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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/discoursesonarchOOviol 
 
THE LYCIAN SARCOPHAGUS 
 
 IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM. 
 
DISCOURSES 
 
 ON 
 
 ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 BY 
 
 EUGÈNE EMMANUEL VIOLLET-LE-DUC, 
 
 Architect, 
 
 AUTHOR OF “THE DICTIONARY OF ARCHITECTURE,” “THE STORY OF A HOUSE,” “ANNALS OF 
 A FORTRESS,” “ MEMOIRS OF THE DEFENCE OF PARIS,” 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 TRANSLATED, WITH AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY VAN BRUNT, 
 
 FELLOW AMERICAN INSTITUTE OF ARCHITECTS. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH PLATES AND WOODCUTS. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY, 
 
 Late Ticknok & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co. 
 
 1 8 7 5 . 
 
Copyright, 1875. 
 
 By JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO. 
 
 THE BETTY CEUTi* 
 
 UishM^ 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY TIIE TRANSLATOR. 
 
 UGÈNE-EMMANUEL VIOLLET-LE-DUC, bom in 
 Paris in the year 1814, a diligent student of art, a 
 learned archaeologist, and an architect of experience, 
 published in the year 1S63 a work entitled Entretiens 
 sur V Architecture. In the year 1873 a second and 
 
 concluding volume appeared. The first volume, relat- 
 ing more especially to the theory of architecture, is now presented to the 
 public of this country in an English dress. Its peculiar claim to attention 
 consists in the fact that its argument is an appeal to philosophical analysis 
 against the tyranny of tradition and usage in matters of architectural design. 
 “ I am convinced,” the author says, “ that we can bring the taste of this 
 generation to perfection by making it reason.” 
 
 It would seem that such an argument would be most properly addressed 
 to some nation possessing the desire and means to build monumentally, but 
 destitute of that natural love and appreciation of art which would develop 
 ideas of especial grace and fitness in its works, and enable it to take due 
 rank in the history of civilization. To publish such an appeal in the very 
 capital of civilization, where, ever since the Renaissance, the public mind 
 has been constantly occupied by questions of art, and has diligently searched 
 for the ideal of beauty by every path of practice and theory, would seem 
 to be a most superfluous return to first principles. But the author begs the 
 chief architects of the Latin race and the students who crowd their ateliers 
 to review their knowledge of the architecture of the past, to ascertain if 
 they have not lost their way in the midst of dogmas, commonplaces, and 
 formulas, and if it is not worth while to begin to think again. He professes 
 
IV 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to attack ancient abuses and professional errors made academical in the 
 instructions of the great art schools of the capital and perpetuated in the 
 modern architecture of France. In the midst of his polemic, the eagerness 
 of his appeals to reason, his constant return to the practical conditions of 
 structure as the true basis of design, may well attract attention. If the 
 characteristic and deliberate architectural expression of French civilization, 
 which is admired and imitated in every city of Christendom, is open to 
 criticism such as this, it is high time for us to analyze the sources of our 
 admiration, to enter upon a logical examination of architecture, and to learn 
 at last whether there is an absolute right and an absolute wrong in this 
 region of aesthetics, and whether taste or artistic feeling, or whatever the 
 quality may be called which concerns itself with this expression of the human 
 mind, can discriminate between them. Such an inquiry is not for architects 
 alone, but for every man who is interested in questions affecting the uses of 
 art in life. If architecture, in its good estate, is an art amenable to 
 laws, and not a mere body of arbitrary formulas, — if all the phases of its 
 proper development can be analyzed and explained by whatever process of 
 reasoning, — every layman should be capable of an intelligent appreciation 
 and enjoyment of it without a course of technical study, and the architect 
 could no longer cover his errors of ignorance, carelessness, or haste behind 
 his specious shield of conventionality. 
 
 In order as nearly as possible to give the American reader an impartial 
 stand-point from which he may intelligently survey this field, it is important 
 to glance briefly at the present state of architecture, — more especially in 
 France, — and to ascertain, if possible, under what impulse or inspiration it 
 has developed in the direction of the Louvre, the Hôtel de Aille, the New 
 Opera, and the other familiar and characteristic monuments of French taste. 
 Thus we may see in what an atmosphere and under what especial con- 
 ditions these Discourses were prepared, and make due allowance for their 
 peculiarities of temper and tone. 
 
 M. Viollet-le-Duc in the following pages has sufficiently set forth the his- 
 torical conditions under which, in the time of Louis XII. and Francis I., 
 classic forms supplanted mediaeval forms on the soil of France. The 
 question with which we are immediately concerned is how this fruitful 
 derivative of Roman art has maintained its footing, and how it has con- 
 tinued its consistent development, in the midst of enormous social and po- 
 litical revolutions, and notwithstanding the love of change and fashion which 
 is certainly a leading peculiarity of this people. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 v 
 
 The French Academy of Painting and Sculpture was founded in 1048 ; 
 that of Architecture, in 1671. The modern École des Beaux Arts is a 
 direct descendant from these official schools; it has inherited all their col- 
 lections, and in it are merged all their traditions of theory and practice. 
 It is in the department of the Minister of Fine Arts, and is governed by 
 a director appointed by the minister for five years ; the administration in- 
 cludes a secretary, a treasurer, a librarian, and a custodian of the museum. 
 This bureau is assisted by a council of instruction, composed of certain 
 officials of state, two painters, two sculptors, two architects, an engraver 
 or medallist, and five others. New members are elected to this council 
 every year, replacing old members, who retire in turn. But old members 
 are eligible for re-election, and practically the council has the power of 
 filling its own vacancies. This important council has thus for a century 
 been adapted naturally to the preservation of whatever inheritance of style 
 and practice should be perpetuated for use in the great monuments of state, 
 according to the traditions and prejudices of the school. The curriculum 
 undertakes to embrace all branches of theory and practice. The theoretical 
 studies comprehend aesthetics, the history of art, the elements of anatomy, 
 perspective, geometry, mathematics, geology, physics, chemistry, archaeology, 
 construction, and the administration of works. Practical instruction in 
 drawing and design is given in the seven official ateliers of the school, 
 three of these being devoted to architecture, and each being under the 
 charge of a director. The whole is enshrined in a superb Palace, con- 
 structed for the accommodation of the school, and filled with precious 
 objects of art and every appliance which can inform and inspire the mind. 
 
 Public interest is periodically attracted to the school by the annual com- 
 petition for the “ grand prize of Rome.” This is open to any Frenchman 
 under twenty-five years of age, whether a member of the school or not, who 
 shall have been successful in two preliminary and stated competitions. For 
 architects, sculptors, and painters, the grand competition is annual ; for en- 
 gravers on copper, every second year ; for engravers on precious stones, 
 every third year. One grand prize is given to each branch of art. The 
 successful competitors ( lauréats ) are maintained at the public expense for 
 four years, at least two of which must be spent at the Academy of 
 France at Rome (in the Villa Medici, purchased for the purpose by Louis 
 XIA.), under the control of a director, who is responsible to government 
 tor the progress of their studies. In witness of this progress, each lauréat, 
 during his stay at Rome, sends to the school at Paris a work of sculpture, 
 
VI 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 painting, or an architectural composition. The remaining two years may be 
 spent in travel, at the discretion of each lauréat, he previously having 
 reported his intentions to the authorities. At Rome the architectural student 
 usually devotes himself to measuring and restoring the antique. 
 
 Outside of the school proper, the principal architects of Paris, assuming 
 functions as patrons, have their ateliers filled with students, who, with more or 
 less regularity, attend the lectures of the school, but have their greatest inter- 
 est engaged in a series of stated competitions ( concours ) based upon pro- 
 grammes officially prepared and announced. These competitions are decided 
 by juries largely composed of architects not officially connected with the 
 faculty of instruction, and culminate in the two great annual competitions pre- 
 liminary to the final struggle for the grand prize of Rome. 
 
 All this machinery tends directly to the creation and prevalence of a style 
 of architecture peculiarly academical, and which, considering the atmosphere 
 of emulation in which it has grown and its extraordinary fidelity to a com- 
 paratively narrow range of precedent and study, must necessarily be carried to 
 the highest degree of technical perfection. This style, first made national by 
 the châteaux of Pierre Lescot, Philibert Delorme, Jean Bullant, and the other 
 Trench architects of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and afterwards 
 giving expression, with peculiar felicity, to the pomp of that great builder, 
 Louis XIV., is of cotirse a form of the Renaissance. 
 
 The council of the school, loyal to the exclusive traditions of the place, is 
 content to keep this national inheritance pure from foreign alloy and free from 
 any rivalry or distractions of mediævalism. The architects of Paris, who 
 desire official patronage and decoration; the students, who rejoice in the superb 
 emulation and national distinction of the grand prize ; the multitude, who are 
 proud of their great historical monuments, — all, under these inspirations, cling 
 to the academic style, and recognize no other. Within the shadow of Notre 
 Dame and of the Sainte Chapelle, they are intolerant of any nearer approach 
 to the pointed arch than the conventional use in their ecclesiastical buildings 
 of the round-arched Romanesque of the twelfth century and of such other 
 Byzantine elements as can be adapted to modern means and necessities. 
 
 Until lately even Greek influences have been admitted with jealousy. M. 
 Henri Labrouste, a lauréat of Rome in the year 1824, studied the monuments 
 of the Greek colonies, and sent home, as his official contribution to the 
 school, a correct restoration of a Greek Doric temple. M. Joseph Louis Due, 
 a lauréat of the following year, and immediately afterwards M. Duban and 
 M. Vaudoyer, pursued their studies in Italy in the same direction with intelli- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 vu 
 
 gent enthusiasm, and brought back to France prolific seeds of Greek sentiment. 
 This sentiment afterwards took form in what was known a few years ago in 
 Paris as “ the Romantic School,” which consisted in the admission of a larger 
 scope of invention and in the refinement of architectural forms by somewhat of 
 the Greek feeling for purity and elegance of line. It was rather a Renaissance 
 of Greek expressions than of Greek principles, and, owing to the facility 
 with which even caprices could assume an air of studious elegance under this 
 treatment, it became so popular and so well suited to French taste, that, after 
 the construction of the Library of St. Genevieve by M. Labrouste, the prej- 
 udices of the Academy were overcome, and it became an essential element 
 of French architecture. 
 
 Meanwhile, in this uncongenial atmosphere, the Gothic or mediaeval school 
 received its chief encouragement from the archaeological spirit ; and M. Lassus 
 and M. Yiollet-le-Duc became engaged, not in the legitimate and practical 
 development of their theories of art, but in the restoration of the Gothic 
 monuments of France. 
 
 The academic style of Paris has thus enjoyed the unprecedented advantage 
 of an undisturbed growth of four hundred years in the hands of the wealth- 
 iest and most artistic people in the world. They have lavished upon the 
 Roman orders and upon their Italian derivatives of the fifteenth century — a 
 basis of a few simple architectural motifs — all the decoration and refinement 
 of nearly four centuries of industrious and consistent culture. What wonder 
 if the civilized world accepts the extraordinary result with admiration ? Else- 
 where, it may be said, architecture has suffered from anarchy ; here is what 
 may be accomplished by the vigorous administration of art. Why ask for it 
 the blessing of perfect freedom, when discipline can achieve such triumphs ? 
 If all this is wrong, where shall we look for the right ? Who shall tell us 
 how we can develop good architecture ? Who, in short, shall interpret for us 
 the architectural myth ? 
 
 There has hitherto been such a mystery about the practice of architec- 
 ture, such an unexplained accumulation of formulas and rules, such peremp- 
 tory exclusions on the one part, such affectations of lawlessness and caprice 
 on the other, such a "warfare between the picturesque and the symmetrical, 
 that the theory of architecture has gone begging for a rational exposition. 
 Literary enterprise both in France and England has occupied this tempting 
 field of speculation with more or less of dogmatic assertion. In France the 
 æsthetic faculty is by birth and growth so diffused, that criticism in the hands 
 of Quatrèinere de Quincy and other men of letters has been kept in a work- 
 
vin 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 manlike track, and has done its work with comparative modesty and efficiency. 
 But in England, to use the words of a late writer in the “North American 
 Review,” “ since Mr. Ruskin set the example of a literary man erecting him- 
 self into a dictator on questions of art, we have been subjected to a fearful 
 tyranny in æsthelics. It is true that no one else has carried matters so far nor 
 with so high a hand, but there are innumerable petty despots laying down the 
 laws of the sublime and beautiful, who only lack the ability to be as peremp- 
 tory, as arbitrary, and as paradoxical as lie.” Thus, in the absence of a natural 
 appreciation in regard to art and taste, the literary view of the theory of archi- 
 tecture has with us absorbed popular attention and moulded popular opinion. 
 As for the architects, they have, with few exceptions, addressed no word of expla- 
 nation to the public, and the speculators have had the field to themselves ; in- 
 deed, in this country and in England certainly, the art itself for the last twenty 
 years has been affected rather by prejudices based upon the literary exposition 
 of the question than by convictions founded upon practical knowledge, — rather, 
 in short, by sentiment than by reason. Since the publication of the “ Seven 
 Lamps of Architecture” and the “ Stones of Venice,” the characteristic expres- 
 sion of English architecture has been obviously colored by the mediaeval monu- 
 ments of Northern Italy. Many conspicuous structures have been directly 
 inspired by these examples. The Manchester Assize Courts, the new Town 
 Halls, most of the designs for the new Law Courts in London, would scarcely 
 have existed in their present form but for this predominance of letters in art. 
 It is premature to declare, perhaps, that these phenomena are evidences of more 
 than an ephemeral fashion. M. Viollet-le-Duc maintains in the text (without 
 reference, however, to this phase of actual experience) that the architecture of 
 Northern Italy developed biographies and not history, and that it can accord- 
 ingly afford but little profitable instruction. He also elsewhere very justly 
 remarks that a true Renaissance has never arisen from corrupted types : “ Only 
 primitive sources can furnish the energy for a long career.” But if, as has 
 been asserted in some quarters, this adaptation of Southern motifs in a North- 
 ern architecture contains the elements of a just and reasonable progress to- 
 wards a national style, this new English Renaissance exhibits curious and 
 instructive contrasts with that of the sixteenth century in France; while the 
 latter was the result of warlike conquests, and followed in the footsteps of 
 French armies returning with captives and spoils from Italian cities, the former 
 lias come in this nineteenth century from the same fountain of art through the 
 peaceful medium of literature and critical exegesis. However, we are witnesses 
 of a rebellion taking place at this moment in the very strongholds of these 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 IX 
 
 English mediævalists, in the revival here and there throughout England of 
 the long square windows, the brick panels, the attenuated orders, the fretted 
 and ornamented gable lines of the reign of Queen Anne. Is this an indica- 
 tion of anarchy, or is it a healthy reaction from a mere artificial excitement ? 
 We have noted the results of the discipline of the schools in France, in the 
 scholastic elegance and finish of their monuments. Is this picturesque and 
 uneasy groping after a type in England likely to result in something nobler 
 than the façades of the Hôtel de Ville of Paris and of the New Opera ? 
 
 In this condition of doubt we may welcome any man of trained observa- 
 tion and large professional experience, acquainted with the technicalities 
 and manipulations of the various crafts whose labors enter into the construc- 
 tion of a building, — any architect, who is willing and able to explain the 
 sources of his convictions. And here at last is a man who has studied, 
 measured, analyzed, and drawn Greek and Roman monuments in Italy and 
 the Greek colonies, certainly with singular fidelity and intelligence ; who 
 has rebuilt and completed the great Gothic chateau of Pierre fonds, built 
 the town-halls of Narbonne and St. Antonin, restored numerous churches, 
 constructed the flèche and sacristy of the Cathedral of Paris ; repaired the 
 fortifications of Carcassonne ; architect of the works on the cathedrals of 
 Laon, Sens, and Amiens, and the abbeys of St. Denis and Vézelay ; author 
 of the exhaustive Dictionnaire Raisonné de V Architecture Française, du, 
 X e au XI F Siècles, and other works of large research. Thus equipped, 
 M. Viollet-le-Duc appears upon the scene, and endeavors to set forth the 
 true sources of design ; how best to analyze, classify, and use the enor- 
 mous accumulation of precedents m all styles, by which we are so seriously 
 embarrassed ; how to receive the developments of modern science in the arts 
 of construction, and how to give them place and due expression in our 
 modern architecture ; how to subject all our fancies, impressions, and 
 prejudices to rigid philosophical investigation, and how thus to create new 
 things fairly representative of the spirit of modern civilization, if not the 
 new style for which literary criticism is constantly clamoring. We do not 
 mean to assert that M. Viollet-le-Duc has succeeded in all these things, but 
 we think it important to give a new publicity to this honest and earnest 
 effort, and to place it side by side with similar essays of literary men and 
 amateurs, that it may do its work with theirs. 
 
 It will be observed, as a characteristic of his argument, and as a reassnr- 
 ing fact to the professional reader, that at every step the allurements of 
 mere sentiment, so irresistible to the layman, are distrusted, and that the 
 
X 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 premises of every conclusion claim to be practical facts in the arts of build- 
 ing. It is admitted, of course, that he starts with a strong professional 
 bias in opposition to the practice of architecture as carried on under the 
 inspiration of the School of Fine Arts, and with a zealous admiration of the 
 principles both of Greek and of mediæval art ; but if his argument is logical, 
 his appreciation of the great historical and contrasting styles reasonably dis- 
 criminating and just, and his field of observation large and well occupied, 
 we may well pardon the bias for the sake of his contributions to knowledge 
 and the picturesque contrasts of his historical retrospect. Convictions based 
 upon practical knowledge, gained from^experience and observation, even if 
 involving some professional bias or one-sidedness, are at least worthy of 
 comparison ■with theories evolved in the literary manner and subject to the 
 literary temptations of arbitrary statement and sweeping generalizations. 
 
 We Americans occupy a new country, having no inheritance of ruins and 
 no embarrassments of tradition in matters of architecture ; we are absolutely 
 free from historical prejudice ; and yet with our great future we have a con- 
 stant and growing necessity to make of architecture a living and growing 
 art ; we may therefore be in a position peculiarly well adapted to appre- 
 ciate at its just value any honest and earnest effort to give this art true 
 development according to modern necessities. The great range of architec- 
 tural precedents at no point touches our local domain or concerns our national 
 pride. We are so far removed from such entanglements, that we alone of 
 all civilized people may be said to occupy a position of judicial impartiality, 
 and perhaps to us, therefore, with our obviously great material resources, may 
 be intrusted the duty of finding a new solution of the architectural prob- 
 lem. If this be our great function, let us be worthy of it ; let us prepare 
 ourselves, whether as architects or critics, by understanding our duties. 
 
 But why, it may be asked, being so free and untrammelled, may we not 
 break off from the past entirely and create a new American architecture, — 
 why not begin afresh ? To this, of course, there can be but one intelligent 
 reply. All the past is ours ; books, engravings, photographs, have so mul- 
 tiplied, that at any moment we can turn to and examine the architectural 
 achievements of any age or nation. These suggestions of beauty and use 
 are always with us. It must not be forgotten that the most essential dis- 
 tinction between the arts of primitive barbarism and those of civilization is 
 that, while the former are original and independent, and consequently simple, 
 the latter must be retrospective, naturally turning to tradition and prece- 
 dent, and are therefore complex. A beginning once made by primitive dis- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xi 
 
 covery and experiment, art, like nature, must thenceforward proceed by 
 derivation and development ; and where architectural monuments and tradi- 
 tions have accumulated to the vast extent that they have in modern times, 
 the question is not whether we shall use them at all, but how shall we choose 
 amoinr them, and to what extent shall such choice be allowed to inlluence 
 our modern practice. 
 
 It is not to be inferred that the “ hope of modern architecture ” — to 
 use the imposing phraseology of the latest petty tyrant of art — resides in 
 the library of the antiquary. Ilis researches among the architectural char- 
 acteristics of 'nations are made in an entirely different spirit from those of 
 the architect. The former seeks among the monuments of the past for 
 illustrations and vouchers in his historical studies, and, by curious analysis 
 and patient comparison, to place before us in all their minute details such 
 restorations as shall enable those monuments to play the part of authentic 
 archives of human progress. Ilis function is to make out of these the 
 complement and completion of the political story and of the records of 
 princes and parties. He aims to discover in tombs, temples, cathedrals, 
 abbeys, and palaces, in all religious and civic structures, whether of pomp 
 or necessity, deliberate and unconscious expressions of the prevailing senti- 
 ments, the social and political condition of the people in any given time. 
 But such studies do not make architects nor affect architecture further 
 than to create such a spirit of imitation, and, with it, such a mania for 
 absolute “ correctness ” and such an abject fear of anachronism, as in Eng- 
 land, during the early part of this century and up to within twenty years 
 perhaps, bound the art hand and foot, and proved a stumbling-block in 
 the path of its progress. The architect has felt himself called upon to 
 make arbitrary selection of the “ style ” in which he would design his 
 building, and to be “ correct ” in his archaeological reproduction of its mi- 
 nutest details, leaving little room for the free spirit of invention, and no 
 opportunity for the honest adaptation of his work to the new social and 
 material conditions constantly pressed upon him in the advance of knowl- 
 edge. If his work was in “ Early English,” lie must anxiously consult his 
 authorities, lest some characteristic detail of an earlier or later period 
 should find its way into his design and ruin his reputation. Under the 
 pressure of this widely prevailing spirit of antiquarianism, Sir Charles 
 Barry was constrained to meet the exceedingly complicated requirements of 
 the new Houses of Parliament with a masquerade of obsolete architecture 
 of the time of Henry VII. * 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xii 
 
 Are we then, on the other hand, to find the true architect in “ the master- 
 workman,” as the Quarterly Reviewer would have it, — in the man who knows 
 nothing of archaeology and who cares less ? In the beginning of things, when 
 the needs of mankind were simple and their resources of knowledge and expe- 
 rience comparatively small, the master-workman had his day. He developed 
 his primitive forms directly and honestly from practical necessity; 
 
 “ He builded better than he knew, 
 
 The conscious stone to beauty grew.” 
 
 His successors, unembarrassed by knowledge of other styles, avoided his ob- 
 vious errors, profited by his experience, learned economy of materials, and, 
 in a succession of tentative structures, gradually and innocently evolved monu- 
 ments exhibiting the results of well-concentrated thought and of fidelity to a 
 few simple conditions. The master-workman, however, laid aside his func- 
 tions as an originator, and the architect was born, when precedent began so to 
 accumulate, when civilization became so complex and exacting, the wants of 
 mankind so various and conflicting, that, to meet the more elaborate emer- 
 gencies of building, there came to be needed a larger and more exact 
 knowledge, a more careful study of plans and details, and a more deliberate 
 and scientific method of construction. These conditions began to render 
 essential the organization of some processes and appliances, by means of which 
 the system of structure in each case, embracing all the details of the build- 
 ing, could be more exactly and completely set forth long before the first 
 stone was laid. They implied, in short, draughtsmen, instruments of mathe- 
 matical precision, a library of reference, and all the other appointments and 
 conveniences of an office, that is, both of a studio and of a place of business. 
 They implied, moreover, not only the unwritten experience of the builder, 
 but the training and observation of the scholar, by means of which the most 
 remote results could be foreseen and provided for ; and more especially, they 
 called for the feeling, the inspiration, the patience, self-denial, and tempered 
 zeal of the artist. Uncultured genius may be eloquent, but its elocpience is 
 ungrammatical ; and although in architecture as in literature we may some- 
 times pardon the awkwardness of the phrase for the sake of the preciousness 
 of the thought, in neither — and more especially in architecture, whose highest 
 duty it is to embody history and civilization in durable monuments, and whose 
 processes are so artificial and scientific — can the preciousness of the thought 
 render less necessary purity of language, elegance of expression, and exact- 
 ness of knowledge. Uncultured genius may in a moment of heaven-sent 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xiii 
 
 inspiration invent a great architectural thought, but plodding culture is 
 needed to give it such expression as to render it worthy of place in the 
 records of time and capable of doing duty as a new starting-point of archi- 
 tectural style. This is the plain raison d’etre of the architect. He exists 
 because civilization demands him. It is our present duty to see that lie is 
 worthy of his mission. 
 
 The architectural work of our own country indicates clearly enough that w r e 
 have made the largest and most catholic use of European precedent, and en- 
 deavored to repeat European forms with all the fidelity in our power. But 
 it is important to note that these forms have in each locality insensibly 
 submitted in a greater or less degree to practical and social conditions. They 
 have, however reluctantly, yielded some of their characteristics to the exactions 
 of absolute local necessity and convenience, and, in so yielding, have created to 
 a certain extent local peculiarities of form or style. Municipal regulations, 
 characteristics of the local building materials, difference of climate, habits of 
 building and living, the greater or less degree of culture, — all these condi- 
 tions have contributed to create distinctions of style between the various cities 
 and districts of our country. There is a recognizable difference between the 
 architecture of New York and that of Boston, between that of Washington and 
 that of Baltimore, between that of Philadelphia and that of Chicago. Our 
 close proximity to these scenes of activity prevent us from seeing these pro- 
 cesses in true perspective ; but it is a fact that we are living in the midst of 
 the development of styles, such as they are. If methods of intercommunica- 
 tion were as difficult now as they were several centuries ago, we should doubt- 
 less see very much stronger contrasts between the works of different localities ; 
 and if, added to this, it were possible to conceive that these localities existed 
 without the means for the diffusion of knowledge given by the graver, the 
 printing-press, and the photographic camera, we should in all probability ex- 
 hibit variations of style as marked and characteristic, if not as picturesque, as 
 those in the cities of Belgium, France, and England in the thirteenth and four- 
 teenth centuries. But even under our present conditions the intelligent eye 
 can detect the gradual development of local characteristics, not only in the 
 subdivisions of our country, but, in a larger sense, in the nation itself as a 
 whole and as distinguished from the other nations of Christendom, — charac- 
 teristics not so marked, indeed, as those which made English work contrast 
 with that of the Scotch in the thirteenth century, or that of Central France 
 uith that of Southern France in the twelfth century, but sufficient to indi- 
 cate the existence of some influence insensibly and unconsciously working 
 
XIV 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 against our intentions to imitate foreign styles. This is illustrated most 
 conspicuously by the large use of wood which is imposed upon us by our 
 obvious necessities ; and although the master-builders of a few years ago 
 tried very hard to imitate with this material Grecian temples of marble 
 according to Stuart and Revett, or the mansions of brick and stone of the 
 Georgian era according to the traditions brought over from the old country 
 and loyally followed by our ancestors, yet, with due acknowledgment for 
 certain suggestions from Swiss art, we have, under the pressure of necessity, 
 produced at length certain forms in our wooden houses peculiar to our- 
 selves, and capable under proper treatment of a high degree of artistic 
 development. 
 
 Now, inasmuch as all history may be read by an intelligent observation of 
 the monuments of the past, as the following pages show with sufficient dis- 
 tinctness, it is certainly important for us to see to it that our civilization is 
 having a proper exponent in our monuments. We cannot remain indifferent 
 to the operations of this mysterious influence which is building history for us. 
 It is the part of intelligent beings to examine, and, if possible, correct it 
 and give it proper direction. If we analyze it in this spirit, we shall dis- 
 cover that its principal elements are, first, practical local necessities and 
 conditions ; second, a dangerous superficiality of thought and work, arising 
 from a deficient education in art and from a want of leisure, — from the 
 spirit of haste and impatience which prevails in all new communities ; 
 and, third, indifference or absence of sympathy in the public for the just 
 expression of beauty or fitness in buildings. 
 
 The natural local conditions, material and social, constitute a legitimate 
 and controlling element of this influence. It is self-evident, that, to the 
 formation of good style in architecture, the study of convenience and econ- 
 omy is the first, duty, to which everything else must be subordinate. A 
 public like ours, trained in habits of business, is positive and exacting, and 
 at least has the virtue of compelling the architect to fulfil all such prac- 
 tical requirements in a straightforward and common-sense manner. Doubt- 
 less to this quality in our people we are indebted for the most characteristic 
 expressions in our work. It is not a common occurrence for a man to 
 incommode himself nowadays for the sake of an architectural idea. The 
 merchant requires that the first story of the front of his shop or ware- 
 house shall be of class ; the formulas of Vitruvius, Vignola, Palladio, and 
 \ 
 
 all the most venerable traditions and usages of the art, must yield to this 
 inexorable demand ; the building committee insists that their church must 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xv 
 
 be a place where all may see and hear the speaker, and that accommo- 
 dation must be provided on the first floor for vestry, Sunday school, 
 class-rooms, kitchen, and all the social and religious exigencies of their style 
 of worship and service, although Pugin would faint with horror at the result. 
 Yet it is out of just such prosaic exactions as these that our architecture 
 must be developed. We must have narrow façades on our streets, and these 
 must be built to the skies and crowded with windows. We can find no 
 historic precedent for such things. We must accept the conditions as they 
 are given to us, and create our architecture accordingly. 
 
 But the second element of the influence which is at work on our buildings 
 is one which we can and ought to control, namely, superficiality of thought 
 and work, whether arising from want of education or from the atmosphere 
 of bustle and haste in which we live. American architects, as a rule, have 
 not hitherto been men of high training ; the standard has been low, and 
 access to the recognized ranks of the profession has not been denied to the 
 most ignorant and audacious pretenders. In order to counteract this great 
 evil, a few architects who happened to live, practise, and study their art in 
 the city of New York in the year 1857, — men who either in the schools 
 abroad or in offices at home had been educated to the point of feeling the 
 necessity of greater professional comity and of more intelligent rules of 
 practice, — embodied themselves in a society known as the American In- 
 stitute of Architects. The second article of its constitution sets forth that 
 its objects are “ to unite in fellowship the architects of this continent, and 
 to combine their efforts so as to promote the artistic, scientific, and practical 
 efficiency of the profession.” The Institute, reorganized in 1866, has chapters 
 or branches in every principal city of the Union, each of which has stated 
 monthly meetings, and there is an annual convention of the national body. 
 There is a steady increase of membership throughout the country, and the 
 organization has already tended directly and indirectly to raise the standard 
 of the profession, to prompt a large amount of active and fruitful work, to 
 create an important esprit chi corps, and to encourage a higher culture. It 
 has been the means in several cities of obtaining important legislation for im- 
 provement in the arts of building, and its members in New York and Boston 
 have established monthly publications, containing drawings and architectural 
 projects, — which, without such a vehicle, would remain concealed and un- 
 productive in the architects’ portfolios, — together with studies and designs 
 for buildings actually erected, thus facilitating the comparison of competitive 
 designs, encouraging more careful work, and diffusing a knowledge of the 
 
XVI 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 general progress of the art. In Boston the members of the local society 
 have also delivered a course of lectures for the benefit of students, estab- 
 lished prizes to encourage progress in their studies, and have inaugurated a 
 series of exhibitions of industrial art. A body like the Institute, composed 
 largely of young men, and recruited to a considerable extent in late years 
 from graduates of colleges, bringing to it an important contribution of 
 liberal training and general culture, and all fired with a certain degree of 
 emulative and generous enthusiasm, — a body so composed can hardly fail 
 in a young and impressionable country to do much towards diminishing the 
 anarchy which has hitherto distinguished the practice of architecture here. 
 Much has been projected, and somewhat has been accomplished, in the 
 direction of the founding of architectural schools and the establishment of 
 architectural departments in educational institutions. But, from a national 
 point of view, the work of organized education is but begun, and a basis 
 of cultivated conviction, not only on the part of those who preach and 
 criticise, but ou the part of those who practise and produce tangible results, 
 is yet to be attained. 
 
 The atmosphere of haste in which we live is another element distinctly 
 detrimental to the development of good style. Unlike the French, we have 
 no such prevailing academical restrictions as are attributed to the influence of 
 the School of Fine Arts, concentrating all architectural effort on the develop- 
 ment of a few strictly defined ideas such as constitute French Renaissance ; 
 but, like the Greeks, we are in this respect free, and our appeal, like theirs, is 
 directly to the people, not to any body of professors. But the Greek democ- 
 racy, says our author, “ had the inestimable advantage of leisure.” The Greek 
 temple therefore is an expression of utter tranquillity. The very essence of that 
 great art was deliberation. The architect was never hurried ; his inspiration 
 proceeded, not from impulse, but from conviction. He built slowly. But with 
 us he is pressed to the completion of his work amidst bustle and confusion. 
 The public is impatient of delay ; it must have promptness and despatch, at 
 all hazards. The modern Ictinus must supply the design for the new Par- 
 thenon, “ ready for estimates,” in three weeks at furthest ; and the unfinished 
 study is perpetuated in a workmanlike manner, with all its sins of omission 
 and commission made permanent and monumental. Indeed, all the conditions 
 of life in this country encourage the architect to habits rather of rapid com- 
 position than of study and reflection, and tend to make of his occupation rather 
 a business than a fine art. The “ strenuous liberty ” which we have inherited 
 involves a constant and often harassing struggle for existence. Therefore the 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 XV 11 
 
 aim of the architect is to multiply his opportunities of professional work to 
 the utmost extent, having in view, first, his pecuniary emoluments of course, 
 and, second, his art. Under these circumstances he has no time to review 
 his studies ; he cannot afford, after his first sketches are made and his work 
 in progress of routine development m his office, to distrust and chasten Ins 
 favorite motifs, with the solicitude and patience of an artist aiming at per- 
 fection like the Greek ; much less, having discovered on reflection a new 
 condition in his problem which would enable him perhaps to raise to a higher 
 plane of artistic excellence or fitness the whole sentiment of his work, to throw 
 aside his old labors and begin anew. This costs too much. If the products 
 of routine and of conventionality will satisfy his impatient public, he has 
 the strongest impulse under the circumstances to content himself with the 
 superficial appearance, and let the substance of art go for those who can afford 
 it. Art is a mistress who is won by no such partial service. 
 
 Notwithstanding the narrow path which they have chosen for themselves 
 and their peremptory exclusions, even if their efforts are misdirected in the 
 * manner and to the extent which M. Viollet-le-Duc maintains, there pervades 
 the schools of Paris an atmosphere of noble devotion to art. Whether this 
 comes from the inspiration of venerable traditions and monuments, or whether 
 it arises from a condition of society which enables respectability to be main- 
 tained at less expense and thus makes money less indispensable there than here, 
 — whether it is the result of any or all of these causes, the spectacle of lives 
 given up to art — sacrificed, from the mercantile point of view — is much 
 more common with the French than with us. It, would be impossible of 
 course, even if it were desirable, to make a Paris — even a Paris of art — in 
 this country. Our young architects may go to Paris, but they cannot bring 
 Paris here. Cœlum non animant mutant. Yet, to compare our conditions 
 of life as they affect the growth of artistic feeling with those of the French 
 or English is useful and indeed indispensable, not only to bring us to our 
 bearings, and, by comparison of results, to save us from the common sin of 
 complacency, but to enable us to understand the philosophy of the develop- 
 ment of distinctive styles, and to what extent these distinctions are due to 
 natural and necessary premises on the one hand and to artificial and remedi- 
 able causes on the other. It is impossible for us to enter upon any such 
 comparison, without discovering at an early stage that our state of society 
 is not such as necessarily to inspire the architect with high thoughts, or to 
 exact from him that serious study and self-denial without which there can 
 be no really great results. Civilization has no exponent more sensitive than 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xviii 
 
 architecture ; for it is an art not only absolutely indispensable, but one 
 which adapts itself practically and aesthetically to the condition of things 
 amongst which it grows. Of course individual genius, caprice, or invention 
 finds expression in it, but no individuality can control it. We may conceive 
 of the production of a perfect work of sculpture, painting, or music, or a 
 great achievement of literature, in the midst of a community which cannot 
 appreciate it and who had nothing whatever to do with giving it existence ; 
 but an architectural work, unless it is avowedly an imitation of some mon- 
 ument which has received the stamp of historical approval, notwithstanding 
 all the original invention which the architect may bestow upon it, is the out- 
 growth, to a great extent, of a prevailing sentiment. It cannot exist without 
 the sympathy of the people. It is an archive of history, having its birth in 
 necessity, and its peculiar characteristics in the conditions of life. The Re- 
 naissance of Italy, France, and England may have exhibited individualities 
 more than the ancient or mediaeval styles, but it was created respectively 
 neither by Arnolfo da Lapo, by Philibert Delorme, nor by Sir Christopher 
 Wren, nor yet by their followers, however illustrious. Their works were * 
 the unconscious expression of their eras. They were the instruments, and 
 not the authors, of styles. 
 
 To the sympathy of generous culture then we must mainly look to encour- 
 age the development of a fitting architectural expression of our time and place 
 in history ; professional culture and professional genius will eagerly arise under 
 the impulse of appreciation to meet the great emergency and to give it gram- 
 matical utterance. To the creation of this spirit of sympathy therefore this 
 reproduction of the earnest work of an illustrious Frenchman is humbly com- 
 mended and dedicated by 
 
 The Translator. 
 
J 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 TRANSLATOR’S INTRODUCTION iü 
 
 FIRST DISCOURSE. 
 
 What is Barbarism ?— What is Art? — What are the Relations of 
 Art to Civilization? — Wiiat are the Social Conditions most 
 FAVORABLE TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF AlIT ? 3 
 
 SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 Primitive Methods of Construction as practised in Greek Archi- 
 tecture . ........... 26 
 
 THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 Comparison between the Architecture of the Greeks and Romans 03 
 
 FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 The Architecture of the Romans ....... 9.~> 
 
 FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 The Methods to be followed in the Study of Architecture. — The 
 Basilicas of the Romans. — The Domestic Architecture of the 
 Ancients . . . . . . . . . . . .134 
 
 SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 The Decline of Ancient Architecture. — Style and Composition. — - 
 The Origins of Byzantine Architecture.— The Architecture 
 of the West since the Establishment of Christianity . 
 
 168 
 
XX 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 Tiie Principle of Western Architecture in the Middle Ages . . 251 
 
 EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 The Causes of the Decline of Architecture. — Some of the Prin- 
 ciples of Architectural Composition. — The Renaissance in the 
 West and especially in Prance ....... 332 
 
 NINTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 The Principles and Information necessary to Architects . . 402 
 
 TENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 The Architecture of the Nineteenth Century.— Method 
 
 . 472 
 
LIST OF PLATES. 
 
 Pace 
 
 I. The Lycian Sarcophagus. {In the British Museum.) . . .36 
 
 II. Construction of a Greek Temple 41 
 
 III. The Pantheon. Plan on two Levels ..... 107 
 
 IV. “ “ Details of Construction . . . . . 108 
 
 V. The Baths op Antoninus Caracalla. Plan . . . .117 
 
 VI. “ “ “ “ “ Ruins of the Frigidarium . 122 
 
 VII. “ “ “ “ “ Restoration of the Frigidarium 122 
 
 VIII. The Basilica of Fano. Plan 144 
 
 IX. “ “ “ “ Section on the Line A B in the Plan . . 147 
 
 X. “ “ “ “ Construction of the Roof . . . 148 
 
 XI. The Cathedral of Vézelay. Sections ..... 262 
 
 XII. The Church of St. Eutropius at Saintes. Aisle: Exterior . 283 
 
 XIII. The Cathedral of Peterborough. Part of the Nave : Interior . 286 
 
 XIV. The Cathedral of Paris. Completion of West Front . . 311 
 
 XV. The Château of Boulogne, called Madrid. Plan of First Floor 369 
 
 XVI. “ “ “ “ “ Part of principal Elevation 371 
 
 XVII. The Palace of the Tuileries. Plan, according to the Design of 
 
 Philibert De L'Orme . . . . . . . .376 
 
 XVIII. The Palace of the Tuileries. Part of the Garden Front in the 
 Design of Philibert De L'Orme 
 
 377 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 

 
 
 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 FIRST DISCOURSE. 
 
 WHAT IS BARBARISM? WHAT IS ART? - WIIAT ARE THE RELATIONS OF ART TO CIVILIZA- 
 TION Î-WHAT ARE THE SOCIAL CONDITIONS MOST FAVORABLE TO THE DEVELOPMENT 
 OF ART? 
 
 is evident that at certain times art lias been devel- 
 oped with singular energy, lias been honored, culti- 
 vated, and beloved, while at others it has fallen into 
 indifference, neglect, or even contempt. It is cus- 
 tomary to divide the history of art, accordingly, into 
 periods of glory and periods of barbarism. But it is 
 important at the outset to understand what is meant by barbarism. 
 
 I propose to prove that a people may be barbarous, according to 
 our modern point of view, - — that is, savage, superstitious, fanatical, 
 without order or system in any of its movements, governed by the 
 most imperfect laws, — -and yet possess very perfect arts ; and, on the 
 other hand, that a nation may be civilized and polished to the very 
 highest degree, organized under the most refined philosophy, and 
 adorned by the most polite manners, and yet, in its arts, be degraded 
 or even barbarous. 
 
 It needs no argument to show that barbarism, in the sense of 
 cruelty, can have no influence over the arts ; for history affords but 
 too many examples of the prevalence of this unhappy instinct of 
 human nature among people who have brought the arts to the very 
 highest degree of development. Thus, while the Greeks were build- 
 ing the Parthenon at Athens, they were plunged in all the cruelties 
 of the Peloponnesian war ; while the Romans were spreading their 
 civilization over the known world, and enriching their most distant 
 
4 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 possessions with monuments of admirable skill, they amused them- 
 selves with mortal combats between slaves who had no cause for 
 mutual hatred, and systematically gratified the savage curiosity of an 
 idle populace by casting human beings to be devoured by the wild 
 beasts of the circus. And in later times, while Christians were cov- 
 ering the East and West with the most inimitable works of art, they 
 were slaughtering and burning one another at the stake for mere dif- 
 ference of opinion on a dogma or on the interpretation of a text. 
 While Y ersailles and the Invalides were in process of erection, in the 
 midst of a truly Augustan era of poets and artists, the courts of jus- 
 tice of the seventeenth century were still barbarously sending to 
 the stake knaves or fools who called themselves sorcerers. 
 
 W e can therefore at once disembarrass our discussion of the word 
 barbarous in this sense, and consider it only in its broader signifi- 
 cation of uncivilized. 
 
 I propose to show that, when we would compare the condition of 
 art at different periods of the moral and political history of man, the 
 question involved is not whether this or that period was more or less 
 civilized than another, but whether it was distinguished for qualities 
 more or less favorable to the development of art. 
 
 It is evident, in the first place, that the different branches of civi- 
 lization do not all keep pace one with another in their progress. 
 Institutions, politics, science, letters, arts, do not develop together ; 
 otherwise, our institutions, our government, our scientific discoveries, 
 being in advance of those of the seventeenth century, for example, 
 our modern dramas should be better than the tragedies and comedies 
 of Racine and Molière, and our painters should leave far behind the 
 great Italian masters of the sixteenth century; for Julius II. did not 
 travel on a railroad, nor did Charles V. have an electric telegraph by 
 which to transmit his orders to all the provinces of his vast empire. 
 Art, above all, cannot be measured by any such symbols of material 
 progress and prosperity. It has its own value, which may be recog- 
 nized, not in its surroundings, but in its oavh truthfulness. 
 
 We all know that nations, like men, are nearer absolute barbarism in 
 their infancy than when fully civilized or matured, and that they re- 
 lapse into barbarism when the machinery which combined and brought 
 into harmonious relations their various parts is worn out, just as the 
 old man, whose organs have ceased to perform their functions with 
 regularity, falls into his second childhood. Every era of art has in 
 
WHAT IS ART? 
 
 ô 
 
 like manner its infancy, its moment of maturity, that inappreciable 
 interval between progress and decline, and its old age ; but in these 
 revolutions it never becomes barbarous so long as it remains true to 
 itself. Its infancy is an anticipation, its old age is a memory of its 
 maturer perfections. But when art studiously conceals or carelessly 
 disregards the principles on which it is based or the practical neces- 
 sities it is intended to satisfy ; when it yields to the fantastic caprices 
 of Fashion ; when it has become a mere plaything for a school of 
 artists, who act from impulse or custom and not from reason ; and 
 when, reflecting no longer the manners of a people, no longer pliant 
 to all the uses and degrees of life, it has become a mere matter of 
 luxury to the few and an affair of simple curiosity and wonder to the 
 many, — then it has ceased to be true art and has indeed relapsed 
 into barbarism. 
 
 But to arrive at a knowledge of truth nothing is more important 
 than to define terms. Let us understand what Art is ; for very 
 many talk about art without any real knowledge of their subject. 
 There are extant, indeed, many epigrammatic and sententious defini- 
 tions, whose only merit consists in displaying the sagacity of their 
 authors, and which are understood only by those who are as familiar 
 with the subject as the authors themselves. I shall affect no such 
 brevity. 
 
 In the Middle Ages there were seven “liberal arts”; but to-day, 
 with all due respect to the colleges and schools of exact learning and 
 moral philosophy, most of these “ liberal arts ” must be regarded as 
 sciences. Let. it be understood that by the arts we refer only to 
 Music, Architecture, Sculpture, and Painting. We place them 
 in this order because men uttered sounds before they built houses, 
 built houses before carving them, and carved before painting them ; 
 for only a sharp flint was required to carve wood or sandstone, but 
 to extract colors from vegetables and minerals and to apply them 
 where needed implied a course of reasoning and observation involv- 
 ing a certain amount of time and study. This order is adopted, not 
 because it is vitally necessary to our definition, but because it is 
 convenient and rational. As for poetry and pantomime, they are 
 necessarily akin to Music. These four arts are brothers : the first 
 two, Music and Architecture, are twins; for it will be observed that, 
 unlike Sculpture and Painting, they do not obtain their origin from 
 the imitation of natural objects. 
 
G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 There are certain natural desires which, to be gratified, express 
 themselves in a manner suggested by certain instincts of the soul, — 
 instincts which a long observation finally converts into rules. Thus, 
 man very soon discovered that language and signs were not suffi- 
 cient to manifest all his ideas ; he sought to move his fellows by 
 giving to his voice certain inflections, certain cadences, a rhythm, to 
 convey his thought more vividly. Children are not taught the art 
 of intonation, yet, whether born in Paris or Pekin, they sponta- 
 neously express their desires or sentiments by a peculiar stress or 
 rhythm of sounds, and these they assist by appropriate and natural 
 gestures, understood by all. Plere we have already a form of art. 
 Animals have no pantomime to give additional meaning to their 
 cries, which at most can express only immediate and personal sensa- 
 tions, such as joy, grief, terror, anger. Man alone foresees, hopes, 
 remembers, and, at his will, his voice gives just utterance to the senti- 
 ment which he desires to share with his fellows, though the cause or 
 object of his foresight, his hope, or his memory may, until then, have 
 been unknown to his hearers. Yet, if he says to a crowd of a hun- 
 dred men, “ The enemy is sacking your homes and slaughtering 
 your families,” in the same tone with which he would say, “ Come 
 to supper,” no one would move. But if his tones agree with his 
 words, if these tones are aided by a natural gesture, evidently in- 
 spired by the consciousness of imminent danger, he would at once 
 arouse the sympathy and indignation of his audience. 
 
 It is an important fact, and one worthy of careful consideration, 
 that this primitive form of art will act far more surely on primitive 
 than on highly civilized men : the latter would reason ; however 
 pathetic your accent, however expressive your voice, however true 
 and terrible your gesture, they would say, without allowing them- 
 selves to be overcome by the art which you have put into your tones 
 and your movements, “ Whence comes this improbable news ? ” 
 
 Prom the art of tones to melody the road is short, and Music is 
 born. Let us now examine architecture, to which we have given the 
 second rank of antiquity. 
 
 To build a hut with the branches of a tree is not art, it is simply 
 the fulfilment of a natural need ; but to excavate a dwelling in a 
 sandstone cliff, to divide the vaults into apartments of various sizes 
 to accommodate the number or occupations of the household ; cau- 
 tiously to leave pillars to support the ceiling ; to give to the caps of 
 
WIIAT IS AST? 
 
 7 
 
 these pillars a greater bearing surface, to avoid danger from the over- 
 hanging' rock resting upon isolated points of support ; then gradually 
 to cover these walls and pillars, left from the original mass, with in- 
 cisions, signs, destined to preserve the memory of an event, the birth 
 of a child, the death of a father or a wife, a victory over an enemy, — 
 this again is art. 
 
 It is needless to say more to prove that, music, together with 
 poetry and pantomime, which are its derivatives, and architecture, arc 
 the only arts in which primitive man developed certain creative fac- 
 ulties of his nature, in his desire to propagate his ideas, to preserve 
 his recollections or share his hopes, by associating with them a sound 
 or a form. 
 
 Sculpture and painting are to architecture what pantomime and 
 poetry are to music ; that is to say, derivatives, necessary conse- 
 quences. 
 
 A man more intelligent and stronger than his neighbors has slain 
 a lion ; he suspends its skin before the door of the cave which he 
 inhabits. The lion’s skin is destroyed ; he carves in the stone, as. 
 well as he can, something which resembles a lion, so that his chil- 
 dren and his neighbors may preserve forever the memory of his 
 strength and courage. But he wishes that this sign shall be seen 
 from afar, shall attract attention. He has noticed that red, among 
 all colors, is the most brilliant; so he daubs his sculptured lion with 
 red. By this it is intended to say, “ This is the house of the brave 
 man who knows how to defend himself and his property.” This is 
 art; it exists here entire, complete, and nothing remains but to per- 
 fect the manner of execution. By and by our primitive hero dies ; 
 his relatives excavate in the rock a room in which to deposit his 
 remains, then outside they carve a man fighting with a lion ; the 
 figure of the man must be large, that of the lion small, for the rela- 
 tives of the deceased wish that the passers-by should know that their 
 father, their husband, was a valiant man. Certainly, a little man 
 who kills a great lion is more courageous than a great man who kills 
 a little lion ; but this is a complex idea, which does not enter into 
 the mind of the primitive artist. In all the antique sculptured mon- 
 uments of India and even of Egypt, the conqueror is represented as 
 colossal, while his enemies, whom he defeats, are pigmies. 
 
 In the vestibule of St. Peter’s at Rome, Bernini has placed the 
 equestrian statue of Constantine, — a man who hung his father-in-law, 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 strangled his brother-in-law, butchered his nephew, decapitated his 
 oldest son, and drowned his wife in a bath ; who gave up to wild 
 beasts all the Frankish chiefs whom he conquered on the banks of 
 the Rhine, and finished his career by destroying the last remains of 
 the institutions of antique Rome, never to rise again. 
 
 Now the red lion carved on the door of the barbarian, or the com- 
 bat represented on his tomb, is more in conformity with the princi- 
 ples of art than this statue of the Emperor Constantine set up in the 
 vestibule of a Christian church : the lion may be a shapeless image, 
 the statue of Constantine an admirable work ; this has nothing to 
 do with the question, execution being foreign to the essential prin- 
 ciples of art. But when a privileged people, while religiously pre- 
 serving these essential and immutable principles, adds a taste for the 
 beautiful and the power of expressing it in visible forms, we can then 
 indeed say, “ Behold an artistic people ! ” 
 
 Now such a people once existed in a corner of Eastern Europe. 
 Yet, in a political point of view, the Athenians (to whom we refer) 
 may be regarded as one of the most capricious of nations ; to us 
 their unstable institutions were barbarous ; with respect to admin- 
 istration their ideas were vague and impracticable ; they were per- 
 fidious ; the populace were envious and greedy ; their leaders were 
 often tricky and corrupt ; they were ignorant of the art of printing, 
 the power of steam, the electric telegraph, the railroad : but, we must 
 confess, their orators, their poets, their philosophers, their architects, 
 and their sculptors remain superior to all that the most civilized 
 epochs have been able to produce Again, it is certain that the 
 ideas of this people concerning the structure of the human body were 
 incomplete as compared with our own ; anatomical science was less 
 cultivated in the time of Pericles than in our day, and we are not 
 informed that Athens possessed any amphitheatres ot dissection ; 
 yet how does it happen that Greek statuary is universally ad- 
 mitted to be superior to that of any subsequent age ? The govern- 
 ing machine of our modern civilization is evidently more complete 
 and better organized than that which directed the primitive civiliza- 
 tions of Greece and the Greek Archipelego. let the Iliad and the 
 Odyssey occupy a position above any other poems of the past or pres- 
 ent. Thus art has no vital connection either with civilization, sci- 
 ence, or politics. 
 
RELATIONS OF ART TO CIVILIZATION. 
 
 9 
 
 If it is well established, therefore, that the nature , and not the 
 degree , of civilization produces works of art, we must at once conclude 
 no longer to confound the advance of civilization or the industrial 
 arts with the advance of the fine arts ; Ave must be content to judge 
 of the latter without, regard to the laws, the prejudices, the customs, 
 more or less barbarous, of the people among whom they may be 
 developed, and must not infer that, because a nation is superstitious, 
 fanatical, disordered, its arts must necessarily be inferior to those 
 of another nation which is liberal, polished and Avell governed ; Ave 
 must unlearn our habitual contempt for the arts of uncivilized peoples 
 or periods, and bear in mind that such arts, however despised, may in 
 all the essentials be far superior to those which we are accustomed to 
 regard and to folloAv with scrupulous veneration. 
 
 An architectural student Avho devotes himself to the examination 
 of the arts of any period of social barbarism is no more open to the 
 reproach of entertaining a desire to retrograde towards such barba- 
 rism than are those AA r ho seek for inspiration among the arts of any 
 other anterior period, from those of the Indians to those of Louis 
 XV. ; for no one, I suppose, Avili contend that our social state is not 
 superior to the civilizations of antiquity, of the Middle Ages, or of the 
 last three centuries. We must be consistent. It would seem that 
 the arts either accompany, step by step, the material and moral pro- 
 gress of civilization, and that Ave have, therefore, attained the moment 
 of their greatest glory, as our civilization is superior to all that has 
 gone before us, and Ave must regard as relatively barbarous all an- 
 terior arts ; or the arts are quite independent of the moral and 
 material state of civilization, and that, therefore, the only guide to 
 preference of one expression of art over another is each man’s indi- 
 vidual taste or caprice. But both of these conclusions are frise. In 
 order to obtain an exact notion of the relative nature of anterior arts, 
 Ave must judge them according to certain laws, Avhose origin Ave 
 shall presently have occasion to indicate, — Lavs Avhicli are peculiar to 
 those arts, and entirely independent of the social state in the midst 
 of which they have been developed. 
 
 We, more than any other people of the civilized world, are the 
 creatures of conventionalities ; Ave live for centuries on vulgar 
 phrases ; Ave accept, as undisputed and indisputable facts, certain 
 sayings, lightly uttered by some man of Avit completely ignorant of 
 the study or the practice of art, and repeated through many indiffer- 
 ent generations. 
 
10 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Thus, there are in France certain ideas, like words corrupted by 
 nurses, which are mechanically repeated for ages, and no one seeks 
 to arrive at their true sense. But when presently there comes a 
 man who says to the people, “You deceive- yourselves ; you give 
 to this word a sense which does not belong to it ; examine its ety- 
 mology, restore its true meaning, and thus improve its usefulness 
 and free yourselves from the imputation of ignorantly uttering words 
 without knowing their value,” at once every one is ready to cry 
 “Anathema” to this corrupter of youth, who questions things which 
 have been consecrated by centuries. Protest as he may the purity 
 of his intentions, the reality of his claims ; invoke common sense 
 as he may, and furnish the most indisputable proofs, — still “Anath- 
 ema.” Two centuries ago they would have burned him and his books; 
 now, as neither men nor books are burned, he is merely regarded 
 as a dangerous or at least a troublesome fellow, a meddling busy- 
 body. Fie has endeavored to restore a misunderstood word to its 
 true meaning ; he is therefore charged with seeking to change the 
 language and drag it back into barbarism. He has striven to har- 
 monize speech with reason ; so he is stigmatized as one trying to 
 make people talk as men talked six or eight hundred years ago. 
 
 Now* it needs but a little dispassionate reflection to set forever at 
 rest the unprofitable disputes which in like manner divide and dis- 
 tract the realm of art. Every one has jumped at a conclusion on this 
 subject ; every one has adopted some conventional notion, and is 
 impatient of any change. In support of these ideas a hundred pages 
 are written, when only one is needed to prove them wrong. Scaliger 
 says that every war arises from a fault of grammar ; and so, as re- 
 gards art, it may be said that all disputes arise from the want of a 
 definition. 
 
 Art is a fountain of instinctive emotion reaching the soul of man 
 by various channels. Thus, the orator, the poet, the musician, the 
 architect, the sculptor or painter, all alike artists, may each in his 
 own language utter the same sentiment, and, to a certain extent, 
 arouse the same emotion in the heart of him who hears or sees. 
 These various forms of art appeal to the senses, and the senses, in 
 different ways, arouse the same series of ideas. For example, the 
 appearance of grief, the accent of grief, and the representation or 
 imitation of grief, create the same sentiment, pity. It is important 
 to understand, however, that there are certain ideas, such as those of 
 
THE ARTISTIC INSTINCT DEFINED. 
 
 11 
 
 philosophy and metaphysics, which are completely foreign to art 
 proper, whose peculiar domain in the heart is emotional. Every one 
 can readily understand the real object of art by referring to his 
 own experience. For there can be no one who, at least once in his 
 life, whether by the words of a poet or the notes of a musician, the 
 aspect of a monument, a statue, or a picture, has not been thrilled bv 
 a peculiar emotion, has not been subdued perhaps by a sympathetic 
 sadness, elated by an unexpected sensation of joy or hope, awed by 
 some new sentiment of grandeur, or tilled with gratified pride. It 
 would even seem that the further the arts are removed from imitation 
 of nature, the more apt are they to touch certain inward chords of 
 the soul with lasting and profound emotion. The accent or trick of 
 an orator, a gesture even, a musical phrase, a monument, may in- 
 stinctively bring tears to the eyes or thrill the nerves with indescrib- 
 able sensations. The sentiment thus aroused by one of the various 
 expressions of art is our artistic instinct. 
 
 Let us analyze this sentiment ; let us examine one by one these 
 secret fibres of the soul so sensitive to the appeal of art. 
 
 Natural phenomena produce on our minds, through the senses, 
 certain impressions quite distinct from the direct physical effect of 
 such phenomena. Thus a perfume may recall to our minds a per- 
 son, an event, a place. If the repetition of a mere accessory and 
 purely physical sensation like that of smell can bring us back to a 
 certain moral situation associated with a previous experience of the 
 same sensation, it is because there have been unconsciously estab- 
 lished within us intimate relations between the senses and our imagi- 
 nation. The noise of the sea, the murmuring of the wind, the ris- 
 ing or the setting of the sun, the aspect of a precipitous landscape 
 or of a green meadow, obscurity, light, awaken in the soul of man 
 moral sensations, a certain abnormal elevation of thought, which, in 
 default of another word, we call poetic. These sensations owe their 
 existence to the fact that to a purely physical impression produced 
 from without are joined ideas which we derive from within. Thus 
 the roaring of the billows is a noise with whose cause we are famil- 
 iar; why, then, do we listen to it for hours ? Why does it create in 
 our minds a peculiar impression, which is not joy, nor grief, nor im- 
 patience, nor weariness ? Because this grand harmony arouses certain 
 sentiments which are lying, as it were, dormant in the soul. But 
 suppose art, through the language of the musician, recalls to our 
 
12 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 minds the harmony of the waves ; instinctively the thoughts which 
 occupied us when on the sea-shore once more arise, once more we 
 seem to behold the immense ocean, and again to breathe in the fresh 
 smell of the beach ; the same poetic emotions elevate and till the 
 soul. Every branch of art exercises a similar power, and every artist 
 in his own sphere can command an equal range of thought. 
 
 But we see the ocean and hear the noise of its waters ; we there- 
 fore comprehend by what artifices the artist who appeals to the eye 
 or addi •esses himself to the ear can, each one in his own language, 
 recall the effect produced by the sea upon the senses, and by the 
 senses upon the mind. But we cannot hear the sun rise ; how, then, 
 can a symphony create in the mind the same sensations which are 
 produced by this daily phenomenon ? Why do we say, every day, 
 “ This bit of music is of ravishing brightness, — that is sombre and 
 fills the heart with gloom”? How can sounds be bright or som- 
 bre ? But they are so ; unhappy they who cannot sympathize with 
 the reality of this paradox in the language of the arts. 
 
 Let a man enter a low but extensive crypt, sustained by numerous 
 short and massive pillars : though he can walk and breathe there at 
 his ease, he will lower his head; only sad thoughts and serious images 
 will present themselves to his mind ; he will experience a sort of 
 inward oppression, a yearning for light and air. Let the same man 
 enter a structure whose vaulted ceiling soars far aloft, a temple in- 
 undated with air and light : he will raise his eyes, he will seem 
 to dilate with the ideas of grandeur which at once possess his 
 imagination. Here is a phenomenon which any one can observe 
 for himself. 
 
 Watch those who enter a low, dim apartment ; they will not at first 
 direct their eyes towards the roof, though so near to them, however 
 richly it may be adorned; but you behold their attention attracted 
 horizontally, then dropped to the pavement. It you do not warn 
 them, they will leave the room without knowing whether the vault is 
 decorated or plain. See, on the other hand, the traveller who enters 
 the basilica of St. Peter’s at Rome; from the very threshold his eyes 
 are at once attracted towards that immense dome which crowns the 
 structure. The pillars of the church are covered with marble ; mag- 
 nificent tombs adorn the walls ; he does not see them, but, advan- 
 cing, he seeks to penetrate the depths of the enormous cupola. 1 ou 
 must repeatedly admonish him that he is jostling against sculpture, 
 
CONCORD OF THE ARTS. 
 
 13 
 
 that he is walking upon porphyry, ere his attention is withdrawn 
 to objects near enough to enable their value to be exactly appre- 
 ciated. Long horizontal lines, vaults low or elevated, an apartment 
 sombre or brilliant, thus awaken in the human soul very different 
 sensations. This is natural, simple, and everybody can understand 
 it. But the human mind is complex ; by means of an inward 
 faculty whose machinery we do not comprehend, it establishes cer- 
 tain relations between appearances, sounds, and ideas, — relations 
 which, however strange they may be, are none the less real, since 
 we see them confessed by every individual of a crowd, gathered at 
 the same place and at the same moment. Thus (for Ave must refer 
 only to the most common phenomena if we would be understood), 
 why does the minor tone in music awaken different ideas from 
 the major tone ? We may say that there are in all arts a minor 
 and a major tone, and hence the infinite details which constitute 
 each one of the arts. 
 
 A blind man Avas asked if he had any idea of redness. “ Yes,” 
 replied he, “red is the sound of a trumpet.” 
 
 There is, then, an intimate mutual relation betAveen the expres- 
 sions of the various arts, because, as we have seen, these expressions 
 are drawn from the same source, and no nation can be truly artistic 
 which does not equally comprehend all. So an architect Avho, in 
 listening to an air or a poem, in beholding a piece of sculpture or 
 a painting, is not moved as deeply as when he examines a monu- 
 ment, is no artist in the highest sense of the term ; he is but a 
 practitioner : it is the same Avith the musician, the poet, the painter, 
 and the sculptor. Indeed, these relations between the different 
 fibres of the soul, thus deeply affected by the arts, are so intimate 
 that all men, and, above all, primitive men, children, have recourse 
 to metaphor Avhen they Avisli to communicate their ideas to others. 
 
 When we contemplate a nation which has expressed the highest 
 ideal of immortal beauty in forms or phases the memory of Avhich 
 has come down to us through the ages, though avc uoav can hardly 
 comprehend them, Ave may be sure that such great results Avere 
 brought about by the perfect mutual harmony of its music, its archi- 
 tecture, its sculpture, its painting, and its poetry, all inspired by the 
 same impulse and all contributing to the same end. The people Avho 
 first comprehended and realized the full poAver of this harmony 
 invented the theatre, which is the most complete expression of this 
 
14 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 unity of all the arts. Hence among all nations endowed with the 
 sentiment of art the theatre has become one of the most indispensa- 
 ble necessities. 
 
 Bold indeed was he who first ventured upon this orchestral union 
 of music, poetry, architecture, sculpture, and painting in the ancient 
 theatre, that together they might produce on the multitude a har- 
 monious sentiment, a homogeneous emotion (if I may use such a 
 word) ; who dared to develop out of these various elements of art a 
 symphony, as it were, in which each of them should utter at a given 
 moment a melodious and complete accord ! To what great results 
 was this temerity developed among the Greeks ! How thoroughly 
 was this artistic concord understood, and what emotions it awakened 
 in the midst of that accomplished people ! 
 
 But these concerts of the arts with all their effects upon the mul- 
 titude. were repeated in a later day. The Middle Ages were not 
 ignorant of this close mutual relation existing between the various 
 forms of art, when they built their churches, in which the architec- 
 ture, the imposing ceremonies, the music, the sculpture, the painting, 
 the voice of the orator, seemed to direct all souls to the same thought. 
 If antiquity possessed this scenic power in an exalted degree, the 
 mediaeval period, as we shall presently see, was no less richly en- 
 dowed. 
 
 Thus, then, in a philosophical point of view, art must be regarded 
 as an indivisible unity, assuming different forms to act upon the 
 minds of men ; and when these different forms are placed in concord 
 at the same place and time, when, actuated by the same inspiration, 
 they employ the method peculiar to each to move the senses, they 
 produce the most vivid and lasting emotion which thinking beings 
 can experience. 
 
 I still retain, distinct and fresh in my mind, the recollection of a 
 childish emotion, though the circumstance which I am about to 
 relate occurred at a time the impressions of which are usually ot the 
 vaguest character. I was often confided to the care of an old do- 
 mestic, who led me to walk wherever his fancy dictated. One day 
 he took me into the church of Notre Dame, carrying me in iiis arms, 
 for the crowd was great. My attention was attracted by the glass of 
 the south rose-window, through which the rays of the sun penetrated, 
 colored by the most radiant hues. I still seem to see the spot where 
 we were stopped by the crowd. Suddenly the grand organs broke 
 
THE PHILOSOPHY OF IDOL-MAKING. 
 
 15 
 
 into music ; to me, it was the rose before my eyes which sang. My 
 olcl guide sought in vain to undeceive me ; under this impression, 
 more and more lively when I imagined that such panels of glass 
 produced the grave tones, and such others uttered the high and 
 piercing ones, I was seized with such great terror that it was neces- 
 sary to take me out. It seems, therefore, that it is not education 
 alone which establishes within us these intimate relations between 
 the various expressions of art. 
 
 The epochs which have been so favored by Heaven as to be able thus 
 to express the various language of true art, must ever be regarded as 
 the most precious in the history of the human mind. The duration 
 of such an epoch may be brief ; but this detracts no more from its 
 value than the transient life of a flower injures the quality of its per- 
 fume, the vivacity of its colors, or the admirable purity of its petals. 
 
 We have many misunderstandings concerning the word “ art ” to get 
 rid of; it must be understood that in speaking of art we do not 
 refer to such arts as that of the veterinary surgeon or that of verify- 
 ing dates. In this indiscriminate use of the word we have forgotten 
 its origin and real meaning; for art is well born, but readily falls 
 into bad company. We must rest upon the principle that art, like 
 morality and reason, is a distinct definite unity. Institutions are 
 different and variable ; but among all nations, whatever their insti- 
 tutions, morality and the exercise of the faculty of reason are invari- 
 able; all men are born barbarous, but apt to comprehend the 
 immutable rules of morality, apt to reason and avail themselves of 
 their reasoning powers for the sake of self-preservation, self-defence, 
 and possession, enjoyment, life. These three faculties of compre- 
 hending art, of teaching and practising morality, of acting intelli- 
 gently, are peculiar to man. 
 
 A dog makes no distinction between a stone post and a statue, 
 between a picture of Titian and a curtain ; and if Greek birds 
 have ever picked at grapes painted on a panel, it is because such 
 birds were not made like those of our day. If, as is pretended, 
 Alexander’s horse neighed on beholding the portrait of his master, it 
 was because Alexander’s horse was more than an animal. But there 
 is no savage who will not see in a statue the representation of a being 
 with whom he is familiar ; yet the savage will make no distinction 
 between a statue by Phidias and a stone carved in rude semblance 
 of a human being. 
 
1 G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 The savage attaches to such an image an idea completely foreign 
 to its value as a piece of handiwork. As a child he has been told, 
 “ This coarsely carved block is the god who presides over combats, 
 who will give you victory over your enemies if you bring fruits to 
 him every day.” This block, however shapeless, becomes in his 
 eyes a superior being ; he attributes to it sentiments, he fears it, he 
 sees it in his dreams and in his combats, his imagination endows it 
 with passions. If the savage is an Indian or an Egyptian, soon he 
 desires that this imaginary form should be materialized. To this 
 end, why should he seek to imitate the natural forms around him? 
 He gives his idol the head of an animal on a human body; he adds 
 ten arms, he paints it with red or blue. He has been struck by the 
 proud, noble, or ferocious aspect of a certain bird of prey ; he seizes 
 the principal traits of this aspect, he exaggerates them, he instinc- 
 tively idealizes the natural lineaments, and he places this head, thus 
 transformed, on his god of combats. No one dreams of disputing; 
 all accept the myth. But that his idol may obtain due respect, it 
 must needs be colossal, and impose as much by its grandeur and ap- 
 parent material power as by its combination of these creative ideas ; 
 or it must be withdrawn from public gaze in some sombre place. 
 So it is carved out of a rock, or placed at the end of a narrow crypt 
 to which access is gained only by passing through a diminishing 
 series of grottos. The workman himself, who gives shape to this 
 idea, sees nothing strange in the respect and terror with which his 
 fellows enter these caves ; he himself feels the same sentiments, 
 though the idol is the work of his own hands. While engaged in 
 his labor he is entirely occupied with the purpose of giving form to 
 his imagination ; lie sees only the stone and his chisels. But when 
 the idol is finished and placed in its crypt, he fears it and renders to 
 it the same homage as his neighbor who had no hand in the making 
 of it; the artist has become the dupe of his own workmanship; he 
 no longer beholds the brute stone to which he lias given a form, he 
 sees but the realization of his thought ; the material labor has passed 
 from his recollection ; his handiwork is a god for him as for all. 
 Nor must it be supposed that this disposition of the human mind is 
 peculiar to primitive people ; it is natural to all men and in all times. 
 The intelligent child who carves a doll out of a block of wood will 
 attribute to this coarse figure ideas and thoughts which do not exist 
 for him in the perfect doll from the toyshop ; he will name it, he 
 
THE PHILOSOPHY OP IDOL-MAKING. 
 
 17 
 
 will place it near him while he sleeps ; sometimes, I have observed, 
 this image will be but a strange assemblage of nameless forms, the 
 product of a dream of the young mind which has been animated by 
 the desire of expressing an idea which no one can express for him ; 
 this desire is art. Thus art is form given to a thought, and the artist 
 who creates this form aims thus to inspire others with the same idea. 
 For the architect, art is the sensible expression, the material public 
 manifestation, of a satisfied desire. 
 
 Even in our civilized state, do we not every day see children, nay, 
 grown men, prefer an imperfect, conventional image to a perfect 
 engraving? Do we not see them attaching to this imperfect image 
 ideas which do not exist for them in an excellent work ? We be- 
 lieve this sentiment should not be disdained as the result of igno- 
 rance. It is a sentiment which arises from a pure source, it is a 
 necessity ; though indeed, through fault of education, it tends towards 
 barbarism. 
 
 This primitive desire which prompts men to create idols has its rise 
 in a concurrence of ideas : (1.) There is the love of man for his own 
 handiwork, the sentiment of vanity which prompts the act of crea- 
 tion ; (2.) the idea of especial sanctity which the object created ac- 
 quires by consecration ; (3.) the consciousness of having expressed 
 divinity in creating a work outside of nature. An Indian who makes 
 a monster surmounted by an elephant’s head and possessing ten arms, 
 is certain that he has produced a supernatural, and therefore a divine 
 work. His neighbors on beholding this idol are awe-stricken ; for 
 to them it is the expression of divine power. All people have begun 
 by making their statues monstrous before dreaming of imitating 
 nature. The earliest heads of Medusa among the Greeks had wild 
 boar’s tusks and enormous jaws. But when a people, like the 
 Greeks, unites to these primitive sentiments of art the love of the 
 beautiful, and more especially is offended at that which is ugly, in- 
 harmonious, vulgar, that people has attained the highest pinnacle of 
 art. The Greeks finally made the monstrous head of Medusa a mask 
 of ravishing beauty, but the sculptor, nevertheless, always aimed at 
 producing the same effect of terror ; as the public became more in- 
 telligent and polished, he understood that deformity or exaggeration 
 would rather cause disgust than fear, and it became his task to teach 
 them how a creature could be malevolent and terrible without being 
 ugly. More than this, — he felt that the intelligent society around 
 
18 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 him could be moved as lie desired only by beauty, and that beauty 
 was the only guise under which his idea could be admitted to their 
 hearts. 
 
 Yet such an epoch may, to our civilized eyes, be barbarous, that is, 
 delivered up to fanaticism governed by prejudices, possessing imper- 
 fect laws, living under an insupportable tyranny, having neither ad- 
 ministration nor police, holding half the population in slavery, and 
 without order or system. All this does not prevent art from being a 
 language universally understood there. 
 
 We have endeavored to explain how men are enlightened by the 
 first glimmerings of art. Imagination is its source; imitation of 
 nature, its means. Man, absolutely speaking, cannot create ; he can 
 only, by bringing together and comparing the elements of divine 
 creation, give birth to what may be called a creation of a second 
 order. But it must here be observed that the human imagina- 
 tion would produce only evasive dreams if man did not possess 
 an inward impulse which forces him to define and give body to 
 those dreams. This impulse is his reason, or rather his power of 
 ratiocination. 
 
 This natural faculty indicates to him that the more the creations 
 of his imagination depart from the reality, the more it becomes him 
 to give to the material traits by which he would make those creations 
 intelligible to the eye, a cohesion, a harmonious form. The human 
 imagination conceives the idea of a centaur, that is to say, an im- 
 possible creature, unlike anything in nature, an animal with four feet 
 and two arms, two pairs of lungs, two hearts, two livers, two stom- 
 achs, two abdomens, etc. An Iroquois can conceive such an absurd- 
 ity ; only a Greek has succeeded, by means of his faculty of ratioci- 
 nation, in giving to this impossible being an intelligible form. This 
 faculty led him to observe how the different parts of an animal are 
 mutually united : he attached the spinal column of a man to that of 
 a horse ; the shoulders of the latter gave place to the hips of the 
 former. He joined the abdomen of the man to the breast of the 
 quadruped with so nice an address that the most skilful might be- 
 lieve that he beheld there an exact and delicate study from nature. 
 The impossible in this way became so intelligible, that even for us 
 to-day the centaur seems to be an actual being, as real to us as a dog 
 or cat. But there comes a philosopher, who, with the works of 
 Cuvier in his hands, demonstrates that this creature with which you 
 
TIIE ANTAGONISM BETWEEN ABT AND SCIENCE. 19 
 
 are as familiar as if you had seen him running in the woods, could 
 never exist ; that it is a scientific absurdity ; that it could neither 
 walk nor digest ; that its two pairs of lungs, its two hearts, are the 
 most ridiculous of suppositions. Now, which is the barbarian, the 
 philosopher or the Greek sculptor? Neither, perhaps ; but the philo- 
 sophic observation proves to us that art and the exact knowledge of 
 things, art and science, art and civilization, may be very distinct from 
 each other. How does it affect me, an artist, when a philosopher 
 proves to me that a certain creature cannot exist, if I have a con- 
 sciousness that it does exist, if I am familiar with its gait and its 
 habits, if in imagination I see it in the forest, if I attribute to it 
 passions and instincts? Why deprive me of this possession? Will 
 the philosopher gain anything in proving to me that I mistake 
 chimeras for realities ? Certainly the Greeks of the age of Aristotle 
 knew enough about anatomy to recognize the fact that a centaur 
 cannot exist ; but they respected art as much as science, and 
 would not permit them to reciprocally destroy each other. Artists 
 at once comprehend that a nation possessing these attributes is 
 not barbarous. In Greek sculpture, how many scientific irregu- 
 larities we behold, how many anatomical faults ! Yet whence the 
 nobility which seems to illuminate its works? Why does a Greek 
 statue, though in the midst of a museum, mutilated, out of place, in 
 a false light, mounted on a pedestal too often ridiculous, — why does 
 it still maintain a bearing so distinguished that all other sculpture 
 seems awkward and vulgar in its presence ? Were the Athenians all 
 royal in their bearing, in the delicacy and beauty of their forms ? 
 Certainly not. It is art which has given to their bodies this inimita- 
 ble ideal distinction ; art has made them undergo a new creation. 
 Art may be found among other people, in the midst of other civiliza- 
 tions, but it must ever be developed in the same manner, its principle 
 must proceed from the imagination, and it must be expressed through 
 nature, not by becoming her slave, but by knowing her secrets. A 
 sculptor created the centaur, and knew how to render the fiction cred- 
 ible by scrupulously observing the mechanism and the minutest details 
 of actual creation ; it. is by the excessive delicacy of his observation 
 of nature, that he caused his creation of the second order to be 
 recognized by all, by the poet, even, who, in his turn, gave to this 
 being manners, habits, and particular ideas. But think you these 
 kinds of creations are peculiar to primitive people ? Does not art 
 
20 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 to-day intervene to give an appearance of reality to fiction ? Hoes it 
 not always proceed in the same manner? 
 
 Let ns suppose yon are a poet or writer of romance ; you wish 
 to give the appearance of reality to a fable ; you imagine some 
 impossible thing, an apparition, for instance ; you are aware that 
 your auditors do not believe in apparitions ; how must you proceed, 
 then, to cause your fable to affect their minds as with the impres- 
 sion of a real event ? You take pains to describe the locality of 
 your story, to give to every object an appearance of reality ; every- 
 thing in your picture must have body, every person must be clear 
 and distinct in features and in character ; you leave nothing vague 
 or indecisive ; and when your scene is so vividly pictured that your 
 auditors have become, as it were, actors in the story, let your 
 phantom appear. Immediately all that which is improbable in 
 your tale will assume an appearance of reality, — an appearance which 
 will be striking in proportion to the degree of exactness with which 
 your preliminary descriptions have been traced after nature. This 
 is art. Helen, in the Iliad, would be but an odious creature, not- 
 withstanding her beauty, and the Trojan war the most ridiculous 
 of expeditions, if the poet had not been an artist in the true mean- 
 ing of the word. Had he dwelt upon the charms of Helen, had 
 he compared them to lilies and roses, the reader would have re- 
 mained unmoved, and would have despised them, her, her lover, 
 her husband, and all the Greeks and Trojans together. The poet 
 does better than describe to us the whiteness of her skin and the 
 sapphire of her eyes ; he shows us the old men of Troy seated 
 together and engaged in the most bitter discussion concerning the 
 wife of Menelaus, the cause of their long sufferings and of the 
 death of so many warriors. Helen passes by ; instantly the old 
 men arise and are silent in the presence of her majestic beauty. 
 This is the sublimest effect of art. After this passage of the Iliad 
 every reader will pardon Paris, and will understand the slaughter 
 of so many heroes ; the cause of the war no longer seems absurd, 
 and its attendant misfortunes and disasters are imputed to Destiny. 
 Thus the Greeks still remain kings of art. They comprehended 
 the nature of man, and, better than this, they elevated his intellect, 
 his instincts, passions, and sentiments by appealing always to the 
 noblest side of his character. They knew how to depict the most 
 vulgar actions and objects without vulgarity. Their imitators have 
 
THE ARTISTIC INSTINCT STIELED BY CIVILIZATION. 21 
 
 to a greater or less degree approached this nobility without attaining 
 it ; for to equal them, it needs not only to know the secret of then- 
 art, but to have, like them, sympathy and appreciation from a whole 
 nation. Odi profanum vulgus et arceo, said Horace ; but Horace 
 was an expatriated Greek, surrounded by barbarians. There was 
 no poet, architect, or sculptor of Athens who could have had occasion 
 to cry, “ I hate and avoid the vulgar rabble,” — for there was none 
 such there. 
 
 The art which we discover in the poetry and sculpture of the 
 Greeks we also find in their architecture ; for a people is not truly 
 artistic, unless art is applied to all the works of its hands and its 
 intelligence. Architecture, moreover, is, with music, one of the forms 
 of art in which the creative faculty of man is most independently 
 developed. It does not receive its inspirations from natural objects, 
 but follows laws established to meet certain necessities. These laws 
 are the result of reasoning. But how and why does art concern itself 
 with the simple satisfaction of a material desire ? Because art is 
 born with man, and, unless his nature is perverted, it is perhaps his 
 first desire 
 
 Education alone can stifle this inner sentiment, and, unhappily, 
 this sad result is too often reached in times especially proud of their 
 civilization. Art is perhaps the most delicate of human instincts ; 
 as soon as one can hear and see, he possesses it ; its purity is readily 
 lost, but to develop it is a task at all times difficult, and especially 
 so in the midst of a civilization like ours, which pretends to direct 
 every individual according to certain conventionalities and doctrines. 
 Now, we cannot direct art among a people ; we can only create an 
 atmosphere favorable to its development. It is the greatest and the 
 imperishable glory of Greece that her civilization admirably under- 
 stood this principle. 
 
 W e suffer a wrong to-day which we cannot remedy ; we have 
 come too late into the world. The ancients, in preceding us, have 
 robbed us of the simple and beautiful ideas which we otherwise 
 perhaps would have had. We cannot, like them, act according to a 
 unique system. With us, the duty of the artist has become very 
 difficult. We labor under an infinity of old prejudices and habits 
 belonging to dead civilizations, and besides these, we have our own 
 complex modern needs, habits, and conventionalities. But, like the 
 ancients, we still retain the faculty of reasoning and, to a certain 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 oo 
 
 extent, that of feeling. It is by means of these two faculties that we 
 should seek for the true and beautiful. . I am convinced that we 
 can bring the taste of our generation to perfection by making it 
 reason. Observe that, in many cases, reason accounts for the judg- 
 ment which taste has pronounced. Very often (perhaps always) the 
 sentiment of taste is but an involuntary and inappreciable act of 
 reason. To acquire taste is only to become habituated to the good 
 and the beautiful ; but to become habituated to the beautiful we 
 must learn how to find, or rather how to choose it ; now, to enable 
 us to make this choice, we must call to our aid the faculty of reason- 
 ing. On beholding a certain building our whole spirit is at once 
 charmed, and we cry, “ What a beautiful structure ! ” But this in- 
 stinctive judgment is not enough for us artists ; we ask ourselves, 
 “ Why is this structure beautiful? ” We wish to discover the causes 
 of the effect which it produces on us ; and in order to do this, we 
 must have recourse to reason. We then seek to analyze all parts of 
 the work which charms us, so that we may avail ourselves of the 
 composition when we would design in our turn. Embarrassed as 
 we are by prejudices and doctrines, all of which have the singular 
 pretension of being absolute, this analysis is at the present day diffi- 
 cult. Let us, however, endeavor to free ourselves from these embar- 
 rassments. 
 
 I 1 relieve that I have shown how a people may be barbarous 
 and yet possess highly developed arts ; how the presence of art is 
 recognized in a human work ; how it happens that art may dwell in 
 a cabin or a cave and be excluded from the palace or from the great- 
 est temple : it remains for me to indicate what social conditions are 
 most favorable to its development. This question cannot be solved 
 in a paragraph. I propose to consider it in future discourses. At 
 present I confine myself to laying down some general principles. 
 
 The arts have been developed and have fallen into decay under all 
 social forms ; under the theocratic government of the Egyptians, un- 
 der the capricious and unsteady government of the Greeks, under the 
 administrative government of the Romans, under the oligarchical or 
 anarchical republics of Italy, and under the feudal yoke of the Middle 
 Ages. That which we call form of government, therefore, has no 
 influence over art. Arts, on the contrary, are actively developed when 
 they are associated with and express the manners and customs ot a 
 nation ; but when separated from those manners to form, as it were, 
 
THE ARTISTIC INSTINCT STIFLED BY CIVILIZATION. 23 
 
 an institution apart from them, the arts decline, gradually become 
 shut up and isolated in academies, and presently adopt a language 
 and a manner of expression no longer rational. Then art is like a 
 foreigner, only occasionally entertained, and strange to the ordinary 
 life of the people ; and finally it disappears, for it becomes an em- 
 barrassment instead of an assistance ; it pretends to rule, but has no 
 subjects. Art can live only when free in its expression but submis- 
 sive in its principles ; it dies when, on the contrary, its principle is 
 forgotten and its expression enslaved. Art became extinct among 
 the Greeks when their genius was stifled under the Roman yoke, and 
 when they wished to build at Athens monuments like those of Rome. 
 Nearer to our own time, the arts of the Middle Ages accompanied step 
 by step the manners of the people among whom they were developed ; 
 they participated in the grand intellectual movement of the sixteenth 
 century ; under Louis XIV. they were still the living expression of the 
 manners of the time ; but, like those manners, they were exceptional, 
 a kind of theatrical representation which finished with the reign of 
 that prince. Since then our manners have undergone a singular 
 modification, and in the seventeenth century art ceased to develop 
 form. As for its principles, they have been buried ; my readers 
 shall judge of this. 
 
 I perceive that all primitive civilizations had the same physical 
 and intellectual needs, and possessed nearly the same creative power 
 as regards art, in which they expressed a certain simple and very 
 restricted order of ideas. The task of the artist was then compara- 
 tively easy ; he was not obliged to load his memory with that multi- 
 tude of details which, with us, impede even the earliest natural 
 flights of imagination ; he was embarrassed by no accumulation of 
 precedent. The first of all sciences, that of the human heart, is easy 
 to acquire, when, as happens among people whose civilization is but 
 slightly developed, everybody lives openly in the fields or in the 
 public places, and when the sentiments, passions, vices, virtues, tastes, 
 and desires of mankind are subject to none of the artificial restric- 
 tions of custom. The primitive artist was but an observer, not a 
 student ; he made the most of a social state whose simple mechanism 
 was always before his eyes. Thus the Egyptians, the Eastern and 
 Western Greeks, and the Etruscans, whose monuments are familiar to 
 us, give evidence, in their art, of an observation of gesture so truth- 
 fid and delicate that modern effort is challenged in vain to surpass it. 
 
24 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 This same peculiarity we again recognize in the West in the twelfth 
 century. The Trench sculptors and painters of that era, though they 
 had taken no lessons in style before the bas-reliefs of Thebes, or 
 the vases of Etruria and Greece, followed the same principles as the 
 artists of antiquity. This concurrence arises from the fact that all 
 these artists deduced their results from the same phenomena. Ges- 
 ture can be reproduced in the plastic arts only when it is the expo- 
 nent of a simple sentiment, and sentiment is simple only among 
 primitive men. In a highly civilized state, on the other hand, all 
 sentiment is complex, divided. When the wife of a savage dies, he 
 only comprehends that he has lost a being with whom he has lived. 
 But to the immediate grief caused by such a fact a civilized man 
 unites other sentiments : embarrassments, fears, hopes of fortune 
 raised or lost, all the altered details of a very complicated state of 
 existence. How can so many sentiments be expressed by a gesture ? 
 If, then, we may infer from their gestures how far men are advanced 
 in civilization, and if among civilized and refined people gestures 
 cease entirely, what is left to inspire the plastic arts? Must the 
 modern artist, when he would express a sentiment in his art, content 
 himself with an imitation of gesture, as interpreted in the sculpture 
 and pottery of his rude forefathers ? Such a second-hand proceed- 
 ing would seem to be pedantic, false, and artificial ; the artist is no 
 longer understood by his contemporaries. He seeks style, and speaks 
 of it among a people who are not in a condition to know what style 
 is ; whereas the primitive artist unconsciously expressed style in his 
 works and was universally comprehended. 
 
 That which we say of gesture may be applied to the whole do- 
 ' main of art. It is easy for an architect to erect a temple in honor of 
 a mythical divinity, the representative of a passion, a principle, or 
 even of a part of the order of creation ; for this myth has a body, a 
 sensible appearance, attributes ; such a thing belongs to him, such 
 another is adverse to him. But to build a temple to the Christian 
 God is a more difficult task ; for in Him everything is united, He 
 presides over all, He is the beginning and the end, He is space. 
 How can we make a dwelling for Him who is everywhere, how can 
 Ave express in stone this abstract idea of Divinity, Iioav make it under- 
 stood that an edifice is the house of God ? The mediaeval artists 
 undertook this task with some success; and how? They made the 
 Christian church an exponent of creation, as it were ; they expressed 
 
CONSTRUCTION OF A GREEK TEMPLE. 
 

 
 
 
ART TO PROGRESS BY PRINCIPLES, NOT BY IMITATIONS. 
 
 in it, as in an epic of universal stone, all tilings in the visible and 
 invisible order of creation. The task was imposed upon them, and 
 their glory is all the greater if they succeeded. 
 
 We should therefore be modest, and consider carefully before ap- 
 plying the epithet of barbarians to those who have preceded us in art. 
 Yet I am not among these who despair of the present while gazing 
 regretfully at the past. The past is irrevocable ; but it becomes us to 
 study it with care and sincerity, to cherish it, not that we may re- 
 vive, but that we may understand and be made wise by it for the 
 fulfilling of our own duties. I cannot admit the propriety of im- 
 posing upon our own age any reproduction of antique or mediaeval 
 forms of art, or those of the academies of Louis XIV., precisely 
 because those forms were the exponents of the times to which they 
 belonged, and because the manners and customs and requirements of 
 this nineteenth century do not resemble those either of the Greeks, 
 the Romans, the feudal epochs, or the seventeenth century ; but the 
 principles which guided the art of the past are true, and the same for 
 all time, and will never change so long as men are made of the same 
 clay. Let us, then, endeavor to submit ourselves anew to them ; let 
 us examine how our predecessors translated these principles by forms 
 which were the true art expression of their respective eras, and then, 
 with the best wisdom of experience, let us proceed freely and unim- 
 peded by narrow prejudice in what we may justly call the path of 
 prog ress. Since, in the midst of the modern chaos, reason has not 
 deserted us, let us use this divine faculty to guide and control our 
 practice in art. 
 
SECOND DISCOURSE. 
 
 CONCERNING PRIMITIVE METHODS OF CONSTRUCTION AS PRACTISED IN GREEK 
 
 ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 N the preceding discourse I have endeavored to de- 
 tine what I understand by Art, to explain how it is 
 developed, the principles of its progress, its different 
 expressions. We must now limit our subject, and 
 occupy ourselves more especially with one of the forms 
 of art, — Architecture. I shall speak but incidentally 
 of the architecture previous to the Greek epoch, my aim being to 
 treat of the systems used by the nations of the West, — systems 
 whose spirit, development, and methods have been directed towards 
 the same idea of incessant progress. Now, the Greeks were the 
 first who opened the path of progress to the civilizations of the 
 W est. ; the first who threw aside the swaddling-clothes in which the 
 East seemed enveloped, and desirous of enveloping the whole world 
 forever. 
 
 Let us, then, enter at once upon our subject. 
 
 There still remain in Greece and in her colonies monuments of 
 great antiquity and of immense interest to archaeology, but of whose 
 origin, history, structure, and destination I know too little to be jus- 
 tified in dwelling on them here. I would not incur the reproach of 
 speaking concerning things unfamiliar to me. Let other professors, 
 much more versed than I in this particular study, impart elsewhere 
 the results of their researches ; all that I could say regarding monu- 
 ments which I have not myself examined, drawn, measured, and 
 analyzed, and with which I am acquainted only by descriptions or 
 engravings, would have but little value when compared with the 
 learned discussions of those who have devoted themselves to such 
 
ORIGIN OF THE GREEK TEMPLE. 
 
 27 
 
 specialties. So far as practicable, I propose to treat only of that 
 which I have seen, and which, consequently, I, as an architect, can 
 exactly describe and appreciate. I would add that I would not 
 venture to speak of the origins and , qualities, the progress, errors, 
 and decline of an art, unless I had devoted my leisure to studying 
 it at length, to penetrating its mysteries and understanding its lan- 
 guage. I trust my readers will appreciate any reticence I prefer 
 to maintain because of my feeble respect for preconceived ideas, 
 and because I have not the happy faculty of speaking about what 
 I do not know. 
 
 Many authors and professors have pretended that Greek temples 
 of stone or marble are, as structures, but traditions of wooden con- 
 struction. This hypothesis may be ingenious, but it does not ap- 
 pear to me to be based on an attentive observation of the monuments 
 in question. Those who first maintained this hypothesis had no 
 knowledge, or, at most, but a very superficial knowledge, of Greek 
 architecture, and, as often happens, subsequent authors, writing on 
 the same subject, have found it more easy to reproduce this hypothe- 
 sis than to examine critically into its probability. “ The Greek tem- 
 ple,” most of them assert, “ is derived from construction in carpen- 
 try ; the columns are barked trees ; the capitals are pieces of wood 
 serving as projecting caps to receive the horizontal beams ; the tri- 
 glvphs are the ends of the joists over the porticos ; the inclined 
 eaves, the extremities of the rafters of the roof upon which a plank 
 is nailed ” ; and so on. At first sight all this appears plausible ; but 
 the theory encounters a difficulty in the very outset. This is, that 
 primitive wooden structures were circular, composed of a series of 
 trunks of trees whose bases were planted on the circumference of a 
 circle, and whose summits were brought together conically. Even 
 Vitruvius, an author worth consulting for the sake of his antiq- 
 uity, who gives us all the stories probably extant in the schools of 
 his day about the origin of Ionic and Corinthian capitals, but who 
 was a critic of only ordinary abilities, notwithstanding the respect 
 which is due to him, — Vitruvius speaks of the primitive wooden 
 cabin, and he is far from pretending that such forms were imitated 
 in the Doric temples of Greece. Hear what he says in Chapter III. 
 Book II. : — 
 
 “ At first men made their huts of poles disposed conically, inter- 
 laced with branches and plastered with clay. Some built walls with 
 
28 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 blocks of dried mud ; then laying pieces of wood across the top, they 
 covered them with reeds and leaves as a protection against the heat 
 and rain ; but, as these coverings would not guard against the 
 weather in winter, they at length inclined the roofs and plastered 
 them with clay, to enable them to shed water.” 
 
 But here the text of Vitruvius becomes more curious : “ It is evi- 
 dent that the earliest habitations were built in this manner, from the 
 fact that even now, in Gaul, Hispania, Portugal, and Aquitania, simi- 
 lar structures may be seen, covered with split oak shingles or vine 
 branches. Among the people of Asia Minor and Colchis, where 
 forests are abundant, we find similar buildings. After laying hori- 
 zontally on the right and left two trunks of trees their own length 
 apart, the natives place two others at right angles across their ends, 
 to enclose the space destined for the habitation. Then they lay upon 
 these along the sides of the square other trunks in a similar manner, 
 their ends resting on the angles, and by successive layers at length 
 reach the requisite height ; the spaces between are filled with chips 
 and mud. For the roof, they continue these successive layers, using 
 shorter and shorter trunks, till they reach the apex of a pyramid ; 
 and, covering the whole with leaves and clay, they compose, in their 
 barbarous way, a tent-like roof. But the country-people of Phrygia, 
 having no forests to furnish materials, excavate the natural hillocks, 
 with a hollow, trough-like path to give access to the interior as well 
 as circumstances permit ; around the space thus excavated poles are 
 planted, inclining conically towards a common centre where they are 
 secured ; these they cover with thatch and reeds, and heap earth over 
 the whole cone, thus rendering their huts warm in winter and cool 
 in summer. In other countries the houses are covered with marsh 
 reeds. At Athens the huts of the Areopagus, built of mud, are still 
 exhibited as a curiosity on account of their antiquity ; and in our 
 own capital the cabin of Romulus, covered with thatch, enables us 
 to understand this primitive method of building.” 
 
 These examples are enough to prove that the primitive wooden 
 hut has no resemblance to a Greek temple ; it is almost always a 
 cone or a pyramid, and, in fact, the first idea naturally suggested by 
 the necessity of making a shelter with trees, is to plant them in a 
 circle and bring them together at their summits. To this day the 
 savage tribes of Africa pursue this course. 
 
 But let us come to details : Let us suppose that a man, knowing 
 
THEORY OF CONSTRUCTION IN WOOD. 
 
 29 
 
 nothing about construction, wishes to lay pieces of wood across the 
 tops of posts ; let us suppose that this man is intelligent, as were cer- 
 tainly the indigenous or aboriginal peoples of Greece ; and that he 
 has at least invented the hatchet, if not the saw and the plane. The 
 first idea which will suggest itself to him, in order to bring the posts 
 into line, — a necessary provision if he would unite them above by a 
 cross-beam, — will be to square them ; for, as the trunks of trees are 
 almost always twisted, they cannot otherwise be brought into a strict 
 line. This intelligent man (let us not lose sight of this point) has 
 observed that the trunks of trees, when raised horizontally by their 
 two extremities, bend in the middle with their own weight, and 
 especially so if they support a burden ; he lays then, between the 
 top of each post and the horizontal beam above, an intermediate 
 piece of wood, in order to diminish the space between the bearing 
 points. Tor this purpose he will scarcely employ a square slab of 
 
 wood, such as is indicated in Tig. 1 at A, that is to say, a piece 
 very difficult to procure on account of its width being much greater 
 than the diameter of the posts, and above all very difficult to cut and 
 dress without the aid of tools which he does not possess. Certainly 
 such a piece of wood for the capital of his post would ease but 
 slightly the bearing of the horizonal beam. He would not give 
 himself so much trouble to obtain a result so insignificant; but he 
 would cut a piece of wood of a certain length, and in width equal 
 to the thickness of the post, and placing it between the to]) of 
 the post and the horizontal beam, parallel with the latter, would 
 
 Fig. 1. 
 
30 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 obtain an actual support to ease the bearing of the beam by means 
 of the two prominent projections, B as indicated in Fig. 2. This 
 
 Fig. 2. 
 
 is real wooden construction, such as we see imitated in stone 
 in the monuments of India and even in those recently discovered 
 at Nineveh. 
 
 But the square, wooden post has four incommodious corners, which 
 the primitive constructor proceeds to hew down, and thus forms an 
 octagonal prism. The last form adopted for the posts is cylindrical, 
 as, to produce this form, requires a higher degree of skill in car- 
 pentry than merely to reduce them to the square section. Indeed, 
 if we would reach rational conclusions regarding the formation 
 of primitive systems of construction, it is far better to consult 
 the skilled workman who can supply us with reasons based upon 
 
 Fig. 3. 
 
 practical experience, than to depend upon mere theories, however 
 ingeniously applied. 
 
DERIVATION OE CERTAIN ORIENTAL FORMS. 
 
 31 
 
 Tlie primitive architecture of the people of the far East (that com- 
 mon source of all arts), in its general characteristics as in its details, 
 furnishes us, more than any other, with constructions in stone imitated 
 from those in wood, the Indian architects carrying this point so far 
 as, in the ceilings of their rock-cut temples, to copy joists and planks. 
 Many Chinese houses, for example, have wooden porticos whose lin- 
 tels are supported by posts assisted by brackets made of curved 
 pieces of wood as indicated in Eig. 3 ; while in the crypts of 
 Ganessa, at Cuttack, in India, the supporting pillars of stone have 
 a similar form as represented in Eig. 4.* Other pillars, in one of 
 the temples of Ajunta, are constructed as in Eig. 5. In these two 
 
 Fig. 4. 
 
 examples the bracketed capitals supporting the rock-cut beams arc 
 evidently reminiscences of wood and wooden constructions. The 
 pillar with the square base in Example 5, which passes to the 
 octagonal form and then to the sixteen-sided polygon, and finally 
 returns to the octagonal and the square at the summit, suggests 
 
 * See “The Illustrated Handbook of Architecture,” being a concise and popular account of 
 the different styles of architecture prevailing in all ages and countries. By J. Fergusson. 
 London. 1855. Vol. I. 
 
32 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 wooden construction much more readily than stone. Any one 
 will appreciate this who has endeavored so to manage a wooden 
 support as to obtain the greatest strength, firmness, and extent 
 of bearing which the material will allow. 
 
 Fig. 5. 
 
 * ' ’.AA • 
 
 w e are familiar with all the capitals of the ruins of Persepolis ; 
 among them are many having the form indicated in Pig. G. Now, 
 even to this day, the peasants’ huts in Assyria and Persia have roofs 
 supported by forked posts, as represented in Pig. 7 ; this fact doubt- 
 
DERIVATION OF ORIENTAL FORMS. 
 
 33 
 
 Figs. 6 and 7. 
 
 less gives us the origin of the stone Persepolitan capitals. This forked 
 form lias a double advantage ; it not only supports the lintel or girth 
 
 Fig. 8. 
 
 along the face of the building, but it allows the insertion, between 
 
 the forks and under the girth, of a horizontal beam perpendicular to 
 3 
 
34 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 the latter, to support the joists of the, floor, which is thus included 
 in the thickness of the lintel or girth on the face of the building. 
 Fig. 8 explains this primitive carpentry, in which the advantage is 
 gained of avoiding the mortises and tenons used to effect similar 
 results when tools and all the means of construction had been per- 
 fected. 
 
 Such are the wooden structures which were imitated in stone 
 by the nations of Asia. What remains to us of their monuments, 
 whether built or excavated in the rock, demonstrates this fact in 
 the most striking manner. If still more remarkable examples of 
 this fact are needed, observe, in the engravings of M. Texier, the 
 rock-cut tombs of Asia Minor, — those crypts whose bays might 
 almost be mistaken for constructions in wood. The primitive 
 structures of Central America * present the same peculiarities. 
 Imitations of primitive wooden construction, even in the most 
 minute details, appear in the earliest Eastern structures. Thus we 
 frequently see on the summit of pillars successive rolls, or volutes, — 
 
 Fig. 9. 
 
 a decoration represented in Fig. 9, evidently suggested by the 
 shavings left by the carpenter when bringing his wooden posts to 
 a square. The ornaments of the structures include chaplets of 
 beads and a quantity of that kind of engraving so easy to execute 
 in wood, and of which all primitive peoples are so prodigal. If 
 from details we pass to the examination of general designs, we 
 discover in India certain stone edifices, which singularly recall the 
 wooden pyramid described by Vitruvius, that is, an assemblage of 
 tree-trunks or bamboos laid horizontally upon each other in retreat 
 from the base to the summit of the roof; f we find others which dis- 
 
 * Among others those of Chunjuju and Zayi. 
 t The temple of Barolli, the pagoda of Kanaruc, etc. 
 
THE LYCIAN SARCOPHAGUS. 
 
 35 
 
 tinctly recall the form of immense baskets of bamboo wicker-work, 
 adorned with garlands of pearls, little figures, bands, and rings. 
 
 Houses are still built in India with vertical walls of bamboo 
 wicker-work, plastered with clay, and roofed in with wicker-work, 
 covered with leaves, reeds, or osiers (Fig. 10). In the same country 
 some very ancient buildings in stone reproduce this form. 
 
 Fig. 10. 
 
 To conclude this general review of wooden constructions, let us 
 examine the Lycian sarcophagus, at the British Museum, a work 
 which durably reproduces monuments which were built of wood in 
 that country at a very remote epoch. It is cut in three blocks of 
 stone in the form of an enormous wooden chest, with all its details 
 of framing, including posts, cross-pieces, rafters, and panels, like 
 a great wooden cover over a sarcophagus of marble. If, as its 
 sculpture leads us to suppose, this tomb is not a work of a very re- 
 mote period, it seems to afford us additional proof that when the 
 people of Asia Minor and Greece undertook to imitate wooden con- 
 struction in stone they followed that construction very frankly. The 
 modifiions or mutules with which it is adorned, unlike those of the 
 Greek temple, appear only on the sides, and its posts are square in 
 section and not cylindrical. It has a curvilinear gable roof resting 
 upon purlins, in all respects according to the primitive conditions of 
 wooden structures. The ridge is in the form of two planks carved 
 on the exposed faces. The joists of the intermediate floor are 
 represented as notched upon the longitudinal cross-beam, as if to 
 prevent the spreading of the frame, and the extremities of the joists 
 of the upper floor are secured between two plates or binding-pieces. 
 The feet of the four posts are fastened to the two barrow-shafts of 
 the sarcophagus by means of keys perfectly indicated. This monu- 
 ment, therefore, not only reveals the curious fact that originally, 
 
30 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 among the people of Asia Minor, the body was placed in a stone or 
 marble sarcophagus, covered by a Avooden chest, but, in a wider 
 sense, it proves, for the reasons indicated, that the Greek temple is a 
 stone construction, and not an imitation of wooden construction. 
 
 It is worthy of remark, meanwhile, that, if the immense continent 
 from China to the Caspian, from the Black Sea to the Persian Gulf, 
 has at all times — thanks to its high mountains, to the extraordinary 
 fertility of its valleys watered by great rivers, to its swamps and its 
 climate — supplied wood of all kinds in abundance, the same cannot 
 be said of Greece. I admit that its soil, now quite stripped, may 
 have nourished some forests ; but what were these, compared with 
 the luxurious growths of India ? Greece never possessed the gigan- 
 tic bamboos and reeds of that country, which are so well adapted to 
 building, and if forests fit for such purposes ever did exist there, 
 they must have soon disappeared. Let us, then, examine the real 
 construction of the Greek temple. 
 
 In the first place, what are the conditions to be fulfilled? It is 
 required to build a cell a, or enclosed room, surrounded with porti- 
 cos to protect and shade it. Nothing is more simple : four walls, 
 pierced on the two ends with doors ; around, a series of supports 
 bearing lintels, themselves protected by a projecting cornice ; and, 
 above the whole, a roof sloping over the two longitudinal sides to 
 shed the rain. These conditions are dictated by reason alone. 
 How are they met ? 
 
 The architect seeks a quarry near by. He experiences no difficul- 
 ty in this respect, as Greece and Sicily are well supplied with lime- 
 stone, and as Greek cities are generally built on the level summits, 
 or on the sides of hills, with an acropolis in the midst, that is, a rock 
 with natural or artificial steeps, and in the neighborhood of promon- 
 tories and mountains, all furnishing abundant material. The quarry 
 found, the architect, in the absence of those powerful appliances of 
 machinery with which modern science has rendered us familiar, has 
 only the main strength of slaves to move his material ; he therefore 
 endeavors, as far as possible, to avoid the necessity of transporting 
 heavy blocks. But his traditions, the antecedent arts of Egypt and 
 the East, with which he is familiar, exact the employment of mate- 
 rials of considerable dimensions, the vertical support and the lintel 
 being the only system of construction used. His first task, then, is 
 to adapt these requirements to the means of execution at his dis- 
 
CONSTRUCTION OF A GREEK TEMPLE. 
 
 ot 
 
 posai. This difficulty, instead of dismaying him, stimulates his 
 artistic genius. It is a difficulty solved by art. He considers with 
 reason that the cella of his temple, as it is only a wall with two faces, 
 
 one within and one without, may be built with materials of small 
 
 dimensions. To construct a wall of ordinary thickness with mate- 
 rials not occupying the whole of this thickness, but with rectilinear 
 
 blocks finished only on one face and laid back to back like thick 
 
 flagstones, is bad construction, but, under the circumstances, good 
 logic ; and, as the Greek is an excellent logician, he has his recti- 
 linear blocks fashioned at the quarry with only one face finished. 
 With these he constructs his cella. But he perceives that double 
 walls built thus with separate stones for each face need tying to- 
 gether ; to effect this purpose he occasionally lays bond - stones 
 through the whole thickness of the wall, and finished on their two 
 ends. 
 
 He now requires columns as vertical points of support in his peri- 
 style or porticos ; he sees that, to obtain a condition of perfect 
 stability, these isolated piers must be composed of blocks as large as 
 possible. The quarries and the means of transport at hand rarely 
 enable him to erect monolithic posts. So, on the side of some cliff' 
 in his quarry where the limestone bed begins, he selects the thickest 
 layers of stone, on the upper surface of which he traces a circle of 
 the diameter which he thinks proper for each column ; thence down 
 the upright face of these layers or strata he cuts away enough stone 
 on each side to enable the quarrymen to work at the shaft ; thus he 
 disengages a short cylinder or drum from the living rock. When 
 the lower bed of the stratum is reached, completely separating the 
 cylinder, which he has thus excavated, from the face of the cliff, he 
 lays it on its side and rolls it to the base of the slope. Here he 
 cuts a square hole in the centre of each of its circular ends, and fits 
 into them two pivots ; then, by means of a cradle and ropes, he rolls 
 it to the site of the temple. Thus the cylindrical form which he 
 adopts for his largest stones is a practical necessity to facilitate 
 transportation. These are not mere hypotheses, as, even to this day, 
 the quarries near Selinus, in Sicily, called cava di casa (building 
 quarries), exhibit these successive operations. Here enormous cyl- 
 inders, not less than eleven feet five and a half inches in diameter, 
 and from six to nine feet long, are still engaged in the limestone bed, 
 others have rolled by their own weight to the base of the declivity, 
 
38 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 and others are actually en route for the site of the proposed temple, 
 with the square holes cut in their ends. These blocks were left 
 in this condition on the cruel destruction of that flourishing Greek 
 colony by the Carthaginian invasion. No ruin causes a deeper emo- 
 tion than these traces of human labor, fresh as if left but yesterday 
 by the workmen. 
 
 But the columns of the temple are not the only blocks of large 
 bulk required. The lintels, which are to stretch between the sum- 
 mits of the columns, must necessarily be of considerable size, if the 
 temple is to be large. The Greek architect, in procuring these 
 blocks, proceeds in the same manner as when building the walls of 
 the cella ; he makes each lintel of two long stones placed back to 
 back with a joint between, having one finished face on the outside 
 and one on the inside of the portico. Experience soon discloses to 
 him that this arrangement has other advantages besides the facility 
 of transportation thus obtained ; for all calcareous stones, includ- 
 ing marble, are liable to flaws or natural lines of breakage, in- 
 visible at the time of quarrying, but which, under a superimposed 
 burden, at length betray themselves and occasion irremediable frac- 
 tures in the lintel. But two lintel stones laid back to back have 
 two chances to one in favor of resistance against any such casualty, 
 for if one of the stones is defective, the other, its twin, maintains the 
 weight above and thus prevents any immediate fall. The Greek 
 architect invariably employed this expedient when he used limestones, 
 like those of Sicily, whose power of resistance is not very consider- 
 able. 
 
 The architect now proceeds most ingeniously to elevate and set in 
 place all the materials thus brought to the site. As regards the 
 cylindrical drums of his columns, he avails himself of the square hole 
 cut in one of their circular ends, and dovetailing it with tenons, ap- 
 plies the slings or iron pincers, and thus elevates it perpendicularly 
 to its place ou the pile ; for these blocks, being laid with dry joints, 
 without wedges or mortar, must reach their destined position, sus- 
 pended, and, once laid, cannot be disarranged. All the means of 
 suspension must then be so contrived as to leave free the beds of the 
 joints. The capitals are easily raised in a vertical position by means 
 of their projecting corners. But the long and thin lintel stones, 
 which are laid end for end, and therefore have two sides concealed 
 in the joints, and exhibit one or two vertical faces besides the under 
 
CONSTRUCTION OP A GREEK TEMPLE. 
 
 39 
 
 side or soffit, visible when looking up between the columns, must 
 be attached and hoisted by the two ends ; the architect prepares 
 for the suspension of these blocks by cutting in each of the two ver- 
 tical end-faces of each block a channel formed like a U, and deep 
 enough to admit a cable easily, as indicated in Fig. 11. When 
 
 Fig. 11. 
 
 the stone is mounted and laid in place, the cable is drawn out from 
 the grooves. The art of laying stones with dry joints was practised 
 among the Greeks with rare perfection. In this case, the blocks 
 cannot be brought up to stages of scaffolding placed at different, 
 heights and finally laid in their beds by means of crow-bars and 
 Avedges, according to the modern fashion ; but must arrive exactly 
 over their several destinations, there to be deposited gently and with 
 precision. If deposited athwart their bed, the appliances for lifting 
 would not be found strong enough to remove them bv reason of the 
 close adherence of their perfectly smooth and closely fitting surfaces. 
 The necessary precision of position, therefore, can only be obtained 
 
40 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 by the use of great sheers brought and stayed successively above 
 each column, and then above each intercolunmiation, to hoist the 
 lintels, or architraves, the trigylphs, metopes, cornices, etc. In this 
 connection, we should not forget that the Greeks were a nation of 
 sailors, and therefore their constructive appliances must have been 
 made with skill, simplicity, and perfection. 
 
 The means thus briefly explained, let us now examine the work 
 itself; let us see the Greek temple actually in course of construction. 
 The wall of the cella built and the column smoothed, the architect 
 observes that the horizontal blocks, the lintels which extend from one 
 column to another, may, on account of their length, be subject to 
 fracture under the superincumbent weight ; he therefore places on the 
 summit of each column projecting blocks or capitals. 
 
 The abacus, or crowning block, of the Doric capital is square in 
 plan ; its two side faces, by reason of their projection, increase the 
 surface of support under the lintel or architrave, but its projecting 
 exterior and interior faces carry no weight. If the Doric capital 
 were, as is maintained, an imitation of a wooden capital, these last 
 two projections of the abacus jutting out beyond the outer and inner 
 faces of the architrave would be unreasonable, as I have already 
 demonstrated. But in stone these projections are perfectly justifiable ; 
 for, if the columns are built with successive courses of tambours or 
 drums, the architraves or lintels, which must be long enough to 
 extend between the columns from centre to centre, and deep enough 
 to bear a superincumbent weight, become the largest blocks used in 
 the Doric order. Now, we have shown that these blocks are raised 
 by their two extremities to be covered in the close joints. To de- 
 posit such heavy stones exactly on their two beds, that is to say, on 
 the abaci of the capitals, without making the columns deviate from 
 the vertical, required delicate, precise, and safe handling. The exte- 
 rior and interior projections of the abaci greatly facilitated this opera- 
 tion, as they enabled temporary beams of wood to be laid across 
 from column to column inside and outside of the bed of the proposed 
 architrave, thus not only steadying and keeping the columns in line, 
 but giving foothold for the masons, while gently and exactly guiding 
 the architrave stones to their beds on the summits of the capitals and 
 between the beams, without the necessity of more scaffolding. It 
 must be observed here that all primitive constructors were sparing in 
 the use of scaffolding ; they did not like (and the Greeks less than 
 
CONSTRUCTION OP A GREEK TEMPLE. 
 
 41 
 
 all others) to erect temporary and apparently useless works, that is to 
 say, such as were not to leave permanent traces in the structure where 
 they were employed. Some Greek temples, like those at Segeste, 
 are unfinished, and still remain as the workmen left them ; in these 
 we see that the materials composing the monument, far different 
 from our own customs in this respect, were raised to their places by 
 the simplest mechanism of suspension and deposit, and that the con- 
 structors sought, as far as possible, to avail themselves of the struc- 
 ture itself for a scaffold, making use of the various projections to lay 
 temporary longitudinal and transverse beams where necessary. 
 
 Above the architraves we find only small stones used. This was 
 evidently one of their many concessions made to avoid needless ex- 
 pense and difficulties of execution. The frieze, laid upon the archi- 
 trave, is but a succession of little blocks ( triglyphs ), between which 
 slabs {metopes) are placed edgewise, with a backing sometimes con- 
 structed in several courses of brick. The cornice has but slight 
 projection, and does not bear on the whole thickness of the frieze, 
 extending back only far enough to maintain an equilibrium. (See 
 Plate II.) 
 
 The constructor remedies by his intelligence whatever difficulties 
 may arise from his spare use of material ; he observes, for instance, 
 that the drops of rain, according to a physical law, follow the under 
 horizontal surface of the projection of his cornice ; he therefore, in 
 order to avoid, as far as possible, the defacing effect of the wash of 
 rain-water, inclines this surface upward, so that the water, when it 
 has run down the perpendicular face, may fall on reaching the lower 
 edge. 
 
 These are improvements resulting simply from the application of 
 reason to the work in hand. But this is not sufficient : art now in- 
 tervenes. This monument is built under a pure sky, through which 
 the sun shines brightly ten months out of the year. The artist ob- 
 serves soon that the cylindrical columns of his temple, by an optical 
 illusion, appear larger at their summits than at their bases ; this 
 offends his reason as well as his eyes ; so of his cylinders he makes 
 truncated cones. This diminution of the shafts ( entasis ) had, per- 
 haps, already been required by considerations of stability. Again, lie 
 notices that the intermediate blocks {abaci) between his shafts and 
 the architrave seem to crush the columns by their weight ; so, leav- 
 ing these blocks square in plan where it is necessary to satisfy the 
 
4.2 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 requirements of solidity and strength (that is, under the architrave), 
 he cuts them beneath in such a manner as to make the circular sec- 
 tion of his shafts meet this square with a salient curve (the echinus). 
 But the artist is not yet satisfied. His columns appear flat Avhere 
 the light strikes them, and tame and indecisive where they are in 
 shade. To obviate this, he cuts his shafts longitudinally through 
 their whole height in a series of flat faces ; then he hollows out these 
 faces so as to form channels {fillings) deep enough to catch the 
 oblique light on their edges, but not so deep as to incommode those 
 who pass along the colonnade. The sunlight, repeating thus on each 
 one of these columns a series of vertical lines of light and shade, dif- 
 fering in width and intensity, defines that which would have been 
 lost while the columns remained merely smooth diminishing cylin- 
 ders. He feels that, in order to make the eye comprehend the full 
 value of a form, the principal lines of that form must be repeated, in 
 the same manner as the sentiment of a musician leads him to define a 
 principal phrase by returning to it often in the course of his melody ; 
 so the vertical line of the column is emphasized by repetition on its 
 surface. But the artist is conscious that he must not fatigue the eye 
 by any exaggerated persistence in this method of defining ; he cuts 
 upon his shafts only channels enough to produce the desired effect. 
 The necessity of employing materials of large size stops, as I have 
 already explained, when his columns, with their capitals, and his 
 architrave are in place ; upon his architrave he only needs to lay small 
 squares of stone. At first, in the axis of his columns, or above each 
 joint of his architrave, which is crowned with a fillet, and over the 
 centre of each intercolumniation, he places isolated blocks, that the 
 superincumbent mass may bear as little as possible upon his archi- 
 trave. But he is a Greek : he desires that his judicious combination 
 shall clearly explain itself ; so, on the exterior face of each one of 
 the squares of stone, placed thus between the architrave and the cor- 
 nice, forming as it were little isolated pillars, he carves a triglyph, 
 that is, lie cuts upon this visible face vertical channels, which, ac- 
 cording to the same feeling, the same just reasoning, which led him 
 to make use of a similar expedient to illustrate the function of verti- 
 cal support in his columns, denote a member which bears weight. 
 The triglyph is thus a vertical support, and he distinctly indicates 
 this fact. 
 
 The Greek architect exhibits all the qualities of a reasoner ; he 
 
CONSTRUCTION OE A GREEK TEMPLE. 
 
 43 
 
 concerns himself to demonstrate to all eyes that the various parts of 
 his monument have each a useful necessary function ; he shrinks 
 from the accusation of having sacrificed to caprice ; it is not sufficient 
 that his monument is solid, he tries to make it appear so. But if 
 he never conceals the contrivances which he employs, his artistic in- 
 stinct urges him to clothe every member with a form admirably 
 chosen for the place it is to occupy ; with regard to the effect it is to 
 produce, his good taste saves him from that pedantic persistency 
 which fatigues the public, and, by abuse or excess of reasoning, 
 makes reason hateful. 
 
 The spaces {metopes) left between the triglyphs in the frieze were 
 usually filled each with a square slab on edge, as we have already 
 said, sculptured with bas-reliefs ; but it appears that originally these 
 spaces often remained open. In the tragedy of “ Iphigenia in Tauris,” 
 Orestes and Pylades propose to enter the temple of Diana and take 
 away the statue of the goddess. Pylades suggests that they effect an 
 entrance by passing through the openings left between the triglyphs. 
 “ Behold,” said he to Orestes, “ where, in the space of the triglyphs, 
 there is a void through which the body can pass.” The Greek text, 
 does not say between the triglyplis ; but Pylades was not an archi- 
 tect, and, in general language, would say, in the triglyphs or in the 
 space of the triglyphs, just as people now might say in the balusters 
 when they mean between the balusters of a balustrade. This passage 
 from Euripides has for us a double interest : Pylades could not have 
 referred here to the spaces left between the triglyphs above the col- 
 umns, as the two heroes would by this means have only introduced 
 themselves into the open portico to which of course access might 
 readily have been obtained as usual between the columns ; but the 
 text, seems to refer to triglyphs placed on the wall of the cella, where, 
 indeed, it is not uncommon to find that feature. If we may suppose 
 that the spaces left, open between these triglyphs were intended to 
 admit air and light into the interior of the temple, it, would be rea- 
 sonable to infer that the cella was completely covered. 
 
 The Doric order, therefore, as indicated in Plate II., is not, it, 
 seems to me, a distant tradition of a construction in wood, as gener- 
 ally supposed, but plainly a construction in stone. The columns, by 
 their cylindro-conical form, the capitals, with their square abaci, the 
 whole entablature, with its triglyphs, its inerusted metopes, its cor- 
 nice with inclined eaves, the way in which all the members are super- 
 
44 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 imposed, indicate plainly everywhere stone, quarried, cut, hoisted, 
 apparent by reason of its nature and function wherever placed. 
 Wood, indeed, has its part to play in the Greek temple, but a 
 part completely secondary and distinct from the construction in 
 stone. 
 
 In fact, every detail connected with the Greek temple is a direct 
 proof against this popular theory. The Greeks were too sensible 
 ever to have laid upon an architrave or cross-beam of wood joists 
 of such size as are indicated by the triglyphs (according to the sup- 
 position that those members represent the ends of the joists), merely 
 to extend across a portico of from seven to ten feet in width. More- 
 over, the joists of the wooden ceiling of the portico, or, if of stone, 
 its lintels and slabs, were not laid upon the architrave, but upon the 
 frieze and above the triglyphs, as is still indicated by the space and 
 projections reserved for this purpose in all temples. This space in- 
 timates that the rafters so used were only of the size proper for the 
 duties they had to perform, that is, from six to ten inches square, 
 or, if stone was used as a ceiling for the portico, that a rest was left 
 only large enough to sustain the horizontal slabs. But as triglyphs 
 have been regarded as representing the ends of the ceiling joists, 
 so the sloping eaves ( soffits ) of the cornice have been thought to indi- 
 cate the ends of the rafters. Admitting that this theory is probable 
 as regards the two lateral sides of the temple, how can it hold good 
 for the two ends under the gables (pediments), where no ends of 
 rafters can project, but where the cornice is continued in the same 
 manner? Greek artists were men of too good judgment to com- 
 mit so gross a solecism. If the theory were correct, the sloping 
 eaves would have been omitted under the pediments, and, as we 
 have seen, when the Greeks really did imitate wooden construction, 
 they reproduced everything frankly and minutely; the ends of the 
 purlins, or longitudinal beams supporting the rafters at right angles 
 to them, would have been represented here under the projection of 
 the cornice. We have seen that in the Lycian tomb (Plate L), an 
 imitation of wood in stone, these conditions are strictly followed 
 out ; the ends of the purlins appear on the gable ends, but those 
 of the rafters are properly confined to the sides. 
 
 The Greek temples really are monuments in stone, in which the 
 principle of the lintel has been intelligently and elegantly developed. 
 Why not accept them for what they are, instead of supposing that 
 
CONSTRUCTION OF THE GREEK TEMPLE. 
 
 43 
 
 the Greeks, who invented logic, and were endowed with the most 
 delicate sentiment, would amuse themselves with such an absurdity 
 as imitating in stone a construction in wood ? Such things might 
 be done among the Assyrians and the people of Asia Minor, but 
 it is quite to misunderstand the genius of the Western Greeks to 
 attribute any such follies to them. 
 
 It is by such interpretations of the origins of antique and medi- 
 æval architectures, — interpretations more ingenious than rational, — 
 that a false direction has been given to the study of art, and con- 
 sequently to the spirit of artists. It is useful, we think, to explain 
 monuments by what they are, and not by what we wish them to be. 
 The Greek temple is copied from the wooden hut, just as the medi- 
 aeval cathedral is copied from the forests of Gaul or Germany. Both 
 theories are romances fit to amuse dreamers, but dangerous, or at 
 least useless, when they are taught to men destined to become archi- 
 tects. 
 
 But let us return to the construction of the Greek temple. The 
 Greek architect admits symmetry, for it is an instinct of the human 
 mind ; but he does not, allow this instinct to triumph over his reason. 
 In building his temple, he has begun by making the cella, the pre- 
 cinct reserved for the divinity, an independent construction, a com- 
 paratively small stone enclosure, around which he has planted the 
 columns of his portico ( peristyle ), admitting between the enclosure 
 and the columns a passage extensive when compared with the dimen- 
 sions of the cella. He does not trouble himself to place the sec- 
 ond columns of his portico, or peristyle, exactly opposite the pilasters 
 (antce) which form the corners of the cella, for he perceives that in 
 perspective this correspondence would have no value. His only pre- 
 occupation is to rest the wooden ceiling of his portico on the walls 
 of the cella and the interior frieze of the peristyle. But with regard 
 to the angles of his peristyle, his reason leads him to disembarrass 
 himself still more frankly from what we call the laws of symmetry. 
 He sees that the isolated columns of the corners must necessarily 
 carry a heavier weight than the others, and he distrusts the strength 
 of the architrave stones which rest upon it ; lie foresees that, if one 
 of these stones should break, the column on the angle would be 
 forced outward by the fall. For this reason, and notwithstanding the 
 laws of symmetry, he deems it prudent to augment the diameter of 
 this column and to lessen the distance between that and the next 
 
46 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 columns on either side. This difference of intercohunniation per- 
 mits him to place a triglyph on the angle of the frieze without sensi- 
 bly increasing the intervals between the three last triglyphs on each 
 face, thus satisfying another requirement of reason in giving a point 
 of support to the cornice on the corner where such support is most 
 needed. 
 
 These difficulties of composition resolved, the architect proceeds 
 to the study of details. He has remarked that, when it rains, the 
 water, uniting with the deposit of dust on the vertical face of his 
 exterior cornice, leaves there, as it runs down, unsightly stains, ob- 
 scuring the purity of that part of the extreme projection of his struc- 
 ture which he desires to be brilliantly defined against the blue sky. 
 He therefore lays upon this cornice-stone a gutter of marble or terra- 
 cotta, and at intervals along its length he furnishes it with spouts 
 to project the accumulated water from the face of the cornice ; but 
 the gutter itself, exposed to the rain on its face, is easily soiled, and 
 to conceal this defect, he covers it with sculpture or painting. 
 
 The more closely the man of artistic instincts observes, the wider 
 the field of observation opens before him. But the observation of 
 the philosopher and that of the artist differ in their results. The 
 philosopher observes to compare, to deduce consequences, to kncnv, 
 in a word. The artist observes, but does not stop at the results ; 
 from these he proceeds to labor with or against physical laws, to 
 augment, modify, or destroy the effects produced by them. The 
 artist observes that a cylinder in strong light receives but one 
 mass of light and one’ mass of shade ; he modifies this effect of a 
 physical law by means of perpendicular channels, to recall the light 
 in the shade, and thus force the light to model his column. He 
 observes that the large square abacus of his capital, during the 
 greater part of the day, produces a broad shadow over the top of 
 his shaft, and that this shadow, rendered very transparent by the 
 direct reflection of the light from the ground below, is so luminous 
 that the junction of the capital with the shaft is lost ; he sees that 
 this effect is feeble and indecisive, and that it detracts from that 
 apparent architectural solidity which should be carefully preserved 
 at the point where the vertical lines of light and shade produced by 
 the flutings cease. He therefore at this point of junction between 
 the capital and shaft cuts a series of deep horizontal lines ; and, 
 still to increase the vigorous effect of these lines of sharp shadow, 
 
LIGHT AND SHADOW IN GEEEK DESIGN. 
 
 47 
 
 he colors them with a sombre tone, and thus destroys an effect of 
 shadow which offends his artistic feeling. lie has observed that 
 the reflected lights in shadows are themselves luminous. He has 
 remarked that the shadow under the abacus, whose faces sharply 
 intercept the light, is so positive, the transition thus made so violent, 
 that the summit of the shaft is apparently lost, and the architrave 
 has the effect of resting, not on a solid form, but, as it were, on a 
 void. Now, his intelligence as a constructor demands that the cap- 
 ital must have a decided projection ; he therefore cannot diminish 
 this projection in order to lessen the objectionable effect of shadow. 
 How is the difficulty to be solved ? He discovers that mould- 
 ing, so profoundly reasoned and so delicately rendered, the echinus, 
 which encircles the summit of the shaft and bears the abacus. At 
 its point of junction with the abacus he gives this moulding a sud- 
 den turn inward {quirk), so that at the point where it becomes tan- 
 gent to the face of the abacus it catches a brilliant spot of light, 
 which, repeating the light .on the abacus, is lost in a graduated 
 demi-tint towards the neck of the column. He thus blends the too 
 brilliant light of the abacus with its too positive shadow ; then, not 
 content with this first result, he inclines the curve of this moulding 
 downward towards the neck of the shaft, making it nearly a sec- 
 tion of an inverted cone, so that its surface may receive from the 
 illuminated ground below or from the neighboring walls as much 
 reflected light as possible. Thus, with incomparable skill, availing 
 himself of the natural effects of light, shadow, and reflection, deli- 
 cately studied, he satisfies the desire of his eye, and obtains that 
 expression of solidity which his reason demands as essential to 
 that part of his composition. 
 
 The Greek Doric orders are in the hands of all those who occupy 
 themselves with architecture, and each one can readily verity for him- 
 self the exactness of the observation of the Greek architect. For 
 him the sun is evidently the generating principle of exterior forms. 
 He perceives, for instance, that, at a certain distance, the columns of 
 his temple, though tinted, when they receive light perpendicularly to 
 the wall of the cella, are not apparently detached from that wall, but 
 that their lights are confounded with that which falls on the cella, and 
 their shadows, thrown upon its wall behind, appear completely to 
 disarrange the distribution of columniations and intercolumniations, 
 solids and voids, in his peristyle. To obviate this difficulty, the 
 
48 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 architect calls the painter to his aid and instructs him to lay upon 
 this wall behind the peristyle a vigorous tone, a brown or a red, 
 which shall absorb the light ; and lest this expedient may contradict 
 the constructive expression of the building, he takes care to trace 
 upon the wall, from distance to distance, clear, line, horizontal lines, 
 recalling to the eye the horizontal courses of stone, and, seen between 
 the columns, which are distinguished by vertical lines, clearly sepa- 
 rating the constrdction of the wall in the rear from the supporting 
 members in front of it. This application of color to the exterior 
 of monuments is so necessary in a country like Greece, where the air 
 has a marvellous transparency, that to-day, for example, he who from 
 a certain distance looks at the temple of Theseus at Athens, now 
 deprived of its colors, when in full sunlight, finds it impossible to 
 distinguish the lights on the columns from those on the wall of the 
 cella behind them, these lights, though on different planes, being 
 confounded and appearing to be projected on the same surface. 
 
 Thus, if we take one by one all the details of a Greek temple and 
 study them separately and in their direct relations with the whole, 
 we shall always discover the influence of that judicious and refined 
 study which is the beginning of true art, of that exquisite sentiment 
 which submits all forms to reason, not to the dry and pedantic reason 
 of the geometer, but to reason directed by sense and by the observa- 
 tion of natural laws. 
 
 This rapid glance at the modus operandi of Greek artists is suffi- 
 cient to show that if the Parthenon is in its place at Athens it is but 
 ridiculous when imitated at Edinburgh, where the sun is obscured 
 by mists during the greater part of the year ; it proves, moreover, 
 that if Heaven had endowed the inhabitants of Edinburgh with 
 feelings as refined and artistic susceptibilities as acute as those of the 
 Greeks, they would have adopted a very different method of con- 
 struction there from what was prevalent on the shores of the Archi- 
 pelago and the Mediterranean. Art does not consist in this or that 
 form, but in a principle, a logical method. We cannot maintain that 
 a certain form of art is art absolutely, and that everything outside of 
 this form, like the art of the Iroquois or of the mediaeval French, is 
 necessarily barbarous. The question is, not whether the Iroquois or 
 the French, in their respective forms of art, were like the Greek in 
 his form of art, but whether, in adopting their peculiar forms, they 
 proceeded in like manner according to rational principles ; whether 
 

 -M 
 
 I- 
 
 t !*, 
 
 THE PANTHEON. 
 
 PLAN ON TWO LEVELS. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
GREEK ART TO BE STUDIED, NOT IMITATED. 
 
 40 
 
 they approached the Greek spirit in making their architecture differ 
 from that of the Greeks in the same proportion as their climate, their 
 requirements, their habits, differed from those of Greece. But it 
 must not be inferred that the study of Greek art is useless, because no 
 one now can seriously recommend us to imitate it ; on the contrary, 
 it is indispensable to the architect, provided he does not limit him- 
 self to an acquaintance with forms merely, but deduces the principles 
 under which not only Greek art but all true expressions of art have 
 been developed. It is barbarous to reproduce a Greek temple at 
 Paris or London ; for such reproduction betrays ignorance of the 
 principles which inspired the original, and such ignorance is barba- 
 rism. Yet it is barbarous not to study Greek art with profound 
 attention and minute care, because this art developed its forms under 
 the immutable principles of truth more consistently than any other, 
 and because it understood and invariably followed those principles. 
 It is barbarous, moreover, not impartially to recognize consistent snb- 
 jection to such principles, wherever it may be found. 
 
 We have shown how the Greeks were accustomed to sacrifice sym- 
 metry when it interfered with an intelligent and reasonable disposi- 
 tion of architectural details. But tins fact may be observed, not 
 only in the details, but in the general compositions of the Greek 
 architect. The Erectheum of the Acropolis at Athens is a very 
 striking instance of this phenomenon. This structure, as every one 
 knows, is a group of three temples or rooms of unequal importance, 
 with three porticos on different levels ; two of these porticos are 
 Ionic, and one has its entablature supported by caryatides. Not 
 even in Gothic architecture, which is regarded as especially indepen- 
 dent of the laws of symmetry, can a single monument be found more 
 apparently capricious, or (to use a modern phrase) more picturesque 
 than this. Its irregularity arose from several causes. It was situated 
 on the northern extremity of the plateau of the Acropolis, and at a 
 point where the rock began to shelve off towards the north before 
 descending abruptly in a precipice. It was a sacred spot ; the monu- 
 ment was destined to cover the fountain which Neptune caused to 
 burst forth from the earth with a stroke of his trident, and the olive- 
 tree w r hich Minerva produced. The ground therefore could not be 
 disturbed. Though the architect of the Erectheum was thus obliged 
 to respect the natural levels of the rock, he gladly availed himself of 
 the irregularity of the site as presenting a new and original problem, 
 4 
 
50 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 to erect a monument of an agreeable aspect in disregard of the vulgar 
 rules of symmetry. It would seem even that he welcomed difficulties, 
 not to conceal the irregularities of his plan and elevations, but to tri- 
 umph over them with a bold stroke of genius, to express these irregu- 
 larities by a great variety in his design. This little Greek monument 
 is justly regarded as a masterpiece. But where is the architect of 
 the present day who would dare so completely to free himself from 
 the laws of symmetry, and, in doing so, could develop such exquisite 
 grace of detail and beauty of execution? At Athens this audacity 
 might be permitted, because the artist knew that he Avas in the midst 
 of a people artistic enough to comprehend the motives of such bold- 
 ness ; and if the Athenians “ spent their time in nothing else, but 
 either to tell or to hear some new firing,” the architect, Avho had in- 
 telligently followed the inspirations of his taste, Avas not wanting 
 either in the ability or the opportunity to defend his work trium- 
 phantly. 
 
 Let us therefore suppose the Erectheum finished and the rubbish 
 of the workmen removed ; from the croAvd of curious spectators, 
 argumentative, impressionable, apt at epigrams and sarcasm, like all 
 Athenians, a critic steps forth and says to the architect: “What 
 caprice is this ? Why these three monuments tmddled together as if 
 by chance? What is the meaning of this smaller portico Avhose entab- 
 lature cuts into the antœ of the cella ? Here are three façades, one 
 in front of the cella, another on a loAver level projecting from the 
 flank, and forming a re-entering angle, an L, against the other ex- 
 tremity of the main building, as if this second portico Avas too large 
 for the place it occupies ; and here is still a third, small and Ioav, its 
 cornice supported by caryatides, and built, not in the axis of the cella, 
 but on an angle Avitli it. What confusion ! IIoav can any one view- 
 ing this building under one of its aspects form any idea of the 
 others? Here, besides, on one side, Ave have a great door giving 
 access into a little room, on the other a small door on a higher level 
 opening into this same room. Are the treasures of the republic to 
 be squandered in Avorks like this, justified neither by good taste nor 
 by reason ? ” 
 
 To this discourse the Athenian architect may be supposed to reply: 
 “ He Avho talks so thoughtlessly, 0 Athenians, is probably a stranger, 
 since it is necessary to explain to him the principles of an art in the 
 practice of Avhich you surpass all other nations ! He has certainly 
 
APOLOGY FOR THE ERECTHEUM. 
 
