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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Stones of Venice, Volume I (of 3)</p> +<p>Author: John Ruskin</p> +<p>Release Date: December 27, 2009 [eBook #30754]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STONES OF VENICE, VOLUME I (OF 3)***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Marius Masi, Juliet Sutherland,<br /> + and the<br /> + Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +</div> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="10" style="background-color: #ddddee; color: #000000; " summary="Transcriber's note"> +<tr> +<td style="width:25%; vertical-align:top"> +Transcriber's note: +</td> +<td class="norm"> +A few typographical errors have been corrected. They +appear in the text <span class="correction" title="explanation will pop up">like this</span>, and the +explanation will appear when the mouse pointer is moved over the marked +passage. <br /><br /> +</td> +</tr> + +<tr><td style="width:25%; vertical-align:top"> +Linked volumes +</td> +<td class="norm"> +The index of this three-volume work is in Volume III, with links to +all three volumes; and some footnotes are linked between volumes. +These links are designed to work when the book is read on line. For +information on the downloading of all three interlinked volumes so +that the links work on your own computer, see the +<a name="tn" id="tn"></a><a href="#tntag">Transcriber's Note</a> +at the end of this book. +</td> </tr> +</table> + +<h3>Links to</h3> +<h3><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/30755/30755-h/30755-h.htm">Volume II</a></h3> +<h3><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/30756/30756-h/30756-h.htm">Volume III</a></h3> + + + +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div style="padding-top: 3em; "> </div> + +<h3>THE COMPLETE WORKS</h3> + +<h5>OF</h5> + +<h3>JOHN RUSKIN</h3> + +<h4>VOLUME VII</h4> +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>STONES OF VENICE</h4> + +<h4>VOLUME I</h4> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1"></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/img001.jpg" width="650" height="402" alt="VENICE" title="VENICE" /></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">VENICE<br /> + <span style="font-size: 80%; ">FROM A PAINTING BY</span><br /> + J. M. W. TURNER +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<div style="padding-top: 3em; "> </div> +<table class="allbctr" style="width: 60%; " summary="Front page"> +<tr> <td class="pd" style="border-bottom: black 1px solid; " colspan="2"><h5>Library Edition</h5> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td style="padding-top: 3em; " colspan="2"><h3>THE COMPLETE WORKS</h3> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td colspan="2"><h6>OF</h6> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td style="padding-bottom: 5em; " colspan="2"><h2>JOHN RUSKIN</h2> </td> </tr> + + +<tr> <td style="padding-bottom: 5em; " colspan="2"><h5>STONES OF VENICE<br /> +<span class="sc">Volumes I-II</span><br /></h5> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td style="border-top: black 1px solid; padding-top: 1.5em; " colspan="2"><h3>NATIONAL LIBRARY ASSOCIATION</h3> </td> </tr> +<tr> <td><h3 style="text-align: left; padding-left: 3em; ">NEW YORK</h3></td> + <td><h3 style="text-align: right; padding-right: 3em; ">CHICAGO</h3></td> </tr> +</table> + + +<div style="padding-top: 3em; "> </div> +<h2>THE</h2> +<h2>STONES OF VENICE</h2> + +<h3>VOLUME I.</h3> + +<h3>THE FOUNDATIONS</h3> + +<div style="padding-top: 3em; "> </div> +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pageiii"></a>iii</span></p> + +<h3>PREFACE.</h3> +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><span class="sc">In</span> the course of arranging the following essay, I put many +things aside in my thoughts to be said in the Preface, things +which I shall now put aside altogether, and pass by; for when +a book has been advertised a year and a half, it seems best to +present it with as little preface as possible.</p> + +<p>Thus much, however, it is necessary for the reader to +know, that, when I planned the work, I had materials by me, +collected at different times of sojourn in Venice during the +last seventeen years, which it seemed to me might be arranged +with little difficulty, and which I believe to be of value as +illustrating the history of Southern Gothic. Requiring, +however, some clearer assurance respecting certain points of +chronology, I went to Venice finally in the autumn of 1849, +not doubting but that the dates of the principal edifices of +the ancient city were either ascertained, or ascertainable without +extraordinary research. To my consternation, I found +that the Venetian antiquaries were not agreed within a century +as to the date of the building of the façades of the Ducal +Palace, and that nothing was known of any other civil edifice +of the early city, except that at some time or other it had been +fitted up for somebody’s reception, and been thereupon fresh +painted. Every date in question was determinable only by +internal evidence, and it became necessary for me to examine +not only every one of the older palaces, stone by stone, but +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pageiv"></a>iv</span> +every fragment throughout the city which afforded any clue +to the formation of its styles. This I did as well as I could, +and I believe there will be found, in the following pages, the +only existing account of the details of early Venetian architecture +on which dependence can be placed, as far as it goes. I +do not care to point out the deficiencies of other works on this +subject; the reader will find, if he examines them, either that +the buildings to which I shall specially direct his attention +have been hitherto undescribed, or else that there are great +discrepancies between previous descriptions and mine: for +which discrepancies I may be permitted to give this single and +sufficient reason, that my account of every building is based +on personal examination and measurement of it, and that my +taking the pains so to examine what I had to describe, was a +subject of grave surprise to my Italian friends. The work of +the Marchese Selvatico is, however, to be distinguished with +respect; it is clear in arrangement, and full of useful, though +vague, information; and I have found cause to adopt, in great +measure, its views of the chronological succession of the +edifices of Venice. I shall have cause hereafter to quarrel +with it on other grounds, but not without expression of gratitude +for the assistance it has given me. Fontana’s “Fabbriche +di Venezia” is also historically valuable, but does not attempt +to give architectural detail. Cicognara, as is now generally +known, is so inaccurate as hardly to deserve mention.</p> + +<p>Indeed, it is not easy to be accurate in an account of anything, +however simple. Zoologists often disagree in their +descriptions of the curve of a shell, or the plumage of a bird, +though they may lay their specimen on the table, and examine +it at their leisure; how much greater becomes the likelihood +of error in the description of things which must be in +many parts observed from a distance, or under unfavorable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pagev"></a>v</span> +circumstances of light and shade; and of which many of the +distinctive features have been worn away by time. I believe +few people have any idea of the cost of truth in these things; +of the expenditure of time necessary to make sure of the +simplest facts, and of the strange way in which separate observations +will sometimes falsify each other, incapable of reconcilement, +owing to some imperceptible inadvertency. I am +ashamed of the number of times in which I have had to say, +in the following pages, “I am not sure,” and I claim for them +no authority, as if they were thoroughly sifted from error, +even in what they more confidently state. Only, as far as my +time, and strength, and mind served me, I have endeavored +down to the smallest matters, to ascertain and speak the truth.</p> + +<p>Nor was the subject without many and most discouraging +difficulties, peculiar to itself. As far as my inquiries have extended, +there is not a building in Venice, raised prior to the +sixteenth century, which has not sustained essential change in +one or more of its most important features. By far the +greater number present examples of three or four different +styles, it may be successive, it may be accidentally associated; +and, in many instances, the restorations or additions have +gradually replaced the entire structure of the ancient fabric, of +which nothing but the name remains, together with a kind of +identity, exhibited in the anomalous association of the modernized +portions: the Will of the old building asserted through +them all, stubbornly, though vainly, expressive; superseded +by codicils, and falsified by misinterpretation; yet animating +what would otherwise be a mere group of fantastic masque, as +embarrassing to the antiquary, as to the mineralogist, the +epigene crystal, formed by materials of one substance modelled +on the perished crystals of another. The church of St. Mark’s +itself, harmonious as its structure may at first sight appear, is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pagevi"></a>vi</span> +an epitome of the changes of Venetian architecture from the +tenth to the nineteenth century. Its crypt, and the line of +low arches which support the screen, are apparently the earliest +portions; the lower stories of the main fabric are of the +eleventh and twelfth centuries, with later Gothic interpolations; +the pinnacles are of the earliest fully developed Venetian +Gothic (fourteenth century); but one of them, that on +the projection at the eastern extremity of the Piazzetta de +Leoni, is of far finer, and probably earlier workmanship than +all the rest. The southern range of pinnacles is again inferior +to the northern and western, and visibly of later date. Then +the screen, which most writers have described as part of the +original fabric, bears its date inscribed on its architrave, 1394, +and with it are associated a multitude of small screens, balustrades, +decorations of the interior building, and probably the +rose window of the south transept. Then come the interpolated +traceries of the front and sides; then the crocketings +of the upper arches, extravagances of the incipient Renaissance: +and, finally, the figures which carry the waterspouts on +the north side—utterly barbarous seventeenth or eighteenth +century work—connect the whole with the plastered restorations +of the year 1844 and 1845. Most of the palaces in Venice +have sustained interpolations hardly less numerous; and those +of the Ducal Palace are so intricate, that a year’s labor would +probably be insufficient altogether to disentangle and define +them. I therefore gave up all thoughts of obtaining a perfectly +clear chronological view of the early architecture; but +the dates necessary to the main purposes of the book the reader +will find well established; and of the evidence brought forward +for those of less importance, he is himself to judge. +Doubtful estimates are never made grounds of argument; and +the accuracy of the account of the buildings themselves, for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pagevii"></a>vii</span> +which alone I pledge myself, is of course entirely independent +of them.</p> + +<p>In like manner, as the statements briefly made in the +chapters on construction involve questions so difficult and so general, +that I cannot hope that every expression referring to them +will be found free from error: and as the conclusions to which +I have endeavored to lead the reader are thrown into a form +the validity of which depends on that of each successive step, +it might be argued, if fallacy or weakness could be detected in +one of them, that all the subsequent reasonings were valueless. +The reader may be assured, however, that it is not so; the +method of proof used in the following essay being only one +out of many which were in my choice, adopted because it +seemed to me the shortest and simplest, not as being the +strongest. In many cases, the conclusions are those which +men of quick feeling would arrive at instinctively; and I then +sought to discover the reasons of what so strongly recommended +itself as truth. Though these reasons could every one of +them, from the beginning to the end of the book, be proved +insufficient, the truth of its conclusions would remain the same. +I should only regret that I had dishonored them by an ill-grounded +defence; and endeavor to repair my error by a better +one.</p> + +<p>I have not, however, written carelessly; nor should I in +any wise have expressed doubt of the security of the following +argument, but that it is physically impossible for me, being +engaged quite as much with mountains, and clouds, and trees, +and criticism of painting, as with architecture, to verify, as I +should desire, the expression of every sentence bearing upon +empirical and technical matters. Life is not long enough; nor +does a day pass by without causing me to feel more bitterly +the impossibility of carrying out to the extent which I should +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pageviii"></a>viii</span> +desire, the separate studies which general criticism continually +forces me to undertake. I can only assure the reader, that he +will find the certainty of every statement I permit myself to +make, increase with its importance; and that, for the security +of the final conclusions of the following essay, as well as for +the resolute veracity of its account of whatever facts have +come under my own immediate cognizance, I will pledge myself +to the uttermost.</p> + +<p>It was necessary, to the accomplishment of the purpose of +the work (of which account is given in the First Chapter), that +I should establish some canons of judgment, which the general +reader should thoroughly understand, and, if it pleased him, +accept, before we took cognizance, together, of any architecture +whatsoever. It has taken me more time and trouble to do this +than I expected; but, if I have succeeded, the thing done will +be of use for many other purposes than that to which it is now +put. The establishment of these canons, which I have called +“the Foundations,” and some account of the connection of +Venetian architecture with that of the rest of Europe, have +filled the present volume. The second will, I hope, contain all +I have to say about Venice itself.</p> + +<p>It was of course inexpedient to reduce drawings of crowded +details to the size of an octavo volume,—I do not say impossible, +but inexpedient; requiring infinite pains on the part of +the engraver, with no result except farther pains to the beholder. +And as, on the other hand, folio books are not easy +reading, I determined to separate the text and the unreducible +plates. I have given, with the principal text, all the illustrations +absolutely necessary to the understanding of it, and, in +the detached work, such additional text as has special reference +to the larger illustrations.</p> + +<p>A considerable number of these larger plates were at first +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pageix"></a>ix</span> +intended to be executed in tinted lithography; but, finding the +result unsatisfactory, I have determined to prepare the principal +subjects for mezzotinting,—a change of method requiring +two new drawings to be made of every subject; one a carefully +penned outline for the etcher, and then a finished drawing +upon the etching. This work does not proceed fast, while I +am also occupied with the completion of the text; but the +numbers of it will appear as fast as I can prepare them.</p> + +<p>For the illustrations of the body of the work itself, I have +used any kind of engraving which seemed suited to the subjects—line +and mezzotint, on steel, with mixed lithographs +and woodcuts, at considerable loss of uniformity in the appearance +of the volume, but, I hope, with advantage, in rendering +the character of the architecture it describes. And both in +the plates and the text I have aimed chiefly at clear intelligibility; +that any one, however little versed in the subject, might +be able to take up the book, and understand what it meant +forthwith. I have utterly failed of my purpose, if I have not +made all the essential parts of the essay intelligible to the least +learned, and easy to the most desultory readers, who are likely +to take interest in the matter at all. There are few passages +which even require so much as an acquaintance with the elements +of Euclid, and these may be missed, without harm to +the sense of the rest, by every reader to whom they may +appear mysterious; and the architectural terms necessarily employed +(which are very few) are explained as they occur, or in +a note; so that, though I may often be found trite or tedious, +I trust that I shall not be obscure. I am especially anxious to +rid this essay of ambiguity, because I want to gain the ear of +all kinds of persons. Every man has, at some time of his life, +personal interest in architecture. He has influence on the +design of some public building; or he has to buy, or build, or +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pagex"></a>x</span> +alter his own house. It signifies less whether the knowledge +of other arts be general or not; men may live without buying +pictures or statues: but, in architecture, all must in some way +commit themselves; they <i>must</i> do mischief, and waste their +money, if they do not know how to turn it to account. +Churches, and shops, and warehouses, and cottages, and small +row, and place, and terrace houses, must be built, and lived in, +however joyless or inconvenient. And it is assuredly intended +that all of us should have knowledge, and act upon our knowledge, +in matters with which we are daily concerned, and not +to be left to the caprice of architects or mercy of contractors. +There is not, indeed, anything in the following essay bearing +on the special forms and needs of modern buildings; but the +principles it inculcates are universal; and they are illustrated +from the remains of a city which should surely be interesting +to the men of London, as affording the richest existing examples +of architecture raised by a mercantile community, for +civil uses, and domestic magnificence.</p> + +<p class="f90"><span class="sc">Denmark Hill</span>, <i>February</i>, 1851.</p> + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexi"></a>xi</span></p> + +<h3>CONTENTS.</h3> +<hr class="short" /> + +<table class="nobctr" width="80%" summary="Contents"> + +<tr> <td> </td> + <td class="rsp"><span class="sc f80">page</span> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="lsp">Preface, </td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#pageiii">iii</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER I.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Quarry,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page001">1</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER II.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Virtues of Architecture,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page036">36</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER III.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Six Divisions of Architecture,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page047">47</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER IV.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Wall Base,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page052">52</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER V.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Wall Veil,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page058">58</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER VI.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Wall Cornice,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page063">63</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER VII.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Pier Base,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page071">71</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER VIII.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Shaft,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page084">84</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER IX.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Capital,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page105">105</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexii"></a>xii</span> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER X.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Arch Line,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page122">122</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XI.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Arch Masonry,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page132">132</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XII.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Arch Load,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page144">144</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIII.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Roof,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page148">148</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIV.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Roof Cornice,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page155">155</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XV.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Buttress,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page166">166</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVI.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">Form of Aperture,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page174">174</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVII.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">Filling of Aperture,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page183">183</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XVIII.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">Protection of Aperture,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page195">195</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XIX.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">Superimposition,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page200">200</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XX.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Material of Ornament,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page211">211</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXI.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">Treatment of Ornament,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page236">236</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexiii"></a>xiii</span> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXII.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Angle,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page259">259</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXII.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Angle,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page259">259</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIII.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Edge and Fillet,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page267">267</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIV.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Roll and Recess,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page276">276</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXV.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Base,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page281">281</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXVI.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Wall Veil and Shaft,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page294">294</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXVII.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Cornice and Capital,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page305">305</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXVIII.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Archivolt and Aperture,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page333">333</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXIX.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Roof,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page343">343</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="center" colspan="2">CHAPTER XXX.</td> </tr> +<tr> <td class="lsp">The Vestibule,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page349">349</a> </td> </tr> +</table> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h5>APPENDIX.</h5> + +<table class="nobctr" width="80%" summary="Contents"> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">1.</td> + <td class="tc3">Foundation of Venice,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page359">359</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">2.</td> + <td class="tc3">Power of the Doges,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page360">360</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">3.</td> + <td class="tc3">Serrar del Consiglio,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page360">360</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">4.</td> + <td class="tc3">Pietro di Castello,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page361">361</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexiv"></a>xiv</span> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">5.</td> + <td class="tc3">Papal Power in Venice,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page362">362</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">6.</td> + <td class="tc3">Renaissance Ornament,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page369">369</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">7.</td> + <td class="tc3">Varieties of the Orders,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page370">370</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">8.</td> + <td class="tc3">The Northern Energy,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page371">371</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">9.</td> + <td class="tc3">Wooden Churches of the North,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page381">381</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">10.</td> + <td class="tc3">Church of Alexandria, </td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page381">381</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">11.</td> + <td class="tc3">Renaissance Landscape,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page381">381</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">12.</td> + <td class="tc3">Romanist Modern Art,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page384">384</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">13.</td> + <td class="tc3">Mr. Fergusson’s System,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page388">388</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">14.</td> + <td class="tc3">Divisions of Humanity,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page394">394</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">15.</td> + <td class="tc3">Instinctive Judgments,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page399">399</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">16.</td> + <td class="tc3">Strength of Shafts,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page402">402</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">17.</td> + <td class="tc3">Answer to Mr. Garbett,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page403">403</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">18.</td> + <td class="tc3">Early English Capitals,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page411">411</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">19.</td> + <td class="tc3">Tombs near St. Anastasia,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page412">412</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">20.</td> + <td class="tc3">Shafts of the Ducal Palace,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page413">413</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">21.</td> + <td class="tc3">Ancient Representations of Water,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page417">417</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">22.</td> + <td class="tc3">Arabian Ornamentation,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page429">429</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">23.</td> + <td class="tc3">Varieties of Chamfer,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page429">429</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">24.</td> + <td class="tc3">Renaissance Bases,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page431">431</a> </td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc2" style="width: 1.5em; ">25.</td> + <td class="tc3">Romanist Decoration of Bases,</td> + <td class="rsp"><a href="#page432">432</a> </td> </tr> + +</table> + +<div style="padding-top: 3em; "> </div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexv"></a>xv</span></p> + +<h3>LIST OF PLATES.</h3> +<hr class="short" /> + +<table class="nobctr" width="90%" summary="Contents"> + +<tr> <td class="tc1" style="width: 3em; "> </td> + <td class="tc2" style="width: 1em; "> </td> + <td class="tc3"> </td> + <td class="tc4"><span style="font-size: 75%; ">Facing Page</span></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">Plate</td> + <td class="tc2">1.</td> + <td class="tc3">Wall Veil Decoration, Ca’ Trevisan and Ca’ Dario,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page013">13</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">2.</td> + <td class="tc3">Plans of Piers,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page100">100</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">3.</td> + <td class="tc3">Arch Masonry,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page134">134</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">4.</td> + <td class="tc3">Arch Masonry,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page137">137</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">5.</td> + <td class="tc3">Arch Masonry, Bruletto of Como,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page141">141</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">6.</td> + <td class="tc3">Types of Towers,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page207">207</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">7.</td> + <td class="tc3">Abstracts Lines,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page222">222</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">8.</td> + <td class="tc3">Decorations by Disks, Ca’ Badoari,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page241">241</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">9.</td> + <td class="tc3">Edge Decoration,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page268">268</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">10.</td> + <td class="tc3">Profiles of Bases,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page283">283</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">11.</td> + <td class="tc3">Plans of Bases,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page288">288</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">12.</td> + <td class="tc3">Decorations of Bases,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page289">289</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">13.</td> + <td class="tc3">Wall Veil Decorations,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page295">295</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">14.</td> + <td class="tc3">Spandril Decorations, Ducal Palace,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page298">298</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">15.</td> + <td class="tc3">Cornice Profiles,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page306">306</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">16.</td> + <td class="tc3">Cornice Decorations,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page311">311</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">17.</td> + <td class="tc3">Capitals—Concave,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page323">323</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">18.</td> + <td class="tc3">Capitals—Convex,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page327">327</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">19.</td> + <td class="tc3">Archivolt Decoration, Verona,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page333">333</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">20.</td> + <td class="tc3">Wall Veil Decoration, Ca’ Trevisan,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page369">369</a></td> </tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc1">"</td> + <td class="tc2">21.</td> + <td class="tc3">Wall Veil Decoration, San Michele, Lucca,</td> + <td class="tc4"><a href="#page378">378</a></td> </tr> +</table> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pagexvi"></a>xvi</span></p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page001"></a>1</span></p> + + +<h4>THE</h4> + +<h2>STONES OF VENICE.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> + + + + +<h3><a name="chap_1" id="chap_1"></a>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h5>THE QUARRY.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">Since</span> the first dominion of men was asserted over the +ocean, three thrones, of mark beyond all others, have been set +upon its sands: the thrones of Tyre, Venice, and England. +Of the First of these great powers only the memory remains; +of the Second, the ruin; the Third, which inherits their greatness, +if it forget their example, may be led through prouder +eminence to less pitied destruction.</p> + +<p>The exaltation, the sin, and the punishment of Tyre have +been recorded for us, in perhaps the most touching words ever +uttered by the Prophets of Israel against the cities of the +stranger. But we read them as a lovely song; and close our +ears to the sternness of their warning: for the very depth of +the Fall of Tyre has blinded us to its reality, and we forget, +as we watch the bleaching of the rocks between the sunshine +and the sea, that they were once “as in Eden, the garden of +God.”</p> + +<p>Her successor, like her in perfection of beauty, though less +in endurance of dominion, is still left for our beholding in the +final period of her decline: a ghost upon the sands of the sea, +so weak—so quiet,—so bereft of all but her loveliness, that we +might well doubt, as we watched her faint reflection in the +mirage of the lagoon, which was the City, and which the +Shadow.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page002"></a>2</span></p> + +<p>I would endeavor to trace the lines of this image before it +be for ever lost, and to record, as far as I may, the warning +which seems to me to be uttered by every one of the fast-gaining +waves, that beat, like passing bells, against the <span class="sc">Stones of +Venice</span>.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. It would be difficult to overrate the value of the lessons +which might be derived from a faithful study of the history +of this strange and mighty city: a history which, in spite +of the labor of countless chroniclers, remains in vague and disputable +outline,—barred with brightness and shade, like the +far away edge of her own ocean, where the surf and the sand-bank +are mingled with the sky. The inquiries in which we +have to engage will hardly render this outline clearer, but +their results will, in some degree, alter its aspect; and, so far +as they bear upon it at all, they possess an interest of a far +higher kind than that usually belonging to architectural investigations. +I may, perhaps, in the outset, and in few words, +enable the general reader to form a clearer idea of the importance +of every existing expression of Venetian character +through Venetian art, and of the breadth of interest which +the true history of Venice embraces, than he is likely to have +gleaned from the current fables of her mystery or magnificence.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. Venice is usually conceived as an oligarchy: She was +so during a period less than the half of her existence, and that +including the days of her decline; and it is one of the first +questions needing severe examination, whether that decline +was owing in any wise to the change in the form of her government, +or altogether, as assuredly in great part, to changes, +in the character of the persons of whom it was composed.</p> + +<p>The state of Venice existed Thirteen Hundred and Seventy-six +years, from the first establishment of a consular government +on the island of the Rialto,<a name="FnAnchor_1" href="#Footnote_1"><span class="sp">1</span></a> to the moment when the +General-in-chief of the French army of Italy pronounced the +Venetian republic a thing of the past. Of this period, Two +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page003"></a>3</span> +Hundred and Seventy-six<a name="FnAnchor_2" href="#Footnote_2"><span class="sp">2</span></a> years were passed in a nominal subjection +to the cities of old Venetia, especially to Padua, and in +an agitated form of democracy, of which the executive appears +to have been entrusted to tribunes,<a name="FnAnchor_3" href="#Footnote_3"><span class="sp">3</span></a> chosen, one by the inhabitants +of each of the principal islands. For six hundred years,<a name="FnAnchor_4" href="#Footnote_4"><span class="sp">4</span></a> +during which the power of Venice was continually on the increase, +her government was an elective monarchy, her King or +doge possessing, in early times at least, as much independent +authority as any other European sovereign, but an authority +gradually subjected to limitation, and shortened almost daily of +its prerogatives, while it increased in a spectral and incapable +magnificence. The final government of the nobles, under the +image of a king, lasted for five hundred years, during which +Venice reaped the fruits of her former energies, consumed +them,—and expired.</p> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. Let the reader therefore conceive the existence of the +Venetian state as broadly divided into two periods: the first +of nine hundred, the second of five hundred years, the separation +being marked by what was called the “Serrar del Consiglio;” +that is to say, the final and absolute distinction of the +nobles from the commonalty, and the establishment of the +government in their hands to the exclusion alike of the influence +of the people on the one side, and the authority of the +doge on the other.</p> + +<p>Then the first period, of nine hundred years, presents us +with the most interesting spectacle of a people struggling out +of anarchy into order and power; and then governed, for the +most part, by the worthiest and noblest man whom they could +find among them,<a name="FnAnchor_5" href="#Footnote_5"><span class="sp">5</span></a> called their Doge or Leader, with an aristocracy +gradually and resolutely forming itself around him, +out of which, and at last by which, he was chosen; an aristocracy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page004"></a>4</span> +owing its origin to the accidental numbers, influence, and +wealth of some among the families of the fugitives from the +older Venetia, and gradually organizing itself, by its unity and +heroism, into a separate body.</p> + +<p>This first period includes the rise of Venice, her noblest +achievements, and the circumstances which determined her +character and position among European powers; and within +its range, as might have been anticipated, we find the names of +all her hero princes,—of Pietro Urseolo, Ordalafo Falier, +Domenico Michieli, Sebastiano Ziani, and Enrico Dandolo.</p> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. The second period opens with a hundred and twenty +years, the most eventful in the career of Venice—the central +struggle of her life—stained with her darkest crime, the murder +of Carrara—disturbed by her most dangerous internal +sedition, the conspiracy of Falier—oppressed by her most fatal +war, the war of Chiozza—and distinguished by the glory of +her two noblest citizens (for in this period the heroism of her +citizens replaces that of her monarchs), Vittor Pisani and Carlo +Zeno.</p> + +<p>I date the commencement of the Fall of Venice from the +death of Carlo Zeno, 8th May, 1418;<a name="FnAnchor_6" href="#Footnote_6"><span class="sp">6</span></a> the <i>visible</i> commencement +from that of another of her noblest and wisest children, +the Doge Tomaso Mocenigo, who expired five years later. +The reign of Foscari followed, gloomy with pestilence and +war; a war in which large acquisitions of territory were made +by subtle or fortunate policy in Lombardy, and disgrace, significant +as irreparable, sustained in the battles on the Po at +Cremona, and in the marshes of Caravaggio. In 1454, Venice, +the first of the states of Christendom, humiliated herself to +the Turk: in the same year was established the Inquisition of +State,<a name="FnAnchor_7" href="#Footnote_7"><span class="sp">7</span></a> and from this period her government takes the perfidious +and mysterious form under which it is usually conceived. +In 1477, the great Turkish invasion spread terror to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page005"></a>5</span> +shores of the lagoons; and in 1508 the league of Cambrai +marks the period usually assigned as the commencement of the +decline of the Venetian power;<a name="FnAnchor_8" href="#Footnote_8"><span class="sp">8</span></a> the commercial prosperity of +Venice in the close of the fifteenth century blinding her historians +to the previous evidence of the diminution of her internal +strength.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. Now there is apparently a significative coincidence +between the establishment of the aristocratic and oligarchical +powers, and the diminution of the prosperity of the state. But +this is the very question at issue; and it appears to me quite +undetermined by any historian, or determined by each in accordance +with his own prejudices. It is a triple question: +first, whether the oligarchy established by the efforts of individual +ambition was the cause, in its subsequent operation, of +the Fall of Venice; or (secondly) whether the establishment of +the oligarchy itself be not the sign and evidence, rather than +the cause, of national enervation; or (lastly) whether, as I +rather think, the history of Venice might not be written +almost without reference to the construction of her senate or +the prerogatives of her Doge. It is the history of a people +eminently at unity in itself, descendants of Roman race, long +disciplined by adversity, and compelled by its position either to +live nobly or to perish:—for a thousand years they fought for +life; for three hundred they invited death: their battle was +rewarded, and their call was heard.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. Throughout her career, the victories of Venice, and, +at many periods of it, her safety, were purchased by individual +heroism; and the man who exalted or saved her was sometimes +(oftenest) her king, sometimes a noble, sometimes a citizen. +To him no matter, nor to her: the real question is, not so +much what names they bore, or with what powers they were +entrusted, as how they were trained; how they were made +masters of themselves, servants of their country, patient of +distress, impatient of dishonor; and what was the true reason +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page006"></a>6</span> +of the change from the time when she could find saviours +among those whom she had cast into prison, to that when the +voices of her own children commanded her to sign covenant +with Death.<a name="FnAnchor_9" href="#Footnote_9"><span class="sp">9</span></a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. On this collateral question I wish the reader’s mind +to be fixed throughout all our subsequent inquiries. It will +give double interest to every detail: nor will the interest be +profitless; for the evidence which I shall be able to deduce +from the arts of Venice will be both frequent and irrefragable, +that the decline of her political prosperity was exactly coincident +with that of domestic and individual religion.</p> + +<p>I say domestic and individual; for—and this is the second +point which I wish the reader to keep in mind—the most +curious phenomenon in all Venetian history is the vitality of +religion in private life, and its deadness in public policy. +Amidst the enthusiasm, chivalry, or fanaticism of the other +states of Europe, Venice stands, from first to last, like a +masked statue; her coldness impenetrable, her exertion only +aroused by the touch of a secret spring. That spring was her +commercial interest,—this the one motive of all her important +political acts, or enduring national animosities. She could +forgive insults to her honor, but never rivalship in her commerce; +she calculated the glory of her conquests by their +value, and estimated their justice by their facility. The fame +of success remains, when the motives of attempt are forgotten; +and the casual reader of her history may perhaps be surprised +to be reminded, that the expedition which was commanded by +the noblest of her princes, and whose results added most to her +military glory, was one in which while all Europe around her +was wasted by the fire of its devotion, she first calculated the +highest price she could exact from its piety for the armament +she furnished, and then, for the advancement of her own private +interests, at once broke her faith<a name="FnAnchor_10" href="#Footnote_10"><span class="sp">10</span></a> and betrayed her religion.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page007"></a>7</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. And yet, in the midst of this national criminality, we +shall be struck again and again by the evidences of the most +noble individual feeling. The tears of Dandolo were not shed +in hypocrisy, though they could not blind him to the importance +of the conquest of Zara. The habit of assigning to religion +a direct influence over all <i>his own</i> actions, and all the +affairs of <i>his own</i> daily life, is remarkable in every great +Venetian during the times of the prosperity of the state; nor +are instances wanting in which the private feeling of the citizens +reaches the sphere of their policy, and even becomes the +guide of its course where the scales of expediency are doubtfully +balanced. I sincerely trust that the inquirer would be +disappointed who should endeavor to trace any more immediate +reasons for their adoption of the cause of Alexander III. +against Barbarossa, than the piety which was excited by the +character of their suppliant, and the noble pride which was +provoked by the insolence of the emperor. But the heart of +Venice is shown only in her hastiest councils; her worldly +spirit recovers the ascendency whenever she has time to calculate +the probabilities of advantage, or when they are sufficiently +distinct to need no calculation; and the entire subjection +of private piety to national policy is not only remarkable +throughout the almost endless series of treacheries and tyrannies +by which her empire was enlarged and maintained, but +symbolised by a very singular circumstance in the building of +the city itself. I am aware of no other city of Europe in +which its cathedral was not the principal feature. But the +principal church in Venice was the chapel attached to the +palace of her prince, and called the “Chiesa Ducale.” The +patriarchal church,<a name="FnAnchor_11" href="#Footnote_11"><span class="sp">11</span></a> inconsiderable in size and mean in decoration, +stands on the outermost islet of the Venetian group, +and its name, as well as its site, is probably unknown to the +greater number of travellers passing hastily through the city. +Nor is it less worthy of remark, that the two most important +temples of Venice, next to the ducal chapel, owe their size and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page008"></a>8</span> +magnificence, not to national effort, but to the energy of the +Franciscan and Dominican monks, supported by the vast +organization of those great societies on the mainland of Italy, +and countenanced by the most pious, and perhaps also, in his +generation, the most wise, of all the princes of Venice,<a name="FnAnchor_12" href="#Footnote_12"><span class="sp">12</span></a> who +now rests beneath the roof of one of those very temples, and +whose life is not satirized by the images of the Virtues which +a Tuscan sculptor has placed around his tomb.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. There are, therefore, two strange and solemn lights +in which we have to regard almost every scene in the fitful +history of the Rivo Alto. We find, on the one hand, a deep +and constant tone of individual religion characterising the +lives of the citizens of Venice in her greatness; we find this +spirit influencing them in all the familiar and immediate concerns +of life, giving a peculiar dignity to the conduct even of +their commercial transactions, and confessed by them with a +simplicity of faith that may well put to shame the hesitation +with which a man of the world at present admits (even if it +be so in reality) that religious feeling has any influence over +the minor branches of his conduct. And we find as the natural +consequence of all this, a healthy serenity of mind and +energy of will expressed in all their actions, and a habit of +heroism which never fails them, even when the immediate +motive of action ceases to be praiseworthy. With the fulness +of this spirit the prosperity of the state is exactly correspondent, +and with its failure her decline, and that with a closeness +and precision which it will be one of the collateral objects of +the following essay to demonstrate from such accidental evidence +as the field of its inquiry presents. And, thus far, all +is natural and simple. But the stopping short of this religious +faith when it appears likely to influence national action, correspondent +as it is, and that most strikingly, with several characteristics +of the temper of our present English legislature, is +a subject, morally and politically, of the most curious interest +and complicated difficulty; one, however, which the range +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page009"></a>9</span> +of my present inquiry will not permit me to approach, and for +the treatment of which I must be content to furnish materials +in the light I may be able to throw upon the private tendencies +of the Venetian character.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. There is, however, another most interesting feature +in the policy of Venice which will be often brought before us; +and which a Romanist would gladly assign as the reason of its +irreligion; namely, the magnificent and successful struggle +which she maintained against the temporal authority of the +Church of Rome. It is true that, in a rapid survey of her +career, the eye is at first arrested by the strange drama to +which I have already alluded, closed by that ever memorable +scene in the portico of St. Mark’s,<a name="FnAnchor_13" href="#Footnote_13"><span class="sp">13</span></a> the central expression in +most men’s thoughts of the unendurable elevation of the pontifical +power; it is true that the proudest thoughts of Venice, +as well as the insignia of her prince, and the form of her chief +festival, recorded the service thus rendered to the Roman +Church. But the enduring sentiment of years more than +balanced the enthusiasm of a moment; and the bull of Clement +V., which excommunicated the Venetians and their doge, +likening them to Dathan, Abiram, Absalom, and Lucifer, is a +stronger evidence of the great tendencies of the Venetian +government than the umbrella of the doge or the ring of the +Adriatic. The humiliation of Francesco Dandolo blotted out +the shame of Barbarossa, and the total exclusion of ecclesiastics +from all share in the councils of Venice became an enduring +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page010"></a>10</span> +mark of her knowledge of the spirit of the Church of Rome, +and of her defiance of it.</p> + +<p>To this exclusion of Papal influence from her councils, the +Romanist will attribute their irreligion, and the Protestant +their success.<a name="FnAnchor_14" href="#Footnote_14"><span class="sp">14</span></a> The first may be silenced by a reference to the +character of the policy of the Vatican itself; and the second by +his own shame, when he reflects that the English legislature +sacrificed their principles to expose themselves to the very +danger which the Venetian senate sacrificed theirs to avoid.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. One more circumstance remains to be noted respecting +the Venetian government, the singular unity of the families +composing it,—unity far from sincere or perfect, but still admirable +when contrasted with the fiery feuds, the almost daily +revolutions, the restless successions of families and parties in +power, which fill the annals of the other states of Italy. That +rivalship should sometimes be ended by the dagger, or enmity +conducted to its ends under the mask of law, could not but be +anticipated where the fierce Italian spirit was subjected to so +severe a restraint: it is much that jealousy appears usually unmingled +with illegitimate ambition, and that, for every instance +in which private passion sought its gratification through public +danger, there are a thousand in which it was sacrificed to the +public advantage. Venice may well call upon us to note with +reverence, that of all the towers which are still seen rising like +a branchless forest from her islands, there is but one whose office +was other than that of summoning to prayer, and that one was a +watch-tower only: from first to last, while the palaces of the +other cities of Italy were lifted into sullen fortitudes of rampart, +and fringed with forked battlements for the javelin and +the bow, the sands of Venice never sank under the weight of a +war tower, and her roof terraces were wreathed with Arabian +imagery, of golden globes suspended on the leaves of lilies.<a name="FnAnchor_15" href="#Footnote_15"><span class="sp">15</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page011"></a>11</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. These, then, appear to me to be the points of chief +general interest in the character and fate of the Venetian people. +I would next endeavor to give the reader some idea of +the manner in which the testimony of Art bears upon these +questions, and of the aspect which the arts themselves assume +when they are regarded in their true connexion with the history +of the state.</p> + +<p>1st. Receive the witness of Painting.</p> + +<p>It will be remembered that I put the commencement of the +Fall of Venice as far back as 1418.</p> + +<p>Now, John Bellini was born in 1423, and Titian in 1480. +John Bellini, and his brother Gentile, two years older than he, +close the line of the sacred painters of Venice. But the most +solemn spirit of religious faith animates their works to the last. +There is no religion in any work of Titian’s: there is not even +the smallest evidence of religious temper or sympathies either +in himself, or in those for whom he painted. His larger sacred +subjects are merely themes for the exhibition of pictorial rhetoric,—composition +and color. His minor works are generally +made subordinate to purposes of portraiture. The Madonna in +the church of the Frari is a mere lay figure, introduced to form +a link of connexion between the portraits of various members +of the Pesaro family who surround her.</p> + +<p>Now this is not merely because John Bellini was a religious +man and Titian was not. Titian and Bellini are each true representatives +of the school of painters contemporary with them; +and the difference in their artistic feeling is a consequence not +so much of difference in their own natural characters as in their +early education: Bellini was brought up in faith; Titian in +formalism. Between the years of their births the vital religion +of Venice had expired.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. The <i>vital</i> religion, observe, not the formal. Outward +observance was as strict as ever; and doge and senator +still were painted, in almost every important instance, kneeling +before the Madonna or St. Mark; a confession of faith made +universal by the pure gold of the Venetian sequin. But observe +the great picture of Titian’s in the ducal palace, of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page012"></a>12</span> +Doge Antonio Grimani kneeling before Faith: there is a +curious lesson in it. The figure of Faith is a coarse portrait +of one of Titian’s least graceful female models: Faith had +become carnal. The eye is first caught by the flash of the +Doge’s armor. The heart of Venice was in her wars, not in +her worship.</p> + +<p>The mind of Tintoret, incomparably more deep and serious +than that of Titian, casts the solemnity of its own tone over the +sacred subjects which it approaches, and sometimes forgets +itself into devotion; but the principle of treatment is altogether +the same as Titian’s: absolute subordination of the religious +subject to purposes of decoration or portraiture.</p> + +<p>The evidence might be accumulated a thousandfold from +the works of Veronese, and of every succeeding painter,—that +the fifteenth century had taken away the religious heart of +Venice.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV</span>. Such is the evidence of Painting. To collect that of +Architecture will be our task through many a page to come; +but I must here give a general idea of its heads.</p> + +<p>Philippe de Commynes, writing of his entry into Venice in +1495, says,—</p> + +<p>“Chascun me feit seoir au meillieu de ces deux ambassadeurs +qui est l’honneur d’Italie que d’estre au meillieu; et me +menerent au long de la grant rue, qu’ilz appellent le Canal +Grant, et est bien large. Les gallees y passent à travers et y ay +ven navire de quatre cens tonneaux ou plus pres des maisons: +et est la plus belle rue que je croy qui soit en tout le monde, et +la mieulx maisonnee, et va le long de la ville. Les maisons sont +fort grandes et haultes, et de bonne pierre, et les anciennes +toutes painctes; les aultres faictes depuis cent ans: toutes ont +le devant de marbre blanc, qui leur vient d’Istrie, à cent mils +de là, et encores maincte grant piece de porphire et de sarpentine +sur le devant.... C’est la plus triumphante cité +que j’aye jamais vene et qui plus faict d’honneur à ambassadeurs +et estrangiers, et qui plus saigement se gouverne, et où +le service de Dieu est le plus sollempnellement faict: et encores +qu’il y peust bien avoir d’aultres faultes, si je croy que Dieu +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page013"></a>13</span> +les a en ayde pour la reverence qu’ilz portent au service de +l’Eglise.”<a name="FnAnchor_16" href="#Footnote_16"><span class="sp">16</span></a></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">I.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_1"><img src="images/img013.jpg" width="340" height="650" alt="Wall-Veil-Decoration." title="Wall-Veil-Decoration." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">Wall-Veil-Decoration.<br /> + <span class="f80">CA’TREVISAN CA’DARIO.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. This passage is of peculiar interest, for two reasons. +Observe, first, the impression of Commynes respecting the religion +of Venice: of which, as I have above said, the forms still +remained with some glimmering of life in them, and were the +evidence of what the real life had been in former times. But +observe, secondly, the impression instantly made on Commynes’ +mind by the distinction between the elder palaces and those +built “within this last hundred years; which all have their +fronts of white marble brought from Istria, a hundred miles +away, and besides, many a large piece of porphyry and serpentine +upon their fronts.”</p> + +<p>On the opposite page I have given two of the ornaments of +the palaces which so struck the French ambassador.<a name="FnAnchor_17" href="#Footnote_17"><span class="sp">17</span></a> He was +right in his notice of the distinction. There had indeed come +a change over Venetian architecture in the fifteenth century; +and a change of some importance to us moderns: we English +owe to it our St. Paul’s Cathedral, and Europe in general owes +to it the utter degradation or destruction of her schools of architecture, +never since revived. But that the reader may understand +this, it is necessary that he should have some general idea +of the connexion of the architecture of Venice with that of the +rest of Europe, from its origin forwards.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII</span>. All European architecture, bad and good, old and +new, is derived from Greece through Rome, and colored and +perfected from the East. The history of architecture is nothing +but the tracing of the various modes and directions of this derivation. +Understand this, once for all: if you hold fast this +great connecting clue, you may string all the types of successive +architectural invention upon it like so many beads. The Doric +and the Corinthian orders are the roots, the one of all Romanesque, +massy-capitaled buildings—Norman, Lombard, Byzantine, +and what else you can name of the kind; and the Corinthian +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page014"></a>14</span> +of all Gothic, Early English, French, German, and Tuscan. +Now observe: those old Greeks gave the shaft; Rome gave +the arch; the Arabs pointed and foliated the arch. The shaft +and arch, the frame-work and strength of architecture, are from +the race of Japheth: the spirituality and sanctity of it from +Ismael, Abraham, and Shem.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII</span>. There is high probability that the Greek received +his shaft system from Egypt; but I do not care to keep this +earlier derivation in the mind of the reader. It is only necessary +that he should be able to refer to a fixed point of origin, +when the form of the shaft was first perfected. But it may be +incidentally observed, that if the Greeks did indeed receive +their Doric from Egypt, then the three families of the earth +have each contributed their part to its noblest architecture: +and Ham, the servant of the others, furnishes the sustaining or +bearing member, the shaft; Japheth the arch; Shem the +spiritualisation of both.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIX</span>. I have said that the two orders, Doric and Corinthian, +are the roots of all European architecture. You have, perhaps, +heard of five orders; but there are only two real orders, and +there never can be any more until doomsday. On one of these +orders the ornament is convex: those are Doric, Norman, and +what else you recollect of the kind. On the other the ornament +is concave: those are Corinthian, Early English, Decorated, +and what else you recollect of that kind. The transitional +form, in which the ornamental line is straight, is the centre or +root of both. All other orders are varieties of those, or phantasms +and grotesques altogether indefinite in number and species.<a name="FnAnchor_18" href="#Footnote_18"><span class="sp">18</span></a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XX</span>. This Greek architecture, then, with its two orders, +was clumsily copied and varied by the Romans with no particular +result, until they begun to bring the arch into extensive +practical service; except only that the Doric capital was spoiled +in endeavors to mend it, and the Corinthian much varied and +enriched with fanciful, and often very beautiful imagery. +And in this state of things came Christianity: seized upon the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page015"></a>15</span> +arch as her own; decorated it, and delighted in it; invented +a new Doric capital to replace the spoiled Roman one: and all +over the Roman empire set to work, with such materials as +were nearest at hand, to express and adorn herself as best she +could. This Roman Christian architecture is the exact expression +of the Christianity of the time, very fervid and beautiful—but +very imperfect; in many respects ignorant, and yet +radiant with a strong, childlike light of imagination, which +flames up under Constantine, illumines all the shores of the +Bosphorus and the Ægean and the Adriatic Sea, and then +gradually, as the people give themselves up to idolatry, becomes +Corpse-light. The architecture sinks into a settled form—a +strange, gilded, and embalmed repose: it, with the religion it +expressed; and so would have remained for ever,—so <i>does</i> +remain, where its languor has been undisturbed.<a name="FnAnchor_19" href="#Footnote_19"><span class="sp">19</span></a> But rough +wakening was ordained for it.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXI</span>. This Christian art of the declining empire is divided +into two great branches, western and eastern; one centred at +Rome, the other at Byzantium, of which the one is the early +Christian Romanesque, properly so called, and the other, carried +to higher imaginative perfection by Greek workmen, is +distinguished from it as Byzantine. But I wish the reader, for +the present, to class these two branches of art together in his +mind, they being, in points of main importance, the same; +that is to say, both of them a true continuance and sequence +of the art of old Rome itself, flowing uninterruptedly down +from the fountain-head, and entrusted always to the best workmen +who could be found—Latins in Italy and Greeks in Greece; +and thus both branches may be ranged under the general term +of Christian Romanesque, an architecture which had lost the +refinement of Pagan art in the degradation of the empire, but +which was elevated by Christianity to higher aims, and by the +fancy of the Greek workmen endowed with brighter forms. +And this art the reader may conceive as extending in its various +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page016"></a>16</span> +branches over all the central provinces of the empire, taking +aspects more or less refined, according to its proximity to the +seats of government; dependent for all its power on the vigor +and freshness of the religion which animated it; and as that +vigor and purity departed, losing its own vitality, and sinking +into nerveless rest, not deprived of its beauty, but benumbed +and incapable of advance or change.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXII</span>. Meantime there had been preparation for its renewal. +While in Rome and Constantinople, and in the districts under +their immediate influence, this Roman art of pure descent was +practised in all its refinement, an impure form of it—a patois +of Romanesque—was carried by inferior workmen into distant +provinces; and still ruder imitations of this patois were executed +by the barbarous nations on the skirts of the empire. +But these barbarous nations were in the strength of their youth; +and while, in the centre of Europe, a refined and purely descended +art was sinking into graceful formalism, on its confines +a barbarous and borrowed art was organising itself into strength +and consistency. The reader must therefore consider the history +of the work of the period as broadly divided into two +great heads: the one embracing the elaborately languid succession +of the Christian art of Rome; and the other, the imitations +of it executed by nations in every conceivable phase of +early organisation, on the edges of the empire, or included in +its now merely nominal extent.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIII</span>. Some of the barbaric nations were, of course, not +susceptible of this influence; and when they burst over the +Alps, appear, like the Huns, as scourges only, or mix, as the +Ostrogoths, with the enervated Italians, and give physical +strength to the mass with which they mingle, without materially +affecting its intellectual character. But others, both south +and north of the empire, had felt its influence, back to the +beach of the Indian Ocean on the one hand, and to the ice +creeks of the North Sea on the other. On the north and west +the influence was of the Latins; on the south and east, of the +Greeks. Two nations, pre-eminent above all the rest, represent +to us the force of derived mind on either side. As the central +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page017"></a>17</span> +power is eclipsed, the orbs of reflected light gather into their +fulness; and when sensuality and idolatry had done their +work, and the religion of the empire was laid asleep in a glittering +sepulchre, the living light rose upon both horizons, and +the fierce swords of the Lombard and Arab were shaken over its +golden paralysis.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIV</span>. The work of the Lombard was to give hardihood +and system to the enervated body and enfeebled mind of Christendom; +that of the Arab was to punish idolatry, and to proclaim +the spirituality of worship. The Lombard covered every +church which he built with the sculptured representations +of bodily exercises—hunting and war.<a name="FnAnchor_20" href="#Footnote_20"><span class="sp">20</span></a> The Arab banished +all imagination of creature form from his temples, and proclaimed +from their minarets, “There is no god but God.” Opposite +in their character and mission, alike in their magnificence +of energy, they came from the North and from the South, the +glacier torrent and the lava stream: they met and contended +over the wreck of the Roman empire; and the very centre of +the struggle, the point of pause of both, the dead water of the +opposite eddies, charged with embayed fragments of the Roman +wreck, is <span class="sc">Venice</span>.</p> + +<p>The Ducal palace of Venice contains the three elements in +exactly equal proportions—the Roman, Lombard, and Arab. +It is the central building of the world.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXV</span>. The reader will now begin to understand something +of the importance of the study of the edifices of a city which +includes, within the circuit of some seven or eight miles, the +field of contest between the three pre-eminent architectures of +the world:—each architecture expressing a condition of religion; +each an erroneous condition, yet necessary to the correction of +the others, and corrected by them.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVI</span>. It will be part of my endeavor, in the following work, +to mark the various modes in which the northern and southern +architectures were developed from the Roman: here I must +pause only to name the distinguishing characteristics of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page018"></a>18</span> +great families. The Christian Roman and Byzantine work is +round-arched, with single and well-proportioned shafts; capitals +imitated from classical Roman; mouldings more or less so; and +large surfaces of walls entirely covered with imagery, mosaic, +and paintings, whether of scripture history or of sacred symbols.</p> + +<p>The Arab school is at first the same in its principal features, +the Byzantine workmen being employed by the caliphs; but +the Arab rapidly introduces characters half Persepolitan, half +Egyptian, into the shafts and capitals: in his intense love of +excitement he points the arch and writhes it into extravagant +foliations; he banishes the animal imagery, and invents an ornamentation +of his own (called Arabesque) to replace it: this not +being adapted for covering large surfaces, he concentrates it on +features of interest, and bars his surfaces with horizontal lines +of color, the expression of the level of the Desert. He retains +the dome, and adds the minaret. All is done with exquisite +refinement.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVII</span>. The changes effected by the Lombard are more +curious still, for they are in the anatomy of the building, more +than its decoration. The Lombard architecture represents, as +I said, the whole of that of the northern barbaric nations. And +this I believe was, at first, an imitation in wood of the Christian +Roman churches or basilicas. Without staying to examine the +whole structure of a basilica, the reader will easily understand +thus much of it: that it had a nave and two aisles, the nave +much higher than the aisles; that the nave was separated from +the aisles by rows of shafts, which supported, above, large spaces +of flat or dead wall, rising above the aisles, and forming the +upper part of the nave, now called the clerestory, which had a +gabled wooden roof.</p> + +<p>These high dead walls were, in Roman work, built of stone; +but in the wooden work of the North, they must necessarily +have been made of horizontal boards or timbers attached to +uprights on the top of the nave pillars, which were themselves +also of wood.<a name="FnAnchor_21" href="#Footnote_21"><span class="sp">21</span></a> Now, these uprights were necessarily thicker +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page019"></a>19</span> +than the rest of the timbers, and formed vertical square pilasters +above the nave piers. As Christianity extended and civilisation +increased, these wooden structures were changed into +stone; but they were literally petrified, retaining the form +which had been made necessary by their being of wood. The +upright pilaster above the nave pier remains in the stone edifice, +and is the first form of the great distinctive feature of Northern +architecture—the vaulting shaft. In that form the Lombards +brought it into Italy, in the seventh century, and it remains to +this day in St. Ambrogio of Milan, and St. Michele of Pavia.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVIII</span>. When the vaulting shaft was introduced in the +clerestory walls, additional members were added for its support +to the nave piers. Perhaps two or three pine trunks, used for +a single pillar, gave the first idea of the grouped shaft. Be +that as it may, the arrangement of the nave pier in the form of +a cross accompanies the superimposition of the vaulting shaft; +together with corresponding grouping of minor shafts in doorways +and apertures of windows. Thus, the whole body of the +Northern architecture, represented by that of the Lombards, +may be described as rough but majestic work, round-arched, +with grouped shafts, added vaulting shafts, and endless imagery +of active life and fantastic superstitions.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIX</span>. The glacier stream of the Lombards, and the following +one of the Normans, left their erratic blocks, wherever +they had flowed; but without influencing, I think, the Southern +nations beyond the sphere of their own presence. But the +lava stream of the Arab, even after it ceased to flow, warmed +the whole of the Northern air; and the history of Gothic architecture +is the history of the refinement and spiritualisation of +Northern work under its influence. The noblest buildings of +the world, the Pisan-Romanesque, Tuscan (Giottesque) Gothic, +and Veronese Gothic, are those of the Lombard schools themselves, +under its close and direct influence; the various Gothics +of the North are the original forms of the architecture which +the Lombards brought into Italy, changing under the less direct +influence of the Arab.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXX</span>. Understanding thus much of the formation of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page020"></a>20</span> +great European styles, we shall have no difficulty in tracing the +succession of architectures in Venice herself. From what I +said of the central character of Venetian art, the reader is not, +of course, to conclude that the Roman, Northern, and Arabian +elements met together and contended for the mastery at the +same period. The earliest element was the pure Christian +Roman; but few, if any, remains of this art exist at Venice; +for the present city was in the earliest times only one of many +settlements formed on the chain of marshy islands which extend +from the mouths of the Isonzo to those of the Adige, and it +was not until the beginning of the ninth century that it became +the seat of government; while the cathedral of Torcello, though +Christian Roman in general form, was rebuilt in the eleventh +century, and shows evidence of Byzantine workmanship in +many of its details. This cathedral, however, with the church +of Santa Fosca at Torcello, San Giacomo di Rialto at Venice, +and the crypt of St. Mark’s, forms a distinct group of buildings, +in which the Byzantine influence is exceedingly slight; and +which is probably very sufficiently representative of the earliest +architecture on the islands.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXI</span>. The Ducal residence was removed to Venice in 809, +and the body of St. Mark was brought from Alexandria twenty +years later. The first church of St. Mark’s was, doubtless, +built in imitation of that destroyed at Alexandria, and from +which the relics of the saint had been obtained. During the +ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries, the architecture of Venice +seems to have been formed on the same model, and is almost +identical with that of Cairo under the caliphs,<a name="FnAnchor_22" href="#Footnote_22"><span class="sp">22</span></a> it being quite +immaterial whether the reader chooses to call both Byzantine +or both Arabic; the workmen being certainly Byzantine, but +forced to the invention of new forms by their Arabian masters, +and bringing these forms into use in whatever other parts of +the world they were employed.</p> + +<p>To this first manner of Venetian architecture, together with +vestiges as remain of the Christian Roman, I shall devote +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page021"></a>21</span> +the first division of the following inquiry. The examples remaining +of it consist of three noble churches (those of Torcello, +Murano, and the greater part of St. Mark’s), and about ten or +twelve fragments of palaces.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXII</span>. To this style succeeds a transitional one, of a character +much more distinctly Arabian: the shafts become more +slender, and the arches consistently pointed, instead of round; +certain other changes, not to be enumerated in a sentence, taking +place in the capitals and mouldings. This style is almost +exclusively secular. It was natural for the Venetians to imitate +the beautiful details of the Arabian dwelling-house, while +they would with reluctance adopt those of the mosque for +Christian churches.</p> + +<p>I have not succeeded in fixing limiting dates for this style. +It appears in part contemporary with the Byzantine manner, +but outlives it. Its position is, however, fixed by the central +date, 1180, that of the elevation of the granite shafts of the +Piazetta, whose capitals are the two most important pieces of +detail in this transitional style in Venice. Examples of its application +to domestic buildings exist in almost every street of +the city, and will form the subject of the second division of the +following essay.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXIII</span>. The Venetians were always ready to receive lessons +in art from their enemies (else had there been no Arab +work in Venice). But their especial dread and hatred of the +Lombards appears to have long prevented them from receiving +the influence of the art which that people had introduced on +the mainland of Italy. Nevertheless, during the practice of +the two styles above distinguished, a peculiar and very primitive +condition of pointed Gothic had arisen in ecclesiastical +architecture. It appears to be a feeble reflection of the Lombard-Arab +forms, which were attaining perfection upon the continent, +and would probably, if left to itself, have been soon +merged in the Venetian-Arab school, with which it had from +the first so close a fellowship, that it will be found difficult to +distinguish the Arabian ogives from those which seem to have +been built under this early Gothic influence. The churches of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page022"></a>22</span> +San Giacopo dell’Orio, San Giovanni in Bragora, the Carmine, +and one or two more, furnish the only important examples +of it. But, in the thirteenth century, the Franciscans and +Dominicans introduced from the continent their morality and +their architecture, already a distinct Gothic, curiously developed +from Lombardic and Northern (German?) forms; and the influence +of the principles exhibited in the vast churches of St. +Paul and the Frari began rapidly to affect the Venetian-Arab +school. Still the two systems never became united; the Venetian +policy repressed the power of the church, and the Venetian +artists resisted its example; and thenceforward the architecture +of the city becomes divided into ecclesiastical and civil: the one +an ungraceful yet powerful form of the Western Gothic, common +to the whole peninsula, and only showing Venetian sympathies +in the adoption of certain characteristic mouldings; the +other a rich, luxuriant, and entirely original Gothic, formed +from the Venetian-Arab by the influence of the Dominican and +Franciscan architecture, and especially by the engrafting upon +the Arab forms of the most novel feature of the Franciscan +work, its traceries. These various forms of Gothic, the <i>distinctive</i> +architecture of Venice, chiefly represented by the churches +of St. John and Paul, the Frari, and San Stefano, on the ecclesiastical +side, and by the Ducal palace, and the other principal +Gothic palaces, on the secular side, will be the subject of the +third division of the essay.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXIV</span>. Now observe. The transitional (or especially +Arabic) style of the Venetian work is centralised by the date +1180, and is transformed gradually into the Gothic, which extends +in its purity from the middle of the thirteenth to the beginning +of the fifteenth century; that is to say, over the precise +period which I have described as the central epoch of the +life of Venice. I dated her decline from the year 1418; Foscari +became doge five years later, and in his reign the first +marked signs appear in architecture of that mighty change +which Philippe de Commynes notices as above, the change to +which London owes St. Paul’s, Rome St. Peter’s, Venice and +Vicenza the edifices commonly supposed to be their noblest, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page023"></a>23</span> +and Europe in general the degradation of every art she has +since practised.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXV</span>. This change appears first in a loss of truth and +vitality in existing architecture all over the world. (Compare +“Seven Lamps,” chap. ii.) All the Gothics in existence, southern +or northern, were corrupted at once: the German and +French lost themselves in every species of extravagance; the +English Gothic was confined, in its insanity, by a strait-waistcoat +of perpendicular lines; the Italian effloresced on the mainland +into the meaningless ornamentation of the Certosa of Pavia +and the Cathedral of Como (a style sometimes ignorantly called +Italian Gothic), and at Venice into the insipid confusion of the +Porta della Carta and wild crockets of St. Mark’s. This corruption +of all architecture, especially ecclesiastical, corresponded +with, and marked the state of religion over all Europe,—the +peculiar degradation of the Romanist superstition, and of public +morality in consequence, which brought about the Reformation.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXVI</span>. Against the corrupted papacy arose two great +divisions of adversaries, Protestants in Germany and England, +Rationalists in France and Italy; the one requiring the purification +of religion, the other its destruction. The Protestant +kept the religion, but cast aside the heresies of Rome, and with +them her arts, by which last rejection he injured his own character, +cramped his intellect in refusing to it one of its noblest +exercises, and materially diminished his influence. It may be a +serious question how far the Pausing of the Reformation has +been a consequence of this error.</p> + +<p>The Rationalist kept the arts and cast aside the religion. +This rationalistic art is the art commonly called Renaissance, +marked by a return to pagan systems, not to adopt them and +hallow them for Christianity, but to rank itself under them as +an imitator and pupil. In Painting it is headed by Giulio +Romano and Nicolo Poussin; in Architecture by Sansovino +and Palladio.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXVII</span>. Instant degradation followed in every direction,—a +flood of folly and hypocrisy. Mythologies ill understood at +first, then perverted into feeble sensualities, take the place of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page024"></a>24</span> +the representations of Christian subjects, which had become +blasphemous under the treatment of men like the Caracci. +Gods without power, satyrs without rusticity, nymphs without +innocence, men without humanity, gather into idiot groups upon +the polluted canvas, and scenic affectations encumber the streets +with preposterous marble. Lower and lower declines the level +of abused intellect; the base school of landscape<a name="FnAnchor_23" href="#Footnote_23"><span class="sp">23</span></a> gradually +usurps the place of the historical painting, which had sunk into +prurient pedantry,—the Alsatian sublimities of Salvator, the +confectionery idealities of Claude, the dull manufacture of +Gaspar and Canaletto, south of the Alps, and on the north the +patient devotion of besotted lives to delineation of bricks and +fogs, fat cattle and ditchwater. And thus Christianity and +morality, courage, and intellect, and art all crumbling together +into one wreck, we are hurried on to the fall of Italy, the revolution +in France, and the condition of art in England (saved by +her Protestantism from severer penalty) in the time of George +II.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXVIII</span>. I have not written in vain if I have heretofore +done anything towards diminishing the reputation of the Renaissance +landscape painting. But the harm which has been +done by Claude and the Poussins is as nothing when compared +to the mischief effected by Palladio, Scamozzi, and Sansovino. +Claude and the Poussins were weak men, and have had no +serious influence on the general mind. There is little harm in +their works being purchased at high prices: their real influence +is very slight, and they may be left without grave indignation +to their poor mission of furnishing drawing-rooms and assisting +stranded conversation. Not so the Renaissance architecture. +Raised at once into all the magnificence of which it was capable +by Michael Angelo, then taken up by men of real intellect and +imagination, such as Scamozzi, Sansovino, Inigo Jones, and +Wren, it is impossible to estimate the extent of its influence on +the European mind; and that the more, because few persons +are concerned with painting, and, of those few, the larger number +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page025"></a>25</span> +regard it with slight attention; but all men are concerned +with architecture, and have at some time of their lives serious +business with it. It does not much matter that an individual +loses two or three hundred pounds in buying a bad picture, but +it is to be regretted that a nation should lose two or three hundred +thousand in raising a ridiculous building. Nor is it +merely wasted wealth or distempered conception which we have +to regret in this Renaissance architecture: but we shall find in +it partly the root, partly the expression, of certain dominant +evils of modern times—over-sophistication and ignorant classicalism; +the one destroying the healthfulness of general society, +the other rendering our schools and universities useless to +a large number of the men who pass through them.</p> + +<p>Now Venice, as she was once the most religious, was in her +fall the most corrupt, of European states; and as she was in her +strength the centre of the pure currents of Christian architecture, +so she is in her decline the source of the Renaissance. +It was the originality and splendor of the palaces of Vicenza +and Venice which gave this school its eminence in the eyes of +Europe; and the dying city, magnificent in her dissipation, and +graceful in her follies, obtained wider worship in her decrepitude +than in her youth, and sank from the midst of her admirers +into the grave.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXIX</span>. It is in Venice, therefore, and in Venice only that +effectual blows can be struck at this pestilent art of the Renaissance. +Destroy its claims to admiration there, and it can assert +them nowhere else. This, therefore, will be the final purpose +of the following essay. I shall not devote a fourth section to +Palladio, nor weary the reader with successive chapters of vituperation; +but I shall, in my account of the earlier architecture, +compare the forms of all its leading features with those into +which they were corrupted by the Classicalists; and pause, in +the close, on the edge of the precipice of decline, so soon as +I have made its depths discernible. In doing this I shall depend +upon two distinct kinds of evidence:—the first, the testimony +borne by particular incidents and facts to a want of +thought or of feeling in the builders; from which we may conclude +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page026"></a>26</span> +that their architecture must be bad:—the second, the +sense, which I doubt not I shall be able to excite in the reader, +of a systematic ugliness in the architecture itself. Of the first +kind of testimony I shall here give two instances, which may +be immediately useful in fixing in the readers mind the epoch +above indicated for the commencement of decline.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XL</span>. I must again refer to the importance which I have +above attached to the death of Carlo Zeno and the doge Tomaso +Mocenigo. The tomb of that doge is, as I said, wrought by a +Florentine; but it is of the same general type and feeling as all +the Venetian tombs of the period, and it is one of the last +which retains it. The classical element enters largely into its +details, but the feeling of the whole is as yet unaffected. Like +all the lovely tombs of Venice and Verona, it is a sarcophagus +with a recumbent figure above, and this figure is a faithful but +tender portrait, wrought as far as it can be without painfulness, +of the doge as he lay in death. He wears his ducal robe and +bonnet—his head is laid slightly aside upon his pillow—his +hands are simply crossed as they fall. The face is emaciated, +the features large, but so pure and lordly in their natural +chiselling, that they must have looked like marble even in their +animation. They are deeply worn away by thought and +death; the veins on the temples branched and starting; the skin +gathered in sharp folds; the brow high-arched and shaggy; the +eye-ball magnificently large; the curve of the lips just veiled +by the light mustache at the side; the beard short, double, and +sharp-pointed: all noble and quiet; the white sepulchral dust +marking like light the stern angles of the cheek and brow.</p> + +<p>This tomb was sculptured in 1424, and is thus described by +one of the most intelligent of the recent writers who represent +the popular feeling respecting Venetian art.</p> + +<p class="quote">“Of the Italian school is also the rich but ugly (ricco ma non bel) sarcophagus +in which repose the ashes of Tomaso Mocenigo. It may be called +one of the last links which connect the declining art of the Middle Ages +with that of the Renaissance, which was in its rise. We will not stay to +particularise the defects of each of the seven figures of the front and sides, +which represent the cardinal and theological virtues; nor will we make any +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page027"></a>27</span> +remarks upon those which stand in the niches above the pavilion, because +we consider them unworthy both of the age and reputation of the Florentine +school, which was then with reason considered the most notable in +Italy.”<a name="FnAnchor_24" href="#Footnote_24"><span class="sp">24</span></a></p> + +<p>It is well, indeed, not to pause over these defects; but it +might have been better to have paused a moment beside that +noble image of a king’s mortality.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLI</span>. In the choir of the same church, St. Giov. and +Paolo, is another tomb, that of the Doge Andrea Vendramin. +This doge died in 1478, after a short reign of two years, the +most disastrous in the annals of Venice. He died of a pestilence +which followed the ravage of the Turks, carried to the +shores of the lagoons. He died, leaving Venice disgraced by +sea and land, with the smoke of hostile devastation rising in +the blue distances of Friuli; and there was raised to him the +most costly tomb ever bestowed on her monarchs.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLII</span>. If the writer above quoted was cold beside the statue +of one of the fathers of his country, he atones for it by his eloquence +beside the tomb of the Vendramin. I must not spoil +the force of Italian superlative by translation.</p> + +<p class="quote">“Quando si guarda a quella corretta eleganza di profili e di proporzioni, +a quella squisitezza d’ornamenti, a quel certo sapore antico che senza ombra +d’imitazione traspare da tutta l’opera”—&c. “Sopra ornatissimo zoccolo fornito +di squisiti intagli s’alza uno stylobate”—&c. “Sotto le colonne, il predetto +stilobate si muta leggiadramente in piedistallo, poi con bella novità di +pensiero e di effetto va coronato da un fregio il più gentile che veder si +possa”—&c. “Non puossi lasciar senza un cenno l’<i>arca dove</i> sta chiuso il +doge; capo lavoro di pensiero e di esecuzione,” &c.</p> + +<p>There are two pages and a half of closely printed praise, of +which the above specimens may suffice; but there is not a +word of the statue of the dead from beginning to end. I am +myself in the habit of considering this rather an important part +of a tomb, and I was especially interested in it here, because +Selvatico only echoes the praise of thousands. It is unanimously +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page028"></a>28</span> +declared the chef d’œuvre of Renaissance sepulchral +work, and pronounced by Cicognara (also quoted by Selvatico)</p> + +<p class="quote">“Il vertice a cui l’arti Veneziane si spinsero col ministero del scalpello,"—"The +very culminating point to which the Venetian arts attained by ministry +of the chisel.”</p> + +<p>To this culminating point, therefore, covered with dust and +cobwebs, I attained, as I did to every tomb of importance in +Venice, by the ministry of such ancient ladders as were to be +found in the sacristan’s keeping. I was struck at first by the +excessive awkwardness and want of feeling in the fall of the +hand towards the spectator, for it is thrown off the middle of +the body in order to show its fine cutting. Now the Mocenigo +hand, severe and even stiff in its articulations, has its +veins finely drawn, its sculptor having justly felt that the delicacy +of the veining expresses alike dignity and age and birth. +The Vendramin hand is far more laboriously cut, but its blunt +and clumsy contour at once makes us feel that all the care has +been thrown away, and well it may be, for it has been entirely +bestowed in cutting gouty wrinkles about the joints. Such as +the hand is, I looked for its fellow. At first I thought it had +been broken off, but, on clearing away the dust, I saw the +wretched effigy had only <i>one</i> hand, and was a mere block on +the inner side. The face, heavy and disagreeable in its features, +is made monstrous by its semi-sculpture. One side of +the forehead is wrinkled elaborately, the other left smooth; +one side only of the doge’s cap is chased; one cheek only is +finished, and the other blocked out and distorted besides; +finally, the ermine robe, which is elaborately imitated to its utmost +lock of hair and of ground hair on the one side, is blocked +out only on the other: it having been supposed throughout the +work that the effigy was only to be seen from below, and from +one side.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLIII</span>. It was indeed to be so seen by nearly every one; and +I do not blame—I should, on the contrary, have praised—the +sculptor for regulating his treatment of it by its position; if +that treatment had not involved, first, dishonesty, in giving +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page029"></a>29</span> +only half a face, a monstrous mask, when we demanded true +portraiture of the dead; and, secondly, such utter coldness of +feeling, as could only consist with an extreme of intellectual +and moral degradation: Who, with a heart in his breast, could +have stayed his hand as he drew the dim lines of the old man’s +countenance—unmajestic once, indeed, but at least sanctified by +the solemnities of death—could have stayed his hand, as he +reached the bend of the grey forehead, and measured out the +last veins of it at so much the zecchin?</p> + +<p>I do not think the reader, if he has feeling, will expect +that much talent should be shown in the rest of his work, by +the sculptor of this base and senseless lie. The whole monument +is one wearisome aggregation of that species of ornamental +flourish, which, when it is done with a pen, is called penmanship, +and when done with a chisel, should be called chiselmanship; +the subject of it being chiefly fat-limbed boys +sprawling on dolphins, dolphins incapable of swimming, and +dragged along the sea by expanded pocket-handkerchiefs.</p> + +<p>But now, reader, comes the very gist and point of the +whole matter. This lying monument to a dishonored doge, +this culminating pride of the Renaissance art of Venice, is at +least veracious, if in nothing else, in its testimony to the character +of its sculptor. <i>He was banished from Venice for forgery</i> +in 1487.<a name="FnAnchor_25" href="#Footnote_25"><span class="sp">25</span></a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLIV</span>. I have more to say about this convict’s work hereafter; +but I pass at present, to the second, slighter, but yet +more interesting piece of evidence, which I promised.</p> + +<p>The ducal palace has two principal façades; one towards +the sea, the other towards the Piazzetta. The seaward side, and, +as far as the seventh main arch inclusive, the Piazzetta side, is +work of the early part of the fourteenth century, some of it +perhaps even earlier; while the rest of the Piazzetta side is of +the fifteenth. The difference in age has been gravely disputed +by the Venetian antiquaries, who have examined many documents +on the subject, and quoted some which they never examined. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page030"></a>30</span> +I have myself collated most of the written documents, +and one document more, to which the Venetian antiquaries +never thought of referring,—the masonry of the palace itself.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLV</span>. That masonry changes at the centre of the eighth +arch from the sea angle on the Piazzetta side. It has been of +comparatively small stones up to that point; the fifteenth century +work instantly begins with larger stones, “brought from +Istria, a hundred miles away.”<a name="FnAnchor_26" href="#Footnote_26"><span class="sp">26</span></a> The ninth shaft from the sea +in the lower arcade, and the seventeenth, which is above it, in +the upper arcade, commence the series of fifteenth century +shafts. These two are somewhat thicker than the others, and +carry the party-wall of the Sala del Scrutinio. Now observe, +reader. The face of the palace, from this point to the Porta +della Carta, was built at the instance of that noble Doge Mocenigo +beside whose tomb you have been standing; at his +instance, and in the beginning of the reign of his successor, +Foscari; that is to say, circa 1424. This is not disputed; it is +only disputed that the sea façade is earlier; of which, however, +the proofs are as simple as they are incontrovertible: for not +only the masonry, but the sculpture, changes at the ninth lower +shaft, and that in the capitals of the shafts both of the upper +and lower arcade: the costumes of the figures introduced in +the sea façade being purely Giottesque, correspondent with +Giotto’s work in the Arena Chapel at Padua, while the costume +on the other capitals is Renaissance-Classic: and the lions’ +heads between the arches change at the same point. And there +are a multitude of other evidences in the statues of the angels, +with which I shall not at present trouble the reader.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLVI</span>. Now, the architect who built under Foscari, in 1424 +(remember my date for the decline of Venice, 1418), was +obliged to follow the principal forms of the older palace. But +he had not the wit to invent new capitals in the same style; he +therefore clumsily copied the old ones. The palace has seventeen +main arches on the sea façade, eighteen on the Piazzetta +side, which in all are of course carried by thirty-six pillars; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page031"></a>31</span> +and these pillars I shall always number from right to left, from +the angle of the palace at the Ponte della Paglia to that next +the Porta della Carta. I number them in this succession, because +I thus have the earliest shafts first numbered. So +counted, the 1st, the 18th, and the 36th, are the great supports +of the angles of the palace; and the first of the fifteenth century +series, being, as above stated, the 9th from the sea on the +Piazzetta side, is the 26th of the entire series, and will always +in future be so numbered, so that all numbers above twenty-six +indicate fifteenth century work, and all below it, fourteenth +century, with some exceptional cases of restoration.</p> + +<p>Then the copied capitals are: the 28th, copied from the +7th; the 29th, from the 9th; the 30th, from the 10th; the +31st, from the 8th; the <span class="correction" title="originally 33d">33rd</span>, from the 12th; and the 34th, +from the 11th; the others being dull inventions of the 15th +century, except the 36th, which is very nobly designed.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLVII</span>. The capitals thus selected from the earlier portion +of the palace for imitation, together with the rest, will be accurately +described hereafter; the point I have here to notice is +in the copy of the ninth capital, which was decorated (being, +like the rest, octagonal) with figures of the eight Virtues:—Faith, +Hope, Charity, Justice, Temperance, Prudence, Humility +(the Venetian antiquaries call it Humanity!), and Fortitude. +The Virtues of the fourteenth century are somewhat +hard-featured; with vivid and living expression, and plain +every-day clothes of the time. Charity has her lap full of +apples (perhaps loaves), and is giving one to a little child, who +stretches his arm for it across a gap in the leafage of the capital. +Fortitude tears open a lion’s jaws; Faith lays her hand +on her breast, as she beholds the Cross; and Hope is praying, +while above her a hand is seen emerging from sunbeams—the +hand of God (according to that of Revelations, “The Lord God +giveth them light”); and the inscription above is, “Spes optima +in Deo.”</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLVIII</span>. This design, then, is, rudely and with imperfect +chiselling, imitated by the fifteenth century workmen: the +Virtues have lost their hard features and living expression; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page032"></a>32</span> +they have now all got Roman noses, and have had their hair +curled. Their actions and emblems are, however, preserved +until we come to Hope: she is still praying, but she is praying +to the sun only: <i>The hand of God is gone.</i></p> + +<p>Is not this a curious and striking type of the spirit which +had then become dominant in the world, forgetting to see +God’s hand in the light He gave; so that in the issue, when +that light opened into the Reformation, on the one side, and +into full knowledge of ancient literature on the other, the one +was arrested and the other perverted?</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLIX</span>. Such is the nature of the accidental evidence on +which I shall depend for the proof of the inferiority of character +in the Renaissance workmen. But the proof of the inferiority +of the work itself is not so easy, for in this I have to +appeal to judgments which the Renaissance work has itself distorted. +I felt this difficulty very forcibly as I read a slight review +of my former work, “The Seven Lamps,” in “The +Architect:” the writer noticed my constant praise of St. +Mark’s: “Mr. Ruskin thinks it a very beautiful building! +We,” said the Architect, “think it a very ugly building.” I +was not surprised at the difference of opinion, but at the thing +being considered so completely a subject of opinion. My opponents +in matters of painting always assume that there <i>is</i> +such a thing as a law of right, and that I do not understand it: +but my architectural adversaries appeal to no law, they simply +set their opinion against mine; and indeed there is no law at +present to which either they or I can appeal. No man can +speak with rational decision of the merits or demerits of buildings: +he may with obstinacy; he may with resolved adherence +to previous prejudices; but never as if the matter could be +otherwise decided than by a majority of votes, or pertinacity of +partizanship. I had always, however, a clear conviction that +there <i>was</i> a law in this matter: that good architecture might +be indisputably discerned and divided from the bad; that the +opposition in their very nature and essence was clearly visible; +and that we were all of us just as unwise in disputing about +the matter without reference to principle, as we should be for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page033"></a>33</span> +debating about the genuineness of a coin, without ringing it. +I felt also assured that this law must be universal if it were +conclusive; that it must enable us to reject all foolish and base +work, and to accept all noble and wise work, without reference +to style or national feeling; that it must sanction the design of +all truly great nations and times, Gothic or Greek or Arab; +that it must cast off and reprobate the design of all foolish +nations and times, Chinese or Mexican, or modern European: +and that it must be easily applicable to all possible architectural +inventions of human mind. I set myself, therefore, to +establish such a law, in full belief that men are intended, without +excessive difficulty, and by use of their general common +sense, to know good things from bad; and that it is only because +they will not be at the pains required for the discernment, +that the world is so widely encumbered with forgeries +and basenesses. I found the work simpler than I had hoped; +the reasonable things ranged themselves in the order I required, +and the foolish things fell aside, and took themselves +away so soon as they were looked in the face. I had then, +with respect to Venetian architecture, the choice, either to establish +each division of law in a separate form, as I came to the +features with which it was concerned, or else to ask the reader’s +patience, while I followed out the general inquiry first, +and determined with him a code of right and wrong, to which +we might together make retrospective appeal. I thought this +the best, though perhaps the dullest way; and in these first +following pages I have therefore endeavored to arrange those +foundations of criticism, on which I shall rest in my account of +Venetian architecture, in a form clear and simple enough to be +intelligible even to those who never thought of architecture +before. To those who have, much of what is stated in them +will be well known or self-evident; but they must not be indignant +at a simplicity on which the whole argument depends +for its usefulness. From that which appears a mere truism +when first stated, they will find very singular consequences +sometimes following,—consequences altogether unexpected, +and of considerable importance; I will not pause here to dwell +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page034"></a>34</span> +on their importance, nor on that of the thing itself to be done; +for I believe most readers will at once admit the value of a +criterion of right and wrong in so practical and costly an art as +architecture, and will be apt rather to doubt the possibility of +its attainment than dispute its usefulness if attained. I invite +them, therefore, to a fair trial, being certain that even if I +should fail in my main purpose, and be unable to induce in my +reader the confidence of judgment I desire, I shall at least receive +his thanks for the suggestion of consistent reasons, which +may determine hesitating choice, or justify involuntary preference. +And if I should succeed, as I hope, in making the +Stones of Venice touchstones, and detecting, by the mouldering +of her marble, poison more subtle than ever was betrayed +by the rending of her crystal; and if thus I am enabled to +show the baseness of the schools of architecture and nearly +every other art, which have for three centuries been predominant +in Europe, I believe the result of the inquiry may be serviceable +for proof of a more vital truth than any at which I +have hitherto hinted. For observe: I said the Protestant had +despised the arts, and the Rationalist corrupted them. But +what has the Romanist done meanwhile? He boasts that it +was the papacy which raised the arts; why could it not support +them when it was left to its own strength? How came +it to yield to Classicalism which was based on infidelity, and +to oppose no barrier to innovations, which have reduced the +once faithfully conceived imagery of its worship to stage decoration? +Shall we not rather find that Romanism, instead of +being a promoter of the arts, has never shown itself capable of +a single great conception since the separation of Protestantism +from its side?<a name="FnAnchor_27" href="#Footnote_27"><span class="sp">27</span></a> So long as, corrupt though it might be, no +clear witness had been borne against it, so that it still included +in its ranks a vast number of faithful Christians, so long its arts +were noble. But the witness was borne—the error made apparent; +and Rome, refusing to hear the testimony or forsake +the falsehood, has been struck from that instant with an intellectual +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page035"></a>35</span> +palsy, which has not only incapacitated her from any +further use of the arts which once were her ministers, but has +made her worship the shame of its own shrines, and her worshippers +their destroyers. Come, then, if truths such as these +are worth our thoughts; come, and let us know, before we +enter the streets of the Sea city, whether we are indeed to submit +ourselves to their undistinguished enchantment, and to +look upon the last changes which were wrought on the lifted +forms of her palaces, as we should on the capricious towering +of summer clouds in the sunset, ere they sank into the deep of +night; or whether, rather, we shall not behold in the brightness +of their accumulated marble, pages on which the sentence +of her luxury was to be written until the waves should efface +it, as they fulfilled—“God has numbered thy kingdom, and +finished it.”</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_1" href="#FnAnchor_1"><span class="fn">1</span></a> <a href="#app_1">Appendix 1</a>, “Foundation of Venice.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_2" href="#FnAnchor_2"><span class="fn">2</span></a> <a href="#app_2">Appendix 2</a>, “Power of the Doges.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_3" href="#FnAnchor_3"><span class="fn">3</span></a> Sismondi, Hist. des Rép. Ital., vol. i. ch. v.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_4" href="#FnAnchor_4"><span class="fn">4</span></a> <a href="#app_3">Appendix 3</a>, “Serrar del Consiglio.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_5" href="#FnAnchor_5"><span class="fn">5</span></a> “Ha saputo trovar modo che non uno, non pochi, non molti, signoreggiano, +ma molti buoni, pochi migliori, e insiememente, <i>un ottimo solo</i>.” +(<i>Sansovino.</i>) Ah, well done, Venice! Wisdom this, indeed.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_6" href="#FnAnchor_6"><span class="fn">6</span></a> Daru, liv. xii. ch. xii.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_7" href="#FnAnchor_7"><span class="fn">7</span></a> Daru, liv. xvi. cap. xx. We owe to this historian the discovery of the +statutes of the tribunal and date of its establishment.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_8" href="#FnAnchor_8"><span class="fn">8</span></a> Ominously signified by their humiliation to the Papal power (as before +to the Turkish) in 1509, and their abandonment of their right of appointing +the clergy of their territories.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_9" href="#FnAnchor_9"><span class="fn">9</span></a> The senate voted the abdication of their authority by a majority of +512 to 14. (Alison, ch. xxiii.)</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_10" href="#FnAnchor_10"><span class="fn">10</span></a> By directing the arms of the Crusaders against a Christian prince. +(Daru, liv. iv. ch. iv. viii.)</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_11" href="#FnAnchor_11"><span class="fn">11</span></a> <a href="#app_4">Appendix 4</a>, “San Pietro di Castello.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_12" href="#FnAnchor_12"><span class="fn">12</span></a> Tomaso Mocenigo, above named, § <span class="scs">V</span>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_13" href="#FnAnchor_13"><span class="fn">13</span></a></p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"> + <p><span style="padding-left: 6em; ">“In that temple porch,</span></p> +<p>(The brass is gone, the porphyry remains,)</p> +<p>Did <span class="sc">Barbarossa</span> fling his mantle off,</p> +<p>And kneeling, on his neck receive the foot</p> +<p>Of the proud Pontiff—thus at last consoled</p> +<p>For flight, disguise, and many an aguish shake</p> +<p>On his stone pillow.”</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>I need hardly say whence the lines are taken: Rogers’ “Italy” has, I believe, +now a place in the best beloved compartment of all libraries, and will +never be removed from it. There is more true expression of the spirit of +Venice in the passages devoted to her in that poem, than in all else that has +been written of her.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_14" href="#FnAnchor_14"><span class="fn">14</span></a> At least, such success as they had. Vide <a href="#app_5">Appendix 5</a>, “The Papal +Power in Venice.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_15" href="#FnAnchor_15"><span class="fn">15</span></a> The inconsiderable fortifications of the arsenal are no exception to this +statement, as far as it regards the city itself. They are little more than a +semblance of precaution against the attack of a foreign enemy.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_16" href="#FnAnchor_16"><span class="fn">16</span></a> Mémoires de Commynes, liv. vii. ch. xviii.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_17" href="#FnAnchor_17"><span class="fn">17</span></a> <a href="#app_6">Appendix 6</a>, “Renaissance Ornaments.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_18" href="#FnAnchor_18"><span class="fn">18</span></a> <a href="#app_7">Appendix 7</a>, “Varieties of the Orders.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_19" href="#FnAnchor_19"><span class="fn">19</span></a> The reader will find the <i>weak</i> points of Byzantine architecture shrewdly +seized, and exquisitely sketched, in the opening chapter of the most delightful +book of travels I ever opened,—Curzon’s “Monasteries of the Levant.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_20" href="#FnAnchor_20"><span class="fn">20</span></a> <a href="#app_8">Appendix 8</a>, “The Northern Energy.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_21" href="#FnAnchor_21"><span class="fn">21</span></a> <a href="#app_9">Appendix 9</a>, “Wooden Churches of the North.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_22" href="#FnAnchor_22"><span class="fn">22</span></a> <a href="#app_10">Appendix 10</a>, “Church of Alexandria.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_23" href="#FnAnchor_23"><span class="fn">23</span></a> <a href="#app_11">Appendix 11</a>, “Renaissance Landscape.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_24" href="#FnAnchor_24"><span class="fn">24</span></a> Selvatico, “Architettura di Venezia,” p. 147.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_25" href="#FnAnchor_25"><span class="fn">25</span></a> Selvatico, p. 221.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_26" href="#FnAnchor_26"><span class="fn">26</span></a> The older work is of Istrian stone also, but of different quality.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_27" href="#FnAnchor_27"><span class="fn">27</span></a> <a href="#app_12">Appendix 12</a>, “Romanist Modern Art.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page036"></a>36</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_2"></a>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<h5>THE VIRTUES OF ARCHITECTURE.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">We</span> address ourselves, then, first to the task of determining +some law of right which we may apply to the architecture +of all the world and of all time; and by help of which, +and judgment according to which, we may easily pronounce +whether a building is good or noble, as, by applying a plumb-line, +whether it be perpendicular.</p> + +<p>The first question will of course <span class="correction" title="originally be,">be:</span> What are the possible +Virtues of architecture?</p> + +<p>In the main, we require from buildings, as from men, two +kinds of goodness: first, the doing their practical duty well: +then that they be graceful and pleasing in doing it; which +last is itself another form of duty.</p> + +<p>Then the practical duty divides itself into two branches,—acting +and talking:—acting, as to defend us from weather or +violence; talking, as the duty of monuments or tombs, to +record facts and express feelings; or of churches, temples, +public edifices, treated as books of history, to tell such history +clearly and forcibly.</p> + +<p>We have thus, altogether, three great branches of architectural +virtue, and we require of any building,—</p> + +<p class="negind">1. That it act well, and do the things it was intended to do +in the best way.</p> + +<p class="negind">2. That it speak well, and say the things it was intended to +say in the best words.</p> + +<p class="negind">3. That it look well, and please us by its presence, whatever +it has to do or say.<a name="FnAnchor_28" href="#Footnote_28"><span class="sp">28</span></a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page037"></a>37</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. Now, as regards the second of these virtues, it is evident +that we can establish no general laws. First, because it +is not a virtue required in all buildings; there are some which +are only for covert or defence, and from which we ask no conversation. +Secondly, because there are countless methods of +expression, some conventional, some natural: each conventional +mode has its own alphabet, which evidently can be no +subject of general laws. Every natural mode is instinctively +employed and instinctively understood, wherever there is true +feeling; and this instinct is above law. The choice of conventional +methods depends on circumstances out of calculation, +and that of natural methods on sensations out of control; +so that we can only say that the choice is right, when we feel +that the means are effective; and we cannot always say that +it is wrong when they are not so.</p> + +<p>A building which recorded the Bible history by means of a +series of sculptural pictures, would be perfectly useless to a +person unacquainted with the Bible beforehand; on the other +hand, the text of the Old and New Testaments might be +written on its walls, and yet the building be a very inconvenient +kind of book, not so useful as if it had been adorned +with intelligible and vivid sculpture. So, again, the power of +exciting emotion must vary or vanish, as the spectator becomes +thoughtless or cold; and the building may be often +blamed for what is the fault of its critic, or endowed with a +charm which is of its spectator’s creation. It is not, therefore, +possible to make expressional character any fair criterion of +excellence in buildings, until we can fully place ourselves in +the position of those to whom their expression was originally +addressed, and until we are certain that we understand every +symbol, and are capable of being touched by every association +which its builders employed as letters of their language. I +shall continually endeavor to put the reader into such sympathetic +temper, when I ask for his judgment of a building; +and in every work I may bring before him I shall point out, +as far as I am able, whatever is peculiar in its expression; nay, +I must even depend on such peculiarities for much of my best +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page038"></a>38</span> +evidence respecting the character of the builders. But I cannot +legalize the judgment for which I plead, nor insist upon it +if it be refused. I can neither force the reader to feel this +architectural rhetoric, nor compel him to confess that the +rhetoric is powerful, if it have produced no impression on his +own mind.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. I leave, therefore, the expression of buildings for incidental +notice only. But their other two virtues are proper +subjects of law,—their performance of their common and +necessary work, and their conformity with universal and +divine canons of loveliness: respecting these there can be no +doubt, no ambiguity. I would have the reader discern them +so quickly that, as he passes along a street, he may, by a glance +of the eye, distinguish the noble from the ignoble work. He +can do this, if he permit free play to his natural instincts; +and all that I have to do for him is to remove from those +instincts the artificial restraints which prevent their action, +and to encourage them to an unaffected and unbiassed choice +between right and wrong.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. We have, then, two qualities of buildings for subjects +of separate inquiry: their action, and aspect, and the sources +of virtue in both; that is to say, Strength and Beauty, both +of these being less admired in themselves, than as testifying +the intelligence or imagination of the builder.</p> + +<p>For we have a worthier way of looking at human than at +divine architecture: much of the value both of construction +and decoration, in the edifices of men, depends upon our +being led by the thing produced or adorned, to some contemplation +of the powers of mind concerned in its creation or +adornment. We are not so led by divine work, but are content +to rest in the contemplation of the thing created. I wish +the reader to note this especially: we take pleasure, or <i>should</i> +take pleasure, in architectural construction altogether as the +manifestation of an admirable human intelligence; it is not +the strength, not the size, not the finish of the work which +we are to venerate: rocks are always stronger, mountains +always larger, all natural objects more finished; but it is the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page039"></a>39</span> +intelligence and resolution of man in overcoming physical +difficulty which are to be the source of our pleasure and subject +of our praise. And again, in decoration or beauty, it is +less the actual loveliness of the thing produced, than the +choice and invention concerned in the production, which are +to delight us; the love and the thoughts of the workman more +than his work: his work must always be imperfect, but his +thoughts and affections may be true and deep.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. This origin of our pleasure in architecture I must insist +upon at somewhat greater length, for I would fain do away +with some of the ungrateful coldness which we show towards +the good builders of old time. In no art is there closer connection +between our delight in the work, and our admiration +of the workman’s mind, than in architecture, and yet we rarely +ask for a builder’s name. The patron at whose cost, the monk +through whose dreaming, the foundation was laid, we remember +occasionally; never the man who verily did the work. +Did the reader ever hear of William of Sens as having had +anything to do with Canterbury Cathedral? or of Pietro +Basegio as in anywise connected with the Ducal Palace of +Venice? There is much ingratitude and injustice in this; +and therefore I desire my reader to observe carefully how +much of his pleasure in building is derived, or should be +derived, from admiration of the intellect of men whose names +he knows not.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. The two virtues of architecture which we can justly +weigh, are, we said, its strength or good construction, and its +beauty or good decoration. Consider first, therefore, what +you mean when you say a building is well constructed or well +built; you do not merely mean that it answers its purpose,—this +is much, and many modern buildings fail of this much; +but if it be verily well built, it must answer this purpose in +the simplest way, and with no over-expenditure of means. +We require of a light-house, for instance, that it shall stand +firm and carry a light; if it do not this, assuredly it has been +ill built; but it may do it to the end of time, and yet not be +well built. It may have hundreds of tons of stone in it more +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page040"></a>40</span> +than were needed, and have cost thousands of pounds more +than it ought. To pronounce it well or ill built, we must +know the utmost forces it can have to resist, and the best +arrangements of stone for encountering them, and the quickest +ways of effecting such arrangements: then only, so far as such +arrangements have been chosen, and such methods used, is it +well built. Then the knowledge of all difficulties to be met, +and of all means of meeting them, and the quick and true +fancy or invention of the modes of applying the means to the +end, are what we have to admire in the builder, even as he is +seen through this first or inferior part of his work. Mental +power, observe: not muscular nor mechanical, nor technical, +nor empirical,—pure, precious, majestic, massy intellect; not +to be had at vulgar price, nor received without thanks, and +without asking from whom.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. Suppose, for instance, we are present at the building +of a bridge: the bricklayers or masons have had their centring +erected for them, and that centring was put together +by a carpenter, who had the line of its curve traced for him +by the architect: the masons are dexterously handling and +fitting their bricks, or, by the help of machinery, carefully +adjusting stones which are numbered for their places. There +is probably in their quickness of eye and readiness of hand +something admirable; but this is not what I ask the reader +to admire: not the carpentering, nor the bricklaying, nor +anything that he can presently see and understand, but the +choice of the curve, and the shaping of the numbered stones, +and the appointment of that number; there were many things +to be known and thought upon before these were decided. +The man who chose the curve and numbered the stones, had +to know the times and tides of the river, and the strength of +its floods, and the height and flow of them, and the soil of the +banks, and the endurance of it, and the weight of the stones +he had to build with, and the kind of traffic that day by day +would be carried on over his bridge,—all this specially, and all +the great general laws of force and weight, and their working; +and in the choice of the curve and numbering of stones are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page041"></a>41</span> +expressed not only his knowledge of these, but such ingenuity +and firmness as he had, in applying special means to overcome +the special difficulties about his bridge. There is no saying +how much wit, how much depth of thought, how much fancy, +presence of mind, courage, and fixed resolution there may +have gone to the placing of a single stone of it. This is what +we have to admire,—this grand power and heart of man in +the thing; not his technical or empirical way of holding the +trowel and laying mortar.