +easier be broken than separated, and the wall becomes a solid +mass without for that reason losing the character of architecture, +there is no reason why, when a nation has obtained the +knowledge and practice of iron work, metal rods or rivets +should not be used in the place of cement, and establish the +same or a greater strength and adherence, without in any wise +inducing departure from the types and system of architecture +before established; nor does it make any difference except as +to sightliness, whether the metal bands or rods so employed, +be in the body of the wall or on its exterior, or set as stays +and cross-bands; so only that the use of them be always and +distinctly one which might be superseded by mere strength +of cement; as for instance if a pinnacle or mullion be propped +or tied by an iron band, it is evident that the iron only prevents +the separation of the stones by lateral force, which the +cement would have done, had it been strong enough. But the +moment that the iron in the least degree takes the place of +the stone, and acts by its resistance to crushing, and bears +superincumbent weight, or if it acts by its own weight as a +counterpoise, and so supersedes the use of pinnacles or buttresses +in resisting a lateral thrust, or if, in the form of a rod +or girder, it is used to do what wooden beams would have +done as well, that instant the building ceases, so far as such +applications of metal extend, to be true architecture.</p> + +<p>XI. The limit, however, thus determined, is an ultimate +one, and it is well in all things to be cautious how we approach +the utmost limit of lawfulness; so that, although the employment +of metal within this limit cannot be considered as destroying +the very being and nature of architecture, it will, if, +extravagant and frequent, derogate from the dignity of the +work, as well as (which is especially to our present point) from +its honesty. For although the spectator is not informed as to +the quantity or strength of the cement employed, he will generally +conceive the stones of the building to be separable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +and his estimate of the skill of the architect will be based in a +great measure on his supposition of this condition, and of the difficulties +attendant upon it: so that it is always more honorable, +and it has a tendency to render the style of architecture both +more masculine and more scientific, to employ stone and mortar +simply as such, and to do as much as possible with the weight +of the one and the strength of the other, and rather sometimes +to forego a grace, or to confess a weakness, than attain the one, +or conceal the other, by means verging upon dishonesty.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, where the design is of such delicacy and +slightness as, in some parts of very fair and finished edifices, +it is desirable that it should be; and where both its completion +and security are in a measure dependent on the use +of metal, let not such use be reprehended; so only that as +much is done as may be, by good mortar and good masonry; +and no slovenly workmanship admitted through confidence +in the iron helps; for it is in this license as in that of wine, +a man may use it for his infirmities, but not for his nourishment.</p> + +<p>XII. And, in order to avoid an over use of this liberty, it +would be well to consider what application may be conveniently +made of the dovetailing and various adjusting of stones; +for when any artifice is necessary to help the mortar, certainly +this ought to come before the use of metal, for it is both +safer and more honest. I cannot see that any objection can +be made to the fitting of the stones in any shapes the architect +pleases: for although it would not be desirable to see +buildings put together like Chinese puzzles, there must always +be a check upon such an abuse of the practice in its +difficulty; nor is it necessary that it should be always exhibited, +so that it be understood by the spectator as an admitted +help, and that no principal stones are introduced in +positions apparently impossible for them to retain, although +a riddle here and there, in unimportant features, may sometimes +serve to draw the eye to the masonry, and make it interesting, +as well as to give a delightful sense of a kind of +necromantic power in the architect. There is a pretty one +in the lintel of the lateral door of the cathedral of Prato<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +(Plate IV. fig. 4.); where the maintenance of the visibly +separate stones, alternate marble and serpentine, cannot be +understood until their cross-cutting is seen below. Each +block is, of course, of the form given in fig. 5.</p> + +<p>XIII. Lastly, before leaving the subject of structural deceits, +I would remind the architect who thinks that I am unnecessarily +and narrowly limiting his resources or his art, +that the highest greatness and the highest wisdom are shown, +the first by a noble submission to, the second by a thoughtful +providence for, certain voluntarily admitted restraints. Nothing +is more evident than this, in that supreme government +which is the example, as it is the centre, of all others. The +Divine Wisdom is, and can be, shown to us only in its meeting +and contending with the difficulties which are voluntarily, and +<i>for the sake of that contest</i>, admitted by the Divine Omnipotence: +and these difficulties, observe, occur in the form of +natural laws or ordinances, which might, at many times and +in countless ways, be infringed with apparent advantage, but +which are never infringed, whatever costly arrangements or +adaptations their observance may necessitate for the accomplishment +of given purposes. The example most apposite to +our present subject is the structure of the bones of animals. +No reason can be given, I believe, why the system of the +higher animals should not have been made capable, as that of +the <i>Infusoria</i> is, of secreting flint, instead of phosphate of +lime, or more naturally still, carbon; so framing the bones of +adamant at once. The elephant or rhinoceros, had the earthy +part of their bones been made of diamond, might have been +as agile and light as grasshoppers, and other animals might +have been framed far more magnificently colossal than any +that walk the earth. In other worlds we may, perhaps, see +such creations; a creation for every element, and elements infinite. +But the architecture of animals <i>here</i>, is appointed by +God to be a marble architecture, not a flint nor adamant +architecture; and all manner of expedients are adopted to attain +the utmost degree of strength and size possible under +that great limitation. The jaw of the ichthyosaurus is pieced +and riveted, the leg of the megatherium is a foot thick, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +the head of the myodon has a double skull; we, in our wisdom, +should, doubtless, have given the lizard a steel jaw, and +the myodon a cast-iron headpiece, and forgotten the great +principle to which all creation bears witness, that order and +system are nobler things than power. But God shows us in +Himself, strange as it may seem, not only authoritative perfection, +but even the perfection of Obedience—an obedience +to His own laws: and in the cumbrous movement of those +unwieldiest of His creatures we are reminded, even in His +divine essence, of that attribute of uprightness in the human +creature "that sweareth to his own hurt and changeth +not."</p> + +<p>XIV. 2d. Surface Deceits. These may be generally defined +as the inducing the supposition of some form or material +which does not actually exist; as commonly in the painting +of wood to represent marble, or in the painting of ornaments +in deceptive relief, &c. But we must be careful to observe, +that the evil of them consists always in definitely attempted +<i>deception</i>, and that it is a matter of some nicety to mark the +point where deception begins or ends.</p> + +<p>Thus, for instance, the roof of Milan Cathedral is seemingly +covered with elaborate fan tracery, forcibly enough painted to +enable it, in its dark and removed position, to deceive a careless +observer. This is, of course, gross degradation; it destroys +much of the dignity even of the rest of the building, +and is in the very strongest terms to be reprehended.</p> + +<p>The roof of the Sistine Chapel has much architectural design +in grissaille mingled with the figures of its frescoes; and +the effect is increase of dignity.</p> + +<p>In what lies the distinctive character?</p> + +<p>In two points, principally:—First. That the architecture +is so closely associated with the figures, and has so grand fellowship +with them in its forms and cast shadows, that both +are at once felt to be of a piece; and as the figures must necessarily +be painted, the architecture is known to be so too. +There is thus no deception.</p> + +<p>Second. That so great a painter as Michael Angelo would +always stop short in such minor parts of his design, of the de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>gree +of vulgar force which would be necessary to induce the +supposition of their reality; and, strangely as it may sound, +would never paint badly enough to deceive.</p> + +<p>But though right and wrong are thus found broadly opposed +in works severally so mean and so mighty as the roof of Milan +and that of the Sistine, there are works neither so great nor so +mean, in which the limits of right are vaguely defined, and +will need some care to determine; care only, however, to apply +accurately the broad principle with which we set out, that +no form nor material is to be <i>deceptively</i> represented.</p> + +<p>XV. Evidently, then, painting, confessedly such, is no deception: +it does not assert any material whatever. Whether +it be on wood or on stone, or, as will naturally be supposed, +on plaster, does not matter. Whatever the material, good +painting makes it more precious; nor can it ever be said to +deceive respecting the ground of which it gives us no information. +To cover brick with plaster, and this plaster with fresco, +is, therefore, perfectly legitimate; and as desirable a mode of +decoration as it is constant in the great periods. Verona and +Venice are now seen deprived of more than half their former +splendor; it depended far more on their frescoes than their +marbles. The plaster, in this case, is to be considered as the +gesso ground on panel or canvas. But to cover brick with +cement, and to divide this cement with joints that it may look +like stone, is to tell a falsehood; and is just as contemptible a +procedure as the other is noble.</p> + +<p>It being lawful to paint then, is it lawful to paint everything? +So long as the painting is confessed—yes; but if, +even in the slightest degree, the sense of it be lost, and the +thing painted be supposed real—no. Let us take a few instances. +In the Campo Santo at Pisa, each fresco is surrounded +with a border composed of flat colored patterns of +great elegance—no part of it in attempted relief. The certainty +of flat surface being thus secured, the figures, though +the size of life, do not deceive, and the artist thenceforward is +at liberty to put forth his whole power, and to lead us through +fields and groves, and depths of pleasant landscape, and to +soothe us with the sweet clearness of far off sky, and yet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +never lose the severity of his primal purpose of architectural +decoration.</p> + +<p>In the Camera di Correggio of San Lodovico at Parma, the +trellises of vine shadow the walls, as if with an actual arbor; +and the troops of children, peeping through the oval openings, +luscious in color and faint in light, may well be expected +every instant to break through, or hide behind the +covert. The grace of their attitudes, and the evident greatness +of the whole work, mark that it is painting, and barely +redeem it from the charge of falsehood; but even so saved, +it is utterly unworthy to take a place among noble or legitimate +architectural decoration.</p> + +<p>In the cupola of the duomo of Parma the same painter has +represented the Assumption with so much deceptive power, +that he has made a dome of some thirty feet diameter look +like a cloud-wrapt opening in the seventh heaven, crowded +with a rushing sea of angels. Is this wrong? Not so: for +the subject at once precludes the possibility of deception. +We might have taken the vines for a veritable pergoda, and +the children for its haunting ragazzi; but we know the stayed +clouds and moveless angels must be man's work; let him put +his utmost strength to it and welcome, he can enchant us, +but cannot betray.</p> + +<p>We may thus apply the rule to the highest, as well as the +art of daily occurrence, always remembering that more is to +be forgiven to the great painter than to the mere decorative +workman; and this especially, because the former, even in +deceptive portions, will not trick us so grossly; as we have +just seen in Correggio, where a worse painter would have +made the thing look like life at once. There is, however, in +room, villa, or garden decoration, some fitting admission of +trickeries of this kind, as of pictured landscapes at the extremities +of alleys and arcades, and ceilings like skies, or +painted with prolongations upwards of the architecture of the +walls, which things have sometimes a certain luxury and +pleasureableness in places meant for idleness, and are innocent +enough as long as they are regarded as mere toys.</p> + +<p>XVI. Touching the false representation of material, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +question is infinitely more simple, and the law more sweeping; +all such imitations are utterly base and inadmissible. +It is melancholy to think of the time and expense lost in +marbling the shop fronts of London alone, and of the waste +of our resources in absolute vanities, in things about which +no mortal cares, by which no eye is ever arrested, unless +painfully, and which do not add one whit to comfort or cleanliness, +or even to that great object of commercial art—conspicuousness. +But in architecture of a higher rank, how +much more is it to be condemned? I have made it a rule in +the present work not to blame specifically; but I may, perhaps, +be permitted, while I express my sincere admiration of +the very noble entrance and general architecture of the +British Museum, to express also my regret that the noble +granite foundation of the staircase should be mocked at its +landing by an imitation, the more blameable because tolerably +successful. The only effect of it is to cast a suspicion upon +the true stones below, and upon every bit of granite afterwards +encountered. One feels a doubt, after it, of the honesty +of Memnon himself. But even this, however derogatory to +the noble architecture around it, is less painful than the +want of feeling with which, in our cheap modern churches, +we suffer the wall decorator to erect about the altar frameworks +and pediments daubed with mottled color, and to dye +in the same fashions such skeletons or caricatures of columns +as may emerge above the pews; this is not merely bad taste; +it is no unimportant or excusable error which brings even +these shadows of vanity and falsehood into the house of +prayer. The first condition which just feeling requires in +church furniture is, that it should be simple and unaffected, +not fictitious nor tawdry. It may be in our power to make it +beautiful, but let it at least be pure; and if we cannot permit +much to the architect, do not let us permit anything to the +upholsterer; if we keep to solid stone and solid wood, whitewashed, +if we like, for cleanliness' sake (for whitewash has so +often been used as the dress of noble things that it has thence +received a kind of nobility itself), it must be a bad design indeed +which is grossly offensive. I recollect no instance of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +want of sacred character, or of any marked and painful ugliness, +in the simplest or the most awkwardly built village church, +where stone and wood were roughly and nakedly used, and the +windows latticed with white glass. But the smoothly stuccoed +walls, the flat roofs with ventilator ornaments, the +barred windows with jaundiced borders and dead ground +square panes, the gilded or bronzed wood, the painted iron, +the wretched upholstery of curtains and cushions, and pew +heads and altar railings, and Birmingham metal candlesticks, +and, above all, the green and yellow sickness of the false +marble—disguises all, observe; falsehoods all—who are they +who like these things? who defend them? who do them? I +have never spoken to any one who <i>did</i> like them, though to +many who thought them matters of no consequence. Perhaps +not to religion (though I cannot but believe that there +are many to whom, as to myself, such things are serious obstacles +to the repose of mind and temper which should precede +devotional exercises); but to the general tone of our +judgment and feeling—yes; for assuredly we shall regard, +with tolerance, if not with affection, whatever forms of material +things we have been in the habit of associating with our +worship, and be little prepared to detect or blame hypocrisy, +meanness, and disguise in other kinds of decoration when we +suffer objects belonging to the most solemn of all services to +be tricked out in a fashion so fictitious and unseemly.</p> + +<p>XVII. Painting, however, is not the only mode in which +material may be concealed, or rather simulated; for merely +to conceal is, as we have seen, no wrong. Whitewash, for instance, +though often (by no means always) to be regretted as +a concealment, is not to be blamed as a falsity. It shows itself +for what it is, and asserts nothing of what is beneath it. +Gilding has become, from its frequent use, equally innocent. +It is understood for what it is, a film merely, and is, therefore, +allowable to any extent. I do not say expedient: it is one of +the most abused means of magnificence we possess, and I +much doubt whether any use we ever make of it, balances +that loss of pleasure, which, from the frequent sight and perpetual +suspicion of it, we suffer in the contemplation of any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>thing +that is verily of gold. I think gold was meant to be seldom +seen and to be admired as a precious thing; and I sometimes +wish that truth should so far literally prevail as that all +should be gold that glittered, or rather that nothing should +glitter that was not gold. Nevertheless, nature herself does +not dispense with such semblance, but uses light for it; and +I have too great a love for old and saintly art to part with its +burnished field, or radiant nimbus; only it should be used +with respect, and to express magnificence, or sacredness, and +not in lavish vanity, or in sign painting. Of its expedience, +however, any more than of that of color, it is not here the place +to speak; we are endeavoring to determine what is lawful, not +what is desirable. Of other and less common modes of disguising +surface, as of powder of lapis lazuli, or mosaic imitations +of colored stones, I need hardly speak. The rule will +apply to all alike, that whatever is pretended, is wrong; commonly +enforced also by the exceeding ugliness and insufficient +appearance of such methods, as lately in the style of renovation +by which half the houses in Venice have been defaced, +the brick covered first with stucco, and this painted with +zigzag veins in imitation of alabaster. But there is one more +form of architectural fiction, which is so constant in the great +periods that it needs respectful judgment. I mean the facing +of brick with precious stone.</p> + +<p>XVIII. It is well known, that what is meant by a church's +being built of marble is, in nearly all cases, only that a veneering +of marble has been fastened on the rough brick wall, built +with certain projections to receive it; and that what appear +to be massy stones, are nothing more than external slabs.</p> + +<p>Now, it is evident, that, in this case, the question of right +is on the same ground as in that of gilding. If it be clearly +understood that a marble facing does not pretend or imply a +marble wall, there is no harm in it; and as it is also evident +that, when very precious stones are used, as jaspers and serpentines, +it must become, not only an extravagant and vain +increase of expense, but sometimes an actual impossibility, to +obtain mass of them enough to build with, there is no resource +but this of veneering; nor is there anything to be alleged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +against it on the head of durability, such work having been +by experience found to last as long, and in as perfect condition, +as any kind of masonry. It is, therefore, to be considered +as simply an art of mosaic on a large scale, the ground being +of brick, or any other material; and when lovely stones are to +be obtained, it is a manner which should be thoroughly understood, +and often practised. Nevertheless, as we esteem the +shaft of a column more highly for its being of a single block, +and as we do not regret the loss of substance and value which +there is in things of solid gold, silver, agate, or ivory; so I +think the walls themselves may be regarded with a more just +complacency if they are known to be all of noble substance; +and that rightly weighing the demands of the two principles +of which we have hitherto spoken—Sacrifice and Truth, we +should sometimes rather spare external ornament than diminish +the unseen value and consistency of what we do; and I +believe that a better manner of design, and a more careful and +studious, if less abundant decoration would follow, upon the +consciousness of thoroughness in the substance. And, indeed, +this is to be remembered, with respect to all the points we +have examined; that while we have traced the limits of license, +we have not fixed those of that high rectitude which refuses +license. It is thus true that there is no falsity, and much +beauty in the use of external color, and that it is lawful to paint +either pictures or patterns on whatever surfaces may seem to +need enrichment. But it is not less true, that such practices +are essentially unarchitectural; and while we cannot say that +there is actual danger in an over use of them, seeing that they +have been <i>always</i> used most lavishly in the times of most noble +art, yet they divide the work into two parts and kinds, one of +less durability than the other, which dies away from it in process +of ages, and leaves it, unless it have noble qualities of its +own, naked and bare. That enduring noblesse I should, therefore, +call truly architectural; and it is not until this has been +secured that the accessory power of painting may be called in, +for the delight of the immediate time; nor this, as I think, +until every resource of a more stable kind has been exhausted. +The true colors of architecture are those of natural stone, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +I would fain see these taken advantage of to the full. Every +variety of hue, from pale yellow to purple, passing through +orange, red, and brown, is entirely at our command; nearly +every kind of green and gray is also attainable: and with +these, and pure white, what harmonies might we not achieve? +Of stained and variegated stone, the quantity is unlimited, the +kinds innumerable; where brighter colors are required, let +glass, and gold protected by glass, be used in mosaic—a kind +of work as durable as the solid stone, and incapable of losing +its lustre by time—and let the painter's work be reserved for +the shadowed <i>loggia</i> and inner chamber. This is the true and +faithful way of building; where this cannot be, the device of +external coloring may, indeed, be employed without dishonor; +but it must be with the warning reflection, that a time will +come when such aids must pass away, and when the building +will be judged in its lifelessness, dying the death of the dolphin. +Better the less bright, more enduring fabric. The +transparent alabasters of San Miniato, and the mosaics of St. +Mark's, are more warmly filled, and more brightly touched, by +every return of morning and evening rays; while the hues of +our cathedrals have died like the iris out of the cloud; and +the temples whose azure and purple once flamed above the +Grecian promontories, stand in their faded whiteness, like +snows which the sunset has left cold.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 595px;"> +<img src="images/i063.png" width="595" height="985" alt="PLATE II." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE II.—(Page 55—Vol. V.)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Part of the Cathedral of St. Lo, Normandy.</span></span> +</div> + +<p>XIX. The last form of fallacy which it will be remembered +we had to deprecate, was the substitution of cast or machine +work for that of the hand, generally expressible as Operative +Deceit.</p> + +<p>There are two reasons, both weighty, against this practice; +one, that all cast and machine work is bad, as work; the +other, that it is dishonest. Of its badness, I shall speak in +another place, that being evidently no efficient reason against +its use when other cannot be had. Its dishonesty, however, +which, to my mind, is of the grossest kind, is, I think, a sufficient +reason to determine absolute and unconditional rejection +of it.</p> + +<p>Ornament, as I have often before observed, has two entirely +distinct sources of agreeableness: one, that of the ab<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>stract +beauty of its forms, which, for the present, we will +suppose to be the same whether they come from the hand or +the machine; the other, the sense of human labor and care +spent upon it. How great this latter influence we may perhaps +judge, by considering that there is not a cluster of weeds +growing in any cranny of ruin which has not a beauty in all +respects <i>nearly</i> equal, and, in some, immeasurably superior, to +that of the most elaborate sculpture of its stones: and that +all our interest in the carved work, our sense of its richness, +though it is tenfold less rich than the knots of grass beside +it; of its delicacy, though it is a thousand fold less delicate; +of its admirableness, though a millionfold less admirable; results +from our consciousness of its being the work of poor, +clumsy, toilsome man. Its true delightfulness depends on +our discovering in it the record of thoughts, and intents, and +trials, and heart-breakings—of recoveries and joyfulnesses of +success: all this <i>can</i> be traced by a practised eye; but, granting +it even obscure, it is presumed or understood; and in +that is the worth of the thing, just as much as the worth of +anything else we call precious. The worth of a diamond is +simply the understanding of the time it must take to look for +it before it can be cut. It has an intrinsic value besides, +which the diamond has not (for a diamond has no more real +beauty than a piece of glass); but I do not speak of that at +present; I place the two on the same ground; and I suppose +that hand-wrought ornament can no more be generally known +from machine work, than a diamond can be known from +paste; nay, that the latter may deceive, for a moment, the +mason's, as the other the jeweller's eye; and that it can be +detected only by the closest examination. Yet exactly as a +woman of feeling would not wear false jewels, so would a +builder of honor disdain false ornaments. The using of them +is just as downright and inexcusable a lie. You use that +which pretends to a worth which it has not; which pretends +to have cost, and to be, what it did not, and is not; it is an +imposition, a vulgarity, an impertinence, and a sin. Down +with it to the ground, grind it to powder, leave its ragged +place upon the wall, rather; you have not paid for it, you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +have no business with it, you do not want it. Nobody wants +ornaments in this world, but everybody wants integrity. All +the fair devices that ever were fancied, are not worth a lie. +Leave your walls as bare as a planed board, or build them of +baked mud and chopped straw, if need be; but do not +rough-cast them with falsehood.</p> + +<p>This, then, being our general law, and I hold it for a more +imperative one than any other I have asserted; and this kind +of dishonesty the meanest, as the least necessary; for ornament +is an extravagant and inessential thing; and, therefore, +if fallacious, utterly base—this, I say, being our general law, +there are, nevertheless, certain exceptions respecting particular +substances and their uses.</p> + +<p>XX. Thus in the use of brick; since that is known to be +originally moulded, there is no reason why it should not be +moulded into diverse forms. It will never be supposed to +have been cut, and therefore, will cause no deception; it will +have only the credit it deserves. In flat countries, far from +any quarry of stone, cast brick may be legitimately, and most +successfully, used in decoration, and that elaborate, and even +refined. The brick mouldings of the Palazzo Pepoli at +Bologna, and those which run round the market-place of Vercelli, +are among the richest in Italy. So also, tile and porcelain +work, of which the former is grotesquely, but successfully, +employed in the domestic architecture of France, colored +tiles being inserted in the diamond spaces between the +crossing timbers; and the latter admirably in Tuscany, in +external bas-reliefs, by the Robbia family, in which works, +while we cannot but sometimes regret the useless and ill-arranged +colors, we would by no means blame the employment +of a material which, whatever its defects, excels every other +in permanence, and, perhaps, requires even greater skill in its +management than marble. For it is not the material, but +the absence of the human labor, which makes the thing +worthless; and a piece of terra cotta, or of plaster of Paris, +which has been wrought by human hand, is worth all the +stone in Carrara, cut by machinery. It is, indeed, possible, +and even usual, for men to sink into machines themselves, so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +that even hand-work has all the characters of mechanism; of +the difference between living and dead hand-work I shall +speak presently; all that I ask at present is, what it is always +in our power to secure—the confession of what we have done, +and what we have given; so that when we use stone at all, +since all stone is naturally supposed to be carved by hand, +we must not carve it by machinery; neither must we use any +artificial stone cast into shape, nor any stucco ornaments of +the color of stone, or which might in anywise be mistaken for +it, as the stucco mouldings in the cortile of the Palazzo Vecchio +at Florence, which cast a shame and suspicion over every +part of the building. But for ductile and fusible materials, +as clay, iron, and bronze, since these will usually be supposed +to have been cast or stamped, it is at our pleasure to employ +them as we will; remembering that they become precious, or +otherwise, just in proportion to the hand-work upon them, or +to the clearness of their reception of the hand-work of their +mould.</p> + +<p>But I believe no cause to have been more active in the +degradation of our natural feeling for beauty, than the constant +use of cast iron ornaments. The common iron work of +the middle ages was as simple as it was effective, composed of +leafage cut flat out of sheet iron, and twisted at the workman's +will. No ornaments, on the contrary, are so cold, +clumsy, and vulgar, so essentially incapable of a fine line, or +shadow, as those of cast iron; and while, on the score of truth, +we can hardly allege anything against them, since they are +always distinguishable, at a glance, from wrought and hammered +work, and stand only for what they are, yet I feel very +strongly that there is no hope of the progress of the arts of +any nation which indulges in these vulgar and cheap substitutes +for real decoration. Their inefficiency and paltriness I +shall endeavor to show more conclusively in another place, +enforcing only, at present, the general conclusion that, if even +honest or allowable, they are things in which we can never +take just pride or pleasure, and must never be employed in +any place wherein they might either themselves obtain the +credit of being other and better than they are, or be asso<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>ciated +with the downright work to which it would be a disgrace +to be found in their company.</p> + +<p>Such are, I believe, the three principal kinds of fallacy by +which architecture is liable to be corrupted; there are, however, +other and more subtle forms of it, against which it is less +easy to guard by definite law, than by the watchfulness of a +manly and unaffected spirit. For, as it has been above noticed, +there are certain kinds of deception which extend to +impressions and ideas only; of which some are, indeed, of a +noble use, as that above referred to, the arborescent look of +lofty Gothic aisles; but of which the most part have so much +of legerdemain and trickery about them, that they will lower +any style in which they considerably prevail; and they are +likely to prevail when once they are admitted, being apt to +catch the fancy alike of uninventive architects and feelingless +spectators; just as mean and shallow minds are, in other +matters, delighted with the sense of over-reaching, or tickled +with the conceit of detecting the intention to over-reach; and +when subtleties of this kind are accompanied by the display +of such dextrous stone-cutting, or architectural sleight of +hand, as may become, even by itself, a subject of admiration, +it is a great chance if the pursuit of them do not gradually +draw us away from all regard and care for the nobler character +of the art, and end in its total paralysis or extinction. +And against this there is no guarding, but by stern disdain +of all display of dexterity and ingenious device, and by putting +the whole force of our fancy into the arrangement of +masses and forms, caring no more how these masses and +forms are wrought out, than a great painter cares which +way his pencil strikes. It would be easy to give many instances +of the danger of these tricks and vanities; but I +shall confine myself to the examination of one which has, as +I think, been the cause of the fall of Gothic architecture +throughout Europe. I mean the system of intersectional +mouldings, which, on account of its great importance, and +for the sake of the general reader, I may, perhaps, be pardoned +for explaining elementarily.</p> + +<p>XXI. I must, in the first place, however, refer to Professor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +Willis's account of the origin of tracery, given in the sixth +chapter of his Architecture of the Middle Ages; since the +publication of which I have been not a little amazed to hear +of any attempts made to resuscitate the inexcusably absurd +theory of its derivation from imitated vegetable form—inexcusably, +I say, because the smallest acquaintance with early +Gothic architecture would have informed the supporters of +that theory of the simple fact, that, exactly in proportion to +the antiquity of the work, the imitation of such organic forms +is less, and in the earliest examples does not exist at all. +There cannot be the shadow of a question, in the mind of a +person familiarised with any single series of consecutive examples, +that tracery arose from the gradual enlargement of +the penetrations of the shield of stone which, usually supported +by a central pillar, occupied the head of early windows. +Professor Willis, perhaps, confines his observations somewhat +too absolutely to the double sub-arch. I have given, in Plate +VII. fig. 2, an interesting case of rude penetration of a high +and simply trefoiled shield, from the church of the Eremitani +at Padua. But the more frequent and typical form is that of +the double sub-arch, decorated with various piercings of the +space between it and the superior arch; with a simple trefoil +under a round arch, in the Abbaye aux Hommes, Caen<a href="#NOTE_IX" class="fnanchor">9</a> +(Plate III. fig. 1); with a very beautifully proportioned quatrefoil, +in the triforium of Eu, and that of the choir of Lisieux; +with quatrefoils, sixfoils, and septfoils, in the transept towers +of Rouen (Plate III. fig. 2); with a trefoil awkwardly, and very +small quatrefoil above, at Coutances, (Plate III. fig. 3); then, +with multiplications of the same figures, pointed or round, giving +very clumsy shapes of the intermediate stone (fig. 4, from +one of the nave chapels of Rouen, fig. 5, from one of the nave +chapels of Bayeaux), and finally, by thinning out the stony +ribs, reaching conditions like that of the glorious typical form +of the clerestory of the apse of Beauvais (fig. 6).</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 613px;"> +<img src="images/i071.png" width="613" height="1055" alt="PLATE III." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE III.—(Page 60—Vol. V.)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Traceries From Caen, Bayeux, Rouen, and Beavais.</span></span> +</div> + + +<p>XXII. Now, it will be noticed that, during the whole of +this process, the attention is kept fixed on the forms of the +penetrations, that is to say, of the lights as seen from the interior, +not of the intermediate stone. All the grace of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +window is in the outline of its light; and I have drawn all +these traceries as seen from within, in order to show the effect +of the light thus treated, at first in far off and separate stars, +and then gradually enlarging, approaching, until they come +and stand over us, as it were, filling the whole space with their +effulgence. And it is in this pause of the star, that we have +the great, pure, and perfect form of French Gothic; it was +at the instant when the rudeness of the intermediate space +had been finally conquered, when the light had expanded to +its fullest, and yet had not lost its radiant unity, principality, +and visible first causing of the whole, that we have the most +exquisite feeling and most faultless judgments in the management +alike of the tracery and decorations. I have given, in +Plate X., an exquisite example of it, from a panel decoration +of the buttresses of the north door of Rouen; and in order +that the reader may understand what truly fine Gothic work +is, and how nobly it unites fantasy and law, as well as for our +immediate purpose, it will be well that he should examine its +sections and mouldings in detail (they are described in the +fourth Chapter, § xxvii.), and that the more carefully, because +this design belongs to a period in which the most important +change took place in the spirit of Gothic architecture, which, +perhaps, ever resulted from the natural progress of any art. +That tracery marks a pause between the laying aside of one +great ruling principle, and the taking up of another; a pause +as marked, as clear, as conspicuous to the distant view of +after times, as to the distant glance of the traveller is the +culminating ridge of the mountain chain over which he has +passed. It was the great watershed of Gothic art. Before it, +all had been ascent; after it, all was decline; both, indeed, +by winding paths and varied slopes; both interrupted, like +the gradual rise and fall of the passes of the Alps, by great +mountain outliers, isolated or branching from the central +chain, and by retrograde or parallel directions of the valleys +of access. But the track of the human mind is traceable up +to that glorious ridge, in a continuous line, and thence downwards. +Like a silver zone<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>—</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +"Flung about carelessly, it shines afar,<br /> +Catching the eye in many a broken link,<br /> +In many a turn and traverse, as it glides.<br /> +And oft above, and oft below, appears—<br /> +* * * * to him who journeys up<br /> +As though it were another."<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>And at that point, and that instant, reaching the place that +was nearest heaven, the builders looked back, for the last +time, to the way by which they had come, and the scenes +through which their early course had passed. They turned +away from them and their morning light, and descended towards +a new horizon, for a time in the warmth of western sun, +but plunging with every forward step into more cold and +melancholy shade.</p> + +<p>XXIII. The change of which I speak, is inexpressible in +few words, but one more important, more radically influential, +could not be. It was the substitution of the <i>line</i> for the <i>mass</i>, +as the element of decoration.</p> + +<p>We have seen the mode in which the openings or penetration +of the window expanded, until what were, at first, awkward +forms of intermediate stone, became delicate lines of +tracery: and I have been careful in pointing out the peculiar +attention bestowed on the proportion and decoration of the +mouldings of the window at Rouen, in Plate X., as compared +with earlier mouldings, because that beauty and care are singularly +significant. They mark that the traceries had <i>caught +the eye</i> of the architect. Up to that time, up to the very last +instant in which the reduction and thinning of the intervening +stone was consummated, his eye had been on the openings only, +on the stars of light. He did not care about the stone, a rude +border of moulding was all he needed, it was the penetrating +shape which he was watching. But when that shape had received +its last possible expansion, and when the stone-work +became an arrangement of graceful and parallel lines, that +arrangement, like some form in a picture, unseen and accidentally +developed, struck suddenly, inevitably, on the sight. It +had literally not been seen before. It flashed out in an instant +as an independent form. It became a feature of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +work. The architect took it under his care, thought over it, +and distributed its members as we see.</p> + +<p>Now, the great pause was at the moment when the space +and the dividing stone-work were both equally considered. +It did not last fifty years. The forms of the tracery were +seized with a childish delight in the novel source of beauty; +and the intervening space was cast aside, as an element of +decoration, for ever. I have confined myself, in following this +change, to the window, as the feature in which it is clearest. +But the transition is the same in every member of architecture; +and its importance can hardly be understood, unless we +take the pains to trace it in the universality, of which +illustrations, irrelevant to our present purpose, will be found in the +third Chapter. I pursue here the question of truth, relating +to the treatment of the mouldings.</p> + +<p>XXIV. The reader will observe that, up to the last expansion +of the penetrations, the stone-work was necessarily considered, +as it actually is, <i>stiff</i>, and unyielding. It was so, also, +during the pause of which I have spoken, when the forms of +the tracery were still severe and pure; delicate indeed, but +perfectly firm.</p> + +<p>At the close of the period of pause, the first sign of serious +change was like a low breeze, passing through the emaciated +tracery, and making it tremble. It began to undulate like the +threads of a cobweb lifted by the wind. It lost its essence as +a structure of stone. Reduced to the slenderness of threads, +it began to be considered as possessing also their flexibility. +The architect was pleased with this his new fancy, and set himself +to carry it out; and in a little time, the bars of tracery +were caused to appear to the eye as if they had been woven +together like a net. This was a change which sacrificed a +great principle of truth; it sacrificed the expression of the +qualities of the material; and, however delightful its results +in their first developments, it was ultimately ruinous.</p> + +<p>For, observe the difference between the supposition of ductility, +and that of elastic structure noticed above in the resemblance +to tree form. That resemblance was not sought, but +necessary; it resulted from the natural conditions of strength<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +in the pier or trunk, and slenderness in the ribs or branches, +while many of the other suggested conditions of resemblance +were perfectly true. A tree branch, though in a certain sense +flexible, is not ductile; it is as firm in its own form as the rib +of stone; both of them will yield up to certain limits, both of +them breaking when those limits are exceeded; while the tree +trunk will bend no more than the stone pillar. But when the +tracery is assumed to be as yielding as a silken cord; when +the whole fragility, elasticity, and weight of the material are +to the eye, if not in terms, denied; when all the art of the +architect is applied to disprove the first conditions of his working, +and the first attributes of his materials; <i>this</i> is a deliberate +treachery, only redeemed from the charge of direct falsehood +by the visibility of the stone surface, and degrading all +the traceries it affects exactly in the degree of its presence.</p> + +<p>XXV. But the declining and morbid taste of the later architects, +was not satisfied with thus much deception. They +were delighted with the subtle charm they had created, and +thought only of increasing its power. The next step was to +consider and represent the tracery, as not only ductile, but +penetrable; and when two mouldings met each other, to +manage their intersection, so that one should appear to pass +through the other, retaining its independence; or when two +ran parallel to each other, to represent the one as partly contained +within the other, and partly apparent above it. This +form of falsity was that which crushed the art. The flexible +traceries were often beautiful, though they were ignoble; but +the penetrated traceries, rendered, as they finally were, merely +the means of exhibiting the dexterity of the stone-cutter, annihilated +both the beauty and dignity of the Gothic types. +A system so momentous in its consequences deserves some +detailed examination.</p> + +<p>XXVI. In the drawing of the shafts of the door at Lisieux, +under the spandril, in Plate VII., the reader will see the mode +of managing the intersection of similar mouldings, which was +universal in the great periods. They melted into each other, +and became one at the point of crossing, or of contact; and +even the suggestion of so sharp intersection as this of Lisieux<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +is usually avoided (this design being, of course, only a pointed +form of the earlier Norman arcade, in which the arches are +interlaced, and lie each over the preceding, and under the following, +one, as in Anselm's tower at Canterbury), since, in the +plurality of designs, when mouldings meet each other, they +coincide through some considerable portion of their curves, +meeting by contact, rather than by intersection; and at the +point of coincidence the section of each separate moulding +becomes common to the two thus melted into each other. +Thus, in the junction of the circles of the window of the Palazzo +Foscari, Plate VIII., given accurately in fig. 8, Plate IV., +the section across the line <i>s</i>, is exactly the same as that across +any break of the separated moulding above, as <span class="overline">s</span>. It sometimes, +however, happens, that two different mouldings meet +each other. This was seldom permitted in the great periods, +and, when it took place, was most awkwardly managed. Fig. +1, Plate IV. gives the junction of the mouldings of the gable +and vertical, in the window of the <i>spire</i> of Salisbury. That +of the gable is composed of a single, and that of the vertical +of a double cavetto, decorated with ball-flowers; and the +larger single moulding swallows up one of the double ones, +and pushes forward among the smaller balls with the most +blundering and clumsy simplicity. In comparing the sections +it is to be observed that, in the upper one, the line <i>a b</i> represents +an actual vertical in the plane of the window; while, in +the lower one, the line <i>c d</i> represents the horizontal, in the +plane of the window, indicated by the perspective line <i>d e</i>.