 51 
 
 not taken the trouble to walk a few steps about this Acropolis or 
 in the city and to look about him, before coming here to pass judg- 
 ment on an edifice of whose sacred destination and locality he must 
 be ignorant. But for his sake, if not for yours, I will give the rea- 
 sons which have guided me in this work, so that he may know that 
 an Athenian architect, jealous of his own reputation and still more so 
 of the glory of his native city, does nothing until he has maturely 
 reflected on the requirements and various aspects of the monuments 
 whose construction is intrusted to his hands. You are aware that 
 I have been called upon to build three temples, or rather two temples 
 united, one consecrated to Neptune Erectheus, the other to Minerva, 
 and a small temple or shrine dedicated to Pandrosus. This is not 
 the place to speak of sacred things, but you know whether I would 
 have been justified in meddling with the sacred soil I was required 
 to protect ; now, although the fountain of Neptune is situated on a 
 higher level than the olive of Minerva, you behold here both sanctu- 
 aries under the same roof. Observe, moreover, 0 Athenians, in what 
 part of the Acropolis we stand ; see how we almost touch its northern 
 ramparts, and how at this point the ground falls away ! Only fifty 
 feet to the southward rises the great temple of Minerva. Facing the 
 east I have constructed, in front of the cella consecrated to Neptune 
 and on a level with it, a portico, both forming a harmonious whole. 
 But on the north side why should I have given to the portico of the 
 sanctuary of Minerva the importance belonging to that of Neptune? 
 The problem was to construct ou this favorable exposure an ample 
 shelter from the oppressive heat of the sun, but so to dispose it as not 
 to interfere with the space necessary for the defenders of the ramparts. 
 I have therefore assumed as the axis of this portico the door of 
 entrance to the sanctuary of Minerva; and in order to protect this 
 portico from the south-wind and to shelter it, I have, as you see, pro- 
 longed the wall of the cella. I am reproached for having lowered 
 this northern portico so that its cornice is not on a level with that of 
 the two sanctuaries ; but do you not see that thus I have subordinated 
 everything to the principal monument, the sacred place ? that if, in 
 my desire, for reasons already specified, to give great width and 
 depth to this portico, T had elevated its entablature to a level with 
 that of the cella, this mere accessory structure would have had on 
 undue predominance over the main edifice, and, for those of you who 
 live below in that part of the city towards the temple of Theseus, it 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 would have quite concealed these sanctuaries from your view by the 
 effect of perspective ? Do you not see that I have succeeded in pre- 
 serving a ilue proportion for this structure, and at the same time, by 
 keeping the ridge of its roof below the cornice of the cella, I have 
 obtained an effectual water-shed ? Now, passing to the south side, 
 where the level of the rock is higher, should I be justified in making 
 the Pandroseum here rival in importance the porticos of Neptune and 
 Minerva? Ought I not rather to indicate to strangers that this edi- 
 fice, uniting in itself three temples, has two main entrances, and to 
 give to this third and subordinate portico a less monumental appear- 
 ance? And, further, look at the immense columns of the great tem- 
 ple of Minerva in full view yonder, opposite to us ; what order would 
 not have appeared mean in the presence of the majestic peristyle of 
 the Parthenon ? In placing the cornice of this little portico on 
 caryatides, 1 have escaped all comparisons, and saved you, Athenians, 
 from the possible reproach of having repeated in little that which 
 has been done on a grand scale by our predecessors. Again, had I 
 adopted for this portico the Ionic order, what delicacy of execution 
 and refinement of detail could have rivalled the stately grandeur of 
 the order of the Parthenon ? It is a principle of our art which you 
 understand as well as I, that an appearance of meanness or parsi- 
 mony, especially in sacred things, should be carefully avoided. It 
 would not be well for the stranger, arriving at Athens and beholding 
 from afar, on the heights of the Acropolis, two temples near each 
 other, one enormous and imposing, the other small but of a character 
 of design so near like its neighbor as to challenge comparison, — it 
 would not be well for him to be thus justified in exclaiming, What 
 great god is this who has a temple here, and what little god has his 
 temple by its side ? Thus, you perceive, Athenians, that in endeavoring 
 to construct here sanctuaries worthy of these divinities, I have, by ex- 
 ceptional and perhaps strange dispositions, avoided such reproaches 
 regarding the respect we owe to the gods. Perhaps if I had sacrificed 
 less to the general aspect of the Acropolis, and built a temple di- 
 vided in the interior but recalling in the exterior certain well-known 
 consecrated forms, like that of the temple of Theseus, I should have 
 obtained the praises of him who now criticises my work ; but, I ask, 
 even if in such case I had endeavored to avoid the reproaches I have 
 referred to by adorning my diminutive copy of the Parthenon or 
 Theseion with an order richer and more elegant than either, would I 
 
SUBORDINATION OF SCULPTURE IN GREEK ARCHITECTURE. 53 
 
 have succeeded, would I have obtained a result as satisfactory as by 
 applying such an order to an irregular monument like this, thus 
 foiling its want of formal proportions by the abundance and delicacy 
 of its sculptures ? See how the sunlight plays among these pro- 
 jections, how the very lowness of the portico of the caryatides 
 renders it a certain slid ter from the heat all day long ! Do you 
 dream of making a comparison between this portico and that of the 
 Parthenon, when observing how the supporting figures of the one 
 seem at a short distance diminished to the natural size, and, turn- 
 ing towards the other, your admiring eyes are tilled with its stately 
 shadows ? ” 
 
 Thus perhaps the architect of the Erectheum would have spoken, 
 and assuredly the Athenians would have felt that he spoke with 
 wisdom. 
 
 One of the essential qualities of Greek art is clearness ; that is to 
 say, referring only to architecture, the pure, transparent expression 
 of purpose, and of the requirements and means of execution. This 
 quality of clearness or distinctness, the inseparable companion of 
 taste, is evident, not only throughout the general structure of Greek 
 buildings, always simple, intelligible, without equivocations or con- 
 cealments, but in the details, in the sculpture and the monumental 
 use of color which so harmonize with the architecture as to illustrate 
 and not dissemble its forms. Sculpture, in a Greek edifice, never 
 alters an architectural profile or outline; it is never attached but as 
 a light embroidery, whose slight projections cannot destroy the sweep 
 of the lines ; sometimes, to obtain this result, the decoration is 
 simply a system of engraving assisted by color. In that climate, the 
 transparency of the air and the brilliancy of the sunlight betray the 
 most delicate details at a great distance ; the more directly monu- 
 mental surfaces are exposed to this brilliant light, the less relief 
 is given to their sculpture. But if the reliefs in the metopes 
 and the statues in the tympana of the pediments have bold projec- 
 tions, it is because they are covered by the broad shadows of the 
 cornices above and thus are modelled to the eye mostly by reflected 
 lights. If the sun is low, these reliefs, receiving light almost hori- 
 zontally, project but slight shadows, and thus, in either case, the 
 architectural lines remain undisturbed. In all the Greek structures, 
 edited and drawn so frequently and thoroughly, we find that deco- 
 rative sculpture occupies but a very subordinate position in relation 
 
54 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 to their profiles. The Greeks loved form above all things. Every- 
 thing which tended to alter the harmony and unity of a composition 
 they rejected. In their statues they instinctively preferred the nude. 
 They only clothed their statues out of respect for religious proprie- 
 ties, and these proprieties they disregarded as soon as they could : 
 thus the earliest statues of Venus were necessarily clothed ; but 
 already in the time of Pericles their instinct had triumphed over 
 their religious dogmas. 
 
 The Greeks were an isolated people, a colony of artists ; as I have 
 already said, there were no barbarians among them. So long as 
 they were free from foreign influence, they were able to preserve the 
 language of the arts pure from all alloy, unembarrassed by any con- 
 cession ; in uttering this language they were sure of appreciation and 
 sympathy. We, on the other hand, to be understood, must yield to 
 concessions without end. As regards art, there is with us no com- 
 petent authority, because there are no convictions. We have schools, 
 indeed, or rather coteries, disputing continually about principles 
 which they do not practise, because no one is willing to admit them 
 strictly. Some contend that the study of the arts of antiquity, clas- 
 sic art, should alone be honored by us ; but if they build, they set 
 the principles of these arts aside : others, less exclusive, perhaps, but 
 also less reasonable, demand that the arts of the Middle Ages and of 
 the Renaissance shall be taught ; but if they build, while they are 
 lavish of the elementary rules of such arts, they content themselves 
 with reproducing an appearance, a similitude, up to a certain point 
 where popular prejudice, fashion , exacts something else. In the 
 midst of this strange confusion and these continual disputes, if we 
 wish our studies to lead to a practical and profitable result, they 
 should be pursued with discernment. This is peculiarly an age of 
 inquiry, but the most philosophical researches, the most assiduous 
 labors, will conduct us to the most bitter deceptions and most fruit- 
 less results, if we do not bring to these researches and labors a 
 spirit of intelligent criticism, if we cannot shake oft' these poor bor- 
 rowed rags which for the two past centuries we have regarded as the 
 only proper garments. The study of Greek antiquity is, and ever 
 will be, for youth, the surest initiation to the arts, the most substan- 
 tial base for the cultivation of taste and consequently of common- 
 sense, for these two cannot be separated. It teaches us to distin- 
 guish reason from sophistry ; it enlarges the mind without confusing 
 
GREEK AND ROMAN ART CONTRASTED. 
 
 oo 
 
 it. However poetic the imagination of the Greeks may have been, 
 it never led them astray from the limits of truth ; they aimed above 
 all things to be clear, intelligible, human ; for they lived in the midst 
 of men, and were men. As for us, though we admire these different 
 expressions of Greek art, Ave must not reproduce them, for our life is 
 very different ; but what Ave can and should appropriate to ourselves 
 are their eternal principles of truth ; in a word, Ave should reason 
 like them, but should not endeavor to speak the same language. 
 
 If the study of Greek art is necessary to architects, the study of 
 Roman art, though differing essentially in principle, is not less so. 
 
 The spirit of the Romans Avas not that of the Greeks. The Roman 
 Avas peculiarly a politician, an administrator ; he founded modern 
 civilization ; but he certainly Avas not an artist like the Greek. lie 
 Avas not endowed with that instinct which so organizes all conceptions 
 as to make them capable of being expressed in artistic forms. If avc 
 subject all Greek edifices to the same analysis that has been briefly 
 applied to a single Greek temple, Ave shall ahvays encounter the 
 same delicate and appreciative spirit, capable of availing itself of 
 every difficulty and every obstacle for the profit of art, even to the 
 least detail. But the analysis of a Roman monument reveals to us 
 other instincts and preoccupations. The Roman had regard only for 
 generalities, the fulfilment of a need, the satisfaction of a desire, lie 
 Avas not an artist; he governed, administered, constructed. Form, 
 to him, Avas a garment Avitli Avliich to cover his constructions ; lie did 
 not concern himself to knoAv Avhether a certain form Avas in perfect 
 harmony with the body it enclosed, and Avhether all its parts Avere 
 deductions from a principle. He did not trouble himself with such 
 subtilties. If the architectural garment Avas ample and solid, if it 
 Avas worthy of the object which it covered, if it did honor to him 
 Avho decreed the erection of the structure, he Avas content, Avithout 
 seeking to fulfil in it all tlie conditions of art, as the Greeks did. 
 
 It is useful to trace exactly the line of demarcation between Greek 
 and Roman art. To understand the qualities peculiar to these tAvo 
 civilizations is the best method of explaining the development of 
 modern art and of appreciating the value of what Ave have already 
 learned and Avhat Ave have yet to learn from either ; for if, in lan- 
 guage, political customs, and material habits, Ave are Latins, Ave arc 
 Greeks in the character of onr mind and genius. 
 
 The aboriginal or indigenous populations of Greece availed them- 
 
50 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 selves of anterior arts ; but they knew bow to appropriate without 
 copying, how to deduce principles by submitting these arts to a 
 fastidious taste founded upon human reason. They invented neither 
 general forms nor any system of construction ; but they did what 
 neither the Orientals nor the Egyptians, their predecessors, had 
 done, they applied logic to the art of architecture. In this they 
 became the fathers of the West, and opened the way to progress. 
 Though under all circumstances they continued to love and cherish 
 elegance of form, they preserved the purity of their principles in 
 art only so long as their genius remained unoppressed by the Roman 
 voice, which indeed deprived them of their essential characteristics as 
 Greeks. The Roman civilization under the Empire was like a great 
 sea, engulfing the barbarisms as well as the original genius of the 
 nations. Subjected to the Romans, the Greeks were only skilful 
 practitioners ; and this establishes the fact, that, for them as well as 
 for all other gifted nations, self-government is the only condition for 
 the healthy development of art. The Roman, by the necessity of 
 his political and administrative organization, assimilated and made 
 Roman everything he touched. 
 
 Yet, such was the native and inherent power of Greek art, that we 
 find its traces through all the Roman domination even to the end of 
 the Lower Empire ; ay, and after that, for we can still detect its 
 infiuence during the Middle Ages. We shall have occasion pres- 
 ently to study the character of these later developments, and we shall 
 discover that this study embraces a most interesting period in the 
 history of architecture and its derivative arts. 
 
 We h ave maintained that the arts of a nation develop indepen- 
 dently of its political or social condition. Now, the architecture of 
 the Greeks is precisely the expression of the intellectual state of the 
 people ; their genius was essentially artistic. They were not a 
 nation, in our sense of the word, but an agglomeration of societies, 
 whose condition was such as to foster the artistic sentiment. If they 
 were the first to develop patriotic ideas (ideas foreign to Oriental 
 nations even in our day), their patriotism was rather municipal than 
 national, — a local sentiment, cherished by the alliance of individual 
 interests within the limits of cities. So constituted, they Avere able to 
 resist the armed hordes of Persian slaves, but they were promptly 
 absorbed by the profoundly political organization of the Romans. 
 
 This distinction between nationalities and societies must be under- 
 
THE PATRIOTISM OF THE GREEK REPUBLICS. 
 
 0 1 
 
 stood, if we would know how the arts were successfully developed 
 among the Greeks, and how a similar development is to he reached 
 under our own different civilization. Meanwhile it is worthy of 
 observation that the political condition of the mediaeval republics of 
 Italy was analogous to that of the ancient republics of Greece, and 
 that accordingly Venice, Florence, Pisa, and Sienna, like Athens and 
 Corinth, developed the most brilliant art. 
 
 The patriotism of the Athenian was not that of the Roman citizen 
 or of the modern Parisian. In a town like Athens, all the citizens 
 participated in public affairs and took a direct interest in them, as 
 members of the same society. They were mutually acquainted, and 
 interests were not diffused as they have become in our modern popu- 
 lations. Their patriotism was rather a sense of joint responsibility 
 among members of an association, than the old Roman or modern 
 European sentiment, which consists in preserving a political unity 
 among provinces occupying a vast territory, often to the detriment 
 of local and particular interests. Now, when men are ruled by this 
 spirit of association, this guild-feeling , in which each one has, or 
 thinks he has, a responsible part in political affairs, everything which 
 they undertake is brought to an emphatic result : first, because such 
 a union encourages a spirit of criticism ; second, because each mem- 
 ber, considering himself an integral part of society, must needs be 
 exacting and fastidious ; third, because such individualities, becom- 
 ing powerful by patronage, are emulative, ambitious, and jealous, — 
 an unfortunate circumstance, perhaps, for the public good, but very 
 favorable to the development of the arts and all other works of 
 genius, and, therefore, to intellectual progress ; fourth, because public 
 opinion or suffrage is the only appeal, and to gain such appeal 
 requires incessant efforts to attract favor. The Athenian democracy, 
 besides, had the advantage of leisure ; all their business was trans- 
 acted through slaves. They passed their days in the public places, 
 under the porticos or in the gymnasium, conversing, philosophizing, 
 interchanging ideas on innumerable elevated subjects. And we must 
 not forget that the population of Athens and its environs numbered 
 not more than thirty or thirty-five thousand freemen, of whom about 
 twenty thousand concerned themselves in public affairs, and that the 
 rest were sailors or soldiers, often abroad and often bringing back 
 news and ideas. All the other intelligent cities of Greece were 
 governed in the same manner, Sparta being the only aristocracy, and 
 
58 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 this, unlike that of Rome, being exclusive and inhospitable ; the 
 gratification of pride was the only benefit the Spartan nobleman 
 obtained from his social position ; he was obliged to be poorer, worse 
 clothed, and worse fed than his subjects ; mutual contention or war- 
 fare was his only occupation, and it was only very late that a Spartan 
 of high birth could become a politician. The aristocracy of Sparta 
 did not concern itself with art ; but w.e shall soon see how the aris- 
 tocracy of Rome, otherwise constituted, could exercise an influence 
 over the arts and know nothing about them at the same time. 
 Now, why did the dangerous and unstable democracy of Athens 
 afford just those conditions under which art could develop with the 
 greatest energy ? 
 
 Because the artist had to gratify, not a school, not a chief, not a 
 sympathizing council, but the people ; and, among the Greeks, the 
 people were fastidious, critical, disputatious. If such a task is diffi- 
 cult, the recompense is precious when obtained ; for success, won 
 from such a public opinion, is the only reward which can really flat- 
 ter the artist. When an entire population is to be the judge of a 
 work of art, and when the instincts and education of such a popula- 
 tion are such that their judgments are good, the artist is truly inde- 
 pendent ; for when the appeal is to such a suffrage, who would dare 
 to confine the expression of his thought within the mere conventional 
 limit set by academies and schools? But when, as among the Ro- 
 mans, the arts become part of the machinery of government, when 
 they are administered, magnificence and grandeur may result ; we 
 may have a perfect expression of material wants, but the penetrating 
 savor of individuality, the elegance effected by study, the originality 
 which not only attracts but charms the senses, not only excites but 
 gratifies the imagination, is lost forever. 
 
 Such is the infirmity of human nature, that art, even when devel- 
 oping individually and independently, free from academic pedantry 
 and exclusiveness, is apt to fall from originality into mere correctness 
 or eclecticism ; common-sense becomes subtilty, and reason, sophistry, 
 unless the artist is kept in the true path by the exactions of an edu- 
 cated public, like that of Athens or of Florence in the fifteenth century, 
 impatient of such errors. In a merely political point of view the 
 history of the Greek societies is but a record of wars and rumors of 
 wars ; they were not even bound together by the ties of a common 
 religion. Yet, in the midst of this anarchy, the arts alone advanced, 
 
ART THE LEADING PRINCIPLE OF THE GREEK ‘SPIRIT. 59 
 
 were respected, and ruled. From the earliest heroic times art was the 
 only bond of union among them. Thus Theseus, king of Athens, 
 instituted the Panathenaic games at Athens, in order to procure from 
 the people of Attica, by a sort of religious confederation, the recog- 
 nition of that city as their metropolis. In the same manner all their 
 institutions were obliged to assume a form of art to be received by 
 the multitude. The whole Greek mythology is but a poetic envelope 
 given to the phenomena, the forces and revolutions of nature. Put 
 the Greeks were not the inventors of mythology ; I repeat, the 
 Greeks did not invent, they but gave a form especially beautiful 
 and choice to the physical and moral principles developed around 
 and within them. Their religion and their arts proceeded alike 
 from synthesis. The Athenians especially, who were the most re- 
 ligious, were also most inclined to make art rule over all things, or 
 rather to convert everything into a work of art. Among them, an 
 event, a fact, a phenomenon, good, evil, all that exists in the mate- 
 rial or immaterial world, was translated into this language, with a 
 delicacy of observation, a logical truthfulness, a simplicity and en- 
 ergy of expression, which seems almost superhuman. But faculties 
 so precious could only be developed in the midst of a perfectly 
 homogeneous society, all of whose members, moved by the same in- 
 telligence, understood each other, and were ecpially sensitive to the 
 different expressions of art. 
 
 If we open Pausanias, we discover how, even up to his time, the 
 productions of art were venerated among the Greeks. He often 
 speaks of cities, in great part abandoned, but whose populations 
 cherished a tender regard for their extinct splendors ; of ruined tem- 
 ples preserving still their statues of the divinities, though often made 
 of materials which were fragile or of such a nature as to tempt cu- 
 pidity. At every step we meet a reminiscence consecrated by a 
 monument. But, referring only to architecture, that which architects 
 ought especially to observe in the Greek cities is their general plans, 
 indicating how thoroughly their builders, even from the beginning, 
 were inspired by artistic ideas. It is no exaggeration to say that 
 such ideas were the first desires to be satisfied by the founders of 
 cities; the choice of site, the aspect and relative dimensions of their 
 principal buildings, the picturesque manner in which they were to 
 be grouped, the feeling for beauty of lines, the general effect, — all 
 these things were evidently foreseen and provided for. 
 
GO 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 When we reflect how little in our days considerations of this kind 
 are appreciated, how slightly they influence the decisions of our mod- 
 ern building committees, we measure with sadness the immense abyss 
 which separates us from those ages when the arts were really beloved. 
 We are a civilized people ; yet what are most of our towns, and what 
 will they be in a few centuries, when very probably our gross and 
 practical manner of satisfying material needs have forever masked or 
 swept from existence the few rare remains of ancient art ? What are 
 the cities of the New World, what the industrial towns of England? 
 That which we call civilization prompts us, in the nineteenth century, 
 to make wide and straight streets, bordered by uniform blocks of 
 houses. Thus our cities have become deserts for thought, and have 
 all the fatiguing monotony of solitude without its grandeur. Through 
 all these immense checkers of streets and squares, what souvenir is 
 there to move you, where is the repose for the weary spirit, where 
 is the eye to rest with gratitude or affection? Who shall say that 
 a hundred generations have trodden these paths before ns ? I do 
 not regret indeed the narrow and infected streets of our old towns, 
 where houses thrown together by chance, crowded lanes, and vener- 
 able monuments, disfigured by shops and squalid with dirt, form 
 but a disordered mass, a chaos without name ; but at least we may 
 find in the midst of this chaos some venerable relic of human thought 
 and labor, some historical monument to be cherished with tender 
 care, something which has not upon its front the mere mark of the 
 practical and material interests of the day. 
 
 This is why those among us who are born with the love of art fly 
 from these deserts of brick and stone, wood and iron, to be quick- 
 ened among the ruins of Athens, of Syracuse, or of Pæstum ; lor to 
 them these dead cities are more populous than are the streets of 
 Lyons or Manchester. 
 
 The Greeks knew that an imaginative people must be addressed 
 in the language of imagination ; that they must be pleased, and 
 would not be content with the mere satisfaction of material needs. 
 If their cities still preserve in the midst of their ruins a perfume of 
 art, it is because art was not among them a mere superfluous decora- 
 tion ; it ruled each structure, as a master, even from the laying of 
 the corner-stone ; nay, it presided at the foundation of the city. 
 
 Examine Agrigentum, for instance, one of the most beautiful 
 Dorian colonies of Sicily, and see with what care the site of that 
 
THE SITES OF GREEK CITIES. 
 
 Cl 
 
 city Avas chosen. Near a well-sheltered harbor rises a ridge of lime- 
 stone rocks running parallel with the shore ; the Greeks made this 
 chain of little hills the ramparts of the city on the side where attacks 
 Avere mostly to be feared, and they cut the ridges of these hills into 
 the form of thick walls pierced Avith gates. Parallel to these Avails, 
 on the level spaces of the rocky ramparts behind, they built a series 
 of temples ; thus presenting to the eyes of strangers entering the har- 
 bor a long line of monuments of very different dimensions, reposing 
 on an enormous base cut out of the living rock. Between this natu- 
 ral rampart and the Acropolis in the rear, Avhich overlooked the 
 whole neighborhood, is a valley, at the bottom of Avhich the city was 
 built, its habitations securely sheltered from the inclement north 
 and southeast Avinds of Sicily. On the south the city Avas bounded 
 by a long range of limestone hills, whose summits Avere artificially 
 levelled and occupied by temples Avhose outlines were strongly de- 
 fined against the sky, and on the north arose the Acropolis, of Avhose 
 monumental croAvn scarcely a vestige uoav remains. 
 
 At Selinus, another Dorian colony of Sicily, the temples Avere 
 built on tAvo plateaus, between Avhich the harbor Avas situated. The 
 relative positions of these monuments Avere chosen Avith rare taste 
 and skill ; and to isolate and distinguish them from the private 
 houses of the city, they were elevated on high basements or terraced 
 stylobates. 
 
 In this manner the Greek architect, faithful to his principles of 
 availing himself of Nature and subjecting his compositions to her 
 influence, examined his sites Avith rare sagacity. If he Avould con- 
 struct a theatre, he sought along the slopes of the rocky hills, so 
 frequent in the neighborhood of the Greek cities, some natural de- 
 pression, of an aspect favorable to actors and spectators ; then he 
 proceeded to cut the amphitheatre of seats out of the living rock, 
 completing by art those portions Avhere the nature of the site Avas 
 wanting to his design. The numerous theatres of the Peloponnesus 
 and of Sicily afford complete examples of this arrangement. Favored 
 by climate, the Greeks, in their cix il monuments, were not governed 
 by the necessity, peculiar to northern peoples, of covering and closing 
 in. If they desired to bring together a great concourse, they con- 
 tented themselves with building an enclosure, open to the sky and 
 surrounded Avith porticos, or Avith simply arranging it on some rocky 
 slope Avith a favorable exposure. They excelled in giving to these 
 
G2 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 primitive monuments a simple grandeur which never fell into ex- 
 aggeration or tours de force , evincing no apparent effort, and causing 
 none of that wonder or perplexity occasioned often by the ruins of 
 dead civilizations. The remains of Greek art, instead of bewilder- 
 ing us with a superhuman exhibition of power, are peculiarly expres- 
 sive of an actual life, which we, even when none but the faintest 
 traces of those remains are left, can readily understand and appre- 
 ciate. 
 
 Unfortunately, of the civil and domestic architecture of the Greeks 
 we possess little more than these rock-cut vestiges. But Hercula- 
 neum and Pompeii may, by the exercise of imagination, realize to us 
 the idea of a Greek city, and enable us to live for a moment in the 
 midst of its population. By all that we can discover in these curi- 
 ous remains of Pompeii, by a few ruins here and there, by paintings, 
 by the destroyed city of Segeste, we are led to the inference that 
 the domestic architecture of the Greeks had as little variety as their 
 religious structures. It is by no such quality that Greek archi- 
 tecture commends itself to our study. A good plan once found, 
 the Greek architect did not consider it necessary to modify it 
 essentially. He had too much good taste to seek after the fan- 
 tastic, the capricious, the surprising. Those who truly love art do 
 not exhaust themselves in search after novelties ; for them good 
 things are always new and always admirable ; “ a thing of beauty 
 is a joy forever.” The Greek architect felt this, and in perfecting 
 his works he modified neither his principle nor his theme. He 
 applied research only to refine his detail ; and even when, in later 
 times, research so applied fell into abuse, when grace became affec- 
 tation, when purity became barrenness, and care was degraded to 
 minuteness, we still see, through all tins senility, the vivacious 
 energy of principle. Even when the Greek artists became the 
 obedient slaves of their too powerful neighbors of Rome, they 
 still preserved for a long time, in their freshness, the principles 
 which ruled their arts ; but gradually the lessening remains of 
 this vitality faded away, until, under the Emperors, the Greeks were 
 reduced to the rôle of mere professional decorators. 
 
 In the next discourse I propose to explain the causes of this 
 decline. 
 
THIRD DISCOURSE. 
 
 COMPARISON BETWEEN THE ARCHITECTURE OF THE GREEKS AM) ROMANS. 
 
 has been already intimated that the peculiar charac- 
 Hrv teristic of the Roman people was an aptitude to or- 
 ganize and govern. Up to their time, the conquerors 
 in history had been anything but civilizers ; to con- 
 quer a nation had been to rob and enslave it, to 
 h (ÿ' degrade rather than to elevate ; and, indeed, the Ro- 
 
 mans themselves were sometimes but greedy masters, more desirous 
 of enriching themselves from their conquests than of enlightening 
 the people they had subdued. This is not the place to recount the 
 history of the long and bloody struggles through which the Romans 
 ultimately became the masters of Italy, — struggles rather social than 
 political, since they aimed, on the one hand, to preserve the wealth 
 and power of a handful of patricians, and, on the other, to elevate 
 the people from a condition bordering on slavery and to conquer for 
 them the rights of citizens. This subject has been well treated by 
 one of the most distinguished of our contemporaneous writers, M. 
 Mérimée, who, under the modest title of Essais sur la Guerre Sociale, 
 has vividly related the terrible struggles of the last days of the re- 
 public, and has discovered to us (though this was not the aim of his 
 work) the various sources whence the Romans obtained their arts. 
 
 The Romans of the early republic, unlike the Egyptians, the 
 Oriental nations, and the Greeks, had no arts of their own. They 
 were really a people insignificant in numbers, under the despotism 
 of a few patricians, Avho were entirely occupied in aggrandizing 
 themselves at the expense of their neighbors ; a species of brigands, 
 moved in the beginning but by one common sentiment, that of domi- 
 
04 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 nation and rapine, and enjoying few or none of those blessings which 
 are procured by culture and the love of art. 
 
 But Rome was surrounded by nations among which the arts had 
 already reached an extraordinary development. Campania and 
 Etruria were covered with religious, secular, and domestic structures, 
 whose value as works of art are still attested by remains of great 
 beauty. The Etruscans, from a*n indefinite and very remote epoch, 
 possessed already the vault, which was unknown to the Greeks. It 
 is doubtful whence they obtained this feature, and the hypotheses on 
 this subject, while peculiarly interesting to the archaeologist, have no 
 relation to the task before us. Let it suffice here to say that the East 
 used the vault long before it was known to the West. The recent 
 discoveries at Nineveh have brought to light monuments with vaults 
 of mud or clay moulded over forms or centres, and arches built with 
 voussoirs of moulded bricks.. Now, the Romans, with rare sagacity, 
 appropriated all that they found useful among the nations with which 
 they came in contact. Thus their soldiers obtained their equipment 
 from many sources : their bucklers were Samnite, their swords, Span- 
 ish, etc. Cæsar, in Sallust, says : “ Whenever our people saw 
 among their allies or their enemies anything which they could make 
 useful, they took care to appropriate it and apply it to their needs at 
 home.” * They were essentially practical and utilitarian. 
 
 The Romans thus obtained from the Etruscans the round arch, 
 built of stones fitted together ; from Campania, the general arrange- 
 ment of their sacred edifices, the Greek orders, the plans and deco- 
 ration of their domestic structures. In this manner they sought to 
 unite two conflicting principles of construction, obtained from two 
 different sources, — the principle of the Greek lintel and of the 
 Etruscan arch. Their ideas of art were those of pirates, who, with 
 barbarous and tasteless pride, adorn themselves with foreign and 
 incongruous spoils. 
 
 That refined sensibility of the Greeks which led them to observe 
 with incomparable delicacy all physical and moral phenomena, that 
 faculty which, with them, took the place of science and enabled them 
 to obtain results far beyond its reach, was unknown to the Romans, 
 whose genius and arts were different from those of the Greeks in 
 character and development. They were a political, legislative, ad- 
 
 * “Majores nostri .... quod ubique apud soeios aut liostes idoneum videbatur, cum 
 summo studio domi exsequebantur.” 
 
THE ROMANS ACQUISITIVE, THE GREEKS PRODUCTIVE. 65 
 
 ministrative people. The aristocracy of Rome was very powerful, and 
 in possession of admirable political traditions, constantly gaining new 
 acquisitions from all quarters. The senate, the supreme power of 
 Rome, was composed of the descendants of ancient families or men 
 distinguished in the public service, who had in their hands all the 
 administration of state ; and this, at Rome, included war, the gov- 
 ernment of conquered provinces, legislation, justice. The public 
 service was the chief object of ambition with every Roman citizen, 
 and this tendency was so strong among them that even in the last 
 days of the republic, the Latin soil was divided between two distinct- 
 classes, — public functionaries and slaves: the former, all landhold- 
 ers, absorbed in political intrigues and the management of their 
 estates ; the latter, reduced to the most abject state, delivered up to 
 robbery and all the vices engendered by servitude, ignorance, and 
 idleness. As for the free plebeians, they were the most barbarous, 
 gross, mercenary, and corrupt populace that- ever filled a great city ; 
 unscrupulous, superstitious, and venal, they were the tools of the 
 demagogues, the victims of the wealth, the factions, and the cunning 
 of the patricians. Among a people so constituted and so employed, 
 the culture of the arts is impossible. The Greeks, on the other hand, 
 were industrious, commercial, sensitive to physical and moral beauty, 
 eager for discussion and controversy ; they were proud of their hu- 
 manity, and happy in the possession of their poets, their historians, 
 their orators and artists. It is singular, in the history of nations, to 
 meet with a people distinguished at- once by mercantile aptitude, and 
 by an exquisite feeling and sympathy for works of art ; to see the 
 vanity of wealth compatible with a nice discernment for the true 
 principles of taste ; to behold a nation, inconstant in ideas, in- 
 conceivably fickle in prejudices, worshipping a man one day and 
 proscribing him the next, yet at the same time progressing with 
 unheard-of rapidity; within the space of a few years traversing all 
 systems of philosophy, all forms of government, laying the founda- 
 tions of all sciences, making war on all its neighbors, yet, in the 
 midst of tliis chaos of ideas, systems, and passions, developing art 
 steadily and with calm intelligence, giving to it novelty, originality, 
 and beauty, while preserving it pure from the aberrations and ca- 
 prices of what we now call fashion. At the time of the battle of Sal- 
 amis, 480 b. c., Athens had been destroyed, its territory ravaged, and 
 the Athenians had nothing left but their ships ; yet so great was the 
 
CG 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 activity of this commercial but artistic people, that, only twenty years 
 afterwards, they had built the Parthenon ; and Æschylus, who had 
 fought at Salamis, had produced his tragedy of the “ Persians,” in 
 which the great barbarian king, the enemy of Greece, was repre- 
 sented as heroic and noble. In this, doubtless, was implied flattery 
 for those who could conquer him ; yet, as the magnanimity which 
 could commend alike the conqueror and the conquered would proba- 
 bly be a severe trial for a modern audience and would be hissed 
 from the stage, it was the mark of a pure taste and a high art among 
 the people of Athens that they could appreciate and applaud it. 
 
 Greek art, though it did not always develop with the same per- 
 fection, never quitted the path of progress ; it was a consistent unit, 
 while all the other expressions of the intelligence and versatile pas- 
 sions of this singular people were the victims of chance and change. 
 The Romans, on the other hand, had but one idea, universal domina- 
 tion ; and this idea was so firmly rooted in the mind of the Roman 
 citizen, that, within scarcely two centuries, three quarters of Europe, 
 all Western Asia and Northern Africa, became subject to his will, 
 though even in the days of the republic there were already symptoms 
 of decomposition which foreshadowed the fall of the whole pagan 
 system. The mechanism employed to obtain this result was simple : 
 the Roman citizen assumed the attitude of a sovereign ; if he con- 
 quered a territory, he seized and farmed out its public domain, 
 encouraged colonization there, and insured peaceful possession for 
 the Romans and their allies in the subjugated country; thus arose 
 •on every side colonies which were essentially and peculiarly Roman. 
 If the Romans gave the title of ally to a country, they assumed a 
 protectorate over it, engaged to assist it against its most distant 
 enemies, assimilated its interests, and absorbed it in their vast organ- 
 ization. By in turns dividing, flattering, protecting, and chastising 
 barbarous nations, the prestige of Roman power was gradually 
 established over the whole known world. There was a unity in 
 the political economy of Rome which did not exist in that of Greece, 
 because, as I have already said, the Greek cities were independent 
 municipalities, while Rome was the centre of a vast hierarchy which 
 could only be broken up by a social revolution or by a torrent of 
 barbarians. 
 
 This brief recapitulation of the Roman polity is necessary to a 
 comprehension of the character of Roman art, which was but a 
 
ART AN INSTRUMENT IN ROMAN POLITICS. 
 
 07 
 
 means, an instrument, as we have already said, and not a joy for its 
 own sake, as among the Greeks. The Roman disdained everything 
 which did not perform a useful function in this great political sys- 
 tem ; he troubled himself little to know whether a certain form of 
 art was in harmony with the true principles of that art ; he cared 
 not to discuss, like the Greek, whether his opinions were logically 
 deduced ; he did not delight in an outline, a play of light and shade : 
 he demanded but one thing, that his work should be Roman, a 
 symbol of his grandeur and power, and, more especially, that it 
 should agree with his political system, and be a useful work, filling 
 exactly a prescribed programme. He made roads, bridged rivers, 
 introduced water into cities by means of immense aqueducts ; built 
 amphitheatres, which should be places of public reunion, not only for 
 the municipal duties, but for the pleasure of the people. He con- 
 cerned himself little whether an allied or vanquished people pre- 
 served their religion, provided they conformed to his laws ; on the 
 contrary, he incorporated the gods of the subject nations into his 
 own polytheism, and thus attached his foreign vassals to his own 
 fortunes by the strongest of human ties, — religion and fixed institu- 
 tions. It was the same with the arts. The Roman found among 
 the Greeks superior workmen ; lie imported them, hired them, and 
 permitted them to decorate his monuments according to their own 
 taste, but recognizing the artist only as a workman. As for the gen- 
 eral forms and plans of his public buildings, their style and system 
 of construction, he himself, the Roman, imposed them, from the 
 Euxine to Britannia. 
 
 There is certainly something grand in this way of using the art of 
 architecture, and it would seem, at first sight, to be in conformity 
 with the spirit of modern governments ; yet we may well doubt 
 whether it is really in harmony with the character, manners, and tra- 
 ditions of the western nations of modern Europe. In France, for 
 instance, endowed, as she is, with the artistic instinct, with imagi- 
 nation stronger than will, with a restless spirit ever ready to pursue 
 any chimera which presents itself in the form of a sentiment or an 
 idea, intellectual independence, free criticism, study, discussion, have 
 always proved themselves necessary elements in the development of 
 her art ; it has ever flourished when the field was open to it, and 
 we have beheld it enfeebled and degraded whenever forced from its 
 natural growth by an arbitrary fashion. 
 
6 8 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 The relations between art and politics should be understood. Art, 
 like a religion, may either be cherished, tolerated, or neglected by a 
 nation. In the first case, it develops proudly and freely, without 
 embarrassment or constraint, making, and not receiving, its laws ; in 
 the second, it is subject to dictation and apt to be used as part of the 
 political machine ; in the third, it is mysterious and exclusive, it has 
 its secrets and proceeds by initiation. Thus in Greece art, because it 
 was loved, was made free ; there it ruled without a question of au- 
 thority ; it was pure and simple because unrestrained. Among the 
 Romans it was absorbed by the state, yielded to laws outside of itself, 
 and became an instrument. But in the Middle Ages, among the 
 western nations, especially in France, it was isolated ; it had its own 
 language ; it developed in silence, receiving modifications and im- 
 provements without regard to the sympathy or appreciation of the 
 multitude. 
 
 I dare to hope that these Discourses will plainly set forth the rela- 
 tions which have existed and still exist between the arts and the 
 political economy of ancient and modern civilizations. I say, which 
 still exist, because we are in the midst of a spectacle full of instruc- 
 tion to him who observes, with an unprejudiced mind, the general 
 tone of the discussions which have arisen in regard to the arts. On 
 the one side we behold the preachers of antique art, on the other the 
 apostles of mediaeval art. I refer here to artists who have strong 
 convictions and defend principles, not to those who are ready to 
 adopt any form of art, loving them all alike. I do not disdain, but 
 distrust such liberal ideas, as wanting in that earnestness and sincerity 
 without which art cannot live, and without which the public must 
 become more and more indifferent. Now, in these two opposed 
 camps there is something more than a mere array of artists, some 
 under the banner of antiquity, and others under that of mediævalism ; 
 there are here present two great principles, which, since Greek antiq- 
 uity, have not ceased and do not cease to wage bitter warfare : these 
 principles are, on the one hand, submission of individual intelligence 
 to consideration of policy ; on the other, the independence of the 
 human mind in all which relates to conscience and intellectual 
 inspiration. This warfare is not at an end, and I do not see that 
 anybody is to be inconvenienced or hurt by its duration ; but it is 
 well to know what this contention really implies. The adherents of 
 the antique have for a long time confounded the Greeks and the 
 
THE RELATIONS OF ART TO POLITICS. 
 
 09 
 
 Romans, while, in reality, the arts of these two nations are devel- 
 oped from principles diametrically opposed to each other, those of 
 the former being free and those of the latter enslaved ; and there is 
 reason to believe that the Greek artists would have found more 
 sympathy among those of the Middle Ages than among the Romans, 
 who have hitherto been regarded as their allies, but were in fact their 
 oppressors. 
 
 We have seen that the art of the Romans was merely one of the 
 expressions of a great political and administrative system, adapted to 
 their times and needs, but entirely exceptional in the history of 
 Europe. We have already reviewed the condition of public affairs, 
 in their relations to art, before the Roman era. If we now glance at 
 the condition of things after that era, we behold a spectacle of an 
 entirely different character : nations constantly struggling against the 
 institutions which rule them, the Gallo-Roman peoples of mediae- 
 val France reacting against the ecclesiastical and feudal systems 
 imposed on them by their barbarian conquerors from Germany ; 
 royalty, when it is strong enough, we see availing itself of these 
 opposing elements to enfeeble each by turn, encouraging rather than 
 preventing their endless quarrels. In the midst of this chaos, no 
 one, of course, cares about art or dreams of imposing formulae on it. 
 So it is, as it were, delivered up to itself, advances slowly, and ex- 
 presses itself whenever and wherever the tumults of the time permit. 
 It takes refuge in the cloister, but soon, stifled by the monkish rou- 
 tine, it shakes itself free with the same energy that we see displayed 
 at that time in the establishment of municipal rights. The govern- 
 ments of those days, if we can give the name to such an incongruous 
 mass of institutions, are not wise enough to understand that art is a 
 powerful element of civilization ; so they use it without trying to 
 subject it. Art, indeed, seems to be the only refuge for liberty. 
 Thus, in the midst of a society tossed hither and thither in the tur- 
 bulence of factions, degraded by excesses, wasted in long and cruel 
 wars, we see art advancing with steady and regular steps, diverted 
 by no side issues, rejecting errors and improving by experience, in 
 the same manner as, before the Roman era, art pursued its regular 
 course in the midst of the disorders and turbulence of Greece. This 
 was because art, in both cases, governed itself; because it developed 
 under the study and criticism of artists and by an uninterrupted 
 succession of deductions ; because it was free from the restraints of 
 
70 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 routine, and submitted to no academic formulas; because it drew its 
 inspiration from every source, and had no other guide but reason 
 and public sentiment. Greek society, like the infèrior society of 
 the Middle Ages, developed with commerce and the arts ; and the 
 arts, like commerce, developed only under the condition of absolute 
 freedom. 
 
 Now, the Romans were neither merchants nor artists ; they main- 
 tained no foreign relations according to the modern fashion, but, as 
 conquerors of the world, everything must be Romanized or extermi- 
 nated, and, to obtain this end, the colonial and protectorate systems 
 were established, as already explained. All colonizing nations, like the 
 modern English, for instance, have employed the same general means 
 to preserve their conquests and make them tributary to the grandeur 
 and power of the mother country. In the case of the Romans these 
 means were absolute religious liberty, civil and personal guaranties, 
 tribunals appointed by the subject states with au appeal to the Roman 
 magistrate, who intervened in affairs only to remedy local abuses and 
 to show how much better the Roman government was than that which 
 it replaced ; a central power, protecting without embarrassing by 
 complicated administrative machinery ; the enrolment of the con- 
 quered or allied populations ; and, what concerns our particular 
 subject more closely, important works of public utility, clearing 
 lands, fortifying cities, draining marshes, building roads, bridges, 
 canals, aqueducts, harbors, civil structures, basilicas, town halls, 
 theatres, baths, permanent camps, vast magazines, sewers, fountains, 
 etc. The organization of the conquering army itself Avas applied in 
 the construction of these works, aided by numerous requisitions for 
 laborers from among the vanquished people ; and soon the aspect of 
 the cities Avas changed, their plans were completed or rectified, they 
 Avere surrounded with walls, and, within and without, public estab- 
 lishments were built according to a uniform fashion ; thus in a feAv 
 years or even months the Gallic or German city became Roman, and 
 conqueror and conquered alike found themselves surrounded by 
 Roman institutions and Roman monuments. Under the application 
 of such a system Ave can readily understand how local traditions and 
 national sentiments were lost in the midst of the manners and habits 
 of Rome; hoAV the civilization, the regular government, the wealth, 
 the comfort established in the midst of semi-barbarous peoples, soon 
 effaced from their minds the memory of their oavii ruder manners 
 
CONTRAST BETWEEN GREEK AND ROMAN GENIUS IN ART. 7 1 
 
 and customs. The part which art had to play in this great political 
 and administrative system is sufficiently evident ; but this part was, 
 and could only be, very secondary. 
 
 So great is the difference between Roman and Greek genius ! The 
 Greek settled down upon no prescribed form, he was engaged in 
 ceaseless inquiry and search after improvement, he examined his 
 subject in all its bearings, but he expressed himself under the limi- 
 tations of a logical principle founded on his reason, his observation, 
 and bis desire of harmony. The same spirit, applied to the in- 
 tellectual domain, caused the philosophers to produce the most con- 
 flicting systems ; for them, the field of intelligence had no limit even 
 in the absurd, because, as regards the immaterial side of nature, from 
 deduction to deduction, following rigorously the rules of logic, we 
 can arrive at last at the point of proving the possibility of that which 
 common-sense declares and demonstrates to be impossible, — at the 
 point of denying movement, for instance, or being. But, in the 
 material world, logic, as it has to deal with visible, palpable matter, 
 having its properties and its insuperable laws, can lead to no such 
 aberrations. The Greek architect may have found various absurd 
 causes for the phenomena of gravitation, but he could not misunder- 
 stand, and he knew he could not infringe the laws, which governed 
 those phenomena, lie may have erred about the causes, but not 
 about the effects ; for he was a careful and attentive observer, saga- 
 cious in the practical application of his observations. A Greek 
 sculptor did not understand the principles of the circulation of the 
 blood, nor the exact functions of the muscles and bones ; but lie 
 observed the human body in its external, actual, and visible form 
 with a sagacity which enabled him to give to his statue the outlines 
 and true movements of nature ; nay, enabled him to go beyond 
 nature, to complete and rectify her, as it were, by virtue of this 
 thorough observation. The Greek architect put a capital on his 
 column, but he did not put his column on a base, or, if he did, it 
 was close to the ground and of circular plan, like the foot of the 
 column, lest it impede the passage of his portico ; all his methods 
 proceeded from the same observation of the phenomena of nature 
 and from the same application of obvious laws. 
 
 But not to pause longer over details, let us proceed to the con- 
 sideration of a fact which is of the greatest importance, and which 
 merits all our attention. In our preceding discourse, we have seen 
 
72 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 how the Greek constructor reasoned when he built a temple, through 
 what a series of reasonable deductions he at length arrived at that 
 general disposition of architectural forms, that mutual agreement 
 between isolated points of support and the thing supported, which 
 we call order. This disposition found, and all its parts harmonized 
 together, at first by necessity, and then by the strict observation of 
 their relative effects, functions, and of the apparent and concealed 
 nature of their materials, the Greek had attained snch a positive idea 
 of proportions, of a mutual relationship of architectural features, that 
 no essential part of his work could be modified without offending at 
 once that reason and that exquisite delicacy of feeling which had 
 combined to produce the result. He was as certain of the accuracy 
 of his reasoning as the mathematician is of the truth of his demon- 
 stration ; and as an architect, he was certain of the perfection of his 
 senses, of his artistic perceptions, because his fellow-workers compre- 
 hended and sympathized with them. In a word, he had confidence 
 in his reason and in his inspiration, and he could not admit that 
 reason and inspiration could solve a given problem in two ways, 
 both equally simple and honest. If he doubted as a philosopher, 
 he did not doubt as an artist, for as such he defined matter, dealing 
 with it experimentally. If he did not know the composition of 
 matter, he had observed the effects of its strength, of its weight, 
 of the light on its surfaces, of its resistance to exterior forces. The 
 result, then, which he had reached was absolute. From this positive 
 character of excellence and beauty, in a given case, to the exact repro- 
 duction of that excellence and beauty when the conditions were 
 similar, was but a natural and logical deduction ; the Greek him- 
 ' self might have reasoned thus : “ Since I have established an archi- 
 tectural composition, all of whose members are in their necessary 
 places, and all so related to each other as to commend themselves 
 at once to reason and the senses, this composition is an expression 
 of order ; it is order. If I should suppress one of its members, 
 or change the relations established between them, I should destroy 
 my work. But as my work is perfect, I must preserve it in its 
 integrity. I know it is perfect, because in producing it I was at first 
 guided solely by my reason, which taught me how to lay my horizon- 
 tal lintels on their perpendicular supports, what space I ought to 
 leave between those supports, how I ought to unite my portico to 
 the wall of the cella, how I ought to shelter the whole ; and then 
 
THE 
 
 PANTHEON. 
 
 
 DETAILS OF CONSTRUCTION. 
 

 
THE DEVELOPMENT OF OLDER IN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 my senses indicated the forms and proportions proper to my build- 
 ing, and how to decorate those forms. My work is therefore abso- 
 lutely good. It is a distinct unity ; it has a right to exist inde- 
 pendent of whatever dimensions may he given it, for dimensions 
 do not modify proportions ; whether, therefore, I have a portico to 
 build thirty cubits or ten cubits high, the relations between the 
 various parts of this portico, that is to say, between the columns, 
 their spaces apart, and the entablature, remain the same. My order 
 therefore is a distinct type, whose proportions I am at liberty to 
 reproduce without regard to dimension.” 
 
 If the soundness of a reason may be measured by the length of 
 time in which it has been practically applied, this reasoning of the 
 Greeks, it must be admitted, is excellent. In fact, the Greek order 
 or orders once established, their relative proportions were essentially 
 preserved independently of scale ; and though used bv the Romans 
 with certain modifications, of which we shall have occasion to speak 
 presently, they were never afterwards frankly abandoned, but by the 
 architects of the Middle Ages. The Greek architecture had a module 
 or unit of admeasurement in itself, — the diameter of the column, 
 for instance ; but mediæval architecture had its module outside of 
 itself, that is, the height of a man. Roman architecture developed 
 a transition between these two methods, a transition arising from the 
 preference given by the Romans to utility, the satisfaction of their 
 material desires over the abstract and instinctive art-forms of the 
 Greeks. 
 
 Roman architecture, as it is the exact stamp and expression of a 
 vast political system, must remain for us an inexhaustible and in- 
 valuable subject of study ; it has a value peculiar to itself. But this 
 study must be pursued with discernment ; we must concern ourselves 
 with the truth there is in this architecture, and not with the details 
 which clothed this truth, regardless of honesty and propriety of ex- 
 pression. In Greek architecture the visible, exterior form was but 
 the result of construction ; it may be compared to a naked man, the 
 surface of whose body is but the consequence of his needs, of the 
 structure of his organs, of the mutual relations and positions of his 
 bones, functions, and muscles. His beauty increases when all parts 
 of his 1 xxly are exactly fitted to their several purposes, • — nothing 
 more or less. But Roman architecture is the man clothed ; the man 
 is one thing, his clothing is another ; this clothing may be good or 
 
74 
 
 DISCOURSES ON AECHITECTURE. 
 
 bad, rich or poor, well or badly cut, but it is not a part* of his body; 
 if well made and beautiful, it ought to be studied ; but if it inter- 
 feres with his movements, if there is neither grace nor reason in its 
 forms, it should be disregarded. Thus Roman architecture has its 
 true, real, useful system of construction, combined by a master-hand 
 with the view of answering certain definite purposes ; it has also its 
 envelope, its decoration, which is independent of the structure, as 
 clothing is independent of the man. The Romans, as practical 
 people, attached but a secondary importance to this clothing, this 
 decoration ; they wanted it simply to cover and do honor to their 
 monuments ; they cared little whether it was reasonably applied or 
 not, whether or not it indicated exactly the essential forms of the 
 construction of the edifice, and illustrated those forms. The Roman 
 was above, or rather did not sympathize with or comprehend, the 
 reasoning of the Greek. 
 
 I am sometimes accused of attributing too much to reason and 
 too little to sentiment in architecture ; the positions I have assumed 
 would therefore seem to require from me a further explanation on 
 these points. What, then, is sentiment as regards art? Is it not 
 an involuntary action of reason applied by education to instinct ? A 
 shepherd’s dog is but a wolf, whose instinct is directed by his ani- 
 mal reason, developed by education ; instead of eating the sheep, he 
 watches them lest they are stolen or killed. Our instinct causes us 
 to prefer various sounds, our sentiment discriminates between true 
 and false intonations ; and why ? Because our reason has acted on 
 our instinct. The same is true of architectural proportions. Reason 
 acts upon the senses, independently of the will, to govern them and 
 create what we call sentiment. Now, the Greeks were such a peo- 
 ple of reasoners that a good many of their philosophers became most 
 unreasonable simply by the earnestness of their desire to be rea- 
 sonable ; but this nation of reasoners was more richly endowed with 
 the sentiment of art than any other; it was the first to establish 
 the orders of architecture, that is to say, the first to convert an 
 instinct, that of proportions, into a law. Other nations, before the 
 Greeks, had been guided by the same instinct in their buildings, 
 as is shown in their evident desire to establish certain relations 
 and contrasts between the various parts ; but none of them could, 
 like the Greeks, elevate this instinct to the authority of a law so 
 just that it has never been broken without detriment to the effect 
 produced on the senses. 
 
THE SENTIMENT OE PROPORTIONS. 
 
 75 
 
 Every monument in the world which is worthy of notice, from 
 the farthest east to the limits of the west, produces on the mind a 
 double impression, — admiration and pleasure ; but there remains a 
 feeling of embarrassment, of perplexity, because it requires an effort 
 of the mind to understand ' the monument, so that, were it not for 
 the desire of comprehending it, the mind of the spectator would be 
 simply startled. It is reserved for the Greek monument alone to 
 produce a homogeneous impression, to require no mental effort to 
 familiarize us with its structure and intention ; it is as clear to the 
 casual observer as to the architect versed in the knowledge of his 
 art. It says at once and to all what it has to say ; but, strange as it 
 may appear, this very quality, so unique and so lovely, seems a fault 
 to those who have become habituated by our modern practice to 
 see in architecture a perpetual enigma. I have sometimes heard it 
 asked, “ In what consists the beauty of the Parthenon ?” As well 
 might it be asked, “ In what consists the beauty of a well-made 
 youth, stripped of his clothing?” We can but reply, “He is beau- 
 tiful, because he is ; because, without an effort of the intelligence, 
 without calculation, we know that he can walk, that he is robust, 
 that he understands, sees, thinks, that he is complete, that he is a 
 unity.” By means of their law of the orders, the Greeks, in archi- 
 tecture, arrived at the same result. This architecture is beautiful 
 because, like the man, it needs neither explanation nor commentary, 
 because it cannot be otherwise. I do not believe it possible to 
 arrive at this perfection in any other way than by the application 
 of reason to the satisfaction of the instincts. 
 
 Vitruvius, who, though not a great philosopher, was imbued with 
 the Greek ideas about art, yet who saw only superficially, like a true 
 Roman, began his third book on the temples with a chapter in which 
 he undertook to establish an analogy between the proportions of the 
 human body and those of the temples and of the orders which com- 
 pose them. . This chapter of Vitruvius, in fact, establishes nothing ; 
 it is impossible to draw from it any practical conclusion; but it 
 raises a corner of the curtain which conceals the philosophy applied 
 by the Greeks to architecture, if we seek in the structure of the 
 human body, not a metrical scale, as lie supposes, to fix certain rela- 
 tions between the members of an order, but a method. Let us not 
 forget that the Greeks were accustomed to take the ideal man as their 
 starting-point, and that no people ever more thoroughly understood 
 
76 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 man, both mentally and physically. In order to establish laws of 
 architectural proportion, as the Greeks did, such a starting-point is 
 necessary, for, in the beginning, proportions are but arbitrary rela- 
 tions, an instinctive desire not to be defined. But the Greeks, with 
 all their poetic instincts, were not content with vague ideas, it rvas 
 necessary for them to apply a form or a principle to everything, even 
 in the immaterial world. Their mythology is the most evident proof 
 of this. 
 
 If there remained to us a treatise on architecture by Ictinus, he 
 would perhaps have afforded us a clear explanation of this analogy 
 between the human body and the architectural structure in general 
 and the orders in particular. In the absence of such a treatise, 
 let us endeavor to reason as he would have done. Man, of all 
 ^organized beings, is the most complete, and this relative perfection 
 is so apparent, so real, that he is at the head of the whole organic 
 creation. He is the myth of structure. If, then, we would construct, 
 we must take him as a model, not directly as regards the form of 
 the thing to be constructed, but as regards the method applicable to 
 such construction. Now, among organized beings, many have certain 
 organs in greater perfection than the corresponding organs in man, 
 many are more agile or more powerful, but none present so complete 
 an aggregate of physical faculties adapted and proportioned to phys- 
 x ical and intellectual needs. The Greek, therefore, considering this 
 most perfect expression of harmony between requirements and ex- 
 terior forms, was evidently justified, when the constructional necessi- 
 ties of his architecture were developed, in taking this expression and 
 applying its principles to the problem before him, so that those ne- 
 cessities might be confessed, explained, and honored in his building 
 in like manner. He wished his building to be beautiful as he him- 
 self was beautiful. But it was form, and not anatomy, he observed 
 in man ; he studied osteology, for instance, only through the visible 
 play of muscles and their cutaneous envelope ; he did not separate 
 the different parts, created to make one, and distract himself from 
 the object in view by an independent analysis of them, but he knew 
 exactly their mutual relations, their functions, and their appearance ; 
 from the application of this study to his art resulted that sobriety, 
 that harmonious relationship between the members of his architecture 
 and their functions, which so charm us in the structure of the human 
 body. Vitruvius was right to this extent. But it is necessary to be 
 
. THE HUMAN BODY IN GREEK ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 77 
 
 cautious in adopting ideas evolved in the philosophical study of an art 
 so positive as architecture. Permit me therefore to offer a practical 
 illustration of the principles I have here endeavored to set forth. 
 
 In the structure of every organized being, and more particularly 
 in that of man, whatever may be his movement or attitude, the bony 
 system is always apparent in salient points united by convex or concave 
 surfaces, according to the character of the fleshy parts between them. 
 The more energetic the movement, the straigliter do these curves be- 
 come. The Greeks have shown their comprehension of this rule in 
 their statuary, and they seem to have applied it to their architecture. 
 Before their time, the Egyptians, in the profiles of their architecture, 
 had certainly in view the imitation of vegetable forms. Their capi- 
 tals, for example, evidently reproduced the curves of flowers or fruits. 
 The Greeks, on the contrary, in their profiles, recalled rather the 
 curved surfaces of muscles or of the fleshy integument between the 
 extremities of the bones. When the artist would give an appearance 
 of vigor to an architectural member, in tracing the profile of it he 
 followed the energetic lines which characterize the muscles when in a 
 state of violent tension. He did not trace these profiles by any me- 
 chanical means, as the compass ; his hand was only guided by his 
 exquisite feeling for the forms which he had observed and knew so 
 well. The outline of the Doric capital, for example, in the most 
 ancient Greek monuments, presents an emphatic curve (Eig. 1, pro- 
 file A*)- But the true artist, not content with the first expression of 
 his idea, dwelt upon it, that he might perfect it and make it a more 
 faithful exponent. The outline of the primitive Doric capital pres- 
 ently appeared to him to want energy, not to indicate its function of 
 support with sufficient clearness ; so he traced the profile B ; f then 
 he reduced the moulding to a mere inverted truncated cone, uniting 
 the projection of the abacus with the upper circumference of the 
 column with a straight line, as shown by the profile C.f Thus, by 
 the exercise of his reason, the Greek architect insensibly passed from 
 the capital A, whose echinus resembles a cushion, a soft body inter- 
 posed between the shaft and the abacus, to the capital C, whose form 
 and almost bald profile expresses an energetic support, bringing the 
 weight of the abacus, and that which the abacus sustains, to bear 
 directly on the shaft of the column. 
 
 * From the Acropolis of Selinus. 
 
 + From the Parthenon. 
 
 t From the temple of Ceres at Eleusis. 
 
7S 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Fig. 12. 
 
 If we examine these profiles attentively, we shall see that the rea- 
 son of the constructor and the sentiment of the artist proceed together 
 in them. The architrave, hearing on the capital A, the most ancient 
 of the three, presents its face at D, on a line with the shaft. Subse- 
 quently the constructor of the Parthenon was shocked to see the 
 useless projection I) G of the abacus, and remedied the difficulty by 
 advancing the face of the architrave, bearing on his capital B, to the 
 point E, thus making it overhang the shaft so as to require a more 
 energetic curve in the echinus. Subsequently the architect advanced 
 the architrave still farther, to the point E on the capital C, and ac- 
 cordingly exaggerated the expression of support in that capital. 
 
 It is evident that the Greeks, in their buildings of stone or mar- 
 ble which are known to us, did not imitate wood construction ; nor, 
 in the details of these buildings, did they follow vegetable forms, 
 as the Egyptians always did, and as the Romans and the architects 
 of the Middle Ages attempted to do. 
 
 I have said that the Greeks were the first who established certain 
 
THE DOEIC AND IONIC OEDEES. 
 
 79 
 
 laws of proportions which we call orders ; we should not conclude 
 from this that these orders were absolute in all their members and 
 relations. They were not such as to interfere with the necessary 
 liberty of the artist, and though they might establish certain fixed 
 relations between the different parts of the Doric order at the same 
 epoch, great freedom and infinite variety were allowed in their ap- 
 plication ; yet the Doric order remains always the Doric order, as a 
 man is always a man, though one is robust and another delicate : this 
 example of the order may be short and stout, and that may be light 
 and slender. This variety does not destroy the relative harmony or 
 the relative proportions in either case. The Greeks never, either in 
 their statuary or their architecture, put the head and torso of a 
 Hercules on the legs of a Bacchus, or a heavy and robust entabla- 
 ture on slender and widely spaced columns. The study of the 
 mutual relations which ought to exist in an order was applied even 
 to the smallest details ; it embraced not only the columns, capitals, 
 entablatures, intercolumniations, the solids and voids of the colon- 
 nade, but the mouldings, their size, profiles and projections, and (so 
 far as we can judge) their color. 
 
 The Greeks nearly always confined themselves to two orders, the N 
 Doric and Ionic. If we compare these two orders, we shall readily 
 discover that each possesses a proper harmony of its own, although 
 both are derived from the same principle. The structure is the same, 
 the manner alone differs. If the Doric order is grave and simple in 
 its general composition, this expression extends to the least details, 
 and the effect is obtained by the outlines, the shadows, the play of 
 light and shade on broad surfaces, and by the character of the mould- 
 ings, as we have already seen. The characteristic of the Ionic order, 
 as distinguished from the gravity and simplicity of the Doric, is ele- 
 gance ; a quality pervading not only the general proportions, but all 
 the details, and expressed by more delicate and more frequent sub- 
 sidiary features and ornamentation. The Doric seems made for use 
 in large monuments, which from their position are destined to be 
 seen from a distance ; the Ionic appears appropriate for closer in- 
 spection, to occupy the eye by refinement of details. We might 
 almost say that the Doric is male, and the Ionic female ; yet both J 
 adhere to the general principles which the Greek architect deemed 
 applicable to the structure of the orders. If, in the Ionic, the shafts 
 are more slender than in the Doric, they are covered by more minier- 
 
80 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 oils Ratings, and their capitals, decorated with sculpture, are more 
 important. The members of the entablature are more divided, and 
 the shafts rest upon circular bases ; for the artist instinctively felt 
 that, in adorning his capital, and in treating his shaft with greater 
 delicacy, the shaft should not rise abruptly from the stylobate, but 
 should be introduced by a feature of transition between the hori- 
 zontal base and the perpendicular support. But both orders, as we 
 have remarked, are subject to the same general laws; the antœ or 
 pilasters, for instance, never have the same capital as the columns in 
 Greek architecture, for the artist had too much sense to place on a 
 flat pilaster or on the end of a wall (antri) a feature which he had 
 found appropriate to crown a column or shaft of circular section. 
 So closely are the two orders assimilated in structure, that certain 
 secondary features expressive of construction — the triglyphs, for in- 
 stance — were not abandoned in the Ionic till a comparatively late 
 period. 
 
 We have observed that the adoption of the orders never interfered 
 with the independence of the Greek in designing. He never 
 wearied in his search for absolute perfection. The play of light and 
 shade upon his masses and details, the picturesqueness of his out- 
 lines against the sky, all his effects in short, as we have seen, were 
 studied with fastidious care. He was endowed with perceptions far 
 too delicate to permit him to submit to any blind, inflexible law. 
 If he admitted formal symmetry, it was rather as a poise or balance 
 than a geometrical rule. The remains of Greek monuments, the 
 precious descriptions of Pausanias, make it evident that the Greeks 
 never endeavored, as we do, to obtain a grand general effect by sub- 
 mitting all the edifices of a public place to the same order, without 
 regard to the destination of each one. They had their laws, like 
 nature ; but, like her, they obeyed these laws with a result of 
 infinite variety. A Greek architect, called upon to admire the 
 symmetrical beauty of our great modern architectural conceptions, 
 our vast façades, uniform without regard to differences of position 
 and destination, in the parts of which they are composed, would be 
 apt to say to us, in pity : — ^ 
 
 “ Since you think that beauty consists in great part in symmetry, 
 why do you not, try to have the sun rise and set at the same moment, 
 so that your edifices may always be lighted on two sides at once ? 
 In nature everything proceeds by contrasts ; we know good by its 
 
MODERN SYMMETRY. 
 
 81 
 
 opposition to evil, we know that light cannot exist without shade, 
 that a thing is large or small only relatively, that no two beings of 
 the same species are identically similar ; and yet you expect to attain 
 the beautiful and the good by changing the natural order of things, 
 by substituting uniformity for variety. Here, for example, is a 
 public place surrounded by buildings: this, you tell me, is a tribu- 
 nal of justice, that the palace of a minister, another contains public 
 offices, a fourth is a barrack, a fifth is designed for a public treasury, 
 and a sixth for a great hall ; but if you do not inscribe upon the 
 doors of these several establishments their respective characters and 
 destinations, how am I to distinguish them? This side of your 
 square is exposed to the sun all day long, and that remains in shade ; 
 yet I perceive porticos of a similar character on both sides. The 
 windows for the offices of your clerks are the same as those for your 
 great hall. I see the same decoration sculptured on the friezes of 
 all these buildings, they are crowned by the same emblems {aero- 
 teria ) ; yet you, who do these things so unreasonably, and say that 
 it is to satisfy rules of art, pretend that you are inspired by our 
 customs ! It is evident you have never visited Attica, the Pelopon- 
 nesus, or our colonies. Because you have used a form of our orders 
 at hazard, and without apparent motive, and have in a manner 
 adopted our capitals and entablatures, this does not prove that you 
 are inspired by our art ; for architecture does not consist in repeating 
 on a façade fragments which you have stolen or badly copied from 
 us. I know not what kind of a people you are, but it is evident 
 that you are neither Greeks nor Romans. Our architects had laws 
 also, but they had them to interpret, not to submit to, like a flock 
 of sheep crowding along the same path under the guidance of the 
 shepherd’s crook. Their first thought, when the construction of a 
 monument was confided to them, was exactly to fulfil all the con- 
 ditions of the programme before them ; they desired so to treat this 
 design, both as regards general disposition and subordinate sculp- 
 ture, that all should know from these the destination of the struc- 
 ture ; they so selected or availed themselves of the peculiarities of 
 its site, that in all its aspects it should be fitted for its destination ; 
 they would not have decorated a building for the accommodation of 
 clerks like the palace of a chief magistrate or a ball-room. Loving 
 their work, studying it under all its aspects, returning to it again 
 and again, designing and redesigning, fastidiously correcting all its 
 6 
 
82 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 details, they aimed to leave no part, however minute, unfinished or 
 imperfect ; they arose from their task with regret, fearing to have 
 forgotten some detail, to have neglected some secret corner, to have 
 left some point open to criticism. They would never conceal plaster 
 or cheap wooden partitions behind magnificent façades. Do not 
 say, then, that you are following in our footsteps ; though you have 
 stolen from us a few tattered remnants and decked yourselves with 
 them, like savages who think to command respect by throwing over 
 their shoulders a rag of royal purple, you do not understand our 
 spirit or the language of our art. Indeed, those who preceded you 
 in this very city a few centuries ago, and whom you stigmatize as 
 barbarians resemble us much more closely than you yourselves. 
 Though they spoke another language, and worked under other in- 
 spirations and with different motives, I can comprehend them and 
 can see that they reasoned, that they felt, and knew how to express 
 what they wished to say. I understand that you boast of having 
 Greek artists in your schools. Is this sarcasm ; and do you be- 
 lieve that you are rendering a wise homage to us, by taking our 
 garments which were not made for you, and which you know not 
 how to wear, while rejecting or misunderstanding our intelligence 
 and our spirit ? ” 
 
 An ancient Greek, transported to-day to Paris or London, might 
 utter language like this, and he would have cause for much more 
 indignant criticism, which perhaps I could not prudently repeat. 
 
 Now that we comprehend how the Greek mind applied perfect art 
 to their works, we perhaps can better appreciate the spirit of the 
 Romans. 
 
 The Roman people had numerous armies, and a population of 
 slaves at least double that of freemen or citizens : these were avail- 
 able for their works of public utility ; these constituted their material 
 power. Prom their conquests and their manner of administering 
 these conquests, immense riches poured into the public treasury. 
 With their material resources they built structures, and with their 
 riches they paid for artists and precious materials. Hence the con- 
 struction and the decoration of their monuments were, as we have 
 said, two distinct operations. Their methods of construction and 
 of decoration were the practical results of their social condition. 
 Armies and innumerable troops of slaves were at their disposal in 
 every part of Europe, and, without any special instruction, were 
 
THE BOM AN METHOD OF BUILDING. 
 
 83 
 
 available for all the preparatory labors of building; they could cut 
 stones, they could cart sand, they could make mortar and bricks. 
 With these elements of labor at hand, the most convenient method 
 of constructing great monuments was not certainly, save in some ex- 
 ceptional cases, to use materials of great dimensions, requiring skilful 
 craftsmen to quarry and cut them, complicated engines to transport 
 and lay them, — a slow and cautious process of building. But by the 
 aid of the numerous, and for the most part unintelligent laborers at 
 their command, the Romans provided enormous quantities of small 
 material, moulded the bricks, slacked the lime on the spot, and carted 
 the sand ; then the architects designated the points of support, and 
 the position and character of the walls to be reared ; hundreds of 
 workmen under military supervision and strict mechanical superin- 
 tendence proceeded to mix the mortar and bring to the site, in their 
 arms, rubble-stone, gravel, and bricks, and, while selected workmen 
 laid up the rough faces of the walls, the masses behind were tilled 
 with compact concrete. When they had thus reared the walls to the 
 desired height, the science of the architect again intervened to pre- 
 pare and lay in place temporary centres or forms of wood from the 
 abundant forests of Gaul or Germany, on which the masons and labor- 
 ers moulded the arches and vaults of the structure with their brick, 
 their rubble, and their mortar or concrete. Thus a skilful superin- 
 tendent, a few carpenters and masons, and hundreds of strong and 
 disciplined arms, could elevate the greatest monument in a few months. 
 Nothing in modern times recalls the Roman method, but our great 
 railway works of engineering. Their best constructions of art were 
 reared by employing, in the same manner, a few intelligent workmen, 
 and innumerable laborers, working blindly and mechanically under 
 regular and severe surveillance, and according to certain formulas 
 established by experience. In support of what I have said, and in 
 proof of the indifference of the Romans for the decoration of their 
 edifices, innumerable monuments of public utility might here be 
 mentioned, which they suffered to remain in the rough state, with- 
 out feeling any desire through the lapse of centuries to cover them 
 with their envelope of art. The Porta Majora, an arch of triumph, 
 a purely monumental conception erected by Tiberius Claudius, son 
 of Drusus, to celebrate the introduction of water by the Claud ian 
 Aqueduct into Rome, never had its rough walls plastered, even with 
 roughcast of gravel and mortar, though it was subsequently restored, 
 
84 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 together with the aqueduct, by Vespasian and his son Titus. The 
 founders as well as the restorers of this magnificent work took 
 care to record their munificence by inscriptions, but did not think 
 it necessary to give it the finishing touch. But a Greek, before 
 causing his name to be engraved on a structure erected at his 
 expense, would make sure that it was completed, and worthy to 
 transmit to posterity the memory of his good taste and love of art. 
 Even in the Coliseum there are portions where the roughcast is 
 but begun. But negligences of this kind are more frequent in the 
 provinces than in the capital. At Provence, the amphitheatre of 
 Nismes is but incompletely roughcast, and the great aqueduct, 
 called the Pont du Gard, has only received this finish in a few 
 places. We can find similar evidence of indifference for the forms 
 of art in all the provinces of the Empire. That which especially 
 occupied the thoughts of the Romans, with regard to their architec- 
 ture, was the plan, that is to say, the exact accommodation of the 
 various services to which their buildings were to be devoted respec- 
 tively, the relative dimensions of the apartments, and more especially 
 were they distinguished from us, who pretend to draw inspiration 
 from their works, by careful selection and arrangement of site, by 
 judicious regard for the natural levels of the soil, and by economy. 
 The Roman, it must be understood, was not parsimonious ; but he 
 was economical, that is to say, he strove to avoid waste, both of 
 land and of material. He did not comprehend that artistic feeling 
 which prompted the Greek and the mediaeval builders to work for 
 their own honor ; but, according to his understanding, the sculptor 
 he employed labored for the public good, and to celebrate the mu- 
 nificence of the Roman benefactor. He did not call the artist to his 
 aid till the material purpose of the monument was attained, and then 
 merely as a dresser of the work ; and with reference to these finish- 
 ing processes, his concern was not for delicacy or refinement of 
 detail, but rather that his monument should be covered with precious 
 marbles, rich in color ; and, with the taste of a parvenu , he esteemed 
 these marbles in proportion to their rarity and difficulty of working. 
 
 But with the Greeks every workman was an artist. Ho not 
 expect from them constructions in which man is but a machine. 
 There was hardly a cubic yard of mortar or concrete in their build- 
 ings ; the foundations were hastily laid up of dry stones, and they 
 avoided this mere mechanical and concealed work as much as they 
 
MISUSE OP GEEEIv FORMS BY TI1E ROMANS. 
 
 85 
 
 could by elevating their monuments on the living rock in which 
 their territory abounded ; but, on the other hand, they endeavored 
 that no part of the structure above the level of the ground should be 
 concealed ; for the stone-cutter had his sentiment of vanity as well as 
 the sculptor. He wished that his stone should have at least one face 
 apparent. If the Greek did not employ vaults, it was not because 
 he did not know them (a fact not easily proved), but because this 
 method of construction required strong abutments, inert masses of 
 pier and wall, and they shrank from the vast amount of merely 
 mechanical labor, whose results must necessarily be concealed in 
 such construction. Whatever were the advantages of vaulted con- 
 struction, these advantages, in the eyes of the Greeks, did not com- 
 pensate for the humiliation implied in the laborious heaping up 
 of masses. Besides, if the nature of their country was such as to do 
 away with the necessity of building foundations, it was prodigal of 
 the most admirable materials ; or, if they did not have marbles, as 
 in Magna Græcia and Sicily, they covered the stone they employed 
 with a fine stucco, applied with inimitable care and skill ; and this 
 stucco they colored in such a manner as to adorn and confess the 
 construction, for, like true artists, they respected the labor of their 
 hands, and would conceal from no eyes the details of their work. 
 
 When the Roman had completed liis construction in the manner 
 indicated, and the material and practical part of the programme had 
 been thus fulfilled, if he had capable artists at his disposal, or if he 
 could procure marbles, without regard to cost and even from the 
 most distant countries, he would cover his rough walls with a thin 
 veneering of the precious material, he would decorate it with mould- 
 ings, he would closely embrace them with the columns and entabla- 
 tures which he tried to copy from the Greeks, and like them, but 
 without their honesty in confessing construction, would cover his 
 vaulted ceilings with stucco moulded, painted, and gilded. But, 
 comparatively, the Greek monuments were small and the Roman 
 monuments were vast and lofty. The Roman therefore found himself, 
 he thought, obliged to superimpose the Greek orders. But his mis- 
 understanding of the Greek spirit appeared more distinctly in the 
 fact that, while the Greek orders were simply the artistic treatment 
 of a construction of posts and lintels, the Roman admitted little else 
 than the arch and .vault in his public edifices; and yet, against the 
 faces of the piers which supported his arches, lie would apply col- 
 
8G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 umns bearing entablatures over the arches themselves ; that is, he 
 would use the Greek construction simply as a frame to decorate his 
 own. This singular blunder is the best illustration of how entirely 
 the Roman separated construction from decoration, regarding the 
 latter only as a luxury, a garment of whose proper usage or origin he 
 cared very little. 
 
 It is in this complete misapplication of the Greek orders that the 
 example of the Romans should be avoided ; and yet, so entirely are 
 the most reasonable, obvious, and sensible principles, principles true 
 and immutable for all times and places, forgotten by those who should 
 proclaim and practise them as axioms, that this self-evident error has 
 been repeated and perpetuated ever since the revival of Roman archi- 
 tecture in the fifteenth century. To place a lintel above an arch is 
 certainly most unreasonable ; for the arch, being itself a means of 
 discharging superincumbent weight, should be above the lintel which 
 can hardly sustain its own. It is a rule for all time that the fragile 
 thing should be protected by the strong thing, and not the reverse. 
 Everybody has observed how peasants, when on their way to market, 
 carry their shoes in their hands and do not put them on till they 
 enter the city. What would be said of him who should infer from 
 this that shoes were made to be carried in the hand when walking, 
 and to be put on when sitting down P Which of you would adopt 
 this usage and stigmatize as barbarians those who walk with their 
 feet shod? The foot may be admirable in form and the shoe a mas- 
 terpiece, yet it is no less true that shoes were made to be worn on the 
 feet, and not to be carried in the hand. It is not sufficient to admire 
 and cherish the works of antiquity, but to see that they are properly 
 used. Now, a Greek of the time of Pericles would be shocked to see 
 a lintel on columns engaged or built into the wall and surmounting 
 an arch. He would not fail to ask whether the lintel so used had 
 not proved too weak for its work, and whether, as an afterthought, 
 the arch had not been placed beneath it and between the columns to 
 support and strengthen it. But we believe the Greek would shrug 
 his shoulders when told that this construction was originally con- 
 ceived so and is an architectural combination. It may be said, as 
 we are not Greeks, we have no right to testify our disapprobation 
 when such blunders are committed before our eyes ; but we have a 
 right to use our minds, and, in inheriting Roman architecture, it is 
 our privilege and duty to reject that part which is bad and to retain 
 
ROMAN ART. 
 
 87 
 
 that which is good ; to distinguish its construction, which is excel- 
 lent, from its borrowed envelope ; to recognize the qualities which 
 are peculiar to Roman and to Greek art, and not to confound them 
 in the same indiscriminate and vulgar admiration ; to separate them 
 as being each the expression of different and even hostile principles ; 
 to see, in short, in the first, at once the largest and most delicate 
 expression of the finest instincts of humanity, in the second, a blind 
 submission to the material wants and the administrative organization 
 of a powerful political state. 
 
 The original Greek architecture presents itself to us in but a feiv 
 scattered religious monuments almost totally ruined ; its rare and 
 precious remains often elude the search of the critic ; in our admira- 
 tion for these shattered remnants of a marvellous art, we must eagerly 
 seek for those fruitful and too long forgotten principles of truth 
 which lie in them. But Roman architecture, on the other hand, is 
 omnipresent in the antique world, and appears in structures of 
 every kind from the public road and the aqueduct to the triumphal 
 arch and the votive column. The history of the Roman people from 
 the end of the republic is well known to us, certainly better known 
 than our own ; we are familiar with their laws and customs ; it is not 
 therefore a difficult task to trace, through this great history, the 
 progress of their arts ; for these, as well as their religion, were but 
 the instruments of an invariable policy. “ It was neither fear nor 
 piety which established religion among the Romans,” said Mon- 
 tesquieu,*' “ but the necessity, common among all peoples, of having 
 a religion.” And further on he says, “ I find this difference between 
 Roman legislators and those of other nations, — the former made 
 religion for the state, the latter made the state for religion.” The 
 same passage may be applied to the arts, which the Romans used, 
 because they were a mark of civilization ; art with them was an 
 affair of fashion and expediency, not a conviction as among the 
 Egyptians and the Greeks. And here it is worthy of remark, 
 that when the Romans built a temple, that is to say, a sanctuary 
 for divinity, they borrowed the order and general plan from the 
 Greeks. They had no temples of their own, like the Egyptians or 
 Greeks. The official religion of Rome was a Greek importation. 
 In mythology, the two nations had the same ideas, the deification of 
 natural forces, pantheism ; but the forms of their myths differed 
 
 * “ Dissertation sur la Politique des Romains dans la Religion.” 
 
88 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 essentially. Thus, the god Sterquilinius (of the dunghill), the pro- 
 ductive force among the Romans, corresponded to the god Eros 
 (Cupid) among the Greeks. But with regard to civil structures the 
 Roman legislator intervened ; he commanded, he knew exactly what 
 Avas wanted ; if he had recourse to the stranger, it was but to borrow 
 from him a covering for his monuments, and even this covering he 
 adapted and modified according to his fashion. He would not suffer 
 his artists to embarrass him with their principles. He did not untie, 
 he cut, the Gordian knot. He treated art as Claudius Pulcher, when 
 about to begin a naval battle, treated the superstitious ideas of his 
 soldiers: the sacred birds, when consulted, would not eat; this was 
 a bad augury. “ Since they will not eat,” said he, “ let them 
 drink ” ; and so he caused them to be thrown into the sea. If to 
 the artist of strong convictions art is a religion, a living, ardent 
 belief, to others it is but a troublesome prejudice. A corps of archi- 
 tects, sculptors, and painters, governed by their own convictions, 
 must be a continual embarrassment in a state without convictions 
 in regard to art. Politicians, legislators, administrators, as the 
 Romans essentially were, they could not endure such obstacles in 
 the way of the development of their institutions. Their artists were 
 slaves or freedmen, or, at most, citizens kept in a state of systematic 
 obscurity. They would make a prefect of a flute-player much sooner 
 than of an architect or sculptor. • It was indifferent to the Romans 
 what order or cornice or moulding the architect chose to apply to 
 his building ; but the moment he undertook to reason, to establish 
 certain principles by virtue of which he came in contact with the 
 will of the magistrate, the moment, for example, he refused to give 
 three stories to a building whose proportions he believed better 
 adapted to two, whatever authority he might invoke, whatever good 
 reasons he might urge, the magistrate would at once direct him to 
 obey, and not to amuse himself by discussing the principles of his 
 art with him, a Roman, who admitted no other reasons or authorities 
 than those of state. The ideas of the Romans concerning art may 
 be illustrated by the well-known story of Lucius Muimnius, the con- 
 queror of the Achæans, who, while engaged in transporting from 
 Greece to Rome the rich spoils of his conquest, stipulated that who- 
 ever should be negligent or culpable enough to injure in transpor- 
 tation a certain picture by Zeuxis, must supply its place with 
 another. 
 
ROMAN TOLERATION. 
 
 89 
 
 We have no exact information regarding the manner in which the 
 Roman magistrates treated artists, or how much independence was 
 allowed them ; but we have means of direct inference : we are famil- 
 iar with the opinions manifested by these magistrates concerning cer- 
 tain religious sects, which, in professing inflexible doctrines in the 
 midst of Roman society, were precisely in the situation of artists 
 with strong convictions. No government was more tolerant than 
 that of Rome ; it permitted all religions, provided they were them- 
 selves tolerant ; it proscribed indiscriminately only the Egyptian, the 
 Jewish, and the Christian religions, because these were regarded as 
 intolerant, as forming exclusive priestly sects, independent of civil 
 authority, distinguishing between the spiritual and temporal, and 
 therefore dangerous to the state. The Romans persecuted the wor- 
 ship of Bacchus, for examplfc, not as a religious rite or belief, but as 
 an offence against civil order ; as in modern times the state allows 
 liberty of worship to all, but permits no one to exercise this liberty 
 to the prejudice of law and the public peace. At Rome the priest 
 and the augur were magistrates. “ In our city,” said Cicero, “ the 
 kings and the magistrates, who succeeded the kings, have always had 
 a double function, and have governed the state under the auspices of 
 religion.” * Now, if the Roman government professed such doc- 
 trines of tolerance and intolerance with respect to religions, there is 
 strong reason to believe that it had similar doctrines concerning art, 
 which, in Roman eyes, was of much less consequence. 
 
 This is no place to discuss whether the Romans were right or 
 wrong in this matter, whether art was developed, or gradually fell 
 into indifference and contempt under the oppression of the magis- 
 trate ; Ave seek rather to show how the profound distinctions between 
 Greek and Roman art arose from natural causes. Our task is not to 
 review the political history of nations ; but to indicate up to what 
 point the fine arts, and architecture in particular, reflect the man- 
 ners and institutions of the people among whom they have been 
 developed. 
 
 Now, as regards religion, the Greeks Avere less tolerant than the 
 Romans ; witness the death of Socrates, the persecution of Alcibiades 
 for having outraged the rites of Mercury at Athens, and especially 
 the Peloponnesians, who, because of a religious festival they had to 
 
 * “ De Divinatione, ” Lib. I. ch. xl. See “ Dissertation sur la Politique des Romains dans la 
 Religion ” ; Montesquieu. 
 
90 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 celebrate, did not join the army of the Greeks till the day after the 
 battle of Marathon. Their civil institutions, as we have remarked, 
 very far from having the force or sagacity of those of the Romans, 
 were turbulent and insecure, yet marvellously adapted to the growth 
 of art. 
 
 It would be sad indeed if we were compelled to deduce a strictly 
 logical conclusion from these facts, implying, as they do, that the 
 more wisely, firmly, and consistently a people is governed, the less 
 chance there is of art living a natural life and leaving perfect works. 
 We hardly think this argument was ever used in the presence of 
 Louis XIV., who, when he undertook to cover France with Roman 
 monuments, simply expressed the natural sentiments of an absolute 
 monarch, the chief of a national unity ; for Roman architecture was 
 the only system which could be adapted to his political system, and 
 it would not have been well for any one to maintain before him that 
 if society would have arts, artists must be allowed a certain liberty. 
 We must admit that in all that concerns humanity, its sentiments 
 and relations, its convictions and tastes, conclusions deduced from 
 an absolute logic are rarely just. Some allowance must be made 
 for the infinite variations of the instinct of man, the contradictions 
 of which he is composed, his traditions, prejudices, and tempera- 
 ment. Yet, notwithstanding these, notwithstanding revolutions and 
 conflicting religions, there are certain great natural laws which must 
 remain immutable through all time and among all nations. Thus, 
 in the development of the arts, the two opposing principles which, 
 as we have pointed out, had their origin respectively in Greece and 
 in Rome, must always remain true ; and we shall presently see how 
 they influenced the architecture of subsequent ages. Is it not there- 
 fore puerile, in the face of these great facts, and with the example of 
 history before us, to occupy our time in disputing the pre-eminence 
 of this or that school, excluding all styles or forms of art but our 
 own, when our real concern is not with styles or schools, but with 
 the everlasting principles of truth, and how to apply them to our 
 own practice ? 
 
 It cannot be too often repeated that that art only is true and good 
 which is in harmony with the manners, institutions, and genius of 
 the nation wherein it exists ; and as nations differ from each other 
 in these respects, the forms of their art must differ in a correspond- 
 ing degree. If, in the course of time, it seems to go back to the 
 
THE GENIUS OF NATIONS. 
 
 91 
 
 point from which it started, this is a phenomenon analogous to that 
 exhibited when national characteristics repeat themselves. If, as in 
 the present day, it has become unsettled and wandering, and looks 
 this way and that for precedent and authority as a means of getting 
 back to the true path of development, let us not cry out, “ This, 
 which I follow, is the only true path ” ; let us rather remain content 
 with illustrating our own convictions and beliefs as well as we can 
 in our works; let us aid, and, if need be, modify these convictions by 
 diligent study and by serious and candid analysis; but do not push 
 blindly to the right or the left, and maintain that this or that is the 
 only way back to the right road. Study, and the love of art, not 
 of a form of art, and conscientious search for true principles, are 
 the only resources of intelligent minds when art is lost or gone 
 astray. 
 
 We have spoken of the genius of nations in relation to art. Let 
 us avoid vague words, which may lead to equivocations ; let us un- 
 derstand ourselves at every step. What is this genius of nations ? 
 There are three elements which constitute national character : the 
 element which we call national genius, the manners adopted by the 
 nation, and the institutions which it imposes upon itself or which 
 are imposed upon it. The two nations of antiquity which are best 
 known to us, the Greeks and Romans, so different from each other, 
 had each its peculiar genius in perfect harmony with its manners 
 and institutions. But, since the establishment of Christianity, this 
 harmony has not existed. The frightful disorders occasioned by the 
 barbarian invasions in Europe have left deep traces, perceptible 
 even in our own days, and destined to remain for a long time to 
 come. Hence, in the Middle Ages and in modern times, the mon- 
 strous contradictions between the inherent genius of populations, 
 their manners and customs, and their dominant institutions. Hence 
 the frequent scenes of violence when the incongruous institutions 
 imposed upon a nation stifle the inspirations of its natural genius. 
 This genius is simply its characteristic way of expressing its intel- 
 lectual and physical wants. The genius of the Greeks consisted in 
 their tendency to demonstrate their ideas, and clothe them in reason- 
 able form ; that of the Romans, in submitting their ideas to public 
 policy, that is, government. The former elevated their genius above 
 their institutions ; the latter placed their institutions above their 
 genius. The truest expression of Roman genius is the exclamation 
 
92 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 of the gladiators in the amphitheatre, pledged to fight till death, 
 Moritari te salutant. Athens had a Socrates ; Rome conld not 
 have one. Socrates was an Athenian at Athens; in his discussions 
 he undermined the public creeds, he was listened to, he was dan- 
 gerous, therefore, and had to suffer death. A Roman in Rome, 
 he would have preached without an audience ; he would not have 
 been considered dangerous there. But the Gracchi, who plotted 
 sedition against the state, were considered dangerous ; and so more 
 especially was Spurius Moelius, who, for distributing corn gratis 
 among the people in time of famine, was killed by Servilius Ahala, 
 because he sought by these means a popularity dangerous to the 
 public welfare. Those who were regarded as dangerous at Rome 
 were not philosophers, but political reformers, opponents of civil 
 law. 
 
 Now, so complete was the harmony between the genius, the 
 manners and customs, and the arts of these two nations of an- 
 tiquity, so perfectly did these arts reflect the respective characters 
 of populations thoroughly homogeneous in their institutions, that 
 nowhere else within our knowledge have they enjoyed such direct 
 and simple conditions of development ; the study of these arts 
 therefore is the only proper elementary study for those who would 
 comprehend architecture and how it is used as a language, a mon- 
 umental record of the genius of nations. We dare to maintain 
 that those among us who have confined their attention to the arts 
 of the Middle Ages or of the Renaissance in the sixteenth century, 
 without having first familiarized themselves with those of pagan 
 antiquity, have obtained no profit. An exclusive application to 
 mediaeval art we cannot but regard as a progress towards barbarism. 
 Yet, at the same time, we regard as narrow and incomplete the 
 artistic education which goes no further than pagan antiquity, and as 
 illogical that which is willing to neglect the intermediate phases in 
 the history of art, and to leap from the age of the Cæsars to that 
 of Francis I., Julius II., Leo X., and Henry II. 
 
 If it is right to consider the arts of the Greeks and Romans as 
 strictly allied to their institutions, and if it is therefore reasonable and 
 profitable, in this point of view, to make them an elementary study, 
 it is a mistake to look for any such intimate alliance between me- 
 diaeval arts and mediaeval institutions ; and a primary or exclusive 
 study of them can therefore lead only to prejudice. In the Middle 
 
THE STUDY OF THE ANCIENT STYLES. 
 
 93 
 
 Ages, as we have already said, there was an endless struggle between 
 the genius of the nations and the institutions which governed them. 
 The arts are one of the most vivid expressions of this struggle. 
 Instead of being serene and simple like those of Greece, or a plain 
 exponent of confident power like those of Rome, they were complex, 
 a conflict of opposing forces, thrusts and counter-thrusts, the whole 
 requiring careful scrutiny and the illumination of intelligent analy- 
 sis and criticism. We are far from saying that this study is super- 
 fluous. Our present social state is complicated, and bristles with 
 controversies ; it is a union of ancient traditions, and of the in- 
 tellectual and physical conditions of modern times ; everything 
 relating to art is indecisive and disputed ; national genius is seeking 
 for a definite expression in the midst of doubts, systems, and revolu- 
 tions ; and national institutions are tending, not to oppress, but, 
 after so many experiences, to harmonize with that genius. In the 
 midst of these things the study of mediaeval art, so far from being 
 superfluous, contributes to develop the spirit, to give it that plia- 
 bility, freedom, and abundance of resource so necessary to place 
 art in its proper position as an expression of national character. 
 
 Our task, then, is before us ; if it is long, it is because the age 
 in which we live inherits the past and cannot be separated from it. 
 We must therefore examine successively the great unity of princi- 
 ples in Roman art proper, then the different elements which de- 
 stroyed that unity ; the influence of Christianity on architecture ; the 
 new order established in the midst of the earliest mediaeval centu- 
 ries, at first in the bosom of the cloisters, then, in the twelfth 
 century, by the civil nation ; the analogies and distinctions existing 
 between this new order and the genius of the populations ; its 
 secret, persistent progress, independent of the arts, in the midst of 
 political systems completely opposed to such progress ; its decline in 
 consequence of this permanent state of strife, the mediaeval arts 
 forming a sort of freemasonry, which, like every isolated organization, 
 became narrow and sterile. • We must follow the great Renaissance 
 movement, its strange contradictions, its efforts to reach a result 
 opposed to its natural tendencies ; and, finally, we must treat of the 
 means by which we, in modern times, can profit by the labor of so 
 many generations before us, and apply to our own needs the princi- 
 ples which guided them. 
 
 In closing this Discourse, we would reply to all those who are 
 
94 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 asking for a style belonging to our time : “ When our time shall be 
 something else besides a composition of pagan, Christian, and me- 
 diaeval traditions ; when we shall have effaced all traces of that 
 long and bloody struggle of the Dark Ages between the genius of 
 the races and the elements introduced by the barbarian conquests, 
 between clergy and royalty contending for absolute dominion, be- 
 tween the people and the feudal system ; when we shall have forgot- 
 ten the Reformation with its enormous accumulation of learning and 
 criticism ; when we shall no longer be the descendants of our fore- 
 fathers ; when we shall have put an end to the scepticism of the age, 
 with its constant undermining of traditions and systems ; when we 
 shall have found for our experiment a place on the soil of old Europe 
 which is not covered by a ruin ; when we shall have a Utopia of 
 homogeneous institutions, of manners and tastes having nothing in 
 common with the past, of sciences which we have not inherited ; 
 when, in fine, we shall have obliterated memory, — then, and not 
 till then, can we have what has never yet been seen, a new style. 
 For if it is difficult for man to learn, it is much more difficult for 
 him to forget.” 
 
« 
 
 FOURTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 ON THE ARCHITECTURE OF THE ROMANS. 
 
 IE general principles of Roman architecture, 
 briefly referred to in preceding Discourses, should 
 be carefully analyzed ; for, however simple a style 
 of architecture may be, it is composed of ele- 
 ments too varied, it results from requirements too 
 different and necessities too imperious, to be ex- 
 plained and understood without a discriminating study of the infinite 
 details which compose its apparent forms. 
 
 I have said that among the Greeks the exterior form of archi- 
 tecture was but the result of an intelligent construction, of the care- 
 ful observation of effects produced by light and shade, and of the 
 sentiment of proportions. Though we now leave the immediate 
 consideration of Greek architecture, we shall have occasion frequently 
 to return to it in the course of these studies, since, for more than 
 twenty centuries, it has been the source to which, by many different 
 paths, all the arts of design have repaired for inspiration and refresh- 
 ment. Let this architecture, known to us unfortunately by a very 
 restricted number of buildings, play for us in modern times the part 
 which belongs to it ; let it be regarded as the most absolute and 
 most perfect type of the principles to which I shall constantly find it 
 necessary to call the attention of my readers. 
 
 We have seen that, among the Greeks, construction and archi- 
 tecture were one and the same thing; there was an intimate alliance 
 between form and structure ; but, with the Romans, construction, 
 and the form with which it was clothed, were distinct and often 
 independent of each other. 
 
96 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 The main constructional difference between the two systems con- 
 sists in the fact that, while the Greek was a composition of vertical 
 and horizontal lines and surfaces, the Roman added to these two 
 elementary principles, the arch and the vault, the curved line and the 
 concave form ; these new elements were employed from the time of 
 the republic, they soon became the dominating principle, and finally 
 quite supplanted the two others. 
 
 But, in the first place, we should consider what the Romany bor- 
 rowed from the Greeks, and how their peculiar genius modified what 
 was thus borrowed. The Romans had no religious architecture of 
 their own ; in constructing their temples they took the general plans 
 and orders of the Greeks. The latter had three orders, each with 
 its peculiar proportions and decorations, — the Doric, Ionic, and 
 Corinthian. Of these, the richest, most elegant, and probably most 
 recent was the Corinthian. But, down to the time of Pericles, the 
 Greek architects seemed to give a marked preference to the Doric 
 and Ionic ; in their great temples they generally adopted the Doric. 
 The Corinthian, of which we have but very few examples before the 
 epoch of the Roman Empire, appears, among the Greeks, to have 
 been applied only to monuments of small dimensions, as, for example, 
 the little circular votive structure at Athens, known as the Choragic 
 Monument of Lgsicrates. But the Romans, towards the end of the 
 republic, preferred to use this order in their great temples. The 
 future masters of the world were like all parvenues : they considered 
 the true expression of art to reside less in purity of form than in os- 
 tentation. The Roman had little feeling for such refinements of detail 
 as we have discovered in the Greek Doric capital ; he preferred, to 
 the carefully studied sweetness and purity of the Greek lines, abun- 
 dance of sculpture ; he was rich, and he desired to appear so. 
 The Corinthian order became soon the only one applied by the 
 Romans to their religious edifices, as the most majestic, because 
 the most elaborate. But as the small size of most of the Greek 
 temples was hardly consistent with the genius of the Romans, who, 
 from the earliest times of the empire, were prone to cover their cities 
 with immense edifices, they exaggerated the dimensions of the Greek 
 Corinthian order; and this, like the other orders, they soon imbued 
 with their peculiar spirit as constructors. With regard to the col- 
 umns, for instance, the Greek clearly understood that by their func- 
 tion they indicated monoliths ; but, as his mechanical means were 
 
THE BATHS OF ANTONINUS CARACALLA. 
 
 PLAN. 
 

 
 
 
ROMAN MODIFICATION OF GREEK ORDERS. 
 
 97 
 
 insufficient to quarry, transport, and raise large masses of stone, lie 
 supplied the deficiency by the extreme care and delicacy with which 
 he superimposed the series of stone or marble drums by means of 
 which he formed and built up his columns ; and often, as we have 
 already observed, when his material was too coarse to produce the 
 effect of a monolith by this process, he obtained the desired result 
 by the application of a fine colored stucco over the whole. But the 
 Romans cut their columns out of single blocks of marble or granite. 
 In increasing the dimensions of the Corinthian column, whose shaft 
 was proportionally more slender than that of the Doric order, good 
 construction constrained them to avoid building it up in courses 
 according to the Greek manner. The Greek Doric column had no 
 base, while the Ionic and Corinthian had bases composed of one or 
 more circular bands ( tori ) resting directly on the pavement, but with- 
 out the interposition of square plinths, as it never occurred to the 
 Greeks to use a feature whose salient and sharp angles would inter- 
 fere with the passage of their porticos. But the great monolithic 
 columns of Rome suggested the use of a projecting socket to give 
 them a firm footing ; hence the base, of one . or more tori with a 
 square plinth, applied indiscriminately, by the Romans, to all their 
 orders. The Roman considered the Greek Doric order too cold and 
 simple for an atmosphere less transparent than Attica or Sicily ; so he 
 cut a moulding on the abacus, and substituted for the delicately cut 
 horizontal lines in the neck of the Greek capital a ring of bold 
 projection {astragal) encircling the shaft under the capital. The 
 echinus of the Greek capital, that moulding on whose refinement of 
 conception and execution we have already dwelt, whose outline can 
 be defined by no geometrical process, was expressed by the Roman 
 with a moulding struck with a quarter-circle. Ilis architects had no 
 time to waste in studying purity of contour, nor his stone-cutters, to 
 devote to such unprofitable refinements ; it was much more con- 
 venient and easy to trace a quarter of a circle with the compass than 
 to seek and adapt an indescribable curve which was not even a conic 
 section. We have seen that in the Greek Doric order a triglyph was 
 always placed on the corner, irrespective of any fixed relation to the 
 axis of the column beneath, and that the adjacent intercolumniations 
 were diminished. But the Roman desired absolute symmetry, which 
 was his law. Making his intercolumniations therefore mathemati- 
 cally equal, without regard to constructional refinements, the triglyphs 
 
08 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 were invariably placed over the axes of the columns and inter- 
 cohunniations, thus leaving a half-metope on the corner, that is to 
 say, the expression of a void where that of the greatest solidity Avas 
 required. This Avas unreasonable, but the laws of symmetry Avere 
 observed, and these laws the Roman Avas apt to accept for artistic 
 sentiment. The Greek accepted no laavs save those of reason ; but as 
 reason delays, discusses, argues, cannot be classified or subdued to a 
 system, it did not here commend itself to the Roman legislator. In 
 proclaiming symmetry to be one of the first laAVS of art, he spared 
 himself great embarrassments and uncertainties, for this is a laAV 
 which everybody can understand and apply. But it is important to 
 observe that the Roman, who thus applied this laAv to the forms of 
 his art, that is, to the envelope of Ins monuments, would boldly 
 and intelligently free himself from its restraint Avhen it interfered 
 Avith the satisfaction of a material need, as in the practical arrange- 
 ments and details of his Avorks of public utility. This is a salient 
 point in the character of Roman architecture, and Ave propose to 
 draAv the particular attention of our readers to it. 
 
 In speaking thus of the Greek orders as imported and modified by 
 the Romans, not to gratify a cultivated taste, but to serve the pur- 
 poses of a Avealthy ostentation, 1 do not pretend to pass these orders 
 and their proportions, more or less absolute, in revieAV, nor to repeat 
 here Avhat has been said about them a hundred times, and what can 
 be found in every library. But there remains to us a single Avriter 
 of the age of Augustus, treating of architecture, — Vitruvius. As he 
 is the only one, he cannot fail to be the best ; yet he is not neces- 
 sarily infallible or complete. I am not familiar enough Avith the 
 language of the Augustan age to knoAv xvhether the Avriters of the 
 Renaissance have meddled with the text of Vitruvius, or AAdiether 
 they have been able to complete it, Avhere deficient, in the same spirit. 
 As an architect, if not as a Latinist, I am tempted to believe that 
 they have interfered Avith it in certain parts. Thus, the theories 
 regarding the proportions of the orders, as laid cloAvn in his treatise, 
 seem to me to be flatly contradicted by the testimony of contempo- 
 rary architecture. Noav, Vitruvius sometimes gives to the Greek 
 orders fantastic and strange origins, Avhich lead us to infer that, for 
 him at' least, the real reasons Avhich guided the Greek architects 
 were a sealed book. But there is an interesting passage in his 
 chapter concerning the Greek Doric order, Avhich certainly Avas not 
 
VITRUVIUS, ON THE GREEK DORIC ORDER, 
 
 99 
 
 arranged by the Latinists of the Renaissance, for they did not know 
 the Greek orders, or knew them too incompletely to have done so. 
 The interest of this passage consists in its indicating that a Roman 
 architect of the time of Augustus imputed to certain dispositions 
 adopted by the Greek, and of which we have already spoken, a 
 reason which is entirely Roman, and not at all Greek ; and that 
 already the laws of symmetry had become imperious. 
 
 This passage runs as follows : — * 
 
 “ Many ancient architects have denied that the Doric order is 
 appropriate for temples, because it presents inconveniences and em- 
 barrassments as regards symmetry. Tarcheus and Pythæus have 
 denied it, as well as Ilermogenes ; for the latter, having at his dis- 
 position a great quantity of marbles to build a temple to Bacchus 
 in the Doric order, changed his project and made it Ionic. This is 
 not because the aspect of this order is not beautiful, or because it is 
 wanting in majesty, but because the arrangement of the triglvphs 
 and of the intervals between them is perplexing in execution. Tor 
 it is necessary that the triglyphs should be placed over the centres of 
 the columns, and that the metopes between them should be as wide 
 as they are high : now, the corner triglyph cannot be over the centre 
 of the corner column, but must be outside of the centre ; and the 
 metopes adjacent to the corner triglyph cannot therefore be square, 
 but oblong, and must have the width of half a triglyph added to 
 their own. Those who would obtain on the whole length of the 
 frieze metopes of equal width must necessarily diminish the last 
 intercolumniation at the angle by the width of half a triglyph. But 
 the arrangement is equally defective, whether we diminish the last 
 intercolumniation or enlarge the metope. It was in consideration 
 of this difficulty regarding symmetry that the ancients avoided the 
 use of the Doric order in their sacred edifices.” 
 
 Now, I think the true motive of the Greeks in preferring, in cer- 
 tain cases, to use the Ionic instead of the Doric order, was not that 
 indicated by Vitruvius, but to gratify the incessant desire of that 
 people for new combinations to meet new conditions, the desire to 
 free themselves from the trammels of routine, to introduce progress 
 in all things ; the desire, in short, for something better, which soon 
 tempted them on to affectation and finally to decline. He seems 
 to me to deceive himself in imputing to the Greeks such bad taste 
 
 * “De Ratione Dorica,” Lib. IV. cap. iii. 
 
100 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 as to sacrifice a general disposition to an unimportant detail by 
 decreasing the corner intercolumniations in order to obtain equal 
 metopes. If we study their architecture, we shall find that they 
 acted from a very different class of motives. 13ut, however it mny 
 be, this passage betrays one phase of the spirit which actuated the 
 Roman architect : he loved the universal application of formulas even 
 to matters dependent only on reason and artistic feeling. But up to 
 the time of Augustus, and long after, the Romans were accustomed 
 to employ Greek architects in the decoration of their buildings, and 
 these architects, when free, were apt to dispose of formulas in a very 
 summary manner, whenever such formulas were opposed to reason 
 and instinct. It may be added that even the purely Roman 
 orders, in their characteristic distinctions of detail, followed rather 
 the spirit than the letter of Vitruvius ; and further, that their relative 
 proportions admitted certain modifications according to the nature 
 of the materials used in each case, according to the manner in 
 which they were used, the dimensions of the buildings, the num- 
 ber of columns, etc. Still there was in these orders an imperious 
 law, that of symmetry, the only aesthetic law with which the tempera- 
 ment of that legislative people could sympathize. 
 
 But the Roman exacted other concessions from Greek art. We 
 have seen how delicate and essentially artistic the Greeks were, as 
 exemplified in the fluting and capitals of their Doric order, and more 
 especially in the exquisite refinement with which they varied the 
 expression of their orders, individualizing each example, without de- 
 stroying its distinctive characteristics as Doric or Ionic, or falling into 
 the abuses of caprice. We have observed that their artists appealed 
 to a sympathizing and appreciative public. But the Roman, on the 
 contrary, insisted on positive and formal classifications in order that 
 he might be understood. As he had to deal with vulgar minds, it 
 was essential that he should be grand, colossal, that he should de- 
 mand rather than appeal ; he required no delicate art, no nervous 
 grace of the Greek, for a public made up of such incongruous ma- 
 terial, but richness, visible grandeur ; and, under this brutal im- 
 pulse, the Greek, become his workman, soon lost the delicate tact 
 of his nation in obedience to the sublime vanity of his master, let 
 for a long time in such hands, the clothing of the Roman monu- 
 ment was distinguished for admirable execution. If the Greek was 
 obliged to load it with ornaments, these long preserved somewhat 
 
ROMAN CONSTRUCTION. 
 
 101 
 
 of their native grace and sobriety. It was only by slow degrees 
 that profusion quite overwhelmed all purity of execution. 
 
 We shall presently take occasion to recur to this subject of ar- 
 chitectural decoration, the frankness and beauty of its execution, at 
 first among the Greeks, and then in the last days of the Roman 
 republic and the first of the empire. Our immediate business is 
 to consider that part of architecture which truly belongs to the 
 Romans, — - the structure of their monuments. 
 
 The Romans at a very early period adopted two distinct methods 
 of construction, which they were accustomed to combine in their 
 buildings : the construction with squared and fitted stones, and that 
 with rubble or brick. The former was employed by them only as 
 a thick facing composed of large blocks laid together without mortar, 
 united by gudgeons and cramps of metal or even of wood, behind 
 which they threw masses of small stones or gravel imbedded in an 
 excellent mortar. The vaults were made of principal arches or 
 ribs of cut stones or of bricks, with a filling in of concrete. 
 This construction imposed on the Roman architects plans peculiarly 
 their own, composed of massive piers as points of support for the 
 springing of their vaults. In these constructions there were no walls, 
 properly speaking, but isolated points of resistance, connected to- 
 gether by certain walls or screens, comparatively light, as they had 
 no weight to support. The arrangements of plans, necessarily re- 
 sulting from this principle, were admirably adapted to vast edifices* 
 containing numerous apartments for various uses, as, for instance, 
 halls surrounded by an agglomeration of smaller rooms or chambers 
 of different form, size, and height, with passages, staircases, etc. 
 
 Let us suppose a programme of this character given to a Roman 
 architect to execute : He first constructs four principal piers, disposed 
 on the corners of a square (Rig. 13) ; these four piers he unites by 
 arches at the height he deems appropriate for the smaller chambers ; 
 then, continuing to elevate his corner piers, he builds from them a 
 vault covering the hall, and composed of two arches or round vaults 
 intersecting each other at right angles ; he proceeds to enclose the 
 whole structure by erecting between the outer faces of the piers thin 
 walls or screens, and, if necessary, he separates the four accessory 
 apartments from the main hall under the vault, by constructing 
 between the inner angles of the piers interior walls as partitions. 
 
 L nder the main intersecting vault, and over the round vaults of the 
 
102 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 chambers, lie opens windows to admit light into the principal room. 
 Finally, he covers the inferior vanlts with lean-to roofs, and the main 
 vault with a low roof, composed of four gables with their intersecting 
 ridges, thus obtaining, in the whole, a simple, easily understood, and 
 unalterable construction. 
 
 Fig. 13. 
 
 However careless the Roman is of the value of workmanship, he 
 possesses a mind too well disciplined, an economy too practical, in 
 short, he is too good an administrator, to erect useless constructions. 
 His calculations soon demonstrate to him that his piers would sup- 
 port his principal and inferior vaults quite as well with less bulk; so 
 he hollows out under the latter round-arched niches covered by half- 
 domes, thus increasing the available area of his subordinate apart- 
 ments, in the manner indicated in Fig. 13. A construction of this 
 character, which, properly speaking, is nothing more than a building 
 
ROMAN DECORATION. 
 
 103 
 
 of rubble with facings of brick, hardly suggests, either on the ex- 
 terior or iu the interior, any system of constructional decoration. 
 But as he is rich, magnificent, and ostentatious, he is not content 
 with the rigorous fulfilment of his requirements ; he must ornament 
 his work ; so he calls bis artists, and lias monolithic columns cut and 
 enormous blocks to build porticos with, and other extraneous after- 
 thoughts. The construction of the building is his own ; the extra- 
 neous decoration he borrows from the Greek. 
 
 Now, the refinements of the Greek Doric order, its mouldings de- 
 signed to be bathed, as it were, in transparent and unobstructed 
 light, its gables ( pediments ) made low-browed that they might not 
 seem to crush the columns beneath, all the delicacies of an art which 
 delighted in purifying the least details, would lie lost, would be 
 almost ridiculous, if, instead of belonging to an isolated temple, 
 whose outlines were detached against a clear sky, they were placed 
 against these masses of Roman brick. It is not improbable that the 
 Romans were conscious of this incongruity; the Greeks in their 
 employ certainly were, for they adopted a richer and coarser order to 
 fulfil these new conditions. They used the Ionic, or, in preference 
 to this, the Corinthian, whose bolder and more numerous mouldings, 
 elaboration of outline, striking effects, and lively contrasts preserved 
 a certain elegance even with no better background than the compact 
 mass of the structure. In the interior, the Roman covered his vaults 
 with a fine stucco, divided into many compartments in order to in- 
 crease the apparent size ; this stucco was moulded with a flat orna- 
 mentation, as the material did not admit a bolder treatment, and the 
 effect heightened by the application of color. The lower parts of his 
 interior walls he lined with slabs of colored marble, separated by 
 mouldings of slight projection in order to obtain that aspect of unity 
 appropriate to rooms receiving a diffuse light. While he desired the 
 outer covering of his construction to be distinguished by bold projec- 
 tions throwing broad shadows, as better suited to the grandeur of his 
 conceptions, the interior linings he kept rich, but quiet and uniform. 
 The Roman therefore had his peculiar taste, which, however faulty, 
 deserves especial attention and study from us, whose laws, insti- 
 tutions, political economy, and language as closely resemble those 
 of Rome, as our character, sentiments, and turn of mind are essen- 
 tially and peculiarly Greek. We in France possess some of the good 
 qualities, and all the faults, of the Athenians ; and even their lan- 
 
104 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 guage, though unfortunately too unfamiliar to us, has had its in- 
 fluence on our own. If our police cannot issue a writ of arrest 
 without the exclusive use of Roman words, we cannot express new 
 ideas, or discuss, or enter into the realm of speculation, philosophy, 
 or science, without calling to our aid words derived from the Greek. 
 
 If the taste of the Greek belonged to his function as poet and 
 artist, that of the Roman was in harmony with his as ruler and legis- 
 lator ; it was based on a profound knowledge of men and their distin- 
 guishing characteristics ; he understood the division of labor, he knew 
 how to discipline the human faculties, and to make them concur to 
 an end which he himself, the conscious governor and head, had 
 dictated, without ever deigning to interfere with the subordinate 
 details. His taste consisted in his not for an instant abandoning 
 the place he had made and so long retained for himself in the world 
 as master, though surrounded by visible signs of decomposition, mak- 
 ing the law of state supreme, but interfering with no religions and 
 discussing no dogmas. But when the emperors became Christian, 
 and undertook to sustain theses in their councils, the empire was 
 lost, and the great Roman body was dislocated. Constantine, in 
 whose reign began the last period of the decline of the Roman em- 
 pire, in the edict, which, in 313, when not yet a Christian, he issued 
 at Milan, conjointly with his brother-in-law Lucinius, said : “ We 
 give to all the world such religious liberty as each person may be 
 inclined to enjoy, to the end that the blessing of Heaven may rest 
 upon us and upon our subjects ; we declare that we give not to the 
 Christians alone, but to all, this liberty, in order to maintain the 
 tranquillity of our reign.” This was exactly the course pursued by 
 the Romans in their architecture. They imposed formulas given 
 by necessity, and an architectural system conformed to their social 
 state ; but they did not dispute that which was peculiarly the art- 
 ist’s, his professional liberty in the details intrusted to his care. 
 
 Exaggeration is . the great stumbling-block in the way of true 
 grandeur. This error the Romans scrupulously avoided. They 
 were grand, but simply so, without effort or refinement. And 
 thus, between the two extremes of daring and of moderation, of 
 ambition and of common-sense, their taste found characteristic ex- 
 pression. Louis XIV., who had somewhat of Roman grandeur in 
 him, endeavored to approach this model, but with what a different 
 result ! How miserable and false, for instance, appear to-day the 
 
THE VAULTS AND PLANS OP THE ROMANS. 
 
 105 
 
 discussions oil art, which arose on the very steps of the throne, when 
 the question was whether the completion of the Louvre should he 
 confided to the Italian Bernini or the French Perrault ! The com- 
 mon-sense of the Romans about art, therefore, is a subject we may 
 well meditate. 
 
 We shall see how this example was followed or misunderstood in 
 the course of historic time, and how rapidly architecture was devel- 
 oped in the one case, and how promptly it declined in the other. 
 
 To return to the question of construction, we have seen that the 
 Greek method, limited as it was to the post and lintel, or cross-beam, 
 could furnish but little variety in the conception of plans. This 
 method, moreover, whether constructions of carpentry or lintels and 
 slabs of stone were used to cover interiors, could not be applied to 
 rooms of any great size; for, if the spaces which could be covered 
 by their horizontal wooden construction were necessarily limited, 
 those roofed with stone were still more so. Edifices destined there- 
 fore by the Greeks to contain large assemblies were necessarily open 
 to the sky. This arrangement their climate allowed. We cannot 
 but be struck with the air of grandeur in these primitive architec- 
 tural conceptions ; but they did not suit the conditions of the 
 Romans, whose dominion, under the emperors, extended from Italy 
 to the colder regions of Germany, Gaul, and Britain. The system 
 of construction among them, of which we have given an example 
 (Fig. 13), permitted them readily and durably to enclose and cover 
 vast spaces, and the simple means needed to effect this object — 
 labor, rubble-stone, clay for brick, and lime for mortar — were 
 everywhere available. In fact, quarried and cut stones were not 
 necessary to the Roman method of building. 
 
 The absolute and practical requirements, arising from the social 
 and political state of the Romans, imposed on their architects from 
 the beginning especial attention to the composition of plans. In 
 fact, if we cast our eyes on the edifices peculiarly Roman, such as 
 baths, palaces, villas, and great, establishments of public utility, we 
 are at once impressed by their novelty and variety in this respect, 
 especially as compared with those of Greece. These buildings 
 present an agglomeration of rooms, as we have seen, each having 
 appropriate dimensions ; the piers, supporting the vaulted roof, 
 have an importance relative to these dimensions, and the various 
 apartments mutually support each other, the smaller bearing up the 
 
106 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 greater, adroitly taking advantage of the voids left between the great 
 points of support. In these vast establishments it is well to observe 
 how economically the space is apportioned, how carefully all dis- 
 positions which could affect the solidity of the construction are 
 avoided, and how appropriate to its destination are the form, aspect, 
 and disposition of the plan of each room. If from the plan we pro- 
 ceed to examine the sections and elevations, we shall see how care- 
 fully the heights of these rooms are adjusted to their superficial area, 
 and how the whole forms but a single edifice, like a hive made up 
 of cells differing in size. It is in these respects that the Roman 
 genius is original and triumphant, and it is from these, and not from 
 what the Romans borrowed from the Greeks when they built temples 
 to the gods, that we can obtain serious, profitable, and eminently 
 copious instruction. 
 
 As we do not undertake to treat of archaeology, but of architec- 
 ture, it is not within our present scope to examine how the Romans 
 modified more or less successfully the plans and dispositions of Greek 
 temples when they thought it proper to adopt them. This study can 
 have no practical aim, however interesting it may be. In observing 
 Roman architecture, let us devote ourselves to that which is pecu- 
 liarly Roman ; we shall find the field vast enough. During the 
 republic the Romans built a few small monuments, like the temple 
 of Vesta at Tivoli, on a circular plan covered by hemispherical 
 vaults in concrete. Rut from the beginning of the empire this 
 kind of construction was developed in a manner until then unknown. 
 Agrippa, in the 729th year of the city, and 24 years before the vul- 
 gar era, built the first of the magnificent baths at Rome, in the ninth 
 district. It is doubtful whether at the same time he built that vast 
 circular hall, known under the name of the Pantheon, which was 
 near these baths, without being in direct communication with them, 
 or whether he found it already built and annexed his baths to it. 
 Dion affirms that Agrippa finished the Pantheon ; but this finishing 
 evidently refers to the portico elevated as an after-thought before the 
 gate of the rotunda, as is stated in the inscription which can still 
 be read on its frieze. But whether he built it or not, or whether he 
 simply decorated the interior with a splendid order of marble, and 
 the exterior with a portico of gray granite or white marble, little 
 concerns us at present ; but what belongs to our immediate subject 
 is a fact concerning the Pantheon about which there can be no 
 
THE PANTHEON. 
 
 107 
 
 question, and this is, that its construction and its decoration form 
 two distinct parts. We are told by Pliny that this temple, as en- 
 riched by Agrippa, was dedicated to Jupiter the Avenger. The 
 interior diameter of this hall is 142 feet 3 inches, and the circular 
 wall which carries the vault is 17 feet 8 inches thick, or about one 
 seventh of the interior diameter. From the pavement to the summit 
 of the vault the distance is 145 feet G inches, nearly the same as the 
 diameter. The circular wall is not plain, for, besides the entrance 
 gate, it has four square recesses and three great semicircular niches. 
 In the spaces between these are disposed near the pavement eight 
 smaller semicircular niches, and, at the height of the springing of the 
 vault, are sixteen apertures, which would pierce to the outer air were 
 they not closed by a wall about four feet thick. No construction could 
 be better as regards duration and solidity. It is entirely faced with 
 large bricks, filled behind with rubble, according to the Roman 
 method, with occasional binding courses of marble. The springing 
 of the vault is about 73 feet 9 inches from the pavement, or about 
 half the extreme height within. These dimensions are given here, 
 because they show that the Romans had certain formulas applicable 
 to the cubic contents of such structures, that they established certain 
 exact relations between the heights and widths of such cubic con- 
 tents, and that already they made the exterior appearance of their 
 structures subordinate to the dispositions in the interiors. The 
 hemispherical vault, which springs from the hollow tambour ot the 
 Pantheon, and covers the void beneath, is, as we have intimated, 
 constructed of bricks and rubble, the former being disposed as ribs 
 built in the thickness of the vault, which is lightened between them 
 by five horizontal rows of caissons or deep panels sunk in the inte- 
 rior concavity. The circular upright wall is composed of discharging 
 arches, distributing all the weight on sixteen piers, the voids be- 
 tween which are occupied by the square recesses and round niches 
 to which we have already alluded. Thus, we see, the whole is a 
 system of construction which imposed laws on the architecture be- 
 fore the architect dreamed of decorating his monument. 
 
 A, in Plate III., exhibits the plan of this rotunda of Agrippa 
 without its interior casings and marble columns, which are indicated 
 in plan B. It is easy to see, on comparing these, that the marble 
 decoration is quite distinct from the structure, that it is composed 
 of a mere veneering or of open-work made by columns, which have 
 
108 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 nothing to do with the solidity of the edifice ; the grandeur of the 
 composition is quite independent of the decoration, which might be 
 disposed otherwise without injuring the effect. The portico is an 
 after-thought, a monument on the front of another monument. Its 
 monostyle columns, and the entablature they support, have no affinity 
 whatever with the concave surfaces, and their skilful system of mu- 
 tual abutment, which are adopted in the rotunda. The interior 
 structure of this monument is a beautiful page to till ; but give the 
 task to ten architects, and you will have as many different systems of 
 decoration ; and I must admit I am not of those who admire without 
 reserve the one adopted. Every one can recognize that there is no 
 intimate and essential alliance here between the construction and 
 decoration, as in every Greek edifice. In examining the construc- 
 tion of this immense rotunda (Plate IV.), we see with what care the 
 architect avoided useless masses of material; how even the voids 
 contribute to the solidity of the circular wall, by distributing the 
 weights on certain chosen points of support, and by multiplying 
 these resisting surfaces. At the height of the springing of the vault 
 (plan on the level G II), the walls are hollowed out in a series of 
 chambers, vaulted alternately with a full-centred arch and a quarter- 
 dome, the buttresses, which cut across these at frequent intervals, 
 firmly maintaining the grand hemispherical cope. A more massive 
 construction would not only present less energy of resistance to the 
 accumulated thrusts, but would be heavier, and would require a 
 much more considerable quantity of materials. 
 
 What I have said of the architecture of the Greeks and of that of 
 the Romans, the one never separating the structure from the visible 
 appearance, from the form, the art, in a word, and the other requir- 
 ing us to distinguish the work of the constructor from its decorative 
 envelope, already points out the manner in which we should study 
 them and apply them to our own needs. It does not follow, from 
 the strong contrasts between these two principles, that we should ex- 
 clusively admire the one and despise the other, and still less are w T e 
 justified in according to either unqualified and vulgar praise or 
 blame. Our duty is to analyze them both, and to take all that is 
 true, logical, profoundly reasoned, delicately felt and expressed in 
 the one, and, in the other, all that is grand, wise, applicable to our 
 modern civilization, and systematized by the necessity of institutions 
 and manners similar to our own. 
 
GREEK AND ROMAN WORK IN THE PANTHEON. 109 
 
 I have endeavored briefly to draw your attention to that which 
 is truly Roman in the rotunda of Agrippa ; but the general effect 
 produced by this immense room on the mind of the spectator cannot 
 be expressed in a drawing or a technical description. In my own 
 opinion, the present interior decoration, which has been several times 
 modified, detracts from, rather than adds to, the grandeur of the effect 
 produced by the purely Roman conception. Multiplicity of details, 
 and the emphasis with which they are pressed upon the attention, 
 diminish the impression of grandeur in a structure, especially when 
 these details have no relation to its purpose. They tend to dis- 
 tract the mind from the principal object. In the Greek temples it 
 is the structure, the general design, and not the details, which first 
 occupy the mind, and the result is that, though generally small, 
 these temples leave upon the mind an impression of grandeur which 
 memory only serves to deepen. It is very difficult to combine op- 
 posite principles, and prevent them, when thus united, from mutu- 
 ally destroying each other. Apart from the value of its details and 
 their perfect execution, I could wish that the Romans had preserved 
 in the rotunda of the Baths of Agrippa its real appearance, and 
 that this room had received a decoration which should emphasize 
 instead of conceal its lovely and simple structure. I cannot but 
 think that the lower order which cuts the great height of the con- 
 structional niches into two parts, and the attic, which masks their 
 arches ; this division into two zones of a homogeneous construction 
 which rises from the pavement tp the springing of the cupola dimin- 
 ishes rather than augments the sublimity of this beautiful composition. 
 I can plainly see in those decorations the hand of the artist, the 
 workman of true talent, the exotic Greek ; but he is not in his place, 
 his work embarrasses me, he does not comprehend the majestic spirit 
 of the Roman, nor can I comprehend it through his envelope without 
 a labor of analysis. 
 
 The incongruity between the Greek and Roman work in the Pan- 
 theon is further illustrated by the difference in the scale of each. 
 The caissons, or large panels sunk deep in the under surface of the 
 dome, are readily recognized as a true ornamental expression of its 
 Roman structure ; but these, by their superior importance and bold- 
 ness, seem to crush the delicate cornices, and the divisions of marble 
 below, which form an immense wainscoting, as it were, covering the 
 supporting wall. The ornaments of metal, with which these caissons 
 
no 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 were probably decorated, rather increased than diminished their im- 
 portance, by calling attention to them and defining them more vigor- 
 ously against the concavity of the hemisphere. Under this decora- 
 tion, so masculine, so bold, and on so grand a scale, what becomes 
 of these effeminate marble panels and flat pilasters, or of the capitals 
 of the columns, whose height was hardly half the diameter of the 
 great bronze rosettes with which these caissons were adorned ? 
 
 I can conceive a room, all of whose parts are on a grand scale, 
 with a wainscoting of marble or wood, which, by its height and fine 
 details, should recall at the base of the structure the dimensions of a 
 man ; but I cannot understand the meaning of a wainscoting seventy- 
 five feet high. Agrippa, in clothing his rotunda, as an after-thought 
 probably, with decorations of marble forming a splendid order under 
 his vault, gave evidence rather of his magnificence than his taste ; 
 and this is the common sin of the Roman : he is rich and magnifi- 
 cent, he would patronize the arts, for he has an idea of their power ; 
 but he is wanting in the sure and delicate taste of the Greeks when 
 they were free to follow their own inspirations. You remember the 
 sarcasm of the Greek sculptor addressed to his brother in the art : 
 “ Not being able to make thy Venus beautiful, thou hast made her 
 rich.” We are deeply impressed bv a Roman ruin, because, in its 
 melancholy nakedness, nothing is left of it but that which is essen- 
 tially Roman in its structure. The hall in the Baths of Caracalla, 
 whose vaults are ruined and whose piers are stripped, but which 
 unveils to us the gigantic mechanism of the Roman work, would 
 produce a less striking effect upon the mind of the beholder were 
 it clothed in its array of useless columns, its marble veneering, and 
 its incongruous decorations. That which produces the liveliest im- 
 pression in the Pantheon is the immense vault which derives all its 
 decoration from its own structure, and that single aperture, twenty- 
 five feet in diameter, pierced at its summit, open to the zenith, and 
 shedding upon the porphyry and granite pavement a great circle of 
 light. So great is the elevation of this eye of the dome, that its 
 immense opening has no sensible effect on the temperature of the 
 interior. The most violent storms scarcely breathe upon the head 
 of him who stands beneath it, and the rain falls vertically and slowly 
 through the immense void in a cylinder of drops, and marks the 
 pavement with a humid circle. 
 
 It was in such conceptions, expressing his peculiar genius, and 
 
THE COLUMN OF TRAJAN. 
 
 Ill 
 
 demanding no foreign artist to execute them, that the Roman was 
 truly grand. But when lie would build a temple like the Greeks, 
 and accepted richness of detail and material for a sign of grandeur, 
 he fell far below the serene beauty and purity of his model ; and the 
 fastidious Greek, who applied his art to the Roman monument, be- 
 littled it, and, bewildered in a strange atmosphere, forgot his own 
 principles to become merely elaborate in details ; a skilful slave, 
 neither understood by nor understanding his master. We must 
 admit, to the credit of the Roman, that he was no hypocrite ; this 
 vice (or perhaps I should say this resource), so common since the 
 seventeenth century, was below him. The rich envelope with which 
 he covered his monument held certain relations with its structure 
 after all, yet we can plainly see that he attached to this envelope but 
 little importance. In fact, he treated the whole question of art with 
 a sort of good-nature (if I may use the word) which is not without 
 its charm, and certainly has a trait of grandeur in it. But in this 
 respect we must not deceive ourselves : when the Roman wished to 
 be an artist in his own time and fashion, it was not easy to equal 
 him. There is one remarkable example of this in a certain monu- 
 ment, known to all the world, traditionally but ignorantly admired, 
 and generally, in an artistic point of view, falsely appreciated, — the 
 Column of Trajan. I doubt if the Greeks ever conceived anything 
 like this, for in it the peculiar genius of the Romans, their ideas of 
 order and method, their sentiment as a ruling people, are pushed 
 even to the sublime. There is something foreign to the Greek mind 
 in thus writing the history of a conquest on a spiral of marble ter- 
 minated by the statue of the conqueror. The Athenians were too 
 envious to render such honor to any man, and they had none of those 
 ideas of political order which were so powerfully expressed in the 
 column of the Forum of Trajan. From the base to the summit it 
 bears the imprint of Roman genius. Its square base is covered with 
 low reliefs, representing trophies of the arms of conquered nations. 
 Above the door, which gives entrance to the staircase, which winds 
 up within the column to the abacus of its capital, is an inscription 
 supported by two winged Victories. On the angles of the cornice 
 of the base four eagles hold in their beaks garlands of laurel. The 
 torus of the base is itself a great crown. Then, like a ribbon wound 
 around the shaft, is a sort of continuous frieze, on which is sculp- 
 tured in the most admirable manner the story of the first campaign 
 
112 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 of Trajan. In about the middle of the height of the column a 
 Victory, in low relief, traces the record of the actions of the conqueror 
 on a tablet. Then begins the series of bas-reliefs, representing the 
 second campaign, winding up till the capital brings these august 
 archives to a close. The capital approaches the Greek Doric in 
 character, and its echinus is cut with the egg-and-tongue ornament. 
 The whole is terminated by a circular pedestal supporting the statue 
 of Trajan. If the conception is beautiful, the construction is not less 
 so. The shaft is composed of enormous blocks of white marble, 
 within which is hollowed out the staircase with its newel. The 
 capital is monolithic, and the pedestal is of eight pieces of marble. 
 
 The curious descriptions which Pausanias has left us regarding 
 Greece, refer at every turn to the public places and acropoles of 
 cities tilled with statues, votive monuments, and bas-reliefs, sculp- 
 tured by such an artist, and commanded by such a person, to 
 commemorate or consecrate some fact. Thus the Greek cities often 
 seemed actual museums in the open air, collections of works of art, 
 surrounding and tilling their principal monuments. But for the 
 Roman such things were mere amusements. If he would have 
 a work of art, he took care that it should be well ordered, that 
 it should present a complete whole, and should have the impor- 
 tance, the clearness, and the methodical spirit of a law, a political 
 or administrative edict. The artist disappeared; the monument 
 was simply a sénat as-consul turn . But when ideas so broad and so 
 elevated find fit expression in a monument like the Column of 
 Trajan, I confess that for me Greek art, if not in form, at least 
 in spirit, seems vanquished. Yet a decree, to accomplish its object 
 most effectually, is better upon paper than in a bad monument 
 imperfectly rendering a political thought. 
 
 A Roman monument should never be studied alone for its own 
 sake, but as one of a class ; it is never an isolated example, but part 
 of a vast system which requires to be understood before the form and 
 objects of the structure can be justly criticised. In the political 
 organization of the Romans, everything, even religion, tended to the 
 same end. The same is true of their architecture. The buildings 
 which best characterized the Roman spirit were baths, palaces, 
 theatres, with their vast dependencies, and villas, that is, monumental 
 cities, as it were, including in themselves all which belonged to the 
 material and intellectual life of the Romans. Everywhere they were 
 
PKÆTORIAN CAMPS. 
 
 113 
 
 essentially Roman citizens, and so far as practicable, even at home as 
 private individuals, surrounded themselves with all the appointments 
 of a Roman city. If the Roman was rich enough to build a villa 
 according to his ideal, it included, not only the structures belonging 
 to a private habitation, not only the dependencies of a vast establish- 
 ment at once military and rural, but a basilica, baths, a theatre, a 
 library, a museum and temples, like those destined for public use. 
 It is then in this co-ordinate mass of monuments that we must seek 
 to understand Roman architecture, and to discover the general meth- 
 ods and the details belonging to it. 
 
 As the essence of the Roman edifice was its plan, let us pursue 
 our investigations in this especial branch by comparing the plans of 
 two public structures whose objects were entirely distinct, barracks 
 and baths. 
 
 On the northeast extremity of the sixth district of Rome, and in 
 Adrian’s villa at Tivoli, there can still be seen the remains of grand 
 
 Fig. 14. 
 
 camps or permanent quarters for troops. Each of these establish- 
 ments consists of a square enclosure entered by four gates ; against 
 the inner side of all the enclosing walls is disposed a series of cham- 
 bers, each covered with a round arched vault. Within the enclosure 
 8 
 
114 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 are a number of isolated structures, composed each of a long longi- 
 tudinal wall, on either side of which similar series of chambers are 
 arranged back to back. In the centre is the prætorium, a square 
 building, destined for the dwelling of the commander -in-chief. In 
 the middle of one of the sides of the enclosing wall is a temple, 
 in which were preserved the military ensigns, which, among the 
 Romans, were objects of divine worship. Each corps has its sepa- 
 rate building, conveniently disposed ; in short, no plan could be 
 simpler or better suited for this special service. Fig. 14, which 
 gives the configuration of the great praetorian camp of the sixth 
 district of Rome, sufficiently illustrates this. . Fig. 15 explains the 
 method of construction. Great care was observed in these structures 
 
 Fig. 15. 
 
 with regard to hygiene. Where, as in the camp of the villa of 
 Adrian at Tivoli, these ranges of cells were built against a face of 
 rock or the side of a hill, the walls adjoining the escarpment were 
 made double to avoid humidity. The Roman never spared space, 
 nor yet did he occupy it uselessly; his military and civil organization 
 led him to love symmetry, but lie did not sacrifice necessity to it. 
 
 In examining their baths, we shall see how nobly, and with what 
 luxury of construction and decoration, this people understood how to 
 give harmony and unity to a programme embracing the most various 
 uses and requirements. Every one knows what these uses were. 
 In the earlier days of the republic, the baths of the Romans were 
 small establishments, supplied with water from Avells or from the 
 
THE BATHS OF THE HOMANS. 
 