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. Now there is in everything properly called art this +concernment of the intellect, even in the province of the art +which seems merely practical. For observe: in this bridge-building +I suppose no reference to architectural principles; +all that I suppose we want is to get safely over the river; the +man who has taken us over is still a mere bridge-builder,—a +<i>builder</i>, not an architect: he may be a rough, artless, feelingless +man, incapable of doing any one truly fine thing all his +days. I shall call upon you to despise him presently in a sort, +but not as if he were a mere smoother of mortar; perhaps a +great man, infinite in memory, indefatigable in labor, exhaustless +in expedient, unsurpassable in quickness of thought. +Take good heed you understand him before you despise him.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. But why is he to be in anywise despised? By no +means despise him, unless he happen to be without a soul,<a name="FnAnchor_29" href="#Footnote_29"><span class="sp">29</span></a> +or at least to show no signs of it; which possibly he may not +in merely carrying you across the river. He may be merely +what Mr. Carlyle rightly calls a human beaver after all; and +there may be nothing in all that ingenuity of his greater than +a complication of animal faculties, an intricate bestiality,—nest +or hive building in its highest development. You need something +more than this, or the man is despicable; you need that +virtue of building through which he may show his affections +and delights; you need its beauty or decoration.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. Not that, in reality, one division of the man is more +human than another. Theologists fall into this error very +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page042"></a>42</span> +fatally and continually; and a man from whom I have learned +much, Lord Lindsay, has hurt his noble book by it, speaking +as if the spirit of the man only were immortal, and were +opposed to his intellect, and the latter to the senses; whereas +all the divisions of humanity are noble or brutal, immortal or +mortal, according to the degree of their sanctification; and +there is no part of the man which is not immortal and divine +when it is once given to God, and no part of him which is +not mortal by the second death, and brutal before the first, +when it is withdrawn from God. For to what shall we trust +for our distinction from the beasts that perish? To our +higher intellect?—yet are we not bidden to be wise as the +serpent, and to consider the ways of the ant?—or to our +affections? nay; these are more shared by the lower animals +than our intelligence. Hamlet leaps into the grave of his +beloved, and leaves it,—a dog had stayed. Humanity and +immortality consist neither in reason, nor in love; not in the +body, nor in the animation of the heart of it, nor in the +thoughts and stirrings of the brain of it,—but in the dedication +of them all to Him who will raise them up at the last +day.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs correction" title="corrected from XL">XI</span>. It is not, therefore, that the signs of his affections, +which man leaves upon his work, are indeed more ennobling +than the signs of his intelligence; but it is the balance of +both whose expression we need, and the signs of the government +of them all by Conscience; and Discretion, the daughter +of Conscience. So, then, the intelligent part of man being +eminently, if not chiefly, displayed in the structure of his +work, his affectionate part is to be shown in its decoration; +and, that decoration may be indeed lovely, two things are +needed: first, that the affections be vivid, and honestly shown; +secondly, that they be fixed on the right things.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. You think, perhaps, I have put the requirements in +wrong order. Logically I have; practically I have not: for +it is necessary first to teach men to speak out, and say what +they like, truly; and, in the second place, to teach them +which of their likings are ill set, and which justly. If a man +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page043"></a>43</span> +is cold in his likings and dislikings, or if he will not tell you +what he likes, you can make nothing of him. Only get him +to feel quickly and to speak plainly, and you may set him +right. And the fact is, that the great evil of all recent +architectural effort has not been that men liked wrong things: +but that they either cared nothing about any, or pretended +to like what they did not. Do you suppose that any modern +architect likes what he builds, or enjoys it? Not in the least. +He builds it because he has been told that such and such +things are fine, and that he <i>should</i> like them. He pretends +to like them, and gives them a false relish of vanity. Do you +seriously imagine, reader, that any living soul in London likes +triglyphs?<a name="FnAnchor_30" href="#Footnote_30"><span class="sp">30</span></a>—or gets any hearty enjoyment out of pediments?<a name="FnAnchor_31" href="#Footnote_31"><span class="sp">31</span></a> +You are much mistaken. Greeks did: English +people never did,—never will. Do you fancy that the architect +of old Burlington Mews, in Regent Street, had any +particular satisfaction in putting the blank triangle over the +archway, instead of a useful garret window? By no manner +of means. He had been told it was right to do so, and +thought he should be admired for doing it. Very few faults +of architecture are mistakes of honest choice: they are almost +always hypocrisies.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. So, then, the first thing we have to ask of the decoration +is that it should indicate strong liking, and that +honestly. It matters not so much what the thing is, as that +the builder should really love it and enjoy it, and say so +plainly. The architect of Bourges Cathedral liked hawthorns; +so he has covered his porch with hawthorn,—it is a perfect +Niobe of May. Never was such hawthorn; you would try +to gather it forthwith, but for fear of being pricked. The +old Lombard architects liked hunting; so they covered their +work with horses and hounds, and men blowing trumpets two +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page044"></a>44</span> +yards long. The base Renaissance architects of Venice liked +masquing and fiddling; so they covered their work with +comic masks and musical instruments. Even that was better +than our English way of liking nothing, and professing to like +triglyphs.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. But the second requirement in decoration, is a sign +of our liking the right thing. And the right thing to be liked +is God’s work, which He made for our delight and contentment +in this world. And all noble ornamentation is the expression +of man’s delight in God’s work.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV</span>. So, then, these are the two virtues of building: first, +the signs of man’s own good work; secondly, the expression +of man’s delight in better work than his own. And these are +the two virtues of which I desire my reader to be able quickly +to judge, at least in some measure; to have a definite opinion +up to a certain point. Beyond a certain point he cannot form +one. When the science of the building is great, great science +is of course required to comprehend it; and, therefore, of difficult +bridges, and light-houses, and harbor walls, and river +dykes, and railway tunnels, no judgment may be rapidly +formed. But of common buildings, built in common circumstances, +it is very possible for every man, or woman, or child, +to form judgment both rational and rapid. Their necessary, +or even possible, features are but few; the laws of their construction +are as simple as they are interesting. The labor of +a few hours is enough to render the reader master of their +main points; and from that moment he will find in himself a +power of judgment which can neither be escaped nor deceived, +and discover subjects of interest where everything before had +appeared barren. For though the laws are few and simple, +the modes of obedience to them are not so. Every building +presents its own requirements and difficulties; and every good +building has peculiar appliances or contrivances to meet them. +Understand the laws of structure, and you will feel the special +difficulty in every new building which you approach; and you +will know also, or feel instinctively,<a name="FnAnchor_32" href="#Footnote_32"><span class="sp">32</span></a> whether it has been +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page045"></a>45</span> +wisely met or otherwise. And an enormous number of buildings, +and of styles of buildings, you will be able to cast aside +at once, as at variance with these constant laws of structure, +and therefore unnatural and monstrous.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. Then, as regards decoration, I want you only to +consult your own natural choice and liking. There is a right +and wrong in it; but you will assuredly like the right if you +suffer your natural instinct to lead you. Half the evil in this +world comes from people not knowing what they do like, not +deliberately setting themselves to find out what they really +enjoy. All people enjoy giving away money, for instance: +they don’t know <i>that</i>,—they rather think they like keeping it; +and they <i>do</i> keep it under this false impression, often to their +great discomfort. Every body likes to do good; but not one +in a hundred finds <i>this</i> out. Multitudes think they like to do +evil; yet no man ever really enjoyed doing evil since God +made the world.</p> + +<p>So in this lesser matter of ornament. It needs some little +care to try experiments upon yourself: it needs deliberate +question and upright answer. But there is no difficulty to be +overcome, no abstruse reasoning to be gone into; only a little +watchfulness needed, and thoughtfulness, and so much honesty +as will enable you to confess to yourself and to all men, that +you enjoy things, though great authorities say you should not.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII</span>. This looks somewhat like pride; but it is true humility, +a trust that you have been so created as to enjoy what +is fitting for you, and a willingness to be pleased, as it was +intended you should be. It is the child’s spirit, which we are +then most happy when we most recover; only wiser than +children in that we are ready to think it subject of thankfulness +that we can still be pleased with a fair color or a dancing +light. And, above all, do not try to make all these pleasures +reasonable, nor to connect the delight which you take in ornament +with that which you take in construction or usefulness. +They have no connection; and every effort that you make to +reason from one to the other will blunt your sense of beauty, +or confuse it with sensations altogether inferior to it. You +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page046"></a>46</span> +were made for enjoyment, and the world was filled with things +which you will enjoy, unless you are too proud to be pleased +by them, or too grasping to care for what you cannot turn to +other account than mere delight. Remember that the most +beautiful things in the world are the most useless; peacocks +and lilies for instance; at least I suppose this quill I hold in +my hand writes better than a peacock’s would, and the peasants +of Vevay, whose fields in spring time are as white with +lilies as the Dent du Midi is with its snow, told me the hay +was none the better for them.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII</span>. Our task therefore divides itself into two branches, +and these I shall follow in succession. I shall first consider +the construction of buildings, dividing them into their really +necessary members or features; and I shall endeavor so to +lead the reader forward from the foundation upwards, as that +he may find out for himself the best way of doing everything, +and having so discovered it, never forget it. I shall give him +stones, and bricks, and straw, chisels, and trowels, and the +ground, and then ask him to build; only helping him, as I can, +if I find him puzzled. And when he has built his house or +church, I shall ask him to ornament it, and leave it to him to +choose the ornaments as I did to find out the construction: I +shall use no influence with him whatever, except to counteract +previous prejudices, and leave him, as far as may be, free. +And when he has thus found out how to build, and chosen his +forms of decoration, I shall do what I can to confirm his confidence +in what he has done. I shall assure him that no one +in the world could, so far, have done better, and require him +to condemn, as futile or fallacious, whatever has no resemblance +to his own performances.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_28" href="#FnAnchor_28"><span class="fn">28</span></a> <a href="#app_13">Appendix 13</a>, “Mr. Fergusson’s System.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_29" href="#FnAnchor_29"><span class="fn">29</span></a> <a href="#app_14">Appendix 14</a>, “Divisions of Humanity.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_30" href="#FnAnchor_30"><span class="fn">30</span></a> Triglyph. Literally, “Three Cut.” The awkward upright ornament +with two notches in it, and a cut at each side, to be seen everywhere at the +tops of Doric colonnades, ancient and modern.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_31" href="#FnAnchor_31"><span class="fn">31</span></a> Pediment. The triangular space above Greek <span class="correction" title="originally porticos">porticoes</span>, as on the +Mansion House or Royal Exchange.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_32" href="#FnAnchor_32"><span class="fn">32</span></a> <a href="#app_15">Appendix 15</a>: “Instinctive Judgments.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page047"></a>47</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_3" id="chap_3"></a>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<h5>THE SIX DIVISIONS OF ARCHITECTURE.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">The</span> practical duties of buildings are twofold.</p> + +<p>They have either (1), to hold and protect something; or +(2), to place or carry something.</p> + +<p class="negind">1. Architecture of Protection. This is architecture intended +to protect men or their possessions from violence of +any kind, whether of men or of the elements. It will +include all churches, houses, and treasuries; fortresses, +fences, and ramparts; the architecture of the hut and +sheepfold; of the palace and the citadel: of the dyke, +breakwater, and sea-wall. And the protection, when +of living creatures, is to be understood as including +commodiousness and comfort of habitation, wherever +these are possible under the given circumstances.</p> + +<p class="negind">2. Architecture of Position. This is architecture intended +to carry men or things to some certain places, or to +hold them there. This will include all bridges, aqueducts, +and road architecture; light-houses, which have +to hold light in appointed places; chimneys to carry +smoke or direct currents of air; staircases; towers, +which are to be watched from or cried from, as in +mosques, or to hold bells, or to place men in positions +of offence, as ancient moveable attacking towers, and +most fortress towers.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. Protective architecture has to do one or all of three +things: to wall a space, to roof it, and to give access to it, of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page048"></a>48</span> +persons, light, and air; and it is therefore to be considered +under the three divisions of walls, roofs, and apertures.</p> + +<p>We will take, first, a short, general view of the connection +of these members, and then examine them in detail: endeavoring +always to keep the simplicity of our first arrangement +in view; for protective architecture has indeed no other members +than these, unless flooring and paving be considered +architecture, which it is only when the flooring is also a roof; +the laying of the stones or timbers for footing being pavior’s +or carpenter’s work, rather than architect’s; and, at all events, +work respecting the well or ill doing of which we shall hardly +find much difference of opinion, except in points of æsthetics. +We shall therefore concern ourselves only with the construction +of walls, roofs, and apertures.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. 1. <i>Walls.</i>—A wall is an even and united fence, +whether of wood, earth, stone, or metal. When meant for +purposes of mere partition or enclosure, it remains a wall +proper: but it has generally also to sustain a certain vertical +or lateral pressure, for which its strength is at first increased +by some general addition to its thickness; but if the pressure +becomes very great, it is gathered up into <i>piers</i> to resist vertical +pressure, and supported by <i>buttresses</i> to resist lateral +pressure.</p> + +<p>If its functions of partition or enclosure are continued, together +with that of resisting vertical pressure, it remains as a +wall veil between the piers into which it has been partly gathered; +but if it is required only to resist the vertical or roof +pressure, it is gathered up into piers altogether, loses its wall +character, and becomes a group or line of piers.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, if the lateral pressure be slight, it may +retain its character of a wall, being supported against the +pressure by buttresses at intervals; but if the lateral pressure +be very great, it is supported against such pressure by a continuous +buttress, loses its wall character, and becomes a dyke +or rampart.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. We shall have therefore (A) first to get a general idea +of a wall, and of right construction of walls; then (B) to see +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page049"></a>49</span> +how this wall is gathered into piers; and to get a general idea +of piers and the right construction of piers; then (C) to see +how a wall is supported by buttresses, and to get a general idea +of buttresses and the right construction of buttresses. This is +surely very simple, and it is all we shall have to do with walls +and their divisions.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. I.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_1"><img src="images/img049.jpg" width="500" height="484" alt="Fig. I." title="Fig. I." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. 2. <i>Roofs.</i>—A roof is the covering of a space, narrow +or wide. It will be most conveniently studied by first considering +the forms in which it may be carried over a narrow +space, and then expanding these on a wide plan; only there +is some difficulty here in the nomenclature, for an arched roof +over a narrow space has (I believe) no name, except that +which belongs properly to the piece of stone or wood composing +such a roof, namely, lintel. But the reader will have no +difficulty in understanding that he is first to consider roofs on +the section only, thinking how best to construct a narrow bar +or slice of them, of whatever form; as, for instance, <i>x</i>, <i>y</i>, or +<i>z</i>, over the plan or area <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_1">Fig. I.</a> Having done this, let him +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page050"></a>50</span> +imagine these several divisions, first moved along (or set side +by side) over a rectangle, <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_1">Fig. I.</a>, and then revolved round a +point (or crossed at it) over a polygon, <i>c</i>, or circle, <i>d</i>, and he will +have every form of simple roof: the arched section giving successively +the vaulted roof and dome, and the gabled section +giving the gabled roof and spire.</p> + +<p>As we go farther into the subject, we shall only have to +add one or two forms to the sections here given, in order to +embrace all the <i>uncombined</i> roofs in existence; and we shall +not trouble the reader with many questions respecting cross-vaulting, +and other modes of their combination.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. Now, it also happens, from its place in buildings, that +the sectional roof over a narrow space will need to be considered +before we come to the expanded roof over a broad one. +For when a wall has been gathered, as above explained, into +piers, that it may better bear vertical pressure, it is generally +necessary that it should be expanded again at the top into a +continuous wall before it carries the true roof. Arches or +lintels are, therefore, thrown from pier to pier, and a level +preparation for carrying the real roof is made above them. +After we have examined the structure of piers, therefore, we +shall have to see how lintels or arches are thrown from pier to +pier, and the whole prepared for the superincumbent roof; this +arrangement being universal in all good architecture prepared +for vertical pressures: and we shall then examine the condition +of the great roof itself. And because the structure of the +roof very often introduces certain lateral pressures which have +much to do with the placing of buttresses, it will be well to do +all this before we examine the nature of buttresses, and, therefore, +between parts (B) and (C) of the above plan, § <span class="scs">IV</span>. So +now we shall have to study: (A) the construction of walls; +(B) that of piers; (C) that of lintels or arches prepared for +roofing; (D) that of roofs proper; and (E) that of buttresses.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. 3. <i>Apertures.</i>—There must either be intervals between +the piers, of which intervals the character will be determined +by that of the piers themselves, or else doors or windows +in the walls proper. And, respecting doors or windows, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page051"></a>51</span> +we have to determine three things: first, the proper shape of +the entire aperture; secondly, the way in which it is to be +filled with valves or glass; and thirdly, the modes of protecting +it on the outside, and fitting appliances of convenience to +it, as porches or balconies. And this will be our division F; +and if the reader will have the patience to go through these +six heads, which include every possible feature of protective +architecture, and to consider the simple necessities and fitnesses +of each, I will answer for it, he shall never confound +good architecture with bad any more. For, as to architecture +of position, a great part of it involves necessities of construction +with which the spectator cannot become generally +acquainted, and of the compliance with which he is therefore +never expected to judge,—as in chimneys, light-houses, &c.: +and the other forms of it are so closely connected with those +of protective architecture, that a few words in <a href="#chap_19">Chap. XIX.</a> respecting +staircases and towers, will contain all with which the +reader need be troubled on the subject.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page052"></a>52</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_4"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<h5>THE WALL BASE.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">Our</span> first business, then, is with Wall, and to find out +wherein lies the true excellence of the “Wittiest Partition.” +For it is rather strange that, often as we speak of a “dead” +wall, and that with considerable disgust, we have not often, +since Snout’s time, heard of a living one. But the common +epithet of opprobrium is justly bestowed, and marks a right +feeling. A wall has no business to be dead. It ought to have +members in its make, and purposes in its existence, like an organized +creature, and to answer its ends in a living and energetic +way; and it is only when we do not choose to put any +strength nor organization into it, that it offends us by its deadness. +Every wall ought to be a “sweet and lovely wall.” I +do not care about its having ears; but, for instruction and exhortation, +I would often have it to “hold up its fingers.” What +its necessary members and excellences are, it is our present +business to discover.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. A wall has been defined to be an even and united +fence of wood, earth, stone, or metal. Metal fences, however, +seldom, if ever, take the form of walls, but of railings; and, +like all other metal constructions, must be left out of our +present investigation; as may be also walls composed merely +of light planks or laths for purposes of partition or inclosure. +Substantial walls, whether of wood or earth (I use the word +earth as including clay, baked or unbaked, and stone), have, +in their perfect form, three distinct members;—the Foundation, +Body or Veil, and Cornice.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. The foundation is to the wall what the paw is to an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page053"></a>53</span> +animal. It is a long foot, wider than the wall, on which the +wall is to stand, and which keeps it from settling into the +ground. It is most necessary that this great element of +security should be visible to the eye, and therefore made a +part of the structure above ground. Sometimes, indeed, it +becomes incorporated with the entire foundation of the building, +a vast table on which walls or piers are alike set: but +even then, the eye, taught by the reason, requires some additional +preparation or foot for the wall, and the building is +felt to be imperfect without it. This foundation we shall call +the Base of the wall.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. The body of the wall is of course the principal mass +of it, formed of mud or clay, of bricks or stones, of logs or +hewn timber; the condition of structure being, that it is of +equal thickness everywhere, below and above. It may be +half a foot thick, or six feet thick, or fifty feet thick; but if +of equal thickness everywhere, it is still a wall proper: if to +its fifty feet of proper thickness there be added so much as +an inch of thickness in particular parts, that added thickness +is to be considered as some form of buttress or pier, or other +appliance.<a name="FnAnchor_33" href="#Footnote_33"><span class="sp">33</span></a></p> + +<p>In perfect architecture, however, the walls are generally +kept of moderate thickness, and strengthened by piers or +buttresses; and the part of the wall between these, being +generally intended only to secure privacy, or keep out the +slighter forces of weather, may be properly called a Wall +Veil. I shall always use this word “Veil” to signify the even +portion of a wall, it being more expressive than the term +Body.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. When the materials with which this veil is built are +very loose, or of shapes which do not fit well together, it +sometimes becomes necessary, or at least adds to security, to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page054"></a>54</span> +introduce courses of more solid material. Thus, bricks +alternate with rolled pebbles in the old walls of Verona, and +hewn stones with brick in its Lombard churches. A banded +structure, almost a stratification of the wall, is thus produced; +and the courses of more solid material are sometimes decorated +with carving. Even when the wall is not thus banded +through its whole height, it frequently becomes expedient to +lay a course of stone, or at least of more carefully chosen +materials, at regular heights; and such belts or bands we may +call String courses. These are a kind of epochs in the wall’s +existence; something like periods of rest and reflection in human +life, before entering on a new career. Or else, in the building, +they correspond to the divisions of its stories within, express its +internal structure, and mark off some portion of the ends of +its existence already attained.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. Finally, on the top of the wall some protection from +the weather is necessary, or some preparation for the reception +of superincumbent weight, called a coping, or Cornice. +I shall use the word Cornice for both; for, in fact, a coping +is a roof to the wall itself, and is carried by a small cornice +as the roof of the building by a large one. In either case, the +cornice, small or large, is the termination of the wall’s existence, +the accomplishment of its work. When it is meant to carry +some superincumbent weight, the cornice may be considered as +its hand, opened to carry something above its head; as the base +was considered its foot: and the three parts should grow out +of each other and form one whole, like the root, stalk, and bell +of a flower.</p> + +<p>These three parts we shall examine in succession; and, first, +the Base.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. It may be sometimes in our power, and it is always +expedient, to prepare for the whole building some settled +foundation, level and firm, out of sight. But this has not +been done in some of the noblest buildings in existence. It +cannot always be done perfectly, except at enormous expense; +and, in reasoning upon the superstructure, we shall never +suppose it to be done. The mind of the spectator does not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page055"></a>55</span> +conceive it; and he estimates the merits of the edifice on the +supposition of its being built upon the ground. Even if there +be a vast table land of foundation elevated for the whole of +it, accessible by steps all round, as at Pisa, the surface of this +table is always conceived as capable of yielding somewhat to +superincumbent weight, and generally is so; and we shall +base all our arguments on the widest possible supposition, +that is to say, that the building stands on a surface either of +earth, or, at all events, capable of yielding in some degree to +its weight.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. II.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_2"><img src="images/img055.jpg" width="350" height="323" alt="Fig. II." title="Fig. II." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. Now, let the reader simply ask himself how, on +such a surface, he would +set about building a substantial +wall, that should be +able to bear weight and to +stand for ages. He would +assuredly look about for the +largest stones he had at +his disposal, and, rudely levelling +the ground, he would +lay these well together over +a considerably larger width +than he required the wall to +be (suppose as at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_2">Fig. II.</a>), +in order to equalise the pressure of the wall over a large surface, +and form its foot. On the top of these he would perhaps +lay a second tier of large stones, <i>b</i>, or even the third, <i>c</i>, making +the breadth somewhat less each time, so as to prepare for the +pressure of the wall on the centre, and, naturally or necessarily, +using somewhat smaller stones above than below (since +we supposed him to look about for the largest first), and +cutting them more neatly. His third tier, if not his second, +will probably appear a sufficiently secure foundation for finer +work; for if the earth yield at all, it will probably yield pretty +equally under the great mass of masonry now knit together +over it. So he will prepare for the wall itself at once by +sloping off the next tier of stones to the right diameter, as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page056"></a>56</span> +at <i>d</i>. If there be any joints in this tier within the wall, he +may perhaps, for further security, lay a binding stone across +them, <i>e</i>, and then begin the work of the wall veil itself, +whether in bricks or stones.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. I have supposed the preparation here to be for a large +wall, because such a preparation will give us the best general +type. But it is evident that the essential features of the arrangement +are only two, that is to say, one tier of massy work +for foundation, suppose <i>c</i>, missing the first two; and the receding +tier or real foot of the wall, <i>d</i>. The reader will find these +members, though only of brick, in most of the considerable +and independent walls in the suburbs of London.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. It is evident, however, that the general type, <a href="#fig_2">Fig. II.</a>, +will be subject to many different modifications in different +circumstances. Sometimes the ledges of the tiers <i>a</i> and <i>b</i> +may be of greater width; and when the building is in a +secure place, and of finished masonry, these may be sloped +off also like the main foot <i>d</i>. In Venetian buildings these +lower ledges are exposed to the sea, and therefore left rough +hewn; but in fine work and in important positions the lower +ledges may be bevelled and decorated like the upper, or +another added above <i>d</i>; and all these parts may be in +different proportions, according to the disposition of the +building above them. But we have nothing to do with any +of these variations at present, they being all more or less +dependent upon decorative considerations, except only one of +very great importance, that is to say, the widening of the +lower ledge into a stone seat, which may be often done in +buildings of great size with most beautiful effect: it looks +kind and hospitable, and preserves the work above from +violence. In St. Mark’s at Venice, which is a small and low +church, and needing no great foundation for the wall veils +of it, we find only the three members, <i>b</i>, <i>c</i>, and <i>d</i>. Of these +the first rises about a foot above the pavement of St. Mark’s +Place, and forms an elevated dais in some of the recesses of +the porches, chequered red and white; <i>c</i> forms a seat which +follows the line of the walls, while its basic character is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page057"></a>57</span> +marked by its also carrying certain shafts with which we +have here no concern; <i>d</i> is of white marble; and all are +enriched and decorated in the simplest and most perfect +manner possible, as we shall see in <a href="#chap_25">Chap. XXV.</a> And thus +much may serve to fix the type of wall bases, a type oftener +followed in real practice than any other we shall hereafter be +enabled to determine: for wall bases of necessity must be +solidly built, and the architect is therefore driven into the +adoption of the right form; or if he deviate from it, it is +generally in meeting some necessity of peculiar circumstances, +as in obtaining cellars and underground room, or in preparing +for some grand features or particular parts of the wall, or in +some mistaken idea of decoration,—into which errors we had +better not pursue him until we understand something more +of the rest of the building: let us therefore proceed to consider +the wall veil.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_33" href="#FnAnchor_33"><span class="fn">33</span></a> Many walls are slightly sloped or curved towards their tops, and have +buttresses added to them (that of the Queen’s Bench Prison is a curious +instance of the vertical buttress and inclined wall); but in all such instances +the slope of the wall is properly to be considered a condition of incorporated +buttress.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page058"></a>58</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_5"></a>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<h5>THE WALL VEIL.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">The</span> summer of the year 1849 was spent by the writer +in researches little bearing upon his present subject, and +connected chiefly with proposed illustrations of the mountain +forms in the works of J. M. W. Turner. But there are sometimes +more valuable lessons to be learned in the school of +nature than in that of Vitruvius, and a fragment of building +among the Alps is singularly illustrative of the chief feature +which I have at present to develope as necessary to the +perfection of the wall veil.</p> + +<p>It is a fragment of some size; a group of broken walls, one +of them overhanging; crowned with a cornice, nodding some +hundred and fifty feet over its massy flank, three thousand +above its glacier base, and fourteen thousand above the sea,—a +wall truly of some majesty, at once the most precipitous +and the strongest mass in the whole chain of the Alps, the +Mont Cervin.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. It has been falsely represented as a peak or tower. +It is a vast ridged promontory, connected at its western root +with the Dent d’Erin, and lifting itself like a rearing horse +with its face to the east. All the way along the flank of it, +for half a day’s journey on the Zmutt glacier, the grim black +terraces of its foundations range almost without a break; and +the clouds, when their day’s work is done, and they are +weary, lay themselves down on those foundation steps, and +rest till dawn, each with his leagues of grey mantle stretched +along the grisly ledge, and the cornice of the mighty wall +gleaming in the moonlight, three thousand feet above.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page059"></a>59</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. The eastern face of the promontory is hewn down, +as if by the single sweep of a sword, from the crest of it to +the base; hewn concave and smooth, like the hollow of a +wave: on each flank of it there is set a buttress, both of +about equal height, their heads sloped out from the main wall +about seven hundred feet below its summit. That on the +north is the most important; it is as sharp as the frontal angle +of a bastion, and sloped sheer away to the north-east, +throwing out spur beyond spur, until it terminates in a long +low curve of russet precipice, at whose foot a great bay of the +glacier of the Col de Cervin lies as level as a lake. This spur +is one of the few points from which the mass of the Mont +Cervin is in anywise approachable. It is a continuation of the +masonry of the mountain itself, and affords us the means of +examining the character of its materials.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. Few architects would like to build with them. The +slope of the rocks to the north-west is covered two feet deep +with their ruins, a mass of loose and slaty shale, of a dull +brick-red color, which yields beneath the foot like ashes, so +that, in running down, you step one yard, and slide three. +The rock is indeed hard beneath, but still disposed in thin +courses of these cloven shales, so finely laid that they look in +places more like a heap of crushed autumn leaves than a rock; +and the first sensation is one of unmitigated surprise, as if the +mountain were upheld by miracle; but surprise becomes more +intelligent reverence for the great builder, when we find, in +the middle of the mass of these dead leaves, a course of living +rock, of quartz as white as the snow that encircles it, and +harder than a bed of steel.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. It is one only of a thousand iron bands that knit the +strength of the mighty mountain. Through the buttress and +the wall alike, the courses of its varied masonry are seen in +their successive order, smooth and true as if laid by line and +plummet,<a name="FnAnchor_34" href="#Footnote_34"><span class="sp">34</span></a> but of thickness and strength continually varying, +and with silver cornices glittering along the edge of each, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page060"></a>60</span> +laid by the snowy winds and carved by the sunshine,—stainless +ornaments of the eternal temple, by which “neither the +hammer nor the axe, nor any tool, was heard while it was in +building.”</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. I do not, however, bring this forward as an instance +of any universal law of natural building; there are solid as +well as coursed masses of precipice, but it is somewhat curious +that the most noble cliff in Europe, which this eastern front +of the Cervin is, I believe, without dispute, should be to us +an example of the utmost possible stability of precipitousness +attained with materials of imperfect and variable character; +and, what is more, there are very few cliffs which do not +display alternations between compact and friable conditions +of their material, marked in their contours by bevelled slopes +when the bricks are soft, and vertical steps when they are +harder. And, although we are not hence to conclude that it +is well to introduce courses of bad materials when we can +get perfect material, I believe we may conclude with great +certainty that it is better and easier to strengthen a wall +necessarily of imperfect substance, as of brick, by introducing +carefully laid courses of stone, than by adding to its thickness; +and the first impression we receive from the unbroken aspect +of a wall veil, unless it be of hewn stone throughout, is that +it must be both thicker and weaker than it would have been, +had it been properly coursed. The decorative reasons for +adopting the coursed arrangement, which we shall notice +hereafter, are so weighty, that they would alone be almost +sufficient to enforce it; and the constructive ones will apply +universally, except in the rare cases in which the choice of +perfect or imperfect material is entirely open to us, or where +the general system of the decoration of the building requires +absolute unity in its surface.</p> + + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. III.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_3"><img src="images/img061.jpg" width="300" height="206" alt="Fig. III." title="Fig. III." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. As regards the arrangement of the intermediate +parts themselves, it is regulated by certain conditions of +bonding and fitting the stones or bricks, which the reader +need hardly be troubled to consider, and which I wish that +bricklayers themselves were always honest enough to observe. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page061"></a>61</span> +But I hardly know whether to note under the head of æsthetic +or constructive law, this important principle, that masonry is +always bad which appears to have arrested the attention of +the architect more than absolute conditions of strength +require. Nothing is more contemptible in any work than an +appearance of the slightest desire on the part of the builder +to <i>direct attention</i> to the way its stones are put together, or of +any trouble taken either to show or to conceal it more than +was rigidly necessary: it may sometimes, on the one hand, be +necessary to conceal it as far as may be, by delicate and close +fitting, when the joints would interfere with lines of sculpture +or of mouldings; and it may often, on the other hand, be +delightful to show it, as it is delightful in places to show the +anatomy even of the most delicate human frame: but <i>studiously</i> +to conceal it is the error of vulgar painters, who are afraid to +show that their figures have bones; and studiously to display +it is the error of the base pupils of Michael Angelo, who turned +heroes’ limbs into surgeons’ diagrams,—but with less excuse +than theirs, for there is less interest in the anatomy displayed. +Exhibited masonry is in most cases the expedient of architects +who do not know how to fill up blank spaces, and many a +building, which would have been decent enough if let alone, +has been scrawled over with +straight lines, as in <a href="#fig_3">Fig. III.</a>, +on exactly the same principles, +and with just the same +amount of intelligence as a +boy’s in scrawling his copy-book +when he cannot write. +The device was thought ingenious +at one period of architectural +history; St. Paul’s +and Whitehall are covered +with it, and it is in this I imagine that some of our modern +architects suppose the great merit of those buildings to consist. +There is, however, no excuse for errors in disposition of +masonry, for there is but one law upon the subject, and that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page062"></a>62</span> +easily complied with, to avoid all affectation and all unnecessary +expense, either in showing or concealing. Every one +knows a building is built of separate stones; nobody will ever +object to seeing that it is so, but nobody wants to count them. +The divisions of a church are much like the divisions of a +sermon; they are always right so long as they are necessary +to edification, and always wrong when they are thrust upon the +attention as divisions only. There may be neatness in carving +when there is richness in feasting; but I have heard many a +discourse, and seen many a church wall, in which it was all +carving and no meat.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_34" href="#FnAnchor_34"><span class="fn">34</span></a> On the eastern side: violently contorted on the northern and western.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page063" id="page063"></a>63</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_6"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<h5>THE WALL CORNICE.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">We</span> have lastly to consider the close of the wall’s existence, +or its cornice. It was above stated, that a cornice has +one of two offices: if the wall have nothing to carry, the +cornice is its roof, and defends it from the weather; if there +is weight to be carried above the wall, the cornice is its hand, +and is expanded to carry the said weight.</p> + +<p>There are several ways of roofing or protecting independent +walls, according to the means nearest at hand: sometimes +the wall has a true roof all to itself; sometimes it terminates +in a small gabled ridge, made of bricks set slanting, as constantly +in the suburbs of London; or of hewn stone, in stronger work; +or in a single sloping face, inclined to the outside. We need +not trouble ourselves at present about these small roofings, +which are merely the diminutions of large ones; but we must +examine the important and constant member of the wall structure, +which prepares it either for these small roofs or for +weights above, and is its true cornice.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. The reader will, perhaps, as heretofore, be kind +enough to think for himself, how, having carried up his wall +veil as high as it may be needed, he will set about protecting +it from weather, or preparing it for weight. Let him imagine +the top of the unfinished wall, as it would be seen from above +with all the joints, perhaps uncemented, or imperfectly filled +up with cement, open to the sky; and small broken materials +filling gaps between large ones, and leaving cavities ready for +the rain to soak into, and loosen and dissolve the cement, and +split, as it froze, the whole to pieces. I am much mistaken if +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page064"></a>64</span> +his first impulse would not be to take a great flat stone and lay +it on the top; or rather a series of such, side by side, projecting +well over the edge of the wall veil. If, also, he proposed +to lay a weight (as, for instance, the end of a beam) on the wall, +he would feel at once that the pressure of this beam on, or +rather among, the small stones of the wall veil, might very +possibly dislodge or disarrange some of them; and the first +impulse would be, in this case, also to lay a large flat stone on +the top of all to receive the beam, or any +other weight, and distribute it equally +among the small stones below, as at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_4">Fig. +IV.</a></p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. IV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_4"><img src="images/img064.jpg" width="175" height="500" alt="Fig. IV." title="Fig. IV." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. We must therefore have our flat +stone in either case; and let <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_4">Fig. IV.</a>, +be the section or side of it, as it is set across +the wall. Now, evidently, if by any +chance this weight happen to be thrown +more on the edges of this stone than the +centre, there will be a chance of these +edges breaking off. Had we not better, +therefore, put another stone, sloped off to +the wall, beneath the projecting one, as at +<i>c</i>. But now our cornice looks somewhat +too heavy for the wall; and as the upper +stone is evidently of needless thickness, +we will thin it somewhat, and we have the +form <i>d</i>. Now observe: the lower or bevelled stone here at <i>d</i> +corresponds to <i>d</i> in the base (Fig. II., page 59). That was the +foot of the wall; this is its hand. And the top stone here, +which is a constant member of cornices, corresponds to the +under stone <i>c</i>, in Fig. II., which is a constant member of bases. +The reader has no idea at present of the enormous importance +of these members; but as we shall have to refer to them +perpetually, I must ask him to compare them, and fix their +relations well in his mind: and, for convenience, I shall call +the bevelled or sloping stone, X, and the upright edged stone, +Y. The reader may remember easily which is which; for X +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page065"></a>65</span> +is an intersection of two slopes, and may therefore properly +mean either of the two sloping stones; and Y is a figure with +a perpendicular line and two slopes, and may therefore fitly +stand for the upright stone in relation to each of the sloping +ones; and as we shall have to say much more about cornices +than about bases, let X and Y stand for the stones of the cornice, +and Xb and Yb for those of the base, when distinction is +needed.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. Now the form at <i>d</i>, <a href="#fig_4">Fig. IV.</a>, is the great root and +primal type of all cornices whatsoever. In order to see what +forms may be developed from it, let us take its profile a little +larger—<i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a>, with X and Y duly marked. Now this +form, being the root of all cornices, may either have to finish +the wall and so keep off rain; or, as so often stated, to carry +weight. If the former, it is evident that, in its present profile, +the rain will run back down the slope of X; and if the latter, +that the sharp angle or edge of X, at <i>k</i>, may be a little too +weak for its work, and run a chance of giving way. To avoid +the evil in the first case, suppose we hollow the slope of X +inwards, as at <i>b</i>; and to avoid it in the second case, suppose +we strengthen X by letting it bulge outwards, as at c.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. V.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_5"><img src="images/img065.jpg" width="500" height="380" alt="Fig. V." title="Fig. V." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. These (<i>b</i> and <i>c</i>) are the profiles of two vast families of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page066"></a>66</span> +cornices, springing from the same root, which, with a third +arising from their combination (owing its origin to æsthetic +considerations, and inclining sometimes to the one, sometimes +to the other), have been employed, each on its third part of +the architecture of the whole world throughout all ages, and +must continue to be so employed through such time as is yet +to come. We do not at present speak of the third or combined +group; but the relation of the two main branches to +each other, and to the line of origin, is given at <i>e</i>, <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a>; +where the dotted lines are the representatives of the two +families, and the straight line of the root. The slope of this +right line, as well as the nature of the curves, here drawn as +segments of circles, we leave undetermined: the slope, as well +as the proportion of the depths of X and Y to each other, vary +according to the weight to be carried, the strength of the +stone, the size of the cornice, and a thousand other accidents; +and the nature of the curves according to æsthetic laws. It is +in these infinite fields that the invention of the architect is permitted +to expatiate, but not in the alteration of primitive +forms.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. But to proceed. It will doubtless appear to the +reader, that, even allowing for some of these permissible variations +in the curve or slope of X, neither the form at <i>b</i>, nor +any approximation to that form, would be sufficiently undercut +to keep the rain from running back upon it. This is true; +but we have to consider that the cornice, as the close of the +wall’s life, is of all its features that which is best fitted for +honor and ornament. It has been esteemed so by almost all +builders, and has been lavishly decorated in modes hereafter to +be considered. But it is evident that, as it is high above the +eye, the fittest place to receive the decoration is the slope of +X, which is inclined towards the spectator; and if we cut away +or hollow out this slope more than we have done at <i>b</i>, all decoration +will be hid in the shadow. If, therefore, the climate +be fine, and rain of long continuance not to be dreaded, we +shall not hollow the stone X further, adopting the curve at <i>b</i> +merely as the most protective in our power. But if the climate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page067"></a>67</span> +be one in which rain is frequent and dangerous, as in alternations +with frost, we may be compelled to consider the cornice +in a character distinctly protective, and to hollow out X +farther, so as to enable it thoroughly to accomplish its purpose. +A cornice thus treated loses its character as the crown or +honor of the wall, takes the office of its protector, and is called +a <span class="scs">DRIPSTONE</span>. The dripstone is naturally the attribute of +Northern buildings, and therefore especially of Gothic architecture; +the true cornice is the attribute of Southern buildings, +and therefore of Greek and Italian architecture; and it is one +of their peculiar beauties, and eminent features of superiority.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. Before passing to the dripstone, however, let us +examine a little farther into the nature of the true cornice. +We cannot, indeed, render either of the forms <i>b</i> or <i>c</i>, <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a>, +perfectly protective from rain, but we can help them a little +in their duty by a slight advance of their upper ledge. This, +with the form <i>b</i>, we can best manage by cutting off the sharp +upper point of its curve, which is evidently weak and useless; +and we shall have the form <i>f</i>. By a slight advance of the +upper stone <i>c</i>, we shall have the parallel form <i>g</i>.</p> + +<p>These two cornices, <i>f</i> and <i>g</i>, are characteristic of early +Byzantine work, and are found on all the most lovely +examples of it in Venice. The type <i>a</i> is rarer, but occurs +pure in the most exquisite piece of composition in Venice—the +northern portico of St. Mark’s; and will be given in due +time.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. Now the reader has doubtless noticed that these +forms of cornice result, from considerations of fitness and +necessity, far more neatly and decisively than the forms of the +base, which we left only very generally determined. The +reason is, that there are many ways of building foundations, +and many <i>good</i> ways, dependent upon the peculiar accidents +of the ground and nature of accessible materials. There is +also room to spare in width, and a chance of a part of the +arrangement being concealed by the ground, so as to modify +height. But we have no room to spare in width on the top +of a wall, and all that we do must be thoroughly visible; and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page068"></a>68</span> +we can but have to deal with bricks, or stones of a certain +degree of fineness, and not with mere gravel, or sand, or +clay,—so that as the conditions are limited, the forms become +determined; and our steps will be more clear and certain the +farther we advance. The sources of a river are usually half +lost among moss and pebbles, and its first movements doubtful +in direction; but, as the current gathers force, its banks are +determined, and its branches are numbered.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. So far of the true cornice: we have still to determine +the form of the dripstone.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. VI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_6"><img src="images/img068.jpg" width="600" height="165" alt="Fig. VI." title="Fig. VI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>We go back to our primal type or root of cornice, <i>a</i> of +<a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a> We take this at <i>a</i> in <a href="#fig_6">Fig. VI.</a>, and we are to consider +it entirely as a protection against rain. Now the only +way in which the rain can be kept from running back on the +slope of X is by a bold hollowing out of it upwards, <i>b</i>. But +clearly, by thus doing, we shall so weaken the projecting part +of it that the least shock would break it at the neck, <i>c</i>; we +must therefore cut the whole out of one stone, which will give +us the form <i>d</i>. That the water may not lodge on the upper +ledge of this, we had better round it off; and it will better +protect the joint at the bottom of the slope if we let the stone +project over it in a roll, cutting the recess deeper above. +These two changes are made in <i>e</i>: <i>e</i> is the type of dripstones; +the projecting part being, however, more or less rounded into +an approximation to the shape of a falcon’s beak, and often +reaching it completely. But the essential part of the arrangement +is the up and under cutting of the curve. Wherever we +find this, we are sure that the climate is wet, or that the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page069"></a>69</span> +builders have been <i>bred</i> in a wet country, and that the rest of +the building will be prepared for rough weather. The up cutting +of the curve is sometimes all the distinction between the +mouldings of far-distant countries and utterly strange nations.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. VII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_7"><img src="images/img069a.jpg" width="150" height="188" alt="Fig. VII." title="Fig. VII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p><a href="#fig_7">Fig. VII.</a> representing a moulding with an outer and inner +curve, the latter undercut. Take the +outer line, and this moulding is one constant +in Venice, in architecture traceable +to Arabian types, and chiefly to the early +mosques of Cairo. But take the inner +line; it is a dripstone at Salisbury. In +that narrow interval between the curves +there is, when we read it rightly, an expression +of another and mightier curve,—the +orbed sweep of the earth and sea, between +the desert of the Pyramids, and the green and level +fields through which the clear streams of Sarum wind so +slowly.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. VIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_8"><img src="images/img069b.jpg" width="350" height="263" alt="Fig. VIII." title="Fig. VIII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>And so delicate is the test, that though pure cornices are +often found in the north,—borrowed from classical models,—so +surely as we find a true dripstone moulding in the South, the +influence of Northern +builders has been at +work; and this will +be one of the principal +evidences which I +shall use in detecting +Lombard influence on +Arab work; for the +true Byzantine and +Arab mouldings are +all open to the sky and +light, but the Lombards +brought with +them from the North the fear of rain, and in all the Lombardic +Gothic we instantly recognize the shadowy dripstone: <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_8">Fig. +VIII.</a>, is from a noble fragment at Milan, in the Piazza dei +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page070"></a>70</span> +Mercanti; <i>b</i>, from the Broletto of Como. Compare them +with <i>c</i> and <i>d</i>; both from Salisbury; <i>e</i> and <i>f</i> from Lisieux, Normandy; +<i>g</i> and <i>h</i> from Wenlock Abbey, Shropshire.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. The reader is now master of all that he need know +about the construction of the general wall cornice, fitted +either to become a crown of the wall, or to carry weight +above. If, however, the weight above become considerable, +it may be necessary to support the cornice at intervals with +brackets; especially if it be required to project far, as well +as to carry weight; as, for instance, if there be a gallery +on top of the wall. This kind of bracket-cornice, deep or +shallow, forms a separate family, essentially connected with +roofs and galleries; for if there be no superincumbent weight, +it is evidently absurd to put brackets to a plain cornice or dripstone +(though this is sometimes done in carrying out a style); +so that, as soon as we see a bracket put to a cornice, it implies, +or should imply, that there is a roof or gallery above it. +Hence this family of cornices I shall consider in connection +with roofing, calling them “roof cornices,” while what we +have hitherto examined are proper “wall cornices.” The roof +cornice and wall cornice are therefore treated in division D.</p> + +<p>We are not, however, as yet nearly ready for our roof. +We have only obtained that which was to be the object of +our first division (A); we have got, that is to say, a general +idea of a wall and of the three essential parts of a wall; and +we have next, it will be remembered, to get an idea of a pier +and the essential parts of a pier, which were to be the subjects +of our second division (B).</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page071"></a>71</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_7"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h3> + +<h5>THE PIER BASE.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">In</span> § <span class="scs">III.</span> of <a href="#chap_3">Chap. III.</a>, it was stated that when a wall had +to sustain an addition of vertical pressure, it was first fitted to +sustain it by some addition to its own thickness; but if the +pressure became very great, by being gathered up into <span class="sc">Piers</span>.</p> + +<p>I must first make the reader understand what I mean by a +wall’s being gathered up. Take a piece of tolerably thick +drawing-paper, or thin Bristol board, five or six inches square. +Set it on its edge on the table, and put a small octavo book +on the edge or top of it, and it will bend instantly. Tear it +into four strips all across, and roll up each strip tightly. Set +these rolls on end on the table, and they will carry the small +octavo perfectly well. Now the thickness or substance of the +paper employed to carry the weight is exactly the same as it +was before, only it is differently arranged, that is to say, +“gathered up.”<a name="FnAnchor_35" href="#Footnote_35"><span class="sp">35</span></a> If therefore a wall be gathered up like the +Bristol board, it will bear greater weight than it would if it +remained a wall veil. The sticks into which you gather it are +called <i>Piers</i>. A pier is a coagulated wall.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. Now you cannot quite treat the wall as you did the +Bristol board, and twist it up at once; but let us see how you +<i>can</i> treat it. Let <span class="scs">A</span>, <a href="#fig_9">Fig. IX.</a>, be the plan of a wall which you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page072"></a>72</span> +have made inconveniently and expensively thick, and which +still appears to be slightly too weak for what it must carry: +divide it, as at <span class="scs">B</span>, into equal spaces, <i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, &c. Cut out a +thin slice of it at every <i>a</i> on each side, and put the slices you +cut out on at every <i>b</i> on each side, and you will have the plan +at B, with exactly the same quantity of bricks. But your wall +is now so much concentrated, that, if it was only slightly too +weak before, it will be stronger now than it need be; so you +may spare some of your space as well as your bricks by cutting +off the corners of the thicker parts, as suppose <i>c</i>, <i>c</i>, <i>c</i>, <i>c</i>, +at <span class="scs">C</span>: and you have now a series of square piers connected by +a wall veil, which, on less space and with less materials, will +do the work of the wall at <span class="scs">A</span> perfectly well.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. IX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_9"><img src="images/img072.jpg" width="450" height="512" alt="Fig. IX." title="Fig. IX." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. I do not say <i>how much</i> may be cut away in the corners +<i>c</i>, <i>c</i>,—that is a mathematical question with which we need not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page073"></a>73</span> +trouble ourselves: all that we need know is, that out of every +slice we take from the “<i>b</i>‘s” and put on at the “<i>a</i>’s,” we may +keep a certain percentage of room and bricks, until, supposing +that we do not want the wall veil for its own sake, this latter +is thinned entirely away, like the girdle of the Lady of Avenel, +and finally breaks, and we have nothing but a row of square +piers, <span class="scs">D</span>.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. But have we yet arrived at the form which will spare +most room, and use fewest materials. No; and to get farther +we must apply the general principle to our wall, which is +equally true in morals and mathematics, that the strength of +materials, or of men, or of minds, is always most available +when it is applied as closely as possible to a single point.</p> + +<p>Let the point to which we wish the strength of our square +piers to be applied, be chosen. Then we shall of course put +them directly under it, and the point will be in their centre. +But now some of their materials are not so near or close to +this point as others. Those at the corners are farther off than +the rest.</p> + +<p>Now, if every particle of the pier be brought as near as +possible to the centre of it, the form it assumes is the circle.</p> + +<p>The circle must be, therefore, the best possible form of +plan for a pier, from the beginning of time to the end of it. +A circular pier is called a pillar or column, and all good architecture +adapted to vertical support is made up of pillars, has +always been so, and must ever be so, as long as the laws of the +universe hold.</p> + +<p>The final condition is represented at <span class="scs">E</span>, in its relation to that +at <span class="scs">D</span>. It will be observed that though each circle projects a +little beyond the side of the square out of which it is formed, +the space cut off at the angles is greater than that added at +the sides; for, having our materials in a more concentrated +arrangement, we can afford to part with some of them in this +last transformation, as in all the rest.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. And now, what have the base and the cornice of the +wall been doing while we have been cutting the veil to pieces +and gathering it together?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page074"></a>74</span></p> + +<p>The base is also cut to pieces, gathered together, and becomes +the base of the column.</p> + +<p>The cornice is cut to pieces, gathered together, and becomes +the capital of the column. Do not be alarmed at the +new word, it does not mean a new thing; a capital is only the +cornice of a column, and you may, if you like, call a cornice +the capital of a wall.</p> + +<p>We have now, therefore, to examine these three concentrated +forms of the base, veil, and cornice: first, the concentrated +base, still called the <span class="sc">Base</span> of the column; then the +concentrated veil, called the <span class="sc">Shaft</span> of the column; then the +concentrated cornice, called the <span class="sc">Capital</span> of the column.</p> + +<p>And first the Base:—</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. X.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_10"><img src="images/img074.jpg" width="450" height="257" alt="Fig. X." title="Fig. X." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. Look back to the main type, <a href="#fig_2">Fig. II.</a>, page 55, and +apply its profiles in due proportion to the feet of the pillars at +<span class="scs">E</span> in <a href="#fig_9">Fig. IX.</a> <a href="#page072">p. 72</a>: If each step in <a href="#fig_2">Fig. II.</a> were gathered +accurately, the projection of the entire circular base would be +less in proportion to its height than it is in <a href="#fig_2">Fig. II.</a>; but the +approximation to the result in <a href="#fig_10">Fig. X.</a> is quite accurate enough +for our purposes. (I pray the reader to observe that I have +not made the smallest change, except this necessary expression +of a reduction in diameter, in <a href="#fig_2">Fig. II.</a> as it is applied +in <a href="#fig_10">Fig. X.</a>, only I have not drawn the joints of the stones +because these would confuse the outlines of the bases; and +I have not represented the rounding of the shafts, because +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page075"></a>75</span> +it does not bear at present on the argument.) Now it would +hardly be convenient, if we had to pass between the pillars, to +have to squeeze ourselves through one of those angular gaps +or brêches de Roland in <a href="#fig_10">Fig. X.</a> Our first impulse would be +to cut them open; but we cannot do this, or our piers are +unsafe. We have but one other resource, to fill them up until +we have a floor wide enough to let us pass easily: this we may +perhaps obtain at the first ledge, we are nearly sure to get it +at the second, and we may then obtain access to the raised +interval, either by raising the earth over the lower courses of +foundation, or by steps round the entire building.</p> + +<p><a href="#fig_11">Fig. XI.</a> is the arrangement of <a href="#fig_10">Fig. X.</a> so treated.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_11"><img src="images/img075.jpg" width="450" height="256" alt="Fig. XI." title="Fig. XI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. But suppose the pillars are so vast that the lowest +chink in <a href="#fig_10">Fig. X.</a> would be quite wide enough to let us pass +through it. Is there then any reason for filling it up? Yes. +It will be remembered that in <a href="#chap_4">Chap. IV.</a> § <span class="scs">VIII.</span> the chief reason +for the wide foundation of the wall was stated to be “that it +might equalise its pressure over a large surface;” but when +the foundation is cut to pieces as in <a href="#fig_10">Fig. X.</a>, the pressure is +thrown on a succession of narrowed and detached spaces of +that surface. If the ground is in some places more disposed +to yield than in others, the piers in those places will sink more +than the rest, and this distortion of the system will be probably +of more importance in pillars than in a wall, because the adjustment +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page076"></a>76</span> +of the weight above is more delicate; we thus actually +want the <i>weight</i> of the stones between the pillars, in order +that the whole foundation may be bonded into one, and sink +together if it sink at all: and the more massy the pillars, the +more we shall need to fill the intervals of their foundations. +In the best form of Greek architecture, the intervals are filled +up to the root of the shaft, and the columns have no independent +base; they stand on the even floor of their foundation.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. Such a structure is not only admissible, but, when +the column is of great thickness in proportion to its height, +and the sufficient firmness, either of the ground or prepared floor, +is evident, it is the best of all, having a strange dignity in its +excessive simplicity. It is, or ought to be, connected in our +minds with the deep meaning of primeval memorial. “And +Jacob took the stone that he had put for his pillow, and set it +up for a pillar.” I do not fancy that he put a base for it first. +If you try to put a base to the rock-piers of Stonehenge, you +will hardly find them improved; and two of the most perfect +buildings in the world, the Parthenon and Ducal palace of +Venice, have no bases to their pillars: the latter has them, +indeed, to its upper arcade shafts; and had once, it is said, a +continuous raised base for its lower ones: but successive elevations +of St. Mark’s Place have covered this base, and parts of +the shafts themselves, with an inundation of paving stones; +and yet the building is, I doubt not, as grand as ever. Finally, +the two most noble pillars in Venice, those brought from Acre, +stand on the smooth marble surface of the Piazzetta, with no +independent bases whatever. They are rather broken away +beneath, so that you may look under parts of them, and stand +(not quite erect, but leaning somewhat) safe by their own +massy weight. Nor could any bases possibly be devised that +would not spoil them.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. But it is otherwise if the pillar be so slender as to look +doubtfully balanced. It would indeed stand quite as safely +without an independent base as it would with one (at least, +unless the base be in the form of a socket). But it will not +appear so safe to the eye. And here for the first time, I have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page077"></a>77</span> +to express and apply a principle, which I believe the reader +will at once grant,—that features necessary to express security +to the imagination, are often as essential parts of good architecture +as those required for security itself. It was said that +the wall base was the foot or paw of the wall. Exactly in the +same way, and with clearer analogy, the pier base is the foot +or paw of the pier. Let us, then, take a hint from nature. +A foot has two offices, to bear up, and to hold firm. As far +as it has to bear up, it is uncloven, with slight projection,—look +at an elephant’s (the Doric base of animality);<a name="FnAnchor_36" href="#Footnote_36"><span class="sp">36</span></a> but as +far as it has to hold firm, it is divided and clawed, with wide +projections,—look at an eagle’s.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. Now observe. In proportion to the massiness of the +column, we require its foot to express merely the power of +bearing up; in fact, it can do without a foot, like the Squire +in Chevy Chase, if the ground only be hard enough. But if +the column be slender, and look as if it might lose its balance, +we require it to look as if it had hold of the ground, or the +ground hold of it, it does not matter which,—some expression +of claw, prop, or socket. Now let us go back to <a href="#fig_11">Fig. XI.</a>, and +take up one of the bases there, in the state in which we left it. +We may leave out the two lower steps (with which we have +nothing more to do, as they have become the united floor or +foundation of the whole), and, for the sake of greater clearness, +I shall not draw the bricks in the shaft, nor the flat stone +which carries them, though the reader is to suppose them remaining +as drawn in <a href="#fig_11">Fig. XI.</a>; but I shall only draw the shaft +and its two essential members of base, Xb and Yb, as explained +at <a href="#page065">p. 65</a>, above: and now, expressing the rounding of these +numbers on <i>a</i> somewhat larger scale, we have the profile <i>a</i>, +<a href="#fig_12">Fig. XII.</a>; <i>b</i>, the perspective appearance of such a base seen +from above; and <i>c</i>, the plan of it.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. Now I am quite sure the reader is not satisfied of the +stability of this form as it is seen at <i>b</i>; nor would he ever be +so with the main contour of a circular base. Observe, we have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page078"></a>78</span> +taken some trouble to reduce the member Yb into this round +form, and all that we have gained by so doing, is this unsatisfactory +and unstable look of the base; of which the chief +reason is, that a circle, unless enclosed by right lines, has never +an appearance of fixture, or definite place,<a name="FnAnchor_37" href="#Footnote_37"><span class="sp">37</span></a>—we suspect it of +motion, like an orb of heaven; and the second is, that the +whole base, considered as the foot of the shaft, has no grasp +nor hold: it is a club-foot, and looks too blunt for the limb,—it +wants at least expansion, if not division.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_12"><img src="images/img078.jpg" width="500" height="504" alt="Fig. XII." title="Fig. XII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. Suppose, then, instead of taking so much trouble +with the member Yb, we save time and labor, and leave it a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page079"></a>79</span> +square block. Xb must, however, evidently follow the pillar, +as its condition is that it slope to the very base of the wall veil, +and of whatever the wall veil becomes. So the corners of Yb +will project beyond the circle of Xb, and we shall have (<a href="#fig_12">Fig. +XII.</a>) the profile <i>d</i>, the perspective appearance <i>e</i>, and the plan +<i>f</i>. I am quite sure the reader likes <i>e</i> much better than he did +<i>b</i>. The circle is now placed, and we are not afraid of its rolling +away. The foot has greater expansion, and we have saved +labor besides, with little loss of space, for the interval between +the bases is just as great as it was before,—we have only filled +up the corners of the squares.</p> + +<p>But is it not possible to mend the form still further? There +is surely still an appearance of separation between Xb and Yb, +as if the one might slip off the other. The foot is expanded +enough; but it needs some expression of grasp as well. It has +no toes. Suppose we were to put a spur or prop to Xb at each +corner, so as to hold it fast in the centre of Yb. We will do +this in the simplest possible form. We will have the spur, or +small buttress, sloping straight from the corner of Yb up to +the top of Xb, and as seen from above, of the shape of a triangle. +Applying such spurs in <a href="#fig_12">Fig. XII.</a>, we have the diagonal +profile at <i>g</i>, the perspective <i>h</i>, and the plan <i>i</i>.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. I am quite sure the reader likes this last base the +best, and feels as if it were the firmest. But he must carefully +distinguish between this feeling or imagination of the eye, and +the real stability of the structure. That this real stability has +been slightly increased by the changes between <i>b</i> and <i>h</i>, in <a href="#fig_12">Fig. +XII.</a>, is true. There is in the base <i>h</i> somewhat less chance of +accidental dislocation, and somewhat greater solidity and weight. +But this very slight gain of security is of no importance whatever +when compared with the general requirements of the +structure. The pillar must be <i>perfectly</i> secure, and more than +secure, with the base <i>b</i>, or the building will be unsafe, whatever +other base you put to the pillar. The changes are made, +not for the sake of the almost inappreciable increase of security +they involve, but in order to convince the eye of the real security +which the base <i>b</i> <i>appears</i> to compromise. This is especially +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page080"></a>80</span> +the case with regard to the props or spurs, which are +absolutely useless in reality, but are of the highest importance +as an expression of safety. And this will farther appear when +we observe that they have been above quite arbitrarily supposed +to be of a triangular form. Why triangular? Why should +not the spur be made wider and stronger, so as to occupy the +whole width of the angle of the square, and to become a complete +expansion of Xb to the edge of the square? Simply +because, whatever its width, it has, in reality, no supporting +power whatever; and the <i>expression</i> of support is greatest +where it assumes a form approximating to that of the spur or +claw of an animal. We shall, however, find hereafter, that it +ought indeed to be much wider than it is in <a href="#fig_12">Fig. XII.</a>, where +it is narrowed in order to make its structure clearly intelligible.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. If the reader chooses to consider this spur as an +æsthetic feature altogether, he is at liberty to do so, and to +transfer what we have here said of it to the beginning of <a href="#chap_25">Chap. +XXV.</a> I think that its true place is here, as an <i>expression</i> of +safety, and not a means of beauty; but I will assume only, as +established, the form <i>e</i> of <a href="#fig_12">Fig. XII.</a>, which is absolutely, as a +construction, easier, stronger, and more perfect than <i>b</i>. A +word or two now of its materials. The wall base, it will be +remembered, was built of stones more neatly cut as they were +higher in place; and the members, Y and X, of the pier base, +were the highest members of the wall base gathered. But, +exactly in proportion to this gathering or concentration in +form, should, if possible, be the gathering or concentration of +substance. For as the whole weight of the building is now to +rest upon few and limited spaces, it is of the greater importance +that it should be there received by solid masonry. Xb and Yb +are therefore, if possible, to be each of a single stone; or, when +the shaft is small, both cut out of one block, and especially if +spurs are to be added to Xb. The reader must not be angry +with me for stating things so self-evident, for these are all +necessary steps in the chain of argument which I must not +break. Even this change from detached stones to a single +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page081"></a>81</span> +block is not without significance; for it is part of the real +service and value of the member Yb to provide for the reception +of the shaft a surface free from joints; and the eye always +conceives it as a firm covering over all inequalities or fissures +in the smaller masonry of the floor.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV.</span> I have said nothing yet of the proportion of the +height of Yb to its width, nor of that of Yb and Xb to each +other. Both depend much on the height of shaft, and are besides +variable within certain limits, at the architect’s discretion. +But the limits of the height of Yb may be thus generally +stated. If it looks so thin as that the weight of the column +above might break it, it is too low; and if it is higher than its +own width, it is too high. The utmost admissible height is +that of a cubic block; for if it ever become higher than it is +wide, it becomes itself a part of a pier, and not the base of +one.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI.</span> I have also supposed Yb, when expanded from +beneath Xb, as always expanded into a square, and four spurs +only to be added at the angles. But Yb may be expanded into +a pentagon, hexagon, or polygon; and Xb then may have five, +six, or many spurs. In proportion, however, as the sides +increase in number, the spurs become shorter and less energetic +in their effect, and the square is in most cases the best form.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII.</span> We have hitherto conducted the argument entirely +on the supposition of the pillars being numerous, and in a +range. Suppose, however, that we require only a single pillar: +as we have free space round it, there is no need to fill up the +first ranges of its foundations; nor need we do so in order to +equalise pressure, since the pressure to be met is its own alone. +Under such circumstances, it is well to exhibit the lower tiers +of the foundation as well as Yb and Xb. The noble bases of +the two granite pillars of the Piazzetta at Venice are formed +by the entire series of members given in <a href="#fig_10">Fig. X.</a>, the lower +courses expanding into steps, with a superb breadth of proportion +to the shaft. The member Xb is of course circular, having +its proper decorative mouldings, not here considered; Yb is +octagonal, but filled up into a square by certain curious groups +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page082"></a>82</span> +of figures representing the trades of Venice. The three +courses below are octagonal, with their sides set across the +angles of the innermost octagon, Yb. The shafts are 15 feet +in circumference, and the lowest octagons of the base 56 (7 +feet each side).</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII.</span> Detached buildings, like our own Monument, are +not pillars, but towers built in imitation of Pillars. As towers +they are barbarous, being dark, inconvenient, and unsafe, +besides lying, and pretending to be what they are not. As +shafts they are barbarous, because they were designed at a time +when the Renaissance architects had introduced and forced into +acceptance, as <i>de rigueur</i>, a kind of columnar high-heeled shoe,—a +thing which they called a pedestal, and which is to a true +base exactly what a Greek actor’s cothurnus was to a Greek +gentleman’s sandal. But the Greek actor knew better, I believe, +than to exhibit or to decorate his cork sole; and, with +shafts as with heroes, it is rather better to put the sandal off +than the cothurnus on. There are, indeed, occasions on which +a pedestal may be necessary; it may be better to raise a shaft +from a sudden depression of plinth to a level with others, its +companions, by means of a pedestal, than to introduce a higher +shaft; or it may be better to place a shaft of alabaster, if +otherwise too short for our purpose, on a pedestal, than to use +a larger shaft of coarser material; but the pedestal is in each +case a make-shift, not an additional perfection. It may, in the +like manner, be sometimes convenient for men to walk on +stilts, but not to keep their stilts on as ornamental parts of +dress. The bases of the Nelson Column, the Monument, and +the column of the Place Vendôme, are to the shafts, exactly +what highly ornamented wooden legs would be to human +beings.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIX.</span> So far of bases of detached shafts. As we do not +yet know in what manner shafts are likely to be grouped, we +can say nothing of those of grouped shafts until we know more +of what they are to support.</p> + +<p>Lastly; we have throughout our reasoning upon the base +supposed the pier to be circular. But circumstances may occur +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page083"></a>83</span> +to prevent its being reduced to this form, and it may remain +square or rectangular; its base will then be simply the wall +base following its contour, and we have no spurs at the angles. +Thus much may serve respecting pier bases; we have next to +examine the concentration of the Wall Veil, or the Shaft.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_35" href="#FnAnchor_35"><span class="fn">35</span></a> The experiment is not quite fair in this rude fashion; for the small +rolls owe their increase of strength much more to their tubular form than +their aggregation of material; but if the paper be cut up into small strips, +and tied together firmly in three or four compact bundles, it will exhibit +increase of strength enough to show the principle. Vide, however, <a href="#app_16">Appendix +16</a>, “Strength of Shafts.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_36" href="#FnAnchor_36"><span class="fn">36</span></a> <a href="#app_17">Appendix 17</a>, “Answer to Mr. Garbett.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_37" href="#FnAnchor_37"><span class="fn">37</span></a> Yet more so than any other figure enclosed by a curved line: for the +circle, in its relations to its own centre, is the curve of greatest stability. +Compare § <span class="scs">XX.</span> of <a href="#chap_20">Chap. XX.</a></p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page084"></a>84</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_8"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + +<h5>THE SHAFT.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">We</span> have seen in the last Chapter how, in converting +the wall into the square or cylindrical shaft, we parted at every +change of form with some quantity of material. In proportion +to the quantity thus surrendered, is the necessity that what we +retain should be good of its kind, and well set together, since +everything now depends on it.</p> + +<p>It is clear also that the best material, and the closest concentration, +is that of the natural crystalline rocks; and that, by +having reduced our wall into the shape of shafts, we may be +enabled to avail ourselves of this better material, and to +exchange cemented bricks for crystallised blocks of stone. +Therefore, the general idea of a perfect shaft is that of a single +stone hewn into a form more or less elongated and cylindrical. +Under this form, or at least under the ruder one of a long +stone set upright, the conception of true shafts appears first +to have occurred to the human mind; for the reader must note +this carefully, once for all, it does not in the least follow that +the order of architectural features which is most reasonable in +their arrangement, is most probable in their invention. I have +theoretically deduced shafts from walls, but shafts were never +so reasoned out in architectural practice. The man who first +propped a thatched roof with poles was the discoverer of their +principle; and he who first hewed a long stone into a cylinder, +the perfecter of their practice.</p> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II.</span> It is clearly necessary that shafts of this kind (we will +call them, for convenience, <i>block</i> shafts) should be composed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page085"></a>85</span> +of stone not liable to flaws or fissures; and therefore that we +must no longer continue our argument as if it were always +possible to do what is to be done in the best way; for the +style of a national architecture may evidently depend, in great +measure, upon the nature of the rocks of the country.</p> + +<p>Our own English rocks, which supply excellent building +stone from their thin and easily divisible beds, are for the most +part entirely incapable of being worked into shafts of any size, +except only the granites and whinstones, whose hardness renders +them intractable for ordinary purposes;—and English +architecture therefore supplies no instances of the block shaft +applied on an extensive scale; while the facility of obtaining +large masses of marble has in Greece and Italy been partly the +cause of the adoption of certain noble types of architectural +form peculiar to those countries, or, when occurring elsewhere, +derived from them.</p> + +<p>We have not, however, in reducing our walls to shafts, calculated +on the probabilities of our obtaining better materials +than those of which the walls were built; and we shall therefore +first consider the form of shaft which will be best when +we have the best materials; and then consider how far we can +imitate, or how far it will be wise to imitate, this form with +any materials we can obtain.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. Now as I gave the reader the ground, and the stones, +that he might for himself find out how to build his wall, I +shall give him the block of marble, and the chisel, that he may +himself find out how to shape his column. Let him suppose +the elongated mass, so given him, rudely hewn to the thickness +which he has calculated will be proportioned to the weight it +has to carry. The conditions of stability will require that +some allowance be made in finishing it for any chance of slight +disturbance or subsidence of the ground below, and that, as +everything must depend on the uprightness of the shaft, as +little chance should be left as possible of its being thrown off +its balance. It will therefore be prudent to leave it slightly +thicker at the base than at the top. This excess of diameter at +the base being determined, the reader is to ask himself how +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page086"></a>86</span> +most easily and simply to smooth the column from one extremity +to the other. To cut it into a true straight-sided cone +would be a matter of much trouble and nicety, and would +incur the continual risk of chipping into it too deep. Why +not leave some room for a chance stroke, work it slightly, <i>very</i> +slightly convex, and smooth the curve by the eye between the +two extremities? you will save much trouble and time, and +the shaft will be all the stronger.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_13"><img src="images/img086.jpg" width="500" height="239" alt="Fig. XIII." title="Fig. XIII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>This is accordingly the natural form of a detached block +shaft. It is the best. No other will ever be so agreeable to +the mind or eye. I do not mean that it is not capable of +more refined execution, or of the application of some of the +laws of æsthetic beauty, but that it is the best recipient of +execution and subject of law; better in either case than if you +had taken more pains, and cut it straight.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. You will observe, however, that the convexity is to be +very slight, and that the shaft is not to <i>bulge</i> in the centre, but +to taper from the root in a curved line; the peculiar character +of the curve you will discern better by exaggerating, in a diagram, +the conditions of its sculpture.</p> + +<p>Let <i>a</i>, <i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>b,</i> at <span class="scs">A</span>, <a href="#fig_13">Fig. XIII.</a>, be the rough block of the +shaft, laid on the ground; and as thick as you can by any +chance require it to be; you will leave it of this full thickness +at its base at <span class="scs">A</span>, but at the other end you will mark off upon it +the diameter <i>c</i>, <i>d,</i> which you intend it to have at the summit; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page087"></a>87</span> +you will then take your mallet and chisel, and working from <i>c</i> +and <i>d</i> you will roughly knock off the corners, shaded in the +figure, so as to reduce the shaft to the figure described by the +inside lines in <span class="scs">A</span> and the outside lines in <span class="scs">B</span>; you then proceed +to smooth it, you chisel away the shaded parts in <span class="scs">B</span>, and leave +your finished shaft of the form of the <i>inside</i> lines <i>e</i>, <i>g</i>, <i>f</i>, <i>h</i>.</p> + +<p>The result of this operation will be of course that the shaft +tapers faster towards the top than it does near the ground. +Observe this carefully; it is a point of great future importance.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. So far of the shape of detached or block shafts. We +can carry the type no farther on merely structural considerations: +let us pass to the shaft of inferior materials.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, in practice, this step must be soon made. +It is alike difficult to obtain, transport, and raise, block shafts +more than ten or twelve feet long, except in remarkable positions, +and as pieces of singular magnificence. Large pillars +are therefore always composed of more than one block of +stone. Such pillars are either jointed like basalt columns, and +composed of solid pieces of stone set one above another; or +they are filled up <i>towers</i>, built of small stones cemented into +a mass, with more or less of regularity: Keep this distinction +carefully in mind, it is of great importance; for the jointed +column, every stone composing which, however thin, is (so to +speak) a complete <i>slice</i> of the shaft, is just as strong as the +block pillar of one stone, so long as no forces are brought into +action upon it which would have a tendency to cause horizontal +dislocation. But the pillar which is built as a filled-up +tower is of course liable to fissure in any direction, if its cement +give way.</p> + +<p>But, in either case, it is evident that all constructive reason +of the curved contour is at once destroyed. Far from being +an easy or natural procedure, the fitting of each portion of +the curve to its fellow, in the separate stones, would require +painful care and considerable masonic skill; while, in the case +of the filled-up tower, the curve outwards would be even +unsafe; for its greatest strength (and that the more in proportion +to its careless building) lies in its bark, or shell of outside +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page088"></a>88</span> +stone; and this, if curved outwards, would at once burst outwards, +if heavily loaded above.</p> + +<p>If, therefore, the curved outline be ever retained in such +shafts, it must be in obedience to æsthetic laws only.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. But farther. Not only the curvature, but even the +tapering by straight lines, would be somewhat difficult of +execution in the pieced column. Where, indeed, the entire +shaft is composed of four or five blocks set one upon another, +the diameters may be easily determined at the successive joints, +and the stones chiselled to the same slope. But this becomes +sufficiently troublesome when the joints are numerous, so that +the pillar is like a pile of cheeses; or when it is to be built of +small and irregular stones. We should be naturally led, in +the one case, to cut all the cheeses to the same diameter; in +the other to build by the plumb-line; and in both to give up +the tapering altogether.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. Farther. Since the chance, in the one case, of horizontal +dislocation, in the other, of irregular fissure, is much +increased by the composition of the shaft out of joints or +small stones, a larger bulk of shaft is required to carry the +given weight; and, <i>cæteris paribus</i>, jointed and cemented +shafts must be thicker in proportion to the weight they carry +than those which are of one block.</p> + +<p>We have here evidently natural causes of a very marked +division in schools of architecture: one group composed of +buildings whose shafts are either of a single stone or of few +joints; the shafts, therefore, being gracefully tapered, and +reduced by successive experiments to the narrowest possible +diameter proportioned to the weight they carry: and the other +group embracing those buildings whose shafts are of many +joints or of small stones; shafts which are therefore not +tapered, and rather thick and ponderous in proportion to the +weight they carry; the latter school being evidently somewhat +imperfect and inelegant as compared with the former.</p> + +<p>It may perhaps appear, also, that this arrangement of the +materials in cylindrical shafts at all would hardly have suggested +itself to a people who possessed no large blocks out of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page089"></a>89</span> +which to hew them; and that the shaft built of many pieces +is probably derived from, and imitative of the shaft hewn +from few or from one.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. If, therefore, you take a good geological map of +Europe, and lay your finger upon the spots where volcanic +influences supply either travertin or marble in accessible and +available masses, you will probably mark the points where +the types of the first school have been originated and developed. +If, in the next place, you will mark the districts where +broken and rugged basalt or whinstone, or slaty sandstone, +supply materials on easier terms indeed, but fragmentary and +unmanageable, you will probably distinguish some of the +birthplaces of the derivative and less graceful school. You +will, in the first case, lay your finger on Pæstum, Agrigentum, +and Athens; in the second, on Durham and Lindisfarne.</p> + +<p>The shafts of the great primal school are, indeed, in their +first form, as massy as those of the other, and the tendency +of both is to continual diminution of their diameters: but in +the first school it is a true diminution in the thickness of the +independent pier; in the last, it is an apparent diminution, +obtained by giving it the appearance of a group of minor +piers. The distinction, however, with which we are concerned +is not that of slenderness, but of vertical or curved contour; +and we may note generally that while throughout the whole +range of Northern work, the perpendicular shaft appears in +continually clearer development, throughout every group +which has inherited the spirit of the Greek, the shaft retains +its curved or tapered form; and the occurrence of the vertical +detached shaft may at all times, in European architecture, be +regarded as one of the most important collateral evidences of +Northern influence.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. It is necessary to limit this observation to European +architecture, because the Egyptian shaft is often untapered, +like the Northern. It appears that the Central Southern, or +Greek shaft, was tapered or curved on æsthetic rather than +constructive principles; and the Egyptian which precedes, and +the Northern which follows it, are both vertical, the one +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page090"></a>90</span> +because the best form had not been discovered, the other +because it could not be attained. Both are in a certain degree +barbaric; and both possess in combination and in their ornaments +a power altogether different from that of the Greek +shaft, and at least as impressive if not as admirable.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. We have hitherto spoken of shafts as if their number +were fixed, and only their diameter variable according to the +weight to be borne. But this supposition is evidently gratuitous; +for the same weight may be carried either by many +and slender, or by few and massy shafts. If the reader will +look back to <a href="#fig_9">Fig. IX.</a>, he will find the number of shafts into +which the wall was reduced to be dependent altogether upon +the length of the spaces <i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, &c., a length which was +arbitrarily fixed. We are at liberty to make these spaces of +what length we choose, and, in so doing, to increase the number +and diminish the diameter of the shafts, or <i>vice versâ</i>.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. Supposing the materials are in each case to be of the +same kind, the choice is in great part at the architect’s +discretion, only there is a limit on the one hand to the +multiplication of the slender shaft, in the inconvenience of the +narrowed interval, and on the other, to the enlargement of +the massy shaft, in the loss of breadth to the building.<a name="FnAnchor_38" href="#Footnote_38"><span class="sp">38</span></a> +That will be commonly the best proportion which is a natural +mean between the two limits; leaning to the side of grace or +of grandeur according to the expressional intention of the +work. I say, <i>commonly</i> the best, because, in some cases, this +expressional invention may prevail over all other considerations, +and a column of unnecessary bulk or fantastic slightness +be adopted in order to strike the spectator with awe or with +surprise.<a name="FnAnchor_39" href="#Footnote_39"><span class="sp">39</span></a> The architect is, however, rarely in practice compelled +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page091"></a>91</span> +to use one kind of material only; and his choice lies +frequently between the employment of a larger number of +solid and perfect small shafts, or a less number of pieced and +cemented large ones. It is often possible to obtain from +quarries near at hand, blocks which might be cut into shafts +eight or twelve feet long and four or five feet round, when +larger shafts can only be obtained in distant localities; and +the question then is between the perfection of smaller features +and the imperfection of larger. We shall find numberless +instances in Italy in which the first choice has been boldly, +and I think most wisely made; and magnificent buildings +have been composed of systems of small but perfect shafts, +multiplied and superimposed. So long as the idea of the +symmetry of a perfect shaft remained in the builder’s mind, +his choice could hardly be directed otherwise, and the adoption +of the built and tower-like shaft appears to have been the result +of a loss of this sense of symmetry consequent on the employment +of intractable materials.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. But farther: we have up to this point spoken of +shafts as always set in ranges, and at equal intervals from each +other. But there is no necessity for this; and material differences +may be made in their diameters if two or more be +grouped so as to do together the work of one large one, and +that within, or nearly within, the space which the larger one +would have occupied.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. Let <span class="scs">A, B, C,</span> <a href="#fig_14">Fig. XIV.</a>, be three surfaces, of which +<span class="scs">B</span> and <span class="scs">C</span> contain equal areas, and each of them double that of +<span class="scs">A</span>: then supposing them all loaded to the same height, <span class="scs">B</span> +or <span class="scs">C</span> would receive twice as much weight as <span class="scs">A</span>; therefore, +to carry <span class="scs">B</span> or <span class="scs">C</span> loaded, we should need a shaft of twice the +strength needed to carry <span class="scs">A</span>. Let <span class="scs">S</span> be the shaft required to +carry <span class="scs">A</span>, and <span class="scs">S<span class="su">2</span></span> the shaft required to carry <span class="scs">B</span> or <span class="scs">C</span>; then <span class="scs">S<span class="su">3</span></span> +may be divided into two shafts, or <span class="scs">S<span class="su">2</span></span> into four shafts, as at <span class="scs">S<span class="su">3</span></span>, +all equal in area or solid contents;<a name="FnAnchor_40" href="#Footnote_40"><span class="sp">40</span></a> and the mass <span class="scs">A</span> might be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page092"></a>92</span> +carried safely by two of +them, and the masses <span class="scs">B</span> +and <span class="scs">C</span>, each by four of +them.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XIV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_14"><img src="images/img092.jpg" width="350" height="863" alt="Fig. XIV." title="Fig. XIV." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>Now if we put the +single shafts each under +the centre of the mass +they have to bear, as represented +by the shaded +circles at <i>a</i>, <i>a</i><span class="su">2</span>, <i>a</i><span class="su">3</span>, the +masses <span class="scs">A</span> and <span class="scs">C</span> are both +of them very ill supported, +and even <span class="scs">B</span> insufficiently; +but apply the +four and the two shafts +as at <i>b</i>, <i>b</i><span class="su">2</span>, <i>b</i><span class="su">3</span>, and they +are supported satisfactorily. +Let the weight on +each of the masses be +doubled, and the shafts +doubled in area, then we +shall have such arrangements +as those at <i>c</i>, <i>c</i><span class="su">2</span>, <i>c</i><span class="su">3</span>; +and if again the shafts +and weight be doubled, +we shall have <i>d</i>, <i>d</i><span class="su">2</span>, <i>d</i><span class="su">3</span>.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. Now it will at +once be observed that the +arrangement of the shafts +in the series of <span class="scs">B</span> and <span class="scs">C</span> is +always exactly the same +in their relations to each +other; only the group of +<span class="scs">B</span> is set evenly, and the +group of <span class="scs">C</span> is set obliquely,—the one carrying a square, the +other a cross.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_15"><img src="images/img093.jpg" width="250" height="127" alt="Fig. XV." title="Fig. XV." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>You have in these two series the primal representations of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page093"></a>93</span> +shaft arrangement in the Southern and Northern schools; +while the group <i>b</i>, of which <i>b</i><span class="su">2</span> is the double, set evenly, and +<i>c</i><span class="su">2</span> the double, set obliquely, is common to both. The reader +will be surprised to find how all the complex and varied forms +of shaft arrangement will range themselves into one or other +of these groups; and still more surprised to find the oblique +or cross set system on the one hand, and the square set system +on the other, severally distinctive of Southern and Northern +work. The dome of St. Mark’s, and the crossing of the nave +and transepts of Beauvais, are both carried by square piers; +but the piers of St. Mark’s are set square to the walls of the +church, and those of Beauvais obliquely to them: and this +difference is even a more essential one than that between the +smooth surface of the one and the reedy complication of the +other. The two squares here in the margin (<a href="#fig_15">Fig. XV.</a>) are +exactly of the same size, but their +expression is altogether different, +and in that difference lies one of +the most subtle distinctions between +the Gothic and Greek spirit,—from +the shaft, which bears the +building, to the smallest decoration. +The Greek square is by preference set evenly, the Gothic +square obliquely; and that so constantly, that wherever we +find the level or even square occurring as a prevailing form, +either in plan or decoration, in early northern work, there we +may at least suspect the presence of a southern or Greek +influence; and, on the other hand, wherever the oblique +square is prominent in the south, we may confidently look for +farther evidence of the influence of the Gothic architects. +The rule must not of course be pressed far when, in either +school, there has been determined search for every possible +variety of decorative figures; and accidental circumstances +may reverse the usual system in special cases; but the evidence +drawn from this character is collaterally of the highest value, +and the tracing it out is a pursuit of singular interest. Thus, +the Pisan Romanesque might in an instant be pronounced to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page094"></a>94</span> +have been formed under some measure of Lombardic influence, +from the oblique squares set under its arches; and in +it we have the spirit of northern Gothic affecting details of +the southern;—obliquity of square, in magnificently shafted +Romanesque. At Monza, on the other hand, the levelled +square is the characteristic figure of the entire decoration of +the façade of the Duomo, eminently giving it southern character; +but the details are derived almost entirely from the +northern Gothic. Here then we have southern spirit and +northern detail. Of the cruciform outline of the load of the +shaft, a still more positive test of northern work, we shall +have more to say in the 28th Chapter; we must at present +note certain farther changes in the form of the grouped shaft, +which open the way to every branch of its endless combinations, +southern or northern.<span style="clear: both; "> </span> </p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XVI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_16"><img src="images/img094.jpg" width="250" height="461" alt="Fig. XVI." title="Fig. XVI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV</span>. 1. If the group at <i>d</i><span class="su">3</span>, <a href="#fig_14">Fig. XIV.</a>, be taken from under +its loading, and have its centre +filled up, it will become a quatrefoil; +and it will represent, +in their form of most frequent +occurrence, a family of shafts, +whose plans are foiled figures, +trefoils, quatrefoils, cinquefoils, +&c.; of which a trefoiled example, +from the Frari at Venice, is +the third in <a href="#plate_2">Plate II.</a>, and a +quatrefoil from Salisbury the +eighth. It is rare, however, to +find in Gothic architecture +shafts of this family composed +of a large number of foils, +because multifoiled shafts are +seldom true grouped shafts, but +are rather canaliculated conditions +of massy piers. The representatives +of this family may be +considered as the quatrefoil on the Gothic side of the Alps; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page095"></a>95</span> +and the Egyptian multifoiled shaft on the south, approximating +to the general type, <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_16">Fig. XVI.</a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. Exactly opposed to this great family is that of shafts +which have concave curves instead of convex on each of their +sides; but these are not, properly speaking, grouped shafts at +all, and their proper place is among decorated piers; only +they must be named here in order to mark their exact opposition +to the foiled system. In their simplest form, represented +by <i>c</i>, <a href="#fig_16">Fig. XVI.</a>, they have no representatives in good architecture, +being evidently weak and meagre; but approximations +to them exist in late Gothic, as in the vile cathedral of Orleans, +and in modern cast-iron shafts. In their fully developed form +they are the Greek Doric, <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_16">Fig. XVI.</a>, and occur in caprices +of the Romanesque and Italian Gothic: <i>d</i>, <a href="#fig_16">Fig. XVI.</a>, is from +the Duomo of Monza.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII</span>. 2. Between <i>c</i><span class="su">3</span> and <i>d</i><span class="su">3</span> of <a href="#fig_14">Fig. XIV.</a> there may be +evidently another condition, represented at 6, <a href="#plate_2">Plate II.</a>, and +formed by the insertion of a central shaft within the four +external ones. This central shaft we may suppose to expand +in proportion to the weight it has to carry. If the external +shafts expand in the same proportion, the entire form remains +unchanged; but if they do not expand, they may (1) be pushed +out by the expanding shaft, or (2) be gradually swallowed up +in its expansion, as at 4, <a href="#plate_2">Plate II.</a> If they are pushed out, they +are removed farther from each other by every increase of the +central shaft; and others may then be introduced in the vacant +spaces; giving, on the plan, a central orb with an ever increasing +host of satellites, 10, <a href="#plate_2">Plate II.</a>; the satellites themselves +often varying in size, and perhaps quitting contact with the +central shaft. Suppose them in any of their conditions fixed, +while the inner shaft expands, and they will be gradually buried +in it, forming more complicated conditions of 4, <a href="#plate_2">Plate II.</a> +The combinations are thus altogether infinite, even supposing +the central shaft to be circular only; but their infinity is multiplied +by many other infinities when the central shaft itself +becomes square or crosslet on the section, or itself multifoiled +(8, <a href="#plate_2">Plate II.</a>) with satellite shafts eddying about its recesses and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page096"></a>96</span> +angles, in every possible relation of attraction. Among these +endless conditions of change, the choice of the architect is free, +this only being generally noted: that, as the whole value of +such piers depends, first, upon their being wisely fitted to the +weight above them, and, secondly, upon their all working +together: and one not failing the rest, perhaps to the ruin of +all, he must never multiply shafts without visible cause in the +disposition of members superimposed:<a name="FnAnchor_41" href="#Footnote_41"><span class="sp">41</span></a> and in his multiplied +group he should, if possible, avoid a marked separation between +the large central shaft and its satellites; for if this exist, the +satellites will either appear useless altogether, or else, which is +worse, they will look as if they were meant to keep the central +shaft together by wiring or caging it in; like iron rods set +round a supple cylinder,—a fatal fault in the piers of Westminster +Abbey, and, in a less degree, in the noble nave of the +cathedral of Bourges.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII</span>. While, however, we have been thus subdividing or +assembling our shafts, how far has it been possible to retain +their curved or tapered outline? So long as they remain distinct +and equal, however close to each other, the independent +curvature may evidently be retained. But when once they +come in contact, it is equally evident that a column, formed of +shafts touching at the base and separate at the top, would +appear as if in the very act of splitting asunder. Hence, in all +the closely arranged groups, and especially those with a central +shaft, the tapering is sacrificed; and with less cause for regret, +because it was a provision against subsidence or distortion, +which cannot now take place with the separate members of +the group. Evidently, the work, if safe at all, must be executed +with far greater accuracy and stability when its supports +are so delicately arranged, than would be implied by such precaution. +In grouping shafts, therefore, a true perpendicular +line is, in nearly all cases, given to the pier; and the reader +will anticipate that the two schools, which we have already +found to be distinguished, the one by its perpendicular and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page097"></a>97</span> +pieced shafts, and the other by its curved and block shafts, will +be found divided also in their employment of grouped shafts;—it +is likely that the idea of grouping, however suggested, +will be fully entertained and acted upon by the one, but hesitatingly +by the other; and that we shall find, on the one hand, +buildings displaying sometimes massy piers of small stones, +sometimes clustered piers of rich complexity, and on the other, +more or less regular succession of block shafts, each treated as +entirely independent of those around it.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIX</span>. Farther, the grouping of shafts once admitted, it is +probable that the complexity and richness of such arrangements +would recommend them to the eye, and induce their frequent, +even their unnecessary introduction; so that weight which +might have been borne by a single pillar, would be in preference +supported by four or five. And if the stone of the +country, whose fragmentary character first occasioned the +building and piecing of the large pier, were yet in beds consistent +enough to supply shafts of very small diameter, the +strength and simplicity of such a construction might justify it, +as well as its grace. The fact, however, is that the charm +which the multiplication of line possesses for the eye has +always been one of the chief ends of the work in the grouped +schools; and that, so far from employing the grouped piers in +order to the introduction of very slender block shafts, the most +common form in which such piers occur is that of a solid +jointed shaft, each joint being separately cut into the contour +of the group required.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XX</span>. We have hitherto supposed that all grouped or clustered +shafts have been the result or the expression of an actual +gathering and binding together of detached shafts. This is +not, however, always so: for some clustered shafts are little +more than solid piers channelled on the surface, and their form +appears to be merely the development of some longitudinal +furrowing or striation on the original single shaft. That clustering +or striation, whichever we choose to call it, is in this +case a decorative feature, and to be considered under the head +of decoration.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXI</span>. It must be evident to the reader at a glance, that the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page098"></a>98</span> +real serviceableness of any of these grouped arrangements must +depend upon the relative shortness of the shafts, and that, +when the whole pier is so lofty that its minor members become +mere reeds or rods of stone, those minor members can no +longer be charged with any considerable weight. And the +fact is, that in the most complicated Gothic arrangements, +when the pier is tall and its satellites stand clear of it, no real +work is given them to do, and they might all be removed +without endangering the building. They are merely the <i>expression</i> +of a great consistent system, and are in architecture +what is often found in animal anatomy,—a bone, or process of +a bone, useless, under the ordained circumstances of its life, to +the particular animal in which it is found, and slightly developed, +but yet distinctly existent, and representing, for the sake +of absolute consistency, the same bone in its appointed, and +generally useful, place, either in skeletons of all animals, or in +the genus to which the animal itself belongs.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXII</span>. Farther: as it is not easy to obtain pieces of stone +long enough for these supplementary shafts (especially as it is +always unsafe to lay a stratified stone with its beds upright) +they have been frequently composed of two or more short +shafts set upon each other, and to conceal the unsightly junction, +a flat stone has been interposed, carved into certain +mouldings, which have the appearance of a ring on the shaft. +Now observe: the whole pier was the gathering of the whole +wall, the base gathers into base, the veil into the shaft, and +the string courses of the veil gather into these rings; and +when this is clearly expressed, and the rings do indeed correspond +with the string courses of the wall veil, they are perfectly +admissible and even beautiful; but otherwise, and +occurring, as they do in the shafts of Westminster, in the +middle of continuous lines, they are but sorry make-shifts, and +of late since gas has been invented, have become especially +offensive from their unlucky resemblance to the joints of gas-pipes, +or common water-pipes. There are two leaden ones, +for instance, on the left hand as one enters the abbey at Poet’s +Corner, with their solderings and funnels looking exactly like +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page099"></a>99</span> +rings and capitals, and most disrespectfully mimicking the +shafts of the abbey, inside.</p> + +<p>Thus far we have traced the probable conditions of shaft +structure in pure theory; I shall now lay before the reader +a brief statement of the facts of the thing in time past and +present.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIII</span>. In the earliest and grandest shaft architecture +which we know, that of Egypt, we have no grouped arrangements, +properly so called, but either single and smooth shafts, +or richly reeded and furrowed shafts, which represent the extreme +conditions of a complicated group bound together to +sustain a single mass; and are indeed, without doubt, nothing +else than imitations of bundles of reeds, or of clusters of lotus:<a name="FnAnchor_42" href="#Footnote_42"><span class="sp">42</span></a> +but in these shafts there is merely the idea of a group, not the +actual function or structure of a group; they are just as much +solid and simple shafts as those which are smooth, and merely +by the method of their decoration present to the eye the image +of a richly complex arrangement.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIV</span>. After these we have the Greek shaft, less in scale, +and losing all suggestion or purpose of suggestion of complexity, +its so-called flutings being, visibly as actually, an external +decoration.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXV</span>. The idea of the shaft remains absolutely single in +the Roman and Byzantine mind; but true grouping begins in +Christian architecture by the placing of two or more separate +shafts side by side, each having its own work to do; then three +or four, still with separate work; then, by such steps as those +above theoretically pursued, the number of the members increases, +while they coagulate into a single mass; and we have +finally a shaft apparently composed of thirty, forty, fifty, or +more distinct members; a shaft which, in the reality of its +service, is as much a single shaft as the old Egyptian one; but +which differs from the Egyptian in that all its members, how +many soever, have each individual work to do, and a separate +rib of arch or roof to carry: and thus the great Christian +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page100"></a>100</span> +truth of distinct services of the individual soul is typified in +the Christian shaft; and the old Egyptian servitude of the +multitudes, the servitude inseparable from the children of +Ham, is typified also in that ancient shaft of the Egyptians, +which in its gathered strength of the river reeds, seems, as the +sands of the desert drift over its ruin, to be intended to remind +us for ever of the end of the association of the wicked. “Can +the rush grow up without mire, or the flag grow without +water?—So are the paths of all that forget God; and the +hypocrite’s hope shall perish.”</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVI</span>. Let the reader then keep this distinction of the +three systems clearly in his mind: Egyptian system, an apparent +cluster supporting a simple capital and single weight; +Greek and Roman system, single shaft, single weight; +Gothic system, divided shafts, divided weight: at first actually +and simply divided, at last apparently and infinitely divided; +so that the fully formed Gothic shaft is a return to the Egyptian, +but the weight is divided in the one and undivided in the +other.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVII</span>. The transition from the actual to the apparent +cluster, in the Gothic, is a question of the most curious +interest; I have thrown together the shaft sections in <a href="#plate_2">Plate +II.</a> to illustrate it, and exemplify what has been generally +stated above.<a name="FnAnchor_43" href="#Footnote_43"><span class="sp">43</span></a></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">II.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_2"><img src="images/img100.jpg" width="409" height="650" alt="PLANS OF PIERS." title="PLANS OF PIERS." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">PLANS OF PIERS.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>1. The earliest, the most frequent, perhaps the most beautiful +of all the groups, is also the simplest; the two shafts arranged +as at <i>b</i> or <i>c</i>, (<a href="#fig_14">Fig. XIV.</a>) above, bearing an oblong mass, +and substituted for the still earlier structure <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_14">Fig. XIV.</a> In +<a href="#plate_17">Plate XVII.</a> (<a href="#chap_27">Chap. XXVII.</a>) are three examples of the transition: +the one on the left, at the top, is the earliest single-shafted +arrangement, constant in the rough Romanesque +windows; a huge hammer-shaped capital being employed to +sustain the thickness of the wall. It was rapidly superseded +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page101"></a>101</span> +by the double shaft, as on the right of it; a very early example +from the cloisters of the Duomo, Verona. Beneath, is a most +elaborate and perfect one from St. Zeno of Verona, where the +group is twice complicated, two shafts being used, both with +quatrefoil sections. The plain double shaft, however, is by +far the most frequent, both in the Northern and Southern +Gothic, but for the most part early; it is very frequent in +cloisters, and in the singular one of St. Michael’s Mount, Normandy, +a small pseudo-arcade runs along between the pairs of +shafts, a miniature aisle. The group is employed on a magnificent +scale, but ill proportioned, for the main piers of the +apse of the cathedral of Coutances, its purpose being to conceal +one shaft behind the other, and make it appear to the spectator +from the nave as if the apse were sustained by single shafts, of +inordinate slenderness. The attempt is ill-judged, and the result +unsatisfactory.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XVII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_17"><img src="images/img101.jpg" width="120" height="129" alt="Fig. XVII." title="Fig. XVII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVIII</span>. 2. When these pairs of shafts come near each +other, as frequently at the turnings of angles (<a href="#fig_17">Fig. XVII.</a>), +the quadruple group results, <i>b</i> 2, <a href="#fig_14">Fig. XIV.</a>, of +which the Lombardic sculptors were excessively +fond, usually tying the shafts together in their +centre, in a lover’s knot. They thus occur in +<a href="#plate_5">Plate V.</a>, from the Broletto of Como; at the +angle of St. Michele of Lucca, <a href="#plate_21">Plate XXI.</a>; +and in the balustrade of St. Mark’s. This is a group, however, +which I have never seen used on a large scale.