</p> + +<p>XXVII. The very awkwardness with which such occurrences +of difficulty are met by the earlier builder, marks his +dislike of the system, and unwillingness to attract the eye to +such arrangements. There is another very clumsy one, in the +junction of the upper and sub-arches of the triforium of +Salisbury; but it is kept in the shade, and all the prominent +junctions are of mouldings like each other, and managed with +perfect simplicity. But so soon as the attention of the builders +became, as we have just seen, fixed upon the lines of mouldings +instead of the enclosed spaces, those lines began to preserve an +independent existence wherever they met; and different mould<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>ings +were studiously associated, in order to obtain variety of +intersectional line. We must, however, do the late builders +the justice to note that, in one case, the habit grew out of a +feeling of proportion, more refined than that of earlier workmen. +It shows itself first in the bases of divided pillars, or +arch mouldings, whose smaller shafts had originally bases +formed by the continued base of the central, or other larger, +columns with which they were grouped; but it being felt, when +the eye of the architect became fastidious, that the dimension +of moulding which was right for the base of a large shaft, was +wrong for that of a small one, each shaft had an independent +base; at first, those of the smaller died simply down on that +of the larger; but when the vertical sections of both became +complicated, the bases of the smaller shafts were considered to +exist within those of the larger, and the places of their emergence, +on this supposition, were calculated with the utmost +nicety, and cut with singular precision; so that an elaborate +late base of a divided column, as, for instance, of those in the +nave of Abbeville, looks exactly as if its smaller shafts had all +been finished to the ground first, each with its complete and +intricate base, and then the comprehending base of the central +pier had been moulded over them in clay, leaving their points +and angles sticking out here and there, like the edges of sharp +crystals out of a nodule of earth. The exhibition of technical +dexterity in work of this kind is often marvellous, the strangest +possible shapes of sections being calculated to a hair's-breadth, +and the occurrence of the under and emergent forms being +rendered, even in places where they are so slight that they can +hardly be detected but by the touch. It is impossible to render +a very elaborate example of this kind intelligible, without +some fifty measured sections; but fig. 6, Plate IV. is a very interesting +and simple one, from the west gate of Rouen. It is +part of the base of one of the narrow piers between its principal +niches. The square column <i>k</i>, having a base with the profile +<i>p r</i>, is supposed to contain within itself another similar +one, set diagonally, and lifted so far above the inclosing one, +as that the recessed part of its profile <i><span class="overline">p</span> r</i> shall fall behind the +projecting part of the outer one. The angle of its upper +portion exactly meets the plane of the side of the upper inclosing +shaft 4, and would, therefore, not be seen, unless two vertical +cuts were made to exhibit it, which form two dark lines the +whole way up the shaft. Two small pilasters are run, like +fastening stitches, through the junction on the front of the +shafts. The sections <i><span class="overline">k</span> <span class="overline">n</span></i> taken respectively at the levels <i>k, n</i>, +will explain the hypothetical construction of the whole. Fig. +7 is a base, or joint rather (for passages of this form occur +again and again, on the shafts of flamboyant work), of one of +the smallest piers of the pedestals which support the lost statues +of the porch; its section below would be the same as <i><span class="overline">n</span></i>, +and its construction, after what has been said of the other +base, will be at once perceived.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 611px;"> +<img src="images/i079.png" width="611" height="1034" alt="PLATE IV." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE IV.—(Page 66—Vol. V.)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Intersectional Mouldings.</span></span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>XXVIII. There was, however, in this kind of involution, +much to be admired as well as reprehended, the proportions +of quantities were always as beautiful as they were intricate; +and, though the lines of intersection were harsh, they were +exquisitely opposed to the flower-work of the interposing +mouldings. But the fancy did not stop here; it rose from +the bases into the arches; and there, not finding room enough +for its exhibition, it withdrew the capitals from the heads +even of cylindrical shafts, (we cannot but admire, while we +regret, the boldness of the men who could defy the authority +and custom of all the nations of the earth for a space of some +three thousand years,) in order that the arch mouldings might +appear to emerge from the pillar, as at its base they had been +lost in it, and not to terminate on the abacus of the capital; +then they ran the mouldings across and through each other, +at the point of the arch; and finally, not finding their natural +directions enough to furnish as many occasions of intersection +as they wished, bent them hither and thither, and cut off their +ends short, when they had passed the point of intersection. +Fig. 2, Plate IV. is part of a flying buttress from the apse of +St. Gervais at Falaise, in which the moulding whose section +is rudely given above at <i><span class="overline">f</span></i>, (taken vertically through the point +<i>f</i>,) is carried thrice through itself, in the cross-bar and two +arches; and the flat fillet is cut off sharp at the end of the +cross-bar, for the mere pleasure of the truncation. Fig. 3 is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +half of the head of a door in the Stadthaus of Sursee, in which +the shaded part of the section of the joint <i>g g</i>, is that of the +arch-moulding, which is three times reduplicated, and six +times intersected by itself, the ends being cut off when they +become unmanageable. This style is, indeed, earlier exaggerated +in Switzerland and Germany, owing to the imitation +in stone of the dovetailing of wood, particularly of the intersecting +of beams at the angles of châlets; but it only furnishes +the more plain instance of the danger of the fallacious system +which, from the beginning, repressed the German, and, in +the end, ruined the French Gothic. It would be too painful +a task to follow further the caricatures of form, and eccentricities +of treatment, which grow out of this singular abuse—the +flattened arch, the shrunken pillar, the lifeless ornament, +the liny moulding, the distorted and extravagant foliation, +until the time came when, over these wrecks and remnants, +deprived of all unity and principle, rose the foul torrent +of the renaissance, and swept them all away. So fell the great +dynasty of mediæval architecture. It was because it had lost +its own strength, and disobeyed its own laws—because its order, +and consistency, and organization, had been broken through—that +it could oppose no resistance to the rush of overwhelming +innovation. And this, observe, all because it had sacrificed +a single truth. From that one surrender of its integrity, +from that one endeavor to assume the semblance of what it +was not, arose the multitudinous forms of disease and decrepitude, +which rotted away the pillars of its supremacy. It was +not because its time was come; it was not because it was +scorned by the classical Romanist, or dreaded by the faithful +Protestant. That scorn and that fear it might have survived, +and lived; it would have stood forth in stern comparison with +the enervated sensuality of the renaissance; it would have +risen in renewed and purified honor, and with a new soul, +from the ashes into which it sank, giving up its glory, as it +had received it, for the honor of God—but its own truth was +gone, and it sank forever. There was no wisdom nor strength +left in it, to raise it from the dust; and the error of zeal, and +the softness of luxury smote it down and dissolved it away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +It is good for us to remember this, as we tread upon the +bare ground of its foundations, and stumble over its scattered +stones. Those rent skeletons of pierced wall, through which +our sea-winds moan and murmur, strewing them joint by +joint, and bone by bone, along the bleak promontories on +which the Pharos lights came once from houses of prayer—those +grey arches and quiet isles under which the sheep of +our valleys feed and rest on the turf that has buried their +altars—those shapeless heaps, that are not of the Earth, which +lift our fields into strange and sudden banks of flowers, and +stay our mountain streams with stones that are not their own, +have other thoughts to ask from us than those of mourning +for the rage that despoiled, or the fear that forsook them. It +was not the robber, not the fanatic, not the blasphemer, who +sealed the destruction that they had wrought; the war, the +wrath, the terror, might have worked their worst, and the +strong walls would have risen, and the slight pillars would +have started again, from under the hand of the destroyer. +But they could not rise out of the ruins of their own violated +truth.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>THE LAMP OF POWER.</h3> + + +<p>I. In recalling the impressions we have received from the +works of man, after a lapse of time long enough to involve in +obscurity all but the most vivid, it often happens that we find +a strange pre-eminence and durability in many upon whose +strength we had little calculated, and that points of character +which had escaped the detection of the judgment, become developed +under the waste of memory; as veins of harder rock, +whose places could not at first have been discovered by the +eye, are left salient under the action of frosts and streams. +The traveller who desires to correct the errors of his judgment, +necessitated by inequalities of temper, infelicities of +circumstance, and accidents of association, has no other resource +than to wait for the calm verdict of interposing years; +and to watch for the new arrangements of eminence and shape<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +in the images which remain latest in his memory; as in the +ebbing of a mountain lake, he would watch the varying outlines +of its successive shore, and trace, in the form of its departing +waters, the true direction of the forces which had +cleft, or the currents which had excavated, the deepest recesses +of its primal bed.</p> + +<p>In thus reverting to the memories of those works of architecture +by which we have been most pleasurably impressed, it +will generally happen that they fall into two broad classes: +the one characterized by an exceeding preciousness and delicacy, +to which we recur with a sense of affectionate admiration; +and the other by a severe, and, in many cases, mysterious, +majesty, which we remember with an undiminished +awe, like that felt at the presence and operation of some great +Spiritual Power. From about these two groups, more or less +harmonised by intermediate examples, but always distinctively +marked by features of beauty or of power, there will be +swept away, in multitudes, the memories of buildings, perhaps, +in their first address to our minds, of no inferior pretension, +but owing their impressiveness to characters of less +enduring nobility—to value of material, accumulation of ornament, +or ingenuity of mechanical construction. Especial +interest may, indeed, have been awakened by such circumstances, +and the memory may have been, consequently, rendered +tenacious of particular parts or effects of the structure; +but it will recall even these only by an active effort, and then +without emotion; while in passive moments, and with thrilling +influence, the image of purer beauty, and of more spiritual +power, will return in a fair and solemn company; and +while the pride of many a stately palace, and the wealth of +many a jewelled shrine, perish from our thoughts in a dust of +gold, there will rise, through their dimness, the white image +of some secluded marble chapel, by river or forest side, with +the fretted flower-work shrinking under its arches, as if under +vaults of late-fallen snow; or the vast weariness of some shadowy +wall whose separate stones are like mountain foundations, +and yet numberless.</p> + +<p>II. Now, the difference between these two orders of build<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>-ing +is not merely that which there is in nature between things +beautiful and sublime. It is, also, the difference between +what is derivative and original in man's work; for whatever +is in architecture fair or beautiful, is imitated from natural +forms; and what is not so derived, but depends for its dignity +upon arrangement and government received from human +mind, becomes the expression of the power of that mind, and +receives a sublimity high in proportion to the power expressed. +All building, therefore, shows man either as gathering +or governing: and the secrets of his success are his +knowing what to gather, and how to rule. These are the two +great intellectual Lamps of Architecture; the one consisting +in a just and humble veneration for the works of God upon +the earth, and the other in an understanding of the dominion +over those works which has been vested in man.</p> + +<p>III. Besides this expression of living authority and power, +there is, however, a sympathy in the forms of noble building, +with what is most sublime in natural things; and it is the +governing Power directed by this sympathy, whose operation +I shall at present endeavor to trace, abandoning all inquiry +into the more abstract fields of invention: for this latter +faculty, and the questions of proportion and arrangement +connected with its discussion, can only be rightly examined +in a general view of all arts; but its sympathy, in architecture, +with the vast controlling powers of Nature herself, is special, +and may shortly be considered; and that with the more advantage, +that it has, of late, been little felt or regarded by +architects. I have seen, in recent efforts, much contest between +two schools, one affecting originality, and the other legality—many +attempts at beauty of design—many ingenious adaptations +of construction; but I have never seen any aim at the +expression of abstract power; never any appearance of a consciousness +that, in this primal art of man, there is room for +the marking of his relations with the mightiest, as well as the +fairest, works of God; and that those works themselves have +been permitted, by their Master and his, to receive an added +glory from their association with earnest efforts of human +thought. In the edifices of Man there should be found rever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>ent +worship and following, not only of the spirit which rounds +the pillars of the forest, and arches the vault of the avenue—which +gives veining to the leaf, and polish to the shell, and +grace to every pulse that agitates animal organization,—but +of that also which reproves the pillars of the earth, and builds +up her barren precipices into the coldness of the clouds, and +lifts her shadowy cones of mountain purple into the pale arch +of the sky; for these, and other glories more than these, refuse +not to connect themselves, in his thoughts, with the work +of his own hand; the grey cliff loses not its nobleness when it +reminds us of some Cyclopean waste of mural stone; the pinnacles +of the rocky promontory arrange themselves, undegraded, +into fantastic semblances of fortress towers; and even +the awful cone of the far-off mountain has a melancholy mixed +with that of its own solitude, which is cast from the images of +nameless tumuli on white sea-shores, and of the heaps of reedy +clay, into which chambered cities melt in their mortality.</p> + +<p>IV. Let us, then, see what is this power and majesty, which +Nature herself does not disdain to accept from the works of +man; and what that sublimity in the masses built up by his +coralline-like energy, which is honorable, even when transferred +by association to the dateless hills, which it needed +earthquakes to lift, and deluges to mould.</p> + +<p>And, first of mere size: It might not be thought possible +to emulate the sublimity of natural objects in this respect; nor +would it be, if the architect contended with them in pitched +battle. It would not be well to build pyramids in the valley +of Chamouni; and St. Peter's, among its many other errors, +counts for not the least injurious its position on the slope of +an inconsiderable hill. But imagine it placed on the plain of +Marengo, or, like the Superga of Turin, or like La Salute at +Venice! The fact is, that the apprehension of the size of natural +objects, as well as of architecture, depends more on fortunate +excitement of the imagination than on measurements +by the eye; and the architect has a peculiar advantage in being +able to press close upon the sight, such magnitude as he can +command. There are few rocks, even among the Alps, that +have a clear vertical fall as high as the choir of Beauvais; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +if we secure a good precipice of wall, or a sheer and unbroken +flank of tower, and place them where there are no enormous +natural features to oppose them, we shall feel in them no want +of sublimity of size. And it may be matter of encouragement +in this respect, though one also of regret, to observe how much +oftener man destroys natural sublimity, than nature crushes +human power. It does not need much to humiliate a mountain. +A hut will sometimes do it; I never look up to the Col +de Balme from Chamouni, without a violent feeling of provocation +against its hospitable little cabin, whose bright white +walls form a visibly four-square spot on the green ridge, and +entirely destroy all idea of its elevation. A single villa will +often mar a whole landscape, and dethrone a dynasty of hills, +and the Acropolis of Athens, Parthenon and all, has, I believe, +been dwarfed into a model by the palace lately built beneath +it. The fact is, that hills are not so high as we fancy them, +and, when to the actual impression of no mean comparative +size, is added the sense of the toil of manly hand and thought, +a sublimity is reached, which nothing but gross error in arrangement +of its parts can destroy.</p> + +<p>V. While, therefore, it is not to be supposed that mere size +will ennoble a mean design, yet every increase of magnitude +will bestow upon it a certain degree of nobleness: so that it +is well to determine at first, whether the building is to be +markedly beautiful or markedly sublime; and if the latter, +not to be withheld by respect to smaller parts from reaching +largeness of scale; provided only, that it be evidently in the +architect's power to reach at least that degree of magnitude +which is the lowest at which sublimity begins, rudely definable +as that which will make a living figure look less than life beside +it. It is the misfortune of most of our modern buildings +that we would fain have an universal excellence in them; and +so part of the funds must go in painting, part in gilding, part +in fitting up, part in painted windows, part in small steeples, +part in ornaments here and there; and neither the windows, +nor the steeple, nor the ornaments, are worth their materials. +For there is a crust about the impressible part of men's minds, +which must be pierced through before they can be touched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +to the quick; and though we may prick at it and scratch it +in a thousand separate places, we might as well have let it +alone if we do not come through somewhere with a deep +thrust: and if we can give such a thrust anywhere, there is +no need of another; it need not be even so "wide as a church +door," so that it be <i>enough</i>. And mere weight will do this; +it is a clumsy way of doing it, but an effectual one, too; and +the apathy which cannot be pierced through by a small steeple, +nor shone through by a small window, can be broken through +in a moment by the mere weight of a great wall. Let, therefore, +the architect who has not large resources, choose his +point of attack first, and, if he choose size, let him abandon +decoration; for, unless they are concentrated, and numerous +enough to make their concentration conspicuous, all his ornaments +together would not be worth one huge stone. And the +choice must be a decided one, without compromise. It must +be no question whether his capitals would not look better with +a little carving—let him leave them huge as blocks; or whether +his arches should not have richer architraves—let him throw +them a foot higher, if he can; a yard more across the nave +will be worth more to him than a tesselated pavement; and +another fathom of outer wall, than an army of pinnacles. The +limitation of size must be only in the uses of the building, or +in the ground at his disposal.</p> + +<p>VI. That limitation, however, being by such circumstances +determined, by what means, it is to be next asked, may the +actual magnitude be best displayed; since it is seldom, perhaps +never, that a building of any pretension to size looks so +large as it is. The appearance of a figure in any distant, more +especially in any upper, parts of it will almost always prove +that we have under-estimated the magnitude of those parts.</p> + +<p>It has often been observed that a building, in order to show +its magnitude, must be seen all at once. It would, perhaps, +be better to say, must be bounded as much as possible by +continuous lines, and that its extreme points should be seen +all at once; or we may state, in simpler terms still, that it +must have one visible bounding line from top to bottom, and +from end to end. This bounding line from top to bottom may<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +either be inclined inwards, and the mass, therefore, pyramidical; +or vertical, and the mass form one grand cliff; or inclined +outwards, as in the advancing fronts of old houses, and, +in a sort, in the Greek temple, and in all buildings with heavy +cornices or heads. Now, in all these cases, if the bounding +line be violently broken; if the cornice project, or the upper +portion of the pyramid recede, too violently, majesty will be +lost; not because the building cannot be seen all at once,—for +in the case of a heavy cornice no part of it is necessarily +concealed—but because the continuity of its terminal line is +broken, and the <i>length of that line</i>, therefore, cannot be estimated. +But the error is, of course, more fatal when much of +the building is also concealed; as in the well-known case of +the recession of the dome of St. Peter's, and, from the greater +number of points of view, in churches whose highest portions, +whether dome or tower, are over their cross. Thus there is +only one point from which the size of the Cathedral of Florence +is felt; and that is from the corner of the Via de' Balestrieri, +opposite the south-east angle, where it happens that the dome +is seen rising instantly above the apse and transepts. In all +cases in which the tower is over the cross, the grandeur and +height of the tower itself are lost, because there is but one line +down which the eye can trace the whole height, and that is in +the inner angle of the cross, not easily discerned. Hence, +while, in symmetry and feeling, such designs may often have +pre-eminence, yet, where the height of the tower itself is to +be made apparent, it must be at the west end, or better still, +detached as a campanile. Imagine the loss to the Lombard +churches if their campaniles were carried only to their present +height over their crosses; or to the Cathedral of Rouen, if the +Tour de Beurre were made central, in the place of its present +debased spire!</p> + +<p>VII. Whether, therefore, we have to do with tower or wall, +there must be one bounding line from base to coping; and I +am much inclined, myself, to love the true vertical, or the +vertical, with a solemn frown of projection (not a scowl), as +in the Palazzo Vecchio of Florence. This character is always +given to rocks by the poets; with slight foundation indeed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +real rocks being little given to overhanging—but with excellent +judgment; for the sense of threatening conveyed by this +form is a nobler character than that of mere size. And, in +buildings, this threatening should be somewhat carried down +into their mass. A mere projecting shelf is not enough, the +whole wall must, Jupiter like, nod as well as frown. Hence, +I think the propped machicolations of the Palazzo Vecchio +and Duomo of Florence far grander headings than any form +of Greek cornice. Sometimes the projection may be thrown +lower, as in the Doge's palace of Venice, where the chief appearance +of it is above the second arcade; or it may become +a grand swell from the ground, as the head of a ship of the +line rises from the sea. This is very nobly attained by the +projection of the niches in the third story of the Tour de +Beurre at Rouen.</p> + +<p>VIII. What is needful in the setting forth of magnitude in +height, is right also in the marking it in area—let it be gathered +well together. It is especially to be noted with respect +to the Palazzo Vecchio and other mighty buildings of its +order, how mistakenly it has been stated that dimension, in +order to become impressive, should be expanded either in +height or length, but not equally: whereas, rather it will be +found that those buildings seem on the whole the vastest +which have been gathered up into a mighty square, and which +look as if they had been measured by the angel's rod, "the +length, and the breadth, and the height of it are equal," and +herein something is to be taken notice of, which I believe +not to be sufficiently, if at all, considered among our architects.</p> + +<p>Of the many broad divisions under which architecture may +be considered, none appear to me more significant than that +into buildings whose interest is in their walls, and those +whose interest is in the lines dividing their walls. In the +Greek temple the wall is as nothing; the entire interest is in +the detached columns and the frieze they bear; in French +Flamboyant, and in our detestable Perpendicular, the object +is to get rid of the wall surface, and keep the eye altogether +on tracery of line; in Romanesque work and Egyptian, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +wall is a confessed and honored member, and the light is +often allowed to fall on large areas of it, variously decorated. +Now, both these principles are admitted by Nature, the one +in her woods and thickets, the other in her plains, and cliffs, +and waters; but the latter is pre-eminently the principle of +power, and, in some sense, of beauty also. For, whatever infinity +of fair form there may be in the maze of the forest, +there is a fairer, as I think, in the surface of the quiet lake; +and I hardly know that association of shaft or tracery, for +which I would exchange the warm sleep of sunshine on some +smooth, broad, human-like front of marble. Nevertheless, if +breadth is to be beautiful, its substance must in some sort be +beautiful; and we must not hastily condemn the exclusive +resting of the northern architects in divided lines, until at +least we have remembered the difference between a blank +surface of Caen stone, and one mixed from Genoa and Carrara, +of serpentine with snow: but as regards abstract power +and awfulness, there is no question; without breadth of surface +it is in vain to seek them, and it matters little, so that the +surface be wide, bold and unbroken, whether it be of brick or +of jasper; the light of heaven upon it, and the weight of earth +in it, are all we need: for it is singular how forgetful the mind +may become both of material and workmanship, if only it have +space enough over which to range, and to remind it, however +feebly, of the joy that it has in contemplating the flatness +and sweep of great plains and broad seas. And it is a noble +thing for men to do this with their cut stone or moulded +clay, and to make the face of a wall look infinite, and its edge +against the sky like an horizon: or even if less than this be +reached, it is still delightful to mark the play of passing light +on its broad surface, and to see by how many artifices and +gradations of tinting and shadow, time and storm will set +their wild signatures upon it; and how in the rising or declining +of the day the unbroken twilight rests long and luridly +on its high lineless forehead, and fades away untraceably +down its tiers of confused and countless stone.</p> + +<p>IX. This, then, being, as I think, one of the peculiar elements +of sublime architecture, it may be easily seen how neces<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>sarily +consequent upon the love of it will be the choice of a +form approaching to the square for the main outline.</p> + +<p>For, in whatever direction the building is contracted, in +that direction the eye will be drawn to its terminal lines; and +the sense of surface will only be at its fullest when those lines +are removed, in every direction, as far as possible. Thus the +square and circle are pre-eminently the areas of power among +those bounded by purely straight or curved lines; and these, +with their relative solids, the cube and sphere, and relative +solids of progression (as in the investigation of the laws of +proportion I shall call those masses which are generated by +the progression of an area of given form along a line in a +given direction), the square and cylindrical column, are the +elements of utmost power in all architectural arrangements. +On the other hand, grace and perfect proportion require an +elongation in some one direction: and a sense of power may +be communicated to this form of magnitude by a continuous +series of any marked features, such as the eye may be unable +to number; while yet we feel, from their boldness, decision, +and simplicity, that it is indeed their multitude which has +embarrassed us, not any confusion or indistinctness of form. +This expedient of continued series forms the sublimity of +arcades and aisles, of all ranges of columns, and, on a smaller +scale, of those Greek mouldings, of which, repeated as they +now are in all the meanest and most familiar forms of our furniture, +it is impossible altogether to weary. Now, it is evident +that the architect has choice of two types of form, each +properly associated with its own kind of interest or decoration: +the square, or greatest area, to be chosen especially +when the <i>surface</i> is to be the subject of thought; and the +elongated area, when the <i>divisions</i> of the surface are to be the +subjects of thought. Both these orders of form, as I think +nearly every other source of power and beauty, are marvellously +united in that building which I fear to weary the reader +by bringing forward too frequently, as a model of all perfection—the +Doge's palace at Venice: its general arrangement, +a hollow square; its principal façade, an oblong, elongated to +the eye by a range of thirty-four small arches, and thirty-five<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +columns, while it is separated by a richly-canopied window in +the centre, into two massive divisions, whose height and length +are nearly as four to five; the arcades which give it length +being confined to the lower stories, and the upper, between +its broad windows, left a mighty surface of smooth marble, +chequered with blocks of alternate rose-color and white. It +would be impossible, I believe, to invent a more magnificent +arrangement of all that is in building most dignified and most +fair.</p> + +<p>X. In the Lombard Romanesque, the two principles are +more fused into each other, as most characteristically in the +Cathedral of Pisa: length of proportion, exhibited by an arcade +of twenty-one arches above, and fifteen below, at the side +of the nave; bold square proportion in the front; that front +divided into arcades, placed one above the other, the lowest +with its pillars engaged, of seven arches, the four uppermost +thrown out boldly from the receding wall, and casting deep +shadows; the first, above the basement, of nineteen arches; +the second of twenty-one; the third and fourth of eight each; +sixty-three arches in all; all <i>circular</i> headed, all with cylindrical +shafts, and the lowest with <i>square</i> panellings, set diagonally +under their semicircles, an universal ornament in this +style (Plate XII., fig. 7); the apse, a semicircle, with a semi-dome +for its roof, and three ranges of circular arches for its +exterior ornament; in the interior of the nave, a range of +circular arches below a circular-arched triforium, and a vast +flat <i>surface</i>, observe, of wall decorated with striped marble +above; the whole arrangement (not a peculiar one, but characteristic +of every church of the period; and, to my feeling, +the most majestic; not perhaps the fairest, but the mightiest +type of form which the mind of man has ever conceived) +based exclusively on associations of the circle and the square.</p> + +<p>I am now, however, trenching upon ground which I desire +to reserve for more careful examination, in connection with +other æsthetic questions: but I believe the examples I have +given will justify my vindication of the square form from the +reprobation which has been lightly thrown upon it; nor might +this be done for it only as a ruling outline, but as occurring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +constantly in the best mosaics, and in a thousand forms of +minor decoration, which I cannot now examine; my chief +assertion of its majesty being always as it is an exponent of +space and surface, and therefore to be chosen, either to rule in +their outlines, or to adorn by masses of light and shade those +portions of buildings in which surface is to be rendered precious +or honorable.</p> + +<p>XI. Thus far, then, of general forms, and of the modes in +which the scale of architecture is best to be exhibited. Let +us next consider the manifestations of power which belong to +its details and lesser divisions.</p> + +<p>The first division we have to regard, is the inevitable one +of masonry. It is true that this division may, by great art, be +concealed; but I think it unwise (as well as dishonest) to do +so; for this reason, that there is a very noble character always +to be obtained by the opposition of large stones to divided +masonry, as by shafts and columns of one piece, or massy +lintels and architraves, to wall work of bricks or smaller stones; +and there is a certain organization in the management of such +parts, like that of the continuous bones of the skeleton, opposed +to the vertebræ, which it is not well to surrender. I +hold, therefore, that, for this and other reasons, the masonry +of a building is to be shown: and also that, with certain rare +exceptions (as in the cases of chapels and shrines of most finished +workmanship), the smaller the building, the more necessary +it is that its masonry should be bold, and <i>vice versâ</i>. +For if a building be under the mark of average magnitude, it +is not in our power to increase its apparent size (too easily +measurable) by any proportionate diminution in the scale of +its masonry. But it may be often in our power to give it a +certain nobility by building it of massy stones, or, at all events, +introducing such into its make. Thus it is impossible that +there should ever be majesty in a cottage built of brick; but +there is a marked element of sublimity in the rude and irregular +piling of the rocky walls of the mountain cottages of +Wales, Cumberland, and Scotland. Their size is not one whit +diminished, though four or five stones reach at their angles +from the ground to the eaves, or though a native rock happen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +to project conveniently, and to be built into the framework of +the wall. On the other hand, after a building has once reached +the mark of majestic size, it matters, indeed, comparatively +little whether its masonry be large or small, but if it be altogether +large, it will sometimes diminish the magnitude for +want of a measure; if altogether small, it will suggest ideas +of poverty in material, or deficiency in mechanical resource, +besides interfering in many cases with the lines of the design, +and delicacy of the workmanship. A very unhappy instance +of such interference exists in the façade of the church of St. +Madeleine at Paris, where the columns, being built of very +small stones of nearly equal size, with visible joints, look as if +they were covered with a close trellis. So, then, that masonry +will be generally the most magnificent which, without the use +of materials systematically small or large, accommodates itself, +naturally and frankly, to the conditions and structure of its +work, and displays alike its power of dealing with the vastest +masses, and of accomplishing its purpose with the smallest, +sometimes heaping rock upon rock with Titanic commandment, +and anon binding the dusty remnants and edgy splinters into +springing vaults and swelling domes. And if the nobility of this +confessed and natural masonry were more commonly felt, we +should not lose the dignity of it by smoothing surfaces and +fitting joints. The sums which we waste in chiselling and +polishing stones which would have been better left as they +came from the quarry would often raise a building a story +higher. Only in this there is to be a certain respect for +material also: for if we build in marble, or in any limestone, +the known ease of the workmanship will make its absence +seem slovenly; it will be well to take advantage of the stone's +softness, and to make the design delicate and dependent upon +smoothness of chiselled surfaces: but if we build in granite +or lava, it is a folly, in most cases, to cast away the labor +necessary to smooth it; it is wiser to make the design granitic +itself, and to leave the blocks rudely squared. I do not deny +a certain splendor and sense of power in the smoothing of +granite, and in the entire subduing of its iron resistance to +the human supremacy. But, in most cases, I believe, the labor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +and time necessary to do this would be better spent in another +way; and that to raise a building to a height of a hundred +feet with rough blocks, is better than to raise it to seventy +with smooth ones. There is also a magnificence in the natural +cleavage of the stone to which the art must indeed be great +that pretends to be equivalent; and a stern expression of +brotherhood with the mountain heart from which it has been +rent, ill-exchanged for a glistering obedience to the rule and +measure of men. His eye must be delicate indeed, who would +desire to see the Pitti palace polished.</p> + +<p>XII. Next to those of the masonry, we have to consider +the divisions of the design itself. Those divisions are, necessarily, +either into masses of light and shade, or else by traced +lines; which latter must be, indeed, themselves produced by +incisions or projections which, in some lights, cast a certain +breadth of shade, but which may, nevertheless, if finely enough +cut, be always true lines, in distant effect. I call, for instance, +such panelling as that of Henry the Seventh's chapel, pure +linear division.</p> + +<p>Now, it does not seem to me sufficiently recollected, that a +wall surface is to an architect simply what a white canvas is to +a painter, with this only difference, that the wall has already a +sublimity in its height, substance, and other characters already +considered, on which it is more dangerous to break than to +touch with shade the canvas surface. And, for my own part, +I think a smooth, broad, freshly laid surface of gesso a fairer +thing than most pictures I see painted on it; much more, a +noble surface of stone than most architectural features which +it is caused to assume. But however this may be, the canvas +and wall are supposed to be given, and it is our craft to divide +them.</p> + +<p>And the principles on which this division is to be made, are +as regards relation of quantities, the same in architecture as +in painting, or indeed, in any other art whatsoever, only the +painter is by his varied subject partly permitted, partly compelled, +to dispense with the symmetry of architectural light +and shade, and to adopt arrangements apparently free and +accidental. So that in modes of grouping there is much dif<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>ference +(though no opposition) between the two arts; but in +rules of quantity, both are alike, so far forth as their commands +of means are alike. For the architect, not being able +to secure always the same depth or decision of shadow, nor +to add to its sadness by color (because even when color is +employed, it cannot follow the moving shade), is compelled +to make many allowances, and avail himself of many contrivances, +which the painter needs neither consider nor +employ.</p> + +<p>XIII. Of these limitations the first consequence is, that +positive shade is a more necessary and more sublime thing in +an architect's hands than in a painter's. For the latter being +able to temper his light with an under-tone throughout, and +to make it delightful with sweet color, or awful with lurid +color, and to represent distance, and air, and sun, by the +depth of it, and fill its whole space with expression, can deal +with an enormous, nay, almost with an universal extent of it, +and the best painters most delight in such extent; but as +light, with the architect, is nearly always liable to become full +and untempered sunshine seen upon solid surface, his only +rests, and his chief means of sublimity, are definite shades. +So that, after size and weight, the Power of architecture may +be said to depend on the quantity (whether measured in space +or intenseness) of its shadow; and it seems to me, that the +reality of its works, and the use and influence they have in the +daily life of men (as opposed to those works of art with which +we have nothing to do but in times of rest or of pleasure) +require of it that it should express a kind of human sympathy, +by a measure of darkness as great as there is in human life: +and that as the great poem and great fiction generally affect +us most by the majesty of their masses of shade, and cannot +take hold upon us if they affect a continuance of lyric sprightliness, +but must be serious often, and sometimes melancholy, +else they do not express the truth of this wild world of ours; +so there must be, in this magnificently human art of architecture, +some equivalent expression for the trouble and wrath +of life, for its sorrow and its mystery: and this it can only +give by depth or diffusion of gloom, by the frown upon its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +front, and the shadow of its recess. So that Rembrandtism +is a noble manner in architecture, though a false one in painting; +and I do not believe that ever any building was truly +great, unless it had mighty masses, vigorous and deep, of +shadow mingled with its surface. And among the first habits +that a young architect should learn, is that of thinking in +shadow, not looking at a design in its miserable liny skeleton; +but conceiving it as it will be when the dawn lights it, and +the dusk leaves it; when its stones will be hot and its crannies +cool; when the lizards will bask on the one, and the +birds build in the other. Let him design with the sense of +cold and heat upon him; let him cut out the shadows, as men +dig wells in unwatered plains; and lead along the lights, as a +founder does his hot metal; let him keep the full command of +both, and see that he knows how they fall, and where they fade. +His paper lines and proportions are of no value: all that he +has to do must be done by spaces of light and darkness; and +his business is to see that the one is broad and bold enough +not to be swallowed up by twilight, and the other deep enough +not to be dried like a shallow pool by a noon-day sun.</p> + +<p>And that this may be, the first necessity is that the quantities +of shade or light, whatever they may be, shall be thrown +into masses, either of something like equal weight, or else +large masses of the one relieved with small of the other; but +masses of one or other kind there must be. No design that +is divided at all, and is not divided into masses, can ever be +of the smallest value: this great law respecting breadth, precisely +the same in architecture and painting, is so important, +that the examination of its two principal applications will +include most of the conditions of majestic design on which I +would at present insist.</p> + +<p>XIV. Painters are in the habit of speaking loosely of masses +of light and shade, meaning thereby any large spaces of +either. Nevertheless, it is convenient sometimes to restrict +the term "mass" to the portions to which proper form belongs, +and to call the field on which such forms are traced, +interval. Thus, in foliage with projecting boughs or stems, +we have masses of light, with intervals of shade; and, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +light skies with dark clouds upon them, masses of shade with +intervals of light.</p> + +<p>This distinction is, in architecture, still more necessary; +for there are two marked styles dependent upon it: one in +which the forms are drawn with light upon darkness, as in +Greek sculpture and pillars; the other in which they are +drawn with darkness upon light, as in early Gothic foliation. +Now, it is not in the designer's power determinately to vary +degrees and places of darkness, but it is altogether in his +power to vary in determined directions his degrees of light. +Hence, the use of the dark mass characterises, generally, a +trenchant style of design, in which the darks and lights are +both flat, and terminated by sharp edges; while the use of +the light mass is in the same way associated with a softened +and full manner of design, in which the darks are much +warmed by reflected lights, and the lights are rounded and +melt into them. The term applied by Milton to Doric bas-relief—"bossy," +is, as is generally the case with Milton's +epithets, the most comprehensive and expressive of this manner, +which the English language contains; while the term +which specifically describes the chief member of early Gothic +decoration, feuille, foil or leaf, is equally significative of a +flat space of shade.</p> + +<p>XV. We shall shortly consider the actual modes in which +these two kinds of mass have been treated. And, first, of the +light, or rounded, mass. The modes in which relief was secured +for the more projecting forms of bas-relief, by the +Greeks, have been too well described by Mr. Eastlake<a name="FNanchor_I_9" id="FNanchor_I_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_I_9" class="fnanchor">[I]</a> to need +recapitulation: the conclusion which forces itself upon us from +the facts he has remarked, being one on which I shall have occasion +farther to insist presently, that the Greek workman cared +for shadow only as a dark field wherefrom his light figure or design +might be intelligibly detached: his attention was concentrated +on the one aim at readableness, and clearness of accent; +and all composition, all harmony, nay, the very vitality and +energy of separate groups were, when necessary, sacrificed to +plain speaking. Nor was there any predilection for one kind +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>of form rather than another. Bounded forms were, in the +columns and principal decorative members, adopted, not for +their own sake, but as characteristic of the things represented. +They were beautifully rounded, because the Greek habitually +did well what he had to do, not because he loved roundness +more than squareness; severely rectilinear forms were associated +with the curved ones in the cornice and triglyph, and the +mass of the pillar was divided by a fluting, which, in distant +effect, destroyed much of its breadth. What power of light +these primal arrangements left, was diminished in successive +refinements and additions of ornament; and continued to diminish +through Roman work, until the confirmation of the +circular arch as a decorative feature. Its lovely and simple +line taught the eye to ask for a similar boundary of solid form; +the dome followed, and necessarily the decorative masses were +thenceforward managed with reference to, and in sympathy +with, the chief feature of the building. Hence arose, among +the Byzantine architects, a system of ornament, entirely restrained +within the superfices of curvilinear masses, on which +the light fell with as unbroken gradation as on a dome or column, +while the illumined surface was nevertheless cut into +details of singular and most ingenious intricacy. Something +is, of course, to be allowed for the less dexterity of the workmen; +it being easier to cut down into a solid block, than to +arrange the projecting portions of leaf on the Greek capital: +such leafy capitals are nevertheless executed by the Byzantines +with skill enough to show that their preference of the massive +form was by no means compulsory, nor can I think it unwise. +On the contrary, while the arrangements of <i>line</i> are far more +artful in the Greek capital, the Byzantine light and shade are +as incontestably more grand and masculine, based on that +quality of pure gradation, which nearly all natural objects +possess, and the attainment of which is, in fact, the first and +most palpable purpose in natural arrangements of grand form. +The rolling heap of the thunder-cloud, divided by rents, and +multiplied by wreaths, yet gathering them all into its broad, +torrid, and towering zone, and its midnight darkness opposite; +the scarcely less majestic heave of the mountain side, all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +torn and traversed by depth of defile and ridge of rock, yet +never losing the unity of its illumined swell and shadowy decline; +and the head of every mighty tree, rich with tracery of +leaf and bough, yet terminated against the sky by a true line, +and rounded by a green horizon, which, multiplied in the distant +forest, makes it look bossy from above; all these mark, +for a great and honored law, that diffusion of light for which +the Byzantine ornaments were designed; and show us that +those builders had truer sympathy with what God made majestic, +than the self-contemplating and self-contented Greek. I +know that they are barbaric in comparison; but there is a +power in their barbarism of sterner tone, a power not sophistic +nor penetrative, but embracing and mysterious; a power faithful +more than thoughtful, which conceived and felt more than +it created; a power that neither comprehended nor ruled itself, +but worked and wandered as it listed, like mountain +streams and winds; and which could not rest in the expression +or seizure of finite form. It could not bury itself in acanthus +leaves. Its imagery was taken from the shadows of the storms +and hills, and had fellowship with the night and day of the +earth itself.