 115 
 
 Tiber; but in the year 441 of Rome, Appius Claudius brought water 
 from the lake of Præneste to the city by means of aqueducts. His 
 example was followed by subsequent magistrates, and soon the 
 Romans constructed public and private baths, after the fashion of 
 those of the Greeks. 
 
 Under the emperors, these edifices were numerous, and most of 
 them embraced not only pools and rooms devoted to hot and cold 
 baths, but gymnasiums, halls of assembly, libraries, gardens, prome- 
 nades, everything in short which could contribute to the satisfaction 
 of the mind or of the body. For a very low price of admission these 
 baths, with all their luxuries and conveniences, were available to 
 every citizen. Under these circumstances it is not difficult to under- 
 stand that, however numerous were these institutions in the popu- 
 lous cities of antiquity, they were always full. Many Romans passed 
 the greater part of the day within their walls. Under the Automnes, 
 Rome possessed already three immense public baths, those of Agrip- 
 pa, those of Titus, and those of Caracalla. Later, Dioclesian and 
 Constantine built baths. A whole city might be enclosed within the 
 walls of one of these structures ; and yet, if we examine their plans, 
 we shall find there no confusion, no useless or lost space, but everv- 
 where order, the marks of a well-understood and thoroughly executed 
 design, simple distributions adroitly managed to meet the practical 
 necessities of the time and place. 
 
 Let us first analyze this programme : There must be a great en- 
 trance hall so arranged as to admit the freest ingress and egress ; 
 opening from it must be cells for those desiring to bathe for the 
 sake of health without mingling with the crowd, and apartments for 
 women, who, coming from without, could take baths at certain hours 
 without entering the enclosure. These cells and apartments should 
 be very numerous, and must each be preceded by an anteroom, in 
 which the robes of the bathers can be deposited in the hands of 
 slaves. A portico should give covered entrance to these chambers. 
 In the enclosure proper of the baths there must be a garden refreshed 
 with fountains, and supplied with seats and exhedras or semicircular 
 benches of marble for repose and conversation ; open courts for lec- 
 turers and philosophers ; extensive uncovered promenades for those 
 wishing to take their exercise without being crowded and jostled by 
 the public; closed rooms for academical discussions; open palæstras 
 or gymnasiums lor those who would exercise themselves in various 
 
116 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 games ; academies closed and covered ; porticos for the directors of 
 the exercises where they would be removed from the noise of the 
 palæstras ; magazines for the storage of sand and oil for the wrestlers, 
 for linen, fuel, etc. ; great open courts or arenas for athletic sports, 
 such as games with the ball or quoit ; amphitheatrical ranges of seats 
 for the spectators of these sports ; and numerous apartments for the 
 officers and slaves of the establishment. These various courts and 
 offices are all to be arranged outside of and around the main build- 
 ings of the baths. To the latter access must be obtained by one or 
 more vestibules ; within, in succession, there must be apartmënts for 
 undressing, with wardrobes, in charge of special attendants ; waiting- 
 rooms ; the cold bath, a vast basin opening from the vestibules ; 
 tepid baths and apartments large enough for exercise, with places 
 reserved for spectators ; a warm room preceding the hot bath, which 
 should be a large basin deep enough for swimmers ; a smaller hot- 
 water basin for those who would bathe more privately. Beyond the 
 hot bath there must be other tepid baths and rooms, serving as a 
 transition from the temperature of the caldarium or hot bath, through 
 rooms of graduated coolness to the outer air. Annexed, for those 
 coming out of the baths, there must be provided, on the one hand, 
 apartments in which their bodies may be anointed with oil, prepara- 
 tory to engaging in exercises and athletic sports, for which especial 
 halls are to be provided, and on the other, there must be libraries 
 and rooms for conversation, public readings, and lectures. There 
 must also be prepared a closed, hot vestibule leading to the suda- 
 torium, or sweat-bath, composed of rooms heated to a high temper- 
 ature, regulated at will, and supplied with a basin of hot water, 
 reservoirs, stoves, furnaces, etc. Rooms for the instruction of pupils 
 in gymnastic exercises must also be included in this vast suite of 
 apartments. 
 
 This programme not only supposes a building surpassing in extent 
 any modern structure, but exacts from the architect the most difficult 
 task which could be assigned him: the disposition en suite of very 
 large and very small apartments, varying in height and superficial 
 dimensions, and devoted to various specified uses. We shall see that 
 constructors who could build barracks for soldiers on the simplest 
 data, could also meet all the elaborate conditions of this programme 
 with incomparable skill, truth, and exactness of judgment. But its 
 various requirements were only satisfied by the application of a vig- 
 orous and logical principle. 
 
THE BATHS OF CARACALLA. 
 
 117 
 
 Let us select for examination the Baths of Caracalla as the most 
 complete of all the Roman baths, and as made most thoroughly 
 known to us by the care and judicious criticism of the learned and 
 modest Blouet, a professor whose loss we can never cease to regret. 
 Let us study together the plan of this establishment. 
 
 Availing himself of the disposition of the land, the architect estab- 
 lished a vast plateau A B C D. On the entrance side G and outside 
 the enclosure were cells for separate baths provided with porticos 
 and easy stairs. They were in two stories ; each cell was vaulted 
 with a round wagon-arch, like the cells of the prætorian barracks, 
 and contained, as already mentioned, an anteroom and also a basin 
 large enough to accommodate several people. The enclosure of the 
 baths was penetrated by a grand open entrance in the centre of the 
 side G and by several inferior gates along the length of the palæs- 
 tras. On entering, the visitor found, in the midst of an immense 
 space divided into gardens, walks, etc., a vast pile containing the 
 principal halls and apartments of the establishment. The symme- 
 try which distinguished this structure was the result of a practical 
 necessity, and not a mere aesthetic refinement. It was composed of 
 the great mass of the superior apartments, the cold bath at E, the 
 tepid bath and room at E, the hot bath and vestibule at I, dis- 
 posed singly in the axis of the edifice and dominating over the 
 whole, while the subordinate and lower offices were doubled and 
 grouped equally on either side of the main mass. This disposition 
 afforded a reasonable accommodation for the crowds frequenting the 
 baths, the important halls being kept spacious and proportionately 
 high, to avoid embarrassments from the greater number of people 
 they were destined to contain at once ; while the inferior offices and 
 adjuncts were doubled in number and diminished in size, that the 
 public might be more conveniently divided and disposed for the 
 purposes to which these secondary apartments were devoted. 
 
 The architect, with much intelligence, observed that an edifice, the 
 resort of a great crowd at certain hours, should be supplied with 
 many entrances to avoid disorder. Two of these were opened at J ; 
 within these he arranged two rooms, K, for undressing, with the 
 wardrobes, L, attended by slaves. The rooms 1/ were designed for 
 the storage of sand and oil for the wrestlers. The vestibules or cov- 
 ered passages n, opening from the dressing-rooms K, on the cold- 
 water basin E, were for the accommodation of those who came 
 
118 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 merely to refresh themselves with a plunge or swim. The basin of 
 cold water, E, was open to the sky, as it is not necessary to protect 
 bathers in cold water from the rain, and as cold water in a closed 
 place would be unwholesome. Apartments destined for those who 
 desired repose or conversation were disposed at N. Thence the 
 bathers penetrated to the tepid bath {tepidarium) E, which was di- 
 vided into three sections : the principal one for the exercises, the 
 two others on either side for the assistants. Smaller basins were 
 placed in the recesses 0, and in the midst of the two lateral rooms. 
 At P were reserved two areas to contain the furnaces and reservoirs 
 for hot water. Erom the centre of the tepidarium F there was access 
 to a second tepidarium, 0 E, which served as a vestibule to the hot- 
 water bath {caldarium). The two doors between this vestibule and 
 the caldarium were relatively narrow and indirect, in order to avoid 
 the introduction of currents of colder air into the latter. The cal- 
 darium was an immense circular room covered by a very lofty hem- 
 ispherical dome, in order that the vapor condensed from the hot 
 water might not concentrate and drip over the great basin. Smaller 
 basins were reserved in the recesses of the circular wall for those 
 desiring to bathe apart. Openings filled with glazed windows ad- 
 mitted light at the lower and upper levels of the caldarium. The 
 bathers, wishing to leave, found at Q tepid rooms with basins of 
 lukewarm water, serving as a transition between the temperature of 
 the caldarium and that of the outer air. Thus those who were de- 
 parting did not meet or interfere with those who were entering. 
 Then came, in the same range, the cool rooms R, opening upon the 
 outer gardens. Erom these rooms the bather, by crossing the open 
 courts S, serving for exercises, and by passing through narrow pas- 
 sages, could enter the small lukewarm rooms which served as ves- 
 tibules for the sweating-room {sudatorium) . Reservoirs for warm 
 water were arranged in the spaces I y P'. At the extremities were 
 the vast peristyles T, with exhedras, for those desiring to walk, con- 
 verse, or listen to the public readers ; then the spaces U were des- 
 tined for the instruction of pupils in gymnastics ; two especial vesti- 
 bules, with libraries, were disposed at W ; in the angles, at V, were 
 placed basins of cold water for the use of those exercising in the 
 arena for athletic sports (< xystunî) X, while the arena itself was ter- 
 minated by graduated rows of seats for the accommodation of spec- 
 tators. 
 
THE BATHS OP CABACALLA. 
 
 119 
 
 On either side of the xystuin were the gymnasiums Z, with the 
 academical apartments a, and those reserved for debates at b ; at, c 
 was the portico for the masters of the gymnasiums. At an isolated 
 and tranquil point were the rooms d, in which the philosophers or 
 lecturers were accustomed to confer. In fine, rooms for the attend- 
 ants of the baths were at e, with lodgings above. At g were im- 
 mense reservoirs in two stages, and the aqueduct which introduced 
 the water is indicated at h. 
 
 It may be objected that, if the programme is here exactly tilled, 
 it is because it was prepared after the buildings were erected. But 
 this observation would be unjust ; for, if we examine the plans of the 
 Baths of Agrippa, or of Titus, or Dioclesian, or Constantine, we shall 
 find the same conditions equally well carried out with remarkable 
 difference in the methods. 
 
 But what more especially deserves our attention is the skill and 
 good judgment with which this plan is put together. Its disposi- 
 tion with regard to the points of the compass is remarkable. All 
 the warm rooms faced the southwest, and the vast rotunda of the 
 caldarium was raised to the height of more than half its diameter, so 
 that it might receive the sun’s rays all day long. Observe also how, 
 with so great a space at his disposal, the architect economized his 
 land ; with what skill he fitted the various rooms together, profiting 
 by every void allowed by the construction ; how he shouldered, as it 
 were, and sustained the great mass of constructions by using the 
 smaller rooms to hold up the greater ; and how well the thrusts of 
 the vaults were met by those of the abutments. Observe, too, how 
 clear and easy to read this plan is ; how economical of space are its 
 arrangements, how adroitly managed its issues, — large and numer- 
 ous where crowds could collect, but small, deep, and indirect where 
 larger openings would introduce dangerous currents of air and inter- 
 fere with the various temperatures. The Romans were indebted to no 
 foreigners for these ideas; they were the natural result of the desire 
 and the power to satisfy their peculiar necessities by the most direct 
 methods ; and it followed from their social state that these methods 
 were very simple and economical. These walls and these enormous 
 piers were never constructed of cut stones, whose quarrying, cutting, 
 transportation, and laying would be expensive and tedious, but of 
 brick and rubble. The faces of the walls were built of triangular 
 bricks, their larger side laid toward the exterior ; the mass of the wall 
 
120 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 within being composed of a concrete of coarse gravel and an excellent 
 mortar. Binding courses of larger bricks were laid every four feet, 
 as if to correct the construction and secure the levels. Discharging 
 arches of brick, built in the mass of the wall, distributed the weights 
 among the principal points of support. In the vaulting, the main 
 arches or ribs were of large bricks, generally in two courses, the 
 vaulting itself being a concrete of mortar and pumice-stone, beaten 
 down on the form or centering of timber, on which had been pre- 
 viously laid two thicknesses of coarse tiling, — the whole forming 
 a firm construction when this centering was removed. This sim- 
 ple, economical, and easily executed construction completed, the 
 architects built their porticos with columns and entablatures of mar- 
 ble ; the rough walls and piers were everywhere (at least on their 
 inner surfaces) covered with a superb veneering of marble up to a 
 certain height ; and the rest of the wall-space, the vaults and niches, 
 with painted stucco or a mosaic made of a vitrified paste of many 
 colors. In all the rooms the pavements of tessellated marble were 
 laid upon hollow floors, composed of large square double bricks or 
 tiles resting upon little piers under each corner, with one under each 
 centre ; these pavements were not only dry and perfectly whole- 
 some, but could be warmed beneath by currents of air from the 
 furnaces.' 
 
 * Our own costly methods of construction, the useless quarries of 
 stone which we accumulate in our buildings, and, in connection with 
 this luxury, the extreme poverty of the details of our interior con- 
 struction with plaster and paper to cover it, are, it must be confessed, 
 barbarous enough, when compared with the simple, rational, and 
 true methods of the Romans. At enormous expense we pile stone 
 upon stone, employing all our resources to cut and carve them. 
 We draw on our quarries, as if they were inexhaustible, to build 
 our little structures ; and after all our efforts and expenditures to 
 erect walls of useless cost and strength, and admraible conductors 
 of humidity, our resources are too much exhausted to enable us to 
 adorn this precious material within in a suitable, permanent man- 
 ner. So we call to our aid the plasterer, the worker in carton- 
 pierre, the carpenter with his cheapest and lightest woods, the me- 
 chanical painter with his flat pigments, and thus with wretched rags 
 and tatters cheaply conceal the unnecessarily costly material of our 
 walls. If, as we pretend, we owe our arts to the Romans, and if our 
 
THE BATHS OF ANTONINUS CARACALLA. 
 
 RUINS 
 
 IE FRIGIDARIUM. 
 
i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 
CONSIDERATIONS OP ECONOMY AND TEMPERATURE. 121 
 
 architecture boasts of being the daughter of theirs, we ought at least 
 to imitate them in those respects wherein they were truly wise and 
 reasonable, and not build in solid stone structures which they 
 would more judiciously have constructed of brick and rubble, nor 
 ape forms of architecture which resulted from a method of building 
 which we cannot or do not care to follow. But the disadvantages 
 of this substitution of cut stone for brick and rubble are not limited 
 to considerations of expense and the inconveniences attending the 
 misunderstanding of a principle. These great Roman monuments, 
 constructed as their walls were, and with such an adroit disposition 
 of smaller rooms profiting by the intervals left between the points 
 of support, which were necessitated by the greater extent and height 
 of the larger apartments, possessed an advantage of which we have 
 not yet spoken : they were thus enabled to preserve in the interior a 
 mild, equable temperature through all seasons, — an advantage which 
 would be very precious in a climate like ours. St. Peter’s at Rome 
 recalls the general plan and system of construction of the great halls 
 of the baths ; now, by virtue of that similarity, this basilica, whose 
 enclosed space surpasses that, of any other known structure, main- 
 tains a temperature at all seasons nearly the same, soft and refresh- 
 ing in the summer without humidity, and, in the winter, mild and 
 dry. Thick walls of brick and rubble transmit from without neither 
 heat, cold, nor dampness ; they form, as it were, a neutral obstacle to 
 the exterior temperature. But the buildings which we construct of 
 stone are dangerous in the summer by reason of the dampness which 
 their walls preserve, while in winter they are icy. 
 
 If we examine the elevations and sections of the Baths of Caracalla, 
 we shall find in their outer walls enormous apertures, formerly fur- 
 nished with bronze frames, containing plates of glass or translucent 
 alabaster, or simply open to the outer atmosphere ; but we shall 
 also discover that these apertures opened towards the most favorable 
 points of the horizon, carefully profiting by the heat of the sun and 
 avoiding damp or cold exposures. In fact, the Romans attached 
 great importance to the orientation of their edifices. Vitruvius re- 
 turns many times to this subject in the course of his treatise ; he 
 even indicates the manner in which the streets of a town should be 
 laid out to give the greatest comfort to the habitations and to avoid 
 strong draughts. In Book VI., Chapter I., he says : — - 
 
 “ In constructing a building, our first consideration should be the 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 climate of the country in which it is to be erected ; for the arrange- 
 ment of a structure in Egypt should be different from that of a 
 structure in Spain, a building in Pontus should not be like a build- 
 ing in Rome. .... In northern countries, houses should be very 
 tightly built, and covered with vaults, and their apertures should be 
 small, and face towards the warmest point of the horizon. In south- 
 ern countries, on the contrary, where the heat of the sun is oppres- 
 sive, the apertures should be larger, and open towards the north to 
 receive the cooler and more refreshing airs from that quarter ; thus 
 the inconveniences arising from a natural excess may be obviated 
 by art.” 
 
 Now the Romans, when they became masters of the world, fol- 
 lowed everywhere the same methods of construction, because, indeed, 
 those methods were everywhere applicable ; but their apertures for 
 air and light were carefully disposed to suit the locality of their 
 structures, as indicated in the passage from Vitruvius. 
 
 Before quitting the Baths of Antoninus Caracalla, I shall endeavor 
 to give an idea of their vast and beautiful constructions by present- 
 ing in Plate VI. the actual state of ruin of the frigidarium, marked E 
 on the plan, one of the noblest and most original conceptions of this 
 great structure, and, in Plate VIE, a restoration of the same part, 
 both views being taken from the same point, &>, on the plan. In 
 these we find an apt illustration of the principal peculiarity of Ro- 
 man architecture, the essential distinction between the construction 
 and the decoration, the building having been actually erected before 
 the architect was called upon to ornament it. In Plate VII., in 
 which the frigidarium is represented open to the sky, we can see, 
 above the three great main arches, the apertures admitting light into 
 the central hall E of the tepidarium, under the arches of the triple 
 cross-vault which covers it. 
 
 The attention of the reader has been directed to the Baths of 
 Caracalla, not because they are a fair epitome of all Roman archi- 
 tecture, but because they present the fullest development of the 
 essential points of originality of that architecture at an advanced 
 period of Roman history. According to Vitruvius, even so late as 
 the age of Augustus, wood played an important part in architecture, 
 not as a mere provisionary scaffolding or centering for the construc- 
 tion of vaults, but as a permanent means of covering buildings. 
 Almost all the rectangular temples, whose plan and structure Avere 
 
ROMAN VAULTING. 
 
 123 
 
 borrowed from the Greeks, and the naves of all the basilicas, were 
 roofed with wood. It was not until after the great tire of Rome, 
 under Nero, that the Romans almost everywhere abandoned these 
 wooden roofs and substituted for them vaults in masonry, though 
 the Baths of Agrippa and the Pantheon, in which the principle of the 
 vault and dome was intelligently used, were built long before that 
 time. 
 
 The great circular hall, the caldarium, of the Baths of Caracalla, 
 closely resembled the Rotunda of Agrippa in many respects ; but, if 
 the details of its architecture were less pure and executed with less 
 refinement and elegance, it must be admitted that, as a composition, 
 it was superior to the Pantheon, so flu* as we can judge from the 
 remains, especially as restored by the conscientious labors of the late 
 M. Blouet. We cannot but admire the greater frankness with which 
 the construction of this room was confessed both in the interior and 
 exterior decoration. 
 
 The Romans particularly affected two principal dispositions in the 
 construction of their vaulted buildings : the circular construction 
 covered by a hemispherical dome, and the construction in bays such 
 as we have seen adopted in the great central tepid room of the Baths 
 of Caracalla, such as were used in the Baths of Titus and Dioclesian, 
 and in the monument known as the Basilica of Maxentius or Con- 
 stantine. Their vaults were either domical or semi-cylindrical ; and 
 it was by causing two of the latter (i. e. the wagon-vaults) to pene- 
 trate each other at right angles, that the cross-vault was found. 
 These two systems, with this complex derivative, sufficed for all 
 their uses, and the combinations of their plans were but the neces- 
 sary consequences of the three methods. If they had a circular 
 room, they covered it with a hemispherical vault ; if a semicircular 
 room, they used the half of a hemispherical vault ; an oblong room, 
 whose lateral walls were thick or well abutted by supernumerary 
 constructions, they enclosed with the continuous wagon-vault ; a 
 square room, whose angles could withstand a thrust, was roofed with 
 the cross-vault ; and if, by reason of convenience, their oblong rooms 
 or naves had to be pierced on the longer sides with three or more 
 grand lateral bays, thus obtaining isolated points of support, there 
 were three or more corresponding cross-vaults, the main longitudinal 
 wagon-vault being crossed at right angles by the transverse wagon- 
 vaults connecting the opposite bays. 
 
124 
 
 DISCOURSES ON AEC HITECTUEE . 
 
 This large and simple disposition divided the entire weight of the 
 vault among the piers or buttresses, which were very often adorned, 
 each on the inner face, with a column, receiving the foot of the cross- 
 vaulting, as indicated in Fig. 1G. This column, as it was always 
 monolithic, the Roman employed as a rigid pier or vertical prop 
 placed exactly under the springing of the vault, in order to furnish 
 an incompressible and apparently light point of support. But here 
 we can see' that the Roman was not inspired by the sure taste of 
 the Greek, or rather that it was only in exceptional cases that he 
 preoccupied himself with questions of art ; for he interposed be- 
 tween the springing of the vault and his column a full entablature 
 with its architrave, frieze, and cornice, in the form of a block. If 
 it is reasonable to place an entablature on a column as the artistic 
 expression of a horizontal construction, as in the post and lintel sys- 
 tem of the Greeks, it is hardly reasonable when the column is the 
 vertical prop to the thrust of a vault ; and we may well ask, Why use 
 this entablature, and what signifies its cornice, or sheltering projec- 
 tion, in an interior, where it only serves to destroy the unity of 
 aspect which a great room should present, whose vault is but the 
 arching over of its walls? But, as I have said, the Roman seized 
 the Greek order complete, without troubling himself to analyze or 
 take into account the peculiar function of each of its parts, or to 
 modify it to suit the strange uses to which he applied it. If he 
 wished to establish a separation, after the fashion of an open screen, 
 between two rooms connected by one of his*great arched bays, as we 
 have seen so often in the baths, he took a little order complete and 
 used it as one would use a barrier or balustrade. Fig. 16 shows one 
 of these secondary orders in A. He thus placed a little Corinthian 
 order by the side of a great Corinthian order, their members and 
 profiles being nearly the same, one the diminutive of the other. The 
 result is that, while the great order seemed colossal, the little order, 
 by comparison, appeared insignificant and mean. As the invention 
 of the Roman was ingenious and copious in construction, in decora- 
 tion it was sterile ; the more wealth he lavished on his ornaments, the 
 greater was the poverty or rather indifference to taste he manifested, 
 for the more precious the material, the more fastidious should we 
 become regarding its form. In the baths, the Roman was Roman 
 indeed, and the decoration he saw fit to borrow from the Greeks had 
 really an importance so secondary that it would be lost time to dwell 
 upon its details. 
 
Fig. 18. 
 
ALLIANCE OF CONSTRUCTION AND DECORATION. 125 
 
 The Greek must have been very much embarrassed, when placed 
 among these great Roman concretions, to decorate them with his 
 delicate architecture, the issue of constructive methods so vitally dif- 
 ferent ; yet, we must admit, there was a certain grandeur and fitness 
 in the manner in which the rough but workman-like construction of 
 the Romans was covered with precious marbles, with stucco and 
 painting, and in which these entered into the composition of the 
 orders and harmonized together. 
 
 But Roman buildings were not always so absolute in their use of 
 architectural details, nor was their decoration always so distinct from 
 the construction. In the basilicas, for instance, whose plans, con- 
 struction, and decoration were, however, a Greek tradition, the two 
 principles were in harmony. We shall presently have occasion to 
 examine and study this structure, and shall see how it became a 
 great type, and what transformations it underwent in the hands of 
 the mediaeval builders of Western Europe. 
 
 If Roman architecture was monotonous as regards the decorative 
 envelope, it was, as we have said, fertile in structure and in the 
 development of plans. The practical requirements of Roman struc- 
 tures, as met and solved by the architects, resulted in marked dis- 
 tinctions of character between their buildings. It is impossible to 
 mistake a Roman bath for a theatre, a theatre for a basilica, a basilica 
 for a temple. The exterior aspect and the plan of the Roman monu- 
 ment were always a frank confession and expression of its uses and 
 requirements ; the Romans never sacrificed these to the puerile sat- 
 isfaction of making what we call architecture. Their first aim was 
 the simplest and most exact expression of the programme ; their 
 second, to clothe the forms, thus indicated by practical necessity, 
 with an effect of power and wealth. If the programmes were 
 vague, if the practical requirements to be accommodated were not 
 sufficiently well defined, as in the basilicas, for example, which 
 were sometimes promenades, sometimes markets, or exchanges, or 
 tribunals, or places of discussion, the architects varied their plans 
 according to their own interpretation of the immediate or local 
 conditions of the problem. But if, on the contrary, the programme 
 was positive, if necessity or experience dictated the general plan 
 and detail of the design, as in the case of theatres, amphitheatres, 
 and circuses, an invariable conventional form was adopted and every- 
 where repeated with scarcely a modification. Thus the Coliseum, the 
 
12G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 amphitheatre of Verona, the arenas of Nismes and Arles, are in 
 general disposition, plan, exterior aspect, and method of construction 
 nearly identical. The Romans derived their amphitheatres, or at 
 least their spectacles, from the Etruscans ; but the Greeks did not 
 adopt them until their country had become a province of the empire. 
 Up to the time of the Gracchi, at Rome, temporary ranges of wooden 
 seats and scaffoldings had been constructed for the spectators of the 
 sports of the circus ; but, under the emperors, durable and permanent 
 structures were erected, so disposed as to accommodate conveniently 
 in their enclosure an immense concourse of people, each of whom 
 had an unobstructed view of the combats between gladiators, animals, 
 condemned prisoners, and even ships, which took place in the arena. 
 
 “ The Etruscans,” said Quatremère de Quincy, in his Dictionnaire 
 Historique d' Architecture, “addicted to all sorts of religious super- 
 stitions, appeared to have imbibed a sombre spirit, a cruel and 
 ferocious disposition, and savage prejudices. In thunder and light- 
 ning, in the usual ills and scourges of nature, they saw the anger 
 of the gods, to be appeased only by blood. In Etruria, therefore, 
 the sanguinary combats of the arena were not, as afterwards in 
 Rome, the mere amusement of an idle and remorseless population, 
 but a religious rite, and religion built their amphitheatres.” 
 
 The primitive amphitheatres of Italy were mere circular or ellip- 
 tical excavations surrounded by slopes, occasionally supplied with 
 temporary scaffolding, erected at the time of the celebrations, to 
 accommodate the spectators. The remains of that at Pæstum are 
 of this character. This simple programme gave occasion to the 
 Romans to build immense structures in masonry, which, however, 
 in all cases, rigorously followed the primitive forms in terraces and 
 wood. The theatres of the Greeks were ordinarily disposed in a 
 semicircle on the hollow flanks of a hill, with a favorable aspect, 
 the circles and descending grades being cut in the rock, and sur- 
 mounted by a structure of wood, and the scenery being constructed 
 partly of wood and partly of masonry. Such were the theatre of 
 Syracuse, all of whose ranges of seats remain, and that of Ephesus. 
 Rut. the Greeks had no amphitheatres ; the barbarous spectacles to 
 which these structures were devoted were little suited to a refined 
 people who sought emotion rather in the dramatic development of 
 the passions, in poetic fictions, than in the savage realities of a mas- 
 sacre. The Romans, on the other hand, were greedy for the sanguin- 
 
ROMAN AMPHITHEATRES. 
 
 127 
 
 ary spectacles of Etruria, in the beginning, perhaps, to satisfy certain 
 religious principles, but, in the end, merely to occupy and distract 
 the idle populations of great cities ; and they did not fail to bring 
 to bear on these structures their invariable and peculiar adminis- 
 trative genius, to regulate and give them, as it were, an official char- 
 acter, perfectly suited to the service- for which they were destined, 
 in order to avoid confusion and disorder ; for, in admitting and even 
 sharing in the brutal instincts of the plebeians, the magistrates en- 
 deavored to develop these instincts in an orderly manner and always 
 under their own eyes. It was the policy of government. They did 
 not seek to ameliorate or to stifle the barbarous passions of the peo- 
 ple, but to rule and direct them according to certain ordinances of 
 police, preferring to furnish regular food for these passions rather 
 than to see them develop in riot in the market-places. 
 
 The largest amphitheatre constructed was that known at Rome as 
 the Coliseum ; it could contain one hundred and twenty thousand 
 spectators. But it is a singular fact that this edifice was begun and 
 finished by the two most humane and enlightened of all the Roman 
 emperors, Vespasian and Titus, his son, and it is said that the work 
 was completed in two years and nine months. These two emperors 
 therefore regarded amphitheatres as among those monuments of 
 public utility whose erection was most important to the welfare of 
 Rome. However much the emperors loved vast and splendid monu- 
 ments, it can hardly be admitted that two of the wisest among them 
 would have devoted enormous treasures to construct with such mar- 
 vellous precipitation an edifice of this character, unless its utility had 
 been regarded as urgent indeed. 
 
 The artificial mounds which surrounded the early Italian arenas 
 like a crater, had the double disadvantage of obliging the spectators 
 to mount the outer slope in order to descend to take their places on 
 the inner, and of occupying an undue amount of space with its outer 
 slope of 45 degrees or less. That is to say (Fig. 1 7), in order to ob- 
 tain an arena whose diameter should be equal to A B, A / IT, all the 
 space B C, I) A, A' F, IV E, had to be sacrificed to bank up the 
 earth. In speaking of the baths, the attention of the reader was 
 drawn to the economy with which the Romans occupied land in 
 their structures, limiting the spread of their edifices to the spaces 
 deemed absolutely necessary to satisfy the conditions of the problem. 
 Even in the early days of the republic, Rome was so crowded and 
 
128 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 the public buildings so considerable and numerous, that economy 
 of space became an absolute necessity to the architect in that city. 
 Custom presently converted this into an invariable law among the 
 Romans, even when ample space was available for their buildings. 
 The theatres, which they built after the Greeks, and the amphi- 
 theatres, which they copied from the Italian nations, were at first 
 mere temporary wooden structures, such as are now occasionally 
 constructed in Spain and even in France ; but the frequency of 
 fires, the difficulty of obtaining the necessary quantity of material, 
 
 Fig. 17. 
 
 the ephemeral and unstable character of these structures, soon 
 obliged them to build their amphitheatres of masonry. One of the 
 first thus built was the theatre of Pompey at Rome, now in ruins ; 
 and before long stone amphitheatres were constructed, not only at 
 Rome, but in nearly all the cities of the provinces. 
 
 In constructing their amphitheatres the Romans closely adhered to 
 the type of the primitive terraces ; that is to say, they constructed 
 steps of stone around an elliptical arena, suppressing, however, the 
 exterior slopes, and supplying their place with an upright wall, 
 
CONSTRUCTION OF AMPHITHEATRES. 
 
 129 
 
 pierced with numerous bays in successive stories, so as to establish 
 under the grades of seats such passages and staircases as should 
 enable an immense number of spectators to enter and spread among 
 the seats at various heights, or to leave promptly and without crowd- 
 ing. The staircases regularly arranged around the arena gave access 
 to the seats by openings called vomitories. One must visit the 
 arenas of Arles, Nismes, Verona, and especially the amphitheatre of 
 Vespasian (the Coliseum) at Rome, to form a just idea of these vast 
 monuments, so judiciously combined in general plan and in the 
 numerous details of their construction, — monuments in which we 
 find no lost space, in which everything concurs to carry out a well- 
 understood programme of requirements, — monuments, in fine, com- 
 bined with severe economy, but made to last- forever. Here, better 
 than anywhere else, can we appreciate the cellular system of Roman 
 construction, which consists in elevating and sustaining enormous 
 masses by means of points of support or isolated walls, united to- 
 gether and mutually propped by vaults at different stories. The 
 whole construction of the amphitheatres consists simply of a suc- 
 cession of partition walls all tending towards the centre of the 
 ellipse, and covered by ramping vaults following the slope of the 
 grades of seats and sustaining them. The encompassing wall, 
 strengthened and tied by these numerous buttress-like walls of 
 partition, has little but its own weight to support ; it is, properly 
 speaking, but an envelope which can be removed without interfering 
 with the solidity of the sloping grades, which is the main object to 
 be attained. Indeed, at Verona, this exterior wall is now almost 
 entirely destroyed, yet the amphitheatre remains in a sufficiently 
 good state of preservation to serve still for certain public festivals. 
 
 There is yet to be seen at Pola in Illyria a vast amphitheatre built 
 probably under Diocletian ; here the ranges of seats and the stair- 
 cases were originally of wood, and the exterior elliptical wall was the 
 only portion constructed in stone. It is the primitive amphitheatre 
 of the republic enclosed in masonry. It is probable that this method 
 was often adopted in the provinces, principally in well-wooded coun- 
 tries ; it was a ready and economical means of constructing a monu- 
 ment of the first necessity to the Romans, as it served not only for 
 their games, but for their popular reunions. The amphitheatre of 
 Pola is another example, showing how the Romans always adopted 
 the simplest and most convenient method of carrying out the vast 
 9 
 
130 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 architectural schemes imposed by their civilization ; how they varied 
 their architecture to suit local necessities and circumstances, as re- 
 gards material, time, and resources, without infringing on the condi- 
 tions of the national programme for such structures, which seems to 
 have had all the rigor of a law. The exterior stone wall of this 
 amphitheatre, which is in an excellent state of preservation, is one of 
 the most remarkable examples of Roman architecture, not on account 
 of its details, which are rough, unfinished, and in a bad style, but by 
 reason of the excellent judgment, the characteristic skill and solidity, 
 with which it is built. It is another instance of how little the Ro- 
 man cared for that perfection of form, that refinement and delicate 
 study of details, which was the most characteristic preoccupation of 
 the Greek.* 
 
 The ranges of seats in the amphitheatre of Flavius Vespasian (the 
 Coliseum of Rome) were originally crowned by a gallery or portico 
 of wood, for the especial accommodation of females ; but after this 
 gallery had been destroyed by fire, it was rebuilt in marble with a 
 ceiling of wood by Heliogabalus and Alexander Severus. Of this 
 upper gallery nothing now remains but a few broken columns and 
 capitals. The Coliseum has been made familiar to all by numerous 
 drawings and engravings, and, above all, by the remarkable work 
 of M. Due. Instead, therefore, of entering into a long description 
 of this structure, I would draw your attention simply to certain 
 general dispositions which it exemplified, so that it may be clearly 
 understood how the Romans proceeded when they had a definite 
 programme to carry out. 
 
 That which first strikes us in the Roman amphitheatres is the ellip- 
 tical form of their arenas and encircling ranges of seats. There must 
 have been some good reason for this, as it would have been much 
 simpler both in design and execution to adopt a circular plan. To 
 make the partition walls, bearing the seats and separating the stair- 
 cases, radiate towards the foci of an ellipse, presented a practical 
 difficulty to be carefully avoided unless there was an absolute neces- 
 sity for such an arrangement. Now, in the Roman theatres, the 
 ranges of seats were disposed in a semicircle in front of the stage. 
 It would seem, therefore, that to build an amphitheatre, it would 
 only be necessary to bring together two such semicircles, with the 
 
 * See the general views and details of tlie amphitheatre of Pola in the fourth volume of 
 Stuart’s “Antiquities of Athens.” 
 
THE ELLIPTICAL PLAN OP AMPHITHEATRES. 
 
 131 
 
 two stages or orchestras included between them in the arena. But, 
 observe, the stage of the Greek or Roman theatre was not so con- 
 structed as to bring the eyes of the spectators to a point, for it was 
 a space much more wide than deep along which the actors were 
 necessarily obliged to spread themselves. For the same reason, the 
 arena of the amphitheatre, instead of being made circular, thus al- 
 ways crowding the spectators towards a common centre, presented 
 an oblong space, which, by its shape, compelled the numerous actors 
 in those bloody dramas, which were often but frightful and disorder- 
 ly mêlées of men and savage animals, unconsciously to divide them- 
 selves and widen the scene of combat. This oblong arena not onlv 
 afforded the combatants a larger and more favorable field than a cir- 
 cular one, especially when two masses of men were arrayed against 
 each other, but enabled the spectators to command a distinct view of 
 the various phases of the combat along a somewhat extended line, 
 instead of concentrating their attention on a single point. But thea- 
 tres and amphitheatres were not confined, in their use, to public sports 
 and scenic representations ; these structures were places of popular 
 reunion, where the multitudes were accustomed to gather whenever an 
 oration was to be delivered, an election to be held ; in a word, they 
 were open for all those occasions of public assembly which the 
 political system of the Romans rendered so frequent. 
 
 Let it be clearly understood that I dwell upon this subject in 
 order to illustrate the distinctive characteristic of the Roman build- 
 ing as the result in every case of an exact and carefully studied 
 observation of practical necessity, never, as too often in our days, 
 submitting its dispositions to caprice or to mere conventional rules 
 of architecture, which, in reality, serve but to embarrass and dis- 
 tract the architect from the real issue. In constructing such a vast 
 edifice as the Coliseum, on an elliptical plan, though a thousand prac- 
 tical difficulties presented themselves, difficulties of planning, laying 
 out, and construction, difficulties of general design and of detail, 
 — for while, to construct * a circular building, it would have been 
 necessary to lay out upon paper or upon the site itself merely a 
 quarter, an eighth, or even a sixteenth of the whole as a model for 
 the rest, an elliptical plan required a separate study of a certain 
 number of sections comprising at least a quarter of the whole, — 
 yet, as the conditions of the programme were established on an 
 exact observation of the destination of the structure, the Roman 
 
132 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 architect did not suffer himself to be turned aside by any such 
 perplexities. It is in this respect that the Roman monuments 
 should serve as examples for us, as among no other people have 
 the general dispositions of the plan exercised so absolute a power 
 over the architecture, or, more properly speaking, the structure of 
 their edifices. 
 
 The Roman never felt about in the dark ; it was the sign of a 
 very advanced state of civilization that he submitted everything to 
 common-sense. lie dictated like a master who knew what he wanted 
 and what was necessary ; he made himself obeyed because he made 
 himself understood. Since his time architecture has been less dis- 
 tinctly defined ; governments no longer impose definite tasks on their 
 artists, and the artists must interpret as well as they can the vague 
 ideas suggested to them ; and if, under these circumstances, they can 
 arrive at remarkable results, they cannot attain that strong common- 
 sense, that unity, which is the basis of Roman architecture. At 
 present, notwithstanding our civilization and the power of our in- 
 stitutions, we are in a state of chaos and disorder as regards art; 
 we know not what we want ; and our public buildings, for the 
 most part, are no sooner finished than their deficiencies become 
 evident, and we must needs modify or recommence them at great 
 expense. 
 
 Our artists discuss about style, preoccupy themselves with con- 
 siderations of the architectural order to be used, blame or approve 
 such a form of art, adopt or dismiss such a tradition ; but as for 
 that large and true way of appreciating the architecture which 
 should belong to a great people, they hardly think of this, and 
 are content if they are allowed to use the mouldings they prefer, 
 or to place columns here or pinnacles there. If we are Latins, as 
 has been said, let us at least resemble the Latins in those qualities 
 which distinguished them above all others. Indeed, I very much 
 fear we are more like those Romano-Greeks of Byzantium, who 
 disputed about the Transfiguration while the armies of Mahomet 
 II. were thundering at their ramparts. 
 
 An essential point of difference between the mind of the Greek 
 and that of the Roman consisted in the fact that, while the former 
 allowed himself to be governed by his artistic sentiment to such an 
 extent that he regarded it as a necessity to submit practical re- 
 quirements to the principles of art, the Roman never permitted these 
 
ART AND COMMON-SENSE. 
 
 133 
 
 principles, or, if you please, the love of absolute beauty, to take any 
 such precedence. Let us take a striking example : The Propylæa 
 of Athens or of Eleusis, instead of being treated like the gates of 
 citadels, which they are, would recall, on tlieir exterior faces, the 
 façades of sacred temples, were it not for the three doors pierced 
 in the walls behind the porticos. But the Romans never gave to 
 the entrance of a citadel the appearance of a temple. With them, 
 the form of every editice was the true expression of the purpose to 
 which it was devoted, and if the architectural details, the borrowed 
 decoration, contrasted sometimes with this general form, it had not 
 such importance as to influence the real mass imposed by the pro- 
 gramme. 
 
 We shall see what further developments this principle assumed 
 and into what abuses it finally fell ; for all principles, however 
 good or true they may be, are destined to perish, not so much 
 by abnegation as by misapplication. 
 
 We shall also see presently how, in times when it was intended to 
 reproduce Roman architecture, the essential qualities of that architec- 
 ture were neglected to imitate that which was not essential ; that is, 
 the decorative envelope, to which the Romans attached no other ideas 
 than those of luxury and fashion. 
 
FIFTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 OS TITE METHODS TO HE FOLLOWED IS THE STUDY OF ARCHITECTURE.- OS THE BASILICAS 
 OF THE ROMANS. — OS THE DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE OF THE ANCIENTS- 
 
 HEN we undertake to explore the course of a 
 river, we do not start from its sources, but from 
 its mouth ; we advance against its current and 
 examine its gradually contracting banks. We 
 include all its tributaries in our researches, we 
 study their shores, their rapids and cataracts, and 
 pursue our investigations even to their several fountain-heads. By 
 this means we arrive at a knowledge of the nature of its principal 
 waters, its drift, the causes of its ebb and flow, the wash of its 
 banks, and the character of its sources. 
 
 Now, since, in the modern practice of architecture, purely scientific 
 or technical knowledge is not regarded as sufficient, but the study of 
 the architect must embrace historical precedent, let us examine the 
 stream of time with all the thoroughness of the geographical ex- 
 plorer, and ascertain the origins of the arts and the often-conflicting 
 principles which gave them birth. It has been our fate to come 
 after the Asiatics, the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Mid- 
 dle Ages, the Renaissance ; and, since the nineteenth century, it 
 has been common, therefore, to confound architecture with mere 
 archaeology, and to limit the study of this art to a knowledge of 
 antique precedent and an examination of the practical methods sup- 
 plied by experience and tradition ; this is an unfortunate fact over 
 which we can have no control. Let us, therefore, make the best of 
 it, and when we hear in our schools of art such teachings as this, 
 “ You must study this river, not from its mouth to the sources of all 
 its tributary streams, but from the mouth of this tributary to the 
 
THE STUDY OP ARCHITECTURAL PRECEDENT. 
 
 135 
 
 mouth of that, for it is only in this part of its course that its waters 
 are pure and its banks fertile,” let us reply, “ Not so ; for, if the 
 unexplored portions of the stream above and below the points which 
 you assign as the limits of study were examined, would not the 
 sphere of our observations be so enlarged as to enable us to compare 
 many different features and results, and consequently to form better 
 and less prejudiced opinions ? ” 
 
 The artists of the Renaissance, in their love for heathen antiquity, 
 evinced more enthusiasm than reflection ; they were like those who, 
 having discovered the remains of some buried city, marvel at the 
 beauty of each fragment, and heap them together without order, tak- 
 ing no care to discriminate whether they belong to one or to several 
 monuments, whether they are of the same age, or whether they 
 possess more or less artistic value. Vanity is apt to incline men to 
 regard as particularly precious, not only what they originally produce, 
 but what they happen to be the first to find in their path. “ This 
 pebble is more beautiful than yours, because I picked it up.” Far 
 be it from me to blame this artless sentiment, for, under its inspira- 
 tion, discovery and research have brought to light many a master- 
 piece which otherwise would have been lost to the world ; but when 
 very many of these pebbles have been gathered together, classed, and 
 duly labelled, it is well, perhaps, to distinguish those which are pre- 
 cious stones from those whose only merit is in having been picked 
 out of the dirt. Admiration and enthusiasm are necessary to the N 
 true artist, they inflame him with a proper and wholesome zeal ; but, 
 unless this fire is kindled by worthy objects, it must soon be extin- 
 guished without having produced any other result than a mere tran- 
 sitory and unfruitful passion. He who loves the noble and the pure 
 becomes himself ennobled and purified ; but he who prefers the com- 
 panionship of the vulgar and degraded becomes himself debased. 
 Discrimination and research are therefore of the greatest importance 
 to the youth who enters on the career of art ; but, at the present 
 day, discrimination is difficult in proportion to the greater number 
 of objects to which it must be applied. We have in our libraries 
 and our museums drawings and other reproductions of innumerable 
 monuments, belonging to all ages and all civilizations, but we do not 
 possess a method of appropriation and classification ; for I do not 
 believe we are justified in regarding as such the exclusive preferences 
 and prejudices of those schools and coteries of art among us which 
 
136 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 have no longer the principle of life in them, and whose existence is 
 only manifest in fretfulness and caprice, without aim and therefore 
 without result. 
 
 When archaeological knowledge was less extended and minute 
 than at present, the methods of architecture were comparatively sim- 
 ple, for all education in the arts was necessarily circumscribed by the 
 limits of this knowledge, and fewer side issues were presented to em- 
 barrass the student. Thus, for example, it is useful to observe how 
 the monumental remains of antiquity, and the contemporary writings 
 regarding them, were interpreted by the three centuries preceding the 
 present. The French translators and commentators of Vitruvius in 
 the sixteenth century did not labor to revive the actual appearance 
 of the structures described by that author. The Italian school, suffi- 
 ciently pedantic at that time, aimed to be more antique than the 
 ancients, and restored the monuments of antiquity according to cer- 
 tain conventional rules recognized in that school, but, happily, not 
 known to antiquity, which, like all good epochs of art, Avas unem- 
 barrassed by any such artificial restrictions. Under Louis XIV., Ave 
 find Perrault translating Vitruvius and composing from his text 
 antique monuments Avhose structure is impossible, and Avhose form 
 recalls the bastard architecture of his oavu day. Afterwards, the 
 dislike for mediæval art was so great that certain principles of 
 antique architecture were rejected, simply because the builders of 
 the Middle Ages understood Iioav to use and profit by them. What- 
 ever Ave may say of those distinguished men Avho wrote concerning 
 architecture in the last century, and even at the beginning of this, 
 to us their artlessness and simplicity regarding the classic authori- 
 ties, as Avell as their thoughtless omissions, render them unreliable 
 as archaeologists. Thus the French translators of Vitruvius in the 
 sixteenth century, in illustrating their author, designed Renaissance 
 monuments ; Perrault has given us the architecture of the age of 
 Louis XIV. ; the Italian commentators composed in the style of Vig- 
 nola or Palladio : but none of them produced antique monuments. 
 These men, though they opened the way to archaeological informa- 
 tion, were fortunate enough to be artists and not archaeologists. I 
 am certain that their condition in this respect Avas better than ours ; 
 but, I repeat, wg have not chosen our epoch, Ave were born in it, Ave 
 must take it as it is and live its life. 
 
 It is very important that young architects should be taught to 
 
THE STUDY OF ARCHITECTURAL PRECEDENT. 137 
 
 reason, to habituate their minds to study and analysis. Instead 
 of this, most of them abandon classical studies before they have 
 mastered them, on the principle that, while life is short, the art 
 of architecture is long. Under these circumstances, the architectural 
 student is not in a condition to discriminate wisely and develop 
 well, as would have been more likely to occur if his education had 
 been simple, logical, and directed with a single and definite aim, - — - 
 if, as was the case two centuries ago, he had had to deal only with 
 certain conventional and universally recognized forms of art, or if Ins 
 attention had been exclusively confined to certain authors or monu- 
 ments. But the happy days of such academical restrictions are over, 
 and the professor has no need to fear to see his pupils going hither 
 and thither, picking up good and bad seed outside of the school. 
 At present new objects, giving birth to new ideas, are constantly'' 
 thrust upon our attention. It no longer requires six weeks to go 
 to the eternal city ; Africa and Asia are at our doors ; photography 
 inexhaustibly spreads abroad reproductions of the monuments of 
 human thought and labor in every age and clime. The academical 
 method of instruction in architecture, Avise and sensible in the time 
 of Louis XIV., for which it Avas made, is now invaded upon every 
 side. Architectural works, which fifty years ago would scarcely fill a 
 single shelf in our libraries, hoav crowd an entire room. Every pupil 
 possesses or can possess elements of information Avhich formerly Avere 
 concealed in the cabinets of masters and exhibited only to the elect. 
 The old barriers of academical exclusiveness, in spite of the eloquent 
 protestations of the schools, are overthrown and trampled under foot; 
 they are lost in a flood of written, engraved, photographed, and 
 moulded productions, Avhich fill our cities and surprise the pupils 
 even in the studio of the master, undermining his systems, contra- 
 dicting his instructions, and attacking his principles. What then 
 must be done? Must Ave prevent the publication of books, photo- 
 graphs, and engravings, and forbid the architectural student from 
 availing himself of the steamboat or railway to see Avith his own 
 eyes Avhat has been done in his art in all time and in every country ? 
 Must Ave go back to the stage-coach or post-chaise ; must Ave establish 
 a cordon sanitaire around the school of art, and cloister the pupils 
 there? It seems to me there remains to us only this alternative, 
 or else to assume our task resolutely, and make use of all that Avhich 
 our oaati times have so abundantly throAvn into our hands. If Ave 
 cannot arrest the torrent, let us make for it a bed. 
 
133 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 In the midst of so many books, prints, and photographs repro- 
 ducing the arts of the past, it is indeed a singular illusion to suppose 
 that the student can entirely overlook the works of five or six centu- 
 ries, and that he will not be fascinated by them and study them ; 
 instead of trying to prevent this, it seems to me much wiser to en- 
 deavor to teach him how to discriminate among them, what to take 
 and what to throw aside. Yet, to review one by one all the monu- 
 ments of antiquity, of the Middle Ages, and of the Renaissance, to 
 describe them to the pupil, to point out to him what we consider their 
 several beauties or blemishes, however scrupulously the task may be 
 performed, is evidently not the proper way to indicate what should 
 be received and what rejected ; this would simply be communicating 
 the personal ideas of the master, and coidd only result in confusing 
 minds prompt to seize on appearances and to be fascinated by forms, 
 without accounting for the reason of their existence. It is therefore 
 by teaching youth to reason on that which he sees, by instilling in 
 him the great principles of truth, immutable in all arts and all times, 
 that we can aid him in his efforts to guide himself safely through 
 this flood of examples, and can enable him to discriminate with 
 wisdom and justice. But it must not be forgotten that, if possible, 
 there is something more dangerous to art than confusion ; it is 
 sophistry. While we, as artists, desire to look, each one only out of 
 his own narrow window, and hope to persuade our pupils that this 
 commands the only favorable prospect, the republic of arts is filled 
 with amateurs, more zealous than enlightened, who, without any 
 practical acquaintance with the arts, pretend to know the true path 
 and to show it to all. One has seen the Parthenon, or has cleared 
 away a few courses of stone in some buried monument of antiquity ; 
 he knows nothing about the church of his own village, yet he would 
 persuade you that Greek art is the only one suited to our needs. 
 Another has been shut up in his own province, and pretends that 
 his cathedral alone possesses the Christian sentiment. A third re- 
 gards the architecture of this world as beginning under Augustus 
 and ending under Constantine. A fourth declares that the architects 
 of the Renaissance alone knew how to take up the productions of 
 antique art, and that we must exclusively devote ourselves to the 
 consideration of their work. Each will sustain his position by the 
 most persuasive and convincing arguments, but none of them will 
 be reasonable, because none have ever known how to lay one stone 
 
ON THE CHOICE OF STYLE. 
 
 139 
 
 upon another, how to frame a beam, or to discriminate between the 
 proper employment of brick or stone. Each school of artists 
 applauds that particular sophistry which flatters its own passion 
 or interest, and forgets that, in abandoning itself thus to the judg- 
 ment of people without practical acquaintance with art, other judges 
 will arise to-morrow to condemn with as little authority. Let us 
 manage our own affairs, and try to understand each other, though, 
 in truth, it is said that this is no easy task among men of the same 
 profession. Yet, as we must all submit to the same laws, we ought 
 to know what they allow and what they forbid. 
 
 Let it not be understood that I am protesting against all un- 
 professional criticism. We ought to listen to public opinion, for I 
 aim not to make of the body of architects an exclusive sect, interdict- 
 ing all outside examination or criticism of its doctrines or its works. 
 I desire only that, in the midst of an actual anarchy as regards art, 
 the various schools or fractions of schools should, in order to increase 
 their influence, lean upon something more substantial than opinions 
 uttered by amateurs, more or less enlightened, should have recourse 
 rather to common-sense, founded upon experience, than to shallow 
 theories and generalities about the different styles of art ; for often a 
 single word from a practical man will destroy a whole system of mere 
 superficial reasoning. I anticipate what will be said to me here (and 
 it will not be for the first time) : “ You reduce the part of the archi- 
 tect to the part of the mason ; you give too much importance to the 
 practical ; architecture is something more than the mere art of accu- 
 mulating and putting together material in a solid and workman-like 
 manner ; it is the sister of music and poetry ; it should leave much 
 to the imagination, to inspiration and taste ; its material laws should 
 be even made subordinate to the same divine afflatus which inspires 
 the musician and the poet.” It may be so ; yet the musician, however 
 inspired he may be, if he does not understand the rigorous laws of 
 harmony, produces but an abominable jingle ; and the poet, however 
 possessed by the muse, if he knows neither grammar nor prosody, had 
 better keep his poetry to himself. But, if everybody can detect bad 
 grammar or an ill-made verse, if all ears are offended at a discord or 
 a false note, it is unhappily not the same with architecture. Very few 
 recognize a fault of proportion or scale, an error of construction, or a 
 disregard of even the most vulgar rules of practice. Sheltered be- 
 hind this common ignorance, all kinds of licenses are allowed, and 
 
140 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 they confront ns at every turn. It is not every one who can execute 
 an opera or edit a classic ; and, if the experiment should be tried, 
 the director or the publisher would soon have cause to regret that 
 he had given to this one the use of his theatre and to that the use of 
 his presses. But every one can, in a manner, pass for an architect, 
 can build ; and the public, unfamiliar with the art, will not hesitate 
 to approve a conception without reason, or harmony of form. 
 
 We may differ totally concerning the manner of expressing our 
 ideas in architecture, on the form we would give to our conceptions, 
 but we all agree as to the value of rules imposed by common-sense, 
 by experience, and by the undeviating laws of statics. Let us, there- 
 fore, in this question of architectural education, begin by establish- 
 ing this agreement, not by unnecessarily raising questions of form 
 or style which, after all, have but a secondary importance. Let us 
 teach how every true period of art has endeavored to follow these 
 invariable laws, how a given schedule of requirements should be re- 
 ceived and interpreted by the architect, and let us not post before the 
 eyes of youth our individual preferences and prejudices, which, as 
 they are founded neither upon reason nor upon taste, only confuse 
 the public, when they are expressed in actual buildings, and present 
 results which can satisfy neither the fancy nor the superficial knowl- 
 edge of the multitude. I desire that this appeal for concord may be 
 understood ; it would be understood, if every architect, instead of 
 imputing to his brother the notions with which he is vulgarly 
 supposed to be imbued, would examine his true opinions. If this 
 desirable mutual understanding were attained, instruction, instead 
 of declining and falling into confusion, would certainly arise to a 
 much higher level. The youth, who, under the present system or 
 no-system, takes sides with a blind passion, exaggerating the points 
 of difference between conflicting schools, would know that, in our 
 art, there is one sure path, that indicated by wisdom and by reason ; 
 let us not seduce him to the sentiments of this or that school by 
 absolving him from the necessity of that serious and catholic study, 
 that toilsome and material investigation, by which alone he can 
 arrive at broad ideas and free himself from dangerous prejudice. 
 I do not pretend that architecture is simply an art of reasoning, a 
 pure science, in a word ; but, as it is in peril, we must hasten to 
 the point where there is the greatest danger. When the house is 
 on fire, we do not stop to discuss whether it is built according to the 
 
THE APPEAL TO REASON. 
 
 141 
 
 rules of Vitruvius or in the mediaeval spirit, but we run for water. 
 I have already explained why we should not, in the present day, en- 
 deavor to make one form or style of art prevail over another. Our 
 duty is not to create preferences or exclusions, but to appeal to 
 reason, to analysis, the science of classing and selecting after having 
 compared ; this is architectural instruction in a practical path, with- 
 out exclusions, preferences, or vain theories. We live no longer in a 
 time when entire ages of history can be effaced ; and if some tardy 
 professors still believe that their silence regarding certain epochs is a 
 service rendered to art, they labor under a melancholy delusion ; this 
 very silence provokes research, this very provocation leads to exag- 
 geration of the value of the results of such research. To pretend to 
 conceal a thing which is in the reach of everybody, to overlook or dis- 
 dain a general sentiment, is the folly of all systems in their decline , 
 in politics, it is the origin of violent revolutions ; in the sciences and 
 arts, it is a door open to extravagances, to audacious ignorance, to 
 thoughtless reactions, to confusion and forgetfulness of elementary 
 principles. In times of transition and new birth, like our own, I 
 believe the only way of assisting in this birth (and what more can we 
 do?) is to examine everything in good faith and without passion, to 
 balance accounts, as it were, with the state of our knowledge thus 
 acquired ; if we, mere atoms lost, in the common flood, pretend to 
 direct in this great movement, I believe it should be only by the 
 use of our best guide, our reason, our faculty of comparing and 
 deducing. If this guide is not infallible, it has at least the qual- 
 ity of illuminating every step of the road and of enabling those who 
 follow it to recognize and rectify their errors. This is less danger- 
 ous than silence, for silence is obscurity, and in obscurity every one 
 stumbles. 
 
 To conclude, I will add, then : First, that the time has come when 
 to direct exclusive attention to any particular period of art is no 
 longer permissible ; to insist upon that which we take for good 
 and wise doctrine, is to try to circumscribe the spirit of youth with- 
 in certain limits, which, though they might have been large enough 
 a hundred vears ago, when the knowledge of architectural forms was 
 restricted, do not exist to-day ; it is to perpetuate a sad confusion, to 
 deny an enormous mass of information acquired, of researches and 
 useful works. Second, that, in the state of doubt into which the 
 best minds have fallen with regard to doctrine, it is not so much 
 
142 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 the various forms and styles of art which are to be taught, as its 
 invariable principles, that is to say, the reasons why certain styles, 
 structures, and methods existed at certain times rather than others, 
 and how transformations and modifications of style accompanied 
 changes in national manners and requirements ; but the things to be 
 rejected are vague theories, all systems which are based upon tra- 
 ditions and are not evolved from a logical chain of practical necessi- 
 ties, and all those formulas which are claimed to be inviolable, but 
 which were never used during the really brilliant epochs of art. 
 When faith is wanting to men (I mean true, indisputable faith), 
 reason, the sentiment of truth and justice, remains our only guide ; 
 the instrument is imperfect, I am aware, but it is better to use this 
 than to have none at all. Modern pride has replaced the fatality 
 of classic antiquity and the resignation of the Middle Ages. Let 
 us, in the republic of the arts, have in view this change in the 
 spirit of civilization, which, in politics, has already had its influence. 
 It is encouraging to see that the leaders of the various architectural 
 schools, who accuse us of aiming to drag the mind backward, are 
 acting as perhaps the Athenian magistrates or the mediaeval corpora- 
 tions acted in view of the logical developments of art in their times, 
 and that Ave, too, are obliged to claim the independence of reason in 
 the arts. Voltaire described many similar contradictions of his time ; 
 Ave, therefore, need not despair of the future. 
 
 It is, therefore, I think, by reasoning that the present generation 
 of architects must Avork ; and I am convinced that, by habituating 
 themselves to reasoning, they can purify their taste. Every man aa t 1io 
 is born an artist possesses his art by intuition, but this intuition can 
 only be successfully developed by calculation and experience. It is 
 a curious phenomenon of mental philosophy that Ave OAve much more 
 to induction than to intuition for neAV ideas. Thus, if Ave would have 
 an architecture of our own, Ave must stir up ideas, not stifle them ; by 
 the aid of our reason, Ave must examine them on all sides, we must 
 prove them by comparison and by attrition. The ancients had an 
 advantage over us in not possessing such an enormous mass of prece- 
 dents as we are obliged to keep in view ; they also had the benefit 
 of an education in perfect harmony Avith their social state, while ours 
 is but a crude and undigested accumulation of old traditions Avhich 
 no one believes, and of ucav sciences which are in manifest contradic- 
 tion with those traditions. 
 
THE BASILICA. 
 
 143 
 
 Let men enjoy their inestimable privilege of grumbling over the 
 degeneracy of our era as much as they will ; but, for me, this cen- 
 tury is as good as another, and I am willing to take it as it is. If 
 every one were ready to do as much, it would have its original devel- 
 opment of art ; to this end we have only to avail ourselves of our fac- 
 ulty of reasoning, and to cease to act as if we believed that wc are 
 still living under Louis XIV., and that M. Lebrun is still superin- 
 tendent of the tine arts in France. 
 
 In our preceding Discourse, we treated of the vaulted structures of 
 the Romans, that is to say, of structures which are the evident ex- 
 pression of the peculiarly Roman ideas of duration, possession, and 
 power. But the genius of this people was manifested in buildings of 
 quite a different character. At the close of the republic and at the 
 beginning of the empire the Romans were not yet inspired by that 
 feeling of incontestable superiority, which, at a later day, led them to 
 adopt, in their civil constructions, certain uniform methods, which 
 they imposed upon all nations without regard to local habits or for- 
 eign influences. The treatise of Vitruvius, though quite Roman in 
 spirit, and though betraying a fondness for formulas, indicates still 
 the existence of a certain liberty in the art of building, even under 
 the empire, — a liberty which we should study with the greatest at- 
 tention. In this connection let us glance at the plan and structure 
 of the Roman basilica. 
 
 The name basilica is Greek, and signifies the royal house. It is 
 probable that this word originally came from Asia, and that it is to 
 the successors of Alexander, to the Macedonian kings established in 
 the East, that we owe the structure thus designated. It was appar- 
 ently their divan , the place where they administered justice. Vitru- 
 vius makes no distinction between the Greek and Roman basilica ; 
 but we have already had occasion to observe that Vitruvius does not 
 appear to have had any exact idea of Greek architecture and of its 
 details. He contents himself with remarking “ that the basilica, 
 annexed to the forum or market-place, should be situated in the 
 warmest exposure, in order that the merchants who frequent it in 
 the winter season may not be incommoded by the cold.” He adds, 
 “ that its width should never be less than a third nor more than a 
 half of its length, unless the nature of the site should impose a dif- 
 ferent proportion. Here Vitruvius, according to his custom, lays 
 
144 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 down certain formulas of proportion, which were not generally fol- 
 lowed and which he himself was the first to disregard in his own 
 basilica of Fano. “ If,” says he again, “ the site has greater length 
 (that is, if the length is more than three times its width), the super- 
 fluous space should be occupied by chalcidica or subordinate apart- 
 ments annexed to the extremities, as has been done at the basilica 
 of Julia Aquiliana ; the columns of the basilica should be as high as 
 the portico (or aisle) is wide, and the width of this should be a third 
 of the space in the midst (the nave) ; the columns of the upper part 
 must be smaller than those of the lower. It is proper to give to the 
 screen or platens, erected between the upper columns, a quarter less 
 than the height of those columns, so that those who promenade in the 
 upper galleries may not be seen by the merchants who congregate 
 below. As for the architraves, friezes, and cornices, their proportions 
 must be deduced from the columns, as we have indicated in the third 
 book.” * In translating this passage, I have kept as near as possible 
 to the Latin text, which is clear and precise, but not very comprehen- 
 sive. Indeed, Vitruvius does not tell us whether this monument is 
 surrounded by a wall, if it is enclosed, or how it is covered ; in these 
 respects his text leaves us in a state of complete uncertainty. But 
 when he describes the basilica of Fano, whose construction he him- 
 self directed, he mentions walls, and dwells at some length on the 
 arrangement of the columns, on their proportions and the devices 
 he employed in establishing the upper gallery ; but, as I have already 
 remarked, strangely enough, he disregarded, both in general concep- 
 tion and in details, all the rules he himself lays down. 
 
 His description of this basilica runs as follows, and it is well to 
 observe that, in speaking of the covering ( testuclo ), it is certain from 
 the sequel that he referred, not to a vault of brick or rubble, but to 
 a roof of timber : “ The length of the vault between the columns is 
 one hundred and twenty feet, its width sixty ; the portico (or aisle), 
 which surrounds the principal nave, is twenty feet wide between the 
 columns and the walls ; the columns, including their capitals, are, in 
 all, fifty feet high, and are five feet in diameter ; they have behind 
 them pilasters, twenty feet high and two and a half feet wide. 
 These sustain the beams on which are laid the floors of the gal- 
 leries over the aisles. Above these pilasters are others, eighteen 
 feet high, two feet wide and one thick, to receive the longitudinal 
 
 * Vitruvius, Book V. 
 
THE BATHS OF ANTONINUS CARACALLA. 
 
 RESTORATION OF THE FRIGIDARIUM. 
 
 
THE BASILICA OF FANO. 
 
 145 
 
 beams or lintels oil which rest the upper ends of the rafters of 
 the lean-to roof over the galleries, which roof is lower than the 
 vault (the covering of the nave). The spaces between these 'longi- 
 tudinal beams, and those resting on the columns higher up, are 
 left open between the capitals to give light to the interior.” 
 
 The conciseness of this last passage renders the text obscure. I 
 shall presently endeavor to explain the arrangement to which he 
 refers. 
 
 “ On each of the two short sides of the basilica are four columns ; 
 on the long side towards the forum there are eight, including in all 
 cases the columns in the corners ; but on the opposite long side, 
 looking towards the forum and the temple of Jupiter, there are but 
 six, the two in the middle being omitted in order to leave open the 
 view of the entrance hall (pronaos) of the temple of Augustus, 
 which is adjacent to that side. In the temple of Augustus is the 
 tribunal in the form of the arc of a circle fifteen feet deep and for- 
 ty-six wide. This tribunal is so placed in order that the mer- 
 chants, who throng the basilica, may not interfere with the litigants 
 in the presence of the magistrates. Upon the columns is laid a 
 wooden architrave made of three beams two feet thick, stretching 
 all around the enclosure to the aforesaid opening, and there return- 
 ing against the wall ends of the pronaos so as to rest upon the 
 antæ or pilasters on either side. On these architraves and in the 
 axis of each column are laid blocks three feet, high and four feet 
 square, on which rest wall-plates carefully joined and made of beams 
 two feet thick, sustaining the ends of the tie-beams and principal 
 rafters. On these is laid the roof of the basilica and of the pronaos, 
 on the outside forming the covering of the structure, and on the in- 
 side the vault or ceiling. This method of construction spares much 
 labor and expense, for it dispenses with all the features of the en- 
 tablature above the architrave as well as the upper order of columns 
 with their pilasters. This single order of columns, moreover, directly 
 supporting the roof, adds much to the majesty and dignity of the 
 whole structure.” 
 
 5 itruvius, naturally enough, maintains that his work is good, and, 
 indeed, he seems to me to display excellent judgment. At all events, 
 he illustrates sufficiently well that the ancients, in their architectural 
 compositions, possessed that quality of freedom from academical re- 
 straints which is a distinguishing attribute of all good epochs of 
 10 
 
146 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 art. A half-century ago Vitruvius, judged by the rules of architec- 
 ture as then understood, would not have obtained even a notice in 
 the school of tine arts for his design of the basilica of Fano ; nay, 
 he would have been ruled out of the competition ; he would have 
 been put back to the lowest seats to learn Roman architecture accord- 
 ing to Vignola or Palladio ! What heresy, what disregard of all es- 
 tablished rules, not to place a complete entablature on his columns ! 
 to surmount their capitals with wooden lintels and props bearing a 
 wooden roof ! to build pilasters against the backs of the columns ! 
 Twenty-five years ago the basilica of Fano would have passed as the 
 work of the Romantic school ; and I think I remember that when 
 there happened to be occasion to mention this edifice, professors 
 would drop the subject and sigh as one might do when contemplat- 
 ing the sad errors into which men of the greatest genius sometimes 
 fall. But what are we to do when we find that the only special 
 author left us by antiquity, in the edifice which he himself con- 
 structed and the only one of which he left a description, abandoned 
 the rules which he himself had laid down, and which afterward 
 were so carefully transcribed in the books of the Renaissance archi- 
 tects, who, in their turn, neglected to observe them in practice ? 
 Does it result from this that architecture is an art whose forms are 
 arbitrary but whose principles are invariable? Have we been on 
 the wrong track for the last two centuries in adopting certain forms 
 as invariable, as the final expression of correct taste, and in neglect- 
 ing to concern ourselves about those principles to which the an- 
 cients themselves, from whom we have taken the forms, attached 
 the greatest importance ? And if this is the case, were not the archi- 
 tects of the Middle Ages, who were so faithful to their principles and 
 so free in their adoption of forms, much nearer the spirit of antiquity 
 than was the great classic century of the Renaissance ? What a 
 shock is this to all the ideas we have inherited from that period ! 
 And how unfortunate for some modern architects that they cannot 
 claim for such venerable blunders the same right of prescription as 
 gives title to property of doubtful tenure by virtue of long usage ! 
 
 There are certain points in the description by Vitruvius of his 
 basilica of Fano which merit the serious study of all those who do 
 not hold absolutely to rules laid down by theorists but disregarded 
 by practitioners. These are : the position of the chalcidicum or tri- 
 bunal on one of the long sides ; the single interior order divided by 
 
THE BASILICA OF FANO. 
 
 147 
 
 the gallery floor ; the absence of a complete entablature ; the support 
 of the gallery floor and its roof by pilasters against the backs of the 
 columns ; the manner in which the capitals rise above the gallery 
 roof, and, allowing the light to enter between them, support a wood- 
 en architrave with dies of stone and all the timbers of an open roof. 
 And yet Vitruvius, rationalist that he is, and in the face of all our 
 classical rules, says that he adopted these dispositions to spare trouble 
 and expense ! Writing in the midst of the very reign of Augustus, 
 he enters a candid protest against the Roman cornice. The doc- 
 trines held sacred in our classical schools of art were, therefore, not 
 in vogue in the classical era. Architecture still preserved that lib- 
 erty, that adaptability to all the uses of life, which, among the Greeks 
 and in the last days of the Roman republic, were its loveliest fea- 
 tures ; it was still in the hands of artists, and had not yet replaced 
 art by formulas, or become a mere appendage to the great adminis- 
 trative and political machine of the Roman empire. 
 
 Plate VIII., which gives the plan, and Plate IX., which gives the 
 section of the basilica of Pano, are drawn faithfully according to the 
 definite descriptions and dimensions left us by its author. 
 
 In order that the arrangement of the pilasters against the backs 
 of the columns may be understood, the reader is referred to Pig. 18. 
 
 At A is the base, which was not yet laid upon that square plinth, 
 which, at a later period, was always used in the Ionic, Corinthian, 
 and composite orders of the Romans. At B is the capital of the 
 pilaster supporting the floor of the gallery, with the notch above to 
 receive the longitudinal beam C, indicated in the section D. E is 
 the upper pilaster, and on its sides are the mortise-holes to receive 
 the tenons of the wooden balustrade P, which takes the place of the 
 stone screen, which was used in basilicas where one order was super- 
 imposed on another. At G is the capital of the upper pilaster, des- 
 tined to support the wooden plate or purlin II (see section D), which 
 acts as a ridge for the rafters of the lean-to roof K over the gallery. 
 The shaft of the column under the capital is grooved to allow this 
 purlin to pass and to cover the ridge-tiles of terra-cotta to pre- 
 vent leakage. L represents the purlin with its rafters, covered at 
 first with flat square bricks and then with tiles, M, with their 
 cove-joints and ridge-tiles, the latter, N N', decorated on the sides 
 facing the interior. The capital, B, is copied from one of the beauti- 
 ful capitals of the age of Augustus deposited in the museum of 
 
148 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 St. John Lateran. 0 is the triple wooden architrave which it 
 supports. 
 
 All this is so clear in the text, that but little effort is needed to 
 explain it by figures. With regard to the system of carpentry 
 
 adopted in the roof, it must be admitted that Vitruvius is less 
 explicit, and unfortunately there exist no antique specimens which 
 we can use as examples. Moreover, the disposition of the plan is 
 such as singularly to complicate the construction. Vitruvius takes 
 care to inform us that he suppressed two columns in front of the 
 pronaos or entrance of the temple of Augustus, in which the tribunal 
 was placed, and that from each of the columns left on either side he 
 carried the wooden architrave at right angles against the wall so as 
 to rest on the opposite pilaster or anta of the pronaos. He further tells 
 us that the principal nave returns at right angles, like a transept, 
 against the entrance of the temple, and that his system of carpentry 
 is strengthened by tie-beams, is panelled on the inside, and has two 
 water-sheds or slopes on the outside which are continued at right 
 angles over the pronaos. The basilica is very wide (fifty-eight feet 
 five inches, English measure), and its roof would therefore require a 
 truss at least over each opposite pair of columns across the nave ; but 
 diagonal trusses over the open space in front of the pronaos would 
 be inadmissible, not only on account of their disagreeable appear- 
 ance, but by reason of their want of solidity. Now the plan traced 
 by Vitruvius is such as, according to the ancient custom of fram- 
 ing, would admit of but one system in the support of the roof, and 
 this, as I have suggested, must consist of a series of trusses extending 
 across the .building between the opposite columns of the nave, the 
 ends of the two trusses opposite the pronaos resting on the tie-beams 
 of a double truss perpendicular to the first and bearing the same re- 
 lation to the pronaos or transept as the other trusses do to the nave. 
 These tie-beams should be prolongations of the wall-plates, which 
 rest on the blocks over the columns which flank the pronaos on 
 either side, and should be firmly suspended to the principal rafters 
 of the longitudinal truss by hanging ties and strongly supported by 
 corbels. 1 have endeavored to illustrate this singular construction in 
 Plate X., conforming as far as possible to the principles of carpentry 
 indicated in the antique paintings of Pompeii and in the bas-reliefs 
 of Trajan’s column. But besides these, the systems of timber con- 
 struction used by the mediaeval builders are a precious assistance to 
 
Fig. 18. 
 
THE BASILICA UNDER THE EMPIRE. 
 
 149 
 
 those who would understand the systems adopted by the Romans. 
 Of all the methods of construction, framing certainly has adhered 
 most closely to ancient traditions, for even in the most barbarous 
 times it was used in the West, and the Gauls, even in the time of 
 Cæsar, were regarded as very skilful in this art. It must be under- 
 stood that such open timber roofs as are indicated in Plate N. were 
 covered partly by panelled work, according to the Roman habit, as is 
 indicated in the drawing. It is probable that the ends of the nave 
 were not covered by hip roofs, which would have complicated the 
 construction, and would not have been according to antique usage, 
 but by open wooden gables, as indicated in Plates IX. and X. 
 
 Prom the remains of the ancient basilicas, and from the description 
 of the edifice at Fano, we are justified in drawing another proof of the 
 great liberty enjoyed by architects in the time of Augustus in the 
 construction of these public monuments. 
 
 The Greek monuments of the basilica type, though few in number, 
 present certain singular dispositions which were not imitated by the 
 Romans. Thus, the basilica of Pæstum and that of Thoricus have 
 a spine of columns on the main axis, affording two central aisles or 
 interior ambulatories besides the outer aisles. These edifices re- 
 semble rather open markets than the closed basilicas of the Romans, 
 from which they also differed in having no place for the tribunal. 
 Now the Romans under the empire hastened to give their basilicas 
 the same degree of magnificence that distinguished all their other 
 public monuments. The basilica situated on the forum of Trajan, 
 built at Rome by a celebrated architect, Apollodorus of Damas, was 
 a monument as remarkable for its great size as for the richness of its 
 decorations. This basilica, whose remains may still be seen, and 
 whose exterior facades are given to us on certain ancient medals, 
 was composed of a nave and two aisles on each side, bearing the 
 galleries on the first story. The tribunal was a vast semicircle whose 
 diameter was equal to the whole width of the nave and aisles 
 together, and the aisles as well as the galleries were continued in 
 front of it. A single entrance, with a portico and vestibule, Avas 
 opened at the opposite extremity to the tribunal, and three entrances 
 on the south opened on the forum of Trajan. In a little court ex- 
 tending along the face of the basilica opposite the forum was the 
 celebrated column erected by the senate and the people of Rome 
 in honor of that prince. Upon this court opened two libraries for 
 
150 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Greek and Latin books, communicating with the basilica by two 
 doors at either extremity of the north Avail. The brick walls of 
 the basilica were covered, at least in their lower parts, with a thick 
 hieing of white marble. The interior columns were of gray granite, 
 with Corinthian capitals and bases of white marble. The ceiling 
 was composed of plates of gilded bronze. The three principal 
 southern porches on the forum were, according to ancient medals, 
 crowned by four-horse chariots and statues. The pavement, still 
 visible, was composed of great slabs of antique yellow and violet 
 marble. It is certain that this structure was not vaulted, but was 
 covered with a wooden roof. 
 
 It is a question whether the tribunal was covered, and if by a 
 vault, composed of the quarter of a hollow sphere, how this vault 
 accommodated itself to the galleries and the Avails Avliich they sus- 
 tained. The commonly received forms of the basilica seem to con- 
 flict with that great half-circle Avhich occupied almost the entire 
 Avidth of the nave and aisles. It does not seem possible to construct 
 such an arrangement, unless the interval between the naves and the 
 tribunal Avas open to the sky. HoAvever Ave may suppose the basil- 
 ica and its Avooden roof were constructed, Ave can form no plausible 
 theory regarding the manner in which the latter could abut against 
 the vault over the tribunal. 
 
 As I desire to abstain from mere hypotheses, I do not propose to 
 discuss this question, and I only cite this example to sIioav how, in 
 certain cases, the Romans varied their conceptions, Avithout failing to 
 observe meamvhile the general conditions of the problem as imposed 
 by their social state. An explanation of the difficulties to which Ave 
 have referred concerning the structure of the basilica of the forum 
 of Trajan can perhaps he found by comparing the Persian palaces, 
 which always have at one end of their porticoed courts a semicir- 
 cular projection relatively of great dimensions, and covered by a 
 vault composed of the quarter of a sphere. It is Avell known that 
 the modern East has preserved many Roman traditions in its struc- 
 tures ; and even at the present day many edifices, like mosques, or 
 bazaars, or the Palais-Royal at Paris, resemble the Roman basilicas, 
 not only in the multiplicity of the uses to Avhich they are devoted, 
 hut in their interior richness. Such edifices are apt to OAve their 
 existence to the vanity of sovereigns Avho have desired to attach their 
 names to durable and splendid public works designed to attract 
 
DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE OF THE ROMANS. 
 
 151 
 
 crowds and to bring the people together. Certainly this class of 
 buildings did not first arise in a republic. Whatever was the na- 
 ture of the Greek basilica, it is essential to establish a distinction 
 between this and that of the Romans. I have already remarked 
 that, as regards architectural composition, the Romans really took 
 from the Greeks only that of their temples ; but all other buildings 
 belonging to the public service, all civil structures, originated with 
 them ; they created and modified their plans according to their 
 needs, and their basilicas, being destined for different uses and these 
 uses severally varying in importance according to time and place, 
 were subject to a corresponding variety of treatment. But we must 
 not lose sight of the fact that the essential architectural characteris- 
 tics, the types of the public monuments of the empire, remained 
 unchanged from the time of Augustus. Yet a principle, however 
 absolute it may be, must, in application, assume various forms, as was 
 afterwards signally proved in the cathedrals of the Middle Ages. 
 
 But our art is concerned not only with public works. If we have 
 but a vague idea of the domestic architecture of the Greeks, that 
 of the Romans is sufficiently familiar to us to prove that here also 
 there is a wide field open for our instruction. 
 
 It cannot be too often repeated that, during all epochs of known 
 history, an intimate relation has existed between the manners, cus- 
 toms, laws, and religion of nations, and their arts. Posterity must 
 judge whether our epoch is an exception to this rule ; but it is cer- 
 tain that, during that period of Roman antiquity, for example, com- 
 prised between the end of the republic and the fall of the empire, 
 architecture closely followed the various movements of Roman soci- 
 ety. In the Fourth Discourse we dwelt on the methods pursued by 
 architects during the imperial period, because it was only at that 
 time that the arts of Rome were truly Roman ; yet how interesting is 
 the study of the relations between the national arts and manners 
 toward the end of the republic ! How charming that transitional 
 architecture, which, no longer Greek, was hardly yet imperial ! For- 
 tunate era for the arts, when a Cicero, a Lucullus, a Servius Claudi- 
 us, a Sallust, lived to make it illustrious ! Without doubt, the house 
 of Cicero at Tusculum Avas but a modest dAvelling compared with 
 the magnificent villas of the emperors and their favorites ; yet what a 
 delicious perfume of art lingers around those beloved w<H Is of the last 
 citizen of the republic ! What treasures of elegance, what charming 
 
152 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ideas of household comforts, are suggested in those letters of his, in 
 which, with refined taste, he expressed his interest regarding the em- 
 bellishment of his villa ! lie concerned himself little about costly 
 marbles and paintings, nor did he speak of his country-seat with the 
 ostentation of the man of wealth who desires luxury only that he may 
 outshine his neighbors ; but he had much to say of his homelike 
 comforts, of the advantages of his situation, and of the collections of 
 objects of art which he had arranged about him with affectionate 
 zeal. Though quite as much a Greek as a Roman, he did not argue 
 about forms or styles of art ; yet it is evident that he had a nice 
 appreciation. As an evidence of the confidence he reposed in his 
 architect and the respect he had for the decisions of the artist to 
 whom he confided the building of his villa, it is interesting to read 
 what he said in one of his friendly letters to Atticus : “ Now, if 
 my friends fancy that my windows are too narrow, Cyrus, my archi- 
 tect, is ready to meet the objection, and will at once explain how 
 large windows opening on a garden do not offer to the eye so agree- 
 able a perspective as narrower windows. You can imagine his argu- 
 ment : Let A, he will say, be the eye which sees, 13 and C the object 
 seen, D and E the rays which pass from the eye to the object, and so 
 on.” This unfinished demonstration is quite Greek in character, and 
 it is evident that Cicero only repeated here the remark of his archi- 
 tect, who was probably a Greek, and whose argument seemed to 
 have interested him but little. He added, further on, after an epi- 
 gram addressed to the Epicureans (to which sect Atticus belonged) : 
 “ If you find anything else in my house to criticise, I shall always be 
 supplied with reasons quite as good to give you in reply, unless, in- 
 deed, I can remedy the difficulty at a small expense.” It would not 
 be easy to cite a passage explaining in a more natural way the char- 
 acter of the relations existing between the first Roman citizen of the 
 republic, a man of pure taste and refined mind, and his architect. 
 It is evident that the most polite Romans of that time were passion- 
 ately fond of the arts ; but as they were wise enough to understand 
 that in this respect the Greeks were their masters, they believed that 
 they could not do better than 'refer all questions on the subject to 
 them. Thus Cicero wrote to his friend, who was living in Greece, 
 to buy some statues for him there, and to take care that they arrived 
 in good condition. 
 
 It is, indeed, unfortunate that we have so few remains left from 
 
RELATIONS BETWEEN SOCIETY AND ARCHITECTURE. 1 53 
 
 this interesting epoch of transition, when the Greek arts were asso- 
 ciated with the daily routine of Roman life. The architectural „ 
 works of this period must have been distinguished for that elegance 
 which is so much better than richness, and for that freedom of de- . 
 sign of which we find some traces in the description of the basilica 
 of Fa no, but which, under the* emperors, disappeared entirely. Such 
 would be the natural architectural expression of the state of society 
 at the close of the republic, — a society full of contrasts, very civil- 
 ized, very elegant, and still retaining that moral independence of 
 which we can find no evidence in the structures of a later age. In 
 the absence of authentic architectural remains belonging to a period 
 whose social state so nearly resembled our own, but whose intel- 
 lectual condition, it must be admitted, was superior, the careful study 
 of that social state would be fruitful in suggestions and resources 
 for the architect. A comparison of our own national character and 
 history with those of the last days of the Roman republic, together 
 with a study of the few architectural fragments which remain to us 
 from that period, would perhaps develop the means of rescuing our 
 arts from the mire in which they seem to be stuck. But, to arrive 
 at such a result, we must have the courage to admit that our present 
 methods of architectural education are incomplete, that the learned 
 antiquaries who talk or write about architecture are not architects, 
 and that the architects themselves are not sufficiently familiar with 
 the history and customs of antiquity or of the Middle Ages. If we 
 knew what we are and what we have a right to demand of the times 
 in which we live, we might perhaps develop an art of our own. 
 
 The great advantage to be obtained by the student of architecture 
 from the study of antiquity is the elevation of his mind. In order to 
 obtain this result his observation, unlike that of his predecessors for 
 the last two hundred years, must extend beneath the mere superficial 
 forms of the art and penetrate to those things of which they are but 
 the natural expression. He must mix with Grecian and Roman 
 society, Roman especially, so grand, so solidly established, notwith- 
 standing its manifest errors and abuses ; he must not only enter the 
 Roman house, but he must know him who inhabits it, must appre- 
 ciate his tastes and live his life, so that he may comprehend the per- 
 fect harmony existing between the man and his habitation. At the 
 present day, when such harmony does not exist, when all the mem- 
 bers of society make it their business to move out of their respective 
 
154 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 spheres, and to place their real and their apparent existence in 
 contradiction, the task of the architect becomes more and more 
 difficult; for it does not belong to him to set himself up as a 
 moralist to preach social reform, and, still less, to be the mere 
 agent of a sort of sumptuary police. Yet the elevation of the 
 architectural character, the exact knowledge of civilized societies, 
 the good examples and good arguments supplied to the architect 
 out of this knowledge, would have more iiffiuence in giving to 
 him the professional authority which he should exercise than at 
 first seems credible ; it is not by passing a few years at Rome or 
 Athens, by restoring for the thousandth time the theatre of Mar- 
 cellos, the portico of Octavius or the Parthenon, it is not by elabo- 
 rating in his room at the French Academy of Rome an india-ink 
 drawing of the end of an entablature or a capital, that the archi- 
 tectural student, returned to France, is enabled to exercise any 
 influence over the mind of a capricious or indecisive client, and 
 to rest his advice upon such simple and solid reasons, that the 
 client must in the end be persuaded and submit. 
 
 In glancing at the public monuments of the Romans, we have 
 been enabled to appreciate, without prejudice in respect to form or 
 stvle, how largely and scrupulously their great architectural require- 
 ments were met ; how the thing containing explained the thing 
 contained ; how the methods and means of construction in every 
 case were exactly such as the state of society at the time and place 
 was best capable of supplying ; how, in the best periods, luxury and 
 richness of decoration never fell into mere fastidiousness, but, on the 
 contrary, participated in that truly Roman grandeur which was with- 
 out pompousness or affectation. But when we descend to examine 
 into the private life of the Roman citizen and see him in his home, 
 we behold a singular contrast. If he was rich enough to build a 
 theatre, a portico, or public baths, he adopted the official architec- 
 ture, as it were, — that which belonged to the public ; but if he 
 built for himself or his family, he never sought to surprise or dazzle 
 the multitude by any outside show, but contented himself with the 
 indulgence of his personal tastes within, and built an agreeable home 
 for himself and his dependants. Such, at least, was the custom of 
 the Roman citizen at the close of the republic. At a later day, 
 vanity and ostentation modified the tendency of the Roman in this 
 respect ; but at this time antique society was evidently declining to 
 
ROMAN DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 155 
 
 its fall. The private houses of Pompeii, from the richest and greatest 
 to the most humble, all preserved an exterior appearance of uniform 
 simplicity, and all used the same methods of construction and the 
 same materials. These peculiarities we find still in vogue in all the 
 cities of the East. If the Roman citizen was wealthy and was 
 enabled to construct apartments furnished with statues and paintings, 
 he took care to keep his magnificence for his own use, and avoided 
 exciting the envy of those outside of his house. These were the 
 natural habits of a republic ; and a citizen who may have spent 
 many millions of sesterces from his private purse to build an aque- 
 duct or a circus for his native city, would inhabit a mansion which, 
 to all external appearances, was no better than that of his poor 
 neighbor. It seems likely that this custom of concealing from the 
 public the interior richness of private houses contributed to develop 
 among the Romans that love for their villas, where, at least, they 
 could unrestrainedly indulge in their taste for luxury and comfort 
 without fear of the criticisms of the public or their neighbors. We 
 find indications of the existence of this envious feeling at Rome, 
 when the party of Clodius, having successfully intrigued to banish 
 Cicero from the city, sacked and destroyed all his private houses 
 as soon as he had gone. It was in view of such acts of violence 
 from the mob, that the wealthy Romans, establishing their house- 
 holds in a city so often disturbed by factions, carefully concealed 
 from the outer world their interior pomp and luxury. Among the 
 Romans, therefore, the requirements of the private house differed 
 from those of the public building, not only in regard to the ne- 
 cessary variations in the arrangement and size of rooms, etc., but 
 in a respect with which art was more particularly concerned. If 
 the Roman considered that he could never do too much to emphasize 
 the exterior grandeur and importance of the public monument, he 
 found it necessary to disguise the splendors of his household from 
 the passers-by. This enables us to comprehend the essential dif- 
 ference between the appearance of a Roman and that of a modern 
 city, and how, in the former, the apparent simplicity of the habi- 
 tations exaggerated by contrast the magnificence of the forums, the 
 temples, and the theatres. Evidently such contrasts, while increasing 
 the picturesqueness of a city, had their infiuence on the minds of its 
 inhabitants. The sense of sight has its habits like the other senses, 
 and it is reasonable to assume that the effect produced by public 
 
15G 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 * edifices of great exterior magnificence, situated in the midst of the 
 simple lines and the grave, close walls of uniform houses, was of a 
 nature to elevate the mind to a better appreciation of works of art. 
 
 The Romans spent the greater part of their time in public. In 
 the morning the considerable citizens received their dependants, who 
 at that time were accustomed to attend the levee of their patron, in 
 the hall {atrium) of his house. They formed his suite when he 
 walked abroad ; for among the patricians of the republic, to be 
 accompanied by a great number of retainers was a means of obtain- 
 ing influence in public affairs. Thus he proceeded to the forum, 
 or promenaded under some one of those vast porticos which, at 
 various parts of the city, served as exchanges and places of ren- 
 dezvous ; here he gave himself up to those public occupations which 
 were almost incessant in the life of the Roman citizen. Then, after 
 attending the baths or the sports of the circus or amphitheatre,, 
 in the evening he would retire to his home. At this hour the house 
 was closed to all but his most intimate friends, for whom the interior 
 luxury of the establishment was reserved. The apartments of the 
 Roman house were always small, and opened on courts and interior 
 porticos, so that no prying eye from without could penetrate the 
 privacy of the household. The architecture was exactly fitted to 
 these conditions. It cannot be a matter of surprise that the men, 
 who, at Rome, by their birth, fortune, or position, were obliged to 
 participate in all the intrigues of parties striving for power, often 
 yearned to enjoy the tranquillity of country life. Indeed, the love 
 for the country was a particular Roman trait ; it was general in the 
 time of the republic, and under the early empire it became almost a 
 passion. No notable citizen of Rome could escape, while in public, 
 from the importunities of his friends, his dependants, his partisans, 
 or his rivals ; he could not live an indifferent spectator in the midst 
 of the perpetual movement of factions ; if he would enjoy repose, he 
 was obliged to shut himself up in his house. Men like Cicero, for 
 example, whose minds and lives were occupied by those two conflict- 
 ing passions, love of study and love of power, from time to time felt 
 the necessity of obtaining mental repose by flying from the turmoil 
 and bustle of Rome to the grateful tranquillity and independence of 
 their villas ; here it is, therefore, that the true character of the do- 
 mestic architecture of the Romans must be sought. 
 
 I do not understand how it is that the idea of symmetry, ever since 
 
ROMAN VILLAS. 
 
 157 
 
 the sixteenth century, has become so closely associated with the 
 domestic architecture of the classic period, for I have been able to 
 find no trace of it either in the houses themselves or in the ancient 
 writings which refer to them. At Pompeii there is not a single 
 mansion whose plan or elevations have been submitted to its rules. 
 Cicero and Pliny have much to say, in their letters, about the aspect 
 and particular disposition of every apartment of their country-seats ; 
 but of symmetry not a word. In fact, these houses were an accumu- 
 lation of rooms, porticos, chambers, galleries, etc., whose relative po- 
 sitions and character were regulated by considerations of light, wind, 
 sun, shade, and prospect, all of which exclude symmetry. The de- 
 tailed description by Pliny of his Laurentine villa, in his letter to 
 his friend Callus, is, in this respect, extremely curious. This letter 
 is thoroughly imbued with the true practical spirit of the Roman : 
 of decoration, mosaics, marbles, or paintings he had not a word to 
 say ; but he everywhere insisted on the prospect, the aspect of the 
 different apartments with regard to the points of the compass, their 
 peculiar arrangement, the coolness of some, the soft temperature of 
 others, the various views which he enjoyed seaward and landward, 
 the sweet tranquillity of the rooms set aside for study and medita- 
 tion, the accommodation and neatness of his servants, his waters and 
 his gardens. He spoke neither of orders, wainscots, nor cornices. 
 No line of this charming letter betrays the slightest spark of vanity, 
 lie loved his country-seat, he had arranged it according to his taste 
 and was pleased with it ; it must have been, in respect to elegance 
 and refinement, all that might be expected from and befitting a 
 Roman gentleman and scholar and a man of the world ; yet when 
 at home or in his communications with his friend he showed no trace 
 of foolish pride. If it is proper for us to borrow anything from the 
 Romans, should it not be this wholesome spirit, this true elegance, 
 this judicious love of moral and physical well-being, rather than those 
 conventional formulas of style made fashionable in the puffed-up and 
 pompous reign of Louis XIV., and since then accepted as the regen- 
 erated traditions of antiquity? Those who really love and admire 
 antiquity, who seize with avidity the least expressions of polite 
 Roman society, who appreciate its refinement and its strong com- 
 mon-sense, must indignantly repel these false interpretations of its 
 arts. Ror my own part, 1 confess that I do ; the adulterated an- 
 tiquity in which we are steeped offends me, as would a head of 
 
158 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 caricature by Coustou or Coysevox on the torso of the Venus of Milo. 
 Is it not indeed a dangerous error to attribute to ancient art such 
 ridiculous and absolute laws as those of symmetry and of the indis- 
 criminate application of fixed academical orders, the shelter and pro- 
 tection of modern ignorance and mediocrity, whereas, in the works 
 of antiquity, there is one dominating principle, the frank and hon- 
 est acknowledgment of practical requirements in each case, varied 
 in the expression by the wise liberty of common-sense and good taste, 
 or, in short, the habit of reasoning applied to the sentiment of art? 
 
 I believe that Horace would have made a wry face at the château 
 of Versailles, if told that these immense symmetrical barracks, (and 
 why symmetrical ?) pierced with ranges of windows and decorated 
 with columns and pilasters, were the villa of a sovereign. We ad- 
 mire and study the antique ; you may admire, and study, if you 
 wish, the architecture of the great Louis ; but do not confound works 
 which are not only dissimilar but diametrically opposed both in prin- 
 ciple and in expression ; above all, do not pretend that the works of 
 that reign were inspired by those of antiquity. You might as well 
 undertake to prove that Puget sought his types in Ægina. It was 
 no crime in the architects of Louis XIV., that they believed and 
 honestly said that they followed in the traces of the ancients, for we 
 owe respect even to the illusions of the past ; but we have no right 
 to go on repeating such an absurdity, by hereditary transmission, in 
 our words and works. 
 
 The consul Pliny had not only his villa at Ostium on the sea- 
 shore, but a very beautiful country-seat in Tuscany, surrounded by 
 delicious gardens ; he described it to his friend Apollinarius. Each 
 of these two establishments had its peculiarities, differing from the 
 other bv reason of the different climate, site, aspect, views, waters, 
 and habits of the country. Yet, whether on the shore of Ostium or 
 on the slope of the Tuscan Apennines, it Avas still a Roman house, 
 with its numerous offices and dependencies, its porches, its eastern 
 rooms, its baths, studies, guest-chambers, playground, gymnasium, 
 saloons, summer and winter apartments, and lodgings for dependants 
 and si aves. All these different rooms Avere placed, not with a vieAv 
 of carrying out an academic plan, but according to the taste of the 
 owner and to accommodate his daily habits. 
 
 We have seen the Roman, in his public monuments, submitting 
 to the laAVS of symmetry ; here he maintained his dignity, he Avas 
 
BOM AN COMMON-SENSE IN DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 159 
 
 a magistrate, he built for the public, and, in doing so, recognized 
 that symmetry was a powerful agent to display his grandeur to the 
 multitude ; but, at home, he laid aside his official character, he 
 built to please himself. In these apartments he courted the sun, in 
 those he studiously avoided it ; he availed himself of every advantage 
 of his site ; he required comfort, and never allowed himself to be 
 guided by vanity like that of the modern lord of the manor, whose 
 first wish is that his mansion shall represent a correct architectural 
 composition, even if to attain this end he must sacrifice his domes- 
 tic ease. The Roman in his country-seat, with a rare sagacity and a 
 delicate taste, yielded everything to the accommodation of his mate- 
 rial and intellectual needs ; he required provision for the bodily health 
 and comfort of himself and family ; and lie needed a library, quiet 
 apartments for study, such as would give him facilities for that recu- 
 peration essential to every mind which would be kept whole and 
 sound ; he must have his gymnasium for the mind as well as for the 
 body. Interior luxury and splendor had their place in his house, 
 but he never sacrificed to these the arrangements necessary to his 
 comfort. In short, he knew how to be a private citizen as he knew 
 how to be a public man ; rarely suffering himself to be led astray 
 either by an unreasonable love of luxury, or by an undue exercise of 
 power. 
 
 I ask, then, nothing better than that we shall be Romans, — not 
 Romans with periwigs and high-heeled shoes in the style 'of Louis 
 XIV. ; but Romans, in our knowledge of the true requirements of 
 life, in our plain and straightforward good sense, in our practical 
 philosophy, in our way of loving the arts like sensible men rather 
 than like amateurs or dilettanti, in avoiding such follies as ranging 
 columns in file without knowing why, and lodging ourselves in 
 palaces magnificent for those without, but uncomfortable, sombre, 
 ridiculous, and full of hidden miseries for those within. It must be 
 confessed that the château and the manor-house of the Middle Ages 
 resemble the villa and the Roman house much more closely than do 
 the mansions of the last two centuries, for the men who built those 
 châteaux and manor-houses first required to be lodged agreeably, 
 wholesomely, and strongly, and troubled themselves little whether 
 one wing of their house was shorter or longer than the other, or 
 whether the flanking range of offices on one side was higher or 
 lower than that on the other. 
 
1G0 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Let us endeavor to form an idea of that residence so dear to Pliny 
 the consul, his Laurentine villa'. It was but seventeen miles from 
 Rome, on the sea-shore, near the little town of Latium. “ It is large 
 enough,” said the consul to his friend Gallns, “ to afford all desirable 
 accommodation, without being extensive. First, there is a vestibule 
 (atrium), simple but not mean ; thence you proceed to a small but 
 pleasant court, shaped like the letter I), surrounded by a portico or 
 gallery, which, as it is covered with a transparent roof and above that 
 is protected by the projection of the main roofs, affords a commo- 
 dious retreat in bad weather. From this second court you enter a 
 third, from which opens the banqueting-room, which extends out 
 over the sea in such a manner that when the African wind (the 
 southwest) blows, the base of its Avails is gently lapped by the Avaves. 
 This room is pierced on all sides Avith doors, and Avith Avindows as 
 large as doors, so that on the three outer sides you have as many 
 views of the sea, and on the inner side you command a vista of the 
 principal court Avith its portico, the little round court, then the vesti- 
 bule, and beyond, in the distance, the woods and mountains. On 
 the left of this room is a large retired apartment, and beyond this an- 
 other smaller one so disposed as to receive light from the east on one 
 side and from the Avest on the other. The latter side commands a 
 quiet vieAV of the sea, Avhich at this point is farther off' than it is as 
 seen from the banqueting-room. Outside, betAveen the bauqueting- 
 room and the apartments I have just described, the building forms a 
 re-entering angle, which, as it retains and increases the heat of the 
 sun, is very agreeable in Avinter, and serves as a gymnasium for my 
 people in that season. This place is protected from all winds except 
 those Avhich accompany mists and stormy weather. To the apart- 
 ment of which I have just spoken is added another, which projects in 
 the form of the segment of a circle in such a manner that the sun 
 shines through its windoAvs all day long. In this room, in the thick- 
 ness of the Avails, are cases forming a sort of library, filled Avith choice 
 books, — an unfailing source of recreation and instruction. A bed- 
 chamber is separated from this apartment by a passage Avainscoted 
 with Avood and so arranged as to communicate the heat from one 
 room to the other. All the rest of the rooms on this side are re- 
 served for the use of my freedmen and slaves, but they are neat 
 enough for guests.” 
 
 Pliny then goes on to describe in detail the range of apartments 
 
TIIE LAURENTINE VILLA OE PLINY. 
 
 1G1 
 
 on the other side of his villa, including a small dining-room, and be- 
 yond, baths, with the usual arrangements of a frigidarium, a furnace, 
 a room reserved for perfumes, a warm chamber, and a hot bath, the 
 latter having a view towards the sea*. Then he speaks of a tennis 
 court ( spheristerium ) not far off' from the baths, having an exposure 
 towards the sun in the afternoon, when the Romans engaged in their 
 games and exercises, and of two pavilions or casinos, close by this 
 court, of two stories each, with flat roofs, commanding a tine extent 
 of the sea with the villas along its shores, and also of his own gar- 
 den, planted with box, rosemary, fig-trees, mulberries, and crossed by 
 arbors of vine. On this garden, according to his description, opened 
 another dining-room, with adjoining apartments, and a long gallery 
 ( cryptoporticus ), pierced with windows on two sides, towards the sea 
 and the gardens. Then a playground ( xystam ) “ perfumed with 
 violets ” appeared to have been arranged against this saloon in such 
 a manner as to protect it from the cold winds. In a very retired 
 position at the end of this -saloon or gallery Avas built another range 
 of apartments, the favorite abode of Pliny ; he describes minutely 
 all these rooms, and dwells at length on their advantages of aspect 
 and vieAV ; they included sleeping-chambers, a room warmed by a 
 stove, and a study, all in wholesome shade or warm sunshine as cir- 
 cumstances required. 
 
 In fact, Pliny Avas not so foolish as to trouble himself about 
 symmetry in all this, and to inconvenience himself in order to 
 exhibit regular façades to the passers-by. All the buildings of 
 the villa Avere placed where they belonged, they were built of 
 convenient size and arranged some at the end of others, some pro- 
 jecting, others in retreat, some small and Ioav, others large and 
 high ; some were vaulted, some wainscoted, some Avere pierced 
 with many windows, and others had none at all ; but in all cases 
 the considerations of aspect and -vieAv subordinated the plan, as 
 the interior necessities and conveniences controlled the elevations. 
 Such villas Avere but a collection of a quantity of buildings joined 
 together by partition Avails, having each its own roof, its AvindoAvs 
 large or small as needed, witli such exterior and interior decoration 
 as Avas proper in each case. In all this, as Ave have said, there Avas a 
 strong contrast to the regular plans of public establishments, for the 
 Romans had too much good sense to give to domestic architecture 
 the character of public architecture. They aimed to have in their 
 ll 
 
162 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 country-seats, on a reduced scale, all the accommodations that could 
 be obtained in a town of the time of the republic. Their seats thus 
 resembled well-ordered villages. If the classic writers did not de- 
 monstrate the truth of our opinion in this respect, it needs but a 
 glance at the antique paintings of landscape which still exist in con- 
 siderable numbers. In these may be seen picturesque groups of 
 irregular buildings, united by porticos or open galleries, each build- 
 ing with its distinct roof, and each either boldly detached and facing 
 all sides as if to enjoy the sun and the view, or nestling under the 
 shade of trees and hills. Our old abbeys, our mediaeval châteaux 
 and manor-houses, exactly conform to these conditions, as we shall 
 presently take occasion to explain ; and they therefore, as I have 
 said, seem to harmonize with classic traditions much more nearly 
 than do our great regular structures of the last few centuries, unless, 
 indeed, architecture is really but the application of an order or the 
 use of certain mouldings, instead of the studied and economical dis- 
 tribution of a plan, the true expression of* the requirements, usages, 
 and manners of a civilized people. 
 
 In building his country-house, the Roman, with sound, practi- 
 cal common-sense, undertook to surround himself with everything 
 necessary for his bodily and mental comfort ; and, to attain this 
 end, he was content to make use of the resources conveniently at 
 his disposal. If, at Rome, the houses were five stories high, in the 
 country, where land was less valuable, they were spread over the 
 ground, and rarely occupied more than one floor. Indeed, why 
 should people roost over each other, when there is ample space on 
 all sides ? l)o we retire to the country to mount stairs all day long, 
 or to have conveniences for promenading and enjoying repose and 
 silence along an extended surface of land ? What charm is there in 
 a country-house if one must be shut up in a great stone box, in 
 which, as in the city, we cannot get away from the noise of people 
 ascending and descending at the tinkling of bells, the clatter of 
 opening and shutting doors, the steps of guests in their apartments, 
 the orders of the housekeeper, the cries of children, and all that 
 incessant household movement which distracts the mind and robs 
 us of the much-desired repose ? I repeat, if we would have a true 
 Renaissance, if we must resemble the Romans, let us, before borrow- 
 ing from them a few scraps of architectural decoration, to which they 
 attached but a very slight importance, imitate them in their wise 
 
HOUSEHOLD COMMON-SENSE AMONG THE ROMANS. 163 
 
 application of art to the requirements and customs of life. Let us 
 cease to embarrass ourselves with those artificial restraints which we 
 call architecture ; let art adorn and not govern our households. 
 
 The common-sense of the Roman appeared not less in his way 
 of constructing his houses and villas than in the way in which he 
 decorated and furnished them. Rubble, concrete, and brick were 
 the usual building materials ; and, if he had the means of indulging 
 in such luxuries, a few marble columns for the porticos, wainscotings 
 of the same material for those parts of the interior walls exposed to 
 dampness, plaster and stucco well made and painted everywhere, 
 with lintels and ceilings of wood. If the Romans built their public 
 edifices to last for centuries, they constructed their dwellings with a 
 view to the probability that domestic changes would require them to 
 be renewed perhaps every fifty years. Most of the dwellings which 
 have been disinterred at, Pompeii are very lightly built ; the remains 
 of ancient villas, so numerous in the neighborhood of Rome, prove 
 that they Avere constructed in the simplest and most economical man- 
 ner. Their whole decoration consisted in fresco-paintings, pavements, 
 and wainscotings of marble, and a quantity of objects independent of 
 construction, such as vases, statues, marble fountains, and furniture in 
 bronze or precious woods incrusted with ivory and metals. The 
 Roman evidently found no pleasure in piling up enormous masses 
 of stone for his habitation ; lie preferred to employ his resources in 
 so arranging the various apartments of lus villa as to obtain the 
 best vieAv or the best position with regard to the points of the compass 
 for each, and to furnish them with beautiful marbles, and Avith 
 elegant or curious works, such as mosaics, paintings, Greek statues, 
 and rare manuscripts. lie understood Iioav to obtain in his house 
 coolness in summer and warmth in winter ; he had water every - 
 Avhere, and accommodations for all the functions and duties of life ; 
 he Avished his family, that is to say, his relatives, his freedmen, and 
 slaves, to be as comfortable as himself, and that order should reign 
 everywhere in his household, not by a constraint which would be 
 insupportable both to him avIio imposed and to those who submitted 
 to it, but by a Avise provision for every necessity and every domestic 
 requirement. His slaves Avere certainly better lodged and treated 
 than are our servants ; they had their separate building, their baths, 
 and their rooms for exercise or amusement ; without regard to their 
 social state, these slaves Avere in reality more free, more happy, and 
 
1G4 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 more comfortably and wholesomely provided for than are the domes- 
 tics of any wealthy householder of the present day, though indeed it 
 is true that the former had an intrinsic value, and that their master 
 was interested in preserving them in health and strength. 
 
 W e can now understand how men, habituated to this large, tran- 
 quil, and regular country life, would desire to avoid the restraints of 
 a residence in the city as far as possible. Indeed, no Roman citizen, 
 who could afford to build a villa, would live in Rome, unless com- 
 pelled by circumstances ; and even then he aimed to supply his 
 palace within the walls with all the comforts of the villa, with every 
 office, dependency, and convenience, which could minister to the 
 luxury and indulgent ease of Roman life. 
 
 When we examine a plan of ancient Rome, on which appear the 
 remains of the great public structures of that city, it is natural to in- 
 quire where were the private dwellings of its citizens, where did that 
 great population live, who were wont to throng the Campus Martins, 
 the circuses, and the amphitheatres. The public edifices, the impe- 
 rial palaces, the porticos, the market-places, occupied at least two 
 thirds of the space included within the walls. This is explained by 
 the fact that the populace of Rome was sparse compared with that of 
 our great modern cities, and was huddled together in many-storied 
 houses, though the people spent the greater part of their time in the 
 public places so magnificently provided for their amusement and ac- 
 commodation. Rome, as the centre of the government of the then 
 known world, necessarily included a prodigious quantity of public 
 structures built on a colossal scale. In the absence of requisite space, 
 under the emperors, immense edifices were destroyed to give place to 
 new constructions ; palaces and great establishments were constantly 
 removed to build monuments better suited to the needs of the day. 
 Never did a people demolish so extensively to rebuild. Under the 
 Antoni lies, entire quarters were suppressed for the accommodation of 
 immense works of public utility; and, moreover, even up to the end 
 of the empire, there still existed, in many parts of the city, a great 
 number of public and private gardens. Nothing in modern Europe 
 can afford any idea of such a city. In the suburbs, within a circle 
 of six or eight miles around its walls, arose a prodigious quantity of 
 large and small villas, and, along the roads, many more vast public 
 establishments, temples, tombs, inns, porticos for travellers ; while 
 through the midst of this mingled sea of dwellings, monuments, and 
 
DECADENCE OE ROMAN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 165 
 
 gardens stretched the long aqueducts from the mountains, pouring 
 great lakes into the bosom of the metropolis. The remains of these 
 extra-mural constructions are now buried under a barren soil, which 
 cannot be turned over at any point without discovering, here a de- 
 molished wall and there the fragments of marble columns, and every- 
 where mosaics, pavements, basins, cellars, and, in short, all the 
 ruined marks of a great city outside the limits of Rome. 
 
 At the close of the empire, Rome had not enough inhabitants to 
 animate and people its public and private buildings. Indeed, strict- 
 ly speaking, there was no longer a Roman people. So great, how- 
 ever, had been their expansive power, that many wealthy citizens of 
 Rome lived in their villas in Gaul, Africa, the Peloponnesus, or Asia, 
 while at the gates of the capital a few slaves and ruined husbandmen 
 pillaged the abandoned country-seats. Meanwhile, at distant points 
 of the failing empire, the transplanted Romans were spreading among 
 the nations their habits and customs and fashions of building, so that 
 everywhere even to this day, and more especially in the East, the Ro- 
 man traditions may still be traced with scarcely a modification. But 
 if the houses of the Persians and Arabians recall the villas and man- 
 sions of Rome, in modern Rome itself and throughout Italy these 
 traditions have long since faded away, and we seek in vain for the 
 ancient palace in the palazzo Parnese, or for the villa of Augustus or 
 Tiberius in the villa Pamphili or the villa Albano. 
 
 In the latter days of the empire, and even before Constantine, the 
 art of architecture had become debased. At Rome there were no 
 more artists, if even there were laborers to build. The new monu- 
 ments were decorated with fragments stolen from the more ancient ; 
 the arch of Constantine was covered with bas-reliefs and adorned 
 with statues taken from the Forum of Trajan. The art of sculpture 
 had fallen into oblivion, and the emperors, in the midst of all their 
 power, were reduced to the necessity of pillaging the monuments of 
 their predecessors ; they began the work which the barbarians fin- 
 ished, and destroyed the most admirable works of art to construct 
 buildings in the worst taste, and covered with enrichments badly 
 designed and miserably executed. Tims is stripped for our inspec- 
 tion the feeble side of Roman architecture. The Romans had, as 
 we have already explained, so carefully separated the building from 
 the art, had used the latter so essentially as a mere covering or en- 
 velope for the former, that art, treated thus as an extraneous thing, 
 
106 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 before long lost the consciousness of its inherent value ; the artists 
 themselves soon disappeared, and even the craft of the stone-cutter 
 was forgotten : so true it is that neither power nor wealth suffices to 
 create artists. 
 
 Thus the West, from the time of Constantine, was subjected to a 
 long succession of devastations finally consummated by the barbarians. 
 During this sad period, art took refuge in the East at Byzantium ; 
 there it was revived among Greek traditions, it borrowed from Asi- 
 atic civilizations and was transformed. We shall soon see how Ro- 
 man art, thus transplanted and modified, for a long time illuminated 
 Western Europe ; how it reacted in Asia and on the southern shores 
 of the Mediterranean ; how, following the path of commerce, it re- 
 turned transfigured to the land it had left ; how it mingled with 
 its own ancient traditions in Gaul and Italy ; and how, in fine, it 
 adapted itself to the genius of barbaric nations. 
 
 This study will not only have an archaeological interest, but, in 
 my opinion, will materially assist in the delivery of modern arts yet 
 unborn. It is in this point of view that I propose to present it. If 
 we can forget our old prejudices, if we can make ourselves familiar 
 with the true elements which constituted the architecture of an- 
 tiquity, and with the manner in which our ancestors adapted these 
 elements to the genius of our nation, we shall have traced the path 
 which every independent mind can follow in the future to a trium- 
 phant issue. 
 
 It cannot be that Christianity supplanted the habits and customs 
 of antiquity in a day ; no physical or social revolution can be made 
 in this world without transitions, and the more the new principles 
 differ from the old, the longer and more laborious must be the tran- 
 sition. It is true that a few choice spirits passed from Paganism 
 to Christianity with a bound ; but the multitude, though they had 
 become Christian in name, worship, and profession, long remained 
 Pagan in manners and habits. Thus slavery existed in Europe long 
 after Europe had recognized the Christian law. The natural antago- 
 nism between the old traditions and this new law was the cause of 
 protracted struggles. Hardly had Christianity become the religion 
 of state in the empire, when on all sides arose innumerable schisms 
 and heresies, which in reality were but the protestations of heathen 
 philosophy and habits against the new religion. 
 
 The same phenomena may be observed in the history of the arts, 
 
y 
 
 THE BASILICA OF FANO. 
 
 PLAN. 
 
 P1.MIL 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF CHRISTIAN ART. 
 
 1 G 7 
 
 and these, being, at the period we are about to contemplate, inti- 
 mately allied with religion, were for a long time uncertain in the 
 progress they were destined to make. Indeed, as regards the arts, 
 the difficulty of transition was even greater than that suggested by 
 the analogy ; for while a dogma may, by imperial decree, be consti- 
 tuted a national creed, it is otherwise with an art, like architecture, 
 which must be expressed through the free agency of a multitude of 
 artists, artisans, and workmen, all with their prejudices and tradi- 
 tions. Christianity, in its beginning, could not but avail itself of 
 Pagan arts, and it was very slowly that these arts received the modi- 
 fications and new expressions, which, as they arose, were ever hotly 
 contested. We must then be prepared to find in the history of the 
 architecture of this period of transition between antiquity and the 
 Middle Ages much blind groping and many schisms. Faithful to 
 the programme I have laid down, I shall in this manner endeavor to 
 attract my readers towards those invariable principles which are ca- 
 pable, at this day, of leading to practical results, to the knowledge, 
 in short, of the true architectural expression of our own genius and 
 our own times. 
 
SIXTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 ON THE DECLINE OF ANCIENT ARCHITECTURE. — ON STYLE AND COMPOSITION. — ON THE 
 ORIIilNS OF BYZANTINE ARCHITECTURE. — ON THE ARCHITECTURE OF THE WEST SINCE 
 THE ESTABLISHMENT OF CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 HE question which now naturally presents itself is 
 concerning Christian art : whether there is such 
 a thing, properly speaking ; whether Christianity 
 has on the whole been favorable to the develop- 
 ment of art ; and whether, without its assistance, 
 Pagan art, whose decline and fall we have just 
 been contemplating, could have been modified or revived. To re- 
 solve this question, let us briefly glance at the history of ancient and 
 modern civilization. 
 
 So far as our knowledge of the civilizations of antiquity extends, it 
 is admitted that they all progressed more or less rapidly to a com- 
 plete development and then fatally declined ; while those of Christian- 
 ity wavered for a long time, had their epochs of brilliant success and 
 of profound depression, but never fell so low that their inherent vigor 
 failed to revive them for a new career ; they seemed constantly to re- 
 fresh themselves at an inexhaustible source of active principles ; they 
 slumbered at times, but never died. Thus, the Christian West, 
 though founded upon the ruins of antiquity, though, during eighteen 
 centuries, it has been bathed in seas of blood and been exposed to 
 the most monstrous excesses with all the attendant evils of igno- 
 rance, error, fanaticism, prejudice, disorder, revolutions, wars, tyr- 
 anny, or anarchy, — the West, far from being exhausted, seems to live 
 a new life. The terrible ordeals through which it has passed have 
 not weakened either its force, its intelligence, or its material prepon- 
 derance in the affairs of the world. Must we admit that art alone 
 
RELATION OF ART TO MODERN CIVILIZATIONS. 169 
 
 lias not been strengthened and inspired by this vital force of the 
 modern societies of Western Europe, that it has not participated in 
 their movements, that it is a faculty apart, and that it has died in the 
 midst of a civilization still progressing and ever renewed after every 
 trial? Let ns examine into this last question. 
 
 Art is either independent of the modern civilization of the West, 
 or it is one of the expressions of that civilization ; if it is indepen- 
 dent, modern society has nothing to do with it, we can dispense with 
 it or it can dispense with us ; but, on the other hand, it is not diffi- 
 cult to prove that art has been one of the most powerful levers of this 
 civilization. Though many are ignorant of this fact, or seem to be so, 
 it is none the less true. To confine ourselves for the present to France, 
 it must be admitted that the influence of this nation in the world is 
 not due to its agriculture, which simply supports the people ; nor to its 
 industry, which, in a material point of view, is inferior to that of Eng- 
 land ; nor to its finances, for it does not control the markets of t lie 
 world ; nor yet to its arms, for the force of arms, in itself, when not 
 applied to support or propagate great ideas, only excites defiance, or, 
 at best, earns for the nation, which is ever ready to draw the sword for 
 the sake of principles, a warlike reputation. lier true arms, her real 
 strength, is in her ideas, and in the various expressions of her ideas, 
 which, in fact, are so many forms of art. The world reads French 
 books and wears French dresses ; indeed, the characteristic national 
 influence of the country over the affairs of the world arises from the 
 universal application of art to everything she does. Art, therefore, 
 must be recognized as one of the elements of French civilization ; 
 and if this civilization is on the broad road, not of decline, but of 
 progress, her arts should naturally be in a flourishing condition ; if 
 they are not, the misfortune can only be attributed to the artists. 
 Now, as regards architecture, 1 am convinced that we are far behind 
 the times. In this respect we are just at the point where the West 
 was in the time of Galileo in regard to science. Those who consider 
 themselves the guardians of the eternal principles of beauty would 
 gladly shut up, if they could, as a dangerous madman, any one who 
 should undertake to demonstrate that such principles are independent 
 of any particular form of expression, and that there is no reason why, 
 because the principles are invariable, these forms should remain eter- 
 nally unchanged and confined to certain traditional rules, governing 
 all detail and proportion. Here for four hundred years we have been 
 
170 
 
 DISCOUESES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 disputing about the relative value of ancient and modern art, and 
 during all that time our discussions have turned, not upon essential 
 principles, but upon quibbles and equivocations, upon details and 
 precedents, upon the authority for this, that, or the other form. 
 The result is, that we architects, absorbed in an art half science 
 and half sentiment, have succeeded in developing for the public 
 only certain mysterious hieroglyphics which they cannot possibly 
 understand, and so they let us wrangle among ourselves in the 
 empty vanity of our exclusiveness. Shall we never have our Mo- 
 lière to treat us as he did the physicians of his time? We too have 
 our Hippocrates and Galen ; must we harp on them forever ? 
 
 I am ready to agree with any one that pure invention is not 
 necessary to architecture ; that the duty of architects is not to 
 create, but to analyze, combine, and appropriate the traditionary 
 forms at their disposal ; that the art is so imperious concerning the 
 means of execution, that we must take all the elements of design 
 from the experience of the past. Architecture, in fact, requires two 
 different operations of the mind, — the study and the application of 
 precedent ; application, because if all the masterpieces of the past 
 were collected together in the brain of a single man, if he did not 
 know how to avail himself of this knowledge, if he had no method to 
 enable him to design properly by the aid of these masterpieces, he 
 could only produce incongruous combinations of poor copies, mere 
 imitations, which, in artistic value, would be far beneath the work 
 of the barbarian who has no research, and has never studied the 
 works of the past. 
 
 The art of architectural design rests upon two perfectly distinct 
 elements, — necessity and imagination. Necessity imposes the pro- 
 gramme; it says, “I want a house with air and light”; but what 
 is imagination ? It is the faculty given to man to reunite and com- 
 bine in his brain the things which have affected the senses. Even 
 abstractions must be made tangible in form before the human imagi- 
 nation can conceive them. The professor of geometry, tracing a line 
 upon a board, says, “ The straight line is the shortest distance be- 
 tween two points.” The pupil does not question this axiom ; his 
 mind immediately comprehends it, because his imagination repre- 
 sents to him two visible points and a visible straight line uniting 
 them. lie is told again, “A point has neither extension, width, nor 
 height ; a line is but a succession of points, and has therefore only 
 
IMAGINATION AND MEMORY. 
 
 171 
 
 extension.” His mind at once admits the abstraction, but his 
 imagination, which is but the daughter of his memory, pictures to 
 itself always two visible points united by a visible line. The mind 
 acknowledges the infinite, but no human imagination can represent 
 infinity. A man born blind and deaf, and without hands, could 
 have no imagination. In the same manner, when one says to an 
 architect, “ I want a room,” his memory at once recalls some room 
 he has seen. “I wish this room to be high,” — his memory in- 
 stinctively goes to work and revives the image of a certain high 
 room. “I wish it to be very open, and to receive light freely,” — 
 again his memory travels and again finds a room fulfilling these con- 
 ditions. All these mental operations are instantaneous. The archi- 
 tect is left alone ; the programme is before him and he must meet all 
 its requirements ; then, when the resources of his memory have pre- 
 sented to him in disorder all the imagery suggested by the problem, 
 his reason intervenes, he discusses, chooses here and there, rejects 
 this and that, until imagination has composed piece by piece and 
 presented to his mind the room complete. Though the result may, as 
 a whole, be dissimilar to anything that his memory has offered, yet 
 memory is the essential and indispensable agent of the conception. 
 
 Memory, that is, the faculty of repeating in the brain what one has 
 seen, heard, or felt, has been called passive imagination, and the sec- 
 ond faculty of combining these sensations and of thus forming a 
 new conception has been called active imagination. Animals possess 
 the former, but man alone is endowed with the latter. Thus swal- 
 lows remember where and when they should make their nests ; and 
 all swallows, since swallows have existed, have done the same thing. 
 Alan, in the same manner, knows he must make a shelter for him- 
 self; but, in a few centuries, from the mud hut he arrives at the pal- 
 ace of the Louvre. And why ? Simply because man reasons, and 
 his active imagination is nothing less than the application of reason 
 to his passive imagination. “ Active imagination,” said Voltaire,* 
 “ so far from being, as is vulgarly supposed, together with memory, 
 the enemy of judgment, cannot act without the assistance of the most 
 subtle exercise of that faculty ; it combines the pictures of memory, 
 corrects their errors, and constructs all its fabrics with order and har- 
 mony. There is an astonishing imagination in practical mathemat- 
 ics, and Archimedes had at least as much imagination as Homer.” 
 
 * “ Dictionnaire Philosophique.” 
 
172 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 We must therefore reject the vulgar error that reason stifles the im- 
 agination, and that, to create new things, the resources of memory 
 are not required. On the contrary, to create new things, the judg- 
 ment must arrange and order the elements brought together in the 
 mind by the passive imagination, or memory. Enlarge your knowl- 
 edge of precedent, form your judgment, learn to reason, and your 
 faculty of invention will be increased. 
 
 There is, however, a distinction between the action of the imagina- 
 tion among primitive, barbarous men and among civilized and edu- 
 cated men, for the passive imagination of the barbarian retains com- 
 paratively but an incomplete and misty image of the objects which 
 have presented themselves to his senses ; it is a mirror which ex- 
 aggerates or deforms that which it reflects, while the memory of the 
 civilized man is a sort of dry catalogue, precise and clear. The re- 
 sult of this difference is that the passive imagination of the primitive 
 man is poetic, and his active imagination unformed and poor ; but, 
 while the memory of the cultivated man repeats the real appearance 
 of things with prosaic accuracy, his active imagination may be highly 
 developed and very poetic. Thus, when he sees a weight oscillate 
 at- the end of a cord, his passive imagination faithfully notes the fact 
 and attaches no supernatural influence to the phenomenon ; for him, 
 no invisible spirit pushes the pendulum hither and thither; but his 
 active imagination intervenes and says, “ There is a law here ; this 
 weight oscillates because it is under the influence of two forces, one 
 accidental, which has deranged its normal position, the other neces- 
 sary, which tends to restore it to that position ; this last force, then, 
 is a physical law, which causes the weight to bring the cord perpen- 
 dicular to the horizon ; it is attraction which compels this weight to 
 tend towards the centre of the earth.” Another observer, having 
 attached a ball to the end of a piece of string, causes it to describe a 
 circle by a movement of his hand. He perceives that the rotatory 
 movement imparted to the ball keeps the string in a state of ten- 
 sion, which is increased as the movement becomes more rapid. His 
 passive imagination recalls to him that the moon revolves around the 
 earth and the planets around the sun ; then his active imagination 
 gives him a glimpse of centrifugal and centripetal forces. Let us 
 take an instance which has closer relations to our subject. A barba- 
 rian, after visiting Rome and seeing its various monuments, returns 
 to his native country ; his uncultivated memory depicts the edifices 
 
IMAGINATION AND MEMORY. 
 
 173 
 
 with the sculpture and painting which decorated them ; he has not 
 observed the relations between the various architectural members ; 
 he has been much more impressed by the details of the sculpture, the 
 subjects represented in the paintings, than by the proportions, the 
 wise employment of materials, or the adaptation of the buildings 
 to the purposes they were intended to fulfil. The objects which he 
 has seen assume in his memory fantastic shapes, like the imagery of 
 dreams ; the grand becomes the gigantic ; the powerful engines lift- 
 ing enormous weights become sentient monsters ; the statues are. ani- 
 mated ; the paintings see and speak. On his return, he wishes to 
 gather together his recollections, his passive imagination is in a fever; 
 he also wishes to build ; but his active imagination, his reason, is 
 dormant, and the barbaric piles, which are evolved out of the tu- 
 mult of lively and poetic impressions in his mind, are necessarily 
 confused in all their elements, and everything is out of place. A few 
 centuries later a civilized man comes, and, with cold, critical eyes, 
 examines these rude essays ; his passive imagination receives the 
 impressions without any attempt to analyze them. When he is 
 called upon in turn to design a monument, his mind recurs to the 
 masterpieces of art ; but lie can only admire or imitate these ; he 
 cannot create with them until they are applied, as a pure and exact 
 standard, to the memory of those barbarous structures, the artless 
 but energetic expressions of a passive imagination stirred to its in- 
 most depths. Then those coarse images lose their savage traits, the 
 active imagination of the intelligent man is possessed and invigorated 
 by the passive imagination of the barbarian ; in his turn he sees, not 
 the work of the barbarian, but the impression it left upon his mind, 
 and he sees it with the power of reproducing it transfigured and 
 purified for neAV uses. 
 
 There are times when man has need of the barbarous element just 
 as the earth requires manure ; for the brain, to be productive, must 
 be disturbed by a moral fermentation, the result of contrasts and con- 
 flicts between the reality and the conception. The epochs most fertile 
 in works of the imagination (and among these I class the arts, though 
 there are those who produce works of art as manufacturers make 
 yards of velvet) are the epochs, not of repose, but of agitation, those 
 which furnish to the observer the greatest number of contrasts. 
 M hen society has arrived at an advanced degree of civilization, when 
 everything is pondered, provided for, ordered, and arranged, there is 
 
174 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 established a general level of comfort, convenience, and convention- 
 ality, which, while they make mankind happy, do not excite his 
 intelligence. The arts require movement, struggles, revolutions, ob- 
 stacles even ; the absence of such movement in the moral as in the 
 physical world soon leads to corruption. Roman society, placed in 
 the centre of the West, the absolute mistress of all known peoples, 
 became enfeebled and corrupt for the want of obstacles to overcome, 
 for the want of discussions and contrasts. Manners and arts decline 
 for this only reason, that everything which is not refreshed in this 
 world by the movement and contrast of foreign elements must perish. 
 Ideas are like families ; they must be crossed, or else they physically 
 decline. 
 
 What becomes of the poet in the midst of a society perfectly or- 
 dered, governed, and policed, in which every one has nearly the same 
 quantity and the same kind of ideas on every subject ? Excess and 
 contrast are necessary to him. When the man of feeling sees his 
 country down-trodden, when lie is the witness of odious abuse, when 
 his conscience is oppressed, when he suffers or hopes, if he is a poet, 
 he will inevitably be inspired ; he will write and excite emotions ; 
 but if he lives in the midst of an elegant, tolerant, and self-indulgent 
 society, where all excess is regarded as a mark of bad taste, how is 
 he inspired and where his theme ? He will describe floAvers, stream- 
 lets, and verdant meadows, perhaps, or, working -himself into a ficti- 
 tious frenzy, he will plunge into the realms of the fantastic, the 
 astonishing, the impossible, or he will give utterance to a vague de- 
 sire, a causeless complaint, he will express sufferings without an ob- 
 ject. But the true poet, penetrating beneath the surface of society, 
 however calm and smooth and specious it may be, will discover sen- 
 timents which can never perish while there is life ; he will discover 
 the eternal warfare of noble and base passions in the human heart, 
 and will set once more before the eyes of men those contrasts which 
 they have forced to disappear, and thus will be heard and read. 
 The more society is civilized and governed, the more the artist, if he 
 would make an impression on its serene surface, is constrained to an- 
 alyze and dissect its passions, manners, and tastes, to recur to princi- 
 ples, to seize them and hold them up naked before the world. Yet 
 it remains true that it is far more difficult to be an artist in times 
 like ours than among gross and savage people swayed without re- 
 straint by tumultuous passions. 
 
STYLE. 
 
 175 
 
 Thus, in primitive epochs, style imposed itself upon artists ; to- 
 day the artist must seek for style. 
 
 But what is style ? By style I do not refer to the classification of 
 art by periods, as the Byzantine style, the Saracenic style, the Greek 
 style, but I mean that style which is inherent in all arts of all times. 
 Thus the writer in any language has his peculiar style ; but there is 
 also a style belonging to all languages and peculiar to none, because 
 it appertains to humanity. This style is inspiration, but inspiration 
 submitted to the laws of reason, inspiration which confers an indi- 
 vidual distinction upon every work resulting from a true sentiment, 
 which has been rigorously analyzed by reason before it has been 
 expressed ; it is the intimate accord of the faculty of imagining and 
 the faculty of reasoning ; it is the effort of the active imagination in- 
 formed by reason. I have said in previous pages that the passive 
 imagination of the Greek recalled a man on horseback, but his active 
 imagination inspired him to make one being of these two ; and his 
 reason taught him how to unite the torso of one to the breast of the 
 other : he created a centaur, and that creation had style, not because 
 it was Greek, but because it was an inspiration. 3 
 
 A distinguished writer has lately said that in architecture “ style 
 is first the epoch, then the man.”* This definition seems to me to 
 confound that which is conventionally called the styles with style. 
 It may be said that the style of some epochs, like that of the Romans 
 under the last emperors of the West, is entirely destitute of style. 
 There is a Louis XIV. style and a Louis XV. style, and ingenious 
 parties have lately discovered even a Louis XVI. style ; yet one of 
 the characteristics of the art of architecture at the end of the seven- 
 teenth and through the eighteenth centuries is absence of style. 
 “ We must define terms,” said Voltaire, who was apt to be right. 
 Style proper and style as referred to in antiquarian nomenclature are 
 two distinct things. 
 
 Style consists in distinction of form ; it is one of the essential ele- 
 ments of beauty, but it does not in itself constitute beauty. Civil- 
 ization dulls, but does not destroy those instincts of man which lead 
 him to put style into his works. These instincts act in spite of 
 ourselves. In the midst of society you distinguish one person above 
 all others. This person possesses none of those striking characteris- 
 tics which constitute beauty ; her traits are irregular ; and yet, your 
 
 * “Traité d’ Architecture,” by M. Léonce Raynaud, Yol. II. p. 86. 
 
176 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 eyes are strangely fascinated by her. Even though unaccustomed to 
 habits of philosophic observation, you soon can analyze the cause of 
 the mysterious attraction. At first view it is, perhaps, a distin- 
 guished elegance of line, a harmony between the bony and muscular 
 systems ; the combination may be irregular and without strict beau- 
 ty or correctness of outline, yet it is a combination which at once 
 arouses either your sympathy or your antipathy. Your thoughts are 
 preoccupied by her shape, a certain propriety or singularity of rela- 
 tion between her frame and the envelope which encloses it, the way 
 in which the hair is attached to the cranium, the limbs to the body, 
 the harmony between the gestures and the thought. Soon you seem 
 to have distinct ideas concerning her habits, tastes, and character; 
 she becomes the theme of a complete romance in your mind, though 
 you have never seen her before, do not know her, and have never 
 spoken to her. This mysterious attraction of animated beings is due 
 to style. The human species is so often marred by false education, 
 by moral and physical infirmities, that it is unusual to meet with 
 style in one of its members. But animals, as distinguished from 
 man, always possess this harmony, this perfect conformity between 
 the envelope and the instinct, the breath, which makes them live; 
 all, therefore, from the insect to the noblest quadruped, have style. 
 Among them, a false gesture, a movement which does not clearly and 
 directly indicate a definite intention, a desire, or a fear is impossi- 
 ble : they are never affected, mannered, or vulgar ; whether beautiful 
 or ugly, they all are stylish, because their instincts are simple, and 
 the means by which they accomplish their purposes direct and nat- 
 ural. But man, and especially civilized man, as he is an extremely 
 complicated animal, as he is transformed by an education which 
 obliges him to contend forever against his instincts, by self-denial, in 
 short, to obtain style, must, so to speak, make a retrospective effort. 
 Every one must sympathize with Alceste when he claims to prefer 
 the nursery rhyme, 
 
 “Si le roi m'avait donné 
 Paris sa grand’ ville,” 
 
 to a sonnet of Orontis ; but unhappily this does not prevent poetas- 
 ters like Orontis from going on making vapid sonnets, and archi- 
 tects from covering their buildings with ornaments without reason 
 and without style. 
 
 We have to-day become strangers to those elemental and simple 
 
STYLE. 
 
 177 
 
 ideas of truth which lead architects to give style to their designs ; it 
 is therefore necessary to define the constituent elements of style, and, 
 in doing so, to carefully avoid those equivocations, those high-sound- 
 ing but senseless phrases, which have been repeated with all that 
 profound respect which most people profess for that which they do 
 not understand. If ideas are to be communicated, they must be 
 rendered palpable and tangible. If we wish that style, as regards 
 form, should be comprehended, we must consider form in its simplest 
 expressions. 
 