<a name="FnAnchor_44" href="#Footnote_44"><span class="sp">44</span></a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIX</span>. 3. Such groups, consolidated by a small square in their +centre, form the shafts of St. Zeno, just spoken of, and figured +in <a href="#plate_17">Plate XVII.</a>, which are among the most interesting pieces +of work I know in Italy. I give their entire arrangement in +<a href="#fig_18">Fig. XVIII.</a>: both shafts have the same section, but one receives +a half turn as it ascends, giving it an exquisite spiral +contour: the plan of their bases, with their plinth, is given at +2, <a href="#plate_2">Plate II.</a>; and note it carefully, for it is an epitome of all +that we observed above, respecting the oblique and even square. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102"></a>102</span> +It was asserted that the oblique belonged to the north, the +even to the south: we have here the northern Lombardic +nation naturalised in Italy, and, behold, the oblique +and even quatrefoil linked together; not +confused, but actually linked by a bar of stone, as +seen in <a href="#plate_17">Plate XVII.</a>, under the capitals.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption">Fig. XVIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft1"> + <a name="fig_18"><img src="images/img102.jpg" width="120" height="403" alt="Fig. XVIII." title="Fig. XVIII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>4. Next to these, observe the two groups of +five shafts each, 5 and 6, <a href="#plate_2">Plate II.</a>, one oblique, +the other even. Both are from upper stories; +the oblique one from the triforium of Salisbury; +the even one from the upper range of shafts in +the façade of St. Mark’s at Venice.<a name="FnAnchor_45" href="#Footnote_45"><span class="sp">45</span></a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXX</span>. Around these central types are grouped, +in <a href="#plate_2">Plate II.</a>, four simple examples of the satellitic +cluster, all of the Northern Gothic: 4, from +the Cathedral of Amiens; 7, from that of Lyons +(nave pier); 8, the same from Salisbury; 10, +from the porch of Notre Dame, Dijon, having satellites of +three magnitudes: 9 is one of the piers between the doors of +the same church, with shafts of four magnitudes, and is an +instance of the confusion of mind of the Northern architects +between piers proper and jamb mouldings (noticed farther in +the next chapter, § <span class="scs">XXXI</span>.): for this fig. 9, which is an angle +at the meeting of two jambs, is treated like a rich independent +shaft, and the figure below, 12, which is half of a true shaft, +is treated like a meeting of jambs.</p> + +<p>All these four examples belonging to the oblique or Northern +system, the curious trefoil plan, 3, lies <i>between</i> the two, as +the double quatrefoil next it <i>unites</i> the two. The trefoil is +from the Frari, Venice, and has a richly worked capital in the +Byzantine manner,—an imitation, I think, of the Byzantine +work by the Gothic builders: 1 is to be compared with it, +being one of the earliest conditions of the cross shaft, from the +atrium of St. Ambrogio at Milan. 13 is the nave pier of St. +Michele at Pavia, showing the same condition more fully developed: +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page103"></a>103</span> +and 11 another nave pier from Vienne, on the Rhone, +of far more distinct Roman derivation, for the flat pilaster is +set to the nave, and is fluted like an antique one. 12 is the +grandest development I have ever seen of the cross shaft, +with satellite shafts in the nooks of it: it is half of one of +the great western piers of the cathedral of Bourges, measuring +eight feet each side, thirty-two round.<a name="FnAnchor_46" href="#Footnote_46"><span class="sp">46</span></a> Then the one below +(15) is half of a nave pier of Rouen Cathedral, showing the +mode in which such conditions as that of Dijon (9) and that of +Bourges (12) were fused together into forms of inextricable +complexity (inextricable I mean in the irregularity of proportion +and projection, for all of them are easily resolvable into +simple systems in connexion with the roof ribs). This pier +of Rouen is a type of the last condition of the good Gothic; +from this point the small shafts begin to lose shape, and run +into narrow fillets and ridges, projecting at the same time +farther and farther in weak tongue-like sections, as described +in the “Seven Lamps.” I have only here given one example +of this family, an unimportant but sufficiently characteristic +one (16) from St. Gervais of Falaise. One side of the nave of +that church is Norman, the other Flamboyant, and the two +piers 14 and 16 stand opposite each other. It would be useless +to endeavor to trace farther the fantasticism of the later +Gothic shafts; they become mere aggregations of mouldings +very sharply and finely cut, their bases at the same time running +together in strange complexity and their capitals diminishing +and disappearing. Some of their conditions, which, in their +rich striation, resemble crystals of beryl, are very massy and +grand; others, meagre, harsh, or effeminate in themselves, are +redeemed by richness and boldness of decoration; and I have +long had it in my mind to reason out the entire harmony of +this French Flamboyant system, and fix its types and possible +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page104"></a>104</span> +power. But this inquiry is foreign altogether to our present +purpose, and we shall therefore turn back from the Flamboyant +to the Norman side of the Falaise aisle, resolute for the future +that all shafts of which we may have the ordering, shall be +permitted, as with wisdom we may also permit men or cities, +to gather themselves into companies, or constellate themselves +into clusters, but not to fuse themselves into mere masses of +nebulous aggregation.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_38" href="#FnAnchor_38"><span class="fn">38</span></a> In saying this, it is assumed that the interval is one which is to be +traversed by men; and that a certain relation of the shafts and intervals to +the size of the human figure is therefore necessary. When shafts are used +in the upper stories of buildings, or on a scale which ignores all relation to +the human figure, no such relative limits exist either to slenderness or +solidity.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_39" href="#FnAnchor_39"><span class="fn">39</span></a> Vide the interesting discussion of this point in Mr. Fergusson’s account +of the Temple of Karnak, “Principles of Beauty in Art,” p. 219.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_40" href="#FnAnchor_40"><span class="fn">40</span></a> I have assumed that the strength of similar shafts of equal height is +as the squares of their diameters; which, though not actually a correct expression, +is sufficiently so for all our present purposes.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_41" href="#FnAnchor_41"><span class="fn">41</span></a> How far this condition limits the system of shaft grouping we shall see +presently. The reader must remember, that we at present reason respecting +shafts in the abstract only.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_42" href="#FnAnchor_42"><span class="fn">42</span></a> The capitals being formed by the flowers, or by a representation of the +bulging out of the reeds at the top, under the weight of the architrave.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_43" href="#FnAnchor_43"><span class="fn">43</span></a> I have not been at the pains to draw the complicated piers in this plate +with absolute exactitude to the scale of each: they are accurate enough for +their purpose: those of them respecting which we shall have farther question +will be given on a much larger scale.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_44" href="#FnAnchor_44"><span class="fn">44</span></a> The largest I remember support a monument in St. Zeno of Verona; +they are of red marble, some ten or twelve feet high.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_45" href="#FnAnchor_45"><span class="fn">45</span></a> The effect of this last is given in <a href="#plate_6">Plate VI.</a> of the folio series.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_46" href="#FnAnchor_46"><span class="fn">46</span></a> The entire development of this cross system in connexion with the +vaulting ribs, has been most clearly explained by Professor Willis (Architecture +of Mid. Ages, Chap. IV.); and I strongly recommend every reader +who is inclined to take pains in the matter, to read that chapter. I have +been contented, in my own text, to pursue the abstract idea of shaft form.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page105"></a>105</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_9"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h3> + +<h5>THE CAPITAL.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I.</span> <span class="sc">The</span> reader will remember that in <a href="#chap_7">Chap. VII.</a> § <span class="scs">V.</span> it +was said that the cornice of the wall, being cut to pieces and +gathered together, formed the capital of the column. We +have now to follow it in its transformation.</p> + +<p>We must, of course, take our simplest form or root of cornices +(<i>a</i>, in <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a>, above). We will take X and Y there, and +we must necessarily gather them together as we did Xb and Yb +in <a href="#chap_7">Chap. VII.</a> Look back to the tenth paragraph of <a href="#chap_7">Chap. +VII.</a>, read or glance it over again, substitute X and Y for Xb +and Yb, read capital for base, and, as we said that the capital +was the hand of the pillar, while the base was its foot, read +also fingers for toes; and as you look to the plate, <a href="#fig_12">Fig. XII.</a>, +turn it upside down. Then <i>h</i>, in <a href="#fig_12">Fig. XII.</a>, becomes now your +best general form of block capital, as before of block base.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II.</span> You will thus have a perfect idea of the analogies +between base and capital; our farther inquiry is into their +differences. You cannot but have noticed that when <a href="#fig_12">Fig. XII.</a> +is turned upside down, the square stone (Y) looks too heavy +for the supporting stone (X); and that in the profile of cornice +(<i>a</i> of <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a>) the proportions are altogether different. You +will feel the fitness of this in an instant when you consider +that the principal function of the sloping part in <a href="#fig_12">Fig. XII.</a> is +as a prop to the pillar to keep it from <i>slipping aside</i>; but the +function of the sloping stone in the cornice and capital is to +<i>carry weight above</i>. The thrust of the slope in the one case +should therefore be lateral, in the other upwards.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III.</span> We will, therefore, take the two figures, <i>e</i> and <i>h</i> of +<a href="#fig_12">Fig. XII.</a>, and make this change in them as we reverse them, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106"></a>106</span> +using now the exact profile of the cornice <i>a</i>,—the father of +cornices; and we shall thus have <i>a</i> and <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_19">Fig. XIX.</a></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XIX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_19"><img src="images/img106.jpg" width="650" height="351" alt="Fig. XIX." title="Fig. XIX." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>Both of these are +sufficiently ugly, +the reader thinks; +so do I; but we +will mend them before +we have done +with them: that at +<i>a</i> is assuredly the +ugliest,—like a tile +on a flower-pot. It +is, nevertheless, the +father of capitals; +being the simplest +condition of the +gathered father of +cornices. But it is +to be observed that +the diameter of the +shaft here is arbitrarily +assumed to +be small, in order +more clearly to +show the general +relations of the sloping +stone to the +shaft and upper +stone; and this +smallness of the +shaft diameter is inconsistent with the serviceableness and beauty +of the arrangement at <i>a</i>, if it were to be realised (as we shall +see presently); but it is not inconsistent with its central character, +as the representative of every species of possible capital; +nor is its tile and flower-pot look to be regretted, as it may +remind the reader of the reported origin of the Corinthian +capital. The stones of the cornice, hitherto called X and Y, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107"></a>107</span> +receive, now that they form the capital, each a separate name; +the sloping stone is called the Bell of the capital, and that laid +above it, the Abacus. Abacus means a board or tile: I wish +there were an English word for it, but I fear there is no substitution +possible, the term having been long fixed, and the reader +will find it convenient to familiarise himself with the Latin +one.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV.</span> The form of base, <i>e</i> of <a href="#fig_12">Fig. XII.</a>, which corresponds +to this first form of capital, <i>a,</i> was said to be objectionable only +because it <i>looked</i> insecure; and the spurs were added as a kind +of pledge of stability to the eye. But evidently the projecting +corners of the abacus at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_19">Fig. XIX.</a>, are <i>actually</i> insecure; +they may break off, if great weight be laid upon them. This +is the chief reason of the ugliness of the form; and the spurs +in <i>b</i> are now no mere pledges of apparent stability, but have +very serious practical use in supporting the angle of the abacus. +If, even with the added spur, the support seems insufficient, +we may fill up the crannies between the spurs and the bell, +and we have the form <i>c</i>.</p> + +<p>Thus <i>a</i>, though the germ and type of capitals, is itself +(except under some peculiar conditions) both ugly and insecure; +<i>b</i> is the first type of capitals which carry light weight; <i>c</i>, of +capitals which carry excessive weight.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V.</span> I fear, however, the reader may think he is going +slightly too fast, and may not like having the capital forced +upon him out of the cornice; but would prefer inventing a +capital for the shaft itself, without reference to the cornice at +all. We will do so then; though we shall come to the same +result.</p> + +<p>The shaft, it will be remembered, has to sustain the same +weight as the long piece of wall which was concentrated into +the shaft; it is enabled to do this both by its better form and +better knit materials; and it can carry a greater weight than +the space at the top of it is adapted to receive. The first point, +therefore, is to expand this space as far as possible, and that in +a form more convenient than the circle for the adjustment of +the stones above. In general the square is a more convenient +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108"></a>108</span> +form than any other; but the hexagon or octagon is sometimes +better fitted for masses of work which divide in six or eight +directions. Then our first impulse would be to put a square +or hexagonal stone on the top of the +shaft, projecting as far beyond it as +might be safely ventured; as at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_20">Fig. +XX.</a> This is the abacus. Our next idea +would be to put a conical shaped stone +beneath this abacus, to support its outer +edge, as at <i>b</i>. This is the bell.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_20"><img src="images/img108.jpg" width="250" height="455" alt="Fig. XX." title="Fig. XX." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI.</span> Now the entire treatment of the +capital depends simply on the manner in +which this bell-stone is prepared for fitting +the shaft below and the abacus above. +Placed as at <i>a</i>, in <a href="#fig_19">Fig. XIX.</a>, it gives us +the simplest of possible forms; with the +spurs added, as at <i>b</i>, it gives the germ of +the richest and most elaborate forms: but +there are two modes of treatment more dexterous than the one, +and less elaborate than the other, which are of the highest +possible importance,—modes in which the bell is brought to its +proper form by truncation.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII.</span> Let <i>d</i> and <i>f</i>, <a href="#fig_19">Fig. XIX.</a>, be two bell-stones; <i>d</i> is part +of a cone (a sugar-loaf upside down, with its point cut off); <i>f</i> +part of a four-sided pyramid. Then, assuming the abacus to +be square, <i>d</i> will already fit the shaft, but has to be chiselled +to fit the abacus; <i>f</i> will already fit the abacus, but has to be +chiselled to fit the shaft.</p> + +<p>From the broad end of <i>d</i> chop or chisel off, in four vertical +planes, as much as will leave its head an exact square. The +vertical cuttings will form curves on the sides of the cone +(curves of a curious kind, which the reader need not be troubled +to examine), and we shall have the form at <i>e</i>, which is the root +of the greater number of Norman capitals.</p> + +<p>From <i>f</i> cut off the angles, beginning at the corners of the +square and widening the truncation downwards, so as to give +the form at <i>g</i>, where the base of the bell is an octagon, and its +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page109"></a>109</span> +top remains a square. A very slight rounding away of the +angles of the octagon at the base of <i>g</i> will enable it to fit the +circular shaft closely enough for all practical purposes, and this +form, at <i>g</i>, is the root of nearly all Lombardic capitals.</p> + +<p>If, instead of a square, the head of the bell were hexagonal +or octagonal, the operation of cutting would be the same on +each angle; but there would be produced, of course, six or +eight curves on the sides of <i>e</i>, and twelve or sixteen sides to +the base of <i>g</i>.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_21"><img src="images/img109.jpg" width="200" height="186" alt="Fig. XXI." title="Fig. XXI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII.</span> The truncations in <i>e</i> and <i>g</i> may of course be executed +on concave or convex forms of <i>d</i> and <i>f</i>; but <i>e</i> is usually +worked on a straight-sided bell, and the +truncation of <i>g</i> often becomes concave +while the bell remains straight; for this +simple reason,—that the sharp points at the +angles of <i>g</i>, being somewhat difficult to cut, +and easily broken off, are usually avoided +by beginning the truncation a little way +down the side of the bell, and then recovering +the lost ground by a deeper cut inwards, as here, <a href="#fig_21">Fig. XXI.</a> +This is the actual form of the capitals of the balustrades of St. +Mark’s: it is the root of all the Byzantine Arab capitals, and +of all the most beautiful capitals in the world, whose function +is to express lightness.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX.</span> We have hitherto proceeded entirely on the assumption +that the form of cornice which was gathered together to produce +the capital was the root of cornices, <i>a</i> of <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a> But +this, it will be remembered, was said in § <span class="scs">VI.</span> of <a href="#chap_6">Chap. VI.</a> to +be especially characteristic of southern work, and that in northern +and wet climates it took the form of a dripstone.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, in the northern climates, the dripstone gathered +together forms a peculiar northern capital, commonly called +the Early English,<a name="FnAnchor_47" href="#Footnote_47"><span class="sp">47</span></a> owing to its especial use in that style.</p> + +<p>There would have been no absurdity in this if shafts were +always to be exposed to the weather; but in Gothic constructions +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110"></a>110</span> +the most important shafts are in the inside of the building. +The dripstone sections of their capitals are therefore unnecessary +and ridiculous.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X.</span> They are, however, much worse than unnecessary.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_22"><img src="images/img110.jpg" width="650" height="139" alt="Fig. XXII." title="Fig. XXII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>The edge of the dripstone, being undercut, has no bearing +power, and the capital fails, therefore, in +its own principal function; and besides +this, the undercut contour admits of no +distinctly visible decoration; it is, therefore, +left utterly barren, and the capital +looks as if it had been turned in a lathe. +The Early English capital has, therefore, +the three greatest faults that any design +can have: (1) it fails in its own proper +purpose, that of support; (2) it is adapted +to a purpose to which it can never be put, +that of keeping off rain; (3) it cannot be +decorated.</p> + +<p>The Early English capital is, therefore, +a barbarism of triple grossness, and degrades +the style in which it is found, +otherwise very noble, to one of second-rate +order.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI.</span> Dismissing, therefore, the Early +English capital, as deserving no place in +our system, let us reassemble in one view +the forms which have been legitimately +developed, and which are to become hereafter +subjects of decoration. To the forms +<i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, and <i>c</i>, <a href="#fig_19">Fig. XIX.</a>, we must add the +two simplest truncated forms <i>e</i> and <i>g</i>, <a href="#fig_19">Fig. +XIX.</a>, putting their abaci on them (as we +considered their contours in the bells only), +and we shall have the five forms now given in parallel perspective +in <a href="#fig_22">Fig. XXII.</a>, which are the roots of all good capitals +existing, or capable of existence, and whose variations, +infinite and a thousand times infinite, are all produced by +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111"></a>111</span> +introduction of various curvatures into their contours, and the +endless methods of decoration superinduced on such curvatures.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII.</span> There is, however, a kind of variation, also infinite, +which takes place in these radical forms, before they receive +either curvature or decoration. This is the variety of proportion +borne by the different lines of the capital to each other, +and to the shafts. This is a structural question, at present to +be considered as far as is possible.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_23"><img src="images/img111.jpg" width="500" height="299" alt="Fig. XXIII." title="Fig. XXIII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII.</span> All the five capitals (which are indeed five orders +with legitimate distinction; very different, however, from the +five orders as commonly understood) may be represented by +the same profile, a section through the sides of <i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>d</i>, and <i>e</i>, +or through the angles of <i>c</i>, <a href="#fig_22">Fig. XXII.</a> This profile we will +put on the top of a shaft, as at A, <a href="#fig_23">Fig. XXIII.</a>, which shaft +we will suppose of equal diameter above and below for the +sake of greater simplicity: in this simplest condition, however, +relations of proportion exist between five quantities, any +one or any two, or any three, or any four of which may change, +irrespective of the others. These five quantities are:</p> + +<p class="nomarg">1. The height of the shaft, <i>a b</i>;</p> +<p class="nomarg">2. Its diameter, <i>b c</i>; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page112"></a>112</span></p> +<p class="nomarg">3. The length of slope of bell, <i>b d</i>;</p> +<p class="nomarg">4. The inclination of this slope, or angle <i>c b d</i>;</p> +<p class="nomarg">5. The depth of abacus, <i>d e</i>.</p> + +<p>For every change in any one of these quantities we have +a new proportion of capital: five infinities, supposing change +only in one quantity at a time: infinity of infinities in the sum +of possible changes.</p> + +<p>It is, therefore, only possible to note the general laws of +change; every scale of pillar, and every weight laid upon it +admitting, within certain limits, a variety out of which the +architect has his choice; but yet fixing limits which the proportion +becomes ugly when it approaches, and dangerous +when it exceeds. But the inquiry into this subject is too +difficult for the general reader, and I shall content myself with +proving four laws, easily understood and generally applicable; +for proof of which if the said reader care not, he may miss the +next four paragraphs without harm.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV.</span> 1. <i>The more slender the shaft, the greater, proportionally, +may be the projection of the abacus.</i> For, looking +back to <a href="#fig_23">Fig. XXIII.</a>, let the height <i>a b</i> be fixed, the length +<i>d b</i>, the angle <i>d b c</i>, and the depth <i>d e</i>. Let the single quantity +<i>b c</i> be variable, let B be a capital and shaft which are found to +be perfectly safe in proportion to the weight they bear, and +let the weight be equally distributed over the whole of the +abacus. Then this weight may be represented by any number +of equal divisions, suppose four, as <i>l</i>, <i>m</i>, <i>n</i>, <i>r</i>, of brickwork +above, of which each division is one fourth of the whole +weight; and let this weight be placed in the most trying way +on the abacus, that is to say, let the masses <i>l</i> and <i>r</i> be detached +from <i>m</i> and <i>n</i>, and bear with their full weight on the outside of +the capital. We assume, in B, that the width of abacus <i>e f</i> is +twice as great as that of the shaft, <i>b c,</i> and on these conditions +we assume the capital to be safe.</p> + +<p>But <i>b c</i> is allowed to be variable. Let it become <i>b</i><span class="su">2</span> <i>c</i><span class="su">2</span> at C, +which is a length representing about the diameter of a shaft +containing half the substance of the shaft B, and, therefore, +able to sustain not more than half the weight sustained by B. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113"></a>113</span> +But the slope <i>b d</i> and depth <i>d e</i> remaining unchanged, we have +the capital of C, which we are to load with only half the +weight of <i>l</i>, <i>m</i>, <i>n</i>, <i>r</i>, i. e., with <i>l</i> and <i>r</i> alone. Therefore the +weight of <i>l</i> and <i>r</i>, now represented by the masses <i>l</i><span class="su">2</span>, <i>r</i><span class="su">2</span>, is distributed +over the whole of the capital. But the weight <i>r</i> was +adequately supported by the projecting piece of the first capital +<i>h f c</i>: much more is it now adequately supported by <i>i h</i>, +<i>f</i><span class="su">2</span> <i>c</i><span class="su">2</span>. Therefore, if the capital of B was safe, that of C is +more than safe. Now in B the length <i>e f</i> was only twice <i>b c</i>; +but in C, <i>e</i><span class="su">2</span> <i>f</i><span class="su">2</span> will be found more than twice that of <i>b</i><span class="su">2</span> <i>c</i><span class="su">2</span>. +Therefore, the more slender the shaft, the greater may be the +proportional excess of the abacus over its diameter.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXIV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_24"><img src="images/img113.jpg" width="500" height="147" alt="Fig. XXIV." title="Fig. XXIV." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV.</span> 2. <i>The smaller the scale of the building, the greater +may be the excess of the abacus over the diameter of the shaft.</i> +This principle requires, I think, no very lengthy proof: the +reader can understand at once that the cohesion and strength +of stone which can sustain a small projecting mass, will not +sustain a vast one overhanging in the same proportion. A +bank even of loose earth, six feet high, will sometimes overhang +its base a foot or two, as you may see any day in the +gravelly banks of the lanes of Hampstead: but make the bank +of gravel, equally loose, six hundred feet high, and see if you +can get it to overhang a hundred or two! much more if there +be weight above it increased in the same proportion. Hence, +let any capital be given, whose projection is just safe, and no +more, on its existing scale; increase its proportions every way +equally, though ever so little, and it is unsafe; diminish them +equally, and it becomes safe in the exact degree of the +diminution.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page114"></a>114</span></p> + +<p>Let, then, the quantity <i>e d</i>, and angle <i>d b c</i>, at A of <a href="#fig_23">Fig. +XXIII.</a>, be invariable, and let the length <i>d b</i> vary: then we +shall have such a series of forms as may be represented by +<i>a, b, c,</i> <a href="#fig_24">Fig. XXIV.</a>, of which <i>a</i> is a proportion for a colossal +building, <i>b</i> for a moderately sized building, while <i>c</i> could only +be admitted on a very small scale indeed.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. 3. <i>The greater the excess of abacus, the steeper must +be the slope of the bell, the shaft diameter being constant.</i></p> + +<p>This will evidently follow from the considerations in the +last paragraph; supposing only that, instead of the scale of +shaft and capital varying together, the scale of the capital varies +alone. For it will then still be true, that, if the projection of +the capital be just safe on a given scale, +as its excess over the shaft diameter +increases, the projection will be unsafe, +if the slope of the bell remain constant. +But it may be rendered safe by making +this slope steeper, and so increasing its +supporting power.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_25"><img src="images/img114.jpg" width="250" height="518" alt="Fig. XXV." title="Fig. XXV." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>Thus let the capital <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_25">Fig. XXV.</a>, +be just safe. Then the capital <i>b</i>, in +which the slope is the same but the +excess greater, is unsafe. But the capital +<i>c</i>, in which, though the excess equals +that of <i>b</i>, the steepness of the supporting +slope is increased, will be as safe as +<i>b</i>, and probably as strong as <i>a</i>.<a name="FnAnchor_48" href="#Footnote_48"><span class="sp">48</span></a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII</span>. 4. <i>The steeper the slope of the bell, the thinner may +be the abacus.</i></p> + +<p>The use of the abacus is eminently to equalise the pressure +over the surface of the bell, so that the weight may not by +any accident be directed exclusively upon its edges. In proportion +to the strength of these edges, this function of the +abacus is superseded, and these edges are strong in proportion +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115"></a>115</span> +to the steepness of the slope. Thus in <a href="#fig_26">Fig. XXVI.</a>, the bell +at <i>a</i> would carry weight safely enough without any abacus, +but that at <i>c</i> would not: it would probably +have its edges broken off. The +abacus superimposed might be on <i>a</i> +very thin, little more than formal, as at +<i>b</i>; but on <i>c</i> must be thick, as at <i>d</i>.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXVI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_26"><img src="images/img115.jpg" width="200" height="222" alt="Fig. XXVI." title="Fig. XXVI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII</span>. These four rules are all that +are necessary for general criticism; and +observe that these are only semi-imperative,—rules +of permission, not of compulsion. +Thus Law 1 asserts that the +slender shaft <i>may</i> have greater excess of capital than the +thick shaft; but it need not, unless the architect chooses; his +thick shafts <i>must</i> have small excess, but his slender ones +need not have large. So Law 2 says, that as the building is +smaller, the excess <i>may</i> be greater; but it need not, for the +excess which is safe in the large is still safer in the small. So +Law 3 says that capitals of great excess must have steep +slopes; but it does not say that capitals of small excess may +not have steep slopes also, if we choose. And lastly, Law 4 +asserts the necessity of the thick abacus for the shallow bell; +but the steep bell may have a thick abacus also.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIX</span>. It will be found, however, that in practice some confession +of these laws will always be useful, and especially of +the two first. The eye always requires, on a slender shaft, a +more spreading capital than it does on a massy one, and a +bolder mass of capital on a small scale than on a large. And, +in the application of the first rule, it is to be noted that a shaft +becomes slender either by diminution of diameter or increase +of height; that either mode of change presupposes the weight +above it diminished, and requires an expansion of abacus. I +know no mode of spoiling a noble building more frequent in +actual practice than the imposition of flat and slightly expanded +capitals on tall shafts.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XX</span>. The reader must observe, also, that, in the demonstration +of the four laws, I always assumed the weight above to be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116"></a>116</span> +given. By the alteration of this weight, therefore, the architect +has it in his power to relieve, and therefore alter, the forms +of his capitals. By its various distribution on their centres or +edges, the slope of their bells and thickness of abaci will be +affected also; so that he has countless expedients at his command +for the various treatment of his design. He can divide +his weights among more shafts; he can throw them in different +places and different directions on the abaci; he can alter slope +of bells or diameter of shafts; he can use spurred or plain bells, +thin or thick abaci; and all these changes admitting of infinity +in their degrees, and infinity a thousand times told in their +relations: and all this without reference to decoration, merely +with the five forms of block capital!</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXI</span>. In the harmony of these arrangements, in their fitness, +unity, and accuracy, lies the true proportion of every +building,—proportion utterly endless in its infinities of change, +with unchanged beauty. And yet this connexion of the frame +of their building into one harmony has, I believe, never been +so much as dreamed of by architects. It has been instinctively +done in some degree by many, empirically in some degree by +many more; thoughtfully and thoroughly, I believe, by none.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXII</span>. We have hitherto considered the abacus as necessarily +a separate stone from the bell: evidently, however, the +strength of the capital will be undiminished if both are cut out +of one block. This is actually the case in many capitals, especially +those on a small scale; and in others the detached upper +stone is a mere representative of the abacus, and is much thinner +than the form of the capital requires, while the true abacus +is united with the bell, and concealed by its decoration, or +made part of it.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIII</span>. Farther. We have hitherto considered bell and +abacus as both derived from the concentration of the cornice. +But it must at once occur to the reader, that the projection of +the under stone and the thickness of the upper, which are quite +enough for the work of the continuous cornice, may not be +enough always, or rather are seldom likely to be so, for the +harder work of the capital. Both may have to be deepened +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117"></a>117</span> +and expanded: but as this would cause a want of harmony in +the parts, when they occur on the same level, it is better in +such case to let the <i>entire</i> cornice form the abacus of the capital, +and put a deep capital bell beneath it.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXVII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_27"><img src="images/img117.jpg" width="300" height="457" alt="Fig. XXVII." title="Fig. XXVII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIV</span>. The reader will understand both arrangements instantly +by two examples. <a href="#fig_27">Fig. XXVII.</a> represents two windows, +more than usually beautiful +examples of a very frequent +Venetian form. Here the +deep cornice or string course +which runs along the wall +of the house is quite strong +enough for the work of the +capitals of the slender shafts: +its own upper stone is therefore +also theirs; its own lower +stone, by its revolution or +concentration, forms their +bells: but to mark the increased +importance of its function +in so doing, it receives decoration, +as the bell of the capital, +which it did not receive +as the under stone of the +cornice.</p> + +<p>In <a href="#fig_28">Fig. XXVIII.</a>, a little bit of the church of Santa Fosca +at Torcello, the cornice or string course, which goes round +every part of the church, is not strong enough to form the +capitals of the shafts. It therefore forms their abaci only; +and in order to mark the diminished importance of its function, +it ceases to receive, as the abacus of the capital, the +decoration which it received as the string course of the +wall.</p> + +<p>This last arrangement is of great frequency in Venice, +occurring most characteristically in St. Mark’s: and in the +Gothic of St. John and Paul we find the two arrangements +beautifully united, though in great simplicity; the string +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118"></a>118</span> +courses of the walls form the capitals of the shafts of the traceries; +and the abaci of the vaulting shafts of the apse.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXVIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_28"><img src="images/img118.jpg" width="450" height="346" alt="Fig. XXVIII." title="Fig. XXVIII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXV</span>. We have hitherto spoken of capitals of circular +shafts only: those of square piers are more frequently formed +by the cornice only; otherwise they are like those of circular +piers, without the difficulty of reconciling the base of the bell +with its head.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVI</span>. When two or more shafts are grouped together, +their capitals are usually treated as separate, until they come +into actual contact. If there be any awkwardness in the +junction, it is concealed by the decoration, and one abacus +serves, in most cases, for all. The double group, <a href="#fig_27">Fig. XXVII.</a>, +is the simplest possible type of the arrangement. In the richer +Northern Gothic groups of eighteen or twenty shafts cluster +together, and sometimes the smaller shafts crouch under the +capitals of the larger, and hide their heads in the crannies, with +small nominal abaci of their own, while the larger shafts carry +the serviceable abacus of the whole pier, as in the nave of Rouen. +There is, however, evident sacrifice of sound principle in +this system, the smaller abaci being of no use. They are the +exact contrary of the rude early abacus at Milan, given in <a href="#plate_17">Plate XVII.</a> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119"></a>119</span> +There one poor abacus stretched itself out to do all the +work: here there are idle abaci getting up into corners and +doing none.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVII</span>. Finally, we have considered the capital hitherto +entirely as an expansion of the bearing power of the shaft, +supposing the shaft composed of a single stone. But, evidently, +the capital has a function, if possible, yet more important, +when the shaft is composed of small masonry. It enables all +that masonry to act together, and to receive the pressure from +above collectively and with a single strength. And thus, considered +merely as a large stone set on the top of the shaft, it is +a feature of the highest architectural importance, irrespective +of its expansion, which indeed is, in some very noble capitals, +exceedingly small. And thus every large stone set at any +important point to reassemble the force of smaller masonry and +prepare it for the sustaining of weight, is a capital or “head” +stone (the true meaning of the word) whether it project or not. +Thus at 6, in <a href="#plate_4">Plate IV.</a>, the stones which support the thrust of +the brickwork are capitals, which have no projection at all; +and the large stones in the window above are capitals projecting +in one direction only.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVIII</span>. The reader is now master of all he need know +respecting construction of capitals; and from what has been +laid before him, must assuredly feel that there can never be +any new system of architectural forms invented; but that all +vertical support must be, to the end of time, best obtained by +shafts and capitals. It has been so obtained by nearly every +nation of builders, with more or less refinement in the management +of the details; and the later Gothic builders of the North +stand almost alone in their effort to dispense with the natural +development of the shaft, and banish the capital from their +compositions.</p> + +<p>They were gradually led into this error through a series of +steps which it is not here our business to trace. But they may +be generalised in a few words.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIX</span>. All classical architecture, and the Romanesque +which is legitimately descended from it, is composed of bold +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120"></a>120</span> +independent shafts, plain or fluted, with bold detached capitals, +forming arcades or colonnades where they are needed; and of +walls whose apertures are surrounded by courses of parallel +lines called mouldings, which are continuous round the apertures, +and have neither shafts nor capitals. The shaft system +and moulding system are entirely separate.</p> + +<p>The Gothic architects confounded the two. They clustered +the shafts till they looked like a group of mouldings. They +shod and capitaled the mouldings till they looked like a group +of shafts. So that a pier became merely the side of a door or +window rolled up, and the side of the window a pier unrolled +(vide last Chapter, § <span class="scs">XXX</span>.), both being composed of a series of +small shafts, each with base and capital. The architect seemed +to have whole mats of shafts at his disposal, like the rush mats +which one puts under cream cheese. If he wanted a great pier +he rolled up the mat; if he wanted the side of a door he spread +out the mat: and now the reader has to add to the other distinctions +between the Egyptian and the Gothic shaft, already +noted in § <span class="scs">XXVI</span>. of <a href="#chap_8">Chap. VIII.</a>, this one more—the most important +of all—that while the Egyptian rush cluster has only +one massive capital altogether, the Gothic rush mat has a separate +tiny capital to every several rush.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXX</span>. The mats were gradually made of finer rushes, until +it became troublesome to give each rush its capital. In fact, +when the groups of shafts became excessively complicated, +the expansion of their small abaci was of no use: it was dispensed +with altogether, and the mouldings of pier and jamb +ran up continuously into the arches.</p> + +<p>This condition, though in many respects faulty and false, +is yet the eminently characteristic state of Gothic: it is the +definite formation of it as a distinct style, owing no farther aid +to classical models; and its lightness and complexity render it, +when well treated, and enriched with Flamboyant decoration, +a very glorious means of picturesque effect. It is, in fact, this +form of Gothic which commends itself most easily to the general +mind, and which has suggested the innumerable foolish +theories about the derivation of Gothic from tree trunks and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page121"></a>121</span> +avenues, which have from time to time been brought forward +by persons ignorant of the history of architecture.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXI</span>. When the sense of picturesqueness, as well as that +of justness and dignity, had been lost, the spring of the continuous +mouldings was replaced by what Professor Willis calls +the Discontinuous impost; which, being a barbarism of the +basest and most painful kind, and being to architecture what +the setting of a saw is to music, I shall not trouble the reader +to examine. For it is not in my plan to note for him all the +various conditions of error, but only to guide him to the appreciation +of the right; and I only note even the true Continuous +or Flamboyant Gothic because this is redeemed by its beautiful +decoration, afterwards to be considered. For, as far as structure +is concerned, the moment the capital vanishes from the +shaft, that moment we are in error: all good Gothic has true +capitals to the shafts of its jambs and traceries, and all Gothic +is debased the instant the shaft vanishes. It matters not how +slender, or how small, or how low, the shaft may be: wherever +there is indication of concentrated vertical support, then the +capital is a necessary termination. I know how much Gothic, +otherwise beautiful, this sweeping principle condemns; but it +condemns not altogether. We may still take delight in its +lovely proportions, its rich decoration, or its elastic and reedy +moulding; but be assured, wherever shafts, or any approximations +to the forms of shafts, are employed, for whatever office, +or on whatever scale, be it in jambs or piers, or balustrades, or +traceries, without capitals, there is a defiance of the natural +laws of construction; and that, wherever such examples are +found in ancient buildings, they are either the experiments of +barbarism, or the commencements of decline.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_47" href="#FnAnchor_47"><span class="fn">47</span></a> <a href="#app_19">Appendix 19</a>, “Early English Capitals.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_48" href="#FnAnchor_48"><span class="fn">48</span></a> In this case the weight borne is supposed to increase as the abacus +widens; the illustration would have been clearer if I had assumed the +breadth of abacus to be constant, and that of the shaft to vary.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page122"></a>122</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_10" id="chap_10"></a>CHAPTER X.</h3> + +<h5>THE ARCH LINE.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">We</span> have seen in the last section how our means of vertical +support may, for the sake of economy both of space and +material, be gathered into piers or shafts, and directed to the +sustaining of particular points. The next question is how to +connect these points or tops of shafts with each other, so as to +be able to lay on them a continuous roof. This the reader, as +before, is to favor me by finding out for himself, under these +following conditions.</p> + +<p>Let <i>s</i>, <i>s</i>, <a href="#fig_29">Fig. XXIX</a>. opposite, be two shafts, with their +capitals ready prepared for their work; and <i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>b</i>, and +<i>c</i>, <i>c</i>, <i>c</i>, be six stones of different sizes, one very long and large, +and two smaller, and three smaller still, of which the reader is +to choose which he likes best, in order to connect the tops of +the shafts.</p> + +<p>I suppose he will first try if he can lift the great stone <i>a</i>, +and if he can, he will put it very simply on the tops of the two +pillars, as at A.</p> + +<p>Very well indeed: he has done already what a number of +Greek architects have been thought very clever for having +done. But suppose he <i>cannot</i> lift the great stone <i>a</i>, or suppose +I will not give it to him, but only the two smaller stones at +<i>b</i>, <i>b</i>; he will doubtless try to put them up, tilted against each +other, as at <i>d</i>. Very awkward this; worse than card-house +building. But if he cuts off the corners of the stones, so as to +make each of them of the form <i>e</i>, they will stand up very +securely, as at B.</p> + +<p>But suppose he cannot lift even these less stones, but can +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page123"></a>123</span> +raise those at <i>c</i>, <i>c</i>, <i>c</i>. Then, cutting each of them into the +form at <i>e</i>, he will doubtless set them up as at <i>f</i>.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXIX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_29" id="fig_29"><img src="images/img123.jpg" width="500" height="615" alt="Fig. XXIX." title="Fig. XXIX." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. This last arrangement looks a little dangerous. Is +there not a chance of the stone in the middle pushing the +others out, or tilting them up and aside, and slipping down +itself between them? There is such a chance: and if by somewhat +altering the form of the stones, we can diminish this +chance, all the better. I must say “we” now, for perhaps I +may have to help the reader a little.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page124"></a>124</span></p> + +<p>The danger is, observe, that the midmost stone at <i>f</i> pushes +out the side ones: then if we can give the side ones such a +shape as that, left to themselves, they would fall heavily forward, +they will resist this push <i>out</i> by their weight, exactly in +proportion to their own particular inclination or desire to tumble +<i>in</i>. Take one of them separately, standing up as at <i>g</i>; it +is just possible it may stand up as it is, like the Tower of Pisa: +but we want it to fall forward. Suppose we cut away the +parts that are shaded at <i>h</i> and leave it as at <i>i</i>, it is very certain +it cannot stand alone now, but will fall forward to our entire +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Farther: the midmost stone at <i>f</i> is likely to be troublesome +chiefly by its weight, pushing down between the others; the +more we lighten it the better: so we will cut it into exactly +the same shape as the side ones, chiselling away the shaded +parts, as at <i>h</i>. We shall then have all the three stones <i>k</i>, <i>l</i>, <i>m</i>, +of the same shape; and now putting them together, we have, +at C, what the reader, I doubt not, will perceive at once to be +a much more satisfactory arrangement than that at <i>f</i>.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. We have now got three arrangements; in one using +only one piece of stone, in the second two, and in the third +three. The first arrangement has no particular name, except +the “horizontal:” but the single stone (or beam, it may be,) is +called a lintel; the second arrangement is called a “Gable;” +the third an “Arch.”</p> + +<p>We might have used pieces of wood instead of stone in all +these arrangements, with no difference in plan, so long as the +beams were kept loose, like the stones; but as beams can be +securely nailed together at the ends, we need not trouble ourselves +so much about their shape or balance, and therefore the +plan at <i>f</i> is a peculiarly wooden construction (the reader will +doubtless recognise in it the profile of many a farm-house +roof): and again, because beams are tough, and light, and long, +as compared with stones, they are admirably adapted for the +constructions at A and B, the plain lintel and gable, while that +at C is, for the most part, left to brick and stone.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. But farther. The constructions, A, B, and C, though +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page125"></a>125</span> +very conveniently to be first considered as composed of one, +two, and three pieces, are by no means necessarily so. When +we have once cut the stones of the arch into a shape like that +of <i>k</i>, <i>l</i>, and <i>m</i>, they will hold together, whatever their number, +place, or size, as at <i>n</i>; and the great value of the arch is, +that it permits small stones to be used with safety instead of +large ones, which are not always to be had. Stones cut into +the shape of <i>k</i>, <i>l</i>, and <i>m</i>, whether they be short or long (I +have drawn them all sizes at <i>n</i> on purpose), are called Voussoirs; +this is a hard, ugly French name; but the reader will +perhaps be kind enough to recollect it; it will save us both +some trouble: and to make amends for this infliction, I will +relieve him of the term <i>keystone</i>. One voussoir is as much a +keystone as another; only people usually call the stone which +is last put in the keystone; and that one happens generally to +be at the top or middle of the arch.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. Not only the arch, but even the lintel, may be built of +many stones or bricks. The reader may see lintels built in this +way over most of the windows of our brick London houses, and +so also the gable: there are, therefore, two distinct questions +respecting each arrangement;—First, what is the line or direction +of it, which gives it its strength? and, secondly, what is the +manner of masonry of it, which gives it its consistence? The +first of these I shall consider in this Chapter under the head +of the Arch Line, using the term arch as including all manner +of construction (though we shall have no trouble except +about curves); and in the next Chapter I shall consider the +second, under the head, Arch Masonry.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. Now the arch line is the ghost or skeleton of the arch; +or rather it is the spinal marrow of the arch, and the voussoirs +are the vertebræ, which keep it safe and sound, and clothe it. +This arch line the architect has first to conceive and shape in +his mind, as opposed to, or having to bear, certain forces +which will try to distort it this way and that; and against +which he is first to direct and bend the line itself into as strong +resistance as he may, and then, with his voussoirs and what else +he can, to guard it, and help it, and keep it to its duty and in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page126"></a>126</span> +its shape. So the arch line is the moral character of the arch, +and the adverse forces are its temptations; and the voussoirs, +and what else we may help it with, are its armor and its +motives to good conduct.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. This moral character of the arch is called by architects +its “Line of Resistance.” There is a great deal of nicety +in calculating it with precision, just as there is sometimes in +finding out very precisely what is a man’s true line of moral +conduct; but this, in arch morality and in man morality, is a +very simple and easily to be understood principle,—that if +either arch or man expose themselves to their special temptations +or adverse forces, <i>outside</i> of the voussoirs or proper +and appointed armor, both will fall. An arch whose line of +resistance is in the middle of its voussoirs is perfectly safe: +in proportion as the said line runs near the edge of its voussoirs, +the arch is in danger, as the man is who nears temptation; and +the moment the line of resistance emerges out of the voussoirs +the arch falls.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. There are, therefore, properly speaking, two arch +lines. One is the visible direction or curve of the arch, which +may generally be considered as the under edge of its voussoirs, +and which has often no more to do with the real stability of +the arch, than a man’s apparent conduct has with his heart. +The other line, which is the line of resistance, or line of good +behavior, may or may not be consistent with the outward and +apparent curves of the arch; but if not, then the security of +the arch depends simply upon this, whether the voussoirs +which assume or pretend to the one line are wide enough to +include the other.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. Now when the reader is told that the line of resistance +varies with every change either in place or quantity of the +weight above the arch, he will see at once that we have no +chance of arranging arches by their moral characters: we can +only take the apparent arch line, or visible direction, as a +ground of arrangement. We shall consider the possible or +probable forms or contours of arches in the present Chapter, +and in the succeeding one the forms of voussoir and other help +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page127"></a>127</span> +which may best fortify these visible lines against every temptation +to lose their consistency.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_30"><img src="images/img127.jpg" width="350" height="239" alt="Fig. XXX." title="Fig. XXX." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. Look back to <a href="#fig_29">Fig. XXIX.</a> Evidently the abstract or +ghost line of the arrangement at A is a plain horizontal line, +as here at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_30">Fig. XXX.</a> The abstract line of the arrangement +at B, <a href="#fig_29">Fig. XXIX.</a>, is composed of two straight lines, set +against each other, as here at <i>b</i>. The abstract line of C, +<a href="#fig_29">Fig. XXIX.</a>, is a curve +of some kind, not at +present determined, suppose +<i>c</i>, <a href="#fig_30">Fig. XXX.</a> +Then, as <i>b</i> is two of the +straight lines at <i>a</i>, set up +against each other, we +may conceive an arrangement, +<i>d</i>, made up of two +of the curved lines at <i>c</i>, +set against each other. +This is called a pointed arch, which is a contradiction in terms: +it ought to be called a curved gable; but it must keep the +name it has got.</p> + +<p>Now <i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>c</i>, <i>d</i>, <a href="#fig_30">Fig. XXX.</a>, are the ghosts of the lintel, the +gable, the arch, and the pointed arch. With the poor lintel +ghost we need trouble ourselves no farther; there are no +changes in him: but there is much variety in the other three, +and the method of their variety will be best discerned by +studying <i>b</i> and <i>d</i>, as subordinate to and connected with the +simple arch at <i>c</i>.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. Many architects, especially the worst, have been very +curious in designing out of the way arches,—elliptical arches, +and four-centred arches, so called, and other singularities. The +good architects have generally been content, and we for the +present will be so, with God’s arch, the arch of the rainbow +and of the apparent heaven, and which the sun shapes for +us as it sets and rises. Let us watch the sun for a moment as +it climbs: when it is a quarter up, it will give us the arch <i>a</i>, +<a href="#fig_31">Fig. XXXI.</a>; when it is half up, <i>b</i>, and when three quarters +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page128"></a>128</span> +up, <i>c</i>. There will be an infinite number of arches between +these, but we will take these as sufficient representatives of all. +Then <i>a</i> is the low arch, <i>b</i> the central or pure arch, <i>c</i> the high +arch, and the rays of the sun would have drawn for us their +voussoirs.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. We will take these several arches successively, and +fixing the top of each accurately, draw two right lines thence +to its base, <i>d</i>, <i>e</i>, <i>f</i>, <a href="#fig_31">Fig. XXXI.</a> Then these lines give us the +relative gables of each of the arches; <i>d</i> is the Italian or +southern gable, <i>e</i> the central gable, <i>f</i> the Gothic gable.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXXI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_31"><img src="images/img128.jpg" width="500" height="427" alt="Fig. XXXI." title="Fig. XXXI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. We will again take the three arches with their +gables in succession, and on each of the sides of the gable, +between it and the arch, we will describe another arch, as at +<i>g</i>, <i>h</i>, <i>i</i>. Then the curves so described give the pointed arches +belonging to each of the round arches; <i>g</i>, the flat pointed +arch, <i>h</i>, the central pointed arch, and <i>i</i>, the lancet pointed +arch.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. If the radius with which these intermediate curves +are drawn be the base of <i>f</i>, the last is the equilateral pointed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129"></a>129</span> +arch, one of great importance in Gothic work. But between +the gable and circle, in all the three figures, there are an infinite +number of pointed arches, describable with different radii; +and the three round arches, be it remembered, are themselves +representatives of an infinite number, passing from the flattest +conceivable curve, through the semicircle and horseshoe, up to +the full circle.</p> + +<p>The central and the last group are the most important. +The central round, or semicircle, is the Roman, the Byzantine, +and Norman arch; and its relative pointed includes one wide +branch of Gothic. The horseshoe round is the Arabic and +Moorish arch, and its relative pointed includes the whole range +of Arabic and lancet, or Early English and French Gothics. +I mean of course by the relative pointed, the entire group of +which the equilateral arch is the representative. +Between it and the outer horseshoe, as this latter +rises higher, the reader will find, on experiment, +the great families of what may be called the +horseshoe pointed,—curves of the highest importance, +but which are all included, with English +lancet, under the term, relative pointed of the horseshoe arch.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXXII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_32"><img src="images/img129.jpg" width="120" height="101" alt="Fig. XXXII." title="Fig. XXXII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV</span>. The groups above described are all formed of circular +arcs, and include all truly useful and beautiful arches for ordinary +work. I believe that singular and complicated curves are +made use of in modern engineering, but with these the general +reader can have no concern: the Ponte della Trinita at Florence +is the most graceful instance I know of such structure; the +arch made use of being very subtle, and approximating to the +low ellipse; for which, in common work, a barbarous pointed +arch, called four-centred, and composed of bits of circles, is +substituted by the English builders. The high ellipse, I believe, +exists in eastern architecture. I have never myself met with +it on a large scale; but it occurs in the niches of the later portions +of the Ducal palace at Venice, together with a singular +hyperbolic arch, <i>a</i> in <a href="#fig_33">Fig. XXXIII.</a>, to be described hereafter: +with such caprices we are not here concerned.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. We are, however, concerned to notice the absurdity +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130"></a>130</span> +of another form of arch, which, with the four-centred, belongs +to the English perpendicular Gothic.</p> + +<p>Taking the gable of any of the groups in <a href="#fig_31">Fig. XXXI.</a> +(suppose the equilateral), here at <i>b</i>, in <a href="#fig_33">Fig. XXXIII.</a>, the +dotted line representing the relative pointed arch, we may +evidently conceive an arch formed by reversed curves on the +inside of the gable, as here shown by the inner curved lines. +I imagine the reader by this time knows enough of the nature +of arches to understand that, whatever strength or stability +was gained by the curve on the <i>outside</i> of the gable, exactly +so much is lost by curves on the <i>inside</i>. The natural tendency +of such an arch to dissolution by its own mere weight renders +it a feature of detestable ugliness, wherever it occurs on a large +scale. It is eminently characteristic of Tudor work, and it is +the profile of the Chinese roof (I say on a large scale, because +this as well as all other capricious arches, may be made secure +by their masonry when small, but not otherwise). Some allowable +modifications of it will be noticed in the chapter on Roofs.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXXIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_33"><img src="images/img130.jpg" width="500" height="127" alt="Fig. XXXIII." title="Fig. XXXIII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII</span>. There is only one more form of arch which we have +to notice. When the last described arch is used, not as the +principal arrangement, but as a mere heading to a common +pointed arch, we have the form <i>c</i>, <a href="#fig_33">Fig. XXXIII.</a> Now this is +better than the entirely reversed arch for two reasons; first, +less of the line is weakened by reversing; secondly, the double +curve has a very high æsthetic value, not existing in the mere +segments of circles. For these reasons arches of this kind are +not only admissible, but even of great desirableness, when +their scale and masonry render them secure, but above a certain +scale they are altogether barbarous; and, with the reversed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page131"></a>131</span> +Tudor arch, wantonly employed, are the characteristics of the +worst and meanest schools of architecture, past or present.</p> + +<p>This double curve is called the Ogee; it is the profile of +many German leaden roofs, of many Turkish domes (there +more excusable, because associated and in sympathy with exquisitely +managed arches of the same line in the walls below), +of Tudor turrets, as in Henry the Seventh’s Chapel, and it is +at the bottom or top of sundry other blunders all over the +world.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII</span>. The varieties of the ogee curve are infinite, as the +reversed portion of it may be engrafted on every other form +of arch, horseshoe, round, or pointed. Whatever is generally +worthy of note in these varieties, and in other arches of +caprice, we shall best discover by examining their masonry; for +it is by their good masonry only that they are rendered either +stable or beautiful. To this question, then, let us address ourselves.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page132"></a>132</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_11" id="chap_11"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h3> + +<h5>THE ARCH MASONRY.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">On</span> the subject of the stability of arches, volumes have +been written and volumes more are required. The reader +will not, therefore, expect from me any very complete explanation +of its conditions within the limits of a single chapter. +But that which is necessary for him to know is very simple +and very easy; and yet, I believe, some part of it is very little +known, or noticed.</p> + +<p>We must first have a clear idea of what is meant by an +arch. It is a curved <i>shell</i> of firm materials, on whose back a +burden is to be laid of <i>loose</i> materials. So far as the materials +above it are <i>not loose</i>, but themselves hold together, the opening +below is not an arch, but an <i>excavation</i>. Note this difference +very carefully. If the King of Sardinia tunnels through +the Mont Cenis, as he proposes, he will not require to build +a brick arch under his tunnel to carry the weight of the +Mont Cenis: that would need scientific masonry indeed. +The Mont Cenis will carry itself, by its own cohesion, and a +succession of invisible granite arches, rather larger than the +tunnel. But when Mr. Brunel tunnelled the Thames bottom, +he needed to build a brick arch to carry the six or seven feet +of mud and the weight of water above. That is a type of all +arches proper.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. Now arches, in practice, partake of the nature of the +two. So far as their masonry above is Mont-Cenisian, that is +to say, colossal in comparison of them, and granitic, so that +the arch is a mere hole in the rock substance of it, the form +of the arch is of no consequence whatever: it may be rounded, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page133"></a>133</span> +or lozenged, or ogee’d, or anything else; and in the noblest +architecture there is always <i>some</i> character of this kind given +to the masonry. It is independent enough not to care about +the holes cut in it, and does not subside into them like sand. +But the theory of arches does not presume on any such condition +of things; it allows itself only the shell of the arch +proper; the vertebræ, carrying their marrow of resistance; +and, above this shell, it assumes the wall to be in a state of +flux, bearing down on the arch, like water or sand, with its +whole weight. And farther, the problem which is to be +solved by the arch builder is not merely to carry this weight, +but to carry it with the least thickness of shell. It is easy to +carry it by continually thickening your voussoirs: if you have +six feet depth of sand or gravel to carry, and you choose to +employ granite voussoirs six feet thick, no question but your +arch is safe enough. But it is perhaps somewhat too costly: +the thing to be done is to carry the sand or gravel with brick +voussoirs, six inches thick, or, at any rate, with the least +thickness of voussoir which will be safe; and to do this requires +peculiar arrangement of the lines of the arch. There +are many arrangements, useful all in their way, but we have +only to do, in the best architecture, with the simplest and +most easily understood. We have first to note those which +regard the actual shell of the arch, and then we shall give a +few examples of the superseding of such expedients by Mont-Cenisian +masonry.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. What we have to say will apply to all arches, but the +central pointed arch is the best for general illustration. Let +<i>a</i>, <a href="#plate_3">Plate III.</a>, be the shell of a pointed arch with loose loading +above; and suppose you find that shell not quite thick enough; +and that the weight bears too heavily on the top of the arch, +and is likely to break it in: you proceed to thicken your shell, +but need you thicken it all equally? Not so; you would only +waste your good voussoirs. If you have any common sense +you will thicken it at the top, where a Mylodon’s skull is +thickened for the same purpose (and some human skulls, I +fancy), as at <i>b</i>. The pebbles and gravel above will now shoot +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134"></a>134</span> +off it right and left, as the bullets do off a cuirassier’s breastplate, +and will have no chance of beating it in.</p> + +<p>If still it be not strong enough, a farther addition may be +made, as at <i>c</i>, now thickening the voussoirs a little at the base +also. But as this may perhaps throw the arch inconveniently +high, or occasion a waste of voussoirs at the top, we may +employ another expedient.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. I imagine the reader’s common sense, if not his previous +knowledge, will enable him to understand that if the +arch at <i>a</i>, <a href="#plate_3">Plate III.</a>, burst <i>in</i> at the top, it must burst <i>out</i> at +the sides. Set up two pieces of pasteboard, edge to edge, and +press them down with your hand, and you will see them bend +out at the sides. Therefore, if you can keep the arch from +starting out at the points <i>p</i>, <i>p</i>, it <i>cannot</i> curve in at the top, +put what weight on it you will, unless by sheer crushing of the +stones to fragments.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. Now you may keep the arch from starting out at <i>p</i> by +loading it at <i>p</i>, putting more weight upon it and against it at +that point; and this, in practice, is the way it is usually done. +But we assume at present that the weight above is sand or +water, quite unmanageable, not to be directed to the points +we choose; and in practice, it may sometimes happen that +we cannot put weight upon the arch at <i>p</i>. We may perhaps +want an opening above it, or it may be at the side of the +building, and many other circumstances may occur to hinder +us.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. But if we are not sure that we can put weight above +it, we are perfectly sure that we can hang weight under it. +You may always thicken your shell inside, and put the weight +upon it as at <i>x x</i>, in <i>d</i>, <a href="#plate_3">Plate III.</a> Not much chance of its +bursting out at <i>p</i>, now, is there?</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. Whenever, therefore, an arch has to bear vertical +pressure, it will bear it better when its shell is shaped as at <i>b</i> +or <i>d</i>, than as at <i>a: b</i> and <i>d</i> are, therefore, the types of arches +built to resist vertical pressure, all over the world, and from +the beginning of architecture to its end. None others can +be compared with them: all are imperfect except these.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page135"></a>135</span></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">III.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_3"><img src="images/img134.jpg" width="395" height="650" alt="ARCH MASONRY." title="ARCH MASONRY." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">ARCH MASONRY.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>The added projections at <i>x x</i>, in <i>d</i>, are called <span class="sc">Cusps</span>, and +they are the very soul and life of the best northern Gothic; +yet never thoroughly understood nor found in perfection, +except in Italy, the northern builders working often, even in +the best times, with the vulgar form at <i>a</i>.</p> + +<p>The form at <i>b</i> is rarely found in the north: its perfection +is in the Lombardic Gothic; and branches of it, good and bad +according to their use, occur in Saracenic work.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. The true and perfect cusp is single only. But it +was probably invented (by the Arabs?) not as a constructive, +but a decorative feature, in pure fantasy; and in early northern +work it is only the application to the arch of the foliation, so +called, of penetrated spaces in stone surfaces, already enough +explained in the “Seven Lamps,” Chap. III., p. 85 <i>et seq.</i> It +is degraded in dignity, and loses its usefulness, exactly in +proportion to its multiplication on the arch. In later architecture, +especially English Tudor, it is sunk into dotage, and +becomes a simple excrescence, a bit of stone pinched up out of +the arch, as a cook pinches the paste at the edge of a pie.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. The depth and place of the cusp, that is to say, its +exact application to the shoulder of the curve of the arch, +varies with the direction of the weight to be sustained. I have +spent more than a month, and that in hard work too, in merely +trying to get the forms of cusps into perfect order: whereby +the reader may guess that I have not space to go into the +subject now; but I shall hereafter give a few of the leading +and most perfect examples, with their measures and masonry.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. The reader now understands all that he need about the +shell of the arch, considered as an united piece of stone.</p> + +<p>He has next to consider the shape of the voussoirs. This, +as much as is required, he will be able best to comprehend by +a few examples; by which I shall be able also to illustrate, or +rather which will force me to illustrate, some of the methods +of Mont-Cenisian masonry, which were to be the second part +of our subject.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. 1 and 2, <a href="#plate_4">Plate IV.</a>, are two cornices; 1 from St. +Antonio, Padua; 2, from the Cathedral of Sens. I want them +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page136"></a>136</span> +for cornices; but I have put them in this plate because, though +their arches are filled up behind, and are in fact mere blocks +of stone with arches cut into their faces, they illustrate the constant +masonry of small arches, both in Italian and Northern +Romanesque, but especially Italian, each arch being cut out +of its own proper block of stone: this is Mont-Cenisian enough, +on a small scale.</p> + +<p>3 is a window from Carnarvon Castle, and very primitive +and interesting in manner,—one of its arches being of one +stone, the other of two. And here we have an instance of a +form of arch which would be barbarous enough on a large +scale, and of many pieces; but quaint and agreeable thus massively +built.</p> + +<p>4 is from a little belfry in a Swiss village above Vevay; one +fancies the window of an absurd form, seen in the distance, +but one is pleased with it on seeing its masonry. It could +hardly be stronger.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. These then are arches cut of one block. The next +step is to form them of two pieces, set together at the head +of the arch. 6, from the Eremitani, Padua, is very quaint +and primitive in manner: it is a curious church altogether, +and has some strange traceries cut out of single blocks. One +is given in the “Seven Lamps,” <a href="#plate_7">Plate VII.</a>, in the left-hand +corner at the bottom.</p> + +<p>7, from the Frari, Venice, very firm and fine, and admirably +decorated, as we shall see hereafter. 5, the simple two-pieced +construction, wrought with the most exquisite proportion and +precision of workmanship, as is everything else in the glorious +church to which it belongs, San Fermo of Verona. The +addition of the top piece, which completes the circle, does not +affect the plan of the beautiful arches, with their simple and +perfect cusps; but it is highly curious, and serves to show how +the idea of the cusp rose out of mere foliation. The whole of +the architecture of this church may be characterised as exhibiting +the maxima of simplicity in construction, and perfection in +workmanship,—a rare unison: for, in general, simple designs +are rudely worked, and as the builder perfects his execution, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page137"></a>137</span> +he complicates his plan. Nearly all the arches of San Fermo +are two-pieced.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">IV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_4"><img src="images/img137.jpg" width="380" height="650" alt="ARCH MASONRY." title="ARCH MASONRY." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">ARCH MASONRY.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. We have seen the construction with one and two +pieces: <i>a</i> and <i>b</i>, Fig. 8, <a href="#plate_4">Plate IV.</a>, are the general types of +the construction with three pieces, uncusped and cusped; <i>c</i> +and <i>d</i> with five pieces, uncusped and cusped. Of these the +three-pieced construction is of enormous importance, and must +detain us some time. The five-pieced is the three-pieced with +a joint added on each side, and is also of great importance. +The four-pieced, which is the two-pieced with added joints, +rarely occurs, and need not detain us.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. It will be remembered that in first working out the +principle of the arch, we composed the arch of three pieces. +Three is the smallest number which can exhibit the real <i>principle</i> +of arch masonry, and it may be considered as representative +of all arches built on that principle; the one and two-pieced +arches being microscopic Mont-Cenisian, mere caves +in blocks of stone, or gaps between two rocks leaning together.</p> + +<p>But the three-pieced arch is properly representative of all; +and the larger and more complicated constructions are merely +produced by keeping the central piece for what is called a +keystone, and putting additional joints at the sides. Now so +long as an arch is pure circular or pointed, it does not matter +how many joints or voussoirs you have, nor where the +joints are; nay, you may joint your keystone itself, and make +it two-pieced. But if the arch be of any bizarre form, especially +ogee, the joints must be in particular places, and the +masonry simple, or it will not be thoroughly good and secure; +and the fine schools of the ogee arch have only arisen in +countries where it was the custom to build arches of few pieces.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV</span>. The typical pure pointed arch of Venice is a five-pieced +arch, with its stones in three orders of magnitude, the +longest being the lowest, as at <i>b</i><span class="su">2</span>, <a href="#plate_3">Plate III.</a> If the arch be very +large, a fourth order of magnitude is added, as at <i>a</i><span class="su">2</span>. The +portals of the palaces of Venice have one or other of these +masonries, almost without exception. Now, as one piece is +added to make a larger door, one piece is taken away to make +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page138"></a>138</span> +a smaller one, or a window, and the masonry type of the +Venetian Gothic window is consequently three-pieced, <i>c</i><span class="su">2</span>.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. The reader knows already where a cusp is useful. +It is wanted, he will remember, to give weight to those side +stones, and draw them inwards against the thrust of the top +stone. Take one of the side stones of <i>c</i><span class="su">2</span> out for a moment, as +at <i>d</i>. Now the <i>proper</i> place of the cusp upon it varies with +the weight which it bears or requires; but in practice this +nicety is rarely observed; the place of the cusp is almost always +determined by æsthetic considerations, and it is evident that +the variations in its place may be infinite. Consider the cusp +as a wave passing up the side stone from its bottom to its top; +then you will have the succession of forms from <i>e</i> to <i>g</i> (<a href="#plate_3">Plate +III.</a>), with infinite degrees of transition from each to each; +but of which you may take <i>e</i>, <i>f</i>, and <i>g</i>, as representing three +great families of cusped arches. Use <i>e</i> for your side stones, +and you have an arch as that at <i>h</i> below, which may be called +a down-cusped arch. Use <i>f</i> for the side stone, and you have +<i>i</i>, which may be called a mid-cusped arch. Use <i>g</i>, and you +have <i>k</i>, an up-cusped arch.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII</span>. The reader will observe that I call the arch mid-cusped, +not when the cusped point is in the middle of the +curve of the arch, but when it is in the middle of the <i>side +piece</i>, and also that where the side pieces join the keystone +there will be a change, perhaps somewhat abrupt, in the curvature.</p> + +<p>I have preferred to call the arch mid-cusped with respect +to its side piece than with respect to its own curve, because +the most beautiful Gothic arches in the world, those of the +Lombard Gothic, have, in all the instances I have examined, +a form more or less approximating to this mid-cusped one at +<i>i</i> (<a href="#plate_3">Plate III.</a>), but having the curvature of the cusp carried +up into the keystone, as we shall see presently: where, however, +the arch is built of many voussoirs, a mid-cusped arch +will mean one which has the point of the cusp midway between +its own base and apex.</p> + +<p>The Gothic arch of Venice is almost invariably up-cusped, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page139"></a>139</span> +as at <i>k</i>. The reader may note that, in both down-cusped and +up-cusped arches, the piece of stone, added to form the cusp, +is of the shape of a scymitar, held down in the one case and +up in the other.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII</span>. Now, in the arches <i>h</i>, <i>i</i>, <i>k</i>, a slight modification has +been made in the form of the central piece, in order that it +may continue the curve of the cusp. This modification is not +to be given to it in practice without considerable nicety of +workmanship; and some curious results took place in Venice +from this difficulty.</p> + +<p>At <i>l</i> (<a href="#plate_3">Plate III.</a>) is the shape of the Venetian side stone, +with its cusp detached from the arch. Nothing can possibly +be better or more graceful, or have the weight better disposed +in order to cause it to nod forwards against the keystone, as +above explained, Ch. X. § <span class="scs">II</span>., where I developed the whole +system of the arch from three pieces, in order that the reader +might now clearly see the use of the weight of the cusp.</p> + +<p>Now a Venetian Gothic palace has usually at least three +stories; with perhaps ten or twelve windows in each story, +and this on two or three of its sides, requiring altogether some +hundred to a hundred and fifty side pieces.</p> + +<p>I have no doubt, from observation of the way the windows +are set together, that the side pieces were carved in pairs, like +hooks, of which the keystones were to be the eyes; that these +side pieces were ordered by the architect in the gross, and +were used by him sometimes for wider, sometimes for narrower +windows; bevelling the two ends as required, fitting in keystones +as he best could, and now and then varying the arrangement +by turning the side pieces <i>upside down</i>.</p> + +<p>There were various conveniences in this way of working, +one of the principal being that the side pieces with their cusps +were always cut to their complete form, and that no part of the +cusp was carried out into the keystone, which followed the +curve of the outer arch itself. The ornaments of the cusp +might thus be worked without any troublesome reference to +the rest of the arch.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIX</span>. Now let us take a pair of side pieces, made to order, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page140"></a>140</span> +like that at <i>l</i>, and see what we can make of them. We will +try to fit them first with a keystone which continues the curve +of the outer arch, as at <i>m</i>. This the reader assuredly thinks +an ugly arch. There are a great many of them in Venice, the +ugliest things there, and the Venetian builders quickly began +to feel them so. What could they do to better them? The +arch at <i>m</i> has a central piece of the form <i>r</i>. Substitute for it +a piece of the form <i>s</i>, and we have the arch at <i>n</i>.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XX</span>. This arch at <i>n</i> is not so strong as that at <i>m</i>; but, +built of good marble, and with its pieces of proper thickness, it +is quite strong enough for all practical purposes on a small scale. +I have examined at least two thousand windows of this kind +and of the other Venetian ogees, of which that at <i>y</i> (in which +the plain side-piece <i>d</i> is used instead of the cusped one) is the +simplest; and I never found <i>one</i>, even in the most ruinous +palaces (in which they had had to sustain the distorted weight +of falling walls) in which the central piece was fissured; and +this is the only danger to which the window is exposed; in +other respects it is as strong an arch as can be built.</p> + +<p>It is not to be supposed that the change from the <i>r</i> keystone +to the <i>s</i> keystone was instantaneous. It was a change wrought +out by many curious experiments, which we shall have to trace +hereafter, and to throw the resultant varieties of form into +their proper groups.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXI</span>. One step more: I take a mid-cusped side piece in +its block form at <i>t</i>, with the bricks which load the back of it. +Now, as these bricks support it behind, and since, as far as the +use of the cusp is concerned, it matters not whether its weight +be in marble or bricks, there is nothing to hinder us from cutting +out some of the marble, as at <i>u</i>, and filling up the space +with bricks. (<i>Why</i> we should take a fancy to do this, I do +not pretend to guess at present; all I have to assert is, that, if +the fancy should strike us, there would be no harm in it). +Substituting this side piece for the other in the window <i>n</i>, we +have that at <i>w</i>, which may, perhaps, be of some service to us +afterwards; here we have nothing more to do with it than to +note that, thus built, and properly backed by brickwork, it is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page141"></a>141</span> +just as strong and safe a form as that at <i>n</i>; but that this, as +well as every variety of ogee arch, depends entirely for its +safety, fitness, and beauty, on the masonry which we have just +analysed; and that, built on a large scale, and with many +voussoirs, all such arches would be unsafe and absurd in +general architecture. Yet they may be used occasionally for +the sake of the exquisite beauty of which their rich and fantastic +varieties admit, and sometimes for the sake of another merit, +exactly the opposite of the constructional ones we are at present +examining, that they seem to stand by enchantment.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">V.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_5"><img src="images/img141.jpg" width="404" height="650" alt="Arch Masonry." title="Arch Masonry." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">Arch Masonry. <br /> + BRULETTO OF COMO.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXII</span>. In the above reasonings, the inclination of the joints +of the voussoirs to the curves of the arch has not been considered. +It is a question of much nicety, and which I have +not been able as yet fully to investigate: but the natural idea +of the arrangement of these lines (which in round arches are +of course perpendicular to the curve) would be that every +voussoir should have the lengths of its outer and inner arched +surface in the same proportion to each other. Either this +actual law, or a close approximation to it, is assuredly enforced +in the best Gothic buildings.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIII</span>. I may sum up all that it is necessary for the reader +to keep in mind of the general laws connected with this subject, +by giving him an example of each of the two forms of +the perfect Gothic arch, uncusped and cusped, treated with +the most simple and magnificent masonry, and partly, in both +cases, Mont-Cenisian.</p> + +<p>The first, <a href="#plate_5">Plate V.</a>, is a window from the Broletto of Como. +It shows, in its filling, first, the single-pieced arch, carried on +groups of four shafts, and a single slab of marble filling the +space above, and pierced with a quatrefoil (Mont-Cenisian, +this), while the mouldings above are each constructed with a +separate system of voussoirs, all of them shaped, I think, on +the principle above stated, § <span class="scs">XXII</span>., in alternate serpentine and +marble; the outer arch being a noble example of the pure +uncusped Gothic construction, <i>b</i> of <a href="#plate_3">Plate III.</a></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXXIV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_34"><img src="images/img142.jpg" width="600" height="658" alt="Fig. XXXIV." title="Fig. XXXIV." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIV</span>. <a href="#fig_34">Fig. XXXIV.</a> is the masonry of the side arch of, +as far as I know or am able to judge, the most perfect Gothic +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page142"></a>142</span> +sepulchral monument in the world, the foursquare canopy of +the (nameless?)<a name="FnAnchor_49" href="#Footnote_49"><span class="sp">49</span></a> tomb standing over the small cemetery gate +of the Church of St. Anastasia at Verona. I shall have frequent +occasion to recur to this monument, and, I believe, +shall be able sufficiently to justify the terms in which I speak +of it: meanwhile, I desire only that the reader should observe +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page143"></a>143</span> +the severity and simplicity of the arch lines, the exquisitely +delicate suggestion of the ogee curve in the apex, and chiefly +the use of the cusp in giving <i>inward</i> weight to the great pieces +of stone on the flanks of the arch, and preventing their thrust +outwards from being severely thrown on the lowermost stones. +The effect of this arrangement is, that the whole massy canopy +is sustained safely by four slender pillars (as will be seen hereafter +in the careful plate I hope to give of it), these pillars +being rather steadied than materially assisted against the thrust, +by iron bars, about an inch thick, connecting them at the +heads of the abaci; a feature of peculiar importance in this +monument, inasmuch as we know it to be part of the original +construction, by a beautiful little Gothic wreathed pattern, +like one of the hems of garments of Fra Angelico, running +along the iron bar itself. So carefully, and so far, is the +system of decoration carried out in this pure and lovely monument, +my most beloved throughout all the length and breadth +of Italy;—chief, as I think, among all the sepulchral marbles +of a land of mourning.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_49" href="#FnAnchor_49"><span class="fn">49</span></a> At least I cannot find any account of it in Maffei’s “Verona,” nor anywhere +else, to be depended upon. It is, I doubt not, a work of the beginning +of the thirteenth century. Vide <a href="#app_19">Appendix 19</a>, “Tombs at St. Anastasia.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page144"></a>144</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_12" id="chap_12"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h3> + +<h5>THE ARCH LOAD.</h5> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXXV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_35"><img src="images/img144.jpg" width="300" height="501" alt="Fig. XXXV." title="Fig. XXXV." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">In</span> the preceding enquiry we have always supposed +either that the load upon the arch was perfectly loose, as of +gravel or sand, or that it was +Mont-Cenisian, and formed +one mass with the arch +voussoirs, of more or less +compactness.</p> + +<p>In practice, the state is +usually something between +the two. Over bridges and +tunnels it sometimes approaches +to the condition of +mere dust or yielding earth; +but in architecture it is mostly +firm masonry, not altogether +acting with the voussoirs, +yet by no means bearing +on them with perfectly dead +weight, but locking itself together +above them, and capable +of being thrown into forms +which relieve them, in some +degree, from its pressure.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. It is evident that if we are to place a continuous roof +above the line of arches, we must fill up the intervals between +them on the tops of the columns. We have at present nothing +granted us but the bare masonry, as here at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_35">Fig. XXXV.</a>, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page145"></a>145</span> +and we must fill up the intervals between the semicircle so as +to obtain a level line of support. We may first do this simply +as at <i>b</i>, with plain mass of +wall; so laying the roof on +the top, which is the +method of the pure Byzantine +and Italian Romanesque. +But if we find too +much stress is thus laid on +the arches, we may introduce +small second shafts +on the top of the great +shaft, <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_36">Fig. XXXVI.</a>, +which may assist in carrying +the roof, conveying +great part of its weight at +once to the heads of the +main shafts, and relieving +from its pressure the centres +of the arches.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXXVI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_36"><img src="images/img145.jpg" width="250" height="610" alt="Fig. XXXVI." title="Fig. XXXVI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. The new shaft +thus introduced may either +remain lifted on the head +of the great shaft, or may +be carried to the ground in +front of it, or through it, <i>b</i>, +<a href="#fig_36">Fig. XXXVI.</a>; in which +latter case the main shaft +divides into two or more +minor shafts, and forms a +group with the shaft +brought down from above.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. When this shaft, +brought from roof to +ground, is subordinate to the main pier, and either is carried +down the face of it, or forms no large part of the group, the +principle is Romanesque or Gothic, <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_36">Fig. XXXVI.</a> When +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page146"></a>146</span> +it becomes a bold central shaft, and the main pier splits into +two minor shafts on its sides, the principle is Classical or Palladian, +<i>c</i>, <a href="#fig_36">Fig. XXXVI.</a> Which latter arrangement becomes absurd +or unsatisfactory in proportion to the sufficiency of the +main shaft to carry the roof without the help of the minor +shafts or arch, which in many instances of Palladian work look +as if they might be removed without danger to the building.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. The form <i>a</i> is a more pure Northern Gothic type than +even <i>b</i>, which is the connecting link between it and the classical +type. It is found chiefly in English and other northern +Gothic, and in early Lombardic, and is, I doubt not, derived +as above explained, <a href="#chap_1">Chap. I.</a> § <span class="scs">XXVII</span>. <i>b</i> is a general French +Gothic and French Romanesque form, as in great purity at +Valence.</p> + +<p>The small shafts of the form <i>a</i> and <i>b</i>, as being northern, +are generally connected with steep vaulted roofs, and receive +for that reason the name of vaulting shafts.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. Of these forms <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_35">Fig. XXXV.</a>, is the purest and +most sublime, expressing the power of the arch most distinctly. +All the others have some appearance of dovetailing and morticing +of timber rather than stonework; nor have I ever yet +seen a single instance, quite satisfactory, of the management +of the capital of the main shaft, when it had either to sustain +the base of the vaulting shaft, as in <i>a</i>, or to suffer it to pass +through it, as in <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_36">Fig. XXXVI.</a> Nor is the bracket which +frequently carries the vaulting shaft in English work a fitting +support for a portion of the fabric which is at all events presumed +to carry a considerable part of the weight of the roof.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. The triangular spaces on the flanks of the arch are +called Spandrils, and if the masonry of these should be found, +in any of its forms, too heavy for the arch, their weight may +be diminished, while their strength remains the same, by piercing +them with circular holes or lights. This is rarely necessary +in ordinary architecture, though sometimes of great use in +bridges and iron roofs (a succession of such circles may be +seen, for instance, in the spandrils at the Euston Square +station); but, from its constructional value, it becomes the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page147"></a>147</span> +best form in which to arrange spandril decorations, as we shall +see hereafter.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. The height of the load above the arch is determined +by the needs of the building and possible length of the shaft; +but with this we have at present nothing to do, for we have +performed the task which was set us. We have ascertained, +as it was required that we should in § <span class="scs">VI</span>. of <a href="#chap_3">Chap. III.</a> (A), +the construction of walls; (B), that of piers; (C), that of piers +with lintels or arches prepared for roofing. We have next, +therefore, to examine (D) the structure of the roof.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page148"></a>148</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_13" id="chap_13"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> + +<h5>THE ROOF.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">Hitherto</span> our enquiry has been unembarrassed by any +considerations relating exclusively either to the exterior or +interior of buildings. But it can remain so no longer. As +far as the architect is concerned, one side of a wall is generally +the same as another; but in the roof there are usually two +distinct divisions of the structure; one, a shell, vault, or flat +ceiling, internally visible, the other, an upper structure, built +of timber, to protect the lower; or of some different form, to +support it. Sometimes, indeed, the internally visible structure +is the real roof, and sometimes there are more than two divisions, +as in St. Paul’s, where we have a central shell with a mask +below and above. Still it will be convenient to remember the +distinction between the part of the roof which is usually visible +from within, and whose only business is to stand strongly, +and not fall in, which I shall call the Roof Proper; and, +secondly, the upper roof, which, being often partly supported +by the lower, is not so much concerned with its own stability +as with the weather, and is appointed to throw off snow, and +get rid of rain, as fast as possible, which I shall call the Roof +Mask.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. It is, however, needless for me to engage the reader +in the discussion of the various methods of construction of +Roofs Proper, for this simple reason, that no person without +long experience can tell whether a roof be wisely constructed +or not; nor tell at all, even with help of any amount of experience, +without examination of the several parts and bearings of +it, very different from any observation possible to the general +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page149"></a>149</span> +critic: and more than this, the enquiry would be useless to us +in our Venetian studies, where the roofs are either not contemporary +with the buildings, or flat, or else vaults of the simplest +possible constructions, which have been admirably explained +by Willis in his “Architecture of the Middle Ages,” Chap. +VII., to which I may refer the reader for all that it would be +well for him to know respecting the connexion of the different +parts of the vault with the shafts. He would also do well to +read the passages on Tudor vaulting, pp. 185-193, in Mr. +Garbett’s rudimentary Treatise on Design, before alluded to.<a name="FnAnchor_50" href="#Footnote_50"><span class="sp">50</span></a> +I shall content myself therefore with noting one or two points +on which neither writer has had occasion to touch, respecting +the Roof Mask.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. It was said in § <span class="scs">V</span>. of Chapter III. that we should +not have occasion, in speaking of roof construction, to add +materially to the forms then suggested. The forms which we +have to add are only those resulting from the other curves of +the arch developed in the last chapter; that is to say, the +various eastern domes and cupolas arising out of the revolution +of the horseshoe and ogee curves, together with the well-known +Chinese concave roof. All these forms are of course +purely decorative, the bulging outline, or concave surface, +being of no more use, or rather of less, in throwing off snow +or rain, than the ordinary spire and gable; and it is rather +curious, therefore, that all of them, on a small scale, should +have obtained so extensive use in Germany and Switzerland, +their native climate being that of the east, where their purpose +seems rather to concentrate light upon their orbed surfaces. +I much doubt their applicability, on a large scale, to +architecture of any admirable dignity; their chief charm is, to +the European eye, that of strangeness; and it seems to me possible +that in the east the bulging form may be also delightful, +from the idea of its enclosing a volume of cool air. I enjoy +them in St. Mark’s, chiefly because they increase the fantastic +and unreal character of St. Mark’s Place; and because they +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page150"></a>150</span> +appear to sympathise with an expression, common, I think, to +all the buildings of that group, of a natural buoyancy, as if +they floated in the air or on the surface of the sea. But, assuredly, +they are not features to be recommended for +imitation.<a name="FnAnchor_51" href="#Footnote_51"><span class="sp">51</span></a></p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXXVII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_37"><img src="images/img150.jpg" width="250" height="386" alt="Fig. XXXVII." title="Fig. XXXVII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. One form, closely connected with the Chinese concave, +is, however, often constructively right,—the gable with +an inward angle, occurring with exquisitely +picturesque effect throughout +the domestic architecture of +the north, especially Germany and +Switzerland; the lower slope being +either an attached external penthouse +roof, for protection of the +wall, as in <a href="#fig_37">Fig. XXXVII.</a>, or else a +kind of buttress set on the angle of +the tower; and in either case the +roof itself being a simple gable, +continuous beneath it.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. The true gable, as it is the +simplest and most natural, so I esteem +it the grandest of roofs; +whether rising in ridgy darkness, like a grey slope of slaty +mountains, over the precipitous walls of the northern cathedrals, +or stretched in burning breadth above the white and +square-set groups of the southern architecture. But this difference +between its slope in the northern and southern structure +is a matter of far greater importance than is commonly +supposed, and it is this to which I would especially direct the +reader’s attention.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. One main cause of it, the necessity of throwing off +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page151"></a>151</span> +snow in the north, has been a thousand times alluded to: +another I do not remember having seen noticed, namely, that +rooms in a roof are comfortably habitable in the north, which +are painful <i>sotto piombi</i> in Italy; and that there is in wet +climates a natural tendency in all men to live as high as possible, +out of the damp and mist. These two causes, together +with accessible quantities of good timber, have induced in the +north a general steep pitch of gable, which, when rounded or +squared above a tower, becomes a spire or turret; and this +feature, worked out with elaborate decoration, is the key-note +of the whole system of aspiration, so called, which the German +critics have so ingeniously and falsely ascribed to a devotional +sentiment pervading the Northern Gothic: I entirely and +boldly deny the whole theory; our cathedrals were for the +most part built by worldly people, who loved the world, and +would have gladly staid in it for ever; whose best hope was +the escaping hell, which they thought to do by building cathedrals, +but who had very vague conceptions of Heaven in general, +and very feeble desires respecting their entrance therein; +and the form of the spired cathedral has no more intentional +reference to Heaven, as distinguished from the flattened slope +of the Greek pediment, than the steep gable of a Norman +house has, as distinguished from the flat roof of a Syrian one. +We may now, with ingenious pleasure, trace such symbolic +characters in the form; we may now use it with such definite +meaning; but we only prevent ourselves from all right understanding +of history, by attributing much influence to these +poetical symbolisms in the formation of a national style. The +human race are, for the most part, not to be moved by such +silken cords; and the chances of damp in the cellar, or of loose +tiles in the roof, have, unhappily, much more to do with the +fashions of a man’s house building than his ideas of celestial +happiness or angelic virtue. Associations of affection have far +higher power, and forms which can be no otherwise accounted +for may often be explained by reference to the natural features +of the country, or to anything which habit must have +rendered familiar, and therefore delightful; but the direct +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page152"></a>152</span> +symbolisation of a sentiment is a weak motive with all men, +and far more so in the practical minds of the north than among +the early Christians, who were assuredly quite as heavenly-minded, +when they built basilicas, or cut conchas out of the +catacombs, as were ever the Norman barons or monks.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. There is, however, in the north an animal activity +which materially aided the system of building begun in mere +utility,—an animal life, naturally expressed in erect work, as +the languor of the south in reclining or level work. Imagine +the difference between the action of a man urging himself to +his work in a snow storm, and the inaction of one laid at his +length on a sunny bank among cicadas and fallen olives, and +you will have the key to a whole group of sympathies which +were forcefully expressed in the architecture of both; remembering +always that sleep would be to the one luxury, to the +other death.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. And to the force of this vital instinct we have farther +to add the influence of natural scenery; and chiefly of +the groups and wildernesses of the tree which is to the German +mind what the olive or palm is to the southern, the spruce fir. +The eye which has once been habituated to the continual serration +of the pine forest, and to the multiplication of its infinite +pinnacles, is not easily offended by the repetition of similar +forms, nor easily satisfied by the simplicity of flat or +massive outlines. Add to the influence of the pine, that of +the poplar, more especially in the valleys of France; but think +of the spruce chiefly, and meditate on the difference of feeling +with which the Northman would be inspired by the frostwork +wreathed upon its glittering point, and the Italian by the dark +green depth of sunshine on the broad table of the stone-pine<a name="FnAnchor_52" href="#Footnote_52"><span class="sp">52</span></a> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page153"></a>153</span> +(and consider by the way whether the spruce fir be a more +heavenly-minded tree than those dark canopies of the Mediterranean +isles).</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. Circumstance and sentiment, therefore, aiding each +other, the steep roof becomes generally adopted, and delighted +in, throughout the north; and then, with the gradual exaggeration +with which every pleasant idea is pursued by the +human mind, it is raised into all manner of peaks, and points, +and ridges; and pinnacle after pinnacle is added on its flanks, +and the walls increased in height, in proportion, until we get +indeed a very sublime mass, but one which has no more principle +of religious aspiration in it than a child’s tower of cards. +What is more, the desire to build high is complicated with the +peculiar love of the grotesque<a name="FnAnchor_53" href="#Footnote_53"><span class="sp">53</span></a> which is characteristic of the +north, together with especial delight in multiplication of small +forms, as well as in exaggerated points of shade and energy, +and a certain degree of consequent insensibility to perfect +grace and quiet truthfulness; so that a northern architect could +not feel the beauty of the Elgin marbles, and there will always +be (in those who have devoted themselves to this particular +school) a certain incapacity to taste the finer characters of +Greek art, or to understand Titian, Tintoret, or Raphael: +whereas among the Italian Gothic workmen, this capacity was +never lost, and Nino Pisano and Orcagna could have understood +the Theseus in an instant, and would have received from +it new life. There can be no question that theirs was the +greatest school, and carried out by the greatest men; and that +while those who began with this school could perfectly well +feel Rouen Cathedral, those who study the Northern Gothic +remain in a narrowed field—one of small pinnacles, and dots, +and crockets, and twitched faces—and cannot comprehend the +meaning of a broad surface or a grand line. Nevertheless the +northern school is an admirable and delightful thing, but a +lower thing than the southern. The Gothic of the Ducal +Palace of Venice is in harmony with all that is grand in all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page154"></a>154</span> +the world: that of the north is in harmony with the grotesque +northern spirit only.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. We are, however, beginning to lose sight of our roof +structure in its spirit, and must return to our text. As the +height of the walls increased, in sympathy with the rise of the +roof, while their thickness remained the same, it became more +and more necessary to support them by buttresses; but—and +this is another point that the reader must specially note—it is +not the steep roof mask which requires the buttress, but the +vaulting beneath it; the roof mask being a mere wooden frame +tied together by cross timbers, and in small buildings often +put together on the ground, raised afterwards, and set on the +walls like a hat, bearing vertically upon them; and farther, I +believe in most cases the northern vaulting requires its great +array of external buttress, not so much from any peculiar boldness +in its own forms, as from the greater comparative thinness +and height of the walls, and more determined throwing +of the whole weight of the roof on particular points. Now +the connexion of the interior frame-work (or true roof) with +the buttress, at such points, is not visible to the spectators +from without; but the relation of the roof mask to the top of +the wall which it protects, or from which it springs, is perfectly +visible; and it is a point of so great importance in the +effect of the building, that it will be well to make it a subject +of distinct consideration in the following Chapter.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_50" href="#FnAnchor_50"><span class="fn">50</span></a> <a href="#app_17">Appendix 17</a></p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_51" href="#FnAnchor_51"><span class="fn">51</span></a> I do not speak of the true dome, because I have not studied its construction +enough to know at what largeness of scale it begins to be rather +a <i>tour de force</i> than a convenient or natural form of roof, and because the +ordinary spectator’s choice among its various outlines must always be dependent +on æsthetic considerations only, and can in no wise be grounded on +any conception of its infinitely complicated structural principles.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_52" href="#FnAnchor_52"><span class="fn">52</span></a> I shall not be thought to have overrated the effect of forest scenery on +the <i>northern</i> mind; but I was glad to hear a Spanish gentleman, the other +day, describing, together with his own, the regret which the peasants in +his neighborhood had testified for the loss of a noble stone-pine, one of the +grandest in Spain, which its proprietor had suffered to be cut down for +small gain. He said that the mere spot where it had grown was still popularly +known as “El Pino.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_53" href="#FnAnchor_53"><span class="fn">53</span></a> <a href="#app_8">Appendix 8</a>.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page155"></a>155</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_14" id="chap_14"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> + +<h5>THE ROOF CORNICE.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">It</span> will be remembered that in the Sixth Chapter we +paused (§ <span class="scs">X</span>.) at the point where the addition of brackets to +the ordinary wall cornice would have converted it into a structure +proper for sustaining a roof. Now the wall cornice was +treated throughout our enquiry (compare Chapter VII. § <span class="scs">V</span>.) as +the capital of the wall, and as forming, by its concentration, +the capital of the shaft. But we must not reason <i>back</i> from +the capital to the cornice, and suppose that an extension of the +principles of the capital to the whole length of the wall, will +serve for the roof cornice; for all our conclusions respecting +the capital were based on the supposition of its being +adapted to carry considerable weight condensed on its abacus: +but the roof cornice is, in most cases, required rather to +project boldly than to carry weight; and arrangements are +therefore to be adopted for it which will secure the projection +of large surfaces without being calculated to resist extraordinary +pressure. This object is obtained by the use of +brackets at intervals, which are the peculiar distinction of the +roof cornice.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II.</span> Roof cornices are generally to be divided into two +great families: the first and simplest, those which are composed +merely by the projection of the edge of the roof mask +over the wall, sustained by such brackets or spurs as may be +necessary; the second, those which provide a walk round the +edge of the roof, and which require, therefore, some stronger +support, as well as a considerable mass of building above or +beside the roof mask, and a parapet. These two families we +shall consider in succession.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page156"></a>156</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III.</span> 1. The Eaved Cornice. We may give it this name, +as represented in the simplest form by cottage eaves. It is +used, however, in bold projection, both in north, and south, and +east; its use being, in the north, to throw the rain well away +from the wall of the building; in the south to give it shade; +and it is ordinarily constructed of the ends of the timbers of +the roof mask (with their tiles or shingles continued to the +edge of the cornice), and sustained by spurs of timber. This +is its most picturesque and natural form; not inconsistent with +great splendor of architecture in the mediæval Italian domestic +buildings, superb in its mass of cast shadow, and giving +rich effect to the streets of Swiss towns, even when they have +no other claim to interest. A farther value is given to it by +its waterspouts, for in order to avoid loading it with weight of +water in the gutter at the edge, where it would be a strain on +the fastenings of the pipe, it has spouts of discharge at intervals +of three or four feet,—rows of magnificent leaden or iron +dragons’ heads, full of delightful character, except to any person +passing along the middle of the street in a heavy shower. +I have had my share of their kindness in my time, but owe +them no grudge; on the contrary, much gratitude for the delight +of their fantastic outline on the calm blue sky, when they +had no work to do but to open their iron mouths and pant in +the sunshine.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV.</span> When, however, light is more valuable than shadow, +or when the architecture of the wall is too fair to be concealed, +it becomes necessary to draw the cornice into narrower limits; +a change of considerable importance, in that it permits the +gutter, instead of being of lead and hung to the edge of the +cornice, to be of stone, and supported by brackets in the wall, +these brackets becoming proper recipients of after decoration +(and sometimes associated with the stone channels of discharge, +called gargoyles, which belong, however, more properly to the +other family of cornices). The most perfect and beautiful +example of this kind of cornice is the Venetian, in which the +rain from the tiles is received in a stone gutter supported by +small brackets, delicately moulded, and having its outer lower +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157"></a>157</span> +edge decorated with the English dogtooth moulding, whose +sharp zigzag mingles richly with the curved edges of the tiling. +I know no cornice more beautiful in its extreme simplicity and +serviceableness.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V.</span> The cornice of the Greek Doric is a condition of the +same kind, in which, however, there are no brackets, but useless +appendages hung to the bottom of the gutter (giving, +however, some impression of support as seen from a distance), +and decorated with stone symbolisms of raindrops. The brackets +are not allowed, because they would interfere with the +sculpture, which in this architecture is put beneath the cornice; +and the overhanging form of the gutter is nothing +more than a vast dripstone moulding, to keep the rain from +such sculpture: its decoration of guttæ, seen in silver points +against the shadow, is pretty in feeling, with a kind of continual +refreshment and remembrance of rain in it; but the +whole arrangement is awkward and meagre, and is only endurable +when the eye is quickly drawn away from it to sculpture.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI.</span> In later cornices, invented for the Greek orders, and +farther developed by the Romans, the bracket appears in true +importance, though of barbarous and effeminate outline: and +gorgeous decorations are applied to it, and to the various horizontal +mouldings which it carries, some of them of great +beauty, and of the highest value to the mediæval architects +who imitated them. But a singularly gross mistake was made +in the distribution of decoration on these rich cornices (I do +not know when first, nor does it matter to me or to the reader), +namely, the charging with ornament the under surface of the +cornice between the brackets, that is to say, the exact piece of +the whole edifice, from top to bottom, where ornament is least +visible. I need hardly say much respecting the wisdom of +this procedure, excusable only if the whole building were +covered with ornament; but it is curious to see the way in +which modern architects have copied it, even when they had +little enough ornament to spare. For instance, I suppose few +persons look at the Athenæum Club-house without feeling +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page158"></a>158</span> +vexed at the meagreness and meanness of the windows of the +ground floor: if, however, they look up under the cornice, and +have good eyes, they will perceive that the architect has reserved +his decorations to put between the brackets; and by +going up to the first floor, and out on the gallery, they may +succeed in obtaining some glimpses of the designs of the said +decorations.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII.</span> Such as they are, or were, these cornices were soon +considered essential parts of the “order” to which they belonged; +and the same wisdom which endeavored to fix the +proportions of the orders, appointed also that no order should +go without its cornice. The reader has probably heard of the +architectural division of superstructure into architrave, frieze, +and cornice; parts which have been appointed by great architects +to all their work, in the same spirit in which great rhetoricians +have ordained that every speech shall have an exordium, +and narration, and peroration. The reader will do well to consider +that it may be sometimes just as possible to carry a roof, +and get rid of rain, without such an arrangement, as it is to +tell a plain fact without an exordium or peroration; but he +must very absolutely consider that the architectural peroration +or cornice is strictly and sternly limited to the end of the wall’s +speech,—that is, to the edge of the roof; and that it has nothing +whatever to do with shafts nor the orders of them. And +he will then be able fully to enjoy the farther ordinance of the +late Roman and Renaissance architects, who, attaching it to +the shaft as if it were part of its shadow, and having to employ +their shafts often in places where they came not near the roof, +forthwith cut the roof-cornice to pieces and attached a bit of it +to every column; thenceforward to be carried by the unhappy +shaft wherever it went, in addition to any other work on which +it might happen to be employed. I do not recollect among +any living beings, except Renaissance architects, any instance +of a parallel or comparable stupidity: but one can imagine a +savage getting hold of a piece of one of our iron wire ropes, +with its rings upon it at intervals to bind it together, and pulling +the wires asunder to apply them to separate purposes; but +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159"></a>159</span> +imagining there was magic in the ring that bound them, and so +cutting that to pieces also, and fastening a little bit of it to +every wire.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII.</span> Thus much may serve us to know respecting the +first family of wall cornices. The second is immeasurably more +important, and includes the cornices of all the best buildings +in the world. It has derived its best form from mediæval +military architecture, which imperatively required two things; +first, a parapet which should permit sight and offence, and +afford defence at the same time; and secondly, a projection +bold enough to enable the defenders to rake the bottom of +the wall with falling bodies; projection which, if the wall +happened to slope inwards, required not to be small. The +thoroughly magnificent forms of cornice thus developed by +necessity in military buildings, were adopted, with more or less +of boldness or distinctness, in domestic architecture, according +to the temper of the times and the circumstances of the individual—decisively +in the baron’s house, imperfectly in the +burgher’s: gradually they found their way into ecclesiastical +architecture, under wise modifications in the early cathedrals, +with infinite absurdity in the imitations of them; diminishing +in size as their original purpose sank into a decorative one, until +we find battlements, two-and-a-quarter inches square, decorating +the gates of the Philanthropic Society.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX.</span> There are, therefore, two distinct features in all cornices +of this kind; first, the bracket, now become of enormous +importance and of most serious practical service; the second, +the parapet: and these two features we shall consider in succession, +and in so doing, shall learn all that is needful for us to +know, not only respecting cornices, but respecting brackets in +general, and balconies.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXXVIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_38"><img src="images/img160.jpg" width="130" height="197" alt="Fig. XXXVIII." title="Fig. XXXVIII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X.</span> 1. The Bracket. In the simplest form of military cornice, +the brackets are composed of two or more long stones, +supporting each other in gradually increasing projection, with +roughly rounded ends, <a href="#fig_38">Fig. XXXVIII.</a>, and the parapet is +simply a low wall carried on the ends of these, leaving, of +course, behind, or within it, a hole between each bracket for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160"></a>160</span> +the convenient dejection of hot sand and lead. This form +is best seen, I think, in the old Scotch castles; it is very +grand, but has a giddy look, and one is +afraid of the whole thing toppling off the +wall. The next step was to deepen the +brackets, so as to get them propped against +a great depth of the main rampart, and to +have the inner ends of the stones held by a +greater weight of that main wall above; +while small arches were thrown from bracket +to bracket to carry the parapet wall more +securely. This is the most perfect form of +cornice, completely satisfying the eye of its +security, giving full protection to the wall, and applicable to all +architecture, the interstices between the brackets being filled +up, when one does not want to throw boiling lead on any body +below, and the projection being always delightful, as giving +greater command and view of the building, from its angles, to +those walking on the rampart. And as, in military buildings, +there were usually towers at the angles (round which the battlements +swept) in order to flank the walls, so often in the +translation into civil or ecclesiastical architecture, a small turret +remained at the angle, or a more bold projection of balcony, to +give larger prospect to those upon the rampart. This cornice, +perfect in all its parts, as arranged for ecclesiastical architecture, +and exquisitely decorated, is the one employed in the duomo +of Florence and campanile of Giotto, of which I have already +spoken as, I suppose, the most perfect architecture in the world.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI.</span> In less important positions and on smaller edifices, this +cornice diminishes in size, while it retains its arrangement, and +at last we find nothing but the spirit and form of it left; the +real practical purpose having ceased, and arch, brackets and +all, being cut out of a single stone. Thus we find it used in +early buildings throughout the whole of the north and south +of Europe, in forms sufficiently represented by the two examples +in <a href="#plate_4">Plate IV.