</p> + +<p>XVI. I have endeavored to give some idea of one of the +hollow balls of stone which, surrounded by flowing leafage, +occur in varied succession on the architrave of the central +gate of St. Mark's at Venice, in Plate I. fig. 2. It seems to +me singularly beautiful in its unity of lightness, and delicacy +of detail, with breadth of light. It looks as if its leaves had +been sensitive, and had risen and shut themselves into a bud +at some sudden touch, and would presently fall back again +into their wild flow. The cornices of San Michele of Lucca, +seen above and below the arch, in Plate VI., show the effect +of heavy leafage and thick stems arranged on a surface whose +curve is a simple quadrant, the light dying from off them as +it turns. It would be difficult, as I think, to invent anything +more noble; and I insist on the broad character of their arrangement +the more earnestly, because, afterwards modified +by greater skill in its management, it became characteristic of +the richest pieces of Gothic design. The capital, given in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +Plate V., is of the noblest period of the Venetian Gothic; and +it is interesting to see the play of leafage so luxuriant, absolutely +subordinated to the breadth of two masses of light and +shade. What is done by the Venetian architect, with a power +as irresistible as that of the waves of his surrounding sea, is +done by the masters of the Cis-Alpine Gothic, more timidly, +and with a manner somewhat cramped and cold, but not less +expressing their assent to the same great law. The ice spiculæ +of the North, and its broken sunshine, seem to have +image in, and influence on the work; and the leaves which, +under the Italian's hand, roll, and flow, and bow down over +their black shadows, as in the weariness of noon-day heat, are, +in the North, crisped and frost-bitten, wrinkled on the edges, +and sparkling as if with dew. But the rounding of the ruling +form is not less sought and felt. In the lower part of Plate I. +is the finial of the pediment given in Plate II., from the cathedral +of St. Lo. It is exactly similar in feeling to the Byzantine +capital, being rounded under the abacus by four branches +of thistle leaves, whose stems, springing from the angles, bend +outwards and fall back to the head, throwing their jaggy +spines down upon the full light, forming two sharp quatre-foils. +I could not get near enough to this finial to see with +what degree of delicacy the spines were cut; but I have +sketched a natural group of thistle-leaves beside it, that the +reader may compare the types, and see with what mastery +they are subjected to the broad form of the whole. The small +capital from Coutances, Plate XIII. fig. 4, which is of earlier +date, is of simpler elements, and exhibits the principle still +more clearly; but the St. Lo finial is only one of a thousand +instances which might be gathered even from the fully developed +flamboyant, the feeling of breadth being retained in +minor ornaments long after it had been lost in the main design, +and sometimes capriciously renewing itself throughout, +as in the cylindrical niches and pedestals which enrich the +porches of Caudebec and Rouen. Fig. 1, Plate I. is the simplest +of those of Rouen; in the more elaborate there are four +projecting sides, divided by buttresses into eight rounded +compartments of tracery; even the whole bulk of the outer +pier is treated with the same feeling; and though composed +partly of concave recesses, partly of square shafts, partly of +statues and tabernacle work, arranges itself as a whole into +one richly rounded tower.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 764px;"> +<img src="images/i103.png" width="764" height="1126" alt="PLATE V." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE V.—(Page 88—Vol. V.)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Capital from the Lower Arcade of the Doge's Palace, Venice.</span></span> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>XVII. I cannot here enter into the curious questions connected +with the management of larger curved surfaces; into +the causes of the difference in proportion necessary to be +observed between round and square towers; nor into the +reasons why a column or ball may be richly ornamented, +while surface decorations would be inexpedient on masses +like the Castle of St. Angelo, the tomb of Cecilia Metella, or +the dome of St. Peter's. But what has been above said of the +desireableness of serenity in plane surfaces, applies still more +forcibly to those which are curved; and it is to be remembered +that we are, at present, considering how this serenity +and power may be carried into minor divisions, not how the +ornamental character of the lower form may, upon occasion, +be permitted to fret the calmness of the higher. Nor, though +the instances we have examined are of globular or cylindrical +masses chiefly, is it to be thought that breadth can only be +secured by such alone: many of the noblest forms are of subdued +curvature, sometimes hardly visible; but curvature of +some degree there must be, in order to secure any measure +of grandeur in a small mass of light. One of the most +marked distinctions between one artist and another, in the +point of skill, will be found in their relative delicacy of perception +of rounded surface; the full power of expressing the +perspective, foreshortening and various undulation of such +surface is, perhaps, the last and most difficult attainment of +the hand and eye. For instance: there is, perhaps, no tree +which has baffled the landscape painter more than the common +black spruce fir. It is rare that we see any representation +of it other than caricature. It is conceived as if it grew +in one plane, or as a section of a tree, with a set of boughs +symmetrically dependent on opposite sides. It is thought +formal, unmanageable, and ugly. It would be so, if it grew +as it is drawn. But the power of the tree is not in that +chandelier-like section. It is in the dark, flat, solid tables of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +leafage, which it holds out on its strong arms, curved slightly +over them like shields, and spreading towards the extremity +like a hand. It is vain to endeavor to paint the sharp, grassy, +intricate leafage, until this ruling form has been secured; +and in the boughs that approach the spectator, the foreshortening +of it is like that of a wide hill country, ridge just rising +over ridge in successive distances; and the finger-like extremities, +foreshortened to absolute bluntness, require a delicacy +in the rendering of them like that of the drawing of the +hand of the Magdalene upon the vase in Mr. Rogers's Titian. +Get but the back of that foliage, and you have the tree; but +I cannot name the artist who has thoroughly felt it. So, in +all drawing and sculpture, it is the power of rounding, softly +and perfectly, every inferior mass which preserves the serenity, +as it follows the truth, of Nature, and which demands the +highest knowledge and skill from the workman. A noble design +may always be told by the back of a single leaf, and it +was the sacrifice of this breadth and refinement of surface for +sharp edges and extravagant undercutting, which destroyed +the Gothic mouldings, as the substitution of the line for the +light destroyed the Gothic tracery. This change, however, +we shall better comprehend after we have glanced at the chief +conditions of arrangement of the second kind of mass; that +which is flat, and of shadow only.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 762px;"> +<img src="images/i107.png" width="762" height="1127" alt="PLATE VI." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE VI.—(Page 90—Vol. V.)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Arch from the Façade of the Church of San Michele at Lucca.</span></span> +</div> + +<p>XVIII. We have noted above how the wall surface, composed +of rich materials, and covered with costly work, in +modes which we shall examine in the next Chapter, became a +subject of peculiar interest to the Christian architects. Its +broad flat lights could only be made valuable by points or +masses of energetic shadow, which were obtained by the Romanesque +architect by means of ranges of recessed arcade, in +the management of which, however, though all the effect depends +upon the shadow so obtained, the eye is still, as in +classical architecture, caused to dwell upon the projecting columns, +capitals, and wall, as in Plate VI. But with the enlargement +of the window, which, in the Lombard and Romanesque +churches, is usually little more than an arched slit, came the +conception of the simpler mode of decoration, by penetrations +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +which, seen from within, are forms of light, and, from without, +are forms of shade. In Italian traceries the eye is exclusively +fixed upon the dark forms of the penetrations, and the whole +proportion and power of the design are caused to depend +upon them. The intermediate spaces are, indeed, in the most +perfect early examples, filled with elaborate ornament; but +this ornament was so subdued as never to disturb the simplicity +and force of the dark masses; and in many instances is entirely +wanting. The composition of the whole depends on the +proportioning and shaping of the darks; and it is impossible +that anything can be more exquisite than their placing in the +head window of the Giotto campanile, Plate IX., or the church +of Or San Michele. So entirely does the effect depend upon +them, that it is quite useless to draw Italian tracery in outline; +if with any intention of rendering its effect, it is better +to mark the black spots, and let the rest alone. Of course, +when it is desired to obtain an accurate rendering of the design, +its lines and mouldings are enough; but it often happens +that works on architecture are of little use, because they +afford the reader no means of judging of the effective intention +of the arrangements which they state. No person, looking +at an architectural drawing of the richly foliaged cusps +and intervals of Or San Michele, would understand that all +this sculpture was extraneous, was a mere added grace, and +had nothing to do with the real anatomy of the work, and +that by a few bold cuttings through a slab of stone he might +reach the main effect of it all at once. I have, therefore, in +the plate of the design of Giotto, endeavored especially to +mark these points of <i>purpose</i>; there, as in every other instance, +black shadows of a graceful form lying on the white +surface of the stone, like dark leaves laid upon snow. Hence, +as before observed, the universal name of foil applied to such +ornaments.</p> + +<p>XIX. In order to the obtaining their full effect, it is evident +that much caution is necessary in the management of the +glass. In the finest instances, the traceries are open lights, +either in towers, as in this design of Giotto's or in external +arcades like that of the Campo Santo at Pisa or the Doge's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +palace at Venice; and it is thus only that their full beauty is +shown. In domestic buildings, or in windows of churches +necessarily glazed, the glass was usually withdrawn entirely +behind the traceries. Those of the Cathedral of Florence +stand quite clear of it, casting their shadows in well detached +lines, so as in most lights to give the appearance of a double +tracery. In those few instances in which the glass was set in +the tracery itself, as in Or San Michele, the effect of the latter +is half destroyed: perhaps the especial attention paid by +Orgagna to his surface ornament, was connected with the intention +of so glazing them. It is singular to see, in late architecture, +the glass, which tormented the older architects, considered +as a valuable means of making the lines of tracery more +slender; as in the smallest intervals of the windows of Merton +College, Oxford, where the glass is advanced about two inches +from the centre of the tracery bar (that in the larger spaces +being in the middle, as usual), in order to prevent the depth +of shadow from farther diminishing the apparent interval. +Much of the lightness of the effect of the traceries is owing +to this seemingly unimportant arrangement. But, generally +speaking, glass spoils all traceries; and it is much to be +wished that it should be kept well within them, when it cannot +be dispensed with, and that the most careful and beautiful +designs should be reserved for situations where no glass +would be needed.</p> + +<p>XX. The method of decoration by shadow was, as far as +we have hitherto traced it, common to the northern and southern +Gothic. But in the carrying out of the system they instantly +diverged. Having marble at his command, and classical +decoration in his sight, the southern architect was able to +carve the intermediate spaces with exquisite leafage, or to vary +his wall surface with inlaid stones. The northern architect +neither knew the ancient work, nor possessed the delicate +material; and he had no resource but to cover his walls with +holes, cut into foiled shapes like those of the windows. This +he did, often with great clumsiness, but always with a vigorous +sense of composition, and always, observe, depending on +the <i>shadows</i> for effect. Where the wall was thick and could +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +not be cut through, and the foilings were large, those shadows +did not fill the entire space; but the form was, nevertheless, +drawn on the eye by means of them, and when it was possible, +they were cut clear through, as in raised screens of pediment, +like those on the west front of Bayeux; cut so deep in every +case, as to secure, in all but a direct low front light, great +breadth of shadow.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 688px;"> +<img src="images/i111.png" width="688" height="1173" alt="PLATE VII." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE VII.—(Page 93—Vol. V.)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Pierced Ornaments from Lisieux, Bayeux, Verona, and Padua.</span></span> +</div> + +<p>The spandril, given at the top of Plate VII., is from the +southwestern entrance of the Cathedral of Lisieux; one of +the most quaint and interesting doors in Normandy, probably +soon to be lost forever, by the continuance of the masonic +operations which have already destroyed the northern tower. +Its work is altogether rude, but full of spirit; the opposite +spandrils have different, though balanced, ornaments very inaccurately +adjusted, each rosette or star (as the five-rayed figure, +now quite defaced, in the upper portion appears to have +been) cut on its own block of stone and fitted in with small +nicety, especially illustrating the point I have above insisted +upon—the architect's utter neglect of the forms of intermediate +stone, at this early period.</p> + +<p>The arcade, of which a single arch and shaft are given on +the left, forms the flank of the door; three outer shafts bearing +three orders within the spandril which I have drawn, and +each of these shafts carried over an inner arcade, decorated +above with quatre-foils, cut concave and filled with leaves, the +whole disposition exquisitely picturesque and full of strange +play of light and shade.</p> + +<p>For some time the penetrative ornaments, if so they may +be for convenience called, maintained their bold and independent +character. Then they multiplied and enlarged, becoming +shallower as they did so; then they began to run together, +one swallowing up, or hanging on to, another, like +bubbles in expiring foam—fig. 4, from a spandril at Bayeux, +looks as if it had been blown from a pipe; finally, they lost +their individual character altogether, and the eye was made +to rest on the separating lines of tracery, as we saw before in +the window; and then came the great change and the fall of +the Gothic power.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>XXI. Figs. 2 and 3, the one a quadrant of the star window +of the little chapel close to St. Anastasia at Verona, and the +other a very singular example from the church of the Eremitani +at Padua, compared with fig. 5, one of the ornaments of +the transept towers of Rouen, show the closely correspondent +conditions of the early Northern and Southern Gothic.<a href="#NOTE_X" class="fnanchor">10</a> +But, as we have said, the Italian architects, not being embarrassed +for decoration of wall surface, and not being obliged, +like the Northmen, to multiply their penetrations, held to the +system for some time longer; and while they increased the +refinement of the ornament, kept the purity of the plan. +That refinement of ornament was their weak point, however, +and opened the way for the renaissance attack. They fell, +like the old Romans, by their luxury, except in the separate +instance of the magnificent school of Venice. That architecture +began with the luxuriance in which all others expired: +it founded itself on the Byzantine mosaic and fretwork; and +laying aside its ornaments, one by one, while it fixed its forms +by laws more and more severe, stood forth, at last, a model +of domestic Gothic, so grand, so complete, so nobly systematised, +that, to my mind, there never existed an architecture +with so stern a claim to our reverence. I do not except even +the Greek Doric; the Doric had cast nothing away; the fourteenth +century Venetian had cast away, one by one, for a succession +of centuries, every splendor that art and wealth could +give it. It had laid down its crown and its jewels, its gold +and its color, like a king disrobing; it had resigned its exertion, +like an athlete reposing; once capricious and fantastic, +it had bound itself by laws inviolable and serene as those of +nature herself. It retained nothing but its beauty and its +power; both the highest, but both restrained. The Doric +flutings were of irregular number—the Venetian mouldings +were unchangeable. The Doric manner of ornament admitted +no temptation, it was the fasting of an anchorite—the +Venetian ornament embraced, while it governed, all vegetable +and animal forms; it was the temperance of a man, the command +of Adam over creation. I do not know so magnificent +a marking of human authority as the iron grasp of the Venetian +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +over his own exuberance of imagination; the calm and +solemn restraint with which, his mind filled with thoughts of +flowing leafage and fiery life, he gives those thoughts expression +for an instant, and then withdraws within those massy +bars and level cusps of stone.<a href="#NOTE_XI" class="fnanchor">11</a></p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 619px;"> +<img src="images/i115.png" width="619" height="1004" alt="PLATE VIII." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE VIII.—(Page 95—Vol. V.)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Window from the Ca' Foscari, Venice.</span></span> +</div> + +<p>And his power to do this depended altogether on his retaining +the forms of the shadows in his sight. Far from carrying +the eye to the ornaments, upon the stone, he abandoned +these latter one by one; and while his mouldings received +the most shapely order and symmetry, closely correspondent +with that of the Rouen tracery, compare Plates III. and VIII., +he kept the cusps within them perfectly flat, decorated, if at +all, with a trefoil (Palazzo Foscari), or fillet (Doge's Palace) +just traceable and no more, so that the quatrefoil, cut as +sharply through them as if it had been struck out by a stamp, +told upon the eye, with all its four black leaves, miles away. +No knots of flowerwork, no ornaments of any kind, were suffered +to interfere with the purity of its form: the cusp is +usually quite sharp; but slightly truncated in the Palazzo +Foscari, and charged with a simple ball in that of the Doge; +and the glass of the window, where there was any, was, as +we have seen, thrown back behind the stone-work, that no +flashes of light might interfere with its depth. Corrupted +forms, like those of the Casa d'Oro and Palazzo Pisani, and +several others, only serve to show the majesty of the common +design.</p> + +<p>XXII. Such are the principal circumstances traceable in the +treatment of the two kinds of masses of light and darkness, +in the hands of the earlier architects; gradation in the one, +flatness in the other, and breadth in both, being the qualities +sought and exhibited by every possible expedient, up to the +period when, as we have before stated, the line was substituted +for the mass, as the means of division of surface. Enough +has been said to illustrate this, as regards tracery; but a word +or two is still necessary respecting the mouldings.</p> + +<p>Those of the earlier times were, in the plurality of instances, +composed of alternate square and cylindrical shafts, variously +associated and proportioned. Where concave cuttings occur,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +as in the beautiful west doors of Bayeux, they are between +cylindrical shafts, which they throw out into broad light. The +eye in all cases dwells on broad surfaces, and commonly upon +few. In course of time, a low ridgy process is seen emerging +along the outer edge of the cylindrical shaft, forming a line of +light upon it and destroying its gradation. Hardly traceable +at first (as on the alternate rolls of the north door of Rouen), +it grows and pushes out as gradually as a stag's horns: sharp +at first on the edge; but, becoming prominent, it receives a +truncation, and becomes a definite fillet on the face of the roll. +Not yet to be checked, it pushes forward until the roll itself becomes +subordinate to it, and is finally lost in a slight swell upon +its sides, while the concavities have all the time been deepening +and enlarging behind it, until, from a succession of square +or cylindrical masses, the whole moulding has become a series +of <i>concavities</i> edged by delicate fillets, upon which (sharp <i>lines</i> +of light, observe) the eye exclusively rests. While this has +been taking place, a similar, though less total, change has +affected the flowerwork itself. In Plate I. fig. 2 (<i>a</i>), I have +given two from the transepts of Rouen. It will be observed +how absolutely the eye rests on the forms of the leaves, and +on the three berries in the angle, being in light exactly what +the trefoil is in darkness. These mouldings nearly adhere to +the stone; and are very slightly, though sharply, undercut. +In process of time, the attention of the architect, instead of +resting on the leaves, went to the <i>stalks</i>. These latter were +elongated (<i>b</i>, from the south door of St. Lo); and to exhibit +them better, the deep concavity was cut behind, so as to throw +them out in lines of light. The system was carried out into +continually increasing intricacy, until, in the transepts of +Beauvais, we have brackets and flamboyant traceries, composed +of twigs without any leaves at all. This, however, is a +partial, though a sufficiently characteristic, caprice, the leaf +being never generally banished, and in the mouldings round +those same doors, beautifully managed, but itself rendered +liny by bold marking of its ribs and veins, and by turning up, +and crisping its edges, large intermediate spaces being always +left to be occupied by intertwining stems (<i>c</i>, from Caudebec).<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +The trefoil of light formed by berries or acorns, though diminished +in value, was never lost up to the last period of living +Gothic.</p> + +<p>XXIII. It is interesting to follow into its many ramifications, +the influence of the corrupting principle; but we have +seen enough of it to enable us to draw our practical conclusion—a +conclusion a thousand times felt and reiterated in the experience +and advice of every practised artist, but never often +enough repeated, never profoundly enough felt. Of composition +and invention much has been written, it seems to me +vainly, for men cannot be taught to compose or to invent; of +these, the highest elements of Power in architecture, I do not, +therefore, speak; nor, here, of that peculiar restraint in the +imitation of natural forms, which constitutes the dignity of +even the most luxuriant work of the great periods. Of this +restraint I shall say a word or two in the next Chapter; pressing +now only the conclusion, as practically useful as it is certain, +that the relative majesty of buildings depends more on +the weight and vigor of their masses than on any other attribute +of their design: mass of everything, of bulk, of light, of +darkness, of color, not mere sum of any of these, but breadth +of them; not broken light, nor scattered darkness, nor divided +weight, but solid stone, broad sunshine, starless shade. Time +would fail me altogether, if I attempted to follow out the range +of the principle; there is not a feature, however apparently +trifling, to which it cannot give power. The wooden fillings +of belfry lights, necessary to protect their interiors from rain, +are in England usually divided into a number of neatly executed +cross-bars, like those of Venetian blinds, which, of +course, become as conspicuous in their sharpness as they are +uninteresting in their precise carpentry, multiplying, moreover, +the horizontal lines which directly contradict those of +the architecture. Abroad, such necessities are met by three +or four downright penthouse roofs, reaching each from within +the window to the outside shafts of its mouldings; instead of +the horrible row of ruled lines, the space is thus divided into +four or five grand masses of shadow, with grey slopes of roof +above, bent or yielding into all kinds of delicious swells and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +curves, and covered with warm tones of moss and lichen. Very +often the thing is more delightful than the stone-work itself, +and all because it is broad, dark, and simple. It matters not +how clumsy, how common, the means are, that get weight and +shadow—sloping roof, jutting porch, projecting balcony, hollow +niche, massy gargoyle, frowning parapet; get but gloom +and simplicity, and all good things will follow in their place +and time; do but design with the owl's eyes first, and you will +gain the falcon's afterwards.</p> + +<p>XXIV. I am grieved to have to insist upon what seems so +simple; it looks trite and commonplace when it is written, +but pardon me this: for it is anything but an accepted or understood +principle in practice, and the less excusably forgotten, +because it is, of all the great and true laws of art, the +easiest to obey. The executive facility of complying with its +demands cannot be too earnestly, too frankly asserted. There +are not five men in the kingdom who could compose, not +twenty who could cut, the foliage with which the windows of +Or San Michele are adorned; but there is many a village +clergyman who could invent and dispose its black openings, +and not a village mason who could not cut them. Lay a few +clover or wood-roof leaves on white paper, and a little alteration +in their positions will suggest figures which, cut boldly +through a slab of marble, would be worth more window traceries +than an architect could draw in a summer's day. There +are few men in the world who could design a Greek capital; +there are few who could not produce some vigor of effect with +leaf designs on Byzantine block: few who could design a Palladian +front, or a flamboyant pediment; many who could +build a square mass like the Strozzi palace. But I know not +how it is, unless that our English hearts have more oak than +stone in them, and have more filial sympathy with acorns than +Alps; but all that we do is small and mean, if not worse—thin, +and wasted, and unsubstantial. It is not modern work +only; we have built like frogs and mice since the thirteenth +century (except only in our castles). What a contrast between +the pitiful little pigeon-holes which stand for doors in +the east front of Salisbury, looking like the entrances to a bee<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>hive +or a wasp's nest, and the soaring arches and kingly +crowning of the gates of Abbeville, Rouen, and Rheims, or the +rock-hewn piers of Chartres, or the dark and vaulted porches +and writhed pillars of Verona! Of domestic architecture +what need is there to speak? How small, how cramped, how +poor, how miserable in its petty neatness is our best! how +beneath the mark of attack, and the level of contempt, that +which is common with us! What a strange sense of formalised +deformity, of shrivelled precision, of starved accuracy, +of minute misanthropy have we, as we leave even the +rude streets of Picardy for the market towns of Kent! Until +that street architecture of ours is bettered, until we give it +some size and boldness, until we give our windows recess, +and our walls thickness, I know not how we can blame our +architects for their feebleness in more important work; their +eyes are inured to narrowness and slightness: can we expect +them at a word to conceive and deal with breadth and solidity? +They ought not to live in our cities; there is that in their +miserable walls which bricks up to death men's imaginations, +as surely as ever perished forsworn nun. An architect should +live as little in cities as a painter. Send him to our hills, and +let him study there what nature understands by a buttress, +and what by a dome. There was something in the old power +of architecture, which it had from the recluse more than from +the citizen. The buildings of which I have spoken with chief +praise, rose, indeed, out of the war of the piazza, and above +the fury of the populace: and Heaven forbid that for such +cause we should ever have to lay a larger stone, or rivet a +firmer bar, in our England! But we have other sources of +power, in the imagery of our iron coasts and azure hills; of +power more pure, nor less serene, than that of the hermit +spirit which once lighted with white lines of cloisters the +glades of the Alpine pine, and raised into ordered spires the +wild rocks of the Norman sea; which gave to the temple gate +the depth and darkness of Elijah's Horeb cave; and lifted, +out of the populous city, grey cliffs of lonely stone, into the +midst of sailing birds and silent air.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE LAMP OF BEAUTY.</h3> + + +<p>I. It was stated, in the outset of the preceding chapter, +that the value of architecture depended on two distinct characters: +the one, the impression it receives from human power; +the other, the image it bears of the natural creation. I have +endeavored to show in what manner its majesty was attributable +to a sympathy with the effort and trouble of human life +(a sympathy as distinctly perceived in the gloom and mystery +of form, as it is in the melancholy tones of sounds). I desire +now to trace that happier element of its excellence, consisting +in a noble rendering of images of Beauty, derived chiefly from +the external appearances of organic nature.</p> + +<p>It is irrelevant to our present purpose to enter into any inquiry +respecting the essential causes of impressions of beauty. +I have partly expressed my thoughts on this matter in a previous +work, and I hope to develope them hereafter. But since +all such inquiries can only be founded on the ordinary understanding +of what is meant by the term Beauty, and since they +presume that the feeling of mankind on this subject is universal +and instinctive, I shall base my present investigation on +this assumption; and only asserting that to be beautiful which +I believe will be granted me to be so without dispute, I would +endeavor shortly to trace the manner in which this element of +delight is to be best engrafted upon architectural design, what +are the purest sources from which it is to be derived, and what +the errors to be avoided in its pursuit.</p> + +<p>II. It will be thought that I have somewhat rashly limited +the elements of architectural beauty to imitative forms. I do +not mean to assert that every arrangement of line is directly +suggested by a natural object; but that all beautiful lines are +adaptations of those which are commonest in the external creation; +that in proportion to the richness of their association, +the resemblance to natural work, as a type and help, must be +more closely attempted, and more clearly seen; and that be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>yond +a certain point, and that a very low one, man cannot advance +in the invention of beauty, without directly imitating +natural form. Thus, in the Doric temple, the triglyph and +cornice are unimitative; or imitative only of artificial cuttings +of wood. No one would call these members beautiful. Their +influence over us is in their severity and simplicity. The +fluting of the column, which I doubt not was the Greek symbol +of the bark of the tree, was imitative in its origin, and +feebly resembled many caniculated organic structures. Beauty +is instantly felt in it, but of a low order. The decoration +proper was sought in the true forms of organic life, and those +chiefly human. Again: the Doric capital was unimitative; +but all the beauty it had was dependent on the precision of +its ovolo, a natural curve of the most frequent occurrence. +The Ionic capital (to my mind, as an architectural invention, +exceedingly base) nevertheless depended for all the beauty +that it had on its adoption of a spiral line, perhaps the commonest +of all that characterise the inferior orders of animal +organism and habitation. Farther progress could not be +made without a direct imitation of the acanthus leaf.</p> + +<p>Again: the Romanesque arch is beautiful as an abstract +line. Its type is always before us in that of the apparent +vault of heaven, and horizon of the earth. The cylindrical +pillar is always beautiful, for God has so moulded the stem of +every tree that it is pleasant to the eyes. The pointed arch +is beautiful; it is the termination of every leaf that shakes in +summer wind, and its most fortunate associations are directly +borrowed from the trefoiled grass of the field, or from the +stars of its flowers. Further than this, man's invention could +not reach without frank imitation. His next step was to +gather the flowers themselves, and wreathe them in his capitals.</p> + +<p>III. Now, I would insist especially on the fact, of which I +doubt not that further illustrations will occur to the mind of +every reader, that all most lovely forms and thoughts are directly +taken from natural objects; because I would fain be +allowed to assume also the converse of this, namely, that +forms which are <i>not</i> taken from natural objects <i>must</i> be ugly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +I know this is a bold assumption; but as I have not space to +reason out the points wherein essential beauty of form consists, +that being far too serious a work to be undertaken in a +bye way, I have no other resource than to use this accidental +mark or test of beauty, of whose truth the considerations +which I hope hereafter to lay before the reader may assure +him. I say an accidental mark, since forms are not beautiful +<i>because</i> they are copied from nature; only it is out of the +power of man to conceive beauty without her aid. I believe +the reader will grant me this, even from the examples above +advanced; the degree of confidence with which it is granted +must attach also to his acceptance of the conclusions which +will follow from it; but if it be granted frankly, it will enable +me to determine a matter of very essential importance, namely, +what <i>is</i> or is <i>not</i> ornament. For there are many forms of +so-called decoration in architecture, habitual, and received, +therefore, with approval, or at all events without any venture +at expression or dislike, which I have no hesitation in asserting +to be not ornament at all, but to be ugly things, the expense +of which ought in truth to be set down in the architect's +contract, as "For Monstrification." I believe that we +regard these customary deformities with a savage complacency, +as an Indian does his flesh patterns and paint (all nations +being in certain degrees and senses savage). I believe +that I can prove them to be monstrous, and I hope hereafter +to do so conclusively; but, meantime, I can allege in defence +of my persuasion nothing but this fact of their being unnatural, +to which the reader must attach such weight as he +thinks it deserves. There is, however, a peculiar difficulty in +using this proof; it requires the writer to assume, very impertinently, +that nothing is natural but what he has seen or +supposes to exist. I would not do this; for I suppose there +is no conceivable form or grouping of forms but in some part +of the universe an example of it may be found. But I think I +am justified in considering those forms to be <i>most</i> natural +which are most frequent; or, rather, that on the shapes which +in the every-day world are familiar to the eyes of men, God +has stamped those characters of beauty which He has made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +it man's nature to love; while in certain exceptional forms +He has shown that the adoption of the others was not a +matter of necessity, but part of the adjusted harmony of creation. +I believe that thus we may reason from Frequency to +Beauty and <i>vice versâ</i>; that knowing a thing to be frequent, +we may assume it to be beautiful; and assume that which is +most frequent to be most beautiful: I mean, of course, <i>visibly</i> +frequent; for the forms of things which are hidden in caverns +of the earth, or in the anatomy of animal frames, are evidently +not intended by their Maker to bear the habitual gaze of man. +And, again, by frequency I mean that limited and isolated +frequency which is characteristic of all perfection; not mere +multitude: as a rose is a common flower, but yet there are +not so many roses on the tree as there are leaves. In this respect +Nature is sparing of her highest, and lavish of her less, +beauty; but I call the flower as frequent as the leaf, because, +each in its allotted quantity, where the one is, there will ordinarily +be the other.</p> + +<p>IV. The first so-called ornament, then, which I would attack +is that Greek fret, now, I believe, usually known by the +Italian name Guilloche, which is exactly a case in point. It +so happens that in crystals of bismuth formed by the unagitated +cooling of the melted metal, there occurs a natural resemblance +of it almost perfect. But crystals of bismuth not +only are of unusual occurrence in every-day life, but their +form is, as far as I know, unique among minerals; and not +only unique, but only attainable by an artificial process, the +metal itself never being found pure. I do not remember any +other substance or arrangement which presents a resemblance +to this Greek ornament; and I think that I may trust my remembrance +as including most of the arrangements which +occur in the outward forms of common and familiar things. +On this ground, then, I allege that ornament to be ugly; or, +in the literal sense of the word, monstrous; different from +anything which it is the nature of man to admire: and I +think an uncarved fillet or plinth infinitely preferable to one +covered with this vile concatenation of straight lines: unless +indeed it be employed as a foil to a true ornament, which it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +may, perhaps, sometimes with advantage; or excessively small, +as it occurs on coins, the harshness of its arrangement being +less perceived.</p> + +<p>V. Often in association with this horrible design we find, +in Greek works, one which is as beautiful as this is painful—that +egg and dart moulding, whose perfection in its place and +way, has never been surpassed. And why is this? Simply +because the form of which it is chiefly composed is one not +only familiar to us in the soft housing of the bird's nest, but +happens to be that of nearly every pebble that rolls and murmurs +under the surf of the sea, on all its endless shore. And +with that a peculiar accuracy; for the mass which bears the +light in this moulding is <i>not</i> in good Greek work, as in the +frieze of the Erechtheum, merely of the shape of an egg. It +is <i>flattened</i> on the upper surface, with a delicacy and keen +sense of variety in the curve which it is impossible too highly +to praise, attaining exactly that flattened, imperfect oval, +which, in nine cases out of ten, will be the form of the pebble +lifted at random from the rolled beach. Leave out this flatness, +and the moulding is vulgar instantly. It is singular +also that the insertion of this rounded form in the hollow +recess has a <i>painted</i> type in the plumage of the Argus pheasant, +the eyes of whose feathers are so shaded as exactly to +represent an oval form placed in a hollow.</p> + +<p>VI. It will evidently follow, upon our application of this +test of natural resemblance, that we shall at once conclude +that all perfectly beautiful forms must be composed of curves; +since there is hardly any common natural form in which it is +possible to discover a straight line. Nevertheless, Architecture, +having necessarily to deal with straight lines essential +to its purposes in many instances and to the expression of its +power in others, must frequently be content with that measure +of beauty which is consistent with such primal forms; +and we may presume that utmost measure of beauty to have +been attained when the arrangements of such lines are consistent +with the most frequent natural groupings of them we +can discover, although, to find right lines in nature at all, we +may be compelled to do violence to her finished work, break<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +through the sculptured and colored surfaces of her crags, and +examine the processes of their crystallisation.</p> + +<p>VII. I have just convicted the Greek fret of ugliness, because +it has no precedent to allege for its arrangement except +an artificial form of a rare metal. Let us bring into court an +ornament of Lombard architects, Plate XII., fig. 7, as exclusively +composed of right lines as the other, only, observe, with +the noble element of shadow added. This ornament, taken +from the front of the Cathedral of Pisa, is universal throughout +the Lombard churches of Pisa, Lucca, Pistoja, and Florence; +and it will be a grave stain upon them if it cannot +be defended. Its first apology for itself, made in a hurry, +sounds marvellously like the Greek one, and highly dubious. +It says that its terminal contour is the very image of a carefully +prepared artificial crystal of common salt. Salt being, +however, a substance considerably more familiar to us than +bismuth, the chances are somewhat in favor of the accused +Lombard ornament already. But it has more to say for itself, +and more to the purpose; namely, that its main outline is one +not only of natural crystallisation, but among the very first and +commonest of crystalline forms, being the primal condition of +the occurrence of the oxides of iron, copper, and tin, of the +sulphurets of iron and lead, of fluor spar, &c.; and that those +projecting forms in its surface represent the conditions of +structure which effect the change into another relative and +equally common crystalline form, the cube. This is quite +enough. We may rest assured it is as good a combination of +such simple right lines as can be put together, and gracefully +fitted for every place in which such lines are necessary.</p> + +<p>VIII. The next ornament whose cause I would try is that +of our Tudor work, the portcullis. Reticulation is common +enough in natural form, and very beautiful; but it is either of +the most delicate and gauzy texture, or of variously sized +meshes and undulating lines. There is no family relation between +portcullis and cobwebs or beetles' wings; something +like it, perhaps, may be found in some kinds of crocodile armor +and on the backs of the Northern divers, but always +beautifully varied in size of mesh. There is a dignity in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +thing itself, if its size were exhibited, and the shade given +through its bars; but even these merits are taken away in the +Tudor diminution of it, set on a solid surface. It has not a +single syllable, I believe, to say in its defence. It is another +monster, absolutely and unmitigatedly frightful. All that +carving on Henry the Seventh's Chapel simply deforms the +stones of it.</p> + +<p>In the same clause with the portcullis, we may condemn all +heraldic decoration, so far as beauty is its object. Its pride +and significance have their proper place, fitly occurring in +prominent parts of the building, as over its gates; and allowably +in places where its legendary may be plainly read, as in +painted windows, bosses of ceilings, &c. And sometimes, of +course, the forms which it presents may be beautiful, as of +animals, or simple symbols like the fleur-de-lis; but, for the +most part, heraldic similitudes and arrangements are so professedly +and pointedly unnatural, that it would be difficult to +invent anything uglier; and the use of them as a repeated +decoration will utterly destroy both the power and beauty of +any building. Common sense and courtesy also forbid their +repetition. It is right to tell those who enter your doors that +you are such a one, and of such a rank; but to tell it to them +again and again, wherever they turn, becomes soon impertinence, +and at last folly. Let, therefore, the entire bearings +occur in few places, and these not considered as an ornament, +but as an inscription; and for frequent appliance, let any single +and fair symbol be chosen out of them. Thus we may +multiply as much as we choose the French fleur-de-lis, or the +Florentine giglio bianco, or the English rose; but we must +not multiply a King's arms.</p> + +<p>IX. It will also follow, from these considerations, that if +any one part of heraldic decoration be worse than another, it +is the motto; since, of all things unlike nature, the forms of +letters are, perhaps, the most so. Even graphic tellurium and +felspar look, at their clearest, anything but legible. All letters +are, therefore, to be considered as frightful things, and +to be endured only upon occasion; that is to say, in places +where the sense of the inscription is of more importance than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +external ornament. Inscriptions in churches, in rooms, and +on pictures, are often desirable, but they are not to be considered +as architectural or pictorial ornaments: they are, on +the contrary, obstinate offences to the eye, not to be suffered +except when their intellectual office introduces them. Place +them, therefore, where they will be read, and there only; and +let them be plainly written, and not turned upside down, nor +wrong end first. It is an ill sacrifice to beauty to make that +illegible whose only merit is in its sense. Write it as you +would speak it, simply; and do not draw the eye to it when +it would fain rest elsewhere, nor recommend your sentence +by anything but a little openness of place and architectural +silence about it. Write the Commandments on the Church +walls where they may be plainly seen, but do not put a dash +and a tail to every letter; and remember that you are an architect, +not a writing master.