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 ST. PETER'S, ROME.
 
 HISTOPiY 
 
 MODERN STYLES OF ARCHITECTURE 
 
 By JAMES FEEGUSSON, D.C.L., F.Ii.S., &c. 
 
 Opei-rt, Paris. 
 
 THIRD EDITION, EEVISED. 
 By EGBERT KERK, Architect, F.R.I.B.A. ; 
 
 FKLI.OW AND EMKRITUS PlIOFESSOR OF KING'S COLLEGE, LONDON; AUTHOR OF "THE GENTLEMAN'S 
 HOUSE," " THE CONSULTING ARCHITECT," &C. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES— VOL. I. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 LONDON: 
 JOHN MUUIIAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 
 
 1891.
 
 NA 
 'XOO 
 
 /J 
 
 PBEFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION (1891). 
 By the Editor, 
 
 Let us fix our attention upon the memorable year 1851. 
 
 It has been the fashion in this generation, with certain eager and 
 almost too well meaning people of the more gesthetic order, to speak of 
 "the nineteenth century" with scorn and derision. In all its thoughts, 
 ^^•ords, and works, they affirm it to be inartistic and vulgar, and this 
 more especially — sad to say — in England. Nothing that animates it 
 I )eing good, everything that it produces goes inevitably to the bad. Nor 
 do these melancholy if estimable enthusiasts entertain any great hopes, 
 on ordinary ground, of the approaching future. It is still unpromising ; 
 and their simple advice is that we should call back to life other and 
 better days. Accordingly, certain periods of the past have been quoted 
 for " revival " by this and that section of the malcontents, sometimes with 
 fervour, always with confidence. Imitation of course has followed freely ; 
 and in literature, in music, in painting and sculpture, and most of all in 
 architecture and its allied arts, the efforts that have been made to cover 
 this nakedness and deformity of our era with the cast-off garniture of 
 bygone time have been so vigorous, so earnest, and so sincere, as not 
 merely to deserve passing respect, but to command the more enduring 
 credit that is due to unquestionable success ; so that on the whole 
 the achievement of reform has doubtless gone far to justify the act of 
 revolt. 
 
 We need not, however, trouble ourselves for the moment with a 
 consideration of these matters. We may admit that the nineteenth 
 century has many sins to answer for, perhaps too many. But let us look 
 at the historical year 1851. Not only does it divide incidentally 
 one half of this nineteenth century from the other, but it happens to 
 separate a quite old-fashioned half -century from one of an entirely new 
 character — the old half the fag-end of a listless past, the new half the 
 commencement of a reanimated future. The Victorian Age of English 
 Art, as a period in which history will unquestionably recognise very 
 remarkable qualities, begins with the International Exhibition of 1851. 
 
 No one whose eyes are open to the question will be dis]5osed to deny 
 VOL. I. b
 
 vi PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 that since that date the artistic sense in England has been steadily develop- 
 ing itself in all directions on new lines ; and it may be safely asserted 
 that a corresponding evolution of a new feeling for Art has been taking 
 place all over the civilised world. There are those, of course, who sneer 
 at our Great Exhibitions, their puffs, and their prizes ; but this is idle. 
 More thoughtful people, and more practical, prefer to regard the 
 celebrated concourse of 1851 as the successful commencement of a long 
 and still continuing series of International Industrial Coniwcations, 
 organised with enthusiasm in all the chief cities of the world in qiiick 
 succession, with this magnanimous pui-pose— the universal expansion and 
 improvement of the Arts of Industry, of every order equally, and alike in 
 every land. Smely it is scarcely too much to say that no other enter- 
 prise of such practical and palpable beneficence has ever been attempted 
 in the long history of mankind. Far from seeing the end of it yet, we 
 are but at the beginning of its invaluable results ; and one of the principal 
 of these results is to be discerned in a very striking movement, more or 
 less conspicuous everywhere, for the popularising of Art. On every hand 
 there is, in one form or another, a loosening of bonds. Restraints of 
 worn-out traditions are being cast off. Local mannerisms are being lost. 
 Pseudo-patriotic exclusiveness and educational prejudice are disappear- 
 ing under the genial influence of world-wide intimacy and co-operation. 
 The genius of the human race at large, as one great industrial and 
 artistic family, is everywhere taking up liberal popular ground. And 
 amongst the rest, the long-renowned Industrial Art of Architecture, 
 Queen of the Industrial Arts, has not overlooked her mission. 
 
 In this view of the case, the most promising course to adopt in any 
 attempt to trace the progress of Architectm-e throughout the world in 
 the Yictorian Era would be to note its condition in each of the great 
 communities at the year 1851, and from thence to follow its local 
 progress, with express reference to Industrial Art at large, comprehen- 
 sively, popularly, and non-academically. As regards England the 
 consequence of such a study must be this. We soon leave behind us 
 the constrained and pedantic " Fine Art of Architecture " of the 
 academical books, applying itself to certain accepted kinds of dog- 
 matically glorified building and to nothing else. We find om'selves in a 
 far wider sphere of influence. The very formula of Eoyal Academies 
 — the Renaissance formula of " Painting, Sculpture, and Architec- 
 tm'e" — changes its significance. Architecture, more especially, steps 
 down from her academic pedestal, and welcomes to her embrace a whole 
 family of non-academicals. " Minor Arts " is what they have been called 
 hitherto, supplementary arts, subsidiary arts, and so on, mere ornamental 
 and decorative arts, inferior arts, commonplace industries. Architectural 
 Art now embraces them all, no longer of unequal dignity with herself, 
 but of altogether equal and similar comeliness of grace. Bone of her 
 bone, indeed, and flesh of her flesh, they group themselves, as they have
 
 PEEFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. vii 
 
 always done, around the ancestral central Art of Building, but they are 
 constituents now and colleagues, not poor retainers and subordinates. 
 We have only to think for a moment of the generous philosophy of this 
 unity, and w^hat must follow is precisely what we see. The English 
 architect of to-day has for his fellows and fellow-workers, no longer the 
 dainty dilettante only, or the pious ecclesiologist, but all those popular 
 handlers of the pencil — the same pencil as his own — the decorator, the 
 colourist, the ornamentalist, the glass-painter, the modeller, the carver, 
 the statuary, the metal-worker, the furnisher, the tissue-worker, the clay- 
 Avorker, the plaster-worker, in short, the whole order of those designers 
 who produce Art Architectural, amongst whom he is sufficiently proud to 
 l)e, as his name implies Architectus only, technical chief. 
 
 Looking at the backward condition of artistic taste in England prior 
 to the epoch of 1851, and the prominent position which the country has 
 since assumed in the march of industrial progress in general, it is only 
 natural that the change of principle and practice thus accounted for 
 should manifest itself more distinctly here than elsewhere. But at the 
 same time we have now to class with England on this interesting ground 
 on more equal terms than formerly, not only the sister kingdoms of 
 Scotland and Ireland, but the whole of the Anglo-Saxon Empire. Canada, 
 Australia, New Zealand, the Cape, India, have all felt the same glad 
 influence in different degrees and forms ; and — what may seem at first 
 sight strange — the exceedingly independent United States of America, 
 without a moment's compromise of their self-confidence, have preferred to 
 follow the course of English progress with a fidelity of kindred and indeed 
 filial feeling that is most interesting and flattering to contemplate. 
 
 On the Continent of Europe we should scarcely expect to be able to 
 discern the same development of free and popular Art ; for the business 
 of design has hitherto been always more free and popular there than in 
 England. But nevertheless it is clearly to be seen that in France, in 
 Belgium and Holland, in Germany and Austria, in Italy, and even in 
 Russia, the invariable, because inevitable, consequence of international 
 competition and rivalry has been to liberate and popularise all Industrial 
 Art whatever, and, amongst the rest, to release practical Architecture 
 more or less from a feeling of academical restraint. Everywhere, in a 
 word, during the last forty years, the thoughts of architects have been 
 widening with the progress of the w^orld. 
 
 The historical additions now made to our author's work will be found 
 to turn upon the general idea thus indicated. There is appended to the 
 various sections which deal with the several nationahties such further 
 historical matter as appears in each case to be necessary under the heading 
 of " Recent Architecture ; " and it is hoped that the appropriation 
 chiefly to England and America of the additional space at command will 
 be approved by the reader, on account of the peculiar interest which will 
 be found to attach to the progress of the Xvl in the Anglo-Saxon portions 
 
 hi
 
 viii PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 of the world. But as regards the original text of the work it has been 
 thought best to make no alteration whatever ; and the Editor has there- 
 fore confined liimself to the task of introducing occasional comments, 
 with the object, not of correcting the author, but of accommodating his 
 bold and forcible opinions to the modified thinking of the present day, 
 and perhaps to the practical experience of the working architect. 
 Fergusson's text is therefore left absolutely as he left it, and the inten- 
 tion is that the added observations shall be accepted and considered 
 by the reader always as explanations most respectfully offered to carry 
 forward the views of a critic who, although far in advance of his time, 
 has necessarily been overtaken by the rapid progress of subsequent 
 events. 
 
 The Editor has to record his cordial acknowledgments to the pro- 
 fessional journals, as well as to private architects and to the Council 
 of the Institute, for the additional illustrations which are introduced. 
 
 It has to be noted that in every case the Editorial Additions are 
 printed in the same type as the text, but distinguished by the use of 
 &?Y/cM.s, thus [ ]. So also in the Lidex and the List of Illustrations 
 (although not in the Table of Contents) the new matter is distinguished 
 by the use of italics. 
 
 The additional engravings have been produced, with his usual care and 
 intelligence, by ilr. Cooper, by whom the whole of the original illustra- 
 tions were supplied. In respect of the choice of subjects, the Editor's 
 very difficult task has been to select from the overwhelming mass of 
 admirable examples, not an adequate, but a manageable number, which 
 should serve the simple purpose of indicating the lines of progress. 
 
 Thanks are especially due to the accomplished writer for the Memoir 
 of the Author which forms part of the prefatory matter, and none the 
 less for his interesting postscript ; also to the Council of the Royal 
 Asiatic Society from whose Transactions the Memoir is taken. 
 
 Robert Kerr. 
 
 London, January, 1891.
 
 THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE TO THE FIRST 
 EDITION (1862). 
 
 When the ' History of Architecture ' was first published iu two 
 volumes, in 1855, it was intended that it should have been followed 
 liy a thii'd, completing the history of the art from the earliest day 
 to the present time. Various engagements and occupations have 
 hitherto prevented this intention from being carried into effect, and 
 the concluding portion of the work is in consequence now given to 
 the public in such a form that it may either be bound up as the third 
 volume of the ' Handbook,' or treated as an entirely separate work 
 complete in itself. 
 