 Let us, then, take one of the primitive arts, that which is first 
 practised, because first needed, among nations, — the art of the cop- 
 persmith, for instance. It is unnecessary here to consider how long it 
 was before man was enabled so to refine and to reduce copper to thin 
 plates as to be able to make of it a vase fit to contain a liquid. We 
 propose to take the art at the moment when it has been discovered 
 that, by beating a sheet of copper in a certain manner, it can be 
 modelled and made to assume the form of a vase. To obtain this 
 result, the workman requires but an anvil and a hammer. By the 
 proper use of these tools he can cause a sheet of copper to return on 
 itself and from a plane surface create a hollow body. Ilis first care 
 is to make a flat, circular bottom for his vase, in order that it may 
 stand firm when it is full ; and to prevent its contents from spilling 
 when it is moved, he contracts its upper orifice and then spreads it 
 suddenly at the edge, to facilitate pouring out. Fig. 19 presents the 
 
 Fig. 19. 
 
 most natural shape, given by the method of fabrication, for such a 
 vase. To enable the vessel to be lifted conveniently, the workman 
 attaches handles to it by means of rivets ; but, as the vase requires to 
 be inverted when it is empty, that it may lie dried, he so shapes 
 these handles as not to arise above its upper level. Fashioned thus 
 in the necessary progress of fabrication, the vase has style, first, be- 
 cause it distinctly indicates its own destination ; second, because its 
 material has been shaped with the simplest regard for its adapta - 
 12 
 
178 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 bility to the requirements ; and, third, because the form obtained is 
 that which most readily conforms to the substance of which it is 
 made, and to the uses for which it is destined. It has style, because 
 the human reason has indicated exactly its appropriate form. But 
 the coppersmiths themselves, in their desire to do better or otherwise 
 than their predecessors, soon quit the line of truth and propriety. 
 There comes then a second coppersmith, who proposes to modify the 
 form of the primitive vase in order to seduce the purchaser with the 
 attraction of novelty ; to this end he gives a few extra blows of the 
 hammer and rounds off' the body of the vase, which until then had 
 been regarded as perfect (Fig. 20). The form is in fact novel, and 
 
 Fig. 20. Fig. 21. 
 
 it becomes fashionable, and everybody in town must have one of the 
 vases made by the second coppersmith. A third, seeing the success 
 of this expedient, goes still further, and makes a third vase (Fig. 21), 
 with rounder outlines, for anybody who will buy it. Having quite 
 lost sight of the principle, he becomes capricious and fanciful ; he 
 attaches developed handles to his vase, and these he declares to be 
 in the newest taste. It cannot be overturned to be drained without 
 danger of bending these handles, yet every one applauds the new vase, 
 and the third coppersmith is regarded as having singularly perfected 
 his art, while in fact he has only robbed the original work of all its 
 style, and produced an object which is really ugly and comparatively 
 inconvenient. 
 
 Thus it is with style in all arts. The arts which have ceased to 
 express the necessities which called them into existence, the nature 
 of the material employed, and the manner of fashioning it, have 
 ceased to have style. The style of architecture of the Roman de- 
 cline and that of the eighteenth century have no style whatever. 
 Custom permits us to say, the style of the arts of the Lower Empire, 
 of the reign of Louis XV. ; but we should not say, the arts of the 
 Lower Empire or those of the reign of Louis XV. have style, for 
 their great defect (if it be a defect) is in being entirely regardless 
 
STYLE. 
 
 179 
 
 of style, since they manifest an evident contempt for tlie true form 
 expressive of the object and its. usage. If a Roman matron of the 
 time of the republic should make her appearance in a saloon tilled 
 with women clothed in cages of hoops, with powdered hair and a 
 scaffolding of feathers and flowers on their heads, she would seem 
 quite out of fashion ; it is not less certain that her toilet would have 
 style, while those of the ladies in hoops would be in the style of their 
 time, but without style. This, it seems to me, is a definite point of 
 departure to enable us to appreciate the meaning of this term. But 
 it must not be supposed that style is peculiar to any fixed form, and 
 that the women of the present day, if they desire to be stylish, should 
 be clothed like the mother of the Gracchi. The robe of satin or of 
 wool may each have style, but on condition that the cut of each shall 
 not deny the form of the body which it covers, shall not ridiculously 
 exaggerate it, shall not embarrass its movements, and that both 
 stuffs shall be cut with a view to their respective characteristics. 
 Nature, in all her works, has style, because, however varied her 
 productions may be, they arc always submitted to laws and invaria- 
 ble principles. The lilies of the field, the leaves of the trees, the 
 insects, have style, because they grow, develop, and exist according 
 to essentially logical laws. We can spare nothing from a flower, 
 because, in its organization, every part has its function and is formed 
 to carry out that function in the most beautiful manner. Style 
 resides in the true and well-understood expression of a principle, 
 and not in an immutable form ; therefore, as nothing exists in 
 nature without a principle, everything in nature must have style. 
 I have already said, and I repeat it, for fear it may be forgotten, 
 that discussions on art turn on ambiguities. You have been told in 
 the schools that Greek art lias the imprint of style, and that, as this 
 style is pure, that is to say, complete and without alloy, you must 
 copy the Greek form if you wish your art to have style. It might as 
 well be said, the tiger or the cat has style ; therefore disguise your- 
 self as a tiger or a cat, if you would express style. Instead of this, 
 it should be explained to you why the cat and the tiger, the flower 
 and the insect, have style, and you should be instructed to proceed 
 like Nature in her productions, and thus you would be enabled to 
 give style to all the conceptions of your brain. This, it is true, is no 
 easy task, surrounded, as you are, by a complicated civilization, which 
 has no characteristic expression in art, which is under the dominion 
 
180 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 of traditions and prejudices, swayed rather by habit than by convic- 
 tion, which is fashionable, cloyed, sceptical, and little fitted to admit 
 the true expression of a principle ; but it is not impossible. 
 
 Any doctrine which tends to prove that a very advanced state of 
 civilization necessarily excludes style from art, seems to me very 
 singular. It is always possible to give to the arts the element 
 necessary to their splendor and their duration. To this end, the 
 work of cold reason is alone essential. To explain : among primi- 
 tive people, the spirit or imagination of the artist is capable of 
 producing works possessing style, because this spirit or imagination 
 proceeds like nature. A necessity or a desire manifests itself, and 
 man employs the most direct means of satisfying it. Style, then, 
 resides in the simplicity of the means employed by the artist, it is 
 independent of the man ; but with us in modern times the con- 
 ditions are different. We can read and write, we have been taught 
 to translate Greek and Latin classics, we have learned Corneille, 
 Boileau, and Racine by heart; the beauties of these poets and writers 
 have been duly explained to us ; if we have been attentive, we under- 
 stand these explanations, but hardly the qualities to which they 
 relate ; imbued, as it were, with this education (which, indeed, I 
 am far from blaming), we leave college, and if we wish to give 
 expression to a thought which occurs to us, we first study what 
 Cicero, Horace, or Boileau would have done, if they had been called 
 on to give a literary or poetic turn to the same thought. Thus our 
 education leads us to give to the issue of our own brains a style 
 which belongs to works whose merits we have been made to ap- 
 preciate. But in literature it is necessary, 
 
 Que toujours le bon sense s’accorde avec la rime ; 
 
 because everybody reads, and nearly everybody can understand what 
 he reads. The poet or writer of our days, who “ from heaven has 
 received the secret influence,” without forgetting Cicero or A irgil, 
 Racine or Voltaire, expresses his ideas, not by imitating literally 
 the forms and turns of expression employed by those authors, but 
 simply by proceeding as they would have done under similar circum- 
 stances. Instruction aids the true writer, because public opinion is 
 his true guide. But in the art of architecture we have not this 
 touchstone of common-sense. The public regards architecture as 
 one does a book which he cannot read. His admiration stops at 
 
STYLE. 
 
 181 
 
 the binding and the typography. Even if the book is full of the 
 dullest follies, it does not disgust the man who cannot decipher its 
 characters. Deprived, then, of the chastisement and spur of public 
 opinion, our young architects study and cherish the works of an- 
 tiquity and of what are called the first modern epochs. We go to 
 Rome or Athens. Filled with fine examples of antiquity which we 
 have seen under a pure sky, we return one day to be once more 
 plunged in the fogs of the Seine or Thames, and we are called upon 
 to- design a building according to new requirements which were 
 never dreamt of in Greece or Italy. And here it is well to observe 
 that, if the works of Virgil, Horace, or Cicero have come down to us 
 entire and pure from all alloy, it is not so with the architectural 
 monuments of antiquity, those mutilated ruins of an art, whose true 
 motives and inspirations, whose exact relations with the manners and 
 ideas of the people who constructed them, there is hardly an author 
 or a tradition to explain to us. Doubtless the passions and emotions 
 of the human soul are the same in all times; but tins does not mean 
 that Napoleon I., for example, had the same ideas as Alexander about 
 men and things. It is precisely these differences between men, as 
 regards their ideas, which have and should have a great influence 
 upon art, and the art of architecture in particular. A Greek or a 
 Roman may have attached to certain forms ideas which are lost to 
 us ; from the moment when these forms ceased to be the expression 
 of ideas to us, they became meaningless and should have ceased to 
 exist as motives of design. 
 
 I am very ready to admit that beauty is a positive quality ; that, 
 to use the language of a modern author regarding architecture, “ the 
 good is the essential basis of the beautiful.” But the question is, 
 What is the good? For most people, it is good to employ habitually 
 a certain idea or form, although that form or idea may not be good 
 when compared with others. We call a proceeding or a custom 
 good because it is familiar to us ; yet, relatively to another proceed- 
 ing or another custom which is unknown to us, it may be bad, or at 
 least insufficient. Thus, it was good to navigate with sails before 
 the force of steam was known ; but this means of navigation, excel- 
 lent in past times, is not good when compared with those which 
 modern industry furnishes us with. We can say the same of the 
 ideas, the systems, the principles, which govern art ; when, in the 
 course of material progress, they are modified, the forms which 
 
182 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 faithfully expressed them, and were therefore beautiful, must, to re- 
 main beautiful under the new conditions, undergo a corresponding 
 modification. We admire a hundred-gun sailing-ship of the line ; 
 we recognize, in this work of man, not only the effort of a mar- 
 vellous intelligence, but forms so perfectly adapted to their uses as 
 to seem, and, in fact, to be, beautiful ; but, however beautiful these 
 forms may be as regards their fitness for the uses of propulsion by 
 wind, from the moment when the power of steam was discovered for 
 marine uses, they became obsolete and were no longer good, and, ac- 
 cording to the axiom we have just cited, they cease to be beautiful 
 for us in their application to the art of ship-building. At our epoch, 
 therefore, when we are under the dominion of an absolute necessity, 
 we submit our works to this necessity, and these works thus have 
 style, because they are the result of the rigorous application of a 
 principle. But we construct public edifices without style, because, 
 in architecture, we are not governed by such an absolute necessity 
 as constantly invigorates the mechanic arts, and we allow ourselves 
 to ally forms, which were good and beautiful in their relations to 
 old traditions, to the new and modified uses of the day. Naval con- 
 structors and mechanical engineers, when they make a steamboat or 
 a locomotive, do not seek to recall the sailing-ship of the time of 
 Louis XIV., or a coach-aud-four ; they obey without question the 
 new principles which are laid before them, and produce works which 
 have their peculiar character and style, inasmuch as they distinctly 
 indicate their uses to every eye. A locomotive, for instance, has its 
 peculiar physiognomy, not the result of caprice, but of necessity. It 
 expresses controlled power ; its movements are gentle or terrible, it 
 advances with awful impetuosity or, when at rest, seems to tremble 
 with impatience under the hand of the engineer. It is almost a liv- 
 ing being, and its exterior form is but the expression of its power. 
 A locomotive, then, has style. Some say it is but an ugly machine. 
 And why ugly ? Does it not have the true expression of brutal en- 
 ergy? Is it not a complete organized mass, possessing a particu- 
 lar character, like a piece of artillery or a rifle ? A thing has style 
 when it has the expression appropriate to its uses. A sailing-vessel 
 has style, but a steamer, which should conceal its motive-power to 
 assume the appearance of a sailing-vessel, has no style ; a rifle has 
 style, but a rifle made to resemble a cross-bow does not. Now we 
 architects have for a long time past been endeavoring to fashion our 
 
STYLE 
 
 183 
 
 rifles to imitate the cross-bow as nearly as possible, or at least the 
 arquebuse, and there are many grave people who will maintain that, 
 if we abandon this form, we shall become barbarians, that art will 
 be lost and must needs cover up its face in shame. But let us leave 
 metaphors. 
 
 Fig. 22. 
 
184 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Here (Fig. 22) is a construction of the best Roman period, that is, 
 the period during which the Greeks were called upon to construct 
 the edifices of Rome ; it is the wall of the circular cella of the tem- 
 ple of Vesta, on the banks of the Tiber. The columns of this temple 
 are marble monoliths, and the wall of the cella is faced on its exte- 
 rior surface with the same material ; but marble was a material rare 
 enough at Rome to make it desirable to avoid a prodigal use of it. 
 This wall, therefore, is composed, at intervals, of thin courses of mar- 
 ble, A, running through its whole thickness, and, between these, of 
 an ashlar facing B, also of marble, with an economical backing of 
 travertine, the calcareous stone of the country. The backing and 
 facing are always clamped together with iron. On the interior face 
 the courses of travertine were covered with painted stucco. This is 
 a wall, a simple wall, whose construction has style. The alterna- 
 tion of thin courses serving as ties or bonds for the facing, the square 
 channels along the joints frankly confessing the form of every stone 
 and showing the means employed, all make up, without affectation, 
 a decoration full of style, because the eye at once comprehends the 
 solid and well-reasoned structure. Seduced by the firm and elegant 
 appearance of this simple wall-facing, an architect, on his return to 
 Paris, desires to reproduce it. But there he must construct with 
 stone, and not with marble ; they send to him from the quarry courses 
 of equal heights, composed of stones from three to six feet long. 
 Should he amuse himself by cutting these great blocks into small 
 pieces in order to enable him to imitate the style of rustic masonry 
 in the temple of Vesta? Or, rather, should he content himself with 
 an appearance, and cut grooves where there are no joints ? In the 
 first case, he will make a bad and costly structure ; in the second, he 
 will utter a lie in stone : in either case, his construction will have no 
 style, because it will not be the expression of the nature of the mate- 
 rial employed, or of the manner of employing it in Paris. An iso- 
 lated Roman Corinthian monolithic column in marble or granite 
 has style, because the eye traverses the great block of stone from its 
 base to its summit without finding a single joint to disturb the 
 expression of homogeneousness belonging to its rigid function as a 
 slender support. But a Corinthian column made of courses of stone, 
 like those of the Madeleine or the Pantheon at Paris, has no style, 
 because the eye cannot be satisfied at seeing such a slender support- 
 ing member built up with a pile of small stones. If the material, or 
 
STYLE. 
 
 185 
 
 the means of employing it, is changed, the form should be changed 
 also. If you change the requirements of a building, you must change 
 its plan also. A profile of mouldings has in itself no style ; its style 
 consists in its fitness for the duty it performs and the place it occu- 
 pies. The Romans, though inferior to the Greeks in respect to the 
 application of style to their work, are yet very superior to us. Thus, 
 in building an arcade bearing a wall, they were accustomed to give 
 to the arch-stones {poussoirs) of their arches all the strength neces- 
 sary to their function, and they decorated these arches with mould- 
 ings {( archivolts ) which followed the continuous outer line {extrados) 
 of the voussoirs (Fig. 23, A), and were cut only on those stones. We 
 find these arcades very beautiful, and we undertake therefore to make 
 
 Fig. 23. 
 
 similar archivolts ; but, barbarians that we are, we build them up as 
 indicated at B, where the mouldings of the archivolt do not follow the 
 constructive line of the voussoirs, which jut out beyond the archivolt 
 and fit into the courses of masonry above ; this is the merest non- 
 sense. The architect says to the public, “ You admire the arcades 
 of such a Roman edifice ; admire also mine, which are faithfully cop- 
 ied from them.” But the public does not admire the copy ; it can- 
 not explain why, nor does it. understand the difference between an 
 arch with an extrados (A) and one whose voussoirs are built into the 
 courses of the wall above (B) ; but there is something in the contra- 
 diction between the construction and the decoration at B which in- 
 
18 G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 stinctively displeases the multitude, who very properly turn away to 
 admire the old Roman model. It must he admitted, however, that 
 the Romans were the first to forget the true principles of style, and it 
 is in this forgetting that we must avoid following them. 
 
 To-day style has tied from the fine arts and taken refuge in the 
 industrial ; but, to restore it, we need only a little of the same good 
 sense applied to our study and appreciation of the tine arts that we 
 apply daily to the affairs of material life. But, so far from this be- 
 ing the case, it would seem that the more rationally and logically we 
 act with respect to the industrial arts, the more irrational and illogi- 
 cal, capricious and prejudiced, are we as regards the fine arts. We, 
 who, in the fabrication of our machinery, give to every part the 
 strength and the form which it requires, with nothing superfluous, 
 nothing which does not indicate a necessary function, in our architec- 
 ture foolishly accumulate forms and features taken from all sides, the 
 results of contradictory principles, and call this art. I have often 
 heard architects complain, because the industrial were gradually sup- 
 planting the fine arts, and the special schools of applied sciences 
 w r ere gaining ground on the school of fine arts. But whose fault is 
 this ? If architects will only learn to reason about what they do, if 
 they will only apply analysis to their designs, if they will only cease 
 to believe that they have obtained style when they have adorned a 
 façade with Greek columns or Gothic pinnacles, without being able 
 to give any reason for their use of such forms, they will soon regain 
 for art the ground which it is losing every day. It is true that, to 
 obtain this result, so desirable, so necessary I may say, for the real 
 progress of art, needs courage, tenacity, and conviction ; it requires 
 an abandonment, without scruple or false shame, of all those vulgar 
 prejudices which, from infancy, have been taught us as laws ; it re- 
 quires the formation and the ceaseless application of judgment. We 
 must try to do as the Greeks did, who invented nothing, but trans- 
 formed everything. Our admiration of them must not be content 
 with copying their works, as a clerk copies a manuscript, without 
 reading it ; we must read the book and fill our minds with it, before 
 copying its letter. 
 
 Every artist, whether musician, architect, sculptor, or painter, may, 
 by means of a profound knowledge of the resources of his art, and 
 by a just reasoning, put style into his works, for study and observa- 
 tion must naturally reveal to him what are the qualities which con- 
 
ECLECTICISM. 
 
 187 
 
 stitute style ; and from analysis he will readily pass to synthesis. 
 Even the artist who possesses sound practical information only, and 
 no genius (and it is as well to assume that we all belong to this 
 category), can readily comprehend style, and introduce into his works 
 that quality which alone will cause them to be handed down to pos- 
 terity. As we have come late into the world and are embarrassed 
 by precedent, it is very difficult for us to have new ideas ; it is as 
 much as we can do to preserve style in the productions of our art ; 
 but, as style is simply the result of the application of common-sense 
 to an object, this is not impossible. Observe, I do not confound 
 style with manner ; for manner is to style what affectation is to ele- 
 gance. Certain privileged natures are born with that gift which we 
 call grace ; but observation, the habit of the beautiful and the good, 
 which is taste, may lead men to be graceful in all they say or do ; 
 manner is but the superficial imitation of style, it is not intelligence. 
 
 The artists of our epoch, and, of these, the architects in particular, 
 are weak enough, it seems to me, to believe themselves geniuses ; at 
 all events, they act as if they supposed themselves to be so. When 
 they design, they mistake the vagaries of an imagination too full of 
 memories, but without convictions, for the inspirations of genius ; 
 thus they produce monstrosities. Eclecticism is good only when sub- 
 mitted to a wise discrimination, sure of its knowledge and possessing 
 decided principles. But when eclecticism is used by an indecisive 
 mind, which has not taken time to obtain convictions by means of a 
 careful and intelligent study of art, it becomes an evil ; for in this 
 case it necessarily excludes style in admitting indifferently all the 
 various forms and expressions of historical art, without knowing how 
 to apply any one of them properly to the requirements of the mo- 
 ment. The Egyptian, the Greek, the Roman, the Byzantine, the 
 Gothic architectures have style ; but the expressions of style are dif- 
 ferent in each, because each proceeds from different principles to sat- 
 isfy different needs. How, then, if you have no convictions founded 
 upon analytical study, can you put style into your designs ? It is 
 very easy to say, “Take from every quarter, furnish your brain with 
 everything which seems to you good, then, ihen compose ! ” But I 
 have no guide ; you have not habituated me to reason and discrimi- 
 nate ; I have equally at the point of my pencil the temples of 
 Egypt and Greece, and the vaulted monuments of Rome ; I have 
 arches and lintels, pointed vaults and round vaults : you have told 
 
1S8 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 me to take from every quarter ; this is very well, if I am to make a 
 collection ; but if I am to produce, what shall I do with all these 
 acquirements ? Where shall I begin, and where end? Among all 
 these excellent things, which are the best, or which should recom- 
 mend themselves to me more than others ? If we are accustomed to 
 proceed with intelligence in designing, if we have a principle, every 
 labor of composition is possible, if not easy, and pursues a well- 
 ordered and methodical course, whose results, if they are not master- 
 pieces, are respectable and must have style. I know not whether 
 poets, musicians, and painters are ever suddenly inspired to write an 
 ode, to compose a sonata, or paint a picture ; I am inclined to think 
 not, because no poet, musician, or painter of genius has ever revealed 
 to us any such phenomenon in his experience. The sacred fire does 
 not kindle itself ; in order to create a blaze, rve must heap wood and 
 live coals together, we must arrange the fagots and logs, we must 
 blow the smouldering pile assiduously before it breaks into flame. 
 Then, it is true, if everything has been well prepared in the chimney- 
 place, the fire will gradually become bright and crackle and emit a 
 grateful heat ; but/ 1 repeat, all this is not obtained without labor. 
 
 In like manner when an architect has an edifice to construct, a hos- 
 pital, perhaps, a public office, or a palace, his first task is to deduce 
 some order from the programme which is given him, as this, like all 
 written programmes, is apt to be confused and contradictory. He 
 must satisfy himself regarding its real requirements and their relative 
 importance, without occupying himself with any consideration of 
 architecture, in the ordinary use of the term ; that is to say, with the 
 decorative envelope in which the structure is to be enclosed. He is 
 content for the present simply to get everything in place ; he takes 
 care to subordinate those parts of each division of the programme 
 which seem to him, on examination, to be mere accessories ; by slow 
 degrees, its intricate and complicated conditions thus become simpli- 
 fied ; for to reduce an elaborate problem to its elements needs careful 
 analysis and judicious distribution. Then, having arranged the dif- 
 ferent wings or divisions of his edifice satisfactorily, when he pro- 
 ceeds to unite them in a grand whole, he finds he must recur once 
 more to the work of simplification ; the whole wants unity, the con- 
 nections between the different divisions are awkward and artificial 
 and require adjustment. He again applies himself to the task of ar- 
 ranging the plan, changes from left to right, puts that in front which 
 
THE DEVELOPMENT OE A DESIGN. 
 
 ISO 
 
 was behind, and returns a hundred times to the disposition of details 
 in his design. Then the conscientious architect pauses and lays aside 
 the sheets covered with the results of his studies, when suddenly he 
 believes that he has discovered in his programme a principal idea, 
 subordinating every other consideration. Light breaks in upon him; 
 instead of examining the proposition before him in detail, to arrive at 
 the general combination of the whole, he reverses the operation ; he 
 discovers that until then he has had but a glimpse of the true re- 
 quirements of the structure, and finds that its various apartments and 
 dependencies should be submitted to a new general disposition, on a 
 larger scale, affecting all their mutual arrangements and communica- 
 tions. Thus the details of the plan, the study of which had severally 
 taxed the resources of his mind, assume their natural positions. The 
 leading idea found, the accessories arrange themselves without diffi- 
 culty. The architect has become the master of his programme, he 
 reviews his interpretation of it with deliberation, he completes it and 
 brings it to perfection. But if, during these studies, he thinks about 
 the orders, the works of the Greeks or Romans, of Pierre de Monte- 
 reau or of Mansard, he is lost, he is overwhelmed by his own memo- 
 ries, and instinctively sacrifices some practical necessity of his plan to 
 obtain a desirable architectural effect, to repeat, perhaps, a motive 
 from the Parthenon, or from the baths of Caracalla, from the Sainte- 
 Chapelle or the Invalides. No, the true architect does not allow his 
 mind to be preoccupied by these monuments of the past. Ilis plan 
 settled upon, his elevations are a part and an expression of them ; he 
 sees how he should construct them, and the dominating idea of the 
 plan becomes the principal feature of the façades. Considerations of 
 stability and of the most economical methods of construction suggest 
 to him the character of his exteriors. ITe must adopt some form, 
 but he does not wish to be accused of imitating the architecture of 
 the Romans, that of Louis XIV., of Saint Louis, or of Francis I. ; he 
 is even embarrassed by his predilections for this or that style, lest 
 he be seduced by these from the capacities of his programme for in- 
 dividual and original expression. He makes an essay upon paper. 
 “ This part of my design,” he says, “ resembles such a monument ; 
 here I have an order which recalls such a portico ; there are windows 
 which are mere reproductions of those of such a palace. I must re- 
 ject all these ; I have been seduced by my recollections from the 
 true requirements of my building. Let the material I have to use, 
 
190 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 and the manner in which I must put it together to obtain stability, 
 govern me in my elevations.” Then arises under his hand a sort of 
 carcass or frame, a combination of masses, in which lie proceeds to 
 make the exterior appearance a manifestation of the interior disposi- 
 tions, to cause the idea of the plan frankly to reappear in the eleva- 
 tion, and to decorate or subordinate the various parts according to its 
 suggestions. At this point the artistic capacities of the architect be- 
 gin to be tested ; for, to have a clear head, a practical mind, a power 
 of expressing ideas with neatness and precision, is not enough ; if he 
 would be appreciated, he must gratify the eye, and clothe his truth- 
 ful expressions with graceful and attractive forms. The discrimi- 
 nating artist, whose passive imagination has collected numerous 
 choice precedents and classed them with discernment, has discov- 
 ered that, in all the arts, including Architecture, the means of ex- 
 pressing ideas are really very few ; that grand effects are obtained by 
 a very simple treatment of a dominating thought ; that there is a 
 measure in architecture, as in music and poetry ; that the laws im- 
 posed by the common-sense of mankind, laws which are to the eye 
 what morality is to the soul, a natural regulator, applicable alike in 
 the midst of all creeds and all civilizations, cannot be safely disre- 
 garded by the architect ; that his merit consists in being able to 
 observe these laws, without repeating architectural forms of expres- 
 sion which have been previously employed ; and that, after all, these 
 laws are entirely independent of such forms. I propose, by and by, 
 to return to the consideration of this subject so important for art, — 
 the rules imposed by sentiment upon form. Tor the present, I limit 
 myself to following the architect in the first part of his work, and up 
 to the moment when, to give style to his designs, he needs only defi- 
 nite and well-ordered ideas, and to know how to express those ideas 
 with neatness and precision. 
 
 Let us now see what the Greeks did, when ancient art, in its 
 decline, had become but the pale copy of itself ; let us see ho:v, 
 once again, as in the time of the republic, they became the initiators 
 of new Western arts, and how they modified that Roman art which 
 had been made to prevail over all Europe and a part of Asia. 
 
 The Romans, under the last emperors who preceded Constantine, 
 had already evinced a decided inclination to locate the centre of the 
 empire in the East. In Greece, on the borders of the Bosphorus, 
 
PI l\ 
 
 THE BASILICA OF FANO. 
 
 SECTION ON THE LINE A B IN THE PLAN. 
 

BIETH OP CHRISTIAN ART. 
 
 191 
 
 in Syria, and even in Persia, they had built important cities, and 
 constructed palaces and public works such as Rome herself never 
 possessed. In these countries they had gradually become habitu- 
 ated to Asiatic splendors ; although the political masters of Orien- 
 tal nations, they had allowed their arts to be colored by Oriental 
 taste. When at last definitively established at Byzantium, the 
 Romans found there the elements of a Revival ; if they did not ac- 
 tively desire this Revival, they at least were not opposed to it. 
 A new worship had replaced that of paganism, and everything con- 
 curred to make this new Renaissance one of the most brilliant epochs 
 of art. Up to that period Christianity, at one time persecuted and at 
 another tolerated, had no art of its own ; it lived upon ancient art, 
 availing itself of monuments already built, without seeking to give to 
 them a distinctive form or peculiar dispositions. As a place of re- 
 union for the faithful Christians, the Roman basilica was naturally 
 the most convenient edifice ; and I think it may be safely asserted, 
 that the arrangement of the Roman basilica, the civil monument, 
 exercised a marked influence on the order of the first ostensible 
 ceremonies of the Christians. But, however this may be (for it is 
 foreign to our subject), they did not boast of possessing any peculiar 
 art, and were glad to avail themselves of the services of such archi- 
 tects, sculptors, and painters as were at hand to build and decorate 
 their civil or religious monuments. The dwelling of a Roman wor- 
 shipper of Christ differed in no respect from that of a Roman wor- 
 shipper of Jupiter ; each possessed slaves, and a legitimate Avife who 
 lived in apartments especially assigned her, with her attendants and 
 children ; both passed the greater part of the day in public places, 
 which Avere the same for both, save the church for the Christian and 
 the temple for the pagan. Christianity, before it could have any 
 influence on the arts, must first have its peculiar manners and 
 customs both in private and public. Xoav, among the Latin con- 
 verts, no such change had token place ; Avhile among the Greeks, 
 on the contrary, with their peculiar sensitiveness to religious and 
 philosophic ideas, Christianity had aroused the intellectual faculties, 
 and occasioned a mass of writings and discussions, which had so 
 affected public opinion, that even those Roman emperors who lived 
 among the Greeks at Byzantium Avere soon, contrary to the Avise 
 traditions of the empire, draAvn into the controversies, and maintained 
 heresies or dogmas against all comers. It Avas then that the new 
 
192 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 religion began to have its influence upon art. For as the Greeks 
 discussed points of doctrine, so they disputed regarding the repre- 
 sentation of divine persons and saints ; they protested against or 
 approved them ; and, approving them, their efforts were that these 
 images should be hieratic ; that the Church should adopt a conse- 
 crated form. The emperors themselves mixed in these scholastic 
 discussions regarding forms as they mixed in theological discus- 
 sions ; they were far from being Automnes. Meanwhile, the West 
 fell into the hands of barbarians ; the Roman monuments, which 
 covered the soil of Gaul, Italy, and part of Spain, were destroyed 
 or ravaged ; and for many centuries the most profound darkness 
 reigned over these countries, which previously had been animated 
 by powerful and industrious cities. 
 
 The emperors at Byzantium, renouncing henceforth all influence 
 over the affairs of the West, lived in the midst of Oriental luxury, and, 
 as I have already intimated, soon shared in the restless passions of 
 the Greek populations among which they were established. In the 
 mean while, art was transformed ; the Romans carried with them the 
 vault to the shores of the Bosphorus, or, if they found that feature 
 already existing there, they at least imported their system of con- 
 struction ; as for their architecture, to which, indeed, we have seen 
 they attached but little importance, they left this to be arranged by 
 the taste of the Greeks, who, always subtle, proceeded by degrees to 
 modify it essentially. At first they abandoned the Roman orders, 
 composed of columns with complete entablatures, and gave up the 
 use of the column itself, save as a rigid supporting member to carry, 
 not horizontal lintels, but arches ; soon they ceased to admire the 
 Corinthian and composite capitals of Rome, as not presenting at their 
 summits sufficient bearing surface to receive the springing of their 
 arches, and as too slender and delicate in their character for the 
 masses of construction with which they were loaded ; they therefore 
 dismissed these capitals, enlarged the abacus, and covered it with 
 such superficial sculpture as should not detract from its solidity. 
 Aiming at surprising effects, lours de force of architecture, they 
 endeavored to build the hemispherical vault of Rome on four points 
 of support by means of pendentives ,* and, as in St. Sophia, to give 
 
 * Pendentives, in Byzantine architecture, are the concave surfaces (spherical triangles) grow- 
 ing upward and inward from the tops of the four piers, and uniting the adjacent arches, thus 
 reducing the square plan to a round plan, whose diameter is equal to the side of the square, and 
 from which springs the dome. — Trans. 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF BYZANTINE GREEKS. 
 
 193 
 
 to these cupolas, thus suspended on four isolated piers, dimensions 
 until then unknown. Justinian, to whom is attributed the construc- 
 tion of this colossal church, was much interested in the work and 
 visited it daily. This cupola, which fell at the moment of its com- 
 pletion, w T as finally seated upon its four pendentives, when Justinian 
 is said to have cried, “ Glory be to God, who has judged me worthy 
 of completing this great work ! I have conquered thee, 0 Solomon !” 
 It is of little importance whether this exclamation was actually ut- 
 tered by Justinian, but it is of great importance that contemporary 
 historians have imputed it to him, for it plainly indicates the changes 
 which had been wrought in the spirits of the masters of the em- 
 pire. At Rome none of the emperors appeared ever to have lin- 
 gered in the sheds of the workmen, and certainly none were ever 
 known to have made the construction of a building an important- 
 affair of life. The Greeks of antiquity, the classic Greeks, were 
 accustomed to boast of their monuments, they were very proud of 
 them ; but the Romans hardly mentioned theirs, they were content 
 to build and use them. A new sentiment, therefore, animated the 
 minds of the East in the sixth century; this sentiment, a stranger to 
 the Latin character, the issue of Greek vainglory, this tendency 
 to hyperbole in regard to the creations of art, had a considerable 
 influence on the progress of the arts, an influence which brought 
 about unexpected results a few centuries later. Roman art at By- 
 zantium, renewed thus by the Greek element, prospered for a long 
 time, and divided into branches, into whose various directions and 
 greater or less geographical importance 1 propose briefly to inquire. 
 
 Every one knows that shortly after Christianity had been recog- 
 nized as the religion of the empire, numerous heresies arose in the 
 very bosom of the Church. Among these heresiarchs, Nestorius, 
 Bishop of Constantinople, was exiled in the year 431. Obliged to 
 retire to the city of Panopolis, on the right bank of the Nile, he was 
 followed and surrounded by numerous disciples who were outraged 
 at the injustice which they supposed had been done him in sacrificing 
 him to the credit of St. Cyril ; these heresiarchs were soon favorably 
 received by the followers of Mahomet, who found, among the pro- 
 scribed, men familiar with Greek antiquity, cultivated in the arts and 
 accomplished in all known sciences. It is very probable that the 
 Mahometans employed these men in all those works of art wdiich 
 they had occasion to undertake, when, a nomadic nation ot warriors 
 13 
 
194 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 without artists or workmen, they had come out of their deserts and 
 established themselves around the outlying provinces of the Eastern 
 empire. Thus it would seem that after the fifth century one of the 
 branches of this Byzantine tree, the issue of Greek and Roman arts, 
 flourished in Asia, in Egypt, in Arabia, in North Africa, and soon, 
 by way of Spain, spread even into the southern parts of the extreme 
 West. 
 
 After the invasion of the barbarians, the only foothold which the 
 Byzantine emperors could maintain in Italy was their exarchate at 
 Ravenna, where, about the middle of the sixth century, that is to say, 
 a little after the construction of St. Sophia, they built the church of 
 San Vitale. This was almost the sole Byzantine landmark planted 
 on the Italian soil. In the course of the eighth century, Leon, the 
 Isaurian, elected emperor of the East in 717, having embraced the 
 heresy of the iconoclasts, issued many edicts to suppress sacred im- 
 ages. He pushed his fanaticism to such an extent as to persecute all 
 who were engaged in the study of the arts, to abolish the schools of 
 sacred letters, and to burn the libraries ; whereupon the painters and 
 sculptors took refuge on the shores of Italy and spread over all coun- 
 tries. It was among these emigrants that Charlemagne found artists 
 to aid him in developing the Revival which he projected. Here 
 was another path by which the Byzantine arts penetrated into the 
 West, while the Arabian Mahometans, developing the Byzantine arts 
 of the Nestorians, spread them gradually from Egypt, along the Afri- 
 can shore of the Mediterranean, till, as already observed, by way of 
 Spain, they invaded the extremities of Western Europe. 
 
 The Eastern empire, in the eighth century, though menaced and 
 enfeebled, thus, in spite of itself, spread the influence of its arts 
 throughout Latin Europe, which had fallen into the lowest depths of 
 barbarism. But meanwhile Roman architecture, which had left so 
 many traces throughout Italy and Gaul, reacted against this foreign 
 influence with more or less success. In Italy, especially, the old 
 Latin genius admitted with great reluctance these Byzantine innova- 
 tions ; and even in Gaul the Roman traditions still preserved enough 
 of their original strength to be only modified, and not destroyed, by 
 the new element. 
 
 I do not pretend here to write the history of architecture, but only 
 to give an idea of the condition of the arts in Europe and a part of 
 Asia, at a moment when the traditions of antiquity were about to un- 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF BYZANTINE GREEKS. 
 
 195 
 
 clergo an important change in spirit and in form. In the absence of 
 existing monuments and distinct authority, it seems to me unneces- 
 sary here to enter upon the question whether the Visigoths and Lom- 
 bards had arts peculiar to themselves ; * for evident reasons I shall 
 abstain from entertaining here ingenious but doubtful hypotheses on 
 this subject. Why should we grope and speculate in darkness, when 
 we can proceed confidently in the light of facts ? The arts of the 
 Latins of antiquity are perfectly known to us ; those of the Byzantine 
 Greeks have left visible traces at many points of the European conti- 
 nent; the monuments of the intermingling of these two arts are there 
 before our eyes, and indicate plainly the elements of which they are 
 composed ; why, therefore, attribute to a barbarous people influences 
 over art which could only have been exercised by a long series of 
 traditions ? A barbarous people, however intelligent we may sup- 
 pose them to have been, could only possess arts after they had be- 
 come civilized, and they could have become civilized only by the 
 long practice of the arts which they had borrowed from their neigh- 
 bors or found upon the soil they had occupied. In instructing them- 
 selves thus, they would have given new expressions and a new turn 
 to their models, but they would not have invented ; indeed, they 
 would have approached their models as closely as they could, and if 
 they had corrupted or copied them without skill, they would have 
 done so unconsciously. I do not know of a single monument in 
 Northern Italy which can be attributed to the Lombards ; but if 
 there exists one, I dare to affirm that it resembles a Latin construc- 
 tion, or that it approaches the Byzantine buildings in character. The 
 want of skill alone, with which the types would have been translated 
 by them, would have added a barbarous element to their work, in 
 the ancient acceptation of the word, that is to sajL a foreign element. 
 But, if there exist no Lombard monuments, there are structures, 
 raised by the Visigoths, which are deserving of note in the archi- 
 tectural history of the first mediaeval centuries. But these are only 
 
 * Gregory the Great said of the Lombards : “ Wherever they are, there is weeping and wail- 
 ing ; cities, castles, and fields are devastated, and the earth is made a desert.” M. Léonce 
 Raynaud, in his “ Treatise on Architecture,” seems to confound the Lombards with the people 
 afterwards known under that name, who were in reality but that Latin population which had 
 been overrun by the Lombards. This is but one of the equivocations of architectural history. 
 Far from erecting churches, the Lombards thought only of destroying them. The few churches 
 which were built in Upper Italy, during the dominion of the Lombards there, were the work of 
 the Latin population, who in the midst of those melancholy days of invasion had still preserved 
 the corporation of the magistri comacini. 
 
196 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Roman structures coarsely understood and badly executed. To at- 
 tribute to the barbarians an expansive influence in the presence of 
 the Latin traditions and monuments, which at that epoch were still 
 extant in Italy and Gaul, and in the presence of those Greek By- 
 zantine arts, which were then shedding a brilliant lustre over the 
 world, is very much like maintaining that the Italian Renaissance of 
 the fifteenth century was provoked by the Swiss or Westphalians. 
 
 But it is useless to dwell longer upon a question which, though 
 decided in the negative many years ago by the strongest evidence, 
 has for some unexplained reason been lately revived. In political 
 history, the most important events — those which have exercised the 
 greatest influence upon nations — are sometimes attributed to very 
 slight causes ; 1 always find it hard to believe such theories, and, 
 when applied to the history of the arts, I reject them promptly and 
 decidedly. The progress of the arts is deliberate, inductive, and 
 logical ; great results in this progress can only be obtained after 
 large, consistent, and regular efforts, and by following perpetuated or 
 revived traditions, the course of which, with a little investigation, can 
 readily be discovered. If there are sudden revolutions and startling 
 changes in politics, there are none in the arts, and especially in the 
 art of architecture. A people makes new laws, or changes its re- 
 ligious creed, because a law is but a text, a creed reposes upon 
 dogmas which at a given moment are admitted by civilization ; 
 but the arts, and architecture in particular, depend essentially upon 
 traditions, manners, and customs, upon the resources of industry, and 
 upon circumstances which human power can modify only after much 
 study and many experiments. Europe became Christian, yet for a 
 long time preserved the manners, forms, customs, and consequently the 
 architecture, of pagan antiquity ; but Christianity must change these 
 manners, the soil of Italy, Gaul, and Spain must for centuries suffer 
 tumultuous irruptions of barbarous hordes, Roman traditions must 
 disappear, before the foundations of a new art can be laid, and, even 
 then, they must rest upon the ruined monuments of Roman power ; 
 but, above all, it is essential that the ideas which are to create such 
 revolutions should take a new course. Thus, at Byzantium, the 
 degenerated Roman spirit was absorbed by the spirit of the Greek, 
 which was more active and better fitted to receive Christianity. In 
 the West, Christianity found itself in the presence of primitive, bar- 
 barous nations, and could influence them much more readily than it 
 
THE FUNCTION OF THE GREEKS AS CIVILIZERS. 197 
 
 had the old Roman organizations. If the letters and arts of that time 
 were to be revived, Byzantium, or at least the spirit which emanated 
 from the Eastern empire, must be the fountain-head of the Revival. 
 
 It is thus from the antique Greek spirit that the first elements of 
 mediaeval art were derived. 
 
 I have already had occasion to dwell upon the distinction between 
 the Greek and the Roman spirit ; the Greek reasoned, discussed, and 
 investigated with tireless zeal ; in philosophy, he was fertile in ideas, 
 yet never settled down on a conviction ; but, in the perfection of his 
 intelligence, he perceived that this incessant unrest of the mind was 
 dangerous ; and so, as soon as he could persuade himself that a 
 material thing, a form, was good, he declared that form immutable, 
 an order. At Byzantium the Greeks exhibited the same contradic- 
 tion, the same strange opposition between their instinct and their 
 spirit ; their instinct led them to give to plastic art a hieratic form, 
 to fix material beauty so that the tradition of it might never be lost, 
 while their spirit urged them into every walk of intellectual inquiry, 
 to discuss the abstractions of philosophy and the dogmas of religion. 
 Seated midway between the East and the West, the Greek was 
 endowed, as it were, with double faculties : he cherished the beau- 
 tiful in art, as an immutable principle, with tender and scrupulous 
 care, strenuously when necessary, while he opened to modern times 
 the boundless fields of physical and moral science, and of philosophic 
 discussion. In the employment of the arts he remained antique, else- 
 where his spirit was essentially modern. The Greeks, like all people 
 who have been the leaders of civilization, were always inclined to 
 place themselves in opposition to the nearest dominating influence. 
 Thus the ancient Greeks, placed against the great immovable back- 
 ground of Asiatic nationalities, presented the image of movement, — 
 of intellectual, philosophic, commercial, and artistic activity. But, 
 on the contrary, when the political power of Rome was established 
 among them, and they had nothing more to apprehend from that great 
 power in their rear, — the enervating influence of the East, which to its 
 most remote boundaries also passed under the yoke of the empire, — - 
 their position in the history of civilization was reversed ; so that when 
 finally the West fell into disorder and barbarism, and was enveloped 
 in a profound darkness, which threatened to overwhelm the whole 
 civilized world, they assumed the attitude of conservatives. Thus 
 the Greeks, who, in the presence of Oriental immobility, made them- 
 
198 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 selves Occidentals in spirit, at a later clay, in the presence of western 
 barbarism, became Orientals ; so that, by becoming immovable in 
 their turn, they might, through the stormy darkness, remain the 
 guardians of civilization, humanity, and the arts. We are justified 
 in proclaiming the Greek people, whether by instinct or by calcula- 
 tion, the great civilizers of ancient and Christian Europe. Through 
 the Dark Ages of Europe, from the fifth to the twelfth centuries, they 
 were the jealous and exclusive protectors of letters, arts, and indus- 
 try, keeping them safe from all change in a sacred repository of faith- 
 ful tradition; as if they thought, through that sad gap of history, to 
 transmit intact to more prosperous times the accumulated treasures 
 of knowledge. The very people who, from the time of Augustus to 
 that of Constantine, had urged art into every path of caprice and 
 fantasy, who seemed to have forgotten style and all its requirements, 
 and who had lost the artist in the artisan, refinement of conception in 
 mere elegance of mechanical execution, this very people, from the 
 moment when they found themselves face to face with actual barba- 
 rism, not only paused in their path of decline, but, by a supreme 
 effort, worthy of the highest admiration, returned to the pure sources 
 of art, — the types ; reconstituted those types according to the neces- 
 sities of the time, established them on a firm basis, and availed them- 
 selves of the remnants of the powerful imperial Roman organization 
 for protection while engaged in these labors of modification. While 
 the emperor in the East remained the Pontifex maxim ns of the new 
 worship as he had been of the old at Rome, while he was the chief 
 of a doctrine, he remained also the chief of an art declared immutable 
 as a dogma. It was in this depository, thus religiously preserved, 
 that for many centuries the reviving West came to seek for the germs 
 of its arts, its sciences, and its industry ; when these germs were at 
 length developed, the empire of the East, enfeebled by its long atti- 
 tude of immobility, debauched and effete, was, in its turn, over- 
 whelmed in the flood of barbarism ; so true it is that, in this world, 
 nations, like men, have a task to fulfil, and, when the work is done, 
 they disappear forever. 
 
 I have endeavored briefly to explain how Greek art influenced the 
 first mediaeval centuries. It is now necessary to explain how this 
 influence acted in the West, and how modern arts were thence de- 
 veloped. 1 have lately said that the Byzantine Greeks, after the 
 establishment of the empire among them, retraced their steps and 
 
GREEK INFLUENCE ON WESTERN AET. 
 
 199 
 
 abandoned the freedom which had distinguished their art since Peri- 
 cles, to shut themselves up in hieratic forms in the presence of the 
 barbarism of the West. No people ever understood style better than 
 the Greeks ; with them it was an affair of instinct, or rather of rea- 
 son. But from the time of Pericles, and after the Peloponnesian 
 wars, Greek art, while preserving its admirable mechanical execution, 
 rapidly tended towards realism. Soon, absorbed in the irresistible 
 power of Rome, the Greeks became the entertainers, the artists, the 
 tamers of the Roman colossus. Comprehending at once that, even if 
 they had been able to conquer and possess the East, they would have 
 been powerless in face of the political organization of the Romans, 
 they resigned themselves to the task of becoming the instructors of 
 their rude protectors in the arts, in philosophy, and in polite litera- 
 ture ; but while communicating to their indifferent masters all that 
 they had most precious, their art naturally lost that delicate perfume 
 which can exhale only under genial skies. A man cannot undertake 
 to tame a barbarian (and, to the Greek, the Roman was barbarous), 
 without becoming somewhat of a barbarian himself; and woe to the 
 artist who yields to a master without sympathy for matters of art ! 
 The Greeks, then, very sensibly, did not amuse themselves by dis- 
 cussing questions of style with the Romans, for they knew they would 
 not have been understood, and, while submitting to the rigorous con- 
 ditions imposed by the Romans upon their architectural problems, 
 they contented themselves with the more humble duties of the deco- 
 rator ; their aim was only to gratify the pompous taste of their mas- 
 ters, and to charm them, if possible, by a brilliant, if not elegant, 
 execution. They did what was wisest under the circumstances : 
 they obeyed, and tried to become Romans themselves. But when 
 Christianity became the worship of the Roman empire established at 
 Byzantium, the Greeks once more assumed their leading position in 
 the aj-ts. Preserving all that part of Roman architecture which was 
 peculiarly Roman, the structure, they set about modifying the deco- 
 ration in the manner already briefly indicated. In construction they 
 allowed those bold essays which harmonized with their genius, but 
 these essays were ever systematic, the result of calculation and reason 
 rather than of caprice and fancy. Such a school, based upon princi- 
 ples severely observed, was naturally the best school for barbarous 
 nations, especially when these nations were endowed with original 
 genius and were not embarrassed by powerful traditions. 
 
200 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Charlemagne was the first who undertook to revive the arts in the 
 West ; but all that lie could do, with the resources at his command, 
 was coarsely to reproduce a few monuments entirely Oriental in their 
 origin. He, however, proceeded to gather together artists and 
 grammarians, manuscripts, stuffs, and furniture, from Byzantium or 
 from Lombardy, which was then under the influence of Byzantine 
 art, and thus introduced among the barbarians a knowledge of the 
 productions of a high degree of civilization ; this importation did 
 not cease until the West, in its turn, was able to develop an art 
 peculiar to itself. In order to form schools of artists, Charle- 
 magne could only address himself to that class of men who, by 
 the necessities of their profession, were students, that is, to the 
 clerks. The Franks, possessors of the soil by right of conquest, 
 were too much occupied with warfare, and with maintaining them- 
 selves in their domains, to think of the cultivation of the arts. The 
 inhabitants of the cities were sufficiently employed with questions 
 of their own self-preservation and defence; and, as for the peasants 
 and slaves, their precarious state hardly encouraged the idea of 
 devotion on their part to the study of art and the pursuits of 
 peaceful industry. But the monks, who were comparatively tranquil 
 and independent, soon formed schools of art, from which graduated 
 not only architects, but sculptors, painters, and artisans. Tims, from 
 the French monasteries on the banks of the Saone, the Marne, the 
 Rhine, the Loire, and the Seine, emanated, during the three centu- 
 ries from the ninth to the twelfth, the first notions of art in Western 
 Europe, including Italy itself,* though there are those who main- 
 tain that it was in Italy that all the western arts, from the time of 
 the Roman Empire, originated. But against this theory are arrayed 
 the most authentic monuments and texts. Italy at that time was 
 plunged in anarchy, exposed to every misery, and was not in a con- 
 dition to produce architects, much less sculptors and painters. If 
 convents or churches were required there, the Italians called upon 
 artists of the Clunisian order of monks, or they availed themselves 
 of the services of a few Greek emigrants who had been constrained 
 to fly from their country. At the end of the tenth century the Vene- 
 tians built the church of St. Mark : they adopted a Greek plan, an 
 ornamentation executed by Greeks, and used columns and panels 
 
 * See the “Dictionnaire raisonné d’ Architecture ” of M. Viollet-le-Duc, articles Architecture 
 and Architecture Monastique. 
 
 
FOUNDATIONS OF MEDLEY AL ART IN EUROPE. 
 
 201 
 
 of marble which they had stolen from the shores of Greece, at that 
 time exposed by the feebleness of the Eastern empire to the insults 
 of pirates from every country. In the North of Italy, however, the 
 Italians, during the tenth and eleventh centuries, raised some archi- 
 tectural structures ; but in the remains of these edifices we find only 
 indications of great indecision, feeble recollections of antique Ro- 
 man architecture, mingled with features from the hands of Oriental 
 artists. As for the southern parts of the Italian peninsula at this 
 melancholy period, history gives us but little information. The 
 Moors, established in Sicily, ravaged the coasts ; and Rome, long 
 since fallen in ruins, lived among the vast remains of her former 
 glory, or, if she still built, it was only by putting together the frag- 
 ments strown on every side ; art had ceased to exist there. This 
 ruined country, exposed for many centimes to continual devastations, 
 without industry or commerce, the prey of all nations, separated as 
 it was from the Eastern empire, and with no inherent principles of 
 life, presented, indeed, the saddest spectacle. But, on the other 
 hand, in the tenth century there was established between the East 
 and southern and central Gaul an extensive commerce ; Venetian 
 merchants, who at that time were the courtiers of Europe, lived at 
 Limoges, and corresponded with the East by way of the ports of 
 the Mediterranean, and with the North by way of the western coast. 
 Thus, during the tenth and eleventh centuries, the relations with 
 Constantinople were of the most intimate character, and the arts 
 of the West profited accordingly. 
 
 Let us now see among what populations and under what circum- 
 stances the arts of the East came to exercise their influence in the 
 West. When the Goths, the Franks, and the Burgundians succes- 
 sively invaded the Gallic soil from the mouths of the Rhine to the 
 shores of the Mediterranean and Armorica, they found the indigenous 
 people everywhere practising Roman arts. But after having devas- 
 tated the cities and the buildings, the new conquerors, when they 
 found it necessary to establish and defend themselves, could only 
 repair, to the best of their ability, the structures they had sacked, 
 or imitate, in new ones, the constructions already existing. In the 
 West, therefore, the Roman structure was never absolutely aban- 
 doned. But when, after the anarchy which followed the invasion, 
 a sort of government was established, the taste for luxury soon af- 
 fected the new possessors of the soil, and they desired to decorate 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 on- 
 
 (CUi* 
 
 these rude structures, which were the last vestiges of Roman architec- 
 ture ; they then had recourse to Oriental artists, and in a still greater 
 degree to objects which they could import from the East, such as 
 furniture, stuffs, utensils, and jewels. While preserving, therefore, 
 the western Roman manner, the sculptors and painters, after the 
 time of Charlemagne, covered their buildings with ornamentation 
 borrowed from these foreign importations. Thus a pattern of silk 
 might serve as a model for the sculpture of a frieze ; a casket or a 
 dyptich might furnish the type for a bas-relief to decorate a capital 
 or an arch-panel ( tympanum ). In this manner Roman architecture, 
 at some points, assumed a new envelope, while at others the local 
 traditions were loyally adhered to. During the ninth and tenth cen- 
 turies, the Byzantine influence was very unequal in Gaul. At Peri- 
 gueux, for example, at the end of the tenth century, a church was 
 built entirely Byzantine in plan and form, but Roman in its decora- 
 tive details ; some years later, on the Loire, the Seine, and the Oise, 
 monuments were erected almost entirely Roman in plan and struc- 
 ture, while their ornamentation was evidently inspired by the East. 
 
 The epoch, during which this mixture of Roman traditions and 
 Oriental importations occurred in various degrees, is conventionally 
 called in Prance Vepoqite romane (Romanesque). But as there was 
 as much variety in the union of these two elements in this style 
 throughout Gaul as there was in the character of the various prov- 
 inces composing that territory, it is well to designate to which we 
 refer, whether we speak of the Romanesque of the West, that of the 
 Rhone, the Saone, or the Marne, whether it is the Norman Roman- 
 esque, that of the Ile-de-Erance or the Romanesque of Poictiers. At 
 the same time these different styles have an air of consanguinity 
 which belongs essentially to the genius of Western Europe. 
 
 I have elsewhere * treated this subject with more precision, and 
 in doing so I believed that my statement that, there was a French 
 mediaeval architecture would never be contested by any one. It is 
 clear that, in speaking of a French mediaeval architecture, I referred 
 to the western architecture or that of the Gauls, since, during a 
 great part of the Middle Ages, France, properly speaking, did not 
 exist. Not anticipating any discussion on this point, I took no pre- 
 cautions ; I had heard that educated foreigners, who are not apt 
 to accord to us what is not ours, recognize and study a French 
 
 * See the “ Dictionnaire raisonné de 1' Architecture française.” 
 
A PLEA POP FRENCH MEDLEVAL ARCHITECTURE. 203 
 
 mediaeval architecture ; it never occurred to me to doubt its existence. 
 But experience lias shown that it is necessary to take up this ques- 
 tion ; if it concerned only our national vanity, I would not insist 
 upon the existence of a French mediaeval architecture, because art 
 has no country ; but it involves something more than a foolish sen- 
 timent of national vainglory ; it is a question of life or death, of 
 decline or progress, for western art. It is not a matter of mere 
 polemics, to overthrow the doctrines, called classic, of the School of 
 Fine Arts ; but it is nothing less than the rehabilitation of a mis- 
 understood phase of art, the product of western genius, fashioned 
 for us and by us, through a long series of efforts and struggles, 
 which, though pacific, are glorious enough to excite our admiration 
 and sympathy. I have endeavored in these Discourses to explain 
 the relations which have always existed between the genius of known 
 peoples and their arts ; in order to avoid doubtful phrases, I would 
 state that, by peoples, I do not refer to populations included within 
 certain political boundaries, nor yet to those agglomerations of men 
 who have no mutual relationships of race or natural community 
 of ideas, but to associations under the dominion of a dominating 
 thought, moved by the same emotions, to associations between whose 
 members there is an affinity of races and character. Antique and 
 modern civilizations established themselves in two very different 
 ways ; and, as it is well always to have a distinct nomenclature in 
 the physical as in the intellectual world, I would say that there is 
 a sympathetic civilization and apolitical civilization. I call that civ- 
 ilization sympathetic which is developed in the midst of an agglom- 
 eration of men of the same race, or in the midst of races having cer- 
 tain mutual affinities. Such civilizations alone possess arts peculiar 
 to themselves ; and the Greeks furnish us with the most remarkable 
 example of this form of civilization. I understand by political civili- 
 zation that which is obtained by the preponderating influence of a 
 people (sometimes of a mere handful of men), whether by reason of 
 its arms, its skill, or its commerce, over vast territories occupied by 
 races which have no consanguinity either between themselves or with 
 their conquerors. Such is the Roman antique civilization. The Ro- 
 mans formed a body politic or administrative, rather than a nation ; 
 there was, in reality, no Roman people , for the commons who filled 
 the streets of Rome, at least during the empire, do not deserve the 
 honor of this distinction ; there was a Roman organization, a Roman 
 
204 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 government, — nothing more. Properly speaking, there was no art 
 at Rome ; there was, indeed, a very perfect organization of arts 
 belonging to foreign peoples, but this organization, presenting as it 
 did at every step the strangest contradictions, cannot be considered 
 the true artistic expression of national genius. When we look around 
 us in Europe, now more than ever before, we cannot but be struck 
 with the extent of the influence exerted by various civilizations upon 
 art. In the midst of invasions and political catastrophes, and not- 
 withstanding the tendency of time and civilization to bring all things 
 to a common level, we find the question of races and nationalities as 
 ardent and lively as ever ; and shall we, who of all the nations of 
 Europe present perhaps the most striking instance of a civilization 
 resting upon unity of sentiment, on the affinity of races which arises 
 from a common habit of thought, shall Ave have no distinctive art ? 
 shall not this unity be expressed by a single visible sign? 
 
 The Romans, Avho required six hundred years to subjugate the 
 Italian nations, became the masters of Gaul in less than half a cen- 
 tury. This proves to us that there had long existed, among the Gal- 
 lic tribes, notwithstanding the points of difference betAveen them so 
 clearly stated by Cæsar, a certain homogeneousness. E T p to the end 
 of the empire the Roman domination in Gaul Avas never contested, 
 and certainly that domination could only tend to increase the unity 
 existing between the various provinces of the West. Then the bar- 
 barians, various in language and manners, precipitated themselves 
 upon the Gauls on every side ; they established themselves in the 
 territory, disputed the soil, waged wars among themselves, and for 
 many centuries used every expedient to break the unity of the native 
 tribes. The feudal system, also, which Avas established in. a some- 
 Avhat more regular fashion by the successors of Charlemagne, seemed 
 made to divide, not only the provinces, but the domains ; but mean- 
 Avhile, after the eleventh century, Ave perceive the slow but persistent 
 and continuous tendency of the various Gallic populations towards a 
 national unity. These Avestern populations, therefore, Avhich the Ro- 
 mans designated as Gauls, had, like the Greeks, a peculiar genius ; 
 and since they Avere almost alone in the West in this respect, Iioav 
 could they be without peculiar arts ? But, Avith singular inconsis- 
 tency, those who Avere the first to recognize this constant tendency 
 of the Gallic populations toAvards national unity, deny that they had 
 their oavii arts ; they do not attempt to explain, they merely infer, 
 
A PLEA FOR FRENCH MEDIEVAL ARCHITECTURE. 203 
 
 and take great pains to prevent the public mind from being imbued 
 with the idea of the existence of a French art, and present it as the 
 ingenious dream of a few minds led astray by a mania for system. 
 The energy with which this idea is rejected makes us energetic to 
 discover the principal causes of such a strange opposition, — it 
 shows us the importance of unveiling the truth, and leads to the 
 inevitable inference that the idea thus opposed is one not easily to 
 be rooted up. Among people who are not artists, the causes of 
 this opposition to the idea of a French mediaeval art lie in a vulgar 
 dislike of all French mediaeval institutions, as if the arts were the 
 result of those institutions, instead of being the most vivid expression 
 of the reaction of the indigenous races against the odious tyranny 
 of feudalism ; among the architects, the opposition is based on a 
 false, irrational, incomplete education, and in their dislike for such 
 studies as, leading them away from easy routine, require an incessant 
 investigation of the truth, and a knowledge of our genius and in- 
 stincts, judgment, in short, rather than formulas ; in the habitual 
 indolence of minds unaccustomed to use the reasoning faculties, it 
 must be acknowledged that they have arrived at the point of regard- 
 ing inspiration as mere fancy, instead of the result of profound calcu- 
 lation and of deliberate and thoughtful labor. 
 
 It is undeniable that the institutions of the Middle Ages left, sad 
 traces on the political history of France ; but the native artists of 
 that era were the first apostles of the enfranchisement of the op- 
 pressed classes ; they were the first who were elevated by intelligent 
 labor and the pursuits of science ; the first who awakened mankind 
 out of the profound slumbers of antiquity and the barbarism of the 
 earliest Christian centuries. Their works are visible protestations 
 against ignorance, wherever it existed. The cry of the oppressed 
 must not be confounded with the cry of the oppressor, on the ground 
 that in the tumult they cannot be distinguished from each other. 
 
 It is therefore in that corner of Western Europe which we call 
 France, and there alone, during the Middle Ages, that we find the 
 constituent elements of a national art, because there alone such ele- 
 ments were a part of the national character. Elsewhere there were 
 cities, associations of merchants, political constitutions more or less 
 complete, brilliant individualities ; but nowhere else can avc find a 
 country tending toAvards nationality, moved by community of senti- 
 ments in the direction of intellectual unity or inspired by -the same 
 
206 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 common faith in the future. Thus it is particularly in France that 
 the Christian idea as applied to the arts found the least embarrass- 
 ment in its development. 
 
 Hut what is the Christian idea as applied to the arts? 
 
 Christianity, with its new worship and its new dogma, sowed, in 
 the midst of the old Latin world, the seeds of incessant progress, of 
 spirituality as opposed to materialism, of moral and political enfran- 
 chisement, of solidarity, of equality, of continual revolt against bru- 
 tal force. The part played by the ancient Greeks in the presence of 
 Asiatic immobility, till they were interrupted by the political power 
 of the Romans, was assumed in turn by the Christians of the West ; 
 and as, among men, the same causes lead to analogous results, the 
 arts of the West, though starting from principles opposed to those of 
 Greek antiquity, were developed in the same manner, possessed an 
 appropriate style based upon reason and investigation, flourished like 
 them, and never paused till at length, from a progress by wholesome 
 induction, they passed to caprice and fancy, and fell by abuse of 
 their own principles. But, again like Greek art, the mediaeval art 
 of the West, although of short duration, has become an inexhaust- 
 ible soiu'ce of information for all who would consult it in modern 
 times. 
 
 It has been reiterated so often that we Frenchmen are Romans, 
 that we have blindly admitted the statement into our creeds. Be- 
 cause our language is derived from the Latin, because our laws are 
 in part copies of those of the Romans, and because for. three hun- 
 dred years we have persisted in making very bad imitations of Roman 
 monuments, we really believe that we are Latins. Let us examine 
 this question. The Romans were not, and did not profess to be, 
 artists ; but, as has been repeatedly stated, all their artists 'were 
 Greek ; the Roman constructed, but he had no care for the form in 
 which his construction was enclosed. And when he had settled upon 
 a construction as good, it became, as it were, a law, which, even 
 to the last days of the Lower Empire, continued to be observed 
 with peculiar fidelity. The Romans never discussed questions of ar- 
 tistic principle ; they were never enthusiasts ; they were politicians, 
 legislators, administrators ; they were neither commercial, industrial, 
 learned, nor philosophic; for every Roman philosopher and savant 
 drew all his inspiration from Greek sources ; they troubled them- 
 selves little about enlightening the human race or communicating 
 
FRENCH GENIUS, GREEK, NOT ROMAN. 
 
 207 
 
 ideas and principles ; they were content to govern nations and leave 
 them as they were ; they administered, but they did not civilize. 
 Now, what was the case in the West, from the time when we emerged 
 from barbarism up to the seventeenth century P Just the reverse : 
 we were bad politicians, miserable legislators, and poor administra- 
 tors ; so far from governing others, we hardly knew how to govern 
 ourselves. But, on the other hand, we find that schools were opened 
 in Paris in the twelfth century, and all Europe flocked to them ; we 
 studied the Greek philosophers. It was at Paris, in the thirteenth 
 century, that the encyclopaedic movement began, and the movement 
 has been continued down to our day ; it was at Paris that learning 
 flrst began to pierce through the darkness of the Middle Ages. 
 There scholars and men of letters disputed on every occasion and on 
 every subject ; they reasoned, analyzed, wrote, and investigated cease- 
 lessly. Finally, an art arose, cloister-bred, the issue of Roman tradi- 
 tions and Byzantine influences, — the Romanesque or rouncl-archecl 
 style. Before long this was developed into a new style, the Pointed, 
 practised exclusively by laymen ; and this style, the daughter of 
 geometry and of the newly discovered laws concerning the equi- 
 librium of forces, was industriously pushed on, till finally it passed 
 beyond the point of natural and healthy development. The in- 
 ferior classes coalesced, and, by force or address, obtained privileges ; 
 then there arose among them merchants, agriculturists, mechanics, 
 who covered a great part of Europe with the results of their indus- 
 try. France at this period had, it is true, like the Romans, the 
 spirit of conquest ; but it did not have their spirit of tenacity with 
 respect to conquests ; for Frenchmen did not know how to live out- 
 side of their country and away from their national sympathies and 
 habits. England is wherever the English are; but, for the French, 
 France is only in France. The Romans made war only to insure 
 and extend their material power, to colonize barbarous countries, 
 and to enrich themselves. They stole from those countries, not only 
 their products, their slaves, and their wealth, but such usages as they 
 thought good ; in exchange, they gave the conquered nations a pro- 
 tection, which was sometimes illusory, forms of government and 
 administration, agriculturists, prefects, roads, bridges, canals, and 
 buildings. France, on the contrary, took from her neighbors neither 
 their customs nor their ideas, but often gave them her own. In 
 short, if she is Roman, in what respect is she so ? 
 
208 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Thus, dating from the eleventh century, Western Europe, although 
 appropriating the works of antiquity and making them the base of all 
 its architectural studies, began to produce a new style of art which 
 belonged to it, and which was very far from being Roman. It is 
 customary to assert that the Crusades exercised considerable influence 
 over western art. But facts evidently contradict this hypothesis. 
 The first Crusade took place in 1096, the second in 1147 ; and it 
 was precisely in the twelfth century that the arts of architecture and 
 sculpture in the West underwent a transformation indeed, but one 
 which, so far from bringing them nearer to Oriental art, removed 
 them farther from it. These questions, generally treated by amateurs 
 and not by architects, have always been examined in a superficial 
 manner ; these authors have misused dates, have deduced sudden 
 conclusions from appearances, and have theorized without investiga- 
 tion ; the error has been repeated, and finally has been established as 
 unquestionable truth. It becomes, then, difficult to enforce a new 
 theory based upon a thorough study of the subject. Yet this is the 
 task I have laid out for myself. This study we should regard as 
 something more than a mere archaeological question, and I shall 
 not try to conceal that my real aim in pursuing it is, not only to 
 explain the origin of modern art, but, as a consequence, its true 
 path of progress. I believe this is the only way to obtain for this 
 art a fruitful, free, and unrestrained development. It is a maxim 
 which should be engraved in the hearts of all architects, that we must 
 first know what we are before we can know what we should and 
 -can do. 
 
 No sooner was western art disengaged from barbarism, than it 
 manifested tendencies opposed to the fundamental principles of 
 Roman art. This movement began where the arts were practised 
 after the Revival attempted by Charlemagne, — in the cloisters, and 
 especially in the eleventh century, when the monks of Cluny had at- 
 tained their greatest splendor. At this time these western monks 
 sought, not only new combinations of plans, but a system of con- 
 struction established upon laws which the Romans either did not 
 know or did not admit. As for statuary and painted or sculptured 
 decorations, these were frankly obtained from Byzantine njotives. 
 But, as regards the disposition of plans and construction, the west- 
 ern architects, even so early as the tenth century, aimed to con- 
 
C H AR ACTE El STIC DEVELOPMENTS IN CHRISTIAN APT. 209 
 
 ciliate two conflicting principles, and thus entered at once into op- 
 position to the laws laid down by the Romans. The Roman plan 
 indicated perfectly whether the building was vaulted or covered with 
 a wooden roof. If the edifice was vaulted, like the greater part of 
 the Baths of Caracalla, the plan was solid ; the masses of the struc- 
 ture were arranged in such a manner as to offer resistance to every 
 thrust of the vaulting : it was a system of cellular construction. If 
 it was not vaulted, it resembled the Greek plan, and was composed 
 only of longitudinal walls and of points of support, which, as they 
 bore only a vertical weight, were slender. The Greek plan was easy 
 to trace, was simple, economical, and exacted but few materials. 
 But the Roman plan required complicated and scientific combina- 
 tions, and was very costly on account of the prodigious masses of ma- 
 terial which it called for ; according to the Roman method of con- 
 struction, a building had to be erected with rapidity, thus requir- 
 ing extensive resources of labor and transportation, and the establish- 
 ment, on the site of the work, of a great depository of building ma- 
 terials. Neither the monks nor the nobles of the tenth and eleventh 
 centuries possessed the immense resources of men and material which 
 the Romans had at their command throughout the empire, and they 
 were, therefore, constrained to abandon the Roman plans in favor of 
 the simpler arrangement of the basilica, or of such unvaultecl build- 
 ings as the Greeks were accustomed to erect. Yet it was not long 
 before they recognized the utility of vaults, especially in the damp 
 and changeful climates where they were called upon to build. The 
 wooden roofs they had erected were destroyed by fire or rapidly de- 
 teriorated. The architects, therefore, while they desired to retain, 
 both for their civil and religious structures, the simpler arrangement 
 of plan to which we have referred, were soon entirely occupied by the 
 idea of replacing the wooden roofs by vaults. Here, then, were the 
 two conflicting principles for the first time brought together. 1 have 
 elsewhere* detailed the numerous efforts of Romanesque art to con- 
 ciliate them. It will be enough for our present purposes to indicate 
 the principal results of these efforts. At first, a greater thickness 
 was given to the longitudinal walls, to enable them to resist the 
 thrust of the vaulting ; but this expedient was soon found to be not 
 only costly, but insufficient in constructions on a large scale. Next 
 
 * See the “Dictionnaire raisonné de l’Architecture française du X° au XVI 0 siècles.” Arti- 
 cles Architecture and Construction. 
 
 1 ± 
 
210 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 the thrust was divided by cross-vaulting so as to bear on certain 
 points which were strengthened for the purpose by pilasters or piers 
 built in the wall. Then, in order to leave the interiors free, these 
 piers, to resist the oblique thrusts, were built upon the outside of 
 the structure, which was equivalent to building a structure and mak- 
 ing all the points of support independent, as it were, of the struc- 
 ture itself, like stays or props. Stability was then given to these 
 exterior points of support by surmounting them with heavy weights 
 in the form of pinnacles, rather than by enlarging their area or pro- 
 jection. By these successive experiments, results were at last ob- 
 tained very different in character from the point of departure, and 
 resembling neither the simple principles of Greek art nor those of 
 Roman or Byzantine art. 
 
 A diagram will explain the transformations which the ancient 
 basilica covered by a wooden roof sustained before arriving at the 
 vaulted basilica of the thirteenth century (Fig. 24). A is the plan of 
 
 Fig. 24. 
 
 a Roman room or basilica, with a nave and two aisles, covered by a 
 wooden roof. When the Romanesque architects desired to replace 
 this roof by a vault, they gave, as in B, greater thickness both to the 
 detached piers within and to the longitudinal walls. But these pre- 
 cautions were found to be insufficient ; the walls spread, and the 
 edifice threatened to fall. They then, as in C, instead of the con- 
 tinuons round-arched vault, established cross-vaulting, opposite the 
 
Fig. 25. 
 

 
TRANSFORMATIONS OF THE BASILICA. 
 
 211 
 
 thrusts of which they projected exterior buttresses. Then, finding 
 that the longitudinal walls between the buttresses were useless, they 
 arrived at the plan D. In reality, the edifice occupied only the space 
 between E F. The buttresses G, to which were communicated all 
 the oblique thrusts, were built on the outside. Thus the longitudinal 
 walls I K of the plan A were cut into sections, and these sections 
 placed at right angles to their original position ; the same surface 
 was thus occupied in plan by the solids, but the powerful lateral 
 resistance presented by the last arrangement allowed the construction 
 of vaults with impunity. All this seems very simple ; yet it involved 
 an entire revolution in the art of building, - — it was a complete rup- 
 ture with the ancient methods. Three centuries of successive trials 
 elapsed before this new principle, whose consequences were capable 
 of infinite expansion, was definitely established. While the system 
 of construction was undergoing these modifications,'* the forms of 
 art were submitting to a corresponding revolution which is apparent 
 to the most careless observer. 
 
 The Greek orders of architecture were the structure itself ; they 
 represented but one mode of building; the appearance and the struc- 
 ture of Greek edifices, therefore, were essentially one and the same 
 thing. We cannot deprive a Greek monument of the order which 
 forms its principal decorative feature without destroying the monument 
 itself. It needs but a glance at a Greek ruin to recognize that the 
 Doric or Ionic order, of which the architect availed himself, is the mon- 
 ument itself. The Greek orders are nothing more than the structure, 
 to which have been given the forms best suited to the various functions. 
 But the Romans, in the orders which they took from the Greeks, saw 
 only a decorative means, which could lie removed, interchanged, or 
 replaced by something else, without the necessity of altering the con- 
 struction of the edifice, which the orders were used to decorate. 
 (I do not of course refer here to Roman temples built after Greek 
 examples.) I believe I have already sufficiently explained this fact 
 in Roman architecture. Yet the Romans, inspired by a positive and 
 practical spirit, often recognized that this way of applying Greek 
 orders to structures, dissimilar in every essential respect to Greek 
 buildings, was unreasonable and false. They therefore, in a great 
 
 * I do not think it necessary to dwell here at greater length on the various transformations 
 to which Western art submitted from the ninth to the thirteenth centuries, having explained 
 their history in the “Dictionnaire de l’Architecture française,” in the article Construction. 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 212 
 
 many of their edifices, such as theatres, amphitheatres, and palaces, 
 engaged the orders in the building itself, that is to say, they built 
 the columns up in the walls and used them as buttresses to give 
 greater area of plan to those parts resisting thrusts, thus obtaining 
 at the same time an exterior or interior decoration. But it must not 
 be supposed that the Romans invented this application of the orders ; 
 the Greeks understood this principle of engaged orders, and fre- 
 quently used it : one of the most remarkable examples of its employ- 
 ment by them is the temple, or basilica, of Agrigentum, called of the 
 giants (Rig. 26). But 1 do not believe the Greeks ever thought of 
 superimposing engaged orders, as the Romans did in the exterior of 
 the theatre of Marcellus, in the Coliseum, and in a great many other 
 structures. The Greeks, in using the engaged orders, were impelled 
 by a different impulse from that which actuated the Romans under 
 similar circumstances. The Romans simply used them as buttresses 
 presenting a decorative form with which they were familiar. They 
 built in one, two, or three stories, and piled one, two, or three orders 
 on top of each other (Fig. 25), like superimposed piers or buttresses. 
 But they reasoned so little in such matters as giving to an object the 
 form suited to its attributes, that they placed on each range of these 
 engaged shafts its complete entablature, as if each order was to be 
 the termination of the edifice. Now if, in this case, the engaged 
 columns, A, can be regarded as buttresses, and as presenting a util- 
 ized decoration, it must be admitted that the projecting entablatures, 
 B, laid from the top of one column to the top of another, are rather 
 injurious than necessary to the solidity of the structure, and that the 
 leverage exercised by their projection can only weaken the construc- 
 tion of the wall. Here there is a want of fitness, and consequently 
 of taste. It is bad reasoning, or no reasoning at all.* It may be 
 said, if this decoration satisfies the eye, the real end of art is obtained. 
 But there are rules imposed on architecture by the natural laws of 
 statics, whose importance any one, even if he is not an architect, can 
 recognize. Thus everv one can see that a column must not be more 
 slender at its base than at its summit. The eye instinctively admits 
 
 * But the Romans were not always so false to the true principles of architecture. Thus the 
 two superimposed orders between the arches of the two stories of the arena at Nismes, on the 
 outside, are treated like real buttresses, the lower order being composed of projecting piers, the 
 upper of engaged columns ; and the entablatures are used as a block over each pier or column, 
 and do not, as in the theatre of Marcellus or the Coliseum at Rome, form continuous projecting 
 courses, so clumsily and uselessly extending around the monument. 
 
Fig. 26. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
ROMAN USE OR COLUMNS AS BUTTRESSES. 
 
 213 
 
 this without the intervention of reason, which only confirms, analyzes, 
 and explains the instinct, just as written laws serve only to define the 
 instinctive sentiment of good and evil, of justice and injustice. 
 
 The Greeks, on the other hand, when they engaged orders in the 
 construction, proceeded on a true principle. As the order, with them, 
 could oiily be the expression of the structure, if they desired to en- 
 close the space surrounded by the order by building a wall between 
 the columns, as had been done before them by the Egyptians and 
 Assyrians, this wall was treated simply like a thick partition, whose 
 only duty was to act as a screen, and not as a support. To use col- 
 umns as points of resistance, piers, or buttresses, bearing the weight 
 of an entablature with the roof, and then to shut up the interco- 
 lumniations with a light construction,, a screen- wall, as was done in 
 the great Basilica of the Giants at Agrigentum (Fig. 26), was to 
 reason very wisely ; but to treat the voids as if they were the solids, 
 the screen-walls as if they were the necessary construction, and the 
 buttresses as mere decorative features, as was done habitually by the 
 Romans at a later day, was, with all due respect to the Romans and 
 their infatuated imitators, very barbarous reasoning. But the Ro- 
 mans went even further than this in the broad path of absurdity ; 
 they built archivolts under the projecting entablatures of the engaged 
 orders (see Fig. 25). 1 have already said that, in the eyes of a 
 
 Greek, this would be considered the height of the ridiculous, or 
 rather the mark of a complete misunderstanding of the forms of 
 Greek architecture. 
 
 At the end of the empire, in the great edifices built by the Ro- 
 mans on the eastern shore of the Adriatic and in Asia, the archi- 
 tects began to start the arch directly from the capitals of the columns, 
 without the intervention of an entablature in any form (Fig. 27). 
 But this innovation was due entirely to the Greeks, who, whenever 
 they could do so without disregarding the methods of construction 
 employed by the Western Romans, always submitted their designs 
 to correct and rigid reasoning. 
 
 But it is time now to throw a little light upon a very important 
 question in the history of the art of architecture. We recognize a 
 Byzantine art, and call it one of the new expressions of the active 
 spirit of the Greeks ; I have ventured to state that Byzantine art 
 was a Revival. But where did the Greeks obtain the elements of 
 this Revival ? By what means was the Greek art of the time of 
 
214 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. ' 
 
 Pericles so transformed P If, under the empire, the Greeks were 
 constrained, not only in their own territory but in Italy, to adopt the 
 pompous taste of the Romans, how did it happen that, after the es- 
 tablishment of the Eastern Empire, they found themselves in condi- 
 tion to apply at once new forms to the Roman structure without any 
 apparent process of induction and experiment ? To resolve this 
 question is to find the key of eastern as well as western mediaeval 
 art. Let us investigate the matter. 
 
 Fig. 27. 
 
 There is room to believe that, in their earlier days, the Greeks 
 borrowed the elements of their art from Asia and Egypt ; but, in 
 the time of their greatest splendor, that is to say from the destruc- 
 tion of Athens by the Persians to the end of the Peloponnesian war, 
 
ax 
 
 THE BASILICA OF FANO. 
 
 CONSTRUCTION OF 
 
 ROOF. 
 

 
 
 \ 
 
 4 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
ROMANESQUE TYPES IN THE EAST. 
 
 215 
 
 they carefully avoided taking any ideas from the Asiatics, with whom 
 they were waging continual war. During this short hut brilliant 
 epoch, the arts of Greece were radiant, and their influence extended 
 to the Bosphorus, and probably to a part of the coast of Syria, where, 
 however, long before this glorious epoch of Greece, there had existed 
 a powerful civilization, possessing arts which had all the energy of na- 
 tional youth. Phoenicia and Judea built, traded, and colonized long 
 before the historic times of the Hellenic peninsula. After having 
 stifled the last remnants of Greek independence, the Romans extend- 
 ed their empire over Syria and Persia ; then the Greeks, their habit- 
 ual warfare with the Orientals of Asia having ceased, became, by 
 commerce, the natural medium between the Levant and the West ; 
 they performed the same part which, at a later day, the Venetians 
 played between Asia and Western Europe. They found, in Syria, on 
 the coasts of ancient Phoenicia and in Judea, arts to the development 
 of which they had unconsciously contributed, but which preserved 
 the traces of primitive grandeur to a much greater extent than their 
 own ; they also found there one of the sources from which the Ro- 
 mans, in the time of the Republic, had obtained the elements of 
 their Etruscan art. This requires an explanation. 
 
 When Rome began to be of consequence in Italy, the people of 
 Etruria already possessed a well -developed art ; they understood the 
 vault, — not the vault of concrete formed over a wooden model and 
 hardened, but the arch made of hewn stones fitted together in vous- 
 soirs ; they constructed with enormous blocks laid together without 
 wedges or mortar ; this construction, the issue of powerful tradi- 
 tions, they decorated with flat pilasters, disks, and mouldings, which 
 were neither Egyptian nor Assyrian in character. Recent discov- 
 eries * have brought to light the remains of certain buildings in 
 Judea, which, while they have necessarily close affinities with Phoe- 
 nician arts, have also many remarkable points of resemblance to 
 those of Etruria; in both we find the same construction, the same 
 principle in the mouldings, the same kind of decoration, and, more 
 important than all, vaults made of enormous blocks of fitted stones. 
 
 M. de Saulcy, to whom archaeologists are indebted for these im- 
 portant, though disputed, discoveries, has been good enough to lend 
 
 * The monuments, to which we are about to draw the attention of our readers, and which 
 M. de Saulcy has brought together and described, were, it is true, not discovered by him, as 
 they have been long known. But to him is due the honor of having discovered their probable 
 date. 
 
21 G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 me the collection of photographs and notes which he made in Pales- 
 tine. If the archaeological value of these documents may be con- 
 tested, the exactness of the photography cannot be questioned ; and 
 for the architect who is familiar with the operations of the quarry 
 and the stone-yard, and who knows how stones are fitted and laid, 
 photography has all the importance of actual fact. This testimony 
 discloses to us the remains of what seems to be the platform ( stylo- 
 bate ), composed of colossal stones, on which was built the temple of 
 Solomon at Jerusalem ; and on one of the perpendicular sides of this 
 platform appears the springing of an arch which formed the ancient 
 bridge of communication between the temple and the palace. (See 
 
 Fig. 28. 
 
 Pig. 28.) This bridge was the one destroyed by the Jews when 
 Pompey was besieging the temple of Jerusalem, 54 years b. c.* At 
 
 * “And without further delay [the party of Aristohulus] occupied the temple, destroyed the 
 bridge which connected it with the city, and put themselves in position to defend it. The rest 
 received Pompey, and placed in his power the city and the royal palace, ” [with which this bridge 
 established a communication]. — Flay. Joseph., History of the Jews, Book XIV. Ch. VIII. 
 
ANCIENT MASONRY AT JERUSALEM. 
 
 217 
 
 B may be seen, as M. cle Saulcy admits, the restorations of the time 
 of Herod, while at C is the wall built in the Middle Ages. Without 
 pretending to join in the discussions which have been raised regard- 
 ing the age of these constructions, I shall confine myself to stating 
 what any one can verify. In the first place, the enormous blocks 
 which compose this platform are taken from the limestone formation 
 of the country, which is very hard and durable ; it must be admitted 
 that between the moment of laying these blocks and the present 
 century a very considerable lapse of time must have intervened, as 
 we observe that, although under a mild climate, these adamantine 
 limestone blocks have been to a certain extent decomposed, or, rather, 
 have lost their delicate laminæ, as indicated in Fig. 28. Again, the 
 wall-masonry, B, is evidently Roman, and is built of the same stone 
 as the arch-masonry, and the difference between the condition of the 
 two constructions indicates plainly a difference of several centuries in 
 their age. Then, in fine, these stones are not cut in the manner 
 of the empire; their faces are coarsely hewn, and a deep chiselling 
 may still be seen around their joints and beds (see Fig. 29), like 
 those which exist in some rare remains of Phoenician masonry. 
 Thesê joints and beds are admirably dressed, perfectly true, and 
 laid without mortar. “Titus,” said Flavius Josephus (Book VI. ChA 
 XLIL), “ having entered [into the city of Jerusalem after the siege], 
 admired the fortifications among other things, and could not restrain 
 his astonishment at beholding the strength and beauty of those 
 towers, which the tyrants had been so imprudent as to abandon. 
 After having attentively considered their height and thickness, the 
 extraordinary size of the stones, and with how much art they had 
 been joined together, he cried, ‘ God has indeed fought on our 
 side!’” 
 
 If this arch and the walls which serve as its abutments do not date 
 back to the primitive construction begun by Solomon, and continued 
 for several centuries after him, it must be admitted that they are 
 a part of the restoration or reconstruction undertaken by Herod 
 under Augustus. What date, in this case, can be assigned to the 
 later Roman constructions at B (Fig. 28) ? They must have been 
 executed by some one; but there is no evidence that, between the 
 reign of Herod and the siege by Titus, the temple was either rebuilt 
 or restored from its foundations, nor after the time of Titus does 
 anything seem to have been done to it. We cannot, indeed, furnish 
 
218 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 any certain proof that these stones were laid by Solomon ; but it can 
 hardly be doubted that they are anterior to the Roman domination, 
 and this is what I would be contented to establish. I am well aware 
 that in Syria, at Balbec, for example, there are many ruins of con- 
 structions built with gigantic blocks, which have been attributed to 
 the Romans, and that, since the Romans employed this extraordi- 
 nary structure elsewhere, it has been concluded that they must have 
 been the authors of the masonry of the temple of Jerusalem. This 
 argument rests upon an incomplete foundation. The basement ( stylo - 
 bate) of the temple of Balbec belonged to an edifice anterior to the 
 temple built by Hadrian. The primitive constructions are not dis- 
 posed towards the points of the compass, in the same manner as the 
 Roman temple which surmounts them ; and in the crypts one can 
 plainly see where the Roman construction joins the primitive base- 
 ment, which, like that of the temple of Jerusalem, is built of enor- 
 mous blocks. These primitive crypts, or cellars, are vaulted, and 
 the Roman vaults are built upon them. It seems not unreasonable, 
 therefore, to attribute such masonry as that in the arch of the bridge 
 of Solomon to the Phoenician epoch. 
 
 But it may be objected that to base an entire system or theory 
 upon a fragment of such slight, importance — upon two or three 
 courses of stone, in fact — is at least hazardous. It may be so; but 
 this fragment is not the only one ; almost the whole base of the plat- 
 form and a part of the enclosing walls of the temple of Jerusalem 
 still exist, and at some points these remains are still of great height. 
 Pig. 29 represents the southern face of this enormous basement, near 
 its southeast angle. Is it possible that we behold in this a construc- 
 tion of the epoch of Herod the Great, — of that king so devoted to 
 the empire, so closely connected with the Romans in all his inter- 
 ests ; who built the city of Cesarea, consecrated to Augustus ; who 
 devoted his treasures to the construction of the city of Nicopolis, 
 built by that Emperor; who, in fine, had himself visited Rome, and 
 kept ambassadors there? Do we not, on the other hand, behold 
 in this basement traces of an art primitive in every respect ? Does 
 not the wall, laid in retreating courses ( battering ), according to the 
 method pursued by all primitive nations, indicate a very remote an- 
 tiquity, and is not this enormous masonry, with its joints accentuated 
 by deep chisel-draughts, are not these venerable stones, flaked off in 
 their grain by the action of centuries, proofs of an age long anterior 
 
BASEMENT OF SOLOMON'S TEMPLE. 
 
 219 
 
 Fig. 29. 
 
 to the Herodian epoch ? If this angle is admitted to he of the age 
 of Solomon or his immediate successors, the fragmentary arch in Fig. 
 28 must be of the same epoch ; for the stones, and the manner in 
 
2.20 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 which they are cut and laid, are the same in this arch as in the 
 other most ancient portions of the platform of the temple. 
 
 Now it can scarcely be disputed that the Etruscans, as well as the 
 Carthaginians, with whom they had evident relations, are the remains 
 of a Phoenician colony, from which the Romans of the republic ob- 
 tained their first ideas in the art of building. 
 
 But the facings of the platform of the temple of Jerusalem are 
 mere walls, without any appearance of sculpture ; and if they do be- 
 long to a very remote epoch, as is proved by the dimensions of the 
 blocks, the manner in which they are cut, and by the fact that their 
 masonry has numerous décrochements ,* there is nothing here to indi- 
 cate a contemporary art. There are, however, in the neighborhood 
 of Jerusalem, quite a number of tombs cut out of the natural lime- 
 
 Fig. so. 
 
 stone formations which cover a great part of Palestine. M. de 
 Saulcy maintains that these tombs date from the epoch of the 
 
 * It is worthy of note that all primitive masonry is either cyclopean, that is to say, com- 
 posed of irregular blocks as they came from the quarry, but reduced to a common level on their 
 exposed faces, or décrochés. A wall is cyclopean, when the stone of which it is composed is 
 quarried with faces not parallel ; but in countries, like Judæa, whose calcareous rocks naturally 
 occur in parallel strata, it is clear that the builder must lay his blocks in horizontal courses. 
 But as the natural strata are of unequal height, the thinner stones, in workmanlike walls, must 
 be wedged up to a common horizontal level with the thicker ones in the same course, — an op- 
 eration (décrochement) requiring more experience than very primitive builders possessed. By 
 these indications, therefore, we can always discover whether a wall belongs to a primitive civili- 
 zation or to a civilization advanced in the practice of the arts. 
 
ANCIENT SCULPTURE NEAR JERUSALEM. 
 
 221 
 
 kings ; his opponents attribute to them a much more recent date. 
 But, first, it was not the custom of the Romans, under the empire, 
 to cut their tombs in the living rock ; second, even in the time of 
 Constantine, tradition, which should always be consulted, referred 
 thefn to the Judaic epoch ; third, the architectural style of these caves 
 (Jtypogœa) is foreign to Roman art. Let us take, for example, one 
 of the most important of the tombs, that of the kings (Fig. 30), 
 which, in certain forms of its architecture, and even in certain de- 
 tails of its mouldings, bears the closest resemblance of any to the 
 Roman art of the empire. The two supporting piers, indicated at 
 A, are destroyed. We behold here, it is true, the triglyphs of the 
 Greek Doric order ; but why may not the Greeks, primitively, have 
 borrowed this detail from the Phoenicians or Jews ? The sculptured 
 palms, garlands, disks, grapes, and especially that great carved square 
 frame, to which the entablature serves as a crowning member, are 
 ornaments which are neither Greek, Assyrian, nor Roman. A de- 
 tailed examination of this sculpture reveals to us, even in a more 
 emphatic manner than the general design, the idea of an original 
 
 Pig. 31. 
 
 art. Observe (Fig. 31) this fragment of frieze, with its triple palms, 
 the angular 'way in which they are cut, its bunches of grapes, and 
 its crowns, suspended by knotted cord. See again (Fig. 32) these 
 fragments of the frame, composed of olive and vine leaves. Neither 
 Greeks nor Romans, especially the later Romans, ever executed 
 
222 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 sculpture in this style. Fig. 33, a fragment of a pediment sur- 
 mounting the opening of the tomb of the Judges, also cut in the 
 rock, is an example imprinted with a character even more original. 
 
 Fig. 32. 
 
 If there is anywhere in the world a style of sculpture which has 
 any relations with this, it is evidently the Byzantine sculpture of the 
 fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries. Can it be pretended that these 
 
 rock-cut tombs date from so late an epoch as this ; and, if so, for 
 whom and by whom could they have been made ? But if it is ad- 
 mitted that they are anterior to the fourth century, and they are 
 
 Fig. 33. 
 
RELATIONS OP BYZANTINE TO PHOENICIAN ART. 223 
 
 attributed to an epoch no earlier even than that of Herod, it is evi- 
 dent that the Byzantine Greeks borrowed a great deal from them. 
 The total absence of all representations of men or animals in these 
 sculptures is worthy to be noted ; and all the tombs exhibit the same 
 character of workmanship, — a dry, precise, flat but sharply cut 
 method of execution, full of character, and at the same time pre- 
 senting a carefully studied design, and what may be called a primi- 
 tive touch of the chisel ; all these are qualities entirely distinct from 
 those of the sculpture of the Lower Empire, which is soft, clumsy, of 
 high projection, and great monotony in treatment ; in a word, quite 
 destitute of style, and indicating an effete art degraded in design 
 and debased in workmanship. Artists, to whom I would especially 
 appeal in this matter, can have no doubt regarding the primitive 
 character of the sculpture of the rock-cut tombs of Palestine. 
 
 But it can be said, with some show of reason, that these tombs 
 may date no further back than the era of Herod the Great, since Fla- 
 vius Josephus, in his “ History of the Jews ” (Book XI. Chap. XIV.), 
 referring to the reconstruction of the temple of Jerusalem by that 
 prince, says : “ The architecture of the porticos is very similar to 
 that of the rest of the temple ; between its columns is hung tapestry 
 of various colors embellished with purple flowers, and in the cornice 
 hang branches of golden-vine with clusters of g rapes so exquisitely 
 worked that, in them, art seems to vie with nature.” Now Herod, 
 in the rebuilding of his temple, employed Asiatic artists, who pos- 
 sessed their own art traditions, with nothing Roman in them. When 
 we remember with what care Flavius Josephus endeavors to impress 
 upon us how extremely jealous the Jews were of their nationality, and 
 how promptly they rebelled against every foreign influence, we can 
 readily understand that Herod, desirous of preserving that popularity 
 which had been so weakened by his unfortunate effort to introduce 
 Roman feasts and usages into Judea, would cautiously avoid impos- 
 ing a foreign art on the construction of the temple. Even, therefore, 
 if the tombs of Jerusalem could be referred back to no earlier date 
 than the time of Herod, they still, for these reasons, would have had 
 the evident mark of a local art ; and this is sufficient for our pur- 
 poses. 
 
 It is important for us to follow still further the chronological classi- 
 fication of tradition, and to consider more particularly the construc- 
 tions of the time of Herod the Great. We know that he restored 
 
224 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 or, in great part, reconstructed the temples. After him there is no 
 evidence that the temple was touched till the time of its destruction 
 by the army of Titus. This conqueror razed the city, and is said to 
 have left but two towers standing ; he made a solitude there, and it 
 was not till the time of Hadrian that the Jewish city was repeopled ; 
 but it never again arose entire from its ruins. It is easy to compre- 
 hend that, however ardent these destroyers of cities may have been, 
 they had every reason to be discouraged in the presence of those 
 monstrous walls whose fragments have been given in Tigs. 28 and 
 29. The prophecy, “ There shall not remain one stone upon an- 
 other,” was difficult to be accomplished by the hand of man. Thus, 
 there remain not only considerable portions of the platform and 
 primitive enclosures of the temple, but some fragments of sculpture ; 
 and, at many points of the enclosure, we can recognize perfectly the 
 remains of constructions subsequent to the gigantic masonry of which 
 we have presented drawings, and these remains are evidently Roman 
 in structure and can only belong to the reign of Herod. It is fortu- 
 nate for the history of art that, of this enclosure, there remains a gate 
 decorated with sculpture, and, although this sculpture and the archi- 
 tectural forms belong to an art much more advanced than that of the 
 tombs in the valley of Jehoshaphat, yet they bear the imprint of that 
 original art whose existence it is so important for us to establish. 
 In Tig. 34, which, like the preceding figures, is after a photograph, 
 I present a view of what remains of this gate, a fragment which can 
 only be attributed to the Herodiau epoch. The gate was probably 
 closed up with mediaeval masonry. It is in every respect foreign to 
 any Roman art. It is composed of a delicate arch, decorated with 
 very fine sculpture, placed under a lintel which is relieved by a dis- 
 charging arch above. It is worthy of remark that this lintel still 
 presents, like the blocks of the platform of the temple, a very large 
 chisel-draught around its edges, and in the middle a projecting 
 face. The masonry is well dressed and laid in close joints without 
 mortar. If these sculptures are of the time of Herod (a fact not 
 easily disputed on account of their position), the celebrated gate, called 
 the Golden Gate, is evidently of the same time, for its sculpture has the 
 same character. M. de Saulcy does not hesitate to consider this gate 
 one of the works of Herod. The construction of the imposts is very 
 Roman in character ; the two enclosing arches are of slight projection, 
 and the sculpture is admirably treated, preserving always, however, a 
 
Pig. 34. 
 

 
INFLUENCE OF SYRIA ON BYZANTINE ART. 
 
 o 9 r 
 
 Z 0 
 
 distinct Judaic character. Fig. 35 presents a detail of this sculpture. 
 The acanthus leaves of the capital, with the sudden bending over of 
 their tops, have a firmness and vigor of execution such as was never 
 exhibited in any sculpture of the Lower Empire. These capitals are 
 not surmounted by an entablature, but the archivolts start directly 
 from them, as in the gate of the enclosure of the temple. The orna- 
 mentation is well undercut, precise, and delicate, and, though pos- 
 sessing more energy, singularly recalls that Byzantine ornamentation, 
 which may be seen in the capitals of St. Sophia, and which appears 
 in so many articles manufactured at Constantinople, from the sixth 
 to the twelfth century, such as diptychs, covers of manuscripts, ivory 
 caskets, etc. 
 
 In fact it is not rash to assert that the Greeks, disgusted at the 
 degradation of art at the close of the Roman Empire, finding them- 
 selves in constant communication with the people of Syria, and in- 
 spired by the true Greek spirit, which forbade them from retrograd- 
 ing to their own antique art, seized upon these new elements, and 
 turning their backs upon the West, which did not comprehend them, 
 set themselves to fashion, from these Asiatic precedents or sugges- 
 tions, a new art, — a Byzantine art. The appearance of the sculp- 
 ture and its treatment make this fact very evident to my eyes ; yet 
 I desire that it should be equally so in the eyes of my readers. 
 
 The fragments to which I have just referred belong either to the 
 time of Herod the Great, to that of Hadrian, or to that of Constan- 
 tine. Although the Roman art of the epoch of Hadrian had a ten- 
 dency to approach the ancient Greek types, this tendency Avas limited 
 to a more careful execution, without sensibly modifying the general 
 character of the architecture. Examples of this occur even at Jeru- 
 salem, not only in the fountain called of St. Philip, but in various 
 other remains Avhich are as Roman in their details and- general effect 
 as are the structures of Rome itself. It certainly cannot be main- 
 tained that these gates and rock-cut tombs (Avhich are plainly ex- 
 pressions of the same art) are of the time of St. Helen. Y\ ith 
 Roman art under Constantine Ave are very familiar; in regard to 
 execution it had reached the lowest depth of degradation ; and if the 
 architecture of Constantine in Syria is distinguished from that of 
 Constantine in the West, it is because in the former country there 
 existed a brilliant school, and our argument in favor of the influence 
 of the S yrian arts upon the Avorks of the Greeks remains intact. 
 
226 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 The Greeks adopted Christianity with ardor ; this was natural, as 
 Christianity had been presented to them by their own philosophers. 
 They were therefore the first to repair to the holy places where the 
 new religion was born ; this, for them, was no tedious pilgrimage. 
 But when Christianity was developed in the territory of ancient 
 Greece, their communications with Palestine became frequent and 
 necessary ; and, when we consider their quick and sensitive natures, 
 we are not surprised to find them drawing the elements of the new 
 Christian art from the fountain-head of the religion itself. Both the 
 archaeological and moral aspects of the case, therefore, admit the hy- 
 pothesis that Byzantine art obtained some of its decorative elements 
 from Palestine. I am aware of the prejudices against this ; none 
 of us can forget the opinions of Voltaire concerning the Jewish peo- 
 ple; but this philosopher had not the most remote idea of the nature 
 and value of the primitive arts of Syria, and the very energy he em- 
 ployed to lessen the importance of the Jews, and to render them 
 ridiculous, should put us on our guard against his ideas on the sub- 
 ject ; we are not apt to take such great pains to destroy that which 
 really has no foundation, and the very bitterness of Voltaire against 
 the Jews is a negative proof of their actual importance in history. 
 
 The Greeks were always distinguished for their aptitude to appro- 
 priate to their own uses the elements which they obtained from 
 others. They were the most sublime of pirates, throwing into their 
 crucibles everything which they could lay their hands on, things 
 and ideas, to develop thence a Greek result and show to the aston- 
 ished world a production not to be questioned, but to be received. 
 In the presence of the innumerable hypotheses, more or less ingeni- 
 ous, which have been uttered regarding the origins of the Grecian 
 arts of antiquity and of those of Byzantium, which are so much nearer 
 to us, and so much easier to analyze, in the presence of all the 
 suppositions which have been raised since archaeology has become 
 a science, I do not pretend to have indicated, in these few lines, the 
 only trace of the origins of Byzantine art ; I have limited myself 
 to noting the facts. When the Romans stifled Greece under their 
 powerful hand, Greek art became a trade, and Roman art planted 
 itself everywhere on that classic soil ; and although the monuments 
 built there from that time were undoubtedly more perfect in exe- 
 cution than those of Italy, Gaul, Spain, or Germany, they were 
 nevertheless Roman monuments ; and this is so evident, that, in 
 
Fig. 35. 
 
INFLUENCE OF SYRIA ON BYZANTINE ART. 
 
 227 
 
 Attica, for example, the most casual observer, lie who is least familiar 
 with architecture, turns involuntarily from them, notwithstanding 
 the seductive purity of their execution, to contemplate those indige- 
 nous fragments of Greek art which will never cease to delight and 
 instruct the world. From that day, then, to the establishment of the 
 empire at Constantinople there is no trace of a Greek art ; if it 
 accomplished anything, it was done in obscurity ; then suddenly we 
 behold at Constantinople the arts of architecture, sculpture, and 
 painting take a new flight, assume new forms, develop new prin- 
 ciples, and affect a distinct character. The Greeks must have found 
 these new elements somewhere ; and we have seen that the only 
 monuments presenting — at least in their decorative principles — 
 striking analogies to Byzantine art are in Palestine, on Jewish soil. 
 We have also seen that, notwithstanding all opinions to the contrary, 
 these monuments are anterior to Byzantine art, properly so called, 
 and that, during the last three centuries of the empire, the Greeks, 
 formerly waging continual war with the Asiatics, were as constant 
 in their friendly relations with them. The inference from all this 
 is obvious. Even if we attribute these Judaic monuments to so late 
 an era as the last Roman epoch, to a time subsequent even to the 
 age of Augustus and Herod the Great, yet, as they bear no resem- 
 blance to the real Roman architecture of that period, either in gen- 
 eral effect or in details, they imply the influence of a local art, and 
 consequently of an anterior traditionary art. 
 
 Thus w T e turn in the same circle, and are compelled to recognize 
 that in Syria there was, at the Phoenician Judaic epoch, au indige- 
 nous art, which was not the art of the Assyrians, nor of the Persians, 
 nor yet the primitive art of the Greeks. It is true that we find some 
 traces of this art in Roman monuments at, Balbec, Palmyra, and 
 throughout Syria, but the construction and decoration of these monu- 
 ments are Roman in execution; their mouldings are covered with 
 ornaments, and these ornaments are always Roman. Byzantine art, 
 properly so called, could not have been developed from an art rapidly 
 tailing to decay, for never was a Revival erected from corrupted 
 types ; only primitive sources can furnish the energy for a long 
 career. I will not undertake to say that the Greeks obtained from 
 Judea alone the new elements of Byzantine art. Perhaps every 
 known part of Asia contributed its share to the result. But I con- 
 tent myself with the statement of this fact, that Byzantine art had no 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 228 
 
 essential resemblance to the Greek antique, and that it mingled with 
 the Roman architecture of the West certain new principles, some 
 of which we find distinctly written upon the ancient soil of Judea. 
 
 But what were these new principles ? The Greeks, who, in an- 
 tiquity, had invented the orders, or, at least, had given to them their 
 appropriate proportions, seeing how they had been misused by the 
 Romans, rejected them. They had recourse to other principles ; the 
 orders, which could only exist with the lintel or horizontal entabla- 
 ture, were regarded by the Greeks as inconsistent with the introduc- 
 tion of the arch into architecture; or if they used the lintel at all, it 
 was only admitted under the arch. The columns lost their character 
 as an order imposing characteristic form on a monument, to assume 
 the secondary position of the vertical supports of wall apertures, rigid 
 monoliths bearing open arches in thin walls. They often adopted 
 the square pier or isolated pilaster instead of the column, as may be 
 seen in the great lateral bays of St. Sophia, at Constantinople.* 
 
 The cornices of great projection belonging to the Greek and Latin 
 orders were abandoned, to be replaced by bands {string courses ) of 
 flat profiles, the bold horizontal projections, from this time forward, 
 being confined to the crowning member of the edifice. The orders 
 laid aside, the proportions of the columns, as well as their capi- 
 tals, became arbitrary. Carrying Roman construction to its utmost 
 limits, the Greeks finally arrived at the point of considering Avails 
 simply as open or close screens or partitions. Structure resided only 
 in the reciprocal abutment of vaults, resolving themselves into thrusts 
 and bearings upon certain isolated points or piers sustaining the 
 vaults. This kind of construction Avas very frankly developed in the 
 great church of St. Sophia. Byzantine art was not, therefore, as has 
 been pretended, a sequel of the decay of Roman arts. It a vas an art 
 which pushed to their utmost development the principles of Roman 
 construction, and, abandoning Roman decoration, brought together 
 and, with Greek intelligence, applied neAv decorative systems, true 
 in character and more consistent with these principles. It Avas an 
 art, not in decline, but rejuvenated and invigorated for a long career 
 of progress, in the course of Avhich it Avas to become the parent of 
 principles hitherto unknown. 
 
 * See also the two pilasters, placed outside the church of St. Mark, at A^enice, on the side of 
 the Piazzetta, and which, according to tradition, came from St. Jean d’Acre. They appear to be- 
 long to the first Byzantine period, and their faces are covered with foliage. 
 
ROMANESQUE DEVELOPMENTS IN THE WEST. 
 
 229 
 
 I have said that the Nestorians, after the condemnation of their 
 chief, took refuge in Syria, in Persia, and Egypt ; their sect at 
 length spread into Asia. They carried with them the principles 
 of the Byzantine Revival. Lor them, the Virgin was the mother of 
 Christ, but not the mother of God. They saw in Jesus Christ two 
 natures, one divine, another human. This heresy tended to do honor 
 to Divinity, not by the representation of His incarnation, but of TIis 
 works. The Arabs, who availed themselves of the arts imported 
 among them by the Nestorians, carried this doctrine still further, and 
 forbade the imitation of any animated beings whatever, either in 
 sculpture or painting. Art, thus circumscribed, relieved itself by the 
 use of flowers, material objects, and geometrical combinations in its 
 decoration. The study of geometry became then, among the Arabs, 
 the principal element, not only of the architectural structure, but of 
 its ornament. In this manner, Greek art, transported by the Nesto- 
 rians, was removed as far as possible, both in form and principles, 
 from its ancient types. 
 
 The West, beginning to cultivate the arts at the time of Charle- 
 magne, thus found itself in the presence of three principles, to which 
 it could refer for precedent and instruction. It possessed on its own 
 soil the remnants of Roman art, it borrowed all that it could from 
 Byzantine art, and yielded to the influence of the Arabic modifica- 
 tion of Byzantine art which came to them through intercourse with 
 Spain, Syria, and the African coast. 
 
 Latin by virtue of its ancient traditions, Gaul, as I have already 
 said, was hardly Latin in the nature of its genius. It was seduced 
 by Byzantine types, and was attracted by the Arabs to the study 
 of the mathematical sciences. As early as the tenth century its 
 architecture manifested tendencies far in advance of the practical 
 means at its disposal. Barbarism, although it appeared in the execu- 
 tion, did not exist in the conception. In the works of that period 
 we can recognize the efforts of accomplished artists, but seconded 
 by rude and unskilful artisans. The principles developed even at 
 that early period differed entirely from those of the Greek architec- 
 ture .of antiquity and from those of the Roman architecture of the 
 empire. Thus the Greeks employed the orders as an expression of 
 the post and lintel ; the Romans employed the vault and used the 
 orders as a feature independent of the structure. The Byzantines ad- 
 vanced a step beyond these ; while they aimed to give to the orders, 
 
230 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 or rather to the column, a true and useful function in their vaulted 
 edifices, it was used simply as an accessory member, in supporting 
 the arched openings of a purely Roman wall. But the western archi- 
 tects, when their Romanesque architecture was developed, intimately 
 allied the column to the structure of their edifices ; they made it an 
 indispensable member, but in doing so they were constrained to 
 disregard the proportions of the antique column. They considered 
 it only as a vertical support, to which they gave greater or less height 
 according to the function it was called upon to perform, without 
 regard to those fixed relations between the diameter and height that 
 were established by the ancient orders. This was indeed a disobedi- 
 ence of the ancient laws of art which would not be tolerated in the 
 modern academic schools ; but are there no other laws in the world, 
 that these cannot be disregarded without falling into barbarism ? 
 
 We have seen how the Romans superimposed engaged columns in 
 buildings composed of many stories, and how, when their columns 
 performed the function of buttresses, the entablatures associated with 
 them, by the leverage their projections exerted on the mass of the 
 wall, had a tendency to cancel the effect of the columns as buttresses 
 and to render them useless. Now in the West, on the other hand, as 
 early as the tenth century and perhaps earlier, the architects entirely 
 suppressed the intermediate entablature of these superimposed orders, 
 and, instead of two, three, or four columns which the Romans would 
 have placed one on top of the other, they used a bundle or sheaf of 
 them undivided in height, or a single great column, or a single cylin- 
 drical buttress, possessing but one capital with an entablature at the 
 summit of the edifice. If there were several stories, these were indi- 
 cated by bands or string-courses interrupting the columns, which 
 arose from the base either indefinitely elongated or in retreat at 
 each successive story (Rig. 36).* Thus from correct reasoning resulted 
 a new principle. We have already seen that, among the ancient 
 Greeks, when two orders were superimposed, the upper was but the 
 prolongation of the lower columns ; as, for example, in the Temple of 
 Neptune at Pæstum, that of Ceres at Eleusis, etc. (Fig. 37). The 
 Greeks thus felt that two superimposed orders should form one whole, 
 should have a perfect mutual connection, should be and seem to 
 be but two stories of the same structure, and not two structures 
 placed on top of each other. The Romanesque architects of the W est 
 
 * Ancient part of the church of Saint-Remy at Rheims. 
 
ROMANESQUE DEVELOPMENTS IN THE WEST. 
 
 231 
 
 knew nothing about ancient Greek architecture ; they knew only the 
 arts of Rome and Byzantium ; but, reasoning from their own point 
 of view, they arrived at the same conclusion as the classic Greeks, 
 
 Fig. 36. 
 
 that a building in several stories should not be treated like several 
 buildings on top of each other. Thus, in the process of sound reason- 
 
232 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ing, they destroyed the Roman orders. The whole question, there- 
 fore, is whether the consequences resulting from sound reasoning are 
 worth the loss of an order the use of which is based upon false 
 reasoning. Availing themselves of Roman and Byzantine arts, the 
 western builders gave birth to principles of their own ; and if they 
 betrayed irresolution in their choice of forms during the Romanesque 
 period, they showed no indecision in the application of principles 
 which were the issue of a judgment becoming sounder and sounder 
 with experience. This was not a bad beginning for barbarians. 
 
 The western architects of the Romanesque period were not in a 
 position to use large stones in their structures, as they neither had the 
 means of transporting nor of raising them ; but the Romans had left 
 upon their soil vast edifices built of very small irregular masonry, 
 
 Fig. 37. 
 
 rubble or brick ; this construction, however, was always regarded by 
 the Romans as a naked body to be clothed with marble, stucco, or 
 ashlar facing, decorated with monolithic columns. The Romanesque 
 architects, on the other hand, while they availed themselves of the 
 ancient examples as regarded structure, frankly took upon themselves 
 the responsibility of ceasing to make a distinction between the body 
 and the covering. The construction itself and its necessities imposed 
 the form and was the architecture. Tims, when the Romanesque 
 architect proposed to build a nave with two aisles, a basilican nave, 
 he did not raise monolithic columns to carry its interior walls, nor did 
 he concern himself to give to the columns or piers, which he built 
 
ROMANESQUE DEVELOPMENTS IN THE WEST. 
 
 of low courses of stone, the proportions of the Roman column. He 
 made them short, and square or cylindrical (Fig. 38) ; * or, if he 
 would avoid the heavy aspect of these supports, be fashioned them 
 like a cluster of columns (Fig. 39). f But lie soon vaulted the aisles, 
 while he continued to use timber roofs for the nave. He saw that 
 these aisle vaults tended to thrust the pillars inward, and therefore 
 that he must modify the pillars to enable them to offer the proper 
 resistance. Thus he was led to adopt a square pillar (Fig. 40), 
 
 Fig. 38. 
 
 against one side of which he built up an engaged column, A, to carry 
 the cross-vaulting or ribs of the aisle, two other columns, B, against 
 the two adjacent sides to bear the archivolts sustaining the longitudi- 
 nal wall of the nave, and, against the fourth or inner side, the column 
 C, which arose from the base to the summit of the longitudinal wall, 
 to act as an interior buttress against the inward thrust of the aisle 
 vaulting, and to bear the end of one of the trusses of the timber roof 
 of the nave. Here again was an instance of sound judgment, though 
 the ancient orders were sadly forgotten. Meanwhile the Romanesque 
 architect copied, as well as he could, Roman or Byzantine capitals 
 or composed capitals from Byzantine ornaments. 
 
 The Romanesque architects had lost the tradition of those excellent 
 
 * Cliurch of Vignory, church of Saint Etienne at Beauvais, of Tournus, etc. 
 t From the nave of the church of Saint Remy at Eheims, tenth century. 
 
234 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE, 
 
 Roman cements, which would have enabled them to compose a homo- 
 geneous masonry like a mass of concrete, nor did they understand 
 
 Fig. 39. 
 
 how to make hydraulic lime ; and they built on elevations usually 
 
ROMANESQUE DEVELOPMENTS IN THE WEST. 
 
 235 
 
 quite far from the great water-courses which furnish good sand. But 
 conscious that they could not trust to the cohesion of the poor mor- 
 tars which they used, they remedied the difficulty, resulting from their 
 
 Fig. 40. 
 
 want of means, by resisting or elastic combinations of masonry as 
 necessity required. Thus, for example, the Romans did not hesitate 
 to build a wall on two arches, whose outer surfaces or extrados met at 
 their springing over the centre of the supporting pier (Rig. 41), be- 
 cause the combination A B C, though composed of inclined beds, was 
 practically, by virtue of the perfect adherence of their mortars, a solid 
 
 Fig. 41. 
 
 mass ; but if their mortars had less cohesion, we can readily see that 
 the supported wall would slide down the sloping upper surfaces, E R, 
 of the arches, and thus bear upon the acute angle, R, like a wedge. 
 Ror these reasons, the Romanesque builder designed his pier, as indi- 
 cated in Rig. 42, bearing his two arches, A, on two capitals, B, sepa- 
 rated by the entire width of the pier C, which was strengthened by 
 an engaged column. This arrangement avoided the difficulty of 
 
236 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 bringing the supported wall to a sharp angle over the centre of the 
 pier, which thus became entirely independent of the arches and rose 
 from the base to the roof by successive level courses of masonry. It 
 may be said, this is not architecture, but construction. I reply that 
 we have reached that period of art when construction and architec- 
 ture could not be separated, when architecture had become nothing 
 more than construction combined in such a manner as to satisfy all 
 
 Fig. 42. 
 
 practical requirements, and at the same time to please the eye by a 
 well-poised arrangement of materials cut and laid exactly according 
 to the necessary forms and dimensions. When western genius yield- 
 ed to this principle, it began to exhibit its true tendencies and its 
 peculiar qualities ; for then it borrowed less and less from anterior 
 arts, and depended more and more upon itself, not only with respect 
 to systems of construction and general dispositions, but in the matter 
 of proportions, mouldings, monumental sculpture, and ornamentation 
 whether carved or painted. It is not for me to reproach the mediae- 
 val masters for thus shaking off' their dependence upon foreign arts. 
 
MONASTIC INFLUENCES. 
 
 237 
 
 In my opinion, we may say of any nation, “ Show me its architec- 
 ture, and I shall know its character ” ; for up to within very recent 
 times there have existed between the peculiar genius of nations and 
 their architecture respectively relations so intimate that one might 
 write the mental history of such nations after an examination of their 
 buildings ; and as in these Discourses I have imposed upon myself 
 the obligation never to advance an opinion which is not based upon 
 facts, I may be allowed to justify this assertion. 
 
 We have already seen how the arts of the Greeks and Romans of 
 antiquity were a faithful mirror of the genius of those nations respec- 
 tively. While the barbarous nations of the West, in the earlier medi- 
 aeval times, were engaged in mutual warfare, the Roman traditions 
 among them were undergoing a fundamental change ; yet these na- 
 tions meanwhile developed no new elements of their own. Rut after 
 this human deluge, nationalities were gradually reconstituted and 
 recognized, and their distinctive and indelible characteristics began 
 to be developed. It was not until then that their architecture as- 
 sumed definite form. In Gaul, the monasteries first devoted them- 
 selves to this art, and made it in their own image. But in the 
 eleventh century the monasteries were not what they subsequently 
 became, — mere collections of men embodied in the midst of con- 
 stituted society, that they might live in luxury and uselessness upon 
 the soil which had been abandoned to their occupation or which 
 they had acquired in the progress of time. The monasteries of 
 that day, when disorder and abuse reigned in all the levels of 
 society, were the asylums of men who, disgusted with the universal 
 anarchy and oppression of the times, sought some place of stabil- 
 ity and repose, where they might labor and study in tranquillity 
 and forget the world. The members of the holy orders were those 
 who yearned in some way to emerge from barbarism ; and the con- 
 vents were thus recruited, not only from the humbler classes, but 
 from among the noblest and richest of the land. These men in 
 this way formed regular governments in the midst of a society in- 
 capable of governing itself. It will readily be conceived that such 
 institutions were as useful and necessary in times when every prin- 
 ciple of authority and discipline was disregarded, as they would 
 be dangerous and hurtful in the midst of a well-regulated and 
 well-governed people. These incorporated bodies of scholars and 
 craftsmen collected together the remains of ancient architecture, put 
 
238 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 themselves in communication with distant nations, borrowed ideas 
 from those which enjoyed the benefits of civilization, and lent to those 
 which were still plunged in darkness. Their architecture was the 
 exact expression of this state of things. In less than a century, be- 
 tween the tenth and eleventh, they were sufficiently advanced in the 
 art to develop this expression ; they were humble in principle and 
 means, yet they could embody the splendid dreams of those who, 
 at the time of the reform of Cluny, fired by conscious superiority 
 of intellect, culture, and discipline, aimed at nothing less than uni- 
 versal dominion. This monastic Romanesque architecture Avas a true 
 and living art, because it expressed itself as well in the humblest 
 chapel, built in the wilderness in obedience to some pious vow, as in 
 the immense and splendid basilica of Cluny; it was an architecture 
 which, with the same methods, was capable of creating the most ex- 
 tensive as well as the most modest monuments ; like the religious 
 confederation which built them, its strength was the combination and 
 discipline of small resources. Meanwhile, the feudal fortress pre- 
 served the traditions of the ancient Roman construction, because it 
 was built in the same manner, by means of service-labor or requisi- 
 tions. At the end of the eleventh century, the monks, already at the 
 summit of their power, aimed at a corresponding splendor in their 
 arts ; they sacrificed to luxury without changing their characteristic 
 style ; but their magnificent edifices were often constructed with pre- 
 cipitation and carelessness, while the lay nobles, who, at that time, 
 desired rather to protect themselves with good walls than to adorn 
 their castles with the appointments of wealth, built substantially and 
 refrained from that architectural splendor in which the monasteries 
 were beginning to indulge. Saint Bernard, perceiving the danger, es- 
 tablished his reform of Cîteaux ; the movement was immediately felt 
 in the architecture of the buildings of that order. Thus, if, through 
 the Romanesque severity of outline, which was still the peculiarity 
 of all the Clunisian work, we may detect in the twelfth century a 
 decided tendency for rich effects, an unrestrained indulgence of 
 fancy or caprice in matters of detail, an increased refinement of 
 sculpture, mingled, however, with an evident deterioration in the 
 workmanlike qualities of structure, we may see, on the contrary, 
 among the Cistercians, the marks of a severe rule, in the care and 
 system with which they built, and in their observance of inflexible for- 
 mulas, which admitted nothing superfluous, nothing but a scrupulous 
 
IM U 
 
 THE CATHEDRAL OF VÉZELAY. 
 
 14 
 
 SECTIONS. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 N 
 
RISE OE LAY OR GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 239 
 
 fulfilment of material requirements by men wlio had no other idea 
 than the performance of duties. We can recognize the Cistercian 
 monuments at first sight by the economy and solidity of their con- 
 structions. We thus perceive that, during the Romanesque period, 
 there were certain various and distinct architectural expressions, just 
 as, in the midst of the politics of that day, there were various soci- 
 eties, all moving in a parallel direction, but no established social 
 unity. There was the architecture of the black monks, that of the 
 white monks, and there was feudal architecture ; but there was no 
 grand architectural unity, because there was no political unity, yet 
 every one of the architectural systems was a distinct expression of 
 the manners, tastes, habits, and tendencies of those who created 
 them. 
 
 It was not until the end of the twelfth century that a real national 
 spirit began to make itself felt in various efforts, attended with more 
 or less success, towards the enfranchisement of the commons, in scho- 
 lastic discussions, in the study of ancient philosophy, and in the pro- 
 gress of monarchical power. Enlightened men tended more and more 
 towards the encyclopedic spirit and the application of the exact 
 sciences. Then monastic influences disappeared forever from the 
 history of art. Architecture fell into the hands of laymen, and in a 
 few years abandoned the Romanesque traditions, not only in respect 
 to everything affecting the structure, the material execution, but in its 
 sculpture, from which all the suggestions of ancient or Byzantine 
 art were jealously excluded ; it was not among these, but among 
 the flowers of the field and the leaves of the forest, that its decorative 
 motives were universally obtained. In its statuary also it imitated 
 nature, and no longer adhered to those consecrated types from the 
 East which the monastic architects had so scrupulously preserved. 
 Then, in all the cities of the royal domain, was formed a nucleus of 
 truly national artists, who, in their emulation, urged the new art to 
 such rapid development, that the same generation witnessed its birth 
 and its maturity. This architecture of the beginning of the thir- 
 teenth century is the purest and most exact reflection of the national 
 ideas at that epoch. The reaction against religious establishments, 
 the desire for a national union and constitution, the spirit of investi- 
 gation, the thirst for knowledge, the prompt practical application of 
 all information as soon as acquired, — all these things were uncon- 
 sciously expressed by the builders in their works ; they reasoned and 
 
240 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 examined at every step, they believed in the progress of science and 
 indulged in the boldest experiments, without pausing for a moment 
 in their onward march. In this movement of general intelligence, 
 individualities soon disappeared, and architecture became a science. 
 We must not forget that the architecture of that day was cultivated 
 only by laymen having under them incorporate bodies or guilds of 
 craftsmen. It would seem that the middle classes, in the midst of 
 the political tumults of the time, felt the necessity of uniting for 
 the salce of giving free expression to their convictions ; thus, as it 
 were, declaring themselves independent of the past and opening new 
 paths of development. This class of artists and artisans, not being 
 able to claim political privileges, and not hoping to equal the feudal 
 nobility in power, demanded the liberty of the workman ; they 
 guarded all the approaches to architectural knowledge by initiations 
 and freemasonry, and their aim was to render these initiations more 
 difficult every day ; conscious that, with no material possessions or 
 political power, study and the practice of the arts alone could insure 
 them a moral independence, they studied and practised accordingly 
 with diligence and enthusiasm ; they complicated and made mysteri- 
 ous their rules of practice, in order that they might remain masters 
 of the art, and constrain the secular and clerical nobility to approach 
 them with the consideration due to a body isolated and abstruse in 
 knowledge and skill. To believe that the art of architecture in the 
 thirteenth century, the art called Gothic, was an art without intimate 
 relations with the society of that epoch, is to misunderstand entirely 
 the national spirit. It was but the awakening of the old Gallic 
 spirit, — the spirit which was passionate in the pursuit, development, 
 and practical establishment of an idea, which aimed at independence 
 by concentrating its forces in obscurity, which, in spite of all which 
 is said of its levity, could patiently wait and bide its time until it 
 could come to light by every available issue. Gothic architecture, 
 in its origin, was a protestation against monastic power ; it was the 
 first and most vigorous effort of science, investigation, and the pur- 
 suit of truth against tradition. Its monuments, Avhose structure 
 reposed on entirely novel principles, and whose decoration borrowed 
 nothing from precedent, are still before our eyes ; their stones speak 
 to us, not “ of suffering,” as has been lately said at the Academy of 
 Tine Arts, but of the freedom of labor, the triumph of an intelli- 
 gence which felt, acted, and became independent, which ironically 
 
FRENCH GOTHIC, A NATIONAL ARCHITECTURE. 241 
 
 concealed its secrets from blind and indifferent masters, knowing 
 that in time it would become in turn greater and more powerful than 
 they. Developed with incredible rapidity, arrived at the summit of 
 its glory in fifty years after its first essays, this phase of architecture, 
 having mastered its peculiar principles of construction and expres- 
 sion, soon urged these principles to exaggeration ; it vigorously 
 followed a logical progress which presently conducted to abuse ; 
 but, from the thirteenth to the fifteenth century, it never for a mo- 
 ment deviated from the line traced from the beginning; it perfected 
 its practical means as no art at any time has been perfected ; as re- 
 garded its structure, it finally arrived at a formula, and as regarded 
 its decoration, it reached servile imitation, and, in the end, trans- 
 gressed the bounds of nature ; it pushed realism to the point of 
 adopting, in its statuary, ugliness, but studied ugliness, as a type of 
 humanity. But never did the mechanical execution decline, as was 
 the case with Roman art : there was exaggeration and abuse, but no 
 decline ; so that, when the sixteenth century proposed to return to 
 the imitation of ancient architecture, it found at hand capable archi- 
 tects and skilful workmen, versed in all the practical knowledge 
 of their art. 
 
 Now, what do we behold in Italy during this period between the 
 thirteenth and fifteenth centuries ? At first, great indecision ; an art, 
 or rather arts, which experimented and submitted to very various 
 influences ; but no distinct principle, no relation between the struc- 
 ture and the decoration ; a love of luxury, of appearance , combined 
 with a barbarous execution ; it was possessed by the spirit of decay ; 
 its decoration was not ancient sculpture, nor yet, as in France, an 
 honest imitation of the local flora; it was a compromise without 
 style or character, a cross between Roman and Byzantine traditions 
 and the influence of northern arts. It was hardly before the fifteenth 
 century that we find at last, not an architecture, indeed, but archi- 
 tects, in Italy. It would seem that from the day when that country 
 was torn from the empire of Rome, it became the very image of dis- 
 integration. There were rival cities disputing the soil between 
 themselves, but no nationality ; and in the productions of art there 
 were artists, but no principles. Individualities were sometimes bril- 
 liant, but they were only individualities. Thus the study of the art 
 of architecture in mediaeval Italy develops biographies, but not his- 
 tory, and therefore can afford but little profitable instruction. The 
 16 
 
242 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Italians of the Middle Ages, failing to create an art as they had 
 failed to constitute themselves a nation, naturally reverted to imita- 
 tion of Roman art ; this movement was made a century before the 
 corresponding Renaissance in France, and was essentially a move- 
 ment of individuals. Thus we speak of the Renaissance of Brunel- 
 leschi, of Michelozzo, of L. Batista Alberti, of Bramante, of Bal- 
 thazar Peruzzi, of Sansovino. The works of these masters, whatever 
 may be their particular merit, are individual works between which 
 there is none of that affinity which we like to find in the produc- 
 tions of a national art, and which is so strikingly exhibited, during 
 the sixteenth century, throughout the territory of France, from the 
 Garonne to the British Channel. We shall presently see how, 
 through the influence of the Italian masters of the fifteenth century, 
 the young French nobility on their return from the campaigns of 
 Charles VIII. and Louis XII. in Italy, came to build Italian palaces 
 in France, and at the same time how shrewdly the French artists 
 in their employ preserved the tradition of their old independence, 
 and still remained French. 
 
 From the thirteenth to the beginning of the fifteenth century the 
 art of architecture in France was so concrete, so entire, so completely 
 under the control of an exclusive brotherhood, that no external in- 
 fluence was felt in it ; neither the clergy, in the construction of 
 churches, nor the secular nobility, in the building of palaces and 
 châteaux, nor the rich merchants, in the erection of their houses, 
 made any effort to submit art to their fancies ; they could not if they 
 would ; art was absolutely independent ; it was a power which they 
 could use when they required it, but which they could not direct ; it 
 acted with perfect freedom and governed itself : in a word, the archi- 
 tects formed a body possessing, in the domain of art, their privileges 
 and immunities, which no one dreamed of interfering with. During 
 this period of the Middle Ages every one kept within his own sphere ; 
 the clergy sought to maintain and to augment their prerogatives ; the 
 secular feudality struggled to defend itself against the encroachments 
 of royal power, and was in perpetual warfare with the clerical feudal- 
 ity and with the inhabitants of the cities and towns ; while royalty 
 was engrossed in the increase of its political power. But neither 
 clerks, laymen, nor king dreamed of interfering in any question of 
 art ; they did not perceive and consequently did not fear this new 
 and independent power which was elevating itself by daily labor ; 
 
FRENCH RECEPTION OF ITALIAN RENAISSANCE. 243 
 
 they found artists and artisans ; they employed hut did not govern 
 them. 
 
 But at the close of the fifteenth century, the nobility, on their re- 
 turn from the Italian wars, began to pride themselves on their ac- 
 quaintance with, and appreciation of, the fine arts ; they professed an 
 extravagant fondness for Italian works, and thus the body of amateurs, 
 which, ever since that time, has exercised so powerful but so melan- 
 choly an influence over the fine arts, began to be formed. On their 
 return the French gentlemen at once set themselves to replacing their 
 old chateaux and manor-houses by palaces in the modern taste ; and 
 adorned them with porticos, colonnades, galleries, and symmetrical 
 façades. The old Gallic artists, having exhausted all the resources 
 with which the principles of Gothic art could furnish them, were 
 then constrained to adopt the new taste of their clients. The 
 art-movement of the thirteenth century was initiated and developed 
 by artists ; in the sixteenth century they were compelled to accept 
 the art which was imposed upon them. But, while they adopted 
 the appearance of this new foreign importation, they preserved the 
 national spirit in their designs, and continued to produce build- 
 ings, which, while they were clothed in the fashionable garments 
 of the day, composed of a few fragments from the Italian Renais- 
 sance, still remained Gothic in general arrangement and structure. 
 As the ancient orders were called for, they presently adopted them as 
 a decoration ; the local flora of their sculpture was replaced by ara- 
 besques and their prismatic profiles by Italian mouldings. Jupiter, 
 Venus, and Diana, nymphs and Tritons, assumed the places which 
 had been occupied by angels, saints, and personages clothed in the 
 costumes of the day. The lords of the manors were delighted, 
 and even the artists, who at that time believed nearly as much in 
 Diana or Mercury as in angels or saints, were not less satisfied 
 at being disembarrassed of the remnants of Gothic art, which, in 
 the intricacy and extravagance of its details, had reached the last 
 limits of the possible. But as for the vital principles of that art, as 
 for the methods which were the daughters of many successive centu- 
 ries of experience, these remained unchanged ; and the architects, who 
 so readily exchanged their old Gothic ornaments for the fashionable 
 gewgaws of the foreigner, borrowed from him neither his methods of 
 construction nor the disposition of his plans. They continued to plan 
 and to construct like their Gothic predecessors, to cover their build- 
 
244 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ings with steep roofs, and to crown them with conspicuous chimney- 
 shafts, to build their porticos low for shelter from the rain, their mnl- 
 lioned windows, their narrow and numerous staircases, their grand 
 saloons flooded with light for receptions, and their smaller apartments 
 for domestic and daily use ; like their predecessors, they remained 
 regardless of symmetry, and still flanked their masses with towers 
 or pavilions, still retained their old traditions of defensive architec- 
 ture, still pierced their windows with regard only to the accommoda- 
 tion of the interior apartments, and still gave an independent and 
 characteristic architectural expression to the various subdivisions of 
 their châteaux. Meanwhile the noble amateurs applauded vehe- 
 mently when they saw columns and Italian porticos, arabesques 
 and Caryatides, on the façades of their palaces ; and everybody 
 said, what has been foolishly repeated ever since, that these edifices 
 were the works of the Giocondos, the Rossos, the Primaticcios, 
 and Serlios, who had come over from Italy to teach Frenchmen 
 the arts ! 
 
 It is worth noting that most of the artists embraced the party of 
 the Reformation as soon as it began to make proselytes in France. 
 But, in the midst of all its glory, the sixteenth century in France was 
 an era of constant and, at times, tragic insincerity. Every one de- 
 ceived his neighbor ; every one made a parade of sentiments opposed 
 to his real opinions or interests. Both Catholics and Reformers 
 were the most sceptical of people, but they waged bitter war against 
 each other for the sake of their respective religions. The Reforma- 
 tion recruited itself principally among the higher classes, who had 
 everything to lose in a social revolution, and who never applied 
 the Reformation to their own manners. The people, who had 
 nothing to lose by a social revolution and everything to gain, de- 
 fended their religious traditions with fanaticism ; but with this de- 
 fence of the Church and with their loyalty to the most despotic 
 of Catholic kings, they strangely mingled republican sentiments. 
 Royalty was feeble and indecisive at the moment when energy was 
 most necessary. And he who at length arose to restore peace to 
 the country, Henry IV., was the shrewdest and most ingenious mysti- 
 fier of all. The arts of the time were a faithful image of this chaos 
 of popular ideas. Confusion, with no unity or harmony between 
 principles and appearances, an exaggerated importance given to de- 
 tails, an execution often negligent, always mannered, indecisive, and 
 
PROGRESS OF FRENCH RENAISSANCE. 
 
 245 
 
 tame, were the leading characteristics of its architecture. A few 
 individualities arose in the midst of this general political disorder, 
 lnit they left no trace behind them. They were flashes, but not 
 light. The century, so brilliant in its first years, thus closed in the 
 midst of ruin. Meanwhile, under all this disorder, the civil spirit 
 Avas forming, the sentiment of political duty was developing, national 
 unity was still progressing to a fuller and more complete expression. 
 
 In the first years of the seventeenth century, we find a revolution 
 in the arts; they had recovered from their Italian fascination, and 
 the civil structures erected on Trench soil assumed a new character. 
 The disordered fancies or mystifications of the Renaissance, as well as 
 the Gothic traditions, ceased to influence design, and the old Gallic 
 spirit reappeared with renewed energy. Architecture became reason- 
 able, chastened, and modest in its ornamentation, and in structure 
 severe and studied ; it affected a sort of Puritanic rigor and simplici- 
 ty, employing only the means and forms necessary to the expression 
 of its practical requirements, and reaching a result of dignified repose 
 without pedantry. Construction was the main element of design, it 
 was emphasized and honored. The result was solidity without 
 clumsiness, gravity without nakedness. It was the architecture of 
 men of sense, comparatively well instructed, and free from the illu- 
 sions of prejudice. It was the expression of wealth without osten- 
 tation, comfort without effeminacy. In short, it resumed, for a short 
 career, that character of independence which it had lost amidst the 
 artifice and insincerity of the preceding century. 
 
 The architecture comprised between the close of the reign of 
 Henry IV. and the majority of Louis XIV. was truly French, and, 
 next to the architecture of the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth 
 centuries, it seems to me that which best merits the title. In going 
 over a chateau or mansion of the time of Louis XIII., we seem to 
 live among those who first inhabited it. These edifices were the 
 envelope and index of the society of that epoch, — a society which 
 was the last to leave a profound impression on the history of litera- 
 ture, science, and the arts, the last to be distinguished at the same 
 time for firm and independent characters and for that lively and 
 elegant spirit, that good-natured irony, which are the peculiarities 
 of the French people. 
 