</p> + +<p>X. Inscriptions appear sometimes to be introduced for the +sake of the scroll on which they are written; and in late and +modern painted glass, as well as in architecture, these scrolls +are flourished and turned hither and thither as if they were +ornamental. Ribands occur frequently in arabesques,—in +some of a high order, too,—tying up flowers, or flitting in and +out among the fixed forms. Is there anything like ribands +in nature? It might be thought that grass and sea-weed +afforded apologetic types. They do not. There is a wide +difference between their structure and that of a riband. They +have a skeleton, an anatomy, a central rib, or fibre, or framework +of some kind or another, which has a beginning and an +end, a root and head, and whose make and strength effects +every direction of their motion, and every line of their form. +The loosest weed that drifts and waves under the heaving of +the sea, or hangs heavily on the brown and slippery shore, +has a marked strength, structure, elasticity, gradation of substance; +its extremities are more finely fibred than its centre, +its centre than its root; every fork of its ramification is measured +and proportioned; every wave of its languid lines is love. +It has its allotted size, and place, and function; it is a specific +creature. What is there like this in a riband? It has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +no structure: it is a succession of cut threads all alike; it +has no skeleton, no make, no form, no size, no will of its own. +You cut it and crush it into what you will. It has no strength, +no languor. It cannot fall into a single graceful form. It +cannot wave, in the true sense, but only flutter: it cannot +bend, in the true sense, but only turn and be wrinkled. It +is a vile thing; it spoils all that is near its wretched film of +an existence. Never use it. Let the flowers come loose if +they cannot keep together without being tied; leave the sentence +unwritten if you cannot write it on a tablet or book, +or plain roll of paper. I know what authority there is against +me. I remember the scrolls of Perugino's angels, and the +ribands of Raphael's arabesques, and of Ghiberti's glorious +bronze flowers: no matter; they are every one of them vices +and uglinesses. Raphael usually felt this, and used an honest +and rational tablet, as in the Madonna di Fuligno. I do not +say there is any type of such tablets in nature, but all the +difference lies in the fact that the tablet is not considered as +an ornament, and the riband, or flying scroll, is. The tablet, +as in Albert Durer's Adam and Eve, is introduced for the sake +of the writing, understood and allowed as an ugly but necessary +interruption. The scroll is extended as an ornamental +form, which it is not, nor ever can be.</p> + +<p>XI. But it will be said that all this want of organisation +and form might be affirmed of drapery also, and that this +latter is a noble subject of sculpture. By no means. When +was drapery a subject of sculpture by itself, except in the +form of a handkerchief on urns in the seventeenth century and +in some of the baser scenic Italian decorations? Drapery, as +such, is always ignoble; it becomes a subject of interest only +by the colors it bears, and the impressions which it receives +from some foreign form or force. All noble draperies, either +in painting or sculpture (color and texture being at present +out of our consideration), have, so far as they are anything +more than necessities, one of two great functions; they are +the exponents of motion and of gravitation. They are the +most valuable means of expressing past as well as present +motion in the figure, and they are almost the only means of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +indicating to the eye the force of gravity which resists such +motion. The Greeks used drapery in sculpture for the most +part as an ugly necessity, but availed themselves of it gladly +in all representation of action, exaggerating the arrangements +of it which express lightness in the material, and follow gesture +in the person. The Christian sculptors, caring little for +the body, or disliking it, and depending exclusively on the +countenance, received drapery at first contentedly as a veil, +but soon perceived a capacity of expression in it which the +Greek had not seen or had despised. The principal element +of this expression was the entire removal of agitation from +what was so pre-eminently capable of being agitated. It fell +from their human forms plumb down, sweeping the ground +heavily, and concealing the feet; while the Greek drapery +was often blown away from the thigh. The thick and coarse +stuffs of the monkish dresses, so absolutely opposed to the +thin and gauzy web of antique material, suggested simplicity +of division as well as weight of fall. There was no crushing +nor subdividing them. And thus the drapery gradually came +to represent the spirit of repose as it before had of motion, +repose saintly and severe. The wind had no power upon the +garment, as the passion none upon the soul; and the motion +of the figure only bent into a softer line the stillness of the +falling veil, followed by it like a slow cloud by drooping rain: +only in links of lighter undulation it followed the dances of +the angels.</p> + +<p>Thus treated, drapery is indeed noble; but it is as an exponent +of other and higher things. As that of gravitation, it +has especial majesty, being literally the only means we have +of fully representing this mysterious natural force of earth (for +falling water is less passive and less defined in its lines). So, +again, in sails it is beautiful because it receives the forms of +solid curved surface, and expresses the force of another invisible +element. But drapery trusted to its own merits, and +given for its own sake,—drapery like that of Carlo Dolci and +the Caraccis,—is always base.</p> + +<p>XII. Closely connected with the abuse of scrolls and bands, +is that of garlands and festoons of flowers as an architectural<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +decoration, for unnatural arrangements are just as ugly as unnatural +forms; and architecture, in borrowing the objects of +nature, is bound to place them, as far as may be in her power, +in such associations as may befit and express their origin. She +is not to imitate directly the natural arrangement; she is not +to carve irregular stems of ivy up her columns to account for +the leaves at the top, but she is nevertheless to place her most +exuberant vegetable ornament just where Nature would have +placed it, and to give some indication of that radical and connected +structure which Nature would have given it. Thus +the Corinthian capital is beautiful, because it expands under +the abacus just as Nature would have expanded it; and because +it looks as if the leaves had one root, though that root +is unseen. And the flamboyant leaf mouldings are beautiful, +because they nestle and run up the hollows, and fill the angles, +and clasp the shafts which natural leaves would have delighted +to fill and to clasp. They are no mere cast of natural leaves; +they are counted, orderly, and architectural: but they are +naturally, and therefore beautifully, placed.</p> + +<p>XIII. Now I do not mean to say that Nature never uses +festoons: she loves them, and uses them lavishly; and though +she does so only in those places of excessive luxuriance wherein +it seems to me that architectural types should seldom be sought, +yet a falling tendril or pendent bough might, if managed with +freedom and grace, be well introduced into luxuriant decoration +(or if not, it is not their want of beauty, but of architectural +fitness, which incapacitates them for such uses). But +what resemblance to such example can we trace in a mass of +all manner of fruit and flowers, tied heavily into a long bunch, +thickest in the middle, and pinned up by both ends against a +dead wall? For it is strange that the wildest and most fanciful +of the builders of truly luxuriant architecture never ventured, +so far as I know, even a pendent tendril; while the +severest masters of the revived Greek permitted this extraordinary +piece of luscious ugliness to be fastened in the middle +of their blank surfaces. So surely as this arrangement is +adopted, the whole value of the flower work is lost. Who +among the crowds that gaze upon the building ever pause to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +admire the flower work of St. Paul's? It is as careful and as +rich as it can be, yet it adds no delightfulness to the edifice. +It is no part of it. It is an ugly excrescence. We always conceive +the building without it, and should be happier if our +conception were not disturbed by its presence. It makes the +rest of the architecture look poverty-stricken, instead of sublime; +and yet it is never enjoyed itself. Had it been put, +where it ought, into the capitals, it would have been beheld +with never-ceasing delight. I do not mean that it could have +been so in the present building, for such kind of architecture +has no business with rich ornament in any place; but that if +those groups of flowers had been put into natural places in an +edifice of another style, their value would have been felt as vividly +as now their uselessness. What applies to festoons is still +more sternly true of garlands. A garland is meant to be seen +upon a head. There it is beautiful, because we suppose it +newly gathered and joyfully worn. But it is not meant to be +hung upon a wall. If you want a circular ornament, put a +flat circle of colored marble, as in the Casa Doria and other +such palaces at Venice; or put a star, or a medallion, or if +you want a ring, put a solid one, but do not carve the images +of garlands, looking as if they had been used in the last procession, +and been hung up to dry, and serve next time withered. +Why not also carve pegs, and hats upon them?</p> + +<p>XIV. One of the worst enemies of modern Gothic architecture, +though seemingly an unimportant feature, is an excrescence, +as offensive by its poverty as the garland by its profusion, +the dripstone in the shape of the handle of a chest of +drawers, which is used over the square-headed windows of +what we call Elizabethan buildings. In the last Chapter, +it will be remembered that the square form was shown to be +that of pre-eminent Power, and to be properly adapted and +limited to the exhibition of space or surface. Hence, when +the window is to be an exponent of power, as for instance in +those by M. Angelo in the lower story of the Palazzo Ricardi +at Florence, the square head is the most noble form they can +assume; but then either their space must be unbroken, and +their associated mouldings the most severe, or else the square<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +must be used as a finial outline, and is chiefly to be associated +with forms of tracery, in which the relative form of power, the +circle, is predominant, as in Venetian, and Florentine, and +Pisan Gothic. But if you break upon your terminal square, +or if you cut its lines off at the top and turn them outwards, +you have lost its unity and space. It is an including form no +longer, but an added, isolated line, and the ugliest possible. +Look abroad into the landscape and see if you can discover +any one so bent and fragmentary as that of this strange +windlass-looking dripstone. You cannot. It is a monster. It +unites every element of ugliness, its line is harshly broken in +itself, and unconnected with every other; it has no harmony +either with structure or decoration, it has no architectural support, +it looks glued to the wall, and the only pleasant property +it has, is the appearance of some likelihood of its dropping off.</p> + +<p>I might proceed, but the task is a weary one, and I think I +have named those false forms of decoration which are most +dangerous in our modern architecture as being legal and accepted. +The barbarisms of individual fancy are as countless +as they are contemptible; they neither admit attack nor are +worth it; but these above named are countenanced, some by +the practice of antiquity, all by high authority: they have depressed +the proudest, and contaminated the purest schools, +and are so established in recent practice that I write rather +for the barren satisfaction of bearing witness against them, +than with hope of inducing any serious convictions to their +prejudice.</p> + +<p>XV. Thus far of what is <i>not</i> ornament. What ornament is, +will without difficulty be determined by the application of the +same test. It must consist of such studious arrangements of +form as are imitative or suggestive of those which are commonest +among natural existences, that being of course the +noblest ornament which represents the highest orders of existence. +Imitated flowers are nobler than imitated stones, +imitated animals, than flowers; imitated human form of all +animal forms the noblest. But all are combined in the +richest ornamental work; and the rock, the fountain, the +flowing river with its pebbled bed, the sea, the clouds of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +Heaven, the herb of the field, the fruit-tree bearing fruit, the +creeping thing, the bird, the beast, the man, and the angel, +mingle their fair forms on the bronze of Ghiberti.</p> + +<p>Every thing being then ornamental that is imitative, I +would ask the reader's attention to a few general considerations, +all that can here be offered relating to so vast a subject; +which, for convenience sake, may be classed under the three +heads of inquiry:—What is the right place for architectural +ornament? What is the peculiar treatment of ornament +which renders it architectural? and what is the right use of +color as associated with architectural imitative form?</p> + +<p>XVI. What is the place of ornament? Consider first that +the characters of natural objects which the architect can +represent are few and abstract. The greater part of those +delights by which Nature recommends herself to man at all +times, cannot be conveyed by him into his imitative work. +He cannot make his grass green and cool and good to rest +upon, which in nature is its chief use to man; nor can he +make his flowers tender and full of color and of scent, which +in nature are their chief powers of giving joy. Those qualities +which alone he can secure are certain severe characters +of form, such as men only see in nature on deliberate examination, +and by the full and set appliance of sight and +thought: a man must lie down on the bank of grass on his +breast and set himself to watch and penetrate the intertwining +of it, before he finds that which is good to be gathered by +the architect. So then while Nature is at all times pleasant to +us, and while the sight and sense of her work may mingle +happily with all our thoughts, and labors, and times of existence, +that image of her which the architect carries away +represents what we can only perceive in her by direct intellectual +exertion, and demands from us, wherever it appears, +an intellectual exertion of a similar kind in order to understand +it and feel it. It is the written or sealed impression of +a thing sought out, it is the shaped result of inquiry and +bodily expression of thought.</p> + +<p>XVII. Now let us consider for an instant what would be +the effect of continually repeating an expression of a beautiful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +thought to any other of the senses at times when the mind +could not address that sense to the understanding of it. +Suppose that in time of serious occupation, of stern business, +a companion should repeat in our ears continually some +favorite passage of poetry, over and over again all day long. +We should not only soon be utterly sick and weary of the +sound of it, but that sound would at the end of the day have +so sunk into the habit of the ear that the entire meaning of +the passage would be dead to us, and it would ever thenceforward +require some effort to fix and recover it. The music +of it would not meanwhile have aided the business in hand, +while its own delightfulness would thenceforward be in a +measure destroyed. It is the same with every other form of +definite thought. If you violently present its expression to +the senses, at times when the mind is otherwise engaged, that +expression will be ineffective at the time, and will have its +sharpness and clearness destroyed forever. Much more if +you present it to the mind at times when it is painfully +affected or disturbed, or if you associate the expression of +pleasant thought with incongruous circumstances, you will +affect that expression thenceforward with a painful color for +ever.</p> + +<p>XVIII. Apply this to expressions of thought received by +the eye. Remember that the eye is at your mercy more than +the ear. "The eye it cannot choose but see." Its nerve is +not so easily numbed as that of the ear, and it is often busied +in tracing and watching forms when the ear is at rest. Now +if you present lovely forms to it when it cannot call the mind +to help it in its work, and among objects of vulgar use and +unhappy position, you will neither please the eye nor elevate +the vulgar object. But you will fill and weary the eye with +the beautiful form, and you will infect that form itself with +the vulgarity of the thing to which you have violently attached +it. It will never be of much use to you any more; you have +killed or defiled it; its freshness and purity are gone. You +will have to pass it through the fire of much thought before +you will cleanse it, and warm it with much love before it will +revive.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>XIX. Hence then a general law, of singular importance in +the present day, a law of simple common sense,—not to decorate +things belonging to purposes of active and occupied +life. Wherever you can rest, there decorate; where rest is +forbidden, so is beauty. You must not mix ornament with +business, any more than you may mix play. Work first, and +then rest. Work first and then gaze, but do not use golden +ploughshares, nor bind ledgers in enamel. Do not thrash +with sculptured flails: nor put bas-reliefs on millstones. +What! it will be asked, are we in the habit of doing so? +Even so; always and everywhere. The most familiar position +of Greek mouldings is in these days on shop fronts. +There is not a tradesman's sign nor shelf nor counter in all +the streets of all our cities, which has not upon it ornaments +which were invented to adorn temples and beautify kings' +palaces. There is not the smallest advantage in them where +they are. Absolutely valueless—utterly without the power +of giving pleasure, they only satiate the eye, and vulgarise +their own forms. Many of these are in themselves thoroughly +good copies of fine things, which things themselves +we shall never, in consequence, enjoy any more. Many a +pretty beading and graceful bracket there is in wood or +stucco above our grocers' and cheese-mongers' and hosiers' +shops: how it is that the tradesmen cannot understand that +custom is to be had only by selling good tea and cheese and +cloth, and that people come to them for their honesty, and +their readiness, and their right wares, and not because they +have Greek cornices over their windows, or their names in +large gilt letters on their house fronts? how pleasurable it +would be to have the power of going through the streets of +London, pulling down those brackets and friezes and large +names, restoring to the tradesmen the capital they had spent +in architecture, and putting them on honest and equal terms, +each with his name in black letters over his door, not shouted +down the street from the upper stories, and each with a plain +wooden shop casement, with small panes in it that people +would not think of breaking in order to be sent to +prison! How much better for them would it be—how much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +happier, how much wiser, to put their trust upon their own +truth and industry, and not on the idiocy of their customers. +It is curious, and it says little for our national probity on +the one hand, or prudence on the other, to see the whole system +of our street decoration based on the idea that people +must be baited to a shop as moths are to a candle.</p> + +<p>XX. But it will be said that much of the best wooden decoration +of the middle ages was in shop fronts. No; it was in +<i>house</i> fronts, of which the shop was a part, and received its +natural and consistent portion of the ornament. In those +days men lived, and intended to live <i>by</i> their shops, and over +them, all their days. They were contented with them and +happy in them: they were their palaces and castles. They +gave them therefore such decoration as made themselves +happy in their own habitation, and they gave it for their own +sake. The upper stories were always the richest, and the +shop was decorated chiefly about the door, which belonged to +the house more than to it. And when our tradesmen settle +to their shops in the same way, and form no plans respecting +future villa architecture, let their whole houses be decorated, +and their shops too, but with a national and domestic decoration +(I shall speak more of this point in the sixth chapter). +However, our cities are for the most part too large to admit +of contented dwelling in them throughout life; and I do not +say there is harm in our present system of separating the +shop from the dwelling-house; only where they are so separated, +let us remember that the only reason for shop decoration +is removed, and see that the decoration be removed +also.</p> + +<p>XXI. Another of the strange and evil tendencies of the +present day is to the decoration of the railroad station. Now, +if there be any place in the world in which people are deprived +of that portion of temper and discretion which are +necessary to the contemplation of beauty, it is there. It is +the very temple of discomfort, and the only charity that the +builder can extend to us is to show us, plainly as may be, how +soonest to escape from it. The whole system of railroad travelling +is addressed to people who, being in a hurry, are there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>fore, +for the time being, miserable. No one would travel in +that manner who could help it—who had time to go leisurely +over hills and between hedges, instead of through tunnels and +between banks: at least those who would, have no sense of +beauty so acute as that we need consult it at the station. The +railroad is in all its relations a matter of earnest business, to +be got through as soon as possible. It transmutes a man +from a traveller into a living parcel. For the time he has +parted with the nobler characteristics of his humanity for the +sake of a planetary power of locomotion. Do not ask him to +admire anything. You might as well ask the wind. Carry +him safely, dismiss him soon: he will thank you for nothing +else. All attempts to please him in any other way are mere +mockery, and insults to the things by which you endeavor to +do so. There never was more flagrant nor impertinent folly +than the smallest portion of ornament in anything concerned +with railroads or near them. Keep them out of the way, take +them through the ugliest country you can find, confess them +the miserable things they are, and spend nothing upon them +but for safety and speed. Give large salaries to efficient servants, +large prices to good manufacturers, large wages to able +workmen; let the iron be tough, and the brickwork solid, +and the carriages strong. The time is perhaps not distant +when these first necessities may not be easily met: and to increase +expense in any other direction is madness. Better +bury gold in the embankments, than put it in ornaments on +the stations. Will a single traveller be willing to pay an increased +fare on the South Western, because the columns of +the terminus are covered with patterns from Nineveh? He +will only care less for the Ninevite ivories in the British Museum: +or on the North Western, because there are old English-looking +spandrils to the roof of the station at Crewe? He +will only have less pleasure in their prototypes at Crewe +House. Railroad architecture has or would have a dignity +of its own if it were only left to its work. You would not +put rings on the fingers of a smith at his anvil.</p> + +<p>XXII. It is not however only in these marked situations +that the abuse of which I speak takes place. There is hardly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +at present, an application of ornamental work, which is not +in some sort liable to blame of the same kind. We have a +bad habit of trying to disguise disagreeable necessities by +some form of sudden decoration, which is, in all other places, +associated with such necessities. I will name only one instance, +that to which I have alluded before—the roses which +conceal the ventilators in the flat roofs of our chapels. Many +of those roses are of very beautiful design, borrowed from +fine works: all their grace and finish are invisible when they +are so placed, but their general form is afterwards associated +with the ugly buildings in which they constantly occur; and +all the beautiful roses of the early French and English Gothic, +especially such elaborate ones as those of the triforium of +Coutances, are in consequence deprived of their pleasurable +influence: and this without our having accomplished the +smallest good by the use we have made of the dishonored form. +Not a single person in the congregation ever receives one ray +of pleasure from those roof roses; they are regarded with +mere indifference, or lost in the general impression of harsh +emptiness.</p> + +<p>XXIII. Must not beauty, then, it will be asked, be sought for +in the forms which we associate with our every-day life? Yes, +if you do it consistently, and in places where it can be calmly +seen; but not if you use the beautiful form only as a mask +and covering of the proper conditions and uses of things, +nor if you thrust it into the places set apart for toil. Put it in +the drawing-room, not into the workshop; put it upon domestic +furniture, not upon tools of handicraft. All men have +sense of what is right in this manner, if they would only use +and apply that sense; every man knows where and how +beauty gives him pleasure, if he would only ask for it when it +does so, and not allow it to be forced upon him when he does +not want it. Ask any one of the passengers over London +Bridge at this instant whether he cares about the forms of the +bronze leaves on its lamps, and he will tell you, No. Modify +these forms of leaves to a less scale, and put them on his milk-jug +at breakfast, and ask him whether he likes them, and he +will tell you, Yes. People have no need of teaching if they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +could only think and speak truth, and ask for what they like +and want, and for nothing else: nor can a right disposition +of beauty be ever arrived at except by this common sense, +and allowance for the circumstances of the time and place. +It does not follow, because bronze leafage is in bad taste on +the lamps of London Bridge, that it would be so on those of +the Ponte della Trinita; nor, because it would be a folly to +decorate the house fronts of Gracechurch Street, that it would +be equally so to adorn those of some quiet provincial town. +The question of greatest external or internal decoration depends +entirely on the conditions of probable repose. It was +a wise feeling which made the streets of Venice so rich in external +ornament, for there is no couch of rest like the gondola. +So, again, there is no subject of street ornament so wisely +chosen as the fountain, where it is a fountain of use; for it is +just there that perhaps the happiest pause takes place in the +labor of the day, when the pitcher is rested on the edge of it, +and the breath of the bearer is drawn deeply, and the hair +swept from the forehead, and the uprightness of the form +declined against the marble ledge, and the sound of the kind +word or light laugh mixes with the trickle of the falling water, +heard shriller and shriller as the pitcher fills. What pause is +so sweet as that—so full of the depth of ancient days, so softened +with the calm of pastoral solitude?</p> + +<p>XXIV. II. Thus far, then, of the place for beauty. We +were next to inquire into the characters which fitted it peculiarly +for architectural appliance, and into the principles of +choice and of arrangement which best regulate the imitation +of natural forms in which it consists. The full answering of +these questions would be a treatise on the art of design: I intend +only to say a few words respecting the two conditions of +that art which are essentially architectural,—Proportion and +Abstraction. Neither of these qualities is necessary, to the +same extent, in other fields of design. The sense of proportion +is, by the landscape painter, frequently sacrificed to character +and accident; the power of abstraction to that of complete +realisation. The flowers of his foreground must often be unmeasured +in their quantity, loose in their arrangement: what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +is calculated, either in quantity or disposition, must be artfully +concealed. That calculation is by the architect to be +prominently exhibited. So the abstraction of few characteristics +out of many is shown only in the painter's sketch; in +his finished work it is concealed or lost in completion. Architecture, +on the contrary, delights in Abstraction and fears to +complete her forms. Proportion and Abstraction, then, are +the two especial marks of architectural design as distinguished +from all other. Sculpture must have them in inferior degrees; +leaning, on the one hand, to an architectural manner, when it +is usually greatest (becoming, indeed, a part of Architecture), +and, on the other, to a pictorial manner, when it is apt to lose +its dignity, and sink into mere ingenious carving.</p> + +<p>XXV. Now, of Proportion so much has been written, that +I believe the only facts which are of practical use have been +overwhelmed and kept out of sight by vain accumulations of +particular instances and estimates. Proportions are as infinite +(and that in all kinds of things, as severally in colors, lines, +shades, lights, and forms) as possible airs in music: and it is +just as rational an attempt to teach a young architect how to +proportion truly and well by calculating for him the proportions +of fine works, as it would be to teach him to compose +melodies by calculating the mathematical relations of the notes +in Beethoven's Adelaïde or Mozart's Requiem. The man who +has eye and intellect will invent beautiful proportions, and +cannot help it; but he can no more tell <i>us</i> how to do it than +Wordsworth could tell us how to write a sonnet, or than Scott +could have told us how to plan a romance. But there are one +or two general laws which can be told: they are of no use, +indeed, except as preventives of gross mistake, but they are so +far worth telling and remembering; and the more so because, +in the discussion of the subtle laws of proportion (which will +never be either numbered or known), architects are perpetually +forgetting and transgressing the very simplest of its +necessities.</p> + +<p>XXVI. Of which the first is, that wherever Proportion exists +at all, one member of the composition must be either larger +than, or in some way supreme over, the rest. There is no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +proportion between equal things. They can have symmetry +only, and symmetry without proportion is not composition. It +is necessary to perfect beauty, but it is the least necessary of +its elements, nor of course is there any difficulty in obtaining +it. Any succession of equal things is agreeable; but to compose +is to arrange unequal things, and the first thing to be +done in beginning a composition is to determine which is to +be the principal thing. I believe that all that has been +written and taught about proportion, put together, is not to +the architect worth the single rule, well enforced, "Have one +large thing and several smaller things, or one principal thing +and several inferior things, and bind them well together." +Sometimes there may be a regular gradation, as between the +heights of stories in good designs for houses; sometimes a +monarch with a lowly train, as in the spire with its pinnacles: +the varieties of arrangement are infinite, but the law is +universal—have one thing above the rest, either by size, or office, +or interest. Don't put the pinnacles without the spire. What +a host of ugly church towers have we in England, with pinnacles +at the corners, and none in the middle! How many +buildings like King's College Chapel at Cambridge, looking +like tables upside down, with their four legs in the air! What! +it will be said, have not beasts four legs? Yes, but legs of +different shapes, and with a head between them. So they +have a pair of ears: and perhaps a pair of horns: but not at +both ends. Knock down a couple of pinnacles at either end +in King's College Chapel, and you will have a kind of proportion +instantly. So in a cathedral you may have one tower in +the centre, and two at the west end; or two at the west end +only, though a worse arrangement: but you must not have +two at the west and two at the east end, unless you have some +central member to connect them; and even then, buildings +are generally bad which have large balancing features at the +extremities, and small connecting ones in the centre, because +it is not easy then to make the centre dominant. The bird or +moth may indeed have wide wings, because the size of the wing +does not give supremacy to the wing. The head and life are +the mighty things, and the plumes, however wide, are sub<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>ordinate. +In fine west fronts with a pediment and two towers, +the centre is always the principal mass, both in bulk and interest +(as having the main gateway), and the towers are subordinated +to it, as an animal's horns are to its head. The +moment the towers rise so high as to overpower the body and +centre, and become themselves the principal masses, they will +destroy the proportion, unless they are made unequal, and +one of them the leading feature of the cathedral, as at Antwerp +and Strasburg. But the purer method is to keep them +down in due relation to the centre, and to throw up the pediment +into a steep connecting mass, drawing the eye to it by +rich tracery. This is nobly done in St. Wulfran of Abbeville, +and attempted partly at Rouen, though that west front is made +up of so many unfinished and supervening designs that it is +impossible to guess the real intention of any one of its builders.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 673px;"> +<img src="images/i145.png" width="673" height="1162" alt="PLATE X." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE X.—(Page 122—Vol. V.)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Traceries and Mouldings from Rouen and Salisbury.</span></span> +</div> + + +<p>XXVII. This rule of supremacy applies to the smallest as +well as to the leading features: it is interestingly seen in the +arrangement of all good mouldings. I have given one, on the +opposite page, from Rouen cathedral; that of the tracery before +distinguished as a type of the noblest manner of Northern +Gothic (Chap. II. § XXII.). It is a tracery of three orders, of +which the first is divided into a leaf moulding, fig. 4, and <i>b</i> in +the section, and a plain roll, also seen in fig. 4, <i>c</i> in the section; +these two divisions surround the entire window or panelling, +and are carried by two-face shafts of corresponding sections. +The second and third orders are plain rolls following +the line of the tracery; four divisions of moulding in all: of +these four, the leaf moulding is, as seen in the sections, much +the largest; next to it the outer roll; then, by an exquisite +alternation, the innermost roll (<i>e</i>), in order that it may not be +lost in the recess and the intermediate (<i>d</i>), the smallest. Each +roll has its own shaft and capital; and the two smaller, which +in effect upon the eye, owing to the retirement of the innermost, +are nearly equal, have smaller capitals than the two +larger, lifted a little to bring them to the same level. The +wall in the trefoiled lights is curved, as from <i>e</i> to <i>f</i> in the section; +but in the quatrefoil it is flat, only thrown back to the +full depth of the recess below so as to get a sharp shadow +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +instead of a soft one, the mouldings falling back to it in nearly +a vertical curve behind the roll <i>e</i>. This could not, however, +be managed with the simpler mouldings of the smaller quatrefoil +above, whose half section is given from <i>g</i> to <i>g<sub>2</sub></i>; but +the architect was evidently fretted by the heavy look of its +circular foils as opposed to the light spring of the arches below: +so he threw its cusps obliquely clear from the wall, as +seen in fig. 2, attached to it where they meet the circle, but +with their finials pushed out from the natural level (<i>h</i>, in the +section) to that of the first order (<i>g<sub>2</sub></i>) and supported by stone +props behind, as seen in the profile fig. 2, which I got from +the correspondent panel on the buttress face (fig. 1 being on +its side), and of which the lower cusps, being broken away, +show the remnant of one of their props projecting from the +wall. The oblique curve thus obtained in the profile is of +singular grace. Take it all in all, I have never met with a +more exquisite piece of varied, yet severe, proportioned and +general arrangement (though all the windows of the period +are fine, and especially delightful in the subordinate proportioning +of the smaller capitals to the smaller shafts). The +only fault it has is the inevitable misarrangement of the central +shafts; for the enlargement of the inner roll, though +beautiful in the group of four divisions at the side, causes, +in the triple central shaft, the very awkwardness of heavy +lateral members which has just been in most instances condemned. +In the windows of the choir, and in most of the +period, this difficulty is avoided by making the fourth order a +fillet which only follows the foliation, while the three outermost +are nearly in arithmetical progression of size, and the central +triple shaft has of course the largest roll in front. The +moulding of the Palazzo Foscari (Plate VIII., and Plate IV. +fig. 8) is, for so simple a group, the grandest in effect I have +even seen: it is composed of a large roll with two subordinates.</p> + +<p>XXVIII. It is of course impossible to enter into details of +instances belonging to so intricate division of our subject, in +the compass of a general essay. I can but rapidly name the +chief conditions of right. Another of these is the connection<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +of Symmetry with horizontal, and of Proportion with vertical, +division. Evidently there is in symmetry a sense not merely +of equality, but of balance: now a thing cannot be balanced +by another on the top of it, though it may by one at the side +of it. Hence, while it is not only allowable, but often necessary, +to divide buildings, or parts of them, horizontally into +halves, thirds, or other equal parts, all vertical divisions of +this kind are utterly wrong; worst into half, next worst in +the regular numbers which more betray the equality. I should +have thought this almost the first principle of proportion +which a young architect was taught: and yet I remember an +important building, recently erected in England, in which +the columns are cut in half by the projecting architraves of +the central windows; and it is quite usual to see the spires +of modern Gothic churches divided by a band of ornament +half way up. In all fine spires there are two bands and three +parts, as at Salisbury. The ornamented portion of the tower +is there cut in half, and allowably, because the spire forms the +third mass to which the other two are subordinate: two stories +are also equal in Giotto's campanile, but dominant over +smaller divisions below, and subordinated to the noble third +above. Even this arrangement is difficult to treat; and it is +usually safer to increase or diminish the height of the divisions +regularly as they rise, as in the Doge's Palace, whose +three divisions are in a bold geometrical progression: or, in +towers, to get an alternate proportion between the body, the +belfry, and the crown, as in the campanile of St. Mark's. +But, at all events, get rid of equality; leave that to children +and their card houses: the laws of nature and the reason of +man are alike against it, in arts, as in politics. There is but +one thoroughly ugly tower in Italy that I know of, and that +is so because it is divided into vertical equal parts: the tower +of Pisa.<a href="#NOTE_XII" class="fnanchor">12</a></p> + +<p>XXIX. One more principle of Proportion I have to name, +equally simple, equally neglected. Proportion is between +three terms at <i>least</i>. Hence, as the pinnacles are not enough +without the spire, so neither the spire without the pinnacles. All +men feel this and usually express their feeling by saying that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +the pinnacles conceal the junction of the spire and tower. +This is one reason; but a more influential one is, that the +pinnacles furnish the third term to the spire and tower. So +that it is not enough, in order to secure proportion, to divide +a building unequally; it must be divided into at least three +parts; it may be into more (and in details with advantage), +but on a large scale I find three is about the best number of +parts in elevation, and five in horizontal extent, with freedom +of increase to five in the one case and seven in the other; but +not to more without confusion (in architecture, that is to say; +for in organic structure the numbers cannot be limited). I +purpose, in the course of works which are in preparation, to +give copious illustrations of this subject, but I will take at +present only one instance of vertical proportion, from the +flower stem of the common water plantain, <i>Alisma Plantago</i>. +Fig. 5, Plate XII. is a reduced profile of one side of a plant +gathered at random; it is seen to have five masts, of which, +however, the uppermost is a mere shoot, and we can consider +only their relations up to the fourth. Their lengths are +measured on the line A B, which is the actual length of the +lowest mass <i>a b</i>, A C=<i>b c</i>, A D=<i>c d</i>, and A E=<i>d e</i>. If the +reader will take the trouble to measure these lengths and +compare them, he will find that, within half a line, the uppermost +A E=5/7 of A D, A D=6/8 of A C, and A C=7/9 of A B; a +most subtle diminishing proportion. From each of the joints +spring three major and three minor branches, each between +each; but the major branches, at any joint, are placed over +the minor branches at the joint below, by the curious arrangement +of the joint itself—the stem is bluntly triangular; fig. +6 shows the section of any joint. The outer darkened triangle +is the section of the lower stem; the inner, left light, +of the upper stem; and the three main branches spring from +the ledges left by the recession. Thus the stems diminish in +diameter just as they diminish in height. The main branches +(falsely placed in the profile over each other to show their +relations) have respectively seven, six, five, four, and three +arm-bones, like the masts of the stem; these divisions being +proportioned in the same subtle manner. From the joints of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +these, it seems to be the <i>plan</i> of the plant that three major +and three minor branches should again spring, bearing the +flowers: but, in these infinitely complicated members, vegetative +nature admits much variety; in the plant from which +these measures were taken the full complement appeared only +at one of the secondary joints.</p> + +<p>The leaf of this plant has five ribs on each side, as its flower +generally five masts, arranged with the most exquisite grace +of curve; but of lateral proportion I shall rather take illustrations +from architecture: the reader will find several in the accounts +of the Duomo at Pisa and St. Mark's at Venice, in +Chap. V. §§ XIV.-XVI. I give these arrangements merely as +illustrations, not as precedents: all beautiful proportions are +unique, they are not general formulæ.</p> + +<p>XXX. The other condition of architectural treatment which +we proposed to notice was the abstraction of imitated form. +But there is a peculiar difficulty in touching within these narrow +limits on such a subject as this, because the abstraction +of which we find examples in existing art, is partly involuntary; +and it is a matter of much nicety to determine where it +begins to be purposed. In the progress of national as well +as of individual mind, the first attempts at imitation are always +abstract and incomplete. Greater completion marks +the progress of art, absolute completion usually its decline; +whence absolute completion of imitative form is often supposed +to be in itself wrong. But it is not wrong always, only +dangerous. Let us endeavor briefly to ascertain wherein its +danger consists, and wherein its dignity.</p> + +<p>XXXI. I have said that all art is abstract in its beginnings; +that is to say, it expresses only a small number of the qualities +of the thing represented. Curved and complex lines are represented +by straight and simple ones; interior markings of forms +are few, and much is symbolical and conventional. There is a +resemblance between the work of a great nation, in this phase, +and the work of childhood and ignorance, which, in the mind +of a careless observer, might attach something like ridicule to it. +The form of a tree on the Ninevite sculptures is much like that +which, come twenty years ago, was familiar upon samplers; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +the types of the face and figure in early Italian art are susceptible +of easy caricature. On the signs which separate the infancy +of magnificent manhood from every other, I do not pause to +insist (they consist entirely in the choice of the symbol and of +the features abstracted); but I pass to the next stage of art, a +condition of strength in which the abstraction which was begun +in incapability is continued in free will. This is the case, however, +in pure sculpture and painting, as well as in architecture; +and we have nothing to do but with that greater severity of +manner which fits either to be associated with the more realist +art. I believe it properly consists only in a due expression of +their subordination, an expression varying according to their +place and office. The question is first to be clearly determined +whether the architecture is a frame for the sculpture, or the +sculpture an ornament of the architecture. If the latter, then +the first office of that sculpture is not to represent the things it +imitates, but to gather out of them those arrangements of +form which shall be pleasing to the eye in their intended places. +So soon as agreeable lines and points of shade have been added +to the mouldings which were meagre, or to the lights which +were unrelieved, the architectural work of the imitation is accomplished; +and how far it shall be wrought towards completeness +or not, will depend upon its place, and upon other various +circumstances. If, in its particular use or position, it is symmetrically +arranged, there is, of course, an instant indication of +architectural subjection. But symmetry is not abstraction. +Leaves may be carved in the most regular order, and yet be +meanly imitative; or, on the other hand, they may be thrown +wild and loose, and yet be highly architectural in their separate +treatment. Nothing can be less symmetrical than the group of +leaves which join the two columns in Plate XIII.; yet, since +nothing of the leaf character is given but what is necessary +for the bare suggestion of its image and the attainment of the +lines desired, their treatment is highly abstract. It shows that +the workman only wanted so much of the leaf as he supposed +good for his architecture, and would allow no more; and how +much is to be supposed good, depends, as I have said, much +more on place and circumstance than on general laws. I know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +that this is not usually thought, and that many good architects +would insist on abstraction in all cases: the question is so wide +and so difficult that I express my opinion upon it most diffidently; +but my own feeling is, that a purely abstract manner, +like that of our earliest English work, does not afford room for +the perfection of beautiful form, and that its severity is wearisome +after the eye has been long accustomed to it. I have not +done justice to the Salisbury dog-tooth moulding, of which the +effect is sketched in fig. 5, Plate X., but I have done more justice +to it nevertheless than to the beautiful French one above +it; and I do not think that any candid reader would deny that, +piquant and spirited as is that from Salisbury, the Rouen moulding +is, in every respect, nobler. It will be observed that its +symmetry is more complicated, the leafage being divided into +double groups of two lobes each, each lobe of different structure. +With exquisite feeling, one of these double groups is +alternately omitted on the other side of the moulding (not seen +in the Plate, but occupying the cavetto of the section), thus +giving a playful lightness to the whole; and if the reader will +allow for a beauty in the flow of the curved outlines (especially +on the angle), of which he cannot in the least judge from my +rude drawing, he will not, I think, expect easily to find a nobler +instance of decoration adapted to the severest mouldings.