 Even independently of the lapse of time which has occurred since 
 the fii-st publication, the nature of the subject demands a different 
 class of treatment from that pursued in the earlier portions of the 
 History. For reasons explained in the Introduction to this volume, 
 it is no longer possible to treat it as the consecutive history of an 
 important art, carried out in every part of the globe on the same well- 
 understood and universally acknowledged principles. Extraneous 
 matters and individual tastes and caprices have been imported into 
 the practice of the art to such an extent, that it is at every page 
 necessary to stop to explain and guard against them ; and this volume 
 in consequence becomes far more a critical essay on the histoiy of the 
 aberrations of the art during the last four centuries than a narrative of 
 an inevitable sequence of events, as was the case in the previous parts 
 of the work. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, the mode of treatment is the same as nearly 
 as was practicable with such different materials, in order that the 
 whole might form one work ; so that, except the essential distinction 
 between the principles on which the ancient and modern styles are 
 caiTied out, there is little charige beyond a slight variation in the 
 nature of the illustrations. These are generally of a much more 
 pictorial character than those of the former volumes, the object being 
 to reproduce the stone picture as conceived in the mind of an indi- 
 vidual artist, not to trace the gradual development of a quasi-natural
 
 X PREFACE TO TPIE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 art. In consequence of this, there are fewer plans than in the ' Hand- 
 book,' and a smaller number of purely architectural illustrations. 
 
 "Where plans of churches and other similar buildings are intro- 
 duced which admit of comparison with those engraved for the previous 
 volumes, they are all reduced to the same scale of 100 feet to 1 inch, 
 but this has been impossible with palaces and many civil edifices, 
 their extent being such as to require a space of three or four times the 
 size of a page of this volume for their display ; and the dimensions 
 even of many of the churches are such that it has been found imprac- 
 ticable, from the same cause, to adhere to the scale of 50 feet to 1 inch 
 for elevations and sections, as was the case in the previous volumes. 
 This is of infinitely less importance here than it would have been 
 when speaking of the true styles, inasmuch as the plans of Renais- 
 sance churches are seldom interesting as developments of any system, 
 and those of civil buildings are rarely of any value beyond showing 
 the general dimensions of the edifice, while in palaces and dwelling- 
 houses, unless the plans of two or three storeys are given, the whole is 
 unintelligible. Even when this is done, their complicated and utihta- 
 rian arrangement can never compete in interest with the great internal 
 halls of temples or churches, which are often quite as artistic and as 
 monumental as the exterior of the buildings which contain them. 
 
 It need, perhaps, hardly be mentioned that the present work by 
 no means pretends to be a complete history of the Renaissance styles. 
 So numerous are the examples, that it Avould require three or four 
 volumes to describe them all, and more than a corresponding in- 
 crease in illustrations to render them intelligible. All that has been 
 attempted has been to select the best and most typical specimens in 
 each country, and these only ; and by means of them to point out the 
 peculiarities and to explain the aims of each separate nationality ; 
 while, as a general rule, only such buildings have been described at 
 length as have been also illustrated by the woodcuts. It would, of 
 course, have been easy to enlarge the text to almost any extent by 
 enumerating or describing other examples ; but as nothing can be 
 more unintelligible than a mere verbal description of a building, this 
 has, as far as possible, been avoided, and all that has been aimed at is 
 to assign to the buildings of the Renaissance styles the same relative 
 importance and amount of space as was given to those of the true 
 styles in the previous volumes. 
 
 A work of this extent, and with illustrations of the size here 
 adopted, cannot make any pretensions to be considered as a scientific 
 treatise in the ordinary acceptation of the term ; great pains have 
 therefore been taken to avoid all technical terms or expressions which 
 might be unintelligible to the general reader. But the word " Order " 
 occurs so often, and is used throughout in so technical a manner, that 
 it may be useful to define exactly in wliat sense it is employed. The 
 
 I
 
 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 ancients generally grouped their different styles of ornamentation into 
 three classes : the Doric, or that used by the jrare Hellens, or Dorian 
 Greeks ; the' Ionic, used by the Asiatic Greeks, and by the Pelasgi, or 
 Arcadians, in Greece ; and lastly, the Corinthian, which, though probably 
 invented or borrowed from the Egyptians by the Greeks, was the Eoman 
 Order par excellence. The two first were 
 also used at Eome, but with considerable 
 modifications, which, however, were any- 
 thing but improvements ; and the Italian 
 Systematists of the sixteenth century 
 added the Tuscan, which they erroneously 
 assumed to be only a simpler form of 
 Doric, and the Composite, which was only 
 one of the hundred modifications of the 
 Corinthian Order as employed by the 
 Romans. Palladio, Vignola, and others 
 of that school, fixed the dimensions, the 
 forms and details of these five Orders, 
 by laws which have since that time been 
 considered immutable. In consequence 
 of this, when speaking of an Order in 
 this work, it will always be understood 
 as referring to one of these five classes as 
 defined by the architects of the sixteenth 
 century. In the sense in which it is here 
 used, an Order always consists of two 
 principal parts, — a vertical column and 
 a horizontal entablature. The column 
 always consists of three parts, — a base, a 
 shaft, and a capital. The entablature, in 
 like manner, always includes an architrave, a frize, and a cornice. To 
 these the Italians often added a pedestal below and a balustrade above ; 
 but these are not parts of the " Order," which is always understood to 
 include only the six parts first mentioned. 
 
 Diagram explaining the parts of an 
 " Order." 
 
 It may add to the clearness of what follows, if before concluding I 
 add one word regarding the position assigned to Mediaeval Art in this 
 and the earlier work, though it may appear to be more personal to 
 myself than is quite desirable. When the first two volumes were 
 published, it was objected that I did not appreciate, and consequently 
 did not admire, the Mediseval styles. If the question were only per- 
 sonal, it might be sufficient to reply that a lifetime devoted to their 
 study, which might in the ordinary sense of the term have been far 
 more profitably employed, ought to bo a sufficient answer to that 
 accusation. But the case, as I understand it, may be more clearly
 
 xii PEEFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 stated thus :— No work of human hands is perfect, while it is also 
 true that few honestly elaborated productions of man's intellect are 
 without some peculiar merit of their o^vn ; and on comparing one with 
 the other, it seems as impossible to overlook the merits of the one as 
 to avoid noticing the imperfections of the other. There are few, for 
 instance, but will admit that the Greek style of Architecture possesses 
 a certain purity, an elegance, and a technic perfection, which are 
 wholly wanting in the Gothic. The latter may be infinitely more 
 varied or richer in effects ; more poetic ; more sublime, perhaps— that 
 is not the question— each has merits of its own ; but the man Avho 
 sees no beauty in the one style, and is bUnd to the imperfections of the 
 other, is a partisan, and not a historian of the art, and looks at the 
 subject from a totally different point of view from that to which I 
 have always aspired to attain. While admiring, however, the true 
 Medieval Art with the intensest enthusiasm, I cannot without regret 
 see so much talent employed and so nuich money wasted in producing 
 imitations of it, which though Gothic in outward appearance, are 
 erected in utter defiance of every principle of Gothic Art. Neither 
 can I look without extreme sorrow on the obliteration of everything 
 that is truthful or worthy of study in om- noble cathedrals or beautiful 
 parish chm-ches ; nor do I care to refrain from expressing my dissent 
 from the system wliich is producing these deplorable results. 
 
 If the question is raised which style is most suited to our present 
 pm-poses ? that is a different matter altogether, on which it is not 
 necessary to enter here, as my views on that subject are sufficiently 
 explained in the body of the work ; but I must be allowed to express 
 a hope that no architect or section of architects will consider that 
 there is anything in the remotest degree personal in any expression in 
 this volume. My conviction is that the architects of the present day 
 have shown themselves thoroughly competent to the task they have 
 undertaken, and would prove equally so to any other that can be pro- 
 posed to them ; and if they were allowed to exercise their intellects, 
 and not forced to trust only to their memories, they might do some- 
 thing of which we should have cause to be proud ; but they are 
 working on a wrong system and from false premises, so that success 
 cieems to be impossible. Still, if the Gothic architects would call 
 themselves " Archgeologists," and the Grecians " Scholars," I would 
 bow with due respect to theii* science or their learning ; but though 
 they might produce temples that would deceive Ictinus, or cluu'ches 
 that would mystify a Wickham or a Waynflete, that would not alter 
 the state of the case ; for I deny that either Archeology or Scholar- 
 ship is Architecture according to any reasonable definition of the 
 term, or, consequently, that their reproductions have any claim to be 
 treated as specimens of that art in a work especially dedicated to the 
 Esthetic development of the Art of Uuilding. 
 
 I 
 
 I
 
 PKEFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. xiii 
 
 There is another aspect of the question which in many respects 
 is more sorrowful than even this. In their inconsiderate zeal for 
 Media3val Art, the Archaeologists are fast obliterating all traces of the 
 science they so zealously cultivate. Thirty or forty years ago, if you 
 entered a cathedral in France or England, you at once could say, 
 These arches were built in the age of the Conqueror — that capital 
 belongs to the earlier Henrys — that window tracery must have been 
 executed dming the reign of the first or second Edward ; or that vault 
 during the Tudor period, and so on. Not only could you fix a date on 
 every part and every detail, but you could read in them the feelings 
 and aspirations that influenced the priest who ordered, or the builder 
 or carver who executed them. All this is now changed. You enter a 
 cathedral and admire some iron-work so rude you are sure it must 
 be old, but which your guide informs you has just been put wp by 
 Smith of Coventry. You see some carved monsters so uncouth that 
 no modern imagination could conceive them — "Brown of Cambridge, 
 Sir ; " — some painted glass so badly drawn and so crudely coloured 
 it must be old—" Jones of Newcastle." You decipher with difficulty 
 the archaic inscription on some monumental brass, and arc startled 
 to find it ending in " a.d. 18G2 ; " and so on tlirough the whole church. 
 It is so easy for people who have attained a superior degree of 
 proficiency to imitate the arts of those of a lower stage, that the 
 forgeries are perfect and absolutely undetectable. With a higher 
 class of Art this would be impossible ; but the great recommendation 
 of Gothic Art is, that it is so rude that any journeyman can succeed 
 in imitating it ; and they have done so till all our grand old buildings 
 are clothed in falsehood, while all our new buildings aim only at 
 deceiving. If tliis is to continue. Architecture in England is not 
 worth writing about ; but it is priuci]3ally in the hope that a clear 
 exposition of the mistaken system on which the art is now practised 
 may lead to some amelioration that this work has been written. How 
 far it may be successful depends on those who read it, or from its 
 study may be lead to perceive how false and mistaken the principles 
 are on which modern Architecture is based, and how easy, on the 
 contrary, it would be to succeed if we were only content to follow in 
 the same path which has led to perfection in all countries of the world 
 and in all ages preceding that to which the history contained in tliis 
 volume extends. 
 