 The long reign of Louis XIV. served, after much ado, to stifle this 
 final effort of the true French spirit in the arts. Louis XIV. loved 
 
240 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 to build ; but lie brought to the arts tendencies opposed to their true 
 and healthy development : for the arts can live only with the intel- 
 lectual independence of the artist. After the time of his majority, 
 therefore, the good and wise traditions of construction gradually dis- 
 appeared, workmanship became more and more negligent, masons 
 built badly, carpenters could not frame a wooden structure with 
 economy and intelligence, and sculptors lost that tirmness of hand, 
 that refinement of sentiment and feeling for truth, which they still 
 possessed at the beginning of the seventeenth century ; their heavy 
 chisels produced only works monotonous without character, pompous 
 without grandeur; the old craft-spirit and the trade corporations 
 disappeared ; and all that was truly national in French art became 
 effete and barren. I have sometimes been accused of undue severity 
 and even of injustice towards the arts of the age of Louis XIV. ; 
 although that age may be great enough in all which it has accom- 
 plished to be able to dispense with the tribute of my admiration, 
 yet I must justify my opinions. It is because I behold in Louis 
 XIV. a great king, that I cannot but regret to find in him a 
 spirit little disposed to aid in any true development of the arts. 
 When a sovereign manifests no disposition to interfere with cjues- 
 tions of art, but leaves them absolutely free, he cannot, be considered 
 responsible for their progress or decline during his reign ; but when 
 an absolute monarch undertakes to exercise an influence over eveiy- 
 thing, even over the works of intellect among his subjects, it is cer- 
 tainly allowable, I think, to render him responsible for decay in any 
 such works ; and no one will dispute the fact that the art of architec- 
 ture was more brilliant at the moment of the majority of Louis XIV. 
 than at his death. It was with his architects as with his ministers 
 and generals ; he began by calling to his councils Colbert and Lou- 
 vois, and ended with Chamillart and Ponchartrain ; he found De 
 Bi ■osse. Le Mercier, Blondel, and François Mansart, and finished by 
 confiding the public works to Perrault and Hardoin-Mansart, the 
 last one very fortunate in possessing the name of his uncle, but unfor- 
 tunately possessing nothing else of his. Louis XIV., that king so 
 French, so jealous of foreign influences in all other respects, saw the 
 arts only through the Romans, and what Romans ! He was natu- 
 rally wise, self-contained, moderate in all things, just and discrimi- 
 nating, yet, as he was ambitious to rival antique Rome, he succeeded, 
 as regards art, in completely crushing the natural and original genius 
 
THE HOPE OE ERENCH ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 247 
 
 of the French people, whose political unity he had cemented and 
 whose empire he had enlarged and strengthened. 
 
 After the middle of the sixteenth century French art was evidently 
 bewildered ; its history was a perpetual contradiction ; it lost its way. 
 Under Catherine de Medicis, both people and artists had a natural 
 aversion for everything from Italy, and yet they imitated Italian arts. 
 Under Henry IV. and Louis XIII., they swore by antiquity, and yet 
 the arts resumed their peculiar French character. Under Louis XIV. 
 the people thought only what Louis XIV. thought. Though the 
 most intensely national of all the sovereigns of France, he determined 
 to have a Roman architecture. Like a Roman emperor, he caused 
 himself to be painted and sculptured everwhere. Under Louis XV., 
 politics, like the arts, declined. Philosophers spoke in the name of 
 reason, yet never were the arts less reasonable. Under the republic, 
 the national spirit was developed even to delirium ; yet our national 
 edifices were overthrown, and Rome was rummaged for models. 
 While crying, “ Death to aristocrats ! ” France was endeavoring to 
 reproduce the architecture of the most aristocratic civilization of 
 antiquity. 
 
 I have no exaggerated patriotism as regards art. The arts, wher- 
 ever they are developed, belong to humanity ; I admit that they have 
 no country. But every people, or rather every centre of civilization 
 (for political limits do not always coincide with those embracing the 
 characteristics of a nationality), has, as I have already said, its pe- 
 culiar genius, its individuality, which should not be overlooked, 
 especially by artists ; and it is because we have too often committed 
 the error of not understanding the national genius of France, that, 
 for the last two hundred years, its arts, after so many variations, 
 have become debased, attaching themselves by their essential char- 
 acteristics to no particular time or race. It is a fine thing to have 
 the cosmopolitan spirit, to receive all human beings as brethren, and 
 to consider all ideas as universal property ; but facts are continually 
 demonstrating that, the French brain is not constructed like the Ger- 
 man or the English. It is well for us to profit by the ideas of our 
 neighbors, but let us not forget that, we have our own ideas, and, 
 most especially, let us not be deluded into the belief that., because 
 other nations may have been endowed with rare intelligence and 
 creative originality, it is impossible that we too should have the same 
 qualities. It is not my task to treat here of the present condition of 
 
248 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 art, but rather to investigate into its capacities for a truly national, 
 and therefore healthy, development. This is the point to which we 
 all should aim ; for I cannot admit that, while France exists, its arts 
 can perish. The sap is in a latent state ; and only a short season of 
 intellectual sunshine, only a little good sense, is required to send its 
 invigorating and prolific influences even to the feeblest branches of 
 the tree. 
 
 Perhaps I have dwelt too long in this Discourse on the epoch of 
 the transition of the arts of antiquity to the arts of modern times ; 
 but it must not be forgotten that we have to encounter deeply rooted 
 prejudices at every step. If these prejudices tended only to create 
 a misunderstanding regarding the importance of certain historical 
 facts, to perpetuate certain exclusions in the study of art, I per- 
 haps would not have paused so long to consider the Byzantine 
 arts, the principles of the western arts, their tendencies and value. 
 But these prejudices, it seems to me, are attended by a much 
 more serious inconvenience ; they create a complete misunderstand- 
 ing of the nature of modern western genius, and drive us, who are 
 better fitted than any other nation of the West for the culture of 
 the arts, to the last and worst expedients. This is unjust and ab- 
 surd ; it prevents us from profiting by the efforts of our forefathers, 
 and quite effaces the well-reasoned and cautiously deduced results of 
 long experience. Mediaeval art, to which I am referring, was unfor- 
 tunate in this one respect : it developed too soon. During this epoch 
 of development it completely disembarrassed itself of everything 
 which could interfere with its independence and its national char- 
 acter ; it modified its traditions, it admitted principles as liberal as 
 could be desired, it found a new path entirely unobstructed by prej- 
 udice, and all this while pursuing distinct and firmly established 
 methods. It fell with the feudal system under which it had been 
 born ; though neither itself, in its own essence, nor the people, the 
 laity, from whom it issued, had any sympathy with that system. It 
 was enveloped in the disaster of mediaeval institutions, but should 
 not be misunderstood and disgraced on that account. Because, for 
 more than three centuries, this national art has been so misunderstood 
 and disgraced, is no reason why we should not revive it, why we 
 should not seek in its principles, so large and so nearly assimilated 
 to our national character, elements which may be of essential use 
 to us to-day. Our character and our tendencies are the same now 
 
THE HOPE OF FRENCH ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 240 
 
 as when this was a living art ; for nationalities never undergo trans- 
 formation. Every day’s experience proves to us (and now, perhaps, 
 more than ever before) that neither conquests, nor institutions, nor 
 political boundaries, nor combinations of diplomacy, have any ten- 
 dency to modify the spirit or genius of the races which inhabit the 
 globe. The arts, therefore, so brilliantly developed in the era from 
 the twelfth to the fifteenth century, are ours, they are the result of 
 our labors and our genius ; as- they have shown themselves capable 
 of expressing the character and conditions of the past, they are 
 capable of a similar application to the present and the future. The 
 civilizations of antiquity perished, because they were composed only 
 of masters and slaves. In antiquity there was nowhere what we 
 now call a nation, that is to say, an agglomeration of provinces 
 united by the same spirit and the same habits of thought, all of 
 whose members are interested in the preservation of the national 
 unity and contribute towards it. 
 
 In antiquity we see absolute monarchies supported by a theocracy, 
 we see oligarchical or aristocratic republics, and a coarse, ignorant 
 population, the dregs and slaves of society. Every inspiration, every 
 movement, every intellectual work, every sentiment of dignity and 
 independence, came from the higher classes. Not so with France : 
 the nation formed itself and developed itself, independently of the in- 
 stitutions which were imposed upon it as the result of conquest, and, 
 even to this day, on great occasions, it often acts from a popular and 
 irrepressible impulse, contrary to the calculations of the most skilful 
 and experienced statesmen. Happy the ruler who comprehends and 
 dares to confide in its genius and instincts ! Secular or ecclesiastical 
 feudalism was with the nation, but not of the nation ; the national 
 spirit developed and progressed without the knowledge of the nobles. 
 They made use of it, indeed, but never attempted to direct or to 
 shackle it, until, to their surprise, they found that it had expanded 
 far beyond their reach. In this is the whole history of French art, 
 and in this the assurance that, notwithstanding three centuries ol 
 oppression, it cannot perish. 
 
 The reaction has begun ; we possess the elements of it, inasmuch 
 as, for the last twenty-five or thirty years, our artisans and workmen 
 have eagerly and readily accepted every attempt to revive the national 
 arts. Even at this day, as has ever been the case in France, the 
 movement has begun, not from the wealth or power or superior edu- 
 
250 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 cation of the leaders of society, hut from the national instinct of the 
 people. The work has commenced in the cabinet and workshop ; 
 and inasmuch as the last of our workmen evinces a tendency to rea- 
 son, a desire to comprehend that which he has to do, and not to do 
 it as a mere mechanical task, and as he is enthusiastic over such 
 works as in general design and detail have a logical sense in his 
 mind, the old spirit of the lay artisans of the twelfth century seems 
 to be gradually awakening. 
 
 In fine, our workmen are made of the same clay as our soldiers ; 
 both devote themselves so much the more willingly to the perform- 
 ance of their duties, when they know the object of their duties and 
 know that this object is noble. But our century has not yet said all 
 that it has to say ; there is time enough by and by to appreciate the 
 value of these facts, to consider the importance of the elements at our 
 disposal, and to seek the means of making them useful. 
 
SEVENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 ON THE PRINCIPLES OF WESTERN ARCHITECTURE IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 
 
 HE architecture of the ancients was for a loin? time 
 studied without any regard for the effects which 
 they produced by the application of color to form, 
 whether this color was obtained by incrustations 
 and slabs of marble or by paintings on plaster. 
 The Orientals, like the Greeks and even the 
 Romans, never considered it essential that the real material of the 
 edifice should remain apparent. Thus, even when the Greeks em- 
 ployed white marble, they were accustomed to cover it with color. 
 However thin we may suppose this color to have been (and all ap- 
 pearances seem to indicate that it was, on the contrary, laid on in 
 decided and heavy coats), its effect was no less to conceal the real 
 material under a sort of envelope quite independent of the structure. 
 I cannot readily admit the possibility of a mistake on the part of the 
 Greeks in the execution of their works of art ; and if, in any such 
 respect, their proceedings seem strange and incomprehensible to us, I 
 would rather attribute the apparant anomaly to the imperfection of 
 our senses than to an error on their part. 
 
 The investigations of antiquaries and artists have now, for some 
 time, convinced even the most sceptical that all the Greek monuments 
 were colored both within and without on a thin layer of plaster when 
 the stone was of a coarse texture, and directly on the polished surface 
 when marble was used. This indisputable fact leads us to the con- 
 clusion that the Greeks did not consider architecture as residing: in 
 form alone, but recognized that this form should be aided, completed, 
 and modified by the application of various colors. Indeed, it re- 
 quires no very extensive experience to learn that color may have a 
 
252 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 decided influence over form and even over proportions ; thus, if we 
 color the metopes and the wall of the cel la of a Greek temple with 
 black, we shall obtain an entirely different effect from that which 
 would be produced if the metopes and wall were left white, and 
 the cornice, triglyphs, architrave, and columns were painted black, 
 although the dimensions and proportions in either case should remain 
 the same. (See Fig. 43.) By the first method, indicated at A, the 
 order is filled out and its architrave, triglyphs, and cornice assume 
 the importance which belongs to them ; by the second, indicated at 
 B, the columns are made to appear higher and more meagre, and 
 the entablature loses its value. Thus, a certain order, which seems 
 heavy, may be made to appear light and airy ; another, of slender 
 proportions, may be made solid and firm. Color, therefore, has a 
 decided influence on architectural effects, and we should not, at this 
 day, undertake to form an opinion regarding the edifices of Greek 
 antiquity without considering this element of expression. 
 
 Fig. 43. 
 
 A. 
 
 B 
 
 The sensibility of the Greeks was far too delicate not to have been 
 impressed with the architectural importance of a principle which, by 
 the mere application of various colors, was capable of thus altering 
 the expression of form. As for us, Ave are so completely under the 
 dominion of rooted prejudices, that Ave revolt from the practical appli- 
 cation of such neAv elements, although most evidently resulting from 
 the observation of natural laws. In sculpture and in architecture Ave 
 
APPLICATION OF COLOR TO ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 253 
 
 have long been accustomed to recognize form alone as admissible, as 
 if, in fact, everything in relief should be deprived of the assistance of 
 color. This sentiment is the result of the introduction into architec- 
 ture of certain new principles whose value is not generally appre- 
 ciated. It is one of those innumerable contradictions through which 
 the arts of the present day are blindly groping. Some exclusive 
 partisans of the adoption of classic architecture protest against the 
 idea of aiding form with color, although this expedient was always 
 admitted in that architecture ; in thus protesting, they have only 
 pushed to extremes the tendencies of mediaeval architects, who gave 
 to their devices of construction an importance unknown before their 
 time. To be clearer, it is as if these partisans said, “ We admit no 
 other style of architecture than that adopted in antiquity, but we 
 protest against the use of one of the most powerful principles by 
 which the ancient architects were accustomed to obtain their effects ; 
 we believe we should exclude the constructional methods in vogue 
 during the Middle Ages, but we maintain that the consequences of 
 these methods should have a dominating influence over our archi- 
 tecture.” 
 
 The Asiatics, the Egyptians, and the Greeks in turn colored their 
 architecture ; and the Romans, also, whether by means of paintings 
 or by incrustations of various marbles. Their example was followed 
 by the Arabs and by the Byzantine and Romanesque architects. 
 During the period called Gothic, architecture was still colored by 
 tradition ; but finally the practice, as applied to structure, was gradu- 
 ally abandoned, in order that all the science and complication which 
 distinguished the construction of that period might be seen and ap- 
 preciated. Painting ceased to be monumental, and was used only in 
 certain exceptional cases. 
 
 In antiquity, therefore, and in the earlier part of the Middle Ages, 
 an edifice was regarded as finished only when color assisted form. 
 But after the thirteenth century in France, form had no further need 
 of this assistance, as it was the result of a construction all of whose 
 effects were obtained from its own combinations. Geometry tri- 
 umphed over painting ; and painting became a luxury, an ornament, 
 having no necessary connection with architecture. Ever since then 
 these two arts, architecture and painting, naturally allied to each 
 other by the strongest ties, have had a tendency to separate, till 
 now pictures are hung up on blank walls, and neither painter nor 
 
254 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 architect foresees, the one where his picture is to be suspended, 
 and the other what paintings are to decorate the structure he hns 
 raised. 
 
 The architect should be enough of a painter and sculptor to appre- 
 ciate exactly how and to what extent he should avail himself of the 
 two sister arts ; and the sculptor aud painter should have such a 
 feeling for architectural effects as never to disdain to contribute to- 
 wards them. But this is not the case at present ; we long since lost 
 that habit of harmony, without which the highest art cannot exist ; 
 the architect builds his house, gives to it such form and style as he 
 thinks best, and then it is turned over to the painter, whose interest 
 and impulse it is to make his work as prominent as possible, and to 
 obtain, perhaps, a general effect of which the architect never dreamed. 
 The sculptor works apart in his studio and presently sends his bas- 
 reliefs or statues. Architect, painter, and sculptor have, perhaps, each 
 exhibited the most remarkable talent, and yet the general result of 
 their labors thus combined is unsatisfactory ; the sculpture is, per- 
 haps, on a different scale from the architecture, or presents an effect 
 of movement and confusion where the general design required repose ; 
 while the painting, applied without sympathy and as an afterthought, 
 falsifies, cancels, or overwhelms the architectural lines, is sombre 
 where it should have been bright, and brilliant where it should have 
 been grave and quiet. The three arts, instead of aiding each other, 
 have thus a tendency to mutual destruction. Of course, architect, 
 sculptor, and painter accuse each other of the responsibility for the 
 incomplete and unsatisfactory result. We are ignorant of the pre- 
 cise relations which existed between architects, sculptors, and paint- 
 ers in antiquity or in the Middle Ages ; but it is evident, from the 
 monuments, that these relations were close, constant, and direct. I 
 do not believe that the artists lost by this, and it is certain that art 
 gained. We can find traces of this alliance between the arts so late 
 as the seventeenth century, at least in the interiors of palaces ; its 
 latest results are witnessed in the gallery of Apollo at the Louvre, 
 in that of the Hotel Lambert, and even in the gallery of the Mar- 
 bles at Versailles. But when architecture began to shut itself up 
 in academical prejudice, when the painter made pictures and not 
 paintings, and the sculptor made statues and not sculpture, this 
 precious alliance was broken. While detached works of art are 
 thus crowding the museums and galleries of amateurs, monumental 
 
NATURAL ALLIANCE OE THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 art is losing its most appropriate adornment ; it lias become the vul- 
 gar belief that cold, white, naked stone is alone suited to the dignity 
 of such art, and men who will not live in a room which is not hung 
 with variegated paper, will not permit the temple of God or the hall 
 of a palace to receive the slightest color. Meanwhile, as the arts 
 must be encouraged, pictures are ordered of painters, and these pic- 
 tures are hung in rooms which the painters have never seen, without 
 any regard to architectural forms and dimensions or to the direction 
 of the light. Statues are ordered of sculptors, who execute them 
 without difficulty, but in ignorance of where they are to be placed. 
 We never can boast of being a truly artistic people, so long as this 
 state of things is permitted to exist. In all really fine epochs, sculp- 
 ture and painting have been treated as the decoration of architec- 
 ture, a decoration made for and essential to the body to which it 
 was applied. But, in order to preserve the authority which archi- 
 tecture acquired over the other arts, she had to respect herself and 
 make herself worthy of such a decoration. 
 
 The monuments of antiquity, which we now behold ruined, sacked, 
 devastated, and often lost in the midst of squalor, filth, and poverty, 
 were formerly surrounded by carefully adapted architectural features, 
 and approached only by skilfully managed transitions. The temples 
 and palaces of Athens or Rome never were placed with their bases 
 in the mud, like most of our public monuments. Site and surround- 
 ings were carefully chosen. Thus the exterior color of edifices which 
 with us would appear ridiculous (as it is ridiculous to see a person 
 walking the public streets clothed in a brilliant costume), acquired 
 great value by the care taken by the ancients to preserve them from 
 all taint by means of a careful attention to location and accessories. 
 We find this sentiment of respect for works of art prominent among 
 Oriental nations. We can understand the propriety of covering a 
 pagoda from base to summit with lively colors, incrustations, and 
 enamels, when we find that its gate is approached only after passing 
 through several courts, diminishing in size and increasing in rich- 
 ness, paved curiously with marbles and adorned with shrubs and 
 fountains. We can comprehend the richness of Egyptian sanctua- 
 ries, when, to reach them, we find that it was necessary to pass 
 through pylons, porticos, and vestibules, whose luxury increased with 
 their proximity to the sacred place. We can comprehend the bril- 
 
 C< 
 
25G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 liant painting of the Greek temple, when we discover by how many 
 objects of art it was surrounded, the sacred groves, the enclosing 
 walls, the innumerable accessories whose presence was, as it were, an 
 introduction to the last and most complete architectural expression. 
 
 Antiquity never lost sight of this principle ; and the Middle Ages 
 often endeavored to recognize and follow it, but with manifest inferi- 
 ority, above all in France ; for in Italy the influence of the pagan 
 traditions was still felt, and to this fact may be attributed a large 
 part of the effect produced by the architectural works of that coun- 
 try, although, taken by themselves, they are often inferior to those of 
 France. But, as for us, we have long seemed not to be aware that 
 it is a part of art to know how to surround and embellish its works. 
 Although this kind of negligence, which is a peculiarity of our nation- 
 al character, is, as I shall take occasion presently to show, the result 
 of a beautiful and noble quality, it can be avoided without violence to 
 any essential advantage to be derived from the hereditary principles 
 which it is our duty to keep always in view. To this end, we must 
 acquire an exact knowledge of our aptitudes and requirements ; we 
 must lay aside those prejudices of education, those incomplete or 
 superannuated doctrines, those vulgarities, which tyrannize over the 
 world, and which we artists, either through feebleness or ignorance, 
 have not hitherto had the courage or the means boldly to oppose. 
 
 We, as well as others, perhaps, possess qualifications which are 
 admirably adapted to the development of the arts, and particularly of 
 architecture ; vet we have not only failed to profit by these qualifica- 
 tions, but have allowed them to be overwhelmed in the reign of 
 "vulgarity under which we live, because we have been willing to ap- 
 pear other than what we are, and have neglected the precious gifts 
 which belong to us. We build a monument, but we place it badly 
 and surround it badly ; we do not know how to present it to the 
 public; it may be a masterpiece of art, but we take no measures to 
 preserve it from that familiarity and daily contact with worldly traffic 
 which breed contempt and defilement. We have not known how to 
 respect our own work, and therefore naturally no one respects it. The 
 worst edifices of the Middle Ages or of modern times, in Italy, were 
 always placed to produce an effect ; the picturesque played an impor- 
 tant part. We have replaced this quality by symmetry, which is con- 
 trary to our genius, which embarrasses and fatigues us ; it is the last 
 resort of our feebleness. Neither in the Athenian Acropolis, nor in 
 
IMPORTANCE OP SITE AND SURROUNDINGS. 
 
 257 
 
 the Forum of Rome or Pompeii, nor in the works described by Pausa- 
 nias, do we discover any general symmetrical dispositions. Symmetry 
 among the Greeks was applied only to an isolated edifice, though 
 even in this respect exceptions abound, but never to a collection of 
 edifices. Even the Romans, who, as we have seen, were willing to 
 admit symmetry into their masses, never sacrificed to it necessity or 
 common-sense. Yet with what art did the Greeks locate or group 
 their public structures ! With what a just appreciation for effect, 
 with what a fine feeling for that quality, so much disdained by our 
 architects, which we call the picturesque ! It is disdained, because 
 our plans and elevations, studied on paper, generally have but slight 
 regard either for the peculiarities of site or aspect, the local effects of 
 light and shade, the surroundings, or the differences of level, to 
 which architectural forms may be so happily adapted ; because, espe- 
 cially, even before aiming to satisfy the practical requirements of the 
 programme, the architect is preoccupied with the idea of building a 
 symmetrical and balanced façade, a great architectural case, in which 
 afterwards the different apartments are to be arranged as well as 
 these arbitrary circumstances will admit. It is hardly necessary, I 
 presume, to cite examples to prove that I do not exaggerate in this 
 statement. We need but to look around us. If we elevated these 
 great regular architectural boxes upon platforms, terraces, or vast 
 sub-basements, as the Romans always did in such cases, and as was 
 done by the French in the seventeenth century at Versailles and 
 St. Germain, if we had a care for their surroundings, and empha- 
 sized all that there is majestic in an assemblage of symmetrical lines 
 by detaching them from the masses of buildings in our cities, there 
 would be some reason or excuse for this symmetry. But no ; these 
 great structures are lost in the midst of crowded towns, their bases 
 are on the street, their façades can only be seen piecemeal, and it is 
 only by examining the plans upon paper that we have the pleasure 
 of perceiving that the right wing is of precisely the same length and 
 width as the left. The Romans and, above all, the Greeks never 
 admitted symmetry save when the results of their observance of this 
 law could be comprehended in a glance of the eye, that is to say, 
 when the space occupied was sufficiently restricted to satisfy the eye 
 by a disposition of balanced masses, without the necessity of an appeal 
 to reason to comprehend the disposition. But, if it is necessary to 
 walk a thousand yards to see that the façade on the north end (sup- 
 17 
 
258 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 posing that the mind can retain the image so long) is similar to that 
 on the south, if one must go out of one court and enter another to 
 perceive (supposing always that the memory is faithful) that these 
 two courts are identically alike, I ask, why disregard common-sense 
 and embarrass all the practical requirements of the structure to 
 obtain a result so puerile, a result which can only satisfy a few nar- 
 row-minded pedants ? 
 
 Whence do we derive this custom which exercises such a prevail- 
 ing influence over all modern architectural composition ? Certainly 
 not from mediaeval traditions, nor yet from those of antiquity, which 
 are entirely opposed to it ; but from certain very recent, but very 
 unreasonable academical formulas, in conflict with our national genius, 
 which is essentially rational and independent of such artificial re- 
 strictions ; formulas, according to which we build inconvenient struc- 
 tures, which are tiresome to the eye and satisfy no instincts of pro- 
 priety, but enable any one to set himself up as a judge in archi- 
 tectural questions, and which, for this very reason, are extolled as 
 infallible. 
 
 In examining the ruins of Greek cities, we cannot but be struck 
 by the care with which the architects of that beautiful epoch profited 
 by their sites to give increased value to their monuments. They 
 loved architecture as an art, but they also loved nature and light ; 
 they endeavored to attract attention to their designs and to surprise 
 by coy and unexpected devices, avoiding monotony and prudish 
 formalism. They were scientific constructors and severe artists, full 
 of respect for principles and form, but they were also subtle decora- 
 tors and exquisitely delicate in their choice and arrangement of 
 effects. The Greek architect never levelled the rock on which his 
 monument was founded ; lie decorated it, he profited by its asper- 
 ities, he cut it with taste and with profound knowledge of effect. 
 Look at Athens, Corinth, and, above all, at those antique Greek 
 cities of Sicily, Agrigentum, Selinus, Segeste, Syracuse. ho would 
 not say, on beholding these venerable ruins, “ Happy the lives of 
 those who so understood and so exquisitely enjoyed the beautiful 
 alliance of art and nature ! ” 
 
 With the Roman it was otherwise. He readily sacrificed nature 
 to his ideas of order and grandeur. In order to illustrate the differ- 
 ence between these two principles, we here present, in Fig. 44, a 
 view of the temple of Juno Lucina at Agrigentum, restored, and, in 
 
Fig. 44. 
 

 
 
DANGERS OE HASTE. 
 
 259 
 
 Fig. 45, a bird’s-eye view of a Roman temple of the Imperial epoch, 
 with its porticos, its enclosing wall or cloister, its approaches, and its 
 large and sumptuous architecture.* In modern times we cheapen 
 the sites of our monuments, or, if we undertake to isolate them, we 
 surround them with blank deserts which belittle them, affording 
 no introduction and no architectural preparation or contrasts ; we 
 think we have answered the last requirements of good taste if we 
 surround our monument with an iron fence upon a low wall. 
 
 I have said that this peculiar negligence of ours about the manner 
 in which our works should be completed and presented to the public 
 proceeds from a noble quality in our national character. The fact is, 
 that, in our pursuit of improvement, we are constantly experimenting 
 and investigating, but' we never pause to develop the advantages we 
 have gained into the perfection of which they may be capable; and 
 thus, in our eager and impatient haste, the full enjoyment of our 
 artistic capacities is every day adjourned to the morrow ; this en- 
 joyment will come some day, we think, but it certainly does not 
 exist at present. The true history of our arts, as of our civiliza- 
 tion, is embraced in these few words, and it is in this respect that 
 we exhibit another marked point of contrast with the Romans, the 
 most practical people of historic times. It leads us into the stran- 
 gest blunders. Thus, we enunciate a principle, which suggests an- 
 other principle, and so we proceed in an interminable succession of 
 experiments, abandoning each in turn before its capacities are devel- 
 oped, and rushing on to others, leaving behind us all the while a 
 sad record of unfinished work and broken promises ; but, meanwhile, 
 some people, more calm or more attached to the interests of the mo- 
 ment, take up one of the principles which we have thus abandoned, 
 and, by serious study and quiet processes of induction, develop and 
 perfect it; and when one day, wearied with our unprofitable search 
 after improvement and at the end of our resources, we meet these 
 
 * Of the temple of Juno Lucina at Agrigentum, the great platform, which was built upon 
 the rock, towards the east, still remains, hut the temple itself is an utter ruin. Our view is 
 taken from the side towards the city, the temple being built upon a long ridge of calcareous 
 stone which served as ramparts, and which, on the inner side, was covered with monuments cut 
 in the living rock. Any one visiting these ruins, now far removed in a wilderness, can see that 
 the Greek architects were skilful landscape gardeners, and knew how to exercise their qualifications 
 as such without injury to their art. The Roman temple, which is a fair type of the sacred edifices 
 of the Imperial epoch, is taken from a medal dedicated to Jupiter the Avenger by the Emperor 
 Alexander Severus. On the reverse appears this inscription : IOVRVLTORI • P • M • TR • 1’ • I l I . 
 
 1 OS . P . P. (Imperial Library, cabinet of medals.) See “ Architecture, numismatiea,” or Arch. 
 Medals of Clas. Antiquity, by T. L. Donaldson, London, 1859. 
 
200 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 foreign developments of onr own principles, we are delighted, and, in 
 the characteristic ardor of our pursuit of novelties, at once set our- 
 selves to the same headlong work of imitation, adaptation, and aban- 
 donment. It will readily be seen how these strange revolutions 
 confuse our ideas, so that, in the midst of so many different elements, 
 we are at a loss to distinguish the true from the false, or inspiration 
 from imitation. This is the reason why we experience so much diffi- 
 culty in knowing what our real aims and true requirements are in 
 respect to art. The Greeks present a similar activity of genius, but 
 their constant and devoted love for purity and truth of form saved 
 them from the errors into which we have fallen ; like us, they were 
 progressive and were sensitive to new suggestions, but, by reason 
 of their instinct for the beautiful, they transformed everything they 
 touched into a joy forever, and thus they remained the masters of 
 their conquerors. 
 
 Let us now follow step by step the progress of the arts in Western 
 Europe from the Carlovingian epoch up to modern times. 
 
 It is not easy to find, either in Italy or France, any remains of 
 monuments of the eighth and ninth centuries, and those which we 
 do discover exhibit an imperfect art which is a sort of compromise 
 between Roman traditions and Oriental influences. Then, in the 
 tenth century came the Norman invasions of the AVest, arresting the 
 progress of the new civilization in its earliest stages. It is not till 
 the eleventh century that, under the influence of monastic establish- 
 ments, especially those of Cluny, we can discover any development 
 of art towards a new path.* These monks began by establishing 
 themselves, as far as possible, on the foundations of the old Roman 
 occupation. The Roman villa had no small influence on the plans 
 of their monasteries, in which, as in their antique prototype, symme- 
 try was sacrificed to convenience, situation, and aspect, thus present- 
 ing a similar agglomeration of buildings, thoughtfully and judiciously 
 disposed and varying according to the destination of each, as we have 
 had occasion to observe in the villas of the empire. Although the 
 taste thus exhibited by the western monks more closely resembled 
 the Latin taste than any other, yet, in the eleventh century, new 
 elements began to appear in their art. It is at this moment of its 
 
 * See in the “ Diet, raisonné de l’Arch. Franc, du X e au XVI 0 siècles ” the articles Archi- 
 tecture ; Architecture Religieuse, Monastique ; Construction. 
 
ITig, 45 
 

EARLY CLIENT LSI AN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 261 
 
 development that the history of architecture requires to he analyzed 
 with the utmost care, for from these first essays we are to derive what 
 it is most important for us to know in our labors for the renovation 
 of modern architecture. 
 
 This is not the place to recount the supreme influence of the abbey 
 of Cluny, during the tenth and eleventh centuries, that is, under the 
 ride of the abbots Saint Odo, Aymard, Saint Maïeul, Saint Odilon, 
 Saint Hugh, or the privileges which this abbey enjoyed independent 
 of all secular or episcopal power and subject only to the will of 
 the Pope ; it is unnecessary here to give the history of the numerous 
 missions undertaken by the Clunisian monks in all the countries of 
 Europe, the reforms of which they were the devoted apostles through- 
 out Christendom, or the great works which they undertook. Suffice 
 it to say that it was a true government, the only one which pursued 
 regular and logical methods in that era of public misery, when all 
 other powers were feeble and undeveloped. Now the Order of Cluny, 
 being thus master in the domain of intellect, and being the only in- 
 stitution which had constant intercourse with Italy, Spain, and Ger- 
 many, imposing its rule everywhere, had need of an art which should 
 be equal to the emergencies and dignity of its mission. We must 
 remember, moreover, that all the distinguished minds of that time, 
 all those who desired to elevate humanity above the prevailing bar- 
 barism, took refuge in .the monasteries of Cluny, and gave to that vast 
 religious and civilizing association the weight of their intelligence. 
 Cluny, therefore, by reason of its continual relations with establish- 
 ments spread over Italy, Germany, and even in the East, became a 
 sort of reservoir, in which the different sources of art, gathered to- 
 gether from every quarter, were mingled to furnish a new current. 
 It was in this way that the traditions of Roman art were transformed 
 into a powerful school. The churches of Cluny, Tournus, Vézelay, 
 St. Martin-des-Champs at Paris, la Charite-snr-Loire, preserve re- 
 markable specimens of that Clunisian art, which was the only one in 
 the eleventh century deserving the name of architecture. The Clu- 
 nisian masons, stone-cutters, sculptors, and painters possessed methods 
 belonging to a school the grandeur of whose efforts cannot be misun- 
 derstood, — a school which, while it was the issue of Latin arts, bore 
 the imprint of its own peculiar genius. 
 
 In all the writings, instructions, and rules which emanated from 
 Cluny, there is a consistency, a clear and practical spirit, which can- 
 
202 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 not fail to strike every attentive reader ; we recognize in them the 
 hands of lettered men, habituated to a wise and discreet exercise of 
 power, to administration, and to all the difficulties which belong to 
 human government ; men sure of their intellectual superiority, and 
 having the patience and moderation of strength. In the eleventh 
 century, the Clunisians seemed to be justified in considering in good 
 faith that the government of all human affairs belonged necessarily 
 and by right to them. This explains in part the struggles of Greg- 
 ory VII. against imperial power. The monk Hildebrand, when he 
 became Pope, still remained the friend of the abbot Hugh, who was 
 not less attached to the emperor Henry, and often interposed between 
 these two illustrious rivals. This single fact indicates the politic 
 spirit of the great abbots of Cluny in the eleventh and twelfth cen- 
 turies. This real and incontestible power, this taste for intellectual 
 labor, this moderation, this habit of grandeur, we find expressed in 
 the Clunisian monuments of that epoch. There is order in them, but 
 not the strict order of the monk ; rather somewhat that of the Ro- 
 man ; but we may say, in favor of the Clunisians, that they knew 
 how to form schools both of construction and sculpture, while the 
 Romans invented only the construction of their edifices, taking all 
 their decoration from the Greeks. It is true that the Clunisians took 
 from Byzantium, and from among the Greek refugee artists in Italy, 
 painters and sculptors to adorn their buildings ; but who was there in 
 Italy, at the end of the eleventh century, to conceive a monument like 
 the church of Vézelay ? Whence could profiles so noble and of a 
 style so pure have been imported ? In what European country, at that 
 period, can we find a composition analogous, for instance, to that bay 
 of the nave of Vézelay of which Plate XI. can give but a feeble idea? 
 This is architecture deduced from the necessities of execution and 
 construction and not made to satisfy the eye with a geometrical de- 
 sign. This is an original style whose composition has nothing in 
 common with the examples left by antiquity. Already, in these Clu- 
 nisian buildings (especially during the period called Romanesque), 
 we see the spirit of the architect abandoning decrepid traditions in 
 its search for new forms ; these forms, together with their decoration, 
 we perceive resulting rationally and directly from new requirements 
 of construction ; and the construction, in becoming conspicuous, we 
 find becoming also elegant and even refined. The Clunisian archi- 
 tecture was an evident consequence of the Christian spirit, just as the 
 
l'i.xn! 
 
 THE CHURCH OF ST. EUTROPIUS AT SAINTES. 
 
 AISLE ; EXTERIOR. 
 

 
 
 
 r 
 
 
CLUNISIANS AND CISTERCIANS. 
 
 203 
 
 institute of Cluny itself was, during the Middle Ages, the most natu- 
 ral result of that most practical epoch of Christianity. Thus it was 
 agreeable to the spirit of Christianity in matters of architectural 
 design to throw aside all concealment and deceit, and to regard form 
 only as a logical expression of necessity ; it was Christian to treat 
 every part according to the value of the idea which called it into 
 existence. According to the Clunisian architects, therefore, every 
 part must have a necessary function, must perform a duty, could only 
 arrive at perfection by adhering to these laws and by admitting no 
 caprice ; men of taste, though scarcely yet free from the elements of 
 barbarism, they were the first to make these principles fundamental 
 in the practice of art. 
 
 The Clunisians very nearly created a Renaissance in the Middle 
 Ages ; they revived the love of letters, and, for the time in which 
 they flourished, had very advanced ideas concerning administration 
 and government ; they were legislators, diplomatists, politicians, men 
 of science, and artists. If they did not create a Renaissance, it was 
 because they formed a clerical aristocracy in the midst of the people. 
 But could they have been anything else in the state of society at that 
 epoch ? 
 
 It is one of the most curious facts to be developed in the history 
 of the human mind since antiquity, that perhaps we owe to the Clu- 
 nisians the great national movement which caused their disappear- 
 ance from the scene at the end of the twelfth century. It was a 
 natural result of their influence over the affairs of the world, of their 
 cultivation, of their love for arts and letters, and of their intimate 
 relations with all sovereigns, that the Clunisians at length began to 
 display in their monasteries a luxury until then unknown. It was 
 in opposition to this luxury that Saint Bernard arose in the twelfth 
 century ; he saw that the monastic institution was going astray, and 
 he proposed to arrest the evil. In this connection it is very interest- 
 ing to read the letters of the Abbot of Cluny, Peter the Venerable, to 
 St. Bernard, conjuring him to be moderate in his attacks, and to 
 make no invidious distinctions between the white and black monks 
 in the households of the order. Peter, in contrast to Bernard, occu- 
 pied the position of an enlightened and tolerant man of the world, 
 who perceived, in the reaction excited by Bernard, only one danger 
 more for the monastic orders in general ; he appealed to his charity. 
 “ Differences of color, ’ said he, in one of his letters, “ differences of 
 
264 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 habitations and of costume, are opposed to mutual love, and weaken 
 the unity of our order. The white monk is jealous of the black 
 monk, and regards him as a monster. The black monk beholds the 
 white monk, and considers him a hideous prodigy. Novelties irritate 
 the mind which is rooted in regular habits, and it is difficult to 
 approve that which is strange. These are the natural sentiments 
 of those who attach .themselves to exterior things, without regarding 
 what passes in the bottom of souls. But the eye of reason, the eye 
 of the mind, does not see in this way ; it recognizes and comprehends 
 that diversity of colors, usages, and habitations is as nothing among 
 the servants of God, since, according to the Apostle, We are no 
 longer concerned with the circumcision , hut with the renewing of the 
 creature , and there is no longer Jew or Greek, male or female, barba- 
 rian or Scythian, slave or freeman, and Christ is all in all. Intelli- 
 gent men understand such things and comprehend them clearly ; but 
 all are not so ; the intellectual sight is given to but few. It is, in 
 my opinion, necessary to place our inferiors on a level, and to con- 
 duct ourselves towards them with a sort of distributive precaution, 
 like him who said, I have made myself all things to all men, that 
 I might gain all.” 
 
 But I pause, though tempted to cite the whole of a letter which 
 is a masterpiece of the true Christian spirit, of good sense, good taste, 
 and sometimes of delicate irony. Peter the Venerable and Suger 
 shared between them the intelligence of the twelfth century. The 
 fiery St. Bernard foresaw the influence of letters and arts upon the 
 popular mind ; he dreaded a return to the arts of Paganism, and 
 believed that form was affecting dogma, and that philosophy was 
 having an influence over faith. Although a man of genius and a 
 profound student of humanity, he misunderstood the spirit of his 
 contemporaries. He could hardly during his life stay the course 
 of the torrent. Peter the Venerable was almost an antique philos- 
 opher ; there was something of Cicero in his spirit, but with the 
 grandeur, resignation, and repose of the true Christian. Suger was 
 a statesman, who, although he did not participate in these monastic 
 disputes, yet saw the danger and believed it more prudent to turn 
 it aside than to fight it face to face like St. Bernard. This digres- 
 sion is necessary to a full comprehension of what follows. 
 
 The Clunisians had schools in their establishments, not only for 
 the monks themselves, but open for the laity. If they had architects, 
 
TRANSITION FROM ROMANESQUE TO GOTHIC. 
 
 265 
 
 sculptors, and painters in their own body, they did not hesitate 
 to spread abroad the knowledge of these arts ; for, in order to build 
 and decorate their churches and sumptuous cloisters, they had to 
 make extensive use of lay workmen, and the Clunisians of the twelfth 
 century were far too aristocratic to labor with their own hands. The 
 more the Cistercians, under the lead of St. Bernard, affected to 
 despise the plastic arts, the more refinement did the Clunisians put 
 into their constructions, their furniture and vestments ; the dispute 
 grew warm, and the Clunisians, like all men who arrive at a high 
 degree of civilization in the midst of a rude state of society, saw in 
 their rivals the merest barbarians, and fought against their extreme 
 Puritanism by filling the popular mind with the love of art as far as 
 it was practicable. Their architecture, at about the middle of the 
 twelfth century, was the expression of a singular refinement ; but in 
 thus elevating laymen to the rank of artists and skilful workmen, and 
 inspiring them with the taste and practice of the arts, they developed 
 among them those native inspirations which until then had remained 
 dormant in the hearts of the people. Thus, in the Clunisian con- 
 structions, from 1120 to 1140, we see indications of a new principle: 
 the Romanesque tradition began to lose its dominating influence, and 
 many of the problems which arose in building were resolved by a 
 course of inductive reasoning rather than by referring to antique 
 precedent. Now it has always happened in France that whenever 
 old traditions have been laid aside for the sake of a new idea, the 
 new idea has been adopted with energy, and developed with all the 
 haste of enthusiasm ; we have a proof of this within a century, and 
 the French were the same people in the twelfth century as in the 
 sixteenth and eighteenth. The abbots of Vézelay, about the year 
 1135, built an entrance hall ( narthex ) to their church; this hall, 
 though Romanesque in plan, details, mouldings, and sculpture, ex- 
 hibited indications of certain new principles of construction, which 
 gave promise of an entirely independent style.* It was very nearly 
 at the same epoch that the cathedral of Langres was built, and here 
 the Romanesque methods were entirely abandoned in the system of 
 construction, although the details were almost Roman in character. 
 In 1114 the Abbot Suger finished the abbey church of St. Denis; 
 but, in those parts of the church which belong to the epoch of which 
 
 *■ See, in the, “Diet, raisonné de l’Arch. franç.,” articles Architecture Religieuse, Fig. 
 22, and Construction, Fig. 19. 
 
26G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 we are treating, we discover that the architectural revolution was com- 
 pleted ; not only was the round arch abandoned, but the system of 
 construction called Gothic was found. But where did Suger find his 
 architect? Was he a monk, or a layman? The monk William* 
 confined himself to saying that the illustrious abbot “ summoned 
 from various parts of the kingdom workmen of every kind, masons, 
 carpenters, painters, blacksmiths, workers in metal, jewellers, and 
 lapidaries, all renowned for skill in their respective crafts.” But no- 
 where, either in the kingdom of France or elsewhere, had anything 
 been built like the church of St. Denis ; and it is necessary to ob- 
 serve also that Suger caused the works to be pushed on with the 
 utmost rapidity, as he affected to fear that his successor would not 
 continue his enterprise. On the 5th of June, 1140, King Louis le 
 Gros laid the first stone of the foundation, f and on the 11th of June, 
 1144, the church being finished, he assisted at the dedication. It 
 had the same length as the present church, but not its width. This 
 haste explains why the construction was so negligent, why the foun- 
 dations were afterwards found insufficient in many parts, and why 
 the nave and transept had to be reconstructed a hundred years after ; 
 but it also indicates to us the idea of arriving promptly at an extraor- 
 dinary result, and astonishing the multitude by striking a great blow, 
 and this end was attained ; for all the contemporaries, including even 
 the Abbot of Cluny, Peter the Venerable, beheld, in the work under- 
 taken and completed by Suger, one of the marvels of the West. 
 But why this haste? 
 
 Suger was a practical man ; he did not fail to see that the mo- 
 nastic institution was declining to its fall ; and, while introducing into 
 his own abbey of St. Denis, in 1127, a severe reform, and although 
 contenting himself with a poor cell, in consequence of a letter of St. 
 Bernard, in which the Abbot of Citeaux inveighed against the dis- 
 order of the monks of St. Denis , \ he felt the necessity of restoring 
 the glory of the royal abbey by a great enterprise, which, while it 
 should surpass, without imitating, anything that the Clunisians had 
 
 * “ Vie de Suger,” Liv. II. 
 
 d “ Ipse enim serenissimus Rex intus descendens propriis manibus suum imposait, hosque et 
 multi alii tam abbates quam religiosi viri lapides suos imposuerunt, quidam etiam gemmas, ob 
 amorem et reverentiam Jhesu Cliristi decantâtes : Lapides pretiori ovines mûri tui. Letter of 
 Suger. 
 
 + In this letter (78tli of the edition of Mabillon) St. Bernard said, “that the interior of the 
 monastery was filled with men-at-arms and women, was occupied with worldly affairs of every 
 kind, and disturbed by frequent strifes.” 
 
RISE OP THE LAY OR GOTHIC SPIRIT. 
 
 267 
 
 done, should disregard the scorn affected by the Cistercians for 
 matters of art; on the contrary, he considered that the religious 
 orders should be in the very front of progress, should be the fountain 
 of new ideas, and should seduce the multitude with all the fascina- 
 tions of novelty. 
 
 This is why the arts which were developed in France in the 
 twelfth century differed in every respect from those of antiquity. 
 The arts sympathized with that restless fever which flushed the soci- 
 ety of the West, while in antique Rome the arts remained insen- 
 sible to every political revolution or intellectual movement ; they 
 pursued their own course and kept apart from public affairs. The 
 twelfth century in France was signalized by popular revolts, and 
 feudalism received then its first blow at the hands of this very 
 Abbot Soger ; the royal power began to recover from the apathy 
 into which it had fallen ; the great reform of Cluny emitted its 
 last rays of enlightenment ; and the clerical power of the orders 
 fast wasted away and stood like a stumbling-block in the path of 
 political unity. Suger, in the midst of these things, distinguished 
 himself by a course of political conduct always wise and prudent ; 
 far-sighted and exactly appreciating the men and the events among 
 which he lived, he was at the same time moderate and tolerant; 
 it was during the government of this statesman that architecture 
 in the heart ot the kingdom of France was completely revolution- 
 ized, and definitely abandoned the old Romanesque traditions of 
 the monasteries to throw itself with renewed ardor into an entirely 
 different path of progress. It was under his administration, about 
 the year 1150, that the Bishop Baldwin IF, the friend of the Abbot 
 of St. Denis, built the cathedral of Noyon, — a work which presents 
 the most striking analogies to those parts of the royal abbey church 
 which still remain. It was also at about this epoch that the cathe- 
 dral of Senlis was built, and it was in 1160 that Bishop Maurice de 
 Sully began the cathedral of Fails on a plan and programme until 
 then unknown. 
 
 After the Roman epoch, the cities of Gaul in the central and 
 northern provinces lost, with their municipal institutions, the build- 
 ings which were the visible signs of those institutions ; so that 
 when, in the eleventh century, some of these municipalities con- 
 spired to conquer anew their ancient privileges, they were obliged 
 to hold their meetings in the public squares ; for in those unhappy 
 
2G8 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 times, with the exception of the churches and castles, there were 
 no edifices which were capable of containing a popular assem- 
 blage. Of all the powers against which the commons struggled, 
 the abbeys were necessarily the most constantly hostile to the move- 
 ment; while the lay nobles, the bishops, and the sovereign became 
 now the protectors and now the adversaries of the new liberties, 
 according to the interests of the moment. 
 
 In the twelfth century, the bishops found their authority singu- 
 larly enfeebled by monastic establishments, which owed allegiance 
 only to the Holy See, which were independent of all diocesan dis- 
 cipline, which absorbed the donations of the faithful, covered the 
 soil with conventual and parish churches, and continually strength- 
 ened their temporal and political influence in the château of the 
 noble and in the manor-house of the land-holder. There remained 
 but one resource for the bishops ; this was to avail themselves of 
 the popular movement, to profit by the lay spirit just beginning 
 to develop, in order that, at. least in the cities, they might recover 
 the diocesan power which they had lost. In 11 GO, then, they 
 began to use every effort to supply those cities which were affected 
 with this municipal spirit with vast buildings, in which the citizens 
 might assemble around the episcopal throne. Their concessions to 
 the popular spirit were necessarily large ; adopting programmes 
 opposed to those of the abbeys, they made their cathedrals vast 
 open structures, unembarrassed by interior enclosures, possessing 
 only one altar, the bishop’s throne, and few or no chapels ; in 
 short, they built monuments very nearly fulfilling the conditions 
 of the Roman basilica.* Under these circumstances, the people 
 readily responded to the appeal of the bishops; wealth flowed 
 into the episcopal treasuries in abundance, and in a few years the 
 cities of Paris, Sens, Chartres, Rouen, Bourges, Rheims, Senlis, 
 Meaux, Amiens, Cambrai, Arras, Beauvais, and Troyes had their 
 great cathedrals, which still exist, though very much modified from 
 their primitive dispositions. The laity alone, who were already 
 organized into trade-corporations or guilds, were called upon to 
 prepare and execute these great works ; entering readily and fully 
 into the views of the bishops, they not only followed the new pro- 
 grammes which were given them, but very soon adopted an entirely 
 new system of construction and new forms of architecture and 
 
 * See, in the “Diet, raisonné de l’Areh. franç.,” the article Cathedral. 
 
RISE OF THE LAY OR GOTHIC SPIRIT. 
 
 269 
 
 sculpture. They rapidly perfected themselves in the study of geom- 
 etry and mathematics, and undertook to copy nature in their statu- 
 ary and decoration. 
 
 In this new development of art, the peculiar genius of the Trench 
 nation began to appear, — a genius which is as distinct from that of 
 antiquity as it is from that of Italy and Germany in modern times. 
 Up to the moment when the lay school appeared in Trance, archi- 
 tecture bore traces of Roman and Byzantine arts. Construction, 
 strictly speaking, -and decoration still proceeded from antiquity ; 
 the influence of western taste was not yet sufficiently energetic 
 to cancel the effects of living traditions ; the religious establish- 
 ments progressed in art by modifying these traditions, never by 
 losing sight of them. But the lay school, at the close of the twelfth 
 century, broke from them entirely and replaced them by principles 
 founded upon reason. These new principles may be briefly enumer- 
 ated as follows : Equilibrium obtained in the system of construction 
 by active resistances opposed to active forces ; architectural effect, 
 the simple result of the structure and the practical necessities of 
 the work ; decoration, derived simply from the local flora ; statuary, 
 tending to the imitation of nature and seeking dramatic expression. 
 W e must thoroughly understand these principles before we can com- 
 prehend anything in the architecture of the Trench lay, or Gothic, 
 school. 
 
 To this end, therefore, let us observe, in Tig. 46, the transverse 
 section and a fragment of the plan of a great Roman room, — the 
 basilica of Constantine, for example. This room is entirely con- 
 structed of rubble, with brick facings, covered with stucco, except 
 the columns and their entablatures, which are of marble, but which, 
 in fact, are mere decorative features, as the monument can stand 
 without their assistance. The roof of the central nave A (see plan) 
 is composed of a series of cross-vaultings, constructed in the usual 
 Roman manner, that is to say, by means of the penetration of half- 
 cylinders at right angles. These vaults are of rubble, forming thus 
 a concrete, passive mass without elasticity, like an immense shell hol- 
 lowed out of a single block. Now, these vaults must be sustained 
 and buttressed, for their enormous weight, if not supported by 
 immovable masses, would soon occasion fissures, and the vault thus 
 broken would fall in pieces. The buttresses B, therefore, are built 
 opposite the thrusts of the vault at the point where the cross-spring- 
 
270 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ers start ; these buttress walls are pierced at their base with an arch 
 C, and are built to the height D (see section) ; the space B B B' 13' 
 in the plan, between each pair of buttresses, is arched over with a 
 round vault bearing the terraced roof F, over which the ends of the 
 
 Fig. 46. 
 
 transverse vaults of the nave are left open at G, thus admitting 
 light into the interior. The wall I, which is also pierced with open 
 arches, is merely a screen sustaining no weight. If we deprive 
 this construction of everything which is not essential to its perfect 
 stability, we can, as indicated on the left of the plan and section 
 (Fig. 46), reduce the interior piers to the vertical support H, increase 
 
GOTHIC TRANSFORMATIONS OF THE BASILICA. 
 
 271 
 
 the size of the openings in the buttress walls, as at K, suppress 
 the grand order, and, by opening the half-arch L, make a flying 
 buttress, referring the thrust of the main vaulting directly to the 
 outer pier M. This is the true structure. 
 
 It must be acknowledged that where the Roman method of con- 
 struction was available, it could not be applied in a more simple, 
 solid, economical, and grander manner than in this basilica of Con- 
 stantine. But we have elsewhere stated how and why the con- 
 structive methods among the Romans, so admirably adapted to their 
 political and administrative organization, were entirely impracticable 
 in the West under the feudal régime. The lay architects at the 
 end of the twelfth century were obliged to avail themselves of such 
 means as were most readily at hand ; and even had they recog- 
 nized that the Roman method of construction was the only good 
 method, it is not probable that the entire political organization of 
 their time would have been changed in order to make this method 
 available ; for under no other circumstances could it have been 
 admitted. Indeed, in order to build a great room like that de- 
 scribed above, a very considerable space was required for the works 
 in the beginning, for it was not possible to carry on a construction 
 of this kind in parts ; it was essential to carry up the whole building 
 on a level at the same time ; it was not practicable to complete one 
 part and leave the rest to be finished afterwards ; all the temporary 
 wooden centres or forms, on which the rubble vaults had to be built, 
 must be made and set up simultaneously ; they must be sufficiently 
 strong and solid to bear the weight of this rubble while the work 
 was going on ; it was necessary that, when these centres had been 
 prepared and set up (and we must bear in mind the enormous quan- 
 tity of wood required to make and support them), the vaults should 
 ■ be constructed with great rapidity, for a rubble vault in cement to 
 be homogeneous and solid must be executed without interruption ; 
 to this end, vast quantities of rubble, bricks, sand, and, above all, 
 of lime had to be accumulated at the works in the beginning. And, 
 observe, that, before even this accumulation, the bricks had to be made 
 and the lime prepared. The Romans were the only people whose 
 organization was such that they could construct on such a scale. 
 
 Now, let us suppose ourselves in France in the twelfth century, 
 and that we are called upon to construct a great public building ; 
 vs find at once that we are not absolute masters even of the site 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 970 
 
 <W i (V 
 
 of this building ; it is disputed piece by piece, and only yielded 
 after a long resistance ; the wood, which we at once require for 
 scaffolding and centerings, is not delivered to us in enormous quan- 
 tities by fleets fitted out and employed for our use ; on the contrary, 
 we have to get our timber, stick by stick, among twenty proprietors 
 perhaps, each one able to give us but a few pieces, or we must buy 
 it, and, there being no fixed tariff, we shall have to pay dear for it 
 it our necessities are known. Let us suppose, again, that our ma- 
 terials, instead ot being brought to us, on a simple requisition, by 
 disciplined soldiers or slaves, as in Roman times, have to be ex- 
 tracted in small quantities and from several quarries on different 
 estates, and transported with such appliances as we can command, 
 or by means of voluntary service ; that lime is delivered to us suc- 
 cessively, and in small quantities ; that our workmen work by the' 
 job and do as little as possible, and must be paid roundly ; and that 
 occasionally the liege lord takes these men away to carry on war 
 with his neighbor. How, under such circumstances, are we to 
 construct an edifice like the basilica of Constantine? And, if we 
 begin, shall we ever be able to finish it? We shall have to suspend 
 work for the want of wood and lime before the edifice is half fin- 
 ished ; and if, after many delays, we can go on with it, will our 
 construction have the qualities essential to its perfect solidity ? Un- 
 der the conditions I have indicated, should we not, on the contrary, 
 if we are wise and prudent, adopt such a method of building as will 
 enable us to dispense with the necessity of accumulating such vast 
 quantities of material at once, and to so divide our work that we 
 can suspend and resume it without danger? And since material 
 is obtained with so much difficulty, should we not use every effort 
 to economize it, and endeavor to obtain great results by small means? 
 Let us see, then, how we should proceed to make a great room analo- 
 gous to the basilica of Constantine. 
 
 Our quarries supply us with stone for masonry in abundance, and, 
 therefore, it is unnecessary to waste time in moulding and baking- 
 bricks. But stone is dear, we must economize it, and only use it 
 where absolutely necessary. Instead, therefore, of building up a 
 solid buttress of brick and rubble pierced at its base with an arch, 
 let us, as in Rig. 47, erect two columns of stone A A' and an ex- 
 terior buttress B. Instead of vaulting each bay of the aisle with 
 a round arch, perpendicular to the central nave, let us erect an inter- 
 
THE GOTHIC BASILICA, 
 
 273 
 
 mediate column C between every pair of buttresses, and thus 
 obtain two cross-vaults A D, E C in each bay of the aisle to one 
 
 Fig. 47. 
 
 IS 
 
274 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 cross-vault in the nave. Then, while the nave wall is set astride 
 the double columns of each main pier, the outer projection of the 
 double capital at A will serve to support the springing of the pointed 
 arch A D, across the aisle, while the inner projection at A' will 
 receive the base of the engaged colonettes or vaulting shafts at I, 
 which run up on the inner face of the nave wall to carry the spring- 
 ing of the cross-ribs of the central or nave vault, which is divided 
 in the centre of each of its great bays, transversely, by a pointed 
 arch C E, starting from the intermediate column C. Instead of 
 building solid buttresses to withstand the thrusts of the cross-vault- 
 ing of the nave, let us build up each outer buttress, B to K, and 
 throw thence a half-arch, K L, against the outside of the nave 
 wall, to replace the passive resistance of a solid buttress by the 
 active resistance of an arch thrusting inwardly against the Avail 
 M, to meet the outward thrust of the nave vaulting. Thus is ob- 
 tained an equilibrium of forces. But as Ave can scarcely trust to the 
 abutment K alone to resist the thrust referred to it by the flying 
 buttress K L from the nave vault, Ave will surmount it with a 
 weight N, in the form of a pinnacle, to insure its stability. Our 
 climate Avili not allow us to construct level terraces over the aisles, 
 covered Avith concrete, tiled or paved, as the Romans did in Italy, 
 so Ave Avili elevate the main vaulting high enough to enable us to 
 construct a Avooden lean-to roof P, under the high windows R 
 {clerestory), of the nave Avail ; and then, to lessen the Aveight bear- 
 ing on the main arches S of the nave wall, as Avell as to give 
 light and air to the space occupied by the timbers in the roof P, 
 we Avili open arches T ( triforium ), betAveen the nave arches below 
 and the clerestory above. Soon Ave find that the double columns 
 A A / are useless, and that Ave can substitute a single cylindrical 
 pillar, as the main weight, if the construction is good, Avili in 
 the former case fall between the columns. Noav Ave can see per- 
 fectly Avell that this construction, composed as it is of an accumula- 
 tion of bearings referred to single points of support on the first story, 
 and, above, of thrusts opposed by active abutments, cannot have 
 the solidity and inertia of the Roman structure ; that there must 
 be movements throughout the whole building ; and that, therefore, 
 the vaults should not be composed, like the Roman, of a concrete, 
 homogeneous mass, but should be possessed of a certain elasticity, 
 in order to enable them to yield to these movements Avithout danger 
 
THE GOTHIC BASILICA. 
 
 i/o 
 
 of destruction. But even if the Roman vault were good construc- 
 tion under these circumstances, we have not at our command the 
 vast quantity of timber necessary for the centres or forms on which 
 it must be constructed, nor have we the requisite materials. We 
 therefore must content ourselves with laying diagonal and pointed 
 arches upon temporary centres, and then using these arches or ribs 
 as permanent centres, enabling us to build between them, follow- 
 ing their curves, portions of concave vaults, without the necessity 
 of intermediate wooden centres, according to the Roman fashion.* 
 Thus, if necessity required it, we could interrupt our works and 
 resume them, execute them altogether or in parts, without affecting 
 the solidity of the edifice in any degree. 
 
 Let us, like rational men, reason this matter out, without allow- 
 ing ourselves to be seduced by traditions or consecrated forms. In 
 our vaults, we reserve the full-centred or round arch for the diagonal 
 ribs, these having, naturally, the longest diameter ; and, in order 
 to diminish the thrusts of the longitudinal and transverse arches 
 of our vaults, as well as to elevate their summits to the level of 
 the keys of the diagonal ribs, we make these arches pointed, by 
 using two arcs, which we can cause to intersect at any desired 
 height. By this expedient, we are no longer confined, as to a cer- 
 tain extent the Romanesque architects were, to the square plan of 
 the Roman cross-vault, formed by the interpenetration of two equal 
 semicylinders at right angles, but can vault over any area, whether 
 a parallelogram, quadrilateral, triangle, or octagon, regular or irregu- 
 lar. Now, I admit that a section of the basilica of Constantine may 
 by some be preferred to a section of any analogous building of the 
 end of the twelfth century ; but, because the latter conception is more 
 complicated and requires more scientific combinations and a more 
 profound process of reasoning, is it therefore more barbarous? Fol- 
 lowing the section of the basilica of Constantine, we can never make 
 any new application of its principles. It is a finished conception, 
 perfect, if you please, but immutable; it has nothing more to say; 
 its construction can be repeated and imitated, but not modified 
 
 * See, in the “Diet, raisonné de l’Areh. franç.,” the article Construction (Vaults). In Fig. 
 47 we have given, at A, the plan of the first story ; at V, the plan of the piers above the col- 
 umns ; at U, the transverse section of the building ; and at X, the longitudinal section, show- 
 ing one bay. The cathedral of Arras was constructed after this system. We may still see at 
 Sens, in the nave and choir of the cathedral there, dispositions analogous to those we have 
 described. 
 
276 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 without altering its essential elements ; it is a cross-vault on a square 
 plan, and cannot be anything else ; while from the system of con- 
 struction presented in the section (Fig. 47) can be deduced conse- 
 quences without number, because the equilibrium of balanced forces 
 enables us to indulge in all imaginable combinations, and opens 
 to us paths ever new. 
 
 We are now prepared to examine critically the forms of that new 
 architecture which arose from the lay school of the West at the close 
 of the twelfth century. We can see at a glance that the tendency 
 towards methods of reason as opposed to methods of tradition 
 appears not only in the construction of the buildings of this epoch, 
 but in their forms and decoration. We have learned that the an- 
 cient Greeks admitted only the vertical point of support, charged 
 vertically with the lintel of a single stone ; that the Romans long em- 
 ployed both the arch and lintel, without using any effort to harmonize 
 their conflicting principles ; that at the end of the empire, aided 
 by the Greeks, they allowed the arch to bear directly upon the 
 column, but without attempting to create any definite relations 
 between these two features ; and that the Romanesque school of the 
 West developed combinations in which the column at last yielded 
 to the arch, and became a comparatively unimportant accessory. 
 (See Plate XI.) Among the first Gothic architects, the arch abso- 
 lutely conquered the vertical point of support ; it governed, not only 
 the structure of the edifice, but its form ; it became the fountain 
 of all the architecture of the time. The Romans had, indeed, in 
 many cases, submitted their structure to the arch or vault ; but, I 
 repeat, every point of support in their architecture was an inert 
 mass, and their vaulted buildings were, so to speak, scooped out 
 of a solid substance ; they were cast in an enormous mould ; but 
 the architects of the twelfth century gave to every part of their build- 
 ings an active function. The column really supported, and, if its 
 capital projected, it was to bear a superincumbent weight ; if the 
 profile and ornaments of this capital were developed, it was because 
 this development was practically or aesthetically necessary. If the 
 vaults were divided by many ribs, it was because these ribs were 
 so many nerves, each fulfilling a distinct function. The stability 
 of every point of support was regulated by the kind and amount 
 of work it had to perform. Every thrust of an arch found another 
 thrust to cancel it. Walls disappeared, and became only screens. 
 
GOTHIC CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 277 
 
 not supports. The whole system became a frame which maintained 
 itself, not by its mass, but by a combination of oblique forces recip- 
 rocally destroying each other. The vault was no longer a con- 
 crete crust, a hollow shell in a single piece, but an intelligent com- 
 bination of pressures always in action, and referring themselves 
 to certain points of support disposed to receive them and to trans- 
 mit them to the ground. Mouldings and ornaments were cut and 
 arranged to aid in making these combinations intelligible; every 
 moulding exactly performed a useful function ; on the exterior, they 
 were contrived, by projections of the simplest outlines, to protect the 
 walls from the wash of rains ; within, they were rare, only designat- 
 ing the various levels of construction or developing boldly to serve 
 as corbels or bases. The ornaments were composed only with the 
 local flora, for the architects wished to use their own material of de- 
 sign, without borrowing anything from the past or from foreign arts. 
 These ornaments were always chosen for the place they were to oc- 
 cupy, were always visible and easy to comprehend, while remaining 
 ever subordinate to the architectural and constructional lines of the 
 building ; they were sculptured in the stone-yard, before laying, and 
 took their rank as necessary members of the whole. 
 
 In the Gallo-Roman buildings, erected during the decline of the 
 empire, sculpture seems to have been spread at hazard upon walls, 
 pilasters, and even upon the shafts of the columns ; it would appear 
 that, when the construction was completed, sculptors were let loose 
 upon the rough walls to carve upon them as many figures as they 
 would hold, without regard to joints or beds. 
 
 The Romanesque architecture, towards its decline, especially in 
 Western France,®' fell into the same abuse. But the lay architects 
 of the French school at once abandoned these habits, which were 
 the unmistakable marks of a declining art. The ornamentation, 
 in their hands, became sober and rational; it occupied only certain 
 parts of the architecture, was always subordinate, and so nicely bal- 
 anced in quantity and treatment that it could neither be decreased 
 nor augmented without injury to the general harmony. 
 
 We are very apt to judge of these buildings according to their 
 present appearance, regardless of the fact that, during the lapse of 
 seven centuries, they have submitted to many changes and mutila- 
 tions ; and to blame their original architects for faults and marks 
 
 * As in certain monuments of Poitiers belonging to the twelfth century. 
 
278 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 of poverty in design or material which are really the result of subse- 
 quent additions or degradations. On the other hand, it must be 
 admitted that, forming our judgment concerning the monuments 
 of classic antiquity from their shattered ruins, our imagination, 
 supplying that which is wanting, is apt to create beauties which 
 never existed. It has already been remarked that very many Roman 
 buildings would gain nothing by restoration ; that which remains, 
 the structure, being often all that constituted their grandeur or 
 beauty. I would not say this, however, of Greek architecture, which, 
 on the contrary, to be appreciated at its full value, should be sup- 
 posed completed and surrounded by all its accessories. 
 
 Now, as our architecture has been inspired much more by Roman 
 than by Greek precedent since the Renaissance, we have neglected 
 one of the most precious qualities which mediaeval architecture shared 
 with Greek, but which did not appear in our Roman models. The 
 Roman was not sensitive to the charms of outline, and concerned 
 himself little regarding the general aspect of his monuments, which, 
 from accidental points of view, therefore, were frequently anything 
 but attractive to the eye. When, in imagination, we restore the 
 actual mass of those great piles which were the especial marks of 
 his genius, we find that, athough imposing from their dimensions, 
 they never presented, in general lines or in combination of masses, 
 the elegance which always distinguished the Greek works. I repeat, 
 that light, the transparency of the atmosphere, the peculiarities of the 
 site and of its neighborhood, were essential elements in every Greek 
 design ; how the angles of the structure should be profiled against 
 the sky, or detached from the blue background of the mountains, 
 were always matters of especial study. It is very evident that the 
 Greeks never fell into the great modern architectural error of study- 
 ing their designs only in geometrical elevation , without that very exact 
 and very delicate regard for perspective effects which is essential to 
 successful composition ; on the contrary, they studied these effects, 
 and allowed for them in their designs, like true artists, understanding 
 very well that, when executed, their monuments could never be seen 
 geometrically. Such calculations, the especial care of men endowed 
 with a just and delicate feeling for form, never troubled the brain of 
 the Roman, whose only preoccupation, it is easy to see, was the 
 geometrical design, the positive considerations of structure, without 
 regard to the destructive and distorting effects of perspective upon 
 
PERSPECTIVE DESIGN. 
 
 279 
 
 proportions. Our imitation of Roman art lias led us into the same 
 error, and we combine our plans and elevations upon paper, too often 
 regardless of the effects which the latter should present when exe- 
 cuted and seen from the most usual points of view. But, like the 
 Greeks, the French architects of the twelfth century had a very culti- 
 vated and refined sentiment in regard to effect ; they caressed their 
 architectural forms and shaped them with a tender regard for their 
 outline in perspective, and never labored under the lamentable hal- 
 lucination of modern times, that their monuments were to be seen 
 perpendicularly to one of their faces, rather than from the accidental 
 angles of view assumed by the beholder. The Greeks had a passion 
 for architecture, and so loved it that, in going to and fro on their 
 various concerns, they looked at their monuments ; and their archi- 
 tects, therefore, took good care that the aspect of their buildings 
 should be agreeable from every point of view, and, above all, that 
 their outlines should be always happy. Now, the barbarous mediae- 
 val architects of France had the same artistic foibles ; but in these 
 modern days, when we have become decidedly Latin, and are at last 
 really a sensible people, we are accustomed to go about our occu- 
 pations without any of this weak affection or interest for the out- 
 line of a monument ; or, if we think it the proper thing to be ama- 
 teurs of the fine arts, and to be familiar with the productions of orn- 
 era, we post ourselves directly in front of a façade, right on its 
 centre line, and unhappy is the architect if one side is not found to 
 be an exact copy of the other; for symmetry seems to be almost 
 the only quality of design to which we are sensitive. By degrees 
 our architects have abandoned the custom of composing their designs 
 in perspective in their studios, or, at least, all their graphic studies 
 are geometrical. I do not believe the Greeks did so, and it is 
 certain that the mediaeval architects always allowed for effects pro- 
 duced at accidental angles of view, as is evident from the manner 
 in which all the angles and corners of their edifices were combined, 
 from the profiles of their cornices, and from the way in which they 
 placed pyramids or spires with an octagonal base upon prisms or 
 towers with a square base. It is proved also by the fact that their 
 buildings, when viewed in perspective, present many points of excel- 
 lence and harmony which, when those buildings are drawn in geo- 
 metrical elevation, can neither be seen nor suspected. 
 
 There is still another quality, which, although shared by our mediae- 
 
280 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 val architects with the Greeks, we have almost entirely lost, since 
 we have imagined that we were Romans ; I refer to the sentiment 
 of form. Onr lay schools of the twelfth and thirteenth centu- 
 ries possessed this sentiment in a very marked degree ; and if the 
 architecture of the Greeks and that of the Ile-de-France in the 
 twelfth century are opposed to each other in principle, and therefore 
 necessarily very dissimilar in results, we find the most striking 
 relations between them in everything which relates to elegance of 
 form, profiles, and ornamentation, in certain effects of detail, in the 
 study of outline, and in the emphasis with which those parts are 
 treated which belong at once to construction and decoration ; there 
 is, indeed, no imitation, there is no identity of forms between the 
 two arts, but there is a very strong resemblance as regards habits 
 of thought and expression. If our mediaeval architects did not avail 
 themselves of the resources furnished by the application of color to 
 form to the extent that the Greeks did, they discovered, in variety 
 of form, effects of which the Greeks were ignorant ; they were much 
 more sensitive to form than to color, rather draughtsmen than color- 
 ists. The French, during the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, and 
 sixteenth centuries, had remarkable schools of sculptors and archi- 
 tects, and the seventeenth century abounded in excellent engravers ; 
 but our painters were never able to rival those of Italy, and our 
 decorators, in the art of combining colors, never attained the excel- 
 lence of the Orientals. The French, however, have shown them- 
 selves a people particularly endowed with all the qualities which 
 distinguish the architect, and, if they do not continue to be led 
 astray by errors of education, they will again develop these char- 
 acteristics of their nature. 
 
 For some years past it has been generally recognized that the 
 lay architectural schools of the end of the twelfth century were 
 very profound and very refined, perhaps even too refined, in their 
 art ; that they exhibited a great inspiration and abundant resources ; 
 but the forms, the characteristic developments of this art, have never 
 yet been seriously considered. It was by these forms that our me- 
 diaeval architects gave utterance to the liveliest expression of the 
 national genius, — a genius naturally supple, quick and fertile in ex- 
 pedients, mingling grandeur with a simplicity perhaps more affected 
 than sincere, rational, yet at the same time fickle, changeable, and 
 apt to prefer appearance to reality. 
 
THE CRAFT-SPIRIT IN GOTHIC ART. 
 
 281 
 
 A people who, though civilized in the beginning, had for several 
 centuries been oppressed by barbarian conquerors, and delivered over 
 to secular or clerical feudalism; whose enlightenment had for a long 
 time reached them only through the cloak of the monk, but who, 
 nevertheless, in a few years built up a complete art, logical in all 
 its principles, and novel in all its means and ends, from structure 
 to form ; a people who, having constituted such an art, pursued all its 
 logical developments with enthusiasm, led astray by no side issues 
 and admitting no reaction, — such a people have abundantly proved 
 themselves possessed of a most extraordinary instinct, if they have 
 not added to the history of art a chapter which has no parallel. 
 
 But let us return to our historical sketch. Prance, we have said, 
 in the middle of the twelfth century, was so situated politically and 
 socially that the cloister no longer had the monopoly of art. A 
 purely lay school arose, which at once reacted against the monastic 
 spirit 1 >y substituting investigation and experiment for consecrated 
 traditions ; the new principles thus developed were obtained, not 
 from perfecting imposed types, but from science and the observation 
 of laws not up to that time admitted in the art of construction. 
 This school was a sort of freemasonry, drawing its inspiration from 
 itself; while holding to the liberty of the workman, it never for an 
 instant turned aside from the line of progress it had laid out ; it 
 abandoned not only the methods of construction used bv the Roman- 
 esque architects, but their mouldings, their sculpture and fashions of 
 decorating ; in a quarter of a century it transformed not only the 
 tine but the industrial arts, and absorbed the patronage of all the 
 great bodies of state ; though always of the people, it became so 
 powerful that it was called upon to build the château, the municipal 
 hall, the palace, the hospital, and the fortress, as well as the church, 
 and even the very convent which had thus allowed the monopoly of 
 art to escape from its bosom. In this great, popular art-movement 
 the individual artist had his work to do, but he never affixed his 
 signature ; he was anonymous ; the movement was the result of a 
 craft-spirit which brought into complete discipline all that perfect 
 liberty of thought and act which was necessary to the art-workman, 
 and all the science and skill which were essential to the work ; there 
 was no power to hinder this school from a natural and triumphant 
 development ; it everywhere gave free expression to its tastes and 
 preferences, its hatred of injustice and oppression, and even its ten- 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 9 co 
 
 «4 /0<w 
 
 dency to satire. So thoroughly did it assert its independence in 
 works of art, that, when this liberty finally became license, there were 
 none to arrest it ; but it was by this license that at last it fell, after 
 having forced its principles to an exaggerated and unnatural develop- 
 ment, its workmanship to an unnecessary perfection, and its science 
 to the last limits of possibility. 
 
 Now, if must be remembered by those who would reject Gothic 
 art as a motive for modern design because it arose in the Dark Ages, 
 that this emancipation of the artist and of the laborious classes — 
 an emancipation which restored them to their duty of interpreting 
 by works the national genius — had nothing in common with ine- 
 diæval politics. Men who labored incessantly in their intellectual 
 development, and in perfecting the practical means of an art which 
 belonged to them and of which they alone were masters, must not 
 be confounded with those petty feudal tyrants, who, though they 
 swarmed over the surface of politics and disturbed it with continual 
 brawl and bloodshed, had no influence either for or against this 
 peaceful society of artists and artisans, were powerless to arrest or 
 develop its progress, and were only too happy to avail themselves 
 of its harmless industry and intelligence. These artists and artisans 
 did not make the state of society in the midst of which they lived. 
 They did not obtain their independence by disturbing the world 
 with propagandas and revolutions. But. it was by labor, and by 
 unity of labor, that they sought to isolate and elevate and enlarge 
 the circle in which they were placed. Shall we be so ungrateful 
 as not to recognize these efforts ? We honor with statues a few 
 commonplace artists, who are nothing more than plagiarists of arts 
 foreign to our country and our genius ; but shall we have no recogni- 
 tion in our hearts for men who, in a position so modest, were the 
 first who expressed national unity, and the revival of learning, of art, 
 and of science, by an outward and visible sign ? 
 
 This unprecedented development of moral power and influence, 
 exhibited by the lay school at the end of the twelfth century, can- 
 not be explained by the theory that the Romanesque or monastic 
 schools had fallen so low that an immediate and radical reform had 
 become necessary and natural ; ou the contrary, if we examine into 
 the history of these schools at the time when the great lay school 
 began its triumphant career, we shall find that they were all flourish- 
 ing and producing works of rare elegance ; but they were divided. 
 
ELEGANCE OE SOME ROMANESQUE WORK. 
 
 283 
 
 At the beginning of the twelfth century, the Cistercian building 
 did not resemble the Clunisian, the architecture of Poitiers had no 
 analogy with that of Normandy, and this differed essentially from 
 the architecture of the Ile-de-France, which, in its turn, was distinct 
 from that of Auvergne and Limousin ; the Romanesque art of Bur- 
 gundy and Lyons was not that of Champagne ; yet all these schools 
 possessed the elements of life, their executive facilities had been 
 brought to great perfection, and they each, reflecting as they did the 
 characteristics of the people or traditions among which they had 
 grown, exhibited distinctive traits of originality. Thus, in Bur- 
 gundy, the Romanesque architecture of the twelfth century was en- 
 tirely Clunisian ; in Champagne it was rather Cistercian ; in Au- 
 vergne it was delicate, elegant, and held to local Roman traditions 
 and to Byzantine influences, which had come by way of Périgord 
 and Limousin ; in Poitiers it was confused, overcharged with sculp- 
 ture, and still retained the imprint of Gallo-Roman arts ; in Nor- 
 mandy it was severe, methodical, scientific, powerful, refined in con- 
 struction, but poor in decoration ; it was the expression of a people 
 positive and calculating in disposition, tenacious and self-contained, 
 but without traditions ; in the Ile-de-France this architecture was 
 refined, quiet, pliant, and already bore the marks of that reserve 
 which is always the indication of an elevated taste. In Saintonge, 
 the Romanesque architecture of this era was plainly the faithful expo- 
 nent of the mild and tranquil people of the West, made up of firm- 
 ness and refinement ; this approached, perhaps, nearest of all to the 
 Greek art of the Byzantine period ; it possessed all its charm, all the 
 elegance and purity of its details, all its delicacy and frankness of 
 execution. 
 
 Let us study, for example, in Plate NIL, the side elevation of the 
 church of St. Eutropius at Saintes. Would you not take this for one 
 of the Byzantine monuments from the shores of the Adriatic, but 
 better reasoned in construction, and even more Greek than they 
 in the execution of its details ? The lower windows give light to 
 a crypt, the bays of the aisles within are indicated externally by 
 discharging arches, in which, as it were, the vaults penetrate through 
 the outer walls. The architect understood how to give grandeur 
 to his order bv the arrangement of his apertures ; he considered, not 
 without reason, that if the archivolts of his windows were concentric 
 with the discharging arches, to which we have referred, they would 
 
284 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 give to these bays too much importance ; lie felt that concentric 
 arches of different diameters, repeated one under the other, would 
 have a disagreeable effect, so he preferred to pierce the wall under 
 the crown of the main arches with circular windows, which, while 
 admitting light into the interior, serve also to indicate that the in- 
 terior vaulting rises as high as the outer discharging arches. The 
 whole construction is composed of small materials, such as could 
 be carried up by hand, without the aid of machines. The profiles 
 of the mouldings are extremely delicate, and drawn with consummate 
 art. The ornaments are but an embroidery, whose purity and charm- 
 ing arrangement illustrate, without disguising the mouldings. Not- 
 withstanding this poverty of resource and simplicity of means, this 
 architecture has a grand effect; it is easy to understand, and plainly 
 expresses it destination. This is one of a hundred examples not less 
 remarkable, which were produced by the best schools of the West in 
 the beginning of the twelfth century; and if we compare this art 
 with the Western Italian architecture of the same or nearly the same 
 epoch, as instanced in the exterior side view of the cathedral of Pisa, 
 in which there is no indication whatever of the interior structure, 
 which in proportions is not agreeable, in aspect is cold and monoto- 
 nous, in details deplorably executed, with profiles imitated from the 
 last epoch of Roman art, — in which example, I ask, is the real sci- 
 ence and the higher art ? It is true that the side of the cathedral of 
 Pisa is a facing of costly marble, that it rests upon a beautiful plat- 
 form of the same material, and is admirably placed, while the church 
 of St. Eutropius at Saintes has been thrice devastated, its base is lost 
 in rubbish, defiled with tilth, and overgrown with weeds and bram- 
 bles, and it is in Prance ; yet need it shrink from the comparison ? 
 
 I think it well to present, in Pig. 48, a few of the details and pro- 
 files which decorate this architectural fragment.* He avIio has had 
 the least experience in the effect of architectural profiles, and who 
 has considered how profoundly reasoned and tenderly felt were the 
 Greek profiles of antiquity and of the Byzantine epoch, cannot fail to 
 detect a close analogy between the Greek mouldings and these, in 
 
 * The profile A is the arch i volt of one of the high windows ; the profile B belongs to one of 
 the main discharging arches ; the detail C is a capital of one of the high windows, and D is 
 one of the capitals of the grand order supporting the arcade. The profile E is of the string- 
 course under the high windows, and the design F is the archivolt of the windows of the crypt. 
 These arches have all different profiles of mouldings and different decorations. Those of the 
 crypt windows are the only ones alike. 
 
ELEGANCE OF SOME ROMANESQUE WORK. 
 
 285 
 
 method of composition, in knowledge of effect, in freedom from the 
 restraints of precedent, and in their management of the contrasts 
 
 Fig. 48. 
 
2S6 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 of light and shade. But it is useless to enlarge on topics so delicate 
 and so entirely matters of artistic feeling ; reasoning will prove noth- 
 ing to those who have not the sentiment of art. 
 
 At about the same time the Clunisians constructed the nave of 
 Vezelay. (See Plate XI.) The Romanesque of Burgundy is as robust 
 and even rude as that of Saintonge is fine and delicate. At Saintes 
 the capitals are short, of very slight projection, and covered with 
 sculpture like jewelry; the mouldings are flat, and composed of a 
 great number of members ; the ornaments are a mere embroidery ; 
 the proportions are elongated, and almost slender. At Vezelay, on the 
 contrary, the construction is made up of large stones, the proportions 
 are stumpy, the capitals are enormous and widely spread, to carry 
 arches without mouldings ; the mouldings are large and simple in 
 composition ; the sculpture energetic, strong, and still savage, but full 
 of style ; we recognize here an art which knows its power and would 
 fain rule. The Norman school resembles neither of these; to find 
 the best specimens of that branch of the Romanesque school, pre- 
 serving its characteristics through the twelfth and thirteenth centu- 
 ries, we must leave Prance and seek them in England, where this 
 style was developed at the end of the eleventh century. The Normans 
 were skilful constructors ; yet they did not undertake to build very 
 wide vaults until such vaults had long been common in Burgundy 
 and the Ile-de-France. Even so late as the close of the twelfth 
 century, they continued to cover their high naves with wood, but 
 they gave to their vertical constructions a monumental character 
 which cannot be found elsewhere. The Normaiïs, although occupied 
 by great political enterprises, Avere endowed with a subtle and posi- 
 tive spirit, evidences of which we can see imprinted upon their mon- 
 uments. It is easy to recognize this in the earlier parts of the 
 churches of the Trinity and St. Stephen at Caen, in the remains of 
 those at St. Wandrille and Jumiéges, and especially in the monu- 
 ments erected by them on the other side of the Channel. The tran- 
 sept of the cathedral of Peterborough, for example, built about the 
 middle of the twelfth century, perfectly expresses the peculiarities 
 of the Norman style at the moment of its greatest splendor. (See 
 Plate XIII.) Here we see great precision in masonry, careful exe- 
 cution, but no sculpture ; a well-reasoned and intelligent construc- 
 tion, a fine feeling for proportions, monotonous profiles, but carefully 
 adapted to the place they occupy, and a seeking for great decora- 
 
I’l \?r 
 
 THE CATHEDRAL OF PETERBOROUGH. 
 
 PART OF 
 
 NAVE, INTERIOR. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
CHARACTERISTIC DEVELOPMENTS OE ROMANESQUE. 2S7 
 
 tive effects. Plate XIII., on the right side, indicates the system of 
 construction employed ; the walls are not open in their lower parts, 
 and they are decorated with an arcade G applied to the surface. 
 Along the second range of windows, at I, the architect has reserved 
 a passage in the thickness of the wall to give access to the glass, and 
 thus facilitate repairs and cleaning. At the height of the third 
 range of windows, the construction is still more lightened, and 
 the passage K forms an open arcade along the transept. Under 
 every tie-beam of the wooden roof, engaged columns, starting 
 from the pavement, divide the order into hays. If this architecture 
 is further from Roman art than that of any other Romanesque style 
 or epoch, it must be admitted that it wants neither grandeur nor 
 sagacity. 
 
 While the Romanesque architecture of Burgundy Avas robust, bold, 
 and full of life, while that of Normandy was grand and compara- 
 tively scientific, while that of the ancient Celtic populations of the 
 West was elegant, delicate, and refined, that, of the Ile-de-France, at 
 the beginning of the twelfth century, Avas simple, modest, and Latin 
 in construction and form, yielding to the nature of the material em- 
 ployed, and already giving indications of a chastened taste, as far 
 removed from exaggeration as from timidity. The valleys of the 
 Middle Seine, of the Oise, and of the LoAver Marne are still occu- 
 pied by a great many buildings of this epoch, charming in plan, 
 learned in construction, sober in sculpture. But what distinguishes 
 this province more especially from all those which compose France 
 proper is variety. In Auvergne, for example, all the edifices of the 
 eleventh century resemble each other, and appear to have been built 
 under the same patron and by the same workmen. The same re- 
 mark is true of Burgundy, of the Upper Marne, and of the ancient 
 territory of the Ædui. And there are certain ideas and principles 
 in Norman architecture which never vary. It is the same with 
 Poitiers and Saintonge. But in the Ile-de-France, even in the 
 Romanesque epoch, there appeared a liberty and variety in the 
 types indicating incessant efforts to shake off the restraints of 
 tradition. It Avas from this series of efforts and experiments that 
 that architecture Avas finally deduced, which Suger, as I have 
 said, seemed to have inaugurated by a bold and sudden stroke of 
 original genius in the abbey church of St. Denis. This archi- 
 tecture soon found its Avay into other provinces, according to 
 
288 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 their respective sensitiveness to receive and be modified by new 
 ideas. Tims to the active and enterprising spirit of the Burgun- 
 dians these innovations were peculiarly grateful, and were soon 
 adopted by them; nor did the Normans long delay to appropri- 
 ate the new principles in their fashion. But the provinces of the 
 centre and west neither comprehended nor adopted them ; their 
 sluggish spirit, and, it must be admitted, the perfection to which the 
 Romanescpie architecture had already been brought among them, left 
 no desire for innovations. They were content for the time with what 
 they had, and did not desire change. In fact, the architecture called 
 Gothic, of which we speak, did not penetrate into these provinces till 
 very late, towards the close of the thirteenth century, and even then 
 it was received as a foreign importation, or rather as an irresistible 
 invasion to which all local systems of art had to yield. 
 
 It is a fact, demonstrated by history, that the arts have but a very 
 feeble influence in the midst of a highly civilized society, possessing 
 a settled government and good laws ; here they become, naturally, a 
 mere matter of luxury, modifying less and less the manners and 
 customs of the nation. But when society is in process of forma- 
 tion, the case is very different; art becomes then a powerful agent 
 in the development of civilization ; and if there exist any points 
 of affinity between the races and ancient local traditions, it becomes 
 one of the most active instruments of unity. Thus, in the first years 
 of the thirteenth century, the royal power availed itself of this means 
 to assist in its efforts towards national unity ; the result was, that 
 wherever this art-influence was applied and felt, it manifested itself 
 in the construction of a cathedral (which was a civil as well as a 
 religious monument), built according to the new principles which 
 were first admitted at St. Denis, in the centre of the royal do- 
 main. The civil and military kept pace with the religious archi- 
 tecture ; and in the city where a Gothic cathedral was constructed, 
 civic buildings, mansions, and fortifications arose at the same time, 
 and in an equal degree divested of the influence of Romanesque 
 traditions. If there ever was a Renaissance in Trance, it was at this 
 epoch, when the lay spirit entered upon its illustrious era of natural 
 and unrestricted action, when arts and crafts were freely developed 
 in the bosom of a nation which at length recognized its own nation- 
 ality, and gathered itself up as a concretion of intelligent powers 
 after ages of obscurity and misery. 
 
ADAPTABILITY OF GOTHIC. 
 
 289 
 
 I cannot, within these limits, undertake to describe in detail the 
 principles and spirit of the French architecture of the thirteenth 
 century ; this work has been done elsewhere ; I shall content myself, 
 therefore, with considering those qualities of this era of art which 
 especially interest us, and may be applied to art-development in 
 all times and in every state of society. 
 
 An architecture whose form is sufficiently elastic, and Avhose prin- 
 ciples are sufficiently broad, to be adapted to all the complex and 
 changing requirements of civilized society, is no common thing ; 
 if such an art does exist, we have a very serious interest in studying 
 its form and examining into its principles. In the state of scepticism 
 into which we have fallen in respect to art, we have very little real 
 interest in the emulation of rival schools, or in the pseudo-Greek, the 
 pseudo-Roman, or the pseudo-Gothic which they give us. But what 
 we are concerned about is, that public and private buildings should, 
 in plan and construction, be made to conform to our usages, to our 
 climate, to our national spirit, and to the progress which has been 
 made in science and practical knowledge. Indeed, to state this point 
 frankly, I dare to' say that, while it is impossible, in building a Greek 
 or Roman edifice, properly to employ in it certain materials, like 
 iron, which modern ingenuity and industry have developed into use- 
 fulness, the principles and methods of building developed by the lay 
 architects at the end of the twelfth century admit, without effort, the 
 employment of every new material, and are adaptable to all the re- 
 quirements of modern society. Again, economy, on account of the 
 multiplicity of these modern requirements to be satisfied, lias become 
 a necessity. Now we cannot avail ourselves of the absolute and lim- 
 ited principles of the styles of antiquity without adopting their meth- 
 ods, which were very costly ; we are therefore, in so doing, dragged 
 into expenses which are not in proportion to our resources ; or, if 
 we would change these methods, we falsify the essential principles 
 of antique art, and produce only works without artistic value. To 
 build Roman columns of brick or wood covered with stucco, or even 
 of low courses of stone, to surmount these columns with lintels 
 made up of stone facings hung upon concealed trusses of iron, or 
 applied to concealed arches of brick, in order to avoid the expense 
 of those long blocks of granite and marble which the classic styles re- 
 quire, is to use other methods than the classic, which we imitate, and 
 to substitute an absurd and ephemeral falsehood, whose cost is not 
 19 
 
290 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 justified by the real value of the object attained ; more than this, 
 it is a want of good taste, for good taste in art consists in knowing 
 how most gracefully to confess the truth. 
 
 The architects of the lay school of the Middle Ages, notwithstand- 
 ing the tendency which has at all times been manifested by our 
 countrymen for show, always caused the form, the appearance, to 
 be modified by the materials and methods they employed. They 
 never, moreover, gave to the saloon of a château the appearance 
 of a church, to a hospital the aspect of a palace, to a city house the 
 outside of a country house ; everything was adapted to its place and 
 actual uses, and confessed its own character ; if the apartment was 
 spacious, the windows were large ; if small, its outer apertures, in 
 character and size,- were fitted to the area to which they admitted air 
 and light ; if a building was divided into stories, the fact was ac- 
 knowledged on the exterior. In short, sincerity was one of the most 
 striking qualities of early Gothic architecture ; and this same 
 quality of sincerity is one of the essential conditions of style in all 
 arts, and also one of the conditions of economy as regards expense. 
 It is a singular fact that these lay architects were so bold and in- 
 ventive in their construction as, at length, actually to go beyond the 
 material resources at their disposal ; they preceded the industrial 
 movement of their time ; they wanted the practical means of express- 
 ing their great activity of theoretical science and imagination. But 
 if one of them should arise from his grave of the thirteenth century 
 to look upon the wonders of the nineteenth, while he would be 
 amazed at the resources of our industry, he could not but see that 
 they far outstrip our capacity for using them ; if the art of his time 
 was eager to profit by a great industrial development which it sought 
 for in vain, the pretended respect of the art of our time for venerable 
 doctrines (which no one, by the by, has taken the trouble to analyze) 
 prevents us from employing the means which abound in the nine- 
 teenth century. The result of this state of things is the isolation 
 of the modern artist ; instead of appropriating and eagerly anticipat- 
 ing the inventive activity of the day, he holds himself aloof, exclu- 
 sive in his knowledge of ancient precedent, bigoted in his respect for 
 ancient authority ; he tortures the discoveries of modern science, which 
 are imposed upon him by the spirit of the age, in order to make 
 them subservient to the forms and fashions which, in his blind 
 creed, have been declared immutable and sacred ; he adapts the new 
 
ADAPTABILITY OP GOTHIC. 
 
 291 
 
 idea to the old form, instead of modifying the old form to obtain the 
 full advantages of the new idea. 
 
 The modern architect is too often unwilling to create beauty out 
 of the means which are furnished him by the age, and then com- 
 plains that the age has lost the taste for beauty ; he complains that 
 the engineers, for example, intrench upon the domain of art, without 
 ever succeeding in the production of works of art, yet he studiously 
 refrains from dropping his superannuated routines and from placing 
 his artistic intelligence and training at the service of the new and 
 practical requirements of the day. I admit that all the architects 
 do not thus hold themselves aloof from progress, and that the most 
 numerous defenders of these exclusive doctrines touching architecture 
 are in the very imposing body of amateurs ; for every one likes to 
 think himself somewhat of an architect; which fact, indeed, very 
 much honors, but somewhat injures the art. But I am persuaded 
 that those architects who, avoiding scholastic prejudices and vulgar 
 opinions, would take the broadest ground and reason about their 
 work as our mediaeval predecessors reasoned, would before very long 
 succeed in substituting a more healthy architecture for that now 
 prevailing. In the end, reason must always get the upper hand ; 
 I say, in the end. 
 
 The lay school of the thirteenth century produced a true archi- 
 tecture, because it was pliable to all the uses of architecture, its 
 principles being based upon reason, which is elastic, and not upon 
 form, which is tyrannical and unbending. Prejudices of form never 
 laid their incubus upon the builders who erected such a prodigious 
 quantity of churches, palaces, châteaux, and civil and military works 
 in the thirteenth century; and yet, with all this freedom, there is not 
 the smallest fragment belonging to this epoch which does not bear 
 the indisputable stamp of its origin and time. 
 
 It should be understood that it is impossible to separate the form 
 of the architecture of this epoch from its structure ; every member 
 was the result of a constructional necessity, just as, in the vegetable 
 and animal kingdom, there is no phenomenon, no individuality, 
 which is not the result of an organic necessity ; however many kinds, 
 species, or varieties there may be, the botanist and the anatomist are 
 never at a loss about the function, place, age, or origin of any separate 
 organ which they may undertake to analyze. But we may deprive 
 a Roman monument of all its decoration, we may remove its appar- 
 
292 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ent form without any prejudice to its structure, or, on the other hand 
 (as has been done at the Roman Pantheon, for example,) we can 
 clothe a Roman structure with a decorative form which has no neces- 
 sary and intimate relation with it. But it is impossible to remove 
 from an edifice of the thirteenth century or to attach to it any decora- 
 tive form without injury to its solidity, its wholeness, its organism, if 
 1 may so express myself. This principle, so easy to comprehend, 
 and concerning which any one, on examination, can satisfy himself 
 with a little care, proves to us that, notwithstanding its apparent 
 complication, the art of the thirteenth century was constituted in 
 direct obedience to the necessities of construction. This very quality 
 of Gothic architecture has been made a subject of reproach against 
 it ; thus it is sometimes said, “ Show us the form, the order of archi- 
 tecture in this style, give us the rules which govern this form ; we 
 see the construction, but prove to us that the form is not a pure 
 fancy of the artists, the mere vagary of their capricious imaginations.” 
 To this I would reply : “ This form is not the result of caprice, since 
 it is the expression (the decorated expression, if you please) of the 
 construction ; it is impossible to give any absolute rules governing 
 this form, as its peculiar quality is to lend itself to all the necessities 
 of construction. Impose upon me a definite construction, and I will 
 find for you naturally the forms which should result from it ; but if 
 you change the construction, the forms also must be changed, not in 
 their spirit, for this spirit consists simply in expressing the construc- 
 tion faithfully, but in their appearance, which is varied according to 
 the new practical conditions of the problem.” 
 
 I admit that all this would be too subtle for a Roman, who 
 would find it much more convenient to dictate the structure, and to 
 leave its show to the decorators, without concerning himself to know 
 whether this show was a frank acknowledgment of the construction 
 
 or not. Yet we cannot regard as bad that method which proceeds 
 from an entirely different basis, and, in an art so serious as architec- 
 ture, undertakes to make the visible form subordinate to the neces- 
 sities of the construction and the programme. It is worthy of note 
 that this intimate alliance between the appearance and the structure 
 is not only appreciated by artists and men of culture, but it satisfies 
 the eyes of the multitude, because their eyes have an instinctive 
 logic. Thus, in Greek architecture, an order in which all the mem- 
 bers fulfil a useful and necessary function satisfies the eyes even of 
 
ALLIANCE OF FORM WITH STRUCTURE. 
 
 293 
 
 those who are entirely ignorant of the necessities imposed upon it by 
 the laws of statics. In the same manner, cross-vaultings reciprocally 
 abutting against each other and referring their resultant pressure to 
 a slender column, as in the refectory of St. Martin-des-Champs, for 
 example, satisfy the eye, because, without understanding how mutual 
 thrusts of vaults obtain a neutral result, any one can instinctively 
 comprehend that this column can be safely slender, since, as its duty 
 is merely to present a point of resistance to neutralized thrusts, a 
 rigid vertical line alone is necessary. 
 
 A few examples will suffice, I hope, to make it intelligible to all 
 that the lay school of the twelfth century was made up of men who 
 were not only subtle reasoners and skilful geometers, but were emi- 
 nently endowed with those delicate qualities which we all recognize 
 among Greek architects. I have just said that the eye has an instinc- 
 
 Fig. 49. 
 
 five logic ; I refer to eyes which see without prejudice, — the eyes of 
 the public, in fact. It is a singular phenomenon that what we are 
 accustomed to call “ illusions of the eye ” are but instinctive pre- 
 monitions of certain natural laws confirmed by scientific observation, 
 as if God had endowed the human eye with the faculty of intuitively 
 foreseeing that which reason presently imposes as a law. And why 
 should not our eyes be provided with a particular instinct, like our 
 conscience, which, before the existence of law, possessed the senti- 
 ment of justice and injustice, good and evil ? 
 
 Thus, for example (Fig. 49), we construct a wooden truss A, com- 
 
294 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 posed of a tie-beam and two principal rafters, that is to say, a primi- 
 tive truss. In construction, tliis tie-beam, however straight and 
 horizontal it may be in reality, will appear, by a common optical 
 illusion, to bend downward in the middle. But if I place a king- 
 post B, suspending the centre of the tie-beam to the apex of the 
 roof, the illusion disappears, and the expedient, which I have em- 
 ployed as a precautionary measure, to prevent the sagging of the tie- 
 beam, satisfies the doubt of the eye. This illusion then has warned 
 me of the real weak point in my truss ; it has prompted me to find 
 ont the only means by which the difficulty can be avoided ; the illu- 
 sion provoked the investigation of that which experience demon- 
 strates to be a law. But let us proceed to more delicate examples. 
 
 Fig. 50. Fig. 51. 
 
 If, in Big. 50, I construct a perfectly vertical pier, and if to the 
 flank of this pier at C I communicate the thrust of a vault, the arc 
 C D will cause the pier to seem to bend inward at the point of 
 thrust C, especially if, at A, I have another arc which operates to 
 
OCULAE INSTINCT IN DESIGN. 
 
 295 
 
 thrust the summit of the pier outward. This is an illusion ; but this 
 illusion, which disturbs my eye, prompts me to devise an expedient 
 at the point of inward thrust C which shall destroy the unpleasant 
 effect. To increase excessively the thickness of the pier A B would 
 be a certain means of obtaining this end, but I do not wish to 
 give to this pier more thickness than is necessary. 1 investigate the 
 matter, therefore, and I find the combination in Fig. 51 adopted by 
 the architects of the twelfth century. By means of this interruption 
 of the vertical lines at the height of the springing of the lateral 
 arc A B, the illusion is destroyed ; the pier, though in reality lighter, 
 seems not only vertical, but more powerful than the other, which 
 arose without interruption. Now, my experience proves to me that 
 this optical illusion was but a premonition of a law of statics which 
 I must discover and obey. The fact is that the resultant of the 
 thrusts of the arcs A B is destroyed by the vertical weight A C, 
 acting upon the line A H. Now, having a flying buttress C 1), 
 which cancels the outward thrust of the high vault, the equilibrium 
 of the two forces thus combined results in a vertical bearing, which 
 augments that of the intrinsic weight of the pier A C. • All the 
 thrusts are thus concentrated in a vertical line running down the 
 axis of the column E, whose diameter I am authorized to diminish 
 to the point of its capacity to bear the specified vertical weight. 
 Now, as the springing of the arches which uphold the wall G and 
 of the three ribs (one transverse and two diagonal) which consti- 
 tute the lateral vault, besides the direct perpendicular bearing of the 
 pier which sustains the high vault, all have to rest upon the capital 
 A, I am compelled to give to the abacus of this capital a large 
 bearing surface. I compose this capital, therefore, with a view to this 
 important function ; it must be strong, broad, and solid ; its profile 
 must indicate the duties it has to perform, its ornaments must be 
 robust in character, and, instead of cutting into the mass of the 
 capital and thus weakening it, should be contrived to furnish it 
 with actual reinforcements at the points where it is charged with 
 the superior weights. 
 
 On account of the principle of elasticity which constitutes my con- 
 struction, the column can even be moved aside from the vertical line, 
 without any inconvenient results, precisely because it has been re- 
 duced to a safe minimum of bearing surface, so that any slight 
 oblique movement, which might take place, by the settling of the 
 
29G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 masses of construction above, would not be so apt to break off the 
 edges of its base or capital, as if the column were thicker and less 
 able to yield to the accidental pressure. By means of the projections 
 of my capitals and of the supplementary corbels H, where necessary, 
 I have gathered together in the axes of the lower columns the result- 
 ants of the combinations of thrusts in the upper vaulting, and these 
 projections and corbels, far from destroying that aspect of solidity 
 which the eye requires, confer upon my construction a character of 
 robustness, and my ornamentation and profiles are composed so as 
 to aid the effect resulting more directly from the general structure.* 
 
 Fig. 52. 
 
 If we construct a façade whose two extreme lateral lines are per- 
 fectly vertical, this façade, Avhen constructed, will be apt to seem 
 larger at the summit than at the base (see Fig. 52) ; this also is an 
 illusion, and one most offensive to the eye.f The Greeks, therefore, 
 
 * See, for the most ample details concerning these kinds of constructions, in the “ Diet, rai- 
 sonné d’Arch.,” the word Construction. 
 
 t The former western facade of the church of St. Denis. We can see the same difficulty in 
 some façades belonging to the close of the twelfth century, as in that of the church of Notre 
 Dame de Mantes, for example. 
 
OCULAR INSTINCT IN DESIGN. 
 
 297 
 
 whose senses were cultivated to the last degree of perfection, were 
 always careful, in the façades of their monuments, to incline the 
 extreme lateral lines inward. In constructing the peristyles of their 
 temples, they were not content to give to the angle-columns the 
 normal inward inclination of all the others, hut, as indicated in an 
 
 Fig. 53. 
 
 exaggerated manner in Pig. 53, they gave them an especial inclina- 
 tion. They also increased the diameter of these angle-columns, and, 
 as has been elsewhere noted, narrowed the intercolumniation A B, 
 knowing that these angles, which would almost always be seen diag- 
 
 Fig. 54. 
 
 onally, would be detached against the sky or some luminous back- 
 ground, and that the light admitted thus around the angle-column 
 
298 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 would seem to enlarge the voids at the expense of the solids. ' Thus, 
 guided by a very delicate instinct of the eye, they anticipated a law 
 of statics. In the same manner, when they pierced a wall with an 
 aperture whose background would be dark, as in windows or doors 
 seen from without, if the jambs were made vertical (Fig. 54), the 
 Opening would appear larger at the summit than at the base ; so, 
 to cancel this illusion, the Greek architects adopted the same expe- 
 dient here and inclined their jambs inward (Fig. 55), thus not only 
 satisfying another instinct, that the same width is not required at the 
 upper part of a door as at the lower, but anticipating the statical law 
 that the bearing of a lintel supporting a great weight over a void 
 should be diminished as far as practicable. 
 
 Fig. 55. 
 
 The architects of the twelfth century*, though adopting forms of 
 architecture and systems of construction very different from those 
 of the Greeks, were directed by similar instincts. They always 
 diminished their facades towards the summit, not by inclinations 
 of lines, which are inadmissible except where monostyles are em- 
 ployed, as in Greek angle-columns and jambs, but by a successive 
 retreating of vertical lines as in the offsets of their buttresses which 
 were built up with low courses of stone. In the primitive apertures 
 of the Greeks (Fig. 55), the jambs were two long blocks of stone 
 
GREEK AND GOTHIC DOORWAYS. 
 
 21)9 
 
 standing on end and slightly inclined towards each other, and the 
 lintel laid across their summits was necessarily a single and thicker 
 stone; the two upright pieces were provided each with a tenon 
 on the upper bearing-surface (see A in Fig. 55) fitting into a cor- 
 responding mortise-hole on the under surface of the lintel, which was 
 made longer than the upper diameter of the aperture, in order that 
 the mortise-hole at each end might be sunk into the stone without 
 weakening it at points where strength was most necessary ; hence the 
 crossette, the ears, of the lintel of the Greek aperture. The architects 
 of the twelfth century made their jambs not of a single stone, but 
 in many superimposed courses, the level lintels, however, of course, 
 remaining a single block in all cases. Now, these architects, retrain- 
 ing from imitation of the Roman door with its architraves, which was 
 but a vulgar and misunderstood tradition of the Greek door, rea- 
 soned like the Greeks, and, wishing to diminish the bearing of their 
 lintels, they built up their jambs vertically and relieved the bearing 
 of the lintel by means of corbels, projecting from the upper course, 
 as indicated in Fig. 56;* and, to be still more certain that the 
 lintel should not break under the heavy weight of masonry which 
 they proposed to lay upon it, they built above it a discharging arch, 
 leaving thus both jambs and lintel free, and relieved of all unneces- 
 sary weight. The Greek relieved his lintel by diminishing the 
 aperture at its summit, and by corbelling inward the successive 
 courses of masonry above, leaving only two or three stones to bear 
 directly on it; the architect of the twelfth century relieved his lintel 
 by diminishing its bearing with the aid of two corbels under it, 
 and by building over it a discharging arch. The same instinct 
 prompted and the same law followed in both cases, but with a total 
 difference of principle in application and of form in result. Each 
 architect followed the same inspiration of Ins delicate nature, and 
 each arrived at results which, though opposed in form, were in the 
 main identical. 
 
 We have seen with what care the Greeks managed effect, how 
 thoroughly they comprehended what we call the picturesque, and 
 how, by refinement of conception and delicacy of execution, they 
 reached the very summit of art ; we have seen what a feeling they 
 had for lines, and how this feeling was expressed by a very subtle 
 and very fine study of natural laws and of the instinctive desires 
 
 * Lateral door of the façade of the cathedral of Senlis ; close of the twelfth century. 
 
300 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 of the eye. These same qualities we find in the French school of 
 the twelfth century, with less simplicity in means and less grandeur 
 in results, but with somewhat of the immeasurable audacity of 
 modern times. 
 
 Fig. 56. 
 
 The Greek architect, in designing, always sacrificed the apparent 
 grace of his geometrical studies to what he foresaw would be their 
 perspective effect when executed. Fie knew that the angles of his 
 edifices, always seen obliquely and from accidental points of view, 
 were the parts which required the most study, as those most affecting 
 
Fig. 57- 
 

 . 
 
 
 
THE CARYATIDES OE THE PANDROSEUM. 
 
 301 
 
 the outline and general exterior character of his composition. Thus, 
 a geometrical elevation of the little Pandroseum, annexed to the 
 Erectheum at Athens (Fig. 57), presents an enormous entablature 
 which seems to crush the supporting caryatides, and the stylobate 
 appears bare; but, if we examine this monument in execution, the 
 supporting figures at once assume such an importance by reason 
 of the firmness and purity of their sculpture, they bear the superin- 
 cumbent weight with so much ease and majesty, that what we con- 
 sider the disproportionate quantity of the entablature disappears, and 
 all the parts fall into their places and take just their due share in the 
 general harmony of the composition. The statuary is so treated that 
 even columns would seem less capable of doing the duty which they 
 perform with so much grace and dignity. Now, let us suppose that 
 the architect of the Pandroseum had not been endowed with so per- 
 fect a knowledge of effect, and that he had carried the angles of his 
 portico on two pilasters, using the caryatides only as intermediate 
 points of support ; lie would certainly have been sound and irre- 
 proachable as regards construction in so doing, but he would have 
 obtained a very commonplace profile instead of that bold but refined 
 line which the angle caryatid makes against the sky ; he would not 
 have attracted the eye, and his monument would have left no trace 
 upon the memory. An architect, under the dominion of those vulgar 
 rules which are mistaken in modern times for classic tradition, would 
 never have dared to present the angle caryatides, and, more espe- 
 cially, those on the returns of the portico, facing towards the front ; 
 he would have turned those on the angles so as to look outward 
 diagonally, and would have posed those on the returns in such a 
 manner that their faces would be towards the outside and their 
 backs towards the inside of the portico. To lay an entablature on 
 a statue in profile would be au enormity indeed ! But, apart from 
 the execution of this little structure (and the execution is admirable), 
 the whole merit of the composition resides in the simple, poetical 
 conception of six figures, moving forward, as it were, with the same 
 intent, bearing a canopy upon their heads. There is a calmness 
 in their attitude appropriate to the serious duty they are performing 
 as supports, and a unity of movement, a living idea in the whole 
 structure, which at once recommends itself to the imagination. 
 
 But it would be au error to suppose that the Greeks, in their archi- 
 tectural compositions, suffered themselves to be guided by their artis- 
 
302 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 tic instincts alone ; for we can always discover a profound reason in 
 everything they did. Tims, in this portico of the Pandrosenm, we 
 observe that the four anterior figures are posed, the two on the left 
 leaning on the right leg, and the two on the right leaning on the left 
 leg. The statues, taken here as supporting members, till exactly the 
 function of the angle columns of the portico in Tig. 53, which refer 
 all the pressures towards the centre of the edifice. But let us sup- 
 pose that the architect and sculptor, employed in erecting this struc- 
 
 Fig. 58. 
 
 B 
 
 ture, had not been united by the same thought ; that the sculptor 
 had worked apart from the architect, as often happens to-day, and, 
 instead of disposing the figures as indicated in Tig. 58, at A, that is 
 
ANALOGIES BETWEEN GREEK AND GOTHIC THOUGHT. 303 
 
 to say, hipped outward, lie had arranged them indifferently or in an 
 alternate order, as indicated in 13, the entablature would no longer 
 seem to be carried with ease, and the little editice would appear ready 
 to fall in pieces. 
 
 While the architects of the Renaissance and those of Louis XIV., 
 although they pretended to draw all their inspiration from the an- 
 tique, never suspected the existence of these great rules of art, estab- 
 lished as they were on a well-reasoned sentiment of truth, we can find 
 these rules habitually applied by the architects of the best mediæval 
 epoch, although of course in their own manner. But neither these 
 architects nor those of the Renaissance ever attained that repose and 
 serenity which is shed over everything from the hands of the Greek. 
 
 I know not how the Greek architects would have treated the angles 
 of very lofty structures, composed of several stories, to give them a 
 happy outline ; we have every reason to suppose that they would 
 have taken hold of the problem with their characteristic sagacity and 
 would have supplied us with examples full of instruction ; but if we 
 examine our great monuments of the French school, we shall find 
 in the composition of their angles qualities analogous to those dis- 
 played by the Greek artists on a more limited field ; we shall find 
 that the mediæval motives were inspired by a natural instinct not 
 less delicate and a habit of observation not less refined. It is easy 
 to see that the mediæval architects were preoccupied with the ne- 
 cessity of sustaining their angles by bold and well-relieved compo- 
 sitions so composed as to force themselves upon the observation and 
 memory of the beholder ; but, in this emergency, as in all others, 
 reason was in full understanding with sentiment. We must not 
 forget, in the first place, that these architects possessed strong and 
 hard stone for building, but that this stone could only be extracted 
 from the quarry in comparatively thin layers ; they had at their 
 disposition neither Pentelic marble, nor the granite blocks which the 
 Romans obtained from Corsica, the Alps, or the East. Necessity 
 required from the mediæval architects large structures, and from the 
 Greeks small structures ; but necessity also required that the former 
 structures should be built up in low courses of masonry, and the latter 
 constructed with enormous blocks. These differences of conditions 
 naturally had their influence on all the forms given to architecture, 
 even in tlieir vertical lines. The artist instinctively felt that a ma- 
 sonic wall of low courses of stone, whatever might be the firmness 
 
304 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 of these courses and the thickness of the supporting members, would 
 not present those sure and rigid lines which the eye requires in the 
 
 Fig. 59. 
 
 construction. Ills aim then was to obtain, especially for the angles, 
 pure lines to define his general profiles more strictly. So, as indi- 
 
GOTHIC DEVICES FOE RIGID MASONRY. 
 
 305 
 
 cated in Fig. 59, he inserted into this angle a monolithic column, so 
 isolating it from the surrounding masonry as to add to the apparent 
 strength of the angle. In very lofty edifices, composed, consequently, 
 of a great many courses, this fashion of placing dressed stones on edge 
 in the angles, thus obtaining rigid lines of support, had not only the 
 advantage of satisfying a requirement of the eye, but actually stiffened 
 the angles and relieved them from the task of apparently bearing 
 more than their share of the superincumbent masonry by referring 
 any settling which might take place to the middle of the wall-front; 
 in this the mediæval architect reasoned like the Greeks, when they 
 diminished the opening of their apertures at the summit and inclined 
 their angle columns towards the interior. 
 
 Whether by an artistic instinct, whether his eye prompted him be- 
 fore his reason intervened, or his reason before his eye, the lay archi- 
 tect of mediæval France always employed and combined stones on 
 end and stones in courses with remarkable address, both as regards 
 motives of decoration and means of construction. lie comprehended 
 that if, by means of hard stones laid up on edge, he could stay a high 
 wall built with low courses and consequently subject to settlings and 
 to deviations from the plumb-line, he could give to his buildings a 
 perfect stability, without the necessity of using enormous masses of 
 material ; that if he could substitute, in the mass of a wall, points of 
 support instead of surfaces of support, he could obtain equal stability 
 without the necessity of encumbering the ground with buttresses or 
 thick walls. Let us suppose that we have to build an isolated wall, 
 thirty feet high, of brick or thin courses of stone or rubble, and that 
 we cannot make it more than a foot thick ; it is evident that, to keep 
 it strictly vertical, we must strengthen it with buttresses ; but we are 
 required to leave the space at the foot of the wall free from such pro- 
 jections and to decorate the wall ; there is but one method left of 
 giving stability to this structure, and this is (Fig. CO) by setting 
 against the two faces and opposite to each other columns of some 
 very compact material, like cast-iron, for instance, superposing these 
 columns where necessary, retreating the upper ones a little, uniting 
 them to the body of the wall by intermediate headers or bonds, as at 
 A, and by charging their summit, B, with arches thrown from one to 
 the other. It is certain that this structure, recommended by laws of 
 equilibrium and statics, offers a suggestive motive for decoration. 
 
 This expedient for obtaining stability was adopted, but timidly, 
 20 
 
30G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 in the architecture of the Lower Empire and Byzantium. But it 
 is due to the western architects that it was finally erected into a 
 system. Thus, in cathedral towers, like those of Laon or Senlis, 
 we can see that the architects, with the idea of giving rigidity to 
 these structures, which were very lofty compared to the area of 
 their base, stiffened and at the same time decorated the angles with 
 stones on end, by means of which all the settling of the wall was re- 
 
 Fig. 60. 
 
 ferred towards the centre of the wall-face. The architect of the ba- 
 silica of Constantine (Eig. 46) did not evince this sound common-sense, 
 when he placed his rigid point of support, his monolithic column of 
 granite or marble, under the springing of his grand vault. This col- 
 umn would have been much better placed outside, against the end of 
 the buttresses or transverse walls ; for, if this structure had not been 
 
NOTRE DAME OE PARIS. 
 
 307 
 
 an enormous, concrete, homogeneous mass, much stronger than neces- 
 sary, if the vaults had admitted any settling or movement at all, the 
 point's of support under the springings of the vaults not being com- 
 pressible but rigid, the movement would have tended to throw the 
 whole structure outward, since it was more compressible in that 
 direction. 
 
 Let ns admire antiquity, but let us temper our admiration with 
 discretion ; let us not close our eyes to investigation and criticism, 
 nor commit the error of allowing the superiority evinced in many 
 respects in more modern times to pass without recognition. There 
 is no monument better fitted to illustrate the immense differences 
 which separate Roman art from that of the French lay school, than 
 the façade of the cathedral of Paris. The problem being to erect a 
 building which should surpass in size all others in the city, which 
 should fill exactly the functions of a cathedral, and which, as such, 
 should have both a civil and religious significance, and be, in short, 
 a sort of political manifestation, it would be scarcely possible to 
 imagine a composition more grand in general effect, better reasoned 
 in construction, or more skilfully executed in detail. Every one 
 knows the facade of Notre Dame of Paris ; but few persons, prob- 
 ably, have ever realized how much science and artistic taste, how 
 much painful study and elaborate care, how much perseverance and 
 acquired experience, were needed to build up that colossal pile in the 
 space of at most ten or fifteen years. But the work is not yet fin- 
 ished ; the two towers should be terminated by two spires to com- 
 plete and explain the carefully studied lines of the lower structure. 
 Here, certainly, there is art, and very high art. 
 
 It is necessary to place before the eyes of the readers of these Dis- 
 courses a general geometrical elevation of this facade, though no such 
 drawing can afford any just idea of the effect produced by the monu- 
 ment itself ; I must refer to photography to supply the unavoidable 
 deficiencies of a geometrical drawing. 1 refer to this façade, because 
 I have just spoken of how the angles of buildings are arranged with 
 a view to their outline, how forms are modified according to the 
 instinct of the eye, how stones in low courses and stones on end are 
 simultaneously employed, not only to stiffen the construction, but 
 to relieve the monotony of horizontal lines, and how construction and 
 decoration should be intimately associated. Nowhere else can these 
 various qualities be found in a combination more complete, more ho- 
 
308 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 mogeneous, and better reasoned than in this facade. Observe, in the 
 first place, that the architect evinced the most delicate artistic feeling 
 and a capacity, rarely exhibited in a building of such very great 
 dimensions, in so dividing his façade by great horizontal lines, as to 
 obtain an effect of repose and dignity, without cutting it into layers ; 
 and in so treating these divisions that, although they present spaces 
 unequal in size, richness, and character of detail, they nevertheless 
 are in keeping with each other and make up a perfect unity. This 
 is not an adventitious accumulation of architectural forms, capable 
 of change, modification, or even suppression, without injury to the 
 general design, such as we see in many Roman, Byzantine, and 
 modern monuments. Each one of these divisions exists by a neces- 
 sity of the whole composition ; thus, in the massive basement, there 
 are three great doors with their wide splays and sculptured arches. 
 To unite the richness of these three doors, and to relieve the naked- 
 ness of the lines of the intervening buttresses, four canopies project 
 from the latter, supported on little monostyle columns and covering 
 four colossal statues, yet without any interruption to the construc- 
 tional lines of these buttresses, whose outlines are recalled by the 
 little columns which appear in the form of a luminous line on either 
 side of each of these statues. 
 
 Above this basement, which, notwithstanding the profusion of 
 sculpture lavished under its archways, maintains a grave and solid 
 aspect, an open gallery or portico extends along the entire width 
 of the facade, composed of a range of monostyle columns with large 
 capitals supporting lintels cut in the form of open trefoil arches ; 
 in each intercolumniation is placed the colossal statue of a king. 
 Meanwhile, the architect has contrived that the projection of his 
 buttresses should still remain evident, without interrupting the hori- 
 zontal lines of this open gallery, which forms a belt of niches across 
 the front, of great firmness of composition and execution. The real 
 dimensions of this belt, though dwarfed by the great scale of the 
 whole façade, are made appreciable by the balustrade which sur- 
 mounts it, recalling the dimensions of a man. Above this, the four 
 buttresses are continued, gradually receding by successive stages of 
 offsets, but between them the three bays of the front fall back far 
 enough to leave a large terrace over the gallery of the kings, and 
 to aid in giving to this gallery a great importance as a decorative 
 line. In the central bay, beneath deep full-centred archivolts, is 
 
NOTRE DAME OF PARIS. 
 
 309 
 
 pierced the great rose-window, which marks the central nave and the 
 height of the interior vault. In the two lateral bays are double 
 windows, giving light to the principal chambers of the towers, and 
 brought to the general colossal scale of the edifice by being grouped 
 in pairs under large discharging arches, the space between these 
 arches and the windows ( spandrel ) being occupied in each group 
 by a small blank rose-window, recalling by the treatment of its 
 tracery the character of the central rose. This story, which is lower 
 than the height of the basement, is crowned by a great cornice 
 decorated with leaves, which returns around the buttresses, allow- 
 ing them to disengage themselves boldly from the general mass 
 of the wall. Then begins the construction of the two towers. It 
 is at this point that the genius of the artist may be especially recog- 
 nized. It is always a difficult task to disengage two towers, that 
 is to say, two thick, solid masses, from a façade, presenting a gen- 
 eral plain surface to the eye. The level battlement, between these 
 two towers, leaves an unoccupied void over the centre of the façade, 
 at a place where the eye demands, on the contrary, a solid and 
 dominant point, for the pyramidal form in this position is one of 
 the instinctive desires of the eye, because it is this which indicates 
 perfect stability. After elevating these two towers thus suddenly 
 from the almost square mass of construction below, the architect 
 found it necessary to unite them above the main cornice, by a 
 high open arcade or gallery, which, like the gallery below, passes 
 entirely across the front, and is composed of great monostyle col- 
 umns, supporting a rich open tracery, and crowned by a firm, 
 projecting cornice and a balustrade, which serves to suggest the 
 height of a man and to impress upon the mind of the beholder 
 the real height of the arcade. By this artifice, the architect has 
 relieved the abruptness of the transition between the solid and the 
 void. The open gallery, in passing across the void between the 
 two bell-towers, defines itself against the sky and against the gable 
 of the nave roof, which rises behind, and may be seen between the 
 columns of the arcade ; this gallery thus serves to soften the harsh- 
 ness of the lines produced by the void ; it is, as it were, a transition 
 between the solid mass and the sky. In passing in front of the two 
 towers, it remedies the difficulty, to which I have referred, of detach- 
 ing two solid masses from one solid mass, by bewildering the eye 
 in search of the exact point of demarcation. This gallery makes 
 
310 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 of the facade of Notre Dame of Paris a homogeneous whole, instead 
 of a façade surmounted by two separate towers. Forming an open 
 portico between the buttresses and in front of the intermediate bays, 
 this arcade passes around the faces of the buttresses in the form of a 
 tracery laid against them or engaged in the wall. Here is another 
 point where the architect has given evidence of a sure taste and a 
 profound feeling for effect. The unity of the horizontal lines and the 
 general characteristics of the gallery must be maintained across the 
 front of each buttress, but the perpendicular lines and mass of the 
 buttress must not be interrupted, nor must it be thinned or ema- 
 ciated by any decoration, which, by cutting into it, shall destroy 
 its mass. The architect had to bear in mind also that the angles 
 of these buttresses must be kept pure at all hazards, as, in perspec- 
 tive, they were to define themselves in profile against the sky, yet 
 that the balustrade above the gallery must be so managed as to serve 
 as a continuous means of communication around the outside of each 
 tower; while, at the same time, the projecting piers, which were to 
 define the angles of the bell-tower, must be continuous with the but- 
 tresses and must not emerge from the horizontal line of the gallery 
 like an afterthought, having no essential connection with the mass 
 below. To fulfil all these conditions presented difficulties so serious 
 that here evidently was that point of the facade, which, on account 
 of its position and importance, required his especial study. Fig. 61 
 shows how the architect of Notre Dame resolved the difficulties of 
 the problem. 
 
 The monostyle columns of the gallery, when engaged in the face 
 of the buttress, are so treated as to dean the angles of the masonry, 
 if I may be allowed the expression, gratefully relieving its horizontal 
 lines of construction without concealing them ; the open tracery, 
 which is richly decorated in those parts of the gallery between the 
 buttresses, becomes, when it is attached to the face of the buttress, 
 compact and more severe, and participates in its structure ; to pre- 
 pare the eye for the projection of the cornice above, which is bold, in 
 order to afford a passage around the tower by means of the balcony 
 which crowns the cornice, the angle above each corner shaft blossoms 
 out in a sort of vegetation ; and, in fine, to break the harshness of the 
 outline made by this projection of the balustrade from the upright 
 lines of the angle-piers of the tower, and to obtain a feature of transi- 
 tion between the projections and retreats of this profile, animals have 
 
Fig. 61. 
 

THE SPIRES OF NOTRE DAME. 
 
 311 
 
 been sculptured rearing themselves boldly upright on the angles of 
 the balustrade. 
 
 If the façade of Notre Dame of Paris is very beautiful, even in its 
 present unfinished state, it must be seen that everything is so well 
 prepared in the substructure for the superstructure of the stone spires, 
 that their absence is much to be regretted. As at present existing, 
 there is, in the construction and appearance of the towers, a supera- 
 bundant strength which is unjustifiable, since they bear no weight. 
 How appropriate would be the position and character of the angle- 
 piers of the towers and their great windows with their masculine 
 archivolts, how elegant the whole present superstructures, which, in 
 themselves, are too heavy for crowning members, if the two spires 
 arose above them, and fulfilled their splendid promise ! Plate XIV. 
 indicates the completion of this façade, without pretending to present 
 more than the general mass so far as the spires are concerned. In 
 this we can recognize the excellent proportions of the great open gal- 
 lery, which is evidently too high for the towers alone, and, by the 
 emphasis of its perpendicular lines, serves as a preparation for the 
 grand ascent of the spires; the two features were evidently .studied 
 together. The combination presented in this drawing also enables 
 us to appreciate that the crowning of the tower-buttresses at their 
 summits, a crowning apparently feeble and meaningless in the pres- 
 ent unfinished condition of the structure, would in reality be pecul- 
 iarly appropriate and elegant if the design were complete. We can 
 see how gradually the composition passes from the horizontal to the 
 pyramidal line. Cover up the two spires, and it will readily be per- 
 ceived that everything in the present substructure is but a prepara- 
 tion for them. And if from the examination of the general design 
 we pass to the study of the details, every builder will be amazed at 
 the innumerable precautions which have been taken in the con- 
 struction, and at the manner in which the prudence of the prac- 
 tical mechanic has been united to the boldness of the artist, full 
 of resources and imagination. If we examine the profiles and the 
 sculpture, we shall find indications everywhere of a thoroughly 
 understood method, of principles strictly observed, of a perfect 
 knowledge of effect, a purity of style unequalled in modern art, 
 an execution at once delicate and bold, without exaggeration and 
 impressed with all the beauty that serious study and enthusiastic 
 love can confer. 
 
312 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Whence did these artists obtain such inspiration, if not from their 
 own inherent sentiment ? Where else could they have learned this 
 art of producing great effects, who could have taught them these new 
 forms, in what other school than their own hearts could they have 
 acquired this brilliant and perfect comprehension of the management 
 of great masses ? 
 
 There is, moreover, expressed in the façade of Notre Dame of 
 Paris a certain quality peculiar to the architects of France, when 
 France had an architecture truly her own ; this is variety in unity. 
 Thus, at first sight, the grand portals seem symmetrical, but even 
 here this artistic love of variety finds subtle expression ; for the door 
 on the left does not resemble that on the right.* The north tower 
 (that on the left) is sensibly thicker than the south tower, and the 
 tracery of the grand gallery on the left is more masculine and com- 
 pact than that at the other end ; from these facts we are justified in 
 concluding that the two stone spires should present points of con- 
 trast in detail, while they should offer two harmonious and balanced 
 masses in general effect. There is the same evidence here as in other 
 contemporary structures built under a single impulse and without in- 
 terruption, that the architect could not bring himself to repeat the 
 same detail twice. In treating his two towers differently, the in- 
 crease of labor he thus imposed on the workmen was grateful to 
 them, when compared with the mechanical tediousness of producing 
 two such colossal masses identical in every respect. Though such 
 points of difference are often blamed as an offence against absolute 
 symmetry, it cannot be denied that this desire for variety w T as spir- 
 itual, and gave to the workman a liberty of thought which prompted 
 him to a perpetual study for improvement, to an emulation, I may 
 say, which is in singular harmony with the western character. This 
 individuality of thought and labor is exhibited perhaps even in a 
 more marked degree in the fact that, although all the capitals of an 
 order are similar in mass, they vary one from the other. Submit- 
 ting himself to a general rule and keeping within specified limits, 
 each sculptor has expressed his own individual inspiration. 
 
 In conception, Romanesque art was far from attaining the magis- 
 
 * The right door is mainly made up of fragments of sculpture belonging to the twelfth cen- 
 tury. It would seem that, in rebuilding the façade of Notre Dame, the architect wished to 
 preserve in the new structure the most beautiful remains of the old one. (See “Description 
 de Notre-Dame,” par MM. de Guilhermy and Viollet-le-Due, 1856. Bance. 
 
THE CATHOLICITY OF THE ARTS. 
 
 313 
 
 tral grandeur of Notre Dame of Paris ; and, in details, it was still 
 further removed from the perfection of form expressed by the lay 
 artists. The lay school, in fact, may be regarded as a sort of reaction 
 of modern ideas against traditions, a vigorous effort towards a new 
 ideal of civilization, that is, perfect liberty without license. 
 
 But it may be said that the façade of the cathedral of Paris is 
 a unique example in Europe. This may be true ; but an abundance 
 of examples proves nothing, in itself, regarding any question of art. 
 Although there is but one Iliad, it must be acknowledged that, in 
 the domains of art and poetry, there cannot be an entirely isolated 
 and exceptional masterpiece; it must be a recapitulation, an expres- 
 sion of the prevalence of a certain order of ideas. It is one of the 
 privileges of epochs favorable to the arts to be able to group harmo- 
 niously in a single body public sentiments and prevailing ideas. AVe 
 do not know what the lay architects at the commencement of the thir- 
 teenth century would have produced, if they had had the leisure and 
 means to build other monuments as important as the façade of Notre 
 Dame, the only one of that period which, although even now incom- 
 plete, arose almost uninterrupted from a single impulse. At Laon, 
 Senlis, and Amiens, we find contemporaneous architectural concep- 
 tions, which, although mutilated, modified, or incomplete, present in 
 each case especial features of excellence. 
 
 The catholicity of the arts is another and very essential characteris- 
 tic of every favorable epoch ; that is, their application equally to the 
 cottage, to the palace, to the opulent metropolitan cathedral, and to 
 the humble village church. Thus the most modest Greek construc- 
 tion exhales a perfume of art as rvell as the richest temple, and 
 the little houses of Pompeii, built of rubble or brick, are as much 
 works of art as the public monuments of that city. But an epoch 
 which regards art as a mere matter of luxury, an appurtenance of the 
 privileged classes, or an envelope proper only for certain public 
 monuments, may be a well-administered epoch, but it does not pos- 
 sess the highest element of civilization, and perhaps one of the most 
 essential qualities of public tranquillity. There are intellectual en- 
 joyments as well as material enjoyments, and the former, like the 
 latter, when they become exclusive and privileged, create envy and 
 ill feeling. If but a few know how to read, the ignorant crowd, 
 when it chances to get the upper hand, burns books with as much 
 passion as it burns sumptuous chateaus, where all the material pleas- 
 
314 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 lires of life are brought together. If everybody can read, books 
 will accumulate and remain uninsulted upon the library shelves. In 
 the same manner, to make of art a matter of luxury or to associate 
 it only with wealth is dangerous alike for art and for the exclusive 
 few who patronize it. It is important, therefore, to render art 
 catholic, and to restore it to its proper intiuence over all things and 
 its proper place everywhere ; it is important that the minds of 
 all, and of artists more especially, should be penetrated with the 
 truth that art, in architecture, does not consist in the employment 
 of precious marbles or in the accumulation of ornaments, but in 
 distinction of form, in the most graceful and most honest way of 
 doing practical things ; for it costs no more in money, although it 
 may in thought, to cut stones or to lay bricks according to judi- 
 cious principles and with a proper regard for aesthetic proprieties, 
 than to cut and lay them without duly considering the place they are 
 to occupy in the building and the part they are to bear in its general 
 effect. Now the art of the lay school in the thirteenth century was 
 essentially democratic, it was everywhere and in everything ; and the 
 villager had as much right to be proud of his little church, or the 
 country gentleman of his manor-house, as the citizen of his cathedral 
 or the nobleman of his palace. 
 
 It is not enough for the modern architect to admire the works of 
 the past, and merely to copy them is an avowal of impotence ; but 
 he must comprehend them and be so penetrated with their spirit as 
 to be able to obtain from them deductions suited to the present 
 time ; he must see in form only the expression of an idea. A form 
 which admits of no explanation, or which is a mere caprice, cannot 
 be beautiful, and, in architecture, every form which is not inspired 
 by the structure ought therefore to be rejected. Such was the creed 
 and such the invariable practice of the French lay school, especially 
 in its earlier developments, and it is in the most humble buildings 
 that the application of this creed is most evident. 
 
 Let us select an example in one of those little rubble-built monu- 
 ments of Burgundy, in which stone was employed with extreme 
 economy ; let us enter the village church of Montréale.* Here we 
 find nothing superfluous ; the architecture is the construction ; the 
 walls are of rubble, and the piers alone of cut stone : and yet we 
 
 * A little more than six miles from A vallon. The church of Montréale dates from the end 
 of the twelfth century. 
 
I'l.AIV 
 
 THE CATHEDRAL OF PARIS. 
 
 
 COMPLETION OF WEST FRONT. 
 

 
 
THE VILLAGE CHURCH OF MONTRE ALE. 
 
 315 
 
 behold, in this simple edifice, an art full of elegance, and mouldings, 
 which, though rare, are of incomparable beauty and cut with a per- 
 fection equal to that of Greek profiles of the best epoch. The sculp- 
 ture, which is used with extreme economy, is large in treatment, and 
 in harmony with the simplicity of the whole structure. Let us ex- 
 amine in Fig. 02 one of the aisle piers, a column engaged in the wall 
 
 Fig. 62. 
 
 a third of its diameter, bearing the transverse arch A of the vault. 
 In order to stop the longitudinal and diagonal ribs (B and C) of the 
 vault, the architect has corbelled out the pilaster D in profile, and 
 
31G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 crowned it with a continuation of the abacus of the capital of the 
 column ; he felt that if he had built up the pilaster D on a plumb- 
 line dropped from the point E, he would have detracted from the 
 value of his column and would have employed his stone uselessly. 
 This arrangement, suggested thus by sentiment and supported by 
 reason, supplied a motive for decoration. The profile G of the 
 abacus is cut so as to produce strong horizontal lines of light and 
 shade in the interior, where the light is necessarily diffuse, with- 
 out detracting from the solidity of a member which sustains weight. 
 Some of the other piers, as at II, are square, with angles chamfered 
 so as not to interfere with circulation when the building is crowded ; 
 observe how judicious is the composition of the bases of these piers; 
 how happily, from the square plinth, the intermediate plinth I con- 
 ducts to the polygonal section of the shaft ; how finely profiled, yet 
 how solid, the decorated offsets {claws) K of the intermediate plinths 
 preparing for the chamfers above ; and how perfectly the form and 
 the construction agree. When art can express itself with conditions 
 so simple, it must indeed be perfect and full of instruction. 
 