</a>: 1, from St. Antonio, Padua; 2, from Sens +in France.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page161"></a>161</span></p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XXXIX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_39"><img src="images/img161a.jpg" width="130" height="559" alt="Fig. XXXIX." title="Fig. XXXIX." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII.</span> I wish, however, at present to fix the reader’s attention +on the form of the bracket itself; a most important feature +in modern as well as ancient architecture. The first idea of +a bracket is that of a long stone or piece of <span class="correction" title="corrected from timbe">timber</span> +projecting from the wall, as <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_39">Fig. XXXIX.</a>, +of which the strength depends on the toughness +of the stone or wood, and the stability on the +weight of wall above it (unless it be the end +of a main beam). But let it be supposed that +the structure at <i>a</i>, being of the required projection, +is found too weak: then we may strengthen +it in one of three ways; (1) by putting a second +or third stone beneath it, as at <i>b</i>; (2) by giving +it a spur, as at <i>c</i>; (3) by giving it a shaft and +another bracket below, <i>d</i>; the great use of this +arrangement being that the lowermost bracket +has the help of the weight of the shaft-length +of wall above its insertion, which is, of course, +greater than the weight of the small shaft: and +then the lower bracket may be farther helped by +the structure at <i>b</i> or <i>c</i>.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XL.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_40"><img src="images/img161b.jpg" width="100" height="360" alt="Fig. XL." title="Fig. XL." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII.</span> Of these structures, <i>a</i> and <i>c</i> are evidently +adapted especially for wooden buildings; <i>b</i> and <i>d</i> for stone +ones; the last, of course, susceptible of the richest decoration, +and superbly employed in the cornice of the cathedral +of Monza: but all are beautiful in their way, +and are the means of, I think, nearly half the picturesqueness +and power of mediæval building; the +forms <i>b</i> and <i>c</i> being, of course, the most frequent; +<i>a</i>, when it occurs, being usually rounded off, as at <i>a</i>, +<a href="#fig_40">Fig. XL.</a>; <i>b</i>, also, as in <a href="#fig_38">Fig. XXXVIII.</a>, or else itself +composed of a single stone cut into the form +of the group <i>b</i> here, <a href="#fig_40">Fig. XL.</a>, or plain, as at <i>c</i>, +which is also the proper form of the brick bracket, +when stone is not to be had. The reader will at +once perceive that the form <i>d</i> is a barbarism (unless +when the scale is small and the weight to be carried exceedingly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162"></a>162</span> +light): it is of course, therefore, a favorite form with the +Renaissance architects; and its introduction is one of the first +corruptions of the Venetian architecture.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV.</span> There is one point necessary to be noticed, though +bearing on decoration more than construction, before we leave +the subject of the bracket. The whole power of the construction +depends upon the stones being well <i>let into</i> the wall; and +the first function of the decoration should be to give the +idea of this insertion, if possible; at all events, not to contradict +this idea. If the reader will glance at any of the brackets +used in the ordinary architecture of London, he will find them +of some such character as <a href="#fig_41">Fig. XLI.</a>; not a bad form in itself, +but exquisitely absurd in its curling lines, which give the idea +of some writhing suspended tendril, instead of a stiff support, +and by their careful avoidance of the wall make the +bracket look pinned on, and in constant danger of +sliding down. This is, also, a Classical and Renaissance +decoration.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XLI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_41"><img src="images/img162.jpg" width="100" height="222" alt="Fig. XLI." title="Fig. XLI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV.</span> 2. The Parapet. Its forms are fixed in +military architecture by the necessities of the art of +war at the time of building, and are always beautiful +wherever they have been really thus fixed; delightful in +the variety of their setting, and in the quaint darkness of their +shot-holes, and fantastic changes of elevation and outline. +Nothing is more remarkable than the swiftly discerned difference +between the masculine irregularity of such true battlements, +and the formal pitifulness of those which are set on +modern buildings to give them a military air,—as on the jail +at Edinburgh.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI.</span> Respecting the Parapet for mere safeguard upon +buildings not military, there are just two fixed laws. It should +be pierced, otherwise it is not recognised from below for a +parapet at all, and it should not be in the form of a battlement, +especially in church architecture.</p> + +<p>The most comfortable heading of a true parapet is a plain +level on which the arm can be rested, and along which it can +glide. Any jags or elevations are disagreeable; the latter, as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page163"></a>163</span> +interrupting the view and disturbing the eye, if they are +higher than the arm, the former, as opening some aspect of +danger if they are much lower; and the inconvenience, therefore, +of the battlemented form, as well as the worse than +absurdity, the bad feeling, of the appliance of a military feature +to a church, ought long ago to have determined its rejection. +Still (for the question of its picturesque value is here so closely +connected with that of its practical use, that it is vain to endeavor +to discuss it separately) there is a certain agreeableness +in the way in which the jagged outline dovetails the shadow of +the slated or leaded roof into the top of the wall, which may +make the use of the battlement excusable where there is a difficulty +in managing some unvaried line, and where the expense +of a pierced parapet cannot be encountered: but remember +always, that the value of the battlement consists in its letting +shadow into the light of the wall, or <i>vice versâ</i>, when it comes +against light sky, letting the light of the sky into the shade of +the wall; but that the actual outline of the parapet itself, if +the eye be arrested upon this, instead of upon the alternation +of shadow, is as <i>ugly</i> a succession of line as can by any possibility +be invented. Therefore, the battlemented parapet may +only be used where this alternation of shade is certain to be +shown, under nearly all conditions of effect; and where the +lines to be dealt with are on a scale which may admit battlements +of bold and manly size. The idea that a battlement is +an ornament anywhere, and that a miserable and diminutive +imitation of castellated outline will always serve to fill up blanks +and Gothicise unmanageable spaces, is one of the great idiocies +of the present day. A battlement is in its origin a piece of +wall large enough to cover a man’s body, and however it may +be decorated, or pierced, or finessed away into traceries, as long +as so much of its outline is retained as to suggest its origin, so +long its size must remain undiminished. To crown a turret +six feet high with chopped battlements three inches wide, is +children’s Gothic: it is one of the paltry falsehoods for which +there is no excuse, and part of the system of using models of +architecture to decorate architecture, which we shall hereafter +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page164"></a>164</span> +note as one of the chief and most destructive follies of the +Renaissance;<a name="FnAnchor_54" href="#Footnote_54"><span class="sp">54</span></a> and in the present day the practice may be +classed as one which distinguishes the architects of whom there +is no hope, who have neither eye nor head for their work, and +who must pass their lives in vain struggles against the refractory +lines of their own buildings.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII.</span> As the only excuse for the battlemented parapet is +its alternation of shadow, so the only fault of the natural or +level parapet is its monotony of line. This is, however, in +practice, almost always broken by the pinnacles of the buttresses, +and if not, may be varied by the tracery of its penetrations. +The forms of these evidently admit every kind of +change; for a stone parapet, however pierced, is sure to be +strong enough for its purpose of protection, and, as regards the +strength of the building in general, the lighter it is the better. +More fantastic forms may, therefore, be admitted in a parapet +than in any other architectural feature, and for most services, +the Flamboyant parapets seem to me preferable to all others; +especially when the leaden roofs set off by points of darkness +the lace-like intricacy of penetration. These, however, as well +as the forms usually given to Renaissance balustrades (of which, +by the bye, the best piece of criticism I know is the sketch in +“David Copperfield” of the personal appearance of the man +who stole Jip), and the other and finer forms invented by Paul +Veronese in his architectural backgrounds, together with the +pure columnar balustrade of Venice, must be considered as +altogether decorative features.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII.</span> So also are, of course, the jagged or crown-like +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165"></a>165</span> +finishings of walls employed where no real parapet of protection +is desired; originating in the defences of outworks and +single walls: these are used much in the east on walls surrounding +unroofed courts. The richest examples of such +decoration are Arabian; and from Cairo they seem to have +been brought to Venice. It is probable that few of my readers, +however familiar the general form of the Ducal Palace may +have been rendered to them by innumerable drawings, have any +distinct idea of its roof, owing to the staying of the eye on its +superb parapet, of which we shall give account hereafter. In +most of the Venetian cases the parapets which surround roofing +are very sufficient for protection, except that the stones of +which they are composed appear loose and infirm: but their +purpose is entirely decorative; every wall, whether detached +or roofed, being indiscriminately fringed with Arabic forms of +parapet, more or less Gothicised, according to the lateness of +their date.</p> + +<p>I think there is no other point of importance requiring +illustration respecting the roof itself, or its cornice: but this +Venetian form of ornamental parapet connects itself curiously, +at the angles of nearly all the buildings on which it occurs, +with the pinnacled system of the north, founded on the structure +of the buttress. This, it will be remembered, is to be the +subject of the fifth division of our inquiry.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_54" href="#FnAnchor_54"><span class="fn">54</span></a> Not of Renaissance alone: the practice of modelling buildings on a +minute scale for niches and tabernacle-work has always been more or less +admitted, and I suppose <i>authority</i> for diminutive battlements might be +gathered from the Gothic of almost every period, as well as for many other +faults and mistakes: no Gothic school having ever been thoroughly systematised +or perfected, even in its best times. But that a mistaken decoration +sometimes occurs among a crowd of noble ones, is no more an excuse for +the habitual—far less, the exclusive—use of such a decoration, than the +accidental or seeming misconstructions of a Greek chorus are an excuse for +a school boy’s ungrammatical exercise.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page166"></a>166</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_15"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h3> + +<h5>THE BUTTRESS.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I.</span> <span class="sc">We</span> have hitherto supposed ourselves concerned with +the support of vertical pressure only; and the arch and roof +have been considered as forms of abstract strength, without +reference to the means by which their lateral pressure was to +be resisted. Few readers will need now to be reminded, that +every arch or gable not tied at its base by beams or bars, +exercises a lateral pressure upon the walls which sustain it,—pressure +which may, indeed, be met and sustained by increasing +the thickness of the wall or vertical piers, and which is in +reality thus met in most Italian buildings, but may, with less +expenditure of material, and with (perhaps) more graceful +effect, be met by some particular application of the provisions +against lateral pressure called Buttresses. These, therefore, +we are next to examine.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II.</span> Buttresses are of many kinds, according to the character +and direction of the lateral forces they are intended to +resist. But their first broad division is into buttresses which +meet and break the force before it arrives at the wall, and +buttresses which stand on the lee side of the wall, and prop it +against the force.</p> + +<p>The lateral forces which walls have to sustain are of three +distinct kinds: dead weight, as of masonry or still water; +moving weight, as of wind or running water; and sudden concussion, +as of earthquakes, explosions, &c.</p> + +<p>Clearly, dead weight can only be resisted by the buttress +acting as a prop; for a buttress on the side of, or towards the +weight, would only add to its effect. This, then, forms the +first great class of buttressed architecture; lateral thrusts, of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page167"></a>167</span> +roofing or arches, being met by props of masonry outside—the +thrust from within, the prop without; or the crushing +force of water on a ship’s side met by its cross timbers—the +thrust here from without the wall, the prop within.</p> + +<p>Moving weight may, of course, be resisted by the prop on +the lee side of the wall, but is often more effectually met, on +the side which is attacked, by buttresses of peculiar forms, +cunning buttresses, which do not attempt to sustain the weight, +but <i>parry</i> it, and throw it off in directions clear of the wall.</p> + +<p>Thirdly: concussions and vibratory motion, though in +reality only supported by the prop buttress, must be provided +for by buttresses on both sides of the wall, as their direction +cannot be foreseen, and is continually changing.</p> + +<p>We shall briefly glance at these three systems of buttressing; +but the two latter being of small importance to our present +purpose, may as well be dismissed first.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III.</span> 1. Buttresses for guard against moving weight and +set towards the weight they resist.</p> + +<p>The most familiar instance of this kind of buttress we have +in the sharp piers of a bridge, in the centre of a powerful +stream, which divide the current on their edges, and throw it +to each side under the arches. A ship’s bow is a buttress of +the same kind, and so also the ridge of a breastplate, both +adding to the strength of it in resisting a cross blow, and giving +a better chance of a bullet glancing aside. In Switzerland, projecting +buttresses of this kind are often built round churches, +heading up hill, to divide and throw off the avalanches. The +various forms given to piers and harbor quays, and to the bases +of light-houses, in order to meet the force of the waves, are all +conditions of this kind of buttress. But in works of ornamental +architecture such buttresses are of rare occurrence; +and I merely name them in order to mark their place in our +architectural system, since in the investigation of our present +subject we shall not meet with a single example of them, +unless sometimes the angle of the foundation of a palace set +against the sweep of the tide, or the wooden piers of some +canal bridge quivering in its current.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page168"></a>168</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV.</span> 2. Buttresses for guard against vibratory motion.</p> + +<p>The whole formation of this kind of buttress resolves itself +into mere expansion of the base of the wall, so as to make it +stand steadier, as a man stands with his feet apart when he is +likely to lose his balance. This approach to a pyramidal form +is also of great use as a guard against the action of artillery; +that if a stone or tier of stones be battered out of the lower +portions of the wall, the whole upper part may not topple over +or crumble down at once. Various forms of this buttress, +sometimes applied to particular points of the wall, sometimes +forming a great sloping rampart along its base, are frequent in +buildings of countries exposed to earthquake. They give a +peculiarly heavy outline to much of the architecture of the +kingdom of Naples, and they are of the form in which strength +and solidity are first naturally sought, in the slope of the +Egyptian wall. The base of Guy’s Tower at Warwick is a +singularly bold example of their military use; and so, in general, +bastion and rampart profiles, where, however, the object +of stability against a shock is complicated with that of sustaining +weight of earth in the rampart behind.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V.</span> 3. Prop buttresses against dead weight.</p> + +<p>This is the group with which we have principally to do; +and a buttress of this kind acts in two ways, partly by its +weight and partly by its strength. It acts by its weight when +its mass is so great that the weight it sustains cannot stir it, +but is lost upon it, buried in it, and annihilated: neither the +shape of such a buttress nor the cohesion of its materials are +of much consequence; a heap of stones or sandbags, laid up +against the wall, will answer as well as a built and cemented +mass.</p> + +<p>But a buttress acting by its strength is not of mass sufficient +to resist the weight by mere inertia; but it conveys the weight +through its body to something else which is so capable; as, for +instance, a man leaning against a door with his hands, and +propping himself against the ground, conveys the force which +would open or close the door against him through his body to +the ground. A buttress acting in this way must be of perfectly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page169"></a>169</span> +coherent materials, and so strong that though the weight +to be borne could easily move it, it cannot break it: this kind +of buttress may be called a conducting buttress. Practically, +however, the two modes of action are always in some sort +united. Again, the weight to be borne may either act generally +on the whole wall surface, or with excessive energy on +particular points: when it acts on the whole wall surface, the +whole wall is generally supported; and the arrangement becomes +a continuous rampart, as a dyke, or bank of reservoir.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI.</span> It is, however, very seldom that lateral force in architecture +is equally distributed. In most cases the weight of +the roof, or the force of any lateral thrust, are more or less +confined to certain points and directions. In an early state of +architectural science this definiteness of direction is not yet +clear, and it is met by uncertain application of mass or +strength in the buttress, sometimes by mere thickening of the +wall into square piers, which are partly piers, partly buttresses, +as in Norman keeps and towers. But as science advances, the +weight to be borne is designedly and decisively thrown upon +certain points; the direction and degree of the forces which +are then received are exactly calculated, and met by conducting +buttresses of the smallest possible dimensions; themselves, +in their turn, supported by vertical buttresses acting by weight, +and these perhaps, in their turn, by another set of conducting +buttresses: so that, in the best examples of such arrangements, +the weight to be borne may be considered as the shock of an +electric fluid, which, by a hundred different rods and channels, +is divided and carried away into the ground.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII.</span> In order to give greater weight to the vertical buttress +piers which sustain the conducting buttresses, they are +loaded with pinnacles, which, however, are, I believe, in all +the buildings in which they become very prominent, merely +decorative: they are of some use, indeed, by their weight; +but if this were all for which they were put there, a few cubic +feet of lead would much more securely answer the purpose, +without any danger from exposure to wind. If the reader +likes to ask any Gothic architect with whom he may happen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page170"></a>170</span> +to be acquainted, to substitute a lump of lead for his pinnacles, +he will see by the expression of his face how far he considers +the pinnacles decorative members. In the work which seems +to me the great type of simple and masculine buttress structure, +the apse of Beauvais, the pinnacles are altogether insignificant, +and are evidently added just as exclusively to entertain +the eye and lighten the aspect of the buttress, as the +slight shafts which are set on its angles; while in other very +noble Gothic buildings the pinnacles are introduced as niches +for statues, without any reference to construction at all: and +sometimes even, as in the tomb of Can Signoria at Verona, on +small piers detached from the main building.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII.</span> I believe, therefore, that the development of the pinnacle +is merely a part of the general erectness and picturesqueness +of northern work above alluded to: and that, if there had +been no other place for the pinnacles, the Gothic builders +would have put them on the tops of their arches (they often +<i>did</i> on the tops of gables and pediments), rather than not have +had them; but the natural position of the pinnacle is, of +course, where it adds to, rather than diminishes, the stability +of the building; that is to say, on its main wall piers and the +vertical piers at the buttresses. And thus the edifice is surrounded +at last by a complete company of detached piers and +pinnacles, each sustaining an inclined prop against the central +wall, and looking something like a band of giants holding it +up with the butts of their lances. This arrangement would +imply the loss of an enormous space of ground, but the intervals +of the buttresses are usually walled in below, and form +minor chapels.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XLII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="fig_42"><img src="images/img171.jpg" width="600" height="178" alt="Fig. XLII." title="Fig. XLII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX.</span> The science of this arrangement has made it the +subject of much enthusiastic declamation among the Gothic +architects, almost as unreasonable, in some respects, as the +declamation of the Renaissance architects respecting Greek +structure. The fact is, that the whole northern buttress system +is based on the grand requirement of tall windows and +vast masses of light at the end of the apse. In order to gain +this quantity of light, the piers between the windows are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page171"></a>171</span> +diminished in thickness until they are far too weak to bear the +roof, and then sustained by external buttresses. In the Italian +method the light is rather dreaded than desired, and the wall +is made wide enough between the windows to bear the roof, +and so left. In fact, the simplest expression of the difference +in the systems is, that a northern apse is a southern one with +its inter-fenestrial piers set edgeways. Thus, <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_42">Fig. XLII.</a>, is +the general idea of the southern apse; take it to pieces, and +set all its piers edgeways, as at <i>b</i>, and you have the northern +one. You gain much light for the interior, but you cut the +exterior to pieces, and instead of a bold rounded or polygonal +surface, ready for any kind of decoration, you have a series +of dark and damp cells, which no device that I have yet +seen has succeeded in decorating in a perfectly satisfactory +manner. If the system be farther carried, and a second or +third order of buttresses be added, the real fact is that we +have a building standing on two or three rows of concentric +piers, with the <i>roof off</i> the whole of it except the central +circle, and only ribs left, to carry the weight of the bit of +remaining roof in the middle; and after the eye has been +accustomed to the bold and simple rounding of the Italian +apse, the skeleton character of the disposition is painfully felt. +After spending some months in Venice, I thought Bourges +Cathedral looked exactly like a half-built ship on its shores. +It is useless, however, to dispute respecting the merits of the +two systems: both are noble in their place; the Northern +decidedly the most scientific, or at least involving the greatest +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page172"></a>172</span> +display of science, the Italian the calmest and purest, this +having in it the sublimity of a calm heaven or a windless noon, +the other that of a mountain flank tormented by the north +wind, and withering into grisly furrows of alternate chasm +and crag.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X.</span> If I have succeeded in making the reader understand +the veritable action of the buttress, he will have no difficulty +in determining its fittest form. He has to deal with two distinct +kinds; one, a narrow vertical pier, acting principally by +its weight, and crowned by a pinnacle; the other, commonly +called a Flying buttress, a cross bar set from such a pier (when +detached from the building) against the main wall. This +latter, then, is to be considered as a mere prop or shore, and its +use by the Gothic architects might be illustrated by the supposition +that we were to build all our houses with walls too thin +to stand without wooden props outside, and then to substitute +stone props for wooden ones. I have some doubts of the real +dignity of such a proceeding, but at all events the merit of the +form of the flying buttress depends on its faithfully and visibly +performing this somewhat humble office; it is, therefore, in its +purity, a mere sloping bar of stone, with an arch beneath it to +carry its weight, that is to say, to prevent the action of gravity +from in any wise deflecting it, or causing it to break downwards +under the lateral thrust; it is thus formed quite simple +in Notre Dame of Paris, and in the Cathedral of Beauvais, +while at Cologne the sloping bars are pierced with quatrefoils, +and at Amiens with traceried arches. Both seem to me effeminate +and false in principle; not, of course, that there is any +occasion to make the flying buttress heavy, if a light one will +answer the purpose; but it seems as if some security were +sacrificed to ornament. At Amiens the arrangement is now +seen to great disadvantage, for the early traceries have been +replaced by base flamboyant ones, utterly weak and despicable. +Of the degradations of the original form which took place in +after times, I have spoken at p. 35 of the “Seven Lamps.”</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI.</span> The form of the common buttress must be familiar to +the eye of every reader, sloping if low, and thrown into +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page173"></a>173</span> +successive steps if they are to be carried to any considerable +height. There is much dignity in them when they are of +essential service; but even in their best examples, their awkward +angles are among the least manageable features of the +Northern Gothic, and the whole organisation of its system was +destroyed by their unnecessary and lavish application on a +diminished scale; until the buttress became actually confused +with the shaft, and we find strangely crystallised masses of +diminutive buttress applied, for merely vertical support, in the +northern tabernacle work; while in some recent copies of it +the principle has been so far distorted that the tiny buttressings +look as if they carried the superstructure on the points +of their pinnacles, as in the Cranmer memorial at Oxford. +Indeed, in most modern Gothic, the architects evidently consider +buttresses as convenient breaks of blank surface, and +general apologies for deadness of wall. They stand in the +place of ideas, and I think are supposed also to have something +of the odor of sanctity about them; otherwise, one hardly sees +why a warehouse seventy feet high should have nothing of the +kind, and a chapel, which one can just get into with one’s hat +off, should have a bunch of them at every corner; and worse +than this, they are even thought ornamental when they can be +of no possible use; and these stupid penthouse outlines are +forced upon the eye in every species of decoration: in St. +Margaret’s Chapel, West Street, there are actually a couple of +buttresses at the end of every pew.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII.</span> It is almost impossible, in consequence of these unwise +repetitions of it, to contemplate the buttress without some +degree of prejudice; and I look upon it as one of the most +justifiable causes of the unfortunate aversion with which many +of our best architects regard the whole Gothic school. It +may, however, always be regarded with respect when its form +is simple and its service clear; but no treason to Gothic can be +greater than the use of it in indolence or vanity, to enhance +the intricacies of structure, or occupy the vacuities of design.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page174"></a>174</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_16"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> + +<h5>FORM OF APERTURE.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I.</span> <span class="sc">We</span> have now, in order, examined the means of raising +walls and sustaining roofs, and we have finally to consider the +structure of the necessary apertures in the wall veil, the door +and window; respecting which there are three main points to +be considered.</p> + +<p class="nomarg">1. The form of the aperture, <i>i.e.</i>, its outline, its size, and +the forms of its sides.</p> + +<p class="nomarg">2. The filling of the aperture, <i>i.e.</i>, valves and glass, and +their holdings.</p> + +<p class="nomarg">3. The protection of the aperture, and its appliances, <i>i.e.</i>, +canopies, porches, and balconies. We shall examine +these in succession.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II.</span> 1. The form of the aperture: and first of doors. We +will, for the present, leave out of the question doors and gates +in unroofed walls, the forms of these being very arbitrary, and +confine ourselves to the consideration of doors of entrance into +roofed buildings. Such doors will, for the most part, be at, or +near, the base of the building; except when raised for purposes +of defence, as in the old Scotch border towers, and our +own Martello towers, or, as in Switzerland, to permit access in +deep snow, or when stairs are carried up outside the house for +convenience or magnificence. But in most cases, whether high +or low, a door may be assumed to be considerably lower than +the apartments or buildings into which it gives admission, and +therefore to have some height of wall above it, whose weight +must be carried by the heading of the door. It is clear, therefore, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175"></a>175</span> +that the best heading must be an arch, because the +strongest, and that a square-headed door must be wrong, unless +under Mont-Cenisian masonry; or else, unless the top of the +door be the roof of the building, as in low cottages. And a +square-headed door is just so much more wrong and ugly than a +connexion of main shafts by lintels, as the weight of wall above +the door is likely to be greater than that above the main shafts. +Thus, while I admit the Greek general forms of temple to be +admirable in their kind, I think the Greek door always offensive +and unmanageable.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III.</span> We have it also determined by necessity, that the +apertures shall be at least above a man’s height, with perpendicular +sides (for sloping sides are evidently unnecessary, and +even inconvenient, therefore absurd) and level threshold; and +this aperture we at present suppose simply cut through the +wall without any bevelling of the jambs. Such a door, wide +enough for two persons to pass each other easily, and with such +fillings or valves as we may hereafter find expedient, may be +fit enough for any building into which entrance is required +neither often, nor by many persons at a time. But when +entrance and egress are constant, or +required by crowds, certain further +modifications must take place.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XLIII</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_43"><img src="images/img175.jpg" width="250" height="154" alt="Fig. XLIII" title="Fig. XLIII" /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV.</span> When entrance and egress +are constant, it may be supposed +that the valves will be absent or unfastened,—that +people will be passing +more quickly than when the entrance and egress are unfrequent, +and that the square angles of the wall will be inconvenient +to such quick passers through. It is evident, therefore, +that what would be done in time, for themselves, by the +passing multitude, should be done for them at once by the +architect; and that these angles, which would be worn away +by friction, should at once be bevelled off, or, as it is called, +splayed, and the most contracted part of the aperture made as +short as possible, so that the plan of the entrance should become +as at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_43">Fig. XLIII.</a></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page176"></a>176</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V.</span> Farther. As persons on the outside may often +approach the door or depart from it, <i>beside</i> the building, so as +to turn aside as they enter or leave the door, and therefore +touch its jamb, but, on the inside, will in almost every case +approach the door, or depart from it in the direct line of the +entrance (people generally walking <i>forward</i> when they enter a +hall, court, or chamber of any kind, and being forced to do so +when they enter a passage), it is evident that the bevelling may +be very slight on the inside, but should be large on the outside, +so that the plan of the aperture should become as at <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_43">Fig. +XLIII.</a> Farther, as the bevelled wall cannot conveniently +carry an unbevelled arch, the door arch must be bevelled also, +and the aperture, seen from the outside, will have somewhat +the aspect of a small cavern diminishing towards the interior.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI.</span> If, however, beside frequent entrance, entrance is +required for multitudes at the same time, the size of the aperture +either must be increased, or other apertures must be introduced. +It may, in some buildings, be optional with the architect +whether he shall give many small doors, or few large +ones; and in some, as theatres, amphitheatres, and other places +where the crowd are apt to be impatient, many doors are by +far the best arrangement of the two. Often, however, the +purposes of the building, as when it is to be entered by processions, +or where the crowd most usually enter in one direction, +require the large single entrance; and (for here again the +æsthetic and structural laws cannot be separated) the expression +and harmony of the building require, in nearly every case, +an entrance of largeness proportioned to the multitude which +is to meet within. Nothing is more unseemly than that a +great multitude should find its way out and in, as ants and +wasps do, through holes; and nothing more undignified than +the paltry doors of many of our English cathedrals, which look +as if they were made, not for the open egress, but for the +surreptitious drainage of a stagnant congregation. Besides, +the expression of the church door should lead us, as far as +possible, to desire at least the western entrance to be single, +partly because no man of right feeling would willingly lose the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page177"></a>177</span> +idea of unity and fellowship in going up to worship, which is +suggested by the vast single entrance; partly because it is at +the entrance that the most serious words of the building are +always addressed, by its sculptures or inscriptions, to the +worshipper; and it is well, that these words should be spoken +to all at once, as by one great voice, not broken up into weak +repetitions over minor doors.</p> + +<p>In practice the matter has been, I suppose, regulated almost +altogether by convenience, the western doors being single in +small churches, while in the larger the entrances become three +or five, the central door remaining always principal, in consequence +of the fine sense of composition which the mediæval +builders never lost. These arrangements have formed the +noblest buildings in the world. Yet it is worth observing<a name="FnAnchor_55" href="#Footnote_55"><span class="sp">55</span></a> +how perfect in its simplicity the single entrance may become, +when it is treated as in the Duomo and St. Zeno of Verona, +and other such early Lombard churches, having noble porches, +and rich sculptures grouped around the entrance.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII.</span> However, whether the entrances be single, triple, or +manifold, it is a constant law that one shall be principal, and +all shall be of size in some degree proportioned to that of +the building. And this size is, of course, chiefly to be expressed +in width, that being the only useful dimension in a +door (except for pageantry, chairing of bishops and waving of +banners, and other such vanities, not, I hope, after this century, +much to be regarded in the building of Christian temples); +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page178"></a>178</span> +but though the width is the only necessary dimension, it is well +to increase the height also in some proportion to it, in order +that there may be less weight of wall above, resting on the +increased span of the arch. This is, however, so much the +necessary result of the broad curve of the arch itself, that there +is no structural necessity of elevating the jamb; and I believe +that beautiful entrances might be made of every span of arch, +retaining the jamb at a little more than a man’s height, until +the sweep of the curves became so vast that the small vertical +line became a part of them, and one entered into the temple as +under a great rainbow.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII.</span> On the other hand, the jamb <i>may</i> be elevated indefinitely, +so that the increasing entrance retains <i>at least</i> the +proportion of width it had originally; say 4 ft. by 7 ft. 5 in. +But a less proportion of width than this has always a meagre, +inhospitable, and ungainly look except in military architecture, +where the narrowness of the entrance is necessary, and its +height adds to its grandeur, as between the entrance towers +of our British castles. This law however, observe, applies +only to true doors, not to the arches of porches, which may be +of any proportion, as of any number, being in fact intercolumniations, +not doors; as in the noble example of the west +front of Peterborough, which, in spite of the destructive +absurdity of its central arch being the narrowest, would still, +if the paltry porter’s lodge, or gatehouse, or turnpike, or whatever +it is, were knocked out of the middle of it, be the noblest +west front in England.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX.</span> Further, and finally. In proportion to the height and +size of the building, and therefore to the size of its doors, will +be the thickness of its walls, especially at the foundation, that +is to say, beside the doors; and also in proportion to the +numbers of a crowd will be the unruliness and pressure of it. +Hence, partly in necessity and partly in prudence, the splaying +or chamfering of the jamb of the larger door will be +deepened, and, if possible, made at a larger angle for the large +door than for the small one; so that the large door will always +be encompassed by a visible breadth of jamb proportioned to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page179"></a>179</span> +its own magnitude. The decorative value of this feature we +shall see hereafter.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X.</span> The second kind of apertures we have to examine +are those of windows.</p> + +<p>Window apertures are mainly of two kinds; those for outlook, +and those for inlet of light, many being for both purposes, +and either purpose, or both, combined in military architecture +with those of offence and defence. But all window +apertures, as compared with door apertures, have almost infinite +licence of form and size: they may be of any shape, from the +slit or cross slit to the circle;<a name="FnAnchor_56" href="#Footnote_56"><span class="sp">56</span></a> of any size, from the loophole +of the castle to the pillars of light of the cathedral apse. Yet, +according to their place and purpose, one or two laws of fitness +hold respecting them, which let us examine in the two +classes of windows successively, but without reference to military +architecture, which here, as before, we may dismiss as a +subject of separate science, only noticing that windows, like +all other features, are always delightful, if not beautiful, when +their position and shape have indeed been thus necessarily +determined, and that many of their most picturesque forms +have resulted from the requirements of war. We should also +find in military architecture the typical forms of the two +classes of outlet and inlet windows in their utmost development; +the greatest sweep of sight and range of shot on the +one hand, and the fullest entry of light and air on the other, +being constantly required at the smallest possible apertures. +Our business, however, is to reason out the laws for ourselves, +not to take the examples as we find them.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI.</span> 1. Outlook apertures. For these no general outline +is determinable by the necessities or inconveniences of outlooking, +except only that the bottom or sill of the windows, at +whatever height, should be horizontal, for the convenience of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page180"></a>180</span> +leaning on it, or standing on it if the window be to the ground. +The form of the upper part of the window is quite immaterial, +for all windows allow a greater range of sight when they are +<i>approached</i> than that of the eye itself: it is the approachability +of the window, that is to say, the annihilation of the thickness +of the wall, which is the real point to be attended to. If, +therefore, the aperture be inaccessible, or so small that the +thickness of the wall cannot be entered, the wall is to be +bevelled<a name="FnAnchor_57" href="#Footnote_57"><span class="sp">57</span></a> on the outside, so as to increase the range of sight as +far as possible; if the aperture can be entered, then bevelled +from the point to which entrance is possible. The bevelling +will, if possible, be in every direction, that is to say, upwards +at the top, outwards at the sides, and downwards at the bottom, +but essentially <i>downwards</i>; the earth and the doings upon it +being the chief object in outlook windows, except of observatories; +and where the object is a distinct and special view +downwards, it will be of advantage to shelter the eye as far as +possible from the rays of light coming from above, and the +head of the window may be left horizontal, or even the whole +aperture sloped outwards, as the slit in a letter-box is inwards.</p> + +<p>The best windows for outlook are, of course, oriels and bow +windows, but these are not to be considered under the head +of apertures merely; they are either balconies roofed and +glazed, and to be considered under the head of external appliances, +or they are each a story of an external semi-tower, +having true aperture windows on each side of it.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs correction" title="added a §">XII.</span> 2. Inlet windows. These windows may, of course, be +of any shape and size whatever, according to the other necessities +of the building, and the quantity and direction of light +desired, their purpose being now to throw it in streams on +particular lines or spots; now to diffuse it everywhere; sometimes +to introduce it in broad masses, tempered in strength, as +in the cathedral colored window; sometimes in starry showers +of scattered brilliancy, like the apertures in the roof of an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181"></a>181</span> +Arabian bath; perhaps the most beautiful of all forms being +the rose, which has in it the unity of both characters, and +sympathy with that of the source of light itself. It is noticeable, +however, that while both the circle and pointed oval are +beautiful window forms, it would be very painful +to cut either of them in half and connect +them by vertical lines, as in <a href="#fig_44">Fig. XLIV.</a> The +reason is, I believe, that so treated, the upper +arch is not considered as connected with the +lower, and forming an entire figure, but as the ordinary arch +roof of the aperture, and the lower arch as an arch <i>floor</i>, +equally unnecessary and unnatural. Also, the elliptical oval is +generally an unsatisfactory form, because it gives the idea of +useless trouble in building it, though it occurs quaintly and +pleasantly in the former windows of France: I believe it is also +objectionable because it has an indeterminate, slippery look, +like that of a bubble rising through a fluid. It, and all elongated +forms, are still more objectionable placed horizontally, because +this is the weakest position they can structurally have; that is +to say, less light is admitted, with greater loss of strength to +the building, than by any other form. If admissible anywhere, +it is for the sake of variety at the top of the building, +as the flat parallelogram sometimes not ungracefully in Italian +Renaissance.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XLIV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_44"><img src="images/img181.jpg" width="120" height="84" alt="Fig. XLIV." title="Fig. XLIV." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII.</span> The question of bevelling becomes a little more +complicated in the inlet than the outlook window, because +the mass or quantity of light admitted is often of more consequence +than its direction, and often <i>vice versâ</i>; and the outlook +window is supposed to be approachable, which is far +from being always the case with windows for light, so that +the bevelling which in the outlook window is chiefly to open +range of sight, is in the inlet a means not only of admitting +the light in greater quantity, but of directing it to the spot +on which it is to fall. But, in general, the bevelling of the +one window will reverse that of the other; for, first, no +natural light will strike on the inlet window from beneath, +unless reflected light, which is (I believe) injurious to the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page182"></a>182</span> +health and the sight; and thus, while in the outlook window +the outside bevel downwards is essential, in the inlet it would +be useless: and the sill is to be flat, if the window be on a +level with the spot it is to light; and sloped downwards +within, if above it. Again, as the brightest rays of light are +the steepest, the outside bevel upwards is as essential in the +roof of the inlet as it was of small importance in that of the +outlook window.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV.</span> On the horizontal section the aperture will expand +internally, a somewhat larger number of rays being thus +reflected from the jambs; and the aperture being thus the +smallest possible outside, this is the favorite military form of +inlet window, always found in magnificent development in +the thick walls of mediæval castles and convents. Its effect +is tranquil, but cheerless and dungeon-like in its fullest development, +owing to the limitation of the range of sight in the +outlook, which, if the window be unapproachable, reduces it +to a mere point of light. A modified condition of it, with +some combination of the outlook form, is probably the best +for domestic buildings in general (which, however, in modern +architecture, are unhappily so thin walled, that the outline of +the jambs becomes a matter almost of indifference), it being +generally noticeable that the depth of recess which I have +observed to be essential to nobility of external effect has also +a certain dignity of expression, as appearing to be intended +rather to admit light to persons quietly occupied in their +homes, than to stimulate or favor the curiosity of idleness.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_55" href="#FnAnchor_55"><span class="fn">55</span></a> And worth questioning, also, whether the triple porch has not been +associated with Romanist views of mediatorship; the Redeemer being +represented as presiding over the central door only, and the lateral entrances +being under the protection of saints, while the Madonna almost always has +one or both of the transepts. But it would be wrong to press this, for, in +nine cases out of ten, the architect has been merely influenced in his placing +of the statues by an artist’s desire of variety in their forms and dress; and +very naturally prefers putting a canonisation over one door, a martyrdom +over another, and an assumption over a third, to repeating a crucifixion or +a judgment above all. The architect’s doctrine is only, therefore, to be +noted with indisputable reprobation when the Madonna gets possession of +the main door.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_56" href="#FnAnchor_56"><span class="fn">56</span></a> The arch heading is indeed the best where there is much incumbent +weight, but a window frequently has very little weight above it, especially +when placed high, and the arched form loses light in a low room: therefore +the square-headed window is admissible where the square-headed door +is not.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_57" href="#FnAnchor_57"><span class="fn">57</span></a> I do not like the sound of the word “splayed;” I always shall use +“bevelled” instead.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page183"></a>183</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_17"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> + +<h5>FILLING OF APERTURE.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I.</span> <span class="sc">Thus</span> far we have been concerned with the outline only +of the aperture: we were next, it will be remembered, to +consider the necessary modes of filling it with valves in the +case of the door, or with glass or tracery in that of the +window.</p> + +<p>1. Fillings of doors. We concluded, in the previous Chapter, +that doors in buildings of any importance or size should +have headings in the form of an arch. This is, however, the +most inconvenient form we could choose, as respects the fitting +of the valves of the doorway; for the arch-shaped head of the +valves not only requires considerable nicety in fitting to the +arch, but adds largely to the weight of the door,—a double disadvantage, +straining the hinges and making it cumbersome in +opening. And this inconvenience is so much perceived by the +eye, that a door valve with a pointed head is always a disagreeable +object. It becomes, therefore, a matter of true +necessity so to arrange the doorway as to admit of its being +fitted with rectangular valves.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II.</span> Now, in determining the form of the aperture, we +supposed the jamb of the door to be of the utmost height required +for entrance. The extra height of the arch is unnecessary +as an opening, the arch being required for its strength +only, not for its elevation. There is, therefore, no reason why +it should not be barred across by a horizontal lintel, into which +the valves may be fitted, and the triangular or semicircular +arched space above the lintel may then be permanently closed, +as we choose, either with bars, or glass, or stone.</p> + +<p>This is the form of all good doors, without exception, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page184"></a>184</span> +over the whole world and in all ages, and no other can ever +be invented.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III.</span> In the simplest doors the cross lintel is of wood only, +and glass or bars occupy the space above, a very frequent form +in Venice. In more elaborate doors the cross lintel is of +stone, and the filling sometimes of brick, sometimes of stone, +very often a grand single stone being used to close the entire +space: the space thus filled is called the Tympanum. In +large doors the cross lintel is too long to bear the great incumbent +weight of this stone filling without support; it is, therefore, +carried by a pier in the centre; and two valves are used, +fitted to the rectangular spaces on each side of the pier. In +the most elaborate examples of this condition, each of these +secondary doorways has an arch heading, a cross lintel, and a +triangular filling or tympanum of its own, all subordinated to +the main arch above.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV.</span> 2. Fillings of windows.</p> + +<p>When windows are large, and to be filled with glass, the +sheet of glass, however constructed, whether of large panes or +small fragments, requires the support of bars of some kind, +either of wood, metal, or stone. Wood is inapplicable on a +large scale, owing to its destructibility; very fit for door-valves, +which can be easily refitted, and in which weight +would be an inconvenience, but very unfit for window-bars, +which, if they decayed, might let the whole window be blown +in before their decay was observed, and in which weight +would be an advantage, as offering more resistance to the +wind.</p> + +<p>Iron is, however, fit for window-bars, and there seems no +constructive reason why we should not have iron traceries, as +well as iron pillars, iron churches, and iron steeples. But I +have, in the “Seven Lamps,” given reasons for not considering +such structures as architecture at all.</p> + +<p>The window-bars must, therefore, be of stone, and of stone +only.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V.</span> The purpose of the window being always to let in as +much light, and command as much view, as possible, these +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page185"></a>185</span> +bars of stone are to be made as slender and as few as they can +be, consistently with their due strength.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XLV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_45"><img src="images/img185.jpg" width="350" height="381" alt="Fig. XLV." title="Fig. XLV." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>Let it be required to support the breadth of glass, <i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_45">Fig. +XLV.</a> The tendency of the +glass sustaining any force, as +of wind from without, is to +bend into an arch inwards, in +the dotted line, and break in +the centre. It is to be supported, +therefore, by the bar +put in its centre, <i>c</i>.</p> + +<p>But this central bar, <i>c</i>, may +not be enough, and the spaces +<i>a c</i>, <i>c b</i>, may still need support. +The next step will be +to put two bars instead of +one, and divide the window into three spaces as at <i>d</i>.</p> + +<p>But this may still not be enough, and the window may need +three bars. Now the greatest stress is always on the centre +of the window. If the three bars are equal in strength, as at +<i>e</i>, the central bar is either too slight for its work, or the lateral +bars too thick for theirs. Therefore, we must slightly increase +the thickness of the central bar, and diminish that of the +lateral ones, so as to obtain the arrangement at <i>f h</i>. If the +window enlarge farther, each of the spaces <i>f g</i>, <i>g h</i>, is treated +as the original space <i>a b</i>, and we have the groups of bars <i>k</i> +and <i>l</i>.</p> + +<p>So that, whatever the shape of the window, whatever the +direction and number of the bars, there are to be central or +main bars; second bars subordinated to them; third bars subordinated +to the second, and so on to the number required. +This is called the subordination of tracery, a system delightful +to the eye and mind, owing to its anatomical framing and +unity, and to its expression of the laws of good government in +all fragile and unstable things. All tracery, therefore, which +is not subordinated, is barbarous, in so far as this part of its +structure is concerned.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page186"></a>186</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI.</span> The next question will be the direction of the bars. +The reader will understand at once, without any laborious +proof, that a given area of glass, supported by its edges, is +stronger in its resistance to violence when it is arranged in a +long strip or band than in a square; and that, therefore, glass +is generally to be arranged, especially in windows on a large +scale, in oblong areas: and if the bars so dividing it be placed +horizontally, they will have less power of supporting themselves, +and will need to be thicker in consequence, than if +placed vertically. As far, therefore, as the form of the window +permits, they are to be vertical.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII.</span> But even when so placed, they cannot be trusted to +support themselves beyond a certain height, but will need cross +bars to steady them. Cross bars of stone are, therefore, to be +introduced at necessary intervals, not to divide the glass, but +to support the upright stone bars. The glass is always to be +divided longitudinally as far as possible, and the upright bars +which divide it supported at proper intervals. However high +the window, it is almost impossible that it should require more +than two cross bars.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII.</span> It may sometimes happen that when tall windows +are placed very close to each other for the sake of more light, +the masonry between them may stand in need, or at least be the +better of, some additional support. The cross bars of the windows +may then be thickened, in order to bond the intermediate +piers more strongly together, and if this thickness appear ungainly, +it may be modified by decoration.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX.</span> We have thus arrived at the idea of a vertical frame +work of subordinated bars, supported by cross bars at the +necessary intervals, and the only remaining question is the +method of insertion into the aperture. Whatever its form, if +we merely let the ends of the bars into the voussoirs of its +heading, the least settlement of the masonry would distort the +arch, or push up some of its voussoirs, or break the window +bars, or push them aside. Evidently our object should be to +connect the window bars among themselves, so framing them +together that they may give the utmost possible degree of support +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page187"></a>187</span> +to the whole window head in case of any settlement. But +we know how to do this already: our window bars are nothing +but small shafts. Capital them; throw small arches across between +the smaller bars, large arches over them between the +larger bars, one comprehensive arch over the whole, or else a +horizontal lintel, if the window have a flat head; and we have +a complete system of mutual support, independent of the +aperture head, and yet assisting to sustain it, if need be. But +we want the spandrils of this arch system to be themselves as +light, and to let as much light through them, as possible: and +we know already how to pierce them (<a href="#chap_12">Chap. XII.</a> § <span class="scs">VII</span>.). We +pierce them with circles; and we have, if the circles are small +and the stonework strong, the traceries of Giotto and the +Pisan school; if the circles are as large as possible and the bars +slender, those which I have already figured and described as +the only perfect traceries of the Northern Gothic.<a name="FnAnchor_58" href="#Footnote_58"><span class="sp">58</span></a> The +varieties of their design arise partly from the different size of +window and consequent number of bars; partly from the +different heights of their pointed arches, as well as the various +positions of the window head in relation to the roof, rendering +one or another arrangement better for dividing the light, and +partly from æsthetic and expressional requirements, which, +within certain limits, may be allowed a very important influence: +for the strength of the bars is ordinarily so much +greater than is absolutely necessary, that some portion of it +may be gracefully sacrificed to the attainment of variety in the +plans of tracery—a variety which, even within its severest +limits, is perfectly endless; more especially in the pointed +arch, the proportion of the tracery being in the round arch +necessarily more fixed.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X.</span> The circular window furnishes an exception to the +common law, that the bars shall be vertical through the +greater part of their length: for if they were so, they could +neither have secure perpendicular footing, nor secure heading, +their thrust being perpendicular to the curve of the voussoirs +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page188"></a>188</span> +only in the centre of the window; therefore, a small circle, +like the axle of a wheel, is put into the centre of the window, +large enough to give footing to the necessary number of +radiating bars; and the bars are arranged as spokes, being all +of course properly capitaled and arch-headed. This is the best +form of tracery for circular windows, naturally enough called +wheel windows when so filled.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. Now, I wish the reader especially to observe that we +have arrived at these forms of perfect Gothic tracery without +the smallest reference to any practice of any school, or to any +law of authority whatever. They are forms having essentially +nothing whatever to do either with Goths or Greeks. They +are eternal forms, based on laws of gravity and cohesion; and +no better, nor any others so good, will ever be invented, so +long as the present laws of gravity and cohesion subsist.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. It does not at all follow that this group of forms +owes its origin to any such course of reasoning as that which +has now led us to it. On the contrary, there is not the +smallest doubt that tracery began, partly, in the grouping of +windows together (subsequently enclosed within a large arch<a name="FnAnchor_59" href="#Footnote_59"><span class="sp">59</span></a>), +and partly in the fantastic penetrations of a single slab of +stones under the arch, as the circle in <a href="#plate_5">Plate V.</a> above. The +perfect form seems to have been accidentally struck in passing +from experiment on the one side, to affectation on the other; +and it was so far from ever becoming systematised, that I am +aware of no type of tracery for which a <i>less</i> decided preference +is shown in the buildings in which it exists. The early pierced +traceries are multitudinous and perfect in their kind,—the late +Flamboyant, luxuriant in detail, and lavish in quantity,—but +the perfect forms exist in comparatively few churches, generally +in portions of the church only, and are always connected, +and that closely, either with the massy forms out of which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189"></a>189</span> +they have emerged, or with the enervated types into which +they are instantly to degenerate.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. Nor indeed are we to look upon them as in all +points superior to the more ancient examples. We have above +conducted our reasoning entirely on the supposition that a +single aperture is given, which it is the object to fill with +glass, diminishing the power of the light as little as possible. +But there are many cases, as in triforium and cloister lights, in +which glazing is not required; in which, therefore, the bars, +if there be any, must have some more important function than +that of merely holding glass, and in which their actual use is +to give steadiness and <i>tone</i>, as it were, to the arches and walls +above and beside them; or to give the idea of protection to +those who pass along the triforium, and of seclusion to those +who walk in the cloister. Much thicker shafts, and more +massy arches, may be properly employed in work of this kind; +and many groups of such tracery will be found resolvable into +true colonnades, with the arches in pairs, or in triple or quadruple +groups, and with small rosettes pierced above them for +light. All this is just as <i>right</i> in its place, as the glass tracery +is in its own function, and often much more grand. But the +same indulgence is not to be shown to the affectations which +succeeded the developed forms. Of these there are three +principal conditions: the Flamboyant of France, the Stump +tracery of Germany, and the Perpendicular of England.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. Of these the first arose, by the most delicate and +natural transitions, out of the perfect school. It was an endeavor +to introduce more grace into its lines, and more change +into its combinations; and the æsthetic results are so beautiful, +that for some time after the right road had been left, the aberration +was more to be admired than regretted. The final conditions +became fantastic and effeminate, but, in the country +where they had been invented, never lost their peculiar grace +until they were replaced by the Renaissance. The copies of +the school in England and Italy have all its faults and none +of its beauties; in France, whatever it lost in method or +in majesty, it gained in fantasy: literally Flamboyant, it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page190"></a>190</span> +breathed away its strength into the air; but there is not more +difference between the commonest doggrel that ever broke +prose into unintelligibility, and the burning mystery of Coleridge, +or spirituality of Elizabeth Barrett, than there is between +the dissolute dulness of English Flamboyant, and the +flaming undulations of the wreathed lines of delicate stone, that +confuse themselves with the clouds of every morning sky that +brightens above the valley of the Seine.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV</span>. The second group of traceries, the intersectional or +German group, may be considered as including the entire +range of the absurd forms which were invented in order to display +dexterity in stone-cutting and ingenuity in construction. +They express the peculiar character of the German mind, +which cuts the frame of every truth joint from joint, in order +to prove the edge of its instruments; and, in all cases, prefers +a new or a strange thought to a good one, and a subtle +thought to a useful one. The point and value of the +German tracery consists principally in turning the features +of good traceries upside down, and cutting them in two +where they are properly continuous. To destroy at once foundation +and membership, and suspend everything in the air, +keeping out of sight, as far as possible, the evidences of a beginning +and the probabilities of an end, are the main objects of +German architecture, as of modern German divinity.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. This school has, however, at least the merit of ingenuity. +Not so the English Perpendicular, though a very +curious school also in <i>its</i> way. In the course of the reasoning +which led us to the determination of the perfect Gothic tracery, +we were induced successively to reject certain methods of arrangement +as weak, dangerous, or disagreeable. Collect all +these together, and practise them at once, and you have the +English Perpendicular.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XLVI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_46"><img src="images/img191.jpg" width="600" height="383" alt="Fig. XLVI." title="Fig. XLVI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>As thus. You find, in the first place (§ <span class="scs">V</span>.), that your tracery +bars are to be subordinated, less to greater; so you take +a group of, suppose, eight, which you make all exactly equal, +giving you nine equal spaces in the window, as at A, <a href="#fig_46">Fig. +XLVI.</a> You found, in the second place (§ <span class="scs">VII</span>.), that there was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page191"></a>191</span> +no occasion for more than two cross bars; so you take at least +four or five (also represented at A, <a href="#fig_46">Fig. XLVI.</a>), also carefully +equalised, and set at equal spaces. You found, in the third +place (§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>.), that these bars were to be strengthened, in order +to support the main piers; you will therefore cut the ends off +the uppermost, and the fourth into three pieces (as also at A). +In the fourth place, you found (§ <span class="scs">IX</span>.) that you were never to +run a vertical bar into the arch head; so you run them all into +it (as at B, <a href="#fig_46">Fig. XLVI.</a>); and this last arrangement will be useful +in two ways, for it will not only expose both the bars and the +archivolt to an apparent probability of every species of dislocation +at any moment, but it will provide you with two pleasing +interstices at the flanks, in the shape of carving-knives, <i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, +which, by throwing across the curves <i>c</i>, <i>d</i>, you may easily +multiply into four; and these, as you can put nothing into +their sharp tops, will afford you a more than usually rational +excuse for a little bit of Germanism, in filling them with +arches upside down, <i>e</i>, <i>f</i>. You will now have left at your disposal +two and forty similar interstices, which, for the sake of +variety, you will proceed to fill with two and forty similar +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192"></a>192</span> +arches: and, as you were told that the moment a bar received +an arch heading, it was to be treated as a shaft and capitalled, +you will take care to give your bars no capitals nor bases, but +to run bars, foliations and all, well into each other after the +fashion of cast-iron, as at C. You have still two triangular +spaces occurring in an important part of your window, <i>g g</i>, +which, as they are very conspicuous, and you cannot make +them uglier than they are, you will do wisely to let alone;—and +you will now have the west window of the cathedral of +Winchester, a very perfect example of English Perpendicular. +Nor do I think that you can, on the whole, better the arrangement, +unless, perhaps, by adding buttresses to some of the bars, +as is done in the cathedral at Gloucester; these buttresses having +the double advantage of darkening the window when seen +from within, and suggesting, when it is seen from without, the +idea of its being divided by two stout party walls, with a +heavy thrust against the glass.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII</span>. Thus far we have considered the plan of the tracery +only: we have lastly to note the conditions under which the +glass is to be attached to the bars; and the sections of the bars +themselves.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XLVII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_47"><img src="images/img192.jpg" width="120" height="83" alt="Fig. XLVII." title="Fig. XLVII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>These bars we have seen, in the perfect form, are to become +shafts; but, supposing the object to be the admission of as +much light as possible, it is clear that the thickness of the bar +ought to be chiefly in the depth of the window, and that by +increasing the depth of the bar we may diminish its breadth: +clearly, therefore, we should employ the double group of +shafts, <i>b</i>, of <a href="#fig_14">Fig. XIV.</a>, setting it edgeways in the window: +but as the glass would then come between the two shafts, we +must add a member into which it is to be fitted, as at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_47">Fig. +XLVII.</a>, and uniting these three members +together in the simplest way, with a curved +instead of a sharp recess behind the shafts, +we have the section <i>b</i>, the perfect, but simplest +type of the main tracery bars in good +Gothic. In triforium and cloister tracery, which has no glass +to hold, the central member is omitted, and we have either the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page193"></a>193</span> +pure double shaft, always the most graceful, or a single and +more massy shaft, which is the simpler and more usual form.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII</span>. Finally: there is an intermediate arrangement between +the glazed and the open tracery, that of the domestic +traceries of Venice. Peculiar conditions, hereafter to be described, +require the shafts of these traceries to become the +main vertical supports of the floors and walls. Their thickness +is therefore enormous; and yet free egress is required between +them (into balconies) which is obtained by doors in their +lattice glazing. To prevent the inconvenience and ugliness +of driving the hinges and fastenings of them into the shafts, +and having the play of the doors in the intervals, the entire +glazing is thrown behind the pillars, and attached to their abaci +and bases with iron. It is thus securely sustained by their +massy bulk, and leaves their symmetry and shade undisturbed.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIX</span>. The depth at which the glass should be placed, in +windows without traceries, will generally be fixed by the forms +of their bevelling, the glass occupying the narrowest interval; +but when its position is not thus fixed, as in many London +houses, it is to be remembered that the deeper the glass is set +(the wall being of given thickness), the more light will enter, +and the clearer the prospect will be to a person sitting quietly +in the centre of the room; on the contrary, the farther out +the glass is set, the more convenient the window will be for a +person rising and looking out of it. The one, therefore, is an +arrangement for the idle and curious, who care only about +what is going on upon the earth: the other for those who are +willing to remain at rest, so that they have free admission of +the light of Heaven. This might be noted as a curious expressional +reason for the necessity (of which no man of ordinary +feeling would doubt for a moment) of a deep recess in +the window, on the outside, to all good or architectural effect: +still, as there is no reason why people should be made idle by +having it in their power to look out of window, and as the +slight increase of light or clearness of view in the centre of a +room is more than balanced by the loss of space, and the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page194"></a>194</span> +greater chill of the nearer glass and outside air, we can, I fear, +allege no other structural reason for the picturesque external +recess, than the expediency of a certain degree of protection, +for the glass, from the brightest glare of sunshine, and heaviest +rush of rain.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_58" href="#FnAnchor_58"><span class="fn">58</span></a> “Seven Lamps,” p. 53.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_59" href="#FnAnchor_59"><span class="fn">59</span></a> On the north side of the nave of the cathedral of Lyons, there is an +early French window, presenting one of the usual groups of foliated arches +and circles, left, as it were, loose, without any enclosing curve. The effect +is very painful. This remarkable window is associated with others of the +common form.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page195"></a>195</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> + +<h5>PROTECTION OF APERTURE.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">We</span> have hitherto considered the aperture as merely +pierced in the thickness of the walls; and when its masonry +is simple and the fillings of the aperture are unimportant, it +may well remain so. But when the fillings are delicate and +of value, as in the case of colored glass, finely wrought +tracery, or sculpture, such as we shall often find occupying +the tympanum of doorways, some protection becomes necessary +against the run of the rain down the walls, and back by +the bevel of the aperture to the joints or surface of the +fillings.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. The first and simplest mode of obtaining this is by +channelling the jambs and arch head; and this is the chief +practical service of aperture mouldings, which are otherwise +entirely decorative. But as this very decorative character +renders them unfit to be made channels for rain water, it is +well to add some external roofing to the aperture, which may +protect it from the run of all the rain, except that which +necessarily beats into its own area. This protection, in its +most usual form, is a mere dripstone moulding carried over or +round the head of the aperture. But this is, in reality, only a +contracted form of a true <i>roof</i>, projecting from the wall over +the aperture; and all protections of apertures whatsoever are +to be conceived as portions of small roofs, attached to the wall +behind; and supported by it, so long as their scale admits of +their being so with safety, and afterwards in such manner +as may be most expedient. The proper forms of these, +and modes of their support, are to be the subject of our final +enquiry.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page196"></a>196</span></p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XLVIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_48"><img src="images/img196.jpg" width="150" height="508" alt="Fig. XLVIII." title="Fig. XLVIII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. Respecting their proper form we need not stay long +in doubt. A deep gable is evidently the best for throwing off +rain; even a low gable being better than a high arch. Flat +roofs, therefore, may only be used when the +nature of the building renders the gable +unsightly; as when there is not room for it +between the stories; or when the object is +rather shade than protection from rain, as +often in verandahs and balconies. But for +general service the gable is the proper and +natural form, and may be taken as representative +of the rest. Then this gable may +either project unsupported from the wall, <i>a</i>, +<a href="#fig_48">Fig. XLVIII.</a>, or be carried by brackets or +spurs, <i>b</i>, or by walls or shafts, <i>c</i>, which shafts +or walls may themselves be, in windows, +carried on a sill; and this, in its turn, supported +by brackets or spurs. We shall glance +at the applications of each of these forms in +order.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. There is not much variety in the +case of the first, <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_48">Fig. XLVIII</a>. In the +Cumberland and border cottages the door is +generally protected by two pieces of slate +arranged in a gable, giving the purest possible type of the first +form. In elaborate architecture such a projection hardly ever +occurs, and in large architecture cannot with safety occur, +without brackets; but by cutting away the greater part of the +projection, we shall arrive at the idea of a plain gabled cornice, +of which a perfect example will be found in <a href="#plate_7">Plate VII.</a> +of the folio series. With this first complete form we may +associate the rude, single, projecting, penthouse roof; imperfect, +because either it must be level and the water +lodge lazily upon it, or throw off the drip upon the persons +entering.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. 2. <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_48">Fig. XLVIII.</a> This is a most beautiful and +natural type, and is found in all good architecture, from the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197"></a>197</span> +highest to the most humble: it is a frequent form of cottage +door, more especially when carried +on spurs, being of peculiarly easy +construction in wood: as applied +to large architecture, it can evidently +be built, in its boldest and +simplest form, either of wood only, +or on a scale which will admit of +its sides being each a single slab of +stone. If so large as to require +jointed masonry, the gabled sides +will evidently require support, and +an arch must be thrown across under +them, as in <a href="#fig_49">Fig. XLIX.</a>, from +Fiesole.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. XLIX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_49"><img src="images/img197.jpg" width="300" height="359" alt="Fig. XLIX." title="Fig. XLIX." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>If we cut the projection gradually down, we arrive at the +common Gothic gable dripstone carried on small brackets, +carved into bosses, heads, or some other ornamental form; the +sub-arch in such case being useless, is removed or coincides with +the arch head of the aperture.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI.</span> 3. <i>c</i>, <a href="#fig_48">Fig. XLVIII.</a> Substituting walls or pillars for +the brackets, we may carry the projection as far out as we +choose, and form the perfect porch, either of the cottage or +village church, or of the cathedral. As we enlarge the structure, +however, certain modifications of form become necessary, +owing to the increased boldness of the required supporting +arch. For, as the lower end of the gabled roof and of the +arch cannot coincide, we have necessarily above the shafts one +of the two forms <i>a</i> or <i>b</i>, in <a href="#fig_50">Fig. L.</a>, of which the latter is +clearly the best, requiring less masonry and shorter roofing; +and when the arch becomes so large as to cause a heavy lateral +thrust, it may become necessary to provide for its farther safety +by pinnacles, <i>c</i>.</p> + +<p>This last is the perfect type of aperture protection. None +other can ever be invented so good. It is that once employed +by Giotto in the cathedral of Florence, and torn down by the +proveditore, Benedetto Uguccione, to erect a Renaissance front +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198"></a>198</span> +instead; and another such has been destroyed, not long since, +in Venice, the porch of the church of St. Apollinare, also to +put up some Renaissance upholstery: for Renaissance, as if it +were not nuisance enough in the mere fact of its own existence, +appears invariably as a beast of prey, and founds itself on +the ruin of all that is best and noblest. Many such porches, +however, happily still exist in Italy, and are among its principal +glories.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. L.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_50"><img src="images/img198.jpg" width="600" height="181" alt="Fig. L." title="Fig. L." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. When porches of this kind, carried by walls, are +placed close together, as in cases where there are many and +large entrances to a cathedral front, they would, in their general +form, leave deep and uncomfortable intervals, in which +damp would lodge and grass grow; and there would be a painful +feeling in approaching the door in the midst of a crowd, +as if some of them might miss the real doors, and be driven +into the intervals, and embayed there. Clearly it will be a +natural and right expedient, in such cases, to open the walls of +the porch wider, so that they may correspond in slope, or nearly +so, with the bevel of the doorway, and either meet each +other in the intervals, or have the said intervals closed up with +an intermediate wall, so that nobody may get embayed in +them. The porches will thus be united, and form one range +of great open gulphs or caverns, ready to receive all comers, +and direct the current of the crowd into the narrower entrances. +As the lateral thrust of the arches is now met by +each other, the pinnacles, if there were any, must be removed, +and waterspouts placed between each arch to discharge the +double drainage of the gables. This is the form of all the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page199"></a>199</span> +noble northern porches, without exception, best represented by +that of Rheims.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. Contracted conditions of the pinnacle porch are +beautifully used in the doors of the cathedral of Florence; +and the entire arrangement, in its most perfect form, as adapted +to window protection and decoration, is applied by Giotto with +inconceivable exquisiteness in the windows of the campanile; +those of the cathedral itself being all of the same type. +Various singular and delightful conditions of it are applied in +Italian domestic architecture (in the Broletto of Monza very +quaintly), being associated with balconies for speaking to the +people, and passing into pulpits. In the north we glaze the +sides of such projections, and they become bow-windows, the +shape of roofing being then nearly immaterial and very fantastic, +often a conical cap. All these conditions of window +protection, being for real service, are endlessly delightful (and +I believe the beauty of the balcony, protected by an open +canopy supported by light shafts, never yet to have been +properly worked out). But the Renaissance architects destroyed +all of them, and introduced the magnificent and witty +Roman invention of a model of a Greek pediment, with its +cornices of monstrous thickness, bracketed up above the window. +The horizontal cornice of the pediment is thus useless, +and of course, therefore, retained; the protection to the head +of the window being constructed on the principle of a hat with +its crown sewn up. But the deep and dark triangular cavity +thus obtained affords farther opportunity for putting ornament +out of sight, of which the Renaissance architects are not slow +to avail themselves.</p> + +<p>A more rational condition is the complete pediment with a +couple of shafts, or pilasters, carried on a bracketed sill; and +the windows of this kind, which have been well designed, are +perhaps the best things which the Renaissance schools have +produced: those of Whitehall are, in their way, exceedingly +beautiful; and those of the Palazzo Ricardi at Florence, in +their simplicity and sublimity, are scarcely unworthy of their +reputed designer, Michael Angelo.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page200"></a>200</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_19"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> + +<h5>SUPERIMPOSITION.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">The</span> reader has now some knowledge of every feature +of all possible architecture. Whatever the nature of the +building which may be submitted to his criticism, if it be an +edifice at all, if it be anything else than a mere heap of stones +like a pyramid or breakwater, or than a large stone hewn into +shape, like an obelisk, it will be instantly and easily resolvable +into some of the parts which we have been hitherto considering: +its pinnacles will separate themselves into their small shafts +and roofs; its supporting members into shafts and arches, or +walls penetrated by apertures of various shape, and supported +by various kinds of buttresses. Respecting each of these +several features I am certain that the reader feels himself prepared, +by understanding their plain function, to form something +like a reasonable and definite judgment, whether they +be good or bad; and this right judgment of parts will, in most +cases, lead him to just reverence or condemnation of the whole.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. The various modes in which these parts are capable +of combination, and the merits of buildings of different form +and expression, are evidently not reducible into lists, nor to +be estimated by general laws. The nobility of each building +depends on its special fitness for its own purposes; and these +purposes vary with every climate, every soil, and every national +custom: nay, there were never, probably, two edifices erected +in which some accidental difference of condition did not +require some difference of plan or of structure; so that, +respecting plan and distribution of parts, I do not hope to +collect any universal law of right; but there are a few points +necessary to be noticed respecting the means by which height +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page201"></a>201</span> +is attained in buildings of various plans, and the expediency +and methods of superimposition of one story or tier of architecture +above another.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. For, in the preceding inquiry, I have always supposed +either that a single shaft would reach to the top of the building, +or that the farther height required might be added in plain +wall above the heads of the arches; whereas it may often be +rather expedient to complete the entire lower series of arches, +or finish the lower wall, with a bold string course or cornice, +and build another series of shafts, or another wall, on the top +of it.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. This superimposition is seen in its simplest form in the +interior shafts of a Greek temple; and it has been largely used +in nearly all countries where buildings have been meant for +real service. Outcry has often been raised against it, but the +thing is so sternly necessary that it has always forced itself into +acceptance; and it would, therefore, be merely losing time to +refute the arguments of those who have attempted its disparagement. +Thus far, however, they have reason on their side, +that if a building can be kept in one grand mass, without +sacrificing either its visible or real adaptation to its objects, it +is not well to divide it into stories until it has reached proportions +too large to be justly measured by the eye. It ought +then to be divided in order to mark its bulk; and decorative +divisions are often possible, which rather increase than destroy +the expression of general unity.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. Superimposition, wisely practised, is of two kinds, +directly contrary to each other, of weight on lightness, and +of lightness on weight; while the superimposition of weight +on weight, or lightness on lightness, is nearly always wrong.</p> + +<p>1. Weight on lightness: I do not say weight on <i>weakness</i>. +The superimposition of the human body on its limbs I call +weight on lightness: the superimposition of the branches on +a tree trunk I call lightness on weight: in both cases the support +is fully adequate to the work, the form of support being +regulated by the differences of requirement. Nothing in +architecture is half so painful as the apparent want of sufficient +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page202"></a>202</span> +support when the weight above is visibly passive: for all +buildings are not passive; some seem to rise by their own +strength, or float by their own buoyancy; a dome requires no +visibility of support, one fancies it supported by the air. But +passive architecture without help for its passiveness is unendurable. +In a lately built house, No. 86, in Oxford Street, +three huge stone pillars in the second story are carried apparently +by the edges of three sheets of plate glass in the first. I +hardly know anything to match the painfulness of this and +some other of our shop structures, in which the iron-work is +concealed; nor, even when it is apparent, can the eye ever feel +satisfied of their security, when built, as at present, with fifty or +sixty feet of wall above a rod of iron not the width of this page.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. The proper forms of this superimposition of weight +on lightness have arisen, for the most part, from the necessity +or desirableness, in many situations, of elevating the inhabited +portions of buildings considerably above the ground level, +especially those exposed to damp or inundation, and the consequent +abandonment of the ground story as unserviceable, or +else the surrender of it to public purposes. Thus, in many +market and town houses, the ground story is left open as a +general place of sheltered resort, and the enclosed apartments +raised on pillars. In almost all warm countries the luxury, +almost the necessity, of arcades to protect the passengers from +the sun, and the desirableness of large space in the rooms +above, lead to the same construction. Throughout the Venetian +islet group, the houses seem to have been thus, in the first +instance, universally built, all the older palaces appearing to +have had the rez de chaussée perfectly open, the upper parts +of the palace being sustained on magnificent arches, and the +smaller houses sustained in the same manner on wooden piers, +still retained in many of the cortiles, and exhibited characteristically +throughout the main street of Murano. As ground +became more valuable and house-room more scarce, these +ground-floors were enclosed with wall veils between the original +shafts, and so remain; but the type of the structure of the +entire city is given in the Ducal Palace.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page203"></a>203</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. To this kind of superimposition we owe the most +picturesque street effects throughout the world, and the most +graceful, as well as the most grotesque, buildings, from the +many-shafted fantasy of the Alhambra (a building as beautiful +in disposition as it is base in ornamentation) to the four-legged +stolidity of the Swiss Chalet:<a name="FnAnchor_60" href="#Footnote_60"><span class="sp">60</span></a> nor these only, but great part +of the effect of our cathedrals, in which, necessarily, the close +triforium and clerestory walls are superimposed on the nave +piers; perhaps with most majesty where with greatest simplicity, +as in the old basilican types, and the noble cathedral +of Pisa.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. In order to the delightfulness and security of all +such arrangements, this law must be observed:—that in proportion +to the height of wall above them, the shafts are to +be short. You may take your given height of wall, and turn +any quantity of that wall into shaft that you like; but you +must not turn it all into tall shafts, and then put more wall +above. Thus, having a house five stories high, you may turn +the lower story into shafts, and leave the four stories in wall; +or the two lower stories into shafts, and leave three in wall; +but, whatever you add to the shaft, you must take from the +wall. Then also, of course, the shorter the shaft the thicker +will be its <i>proportionate</i>, if not its actual, diameter. In the +Ducal Palace of Venice the shortest shafts are always the +thickest.<a name="FnAnchor_61" href="#Footnote_61"><span class="sp">61</span></a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. The second kind of superimposition, lightness on +weight, is, in its most necessary use, of stories of houses one +upon another, where, of course, wall veil is required in the +lower ones, and has to support wall veil above, aided by as +much of shaft structure as is attainable within the given +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page204"></a>204</span> +limits. The greatest, if not the only, merit of the Roman +and Renaissance Venetian architects is their graceful management +of this kind of superimposition; sometimes of complete +courses of external arches and shafts one above the other; +sometimes of apertures with intermediate cornices at the levels +of the floors, and large shafts from top to bottom of the building; +always observing that the upper stories shall be at once +lighter and richer than the lower ones. The entire value of +such buildings depends upon the perfect and easy expression +of the relative strength of the stories, and the unity obtained +by the varieties of their proportions, while yet the fact of +superimposition and separation by floors is frankly told.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. In churches and other buildings in which there is no +separation by floors, another kind of pure shaft superimposition +is often used, in order to enable the builder to avail himself of +short and slender shafts. It has been noted that these are +often easily attainable, and of precious materials, when shafts +large enough and strong enough to do the work at once, could +not be obtained except at unjustifiable expense, and of coarse +stone. The architect has then no choice but to arrange his +work in successive stories; either frankly completing the arch +work and cornice of each, and beginning a new story above it, +which is the honester and nobler way, or else tying the stories +together by supplementary shafts from floor to roof,—the +general practice of the Northern Gothic, and one which, unless +most gracefully managed, gives the look of a scaffolding, with +cross-poles tied to its uprights, to the whole clerestory wall. +The best method is that which avoids all chance of the upright +shafts being supposed continuous, by increasing their number +and changing their places in the upper stories, so that the +whole work branches from the ground like a tree. This is the +superimposition of the Byzantine and the Pisan Romanesque; +the most beautiful examples of it being, I think, the Southern +portico of St. Mark’s, the church of S. Giovanni at Pistoja, +and the apse of the cathedral of Pisa. In Renaissance work +the two principles are equally distinct, though the shafts are +(I think) always one above the other. The reader may see one +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page205"></a>205</span> +of the best examples of the separately superimposed story in +Whitehall (and another far inferior in St. Paul’s), and by turning +himself round at Whitehall may compare with it the system +of connecting shafts in the Treasury; though this is a singularly +bad example, the window cornices of the first floor being +like shelves in a cupboard, and cutting the mass of the building +in two, in spite of the pillars.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. But this superimposition of lightness on weight is +still more distinctly the system of many buildings of the kind +which I have above called Architecture of Position, that is to +say, architecture of which the greater part is intended merely +to keep something in a peculiar position; as in light-houses, +and many towers and belfries. The subject of spire and tower +architecture, however, is so interesting and extensive, that I +have thoughts of writing a detached essay upon it, and, at all +events, cannot enter upon it here: but this much is enough for +the reader to note for our present purpose, that, although many +towers do in reality stand on piers or shafts, as the central +towers of cathedrals, yet the expression of all of them, and the +real structure of the best and strongest, are the elevation of +gradually diminishing weight on massy or even solid foundation. +Nevertheless, since the tower is in its origin a building +for strength of defence, and faithfulness of watch, rather than +splendor of aspect, its true expression is of just so much diminution +of weight upwards as may be necessary to its fully balanced +strength, not a jot more. There must be no light-headedness +in your noble tower: impregnable foundation, wrathful +crest, with the vizor down, and the dark vigilance seen through +the clefts of it; not the filigree crown or embroidered cap. +No towers are so grand as the square-browed ones, with massy +cornices and rent battlements: next to these come the fantastic +towers, with their various forms of steep roof; the best, not +the cone, but the plain gable thrown very high; last of all in +my mind (of good towers), those with spires or crowns, +though these, of course, are fittest for ecclesiastical purposes, +and capable of the richest ornament. The paltry four or eight +pinnacled things we call towers in England (as in York +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page206"></a>206</span> +Minster), are mere confectioner’s Gothic, and not worth +classing.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. But, in all of them, this I believe to be a point of +chief necessity,—that they shall seem to stand, and shall verily +stand, in their own strength; not by help of buttresses nor +artful balancings on this side and on that. Your noble tower +must need no help, must be sustained by no crutches, must +give place to no suspicion of decrepitude. Its office may be +to withstand war, look forth for tidings, or to point to heaven: +but it must have in its own walls the strength to do this; it is +to be itself a bulwark, not to be sustained by other bulwarks; +to rise and look forth, “the tower of Lebanon that looketh +toward Damascus,” like a stern sentinel, not like a child held +up in its nurse’s arms. A tower may, indeed, have a +kind of buttress, a projection, or subordinate tower at each of +its angles; but these are to its main body like the satellites to +a shaft, joined with its strength, and associated in its uprightness, +part of the tower itself: exactly in the proportion in +which they lose their massive unity with its body and assume +the form of true buttress walls set on its angles, the tower +loses its dignity.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. These two characters, then, are common to all noble +towers, however otherwise different in purpose or feature,—the +first, that they rise from massy foundation to lighter summits, +frowning with battlements perhaps, but yet evidently +more pierced and thinner in wall than beneath, and, in most +ecclesiastical examples, divided into rich open work: the +second, that whatever the form of the tower, it shall not appear +to stand by help of buttresses. It follows from the first +condition, as indeed it would have followed from ordinary +æsthetic requirements, that we shall have continual variation +in the arrangements of the stories, and the larger number of +apertures towards the top,—a condition exquisitely carried out +in the old Lombardic towers, in which, however small they +may be, the number of apertures is always regularly increased +towards the summit; generally one window in the lowest +stories, two in the second, then three, five, and six; often, also, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page207"></a>207</span> +one, two, four, and six, with beautiful symmetries of placing, +not at present to our purpose. We may sufficiently exemplify +the general laws of tower building by placing side by side, +drawn to the same scale, a mediæval tower, in which most of +them are simply and unaffectedly observed, and one of our +own modern towers, in which every one of them is violated, +in small space, convenient for comparison. (<a href="#plate_6">Plate VI.</a>)</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">VI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_6"><img src="images/img207.jpg" width="374" height="650" alt="TYPES OF TOWERS." title="TYPES OF TOWERS." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">TYPES OF TOWERS.<br /> + <span class="f80">BRITISH</span> + <span class="f80" style="padding-left: 10em; ">VENETIAN</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. The old tower is that of St. Mark’s at Venice, not a +very perfect example, for its top is Renaissance, but as good +Renaissance as there is in Venice; and it is fit for our present +purpose, because it owes none of its effect to ornament. It is +built as simply as it well can be to answer its purpose: no +buttresses; no external features whatever, except some huts at +the base, and the loggia, afterwards built, which, on purpose, +I have not drawn; one bold square mass of brickwork; double +walls, with an ascending inclined plane between them, with +apertures as small as possible, and these only in necessary +places, giving just the light required for ascending the stair or +slope, not a ray more; and the weight of the whole relieved +only by the double pilasters on the sides, sustaining small +arches at the top of the mass, each decorated with the scallop +or cockle shell, presently to be noticed as frequent in Renaissance +ornament, and here, for once, thoroughly well applied. +Then, when the necessary height is reached, the belfry is left +open, as in the ordinary Romanesque campanile, only the shafts +more slender, but severe and simple, and the whole crowned +by as much spire as the tower would carry, to render it more +serviceable as a landmark. The arrangement is repeated in +numberless campaniles throughout Italy.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV</span>. The one beside it is one of those of the lately built +college at Edinburgh. I have not taken it as worse than many +others (just as I have not taken the St. Mark’s tower as better +than many others); but it happens to compress our British +system of tower building into small space. The Venetian +tower rises 350 feet,<a name="FnAnchor_62" href="#Footnote_62"><span class="sp">62</span></a> and has no buttresses, though built of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page208"></a>208</span> +brick; the British tower rises 121 feet, and is built of stone, +but is supposed to be incapable of standing without two huge +buttresses on each angle. The St. Mark’s tower has a high +sloping roof, but carries it simply, requiring no pinnacles at +its angles; the British tower has no visible roof, but has four +pinnacles for mere ornament. The Venetian tower has its +lightest part at the top, and is massy at the base; the British +tower has its lightest part at the base, and shuts up its windows +into a mere arrowslit at the top. What the tower was built +for at all must therefore, it seems to me, remain a mystery to +every beholder; for surely no studious inhabitant of its upper +chambers will be conceived to be pursuing his employments +by the light of the single chink on each side; and, had it been +intended for a belfry, the sound of its bells would have been +as effectually prevented from getting out as the light from +getting in.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. In connexion with the subject of towers and of +superimposition, one other feature, not conveniently to be +omitted from our house-building, requires a moment’s notice,—the +staircase.</p> + +<p>In modern houses it can hardly be considered an architectural +feature, and is nearly always an ugly one, from its being +apparently without support. And here I may not unfitly note +the important distinction, which perhaps ought to have been +dwelt upon in some places before now, between the <i>marvellous</i> +and the <i>perilous</i> in apparent construction. There are many +edifices which are awful or admirable in their height, and +lightness, and boldness of form, respecting which, nevertheless, +we have no fear that they should fall. Many a mighty +dome and aërial aisle and arch may seem to stand, as I said, +by miracle, but by steadfast miracle notwithstanding; there is +no fear that the miracle should cease. We have a sense of +inherent power in them, or, at all events, of concealed and +mysterious provision for their safety. But in leaning towers, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page209"></a>209</span> +as of Pisa or Bologna, and in much minor architecture, passive +architecture, of modern times, we feel that there is but a +chance between the building and destruction; that there is no +miraculous life in it, which animates it into security, but an +obstinate, perhaps vain, resistance to immediate danger. The +appearance of this is often as strong in small things as in +large; in the sounding-boards of pulpits, for instance, when +sustained by a single pillar behind them, so that one is in +dread, during the whole sermon, of the preacher being crushed +if a single nail should give way; and again, the modern geometrical +unsupported staircase. There is great disadvantage, +also, in the arrangement of this latter, when room is of value; +and excessive ungracefulness in its awkward divisions of the +passage walls, or windows. In mediæval architecture, where +there was need of room, the staircase was spiral, and enclosed +generally in an exterior tower, which added infinitely to the +picturesque effect of the building; nor was the stair itself +steeper nor less commodious than the ordinary compressed +straight staircase of a modern dwelling-house. Many of the +richest towers of domestic architecture owe their origin to this +arrangement. In Italy the staircase is often in the open air, +surrounding the interior court of the house, and giving access +to its various galleries or loggias: in this case it is almost always +supported by bold shafts and arches, and forms a most +interesting additional feature of the cortile, but presents no +peculiarity of construction requiring our present examination.</p> + +<p>We may here, therefore, close our inquiries into the subject +of construction; nor must the reader be dissatisfied with +the simplicity or apparent barrenness of their present results. +He will find, when he begins to apply them, that they are of +more value than they now seem; but I have studiously avoided +letting myself be drawn into any intricate question, because I +wished to ask from the reader only so much attention as it +seemed that even the most indifferent would not be unwilling +to pay to a subject which is hourly becoming of greater practical +interest. Evidently it would have been altogether beside +the purpose of this essay to have entered deeply into the abstract +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page210"></a>210</span> +science, or closely into the mechanical detail, of construction: +both have been illustrated by writers far more +capable of doing so than I, and may be studied at the reader’s +discretion; all that has been here endeavored was the leading +him to appeal to something like definite principle, and refer +to the easily intelligible laws of convenience and necessity, +whenever he found his judgment likely to be overborne by +authority on the one hand, or dazzled by novelty on the other. +If he has time to do more, and to follow out in all their brilliancy +the mechanical inventions of the great engineers and +architects of the day, I, in some sort, envy him, but must part +company with him: for my way lies not along the viaduct, +but down the quiet valley which its arches cross, nor through +the tunnel, but up the hill-side which its cavern darkens, to +see what gifts Nature will give us, and with what imagery she +will fill our thoughts, that the stones we have ranged in rude +order may now be touched with life; nor lose for ever, in +their hewn nakedness, the voices they had of old, when the +valley streamlet eddied round them in palpitating light, and +the winds of the hill-side shook over them the shadows of the +fern.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_60" href="#FnAnchor_60"><span class="fn">60</span></a> I have spent much of my life among the Alps; but I never pass, without +some feeling of new surprise, the Chalet, standing on its four pegs (each +topped with a flat stone), balanced in the fury of Alpine winds. It is not, +perhaps, generally known that the chief use of the arrangement is not so +much to raise the building above the snow, as to get a draught of wind +beneath it, which may prevent the drift from rising against its sides.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_61" href="#FnAnchor_61"><span class="fn">61</span></a> <a href="#app_20">Appendix 20</a>, “Shafts of the Ducal Palace.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_62" href="#FnAnchor_62"><span class="fn">62</span></a> I have taken Professor Willis’s estimate; there being discrepancy +among various statements. I did not take the trouble to measure the +height myself, the building being one which does not come within the +range of our future inquiries; and its exact dimensions, even here, are of +no importance as respects the question at issue.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page211"></a>211</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_20"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h3> + +<h5>THE MATERIAL OF ORNAMENT.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">We</span> enter now on the second division of our subject. +We have no more to do with heavy stones and hard lines; we +are going to be happy: to look round in the world and discover +(in a serious manner always, however, and under a sense +of responsibility) what we like best in it, and to enjoy the same +at our leisure: to gather it, examine it, fasten all we can of it +into imperishable forms, and put it where we may see it for +ever.</p> + +<p>This is to decorate architecture.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. There are, therefore, three steps in the process: first, +to find out in a grave manner what we like best; secondly, +to put as much of this as we can (which is little enough) into +form; thirdly, to put this formed abstraction into a proper +place.</p> + +<p>And we have now, therefore, to make these three inquiries +in succession: first, what we like, or what is the right material +of ornament; then how we are to present it, or its right treatment; +then, where we are to put it, or its right place. I think +I can answer that first inquiry in this Chapter, the second inquiry +in the next Chapter, and the third I shall answer in a +more diffusive manner, by taking up in succession the several +parts of architecture above distinguished, and rapidly noting +the kind of ornament fittest for each.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. I said in chapter II. § <span class="scs">XIV</span>., that all noble ornamentation +was the expression of man’s delight in God’s work. This +implied that there was an <i>ig</i>noble ornamentation, which was +the expression of man’s delight in his <i>own</i>. There is such a +school, chiefly degraded classic and Renaissance, in which the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page212"></a>212</span> +ornament is composed of imitations of tilings made by man. I +think, before inquiring what we like best of God’s work, we +had better get rid of all this imitation of man’s, and be quite +sure we do not like <i>that</i>.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. We shall rapidly glance, then, at the material of decoration +hence derived. And now I cannot, as I before have +done respecting construction, <i>convince</i> the reader of one thing +being wrong, and another right. I have confessed as much +again and again; I am now only to make appeal to him, and +cross-question him, whether he really does like things or not. +If he likes the ornament on the base of the column of the Place +Vendôme, composed of Wellington boots and laced frock coats, +I cannot help it; I can only say I differ from him, and don’t +like it. And if, therefore, I speak dictatorially, and say this +is base, or degraded, or ugly, I mean, only that I believe men +of the longest experience in the matter would either think it +so, or would be prevented from thinking it so only by some +morbid condition of their minds; and I believe that the reader, +if he examine himself candidly, will usually agree in my +statements.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. The subjects of ornament found in man’s work may +properly fall into four heads: 1. Instruments of art, agriculture, +and war; armor, and dress; 2. Drapery; 3. Shipping; 4. +Architecture itself.</p> + +<p>1. Instruments, armor, and dress.</p> + +<p>The custom of raising trophies on pillars, and of dedicating +arms in temples, appears to have first suggested the idea of +employing them as the subjects of sculptural ornament: +thenceforward, this abuse has been chiefly characteristic of +classical architecture, whether true or Renaissance. Armor is +a noble thing in its proper service and subordination to the +body; so is an animal’s hide on its back; but a heap of cast +skins, or of shed armor, is alike unworthy of all regard or imitation. +We owe much true sublimity, and more of delightful +picturesqueness, to the introduction of armor both in painting +and sculpture: in poetry it is better still,—Homer’s undressed +Achilles is less grand than his crested and shielded Achilles, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page213"></a>213</span> +though Phidias would rather have had him naked; in all mediæval +painting, arms, like all other parts of costume, are treated +with exquisite care and delight; in the designs of Leonardo, +Raffaelle, and Perugino, the armor sometimes becomes almost +too conspicuous from the rich and endless invention bestowed +upon it; while Titian and Rubens seek in its flash what the +Milanese and Perugian sought in its form, sometimes subordinating +heroism to the light of the steel, while the great +designers wearied themselves in its elaborate fancy.</p> + +<p>But all this labor was given to the living, not the dead +armor; to the shell with its animal in it, not the cast shell of +the beach; and even so, it was introduced more sparingly by +the good sculptors than the good painters; for the former felt, +and with justice, that the painter had the power of conquering +the over prominence of costume by the expression and color +of the countenance, and that by the darkness of the eye, and +glow of the cheek, he could always conquer the gloom and the +flash of the mail; but they could hardly, by any boldness or +energy of the marble features, conquer the forwardness and +conspicuousness of the sharp armorial forms. Their armed +figures were therefore almost always subordinate, their principal +figures draped or naked, and their choice of subject was much +influenced by this feeling of necessity. But the Renaissance +sculptors displayed the love of a Camilla for the mere crest and +plume. Paltry and false alike in every feeling of their narrowed +minds, they attached themselves, not only to costume +without the person, but to the pettiest details of the costume +itself. They could not describe Achilles, but they could describe +his shield; a shield like those of dedicated spoil, without +a handle, never to be waved in the face of war. And then we +have helmets and lances, banners and swords, sometimes with +men to hold them, sometimes without; but always chiselled +with a tailor-like love of the chasing or the embroidery,—show +helmets of the stage, no Vulcan work on them, no heavy hammer +strokes, no Etna fire in the metal of them, nothing but +pasteboard crests and high feathers. And these, cast together +in disorderly heaps, or grinning vacantly over keystones, form +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page214"></a>214</span> +one of the leading decorations of Renaissance architecture, and +that one of the best; for helmets and lances, however loosely +laid, are better than violins, and pipes, and books of music, +which were another of the Palladian and Sansovinian sources +of ornament. Supported by ancient authority, the abuse soon +became a matter of pride, and since it was easy to copy a heap +of cast clothes, but difficult to manage an arranged design of +human figures, the indolence of architects came to the aid of +their affectation, until by the moderns we find the practice carried +out to its most interesting results, and, as above noted, a +large pair of boots occupying the principal place in the bas-reliefs +on the base of the Colonne Vendôme.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. A less offensive, because singularly grotesque, example +of the abuse at its height, occurs in the Hôtel des Invalides, +where the dormer windows are suits of armor down to the +bottom of the corselet, crowned by the helmet, and with the +window in the middle of the breast.</p> + +<p>Instruments of agriculture and the arts are of less frequent +occurrence, except in hieroglyphics, and other work, where +they are not employed as ornaments, but represented for the +sake of accurate knowledge, or as symbols. Wherever they +have purpose of this kind, they are of course perfectly right; +but they are then part of the building’s conversation, not conducive +to its beauty. The French have managed, with great +dexterity, the representation of the machinery for the elevation +of their Luxor obelisk, now sculptured on its base.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. 2. Drapery. I have already spoken of the error of +introducing drapery, as such, for ornament, in the “Seven +Lamps.” I may here note a curious instance of the abuse in +the church of the Jesuiti at Venice (Renaissance). On first +entering you suppose that the church, being in a poor quarter +of the city, has been somewhat meanly decorated by heavy +green and white curtains of an ordinary upholsterer’s pattern: +on looking closer, they are discovered to be of marble, with the +green pattern inlaid. Another remarkable instance is in a piece +of not altogether unworthy architecture at Paris (Rue Rivoli), +where the columns are supposed to be decorated with images +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page215"></a>215</span> +of handkerchiefs tied in a stout knot round the middle of them. +This shrewd invention bids fair to become a new order. Multitudes +of massy curtains and various upholstery, more or less +in imitation of that of the drawing-room, are carved and gilt, +in wood or stone, about the altars and other theatrical portions +of Romanist churches; but from these coarse and senseless vulgarities +we may well turn, in all haste, to note, with respect as +well as regret, one of the errors of the great school of Niccolo +Pisano,—an error so full of feeling as to be sometimes all but +redeemed, and altogether forgiven,—the sculpture, namely, of +curtains around the recumbent statues upon tombs, curtains +which angels are represented as withdrawing, to gaze upon the +faces of those who are at rest. For some time the idea was +simply and slightly expressed, and though there was always a +painfulness in finding the shafts of stone, which were felt to be +the real supporters of the canopy, represented as of yielding +drapery, yet the beauty of the angelic figures, and the tenderness +of the thought, disarmed all animadversion. But the +scholars of the Pisani, as usual, caricatured when they were +unable to invent; and the quiet curtained canopy became a +huge marble tent, with a pole in the centre of it. Thus vulgarised, +the idea itself soon disappeared, to make room for urns, +torches, and weepers, and the other modern paraphernalia of +the churchyard.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. 3. Shipping. I have allowed this kind of subject to +form a separate head, owing to the importance of rostra in +Roman decoration, and to the continual occurrence of naval +subjects in modern monumental bas-relief. Mr. Fergusson +says, somewhat doubtfully, that he perceives a “<i>kind</i> of +beauty” in a ship: I say, without any manner of doubt, that +a ship is one of the loveliest things man ever made, and one of +the noblest; nor do I know any lines, out of divine work, so +lovely as those of the head of a ship, or even as the sweep of +the timbers of a small boat, not a race boat, a mere floating +chisel, but a broad, strong, sea boat, able to breast a wave and +break it: and yet, with all this beauty, ships cannot be made +subjects of sculpture. No one pauses in particular delight +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page216"></a>216</span> +beneath the pediments of the Admiralty; nor does scenery of +shipping ever become prominent in bas-relief without destroying +it: witness the base of the Nelson pillar. It may be, and +must be sometimes, introduced in severe subordination to the +figure subject, but just enough to indicate the scene; sketched +in the lightest lines on the background; never with any +attempt at realisation, never with any equality to the force of +the figures, unless the whole purpose of the subject be picturesque. +I shall explain this exception presently, in speaking +of imitative architecture.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. There is one piece of a ship’s fittings, however, which +may be thought to have obtained acceptance as a constant +element of architectural ornament,—the cable: it is not, however, +the cable itself, but its abstract form, a group of twisted +lines (which a cable only exhibits in common with many natural +objects), which is indeed beautiful as an ornament. Make +the resemblance complete, give to the stone the threads and +character of the cable, and you may, perhaps, regard the sculpture +with curiosity, but never more with admiration. Consider +the effect of the base of the statue of King William IV. at +the end of London Bridge.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. 4. Architecture itself. The erroneous use of armor, or +dress, or instruments, or shipping, as decorative subject, is +almost exclusively confined to bad architecture—Roman or +Renaissance. But the false use of architecture itself, as an +ornament of architecture, is conspicuous even in the mediæval +work of the best times, and is a grievous fault in some of its +noblest examples.</p> + +<p>It is, therefore, of great importance to note exactly at what +point this abuse begins, and in what it consists.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. In all bas-relief, architecture may be introduced as an +explanation of the scene in which the figures act; but with +more or less prominence in the <i>inverse ratio of the importance +of the figures</i>.</p> + +<p>The metaphysical reason of this is, that where the figures +are of great value and beauty, the mind is supposed to be engaged +wholly with them; and it is an impertinence to disturb +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217"></a>217</span> +its contemplation of them by any minor features whatever. +As the figures become of less value, and are regarded with less +intensity, accessory subjects may be introduced, such as the +thoughts may have leisure for.</p> + +<p>Thus, if the figures be as large as life, and complete statues, +it is gross vulgarity to carve a temple above them, or distribute +them over sculptured rocks, or lead them up steps into pyramids: +I need hardly instance Canova’s works,<a name="FnAnchor_63" href="#Footnote_63"><span class="sp">63</span></a> and the Dutch +pulpit groups, with fishermen, boats, and nets, in the midst of +church naves.</p> + +<p>If the figures be in bas-relief, though as large as life, the +scene may be explained by lightly traced outlines: this is +admirably done in the Ninevite marbles.</p> + +<p>If the figures be in bas-relief, or even alto-relievo, but less +than life, and if their purpose is rather to enrich a space and +produce picturesque shadows, than to draw the thoughts +entirely to themselves, the scenery in which they act may become +prominent. The most exquisite examples of this treatment +are the gates of Ghiberti. What would that Madonna +of the Annunciation be, without the little shrine into which +she shrinks back? But all mediæval work is full of delightful +examples of the same kind of treatment: the gates of +hell and of paradise are important pieces, both of explanation +and effect, in all early representations of the last judgment, or +of the descent into Hades. The keys of St. Peter, and the +crushing flat of the devil under his own door, when it is beaten +in, would hardly be understood without the respective gate-ways +above. The best of all the later capitals of the Ducal +Palace of Venice depends for great part of its value on the +richness of a small campanile, which is pointed to proudly by +a small emperor in a turned-up hat, who, the legend informs +us, is “Numa Pompilio, imperador, edifichador di tempi e +chiese.”</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. Shipping may be introduced, or rich fancy of vestments, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page218"></a>218</span> +crowns, and ornaments, exactly on the same conditions +as architecture; and if the reader will look back to my definition +of the picturesque in the “Seven Lamps,” he will see +why I said, above, that they might only be prominent when +the purpose of the subject was partly picturesque; that is to +say, when the mind is intended to derive part of its enjoyment +from the parasitical qualities and accidents of the thing, not +from the heart of the thing itself.