 [The qualifications and attitude of the Author. There are 
 certain startling suggestions offered in the concluding paragraphs of this 
 Preface which seem to require that the position and attitude of so 
 courageous a critic should be at once more clearly defined. The reader 
 will no doubt be fully prepared to understand that Fergusson was one 
 of the most prominent writers of his day upon the recondite subject of 
 Architecture. In fact, in the public view he was the most prominent of
 
 xiv THE AUTHOR'S QUALIFICATIONS, &c. 
 
 all. And yet he was not a professional architect. Now it may appear 
 somewhat paradoxical, but it is not, to say that his non-professional 
 position and his non-professional attitude were in a very great degree the 
 secret of his success ; for, in plain words, it was almost essential to 
 such success in England that he should be an amateur. No architect 
 brought up to practical business could find time for so much writing, 
 or especially for so much research. The too technical style, also, of the 
 writer who knows too much of such a subject is not always acceptable, 
 whether to specialists who are well informed or to general readers who 
 are not. An intelligent and cultm-ed amateur, however, going lightly 
 over the ground, may please all ; the unlearned are not mystified and the 
 learned make allowances. During Fergusson's time there were a good 
 many amateurs who were writing freely on architecture — Ruskin, for 
 example, Parker, Leeds, Willis, and any number of local ecclesiologists ; 
 and all were respectfully attended to, even by professional architects — much 
 more, indeed, than their contemporaries who used the pencil and not the 
 pen. The reader, therefore, is not to expect to discover in Fergusson's 
 ^vritings any sense of diffidence, or even of deference to professional 
 superiority. But neither ought the student to be called upon to accept 
 his dicta as if they were the results of a different kind of experience from 
 that wliich he actually possessed. Moreover, as Fergusson's opinions 
 are exceedingly free, and his language equally outspoken, we may fairly 
 assume it to have been one of the most obvious of his principles that his 
 readers shall think as freely as himself, and express themselves, if they 
 please, as plainly. It must be remembered, also, that Fergusson was one of 
 the most unconquerable and inconvincible of men. Those who recollect 
 the incident will never forget the conclnsion which he arrived at, and the 
 words in which he expressed it, as the outcome of his visit to Jerusalem. 
 It had been pointed out to him that his theories respecting the Holy 
 Places were those of one who " had never been there." Very well, he said in 
 effect, now that I have been there, what is the result ? " I have nothing 
 to retract ; and nothing to add ! " If the same self-sufficiency pervades 
 the present book, as it does all his books, why should it not ? 
 Hesitating doctrine may appear to be prudent, but is it found to be 
 acceptable ? 
 
 The peculiar qualifications with which Fergusson was endowed for 
 the position he eventually assumed as the author of books like this were, 
 the possession of a singularly powerful analytical intellect and an acciden- 
 tal but strong inclination towards the study of architecture as a hobby. 
 There is nothing to lead us to believe that a professional education would 
 have made him a distinguished practical architect. The probability 
 perhaps is that he Avould have drifted, like so many others, into the 
 acceptance of peace with honest mercantile profit at any price, and his 
 books would never have been written. But the young merchant in India, 
 possessed of a fair amount of a3sthetic taste and still more of shre\\d
 
 THE AUTHOR'S QUALIFICATIONS, &c. xv 
 
 philosophy, with amjile leisure and enterprise, far removed from the intel- 
 lectual activities of home, and amusing liimself with the curious manifes- 
 tations that surrounded him, was educating himself unconsciously for a 
 kindred career. The contemplation of the majestic remains of ancient 
 building attracted his attention. Study provoked travel, and travel pro- 
 voked study. He was more and more fascinated by the venerable repose 
 of Oriental antiquity, and the quaint and stolid simplicities of its long- 
 descended and still active handicrafts. He became a philosophical 
 explorer of the Old Architecture of the East. Then, as he contemplated 
 the mysterious temples of Hindostan, his speculations, by a not un- 
 familiar instinct, led him backward to the long-lost Temple of Sacred 
 Scripture, more mysterious still. Searching yet closer in his earnestness, 
 the very elements and essences of Art seemed not inaccessible to his 
 investigation ; and it was more than excusable if he dreamed of his return 
 to the prosaic West in the character of a new prophet for the criticism of 
 the Architecture of all time. 
 
 There is one question, however, which may here occur to the expert. 
 This Anglo-Indian amateur would of course have two subjects for study 
 offered to him by those strange remains of building. He could investi- 
 gate either the problems of their construction or the idiosyncrasy of their 
 design. It is enougli to say that he devoted himself to design alone. 
 No doubt he would see that the Art of Architecture is the clothing of 
 the Science of Construction ; but it would be idle to deny that, in the 
 examples which he was so assiduously exploring, this interdependence of the 
 Art and the Science was far from conspicuous. It is scarcely too much 
 to say that decorative superficiation is almost the only rule of Oriental 
 effect, the surface of the work dominant everywhere, the subcutaneous 
 structure never accentuated, seldom developed, sometimes not even 
 permitted to assert its existence. 
 
 We must not expect to discover, therefore, in Fergusson's philosophy 
 all that we might wish to find, or all that he himself might wish to 
 express, of that particular kind of criticism which turns upon the 
 structuresque. Although a critic by nature, he was not a builder by 
 practice. But he does not fail to see and to teach that the architect must 
 be a Builder or he is no true Architect, and that this is one of the leading 
 doctrines of all advanced architectural -wisdom. 
 
 There is another point which demands a word of explanation, namely, 
 the anxiety which the author manifests, lest it should be thought he 
 "did not appreciate and consequently did not admire the Mediaival 
 styles." Many readers wall require to be reminded that the famous 
 " Battle of the Styles " was at the time of writing being hotly contested, 
 and that Fergusson was publicly recognised as a member of " the Classic 
 party." When he at first settled in London on his return from India, and 
 commenced his career as an architectural critic, in 1845, the doctrinal 
 system of Professors Cockerell and Donaldson was something like the
 
 xvi THE AUTHOR'S QUALIFICATIONS, &c. 
 
 following. — The architecture of the ancient Greeks was to be accepted 
 dogmatically, as of heroic, if not of almost supermundane origin. That 
 of the Romans, although a deteriorated version of the Hellenic legend, 
 was still scarcely of this poor world. A Spanish ecclesiastic had 
 declared that the Five Orders were delivered to Solomon out of heaven 
 itself ; but this went too far. Coming to the Dark Ages, however, the 
 less said of them the better ; and even the Middle Ages were as perverse 
 in architecture as in social conditions and religion. The Italians of 
 the sixteenth century, however, by a happy inspiration had reverted 
 to the Roman remains, and their followers to the Greek ; and Modern 
 Europe, led hj France, was still pureuing the revival of the antique, 
 sometimes successfully, sometimes not. This was " Classicism." — On 
 the other hand, there had been recently growing up in England a certain 
 patriotic liking for the curious work of the Middle Ages, which, under a 
 sort of protest, had to be recognised. In this way " Gotliicism " was also 
 being " revived," and had indeed become a rival to Classicism. Not that 
 Classicists could admit the two to be of equal virtue ; but they could be 
 liberal in commendation, catholic in criticism, and eclectic in practice. — 
 Thus there were two academical styles, the Classic and the Gothic ; and 
 in fact, having regard to the peculiar ecclesiasticism of the time, and its 
 demonstrativeness artistically, there might be no serious objection to the 
 Gothic having a monopoly of church work. — But, under the leadership 
 of Pugin, and before long of Beresford Hope, this compromise was 
 called in question. The Gothic ecclesiastical practitioners and their 
 pupils began to constitute themselves a militant party ; and, inasmuch 
 as church-building was acquiring still increasing importance and 
 popularity in the higher architectural practice, and its speciahsts were 
 growing more and more enthusiastic, not to say violent, in their 
 demeanour, tlie time soon arrived when the profession of architects 
 was (in the language of Sir Gilbert Scott) divided into " two hostile 
 camps," regarding each other with "mutual scorn." The Gothicists 
 indeed became so courageous as to press the question plainly why the 
 whole dominion of building-art should not be theii- own. For Classic, 
 they declared, was effete and anomalous altogether, and Gothic the only 
 true and living style.— Thus arose the " Secular Gothic " practice ; and 
 it was upon this ground (for there was absolutely no other practical 
 point at issue but the supremacy of Secular Gothic) that the two parties 
 proceeded to fight " the Battle of the Styles." Within a very few years 
 the rival schools had assumed such an attitude that, in the public com- 
 petition for the Government Oflfices in 1857, the prizes had to be awarded, 
 for the sake of peace, to representatives of the two styles alternately ; 
 which was at least ludicrous. But shortly after this, another opportunity 
 offered for a trial of strength. A President of the Institute of Architects 
 had to be appointed by a vote of the body of Fellows, on the decease of 
 Earl de Grey who had been allowed to hold the position as an honorary
 
 THE AUTHOR'S QUALIFICATIONS, &c. xvii 
 
 member and patron for some-five-anci twenty years. Cockerell, who had 
 retired from active life, was persuaded to accept office for a few months ; 
 and in the meantime the two factions were preparing to join in battle. 
 All the excitement of a parliamentary election was then emulated in 
 the canvassing operations of contending committees, and, when Beresford 
 Hope was defeated by Tite, it was by only so modest a majority that he 
 succeeded on the next occasion unopposed, in formal recognition of the 
 equality of parties.— Thus it was, therefore, that Fergusson, in conse- 
 quence of his being known to be a Classicist in personal taste, would 
 obviously deem it necessary, as the author of a popular historical work, 
 expressly to cultivate impartiality between these struggling schools ; 
 and so it will be easily understood that any apology he would think it 
 desirable to offer, as he does here, would have for its object to deprecate, 
 on the part of one half of his readers, the very natural idea that he " did 
 not appreciate, and consequently did not admire, the Mediasval styles." 
 Perhaps it is correct to say also that at that particular time the claims of 
 MediaBval architecture would manifestly gain, and its admirers be all the 
 more pacified, by this recognition of the necessity for expressly allaying 
 their apprehensions ; but there is, however, another guarantee of Fer- 
 gusson's impartiality which must carry still more weight than any such 
 assurance could convey. It has to be borne in mind that the only atti- 
 tude he ever practically assumed amongst professional architects was that 
 of a critic. Indeed, it is his strong point as a writer that he had no 
 educational predilections, and no personal interests as an active man of 
 business. He was in every respect a free-lance. The student-reader 
 may therefore trust to his guidance with perfect confidence. He could 
 not possibly be a Classicist like Donaldson ; nor a Gothicist like Pugin ; 
 nor even an Eclectic like Digby Wyatt ; he was entirely an outsider. The 
 Battle of the Styles has now died out ; it can scarcely be said to have 
 been fought out. The practical contest was between Secular Gothic and 
 Vernacular European ; and both alike have been supplanted for the time 
 in popular favour by a new compromise. Academically, of course, the 
 Vernacular European remains intact ; and practically the " Flemish 
 Renaissance" of the passing fashion is the successor of the Secular 
 Gothic ; but if the reader insists upon knowing which is the winner, 
 there are many who will answer that for the present both seem to have 
 lost — a result by no means unknown in other kinds of warfare than this. 
 The reader may therefore be all the more pleased to find that, even 
 in such circumstances as these, our Author's courageous criticisms come 
 out of the crucible of his shrewd and candid intelligence with such 
 indisputable impartiality and integrity. The questions which he undei-- 
 took to examine were not the traditions of scholastic dogmatism, l)ut 
 the merits and demerits of common-sensible Art-workmanship. The 
 architect of his ideal was neither Classic dilettante nor Gothic ecclcsi- 
 ologist ; neither plodding prosaic nor dreaming mystic ; but a scholarly
 
 xviii THE AUTHOK'S QUALIFICATIONS, &c. 
 
 craftsman, devoting his best energies to the honest and manly exercise of 
 ripened judgment in practical designing ; self-taught in the studio, and 
 self-made on the building, rather than drilled in the academy ; relying 
 much upon intelligent reflection, and very little upon pedantic con- 
 troversy ; trusting to insight rather than precedent, and to aptitude more 
 than rule ; and so thinking-out for himself, with every care and every 
 confidence, the pleasant problems of his long-descended and admirable 
 Art, for the sake of its acknowledged graciousness and his own continual 
 joy. — Ed.]
 
 THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE TO THE SECOND 
 EDITION (1873). 
 
 In preparing for the press this New Edition of the ' Ilistory of the 
 Modern Styles of Architecture,' the wliolo text has been carefully 
 revised, not only to correct imperfections, but also to admit of the 
 additional knowledge gained during the last ten years being incor- 
 porated in it. This revision has also enabled the author to engraft 
 on the body of the work the experience derived from a tour made 
 through parts of Italy and France, during the spring of last year, 
 with the especial object of verifying or correcting first impressions 
 regarding many important buildings which are the subject of com- 
 ment in the following pages. The death, too, of several eminent 
 British architects has admitted of their works being described in 
 this new edition, which, on the conditions to wdiich the work is 
 limited, could not be done when it was first published. 
 
 With these additions and improvements, it is hoped that the work, 
 as it now stands, may be considered as supplying a want which has 
 hitherto existed in the literature of the subject of which it treats ; 
 no modern work of the same scope being known to exist, either in 
 English or in any foreign language, which gives a condensed and 
 popular account of one of the most important — even if not the most 
 perfect — of the styles of Architecture in use among the civilised 
 nations of the world. 
 
 When tliis work was fii-st published, in 18G2, it was intended — as 
 is explained in the Preface to the First Edition — to form a sequel 
 to the ' Handbook of Architecture,' published in 1855. 
 
 The materials of this Handbook were afterwards re-arranged and 
 enlarged, so as to form the ' History of Ai'cliitecture,' in two volumes, 
 published in 1867, when this volume still occupied the same relative 
 position as the third and concluding volume of the History. As now- 
 reprinted, it is intended to form the Fourth Volume of a new edition 
 of the whole work, which is passing through the press, and Avhich it 
 is intended shall take the following form.
 
 XX PEEFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 It is proposed to reprint the two volumes of the ' Histoiy of 
 Architecture,' with such corrections and additional matter as may be 
 requisite to bring them up to the knowledge of the present day, but 
 leaving out of them all the chapters relating to India. The general 
 history, without India, will thus form a separate work, in two volumes 
 of about 600 pages each, and with not less than 1000 illustrations. 
 
 The Indian chapters now occupy 300 pages, with 200 woodcuts. 
 It is proposed to double the extent of the text, and to add at least 100 
 more illustrations. It will thus form a volume similar in extent to 
 the three others, and will be sold separately. The concluding volume, 
 as before, will be the present one, which brings down the history to the 
 present time. 
 
 By this arrangement, those who possess the original work will 
 not find it superseded or its value destroyed by this new edition, 
 unless they feel specially interested in the Indian branch of the 
 subject, and in that case they can obtain the Indian volume separately 
 without the necessity of purchasing the whole work. On the other 
 hand, those who feel an especial interest in India may obtain all that 
 refers to that country in a single volume especially devoted to the 
 subject. 
 
 It is intended that the first and second volumes shall be published 
 in November next year, and the Indian volume towards the end 
 of 1875. 
 
 20, Lnngham Place, Septcmher, 1873.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 VOLUME I, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Editor's Preface to the Third Edition (1891) v 
 
 Aiitiior's Preface to the First Edition (18G2), and the Qualifications and 
 
 Attitude of the Author ix 
 
 Autlior's Preface to the Second Edition (1873) xix 
 
 List of Illustrations xxiii 
 
 Sketch of the Life of the Author xxvii 
 
 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 The Scheme of the Author — True Styles — Kevival of Classic Literature — 
 Keformation in Religion — Painting and Sculpture — Technic and Plionetic 
 Forms of Art — Examples — Ethnography — Conclusion — Comments .... 1 
 
 BOOK I.— ITALY. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I — Ecclesiastical. Churches anterior to St. Peter's — St. Peter's — 
 Churches subsequent to St. Peter's — Domical Cliurches — Basilican 
 
 Churches : Exteriors ; Interiors Gl 
 
 II. — Secular 114 
 
 I. — Florence 117 
 
 IL — Venice 125 
 
 III.— EoME 137 
 
 IV. — Vicenza 150 
 
 V. — Genoa 156 
 
 VI. — Mantua 1G2 
 
 VII. — Milan • 163 
 
 VIII. — Turin, Naples, &c. 166 
 
 IX. — Conclusion 168 
 
 X. — Recent Architecture .. 172 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 xxii CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK II.— SPAIN AND PORTUGAL. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 Introduction 178 
 
 I. — Ecclesiastical 181 
 
 II.— The Escceial 190 
 
 III.— Secular 107 
 
 IV.— Portugal 210 
 
 V. — Kecent Architecture 212 
 
 BOOK III.— FRANCE. 
 
 Introduction 213 
 
 I.— Ecclesiastical. Renaissance — Revival 21!) 
 
 II. — Secular. Style of Francis I. The Louvre — Chateaux 240 
 
 III. — Style op Henry IV 258 
 
 IV.— Style of Louis XIV. Vtrsailles — Louvre — Hotels 265 
 
 V. — Style of the Empire. Domestic— Trnphiis and Tombs — Conclusion 282 
 
 VI. — Recent Architecture 303
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 1. 
 
 2. 
 3. 
 
 4. 
 
 5. 
 
 6. 
 
 7. 
 
 8. 
 
 9. 
 10. 
 11. 
 12. 
 13. 
 
 14. 
 
 15. 
 
 16. 
 17. 
 
 18. 
 19. 
 
 20. 
 21. 
 22. 
 
 23. 
 
 24. 
 
 26. 
 
 27. 
 
 28. 
 
 29. 
 30. 
 31. 
 
 32. 
 
 St. Feter's^^ome {Frontispiece). 
 
 Sistiue Chapel, Rome 20 
 
 King's College Chapel, Cambridge 21 
 Fi-agment from the Pellegrini 
 
 Chapel, Verona 24 
 
 House in the GriefswalJ .. .. 39 
 
 House at Brunswick 40 
 
 Grimani Palace 41 
 
 Valmarina Palace, Vicenza .. .. 42 
 
 New Cathedral at Boulogne . . 44 
 
 Plan of Church at Mousta . . . . 46 
 
 Section of Church at Mousta .. 47 
 
 View of Church at Mousta.. .. 48 
 
 Plan of Santo Spirito, Florence .. 63 
 Section of part of Church of Santo 
 
 Spirito, Florence 64 
 
 View of the Church of St. Fran- 
 cesco at Rimini 65 
 
 Plan of St. Andrea at Mantua .. 66 
 
 Section of St. Andrea at Mantua 67 
 Elevation of Porch of St. Andrea 
 
 at Mantua 68 
 
 Plan of Church at Todi . . . . 69 
 
 Section of Church at Todi .. .. 70 
 
 Elevation of Church at Todi .. 71 
 
 Santa Maria delle Grazie, Milan 72 
 View of Western Fa9ade of the 
 
 Certosa, near Pavia . . . . 74 
 Plan of St. Peter's as proposed by 
 
 Bramante 76 
 
 Plan of St. Peter's as proposed by 
 
 Sangallo 77 
 
 Elevation of East Front of St. 
 
 Peter's according to Sangallo's 
 
 design 79 
 
 Diagram suggesting arrangement 
 
 of aisles in Sangallo's elevation 80 
 
 Plan of St. Peter's as it now exists 81 
 Elevation of the Western Apse of 
 
 St. Peter's 83 
 
 East Front of St. Peter's . . . . 84 
 
 Section of St. Peter's 88 
 
 View of the lateral Porch of San 
 
 Giovanni Laterano 92 
 
 Principal Fa(,'ade of the Church of 
 
 San Giovanni Laterano . . . . 93 
 
 NO. PAGE 
 
 33. Plan of the Church della Salute at 
 
 Venice 95 
 
 34. View of the Dogana and Church 
 
 della Salute 96 
 
 35. Elevation of principal Fagade of 
 
 the Church of Carignano at 
 Genoa 97 
 
 36. Church of San Carlo at Milan . . 98 
 
 37. Church of San Zaccaria, Venice . . 100 
 
 38. Church of the Kedentore .. ..101 
 
 39. Church of San Giorgio Maggiore, 
 
 Venice 102 
 
 40. Church of Sta. Maria Zobenico, 
 
 Venice 104 
 
 41. Interior of San Giorgio Maggiore, 
 
 Venice 106 
 
 42. Pian of Church of Redentore, 
 
 Venice 106 
 
 43. Plan of Sta. Annunciata at Genoa 107 
 
 44. View of the Interior of the Church 
 
 -of Sta. Annunciata, Genoa .. 108 
 
 45. Church of St. Paul's outside the 
 
 Walls, as recently rebuilt .. Ill 
 
 46. Elevation of part of the Facade of 
 
 Riccardi Palace, Florence .. 118 
 
 47. Section of Riccardi Palace, Florence 119 
 
 48. Cornice of Pitti Palace, Florence 120 
 
 49. Part of the Facade of the Rucellai 
 
 Palace, Florence 122 
 
 50. Guadagni Palace, Florence . . .. 123 
 
 51. North-Eastern Angle of Courtyard 
 
 in Doge's Palace, Venice .. 127 
 
 52. Vaudramini Palace, Venice .. 129 
 
 53. End Elevation of Palazzo, Canier- 
 
 linghi, Venice 130 
 
 54. End Elevation of Libraiy of St. 
 
 Mark, Venice 13'J 
 
 55. Pesaro Palace, Venice 135 
 
 56. Part of the Fa9ade of the Can- 
 
 cellaria at Rome 139 
 
 57. Block Plan of the Farnese Palace 
 
 at Rome 141 
 
 58. Garden front of the Farnese Palace, 
 
 Rome 142 
 
 59. Museum in the Capitol at Rome 143 
 
 60. Villa of Pope Julius, near Rome 145 
 
 61. Plan of the Palace of Caprarola . . 146
 
 XXIV 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS. 
 