 I should be led far beyond the proper limits of this work were I to 
 undertake to enter into a careful analysis of all the details of the 
 architecture of this period ; but I think it essential to refer to a few, 
 in order that we may comprehend how the architects of the lay school 
 at the beginning of the thirteenth century proceeded when they 
 undertook to adopt new forms. 
 
 Let us consider, for example, the mouldings, which, in architec- 
 ture, have a double importance, being affairs not only of necessity, 
 but of sentiment, — of necessity, in that they should always have 
 a practical duty to perform ; of sentiment, because their form and 
 character should be such as to indicate this duty. When a mould- 
 ing or profile exactly fulfils its function and satisfies the eye with 
 an outline perfectly appropriate to this function, it has style. And 
 every architecture whose profiles answer to these conditions may be 
 safely regarded as a refined, well-developed, and well-studied mani- 
 festation of art. The architecture which, on the contrary, covers 
 its buildings with mouldings used simply as decorative features and 
 not justified by reason either in character or position, wants one of 
 the most essential qualities of style. Now, of all the architectures 
 with which we are familiar, those of the Greek antique and of the 
 lay school of the Middle Ages are the only ones whose mouldings 
 
GREEK AND LATIN MOULDINGS. 
 
 317 
 
 are equally satisfactory to reason and to sentiment. I am sorry to 
 exclude Roman architecture, but it certainly manifested this quality 
 only when it was but a servile imitation of Greek or Etruscan art. 
 The Roman mouldings of the imperial epoch, after Trajan, are mere 
 copies of Greek profiles, becoming daily further and further removed 
 from their originals. As for the mouldings of the Italian or French 
 Renaissance of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, they are but 
 misunderstood traditions of the best antique arts, degenerate types, 
 drawn at hazard by architects, and seen indifferently by the public. 
 The Romans seemed never to attach any great importance to a 
 thing which, for them, was certainly a mere matter of detail more 
 or less happily applied, but quite without any especial significance. 
 During the Romanesque epoch in France, on the other hand, we 
 can see that the architect carefully studied this essential part of his 
 art ; he purified, as it were, the profiles transmitted by the architec- 
 ture of a degraded epoch, but he never abandoned them completely ; 
 we can, in every instance, detect that the Roman types served always 
 as points of departure, never entirely lost sight of ; but towards the 
 close of the twelfth century, the profiles, like the construction and the 
 sculpture, underwent a complete transformation. 
 
 Let us turn to a few examples. We have observed that the 
 Greeks placed bases under their Ionic, but not under their |)oric 
 shafts. Yet there are very ancient examples of the use of this mem- 
 ber in Greece, as in the columns of the frontispiece of the treasury 
 of Atreus at Mycene, where the bases bear a singular resemblance to 
 those used by the Persians and Assyrians. In like manner, the 
 bases of the Ionic order, which is more ancient than the Doric, are 
 evidently Asiatic importations, while the Doric order is indigenous 
 to Greece. But, in appropriating the Ionic, the Greeks, according to 
 their invariable custom, transformed and purified it, without losing 
 sight of its traditional members ; they always refrained from placing 
 at the base of a column any projecting foot or socket which would 
 interfere with the passage of the portico, and so, while they preserved 
 the Ionic base, they studiously rejected the square plinth ; thus, the 
 base of the Ionic order of the Erectheum is circular like the shaft. 
 The bases of the grand portico have this profile (Eig. 63) ; those of 
 the little portico, this (Eig. 64). Profiles so delicate and angles 
 so sharp could only have been executed in marble, and it must be 
 admitted either that the Greek boys were less destructive than ours, 
 
318 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 or else that they were not permitted to approach these porticos, 
 where they would have been most likely to amuse themselves by 
 knocking off the delicate edges. Although these profiles are undeni- 
 ably much more beautiful than their Asiatic prototypes, I must say 
 
 Fig. 63. 
 
 that the fillet A of the base in Fig. 63 seems justifiable to me neither 
 bj r reason nor sentiment. I can only see that the motive of the archi- 
 tect was to obtain a marked shadow under this fillet A, in order 
 to completely detach the upper torus. 
 
 Fig. 64. 
 
 Let us pass by the Roman base of the time of the empire, as used 
 in the Ionic and Corinthian orders, — a base which every one knows, 
 and which rests upon a square plinth whose projecting corners are 
 readily broken under the superincumbent weight, and are of no earthly 
 
ROMANESQUE AND GOTHIC BASES. 
 
 319 
 
 use except to trip up the unwary ; let us pass on to France, where, 
 even as early as the Romanesque epoch, there were bases bearing cer- 
 tain analogies to the Greek protiles, as in Fig. 05, which represents 
 the base of a column of the choir in the church of St. Stephen at 
 Nevers (eleventh century). This base A is circular in plan, and rests 
 upon a plinth B, which is octagonal in plan. The Romanesque 
 architect who designed the profile of this base probably was not ac- 
 quainted with the Erectheum at Athens, though he had perhaps seen 
 the Byzantine profiles which were derived from it ; but it is clear that 
 he instinctively rejected the Roman profiles which were abundant all 
 about him, especially in abandoning the square plinth in favor of 
 bases reposing directly on the pavement. But this example is per- 
 haps one of those experiments of transition through which we cannot 
 
 Fig. 65. 
 
 always trace a method. At the end of the twelfth century, however, 
 we can see that a decided change took place in the outline of this 
 member ; the lower torus was flattened, so as more effectually to grasp 
 the plinth, which had reappeared ; but the angles of this plinth were 
 either hewn off, or four leaf-like scrolls were projected from the lower 
 torus to cover them. (See Fig. 66.) 
 
 Here are presented several profiles of bases belonging to this epoch ; 
 the profile E is from the church of Montréale (Yonne) ; the profile F 
 is from the choir of the church of Vézelay ; the profile G, from the 
 town hall of St. Antonin (Tarn-et-Garonne). The beds or lower 
 joints of the shafts being at K, the congé or outward sweep of the 
 foot of the shaft, as in the Greek examples, is avoided, together Avith 
 the danger of fracture, to which that member is liable when employed ; 
 
320 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 tlie upper toms is detached suddenly from the shaft, and the fillet be- 
 neath it faces upward that it may have its full effect, the whole base 
 
 Fig. 66. 
 
 being below the level of the eye ; the scotia, or hollow moulding, is 
 boldly scooped, but full enough in its outline not to detract from the 
 
GREEK AND LATIN CORNICES. 
 
 321 
 
 solidity of the base, while it completely separates the two tori ; the 
 fillet beneath the scotia is also inclined to present its face to the eye, 
 and the lower torus by its flat slope connects the whole base closely 
 with the plinth, whose projecting corners are consolidated with the 
 lower torus by the claws or appendices, represented in D, which af- 
 fected different forms, usually taken from the vegetable kingdom. It 
 is worth remarking that, in the example G, the upper torus is chan- 
 nelled horizontally like that of the Greek base ; and I would add that 
 all these bases are cut in a hard stone with a precision and purity 
 which our most skilful workmen can hardly equal. Now in Roman 
 architecture, whether an order is placed in a basement and rests di- 
 rectly on the ground, or whether it forms an upper gallery, to be 
 looked up to from below, the base never changes ; while, in all our 
 mediaeval edifices, this feature undergoes essential modifications to 
 suit its position. Thus, if a column is very much elevated above 
 
 Fig. 67. 
 
 the level of the ground or pavement, the members of the base are so 
 modified that the eye, looking from below, can see all its mouldings. 
 (See Fig. 07.) 
 
 Fig. 6S. 
 
 The Greek cornice is always appropriate to its destination, is al- 
 ways used as a crowning member, never as an intermediate string- 
 course, and its upper surface A (Fig. OS) carries a gutter of metal, 
 21 
 
DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 QOO 
 
 O SJ 
 
 under which are two drip mouldings, at A' and at B, to prevent 
 water from running down the face and soiling the stone with its 
 washings. But what shall we think of a Roman cornice, which, with 
 all its appendages, is degraded to the duty of merely separating two 
 stories, a cornice whose upper surface (Fig. 69) receives the rain and 
 snow, and whose profile is so managed that a drop of water, falling 
 at A, is forced to run along all the surfaces between A and B, defil- 
 
 Fig. 69. 
 
 ing them with deposits of dust and washings of dirt, before finding 
 at B a dripping-place where it can at last leave the stone? But the 
 architects of the twelfth century, instead of inserting a cornice be- 
 tween two stories in this manner, used but a simple string-course or 
 moulded band, whose profile was such (Fig. 70) as immediately to 
 reject the rain. 
 
 Fig. 70. 
 
 If they wished to compose an archivolt, a moulding circulating 
 over an arched opening, they took care to make a profile which 
 
GREEK AND GOTHIC BASES. 
 
 323 
 
 should best indicate the power of resistance with which the arch 
 should be provided, without cutting into the stone so deep as really 
 or apparently to weaken its mass. 
 
 Neither Greeks nor Romans ever appeared to have concerned 
 themselves much about economy of material or labor in stone-cut- 
 ting. Every stone, as it conies from the quarry, is practically a paral- 
 lelopipedon ; if, therefore, we wish this stone to have a projection 
 anywhere on its face, the rest of the face must be cut away to leave 
 the desired projection. Thus, in Eig. 71, if we wish to give a facing- 
 stone ( ashlar ) a projecting profile A, we must cut away from the 
 rest of its face the thickness 13 C. This waste of material and labor 
 
 Fig. 71. Fig. 72. 
 
 would be avoided by having the joint at D instead of E. The 
 Greeks, in placing their joint at E, considered, not without reason, 
 that every pier or column should have a firm footing upon the 
 ground, and they so treated their base-mouldings, therefore, as to 
 express this idea of stability, not only by the profiles, but by avoid- 
 ing level joints between their vertical surfaces and their base projec- 
 tions ; this was a consequence of the method of Greek structure, 
 
3.24 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 derived from the simplest laws of statics. But when- the primitive 
 system of stability by post and lintel was replaced, in the twelfth 
 century, by a system of stability obtained by the resultant of oppos- 
 ing forces, by equilibrium, it became useless and even dangerous 
 to give to the base of the supporting members such a projection 
 as should not be fitted to these new conditions of stability. Thus 
 we can readily perceive that when a column had only to carry a 
 weight acting vertically, it was reasonable to project the foot of the 
 monolith to give it a firmer base, as in Tig. 72. But when these 
 columns or piers had to support weights acting obliquely in contrary 
 directions, and thus resolving themselves into a vertical pressure, the 
 theory was never sufficiently certain in practice to obtain an absolute 
 result ; it was always necessary to allow for movements which are 
 likely to take place in every équilibrions system seeking its centre of 
 gravity ; thus, if the mediaeval architects had copied the Greek and 
 Roman base, any inclination of the perpendicular line I K would 
 have resulted in the fracture of the congé L. It was therefore at K', 
 and not at M, that they placed the lower joint or bed of their shafts, 
 thus rendering the gentle sweep K L absurd. So at the end of 
 the twelfth century the modifications represented in Tig. GG were 
 adopted. 
 
 The Romanesque school had already exhibited a marked tendency 
 thus to design mouldings with a view to the necessities of construc- 
 tion ; and in this respect it was in advance of the Roman architecture 
 of the empire, which was very little affected by any such considera- 
 tions. But that which the Romanesque architects evidently under- 
 stood, the lay architects of the twelfth century established in practice 
 and made a law. In composing their mouldings, therefore, they 
 were governed, first, by considerations of position ; second, by a scru- 
 pulous regard for the heights of the courses along which they pro- 
 posed to carry their moulding, if horizontal ; third, by a careful ob- 
 servation of the most economical method of cutting the stone in 
 respect to its mass : that is, losing as little stone and as little labor 
 as was consistent with the effect to be obtained. Thus, a project- 
 ing moulding was never cut on the stone which composed the ashlar 
 facing of the wall. The Roman, on the contrary, as in Tig. 73, 
 receiving the blocks as they were quarried, if he proposed to cut a 
 string-course or level moulding, often traced the profile A on the 
 upper part of the stone, leaving the joints at C C, thus losing the 
 
ARCHITECTURE WITH SMALL STONES. 
 
 325 
 
 mass included in 13. But the architect of the twelfth century (see 
 Fig. 74) occupied the whole height B B of a course of stone with 
 his moulding A, regulating the height by the quantity or importance 
 of the moulding, thus losing the smallest amount of labor and mate- 
 
 Fig. 73. Fig. 74. 
 
 rial in obtaining his effect. This was an absolute rule, and admitted 
 no exception, as may be readily ascertained by examining a few 
 monuments of the era. It is easy to understand that this judicious 
 employment of material is a quality to be seriously regarded. 
 
 When I beheld the basilica of the giants at Agrigentum, and saw 
 that not only the engaged exterior columns, but the interior piers 
 and even the great, caryatides, were built up with low courses of stone 
 having many vertical joints, and that the materials of this structure, 
 in comparison with its colossal dimensions and Titanic character, 
 were little better than rubble and far too small for the size of its 
 features, I could not but think that the Greeks, considering it a para- 
 mount necessity to obtain forms which were conventionally held as 
 beautiful among them, seemed, in this case, to concern themselves 
 little about modifying those forms to suit the nature of the material 
 they had to work with. I am aware that they covered this construc- 
 tion with stucco, in order to conceal the want of harmony between 
 the form and the material ; and, when I place myself at their point of 
 view, I admire what they did, and refrain from blaming them. But 
 when I see an edifice of the twelfth or thirteenth century, in which 
 the architect has known how to obtain beautiful forms by the use of 
 just this kind of material, modifying the former to suit the nature 
 of the latter, my admiration is again aroused and my spirit entirely 
 satisfied. I say to myself, If the Greeks had been aware of the 
 principles which governed this architect, if they had possessed the 
 same practical knowledge, it is probable, as they reasoned like him, 
 they would have been led to do as he did ; but taking their points 
 
326 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 of departure from opposite principles, they have necessarily arrived at 
 different results. I see, among the Greeks, excellent artists, who, in 
 their buildings, sometimes regarded construction (which was very 
 simple in their day and applicable only to the simplest monuments) 
 as a matter of but little importance. But, among the mediaeval 
 architects, I see skilful constructors, forced to combine vast and 
 complicated monuments, who yet knew how, by the simplest means, 
 to create a perfect harmony between their forms and their structure. 
 
 The Greek wished to obtain form and obtained it, as beautiful as 
 it was simple ; his method of construction was also simple, but he 
 made it subordinate to the paramount consideration of form ; nothing 
 could be more logical. The lay architect of the twelfth century, by 
 the force of circumstances, by the modern spirit, by the new require- 
 ments of his time, was constrained to adopt a very delicate and very 
 complicated structure, which he was careful not to conceal ; on the 
 contrary, he sought to explain it by the most natural forms ; again, 
 nothing could be more logical. I agree that the age of Pericles is 
 of greater value to the world than that of Philip Augustus, and that 
 one would be justified in preferring to be a contemporary of Ictinus 
 rather than of Pierre de Corbie; but it is a waste of time to indulge 
 in such regrets or desires ; we cannot shut our eyes to the course of 
 the centuries and all that they have brought with them of new ideas, 
 new requirements, experiments, and discoveries. Strange though it 
 may seem, therefore, to hear it said that, to advance, we must look 
 back twenty centuries, yet, to advance rationally and consistently, 
 we must know the path which has already been trodden, and all the 
 experience which has accumulated on the road. Now, of this experi- 
 ence, that included in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries is the most 
 instructive in the history of art, because it was a part and an expres- 
 sion of a prodigious intellectual movement towards modern ideas, 
 a movement provoked by the lay spirit acting against tradition, seek- 
 ing new means and applying new forms. I would not be understood 
 to say that this school discovered the last and most complete expres- 
 sion of our art. Certainly not ; but it is a storehouse of beautiful 
 ideas, and we cannot progress without resorting to it for informa- 
 tion. But some may say, We admit that the epoch of which you 
 speak was powerful, and made great progress in the arts ; yet did 
 not subsequent centuries continue to progress, and would you have 
 no regard to what has been done since? would you, who say we 
 
PROGRESS IN ART BY RETROSPECTION. 
 
 327 
 
 should not retrograde, wipe out the last six centuries and refer us to 
 an era which has long passed by? To this I would reply that it 
 amounts to nearly the same thing whether we go back six or twenty 
 centuries ; it is not a matter of time, but of the applicability of the 
 experience we are trying to gather to our own progress in art. Those 
 who, in the sixteenth century, thought it necessary to go back to the 
 arts of classic antiquity, instead of developing those of their mediae- 
 val predecessors, had their reasons, which I shall presently endeavor 
 to explain ; but for us to imitate them in this respect, and to perpetu- 
 ate this return to ancient art, is like compelling a young and vigor- 
 ous body to live with corpses, it is to doom it to a living death. We 
 admire the tombs, but we do not live in them. It is one thing to 
 read the works of a dead man, another to be enveloped in his shroud. 
 The question is not whether we shall retrograde to the time of Peri- 
 cles, of Augustus, or of St. Louis, but whether we shall cast our eyes 
 over the past and examine the epochs when art was a living expres- 
 sion of civilization, and evinced an ability to develop new principles ; 
 whether we are to avail ourselves of the treasures of art which have 
 accumulated in history, neglecting no part of them in our investiga- 
 tions, to consider all the principles developed and to fix an artistic, 
 not an antiquarian eye upon those which are true, applicable, and 
 vivifying for all time. 
 
 The Greeks were born under a beautiful sky, free from the fogs 
 and mists which obscure our atmosphere ; they established them- 
 selves in the midst of a country divided by gulfs and by mountains, 
 and rich in materials of marvellous beauty. They adopted that 
 architecture which was best suited to these conditions, and they 
 reached an intellectual development only possible in a little country, 
 and in the midst of societies which were but associations of mer- 
 chants and men of wit ; they perfected the arts as only a nation 
 of intelligent amateurs could do. This result must forever remain 
 the envy and regret of succeeding generations as an unattainable 
 excellence. But, I would ask, what analogies are there between 
 these select societies and our vast Christian nationalities ? As for 
 Greek unity, it was a dream never destined to be realized in an- 
 tiquity. The little societies or municipalities of Greece were only 
 united when compelled by a common danger threatening their exist- 
 ence and their liberty. The danger passed, they resumed their mu- 
 tual quarrels, and these quarrels disturbed the soil of Greece, even 
 
328 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 while its civilization was advancing towards perfection. In the 
 West, on the contrary (and when I speak of the West I refer espe- 
 cially to France), the dominating idea was national unity ; and to 
 the attainment of this end art was one of the most powerful agents ; 
 the character of this art, therefore, deserves to be studied, if it were 
 only for this reason, and if it had no practical application to present 
 uses. That which is admirable in the Roman architecture of the 
 empire is the manifestation it presents of a powerful organization ; 
 but in tins manifestation there were often exhibited a disdain for 
 the forms of art and an evident disregard of the individuality and 
 liberty of the artist. The Greeks, on the contrary, in their best times, 
 always submitted art to a careful criticism for its own sake ; if their 
 buildings were ever intended, like those of the Romans, to be politi- 
 cal or religious manifestations, their art did not stop with the bare 
 accomplishment of this purpose, in giving majesty and grandeur to 
 the masses, but embraced the minutest details ;* and the artist was 
 not considered a mere trifler for devoting time, study, and reason 
 even to a matter so unimportant, apparently, as the cutting of a 
 moulding. We have said that the Romans were skilful administra- 
 tors, men of large ideas, imposing no creeds, and concerning them- 
 selves little about art for its own sake. I cannot but think that 
 there was a certain grandeur in this evident disdain of the Roman 
 for that which belonged to the artist, that which attached the artist 
 to his art as to a religion ; for, if he disdained art, he at least did 
 not persecute it, nor did he modify it with the prejudice or caprice 
 of an amateur : he did not enter into .the question of creeds of any 
 kind, he exacted nothing but respect for his law and submission to 
 his administrative and political system ; little would he sympathize 
 with your concern about adopting this or that form, provided you 
 kept to the practical conditions he imposed upon you ; such matters 
 were your affairs, not his. But art is like religion also in this, that mere 
 toleration is not enough for it ; it requires, lives by sympathy ; and 
 when it exists among people who content themselves with not being 
 hostile to it, who excite it neither by adhesion nor criticism, it must 
 necessarily decline : this explains why art may decline even under a 
 powerful and flourishing empire like that of the Romans up to the 
 time of Constantine. But when a government takes enough interest 
 in art to oppose it or seeks to constrain or even to direct it, it does 
 not become enfeebled if it is in the hands of true artists ; for opposi- 
 
LIBEETY NECESSAEY TO PEOGEESS IN AET. 
 
 329 
 
 tion to the arts, as to religious creeds, kindles and revives them, if 
 their disciples are in earnest. In France, as in Greece, to attempt to 
 ostracize an artist has ever been to increase his influence over the arts 
 of his time. 
 
 If the Romans, in the first century of our era, could establish an 
 official art, no power could effect such a result in France, because of a 
 fortunate tendency to investigation and criticism in art among French- 
 men, and especially among that class of artisans which architects are 
 obliged to use. Architecture has only been brilliant in France when 
 it lias really belonged to artists, and when they have been able to de- 
 velop it without restraint. To every sensible mind, which is aware of 
 the material difficulties which surround the execution of the simplest 
 architectural work, whether on account of the nature of the pro- 
 gramme imposed, the material to be employed, the resources to be 
 used, the space available, etc. ; whether by reason of the conditions 
 of art, proportion, or harmony to be satisfied ; the multiplicity of de- 
 tails involved even in the simplest construction ; the thorough knowl- 
 edge required of the general effects to be obtained by the reunion of 
 materials, cut, fabricated, moulded, forged, or prepared apart in the 
 studio of the sculptor,- — to every sensible mind, I say, aware of all 
 these practical difficulties, it is very evident that, if we would have 
 an architecture, the architect . must be allowed to resolve these diffi- 
 culties in his own way, without the additional embarrassment of a 
 direction vague and tyrannical or an interference capricious and ex- 
 acting/to which he must submit, perhaps, but with natural repug- 
 nance and to the serious detriment of the work in hand. But let it 
 be remembered that the architect, to establish any just claim to the 
 independence essential to the full and effectual exercise of his art, 
 must be so familiar with the practical means of execution as never to 
 be embarrassed by them. Thus, in studying the architecture of the 
 ancients, especially that of Greece, and the French architecture of the 
 best mediaeval epochs, we can easily see that the architects were com- 
 plete masters of all the mechanical and constructive methods then 
 known ; and that, when a new problem was presented, involving new 
 combinations, their professional resources were such that they could 
 meet it by a new application of the immutable principles of their art, 
 without going astray. The Greeks had brought their means of exe- 
 cution to such perfection, they were so sure of their practical knowl- 
 edge, such absolute masters of all their exigencies of construction, that 
 
330 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 their imagination, or, if yon prefer it, their genius, was never fettered 
 by material necessities ; their conception of a work of art was never 
 weakened by doubts as to how it should be executed : we must bear 
 in mind, however, that their mechanical methods were very simple. 
 The lay masters of the Middle Ages, on the contrary, had been led to 
 adopt the most complicated construction, yet without injury to the 
 purity of their artistic conceptions ; and they preserved this liberty 
 of thought and design, because, however complicated their construc- 
 tion, this construction was so thoroughly understood and perfectly 
 reasoned as to be pliable to every possible emergency of design and, 
 properly speaking, in itself to constitute architecture. To conceive 
 and to execute were one and the same thing in this school. But in 
 this nineteenth century we do not proceed in this manner ; it is not 
 rare to meet persons, considered competent judges, or even artists, 
 who believe that a project conceived by an architect can, without 
 losing any of its merit, be put into execution by outside subalterns 
 without any direct supervision of the architect. Now a work of 
 architecture, like every other work of art, is the most intimate asso- 
 ciation and agreement between the conception of it and the manner 
 and means of executing it ; and to suppose that an architect can make 
 a design, which another can execute without his superintendence, is 
 the same as admitting that a musician may be two men, one who 
 composes anti one who arranges the score for the orchestra. The 
 skilful architect, in designing, always has in view the materials 
 he is to employ, their forms and dimensions ; he must appreciate 
 their qualities and nature, and dispose of them accordingly ; he 
 builds up in one day in his mind what it will take years to erect 
 actually ; and the sheet of paper before him already becomes, as it 
 were, a vast constructor’s yard, where masons, stone-cutters, carpen- 
 ters, iron-workers, slaters, joiners, glaziers, sculptors, and painters 
 are plying their vocations to produce an harmonious whole, just as 
 the musician, in composing an opera, hears the various instruments 
 of the orchestra, the choruses, and the voices of the singers. But 
 in order that the public may recognize, in the score of the musician 
 as in the monument of the architect, an original work of art, bearing 
 the impress of personal talent, the musician must have himself writ- 
 ten and arranged all parts of his composition, as the architect must 
 have himself apportioned among all his workmen the various details 
 which compose his monument ; and it is as essential that the musi- 
 
LIBERTY NECESSARY TO PROGRESS IN ART. 
 
 331 
 
 cian himself should direct the rehearsals, so that he may modify his 
 work where experiment may render it necessary, as that the architect 
 should superintend his mechanics and arrange, according to the spirit 
 of his design, the innumerable unforeseen emergencies of execution as 
 they daily arise under the hands of the workmen. 
 
 It should always be remembered as a fact of the utmost impor- 
 tance that, of all the works of man, art is that which suffers most from 
 the least imperfection ; and, to attain anything like perfection in art, 
 two conditions are absolutely necessary : first, a man of genius or, in 
 his absence, a man of talent ; then, to him, perfect liberty to develop 
 this genius or talent, and to use all the natural and acquired re- 
 sources of his mind. In the most glorious epochs of art the neces- 
 sity of these conditions was never questioned. 
 
EIGHTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 ON THE CAUSES OF THE DECLINE OF ARCHITECTURE. — ON SOME OF THE PRINCIPLES OF 
 ARCHITECTURAL COMPOSITION. — ON T1EE RENAISSANCE IN THE AVEST AND ESPECIALLY 
 IN FRANCE. 
 
 architecture is almost as much a science as an art, 
 reason and calculation entering largely into its 
 conceptions, it follows that architectural compo- 
 sition is not only a labor of imagination, but is 
 subject to certain fixed rules which must Tie 
 methodically applied, and to certain practical 
 requirements which are exact and limited.* In this respect, the 
 architect is unlike the painter or the sculptor, with whom execution 
 follows immediately upon conception, without the intervention of any 
 extraneous considerations. Thus, the invention of the architect must 
 be chastened on the one hand by the absolute requirements of his 
 problem, including fixed conditions of expense and site, and, on the 
 other, by the nature of his materials and the manner of using them. 
 All these elements must have their due influence over his design. 
 It would seem, therefore, that to habituate the architectural student 
 to composition, the programme given him to develop should ahvays 
 be accompanied by a statement of the practical obligations to which 
 he would be obliged to submit in the actual execution of the work. 
 
 * If we turn to the word Composition, in the “Dictionnaire d’ Architecture,” of M. Quatre- 
 rnère de Quincy, we shall see that, though the distinguished author does not develop) his defini- 
 tion to the extent we might desire, he presents this remarkable passage : “ N othing is more im- 
 portant for the architect, when he composes, than to keep constantly in view the practical means 
 b}'' which his inventions are to be realized. The necessity of submitting composition to the 
 means of execution should exercise a controlling influence over architectural education from its 
 very beginning. The study of composition should not be confined to imagining upon paper 
 plans which are simply agreeable by the variety or symmetry of their dispositions, and eleva- 
 tions which, by their novelty or by the arrangement of masses and mouldings, shall be pictu- 
 resque. For it often happens that those effects, of which imagination is prodigal in design, 
 either cannot be executed, or, to be executed, would require prodigious expenditure.” 
 
THE FAILURE OF ACADEMIC ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 333 
 
 But architects are not so educated in France. They go through 
 a course of instruction under the protection of the state ; but this 
 course is practically limited to the composition of designs on pro- 
 grammes of requirements, generally of the vaguest character, and 
 often far removed from the habits of modern times ; these pro- 
 grammes are limited by none of those conditions regarding expense, 
 site, materials, and local habits of building, which exercise so tyran- 
 nical a sway over the actual practice of architecture. This course 
 of instruction presents to the pupils only certain forms or styles, 
 more or less well interpreted, of ancient art, to the exclusion of all 
 others ; it is jealous of any bold innovation, based upon the employ- 
 ment of modern means ; it turns in this same circle for a fixed num- 
 ber of years ; and finally, as a supreme recompense for an exact 
 submission to these doctrines, it sends the young architects to Rome 
 or Athens, that they may there for the hundredth time restore the 
 Coliseum or the Parthenon. The practical result of this method of 
 education is the common complaint that architects involve those per- 
 sons or committees who employ them in expenses far beyond their 
 intentions ; that architects do not readily conform to the material 
 exigencies of the work in hand ; that they are preoccupied with the 
 idea of erecting a building which shall rather do themselves honor 
 than fulfil all the conditions imposed by the necessities and habits of 
 the moment ; and, finally, that they continually copy antique styles 
 rather than, by submitting their imagination to modern conditions, 
 seek an architecture which can be appreciated and understood in 
 modern times. Thus we reap what we have sown, for we cannot 
 complain of architects, since we have made them what they are. 
 
 Now, if this is a good method of instruction, we have no reason to 
 regret the result ; but if the result is really unsatisfactory, let us 
 modify the method. It is true that, outside of these strict limits of 
 the Imperial School of Fine Arts, there is perfect liberty ; but, for 
 reasons unnecessary to enumerate here, very few know how to use 
 this liberty, which thus naturally degenerates into license and eccen- 
 tricity. And so, between academical oligarchy on the one hand, 
 and the anarchy resulting from the absence of all method on the 
 other, we look around us in vain for that object of daily desire, a 
 type of art modelled on our own epoch. It is a matter of astonish- 
 ment that, in the midst of such a deplorable state of affairs, architec- 
 ture manages to hold so respectable a place in France ; and this only 
 
334 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 proves that, as a nation, the French have a natural fitness for the 
 study and practice of this art, and that, if they had a true and liberal 
 system of education, instead of a mere initiation or a protectorate 
 such as the Roman patrician exercised towards his client, their archi- 
 tecture might become indeed brilliant and perfect. Art divided 
 among jealous and exclusive schools, holding to formulas and not 
 principles, abandoning the large and generous freedom of reason, or, 
 under pretext of dignity, shutting itself up in an utter dumbness, 
 exacting from its disciples only a boundless submission to doctrine 
 or to the shadow of doctrine, — this is a feature of decline. It is in 
 such epochs that architects seek merely the triumph or predominance 
 of their especial sect, instead of the great and true interests of art, 
 which can only live and progress by constant movement and free 
 discussion, by the refreshment obtained by the introduction of new 
 elements, and, in short, by liberty subordinated to reason. 
 
 With the exception perhaps of the thirteenth century and the 
 reign of Louis XIV., there never has been an epoch in France so 
 distinguished for activity in building as the present. Yet I but echo 
 the common talk when I say that none of the new buildings which 
 fill our cities appear, in design at least, to repose either upon the 
 principles of the great epochs of art, from which they profess to 
 be imitated, or upon new principles which have arisen since.* Built 
 at great cost, profuse and contradictory in their use of material, they 
 are without the harmony of truth, and have nothing in them to indi- 
 cate the necessities or natural tastes of a civilization ; they abound in 
 dim reminiscences of Greek or Roman architecture, - — Roman espe- 
 cially, — and of the Italian or French Renaissance of the sixteenth 
 and seventeenth centuries ; but not even the perfection of the execu- 
 tion nor the beauty of the materials employed can make us overlook 
 the want of ideas and the absence of pliability, unity, and character : 
 qualities which hitherto have belonged to the arts of all epochs, how- 
 
 * It would be unjust, however, not to admit that, among these new buildings, there are some 
 which, in point of art, are remarkable works. 1 would cite, for example, the central markets 
 of Paris, which are harmonious in construction and design, and admirably adapted to the pur- 
 poses for which they were built. If all our monuments were built with the same absolute re- 
 spect for practical requirements and the habits of the people, and indicated their construction as 
 frankly, they would not only have a character appropriate to our epoch, but, as works of art, 
 would be beautiful and comprehensible. Wherever there is this intelligent submission to the 
 necessities of a programme and to the material employed, there must result, in my opinion, a 
 very beautiful edifice. Perhaps, in confining ourselves to these conditions, and never think- 
 ing of making a work of art, we would find the shortest road to those monumental expressions 
 of our civilization which are works of art indeed. 
 

 I’l W. 
 
 
 THE CHATEAU OF BOULOGNE, CALLED MADRID. 
 
 PLAN OF FIRST FLOOR. 
 

 
 
 
 
HOW TO REFORM MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 335 
 
 ever low they may have been classed in history. These deficiencies 
 are sufficiently emphatic to strike even those who are completely 
 ignorant of the theory and practice of art. 
 
 But architecture has not fallen so low that we cannot hope to see 
 it rise again. The evil is not without remedy. We are not hope- 
 lessly reduced to the necessity of copying the Romans very badly, 
 the Greeks very weakly, (for who understands the Greek architec- 
 ture?) the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, the style of Louis XIV., 
 and even the expressionless monuments of the close of the last cen- 
 tury, to return again to the Romans, for the want of another model, 
 and recommence the profitless cycle of imitations. For, above and 
 outside of these various forms of the same art, there are certain im- 
 mutable principles so copious as to be the fountain of styles, so elastic 
 that we can apply them to new requirements as they arise, and thus 
 create new combinations, new forms, new lines, suited to the age 
 of progress in which we live. And these principles are no impene- 
 trable mysteries, accessible only to the elect ; they are catholic and 
 available to all. 
 
 It is high time to look into these principles, and to make use of 
 these elements of new life which are still at our doors ; we must turn 
 aside from the petty interests of schools, and concern ourselves only 
 with the great interests of an art which, when these interests have 
 been observed, has ever proved itself the most apparent expression, 
 the plainest record, of the characteristic civilization of races and 
 nations. We must investigate fearlessly, and examine into the phi- 
 losophy of all the developments of art without regard to the sus- 
 ceptibilities, however respectable, the prejudices, however venerable, 
 with which we may come in contact in our course of examination 
 and experiment. 
 
 Above all, let us guard against contempt of public opinion ; it 
 would be wise rather, as a last resort, to consider public opinion 
 as sovereign and final : for, after all, the monuments which we build 
 are for the public, and it is the public which demands and pays 
 for them. I admit that public opinion should be enlightened, al- 
 though, even now, it does not go so far astray as we are prone to 
 think ; but it is evident, on the other hand, that, so long as we sedu- 
 lously conceal from the profane the principles of art, and make of 
 architecture a sort of freemasonry, a language incomprehensible for 
 the multitude, we may obtain from the multitude the blind respect 
 
33 6 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 which flatters or the indifference which isolates us, but not the sym- 
 pathy which encourages or the appreciation which makes us earnest 
 to deserve. Since the last century, architecture has been a mystery, 
 whose rites (if any) have been veiled from the public ; from this sanc- 
 tuary have issued monuments whose sense or utility not one person 
 out of ten comprehends, but which are accepted because the chiefs 
 of the doctrine have declared them correct and conformed to rules, 
 without ever undertaking to explain these rules, and for a very good 
 reason. If the people, weary of these architectural sphinxes which 
 arc built up before them with their money, ask for an explanation, 
 they are told frankly that they cannot expect to understand such 
 things; that these buildings are erected, not according to common- 
 sense, but according to ancient rules ; that if the public finds them 
 neither beautiful nor commodious, the fault is with the public, and 
 that the guardians of the dogma, who are alone competent to judge, 
 are satisfied, and this should suffice. Strange that, in an age like 
 ours, when every morning new ideas come to light, and everything 
 is discussed, even to the foundations of society, one thing alone, 
 it. would seem, remains immovable, the inexplicable dogma of archi- 
 tecture, guarded by a mysterious Areopagus ! In vain do the voices 
 of the profane from without call for a new architecture, — an archi- 
 tecture for our time and for us, an architecture which can be un- 
 derstood, an architecture conformed to our civic customs. The 
 Areopagus, of course, deigns no reply to such indiscreet clamors ; 
 but closes its gates, and, the louder the noise of the multitude, the 
 blinder the submission it exacts from its neophytes. TV hat then 
 .must be done? where is the remedy? The power, or rather the 
 government, which is not artistic, and which has something else 
 to do besides meddling with discussions on art, prefers to transfer 
 its responsibility to the guardians of doctrines which they themselves 
 have declared the only sound ones, and thus of course everything 
 remains for the best in the best of all possible worlds. “ Besides,” 
 says government, “ where is the touchstone ? The public is not 
 satisfied, you say ; there may be a few grumblers, who protest in 
 this way, or perhaps some journal, whose friends have nothing to 
 build ; but where do you find this complaining public ? As for us, 
 we have heard nothing but praises about these buildings. Are there 
 not always envious people about ? France is an admirable country, 
 the city of Paris is worthy to be its capital ; nowhere will you find 
 
THE APPEAL TO THE PUBLIC. 
 
 337 
 
 a government more enlightened and more loyal to the true interests 
 of the nation ; the Academy of Fine Arts includes the cream of the 
 architects, who have chosen each other, and consequently it is the 
 most liberal of all the institutions in this country of enlightenment 
 and the arts. What reason, then, has the public to complain? ” Of 
 course, to this there is nothing to reply. 
 
 But the manager of a theatre, on the other hand, cannot afford 
 to disregard public opinion, because with him it is a question of 
 receipts ; and if the pit hisses the new comedy it is withdrawn, 
 although it may have received the applause of the most select com- 
 mittee of critics. A bad picture, although surrounded by the high- 
 est patronage, when exhibited, remains a bad picture, and the painter 
 has to keep it for himself. A book, however well puffed, if it wearies 
 its readers, remains on the shelves of the publisher. But if a house 
 is built, and found to be in bad taste, what is to be done? It is 
 rather costly to tear it down. Our only resource is not to look at^ 
 it, and try to forget it. 
 
 In the domain of letters, painting, and sculpture, the appeal to the 
 public is real. There are no middle-men between the work of the 
 artist and the public ; therefore, in these, monopoly or ostracism 
 is impossible. The French academies and the schools of moral sci- 
 ence, of painting and sculpture, could not be exclusive if they would ; 
 for public opinion, whose criticism of literary, historical, or philo- 
 sophical works, or concerning sculpture and painting, is respectable 
 and respected, causes the most venerable academic doors to open, 
 and give entrance to the authors and artists whom it sanctifies with 
 approval. We have lately seen some remarkable examples of this. 
 But with architecture it is quite otherwise. As the architect cannot 
 build a monument in his cabinet, the direct appeal to the judgment 
 of the public is denied him. If he is so unfortunate as not to agree 
 with the opinions of the academic body, however happily arranged 
 his plans and however profound and serious his studies, they are 
 condemned as soon as his building is erected ; as his design has not 
 been made in the atmosphere of the Villa Medici, lie can furnish no 
 recognized proofs of his merit, and his path is crossed by adversaries 
 often sufficiently powerful to oppose an effective veto to his success 
 and his fame. “He who is not with us is against us!” This has 
 ever been the supreme maxim of every organization outside of the 
 control of public opinion. “ The schools are intolerant from convic- 
 22 
 
338 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 tion,” wrote lately one of our brethren. But a body recruiting itself 
 in its own circle, responsible to no one but itself for its instruction, 
 its doctrines, and its judgments, must become exclusive and bigoted. 
 If the wisest and most sincere of men are included among its mem- 
 bers, for the very reason that they are sincere, learned, and in ear- 
 nest, they will use the power of their institution as a Propaganda, 
 and will place a barrier in the way of all those who do not share 
 in their opinions or prejudices. To expect from them any other 
 conduct would almost be to impeach the dignity of their character 
 and the sincerity of their convictions. 
 
 How, then, under these circumstances, can we hope to bring to 
 light principles which are not admitted by the school, forms which 
 the school rejects, investigations and experiments which it considers 
 subversive and dangerous ? How are we to obtain a young and 
 rejuvenated art, the issue of an unprejudiced examination of many 
 opinions, of the tendencies of our civilization, and of the ever- 
 changing requirements of the day P 
 
 Architecture, after all, is but a form given to ideas ; it is, as a 
 poet has said, “ a book of stone.” Taking up the analogy thus sug- 
 gested, let us suppose that the Trench Academy had the will and the 
 power to prevent the publication in any manner of a certain order 
 of new or renewed ideas, and could compel all men of letters to 
 express only a certain number of authorized ideas in formulas of 
 language which were used two centuries ago ; I ask, Could the Acad- 
 emy have any right to complain of the inevitable monotony, the 
 incomprehensibility, the uselessness of literary works? TVould it 
 not be wise, under such a limitation, to read only ancient literature, 
 and to confine all active literary effort to law-papers and mercantile 
 accounts ? 
 
 In Trance, the upper classes have a fondness for art, but the lower 
 classes a passion. So long as this passion exists, art cannot be 
 hopelessly degraded, nor its reformation impossible ; for whenever 
 art is not imposed upon the workman who is actuated by this im- 
 pulse, and does not assume the tone of an unimpeachable dogma, 
 whenever it comes to him as a matter to be discussed, and alloAvs 
 him a certain degree of freedom, ail will at once begin to assume 
 wholesome characteristics of expression. The numerous body of 
 artisans through whose hands all architecture has to pass in its prac- 
 tical development, is an assurance that it is not quite irredeemable so 
 
NEED OE LIBERAL EDUCATION IN ARCHITECTURE. 339 
 
 long as these artisans retain an innate love for art, and so long 
 as clear argument and plain demonstration can refute the hollow 
 though specious phrases so loudly uttered in accordance with the 
 exclusive doctrines of the schools. 
 
 It is a commonly received idea that artists are not positive in char- 
 acter, but are apt to be led away by illusions. I should not think 
 it worth while to dispute this prejudice, were it not that its existence 
 places the reciprocal relation between the artists and the enlight- 
 ened public in an absolutely false light. Artists, and architects above 
 all, are least likely to become visionary, and most likely to become 
 positive, on the contrary, for the simple reason that, with them, every 
 effort of the imagination translates itself immediately into a fact. 
 Every art-idea, to be expressed visibly, requires a form, a practical 
 means, a handicraft of some kind ; this immediately restores to the 
 artist a feeling for reality, and a consciousness of the limits of human 
 power. It is, therefore, no waste of time to reason with artists ; and 
 a school of art, to be a school indeed, and something better than 
 a mere protectorate, whose principal concern is to surround itself 
 with submissive disciples, must be erected upon liberty of discus- 
 sion, upon the unrestricted interchange of ideas, and upon the emu- 
 lation of rival principles manifesting themselves with perfect freedom, 
 but so chastened by opinion as to avoid eccentricity or excess. 
 
 We in France are apt to boast of our superiority over all other 
 nations of Europe as regards art, forgetting that the obscurity with 
 which government allows all questions touching art to be shrouded 
 is accelerating its decline, while in Germany and England there 
 is a liberality of sentiment and a growing enlightenment of public 
 opinion on these points which seriously threaten, not only to overtake 
 us, but to leave us behind. While we, in the absence of a whole- 
 some method of instruction, are doing what we can with our natu- 
 ral aptitude for architectural study, our neighbors are establishing 
 schools, which, far from being exclusive, like ours, are boldly search- 
 ing among all the original arts of the past for the elements of a new 
 style better fitted for modern uses and necessities. While the lau- 
 reates of our schools are shut up in the Villa Medici , the young 
 architects of England and Germany are wandering over France, 
 Italy, and Greece, studying the architectural developments of every 
 country, comparing them, investigating the workshops, and seeking 
 to make themselves familiar with the philosophy of the various revo- 
 
340 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 lutions which have taken place in art. Private associations are form- 
 ing museums of architectural mouldings and copies, all available 
 to the humblest workman.* 
 
 The natural and inevitable deduction from all this is, that, of all 
 the arts in France in this nineteenth century, architecture is in the 
 most favorable condition for a prolonged development of insignifi- 
 cance, unless architectural education shall become more liberal, and 
 the true and vital principles of the art be more widely disseminated. 
 Believing that the only true and healthy architecture of a country 
 is that which everybody in it can understand, discuss, and, to a 
 certain extent, practise, 1 shall endeavor to remove the thick veil 
 which has so long enveloped ours, and made of it a sort of hieratic 
 art founded upon fictitious dogmas, an empty formula of principles, 
 a hieroglyph, which not even the initiated can decipher, for the 
 simple reason that it does not mean anything. 
 
 I remember hearing the celebrated Champollion laugh heartily on 
 examining some drawings brought from Egypt, because the draughts- 
 men, probably finding themselves pressed for time in the midst of 
 the Egyptian sands, had mechanically repeated certain fragments 
 of hieroglyphs as an ornament over the surface of a column, so that, 
 when interpreted, it appeared that “ the joyous-hearted Ra-men-cheper, 
 offspring of the sun, entirely despoiled all the granaries and gardens 
 of the city of Jr at- ton ” thirty-two times in succession, which must 
 have been no easy task. In reproducing the forms of classic architec- 
 ture we have hardly exhibited a higher degree of intelligence. True 
 architectural knowledge does not consist in an exact understanding 
 of the relative proportions of the orders according to the ancients or 
 the modern masters of the Renaissance, in the correct treatment of 
 a moulding, in the conventional relations which exist or are thought 
 to exist between the parts and the whole of an order; it is not 
 bounded by any such precise and artificial limits, but it is based 
 supremely upon reason and common-sense ; it consists in knowing 
 how these qualities should govern architectural forms, and mould 
 
 * It must be admitted, however, that a retrograde movement has lately been made in Eng- 
 land in favor of exclusive doctrines. In a recent discussion the House of Commons decided that 
 the Italian style should be adopted in the new public offices. But when a political body med- 
 dles thus with questions of style, there is no serious danger to be apprehended. A style of art 
 cannot be decreed any more than the stjde of a hat ; and this victory of Lord Palmerston in 
 England will result, probably, in building the new offices in the style of Palladio, but there his 
 influence over art will stop. 
 
THE FOUNDATION OF TRUE STALES. 
 
 341 
 
 them so that they shall become the expression of a civilization, — 
 an expression so direct and frank that the common-sense of the 
 people can sit in judgment upon them and recognize what is good 
 and what bad ; it consists in erecting common-sense into a standard 
 of criticism, which, although not quite infallible nor philosophical 
 enough to explain its instinctive praise or blame, shall be so pre- 
 vailing as to compel the freemasonry of the schools to discuss and 
 defend their dogmas, if they have any, or to state the grounds of 
 their opinions, if any such can be found. It consists, finally, in 
 instituting an investigation so thorough into the philosophy of the 
 development of form in the best periods of art, that any given sched- 
 ule of requirements can be rationally interpreted in the broad light 
 of precedent and according to the most complete understanding of 
 the theory of architectural expression. 
 
 Among all civilized nations, of whatever age, the practical require- 
 ments of the same class of buildings have been, on the whole, nearly 
 identical ; but these requirements have been subject to especial archi- 
 tectural interpretations according to the climate, traditions, manners, 
 customs, tastes, and other local conditions in each case. Thus, for 
 ancient Athenians and for modern Parisians, the requirements for a 
 theatre remain the same as regards the destination of the edifice. In 
 both cases there are required accommodation for numerous spectators 
 so that all may hear and see, a stage, an orchestra for choruses or 
 musicians, waiting-rooms, apartments for actors, corridors for specta- 
 tors, and ready facilities of exit and entrance. But a modern theatre 
 bears very little resemblance to the theatre of Bacchus. And why? 
 It is because, by the side of this programme, indicating only the 
 destination of the edifice, there are other requirements dictated by 
 local manners and customs. Among these, the single fact that, 
 while the scenic representations of the ancients took place in broad 
 daylight, ours are reserved for the night, is itself enough to create 
 between the ancient and the modern edifice an essential difference 
 of construction, interior distribution, and decoration. And if, to 
 these contrasting conditions, we add the thousand details which our 
 theatrical habits have rendered indispensable, such as scenic effect, 
 the machinery of the stage, the division of the auditorium into boxes, 
 etc., there must result an architectural work which has nothing in 
 common with its classic prototype except name. Thus we have 
 a programme presented to satisfy the same necessity at Athens and 
 
342 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 at Paris ; but, because the local habits are different in the two places, 
 two edifices result entirely different in character. We are authorized, 
 therefore, to establish it as a general principle that, in every pro- 
 gramme of requirements, there is a basis of similarity, as the prac- 
 tical wants to be satisfied by building must be nearly the same in all 
 ages of civilization ; but that there is also a distinction of form or 
 style imposed by local and immediate necessities ; that architecture 
 is nothing more than the expression of this distinction of form ; that 
 the usages of society cannot be expected to yield to any fixed archi- 
 tectural dispositions, but that these dispositions must depend upon 
 the usages and vary with the variations of manners and customs. 
 No one, I suppose, will contest this principle. Put certainly, since 
 the beginning of this century, it has not been recognized in practice. 
 
 Now, therefore, as architectural composition must consider, first, 
 the general programme of requirements imposed in each case, and, 
 second, the local habits and conditions in the midst of which we live, 
 it is essential, in order to design intelligently, to have a definite pro- 
 gramme and to be sensitive to the practical requirements of such 
 habits and conditions. A programme imposed in the time of the 
 Roman Empire, like one presented in modern times, must require 
 windows to give light to the interior apartments ; the architecture, 
 which arises to satisfy the conditions of this programme, can in 
 neither case disregard this primary requirement ; yet a Roman win- 
 dow does not and cannot resemble a modern window, because the 
 usages are different in the two cases ; in either case, of course, the 
 window can be nothing else than an aperture in a wall, but the man- 
 ner of contriving, closing, and glazing this window, its treatment, 
 whether it is regarded as a means of admitting light from without 
 inward, or of affording a prospect from within outward, the character 
 of the material with which the aperture is built or framed, and, of the 
 room into which it opens, — all these things must produce very dif- 
 ferent compositions of this feature if the architect is alive to the 
 conditions and requirements of his time. Architecture assumes a 
 distinctive character, and attains its proper rank as an index and type 
 of the civilization to which it belongs, when it is not only the faith- 
 fid interpretation of the programme imposed, but when it is made to 
 assume the forms best and most naturally adapted to the practical 
 requirements of the moment, and suffers all those traditions, however 
 venerable, which interfere with a due regard for the progress ot 
 
ORIGIN OF DIFFERENCE IN STYLES. 
 
 343 
 
 invention and discovery to be laid aside as antiquities. A people, 
 regardless of these conditions, can have no architecture ; with them 
 the architect compiles, but he does not compose. 
 
 The architecture of the Egyptians, that of the Greeks, the Romans, 
 and of the Middle Ages in the West, fulfil these conditions perfectly, 
 and this is why the arts of these countries and times have left ineradi- 
 cable traces in history. Thus the Egyptians, deducing their archi- 
 tectural composition alike from given programmes and from their 
 national customs, obtained a simple and true art. The building, 
 whatever its extent, had but a single axis, all the apartments being 
 en suite. The sentiment of initiation was carried out, not only in 
 the temple, but in the palace, and it was expressed in both by a 
 vestibule, court, or enclosure, covered or uncovered, and by a suc- 
 cession of rooms, through which it was necessary to pass before 
 arriving at the sanctuary, the extreme room, which was almost always 
 the smallest and the most carefully enclosed. The richest decora- 
 tion was reserved for the interior. The exterior presented merely an 
 envelope of simple masses ; the covered walks or porticos opened on 
 the courts, and never on the exterior. In all this we perceive the 
 influence of an essentially theocratic system. But with the Greeks, 
 on the other hand, the monument, however sacred, was made for 
 the public. It did not conceal, it made a display of its richness. 
 Its portico was on the exterior. The mysterious appearance of the 
 Egyptian monument disappeared. It was the edifice of a republic, 
 not of a theocracy. The Greek city had no palaces, but was filled 
 with private houses and temples and a few other public buildings, 
 such as gymnasiums, theatres, and porticos, — monuments which 
 were rather enclosures, open to the sky, than buildings, in the mod- 
 ern acceptation of the word. Again, the Roman architecture of the 
 emperors had an entirely different character. It is true, they bor- 
 rowed their temples from the Greeks and their palaces from Asiatic 
 princes ; but their public buildings, such as amphitheatres, baths, 
 and basilicas, were developed out of their own peculiar requirements 
 and according to their own genius. That which is deserving of 
 especial study in ancient architecture, whether it belongs to the 
 East, to the Greeks, or to the Romans, is the perfect adaptation of its 
 composition to the manners and customs of the people and to their 
 methods of construction. 
 
 In previous Discourses I have dwelt upon the fundamental differ- 
 
344 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ences which made of Greek and Roman architecture two distinct 
 arts, especially as regards construction. The difference between the 
 two architectures is no less marked in regard to composition. The 
 Greek concerned himself little about what we call the plan ; while 
 the Roman, on the contrary, held that the plan, or rather the compo- 
 sition of the plan, was the principal consideration of the architect : 
 the plan was, with him, the literal translation of the programme, and 
 the architecture was made subordinate to it. This was because the 
 Roman was not an artist, and because he naturally devoted himself 
 to the practical and exact fulfilment of the conditions imposed before 
 anything else. In this the Roman has recommended himself to the 
 admiration of all subsequent time ; and if we, in modern times, have 
 ever separated ourselves from the Roman model, it has been because 
 we are by nature more artistic than the Romans, and have been will- 
 ing to sacrifice our material requirements and conveniences to the 
 satisfaction of having a nobler order or of obtaining a more striking 
 architectural effect. 
 
 In the absence of a thorough understanding of principles and of a 
 clear definition of them, we have fallen constantly into the strangest 
 contradictions. Since the seventeenth century, we have professed to 
 imitate the Romans in their architecture, and yet we have instinc- 
 tively allowed purely and abstractly artistic considerations to exercise 
 a too predominating influence over our architectural compositions. 
 Wavering thus between two opposing principles, we have produced 
 works entirely destitute of that spirit of frankness which may be 
 called the only true motive of architecture. It is very hard to be 
 Greek and Roman at the same time. The Greeks sacrificed a good 
 deal to form, but the Romans everything to necessity, to the prac- 
 tical requirements of public or private life. Both methods have their 
 advantages. But to use both at the same time is impossible ; by 
 attempting it, we satisfy neither the sentiment of the Greek nor the 
 reason of the Roman, and must inevitably erect structures without 
 character. 
 
 It is very certain that for us, in the nineteenth century, there 
 is only one true method of architectural composition ; and that is to 
 submit implicitly to all the requirements of the problem given us, 
 and then, avoiding any attempt to force modern necessities to fit 
 antique forms, so to modify those forms, that they shall become the 
 expression and the exponent of the necessities we are called upon to 
 
FORM SUBORDINATE TO NECESSITY. 
 
 345 
 
 accommodate. A form which is truly such an exponent must of 
 necessity be good and lasting ; for all those who have studied 
 architecture for any length of time, without having imbibed too 
 many of the prejudices of the schools, have had occasion to observe 
 that every form which is the unaffected expression of a necessity, 
 even though the necessity is vulgar, has a peculiar charm. 
 
 Every part of a building should, therefore, have a good reason for 
 existing in its particular form and place. We instinctively love 
 to look at a beautiful tree, because all its parts, from the trunk which 
 fastens itself firmly in the ground to the topmost twigs which are 
 lifted up into the air and sunshine, indicate clearly the conditions 
 of life and duration which belong to the whole. But if every part 
 of an edifice must, in the same way, have its share in expressing the 
 necessity which called for its erection, there must exist between those 
 parts the most intimate relations. It is in making up au harmonious 
 whole out of such sympathetic parts, that the artist develops his 
 natural faculties, his talents, and his experience. If, therefore, a 
 varied and precise acquaintance with precedent in all preceding 
 styles of architecture is of assistance to the architect in enabling 
 him to see how others have proceeded before him, it is sometimes 
 a serious embarrassment to him ; it is apt to encumber his imagina- 
 tion with a thousand forms, all, it may be, excellent in themselves, 
 but, in any combination, mutually detrimental, and, not being able 
 to apply them to his purposes without change, he is forced to such 
 compromises, that his design must inevitably lose character. I am 
 far from lamenting that we have this extensive knowledge of prece- 
 dent, but that it is so difficult for the architect to prevent this knowl- 
 edge from becoming his master. The more extensive and exact his 
 archaeological information, and the more sensitive his artistic instinct 
 is to the beautiful features of preceding styles, the more self-denial, 
 firmness, and strength of mind are required to enable him to snb- 
 ordinate this information and sensitiveness to the requirements of the 
 object he has in hand; the more necessary it becomes to submit his 
 entangled mass of recollections to the severe chastisement of a correct 
 principle of architectural design; the more numerous and conflicting 
 the elements of an army, the more strict and decisive must be the 
 discipline, which is to make them all available to the uses of general- 
 ship. Now more than ever before, therefore, in architectural com- 
 position, do we need to become saturated with the broad and true 
 
*3 4 G DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 principles of art, and to class methodically the knowledge of prece- 
 dent which we have acquired. If an architect, in studying out his 
 plan, does not keep constantly in view the entire structure he is to 
 build, if the general arrangement and masses of it do not remain 
 a fixed unity in his mind to direct every line, if he relies upon the 
 resources of his memory and his sketch-book to apply to every part 
 successively an appropriate form, his work, as a whole, will be in- 
 decisive and without unity, character, or frankness ; and if, before 
 arranging his plan, he has adopted in his mind a certain favorite 
 façade or architectural combination, simply because it is his favorite, 
 or if he has been compelled to adopt it by the will of others, his 
 work must be bad. Neglect of those invariable principles which 
 are, as it were, the moral sentiment of art,* the absence of method 
 in study and in the classification of the materials we have accumu- 
 lated out of the past, submission to the fancies of the moment, — 
 these things have filled our cities with monuments approved neither 
 by reason nor taste, however superior in execution and workmanship. 
 If we imitated, not the works of ancient and mediaeval architects, but 
 the spirit with which they usually composed those works, in subject- 
 ing form to reason, according to the supreme law of good taste, we 
 should have a distinctive and characteristic architecture of the nine- 
 teenth century. As it is, so long as we forget this supreme law, we 
 may be decorators more or less skilful and fashionable as we inter- 
 pret well or ill the fancies and vagaries of the day, but we shall not 
 be architects. 
 
 It is very natural that architecture should be simple or compli- 
 cated as the requirements to be satisfied by the architect are simple 
 or complicated. There is no more remarkable characteristic in the 
 architecture of the Greeks than the evidence existing in their plans 
 of the extreme simplicity of their national habits. But no Greek 
 would have undertaken the impossible task of applying this same 
 simplicity of form and plan to the exigencies of such a social state as 
 ours. Now the Romans, although they borrowed these forms from 
 the Greeks, rather interpreted than imitated them, and, their pro- 
 grammes being more complicated, extensive, and varied than those 
 which were satisfied by the Parthenon, the Erectheum, and the thea- 
 tres of Athens, they developed architectural dispositions far more 
 
 * I have, I believe, sufficiently insisted on the value and extent of these principles in preced- 
 ing Discourses ; indeed, they may be summed up in one word, — absolute respect for truth. 
 
ANCIENT STYLES TO BE STUDIED, NOT IMITATED. 347 
 
 elaborate, and involving new questions of construction ; but these 
 Greek forms often embarrassed the Romans, and their modifications 
 of them were apt, as we have seen, to become corruptions. The 
 western mediæval architects, on the other hand, who were almost as 
 practical and much more artistic, finally and conclusively abandoned 
 the Greek forms, thus modified or corrupted by the Romans, to adopt 
 others more in accordance with their resources, manners, and spirit. 
 The investigations of the last twenty years have distinctly proved this. 
 
 Now, if the Greek buildings, whether religious or civil, were 
 erected to meet exigencies too simple and wants too restricted to 
 be applicable to Roman customs ; if the practical requirements to be 
 met by the mediæval architects differed so much from those which 
 had created the architecture of all preceding times that they, in their 
 turn, were constrained to seek new modes of construction and new 
 forms ; and if our modern necessities are so complicated that even 
 the architecture of the Middle Ages cannot be accommodated to 
 them without fundamental changes of form, — by what singular pro- 
 cess of reasoning are we, in our days, led to go back to the architec- 
 tural forms or to the mixture of forms in use among the Romans? 
 How can we, without violence to our habits, apply to our public or 
 private structures the arrangements of plan convenient to the Rome of 
 antiquity? In fact, the more we have occasion to admire the perfect 
 adaptation of Roman architecture to the requirements and the daily 
 manners and customs of the Romans, — manners and customs bear- 
 ing no resemblance to our own, — the more cautiously should we 
 avoid reproducing that architecture in the cities of the nineteenth 
 century. 
 
 Strictly speaking, we can live and be comfortable in a chateau 
 or mansion of the fourteenth century ; but who, in modern days, 
 would like to live in a Roman mansion of the time of the emperors, 
 and where is the sovereign who would be commodiously installed on 
 the Palatine ? It it is profitable to investigate the manner in which 
 anterior civilizations have met their architectural requisitions, it cer- 
 tainly is reasonable for us to avoid imitating any style of architecture 
 which resulted from such requisitions. The method of composition 
 in these styles, and not the composition itself, is what we should seek 
 to apply to our own practice, changing, modifying, and complicating 
 our compositions according as our requirements are changed, modi- 
 fied, or complicated. But according to some systems very recently 
 
348 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 adopted, it would seem that there is a certain type or form, so admi- 
 rable in itself, -that its application to our architecture is a primary 
 condition of architectural beauty, independent of all considerations 
 of truth and reason. In these schools, the needs of our time, the 
 tastes and particular spirit of our country, the individual inspirations 
 of the artist, our materials of construction, our manner of employing 
 such materials, our modern industry and invention, — all these have 
 little to do with architectural composition. But it fortunately hap- 
 pens that considerations of convenience and economy are so impe- 
 rious in the designing and building of our private houses, that this 
 academical regime, which straitens and balances, stiffens and for- 
 malizes, our public structures, lias little comparative influence over 
 domestic architecture, which, notwithstanding the restrictions of 
 municipal law, exhibits, in a commendable degree, a conformity of 
 design to requirements; this is so true, that it is not unusual to see 
 in modern cities, in the midst of private houses perfectly adapted to 
 our uses, new public buildings so incomprehensible and foreign in 
 their character that they seem to belong to a civilization entirely dif- 
 ferent from our own. In the greater part of these public structures, 
 architecture, instead of growing directly and naturally out of the 
 practical requirements of such structures, and thus becoming a lan- 
 guage of form by which these requirements are interpreted to the 
 eye, is imposed like a consecrated art, to the composition and form 
 of which is attached a sacred tradition. Let us have independence 
 enough to see that very many of our public monuments seem built, 
 not to satisfy a definite public service, known beforehand and pro- 
 vided for in all the details of the design, but to present to the eye an 
 architectural mass, a decorated screen to fill up a gap in the scenery 
 of the city. No one can say, in the presence of these buildings, that 
 our age has fallen into universal positivism. Our architects select a 
 favorite elevation, and a plan prepared according to academic rules, 
 which are not always rational rules ; they study their walls and deco- 
 rate them accordingly, with columns or pilasters perpendicularly, and 
 cornices or string-courses horizontally ; then, after this mass of stones 
 has been covered, incrusted, or sculptured with a design idealized or 
 imitated, no one knows why, from the antique or the Renaissance, 
 they begin to think of distributing the vast spaces thus enclosed 
 according to those practical requirements which should have been 
 the leading motives and impulses of the composition. Thus, palace, 
 
SACRIFICE OF INTERIOR TO EXTERIOR. 
 
 349 
 
 public office, barrack, ball-room, stable, or museum are indiscrim- 
 inately forced behind the same architectural screen. Then begins 
 the real embarrassment of the architect. Windows must be cut in 
 twain by floors or partitions, stairways must be adapted to gloomy 
 cages, considerable spaces must be lost because no light can be got 
 to them, and useful apartments must be cramped and crowded by 
 the exigencies of the architectural façade; gas must be lighted in 
 broad day in extensive galleries, while closets are inundated with 
 light ; porches must be placed in front of doors which were not pre- 
 pared to receive them, and windows must be lifted with unexpected 
 blinds and shades ; the smaller rooms must be cut in two in height, 
 in order to avoid appearing like wells, and the ceilings of halls must 
 be raised at the expense of the upper stories, that the halls may be 
 restored to agreeable proportions ; passages must be lighted by incon- 
 veniently lowering the height of doors that windows may be inserted 
 above ; in short, people must be compelled to live in rooms without 
 air or light in order to present the public with the pleasing exterior 
 spectacle of a range of monumental galleries. But without speaking 
 of these interior distributions, thus tortured for the greater glory of 
 the exterior architecture, we daily see this exterior architecture en- 
 tirely losing in perspective the charming effects which the architect 
 obtained in his geometrical elevations, because he has not taken into 
 consideration the difference between geometrical and perspective 
 combinations, because he has not dreamed that the shadows he has 
 so skilfully traced upon his drawing at an angle of 45°, and provided 
 for in his design accordingly, would never be projected in reality, 
 and because he lias deceived himself concerning the unhappy effect 
 of his sky-line by veiling the unsightly projections under the light 
 tints of his colored sketches. The architects of antiquity, of the 
 Middle Ages, and even of the Renaissance were certainly not less 
 skilful designers than our own, yet they never allowed themselves to 
 be preoccupied by academical symmetries, or to be led astray by the 
 effects of geometrical drawings ; the former were arranged with a 
 view to the satisfaction of the requirements imposed, and the latter 
 made subordinate to the dispositions of the plan. They evidently 
 never suffered either themselves or their clients to be deceived by 
 specious appearances upon paper. To obtain this degree of enlight- 
 enment, they did not, as we do in the schools, confine their studies 
 to projects of edifices which were never to lie executed ; they habitu- 
 
350 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ated themselves to seeing and comparing ; they applied themselves 
 to practice as well as theory, and never limited their architectural 
 horizon to the walls of one studio or even of one city, though that 
 were Rome itself. 
 
 Certainly we have the means and elements of progress in pro- 
 fusion ; but one thing is wanting, — a true, large, and libéral method 
 of instruction ; a method based, not upon certain corrupted forms, 
 but upon principles ; a method which will teach us to see aright and 
 to profit by all precedents, instead of veiling from our eyes entire 
 epochs of art ; which will seriously consider and provide for every 
 mechanical expedient and discovery in the science of building; which 
 will develop the spirit of youth instead of confining it in that strait- 
 jacket of ancient prejudices which everybody outside of the School 
 of Fine Arts has laid aside and forgotten long ago. 
 
 To make a mystery of architecture, to confine it to certain exclu- 
 sive conventional methods which the uninitiated can neither know 
 nor understand, will, it is true, obtain for the architect a sort of 
 monopoly, which may have its present advantages for him, but which, 
 in the midst of a world of progress and changes, must finally isolate 
 him from the patronage, as it has already from the sympathy, of the 
 public. Already works, formerly confided to architects, are passing 
 into the hands of others, and the acolyte of the architectural myth 
 will soon be left alone with his mystery. In the face of an official 
 school of art, whose system and creed repose on conventionalisms 
 which no one will or can rationally explain, irresponsible specialties 
 are arising which tend every day to destroy the unity of art and 
 to take away from the architect the power of keeping architecture 
 in the path of healthy and intelligent development. A hen the 
 school says, “ Let architecture perish rather than principle,” we 
 ask in vain what this principle is for which the school would make 
 so savage a sacrifice. It cannot define its principle, for it has none. 
 To be a pupil of such a school may be a privilege, but certainly 
 it does not enable one to struggle against the elements which are 
 every day encroaching on the province of architecture, and detracting 
 from its power to become a type of the times in which we live. 
 
 But to return to composition. The first condition of design is to 
 know what we have to do ; to know what we have to do is to have 
 an idea ; and, to express this idea, we must have principles and a 
 form, that is, grammar and language. Now as the grammar of archi- 
 
USE OE PRECEDENT IN DESIGN. 
 
 351 
 
 tecture is properly a mere affair of common-sense, it onglit to be 
 intelligible to everybody. But to be able to understand and use 
 forms, the visible language by which our ideas, when rationally 
 arranged and organized, are to be expressed, requires a long course 
 of theoretical and practical study, and a spark of the sacred fire of 
 inspiration. To design, therefore, we must first regulate our concep- 
 tions according to certain immutable architectural rules, based upon 
 common-sense, and then have in our head and at our fingers’ ends 
 forms pliable to the freest expression of these conceptions. We have 
 no right to expect genius of an architect, but we can require reason, 
 and a form which can be explained and understood. Now, it so 
 happens that in our time, instead of thus basing the first conception 
 of a design upon a common-sense view of the practical requirements 
 to be met and solved by architecture, it has been the custom to be- 
 gin with certain formulas, derived in a greater or less degree from 
 a very ancient style, and to distort and torture the whole archi- 
 tectural idea to meet its rigid exactions. Form is made the law 
 instead of the language of art, as if in literature the idea, which is 
 primary, were made subordinate to certain rules or styles of expres- 
 sion, which are secondary. It is true that a few liberal minds 
 among us have professed eclecticism, and have undertaken to study 
 and use impartially the whole range of architectural precedent, with- 
 out confining themselves to certain eras of art; but, in practice, 
 this liberality has been able to produce only a sort of macaronic 
 language (if I may be allowed the word) whose sense no one can 
 understand. Under such circumstances, however impartial we may 
 endeavor to be, it is very difficult to give to every form and style the 
 place which belongs to it with respect to any architectural idea we 
 have to express. We instinctively select; and selection implies pref- 
 erence, and preference brings us back to exclusion. Fortunately for 
 antique, mediaeval, and Renaissance architects, they were less familiar 
 than we are with the great range of historic precedent, and therefore 
 were free from these embarrassments. They proceeded always from 
 invariable principles ; they organized their ideas according to the 
 practical requirements of their programmes ; and, to express these 
 ideas in architecture, they had a system of forms or a style, ad- 
 mitted in their time, more or less elastic to the uses of expression, 
 but always appropriate to the principles from which they started. 
 They possessed a single language, and we have many. If they con- 
 
352 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 cernecl themselves with anterior forms, these forms were not applied 
 to nse till they had been passed through the crucible of their own 
 time and had been transformed. This fact may be noted at the 
 epoch of the Renaissance, and, later, at the beginning of the seven- 
 teenth century. 
 
 The architects of tlie sixteenth century, who admired the remains 
 of Roman antiquity, and, in good faith, believed themselves to be 
 inspired with a true sympathy for antique forms, used them, by habit 
 and by tradition, with a liberty so complete, and knew so well how 
 to submit them to the necessities of the time, that they transformed, 
 but did not copy them. Antique art was, as it were, a language, 
 which they unconsciously translated, so that, wishing to speak in 
 Latin, they really spoke in good French. Although the influence of 
 antique art may be recognized in this involuntary translation, it only 
 served to give the architecture of that period a peculiar turn and 
 a singularly piquant character. When Ave examine what remains 
 of the châteaux and palaces of the sixteenth century, such as Cham- 
 bord, Madrid, Ecouen, Anet, some parts of the Louvre, etc., we can 
 easily see that, although their architecture evidently grew up under 
 the shadow of Roman antiquity, it was nevertheless quite different 
 from Roman art ; it was a truly French art, holding still to French 
 traditions and in perfect harmony with the spirit and tastes of the 
 time, which reneAved or rather continued an old form and appro- 
 priated it to assist in the development of the national architecture. 
 The same immutable principles of truth which had inspired the de- 
 velopment of ancient and mediaeval architecture governed the art 
 of that epoch, and the forms which the public taste of that time 
 required to be renovated from antiquity were never treated as supe- 
 rior to these principles, but always as subordinate. 
 
 Observe, in illustration of this interesting fact in the history of 
 art, that, both in the civil and religious monuments of the Renais- 
 sance, the composition of plans was modified, not according to an 
 imported fashion, but only in obedience to the neAV requirements 
 of public and domestic life as they arose. Thus the plans ot pal- 
 aces, châteaux, mansions, and churches at that time differed very 
 little from those of the fifteenth century, which, in their turn, were 
 developed naturally and with no forced complications from the dis- 
 positions of the fourteenth and thirteenth. The primary idea in 
 composition, that Avhich dominated all others, Avas ahvays to arrange 
 
STYLE SUBORDINATE TO USE. 
 
 353 
 
 the building according to the exactions of the civil or religious 
 habits of the day. This was the sole motive in the architectural 
 conception, and, to express it, the architect took a foreign style, but 
 modified it honestly to suit the idea. But under Louis XIV., as 
 is shown in the colonnade of the Louvre, the imported style began 
 to be the master of the architect, and his primary idea was to im- 
 itate a Roman Corinthian order, without concerning himself with 
 the reason for so doing, or with the adaptability of the order to the 
 necessities of the building to which it was applied. 
 
 This fashion of reversing architectural composition by making 
 the most direct expression of a practical requirement secondary to 
 the adoption of a style is the most fruitful source of decay in archi- 
 tecture. Experience is proving this in the fact that our monu- 
 ments are daily losing more and more the characteristics of indi- 
 vidual expression, and the power of architecturally manifesting their 
 use or destination. Architectural composition, instead of being a 
 logical deduction from the different elements which ought to make 
 up a building, from the immediate schedule of requirements, from 
 contemporary habits, tastes, traditions, materials, and workmanship, 
 has become little more than an academical formula. This method, 
 based, as it is, not upon a correct feeling and practice of art, but 
 upon a theory which is becoming more and more vague, and which, 
 in its relations to its followers, is an undefined mystery, to be ap- 
 proached by processes, not of discussion, but of initiation, this ar- 
 bitrary protectorate, reared upon blind submission to dogmas, con- 
 ducts architects to isolation from public sympathy, if they yield to it, 
 or, if they contend against it, to the most extravagant fancies. 
 Again, it has the graver disadvantage of making good the arguments 
 of practical minds, which are ready to see in works of art only a ru- 
 inous and useless luxury, interesting only a small portion of society. 
 Indeed, how can we defend the incommodious splendors of most of 
 our public buildings against the criticisms of those who, without dif- 
 ficulty, can show how unreasonable they are, who, without any prac- 
 tical acquaintance with architecture, can plainly see that the style 
 and forms adopted do not agree with the practical uses they are 
 intended to subserve? 
 
 It has already been noticed that a prevailing characteristic of 
 Greek, Roman, and mediaeval architecture was the pliability of style 
 to use, so that, if a Roman private house did not resemble a public 
 
354 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 building, if a temple was always distinguishable from a basilica, a 
 theatre from a palace, there was the same distinction of character 
 between the churches, châteaux, hospitals, town-halls, palaces, and 
 private houses of the Middle Ages. If mediaeval architects admitted 
 symmetry as an appropriate element in monuments, like churches, 
 which had a perfect unity of destination, they excluded it from the 
 chateau, which was but an agglomeration of apartments devoted 
 to various uses, just as in the Roman villa the several pavilions 
 and buildings which composed it were constructed and grouped, 
 not professedly to make a symmetrical architectural composition, but 
 to obtain the most convenient forms and dispositions. Now, with 
 what consistency can modern architects regard that which they con- 
 sider admissible in a Roman villa as bad when developed in the 
 Middle Ages ? How can they praise the architecture of Italy under 
 the emperors for the very qualities which they blame in that of the 
 third race of the French kings ? It is because they have preferred 
 blindly to adopt a ready-made style, presented to them to be learned 
 by heart, rather than a principle, which, to be understood, requires 
 a course of analytical investigation and study, and which, when un- 
 derstood, would free them from the prejudices of schools and sects. 
 They do not like to think that the forms which they have thus 
 committed to memory, as the main end of their education in art, 
 are really but a small part of the knowledge to be acquired before 
 arriving at a thorough understanding of the principles of design. 
 
 I refrain from treating here of the edifices of the Middle Ages, 
 because I have elsewhere explained the manner and theory of 
 their development.* But I propose to consider the condition 
 of art at the moment when it entered upon what we understand 
 as its modern era, and when the influence of mediaeval tradi- 
 tions was still too strong to be shaken off in a day. I propose 
 to examine the buildings of the sixteenth century, when architecture 
 seemed to have reached its highest point in science and workman- 
 ship, when society was undergoing a great moral revolution and 
 breaking free from the last ties which bound it to secular and cler- 
 ical feudalism, and when the revival of ancient learning and the 
 study of the antique were for the first time occupying the attentive 
 and serious consideration of the civilized world. 
 
 When we treat of the history and practice of our art, we find preju- 
 
 * See “Dictionnaire Raissonné de l’Arch. Française du X' au XVI e siècle.” 
 
EARLY FRENCH RENAISSANCE. 
 
 355 
 
 dices to combat at every step ; and here, at the very outset, we en- 
 counter a popular error. It is often said that the French architects 
 of the Renaissance were inspired, at the beginning of the sixteenth 
 century, by the arts of the Italian Renaissance, and even that some 
 of the French monuments of that epoch were the works of Italian 
 masters. The latter notion has been lately refuted in a triumphant 
 manner by M. de la Saussaye, in his “ Notice ” on Chambord, and 
 by M. A. Berty, in Les Grands Architectes de la Renaissance. It 
 is entirely without foundation in fact. As for the former statement, 
 it needs but an intelligent glance at the buildings of the sixteenth 
 century to see that they are Italian neither in plan, style, nor meth- 
 ods of construction, and that French art followed no Italian model. 
 It is important that we should not fall into the common error of 
 dating back the French Renaissance only to the reign of Louis 
 XIV., for even before 1450 it had manifested itself plainly and in 
 a manner which can admit of no doubt regarding its purely French 
 inspiration. Indeed, it would be no easy task to explain the ten- 
 dency of historians to derive our art from foreign nations. There 
 are provinces of France where, even now, all the Gothic monuments 
 are attributed to the English. The cathedral of Cologne, which in 
 fact is but an imitation of those of Amiens and Beauvais, and fifty 
 years later in date, has for a long time been regarded as the pro- 
 totype of Gothic art ; and, finally, it is said very often that the 
 château of Chambord, parts of the Louvre and of Fontainebleau, 
 are due to Italian artists. It is only when we come to the age of 
 Louis XIV. that we are said to have an art which is really French. 
 Now it was precisely at this time that we began to lose our original- 
 ity ; for what said Philibert de l’Orme to his contemporaries of that 
 date ? “ You are always ready to prefer foreign to domestic things. 
 
 Although no country in the world is better or more profusely sup- 
 plied with building materials of every kind than France, most of 
 you find nothing good but what comes from foreign parts and costs 
 very dear. It is a peculiarity of the Frenchmen of our day to set 
 the arts and artists of foreign nations above their own, however 
 excellent and ingenious the latter may be.” 
 
 That which is conventionally styled the Renaissance was not an 
 accidental fact, to be retarded or advanced at will and subject to 
 political events. It was rather a continuation of the Roman organ- 
 ization, than a return to a forgotten system. In order that this 
 
35G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 singular fact in the history of nations may be understood, it is 
 necessary to glance briefly at the strange condition of Europe as the 
 Romans made it. 
 
 In the first century of our era we have observed that the Roman 
 Empire was made up of elements so various that Ave can discover 
 in it no unity either of spirit or race, — nothing but a vast political 
 and administrative organization, established rather to check than to 
 encourage the peculiar tendencies of the nations under its yoke. In 
 fact, after Nero, the rotten empire was only sustained by barbarians, 
 whether by the force of their arms or by the invigorating influence 
 of the elements which they brought to the support of that effete body 
 of which Rome was the centre. Romans, properly speaking, Avere 
 finally the least element of the Roman Empire ; the army, the gen- 
 erals, the senators, and the emperors themselves Avere at this epoch 
 strangers to Rome, and often to Italy itself. I have already pointed 
 out this fact as the explanation why Rome did not possess a fine art, 
 but rather the formulas of a vulgar art daily tending towards de- 
 cline. 
 
 Recent philosophical investigations in Germany, England, and 
 Erance * have accumulated valuable evidence regarding the various 
 and distinctive tendencies of the three great branches of the human 
 race in mental development. But Rome, composed as it AA r as from 
 the beginning of a confused mixture of these races, Avas never able 
 to give to the arts it controlled the clear and definite impulse of a 
 national unity. It Avas content to imitate and collect the arts of 
 Etruria, of the Celto-Tyrrhenic races, of Greece, and of the Semitic 
 nations of Asia, and to submit them to the organization of a power- 
 ful and practical government. Out of this amalgam it succeeded 
 in composing, for the building of edifices of public utility, certain 
 formulas of universal application, which, for the very reason of their 
 universal application, possessed, as regards style, none of those 
 marked qualities which gave character to the arts of Egypt, Asia 
 Minor, Greece, and Etruria. When the German tribes, which had 
 preserved their peculiar characteristics comparatively pure from for- 
 eign elements, ceased, in the fourth century, to guard the frontiers 
 of the empire, and, mingling xvith the barbarous torrent from the 
 
 * See a résumé of these investigations in “ L’Essai sur l’inégalité des Races Humaines,” hy 
 M. A. de Gobineau, Paris, Didot, 1855. AVe cannot too strongly recommend the study of the 
 questions resolved in this remarkable work to architects who are interested in the history of art. 
 
INFLUENCE OF RACE ON STYLES. 
 
 357 
 
 North, precipitated themselves upon the corpse of the Roman body 
 politic, that great political and administrative organization fell, and 
 with it fell the whole system of Roman art, because it was nothing 
 more than a branch of that organization. Now this great irruption, 
 which the colleges call barbarian, but which, as it breathed the 
 breath of a new life into a mere effete and exhausted mass, was in 
 reality a most meritorious act in the eyes of humanity, had, by the 
 intermingling of new elements, overflowing with the principles of life, 
 a peculiar influence over art. Although the Teutons, the Lombards, 
 the Tran les, the Burgundians, and Goths were not artists when they 
 overran Gaul, Italy, and Spain, it is no less certain that they stirred 
 up a wholesome art-movement in the stagnant pool of the Roman 
 Empire. It must lie admitted, however, that, with all the energy 
 of the Arian blood which they infused into the Roman body, the 
 traditional power of Rome was still great enough to cause the 
 Roman monuments to be respected and even imitated by the North- 
 ern conquerors, when they established themselves in the imperial 
 provinces. With the same feeling, Kloclowig proclaimed himself 
 Augustus ; and, before this even, the first barbarous chiefs were, in 
 the eyes of the Roman populations, who instinctively regarded all 
 sovereignty as naturally belonging to the empire, magistrates insti- 
 tuted under the authority of the emperor. 
 
 Now Charlemagne was tilled with the idea of restoring this Roman 
 Empire, and, in the eighth century would fain have forced a Renais- 
 sance which in the fifteenth century established itself without force. 
 But, under Charlemagne, the Arian elements were too fresh and 
 powerful to make this retrograde movement possible; and, after him, 
 with the feudal disintegration of the empire which he established, 
 arose arts which owed but little to the Romans, which developed in 
 a contrary direction, arrived at rare perfection, and always expressed 
 the mixture of Arianism with those Gallo-Roman races, which, in the 
 northern provinces of Trance, where these arts were most fruitful, had 
 hardly lost their Celtic purity. In order to establish a Renaissance 
 at that time, or, in other words, in order to dispose Western Europe 
 to return to the political and administrative ideas of the Romans, it 
 would have been necessary to absorb the element of the white races 
 in the great Roman amalgam ; a process which actually took place in 
 the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. 
 
 In considering the Renaissance, therefore, not in its details, but as 
 
358 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 a great social fact, we must regard it as a continuation of that Roman 
 organization which had been interrupted for several centuries by the 
 abundant energy of the powerful races of the North. Now, in much 
 earlier times, the same races had invaded India, Asia Minor, Egypt, 
 Greece, and, on two separate occasions, Western Europe. By what 
 strange contradiction, then, do we admire the Arians who became 
 Greek and the fathers of Greek art, and treat as barbarians the Ger- 
 man, Erankish, and Scandinavian Arians who, infusing new life into 
 the Roman decline, became the fathers of mediaeval art? I must 
 admit that it was by a peculiarly happy amalgamation of races that 
 the Arian- Greeks, become Semitic, were enabled in antiquity to pro- 
 duce arts superior to any which have been or will ever be. But if 
 the Arian element, as mixed with the Roman, was less pure, and the 
 conditions of amalgamation less favorable for art, it is evident that 
 this infusion of fresh Northern blood revived the sinking power of 
 Western Europe, gave a new force to its social state, and introduced 
 a new form of art. 
 
 If I shall seem to have spoken of the Romans more severely than 
 they deserve, let it be understood that I heartily admire the Roman 
 power, in so far as it was a governing, administrative, and military 
 power ; I have no less admiration for Roman legislation, and espe- 
 cially for the respect which the Romans always exhibited for every- 
 thing clothed in a legal form ; but as regards Roman art, I must be 
 permitted to class it far beneath that of the beautiful civilizations 
 (beautiful in respect to art) of India, Asia, Egypt, and, above all, of 
 Greece. To the Romans was wanting that element of race, with- 
 out which art could assume no original or distinctive form ; they 
 were marvellous builders, nothing more. Everything but the mere 
 construction in Roman monuments is Greek, Etruscan, or Asiatic, 
 not Roman. So in poetry ; there is no real Latin epic, and, what- 
 ever may be said of the beauty of the Æneid, no one will pretend 
 to say that it is a sincere epic poem. It is evident that Virgil did 
 not believe a single word he wrote, no more than the Roman ar- 
 chitect of the time of Augustus believed in the orders as forms con- 
 secrated to Diana or Apollo. But Homer, or, if you prefer it, the 
 reciters of the songs of the Iliad, firmly believed in their heroes and 
 identified themselves with them ; the Iliad, therefore, profoundly 
 moved all Greek listeners when they heard it for the first time, 
 and so long as there remains a thinking being in the world, it will 
 
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 THE CHÂTEAU OF BOULOGNE, CALLED MADRID. 
 
 PART OF PRINCIPAL ELEVATION- 
 

 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 
THE A THAN ELEMENT IN ARCHITECTURE. 359 
 
 continue to be the most lifelike, most sympathetic, most beautiful, 
 most sincere and noble expression of die emotions of the human 
 heart. In the Middle Ages, also, so much depreciated by all the 
 indiscriminate admirers of the Romans, we shall find, as well in the 
 plastic arts as in poetry, some rays of this Arian genius of the Greeks. 
 Thus the “ Song of Roland,” which dates from the eleventh century, 
 compared with the romances of the thirteenth and fourteenth cen- 
 turies, is as Homer to Virgil ; it is a sincere epic, not a mere work 
 of genius ; a fragmentary poem, it is true, and expressed in imperfect 
 language, but one which, in grandeur of sentiment, nobility of thought, 
 and knowledge of the human heart, can often bear comparison with 
 the very best passages of the Iliad. But the men who sang and 
 listened to this song were certainly no descendants of the Latin races. 
 In respect to human dignity, in respect to art, they were infinitely 
 superior to those races, especially if we compare them with the last 
 Romans who passed their time in writing treatises on grammar, lipo- 
 graimnatic poems, epigrams, madrigals, and all the petty fancies 
 which were so much in vogue during the decline of the empire. So 
 also the western monuments of the twelfth century, notwithstanding 
 the rudeness of their structure and even the practical ignorance of 
 the artists, exhibit a sincerity, a feeling for truth, a rigidity of princi- 
 ples, a choice of form, far superior to that degenerate, weak, uniform, 
 vulgar art which covered the Latin soil during the second and third 
 centuries. Assuredly, the idea of borrowing such an effete art could 
 never have entered the minds of men who were much better adapted 
 to develop true art than the Romans ever were, even at the moment 
 of their greatest splendor. Although less polished than were the 
 Latins of the Decline of the Empire, they could not but be amazed 
 and delighted in the presence of the prodigious remains of Roman 
 power ; but, by the very character of the Gothic blood that ran in 
 their veins, they were forbidden to imitate them. 
 
 The first step towards a return to Latin arts was made by the great 
 revolution at the end of the twelfth century, when, as related in the 
 preceding Discourse, the domain of the arts passed into the hands of 
 the lay architects, that is, into the hands of Gallo-Roman races, some- 
 what modified by the Arian element. Although the architecture of 
 that epoch had no relations with Roman architecture, either in struc- 
 ture or form ; although the modern analytic and scientific spirit it 
 exhibited replaced the depraved Latin traditions as well as the poetic 
 
300 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 conceptions of the twelfth century ; yet the lay architecture of the 
 thirteenth century foreshadowed the fatal fall into the deep grooves 
 of Roman discipline and formalism. Nevertheless, the Renaissance, 
 and the French Renaissance especially, preserved enough of the ele- 
 ments which, had constituted the splendor and originality of mediaeval 
 art to enable it still to maintain an important place in the history of 
 "YV estera Europe. It developed under favorable conditions which 
 can never occur again ; but, while insisting upon the increasing vul- 
 garity of modern art, it is no less our duty to do all we can to arrest 
 it in its decline, and to ascertain if there are not yet some new paths 
 left into which it can be diverted. 
 
 The task I have taken upon myself is, I admit, an ungrateful one ; 
 and I would much prefer to share in the happy faith of those who 
 firmly believe that the art of architecture is in the path of progress, 
 and that, from the state of uncertainty and transition in which we 
 are, there can be born, as happened in certain epochs of antiquity, - — 
 in the thirteenth century and in the sixteenth,- — an original and new 
 art, perfectly adapted to our civilization ; but without pretending to 
 state definitely that this new birth cannot take place, I trust I may 
 be allowed to doubt it and to give the reasons why I doubt. 
 
 Architecture has been brilliant in ancient and modern history only 
 when resulting from certain social shocks occasioned by the amalgama- 
 tion or antagonism of races, an amalgamation or antagonism which has 
 a powerful influence over all intellectual effort. I do not see that we 
 are living under any such favorable conditions. We possess confused 
 or poorly appreciated traditions, which no one believes, inexhaustible 
 means of execution and powerful industrial resources ; but to direct 
 these means, to employ these resources, what have we ? Denial or 
 neglect of the most simple general laws ; the exclusive spirit of a 
 school or, outside of that, unrestrained fancy ; discussions of rival 
 coteries indifferent to the public ; ostracism of such individualities 
 as may attempt to tread the correct path of architectural progress ; 
 divisions among the imitators of the past, quarrelling about formu- 
 las, but no effort to unite on the broad field of principles. But 
 beneath this turmoil in the republic of the arts, we can see a certain 
 patient labor, a conscientious analytical study of the works of our 
 forefathers, the basis of a new doctrine founded upon the most rig- 
 orous principles, not upon tradition, and analogous to the move- 
 ment which released art from the seclusion of the convents in the 
 
À NEW STYLE IMPRACTICABLE. 
 
 301 
 
 twelfth century to place it in the hands of laymen ; but what chance 
 has this intelligent democracy , in its efforts to emancipate itself, of 
 obtaining the same support and encouragement that our ancestors 
 had under the same circumstances? Are the times favorable for a 
 similar happy issue out of their efforts ? Does the public, whose 
 sensitiveness to art is blunted, have an energetic sympathy in the 
 movement? Have we not, in fine, reached a period in the history 
 of art bearing some resemblance to that state of society at Byzantium, 
 when the schools disputed while the barbarians were battering at 
 the gates ? 
 
 In all questions touching the domain of intelligence there must 
 ever be a struggle between the conservatism which holds to traditions 
 and the reform which would innovate and change. The lay school 
 of the twelfth century had energy enough and was loyal enough to 
 its principles to be able in a few years to substitute for the expir- 
 ing traditions of the monasteries an art which had grown up in its 
 own bosom, and, adopting an eminently flexible form, lent itself 
 readily to all the uses and transformations of society. But this art, 
 the issue of the intellectual emancipation of the laborious classes of 
 cities, eminently democratic in its character, establishing investigation 
 and reason in the place of theocratic tendencies, soon fell into abuse 
 of its own principles ; for the very reason that it was democratic, it 
 could not correct and restrain itself; from deductions to deductions 
 it at length arrived at a mere geometrical formula, till, at the end of 
 the fourteenth century, it reached the last limits to which its princi- 
 ples could be carried ; and then there was but one resort left for 
 architecture, to precipitate itself into those paths which had been so 
 long abandoned by the Gallo-Roman races.* 
 
 The Trench architects of the Renaissance are worthy of all praise 
 because, although reviving the forms of Roman antiquity, they still 
 
 * Everything relating to the history of art in France is so confused, that we find the defenders 
 of democratic principles condemning that which we call Gothic art as a reflection of feudalism. 
 Now the men of the seventeenth century, and Louis XIV. at their head, were much more con- 
 sistent when they manifested a dislike for this art. But it is strange to see liberals, the adver- 
 saries of despotism and jn’ivilege, using, in this respect, the same arguments as the great king. 
 As art, in its natural growth, is one of the most energetic manifestations of the spirit and aspira- 
 tions of the people, Louis XIV. was quite consistent in seeking to crush mediæval architecture 
 under his pseudo-Boman monuments ; but, on the contrary, those who advocate democratic 
 principles, freedom of speech and thought, are certainly not consistent in remaining blind to the 
 fact that mediæval architecture is pliant to all the transformations of free society, and encourages 
 that judicious employment of material, means, and forces which is now so generally recognized 
 as the final expression of civilization. 
 
302 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 retained their own individuality. Still inspired by the natural prac- 
 tical spirit of the nation, they continued to attach great importance to 
 the material and means at their disposal, to the exigencies of contem- 
 porary custom, to traditions, to the influences of climate, and to the 
 convenience of those for whom they built. Not only the monuments 
 of this time, but the treatises, especially the Traité sur T Architecture 
 of Philibert de l’Orme, prove to us how faithful they were to these 
 principles. De l’Orme, in his book," lays especial emphasis on the 
 conduct of works, on the information necessary to the architect and 
 the liberty he should have in designing, upon the proper employ- 
 ment and selection of materials and the arrangement of plans with 
 regard to aspect, salubrity, and the comforts of life, with practical 
 advice to those proposing to build. “ I think it would be well for all 
 architects,” said he, “ to concern themselves less with the ornaments 
 and proportions of columns and façades, when they build houses, and 
 more with those beautiful rules of nature touching the convenience, 
 customs, and profit of the inhabitants ; for decorations and enrich- 
 ments are made only to gratify the eye, and add nothing to the health 
 and comfort of mankind. Pray observe that, for the want of proper 
 arrangements, dispositions, and accommodations in a house, its oc- 
 cupants are made sick in body and mind, and subject to all sorts of 
 discomforts and inconveniences, which they often cannot account 
 for.” What could we say better than this ? 
 
 Philibert de l’Orme, together with his mediaeval brethren, regarded 
 the disposition of buildings with reference to the points of the com- 
 pass as one of the first conditions of composition, and it is to the 
 faithful observance of this principle that are due most of the irregu- 
 larities and picturesqueness for which the châteaux or palaces of the 
 Middle Ages are distinguished. Their builders were not unmindful 
 of the traditions of antiquity in regard to this point of site, and even 
 in regard to symmetry, for it would be a mistake to suppose that they 
 systematically disregarded ancient precedent in this respect. Sym- 
 metry is a natural desire of the eye, a desire which requires to be 
 satisfied, if it is not at the expense of the positive necessities ol life. 
 Yet it is certain that the mediaeval architects did not have the same 
 ideas about symmetry that were prevalent in antiquity ; they aimed 
 rather to obtain a balance of masses and details, than their identical 
 repetition. 
 
 * “L’Architecture” of Philibert de l’Orme ; Paris, 1576. 
 
SYMMETRY AND BALANCE. 
 
 363 
 
 I consider it essential to explain these two systems as clearly as I 
 can. They each of them have their advantages and, when not applied 
 intelligently, their disadvantages. It has already been stated that the 
 Greeks, while they submitted each separate building to the rules of 
 symmetry, never considered it necessary to apply the same rules to 
 the grouping of their buildings, especially when these buildings were 
 devoted to different purposes. They used the same liberty in their 
 private houses, which were composed of an agglomeration of distinct 
 compositions arranged, as a whole, without regard to symmetry. The 
 Romans also admitted this wise principle, and their palaces and dwell- 
 ings presented suites of rooms separately symmetrical, but, in combi- 
 nation, composed only with regard to convenience. Profiting by the 
 “ lay of the land,” they occupied it with plans skilfully fitted together ; ^ 
 but the modern idea of including all the offices and dependencies of 
 the household in an envelope of uniform aspect, for the sake of what 
 is called architectural effect, never occurred to them. 
 
 Thus the Palace of the Cæsars ou the Palatine at Rome had the 
 air, within and without, of a monumental city, of a group of palaces, 
 not of a palatial unity as we understand it to-day. The same may be 
 said of the imperial seats at Spalatro, Palmyra, etc. The perspective 
 views of domestic architecture presented in antique paintings always 
 exhibit a very irregular combination of regular buildings ; and we 
 cannot find in all antiquity, especially among the Greeks, any such 
 architectural dispositions as we see at Versailles or the Louvre, at 
 the Place Vendôme or in the Place Louis XV., with the buildings 
 of the Garde-Meuble, the Rue Royale, and the Madeleine. The 
 plan of ancient Rome nowhere exhibits such balanced compositions 
 of public establishments. The houses were symmetrical only as 
 regarded themselves, and so far as the practical necessities they met 
 and the shape of the land they occupied admitted. Submitting 
 themselves to the same principle in their elevations, the Romans had 
 a separate building for every separate office or dependency of domes- 
 tic or official life ; this building was complete in itself, had its own 
 order, its own roof, and the height most convenient for its own desti- 
 nation, without any compromise for the sake of the other buildings 
 with which they might be connected ; Roman architecture never com- 
 bined these various dependencies under the same roof, in order to 
 obtain an exterior effect of uniformity, as in the case of the Louvre. 
 
 AA hen, therefore, we include under the same architectural envelope" 
 
3G4 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 all the appurtenances of a great establishment, such as halls, private 
 apartments, staircases, vestibules, ball-rooms, reception-rooms, chapels, 
 galleries, offices, libraries, or museums, we must not suppose that we 
 are really following the traditions of antiquity. On the contrary, in 
 so doing, we are disregarding these traditions much more than did 
 the mediaeval architects. I am not arguing about this matter ; I 
 am simply stating facts which every one can verify for himself. A 
 Roman palace, like a royal abode of our own days, which required 
 great halls of audience and ready methods of communication, as well 
 as public and private offices and habitable apartments, giving accom- 
 modation for all the uses of state and for all the comforts of domestic 
 life, presented a programme much too distinct in its component parts 
 to be included under any uniform façade, or expressed by any bal- 
 anced masses, without inconvenience or violence to some of its most 
 essential conditions. If we imagine that, in submitting all our archi- 
 tecture since the seventeenth century to this Procrustean process in 
 order to obtain symmetry, we have been developing a real Renais- 
 sance of ancient traditions, we are mistaken ; or if we think that, in 
 so doing, we have made an innovation which is a mark of progress 
 in advance of all anterior arts, we are very much mistaken. A e 
 must not forget, however, that the Romans, as well as the Greeks, 
 always evinced a love for symmetry or balance of parts. Thus, if 
 they built a temple or a room, it was perfectly symmetrical within 
 and without ; if they constructed an atrium, a xystum, a basilica, 
 the principal axis divided the whole composition into two identi- 
 cal masses, as far as practicable. The same principle was made good 
 in details ; all the capitals of the same order were exactly alike, as 
 well as all the modillions of a cornice. But in this respect we see 
 the first line of demarcation between antiquity and the Middle Ages ; 
 and if, in the château of the fourteenth century as in the antique 
 villa, the various dependencies affected forms appropriate to their 
 several destinations, the architectural details were infinitely varied in 
 each order of the château, while, in the villa, each order was sub- 
 mitted in itself to the strictest uniformity of parts. 
 
 But we should not deceive ourselves with respect to the effect of 
 this uniformity of details in antique architecture ; it is much less 
 grand and imposing than we are led to suppose. We should not 
 place too implicit faith in the designs for the restoration of ancient 
 monuments ; in such speculative works we are very apt, in case of 
 
FIDELITY TO STRUCTURE IN DESIGN. 
 
 303 
 
 doubt, to lean towards absolute symmetry ; whereas, in my own 
 experience, I have often been very much surprised, when examining 
 the ancient monuments of Italy and France, to find notable irregular- 
 ities just where these theoretical restorations have indicated a condi- 
 tion of perfect symmetry ; and these irregularities, so far from being, 
 in every instance, the consequence of an unavoidable necessity of 
 site, often seemed rather a concession to a detail of the programme, 
 or to a fancy of the artist. In fact, the absolute symmetry of archi- 
 tectural combinations, as we understand it, was not known to the 
 Romans ; a symmetry of details, which, however, we adopt in a much 
 more absolute fashion than they, did exist among them, but with a 
 certain liberty which the academic school rejects as inadmissible. 
 Now this academical decision is a great comfort to modern archi- 
 tects ; for it is pleasant to think, when you have composed a capital or 
 the end of a frieze in one day, you have only to let the stone-cutters 
 reproduce your composition twelve hundred times in three months. 
 The uneasy spirits, who would change such a charming state of 
 things, are certainly great nuisances. Indolent routine is a sover- 
 eign, powerful in the multitude of its subjects, and has plenty of 
 advocates ; so it is folly to struggle against it. 
 
 One of the first conditions of composition among the Romans was 
 fidelity to the nature of the construction employed. The different 
 requirements of a vaulted construction and of a construction covered 
 by a timber roof were recognized from the beginning. Thus, if we 
 examine the plans of the baths of Antoninus Caracalla or of Dio- 
 clesian, we can not only comprehend the fact that these structures 
 were composed of large and small rooms, all vaulted, but can even 
 give the form and structure of each vault ; and, in the same manner, 
 it needs but a glance at the plan of the Ulpian basilica to be assured 
 that it Avas covered by an open timber roof. To this extent did the 
 mode of construction influence the architectural compositions of the 
 Romans. More than this, the destination of an edifice, and of 
 all its parts separately, imposed upon them certain dimensions and 
 forms, whether as regarded surface or height. This is evident, not 
 only in their baths and palaces, but in their simplest and most vul- 
 gar edifices. We observe the same correct tendencies in mediaeval 
 buildings, although different in form and construction. In both cases 
 the structure and the object of the building were recognized in the 
 plan ; the plan governed the whole ; here was the supreme effort of 
 
3GG 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 the architect, for, in making his plan, he had really conceived his 
 whole design, and all the subsequent work, the arrangement of the 
 details, was comparatively easy and amusing. What especially rec- 
 ommends itself in Roman and in good mediaeval monuments is the 
 frankness with which all the conditions and expedients of building 
 were accepted and confessed in the design, the sincerity with which 
 all the details were subordinated to, and made component parts of, the 
 general conception, the clearness of the conception from the begin- 
 ning, and the honesty with which the science of the practitioner or 
 the genius of the artist developed this conception into a perfect ful- 
 filment. 
 
 Even so early as the beginning of the fifteenth century, science 
 began to take the place of the individual genius of the artist ; the 
 methods in the composition of general designs and details began to 
 be circumscribed by geometrical formulas, very ingenious, indeed, 
 but tending to supplant the artist by the practitioner. It was at 
 this moment that, on the banks of the Loire and in Valois, the pow- 
 erful dukes of Orleans became the protectors of a new school of art, 
 which attempted gradually to SAveep aAvay the accustomed forms and 
 characteristics of Gothic art. Thus, in 1440, the Renaissance first 
 made its appearance, and buildings began to be covered with a neAV 
 envelope ; the basis of design remained the same, the essence of com- 
 position was not modified, but still remained the true expression of 
 contemporaneous manners and traditions. But the form AA^as changed. 
 This movement received a powerful impulse when one of the mem- 
 bers of this illustrious branch of Valois, Louis XII., ascended the 
 throne. But if architecture then assumed a new aspect, if it freely 
 borrowed forms and motives from antiquity, its structure as Avell as its 
 composition remained French, and reflected the political and social 
 conditions of the time. Under Francis I. even, although the Gothic 
 form had disappeared, the basis of design Avas hardly modified. 
 Chambord Avas still, in plan, a mediaeval château ; the abbey of 
 Thélême, conceived and described by Rabelais, Avas yet Gothic ; and 
 the château of Boulogne, called Madrid, which at that time seemed 
 a bold innovation, bore no resemblance either to a Roman villa or to 
 an Italian palace of the sixteenth century. This château may be 
 regarded as the first example of a mixed taste, holding, on the one 
 side, to mediæval traditions, and, on the other, yielding to the require- 
 ments of a court which Avas ambitious to lay aside the customs of the 
 
THE CHATEAU OF BOULOGNE (MADRID). 
 
 3G7 
 
 past. Yet, so strong is the prejudice which would attribute the 
 buildings of the French Renaissance to Italian artists, that a learned 
 writer, profoundly versed in the study of the arts of the Renaissance, 
 M. le Comte de Laborde, seems to believe that the conception of the 
 château of Boulogne is due to the celebrated Italian potter, Della 
 Robbia. At the same time, M. le Comte de Laborde, like a scrupu- 
 lous historian, does not entirely efface the name of the master-mason , 
 Pierre Gadier ; but in this case, as in all others, quite arbitrarily, in 
 my opinion, he classes the French artist in the second rank. This is 
 what he says about the construction of this château : — 
 
 “ Jerome Della Robbia was the creative artist, the man of genius 
 and taste [we shall presently see that this is a gratuitous supposi- 
 tion] ; while Pierre Gadier, the master-mason, the submissive work- 
 man, [and why submissive ?] was the real builder ; and if, in this 
 association of two men so variously endowed, art was on one side and 
 the craft on the other, it is yet possible to understand and define the 
 compromise which was established between them. J. Della Robbia, 
 in the independence of his imagination, gave to the arcades of his 
 two stories an uninterrupted line, and to his apartments a communi- 
 cation by means of a grand staircase ; Pierre Gadier, on the contrary, 
 cut this façade, two hundred and sixty feet long, into three parts by 
 means of pavilions, which, rising to the full height of the building, 
 presented to the eye their plain surfaces, as points of repose, relieving 
 the uchness of the decorated parts between, and serving also as cages 
 for numerous winding stairs, reminiscences of the playthings of our 
 mediaeval architects.” * 
 
 After reading this passage, it is evident that the title of master- 
 mason given to Pierre Gadier places him, in the estimation of M. le 
 Comte de Laborde, in the rank of a contractor or of a sort of subor- 
 dinate commissioner. But this title of master-mason was in reality 
 a designation lately given to architects. Thus Pierre Trinqueau, 
 architect of the château of Chambord, as M. de la Saussayef has 
 abundantly proved, had the title of master-mason, and, like Gadier, 
 had “ charge of the conduct of the works.” As for Della Robbia, 
 without diminishing his merit as a potter or as a decorative sculptor, 
 lie could have perfectly seconded Pierre Gadier without interfering 
 with his freedom as an architect. I know not what would have been 
 
 * “ La Renaissance des arts à la cour de France.” 
 
 t Le Château de Chambord,” par L. de la Saussaye. Lyon, 1859. 
 
308 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 the conception of the Italian artist, if he had occupied, in this work, 
 the position which M. de Laborde calls that of the builder,* of whose 
 craft he probably was entirely ignorant ; but the merest glance at the 
 plans and elevations of the chateau of Boulogne proves that the souve- 
 nirs of Italy had no great influence over the idea of that edifice. I 
 should be ready to acknowledge this influence, if any one would name 
 a single Italian palace which appears to be the prototype of this 
 building. There were, indeed, porticos both at Boulogne and in the 
 palaces of Italy ; but this feature had already appeared, not only in 
 French chateaux of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, but in build- 
 ings of every age and country. Moreover, these potters were never 
 employed to decorate an entire façade in Italy; we owe this new 
 application of a foreign art to Francis I. or to his humble master- 
 mason. It is Avorthy of remark that F. Gadier died in 1531, and that 
 Gratien François and subsequently Jean, his son, succeeded Gadier, 
 neither of them Italians. De l’Orme continued the work, and em- 
 ployed Pierre Courtois de Limoges to finish the decoration in faïence. f 
 As for those winding stairs, stigmatized as reminiscences of th c jjl a y- 
 things of the Middle Ages, they proved to be very useful playthings 
 when it was necessary to mount to an upper floor in a restricted space ; 
 it would be much more reasonable to give the name of great playthings 
 to those double winding stairs, ascending one over the other, which 
 occupy a useless place in so many of our old chateaux, and which, 
 by their exaggerated monumental aspect, remind one of those pre- 
 ambles of the poets, announcing in pompous verse beautiful things 
 which they never give us. Roman architecture, which we willingly 
 cite as a model to follow, gave to staircases only a very secondary 
 importance ; and winding stairs were not employed much before the 
 example of Saint-Gilles. Primaticcio, it is true, was charged with 
 the completion of Boulogne, and naturally called to his assistance his 
 countryman Della Robbia, the potter. But, however this may be, 
 and notwithstanding these potters, Boulogne is a French château in 
 plan, elevation, construction, architectural details, and interior arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 The composition of this château deserves therefore to occupy our 
 
 * This distinction, established by one of the most enlightened amateurs of the French arts, 
 between the creative artist and the builder, proves clearly enough how little the art of architec- 
 ture is known and appreciated in our time. 
 
 + See, in the excellent work of M. A. Berty, “ La Renaissance monumentale en France,” the 
 notice of the château of Madrid. 
 
THE CHATEAU OF BOULOGNE (MADRID). 369 
 
 especial attention, inasmuch as it served as a prototype for all those 
 beautiful country-seats of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, so 
 remarkable in France both for their convenience of arrangement and 
 their style of architecture. The château of Boulogne, of which, in 
 Plate XV., we give the plan of the principal floor, had a half-subter- 
 ranean vaulted basement, a first, second, third, and fourth story, and 
 a story under the Mansard roof. At Paris, a northern aspect is bad ; 
 therefore, to avoid this, the architect was careful to plant his chateau 
 so that all its principal façades should in turn face the sun. The 
 principal requirement of a lordly mansion at that time was a great 
 central hall, a place of reunion, accessible to all, with its dais or 
 reserved space for the lord of the manor and his immediate family ; 
 then came independent suites as needed, comprising each a great 
 chamber and a wardrobe, a room corresponding to our modern dress- 
 ing-room and boudoir. There were also required numerous inde- 
 pendent staircases, plaything s, if you please, but playthinys which 
 should enable every member of the household to go in and out of his 
 apartments without observation. These were traditions of the feudal 
 house. 
 
 The plan of the chateau of Madrid conforms exactly to this pro- 
 gramme. At A is the great central hall, with its dependency B, in 
 the middle of which is built the great chimney C, around which a 
 large number of people could gather and be seated. The architect 
 even took the precaution to open a narrow passage behind the chim- 
 ney at D, in order to enable people to pass from one side of the room 
 to the other without incommoding those who were seated about 
 the fireplace, occupying the whole space between it and the great 
 door. A small staircase E, in the thickness of the wall, formed a 
 means ot communication between this room and the one above. At 
 k and I we find eight great chambers, with their eight wardrobes 
 G, each suite being independent, and all having access to the 
 porticos or galleries II, or to the great hall. At I are six staircases 
 ascending the whole height of the building, for the accommodation 
 of the various suites and the porticos or galleries. Moreover, the 
 chambers F' have a common antechamber K. The porticos H be- 
 fore these apartments are so shallow and open as to deprive them 
 ot no air or light, and at the same time they serve as covered cor- 
 ridors to enable people to pass from one part of the house to the other 
 without the necessity of going through the various suites. The por- 
 24 
 
370 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ticos arranged in front and rear of the great hall are, on the contrary, 
 very spacious, add greatly to its attractions, and furnish an ample 
 exterior sheltered promenade. In opening doors and windows in the 
 walls, the architect had regard solely to the convenience of the apart- 
 ments ; and, although he sought to give to the mass of his' building 
 a perfectly symmetrical aspect, he troubled himself little to make the 
 axes of his piers between the windows correspond with those of the 
 columns of the porticos. Nor did he hesitate to open oblique pas- 
 sages giving communication between the porticos or chambers and 
 the staircases or wardrobes at the angles of the building, thus 
 affording ample accommodation for ready circulation and the service 
 of the household. This is a tradition of the feudal castle ; doors, 
 windows, and passages are arranged with a single regard for domestic 
 convenience and comfort, even at the expense of a corner of a room 
 lopped off, a doorway cut obliquely through a wall, or a centre line 
 disarranged. In elevation, the artist remedied this fault of irregu- 
 larity (if fault it be) by arrangements of detail, which furnished him 
 with unexpected and charming motives, although they are of a char- 
 acter perhaps not to be enjoyed by artists devoted to the worship 
 of what is called the academic plan. Two broad staircases descend 
 from the whole width of the porticos on both sides of the main hall 
 to the level of the terrace on which the château is built. This is 
 another tradition of the feudal castle. Now this fashion of disposing 
 a portico before a wall pierced with windows, without manifesting 
 any desire to make the windows appear opposite the openings of the 
 portico, is older than feudalism ; it was common in Greek architec- 
 ture. As all the porticos, excepting those of the central division of 
 the building, are narrow, they need no vaulting, but merely flat 
 panelled ceilings made of stone lintels and a filling in of glazed 
 bricks, thus dispensing with any constructional necessity of having 
 pilasters against the wall to correspond with the columns of the por- 
 ticos. But with the central porticos the case is different, their supe- 
 rior breadth rendering it necessary to throw transverse arches across 
 from the piers to the wall where they are received by pilasters, thus 
 requiring the windows of that part of the building to be disposed 
 opposite the centres of the openings of the porticos. The influence 
 of the Gothic tradition may also be recognized in the angle-pavilions, 
 which flank the façades and give lightness and movement to the 
 masses of construction between. 
 
THE CHATEAU OE BOULOGNE (MADRID). 
 
 371 
 
 In the château of Madrid, therefore, we find the perfect fulfilment 
 of the following essential conditions of a royal lodge of that period : 
 first, an excellent disposition of the building with regard to the 
 points of the compass ; second, a large number of suites of apartments 
 grouped as near as possible to a great central hall of reunion ; third, 
 convenience of service and ready communications ; fourth, rooms 
 which can be placed en suite or kept independent ; fifth, thick walls 
 and deep rooms to obtain coolness in summer and warmth in winter ; 
 sixth, porticos sheltered from the winds by the projection of the 
 angle-pavilions, narrow but with wide openings, so as not to exclude 
 too much light from the windows; seventh, a vaulted and well-lighted 
 basement for offices and kitchens. For a prince like Francis I., this 
 was not a royal residence, like Fontainebleau or Chambord ; it was 
 rather a pavilion, where he could sojourn with a small and select 
 court ; but it was a charming retreat, surrounded by a park about 
 five miles in circumference ; and, with a few modifications of detail, it 
 would still be found in all respects a magnificent château, convenient 
 and comfortable even for modern usages. The story above the one 
 which we have described is nearly identical with it in plan. 
 
 The elevation of this château, of which we give, in Plate XVI. two 
 thirds of one of the principal façades, is a complete and faithful ex- 
 pression of the plan. All the interior dispositions, even to the number 
 and character of the apartments, are plainly written upon the exterior. 
 The general outline is very happy, and the whole architectural mass, 
 enlivened and made brilliant by enamelled terra-cotta or encaustic 
 tiles, inserted in the friezes, in the spandrels between the archivolts, 
 in the pediments of the windows, in the string-courses, and in the 
 upper piers, is, as it were, supported and enclosed by pavilions, pre- 
 senting solid points at the angles. 
 
 Now this château bears no resemblance to ancient Roman archi- 
 tecture, nor does it recall the Italian palaces of the fifteenth and 
 sixteenth centuries, either at Florence, Rome, Venice, Sienna, Brescia, 
 Verona, or Padua ; nor yet is it like a lordly residence of the best 
 feudal times ; but, if its prototype is to be found anywhere, we must 
 seek for it among those old French mansions, so well adapted to 
 the wants of those who built them, but, ruined ,-tnd neglected as they 
 are, now so little known and appreciated. 
 
 If we would realize the character of the more familiar court of 
 Francis L, we shall find it nowhere so plainly expressed as in this 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 372 
 
 château of Boulogne. In the arrangement of its apartments it im- 
 plies brilliant reunions of a select assembly, and yet the complete 
 independence which each member could enjoy at his will. Each 
 guest could leave his apartment and enter the gardens without his 
 absence being noted. This independence may be remarked even in 
 the arrangement of the great central hall, which is repeated in the 
 story above ; for if the sovereign desired to be surrounded by only a 
 small number of his courtiers, he withdrew to the smaller adjoining 
 apartment B, while the other members of the court were left free to 
 enjoy themselves and converse in the principal hall. During the 
 heat of the day the porticos facing the northeast afforded a cool 
 promenade ; or, if the weather was cold, those opening towards the 
 southwest enabled them to exercise in the sunshine ; in both cases, 
 the projections of the narrow pavilions or turrets sheltered the prome- 
 naders from the wind. From these porticos there was easy access to 
 all the rooms of state and private apartments of the household in every 
 story. It is evident, from the ingenuity of these dispositions and 
 their accommodation to especial habits, that a carefully conceived 
 programme of requirements had been imposed upon the architect. 
 
 Fig. 75. 
 
 The scrupulous exactness with which the architect observed all the 
 conditions of tins programme, and yet, although under such restraints, 
 the elasticity and docility of the architecture he employed, and his 
 individual independence in employing it, are matters which deserve 
 our especial study. 
 
CHÂTEAUX OE CHAMBORD AND LA MUETTE. 
 
 373 
 
 The château of Chambord (Fig. 75, scale one demi-millimètre to 
 the mètre) presents an analogous plan, although on a much larger 
 scale and under conditions more monumental : a grand central hall 
 or corps-de-garde in the form of a cross, with a gigantic double wind- 
 ing staircase in the middle, giving access to each story ; and then, 
 to each story of the central hall, two stories of small apartments, each 
 suite having its separate staircase and access to the central hall. 
 The construction of this preceded that of Boulogne by several years. 
 The chateau of La Muette, on the contrary, on a scale smaller even 
 than that of Madrid, furnishes us with a plan conceived after very 
 nearly the same programme. 
 
 The chateau of La Muette (Fig. 70, scale two millimetres to the 
 mètre) was also built by Francis L, “ who,” said Du Cerceau, “ after 
 having built the château of Saint-Germain-en-Laye, and finding it very 
 much to his taste, chose a site in the neighboring forest about two 
 leagues from the said château, near a little marsh, the retreat of the 
 wild game when wearied with the chase ; and he built there this 
 hunting-lodge for his convenience when in at. the death, and called it 
 La Muette , as it was a secret place, shut in on all sides by the close 
 forest. Nevertheless, as it was right-royally built, it was not so 
 retired and concealed as the name would seem to imply, for its height 
 arose far above the surrounding trees.” Under these circumstances, 
 the requirements for this royal lodge must have been dictated by the 
 prince himself, in his desire to have in the heart of the forest a tran- 
 quil retreat, where he might repose and enjoy himself with a few 
 intimate friends after the fatigues of a day of chase ; and we shall find 
 that the singular arrangement of this lodge exactly satisfied all these 
 conditions. 
 
 The first floor was raised upon a basement which was occupied by 
 the domestic offices of the establishment. The entrance of the château 
 was at A, to which access was obtained by a little bridge thrown over 
 the moat. On each side of the passage B was a staircase, with a 
 common landing-place over the passage ; to this we shall have occa- 
 sion presently to return. From the passage B, by one of those oblique 
 entrances which were so common in those days, entrance was obtained 
 into the great hall C, which had windows on three sides, two balco- 
 nies, two chimney-places, two doors giving access to two state bed- 
 chambers, and another door opening into the chapel D. From the 
 passage B, by the uncovered galleries or balconies E, communication 
 
374 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 was obtained on either side with winding staircases, ascending the 
 whole height of the edifice, or with the apartments F, each including 
 a bedchamber, a garde-robe or boudoir G, and a closet H. Each 
 boudoir and each chamber was supplied with a fireplace. From one 
 
 Tig. 76. 
 
 I' - ' - 1 - 1 ! - 
 
 10 
 
 - 1 - ^ - ' I 
 
 £0 
 
 — 1 
 
 of these suites, as well as from the great hall, there was direct com- 
 munication with the apartment I, also containing a boudoir K and a 
 closet L. Two other suites M, equally complete, were accessible from 
 the hall, from the apartment N, or from the exterior by means of 
 winding stairs, which descended to the basement, thus enabling the 
 
CHATEAU OF LA MUETTE. 
 
 375 
 
 guests to obtain independent ingress and egress without the neces- 
 sity of passing through the more public apartments. The communi- 
 cation obtained by means of the balconies or open galleries E and 
 O with the four winding staircases were necessary, as the principal 
 hall was two stories in height ; or, in other words, as there were only 
 three superimposed halls to five stories of other apartments : thus, of 
 the first four stories of apartments, two were included in the height 
 of the main hall, and two in that of the corresponding hall above it. 
 This same arrangement occurs at Chambord, and it is certainly a very 
 proper one ; for a height appropriate to a room thirty by sixty feet 
 would be inappropriate for an apartment twenty-four feet square. This 
 disposition of the great halls in lui Muette, each occupying two stories 
 of the smaller apartments, was frankly indicated on the exterior by 
 the arcades on the façade a b. In this connection it is proper to state 
 that the construction of La Muette was similar to that of the old 
 chateau of Saint-Germain-en-Laye ; it was built in great part of brick, 
 and consisted, as regarded the central pavilion or main body of the 
 lodge, of arches resting on buttresses and sheltering the windows and 
 balconies. As at Saint-Germain also, all the upper story was vaulted 
 (thus accounting for these buttresses and for the unusual thickness of 
 the walls), and the whole was roofed with a terrace of flag-stones for 
 the convenience of those desiring to enjoy a view of the forest. The 
 grand double staircase served equally as a means of communication 
 with the three stories of principal halls or, by means of the interme- 
 diate landing-places and of the central passage, with the five stories 
 of apartments. 
 
 In the composition of this plan we discover evidences of the same 
 ingenuity which the mediaeval architects exhibited, when they built 
 châteaux to serve the double purpose of fortresses and pleasure-houses ; 
 yet already we can see signs of a tendency for symmetrical disposi- 
 tions becoming arbitrary in their artificial requirements, and, above 
 all, for certain new theories in design, showing a studied effort to 
 break away from the influence of traditions. 
 
 But, during this sixteenth century, a brilliant era of activity and 
 agitation, very many enterprises were begun and but few completed, 
 and it would be unfair to form opinions regarding its architecture so 
 often presenting itself to us in unfinished conceptions or in detached 
 portions of extensive designs which were never executed. Thus we 
 can form no idea of what the Louvre of Francis I. or of Henry II. 
 
376 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 would have been if completed. The original general plan of the 
 Renaissance palace does not exist, and perhaps it never did exist, for 
 the new constructions only arose to till the vacancies occasioned 
 by the gradual demolition of the Gothic Louvre of Philip Augustus 
 and Charles V. 
 
 Other great palaces, like those of Blois, Fontainebleau, or Amboise, 
 were only ancient castles appropriated to new uses, whose primitive 
 plans therefore underwent but unimportant modifications. The château 
 of Saint- Germain-en-Laye even, although entirely rebuilt in every 
 part, excepting the chapel, which was of the thirteenth century, was 
 certainly nothing more than a modern superstructure built upon the 
 foundations and basements of the old feudal castle. It was not a 
 conception belonging properly, in plan, to the Renaissance. 
 
 In 1564, Catharine de Medici, disinclined to live longer in the 
 château of Tournelles, where Henry II. died, selected for her abode a 
 mansion, long celebrated for its salubrious position, outside the city 
 and on the banks of the Seine, where the Duchess of Angoulême, 
 mother of Francis I., had recovered her health. This mansion re- 
 ceived its name from the tile-kilns (tuileries) which had been estab- 
 lished in its neighborhood since the year 1372. Catharine purchased 
 this mansion, together with the lands which surrounded it, and Phil- 
 ibert de l’Orme was commissioned to construct there a vast palace 
 destined for the accommodation of the queen-mother. The plan of 
 the first floor of this palace has been preserved by Du Cerceau in 
 his great work, Des plus excellons bastimens de France. This is, in 
 fact, a very singular design, largely composed, in which the influence 
 of antiquity at length makes its appearance in the most emphatic 
 manner, and French tradition seems quite effaced. It is not easy to 
 understand how the requirements of a princely mansion of that time, 
 as expressed in the châteaux just described, could have been satisfied 
 by a grand plan so monumental in its character and so unpractical in 
 its distributions. Philibert de l’Orme was enabled (see Plate XA II.) 
 to build only that part of his grand design comprised between the 
 letters A and B on the garden side ; and even this has been so modi- 
 fied by subsequent constructions that it is by no means easy to find 
 traces of the original conception there. As a whole, this place recalls 
 rather an Asiatic palace than a French château. It must have been 
 the intention of the architect to arrange suites of apartments above 
 the immense galleries C. But the troubles of the League forced 
 
THE TUILERIES OF CATHARINE HE MEDICI. 
 
 377 
 
 Catharine to suspend the works, and she never lived in her palace 
 of the Tuileries. However impracticable the plan of Philibert de 
 l’Orme may have been, it must be admitted that this palace would 
 have been far more habitable than the present palace of the Tuileries 
 is, with its endless galleries, divided by transverse partition-walls, 
 without fitting accommodations for service, without great halls of 
 reunion, without passages or corridors, and without convenient stair- 
 cases. 
 
 Let us glance at this composition. The principal entrance of the 
 palace was to have faced the city at D, very near where the trium- 
 phal arch now stands, built by Percier and Fontaine. We find in 
 the plan a great court of honor E, bordered, in this story, on two 
 opposite sides by porticos or open galleries. Four smaller courts, 
 two on each side of the main court, were probably destined for the 
 service of the palace, and were separated by two amphitheatres; but 
 what purpose these amphitheatres were intended to subserve I cannot 
 tell, unless they were to have been for the fêtes or ballets then so 
 much in vogue. One of them was perhaps intended for a circus or 
 manège. The great hall was at. F, and its arrangement is very beau- 
 tiful. Access was obtained to the royal apartments by the ascent of 
 a magnificent staircase, which was extant so late as the middle of the 
 seventeenth century. The porticos H, opening on the garden, carried 
 a terrace, which, although considerably modified in its disposition, 
 still exists. But without discussing the value or authenticity of the 
 plans which Du Cerceau has left us (and I am inclined to think that, 
 in execution, Philibert de l’Orme, who was essentially a practical 
 man, would have subjected them to material changes), let us select a 
 portion of the garden front, and examine its composition in detail 
 (Plate XVIII.). 
 
 As regards art, we are so much accustomed to exaggerations, so 
 prone to accept size for grandeur, costly elaboration for enrichment, 
 noise for harmony, that it is difficult to find a true standard of criti- 
 cism, which will enable us to appreciate that which is delicate, chaste, 
 refined, and conceived in really good taste. Now Philibert de l’Orme 
 was endowed, beyond any of his contemporaries, with the surest taste, 
 the truest sentiment, and the severest principles. This is evident, not 
 only from his works as a practical architect, but from his treatises as 
 an architectural writer. To these we cannot too often refer for in- 
 struction in times like ours, when true art has so sadly gone astray, 
 
378 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 abandoned, as it is, to the strangest caprices, or to routines little in 
 accordance with modern culture and ingenuity. In the works of 
 Philibert de l’Orme we perceive evidences of a careful and attentive 
 study of proportions, and a harmony in the mutual relations of the 
 various parts, which is apparently simple and easy, but which, in 
 reality, is the result of a perfect knowledge of his art and of the 
 means placed at his disposal. As regards the palace of the Tuileries, 
 in the composition of the portico of the first floor, on the garden front 
 A B, we can see a singularly happy example of French genius, ex- 
 pressed not so much in any especial novelty or freshness of invention 
 as in its peculiar elegance and refinement. 
 
 As a whole, this gallery is a composition borrowed from the arts of 
 ancient Rome ; but the French artist is apparent in the peculiar struc- 
 ture of the portico, — a structure which is not oidy frankly acknowl- 
 edged, but made a motive for decoration. His construction being 
 built up in courses, Philibert de l’Orme has indicated each of these 
 courses by a peculiar treatment of the piers of his portico, and more 
 especially of the Ionic columns which are applied against them. In 
 the latter the fluted stone sections of the shaft alternate with low 
 courses of delicately chiselled marble, the sculpture of the former 
 being bold and sharp, while that of the intermediate marble rings 
 or belts is as flat and refined as the finer character of the material 
 admits. In the designs cut upon these belts, the artist, inspired by 
 a delicate feeling of sympathy, has made use of attributes to express, 
 iu the more durable of the two materials, and only in that, the regrets 
 of Catharine as the widow of Henry II. ; mirrors and broken plumes 
 appear with clubs (the emblem of force), interlaced with knotted 
 cords (the emblem of widowhood) and blighted laurels A The pro- 
 
 portions of the order, with its high pedestal, making a sort of cloister 
 of the arcade, and its delicate entablature, formerly surmounted by a 
 balustrade, are exceedingly happy. The wall behind is pierced for 
 mullioned windows opposite the alternate openings of the arcade, 
 while in the corresponding blank windows or flat niches in the inter- 
 mediate spaces of the wall, the masonry is divided in alternate high 
 
 * It is worthy of remark, that, among the decorations of the piers and panels in the second 
 story, there frequently appears the well-known cipher, commonly accepted as that of Henry II. 
 and Diana of Poitiers, the H and D interlaced and surmounted by a crown. As it would be a 
 singular impropriety to ornament a palace, built after the death of Henry II. for his widow, 
 with these initials, so often repeated in monuments erected during his lifetime, may not the 
 cipher be rather that of Henry and Catharine, H. and C. ? 
 
PHILIBERT DE L’ORME. 
 
 379 
 
 and low courses, like that of the piers of the arcade. The story above 
 is a continuation of the wall behind the arcade, and is composed of 
 a Mansard attic of long dormer-windows alternating with panelled 
 frontispieces richly decorated, the whole forming a continuous order, 
 whose broken outline is relieved against the sombre roof which rises 
 behind. It is a rich crown to an architecture truly palatial, grand, 
 and noble in its masses, and, in its details, precious and exquisitely 
 refined. 
 
 Between the two galleries of this facade was the grand double 
 winding staircase, which was regarded as one of the wonders of the 
 Renaissance. It was crowned by an elegant cupola, flanked by four 
 turrets or barbacans. The two extremities of the galleries were to 
 have been terminated, as indicated in the plan, by two pavilions, con- 
 taining the private apartments of the palace ; they were of good pro- 
 portions, and so managed as not to crush by their mass the delicate 
 architecture of the centre, as was the case with those erected in their 
 stead by Jean Bullant, after the death of de l’Orme. Although what 
 is left of the works of both these architects in this façade is very much 
 disfigured and overlaid by subsequent constructions, it is easy to see 
 that the architecture of Jean Bullant can sustain no comparison with 
 that of Philibert de l’Orme. 
 
 The history of the construction of the Louvre and the Tuileries, 
 during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, should make us careful 
 about forming hasty conclusions concerning the compositions of the 
 Renaissance architects. In the midst of the innumerable intrigues 
 and jealousies which occasioned the removal of architects and changes 
 of their designs every few years, it is very difficult to get hold of the 
 first idea, the unadulterated conception of any one artist. What 
 remains at present of the oldest portions of this palace is the result of 
 conceptions so various, superpositions so strange, compromises and 
 adaptations so artificial and arbitrary, that we can scarcely separate 
 from the mass the work of any one man, and must be content with 
 selecting a few scattered fragments of a charming taste, as in this 
 gallery of the Tuileries, in the southwest interior angle of the court 
 of the Louvre, in the lower story of the gallery of Apollo, and in 
 the order extended thence along the quay. If we would know the 
 real sentiments of these architects of the Renaissance, we must ex- 
 amine their written and published works. I cannot here resist the 
 pleasure of again citing a few lines written by Philibert de l’Orme, 
 
380 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 setting forth very distinctly the real tendencies of that sober mind 
 in regard to the exterior forms and decorations of buildings. What 
 he wrote so wisely three centuries ago is more than ever applicable 
 to-day : — 
 
 “ I have always been of the opinion that it would be much better for the 
 architect rather to devote himself to ascertaining and putting into practice the 
 best means of preserving the health and property of mankind than to preoccupy 
 himself with the decoration of walls. But this is not the custom of the day ; 
 for many who profess to be architects and conductors of works do not under- 
 take to study this subject seriously, because they know and care nothing about 
 it, and would be very much at fault if questioned about any such practical con- 
 siderations. And what is still worse, I sometimes observe that noblemen, when 
 building, are much more concerned about the tine ornaments of pilasters, col- 
 umns, cornices, mouldings, and bases, about incrustations of marble, etc., than 
 about the aspect and site of their houses. I do not mean to say that it is not 
 proper and good to make very beautiful ornaments and very rich façades for 
 kings, princes, and lords, when they want them and are willing to pay for them. 
 When such façades are composed with symmetry and true proportion, and when 
 the ornamentation is applied with good taste and discretion, the eye is delighted 
 and profited. But in reality delicate decoration is much better fitted for bou- 
 doirs, chimney-places, baths, galleries, and libraries, whither gentlemen are 
 accustomed to resort and amuse themselves, than to façades, vestibules, peri- 
 styles, porticos, and such exterior places. Of course everybody can see that it 
 would be very much out of place in kitchens, or in any of the domestic offices 
 of a household. But when we decorate at all, we should be careful to do so 
 with all the resources of art and all the dignity of architecture, and not by elab- 
 orating scrolls and leaves, nor by making those bold projections or extravagant 
 undercuttings, which not only afford lodgment for dirt and all manner of un- 
 cleanliness, and for the nests of birds and insects, but are especially liable to be 
 broken off and disfigured in the course of time, and then that which was intended 
 to give pleasure only serves to sadden and disgust. I consider all this a waste 
 of money, even if it does not create also a feeling of melancholy distrust in the 
 future. I advise architects and all those Avho make building a profession rather 
 to study the nature and requirements of the localities where they are to build 
 than to devote themselves exclusively to prodigality of beautiful ornaments, 
 which too often serve only as traps to catch men, or rather what is in their purses. 
 Indeed, it is much more honest and useful to know how to build a house well 
 and make it wholesome, than to cover it with a chance medley of decoration, 
 without reason, proportion, or stint. But, in order to make houses both con- 
 venient and beautiful, I admit that it is necessary to add to our practical knowl- 
 edge a feeling for the proper relations which the various features should have 
 for each other, and the amount and character of ornament which each should 
 sustain The ornaments and decorations of façades should be appro- 
 
JACQUES ANDROUET DU CERCEAU. 
 
 381 
 
 priate to their position and should correspond in character with the interior ; 
 and the interior should be so planned and divided, and the windows so disposed, 
 as not unnecessarily to disfigure the façade. But the system of exterior decora- 
 tion should also be such as not to interfere with the most convenient arrange- 
 ment of the rooms within, and not to place any artificial restraint upon the 
 commodious and necessary disposition of doors, windows, and chimneys. Art 
 and nature should accommodate themselves to each other/’ * 
 
 In this passage we see the man who built the château of Anet, 
 who left the mark of his genius upon the palace of the Tuileries, 
 who erected many charming residences at Lyons, and who conceived 
 the monument of Francis I. at Saint-Denis. But it unfortunately 
 happens that public works. are not apt to be confided to such wise, 
 critical, and sober minds as his.f Yet it would seem that the prin- 
 ciples thus expressed by Philibert de l’Orme were not without their 
 good fruits, for, after him, caprice, which until then, during the first 
 half of the sixteenth century, had been almost the absolute mistress 
 of artists, began to lose its sway over the French Renaissance, and 
 to be supplanted by rules which grew daily more and more severe. 
 It is true that the events of the close of this century did not favor 
 any tendency to useless luxury, and that the higher nobility of France, 
 who were for the most part Protestants, had something besides 
 sumptuous building to occupy their energies. 
 