</p> + +<p>And thus, while we must regret the flapping sails in the +death of Nelson in Trafalgar Square, we may yet most heartily +enjoy the sculpture of a storm in one of the bas-reliefs of the +tomb of St. Pietro Martire in the church of St. Eustorgio at +Milan, where the grouping of the figures is most fancifully +complicated by the undercut cordage of the vessel.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. In all these instances, however, observe that the permission +to represent the human work as an ornament, is conditional +on its being necessary to the representation of a scene, +or explanation of an action. On no terms whatever could any +such subject be independently admissible.</p> + +<p class="mb">Observe, therefore, the use of manufacture as ornament is—</p> + +<p class="nomarg">1. With heroic figure sculpture, not admissible at all.</p> +<p class="nomarg">2. With picturesque figure sculpture, admissible in the degree of its picturesqueness.</p> +<p class="nomarg">3. Without figure sculpture, not admissible at all.</p> + +<p class="mt">So also in painting: Michael Angelo, in the Sistine Chapel, +would not have willingly painted a dress of figured damask +or of watered satin; his was heroic painting, not admitting +accessories.</p> + +<p>Tintoret, Titian, Veronese, Rubens, and Vandyck, would +be very sorry to part with their figured stuffs and lustrous +silks; and sorry, observe, exactly in the degree of their picturesque +feeling. Should not <i>we</i> also be sorry to have Bishop +Ambrose without his vest, in that picture of the National +Gallery?</p> + +<p>But I think Vandyck would not have liked, on the other +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page219"></a>219</span> +hand, the vest without the bishop. I much doubt if Titian or +Veronese would have enjoyed going into Waterloo House, +and making studies of dresses upon the counter.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. So, therefore, finally, neither architecture nor any +other human work is admissible as an ornament, except in +subordination to figure subject. And this law is grossly and +painfully violated by those curious examples of Gothic, both +early and late, in the north, (but late, I think, exclusively, in +Italy,) in which the minor features of the architecture were +composed of <i>small models</i> of the larger: examples which led +the way to a series of abuses materially affecting the life, +strength, and nobleness of the Northern Gothic,—abuses +which no Ninevite, nor Egyptian, nor Greek, nor Byzantine, +nor Italian of the earlier ages would have endured for an +instant, and which strike me with renewed surprise whenever +I pass beneath a portal of thirteenth century Northern Gothic, +associated as they are with manifestations of exquisite feeling +and power in other directions. The porches of Bourges, +Amiens, Notre Dame of Paris, and Notre Dame of Dijon, +may be noted as conspicuous in error: small models of feudal +towers with diminutive windows and battlements, of cathedral +spires with scaly pinnacles, mixed with temple pediments +and nondescript edifices of every kind, are crowded together +over the recess of the niche into a confused fool’s cap for the +saint below. Italian Gothic is almost entirely free from the +taint of this barbarism until the Renaissance period, when it +becomes rampant in the cathedral of Como and Certosa of +Pavia; and at Venice we find the Renaissance churches decorated +with models of fortifications like those in the Repository +at Woolwich, or inlaid with mock arcades in pseudo-perspective, +copied from gardeners’ paintings at the ends of +conservatories.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV</span>. I conclude, then, with the reader’s leave, that all +ornament is base which takes for its subject human work, that +it is utterly base,—painful to every rightly-toned mind, without +perhaps immediate sense of the reason, but for a reason palpable +enough when we <i>do</i> think of it. For to carve our own +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page220"></a>220</span> +work, and set it up for admiration, is a miserable self-complacency, +a contentment in our own wretched doings, when we +might have been looking at God’s doings. And all noble +ornament is the exact reverse of this. It is the expression of +man’s delight in God’s work.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. For observe, the function of ornament is to make +you happy. Now in what are you rightly happy? Not in +thinking of what you have done yourself; not in your own +pride, not your own birth; not in your own being, or your +own will, but in looking at God; watching what He does, +what He is; and obeying His law, and yielding yourself to +His will.</p> + +<p>You are to be made happy by ornaments; therefore they +must be the expression of all this. Not copies of your own +handiwork; not boastings of your own grandeur; not heraldries; +not king’s arms, nor any creature’s arms, but God’s arm, +seen in His work. Not manifestation of your delight in your +own laws, or your own liberties, or your own inventions; but +in divine laws, constant, daily, common laws;—not Composite +laws, nor Doric laws, nor laws of the five orders, but of the +Ten Commandments.</p> + +<p class="mb">§ <span class="scs">XVII</span>. Then the proper material of ornament will be whatever +God has created; and its proper treatment, that which +seems in accordance with or symbolical of His laws. And, +for material, we shall therefore have, first, the abstract lines +which are most frequent in nature; and then, from lower to +higher, the whole range of systematised inorganic and organic +forms. We shall rapidly glance in order at their kinds; and, +however absurd the elemental division of inorganic matter by +the ancients may seem to the modern chemist, it is one so grand +and simple for arrangements of external appearances, that I +shall here follow it; noticing first, after abstract lines, the +imitable forms of the four elements, of Earth, Water, Fire, +and Air, and then those of animal organisms. It may be convenient +to the reader to have the order stated in a clear succession +at first, thus:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page221"></a>221</span></p> + +<p class="nomarg"> 1. Abstract lines.</p> +<p class="nomarg"> 2. Forms of Earth (Crystals).</p> +<p class="nomarg"> 3. Forms of Water (Waves).</p> +<p class="nomarg"> 4. Forms of Fire (Flames and Rays).</p> +<p class="nomarg"> 5. Forms of Air (Clouds).</p> +<p class="nomarg"> 6. (Organic forms.) Shells.</p> +<p class="nomarg"> 7. Fish.</p> +<p class="nomarg"> 8. Reptiles and insects.</p> +<p class="nomarg"> 9. Vegetation (A.) Stems and Trunks.</p> +<p class="nomarg">10. Vegetation (B.) Foliage.</p> +<p class="nomarg">11. Birds.</p> +<p class="nomarg">12. Mammalian animals and Man.</p> + +<p class="mt">It may be objected that clouds are a form of moisture, not +of air. They are, however, a perfect expression of aërial states +and currents, and may sufficiently well stand for the element +they move in. And I have put vegetation apparently somewhat +out of its place, owing to its vast importance as a means +of decoration, and its constant association with birds and men.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII</span>. 1. Abstract lines. I have not with lines named +also shades and colors, for this evident reason, that there are +no such things as abstract shadows, irrespective of the forms +which exhibit them, and distinguished in their own nature +from each other; and that the arrangement of shadows, in +greater or less quantity, or in certain harmonical successions, +is an affair of treatment, not of selection. And when we use +abstract colors, we are in fact using a part of nature herself,—using +a quality of her light, correspondent with that of the +air, to carry sound; and the arrangement of color in harmonious +masses is again a matter of treatment, not selection. +Yet even in this separate art of coloring, as referred to architecture, +it is very notable that the best tints are always those +of natural stones. These can hardly be wrong; I think I +never yet saw an offensive introduction of the natural colors of +marble and precious stones, unless in small mosaics, and in one +or two glaring instances of the resolute determination to produce +something ugly at any cost. On the other hand, I have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page222"></a>222</span> +most assuredly never yet seen a painted building, ancient or +modern, which seemed to me quite right.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIX</span>. Our first constituents of ornament will therefore be +abstract lines, that is to say, the most frequent contours of +natural objects, transferred to architectural forms when it is +not right or possible to render such forms distinctly imitative. +For instance, the line or curve of the edge of a leaf may be +accurately given to the edge of a stone, without rendering the +stone in the least <i>like</i> a leaf, or suggestive of a leaf; and this +the more fully, because the lines of nature are alike in all her +works; simpler or richer in combination, but the same in +character; and when they are taken out of their combinations +it is impossible to say from which of her works they have been +borrowed, their universal property being that of ever-varying +curvature in the most subtle and subdued transitions, with +peculiar expressions of motion, elasticity, or dependence, which +I have already insisted upon at some length in the chapters on +typical beauty in “Modern Painters.” But, that the reader +may here be able to compare them for himself as deduced from +different sources, I have drawn, as accurately as I can, on the +opposite plate, some ten or eleven lines from natural forms of +very different substances and scale: the first, <i>a b</i>, is in the original, +I think, the most beautiful simple curve I have ever seen in my +life; it is a curve about three quarters of a mile long, formed +by the surface of a small glacier of the second order, on a spur +of the Aiguille de Blaitière (Chamouni). I have merely outlined +the crags on the right of it, to show their sympathy and +united action with the curve of the glacier, which is of course +entirely dependent on their opposition to its descent; softened, +however, into unity by the snow, which rarely melts on this +high glacier surface.</p> + +<p>The line <i>d c</i> is some mile and a half or two miles long; it is +part of the flank of the chain of the Dent d’Oche above the +lake of Geneva, one or two of the lines of the higher and more +distant ranges being given in combination with it.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">VII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_7"><img src="images/img222.jpg" width="650" height="384" alt="ABSTRACT LINES." title="ABSTRACT LINES." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">ABSTRACT LINES.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p><i>h</i> is a line about four feet long, a branch of spruce fir. I +have taken this tree because it is commonly supposed to be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page223"></a>223</span> +stiff and ungraceful; its outer sprays are, however, more noble +in their sweep than almost any that I know: but this fragment +is seen at great disadvantage, because placed upside down, in +order that the reader may compare its curvatures with <i>c d</i>, <i>e g</i>, +and <i>i k</i>, which are all mountain lines; <i>e g</i>, about five hundred +feet of the southern edge of the Matterhorn; <i>i k</i>, the entire +slope of the Aiguille Bouchard, from its summit into the valley +of Chamouni, a line some three miles long; <i>l m</i> is the line of +the side of a willow leaf traced by laying the leaf on the paper; +<i>n o</i>, one of the innumerable groups of curves at the lip of a +paper Nautilus; <i>p</i>, a spiral, traced on the paper round a Serpula; +<i>q r</i>, the leaf of the Alisma Plantago with its interior +ribs, real size; <i>s t</i>, the side of a bay-leaf; <i>u w</i>, of a salvia leaf; +and it is to be carefully noted that these last curves, being +never intended by nature to be seen singly, are more heavy and +less agreeable than any of the others which would be seen as +independent lines. But all agree in their character of changeful +curvature, the mountain and glacier lines only excelling the +rest in delicacy and richness of transition.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XX</span>. Why lines of this kind are beautiful, I endeavored to +show in the “Modern Painters;” but one point, there omitted, +may be mentioned here,—that almost all these lines are expressive +of action of <i>force</i> of some kind, while the circle is a line +of limitation or support. In leafage they mark the forces of +its growth and expansion, but some among the most beautiful +of them are described by bodies variously in motion, or subjected +to force; as by projectiles in the air, by the particles of +water in a gentle current, by planets in motion in an orbit, by +their satellites, if the actual path of the satellite in space be +considered instead of its relation to the planet; by boats, or +birds, turning in the water or air, by clouds in various action +upon the wind, by sails in the curvatures they assume under its +force, and by thousands of other objects moving or bearing +force. In the Alisma leaf, <i>q r</i>, the lines through its body, +which are of peculiar beauty, mark the different expansions of +its fibres, and are, I think, exactly the same as those which +would be traced by the currents of a river entering a lake of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page224"></a>224</span> +the shape of the leaf, at the end where the stalk is, and passing +out at its point. Circular curves, on the contrary, are always, +I think, curves of limitation or support; that is to say, curves +of perfect rest. The cylindrical curve round the stem of a +plant binds its fibres together; while the <i>ascent</i> of the stem is +in lines of various curvature: so the curve of the horizon and +of the apparent heaven, of the rainbow, etc.: and though the +reader might imagine that the circular orbit of any moving +body, or the curve described by a sling, was a curve of motion, +he should observe that the circular character is given to the +curve not by the motion, but by the confinement: the circle is +the consequence not of the energy of the body, but of its being +forbidden to leave the centre; and whenever the whirling or +circular motion can be fully impressed on it we obtain instant +balance and rest with respect to the centre of the circle.</p> + +<p>Hence the peculiar fitness of the circular curve as a sign of +rest, and security of support, in arches; while the other curves, +belonging especially to action, are to be used in the more active +architectural features—the hand and foot (the capital and base), +and in all minor ornaments; more freely in proportion to their +independence of structural conditions.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXI</span>. We need not, however, hope to be able to imitate, +in general work, any of the subtly combined curvatures of +nature’s highest designing: on the contrary, their extreme +refinement renders them unfit for coarse service or material. +Lines which are lovely in the pearly film of the Nautilus shell, +are lost in the grey roughness of stone; and those which are +sublime in the blue of far away hills, are weak in the substance +of incumbent marble. Of all the graceful lines assembled on +<a href="#plate_7">Plate VII.</a>, we shall do well to be content with two of the simplest. +We shall take one mountain line (<i>e g</i>) and one leaf line +(<i>u w</i>), or rather fragments of them, for we shall perhaps not +want them all. I will mark off from <i>u w</i> the little bit <i>x y</i>, and +from <i>e g</i> the piece <i>e f</i>; both which appear to me likely to be +serviceable: and if hereafter we need the help of any abstract +lines, we will see what we can do with these only.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXII</span>. 2. Forms of Earth (Crystals). It may be asked why +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page225"></a>225</span> +I do not say rocks or mountains? Simply, because the nobility +of these depends, first, on their scale, and, secondly, on accident. +Their scale cannot be represented, nor their accident +systematised. No sculptor can in the least imitate the peculiar +character of accidental fracture: he can obey or exhibit the +laws of nature, but he cannot copy the felicity of her fancies, +nor follow the steps of her fury. The very glory of a mountain +is in the revolutions which raised it into power, and the +forces which are striking it into ruin. But we want no cold +and careful imitation of catastrophe; no calculated mockery of +convulsion; no delicate recommendation of ruin. We are to +follow the labor of Nature, but not her disturbance; to imitate +what she has deliberately ordained,<a name="FnAnchor_64" href="#Footnote_64"><span class="sp">64</span></a> not what she has violently +suffered, or strangely permitted. The only uses, therefore, of +rock form which are wise in the architect, are its actual introduction +(by leaving untouched such blocks as are meant for +rough service), and that noble use of the general examples of +mountain structure of which I have often heretofore spoken. +Imitations of rock form have, for the most part, been confined +to periods of degraded feeling and to architectural toys or +pieces of dramatic effect,—the Calvaries and holy sepulchres of +Romanism, or the grottoes and fountains of English gardens. +They were, however, not unfrequent in mediæval bas-reliefs; +very curiously and elaborately treated by Ghiberti on the doors +of Florence, and in religious sculpture necessarily introduced +wherever the life of the anchorite was to be expressed. They +were rarely introduced as of ornamental character, but for +particular service and expression; we shall see an interesting +example in the Ducal Palace at Venice.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIII</span>. But against crystalline form, which is the completely +systematised natural structure of the earth, none of +these objections hold good, and, accordingly, it is an endless +element of decoration, where higher conditions of structure +cannot be represented. The four-sided pyramid, perhaps the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page226"></a>226</span> +most frequent of all natural crystals, is called in architecture +a dogtooth; its use is quite limitless, and always beautiful: the +cube and rhomb are almost equally frequent in chequers and +dentils: and all mouldings of the middle Gothic are little more +than representations of the canaliculated crystals of the beryl, +and such other minerals:</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIV</span>. Not knowingly. I do not suppose a single hint +was ever actually taken from mineral form; not even by the +Arabs in their stalactite pendants and vaults: all that I mean +to allege is, that beautiful ornament, wherever found, or however +invented, is always either an intentional or unintentional +copy of some constant natural form; and that in this particular +instance, the pleasure we have in these geometrical figures +of our own invention, is dependent for all its acuteness on the +natural tendency impressed on us by our Creator to love the +forms into which the earth He gave us to tread, and out of +which He formed our bodies, knit itself as it was separated +from the deep.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXV</span>. 3. Forms of Water (Waves).</p> + +<p>The reasons which prevent rocks from being used for ornament +repress still more forcibly the portraiture of the sea. +Yet the constant necessity of introducing some representation +of water in order to explain the scene of events, or as a sacred +symbol, has forced the sculptors of all ages to the invention of +some type or letter for it, if not an actual imitation. We +find every degree of conventionalism or of naturalism in these +types, the earlier being, for the most part, thoughtful symbols; +the latter, awkward attempts at portraiture.<a name="FnAnchor_65" href="#Footnote_65"><span class="sp">65</span></a> The most conventional +of all types is the Egyptian zigzag, preserved in the +astronomical sign of Aquarius; but every nation, with any +capacities of thought, has given, in some of its work, the same +great definition of open water, as “an undulatory thing with +fish in it.” I say <i>open</i> water, because inland nations have a +totally different conception of the element. Imagine for an instant +the different feelings of an husbandman whose hut is built +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page227"></a>227</span> +by the Rhine or the Po, and who sees, day by day, the same +giddy succession of silent power, the same opaque, thick, whirling, +irresistible labyrinth of rushing lines and twisted eddies, +coiling themselves into serpentine race by the reedy banks, in +omne volubilis ævum,—and the image of the sea in the mind +of the fisher upon the rocks of Ithaca, or by the Straits of +Sicily, who sees how, day by day, the morning winds come +coursing to the shore, every breath of them with a green wave +rearing before it; clear, crisp, ringing, merry-minded waves, +that fall over and over each other, laughing like children as +they near the beach, and at last clash themselves all into dust +of crystal over the dazzling sweeps of sand. Fancy the difference +of the image of water in those two minds, and then compare +the sculpture of the coiling eddies of the Tigris and its +reedy branches in those slabs of Nineveh, with the crested +curls of the Greek sea on the coins of Camerina or Tarentum. +But both agree in the undulatory lines, either of the currents +or the surface, and in the introduction of fish as explanatory of +the meaning of those lines (so also the Egyptians in their +frescoes, with most elaborate realisation of the fish). There is +a very curious instance on a Greek mirror in the British +Museum, representing Orion on the Sea; and multitudes of +examples with dolphins on the Greek vases: the type is preserved +without alteration in mediæval painting and sculpture. +The sea in that Greek mirror (at least 400 <span class="scs">B.C.</span>), in the mosaics +of Torcello and St. Mark’s, on the font of St. Frediano at +Lucca, on the gate of the fortress of St. Michael’s Mount in +Normandy, on the Bayeux tapestry, and on the capitals of the +Ducal Palace at Venice (under Arion on his Dolphin), is represented +in a manner absolutely identical. Giotto, in the +frescoes of Avignon, has, with his usual strong feeling for +naturalism, given the best example I remember, in painting, of +the unity of the conventional system with direct imitation, and +that both in sea and river; giving in pure blue color the +coiling whirlpool of the stream, and the curled crest of the +breaker. But in all early sculptural examples, both imitation +and decorative effect are subordinate to easily understood symbolical +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page228"></a>228</span> +language; the undulatory lines are often valuable as an +enrichment of surface, but are rarely of any studied gracefulness. +One of the best examples I know of their expressive +arrangement is around some figures in a spandril at Bourges, +representing figures sinking in deep sea (the deluge): the waved +lines yield beneath the bodies and wildly lave the edge of the +moulding, two birds, as if to mark the reverse of all order of +nature, lowest of all sunk in the depth of them. In later times +of debasement, water began to be represented with its waves, +foam, etc., as on the Vendramin tomb at Venice, above cited; +but even there, without any definite ornamental purpose, the +sculptor meant partly to explain a story, partly to display dexterity +of chiselling, but not to produce beautiful forms pleasant +to the eye. The imitation is vapid and joyless, and it has often +been matter of surprise to me that sculptors, so fond of exhibiting +their skill, should have suffered this imitation to fall so +short, and remain so cold,—should not have taken more pains +to curl the waves clearly, to edge them sharply, and to express, +by drill-holes or other artifices, the character of foam. +I think in one of the Antwerp churches something of this kind +is done in wood, but in general it is rare.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVI</span>. 4. Forms of Fire (Flames and Rays). If neither +the sea nor the rock can be imagined, still less the devouring +fire. It has been symbolised by radiation both in painting and +sculpture, for the most part in the latter very unsuccessfully. +It was suggested to me, not long ago,<a name="FnAnchor_66" href="#Footnote_66"><span class="sp">66</span></a> that zigzag decorations +of Norman architects were typical of light springing from the +half-set orb of the sun; the resemblance to the ordinary sun +type is indeed remarkable, but I believe accidental. I shall +give you, in my large plates, two curious instances of radiation +in brick ornament above arches, but I think these also without +any very luminous intention. The imitations of fire in the +torches of Cupids and genii, and burning in tops of urns, which +attest and represent the mephitic inspirations of the seventeenth +century in most London churches, and in monuments all over +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page229"></a>229</span> +civilised Europe, together with the gilded rays of Romanist +altars, may be left to such mercy as the reader is inclined to +show them.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVII</span>. 5. Forms of Air (Clouds). Hardly more manageable +than flames, and of no ornamental use, their majesty being +in scale and color, and inimitable in marble. They are lightly +traced in much of the cinque cento sculpture; very boldly and +grandly in the strange Last Judgment in the porch of St. +Maclou at Rouen, described in the “Seven Lamps.” But the +most elaborate imitations are altogether of recent date, arranged +in concretions like flattened sacks, forty or fifty feet above the +altars of continental churches, mixed with the gilded truncheons +intended for sunbeams above alluded to.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVIII</span>. 6. Shells. I place these lowest in the scale (after +inorganic forms) as being moulds or coats of organism; not +themselves organic. The sense of this, and of their being mere +emptiness and deserted houses, must always prevent them, however +beautiful in their lines, from being largely used in ornamentation. +It is better to take the line and leave the shell. +One form, indeed, that of the cockle, has been in all ages used +as the decoration of half domes, which were named conchas +from their shell form: and I believe the wrinkled lip of the +cockle, so used, to have been the origin, in some parts of +Europe at least, of the exuberant foliation of the round arch. +The scallop also is a pretty radiant form, and mingles well with +other symbols when it is needed. The crab is always as delightful +as a grotesque, for here we suppose the beast inside the +shell; and he sustains his part in a lively manner among the +other signs of the zodiac, with the scorpion; or scattered upon +sculptured shores, as beside the Bronze Boar of Florence. We +shall find him in a basket at Venice, at the base of one of the +Piazzetta shafts.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIX</span>. 7. Fish. These, as beautiful in their forms as they +are familiar to our sight, while their interest is increased by +their symbolic meaning, are of great value as material of ornament. +Love of the picturesque has generally induced a choice +of some supple form with scaly body and lashing tail, but the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page230"></a>230</span> +simplest fish form is largely employed in mediæval work. We +shall find the plain oval body and sharp head of the Thunny +constantly at Venice; and the fish used in the expression of +sea-water, or water generally, are always plain bodied creatures +in the best mediæval sculpture. The Greek type of the +dolphin, however, sometimes but slightly exaggerated from the +real outline of the Delphinus Delphis,<a name="FnAnchor_67" href="#Footnote_67"><span class="sp">67</span></a> is one of the most picturesque +of animal forms; and the action of its slow revolving +plunge is admirably caught upon the surface sea represented +in Greek vases.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXX</span>. 8. Reptiles and Insects. The forms of the serpent +and lizard exhibit almost every element of beauty and horror +in strange combination; the horror, which in an imitation is +felt only as a pleasurable excitement, has rendered them favorite +subjects in all periods of art; and the unity of both lizard +and serpent in the ideal dragon, the most picturesque and +powerful of all animal forms, and of peculiar symbolical interest +to the Christian mind, is perhaps the principal of all the +materials of mediæval picturesque sculpture. By the best +sculptors it is always used with this symbolic meaning, by the +cinque cento sculptors as an ornament merely. The best and +most natural representations of mere viper or snake are to be +found interlaced among their confused groups of meaningless +objects. The real power and horror of the snake-head has, +however, been rarely reached. I shall give one example from +Verona of the twelfth century.</p> + +<p>Other less powerful reptile forms are not unfrequent. +Small frogs, lizards, and snails almost always enliven the foregrounds +and leafage of good sculpture. The tortoise is less +usually employed in groups. Beetles are chiefly mystic and +colossal. Various insects, like everything else in the world, +occur in cinque cento work; grasshoppers most frequently. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page231"></a>231</span> +We shall see on the Ducal Palace at Venice an interesting use +of the bee.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXI</span>. 9. Branches and stems of Trees. I arrange these +under a separate head; because, while the forms of leafage +belong to all architecture, and ought to be employed in it +always, those of the branch and stem belong to a peculiar +imitative and luxuriant architecture, and are only applicable +at times. Pagan sculptors seem to have perceived little beauty +in the stems of trees; they were little else than timber to +them; and they preferred the rigid and monstrous triglyph, or +the fluted column, to a broken bough or gnarled trunk. But +with Christian knowledge came a peculiar regard for the forms +of vegetation, from the root upwards. The actual representation +of the entire trees required in many scripture subjects,—as +in the most frequent of Old Testament subjects, the Fall; +and again in the Drunkenness of Noah, the Garden Agony, +and many others, familiarised the sculptors of bas-relief to the +beauty of forms before unknown; while the symbolical name +given to Christ by the Prophets, “the Branch,” and the frequent +expressions referring to this image throughout every +scriptural description of conversion, gave an especial interest +to the Christian mind to this portion of vegetative structure. +For some time, nevertheless, the sculpture of trees was confined +to bas-relief; but it at last affected even the treatment of +the main shafts in Lombard Gothic buildings,—as in the +western façade of Genoa, where two of the shafts are represented +as gnarled trunks: and as bas-relief itself became more +boldly introduced, so did tree sculpture, until we find the +writhed and knotted stems of the vine and fig used for angle +shafts on the Doge’s Palace, and entire oaks and appletrees +forming, roots and all, the principal decorative sculptures of +the Scala tombs at Verona. It was then discovered to be more +easy to carve branches than leaves and, much helped by the +frequent employment in later Gothic of the “Tree of Jesse,” +for traceries and other purposes, the system reached full developement +in a perfect thicket of twigs, which form the richest +portion of the decoration of the porches of Beauvais. It +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page232"></a>232</span> +had now been carried to its richest extreme: men wearied of +it and abandoned it, and like all other natural and beautiful +things, it was ostracised by the mob of Renaissance architects. +But it is interesting to observe how the human mind, in its +acceptance of this feature of ornament, proceeded from the +ground, and followed, as it were, the natural growth of the +tree. It began with the rude and solid trunk, as at Genoa; +then the branches shot out, and became loaded leaves; autumn +came, the leaves were shed, and the eye was directed to the +extremities of the delicate branches;—the Renaissance frosts +came, and all perished.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXII</span>. 10. Foliage, Flowers, and Fruit. It is necessary +to consider these as separated from the stems; not only, as +above noted, because their separate use marks another school +of architecture, but because they are the only organic structures +which are capable of being so treated, and intended to be +so, without strong effort of imagination. To pull animals to +pieces, and use their paws for feet of furniture, or their heads +for terminations of rods and shafts, is <i>usually</i> the characteristic +of feelingless schools; the greatest men like their animals +whole. The head may, indeed, be so managed as to look +emergent from the stone, rather than fastened to it; and +wherever there is throughout the architecture any expression +of sternness or severity (severity in its literal sense, as in +Romans, <span class="scs">XI</span>. 22), such divisions of the living form may be +permitted; still, you cannot cut an animal to pieces as you can +gather a flower or a leaf. These were intended for our gathering, +and for our constant delight: wherever men exist in a +perfectly civilised and healthy state, they have vegetation +around them; wherever their state approaches that of innocence +or perfectness, it approaches that of Paradise,—it is a +dressing of garden. And, therefore, where nothing else can +be used for ornament, vegetation may; vegetation in any +form, however fragmentary, however abstracted. A single +leaf laid upon the angle of a stone, or the mere form or frame-work +of the leaf drawn upon it, or the mere shadow and ghost +of the leaf,—the hollow “foil” cut out of it,—possesses a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page233"></a>233</span> +charm which nothing else can replace; a charm not exciting, +nor demanding laborious thought or sympathy, but perfectly +simple, peaceful, and satisfying.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXIII</span>. The full recognition of leaf forms, as the general +source of subordinate decoration, is one of the chief characteristics +of Christian architecture; but the two <i>roots</i> of leaf +ornament are the Greek acanthus, and the Egyptian lotus.<a name="FnAnchor_68" href="#Footnote_68"><span class="sp">68</span></a> +The dry land and the river thus each contributed their part; +and all the florid capitals of the richest Northern Gothic on +the one hand, and the arrowy lines of the severe Lombardic +capitals on the other, are founded on these two gifts of the +dust of Greece and the waves of the Nile. The leaf which is, +I believe, called the Persepolitan water-leaf, is to be associated +with the lotus flower and stem, as the origin of our noblest +types of simple capital; and it is to be noted that the florid +leaves of the dry land are used most by the Northern architects, +while the water leaves are gathered for their ornaments +by the parched builders of the Desert.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXIV</span>. Fruit is, for the most part, more valuable in color +than form; nothing is more beautiful as a subject of sculpture +on a tree; but, gathered and put in baskets, it is quite possible +to have too much of it. We shall find it so used very dextrously +on the Ducal Palace of Venice, there with a meaning +which rendered it right necessary; but the Renaissance architects +address themselves to spectators who care for nothing +but feasting, and suppose that clusters of pears and pineapples +are visions of which their imagination can never weary, and +above which it will never care to rise. I am no advocate for +image worship, as I believe the reader will elsewhere sufficiently +find; but I am very sure that the Protestantism of +London would have found itself quite as secure in a cathedral +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page234"></a>234</span> +decorated with statues of good men, as in one hung round +with bunches of ribston pippins.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXV</span>. 11. Birds. The perfect and simple grace of bird +form, in general, has rendered it a favorite subject with early +sculptors, and with those schools which loved form more than +action; but the difficulty of expressing action, where the muscular +markings are concealed, has limited the use of it in later +art. Half the ornament, at least, in Byzantine architecture, +and a third of that of Lombardic, is composed of birds, either +pecking at fruit or flowers, or standing on either side of a +flower or vase, or alone, as generally the symbolical peacock. +But how much of our general sense of grace or power of +motion, of serenity, peacefulness, and spirituality, we owe to +these creatures, it is impossible to conceive; their wings supplying +us with almost the only means of representation of spiritual +motion which we possess, and with an ornamental form of +which the eye is never weary, however meaninglessly or endlessly +repeated; whether in utter isolation, or associated with +the bodies of the lizard, the horse, the lion, or the man. The +heads of the birds of prey are always beautiful, and used as the +richest ornaments in all ages.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXVI</span>. 12. Quadrupeds and Men. Of quadrupeds the +horse has received an elevation into the primal rank of sculptural +subject, owing to his association with men. The full +value of other quadruped forms has hardly been perceived, or +worked for, in late sculpture; and the want of science is more +felt in these subjects than in any other branches of early work. +The greatest richness of quadruped ornament is found in the +hunting sculpture of the Lombards; but rudely treated (the +most noble examples of treatment being the lions of Egypt, +the Ninevite bulls, and the mediæval griffins). Quadrupeds +of course form the noblest subjects of ornament next to the +human form; this latter, the chief subject of sculpture, being +sometimes the end of architecture rather than its decoration.</p> + +<p>We have thus completed the list of the materials of architectural +decoration, and the reader may be assured that no +effort has ever been successful to draw elements of beauty from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page235"></a>235</span> +any other sources than these. Such an effort was once resolutely +made. It was contrary to the religion of the Arab to +introduce any animal form into his ornament; but although +all the radiance of color, all the refinements of proportion, and +all the intricacies of geometrical design were open to him, he +could not produce any noble work without an <i>abstraction</i> of +the forms of leafage, to be used in his capitals, and made the +ground plan of his chased ornament. But I have above noted +that coloring is an entirely distinct and independent art; and +in the “Seven Lamps” we saw that this art had most power +when practised in arrangements of simple geometrical form: +the Arab, therefore, lay under no disadvantage in coloring, +and he had all the noble elements of constructive and proportional +beauty at his command: he might not imitate the sea-shell, +but he could build the dome. The imitation of radiance +by the variegated voussoir, the expression of the sweep of the +desert by the barred red lines upon the wall, the starred inshedding +of light through his vaulted roof, and all the endless +fantasy of abstract line,<a name="FnAnchor_69" href="#Footnote_69"><span class="sp">69</span></a> were still in the power of his ardent +and fantastic spirit. Much he achieved; and yet in the effort +of his overtaxed invention, restrained from its proper food, he +made his architecture a glittering vacillation of undisciplined +enchantment, and left the lustre of its edifices to wither like a +startling dream, whose beauty we may indeed feel, and whose +instruction we may receive, but must smile at its inconsistency, +and mourn over its evanescence.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_63" href="#FnAnchor_63"><span class="fn">63</span></a> The admiration of Canova I hold to be one of the most deadly symptoms +in the civilisation of the upper classes in the present century.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_64" href="#FnAnchor_64"><span class="fn">64</span></a> Thus above, I adduced for the architect’s imitation the appointed stories +and beds of the Matterhorn, not its irregular forms of crag or fissure.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_65" href="#FnAnchor_65"><span class="fn">65</span></a> <a href="#app_21">Appendix 21</a>, “Ancient Representations of Water.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_66" href="#FnAnchor_66"><span class="fn">66</span></a> By the friend to whom I owe <a href="#app_21">Appendix 21</a>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_67" href="#FnAnchor_67"><span class="fn">67</span></a> One is glad to hear from Cuvier, that though dolphins in general are +“les plus carnassiers, et proportion gardée avec leur taille, les plus cruels +de l’ordre;” yet that in the Delphinus Delphis, “tout l’organisation de son +cerveau annonce <i>qu’il ne doit pas être dépourvu de la docilité</i> qu’ils (les +anciens) lui attribuaient.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_68" href="#FnAnchor_68"><span class="fn">68</span></a> Vide Wilkinson, vol. v., woodcut No. 478, fig. 8. The tamarisk appears +afterwards to have given the idea of a subdivision of leaf more pure +and quaint than that of the acanthus. Of late our botanists have discovered, +in the “Victoria regia” (supposing its blossom reversed), another +strangely beautiful type of what we may perhaps hereafter find it convenient +to call <i>Lily</i> capitals.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_69" href="#FnAnchor_69"><span class="fn">69</span></a> <a href="#app_22">Appendix 22</a>, “Arabian Ornamentation.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page236"></a>236</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_21" id="chap_21"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> + +<h5>TREATMENT OF ORNAMENT.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">We</span> now know where we are to look for subjects of +decoration. The next question is, as the reader must remember, +how to treat or express these subjects.</p> + +<p>There are evidently two branches of treatment: the first +being the expression, or rendering to the eye and mind, of the +thing itself; and the second, the arrangement of the thing so +expressed: both of these being quite distinct from the placing +of the ornament in proper parts of the building. For instance, +suppose we take a vine-leaf for our subject. The first question +is, how to cut the vine-leaf? Shall we cut its ribs and +notches on the edge, or only its general outline? and so on. +Then, how to arrange the vine-leaves when we have them; +whether symmetrically, or at random; or unsymmetrically, +yet within certain limits? All these I call questions of treatment. +Then, whether the vine-leaves so arranged are to be +set on the capital of a pillar or on its shaft, I call a question of +place.</p> + +<p class="mb">§ <span class="scs">II</span>. So, then, the questions of mere treatment are twofold, +how to express, and how to arrange. And expression is to +the mind or the sight. Therefore, the inquiry becomes really +threefold:—</p> + +<p class="mn">1. How ornament is to be expressed with reference to the +mind.</p> + +<p class="mn">2. How ornament is to be arranged with reference to the +sight.</p> + +<p class="mn">3. How ornament is to be arranged with reference to both.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page237"></a>237</span></p> + +<p class="mt">§ <span class="scs">III</span>. (1.) How is ornament to be treated with <span class="correction" title="corrected from rererence">reference</span> to +the mind?</p> + +<p>If, to produce a good or beautiful ornament, it were only +necessary to produce a perfect piece of sculpture, and if a well +cut group of flowers or animals were indeed an ornament +wherever it might be placed, the work of the architect would +be comparatively easy. Sculpture and architecture would +become separate arts; and the architect would order so many +pieces of such subject and size as he needed, without troubling +himself with any questions but those of disposition and proportion. +But this is not so. <i>No perfect piece either of painting +or sculpture is an architectural ornament at all</i>, except in that +vague sense in which any beautiful thing is said to ornament +the place it is in. Thus we say that pictures ornament a room; +but we should not thank an architect who told us that his +design, to be complete, required a Titian to be put in one corner +of it, and a Velasquez in the other; and it is just as +unreasonable to call perfect sculpture, niched in, or encrusted +on a building, a portion of the ornament of that building, as it +would be to hang pictures by the way of ornament on the +outside of it. It is very possible that the sculptured work +may be harmoniously associated with the building, or the building +executed with reference to it; but in this latter case the +architecture is subordinate to the sculpture, as in the Medicean +chapel, and I believe also in the Parthenon. And so far from +the perfection of the work conducing to its ornamental purpose, +we may say, with entire security, that its perfection, in some +degree, unfits it for its purpose, and that no absolutely complete +sculpture can be decoratively right. We have a familiar +instance in the flower-work of St. Paul’s, which is probably, in +the abstract, as perfect flower sculpture as could be produced +at the time; and which is just as rational an ornament of the +building as so many valuable Van Huysums, framed and glazed +and hung up over each window.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. The especial condition of true ornament is, that it be +beautiful in its place, and nowhere else, and that it aid the effect +of every portion of the building over which it has influence; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page238"></a>238</span> +that it does not, by its richness, make other parts bald, or, by +its delicacy, make other parts coarse. Every one of its qualities +has reference to its place and use: <i>and it is fitted for its +service by what would be faults and deficiencies if it had no +especial duty</i>. Ornament, the servant, is often formal, where +sculpture, the master, would have been free; the servant is +often silent where the master would have been eloquent; or +hurried, where the master would have been serene.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. How far this subordination is in different situations to +be expressed, or how far it may be surrendered, and ornament, +the servant, be permitted to have independent will; and by +what means the subordination is best to be expressed when it +is required, are by far the most difficult questions I have ever +tried to work out respecting any branch of art; for, in many +of the examples to which I look as authoritative in their majesty +of effect, it is almost impossible to say whether the abstraction +or imperfection of the sculpture was owing to the choice, or the +incapacity of the workman; and, if to the latter, how far the +result of fortunate incapacity can be imitated by prudent self-restraint. +The reader, I think, will understand this at once by +considering the effect of the illuminations of an old missal. In +their bold rejection of all principles of perspective, light and +shade, and drawing, they are infinitely more ornamental to the +page, owing to the vivid opposition of their bright colors and +quaint lines, than if they had been drawn by Da Vinci himself: +and so the Arena chapel is far more brightly <i>decorated</i> by the +archaic frescoes of Giotti, than the Stanze of the Vatican are +by those of Raffaelle. But how far it is possible to recur to +such archaicism, or to make up for it by any voluntary abandonment +of power, I cannot as yet venture in any wise to +determine.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. So, on the other hand, in many instances of finished +work in which I find most to regret or to reprobate, I can hardly +distinguish what is erroneous in principle from what is vulgar +in execution. For instance, in most Romanesque churches of +Italy, the porches are guarded by gigantic animals, lions or +griffins, of admirable severity of design; yet, in many cases, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page239"></a>239</span> +of so rude workmanship, that it can hardly be determined how +much of this severity was intentional,—how much involuntary: +in the cathedral of Genoa two modern lions have, in imitation +of this ancient custom, been placed on the steps of its west +front; and the Italian sculptor, thinking himself a marvellous +great man because he knew what lions were really like, has +copied them, in the menagerie, with great success, and produced +two hairy and well-whiskered beasts, as like to real lions +as he could possibly cut them. One wishes them back in the +menagerie for his pains; but it is impossible to say how far +the offence of their presence is owing to the mere stupidity +and vulgarity of the sculpture, and how far we might have +been delighted with a realisation, carried to nearly the same +length by Ghiberti or Michael Angelo. (I say <i>nearly</i>, because +neither Ghiberti nor Michael Angelo would ever have +attempted, or permitted, entire realisation, even in independent +sculpture.)</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. In spite of these embarrassments, however, some few +certainties may be marked in the treatment of past architecture, +and secure conclusions deduced for future practice. +There is first, for instance, the assuredly intended and resolute +abstraction of the Ninevite and Egyptian sculptors. The men +who cut those granite lions in the Egyptian room of the British +Museum, and who carved the calm faces of those Ninevite +kings, knew much more, both of lions and kings, than they +chose to express. Then there is the Greek system, in which +the human sculpture is perfect, the architecture and animal +sculpture is subordinate to it, and the architectural ornament +severely subordinated to this again, so as to be composed of +little more than abstract lines: and, finally, there is the peculiarly +mediæval system, in which the inferior details are carried +to as great or greater imitative perfection as the higher sculpture; +and the subordination is chiefly effected by symmetries of +arrangement, and quaintnesses of treatment, respecting which +it is difficult to say how far they resulted from intention, and +how far from incapacity.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. Now of these systems, the Ninevite and Egyptian +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page240"></a>240</span> +are altogether opposed to modern habits of thought and action; +they are sculptures evidently executed under absolute authorities, +physical and mental, such as cannot at present exist. The +Greek system presupposes the possession of a Phidias; it is +ridiculous to talk of building in the Greek manner; you may +build a Greek shell or box, such as the Greek intended to contain +sculpture, but you have not the sculpture to put in it. +Find your Phidias first, and your new Phidias will very +soon settle all your architectural difficulties in very unexpected +ways indeed; but until you find him, do not think yourselves +architects while you go on copying those poor subordinations, +and secondary and tertiary orders of ornament, which the Greek +put on the shell of his sculpture. Some of them, beads, and +dentils, and such like, are as good as they can be for their +work, and you may use them for subordinate work still; but +they are nothing to be proud of, especially when you did not +invent them: and others of them are mistakes and impertinences +in the Greek himself, such as his so-called honeysuckle +ornaments and others, in which there is a starched and dull +suggestion of vegetable form, and yet no real resemblance nor +life, for the conditions of them result from his own conceit of +himself, and ignorance of the physical sciences, and want of +relish for common nature, and vain fancy that he could improve +everything he touched, and that he honored it by taking +it into his service: by freedom from which conceits the true +Christian architecture is distinguished—not by points to its +arches.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. There remains, therefore, only the mediæval system, +in which I think, generally, more completion is permitted +(though this often because more was possible) in the inferior +than in the higher portions of ornamental subject. Leaves, +and birds, and lizards are realised, or nearly so; men and +quadrupeds formalised. For observe, the smaller and inferior +subject remains subordinate, however richly finished; but the +human sculpture can only be subordinate by being imperfect. +The realisation is, however, in all cases, dangerous except +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page241"></a>241</span> +under most skilful management, and the abstraction, if true +and noble, is almost always more delightful.<a name="FnAnchor_70" href="#Footnote_70"><span class="sp">70</span></a></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">VIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_8"><img src="images/img241.jpg" width="413" height="650" alt="DECORATION BY DISKS." title="DECORATION BY DISKS." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">DECORATION BY DISKS.<br /> + <span class="f80"> PALAZZO DEI BADOARI PARTECIPAZZI.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. What, then, is noble abstraction? It is taking first +the essential elements of the thing to be represented, then the +rest in the order of importance (so that wherever we pause we +shall always have obtained more than we leave behind), and +using any expedient to impress what we want upon the mind, +without caring about the mere literal accuracy of such expedient. +Suppose, for instance, we have to represent a peacock: +now a peacock has a graceful neck, so has a swan; it has a +high crest, so has a cockatoo; it has a long tail, so has a bird +of Paradise. But the whole spirit and power of peacock is in +those eyes of the tail. It is true, the argus pheasant, and one +or two more birds, have something like them, but nothing for +a moment comparable to them in brilliancy: express the +gleaming of the blue eyes through the plumage, and you have +nearly all you want of peacock, but without this, nothing; and +yet those eyes are not in relief; a rigidly <i>true</i> sculpture of a +peacock’s form could have no eyes,—nothing but feathers. +Here, then, enters the stratagem of sculpture; you <i>must</i> cut +the eyes in relief, somehow or another; see how it is done in +the peacock on the opposite page; it is so done by nearly all +the Byzantine sculptors: this particular peacock is meant to be +seen at some distance (how far off I know not, for it is an +interpolation in the building where it occurs, of which more +hereafter), but at all events at a distance of thirty or forty +feet; I have put it close to you that you may see plainly the +rude rings and rods which stand for the eyes and quills, but at +the just distance their effect is perfect.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. And the simplicity of the means here employed may +help us, both to some clear understanding of the spirit of +Ninevite and Egyptian work, and to some perception of the +kind of enfantillage or archaicism to which it may be possible, +even in days of advanced science, legitimately to return. The +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page242"></a>242</span> +architect has no right, as we said before, to require of us a picture +of Titian’s in order to complete his design; neither has +he the right to calculate on the co-operation of perfect sculptors, +in subordinate capacities. Far from this; his business is +to dispense with such aid altogether, and to devise such a +system of ornament as shall be capable of execution by uninventive +and even unintelligent workmen; for supposing that +he required noble sculpture for his ornament, how far would +this at once limit the number and the scale of possible buildings? +Architecture is the work of nations; but we cannot +have nations of great sculptors. Every house in every street +of every city ought to be good architecture, but we cannot +have Flaxman or Thorwaldsen at work upon it: nor, even if +we chose only to devote ourselves to our public buildings, +could the mass and majesty of them be great, if we required +all to be executed by great men; greatness is not to be had in +the required quantity. Giotto may design a campanile, but he +cannot carve it; he can only carve one or two of the bas-reliefs +at the base of it. And with every increase of your fastidiousness +in the execution of your ornament, you diminish the possible +number and grandeur of your buildings. Do not think +you can educate your workmen, or that the demand for perfection +will increase the supply: educated imbecility and finessed +foolishness are the worst of all imbecilities and foolishnesses; +and there is no free-trade measure, which will ever lower the +price of brains,—there is no California of common sense. +Exactly in the degree in which you require your decoration to +be wrought by thoughtful men, you diminish the extent and +number of architectural works. Your business as an architect, +is to calculate only on the co-operation of inferior men, to think +for them, and to indicate for them such expressions of your +thoughts as the weakest capacity can comprehend and the +feeblest hand can execute. This is the definition of the purest +architectural abstractions. They are the deep and laborious +thoughts of the greatest men, put into such easy letters that +they can be written by the simplest. <i>They are expressions of +the mind of manhood by the hands of childhood.</i></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page243"></a>243</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. And now suppose one of those old Ninevite or +Egyptian builders, with a couple of thousand men—mud-bred, +onion-eating creatures—under him, to be set to work, like so +many ants, on his temple sculptures. What is he to do with +them? He can put them through a granitic exercise of current +hand; he can teach them all how to curl hair thoroughly +into croche-cœurs, as you teach a bench of school-boys how +to shape pothooks; he can teach them all how to draw long +eyes and straight noses, and how to copy accurately certain +well-defined lines. Then he fits his own great design to their +capacities; he takes out of king, or lion, or god, as much as +was expressible by croche-cœurs and granitic pothooks; he +throws this into noble forms of his own imagining, and having +mapped out their lines so that there can be no possibility of +error, sets his two thousand men to work upon them, with a +will, and so many onions a day.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. I said those times cannot now return. We have, +with Christianity, recognised the individual value of every +soul; and there is no intelligence so feeble but that its single +ray may in some sort contribute to the general light. This is +the glory of Gothic architecture, that every jot and tittle, +every point and niche of it, affords room, fuel, and focus for +individual fire. But you cease to acknowledge this, and you +refuse to accept the help of the lesser mind, if you require the +work to be all executed in a great manner. Your business is +to think out all of it nobly, to dictate the expression of it as +far as your dictation can assist the less elevated intelligence: +then to leave this, aided and taught as far as may be, to its +own simple act and effort; and to rejoice in its simplicity if +not in its power, and in its vitality if not in its science.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. We have, then, three orders of ornament, classed +according to the degrees of correspondence of the executive +and conceptive minds. We have the servile ornament, in +which the executive is absolutely subjected to the inventive,—the +ornament of the great Eastern nations, more especially +Hamite, and all pre-Christian, yet thoroughly noble in its submissiveness. +Then we have the mediæval system, in which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page244"></a>244</span> +the mind of the inferior workman is recognised, and has full +room for action, but is guided and ennobled by the ruling +mind. This is the truly Christian and only perfect system. +Finally, we have ornaments expressing the endeavor to equalise +the executive and inventive,—endeavor which is Renaissance +and revolutionary, and destructive of all noble architecture.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV</span>. Thus far, then, of the incompleteness or simplicity +of execution necessary in architectural ornament, as referred +to the mind. Next we have to consider that which is required +when it is referred to the sight, and the various modifications +of treatment which are rendered necessary by the variation of +its distance from the eye. I say necessary: not merely expedient +or economical. It is foolish to carve what is to be seen +forty feet off with the delicacy which the eye demands within +two yards; not merely because such delicacy is lost in the +distance, but because it is a great deal worse than lost:—the +delicate work has actually worse effect in the distance than +rough work. This is a fact well known to painters, and, for +the most part, acknowledged by the critics of painters, namely, +that there is a certain distance for which a picture is painted; +and that the finish, which is delightful if that distance be +small, is actually injurious if the distance be great: and, moreover, +that there is a particular method of handling which none +but consummate artists reach, which has its effects at the intended +distance, and is altogether hieroglyphical and unintelligible +at any other. This, I say, is acknowledged in painting, +but it is not practically acknowledged in architecture; nor until +my attention was especially directed to it, had I myself any +idea of the care with which this great question was studied by +the mediæval architects. On my first careful examination of +the capitals of the upper arcade of the Ducal Palace at Venice, +I was induced, by their singular inferiority of workmanship, +to suppose them posterior to those of the lower arcade. It +was not till I discovered that some of those which I thought +the worst above, were the best when seen from below, that I +obtained the key to this marvellous system of adaptation; a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page245"></a>245</span> +system which I afterwards found carried out in every building +of the great times which I had opportunity of examining.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. There are two distinct modes in which this adaptation +is effected. In the first, the same designs which are delicately +worked when near the eye, are rudely cut, and have far +fewer details when they are removed from it. In this method +it is not always easy to distinguish economy from skill, or +slovenliness from science. But, in the second method, a different +design is adopted, composed of fewer parts and of simpler +lines, and this is cut with exquisite precision. This is of +course the higher method, and the more satisfactory proof of +purpose; but an equal degree of imperfection is found in both +kinds when they are seen close; in the first, a bald execution +of a perfect design; the second, a baldness of design with +perfect execution. And in these very imperfections lies the +admirableness of the ornament.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII</span>. It may be asked whether, in advocating this adaptation +to the distance of the eye, I obey my adopted rule of +observance of natural law. Are not all natural things, it may +be asked, as lovely near as far away? Nay, not so. Look at +the clouds, and watch the delicate sculpture of their alabaster +sides, and the rounded lustre of their magnificent rolling. +They are meant to be beheld far away; they were shaped for +their place, high above your head; approach them, and they +fuse into vague mists, or whirl away in fierce fragments of +thunderous vapor. Look at the crest of the Alp, from the +far-away plains over which its light is cast, whence human +souls have communion with it by their myriads. The child +looks up to it in the dawn, and the husbandman in the burden +and heat of the day, and the old man in the going down of the +sun, and it is to them all as the celestial city on the world’s +horizon; dyed with the depth of heaven, and clothed with the +calm of eternity. There was it set, for holy dominion, by +Him who marked for the sun his journey, and bade the moon +know her going down. It was built for its place in the far-off +sky; approach it, and as the sound of the voice of man dies +away about its foundations, and the tide of human life, shallowed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page246"></a>246</span> +upon the vast aërial shore, is at last met by the Eternal +“Here shall thy waves be stayed,” the glory of its aspect fades +into blanched fearfulness; its purple walls are rent into grisly +rocks, its silver fretwork saddened into wasting snow, the +storm-brands of ages are on its breast, the ashes of its own +ruin lie solemnly on its white raiment.</p> + +<p>Nor in such instances as these alone, though strangely +enough, the discrepancy between apparent and actual beauty is +greater in proportion to the unapproachableness of the object, +is the law observed. For every distance from the eye there is +a peculiar kind of beauty, or a different system of lines of +form; the sight of that beauty is reserved for that distance, +and for that alone. If you approach nearer, that kind of +beauty is lost, and another succeeds, to be disorganised and +reduced to strange and incomprehensible means and appliances +in its turn. If you desire to perceive the great harmonies of +the form of a rocky mountain, you must not ascend upon its +sides. All is there disorder and accident, or seems so; sudden +starts of its shattered beds hither and thither; ugly struggles +of unexpected strength from under the ground; fallen fragments, +toppling one over another into more helpless fall. Retire +from it, and, as your eye commands it more and more, as +you see the ruined mountain world with a wider glance, behold! +dim sympathies begin to busy themselves in the disjointed +mass; line binds itself into stealthy fellowship with +line; group by group, the helpless fragments gather themselves +into ordered companies; new captains of hosts and masses of +battalions become visible, one by one, and far away answers +of foot to foot, and of bone to bone, until the powerless chaos +is seen risen up with girded loins, and not one piece of all the +unregarded heap could now be spared from the mystic whole.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII</span>. Now it is indeed true that where nature loses one +kind of beauty, as you approach it, she substitutes another; +this is worthy of her infinite power: and, as we shall see, art +can sometimes follow her even in doing this; but all I insist +upon at present is, that the several effects of nature are each +worked with means referred to a particular distance, and producing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page247"></a>247</span> +their effect at that distance only. Take a singular and +marked instance: When the sun rises behind a ridge of pines, +and those pines are seen from a distance of a mile or two, +against his light, the whole form of the tree, trunk, branches, +and all, becomes one frostwork of intensely brilliant silver, +which is relieved against the clear sky like a burning fringe, +for some distance on either side of the sun.<a name="FnAnchor_71" href="#Footnote_71"><span class="sp">71</span></a> Now suppose +that a person who had never seen pines were, for the first time +in his life, to see them under this strange aspect, and, reasoning +as to the means by which such effect could be produced, +laboriously to approach the eastern ridge, how would he be +amazed to find that the fiery spectres had been produced by +trees with swarthy and grey trunks, and dark green leaves! +We, in our simplicity, if we had been required to produce such +an appearance, should have built up trees of chased silver, with +trunks of glass, and then been grievously amazed to find that, +at two miles off, neither silver nor glass were any more visible; +but nature knew better, and prepared for her fairy work with +the strong branches and dark leaves, in her own mysterious +way.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs correction" title="corrected from XIV">XIX</span>. Now this is exactly what you have to do with your +good ornament. It may be that it is capable of being approached, +as well as likely to be seen far away, and then it +ought to have microscopic qualities, as the pine leaves have, +which will bear approach. But your calculation of its purpose +is for a glory to be produced at a given distance; it may +be here, or may be there, but it is a <i>given</i> distance; and the +excellence of the ornament depends upon its fitting that distance, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page248"></a>248</span> +and being seen better there than anywhere else, and +having a particular function and form which it can only discharge +and assume there. You are never to say that ornament +has great merit because “you cannot see the beauty of it +here;” but, it has great merit because “you <i>can</i> see its beauty +<i>here only</i>.” And to give it this merit is just about as difficult +a task as I could well set you. I have above noted the two +ways in which it is done: the one, being merely rough cutting, +may be passed over; the other, which is scientific alteration of +design, falls, itself, into two great branches, Simplification and +Emphasis.</p> + +<p>A word or two is necessary on each of these heads.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XX</span>. When an ornamental work is intended to be seen +near, if its composition be indeed fine, the subdued and delicate +portions of the design lead to, and unite, the energetic +parts, and those energetic parts form with the rest a whole, in +which their own immediate relations to each other are not perceived. +Remove this design to a distance, and the connecting +delicacies vanish, the energies alone remain, now either disconnected +altogether, or assuming with each other new relations, +which, not having been intended by the designer, will probably +be painful. There is a like, and a more palpable, effect, in the +retirement of a band of music in which the instruments are of +very unequal powers; the fluting and fifeing expire, the drumming +remains, and that in a painful arrangement, as demanding +something which is unheard. In like manner, as the +designer at arm’s length removes or elevates his work, fine +gradations, and roundings, and incidents, vanish, and a totally +unexpected arrangement is established between the remainder +of the markings, certainly confused, and in all probability +painful.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXI</span>. The art of architectural design is therefore, first, the +preparation for this beforehand, the rejection of all the delicate +passages as worse than useless, and the fixing the thought upon +the arrangement of the features which will remain visible far +away. Nor does this always imply a diminution of resource; +for, while it may be assumed as a law that fine modulation of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page249"></a>249</span> +surface in light becomes quickly invisible as the object retires, +there are a softness and mystery given to the harder markings, +which enable them to be safely used as media of expression. +There is an exquisite example of this use, in the head of the +Adam of the Ducal Palace. It is only at the height of 17 or +18 feet above the eye; nevertheless, the sculptor felt it was no +use to trouble himself about drawing the corners of the mouth, +or the lines of the lips, delicately, at that distance; his object +has been to mark them clearly, and to prevent accidental +shadows from concealing them, or altering their expression. +The lips are cut thin and sharp, so that their line cannot be +mistaken, and a good deep drill-hole struck into the angle of +the mouth; the eye is anxious and questioning, and one is surprised, +from below, to perceive a kind of darkness in the iris +of it, neither like color, nor like a circular furrow. The expedient +can only be discovered by ascending to the level of the +head; it is one which would have been quite inadmissible +except in distant work, six drill-holes cut into the iris, round a +central one for the pupil.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXII</span>. By just calculation, like this, of the means at our +disposal, by beautiful arrangement of the prominent features, +and by choice of different subjects for different places, choosing +the broadest forms for the farthest distance, it is possible +to give the impression, not only of perfection, but of an +exquisite delicacy, to the most distant ornament. And this is +the true sign of the right having been done, and the utmost +possible power attained:—The spectator should be satisfied to +stay in his place, feeling the decoration, wherever it may be, +equally rich, full, and lovely: not desiring to climb the steeples +in order to examine it, but sure that he has it all, where he is. +Perhaps the capitals of the cathedral of Genoa are the best +instances of absolute perfection in this kind: seen from below, +they appear as rich as the frosted silver of the Strada degli +Orefici; and the nearer you approach them, the less delicate +they seem.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIII</span>. This is, however, not the only mode, though the +best, in which ornament is adapted for distance. The other +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page250"></a>250</span> +is emphasis,—the unnatural insisting upon explanatory lines, +where the subject would otherwise become unintelligible. It +is to be remembered that, by a deep and narrow incision, an +architect has the power, at least in sunshine, of drawing a +black line on stone, just as vigorously as it can be drawn with +chalk on grey paper; and that he may thus, wherever and in +the degree that he chooses, substitute <i>chalk sketching</i> for +sculpture. They are curiously mingled by the Romans. The +bas-reliefs of the Arc d’Orange are small, and would be confused, +though in bold relief, if they depended for intelligibility +on the relief only; but each figure is outlined by a strong +<i>incision</i> at its edge into the background, and all the ornaments +on the armor are simply drawn with incised lines, and not cut +out at all. A similar use of lines is made by the Gothic nations +in all their early sculpture, and with delicious effect. Now, to +draw a mere pattern—as, for instance, the bearings of a shield—with +these simple incisions, would, I suppose, occupy an able +sculptor twenty minutes or half an hour; and the pattern is +then clearly seen, under all circumstances of light and shade; +there can be no mistake about it, and no missing it. To carve +out the bearings in due and finished relief would occupy a long +summer’s day, and the results would be feeble and indecipherable +in the best lights, and in some lights totally and hopelessly +invisible, ignored, non-existant. Now the Renaissance architects, +and our modern ones, despise the simple expedient of +the rough Roman or barbarian. They do not care to be understood. +They care only to speak finely, and be thought great +orators, if one could only hear them. So I leave you to choose +between the old men, who took minutes to tell things plainly, +and the modern men, who take days to tell them unintelligibly.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIV</span>. All expedients of this kind, both of simplification +and energy, for the expression of details at a distance where +their actual forms would have been invisible, but more especially +this linear method, I shall call Proutism; for the greatest +master of the art in modern times has been Samuel Prout. +He actually takes up buildings of the later times in which the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page251"></a>251</span> +ornament has been too refined for its place, and translates it +into the energised linear ornament of earlier art: and to this +power of taking the life and essence of decoration, and putting +it into a perfectly intelligible form, when its own fulness would +have been confused, is owing the especial power of his drawings. +Nothing can be more closely analogous than the method +with which an old Lombard uses his chisel, and that with +which Prout uses the reed-pen; and we shall see presently +farther correspondence in their feeling about the enrichment +of luminous surfaces.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXV</span>. Now, all that has been hitherto said refers to ornament +whose distance is fixed, or nearly so; as when it is at +any considerable height from the ground, supposing the spectator +to desire to see it, and to get as near it as he can. But +the distance of ornament is never fixed to the <i>general</i> spectator. +The tower of a cathedral is bound to look well, ten miles +off, or five miles, or half a mile, or within fifty yards. The +ornaments of its top have fixed distances, compared with those +of its base; but quite unfixed distances in their relation to the +great world: and the ornaments of the base have no fixed distance +at all. They are bound to look well from the other side +of the cathedral close, and to look equally well, or better, as we +enter the cathedral door. How are we to manage this?</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVI</span>. As nature manages it. I said above, § <span class="scs">XVII</span>., that +for every distance from the eye there was a different system +of form in all natural objects: this is to be so then in architecture. +The lesser ornament is to be grafted on the greater, +and third or fourth orders of ornaments upon this again, as +need may be, until we reach the limits of possible sight; each +order of ornament being adapted for a different distance: first, +for example, the great masses,—the buttresses and stories and +black windows and broad cornices of the tower, which give it +make, and organism, as it rises over the horizon, half a score of +miles away: then the traceries and shafts and pinnacles, which +give it richness as we approach: then the niches and statues +and knobs and flowers, which we can only see when we stand +beneath it. At this third order of ornament, we may pause, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page252"></a>252</span> +in the upper portions; but on the roofs of the niches, and the +robes of the statues, and the rolls of the mouldings, comes a +fourth order of ornament, as delicate as the eye can follow, +when any of these features may be approached.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVII</span>. All good ornamentation is thus arborescent, as it +were, one class of it branching out of another and sustained by +it; and its nobility consists in this, that whatever order or class +of it we may be contemplating, we shall find it subordinated to +a greater, simpler, and more powerful; and if we then contemplate +the greater order, we shall find it again subordinated to a +greater still; until the greatest can only be quite grasped by +retiring to the limits of distance commanding it.</p> + +<p>And if this subordination be not complete, the ornament is +bad: if the figurings and chasings and borderings of a dress +be not subordinated to the folds of it,—if the folds are not subordinate +to the action and mass of the figure,—if this action +and mass not to the divisions of the recesses and shafts among +which it stands,—if these not to the shadows of the great arches +and buttresses of the whole building, in each case there is error; +much more if all be contending with each other and striving +for attention at the same time.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVIII</span>. It is nevertheless evident, that, however perfect +this distribution, there cannot be orders adapted to <i>every</i> distance +of the spectator. Between the ranks of ornament there +must always be a bold separation; and there must be many +intermediate distances, where we are too far off to see the +lesser rank clearly, and yet too near to grasp the next higher +rank wholly: and at all these distances the spectator will feel +himself ill-placed, and will desire to go nearer or farther away. +This must be the case in all noble work, natural or artificial. It +is exactly the same with respect to Rouen cathedral or the Mont +Blanc. We like to see them from the other side of the Seine, +or of the lake of Geneva; from the Marché aux Fleurs, or the +Valley of Chamouni; from the parapets of the apse, or the +crags of the Montagne de la Côte: but there are intermediate +distances which dissatisfy us in either case, and from which one +is in haste either to advance or to retire.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page253"></a>253</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIX</span>. Directly opposed to this ordered, disciplined, well +officered and variously ranked ornament, this type of divine, +and therefore of all good human government, is the democratic +ornament, in which all is equally influential, and has equal +office and authority; that is to say, none of it any office nor +authority, but a life of continual struggle for independence and +notoriety, or of gambling for chance regards. The English +perpendicular work is by far the worst of this kind that I know; +its main idea, or decimal fraction of an idea, being to cover +its walls with dull, successive, eternity of reticulation, to fill +with equal foils the equal interstices between the equal bars, +and charge the interminable blanks with statues and rosettes, +invisible at a distance, and uninteresting near.</p> + +<p>The early Lombardic, Veronese, and Norman work is the +exact reverse of this; being divided first into large masses, and +these masses covered with minute chasing and surface work, +which fill them with interest, and yet do not disturb nor divide +their greatness. The lights are kept broad and bright, and yet +are found on near approach to be charged with intricate design. +This, again, is a part of the great system of treatment which I +shall hereafter call “Proutism;” much of what is thought mannerism +and imperfection in Prout’s work, being the result of +his determined resolution that minor details shall never break +up his large masses of light.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXX</span>. Such are the main principles to be observed in the +adaptation of ornament to the sight. We have lastly to inquire +by what method, and in what quantities, the ornament, thus +adapted to mental contemplation, and prepared for its physical +position, may most wisely be arranged. I think the method +ought first to be considered, and the quantity last; for the advisable +quantity depends upon the method.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXI</span>. It was said above, that the proper treatment or +arrangement of ornament was that which expressed the laws +and ways of Deity. Now, the subordination of visible orders +to each other, just noted, is one expression of these. But there +may also—must also—be a subordination and obedience of the +parts of each order to some visible law, out of itself, but having +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page254"></a>254</span> +reference to itself only (not to any upper order): some law +which shall not oppress, but guide, limit, and sustain.</p> + +<p>In the tenth chapter of the second volume of “Modern +Painters,” the reader will find that I traced one part of the +beauty of God’s creation to the expression of a <i>self</i>-restrained +liberty: that is to say, the image of that perfection of <i>divine</i> +action, which, though free to work in arbitrary methods, works +always in consistent methods, called by us Laws.</p> + +<p>Now, correspondingly, we find that when these natural +objects are to become subjects of the art of man, their perfect +treatment is an image of the perfection of <i>human</i> action: a +voluntary submission to divine law.</p> + +<p>It was suggested to me but lately by the friend to whose +originality of thought I have before expressed my obligations, +Mr. Newton, that the Greek pediment, with its enclosed sculptures, +represented to the Greek mind the law of Fate, confining +human action within limits not to be overpassed. I do not +believe the Greeks ever distinctly thought of this; but the +instinct of all the human race, since the world began, agrees in +some expression of such limitation as one of the first necessities +of good ornament.<a name="FnAnchor_72" href="#Footnote_72"><span class="sp">72</span></a> And this expression is heightened, +rather than diminished, when some portion of the design +slightly breaks the law to which the rest is subjected; it is +like expressing the use of miracles in the divine government; +or, perhaps, in slighter degrees, the relaxing of a law, generally +imperative, in compliance with some more imperative need—the +hungering of David. How eagerly this special infringement +of a general law was sometimes sought by the mediæval +workmen, I shall be frequently able to point out to the reader; +but I remember just now a most curious instance, in an archivolt +of a house in the Corte del Remer close to the Rialto at +Venice. It is composed of a wreath of flower-work—a constant +Byzantine design—with an animal in each coil; the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page255"></a>255</span> +whole enclosed between two fillets. Each animal, leaping or +eating, scratching or biting, is kept nevertheless strictly within +its coil, and between the fillets. Not the shake of an ear, not +the tip of a tail, overpasses this appointed line, through a series +of some five-and-twenty or thirty animals; until, on a sudden, +and by mutual consent, two little beasts (not looking, for the +rest, more rampant than the others), one on each side, lay their +small paws across the enclosing fillet at exactly the same point +of its course, and thus break the continuity of its line. Two +ears of corn, or leaves, do the same thing in the mouldings +round the northern door of the Baptistery at Florence.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXII</span>. Observe, however, and this is of the utmost possible +importance, that the value of this type does not consist in the +mere shutting of the ornament into a certain space, but in the +acknowledgment <i>by</i> the ornament of the fitness of the limitation—of +its own perfect willingness to submit to it; nay, of a +predisposition in itself to fall into the ordained form, without +any direct expression of the command to do so; an anticipation +of the authority, and an instant and willing submission to +it, in every fibre and spray: not merely <i>willing</i>, but <i>happy</i> +submission, as being pleased rather than vexed to have so +beautiful a law suggested to it, and one which to follow is so +justly in accordance with its own nature. You must not cut +out a branch of hawthorn as it grows, and rule a triangle round +it, and suppose that it is then submitted to law. Not a bit of +it. It is only put in a cage, and will look as if it must get out, +for its life, or wither in the confinement. But the spirit of +triangle must be put into the hawthorn. It must suck in +isoscelesism with its sap. Thorn and blossom, leaf and spray, +must grow with an awful sense of triangular necessity upon +them, for the guidance of which they are to be thankful, and +to grow all the stronger and more gloriously. And though +there may be a transgression here and there, and an adaptation +to some other need, or a reaching forth to some other end +greater even than the triangle, yet this liberty is to be always +accepted under a solemn sense of special permission; and +when the full form is reached and the entire submission +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page256"></a>256</span> +expressed, and every blossom has a thrilling sense of its responsibility +down into its tiniest stamen, you may take your +terminal line away if you will. No need for it any more. +The commandment is written on the heart of the thing.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXIII</span>. Then, besides this obedience to external law, there +is the obedience to internal headship, which constitutes the +unity of ornament, of which I think enough has been said for +my present purpose in the chapter on Unity in the second +vol. of “Modern Painters.” But I hardly know whether to +arrange as an expression of a divine law, or a representation +of a physical fact, the alternation of shade with light which, +in equal succession, forms one of the chief elements of <i>continuous</i> +ornament, and in some peculiar ones, such as dentils and +billet mouldings, is the source of their only charm. The opposition +of good and evil, the antagonism of the entire human +system (so ably worked out by Lord Lindsay), the alternation +of labor with rest, the mingling of life with death, or the +actual physical fact of the division of light from darkness, and +of the falling and rising of night and day, are all typified or +represented by these chains of shade and light of which the +eye never wearies, though their true meaning may never occur +to the thoughts.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXIV</span>. The next question respecting the arrangement of +ornament is one closely connected also with its quantity. The +system of creation is one in which “God’s creatures leap not, +but express a feast, where all the guests sit close, and nothing +wants.” It is also a feast, where there is nothing redundant. +So, then, in distributing our ornament, there must never be +any sense of gap or blank, neither any sense of there being a +single member, or fragment of a member, which could be +spared. Whatever has nothing to do, whatever could go without +being missed, is not ornament; it is deformity and encumbrance. +Away with it. And, on the other hand, care +must be taken either to diffuse the ornament which we permit, +in due relation over the whole building, or so to concentrate it, +as never to leave a sense of its having got into knots, and +curdled upon some points, and left the rest of the building +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page257"></a>257</span> +whey. It is very difficult to give the rules, or analyse the +feelings, which should direct us in this matter: for some +shafts may be carved and others left unfinished, and that with +advantage; some windows may be jewelled like Aladdin’s, +and one left plain, and still with advantage; the door or doors, +or a single turret, or the whole western façade of a church, +or the apse or transept, may be made special subjects of decoration, +and the rest left plain, and still sometimes with advantage. +But in all such cases there is either sign of that feeling +which I advocated in the First Chapter of the “Seven Lamps,” +the desire of rather doing some portion of the building as we +would have it, and leaving the rest plain, than doing the +whole imperfectly; or else there is choice made of some important +feature, to which, as more honorable than the rest, +the decoration is confined. The evil is when, without system, +and without preference of the nobler members, the ornament +alternates between sickly luxuriance and sudden blankness. +In many of our Scotch and English abbeys, especially Melrose, +this is painfully felt; but the worst instance I have ever seen +is the window in the side of the arch under the Wellington +statue, next St. George’s Hospital. In the first place, a window +has no business there at all; in the second, the bars of the +window are not the proper place for decoration, especially +<i>wavy</i> decoration, which one instantly fancies of cast iron; in +the third, the richness of the ornament is a mere patch and +eruption upon the wall, and one hardly knows whether to be +most irritated at the affectation of severity in the rest, or at the +vain luxuriance of the dissolute parallelogram.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXV</span>. Finally, as regards quantity of ornament I have +already said, again and again, you cannot have too much if it +be good; that is, if it be thoroughly united and harmonised by +the laws hitherto insisted upon. But you may easily have too +much if you have more than you have sense to manage. For +with every added order of ornament increases the difficulty of +discipline. It is exactly the same as in war: you cannot, as an +abstract law, have too many soldiers, but you may easily have +more than the country is able to sustain, or than your generalship +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page258"></a>258</span> +is competent to command. And every regiment which +you cannot manage will, on the day of battle, be in your way, +and encumber the movements it is not in disposition to sustain.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXVI</span>. As an architect, therefore, you are modestly to +measure your capacity of governing ornament. Remember, +its essence,—its being ornament at all, consists in its being +governed. Lose your authority over it, let it command you, +or lead you, or dictate to you in any wise, and it is an offence, +an incumbrance, and a dishonor. And it is always ready to do +this; wild to get the bit in its teeth, and rush forth on its own +devices. Measure, therefore, your strength; and as long as +there is no chance of mutiny, add soldier to soldier, battalion +to battalion; but be assured that all are heartily in the cause, +and that there is not one of whose position you are ignorant, +or whose service you could spare.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_70" href="#FnAnchor_70"><span class="fn">70</span></a> Vide “Seven Lamps,” Chap. IV. § 34.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_71" href="#FnAnchor_71"><span class="fn">71</span></a> Shakspeare and Wordsworth (I think they only) have noticed this, +Shakspeare, in Richard II.:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"> +<p class="ind05">“But when, from under this terrestrial ball,</p> +<p>He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines.”</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>And Wordsworth, in one of his minor poems, on leaving Italy:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"> +<p class="ind05">“My thoughts become bright like yon edging of pines</p> +<p>On the steep’s lofty verge—how it blackened the air!</p> +<p>But, touched from behind by the sun, it now shines</p> +<p>With threads that seem part of his own silver hair.”</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Footnote_72" href="#FnAnchor_72"><span class="fn">72</span></a> Some valuable remarks on this subject will be found in a notice of the +“Seven Lamps” in the British Quarterly for August, 1849. I think, however, +the writer attaches too great importance to one out of many ornamental +necessities.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page259"></a>259</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_22"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h3> + +<h5>THE ANGLE.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">We</span> have now examined the treatment and specific +kinds of ornament at our command. We have lastly to note +the fittest places for their disposal. Not but that all kinds of +ornament are used in all places; but there are some parts of +the building, which, without ornament, are more painful than +others, and some which wear ornament more gracefully than +others; so that, although an able architect will always be finding +out some new and unexpected modes of decoration, and +fitting his ornament into wonderful places where it is least expected, +there are, nevertheless, one or two general laws which +may be noted respecting every one of the parts of a building, +laws not (except a few) imperative like those of construction, +but yet generally expedient, and good to be understood, if it +were only that we might enjoy the brilliant methods in which +they are sometimes broken. I shall note, however, only a few +of the simplest; to trace them into their ramifications, and +class in due order the known or possible methods of decoration +for each part of a building, would alone require a large volume, +and be, I think, a somewhat useless work; for there is often a +high pleasure in the very unexpectedness of the ornament, +which would be destroyed by too elaborate an arrangement of +its kinds.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. I think that the reader must, by this time, so thoroughly +understand the connection of the parts of a building, +that I may class together, in treating of decoration, several +parts which I kept separate in speaking of construction. Thus +I shall put under one head (<span class="scs">A</span>) the base of the wall and of the +shaft; then (<span class="scs">B</span>) the wall veil and shaft itself; then (<span class="scs">C</span>) the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page260"></a>260</span> +cornice and capital; then (<span class="scs">D</span>) the jamb and archivolt, including +the arches both over shafts and apertures, and the jambs of +apertures, which are closely connected with their archivolts; +finally (<span class="scs">E</span>) the roof, including the real roof, and the minor roofs +or gables of pinnacles and arches. I think, under these divisions, +all may be arranged which is necessary to be generally +stated; for tracery decorations or aperture fillings are but +smaller forms of application of the arch, and the cusps are +merely smaller spandrils, while buttresses have, as far as I +know, no specific ornament. The best are those which have +least; and the little they have resolves itself into pinnacles, +which are common to other portions of the building, or into +small shafts, arches, and niches, of still more general applicability. +We shall therefore have only five divisions to examine +in succession, from foundation to roof.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_51"><img src="images/img260.jpg" width="500" height="100" alt="Fig. LI." title="Fig. LI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. But in the decoration of these several parts, certain +minor conditions of ornament occur which are of perfectly +general application. For instance, whether, in archivolts, +jambs, or buttresses, or in square piers, or at the extremity of +the entire building, we necessarily have the awkward (moral +or architectural) feature, the <i>corner</i>. How to turn a corner +gracefully becomes, therefore, a perfectly general question; to +be examined without reference to any particular part of the +edifice.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. Again, the furrows and ridges by which bars of parallel +light and shade are obtained, whether these are employed +in arches, or jambs, or bases, or cornices, must of necessity +present one or more of six forms: square projection, <i>a</i> (<a href="#fig_51">Fig. +LI.</a>), or square recess, <i>b</i>, sharp projection, <i>c</i>, or sharp recess, <i>d</i>, +curved projection, <i>e</i>, or curved recess, <i>f</i>. What odd curves +the projection or recess may assume, or how these different +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page261"></a>261</span> +conditions may be mixed and run into one another, is not our +present business. We note only the six distinct kinds or types.</p> + +<p>Now, when these ridges or furrows are on a small scale +they often themselves constitute all the ornament required for +larger features, and are left smooth cut; but on a very large +scale they are apt to become insipid, and they require a sub-ornament +of their own, the consideration of which is, of course, +in great part, general, and irrespective of the place held by the +mouldings in the building itself: which consideration I think +we had better undertake first of all.</p> + +<p class="mb">§ <span class="scs">V</span>. But before we come to particular examination of these +minor forms, let us see how far we can simplify it. Look back +to <a href="#fig_51">Fig. LI.</a>, above. There are distinguished in it six forms of +moulding. Of these, <i>c</i> is nothing but a small corner; but, for +convenience sake, it is better to call it an edge, and to consider +its decoration together with that of the member <i>a</i>, which is +called a fillet; while <i>e</i>, which I shall call a roll (because I do +not choose to assume that it shall be only of the semicircular +section here given), is also best considered together with its +relative recess, <i>f</i>; and because the shape of a recess is of no +great consequence, I shall class all the three recesses together, +and we shall thus have only three subjects for separate consideration:—</p> + +<p class="mn">1. The Angle.</p> +<p class="mn">2. The Edge and Fillet.</p> +<p class="mn">3. The Roll and Recess.</p> + +<p class="mt">§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. There are two other general forms which may probably +occur to the reader’s mind, namely, the ridge (as of a roof), +which is a corner laid on its back, or sloping,—a supine corner, +decorated in a very different manner from a stiff upright +corner: and the point, which is a concentrated corner, and has +wonderfully elaborate decorations all to its insignificant self, +finials, and spikes, and I know not what more. But both these +conditions are so closely connected with roofs (even the cusp +finial being a kind of pendant to a small roof), that I think it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page262"></a>262</span> +better to class them and their ornament under the head of roof +decoration, together with the whole tribe of crockets and +bosses; so that we shall be here concerned only with the three +subjects above distinguished: and, first, the corner or Angle.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. The mathematician knows there are many kinds of +angles; but the one we have principally to deal with now, is +that which the reader may very easily conceive as the corner +of a square house, or square anything. It is of course the one +of most frequent occurrence; and its treatment, once understood, +may, with slight modification, be referred to other corners, +sharper or blunter, or with curved sides.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. Evidently the first and roughest idea which would +occur to any one who found a corner troublesome, would be +to cut it off. This is a very summary and tyrannical proceeding, +somewhat barbarous, yet advisable if nothing else can be done: +an amputated corner is said to be chamfered. It can, however, +evidently be cut off in three ways: +1. with a concave cut, <i>a</i>; 2. with +a straight cut, <i>b</i>; 3. with a convex +cut, <i>c</i>, <a href="#fig_52">Fig. LII.</a></p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_52"><img src="images/img262.jpg" width="300" height="130" alt="Fig. LII." title="Fig. LII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>The first two methods, the +most violent and summary, have +the apparent disadvantage that we get by them,—two corners +instead of one; much milder corners, however, and with a different +light and shade between them; so that both methods +are often very expedient. You may see the straight chamfer +(<i>b</i>) on most lamp posts, and pillars at railway stations, it being +the easiest to cut: the concave chamfer requires more care, and +occurs generally in well-finished but simple architecture—very +beautifully in the small arches of the Broletto of Como, <a href="#plate_5">Plate +V.</a>; and the straight chamfer in architecture of every kind, +very constantly in Norman cornices and arches, as in Fig. 2, +<a href="#plate_4">Plate IV.</a>, at Sens.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. The third, or convex chamfer, as it is the gentlest +mode of treatment, so (as in medicine and morals) it is very +generally the best. For while the two other methods produce +two corners instead of one, this gentle chamfer does verily get +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page263"></a>263</span> +rid of the corner altogether, and substitutes a soft curve in its +place.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_53"><img src="images/img263.jpg" width="500" height="342" alt="Fig. LIII." title="Fig. LIII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>But it has, in the form above given, this grave disadvantage, +that it looks as if the corner had been rubbed or worn off, +blunted by time and weather, and in want of sharpening again. +A great deal often depends, and in such a case as this, everything +depends, on the <i>Voluntariness</i> of the ornament. The +work of time is beautiful on surfaces, but not on edges intended +to be sharp. Even if we needed them blunt, we should not +like them blunt on compulsion; so, to show that the bluntness +is our own ordaining, we will put a slight incised line to mark +off the rounding, and show that it goes no farther than we +choose. We shall thus have the section <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_53">Fig. LIII.</a>; and +this mode of turning an angle is one of the very best ever invented. +By enlarging and deepening the incision, we get in +succession the forms <i>b</i>, <i>c</i>, <i>d</i>; and by describing a small equal +arc on each of the sloping lines of these figures, we get <i>e</i>, <i>f</i>, +<i>g</i>, <i>h</i>.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. I do not know whether these mouldings are called by +architects chamfers or beads; but I think <i>bead</i> a bad word for +a continuous moulding, and the proper sense of the word +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page264"></a>264</span> +chamfer is fixed by Spenser as descriptive not merely of truncation, +but of trench or furrow:—</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p class="ind03">“Tho gin you, fond flies, the cold to scorn,</p> +<p>And, crowing in pipes made of green corn,</p> +<p>You thinken to be lords of the year;</p> +<p>But eft when ye count you freed from fear,</p> +<p>Comes the breme winter with chamfred brows,</p> +<p>Full of wrinkles and frosty furrows.”</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>So I shall call the above mouldings beaded chamfers, when +there is any chance of confusion with the plain chamfer, <i>a</i>, or +<i>b</i>, of <a href="#fig_52">Fig. LII.</a>: and when there is no such chance, I shall use +the word chamfer only.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. Of those above given, <i>b</i> is the constant chamfer of +Venice, and <i>a</i> of Verona: <i>a</i> being the grandest and best, and +having a peculiar precision and quaintness of effect about it. +I found it twice in Venice, used on the sharp angle, as at <i>a</i> and +<i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_54">Fig. LIV.</a>, <i>a</i> being from the angle of a house on the Rio San +Zulian, and <i>b</i> from the windows of the church of San Stefano.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LIV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_54"><img src="images/img264.jpg" width="350" height="460" alt="Fig. LIV." title="Fig. LIV." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. There is, however, evidently another variety of the +chamfers, <i>f</i> and <i>g</i>, <a href="#fig_53">Fig. +LIII.</a>, formed by an unbroken +curve instead of +two curves, as <i>c</i>, <a href="#fig_54">Fig. LIV.</a>; +and when this, or the chamfer +<i>d</i>, <a href="#fig_53">Fig. LIII.</a>, is large, +it is impossible to say +whether they have been +devised from the incised +angle, or from small shafts +set in a nook, as at <i>e</i>, <a href="#fig_54">Fig. +LIV.</a>, or in the hollow of +the curved chamfer, as <i>d</i>, +<a href="#fig_54">Fig. LIV.</a> In general, +however, the shallow chamfers, +<i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>e</i>, and <i>f</i>, <a href="#fig_53">Fig. +LIII.</a>, are peculiar to southern +work; and may be assumed to have been derived from the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page265"></a>265</span> +incised angle, while the deep chamfers, <i>c</i>, <i>d</i>, <i>g</i>, <i>h</i>, are characteristic +of northern work, and may be partly derived or imitated +from the angle shaft; while, with the usual extravagance of +the northern architects, they are cut deeper and deeper until +we arrive at the condition <i>f</i>, <a href="#fig_54">Fig. LIV.</a>, which is the favorite +chamfer at Bourges and Bayeux, and in other good French +work.</p> + +<p>I have placed in the Appendix<a name="FnAnchor_73" href="#Footnote_73"><span class="sp">73</span></a> a figure belonging to this +subject, but which cannot interest the general reader, showing +the number of possible chamfers with a roll moulding of given +size.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. If we take the plain chamfer, <i>b</i>, of <a href="#fig_52">Fig. LII.</a>, on a +large scale, as at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_55">Fig. LV.</a>, and bead both its edges, cutting +away the parts there shaded, we shall have a form much used +in richly decorated Gothic, both in England and Italy. It +might be more simply described as the chamfer <i>a</i> of <a href="#fig_52">Fig. LII.</a>, +with an incision on each +edge; but the part here +shaded is often worked +into ornamental forms, not +being entirely cut away.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_55"><img src="images/img265.jpg" width="350" height="182" alt="Fig. LV." title="Fig. LV." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. Many other +mouldings, which at first +sight appear very elaborate, +are nothing more than a chamfer, with a series of small +echoes of it on each side, dying away with a ripple on the +surface of the wall, as in <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_55">Fig. LV.</a>, from Coutances (observe, +here the white part is the solid stone, the shade is cut +away).</p> + +<p>Chamfers of this kind are used on a small scale and in delicate +work: the coarse chamfers are found on all scales: <i>f</i> and +<i>g</i>, <a href="#fig_53">Fig. LIII.</a>, in Venice, form the great angles of almost every +Gothic palace; the roll being a foot or a foot and a half round, +and treated as a shaft, with a capital and fresh base at every +story, while the stones of which it is composed form alternate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page266"></a>266</span> +quoins in the brickwork beyond the chamfer curve. I need +hardly say how much nobler this arrangement is than a common +quoined angle; it gives a finish to the aspect of the whole +pile attainable in no other way. And thus much may serve +concerning angle decoration by chamfer.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_73" href="#FnAnchor_73"><span class="fn">73</span></a> <a href="#app_23">Appendix 23</a>: “Varieties of Chamfer.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page267"></a>267</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_23"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3> + +<h5>THE EDGE AND FILLET.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">The</span> decoration of the angle by various forms of chamfer +and bead, as above described, is the quietest method we can +employ; too quiet, when great energy is to be given to the +moulding, and impossible, when, instead of a bold angle, we +have to deal with a small projecting edge, like <i>c</i> in <a href="#fig_51">Fig. LI.</a> +In such cases we may employ a decoration, far ruder and easier +in its simplest conditions than the bead, far more effective +when not used in too great profusion; and of which the complete +developments are the source of mouldings at once the +most picturesque and most serviceable which the Gothic +builders invented.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. The gunwales of the Venetian heavy barges being +liable to somewhat rough collision with each other, and with +the walls of the streets, are generally protected by a piece of +timber, which projects in the form of the fillet, <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_51">Fig. LI.</a>; +but which, like all other fillets, may, if we so choose, be considered +as composed of two angles or edges, which the natural +and most wholesome love of the Venetian boatmen for ornament, +otherwise strikingly evidenced by their painted sails +and glittering flag-vanes, will not suffer to remain wholly +undecorated. The rough service of these timbers, however, +will not admit of rich ornament, and the boatbuilder usually +contents himself with cutting a series of notches in each edge, +one series alternating with the other, as represented at 1, +<a href="#plate_9">Plate IX.</a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. In that simple ornament, not as confined to Venetian +boats, but as representative of a general human instinct to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page268"></a>268</span> +hack at an edge, demonstrated by all school-boys and all idle +possessors of penknives or other cutting instruments on both +sides of the Atlantic;—in that rude Venetian gunwale, I say, is +the germ of all the ornament which has touched, with its rich +successions of angular shadow, the portals and archivolts of nearly +every early building of importance, from the North Cape to +the Straits of Messina. Nor are the modifications of the first +suggestion intricate. All that is generic in their character may +be seen on <a href="#plate_9">Plate IX.</a> at a glance.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">IX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_9"><img src="images/img268.jpg" width="406" height="650" alt="EDGE DECORATION." title="EDGE DECORATION." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">EDGE DECORATION.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. Taking a piece of stone instead of timber, and enlarging +the notches, until they meet each other, we have the +condition 2, which is a moulding from the tomb of the Doge +Andrea Dandolo, in St. Mark’s. Now, considering this moulding +as composed of two decorated edges, each edge will be +reduced, by the meeting of the notches, to a series of four-sided +pyramids (as marked off by the dotted lines), which, the notches +here being shallow, will be shallow pyramids; but by deepening +the notches, we get them as at 3, with a profile <i>a</i>, more or +less steep. This moulding I shall always call “the plain dogtooth;” +it is used in profusion in the Venetian and Veronese +Gothic, generally set with its front to the spectator, as here at +3; but its effect may be much varied by placing it obliquely +(4, and profile as at <i>b</i>); or with one side horizontal (5, and profile +<i>c</i>). Of these three conditions, 3 and 5 are exactly the same +in reality, only differently placed; but in 4 the pyramid is +obtuse, and the inclination of its base variable, the upper side +of it being always kept vertical. It is comparatively rare. Of +the three, the last, 5, is far the most brilliant in effect, giving +in the distance a zigzag form to the high light on it, and a full +sharp shadow below. The use of this shadow is sufficiently +seen by fig. 7 in this plate (the arch on the left, the number +beneath it), in which these levelled dogteeth, with a small interval +between each, are employed to set off by their vigor the +delicacy of floral ornament above. This arch is the side of a +niche from the tomb of Can Signorio della Scala, at Verona; +and the value, as well as the distant expression of its dogtooth, +may be seen by referring to Prout’s beautiful drawing of this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page269"></a>269</span> +tomb in his “Sketches in France and Italy.” I have before +observed that this artist never fails of seizing the true and leading +expression of whatever he touches: he has made this ornament +the leading feature of the niche, expressing it, as in +distance it is only expressible, by a zigzag.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. The reader may perhaps be surprised at my speaking +so highly of this drawing, if he take the pains to compare +Prout’s symbolism of the work on the niche with the facts as +they stand here in <a href="#plate_9">Plate IX.</a> But the truth is that Prout has +rendered the effect of the monument on the mind of the passer-by;—the +effect it was intended to have on every man who +turned the corner of the street beneath it: and in this sense +there is actually more truth and likeness<a name="FnAnchor_74" href="#Footnote_74"><span class="sp">74</span></a> in Prout’s translation +than in my fac-simile, made diligently by peering into the +details from a ladder. I do not say that all the symbolism in +Prout’s Sketch is the best possible; but it is the best which any +architectural draughtsman has yet invented; and in its application +to special subjects it always shows curious internal evidence +that the sketch has been made on the spot, and that the artist +tried to draw what he saw, not to invent an attractive subject. +I shall notice other instances of this hereafter.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. The dogtooth, employed in this simple form, is, however, +rather a foil for other ornament, than itself a satisfactory +or generally available decoration. It is, however, easy to enrich +it as we choose: taking up its simple form at 3, and describing +the arcs marked by the dotted lines upon its sides, and cutting +a small triangular cavity between them, we shall leave its ridges +somewhat rudely representative of four leaves, as at 8, which is +the section and front view of one of the Venetian stone cornices +described above, <a href="#chap_14">Chap. XIV.</a>, § <span class="scs">IV</span>., the figure 8 being here put +in the hollow of the gutter. The dogtooth is put on the outer +lower truncation, and is actually in position as fig. 5; but +being always looked up to, is to the spectator as 3, and always +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page270"></a>270</span> +rich and effective. The dogteeth are perhaps most frequently +expanded to the width of fig. 9.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. As in nearly all other ornaments previously described, +so in this,—we have only to deepen the Italian cutting, and we +shall get the Northern type. If we make the original pyramid +somewhat steeper, and instead of lightly incising, cut it through, +so as to have the leaves held only by their points to the base, +we shall have the English dogtooth; somewhat vulgar in its +piquancy, when compared with French mouldings of a similar +kind.<a name="FnAnchor_75" href="#Footnote_75"><span class="sp">75</span></a> It occurs, I think, on one house in Venice, in the +Campo St. Polo; but the ordinary moulding, with light incisions, +is frequent in archivolts and architraves, as well as in the +roof cornices.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. This being the simplest treatment of the pyramid, +fig. 10, from the refectory of Wenlock Abbey, is an example +of the simplest decoration of the recesses or inward angles +between the pyramids; that is to say, of a simple hacked edge +like one of those in fig. 2, the <i>cuts</i> being taken up and decorated +instead of the <i>points</i>. Each is worked into a small trefoiled +arch, with an incision round it to mark its outline, and another +slight incision above, expressing the angle of the first cutting. +I said that the teeth in fig. 7 had in distance the effect of a zigzag: +in fig. 10 this zigzag effect is seized upon and developed, +but with the easiest and roughest work; the angular incision +being a mere limiting line, like that described in § <span class="scs">IX</span>. of the +last chapter. But hence the farther steps to every condition of +Norman ornament are self evident. I do not say that all of +them arose from development of the dogtooth in this manner, +many being quite independent inventions and uses of zigzag +lines; still, they may all be referred to this simple type as their +root and representative, that is to say, the mere hack of the +Venetian gunwale, with a limiting line following the resultant +zigzag.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. Fig. 11 is a singular and much more artificial condition, +cast in brick, from the church of the Frari, and given +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page271"></a>271</span> +here only for future reference. Fig. 12, resulting from a fillet +with the cuts on each of its edges interrupted by a bar, is a +frequent Venetian moulding, and of great value; but the plain +or leaved dogteeth have been the favorites, and that to such a +degree, that even the Renaissance architects took them up; +and the best bit of Renaissance design in Venice, the side of +the Ducal Palace next the Bridge of Sighs, owes great part of +its splendor to its foundation, faced with large flat dogteeth, +each about a foot wide in the base, with their points truncated, +and alternating with cavities which are their own negatives or +casts.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. One other form of the dogtooth is of great importance +in northern architecture, that produced by oblique cuts +slightly curved, as in the margin, <a href="#fig_56">Fig. LVI.</a> It is susceptible +of the most fantastic and endless decoration; each of the resulting +leaves being, in the early porches of Rouen and Lisieux, +hollowed out and worked into branching tracery: and at +Bourges, for distant effect, worked into plain leaves, or bold +bony processes with knobs at the points, and near the spectator, +into crouching demons and broad winged owls, and other +fancies and intricacies, innumerable and inexpressible.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LVI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_56"><img src="images/img271.jpg" width="110" height="316" alt="Fig. LVI." title="Fig. LVI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. Thus much is enough to be noted respecting edge +decoration. We were next to consider the fillet. +Professor Willis has noticed an ornament, which +he has called the Venetian dentil, “as the most +universal ornament in its own district that ever I +met with;” but has not noticed the reason for its +frequency. It is nevertheless highly interesting.</p> + +<p>The whole early architecture of Venice is +architecture of incrustation: this has not been +enough noticed in its peculiar relation to that of +the rest of Italy. There is, indeed, much incrusted +architecture throughout Italy, in elaborate +ecclesiastical work, but there is more which is +frankly of brick, or thoroughly of stone. But the Venetian +habitually incrusted his work with <span class="correction" title="changed from 'macre'">nacre</span>; he built his houses, +even the meanest, as if he had been a shell-fish,—roughly inside, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page272"></a>272</span> +mother-of-pearl on the surface: he was content, perforce, +to gather the clay of the Brenta banks, and bake it into brick +for his substance of wall; but he overlaid it with the wealth +of ocean, with the most precious foreign marbles. You might +fancy early Venice one wilderness of brick, which a petrifying +sea had beaten upon till it coated it with marble: at first a +dark city—washed white by the sea foam. And I told you +before that it was also a city of shafts and arches, and that its +dwellings were raised upon continuous arcades, among which +the sea waves wandered. Hence the thoughts of its builders +were early and constantly directed to the incrustation of +arches.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LVII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_57"><img src="images/img272.jpg" width="300" height="191" alt="Fig. LVII." title="Fig. LVII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. In <a href="#fig_57">Fig. LVII.</a> I have given two of these Byzantine +stilted arches: the one on the right, <i>a</i>, as they now too often +appear, in its bare brickwork; that on the left, with its alabaster +covering, literally marble defensive armor, riveted +together in pieces, which follow the contours of the building. +Now, on the wall, these pieces are mere flat slabs cut to the +arch outline; but under the +soffit of the arch the marble +mail is curved, often cut +singularly thin, like bent +tiles, and fitted together so +that the pieces would sustain +each other even without +rivets. It is of course desirable +that this thin sub-arch +of marble should project enough to sustain the facing of +the wall; and the reader will see, in <a href="#fig_57">Fig. LVII.</a>, that its edge +forms a kind of narrow band round the arch (<i>b</i>), a band which +the least enrichment would render a valuable decorative feature. +Now this band is, of course, if the soffit-pieces project +a little beyond the face of the wall-pieces, a mere fillet, like the +wooden gunwale in <a href="#plate_9">Plate IX.</a>; and the question is, how to +enrich it most wisely. It might easily have been dogtoothed, +but the Byzantine architects had not invented the dogtooth, +and would not have used it here, if they had; for the dogtooth +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page273"></a>273</span> +cannot be employed alone, especially on so principal an angle +as this of the main arches, without giving to the whole building +a peculiar look, which I can <span class="correction" title="changed from 'no'">not</span> otherwise describe than as +being to the eye, exactly what untempered acid is to the +tongue. The mere dogtooth is an <i>acid</i> moulding, and can +only be used in certain mingling with others, to give them +piquancy; never alone. What, then, will be the next easiest +method of giving interest to the fillet?</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LVIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_58"><img src="images/img273.jpg" width="160" height="429" alt="Fig. LVIII." title="Fig. LVIII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. Simply to make the incisions square instead of sharp, +and to leave equal intervals of the square edge between them. +<a href="#fig_58">Fig. LVIII.</a> is one of the curved pieces of arch armor, with its +edge thus treated; one side only being done at the bottom, to +show the simplicity and ease of the work. This ornament +gives force and interest to the edge of the arch, without in the +least diminishing its quietness. Nothing +was ever, nor could be ever invented, fitter +for its purpose, or more easily cut. From +the arch it therefore found its way into +every position where the edge of a piece of +stone projected, and became, from its constancy +of occurrence in the latest Gothic +as well as the earliest Byzantine, most truly +deserving of the name of the “Venetian +Dentil.” Its complete intention is now, +however, only to be seen in the pictures of +Gentile Bellini and Vittor Carpaccio; for, +like most of the rest of the mouldings of +Venetian buildings, it was always either +gilded or painted—often both, gold being +laid on the faces of the dentils, and their +recesses colored alternately red and blue.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. Observe, however, that the reason +above given for the <i>universality</i> of +this ornament was by no means the reason of its <i>invention</i>. +The Venetian dentil is a particular application (consequent on +the incrusted character of Venetian architecture) of the general +idea of dentil, which had been originally given by the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page274"></a>274</span> +Greeks, and realised both by them and by the Byzantines in +many laborious forms, long before there was need of them for +arch armor; and the lower half of <a href="#plate_9">Plate IX.