 HO. PAGE 
 
 62. Palace of Caprarola, near Rome 146 
 
 63. Facade of the Collegio della Sa- 
 
 pienza 147 
 
 64. Cortile of the Borghese Palace 148 
 
 65. View of the Barberini Palace, 
 
 Rome 149 
 
 66. Part of Facade of theTiene Palace, 
 
 Vicenza 151 
 
 67. Elevation of Chiericate Palace, 
 
 Vicenza 152 
 
 68. Barbarano Palace, Vicenza .. 153 
 
 69. Villa del Capra, near Vicenza .. 154 
 
 70. End Elevation of Basilica at Vi- 
 
 cenza 155 
 
 71. Durazzo Palace, Genoa .. .. 158 
 
 72. Tursi Doria Palace, Genoa .. 158 
 
 73. Part of FaQade of Carega Palace, 
 
 Genoa 159 
 
 74. Little Brignola Palace, Genoa .. 161 
 
 75. Great Court of the Hospital at 
 
 Milan 164 
 
 76. Portion of the Fafade of the Palace 
 
 of the Caserta at Naples .. 167 
 
 76a, Fine Art Galleries, Borne .. 174 
 
 16b. Building on the Cor so, Rome .. 175 
 
 76c. Victor Emanuel Gallery, Milan 176 
 
 77. Plan of the Cathedral at Granada 182 
 
 78. Capital of Cathedral at Jaen .. 184 
 
 79. Puerta de las Cadenas, Cathedral 
 
 of Malaga 185 
 
 80. Plan of the Cathedral at Valla- 
 
 dolid 186 
 
 81. Plan of the Cathedral del Pilar 
 
 at Zaragoza 187 
 
 82. View of the Cathedral del Pilar 
 
 at Zaragoza 188 
 
 83. Tower of the Seo, Zaragoza .. 189 
 
 84. Plan of the Escurial , 191 
 
 85. Bird's-eye View of the Escurial 192 
 
 86. Section through the Church and 
 
 Atrium of the Escurial .. .. 193 
 
 87. Court of the Archiepiscopal 
 
 Palace at Alcala de los Her- 
 nares 198 
 
 88. Paranirafo, Alcala 199 
 
 89. View in the Cloister at Lupiana 200 
 
 90. Court in the Palace .if the In- 
 
 fanta at Zaragoza 201 
 
 91. Plan of the Palace of Charles V. 
 
 in the Alhambra 202 
 
 92. Part Elevation, part Section, of 
 
 the Palace of Charles V. at 
 Granada 203 
 
 93. View of the external Fa9ade of 
 
 the Alcazar at Toledo . . . . 204 
 
 94. View of the Palace at Madrid . . 205 
 
 95. The Museo at Madrid .. .. 207 
 
 96. Carcel del Corte at Baeza.. .. 208 
 
 97. Palace at Ma fra 211 
 
 NO. PAGE 
 
 98. Fa9ade of the Church of St. 
 
 Michael at Dijon 215 
 
 99. Plan of St. Eustache, Paris .. 219 
 
 100. Bay of St. Eustache 220 
 
 101. Part of Facade of Church of St. 
 
 Paul and St. Louis, Paris . . 222 
 
 102. Jesuit style of decoration . . . . 223 
 
 103. Plan of the Dome of the Invalides 
 
 at Paris 224 
 
 104. Section of Dome of the Invalides 
 
 at Paris 225 
 
 105. Fa9ade of the Dome of the In- 
 
 valides at Paris 226 
 
 106. Facade of St. Snlpice, I'aris, as 
 
 originally designed 228 
 
 107. Plan of the Porch of St. Sulpice 228 
 
 108. Plan of the Pantheon at Paris . . 230 
 
 109. View of the West Front of the 
 
 Pantheon at Paris 231 
 
 110. Section of the Dome of the Pan- 
 
 theon at Paris 232 
 
 111. Pier supporting Dome of Pan- 
 
 theon 233 
 
 112. Planof the Madeleine at Paris.. 235 
 
 113. Plan of the Louvre and Tuileries, 
 
 distinguishing the periods at 
 which the various parts have 
 been com]ileted 243 
 
 114. Pavilion de I'Horloge and part of 
 
 Louvre Court 244 
 
 115. Part of the Court of the Louvre 245 
 
 116. Plan of Chateau de Chambord.. 247 
 
 117. Chateau of Chambord .. .. 248 
 
 118. Chateau of Madrid 250 
 
 119. Plan of the Chateau de Bury .. 251 
 
 120. Chateau de Bury 252 
 
 121. Bay of the Episcopal Palace at 
 
 Sens 254 
 
 122. House of Agoes Soi-el at Orleans 255 
 
 123. Window-head, Hotel Vogue, Dijon 256 
 
 124. Canopy of Tomb of Cardinal Am- 
 
 boise at Rouen 257 
 
 125. Central Pavilion of the Tnileries, 
 
 as designed by De Lorme . . 259 
 
 126. Portion of the Facade of the 
 
 Chateau Gaillon 260 
 
 127. Pavilion Flore of the Tuileries, 
 
 and part of the Gallery of the 
 Louvre 261 
 
 128. Plan of the Luxembourg .. .. 262 
 
 129. Elevation of a portion of the 
 
 Courtyard of the Luxembourg 263 
 
 130. Part of the Chateau de Blois .. 266 
 
 131. Planof Versailles as it now exists 268 
 
 132. Section of Great Gallery and part 
 
 Elevation of central block, Ver- 
 sailles 269 
 
 133. Plan of Facade of Louvre .. .. 272 
 
 134. Eastern Fa9ade of the Louvre, 
 
 Paris OTO
 
 LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 XXV 
 
 NO. PAGE 
 
 135. Central Compartment, Northern 
 
 Fa9ade of Louvre 273 
 
 136. Chateau de Meudon, Garden Front 274 
 
 137. Cnateau de Maisons, near Paris 275 
 
 138. Fapade of the Hotel Soubise .. 276 
 
 139. Hotel de Noailles 277 
 
 140. Louis Quatorze Decoration .. 279 
 
 141. Louis Quatorze style of Decora- 
 
 tion 280 
 
 142. View of the Bourse, Paris . . 283 
 
 143. View of the Angle of the Place 
 
 Louis Napoleon, new buildings 
 
 of Louvre 286 
 
 144. Angle of the Library of Ste. 
 
 Genevieve, Paris 289 
 
 145. New Bourse, Lyons 290 
 
 PAGB 
 
 146. Custom House, Rouen .. .. 291 
 
 147. House, Rue SoufRot 292 
 
 148. Rue des Saussaies 293 
 
 149. House, Rue Navarin 294 
 
 150. Coloune de Juillet, on the site of 
 
 the Bastille 295 
 
 151. Porte St. Denis 297 
 
 152. Elevation of the Arc de I'Etoile 298 
 
 153. Entrance to the Eeole Polytech- 
 
 nique 299 
 
 153a. H6tel-de-YUle, Paris .. .. 308 
 
 Ibdtb. Faculty of Medicine, Paris .. 309 
 
 153c. National Library, Paris .. .. 310 
 
 I53d. School of Art, Marseilles .. 312 
 
 153(?. Church of Stc. Hilaire, Rouen 313 
 
 Erratum. — Vol. L pp. (J9, 70, 71, for Lodi, read Todi.
 
 JAMES FERGUSSON: 
 
 A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE.^ 
 
 By William H. White, 
 
 Secretary of the Uoyal Institute of British Arclateds. 
 
 James Fergusson, C.I.E., D.C.L. Oxon., LL.D. Edin., F.R.S., 
 F.G.S., Vice-President of the Royal Asiatic Society, a Past Vice- 
 President of the Royal Institute of British Architects, a Member of the 
 Council of the Royal Geographical Society, a Member of the Society of 
 Dilettanti, and of other learned bodies, was born at Ayr in Scotland, on 
 the 22nd of January, 1808. His father. Dr. William Fergusson, author 
 of ' Notes and Recollections of a Professional Life,' was a man of some 
 mark, who had seen service in various parts of the world, having been 
 present on the Flag ship at Copenhagen in 1801, principal medical 
 officer at the taking of Oporto, in the passage of the Douro, and at 
 Talavera ; and who, after serving in the West Indies, went to live at 
 Edinburgh in the year 1817. James, the younger of Dr. Fergusson's 
 two sons, had consequently the opportunity of beginning his education 
 at the High School of that city. He entered Mr. Irvine's first class 
 there in 1818, and in the following year was in the second class. Dr. 
 Fergusson, however, left Edinburgh in 1821, and at the invitation of 
 H. R. H. the Duke of Gloucester, on whose staff he had acted in France, 
 settled at Windsor, where he ultimately obtained a large and lucrative 
 practice as a physician.^ The subject of this notice was then sent to 
 a private school at Hounslow, and as he was destined for employment 
 in the firm of Fairlie, Fergusson, and Co., of Calcutta, with which his 
 family had been long connected, and in which his elder brother was a 
 partner, his early education was neither academical nor classical. On 
 the coniirary, it was of a very ordinary character. The firm, however, 
 failed soon after James Fergusson's arrival in India, and he became an 
 indigo planter. He also, in conjunction with his brother William, 
 started an independent house of business in Calcutta, from which he 
 
 ' This notice was first published in 
 the Annual Report for 1886 of the Royal 
 Asiatic Society, and is here reprinted by 
 the kind consent of the Council of that 
 
 Society with additions by the writer. 
 
 2 See Dr. Fergusson's ' Notes and Re- 
 collections of a Professional Life,' edited 
 by James Fergusson. London, 1846, 8vo.
 
 xxviii SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JAMES FEKGUSSON. 
 
 appears to have retired at the first opportunity open to him. Com- 
 mercial pm-suits were not to his taste. He took from the very earhesb 
 period great deUght in old buildings, particularly those of a native type, 
 and he was ultimately enabled to gratify his archaeological bent. His 
 rare powers of philosophical thought — ^how acquired, it is now difficult 
 to ascertain— were expended upon the architectural remains to be found 
 in the several locahties he visited during lengthened tours over India, 
 which seem to have occupied him from the years 1834 to 1845, when he 
 returned to England. His route through the length and breadth of the 
 Peninsula, sometimes on a camel's back, sometimes in a palanquin, is 
 given in a map which forms one of the plates of his 'Picturesque 
 Illustrations of Ancient Architect lu-e in Hindustan,' pubhshed in 1848. 
 But prior to the appearance of that valuable work, he had communicated 
 to the Eoyal Asiatic Society, of which he was a Member in 1840, some 
 of the fruit of his earliest labours ; at the close of 1843 he read a Paper, 
 apparently the first he presented to any learned body, on ' The rock- 
 cut Temples of India ' which, after the due presentation of a memorial 
 from the Council of the Society to the Court of Directors of the East 
 India Company, led to orders being sent to the different presidencies, 
 authorising the employment of competent persons to measure and draw 
 the various antiquities remaining there — a fact which led Fergusson to 
 note, somewhat jubilantly, in a reprint of his Paper, that " we may thus 
 escape the hitherto too-well merited reproach of having so long possessed 
 that noble country and done so little to illustrate its history or 
 antiquities." Going out a second time, he was in Bombay in the spring 
 of 1845, and this was the last visit he paid to the country with which 
 his name, as the acknowledged historian of Indian and Eastern 
 Architecture, and indeed of all architecture, must be ever identified. 
 This too was a period of troubles and anxieties, augmented as they 
 were in 1846 by the death of his father, whose memory he has preserved 
 in the interesting work previously referred to. 
 