</p> + +<p>Now it will be observed, that there is in its treatment a +high degree of abstraction, though not so conventional as that +of Salisbury: that is to say, the leaves have little more than +their flow and outline represented; they are hardly undercut, +but their edges are connected by a gentle and most studied +curve with the stone behind; they have no serrations, no +veinings, no rib or stalk on the angle, only an incision gracefully +made towards their extremities, indicative of the central +rib and depression. The whole style of the abstraction shows +that the architect could, if he had chosen, have carried the +imitation much farther, but stayed at this point of his own +free will; and what he has done is also so perfect in its kind, +that I feel disposed to accept his authority without question, +so far as I can gather it from his works, on the whole subject +of abstraction.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>XXXII. Happily his opinion is frankly expressed. This +moulding is on the lateral buttress, and on a level with the top +of the north gate; it cannot therefore be closely seen except +from the wooden stairs of the belfry; it is not intended to be +so seen, but calculated for a distance of, at least, forty to fifty +feet from the eye. In the vault of the gate itself, half as near +again, there are three rows of mouldings, as I think, by the +same designer, at all events part of the same plan. One of +them is given in Plate I. fig. 2 <i>a</i>. It will be seen that the abstraction +is here infinitely less; the ivy leaves have stalks and +associated fruit, and a rib for each lobe, and are so far undercut +as to detach their forms from the stone; while in the vine-leaf +moulding above, of the same period, from the south gate, +serration appears added to other purely imitative characters. +Finally, in the animals which form the ornaments of the portion +of the gate which is close to the eye, abstraction nearly +vanishes into perfect sculpture.</p> + +<p>XXXIII. Nearness to the eye, however, is not the only circumstance +which influences architectural abstraction. These +very animals are not merely better cut because close to the +eye; they are put close to the eye that they may, without indiscretion, +be better cut, on the noble principle, first I think, +clearly enunciated by Mr. Eastlake, that the closest imitation +shall be of the noblest object. Farther, since the wildness +and manner of growth of vegetation render a bona fide imitation +of it impossible in sculpture—since its members must be +reduced in number, ordered in direction, and cut away from +their roots, even under the most earnestly imitative treatment,—it +becomes a point, as I think, of good judgment, to proportion +the completeness of execution of parts to the formality +of the whole; and since five or six leaves must stand for a +tree, to let also five or six touches stand for a leaf. But since +the animal generally admits of perfect outline—since its form +is detached, and may be fully represented, its sculpture may +be more complete and faithful in all its parts. And this principle +will be actually found. I believe, to guide the old workmen. +If the animal form be in a gargoyle, incomplete, and +coining out of a block of stone, or if a head only, as for a boss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +or other such partial use, its sculpture will be highly abstract. +But if it be an entire animal, as a lizard, or a bird, or a +squirrel, peeping among leafage, its sculpture will be much +farther carried, and I think, if small, near the eye, and worked +in a fine material, may rightly be carried to the utmost possible +completion. Surely we cannot wish a less finish bestowed +on those which animate the mouldings of the south door of +the cathedral of Florence; nor desire that the birds in the +capitals of the Doge's palace should be stripped of a single +plume.</p> + + +<p>XXXIV. Under these limitations, then, I think that perfect +sculpture may be made a part of the severest architecture; +but this perfection was said in the outset to be dangerous. It +is so in the highest degree; for the moment the architect +allows himself to dwell on the imitated portions, there is a +chance of his losing sight of the duty of his ornament, of its +business as a part of the composition, and sacrificing its points +of shade and effect to the delight of delicate carving. And +then he is lost. His architecture has become a mere framework +for the setting of delicate sculpture, which had better +be all taken down and put into cabinets. It is well, therefore, +that the young architect should be taught to think of +imitative ornament as of the extreme of grace in language; not +to be regarded at first, not to be obtained at the cost of purpose, +meaning, force, or conciseness, yet, indeed, a perfection—the +least of all perfections, and yet the crowning one of all—one +which by itself, and regarded in itself, is an architectural +coxcombry, but is yet the sign of the most highly-trained +mind and power when it is associated with others. It is a +safe manner, as I think, to design all things at first in severe +abstraction, and to be prepared, if need were, to carry them +out in that form; then to mark the parts where high finish +would be admissible, to complete these always with stern reference +to their general effect, and then connect them by a +graduated scale of abstraction with the rest. And there is +one safeguard against danger in this process on which I +would finally insist. Never imitate anything but natural +forms, and those the noblest, in the completed parts. The +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +degradation of the cinque cento manner of decoration was not +owing to its naturalism, to its faithfulness of imitation, but to +its imitation of ugly, i.e. unnatural things. So long as it restrained +itself to sculpture of animals and flowers, it remained +noble. The balcony, on the opposite page, from a house in +the Campo St. Benedetto at Venice, shows one of the earliest +occurrences of the cinque cento arabesque, and a fragment of +the pattern is given in Plate XII. fig. 8. It is but the arresting +upon the stone work of a stem or two of the living flowers, +which are rarely wanting in the window above (and which, by +the by, the French and Italian peasantry often trellis with exquisite +taste about their casements). This arabesque, relieved +as it is in darkness from the white stone by the stain of time, +is surely both beautiful and pure; and as long as the renaissance +ornament remained in such forms it may be beheld with +undeserved admiration. But the moment that unnatural objects +were associated with these, and armor, and musical instruments, +and wild meaningless scrolls and curled shields, and +other such fancies, became principal in its subjects, its doom +was sealed, and with it that of the architecture of the world.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 551px;"> +<img src="images/i155.png" width="551" height="965" alt="PLATE XI." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE XI.—(Page 131—Vol. V.)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Balcony in the Campo, St. Benedetto, Venice.</span></span> +</div> + + +<p>XXXV. III. Our final inquiry was to be into the use of +color as associated with architectural ornament.</p> + +<p>I do not feel able to speak with any confidence respecting +the touching of <i>sculpture</i> with color. I would only note one +point, that sculpture is the representation of an idea, while +architecture is itself a real thing. The idea may, as I think, +be left colorless, and colored by the beholder's mind: but a +reality ought to have reality in all its attributes: its color +should be as fixed as its form. I cannot, therefore, consider +architecture as in any wise perfect without color. Farther, as +I have above noticed, I think the colors of architecture should +be those of natural stones; partly because more durable, but +also because more perfect and graceful. For to conquer the +harshness and deadness of tones laid upon stone or on gesso, +needs the management and discretion of a true painter; and +on this co-operation we must not calculate in laying down rules +for general practice. If Tintoret or Giorgione are at hand, +and ask us for a wall to paint, we will alter our whole design<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +for their sake, and become their servants; but we must, as +architects, expect the aid of the common workman only; and +the laying of color by a mechanical hand, and its toning under +a vulgar eye, are far more offensive than rudeness in cutting the +stone. The latter is imperfection only; the former deadness +or discordance. At the best, such color is so inferior to the +lovely and mellow hues of the natural stone, that it is wise to +sacrifice some of the intricacy of design, if by so doing we +may employ the nobler material. And if, as we looked to +Nature for instruction respecting form, we look to her also to +learn the management of color, we shall, perhaps, find that this +sacrifice of intricacy is for other causes expedient.</p> + +<p>XXXVI. First, then, I think that in making this reference +we are to consider our building as a kind of organized creature; +in coloring which we must look to the single and separately +organized creatures of Nature, not to her landscape +combinations. Our building, if it is well composed, is one +thing, and is to be colored as Nature would color one thing—a +shell, a flower, or an animal; not as she colors groups of +things.</p> + +<p>And the first broad conclusion we shall deduce from observance +of natural color in such cases will be, that it never follows +form, but is arranged on an entirely separate system. +What mysterious connection there may be between the shape +of the spots on an animal's skin and its anatomical system, I +do not know, nor even if such a connection has in any wise +been traced: but to the eye the systems are entirely separate, +and in many cases that of color is accidentally variable. The +stripes of a zebra do not follow the lines of its body or limbs, +still less the spots of a leopard. In the plumage of birds, +each feather bears a part of the pattern which is arbitrarily +carried over the body, having indeed certain graceful harmonies +with the form, diminishing or enlarging in directions +which sometimes follow, but also not unfrequently oppose, the +directions of its muscular lines. Whatever harmonies there +may be, are distinctly like those of two separate musical parts, +coinciding here and there only—never discordant, but essentially +different I hold this, then, for the first great principle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +of architectural color. Let it be visibly independent of form. +Never paint a column with vertical lines, but always cross it.<a href="#NOTE_XIII" class="fnanchor">13</a> +Never give separate mouldings separate colors (I know this is +heresy, but I never shrink from any conclusions, however contrary +to human authority, to which I am led by observance of +natural principles); and in sculptured ornaments I do not +paint the leaves or figures (I cannot help the Elgin frieze) of +one color and their ground of another, but vary both the +ground and the figures with the same harmony. Notice how +Nature does it in a variegated flower; not one leaf red and +another white, but a point of red and a zone of white, or whatever +it may be, to each. In certain places you may run your +two systems closer, and here and there let them be parallel for +a note or two, but see that the colors and the forms coincide +only as two orders of mouldings do; the same for an instant, +but each holding its own course. So single members may +sometimes have single colors: as a bird's head is sometimes +of one color and its shoulders another, you may make your +capital of one color and your shaft another; but in general +the best place for color is on broad surfaces, not on the points +of interest in form. An animal is mottled on its breast and +back, rarely on its paws or about its eyes; so put your variegation +boldly on the flat wall and broad shaft, but be shy of +it in the capital and moulding; in all cases it is a safe rule to +simplify color when form is rich, and vice versâ; and I think +it would be well in general to carve all capitals and graceful +ornaments in white marble, and so leave them.</p> + +<p>XXXVII. Independence then being first secured, what kind +of limiting outlines shall we adopt for the system of color +itself?</p> + +<p>I am quite sure that any person familiar with natural objects +will never be surprised at any appearance of care or finish +in them. That is the condition of the universe. But there is +cause both for surprise and inquiry whenever we see anything +like carelessness or incompletion: that is not a common condition; +it must be one appointed for some singular purpose. I +believe that such surprise will be forcibly felt by any one who, +after studying carefully the lines of some variegated organic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +form, will set himself to copy with similar diligence those of +its colors. The boundaries of the forms he will assuredly, +whatever the object, have found drawn with a delicacy and +precision which no human hand can follow. Those of its +colors he will find in many cases, though governed always by +a certain rude symmetry, yet irregular, blotched, imperfect, +liable to all kinds of accidents and awkwardnesses. Look at +the tracery of the lines on a camp shell, and see how oddly and +awkwardly its tents are pitched. It is not indeed always so: +there is occasionally, as in the eye of the peacock's plume, an +apparent precision, but still a precision far inferior to that of +the drawing of the filaments which bear that lovely stain; and +in the plurality of cases a degree of looseness and variation, +and, still more singularly, of harshness and violence in arrangement, +is admitted in color which would be monstrous in form. +Observe the difference in the precision of a fish's scales and of +the spots on them.</p> + +<p>XXXVIII. Now, why it should be that color is best seen +under these circumstances I will not here endeavor to determine; +nor whether the lesson we are to learn from it be that +it is God's will that all manner of delights should never be +combined in one thing. But the fact is certain, that color is +always by Him arranged in these simple or rude forms, and as +certain that, therefore, it must be best seen in them, and that +we shall never mend by refining its arrangements. Experience +teaches us the same thing. Infinite nonsense has been written +about the union of perfect color with perfect form. They never +will, never can be united. Color, to be perfect, <i>must</i> have a +soft outline or a simple one: it cannot have a refined one; +and you will never produce a good painted window with good +figure-drawing in it. You will lose perfection of color as you +give perfection of line. Try to put in order and form the +colors of a piece of opal.</p> + +<p>XXXIX. I conclude, then, that all arrangements of color, +for its own sake, in graceful forms, are barbarous; and that, +to paint a color pattern with the lovely lines of a Greek leaf +moulding, is an utterly savage procedure. I cannot find anything +in natural color like this: it is not in the bond. I find<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +it in all natural form—never in natural color. If, then, our +architectural color is to be beautiful as its form was, by being +imitative, we are limited to these conditions—to simple +masses of it, to zones, as in the rainbow and the zebra; +cloudings and flamings, as in marble shells and plumage, or +spots of various shapes and dimensions. All these conditions +are susceptible of various degrees of sharpness and delicacy, +and of complication in arrangement. The zone may become +a delicate line, and arrange itself in chequers and zig-zags. +The flaming may be more or less defined, as on a tulip leaf, +and may at last be represented by a triangle of color, and +arrange itself in stars or other shapes; the spot may be also +graduated into a stain, or defined into a square or circle. The +most exquisite harmonies may be composed of these simple +elements: some soft and full of flushed and melting spaces +of color; others piquant and sparkling, or deep and rich, +formed of close groups of the fiery fragments: perfect and +lovely proportion may be exhibited in the relation of their +quantities, infinite invention in their disposition: but, in all +cases, their shape will be effective only as it determines their +quantity, and regulates their operation on each other; points +or edges of one being introduced between breadths of others, +and so on. Triangular and barred forms are therefore convenient, +or others the simplest possible; leaving the pleasure +of the spectator to be taken in the color, and in that only. +Curved outlines, especially if refined, deaden the color, and +confuse the mind. Even in figure painting the greatest +colorists have either melted their outline away, as often +Correggio and Rubens; or purposely made their masses of ungainly +shape, as Titian; or placed their brightest hues in costume, +where they could get quaint patterns, as Veronese, and +especially Angelico, with whom, however, the absolute virtue +of color is secondary to grace of line. Hence, he never uses +the blended hues of Correggio, like those on the wing of the +little Cupid, in the "Venus and Mercury," but always the +severest type—the peacock plume. Any of these men would +have looked with infinite disgust upon the leafage and scrollwork +which form the ground of color in our modern painted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +windows, and yet all whom I have named were much infected +with the love of renaissance designs. We must also allow for +the freedom of the painter's subject, and looseness of his +associated lines; a pattern being severe in a picture, which is +over luxurious upon a building. I believe, therefore, that it +is impossible to be over quaint or angular in architectural +coloring; and thus many dispositions which I have had occasion +to reprobate in form, are, in color, the best that can be +invented. I have always, for instance, spoken with contempt +of the Tudor style, for this reason, that, having surrendered +all pretence to spaciousness and breadth,—having divided its +surfaces by an infinite number of lines, it yet sacrifices the +only characters which can make lines beautiful; sacrifices all +the variety and grace which long atoned for the caprice of +the Flamboyant, and adopts, for its leading feature, an entanglement +of cross bars and verticals, showing about as much +invention or skill of design as the reticulation of the bricklayer's +sieve. Yet this very reticulation would in color be +highly beautiful; and all the heraldry, and other features +which, in form, are monstrous, may be delightful as themes +of color (so long as there are no fluttering or over-twisted +lines in them); and this observe, because, when colored, they +take the place of a mere pattern, and the resemblance to +nature, which could not be found in their sculptured forms, +is found in their piquant variegation of other surfaces. There +is a beautiful and bright bit of wall painting behind the +Duomo of Verona, composed of coats of arms, whose bearings +are balls of gold set in bars of green (altered blue?) and +white, with cardinal's hats in alternate squares. This is of +course, however, fit only for domestic work. The front of +the Doge's palace at Venice is the purest and most chaste +model that I can name (but one) of the fit application of color +to public buildings. The sculpture and mouldings are all +white; but the wall surface is chequered with marble blocks +of pale rose, the chequers being in no wise harmonized, or +fitted to the forms of the windows; but looking as if the surface +had been completed first, and the windows cut out of it. +In Plate XII. fig. 2 the reader will see two of the patterns<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +used in green and white, on the columns of San Michele of +Lucca, every column having a different design. Both are +beautiful, but the upper one certainly the best. Yet in sculpture +its lines would have been perfectly barbarous, and those +even of the lower not enough refined.</p> + +<p>XL. Restraining ourselves, therefore, to the use of such +simple patterns, so far forth as our color is subordinate either +to architectural structure, or sculptural form, we have yet one +more manner of ornamentation to add to our general means +of effect, monochrome design, the intermediate condition between +coloring and carving. The relations of the entire system +of architectural decoration may then be thus expressed.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>1. Organic form dominant. True, independent sculpture, and +alto-relievo; rich capitals, and mouldings; to be elaborate +in completion of form, not abstract, and either to be left +in pure white marble, or most cautiously touched with +color in points and borders only, in a system not concurrent +with their forms.</p> + +<p>2. Organic form sub-dominant. Basso-relievo or intaglio. To +be more abstract in proportion to the reduction of depth; +to be also more rigid and simple in contour; to be +touched with color more boldly and in an increased degree, +exactly in proportion to the reduced depth and fulness +of form, but still in a system non-concurrent with +their forms.</p> + +<p>3. Organic form abstracted to outline. Monochrome design, +still farther reduced to simplicity of contour, and therefore +admitting for the first time the color to be concurrent +with its outlines; that is to say, as its name imports, +the entire figure to be detached in one color from a +ground of another.</p> + +<p>4. Organic forms entirely lost. Geometrical patterns or variable +cloudings in the most vivid color.</p></div> + +<p>On the opposite side of this scale, ascending from the color +pattern, I would place the various forms of painting which +may be associated with architecture: primarily, and as most<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +fit for such purpose, the mosaic, highly abstract in treatment, +and introducing brilliant color in masses; the Madonna of +Torcello being, as I think, the noblest type of the manner, and +the Baptistery of Parma the richest: next, the purely decorative +fresco, like that of the Arena Chapel; finally, the fresco +becoming principal, as in the Vatican and Sistine. But I cannot, +with any safety, follow the principles of abstraction in +this pictorial ornament; since the noblest examples of it +appear to me to owe their architectural applicability to their +archaic manner; and I think that the abstraction and admirable +simplicity which render them fit media of the most splendid +coloring, cannot be recovered by a voluntary condescension. +The Byzantines themselves would not, I think, if they +could have drawn the figure better, have used it for a color +decoration; and that use, as peculiar to a condition of childhood, +however noble and full of promise, cannot be included +among those modes of adornment which are now legitimate or +even possible. There is a difficulty in the management of the +painted window for the same reason, which has not yet been +met, and we must conquer that first, before we can venture to +consider the wall as a painted window on a large scale. Pictorial +subject, without such abstraction, becomes necessarily +principal, or, at all events, ceases to be the architect's concern; +its plan must be left to the painter after the completion of the +building, as in the works of Veronese and Giorgione on the +palaces of Venice.</p> + +<p>XLI. Pure architectural decoration, then, may be considered +as limited to the four kinds above specified; of which +each glides almost imperceptibly into the other. Thus, the +Elgin frieze is a monochrome in a state of transition to sculpture, +retaining, as I think, the half-cast skin too long. Of +pure monochrome, I have given an example in Plate VI., from +the noble front of St. Michele of Lucca. It contains forty +such arches, all covered with equally elaborate ornaments, entirely +drawn by cutting out their ground to about the depth +of an inch in the flat white marble, and filling the spaces with +pieces of green serpentine; a most elaborate mode of sculpture, +requiring excessive care and precision in the fitting of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +the edges, and of course double work, the same line needing +to be cut both in the marble and serpentine. The excessive simplicity +of the forms will be at once perceived; the eyes of the +figures of animals, for instance, being indicated only by a +round dot, formed by a little inlet circle of serpentine, about +half an inch over: but, though simple, they admit often much +grace of curvature, as in the neck of the bird seen above the +right hand pillar.<a href="#NOTE_XIV" class="fnanchor">14</a> The pieces of serpentine have fallen out +in many places, giving the black shadows, as seen under the +horseman's arm and bird's neck, and in the semi-circular line +round the arch, once filled with some pattern. It would have +illustrated my point better to have restored the lost portions, +but I always draw a thing exactly as it is, hating restoration +of any kind; and I would especially direct the reader's attention +to the completion of the forms in the <i>sculptured</i> ornament +of the marble cornices, as opposed to the abstraction of +the monochrome figures, of the ball and cross patterns between +the arches, and of the triangular ornament round the arch on +the left.</p> + +<p>XLII. I have an intense love for these monochrome figures, +owing to their wonderful life and spirit in all the works on +which I found them; nevertheless, I believe that the excessive +degree of abstraction which they imply necessitates our +placing them in the rank of a progressive or imperfect art, +and that a perfect building should rather be composed of the +highest sculpture (organic form dominant and sub-dominant), +associated with pattern colors on the flat or broad surfaces. +And we find, in fact, that the cathedral of Pisa, which is a +higher type than that of Lucca, exactly follows this condition, +the color being put in geometrical patterns on its surfaces, +and animal-forms and lovely leafage used in the sculptured +cornices and pillars. And I think that the grace of the carved +forms is best seen when it is thus boldly opposed to severe +traceries of color, while the color itself is, as we have seen, +always most piquant when it is put into sharp angular arrangements. +Thus the sculpture is approved and set off by the +color, and the color seen to the best advantage in its opposition +both to the whiteness and the grace of the carved marble.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>XLIII. In the course of this and the preceding chapters, I +have now separately enumerated most of the conditions of +Power and Beauty, which in the outset I stated to be the +grounds of the deepest impressions with which architecture +could affect the human mind; but I would ask permission to +recapitulate them in order to see if there be any building +which I may offer as an example of the unison, in such manner +as is possible, of them all. Glancing back, then, to the +beginning of the third chapter, and introducing in their place +the conditions incidentally determined in the two previous +sections, we shall have the following list of noble characters:</p> + +<p>Considerable size, exhibited by simple terminal lines (Chap. +III. § 6). Projection towards the top (§ 7). Breadth of flat +surface (§ 8). Square compartments of that surface (§ 9). +Varied and visible masonry (§ 11). Vigorous depth of shadow +(§ 13), exhibited especially by pierced traceries (§ 18). Varied +proportion in ascent (Chap. IV. § 28). Lateral symmetry (§ 28). +Sculpture most delicate at the base (Chap. I. § 12). Enriched +quantity of ornament at the top (§ 13). Sculpture abstract in +inferior ornaments and mouldings (Chap. IV. § 31), complete +in animal forms (§ 33). Both to be executed in white marble +(§ 40). Vivid color introduced in flat geometrical patterns +(§ 39), and obtained by the use of naturally colored stone (§ 35).</p> + +<p>These characteristics occur more or less in different buildings, +some in one and some in another. But all together, and +all in their highest possible relative degrees, they exist, as far +as I know, only in one building in the world, the Campanile +of Giotto at Florence. The drawing of the tracery of its +upper story, which heads this chapter, rude as it is, will nevertheless +give the reader some better conception of that tower's +magnificence than the thin outlines in which it is usually +portrayed. In its first appeal to the stranger's eye there is +something unpleasing; a mingling, as it seems to him, of over +severity with over minuteness. But let him give it time, as he +should to all other consummate art. I remember well how, when +a boy, I used to despise that Campanile, and think it meanly +smooth and finished. But I have since lived beside it many a +day, and looked out upon it from my windows by sunlight and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +moonlight, and I shall not soon forget how profound and +gloomy appeared to me the savageness of the Northern Gothic, +when I afterwards stood, for the first time, beneath the front +of Salisbury. The contrast is indeed strange, if it could be +quickly felt, between the rising of those grey walls out of their +quiet swarded space, like dark and barren rocks out of a green +lake, with their rude, mouldering, rough-grained shafts, and +triple lights, without tracery or other ornament than the martins' +nests in the height of them, and that bright, smooth, +sunny surface of glowing jasper, those spiral shafts and fairy +traceries, so white, so faint, so crystalline, that their slight shapes +are hardly traced in darkness on the pallor of the Eastern sky, +that serene height of mountain alabaster, colored like a morning +cloud, and chased like a sea shell. And if this be, as I believe +it, the model and mirror of perfect architecture, is there +not something to be learned by looking back to the early life +of him who raised it? I said that the Power of human mind +had its growth in the Wilderness; much more must the love +and the conception of that beauty, whose every line and hue +we have seen to be, at the best, a faded image of God's daily +work, and an arrested ray of some star of creation, be given +chiefly in the places which He has gladdened by planting there +the fir tree and the pine. Not within the walls of Florence, +but among the far away fields of her lilies, was the child trained +who was to raise that headstone of Beauty above the towers +of watch and war. Remember all that he became; count the +sacred thoughts with which he filled the heart of Italy; ask +those who followed him what they learned at his feet; and when +you have numbered his labors, and received their testimony, if +it seem to you that God had verily poured out upon this His +servant no common nor restrained portion of His Spirit, and +that he was indeed a king among the children of men, remember +also that the legend upon his crown was that of David's:—"I +took thee from the sheepcote, and from following the sheep."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>THE LAMP OF LIFE.</h3> + + +<p>I. Among the countless analogies by which the nature and +relations of the human soul are illustrated in the material +creation, none are more striking than the impressions inseparably +connected with the active and dormant states of matter. +I have elsewhere endeavored to show, that no inconsiderable +part of the essential characters of Beauty depended on the +expression of vital energy in organic things, or on the subjection +to such energy, of things naturally passive and powerless. +I need not here repeat, of what was then advanced, more than +the statement which I believe will meet with general acceptance, +that things in other respects alike, as in their substance, +or uses, or outward forms, are noble or ignoble in proportion +to the fulness of the life which either they themselves enjoy, +or of whose action they bear the evidence, as sea sands are +made beautiful by their bearing the seal of the motion of the +waters. And this is especially true of all objects which bear +upon them the impress of the highest order of creative life, +that is to say, of the mind of man: they become noble or ignoble +in proportion to the amount of the energy of that mind +which has visibly been employed upon them. But most peculiarly +and imperatively does the rule hold with respect to +the creations of Architecture, which being properly capable +of no other life than this, and being not essentially composed +of things pleasant in themselves,—as music of sweet sounds, +or painting of fair colors, but of inert substance,—depend, +for their dignity and pleasurableness in the utmost degree, +upon the vivid expression of the intellectual life which has +been concerned in their production.</p> + +<p>II. Now in all other kind of energies except that of man's +mind, there is no question as to what is life, and what is not. +Vital sensibility, whether vegetable or animal, may, indeed, be +reduced to so great feebleness, as to render its existence a +matter of question, but when it is evident at all, it is evident<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +as such: there is no mistaking any imitation or pretence of it +for the life itself; no mechanism nor galvanism can take its +place; nor is any resemblance of it so striking as to involve +even hesitation in the judgment; although many occur which +the human imagination takes pleasure in exalting, without for +an instant losing sight of the real nature of the dead things it +animates; but rejoicing rather in its own excessive life, which +puts gesture into clouds, and joy into waves, and voices into +rocks.</p> + +<p>III. But when we begin to be concerned with the energies +of man, we find ourselves instantly dealing with a double creature. +Most part of his being seems to have a fictitious counterpart, +which it is at his peril if he do not cast off and deny. +Thus he has a true and false (otherwise called a living and +dead, or a feigned or unfeigned) faith. He has a true and a +false hope, a true and a false charity, and, finally, a true and a +false life. His true life is like that of lower organic beings, +the independent force by which he moulds and governs external +things; it is a force of assimilation which converts everything +around him into food, or into instruments; and which, +however humbly or obediently it may listen to or follow the +guidance of superior intelligence, never forfeits its own +authority as a judging principle, as a will capable either of +obeying or rebelling. His false life is, indeed, but one of the +conditions of death or stupor, but it acts, even when it cannot +be said to animate, and is not always easily known from the +true. It is that life of custom and accident in which many of +us pass much of our time in the world; that life in which we +do what we have not purposed, and speak what we do not +mean, and assent to what we do not understand; that life +which is overlaid by the weight of things external to it, and is +moulded by them, instead of assimilating them; that, which +instead of growing and blossoming under any wholesome dew, +is crystallised over with it, as with hoar frost, and becomes to +the true life what an arborescence is to a tree, a candied +agglomeration of thoughts and habits foreign to it, brittle, +obstinate, and icy, which can neither bend nor grow, but +must be crushed and broken to bits, if it stand in our way.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +All men are liable to be in some degree frost-bitten in this +sort; all are partly encumbered and crusted over with idle +matter; only, if they have real life in them, they are always +breaking this bark away in noble rents, until it becomes, like +the black strips upon the birch tree, only a witness of their +own inward strength. But, with all the efforts that the best +men make, much of their being passes in a kind of dream, in +which they indeed move, and play their parts sufficiently, to +the eyes of their fellow-dreamers, but have no clear consciousness +of what is around them, or within them; blind to the +one, insensible to the other, νωθροι. I would not press the +definition into its darker application to the dull heart and +heavy ear; I have to do with it only as it refers to the too frequent +condition of natural existence, whether of nations or individuals, +settling commonly upon them in proportion to their +age. The life of a nation is usually, like the flow of a lava +stream, first bright and fierce, then languid and covered, at +last advancing only by the tumbling over and over of its frozen +blocks. And that last condition is a sad one to look upon. +All the steps are marked most clearly in the arts, and in Architecture +more than in any other; for it, being especially dependent, +as we have just said, on the warmth of the true life, +is also peculiarly sensible of the hemlock cold of the false; +and I do not know anything more oppressive, when the mind +is once awakened to its characteristics, than the aspect of a +dead architecture. The feebleness of childhood is full of +promise and of interest,—the struggle of imperfect knowledge +full of energy and continuity,—but to see impotence and rigidity +settling upon the form of the developed man; to see +the types which once had the die of thought struck fresh +upon them, worn flat by over use; to see the shell of the +living creature in its adult form, when its colors are faded, +and its inhabitant perished,—this is a sight more humiliating, +more melancholy, than the vanishing of all knowledge, +and the return to confessed and helpless infancy.</p> + +<p>Nay, it is to be wished that such return were always possible. +There would be hope if we could change palsy into +puerility; but I know not how far we can become children<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +again, and renew our lost life. The stirring which has taken +place in our architectural aims and interests within these few +years, is thought by many to be full of promise: I trust it is, +but it has a sickly look to me. I cannot tell whether it be +indeed a springing of seed or a shaking among bones; and I +do not think the time will be lost which I ask the reader to +spend in the inquiry, how far all that we have hitherto ascertained +or conjectured to be the best in principle, may be formally +practised without the spirit or the vitality which alone +could give it influence, value, or delightfulness.</p> + +<p>IV. Now, in the first place—and this is rather an important +point—it is no sign of deadness in a present art that it borrows +or imitates, but only if it borrows without paying interest, or +if it imitates without choice. The art of a great nation, which +is developed without any acquaintance with nobler examples +than its own early efforts furnish, exhibits always the most +consistent and comprehensible growth, and perhaps is regarded +usually as peculiarly venerable in its self-origination. +But there is something to my mind more majestic yet in the +life of an architecture like that of the Lombards, rude and infantine +in itself, and surrounded by fragments of a nobler art +of which it is quick in admiration and ready in imitation, and +yet so strong in its own new instincts that it re-constructs and +re-arranges every fragment that it copies or borrows into harmony +with its own thoughts,—a harmony at first disjointed +and awkward, but completed in the end, and fused into perfect +organisation; all the borrowed elements being subordinated +to its own primal, unchanged life. I do not know any +sensation more exquisite than the discovering of the evidence +of this magnificent struggle into independent existence; the +detection of the borrowed thoughts, nay, the finding of the actual +blocks and stones carved by other hands and in other ages, +wrought into the new walls, with a new expression and purpose +given to them, like the blocks of unsubdued rocks (to go back +to our former simile) which we find in the heart of the lava +current, great witnesses to the power which has fused all but +those calcined fragments into the mass of its homogeneous +fire.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>V. It will be asked, How is imitation to be rendered healthy +and vital? Unhappily, while it is easy to enumerate the signs +of life, it is impossible to define or to communicate life; and +while every intelligent writer on Art has insisted on the difference +between the copying found in an advancing or recedent +period, none have been able to communicate, in the slightest +degree, the force of vitality to the copyist over whom they +might have influence. Yet it is at least interesting, if not +profitable, to note that two very distinguishing characters of +vital imitation are, its Frankness and its Audacity; its Frankness +is especially singular; there is never any effort to conceal +the degree of the sources of its borrowing. Raffaelle +carries off a whole figure from Masaccio, or borrows an entire +composition from Perugino, with as much tranquillity and +simplicity of innocence as a young Spartan pickpocket; and +the architect of a Romanesque basilica gathered his columns +and capitals where he could find them, as an ant picks up +sticks. There is at least a presumption, when we find this +frank acceptance, that there is a sense within the mind of +power capable of transforming and renewing whatever it +adopts; and too conscious, too exalted, to fear the accusation +of plagiarism,—too certain that it can prove, and has proved, +its independence, to be afraid of expressing its homage to +what it admires in the most open and indubitable way; and +the necessary consequence of this sense of power is the other +sign I have named—the Audacity of treatment when it finds +treatment necessary, the unhesitating and sweeping sacrifice +of precedent where precedent becomes inconvenient. For instance, +in the characteristic forms of Italian Romanesque, in +which the hypaethral portion of the heathen temple was replaced +by the towering nave, and where, in consequence, the +pediment of the west front became divided into three portions, +of which the central one, like the apex of a ridge of sloping +strata lifted by a sudden fault, was broken away from and +raised above the wings; there remained at the extremities of +the aisles two triangular fragments of pediment, which could +not now be filled by any of the modes of decoration adapted +for the unbroken space; and the difficulty became greater<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +when the central portion of the front was occupied by columnar +ranges, which could not, without painful abruptness, terminate +short of the extremities of the wings. I know not +what expedient would have been adopted by architects who +had much respect for precedent, under such circumstances, +but it certainly would not have been that of the Pisan,—to +continue the range of columns into the pedimental space, +shortening them to its extremity until the shaft of the last +column vanished altogether, and there remained only its <i>capital</i> +resting in the angle on its basic plinth. I raise no question +at present whether this arrangement be graceful or otherwise; +I allege it only as an instance of boldness almost without +a parallel, casting aside every received principle that stood in +its way, and struggling through every discordance and difficulty +to the fulfilment of its own instincts.</p> + +<p>VI. Frankness, however, is in itself no excuse for repetition, +nor audacity for innovation, when the one is indolent and the +other unwise. Nobler and surer signs of vitality must be +sought,—signs independent alike of the decorative or original +character of the style, and constant in every style that is determinedly +progressive.</p> + +<p>Of these, one of the most important I believe to be a certain +neglect or contempt of refinement in execution, or, at all +events, a visible subordination of execution to conception, +commonly involuntary, but not unfrequently intentional. +This is a point, however, on which, while I speak confidently, +I must at the same time reservedly and carefully, as there +would otherwise be much chance of my being dangerously +misunderstood. It has been truly observed and well stated +by Lord Lindsay, that the best designers of Italy were also +the most careful in their workmanship; and that the stability +and finish of their masonry, mosaic, or other work whatsoever, +were always perfect in proportion to the apparent improbability +of the great designers condescending to the care of details +among us so despised. Not only do I fully admit and re-assert +this most important fact, but I would insist upon perfect +and most delicate finish in its right place, as a characteristic +of all the highest schools of architecture, as much as it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +those of painting. But on the other hand, as perfect finish +belongs to the perfected art, a progressive finish belongs to +progressive art; and I do not think that any more fatal sign +of a stupor or numbness settling upon that undeveloped art +could possibly be detected, than that it had been <i>taken aback</i> +by its own execution, and that the workmanship had gone +ahead of the design; while, even in my admission of absolute +finish in the right place, as an attribute of the perfected +school, I must reserve to myself the right of answering in my +own way the two very important questions, what <i>is</i> finish? +and what <i>is</i> its right place?</p> + +<p>VII. But in illustrating either of these points, we must +remember that the correspondence of workmanship with +thought is, in existent examples, interfered with by the adoption +of the designs of an advanced period by the workmen of +a rude one. All the beginnings of Christian architecture are +of this kind, and the necessary consequence is of course an +increase of the visible interval between the power of realisation +and the beauty of the idea. We have at first an imitation, +almost savage in its rudeness, of a classical design; as +the art advances, the design is modified by a mixture of +Gothic grotesqueness, and the execution more complete, until +a harmony is established between the two, in which balance +they advance to new perfection. Now during the whole +period in which the ground is being recovered, there will be +found in the living architecture marks not to be mistaken, of +intense impatience; a struggle towards something unattained, +which causes all minor points of handling to be neglected; +and a restless disdain of all qualities which appear either to +confess contentment or to require a time and care which +might be better spent. And, exactly as a good and earnest +student of drawing will not lose time in ruling lines or finishing +backgrounds about studies which, while they have answered +his immediate purpose, he knows to be imperfect and +inferior to what he will do hereafter,—so the vigor of a true +school of early architecture, which is either working under +the influence of high example or which is itself in a state of +rapid development, is very curiously traceable, among other +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +signs, in the contempt of exact symmetry and measurement, +which in dead architecture are the most painful necessities.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 580px;"> +<img src="images/i175.png" width="580" height="1000" alt="PLATE XII." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE XII.—(Page 149—Vol. V.)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Fragments From Abbeville, Lucca, Venice, and Pisa.