</a> will give some +idea of the conditions which occur in the Romanesque of +Venice, distinctly derived from the classical dentil; and of the +gradual transition to the more convenient and simple type, the +running-hand dentil, which afterwards became the characteristic +of Venetian Gothic. No. 13<a name="FnAnchor_76" href="#Footnote_76"><span class="sp">76</span></a> is the common dentiled +cornice, which occurs repeatedly in St. Mark’s; and, as late as +the thirteenth century, a reduplication of it, forming the abaci +of the capitals of the Piazzetta shafts. Fig. 15 is perhaps an +earlier type; perhaps only one of more careless workmanship, +from a Byzantine ruin in the Rio di Ca’ Foscari: and it is +interesting to compare it with fig. 14 from the Cathedral of +Vienne, in South France. Fig. 17, from St. Mark’s, and 18, +from the apse of Murano, are two very early examples in which +the future true Venetian dentil is already developed in method +of execution, though the object is still only to imitate the +classical one; and a rude imitation of the bead is joined with +it in fig. 17. No. 16 indicates two examples of experimental +forms: the uppermost from the tomb of Mastino della Scala, +at Verona; the lower from a door in Venice, I believe, of the +thirteenth century: 19 is a more frequent arrangement, chiefly +found in cast brick, and connecting the dentils with the dogteeth: +20 is a form introduced richly in the later Gothic, but +of rare occurrence until the latter half of the thirteenth century. +I shall call it the <i>gabled</i> dentil. It is found in the +greatest profusion in sepulchral Gothic, associated with several +slight variations from the usual dentil type, of which No. 21, +from the tomb of Pietro Cornaro, may serve as an example.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV</span>. All the forms given in <a href="#plate_9">Plate IX.</a> are of not unfrequent +occurrence: varying much in size and depth, according +to the expression of the work in which they occur; generally +increasing in size in late work (the earliest dentils are seldom +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page275"></a>275</span> +more than an inch or an inch and a half long: the fully +developed dentil of the later Gothic is often as much as four +or five in length, by one and a half in breadth); but they are +all somewhat rare, compared to the true or armor dentil, +above described. On the other hand, there are one or two +unique conditions, which will be noted in the buildings where +they occur.<a name="FnAnchor_77" href="#Footnote_77"><span class="sp">77</span></a> The Ducal Palace furnishes three anomalies in +the arch, dogtooth, and dentil: it has a hyperbolic arch, as +noted above, <a href="#chap_10">Chap. X.</a>, § <span class="scs">XV</span>.; it has a double-fanged dogtooth +in the rings of the spiral shafts on its angles; and, +finally, it has a dentil with concave sides, of which the section +and two of the blocks, real size, are given in <a href="#plate_14">Plate XIV.</a> The +labor of obtaining this difficult profile has, however, been +thrown away; for the effect of the dentil at ten feet distance +is exactly the same as that of the usual form: and the reader +may consider the dogtooth and dentil in that plate as fairly +representing the common use of them in the Venetian Gothic.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. I am aware of no other form of fillet decoration +requiring notice: in the Northern Gothic, the fillet is employed +chiefly to give severity or flatness to mouldings supposed +to be too much rounded, and is therefore generally +plain. It is itself an ugly moulding, and, when thus employed, +is merely a foil for others, of which, however, it at last +usurped the place, and became one of the most painful features +in the debased Gothic both of Italy and the North.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_74" href="#FnAnchor_74"><span class="fn">74</span></a> I do not here speak of artistical merits, but the play of the light among +the lower shafts is also singularly beautiful in this sketch of Prout’s, and +the character of the wild and broken leaves, half dead, on the stone of the +foreground.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_75" href="#FnAnchor_75"><span class="fn">75</span></a> Vide the “Seven Lamps,” p. 122.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_76" href="#FnAnchor_76"><span class="fn">76</span></a> The sections of all the mouldings are given on the right of each; the +part which is constantly solid being shaded, and that which is cut into +dentils left.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_77" href="#FnAnchor_77"><span class="fn">77</span></a> As, however, we shall not probably be led either to Bergamo or +Bologna, I may mention here a curiously rich use of the dentil, entirely +covering the foliation and tracery of a niche on the outside of the duomo +of Bergamo; and a roll, entirely incrusted, as the handle of a mace often +is with nails, with massy dogteeth or nail-heads, on the door of the Pepoli +palace of Bologna.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page276"></a>276</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_24"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3> + +<h5>THE ROLL AND RECESS.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">I have</span> classed these two means of architectural effect +together, because the one is in most cases the negative of the +other, and is used to relieve it exactly as shadow relieves light; +recess alternating with roll, not only in lateral, but in successive +order; not merely side by side with each other, but interrupted +the one by the other in their own lines. A recess itself +has properly no decoration; but its depth gives value to the +decoration which flanks, encloses, or interrupts it, and the +form which interrupts it best is the roll.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. I use the word roll generally for any mouldings +which present to the eye somewhat the appearance of being +cylindrical, and look like round rods. When upright, they are +in appearance, if not in fact, small shafts; and are a kind of +bent shaft, even when used in archivolts and traceries;—when +horizontal, they confuse themselves with cornices, and are, in +fact, generally to be considered as the best means of drawing +an architectural line in any direction, the soft curve of their +side obtaining some shadow at nearly all times of the day, and +that more tender and grateful to the eye than can be obtained +either by an incision or by any other form of projection.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. Their decorative power is, however, too slight for +rich work, and they frequently require, like the angle and the +fillet, to be rendered interesting by subdivision or minor ornament +of their own. When the roll is small, this is effected, +exactly as in the case of the fillet, by cutting pieces out of it; +giving in the simplest results what is called the Norman billet +moulding: and when the cuts are given in couples, and the +pieces rounded into spheres and almonds, we have the ordinary +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page277"></a>277</span> +Greek bead, both of them too well known to require illustration. +The Norman billet we shall not meet with in Venice; +the bead constantly occurs in Byzantine, and of course in +Renaissance work. In <a href="#plate_9">Plate IX.</a>, Fig. 17, there is a remarkable +example of its early treatment, where the cuts in it are left +sharp.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. But the roll, if it be of any size, deserves better treatment. +Its rounded surface is too beautiful to be cut away in +notches; and it is rather to be covered with flat chasing or inlaid +patterns. Thus ornamented, it gradually blends itself with +the true shaft, both in the Romanesque work of the North, and +in the Italian connected schools; and the patterns used for it +are those used for shaft decoration in general.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. But, as alternating with the recess, it has a decoration +peculiar to itself. We have often, in the preceding chapters, +noted the fondness of the Northern builders for deep shade +and hollowness in their mouldings; and in the second chapter +of the “Seven Lamps,” the changes are described which reduced +the massive roll mouldings of the early Gothic to a +series of recesses, separated by bars of light. The shape of +these recesses is at present a matter of no importance to us: it +was, indeed, endlessly varied; but needlessly, for the value of +a recess is in its darkness, and its darkness disguises its form. +But it was not in mere wanton indulgence of their love of +shade that the Flamboyant builders deepened the furrows of +their mouldings: they had found a means of decorating those +furrows as rich as it was expressive, and the entire frame-work +of their architecture was designed with a view to the effect of +this decoration; where the ornament ceases, the frame-work is +meagre and mean: but the ornament is, in the best examples of +the style, unceasing.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. It is, in fact, an ornament formed by the ghosts or +anatomies of the old shafts, left in the furrows which had +taken their place. Every here and there, a fragment of a roll +or shaft is left in the recess or furrow: a billet-moulding on a +huge scale, but a billet-moulding reduced to a skeleton; for +the fragments of roll are cut hollow, and worked into mere +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page278"></a>278</span> +entanglement of stony fibres, with the gloom of the recess +shown through them. These ghost rolls, forming sometimes +pedestals, sometimes canopies, sometimes covering the whole +recess with an arch of tracery, beneath which it runs like a +tunnel, are the peculiar decorations of the Flamboyant Gothic.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. Now observe, in all kinds of decoration, we must +keep carefully under separate heads, the consideration of the +changes wrought in the mere physical form, and in the intellectual +purpose of ornament. The relations of the canopy to +the statue it shelters, are to be considered altogether distinctly +from those of the canopy to the building which it decorates. +In its earliest conditions the canopy is partly confused with +representations of miniature architecture: it is sometimes a +small temple or gateway, sometimes a honorary addition to +the pomp of a saint, a covering to his throne, or to his shrine; +and this canopy is often expressed in bas-relief (as in painting), +without much reference to the great requirements of the building. +At other times it is a real protection to the statue, and is +enlarged into a complete pinnacle, carried on proper shafts, and +boldly roofed. But in the late northern system the canopies +are neither expressive nor protective. They are a kind of +stone lace-work, required for the ornamentation of the building, +for which the statues are often little more than an excuse, +and of which the physical character is, as above described, that +of ghosts of departed shafts.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. There is, of course, much rich tabernacle work +which will not come literally under this head, much which is +straggling or flat in its plan, connecting itself gradually with +the ordinary forms of independent shrines and tombs; but the +general idea of all tabernacle work is marked in the common +phrase of a “niche,” that is to say a hollow intended for a +statue, and crowned by a canopy; and this niche decoration +only reaches its full development when the Flamboyant hollows +are cut deepest, and when the manner and spirit of sculpture +had so much lost their purity and intensity that it became +desirable to draw the eye away from the statue to its covering, +so that at last the canopy became the more important of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page279"></a>279</span> +the two, and is itself so beautiful that we are often contented +with architecture from which profanity has struck the statues, +if only the canopies are left; and consequently, in our modern +ingenuity, even set up canopies where we have no intention of +setting statues.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. It is a pity that thus we have no really noble example +of the effect of the statue in the recesses of architecture: for +the Flamboyant recess was not so much a preparation for it +as a gulf which swallowed it up. When statues were most +earnestly designed, they were thrust forward in all kinds of +places, often in front of the pillars, as at Amiens, awkwardly +enough, but with manly respect to the purpose of the figures. +The Flamboyant hollows yawned at their sides, the statues +fell back into them, and nearly disappeared, and a flash of +flame in the shape of a canopy rose as they expired.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. I do not feel myself capable at present of speaking +with perfect justice of this niche ornament of the north, my +late studies in Italy having somewhat destroyed my sympathies +with it. But I once loved it intensely, and will not say anything +to depreciate it now, save only this, that while I have +studied long at Abbeville, without in the least finding that it +made me care less for Verona, I never remained long in +Verona without feeling some doubt of the nobility of Abbeville.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. Recess decoration by leaf mouldings is constantly and +beautifully associated in the north with niche decoration, but +requires no special notice, the recess in such cases being used +merely to give value to the leafage by its gloom, and the difference +between such conditions and those of the south being +merely that in the one the leaves are laid across a hollow, and +in the other over a solid surface; but in neither of the schools +exclusively so, each in some degree intermingling the method +of the other.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. Finally the recess decoration by the ball flower is +very definite and characteristic, found, I believe, chiefly in +English work. It consists merely in leaving a small boss or +sphere, fixed, as it were, at intervals in the hollows; such +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page280"></a>280</span> +bosses being afterwards carved into roses, or other ornamental +forms, and sometimes lifted quite up out of the hollow, on +projecting processes, like vertebræ, so as to make them more +conspicuous, as throughout the decoration of the cathedral of +Bourges.</p> + +<p>The value of this ornament is chiefly in the <i>spotted</i> character +which it gives to the lines of mouldings seen from a distance. +It is very rich and delightful when not used in excess; +but it would satiate and weary the eye if it were ever used in +general architecture. The spire of Salisbury, and of St. +Mary’s at Oxford, are agreeable as isolated masses; but if an +entire street were built with this spotty decoration at every +casement, we could not traverse it to the end without disgust. +It is only another example of the constant aim at piquancy of +effect which characterised the northern builders; an ingenious +but somewhat vulgar effort to give interest to their grey masses +of coarse stone, without overtaking their powers either of invention +or execution. We will thank them for it without +blame or praise, and pass on.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page281"></a>281</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_25"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h3> + +<h5>THE BASE.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">We</span> know now as much as is needful respecting the +methods of minor and universal decorations, which were distinguished +in Chapter XXII., § <span class="scs">III</span>., from the ornament which +has special relation to particular parts. This local ornament, +which, it will be remembered, we arranged in § <span class="scs">II</span>. of the same +chapter under five heads, we have next, under those heads, to +consider. And, first, the ornament of the bases, both of walls +and shafts.</p> + +<p>It was noticed in our account of the divisions of a wall, that +there are something in those divisions like the beginning, the +several courses, and the close of a human life. And as, in all +well-conducted lives, the hard work, and roughing, and gaining +of strength come first, the honor or decoration in certain +intervals during their course, but most of all in their close, so, +in general, the base of the wall, which is its beginning of labor, +will bear least decoration, its body more, especially those +epochs of rest called its string courses; but its crown or cornice +most of all. Still, in some buildings, all these are decorated +richly, though the last most; and in others, when the base is +well protected and yet conspicuous, it may probably receive +even more decoration than other parts.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. Now, the main things to be expressed in a base are its +levelness and evenness. We cannot do better than construct +the several members of the base, as developed in Fig. II., <a href="#page055">p. +55</a>, each of a different colored marble, so as to produce +marked level bars of color all along the foundation. This is +exquisitely done in all the Italian elaborate wall bases; that of +St. Anastasia at Verona is one of the most perfect existing, for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page282"></a>282</span> +play of color; that of Giotto’s campanile is on the whole the +most beautifully finished. Then, on the vertical portions, <i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, +<i>c</i>, we may put what patterns in mosaic we please, so that they +be not too rich; but if we choose rather to have sculpture (or +<i>must</i> have it for want of stones to inlay), then observe that all +sculpture on bases must be in panels, or it will soon be worn +away, and that a plain panelling is often good without any +other ornament. The member <i>b</i>, which in St. Mark’s is subordinate, +and <i>c</i>, which is expanded into a seat, are both of them +decorated with simple but exquisitely-finished panelling, in red +and white or green and white marble; and the member <i>e</i> is in +bases of this kind very valuable, as an expression of a firm +beginning of the substance of the wall itself. This member +has been of no service to us hitherto, and was unnoticed in the +chapters on construction; but it was expressed in the figure +of the wall base, on account of its great value when the foundation +is of stone and the wall of brick (coated or not). In +such cases it is always better to add the course <i>e</i>, above the +slope of the base, than abruptly to begin the common masonry +of the wall.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. It is, however, with the member <i>d</i>, or Xb, that we +are most seriously concerned; for this being the essential feature +of all bases, and the true preparation for the wall or shaft, +it is most necessary that here, if anywhere, we should have +full expression of levelness and precision; and farther, that, if +possible, the eye should not be suffered to rest on the points +of junction of the stones, which would give an effect of +instability. Both these objects are accomplished by attracting +the eye to two rolls, separated by a deep hollow, in the member +<i>d</i> itself. The bold projections of their mouldings entirely +prevent the attention from being drawn to the joints of the +masonry, and besides form a simple but beautifully connected +group of bars of shadow, which express, in their perfect +parallelism, the absolute levelness of the foundation.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. I need hardly give any perspective drawing of an +arrangement which must be perfectly familiar to the reader, +as occurring under nearly every column of the too numerous +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page283"></a>283</span> +classical buildings all over Europe. But I may name the base +of the Bank of England as furnishing a very simple instance +of the group, with a square instead of a rounded hollow, both +forming the base of the wall, and gathering into that of the +shafts as they occur; while the bases of the pillars of the +façade of the British Museum are as good examples as the +reader can study on a larger scale.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">X.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_10"><img src="images/img283.jpg" width="380" height="650" alt="PROFILES OF BASES." title="PROFILES OF BASES." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">PROFILES OF BASES.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="mb">§ <span class="scs">V</span>. I believe this group of mouldings was first invented +by the Greeks, and it has never been materially improved, as +far as its peculiar purpose is concerned;<a name="FnAnchor_78" href="#Footnote_78"><span class="sp">78</span></a> the classical attempts +at its variation being the ugliest: one, the using a single roll +of larger size, as may be seen in the Duke of York’s column, +which therefore looks as if it stood on a large sausage (the +Monument has the same base, but more concealed by pedestal +decoration): another, the using two rolls without the intermediate +cavetto,—a condition hardly less awkward, and which +may be studied to advantage in the wall and shaftbases of the +Athenæum Club-house: and another, the introduction of what +are called fillets between the rolls, as may be seen in the pillars +of Hanover Chapel, Regent Street, which look, in consequence, +as if they were standing upon a pile of pewter collection +plates. But the only successful changes have been +mediæval; and their nature will be at once understood by a +glance at the varieties given on the opposite page. It will be +well first to give the buildings in which they occur, in order.</p> + +<table class="nobctr f90" style="margin-left: 1em; " summary="data"> + +<tr><td> +<p> 1. Santa Fosca, Torcello.</p> +<p> 2. North transept, St. Mark’s, Venice.</p> +<p> 3. Nave, Torcello.</p> +<p> 4. Nave, Torcello.</p> +<p> 5. South transept, St. Mark’s.</p> +<p> 6. Northern portico, upper shafts, St. Mark’s.</p> +<p> 7. Another of the same group.</p> +<p> 8. Cortile of St. Ambrogio, Milan.</p> +<p> 9. Nave shafts, St. Michele, Pavia.</p> +<p>10. Outside wall base, St. Mark’s, Venice.</p> +<p>11. Fondaco de’ Turchi, Venice.</p> +<p>12. Nave, Vienne, France.</p> +<p>13. Fondaco de’ Turchi, Venice. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page284"></a>284</span></p> +<p>14. Ca’ Giustiniani, Venice.</p></td> + +<td style="border-left: 1px solid black; "> </td> + +<td> +<p>15. Byzantine fragment, Venice.</p> +<p>16. St. Mark’s, upper Colonnade.</p> +<p>17. Ducal Palace, Venice (windows.)</p> +<p>18. Ca’ Falier, Venice.</p> +<p>19. St. Zeno, Verona.</p> +<p>20. San Stefano, Venice.</p> +<p>21. Ducal Palace, Venice (windows.)</p> +<p>22. Nave, Salisbury.</p> +<p>23. Santa Fosca, Torcello.</p> +<p>24. Nave, Lyons Cathedral.</p> +<p>25. Notre Dame, Dijon.</p> +<p>26. Nave, Bourges Cathedral.</p> +<p>27. Nave, Mortain (Normandy).</p> +<p>28. Nave, Rouen Cathedral.</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="mt">§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. Eighteen out of the twenty eight varieties are Venetian, +being bases to which I shall have need of future reference; +but the interspersed examples, 8, 9, 12, and 19, from +Milan, Pavia, Vienne (France), and Verona, show the exactly +correspondent conditions of the Romanesque base at the period, +throughout the centre of Europe. The last five examples +show the changes effected by the French Gothic architects: the +Salisbury base (22) I have only introduced to show its dulness +and vulgarity beside them; and 23, from Torcello, for a special +reason, in that place.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. The reader will observe that the two bases, 8 and 9, +from the two most important Lombardic churches of Italy, +St. Ambrogio of Milan and St. Michele of Pavia, mark the +character of the barbaric base founded on pure Roman models, +sometimes approximating to such models very closely; and +the varieties 10, 11, 13, 16 are Byzantine types, also founded +on Roman models. But in the bases 1 to 7 inclusive, and, +still more characteristically, in 23 below, there is evidently +an original element, a tendency to use the fillet and hollow +instead of the roll, which is eminently Gothic; which in the +base 3 reminds one even of Flamboyant conditions, and is +excessively remarkable as occurring in Italian work certainly +not later than the tenth century, taking even the date of the +last rebuilding of the Duomo of Torcello, though I am strongly +inclined to consider these bases portions of the original church. +And I have therefore put the base 23 among the Gothic group +to which it has so strong relationship, though, on the last supposition, +five centuries older than the earliest of the five +terminal examples; and it is still more remarkable because it +reverses the usual treatment of the lower roll, which is in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page285"></a>285</span> +general a tolerably accurate test of the age of a base, in the +degree of its projection. Thus, in the examples 2, 3, 4, 5, 9, +10, 12, the lower roll is hardly rounded at all, and diametrically +opposed to the late Gothic conditions, 24 to 28, in which +it advances gradually, like a wave preparing to break, and at +last is actually seen curling over with the long-backed rush of +surf upon the shore. Yet the Torcello base resembles these +Gothic ones both in expansion beneath and in depth of cavetto +above.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. There can be no question of the ineffable superiority +of these Gothic bases, in grace of profile, to any ever invented +by the ancients. But they have all two great faults: They +seem, in the first place, to have been designed without sufficient +reference to the necessity of their being usually seen +from above; their grace of profile cannot be estimated when +so seen, and their excessive expansion gives them an appearance +of flatness and separation from the shaft, as if they had +splashed out under its pressure: in the second place their +cavetto is so deeply cut that it has the appearance of a black +fissure between the members of the base; and in the Lyons +and Bourges shafts, 24 and 26, it is impossible to conquer the +idea suggested by it, that the two stones above and below have +been intended to join close, but that some pebbles have got in +and kept them from fitting; one is always expecting the +pebbles to be crushed, and the shaft to settle into its place with +a thunder-clap.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. For these reasons, I said that the profile of the pure +classic base had hardly been materially improved; but the +various conditions of it are beautiful or commonplace, in proportion +to the variety of proportion among their lines and the +delicacy of their curvatures; that is to say, the expression of +characters like those of the abstract lines in <a href="#plate_7">Plate VII.</a></p> + +<p>The five best profiles in <a href="#plate_10">Plate X.</a> are 10, 17, 19, 20, 21; 10 +is peculiarly beautiful in the opposition between the bold projection +of its upper roll, and the delicate leafy curvature of its +lower; and this and 21 may be taken as nearly perfect types, +the one of the steep, the other of the expansive basic profiles. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page286"></a>286</span> +The characters of all, however, are so dependent upon their +place and expression, that it is unfair to judge them thus separately; +and the precision of curvature is a matter of so small +consequence in general effect, that we need not here pursue the +subject farther.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LIX</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_59"><img src="images/img286.jpg" width="350" height="363" alt="Fig. LIX" title="Fig. LIX" /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. We have thus far, however, considered only the lines +of moulding in the member X b, whether of wall or shaft base. +But the reader will remember that in our best shaft base, in +<a href="#fig_12">Fig. XII.</a> (<a href="#page078">p. 78</a>), certain props or spurs were applied to the +slope of X b; but now that +X b is divided into these +delicate mouldings, we cannot +conveniently apply the +spur to its irregular profile; +we must be content to set it +against the lower roll. Let +the upper edge of this lower +roll be the curved line +here, <i>a</i>, <i>d</i>, <i>e</i>, <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_59">Fig. LIX.</a>, +and <i>c</i> the angle of the square +plinth projecting beneath +it. Then the spur, applied +as we saw in <a href="#chap_7">Chap. VII.</a>, +will be of some such form as the triangle <i>c e d</i>, <a href="#fig_59">Fig. LIX.</a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. Now it has just been stated that it is of small importance +whether the abstract lines of the profile of a base moulding +be fine or not, because we rarely stoop down to look at +them. But this triangular spur is nearly always seen from +above, and the eye is drawn to it as one of the most important +features of the whole base; therefore it is a point of immediate +necessity to substitute for its harsh right lines (<i>c d</i>, <i>c e</i>) some +curve of noble abstract character.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. I mentioned, in speaking of the line of the salvia leaf +at <a href="#page224">p. 224</a>, that I had marked off the portion of it, <i>x y</i>, because +I thought it likely to be generally useful to us afterwards; and +I promised the reader that as he had built, so he should decorate +his edifice at his own free will. If, therefore, he likes the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page287"></a>287</span> +above triangular spur, <i>c d e</i>, by all means let him keep it; but +if he be on the whole dissatisfied with it, I may be permitted, +perhaps, to advise him to set to work like a tapestry bee, to cut +off the little bit of line of salvia leaf <i>x y</i>, and try how he can +best substitute it for the awkward lines <i>c d c e</i>. He may try it +any way that he likes; but if he puts the salvia curvature +inside the present lines, he will find the spur looks weak, and I +think he will determine at last on placing it as I have done at +<i>c d</i>, <i>c e</i>, <a href="#fig_60">Fig. LX.</a> (If the reader will be at the pains to transfer +the salvia leaf line with tracing paper, he will find it accurately +used in this figure.) Then I merely add an outer circular +line to represent the outer swell of the roll against which the +spur is set, and I put another such spur to the opposite corner +of the square, and we have the half base, <a href="#fig_60">Fig. LX.</a>, which is a +general type of the best Gothic bases in existence, being very +nearly that of the upper shafts of the Ducal Palace of Venice. +In those shafts the quadrant <i>a b</i>, or the upper edge of the lower +roll, is 2 feet 1-3/8 inches round, and the base of the spur <i>d e</i>, is +10 inches; the line <i>d e</i> being therefore to <i>a b</i> as 10 to 25-3/8. In +<a href="#fig_60">Fig. LX.</a> it is as 10 to 24, the measurement being easier and the +type somewhat more generally representative of the best, <i>i. e.</i> +broadest, spurs of Italian Gothic.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_60"><img src="images/img287.jpg" width="600" height="319" alt="Fig. LX." title="Fig. LX." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. Now, the reader is to remember, there is nothing +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page288"></a>288</span> +magical in salvia leaves: the line I take from them happened +merely to fall conveniently on the page, and might as well +have been taken from anything else; it is simply its character +of gradated curvature which fits it for our use. On <a href="#plate_11">Plate XI.</a>, +opposite, I have given plans of the spurs and quadrants of +twelve Italian and three Northern bases; these latter (13), from +Bourges, (14) from Lyons, (15) from Rouen, are given merely +to show the Northern disposition to break up bounding lines, +and lose breadth in picturesqueness. These Northern bases +look the prettiest in this plate, because this variation of the +outline is nearly all the ornament they have, being cut very +rudely; but the Italian bases above them are merely prepared +by their simple outlines for far richer decoration at the next +step, as we shall see presently. The Northern bases are to be +noted also for another grand error: the projection of the roll +beyond the square plinth, of which the corner is seen, in various +degrees of advancement, in the three examples. 13 is the +base whose profile is No. 26 in <a href="#plate_10">Plate X.</a>; 14 is 24 in the same +plate; and 15 is 28.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">XI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_11"><img src="images/img288.jpg" width="402" height="650" alt="PLANS OF BASES." title="PLANS OF BASES." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">PLANS OF BASES.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. The Italian bases are the following; all, except 7 +and 10, being Venetian: 1 and 2, upper colonnade, St. Mark’s; +3, Ca’ Falier; 4, lower colonnade, and 5, transept, St. Mark’s; +6, from the Church of St. John and Paul; 7, from the tomb +near St. Anastasia, Verona, described above (<a href="#page142">p. 142</a>); 8 and 9, +Fon daco de’ Turchi, Venice; 10, tomb of Can Mastino della +Scala, Verona; 11, San Stefano, Venice; 12, Ducal Palace, +Venice, upper colonnade. The Nos. 3, 8, 9, 11 are the bases +whose profiles are respectively Nos. 18, 11, 13, and 20 in <a href="#plate_10">Plate +X.</a> The flat surfaces of the basic plinths are here shaded; and +in the lower corner of the square occupied by each quadrant is +put, also shaded, the central profile of each spur, from its root +at the roll of the base to its point; those of Nos. 1 and 2 being +conjectural, for their spurs were so rude and ugly, that I took +no note of their profiles; but they would probably be as here +given. As these bases, though here, for the sake of comparison, +reduced within squares of equal size, in reality belong to +shafts of very different size, 9 being some six or seven inches +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page289"></a>289</span> +in diameter, and 6, three or four feet, the proportionate size of +the roll varies accordingly, being largest, as in 9, where the +base is smallest, and in 6 and 12 the leaf profile is given on a +larger scale than the plan, or its character could not have been +exhibited.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">XII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_12"><img src="images/img289.jpg" width="411" height="650" alt="DECORATION OF BASES." title="DECORATION OF BASES." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">DECORATION OF BASES.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV</span>. Now, in all these spurs, the reader will observe that +the narrowest are for the most part the earliest. No. 2, from +the upper colonnade of St. Mark’s, is the only instance I ever +saw of the double spur, as transitive between the square and +octagon plinth; the truncated form, 1, is also rare and very +ugly. Nos. 3, 4, 5, 7 and 9 are the general conditions of the +Byzantine spur; 8 is a very rare form of plan in Byzantine +work, but proved to be so by its rude level profile; while 7, +on the contrary, Byzantine in plan, is eminently Gothic in the +profile. 9 to 12 are from formed Gothic buildings, equally +refined in their profile and plan.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. The character of the profile is indeed much altered +by the accidental nature of the surface decoration; but the +importance of the broad difference between the raised and flat +profile will be felt on glancing at the examples 1 to 6 in <a href="#plate_12">Plate +XII.</a> The three upper examples are the Romanesque types, +which occur as parallels with the Byzantine types, 1 to 3 of +<a href="#plate_11">Plate XI.</a> Their plans would be nearly the same; but instead +of resembling flat leaves, they are literally spurs, or claws, as +high as they are broad; and the third, from St. Michele of +Pavia, appears to be intended to have its resemblance to a +claw enforced by the transverse fillet. 1 is from St. Ambrogio, +Milan; 2 from Vienne, France. The 4th type, <a href="#plate_12">Plate XII.</a>, +almost like the extremity of a man’s foot, is a Byzantine form +(perhaps worn on the edges), from the nave of St. Mark’s; +and the two next show the unity of the two principles, forming +the perfect Italian Gothic types,—5, from tomb of Can +Signorio della Scala, Verona; 6, from San Stefano, Venice +(the base 11 of <a href="#plate_11">Plate XI.</a>, in perspective). The two other +bases, 10 and 12 of <a href="#plate_11">Plate XI.</a>, are conditions of the same kind, +showing the varieties of rise and fall in exquisite modulation; +the 10th, a type more frequent at Verona than Venice, in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page290"></a>290</span> +which the spur profile overlaps the roll, instead of rising out +of it, and seems to hold it down, as if it were a ring held by +sockets. This is a character found both in early and late work; +a kind of band, or fillet, appears to hold, and even compress, +the <i>centre</i> of the roll in the base of one of the crypt shafts of +St. Peter’s, Oxford, which has also spurs at its angles; and +long bands flow over the base of the angle shaft of the Ducal +Palace of Venice, next the Porta della Carta.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII</span>. When the main contours of the base are once determined, +its decoration is as easy as it is infinite. I have merely +given, in <a href="#plate_12">Plate XII.</a>, three examples to which I shall need to +refer, hereafter. No. 9 is a very early and curious one; the +decoration of the base 6 in <a href="#plate_11">Plate XI.</a>, representing a leaf turned +over and flattened down; or, rather, the idea of the turned +leaf, worked as well as could be imagined on the flat contour +of the spur. Then 10 is the perfect, but simplest possible +development of the same idea, from the earliest bases of the +upper colonnade of the Ducal Palace, that is to say, the bases +of the sea façade; and 7 and 8 are its lateral profile and transverse +section. Finally, 11 and 12 are two of the spurs of the +later shafts of the same colonnade on the Piazzetta side (No. +12 of <a href="#plate_11">Plate XI.</a>). No. 11 occurs on one of these shafts only, +and is singularly beautiful. I suspect it to be earlier than the +other, which is the characteristic base of the rest of the series, +and already shows the loose, sensual, ungoverned character of +fifteenth century ornament in the dissoluteness of its rolling.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII</span>. I merely give these as examples ready to my hand, +and necessary for future reference; not as in anywise representative +of the variety of the Italian treatment of the general +contour, far less of the endless caprices of the North. The +most beautiful base I ever saw, on the whole, is a Byzantine +one in the Baptistery of St. Mark’s, in which the spur profile +approximates to that of No. 10 in <a href="#plate_11">Plate XI.</a>; but it is formed +by a cherub, who sweeps downwards on the wing. His two +wings, as they half close, form the upper part of the spur, +and the rise of it in the front is formed by exactly the action +of Alichino, swooping on the pitch lake: “quei drizzo, volando, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page291"></a>291</span> +suso il petto.” But it requires noble management to confine +such a fancy within such limits. The greater number of the +best bases are formed of leaves; and the reader may amuse +himself as he will by endless inventions of them, from types +which he may gather among the weeds at the nearest roadside. +The value of the vegetable form is especially here, as above +noted, <a href="#chap_20">Chap. XX.</a>, § <span class="scs">XXXII</span>., its capability of unity with the +mass of the base, and of being suggested by few lines; none +but the Northern Gothic architects are able to introduce entire +animal forms in this position with perfect success. There is a +beautiful instance at the north door of the west front of Rouen; +a lizard pausing and curling himself round a little in the angle; +one expects him the next instant to lash round the shaft and +vanish: and we may with advantage compare this base with +those of Renaissance Scuola di San Rocca<a name="FnAnchor_79" href="#Footnote_79"><span class="sp">79</span></a> at Venice, in +which the architect, imitating the mediæval bases, which he +did not understand, has put an elephant, four inches higher, +in the same position.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIX</span>. I have not in this chapter spoken at all of the profiles +which are given in Northern architecture to the projections +of the lower members of the base, <i>b</i> and <i>c</i> in Fig. II., nor of +the methods in which both these, and the rolls of the mouldings +in <a href="#plate_10">Plate X.</a>, are decorated, especially in Roman architecture, +with superadded chain work or chasing of various patterns. +Of the first I have not spoken, because I shall have no occasion +to allude to them in the following essay; nor of the second, +because I consider them barbarisms. Decorated rolls and decorated +ogee profiles, such, for instance, as the base of the Arc +de l’Etoile at Paris, are among the richest and farthest refinements +of decorative appliances; and they ought always to be +reserved for jambs, cornices, and archivolts: if you begin with +them in the base, you have no power of refining your decorations +as you ascend, and, which is still worse, you put your +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page292"></a>292</span> +most delicate work on the jutting portions of the foundation,—the +very portions which are most exposed to abrasion. The +best expression of a base is that of stern endurance,—the look +of being able to bear roughing; or, if the whole building is so +delicate that no one can be expected to treat even its base with +unkindness,<a name="FnAnchor_80" href="#Footnote_80"><span class="sp">80</span></a> then at least the expression of quiet, prefatory +simplicity. The angle spur may receive such decoration as we +have seen, because it is one of the most important features in +the whole building; and the eye is always so attracted to it +that it cannot be in rich architecture left altogether blank; +the eye is stayed upon it by its position, but glides, and ought +to glide, along the basic rolls to take measurement of their +length: and even with all this added fitness, the ornament of +the basic spur is best, in the long run, when it is boldest and +simplest. The base above described, § <span class="scs">XVIII</span>., as the most beautiful +I ever saw, was not for that reason the best I ever saw: +beautiful in its place, in a quiet corner of a Baptistery sheeted +with jasper and alabaster, it would have been utterly wrong, +nay, even offensive, if used in sterner work, or repeated along +a whole colonnade. The base No. 10 of <a href="#plate_12">Plate XII.</a> is the +richest with which I was ever perfectly satisfied for general +service; and the basic spurs of the building which I have +named as the best Gothic monument in the world (<a href="#page141">p. 141</a>), +have no ornament upon them whatever. The adaptation, +therefore, of rich cornice and roll mouldings to the level and +ordinary lines of bases, whether of walls or shafts, I hold to be +one of the worst barbarisms which the Roman and Renaissance +architects ever committed; and that nothing can afterwards +redeem the effeminacy and vulgarity of the buildings in which +it prominently takes place.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XX</span>. I have also passed over, without present notice, the +fantastic bases formed by couchant animals, which sustain +many Lombardic shafts. The pillars they support have independent +bases of the ordinary kind; and the animal form +beneath is less to be considered as a true base (though often +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page293"></a>293</span> +exquisitely combined with it, as in the shaft on the south-west +angle of the cathedral of Genoa) than as a piece of sculpture, +otherwise necessary to the nobility of the building, and deriving +its value from its special positive fulfilment of expressional +purposes, with which we have here no concern. As the embodiment +of a wild superstition, and the representation of +supernatural powers, their appeal to the imagination sets at +utter defiance all judgment based on ordinary canons of law; +and the magnificence of their treatment atones, in nearly every +case, for the extravagance of their conception. I should not +admit this appeal to the imagination, if it had been made by a +nation in whom the powers of body and mind had been languid; +but by the Lombard, strong in all the realities of human life, +we need not fear being led astray: the visions of a distempered +fancy are not indeed permitted to replace the truth, or set +aside the laws of science: but the imagination which is +thoroughly under the command of the intelligent will,<a name="FnAnchor_81" href="#Footnote_81"><span class="sp">81</span></a> has a +dominion indiscernible by science, and illimitable by law; and +we may acknowledge the authority of the Lombardic gryphons +in the mere splendor of their presence, without thinking idolatry +an excuse for mechanical misconstruction, or dreading to +be called upon, in other cases, to admire a systemless architecture, +because it may happen to have sprung from an irrational +religion.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_78" href="#FnAnchor_78"><span class="fn">78</span></a> Another most important reason for the peculiar sufficiency and value +of this base, especially as opposed to the bulging forms of the single or +double roll, without the cavetto, has been suggested by the writer of the +Essay on the Æsthetics of Gothic Architecture in the British Quarterly for +August, 1849:—“The Attic base <i>recedes</i> at the point where, if it suffered +from superincumbent weight, it would bulge out.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_79" href="#FnAnchor_79"><span class="fn">79</span></a> I have put in <a href="#app_24">Appendix 24</a>, “Renaissance Bases,” my memorandum +written respecting this building on the spot. But the reader had better +delay referring to it, until we have completed our examination of ornaments +in shafts and capitals.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_80" href="#FnAnchor_80"><span class="fn">80</span></a> <a href="#app_25">Appendix 25</a>, “Romanist Decoration of Bases.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_81" href="#FnAnchor_81"><span class="fn">81</span></a> In all the wildness of the Lombardic fancy (described in <a href="#app_8">Appendix 8</a>), +this command of the will over its action is as distinct as it is stern. The +fancy is, in the early work of the nation, visibly diseased; but never the +will, nor the reason.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page294"></a>294</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_26"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h3> + +<h5>THE WALL VEIL AND SHAFT.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">No</span> subject has been more open ground of dispute +among architects than the decoration of the wall veil, because +no decoration appeared naturally to grow out of its construction; +nor could any curvatures be given to its surface large +enough to produce much impression on the eye. It has become, +therefore, a kind of general field for experiments of various +effects of surface ornament, or has been altogether abandoned +to the mosaicist and fresco painter. But we may perhaps +conclude, from what was advanced in the Fifth Chapter, that +there is one kind of decoration which will, indeed, naturally +follow on its construction. For it is perfectly natural that the +different kinds of stone used in its successive courses should +be of different colors; and there are many associations and +analogies which metaphysically justify the introduction of +horizontal bands of color, or of light and shade. They are, in +the first place, a kind of expression of the growth or age of +the wall, like the rings in the wood of a tree; then they are a +farther symbol of the alternation of light and darkness, which +was above noted as the source of the charm of many inferior +mouldings: again, they are valuable as an expression of horizontal +space to the imagination, space of which the conception +is opposed, and gives more effect by its opposition, to the +enclosing power of the wall itself (this I spoke of as probably +the great charm of these horizontal bars to the Arabian mind): +and again they are valuable in their suggestion of the natural +courses of rocks, and beds of the earth itself. And to all these +powerful imaginative reasons we have to add the merely ocular +charm of interlineal opposition of color; a charm so great, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page295"></a>295</span> +that all the best colorists, without a single exception, depend +upon it for the most piquant of their pictorial effects, some +vigorous mass of alternate stripes or bars of color being made +central in all their richest arrangements. The whole system of +Tintoret’s great picture of the Miracle of St. Mark is poised +on the bars of blue, which cross the white turban of the +executioner.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">XIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_13" id="plate_13"><img src="images/img295.jpg" width="650" height="402" alt="WALL VEIL DECORATIONS." title="WALL VEIL DECORATIONS." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">WALL VEIL DECORATIONS.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. There are, therefore, no ornaments more deeply suggestive +in their simplicity than these alternate bars of horizontal +colors; nor do I know any buildings more noble than those +of the Pisan Romanesque, in which they are habitually employed; +and certainly none so graceful, so attractive, so enduringly +delightful in their nobleness. Yet, of this pure and +graceful ornamentation, Professor Willis says, “a practice more +destructive of architectural grandeur can hardly be conceived:” +and modern architects have substituted for it the ingenious ornament +of which the reader has had one specimen above, <a href="#fig_3">Fig. +III.</a>, <a href="#page061">p. 61</a>, and with which half the large buildings in London +are disfigured, or else traversed by mere straight lines, as, for +instance, the back of the Bank. The lines on the Bank may, +perhaps, be considered typical of accounts; but in general the +walls, if left destitute of them, would have been as much +fairer than the walls charged with them, as a sheet of white +paper is than the leaf of a ledger. But that the reader may +have free liberty of judgment in this matter, I place two examples +of the old and the Renaissance ornament side by side +on the opposite page. That on the right is Romanesque, from +St. Pietro of Pistoja; that on the left, modern English, from +the Arthur Club-house, St. James’s Street.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. But why, it will be asked, should the lines which mark +the division of the stones be wrong when they are chiselled, +and right when they are marked by color? First, because +the color separation is a natural one. You build with different +kinds of stone, of which, probably, one is more costly than +another; which latter, as you cannot construct your building +of it entirely, you arrange in conspicuous bars. But the chiselling +of the stones is a wilful throwing away of time and labor +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page296"></a>296</span> +in defacing the building: it costs much to hew one of those +monstrous blocks into shape; and, when it is done, the building +is <i>weaker</i> than it was before, by just as much stone as has +been cut away from its joints. And, secondly, because, as I +have repeatedly urged, straight lines are ugly things as <i>lines</i>, +but admirable as limits of colored spaces; and the joints of the +stones, which are painful in proportion to their regularity, if +drawn as lines, are perfectly agreeable when marked by variations +of hue.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. What is true of the divisions of stone by chiselling, +is equally true of divisions of bricks by pointing. Nor, of +course, is the mere horizontal bar the only arrangement in +which the colors of brickwork or masonry can be gracefully +disposed. It is rather one which can only be employed with +advantage when the courses of stone are deep and bold. When +the masonry is small, it is better to throw its colors into chequered +patterns. We shall have several interesting examples +to study in Venice besides the well-known one of the Ducal +Palace. The town of Moulins, in France, is one of the most +remarkable on this side the Alps for its chequered patterns in +bricks. The church of Christchurch, Streatham, lately built, +though spoiled by many grievous errors (the iron work in +the campanile being the grossest), yet affords the inhabitants +of the district a means of obtaining some idea of the variety +of effects which are possible with no other material than +brick.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. We have yet to notice another effort of the Renaissance +architects to adorn the blank spaces of their walls by +what is called Rustication. There is sometimes an obscure +trace of the remains of the imitation of something organic in +this kind of work. In some of the better French eighteenth +century buildings it has a distinctly floral character, like a final +degradation of Flamboyant leafage; and some of our modern +English architects appear to have taken the decayed teeth of +elephants for their type; but, for the most part, it resembles +nothing so much as worm casts; nor these with any precision. +If it did, it would not bring it within the sphere of our properly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page297"></a>297</span> +imitative ornamentation. I thought it unnecessary to +warn the reader that he was not to copy forms of refuse or +corruption; and that, while he might legitimately take the +worm or the reptile for a subject of imitation, he was not to +study the worm cast or coprolite.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. It is, however, I believe, sometimes supposed that rustication +gives an appearance of solidity to foundation stones. +Not so; at least to any one who knows the look of a hard +stone. You may, by rustication, make your good marble or +granite look like wet slime, honeycombed by sand-eels, or like +half-baked tufo covered with slow exudation of stalactite, or +like rotten claystone coated with concretions of its own mud; +but not like the stones of which the hard world is built. Do +not think that nature rusticates her foundations. Smooth +sheets of rock, glistening like sea waves, and that ring under +the hammer like a brazen bell,—that is her preparation for +first stories. She does rusticate sometimes: crumbly sand-stones, +with their ripple-marks filled with red mud; dusty lime-stones, +which the rains wash into labyrinthine cavities; spongy +lavas, which the volcano blast drags hither and thither into +ropy coils and bubbling hollows;—these she rusticates, indeed, +when she wants to make oyster-shells and magnesia of them; +but not when she needs to lay foundations with them. Then she +seeks the polished surface and iron heart, not rough looks and +incoherent substance.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. Of the richer modes of wall decoration it is impossible +to institute any general comparison; they are quite infinite, +from mere inlaid geometrical figures up to incrustations +of elaborate bas-relief. The architect has perhaps more license +in them, and more power of producing good effect with rude +design than in any other features of the building; the chequer +and hatchet work of the Normans and the rude bas-reliefs of +the Lombards being almost as satisfactory as the delicate panelling +and mosaic of the Duomo of Florence. But this is to +be noted of all good wall ornament, that it retains the expression +of firm and massive substance, and of broad surface, and +that architecture instantly declined when linear design was substituted +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page298"></a>298</span> +for massive, and the sense of weight of wall was lost +in a wilderness of upright or undulating rods. Of the richest +and most delicate wall veil decoration by inlaid work, as +practised in Italy from the twelfth to the fifteenth century, I +have given the reader two characteristic examples in Plates <a href="#plate_20">XX.</a> +and <a href="#plate_21">XXI.</a></p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LXI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_61"><img src="images/img298a.jpg" width="350" height="162" alt="Fig. LXI." title="Fig. LXI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. There are, however, three spaces in which the wall +veil, peculiarly limited in shape, was always felt to be fitted +for surface decoration of the most elaborate kind; and in these +spaces are found the most majestic instances of its treatment, +even to late periods. One +of these is the spandril +space, or the filling between +any two arches, +commonly of the shape +<i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_61">Fig. LXI.</a>; the half +of which, or the flank +filling of any arch, is +called a spandril. In +Chapter XVII., on Filling of Apertures, the reader will find +another of these spaces noted, called the tympanum, and commonly +of the form <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_61">Fig. LXI.</a>: and finally, in Chapter +XVIII., he will find the third space described, that between +an arch and its protecting gable, approximating generally to +the form <i>c</i>, <a href="#fig_61">Fig. LXI.</a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. The methods of treating these spaces might alone +furnish subject for three very interesting essays; but I shall +only note the most essential points respecting them.</p> + +<p>(1.) The Spandril. It was observed in Chapter XII., that +this portion of the arch load might frequently be lightened +with great advantage by piercing it with a circle, or with a +group of circles; and the roof of the Euston Square railroad +station was adduced as an example. One of the spandril +decorations of Bayeux Cathedral is given in the “Seven +Lamps,” <a href="#plate_7">Plate VII.</a> fig. 4. It is little more than one of these +Euston Square spandrils, with its circles foliated.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">XIV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_14"><img src="images/img298b.jpg" width="650" height="373" alt="SPANDRIL DECORATION." title="SPANDRIL DECORATION." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">SPANDRIL DECORATION.<br /> + <span class="f80">THE DUCAL PALACE.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>Sometimes the circle is entirely pierced; at other times it +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page299"></a>299</span> +is merely suggested by a mosaic or light tracery on the wall +surface, as in the plate opposite, which is one of the spandrils +of the Ducal Palace at Venice. It was evidently intended +that all the spandrils of this building should be decorated in +this manner, but only two of them seem to have been completed.<a name="FnAnchor_82" href="#Footnote_82"><span class="sp">82</span></a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. The other modes of spandril filling may be broadly +reduced to four heads. 1. Free figure sculpture, as in the +Chapter-house of Salisbury, and very superbly along the west +front of Bourges, the best Gothic spandrils I know. 2. Radiated +foliage, more or less referred to the centre, or to the bottom +of the spandril for its origin; single figures with expanded +wings often answering the same purpose. 3. Trefoils; and 4, +ordinary wall decoration continued into the spandril space, as +in <a href="#plate_13">Plate XIII.</a>, above, from St. Pietro at Pistoja, and in Westminster +Abbey. The Renaissance architects introduced spandril +fillings composed of colossal human figures reclining on +the sides of the arch, in precarious lassitude; but these cannot +come under the head of wall veil decoration.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. (2.) The Tympanum. It was noted that, in Gothic +architecture, this is for the most part a detached slab of stone, +having no constructional relation to the rest of the building. +The plan of its sculpture is therefore quite arbitrary; and, as +it is generally in a conspicuous position, near the eye, and +above the entrance, it is almost always charged with a series of +rich figure sculptures, solemn in feeling and consecutive in +subject. It occupies in Christian sacred edifices very nearly +the position of the pediment in Greek sculpture. This latter +is itself a kind of tympanum, and charged with sculpture in +the same manner.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. (3.) The Gable. The same principles apply to it +which have been noted respecting the spandril, with one more +of some importance. The chief difficulty in treating a gable +lies in the excessive sharpness of its upper point. It may, indeed, +on its outside apex, receive a finial; but the meeting +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page300"></a>300</span> +of the inside lines of its terminal mouldings is necessarily both +harsh and conspicuous, unless artificially concealed. The most +beautiful victory I have ever seen obtained over this difficulty +was by placing a sharp shield, its point, as usual, downwards, +at the apex of the gable, which exactly reversed the offensive +lines, yet without actually breaking them; the gable being +completed behind the shield. The same thing is done in the +Northern and Southern Gothic: in the porches of Abbeville +and the tombs of Verona.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. I believe there is little else to be noted of general +laws of ornament respecting the wall veil. We have next to +consider its concentration in the shaft.</p> + +<p>Now the principal beauty of a shaft is its perfect proportion +to its work,—its exact expression of necessary strength. +If this has been truly attained, it will hardly need, in some +cases hardly bear, more decoration than is given to it by its +own rounding and taper curvatures; for, if we cut ornaments +in intaglio on its surface, we weaken it; if we leave them in +relief, we overcharge it, and the sweep of the line from its +base to its summit, though deduced in Chapter VIII., from +necessities of construction, is already one of gradated curvature, +and of high decorative value.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV</span>. It is, however, carefully to be noted, that decorations +are admissible on colossal and on diminutive shafts, which are +wrong upon those of middle size. For, when the shaft is +enormous, incisions or sculpture on its sides (unless colossal +also), do not materially interfere with the sweep of its curve, +nor diminish the efficiency of its sustaining mass. And if it +be diminutive, its sustaining function is comparatively of so +small importance, the injurious results of failure so much less, +and the relative strength and cohesion of its mass so much +greater, that it may be suffered in the extravagance of ornament +or outline which would be unendurable in a shaft of middle +size, and impossible in one of colossal. Thus, the shafts +drawn in <a href="#plate_13">Plate XIII.</a>, of the “Seven Lamps,” though given as +examples of extravagance, are yet pleasing in the general effect +of the arcade they support; being each some six or seven +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page301"></a>301</span> +feet high. But they would have been monstrous, as well as +unsafe, if they had been sixty or seventy.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV</span>. Therefore, to determine the general rule for shaft +decoration, we must ascertain the proportions representative of +the mean bulk of shafts: they might easily be calculated from +a sufficient number of examples, but it may perhaps be assumed, +for our present general purpose, that the mean standard +would be of some twenty feet in height, by eight or nine +in circumference: then this will be the size on which decoration +is most difficult and dangerous: and shafts become more +and more fit subjects for decoration, as they rise farther above, +or fall farther beneath it, until very small and very vast shafts +will both be found to look blank unless they receive some +chasing or imagery; blank, whether they support a chair or +table on the one side, or sustain a village on the ridge of an +Egyptian architrave on the other.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. Of the various ornamentation of colossal shafts, there +are no examples so noble as the Egyptian; these the reader +can study in Mr. Roberts’ work on Egypt nearly as well, I +imagine, as if he were beneath their shadow, one of their chief +merits, as examples of method, being the perfect decision and +visibility of their designs at the necessary distance: contrast +with these the incrustations of bas-relief on the Trajan pillar, +much interfering with the smooth lines of the shaft, and yet +themselves untraceable, if not invisible.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII</span>. On shafts of middle size, the only ornament which +has ever been accepted as right, is the Doric fluting, which, +indeed, gave the effect of a succession of unequal lines of +shade, but lost much of the repose of the cylindrical gradation. +The Corinthian fluting, which is a mean multiplication and +deepening of the Doric, with a square instead of a sharp ridge +between each hollow, destroyed the serenity of the shaft altogether, +and is always rigid and meagre. Both are, in fact, +wrong in principle; they are an elaborate weakening<a name="FnAnchor_83" href="#Footnote_83"><span class="sp">83</span></a> of the +shaft, exactly opposed (as above shown) to the ribbed form, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page302"></a>302</span> +which is the result of a group of shafts bound together, and +which is especially beautiful when special service is given to +each member.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LXII</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_62"><img src="images/img303.jpg" width="150" height="315" alt="Fig. LXII" title="Fig. LXII" /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII</span>. On shafts of inferior size, every species of decoration +may be wisely lavished, and in any quantity, so only that +the form of the shaft be clearly visible. This I hold to be +absolutely essential, and that barbarism begins wherever the +sculpture is either so bossy, or so deeply cut, as to break the +contour of the shaft, or compromise its solidity. Thus, in +<a href="#plate_21">Plate XXI.</a> (<a href="#app_8">Appendix 8</a>), the richly sculptured shaft of the +lower story has lost its dignity and definite function, and become +a shapeless mass, injurious to the symmetry of the building, +though of some value as adding to its imaginative and +fantastic character. Had all the shafts been like it, the +façade would have been entirely spoiled; the inlaid pattern, +on the contrary, which is used on the shortest shaft of the +upper story, adds to its preciousness without interfering with +its purpose, and is every way delightful, as are all the inlaid +shaft ornaments of this noble church (another example of them +is given in <a href="#plate_12">Plate XII.</a> of the “Seven Lamps”). The same +rule would condemn the Caryatid; which I entirely agree +with Mr. Fergusson in thinking (both for this and other reasons) +one of the chief errors of the Greek schools; and, more +decisively still, the Renaissance inventions of shaft ornament, +almost too absurd and too monstrous to be seriously noticed, +which consist in leaving square blocks between the cylinder +joints, as in the portico of No. 1, Regent Street, and many +other buildings in London; or in rusticating portions of the +shafts, or wrapping fleeces about them, as at the entrance of +Burlington House, in Piccadilly; or tying drapery round +them in knots, as in the new buildings above noticed (<a href="#chap_20">Chap. +20</a>, § <span class="scs">VII</span>.), at Paris. But, within the limits thus defined, there +is no feature capable of richer decoration than the shaft; the +most beautiful examples of all I have seen, are the slender +pillars, encrusted with arabesques, which flank the portals of +the Baptistery and Duomo at Pisa, and some others of the +Pisan and Lucchese churches; but the varieties of sculpture +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page303"></a>303</span> +and inlaying, with which the small Romanesque shafts, whether +Italian or Northern, are adorned when they occupy important +positions, are quite endless, and nearly all admirable. Mr. +Digby Wyatt has given a beautiful example of inlaid work so +employed, from the cloisters of the Lateran, in his work on +early mosaic; an example which unites the surface decoration +of the shaft with the adoption of the spiral contour. This +latter is often all the decoration which is needed, and none can +be more beautiful; it has been spoken against, like many other +good and lovely things, because it has been too often used in +extravagant degrees, like the well-known twisting of the pillars +in Raffaelle’s “Beautiful gate.” But that extravagant condition +was a Renaissance barbarism: the old Romanesque builders +kept their spirals slight and pure; often, as in the example +from St. Zeno, in <a href="#plate_17">Plate XVII.</a> below, giving only half a turn +from the base of the shaft to its head, and nearly always observing +what I hold to be an imperative law, that no twisted +shaft shall be single, but composed of at least two distinct +members, twined with each other. I suppose +they followed their own right feeling in doing +this, and had never studied natural shafts; +but the type they <i>might</i> have followed was +caught by one of the few great painters who +were not affected by the evil influence of the +fifteenth century, Benozzo Gozzoli, who, in +the frescoes of the Ricardi Palace, among +stems of trees for the most part as vertical as +stone shafts, has suddenly introduced one of +the shape given in <a href="#fig_62">Fig. LXII.</a> Many forest +trees present, in their accidental contortions, +types of most complicated spiral shafts, the +plan being originally of a grouped shaft rising from several +roots; nor, indeed, will the reader ever find models for every +kind of shaft decoration, so graceful or so gorgeous, as he will +find in the great forest aisle, where the strength of the earth +itself seems to rise from the roots into the vaulting; but the +shaft surface, barred as it expands with rings of ebony and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page304"></a>304</span> +silver, is fretted with traceries of ivy, marbled with purple +moss, veined with grey lichen, and tesselated, by the rays of +the rolling heaven, with flitting fancies of blue shadow and +burning gold.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_82" href="#FnAnchor_82"><span class="fn">82</span></a> Vide end of <a href="#app_20">Appendix 20</a>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_83" href="#FnAnchor_83"><span class="fn">83</span></a> Vide, however, their defence in the Essay above quoted, <a href="#page251">p. 251</a>.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page305"></a>305</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_27" id="chap_27"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3> + +<h5>THE CORNICE AND CAPITAL.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">There</span> are no features to which the attention of architects +has been more laboriously directed, in all ages, than these +crowning members of the wall and shaft; and it would be vain +to endeavor, within any moderate limits, to give the reader any +idea of the various kinds of admirable decoration which have +been invented for them. But, in proportion to the effort and +straining of the fancy, have been the extravagances into which +it has occasionally fallen; and while it is utterly impossible +severally to enumerate the instances either of its success or its +error, it is very possible to note the limits of the one and the +causes of the other. This is all that we shall attempt in the +present chapter, tracing first for ourselves, as in previous instances, +the natural channels by which invention is here to be +directed or confined, and afterwards remarking the places +where, in real practice, it has broken bounds.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. The reader remembers, I hope, the main points respecting +the cornice and capital, established above in the +Chapters on Construction. Of these I must, however, recapitulate +thus much:—</p> + +<p>1. That both the cornice and capital are, with reference to +the <i>slope</i> of their profile or bell, to be divided into two great +orders; in one of which the ornament is convex, and in the +other concave. (Ch. VI., § v.)</p> + +<p>2. That the capital, with reference to the method of twisting +the cornice round to construct it, and to unite the circular +shaft with the square abacus, falls into five general forms, represented +in <a href="#fig_22">Fig. XXII.</a>, <a href="#page119">p. 119</a>.</p> + +<p>3. That the most elaborate capitals were formed by true or +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page306"></a>306</span> +simple capitals with a common cornice added above their abacus. +(Ch. IX., § <span class="scs">XXIV</span>.)</p> + +<p>We have then, in considering decoration, first to observe +the treatment of the two great orders of the cornice; then their +gathering into the five of the capital; then the addition of the +secondary cornice to the capital when formed.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. The two great orders or families of cornice were above +distinguished in <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a>, <a href="#page069">p. 69</a>.; and it was mentioned in the +same place that a third family arose from their combination. +We must deal with the two great opposed groups first.</p> + +<p>They were distinguished in <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a> by circular curves +drawn on opposite sides of the same line. But we now know +that in these smaller features the circle is usually the least interesting +curve that we can use; and that it will be well, since +the capital and cornice are both active in their expression, to +use some of the more abstract natural lines. We will go back, +therefore, to our old friend the salvia leaf; and taking the +same piece of it we had before, <i>x y</i>, <a href="#plate_7">Plate VII.</a>, we will apply it +to the cornice line; first within it, giving the concave cornice, +then without, giving the convex cornice. In all the figures, +<i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>c</i>, <i>d</i>, <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a>, the dotted line is at the same slope, and +represents an average profile of the root of cornices (<i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a>, +<a href="#page069">p. 69</a>); the curve of the salvia leaf is applied to it in each case, +first with its roundest curvature up, then with its roundest +curvature down; and we have thus the two varieties, <i>a</i> and <i>b</i>, +of the concave family, and <i>c</i> and <i>d</i>, of the convex family.</p> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">XV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_15"><img src="images/img306.jpg" width="384" height="650" alt="CORNICE PROFILES." title="CORNICE PROFILES." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">CORNICE PROFILES.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. These four profiles will represent all the simple cornices +in the world; represent them, I mean, as central types: +for in any of the profiles an infinite number of slopes may be +given to the dotted line of the root (which in these four figures +is always at the same angle); and on each of these innumerable +slopes an innumerable variety of curves may be fitted, +from every leaf in the forest, and every shell on the shore, and +every movement of the human fingers and fancy; therefore, if +the reader wishes to obtain something like a numerical representation +of the number of possible and beautiful cornices +which may be based upon these four types or roots, and among +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page307"></a>307</span> +which the architect has leave to choose according to the circumstances +of his building and the method of its composition, +let him set down a figure 1 to begin with, and write ciphers +after it as fast as he can, without stopping, for an hour.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V.</span> None of the types are, however, found in perfection +of curvature, except in the best work. Very often cornices +are worked with circular segments (with a noble, massive effect, +for instance, in St. Michele of Lucca), or with rude approximation +to finer curvature, especially <i>a</i>, <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a>, which occurs +often so small as to render it useless to take much pains +upon its curve. It occurs perfectly pure in the condition represented +by 1 of the series 1-6, in <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a>, on many of the +Byzantine and early Gothic buildings of Venice; in more +developed form it becomes the profile of the bell of the capital +in the later Venetian Gothic, and in much of the best Northern +Gothic. It also represents the Corinthian capital, in which +the curvature is taken from the bell to be added in some excess +to the nodding leaves. It is the most graceful of all simple +profiles of cornice and capital.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI.</span> <i>b</i> is a much rarer and less manageable type: for this +evident reason, that while <i>a</i> is the natural condition of a line +rooted and strong beneath, but bent out by superincumbent +weight, or nodding over in freedom, <i>b</i> is yielding at the base +and rigid at the summit. It has, however, some exquisite uses, +especially in combination, as the reader may see by glancing +in advance at the inner line of the profile 14 in <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII.</span> <i>c</i> is the leading convex or Doric type, as <i>a</i> is the +leading concave or Corinthian. Its relation to the best Greek +Doric is exactly what the relation of <i>a</i> is to the Corinthian; +that is to say, the curvature must be taken from the straighter +limb of the curve and added to the bolder bend, giving it a +sudden turn inwards (as in the Corinthian a nod outwards), +as the reader may see in the capital of the Parthenon in the +British Museum, where the lower limb of the curve is <i>all but</i> +a right line.<a name="FnAnchor_84" href="#Footnote_84"><span class="sp">84</span></a> But these Doric and Corinthian lines are mere +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page308"></a>308</span> +varieties of the great families which are represented by the +central lines <i>a</i> and <i>c</i>, including not only the Doric capital, but +all the small cornices formed by a slight increase of the curve +of <i>c</i>, which are of so frequent occurrence in Greek ornaments.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII.</span> <i>d</i> is the Christian Doric, which I said (Chap. I., § <span class="scs">XX</span>.) +was invented to replace the antique: it is the representative +of the great Byzantine and Norman families of convex cornice +and capital, and, next to the profile <i>a</i>, the most important of +the four, being the best profile for the convex capital, as <i>a</i> is +for the concave; <i>a</i> being the best expression of an elastic line +inserted vertically in the shaft, and <i>d</i> of an elastic line inserted +horizontally and rising to meet vertical pressure.</p> + +<p>If the reader will glance at the arrangements of boughs of +trees, he will find them commonly dividing into these two +families, <i>a</i> and <i>d</i>: they rise out of the trunk and nod from it +as <i>a</i>, or they spring with sudden curvature out from it, and +rise into sympathy with it, as at <i>d</i>; but they only accidentally +display tendencies to the lines <i>b</i> or <i>c</i>. Boughs which fall as +they spring from the tree also describe the curve <i>d</i> in the +plurality of instances, but reversed in arrangement; their junction +with the stem being at the top of it, their sprays bending +out into rounder curvature.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX.</span> These then being the two primal groups, we have +next to note the combined group, formed by the concave and +convex lines joined in various proportions of curvature, so as +to form together the reversed or ogee curve, represented in +one of its most beautiful states by the glacier line <i>a</i>, on <a href="#plate_7">Plate +VII.</a> I would rather have taken this line than any other to +have formed my third group of cornices by, but as it is too +large, and almost too delicate, we will take instead that of the +Matterhorn side, <i>e f</i>, <a href="#plate_7">Plate VII.</a> For uniformity’s sake I keep +the slope of the dotted line the same as in the primal forms; +and applying this Matterhorn curve in its four relative positions +to that line, I have the types of the four cornices or capitals +of the third family, <i>e</i>, <i>f</i>, <i>g</i>, <i>h</i>, on <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a></p> + +<p>These are, however, general types only thus far, that their +line is composed of one short and one long curve, and that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page309"></a>309</span> +they represent the four conditions of treatment of every such +line; namely, the longest curve concave in <i>e</i> and <i>f</i>, and convex +in <i>g</i> and <i>h</i>; and the point of contrary flexure set high in <i>e</i> +and <i>g</i>, and low in <i>f</i> and <i>h</i>. The relative depth of the arcs, or +nature of their curvature, cannot be taken into consideration +without a complexity of system which my space does not +admit.</p> + +<p>Of the four types thus constituted, <i>e</i> and <i>f</i> are of great importance; +the other two are rarely used, having an appearance +of weakness in consequence of the shortest curve being concave: +the profiles <i>e</i> and <i>f</i>, when used for cornices, have usually +a fuller sweep and somewhat greater equality between the +branches of the curve; but those here given are better representatives +of the structure applicable to capitals and cornices +indifferently.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X.</span> Very often, in the farther treatment of the profiles <i>e</i> +or <i>f</i>, another limb is added to their curve in order to join it to +the upper or lower members of the cornice or capital. I do +not consider this addition as forming another family of cornices, +because the leading and effective part of the curve is in +these, as in the others, the single ogee; and the added bend is +merely a less abrupt termination of it above or below: still this +group is of so great importance in the richer kinds of ornamentation +that we must have it sufficiently represented. We +shall obtain a type of it by merely continuing the line of the +Matterhorn side, of which before we took only a fragment. +The entire line <i>e</i> to <i>g</i> on <a href="#plate_7">Plate VII.</a>, is evidently composed of +three curves of unequal lengths, which if we call the shortest +1, the intermediate one 2, and the longest 3, are there arranged +in the order 1, 3, 2, counting upwards. But evidently we might +also have had the arrangements 1, 2, 3, and 2, 1, 3, giving us +three distinct lines, altogether independent of position, which +being applied to one general dotted slope will each give four +cornices, or twelve altogether. Of these the six most important +are those which have the shortest curve convex: they are +given in light relief from <i>k</i> to <i>p</i>, <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a>, and, by turning +the page upside down, the other six will be seen in dark relief, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page310"></a>310</span> +only the little upright bits of shadow at the bottom are +not to be considered as parts of them, being only admitted in +order to give the complete profile of the more important cornices +in light.</p> + +<p class="mb">§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. In these types, as in <i>e</i> and <i>f</i>, the only general condition +is, that their line shall be composed of three curves of different +lengths and different arrangements (the depth of arcs +and radius of curvatures being unconsidered). They are arranged +in three couples, each couple being two positions of the +same entire line; so that numbering the component curves +in order of magnitude and counting upwards, they will read—</p> + +<table class="nobctr" summary="data"> +<tr><td> +<p><i>k</i></p> +<p><i>l</i></p> +<p><i>m</i></p> +<p><i>n</i></p> +<p><i>o</i></p> +<p><i>p</i></p></td> + +<td> +<p>1, 2, 3,</p> +<p>3, 2, 1,</p> +<p>1, 3, 2,</p> +<p>2, 3, 1,</p> +<p>2, 1, 3,</p> +<p>3, 1, 2.</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="mt"><i>m</i> and <i>n</i>, which are the <i>Matterhorn line</i>, are the most beautiful +and important of all the twelve; <i>k</i> and <i>l</i> the next; <i>o</i> and +<i>p</i> are used only for certain conditions of flower carving on +the surface. The reverses (dark) of <i>k</i> and <i>l</i> are also of +considerable service; the other four hardly ever used in good +work.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. If we were to add a fourth curve to the component +series, we should have forty-eight more cornices: but +there is no use in pursuing the system further, as such arrangements +are very rare and easily resolved into the simpler +types with certain arbitrary additions fitted to their special +place; and, in most cases, distinctly separate from the main +curve, as in the inner line of No. 14, which is a form of the +type <i>e</i>, the longest curve, <i>i.e.</i>, the lowest, having deepest curvature, +and each limb opposed by a short contrary curve at its +extremities, the convex limb by a concave, the concave by a +convex.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. Such, then, are the great families of profile lines +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page311"></a>311</span> +into which all cornices and capitals may be divided; but their +best examples unite two such profiles in a mode which we +cannot understand till we consider the further ornament +with which the profiles are charged. And in doing this we +must, for the sake of clearness, consider, first the nature +of the designs themselves, and next the mode of cutting +them.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">XVI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_16" id="plate_16"><img src="images/img311.jpg" width="407" height="650" alt="CORNICE DECORATION." title="CORNICE DECORATION." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">CORNICE DECORATION.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV.</span> In <a href="#plate_16">Plate XVI.</a>, opposite, I have thrown together a +few of the most characteristic mediæval examples of the treatment +of the simplest cornice profiles: the uppermost, <i>a</i>, is the +pure root of cornices from St. Mark’s. The second, <i>d</i>, is the +Christian Doric cornice, here lettered <i>d</i> in order to avoid confusion, +its profile being <i>d</i> of <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a> in bold development, +and here seen on the left-hand side, truly drawn, though filled +up with the ornament to show the mode in which the angle +is turned. This is also from St. Mark’s. The third, <i>b</i>, is <i>b</i> +of <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a>, the pattern being inlaid in black because its office +was in the interior of St. Mark’s, where it was too dark to see +sculptured ornament at the required distance. (The other two +simple profiles, <i>a</i> and <i>c</i> of <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a>, would be decorated in +the same manner, but require no example here, for the profile +<i>a</i> is of so frequent occurrence that it will have a page to itself +alone in the next volume; and c may be seen over nearly every +shop in London, being that of the common Greek egg cornice.) +The fourth, <i>e</i> in <a href="#plate_16">Plate XVI.</a>, is a transitional cornice, passing +from Byzantine into Venetian Gothic: <i>f</i> is a fully developed +Venetian Gothic cornice founded on Byzantine traditions; and +<i>g</i> the perfect Lombardic-Gothic cornice, founded on the Pisan +Romanesque traditions, and strongly marked with the noblest +Northern element, the Lombardic vitality restrained by classical +models. I consider it a perfect cornice, and of the highest +order.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV.</span> Now in the design of this series of ornaments there +are two main points to be noted; the first, that they all, except +<i>b</i>, are distinctly rooted in the lower part of the cornice, and +spring to the top. This arrangement is constant in all the best +cornices and capitals; and it is essential to the expression of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page312"></a>312</span> +the supporting power of both. It is exactly opposed to the +system of <i>running</i> cornices and <i>banded</i><a name="FnAnchor_85" href="#Footnote_85"><span class="sp">85</span></a> capitals, in which +the ornament flows along them horizontally, or is twined round +them, as the mouldings are in the early English capital, and the +foliage in many decorated ones. Such cornices have arisen +from a mistaken appliance of the running ornaments, which +are proper to archivolts, jambs, &c., to the features which have +definite functions of support. A tendril may nobly follow the +outline of an arch, but must not creep along a cornice, nor +swathe or bandage a capital; it is essential to the expression of +these features that their ornament should have an elastic and +upward spring; and as the proper profile for the curve is that +of a tree bough, as we saw above, so the proper arrangement +of its farther ornament is that which best expresses rooted and +ascendant strength like that of foliage.</p> + +<p>There are certain very interesting exceptions to the rule (we +shall see a curious one presently); and in the carrying out of +the rule itself, we may see constant licenses taken by the great +designers, and momentary violations of it, like those above +spoken of, respecting other ornamental laws—violations which +are for our refreshment, and for increase of delight in the +general observance; and this is one of the peculiar beauties +of the cornice <i>g</i>, which, rooting itself in strong central clusters, +suffers some of its leaves to fall languidly aside, as the drooping +outer leaves of a natural cluster do so often; but at the +very instant that it does this, in order that it may not lose any +of its expression of strength, a fruit-stalk is thrown up above +the languid leaves, absolutely vertical, as much stiffer and +stronger than the rest of the plant as the falling leaves are +weaker. Cover this with your finger, and the cornice falls to +pieces, like a bouquet which has been untied.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI</span>. There are some instances in which, though the real +arrangement is that of a running stem, throwing off leaves up +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page313"></a>313</span> +and down, the positions of the leaves give nearly as much +elasticity and organisation to the cornice, as if they had been +rightly rooted; and others, like <i>b</i>, where the reversed portion +of the ornament is lost in the shade, and the general expression +of strength is got by the lower member. This cornice will, +nevertheless, be felt at once to be inferior to the rest; and +though we may often be called upon to admire designs of +these kinds, which would have been exquisite if not thus misplaced, +the reader will find that they are both of rare occurrence, +and significative of declining style; while the greater +mass of the banded capitals are heavy and valueless, mere +aggregations of confused sculpture, swathed round the extremity +of the shaft, as if she had dipped it into a mass of melted +ornament, as the glass-blower does his blow-pipe into the +metal, and brought up a quantity adhering glutinously to its +extremity. We have many capitals of this kind in England: +some of the worst and heaviest in the choir of York. The +later capitals of the Italian Gothic have the same kind of effect, +but owing to another cause: for their structure is quite pure, +and based on the Corinthian type: and it is the branching +form of the heads of the leaves which destroys the effect of +their organisation. On the other hand, some of the Italian +cornices which are actually composed by running tendrils, +throwing off leaves into oval interstices, are so massive in their +treatment, and so marked and firm in their vertical and arched +lines, that they are nearly as suggestive of support as if they +had been arranged on the rooted system. A cornice of this +kind is used in St. Michele of Lucca (<a href="#plate_6">Plate VI.</a> in the “Seven +Lamps,” and XXI. here), and with exquisite propriety; for +that cornice is at once a crown to the story beneath it and a +foundation to that which is above it, and therefore unites the +strength and elasticity of the lines proper to the cornice with +the submission and prostration of those proper to the foundation.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII.</span> This, then, is the first point needing general notice +in the designs in <a href="#plate_16">Plate XVI.</a> The second is the difference +between the freedom of the Northern and the sophistication +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page314"></a>314</span> +of the classical cornices, in connection with what has been +advanced in <a href="#app_8">Appendix 8</a>. The cornices, <i>a</i>, <i>d</i>, and <i>b</i>, are of +the same date, but they show a singular difference in the +workman’s temper: that at <i>b</i> is a single copy of a classical +mosaic; and many carved cornices occur, associated with it, +which are, in like manner, mere copies of the Greek and Roman +egg and arrow mouldings. But the cornices <i>a</i> and <i>d</i> are +copies of nothing of the kind: the idea of them has indeed +been taken from the Greek honeysuckle ornament, but the +chiselling of them is in no wise either Greek, or Byzantine, in +temper. The Byzantines were languid copyists: this work is +as energetic as its original; energetic, not in the quantity of +work, but in the spirit of it: an indolent man, forced into toil, +may cover large spaces with evidence of his feeble action, or +accumulate his dulness into rich aggregation of trouble, but it +is gathered weariness still. The man who cut those two +uppermost cornices had no time to spare: did as much cornice +as he could in half an hour; but would not endure the slightest +trace of error in a curve, or of bluntness in an edge. His +work is absolutely unreproveable; keen, and true, as Nature’s +own; his entire force is in it, and fixed on seeing that every +line of it shall be sharp and right: the faithful energy is in +him: we shall see something come of that cornice: The fellow +who inlaid the other (<i>b</i>), will stay where he is for ever; and +when he has inlaid one leaf up, will inlay another down,—and +so undulate up and down to all eternity: but the man of <i>a</i> +and <i>d</i> will cut his way forward, or there is no truth in handicrafts, +nor stubbornness in stone.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII.</span> But there is something else noticeable in those two +cornices, besides the energy of them: as opposed either to <i>b</i>, +or the Greek honeysuckle or egg patterns, they are <i>natural</i> +designs. The Greek egg and arrow cornice is a nonsense +cornice, very noble in its lines, but utterly absurd in meaning. +Arrows have had nothing to do with eggs (at least since +Leda’s time), neither are the so-called arrows like arrows, nor +the eggs like eggs, nor the honeysuckles like honeysuckles; +they are all conventionalised into a monotonous successiveness +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page315"></a>315</span> +of nothing,—pleasant to the eye, useless to the thought. But +those Christian cornices are, as far as may be, suggestive; +there is not the tenth of the work in them that there is in the +Greek arrows, but, as far as that work will go, it has consistent +intention; with the fewest possible incisions, and those of the +easiest shape, they suggest the true image, of clusters of +leaves, each leaf with its central depression from root to point, +and that distinctly visible at almost any distance from the eye, +and in almost any light.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIX</span>. Here, then, are two great new elements visible; +energy and naturalism:—Life, with submission to the laws of +God, and love of his works; this is Christianity, dealing with +her classical models. Now look back to what I said in <a href="#chap_1">Chap. +1.</a> § <span class="scs">XX</span>. of this dealing of hers, and invention of the new Doric +line; then to what is above stated (§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>.) respecting that new +Doric, and the boughs of trees; and now to the evidence in +the cutting of the leaves on the same Doric section, and see +how the whole is beginning to come together.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XX</span>. We said that something would come of these two +cornices, <i>a</i> and <i>d</i>. In <i>e</i> and <i>f</i> we see that something <i>has</i> come +of them: <i>e</i> is also from St. Mark’s, and one of the earliest +examples in Venice of the transition from the Byzantine to +the Gothic cornice. It is already singularly developed; flowers +have been added between the clusters of leaves, and the +leaves themselves curled over: and observe the well-directed +thought of the sculptor in this curling;—the old incisions are +retained below, and their excessive rigidity is one of the proofs +of the earliness of the cornice; but those incisions now stand +for the <i>under</i> surface of the leaf; and behold, when it turns +over, on the top of it you see true <i>ribs</i>. Look at the upper +and under surface of a cabbage-leaf, and see what quick steps +we are making.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXI</span>. The fifth example (<i>f</i>) was cut in 1347; it is from +the tomb of Marco Giustiniani, in the church of St. John and +Paul, and it exhibits the character of the central Venetian +Gothic fully developed. The lines are all now soft and undulatory, +though elastic; the sharp incisions have become deeply-gathered +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page316"></a>316</span> +folds; the hollow of the leaf is expressed completely +beneath, and its edges are touched with light, and incised into +several lobes, and their ribs delicately drawn above. (The +flower between is only accidentally absent; it occurs in most +cornices of the time.)</p> + +<p>But in both these cornices the reader will notice that while +the naturalism of the sculpture is steadily on the increase, the +classical formalism is still retained. The leaves are accurately +numbered, and sternly set in their places; they are leaves in +office, and dare not stir nor wave. They have the shapes of +leaves, but not the functions, “having the form of knowledge, +but denying the power thereof.” What is the meaning of this?</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXII</span>. Look back to the <span class="scs">XXXIII</span>rd paragraph of the first +chapter, and you will see the meaning of it. These cornices +are the Venetian Ecclesiastical Gothic; the Christian element +struggling with the Formalism of the Papacy,—the Papacy +being entirely heathen in all its principles. That officialism +of the leaves and their ribs means Apostolic succession, and I +don’t know how much more, and is already preparing for the +transition to old Heathenism again, and the Renaissance.<a name="FnAnchor_86" href="#Footnote_86"><span class="sp">86</span></a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIII.</span> Now look to the last cornice (<i>g</i>). That is Protestantism,—a +slight touch of Dissent, hardly amounting to schism, +in those falling leaves, but true life in the whole of it. The +forms all broken through, and sent heaven knows where, but +the root held fast; and the strong sap in the branches; and, +best of all, good fruit ripening and opening straight towards +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page317"></a>317</span> +heaven, and in the face of it, even though some of the leaves +lie in the dust.</p> + +<p>Now, observe. The cornice <i>f</i> represents Heathenism and +Papistry, animated by the mingling of Christianity and nature. +The good in it, the life of it, the veracity and liberty of it, +such as it has, are Protestantism in its heart; the rigidity and +saplessness are the Romanism of it. It is the mind of Fra +Angelico in the monk’s dress,—Christianity before the Reformation. +The cornice <i>g</i> has the Lombardic life element in its +fulness, with only some color and shape of Classicalism mingled +with it—the good of classicalism; as much method and +Formalism as are consistent with life, and fitting for it: The +continence within certain border lines, the unity at the root, +the simplicity of the great profile,—all these are the healthy +classical elements retained: the rest is reformation, new +strength, and recovered liberty.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIV</span>. There is one more point about it especially noticeable. +The leaves are thoroughly natural in their general character, +but they are of no particular species: and after being +something like cabbage-leaves in the beginning, one of them +suddenly becomes an ivy-leaf in the end. Now I don’t know +what to say of this. I know it, indeed, to be a classical character;—it +is eminently characteristic of Southern work; and +markedly distinctive of it from the Northern ornament, which +would have been oak, or ivy, or apple, but not anything, nor +two things in one. It is, I repeat, a clearly classical element; +but whether a good or bad element, I am not sure;—whether +it is the last trace of Centaurism and other monstrosity dying +away; or whether it has a figurative purpose, legitimate in +architecture (though never in painting), and has been rightly +retained by the Christian sculptor, to express the working of +that spirit which grafts one nature upon another, and discerns +a law in its members warring against the law of its mind.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXV</span>. These, then, being the points most noticeable in the +spirit both of the designs and the chiselling, we have now to +return to the question proposed in § <span class="scs">XIII</span>., and observe the +modifications of form of profile which resulted from the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page318"></a>318</span> +changing contours of the leafage; for up to § <span class="scs">XIII</span>., we had, as +usual, considered the possible conditions of form in the abstract;—the +modes in which they have been derived from +each other in actual practice require to be followed in their +turn. How the Greek Doric or Greek ogee cornices were +invented is not easy to determine, and, fortunately, is little to +our present purpose; for the mediæval ogee cornices have an +independent development of their own, from the first type of +the concave cornice <i>a</i> in <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a></p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LXIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_63"><img src="images/img318.jpg" width="300" height="174" alt="Fig. LXIII." title="Fig. LXIII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVI.</span> That cornice occurs, in the simplest work, perfectly +pure, but in finished work it was quickly felt that there was a +meagreness in its junction +with the wall beneath it, where +it was set as here at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_63">Fig. +LXIII.</a>, which could only be +conquered by concealing such +junction in a bar of shadow. +There were two ways of getting +this bar: one by a projecting +roll at the foot of the cornice (<i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_63">Fig. LXIII.</a>), the other by +slipping the whole cornice a little forward (<i>c</i>. <a href="#fig_63">Fig. LXIII.</a>). +From these two methods arise two groups of cornices and +capitals, which we shall pursue in succession.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVII.</span> First group. With the roll at the base (<i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_63">Fig. +LXIII.</a>). The chain of its succession is represented from 1 +to 6, in <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a>: 1 and 2 are the steps already gained, as in +<a href="#fig_63">Fig. LXIII.</a>; and in them the profile of cornice used is <i>a</i> of +<a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a>, or a refined condition of <i>b</i> of <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a>, <a href="#page069">p. 69</a>, above. +Now, keeping the same refined profile, substitute the condition +of it, <i>f</i> of <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a> (and there accounted for), above the roll +here, and you have 3, <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a> This superadded abacus +was instantly felt to be harsh in its projecting angle; but you +know what to do with an angle when it is harsh. Use your +simplest chamfer on it (<i>a</i> or <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_53">Fig. LIII.</a>, page 287, above), +but on the visible side only, and you have fig. 4, <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a> +(the top stone being made deeper that you may have room to +chamfer it). Now this fig. 4 is the profile of Lombardic and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page319"></a>319</span> +Venetian early capitals and cornices, by tens of thousands; +and it continues into the late Venetian Gothic, with this only +difference, that as times advances, the vertical line at the top +of the original cornice begins to slope outwards, and through +a series of years rises like the hazel wand in the hand of a +diviner:—but how slowly! a stone dial which marches but 45 +degrees in three centuries, and through the intermediate condition +5 arrives at 6, and so stays.</p> + +<p>In tracing this chain I have kept all the profiles of the same +height in order to make the comparison more easy; the depth +chosen is about intermediate between that which is customary +in cornices on the one hand, which are often a little shorter, +and capitals on the other, which are often a little deeper.<a name="FnAnchor_87" href="#Footnote_87"><span class="sp">87</span></a> +And it is to be noted that the profiles 5 and 6 establish themselves +in capitals chiefly, while 4 is retained in cornices to the +latest times.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption">Fig. LXIV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright1"> + <a name="fig_64"><img src="images/img319.jpg" width="250" height="155" alt="Fig. LXIV." title="Fig. LXIV." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXVIII.</span> Second group (c, <a href="#fig_63">Fig. LXIII.</a>). If the lower +angle, which was quickly felt to be +hard, be rounded off, we have the +form <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_64">Fig. LXIV.</a> The front of +the curved line is then decorated, as +we have seen; and the termination +of the decorated surface marked by +an incision, as in an ordinary chamfer, +as at <i>b</i> here. This I believe to +have been the simple origin of most of the Venetian ogee +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page320"></a>320</span> +cornices; but they are farther complicated by the curves given +to the leafage which flows over them. In the ordinary Greek +cornices, and in <i>a</i> and <i>d</i> of <a href="#plate_16">Plate XVI.</a>, the decoration is +<i>incised</i> from the outside profile, without any suggestion of an +interior surface of a different contour. But in the leaf cornices +which follow, the decoration is represented as <i>overlaid</i> +on one of the early profiles, and has another outside contour +of its own; which is, indeed, the true profile of the cornice, +but beneath which, more or less, the simpler profile is seen +or suggested, which terminates all the incisions of the chisel. +This under profile will often be found to be some condition of +the type <i>a</i> or <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_64">Fig. LXIV.</a>; and the leaf profile to be another +ogee with its fullest curve up instead of down, lapping over +the cornice edge above, so that the entire profile might be considered +as made up of two ogee curves laid, like packed herrings, +head to tail. Figures 8 and 9 of <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a> exemplify +this arrangement. Fig. 7 is a heavier contour, doubtless composed +in the same manner, but of which I had not marked +the innermost profile, and which I have given here only to +complete the series which, from 7 to 12 inclusive, exemplifies +the gradual restriction of the leaf outline, from its boldest projection +in the cornice to its most modest service in the capital. +This change, however, is not one which indicates difference of +age, but merely of office and position: the cornice 7 is from +the tomb of the Doge Andrea Dandolo (1350) in St. Mark’s, +8 from a canopy over a door of about the same period, 9 from +the tomb of the Dogaressa Agnese Venier (1411), 10 from that +of Pietro Cornaro (1361),<a name="FnAnchor_88" href="#Footnote_88"><span class="sp">88</span></a> and 11 from that of Andrea Morosini +(1347), all in the church of San Giov. and Paola, all these +being cornice profiles; and, finally, 12 from a capital of the +Ducal Palace, of fourteen century work.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXIX</span>. Now the reader will doubtless notice that in the +three examples, 10 to 12, the leaf has a different contour from +that of 7, 8, or 9. This difference is peculiarly significant. I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page321"></a>321</span> +have always desired that the reader should theoretically consider +the capital as a concentration of the cornice; but in practice +it often happens that the cornice is, on the contrary, an +unrolled capital; and one of the richest early forms of the +Byzantine cornice (not given in <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a>, because its separate +character and importance require examination apart) is +nothing more than an unrolled continuation of the lower range +of acanthus leaves on the Corinthian capital. From this cornice +others appear to have been derived, like <i>e</i> in <a href="#plate_16">Plate XVI.</a>, +in which the acanthus outline has become confused with that +of the honeysuckle, and the rosette of the centre of the Corinthian +capital introduced between them; and thus their forms +approach more and more to those derived from the cornice +itself. Now if the leaf has the contour of 10, 11, or 12, <a href="#plate_15">Plate +XV.</a>, the profile is either actually of a capital, or of a cornice +derived from a capital; while, if the leaf have the contour of +7 or 8, the profile is either actually of a cornice or of a capital +derived from a cornice. Where the Byzantines use the acanthus, +the Lombards use the Persepolitan water-leaf; but the +connection of the cornices and capitals is exactly the same.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXX.</span> Thus far, however, we have considered the characters +of profile which are common to the cornice and capital +both. We have now to note what farther decorative features +or peculiarities belong to the capital itself, or result from the +theoretical gathering of the one into the other.</p> + +<p>Look back to <a href="#fig_22">Fig. XXII.</a>, <a href="#page110">p. 110</a>. The five types there +given, represented the five different methods of concentration +of the root of cornices, <i>a</i> of <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a> Now, as many profiles +of cornices as were developed in <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a> from this cornice +root, there represented by the dotted slope, so many may be +applied to each of the five types in <a href="#fig_22">Fig. XXII.</a>,—applied simply +in <i>a</i> and <i>b</i>, but with farther modifications, necessitated by +their truncations or spurs, in <i>c</i>, <i>d</i>, and <i>e</i>.</p> + +<p>Then, these cornice profiles having been so applied in such +length and slope as is proper for capitals, the farther condition +comes into effect described in Chapter IX. § <span class="scs">XXIV</span>., and any +one of the cornices in <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a> may become the <i>abacus</i> of a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page322"></a>322</span> +capital formed out of any other, or out of itself. The infinity +of forms thus resultant cannot, as may well be supposed, be +exhibited or catalogued in the space at present permitted to +us: but the reader, once master of the principle, will easily be +able to investigate for himself the syntax of all examples that +may occur to him, and I shall only here, as a kind of exercise, +put before him a few of those which he will meet with most +frequently in his Venetian inquiries, or which illustrate points, +not hitherto touched upon, in the disposition of the abacus.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXI.</span> In <a href="#plate_17">Plate XVII.</a> the capital at the top, on the left +hand, is the rudest possible gathering of the plain Christian +Doric cornice, <i>d</i> of <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a> The shaft is octagonal, and +the capital is not cut to fit it, but is square at the base; and +the curve of its profile projects on two of its sides more than +on the other two, so as to make the abacus oblong, in order to +carry an oblong mass of brickwork, dividing one of the upper +lights of a Lombard campanile at Milan. The awkward +stretching of the brickwork, to do what the capital ought to +have done, is very remarkable. There is here no second superimposed +abacus.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXII.</span> The figure on the right hand, at the top, shows the +simple but perfect fulfilment of all the requirements in which +the first example fails. The mass of brickwork to be carried +is exactly the same in size and shape; but instead of being +trusted to a single shaft, it has two of smaller area (compare +<a href="#chap_8">Chap. VIII.</a>, § <span class="scs">XIII</span>.), and all the expansion necessary is now +gracefully attained by their united capitals, hewn out of one +stone. Take the section of these capitals through their angle, +and nothing can be simpler or purer; it is composed of 2, in +<a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a>, used for the capital itself, with <i>c</i> of <a href="#fig_63">Fig. LXIII.</a> +used for the abacus; the reader could hardly have a neater +little bit of syntax for a first lesson. If the section be taken +through the side of the bell, the capital profile is the root of +cornices, <i>a</i> of <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a>, with the added roll. This capital is +somewhat remarkable in having its sides perfectly straight, +some slight curvature being usual on so bold a scale; but it is +all the better as a first example, the method of reduction being +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page323"></a>323</span> +of order <i>d</i>, in <a href="#fig_22">Fig. XXII.</a>, <a href="#page110">p. 110</a>, and with a concave cut, as +in <a href="#fig_21">Fig. XXI.</a>, <a href="#page109">p. 109</a>. These two capitals are from the cloister +of the duomo of Verona.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">XVII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_17"><img src="images/img323a.jpg" width="417" height="650" alt="CAPITALS." title="CAPITALS." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">CAPITALS.<br /> + <span class="f80">CONCAVE GROUP.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LXV.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_65"><img src="images/img323b.jpg" width="600" height="271" alt="Fig. LXV." title="Fig. LXV." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXIII</span>. The lowermost figure in <a href="#plate_17">Plate XVII.</a> represents +an exquisitely finished example of the same type, from St. +Zeno of Verona. Above, at 2, in <a href="#plate_2">Plate II.</a>, the plan of the +shafts was given, but I inadvertently reversed their position: +in comparing that plan with <a href="#plate_17">Plate XVII.</a>, <a href="#plate_2">Plate II.</a> must be +held upside down. The capitals, with the band connecting +them, are all cut out of one block; their profile is an adaptation +of 4 of <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a>, with a plain headstone superimposed. +This method of reduction is that of order <i>d</i> in <a href="#fig_22">Fig. XXII.</a>, +but the peculiarity of treatment of their truncation is highly +interesting. <a href="#fig_65">Fig. LXV.</a> represents the plans of the capitals +at the base, the shaded parts being the bells: the open line, +the roll with its connecting band. The bell of the one, it will +be seen, is the exact reverse of that of the other: the angle +truncations are, in both, curved horizontally as well as uprightly; +but their curve is convex in the one, and in the other +concave. <a href="#plate_17">Plate XVII.</a> will show the effect of both, with the +farther incisions, to the same depth, on the flank of the one +with the concave truncation, which join with the rest of its +singularly bold and keen execution in giving the impression +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page324"></a>324</span> +of its rather having been cloven into its form by the sweeps of +a sword, than by the dull travail of a chisel. Its workman +was proud of it, as well he might be: he has written his name +upon its front (I would that more of his fellows had been as +kindly vain), and the goodly stone proclaims for ever, <span class="scs">ADAMINUS +DE SANCTO GIORGIO ME FECIT</span>.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXIV.</span> The reader will easily understand that the gracefulness +of this kind of truncation, as he sees it in <a href="#plate_17">Plate XVII.</a>, +soon suggested the idea of reducing it to a vegetable outline, +and laying four healing leaves, as it were, upon the wounds +which the sword had made. These four leaves, on the truncations +of the capital, correspond to the four leaves which we +saw, in like manner, extend themselves over the spurs of the +base, and, as they increase in delicacy of execution, form one +of the most lovely groups of capitals which the Gothic workmen +ever invented; represented by two perfect types in the +capitals of the Piazzetta columns of Venice. But this pure +group is an isolated one; it remains in the first simplicity of its +conception far into the thirteenth century, while around it rise +up a crowd of other forms, imitative of the old Corinthian, +and in which other and younger leaves spring up in luxuriant +growth among the primal four. The varieties of their grouping +we shall enumerate hereafter: one general characteristic of +them all must be noted here.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXV.</span> The reader has been told repeatedly<a name="FnAnchor_89" href="#Footnote_89"><span class="sp">89</span></a> that there +are two, and only two, real orders of capitals, originally represented +by the Corinthian and the Doric; and distinguished by +the concave or convex contours of their bells, as shown by the +dotted lines at <i>e</i>, <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a>, <a href="#page065">p. 65</a>. And hitherto, respecting the +capital, we have been exclusively concerned with the methods +in which these two families of simple contours have gathered +themselves together, and obtained reconciliation to the abacus +above, and the shaft below. But the last paragraph introduces +us to the surface ornament disposed upon these, in the chiselling +of which the characters described above, § <span class="scs">XXVIII</span>., which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page325"></a>325</span> +are but feebly marked in the cornice, boldly distinguish and +divide the families of the capital.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXVI.</span> Whatever the nature of the ornament be, it must +clearly have relief of some kind, and must present projecting +surfaces separated by incisions. But it is a very material question +whether the contour, hitherto broadly considered as that +of the entire bell, shall be that of the <i>outside</i> of the projecting +and relieved ornaments, or of the <i>bottoms of the incisions</i> +which divide them; whether, that is to say, we shall first cut +out the bell of our capital quite smooth, and then cut farther +into it, with incisions, which shall leave ornamental forms in +relief, or whether, in originally cutting the contour of the bell, +we shall leave projecting bits of stone, which we may afterwards +work into the relieved ornament.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXVII.</span> Now, look back to <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a>, <a href="#page065">p. 65</a>. Clearly, if to +ornament the already hollowed profile, <i>b</i>, we cut deep incisions +into it, we shall so far weaken it at the top, that it will nearly +lose all its supporting power. Clearly, also, if to ornament +the already bulging profile <i>c</i> we were to leave projecting pieces +of stone outside of it, we should nearly destroy all its relation +to the original sloping line X, and produce an unseemly and +ponderous mass, hardly recognizable as a cornice profile. It is +evident, on the other hand, that we can afford to cut into this +profile without fear of destroying its strength, and that we can +afford to leave projections outside of the other, without fear of +destroying its lightness. Such is, accordingly, the natural disposition +of the sculpture, and the two great families of capitals +are therefore distinguished, not merely by their concave and +convex contours, but by the ornamentation being left outside +the bell of the one, and cut into the bell of the other; so that, +in either case, the ornamental portions will fall <i>between the +dotted lines</i> at <i>e</i>, <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a>, and the pointed oval, or vesica piscis, +which is traced by them, may be called the Limit of ornamentation.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXVIII.</span> Several distinctions in the quantity and style of +the ornament must instantly follow from this great distinction +in its position. First, in its quantity. For, observe: since in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page326"></a>326</span> +the Doric profile, <i>c</i> of <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a>, the contour itself is to be composed +of the surface of the ornamentation, this ornamentation +must be close and united enough to form, or at least suggest, a +continuous surface; it must, therefore, be rich in quantity and +close in aggregation; otherwise it will destroy the massy character +of the profile it adorns, and approximate it to its opposite, +the concave. On the other hand, the ornament left projecting +from the concave, must be sparing enough, and dispersed +enough, to allow the concave bell to be clearly seen beneath it; +otherwise it will choke up the concave profile, and approximate +it to its opposite, the convex.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XXXIX</span>. And, secondly, in its style. For, clearly, as the +sculptor of the concave profile must leave masses of rough +stone prepared for his outer ornament, and cannot finish them +at once, but must complete the cutting of the smooth bell +beneath first, and then return to the projecting masses (for if +he were to finish these latter first, they would assuredly, if +delicate or sharp, be broken as he worked on; since, I say, he +must work in this foreseeing and predetermined method, he is +sure to reduce the system of his ornaments to some definite +symmetrical order before he begins); and the habit of conceiving +beforehand all that he has to do, will probably render him not +only more orderly in its arrangement, but more skilful and +accurate in its execution, than if he could finish all as he +worked on. On the other hand, the sculptor of the convex +profile has its smooth surface laid before him, as a piece of +paper on which he can sketch at his pleasure; the incisions he +makes in it are like touches of a dark pencil; and he is at +liberty to roam over the surface in perfect freedom, with light +incisions or with deep; finishing here, suggesting there, or +perhaps in places leaving the surface altogether smooth. It is +ten to one, therefore, but that, if he yield to the temptation, he +becomes irregular in design, and rude in handling; and we +shall assuredly find the two families of capitals distinguished, +the one by its symmetrical, thoroughly organised, and exquisitely +executed ornament, the other by its rambling, confused, +and rudely chiselled ornament: But, on the other hand, while +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page327"></a>327</span> +we shall often have to admire the disciplined precision of the +one, and as often to regret the irregular rudeness of the other, +we shall not fail to find balancing qualities in both. The +severity of the disciplinarian capital represses the power of the +imagination; it gradually degenerates into Formalism; and +the indolence which cannot escape from its stern demand of +accurate workmanship, seeks refuge in copyism of established +forms, and loses itself at last in lifeless mechanism. The license +of the other, though often abused, permits full exercise to the +imagination: the mind of the sculptor, unshackled by the +niceties of chiselling, wanders over its orbed field in endless +fantasy; and, when generous as well as powerful, repays the +liberty which has been granted to it with interest, by developing +through the utmost wildness and fulness of its thoughts, an +order as much more noble than the mechanical symmetry of +the opponent school, as the domain which it regulates is +vaster.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">XVIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_18"><img src="images/img327.jpg" width="401" height="650" alt="CAPITALS." title="CAPITALS." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">CAPITALS.<br /> + <span class="f80">CONVEX GROUP.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XL.</span> And now the reader shall judge whether I had not +reason to cast aside the so-called Five orders of the Renaissance +architects, with their volutes and fillets, and to tell him that +there were only two real orders, and that there could never be +more.<a name="FnAnchor_90" href="#Footnote_90"><span class="sp">90</span></a> For we now find that these two great and real orders +are representative of the two great influences which must for +ever divide the heart of man: the one of Lawful Discipline, +with its perfection and order, but its danger of degeneracy +into Formalism; the other of Lawful Freedom, with its vigor +and variety, but its danger of degeneracy into Licentiousness.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLI.</span> I shall not attempt to give any illustrations here of +the most elaborate developments of either order; they will be better +given on a larger scale: but the examples in <a href="#plate_17">Plate XVII.</a> and +XVIII. represent the two methods of ornament in their earliest +appliance. The two lower capitals in <a href="#plate_17">Plate XVII.</a> are a pure +type of the concave school; the two in the centre of <a href="#plate_18">Plate +XVIII.</a>, of the convex. At the top of <a href="#plate_18">Plate XVIII.</a> are two +Lombardic capitals; that on the left from Sta. Sofia at Padua, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page328"></a>328</span> +that on the right from the cortile of St. Ambrogio at Milan. +They both have the concave angle truncation; but being of +date prior to the time when the idea of the concave bell was +developed, they are otherwise left square, and decorated with +the surface ornament characteristic of the convex school. The +relation of the designs to each other is interesting; the cross +being prominent in the centre of each, but more richly relieved +in that from St. Ambrogio. The two beneath are from the +southern portico of St. Mark’s; the shafts having been of different +lengths, and neither, in all probability, originally intended +for their present place, they have double abaci, of which +the uppermost is the cornice running round the whole façade. +The zigzagged capital is highly curious, and in its place very +effective and beautiful, although +one of the exceptions which it +was above noticed that we should +sometimes find to the law stated +in § <span class="scs">XV.</span> above.