 Fergusson, when he founded the house of business before mentioned 
 in partnership with his elder brother WiUiam, had always intended to 
 leave it at the earliest opportunity, and he did so ; returning home to 
 build his house in Langham Place, where, having known the pleasures as 
 weU as the discomforts of a planter's life, he kept a very tolerable stable. 
 Bitt he committed the fatal mistake of leaving his name in the, Calcutta 
 house, and was therefore partly responsible for its debts and habilities 
 when the ultimate failure of the business was announced. Happily, in 
 conjunction with Mr. (now Sir) A, H. Layard, he had been the adviser 
 of the Crystal Palace Company in the erection of the Assyrian House at 
 the tropical end of the building (since destroyed by fire), and the author 
 of the Handbook describing that structure ; and at the juncture just 
 alluded to he accepted the invitation of the Company to be their General 
 Manage]-, a post which he entered early in 1856, and occupied till the
 
 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JAMES FERGUSSON. xxix 
 
 middle of 1858. The practical details of the Handel Festival, which 
 still exist with hardly a modification, were all settled by him, in reference 
 to the first Festival in 1857. On leaving the Crystal Palace, he became 
 Secretary to a Bengal Railway, an office which he relinqnished after a 
 short period of service. 
 
 Fergusson's second public contribution to the study of Indian 
 architectm-e was made in 1848, in a Paper read to the Institute of 
 British Architects, on the ' Ancient Buddhist Architecture of India,' 
 which is the first article from his pen printed in the ' Transactions ' of that 
 body. This was followed, almost immediately, by the independent 
 pubUcation of a book, described by him at the close of his days as the 
 best he had ever written, and of which he thought he had sold four 
 copies, entitled, 'An Historical Enquiry into the True Principles of 
 Beauty in Art, more especially with reference to Architecture,' etc. 
 The preface contains a reference to his earlier career, which possesses 
 some social if not historical interest. Offering excuses for the defects 
 of Ms ambitious task, he says : " In the first place, few men have, either 
 from education or the professional pursuits of their life, been less 
 prepared for such a work as this. From boyhood I was destined to the 
 desk. From school I passed to the counting-house ; from that to an 
 indigo factory — of all places in the world, perhaps, the one least suited for 
 a cultivation of any knowledge of the fine arts ; from this to become an 
 acting and active partner in a large mercantile establishment, from the 
 trammels of which, in spite of every endeavour, I have never been able 
 to free myself ; and during the time this work has been in hand I have 
 WTitten, and perhaps, also thought, more about the state of the money- 
 market, indigo, sugar, silk, and such-like articles, than I have regarding 
 architecture, painting, or sculpture. This, in ordinary times, would 
 only have delayed the work, and rendered its completion less speedy ; 
 but the last eighteen months have been times of anxiety and distress 
 to every one connected with mercantile pursuits, and more especially to 
 those connected with the East. All those with whom I was formerly 
 connected have succumbed one after the other. The whole edifice under 
 whose shade I have passed my life has been swept away, and there has 
 been nothing but ruin and misery around me." 
 
 He does not, however, omit to mention his obligations to the late 
 Mr. Edwin Norris, an old Member of the Royal Asiatic Society, for 
 the ethnographical portions of his book, and for the assistance which 
 Mr. Norris, from his extraordinary knowledge of langiiages, was enabled 
 to render. Another quotation from the same preface will serve to 
 illustrate the independence of spirit in which he approached his suliject, 
 and partly account, perhaps, for some of the animosities he afterwards 
 encountered, particularly among archaeologists, wdiile forcing his facts 
 and theories— his " harsh and unfashionable doctrines," as he termed 
 them— into unwilling ears. He says: "I have also had the good
 
 XXX SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JAMES FERGUSSON. 
 
 fortune to spend the best years of my life in countries where Art, though 
 old and decrepit, still follows the same path that led it towards per- 
 fection in the days of its youth and vigour, and, though it may be effete, 
 it is not insane. In the East, men still use theii- reason in speaking of 
 art, and their common sense in carrying theii" views into effect. They 
 do not, as in modern Europe, adopt strange hallucinations that can only 
 lead to brilliant failures ; and, in consequence, though we may feel 
 inclined to despise results, they are perfection itself compared with what 
 we do, when we take into account the relative physical and moral means 
 of the Asiatic and the Anglo-Saxon. ... A course of study pm'sued 
 among the products of art themselves in this manner I have found far 
 more instructi\'e than books of theories are or perhaps ever can be ; and 
 I believe all would find it so if they could follow it in such circumstances 
 as would prevent their being influenced by the eiTors of bad education, 
 or free them from the trammels of the stereotyped opinions of the age. 
 The belief that it has been so to me induces me now to publish the 
 result of my experience. I believe I see the path which other and 
 cleverer men have mistaken ; and as the veriest cripple who progresses 
 in the right direction will beat the strongest pedestrian who chooses 
 a wrong path, I trust to being able to instruct even those before 
 whose superior knowledge and abilities I would otherwise bow in 
 silence." 
 
 At the end of the same preface he tells how he had e\'en then put 
 aside entirely the subject of that volume to give every thouglit and 
 every spare moment to the science of fortification, his head being wholly 
 filled with " walls of brick and mounds of earth of the most murderous 
 form and most utilitarian ugliness." In 184:9 he published his ' Pro- 
 posed New System of Fortification,' the main feature of which was the 
 proposal of earthworks in place of masonry — then a most unfashionable 
 doctrine, though now universally adopted. He further illustrated his 
 ideas by printing a pamphlet entitled ' The Perils of Portsmouth, or 
 French Fleets and English Forts,' the third edition of which appeared 
 in 1853, whereby he forcibly directed public attention to the dangerous 
 insecurity of that great military and naval port ; and this was followed 
 in 185G by a sequel entitled ' Portsmouth Protected . . . with Notes on 
 Sebastopol and other Sieges during the Present War.' The reputation 
 obtained from these works caused him to be appointed a Member of the 
 Eoyal Commission for the Defences of the United Kingdom. 
 
 He contributed to the ' Transactions ' of the Royal Institute of British 
 Architects papers of great value, namely, in 1849, on 'The History of 
 the Pointed Arch ; ' in 1850, on ' The Architecture of Southern India ; ' 
 in 1851, on ' The .Architecture of Nineveh ; ' in 1854, on ' The Archi- 
 tectm-al Splendour of the City of Bijapur,' and ' The Great Dome of 
 Muhammad's Tomb, Bijapur.' During the following year appeared his 
 ' Illustrated Handbook of Architecture,' in two volumes, a work under-
 
 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JAMES FERGUSSON. xxxi 
 
 taken by him at the request of Mr, John Murray, and afterwards 
 enlarged into four closely printed, profusely illustrated octavo volumes, 
 containing the ' History of Ancient and Medifeval Architecture ' (2 vols.), 
 the ' History of the Modern Styles of Architecture ' (1 vol.), and the 
 ' History of Indian and Eastern Architecture '(1 vol.), the last one bearing 
 the date of 1876 ; and it may be added that, of all the many volumes 
 which bear Fergusson's name on the title-page, these are perhaps the 
 only works from which he derived any emolument, the majority of his 
 writings having been brought out at his own cost for the edification of 
 a necessarily small number of readers. 
 
 An important characteristic of Fergusson's labours lay in the courage 
 with which he maintained the opinions he had once given to the world. 
 All or most of his so-called theories were started early in life, and they 
 were seldom if ever withdrawn as untenable, though capable, as he often 
 admitted, of obvious modification. In his first great architectural effort, 
 ' The Principles of Beauty,' &c., published in 1849, he devoted a portion 
 (pp. 385-393) to the mode in which the ancient Greek Temples were 
 lighted. It seemed to him, even then, absurd to suppose that while the 
 Egyptians had been so long familiar with the " clearstory," by which he 
 translated the word ottolov, the architects of ancient Greece should 
 have remained in ignorance of it ; and he contended that they were too 
 artistic, either to shut out the light of day from their temples, as some 
 thought, or to expose an ivory statue to the atmosphere even of Athens, 
 as the text of Pausanias was interpreted to imply. He treated the same 
 subject on a similar basis at a meeting of the Royal Institute of 
 British Architects in 1861 ; and having prepared a large model of the 
 Parthenon, complete, with its roof and " clearstory," as he believed it 
 originally existed, he wrote as late as 1883, ' The Parthenon : an Essay 
 on the mode by which light was introduced in Greek and Roman 
 Temples ' — a subject of the utmost interest to architects and artists, as 
 well as to archaeologists, but one which, during all the years that passed 
 while he was writing about it, failed to elicit anything like enthusiasm 
 either from theoretical critics or from practical men. On other ground 
 further east Fergusson's perseverance was attended with more immediate 
 success. In 1847 he published a work in large octavo form entitled 
 ' An Essay on the Ancient Topography of Jerusalem,' grounded on the 
 plans and measurements of Catherwood, Arundale, and Bonomi wdio by 
 a singular chance had been employed by the Turks to repair the so- 
 called " Mosque of Omar " in Jerusalem, and had seized the opportunity 
 to make complete drawings of the edifice. In this remarkable essay he 
 contended that the present Church of the Holy Sepulchre does not cover 
 the true burial-place of our Saviour, but that the true site of the Holy 
 ■Sepulchre is the " Dome of the Rock," wdiere the " Mosque of Omar " 
 now stands, wliich building he believed, from the evidence of the archi- 
 tecture, to be the identical Church erected by Constantine the Great
 
 xxxii SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JAMES FERGUSSON. 
 
 over the tomb of oui" Saviour at Jerusalem. The work fell, to use his 
 own word, " stillborn." But in 1860 an article appeared in the 
 Edbiburgh Revinv, on " The Churches of the Holy Land," and 
 Fergusson replied to it, the following year, with a pamphlet entitled, 
 ' Xotes on the Site of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem,' in which he 
 repeated his contention and concluded with expressing his belief that in 
 a very short time it would be generally acknowledged that he was right. 
 A storm of opposition to this theory was thereby raised, but at the 
 same time the idea of making an acciu'ate survey of the Holy City was 
 induced by the novel views he advocated, and carried out at the cost of 
 Miss (now Lady) Burdett Coutts by Capt. (now Sir) C. W. Wilson, E.E. 
 At the same time his personal influence was rapidly increasing, and his 
 views gained adherents. I have it on the authority of Sir George 
 Grove, his colleague at the Crystal Palace, liis coUaborateur in the 
 Dictionary of the Bible, and his intimate friend, that the Palestine 
 Exploration Fund had its origin in a remark of Fergusson's addressed 
 to him during the building of the Assyrian House in the Crystal Palace 
 at Sydenham, in the year 1853 — a complaint that there was no 
 exhaustive and accurate Concordance of the Proper Names of the Bible. 
 Nor did he confine himself to influence. His purse was open for the 
 prosecution of his favourite investigations, when he had confidence in 
 the investigator. The first large map of the Haram Area at Jerusalem 
 was drawn at his cost. In a letter to the Times, published on the 17th 
 of January, 1886, about a week after Fergusson's death. Colonel Sir 
 C. W. Wilson, R.E., wrote : " It was Mr. Fergusson who enabled me 
 to make those tentative excavations at Jerusalem in 1865, which led 
 the way to the better known, and much more extensive excavations 
 which were afterwards carried out by Sir Charles Warren for the 
 Palestine Exploration Fund. In forwarding the necessary funds Mr. 
 Fergusson, with characteristic fairness, wrote, * Dig wherever you like ; 
 you cannot dig anywhere without adding something to our knowledge 
 of Jerusalem ; and if you want more money, you can have it.' It is 
 also no secret, I believe, that Mr. Fergusson was prepared to pay the 
 cost of certain excavations in the Haram Area, on the result of which 
 he acknowledged his theories must stand or fall, and that the persistent 
 refusal of the Sultan to allow excavations to be made in that area alone 
 prevented him from putting his theories to practical test." His views 
 on Jerusalem topography and on the Temple are given in a condensed 
 form in two remarkable articles in the ' Dictionary of the Bible,' 
 vols. i. and ii. 
 