</span></span> +</div> + +<p>VIII. In Plate XII. fig. 1 I have given a most singular instance +both of rude execution and defied symmetry, in the +little pillar and spandril from a panel decoration under the +pulpit of St. Mark's at Venice. The imperfection (not merely +simplicity, but actual rudeness and ugliness) of the leaf ornament +will strike the eye at once: this is general in works of +the time, but it is not so common to find a capital which has +been so carelessly cut; its imperfect volutes being pushed up +one side far higher than on the other, and contracted on that +side, an additional drill hole being put in to fill the space; +besides this, the member <i>a</i>, of the mouldings, is a roll where +it follows the arch, and a flat fillet at <i>a</i>; the one being slurred +into the other at the angle <i>b</i>, and finally stopped short altogether +at the other side by the most uncourteous and remorseless +interference of the outer moulding: and in spite of +all this, the grace, proportion, and feeling of the whole arrangement +are so great, that, in its place, it leaves nothing to +be desired; all the science and symmetry in the world could +not beat it. In fig. 4 I have endeavored to give some idea of +the execution of the subordinate portions of a much higher +work, the pulpit of St. Andrea at Pistoja, by Nicolo Pisano. +It is covered with figure sculptures, executed with great care +and delicacy; but when the sculptor came to the simple arch +mouldings, he did not choose to draw the eye to them by over +precision of work or over sharpness of shadow. The section +adopted, <i>k</i>, <i>m</i>, is peculiarly simple, and so slight and obtuse +in its recessions as never to produce a sharp line; and it is +worked with what at first appears slovenliness, but it is in fact +sculptural <i>sketching</i>; exactly correspondent to a painter's +light execution of a background: the lines appear and disappear +again, are sometimes deep, sometimes shallow, sometimes +quite broken off; and the recession of the cusp joins that of +the external arch at <i>n</i>, in the most fearless defiance of all +mathematical laws of curvilinear contact.</p> + +<p>IX. There is something very delightful in this bold expression +of the mind of the great master. I do not say that it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +the "perfect work" of patience, but I think that impatience +is a glorious character in an advancing school; and I love the +Romanesque and early Gothic especially, because they afford +so much room for it; accidental carelessness of measurement +or of execution being mingled undistinguishably with the +purposed departures from symmetrical regularity, and the +luxuriousness of perpetually variable fancy, which are eminently +characteristic of both styles. How great, how frequent +they are, and how brightly the severity of architectural +law is relieved by their grace and suddenness, has not, I +think, been enough observed; still less, the unequal measurements +of even important features professing to be absolutely +symmetrical. I am not so familiar with modern practice +as to speak with confidence respecting its ordinary +precision; but I imagine that the following measures of the +western front of the cathedral of Pisa, would be looked upon +by present architects as very blundering approximations. +That front is divided into seven arched compartments, of +which the second, fourth or central, and sixth contain doors; +the seven are in a most subtle alternating proportion; the +central being the largest, next to it the second and sixth, then +the first and seventh, lastly the third and fifth. By this arrangement, +of course, these three pairs should be equal; and +they are so to the eye, but I found their actual measures to +be the following, taken from pillar to pillar, in Italian braccia, +palmi (four inches each), and inches:—</p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'></td><th>Braccia.</th><th>Palmi.</th><th>Inches.</th><th>Total in inches.</th></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>1. Central door</td><td align='left'>8</td><td align='left'>0</td><td align='left'>0</td><td align='left'>= 192</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>2. Northern door</td><td align='left'>6</td><td align='left'>3</td><td align='left'>1½</td><td align='left'>= 157½</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>3. Southern door</td><td align='left'>6</td><td align='left'>4</td><td align='left'>3</td><td align='left'>= 163</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>4. Extreme northern space</td><td align='left'>5</td><td align='left'>5</td><td align='left'>3½</td><td align='left'>= 143½</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>5. Extreme southern space</td><td align='left'>6</td><td align='left'>1</td><td align='left'>0½</td><td align='left'>= 148½</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>6. Northern intervals between the doors</td><td align='left'>5</td><td align='left'>2</td><td align='left'>1</td><td align='left'>= 129</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>7. Southern intervals between the doors</td><td align='left'>5</td><td align='left'>2</td><td align='left'>1½</td><td align='left'>= 129½</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>There is thus a difference, severally, between 2, 3 and 4, 5, +of five inches and a half in the one case, and five inches in the +other.</p> + +<p>X. This, however, may perhaps be partly attributable to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +some accommodation of the accidental distortions which evidently +took place in the walls of the cathedral during their +building, as much as in those of the campanile. To my mind, +those of the Duomo are far the most wonderful of the two: I +do not believe that a single pillar of its walls is absolutely +vertical: the pavement rises and falls to different heights, or +rather the plinth of the walls sinks into it continually to different +depths, the whole west front literally overhangs (I have +not plumbed it; but the inclination may be seen by the eye, +by bringing it into visual contact with the upright pilasters of +the Campo Santo): and a most extraordinary distortion in +the masonry of the southern wall shows that this inclination +had begun when the first story was built. The cornice above +the first arcade of that wall touches the tops of eleven out of +its fifteen arches; but it suddenly leaves the tops of the four +westernmost; the arches nodding westward and sinking into +the ground, while the cornice rises (or seems to rise), leaving +at any rate, whether by the rise of the one or the fall of the +other, an interval of more than two feet between it and the +top of the western arch, filled by added courses of masonry. +There is another very curious evidence of this struggle of the +architect with his yielding wall in the columns of the main +entrance. (These notices are perhaps somewhat irrelevant to +our immediate subject, but they appear to me highly interesting; +and they, at all events, prove one of the points on which +I would insist,—how much of imperfection and variety in +things professing to be symmetrical the eyes of those eager +builders could endure: they looked to loveliness in detail, to +nobility in the whole, never to petty measurements.) Those +columns of the principal entrance are among the loveliest in +Italy; cylindrical, and decorated with a rich arabesque of +sculptured foliage, which at the base extends nearly all round +them, up to the black pilaster in which they are lightly engaged: +but the shield of foliage, bounded by a severe line, +narrows to their tops, where it covers their frontal segment +only; thus giving, when laterally seen, a terminal line sloping +boldly outwards, which, as I think, was meant to conceal the +accidental leaning of the western walls, and, by its exagger<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>ated +inclination in the same direction, to throw them by comparison +into a seeming vertical.</p> + +<p>XI. There is another very curious instance of distortion +above the central door of the west front. All the intervals between +the seven arches are filled with black marble, each containing +in its centre a white parallelogram filled with animal +mosaics, and the whole surmounted by a broad white band, +which, generally, does not touch the parallelogram below. +But the parallelogram on the north of the central arch has +been forced into an oblique position, and touches the white +band; and, as if the architect was determined to show that +he did not care whether it did or not, the white band suddenly +gets thicker at that place, and remains so over the two next +arches. And these differences are the more curious because +the workmanship of them all is most finished and masterly, +and the distorted stones are fitted with as much neatness as +if they tallied to a hair's breadth. There is no look of slurring +or blundering about it; it is all coolly filled in, as if the +builder had no sense of anything being wrong or extraordinary: +I only wish we had a little of his impudence.</p> + +<p>XII. Still, the reader will say that all these variations are +probably dependent more on the bad foundation than on the +architect's feeling. Not so the exquisite delicacies of change +in the proportions and dimensions of the apparently symmetrical +arcades of the west front. It will be remembered that +I said the tower of Pisa was the only ugly tower in Italy, +because its tiers were equal, or nearly so, in height; a fault +this, so contrary to the spirit of the builders of the time, that +it can be considered only as an unlucky caprice. Perhaps the +general aspect of the west front of the cathedral may then +have occurred to the reader's mind, as seemingly another contradiction +of the rule I had advanced. It would not have been +so, however, even had its four upper arcades been actually +equal; as they are subordinated to the great seven-arched +lower story, in the manner before noticed respecting the spire +of Salisbury, and as is actually the case in the Duomo of Lucca +and Tower of Pistoja. But the Pisan front is far more subtly +proportioned. Not one of its four arcades is of like height<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +with another. The highest is the third, counting upwards; +and they diminish in nearly arithmetical proportion alternately; +in the order 3rd, 1st, 2nd, 4th. The inequalities in +their arches are not less remarkable: they at first strike the +eye as all equal; but there is a grace about them which +equality never obtained: on closer observation, it is perceived +that in the first row of nineteen arches, eighteen are equal, +and the central one larger than the rest; in the second arcade, +the nine central arches stand over the nine below, having, like +them, the ninth central one largest. But on their flanks, where +is the slope of the shoulder-like pediment, the arches vanish, +and a wedge-shaped frieze takes their place, tapering outwards, +in order to allow the columns to be carried to the extremity of +the pediment; and here, where the heights of the shafts are +so far shortened, they are set thicker; five shafts, or rather +four and a capital, above, to four of the arcade below, giving +twenty-one intervals instead of nineteen. In the next or third +arcade,—which, remember, is the highest,—eight arches, all +equal, are given in the space of the nine below, so that there +is now a central shaft instead of a central arch, and the span +of the arches is increased in proportion to their increased +height. Finally, in the uppermost arcade, which is the lowest +of all, the arches, the same in number as those below, are +narrower than any of the façade; the whole eight going very +nearly above the six below them, while the terminal arches of +the lower arcade are surmounted by flanking masses of decorated +wall with projecting figures.</p> + +<p>XIV. Now I call <i>that</i> Living Architecture. There is sensation +in every inch of it, and an accommodation to every +architectural necessity, with a determined variation in arrangement, +which is exactly like the related proportions and +provisions in the structure of organic form. I have not space +to examine the still lovelier proportioning of the external shafts +of the apse of this marvellous building. I prefer, lest the +reader should think it a peculiar example, to state the structure +of another church, the most graceful and grand piece of +Romanesque work, as a fragment, in north Italy, that of San +Giovanni Evangelista at Pistoja.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>The side of that church has three stories of arcade, diminishing +in height in bold geometrical proportion, while the +arches, for the most part, increase in number in arithmetical, +<i>i. e.</i> two in the second arcade, and three in the third, to one +in the first. Lest, however, this arrangement should be too +formal, of the fourteen arches in the lowest series, that +which contains the door is made larger than the rest, and is +not in the middle, but the sixth from the West, leaving five on +one side and eight on the other. Farther: this lowest arcade +is terminated by broad flat pilasters, about half the width of +its arches; but the arcade above is continuous; only the two +extreme arches at the west end are made larger than all the +rest, and instead of coming, as they should, into the space of +the lower extreme arch, take in both it and its broad pilaster. +Even this, however, was not out of order enough to satisfy the +architect's eye; for there were still two arches above to each +single one below: so at the east end, where there are more +arches, and the eye might be more easily cheated, what does +he do but <i>narrow</i> the two extreme <i>lower</i> arches by half a +braccio; while he at the same time slightly enlarged the +upper ones, so as to get only seventeen upper to nine lower, +instead of eighteen to nine. The eye is thus thoroughly confused, +and the whole building thrown into one mass, by the +curious variations in the adjustments of the superimposed +shafts, not one of which is either exactly in nor positively out +of its place; and, to get this managed the more cunningly, +there is from an inch to an inch and a half of gradual gain in +the space of the four eastern arches, besides the confessed +half braccio. Their measures, counting from the east, I found +as follows:—</p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'></td><th>Braccia.</th><th>Palmi.</th><th>Inches.</th></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>1st</td><td align='center'>3</td><td align='center'>0</td><td align='center'>1</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>2nd</td><td align='center'>3</td><td align='center'>0</td><td align='center'>2</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>3rd</td><td align='center'>3</td><td align='center'>3</td><td align='center'>2</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>4th</td><td align='center'>3</td><td align='center'>3</td><td align='center'>3½</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>The upper arcade is managed on the same principle; it +looks at first as if there were three arches to each under pair; +but there are, in reality, only thirty-eight (or thirty-seven, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +am not quite certain of this number) to the twenty-seven below; +and the columns get into all manner of relative positions. +Even then, the builder was not satisfied, but must +needs carry the irregularity into the spring of the arches, +and actually, while the general effect is of a symmetrical +arcade, there is not one of the arches the same in height as +another; their tops undulate all along the wall like waves +along a harbor quay, some nearly touching the string course +above, and others falling from it as much as five or six +inches.</p> + +<p>XIV. Let us next examine the plan of the west front of St. +Mark's at Venice, which, though in many respects imperfect, +is in its proportions, and as a piece of rich and fantastic color, +as lovely a dream as ever filled human imagination. It may, +perhaps, however, interest the reader to hear one opposite +opinion upon this subject, and after what has been urged in the +preceding pages respecting proportion in general, more especially +respecting the wrongness of balanced cathedral towers +and other regular designs, together with my frequent references +to the Doge's palace, and campanile of St. Mark's, as models +of perfection, and my praise of the former especially as projecting +above its second arcade, the following extracts from +the journal of Wood the architect, written on his arrival +at Venice, may have a pleasing freshness in them, and may +show that I have not been stating principles altogether trite +or accepted.</p> + +<p>"The strange looking church, and the great ugly campanile, +could not be mistaken. The exterior of this church surprises +you by its extreme ugliness, more than by anything else."</p> + +<p>"The Ducal Palace is even more ugly than anything I have +previously mentioned. Considered in detail, I can imagine no +alteration to make it tolerable; but if this lofty wall had been +<i>set back behind</i> the two stories of little arches, it would have +been a very noble production."</p> + +<p>After more observations on "a certain justness of proportion," +and on the appearance of riches and power in the church, +to which he ascribes a pleasing effect, he goes on: "Some persons +are of opinion that irregularity is a necessary part of its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +excellence. I am decidedly of a contrary opinion, and am convinced +that a regular design of the same sort would be far superior. +Let an oblong of good architecture, but not very +showy, conduct to a fine cathedral, which should appear between +<i>two lofty towers</i> and have <i>two obelisks</i> in front, and on +each side of this cathedral let other squares partially open into +the first, and one of these extend down to a harbor or sea +shore, and you would have a scene which might challenge any +thing in existence."</p> + +<p>Why Mr. Wood was unable to enjoy the color of St. Mark's, +or perceive the majesty of the Ducal Palace, the reader will see +after reading the two following extracts regarding the Caracci +and Michael Angelo.</p> + +<p>"The pictures here (Bologna) are to my taste far preferable +to those of Venice, for if the Venetian school surpass in coloring, +and, perhaps, in composition, the Bolognese is decidedly +superior in drawing and expression, and the Caraccis <i>shine here +like Gods</i>."</p> + +<p>"What is it that is so much admired in this artist (M. Angelo)? +Some contend for a grandeur of composition in the +lines and disposition of the figures; this, I confess, I do not +comprehend; yet, while I acknowledge the beauty of certain +forms and proportions in architecture, I cannot consistently +deny that similar merits may exist in painting, though I am +unfortunately unable to appreciate them."</p> + +<p>I think these passages very valuable, as showing the effect +of a contracted knowledge and false taste in painting upon an +architect's understanding of his own art; and especially with +what curious notions, or lack of notions, about proportion, that +art has been sometimes practised. For Mr. Wood is by no +means unintelligent in his observations generally, and his criticisms +on classical art are often most valuable. But those who +love Titian better than the Caracci, and who see something to +admire in Michael Angelo, will, perhaps, be willing to proceed +with me to a charitable examination of St. Mark's. For, although, +the present course of European events affords us some +chance of seeing the changes proposed by Mr. Wood carried +into execution, we may still esteem ourselves fortunate in hav<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>ing +first known how it was left by the builders of the eleventh +century.</p> + +<p>XV. The entire front is composed of an upper and lower +series of arches, enclosing spaces of wall decorated with mosaic, +and supported on ranges of shafts of which, in the lower series +of arches, there is an upper range superimposed on a lower. +Thus we have five vertical divisions of the façade; <i>i.e.</i> two tiers +of shafts, and the arched wall they bear, below; one tier of +shafts, and the arched wall they bear, above. In order, however, +to bind the two main divisions together, the central +lower arch (the main entrance) rises above the level of the +gallery and balustrade which crown the lateral arches.</p> + +<p>The proportioning of the columns and walls of the lower +story is so lovely and so varied, that it would need pages of +description before it could be fully understood; but it may be +generally stated thus: The height of the lower shafts, upper +shafts, and wall, being severally expressed by <i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, and <i>c</i>, then +<i>a</i>:<i>c</i>::<i>c</i>:<i>b</i> (<i>a</i> being the highest); and the diameter of shaft +<i>b</i> is generally to the diameter of shaft <i>a</i> as height <i>b</i> is to height +<i>a</i>, or something less, allowing for the large plinth which diminishes +the apparent height of the upper shaft: and when this is +their proportion of width, one shaft above is put above one +below, with sometimes another upper shaft interposed: but in +the extreme arches a single under shaft bears two upper, proportioned +as truly as the boughs of a tree; that is to say, +the diameter of each upper = 2/3 of lower. There being thus +the three terms of proportion gained in the lower story, the +upper, while it is only divided into two main members, in +order that the whole height may not be divided into an even +number, has the third term added in its pinnacles. So far of +the vertical division. The lateral is still more subtle. There +are seven arches in the lower story; and, calling the central +arch <i>a</i>, and counting to the extremity, they diminish in the +alternate order <i>a</i>, <i>c</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>d</i>. The upper story has five arches, and +two added pinnacles; and these diminish in <i>regular</i> order, the +central being the largest, and the outermost the least. Hence, +while one proportion ascends, another descends, like parts in +music; and yet the pyramidal form is secured for the whole,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +and, which was another great point of attention, none of the +shafts of the upper arches stand over those of the lower.</p> + +<p>XVI. It might have been thought that, by this plan, enough +variety had been secured, but the builder was not satisfied even +thus: for—and this is the point bearing on the present part of +our subject—always calling the central arch <i>a</i>, and the lateral +ones <i>b</i> and <i>c</i> in succession, the northern <i>b</i> and <i>c</i> are considerably +wider than the southern <i>b</i> and <i>c</i>, but the southern <i>d</i> is as +much wider than the northern <i>d</i>, and lower beneath its cornice +besides; and, more than this, I hardly believe that one of the +effectively symmetrical members of the façade is actually symmetrical +with any other. I regret that I cannot state the actual +measures. I gave up the taking them upon the spot, owing to +their excessive complexity, and the embarrassment caused by +the yielding and subsidence of the arches.</p> + +<p>Do not let it be supposed that I imagine the Byzantine +workmen to have had these various principles in their minds as +they built. I believe they built altogether from feeling, and +that it was because they did so, that there is this marvellous +life, changefulness, and subtlety running through their every +arrangement; and that we reason upon the lovely building as +we should upon some fair growth of the trees of the earth, +that know not their own beauty.</p> + +<p>XVII. Perhaps, however, a stranger instance than any I have +yet given, of the daring variation of pretended symmetry, is +found in the front of the Cathedral of Bayeux. It consists of +five arches with steep pediments, the outermost filled, the three +central with doors; and they appear, at first, to diminish in +regular proportion from the principal one in the centre. The +two lateral doors are very curiously managed. The tympana +of their arches are filled with bas-reliefs, in four tiers; in the +lowest tier there is in each a little temple or gate containing +the principal figure (in that on the right, it is the gate of Hades +with Lucifer). This little temple is carried, like a capital, by +an isolated shaft which divides the whole arch at about 2/3 of its +breadth, the larger portion outmost; and in that larger portion +is the inner entrance door. This exact correspondence, in +the treatment of both gates, might lead us to expect a corre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>spondence +in dimension. Not at all. The small inner northern +entrance measures, in English feet and inches, 4 ft. 7 in. from +jamb to jamb, and the southern five feet exactly. Five inches +in five feet is a considerable variation. The outer northern +porch measures, from face shaft to face shaft, 13 ft. 11 in., and +the southern, 14 ft. 6 in.; giving a difference of 7 in. on 14 ½ ft. +There are also variations in the pediment decorations not less +extraordinary.</p> + +<p>XVIII. I imagine I have given instances enough, though I +could multiply them indefinitely, to prove that these variations +are not mere blunders, nor carelessnesses, but the result of a +fixed scorn, if not dislike, of accuracy in measurements; and, in +most cases, I believe, of a determined resolution to work out +an effective symmetry by variations as subtle as those of Nature. +To what lengths this principle was sometimes carried, +we shall see by the very singular management of the towers of +Abbeville. I do not say it is right, still less that it is wrong, +but it is a wonderful proof of the fearlessness of a living architecture; +for, say what we will of it, that Flamboyant of France, +however morbid, was as vivid and intense in its animation as +ever any phase of mortal mind; and it would have lived till +now, if it had not taken to telling lies. I have before noticed +the general difficulty of managing even lateral division, when +it is into two equal parts, unless there be some third reconciling +member. I shall give, hereafter, more examples of the +modes in which this reconciliation is effected in towers with +double lights: the Abbeville architect put his sword to the +knot perhaps rather too sharply. Vexed by the want of unity +between his two windows he literally laid their heads together, +and so distorted their ogee curves, as to leave only one of the +trefoiled panels above, on the inner side, and three on the +outer side of each arch. The arrangement is given in Plate +XII. fig. 3. Associated with the various undulation of flamboyant +curves below, it is in the real tower hardly observed, +while it binds it into one mass in general effect. Granting it, +however, to be ugly and wrong, I like sins of the kind, for the +sake of the courage it requires to commit them. In plate II. +(part of a small chapel attached to the West front of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +Cathedral of St. Lo), the reader will see an instance, from the +same architecture, of a violation of its own principles, for the +sake of a peculiar meaning. If there be any one feature which +the flamboyant architect loved to decorate richly, it was the +niche—it was what the capital is to the Corinthian order; yet +in the case before us there is an ugly beehive put in the place +of the principal niche of the arch. I am not sure if I am right +in my interpretation of its meaning, but I have little doubt +that two figures below, now broken away, once represented +an Annunciation; and on another part of the same cathedral, +I find the descent of the Spirit, encompassed by rays of light, +represented very nearly in the form of the niche in question; +which appears, therefore, to be intended for a representation +of this effulgence, while at the same time it was made a canopy +for the delicate figures below. Whether this was its meaning +or not, it is remarkable as a daring departure from the common +habits of the time.</p> + +<p>XIX. Far more splendid is a license taken with the niche +decoration of the portal of St. Maclou at Rouen. The subject +of the tympanum bas-relief is the Last Judgment, and +the sculpture of the inferno side is carried out with a degree +of power whose fearful grotesqueness I can only describe as +a mingling of the minds of Orcagna and Hogarth. The demons +are perhaps even more awful than Orcagna's; and, in +some of the expressions of debased humanity in its utmost +despair, the English painter is at least equalled. Not less +wild is the imagination which gives fury and fear even to the +placing of the figures. An evil angel, poised on the wing, +drives the condemned troops from before the Judgment seat; +with his left hand he drags behind him a cloud, which is +spreading like a winding-sheet over them all; but they are +urged by him so furiously, that they are driven not merely to +the extreme limit of that scene, which the sculptor confined +elsewhere within the tympanum, but out of the tympanum +and <i>into the niches</i> of the arch; while the flames that follow +them, bent by the blast, as it seems, of the angel's wings, rush +into the niches also, and burst up <i>through their tracery</i>, the +three lowermost niches being represented as all on fire, while, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +instead of their usual vaulted and ribbed ceiling, there is a +demon in the roof of each, with his wings folded over it, grinning +down out of the black shadow.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 888px;"> +<img src="images/i189.png" width="888" height="615" alt="PLATE XIII." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE XIII.—(Page 161—Vol. V.)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Portions of an Arcade on the South Side of the Cathedral of Ferrara.</span></span> +</div> + + +<p>XX. I have, however, given enough instances of vitality +shown in mere daring, whether wise, as surely in this last instance, +or inexpedient; but, as a single example of the Vitality +of Assimilation, the faculty which turns to its purposes all +material that is submitted to it, I would refer the reader to +the extraordinary columns of the arcade on the south side of +the Cathedral of Ferrara. A single arch of it is given in Plate +XIII. on the right. Four such columns forming a group, there +are interposed two pairs of columns, as seen on the left of the +same plate; and then come another four arches. It is a long +arcade of, I suppose, not less than forty arches, perhaps of +many more; and in the grace and simplicity of its stilted Byzantine +curves I hardly know its equal. Its like, in fancy of +column, I certainly do not know; there being hardly two correspondent, +and the architect having been ready, as it seems, +to adopt ideas and resemblances from any sources whatsoever. +The vegetation growing up the two columns is fine, though +bizarre; the distorted pillars beside it suggest images of less +agreeable character; the serpentine arrangements founded on +the usual Byzantine double knot are generally graceful; but +I was puzzled to account for the excessively ugly type of the +pillar, fig. 3, one of a group of four. It so happened, fortunately +for me, that there had been a fair in Ferrara; and, +when I had finished my sketch of the pillar, I had to get out +of the way of some merchants of miscellaneous wares, who +were removing their stall. It had been shaded by an awning +supported by poles, which, in order that the covering might +be raised or lowered according to the height of the sun, were +composed of two separate pieces, fitted to each other by a +<i>rack</i>, in which I beheld the prototype of my ugly pillar. It +will not be thought, after what I have above said of the inexpedience +of imitating anything but natural form, that I advance +this architect's practice as altogether exemplary; yet the +humility is instructive, which condescended to such sources +for motives of thought, the boldness, which could depart so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +far from all established types of form, and the life and feeling, +which out of an assemblage of such quaint and uncouth +materials, could produce an harmonious piece of ecclesiastical +architecture.</p> + +<p>XXI. I have dwelt, however, perhaps, too long upon that +form of vitality which is known almost as much by its errors +as by its atonements for them. We must briefly note the +operation of it, which is always right, and always necessary, +upon those lesser details, where it can neither be superseded +by precedents, nor repressed by proprieties.</p> + +<p>I said, early in this essay, that hand-work might always be +known from machine-work; observing, however, at the same +time, that it was possible for men to turn themselves into machines, +and to reduce their labor to the machine level; but so +long as men work <i>as</i> men, putting their heart into what they +do, and doing their best, it matters not how bad workmen they +may be, there will be that in the handling which is above all +price: it will be plainly seen that some places have been delighted +in more than others—that there has been a pause, and +a care about them; and then there will come careless bits, and +fast bits; and here the chisel will have struck hard, and there +lightly, and anon timidly; and if the man's mind as well as +his heart went with his work, all this will be in the right +places, and each part will set off the other; and the effect of +the whole, as compared with the same design cut by a machine +or a lifeless hand, will be like that of poetry well read and +deeply felt to that of the same verses jangled by rote. There +are many to whom the difference is imperceptible; but to +those who love poetry it is everything—they had rather not +hear it at all, than hear it ill read; and to those who love Architecture, +the life and accent of the hand are everything. +They had rather not have ornament at all, than see it ill cut—deadly +cut, that is. I cannot too often repeat, it is not coarse +cutting, it is not blunt cutting, that is necessarily bad; but it +is cold cutting—the look of equal trouble everywhere—the +smooth, diffused tranquillity of heartless pains—the regularity +of a plough in a level field. The chill is more likely, indeed, +to show itself in finished work than in any other—men cool<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +and tire as they complete: and if completeness is thought to +be vested in polish, and to be attainable by help of sand paper, +we may as well give the work to the engine-lathe at once. But +<i>right</i> finish is simply the full rendering of the intended impression; +and <i>high</i> finish is the rendering of a well intended +and vivid impression; and it is oftener got by rough than fine +handling. I am not sure whether it is frequently enough observed +that sculpture is not the mere cutting of the <i>form</i> of +anything in stone; it is the cutting of the <i>effect</i> of it. Very +often the true form, in the marble, would not be in the least +like itself. The sculptor must paint with his chisel: half his +touches are not to realize, but to put power into the form: they +are touches of light and shadow; and raise a ridge, or sink a +hollow, not to represent an actual ridge or hollow, but to get a +line of light, or a spot of darkness. In a coarse way, this kind +of execution is very marked in old French woodwork; the +irises of the eyes of its chimeric monsters being cut boldly +into holes, which, variously placed, and always dark, give all +kinds of strange and startling expressions, averted and askance, +to the fantastic countenances. Perhaps the highest examples +of this kind of sculpture-painting are the works of Mino da +Fiesole; their best effects being reached by strange angular, +and seemingly rude, touches of the chisel. The lips of one of +the children on the tombs in the church of the Badia, appear +only half finished when they are seen close; yet the expression +is farther carried and more ineffable, than in any piece of marble +I have ever seen, especially considering its delicacy, and the +softness of the child-features. In a sterner kind, that of the +statues in the sacristy of St. Lorenzo equals it, and there again +by incompletion. I know no example of work in which the +forms are absolutely true and complete where such a result is +attained; in Greek sculptures is not even attempted.</p> + +<p>XXII. It is evident that, for architectural appliances, such +masculine handling, likely as it must be to retain its effectiveness +when higher finish would be injured by time, must always +be the most expedient; and as it is impossible, even +were it desirable that the highest finish should be given to +the quantity of work which covers a large building, it will be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +understood how precious the intelligence must become, which +renders incompletion itself a means of additional expression; +and how great must be the difference, when the touches are +rude and few, between those of a careless and those of a regardful +mind. It is not easy to retain anything of their character +in a copy; yet the reader will find one or two illustrative +points in the examples, given in Plate XIV., from the +bas-reliefs of the north of Rouen Cathedral. There are three +square pedestals under the three main niches on each side of +it, and one in the centre; each of these being on two sides +decorated with five quatrefoiled panels. There are thus seventy +quatrefoils in the lower ornament of the gate alone, without +counting those of the outer course round it, and of the +pedestals outside: each quatrefoil is filled with a bas-relief, +the whole reaching to something above a man's height. A +modern architect would, of course, have made all the five +quatrefoils of each pedestal-side equal: not so the Mediæval. +The general form being apparently a quatrefoil composed of +semicircles on the sides of a square, it will be found on examination +that none of the arcs are semicircles, and none of +the basic figures squares. The latter are rhomboids, having +their acute or obtuse angles uppermost according to their +larger or smaller size; and the arcs upon their sides slide +into such places as they can get in the angles of the enclosing +parallelogram, leaving intervals, at each of the four angles, of +various shapes, which are filled each by an animal. The size +of the whole panel being thus varied, the two lowest of the five +are tall, the next two short, and the uppermost a little higher +than the lowest; while in the course of bas-reliefs which surrounds +the gate, calling either of the two lowest (which are +equal), <i>a</i>, and either of the next two <i>b</i>, and the fifth and sixth +<i>c</i> and <i>d</i>, then <i>d</i> (the largest): <i>c</i>::<i>c</i>:<i>a</i>::<i>a</i>:<i>b</i>. It is wonderful +how much of the grace of the whole depends on these variations.</p> + +<p>XXIII. Each of the angles, it was said, is filled by an animal. +There are thus 70 x 4=280 animals, all different, in the +mere fillings of the intervals of the bas-reliefs. Three of these +intervals, with their beasts, actual size, the curves being traced +upon the stone, I have given in Plate XIV.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 579px;"> +<img src="images/i195.png" width="579" height="1017" alt="PLATE XIV." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PLATE XIV.—(Page 165—Vol. V.)<br /> +<span class="smcap">Sculpture from the Cathedral of Rouen.</span></span> +</div> + + +<p>I say nothing of their general design, or of the lines of +the wings and scales, which are perhaps, unless in those of +the central dragon, not much above the usual commonplaces +of good ornamental work; but there is an evidence in the +features of thoughtfulness and fancy which is not common, at +least now-a-days. The upper creature on the left is biting +something, the form of which is hardly traceable in the defaced +stone—but biting he is; and the reader cannot but recognise +in the peculiarly reverted eye the expression which is +never seen, as I think, but in the eye of a dog gnawing something +in jest, and preparing to start away with it: the meaning +of the glance, so far as it can be marked by the mere incision +of the chisel, will be felt by comparing it with the eye +of the couchant figure on the right, in its gloomy and angry +brooding. The plan of this head, and the nod of the cap +over its brow, are fine; but there is a little touch above the +hand especially well meant: the fellow is vexed and puzzled +in his malice; and his hand is pressed hard on his cheek +bone, and the flesh of the cheek is <i>wrinkled</i> under the eye by +the pressure. The whole, indeed, looks wretchedly coarse, +when it is seen on a scale in which it is naturally compared +with delicate figure etchings; but considering it as a mere +filling of an interstice on the outside of a cathedral gate, and +as one of more than three hundred (for in my estimate I did +not include the outer pedestals), it proves very noble vitality +in the art of the time.</p> + +<p>XXIV. I believe the right question to ask, respecting all +ornament, is simply this: Was it done with enjoyment—was +the carver happy while he was about it? It may be the hardest +work possible, and the harder because so much pleasure +was taken in it; but it must have been happy too, or it will +not be living. How much of the stone mason's toil this condition +would exclude I hardly venture to consider, but the +condition is absolute. There is a Gothic church lately built +near Rouen, vile enough, indeed, in its general composition, +but excessively rich in detail; many of the details are designed +with taste, and all evidently by a man who has studied old +work closely. But it is all as dead as leaves in December;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +there is not one tender touch, not one warm stroke, on the +whole façade. The men who did it hated it, and were thankful +when it was done. And so long as they do so they are +merely loading your walls with shapes of clay: the garlands +of everlastings in Père la Chaise are more cheerful ornaments. +You cannot get the feeling by paying for it—money will not +buy life. I am not sure even that you can get it by watching +or waiting for it. It is true that here and there a workman +may be found who has it in him, but he does not rest contented +in the inferior work—he struggles forward into an +Academician; and from the mass of available handicraftsmen +the power is gone—how recoverable I know not: this only I +know, that all expense devoted to sculptural ornament, in the +present condition of that power, comes literally under the +head of Sacrifice for the sacrifice's sake, or worse. I believe +the only manner of rich ornament that is open to us is the +geometrical color-mosaic, and that much might result from our +strenuously taking up this mode of design. But, at all events, +one thing we have in our power—the doing without machine +ornament and cast-iron work. All the stamped metals, and +artificial stones, and imitation woods and bronzes, over the +invention of which we hear daily exultation—all the short, and +cheap, and easy ways of doing that whose difficulty is its honor—are +just so many new obstacles in our already encumbered +road. They will not make one of us happier or wiser—they +will extend neither the pride of judgment nor the privilege of +enjoyment. They will only make us shallower in our understandings, +colder in our hearts, and feebler in our wits. And +most justly. For we are not sent into this world to do any +thing into which we cannot put our hearts. We have certain +work to do for our bread, and that is to be done strenuously; +other work to do for our delight, and that is to be done heartily: +neither is to be done by halves or shifts, but with a will; +and what is not worth this effort is not to be done at all. +Perhaps all that we have to do is meant for nothing more than +an exercise of the heart and of the will, and is useless in itself; +but, at all events, the little use it has may well be spared if it +is not worth putting our hands and our strength to. It does<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +not become our immortality to take an ease inconsistent with +its authority, nor to suffer any instruments with which it can +dispense, to come between it and the things it rules: and he +who would form the creations of his own mind by any other +instrument than his own hand, would, also, if he might, give +grinding organs to Heaven's angels, to make their music easier. +There is dreaming enough, and earthiness enough, and sensuality +enough in human existence without our turning the few +glowing moments of it into mechanism; and since our life +must at the best be but a vapor that appears for a little time +and then vanishes away, let it at least appear as a cloud in the +height of Heaven, not as the thick darkness that broods over +the blast of the Furnace, and rolling of the Wheel.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>THE LAMP OF MEMORY.</h3> + + +<p>I. Among the hours of his life to which the writer looks +back with peculiar gratitude, as having been marked by more +than ordinary fulness of joy or clearness of teaching, is one +passed, now some years ago, near time of sunset, among the +broken masses of pine forest which skirt the course of the +Ain, above the village of Champagnole, in the Jura. It is a +spot which has all the solemnity, with none of the savageness, +of the Alps; where there is a sense of a great power beginning +to be manifested in the earth, and of a deep and majestic +concord in the rise of the long low lines of piny hills; the +first utterance of those mighty mountain symphonies, soon to +be more loudly lifted and wildly broken along the battlements +of the Alps. But their strength is as yet restrained; and the +far-reaching ridges of pastoral mountain succeed each other, +like the long and sighing swell which moves over quiet waters +from some far-off stormy sea. And there is a deep tenderness +pervading that vast monotony. The destructive forces and +the stern expression of the central ranges are alike withdrawn. +No frost-ploughed, dust-encumbered paths of ancient glacier<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +fret the soft Jura pastures; no splintered heaps of ruin break +the fair ranks of her forests; no pale, defiled, or furious rivers +rend their rude and changeful ways among her rocks. Patiently, +eddy by eddy, the clear green streams wind along their +well-known beds; and under the dark quietness of the undisturbed +pines, there spring up, year by year, such company of +joyful flowers as I know not the like of among all the blessings +of the earth. It was Spring time, too; and all were coming +forth in clusters crowded for very love; there was room +enough for all, but they crushed their leaves into all manner +of strange shapes only to be nearer each other. There was +the wood anemone, star after star, closing every now and then +into nebulæ: and there was the oxalis, troop by troop like +virginal processions of the Mois de Marie, the dark vertical +clefts in the limestone choked up with them as with heavy +snow, and touched with ivy on the edges—ivy as light and +lovely as the vine; and ever and anon, a blue gush of violets, +and cowslip bells in sunny places; and in the more open +ground, the vetch, and comfrey, and mezereon, and the small +sapphire buds of the Polygala Alpina, and the wild strawberry, +just a blossom or two, all showered amidst the golden softness +of deep, warm, amber-colored moss. I came out presently on +the edge of the ravine; the solemn murmur of its waters rose +suddenly from beneath, mixed with the singing of the thrushes +among the pine boughs; and, on the opposite side of the +valley, walled all along as it was by grey cliffs of limestone, +there was a hawk sailing slowly off their brow, touching them +nearly with his wings, and with the shadows of the pines +flickering upon his plumage from above; but with a fall of a +hundred fathoms under his breast, and the curling pools of the +green river gliding and glittering dizzily beneath him, their +foam globes moving with him as he flew. It would be difficult +to conceive a scene less dependent upon any other interest +than that of its own secluded and serious beauty; but the +writer well remembers the sudden blankness and chill which +were cast upon it when he endeavored, in order more strictly +to arrive at the sources of its impressiveness, to imagine it, for +a moment, a scene in some aboriginal forest of the New Con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>tinent. +The flowers in an instant lost their light, the river its +music<a href="#NOTE_XV" class="fnanchor">15</a>; the hills became oppressively desolate; a heaviness +in the boughs of the darkened forest showed how much of +their former power had been dependent upon a life which was +not theirs, how much of the glory of the imperishable, or continually +renewed, creation is reflected from things more precious +in their memories than it, in its renewing. Those ever +springing flowers and ever flowing streams had been dyed by +the deep colors of human endurance, valor, and virtue; and +the crests of the sable hills that rose against the evening sky +received a deeper worship, because their far shadows fell eastward +over the iron wall of Joux and the four-square keep of +Granson.