 But in a work published by Jacques Androuet Du Cerceau, in 
 1615, there is a collection of designs for country-houses, in which 
 the rational principles laid down by Philibert de l’Orme are scru- 
 pulously observed. | This collection, embracing designs ranging 
 from the most modest dwellings to mansions of considerable preten- 
 sion, includes some plans which are charming in composition, and 
 some elevations whose principal merit resides in their strict observ- 
 ance of De rOrme’s rule, to maintain a perfect correspondence be- 
 tween the interior and the exterior. In façades entirely destitute 
 of ornament, this principle is expressed in an arrangement of masses 
 dictated by the plans, in a judicious disposition of roofs, and in a 
 very delicate feeling for proportions. Du Cerceau, like a practical 
 man, furnishes with each plate an explanatory text including est i- 
 
 * “ L’Architecture ” of Philibert de l’Orme, 1576. 
 
 t See “Le Grands Architects français de la Renaissance,” by Ad. Berty, 1860. This work 
 includes much precious testimony regarding the architects of the sixteenth century. 
 
 Î See “Livre d’Archit. de Jac. Androuet Du Cerceau .... pour seigneurs, gentilshommes, 
 et autres qui voudront bastir aux champs,” etc. Paris, 1615. 
 
382 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 mates and specifications. Many of these plans recall on a small 
 scale those of Madrid and La Muette in having a grand central room 
 surrounded by subordinate apartments. If the king contented him- 
 self with a vast hall which served as a daily place of reunion and 
 even for a banqueting-room, private gentlemen had every reason to 
 be satisfied with a similar arrangement ; in fact, this was their living- 
 room, where they received, and eat, and spent their rainy days and 
 their evenings in conversations. No one remained in his or her 
 apartment, except to sleep, to dress, or when indisposed. 
 
 Fig. 77. 
 
 Fig. 77 is one of the plans of this collection of Du Cerceau. 
 According to the usage of the time, the manor-house is established 
 upon a platform having the appearance of a defensive work, and 
 surrounded by a moat full of water. But it will be seen that the 
 architect planted around the curtains and bastions of the defensive 
 work a trellis-work or arbor, thus surrounding the house with a 
 girdle of verdure and furnishing its inmates with a shady walk. At 
 A is a little elevated court with its grand flight of steps ; this is a 
 
' 
 
JACQUES ANDROUET DU CERCEAU. 3S3 
 
 mediaeval tradition, a reminiscence of the baronial court of honor. 
 The great room is at B, so disposed as to receive light on all four 
 sides, and yet to have communication with four apartments on this 
 floor, and with two staircases giving access to a similar range of 
 apartments above. Each apartment has its dressing-room or ward- 
 robe, and its private means of exit and entrance. Observe also that 
 the staircase halls on the lower floor serve as vestibules for the great 
 saloon as well as for the two principal apartments. Certainly, when 
 we consider the customs of the time, it would be impossible to find 
 a more convenient or more simple arrangement, or one which accom- 
 modates itself to a more pleasing exterior architectural effect. Now, 
 
 Fig. 78. 
 
 if we examine the elevation, (Fig. 78), we shall see an example of a 
 charming manor-house, whose exterior perfectly indicates the arrange- 
 ments of the interior. It was the custom then, as in classic times N 
 and in the (Middle Ages, to give to each of the main divisions of the 
 house its distinct roof; this allowed the architect great freedom 
 in planting his wings and arranging the general block plan, and at 
 
384 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 the same time enabled him to obtain the most picturesque effects 
 of elevation. At a later period the discovery was made that this 
 habit of the builders was wanting in dignity, and so all the rooms 
 of the household, the saloons and chambers alike, were thrown to- 
 gether under the same uniform roof. Yet it must be admitted that 
 this system of giving a separate roof to each of the main divisions 
 of a plan, however modest the house may be to which it is applied, 
 presents to the eye the appearance of a group of buildings much more 
 monumental in character than when moulded together and covered 
 by a single roof, according to the modern fashion. Thus, although 
 very many houses of private citizens in the nineteenth century have 
 more accommodation than is afforded in this château, very few have 
 so imposing an appearance. 
 
 The principal quality of the architectural works of the Renaissance, 
 from the middle of the fifteenth century to the reign of Louis XIII., 
 is in a certain distinction which has rarely been exhibited in later 
 works. By distinction I mean the natural effect unconsciously result- 
 ing from the general prevalence of correct taste throughout all the 
 levels of society. This precious quality was developed in the greatest 
 degree in the arts of Greek antiquity; the character of the Roman 
 mind was too coarse for any such expression, but it was the natural 
 art-language of the Trench architects of the sixteenth century ; in 
 fact, this quality of distinction must be a natural, unconscious expres- 
 sion, for if it is forced, if it can only be obtained by a direct effort, 
 it becomes mere affectation and mannerism. It is an easy thing in 
 architecture to make an imposing display, with plenty of money to 
 lavish ; the real difficulty is to give a perfume of art to the most 
 vulgar and the most simple things, and to know how to remain sober 
 and unostentatious in the midst of splendor. 
 
 The architects of the Renaissance, unlike their more modern breth- 
 ren, made no pretension to high social position, nor did they form 
 exclusive and pedantic coteries, as ours do, disposed to regard as 
 barbarians everybody outside of their circle of the initiated ; but, if 
 they did not assume the airs of gentlemen and modestly wore the 
 costume assigned to their position by the customs of their day, and 
 knew their place, they knew also how the wealthy and the great 
 should be best lodged according to the tastes and habits of rank ; 
 they knew how to make their art conform to these conditions, with- 
 out embarrassing them by any artificial formulas ; and, whether they 
 
FAILURE OF ITALIAN ARTISTS IN FRANCE. 
 
 385 
 
 were called upon to meet a practical necessity or to express a mere 
 fancy, they could do it without abandoning their principles. But 
 from the day when architects, formed in an academic body, discussed 
 art-questions with men of the world, set aside all rational principles 
 of art, and placed purely arbitrary conventionalities in the way of 
 the most direct and sincere expression of the requirements they were 
 called upon to fulfil, architecture was gradually removed further and 
 further from the sympathies of the age ; and now, since architecture 
 has become intolerant, unbending, and even tyrannical, the age has 
 at length learned how to do without it. 
 
 It is interesting to observe what fine revolutionary airs the Italian 
 artists assumed when admitted into France in the first years of the 
 sixteenth century, how they disdained all the architecture that met 
 their eyes, how disconcerted they were at the manner in which they 
 were expected to meet the requirements of building, and how the 
 noble patrons of architecture, finding that their tastes and habits of 
 life had to yield to the formalities of the imported art, and to make 
 continual sacrifices to its arbitrary rules, finally returned to the native 
 art which accommodated itself readily and happily to all the uses 
 they expected it to subserve. 
 
 But Louis XIV. and his ministers amused themselves by discuss- 
 ing high art with their architects ; and it is curious to see, under 
 these circumstances, how absolute and pedantic the architects soon 
 learned to be in their reasons why this or that form or stvle of art 
 should be adopted or rejected, but how little they concerned them- 
 selves about the practical wants they were to accommodate and those 
 minute distributions of the plan by means of which a house is ren- 
 dered habitable and comfortable. There is a curious book on this 
 subject which architects would do well to consult : the Memoirs of 
 Charles Perrault, brother of the architect of the colonnade of the 
 Louvre and of the Observatory.* 
 
 Charles Perrault was first surveyor of the buildings of the fang, or 
 what we would call director or inspector of civil buildings. He 
 had naturally the very highest opinions of his own knowledge about 
 art ; but he has given us some very precious information concerning 
 the intrigues of the court of Louis XIV. in respect to the design 
 which the chevalier Bernini Avas called upon to furnish for the com- 
 
 * “ Mémoires de Ch. Perrault de l’Academie française, et premier commis des bâtiments du 
 Roi.” Avignon, 1659. 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ■38 6 
 
 pletion of the Louvre, — a design fortunately never executed, not- 
 withstanding the good-will of the king and the boastings of the 
 celebrated Italian architect. Charles Perrault, who desired that the 
 execution of this project should rather be confided to his brother 
 (as really happened in part, as every one knows), considered the 
 chevalier Bernini the most extravagant of men, in which opinion he 
 certainly was sustained by facts, and so the chevalier was politely 
 shown back to Italy. But the truly instructive part of this whole 
 matter is the reason given by the first surveyor of the king why the 
 proposition of Bernini should be rejected. “ The chevalier,” said he, 
 “ never enters sufficiently into detail ; he is entirely preoccupied with 
 the idea of making grand saloons for theatres and festivals, and does 
 not descend to accommodate all the innumerable dependencies and 
 domestic offices of the royal household, to arrange which requires a 
 patient investigation and study little suited to the active and prompt 
 genius of the chevalier ; for 1 am persuaded that, as regards archi- 
 tecture, he finds himself much more at home in decorations and the- 
 atrical appointments. M. Colbert, on the contrary, required pre- 
 cision ; he wished to know how and where the king was to be lodged, 
 and how his servants were to be accommodated. He very rightly 
 thought that provision should be made, not only for the proper main- 
 tenance of the comfort and dignity of the king and the royal family, 
 but that commodious lodgings should be arranged and appointed for 
 all the officers of the household, even to the humblest, who, in their 
 own. sphere of duty, are no less necessary than the most important 
 in theirs ; he did not cease to make, unmake, and modify memo- 
 randa of all those points which he considered it necessary to observe 
 in distributing the various offices and apartments, and thus he fa- 
 tigued the Italian artist, who neither understood nor cared to under- 
 stand anything about such matters of detail, considering it beneath 
 the dignity of a great architect like himself to descend to such 
 minutiae.” 
 
 This is excellent ; but when we examine the designs of Perrault 
 and that part of his project which was executed, we may well ask 
 if the excellent reasons assigned for the rejection of the projects of 
 Bernini would not have been equally applicable against the work of 
 Perrault. In fact, if the good sense and correct spirit of Colbert, 
 if the memorials and intrigues of Charles Perrault, have happily pre- 
 served us from the Louvre of Bernini, which would have left nothing 
 
THE LOUVRE OE BERNINI AND PERRAULT. 
 
 387 
 
 of that of Henry II., it is not less certain that the architecture of the 
 physician Perrault was little fitted to meet all the requirements of 
 a royal household. It was an affair of colonnades, peristyles, and 
 orders, not of the most convenient general arrangement of a palace. 
 The king, fatigued with these disputes, chose the design of Dr. 
 Perrault, not because he found it or could have found it more sen- 
 sible and commodious than the others, but because it was “ more 
 beautiful and more majestic.” “ Of course,” added the first surveyor 
 of the royal buildings, “ the envy of all the professional architects 
 of Paris was aroused at this selection of the king, and they made 
 many poor jokes about it, saying that architecture must be very sick 
 to be placed thus in the hands of the doctors.” The professional 
 architects did not know how truly they spoke. Yet architecture still 
 had a great deal of life left in it ; reason and common-sense, not- 
 withstanding the mania for art-formulas which had already begun 
 to take the place of art itself, still found means of making them- 
 selves felt. There yet remain to us many very remarkable architec- 
 tural works, executed at the close of the seventeenth and during the 
 •eighteenth century, in which we find grandeur, well-conceived dispo- 
 sitions of plans, and a certain sober elegance, which, for many years 
 past, have been strangers to us. 
 
 As soon as the wholesome impulses of truth and common-sense 
 were made subordinate to absolute formulas regarding the proportions 
 and use of the ancient orders, to the artificial requirements of sym- 
 metry, and to the authority of classic precedent as interpreted by aca- 
 demical rules, architecture fell into its decline. But, in the bemnniim 
 the Renaissance did not essentially modify the traditional arrange- 
 ment of plans and elevations, except as rendered necessary by the 
 natural development of new manners and customs ; it remained faith- 
 fid to the mediaeval methods of composition ; its characteristic inno- 
 vation was in the decorative system it borrowed from the arts of 
 antiquity and from the Italian arts of the fifteenth century ; but, at 
 bottom, the architecture of the Prencli Renaissance was still the 
 Trench architecture of the centuries immediately preceding. Thus the 
 old system ot expressing the several stories of a house externally by 
 an especial disposition of architectural features arranged to that end 
 was still adhered to ; so that when the first Renaissance architects 
 desired to make use of the ancient orders, these orders were placed 
 one upon the other according to the number of floors ; this arrange- 
 
388 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ment was adopted in the châteaux of Chambord, Madrid, the Louvre, 
 Ancy-le-Franc, Tanlay, Anet, and many others. But the application 
 of the ancient orders to this system of decoration, although logical 
 and reasonable, had the disadvantage of giving to the façades so 
 decorated a mean and monotonous appearance. The superimposed 
 orders, whether very rich or very simple, cut up the building like a 
 checker-board, and presented an assemblage of horizontal lines (the 
 entablatures) and perpendicular lines (the columns or pilasters), which 
 fatigued the eye by their uniformity, — an objection especially offen- 
 sive in a country like France, ever fond of variety and novelty. 
 
 Philibert de l’Orme, in the composition of the palace of the Tuile- 
 ries, endeavored to avoid this objectionable effect by using but one 
 order, and that in the lower story, surmounted by a story so broken 
 in its upper outlines as to have merely the effect of a crown ; and, 
 again, he endeavored to give his lower order an especial character 
 by frankly emphasizing the horizontal courses of which his pilasters 
 and columns were built, thus breaking their vertical lines. A simi- 
 lar experiment had already been made (and before the superimpo- 
 sition of the stories added by Henry IV.) in the gallery of Apollo 
 and in the adjoining gallery extending along the quay of the Louvre. 
 But, in this case, it was merely an ingenious expedient to avoid the 
 coldness and monotony of the horizontal and vertical lines, which 
 divided the façades into equal compartments ; it was no new prin- 
 ciple. On examining the monuments built during the second half 
 of the sixteenth century, it is easy to see that the architects were 
 constantly seeking new devices and combinations, and endeavoring 
 to obtain an aspect of grandeur in their edifices by suppressing, as 
 far as possible, the divisions imposed by the heights of the stories. 
 Jean Bullant, in parts of the château of Ecouen, had already tried 
 to break his orders free from the confinement of successive stories. 
 Thus in the court-yard he used a sort of Corinthian veneering com- 
 prehending the whole height of the edifice. But, however remark- 
 able this order may be in itself in respect to workmanship, it is but 
 a study, a separate abstract architectural feature, with no especial 
 significance in its application, and having no essential relations with 
 its surroundings. 
 
 In the ancient buildings connected with the château of Chantilly, 
 we find very distinctly expressed a desire to obtain a grand effect 
 with an architectural order by extending its Corinthian pilasters 
 
EMBARRASSMENTS OE SUPERIMPOSED ORDERS. 389 
 
 Fig. 79. 
 
 through two stories (Fig. 79).*' This expedient certainly gave a very 
 imposing appearance to the structure to which it was applied, yet 
 it would be hard to find a reasonable explanation for it. 
 
 * See Du Cerceau, “ Des plus excellens bastimens de France.” 
 
390 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 But, after all, it was impossible for the architects of the sixteenth 
 century to break away suddenly from the traditional methods they 
 had inherited from their ancestors ; the old French school still lived 
 in them ; they were still men of taste, carefully avoiding vulgarity 
 and seeking to give to every object, however ordinary and simple, 
 the distinction of a work of art. It is easy to see traces of the con- 
 flict which took place in the minds of the architects of the latter half 
 of the sixteenth century, when they desired at once to satisfy the 
 demands of reason and to abandon the monotony into which they 
 had been led by the system of superimposed orders ; to effect this 
 object they made use of every imaginable expedient ; they used 
 orders of Caryatides and Terms, sculptured piers, panels enriched 
 with ornaments, pilasters with arabesques. Yet, however fertile the 
 architects were in such expedients, so long as they used the super- 
 imposed orders, there always remained the same inherent defect of 
 littleness. 
 
 Andronet Du Cerceau, in his collection Des plus excellens basti- 
 viens de France , presents us with the designs prepared for the con- 
 struction of the chateau of Charleval, near Andelys. This château, 
 begun by Charles IX., “ was to have been,” said Du Cerceau, “ the 
 first building in France.” Although the actual construction proceeded 
 but little further than the foundations, the designs which remain are 
 exceedingly interesting both in the arrangements of the plans and 
 and in the style of the facades ; in the latter we can perceive the new 
 devices which were used to obtain grandeur with classic details, and 
 yet without offending against the logical principles inherited from 
 mediaeval France. In the exterior elevations of the buildings of the 
 principal court (Fig. 80) we observe that the great order of Doric 
 pilasters was so treated as to fulfil exactly the functions of buttresses 
 or “ chains ” of stone. To better express this function, the architect 
 divided these pilasters by horizontal lines, so that, regarding them as 
 buttresses, it was allowable to extend them uninterrupted through 
 two stories and the intermediate floor, without grave offence against 
 the laws of good taste. Observe, also, that the cornice is continuous 
 without being broken by the pilasters, whose friezes are stopped 
 under its projection. Irrespective of details, the general disposition 
 still belongs entirely to the system of civil mediaeval architecture. 
 
 But in the court-yard facade of the same building, which appears 
 to have been built up to a certain height, the architect of Charleval 
 
Fig. 80. 
 

 
 
ADOPTION OF THE COLOSSAL ORDER. 
 
 391 
 
 not only emphasized the grand order more frankly, hut entirely con- 
 cealed the presence of the floor between the first and second stories ; 
 these conditions, although contrary to the logical principles of medi- 
 aeval architects, were accepted openly and treated with remarkable 
 address. In fact (Fig. 81), the floor between the first and second stories, 
 naturally laid on the level marked A, is cut by semicircular niches in 
 such a manner that the eye dôes not suspect its existence, and neces- 
 sarily embraces the whole height of this order, really extending 
 through two stories, as if they were one. The architect used his skill, 
 not to effect a compromise between the old and new systems, like his 
 predecessors, but to conceal the sacrifices of truth necessitated by the 
 frankness with which he rejected the former and adopted the latter. 
 He evinced the same skill also by interposing between every two 
 arches of his portico an entire bay of the order, and piercing each 
 of these intermediate solids with a little square window, thus not 
 only obtaining a perfect shelter for his portico, but emphasizing the 
 main lines of expression of his order, and giving to the bays between 
 the arches an extraordinary grandeur. It had the additional prac- 
 tical advantage of enabling the cellars to receive light by means of 
 openings under each of the small intermediate windows. It was, as 
 a whole, the work of a consummate artist, and I know nothing in the 
 palaces of the Italian Renaissance which can approach it in nobility 
 of aspect. 
 
 It is therefore certain that, at the close of the sixteenth century, a 
 few architects were bold enough to give up the method of confining 
 the orders to separate stories, and to adopt an order extending un- 
 broken from the base to the cornice of a building of many stories. 
 To the latter the name of colossal order has been given. This experi- 
 ment had an immense success ; it was discovered that architecture so 
 treated had a grandeur and dignity which dwarfed into comparative 
 insignificance everything which had been done in the first half of 
 that century. At first the colossal order was only used for very large 
 buildings or for façades of great extent ; it was not admitted defi- 
 nitely into architecture till about the middle of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury, as in the chateau of Vaux, built by the architect Le Vau for the 
 superintendent Fouquet. It is easy to understand that this majestic 
 style of architecture was very much affected by Louis XIV., whose 
 ideas about art were confined to a sentiment of apparent grandeur, — 
 a sentiment which, it must be confessed, had its advantages, and was 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 302 
 
 invariably manifested in all that was built during the reign of that 
 prince. 
 
 Thus the Renaissance, which had supplanted the art of the Middle 
 Ages at the moment when that art was at the end of its resources, 
 fell into its decline much sooner even than the system it had replaced ; 
 in less than a century it said all that it had to say ; and then the 
 Gothic could not be revived, for it was quite dead so far as all the 
 uses of life at that time were concerned. Therefore it Avas necessary 
 to recur to a new style. From that time architecture began to be 
 imposed, to be an art to Avhich all considerations of comfort and con- 
 venience must be secondary ; the colossal order became a tyrant, and 
 established itself as master in the public monument as well as in the 
 private dwelling. At times there were evidences of a reaction against 
 its tyranny, as in the Hôtel des Invalides ; but these were the excep- 
 tions, and the colossal order remained triumphant until the end of the 
 last century. The last and by no means the worst expression of its 
 power Avas in the Garde-meuble, and the Hôtel des Monnaies at 
 Paris. If the colossal style had oidy replaced the insignificant uni- 
 formity of the Renaissance by a uniformity on a grand scale, it would 
 not have been so bad ; but the latter had the serious disadvantages 
 of throAving everything with Avhich it Avas associated out of scale, and 
 of being in no respect pliant to the practical uses of architecture. 
 
 In my opinion, tAvo or three superimposed ranges of windows can- 
 not be comprised betAveen pilasters or columns thirty or forty feet 
 high Avith good effect ; the arrangement must give the impression 
 that a building built by giants is inhabited bv dwarfs. This is the 
 actual effect produced by certain antique monuments appropriated to 
 modern uses, as, for example, the temple of Antoninus Pius at Rome, 
 between Avhose columns the stories of the custom-house have been 
 built. This want of harmony between the style of architecture and 
 the practical uses to Avhich it is devoted so troubled architects ot 
 the last, two centuries, that they gradually found it necessary to estab- 
 lish some less violent contrasts of proportion in their façades, and so, 
 using these colossal orders, they finally began to make their AvindoAvs, 
 for example, colossal also ; the result Avas, that often the practical 
 requirements of the buildings so treated rendered it necessary to cut 
 the height of these great Avindows in halves Avith floors, or their 
 width with partitions. If this arrangement produces a satisfactory 
 effect to those avIio examine these majestic façades from Avithout, 
 
Fig. 81 
 
CHARACTERISTICS OF LOUIS XIY. STYLE. 
 
 393 
 
 those behind find the practical result not so agreeable, and have 
 every reason to complain of the architect and his architecture. This 
 is but one of the miserable consequences of the neglect of true 
 principles. But whatever may have been the errors and exagger- 
 ations of mediaeval art in the last stages of its decline, it never 
 reached such a state of discord as this. In the Gothic monuments 
 of the fifteenth century, — even those most overloaded with carvings 
 and ornaments, most cut up with mouldings and combinations of pris- 
 matic surfaces, — we find always a close adherence to the programme 
 imposed ; a perfect compliance with the domestic customs of the in- 
 habitants, if it was a private mansion, or, if it was a town hall or 
 a hospital, a ready accommodation for every public necessity. The 
 first architects of the Renaissance, in adopting a new style without 
 pausing to examine if it had any peculiar adaptability to the manners 
 and customs of modern civilization, thought only of exchanging an 
 old, worn-out garment for a new and elegant one, taking it for granted 
 that the body and soul beneath would still retain all their wholesome 
 liberty ; this idea, indeed, for some time, kept them in the right track ; 
 but soon the garment became the principal consideration, thus in- 
 commoding the body and consequently placing a restraint upon the 
 mind. In this way, at length, a sort of guild of architectural tailors 
 was formed, which only allowed coats of one cut or fashion, what- 
 ever might be the peculiarities of the body to be clothed, thus avoid- 
 ing all the trouble of inventing new combinations for each case, as 
 well as of hunting among bygone fashions for ideas applicable to 
 modern uses. 
 
 But if architecture, because proceeding from false principles, went 
 astray, it at least, at the close of the reign of Louis XIV., erred with 
 grandeur. The monuments of that period were the characteristic 
 expressions of a people still having a powerful art-language of their 
 own. If their exterior architecture indicated an imminent decline, 
 if its great aim was to obtain majesty of effect at all cost, and if, in 
 so doing, it became more and more unbending to the requirements 
 of society, their interior architecture at least, for a long time, preserved 
 a true character, often expressing with rare felicity the manners and 
 customs of the reign. Even up to the close of the last century, the 
 interiors of palaces and other public monuments, of town houses, and 
 châteaux, were conceived and executed by artists who still preserved 
 some of the good traditions of art ; for there is no one who, on 
 
394 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 entering a saloon of the time of Louis XIV., does not seem to he 
 transported, as it were, into the midst of the society of that epoch. 
 
 It may, perhaps, be permitted to express a doubt as to whether, a 
 hundred years lienee, the interiors of the palaces and mansions of our 
 day will have a similar significance. Will it not be difficult to find 
 in them a fair expression of our manners, ideas, and habitual life? 
 But to disentangle this strange confusion of modern arts, to explain 
 this luxury of bad alloy, to deduce a rational conclusion from this 
 poverty of invention concealed under a mass of gilding and orna- 
 ments stolen from every country and every age, will be a task for 
 our descendants ; why should we trouble ourselves about such 
 things ? 
 
 At the beginning of the sixteenth century Italy was distinguished 
 for the beauty of its interior decorations in public and private works. 
 The library of the cathedral of Sienna, some parts of the old palace 
 of Florence, the stanze of the Vatican, the Villa Madama, the vault 
 of the sanctuary of Santa Maria del Popolo, the Vatican library, the 
 interior of the Farnese palace at Rome and of a number of palaces 
 at Venice and Genoa, present examples of decoration, whose wise 
 conception and admirable execution have been and must still remain 
 an inexhaustible source of profitable study. But what was the great 
 principle observed by the authors of these remarkable works ? In a 
 word, it was this : in their interiors, the form of the architecture, the 
 structure, was never dissembled or concealed under multiplicity, 
 extent, dimensions, or exaggerated richness of decorative details. 
 
 In my preceding Discourses I have said that the exterior decora- 
 tion of Greek architecture Avas merely structure refined into beautiful 
 forms by the strictest application of reason ; the elements of struc- 
 ture always appeared under the architecture, as the bones of a man 
 are evident under his muscles. The decorative interior fragments 
 remaining to us from this beautiful architecture are always in accord- 
 ance with this principle. Under the Roman Empire, it the decora- 
 tion Avas sometimes distinct from the basis of structure, it neverthe- 
 less frankly confessed its oAvn structure as a parasite. We have seen 
 that the Roman monument, made of rubble and brick, received a 
 decoration of marble without any absolutely necessary relation in 
 character with the structure to which it was applied ; but this deco- 
 ration Avas, as it were, a second structure whose treatment belied 
 neither its material nor its Avorkmanship. For the purpose of fixing 
 
MEDLEY AL TRADITIONS IN SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 395 
 
 it indelibly in the minds of my readers, I will repeat here what I * 
 have already said : Greek architecture is a naked body, whose beauty 
 is the result of the perfect adaptability of its form to its structure 
 and functions, while Roman architecture is a body clothed ; but 
 whether this clothing fitted the body well or ill, as a clothing it was 
 always reasonable and appropriate to its material ; it was rich if the 
 material was rich, and simple if the material was poor ; its ornaments 
 belied neither its real texture nor its form. During the Middle 
 Ages, in France at least, it was again the structure which was deco- 
 rated, the naked body, which was made as beautiful as possible ; it 
 is in this respect that the architecture of that epoch is so closely 
 allied to the Greek. Rut the Renaissance endeavored to conciliate 
 these two principles of decoration ; the body and the clothing were 
 regarded as one ; and, while resorting to antique Roman art for 
 precedents to follow, the architects of that time were struck only by 
 its apparent form, never discovering that that form was a mere en- 
 velope and not the true structure, and, under this delusion, they 
 adopted it as decorated structure and treated it according to their 
 mediaeval traditions. 
 
 It is said by certain travellers that the naked savages in tropic 
 
 climates, when they see Europeans for the first time, imagine that 
 
 their clothing is a part of their bodies, and are much astonished 
 
 when the white strangers take off their hats. Now the archi- 
 
 ° y 
 
 tects of the sixteenth century (whom I am far from comparing 
 
 with these savages) saw in the massive rubble-work of the old 
 
 Romans, with its casing of stone, marble, or stucco, a homogeneous 
 
 whole, which they undertook to imitate with mediaeval means of 
 
 construction. And therefore, although their aim was to be like the 
 
 Romans, they composed an original architecture. But this confusion 
 
 did not last long, and architecture, in the hands of Philibert de 
 
 l’Orme and the contemporaneous architects, already sensibly inclined 
 
 towards antique structure;*' as they pretended to adopt the Roman 
 
 style absolutely, it was logical to submit their construction to this 
 
 style, let the traditions of an art are so difficult to forget, its traces 
 
 are so deep, that, even at the end of the sixteenth century, we still 
 
 see the struggle between the two opposing principles in the same 
 
 monuments ; we still see the mediaeval decorated structure, the naked 
 
 body in its own proper image, and, next it, a bit of facing borrowed 
 
 * See the chapel of the château of Anet, the tomh of the Yalois at Saint-Denis (Marat). 
 
300 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 from Roman art. The savage has put on a coat, but he is still bare- 
 legged. But the idea of building up a construction in masses, a 
 construction planted like a block, and then afterwards, or even as 
 the building was going on, to face it with a decoration of stone or 
 marble which was not absolutely essential to its stability, could not 
 readily enter into the mind of an architect who came after the school 
 of the Middle Ages ; and, besides, the means at his disposal were 
 insufficient to do Roman work, and feeble in comparison with Roman 
 resources. Under the circumstances, it was natural that he should 
 still continue to honor his construction according to the traditions 
 by which he was surrounded, and that, in imitating Roman archi- 
 tecture, he should obtain but a very meagre reminiscence of it. In- 
 deed, if he had attempted the real Roman method, he would soon 
 have swallowed up the finances at the disposal of the princes and 
 subjects of the sixteenth century. The resources which King Henry 
 II. was able to apply to the construction of all his royal buildings 
 would not, even in ten years perhaps, have sufficed to erect a single 
 establishment like the baths of Agrippa or of Antoninus Caracalla. 
 
 In fact, to build to-day an edifice, or rather a group of edifices, 
 like the baths of Antoninus Caracalla, of which we have given a plan, 
 and to decorate them with true Roman luxury, would cost not less 
 than sixty-four million dollars ; for these constructions covered about 
 four hundred thousand feet of ground, and certainly it could not 
 cost less than one hundred and sixty dollars per foot on an average 
 to build them, when we take into account the granite and marble 
 columns, the entablatures and facings of marble, the grilles of bronze, 
 the mosaics, the painted stucco, the subterranean works, the terraces, 
 the roofs of lead, the ornamental sculpture, the statues and bas-reliefs. 
 Now the architects of the Renaissance, although they employed 
 neither the enormous masses of rubble nor the precious materials of 
 the Romans, although they were content with a mere appearance of 
 Roman work, even under these favorable conditions and to finish a few 
 comparatively small buildings, taxed their resources to the utmost. 
 
 The further these architects got from the mediaeval methods of 
 building, and the nearer they undertook to approach the methods of 
 the Roman Empire, the greater was the disproportion between the 
 financial resources at their disposal and the architecture they would 
 reproduce. This explains the reaction which took place at the begin- 
 ning of the seventeenth century, after the religious wars, in favor ot 
 
THE STYLE OE THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 307 
 
 the mediaeval methods of construction. Architects were constrained 
 to return to plain walls pierced with windows, and to floors and roofs 
 of wood for public and private buildings alike ; they abandoned their 
 vast vaulted porticos, and no longer undertook to build such chateaux 
 as Saint-Germain, La Muette, and Challuau, covered by terraced 
 roofs, supported on vaults, and abutted by thick walls pierced with 
 arcades ; in their interiors, they returned to wainscotings ot wood, 
 and avoided those stucco embellishments by which they had sought 
 to recall the grand marble decoration of the Roman architecture of 
 the empire. In their exteriors they renounced the superimposition 
 of classic orders, whether of pilasters or columns, so much in vogue 
 in the middle of the preceding century, and contented themselves 
 with “ chains ” and quoins of stone, and with brick facings between ; 
 they reduced the projection of their cornices and string-courses, and 
 ceased to divide their facades with pilasters covered with arabesques. 
 Interior architecture became more severe and quiet, indicating clearly 
 the methods of construction. After all its efforts to imitate antique 
 fragments, and after having submitted to the influence of the Italian 
 Renaissance, architecture recovered its French physiognomy in per- 
 fect harmony with the society of the time. But it never recovered 
 its perfection of workmanship. 
 
 This degradation of workmanship was the result of several causes. 
 In the Middle Ages, as the decoration and apparent form could not 
 lie separated from the structure, the masters of the works were accus- 
 tomed to trace the mouldings and ornaments upon the patterns, by 
 which the workman moulded or sculptured every stone before putting 
 it in its place. It is not possible to erect a Gothic monument in any 
 other way ; and thus, in Gothic times, the workmen became very skil- 
 ful and intelligent masons and excellent stone-cutters, and the sculp- 
 ture being so treated, the character of the decoration was compelled to 
 fit the character of the masonry. This having become a fixed habit 
 during the course of centuries, at the beginning of the Renaissance, 
 although the new form adopted did not exact any such procedure, the 
 old method was still adhered to for some time ; but the new profiles 
 and ornamental sculpture required by the imported style were more 
 surely and less expensively executed on the masonry after it was 
 laid ; the Renaissance architects therefore soon got into the habit 
 of building their walls “ in the rough ” and finishing them af- 
 terwards. Hence the necessity of adapting the masonry to the 
 
39S 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 fashion of ornament, and to the various architectural members, became 
 less imperious ; and it may be accepted as a general rule, that, wher- 
 ever in the execution of a work there is no immediate necessity of 
 observing a principle, the principle itself, however good, falls into 
 disuse and is forgotten. Still, up to the middle of the sixteenth 
 century, there were many skilful architects, like Philibert de l’Orme, 
 who remained wise and conscientious observers of good methods, and 
 continued to subordinate their masonry to their architectural forms ; 
 but these were the exceptions to the general rule. Many of their 
 contemporaries left the care of laying up a façade in masonry to the 
 workmen ; and, after this had been done more or less roughly, they 
 proceeded, regardless of the character of the ashlar, to have their 
 profiles and embellishments cut and finished upon it as it stood. 
 From this negligence there often resulted a complete want of har- 
 mony between the masonry and the style of decoration adopted. The 
 craft of the mason, thus no longer exacting from him a complete 
 understanding of the ultimate effect to be produced by his masonry, 
 gradually fell into the hands of ignorant workmen, and most of the 
 French edifices built at about the close of the sixteenth century bear 
 the marks of this utter disregard of common-sense and even of the 
 conditions of stability. A conspicuous example of this is in the 
 church of Saint Eustache at Paris. For the same reasons the stone- 
 cutters, being obliged to work on the rough wall after it had been laid, 
 and being necessarily less carefully watched and less closely criticised, 
 became negligent and careless. Then the people, impatient at the 
 long delay of the scaffolding, hurried the workmen who occupied it 
 to a completion, in order that it might be removed and the work 
 exposed to observation ; as regards the results, there was no severity 
 of criticism ; under these circumstances, the ornamental work, done 
 at so much a yard, was often left incomplete or roughly finished, 
 without any regard for the courses and joints of the masonry. 
 
 Gradually that school of sculptors, which had been so brilliant 
 during the Middle Ages and again through the first halt of the six- 
 teenth century, lost its power, lost its sentiment of monumental art, 
 and became a mere trade. The types, inspired by antique art and 
 French traditions, so graceful and often so pure at the beginning ot 
 the Renaissance, finally became vulgarized and the merest shadows oi 
 their former selves, — shadows without style and without character. 
 When, at the close of the reign ot Henry II. and during that ot 
 
INTERIOR DECORATIONS OF THE RENAISSANCE. 399 
 
 Louis XIII., architecture assumed a certain vigor, a new youth, it did 
 so by requiring from all its artisans, from its masons, its stone-cutters, 
 and sculptors, a more careful study and a greater respect for art. But, 
 during this period, it would seem that the principal efforts of the 
 architects were confined to interior decorations. 
 
 In fact the Renaissance, up to that time, had not succeeded in 
 giving to interior architecture any characteristic physiognomy ; in 
 this respect it either continued to follow in the tracks of the preced- 
 ing century, or indulged in mixed compositions, which, although 
 evidently the works of men of skill and taste, evinced that absence 
 of completeness and grandeur which is the mark of an undigested 
 system. The most flourishing periods of the Renaissance had been 
 succeeded by so many political agitations and disasters, that the 
 princes and wealthy citizens had hardly time to complete the resi- 
 dences they had begun, much less to finish their interior decorations ; 
 the artists naturally, therefore, labored under peculiar disadvantages 
 in their efforts to establish a complete art, applicable to halls, saloons, 
 and other apartments. But, under the most favorable circumstances, 
 if a system of architecture as regarded exteriors and façades could 
 be modified in a few years, it was a much more difficult task to 
 adopt a corresponding modification in the manner of dividing and 
 decorating them within, as such a modification involved a change in 
 society itself, its domestic habits and daily manners and customs. 
 A nobleman, who required his architect to build the facades of his 
 house according to the antique , would have been very ninth incom- 
 moded if his chamber or the hall of his palace had also been arranged 
 according to the antique type. From this we can readily understand 
 how it happened that the plans of the Renaissance chateaux pre- 
 served, in their interior distributions, all the peculiarities of the 
 châteaux of the fifteenth century. 
 
 But the tranquillity which was re-established in the kingdom after 
 the religious wars, during which the privations and hardships of 
 campaign life had made a notable interruption in the daily domestic 
 habits of the nobility, was peculiarly well adapted to a fundamental 
 change in interior architecture. The opportunity thus afforded to 
 rebuild, restore, or finish the châteaux was improved to perfect also 
 a severe and calm style of interior decoration, distinguished for the 
 grandeur and unity of a well-understood system, very superior in 
 every respect to the style in vogue under Francis I. and Henry IL, 
 
400 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 which, was uncertain and confused in character, now overloaded with 
 detail, and now poor and bald to excess.*' The interiors of the apart- 
 ments, known as those of Anne of Austria at Fontainebleau ; parts 
 of the older rooms of the Luxembourg and of the Hôtel Mazarin, 
 now the Imperial Library ; certain portions of the Hôtel Lambert, 
 especially the gallery ; the lower floor of the gallery of Apollo at the 
 Louvre, — all these, belonging to the beginning of the fifteenth cen- 
 tury, are remarkable specimens of an architecture singularly adapted 
 to palatial interiors. They exhibit richness without confusion, a 
 perfect harmony between the sculpture and the painting, a perfect 
 correspondence of scale between the details and the general propor- 
 tions, and, withal, an air of grandeur, which we look for in vain in 
 the interior domestic decorations of the Gothic or the early Renais- 
 sance periods. 
 
 Under Louis XIV. w T e find these beautiful characteristics well 
 preserved, as in the interiors of the château of Vaux, of the Apollo 
 gallery of the Louvre, and even of portions of Versailles ; but it was 
 not long before the sentiment of grandeur, always tending to tur- 
 giclity and inflation of style, made its appearance on every side, as 
 we can readily see on referring to the work of Le Pautre ; the char- 
 acter of workmanship became debased, and sculpture and painting 
 gradually lost their truly monumental qualities in a constant strain- 
 ing after exaggerated effects. By one of those strange transitions 
 of fashion so peculiar to France, this turgidity, this universal and 
 intrusive majesty of style, was exchanged presently for an excessive 
 meagreness and delicacy of details. By the multiplication of its 
 lines interior decoration became, as was natural, a mere flexible dress, 
 apt to assume forms entirely opposed to the true structure, and read- 
 ily adapting itself to every caprice of fashion and every fancy of 
 
 * I trust the opinions here expressed regarding the decoration of the Renaissance will not he 
 misunderstood. There certainly remain to us from the epoch of these two monarchs some very 
 beautiful architectural arrangements, as in the gallery of Henry II. at Fontainebleau; but this 
 is a frank imitation of Italian art applied to the traditions of the great halls of the French medi- 
 eval châteaux. As for the gallery of Francis I. in the same residence, it exhibits a complete 
 want of harmony between the scale of the details and the general dimensions ; it is true that, 
 as compositions, the sculptures are charming in themselves, but their boldness of execution and 
 their importance as apparent supports are not justified by the delicately panelled ceiling of wood 
 which they seem to sustain. I refer to the gallery as it was before the restorations, which have 
 made it still more shocking. In the cabinet of Francis I., in the same château, there is evidence 
 of great indecision and fickleness of decorative treatment. However graceful its panels and its 
 little pilasters of cabinet-work, there is nothing about it which does not recall the wainscoted 
 chambers of Louis II., although frittered away with fatiguing combinations. 
 
CHARACTERISTIC'S OP LOUIS XIV. STYLE. 
 
 401 
 
 embellishment. Elegance alone remained, as the last reflection of 
 the purer arts of the past, the surviving expression of the national 
 character. 
 
 Towards the later half of the seventeenth century the architects, 
 in composing palaces, châteaux, and mansions, concerned themselves 
 very little about arrangements and adaptations for the convenience 
 of the inhabitants ; they were preoccupied by the idea of obtaining 
 grand interior effects and majestic ranges of apartments, sacrificing 
 comfort to show ; to such an extent was this carried, that the domes- 
 tic interiors of the sixteenth century can be much more readily 
 adapted to our uses and habits of comfort than can the residences 
 of the time of Louis XIV. Everybody at Versailles, except the 
 king, was badly lodged ; there were no passages, no convenient stair- 
 cases, no wardrobes, but an immense number of great sombre rooms. 
 The memoirs of the time supply us with many curious details about 
 the discomfort of most of the lodgings appropriated to the use of the 
 court. The service was difficult even for the grand rooms of state. 
 But these wretched interiors were concealed behind grand symmet- 
 rical palatial façades ; and this, after all, was the great end of archi- 
 tecture at that time. Erom the inconvenience in the interior arrange- 
 ments of the private houses at the close of the seventeenth century, 
 it would seem to be justifiable to conclude that the apartments before 
 that period must have been even more incommodious. But the con- 
 clusion would not be true. During the fifteenth and sixteenth cen- 
 turies considerations of comfort and convenience controlled, not only 
 the interior, but the exterior of the house. The manners and customs 
 of the time dictated the plan, and the plan imposed the form of the 
 building. This was the prevailing architectural principle of antiquity 
 and the Middle Ages. But it was laid aside when academical doc- 
 trines began to govern the arts and direct their development ; it was 
 disputed in practice, although no one ever undertook formally to 
 deny its importance and its truth. 
 
 2G 
 
NINTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 ON THE PRINCIPLES AND INFORMATION NECESSARY TO ARCHITECTS. 
 
 F, in modern times, we occasionally see at Paris and 
 in some of the larger cities of France public and pri- 
 vate structures well and intelligently built, and in a 
 fair style of art, it must be confessed that, in the prov- 
 inces and smaller towns, there is constantly a great 
 deal of building going on contrary to the most ele- 
 mentary principles of architecture. Between a Parisian mansion and 
 the town hall of a rural borough there is not only the distance which 
 separates luxury from poverty, but the impassable abyss fixed between 
 a refined civilization and the most degraded barbarism, — not the 
 barbarism which is the expression of an imperfect social state, but 
 that which is the forerunner of decomposition. Those architects 
 whose official duty it is to examine the mass of designs handed in to 
 be executed in the provinces will bear me out in the statement, that, 
 out of twenty of these designs, where one is passable, half the rest are 
 below mediocrity, and the other half manifest a complete ignorance, 
 ] will not say of art, but of the most commonplace practical knowl- 
 edge. At no epoch in France, before the present century, has such 
 a spectacle been exhibited. 
 
 Without going back into antiquity, the most modest house, the 
 humblest chapel in mediaeval France was as much a work of art as 
 the baronial castle or the bishop’s cathedral. Whether large or small, 
 splendid or plain, they were the work, as it were, of the same skilful 
 hand and the same quick intelligence. But in modern times the art 
 of architecture has ceased to animate the extremities of the political 
 body, and has been concentrated in the great centres of population ; 
 
ARCHITECTURE IN FRENCH PROVINCES. 
 
 403 
 
 the more lavish and luxurious it is in the metropolis, the more mean 
 and miserable has it become everywhere else. 
 
 This is a serious evil, and its causes may be specified thus : first, 
 an official administrative organization little suited to diffuse a knowl- 
 edge of the arts among the people ; second, the absence of a thorough 
 method of art-education ; third, the lowering of the standard of taste 
 among the upper classes. While France was divided into provinces, 
 each of these had its capital, and each capital its distinctive school 
 of architecture. Orleans, Poitiers, Rouen, Troyes, Limoges, Bor- 
 deaux, Toulouse, Lyons, Dijon, etc., had each, like Paris, its school 
 and its artists, with their local peculiarities ; and these schools, even 
 if they were in the second rank, animated the provinces to which 
 they belonged, and spread their roots into the most retired districts. 
 The governors of these provinces were great lords, who, by position as 
 well as education, were ambitious to render their administration illus- 
 trious. The corporation-spirit, was kept alive, especially among the 
 artists and crafts interested in building, and thus the local traditions 
 were preserved in the most capable hands and directed to the best 
 uses. The various corporations knew, aided, and criticised each 
 other. 
 
 Under the reign of Louis XIV., the freedom of these provincial 
 schools was for the first time subjected to limitations. That monarch 
 included the arts in his administrative system of general direction ; 
 provincial monopolies were encouraged and all liberty was stifled. 
 One Lebrun became the general superintendent of every production 
 of art in France. This system was of a nature to give a great im- 
 pulse to art, for a certain time, — a character of unity which belonged 
 to the spirit of the reign ; it was, in fact, a Renaissance of the system 
 established under the Roman Empire; the results were naturally the 
 same in both cases ; art, thus subjected to official direction, and estab- 
 lished as part of the great administrative machine, rapidly declined. 
 
 We can easily see to what depths the official art of the empire had 
 fallen under Constantine ; and, in like manner, it is very evident that, 
 in an artistic point of view, the monuments built at the end of the 
 reign of Louis XIV. cannot be favorably compared with those con- 
 structed in the first half of the seventeenth century. All the opera- 
 tions of the mind need perfect liberty for their wholesome develop- 
 ment ; and art, which is much more an effort of the mind than a 
 labor of the hand, inevitably fades as soon as it is conscious of any 
 
404 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 artificial restraint ; forced in a hot-house, it loses its savor, and ceases 
 to grow naturally or to produce wholesome fruit. 
 
 Now the architecture of to-day is subject to a species of intellectual 
 government much more strict even than that established under Louis 
 XIV. ; it did not share in the revolution of 1789. Isolated, indefi- 
 nite, a secret science, it has changed the yoke of Lebrun — a yoke 
 which was at least imposed with somewhat of grandeur and original- 
 ity — for another much more vulgar and exacting, belonging neither 
 to the spirit of our time nor yet to the spirit of our country. Certain 
 paths of investigation and experiment are closed to the architect, and 
 he seeks in vain for any intelligent direction with regard to the few 
 which are left open to him ; he is warned to take heed to his steps, 
 but he is supplied with no guiding light ; he is told what he must 
 not study, but no one has undertaken publicly to lay down a course 
 which he can follow with safety and propriety. From the official 
 direction of Lebrun, which was bigoted and tyrannical, but, at least, 
 had the merit of power, there is only left a servile subjection to many 
 i rresponsible masters. 
 
 Architecture, debated and bandied about among officials, amateurs, 
 academicians, professors who do not profess, archaeologists, antiqua- 
 ries with a leaning for classic antiquity, and antiquaries with a leaning 
 for the Middle Ages, men of science, economists, and monomaniacs, 
 in order to live at all, must make a concession to this one, must not 
 offend that, must avoid the persecution of sects, must grope among 
 prejudices, must listen to everybody’s advice, must direct all its move- 
 ments in constant fear of envy, hatred, and malice ; and when its 
 work is finished, no one is satisfied, and the whole town repeats the 
 familiar complaint, “ Why do not our architects create an architecture 
 which belongs to our time and our country P Here is another build- 
 ins which is neither beautiful nor correct.” And yet, in the face of 
 this constant and natural demand for a national art, the architectural 
 precedents which are peculiarly national are the only ones which are 
 not officially opened to study, the only ones, in fact, which are espe- 
 cially excluded and proscribed ; a new and national style is asked 
 for, and yet we continue to send our pupils, after an insignificant and 
 insufficient course of study at home, to measure and restore the monu- 
 ments of Rome and Attica, — monuments the study of which can 
 only be useful to minds prepared bv extensive study to criticise se- 
 verely, to reject with discretion, and to class with discrimination. 
 
FAILURE OF THE SCHOOL OF FINE ARTS. 
 
 405 
 
 If an original design is prepared, inspired by new ideas, it must 
 be submitted to the examination of persons who, by conviction, or 
 rather by non-conviction, are the enemies of every species of innova- 
 tion and of every new application of ancient styles. It is admitted 
 indeed,' theoretically, that the arts of Greece are types of eternal 
 beauty with principles of eternal truth ; but those who pretend to 
 make these principles prevail in modern architecture, not by encour- 
 aging their development, but by restricting them with conventional 
 rules, forget that Greek artists produced their masterpieces under 
 the protection of liberty, while the arts of Rome, under the restraint 
 of administrative discipline, continually declined from Augustus to 
 Constantine. 
 
 Instead of availing ourselves of the immense resources furnished by 
 modern industry, and by the increased facilities of transportation, to 
 produce a new style which shall be the natural expression of our era 
 and our civilization, we straiten and limit our means under an archi- 
 tectural system theorized out of the past, and conventionalized by 
 academical usage. It is a common complaint that architects have no 
 ideas, and therefore everybody deems himself privileged to impose 
 upon them his own notions. Scientific men are summoned to give 
 their advice in matters of art, and mining engineers volunteer their 
 opinions about the form of a capital. If a statesman is consulted 
 regarding the financial question involved in the erection of a public 
 work, he takes occasion to declare that he does not like pilasters, or 
 that he will not have buttresses under any circumstances ; he prefers 
 plain walls, which cost a great deal more, and when the monument 
 is finished accordingly, he complains that the architect is unqualified 
 for his duties, and that his flat walls are like those of a barrack, and 
 that they ought to have been decorated with engaged columns, which 
 in fact are a form of the very buttresses the use of which had been 
 interdicted. 
 
 There is indeed a school of architecture in Trance, but in this 
 school there is no course of architecture taught, or, if by chance there 
 is a course set before the pupils, it is restricted to a few general 
 notions about one of the phases of the art. As for the superintend- 
 ence of the works, the organization and administration of the work- 
 men ; as for a philosophical study of the history of architecture in 
 its relations to the various phases of civilization, and an examination 
 into the causes of its development or decline, with a view to a more 
 
406 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 logical and reasonable application of precedent in actual practice ; as 
 for the economy of the science of building, teaching how all the 
 local resources of material and skill are to be most' judiciously applied 
 in every case ; as for the art of so designing that every motive ex- 
 pressed by the artist can be explained and defended by him intelli- 
 gently and clearly ; as for those grand liberal principles, which, when 
 properly diffused, should develop mental activity and encourage a 
 reasonable and actual progress of architecture, — these things form 
 no part of the official course. 
 
 Amateurs can never obtain a true standard of criticism except by 
 contact with artists ; but to form the taste of men of the world, who 
 may be in a position to exercise an influence over art, it is necessary 
 that architects should know how to explain themselves, and to give 
 the reasons why this or that motive or expression is adopted in 
 their designs ; and to be able to do this implies that their concep- 
 tions must be capable of explanation and defence. But how can we 
 expect architects to attain this end, who have been accustomed from 
 their youth to employ forms imposed upon them under peril of ostra- 
 cism, but never explained to them in a sensible and reasonable 
 manner? What are they to say to a client who declares that he will 
 not have such a façade, when they know not themselves why they 
 adopted it rather than another ? They are silent because the aca- 
 demical system has stifled all independence of thought, and has 
 repressed every tendency to reason and discuss. 
 
 The amateur, gradually habituated to the mute submission of the 
 artist, from a consulting client has become a capricious and exacting 
 master ; he naturally exaggerates the force and accuracy of his taste 
 and imposes it upon the architect, who is not able to defend his own. 
 Tyrants can only exist where there is resignation. In the absence 
 of a solid and rational system of instruction, the architect has been 
 able to impose no restraint upon the amateur, unenlightened by free 
 discussion and by rational explanations of the art ; and in the ab- 
 sence of such a standard of criticism, the few sparks of independence 
 which may be left to the architect are liable to be extinguished by 
 the first opposition of caprice; thus we are all afloat upon a sea of 
 doubt, without compass or rudder. Even if the architectural school 
 of France had kept pace with the furthest advance of modern science, 
 and were familiar with all the requirements of modern progress, it 
 would, by the principle of its organization, be none the less a sort 
 
I’l. Will 
 
 THE PALACE OF THE TUILERIES. 
 
 PART OF THE GARDEN FRONT, IN THE DESIGN OF PHILIBERT DE L’ORME. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 </> 
 
 
 
FAILURE OF THE SCHOOL OF FINE ARTS. 
 
 407 
 
 of academical gymnasium, in which a few select pupils, who have 
 had patience to wait until they could contend for the grand prize, 
 would arrive at distinction ; but as for the mass of students, after 
 having gone through a ten years’ course of projects on impossible and 
 impracticable* architectural programmes, they would have before them 
 only the prospect of a provincial practice or a limited field of private 
 enterprise. Now our system does not prepare men to fulfil these 
 functions. They leave the school with a few practical ideas and a 
 great many prejudices, no knowledge of the local materials and means 
 of our country, a profound disdain, such as only ignorance can feel, 
 for those periods of art which are condemned by the school and 
 which are difficult to study and understand, no idea of the conduct 
 and administration of works, no method, and a mania for producing 
 monuments , when their business simply is to build strongly, con- 
 veniently, and comfortably. Thus the assiduous pupil, who perhaps 
 has had no opportunity of enjoying the distinction of being sent to 
 Rome, very naturally shrinks from practising architecture in districts 
 removed from the architectural centre ; he prefers to occupy a second- 
 ary and irresponsible position at Paris, and to obtain precarious 
 employment there, rather than to undertake the career of a provincial 
 architect, which, without practical experience and a thorough educa- 
 tion, would find him wanting in many essential respects. Hence the 
 superabundance of artists at Paris, and the extreme paucity of them 
 in the departments. 
 
 A school of architecture, however thorough it may be in teach- 
 ing the principles of the art (and it is not thorough at all in Paris), 
 is incomplete without such a course of instruction as shall develop 
 among those destined to become architects a sense of personal respon- 
 sibility, and, consequently, a knowledge of' their duties, an authority 
 firmly based upon a familiarity with all the trades to which an archi- 
 tect is obliged to have recourse in practice. We have a natural ten- 
 dency, with our somewhat Southern temperament, to surrender to 
 others our individual liberty. Many capable men in Prance, many 
 men of genius, shrink at the idea of assuming the weight of personal 
 responsibility. This national peculiarity gives us excellent soldiers, 
 and was the foundation of the success of those religious establish- 
 ments which, however, our habits, our legislation, our social state, 
 have been strong enough to abolish forever. Let this same Southern 
 blood in our veins encourage us to fight against this tendency of our 
 
408 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 national character, — a tendency opposed to all intellectual progress, 
 and, if allowed to get the upper hand, the certain precursor of na- 
 tional decline. 
 
 It would seem that a proper method of architectural education 
 should not he confined to giving to the country every September one 
 architect, officially declared capable, but should rather diffuse profes- 
 sional knowledge and the feeling for professional duties among all 
 the pupils, whether destined to be architects to the state, or for gen- 
 eral practice, and should give them an exact knowledge of the prac- 
 tical responsibilities they are to assume while maintaining the dignity 
 of art. 
 
 What would be thought of a military school so organized as to 
 form only marshals of France, leaving it to chance to supply the 
 country with captains and lieutenants? 
 
 This is the reason why the remoter districts of France are deprived 
 of capable architects and, consequently, of a respectable architecture. 
 If we would have such an architecture, we must make architects so 
 thoroughly and liberally versed in all the branches of professional 
 knowledge as to be able to develop all the independence essential to 
 the public and private interests of art. If it is recognized as a fact 
 that the school is and ever will be powerless to form such men in the 
 midst of society, and must necessarily cause questions of persons to 
 override questions of principles in matters of art, rather than maintain 
 such an establishment, let us shut it up and trust to private interests 
 for the education of the architects necessary to a great country ; this 
 would at least have the advantage of liberating the public mind from 
 the illusions which possess it, under the present system, of restoring 
 to architectural education the perfect liberty which is alone consistent 
 with healthy progress, of not supplying an asylum for patient medi- 
 ocrity at the expense of the state, and of opening the whole range 
 of architectural precedent to intelligent investigation and study, leav- 
 ing to each student the responsibility of choice. 
 
 With this preface, in order that the real situation of the architect 
 in the midst of this nineteenth century may be understood, let us now 
 proceed to examine into the nature and extent ot the knowledge 
 requisite to the modern architect. This knowledge is of two sorts, 
 the theoretical and the purely practical. The theoretical branch has 
 been singularly extended within a century by the activity ot archæo- 
 
STUDY OF PERSPECTIVE AND SHADOWS. 
 
 409 
 
 logical investigations and the discoveries which have resulted from 
 them. If these discoveries only served to gratify curiosity, we should 
 not treat of them here ; but, as they have been made with the pecul- 
 iarly analytical spirit of modern philosophy, they should have, and 
 indeed do have, a marked influence over the arts, and over architec- 
 ture in especial. Thus, no one can deny that geometry is the base 
 of all architectural design, and archaeological investigations have dis- 
 closed how this science has been alike applied to styles of architecture 
 apparently very different in character; these investigations, as we 
 shall presently take occasion to explain, have also brought to light the 
 fact that all the architectures of nations belonging to the great his- 
 tory of the world are but various consequences deduced from the same 
 dominating principle, the bond of brotherhood between all the styles. 
 
 The architect, then, should not only possess an extended and accu- 
 rate knowledge of descriptive geometry, but he should also be suffi- 
 ciently familiar with perspective to be able to present his design, in 
 whole or in part, under all its aspects. It should be for him a prac- 
 tical science, so that when studying his geometrical projections he 
 may be able to have constantly in mind the effect wliich will actually 
 be produced to the eye by his projections, the heights of his various 
 stories, the lay of the land, the slope of his roofs, the thickness of his 
 walls, etc. It was the custom of the architects of the past, when they 
 had prepared their ground plan, to make themselves familiar with all 
 its possible developments in elevation by perspective studies of its 
 various combinations, thus wisely avoiding the embarrassments of un- 
 expected effects. If the practice of perspective studies is useful, the 
 study of shadows is not less so ; 1 do not refer to the conventional 
 system of projecting shadows in architectural designs, but to the 
 shadows really to be cast by the sun on the monument in its actual 
 position. The architects of antiquity, of the Middle Ages, and of the 
 Renaissance evidently took these effects into careful consideration ; 
 but it has been reserved for modern times to commit the solecism of 
 constructing, on a northern exposure, façades, so covered with delicate 
 details of slight projection that the sun can never be in a position to 
 define them with shadows, the trouble and time expended in them 
 being therefore thrown away. In previous Discourses we have indi- 
 cated how carefully the Greeks took account of the light which would 
 be shed upon their buildings, and how delicately they profited by the 
 shadows. The mediaeval architects were scarcely less observant of the 
 
410 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 direction of the light in arranging the projections of their profiles 
 and the reliefs of their sculpture. It must be admitted that this 
 refinement of observation is not common in our days, and it rarely 
 occurs to a modern architect when called upon to reproduce on a 
 northern exposure a façade whose effect is striking only because ex- 
 posed to the phenomena of a southern aspect, to reply, “ The effect 
 which pleases you cannot be obtained in this position without a modi- 
 fication of the design, as the orientation is different.” On the con- 
 trary, it does not occur to him to say a word on the subject ; the 
 facade is built according to orders, and the client is surprised to find 
 it a mere gray and monotonous mass, instead of sparkling with that 
 brilliant play of light and shade which had seduced him in the origi- 
 nal. So, with a certain amount of reason, indeed, he stigmatizes the 
 architect as a bungler. 
 
 It is not enough for the architect, in designing, simply to accumu- 
 late the results of his sketches and drawings ; he must use reason 
 and common-sense. It is well for him carefully to study a building 
 whose aspect has fascinated him, but it is better for him to examine 
 into the sources of his fascination ; for a building which is charming 
 when situated at A, on a height, surrounded by trees or by low struc- 
 tures, and disposed towards the sun in a certain manner, would not 
 be pleasing at B, in a low place, hemmed in by high edifices, and with 
 a different exposure. The Greek temples and the mediaeval churches 
 were arranged with regard to the points of the compass ; and if, in 
 this, there was a religious motive, it must be admitted that the archi- 
 tects largely profited by the necessity. In regard to proportions, the 
 observation of site and scale is still more important. In antiquity, 
 public edifices were large as compared with ordinary houses ; and, in 
 planting them, especial care was taken to surround them with acces- 
 sories which should give full value to their superior size. The same 
 rule was observed in our mediaeval cities ; the houses were small, but 
 every structure destined for religious or civil service assumed a con- 
 siderable relative importance. Under these circumstances the monu- 
 ment preserved its own proportions, and its harmony was undisturbed 
 by any rival surroundings. But in modern cities these conditions 
 are not regarded. If a house is to be built, a site is chosen sur- 
 rounded by buildings all of equal height ; then the architect, with a 
 frontage of one hundred and twenty feet to occupy on a street ninety 
 feet wide, proposes to himself to imitate a certain lovely palace, with 
 
STUDY OF PROPORTIONS. 
 
 411 
 
 a frontage of only sixty feet, situated on a little square, surrounded 
 by low porticos, and surmounted by a single story ; the bays of the 
 palace are five feet wide, and his must be extended to ten. But, un- 
 dismayed by these inconsistencies, his sketches are brought out, and, 
 with their aid, the work of inspiration begins ; that is to say, he so 
 tortures an unhappy model, which was charming in the original, as 
 to produce a work without character or name. We should therefore 
 copy and collect materials without stint, not to cut them up or stitch 
 them together at hazard, but to fill our minds with the methods 
 adopted by the old masters to produce a certain effect in a given 
 locality and under particular conditions. 
 
 All that has been written since and perhaps before Vitruvius about 
 proportions may be summed up in this : there were certain propor- 
 tions conventionally accepted in antiquity as good, and the best we 
 can do is to accept them again to-day. But what is the antiquity 
 alluded to ? Is it that of the Athenians ? It needs but a glance to 
 see that the proportions accepted among them, as, for example, those 
 of the orders, were independent of dimensions ; but I cannot find any 
 indications that these fixed proportions of the orders were ever rigor- 
 ously followed by the Hellenic people during the century and a half 
 of their greatest glory. These artists seem to me rather to have es- 
 tablished an harmonic system , not a formula, such as the Romans, like 
 true engineers, set up at a later period. 
 
 But, going back still further, we can see in the monuments of an- 
 cient Egypt also the influence of an harmonic method, but nowhere 
 any evidence that the artists of Thebes subjected themselves to any 
 conventional formula of proportions*; I confess I should be very sorry 
 to have it proved to me that any artistic people were ever under the 
 dominion of formulas ; it would cause them to fall very much in my 
 esteem, for where would be the merit of the artist or the art controlled 
 by any arbitrary and artificial standard ? The Italian artists of the 
 epoch of the Renaissance undertook, in their books at least, to estab- 
 lish positive proportions for the orders, but for the orders alone ; 
 in the use of these orders, and in the general combinations of their 
 designs, we find them free to follow the dictates of their own taste 
 and the requirements of reason and necessity. 
 
 There doubtless existed in the Middle Ages, and probably in 
 antiquity, certain methods of establishing proportion in architecture. 
 We have very little information on this subject ; traditions which 
 
412 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 have fallen into oblivion, and an official education, which amounts to 
 nothing at all, have caused us to lose the thread which guided the 
 architects of old through that labyrinth of mysterious knowledge so 
 often explored by the craft spirit of our ancestors. For the last two 
 centuries it has been the custom to disregard as unworthy of notice 
 the methods employed by our predecessors in the art of architecture, 
 by means of which they were enabled to produce their great master- 
 pieces. Ignorance has found its revenge in disdain ; but, in this 
 nineteenth century, to disdain is not to prove. For geometrical 
 methods, profoundly reasoned and consecrated by long experience, 
 certain empirical formulas have been substituted, of which no more 
 satisfactory reason or explanation can be given, than that they 
 have been transmitted to us at second or third hand. The modest 
 master -workmen of the Middle Ages, who are superciliously looked 
 down upon now by the authorities, did not pretend, as we do, to 
 imitate antique art ; but there is reason to suspect that they not only 
 understood, but practised the principles of antique art much better 
 than we do to-day. 
 
 I shall undertake to prove this ; but in order to do so, as the sub- 
 ject is worth the trouble, I hope I shall be pardoned if I find it 
 necessary to refer my readers to a somewhat distant antiquity. 
 
 “ There is good reason to conjecture,” said Plutarch, in his “Trea- 
 tise concerning Isis and Osiris,” “ that the Egyptians were accus- 
 tomed to compare the nature of the universe to the triangle, as the 
 most beautiful of all figures. Plato also, in his work on the Repub- 
 lic, made use of this figure when composing what he called a nup- 
 tial diagram ; the triangle to which he referred was a right-angled 
 triangle with the following properties : the side, which made the right 
 angle, had three parts, the base four, and the hypothenuse five, the 
 latter representing the combined force of the two others ; the per- 
 pendicular he compared to the male, the base to the female, and the 
 hypothenuse to their joint offspring.” Now this demonstration is 
 of very great importance, as I shall presently take occasion to show. 
 
 The obscurity into which we have been plunged by the irrational 
 but absolute maxims of the age of Louis XIV. has lately received 
 considerable light from the researches of certain learned Germans 
 
 * It is evident that a rectangular triangle with a hase of 4 parts, the square of which is 16, 
 and a side of 3 parts, the square of which is 9, must have an hypothenuse of 5 parts, whose square 
 is 25 : 16 + 9 = 25. 
 
THEORIES OP PROPORTIONS. 
 
 41 a 
 
 and from the writings of a very limited number of Frenchmen. M. 
 Henszlmann, in a work entiled Théorie des proportions appliquées dans 
 V Architect are, has prepared the way for discoveries of undoubted 
 value ; and although, with the monuments of the past before us, we 
 cannot adopt his system as a whole, it is certain that he has done 
 much to clear the path for those who may give to his principles a 
 more rational development. M. Aurès, an engineer-in-chief of roads 
 and bridges, in his Nouvelle théorie déduite da texte meme de Vitrave, 
 has lately * published a very curious statement regarding the relative 
 proportions of the orders. This author has established, for example, 
 in an incontestable manner, that the Greeks took their module or 
 unit of admeasurement from a diameter of the shaft near its middle 
 instead of from the diameter of the base, according to the custom of 
 modern times. lie thus demonstrates mathematically the justice of 
 the measures given by Vitruvius. But this is not the place to enter 
 into an examination of such demonstrations. It is useful to know 
 the proportions given by the ancients to their orders, but certainly it 
 would be much more useful to discover the generative principles of 
 these proportions, not only as used in the edifices of antiquity and 
 the Middle Ages, but even, to a certain extent, in those of the 
 Renaissance, although, in the latter epoch, the clew which led to 
 those pure traditions was lost, and architecture began to be aban- 
 doned to the vagaries of fancy. 
 
 It is a mistake to suppose that architectural proportions are the 
 result of instinct. If absolute rules and geometrical principles, in 
 application, gratify the sentiment of the ege, it is because sight is a 
 sense, like hearing, which can never suffer a discord without being 
 offended, however little culture the ear may have received in music. 
 I know not why a discord offends my ear, but he who is skilled in 
 counterpoint can demonstrate to me mathematically that my ear ought 
 to be shocked. It would therefore be strange indeed if architec- 
 ture, the daughter of geometry, could not geometrically demonstrate 
 how it happens that the eye is offended by a fault of proportions in 
 a building ; but I cannot regard the empirical methods of Vignola 
 and his successors as explaining the phenomenon. We must' conse- 
 quently examine this subject from a much higher and, above all, 
 from a much more logical standpoint. 
 
 AVe have seen, from the text of Plutarch just quoted, that, accord- 
 
 * Nismes, 1862 . 
 
414 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ing to the ideas of the Egyptians, who were excellent geometers, the 
 triangle is a perfect figure. But the equilateral triangle is that 
 which, of all the rest, most satisfies the eye, on account of its peculiar 
 properties : its three equal angles, its three equal sides, its division 
 of the circumference of the circle into three equal parts or into the 
 six equal parts of the inscribed hexagon. There is no geometrical 
 figure which conveys greater satisfaction to the mind, none which 
 better fulfils those conditions of stability and regularity which appeal 
 most agreeably to the eye and mind. Now it is easy to see, that the 
 Egyptians employed the equilateral triangle to obtain more agreeable 
 proportions in the more important members of their architecture. 
 Thus, if, according to the usual custom in their oldest buildings, 
 they supported their lintels upon an order of pillars whose voids 
 were equal to its solids, the proportions of the heights of these pil- 
 
 Fig. 82. 
 
 lars in relation to their width and to the intercolumniations were often 
 obtained by a series of equilateral triangles, as represented in Fig. 
 
THE PROPORTION AL TRIANGLE. 
 
 415 
 
 82, A ; for these pillars were so arranged, either that the axis of each 
 of them intersected the apex of one of the triangles, as exhibited at 
 a a , or that, if a more slender proportion was desired, three entire pil- 
 lars stood upon the base of the triangle, in the manner indicated at 
 b, thus, in either case, satisfying an instinct of the eye which requires 
 that the weight carried and the thing which carries it shall not be 
 outside the angles of an equilateral triangle. If this principle is 
 disregarded, as indicated in the diagram 13, the conditions of good 
 proportions are lost ; the eye being disturbed by a want of apparent 
 stability, which can only be obtained when the two feet of the trian- 
 gle d d ' , at equal distances from the axis c, are planted in solid 
 points. In like manner, satisfactory general proportions may be ob- 
 
 Fig. 83. 
 
 ! b 
 
 tained for the façade of a basilica, that is to say, a building composed 
 of a nave, flanked by two aisles, one on either side, by inscribing it 
 in an equilateral triangle in the manner shown in Fig. 83 ; and 
 the apertures pierced in this façade will be well proportioned to the 
 principal mass if they also are inscribed in equilateral triangles, as at 
 a c d, c d' a, etc., in such a manner that the lines composing these 
 triangles shall frame in and enclose each opening. The desire of the 
 eye, which instinctively traces these lines, must in this case, as in all 
 others, coincide in its requirements with the rules of stability. The 
 Greeks were not ignorant of this simple principle. Thus (Fig. 84), 
 in the order of the temple of Corinth A, the apex of the equilateral 
 triangle is at a, in the axis of one of the columns under the abacus 
 of its capital; while the two other angles b f are in the axes of the 
 
416 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Fig. 84. 
 
 -i 
 
 columns on either side, at their bases. The Dorians, desiring to 
 obtain a more slender proportion, as in the order of the temple of 
 Concord at Agrigentum, B, caused the lower angles of the triangle 
 
THE PROPORTIONAL TRIANGLE. 
 
 417 
 
 to meet tlie bases of the lateral shafts, not in their axes, but at their 
 outer edges, so that the bases of the three columns were entirely in- 
 cluded in the base of the triangle ; or, again, it they proposed to 
 obtain wider intercolumniations, as in the order ot the temple of 
 Egina, D, the apex of the triangle intersected the axis of the central 
 column on the upper instead of the lower edge of its abacus. 
 
 But, in some instances, the pyramid with a square base, whose 
 vertical section parallel with one of the sides ot the base gives an 
 equilateral triangle, was also used as a generator ot proportions. 
 The diagonal section of this pyramid gives the triangle c de, repre- 
 sented in G, which was applied to some of the façades ot the ancient 
 monuments of Egypt, and, notably, to the portico ot the temple ot 
 Klions at Karnac (20th dynasty), given in the figure. 
 
 Now whether the inclination of the lines of the diagonal section 
 of this pyramid, as in c d e, is more agreeable to the eye, because 
 representing the principal outline of such a pyramid in actual erection, 
 or whether the equilateral triangle, from which this pyramid is en- 
 gendered, is too acute at its apex to govern the proportions of a wide 
 façade, — however this may be, we shall find that the application of \ 
 the triangle c d e to the Parthenon, for example, will develop some 
 
 Fig. 85. 
 
 curious results. By examining Fig. 8Ô we shall discover that, while * 
 the apex of the triangle is at the summit of the pediment of the 
 Parthenon, the two lower angles A A are exactly at the points where 
 27 
 
418 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 plumb-lines, dropped from the middle of the external lines of the 
 corner shafts, touch the pavement of the portico ; also, that the in- 
 clined sides of this triangle, where they intersect the lower edge of the 
 architrave, give the axes of the third columns from either corner of 
 the façade, and that, by dividing the intermediate space a b between 
 those two columns into three equal parts, and by extending one of 
 these divisions outside the points a and b respectively, we obtain the 
 axes ot the six central columns ; we further learn that the horizontal 
 line C D, drawn through the points where the inclined sides of the 
 pyramid intersect the axes of the second columns, gives the height 
 at which the unit ot admeasurement, the module of the whole edifice, 
 is taken in the diameter of the shaft. 
 
 In every structure built on the system of posts and lintels, the 
 critical eye is not satisfied with the consciousness of the simple 
 rigidity of these posts and their strength relatively to the work they 
 have to do ; but instinctively requires a certain mutual solidarity 
 among these posts, and that the inclined lines of the pyramidal sec- 
 tion, which is unconsciously applied as the type and standard of 
 stability, shall encounter at their lower extremities solid points of 
 support ; if this condition is not fulfilled, the expression of perfect 
 solidity is wanting. Thus, in the façade G of Tig. 84, the artist, 
 desiring to obtain a compact yet slender order of columns, felt that 
 it was not possible to obtain this result by the generative means of 
 the equilateral triangle, whether its lower angles touched the cen- 
 tres or even the outer edges of the bases of the two columns g and 
 // on either side of the middle column. So he tried the wider spread 
 of the diagonal section c d e of the equilateral pyramid, thus fixing 
 the axes of the second columns from the middle at the points c and 
 d, and regulating the other intercolumniations accordingly. - As the 
 eye, in its instinctive recognition of the laws of statics, assumes a 
 certain figure with inclined sides as typical of stability, it is natural, 
 when it would seek for the proper expression of this quality in a 
 building, to require that the building shall be disposed in accord- 
 ance with this type, which should be especially suggested by certain 
 well-marked points. Thus, in inscribing the entire facade of the 
 Parthenon in a triangle whose inclined sides give so complete an 
 idea of stability, and in regulating the intercolumniation by the 
 two points where these inclined lines intersect the architrave, the 
 Athenians admirably satisfied this desire of the eye, and met all 
 
THE PROPORTION AL TRIANGLE. 
 
 419 
 
 those conditions of ideal stability so essential in monumental archi- 
 tecture. 
 
 But of all architectural structures, those which are isolated, and 
 have not so much a character of utility as of absolute art, such as the 
 triumphal arches, of which the Romans were so prodigal, should 
 most emphatically express, in their lines and masses, a perfect har- 
 mony, the result of an attentive study of proportions. In such cases, 
 in fact, the mutual relations of heights and widths and the dimen- 
 sions of apertures were not dictated by practical necessities ; the 
 programme gave perfect liberty to the artist, and it was his own fault 
 if he did not avail himself of it to obtain the most perfect ideal of 
 monumental art. We are familiar with a great many triumphal 
 arches raised by Roman vanity ; and if many of them recommend 
 themselves by a certain grandeur of aspect, by the majesty of their 
 masses, or by the beauty of their details, very few are completely sat- 
 isfactory in their proportions. Thus the arch of Trajan, rebuilt 
 under Constantine, is indecisive and unstudied in this respect ; that 
 of Septimius Severus is far too heavy ; that of Orange has a detestable 
 outline, with its clumsy mass supported on slender piers. But the 
 arch of Titus at Rome, small as it is, is very happy in its composition, 
 
 Fig. 86. 
 
 i 
 
 and fully satisfies the eye. Let us therefore endeavor to ascertain on 
 what principle its proportions were obtained (Rig. 8G). 
 
 Here again we find that the generative principle by which the lines 
 were disposed was the equilateral triangle. The key of the arch is 
 
420 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE 
 
 at the apex of an equilateral triangle, and the axes of the piers on 
 either side are perpendiculars elevated from the two extremities of 
 its base a b. The opening c d of the archway up to the line e f of its 
 springing is a perfect square, and the apex of an equilateral triangle, 
 constructed on the line e f as a base, fixes the lower line of the main 
 cornice. The lower line of the attic cornice passes through the apex 
 of another equilateral triangle, constructed on the line g //, which oc- 
 cupies the entire width of the monument, and which coincides with 
 the upper lines of the bases of the engaged columns ; the latter, as 
 they are profiled boldly on the angles of the structure, afford very 
 marked boundary lines for the whole mass. The square niche, placed 
 between the columns on the face of each pier, has its lintel on the 
 apex of an equilateral triangle, whose base is the intercolumniation. 
 The tablet above this niche has its upper line on the apex of an equi- 
 lateral triangle, whose base occupies the whole width of the pier as 
 defined by the columns, or, in other words, at the intersection of the 
 axis of the pier with the inclined side of the largest triangle whose 
 base is at g h. 
 
 Now it can hardly be maintained that these geometrical combina- 
 tions are mere accidental coincidences ; and if it is said that the archi- 
 tect of the arch of Titus obtained these combinations by a delicate 
 feeling for proportions, without having made use of the process we 
 have just explained, it must be admitted that there was a singular 
 agreement between his instinct and the geometrical analysis ol his 
 
 work. There is in Provence, near Marseilles, at St. Chaumas, a little 
 Roman arch built on a bridge (Pig. 87). This structure, which is of a 
 much better style of art than even the monuments of imperial Rome, 
 and is distinguished for excellent proportions, is entirely inscribed in 
 
 Fig. 87, 
 
 / i 
 
 \ 
 
PROPERTIES OP THE PYTHAGOREAN TRIANGLE. 421 
 
 an equilateral triangle, and the arch itself is tangent to the two sides 
 of this triangle, according to the rule indicated in Fig. 83. Chance 
 cannot give such results. 
 
 If we apply this same geometrical standard to any monument of 
 the Middle Ages, of the Renaissance, or of our own time, we shall 
 find that the proportions of the monument are nearer perfection the 
 more closely the conditions of this standard or type are observed. 
 The façade of Notre Dame of Paris, for example, is inscribed in an 
 equilateral triangle, whose base is the distance between the axes of 
 the two outer buttresses, and whose apex gives the height of the 
 cornice under the great open gallery. 
 
 Let us now return to the triangle of Plutarch. M. Daniel Ramée, 
 in his Histoire générale de V architecture, and M. Jomard, in his 
 
 Fig. 8S. 
 
 Description de l'Égypte , abundantly prove that the great Pyramid of 
 Cheops at Gizeh is designed upon this form. Let us examine their 
 demonstration. 
 
422 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 If we divide the Plutarchian, or rather the Pythagorean triangle 
 A B C, whose sides are in the ratio of 3, 4, and 5, into two smaller 
 or similar triangles by letting fall a perpendicular from the apex B 
 upon the hypothenuse at F, and if from the point F, in like manner, 
 we drop perpendiculars F K and F L upon the hypothenuses of the 
 triangles thus formed, we shall have, besides the three original lines 
 A B, B C, and A C, three other lines F B, F K, and F L, and the 
 two segments A F and F C of the line A C. The well-known prop- 
 erties of this triangle, deduced from the famous Pythagorean propo- 
 sition, — namely, that each leg is a mean proportional between the 
 hypothenuse and the segment adjacent to the leg, and that a perpen- 
 dicular thus let fall is a fourth proportional to the three sides of the 
 triangle, — give us at once the values of these lines. Thus, if in the 
 original triangle B C = 300, AB = 400, A C = 500, we have the 
 following results : — 
 
 FC : 
 
 B C = 
 
 B C 
 
 : AC, 
 
 or 
 
 F C 
 
 300X300 
 
 500 
 
 180 
 
 A F : 
 
 AB = 
 
 AB 
 
 : AC, 
 
 or 
 
 A F 
 
 400 X 400 
 
 500 
 
 320 
 
 FB : 
 
 B C = 
 
 AB 
 
 : AC, 
 
 or 
 
 FB 
 
 _ 300 X 400 
 
 500 
 
 240 
 
 FK : 
 
 F B = 
 
 F C 
 
 : B C, 
 
 or 
 
 FK 
 
 _ 240 x 180 
 
 300 
 
 144 
 
 FL : 
 
 FB = 
 
 A F 
 
 : AB, 
 
 or 
 
 F L 
 
 240 X 320 
 
 400 
 
 192 
 
 In like manner, if we circumscribe this triangle with a circle struck 
 from the middle point O of the hypothenuse, with a radius A O = 
 250, we shall have D 0 = 150, or half the height of the leg B C; 
 the chord BH = 480, etc. If we take 12 instead of 100 for our 
 unit, we have for the sides of the triangle 3G, 48, and GO, and for 
 A O and D O, 30 and 18 respectively, etc. Thus, by means of this 
 figure, we obtain decimal and duodecimal divisions, which are sim- 
 ple and convenient in their application to a system of constructive 
 proportions. 
 
 If now we set off on the vertical line D O, prolonged, the distance 
 D E = A O, and draw E A and E B, these lines will exactly represent 
 the geometrical elevation of the great Pyramid of Cheops, A B being 
 the length of one side, D E the vertical height, and A E the length 
 of each inclined face on a vertical section parallel with one of the 
 sides of the base. Now this line A E or E B is equal to A F, the 
 
PROPORTIONS OP BASILICA OP CONSTANTINE. 
 
 423 
 
 segment of the liypothenuse A C of the triangle of Plutarch cut off 
 by the perpendicular B P.* 
 
 Whether the architects of antiquity did or did not avail themselves 
 of this figure, it is certain, as we shall presently see, that the me- 
 diaeval masters made it the generative principle of some of their 
 great buildings. 
 
 Let us apply to the transverse section of the basilica of Constantine 
 at Rome (Pig. 89) the triangle A B E in Pig. 88. We shall see that 
 the legs A B and A C, at the points B and C, define the positions of 
 the centre lines of the outer walls ; that at the apex A they give the 
 
 Fig. 89. 
 
 extreme height of the main vault ; and that by means of their 
 intersections D and P with the longitudinal nave walls, they fix the 
 extreme height of the entablature of the grand order with which the 
 hall is decorated. The sides A B and A C give also the points G 
 and If, where the arches m the transverse walls of the aisles spring 
 An equilateral triangle I K L, whose base extends between the axes 
 of the two opposite columns of the nave above their bases, gives, 
 with its apex L, the extreme height of the tribune arch. Taking 
 one of the four equal divisions a c of the base of the main triangle, 
 and dividing it in halves at b, we obtain the positions of the piers 
 
 * This whole demonstration has been remodelled and simplified in the translation. It is 
 \.oith\ of remark, that the line A E or E B is not exactly equal to the segment A F, as stated, 
 hut that they are in the ratio of 320 and 320.156 +. The coincidence pointed out in the text, 
 therefore, does not result from a geometrical relation, hut is merely accidental. — Traxsl. 
 
424 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 of the tribune arch, and the dividing point c gives the axis of the 
 pier e d. Observe, also, that the width of the nave, at the level 
 D O F, is to the height A 0 on the centre line as the width of the 
 whole structure, at the level g l It, is to the height A l on the centre 
 line. Here, as in the Parthenon and in the arch of Titus, the eye, 
 finding that the position of the triangle, which is the ideal of sta- 
 bility, is defined by the well-marked architectural points A, D, G, 
 and g, on the one side, and A, F, II, and It, on the other, is instinc- 
 tively satisfied with the proportions. One of the conditions to be 
 carefully observed in obtaining good proportions for an architec- 
 tural composition, is to avoid equal successive dimensions whether 
 in lines or surfaces. The artist, therefore, in this case has been cau- 
 tious not to divide the side g A into two equal parts ; the actual 
 division he made is into the two unequal parts g D and D A, which 
 are to each other as 29 to 21. The Egyptian triangle, as a genera- 
 tive medium, its base being to its height as 4 to 2^-, possesses the 
 advantage of encouraging these contrasts between widths and heights, 
 without which there are no harmonious relations of parts. In fact, 
 it is mainly by contrasts that the eye is enabled to comprehend 
 dimensions. Thus, a nave appears high, when it is narrow in pro- 
 portion to its height ; and wide, when it is low in proportion to its 
 ‘ width. But when you have obtained a condition of perfect relations 
 between the main heights and widths, you have the key to the pro- 
 portions of your whole structure, and such a key seems to have been 
 found in antiquity by the application of the Egyptian triangle. 
 Unfortunately, so few antique buildings are entire in all their parts, 
 that it is difficult to apply this method with certainty to most of 
 them. But, from the moment when mediaeval art passed from the 
 cloisters into the hands of the lay architects, there is ample evidence 
 that the principle was put into general practice. It is impossible- 
 to say whether the principles which these architects seem to have 
 guarded as a mysterious and exclusive science were obtained from 
 their familiarity with antique lore, now forgotten, or from traditions 
 whose purity had been carefully preserved ; but we can always find, 
 in their system of architectural proportions, evidences of the observ- 
 ance of certain laws probably derived from antiquity, although they 
 never dreamed of imitating the forms of antique architecture, and 
 although their system of construction was, as I have elsewhere stated, 
 fundamentally different from those of the Greeks and Romans. 
 
Fig. 91. 
 
 TRANSVERSE SECTION OF THE CATHEDRAL OF PARIS. 
 

 
 
PROPORTIONS OF CATHEDRAL OF PARIS. 
 
 425 
 
 Let us select the Cathedral of Paris, which is one of the most 
 ancient of the buildings belonging to the truly lay school of France, 
 a specimen of the real Gothic style of the twelfth century. Fig. 90 
 presents a transverse section of its nave and four aisles. The total 
 width of the structure being known, let A B represent a half of this 
 width, divided into four equal parts. Starting from the axis A and 
 elevating perpendiculars on each of these four divisions, the first from 
 the centre coincides with the face of the nave wall above the columns ; 
 the second, with the inner face of the columns separating the first 
 from the second aisle ; the third, with the axis of the outer wall ; 
 and the fourth, with the outermost of the successive offsets of the 
 buttresses on a level with the pavement of the church. Assuming the 
 upper level of the bases of the nave piers as a base of operations, at 
 the point A we elevate the perpendicular A C, on which we space oft’ 
 five of the equal divisions of the base line ; the fifth division at E 
 gives the height of the Egyptian triangle and also the height of the 
 main vault. The line B D, uniting the extremity of the perpendicu- 
 lar D with that of the base A B at B, forms the inclined side of the 
 triangle, whose height is to its entire base as 5 to 8 or 24 to 4. The 
 intersection of this inclined line B D with the first perpendicular 
 raised on the base A B gives at E the springing point of the main 
 vault ; its intersection with the second perpendicular at F gives the 
 level of the window-sills of the gallery, and with the third perpen- 
 dicular at G the apex of the windows of the outer aisle. The first 
 division II of the perpendicular A 1) gives the level of the springing 
 of the lower arches of the nave walls, whose centre points are stilted 
 about 12-|- inches above the capitals of the piers. The third division 
 I gives the level of the keys of the gallery vaults. The section K I 
 of the hypothenuse of the triangle of Plutarch (see the demonstration 
 of Fig. 88) gives the inclination of the upper lines of all the flying 
 buttresses, whose centres are in the perpendiculars 1 and 2 raised upon 
 the base. If now we take A D as the height of an equilateral tri- 
 angle, we shall discover that the side P D of this triangle, in its inter- 
 sections with the skeleton lines of the structure as already established, 
 gives at L the lower point of the round triforium windows under the 
 clerestory, at M the floor of the gallery, and at P the interior face of 
 the outer wall. In fine, a line R 0, parallel with the hypothenuse 
 1/ K', gives, in passing by the level of the keys of the gallery vaults, 
 the inclination of the original pyramidal roofs of these vaults. As 
 
426 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 for the gable-ends and consequently the roofs of the nave, they 
 coincide exactly with a triangle similar to that of which a half is 
 given in A B I). Now if these are mere accidental coincidences, it 
 must be admitted that chance plays very strange tricks. 
 
 To trace the main vaults (see Fig. 91) : a b c being the Egyptian 
 triangle, we measure off on its base line from a to c and from b to d 
 the thickness of the archstones of the pointed arch e c d\ uniting the 
 point d of the base with the apex c, and elevating a perpendicular i g 
 on the middle of this line, the intersection of this perpendicular with 
 the base line at g gives the centre of the principal arch, of which the 
 arc c d is the under surface {intrados). The arc m l represents half 
 of the diagonal arch, and the arc x h half of the intermediate trans- 
 verse arch. 
 
 Let us now submit the transverse section of the nave and aisles of 
 the cathedral of Amiens to a similar analysis. It has been said that 
 Michael Angelo, in conceiving the cupola of St. Peter’s at Rome, 
 professed to elevate the Pantheon on the basilica of Constantine. 
 I do not know whether he ever had such an idea ; but certainly the 
 placing of one building on top of another would be no mark of genius ; 
 the genius would be exhibited in maintaining happy proportions in 
 a structure whose height should be double the width of another 
 structure, already recognized as a model of proportions. The archi- 
 tect of Notre Dame of Amiens has met these conditions with rare 
 intelligence. All who enter this cathedral are struck with the gran- 
 deur of the general effect and the perfection of the relative propor- 
 tions. In the midst of this vast enclosure the eye is entirely content ; 
 it comprehends without effort a work conceived in a single inspira- 
 tion by a superior mind. Can this harmony be the result of a series 
 of blind experiments, or the effect of the successful study of the various 
 parts relatively to the whole ? I do not believe in chance, especially 
 as regards architecture, nor yet in successful studies, that is to say, 
 the results of pure instinct. If a work is good, it is because it is 
 based on a good principle, intelligently and loyally followed. 
 
 The transverse section of the cathedral of Amiens (Fig. 92) pre- 
 sents a harmony of proportions obtained by the superimposition ot 
 two Egyptian triangles. The base A B of the lower triangle ABC 
 reposes, according to what seems to have been the usual custom, 
 upon the bases of the nave piers, and extends between the outer faces 
 of the exterior walls of the aisles ; its summit C defines the level of 
 
Fig. 92. 
 
 TRANSVERSE SECTION OF THE CATHEDRAL OF AMIENS. 
 

 
PROPORTIONS OF CATHEDRAL OF AMIENS. 
 
 427 
 
 the lowest member of the decorated string-course D, which extends 
 uninterrupted around the whole interior of the edifice. The base 
 A B, divided into four parts, gives, at the points 1 and 3, the outer 
 faces of the grand piers ; that is to say, referring to the separate dia- 
 gram P of the pier, the tangent g h gives the point a. If we divide 
 each of these four divisions of the base into halves at the points 0, 
 V, 2', 3', the subdivision U, by means of a line drawn from it par- 
 allel with the side A C, fixes, by its intersection E with the side B C, 
 the level of the astragal of the capitals of the engaged columns, rep- 
 resented in the plan of the pier at X X X. The second parallel to 
 A C, drawn from the point 1, gives the keys of the nave arches. The 
 parallel from the point 3 / defines the inner slope of the sills of the 
 aisle windows. The parallel from the point 2 gives, by its intersec- 
 tion with a horizontal line drawn from the point F, the soffite of the 
 key of the aisle vaults; while the parallel drawn from the point 2' 
 gives, by its intersection with a horizontal line drawn from the point 
 E, the inner face of the engaged piers of the aisle, — - the thickness 
 of the pier, given in detail at P, having been dictated by construc- 
 tional necessity. The vertical G C being divided into five parts, 
 each of these divisions is equal to one of the eight into which the 
 base is divided. The first division 1 gives the level of the aisle win- 
 dow-sills ; and 3, the astragal of the capital of the central cylindrical 
 part of the piers, detailed at P, this being lower than the astragals of 
 the engaged columns X, before referred to. 
 
 Upon the level A' B', which terminates the first order, or that of 
 the aisles, the architect has repeated his lower base A B, and marked 
 its extremities by the inner jambs of the doorways which pass through 
 the buttresses. Upon this new base A' B' he has erected a second 
 Egyptian triangle A' IT C'. Its sides A' C' and IT C', in intersect- 
 ing the inner face K of the clerestory walls, gave him, at the point 
 I, the height of the springing of the main vaulting arches, of which 
 the point CT marks the apex. In order to trace these arches he pro- 
 ceeded as in Notre Dame of Paris. The centres 0 0 of the flying 
 buttresses are in the prolongation of the axis R of the main piers. 
 C' being assumed as the apex of an equilateral triangle, of which one 
 side is CT S, the intersection of this line with the axis R of the piers 
 gave the architect, at M, the height of the upper passage of the tri- 
 forium ; and its intersection with the axis T of the outer aisle wall 
 at V defined the height of the springing of the aisle vaults. The line 
 
428 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 V R, also the side of an equilateral triangle, designated, where it 
 encountered the axis R, the level of the pavement of the church, and, 
 consequently, by the difference between this level and that of the first 
 base line A R, the height of the bases. The roof also follows the 
 lines of an equilateral triangle. The length of the hypothenuse B' N 
 equals the height of the nave from the point G to the apex C'. All 
 the mouldings traced at the point b are so disposed as to be per- 
 fectly developed when seen from the point B. We shall take occa- 
 sion to refer again to this principle. All the' inclined lines of the 
 Hying buttresses are parallel with the hypothenuse B' N. The 
 Egyptian triangle was so omnipresent in the generation of all the 
 details, that even the slopes of all the offsets Y of the buttresses fol- 
 low the inclinations A C or B C, as if the artist had drawn these 
 slopes by simply running his bevelled square along a general base 
 line. 
 
 Many of the details of the application of this system have doubtless 
 escaped us in tracing this general section. Even the most insignifi- 
 cant divisions were probably obtained by means of the intersections 
 of vertical lines with the parallels or sides of the triangles. But if 
 the principle is not contested, and we are ashed why these geometri- 
 cal methods give satisfactory proportions, we can only say that it is 
 because they establish a constant harmonious relation between the 
 heights and widths. 
 
 We must admit, with the Egyptians, that for some reason or other 
 the triangle engendered by the sides 4, 3, and 5 supplies us with 
 a perfect standard of proportions, and that the relation of 2^ or 5 in 
 height with a width of 4 or 8 respectively is gratifying to the eye. 
 If it is difficult to explain wlty a sensation of the eye is pleasing or 
 the reverse, we can at least define the sensation. As has already 
 been intimated, the eye receives the idea of dimensions only rela- 
 tively ; that is, its conception of length, width, and surface is obtained 
 by mutual contrasts and comparisons between these. Now the rela- 
 tions of 1 to 2, of 2 to 4, and the like, do not supply us with con- 
 trasts or dissimilarities, but with mere repetitions of similarities. 
 When a method of proportions forces, as it were, the draughtsman 
 to make divisions which are to each other as 5 to 8, for example, 5 
 being neither the half, the third, nor the quarter of 8, but having 
 with 8 certain relations which the eye cannot define, he is instinc- 
 tively using the principle of contrasts, which is the first law of the 
 
ELEMENT OF CONTRAST IN PROPORTIONS. 
 
 429 
 
 theory of proportions. As the eye is the organ most frequently used, 
 and as it acts without the aid of reason, it becomes a very delicate 
 instrument, even to those to whom it has never occurred to try to 
 understand why proportions are good or bad. Thus, whenever the 
 eye detects a repetition of measures in an edifice, whenever it sees 
 that the openings in a wall are equal to the piers, or that a certain 
 height is similar to a certain other height, it conveys to the mind a 
 consciousness, not of proportions, but of similitudes ; it is preoccu- 
 pied by the equalities which it sees ; it soon becomes fatigued by 
 instinctively calculating the accuracy of the repetitions. Although it 
 is very difficult exactly to appreciate with the eye the fact, for exam- 
 ple, that the great decorated string-course divides into two equal 
 parts the height of the nave of Amiens, yet I have often heard per- 
 sons, strangers to art, criticise and complain of this equal horizontal 
 division ; and this feature is, in fact, a defect of proportions in an 
 edifice otherwise well conceived. The architect, in going through 
 the two distinct operations to which we have referred, as they are 
 tied together, as it, were, by the extension of the lines of his equi- 
 lateral triangle through the level line of demarcation, believed that 
 this line would not betray the double character of his design ; but 
 this fact, is so much the more apparent, even to the most uneducated 
 eye, in that all the other parts of the edifice present happy propor- 
 tions obtained by contrasts. But, observe, these contrasts have an 
 order, a unity ; it is not, sufficient to establish differences of heights 
 and widths in the same building capriciously ; these differences must 
 be based on some general and well-understood system, and the 
 method of obtaining proportional contrasts by triangles is good, be- 
 cause it furnishes certain points in the composition which instinc- 
 tively define to the eye the existence of some general system of design, 
 although the method itself may not be understood. There can be 
 no correct proportions without unity, and no unity without plurality ; 
 and plurality implies, not similarities, but differences. 
 
 The Greeks (for we must always have recourse to them when we 
 would receive light on any question touching the arts) had two 
 schools of philosophy as well as two schools of art, — the Dorian or 
 Pythagorean school and the Ionian school. Of these, the former 
 taught absolute unity, excluding all difference, everything was one ; 
 the latter, purely empirical or experimental, admitted, on the con- 
 trary, infinite divisibility, difference without identity, appearance with- 
 
430 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 out an omnipresent reason, movement without unity of motive. Out 
 of these two philosophical systems, one expressing itself in theism, 
 the other in pantheism, the Athenians constructed a system appli- 
 cable to the arts ; taking from the Dorians the principle of unity and 
 from the Ionians empiricism, they submitted architecture to an abso- 
 lute method, a generative unity, yet allowed the artist all his indi- 
 viduality, all that liberty which leads to difference and variety. 
 Admirable synthesis, which inspired not only the masterpieces of 
 Greek art, but of that almost unknown and kindred epoch of medi- 
 aeval art over which the modern schools would fain throw a thick 
 veil, as if to separate it from its great antitype and conceal it from 
 the analytical study of the architect ! 
 
 Strictly speaking, however, neither in Greek architecture nor in 
 the purest mediaeval do we find this principle of empiricism expressed 
 in the idea of manifestation without principle, but rather a simul- 
 taneous unity and plurality, not only in the general proportions, but 
 in the minutest details. In both architectures the principle of crea- 
 tion was one, but the artist was a creator who moved freely within 
 the limits of this principle. Thus, by pure reason, the Greeks recog- 
 nized a great law of nature, which modern science has defined, as it 
 were, mathematically. 
 
 It has been demonstrated that a unity of principle is at the base 
 of all organic nature. From the serpent to the man this principle is 
 rigorously followed, and it is from the very plurality of its applica- 
 tions that its unity is recognized. When we consider that in every 
 individual creature the development of one member of the organic 
 whole is made at, the expense of the others, that these individuals 
 differ one from the other only by the different degrees of develop- 
 ment of the various members of the same organic whole, preserving 
 in each case a relative proportion, so that the creature which has no 
 legs is compensated by a lengthening of the spine, and the one whose 
 lower members are exaggerated has but embryonic arms, — the 
 horse, for instance, having upon each of his members but one colossal 
 finger, developed thus at the expense of all the others, — when we 
 consider this rigorous unity of the creative principle, we are tempted 
 to ask if man, when he in his turn undertakes to create, should not 
 proceed in the same manner, and, indeed, if he has not actually so 
 proceeded in all those eras of the world which have been distin- 
 guished for the glory of art. Now, it can scarcely be denied that 
 
PROPORTIONAL DIVISIONS. 
 
 431 
 
 geometry is the natural point of departure, the organic principle of 
 architecture, and, this admitted, that the triangle is the most perfect 
 of geometrical figures for the standard and type of architectural 
 creation ; and further, that of all the triangles the equilateral, and 
 that whose height is to its width as 2|- to 4, being engendered by 
 the right triangle, whose sides are 3, 4, and 5, conform most com- 
 pletely to the laws of statics and to proportional divisions, the in- 
 tersections of their sides with the vertical lines giving divisions 
 according to a basis of unity, giving successive points recalling the 
 inclinations of these sides, and therefore, proportions compelled by 
 these generative figures. On the other hand, it is evident that the 
 application of these triangles to architectural designs obliges the 
 designer to keep to certain proportions between heights and widths ; 
 and, consequently, while he has perfect liberty to assume certain 
 heights or widths according to the practical conditions he has to 
 
 Fig. 93. 
 
 fulfil, he is constrained by this system of proportions to adopt cor- 
 responding widths or heights, which, however much difference there 
 
43.2 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 may be between them, must always be in harmonious relations with 
 each other. 
 
 Let us suppose, for instance, that we have a façade to construct, 
 composed of a first floor, forming a portico, and of a story above. If 
 A A' A" are given by the conditions of the problem as the axes of 
 the piers of the portico, let us construct equilateral triangles with 
 A A ' and A' A" as their bases, and B and / as their summits respec- 
 tively ; the points B and l should be the highest points of the 
 openings of the arcade. Dividing the heights C B and i l of these 
 triangles each into 5 parts, and measuring off 2 of these parts on 
 either side of the centres C and we obtain a proportionate opening 
 for the arches, as at a and g, whence we elevate therefore the perpen- 
 diculars a h and g m as the jambs of the archway ; and the second 
 division h from the apex I must be the centre from which we strike 
 the arch h 7 m. Now as the height a h of the piers to the springing 
 of this arch must be 3 parts and the opening a g 4, the diagonal g h 
 must be the hypothenuse of the triangle described by Plutarch and 
 consequently must be 5 parts long, or the same length as the height i I 
 of the whole archway. In this arcade, therefore, we have a unity of 
 measure, but a plurality of parts, relations, and distances. It is well 
 to note, moreover, that the relation of 3 to 5, in architecture as well 
 as in music, is a harmony. If we prolong the sides of these triangles, 
 as A B and A" /, they will meet above, as at E, thus forming a large 
 equilateral triangle A E A", whose apex E should be taken as the 
 level on which the main cornice is to be established. If we prolong the 
 hypothenuse g 7/ and the vertical C B, they will meet at O, on which 
 level the string-course between the first and second story should be 
 placed. Thus the right-angle triangles a g // and C g 0 being simi- 
 lar, the heights and widths fixed by their perpendiculars and bases 
 respectively must be according to a common unit of proportion. The 
 proper level P P' of the window-sills in the second story being ascer- 
 tained, the points R Pd of its intersection with the oblique lines of the 
 equilateral triangles will give us the proportionate width of the win- 
 dows. The eye, therefore, will be instinctively guided by the suc- 
 cessive architectural points A, B, IP, E in the oblique line A E of 
 the triangle, to realize a certain geometrical and therefore harmonious 
 relation of parts between the two stories, and to recognize that the 
 whole composition is arranged according to an understood system 
 of variety in unity. 
 
COMPOSITION BY PROPORTIONAL TRIANGLES. 
 
 433 
 
 In Fig. 94 we venture to present another example, under some- 
 what unfavorable conditions. It is proposed to build the façade of 
 a château, composed of two stories, dormer-windows, a great roof, 
 and low wings. Dividing the whole length into 22 parts, we take 
 4 of them for the central pavilion and 3 for each of the flanking 
 pavilions. Following the constructive geometrical lines, the observer 
 can see how the general disposition of parts has been proportionally 
 arranged by them ; but, as the apex B of the great equilateral tri- 
 angle is evidently too high to be available as an architectural point, 
 we strike from the centre a of the base line an arc h c with a radius 
 a b, equal to half the length of the entire façade ; by making use of 
 the point c, as indicated, we obtain an harmonious relation between 
 the extreme width and height. 
 
 Fig. 94. 
 
 These figures are not offered as models, but only for the purpose 
 of explaining the practical application of a method in architectural 
 proportions at a time when all such methods seem to be abandoned 
 for mere caprice. But it must be borne in mind that no method 
 
 28 
 
434 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 can supply the place of observation, knowledge, and taste. While 
 availing himself of mathematical means to justify his proportions ac- 
 cording to a unit of harmonious relations, the artist must ever remain 
 jealous of his individual liberty. The geometrical theory of propor- 
 tions requires as many different methods of application in actual 
 practice as there are examples ; this fact explains how dangerous it 
 is to apply the definition classic to the orders ; for this definition im- 
 plies an immutable method, a perfect formula, and undertakes to put 
 the modale or unit of admeasurement in the place of reason, and to 
 substitute the absolute for the relative. Now, in architecture, every 
 detail should bear a defined relation to the general composition ; it 
 should, in itself, be neither absolute nor capricious. Among Greek 
 and mediaeval artists alike this principle was recognized and prac- 
 tised ; and as, in a mediaeval structure, everything was relative, and 
 every member occupied a necessary and proportionate part of the 
 general harmony, every such structure, whether civil or religious in 
 character, • appears greater than it really is. 
 
 But it is necessary to notice some of the architectural disposi- 
 tions which exceptionally influence this method of proportions. The 
 Greeks (at least in those of their buildings which remain to us) had 
 generally but a simple order or arrangement of façades elevated on a 
 single plan. They never superimposed orders nor built them in suc- 
 cessive retreating stories. Now it is easy to understand that, if it is 
 comparatively a simple thing to apply a theory of proportions to a 
 façade built vertically on a single plan, it is quite otherwise to make 
 it of practical use in structures, not only of several stories, but with 
 each story possessing, as regards the façade, a different plan from the 
 rest. In such cases, of course, a method of proportions applied to 
 the design in geometrical elevation would be quite disarranged in its 
 effects when the design is constructed and seen in perspective. The 
 eye being a portion of a sphere whose centre is the visual point, all 
 objects presenting themselves to the vision are reproduced on a curved 
 surface. Thus (Fig. 95) let A be the visual point, and B C a mast 
 divided into four equal parts, B a , a b, b c, and c C. Now, as these 
 divisions present themselves to the eye at A, they are unequal, as rep- 
 resented in the quadrant at IT a', V c, and c C. But if we desire 
 that the mast should appear to be divided into four equal parts, we 
 erect the mast D E, and so divide it that rays passing to the eye 
 shall intersect the curve in the equal arcs df,f g, g It, and It e, rep- 
 
INFLUENCE OF PERSPECTIVE ON COMPOSITION. 
 
 435 
 
 resenting the unequal lengths D E, F G, G H, and TI E. But if it 
 is proposed to build a façade composed of four vertical planes, re- 
 treating successively one behind the other as they rise, as indicated 
 in the section B B, made perpendicularly to this façade, and if it 
 is proposed that these four stories, when seen from the point A, 
 shall appear of equal height, it will be necessary so to arrange them, 
 that the lines A I, A J, A Iv, and A L shall divide the arc M 0 
 into four equal parts ; thus the façade, which, in geometrical eleva- 
 tion, would be represented by N P Q R, would, when seen from 
 the point A, assume the appearance given by the dotted lines n p ([ R, 
 and the rosette window S would appear as indicated at s. When, 
 therefore, an edifice is to be designed with a due regard for propor- 
 tions, it is very essential to take into account the point or points 
 whence it will be most usually seen, and the diminutions or disar- 
 rangements which will be created by the heights, and by the pro- 
 jecting and retreating surfaces when seen from the point or points 
 referred to. But as the architect is obliged to submit to the exi- 
 
 Fig. 95. 
 
 gencies imposed by certain appropriations and requirements, he 
 cannot always dispose these heights and retreats as may seem most 
 desirable to him in view of the phenomena of perspective; he must 
 endeavor so to treat his façade as to suggest to the spectator that 
 which his eyes cannot see and that which ought to enter into 
 the general composition, and must use such artifice in the arrange- 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 43 G 
 
 ment of liis details as shall diminish that which would otherwise seem 
 too large and increase that which would otherwise appear too small. 
 It is then that the artist of merit has occasion to avail himself of the 
 extended resources of the art (not the formulas) of architecture. 
 
 We 1 lave but very vague information regarding Greek interiors. 
 The houses and public monuments of Pompeii, when compared with 
 those of Magna Græcia, belong but to an insignificant town. But of 
 the interiors of the dwellings and public monuments of Athens we 
 have no means of forming an idea, save by induction ; it can at least 
 be confidently asserted that the Greeks never used in their interiors 
 the forms suited for their exteriors. In an interior the field of obser- 
 vation is limited ; there are no distant views to be obtained. These 
 conditions suggest the use of cornices of considerable projection, that 
 their under surfaces may have value as seen from beneath ; but, on the 
 other hand, these projections seriously obstruct the view of the inte- 
 rior architecture. If the Romans, therefore, used complete orders in 
 their enormous interiors, like the halls of the baths, they do not appear 
 to have attempted to decorate their smaller apartments in this way. 
 But the interiors of the baths of Titus, of the Palatine, of Pompeii, 
 and of the Villa Adrian are not cut by projecting cornices, nor em- 
 barrassed by pilasters and columns, but decorated only with a fine 
 stucco, adorned with sculptured panels and with paintings. It is 
 quite allowable to suppose that the Greeks of Attica used a similar 
 method of decoration ; and it is certain that when they used orders in 
 the interiors of their temples, as in the Parthenon, the dimensions of 
 these orders were very much reduced as compared with those adorn- 
 ing their exteriors. 
 
 In Persia, where the traditions of a high antiquity are still pre- 
 served, the decoration of interiors is confined to paintings, encaustic 
 tiles, imbrications, and very delicate moulded reliefs, thus preserving 
 to the rooms their purity of form, and keeping them free from fhose 
 features which, by their boldness of projection, are apt to attract an 
 undue share of attention. It should not be forgotten that a system 
 of proportion, which may be good when applied to a façade to be 
 viewed from a distance and to receive direct light, would be misap- 
 plied if employed in the decoration of an interior ; and if the condi- 
 tions of great interiors like the basilicas and cathedrals are such that 
 their proportions, in general transverse or longitudinal sections, may 
 
USE OE CLASSIC ORDERS IN INTERIORS. 
 
 437 
 
 be regulated by a monumental system, such, a system cannot be ap- 
 plied to the details of these interiors. It was hardly before the close 
 of the sixteenth century that this error was committed, when the archi- 
 tects in Italy and France began to decorate their interiors with orders 
 and features such as were made only for exteriors. 
 
 Strong and forced contrasts of architectural features, instead of 
 creating startling effects, as intended, often serve only to apparently 
 diminish the real dimensions. Hence the disappointment with re- 
 gard to size experienced on the first view of the interior of St. Peter’s 
 at Rome ; and hence, when we see certain modern rooms encumbered 
 with columns and entablatures, the instinctive desire to free the inte- 
 riors from these superfluous and ponderous adornments, in order that 
 the actual dimensions and forms of the rooms may be restored. As 
 light plays a very important part in architecture, it is evident that an 
 entablature, perfectly composed to produce a certain effect in the 
 open air with the light coming from above, will have an entirely dif- 
 ferent effect when placed in such a position that it can only receive 
 reflected light. A Corinthian capital, which is most beautifully de- 
 fined when seen from a distance and exposed to a luminous angle of 
 forty or fifty degrees, loses all its value when seen from below and 
 lighted only by reflection. It is evident that the Greeks appreciated 
 these natural phenomena ; for the frieze around the cella of the Par- 
 thenon, under the shadow of the portico, is so sculptured as to pro- 
 duce its effects by the aid of reflected light alone; and their Doric 
 capital, which was designed so as to preserve its character, whether 
 illuminated by direct or reflected light, often had its delicately slop- 
 ing echinus decorated with superficial designs in color, with especial 
 reference to being seen from below in their interiors. But it is hard 
 to believe that these artists, before the Roman domination, ever used 
 Corinthian columns and entablatures in their rooms, or were ever so 
 enslaved to the terms of a formula as indiscriminately to apply stand- 
 ard architectural members to positions where they must necessarily 
 injure, confuse, or at least mask each other. 
 
 If it is the aim of an architect, when he fits an architectural order 
 to a room in the modern fashion, to diminish the apparent extent or 
 height of this room by so doing, I admit that he exactly attains his 
 purpose ; but if it is desirable to produce the contrary effect, he must 
 avail himself of the resources of his art to magnify and not to reduce 
 these apparent proportions. 
 
438 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Gothic architecture, said M. Raoul Rochette in 1846,* “presents 
 certain inconsistencies which cannot be justified by the laws of good 
 taste, or conciliated with the civilization of modern society. The 
 distribution of its architectural members is governed by none of 
 those principles which have become notes of art only because they 
 are the result of experience. It has no system of proportions ; 
 its details have no fixed and understood relations with the masses ; 
 in the invention as well as in the employment of ornaments, every- 
 thing is arbitrary and capricious, and the profusion of these orna- 
 ments on the outside of the churches, compared to the complete absence 
 of them in the interiors, is a painful blemish and an indefensible 
 absurdity.” 
 
 The illustrious perpetual secretary unconsciously paid a high com- 
 pliment to Gothic architecture in thus bearing witness to the dif- 
 ference of treatment between its interiors and exteriors ; for this 
 difference was indeed in accordance with a principle which had 
 become a rule of art because it was the result of experience as well as of 
 good sense and good taste. In fact, if a façade of great extent and 
 height, which can be seen under various aspects, from far and near, 
 in front and obliquely, requires to be broken by numerous projections, 
 in order to obtain agreeable and varied effects of light and shade 
 from every point of view, not only the points of view, but the sur- 
 faces viewed, are necessarily comparatively restricted in interiors, and 
 the architects should take these new conditions of limitation into 
 careful consideration. 
 
 Although the Romans often neglected this principle, I firmly believe 
 that the Greeks held to it strictly ; and as for the mediaeval architects, 
 there is ample evidence that they habitually submitted to it. Thus, 
 whatever the dimensions of their great interiors, we observe that a sin- 
 gle order occupies the whole height from the pavement to the spring- 
 ing of the vaults. Rut when, in the era of transition, as in the cathe- 
 drals of Notre Dame of Paris, of Novon, of Sens, Senlis, and in certain 
 churches belonging to the close of the twelfth century, an order was 
 placed over an arcade along the nave, the architects had sufficient 
 taste in all such cases to make this lower arcade, or order, so subor- 
 dinate to the superstructure as to serve, as it were, simply as its base. 
 
 * “ Considérations sur la question de savoir s'il est convenable, au XIX e siècle, de bâtir des 
 églises en style gothique ” : a report read before the Academy ot I ine Arts in 1846, and communi- 
 cated to the Minister of the Interior. 
 
MEDLEYAL INTERIORS. 
 
 439 
 
 But when this architecture was finally developed into a complete 
 style and a perfect unity, as at Rheims, Amiens, Bourges, Chartres, 
 etc., the more its exteriors were accentuated by mouldings and pro- 
 jections and features of marked expression, in order to profit by the 
 effects of direct sunlight, the simpler were the lines of the interiors, 
 the less bold the projections, the more unity in the whole decorative 
 treatment. In these edifices, the exterior is made to invite the spec- 
 tator to turn around, to admire and to behold the various effects at 
 every point of view ; in the interior, on the contrary, everything is 
 arranged to fill the mind with ideas of calmness and grandeur ; the 
 sculpture is rare, the vertical lines are multiplied, the details are re- 
 duced to the human scale, and everything concurs to produce a grand 
 unity of effect. And when we analyze these details, we find that 
 every member and every profile has been traced for the position it 
 occupies, and to take its designated part in the general effect. If the 
 cathedral of Amiens were a mass of ruins, every portion could be as- 
 signed to its appropriate place by means of the geometrical formula 
 indicated in Big. 94. 
 
 M. Raoul Rochette complained of the poverty of the interiors of 
 our mediaeval churches as compared to their façades, without consid- 
 ering that these interiors were originally decorated with paintings, 
 stained glass, and with appointments and furniture generally very rich 
 in character. In like manner it is evident that Greek interiors were 
 decorated rather with paintings and movable objects than by a com- 
 plication and elaboration of purely architectural features. This is a 
 necessary inference, because the Hellenic artists must have recognized 
 and rigorously followed a principle so true and so natural. But what 
 was the cella of a Greek temple compared to the interior of the cathe- 
 dral of Amiens, — a surface of three hundred square feet to a surface 
 of twenty thousand ? Do not let me be understood as referring to 
 this difference as a test of superiority ; for art is independent of di- 
 mensions, and no one will pretend that the church of La Madeleine is 
 equal to the little temple of Theseus ; nor yet can it be contested that 
 superiority of size carries with it an increased difficulty of the prob- 
 lems to be solved by the architect. If it requires careful study and 
 repeated trials to give happy proportions and a suitable decoration to 
 a room of eighteen by thirty feet, it needs studies still more profound 
 to preserve an aspect of unity, harmony, and grandeur in a hall of one 
 hundred and fifty by four hundred feet. Yet, certainly, this increased 
 
440 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 difficulty was triumphantly met in the civil and religious edifices of 
 the Middle Ages, and even of the Renaissance, as shown, not only in 
 the churches of that time, but in the great halls of Sens, Poitiers, 
 Montargis, of the palace at Paris, of the château of Coney, and even 
 in that of Fontainebleau, although of a period much more recent ; 
 and, observe, this unity of effect was not obtained by repeating in the 
 interior the external features of architecture. 
 
 Even the Romans applied this principle, in their better moments, 
 or, I should rather say, when they gave full liberty to the Greek artists 
 in their employ, and did not thrust their love of the sumptuous and 
 colossal between the artist and his work ; for sometimes, when they 
 decorated the halls of their baths, and more especially rooms of less 
 dimensions, with orders originally invented for exteriors, they were 
 wise enough to modify these orders with discretion and artistic feel- 
 ing to suit their new positions. 
 
 But, on the whole, the Greek artists, in the employ of the Romans, 
 had a deleterious influence over Roman architecture. Since it was a 
 policy or a mark of good taste among the Romans to regard themselves 
 rather as the protectors than the conquerors of the Greeks, the latter 
 cunningly availed themselves of their privileges, not to place the deli- 
 cate rules of their art in opposition to the coarse and ostentatious taste 
 of their patrons, but to seduce these barbarians by lavishing richness 
 of material and ’elaboration of workmanship. 
 
 The Romans cared little to appropriate and transmit to posterity 
 the ideal distinction of Greek art, which they could not understand, 
 but they regarded it as a matter of importance to appear the most 
 powerful people on earth, and, by using the materials most difficult 
 to work and by profuseness of decoration, to fill the world with won- 
 der at their resources rather than with admiration at their taste. The 
 Greeks, accepting these conditions as imposed by the Roman barba- 
 rian, pushed profusion to such extremities as presently to bring the art, 
 of which they were such docile workmen, to disgrace and contusion. 
 But when this Roman art had fallen to such depths of vulgarity, and 
 had become so splendidly insignificant that it was no longer possi- 
 ble to restore it to a healthy condition, the Greeks, instead of them- 
 selves sharing in the degradation to which they had been such willing 
 assistants, recovered their natural qualities as soon as the pressure 
 upon their genius was removed, and Byzantium in the fifth century 
 beheld them once more free to develop their own inspirations ; but 
 
PROGRESS ACCORDING TO GREEK PRINCIPLES. 
 
 441 
 
 then, instead of reproducing the Parthenon, they contented themselves 
 with clothing the structure which the Romans had invented, and which 
 had been exclusively consecrated to Roman uses, with an architectu- 
 ral or decorative envelope far more appropriate than that which had 
 been employed under the empire from Augustus to Constantine. 
 Always in the front of progress, they still maintained their position 
 while working for their powerful patrons ; abandoning their Ionic 
 and Doric traditions under the influence of new conditions and 
 accepting the Roman architecture for what it w r as, they arranged 
 it, and out of a structure they at length produced an art. Instead 
 of weeping forever upon the steps of the Parthenon, like the Jews 
 among the ruins of Solomon’s temple, they educed out of the effete 
 art of Rome in the third century the art of Byzantium. 
 
 We have observed that the Athenians of antiquity never invented, 
 but combined, purified, perfected. They were the best editors of the 
 works of mankind, because everything which they received, whether 
 in art or in philosophy, passed through the alembic of an elevated 
 and logical spirit ; thus, under Pericles, out of the experiments of the 
 Ionians and Dorians, they deduced the architecture and sculpture of 
 the Parthenon ; from the schools of Pythagoras, Parmenides, çmd 
 Zeno, and from the empiric system of Ionia, Plato and Aristotle were 
 born. And, at a later period, this same Greek race retained in its 
 impoverished blood energy enough to develop from the worn-out art 
 of old Rome that vigorous offspring which we call Byzantine archi- 
 tecture, the mother of everything which merits the name of architec- 
 ture since the days of Constantine. 
 
 Our mediæval ancestors, like the Greeks, whom they succeeded in 
 the West, were lovers of progress, and formed a complete whole out 
 of the scattered traditions and fragments of anterior arts. Like the 
 Greeks, also, they never paused in their progress, and, after having 
 thus built up an art, they continued to move onward, till they finally 
 brought about its fall by the abuse of its own principles ; after hav- 
 ing had their sophists, their descendants came under the yoke of a 
 Roman protectorate, as it were, to play once more the part of the 
 old Greeks, and to debase the architecture of Rome. When we 
 shall have become weary of contemplating this last and pale reflec- 
 tion of a glory which is not our own, we shall, perhaps, like the 
 Greeks at Byzantium, avail ourselves of our own resources, and once 
 more, by reverting to the principles which our ancestors followed 
 
442 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 with such signal success, find a new application of a form of art 
 which has ceased to obtain expression or comprehension among us. 
 
 Modern society is floundering about among many strange contra- 
 dictions, and not the least among these is that those who approve and 
 defend the revival of classic architecture among us are pursuing a 
 course diametrically opposed to that always followed by the Greeks 
 of antiquity. Now if, in respect to antique art, the Greeks were 
 capricious and extravagant, while the Romans were the real artists, 
 the classic revivalists are logical in throwing aside the productions of 
 mediaeval art ; but if the Greeks were the artists, and the Romans 
 evidently the barbarians who sought to civilize themselves by contact 
 with their proteges, it is the genius of the Greeks which ought to sur- 
 vive in art, and not that of the Romans ; but the peculiarity of Greek 
 genius was constant mobility ; rather than stop or retrograde, it pre- 
 ferred to move on even towards a decline, if it could not find a profit- 
 able field for its labors by taking up a foreign art. The Greeks did 
 not throw aside Roman architecture when the wearied empire placed 
 its art in their hands, but regenerated and rejuvenated it, so that the 
 art was not onty revived into a condition of health, but enabled to 
 furnish the elements of new styles to the whole West and to a part of 
 the East. Now, referring here to the question of the arts alone, let 
 us not forget that between the Greeks and the Romans there was a 
 diametrical opposition of principles. Whether in a political, govern- 
 mental point of view, whether in respect to civilization, the Romans 
 were inferior or superior to the Greeks, or whether the Roman unifi- 
 cation has or has not been of immense benefit to humanity, I do not 
 propose to discuss ; but it is certain that this unification was entirely 
 opposed to the Greek spirit, as every such tendency must be to every 
 artistic people. Yet the conquered Greeks have always been regarded 
 as superior to the Romans by all the distance which separates a 
 tragedy of Sophocles from an ordinance of police. Artistic peoples 
 have always been exclusive in their nature, apt to coalesce within nar- 
 row social limits. The Greeks and Egyptians, who were the artistic 
 races of antiquity, always, even to the end, entertained for the bar- 
 barian, for the foreigner, sentiments of contempt and repulsion. But 
 the Roman cosmopolite could not be an artist. There was, on the 
 other hand, a real art in France at the feudal epoch, because isolation 
 was then, as it has ever been in the history of the world, favorable to 
 the development of art. 
 
ART OF THE GREEKS IN SUBJECTION. 
 
 443 
 
 The part which the Romans played in the history of civilization 
 was so really beautiful and grand, that they can well afford to dispense 
 with any credit which is not actually their due. In their conduct 
 with reference to art they were perfectly consistent. Thus, if we 
 look at their administration of justice, we shall find that, in their 
 earlier history, it was based upon absolute principles, like the laws 
 of the Twelve Tables, for instance ; but, as soon as the empire was 
 established, it was found that the strict application of this system was 
 in contradiction to the spirit and customs of the nations under their 
 control; therefore they instituted prœtors, or interpreters of the law, 
 leaning rather towards equity than towards the letter. In the same 
 manner, in the domain of philosophy they had their stoics, whose 
 systems were no longer confined to a text, a written law, but accom- 
 modated to the various conditions of the human mind, to local cir- 
 cumstances and traditions, and to the customs and prevailing ideas 
 of their time. This explains how, in their buildings, they gave a 
 place to Greek arts, considering structure as a written law, but 
 admitting of very different applications. It agrees perfectly with 
 their spirit as the great civilizers and levellers of the world; but it is 
 quite inadmissible to suppose that the Greeks, because they accepted 
 the part assigned them in this great drama, thereby definitely aban- 
 doned their own art, so logical and elevated in its tone and so abso- 
 lute in its principles. It is true that the Greeks worked for their 
 masters, but they never undertook to demonstrate to them the princi- 
 ples of their exclusive art, because they well knew that this very 
 exclusiveness would render these principles unacceptable to their con- 
 querors. Although the distinctive spirits of these two races seemed 
 to be perfectly amalgamated in Roman architecture, yet the same 
 fundamental antipathy which exhibited itself before Paulus Æmilius 
 still existed, and, as soon as the Roman Empire was established at 
 Byzantium, it was once more openly developed. Notwithstanding 
 the partiality of Adrian, and in spite of the wise and moderate spirit 
 of the Automnes, the Greeks always regarded the Romans as bar- 
 barians. The Greek did not believe in the kind of work he did for 
 his powerful masters ; he sold or lent his labor, but he cherished his 
 principles and his worship of art in his own breast, fondly looking 
 forward to the day when he could express himself in perfect freedom. 
 There is enough of this Greek spirit of antagonism left in our repub- 
 lic of the arts to make this phase in the history of architecture well 
 worth a careful study. 
 
444 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 The Romans never appeared to have been sensible to lmrtnony of 
 proportions ; they were an ostentatious people, who would have sac- 
 rificed the most beautiful proportions for the sake of introducing a 
 few columns of marble, porphyry, or granite. So far as Roman struc- 
 ture is concerned, if it always produces a grand effect, it is because 
 it is true and carefully calculated ; these qualities insensibly recom- 
 mend it to the eye. But, as we have had occasion to say before, the 
 decorative envelope which covered this structure often detracted from 
 its grandeur and majesty ; certainly, this envelope never conferred 
 these qualities on the building to which it was applied. I am firmly 
 convinced that if we could see to-day any of the antique monuments 
 of Rome preserved intact, apart from the immense interest they would 
 have in our eyes and apart from the dimensions of the masses and 
 the richness of material, we should have the same feeling of disap- 
 pointment that arises on viewing for the first time the interior of St. 
 Peter’s at Rome, - — a disappointment resulting simply from the want 
 of proportion in the architectural features with which that enormous 
 structure is clothed. Deprive the interior of St. Peter’s of its great 
 stucco pilasters and of its entablatures, on whose projections a man 
 might ride on horseback, take away its monstrous statues, its panelled 
 incrustations, and all the ornaments which encumber and deface its 
 lines, and we should have left a great hall which would appear what 
 it really is, colossal. It is only at twilight, when the masses alone 
 can be seen, that the true grandeur of St. Peter’s is fully apparent ; 
 but in broad daylight no idea can be formed of its actual size, unless 
 the eyes are so shaded with the hand as to embrace only the pave- 
 ment of the church, that is to say, a plain tranquil surface, quietly 
 decorated with compartments of marble and porphyry, toned down 
 by an accumulation of dust. 
 
 The law of the predominance of masses was rigorously applied by 
 the artists of the Byzantine Empire, who preserved enough of the old 
 Greek spirit to appreciate its primary importance, and it was observed 
 also in the architecture of the Caliphs, of the Moors, of the Persians, 
 and of the Romanesque builders of the earlier part of the Middle 
 Ages. I cannot say, of course, that this second-hand art was at all 
 comparable to Hellenic art, nor that the sophists of the Alexandrian 
 schools were equal to Plato, nor that the Song of Roland rivals the 
 Iliad in all respects ; but, I repeat, we must press on, and not waste 
 our lives in vain regrets. 
 
BYZANTINE INTERIORS. 
 
 445 
 
 In order that the transformation effected by the Byzantine archi- 
 tects may lie better understood, the reader is referred to Big. 96. At 
 A is traced the section of one of those grand Roman rooms divided 
 by bays, whose construction is good, simple, and effective. Now, 
 observe, the column B is out of scale with the room, and its full 
 entablature is a feature of undue prominence, concealing by its pro- 
 jection an important part of the arch above and of the tympanum D ; 
 notice also that, to the spectator at H, the column will be equal in 
 length to the arc a b, the entablature to the arc b c, and the half-vault 
 to the arc c d ; that the length of the arc c d is reduced by the im- 
 portance given to the points represented by a, b, and c, and that con- 
 sequently the development of the vault, which should be and is the 
 most important feature in the geometrical drawing, loses much of 
 
 Fig. 96. 
 
 its importance in perspective. In the proportions of a vaulted room 
 it is very essential that the supporting members should not appear 
 
446 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 more important than is absolutely necessary. Now, in the example 
 presented here, it is evident that this important rule is disregarded, 
 the arc a c representing the space occupied by the column and en- 
 tablature to the eye of the observer at H, while the arch above is 
 represented to the eye only by the small arc c cl. 
 
 But the Byzantine artists, although they did not essentially modify 
 the construction of this room, were not, like the Romans, the slaves 
 of a traditionary form, and, instead of a grand order with an entabla- 
 ture, which really has no significance in an interior, they used a pier, 
 as at A', relieved by engaged columns or by colonnettes in the angles, 
 without the entablature. In order to develop the arch more fully, 
 they made it more than a semicircle, and, instead of roofing each bay 
 with a cross-vault formed in the Roman manner by the intersection 
 of two wagon-vaults at right angles, they used a dome, the support- 
 ing pendentives between the four arches of the bay being formed of 
 a series of superimposed small arches, as represented at A'. Their 
 ornamentation was flat and delicate everywhere, and so subordinated 
 to the structure as to increase the apparent size of the room ; its duty 
 being to decorate the principal lines and surfaces of the structure 
 rather than to conceal and falsify them by the application of extra- 
 neous and arbitrary forms. Thus the view is uninterrupted by en- 
 tablatures and merely ornamental projections, the structure has its full 
 value, and the decoration serves rather to express than to conceal the 
 kind and amount of work performed by each member. The proper 
 proportions between the vault and its supporters are restored. 
 
 It is well in passing to glance for a moment at the interior archi- 
 tecture of the seventeenth century, and to observe how far from, the 
 pure and reasonable type supplied by the Byzantine Greeks were the 
 threatening cornices of that period, with their enrichments of gigantic 
 figures, vases, and garlands. 
 
 But the artists of Byzantium, in endeavoring to restore to architec- 
 ture a greater delicacy of proportions, did not stop here. It would 
 seem reasonable to suppose that the moment the orders became, as 
 in Roman architecture, mere decorative accessories and consequently 
 no longer absolute but only relative in their proportions, these propor- 
 tions would at once have become variable. But, like true barbarians, 
 the Romans, in forcing the Greek orders into their architecture, 
 considered probably that they thus evinced their good taste as ama- 
 teurs ; they imported these orders like the latest fashions, and became 
 
BYZANTINE TRANSFORMATIONS OF THE ORDERS. 447 
 
 absolute in the form of them, thus making themselves more Greek 
 than the Greeks, just as the modern architectural classicists are more 
 antique than the ancient themselves. 
 
 To be classic, in the modern acceptation of the word, that is, to 
 follow the letter instead of the spirit of antiquity, harmonized admira- 
 bly with the idea of the Romans, who administered but did not dis- 
 cuss. There is room to suspect, on the other hand, that the Greeks, 
 who never imposed an absolute and official fashion in art, were but 
 poor administrators. The orders, therefore, and especially the richest 
 of the orders, the Corinthian, were preserved as an unalterable law 
 by the Romans to the very last ; but when architectural Rome at 
 length delivered itself up unconditionally into the hands of the 
 Greeks, these artists, in accepting the Roman architecture, naturally 
 received with it the orders of which they themselves had been the 
 first to dictate the proportions. Yet, the orders having, in the 
 Roman application, merely a decorative significance, they treated 
 them as such, and subjected them to innumerable transformations, 
 or rather they preserved only the column with its capital, rarely 
 using the entablature, which really lost its logical significance when 
 the order ceased to constitute the monument and when the cor- 
 nice was no longer the eaves of the roof ; and the column itself, 
 with its capital, they varied in form and proportion, in the true 
 Greek spirit, to suit the exigencies of the position to which it was 
 applied. Thus, if a capital was placed in an interior at a great 
 height from the eye when compared to the distance from which it 
 could be viewed horizontally, they either, as in G (Fig. 96), made it 
 flat and projecting, . so that it might have full value as seen from 
 beneath, or they lengthened it, as at I, so that to the beholder at 0 
 both subtended equal arcs /' m and 1 m. Thus the Greek resumed 
 his perfect freedom and with it his spirit of reason. Now if the 
 Romanesque architects of the Middle Ages sometimes appeared to be 
 ignorant of these new principles of proportions, their lay successors 
 in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries in France put them in practice 
 with a geometrical rigor interesting to observe. 
 
 The Roman system of proportions, then, was overturned by the 
 Greeks themselves the moment they were in a position to follow their 
 instincts and once more have an art of their own. The time when 
 the largest monuments did not in superficial dimensions exceed 
 fifteen hundred square feet had passed by ; the new civilizations 
 
443 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 required the occupation of enormous surfaces, and it was found con- 
 venient and profitable at this new starting-point of architectural de- 
 velopment to make use of all that was good and practical in Roman 
 work. These conditions were accepted by the last of the Greeks, 
 and, in accepting them, they did not go back to their own beautiful 
 and venerated art of antiquity and endeavor to torture it so that it 
 might tit these new necessities, but they frankly adopted another, 
 and, unimpeded by prejudices or patriotic traditions, placed all their 
 intelligence and all their logical spirit at the service of the actual re- 
 quirements of the day. Here is an excellent example for us, if we 
 only knew how to profit by it. Rut what did the Latins of the Re- 
 naissance do when they were placed in a somewhat similar position ? 
 They immediately availed themselves, not of Roman art reformed 
 by the Byzantine Greeks, but of Roman art deformed by a sort of 
 administrative regimen, although redeemed somewhat by the delicate 
 handiwork of the exotic Greeks. But as for the Italians, wavering, 
 as they had been, from the fourth to the fourteenth century, between 
 Byzantine and German influences, using forms of whose origins and 
 principles they were ignorant, when at length they were prepared for 
 a fundamental reform in architecture they had no system of their own 
 to fall back upon and develop according to the new light around 
 them, and so, naturally, they had recourse to the old official art of 
 the empire. They lost nothing by this change from their previous 
 indecision. With France, on the other hand, the situation was very 
 different ; her Latinitv had ever been more theoretical than practical, 
 and, in the midst of the moral revolution of the Renaissance, she had 
 an art of her own, developed out of her own resources to meet her 
 own needs according to her own spirit, an art full of capacity for 
 new expression, full of the elements of life ; and yet, when the epoch 
 of active reform came, she rejected this entirely, and betook herself 
 to Italian copies of a degraded art, which the Greeks, whom we still 
 pretend to admire so much, had ignoininiously thrown aside at the 
 first opportunity ! While waiting for three centuries in vain for an 
 explanation of these inconsistencies, we have been obliged in France 
 to submit to a tenacious and jealous official routine, based upon these 
 very inconsistencies, and pushing their results to the last extremities 
 of a misunderstood classical ism. 
 
 But even at Byzantium the Greek spirit was not entirely free from 
 the interference of barbarous power; that active intelligence, enthu- 
 
INTRODUCTION OP PENDENTIVES. 
 
 449 
 
 siastic for intelligent reform, was compelled once more to submit to 
 the relentless hand of political organization ; again it was fated that 
 the formula should triumph over the spirit, and by an apparent return 
 towards one of the forms admitted by Greek genius, to stifle that 
 breath, which, transient as it was, served nevertheless to inspire the 
 Romanesque architecture of the West. 
 
 At Rome, in the name of the Greeks, the free advance of architec- 
 ture had been impeded, the progress of which they had been the 
 apostles had been stopped, and, in their name, style had been petrified 
 in a law. Even at Byzantium they were equally misunderstood, and, 
 after their first effort to harmonize form with structure, an effectual 
 stop was put to their work, when the Nestorians, who were the most 
 enlightened and progressive among them, were exiled. Far from the 
 capital of the Eastern Empire these exiles laid the foundations of an 
 art more rational even than that of Byzantium ; and yet, while solici- 
 tous for the more complete development of their own art, they did 
 not, like modern colonists, sacrifice to it those which were indigenous 
 to the country, and which had been naturally developed out of local 
 necessities and customs. 
 