 Fergusson continued his inquiries into the subject with unabated 
 persistency, and in 1878 published a work of more than three hundred 
 quarto pages, fully illustrated with plates and woodcuts, on 'The 
 Temples of the Jews and the other buildings in the Haram Area at 
 Jerusalem,' in which he maintained his original opinions in respect bf
 
 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JAMES FERGUSSON. xxxiii 
 
 the Mosque of Omar, as being the original church erected by Con- 
 stantine, and developed them by learned and minute historical 
 references. 
 
 The facts brought to hglit l^y the publication of the Marquis de 
 Vogue's book on ' Syrie Centrale,' formed a subject of intense interest 
 to him, and through his influence the Royal Gold Medal for Architecture, 
 which has been given annually since 1848 l)y Her Majesty the Queen to 
 some architect or man of science of any country, was offered to and 
 accepted by the Marquis in 1879. Nor is it any secret that the recom- 
 mendations for this honour, made by the Royal Institute of British 
 Architects in 1883 on behalf of Mr. Penrose, and in 1885 on behalf of 
 Dr. Schliemann, were brought about by Fergusson's earnest advocacy. 
 Some years previously, in 1871, he had received it himself for "patient 
 and zealous industiy, and power, as an architectural historian, and for 
 the faithfulness, abihty, and truthfulness with which he had fulfihed 
 his task," the words used by the late Thomas H. Wyatt, when, as 
 President, he presented the Royal Medal to Fergusson. 
 
 In 18G7 Fergusson described to the Royal Asiatic Society the 
 Amravati Tope in Gantur, and illustrated his subject with the aid of 
 photographs and casts. This was the year of the Great Exhibition at 
 Paris, where, with the consent of the British Government, a large collection 
 of photographs of Indian Architecture, including the Tope, was being 
 exhibited in the Indian Court, and the facts connected with the collec- 
 tion are so identified with Fergusson and his method of research, and 
 are also so interesting, told as they are by himself, that they should find 
 a place in his Memoir. Having just completed the ' History of 
 Architecture,' and enjoying, consequently, some leisure, he accepted, on 
 the suggestion of the late Sir Henry Cole, the task of aiTanging a number 
 of photographs of Indian Architecture, for the Paris Exhibition, and 
 he proposed that some casts of sculpture or some arcliitectm'al fragments 
 should be added, to enable students to judge of the merit of the objects 
 from actual specimens of the work. But the necessity of making such 
 casts was obviated by the discovery that portions of an Indian monu- 
 ment — the Amravati Tope — were then in London. These marbles had 
 oeen excavated as far back as 1845, and sent to Madras, where they had 
 lain exposed to wind and rain for some ten or twelve years. They had 
 then been sent to England, and no room having been found for them in 
 the India Museum, they were deposited at Fife House, in a disused 
 coach-house, where Fergusson found them. The marbles were then 
 photographed, the photographs were pieced together, and thereby two 
 elevations of the outer Rail, and one of the inner Rail, of the Amravati 
 Tope, were obtained. " Dming the three or four months," to use his 
 own words, "which I had spent poring over these photographs, I had 
 not only become familiar with their forms, but had acquired a con- 
 siderable amount of unexpected knowledge of ancient Indian art and
 
 xxxiv SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JAMES FERGUSSON. 
 
 mythology " — the greater part of which, he afterwards adds, was quite 
 new to him. 
 
 These marbles and pliotographs, and the Paper respecting them 
 contributed to the Eoyal Asiatic Society, were the prehide to a work 
 which was prepared by Fergusson under the authority of the Secretary 
 of State for India in Council, and published in 1868, namely, 'Tree 
 and Serpent Worship : or Illustrations of Mythology and Art hi 
 India, in the first and fourth centuries after Christ, from the Sculptures 
 of the Buddhist Topes at Sanchi and Amravati.' Lord Iddesleigh, then 
 Sir Stafford Northcote and in office, had entered warmly into Fergusson's 
 views on this subject, and the Counc'l had granted permission, and also 
 the necessary funds, to jjublish all the information then possessed 
 regarding the Amravati Tope ; moreover Fergusson, in the course of his 
 investigations at the Library of the India Office, had lighted on a 
 beautiful series of drawings of the Sanchi Tope made in 1854, and at 
 the same time there arrived from India a set of photographs of the same 
 monument. The result was eminently gratifying to Fergusson. A 
 very valuable work, upon a subject which may ultimately obtahi further 
 elucidation, was thus placed at public disposal for a comparatively 
 small sum — a work to which General Cunningham and others con- 
 tributed important appendices. 
 
 The perplexed questions connected with megalithic remains next 
 occupied Fergusson's attention^ although the subject was not unfamiliar 
 to hira, seeing that he had wTitten an article on Stonehenge, which 
 appeared, in July 1860, in the Quarterly Revieu", and another in the 
 same Revieiv in April 1870, which was entitled 'Non-Historic Times.' 
 His contention with regard to these singular and inexplicable remains 
 was that they are by no means so old as antiquaries wish to believe, and 
 his ' Rude Stone Monuments in all Countries : their Age and LTses,' 
 treated of remains known to exist not only in Europe, but also in Asia 
 and America. 
 
 Prior to this, a new post had been created at the Office of Her 
 Majesty's Works and Public Buildings, with the avowed object of 
 securing Fergusson's services there. In January 1869 he was appointed 
 by the then First Commissioner (Mr. A. H. Layard) "Secretary of 
 Works and Buildings," but the business he was expected to do was not 
 to his taste. A Committee was consequently called together, consisting 
 of two Treasury officials and the late Mr. Austin, who stated in their 
 Report that the First Commissioner required the aid of an officer con- 
 versant in a high degree with architecture, in reference to questions 
 connected with existing or contemplated buildings, and on their advice 
 Fergusson's new title was altered to " Inspector of Public Buildings and 
 Monuments." His recommendations, however, were not adopted hi one 
 important instance, namely, that of the recently-erected Royal Courts of 
 Justice, and he retired at the first opportunity which offered. The fact
 
 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JAMES FERGUSSON. xxxv 
 
 Avas iiiiicli to be regretted, not for Fergusson's, but for the country's 
 sake, and a Memorandnm (11 March, 1869), on the subject of the 
 appointment is in the highest degree instructive. In it Sir A. H. 
 Layard wrote that the office held by Fergusson was one imperatively 
 required for the public service, and that " had such an officer been 
 connected with the Office of Works, many things which have broutrht 
 discredit on the Department might have been avoided." 
 
 Fergusson was often consulted on architectural questions by 
 authorities of various kinds, and buildings were erected from his designs, 
 notably the picture gallery containing Miss North's wonderful paintings 
 in Kew Gardens, in which he put into actual practice his life-long 
 theory of the mode of lighting Greek temples. He was also an active 
 member of the several committees engaged in the difficult task of 
 completing St. Paul's Cathedral. 
 
 Between his first and second contribution to the Journal of the 
 Royal Asiatic Society a gap of years intervenes. Tiiese contributions 
 are : — 
 
 Vol. VIII. (Original Series) Art. II.— On the Eock-cut Temples of 
 
 India, read oth December, 184:^), containing 10 plates. 
 Vol. III. (New Series) Art. V. — Description of the Amravati Tojx,' 
 
 in Gantur, read 18G8. 
 A^ol. IV. (New Series) Art. II. — On Indian Chronology, read lotli 
 
 February, 1809. 
 Vol. VI. (New Series) Art. IX. — On Hiouen-Thsang's Journey 
 
 from Patna to Ballabhi. 
 Vol. XL (New Series) Art. VIII. — On the identification of the 
 portrait of Chosroes II. among the paintings in the Caves of 
 Ajunta. 
 Vol. XII. (New Series) page 105.— Remarks on Mr. Robert 
 Sewell's 'Note on Hiouen-Thsang's Dhanakacheka.' 
 
 Art. IX. — On the Saka, Samvat, and Gupta Eras, being a 
 
 supplement to the author's paper on Indian Chronology. 
 
 page 139. — Notes on Babu R;ijendralala ]\Iitra's paper on 
 
 the age of the Caves at Ajunta. 
 Dr. Rajendralala Mitra, whose name is last mentioned, is the author 
 of many papers connected with Indian Archaeology, as well as of two 
 considerable works, one of which (on Buddha Gaya) was published 
 under the orders of the Government of Bengal, and the other (on the 
 Antiquities of Orissa) under those of the Government of India, he 
 having been attached to an archaeological mission which, in 1869, 
 visited the Katak Caves, examined hurriedly by Fergusson in 1887. 
 The result not being satisfactory to the latter, he urged the desirabiUty 
 of sending another expedition to these Caves, nnder European guidance, 
 and offered to pay the expenses of it should the Government decline 
 to bear them. This led to a contro\'ersv of somewhat acrimonious
 
 xxxvi SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JAMES FERGUSSON. 
 
 character, and the strength of Fergusson's convictions was often 
 expressed by him with an almost unnecessary strength of language, 
 which may, however, be largely excused on account of the personal 
 character of many of the attacks with which he was assailed. Irritated 
 and indignant, he published, perhaps unwisely, in 1884, a pamphlet 
 entitled ' Archeology in India,' in which, as he wrote in the preface, 
 he took an opportunity of saying a few last words on some points of 
 that subject which recent study had rendered clearer to him than they 
 were before, and Dr. Rajendralilla Mitra's works became a convenient 
 peg on which to hang his observations. But in such discussions, 
 especially upon Indian matters, even his opponents Avere his debtors. 
 Fergusson, by his individual efforts, without a jot of encouragement 
 from the Government, with no existing criteria which could enable him 
 to form a judgment of the age or style of the buildings he was studying, 
 classified them, and laid the solid foundations of an architectural 
 chronology for Hindustan. Undoubtedly some of the most remarkable 
 edifices of that country had been visited and partially described, both 
 by the illustrious Fran§ois Bernier and by other travellers, French and 
 English, of the seventeenth century, as well as by later Amtere, among 
 whom Heber may be prominently mentioned ; and these edifices had 
 been even drawn, though imperfectly, by Daniell and others. But until 
 Fergusson began to systematise the result of his laborious examinations, 
 and to publish his studies of the historical monuments in stone and 
 marble scattered over the face of India, the mass of these and their 
 mutual affinities were like a sealed book to the learning and intelligence 
 of the world. It is not too much to assert that the present votaries of 
 Indian research owe to him the means of checking historical tradition 
 by easy reference to the substantial records with wliich, principally 
 through his works, they are now familiar. 
 