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LXVI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_66"><img src="images/img328.jpg" width="300" height="293" alt="Fig. LXVI." title="Fig. LXVI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLII.</span> The lower capital, +which is also of the true convex +school, exhibits one of the conditions +of the spurred type, <i>e</i> of +<a href="#fig_22">Fig. XXII.</a>, respecting which one +or two points must be noticed.</p> + +<p>If we were to take up the +plan of the simple spur, represented +at <i>e</i> in <a href="#fig_22">Fig. XXII.</a>, <a href="#page110">p. 110</a>, and treat it, with the salvia +leaf, as we did the spur of the base, we should have for the +head of our capital a plan like <a href="#fig_66">Fig. LXVI.</a>, which is actually +that of one of the capitals of the Fondaco de’ Turchi at Venice; +with this only difference, that the intermediate curves between +the spurs would have been circular: the reason they are not so, +here, is that the decoration, instead of being confined to the +spur, is now spread over the whole mass, and contours are +therefore given to the intermediate curves which fit them for +this ornament; the inside shaded space being the head of the +shaft, and the outer, the abacus. The reader has in <a href="#fig_66">Fig. LXVI.</a> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page329"></a>329</span> +a characteristic type of the plans of the spurred capitals, +generally preferred by the sculptors of the convex school, but +treated with infinite variety, the spurs often being cut into +animal forms, or the incisions between them multiplied, for +richer effect; and in our own Norman capital the type <i>c</i> of +<a href="#fig_22">Fig. XXII.</a> is variously subdivided by incisions on its slope, +approximating in general effect to many conditions of the real +spurred type, <i>e</i>, but totally differing from them in principle.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LXVII.</td> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LXVIII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_67"><img src="images/img329a.jpg" width="300" height="286" alt="Fig. LXVII." title="Fig. LXVII." /></a></td> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_68"><img src="images/img329b.jpg" width="300" height="298" alt="Fig. LXVIII." title="Fig. LXVIII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLIII</span>. The treatment of the spur in the concave school is +far more complicated, being borrowed in nearly every case +from the original Corinthian. Its plan may be generally +represented by <a href="#fig_67">Fig. LXVII.</a> The spur itself is carved into +a curling tendril or concave leaf, which supports the projecting +angle of a four-sided abacus, whose hollow sides fall back +behind the bell, and have generally a rosette or other ornament +in their centres. The mediæval architects often put +another square abacus above all, as represented by the shaded +portion of <a href="#fig_67">Fig. LXVII.</a>, and some massy conditions of this +form, elaborately ornamented, are very beautiful; but it is apt +to become rigid and effeminate, as assuredly it is in the original +Corinthian, which is thoroughly mean and meagre in its upper +tendrils and abacus.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLIV</span>. The lowest capital in <a href="#plate_18">Plate XVIII.</a> is from St. +Mark’s, and singular in having double spurs; it is therefore to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page330"></a>330</span> +be compared with the doubly spurred base, also from St Mark’s, +in <a href="#plate_11">Plate XI.</a> In other respects it is a good example of the +union of breadth of mass with subtlety of curvature, which +characterises nearly all the spurred capitals of the convex +school. Its plan is given in <a href="#fig_68">Fig. LXVIII.</a>: the inner shaded +circle is the head of the shaft; the white cross, the bottom +of the capital, which expands itself into the external shaded +portions at the top. Each spur, thus formed, is cut like a +ship’s bow, with the Doric profile; the surfaces so obtained +are then charged with arborescent ornament.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLV.</span> I shall not here farther exemplify the conditions of +the treatment of the spur, because I am afraid of confusing the +reader’s mind, and diminishing the distinctness of his conception +of the differences between the two great orders, which it +has been my principal object to develope throughout this +chapter. If all my readers lived in London, I could at once +fix this difference in their minds by a simple, yet somewhat +curious illustration. In many parts of the west end of London, +as, for instance, at the corners of Belgrave Square, and +the north side of Grosvenor Square, the Corinthian capitals of +newly-built houses are put into cages of wire. The wire cage +is the exact form of the typical capital of the convex school; +the Corinthian capital, within, is a finished and highly decorated +example of the concave. The space between the cage +and capital is the limit of ornamentation.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLVI.</span> Those of my readers, however, to whom this illustration +is inaccessible, must be content with the two profiles, +13 and 14, on <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a> If they will glance along the line +of sections from 1 to 6, they will see that the profile 13 is their +final development, with a superadded cornice for its abacus. It +is taken from a capital in a very important ruin of a palace, +near the Rialto of Venice, and hereafter to be described; the +projection, outside of its principal curve, is the profile of its +<i>superadded</i> leaf ornamentation; it may be taken as one of the +simplest, yet a perfect type of the concave group.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLVII.</span> The profile 14 is that of the capital of the main +shaft of the northern portico of St. Mark’s, the most finished +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page331"></a>331</span> +example I ever met with of the convex family, to which, in +spite of the central inward bend of its profile, it is marked as +distinctly belonging, by the bold convex curve at its root, +springing from the shaft in the line of the Christian Doric +cornice, and exactly reversing the structure of the other profile, +which rises from the shaft, like a palm leaf from its +stem. Farther, in the profile 13, the innermost line is that +of the bell; but in the profile 14, the outermost line is that +of the bell, and the inner line is the limit of the incisions of +the chisel, in undercutting a reticulated veil of ornament, surrounding +a flower like a lily; most ingeniously, and, I hope, +justly, conjectured by the Marchese Selvatico to have been intended +for an imitation of the capitals of the temple of Solomon, +which Hiram made, with “nets of checker work, and +wreaths of chain work for the chapiters that were on the top +of the pillars ... and the chapiters that were upon the top of +the pillars were of lily work in the porch.” (1 Kings, vii. 17, +19.)</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XLVIII.</span> On this exquisite capital there is imposed an +abacus of the profile with which we began our investigation +long ago, the profile <i>a</i> of <a href="#fig_5">Fig. V.</a> This abacus is formed by +the cornice already given, <i>a</i>, of <a href="#plate_16">Plate XVI.</a>: and therefore we +have, in this lovely Venetian capital, the summary of the results +of our investigation, from its beginning to its close: the +type of the first cornice; the decoration of it, in its emergence +from the classical models; the gathering into the capital; the +superimposition of the secondary cornice, and the refinement +of the bell of the capital by triple curvature in the two limits +of chiselling. I cannot express the exquisite refinements of +the curves on the small scale of <a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a>; I will give them +more accurately in a larger engraving; but the scale on which +they are here given will not prevent the reader from perceiving, +and let him note it thoughtfully, that the outer curve +of the noble capital is the one which was our first example of +associated curves; that I have had no need, throughout the +whole of our inquiry, to refer to any other ornamental line +than the three which I at first chose, the simplest of those +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page332"></a>332</span> +which Nature set by chance before me; and that this lily, of +the delicate Venetian marble, has but been wrought, by the +highest human art, into the same line which the clouds disclose, +when they break from the rough rocks of the flank of the +Matterhorn.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_84" href="#FnAnchor_84"><span class="fn">84</span></a> In very early Doric it was an absolute right line; and that capital is +therefore derived from the pure cornice root, represented by the dotted line.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_85" href="#FnAnchor_85"><span class="fn">85</span></a> The word banded is used by Professor Willis in a different sense; +which I would respect, by applying it in his sense always to the Impost, +and in mine to the capital itself. (This note is not for the general reader, +who need not trouble himself about the matter.)</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_86" href="#FnAnchor_86"><span class="fn">86</span></a> The Renaissance period being one of return to formalism on the one +side, of utter licentiousness on the other, so that sometimes, as here, I have +to declare its lifelessness, at other times (<a href="#chap_25">Chap. XXV.</a>, § <span class="scs">XVII</span>.) its lasciviousness. +There is, of course, no contradiction in this: but the reader +might well ask how I knew the change from the base 11 to the base 12, in +<a href="#plate_12">Plate XII.</a>, to be one from temperance to luxury; and from the cornice <i>f</i> +to the cornice <i>g</i>, in <a href="#plate_16">Plate XVI.</a>, to be one from formalism to vitality. I +know it, both by certain internal evidences, on which I shall have to dwell +at length hereafter, and by the context of the works of the time. But the +outward signs might in both ornaments be the same, distinguishable only +as signs of opposite tendencies by the event of both. The blush of shame +cannot always be told from the blush of indignation.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_87" href="#FnAnchor_87"><span class="fn">87</span></a> The reader must always remember that a cornice, in becoming a +capital, must, if not originally bold and deep, have depth added to its profile, +in order to reach the just proportion of the lower member of the shaft +head; and that therefore the small Greek egg cornices are utterly incapable +of becoming capitals till they have totally changed their form and depth. +The Renaissance architects, who never obtained hold of a right principle +but they made it worse than a wrong one by misapplication, caught the +idea of turning the cornice into a capital, but did not comprehend the +necessity of the accompanying change of depth. Hence we have pilaster +heads formed of small egg cornices, and that meanest of all mean heads +of shafts, the coarse Roman Doric profile chopped into a small egg and +arrow moulding, both which may be seen disfiguring half the buildings in +London.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_88" href="#FnAnchor_88"><span class="fn">88</span></a> I have taken these dates roughly from Selvatico; their absolute accuracy +to within a year or two, is here of no importance.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_89" href="#FnAnchor_89"><span class="fn">89</span></a> <a href="#chap_1">Chap. I.</a> § <span class="scs">XIX</span>., <a href="#app_7">Appendix 7</a>: and <a href="#chap_6">Chap. VI.</a> § <span class="scs">V</span>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_90" href="#FnAnchor_90"><span class="fn">90</span></a> <a href="#chap_1">Chap. I.</a>, § <span class="scs">XIX</span>.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page333"></a>333</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_28"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h3> + +<h5>THE ARCHIVOLT AND APERTURE.</h5> + + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">XIX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_19" id="plate_19"><img src="images/img333.jpg" width="650" height="414" alt="ARCHIVOLT DECORATION." title="ARCHIVOLT DECORATION." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">ARCHIVOLT DECORATION.<br /> + <span class="f80">AT VERONA.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">If</span> the windows and doors of some of our best northern +Gothic buildings were built up, and the ornament of their +archivolts concealed, there would often remain little but masses +of dead wall and unsightly buttress; the whole vitality of the +building consisting in the graceful proportions or rich mouldings +of its apertures. It is not so in the south, where, frequently, +the aperture is a mere dark spot on the variegated +wall; but there the column, with its horizontal or curved +architrave, assumes an importance of another kind, equally +dependent upon the methods of lintel and archivolt decoration. +These, though in their richness of minor variety they defy all +exemplification, may be very broadly generalized.</p> + +<p>Of the mere lintel, indeed, there is no specific decoration, +nor can be; it has no organism to direct its ornament, and +therefore may receive any kind and degree of ornament, according +to its position. In a Greek temple, it has meagre horizontal +lines; in a Romanesque church, it becomes a row of +upright niches, with an apostle in each; and may become anything +else at the architect’s will. But the arch head has a natural +organism, which separates its ornament into distinct families, +broadly <span class="correction" title="comma changed to period">definable.</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. In speaking of the arch-line and arch masonry, we +considered the arch to be cut straight through the wall; so +that, if half built, it would have the appearance at <i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_69">Fig. +LXIX.</a> But in the chapter on Form of Apertures, we found +that the side of the arch, or jamb of the aperture, might often +require to be bevelled, so as to give the section <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_69">Fig. LXIX.</a> +It is easily conceivable that when two ranges of voussoirs were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page334"></a>334</span> +used, one over another, it would be easier to leave those beneath, +of a smaller diameter, than to bevel them to accurate +junction with those outside. Whether influenced +by this facility, or by decorative instinct, +the early northern builders often +substitute for the bevel the third condition, +<i>c</i>, of <a href="#fig_69">Fig. LXIX.</a>; so that, of the three +forms in that figure, <i>a</i> belongs principally +to the south, <i>c</i> to the north, and <i>b</i> indifferently +to both.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LXIX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_69"><img src="images/img334.jpg" width="130" height="400" alt="Fig. LXIX." title="Fig. LXIX." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. If the arch in the northern building +be very deep, its depth will probably be attained +by a succession of steps, like that in +<i>c</i>; and the richest results of northern archivolt +decoration are entirely based on the +aggregation of the ornament of these several +steps; while those of the south are only the +complete finish and perfection of the ornament +of one. In this ornament of the single +arch, the points for general note are very few.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. It was, in the first instance, derived from the classical +architrave,<a name="FnAnchor_91" href="#Footnote_91"><span class="sp">91</span></a> and the early Romanesque arches are nothing but +such an architrave, bent round. The horizontal lines of the +latter become semicircular, but their importance and value remain +exactly the same; their continuity is preserved across all +the voussoirs, and the joints and functions of the latter are +studiously concealed. As the builders get accustomed to the +arch, and love it better, they cease to be ashamed of its structure: +the voussoirs begin to show themselves confidently, and +fight for precedence with the architrave lines; and there is an +entanglement of the two structures, in consequence, like the +circular and radiating lines of a cobweb, until at last the architrave +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page335"></a>335</span> +lines get worsted, and driven away outside of the voussoirs; +being permitted to stay at all only on condition of their +dressing themselves in mediæval costume, as in the plate opposite.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. In other cases, however, before the entire discomfiture +of the architrave, a treaty of peace is signed between the adverse +parties on these terms: That the architrave shall entirely +dismiss its inner three meagre lines, and leave the space +of them to the voussoirs, to display themselves after their +manner; but that, in return for this concession, the architrave +shall have leave to expand the small cornice which usually +terminates it (the reader had better look at the original form +in that of the Erechtheum, in the middle of the Elgin room of +the British Museum) into bolder prominence, and even to put +brackets under it, as if it were a roof cornice, and thus mark +with a bold shadow the terminal line of the voussoirs. This +condition is seen in the arch from St. Pietro of Pistoja, <a href="#plate_13">Plate +XIII.</a>, above.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. If the Gothic spirit of the building be thoroughly +determined, and victorious, the architrave cornice is compelled +to relinquish its classical form, and take the profile of a +Gothic cornice or dripstone; while, in other cases, as in much +of the Gothic of Verona, it is forced to disappear altogether. +But the voussoirs then concede, on the other hand, so much +of their dignity as to receive a running ornament of foliage or +animals, like a classical frieze, and continuous round the arch. +In fact, the contest between the adversaries may be seen running +through all the early architecture of Italy: success inclining +sometimes to the one, sometimes to the other, and +various kinds of truce or reconciliation being effected between +them: sometimes merely formal, sometimes honest and affectionate, +but with no regular succession in time. The greatest +victory of the voussoir is to annihilate the cornice, and receive +an ornament of its own outline, and entirely limited +by its own joints: and yet this may be seen in the very early +apse of Murano.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. The most usual condition, however, is that unity of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page336"></a>336</span> +the two members above described, § <span class="scs">V</span>., and which may be +generally represented by the archivolt section +<i>a</i>, <a href="#fig_70">Fig. LXX.</a>; and from this descend +a family of Gothic archivolts of the highest +importance. For the cornice, thus attached +to the arch, suffers exactly the same +changes as the level cornice, or capital; receives, +in due time, its elaborate ogee profile +and leaf ornaments, like Fig. 8 or 9 of +<a href="#plate_15">Plate XV.</a>; and, when the shaft loses its +shape, and is lost in the later Gothic jamb, +the archivolt has influence enough to introduce +this ogee profile in the jamb also, +through the banded impost: and we immediately find ourselves +involved in deep successions of ogee mouldings in sides +of doors and windows, which never would have been thought +of, but for the obstinate resistance of the classical architrave +to the attempts of the voussoir at its degradation or banishment.</p> + +<table style="float: left; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LXX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figleft2"> + <a name="fig_70"><img src="images/img336.jpg" width="150" height="254" alt="Fig. LXX." title="Fig. LXX." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. This, then, will be the first great head under which +we shall in future find it convenient to arrange a large number +of archivolt decorations. It is the distinctively Southern +and Byzantine form, and typically represented by the section +<i>a</i>, of <a href="#fig_70">Fig. LXX.</a>; and it is susceptible of almost every species +of surface ornament, respecting which only this general law +may be asserted: that, while the outside or vertical surface +may properly be decorated, and yet the soffit or under surface +left plain, the soffit is never to be decorated, and the outer +surface left plain. Much beautiful sculpture is, in the best +Byzantine buildings, half lost by being put under soffits; but +the eye is led to discover it, and even to demand it, by the +rich chasing of the outside of the voussoirs. It would have +been an hypocrisy to carve them externally only. But there +is not the smallest excuse for carving the soffit, and not the +outside; for, in that case, we approach the building under the +idea of its being perfectly plain; we do not look for the soffit +decoration, and, of course, do not see it: or, if we do, it is +merely to regret that it should not be in a better place. In +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page337"></a>337</span> +the Renaissance architects, it may, perhaps, for once, be considered +a merit, that they put their bad decoration systematically +in the places where we should least expect it, and can +seldomest see it:—Approaching the Scuola di San Rocco, you +probably will regret the extreme plainness and barrenness of +the window traceries; but, if you will go very close to the +wall beneath the windows, you may, on sunny days, discover a +quantity of panel decorations which the ingenious architect has +concealed under the soffits.</p> + +<p>The custom of decorating the arch soffit with panelling is a +Roman application of the Greek roof ornament, which, whatever +its intrinsic merit (compare <a href="#chap_29">Chap. XXIX.</a> § <span class="scs">IV</span>.), may +rationally be applied to waggon vaults, as of St. Peter’s, and +to arch soffits under which one walks. But the Renaissance +architects had not wit enough to reflect that people usually do +not walk through windows.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. So far, then, of the Southern archivolt: In <a href="#fig_69">Fig. +LXIX.</a>, above, it will be remembered that <i>c</i> represents the +simplest form of the Northern. In the farther development +of this, which we have next to consider, the voussoirs, in consequence +of their own negligence or over-confidence, sustain a +total and irrecoverable defeat. That archivolt is in its earliest +conditions perfectly pure and undecorated,—the simplest and +rudest of Gothic forms. Necessarily, when it falls on the pier, +and meets that of the opposite arch, the entire section of +masonry is in the shape of a cross, and is carried by the crosslet +shaft, which we above stated to be distinctive of Northern +design. I am more at a loss to account for the sudden and +fixed development of this type of archivolt than for any other +architectural transition with which I am acquainted. But +there it is, pure and firmly established, as early as the building +of St. Michele of Pavia; and we have thenceforward only to +observe what comes of it.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. We find it first, as I said, perfectly barren; cornice +and architrave altogether ignored, the existence of such things +practically denied, and a plain, deep-cut recess with a single +mighty shadow occupying their place. The voussoirs, thinking +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page338"></a>338</span> +their great adversary utterly defeated, are at no trouble +to show themselves; visible enough in both the upper and +under archivolts, they are content to wait the time when, as +might have been hoped, they should receive a new decoration +peculiar to themselves.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XI</span>. In this state of paralysis, or expectation, their flank +is turned by an insidious chamfer. The edges of the two great +blank archivolts are felt to be painfully conspicuous; all the +four are at once beaded or chamfered, as at <i>b</i>, <a href="#fig_70">Fig. LXX.</a>; a +rich group of deep lines, running concentrically with the arch, +is the result on the instant, and the fate of the voussoirs is +sealed. They surrender at once without a struggle, and unconditionally; +the chamfers deepen and multiply themselves, cover +the soffit, ally themselves with other forms resulting from +grouped shafts or traceries, and settle into the inextricable richness +of the fully developed Gothic jamb and arch; farther +complicated in the end by the addition of niches to their +recesses, as above described.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XII</span>. The voussoirs, in despair, go over to the classical +camp, in hope of receiving some help or tolerance from their +former enemies. They receive it indeed: but as traitors should, +to their own eternal dishonor. They are sharply chiselled at +the joints, or rusticated, or cut into masks and satyrs’ heads, +and so set forth and pilloried in the various detestable forms of +which the simplest is given above in <a href="#plate_13">Plate XIII.</a> (on the left); +and others may be seen in nearly every large building in London, +more especially in the bridges; and, as if in pure spite at +the treatment they had received from the archivolt, they are +now not content with vigorously showing their lateral joints, +but shape themselves into right-angled steps at their heads, +cutting to pieces their limiting line, which otherwise would +have had sympathy with that of the arch, and fitting themselves +to their new friend, the Renaissance Ruled Copy-book wall. +It had been better they had died ten times over, in their own +ancient cause, than thus prolonged their existence.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIII</span>. We bid them farewell in their dishonor, to return +to our victorious chamfer. It had not, we said, obtained so +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page339"></a>339</span> +easy a conquest, unless by the help of certain forms of the +grouped shaft. The chamfer was quite enough to decorate +the archivolts, if there were no more than two; but if, as +above noticed in § <span class="scs">III</span>., the archivolt was very deep, and composed +of a succession of such steps, the multitude of chamferings +were felt to be weak and insipid, and instead of dealing +with the outside edges of the archivolts, the group was softened +by introducing solid shafts in their dark inner angles. +This, the manliest and best condition of the early northern +jamb and archivolt, is represented in section at fig. 12 of <a href="#plate_2">Plate +II.</a>; and its simplest aspect in <a href="#plate_5">Plate V.</a>, from the Broletto of +Como,—an interesting example, because there the voussoirs +being in the midst of their above-described southern contest +with the architrave, were better prepared for the flank attack +upon them by the shaft and chamfer, and make a noble resistance, +with the help of color, in which even the shaft itself +gets slightly worsted, and cut across in several places, like +General Zach’s column at Marengo.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XIV.</span> The shaft, however, rapidly rallies, and brings up its +own peculiar decorations to its aid; and the intermediate archivolts +receive running or panelled ornaments, also, until we reach +the exquisitely rich conditions of our own Norman archivolts, +and of the parallel Lombardic designs, such as the entrance of +the Duomo, and of San Fermo, at Verona. This change, +however, occupies little time, and takes place principally in +doorways, owing to the greater thickness of wall, and depth of +archivolt; so that we find the rich shafted succession of ornament, +in the doorway and window aperture, associated with the +earliest and rudest double archivolt, in the nave arches, at St. +Michele of Pavia. The nave arches, therefore, are most +usually treated by the chamfer, and the voussoirs are there +defeated much sooner than by the shafted arrangements, which +they resist, as we saw, in the south by color; and even in the +north, though forced out of their own shape, they take that of +birds’ or monsters’ heads, which for some time peck and pinch +the rolls of the archivolt to their hearts’ content; while the +Norman zigzag ornament allies itself with them, each zigzag +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page340"></a>340</span> +often restraining itself amicably between the joints of each +voussoir in the ruder work, and even in the highly finished +arches, distinctly presenting a concentric or sunlike arrangement +of lines; so much so, as to prompt the conjecture, above +stated, <a href="#chap_20">Chap. XX.</a> § <span class="scs">XXVI</span>., that all such ornaments were intended +to be typical of light issuing from the orb of the arch. +I doubt the intention, but acknowledge the resemblance; +which perhaps goes far to account for the never-failing delightfulness +of this zigzag decoration. The diminution of the zigzag, +as it gradually shares the defeat of the voussoir, and is at +last overwhelmed by the complicated, railroad-like fluency of +the later Gothic mouldings, is to me one of the saddest sights +in the drama of architecture.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XV</span>. One farther circumstance is deserving of especial note +in <a href="#plate_5">Plate V.</a>, the greater depth of the voussoirs at the top of +the arch. This has been above alluded to as a feature of good +construction, <a href="#chap_11">Chap. XI.</a>, § <span class="scs">III</span>.; it is to be noted now as one +still more valuable in decoration: for when we arrive at the +deep succession of concentric archivolts, with which northern +portals, and many of the associated windows, are headed, we +immediately find a difficulty in reconciling the outer curve +with the inner. If, as is sometimes the case, the width of the +group of archivolts be twice or three times that of the inner +aperture, the inner arch may be distinctly pointed, and the +outer one, if drawn with concentric arcs, approximate very +nearly to a round arch. This is actually the case in the later +Gothic of Verona; the outer line of the archivolt having a +hardly perceptible point, and every inner arch of course forming +the point more distinctly, till the innermost becomes a +lancet. By far the nobler method, however, is that of the +pure early Italian Gothic; to make every outer arch a <i>magnified +fac-simile</i> of the innermost one, every arc including the +same number of degrees, but degrees of a larger circle. The +result is the condition represented in <a href="#plate_5">Plate V.</a>, often found in +far bolder development; exquisitely springy and elastic in its +expression, and entirely free from the heaviness and monotony +of the deep northern archivolts.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page341"></a>341</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVI.</span> We have not spoken of the intermediate form, <i>b</i>, of +<a href="#fig_69">Fig. LXIX.</a> (which its convenience for admission of light has +rendered common in nearly all architectures), because it has +no transitions peculiar to itself: in the north it sometimes +shares the fate of the outer architrave, and is channelled into +longitudinal mouldings; sometimes remains smooth and massy, +as in military architecture, or in the simpler forms of domestic +and ecclesiastical. In Italy it receives surface decoration like +the architrave, but has, perhaps, something of peculiar expression +in being placed between the tracery of the window within, +and its shafts and tabernacle work without, as in the Duomo +of Florence: in this position it is always kept smooth in surface, +and inlaid (or painted) with delicate arabesques; while +the tracery and the tabernacle work are richly sculptured. +The example of its treatment by colored voussoirs, given in +<a href="#plate_19">Plate XIX.</a>, may be useful to the reader as a kind of central +expression of the aperture decoration of the pure Italian +Gothic;—aperture decoration proper; applying no shaft work +to the jambs, but leaving the bevelled opening unenriched; +using on the outer archivolt the voussoirs and concentric +architrave in reconcilement (the latter having, however, some +connection with the Norman zigzag); and beneath them, the +pure Italian two-pieced and mid-cusped arch, with rich cusp +decoration. It is a Veronese arch, probably of the thirteenth +century, and finished with extreme care; the red portions are +all in brick, delicately cast: and the most remarkable feature +of the whole is the small piece of brick inlaid on the angle of +each stone voussoir, with a most just feeling, which every +artist will at once understand, that the color ought not to be +let go all at once.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVII.</span> We have traced the various conditions of treatment +in the archivolt alone; but, except in what has been said of +the peculiar expression of the voussoirs, we might throughout +have spoken in the same terms of the jamb. Even a parallel +to the expression of the voussoir may be found in the Lombardic +and Norman divisions of the shafts, by zigzags and +other transverse ornamentation, which in the end are all swept +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page342"></a>342</span> +away by the canaliculated mouldings. Then, in the recesses +of these and of the archivolts alike, the niche and statue decoration +develops itself; and the vaulted and cavernous apertures +are covered with incrustations of fretwork, and with every +various application of foliage to their fantastic mouldings.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">XVIII</span>. I have kept the inquiry into the proper ornament +of the archivolt wholly free from all confusion with the questions +of beauty in tracery; for, in fact, all tracery is a mere +multiplication and entanglement of small archivolts, and its +cusp ornament is a minor condition of that proper to the spandril. +It does not reach its completely defined form until the +jamb and archivolt have been divided into longitudinal mouldings; +and then the tracery is formed by the innermost group +of the shafts or fillets, bent into whatever forms or foliations +the designer may choose; but this with a delicacy of adaptation +which I rather choose to illustrate by particular examples, +of which we shall meet with many in the course of our inquiry, +than to delay the reader by specifying here. As for the conditions +of beauty in the disposition of the tracery bars, I see +no hope of dealing with the subject fairly but by devoting, if +I can find time, a separate essay to it—which, in itself, need +not be long, but would involve, before it could be completed, +the examination of the whole mass of materials lately collected +by the indefatigable industry of the English architects who +have devoted their special attention to this subject, and which +are of the highest value as illustrating the chronological succession +or mechanical structure of tracery, but which, in most +cases, touch on their æsthetic merits incidentally only. Of +works of this kind, by far the best I have met with is Mr. +Edmund Sharpe’s, on Decorated Windows, which seems to me, +as far as a cursory glance can enable me to judge, to exhaust +the subject as respects English Gothic; and which may be +recommended to the readers who are interested in the subject, +as containing a clear and masterly enunciation of the general +principles by which the design of tracery has been regulated, +from its first development to its final degradation.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_91" href="#FnAnchor_91"><span class="fn">91</span></a> The architrave is properly the horizontal piece of stone laid across the +tops of the pillars in Greek buildings, and commonly marked with horizontal +lines, obtained by slight projections of its surface, while it is protected +above in the richer orders, by a small cornice.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page343"></a>343</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_29"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h3> + +<h5>THE ROOF.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I.</span> <span class="sc">The</span> modes of decoration hitherto considered, have been +common to the exteriors and interiors of all noble buildings; +and we have taken no notice of the various kinds of ornament +which require protection from weather, and are necessarily +confined to interior work. But in the case of the roof, the +exterior and interior treatments become, as we saw in construction, +so also in decoration, separated by broad and bold +distinctions. One side of a wall is, in most cases, the same as +another, and if its structure be concealed, it is mostly on the +inside; but, in the roof, the anatomical structure, out of which +decoration should naturally spring, is visible, if at all, in the +interior only: so that the subject of internal ornament becomes +both wide and important, and that of external, comparatively +subordinate.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II.</span> Now, so long as we were concerned principally with +the outside of buildings, we might with safety leave expressional +character out of the question for the time, because it is +not to be expected that all persons who pass the building, or +see it from a distance, shall be in the temper which the building +is properly intended to induce; so that ornaments somewhat +at variance with this temper may often be employed +externally without painful effect. But these ornaments would +be inadmissible in the interior, for those who enter will for the +most part either be in the proper temper which the building +requires, or desirous of acquiring it. (The distinction is not +rigidly observed by the mediæval builders, and grotesques, or +profane subjects, occur in the interior of churches, in bosses, +crockets, capitals, brackets, and such other portions of minor +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page344"></a>344</span> +ornament: but we do not find the interior wall covered with +hunting and battle pieces, as often the Lombardic exteriors.) +And thus the interior expression of the roof or ceiling becomes +necessarily so various, and the kind and degree of fitting decoration +so dependent upon particular circumstances, that it is +nearly impossible to classify its methods, or limit its application.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III.</span> I have little, therefore, to say here, and that touching +rather the omission than the selection of decoration, as far as +regards interior roofing. Whether of timber or stone, roofs +are necessarily divided into surfaces, and ribs or beams;—surfaces, +flat or carved; ribs, traversing these in the directions +where main strength is required; or beams, filling the hollow +of the dark gable with the intricate roof-tree, or supporting +the flat ceiling. Wherever the ribs and beams are simply and +unaffectedly arranged, there is no difficulty about decoration; +the beams may be carved, the ribs moulded, and the eye is +satisfied at once; but when the vaulting is unribbed, as in +plain waggon vaults and much excellent early Gothic, or when +the ceiling is flat, it becomes a difficult question how far their +services may receive ornamentation independent of their structure. +I have never myself seen a flat ceiling satisfactorily +decorated, except by painting: there is much good and fanciful +panelling in old English domestic architecture, but it +always is in some degree meaningless and mean. The flat ceilings +of Venice, as in the Scuola di San Rocco and Ducal +Palace, have in their vast panellings some of the noblest paintings +(on stretched canvas) which the world possesses: and +this is all very well for the ceiling; but one would rather have +the painting in a better place, especially when the rain soaks +through its canvas, as I have seen it doing through many a +noble Tintoret. On the whole, flat ceilings are as much to be +avoided as possible; and, when necessary, perhaps a panelled +ornamentation with rich colored patterns is the most satisfying, +and loses least of valuable labor. But I leave the question +to the reader’s thought, being myself exceedingly undecided +respecting it: except only touching one point—that a blank +ceiling is not to be redeemed by a decorated ventilator.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page345"></a>345</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. I have a more confirmed opinion, however, respecting +the decoration of curved surfaces. The majesty of a roof is +never, I think, so great, as when the eye can pass undisturbed +over the course of all its curvatures, and trace the dying of the +shadows along its smooth and sweeping vaults. And I would +rather, myself, have a plain ridged Gothic vault, with all its +rough stones visible, to keep the sleet and wind out of a cathedral +aisle, than all the fanning and pendanting and foliation +that ever bewildered Tudor weight. But mosaic or fresco +may of course be used as far as we can afford or obtain them; +for these do not break the curvature. Perhaps the most +solemn roofs in the world are the apse conchas of the Romanesque +basilicas, with their golden ground and severe figures. +Exactly opposed to these are the decorations which disturb the +serenity of the curve without giving it interest, like the vulgar +panelling of St. Peter’s and the Pantheon; both, I think, in +the last degree detestable.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. As roofs internally may be divided into surfaces and +ribs, externally they may be divided into surfaces, and points, +or ridges; these latter often receiving very bold and distinctive +ornament. The outside surface is of small importance in +central Europe, being almost universally low in slope, and +tiled throughout Spain, South France, and North Italy: of +still less importance where it is flat, as a terrace; as often in +South Italy and the East, mingled with low domes: but the +larger Eastern and Arabian domes become elaborate in ornamentation: +I cannot speak of them with confidence; to the +mind of an inhabitant of the north, a roof is a guard against +wild weather; not a surface which is forever to bask in +serene heat, and gleam across deserts like a rising moon. I +can only say, that I have never seen any drawing of a richly +decorated Eastern dome that made me desire to see the original.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. Our own northern roof decoration is necessarily simple. +Colored tiles are used in some cases with quaint effect; +but I believe the dignity of the building is always greater +when the roof is kept in an undisturbed mass, opposing itself +to the variegation and richness of the walls. The Italian +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page346"></a>346</span> +round tile is itself decoration enough, a deep and rich fluting, +which all artists delight in; this, however, is fitted exclusively +for low pitch of roofs. On steep domestic roofs, there is no +ornament better than may be obtained by merely rounding, +or cutting to an angle, the lower extremities of the flat tiles +or shingles, as in Switzerland: thus the whole surface is +covered with an appearance of scales, a fish-like defence +against water, at once perfectly simple, natural, and effective +at any distance; and the best decoration of sloping stone +roofs, as of spires, is a mere copy of this scale armor; it +enriches every one of the spires and pinnacles of the cathedral +of Coutances, and of many Norman and early Gothic buildings. +Roofs covered or edged with lead have often patterns +designed upon the lead, gilded and relieved with some dark +color, as on the house of Jaques Cœur at Bourges; and I +imagine the effect of this must have been singularly delicate +and beautiful, but only traces of it now remain. The northern +roofs, however, generally stand in little need of surface +decoration, the eye being drawn to the fantastic ranges of +their dormer windows, and to the finials and fringes on their +points and ridges.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. Whether dormer windows are legitimately to be +classed as decorative features, seems to me to admit of doubt. +The northern spire system is evidently a mere elevation and +exaggeration of the domestic turret with its look-out windows, +and one can hardly part with the grotesque lines of the projections, +though nobody is to be expected to live in the spire: +but, at all events, such windows are never to be allowed in +places visibly inaccessible, or on less than a natural and serviceable +scale.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. Under the general head of roof-ridge and point +decoration, we may include, as above noted, the entire race +of fringes, finials, and crockets. As there is no use in any of +these things, and as they are visible additions and parasitical +portions of the structure, more caution is required in their use +than in any other features of ornament, and the architect and +spectator must both be in felicitous humor before they can be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page347"></a>347</span> +well designed or thoroughly enjoyed. They are generally most +admirable where the grotesque Northern spirit has most +power; and I think there is almost always a certain spirit of +playfulness in them, adverse to the grandest architectural +effects, or at least to be kept in severe subordination to the +serener character of the prevalent lines. But as they are opposed +to the seriousness of majesty on the one hand, so they +are to the weight of dulness on the other; and I know not any +features which make the contrast between continental domestic +architecture, and our own, more humiliatingly felt, or which give +so sudden a feeling of new life and delight, when we pass from +the streets of London to those of Abbeville or Rouen, as the +quaint points and pinnacles of the roof gables and turrets. +The commonest and heaviest roof may be redeemed by a spike +at the end of it, if it is set on with any spirit; but the foreign +builders have (or had, at least) a peculiar feeling in this, and +gave animation to the whole roof by the fringe of its back, +and the spike on its forehead, so that all goes together, like +the dorsal fins and spines of a fish: but our spikes have a dull, +screwed on, look; a far-off relationship to the nuts of machinery; +and our roof fringes are sure to look like fenders, as if +they were meant to catch ashes out of the London smoke-clouds.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. Stone finials and crockets are, I think, to be considered +in architecture, what points and flashes of light are in +the color of painting, or of nature. There are some landscapes +whose best character is sparkling, and there is a possibility of +repose in the midst of brilliancy, or embracing it,—as on the +fields of summer sea, or summer land:</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p class="ind03">“Calm, and deep peace, on this high wold,</p> +<p>And on the dews that drench the furze,</p> +<p>And on the silvery gossamers,</p> +<p><i>That twinkle into green and gold</i>.”</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>And there are colorists who can keep their quiet in the midst +of a jewellery of light; but, for the most part, it is better to +avoid breaking up either lines or masses by too many points, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page348"></a>348</span> +and to make the few points used exceedingly precious. So +the best crockets and finials are set, like stars, along the lines, +and at the points, which they adorn, with considerable intervals +between them, and exquisite delicacy and fancy of sculpture +in their own designs; if very small, they may become +more frequent, and describe lines by a chain of points; but +their whole value is lost if they are gathered into bunches or +clustered into tassels and knots; and an over-indulgence in +them always marks lowness of school. In Venice, the addition +of the finial to the arch-head is the first sign of degradation; +all her best architecture is entirely without either crockets +or finials; and her ecclesiastical architecture may be classed, +with fearless accuracy, as better or worse, in proportion to the +diminution or expansion of the crocket. The absolutely perfect +use of the crocket is found, I think, in the tower of Giotto, +and in some other buildings of the Pisan school. In the +North they generally err on one side or other, and are either +florid and huge, or mean in outline, looking as if they had +been pinched out of the stonework, as throughout the entire +cathedral of Amiens; and are besides connected with the generally +spotty system which has been spoken of under the head +of archivolt decoration.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. Employed, however, in moderation, they are among +the most delightful means of delicate expression; and the +architect has more liberty in their individual treatment than +in any other feature of the building. Separated entirely from +the structural system, they are subjected to no shadow of any +other laws than those of grace and chastity; and the fancy +may range without rebuke, for materials of their design, +through the whole field of the visible or imaginable creation.</p> + + + +<hr class="art" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page349"></a>349</span></p> + +<h3><a name="chap_30"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h3> + +<h5>THE VESTIBULE.</h5> + + +<p>§ <span class="scs">I</span>. <span class="sc">I have</span> hardly kept my promise. The reader has decorated +but little for himself as yet; but I have not, at least, +attempted to bias his judgment. Of the simple forms of decoration +which have been set before him, he has always been +left free to choose; and the stated restrictions in the methods +of applying them have been only those which followed on the +necessities of construction previously determined. These having +been now defined, I do indeed leave my reader free to +build; and with what a freedom! All the lovely forms of the +universe set before him, whence to choose, and all the lovely +lines that bound their substance or guide their motion; and +of all these lines,—and there are myriads of myriads in every +bank of grass and every tuft of forest; and groups of them +divinely harmonized, in the bell of every flower, and in every +several member of bird and beast,—of all these lines, for the +principal forms of the most important members of architecture, +I have used but Three! What, therefore, must be the +infinity of the treasure in them all! There is material enough +in a single flower for the ornament of a score of cathedrals, +but suppose we were satisfied with less exhaustive appliance, +and built a score of cathedrals, each to illustrate a single +flower? that would be better than trying to invent new +styles, I think. There is quite difference of style enough, between +a violet and a harebell, for all reasonable purposes.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">II</span>. Perhaps, however, even more strange than the struggle +of our architects to invent new styles, is the way they commonly +speak of this treasure of natural infinity. Let us take +our patience to us for an instant, and hear one of them, not +among the least intelligent:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page350"></a>350</span></p> + +<p class="quote">“It is not true that all natural forms are beautiful. We may hardly +be able to detect this in Nature herself; but when the forms are separated +from the things, and exhibited alone (by sculpture or carving), we then see +that they are not all fitted for ornamental purposes; and indeed that very +few, perhaps none, are so fitted without correction. Yes, I say <i>correction</i>, +for though it is the highest aim of every art to imitate nature, this is not to +be done by imitating any natural form, but by <i>criticising</i> and <i>correcting</i> it,—criticising +it by Nature’s rules gathered from all her works, but never completely +carried out by her in any one work; correcting it, by rendering it +more natural, <i>i.e.</i> more conformable to the general tendency of Nature, according +to that noble maxim recorded of Raffaelle, ‘that the artist’s object +was to make things not as Nature makes them, but as she <span class="scs">WOULD</span> make +them;’ as she ever tries to make them, but never succeeds, though her aim +may be deduced from a comparison of her efforts; just as if a number of +archers had aimed unsuccessfully at a mark upon a wall, and this mark +were then removed, we could by the examination of their arrow marks +point out the most probable position of the spot aimed at, with a certainty +of being nearer to it than any of their shots.”<a name="FnAnchor_92" href="#Footnote_92"><span class="sp">92</span></a></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">III</span>. I had thought that, by this time, we had done with +that stale, second-hand, one-sided, and misunderstood saying +of Raffaelle’s; or that at least, in these days of purer Christian +light, men might have begun to get some insight into the +meaning of it: Raffaelle was a painter of humanity, and assuredly +there is something the matter with humanity, a few +<i>dovrebbe’s</i>, more or less, wanting in it. We have most of us +heard of original sin, and may perhaps, in our modest moments, +conjecture that we are not quite what God, or nature, would +have us to be. Raffaelle <i>had</i> something to mend in Humanity: +I should have liked to have seen him mending a daisy!—or a +pease-blossom, or a moth, or a mustard seed, or any other of +God’s slightest works. If he had accomplished that, one +might have found for him more respectable employment,—to +set the stars in better order, perhaps (they seem grievously +scattered as they are, and to be of all manner of shapes and +sizes,—except the ideal shape, and the proper size); or to give +us a corrected view of the ocean; that, at least, seems a very +irregular and improveable thing; the very fishermen do not +know, this day, how far it will reach, driven up before the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page351"></a>351</span> +west wind:—perhaps Some One else does, but that is not our +business. Let us go down and stand by the beach of it,—of +the great irregular sea, and count whether the thunder of it is +not out of time. One,—two:—here comes a well-formed wave +at last, trembling a little at the top, but, on the whole, orderly. +So, crash among the shingle, and up as far as this grey pebble; +now stand by and watch! Another:—Ah, careless wave! why +couldn’t you have kept your crest on? it is all gone away into +spray, striking up against the cliffs there—I thought as much—missed +the mark by a couple of feet! Another:—How now, +impatient one! couldn’t you have waited till your friend’s reflux +was done with, instead of rolling yourself up with it in +that unseemly manner? You go for nothing. A fourth, and +a goodly one at last. What think we of yonder slow rise, and +crystalline hollow, without a flaw? Steady, good wave; not +so fast; not so fast; where are you coming to?—By our architectural +word, this is too bad; two yards over the mark, and +ever so much of you in our face besides; and a wave which we +had some hope of, behind there, broken all to pieces out at sea, +and laying a great white table-cloth of foam all the way to the +shore, as if the marine gods were to dine off it! Alas, for +these unhappy arrow shots of Nature; she will never hit her +mark with those unruly waves of hers, nor get one of them, +into the ideal shape, if we wait for a thousand years. Let us +send for a Greek architect to do it for her. He comes—the +great Greek architect, with measure and rule. Will he not +also make the weight for the winds? and weigh out the waters +by measure? and make a decree for the rain, and a way for the +lightning of the thunder? He sets himself orderly to his work, +and behold! this is the mark of nature, and this is the thing +into which the great Greek architect improves the sea—</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter1"> + <img src="images/img351.jpg" width="650" height="99" alt="the sea" title="the sea" /></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="noind"><span class="grk" title="Thálatta, thálatta:">Θάλαττα Θάλαττα:</span> Was it this, then, that they wept to see +from the sacred mountain—those wearied ones?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page352"></a>352</span></p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IV</span>. But the sea was meant to be irregular! Yes, and +were not also the leaves, and the blades of grass; and, in a sort, +as far as may be without mark of sin, even the countenance of +man? Or would it be pleasanter and better to have us all +alike, and numbered on our foreheads, that we might be known +one from the other?</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">V</span>. Is there, then, nothing to be done by man’s art? Have +we only to copy, and again copy, for ever, the imagery of the +universe? Not so. We have work to do upon it; there is +not any one of us so simple, nor so feeble, but he has work to +do upon it. But the work is not to improve, but to explain. +This infinite universe is unfathomable, inconceivable, in its +whole; every human creature must slowly spell out, and long +contemplate, such part of it as may be possible for him to +reach; then set forth what he has learned of it for those beneath +him; extricating it from infinity, as one gathers a violet +out of grass; one does not improve either violet or grass in +gathering it, but one makes the flower visible; and then the +human being has to make its power upon his own heart visible +also, and to give it the honor of the good thoughts it has raised +up in him, and to write upon it the history of his own soul. +And sometimes he may be able to do more than this, and to +set it in strange lights, and display it in a thousand ways before +unknown: ways specially directed to necessary and noble purposes, +for which he had to choose instruments out of the wide +armory of God. All this he may do: and in this he is only +doing what every Christian has to do with the written, as well +as the created word, “rightly <i>dividing</i> the word of truth.” +Out of the infinity of the written word, he has also to gather +and set forth things new and old, to choose them for the season +and the work that are before him, to explain and manifest them +to others, with such illustration and enforcement as may be in +his power, and to crown them with the history of what, by +them, God has done for his soul. And, in doing this, is he +improving the Word of God? Just such difference as there is +between the sense in which a minister may be said to improve +a text, to the people’s comfort, and the sense in which an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page353"></a>353</span> +atheist might declare that he could improve the Book, which, +if any man shall add unto, there shall be added unto him the +plagues that are written therein; just such difference is there +between that which, with respect to Nature, man is, in his +humbleness, called upon to do, and that which, in his insolence, +he imagines himself capable of doing.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VI</span>. Have no fear, therefore, reader, in judging between +nature and art, so only that you love both. If you can love +one only, then let it be Nature; you are safe with her: but do +not then attempt to judge the art, to which you do not care to +give thought, or time. But if you love both, you may judge +between them fearlessly; you may estimate the last, by its +making you remember the first, and giving you the same kind +of joy. If, in the square of the city, you can find a delight, +finite, indeed, but pure and intense, like that which you have +in a valley among the hills, then its art and architecture are +right; but if, after fair trial, you can find no delight in them, +nor any instruction like that of nature, I call on you fearlessly +to condemn them.</p> + +<p>We are forced, for the sake of accumulating our power and +knowledge, to live in cities; but such advantage as we have +in association with each other is in great part counterbalanced +by our loss of fellowship with nature. We cannot all have +our gardens now, nor our pleasant fields to meditate in at +eventide. Then the function of our architecture is, as far as +may be, to replace these; to tell us about nature; to possess us +with memories of her quietness; to be solemn and full of tenderness, +like her, and rich in portraitures of her; full of delicate +imagery of the flowers we can no more gather, and of the +living creatures now far away from us in their own solitude. +If ever you felt or found this in a London Street,—if ever it +furnished you with one serious thought, or one ray of true and +gentle pleasure,—if there is in your heart a true delight in its +grim railings and dark casements, and wasteful finery of shops, +and feeble coxcombry of club-houses,—it is well: promote the +building of more like them. But if they never taught you +anything, and never made you happier as you passed beneath +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page354"></a>354</span> +them, do not think they have any mysterious goodness nor +occult sublimity. Have done with the wretched affectation, +the futile barbarism, of pretending to enjoy: for, as surely as +you know that the meadow grass, meshed with fairy rings, is +better than the wood pavement, cut into hexagons; and as +surely as you know the fresh winds and sunshine of the upland +are better than the choke-damp of the vault, or the gas-light of +the ball-room, you may know, as I told you that you should, +that the good architecture, which has life, and truth, and joy +in it, is better than the bad architecture, which has death, dishonesty, +and vexation of heart in it, from the beginning to the +end of time.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VII</span>. And now come with me, for I have kept you too +long from your gondola: come with me, on an autumnal +morning, through the dark gates of Padua, and let us take the +broad road leading towards the East.</p> + +<p>It lies level, for a league or two, between its elms, and vine +festoons full laden, their thin leaves veined into scarlet hectic, +and their clusters deepened into gloomy blue; then mounts an +embankment above the Brenta, and runs between the river +and the broad plain, which stretches to the north in endless +lines of mulberry and maize. The Brenta flows slowly, but +strongly; a muddy volume of yellowish-grey water, that +neither hastens nor slackens, but glides heavily between its +monotonous banks, with here and there a short, babbling eddy +twisted for an instant into its opaque surface, and vanishing, +as if something had been dragged into it and gone down. +Dusty and shadeless, the road fares along the dyke on its +northern side; and the tall white tower of Dolo is seen trembling +in the heat mist far away, and never seems nearer than +it did at first. Presently you pass one of the much vaunted +“villas on the Brenta:” a glaring, spectral shell of brick and +stucco, its windows with painted architraves like picture-frames, +and a court-yard paved with pebbles in front of it, all +burning in the thick glow of the feverish sunshine, but fenced +from the high road, for magnificence sake, with goodly posts +and chains; then another, of Kew Gothic, with Chinese variations, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page355"></a>355</span> +painted red and green; a third composed for the greater +part of dead-wall, with fictitious windows painted upon it, +each with a pea-green blind, and a classical architrave in bad +perspective; and a fourth, with stucco figures set on the top +of its garden-wall: some antique, like the kind to be seen at +the corner of the New Road, and some of clumsy grotesque +dwarfs, with fat bodies and large boots. This is the architecture +to which her studies of the Renaissance have conducted +modern Italy.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">VIII</span>. The sun climbs steadily, and warms into intense +white the walls of the little piazza of Dolo, where we change +horses. Another dreary stage among the now divided +branches of the Brenta, forming irregular and half-stagnant +canals; with one or two more villas on the other side of them, +but these of the old Venetian type, which we may have +recognised before at Padua, and sinking fast into utter ruin, +black, and rent, and lonely, set close to the edge of the dull +water, with what were once small gardens beside them, kneaded +into mud, and with blighted fragments of gnarled hedges and +broken stakes for their fencing; and here and there a few +fragments of marble steps, which have once given them +graceful access from the water’s edge, now settling into the +mud in broken joints, all aslope, and slippery with green weed. +At last the road turns sharply to the north, and there is an +open space, covered with bent grass, on the right of it: but do +not look that way.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">IX</span>. Five minutes more, and we are in the upper room of +the little inn at Mestre, glad of a moment’s rest in shade. +The table is (always, I think) covered with a cloth of nominal +white and perennial grey, with plates and glasses at due intervals, +and small loaves of a peculiar white bread, made with oil, +and more like knots of flour than bread. The view from its +balcony is not cheerful: a narrow street, with a solitary brick +church and barren campanile on the other side of it; and some +coventual buildings, with a few crimson remnants of fresco +about their windows; and, between them and the street, a +ditch with some slow current in it, and one or two small houses +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page356"></a>356</span> +beside it, one with an arbor of roses at its door, as in an English +tea-garden; the air, however, about us having in it nothing +of roses, but a close smell of garlic and crabs, warmed by +the smoke of various stands of hot chestnuts. There is much +vociferation also going on beneath the window respecting certain +wheelbarrows which are in rivalry for our baggage: we +appease their rivalry with our best patience, and follow them +down the narrow street.</p> + +<p>§ <span class="scs">X</span>. We have but walked some two hundred yards when +we come to a low wharf or quay, at the extremity of a canal, +with long steps on each side down to the water, which latter +we fancy for an instant has become black with stagnation; +another glance undeceives us,—it is covered with the black +boats of Venice. We enter one of them, rather to try if they +be real boats or not, than with any definite purpose, and glide +away; at first feeling as if the water were yielding continually +beneath the boat and letting her sink into soft vacancy. It is +something clearer than any water we have seen lately, and of +a pale green; the banks only two or three feet above it, of +mud and rank grass, with here and there a stunted tree; gliding +swiftly past the small casement of the gondola, as if they +were dragged by upon a painted scene.</p> + +<p>Stroke by stroke we count the plunges of the oar, each +heaving up the side of the boat slightly as her silver beak +shoots forward. We lose patience, and extricate ourselves +from the cushions: the sea air blows keenly by, as we stand +leaning on the roof of the floating cell. In front, nothing to +be seen but long canal and level bank; to the west, the tower +of Mestre is lowering fast, and behind it there have risen purple +shapes, of the color of dead rose-leaves, all round the horizon, +feebly defined against the afternoon sky,—the Alps of +Bassano. Forward still: the endless canal bends at last, and +then breaks into intricate angles about some low bastions, now +torn to pieces and staggering in ugly rents towards the water,—the +bastions of the fort of Malghera. Another turn, and +another perspective of canal; but not interminable. The +silver beak cleaves it fast,—it widens: the rank grass of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page357"></a>357</span> +banks sinks lower, and lower, and at last dies in tawny knots +along an expanse of weedy shore. Over it, on the right, but +a few years back, we might have seen the lagoon stretching to +the horizon, and the warm southern sky bending over Malamocco +to the sea. Now we can see nothing but what seems a +low and monotonous dock-yard wall, with flat arches to let the +tide through it;—this is the railroad bridge, conspicuous +above all things. But at the end of those dismal arches, there +rises, out of the wide water, a straggling line of low and confused +brick buildings, which, but for the many towers which +are mingled among them, might be the suburbs of an English +manufacturing town. Four or five domes, pale, and apparently +at a greater distance, rise over the centre of the line; +but the object which first catches the eye is a sullen cloud of +black smoke brooding over the northern half of it, and which +issues from the belfry of a church.</p> + +<p>It is Venice.</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_92" href="#FnAnchor_92"><span class="fn">92</span></a> Garbett on Design, p. 74.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page358"></a>358</span></p> +<hr class="art" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page359"></a>359</span></p> + +<h3>APPENDIX.</h3> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_1"></a>1. FOUNDATION OF VENICE.</h5> + + +<p><span class="sc">I find</span> the chroniclers agree in fixing the year 421, if any: +the following sentence from De Monaci may perhaps interest the +reader.</p> + +<p>“God, who punishes the sins of men by war sorrows, and +whose ways are past finding out, willing both to save the innocent +blood, and that a great power, beneficial to the whole world, +should arise in a spot strange beyond belief, moved the chief +men of the cities of the Venetian province (which from the +border of Pannonia, extended as far as the Adda, a river of Lombardy), +both in memory of past, and in dread of future distress, +to establish states upon the nearer islands of the inner gulphs of +the Adriatic, to which, in the last necessity, they might retreat +for refuge. And first Galienus de Fontana, Simon de Glauconibus, +and Antonius Calvus, or, as others have it, Adalburtus +Falerius, Thomas Candiano, Comes Daulus, Consuls of Padua, +by the command of their King and the desire of the citizens, +laid the foundations of the new commonwealth, under good +auspices, on the island of the Rialto, the highest and nearest to +the mouth of the deep river now called the Brenta, in the year +of Our Lord, as many writers assure us, four hundred and twenty-one, +on the 25th day of March.”<a name="FnAnchor_93" href="#Footnote_93"><span class="sp">93</span></a></p> + +<p>It is matter also of very great satisfaction to know that Venice +was founded by good Christians: “La qual citade è stada hedificada +da veri e boni Christiani:” which information I found in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page360"></a>360</span> +the MS. copy of the Zancarol Chronicle, in the library of St. +Mark’s.</p> + +<p>Finally the conjecture as to the origin of her name, recorded +by Sansovino, will be accepted willingly by all who love Venice: +“Fu interpretato da alcuni, che questa voce <span class="sc">Venetia</span> voglia dire +<i>VENI ETIAM</i>, cioè, vieni ancora, e ancora, percioche quante +volte verrai, sempre vedrai nuove cose, enuove bellezze.”</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_2"></a>2. POWER OF THE DOGES.</h5> + +<p>The best authorities agree in giving the year 697 as that of +the election of the first doge, Paul Luke Anafeste. He was +elected in a general meeting of the commonalty, tribunes, and +clergy, at Heraclea, “divinis rebus procuratis,” as usual, in all +serious work, in those times. His authority is thus defined by +Sabellico, who was not likely to have exaggerated it:—“Penes +quem decus omne imperii ac majestas esset: cui jus concilium +cogendi quoties de republica aliquid referri oporteret; qui tribunos +annuos in singulas insulas legeret, a quibus ad Ducem +esset provocatio. Cæterum, si quis dignitatem, ecclesiam, sacerdotumve +cleri populique suffragio esset adeptus, ita demum id +ratum haberetur si dux ipse auctor factus esset.” (Lib. I.) The +last clause is very important, indicating the subjection of the +ecclesiastical to the popular and ducal (or patrician) powers, +which, throughout her career, was one of the most remarkable +features in the policy of Venice. The appeal from the tribunes +to the doge is also important; and the expression “decus omne +imperii,” if of somewhat doubtful force, is at least as energetic +as could have been expected from an historian under the influence +of the Council of Ten.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_3" id="app_3"></a>3. SERRAR DEL CONSIGLIO.</h5> + +<p>The date of the decree which made the right of sitting in the +grand council hereditary, is variously given; the Venetian historians +themselves saying as little as they can about it. The thing +was evidently not accomplished at once, several decrees following +in successive years: the Council of Ten was established without +any doubt in 1310, in consequence of the conspiracy of Tiepolo. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page361"></a>361</span> +The Venetian verse, quoted by Mutinelli (Annali Urbani di +Venezia, p. 153), is worth remembering.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p class="ind03">“Del mille tresento e diese</p> +<p>A mezzo el mese delle ceriese</p> +<p>Bagiamonte passò el ponte</p> +<p>E per esso fo fatto el Consegio di diese.”</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The reader cannot do better than take 1297 as the date of the +beginning of the change of government, and this will enable him +exactly to divide the 1100 years from the election of the first doge +into 600 of monarchy and 500 of aristocracy. The coincidence +of the numbers is somewhat curious; 697 the date of the establishment +of the government, 1297 of its change, and 1797 of its fall.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_4"></a>4. S. PIETRO DI CASTELLO.</h5> + +<p>It is credibly reported to have been founded in the seventh +century, and (with somewhat less of credibility) in a place where +the Trojans, conducted by Antenor, had, after the destruction +of Troy, built “un castello, chiamato prima Troja, poscia Olivolo, +interpretato, luogo pieno.” It seems that St. Peter appeared in +person to the Bishop of Heraclea, and commanded him to found +in his honor, a church in that spot of the rising city on the +Rialto: “ove avesse veduto una mandra di buoi e di pecore pascolare +unitamente. Questa fu la prodigiosa origine della Chiesa +di San Pietro, che poscia, o rinovata, o ristaurata, da Orso Participazio +IV Vescovo Olivolense, divenne la Cattedrale della +Nuova citta.” (Notizie Storiche delle Chiese e Monasteri di +Venezia. Padua, 1758.) What there was so prodigious in oxen +and sheep feeding together, we need St. Peter, I think, to tell +us. The title of Bishop of Castello was first taken in 1091: St. +Mark’s was not made the cathedral church till 1807. It may be +thought hardly fair to conclude the small importance of the old +St. Pietro di Castello from the appearance of the wretched +modernisations of 1620. But these modernisations are spoken +of as improvements; and I find no notice of peculiar beauties in +the older building, either in the work above quoted, or by Sansovino; +who only says that when it was destroyed by fire (as everything +in Venice was, I think, about three times in a century), in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page362"></a>362</span> +the reign of Vital Michele, it was rebuilt “with good thick walls, +maintaining, <i>for all that</i>, the order of its arrangement taken +from the Greek mode of building.” This does not seem the +description of a very enthusiastic effort to rebuild a highly ornate +cathedral. The present church is among the least interesting in +Venice; a wooden bridge, something like that of Battersea on a +small scale, connects its island, now almost deserted, with a +wretched suburb of the city behind the arsenal; and a blank level +of lifeless grass, rotted away in places rather than trodden, is extended +before its mildewed façade and solitary tower.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_5"></a>5. PAPAL POWER IN VENICE.</h5> + +<p>I may refer the reader to the eleventh chapter of the twenty-eighth +book of Daru for some account of the restraints to which +the Venetian clergy were subjected. I have not myself been able +to devote any time to the examination of the original documents +bearing on this matter, but the following extract from a letter +of a friend, who will not at present permit me to give his name, +but who is certainly better conversant with the records of the +Venetian State than any other Englishman, will be of great value +to the general reader:—</p> + +<p>“In the year 1410, or perhaps at the close of the thirteenth +century, churchmen were excluded from the Grand Council and +declared ineligible to civil employment; and in the same year, +1410, the Council of Ten, with the Giunta, decreed that whenever +in the state’s councils matters concerning ecclesiastical +affairs were being treated, all the kinsfolk of Venetian beneficed +clergymen were to be expelled; and, in the year 1434, the <span class="scs">RELATIONS</span> +of churchmen were declared ineligible to the post of ambassador +at Rome.</p> + +<p>“The Venetians never gave possession of any see in their +territories to bishops unless they had been proposed to the pope +by the senate, which elected the patriarch, who was supposed, at +the end of the sixteenth century, to be liable to examination by +his Holiness, as an act of confirmation of installation; but of +course, everything depended on the relative power at any given +time of Rome and Venice: for instance, a few days after the +accession of Julius II., in 1503, he requests the Signory, cap in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page363"></a>363</span> +hand, to <span class="scs">ALLOW</span> him to confer the archbishopric of Zara on a +dependant of his, one Cipico the Bishop of Famagosta. Six +years later, when Venice was overwhelmed by the leaguers of +Cambrai, that furious pope would assuredly have conferred Zara +on Cipico <span class="scs">WITHOUT</span> asking leave. In 1608, the rich Camaldolite +Abbey of Vangadizza, in the Polesine, fell vacant through the +death of Lionardo Loredano, in whose family it had been since +some while. The Venetian ambassador at Rome received the +news on the night of the 28th December; and, on the morrow, +requested Paul IV. not to dispose of this preferment until he +heard from the senate. The pope talked of ‘poor cardinals’ +and of his nephew, but made no positive reply; and, as Francesco +Contarini was withdrawing, said to him: ‘My Lord ambassador, +with this opportunity we will inform you that, to our very great +regret, we understand that the chiefs of the Ten mean to turn +sacristans; for they order the parish priests to close the church +doors at the Ave Maria, and not to ring the bells at certain hours. +This is precisely the sacristan’s office; we don’t know why their +lordships, by printed edicts, which we have seen, choose to interfere +in this matter. This is pure and mere ecclesiastical jurisdiction; +and even, in case of any inconvenience arising, is there +not the patriarch, who is at any rate your own; why not apply +to him, who could remedy these irregularities? These are matters +which cause us very notable displeasure; we say so that they +may be written and known: it is decided by the councils and +canons, and not uttered by us, that whosoever forms any resolve +against the ecclesiastical liberty, cannot do so without incurring +censure: and in order that Father Paul [Bacon’s correspondent] +may not say hereafter, as he did in his past writings, that our +predecessors assented either tacitly or by permission, we declare +that we do not give our assent, nor do we approve it; nay, we +blame it, and let this be announced in Venice, so that, for the +rest, every one may take care of his own conscience. St. Thomas +à Becket, whose festival is celebrated this very day, suffered +martyrdom for the ecclesiastical liberty; it is our duty likewise +to support and defend it.’ Contarini says: ‘This remonstrance +was delivered with some marks of anger, which induced me to +tell him how the tribunal of the most excellent the Lords chiefs +of the Ten is in our country supreme; that it does not do its +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page364"></a>364</span> +business unadvisedly, or condescend to unworthy matters; and +that, therefore, should those Lords have come to any public +declaration of their will, it must be attributed to orders anterior, +and to immemorial custom and authority, recollecting that, on +former occasions likewise, similar commissions were given to +prevent divers incongruities; wherefore an upright intention, +such as this, ought not to be taken in any other sense than its +own, especially as the parishes of Venice were in her own gift,’ +&c. &c. The pope persisted in bestowing the abbacy on his +nephew, but the republic would not give possession, and a compromise +was effected by its being conferred on the Venetian +Matteo Priuli, who allowed the cardinal five thousand ducats per +annum out of its revenues. A few years before this, this very +same pope excommunicated the State, because she had imprisoned +two churchmen for heinous crimes; the strife lasted for +more than a year, and ended through the mediation of Henry +IV., at whose suit the prisoners were delivered to the French +ambassador, who made them over to a papal commissioner.</p> + +<p>“In January, 1484, a tournament was in preparation on St. +Mark’s Square: some murmurs had been heard about the distribution +of the prizes having been pre-arranged, without regard to +the ‘best man.’ One of the chiefs of the Ten was walking along +Rialto on the 28th January, when a young priest, twenty-two +years old, a sword-cutlers son, and a Bolognese, and one of +Perugia, both men-at-arms under Robert Sansoverino, fell upon +a clothier with drawn weapons. The chief of the Ten desired +they might be seized, but at the moment the priest escaped; he +was, however, subsequently retaken, and in that very evening +hanged by torch-light between the columns with the two soldiers. +Innocent VIII. was less powerful than Paul IV.; Venice weaker +in 1605 than in 1484.</p> + +<p>“* * * The exclusion from the Grand Council, whether at +the end of the fourteenth or commencement of the following +century, of the Venetian ecclesiastics, (as induced either by the +republic’s acquisitions on the main land then made, and which, +through the rich benefices they embraced, might have rendered +an ambitious churchman as dangerous in the Grand Council as a +victorious condottiere; or from dread of their allegiance being +divided between the church and their country, it being acknowledged +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page365"></a>365</span> +that no man can serve two masters,) did not render them +hostile to their fatherland, whose interests were, with very few +exceptions, eagerly fathered by the Venetian prelates at Rome, +who, in their turn, received all honor at Venice, where state receptions +given to cardinals of the houses of Correr, Grimani, +Cornaro, Pisani, Contarini, Zeno, Delfino, and others, vouch for +the good understanding that existed between the ‘Papalists’ and +their countrymen. The Cardinal Grimani was instrumental in +detaching Julius II. from the league of Cambrai; the Cardinal +Cornaro always aided the state to obtain anything required of +Leo X.; and, both before and after their times, all Venetians +that had a seat in the Sacred College were patriots rather than +pluralists: I mean that they cared more for Venice than for their +benefices, admitting thus the soundness of that policy which denied +them admission into the Grand Council.”</p> + +<p>To this interesting statement, I shall add, from the twenty-eighth +book of Daru, two passages, well deserving consideration +by us English in present days:</p> + +<p>“Pour être parfaitement assurée contre les envahissements +de la puissance ecclésiastique, Venise commença par lui ôter +tout prétexte d’intervenir dans les affaires de l’Etat; elle resta +invariablement fidèle au dogme. Jamais aucune des opinions +nouvelles n’y prit la moindre faveur; jamais aucun hérésiarque +ne sortit de Venise. Les conciles, les disputes, les guerres de +religion, se passèrent sans qu’elle y prit jamais la moindre part. +Inébranlable dans sa foi, elle ne fut pas moins invariable dans +son système de tolérance. Non seulement ses sujets de la religion +grecque conservèrent l’exercise de leur culte, leurs évêques et +leurs prêtres; mais les Protestantes, les Arméniens, les Mahomitans, +les Juifs, toutes les religions, toutes les sectes qui se trouvaient +dans Venise, avaient des temples, et la sépulture dans les +églises n’était point refusé aux hérétiques. Une police vigilante +s’appliquait avec le même soin à éteindre les discordes, et à empêcher +les fanatiques et les novateurs de troubler l’Etat.”</p> + +<p style="letter-spacing: 3em; " class="center">********</p> + +<p>“Si on considère que c’est dans un temps où presque toutes +les nations tremblaient devant la puissance pontificale, que les +Vénitiens surent tenir leur clergé dans la dépendance, et braver +souvent les censures ecclésiastiques et les interdits, sans encourir +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page366"></a>366</span> +jamais aucun reproche sur la pureté de leur foi, on sera forcé de +reconnaître que cette république avait dévancé de loin les autres +peuples dans cette partie de la science du gouvernement. La +fameuse maxime, ‘Siamo veneziani, poi christiani,’ n’était qu’une +formule énergique qui ne prouvait point quils voulussent placer +l’intérêt de la religion après celui de l’Etat, mais qui annonçait +leur invariable résolution de ne pas souffrir qu’un pouvoir +étranger portât atteinte aux droits de la république.</p> + +<p>“Dans toute la durée de son existence, an milieu des revers +comme dans la prospérité cet inébranlable gouvernement ne fit +qu’une seule fois des concessions à la cour de Borne, et ce fut +pour détacher le Pape Jules II. de la ligue de Cambrai.</p> + +<p>“Jamais il ne se relâcha du soin de tenir le clergé dans une +nullité absolue relativement aux affaires politiques; on peut en +juger par la conduite qu’il tint avec l’ordre religieux le plus redoutable +et le plus accoutumé à s’immiscer dans les secrets de +l’Etat et dans les intérêts temporels.”</p> + +<p>The main points, next stated, respecting the Jesuits are, +that the decree which permitted their establishment in Venice +required formal renewal every three years; that no Jesuit could +stay in Venice more than three years; that the slightest disobedience +to the authority of the government was instantly punished +by imprisonment; that no Venetian could enter the order without +express permission from the government; that the notaries +were forbidden to sanction any testamentary disposal of property +to the Jesuits; finally, that the heads of noble families were forbidden +to permit their children to be educated in the Jesuits’ +colleges, on pain of degradation from their rank.</p> + +<p>Now, let it be observed that the enforcement of absolute exclusion +of the clergy from the councils of the state, dates exactly +from the period which I have marked for the commencement of +the decline of the Venetian power. The Romanist is welcome +to his advantage in this fact, if advantage it be; for I do not +bring forward the conduct of the senate of Venice, as Daru does, +by way of an example of the general science of government. +The Venetians accomplished therein what we ridiculously call a +separation of “Church and State” (as if the State were not, in +all Christendom, necessarily also the Church<a name="FnAnchor_94" href="#Footnote_94"><span class="sp">94</span></a>), but <i>ought</i> to call +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page367"></a>367</span> +a separation of lay and clerical officers. I do not point out this +separation as subject of praise, but as the witness borne by the +Venetians against the principles of the Papacy. If they were to +blame, in yielding to their fear of the ambitious spirit of Rome +so far as to deprive their councils of all religious element, what +excuse are we to offer for the state, which, with Lords Spiritual +of her own faith already in her senate, permits the polity of +Rome to be represented by lay members? To have sacrificed +religion to mistaken policy, or purchased security with ignominy, +would have been no new thing in the world’s history; but to be +at once impious and impolitic, and seek for danger through dishonor, +was reserved for the English parliament of 1829.</p> + +<p>I am glad to have this opportunity of referring to, and farther +enforcing, the note on this subject which, not without deliberation, +I appended to the “Seven Lamps;” and of adding to it the +following passage, written by my father in the year 1839, and +published in one of the journals of that year:—a passage remarkable +as much for its intrinsic value, as for having stated, twelve +years ago, truths to which the mind of England seems but now, +and that slowly, awakening.</p> + +<p>“We hear it said, that it cannot be merely the Roman religion +that causes the difficulty [respecting Ireland], for we were once +all Roman Catholics, and nations abroad of this faith are not as +the Irish. It is totally overlooked, that when we were so, our +government was despotic, and fit to cope with this dangerous +religion, as most of the Continental governments yet are. In +what Roman Catholic state, or in what age of Roman Catholic +England, did we ever hear of such agitation as now exists in +Ireland by evil men taking advantage of an anomalous state of +things—Roman Catholic ignorance in the people, Protestant +toleration in the government? We have yet to feel the tremendous +difficulty in which Roman Catholic emancipation has involved +us. Too late we discover that a Roman Catholic is wholly +incapable of being safely connected with the British constitution, +as it now exists, <i>in any near relation</i>. The present constitution +is no longer fit for Catholics. It is a creature essentially Protestant, +growing with the growth, and strengthening with the +strength, of Protestantism. So entirely is Protestantism interwoven +with the whole frame of our constitution and laws, that I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page368"></a>368</span> +take my stand on this, against all agitators in existence, that the +Roman religion is totally incompatible with the British constitution. +We have, in trying to combine them, got into a maze of +difficulties; we are the worse, and Ireland none the better. It +is idle to talk of municipal reform or popular Lords Lieutenant. +The mild sway of a constitutional monarchy is not strong enough +for a Roman Catholic population. The stern soul of a Republican +would not shrink from sending half the misguided population +and all the priests into exile, and planting in their place an industrious +Protestant people. But you cannot do this, and you +cannot convert the Irish, nor by other means make them fit to +wear the mild restraints of a Protestant Government. It was, +moreover, a strange logic that begot the idea of admitting +Catholics to administer any part of our laws or constitution. +It was admitted by all that, by the very act of abandoning the +Roman religion, we became a free and enlightened people. It +was only by throwing off the yoke of that slavish religion that +we attained to the freedom of thought which has advanced us in +the scale of society. We are so much advanced by adopting and +adhering to a reformed religion, that to prove our liberal and +unprejudiced views, we throw down the barriers betwixt the two +religions, of which the one is the acknowledged cause of light +and knowledge, the other the cause of darkness and ignorance. +We are so much altered to the better by leaving this +people entirely, and giving them neither part nor lot amongst +us, that it becomes proper to mingle again with them. We have +found so much good in leaving them, that we deem it the best +possible reason for returning to be among them. No fear of +their Church again shaking us, with all our light and knowledge. +It is true, the most enlightened nations fell under the spell of +her enchantments, fell into total darkness and superstition; but +no fear of us—we are too well informed! What miserable reasoning! +infatuated presumption! I fear me, when the Roman +religion rolled her clouds of darkness over the earlier ages, that +she quenched as much light, and knowledge, and judgment as +our modern Liberals have ever displayed. I do not expect a +statesman to discuss the point of Transubstantiation betwixt +Protestant and Catholic, nor to trace the narrow lines which divide +Protestant sectarians from each other; but can any statesman +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page369"></a>369</span> +that shall have taken even a cursory glance at the face of +Europe, hesitate a moment on the choice of the Protestant religion? +If he unfortunately knew nothing of its being the true +one in regard to our eternal interests, he is at least bound to see +whether it be not the best for the worldly prosperity of a people. +He may be but moderately imbued with pious zeal for the salvation +of a kingdom, but at least he will be expected to weigh the +comparative merits of religion, as of law or government; and +blind, indeed, must he be if he does not discern that, in neglecting +to cherish the Protestant faith, or in too easily yielding to +any encroachments on it, he is foregoing the use of a state engine +more powerful than all the laws which the uninspired legislators +of the earth have ever promulgated, in promoting the happiness, +the peace, prosperity, and the order, the industry, and the wealth, +of a people; in forming every quality valuable or desirable in a +subject or a citizen; in sustaining the public mind at that point +of education and information that forms the best security for the +state, and the best preservative for the freedom of a people, +whether religious or political.”</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">XX.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_20"><img src="images/img369.jpg" width="650" height="209" alt="WALL VEIL DECORATION." title="WALL VEIL DECORATION." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">WALL VEIL DECORATION.<br /> + <span class="f80">CA’ TREVISAN.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_6"></a>6. RENAISSANCE ORNAMENTS.</h5> + +<p>There having been three principal styles of architecture in +Venice,—the Greek or Byzantine, the Gothic, and the Renaissance, +it will be shown, in the sequel, that the Renaissance itself +is divided into three correspondent families: Renaissance engrafted +on Byzantine, which is earliest and best; Renaissance engrafted +on Gothic, which is second, and second best; Renaissance +on Renaissance, which is double darkness, and worst of all. The +palaces in which Renaissance is engrafted on Byzantine are those +noticed by Commynes: they are characterized by an ornamentation +very closely resembling, and in some cases identical with, +early Byzantine work; namely, groups of colored marble circles +inclosed in interlacing bands. I have put on the opposite page +one of these ornaments, from the Ca’ Trevisan, in which a most +curious and delicate piece of inlaid design is introduced into a +band which is almost exactly copied from the church of Theotocos +at Constantinople, and correspondent with others in St. +Mark’s. There is also much Byzantine feeling in the treatment +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page370"></a>370</span> +of the animals, especially in the two birds of the lower compartment, +while the peculiar curves of the cinque cento leafage are +visible in the leaves above. The dove, alighted, with the olive-branch +plucked off, is opposed to the raven with restless expanded +wings. Beneath are evidently the two sacrifices “of every +clean fowl and of every clean beast.” The color is given with +green and white marbles, the dove relieved on a ground of greyish +green, and all is exquisitely finished.</p> + +<p>In <a href="#plate_1">Plate I.</a>, <a href="#page013">p. 13</a>, the upper figure is from the same palace +(Ca’ Trevisan), and it is very interesting in its proportions. If +we take five circles in geometrical proportion, each diameter +being <span class="correction" title="originally 'two-thsrds'">two-thirds</span> of the diameter next above it, and arrange the +circles so proportioned, in contact with each other, in the manner +shown in the plate, we shall find that an increase quite imperceptible +in the diameter of the circles in the angles, will enable +us to inscribe the whole in a square. The lines so described will +then run in the centre of the white bands. I cannot be certain +that this is the actual construction of the Trevisan design, because +it is on a high wall surface, where I could not get at its +measurements; but I found this construction exactly coincide +with the lines of my eye sketch. The lower figure in <a href="#plate_1">Plate I.</a> is +from the front of the Ca’ Dario, and probably struck the eye +of Commynes in its first brightness. Salvatico, indeed, considers +both the Ca’ Trevisan (which once belonged to Bianca +Cappello) and the Ca’ Dario, as buildings of the sixteenth century. +I defer the discussion of the question at present, but have, +I believe, sufficient reason for assuming the Ca’ Dario to have +been built about 1486, and the Ca’ Trevisan not much later.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_7"></a>7. VARIETIES OF THE ORDERS.</h5> + +<p>Of these phantasms and grotesques, one of some general importance +is that commonly called Ionic, of which the idea was +taken (Vitruvius says) from a woman’s hair, curled; but its lateral +processes look more like rams’ horns: be that as it may, it +is a mere piece of agreeable extravagance, and if, instead of rams’ +horns, you put ibex horns, or cows’ horns, or an ass’s head at +once, you will have ibex orders, or ass orders, or any number of +other orders, one for every head or horn. You may have heard +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page371"></a>371</span> +of another order, the Composite, which is Ionic and Corinthian +mixed, and is one of the worst of ten thousand forms referable +to the Corinthian as their head: it may be described as a spoiled +Corinthian. And you may have also heard of another order, +called Tuscan (which is no order at all, but a spoiled Doric): and +of another called Roman Doric, which is Doric more spoiled, +both which are simply among the most stupid variations ever invented +upon forms already known. I find also in a French pamphlet +upon architecture,<a name="FnAnchor_95" href="#Footnote_95"><span class="sp">95</span></a> as applied to shops and dwelling houses, +a sixth order, the “Ordre Français,” at least as good as any of +the three last, and to be hailed with acclamation, considering +whence it comes, there being usually more tendency on the other +side of the channel to the confusion of “orders” than their multiplication: +but the reader will find in the end that there are in +very deed only two orders, of which the Greek, Doric, and Corinthian +are the first examples, and <i>they</i> not perfect, nor in anywise +sufficiently representative of the vast families to which they belong; +but being the first and the best known, they may properly +be considered as the types of the rest. The essential distinctions +of the two great orders he will find explained in §§ <span class="scs">XXXV</span>. and +<span class="scs">XXXVI</span>. of <a href="#chap_27">Chap. XXVII.</a>, and in the passages there referred to; +but I should rather desire that these passages might be read in the +order in which they occur.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_8" id="app_8"></a>8. THE NORTHERN ENERGY.</h5> + +<p>I have sketched above, in the First Chapter, the great events +of architectural history in the simplest and fewest words I could; +but this indraught of the Lombard energies upon the Byzantine +rest, like a wild north wind descending into a space of rarified +atmosphere, and encountered by an Arab simoom from the south, +may well require from us some farther attention; for the differences +in all these schools are more in the degrees of their impetuosity +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page372"></a>372</span> +and refinement (these qualities being, in most cases, in +inverse ratio, yet much united by the Arabs) than in the style of +the ornaments they employ. The same leaves, the same animals, +the same arrangement, are used by Scandinavians, ancient Britons, +Saxons, Normans, Lombards, Romans, Byzantines, and +Arabians; all being alike descended through classic Greece from +Egypt and Assyria, and some from Phœnicia. The belts which +encompass the Assyrian bulls, in the hall of the British Museum, +are the same as the belts of the ornaments found in Scandinavian +tumuli; their method of ornamentation is the same as that of the +gate of Mycenæ, and of the Lombard pulpit of St. Ambrogio of +Milan, and of the church of Theotocos at Constantinople; the +essential differences among the great schools are their differences +of temper and treatment, and science of expression; it is absurd +to talk of Norman ornaments, and Lombard ornaments, and +Byzantine ornaments, as formally distinguished; but there is +irreconcileable separation between Arab temper, and Lombard +temper, and Byzantine temper.</p> + +<p>Now, as far as I have been able to compare the three schools, +it appears to me that the Arab and Lombard are both distinguished +from the Byzantine by their energy and love of excitement, +but the Lombard stands alone in his love of jest: Neither +an Arab nor Byzantine ever jests in his architecture; the Lombard +has great difficulty in ever being thoroughly serious; thus +they represent three conditions of humanity, one in perfect rest, +the Byzantine, with exquisite perception of grace and dignity; +the Arab, with the same perception of grace, but with a restless +fever in his blood; the Lombard, equally energetic, but not +burning himself away, capable of submitting to law, and of enjoying +jest. But the Arabian feverishness infects even the Lombard +in the South, showing itself, however, in endless invention, +with a refreshing firmness and order directing the whole of it. +The excitement is greatest in the earliest times, most of all shown +in St. Michele of Pavia; and I am strongly disposed to connect +much of its peculiar manifestations with the Lombard’s habits of +eating and drinking, especially his carnivorousness. The Lombard +of early times seems to have been exactly what a tiger +would be, if you could give him love of a joke, vigorous imagination, +strong sense of justice, fear of hell, knowledge of northern +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page373"></a>373</span> +mythology, a stone den, and a mallet and chisel; fancy him pacing +up and down in the said den to digest his dinner, and striking +on the wall, with a new fancy in his head, at every turn, and you +have the Lombardic sculptor. As civilisation increases the supply +of vegetables, and shortens that of wild beasts, the excitement +diminishes; it is still strong in the thirteenth century at Lyons +and Rouen; it dies away gradually in the later Gothic, and is +quite extinct in the fifteenth century.</p> + +<p>I think I shall best illustrate this general idea by simply +copying the entries in my diary which were written when, after +six months’ close study of Byzantine work in Venice, I came +again to the Lombard work of Verona and Pavia. There are +some other points alluded to in these entries not pertaining to the +matter immediately in hand; but I have left them, as they will be +of use hereafter.</p> + +<p>“(Verona.) Comparing the arabesque and sculpture of the +Duomo here with St. Mark’s, the first thing that strikes one is +the low relief, the second, the greater motion and spirit, with +infinitely less grace and science. With the Byzantine, however +rude the cutting, every line is lovely, and the animals or men are +placed in any attitudes which secure ornamental effect, sometimes +impossible ones, always severe, restrained, or languid. With the +Romanesque workmen all the figures show the effort (often successful) +to express energetic action; hunting chiefly, much fighting, +and both spirited; some of the dogs running capitally, +straining to it, and the knights hitting hard, while yet the faces +and drawing are in the last degree barbarous. At Venice all is +graceful, fixed, or languid; the eastern torpor is in every line,—the +mark of a school formed on severe traditions, and keeping to +them, and never likely or desirous to rise beyond them, but +with an exquisite sense of beauty, and much solemn religious +faith.</p> + +<p>“If the Greek outer archivolt of St. Mark’s is Byzantine, the +law is somewhat broken by its busy domesticity; figures engaged +in every trade, and in the preparation of viands of all kinds; a +crowded kind of London Christmas scene, interleaved (literally) +by the superb balls of leafage, unique in sculpture; but even this +is strongly opposed to the wild war and chase passion of the +Lombard. Farther, the Lombard building is as sharp, precise, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page374"></a>374</span> +and accurate, as that of St. Mark’s is careless. The Byzantines +seem to have been too lazy to put their stones together; and, in +general, my first impression on coming to Verona, after four +months in Venice, is of the exquisitely neat masonry and perfect +<i>feeling</i> here; a style of Gothic formed by a combination of Lombard +surface ornament with Pisan Gothic, than which nothing +can possibly be more chaste, pure, or solemn.”</p> + +<p>I have said much of the shafts of the entrance to the crypt of +St. Zeno;<a name="FnAnchor_96" href="#Footnote_96"><span class="sp">96</span></a> the following note of the sculptures on the archivolt +above them is to our present purpose:</p> + +<p>“It is covered by very light but most effective bas-reliefs of +jesting subject:—two cocks carrying on their shoulders a long +staff to which a fox (?) is tied by the legs, hanging down between +them: the strut of the foremost cock, lifting one leg at right +angles to the other, is delicious. Then a stag hunt, with a centaur +horseman drawing a bow; the arrow has gone clear through +the stag’s throat, and is sticking there. Several capital hunts +with dogs, with fruit trees between, and birds in them; the +leaves, considering the early time, singularly well set, with the +edges outwards, sharp, and deep cut: snails and frogs filling up +the intervals, as if suspended in the air, with some saucy puppies +on their hind legs, two or three nondescript beasts; and, finally, +on the centre of one of the arches on the south side, an elephant +and castle,—a very strange elephant, yet cut as if the carver had +seen one.”</p> + +<p>Observe this elephant and castle; we shall meet with him +farther north.</p> + +<p>“These sculptures of St. Zeno are, however, quite quiet and +tame compared with those of St. Michele of Pavia, which are +designed also in a somewhat gloomier mood; significative, as I +think, of indigestion. (Note that they are much earlier than +St. Zeno; of the seventh century at latest. There is more of +nightmare, and less of wit in them.) Lord Lindsay has described +them admirably, but has not said half enough; the state of mind +represented by the west front is more that of a feverish dream, +than resultant from any determined architectural purpose, or +even from any definite love and delight in the grotesque. One +capital is covered with a mass of grinning heads, other heads +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page375"></a>375</span> +grow out of two bodies, or out of and under feet; the creatures +are all fighting, or devouring, or struggling which shall be uppermost, +and yet in an ineffectual way, as if they would fight for +ever, and come to no decision. Neither sphinxes nor centaurs +did I notice, nor a single peacock (I believe peacocks to be purely +Byzantine), but mermaids with <i>two</i> tails (the sculptor having +perhaps seen double at the time), strange, large fish, apes, stags +(bulls?), dogs, wolves, and horses, griffins, eagles, long-tailed +birds (cocks?), hawks, and dragons, without end, or with a dozen +of ends, as the case may be; smaller birds, with rabbits, and small +nondescripts, filling the friezes. The actual leaf, which is used +in the best Byzantine mouldings at Venice, occurs in parts of +these Pavian designs. But the Lombard animals are all <i>alive</i>, +and fiercely alive too, all impatience and spring: the Byzantine +birds peck idly at the fruit, and the animals hardly touch it with +their noses. The cinque cento birds in Venice hold it up daintily, +like train-bearers; the birds in the earlier Gothic peck at +it hungrily and naturally; but the Lombard beasts gripe at it +like tigers, and tear it off with writhing lips and glaring eyes. +They are exactly like Jip with the bit of geranium, worrying +imaginary cats in it.”</p> + +<p>The notice of the leaf in the above extract is important,—it +is the vine-leaf; used constantly both by Byzantines and Lombards, +but by the latter with especial frequency, though at this +time they were hardly able to indicate what they meant. It +forms the most remarkable generality of the St. Michele decoration; +though, had it not luckily been carved on the façade, +twining round a stake, and with grapes, I should never have +known what it was meant for, its general form being a succession +of sharp lobes, with incised furrows to the point of each. +But it is thrown about in endless change; four or five varieties +of it might be found on every cluster of capitals: and not content +with this, the Lombards hint the same form even in their +griffin wings. They love the vine very heartily.</p> + +<p>In St. Michele of Lucca we have perhaps the noblest instance +in Italy of the Lombard spirit in its later refinement. It is +some four centuries later than St. Michele of Pavia, and the +method of workmanship is altogether different. In the Pavian +church, nearly all the ornament is cut in a coarse sandstone, in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page376"></a>376</span> +bold relief: a darker and harder stone (I think, not serpentine, +but its surface is so disguised by the lustre of ages that I could +not be certain) is used for the capitals of the western door, which +are especially elaborate in their sculpture;—two devilish apes, +or apish devils, I know not which, with bristly moustaches and +edgy teeth, half-crouching, with their hands impertinently on +their knees, ready for a spit or a spring if one goes near them; +but all is pure bossy sculpture; there is no inlaying, except of +some variegated tiles in the shape of saucers set concave (an ornament +used also very gracefully in St. Jacopo of Bologna): and +the whole surface of the church is enriched with the massy reliefs, +well preserved everywhere above the reach of human +animals, but utterly destroyed to some five or six feet from the +ground; worn away into large cellular hollows and caverns, some +almost deep enough to render the walls unsafe, entirely owing to +the uses to which the recesses of the church are dedicated by +the refined and high-minded Italians. But St. Michele of Lucca +is wrought entirely in white marble and green serpentine; there +is hardly any relieved sculpture except in the capitals of the +shafts and cornices, and all the designs of wall ornament are +inlaid with exquisite precision—white on dark ground; the +ground being cut out and filled with serpentine, the figures left +in solid marble. The designs of the Pavian church are encrusted +on the walls; of the Lucchese, incorporated with them; small +portions of real sculpture being introduced exactly where the +eye, after its rest on the flatness of the wall, will take most delight +in the piece of substantial form. The entire arrangement is +perfect beyond all praise, and the morbid restlessness of the old +designs is now appeased. Geometry seems to have acted as a +febrifuge, for beautiful geometrical designs are introduced amidst +the tumult of the hunt; and there is no more seeing double, +nor ghastly monstrosity of conception; no more ending of everything +in something else; no more disputing for spare legs among +bewildered bodies; no more setting on of heads wrong side foremost. +The fragments have come together: we are out of the +Inferno with its weeping down the spine; we are in the fair +hunting-fields of the Lucchese mountains (though they had their +tears also),—with horse, and hound, and hawk; and merry blast +of the trumpet.—Very strange creatures to be hunted, in all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page377"></a>377</span> +truth; but still creatures with a single head, and that on their +shoulders, which is exactly the last place in the Pavian church +where a head is to be looked for.</p> + +<p>My good friend Mr. Cockerell wonders, in one of his lectures, +why I give so much praise to this “crazy front of Lucca.” But +it is not crazy; not by any means. Altogether sober, in comparison +with the early Lombard work, or with our Norman. +Crazy in one sense it is: utterly neglected, to the breaking of +its old stout heart; the venomous nights and salt frosts of the +Maremma winters have their way with it—“Poor Tom’s a +cold!” The weeds that feed on the marsh air, have twisted +themselves into its crannies; the polished fragments of serpentine +are spit and rent out of their cells, and lie in green ruins +along its ledges; the salt sea winds have eaten away the fair +shafting of its star window into a skeleton of crumbling rays. +It cannot stand much longer; may Heaven only, in its benignity, +preserve it from restoration, and the sands of the Serchio give it +honorable grave.</p> + +<p>In the “Seven Lamps,” <a href="#plate_6">Plate VI.</a>, I gave a faithful drawing +of one of its upper arches, to which I must refer the reader; for +there is a marked piece of character in the figure of the horseman +on the left of it. And in making this reference, I would say a few +words about those much abused plates of the “Seven Lamps."” +They are black, they are overbitten, they are hastily drawn, they +are coarse and disagreeable; how disagreeable to many readers +I venture not to conceive. But their truth is carried to an extent +never before attempted in architectural drawing. It does +not in the least follow that because a drawing is delicate, or looks +careful, it has been carefully drawn from the thing represented; +in nine instances out of ten, careful and delicate drawings are +made at home. It is not so easy as the reader, perhaps, imagines, +to finish a drawing altogether on the spot, especially of details +seventy feet from the ground; and any one who will try the +position in which I have had to do some of my work—standing, +namely, on a cornice or window sill, holding by one arm round +a shaft, and hanging over the street (or canal, at Venice), with +my sketch-book supported against the wall from which I was +drawing, by my breast, so as to leave my right hand free—will +not thenceforward wonder that shadows should be occasionally +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page378"></a>378</span> +carelessly laid in, or lines drawn with some unsteadiness. But, +steady, or infirm, the sketches of which those plates in the +“Seven Lamps” are fac-similes, were made from the architecture +itself, and represent that architecture with its actual shadows at +the time of day at which it was drawn, and with every fissure +and line of it as they now exist; so that when I am speaking of +some new point, which perhaps the drawing was not intended to +illustrate, I can yet turn back to it with perfect certainty that +if anything be found in it bearing on matters now in hand, I may +depend upon it just as securely as if I had gone back to look again +at the building.</p> + +<p>It is necessary that my readers should understand this +thoroughly, and I did not before sufficiently explain it; but I +believe I can show them the use of this kind of truth, now that +we are again concerned with this front of Lucca. They will find a +drawing of the entire front in Gally Knight’s “Architecture of +Italy.” It may serve to give them an idea of its general disposition, +and it looks very careful and accurate; but every bit of the +ornament on it is <i>drawn out of the artist’s head</i>. There is not +<i>one line</i> of it that exists on the building. The reader will therefore, +perhaps, think my ugly black plate of somewhat more value, +upon the whole, in its rough veracity, than the other in its delicate +fiction.<a name="FnAnchor_97" href="#Footnote_97"><span class="sp">97</span></a></p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">XXI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter"> + <a name="plate_21"><img src="images/img378.jpg" width="419" height="650" alt="WALL VEIL DECORATION." title="WALL VEIL DECORATION." /></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="caption">WALL VEIL DECORATION.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class="mb">As, however, I made a drawing of another part of the church +somewhat more delicately, and as I do not choose that my favorite +church should suffer in honor by my coarse work, I have had +this, as far as might be, fac-similied by line engraving (<a href="#plate_21">Plate +XXI.</a>). It represents the southern side of the lower arcade of the +west front; and may convey some idea of the exquisite finish and +grace of the whole; but the old plate, in the “Seven Lamps,” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page379"></a>379</span> +gives a nearer view of one of the upper arches, and a more faithful +impression of the present aspect of the work, and especially +of the seats of the horsemen; the limb straight, and well down +on the stirrup (the warrior’s seat, observe, not the jockey’s), with +a single pointed spur on the heel. The bit of the lower cornice +under this arch I could not see, and therefore had not drawn; +it was supplied from beneath another arch. I am afraid, however, +the reader has lost the thread of my story while I have been +recommending my veracity to him. I was insisting upon the +healthy tone of this Lucca work as compared with the old spectral +Lombard friezes. The apes of the Pavian church ride without +stirrups, but all is in good order and harness here: civilisation +had done its work; there was reaping of corn in the Val d’Arno, +though rough hunting still upon its hills. But in the north, +though a century or two later, we find the forests of the Rhone, +and its rude limestone cotes, haunted by phantasms still (more +meat-eating, then, I think). I do not know a more interesting +group of cathedrals than that of Lyons, Vienne, and Valencia: +a more interesting indeed, generally, than beautiful; but there +is a row of niches on the west front of Lyons, and a course of +panelled decoration about its doors, which is, without exception, +the most exquisite piece of Northern Gothic I ever beheld, and +with which I know nothing that is even comparable, except the +work of the north transept of Rouen, described in the “Seven +Lamps,” p. 159; work of about the same date, and exactly the same +plan; quatrefoils filled with grotesques, but somewhat less finished +in execution, and somewhat less wild in imagination. I wrote +down hastily, and in their own course, the subjects of some of +the quatrefoils of Lyons; of which I here give the reader the +sequence:—</p> + + +<p class="nomarg"> 1. Elephant and castle; less graphic than the St. Zeno one.</p> + +<p class="nomarg"> 2. A huge head walking on two legs, turned backwards, +hoofed; the head has a horn behind, with drapery +over it, which ends in another head.</p> + +<p class="nomarg"> 3. A boar hunt; the boar under a tree, very spirited.</p> + +<p class="nomarg"> 4. A bird putting its head between its legs to bite its own +tail, which ends in a head.</p> + +<p class="nomarg"> 5. A dragon with a human head set on the wrong way.</p> + +<p class="nomarg"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page380"></a>380</span></p> + +<p class="nomarg"> 6. St. Peter awakened by the angel in prison; full of spirit, +the prison picturesque, with a trefoiled arch, the angel +eager, St. Peter startled, and full of motion.</p> + +<p class="nomarg"> 7. St. Peter led out by the angel.</p> + +<p class="nomarg"> 8. The miraculous draught of fishes; fish and all, in the +small space.</p> + +<p class="nomarg"> 9. A large leaf, with two snails rampant, coming out of nautilus +shells, with grotesque faces, and eyes at the ends +of their horns.</p> + +<p class="nomarg">10. A man with an axe striking at a dog’s head, which comes +out of a nautilus shell: the rim of the shell branches +into a stem with two large leaves.</p> + +<p class="nomarg">11. Martyrdom of St. Sebastian; his body very full of arrows.</p> + +<p class="nomarg">12. Beasts coming to ark; Noah opening a kind of wicker +cage.</p> + +<p class="nomarg">13. Noah building the ark on shores.</p> + +<p class="nomarg">14. A vine leaf with a dragon’s head and tail, the one biting +the other.</p> + +<p class="nomarg">15. A man riding a goat, catching a flying devil.</p> + +<p class="nomarg">16. An eel or muraena growing into a bunch of flowers, which +turns into two wings.</p> + +<p class="nomarg">17. A sprig of hazel, with nuts, thrown all around the quatrefoils +with a squirrel in centre, apparently attached to +the tree only by its enormous tail, richly furrowed into +hair, and nobly sweeping.</p> + +<p class="nomarg">18. Four hares fastened together by the ears, galloping in a +circle. Mingled with these grotesques are many <i>sword</i> +and <i>buckler</i> combats, the bucklers being round and +conical like a hat; I thought the first I noticed, +carried by a man at full gallop on horseback, had been +a small umbrella.</p> + +<p class="mt">This list of subjects may sufficiently illustrate the feverish +character of the Northern Energy; but influencing the treatment +of the whole there is also the Northern love of what is called the +Grotesque, a feeling which I find myself, for the present, quite +incapable either of analysing or defining, though we all have a +distinct idea attached to the word: I shall try, however, in the +next volume.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page381"></a>381</span></p> +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_9"></a>9. WOODEN CHURCHES OF THE NORTH.</h5> + +<p>I cannot pledge myself to this theory of the origin of the +vaulting shaft, but the reader will find some interesting confirmations +of it in Dahl’s work on the wooden churches of Norway. +The inside view of the church of Borgund shows the timber construction +of one shaft run up through a crossing architrave, and +continued into the clerestory; while the church of Urnes is in +the exact form of a basilica; but the wall above the arches is +formed of planks, with a strong upright above each capital. The +passage quoted from Stephen Eddy’s Life of Bishop Wilfrid, at +p. 86 of Churton’s “Early English Church,” gives us one of the +transformations or petrifactions of the wooden Saxon churches. +“At Ripon he built a new church of <i>polished stone</i>, with columns +variously ornamented, and porches.” Mr. Churton adds: “It +was perhaps in bad imitation of the marble buildings he had seen +in Italy, that he washed the walls of this original York Minster, +and made them ‘whiter than snow.’”</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_10"></a>10. CHURCH OF ALEXANDRIA.</h5> + +<p>The very cause which enabled the Venetians to possess themselves +of the body of St. Mark, was the destruction of the church +by the caliph for the <i>sake of its marbles</i>: the Arabs and +Venetians, though bitter enemies, thus building on the same +models; these in reverence for the destroyed church, and those +with the very pieces of it. In the somewhat prolix account of +the matter given in the Notizie Storiche (above quoted) the main +points are, that “il Califa de’ Saraceni, per fabbricarsi un Palazzo +presse di Babilonia, aveva ordinato che dalle Chiese d’ Cristiani +si togliessero i più scelti marmi;” and that the Venetians, “videro +sotto i loro occhi flagellarsi crudelmente un Cristiano per aver +infranto un marmo.” I heartily wish that the same kind of +punishment were enforced to this day, for the same sin.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_11"></a>11. RENAISSANCE LANDSCAPE.</h5> + +<p>I am glad here to re-assert opinions which it has grieved me +to be suspected of having changed. The calmer tone of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page382"></a>382</span> +second volume of “Modern Painters,” as compared with the +first, induced, I believe, this suspicion, very justifiably, in the +minds of many of its readers. The difference resulted, however, +from the simple fact, that the first was written in great haste +and indignation, for a special purpose and time;—the second, +after I had got engaged, almost unawares, in inquiries which +could not be hastily nor indignantly pursued; my opinions remaining +then, and remaining now, altogether unchanged on the +subject which led me into the discussion. And that no farther +doubt of them may be entertained by any who may think them +worth questioning, I shall here, once for all, express them in the +plainest and fewest words I can. I think that J. M. W. Turner +is not only the greatest (professed) landscape painter who ever +lived, but that he has in him as much as would have furnished all +the rest with such power as they had; and that if we put Nicolo +Poussin, Salvator, and our own Gainsborough out of the group, he +would cut up into Claudes, Cuyps, Ruysdaels, and such others, by +uncounted bunches. I hope this is plainly and strongly enough +stated. And farther, I like his later pictures, up to the year +1845, the best; and believe that those persons who only like his +early pictures do not, in fact, like him at all. They do <i>not</i> like +that which is essentially <i>his</i>. They like that in which he resembles +other men; which he had learned from Loutherbourg, Claude, +or Wilson; that which is indeed his own, they do not care for. +Not that there is not much of his own in his early works; they are +all invaluable in their way; but those persons who can find no +beauty in his strangest fantasy on the Academy walls, cannot +distinguish the peculiarly Turneresque characters of the earlier +pictures. And, therefore, I again state here, that I think his +pictures painted between the years 1830 and 1845 his greatest; +and that his entire power is best represented by such pictures as +the Temeraire, the Sun of Venice going to Sea, and others, +painted exactly at the time when the public and the press were +together loudest in abuse of him.</p> + +<p style="width: 20%; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-top: 2em; margin-left: 2em; + float: right; clear: right; text-align: left; text-indent: 0;"> +Turner. Tintoret.<br /> +Massaccio.<br /> +John Bellini.<br /> +Albert Durer.<br /> +Giorgione.<br /> +Paul Veronese.<br /> +Titian.<br /> +Rubens.<br /> +Correggio.<br /> +Orcagna.<br /> +Benozzo Gozzoli.<br /> +Giotto.<br /> +Raffaelle.<br /> +Perugino.</p> + +<p>I desire, however, the reader to observe that I said, above, +<i>professed</i> landscape painters, among whom, perhaps, I should +hardly have put Gainsborough. The landscape of the great +figure painters is often majestic in the highest degree, and Tintoret’s +especially shows exactly the same power and feeling as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page383"></a>383</span> +Turner’s. If with Turner I were to rank the historical painters +as landscapists, estimating rather the power they show, than +the actual value of the landscape they +produced, I should class those, whose +landscapes I have studied, in some such +order as this at the side of the page:—associating +with the landscape of Perugino +that of Francia and Angelico, and +the other severe painters of religious +subjects. I have put Turner and Tintoret +side by side, not knowing which is, +in landscape, the greater; I had nearly +associated in the same manner the noble +names of John Bellini and Albert Durer; +but Bellini must be put first, for his +profound religious peace yet not separated +from the other, if but that we +might remember his kindness to him in +Venice; and it is well we should take note of it here, for it furnishes +us with a most interesting confirmation of what was said +in the text respecting the position of Bellini as the last of the +religious painters of Venice. The following passage is quoted in +Jackson’s “Essay on Wood-engraving,” from Albert Durer’s +Diary:</p> + +<p>“I have many good friends among the Italians who warn me +not to eat or drink with their painters, of whom several are my +enemies, and copy my picture in the church, and others of mine, +wherever they can find them, and yet they blame them, <i>and say +they are not according to ancient art, and therefore not good</i>. +Giovanni Bellini, however, has praised me highly to several gentlemen, +and wishes to have something of my doing: he called on +me himself, and requested that I would paint a picture for him, +for which, he said, he would pay me well. People are all surprised +that I should be so much thought of by a person of his +reputation: he is very old, but is still the best painter of them +all.”