 The ancient Greeks of Attica never admitted the vault into their 
 constructions ; but, after having been the submissive artisans of the 
 Romans for several centuries, they became familiar with it, although 
 they had but little if any influence over its form or principles, for 
 this was a feature of which the Romans were peculiarly jealous ; it 
 was a part of their system which the Greeks, as men of taste, were 
 regarded as good enough to decorate, but not to modify in any of 
 its essentials. But at Byzantium, and in the Roman Oriental monu- 
 ments, they were suffered to make one innovation, — to introduce 
 pendentives into the Roman system of vaulting. This, it is true, 
 was an important modification and a very natural deduction from the 
 intersection of wagon-vaults with hemispherical vaults, — a deduc- 
 tion, moreover, to whose development, through Greek genius, the 
 atmosphere of Byzantium seemed better fitted than that of Rome A 
 but the Greeks still retained the semicircular arch, which in their 
 hands continued to be the generator of wagon and cross vaulting, 
 and of the cupola. 
 
 * This deduction of the pendentives from the intersection of hemispherical and wagon vaults 
 is so natural, that it seems strange not to find the pendentive in any known Boman structure 
 before St. Sophia at Constantinople. It is therefore allowable to attribute this innovation, or 
 rather this deduction of a consequence so logical, to the Greek artists of Byzantium. 
 
 29 
 
450 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Neither of the three triangles which we have described above, and 
 referred to as generators of proportions among the Greeks, can be 
 applied to the formation of the round arch, as the angle at the apex 
 in each case is less than 90°. If, for instance, it is proposed to make 
 the base A B (Fig. 97) of the Egyptian triangle ecpial to the diameter 
 of an arch at its point of springing, a round arch described on this 
 base will not touch the apex C, the radius being equal to two parts 
 and the height C D to two and a half ; but, in order that the apex C 
 may coincide with the key of the arch, we must take the points where 
 the perpendiculars dropped from the centres of the two sides of the 
 triangle intersect the base, and from these points as centres describe 
 the arcs A C and B C, thus producing that broken curve which, in 
 modern language, is known as the ogive* or pointed arch. 
 
 It is certain that this arch was in common use among the schools 
 which issued from the Byzantine stock after the sixth century, and 
 we know that it was made the point of departure for an entirely 
 new system of construction by the offshoot in France in the twelfth 
 century. 
 
 Fig. 97. 
 
 It is interesting here to remark that the genius of the antique 
 Greeks attained relative perfection in art only by a long series of 
 tentative processes all tending to the same end. They reached the 
 purity of the Parthenon only by induction through the successive 
 ameliorations of a great many experiments in the Doric order. From 
 the great temple of Selinus to the Parthenon there is an insensible 
 gradation, but in all the intermediate stages we have always the same 
 order; the order had been formed; nothing essential was added to 
 or subtracted from it; but the ultimate perfection of proportions was 
 
 * See article Ogive, in the “ Diet, raisonné de l’arch. franç.” 
 
GREEK INFLUENCE ON ORIENTAL ARCHITECTURE. 451 
 
 the result of a long series of practical observations and trials on the 
 same given theme, following always a logical method without devia- 
 tions or hesitations. In the same manner the scattered fragments of 
 the Greek school, although intermingled with Roman traditions and 
 entangled among Asiatic influences, still retained enough of that del- 
 icate and well-studied sentiment of proportions, which had rendered 
 the Greek art of antiquity so illustrious, to purify every architectural 
 work they participated in, after the establishment of the Eastern 
 Empire and when the internal dissensions of that empire had ceased 
 to disturb the peaceful development of the arts. And it is worthy 
 of remark also, that all the arts which arose in the East and in Egypt 
 after this epoch, and in which we can detect the presence of this 
 precious Greek vein, were developed and perfected, not by rejecting 
 the local arts, but by receiving and working them up to a higher 
 standard. 
 
 Even while under the control of the Roman Empire, the Greek 
 artists often succeeded in abandoning the illogical mixture of the 
 lintel and arch in the same architectural composition, and sometimes 
 even sprung the round Roman arch with its concentric mouldings 
 directly from the column ; * thus, even at that early day, making a 
 practical use of the projection of the capital to receive the archive! t. 
 Although the slender Corinthian column seemed crushed under the 
 weight of the heavy round arch thus imposed on it, the novelty of 
 the idea and the evident reasonableness of it justified the inconsis- 
 tency for the time. We must not forget, too, that Greek artists, 
 working for masters as barbarous as they were magnificent, had no 
 leisure to seek for extreme refinement of proportions. If such re- 
 searches would perhaps have had some success under Hadrian, under 
 Diocletian they would have been mere lost time. 
 
 But after the introduction of Islamism into history, the scattered 
 followers of the Greek school often found themselves among barbari- 
 ans, who, in the absence of any artistic taste or preference, left them 
 a greater liberty of design ; under these circumstances, the Greek 
 enthusiastically resumed his studies of form and proportion, experi- 
 mented with the arch and column, and sought for other curves than 
 the semicircle. From these bold but intelligent experiments resulted 
 many architectural combinations singularly beautiful both in sweep 
 of line and harmony of proportions. 
 
 * See Sixtli Discourse, Fi; 
 
452 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Thus, in the twenty-first year of the Hegira (a. d. G41), the mosque 
 of Amron was built at Cairo. It was this Amron who, at the in- 
 stance of John Philopon, the grammarian, demanded of Omar the 
 preservation of the precious library of Alexandria, after the capture 
 of that city. The reply of the caliph is familiar to all : “ The books 
 of which you speak either do or do not agree with that which is 
 written in the book of God. If they do agree with it, then the 
 Koran is sufficient and these books are useless. If they do not agree, 
 they certainly should be destroyed.” The books were burned. Now 
 no one can suppose that this Omar had architects with him, and we 
 know that there were many Greek refugee artists in Egypt. The 
 
 Fig. 98. 
 
 immense porticos built around the court of this mosque are full ot 
 the Byzantine Greek spirit. Fig. 98 presents two bays ot this por- 
 tico. We see here that the Greek architects made use of columns 
 taken from buildings erected under the empire, and raised on their 
 capitals arches of a new and very elegant form and of a sweep of 
 
THE ARCHITECTURE OE THE CALIPHS. 
 
 453 
 
 line indicating a very delicate feeling for proportions. All travellers 
 who have visited this mosque agree in their testimony that the effect 
 of these bays is striking in the highest degree, and that they have 
 never been surpassed in nobility of proportions or elegance of aspect. 
 They were described thus : — 
 
 The base A B of the Egyptian triangle A B C is the level of the 
 centres of the arches, which are traced in the manner indicated in 
 Big. 97. The point C being taken as the summit of an equilateral 
 triangle DEC, the base of this triangle gives the level of the tops 
 of the capitals. Thus the former triangle generates the arch proper, 
 and the latter the position of the arch form relative to the columns. 
 In order to avoid the weak effect of dropping a vertical line B A from 
 the starting-point of the curve A C on to the capital, the line of the 
 arc is continued below the level A B to the point G, thus obtaining, 
 above the block of masonry surmounting the capital, a striking point 
 of departure which practically gives a peculiar firmness to the con- 
 struction of the arcade. In this invention we behold the true Greek 
 artist, adorning the triumph of the new conquerors with the remains 
 of monuments which he himself had built for his former masters, 
 and still preserving enough activity and freshness of genius, although 
 that genius had been so long crushed and humiliated by oppression, 
 to set about perfecting the new art which fortune had placed in his 
 hands. 
 
 Most of the Nestorians, when banished from Byzantium, in the 
 fifth century, emigrated to Persia, where they found an indigenous 
 art languishing on its own sod ; mingling with this local art the tra- 
 ditions of the Roman structure, they soon created a new style ex- 
 pressed in monuments of extreme elegance and of carefully studied 
 proportions. These Nestorians were the only people who could have 
 afforded an artistic element to those nomadic tribes which followed 
 Mahomet when he contemplated the conquest of all the East. The 
 Semitic races, the Arabs, had no aptitude for the arts ; and the archi- 
 tecture which is conventionally called Arabic is in fact only an off- 
 shoot from that Persian architecture which had been modified, as we 
 have seen, by the Nestorian Greeks. This last reflection of Greek 
 genius has hardly yet ceased to be brilliant. 
 
 As we have already intimated, the genius of the Greeks was not 
 inventive ; in the domain of the intellect, it arranged, established rela- 
 tions, deduced consequences, and pushed the art of reason to the last 
 
454 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 limits ; in material affairs, its peculiarity consisted in conferring upon 
 the form which fell under its power the truest and most beautiful 
 expression of which it was capable; without changing the principles 
 of that form, it made it flexible to all the uses of art ; it never created 
 monsters ; the most abstract products of its imaginative activity were 
 embodied with a harmony so exact and well calculated as to give them 
 the appearance of a natural growth. Even in mathematical studies, 
 so much cultivated by the Greeks of the Lower Empire, they merely 
 took up and deduced further results from the already extensive re- 
 searches of their predecessors. The religious belief of the new mas- 
 ters of the East forbade all imitation of organic nature in the art 
 which they allowed the Nestorians to practise for them ; and these 
 Greek artists, who, like their ancestors, found themselves the ser- 
 vants of barbaric conquerors, threw themselves resolutely into the 
 only path which was open to their genius. Geometry became the 
 principle, not only of all form, but of all ornament. Architecture 
 was suddenly denuded of the richest features which had distin- 
 guished it in antiquity ; figures, statuary, and all the inexhaustible 
 wealth of floral design disappeared from Oriental art. The square 
 and compass became the masters ; and yet, even with these resources 
 apparently so poor and unpromising, under these conditions so nar- 
 rowing in their exactions, the artists whom Ave call Arabs succeeded 
 in creating marvels of architectural beauty. It is easy to conceive 
 how proportion then became one of the most efficacious means ol 
 procuring elegance and beauty of form. Indeed, in this architecture 
 of the caliphs, proportion Avas everything, for no device Avas admitted 
 to conceal or modify its defects ; ornamentation Avas used to obtain 
 harmony, but its only value Avas in the mass : it Avas like embroidery 
 upon stuffs, it charmed Avithout engrossing the mind. 
 
 The destiny of Greek genius in the history of art Avas very singu- 
 lar ; although almost always in a state of servitude to foreign power, 
 it still maintained its brilliant vitality, and had at its command 
 resources to satisfy the most various tastes ; inspired by an ideal of 
 intellectual perfection, those marvellous Avorkmen could be dismayed 
 by no problem, hoAvever novel in its conditions ; always investigat- 
 ing, they abvays found ; although ahvays slaves, their intelligence 
 ruled their masters and shaped them for transmission to posterity. 
 They Avere the preceptors alike of the Romans and of the barbaric 
 hordes of Arabia, and the last effort of their genius exerted an 
 
ABANDONMENT OE THE ORDERS BY TIIE GREEKS. 455 
 
 influence which was felt in the furthest borders of the \Vest, and 
 bore fruit there even in the fifteenth century. 
 
 Hitherto we have, considered proportion absolutely, without regard 
 to the system of construction or to the practical objects which build- 
 ings are to satisfy ; we have treated only of the general side of the 
 principles of harmony as applied to architectural design, and, in 
 illustration, have purposely selected monuments very different in 
 character and epoch. We have thus been enabled to recognize the 
 existence of certain generic laws belonging to humanity, wherever 
 and however developed. But there are other laws evidently depend- 
 ing upon such facts as the nature of materials, workmanship, man- 
 ners and customs resulting from peculiarities of climate, certain apti- 
 tudes of races, wealth more or less developed, taste for luxury, local 
 necessities, or political condition. If we sometimes discover identical 
 principles of proportion among the antique Greeks and the mediaeval 
 artists, Ave shall quite as often discover an apparent absence of any 
 analogy whatever between the Greek temple and the Gothic church. 
 But it must be remembered that a method based upon reason, be- 
 cause it is so based, must lead to different results the moment it is 
 applied to elements themselves opposed. We do not accuse a man 
 of contradiction because he complains of warmth in July and of cold 
 in January ; the contrast of bis sensations under different circum- 
 stances is no argument against the unity of his organization. But 
 when we see men clothed with furs in summer and with linen in 
 winter, wearing long garments at the gymnasium and short garments 
 at a funeral ceremony, we are justified in accusing them of foolish in- 
 consistency. As the distinction between these general and especial 
 laws has not for a long time been recognized or understood, there 
 has resulted an inextricable confusion in all attempts at a philosophi- 
 cal review of the history of architecture. Some artists are purists in 
 the antique and some in the mediaeval, and neither party lias taken 
 into consideration the especial or local laws which created and should 
 still create distinctions of form and stvle. 
 
 The Greeks reasoned justly when they adopted the perpendicular 
 post or column and the horizontal traverse or lintel, and in giving to 
 each of these proportions relative to its function. The Romans rea- 
 soned but poorly when, in applying the order thus formed to their 
 vaulted monuments as a mere accessory, they retained these relative 
 
456 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 proportions absolutely. But the Byzantine Greeks, although they 
 admitted the principles of Roman structure, were very careful not 
 to consider the order as a type of fixed proportions. 
 
 In the West, in the Middle Ages, the column became independent 
 of the order ; it was elongated or stunted, in accordance with the 
 function it filled in the general architectural system ; it was slender 
 or thick, as required by the nature of the materials employed ; for it 
 is unreasonable, all other things being equal, to give to a granite col- 
 umn the same diameter as to a column cut in a friable sandstone. 
 To censure the proportions of the columns of the nave of Notre Dame 
 of Paris, because they do not agree with the acknowledged proportions 
 of the Grecian or Roman orders, betrays a remarkable ignorance of 
 the meaning of proportions, which are nothing more than the proper 
 relations between the parts and the whole, these relations being im- 
 posed, not by the parts on the whole, but by the whole on the parts. 
 In the Greek temple the part (that is, the order ) was in reality the 
 whole ; the proportions of the order compelled the proportions of the 
 entire structure ; but when the order became only a part of a general 
 composition, it lost its quality as an order and became a subordinate 
 member ; it abandoned the entablature, for example, and was reduced 
 to the column alone, — the point of support. Presently the column 
 itself lost its original proportions, to assume new ones relative to the 
 new place or function it tilled, or to the nature of the material in 
 which it Avas cut ; its capital and base submitted to similar variations 
 of height, projection, or strength, as required by the general compo- 
 sition of Avhicli they were component and essential parts. All this 
 Avas strictly logical. But it is possible in the arts to arrive at dis- 
 pleasing results even through a just process of reasoning, if choice of 
 form, a feeling for the beautiful, does not intervene as a corollary of 
 such reasoning. Thus the Prench architecture of the fifteenth cen- 
 tury is a true principle forced to the utmost limits of expression ; but 
 that architecture is objectionable, because of the form evolved from 
 the absolute application of this principle ; it passed into a state of 
 mere demonstration, of pure geometry ; it was a given problem 
 solved, it Avas not a conception of ait. 
 
 As soon as the order did not constitute the Avhole architecture of 
 a building, the order ceased to exist, because it no longer had any 
 right to exist as such. In the offshoots of Roman architecture, re- 
 constituted by the Greeks on neiv principles, the orders therefore dis- 
 
GEOMETRY IN EASTERN AND WESTERN ART. 
 
 457 
 
 appeared. There is no appearance of them either in the architecture 
 attributed to the Arabs or in the western mediæval architecture ; 
 these developments of style must be considered from an entirely differ- 
 ent point of view, although, as we have seen, there are certain general 
 laws of proportion common to both systems. Geometry became their 
 sovereign mistress, and it is not strange that the western artists from 
 the twelfth to the fifteenth century confounded architecture and geom- 
 etry under the same personification of art. Yet, while the great artists 
 of the East and West, of the Greek schools of Alexandria and of the 
 lay schools of France, recognized geometry as an ever-present element 
 in the general conception as well as in the detail of all their architec- 
 tural works, they still preserved a sentiment of form so true, an appre- 
 ciation of beauty so just, that, at least to the vulgar eye, this senti- 
 ment and this appreciation seem to have been their supreme law ; it 
 was only in the subsequent degenerate epochs that architecture was 
 suffered to betray the geometrical processes from which it was evolved. 
 This is the point where the peculiar and distinctive genius of the two 
 peoples is most evident, and where it is most clear that the western 
 artists never imitated those of the East, although they had drawn 
 their inspiration from the same source. 
 
 If, as we have said, the Greeks were no inventors, the western men 
 were inventive to a remarkable degree. The Arabs, or, rather, the 
 Nestorians, their masters in art, did not change the Roman structure, 
 but contented themselves with modifying its envelope ; the geometry 
 which they called to their aid did not lead them to discover new sys- 
 tems of construction, but simply inspired new curves for their arches, 
 and was the generative element of all composition of ornament; in 
 their hands it became a plaything, and occupied the eye with endless 
 and marvellous combinations of lines. In the West, on the other 
 hand, geometry at once overturned the Roman structure, which was 
 no longer sufficiently scientific to meet the new emergencies of archi- 
 tecture ; every day it suggested new problems and laws of equilibrium 
 until then unknown ; with an inflexible logic, it proceeded from gen- 
 eral design to details, dictated form, imposed profiles, and, in short, 
 developed its energy with such rapidity and boldness, that, in the short 
 space of two centuries, there was no room left for the individuality of 
 the artist. It progressed like the inexorable laws of civilization. 
 
 In order that we may comprehend the differences between these 
 two forms of art, both of which became the slaves of geometry, let 
 
458 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 us enter the Alhambra and examine there one of the last buildings 
 due to what is called Arabic civilization. We perceive a structure 
 concrete, like that of the Romans, with antique plans, brick Avails, 
 masses maintained simply by the adherence of mortars ; light por- 
 ticos, whose delicate marble columns and spandrels of baked clay 
 and concrete support wainscotings of wood. In all this we see no 
 effort to obtain a structure other than that which prevailed at Rome 
 and of which remains may yet be seen in Pompeii. But these con- 
 crete masses of clay and brick and mortar are faced with stucco, pre- 
 senting to the astonished eye the most intricate geometrical decorative 
 combinations which it is possible to imagine. The men who inhab- 
 ited these palaces — contemplative spirits, pursuing a sort of serene 
 and dreamy fantasy in the midst of these lovely but aimless combina- 
 tions of ornament, floating in a vague sea of indefinite and sensuous 
 delight — certainly had little in common with the restless, energetic, 
 practical, logical races of the West. But if, on the other hand, we 
 enter the cathedral of Amiens, or into any of the more finished edi- 
 fices of the Middle Ages in the West, the first impression is a senti- 
 ment of unity ; the whole structure is comprehended at once ; no 
 detail distracts the eye from the general harmony ; it is grand : but if 
 we would examine into the means of execution, we are at once amazed 
 at the quantity of geometrical combinations which have aided in the 
 conception of the skeleton of the structure. 
 
 In the Arabic monument, geometry supplied the vestment ; in the 
 western mediaeval structure, it gave the body. In the Arabic monu- 
 ment, geometry had little part except in the decoration ; in mediaeval 
 architecture, where, at least after the thirteenth century, all decora- 
 tion was floral, geometry had ceased its work when the building 
 began to be ornamented. We can, indeed, discover in monuments 
 towards the close of the twelfth century in France some traces of the 
 influence of geometry in certain decorative parts, belonging to tradi- 
 tions anterior even to the Roman epoch. 
 
 Thus, in the angles of some great capitals of the second half of the 
 twelfth century, there is a kind of volute of a peculiar character, like 
 the massive curve of great leaves, curling inward at their extremi- 
 ties.* But, iu studying the curves of these volutes, they seem to 
 have been traced by a geometrical process. Thus (Fig. 99, at A) the 
 eye of the volute being at B, draw through this point the horizontal 
 
 * Choir of Notre Dame of Paris, St. Julian -le- Pauvre, the cathedral of Noyon. 
 
GOTHIC GEOMETRICAL VOLUTES. 
 
 459 
 
 line a b, the perpendicular c d , and the ohlirpie lines e f and g h at 
 angles of forty-live degrees ; a being the point of departure of the 
 curve, draw the perpendicular a i to the line e f ; from the point i, 
 the perpendicular ij to the line c d ; from the pointy, the perpen- 
 dicular/ k to the line g h ; and so on to the eye B of the volute. 
 Perpendiculars dropped from the centres of lines a i and ij will meet 
 at g on the line g h, the centre of the arc a i j ; perpendiculars 
 dropped from the centres of the lines j Jc and k l will meet at m on 
 the line e f the centre of the arc j k /, etc. Thus is obtained a 
 
 Fig. 99. 
 
 figure whose energetic curve recalls certain volutes of primitive Ionian 
 art. Other volutes are obtained by means of the equilateral triangle 
 (see Fig. 99, E) ; EG H being this triangle, strike the arc F G from 
 the point II ; divide the side G II in halves, and on the half G G' 
 construct the equilateral triangle GIG'; strike the arc G I from the 
 point G' ; divide the side I G' in halves, and on the half I L con- 
 struct the equilateral triangle I O L, striking the arc I 0 from the 
 point L, as a centre; and so on. The artists of the twelfth century 
 
460 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 obtained these geometrical methods of tracing volutes, not from the 
 Romans, but from another and much more remote source. Indeed, 
 to discover similar traces, we must penetrate to a very high Greek 
 antiquity, to Ionia especially ; for, between the ornaments of the end 
 of the twelfth century in France and certain Greek monuments of 
 Asia Minor there certainly exist some very striking relations. In the 
 profiles of mouldings too there is a singular resemblance ; the princi- 
 ples by which they have been formed are the same, and the curves 
 sometimes identical. 
 
 It needs no very intimate acquaintance with Greek monuments, 
 whether Ionian or Dorian, to recognize that the composition of 
 mouldings was regarded by their architects as one of the essential 
 parts of art ; and that this composition was not capricious, but in ac- 
 cordance with strict reason and with a very delicate feeling for form. 
 All the mouldings of this beautiful architecture were caressed, as it 
 were, lovingly. Now, in composing these mouldings, there are two 
 conditions to be observed : the function of the moulding whose pro- 
 file we are studying, and the effect we desire it to produce in its posi- 
 tion. A profile is good only when it answers to these conditions. 
 The substance in which the profile is moulded or cut may modify it, 
 without necessarily changing these principles. Thus, it is natural to 
 give to a profile cut in marble more delicacy and even meagreness 
 than to one formed out of a friable or coarser stone ; but such con- 
 siderations affect only the angles, in rendering it essential to give to 
 them more or less sharpness, or the hollows, in requiring more or less 
 depth. In either case, the principle remains the same. But to give 
 to wooden mouldings the same character of profile as to mouldings in 
 stone or marble, to interior mouldings the peculiarities of exterior 
 mouldings, are indications of extreme barbarism. The mediaeval 
 artists observed these laws in their architecture as carefully as the 
 Greeks themselves. If we may dare to draw a comparison, consider- 
 ing the very small number of Greek monuments remaining for our 
 inspection, the mediaeval builders pushed their observance of these 
 principles even further than their great prototypes. In Greek, as in 
 mediaeval architecture, the functions fulfilled by mouldings are three- 
 fold : they form a footing, support a projection, and mark a height 
 or frame in a void. In the first case, the moulding is a base or a 
 plinth ; in the second, a cornice ; in the third, a string-course, a frame 
 or architrave. A moulding has no reason outside of these three con- 
 
FUNCTION OF MOULDINGS. 
 
 401 
 
 ditions, as is proved in the best mediaeval as in the best Greek work. 
 These functions being thus prescribed, the profile is reduced to three 
 primitive dispositions, indicated by the three diagrams A, 13, C, in 
 Tig. 100, which are block-forms required by structural necessity. 
 These block-forms admitted, it remains to give them the particular 
 expression proper for the duties they are to perform and the positions 
 they are to occupy. They are useful features, and should produce a 
 certain effect by reason of their usefulness. The cornice A, if it is 
 an exterior feature, must protect the wall which it overhangs, and be 
 
 Fig. 100. 
 
 so contrived as to throw the rain-water far from its surface ; all the 
 lower members of the cornice must be cut in such a manner as to 
 have the appearance of sufficient strength to sustain the burden 
 imposed upon them. The string-course B / is nothing more than a 
 cincture or band, indicating in the exterior either the level of a floor, 
 or a change in the construction of a wall ; it is a projecting course of 
 masonry, which must seem strong enough to resist the superincum- 
 bent pressure or to mark a separation with emphasis. The archi- 
 
4G2 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Fig. 101. 
 
 trave or frame-moulding B panels a wall-surface or defines and gives 
 value to the boundaries or jambs of an aperture. The base or plinth 
 
GREEK CORNICES. 
 
 463 
 
 C sustains all the weight, gives the whole structure a footing on the 
 ground, and serves as a transition between the horizontal lines of the 
 ground and the vertical lines of the building. 
 
 Let us glance for a moment at some of the profiles invented by 
 Greek architects. Fig. 101 presents profiles of certain capitals and 
 cornices. A is the profile of the exterior cornice of the temple of 
 Castor and Pollux at Agrigentum. The under-cutting c, beneath the 
 main crown-moulding b, is to prevent the rain-water from running 
 down the face of the corona d, which is contrived to receive a broad 
 mass of light and to act as the main protection of the wall from the 
 wash of rains. The bed-moulds at e, under the projection of the 
 corona , are accentuated by deep cuttings, in order, by strongly 
 marked black horizontal lines, to relieve the mass of shadow thrown 
 by the corona. The principal superior moulding ( talon or cymatimn ) 
 receives the light, falling at an angle of forty-five degrees, at the point 
 y ; and the extreme projection above this moulding is emphasized by 
 a delicate line of shadow at h, between two lines of brilliant light; 
 the black line afforded by the under-cutting at c, like those in 
 the bed-moulds, serves to give life, transparency, and variety to the 
 shadows cast by the superimposed members. • This cornice thus not 
 only satisfactorily meets a practical necessity, but gratifies the eye 
 with an harmonious and carefully studied effect of light and shade. 
 
 The profile B of the capitals of the antes or pilasters in the pronaos 
 of the temple of Neptune at Pæstum, as it can receive no direct light, 
 is arranged to obtain effect only from the reflected light thrown up- 
 ward from the pavement, as indicated by the downward-facing curve 
 of the great moulding b' ; the sharp internal angle e with its black 
 line affords a line of demarcation between the two upper faces of the 
 profile. The same remarks are true of the profile C, which crowns 
 the architrave of the interior order. 
 
 The profile D of the antes of the Propylæa of Eleusis is also dis- 
 posed with a view to receiving reflected light only. Observe how 
 the upper fillet j falls back in order to emphasize the inclination of 
 the fillet / and give greater value to the line of reflected light it re- 
 ceives, and that the surface i has also an inclination to receive light 
 from below ; observe, too, that the torus Ji is contrived by contrast of 
 form and by position to increase the vivacity of the projection of the 
 abacus above it, and is undercut sharply and boldly at / to obtain a 
 well-defined shadow ; the gradual curve from the wall-face or shaft 
 
4C4 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 vi upward to l affords a transition between the perpendicular and 
 horizontal members by a gradual increase in the quantity of reflected 
 light as it approaches the torus, and the movement of this curve is 
 accentuated by successive horizontal lines of light and shade obtained 
 by a sort of serrated outline. 
 
 The section E of a fragment of frieze belonging to the temple of 
 Ceres at Eleusis also shows with what delicacy the Greeks made use 
 of reflected light in their mouldings. 
 
 F and G G' are exterior profiles from Pompeii. The section E is 
 entirely plunged in shade, with the exception of the border n of the 
 upper cymatium ; but this mass of shadow is relieved by the strong 
 reflected light on the fillet p contrasted with the deep line of unre- 
 lieved shadow supplied by the bold under-cutting o. The same re- 
 marks are true, even in a more marked degree, of the profile G G' 
 from the triangular forum.*' 
 
 If the profiles of Roman cornices recall these in their mass, it 
 must be admitted that in detail they exhibit neither the refinement 
 nor the nice observation of effects which distinguish their Greek 
 prototypes ; the Roman architect abandoned those undercuttings by 
 which the Greek so delicately emphasized his lines of light and gave 
 transparency to his masses of shadows ; the curves were badly studied 
 and conventional, the general outlines were formalized and indecisive, 
 and profiles were used indiscriminately for the interior and exterior. 
 It is easy, on the other hand, to see that the lay architects of the 
 twelfth and thirteenth centuries in France were influenced, in the 
 composition of profiles, by the same principles as the Greeks. An 
 examination of Eig. 102 will afford the proof of this fact. We find 
 here the same delicate study of curves, the same fine feeling for con- 
 trasts, the same means used to obtain certain effects of lights, shades, 
 and reflections, the same regard for the expression of the function of 
 the mouldings. There is nothing here borrowed from Roman art, 
 more especially from that Gallo-Roman art which, in respect to the 
 execution of all architectural details, had become degraded indeed. f 
 
 * See the work of M. Uchard published in the “ Kevue d’ Architecture ” of M. Daly, Vol. 
 XVIII. PI. 49 and 50. 
 
 + The profiles A date from the first half of the twelfth century, and belong to the interior 
 of the nave of the church of Vézelay (cornices or abaci of interior capitals). The profiles B 
 are exterior, and are from the old tower of Notre Dame of Chartres (about 1140). The profile 
 C crowns the exterior of the choir aisles of the cathedral of Paris (1165). The exterior profiles 
 D are from the church of Montréale (about 1180) ; the profile E is from a balustrade in the in- 
 terior of the church of Vézelay (about 1190) ; F is from the porch (about 1135), and G and H 
 are also exterior profiles from the same church and belong to about 1235. 
 
GOTHIC CORNICES. 
 
 4G5 
 
 Fig. 102. 
 
 In these examples, the larmiers , or drip-mouldings, a , the hollow 
 under-cuttings b, the cymatia c and d, the tori e, the cavettos f all 
 30 
 
46G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Fig. 103. 
 
 ~ o i ■/ 
 
 were to occupy and tlie function they were to fulfil ; hut, as the 
 
COMPARISON OF GREEK AND GOTHIC BASES. 
 
 407 
 
 atmosphere is less transparent in the climate of Western Europe than 
 in that of Greece and Italy, clearness of reflected lights were not 
 depended on to the same extent in studying for effects ; the profiles 
 were fuller, and the black lines, obtained by deep channels and under- 
 cuttings, were more frequently used to define, separate, and emphasize 
 the projections. As the mediæval monuments were much more ex- 
 tensive than those of Greece, it was also necessary, in composing the 
 mouldings, to take into consideration their greater distance from the 
 eye. 
 
 As regards bases, the analogy is still more striking. Eig. 103 
 contains some profiles of Greek bases.* They were all evidently 
 drawn to be viewed from above. They rested upon the ground and 
 conducted the eye from the vertical to the horizontal planes. They 
 were accentuated only by the delicate scotias or hollows a, or by 
 the black lines obtained by deep channels to define the tori. Ob- 
 serve how in the profile E the upper torus is flattened on its lower 
 section in order to disengage the fillet b and render it visible. No- 
 tice especially, also, the sweep of the lower torus c of the profile G, 
 which is given on a larger scale at c. 
 
 Let us consider now some profiles of French bases belonging to 
 the twelfth and thirteenth centuries (Eig. 104) ; but first let us repre- 
 sent at A the torus or echinus of a Doric capital inverted, selecting 
 one from the temple of Metapontis. Now the lower torus of the 
 bases 13 of the choir-columns in the cathedral of Paris reproduces 
 exactly the sweep of this echinus, which is a curve formed of three 
 arcs of a circle. The resemblance is even carried so far as to repeat 
 at. a part of the double fillet a in the Greek example. The upper 
 torus of the base 13 is slightly flattened on its upper surface as in 
 most of the Greek profiles (Eig. 103). The profiles C O', which 
 belong to the columns of the old tower of Notre Dame of Chartres, 
 certainly recall very vividly the Greek profiles B E in Eig. 103. 
 The profile G belongs to one of the bases of the choir-columns of 
 the abbey church of Vezelay.f The profiles at E plainly reproduce 
 the Greek example at 13 in Eig. 103. Like the Greeks, these lay 
 artists of the twelfth century considered that the tori of the bases 
 
 * A, from the antæ of the temple of Diana and of the Propylæa of Eleusis ; B, from the ante 
 of the Propylæa of Eleusis ; C, from the temple of Winged Victory at Athens ; D, from the 
 temple of Apollo at Bassæ ; E and G from the triangular forum of Pompeii ; F, from Pompeii. 
 
 + See in the “Diet, raisonné de l’arch. franç., du XI 0 au XV 0 siècle,” articles Ba.se and 
 Griffe. 
 
408 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 should never be described by a single sweep of the compass, but 
 that they should be so designed as to grasp the ground, as it were, 
 firmly, and be relieved by the graduated shadows of a well-accen- 
 tuated seotia. 
 
 In Pig. 103 we have given at C the profile of an Ionic base from 
 the temple of the Winged Victory at Athens, the great torus of which 
 is channelled horizontally ; the same peculiarity occurs in the neigh- 
 
 Fig. 104. 
 
 boring Pandroseum and in other Ionic buildings of the time of 
 Pericles. It is also not unfrequent in French monuments of the 
 twelfth century, particularly in the Southern provinces. Thus, Fig. 
 105 presents at A the profile of the base of a column in the town hall 
 of Saint-Antonin (Tarn-et-Garonne), the upper torus being channelled 
 horizontally, while it is evident that all the other mouldings of this 
 
COMPARISON OP GREEK AND GOTHIC SCULPTURE. 469 
 
 base have a very marked Greek character, as is the case also with the 
 base B from the church of Déols (Châteauroux) and with many 
 other examples of the twelfth century in that province. The shafts 
 of the columns of Berry belonging to the same epoch are banded 
 Avith delicate horizontal lines as indicated nt l>, — a peculiar treatment 
 which occurs in shafts of the epoch of the Sassanides and even much 
 later, as in the Alhambra at Grenada. It is Avell to observe here, 
 Avhile speaking of bases, that the artists of the twelfth century, when 
 they rested circular tori upon square plinths, took care to occupy 
 the angles of the latter with claAvs ( griffes ) to give greater apparent 
 strength to the footing and fill out the profile. This precaution the 
 
 Fig. 105. 
 
 Romans never observed ; it a vas a refinement peculiar to Greek and 
 mediaeval genius. I am aware that to associate such names as Athens 
 and Saint-Antonin, Pompeii and Déols, as I have done, Avili sound 
 strangely in some ears ; but AA r hat shall I do ? the monuments are 
 there, and if I have misrepresented them they Avili bear witness 
 against me. 
 
 But the remarkable analogies betAveen Greek art and the mediaeval 
 art of Prance do not cease with the profiles ; they exist also in the 
 sculpture. Pig. 106, for instance, exhibits a capital in the chapter- 
 room of the church of Vézelay (about 1160); this capital is in style 
 
470 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 much more Greek than Roman, especially the Roman which was 
 common in Gaul.* If a pupil of the school of Fine Arts should dis- 
 cover this capital in Macedonia or on the borders of the Bosphorus, 
 the Academy would certainly pronounce it very beautiful; but it has 
 the misfortune to be in its proper place supporting an undeniable 
 and inviolate vault of the twelfth century only one hundred and ten 
 miles from Paris. 
 
 Doubtless the artists who designed these profiles and carved these 
 capitals, in the twelfth or thirteenth century in France, were hardly 
 familiar with the monuments of Attica, Ionia, Magna Græcia, or Asia 
 Minor ; they were no archaeologists, but they had relations of race 
 with the old civilizations of the western parts of the East, and like 
 them they reasoned, loved the beautiful, profited by traditions, and 
 progressed. They adandoned the Roman structure, because it no 
 longer agreed with the manners and customs of modern times, and 
 formed a structure better suited to their needs, their materials, and 
 their social state, and, simply by reasoning as the Greeks reasoned 
 (for there are not two ways of reasoning on such a subject), they pres- 
 ently, in the execution of details, reached results analogous to those 
 obtained by the Greeks of antiquity. Even admitting that the sculp- 
 ture to which we have referred is due to an influence imported from 
 the East, we should not lose sight of the fact that the East was filled 
 with sculpture of every kind, especially with the debased sculpture of 
 the latter days of the empire, and at least be just enough to the 
 French mediaeval artists to acknowledge that, in choosing their 
 models, they chose those which most nearly approached the Greek 
 sentiment. But, as I have lately said, in the first part of the thir- 
 teenth century, French architecture abandoned these imported meth- 
 ods of sculpture and frankly adopted the local flora, thus once more 
 approaching the Greek prototype, not by imitating a Greek model, 
 but by making use of a Greek principle, namely, the incessant ap- 
 plication of new elements. 
 
 In the state of doubt and uncertainty into which the art of architec- 
 ture has fallen in the present epoch, in the midst of so many conflict- 
 ing doctrines all equally unreasonable, it becomes especially necessary 
 to bring to bear upon the subject an attentive criticism, and to dis- 
 
 * If the reader will turn to Fig. 35, in the Sixth Discourse, he will be struck by the intimate 
 relations evidently existing between the sculpture of this capital and that of the frieze of the 
 Golden Gate of Jerusalem. Whether this frieze belonged to the time of Herod the Great or to ( 
 that of Hadrian, it cannot be denied that it was executed by Greek artists. 
 
Fig. 106. 
 

 
 
 
SOURCE OE A NEW LIEE IN ART. 
 
 471 
 
 cover, if possible, the nature of those principles by virtue of which 
 the art has been developed in preceding ages. The fair conclusion 
 deduced from what we have set forth is that Greek and Roman art, 
 at bottom, have nothing in common ; that if Roman architecture be- 
 longs to a grand cosmopolitan people, if it is the fair expression of 
 that prodigious political civilization, it is not an architecture of artists, 
 but the architecture of a universal empire ; while, on the other hand, 
 if Greek architecture is indeed lovely, and if we really admire and 
 understand it as we claim to, we cannot at the same time admire 
 Roman architecture ; to adopt both is to embrace rigor of principles 
 and indifference of principles, it is to believe and not to believe. We 
 may also conclude that Roman art irrevocably declined, because it 
 borrowed forms from every quarter without seeking to harmonize 
 them with its system of structure ; that Greek art has been, and will 
 forever continue to be, an inexhaustible source of inspiration, simply 
 because its vital principle consisted in the true adaptation of form to 
 material and necessity ; and, finally, that, as we artists of the West 
 have more natural sympathy of mind with the Greeks than with the 
 Romans, and, like the Greeks, have an ever-present love for truth at 
 the bottom of our hearts, the domination of Rome in matters of art, 
 under which, by one of those reactions so frequent in the history of 
 the world, we are now laboring, must be merely temporary, and we 
 must spring to a new life in art as soon as truth is relieved from the 
 stifling grasp of the last barbarian. 
 
TENTH DISCOURSE. 
 
 ON THE ARCHITECTURE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.'- ON METHOD. 
 
 nmst nce( ^ s ^ )C confessed that modern architects, sur- 
 
 rounded as they are by prejudices and traditions, and 
 embarrassed by an habitual confusion in respect to 
 their art, are neither inspired by original ideas nor 
 guided by definite and Avell-understood principles ; a 
 fact the more plainly betrayed the more elaborate and 
 complex are the monuments they are called upon to design and exe- 
 cute. 
 
 The libraries of our architects are fnll of works on the history and 
 practice of art, and abound with drawings and engravings ; yet if, in 
 the midst of this affluence of the material elements of design, the 
 artist is required to erect the most modest structure, his mind is at 
 once closed to the reception and expression of new ideas for the sake 
 of being correct in respect to his imitation of old ones, and refuses to 
 draw any true inspiration from these accumulated but disordered 
 resources. Evidences of nice appreciation and careful study, delicate 
 and elegant execution, abound on all sides ; but indications of really 
 new ideas are rare indeed, and still more rare the rational observa- 
 tion of a principle. Our monuments seem to be bodies without souls, 
 the fragments of some departed civilization, a language incomprehen- 
 sible even to those who employ it. A thoughtless veneration for a 
 certain class of forms has taken the place of originality of conception 
 and creative ideas, and our artists remind one of those good people 
 who believe that their salvation depends upon their repeating certain 
 Latin prayers, which they do not understand and which they murder 
 without scruple ; although it may well be doubted if our artists have 
 
ARCHITECTURE OE THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 473 
 
 even the virtue of faith in their scrupulous Latinity. Is it surprising 
 that the public remains cold and indifferent in the presence of works 
 thus void of ideas, and too often of reason, and that its appreciation 
 is limited to considerations of cost ? “ This is very expensive, and 
 
 so it must be beautiful.” 
 
 Must this nineteenth century, then, come to a close without ever 
 possessing an architecture of its own ? Is this epoch, so fertile in 
 discoveries, so abounding in vital force, to transmit to posterity noth- 
 ing better in art than imitations, hybrid works without character and 
 impossible to class ? This sterility can hardly be one ot the conse- 
 quences of our social state, nor can it be satisfactorily accounted for 
 by any bias of education, for no school of art could be powerful 
 enough to bring about such a result in the midst of the intellectual 
 activity and enterprise of the time. Why, then, have we not an archi- 
 tecture of the nineteenth century ? We are building everywhere and 
 a great deal ; we are lavish of our millions ; and yet, among all the 
 innumerable structures raised on every side, it is very difficult to 
 point out any distinguished for a true and really artistic application 
 of the boundless resources at our disposal. 
 
 Since the Trench Revolution Europe has been in a state of active 
 transition ; it has been ceaseless in investigating nature and history, 
 and has accumulated immense resources of material. Yet architects 
 have been unable to give body and original expression to these varied 
 elements, simply because they have wanted method. In the arts, as 
 in the sciences, without method, our investigations, our discoveries 
 and acquisitions, are in vain ; with the increase of our material and 
 intellectual wealth, we gain practically only embarrassment and con- 
 fusion ; our very abundance is a stumbling-block. The more knowl- 
 edge we acquire, the greater the strength and accuracy of judgment 
 needed to render this knowledge practically available and useful, and 
 the more necessary it is to discriminate and classify according to 
 severe principles. 
 
 But this state of transition in regard to art must, in the nature of 
 things, be temporary ; it must tend towards some definite result which 
 can only be reached when, wearied with our profitless and unsyste- 
 matic gropings among a chaos of ideas and materials, we at length 
 seek to educe from the chaotic mass certain principles of order and to 
 develop and apply them by the aid of sure and intelligent method. 
 This is the task before us, this the labor to which we must devote 
 
474 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 our energies with fixed determination, struggling against those dele- 
 terious elements of indecision and caprice which, like the miasmas 
 which arise from all matter in fermentation, are the natural results of 
 a state of transition. 
 
 The arts are sick ; notwithstanding the energy of our vital princi- 
 ples, architecture seems to he dying in the very bosom of prosperity, 
 dying of excess and the results of the debilitating regime under 
 which its growth has so long been stunted. This malady is not a 
 thing of to-day ; its seeds were sown in the sixteenth century, and 
 have been developing ever since ; they were sown when architects, 
 instead of making form the frank expression of the requirements they 
 were called on to satisfy, and of the means of construction at their dis- 
 posal, began to preoccupy themselves with the idea of adopting cer- 
 tain styles, most of which, after a very superficial study and without 
 any effort at analysis, they borrowed directly or indirectly from an- 
 cient Rome. As soon as architecture thus lost the clew of truth, it 
 went more and more hopelessly astray, till at length, lost in error, it 
 has become merely eclectic, and, observing effects alone in historical 
 architecture, without attempting to analyze them and ascertain the 
 causes which led to them, it is now pseudo-Greek, now pseudo- 
 Roman, and now pseudo- Gallic ; it borrows inspiration alike from the 
 fancies of the age of Francis I., from the pompous style of Louis 
 XIV., and from the decadence of the seventeenth century; it has 
 become so enslaved to the prevailing fashion, that even in the bosom 
 of the Academy of Fine Arts, in those most classic of all shades, we 
 have seen designs made up of the most fantastic mixture of styles, 
 fashions, epochs, and means, yet betraying not the slightest symptom 
 of originality ; because real originality is one of the infinite number 
 of forms in which truth manifests itself, and, without truth, it is ficti- 
 tious, a mere caprice. Notwithstanding the efforts lately made to 
 associate so many varieties of style, and to bring together so many 
 conflicting influences, notwithstanding the capricious eclecticism with 
 which the fancies of the moment are satisfied, the characteristic 
 which strikes us most in modern monuments is monotony. 
 
 There are two ways of expressing truth in architecture : it must 
 be true according to the programme of requirements, and true accord- 
 ing to the methods and means of construction. To be true according 
 to the programme, is to fulfil with scrupulous exactness all the condi- 
 tions imposed by necessity ; to be true according to the methods and 
 
THE UNREASONABLE IMITATION OE STYLES. 
 
 475 
 
 means of construction, is to employ materials with a clue regard for 
 their qualities and capacities. That which is generally regarded as a 
 matter of pure art, namely, symmetry, the apparent form, this is quite 
 a secondary consideration. 
 
 When the Indians built temples of stone in the form of structures 
 of logs, when the Greeks of Asia Minor, the Carians or Lycians, imi- 
 tated wooden tabernacle work in their monuments of marble, when 
 the Egyptians, in building their vast monolithic temples, borrowed 
 the form of an ordinary wall of mud plastered upon wattled reeds, 
 they evinced a respect for the primitive arts which to us is very curi- 
 ous and instructive, but which it would be absurd in us to imitate. 
 The Dorians and the Attic Greeks soon threw off these swaddling- 
 clothes of their predecessors ; and, as for the Romans, they frankly 
 built concrete monuments, which in form were the absolute expres- 
 sion of the construction, and which obtained all their beauty from this 
 expression of truth. The Romans were no children, innocently hold- 
 ing to a primitive tradition, but they were mature men who reasoned. 
 The mediaeval architects went further even than the Romans in this 
 respect ; instead of the concrete architecture, the moulded hive, they 
 desired an architecture in which every force and thrust should be ap- 
 parent and in which every constructive means should give birth to an 
 architectural form ; they adopted the principle of active resistances 
 and equilibrium ; in fact, they were inspired by the great modern 
 philosophic idea that every individual, every work, and every object 
 has a distinct part to play in the grand harmony of the universe. 
 This progressive, logical labor of humanity ought to be continued to 
 the end. Why should we abandon it ? Why should we of the 
 nineteenth century, like the Indians and Egyptians, reproduce the 
 styles of comparatively primitive civilizations with material and means 
 which, far from lending themselves readily to such childish tasks, 
 constantly suggest new forms ? What theocratic institution is it 
 which constrains us to such an abuse of common-sense, to such a 
 repudiation of the progress of former ages and the genius of modern 
 society ? 
 
 The nineteenth century, like all epochs in history which have been 
 fertile in great discoveries and morally or materially progressive, has 
 exhibited remarkable zeal in investigation. It has applied to the 
 study of the sciences, philosophy and history, a fine spirit of analysis. 
 It has elevated archaeology to something more than a mere specula- 
 
476 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 live science, and now pretends to deduce from it a practical knowl- 
 edge which may be of great benefit to the future. The axiom that 
 “ The youngest are the oldest ” never could have been so justly ap- 
 plied as to our own generation. In the study of natural phenomena 
 and philosophy, method has already produced considerable results, 
 but as yet it has never been applied to archaeology in its relations to 
 art ; materials have been accumulated to a vast extent, but have never 
 been so classified and analyzed as to lead to any practical results. 
 The attempts which have already been made to this end have been 
 misdirected and premature, because they have not proceeded upon 
 the broad basis of principle. It is therefore very essential to bring 
 to bear upon our knowledge of the styles of the past a very rigorous 
 method, and I do not see how we can adopt a better one than that 
 laid down in the four precepts of Descartes, which were regarded 
 by him as amply sufficient, if consistently and constantly observed. 
 
 “ The first,” said he, “ is never to admit the truth of anything 
 without thorough conviction ; that is, sedulously to avoid precipitation 
 or prepossession of judgment, and to accept nothing as fact which 
 (does not recommend itself so clearly and distinctly to my mind that 
 there can be no possible occasion to doubt. 
 
 “ The second is to divide the subject I am investigating into as 
 many heads as it is capable of, to the end that its difficulties may be 
 the more readily resolved. 
 
 “ The third, so to order my thoughts that, beginning with the 
 most simple and comprehensible objects, I may gradually ascend to 
 the contemplation and understanding of the most complex, assuming 
 a regular order of induction in those subjects which do not seem natu- 
 rally so to arrange themselves. 
 
 “ The last, always to make such thorough and comprehensive re- 
 views of my studies as to prevent the possibility of omitting or not 
 giving due weight to any of the considerations which bear upon 
 them.” 
 
 These precepts are admirably adapted to the consideration of the 
 subject which now occupies our attention. Let us therefore apply 
 them to the study and practice of art, so that we may at length find 
 the architecture of our time, or, as art is long, so that we may at 
 least prepare the way for those who are to follow us. In fact, if 
 we bring to bear upon the study of past styles a critical analysis suffi- 
 ciently attentive and intelligent to separate the true from the false, to 
 
METHODICAL STUDY OE TIIE STYLES. 
 
 477 
 
 educe primordial principles from among all the accidents of tradi- 
 tion, we shall not only have divested these styles of the various 
 influences which successively modified their true expression, but 
 shall have discovered what that true expression is, and how it was 
 evolved out of immutable principles ; we can then accept such forms 
 or expressions as those most nearly approaching the truth, and can 
 admit them as types. If we would arrive at an immediate and prac- 
 tical application of the facts and ideas which archaeology places at 
 our disposal, this eliminating process is necessary ; it enables us to 
 distinguish the purely speculative study from that which may be bent 
 to an actual and tangible result. 
 
 Thus, for example, I find that most of the older accessible monu- 
 ments of Asia Minor are stone imitations of wooden forms ; these 
 monuments I can study as exceedingly interesting historically, but I 
 can draw no useful practical conclusion from them. I see how a 
 race of men, transported from a wooded region to a country without 
 wood, preserved the traditions of their primitive arts. I prove the 
 existence of the traditions by the evidence before me, but I must at 
 the same time see that the traditions are contrary to the elementary 
 principles of architecture. Again, if I examine the monuments of 
 Thebes, I find there the strangest contradiction between the forms 
 and the means of construction adopted ; 1 find that men, by the ex- 
 ercise of prodigious mechanical forces, constructed in stone immense 
 imitations of mud-plastered cabins. This fact is extremely curious 
 and the result may be beautiful, but in the midst of a civilization 
 like ours I seek in vain for any practical application of it. It is only 
 when Ave tread upon the soil occupied by the forerunners of western 
 civilization that we begin to discover traces of a perfect concord of 
 form and principles, — a style in architecture. The Greeks were the 
 first who, in the art of architecture, arose superior to tradition and 
 brought to bear upon the subject a logical, rational, and inquiring 
 spirit. Between the buildings of Greece, therefore, and those of 
 India, there is all the distance which separates Plato from Buddha. 
 But it is precisely because I admire Plato, that T would avoid repeat- 
 ing in this nineteenth century the monuments contemporary with 
 him. For the Greeks, in submitting form to principles, showed us 
 the way of truth in art; and the more we are delighted at beholding 
 how the lovely fragments upon the Athenian Acropolis are the exact 
 image and expression of the civilization of Athens under Pericles, the 
 
47S 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 more we should avoid imitating the forms of these fragments, since 
 our social state and our public and private customs are essentially 
 different from those which prevailed among the contemporaries of 
 Socrates. 
 
 Thus, in studying the arts of the past, we must make an absolute 
 distinction between the form which is nothing more than the thought- 
 less mechanical imprint of a tradition, and the form which is the 
 immediate expression of a practical requirement, of a social state. 
 The latter is the only one the study of which can lead to any practi- 
 cal results ; and these results are not to be reached by any direct 
 imitation of this form, but by observing how it expresses the appli- 
 cation of a principle. 
 
 Applying the first precept of Descartes, therefore, to the study of 
 anterior arts, it is clear that I must not admit any stone imitation of 
 structures originally contrived for other materials, and must conse- 
 quently reject, as based upon a false principle, every art which, blindly 
 yielding to tradition, allowed itself to be betrayed into an untruthful 
 expression ; but it is evident, on the other hand, that I must atten- 
 tively consider how styles have been developed out of the necessities, 
 customs, and materials of nations. Under these limitations, archaeo- 
 logical studies will be of great service to the architect in familiarizing 
 him with the distinctive architectural expressions which have grown 
 out of various civilizations and different conditions of resources, in 
 enlarging his capacity for design, and rendering him apt to apply to 
 practical use, not the actual form which he sees, but the principles 
 which produced the form ; in this manner, if we bring to bear upon 
 the arts of Greece a critical and thoughtful investigation, Ave shall 
 produce an original style of architecture based truly and firmly upon 
 modern civilization. 
 
 Passing to the second precept, I should ascertain whether, among 
 the various examples which I review, there are not certain immuta- 
 ble, independent rules, equally applicable to all, and arising either 
 from social condition or from the employment of certain materials ; 
 m this manner I shall discover that harmony of proportions, for ex- 
 ample, is established on certain geometrical formulas, which I shall 
 find alike applied to styles apparently very different in character, 
 as I have already had occasion to explain ; I shall find, too, that, 
 on account of a similarity of conditions, the necessity of providing 
 against the same accidents or the desire of producing the same eflects, 
 
ANALYSIS OF TRUTHFUL EXPRESSION. 
 
 47 !) 
 
 similar mouldings have been adopted by people centuries apart and 
 having no knowledge of each other. Carrying on this train of inves- 
 tigation, proceeding always analytically, I shall presently arrive at the 
 conclusion that, man being at bottom always the same, there is such 
 an identity of character between the results of his intellectual activity, 
 when he allows himself to be guided solely by a regard for truthful- 
 ness of expression, that the same forms of art are constantly recurring 
 under his hand, although approached by very different paths. 1 shall 
 also discover that such similar results may appear very different to 
 the eye, and that this apparent paradox arises from the fact that they 
 are deduced, by the same mental processes, from different conditions. 
 Thus, I have nt my command certain building-stones of considerable 
 size and strength, monoliths, and I am required to build with them 
 a monument of comparatively small dimensions. I must not of 
 course be so unreasonable as to cut these materials into small frag- 
 ments to construct my building ; I therefore use some of them as 
 posts or columns, and others as lintels or architraves laid upon 
 them. But as these monoliths are difficult to transport, cut, and 
 raise, I confine their use to an open structure, a portico, behind which 
 I build up a close wall, a cclla for example, in the construction of 
 which I am justified in using such materials of smaller dimensions as 
 I can more readily quarry, transport to the workshops, and lay up. 
 I have formed the open structure of my portico with monoliths, 
 because thus I best fulfil the conditions of stability, I avoid thrusts 
 and the possibility of dislocations; but I have built up my wall with 
 small stones because it is more convenient to do so, and the result 
 obtained is sufficiently solid. Now my wall must be pierced with a 
 door, and must have square corners ; for the frame of this door I 
 must select three large stones, or two posts and a lintel, and on the 
 corners I must set on end long stones, or antæ, in order to keep the 
 wall of small masonry firm and strong. I thus obtain a structure, 
 in the form and fashion of which I have strictly observed the simplest 
 laws of statics, and held closely to the conditions imposed upon me 
 by the requirements of my programme and by the nature of the 
 materials at my disposal. 
 
 But let us take an example with different conditions : 1 have to 
 construct an immense building with small blocks of stone, as for 
 economical or practical reasons I cannot quarry great monoliths. It 
 is no longer a question of covering openings eighteen or twenty feet 
 
480 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 high with lintels of six or eight feet bearing, of obtaining a room 
 containing sixty or eighty superficial feet, but of bridging over open- 
 ings thirty or forty feet wide, of combining and vaulting over gal- 
 leries of various heights ; in a word, the problem is, not to build a 
 Greek temple, but a Christian church. It is clear that I must change 
 the whole system of structure, without entirely giving up the use of 
 monoliths and even of lintels, by means of which I propose to 
 strengthen and correct my walls of small masonry, as the Greeks did, 
 and thus enable them to resist the thrust of vaults and avoid the bad 
 effects of settlings. 
 
 Instead of lintels of stone and ceilings of wood I must construct 
 vaults, and I must seek such a system of vaulting as will most nearly 
 resemble the conditions of the ceiling, not in appearance, but, as 
 far as possible, in result, that is, by reducing the thrusts to a mini- 
 mum and so dividing them that they shall bear only on certain 
 chosen points of support ; I thus follow the same course of reason- 
 ing as was applied by the Greek architects ; I employ the same means 
 and start from the same principles, but arrive at results very different 
 in appearance, because l have had to satisfy a very different pro- 
 gramme. There is nothing, moreover, to prevent me from adopt- 
 ing the same system of ornamentation and the same mouldings 
 as the Greeks used, having ever in view, like them, the conditions 
 and positions of their employment. Then, as regards the manner of 
 buttressing or slaying buildings, I observe that the Greeks, in their 
 temples, used large stones on the outside and small masonry within ; 
 that they caused their angle columns to incline inwards slightly 
 towards the centre of the structure, and depressed their horizontal 
 lines in the middle, in order to refer all the thrusts towards the inte- 
 rior. But, having a much larger building to construct and the build- 
 ing materials at my disposal being much smaller and comparatively 
 feeble, although I employ the same principle as the Greeks, I find that 
 the conditions by which I am governed are such that mere depres- 
 sions of lines and slight inclinations of piers are insufficient, and that 
 it is only by a system of exterior abutting arches and buttresses that 
 I can withstand the accumulated thrusts ot the interior structure. 
 
 Thus, by bringing to bear upon my studies of ancient monuments 
 a methodical spirit, I learn that, when the condition's are different, 
 the application of identical principles must produce results different 
 in appearance; and that, in order to arrive at these different results, 
 
CLASSIFICATION OF THE STYLES. 
 
 4SI 
 
 man, his genius being one, has used the same course of reasoning and 
 in many details has fallen upon the same expression. 
 
 The third precept of Descartes treats of the necessity of a true or 
 fictitious classification, and has a direct bearing upon the character of 
 the studies by the pursuit of which we are to deduce an architecture. 
 If in speculative archaeology there is but one sort of classification — 
 the chronological — admitted, it is otherwise when this science is 
 cultivated with a practical aim. Classification must then be gov- 
 erned by the essential characteristics or natures of the examples which 
 we review, and by whatever analogous applications of the immutable 
 principles of art these examples may present. Thus, we see that 
 there are but three architectures : wooden architecture, masonic 
 architecture (perfected hy the Greeks), and concrete architecture 
 (developed by the Romans). From masonic architecture was born 
 the lintel and post, the simplest expression of statics. From concrete 
 architecture was born the vault and all its concomitants. Out of 
 these two divisions the Middle Ages created a composite in which 
 both systems were simultaneously felt ; and this composite, from 
 the very fact that it sought to conciliate two opposing or contrasting 
 principles, gave birth to a new principle, of which architectural antiq- 
 uity was totally ignorant, that of equilibrium, a principle particu- 
 larly pliant to all the exigencies of our modern social state. 
 
 The fourth precept points out the necessity of extending the area 
 of investigation as far as practicable, so that I may become familiar 
 with various precedents and profit, by acquired experience ; for to 
 concentrate my studies exclusively upon problems which have been 
 already resolved, to confine myself to investigating the characteristics 
 of an era in all its minute details, instead of accepting what is essen- 
 tial and proceeding to other fields, is a waste of time. But mere 
 accumulation of facts is a stumbling-block for the architect without a 
 methodical classification. Thus, I study alike Egyptian architecture 
 and the architecture of the Roman Empire : but, in the former, I find 
 that the forms adopted are often better suited to a structure of Avopd 
 and clay plastered than to a structure of massive masonry ; and, in 
 the latter, that the principal merit and beauty of the style consists 
 in the perfect harmony between the forms and the structure. 1 clas- 
 sify the facts and examples thus obtained accordingly, and my obser- 
 vation of them impresses me with the importance of using only those 
 forms which most directly and plainly express the structure. 
 
 31 
 
4S2 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 By thus classifying the results of extensive research in precedents, 
 I hope to obtain such a feeling for purity and truthfulness of style 
 as never to fall into that confusion of form and structure, that entire 
 absence of individuality and frankness of expression, which renders 
 so much of our modern architecture cpiite unintelligible and uninter- 
 esting. 
 
 Wearied with the unprofitable series of imitations, more or less 
 correct, of anterior styles of architecture, a certain school has lately 
 arisen in Paris, based upon the principle of composing a new archi- 
 tecture out of all the good features of these former styles ; a danger- 
 ous error, for a macaronic style cannot be a new style. It may in- 
 dicate some shallow knowledge and a certain amount of skill and 
 spirit on the part of those who use it, but it can never be the mani- 
 festation of a principle or of an idea. Even the best examples of this 
 sort of composition must remain isolated and sterile, suggesting the 
 coming of no new era in the arts. Simple principles are alone pro- 
 ductive ; and it is worthy of remark that the more simple they are, 
 the more beautiful and varied are their ultimate results. This sub- 
 ject has been referred to in the preceding Discourse in speaking of 
 the organic creation and of vertebrate animals. Certainly, the main 
 principle involved in the creation of such a reptile as the lizard is a 
 very simple one ; and yet between him and the ultimate complicated 
 result, man, what infinite variety of development, always logically 
 deduced and by transitions hardly perceptible ! What more simple 
 than to lay a stone horizontally upon two vertical posts ? Yet from 
 this simple principle what results of exquisite beauty were deduced 
 by the Greeks ! When the Romans somewhere found or somehow 
 discovered the principle of the concrete vault, it Avas certainly a 
 deduction from a very simple principle, yet what combinations at 
 length grew out of this primitive conception ! And when the west- 
 ern architects of the twelfth century added to this principle of the 
 concrete vault those of elasticity and equilibrium, what marvels of 
 structure were the result ! Did they not in less than a century 
 develop their system to the last limits of material possibility? 
 
 Here, then, are three architectures, the first two starting from two 
 distinct and different principles, and the third adding to these a new 
 principle ; and from these three were rigorously and strictly deduced 
 as many fully developed, definite, and characteristic styles, with all 
 their innumerable possibilities of individual expression. 
 
PHILOSOPHY OF THE DEVELOPMENT OF STYLES. 4S3 
 
 If we turn to the philosophic side of the question, we shall observe 
 that the Greeks, divided, as they were, into little republics, chose that 
 species of architecture which best suited their social state. Rela- 
 tively insignificant in point of population, considering themselves 
 superior to the rest of mankind, forming an exclusive and refined 
 society, passionately fond of distinction and beauty of form, they 
 naturally rejected everything which could vulgarize their architec- 
 ture. In their eyes, grandeur did not consist in dimensions, but in 
 choice of proportions and purity of execution ; for all their monu- 
 ments were small when compared with those of their Asiatic neigh- 
 bors, and especially so when placed side by side with those of impe- 
 rial Rome. 
 
 We shall observe also that the Romans, inspired by a social idea 
 entirely opposed to that of the Greeks, assimilating races, and gather- 
 ing them together under their prevailing standards, inviting or con- 
 straining them to become Romans, created an architecture well suited 
 to their cosmopolitan spirit. They seemed to build monuments for 
 the whole human race, and composed a system of construction equally 
 available at Cologne or Carthage. 
 
 If the Greeks contributed anything to Roman architecture, it was, 
 as we have repeatedly said, a covering, a dress, and not a principle. 
 But in the twelfth century there was introduced at Paris, the centre 
 of European civilization at that time, a modern element out. of the 
 degenerate traditions of the empire. It concerned itself with me- 
 chanical forces, and employed materials solely in view of their natu- 
 ral adaptabilities ; it investigated the laws of equilibrium to replace 
 the laws of inert stability, which alone were known to the Greeks 
 and Romans ; it sought to economize material and human effort ; 
 into the midst of unity of masses and orders it admitted variety of 
 detail, that is to say, individuality within the limits of style, as also 
 it admitted perfect liberty of means within the limits of unity of con- 
 ception. Before long, breaking away from tradition, it obtained its 
 ornamentation from the leaves and flowers of the field, curiously 
 studied. It made of the great religious monument an encyclopaedia 
 of knowledge, instructing the people through their eyes. In the 
 course of active observation and experiment it created in architecture, 
 what Roger Bacon attempted in the sciences, a complete revolution. 
 Every edifice was but one of the successive rounds of a ladder by 
 which architecture sought to raise itself to the extremest heights of 
 
4S4 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 an indomitable ambition ; and, mounting ever, it finally attained an 
 expression scarcely limited by the possibilities of the material ele- 
 ments at its disposal. 
 
 What would these mediaeval artists have effected if the materials 
 and means of modern times had been available to them ? And what 
 may we not effect, if, instead of tampering with all the styles, without 
 examining their principles, we simply take up the theme where they 
 left it, and develop it according to the theories which they found so 
 capable and so productive ? We cannot conceal from ourselves the 
 fact that we are to-day submitting ourselves, in architecture, to the 
 authority of the ancients, just as the schools of the thirteenth century 
 submitted themselves to the authority of Aristotle, without examina- 
 tion or knowledge. But let us hear what the monk, Roger Bacon, 
 had to say in 12G7 with respect to this blind submission to the 
 authority of a master : — 
 
 “ Hardly half a century ago, Aristotle was suspected of impiety 
 and proscribed by the schools. To-day, behold him elevated to the 
 position of sovereign lord and master ! What is his title ? He was 
 learned, some say ; this may be so, but he did not exhaust all knowl- 
 edge. He did what it was possible for a man to do in his time, but 
 
 he did not touch the limits of wisdom But, says the school, we 
 
 must respect the ancients. Yes, doubtless the ancients deserve our 
 respect, and it is proper for us to recognize our obligations to them 
 for having prepared the way for us ; but we should not lose sight of 
 the fact that these ancients were but men, and that they were not un- 
 frequently deceived ; that the greater their antiquity the greater their 
 errors, for the youngest are in reality the oldest: modern generations, 
 since they inherit all the works of the past, ought to surpass their 
 predecessors in knowledge.”* 
 
 Can we use any better language with respect to that school whose 
 aim is to teach us to forget all that the Middle Ages have taught us ? 
 This same Roger Bacon, this monk of the thirteenth century, worthy 
 associate of the artists of his time, raising his voice vehemently 
 against scholastic routine, said again in his Ojms Tertium : — - 
 
 “ I call that experimental science which neglects arguments ; for 
 the strongest arguments can prove nothing so long as their conclu- 
 sions remain unverified by experience. 
 
 “ Experimental science does not receive truth from the hands of 
 
 “ Compendium philosophise,” Cap. I. 
 
PHILOSOPHICAL METHOD IN DESIGN. 
 
 48 5 
 
 any superior sciences ; it is she who is the mistress, and they who 
 are her servants. 
 
 “ Indeed, she has the right to command all the sciences, since she 
 alone certifies and consecrates their results. 
 
 “ Experimental science is, therefore, the queen of sciences and the 
 end of all speculation.” 
 
 And further on : * “ In all our investigations we must employ the 
 Lest possible method. Now, this method is to study in their neces- 
 sary order the parts of science, to consider first the part whose place 
 is really and naturally at the beginning, the easiest before the most 
 difficult, the general before the particular, the simple before the com- 
 plex ; again, as life is short, we must select for our study the most 
 useful objects ; and, in fine, scientific investigation should be con- 
 ducted with all the clearness and certainty possible, without any 
 alloy of doubt or obscurity. But all this is impossible without 
 experience ; for we have three methods of acquiring knowledge, — 
 authority, reason, and experience : but authority has no value if it 
 is not proved ; it can make us believe, but cannot make us compre- 
 hend ; it. can impose itself upon the mind without enlightening it; 
 and as for reason, we can only distinguish sophistry from demon- 
 stration by verify my its conclusions with experience and practice .” 
 
 This is the kind of reasoning employed by the men in the Middle 
 Ages, who built monuments which we sometimes admire, but of 
 which we know so little ! Roger Bacon put into words the princi- 
 ples of the lay school of architecture, which was founded upon the 
 last traditions of Roman art. Method, examination, experience ; the 
 entire system is comprised in these three words. 
 
 Let us return to the precepts laid down by Descartes : “ Never to 
 receive anything for truth which does not clearly and distinctly rec- 
 ommend itself to the mind as such.” If this precept is applicable to 
 philosophy, it is still more applicable to architecture, which rests 
 upon material or purely mathematical laws. 
 
 Thus, it is true that a very long, wide, and high room should be 
 lighted by larger windows than those appropriate for a chamber ; the 
 contrary is lalse. It is true that a portico, composed of a colonnade 
 or arcade, is intended as a shelter from the rain, the sun, and the 
 wind ; the relations between the heights and widths of this portico 
 must be such that those who walk beneath may receive this protec- 
 
 * Cap. XIII. 
 
488 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 tion ; the contrary is false. It is true that a door -is made for exit 
 and entrance, and the size of the opening of this door should be regu- 
 lated by the greater or less number who habitually go in and out 
 thereat ; but, however dense a crowd may be, it never averages more 
 than six feet in height, or, supposing it is composed of people bear- 
 ing lances, banners, canopies, and the like, it never attains a height of 
 more than twelve or fifteen feet ; to make a door fifteen feet wide by 
 
 thirty high is therefore absurd. It is true that a column is a sup- 
 
 port, not a decoration, like an arabesque or a frieze ; if, therefore, you 
 have no work for columns to do, you should not cover your façades 
 with them. It is true that the object of a cornice is to protect the 
 walls from the rain ; to place a heavy projecting cornice in an inte- 
 rior, therefore, is unreasonable. It is true that a staircase is neces- 
 
 sary to give access to the upper parts of a building ; it is not a place 
 of repose, but of passage ; if, therefore, it is made more important 
 than the rooms to which it gives access, it may be a magnificent 
 staircase, but it is certainly a very unreasonable one. It is true that 
 the thing which bears should be proportioned to the thing borne; 
 but to build a wall or a series of piers of stones six or eight feet 
 thick, simply to carry floors which might be sustained quite as well 
 by a wall three feet thick, is to do an inexplicable thing, which satis- 
 fies neither my understanding nor my eves, and is a prodigious waste 
 of precious material. It is true that vaults ought to be stayed by 
 buttresses of some kind ; but it is a lie to use pilasters, engaged 
 columns, and other buttresses when there is no thrust to be met by 
 them. 
 
 It does not require any acquaintance with architecture to compre- 
 hend such plain reasoning as this, and by applying it to classic, me- 
 diaeval, and modern styles, we may readily arrive at their real respec- 
 tive values. We shall find that, while Greek architecture can stand 
 the test, that of the Romans often fails beneath it ; that the French 
 lay architects of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries rigidly sub- 
 mitted to these primitive principles, while we in modern times have 
 been too apt to disregard them. The first Cartesian precept, based 
 upon truthfulness of expression, thus supplies us with our first classi- 
 fication of architectural precedents. According to this, a little house 
 in Pompeii, a city-gate, a fountain, or a well may assume a far 
 greater value as a work of art than a palace. Again, the application 
 of this test, while enabling us to distinguish between the true and 
 
ANALYSIS OF ARCHITECTURAL PRECEDENTS. 
 
 487 
 
 the false, will render us familiar with the various fashions of expres- 
 sion employed by the architects of the past ; for the simple expres- 
 sion of truth in architecture is not necessarily high art ; it should be 
 expressed with skill and clearness, it should assume a beautiful or, at 
 least, a perfectly fit form. The arts may remain obscure and repul- 
 sive, even when under the strict control of reason and logic ; they 
 may absolutely be reasoned into ugliness. But if this is sometimes 
 the case, it is no less true that real beauty can only be obtained when 
 developed in accordance with laws based upon reason. Every abso- 
 lutely beautiful work must be the development of a rigorously logical 
 principle. 
 
 Having directed our primary studies of the styles by the applica- 
 tion of the first precept of Descartes, we should then pass to the 
 second, — “ to divide,” said he, “ the subject I am investigating into 
 as many heads as it is capable of, to the end that its difficulties may 
 be the more readily resolved.” This is the strict and rigid analysis 
 which belongs peculiarly to speculative study. Now a building of 
 the old time and style is a complete, finished whole ; to comprehend 
 it in all its parts, we are therefore constrained to reverse the process 
 of thought by which its author ordered and developed his concep- 
 tion. ITe proceeded from the primary idea to the apparent result, 
 from the programme and the means available to the complete accom- 
 plishment of the design ; we, on the other hand, must begin with 
 the apparent result, and thence work our way back successive! v to 
 the conception and to an understanding of the programme and the 
 means ; we must anatomically dissect the edifice, as it were, in order 
 to arrive at a full comprehension of the relations, more or less per- 
 fect, which exist between the external appearance, by which we are 
 first struck, and the means and reasons which lie hidden under this 
 appearance and which determined its character. This second division 
 of our studies is long, arduous, and difficult, but it is the best possi- 
 ble exercise for him who would learn to compose, to create. Analy- 
 sis is the path to synthesis. But the more complicated a civilization 
 has become, the more difficult it is to analyze its monuments, to elicit 
 the motives which lead to their conception, the material and moral 
 influences which governed their execution and which should contrib- 
 ute to insure their duration. If it requires but a short time and a 
 comparatively slight effort to analyze a Greek temple, it is otherwise 
 with a hall in a Roman bath, and especially so with a mediæval 
 
DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 4SS 
 
 cathedral ; and since our modern civilization is very complicated, and 
 since its monuments must have a far more delicate and complicated 
 organization, our analytical studies should not cease with the dissec- 
 tion of the simplest works of antiquity, but should proceed succes- 
 sively to the consideration of more complex works, embracing more 
 extended requirements, encumbered with more details, and embar- 
 rassed by more serious obstacles. 
 
 To restrict architectural education to a knowledge of a few frag- 
 mentary monuments of antiquity, or to imitate these monuments with 
 more or less success, is certainly not the way to arrive at an architecture 
 of the nineteenth century. It is far better to embrace in our studies 
 that long historical series of efforts which developed in succession new 
 principles, new methods, and new means, and to consider this series 
 as a chain of human progress, all of whose links are riveted according 
 to a logical order. 
 
 The third precept introduces us to application, for it consists “ in 
 so ordering our thoughts that, beginning with the most simple and 
 comprehensible objects, we may gradually ascend to the contempla- 
 tion and understanding of the most complex, assuming a regular 
 order of induction in those subjects which do not seem naturally so 
 to arrange themselves.” Indeed, if by analysis we proceed from the 
 complex to the simple, from the apparent result of the complete work 
 to the means and motives which produced that result, it is an easier 
 task, when we would design in our turn, to proceed by synthesis 
 from the primary conception to the successive development of conse- 
 quences. The primary conception or causative reasoning, which tixes 
 the character of an architectural composition, includes the programme 
 imposed and the material means available. The programme is but the 
 enunciation of the requirements ; but the means may be restricted or 
 extended according to circumstances, and must exercise a prevailing 
 influence over the design ; the same programme may be carried out by 
 very different means, according to the locality and the materials and 
 resources at our disposal. Thus, an architect is called upon to build 
 in different places certain great halls capable of containing two thou- 
 sand persons. At A, materials of an excellent quality abound, dura- 
 ble stone, marble, or granite, and there are large sums appropriated for 
 the purpose ; while at B the resources are restricted, and brick and 
 wood are alone available. Of course, these two rooms should have the 
 same superficial area, as they are both intended to accommodate the 
 
APPLICATION OP ANALYSIS TO MODERN DESIGN. 489 
 
 same number, but their appearance must vary with the resources dis- 
 posable in each case. Although satisfying the same programme, the 
 architect must adopt two very different architectural modes ; and if, 
 with his brick and pine wood, he undertakes, by means of mastics 
 and color, to imitate a structure of stone or marble, he makes a very 
 poor use of his art. To meet all the requirements of a programme 
 with a given method of construction is not to produce a work of 
 art ; to obtain this result a certain character of form, a style, is also 
 necessary ; now, although form should proceed directly from the pro- 
 gramme and from the construction, it may yet in any two cases dif- 
 fer materially ; and doubtless the form or style best suited to our 
 civilization of to-dav is that which is most flexible and most docile, 
 that which will lend itself most readily to the infinite practical details 
 of our complicated existence. But where are we to seek for models, 
 or, at least, for precedents of a style thus suited to all our modern 
 exigencies ? We shall perhaps be more apt to find it in Roman 
 than in Greek antiquity ; but if the question is concerning the use 
 of iron, for instance, we shall find our motives, not among Roman 
 precedents, but rather in the lay architecture of the Middle Ages, 
 which seems almost to have anticipated the enlarged resources fur- 
 nished by the industry, the mechanical ingenuity, and the immense 
 facility of transportation of the present day. Are there not, for in- 
 stance, very intimate relations between the great room of the palace 
 at Paris, which was burned at the beginning of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury, and the Library of Sainte-Geneviève, which was built a few 
 years ago ? And do not the classic appointments of this modern 
 room, instead of adding to its merit, rather tend to disturb its unity 
 by a mixture of foreign elements, a contrast of forms derived from 
 two conflicting principles? 
 
 Now, assuming that we have ascertained how best to satisfy the 
 practical requirements of our programme, and that our method of 
 construction is determined on, how are we to proceed from the sim- 
 ple to the complex in composition according to the third precept of 
 Descartes? First, by knowing the nature of the materials we are to 
 employ ; second, by using these materials with a strict regard for 
 their nature, attributes, and capacities, so that the form which they 
 are made to assume shall exactly express these attributes and capaci- 
 ties ; third, by admitting into this expression a principle of unity and 
 harmony, that is to say, a scale, a system of proportion, a method of 
 
490 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 decoration, appropriate and significant as regards the destination of 
 the edifice, without disregarding that variety which may be suggested 
 by the different character of the requirements we are endeavoring to 
 satisfy. 
 
 To know the nature of the materials we are to employ is not only 
 to know the strength and texture of stone, the pliability and toughness 
 of forged iron, the rigidity and brittleness of cast-iron, etc., but it is 
 to be able to anticipate the effects these materials are capable of pro- 
 ducing under certain conditions ; it is to comprehend thoroughly, for 
 example, the essential difference of expression between a monostyle 
 set up on end and a pier built up of courses of masonry ; between 
 a wall faced with broad, flat slabs of stone and a wall of solid, 
 square ashlar ; between an archivolt composed of stones whose upper 
 surfaces are concentric with the lower, and one whose stones are 
 built in with the level courses of masonry above: between a flat 
 arch and a monolithic lintel ; between an arch composed of many 
 successive ranges of voussoirs and one composed of but a single 
 range ; between the forms appropriate to a masonry laid up with 
 square, closely fitting joints, like that of the Greeks and Romans, 
 and the forms suited to a looser masonry laid up in beds of mor- 
 tar ; between an exterior door-frame or window-frame composed of 
 two monolithic jambs in a wall of plaster or concrete and one whose 
 jambs, under similar circumstances, are built up in horizontal courses, 
 the one being a good and effective architectural form, because intel- 
 ligible and reasonable, and the other offensive to the eye because 
 suggestive of weakness. A- knowledge of the capacity of materials 
 for expression includes, in fine, an appreciation of the proper rela- 
 tions between the joints of masonry and the mouldings. To em- 
 ploy materials, not only with a due regard to their strength and 
 adaptability to the duties they are to perform, but to give to them 
 the form and style which shall most exactly and elegantly express 
 this strength and adaptability, is, therefore, one of the most im- 
 portant points of composition ; it enables us to give to the simplest 
 structure a style and a particular distinction. A mere quoin or chain 
 of stone in a wall may thus become an expression of art. A column 
 or pillar, fashioned with a studied regard for the nature of the mate- 
 rial of which it is made and the duties it has to perform, satisfies the 
 most fastidious eye. A capital whose mouldings are designed with 
 an intelligent consideration for its position, surroundings, and func- 
 
UNITY AN ESSENTIAL ELEMENT OP DESIGN. 
 
 491 
 
 tion must be a beautiful object. A corbel designed to express the 
 support it gives must produce a better effect than one so formed as 
 to seem too weak for its function. 
 
 To admit a principle of unity and harmony into the expression of 
 the various requirements indicated by a programme, that is to say, a 
 scale, a system of proportions, a method of decoration, which shall be 
 appropriate and significant as regards the destination of an edifice, 
 and at the same time not to disregard the variety suggested by the 
 different nature of the requirements to be satisfied, — this is another 
 important point in architectural composition, one calling for the best 
 intelligence of the artist. When the conditions of the programme 
 have been satisfied, when the system of construction has been deter- 
 mined on, when in our design we have reasoned out such a form or 
 style for each of its parts as shall best express its function and the 
 materials of which it is made, there remains to bring the whole into 
 harmony by the application of those principles of unity which must 
 control every work of art. This is the rock upon which nearly all 
 architects have split since the sixteenth century ; they have either 
 unreasonably sacrificed convenience and disregarded the most judi- 
 cious use of material for the sake of an harmonious form, or, satisfy- 
 ing all the conditions of their work, and employing their material 
 most judiciously, they have been unable to harmonize the whole so as 
 to produce a unity of expression. But the former error is that into 
 which modern architects have been most apt to fall. The immeasur- 
 ably vaunted architecture of the close of the seventeenth century in 
 France, that which still remains the mistress of design, presents us 
 with the most exaggerated examples of this deplorable system. 
 
 In no country and at no time has fanaticism for symmetry, for the 
 absolute order, been carried so far as in the reign of Louis XIV. It 
 was the royal mania, and everybody yielded to it ; the sovereign 
 found, in a certain architect of ordinary abilities, who had usurped 
 the name of artist and who was puffed up with inordinate vanity, a 
 man ever prompt to yield to the caprices of his royal master and to 
 flatter his fancy for ostentatious uniformity, and who thus built up 
 his own fortune on the ruins of the true architecture of France.* 
 
 * In this connection it is well to cite a curions anecdote reported by Saint-Simon. It 
 affords an insight into the taste of Louis XIV. for architecture : — 
 
 “The king was very fond of his buildings, and had a feeling for exactness, proportions, and 
 symmetry, without the taste to make him a good critic, as we shall presently see. The château 
 of Trianon had hardly arisen above the foundations, when he found fault with a certain window 
 
49.3 
 
 DISCOURSES ON -ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 One of the most striking examples of this disregard for good sense, 
 and therefore of good taste, is the château of Clagny, considered a 
 masterpiece in that reign, built by Hardoin Mansard (an architect of 
 ordinary ability, to whom we shall presently refer). Certainly the 
 programme to be satisfied was a fine one, and the site agreeable; 
 but, for the sake of obtaining a symmetrical architecture, the archi- 
 tect made sad work of his opportunities. Thus, the great gallery 
 in the right wing has the same order externally as the left wing, 
 which contains only bedchambers and unimportant rooms. The 
 windows which give light to the dressing-rooms are identical in char- 
 acter with those in the main building belonging to the great state 
 apartments. The façade of the chapel repeats that of the bath, to 
 
 on the first floor then in process of construction. Louvois, -who was naturally brutal and had 
 been too much spoiled by flattery to suffer criticism even from his master, disputed the point 
 boldly and obstinately, and maintained that the window was correct. Whereupon the king 
 turned his back and proceeded elsewhere about the works. 
 
 “The next day he met Le Nôtre, a good architect, and famous for a taste in gardening which 
 he had introduced in France and which he had carried to the highest pitch of perfection. The 
 king asked him if he had visited the Trianon ; on receiving a negative reply, the king explained 
 the fault which had offended him, and told him to go and look at it. The next day came the 
 same question and the same reply ; and so with the day following ; the king saw plainly that Le 
 Nôtre did not dare to expose himself to the pain of deciding in favor of Louvois. He therefore, 
 in a pet, required Le Nôtre to meet him and Louvois at the works the next day. There was no 
 way of evading the command. 
 
 “ The following day, then, found all three at the Trianon. The question of the window was 
 raised, and Louvois disputed as before ; Le Nôtre said not a word. The king therefore ordered him 
 tto take a line and measure, and to report the result. While he was thus employed, Louvois, furious 
 at the application of this test, did not seek to conceal his displeasure, and continued to maintain 
 with feeling that this window was quite parallel with the others. The king awaited in silence, 
 but not without misgivings. When the examination was finished, he demanded of Le Nôtre 
 the result ; Le Nôtre hesitated. The king sharply commanded him to sjieak out, and Le Nôtre 
 thereupon avowed that the king was right, and the fault existed as he had stated. He had hardly 
 finished speaking, when the king, turning to Louvois, rej3roved him for his obstinacy, and said 
 that, but for his own persistence in his opinions, the thing would have been built crooked, and 
 he would have been obliged to tear it down as soon as completed. In short, he rated the archi- 
 tect soundly. 
 
 “ Louvois, incensed at this result, and mortified because the courtiers, workmen, and valets 
 had been witnesses of his disgrace, returned home in great anger. There he found Saint- 
 Pouange, Villacerf, the Chevalier de Nogent, the two brothers Tilladet, and some other intimate 
 friends, who were much concerned at seeing him in this state. ‘ The fact is,’ said he, ‘ I am 
 lost with the king ; judging by the way he has treated me about a mere window, my only safety 
 hereafter is in a war which shall distract the attention of the king from his buildings, and leave 
 
 me absolute master over them ; and, by , he shall have a war.’ In fact, he kept his word, 
 
 for, in a few months afterwards, and, despite the king and the other powers, he managed to 
 carry out his threat, and to absorb the king in a general warfare. This ruined the internal pros- 
 perity of France, and did not improve her external relations, notwithstanding the success of her 
 arms, but, on the contrary, was fruitful in national disgrace.” 
 
 Of course Saint-Simon had a bitter tongue, he hardly admired Louis XIV., and this window 
 was scarcely the primary cause of the war which was terminated with the peace of Ryswiek ; the 
 anecdote, however, at bottom, has all the elements of truth in it. 
 
UNITY, NOT UNIFORMITY. 
 
 493 
 
 which it corresponds ; and, to crown this chapter of inconsistencies, 
 the orangery is a fac-simile of the opposite range of buildings which 
 contains only servants’ rooms. Without doubt, the conditions of the 
 programme have been observed after a fashion, but with what singu- 
 lar concessions to that symmetry which constituted what was then 
 regarded as the majesty of an architectural composition ! In the 
 principal story the blunders are still more shocking, and all the do- 
 mestic comforts and necessities of the chateau are sacrificed to this 
 mania for monumental architecture. The staircases, unexpressed in 
 the general exterior mass, are small, dark, and inconvenient ; the 
 great hall of the central building absolutely interrupts all direct cir- 
 culation on the same level between the two wings ; partitions abut 
 against windows, and pilasters occur where they have no coincidence 
 with the interior arrangements. 
 
 This château is a fair type of the princely residences of that period. 
 In every instance there is nothing in the apparent architecture exter- 
 nally to indicate the interior disposition of apartments. Certainly, 
 neither the Greeks nor the Romans, whom this very school presents 
 to us as excellent artists and worthy of careful imitation, would 
 have committed such palpable errors and so misunderstood the 
 purposes of the art ; nor would the builders of the Middle Ages. 
 This may be proved by a glance at the antique villas or the French 
 châteaux up to the sixteenth century. 
 
 The aspect of unity, which since that time has prevailed in archi- 
 tectural works, has therefore only been obtained by torturing the pro- 
 grammes and disregarding truth of construction ; but, on the other 
 hand, wherever any attempt has been made to shake off this tyranny 
 ot symmetry, it has of late been too apt to result in the opposite 
 error, a sort of disregard of style, anarchy taking the place of tyr- 
 anny ; in fact, a regard for principles is equally necessary, whether 
 we propose to reform an old art or to create a new one ; they who do 
 not know how to protect themselves from a tyranny cannot govern 
 themselves. Unity, therefore, in modern architecture, is only uni- 
 formity, and,, if uniformity has been avoided, the result has been 
 apt to be disorder. Now it cannot be too often repeated, that the 
 classic as well as the mediaeval architects submitted their works to the 
 principle of unity, without ever falling into the error of uniformity. 
 Every monument, no matter how little it may differ from others as 
 regards destination or construction, should have its own traits of 
 
494 
 
 DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 individuality, and yet it should he so treated that the period of art 
 to which it belongs should be perfectly recognizable, not only in its 
 general design, but in its most unimportant details. This is the 
 result of a due regard for the principles of unity. If archaeological 
 studies did nothing else than enable us to distinguish between the 
 different styles of the past by simple observation of the philosophy of 
 their development respectively, they would render an essential service 
 to modern art, which, in the absence of such observation, is apt to 
 make an incongruous mixture of forms according to the fashion or 
 caprice of the moment, with no regard for that unity out of which 
 alone can arise a distinctive style. 
 
 “ This principle of unity and harmony in the expression of the 
 various requirements indicated by a programme” is, therefore, neither 
 symmetry nor uniformity, still less an undigested mixture of various 
 styles and forms which is unintelligible and unsatisfactory, however 
 skilfully made ; but it is, in the first place, a strict regard for scale, 
 that is, the proper relation of the various parts of a whole to a unit 
 of admeasurement. The scale adopted by the Greeks in their tem- 
 ples was not an absolute but a relative unit, known as the module, 
 although, in their dwelling-houses, it is certain that they used the 
 absolute unit, which is the size of a man. Now the result of the 
 application of the relative unit, the module or half-diameter of the 
 column, was necessarily an harmonious relation between the whole and 
 the parts.* Thus a great Greek temple was a little one magnified. 
 In the small, as in the great monument, there were the same har- 
 monic relations, — a perfectly logical result in cases like these, in 
 which the order was itself the monument. But the Romans, having 
 programmes much more extensive and complicated to fulfil, immedi- 
 ately admitted into the composition of their monuments an absolute 
 scale, that is, an invariable unit ; but, instead of taking the height of 
 a man for this invariable unit, they used an order as their point ot 
 departure. Thus, in their great structures, there was always some- 
 where a little order to serve as a scale and to give an idea of the 
 actual dimensions of the whole. Frequently, as on the exterior of 
 the baths of Dioclesian at Rome, this little order had actually no 
 other function to perform than to furnish a standard of comparison so 
 that the beholder might appreciate the grandeur of the masses. So 
 also with the niches filled with statues, so profusely spread over the 
 
 * See article Echelle in “Diet, raisonné Je l’arch. français." 
 
UNITY IN ARCHITECTURAL DESIGN. 
 
 495 
 
 interior and exterior walls of their monuments ; the object of this 
 detail was not only decorative, but exhibited a tendency of the 
 Romans towards an absolute scale, to recall the real dimensions of 
 their buildings. 
 
 With the Byzantine architects the column became the absolute 
 scale, whatever might be the size of their buildings in other respects ; 
 although differing slightly in actual dimensions, it practically served 
 as a standard of comparison to the eye. But among the mediaeval 
 architects the only scale admitted was man, every part of their struc- 
 tures being composed with reference to the height of the human 
 figure,* and hence, necessarily, the unity of the whole. With a point 
 of comparison so familiar, the real dimensions of their edifices be- 
 came particularly appreciable. 
 
 If we should adopt in our architecture this principle of the human 
 standard of admeasurement, together with such a system of geomet- 
 rical proportions as was evidently used by the architects of antiquity 
 and of the Middle Ages, we should unite two elements of composi- 
 tion which would compel us to remain true as regards the expression 
 of dimensions and to establish harmonious relations between all the 
 parts. The mediaeval architects, therefore, were in advance of the 
 Greeks, in that the latter admitted only the module and not the in- 
 variable scale. Why should we, in continuing to use the module, 
 voluntarily abandon the larger system invented by the artists of the 
 Middle Ages ? 
 
 The principle of unity in architecture is also put into operation 
 through the system of ornamentation, which, although an important 
 element of architectural composition, was never regarded, in the best 
 antique periods, in any other light than as the dress of the body, 
 after the latter had been completely formed. But the ancients ad- 
 mitted two methods of ornamentation. The one consisted in covering, 
 without disturbing the constructional form, with a sort of tapestry, 
 as it were, more or less rich ; this was the system adopted by the 
 Egyptians, whose ornamentation proper had no outline or relief 
 (statuary excepted), but, like an embroidered stuff, only enveloped 
 the geometrical form, expressing itself in incised figures and devices. 
 The other method, on the contrary, was, as it were, independent of 
 the architectural form ; according to this, decoration was attached or 
 
 * Seethe article of M. Lassus in the “Annales archéologiques,” Vol. IL, Be l'art et clc 
 V archéologie. 
 
496 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 applied to this form so as to modify the constructional outline by 
 its own projections and contours. Instead of an embroidery spread 
 over the main mass, it was composed of ornaments in relief, such as 
 leaves, flowers, and other compositions taken from the vegetable 
 and animal kingdom. The Greeks, who borrowed a great deal from 
 the Egyptians as well as from the Asiatic races, with whom architec- 
 tural decoration was rarely more than an embroidery, at first followed 
 these examples closely ; but their judgment, ever correct, soon con- 
 vinced them that this method of ornamentation, however subordinate 
 it was made to the form it decorated, had a tendency apparently to 
 alter that form, or at least destroy its character. It was not long, 
 therefore, before they introduced, in place of an incised, or flat, a 
 bolder sculptured ornamentation, like an independent accessory at- 
 tached to the form, but not interfering with the integrity of its out- 
 line. But they employed sculptured ornamentation with admirable 
 self-denial and extreme sobriety. It was limited to the decoration of 
 a few members of the cornice with beads or pearls, eggs, and closely 
 clinging water-leaves, sometimes admitting the application of metallic 
 forms and bas-reliefs strictly enclosed within rigid architectural 
 boundaries, such as friezes ; and when, at a later period, they com- 
 posed the Corinthian capital, for example, it was a basket, as it were, 
 enveloped in leaves and stems of acanthus, longwort, or fennel. This 
 system of applied ornamentation recommended itself to the ostenta- 
 tious taste of the Romans, and they soon carried it to such excess as 
 absolutely to mask the architectural form under a prodigal abundance 
 of foliage, garlands, arabesques, arms, trophies and symbols of all 
 kinds. The Byzantine artists affected a compromise between the 
 two systems, but evidently favored that which enveloped without 
 concealing the form ; in the offshoots of their architecture, however, 
 especially in that known as the Arabic, Oriental influences were pro- 
 foundly felt, and, under those influences, the ornamentation in em- 
 broidery again prevailed. But in France, at the close of the twelfth 
 century, it was abandoned in favor once more of a sculptured decora- 
 tion, exclusively taken from the local flora and affixed to the archi- 
 tectural form as if glued or nailed to it ; yet it was so managed as 
 never to contradict the form, but rather to aid in developing it, — a 
 fact easily to be seen on inspecting the capitals of the interior col- 
 umns of the cathedral of Paris. In no architecture, not even in that 
 of Greece, has applied ornamentation ever been treated with more 
 
THE STUDY OE PRECEDENTS. 
 
 497 
 
 skill and discretion than here ; far from masking or falsifying the 
 form to which it is applied, it materially assists in its expression. 
 
 To undertake to conciliate these two systems of ornamentation in 
 architectural composition, or, in other words, to decorate one part of 
 a design with embroidery and another with attached ornaments, 
 one part with sunken arabesques, and another with ornaments in re- 
 lief, is to cancel the good effects of both and to offend against the 
 principle of unity. 
 
 The last precept laid down by Descartes in his method of study is, 
 he says, “ always to make such thorough and comprehensive re- 
 views of my studies as to prevent the possibility of omitting or not 
 giving due weight to any of the considerations which bear upon 
 them.” If this precept is useful in its application to philosophical 
 investigations, it is even more essential to architectural composition. 
 The designer has by no means completed his work when he has 
 arranged his plan in the most convenient and satisfactory manner 
 and expressed its characteristics in his elevations ; all the parts must 
 be harmonized and bound together by a prevailing idea ; all the ma- 
 terials he uses must be used judiciously and with a careful regard for 
 their respective attributes ; they must have neither too much strength 
 nor too much lightness ; they must indicate their function by their 
 form ; stone must appear plainly to be stone ; iron must seem to be 
 iron, and wood, wood ; and at the same time all these materials must 
 be treated so as to combine without offending the principles of unity. 
 This was an easy task to the Romans, when they used only a con- 
 crete construction with clay, bricks, or rubble, and a revetem.ent of 
 marble ; but it is far otherwise with us, who have to employ mate- 
 rials of various or even conflicting properties, and to give to each of 
 them the form which most naturally expresses these properties. Now, 
 inasmuch as the builders of the Middle Ages seem, as 1 have already 
 said, by the comprehensive and pliable character of their works, almost 
 to have had a prescience of the larger resources of our own time, a 
 thorough review , not only of all architectural precedents, but of those 
 especially which were furnished by these active and intelligent artists, 
 is quite indispensable, if we would make a true progress and not hill 
 behind our predecessors. The works of the mediaeval school, at the 
 moment of its first development, present a cohesion so complete, a 
 mutual relation so intimate between the requirements, the means, and 
 the form or style, they supply us with so many resources ready-made 
 32 
 
498 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 by which the peculiar difficulties inherent in modern programmes 
 may be resolved, that we can nowhere else find precedents better 
 fitted to facilitate the task before us. But to try to obtain from the 
 good architecture of Greek or even of Roman antiquity anything 
 more than a few very simple principles applied with an inflexible 
 logic, to undertake to copy, imitate, or even to be inspired by the 
 actual forms which were developed from these principles, is volunta- 
 rily to expose ourselves in our works to contradictions so much the 
 more offensive as our requirements become more complicated and our 
 resources more extended. During the seventeenth century there 
 was a prevailing mania for Roman architecture, and every one was 
 willing to suffer all imaginable inconveniences for the sake of being 
 Roman. Not to incommode Roman art or to interfere with its devel- 
 opment, every one was ready to incommode himself, with the best 
 faith in the world. However unreasonable this passion, and however 
 bad its results may have been in the architecture of that period, it was 
 nevertheless a faith, and as such deserves respect. But it must be 
 confessed that we are much more sceptical as regards art than people 
 were' in the reign of Louis XIV., and there is no one in modern times 
 so infatuated with Greek or Roman art as to be willing to sacrifice 
 for its sake the least of his daily comforts or to submit to the slight- 
 est inconvenience in the cause of classicalism. Why, then, this con- 
 stant and bad copying of antique forms ? What have we to do with 
 them ? They embarrass the artists, for they have not that pliability 
 required by modern programmes ; they are very expensive ; the pub- 
 lic has no interest for or sympathy with them ; they adapt them- 
 selves but awkwardly to many of the necessities of modern times ; 
 their application and development encounter constant and irremedi- 
 able difficulties in our manners, customs, and habits of construction. 
 Why, then, this persistency in preserving them, or rather in so forcing 
 their application ? Whom do we please in thus devoting enormous 
 sums to reproduce forms so unreasonable and so out of place ? Is it 
 the public? They do not comprehend, and hardly notice them. 
 And if it is to satisfy some twenty people we know of, we pay a very 
 high price for the imaginary luxury we give them. Are we com- 
 pelled to this course by respect for art? If so, for what art? For 
 a false and denaturalized one, reduced to the condition of a lan- 
 guage which no one understands, and deprived even of the benefit of 
 the very rules out of which the precedents which we worship were 
 
THE USE OF CLASSIC PRECEDENT. 
 
 499 
 
 first developed. When an exact and faithful imitation of the Parthe- 
 non was erected at Montmartre, near Paris, it was erected, I admit, 
 out of respect for art, to preserve to the world a type of eternal beau- 
 ty, the original of which had been mutilated and destroyed ; it was 
 then a question of a museum, of a perpetuated text. Cut when Greek 
 Doric columns are engaged between the arches of a Roman arcade 
 in the second story of a railway terminus, covered with mortar or 
 plaster and smoothed down, with lintels of jointed masonry, there is 
 certainly neither reason, utility, common-sense, nor object in such an 
 inconsistency. Instead of being a mark of respect for art, is it not 
 rather an indication of disrespect or contempt P Who would engrave 
 a verse of Homer upon the walls of a warehouse ? 
 
 We shall never have a true modern architecture until we have 
 learned to be consistent, to appreciate precedents according to their 
 relative value, and everywhere “ to make such thorough and compre- 
 hensive reviews as to prevent the possibility of any omission ” ; until, 
 in fine, we shall have good and substantial reasons to set against the 
 capricious fancies of amateurs, for reason must, in the end, prevail 
 over all obstacles. 
 
 Let us, then, examine our methods and the habitual forms of our 
 architecture, let us compare them with those of antique architecture, 
 let us see if we have not lost our way and have not to retrace our 
 steps, in order, at last, to find that new style so loudly clamored for 
 by the very people who would shut us out from the only means of 
 reaching the desired end. 
 
 I will not in this connection consider Greek architecture, — al- 
 though it is the custom to steal Greek motives and apply them indis- 
 criminately to modern structures, which have no relations with those 
 of Greece, — but will proceed at once to look into the architecture of 
 Rome under the emperors, which, in fact, is the only one which has 
 seriously influenced the design of our monuments since the seven- 
 teenth century, and the only one which, in certain particular cases, 
 can offer us practical examples. When I analyze a Roman monu- 
 ment, like the Coliseum, the baths, palaces, theatres, I am at first 
 struck by the powerful rational structure combined by men of thor- 
 ough experience. This construction consists of masses of rubble or 
 brick embedded in strong mortar, the whole forming an absolutely 
 homogeneous concretion, with a facing and sometimes with a base, 
 as at the Coliseum, of regular stone masonry. But although mortar 
 
500 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 is the all-important and binding element with the shards, rubble, or 
 brick of the Roman wall, there is not a particle of lime in the joints 
 of the masonry ‘ which covers it. Roman structure, therefore, com- 
 bines two distinct processes : the one derived from concretions of 
 rubble or brick with cement, like excavations out of solid limestone ; 
 the other, derived from Etruscan or Greek masonry, which envelops 
 or faces this cellular body. However inartistic the Romans were, 
 they never confounded these two systems ; they married them to- 
 gether, but they never lost sight of their respective characteristics. 
 The Coliseum is but a concretion of cells, made solid with cement, 
 sustained and enveloped with a masonry of cut stones laid without 
 mortar; but this masonry takes forms suited for stone construction, 
 while the concrete masses only affect forms proper to a moulded 
 material. This mixed system, however, is not always admitted. 
 Often, as in the baths of Diocletian and of Antoninus Caracalla, or in 
 the basilica of Constantine at Rome, the entire mass is in concrete, 
 clothed only with an envelope of brick, a single block, as it were, 
 variously hollowed, and finally coated (without regard to the construc- 
 tion) with slabs of marble, encaustic tiles, and mosaics. If, in any 
 instances, stone actually participated in the essential construction, it 
 was used in the form of monolithic columns of granite or marble, or 
 of entablatures deeply embedded under the springing of the vaults, 
 thus seeming to give solidity to the whole structure, and having 
 actually the effect of correcting and stiffening the brute and passive 
 masses of concrete. But if the Romans gave to a rubble pier in one 
 of their great vaulted rooms a section of twenty-four superficial feet, 
 even when it was stiffened and buttressed by an engaged granite col- 
 umn, they were not so foolish as to give the same section to this pier 
 when it was built of regular masonry, nor did they add to this stone 
 pier any unnecessary stiffening of a monolithic column, since, formed 
 as it was of regular courses laid up with dry joints, there was no 
 danger of any settling. Although having at their command all the 
 financial resources of the known world, they never, in respect to con- 
 struction, indulged in any useless expense, but exercised a wise 
 economy of material, and did honor to that which they employed. It 
 they built a basilica, to be covered with a timber roof, they raised 
 monolithic columns of granite on marble bases, and laid upon these 
 columns capitals and lintels of marble ; they did not waste their time 
 and money by laying a solid wall of masonry upon this open col- 
 
REVIEW OF THE QUALITIES OF ROMAN ART. 
 
 501 
 
 onnade, hut, forming discharging arches of brick over the lintels, so 
 as to concentrate the superincumbent weights over the columns, they 
 built tlieir wall above of concrete or brick, content with covering 
 its inner and outer surfaces with a facing of thin marble or stucco. 
 If neither marble nor stone were available, they either constructed 
 their basilica without side aisles, substituting close walls for open 
 walls on either side of the nave, thus avoiding the necessity of having 
 columns, or, retaining the aisles, they built the side walls on arcades 
 of brick or rubble in cement. 
 
 In fact, we must see that the principal value of Roman architecture 
 consists in its judicious employment of materials ; power and sagacity 
 are its prevailing expressions, and if it is imposing in its ruins, it is 
 not only on account of its own inherent qualities, but by reason of the 
 evidence it exhibits of the grandeur of those who gave it existence. 
 
 Because the art of the sixteenth century developed some charming 
 fancies, we should not for this reason accept it, as we do, for a model; 
 the architecture of Louis XIV. is not wanting in majesty or gran- 
 deur, but it is not by imitating it and reproducing its characteristic 
 expressions that we can compose a style appropriate for the nine- 
 teenth century. To obtain a real and desirable novelty, Ave must 
 seek for and adopt with peculiar care the true principles of art, Ave 
 must classify the works of the past with such rigorous scrutiny as to 
 render them available to our use according to their relative value; to 
 this end Ave must study and revieAv them Avithout prejudgment for or 
 against ; aa t 6 must, once for all, dismiss the prejudices of the school 
 which is ruining our art and which maintains its predominance only 
 by exacting a blind submission to dogmas which it does not even 
 condescend to explain. I am confident that in time Ave can over- 
 throw the obstacles which impede the progress of knoAvledge and 
 stand in the Avay of a judicious and impartial analysis of the past. 
 For these thirty years Iioav many young artists have Ave seen los- 
 ing precious years of study in aimless and resultless effort ; and if 
 some feAv spirits, more supple, more happy, or more favored, have 
 reached high positions, what have they produced ? Affected imita- 
 tions or confused mixtures of reminiscences, betraying, under a pro- 
 fusion of details, poverty of invention, absence of ideas, and an entire 
 disregard for any analytical investigation of precedent. The sum 
 total of the whole, so far as the public is concerned, consists in 
 incommodious buildings in which the practical requirements which 
 
502 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 called them into existence are neither studied nor fulfilled ; which do 
 not appeal to the sympathies of the multitude nor educate their taste ; 
 which entail enormous expenses, and create sometimes astonishment, 
 hut never a genuine admiration. 
 
 We have our faults, buUwe also possess a spirit of reason, sound 
 common-sense, and are passionately fond of variety. But our quasi- 
 official architecture is absolutely unreasonable ; it does not endeavor 
 practically to meet the plain necessities in each case, but is governed 
 by that spirit of uniformity which is supposed to be one of the ele- 
 ments of the beautiful. It would seem that, in architecture, the 
 grave Minerva had given place to the goddess of ennui, and that, to 
 be truly classic, we must sacrifice to that wan divinity. The façades 
 of our monuments, symmetrical in spite of the varied accommoda- 
 tions they are expected to give, reproduce a hundred times the same 
 column with the same capital, the same window with the same dec- 
 orations, the same arcade, the same frieze extending along weary 
 lengths of monotony. 
 
 I admit that the architect has an advantage in this, and that 
 fools admire this persistent and imposing repetition of a fashion ; but 
 we cannot disguise the fact that the public — the great, active, and 
 intelligent public which throngs our streets — is fatigued at these 
 unexpressive roods of architectural repetition, and sighs after some 
 accident or incident to break what seems an unmeaning succession 
 of exaggerated classical perfections. Now it is worthy of note that 
 nothing could be more picturesque or more abounding in agreeable 
 surprises than the assemblage of principal buildings in an ancient city 
 of the Greeks or even of the Romans ; and that, during the Middle 
 Ages and the Renaissance in Western Europe, a desire for variety 
 and individuality of expression was manifested at every turn. It is 
 owing; to the reign of Louis XIV. that these traditions have since 
 then, under pretext of majesty, given place to the weary monotony 
 of modern architecture. But if majesty was a desirable thing to ex- 
 press in the reign of the great monarch, it has nothing in common 
 with the manners and tastes of the nineteenth century. We no 
 longer wear the colossal peruke nor put the lace of Alençon on our 
 cuffs. We have habits of comfort, a public and private hygiene 
 which do not accord with that pomp, that unreasonable ostentation, 
 that style made up indiscriminately from precedent, which is set forth 
 in the palaces and public buildings of modern times. 
 
MODERN ABUSE OE SYMMETRY AND REPETITION. 503 
 
 If we would really have an architecture of the nineteenth century, 
 we must, as a primary consideration, have a care that it is indeed our 
 own, taking its form and characteristics, not from precedent, but from 
 ourselves. We should get a thorough knowledge of the formation of 
 anterior styles, but this knowledge should be accompanied by a spirit 
 of intelligent discrimination and criticism. We should not use our 
 knowledge like pedants, but like persons who, having ideas of their 
 own, are choice in the language with which they would express them. 
 We should above all endeavor to forget those conventionalities and 
 commonplaces, which, with a persistency worthy of a more noble ob- 
 ject, have been reiterated for the last two hundred years as if they 
 were the only utterance of architecture. 
 
 The art we seek should be under the control of an harmonic 
 system, a pervading spirit of unity, but sufficiently elastic to be a 
 faithful monumental record of the modifications and results of pro- 
 gress as they take their places in history ; it should be untrammelled 
 by such purely conventional formulas as are applied to the orders, 
 for example, or as are derived from what are called the laws of sym- 
 metry. 
 
 Symmetry is no more a general law of architecture than equality 
 is a law of society. We admit the equality of all before the law, but 
 equality is not the law, for we cannot recognize an equality of in- 
 tellect, talent, physical force, or wealth among all the members of 
 society. In fact, symmetry, accepted as a general, dominating law 
 in art, is a sort of communism, which enervates art and debases those 
 who practise it. 
 
 It is considered a mark of respect for art to require an architect to 
 make a block of buildings after one pattern, and to pierce his facade 
 with the same kind of windows, without regard to the various charac- 
 ters of the rooms within to which they belong ; but, in so doing, in- 
 stead of proving yourself a lover of art, you are really its executioner ; 
 you stifle its most noble quality, which is its perfect freedom. There 
 can be no art without freedom ; for art is the expression of ideas, 
 and what kind of ideas do you express when you are constrained to 
 say nothing but what your neighbor says, or to call that white which 
 you see is black ? 
 
 Municipal regulations, forbidding the erection of buildings above 
 a certain height or fixing the amount of projection allowed beyond 
 the street line, are reasonable and proper ; but if these regulations 
 
504 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 should require twenty different architects to adopt in twenty different 
 buildings the same cornice-profile, the same style of window, or the 
 same heights of string-courses, under pretence of symmetry, when the 
 interior of each of these houses has its own individual characteristics 
 in its arrangement of rooms, they certainly would not be justifiable. 
 But if municipal authority should ever be stretched to such a deplor- 
 able point as this, the architects would have nobody to blame for it but 
 themselves, in having set the example by practising under doctrines 
 which recognize such absurdities, and by reducing architecture to the 
 condition of a vulgar formula which any one can employ mechanically 
 and without effort of reason. 
 
 Although, however, we cannot find in symmetry the qualities which 
 constitute a law, there are certain cases in which it is satisfactory, and 
 this is the most that can be said about it ; but, on the other hand, 
 harmony and balance of parts or pondération are laws which should 
 be understood and applied in architecture. 
 
 Some of the harmonic laws of proportions have been already ex- 
 plained ; and the most beautiful buildings of antiquity, or of the 
 Middle Ages, illustrate those of balance ; but balance is not symmetry, 
 as it admits of variety. We do not put similar things in opposite 
 sides of the scale, precisely because they are similar. A statement 
 of requirements to be fulfilled in a building, if interpreted strictly 
 with regard to convenience, usually results in an irregular plan, and 
 it is the duty of the artist to see that this irregular plan presents 
 well-balanced elevations ; or, in other words, that it does not appear 
 “ one-sided,” lame, or incomplete. 
 
 Let us suppose, for example, that we have to build a small town 
 hall, including on the ground-floor a few offices, and in the principal 
 story a great room, the whole surmounted by a belfry. It is evident 
 that if I place the belfry-tower in the axis of the façade for the sake 
 of symmetry, I must either cut the great room in halves or have 
 recourse to some complicated, expensive, and dishonest construction, 
 — for dishonesty in architecture is apt to be expensive. I propose to 
 be more frank. I place the tower at one of the extremities of the 
 building, using its lower story as a vestibule, as represented in the 
 plan (Fig. 107) ; within, at A, I build the staircase ; at B, I arrange 
 the offices and cabinet of the mayor, etc. On the principal floor 
 above I avail myself of the tower chamber above the porch as a wait- 
 ing-room, and find the rest of the story readily adapted for a large, 
 
BALANCE OF PARTS. 
 
 505 
 
 well-lighted hall. In the roof I place the store-rooms and archives. 
 Having settled thus upon the most convenient disposition for my 
 plan, I proceed, in the elevation C, to give due value and expression 
 to. my tower, which must he a massive, solid structure, flanking one 
 of the extremities of the building and rising above it. Then I must 
 
 Pig. 107. 
 
 proceed to provide for the ample lighting of my hall by windows, 
 and so to treat the angles D of the façade opposite the tower that 
 they shall present features of weight and solidity to oppose the thrusts 
 of the large discharging arches which I find it necessary to throw over 
 
50G 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 these principal windows ; I therefore, on each angle of the gable-end, 
 erect a corner turret, to serve as a buttress or vertical weight. In 
 thus treating this gable-end I balance the façade, although it is by no 
 means symmetrical. The eye instinctively perceives that the angle 
 on the left occupied by the tower is not only higher than the rest, but 
 especially solid and massive; that the part pierced by the large win- 
 dows has no unnecessary weight to carry ; and that this façade is ter- 
 minated at its other extremity by a weight acting vertically. This is 
 not symmetry, but balance, — an end the more perfectly obtained if we 
 can manage that the length a b of the whole façade shall be to the 
 height et c of the tower wall as the length eb of the façade without 
 the tower is to the height d b of the masonry of the corner turrets. 
 
 Again : I have a square building to erect ; it is composed of four 
 ranges or wings around a square court in the centre ; the ground to be 
 
 Fig. 108. 
 
 occupied by the structure is sloping, the angle A (Tig. 1 OS) of the 
 plan being much lower than the other three angles B, B, B. It is 
 necessary to construct somewhere in the building an extra story, form- 
 ing a sort of belvidere or tower; this must be placed, not in the 
 middle of one of the façades, but on the angle A (see perspective ele- 
 vation), where the ground falls away most, because the eye requires 
 that the extra story shall be placed where the character of the site 
 renders the greatest solidity and strength necessary. Thus the struc- 
 ture is balanced, which, under the specified conditions, would not be 
 the case with any other disposition of the tower. - 
 
 If we look at the paintings or ruins of those groups of domestic 
 
BALANCE OE PARTS. 
 
 507 
 
 buildings known as the villas of antiquity, we shall be struck by the 
 delicacy of observation exhibited by their architects with respect to 
 the balance of masses. And the same quality is especially remark- 
 able in the castles, abbeys, hospitals, and even town houses of medi- 
 æval times. These buildings are attached solidly to the ground, and 
 by the composition of their masses attract the eye and gratify the 
 mind. The house of Jaques Cœur at Bourges, that of Cluny at 
 Paris, and, in fact, all the old feudal castles including some much 
 more recent, such as Blois, Chenonceaux, Ecouen, Azay-le-Rideau, are 
 excellent examples of the application of this principle. They owe 
 their peculiar charms, not to any symmetrical arrangements of their 
 parts, but to the balance of these parts. To obtain this effect of bal- 
 ance is, I admit, much more difficult than to continue the lines and 
 indefinitely to repeat the features of a building for the sake of obtain- 
 ing an effect of uniformity ; but it is art, and it can never be proved 
 of art, that to be simple and easy is to be beautiful. 
 
 Fig. 109. 
 
 But the architects of antiquity and of the Middle Ages extended 
 the application of the laws of balance to the composition of details. 
 Two examples will suffice to exhibit the fine intelligence they dis- 
 played in this respect. Fig. 109 exhibits the usual arrangement of 
 mouldings at the lower angle of a Greek pediment. The level corona 
 or larmier A, crowned by a fillet, is repeated at B, where it slopes 
 above the tympanum, and the whole is surmounted by a cymatium C, 
 which returns around the lower angle to form the upper member of 
 the level entablature along the sides of the building. Whatever re- 
 spect we may profess for Greek architecture, it must be confessed that 
 there is a grave error in the manner in which the sloping and level 
 members meet at the lower angle of the pediment, the necessary dis- 
 
DISCOURSES OX ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 508 
 
 position of masonry, suggested at the joint a, to stop the apparent 
 tendency of the moulding C to slip down the slope of the pediment, 
 being in contradiction to the arrangement of architectural lines at 
 that point. The delicate sentiment of the Greek artists must have 
 been offended at this meagreness and weakness of effect, for, in order 
 to counteract it as far as possible, and to reassure the eye, they often 
 placed upon the lower extremity of the cymatium a little acroterium 
 b, crowned by an ornament or figure, in order to give an appearance 
 of weight or resistance. But the architects of the thirteenth century 
 remedied this difficulty more frankly and more honestly by such com- 
 
 Fig. no. 
 
 binations as not only marked emphatically the return of the mould- 
 ings around the corner, but gave and expressed the necessary strength 
 and weight required at this point, as may be seen on reference to 
 Fig. 110. This is a perfectly reasonable method of giving an ap- 
 pearance of solidity to the foot of the gable ; we can imagine 
 that the other angle is strengthened by a tower or staircase turret, 
 but even then the eye would not be less content with the neatness 
 and ease with which the sloping gable is stopped by the Gothic 
 acroterium. 
 
 In fact, balance may be defined as the art of giving an effect of 
 
SINCERITY AND TRUTH OF EXPRESSION. 
 
 509 
 
 completeness without the aid of symmetry ; but when the archi- 
 tect’s resources are such as to afford him no other means of ob- 
 taining this effect but symmetry, his art becomes like one of those 
 trades whose perfection consists in marvellous exactness of repeti- 
 tion. If, therefore, the laws of symmetry, being mechanical, are not, 
 properly speaking, applicable to the art of architecture, we have seen, 
 on the other hand, that the best architects of antiquity and of the 
 Middle Ages respected and obeyed the laws of balance. These laws 
 of balance, like those of proportion, are nothing more than the appar- 
 ent expression of the laws of statics. 
 
 Geometry and calculation, then, are the fundamental bases of the 
 art; by building upon such bases, we can escape the pitiable vulgarity 
 of mere classicism, and, indeed, if our civil engineers, who are accus- 
 tomed to nice calculations and who are excellent geometers, concerned 
 themselves less with unreasonably reproducing in their works classic 
 forms, and contented themselves with the simplest, most economical, 
 and most unaffected manifestation of their construction, there is no 
 doubt that they would produce some remarkable results, as seen from 
 a purely artistic point of view ; for a faithful observance of the laws 
 of statics, developed by calculation and geometry, must lead to sin- 
 cerity and truth of expression, and whenever these qualities control 
 a work of art, it instinctively charms both the cultivated and the 
 uncultivated mind. Although the public taste has been led astray 
 by the universal habit of insincerity or falsehood in architectural 
 works, it is nevertheless invariably attracted by a true work, which 
 appears what it really is. Everything which explains itself must 
 have such qualities of fitness as to recommend it to the approbation 
 of the beholder. By using such forms as shall most naturally and 
 inartificially express the qualities and capacities of the materials we 
 employ, by using cast-iron forms for cast-iron and wrought-iron forms 
 for wrought-iron, by having appropriate distinctions of treatment for 
 a form of granite, of sandstone, of marble, of brick, and of wood, we 
 shall not only open a vast and inexhaustible field for variety and 
 novelty of design, but must at last succeed in attracting the sympathy 
 and appreciation of the public for an art which, by its false and 
 arbitrary standards of criticism, has so long been alienated from 
 them. If the people have been misled in matters of taste, is it not 
 plainly the privilege and duty of the artist to enlighten them, and is 
 it not the extreme of stupid folly to go on multiplying known and 
 
510 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 acknowledged errors ? The first rule which, men of good breeding 
 impose upon themselves is not to lie ; how then is it with artists, 
 who every day accumulate lie upon lie in their works P The word is 
 coarse, indeed, but the crime which it stigmatizes is deserving of it. 
 
 { The modern architecture, which is called classic, is a lie, while one 
 of the most lovely qualities of that architecture, whose traditions it 
 claims to perpetuate, is honesty, both with regard to the material and 
 the manner in which the material was employed. It is true, if we 
 have immense resources at our disposal, we can, by the exercise of 
 great care, so use this pompous style as to avoid actual deceit ; but, 
 when our means are limited, to what falsehoods is the architect driven 
 in order to obtain that pompous effect which is alone recognized as 
 classic ! What columns and cornices of plaster ! What beams of 
 wood imitating lintels of stone ! What ceilings, painted and formed 
 to appear like the work of the carpenter and the cabinet-maker ! 
 What imitations of marble in stucco, of sculpture in moulded paste, 
 of vaults of stone in vaults of lath and plaster ! In all this architec- 
 ture the great and only aim is to deceive, to appear what it is not. 
 
 But, without descending so low as this, although in practice we 
 make the descent far too often, Ave have only to glance at some of our 
 most important and most costly modern structures to see that the 
 masonry is rarely in accord with the architectural detail, and that the 
 courses of stone do not coincide with the horizontal lines of architec- 
 ture; * so that, after a few years, when each stone has become defined 
 by some difference of tint, the disaccord between the joints of con- 
 struction and the style of architecture becomes painfully apparent; 
 Ave see the joints of flat arches betraying the false lintel; Ave see 
 arch-stones not confined to the arch mouldings, but passing beyond 
 them and making their Avay into the tympana and spandrels above ; 
 Ave see the sculpture of bas-reliefs cut this way and that by joints of 
 masonry ; Ave see copies of the great open bays and arches of the 
 Romans entirely losing their effect by being closed in Avith glazed 
 sashes ; Ave see staircases passing across Avindows, and stories, Avliich 
 on the exterior appear single, cut in two in the interior by floors; 
 Ave see roofs concealed behind aoroteria ; iron floors, covered on their 
 under surfaces Avith plaster to give the effect of Avooden ceilings ; 
 
 * The modern habit in Paris is to lay up the stone “ in the rough,” and afterwards to cut and 
 trim it into architectural fonns, often without regard to the proper coincidence between the 
 joints of the masonry and the finished detail. — Translator. 
 
MODERN INSINCERITY AND INCONGRUITY. 
 
 511 
 
 enormous rooms from thirty to sixty feet high lighted by several 
 ranges of windows so as on the exterior to have the effect of being 
 divided into several stories ; we see wood painted in imitation of 
 stone or marble, and stone to appear like wood ; in the interior we 
 see as many false doors as true, so that the stranger is puzzled to 
 know which to open, and enormous chimneys to accommodate the 
 smallest fires. What other name than lies can we give to such 
 things ? 
 
 If we wish seriously to discover an architecture, the first condition 
 to observe is to avoid deceit, not only in respect to the general design, 
 but in the least details of the edifice we are to construct. In fact, 
 to such a condition has the present practice of architecture reduced 
 us, that any architect who should be enabled to design and carry 
 out a work with absolute sincerity would produce a very novel and 
 probably a very interesting building; more than this, he would be 
 really classic in the sense of submitting himself to the same invariable 
 laws of art as controlled the development of the best styles of antiq- 
 uity. Having at our disposal new materials, machinery until now 
 unknown, enlarged resources, requirements much more complicated 
 than those with which the ancients had to deal in their architecture, 
 having an extensive knowledge of precedent in its development under 
 various civilizations, — if to all this we should add sincerity, in 
 fulfilling to the letter the requirements we are to satisfy, and in using 
 our materials honestly and wisely; if we should avail ourselves also 
 of the discoveries of science and pay especial heed to the suggestions 
 of common-sense, trying above all to forget false doctrines and to lay 
 aside all prejudice and caprice, — we might then hope at least to lay 
 the foundations of a true architecture of the nineteenth century, al- 
 though perhaps we must leave to our successors the task of develop- 
 ing it to completion. 
 
 But in addition to the laws already indicated as applicable to archi- 
 tectural composition, there is yet another no less important, which 
 in modern practice is almost entirely neglected ; it touches pure art, 
 and may be distinguished as the law of conrjruity. Thus, to give to 
 a dwelling raised upon shop-fronts, which entirely destroy the effect 
 of a basement, the façade of a palace ; to decorate it with Corinthian 
 pilasters which have no better resting-place than glass sashes, behind 
 which are displayed dry-goods or hats and caps, is an evident offence 
 against this law. To build in the same city and at the same moment 
 
512 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 a church in the Gothic manner, a second after the Renaissance, a 
 third in a pseudo-Byzantine style, is also, as far as art is concerned, 
 an indication of a general disregard for congruity, or fitness ; for, 
 apart from considerations of the difference between religious sects and 
 forms of worship, it would be difficult to explain how, in a healthy 
 state of architectural art, the same sect can be accommodated equally 
 well in churches entirely dissimilar in motive, style, and treatment. 
 The question then is, which is the more Catholic or which the more 
 Protestant, a Byzantine church, a Renaissance church, or a neo-Gothic 
 church, and why should one be more Catholic or Protestant than the 
 others ? To make the classic façade of a municipal office simulate 
 that of an ancient Gothic church built en pendant ; to make a little 
 theatre, next a great parish church, appear like a detached fragment 
 of the church ; to crown a court-house with a cupola like that of a 
 mosque, — all these things, which have lately been done in the capi- 
 tal of Trance, indicate a prevailing disregard, or, at least, an igno- 
 rance of that law of congruity which must be strictly observed 
 wherever there is true art. 
 
 The same law extends, in its application, to all the details of a 
 building, and its observance is seen in the proper subordination of 
 parts. Thus, if all the means necessary to indicate richness are 
 exhausted upon an accessory of a great palace, subordination of parts 
 is disregarded, and the principal mass of the structure must suffer in 
 proportion ; if all the resources of art and material are lavished upon 
 the staircase, the apartments to which the staircase is an approach 
 must appear incongruous. In like manner we offend against the 
 laws of congruity when we establish along the fronts of our city or 
 country houses great porticos not intended for public use, and exclud- 
 ing needful light from the rooms which open upon them ; also, when, 
 behind elaborate façades of stone, sculptured at great cost, we cover 
 the interior Avith wall-papers representing sculpture in wood, marble, 
 or bronze, and when the interior decoration affects a style not in 
 accordance with that observed in the exterior. 
 
 The architect, in decorating, should never lose sight of these prin- 
 ciples of gradation and subordination. HoAvever ample the means 
 placed in his hands, he should never lavish all the richness ot design 
 at his command upon the vestibule or the facade ; the great value of 
 richness of design being not in itself, but in its fitness for its place, 
 not only in contrast with other places, but in its subordination to the 
 
MODERN MISUSE OE DECORATION. 
 
 513 
 
 main architectural lines or surfaces which it decorates. It is notice- 
 able that, after their first astonishment at the decorations of our pala- 
 tial interiors, the public soon weary and lose their interest in them, 
 because these decorations present a mass of ornaments, gilding, and 
 painting, concealing almost always a poor composition or a common- 
 place idea, carelessly studied proportions, or incongruous masses. 
 They are a mere varnish laid upon a vulgar object, an embroidery 
 bedizening an ungraceful shape. Clothe a deformed man as you N 
 will, you can never give him a noble bearing. It is the same in 
 architecture. When, by means of carving and gilding, you endeavor 
 to distract attention from a troublesome assemblage of lines, a disa- 
 greeable proportion, a vulgar form, you effect no higher object than 
 the momentary amusement of the multitude. Such decoration leaves 
 upon the mind but a confused impression, and often causes such a 
 thorough dislike for splendor so ill used, that a simple square cham- 
 ber with smooth whitewashed Avails would be a grateful relief. In 
 fact, nothing leads to satiety in the arts more readily than an over- 
 loaded or abused ornamentation, especially when it is not applied to 
 a form in itself beautiful. Art cannot approach absolute sterility 
 more nearly than by such an abuse of its instruments. It is onlv 
 lines combined with skill and feeling, only forms easy to understand, 
 only broad and massive treatment, which can produce a profound im- 
 pression and elevate an idea to the dignity of a work of art. In this 
 respect the ancients are our masters. So long as Ave disregard these 
 principles, Ave have no right to boast of being their pupils ; and so 
 long as Ave continue to borrow from the age of Louis XIV. some of 
 its tinsel, without reproducing that feeling for form of Avhich some 
 traces still lingered even in that era, Ave have no right to cover up our 
 short-comings under the cloak of what Ave 'call respectable traditions ; 
 the public, weary of the gilded rags which cover such wretched 
 bodies, weary of an art which has neither distinction nor choice, Avili 
 soon demand a return even to those pale cold copies of antiquity so 
 much in vogue at the beginning of the century, but Avhich at least 
 had the courage to expose their own nakedness and sterility, and did 
 not conceal their emptiness of conception under a fictitious splendor 
 stolen from a feAV old houses of the faubourg St. Germain. 
 
 This Discourse, then, is intended to embrace the conditions under 
 Avhich the true architect is developed ; these conditions include, as Ave 
 have seen, method in the study of architectural precedents, and the 
 33 
 
514 
 
 DISCOURSES ON ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 submission of the results of this study to the chastisement of reason ; 
 they include certain laws for the government of the architect in de- 
 sign, — laws which are either purely mathematical or purely æsthetical. 
 The first are the corollaries of statics, and belong exclusively to con- 
 struction ; the last relate to proportion, the observation of effects, dec- 
 oration, and certain proprieties of expression to be observed in respect 
 to the requirements we are called upon to satisfy and the means by 
 which we are to satisfy them. 
 
 Archaeological studies have demonstrated that every epoch of art 
 had its peculiar style, that is to say, a harmony, a unity in the con- 
 ception of the whole and in the execution of the parts. There has 
 never been, and there can never be, an art outside of these fundamental 
 conditions. It remains for us either to adopt one of these known 
 styles or to form a new one. If we would form out of these various 
 styles an amalgam, the archaeologists will analyze our mixture and 
 will demonstrate to us in the most logical way that- it is composed 
 of contradictory elements cancelling and embarrassing one another. 
 That which we call eclecticism in art, the appropriation of various and 
 contradictory elements to the composition of a new art, is, after all, 
 mere barbarism. The experiment was tried in the epoch between 
 the fall of the arts of antiquity and the advent of the lay school of 
 architects of the twelfth century. When the Romanesque architects 
 of the eleventh century took their plan from the Romans, their details 
 from the East, their cupola from the Byzantines, their timber work 
 from the races of the North, and used with all this the debris of the 
 old monuments of the empire, there was no one with authority to 
 mark and to explain on philosophical principles the conflicting char- 
 acter of the elements thus combined. But we are too learned now 
 to repeat the experiment with any prospects ol success ; we can no 
 longer make such mixtures of styles with that simplicity, innocence, 
 or good faith, which at that time could apply, as it were, an harmo- 
 nious varnish over the most heterogeneous combinations ; indeed, 
 ignorance alone is capable of giving body and wholeness to such a 
 confusion of elements. But now that science is competent to classify 
 these elements, the power of so mixing them as to obtain any concrete 
 result is taken away from us. Inasmuch as we are aware that at 
 the bottom of all these various styles there are two or three principles 
 with a very limited number of ideas derived from each, to undertake 
 to conciliate these principles in the same expression of art, or to over-' 
 
TRUE USE OF ARCHAEOLOGY. 
 
 515 
 
 look the fact that the ideas we perceive in antique art were derived 
 from these principles, is to go back into barbarism with our eyes 
 wide open. 
 
 It would be folly to undertake to oppose archæological studies, for 
 they are probably destined to serve as the solid basis of modern art ; 
 yet, inasmuch as archaeology seems lately to have influenced rather 
 the material than the intellectual side of art, we should take care 
 that they are not so misdirected as to become dangerous. If we 
 would obtain substantial profit from the study of the past, we should 
 not occupy ourselves with such trivial questions as whether the met- 
 opes of a certain temple were colored blue or red, whether the grilles 
 of bronze were engraved with silver, whether the eyes of such a 
 statue were inerusted with enamel or with precious stones ; Ave should 
 rather study to comprehend the reasons Avhy such a method of dec- 
 oration Avas adopted, and to obtain a broad and clear idea of those 
 civilizations which manifest themselves to us in the few expressions 
 of art which Ave are seeking to decipher. The infinite and puerile 
 details to which the study of antiquity and of the Middle Ages is 
 noAv chiefly directed cause us too often to lose sight of the principal 
 advantage to be derived from such study, namely, the inferences 
 of humanity, its efforts and tendencies, and the means Avhich men 
 have employed at various eras of the world’s history to express their 
 thoughts, their taste, and their genius. It is of very little importance 
 for us to knoAv the precise composition of the pomades used by Greek 
 and Roman ladies, but it is of great importance to us to understand 
 their social and domestic condition, the employment of their leisure, 
 the culture of their minds. I shall not find fault Avith historical 
 painters for knoAving hoAV many strings of pearls the satraps carried 
 around their necks, and whether they Avore shoes, socks, or san- 
 dals, provided it has been first ascertained Avhat a satrap really Avas. 
 Archæological studies Avili be profitable to the arts provided they suc- 
 ceed in developing ruling principles, the causes and the logical order 
 of facts ; and Avhen, in the course of these investigations, our attention 
 is attracted by mere details and minor consequences, Ave certainly 
 should not give them more importance than is justly their due in 
 the history of mankind, neither should Ave neglect or lay them aside 
 as entirely umvorthy of notice; they should be classified methodi- 
 cally, according to their bearing upon the more vital points at issue. 
 In a word, the true part of archaeology should not be to restrict the 
 
510 
 
 DISCOUESES ON A EC H ITECTU EE . 
 
 spirit of the artist, but, on the contrary, to enlarge it by teaching 
 him the nature of those great invariable principles which must al- 
 ways control intellectual effort. 
 
 But the great question of this nineteenth century, that which daily 
 assumes increased importance and must in the end predominate over 
 all others, is the matter of expense, the financial question. The 
 more prosperous society becomes and the more abundant the wealth 
 of nations, the stronger is the tendency of mankind to employ their 
 resources judiciously ; useless expenses offend the public sentiment. 
 As civilization advances, every individual of a community has a 
 greater interest in the commonwealth, better appreciates the value 
 of tilings, and is more sensitive to the improper employment of the 
 public resources. In a word, the people complain not of a profuse 
 but of a misdirected use of the public moneys. Now, in all modern 
 civilized nations public buildings must occupy a conspicuous position 
 in the list of appropriations ; it is therefore not only necessary that 
 these buildings should be useful, good, and beautiful, but that they 
 should not exceed their estimates. A wise political economy requires 
 that no public enterprise should be undertaken before the cost is 
 counted and the details and causes of expenditure known. It is to 
 be feared that architecture is scarcely in a condition at present to 
 satisfy this reasonable condition. Among the curious contradictions 
 in which our era abounds, there is one very remarkable phenomenon. 
 Statesmen are very apt to think, if they do not say, that a passion for 
 building is ruinous to the country, and that it would be the wisest 
 economy to erect, for all public purposes, the plainest kind of barracks 
 warranted to last for fifty years. They are not unnaturally frightened 
 at the enormous sums lavished for buildings whose destination is not 
 perfectly defined and which affect certain costly forms' of architecture 
 which cannot lie explained by any considerations of propriety. In 
 their eyes, the architect is an enemy of the public wealth, a conspira- 
 tor against the treasury. On the other hand, the architects who are 
 fostered and protected by government are so educated as fully to 
 justify this common distrust, since they are never taught the admin- 
 istration of works, nor the judicious use of materials, nor the proper 
 adjustment of architectural forms and methods of construction to the 
 practical requirements it is their business to satisfy. Thus, in one 
 corner of Paris the state brings up young architects who, in another 
 corner, are entirely distrusted. The state blames its own architects 
 
TRUE ECONOMY. 
 
 517 
 
 for ignorance on those points which are entirely neglected in its own 
 schools. Now it is worthy of especial remark, that the state Avas 
 never ruined by building during those epochs when architecture Avas 
 in perfect harmony with the manners, needs, material resources, and 
 necessities of the time. The monuments which the Romans built in 
 their provinces, far from ruining them, contributed largely to spread the 
 area of civilization and to diffuse ideas of order, wealth, and comfort. 
 Trance was not ruined at the end of the thirteenth century, which 
 had been an era especially remarkable for activity and enterprise in 
 civil and religious building to meet requirements until then unknown. 
 It was not embarrassed by the unusual expenditure, because the 
 monuments erected represented, not an indefinable desire for pom- 
 pous display, but a distinct and tangible idea, and were constructed to 
 fulfil exactly certain serious and actual requirements. Their degree 
 of richness Avas in proportion to their destination, and it \A'as impos- 
 sible then to mistake a palace for a hospital, or a town hall for a 
 princely residence. The forms of architecture Avere the product and 
 visible manifestation of the necessities of the time. In a Avord, the 
 art Avas flexible to all the practical and æsthetical uses of building, 
 Avas comprehended by all, and not a mere conventional formula, with 
 Avhicli the public could have no sympathy and in which the available 
 resources of the time found no natural expression. It accommodated 
 itself readily to the prevailing customs, and, free in all its develop- 
 ments, had not yet learned to confine itself in a strait-jacket of 
 unreasonable and inexplicable conventionalities. 
 
 
 THE END. 
 
 University Press, Cambridge: Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co. 
 
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