</p> + +<p>II. It is as the centralisation and protectress of this sacred +influence, that Architecture is to be regarded by us with the +most serious thought. We may live without her, and worship +without her, but we cannot remember without her. How cold +is all history how lifeless all imagery, compared to that which +the living nation writes, and the uncorrupted marble bears! +how many pages of doubtful record might we not often spare, +for a few stones left one upon another! The ambition of the +old Babel builders was well directed for this world: there are +but two strong conquerors of the forgetfulness of men, Poetry +and Architecture; and the latter in some sort includes the +former, and is mightier in its reality; it is well to have, not +only what men have thought and felt, but what their hands +have handled, and their strength wrought, and their eyes +beheld, all the days of their life. The age of Homer is surrounded +with darkness, his very personality with doubt. Not +so that of Pericles: and the day is coming when we shall confess, +that we have learned more of Greece out of the crumbled +fragments of her sculpture than even from her sweet singers +or soldier historians. And if indeed there be any profit in our +knowledge of the past, or any joy in the thought of being remembered +hereafter, which can give strength to present exertion, +or patience to present endurance, there are two duties +respecting national architecture whose importance it is impossible +to overrate; the first, to render the architecture of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +day historical; and, the second, to preserve, as the most precious +of inheritances, that of past ages.</p> + +<p>III. It is in the first of these two directions that Memory +may truly be said to be the Sixth Lamp of Architecture; for +it is in becoming memorial or monumental that a true perfection +is attained by civil and domestic buildings; and this partly +as they are, with such a view, built in a more stable manner, +and partly as their decorations are consequently animated by a +metaphorical or historical meaning.</p> + +<p>As regards domestic buildings, there must always be a certain +limitation to views of this kind in the power, as well as in +the hearts, of men; still I cannot but think it an evil sign of +a people when their houses are built to last for one generation +only. There is a sanctity in a good man's house which cannot +be renewed in every tenement that rises on its ruins: and I +believe that good men would generally feel this; and that +having spent their lives happily and honorably, they would be +grieved at the close of them to think that the place of their +earthly abode, which had seen, and seemed almost to sympathise +in all their honor, their gladness, or their suffering,—that +this, with all the record it bare of them, and all of material +things that they had loved and ruled over, and set the stamp +of themselves upon—was to be swept away, as soon as there +was room made for them in the grave; that no respect was to +be shown to it, no affection felt for it, no good to be drawn +from it by their children; that though there was a monument +in the church, there was no warm monument in the heart and +house to them; that all that they ever treasured was despised, +and the places that had sheltered and comforted them were +dragged down to the dust. I say that a good man would fear +this; and that, far more, a good son, a noble descendant, would +fear doing it to his father's house. I say that if men lived like +men indeed, their houses would be temples—temples which we +should hardly dare to injure, and in which it would make us +holy to be permitted to live; and there must be a strange dissolution +of natural affection, a strange unthankfulness for all +that homes have given and parents taught, a strange consciousness +that we have been unfaithful to our fathers' honor, or that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +our own lives are not such as would make our dwellings sacred +to our children, when each man would fain build to himself, +and build for the little revolution of his own life only. And I +look upon those pitiful concretions of lime and clay which +spring up in mildewed forwardness out of the kneaded fields +about our capital—upon those thin, tottering, foundationless +shells of splintered wood and imitated stone—upon those +gloomy rows of formalised minuteness, alike without difference +and without fellowship, as solitary as similar—not merely with +the careless disgust of an offended eye, not merely with sorrow +for a desecrated landscape, but with a painful foreboding +that the roots of our national greatness must be deeply cankered +when they are thus loosely struck in their native ground; +that those comfortless and unhonored dwellings are the signs +of a great and spreading spirit of popular discontent; that +they mark the time when every man's aim is to be in some +more elevated sphere than his natural one, and every man's +past life is his habitual scorn; when men build in the hope of +leaving the places they have built, and live in the hope of forgetting +the years that they have lived; when the comfort, the +peace, the religion of home have ceased to be felt; and the +crowded tenements of a struggling and restless population differ +only from the tents of the Arab or the Gipsy by their less +healthy openness to the air of heaven, and less happy choice of +their spot of earth; by their sacrifice of liberty without the +gain of rest, and of stability without the luxury of change.</p> + +<p>IV. This is no slight, no consequenceless evil: it is ominous, +infectious, and fecund of other fault and misfortune. +When men do not love their hearths, nor reverence their +thresholds, it is a sign that they have dishonored both, and that +they have never acknowledged the true universality of that +Christian worship which was indeed to supersede the idolatry, +but not the piety, of the pagan. Our God is a household +God, as well as a heavenly one; He has an altar in every +man's dwelling; let men look to it when they rend it lightly +and pour out its ashes. It is not a question of mere ocular +delight, it is no question of intellectual pride, or of cultivated +and critical fancy, how, and with what aspect of durability<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +and of completeness, the domestic buildings of a nation shall +be raised. It is one of those moral duties, not with more +impunity to be neglected because the perception of them depends +on a finely toned and balanced conscientiousness, to +build our dwellings with care, and patience, and fondness, +and diligent completion, and with a view to their duration at +least for such a period as, in the ordinary course of national +revolutions, might be supposed likely to extend to the entire +alteration of the direction of local interests. This at the +least; but it would be better if, in every possible instance, +men built their own houses on a scale commensurate rather +with their condition at the commencement, than their attainments +at the termination, of their worldly career; and built +them to stand as long as human work at its strongest can be +hoped to stand; recording to their children what they have +been, and from what, if so it had been permitted them, they +had risen. And when houses are thus built, we may have +that true domestic architecture, the beginning of all other, +which does not disdain to treat with respect and thoughtfulness +the small habitation as well as the large, and which invests +with the dignity of contented manhood the narrowness +of worldly circumstance.</p> + +<p>V. I look to this spirit of honorable, proud, peaceful self-possession, +this abiding wisdom of contented life, as probably +one of the chief sources of great intellectual power in all ages, +and beyond dispute as the very primal source of the great +architecture of old Italy and France. To this day, the interest +of their fairest cities depends, not on the isolated richness of +palaces, but on the cherished and exquisite decoration of +even the smallest tenements of their proud periods. The +most elaborate piece of architecture in Venice is a small house +at the head of the Grand Canal, consisting of a ground floor +with two stories above, three windows in the first, and two in +the second. Many of the most exquisite buildings are on +the narrower canals, and of no larger dimensions. One of +the most interesting pieces of fifteenth century architecture in +North Italy, is a small house in a back street, behind the +market-place of Vicenza; it bears date 1481, and the motto,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +<i>Il. n'est. rose. sans. épine</i>; it has also only a ground floor and +two stories, with three windows in each, separated by rich +flower-work, and with balconies, supported, the central one +by an eagle with open wings, the lateral ones by winged +griffins standing on cornucopiæ. The idea that a house must +be large in order to be well built, is altogether of modern +growth, and is parallel with the idea, that no picture can be +historical, except of a size admitting figures larger than life.</p> + +<p>VI. I would have, then, our ordinary dwelling-houses built +to last, and built to be lovely; as rich and full of pleasantness +as may be, within and without; with what degree of likeness +to each other in style and manner, I will say presently, under +another head; but, at all events, with such differences as might +suit and express each man's character and occupation, and +partly his history. This right over the house, I conceive, belongs +to its first builder, and is to be respected by his children; +and it would be well that blank stones should be left in places, +to be inscribed with a summary of his life and of its experience, +raising thus the habitation into a kind of monument, and +developing, into more systematic instructiveness, that good +custom which was of old universal, and which still remains +among some of the Swiss and Germans, of acknowledging the +grace of God's permission to build and possess a quiet +resting-place, in such sweet words as may well close our speaking of +these things. I have taken them from the front of a cottage +lately built among the green pastures which descend from the +village of Grindelwald to the lower glacier:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +"Mit herzlichem Vertrauen<br /> +Hat Johannes Mooter und Maria Rubi<br /> +Dieses Haus bauen lassen.<br /> +Der liebe Gott woll uns bewahren<br /> +Vor allem Unglück und Gefahren,<br /> +Und es in Segen lassen stehn<br /> +Auf der Reise durch diese Jammerzeit<br /> +Nach dem himmlischen Paradiese,<br /> +Wo alle Frommen wohnen,<br /> +Da wird Gott sie belohnen<br /> +Mit der Friedenskrone<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Zu alle Ewigkeit."</span> +</p></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>VII. In public buildings the historical purpose should be +still more definite. It is one of the advantages of Gothic +architecture,—I use the word Gothic in the most extended +sense as broadly opposed to classical,—that it admits of a richness +of record altogether unlimited. Its minute and multitudinous +sculptural decorations afford means of expressing, +either symbolically or literally, all that need be known of national +feeling or achievement. More decoration will, indeed, +be usually required than can take so elevated a character; and +much, even in the most thoughtful periods, has been left to +the freedom of fancy, or suffered to consist of mere repetitions +of some national bearing or symbol. It is, however, generally +unwise, even in mere surface ornament, to surrender the power +and privilege of variety which the spirit of Gothic architecture +admits; much more in important features—capitals of columns +or bosses, and string-courses, as of course in all confessed +bas-reliefs. Better the rudest work that tells a story or records +a fact, than the richest without meaning. There should not +be a single ornament put upon great civic buildings, without +some intellectual intention. Actual representation of history +has in modern times been checked by a difficulty, mean indeed, +but steadfast: that of unmanageable costume; nevertheless, +by a sufficiently bold imaginative treatment, and frank +use of symbols, all such obstacles may be vanquished; not +perhaps in the degree necessary to produce sculpture in itself +satisfactory, but at all events so as to enable it to become a +grand and expressive element of architectural composition. +Take, for example, the management of the capitals of the ducal +palace at Venice. History, as such, was indeed entrusted to +the painters of its interior, but every capital of its arcades was +filled with meaning. The large one, the corner stone of the +whole, next the entrance, was devoted to the symbolisation of +Abstract Justice; above it is a sculpture of the Judgment of +Solomon, remarkable for a beautiful subjection in its treatment +to its decorative purpose. The figures, if the subject +had been entirely composed of them, would have awkwardly +interrupted the line of the angle, and diminished its apparent +strength; and therefore in the midst of them, entirely without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +relation to them, and indeed actually between the executioner +and interceding mother, there rises the ribbed trunk of a massy +tree, which supports and continues the shaft of the angle, and +whose leaves above overshadow and enrich the whole. The +capital below bears among its leafage a throned figure of Justice, +Trajan doing justice to the widow, Aristotle "che die +legge," and one or two other subjects now unintelligible from +decay. The capitals next in order represent the virtues and +vices in succession, as preservative or destructive of national +peace and power, concluding with Faith, with the inscription +"Fides optima in Deo est." A figure is seen on the opposite +side of the capital, worshipping the sun. After these, one or +two capitals are fancifully decorated with birds (Plate V.), and +then come a series representing, first the various fruits, then +the national costumes, and then the animals of the various +countries subject to Venetian rule.</p> + +<p>VIII. Now, not to speak of any more important public +building, let us imagine our own India House adorned in this +way, by historical or symbolical sculpture: massively built in +the first place; then chased with bas-reliefs of our Indian battles, +and fretted with carvings of Oriental foliage, or inlaid with +Oriental stones; and the more important members of its decoration +composed of groups of Indian life and landscape, and +prominently expressing the phantasms of Hindoo worship in +their subjection to the Cross. Would not one such work be +better than a thousand histories? If, however, we have not +the invention necessary for such efforts, or if, which is probably +one of the most noble excuses we can offer for our deficiency +in such matters, we have less pleasure in talking about +ourselves, even in marble, than the Continental nations, at least +we have no excuse for any want of care in the points which insure +the building's endurance. And as this question is one of +great interest in its relations to the choice of various modes of +decoration, it will be necessary to enter into it at some length.</p> + +<p>IX. The benevolent regards and purposes of men in masses +seldom can be supposed to extend beyond their own generation. +They may look to posterity as an audience, may hope +for its attention, and labor for its praise: they may trust to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +its recognition of unacknowledged merit, and demand its justice +for contemporary wrong. But all this is mere selfishness, +and does not involve the slightest regard to, or consideration +of, the interest of those by whose numbers we would fain swell +the circle of our flatterers, and by whose authority we would +gladly support our presently disputed claims. The idea of +self-denial for the sake of posterity, of practising present economy +for the sake of debtors yet unborn, of planting forests +that our descendants may live under their shade, or of raising +cities for future nations to inhabit, never, I suppose, efficiently +takes place among publicly recognised motives of exertion. +Yet these are not the less our duties; nor is our part fitly +sustained upon the earth, unless the range of our intended +and deliberate usefulness include not only the companions, +but the successors, of our pilgrimage. God has lent us the +earth for our life; it is a great entail. It belongs as much to +those who are to come after us, and whose names are already +written in the book of creation, as to us; and we have no +right, by anything that we do or neglect, to involve them in +unnecessary penalties, or deprive them of benefits which it +was in our power to bequeath. And this the more, because it +is one of the appointed conditions of the labor of men that, in +proportion to the time between the seed-sowing and the harvest, +is the fulness of the fruit; and that generally, therefore, +the farther off we place our aim, and the less we desire to be +ourselves the witnesses of what we have labored for, the more +wide and rich will be the measure of our success. Men cannot +benefit those that are with them as they can benefit those +who come after them; and of all the pulpits from which human +voice is ever sent forth, there is none from which it reaches so +far as from the grave.</p> + +<p>X. Nor is there, indeed, any present loss, in such respect, +for futurity. Every human action gains in honor, in grace, in +all true magnificence, by its regard to things that are to come. +It is the far sight, the quiet and confident patience, that, above +all other attributes, separate man from man, and near him to +his Maker; and there is no action nor art, whose majesty we +may not measure by this test. Therefore, when we build, let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +us think that we build for ever. Let it not be for present delight, +nor for present use alone; let it be such work as our +descendants will thank us for, and let us think, as we lay stone +on stone, that a time is to come when those stones will be held +sacred because our hands have touched them, and that men +will say as they look upon the labor and wrought substance of +them, "See! this our fathers did for us." For, indeed, the +greatest glory of a building is not in its stones, or in its gold. +Its glory is in its Age, and in that deep sense of voicefulness, +of stern watching, of mysterious sympathy, nay, even of approval +or condemnation, which we feel in walls that have long +been washed by the passing waves of humanity. It is in their +lasting witness against men, in their quiet contrast with the +transitional character of all things, in the strength which, +through the lapse of seasons and times, and the decline and +birth of dynasties, and the changing of the face of the earth, +and of the limits of the sea, maintains its sculptured shapeliness +for a time insuperable, connects forgotten and following +ages with each other, and half constitutes the identity, as it +concentrates the sympathy, of nations; it is in that golden +stain of time, that we are to look for the real light, and color, +and preciousness of architecture; and it is not until a building +has assumed this character, till it has been entrusted with +the fame, and hallowed by the deeds of men, till its walls have +been witnesses of suffering, and its pillars rise out of the shadows +of death, that its existence, more lasting as it is than that +of the natural objects of the world around it, can be gifted +with even so much as these possess of language and of life.</p> + +<p>XI. For that period, then, we must build; not, indeed, refusing +to ourselves the delight of present completion, nor hesitating +to follow such portions of character as may depend +upon delicacy of execution to the highest perfection of which +they are capable, even although we may know that in the +course of years such details must perish; but taking care that +for work of this kind we sacrifice no enduring quality, and +that the building shall not depend for its impressiveness upon +anything that is perishable. This would, indeed, be the law +of good composition under any circumstances, the arrange<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>ment +of the larger masses being always a matter of greater +importance than the treatment of the smaller; but in architecture +there is much in that very treatment which is skilful +or otherwise in proportion to its just regard to the probable +effects of time: and (which is still more to be considered) +there is a beauty in those effects themselves, which nothing +else can replace, and which it is our wisdom to consult and +to desire. For though, hitherto, we have been speaking of +the sentiment of age only, there is an actual beauty in the +marks of it, such and so great as to have become not unfrequently +the subject of especial choice among certain schools +of art, and to have impressed upon those schools the character +usually and loosely expressed by the term "picturesque." +It is of some importance to our present purpose to determine +the true meaning of this expression, as it is now generally +used; for there is a principle to be developed from that use +which, while it has occultly been the ground of much that is +true and just in our judgment of art, has never been so far +understood as to become definitely serviceable. Probably +no word in the language (exclusive of theological expressions), +has been the subject of so frequent or so prolonged +dispute; yet none remained more vague in their acceptance, +and it seems to me to be a matter of no small interest to investigate +the essence of that idea which all feel, and (to appearance) +with respect to similar things, and yet which every +attempt to define has, as I believe, ended either in mere enumeration +of the effects and objects to which the term has been +attached, or else in attempts at abstraction more palpably +nugatory than any which have disgraced metaphysical investigation +on other subjects. A recent critic on Art, for instance, +has gravely advanced the theory that the essence of the picturesque +consists in the expression of "universal decay." It +would be curious to see the result of an attempt to illustrate +this idea of the picturesque, in a painting of dead flowers +and decayed fruit, and equally curious to trace the steps of +any reasoning which, on such a theory, should account for the +picturesqueness of an ass colt as opposed to a horse foal. But +there is much excuse for even the most utter failure in rea<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>sonings +of this kind, since the subject is, indeed, one of the +most obscure of all that may legitimately be submitted to +human reason; and the idea is itself so varied in the minds +of different men, according to their subjects of study, that no +definition can be expected to embrace more than a certain +number of its infinitely multiplied forms.</p> + +<p>XII. That peculiar character, however, which separates the +picturesque from the characters of subject belonging to the +higher walks of art (and this is all that is necessary for our +present purpose to define), may be shortly and decisively expressed. +Picturesqueness, in this sense, is <i>Parasitical Sublimity</i>. +Of course all sublimity, as well as all beauty, is, in the +simple etymological sense, picturesque, that is to say, fit to +become the subject of a picture; and all sublimity is, even in +the peculiar sense which I am endeavoring to develope, picturesque, +as opposed to beauty; that is to say, there is more +picturesqueness in the subject of Michael Angelo than of Perugino, +in proportion to the prevalence of the sublime element +over the beautiful. But that character, of which the extreme +pursuit is generally admitted to be degrading to art, is <i>parasitical</i> +sublimity; <i>i.e.</i>, a sublimity dependent on the accidents, +or on the least essential characters, of the objects to which it +belongs; and the picturesque is <i>developed distinctively exactly +in proportion to the distance from the centre of thought of those +points of character in which the sublimity is found</i>. Two ideas, +therefore, are essential to picturesqueness,—the first, that of +sublimity (for pure beauty is not picturesque at all, and becomes +so only as the sublime element mixes with it), and the +second, the subordinate or parasitical position of that sublimity. +Of course, therefore, whatever characters of line or shade +or expression are productive of sublimity, will become productive +of picturesqueness; what these characters are I shall +endeavor hereafter to show at length; but, among those which +are generally acknowledged, I may name angular and broken +lines, vigorous oppositions of light and shadow, and grave, +deep, or boldly contrasted color; and all these are in a still +higher degree effective, when, by resemblance or association, +they remind us of objects on which a true and essential sub<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>limity +exists, as of rocks or mountains, or stormy clouds or +waves. Now if these characters, or any others of a higher and +more abstract sublimity, be found in the very heart and substance +of what we contemplate, as the sublimity of Michael +Angelo depends on the expression of mental character in his +figures far more than even on the noble lines of their arrangement, +the art which represents such characters cannot be +properly called picturesque: but, if they be found in the accidental +or external qualities, the distinctive picturesque will +be the result.</p> + +<p>XIII. Thus, in the treatment of the features of the human +face by Francia or Angelico, the shadows are employed only +to make the contours of the features thoroughly felt; and to +those features themselves the mind of the observer is exclusively +directed (that is to say, to the essential characters of +the thing represented). All power and all sublimity rest on +these; the shadows are used only for the sake of the features. +On the contrary, by Rembrandt, Salvator, or Caravaggio, the +features are used <i>for the sake of the shadows</i>; and the attention +is directed, and the power of the painter addressed to +characters of accidental light and shade cast across or around +those features. In the case of Rembrandt there is often an +essential sublimity in invention and expression besides, and +always a high degree of it in the light and shade itself; but +it is for the most part parasitical or engrafted sublimity as +regards the subject of the painting, and, just so far, picturesque.</p> + +<p>XIV. Again, in the management of the sculptures of the +Parthenon, shadow is frequently employed as a dark field on +which the forms are drawn. This is visibly the case in the +metopes, and must have been nearly as much so in the pediment. +But the use of that shadow is entirely to show the +confines of the figures; and it is to <i>their lines</i>, and not to the +shapes of the shadows behind them, that the art and the eye +are addressed. The figures themselves are conceived as much +as possible in full light, aided by bright reflections; they are +drawn exactly as, on vases, white figures on a dark ground: +and the sculptors have dispensed with, or even struggled to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +avoid, all shadows which were not absolutely necessary to the +explaining of the form. On the contrary, in Gothic sculpture, +the shadow becomes itself a subject of thought. It is considered +as a dark color, to be arranged in certain agreeable +masses; the figures are very frequently made even subordinate +to the placing of its divisions: and their costume is enriched +at the expense of the forms underneath, in order to increase +the complexity and variety of the points of shade. There are +thus, both in sculpture and painting, two, in some sort, opposite +schools, of which the one follows for its subject the essential +forms of things, and the other the accidental lights and +shades upon them. There are various degrees of their contrariety: +middle steps, as in the works of Correggio, and all +degrees of nobility and of degradation in the several manners: +but the one is always recognised as the pure, and the other +as the picturesque school. Portions of picturesque treatment +will be found in Greek work, and of pure and unpicturesque +in Gothic; and in both there are countless instances, as pre-eminently +in the works of Michael Angelo, in which shadows +become valuable as media of expression, and therefore take +rank among essential characteristics. Into these multitudinous +distinctions and exceptions I cannot now enter, desiring +only to prove the broad applicability of the general definition.</p> + +<p>XV. Again, the distinction will be found to exist, not only +between forms and shades as subjects of choice, but between +essential and inessential forms. One of the chief distinctions +between the dramatic and picturesque schools of sculpture is +found in the treatment of the hair. By the artists of the time +of Pericles it was considered as an excrescence,<a href="#NOTE_XVI" class="fnanchor">16</a> indicated by +few and rude lines, and subordinated in every particular to +the principality of the features and person. How completely +this was an artistical, not a national idea, it is unnecessary to +prove. We need but remember the employment of the Lacedæmonians, +reported by the Persian spy on the evening before +the battle of Thermopylæ, or glance at any Homeric +description of ideal form, to see how purely <i>sculpturesque</i> was +the law which reduced the markings of the hair, lest, under +the necessary disadvantages of material, they should interfere<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +with the distinctness of the personal forms. On the contrary, +in later sculpture, the hair receives almost the principal care +of the workman; and while the features and limbs are clumsily +and bluntly executed, the hair is curled and twisted, cut +into bold and shadowy projections, and arranged in masses +elaborately ornamental: there is true sublimity in the lines +and the chiaroscuro of these masses, but it is, as regards the +creature represented, parasitical, and therefore picturesque. +In the same sense we may understand the application of the +term to modern animal painting, distinguished as it has been +by peculiar attention to the colors, lustre, and texture of +skin; nor is it in art alone that the definition will hold. In +animals themselves, when their sublimity depends upon their +muscular forms or motions, or necessary and principal attributes, +as perhaps more than all others in the horse, we do +not call them picturesque, but consider them as peculiarly fit +to be associated with pure historical subject. Exactly in +proportion as their character of sublimity passes into excrescences;—into +mane and beard as in the lion, into horns as in +the stag, into shaggy hide as in the instance above given of +the ass colt, into variegation as in the zebra, or into plumage,—they +become picturesque, and are so in art exactly in proportion +to the prominence of these excrescential characters. +It may often be most expedient that they should be prominent; +often there is in them the highest degree of majesty, +as in those of the leopard and boar; and in the hands of +men like Tintoret and Rubens, such attributes become means +of deepening the very highest and most ideal impressions. +But the picturesque direction of their thoughts is always distinctly +recognizable, as clinging to the surface, to the less +essential character, and as developing out of this a sublimity +different from that of the creature itself; a sublimity which +is, in a sort, common to all the objects of creation, and the +same in its constituent elements, whether it be sought in the +clefts and folds of shaggy hair, or in the chasms and rents of +rocks, or in the hanging of thickets or hill sides, or in the +alternations of gaiety and gloom in the variegation of the +shell, the plume, or the cloud.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + +<p>XVI. Now, to return to our immediate subject, it so happens +that, in architecture, the superinduced and accidental +beauty is most commonly inconsistent with the preservation +of original character, and the picturesque is therefore sought +in ruin, and supposed to consist in decay. Whereas, even +when so sought, it consists in the mere sublimity of the +rents, or fractures, or stains, or vegetation, which assimilate +the architecture with the work of Nature, and bestow upon it +those circumstances of color and form which are universally +beloved by the eye of man. So far as this is done, to the extinction +of the true characters of the architecture, it is picturesque, +and the artist who looks to the stem of the ivy instead +of the shaft of the pillar, is carrying out in more daring +freedom the debased sculptor's choice of the hair instead of the +countenance. But so far as it can be rendered consistent +with the inherent character, the picturesque or extraneous +sublimity of architecture has just this of nobler function in it +than that of any other object whatsoever, that it is an exponent +of age, of that in which, as has been said, the greatest +glory of a building consists; and, therefore, the external +signs of this glory, having power and purpose greater than +any belonging to their mere sensible beauty, may be considered +as taking rank among pure and essential character; so +essential to my mind, that I think a building cannot be considered +as in its prime until four or five centuries have passed +over it; and that the entire choice and arrangement of its +details should have reference to their appearance after that +period, so that none should be admitted which would suffer +material injury either by the weather-staining, or the mechanical +degradation which the lapse of such a period would +necessitate.</p> + +<p>XVII. It is not my purpose to enter into any of the questions +which the application of this principle involves. They +are of too great interest and complexity to be even touched +upon within my present limits, but this is broadly to be noticed, +that those styles of architecture which are picturesque +in the sense above explained with respect to sculpture, that +is to say, whose decoration depends on the arrangement of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +points of shade rather than on purity of outline, do not suffer, +but commonly gain in richness of effect when their details +are partly worn away; hence such styles, pre-eminently that +of French Gothic, should always be adopted when the materials +to be employed are liable to degradation, as brick, sandstone, +or soft limestone; and styles in any degree dependent +on purity of line, as the Italian Gothic, must be practised altogether +in hard and undecomposing materials, granite serpentine, +or crystalline marbles. There can be no doubt that +the nature of the accessible materials influenced the formation +of both styles; and it should still more authoritatively +determine our choice of either.</p> + +<p>XVIII. It does not belong to my present plan to consider +at length the second head of duty of which I have above +spoken; the preservation of the architecture we possess: but +a few words may be forgiven, as especially necessary in modern +times. Neither by the public, nor by those who have the +care of public monuments, is the true meaning of the word +<i>restoration</i> understood. It means the most total destruction +which a building can suffer: a destruction out of which no +remnants can be gathered; a destruction accompanied with +false description of the thing destroyed. Do not let us deceive +ourselves in this important matter; it is <i>impossible</i>, as impossible +as to raise the dead, to restore anything that has ever +been great or beautiful in architecture. That which I have +above insisted upon as the life of the whole, that spirit which +is given only by the hand and eye of the workman, never can +be recalled. Another spirit may be given by another time, +and it is then a new building; but the spirit of the dead +workman cannot be summoned up, and commanded to direct +other hands, and other thoughts. And as for direct and simple +copying, it is palpably impossible. What copying can there +be of surfaces that have been worn half an inch down? The +whole finish of the work was in the half inch that is gone; if +you attempt to restore that finish, you do it conjecturally; if +you copy what is left, granting fidelity to be possible (and +what care, or watchfulness, or cost can secure it?), how is the +new work better than the old? There was yet in the old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +<i>some</i> life, some mysterious suggestion of what it had been, +and of what it had lost; some sweetness in the gentle lines +which rain and sun had wrought. There can be none in the +brute hardness of the new carving. Look at the animals which +I have given in Plate 14, as an instance of living work, and +suppose the markings of the scales and hair once worn away, +or the wrinkles of the brows, and who shall ever restore +them? The first step to restoration (I have seen it, and that +again and again, seen it on the Baptistery of Pisa, seen it on +the Casa d' Oro at Venice, seen it on the Cathedral of Lisieux), +is to dash the old work to pieces; the second is usually to +put up the cheapest and basest imitation which can escape detection, +but in all cases, however careful, and however labored, +an imitation still, a cold model of such parts as <i>can</i> be modelled, +with conjectural supplements; and my experience has as yet +furnished me with only one instance, that of the Palais de +Justice at Rouen, in which even this, the utmost degree of +fidelity which is possible, has been attained or even attempted.</p> + +<p>XIX. Do not let us talk then of restoration. The thing is +a Lie from beginning to end. You may make a model of a +building as you may of a corpse, and your model may have +the shell of the old walls within it as your cast might have the +skeleton, with what advantage I neither see nor care; but the +old building is destroyed, and that more totally and mercilessly +than if it had sunk into a heap of dust, or melted into a mass +of clay: more has been gleaned out of desolated Nineveh than +ever will be out of re-built Milan. But, it is said, there may +come a necessity for restoration! Granted. Look the necessity +full in the face, and understand it on its own terms. It is +a necessity for destruction. Accept it as such, pull the building +down, throw its stones into neglected corners, make ballast +of them, or mortar, if you will; but do it honestly, and do not +set up a Lie in their place. And look that necessity in the face +before it comes, and you may prevent it. The principle of +modern times (a principle which I believe, at least in France, +to be <i>systematically acted on by the masons</i>, in order to find +themselves work, as the abbey of St. Ouen was pulled down by +the magistrates of the town by way of giving work to some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +vagrants,) is to neglect buildings first, and restore them afterwards. +Take proper care of your monuments, and you will +not need to restore them. A few sheets of lead put in time +upon the roof, a few dead leaves and sticks swept in time out +of a water-course, will save both roof and walls from ruin. +Watch an old building with an anxious care; guard it as best +you may, and at <i>any</i> cost from every influence of dilapidation. +Count its stones as you would jewels of a crown; set watches +about it as if at the gates of a besieged city; bind it together +with iron where it loosens; stay it with timber where it declines; +do not care about the unsightliness of the aid; better +a crutch than a lost limb; and do this tenderly, and reverently, +and continually, and many a generation will still be born and +pass away beneath its shadow. Its evil day must come at last; +but let it come declaredly and openly, and let no dishonoring +and false substitute deprive it of the funeral offices of memory.</p> + +<p>XX. Of more wanton or ignorant ravage it is vain to speak; +my words will not reach those who commit them, and yet, be +it heard or not, I must not leave the truth unstated, that it is +again no question of expediency or feeling whether we shall +preserve the buildings of past times or not. <i>We have no right +whatever to touch them.</i> They are not ours. They belong +partly to those who built them, and partly to all the generations +of mankind who are to follow us. The dead have still +their right in them: that which they labored for, the praise of +achievement or the expression of religious feeling, or whatsoever +else it might be which in those buildings they intended to +be permanent, we have no right to obliterate. What we have +ourselves built, we are at liberty to throw down; but what +other men gave their strength, and wealth, and life to accomplish, +their right over does not pass away with their death; +still less is the right to the use of what they have left vested +in us only. It belongs to all their successors. It may hereafter +be a subject of sorrow, or a cause of injury, to millions, +that we have consulted our present convenience by casting +down such buildings as we choose to dispense with. That +sorrow, that loss we have no right to inflict. Did the cathedral +of Avranches belong to the mob who destroyed it, any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +more than it did to us, who walk in sorrow to and fro over its +foundation? Neither does any building whatever belong to +those mobs who do violence to it. For a mob it is, and must +be always; it matters not whether enraged, or in deliberate +folly; whether countless, or sitting in committees; the people +who destroy anything causelessly are a mob, and Architecture +is always destroyed causelessly. A fair building is necessarily +worth the ground it stands upon, and will be so until central +Africa and America shall have become as populous as Middlesex; +nor is any cause whatever valid as a ground for its destruction. +If ever valid, certainly not now when the place +both of the past and future is too much usurped in our minds +by the restless and discontented present. The very quietness +of nature is gradually withdrawn from us; thousands who +once in their necessarily prolonged travel were subjected to +an influence, from the silent sky and slumbering fields, more +effectual than known or confessed, now bear with them even +there the ceaseless fever of their life; and along the iron veins +that traverse the frame of our country, beat and flow the fiery +pulses of its exertions, hotter and faster every hour. All +vitality is concentrated through those throbbing arteries into +the central cities; the country is passed over like a green sea +by narrow bridges, and we are thrown back in continually +closer crowds upon the city gates. The only influence which +can in any wise <i>there</i> take the place of that of the woods and +fields, is the power of ancient Architecture. Do not part with +it for the sake of the formal square, or of the fenced and +planted walk, nor of the goodly street nor opened quay. The +pride of a city is not in these. Leave them to the crowd; +but remember that there will surely be some within the circuit +of the disquieted walls who would ask for some other +spots than these wherein to walk; for some other forms to +meet their sight familiarly: like him who sat so often where +the sun struck from the west, to watch the lines of the dome +of Florence drawn on the deep sky, or like those, his Hosts, +who could bear daily to behold, from their palace chambers, +the places where their fathers lay at rest, at the meeting of +the dark streets of Verona.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>THE LAMP OF OBEDIENCE.</h3> + + +<p>I. It has been my endeavor to show in the preceding pages +how every form of noble architecture is in some sort the +embodiment of the Polity, Life, History, and Religious Faith +of nations. Once or twice in doing this, I have named a +principle to which I would now assign a definite place among +those which direct that embodiment; the last place, not only +as that to which its own humility would incline, but rather as +belonging to it in the aspect of the crowning grace of all the +rest; that principle, I mean, to which Polity owes its stability, +Life its happiness, Faith its acceptance, Creation its +continuance,—Obedience.</p> + +<p>Nor is it the least among the sources of more serious satisfaction +which I have found in the pursuit of a subject that at +first appeared to bear but slightly on the grave interests of +mankind, that the conditions of material perfection which it +leads me in conclusion to consider, furnish a strange proof +how false is the conception, how frantic the pursuit, of that +treacherous phantom which men call Liberty; most treacherous, +indeed, of all phantoms; for the feeblest ray of reason +might surely show us, that not only its attainment, but its +being, was impossible. There is no such thing in the universe. +There can never be. The stars have it not; the earth +has it not; the sea has it not; and we men have the mockery +and semblance of it only for our heaviest punishment.</p> + +<p>In one of the noblest poems<a href="#NOTE_XVII" class="fnanchor">17</a> for its imagery and its music +belonging to the recent school of our literature, the writer +has sought in the aspect of inanimate nature the expression of +that Liberty which, having once loved, he had seen among +men in its true dyes of darkness. But with what strange +fallacy of interpretation! since in one noble line of his invocation +he has contradicted the assumptions of the rest, and acknowledged +the presence of a subjection, surely not less severe +because eternal? How could he otherwise? since i<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>f +there be any one principle more widely than another confessed +by every utterance, or more sternly than another imprinted +on every atom, of the visible creation, that principle is +not Liberty, but Law.</p> + +<p>II. The enthusiast would reply that by Liberty he meant +the Law of Liberty. Then why use the single and misunderstood +word? If by liberty you mean chastisement of the passions, +discipline of the intellect, subjection of the will; if you +mean the fear of inflicting, the shame of committing a wrong; +if you mean respect for all who are in authority, and consideration +for all who are in dependence; veneration for the +good, mercy to the evil, sympathy with the weak; if you mean +watchfulness over all thoughts, temperance in all pleasures, +and perseverance in all toils; if you mean, in a word, that +Service which is defined in the liturgy of the English church +to be perfect Freedom, why do you name this by the same +word by which the luxurious mean license, and the reckless +mean change; by which the rogue means rapine, and the fool +equality, by which the proud mean anarchy, and the malignant +mean violence? Call it by any name rather than this, but its +best and truest is, Obedience. Obedience is, indeed, founded +on a kind of freedom, else its would become mere subjugation, +but that freedom is only granted that obedience may be more +perfect; and thus, while a measure of license is necessary to +exhibit the individual energies of things, the fairness and +pleasantness and perfection of them all consist in their Restraint. +Compare a river that has burst its banks with one +that is bound by them, and the clouds that are scattered over +the face of the whole heaven with those that are marshalled +into ranks and orders by its winds. So that though restraint, +utter and unrelaxing, can never be comely, this is not because +it is in itself an evil, but only because, when too great, it overpowers +the nature of the thing restrained, and so counteracts +the other laws of which that nature is itself composed. And +the balance wherein consists the fairness of creation is between +the laws of life and being in the things governed and +the laws of general sway to which they are subjected; and the +suspension or infringement of either kind of law, or, literally,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +disorder, is equivalent to, and synonymous with, disease; +while the increase of both honor and beauty is habitually on +the side of restraint (or the action of superior law) rather than +of character (or the action of inherent law). The noblest +word in the catalogue of social virtue is "Loyalty," and the +sweetest which men have learned in the pastures of the wilderness +is "Fold."</p> + +<p>III. Nor is this all; but we may observe, that exactly in +proportion to the majesty of things in the scale of being, is +the completeness of their obedience to the laws that are set +over them. Gravitation is less quietly, less instantly obeyed +by a grain of dust than it is by the sun and moon; and the +ocean falls and flows under influences which the lake and +river do not recognize. So also in estimating the dignity of +any action or occupation of men, there is perhaps no better +test than the question "are its laws strait?" For their severity +will probably be commensurate with the greatness of +the numbers whose labor it concentrates or whose interest it +concerns.