</p> + +<p>A choice little piece of description this, of the Renaissance +painters, side by side with the good old Venetian, who was soon +to leave them to their own ways. The Renaissance men are seen +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page384"></a>384</span> +in perfection, envying, stealing, and lying, but without wit +enough to lie to purpose.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_12"></a>12. ROMANIST MODERN ART.</h5> + +<p>It is of the highest importance, in these days, that Romanism +should be deprived of the miserable influence which its pomp and +picturesqueness have given it over the weak sentimentalism of +the English people; I call it a miserable influence, for of all +motives to sympathy with the Church of Rome, this I unhesitatingly +class as the basest: I can, in some measure, respect the other +feelings which have been the beginnings of apostasy; I can respect +the desire for unity which would reclaim the Romanist by love, +and the distrust of his own heart which subjects the proselyte to +priestly power; I say I can respect these feelings, though I cannot +pardon unprincipled submission to them, nor enough wonder at +the infinite fatuity of the unhappy persons whom they have betrayed:—Fatuity, +self-inflicted, and stubborn in resistance to +God’s Word and man’s reason!—to talk of the authority of the +Church, as if the Church were anything else than the whole +company of Christian men, or were ever spoken of in Scripture<a name="FnAnchor_98" href="#Footnote_98"><span class="sp">98</span></a> +as other than a company to be taught and fed, not to teach and +feed.—Fatuity! to talk of a separation of Church and State, as +if a Christian state, and every officer therein, were not necessarily +a part of the Church,<a name="FnAnchor_99" href="#Footnote_99"><span class="sp">99</span></a> and as if any state officer could do his +duty without endeavoring to aid and promote religion, or any +clerical officer do his duty without seeking for such aid and accepting +it:—Fatuity! to seek for the unity of a living body of +truth and trust in God, with a dead body of lies and trust in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page385"></a>385</span> +wood, and thence to expect anything else than plague, and consumption +by worms undying, for both. Blasphemy as well as +fatuity! to ask for any better interpreter of God’s Word than +God, or to expect knowledge of it in any other way than the +plainly ordered way: if <i>any</i> man will do he shall know. But +of all these fatuities, the basest is the being lured into the Romanist +Church by the glitter of it, like larks into a trap by +broken glass; to be blown into a change of religion by the whine +of an organ-pipe; stitched into a new creed by gold threads on +priests’ petticoats; jangled into a change of conscience by the +chimes of a belfry. I know nothing in the shape of error so dark +as this, no imbecility so absolute, no treachery so contemptible. +I had hardly believed that it was a thing possible, though vague +stories had been told me of the effect, on some minds, of mere +scarlet and candles, until I came on this passage in Pugin’s +“Remarks on articles in the Rambler”:—</p> + +<p>“Those who have lived in want and privation are the best +qualified to appreciate the blessings of plenty; thus, those who +have been devout and sincere members of the separated portion +of the English Church; who have prayed, and hoped, and loved, +through all the poverty of the maimed rites which it has retained—to +them does the realisation of all their longing desires appear +truly ravishing. * * * Oh! then, what delight! what joy +unspeakable! when one of the solemn piles is presented to them, +in all its pristine life and glory!—the stoups are filled to the +brim; the rood is raised on high; the screen glows with sacred +imagery and rich device; the niches are filled; the altar is replaced, +sustained by sculptured shafts, the relics of the saints +repose beneath, the body of Our Lord is enshrined on its consecrated +stone; the lamps of the sanctuary burn bright; the +saintly portraitures in the glass windows shine all gloriously; and +the albs hang in the oaken ambries, and the cope chests are +filled with orphreyed baudekins; and pix and pax, and chrismatory +are there, and thurible, and cross.”</p> + +<p>One might have put this man under a pix, and left him, one +should have thought; but he has been brought forward, and +partly received, as an example of the effect of ceremonial splendor +on the mind of a great architect. It is very necessary, therefore, +that all those who have felt sorrow at this should know at once +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page386"></a>386</span> +that he is not a great architect, but one of the smallest possible +or conceivable architects; and that by his own account and +setting forth of himself. Hear him:—</p> + +<p>“I believe, as regards architecture, few men have been so unfortunate +as myself. I have passed my life in thinking of fine +things, studying fine things, designing fine things, and realising +very poor ones. I have never had the chance of producing a +single fine ecclesiastical building, except my own church, where I +am both paymaster and architect; but everything else, either +for want of adequate funds or injudicious interference and +control, or some other contingency, is more or less a failure.<span style="letter-spacing: 2em; "> ***</span></p> + +<p>“St. George’s was spoilt by the very instructions laid down +by the committee, that it was to hold 3000 people on the floor at +a limited price; in consequence, height, proportion, everything, +was sacrificed to meet these conditions. Nottingham was spoilt by +the style being restricted to lancet,—a period well suited to a +Cistercian abbey in a secluded vale, but very unsuitable for the +centre of a crowded town.<span style="letter-spacing: 2em; "> ***</span></p> + +<p>“Kirkham was spoilt through several hundred pounds being +reduced on the original estimate; to effect this, which was a +great sum in proportion to the entire cost, the area of the church +was contracted, the walls lowered, tower and spire reduced, the +thickness of walls diminished, and stone arches omitted.” (Remarks, +&c., by A. Welby Pugin: Dolman, 1850.)</p> + +<p>Is that so? Phidias can niche himself into the corner of a +pediment, and Raffaelle expatiate within the circumference of a +clay platter; but Pugin is inexpressible in less than a cathedral? +Let his ineffableness be assured of this, once for all, that no difficulty +or restraint ever happened to a man of real power, but his +power was the more manifested in the contending with, or conquering +it; and that there is no field so small, no cranny so contracted, +but that a great spirit can house and manifest itself +therein. The thunder that smites the Alp into dust, can gather +itself into the width of a golden wire. Whatever greatness there +was in you, had it been Buonarroti’s own, you had room enough +for it in a single niche: you might have put the whole power of +it into two feet cube of Caen stone. St. George’s was not high +enough for want of money? But was it want of money that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page387"></a>387</span> +made you put that blunt, overloaded, laborious ogee door into +the side of it? Was it for lack of funds that you sunk the tracery +of the parapet in its clumsy zigzags? Was it in parsimony that +you buried its paltry pinnacles in that eruption of diseased +crockets? or in pecuniary embarrassment that you set up the +belfry foolscaps, with the mimicry of dormer windows, which +nobody can ever reach nor look out of? Not so, but in mere incapability +of better things.</p> + +<p>I am sorry to have to speak thus of any living architect; and +there is much in this man, if he were rightly estimated, which +one might both regard and profit by. He has a most sincere +love for his profession, a heartily honest enthusiasm for pixes +and piscinas; and though he will never design so much as a pix +or a piscina thoroughly well, yet better than most of the experimental +architects of the day. Employ him by all means, but on +small work. Expect no cathedrals from him; but no one, at +present, can design a better finial. That is an exceedingly beautiful +one over the western door of St. George’s; and there is +some spirited impishness and switching of tails in the supporting +figures at the imposts. Only do not allow his good designing of +finials to be employed as an evidence in matters of divinity, nor +thence deduce the incompatibility of Protestantism and art. I +should have said all that I have said above, of artistical apostasy, +if Giotto had been now living in Florence, and if art were still +doing all that it did once for Rome. But the grossness of the +error becomes incomprehensible as well as unpardonable, when +we look to what level of degradation the human intellect has +sunk at this instant in Italy. So far from Romanism now producing +anything greater in art, it cannot even preserve what has +been given to its keeping. I know no abuses of precious inheritance +half so grievous, as the abuse of all that is best in art +wherever the Romanist priesthood gets possession of it. It +amounts to absolute infatuation. The noblest pieces of mediæval +sculpture in North Italy, the two griffins at the central (west) +door of the cathedral of Verona, were daily permitted to be brought +into service, when I was there in the autumn of 1849, by a +washerwoman living in the Piazza, who tied her clothes-lines to +their beaks: and the shafts of St. Mark’s at Venice were used +by a salesman of common caricatures to fasten his prints upon +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page388"></a>388</span> +(Compare <a href="#app_25">Appendix 25</a>); and this in the face of the continually +passing priests: while the quantity of noble art annually destroyed +in altarpieces by candle-droppings, or perishing by pure +brutality of neglect, passes all estimate. I do not know, as I +have repeatedly stated, how far the splendor of architecture, or +other art, is compatible with the honesty and usefulness of religious +service. The longer I live, the more I incline to severe +judgment in this matter, and the less I can trust the sentiments +excited by painted glass and colored tiles. But if there be indeed +value in such things, our plain duty is to direct our strength +against the superstition which has dishonored them; there are +thousands who might possibly be benefited by them, to whom +they are now merely an offence, owing to their association with +idolatrous ceremonies. I have but this exhortation for all who +love them,—not to regulate their creeds by their taste in colors, +but to hold calmly to the right, at whatever present cost to their +imaginative enjoyment; sure that they will one day find in +heavenly truth a brighter charm than in earthly imagery, and +striving to gather stones for the eternal building, whose walls +shall be salvation, and whose gates shall be praise.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_13"></a>13. MR. FERGUSSON’S SYSTEM.</h5> + +<p>The reader may at first suppose this division of the attributes of +buildings into action, voice, and beauty, to be the same division +as Mr. Fergusson’s, now well known, of their merits, into technic, +æsthetic and phonetic.</p> + +<p>But there is no connection between the two systems; mine, +indeed, does not profess to be a system, it is a mere arrangement +of my subject, for the sake of order and convenience in its treatment: +but, as far as it goes, it differs altogether from Mr. Fergusson’s +in these two following respects:—</p> + +<p>The action of a building, that is to say its standing or consistence, +depends on its good construction; and the first part +of the foregoing volume has been entirely occupied with the consideration +of the constructive merit of buildings: but construction +is not their only technical merit. There is as much of +technical merit in their expression, or in their beauty, as in +their construction. There is no more mechanical or technical +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page389"></a>389</span> +admirableness in the stroke of the painter who covers them with +fresco, than in the dexterity of the mason who cements their +stones: there is just as much of what is technical in their beauty, +therefore, as in their construction; and, on the other hand, there +is often just as much intellect shown in their construction as +there is in either their expression or decoration. Now Mr. +Fergusson means by his “Phonetic” division, whatever expresses +intellect: my constructive division, therefore, includes part of +his phonetic: and my expressive and decorative divisions include +part of his technical.</p> + +<p>Secondly, Mr. Fergusson tries to make the same divisions fit +the <i>subjects</i> of art, and art itself; and therefore talks of technic, +æsthetic, and phonetic, <i>arts</i>, (or, translating the Greek,) of artful +arts, sensitive arts, and talkative arts; but I have nothing to +do with any division of the arts, I have to deal only with the +merits of <i>buildings</i>. As, however, I have been led into reference +to Mr. Fergusson’s system, I would fain say a word or two to +effect Mr. Fergusson’s extrication from it. I hope to find in him +a noble ally, ready to join with me in war upon affectation, falsehood, +and prejudice, of every kind: I have derived much instruction +from his most interesting work, and I hope for much more +from its continuation; but he must disentangle himself from his +system, or he will be strangled by it; never was anything so ingeniously +and hopelessly wrong throughout; the whole of it is +founded on a confusion of the instruments of man with his capacities.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fergusson would have us take—</p> + +<p class="nomarg">“First, man’s muscular action or power.” (Technics.)</p> + +<p class="nomarg">“Secondly, those developments of sense <i>by</i> which <i>he does!!</i> +as much as by his muscles.” (Æsthetics.)</p> + +<p class="nomarg">“Lastly, his intellect, or to confine this more correctly to its +external action, <i>his power of speech!!!</i>” (Phonetics.)</p> + +<p>Granting this division of humanity correct, or sufficient, the +writer then most curiously supposes that he may arrange the arts +as if there were some belonging to each division of man,—never +observing that every art must be governed by, and addressed to, +one division, and executed by another; executed by the muscular, +addressed to the sensitive or intellectual; and that, to be an +art at all, it must have in it work of the one, and guidance from +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page390"></a>390</span> +the other. If, by any lucky accident, he had been led to arrange +the arts, either by their objects, and the things to which they +are addressed, or by their means, and the things by which they +are executed, he would have discovered his mistake in an instant. +As thus:—</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="margin-left: 1em; " summary="Contents"> + +<tr><td style="text-align: right; vertical-align: top; "> +<p>These arts are addressed to the,—</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p>or executed by,—</p></td> + +<td> +<p>Muscles!!</p> +<p>Senses,</p> +<p>Intellect;</p> +<p>Muscles,</p> +<p>Senses!!</p> +<p>Intellect.</p></td></tr></table> + +<p>Indeed it is true that some of the arts are in a sort addressed to +the muscles, surgery for instance; but this is not among Mr. +Fergusson’s technic, but his politic, arts! and all the arts may, +in a sort, be said to be performed by the senses, as the senses guide +both muscles and intellect in their work: but they guide them +as they receive information, or are standards of accuracy, but +not as in themselves capable of action. Mr. Fergusson is, I believe, +the first person who has told us of senses that act or do, they +having been hitherto supposed only to sustain or perceive. The +weight of error, however, rests just as much in the original division +of man, as in the endeavor to fit the arts to it. The slight +omission of the soul makes a considerable difference when it +begins to influence the final results of the arrangement.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fergusson calls morals and religion “Politick arts” (as if +religion were an art at all! or as if both were not as necessary to +individuals as to societies); and therefore, forming these into a +body of arts by themselves, leaves the best of the arts to do without +the soul and the moral feeling as rest they may. Hence +“expression,” or “phonetics,” is of intellect only (as if men +never expressed their <i>feelings!</i>); and then, strangest and worst +of all, intellect is entirely resolved into talking! There can be +no intellect but it must talk, and all talking must be intellectual. +I believe people do sometimes talk without understanding; and I +think the world would fare ill if they never understood without +talking. The intellect is an entirely silent faculty, and has nothing +to do with parts of speech any more than the moral part has. +A man may feel and know things without expressing either the +feeling or knowledge; and the talking is a <i>muscular</i> mode of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page391"></a>391</span> +communicating the workings of the intellect or heart—muscular, +whether it be by tongue or by sign, or by carving or writing, +or by expression of feature; so that to divide a man into muscular +and talking parts, is to divide him into body in general, and +tongue in particular, the endless confusion resulting from which +arrangement is only less marvellous in itself, than the resolution +with which Mr. Fergusson has worked through it, and in spite +of it, up to some very interesting and suggestive truths; although +starting with a division of humanity which does not in the least +raise it above the brute, for a rattlesnake has his muscular, æsthetic, +and talking part as much as man, only he talks with his tail, +and says, “I am angry with you, and should like to bite you,” +more laconically and effectively than any phonetic biped could, +were he so minded. And, in fact, the real difference between +the brute and man is not so much that the one has fewer means +of expression than the other, as that it has fewer thoughts to express, +and that we do not understand its expressions. Animals +can talk to one another intelligibly enough when they have anything +to say, and their captains have words of command just as +clear as ours, and better obeyed. We have indeed, in watching +the efforts of an intelligent animal to talk to a human being, a +melancholy sense of its dumbness; but the fault is still in its intelligence, +more than in its tongue. It has not wit enough to +systematise its cries or signs, and form them into language.</p> + +<p>But there is no end to the fallacies and confusions of Mr. +Fergusson’s arrangement. It is a perfect entanglement of gun-cotton, +and explodes into vacuity wherever one holds a light to +it. I shall leave him to do so with the rest of it for himself, and +should perhaps have left it to his own handling altogether, but for +the intemperateness of the spirit with which he has spoken on a +subject perhaps of all others demanding gentleness and caution. +No man could more earnestly have desired the changes lately introduced +into the system of the University of Oxford than I did +myself: no man can be more deeply sensible than I of grievous +failures in the practical working even of the present system: but +I believe that these failures may be almost without exception +traced to one source, the want of evangelical, and the excess of +rubrical religion among the tutors; together with such rustinesses +and stiffnesses as necessarily attend the continual operation +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page392"></a>392</span> +of any intellectual machine. The fault is, at any rate, far +less in the system than in the imperfection of its administration; +and had it been otherwise, the terms in which Mr. Fergusson +speaks of it are hardly decorous in one who can but be imperfectly +acquainted with its working. They are sufficiently answered +by the structure of the essay in which they occur; for if +the high powers of mind which its author possesses had been +subjected to the discipline of the schools, he could not have +wasted his time on the development of a system which their simplest +formulæ of logic would have shown him to be untenable.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fergusson will, however, find it easier to overthrow his +system than to replace it. Every man of science knows the difficulty +of arranging a <i>reasonable</i> system of classification, in any +subject, by any one group of characters; and that the best classifications +are, in many of their branches, convenient rather than +reasonable: so that, to any person who is really master of his +subject, many different modes of classification will occur at different +times; one of which he will use rather than another, according +to the point which he has to investigate. I need only +instance the three arrangements of minerals, by their external +characters, and their positive or negative bases, of which the first +is the most useful, the second the most natural, the third the +most simple; and all in several ways unsatisfactory.</p> + +<p>But when the subject becomes one which no single mind can +grasp, and which embraces the whole range of human occupation +and enquiry, the difficulties become as great, and the methods as +various, as the uses to which the classification might be put; and +Mr. Fergusson has entirely forgotten to inform us what is the +object to which his arrangements are addressed. For observe: +there is one kind of arrangement which is based on the rational +connection of the sciences or arts with one another; an arrangement +which maps them out like the rivers of some great country, +and marks the points of their junction, and the direction and +force of their united currents; and this without assigning to any +one of them a superiority above another, but considering them +all as necessary members of the noble unity of human science +and effort. There is another kind of classification which contemplates +the order of succession in which they might most usefully be +presented to a single mind, so that the given mind should obtain +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page393"></a>393</span> +the most effective and available knowledge of them all: and, +finally, the most usual classification contemplates the powers of +mind which they each require for their pursuit, the objects to +which they are addressed, or with which they are concerned; and +assigns to each of them a rank superior or inferior, according to +the nobility of the powers they require, or the grandeur of the +subjects they contemplate.</p> + +<p>Now, not only would it be necessary to adopt a different +classification with respect to each of these great intentions, but +it might be found so even to vary the order of the succession +of sciences in the case of every several mind to which they were +addressed; and that their rank would also vary with the power +and specific character of the mind engaged upon them. I once +heard a very profound mathematician remonstrate against the +impropriety of Wordsworth’s receiving a pension from government, +on the ground that he was “only a poet.” If the study +of mathematics had always this narrowing effect upon the sympathies, +the science itself would need to be deprived of the rank +usually assigned to it; and there could be no doubt that, in the +effect it had on the mind of this man, and of such others, it was +a very contemptible science indeed. Hence, in estimating the +real rank of any art or science, it is necessary for us to conceive +it as it would be grasped by minds of every order. There are +some arts and sciences which we underrate, because no one has +risen to show us with what majesty they may be invested; and +others which we overrate, because we are blinded to their general +meanness by the magnificence which some one man has thrown +around them: thus, philology, evidently the most contemptible +of all the sciences, has been raised to unjust dignity by Johnson.<a name="FnAnchor_100" href="#Footnote_100"><span class="sp">100</span></a> +And the subject is farther complicated by the question of usefulness; +for many of the arts and sciences require considerable intellectual +power for their pursuit, and yet become contemptible +by the slightness of what they accomplish: metaphysics, for instance, +exercising intelligence of a high order, yet useless to the +mass of mankind, and, to its own masters, dangerous. Yet, as it has +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page394"></a>394</span> +become so by the want of the true intelligence which its inquiries +need, and by substitution of vain subtleties in its stead, it may +in future vindicate for itself a higher rank than a man of common +sense usually concedes to it.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the mere attempt at arrangement must be useful, +even where it does nothing more than develop difficulties. +Perhaps the greatest fault of men of learning is their so often +supposing all other branches of science dependent upon or inferior +to their own best beloved branch; and the greatest deficiency of +men comparatively unlearned, their want of perception of the +connection of the branches with each other. He who holds the +tree only by the extremities, can perceive nothing but the separation +of its sprays. It must always be desirable to prove to +those the equality of rank, to these the closeness of sequence, of +what they had falsely supposed subordinate or separate. And, +after such candid admission of the co-equal dignity of the truly +noble arts and sciences, we may be enabled more justly to estimate +the inferiority of those which indeed seem intended for +the occupation of inferior powers and narrower capacities. In +<a href="#app_14">Appendix 14</a>, following, some suggestions will be found as to +the principles on which classification might be based; but the +arrangement of all the arts is certainly not a work which could +with discretion be attempted in the Appendix to an essay on a +branch of one of them.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_14"></a>14. DIVISIONS OF HUMANITY.</h5> + +<p>The reader will probably understand this part of the subject +better if he will take the trouble briefly to consider the actions +of the mind and body of man in the sciences and arts, which +give these latter the relations of rank usually attributed to them.</p> + +<p>It was above observed (<a href="#app_13">Appendix 13</a>) that the arts were +generally ranked according to the nobility of the powers they +require, that is to say, the quantity of the being of man which +they engaged or addressed. Now their rank is not a very important +matter as regards each other, for there are few disputes +more futile than that concerning the respective dignity of arts, +all of which are necessary and honorable. But it is a very important +matter as regards themselves; very important whether +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page395"></a>395</span> +they are practised with the devotion and regarded with the respect +which are necessary or due to their perfection. It does not +at all matter whether architecture or sculpture be the nobler art; +but it matters much whether the thought is bestowed upon buildings, +or the feeling is expressed in statues, which make either +deserving of our admiration. It is foolish and insolent to imagine +that the art which we ourselves practise is greater than any other; +but it is wise to take care that in our own hands it is as noble as +we can make it. Let us take some notice, therefore, in what +degrees the faculties of man may be engaged in his several arts: +we may consider the entire man as made up of body, soul, and +intellect (Lord Lindsay, meaning the same thing, says inaccurately—sense, +intellect, and spirit—forgetting that there is a moral +sense as well as a bodily sense, and a spiritual body as well as a +natural body, and so gets into some awkward confusion, though +right in the main points). Then, taking the word soul as a +short expression of the moral and responsible part of being, each +of these three parts has a passive and active power. The body +has senses and muscles; the soul, feeling and resolution; the +intellect, understanding and imagination. The scheme may be +put into tabular form, thus:—</p> + +<table class="nobctr" width="80%" summary="data"> + +<tr class="f80"> <td class="tc1"> </td> + <td class="tc1">Passive or Receptive Part.</td> + <td class="tc1">Active or Motive Part.</td></tr> + +<tr> <td class="tc5"> +<p>Body</p> +<p>Soul</p> +<p>Intellect</p> </td> + +<td class="tc5"> +<p>Senses.</p> +<p>Feeling.</p> +<p>Understanding.</p> </td> + +<td class="tc5"> +<p>Muscles.</p> +<p>Resolution.</p> +<p>Imagination.</p></td></tr></table> + + +<p>In this scheme I consider memory a part of understanding, and +conscience I leave out, as being the voice of God in the heart, +inseparable from the system, yet not an essential part of it. The +sense of beauty I consider a mixture of the Senses of the body +and soul.</p> + +<p>Now all these parts of the human system have a reciprocal +action on one another, so that the true perfection of any of them +is not possible without some relative perfection of the others, and +yet any one of the parts of the system may be brought into a +morbid development, inconsistent with the perfection of the +others. Thus, in a healthy state, the acuteness of the senses +quickens that of the feelings, and these latter quicken the understanding, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page396"></a>396</span> +and then all the three quicken the imagination, and +then all the four strengthen the resolution; while yet there is a +danger, on the other hand, that the encouraged and morbid feeling +may weaken or bias the understanding, or that the over +shrewd and keen understanding may shorten the imagination, or +that the understanding and imagination together may take place +of, or undermine, the resolution, as in Hamlet. So in the mere +bodily frame there is a delightful perfection of the senses, consistent +with the utmost health of the muscular system, as in the +quick sight and hearing of an active savage: another false delicacy +of the senses, in the Sybarite, consequent on their over indulgence, +until the doubled rose-leaf is painful; and this inconsistent +with muscular perfection. Again; there is a perfection of +muscular action consistent with exquisite sense, as in that of the +fingers of a musician or of a painter, in which the muscles are +guided by the slightest feeling of the strings, or of the pencil: +another perfection of muscular action inconsistent with acuteness +of sense, as in the effort of battle, in which a soldier does not +perceive his wounds. So that it is never so much the question, +what is the solitary perfection of a given part of the man, as +what is its balanced perfection in relation to the whole of him: +and again, the perfection of any single power is not merely to +be valued by the mere rank of the power itself, but by the harmony +which it indicates among the other powers. Thus, for +instance, in an archer’s glance along his arrow, or a hunter’s +raising of his rifle, there is a certain perfection of sense and +finger which is the result of mere practice, of a simple bodily +perfection; but there is a farther value in the habit which results +from the resolution and intellect necessary to the forming of it: +in the hunter’s raising of his rifle there is a quietness implying +far more than mere practice,—implying courage, and habitual +meeting of danger, and presence of mind, and many other such +noble characters. So also in a musician’s way of laying finger on +his instrument, or a painter’s handling of his pencil, there are +many qualities expressive of the special sensibilities of each, +operating on the production of the habit, besides the sensibility +operating at the moment of action. So that there are three distinct +stages of merit in what is commonly called mere bodily +dexterity: the first, the dexterity given by practice, called command +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page397"></a>397</span> +of tools or of weapons; the second stage, the dexterity or +grace given by character, as the gentleness of hand proceeding +from modesty or tenderness of spirit, and the steadiness of it +resulting from habitual patience coupled with decision, and the +thousand other characters partially discernible, even in a man’s +writing, much more in his general handiwork; and, thirdly, there +is the perfection of action produced by the operation of <i>present</i> +strength, feeling, or intelligence on instruments thus <i>previously</i> +perfected, as the handling of a great painter is rendered more +beautiful by his immediate care and feeling and love of his subject, +or knowledge of it, and as physical strength is increased by +strength of will and greatness of heart. Imagine, for instance, +the difference in manner of fighting, and in actual muscular +strength and endurance, between a common soldier, and a man +in the circumstances of the Horatii, or of the temper of Leonidas.</p> + +<p class="mb">Mere physical skill, therefore, the mere perfection and power +of the body as an instrument, is manifested in three stages:</p> + +<table class="nobctr" summary="data"><tr><td> +<p>First, Bodily power by practice;</p> +<p>Secondly, Bodily power by moral habit;</p> +<p>Thirdly, Bodily power by immediate energy;</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="mt noind">and the arts will be greater or less, cæteris paribus, according to +the degrees of these dexterities which they admit. A smith’s +work at his anvil admits little but the first; fencing, shooting, +and riding, admit something of the second; while the fine arts +admit (merely through the channel of the <span class="correction" title="corrected from 'bodly'">bodily</span> dexterities) an +expression almost of the whole man.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, though the higher arts <i>admit</i> this higher bodily +perfection, they do not all <i>require</i> it in equal degrees, but can +dispense with it more and more in proportion to their dignity. +The arts whose chief element is bodily dexterity, may be classed +together as arts of the third order, of which the highest will be +those which admit most of the power of moral habit and energy, +such as riding and the management of weapons; and the rest may +be thrown together under the general title of handicrafts, of +which it does not much matter which are the most honorable, +but rather, which are the most necessary and least injurious to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page398"></a>398</span> +health, which it is not our present business to examine. Men +engaged in the practice of these are <span class="correction" title="changed from 'calld'">called</span> artizans, as opposed +to artists, who are concerned with the fine arts.</p> + +<p>The next step in elevation of art is the addition of the intelligences +which have no connection with bodily dexterity; as, for +instance, in hunting, the knowledge of the habits of animals +and their places of abode; in architecture, of mathematics; in +painting, of harmonies of color; in music, of those of sound; all +this pure science being joined with readiness of expedient in +applying it, and with shrewdness in apprehension of difficulties, +either present or probable.</p> + +<p>It will often happen that intelligence of this kind is possessed +without bodily dexterity, or the need of it; one man directing +and another executing, as for the most part in architecture, war, +and seamanship. And it is to be observed, also, that in proportion +to the dignity of the art, the bodily dexterities needed even +in its subordinate agents become less important, and are more +and more replaced by intelligence; as in the steering of a ship, +the bodily dexterity required is less than in shooting or fencing, +but the intelligence far greater: and so in war, the mere swordsmanship +and marksmanship of the troops are of small importance +in comparison with their disposition, and right choice of the +moment of action. So that arts of this second order must be +estimated, not by the quantity of bodily dexterity they require, +but by the quantity and dignity of the knowledge needed in their +practice, and by the degree of subtlety needed in bringing such +knowledge into play. War certainly stands first in the general +mind, not only as the greatest of the arts which I have called of +the second order, but as the greatest of all arts. It is not, however, +easy to distinguish the respect paid to the Power, from +that rendered to the Art of the soldier; the honor of victory +being more dependent, in the vulgar mind, on its results, than +its difficulties. I believe, however, that taking into consideration +the greatness of the anxieties under which this art must be +practised, the multitude of circumstances to be known and regarded +in it, and the subtleties both of apprehension and stratagem +constantly demanded by it, as well as the multiplicity of +disturbing accidents and doubtful contingencies against which it +must make provision on the instant, it must indeed rank as far +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page399"></a>399</span> +the first of the arts of the second order; and next to this great +art of killing, medicine being much like war in its stratagems +and watchings against its dark and subtle death-enemy.</p> + +<p>Then the arts of the first order will be those in which the +Imaginative part of the intellect and the Sensitive part of the +soul are joined: as poetry, architecture, and painting; these +forming a kind of cross, in their part of the scheme of the human +being, with those of the second order, which wed the Intelligent +part of the intellect and Resolute part of the soul. But the +reader must feel more and more, at every step, the impossibility +of classing the arts themselves, independently of the men by +whom they are practised; and how an art, low in itself, may +be made noble by the quantity of human strength and being +which a great man will pour into it; and an art, great in itself, +be made mean by the meanness of the mind occupied in it. I do +not intend, when I call painting an art of the first, and war an art +of the second, order, to class Dutch landscape painters with good +soldiers; but I mean, that if from such a man as Napoleon we +were to take away the honor of all that he had done in law and +civil government, and to give him the reputation of his soldiership +only, his name would be less, if justly weighed, than that +of Buonarroti, himself a good soldier also, when need was. But +I will not endeavor to pursue the inquiry, for I believe that of all +the arts of the first order it would be found that all that a man +has, or is, or can be, he can fully express in them, and give to +any of them, and find it not enough.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_15"></a>15. INSTINCTIVE JUDGMENTS.</h5> + +<p>The same rapid judgment which I wish to enable the reader +to form of architecture, may in some sort also be formed of +painting, owing to the close connection between execution and +expression in the latter; as between structure and expression +in the former. We ought to be able to tell good painting by a +side glance as we pass along a gallery; and, until we can do so, +we are not fit to pronounce judgment at all: not that I class this +easily visible excellence of painting with the great expressional +qualities which time and watchfulness only unfold. I have again +and again insisted on the supremacy of these last and shall +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page400"></a>400</span> +always continue to do so. But I perceive a tendency among +some of the more thoughtful critics of the day to forget that the +business of a painter is to <i>paint</i>, and so altogether to despise +those men, Veronese and Rubens for instance, who were painters, +par excellence, and in whom the expressional qualities are subordinate. +Now it is well, when we have strong moral or poetical +feeling manifested in painting, to mark this as the best part of +the work; but it is not well to consider as a thing of small +account, the painter’s language in which that feeling is conveyed, +for if that language be not good and lovely, the man may indeed +be a just moralist or a great poet, but he is not a <i>painter</i>, and it +was wrong of him to paint. He had much better put his morality +into sermons, and his poetry into verse, than into a language of +which he was not master. And this mastery of the language is +that of which we should be cognizant by a glance of the eye; +and if that be not found, it is wasted time to look farther: the +man has mistaken his vocation, and his expression of himself +will be cramped by his awkward efforts to do what he was not +fit to do. On the other hand, if the man be a painter indeed, +and have the gift of colors and lines, what is in him will come +from his hand freely and faithfully; and the language itself is +so difficult and so vast, that the mere possession of it argues the +man is great, and that his works are worth reading. So that I +have never yet seen the case in which this true artistical excellence, +visible by the eye-glance, was not the index of some true +expressional worth in the work. Neither have I ever seen a good +expressional work without high artistical merit: and that this is +ever denied is only owing to the narrow view which men are apt +to take both of expression and of art; a narrowness consequent +on their own especial practice and habits of thought. A man +long trained to love the monk’s visions of Fra Angelico, turns +in proud and ineffable disgust from the first work of Rubens +which he encounters on his return across the Alps. But is he +right in his indignation? He has forgotten, that while Angelico +prayed and wept in his <i>olive shade</i>, there was different work +doing in the dank fields of Flanders;—wild seas to be banked +out; endless canals to be dug, and boundless marshes to be +drained; hard ploughing and harrowing of the frosty clay; careful +breeding of stout horses and fat cattle; close setting of brick +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page401"></a>401</span> +walls against cold winds and snow; much hardening of hands +and gross stoutening of bodies in all this; gross jovialities of +harvest homes and Christmas feasts, which were to be the reward +of it; rough affections, and sluggish imagination; fleshy, substantial, +ironshod humanities, but humanities still; humanities +which God had his eye upon, and which won, perhaps, here and +there, as much favor in his sight as the wasted aspects of the +whispering monks of Florence (Heaven forbid it should not be +so, since the most of us cannot be monks, but must be ploughmen +and reapers still). And are we to suppose there is no nobility in +Rubens’ masculine and universal sympathy with all this, and with +his large human rendering of it, Gentleman though he was, by +birth, and feeling, and education, and place; and, when he +chose, lordly in conception also? He had his faults, perhaps +great and lamentable faults, though more those of his time and +his country than his own; he has neither cloister breeding nor +boudoir breeding, and is very unfit to paint either in missals or +annuals; but he has an open sky and wide-world breeding in him, +that we may not be offended with, fit alike for king’s court, knight’s +camp, or peasant’s cottage. On the other hand, a man trained here +in England, in our Sir Joshua school, will not and cannot allow +that there is any art at all in the technical work of Angelico. +But he is just as wrong as the other. Fra Angelico is as true a +master of the art necessary to his purposes, as Rubens was of that +<span class="correction" title="changed from 'necesary'">necessary</span> for his. We have been taught in England to think there +can be no virtue but in a loaded brush and rapid hand; but if +we can shake our common sense free of such teaching, we shall +understand that there is art also in the delicate point and in the +hand which trembles as it moves; not because it is more liable +to err, but because there is more danger in its error, and more +at stake upon its precision. The art of Angelico, both as a colorist +and a draughtsman, is consummate; so perfect and beautiful, +that his work may be recognised at any distance by the rainbow-play +and brilliancy of it: However closely it may be surrounded +by other works of the same school, glowing with enamel and +gold, Angelico’s may be told from them at a glance, like so many +huge pieces of opal lying among common marbles. So again +with Giotto; the Arena chapel is not only the most perfect expressional +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page402"></a>402</span> +work, it is the prettiest piece of wall decoration and +fair color, in North Italy.</p> + +<p>Now there is a correspondence of the same kind between the +technical and expressional parts of architecture;—not a true or +entire correspondence, so that when the expression is best, the +building must be also best; but so much of correspondence as +that good building is necessary to good expression, comes before +it, and is to be primarily looked for: and the more, because +the manner of building is capable of being determinately estimated +and classed; but the expressional character not so: we +can at once determine the true value of technical qualities, we can +only approximate to the value of expressional qualities: and +besides this, the looking for the technical qualities first will +enable us to cast a large quantity of rubbish aside at once, and +so to narrow the difficult field of inquiry into expression: we +shall get rid of Chinese pagodas and Indian temples, and Renaissance +Palladianisms, and Alhambra stucco and filigree, in one +great rubbish heap; and shall not need to trouble ourselves about +their expression, or anything else concerning them. Then taking +the buildings which have been rightly put together, and which +show common sense in their structure, we may look for their +farther and higher excellences; but on those which are absurd +in their first steps we need waste no time.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_16"></a>16. STRENGTH OF SHAFTS.</h5> + +<p>I could have wished, before writing this chapter, to have given +more study to the difficult subject of the strength of shafts of +different materials and structure; but I cannot enter into every +inquiry which general criticism might suggest, and this I believe +to be one which would have occupied the reader with less profit +than many others: all that is necessary for him to note is, that +the great increase of strength gained by a tubular form in iron +shafts, of given solid contents, is no contradiction to the general +principle stated in the text, that the strength of materials is +most available when they are most concentrated. The strength +of the tube is owing to certain properties of the arch formed by +its sides, not to the dispersion of its materials: and the principle +is altogether inapplicable to stone shafts. No one would think of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page403"></a>403</span> +building a pillar of a succession of sandstone rings; however +strong it might be, it would be still stronger filled up, and the +substitution of such a pillar for a solid one of the same contents +would lose too much space; for a stone pillar, even when solid, +must be quite as thick as is either graceful or convenient, and +in modern churches is often too thick as it is, hindering sight of +the preacher, and checking the sound of his voice.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_17"></a>17. ANSWER TO MR. GARBETT.</h5> + +<p>Some three months ago, and long after the writing of this +passage, I met accidentally with Mr. Garbett’s elementary Treatise +on Design. (Weale, 1850.) If I had cared about the reputation +of originality, I should have been annoyed—and was so, at first, +on finding Mr. Garbett’s illustrations of the subject exactly the +same as mine, even to the choice of the elephant’s foot for the +parallel of the Doric pillar: I even thought of omitting, or rewriting, +great part of the chapter, but determined at last to let it +stand. I am striving to speak plain truths on many simple and +trite subjects, and I hope, therefore, that much of what I say has +been said before, and am quite willing to give up all claim to +originality in any reasoning or assertion whatsoever, if any one +cares to dispute it. I desire the reader to accept what I say, not +as mine, but as the truth, which may be all the world’s, if they look +for it. If I remember rightly, Mr. Frank Howard promised at +some discussion respecting the “Seven Lamps,” reported in the +“Builder,” to pluck all my borrowed feathers off me; but I did +not see the end of the discussion, and do not know to this day +how many feathers I have left: at all events the elephant’s foot +must belong to Mr. Garbett, though, strictly speaking, neither +he nor I can be quite justified in using it, for an elephant in +reality stands on tiptoe; and this is by no means the expression +of a Doric shaft. As, however, I have been obliged to speak of +this treatise of Mr. Garbett’s, and desire also to recommend it +as of much interest and utility in its statements of fact, it is +impossible for me to pass altogether without notice, as if unanswerable, +several passages in which the writer has objected to +views stated in the “Seven Lamps.” I should at any rate have +noticed the passage quoted above, (<a href="#chap_30">Chap. 30th</a>,) which runs +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page404"></a>404</span> +counter to the spirit of all I have ever written, though without +referring to me; but the references to the “Seven Lamps” I +should not have answered, unless I had desired, generally, to +recommend the book, and partly also, because they may serve +as examples of the kind of animadversion which the “Seven +Lamps” had to sustain from architects, very generally; which +examples being once answered, there will be little occasion for +my referring in future to other criticisms of the kind.</p> + +<p>The first reference to the “Seven Lamps” is in the second +page, where Mr. Garbett asks a question, “Why are not convenience +and stability enough to constitute a fine building?”—which +I should have answered shortly by asking another, “Why +we have been made men, and not bees nor termites:” but Mr. +Garbett has given a very pretty, though partial, answer to it +himself, in his 4th to 9th pages,—an answer which I heartily beg +the reader to consider. But, in page 12, it is made a grave +charge against me, that I use the words beauty and ornament interchangeably. +I do so, and ever shall; and so, I believe, one +day, will Mr. Garbett himself; but not while he continues to +head his pages thus:—“Beauty not dependent on ornament, <i>or +superfluous</i> features.” What right has he to assume that ornament, +rightly so called, ever was, or can be, superfluous? I have +said before, and repeatedly in other places, that the most beautiful +things are the most useless; I never said superfluous. I said +useless in the well-understood and usual sense, as meaning, inapplicable +to the service of the body. Thus I called peacocks and +lilies useless; meaning, that roast peacock was unwholesome +(taking Juvenal’s word for it), and that dried lilies made bad +hay: but I do not think peacocks superfluous birds, nor that the +world could get on well without its lilies. Or, to look closer, +I suppose the peacock’s blue eyes to be very useless to him; not +dangerous indeed, as to their first master, but of small service, +yet I do not think there is a superfluous eye in all his tail; and +for lilies, though the great King of Israel was not “arrayed” +like one of them, can Mr. Garbett tell us which are their superfluous +leaves? Is there no Diogenes among lilies? none to be +found content to drink dew, but out of silver? The fact is, I +never met with the architect yet who did not think ornament +meant a thing to be bought in a shop and pinned on, or left off, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page405"></a>405</span> +at architectural toilets, as the fancy seized them, thinking little +more than many women do of the other kind of ornament—the +only true kind,—St. Peter’s kind,—“Not that outward adorning, +but the inner—of the heart.” I do not mean that architects +cannot conceive this better ornament, but they do not understand +that it is the <i>only</i> ornament; that <i>all</i> architectural ornament is +this, and nothing but this; that a noble building never has any +extraneous or superfluous ornament; that all its parts are necessary +to its loveliness, and that no single atom of them could be +removed without harm to its life. You do not build a temple +and then dress it.<a name="FnAnchor_101" href="#Footnote_101"><span class="sp">101</span></a> You create it in its loveliness, and leave it, +as her Maker left Eve. Not unadorned, I believe, but so well +adorned as to need no feather crowns. And I use the words +ornament and beauty interchangeably, in order that architects +may understand this: I assume that their building is to be a perfect +creature capable of nothing less than it has, and needing +nothing more. It may, indeed, receive additional decoration +afterwards, exactly as a woman may gracefully put a bracelet on +her arm, or set a flower in her hair: but that additional decoration +is <i>not</i> the <i>architecture</i>. It is of curtains, pictures, statues, +things that may be taken away from the building, and not hurt +it. What has the architect to do with these? He has only to +do with what is part of the building itself, that is to say, its own +inherent beauty. And because Mr. Garbett does not understand +or acknowledge this, he is led on from error to error; for we +next find him endeavoring to define beauty as distinct from ornament, +and saying that “Positive beauty may be produced by a +studious collation of whatever will display design, order, and +congruity.” (<a href="#page014">p. 14</a>.) Is that so? There is a highly studious +collation of whatever will display design, order, and congruity, +in a skull, is there not?—yet small beauty. The nose is a decorative +feature,—yet slightly necessary to beauty, it seems to me; +now, at least, for I once thought I must be wrong in considering +a skull disagreeable. I gave it fair trial: put one on my bed-room +chimney-piece, and looked at it by sunrise every morning, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page406"></a>406</span> +and by moonlight every night, and by all the best lights I could +think of, for a month, in vain. I found it as <span class="correction" title="corrected from 'sugly'">ugly</span> at last as I +did at first. So, also, the hair is a decoration, and its natural +curl is of little use; but can Mr. Garbett conceive a bald beauty; +or does he prefer a wig, because that is a “<i>studious</i> collation” +of whatever will produce design, order, and congruity? So the +flush of the cheek is a decoration,—God’s painting of the temple +of his spirit,—and the redness of the lip; and yet poor Viola +thought it beauty truly blent; and I hold with her.</p> + +<p>I have answered enough to this count.</p> + +<p>The second point questioned is my assertion, “Ornament +cannot be overcharged if it is good, and is always overcharged +when it is bad.” To which Mr. Garbett objects in these terms: +“I must contend, on the contrary, that the very best ornament +may be overcharged by being misplaced.”</p> + +<p>A short sentence with two mistakes in it.</p> + +<p>First. Mr. Garbett cannot get rid of his unfortunate notion +that ornament is a thing to be manufactured separately, and fastened +on. He supposes that an ornament may be called good in +itself, in the stonemason’s yard or in the ironmonger’s shop: +Once for all, let him put this idea out of his head. We may say +of a thing, considered separately, that it is a pretty thing; but +before we can say it is a good ornament, we must know what it +is to adorn, and how. As, for instance, a ring of gold is a pretty +thing; it is a good ornament on a woman’s finger; not a good +ornament hung through her under lip. A hollyhock, seven feet +high, would be a good ornament for a cottage-garden; not a good +ornament for a lady’s head-dress. Might not Mr. Garbett have +seen this without my showing? and that, therefore, when I said +“<i>good</i>” ornament, I said “well-placed” ornament, in one word, +and that, also, when Mr. Garbett says “it may be overcharged +by being misplaced,” he merely says it may be overcharged by +being <i>bad</i>.</p> + +<p>Secondly. But, granted that ornament <i>were</i> independent of +its position, and might be pronounced good in a separate form, +as books are good, or men are good.—Suppose I had written to +a student in Oxford, “You cannot have too many books, if they +be good books;” and he had answered me, “Yes, for if I have +many, I have no place to put them in but the coal-cellar.” +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page407"></a>407</span> +Would that in anywise affect the general principle that he could +not have too many books?</p> + +<p>Or suppose he had written, “I must not have too many, they +confuse my head.” I should have written back to him: “Don’t +buy books to put in the coal-hole, nor read them if they confuse +your head; you cannot have too many, if they be good: but if +you are too lazy to take care of them, or too dull to profit by +them, you are better without them.”</p> + +<p>Exactly in the same tone, I repeat to Mr. Garbett, “You +cannot have too much ornament, if it be good: but if you are +too indolent to arrange it, or too dull to take advantage of it, +assuredly you are better without it.”</p> + +<p>The other points bearing on this question have already been +stated in the close of the 21st chapter.</p> + +<p>The third reference I have to answer, is to my repeated assertion, +that the evidence of manual labor is one of the chief sources +of value in ornament, (“Seven Lamps,” p. 49, “Modern +Painters,” § 1, Chap. III.,) to which objection is made in these +terms: “We must here warn the reader against a remarkable +error of Ruskin. The value of ornaments in architecture depends +<i>not in the slightest degree</i> on the <i>manual labor</i> they contain. If +it did, the finest ornaments ever executed would be the stone +chains that hang before certain Indian rock-temples.” Is that +so? Hear a parallel argument. “The value of the Cornish +mines depends not in the slightest degree on the quantity of copper +they contain. If it did, the most valuable things ever produced +would be copper saucepans.” It is hardly worth my while +to answer this; but, lest any of my readers should be confused +by the objection, and as I hold the fact to be of great importance, +I may re-state it for them with some explanation.</p> + +<p>Observe, then, the appearance of labor, that is to say, the +evidence of the past industry of man, is always, in the abstract, +intensely delightful: man being meant to labor, it is delightful +to see that he <i>has</i> labored, and to read the record of his active +and worthy existence.</p> + +<p>The evidence of labor becomes painful only when it is a <i>sign +of Evil greater, as Evil, than the labor is great, as Good</i>. As, +for instance, if a man has labored for an hour at what might +have been done by another man in a moment, this evidence of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page408"></a>408</span> +his labor is also evidence of his weakness; and this weakness is +greater in rank of evil, than his industry is great in rank of +good.</p> + +<p>Again, if a man have labored at what was not worth accomplishing, +the signs of his labor are the signs of his folly, and his +folly dishonors his industry; we had rather he had been a wise +man in rest than a fool in labor.</p> + +<p>Again, if a man have labored without accomplishing anything, +the signs of his labor are the signs of his disappointment; and +we have more sorrow in sympathy with his failure, than pleasure +in sympathy with his work.</p> + +<p>Now, therefore, in ornament, whenever labor replaces what +was better than labor, that is to say, skill and thought; wherever +it substitutes itself for these, or <i>negatives these by its existence</i>, +then it is positive evil. Copper is an evil when it alloys gold, or +poisons food: not an evil, as copper; good in the form of pence, +seriously objectionable when it occupies the room of guineas. +Let Danaë cast it out of her lap, when the gold comes from +heaven; but let the poor man gather it up carefully from the +earth.</p> + +<p>Farther, the evidence of labor is not only a good when added +to other good, but the utter absence of it destroys good in human +work. It is only good for God to create without toil; that which +man can create without toil is worthless: machine ornaments +are no ornaments at all. Consider this carefully, reader: I could +illustrate it for you endlessly; but you feel it yourself every hour +of your existence. And if you do not know that you feel it, +take up, for a little time, the trade which of all manual trades +has been most honored: be for once a carpenter. Make for +yourself a table or a chair, and see if you ever thought any table +or chair so delightful, and what strange beauty there will be in +their crooked limbs.</p> + +<p>I have not noticed any other animadversions on the “Seven +Lamps” in Mr. Garbett’s volume; but if there be more, I must +now leave it to his own consideration, whether he may not, as in +the above instances, have made them incautiously: I may, perhaps, +also be permitted to request other architects, who may +happen to glance at the preceding pages, not immediately to +condemn what may appear to them false in general principle. I +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page409"></a>409</span> +must often be found deficient in technical knowledge; I may +often err in my statements respecting matters of practice or of +special law. But I do not write thoughtlessly respecting principles; +and my statements of these will generally be found worth +reconnoitring before attacking. Architects, no doubt, fancy +they have strong grounds for supposing me wrong when they +seek to invalidate my assertions. Let me assure them, at least, +that I mean to be their friend, although they may not immediately +recognise me as such. If I could obtain the public ear, +and the principles I have advocated were carried into general +practice, porphyry and serpentine would be given to them instead +of limestone and brick; instead of tavern and shop-fronts +they would have to build goodly churches and noble dwelling-houses; +and for every stunted Grecism and stucco Romanism, +into which they are now forced to shape their palsied thoughts, +and to whose crumbling plagiarisms they must trust their doubtful +fame, they would be asked to raise whole streets of bold, and +rich, and living architecture, with the certainty in their hearts +of doing what was honorable to themselves, and good for all men.</p> + +<p>Before I altogether leave the question of the influence of labor +on architectural effect, the reader may expect from me a word or +two respecting the subject which this year must be interesting to +all—the applicability, namely, of glass and iron to architecture +in general, as in some sort exemplified by the Crystal Palace.</p> + +<p>It is thought by many that we shall forthwith have great part +of our architecture in glass and iron, and that new forms of +beauty will result from the studied employment of these materials.</p> + +<p>It may be told in a few words how far this is possible; how +far eternally impossible.</p> + +<p>There are two means of delight in all productions of art—color +and form.</p> + +<p>The most vivid conditions of color attainable by human art +are those of works in glass and enamel, but not the most perfect. +The best and noblest coloring possible to art is that attained by +the touch of the human hand on an opaque surface, upon which +it can command any tint required, without subjection to alteration +by fire or other mechanical means. No color is so noble as +the color of a good painting on canvas or gesso.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page410"></a>410</span></p> + +<p>This kind of color being, however, impossible, for the most +part, in architecture, the next best is the scientific disposition of +the natural colors of stones, which are far nobler than any abstract +hues producible by human art.</p> + +<p>The delight which we receive from glass painting is one altogether +inferior, and in which we should degrade ourselves by +over indulgence. Nevertheless, it is possible that we may raise +some palaces like Aladdin’s with colored glass for jewels, which +shall be new in the annals of human splendor, and good in their +place; but not if they superseded nobler edifices.</p> + +<p>Now, color is producible either on opaque or in transparent +bodies: but form is only expressible, in its perfection, on opaque +bodies, without lustre.</p> + +<p>This law is imperative, universal, irrevocable. No perfect or +refined form can be expressed except in opaque and lustreless +matter. You cannot see the form of a jewel, nor, in any perfection, +even of a cameo or bronze. You cannot perfectly see the +form of a humming-bird, on account of its burnishing; but you +can see the form of a swan perfectly. No noble work in form can +ever, therefore, be produced in transparent or lustrous glass or +enamel. All noble architecture depends for its majesty on its +form: therefore you can never have any noble architecture in +transparent or lustrous glass or enamel. Iron is, however, +opaque; and both it and opaque enamel may, perhaps, be rendered +quite lustreless; and, therefore, fit to receive noble form.</p> + +<p>Let this be thoroughly done, and both the iron and enamel +made fine in paste or grain, and you may have an architecture +as noble as cast or struck architecture even can be: as noble, +therefore, as coins can be, or common cast bronzes, and such +other multiplicable things;<a name="FnAnchor_102" href="#Footnote_102"><span class="sp">102</span></a>—eternally separated from all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page411"></a>411</span> +good and great things by a gulph which not all the tubular +bridges nor engineering of ten thousand nineteenth centuries +cast into one great bronze-foreheaded century, will ever overpass +one inch of. All art which is worth its room in this world, all +art which is not a piece of blundering refuse, occupying the foot +or two of earth which, if unencumbered by it, would have grown +corn or violets, or some better thing, is <i>art which proceeds from +an individual mind, working through instruments which assist, +but do not supersede, the muscular action of the human hand, +upon the materials which most tenderly receive, and most securely +retain, the impressions of such human labor</i>.</p> + +<p>And the value of every work of art is exactly in the ratio of +the quantity of humanity which has been put into it, and legibly +expressed upon it for ever:—</p> + +<p>First, of thought and moral purpose;</p> +<p>Secondly, of technical skill;</p> +<p>Thirdly, of bodily industry.</p> + +<p>The quantity of bodily industry which that Crystal Palace expresses +is very great. So far it is good.</p> + +<p>The quantity of thought it expresses is, I suppose, a single +and very admirable thought of Mr. Paxton’s, probably not a bit +brighter than thousands of thoughts which pass through his +active and intelligent brain every hour,—that it might be possible +to build a greenhouse larger than ever greenhouse was built before. +This thought, and some very ordinary algebra, are as +much as all that glass can represent of human intellect. “But +one poor half-pennyworth of bread to all this intolerable deal of +sack.” Alas!</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> +<p class="ind03">“The earth hath bubbles as the water hath:</p> +<p>And this is of them.”</p> +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_18"></a>18. EARLY ENGLISH CAPITALS.</h5> + +<p>The depth of the cutting in some of the early English capitals +is, indeed, part of a general system of attempts at exaggerated +force of effect, like the “<i>black</i> touches” of second-rate +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page412"></a>412</span> +draughtsmen, which I have noticed as characteristic of nearly +all northern work, associated with the love of the grotesque: but +the main section of the capital is indeed a dripstone rolled round, +as above described; and dripstone sections are continually found +in northern work, where not only they cannot increase force of +effect, but are entirely invisible except on close examination; as, +for instance, under the uppermost range of stones of the foundation +of Whitehall, or under the slope of the restored base of All +Souls College, Oxford, under the level of the eye. I much doubt +if any of the Fellows be aware of its existence.</p> + +<p>Many readers will be surprised and displeased by the disparagement +of the early English capital. That capital has, indeed, +one character of considerable value; namely, the boldness with +which it stops the mouldings which fall upon it, and severs them +from the shaft, contrasting itself with the multiplicity of their +vertical lines. Sparingly used, or seldom seen, it is thus, in its +place, not unpleasing; and we English love it from association, +it being always found in connection with our purest and loveliest +Gothic arches, and never in multitudes large enough to satiate +the eye with its form. The reader who sits in the Temple church +every Sunday, and sees no architecture during the week but that +of Chancery Lane, may most justifiably quarrel with me for what +I have said of it. But if every house in Fleet Street or Chancery +Lane were Gothic, and all had early English capitals, I would +answer for his making peace with me in a fortnight.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_19"></a>19. TOMBS NEAR ST. ANASTASIA.</h5> + +<p>Whose they are, is of little consequence to the reader or to +me, and I have taken no pains to discover; their value being not +in any evidence they bear respecting dates, but in their intrinsic +merit as examples of composition. Two of them are within the +gate, one on the top of it, and this latter is on the whole the best, +though all are beautiful; uniting the intense northern energy in +their figure sculpture with the most serene classical restraint in +their outlines, and unaffected, but masculine simplicity of construction.</p> + +<p>I have not put letters to the diagram of the lateral arch at page +154, in order not to interfere with the clearness of the curves, but +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page413"></a>413</span> +I shall always express the same points by the same letters, whenever +I have to give measures of arches of this simple kind, so that the +reader need never have the diagrams lettered at all. The base +or span of the centre arch will always be <i>a b</i>; its vertex will always +be V; the points of the cusps will be <i>c c</i>; <i>p p</i> will be the +bases of perpendiculars let fall from V and <i>c</i> on <i>a b</i>; and <i>d</i> the +base of a perpendicular from the point of the cusp to the arch +line. Then <i>a b</i> will always be a span of the arch, V <i>p</i> its perpendicular +height, V <i>a</i> the chord of its side arcs, <i>d c</i> the depth of +its cusps, <i>c c</i> the horizontal interval between the cusps, <i>a c</i> the +length of the chord of the lower arc of the cusp, V <i>c</i> the length +of the chord of the upper arc of the cusp, (whether continuous +or not,) and <i>c p</i> the length of a perpendicular from the point of +the cusp on <i>a b</i>.</p> + +<p>Of course we do not want all these measures for a single arch, +but it often happens that some of them are attainable more easily +than others; some are often unattainable altogether, and it is +necessary therefore to have expressions for whichever we may be +able to determine.</p> + +<p>V <i>p</i> or V <i>a</i>, <i>a b</i>, and <i>d c</i> are always essential; then either <i>a c</i> +and V <i>c</i> or <i>c c</i> and <i>c p</i>: when I have my choice, I always take <i>a b</i>, +V <i>p</i>, <i>d c</i>, <i>c c</i>, and <i>c p</i>, but <i>c p</i> is not to be generally obtained so +accurately as the cusp arcs.</p> + +<p>The measures of the present arch are:</p> + +<table class="nobctr" summary="data"> +<tr><td class="tc2"> + +<p> </p> +<p><i>a b</i>,</p> +<p>V <i>p</i>,</p> +<p>V <i>c</i>,</p> +<p><i>a c</i>,</p> +<p><i>d c</i>,</p></td> + +<td class="tc5" style="padding-left: 1em; "> +<p class="f80">Ft. In.</p> +<p>3 ,, 8</p> +<p>4 ,, 0</p> +<p>2 ,, 4½</p> +<p>2 ,, 0¼</p> +<p>0 ,, 3½</p> + +</td></tr></table> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_20"></a>20. SHAFTS OF DUCAL PALACE.</h5> + +<p>The shortness of the thicker ones at the angles is induced by +the greater depth of the enlarged capitals: thus the 36th shaft is +10 ft. 4⅓ in. in circumference at its base, and 10 ,, 0½<a name="FnAnchor_103" href="#Footnote_103"><span class="sp">103</span></a> in circumference +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page414"></a>414</span> +under the fillet of its capital; but it is only 6 ,, 1¾ +high, while the minor intermediate shafts, of which the thickest +is 7 ,, 8 round at the base, and 7 ,, 4 under capital, are yet on the +average 7 ,, 7 high. The angle shaft towards the sea (the 18th) +is nearly of the proportions of the 36th, and there are three +others, the 15th, 24th, and 26th, which are thicker than the +rest, though not so thick as the angle ones. The 24th and 26th +have both party walls to bear, and I imagine the 15th must in +old time have carried another, reaching across what is now the +Sala del Gran Consiglio.</p> + +<p>They measure respectively round at the base,</p> + +<table class="nobctr" summary="data"> +<tr><td class="tc2"> +<p>The 15th,</p> +<p>24th,</p> +<p>26th,</p></td> + +<td class="tc5" style="padding-left: 1em; "> +<p>8 ,, 2</p> +<p>9 ,, 6½</p> +<p>8 ,, 0½</p> + +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The other pillars towards the sea, and those to the 27th inclusive +of the Piazzetta, are all seven feet round at the base, and then +there is a most curious and delicate crescendo of circumference +to the 36th, thus:</p> + +<table class="nobctr" summary="data"> +<tr><td class="tc2"> +<p>The 28th,</p> +<p>29th,</p> +<p>30th,</p> +<p>31st,</p> +<p>32nd,</p></td> + +<td class="tc5" style="padding-left: 1em; "> +<p>7 ,, 3</p> +<p>7 ,, 4</p> +<p>7 ,, 6</p> +<p>7 ,, 7</p> +<p>7 ,, 5</p></td> + +<td class="tc2" style="padding-left: 5em; vertical-align: top; "> +<p>The 33rd,</p> +<p>34th,</p> +<p>35th,</p> +<p>36th,</p></td> + +<td class="tc5" style="padding-left: 1em; vertical-align: top; "> +<p> 7 ,, 6</p> +<p> 7 ,, 8</p> +<p> 7 ,, 8</p> +<p>10 ,, 4⅓</p> + +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The shafts of the upper arcade, which are above these thicker +columns, are also thicker than their companions, measuring on the +average, 4 ,, 8½ in circumference, while those of the sea façade, +except the 29th, average 4 ,, 7½ in circumference. The 29th, +which is of course above the 15th of the lower story, is 5 ,, 5 in +circumference, which little piece of evidence will be of no small +value to us by-and-by. The 35th carries the angle of the palace, +and is 6 ,, 0 round. The 47th, which comes above the 24th and +carries the party wall of the Sala del Gran Consiglio, is strengthened +by a pilaster; and the 51st, which comes over the 26th, is +5 ,, 4½ round, or nearly the same as the 29th; it carries the party +wall of the Sala del Scrutinio; a small room containing part of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page415"></a>415</span> +St. Mark’s library, coming between the two saloons; a room +which, in remembrances of the help I have received in all my inquiries +from the kindness and intelligence of its usual occupant, +I shall never easily distinguish otherwise than as “Mr. Lorenzi’s.”<a name="FnAnchor_104" href="#Footnote_104"><span class="sp">104</span></a></p> + +<p>I may as well connect with these notes respecting the arcades +of the Ducal Palace, those which refer to <a href="#plate_14">Plate XIV.</a>, which +represents one of its spandrils. Every spandril of the lower +arcade was intended to have been occupied by an ornament resembling +the one given in that plate. The mass of the building +being of Istrian stone, a depth of about two inches is left within +the mouldings of the arches, rough hewn, to receive the slabs of +fine marble composing the patterns. I cannot say whether the +design was ever completed, or the marbles have been since removed, +but there are now only two spandrils retaining their fillings, +and vestiges of them in a third. The two complete spandrils +are on the sea façade, above the 3rd and 10th capitals (<i>vide</i> +method of numbering, Chap. I., page 30); that is to say, connecting +the 2nd arch with the 3rd, and the 9th with the 10th. +The latter is the one given in <a href="#plate_14">Plate XIV.</a> The white portions +of it are all white marble, the dental band surrounding the circle +is in coarse sugary marble, which I believe to be Greek, and never +found in Venice to my recollection, except in work at least anterior +to the fifteenth century. The shaded fields charged with +the three white triangles are of red Verona marble; the inner +disc is green serpentine, and the dark pieces of the radiating +leaves are grey marble. The three triangles are equilateral. The +two uppermost are 1 ,, 5 each side, and the lower 1 ,, 2.</p> + +<p>The extreme diameter of the circle is 3 ,, 10½; its field is +slightly raised above the red marbles, as shown in the section at +A, on the left. A <i>a</i> is part of the red marble field; <i>a b</i> the section +of the dentil moulding let into it; <i>b c</i> the entire breadth +of the rayed zone, represented on the other side of the spandril +by the line C <i>f</i>; <i>c d</i> is the white marble band let in, with the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page416"></a>416</span> +dogtooth on the face of it; <i>b c</i> is 7¾ inches across; <i>c d</i> 3¾; and at +B are given two joints of the dentil (mentioned above, in the +chapter on dentils, as unique in Venice) of their actual size. At +C is given one of the inlaid leaves; its measure being (in inches) +C <i>f</i> 7¾; C <i>h</i> ¾; <i>f g</i> ¾; <i>f e</i> 4¾, the base of the smaller leaves being +of course <i>f e</i> - <i>f g</i> = 4. The pattern which occupies the other +spandril is similar, except that the field <i>b c</i>, instead of the intersecting +arcs, has only triangles of grey marble, arranged like +rays, with their bases towards the centre. There being twenty +round the circle, the reader can of course draw them for himself; +they being isosceles, touching the dentil with their points, +and being in contact at their bases: it has lost its central boss. +The marbles are, in both, covered with a rusty coating, through +which it is excessively difficult to distinguish the colors (another +proof of the age of the ornament). But the white marbles are +certainly, in places (except only the sugary dentil), veined with +purple, and the grey seem warmed with green.</p> + +<p>A trace of another of these ornaments may be seen over the +21st capital; but I doubt if the marbles have ever been inserted +in the other spandrils, and their want of ornament occasions the +slight meagreness in the effect of the lower story, which is almost +the only fault of the building.</p> + +<p>This decoration by discs, or shield-like ornaments, is a marked +characteristic of Venetian architecture in its earlier ages, and +is carried into later times by the Byzantine Renaissance, already +distinguished from the more corrupt forms of Renaissance, in +<a href="#app_6">Appendix 6</a>. Of the disc decoration, so borrowed, we have already +an example in <a href="#plate_1">Plate I.</a> In <a href="#plate_7">Plate VII.</a> we have an earlier +condition of it, one of the discs being there sculptured, the +others surrounded by sculptured bands: here we have, on the +Ducal Palace, the most characteristic of all, because likest to +the shield, which was probably the origin of the same ornament +among the Arabs, and assuredly among the Greeks. In Mr. +Donaldson’s restoration of the gate of the treasury of Atreus, +this ornament is conjecturally employed, and it occurs constantly +on the Arabian buildings of Cairo.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page417"></a>417</span></p> +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_21"></a>21. ANCIENT REPRESENTATIONS OF WATER.</h5> + +<p>I have long been desirous of devoting some time to an enquiry +into the effect of natural scenery upon the pagan, and +especially the Greek, mind, and knowing that my friend, Mr. C. +Newton, had devoted much thought to the elucidation of the +figurative and symbolic language of ancient art, I asked him to +draw up for me a few notes of the facts which he considered +most interesting, as illustrative of its methods of representing +nature. I suggested to him, for an initiative subject, the representation +of water; because this is one of the natural objects +whose portraiture may most easily be made a test of treatment, +for it is one of universal interest, and of more closely similar +aspect in all parts of the world than any other. Waves, currents, +and eddies are much liker each other, everywhere, than +either land or vegetation. Rivers and lakes, indeed, differ +widely from the sea, and the clear Pacific from the angry Northern +ocean; but the Nile is liker the Danube than a knot of Nubian +palms is to a glade of the Black Forest; and the Mediterranean +is liker the Atlantic than the Campo Felice is like Solway +moss.</p> + +<p>Mr. Newton has accordingly most kindly furnished me with +the following data. One or two of the types which he describes +have been already noticed in the main text; but it is well that +the reader should again contemplate them in the position which +they here occupy in a general system. I recommend his special +attention to Mr. Newton’s definitions of the terms “figurative” +and “symbolic,” as applied to art, in the beginning of the paper.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>In ancient art, that is to say, in the art of the Egyptian, +Assyrian, Greek, and Roman races, water is, for the most part, +represented conventionally rather than naturally.</p> + +<p>By natural representation is here meant as just and perfect +an imitation of nature as the technical means of art will allow: +on the other hand, representation is said to be conventional, +either when a confessedly inadequate imitation is accepted in default +of a better, or when imitation is not attempted at all, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page418"></a>418</span> +it is agreed that other modes of representation, those by figures +or by symbols, shall be its substitute and equivalent.</p> + +<p>In figurative representation there is always <i>impersonation</i>; +the sensible form, borrowed by the artist from organic life, is +conceived to be actuated by a will, and invested with such mental +attributes as constitute personality.</p> + +<p>The sensible <i>symbol</i>, whether borrowed from organic or from +inorganic nature, is not a personification at all, but the conventional +sign or equivalent of some object or notion, to which it +may perhaps bear no visible resemblance, but with which the +intellect or the imagination has in some way associated it.</p> + +<p>For instance, a city may be figuratively represented as a +woman crowned with towers; here the artist has selected for the +expression of his idea a human form animated with a will and +motives of action analogous to those of humanity generally. Or, +again, as in Greek art, a bull may be a figurative representation +of a river, and, in the conception of the artist, this animal form +may contain, and be ennobled by, a human mind.</p> + +<p>This is still impersonation; the form only in which personality +is embodied is changed.</p> + +<p>Again, a dolphin may be used as a symbol of the sea; a man +ploughing with two oxen is a well-known symbol of a Roman +colony. In neither of these instances is there impersonation. +The dolphin is not invested, like the figure of Neptune, with +any of the attributes of the human mind; it has animal instincts, +but no will; it represents to us its native element, only as a part +may be taken for a whole.</p> + +<p>Again, the man ploughing does not, like the turreted female +figure, <i>personify</i>, but rather <i>typifies</i> the town, standing as the +visible representation of a real event, its first foundation. To +our mental perceptions, as to our bodily senses, this figure seems +no more than man; there is no blending of his personal nature +with the impersonal nature of the colony, no transfer of attributes +from the one to the other.</p> + +<p>Though the conventionally imitative, the figurative, and the +symbolic, are three distinct kinds of representation, they are +constantly combined in one composition, as we shall see in the +following examples, cited from the art of successive races in +chronological order.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page419"></a>419</span></p> + +<p>In Egyptian art the general representation of water is the +conventionally imitative. In the British Museum are two frescoes +from tombs at Thebes, Nos. 177 and 170: the subject of the +first of these is an oblong pond, ground-plan and elevation being +strangely confused in the design. In this pond water is represented +by parallel zigzag lines, in which fish are swimming about. +On the surface are birds and lotos flowers; the herbage at the +edge of the pond is represented by a border of symmetrical fan-shaped +flowers; the field beyond by rows of trees, arranged round +the sides of the pond at right angles to each other, and in defiance +of all laws of perspective.</p> + +<table style="float: right; width: auto;" summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LXXI.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figright2"> + <a name="fig_71"><img src="images/img419.jpg" width="130" height="90" alt="Fig. LXXI." title="Fig. LXXI." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>In the fresco, No. 170, we have the representation of a river +with papyrus on its bank. Here the water is rendered by zigzag +lines arranged vertically and in parallel lines, so +as to resemble herring-bone masonry, thus. +There are fish in this fresco as in the preceding, +and in both each fish is drawn very distinctly, +not as it would appear to the eye viewed through +water. The mode of representing this element +in Egyptian painting is further abbreviated in their hieroglyphic +writing, where the sign of water is a zigzag line; this line is, so +to speak, a picture of water written in short hand. In the +Egyptian Pantheon there was but one aquatic deity, the god of +the Nile; his type is, therefore, the only figurative representation +of water in Egyptian art. (Birch, “Gallery of British Museum +Antiquities,” Pl. 13.) In Assyrian sculpture we have very curious +conventionally imitative representations of water. On +several of the friezes from Nimroud and Khorsabad, men are +seen crossing a river in boats, or in skins, accompanied by horses +swimming (see Layard, ii. p. 381). In these scenes water is represented +by masses of wavy lines somewhat resembling tresses +of hair, and terminating in curls or volutes; these wavy lines +express the general character of a deep and rapid current, like +that of the Tigris. Fish are but sparingly introduced, the idea +of surface being sufficiently expressed by the floating figures and +boats. In the representation of these there is the same want of +perspective as in the Egyptian fresco which we have just cited.</p> + +<p>In the Assyrian Pantheon one aquatic deity has been discovered, +the god Dagon, whose human form terminates in a fish’s +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page420"></a>420</span> +tail. Of the character and attributes of this deity we know but +little.</p> + +<p>The more abbreviated mode of representing water, the zigzag +line, occurs on the large silver coins with the type of a city or a +war galley (see Layard, ii. p. 386). These coins were probably +struck in Assyria, not long after the conquest of it by the Persians.</p> + +<p>In Greek art the modes of representing water are far more +varied. Two conventional imitations, the wave moulding and +the Mæander, are well known. Both are probably of the most +remote antiquity; both have been largely employed as an architectural +ornament, and subordinately as a decoration of vases, +costume, furniture and implements. In the wave moulding we +have a conventional representation of the small crisping waves +which break upon the shore of the Mediterranean, the sea of the +Greeks.</p> + +<p>Their regular succession, and equality of force and volume, +are generalised in this moulding, while the minuter varieties +which distinguish one wave from another are merged in the +general type. The character of ocean waves is to be “for ever +changing, yet the same for ever;” it is this eternity of recurrence +which the early artist has expressed in this hieroglyphic.</p> + +<p>With this profile representation of water may be compared +the sculptured waves out of which the head and arms of Hyperion +are rising in the pediment of the Parthenon (Elgin Room, +No. (65) 91, Museum Marbles, vi. pl. 1). Phidias has represented +these waves like a mass of overlapping tiles, thus generalising +their rippling movement. In the Mæander pattern the +graceful curves of nature are represented by angles, as in the +Egyptian hieroglyphic of water: so again the earliest representation +of the labyrinth on the coins of the Cnossus is rectangular; +on later coins we find the curvilinear form introduced.</p> + +<p>In the language of Greek mythography, the wave pattern and +the Mæander are sometimes used singly for the idea of water, +but more frequently combined with figurative representation. +The number of aquatic deities in the Greek Pantheon led to the +invention of a great variety of beautiful types. Some of these +are very well known. Everybody is familiar with the general +form of Poseidon (Neptune), the Nereids, the Nymphs and River +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page421"></a>421</span> +Gods; but the modes in which these types were combined with +conventional imitation and with accessory symbols deserve careful +study, if we would appreciate the surpassing richness and beauty +of the language of art formed out of these elements.</p> + +<p>This class of representations may be divided into two principal +groups, those relating to the sea, and those relating to fresh +water.</p> + +<p>The power of the ocean and the great features of marine +scenery are embodied in such types as Poseidon, Nereus and the +Nereids, that is to say, in human forms moving through the +liquid element in chariots, or on the back of dolphins, or who +combine the human form with that of the fish-like Tritons. The +sea-monsters who draw these chariots are called Hippocamps, being +composed of the tail of a fish and the fore-part of a horse, +the legs terminating in web-feet: this union seems to express +speed and power under perfect control, such as would characterise +the movements of sea deities. A few examples have been here +selected to show how these types were combined with symbols +and conventional imitation.</p> + +<p>In the British Museum is a vase, No. 1257, engraved (Lenormant +et De Witte, Mon. Céram., i. pl. 27), of which the subject +is, Europa crossing the sea on the back of the bull. In this design +the sea is represented by a variety of expedients. First, the +swimming action of the bull suggests the idea of the liquid +medium through which he moves. Behind him stands Nereus, +his staff held perpendicularly in his hand; the top of his staff +comes nearly to the level of the bull’s back, and is probably +meant as the measure of the whole depth of the sea. Towards +the surface line thus indicated a dolphin is rising; in the middle +depth is another dolphin; below a shrimp and a cuttle-fish, and +the bottom is indicated by a jagged line of rocks, on which are +two echini.</p> + +<p>On a mosaic found at Oudnah in Algeria (Revue Archéol., iii. +pl. 50), we have a representation of the sea, remarkable for the +fulness of details with which it is made out.</p> + +<p>This, though of the Roman period, is so thoroughly Greek in +feeling, that it may be cited as an example of the class of mythography +now under consideration. The mosaic lines the floor +and sides of a bath, and, as was commonly the case in the baths +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page422"></a>422</span> +of the ancients, serves as a figurative representation of the water +it contained.</p> + +<p>On the sides are hippocamps, figures riding on dolphins, and +islands on which fishermen stand; on the floor are fish, crabs, +and shrimps.</p> + +<p>These, as in the vase with Europa, indicate the bottom of the +sea: the same symbols of the submarine world appear on many +other ancient designs. Thus in vase pictures, when Poseidon +upheaves the island of Cos to overwhelm the Giant Polydotes, +the island is represented as an immense mass of rock; the parts +which have been under water are indicated by a dolphin, a +shrimp, and a sepia, the parts above the water by a goat and a +serpent (Lenormant et De Witte, i., tav. 5).</p> + +<p>Sometimes these symbols occur singly in Greek art, as the +types, for instance, of coins. In such cases they cannot be interpreted +without being viewed in relation to the whole context +of mythography to which they belong. If we find, for example, +on one coin of Tarentum a shell, on another a dolphin, on a +third a figure of Tarus, the mythic founder of the town, riding +on a dolphin in the midst of the waves, and this latter group +expresses the idea of the town itself and its position on the +coast, then we know the two former types to be but portions of +the greater design, having been detached from it, as we may detach +words from sentences.</p> + +<p>The study of the fuller and clearer examples, such as we have +cited above, enables us to explain many more compendious forms +of expression. We have, for instance, on coins several representations +of ancient harbors.</p> + +<p>Of these, the earliest occurs on the coins of Zancle, the modern +Messina in Sicily. The ancients likened the form of this harbor +to a sickle, and on the coins of the town we find a curved object, +within the area of which is a dolphin. On this curve are four +square elevations placed at equal distances. It has been conjectured +that these projections are either towers or the large stones +to which galleys were moored still to be seen in ancient harbors +(see Burgon, Numismatic Chronicle, iii. p. 40). With this +archaic representation of a harbor may be compared some examples +of the Roman period. On a coin of Sept. Severus struck at +Corinth (Millingen, Sylloge of Uned. Coins, 1837, p. 57, Pl. II., +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page423"></a>423</span> +No. 30) we have a female figure standing on a rock between two +recumbent male figures holding rudders. From an arch at the +foot of the rock a stream is flowing: this is a representation of +the rock of the Acropolis of Corinth: the female figure is a +statue of Aphrodite, whose temple surmounted the rock. The +stream is the fountain Pirene. The two recumbent figures are +impersonations of the two harbors, Lechreum and Cenchreia, +between which Corinth was situated. Philostratus (Icon. ii., c. +16) describes a similar picture of the Isthmus between the two +harbors, one of which was in the form of a youth, the other of +a nymph.</p> + +<p>On another coin of Corinth we have one of the harbors in a +semicircular form, the whole arc being marked with small equal +divisions, to denote the archways under which the ancient galleys +were drawn, <i>subductæ</i>; at the either horn or extremity of +the harbor is a temple; in the centre of the mouth, a statue of +Neptune. (Millingen, Médailles Inéd., Pl. II., No. 19. Compare +also <span class="correction" title="originally 'Milligen'">Millingen</span>, Ancient Coins of Cities and Kings, 1831, pp. +50-61, Pl. IV., No. 15; Mionnet, Suppl. vii. p. 79, No. 246; +and the harbor of Ostium, on the large brass coins of Nero, in +which there is a representation of the Roman fleet and a reclining +figure of Neptune.)</p> + +<p>In vase pictures we have occasionally an attempt to represent +water naturally. On a vase in the British Museum (No. 785), +of which the subject is Ulysses and the Sirens, the Sea is rendered +by wavy lines drawn in black on a red ground, and something +like the effect of light playing on the surface of the water +is given. On each side of the ship are shapeless masses of rock +on which the Sirens stand.</p> + +<p>One of the most beautiful of the figurative representations of +the sea is the well-known type of Scylla. She has a beautiful +body, terminating in two barking dogs and two serpent tails. +Sometimes drowning men, the <i>rari nantes in gurgite vasto</i>, appear +caught up in the coils of these tails. Below are dolphins. +Scylla generally brandishes a rudder to show the manner in +which she twists the course of ships. For varieties of her type +see Monum. dell’Inst. Archeol. Rom., iii. Tavv. 52-3.</p> + +<p>The representations of fresh water may be arranged under the +following heads—rivers, lakes, fountains.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page424"></a>424</span></p> + +<p>There are several figurative modes of representing rivers very +frequently employed in ancient mythography.</p> + +<p>In the type which occurs earliest we have the human form +combined with that of the bull in several ways. On an archaic +coin of Metapontum in Lucania, (see frontispiece to Millingen, +Ancient Coins of Greek Cities and Kings,) the river Achelous is +represented with the figure of a man with a shaggy beard and +bull’s horns and ears. On a vase of the best period of Greek +art (Brit. Mus. No. 789; Birch, Trans. Roy. Soc. of Lit., New +Series, Lond. 1843, i. p. 100) the same river is represented with +a satyr’s head and long bull’s horns on the forehead; his form, +human to the waist, terminates in a fish’s tail; his hair falls down +his back; his beard is long and shaggy. In this type we see a +combination of the three forms separately enumerated by Sophocles, +in the commencement of the Trachiniæ.</p> + +<table class="reg" summary="poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poemr"> + +<p class="grk" style="padding-left: 12em;" title="Achelôon legô,"> + <i>᾽Αχελῷον λέγω,</i></p> +<p class="grk" title="os m’ en trisin morphaisin exêtei patros,"> + <i>ος μ᾽ ἐν τρισἰν μορφαῖσιν + ἐξῄει πατρὸς,</i></p> +<p class="grk" title="phoitôn enargês auros allot’ aiolos,"> + <i>φοιτῶν ἐναργὴς αῦρος + ἄλλοτ᾽ αἰόλος,</i></p> +<p class="grk" title="drajôn heliktos, allot’ andreiô kytei"> + <i>δράκων ἑλικτὸς, ἄλλοτ᾽ + ἄνδρειῳ κύτεί</i></p> +<p class="grk" title="bouprôros, ek de daskiou geneiados"> + <i>βουπρῳρος, ἐκ δὲ + δασκίου γενειάδος</i></p> +<p class="grk" title="krounoi dierrainonto krênaiou potou."> + <i>κρουνοὶ διεῤῥαίνοντο + κρηναίου ποτοῦ.</i></p> + +</div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>In a third variety of this type the human-headed body is +united at the waist with the shoulders of a bull’s body, in which +it terminates. This occurs on an early vase. (Brit. Mus., No. +452.) On the coins of Œniadæ in Acarnia, and on those of Ambracia, +all of the period after Alexander the Great, the Achelous +has a bull’s body, and head with a human face. In this variety +of the type the human element is almost absorbed, as in the first +variety cited above, the coin of Metapontum, the bull portion of +the type is only indicated by the addition of the horns and ears +to the human head. On the analogy between these, varieties in +the type of the Achelous and those under which the metamorphoses +of the marine goddess Thetis are represented, see +Gerhard, Auserl. Vasenb. ii. pp. 106-113. It is probable that, +in the type of Thetis, of Proteus, and also of the Achelous, the +singular combinations and transformations are intended to express +the changeful nature of the element water.</p> + +<p>Numerous other examples may be cited, where rivers are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page425"></a>425</span> +represented by this combination of the bull and human form, +which maybe called, for convenience, the Androtauric type. On +the coins of Sicily, of the archaic and also of the finest period +of art, rivers are most usually represented by a youthful male +figure, with small budding horns; the hair has the lank and +matted form which characterises aquatic deities in Greek mythography. +The name of the river is often inscribed round the +head. When the whole figure occurs on the coin, it is always +represented standing, never reclining.</p> + +<p>The type of the bull on the coins of Sybaris and Thurium, +in Magna Græcia, has been considered, with great probability, +a representation of this kind. On the coins of Sybaris, which +are of a very early period, the head of the bull is turned round; +on those of Thurium, he stoops his head, butting: the first of +these actions has been thought to symbolise the winding course +of the river, the second, its headlong current. On the coins of +Thurium, the idea of water is further suggested by the adjunct +of dolphins and other fish in the exergue of the coin. The +ground on which the bull stands is indicated by herbage or pebbles. +This probably represents the river bank. Two bulls’ head +occur on the coins of Sardis, and it has been ingeniously conjectured +by Mr. Burgon that the two rivers of the place are expressed +under this type.</p> + +<p>The representation of river-gods as human figures in a reclining +position, though probably not so much employed in earlier +Greek art as the Androtauric type, is very much more familiar +to us, from its subsequent adoption in Roman mythography. +The earliest example we have of a reclining river-god is in the +figure in the Elgin Room commonly called the Ilissus, but more +probably the Cephissus. This occupied one angle in the western +pediment of the Parthenon; the other Athenian river, the +Ilissus, and the fountain Callirrhoe being represented by a male +and female figure in the opposite angle; this group, now destroyed, +is visible in the drawing made by Carrey in 1678.</p> + +<p>It is probable that the necessities of pedimental composition +first led the artist to place the river-god in a reclining position. +The head of the Ilissus being broken off, we are not sure whether +he had bull’s horns, like the Sicilian figures already described. +His form is youthful, in the folds of the drapery behind him +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page426"></a>426</span> +there is a flow like that of waves, but the idea of water is not +suggested by any other symbol. When we compare this figure +with that of the Nile (Visconti, Mus. Pio Clem., i., Pl. 38), and +the figure of the Tiber in the Louvre, both of which are of the +Roman period, we see how in these later types the artist multiplied +symbols and accessories, ingrafting them on the original +simple type of the river-god, as it was conceived by Phidias in +the figure of the Ilissus. The Nile is represented as a colossal +bearded figure reclining. At his side is a cornucopia, full of the +vegetable produce of the Egyptian soil. Round his body are +sixteen naked boys, who represent the sixteen cubits, the height +to which the river rose in a favorable year. The statue is +placed on a basement divided into three compartments, one above +another. In the uppermost of these, waves are flowing over in +one great sheet from the side of the river-god. In the other two +compartments are the animals and plants of the river; the bas-reliefs +on this basement are, in fact, a kind of abbreviated symbolic +panorama of the Nile.</p> + +<p>The Tiber is represented in a very similar manner. On the +base are, in two compartments, scenes taken from the early +Roman myths; flocks, herds, and other objects on the banks of +the river. (Visconti, Mus. P. Cl. i., Pl. 39; Millin, Galerie Mythol., +i. p. 77, Pl. 74, Nos. 304, 308.)</p> + +<p>In the types of the Greek coins of Camarina, we find two interesting +representations of Lakes. On the obverse of one of these +we have, within a circle of the wave pattern, a male head, full +face, with dishevelled hair, and with a dolphin on either side; on +the reverse a female figure sailing on a swan, below which a wave +moulding, and above, a dolphin.</p> + +<p>On another coin the swan type of the reverse is associated with +the youthful head of a river-god, inscribed “Hipparis” on the +obverse. On some smaller coins we have the swan flying over +the rippling waves, which are represented by the wave moulding. +When we examine the chart of Sicily, made by the Admiralty +survey, we find marked down at Camarina, a lake through which +the river Hipparis flows.</p> + +<p>We can hardly doubt that the inhabitants of Camarina represented +both their river and their lakes on their coins. The swan +flying over the waves would represent a lake; the figure associated +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page427"></a>427</span> +with it being no doubt the Aphrodite worshipped at that place: +the head, in a circle of wave pattern, may express that part of +the river which flows through the lake.</p> + +<p>Fountains are usually represented by a stream of water issuing +from a lion’s head in the rock: see a vase (Gerhard, Auserl. +Vasenb., taf. <span class="scs">CXXXIV</span>.), where Hercules stands, receiving a +shower-bath from a hot spring at Thermæ in Sicily. On the +coins of Syracuse the fountain Arethusa is represented by a +female head seen to the front; the flowing lines of her dishevelled +hair suggest, though they do not directly imitate, the bubbling +action of the fresh-water spring; the sea in which it rises is +symbolized by the dolphins round the head. This type presents +a striking analogy with that of the Camarina head in the circle +of wave pattern described above.</p> + +<p>These are the principal modes of representing water in Greek +mythography. In the art of the Roman period, the same kind +of figurative and symbolic language is employed, but there is a +constant tendency to multiply accessories and details, as we have +shown in the later representations of harbors and river-gods cited +above. In these crowded compositions the eye is fatigued and +distracted by the quantity it has to examine; the language of art +becomes more copious but less terse and emphatic, and addresses +itself to minds far less intelligent than the refined critics who +were the contemporaries of Phidias.</p> + +<p>Rivers in Roman art are usually represented by reclining +male figures, generally bearded, holding reeds or other plants in +their hands, and leaning on urns from which water is flowing. +On the coins of many Syrian cities, struck in imperial times, the +city is represented by a turreted female figure seated on rocks, +and resting her feet on the shoulder of a youthful male figure, +who looks up in her face, stretching out his arms, and who is +sunk in the ground as high as the waist. See Müller (Denkmäler +d. A. Kunst, i., taf. 49, No. 220) for a group of this kind in +the Vatican, and several similar designs on coins.</p> + +<p>On the column of Trajan there occur many rude representations +of the Danube, and other rivers crossed by the Romans in +their military expeditions. The water is imitated by sculptured +wavy lines, in which boats are placed. In one scene (Bartoli, +Colonna Trajana, Tav. 4) this rude conventional imitation is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page428"></a>428</span> +combined with a figure. In a recess in the river bank is a reclining +river-god, terminating at the waist. This is either meant +for a statue which was really placed on the bank of the river, +and which therefore marks some particular locality, or we have +here figurative representation blended with conventional imitation.</p> + +<p>On the column of Antoninus (Bartoli, Colon. Anton., Tav. +15) a storm of rain is represented by the head of Jupiter Pluvius, +who has a vast outspread beard flowing in long tresses. In the +Townley collection, in the British Museum, is a Roman helmet +found at Ribchester in Lancashire, with a mask or vizor attached. +The helmet is richly embossed with figures in a battle scene; +round the brow is a row of turrets; the hair in the forehead is so +treated as to give the idea of waves washing the base of the +turrets. This head is perhaps a figurative representation of a +town girt with fortifications and a moat, near which some great +battle was fought. It is engraved (Vetusta Monum. of Soc. Ant. +London, iv., Pl. 1-4).</p> + +<p>In the Galeria at Florence is a group in alto relievo (Gori, +Inscript. Ant. Flor. 1727, p. 76, Tab. 14) of three female +figures, one of whom is certainly Demeter Kourotrophos, or the +earth; another, Thetis, or the sea; the centre of the three seems +to represent Aphrodite associated, as on the coins of Camarina, +with the element of fresh water.</p> + +<p>This figure is seated on a swan, and holds over her head an +arched veil. Her hair is bound with reeds; above her veil grows +a tall water plant, and below the swan other water plants, and a +stork seated on a <i>hydria</i>, or pitcher, from which water is flowing. +The swan, the stork, the water plants, and the <i>hydria</i> must all +be regarded as symbols of fresh water, the latter emblem being +introduced to show that the element is fit for the use of man.</p> + +<p>Fountains in Roman art are generally personified as figures +of nymphs reclining with urns, or standing holding before them +a large shell.</p> + +<p>One of the latest representations of water in ancient art is +the mosaic of Palestrina (Barthélemy, in Bartoli, Peint. Antiques) +which may be described as a kind of rude panorama of +some district of Upper Egypt, a bird’s-eye view, half man, half +picture, in which the details are neither adjusted to a scale, nor +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page429"></a>429</span> +drawn according to perspective, but crowded together, as they +would be in an ancient bas-relief.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_22"></a>22. ARABIAN ORNAMENTATION.</h5> + +<p>I do not mean what I have here said of the Inventive power +of the Arab to be understood as in the least applying to the detestable +ornamentation of the Alhambra.<a name="FnAnchor_105" href="#Footnote_105"><span class="sp">105</span></a> The Alhambra is no +more characteristic of Arab work, than Milan Cathedral is of +Gothic: it is a late building, a work of the Spanish dynasty in +its last decline, and its ornamentation is fit for nothing but to +be transferred to patterns of carpets or bindings of books, together +with their marbling, and mottling, and other mechanical +recommendations. The Alhambra ornament has of late been +largely used in shop-fronts, to the no small detriment of Regent +Street and Oxford Street.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_23"></a>23. VARIETIES OF CHAMFER.</h5> + +<p>Let B A C, <a href="#fig_72">Fig. LXXII.</a>, be the original angle of the wall. +Inscribe within it a circle, <i>p</i> Q N <i>p</i>, of the size of the bead +required, touching A B, A C, in <i>p</i>, <i>p</i>; join <i>p</i>, <i>p</i>, and draw B C +parallel to it, touching the circle.</p> + +<p>Then the lines B C, <i>p p</i> are the limits of the possible chamfers +constructed with curves struck either from centre A, as the +line Q <i>q</i>, N <i>d</i>, <i>r u</i>, <i>g c</i>, &c., or from any other point chosen as a +centre in the direction Q A produced: and also of all chamfers +in straight lines, as <i>a b</i>, <i>e f</i>. There are, of course, an infinite +number of chamfers to be struck between B C and <i>p p</i>, from +every point in Q A produced to infinity; thus we have infinity +multiplied into infinity to express the number of possible chamfers +of this species, which are peculiarly Italian chamfers; together +with another singly infinite group of the straight chamfers, +<i>a b</i>, <i>e f</i>, &c., of which the one formed by the line <i>a b</i>, +passing through the centre of the circle, is the universal early +Gothic chamfer of Venice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page430"></a>430</span></p> + +<p>Again. Either on the line A C, or on any other lines A <i>l</i> or +A <i>m</i>, radiating from A, any number of centres may be taken, +from which, with any radii not greater than the distance between +such points and Q, an infinite number of curves may be +struck, such as <i>t u</i>, <i>r s</i>, N <i>n</i> (all which are here struck from +centres on the line A C). These lines represent the great class +of the northern chamfers, of which the number is infinity +raised to its fourth power, but of which the curve N <i>n</i> (for +northern) represents the average condition; the shallower chamfers +of the same group, <i>r s</i>, <i>t u</i>, &c., occurring often in Italy. +The lines <i>r u</i>, <i>t u</i>, and <i>a b</i> may be taken approximating to the +most frequent conditions of the southern chamfer.</p> + +<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration"> +<tr> + <td class="caption1">Fig. LXXII.</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="figcenter2"> + <a name="fig_72"><img src="images/img430.jpg" width="500" height="427" alt="Fig. LXXII." title="Fig. LXXII." /></a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p>It is evident that the chords of any of these curves will give +a relative group of rectilinear chamfers, occurring both in the +North and South; but the rectilinear chamfers, I think, invariably +fall within the line Q C, and are either parallel with it, or +inclined to A C at an angle greater than A C Q, and often perpendicular +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page431"></a>431</span> +to it; but never inclined to it at an angle less than +A C Q.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_24"></a>24. RENAISSANCE BASES.</h5> + +<p>The following extract from my note-book refers also to some +features of late decoration of shafts.</p> + +<p>“The Scuola di San Rocco is one of the most interesting +examples of Renaissance work in Venice. Its fluted pillars are +surrounded each by a wreath, one of vine, another of laurel, +another of oak, not indeed arranged with the fantasticism of +early Gothic; but, especially the laurel, reminding one strongly +of the laurel sprays, powerful as well as beautiful, of Veronese +and Tintoret. Their stems are curiously and richly interlaced—the +last vestige of the Byzantine wreathed work—and the +vine-leaves are ribbed on the surfaces, I think, nearly as finely as +those of the Noah,<a name="FnAnchor_106" href="#Footnote_106"><span class="sp">106</span></a> though more injured by time. The capitals +are far the richest Renaissance in Venice, less corrupt and more +masculine in plan, than any other, and truly suggestive of support, +though of course showing the tendency to error in this +respect; and finally, at the angles of the pure Attic bases, on +the square plinth, are set couchant animals; one, an elephant +four inches high, very curiously and cleverly cut, and all these +details worked with a spirit, finish, fancy, and affection quite +worthy of the middle ages. But they have all the marked fault +of being utterly detached from the architecture. The wreaths +round the columns look as if they would drop off the next +moment, and the animals at the bases produce exactly the effect +of mice who had got there by accident: one feels them ridiculously +diminutive, and utterly useless.”</p> + +<p>The effect of diminutiveness is, I think, chiefly owing to +there being no other groups of figures near them, to accustom +the eye to the proportion, and to the needless choice of the +largest animals, elephants, bears, and lions, to occupy a position +so completely insignificant, and to be expressed on so contemptible +a scale,—not in a bas-relief or pictorial piece of sculpture, +but as independent figures. The whole building is a most +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page432"></a>432</span> +curious illustration of the appointed fate of the Renaissance +architects,—to caricature whatever they imitated, and misapply +whatever they learned.</p> + +<div class="pd2"> </div> +<h5><a name="app_25"></a>25. ROMANIST DECORATION OF BASES.</h5> + +<p>I have spoken above (<a href="#app_12">Appendix 12</a>) of the way in which the +Roman Catholic priests everywhere suffer their churches to be +desecrated. But the worst instances I ever saw of sacrilege and +brutality, daily permitted in the face of all men, were the uses +to which the noble base of St. Mark’s was put, when I was last +in Venice. Portions of nearly all cathedrals may be found +abandoned to neglect; but this base of St. Mark’s is in no +obscure position. Full fronting the western sun—crossing the +whole breadth of St. Mark’s Place—the termination of the most +noble square in the world—the centre of the most noble city—its +purple marbles were, in the winter of 1849, the customary +<i>gambling tables</i> of the idle children of Venice; and the parts +which flank the Great Entrance, that very entrance where +“Barbarossa flung his mantle off,” were the counters of a common +bazaar for children’s toys, carts, dolls, and small pewter +spoons and dishes, German caricatures and books of the Opera, +mixed with those of the offices of religion; the caricatures being +fastened with twine round the porphyry shafts of the church. +One Sunday, the 24th of February, 1850, the book-stall being +somewhat more richly laid out than usual, I noted down the +titles of a few of the books in the order in which they lay, and I +give them below. The irony conveyed by the juxtaposition of +the three in Italics appears too shrewd to be accidental; but the +fact was actually so.</p> + +<p>Along the edge of the white plinth were a row of two kinds +of books,</p> + +<p class="l1">Officium Beatæ Virg. M.; and Officium Hebdomadæ +sanctæ, juxta Formam Missalis et Breviarii Romani +sub Urbano VIII. correcti.</p> + +<p>Behind these lay, side by side, the following:</p> + +<p class="l1">Don Desiderio. Dramma Giocoso per Musica.</p> +<p class="l1">Breve Esposizione della Carattere di vera Religione.</p> + +<p>On the top of this latter, keeping its leaves open,</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page433"></a>433</span></p> + +<p class="l1">La Figlia del Reggimento. Melodramma comica.</p> +<p class="l1"><i>Carteggio di Madama la Marchesa di Pompadour, ossia raccolta di Lettere scritte della Medesima.</i></p> +<p class="l1"><i>Istruzioni di morale Condotta per le Figlie.</i></p> +<p class="l1"><i>Francesca di Rimini. Dramma per Musica.</i></p> + +<p>Then, a little farther on, after a mass of plays:—</p> + +<p class="l1">Orazioni a Gesu Nazareno e a Maria addolorata.</p> +<p class="l1">Semiramide; Melodramma tragico da rappresentarsi nel Gran Teatro il Fenice.</p> +<p class="l1">Modo di orare per l’Acquisto del S. Giubileo, conceduto a tutto il Mondo Cattolico da S. S. Gregorio XVI.</p> +<p class="l1">Le due illustre Rivali, Melodramma in Tre Atti, da <span class="correction" title="space between 'rappresent' +and 'arsi' removed">rappresentarsi</span> nel nuovo Gran Teatro il Fenice.</p> +<p class="l1">Il Cristiano secondo il Cuore di Gesu, per la Pratica delle sue Virtu.</p> +<p class="l1">Traduzione <span class="correction" title="corrected from 'del'">dell</span>’ Idioma Italiana.</p> +<p class="l1">La chiava Chinese; Commedia del Sig. Abate Pietro Chiari.</p> +<p class="l1">La Pelarina; Intermezzo de Tre Parti per Musica.</p> +<p class="l1">Il Cavaliero e la Dama; Commedia in Tre Atti in Prosa.</p> + +<p>I leave these facts without comment. But this being the +last piece of Appendix I have to add to the present volume, I +would desire to close its pages with a question to my readers—a +statistical question, which, I doubt not, is being accurately +determined for us all elsewhere, and which, therefore, it seems +to me, our time would not be wasted in determining for ourselves.</p> + +<p>There has now been peace between England and the continental +powers about thirty-five years, and during that period the +English have visited the continent at the rate of many thousands +a year, staying there, I suppose, on the average, each two or +three months; nor these an inferior kind of English, but the +kind which ought to be the best—the noblest born, the best +taught, the richest in time and money, having more leisure, +knowledge, and power than any other portion of the nation. +These, we might suppose, beholding, as they travelled, the condition +of the states in which the Papal religion is professed, and +being, at the same time, the most enlightened section of a great +Protestant nation, would have been animated with some desire +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page434"></a>434</span> +to dissipate the Romanist errors, and to communicate to others +the better knowledge which they possessed themselves. I doubt +not but that He who gave peace upon the earth, and gave it by +the hand of England, expected this much of her, and has +watched every one of the millions of her travellers as they crossed +the sea, and kept count for him of his travelling expenses, and +of their distribution, in a manner of which neither the traveller +nor his courier were at all informed. I doubt not, I say, but +that such accounts have been literally kept for all of us, and +that a day will come when they will be made clearly legible to +us, and when we shall see added together, on one side of the +account book, a great sum, the certain portion, whatever it may +be, of this thirty-five years’ spendings of the rich English, +accounted for in this manner:—</p> + +<p>To wooden spoons, nut-crackers, and jewellery, bought at +Geneva, and elsewhere among the Alps, so much; to shell +cameos and bits of mosaic bought at Rome, so much; to coral +horns and lava brooches bought at Naples, so much; to glass +beads at Venice, and gold filigree at Genoa, so much; to pictures, +and statues, and ornaments, everywhere, so much; to avant-couriers +and extra post-horses, for show and magnificence, so +much; to great entertainments and good places for seeing sights, +so much; to ball-dresses and general vanities, so much. This, I +say, will be the sum on one side of the book; and on the other +will be <span class="correction" title="originally 'written,'">written:</span></p> + +<p>To the struggling Protestant Churches of France, Switzerland, +and Piedmont, so much.</p> + +<p>Had we not better do this piece of statistics for ourselves, in +time?</p> + + +<hr class="foot" /> +<div class="note"> + +<p><a name="Footnote_93" href="#FnAnchor_93"><span class="fn">93</span></a> Ed. Venetis, 1758, Lib. I.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_94" href="#FnAnchor_94"><span class="fn">94</span></a> Compare <a href="#app_12">Appendix 12</a>.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_95" href="#FnAnchor_95"><span class="fn">95</span></a> L’Artiste en Bâtiments, par Louis Berteaux: Dijon, 1848. My printer +writes at the side of the page a note, which I insert with thanks:—“This +is not the first attempt at a French order. The writer has a Treatise by +Sebastian Le Clerc, a great man in his generation, which contains a Roman +order, a Spanish order, which the inventor appears to think very grand, +and a <i>new</i> French order nationalised by the Gallic cock crowing and clapping +its wings in the capital.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_96" href="#FnAnchor_96"><span class="fn">96</span></a> The lower group in <a href="#plate_17">Plate XVII.</a></p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_97" href="#FnAnchor_97"><span class="fn">97</span></a> One of the upper stories is also in Gally Knight’s plate represented as +merely banded, and otherwise plain: it is, in reality, covered with as delicate +inlaying as the rest. The whole front is besides out of proportion, and +out of perspective, at once; and yet this work is referred to as of authority, +by our architects. Well may our architecture fall from its place among the +fine arts, as it is doing rapidly; nearly all our works of value being devoted +to the Greek architecture, which is <i>utterly useless</i> to us—or worse. <i>One</i> +most noble book, however, has been dedicated to our English abbeys,—Mr. +E. Sharpe’s “Architectural Parallels”—almost a model of what I should +like to see done for the Gothic of all Europe.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_98" href="#FnAnchor_98"><span class="fn">98</span></a> Except in the single passage “tell it unto the Church,” which is simply +the <i>extension</i> of what had been commanded before, i.e., tell the fault first +“between thee and him,” then taking “with thee one or two more,” then, +to all Christian men capable of hearing the cause: if he refuse to hear their +common voice, “let him be unto thee as a heathen man and publican:” +(But consider how Christ treated both.)</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_99" href="#FnAnchor_99"><span class="fn">99</span></a> One or two remarks on this subject, some of which I had intended to +have inserted here, and others in <a href="#app_5">Appendix 5</a>, I have arranged in more consistent +order, and published in a separate pamphlet, “Notes on the Construction +of Sheep-folds,” for the convenience of readers interested in other +architecture than that of Venetian palaces.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_100" href="#FnAnchor_100"><span class="fn">100</span></a> Not, however, by Johnson’s <i>testimony</i>: Vide Adventurer, No. 39. +“Such operations as required neither celerity nor strength,—the low drudgery +of collating copies, comparing authorities, <i>digesting dictionaries</i>, or accumulating +compilations.”</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_101" href="#FnAnchor_101"><span class="fn">101</span></a> We have done so—theoretically; just as one would reason on the +human form from the bones outwards: but the Architect of human form +frames all at once—bone and flesh.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_102" href="#FnAnchor_102"><span class="fn">102</span></a> Of course mere multiplicability, as of an engraving, does not diminish +the intrinsic value of the work; and if the casts of sculpture could be as +sharp as the sculpture itself, they would hold to it the relation of value +which engravings hold to paintings. And, if we choose to have our churches +all alike, we might cast them all in bronze—we might actually coin churches, +and have mints of Cathedrals. It would be worthy of the spirit of the +century to put milled edges for mouldings, and have a popular currency of +religious subjects: a new cast of nativities every Christmas. I have not +heard this contemplated, however, and I speak, therefore, only of the results +which I believe are contemplated, as attainable by mere mechanical +applications of glass and iron.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_103" href="#FnAnchor_103"><span class="fn">103</span></a> I shall often have occasion to write measures in the current text, therefore +the reader will kindly understand that whenever they are thus written, +2 ,, 2, with double commas between, the first figures stand for English feet, +the second for English inches.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_104" href="#FnAnchor_104"><span class="fn">104</span></a> I cannot suffer this volume to close without also thanking my kind +friend, Mr. Rawdon Brown, for help given me in a thousand ways during +my stay in Venice: but chiefly for his direction to passages elucidatory of +my subject in the MSS. of St. Mark’s library.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_105" href="#FnAnchor_105"><span class="fn">105</span></a> I have not seen the building itself, but Mr. Owen Jones’s work may, +I suppose, be considered as sufficiently representing it for all purposes of +criticism.</p> + +<p><a name="Footnote_106" href="#FnAnchor_106"><span class="fn">106</span></a> The sculpture of the Drunkenness of Noah on the Ducal Palace, of +which we shall have much to say hereafter.</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="art" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="pg"> +<table class="pg" border="0" style="background-color: #ddddee;" cellpadding="10"> +<tr><td><a name="tntag" id="tntag"></a> +<h4>Transcriber's Note:</h4> +<p>This is the first volume of three.<br /> </p> + +<p>The index is in Volume III, with links to all +three volumes; and some footnotes are linked between volumes.<br /> </p> + +<p>These links are designed to work when +the book is read on line. 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