</p> + +<p>This severity must be singular, therefore, in the case of +that art, above all others, whose productions are the most vast +and the most common; which requires for its practice the co-operation +of bodies of men, and for its perfection the perseverance +of successive generations. And taking into account +also what we have before so often observed of Architecture, +her continual influence over the emotions of daily life, and her +realism, as opposed to the two sister arts which are in comparison +but the picturing of stories and of dreams, we might +beforehand expect that we should find her healthy state and +action dependent on far more severe laws than theirs; that the +license which they extend to the workings of individual mind +would be withdrawn by her; and that, in assertion of the relations +which she holds with all that is universally important +to man, she would set forth, by her own majestic subjection, +some likeness of that on which man's social happiness and +power depend. We might, therefore, without the light of +experience, conclude, that Architecture never could flourish +except when it was subjected to a national law as strict and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +as minutely authoritative as the laws which regulate religion, +policy, and social relations; nay, even more authoritative than +these, because both capable of more enforcement, as over +more passive matter; and needing more enforcement, as the +purest type not of one law nor of another, but of the common +authority of all. But in this matter experience speaks more +loudly than reason. If there be any one condition which, in +watching the progress of architecture, we see distinct and +general; if, amidst the counter evidence of success attending +opposite accidents of character and circumstance, any one +conclusion may be constantly and indisputably drawn, it is +this; that the architecture of a nation is great only when it is +as universal and as established as its language; and when provincial +differences of style are nothing more than so many dialects. +Other necessities are matters of doubt: nations have +been alike successful in their architecture in times of poverty +and of wealth; in times of war and of peace; in times of barbarism +and of refinement; under governments the most liberal +or the most arbitrary; but this one condition has been +constant, this one requirement clear in all places and at all +times, that the work shall be that of a school, that no individual +caprice shall dispense with, or materially vary, accepted +types and customary decorations; and that from the cottage +to the palace, and from the chapel to the basilica, and from +the garden fence to the fortress wall, every member and feature +of the architecture of the nation shall be as commonly +current, as frankly accepted, as its language or its coin.</p> + +<p>IV. A day never passes without our hearing our English +architects called upon to be original, and to invent a new style: +about as sensible and necessary an exhortation as to ask of a +man who has never had rags enough on his back to keep out +cold, to invent a new mode of cutting a coat. Give him a +whole coat first, and let him concern himself about the fashion +of it afterwards. We want no new style of architecture. Who +wants a new style of painting or sculpture? But we want +some style. It is of marvellously little importance, if we have +a code of laws and they be good laws, whether they be new or +old, foreign or native, Roman or Saxon, or Norman or Eng<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>lish +laws. But it is of considerable importance that we should +have a code of laws of one kind or another, and that code accepted +and enforced from one side of the island to another, +and not one law made ground of judgment at York and another +in Exeter. And in like manner it does not matter one +marble splinter whether we have an old or new architecture, +but it matters everything whether we have an architecture +truly so called or not; that is, whether an architecture whose +laws might be taught at our schools from Cornwall to Northumberland, +as we teach English spelling and English grammar, +or an architecture which is to be invented fresh every +time we build a workhouse or a parish school. There seems +to me to be a wonderful misunderstanding among the majority +of architects at the present day as to the very nature and +meaning of Originality, and of all wherein it consists. Originality +in expression does not depend on invention of new words; +nor originality in poetry on invention of new measures; nor, +in painting, on invention of new colors, or new modes of using +them. The chords of music, the harmonies of color, the general +principles of the arrangement of sculptural masses, have +been determined long ago, and, in all probability, cannot be +added to any more than they can be altered. Granting that +they may be, such additions or alterations are much more the +work of time and of multitudes than of individual inventors. +We may have one Van Eyck, who will be known as the introducer +of a new style once in ten centuries, but he himself +will trace his invention to some accidental bye-play or pursuit; +and the use of that invention will depend altogether on the +popular necessities or instincts of the period. Originality depends +on nothing of the kind. A man who has the gift, will +take up any style that is going, the style of his day, and will +work in that, and be great in that, and make everything that +he does in it look as fresh as if every thought of it had just +come down from heaven. I do not say that he will not take +liberties with his materials, or with his rules: I do not say +that strange changes will not sometimes be wrought by his +efforts, or his fancies, in both. But those changes will be instructive, +natural, facile, though sometimes marvellous; they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +will never be sought after as things necessary to his dignity +or to his independence; and those liberties will be like the +liberties that a great speaker takes with the language, not a +defiance of its rules for the sake of singularity; but inevitable, +uncalculated, and brilliant consequences of an effort to express +what the language, without such infraction, could not. There +may be times when, as I have above described, the life of an +art is manifested in its changes, and in its refusal of ancient +limitations: so there are in the life of an insect; and there is +great interest in the state of both the art and the insect at +those periods when, by their natural progress and constitutional +power, such changes are about to be wrought. But as +that would be both an uncomfortable and foolish caterpillar +which, instead of being contented with a caterpillar's life and +feeding on caterpillar's food, was always striving to turn itself +into a chrysalis; and as that would be an unhappy chrysalis +which should lie awake at night and roll restlessly in its +cocoon, in efforts to turn itself prematurely into a moth; so +will that art be unhappy and unprosperous which, instead of +supporting itself on the food, and contenting itself with the +customs which have been enough for the support and guidance +of other arts before it and like it, is struggling and fretting +under the natural limitations of its existence, and striving +to become something other than it is. And though it is the +nobility of the highest creatures to look forward to, and partly +to understand the changes which are appointed for them, preparing +for them beforehand; and if, as is usual with <i>appointed</i> +changes, they be into a higher state, even desiring them, and +rejoicing in the hope of them, yet it is the strength of every +creature, be it changeful or not, to rest for the time being, +contented with the conditions of its existence, and striving +only to bring about the changes which it desires, by fulfilling +to the uttermost the duties for which its present state is +appointed and continued.</p> + +<p>V. Neither originality, therefore, nor change, good though +both may be, and this is commonly a most merciful and enthusiastic +supposition with respect to either, are ever to be +sought in themselves, or can ever be healthily obtained by any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +struggle or rebellion against common laws. We want neither +the one nor the other. The forms of architecture already +known are good enough for us, and for far better than any of +us: and it will be time enough to think of changing them for +better when we can use them as they are. But there are +some things which we not only want, but cannot do without; +and which all the struggling and raving in the world, nay +more, which all the real talent and resolution in England, will +never enable us to do without: and these are Obedience, +Unity, Fellowship, and Order. And all our schools of design, +and committees of tastes; all our academies and lectures, and +journalisms, and essays; all the sacrifices which we are beginning +to make, all the truth which there is in our English nature, +all the power of our English will, and the life of our +English intellect, will in this matter be as useless as efforts +and emotions in a dream, unless we are contented to submit +architecture and all art, like other things, to English law.</p> + +<p>VI. I say architecture and all art; for I believe architecture +must be the beginning of arts, and that the others must follow +her in their time and order; and I think the prosperity +of our schools of painting and sculpture, in which no one will +deny the life, though many the health, depends upon that of +our architecture. I think that all will languish until that +takes the lead, and (this I do not <i>think</i>, but I proclaim, as +confidently as I would assert the necessity, for the safety of +society, of an understood and strongly administered legal government) +our architecture <i>will</i> languish, and that in the very +dust, until the first principle of common sense be manfully +obeyed, and an universal system of form and workmanship be +everywhere adopted and enforced. It may be said that this +is impossible. It may be so—I fear it is so: I have nothing +to do with the possibility or impossibility of it; I simply +know and assert the necessity of it. If it be impossible, English +art is impossible. Give it up at once. You are wasting +time, and money, and energy upon it, and though you exhaust +centuries and treasuries, and break hearts for it, you +will never raise it above the merest dilettanteism. Think not +of it. It is a dangerous vanity, a mere gulph in which genius<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +after genius will be swallowed up, and it will not close. And +so it will continue to be, unless the one bold and broad step be +taken at the beginning. We shall not manufacture art out of +pottery and printed stuffs; we shall not reason out art by our +philosophy; we shall not stumble upon art by our experiments, +not create it by our fancies: I do not say that we can +even build it out of brick and stone; but there is a chance +for us in these, and there is none else; and that chance rests +on the bare possibility of obtaining the consent, both of +architects and of the public, to choose a style, and to use it +universally.</p> + +<p>VII. How surely its principles ought at first to be limited, +we may easily determine by the consideration of the necessary +modes of teaching any other branch of general knowledge. +When we begin to teach children writing, we force +them to absolute copyism, and require absolute accuracy in +the formation of the letters; as they obtain command of the +received modes of literal expression, we cannot prevent their +falling into such variations as are consistent with their feeling, +their circumstances, or their characters. So, when a boy +is first taught to write Latin, an authority is required of him +for every expression he uses; as he becomes master of the +language he may take a license, and feel his right to do so +without any authority, and yet write better Latin than when +he borrowed every separate expression. In the same way our +architects would have to be taught to write the accepted style. +We must first determine what buildings are to be considered +Augustan in their authority; their modes of construction and +laws of proportion are to be studied with the most penetrating +care; then the different forms and uses of their decorations +are to be classed and catalogued, as a German grammarian +classes the powers of prepositions; and under this +absolute, irrefragable authority, we are to begin to work; +admitting not so much as an alteration in the depth of a +cavetto, or the breadth of a fillet. Then, when our sight is +once accustomed to the grammatical forms and arrangements, +and our thoughts familiar with the expression of them all; +when we can speak this dead language naturally, and apply it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +to whatever ideas we have to render, that is to say, to every +practical purpose of life; then, and not till then, a license +might be permitted; and individual authority allowed to +change or to add to the received forms, always within certain +limits; the decorations, especially, might be made subjects of +variable fancy, and enriched with ideas either original or +taken from other schools. And thus in process of time and +by a great national movement, it might come to pass, that a +new style should arise, as language itself changes; we might +perhaps come to speak Italian instead of Latin, or to speak +modern instead of old English; but this would be a matter +of entire indifference, and a matter, besides, which no determination +or desire could either hasten or prevent. That +alone which it is in our power to obtain, and which it is our +duty to desire, is an unanimous style of some kind, and such +comprehension and practice of it as would enable us to adapt +its features to the peculiar character of every several building, +large or small, domestic, civil, or ecclesiastical. I have said +that it was immaterial what style was adopted, so far as regards +the room for originality which its developement would +admit: it is not so, however, when we take into consideration +the far more important questions of the facility of adaptation +to general purposes, and of the sympathy with which this or that +style would be popularly regarded. The choice of Classical +or Gothic, again using the latter term in its broadest sense, +may be questionable when it regards some single and considerable +public building; but I cannot conceive it questionable, +for an instant, when it regards modern uses in general: I +cannot conceive any architect insane enough to project the +vulgarization of Greek architecture. Neither can it be rationally +questionable whether we should adopt early or late, original +or derivative Gothic: if the latter were chosen, it must be +either some impotent and ugly degradation, like our own +Tudor, or else a style whose grammatical laws it would be +nearly impossible to limit or arrange, like the French Flamboyant. +We are equally precluded from adopting styles essentially +infantine or barbarous, however Herculean their infancy, +or majestic their outlawry, such as our own Norman,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +or the Lombard Romanesque. The choice would lie I think +between four styles:—1. The Pisan Romanesque; 2. The +early Gothic of the Western Italian Republics, advanced as +far and as fast as our art would enable us to the Gothic of +Giotto; 3. The Venetian Gothic in its purest developement; +4. The English earliest decorated. The most natural, perhaps +the safest choice, would be of the last, well fenced from +chance of again stiffening into the perpendicular; and perhaps +enriched by some mingling of decorative elements from +the exquisite decorated Gothic of France, of which, in such +cases, it would be needful to accept some well known examples, +as the North door of Rouen and the church of St. +Urbain at Troyes, for final and limiting authorities on the +side of decoration.</p> + +<p>VIII. It is almost impossible for us to conceive, in our present +state of doubt and ignorance, the sudden dawn of intelligence +and fancy, the rapidly increasing sense of power and +facility, and, in its <i>proper sense</i>, of Freedom, which such wholesome +restraint would instantly cause throughout the whole +circle of the arts. Freed from the agitation and embarrassment +of that liberty of choice which is the cause of half the +discomforts of the world; freed from the accompanying necessity +of studying all past, present, or even possible styles; +and enabled, by concentration of individual, and co-operation +of multitudinous energy, to penetrate into the uttermost secrets +of the adopted style, the architect would find his whole +understanding enlarged, his practical knowledge certain and +ready to hand, and his imagination playful and vigorous, as a +child's would be within a walled garden, who would sit down +and shudder if he were left free in a fenceless plain. How +many and how bright would be the results in every direction +of interest, not to the arts merely, but to national happiness +and virtue, it would be as difficult to preconceive as it would +seem extravagant to state: but the first, perhaps the least, of +them would be an increased sense of fellowship among ourselves, +a cementing of every patriotic bond of union, a proud +and happy recognition of our affection for and sympathy with +each other, and our willingness in all things to submit our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>selves +to every law that would advance the interest of the community; +a barrier, also, the best conceivable, to the unhappy +rivalry of the upper and middle classes, in houses, furniture, +and establishments; and even a check to much of what is +as vain as it is painful in the oppositions of religious parties +respecting matters of ritual. These, I say, would be the first +consequences. Economy increased tenfold, as it would be by +the simplicity of practice; domestic comforts uninterfered +with by the caprice and mistakes of architects ignorant of the +capacities of the styles they use, and all the symmetry and +sightliness of our harmonized streets and public buildings, +are things of slighter account in the catalogue of benefits. +But it would be mere enthusiasm to endeavor to trace them +farther. I have suffered myself too long to indulge in the +speculative statement of requirements which perhaps we have +more immediate and more serious work than to supply, and +of feelings which it may be only contingently in our power to +recover. I should be unjustly thought unaware of the difficulty +of what I have proposed, or of the unimportance of the +whole subject as compared with many which are brought home +to our interests and fixed upon our consideration by the wild +course of the present century. But of difficulty and of importance +it is for others to judge. I have limited myself to +the simple statement of what, if we desire to have architecture, +we <small>MUST</small> primarily endeavor to feel and do: but then it may +not be desirable for us to have architecture at all. There are +many who feel it to be so; many who sacrifice much to that +end; and I am sorry to see their energies wasted and their +lives disquieted in vain. I have stated, therefore, the only +ways in which that end is attainable, without venturing even +to express an opinion as to its real desirableness. I have an +opinion, and the zeal with which I have spoken may sometimes +have betrayed it, but I hold to it with no confidence. I +know too well the undue importance which the study that +every man follows must assume in his own eyes, to trust my +own impressions of the dignity of that of Architecture; and +yet I think I cannot be utterly mistaken in regarding it as at +least useful in the sense of a National employment. I am con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>firmed +in this impression by what I see passing among the +states of Europe at this instant. All the horror, distress, and +tumult which oppress the foreign nations, are traceable, +among the other secondary causes through which God is working +out His will upon them, to the simple one of their not +having enough to do. I am not blind to the distress among +their operatives; nor do I deny the nearer and visibly active +causes of the movement: the recklessness of villany in the +leaders of revolt, the absence of common moral principle in +the upper classes, and of common courage and honesty in the +heads of governments. But these causes themselves are ultimately +traceable to a deeper and simpler one: the recklessness +of the demagogue, the immorality of the middle class, and the +effeminacy and treachery of the noble, are traceable in all these +nations to the commonest and most fruitful cause of calamity +in households—idleness. We think too much in our benevolent +efforts, more multiplied and more vain day by day, of +bettering men by giving them advice and instruction. There +are few who will take either: the chief thing they need is occupation. +I do not mean work in the sense of bread,—I mean +work in the sense of mental interest; for those who either +are placed above the necessity of labor for their bread, or who +will not work although they should. There is a vast quantity +of idle energy among European nations at this time, which +ought to go into handicrafts; there are multitudes of idle +semi-gentlemen who ought to be shoemakers and carpenters; +but since they will not be these so long as they can help it, +the business of the philanthropist is to find them some other +employment than disturbing governments. It is of no use +to tell them they are fools, and that they will only make themselves +miserable in the end as well as others: if they have +nothing else to do, they will do mischief; and the man who +will not work, and who has no means of intellectual pleasure, +is as sure to become an instrument of evil as if he had sold himself +bodily to Satan. I have myself seen enough of the daily +life of the young educated men of France and Italy, to account +for, as it deserves, the deepest national suffering and +degradation; and though, for the most part, our commerce<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +and our natural habits of industry preserve us from a similar +paralysis, yet it would be wise to consider whether the +forms of employment which we chiefly adopt or promote, are +as well calculated as they might be to improve and elevate +us.</p> + +<p>We have just spent, for instance, a hundred and fifty millions, +with which we have paid men for digging ground from +one place and depositing it in another. We have formed a +large class of men, the railway navvies, especially reckless, +unmanageable, and dangerous. We have maintained besides +(let us state the benefits as fairly as possible) a number of iron +founders in an unhealthy and painful employment; we have +developed (this is at least good) a very large amount of mechanical +ingenuity; and we have, in fine, attained the power +of going fast from one place to another. Meantime we have +had no mental interest or concern ourselves in the operations +we have set on foot, but have been left to the usual vanities +and cares of our existence. Suppose, on the other hand, that +we had employed the same sums in building beautiful houses +and churches. We should have maintained the same number +of men, not in driving wheelbarrows, but in a distinctly technical, +if not intellectual, employment, and those who were +more intelligent among them would have been especially +happy in that employment, as having room in it for the developement +of their fancy, and being directed by it to that observation +of beauty which, associated with the pursuit of natural +science, at present forms the enjoyment of many of the +more intelligent manufacturing operatives. Of mechanical ingenuity, +there is, I imagine, at least as much required to build +a cathedral as to cut a tunnel or contrive a locomotive: we +should, therefore, have developed as much science, while the +artistical element of intellect would have been added to the +gain. Meantime we should ourselves have been made happier +and wiser by the interest we should have taken in the work +with which we were personally concerned; and when all was +done, instead of the very doubtful advantage of the power of +going fast from place to place, we should have had the certain +advantage of increased pleasure in stopping at home.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<p>IX. There are many other less capacious, but more constant, +channels of expenditure, quite as disputable in their +beneficial tendency; and we are, perhaps, hardly enough in +the habit of inquiring, with respect to any particular form of +luxury or any customary appliance of life, whether the kind +of employment it gives to the operative or the dependant be +as healthy and fitting an employment as we might otherwise +provide for him. It is not enough to find men absolute subsistence; +we should think of the manner of life which our +demands necessitate; and endeavor, as far as may be, to +make all our needs such as may, in the supply of them, raise, +as well as feed, the poor. It is far better to give work which +is above the men, than to educate the men to be above their +work. It may be doubted, for instance, whether the habits +of luxury, which necessitate a large train of men servants, be +a wholesome form of expenditure; and more, whether the +pursuits which have a tendency to enlarge the class of the +jockey and the groom be a philanthropic form of mental occupation. +So again, consider the large number of men whose +lives are employed by civilized nations in cutting facets upon +jewels. There is much dexterity of hand, patience, and ingenuity +thus bestowed, which are simply burned out in the blaze +of the tiara, without, so far as I see, bestowing any pleasure +upon those who wear or who behold, at all compensatory for +the loss of life and mental power which are involved in the +employment of the workman. He would be far more healthily +and happily sustained by being set to carve stone; certain +qualities of his mind, for which there is no room in his present +occupation, would develope themselves in the nobler; and I +believe that most women would, in the end, prefer the pleasure +of having built a church, or contributed to the adornment +of a cathedral, to the pride of bearing a certain quantity of +adamant on their foreheads.</p> + +<p>X. I could pursue this subject willingly, but I have some +strange notions about it which it is perhaps wiser not loosely +to set down. I content myself with finally reasserting, what +has been throughout the burden of the preceding pages, that +whatever rank, or whatever importance, may be attributed or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +attached to their immediate subject, there is at least some +value in the analogies with which its pursuit has presented us, +and some instruction in the frequent reference of its commonest +necessities to the mighty laws, in the sense and scope of +which all men are Builders, whom every hour sees laying the +stubble or the stone.</p> + +<p>I have paused, not once nor twice, as I wrote, and often have +checked the course of what might otherwise have been importunate +persuasion, as the thought has crossed me, how soon +all Architecture may be vain, except that which is not made +with hands. There is something ominous in the light which +has enabled us to look back with disdain upon the ages among +whose lovely vestiges we have been wandering. I could smile +when I hear the hopeful exultation of many, at the new reach +of worldly science, and vigor of worldly effort; as if we were +again at the beginning of days. There is thunder on the horizon +as well as dawn. The sun was risen upon the earth +when Lot entered into Zoar.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> +<h2>NOTES</h2> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_I" id="NOTE_I"></a><span class="smcap">Note I.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_21">Page 21.</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>"With the idolatrous Egyptian."</i></p> + +<p>The probability is indeed slight in comparison, but it <i>is</i> a probability +nevertheless, and one which is daily on the increase. I trust that I +may not be thought to underrate the danger of such sympathy, though +I speak lightly of the chance of it. I have confidence in the central +religious body of the English and Scottish people, as being not only +untainted with Romanism, but immoveably adverse to it: and, however +strangely and swiftly the heresy of the Protestant and victory of +the Papist may seem to be extending among us, I feel assured that +there are barriers in the living faith of this nation which neither can +overpass. Yet this confidence is only in the ultimate faithfulness of a +few, not in the security of the nation from the sin and the punishment +of partial apostasy. Both have, indeed, in some sort, been committed +and suffered already; and, in expressing my belief of the close connection +of the distress and burden which the mass of the people at present +sustain, with the encouragement which, in various directions, has been +given to the Papist, do not let me be called superstitious or irrational. +No man was ever more inclined than I, both by natural disposition and +by many ties of early association, to a sympathy with the principles +and forms of the Romanist Church; and there is much in its discipline +which conscientiously, as well as sympathetically, I could love and advocate. +But, in confessing this strength of affectionate prejudice, +surely I vindicate more respect for my firmly expressed belief, that the +entire doctrine and system of that Church is in the fullest sense anti-Christian; +that its lying and idolatrous Power is the darkest plague +that ever held commission to hurt the Earth; that all those yearnings +for unity and fellowship, and common obedience, which have been the +root of our late heresies, are as false in their grounds as fatal in their +termination; that we never can have the remotest fellowship with the +utterers of that fearful Falsehood, and live; that we have nothing to +look to from them but treacherous hostility; and that, exactly in proportion +to the sternness of our separation from them, will be not only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +the spiritual but the temporal blessings granted by God to this country. +How close has been the correspondence hitherto between the degree of +resistance to Romanism marked in our national acts, and the honor +with which those acts have been crowned, has been sufficiently proved +in a short essay by a writer whose investigations into the influence of +Religion upon the fate of Nations have been singularly earnest and successful—a +writer with whom I faithfully and firmly believe that England +will never be prosperous again, and that the honor of her arms +will be tarnished, and her commerce blighted, and her national character +degraded, until the Romanist is expelled from the place which +has impiously been conceded to him among her legislators. "Whatever +be the lot of those to whom error is an inheritance, woe be to the +man and the people to whom it is an adoption. If England, free above +all other nations, sustained amidst the trials which have covered Europe, +before her eyes, with burning and slaughter, and enlightened by +the fullest knowledge of divine truth, shall refuse fidelity to the compact +by which those matchless privileges have been given, her condemnation +will not linger. She has already made one step full of danger. +She has committed the capital error of mistaking that for a purely political +question which was a purely religious one. Her foot already hangs +over the edge of the precipice. It must be retracted, or the empire is but +a name. In the clouds and darkness which seem to be deepening on +all human policy—in the gathering tumults of Europe, and the feverish +discontents at home—it may be even difficult to discern where the +power yet lives to erect the fallen majesty of the constitution once more. +But there are mighty means in sincerity; and if no miracle was ever +wrought for the faithless and despairing, the country that will help itself +will never be left destitute of the help of Heaven" (Historical Essays, +by the Rev. Dr. Croly, 1842). The first of these essays, "England +the Fortress of Christianity," I most earnestly recommend to the +meditation of those who doubt that a special punishment is inflicted by +the Deity upon all national crime, and perhaps, of all such crime most +instantly upon the betrayal on the part of England of the truth and faith +with which she has been entrusted.</p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_II" id="NOTE_II"></a><span class="smcap">Note II.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_25">Page 25.</a><br /> +<br /> +"<i>Not the gift, but the giving.</i>"</p> + +<p>Much attention has lately been directed to the subject of religious +art, and we are now in possession of all kinds of interpretations and +classifications of it, and of the leading facts of its history. But the +greatest question of all connected with it remains entirely unanswered,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +What good did it do to real religion? There is no subject into which I +should so much rejoice to see a serious and conscientious inquiry instituted +as this; an inquiry neither undertaken in artistical enthusiasm +nor in monkish sympathy, but dogged, merciless and fearless. I love +the religious art of Italy as well as most men, but there is a wide difference +between loving it as a manifestation of individual feeling, and +looking to it as an instrument of popular benefit. I have not knowledge +enough to form even the shadow of an opinion on this latter point, and +I should be most grateful to any one who would put it in my power to +do so. There are, as it seems to me, three distinct questions to be considered: +the first, What has been the effect of external splendor on +the genuineness and earnestness of Christian worship? the second, What +the use of pictorial or sculptural representation in the communication of +Christian historical knowledge, or excitement of affectionate imagination? +the third, What the influence of the practice of religious art on +the life of the artist?</p> + +<p>In answering these inquiries, we should have to consider separately +every collateral influence and circumstance; and, by a most subtle +analysis, to eliminate the real effect of art from the effects of the abuses +with which it was associated. This could be done only by a Christian; +not a man who would fall in love with a sweet color or sweet expression, +but who would look for true faith and consistent life as the object +of all. It never has been done yet, and the question remains a subject +of vain and endless contention between parties of opposite prejudices +and temperaments.</p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_III" id="NOTE_III"></a><span class="smcap">Note III.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_26">Page 26.</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>"To the concealment of what is really good or great."</i></p> + +<p>I have often been surprised at the supposition that Romanism, In its +present condition, could either patronise art or profit by it. The noble +painted windows of St. Maclou at Rouen, and many other churches in +France, are entirely blocked up behind the altars by the erection of +huge gilded wooden sunbeams, with interspersed cherubs.</p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_IV" id="NOTE_IV"></a><span class="smcap">Note IV.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_33">Page 33.</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>"With different pattern of traceries in each."</i></p> + + +<p>I have certainly not examined the seven hundred and four traceries +(four to each niche) so as to be sure that none are alike; but they have +the aspect of continual variation, and even the roses of the pendants of +the small groined niche roofs are all of different patterns.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_V" id="NOTE_V"></a><span class="smcap">Note V.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_43">Page 43.</a><br /> + +<br /> +"<i>Its flamboyant traceries of the last and most degraded forms.</i>"</p> + + +<p>They are noticed by Mr. Whewell as forming the figure of the fleur-de-lis, +always a mark, when in tracery bars, of the most debased flamboyant. +It occurs in the central tower of Bayeux, very richly in the buttresses +of St. Gervais at Falaise, and in the small niches of some of the +domestic buildings at Rouen. Nor is it only the tower of St. Ouen +which is overrated. Its nave is a base imitation, in the flamboyant period, +of an early Gothic arrangement; the niches on its piers are barbarisms; +there is a huge square shaft run through the ceiling of the +aisles to support the nave piers, the ugliest excrescence I ever saw on +a Gothic building; the traceries of the nave are the most insipid and +faded flamboyant; those of the transept clerestory present a singularly +distorted condition of perpendicular; even the elaborate door of the +south transept is, for its fine period, extravagant and almost grotesque +in its foliation and pendants. There is nothing truly fine in the church +but the choir, the light triforium, and tall clerestory, the circle of Eastern +chapels, the details of sculpture, and the general lightness of proportion; +these merits being seen to the utmost advantage by the freedom +of the body of the church from all incumbrance.</p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_VI" id="NOTE_VI"></a><span class="smcap">Note VI.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_43">Page 43.</a></p> + +<p>Compare Iliad Σ. 1. 219 with Odyssey Ω. 1. 5—10.</p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_VII" id="NOTE_VII"></a><span class="smcap">Note VII.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_44">Page 44.</a><br /> +<br /> +"<i>Does not admit iron as a constructive material.</i>"</p> + +<p>Except in Chaucer's noble temple of Mars.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +"And dounward from an hill under a bent,<br /> +Ther stood the temple of Mars, armipotent,<br /> +Wrought all of burned stele, of which th' entree<br /> +Was longe and streite, and gastly for to see.<br /> +And thereout came a rage and swiche a vise,<br /> +That it made all the gates for to rise.<br /> +The northern light in at the dore shone,<br /> +For window on the wall ne was ther none,<br /> +Thurgh which men mighten any light discerne<br /> +The dore was all of athamant eterne,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>Yclenched overthwart and ende long<br /> +With yren tough, and for to make it strong,<br /> +Every piler the temple to sustene<br /> +Was tonne-gret, of yren bright and shene."<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;"><i>The Knighte's Tale.</i></span> +</p></div> + +<p>There is, by the bye, an exquisite piece of architectural color just before:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +"And northward, in a turret on the wall<br /> +<i>Of alabaster white, and red corall</i>,<br /> +An oratorie riche for to see,<br /> +In worship of Diane of Chastitee."<br /> +</p></div> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_VIII" id="NOTE_VIII"></a><span class="smcap">Note VIII.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_44">Page 44.</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>"The Builders of Salisbury."</i></p> + +<p>"This way of tying walls together with iron, instead of making them +of that substance and form, that they shall naturally poise themselves +upon their buttment, is against the rules of good architecture, not only +because iron is corruptible by rust, but because it is fallacious, having +unequal veins in the metal, some places of the same bar being three +times stronger than others, and yet all sound to appearance." Survey +of Salisbury Cathedral in 1668, by Sir C. Wren. For my own part, I +think it better work to bind a tower with iron, than to support a false +dome by a brick pyramid.</p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_IX" id="NOTE_IX"></a><span class="smcap">Note IX.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_60">Page 60.</a><br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Plate III.</span></p> + +<p>In this plate, figures 4, 5, and 6, are glazed windows, but fig. 2 is the +open light of a belfry tower, and figures 1 and 3 are in triforia, the latter +also occurring filled, on the central tower of Coutances.</p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_X" id="NOTE_X"></a><span class="smcap">Note X.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_94">Page 94.</a><br /> +<br /> +<i>"Ornaments of the transept towers of Rouen."</i></p> + +<p>The reader cannot but observe agreeableness, as a mere arrangement of +shade, which especially belongs to the "sacred trefoil." I do not think +that the element of foliation has been enough insisted upon in its intimate +relations with the power of Gothic work. If I were asked what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +was the most distinctive feature of its perfect style, I should say the +Trefoil. It is the very soul of it; and I think the loveliest Gothic is +always formed upon simple and bold tracings of it, taking place between +the blank lancet arch on the one hand, and the overcharged cinquefoiled +arch on the other.</p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_XI" id="NOTE_XI"></a><span class="smcap">Note XI.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_95">Page 95.</a><br /> +<br /> +"<i>And levelled cusps of stone.</i>"</p> + +<p>The plate represents one of the lateral windows of the third story of +the Palazzo Foscari. It was drawn from the opposite side of the Grand +Canal, and the lines of its traceries are therefore given as they appear in +somewhat distant effect. It shows only segments of the characteristic +quatrefoils of the central windows. I found by measurement their construction +exceedingly simple. Four circles are drawn in contact within +the large circle. Two tangential lines are then drawn to each opposite +pair, enclosing the four circles in a hollow cross. An inner circle struck +through the intersections of the circles by the tangents, truncates the +cusps.</p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_XII" id="NOTE_XII"></a><span class="smcap">Note XII.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_124">Page 124.</a><br /> +<br /> +"<i>Into vertical equal parts.</i>"</p> + +<p>Not absolutely so. There are variations partly accidental (or at least +compelled by the architect's effort to recover the vertical), between +the sides of the stories; and the upper and lower story are taller than +the rest. There is, however, an apparent equality between five out of +the eight tiers.</p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_XIII" id="NOTE_XIII"></a><span class="smcap">Note XIII.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_133">Page 133.</a><br /> +<br /> +"<i>Never paint a column with vertical lines.</i>"</p> + +<p>It should be observed, however, that any pattern which gives opponent +lines in its parts, may be arranged on lines parallel with the main +structure. Thus, rows of diamonds, like spots on a snake's back, or the +bones on a sturgeon, are exquisitely applied both to vertical and spiral +columns. The loveliest instances of such decoration that I know, are +the pillars of the cloister of St. John Lateran, lately illustrated by Mr. +Digby Wyatt, in his most valuable and faithful work on antique mosaic.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_XIV" id="NOTE_XIV"></a><span class="smcap">Note XIV.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_139">Page 139.</a></p> + + +<p>On the cover of this volume the reader will find some figure outlines +of the same period and character, from the floor of San Miniato at Florence. +I have to thank its designer, Mr. W. Harry Rogers, for his intelligent +arrangement of them, and graceful adaptation of the connecting +arabesque. (Stamp on cloth cover of <i>London</i> edition.)</p> + + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_XV" id="NOTE_XV"></a><span class="smcap">Note XV.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_169">Page 169.</a><br /> +<br /> +"<i>The flowers lost their light, the river its music.</i>"</p> + +<p>Yet not all their light, nor all their music. Compare Modern Painters, +vol. ii. sec. 1. chap. iv. SECTION 8.</p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_XVI" id="NOTE_XVI"></a><span class="smcap">Note XVI.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_181">Page 181.</a><br /> +<br /> +"<i>By the artists of the time of Perides.</i>"</p> + +<p>This subordination was first remarked to me by a friend, whose profound +knowledge of Greek art will not, I trust, be reserved always for +the advantage of his friends only: Mr. C. Newton, of the British Museum.</p> + + +<h4><a name="NOTE_XVII" id="NOTE_XVII"></a><span class="smcap">Note XVII.</span></h4> + +<p class="center"><a href="#Page_188">Page 188.</a><br /> +<br /> +"<i>In one of the noblest poems.</i>"</p> + +<p>Coleridge's Ode to France:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +"Ye Clouds! that far above me float and pause,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose pathless march no mortal may control!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye Ocean-Waves! that wheresoe'er ye roll,</span><br /> +Yield homage only to eternal laws!<br /> +Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds singing.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined,</span><br /> +Save when your own imperious branches swinging,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have made a solemn music of the wind!</span><br /> +Where, like a man beloved of God,<br /> +Through glooms, which never woodman trod,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How oft, pursuing fancies holy,</span><br /> +My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Inspired, beyond the guess of folly,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound!<br /> +O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And O ye Clouds that far above me soared!</span><br /> +Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yea, everything that is and will be free!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With what deep worship I have still adored</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The spirit of divinest Liberty."</span><br /> +</p></div> + +<p>Noble verse, but erring thought: contrast George Herbert:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +"Slight those who say amidst their sickly healths,<br /> +Thou livest by rule. What doth not so but man?<br /> +Houses are built by rule and Commonwealths.<br /> +Entice the trusty sun, if that you can,<br /> +From his ecliptic line; beckon the sky.<br /> +Who lives by rule then, keeps good company.<br /> +<br /> +"Who keeps no guard upon himself is slack,<br /> +And rots to nothing at the next great thaw;<br /> +Man is a shop of rules: a well-truss'd pack<br /> +Whose every parcel underwrites a law.<br /> +Lose not thyself, nor give thy humors way;<br /> +God gave them to thee under lock and key."<br /> +</p></div> + + + + + + + +<div class="footnotes"> +<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> The inordinate delay in the appearance of that supplementary volume +has, indeed, been chiefly owing to the necessity under which the +writer felt himself, of obtaining as many memoranda as possible of +mediæval buildings in Italy and Normandy, now in process of destruction, +before that destruction should be consummated by the Restorer or Revolutionist. +His whole time has been lately occupied in taking drawings +from one side of buildings, of which masons were knocking down the +other; nor can he yet pledge himself to any time for the publication of +the conclusion of "Modern Painters;" he can only promise that its +delay shall not be owing to any indolence on his part.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> 2 Sam. xxiv. 24. Deut. xvi. 16, 17.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> Mal. i. 8.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> Lam. ii. 11. 2 Kings xvii. 25.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> Num. xxxi. 54. Psa. lxxvi. 11.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> John xii. 5.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_G_7" id="Footnote_G_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_G_7"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> Mod. Painters, Part I. Sec. 1, Chap. 3.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_H_8" id="Footnote_H_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_H_8"><span class="label">[H]</span></a> Henceforward, for the sake of convenience, when I name any cathedral +town in this manner, let me be understood to speak of its cathedral +church.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_I_9" id="Footnote_I_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_I_9"><span class="label">[I]</span></a> Literature of the Fine Arts.—Essay on Bas-relief.</p></div> +</div> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Seven Lamps of Architecture, by John Ruskin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEVEN LAMPS OF ARCHITECTURE *** + +***** This file should be named 35898-h.htm or 35898-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/8/9/35898/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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