 It would not be right to terminate a memoir written for the Royal 
 Asiatic Society without mentioning the Paper which Fergusson con- 
 tributed to the Quarterly Journal of the Geological Society, for August 
 1863, on " Recent Changes in the Delta of the Ganges." He had resided 
 as a planter for five years on the banks of one of the most active of the 
 Bengal rivers, and had been a witness of some of the changes he 
 described. When, as he states, he first became aware of the disturbance 
 that was taking place around him, he set himself to measure and obser\^e 
 what was passing, and in 1835 made a sketch survey of the Lower 
 Ganges and Brahmaputra from Jaffiergunge to the sea. This was 
 published soon afterwards, and his Paper read to the Geological Society 
 was illustrated with a map of the rivers of Bengal showing the changes 
 since Rennell's survey. Such wide versatility of genius was all the 
 more remarkable from the fact that his views on subjects of the most 
 varied nature requiring study and ability of the most distinct 
 character, and information from sources totally opposed to and distant
 
 SKETCH OP THE LIFE OF JAMES FERUUSSON. xxxvii 
 
 from each other, were neither superficial nor cursory, hut on tlie 
 contrary were carefully thought out and illustrated generally with direct 
 evidence of skill and leaTiiing. Besides those enumerated, he has 
 written articles for periodicals, and letters withont end which have l)een 
 published in the newspapers, and his last contribution of this kind 
 appeared in the Nineteenth Gentiiri/, for November IHcSo, on " The 
 llestoration of Westminster Hall." Seized the following month with a 
 second attack of paralysis, he died on the 9th of January, l.s.SG, in the 
 seventy-eighth year of his age. 
 
 " Those," says an old and intimate associate, " who only knew 
 Fergusson in a business or an ofiicial capacity, and thus came \nU) 
 contact with his rough exterior alone, can have little idea of what a 
 very atfectionate and e\'en tender side there was to his character. 
 To those whom he loved he was devoted, and the number was greatei- 
 than many would suspect. As a son and a brother few eijualled him 
 in unwearied care and thoughtful attention ; and besides relatives, there 
 are many friends of all classes who w'ould gladly testify — if such things 
 were not too sacred for open testimony — to the charm of his friendshi]), 
 the firm attachment with which he had inspired them during a long 
 intercourse of unvarying ])leas.intness, and their deep sorrow at his 
 
 death." 
 
 ******* 
 
 Since the foregoing notice was published, extracts from sonic of tla- 
 letters written by FergussoTi to his sister (the wife of the Rector of 
 Rugby), during his travels in India in the years 1H:^4-;^>;) have a])peared 
 ill the 'Journal of Proceedings' of the Royal Institute of Rritish 
 Architects ; and when it is remembered that his earliest studies, which 
 were to lead to the production of a History of Architecture, were made 
 in liengal and the North-West Provinces, the mental processes by which 
 he arrived at his conclusions — now' partially revealed — -become intensely 
 interesting. His first visit to lienares, made in 1.S84, aroused thc^ 
 enthusiasm with which in those days he was plentifully endowed. Arriv- 
 ing late at night on the l)ank of the Ganges opposite the Holy City, he 
 had his palanquin put down by the water's edge and slept there, so that 
 before daybreak he might, to use his words, " watch the city stealing out 
 of darkness into sunshine and l)eauty." The boat in which he crossed 
 the river was "a proper clumsy one," and the boatmen were an hour and 
 a half getting her over, though, wrote Fergusson, " I could have wished 
 the passage ten times as long, as it gave me an excellent op]iortunity of 
 seeing leisurely all the principal ghauts of the city, and of seeing the 
 whole under various points of view." Everything at this first visit 
 appears " much finer and more magnificent " than he had anticipated, 
 but he is " dazzled " with Agra later on, when " the enthusiasm of boy- 
 hood," he Avrites, is restored to him. In 18;-5<S, during the rains, he 
 devoted three weeks to a trip to Orissa, journeying seven hundred miles — 
 a holiday trip during which he slei)t twenty out of the twenty-one nights 
 in his pahuKjuin ; and the same year he made his tlurd visit to Penares, 
 returning with feelings of disajjpointment. It was only then, he adds, 
 "after having studied far more deeply than I had hitherto done the 
 VOL. I. <l
 
 xxxviii SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JAMES FERGUSt-^ON. 
 
 architectui-o of other nations, and above all seen the gigantic and beautiful 
 temples of Orissa, that I now feel what Benares wants." The same year 
 lie was at Lucknow for the second time, struck with " the liiagiiificence 
 of the moving mass, the numerous and splendid snicarri [the horsemen, 
 elephants, and followers ger.erally of a great man] that at all hours of 
 the day crowd its thoroughfares. In the Company's cities there is no 
 splendour of equipnge or dress, e\ery one goes on foot aiid in plain 
 nmslin. ... At Lucknow, no man with any pretensions to respecta- 
 bility goes out without half a dozen of footmen in gay liveries moving 
 alongside, and as many horsemen with spears and matchlocks prancing 
 before and behind his palanquin. . . . Then at niglit, when lit by the 
 Hare of a thousand torches — how beautiful ! All this may lie false glare, 
 and hide much misery and oppression beneath it, but who does not love 
 to read of the gay pageants of our forefathers when in the same state of 
 advancement as these people are ? or who does not love to gaze on the 
 ])oor imitations of them sometimes you get up at coronations or civic 
 feasts ? " After that he was at Futtehpoor Sikri, at Deeg, at (Joverdhun, 
 at lUndrabun, at Muttra, as his letters show ; and it is oidy in his last 
 ]iub!ished letter dated lOth March, isa9, that he tells of the kind of life 
 he often led in these journeys through India. " I wish you had seen the 
 great and wealthy Mr. Fergusson," he writes, " carefully untying some 
 bundles of hay and exercising his taste for luxury in the manner in which 
 he arranged his blanket over them in the corner of a nu'serable hovel 
 which was his abode. Everytiiing is done by himself, down to making 
 his own bed and cooking his own dinner — not that these are operations 
 of much difficulty or mystery, as the former consists merely of a frame 
 with a blanket over it, and a pillow with a sword under it ; and the 
 latter consists generally of scones, which being the food of all his 
 followers as well as of their lord, are always procured in abundance." A 
 perusal of these letters suffices to show that Fergusson, the student and 
 explorer, was a warmhearted, impressionable observer, not a mere 
 architectural statistician, as many of his critics would like to dub him, 
 but an ardent lover of the beautiful, whether of form or colour, and 
 capable of appreciating it from a high critical standpoint. That in his 
 ultimate judgment of architecture and its monuments he leaned rather 
 to the technic than the aesthetic side is only saying that in this he 
 followed the example of Viti'uvius, Palladio, and Perrault, and even of 
 the practitioner Wren ; but that the aesthetic sense in him was 
 originally deficient or undeveloped is disproved by his early writings. 
 He certainly regarded Design in Architecture as something higher than 
 a mere matter of picturesque grouping or scenic effect ; and a short time 
 before his death he expressed to me the satisfaction he felt at having lived 
 long enough to witness the begiiming of the end of that period of artistic 
 um-eality which had endured durinu" the greater part of his life. 
 
 W. H. W. 
 
 London, Junnnry 1891.
 
 HISTORY OF THE MODEEN STYLES 
 
 OF 
 
 AECHITECTURE. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 [The Scheme of the Author. — To the student of Architectural Art 
 this prefatory Essay may be specially recommended for careful reading. 
 It is the author's preliminary statement of the doctrinal essence of his 
 treatise, and is intended to estal)lisli at the outset an understanding with 
 the reader, which he intends to be never lost sight of — a critical bargain 
 between the two in which the reader has to do his part if their connection 
 is to prove satisfactory. " In this History of the Modern Styles of Archi- 
 tecture,'''' we can fancy the author to be saying, " I am presenting to you, 
 not a mere book of reference in which you are to discover the date, 
 description, and authorship of one edifice and another, as occasion may 
 require or curiosity dictate ; not a mere chronological record of events 
 in connection with building, which you are to esteem only according to 
 its accuracy and completeness ; not a cautious and colourless statement 
 of selected facts, avoiding the controversial ground of opinion lest you 
 and I should fall out by the way ; but a certain philosophical view of 
 the subject which is my own, a doctrinal theory of progression — or 
 perhaps non-progression — development or non-development— which it is 
 my object to work out by illustration in my own way, and which in this 
 Introduction, I will now proceed to explain." Accordingly, in another 
 work (see preface to the First Edition of the History of Architecture), the 
 author expresses his motive in the following significaut apologia : — 
 
 " It was my good fortune to be able to devote many years of my life 
 to the study of Architecture — as a fine art — under singularly favourable 
 circumstances : not only was I able to extend my personal observations 
 to the examples found in almost all the countries between China and 
 the Atlantic shore, but I hved familiarly among a people who were still 
 practising their traditional art on the same principles as those which 
 guided the architects of the Middle Ages in the production of similar 
 but scarcely more beautiful or more original works. With these 
 antecedents, I found myself in possession of a considerable amount of 
 information regarding buildings which liad not previously been 
 VOL. I. '*
 
 2 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 described, and — what I considered of more value — of an insight into 
 the theory of the art, which certainly was even more novel." 
 
 It was therefore, he goes on to say, that he wrote his essay on Trup 
 Princi])les of Beauty in Art. The book, he admits, was a faihu'e ; but 
 his subsequent series of liistorical treatises, of which the present one is 
 the last in order, must be taken as a substitute for it, another version 
 of that very work in expanded form. It would take " fifty volumes and 
 twenty thousand woodcuts " at the least, he adds, to accomplish what 
 he had in his mind — for he was a man of large ideas — but he would 
 content himself with these four volumes ; and not only so, but he would 
 have preferred at one time to designate the whole series as only An 
 Historical Introduction to the Study of Architecture, considered as a Fine 
 Art : and so we have volumes the first and second as a history of 
 Ancient Architecture, volume the third as a history of Indian Archi- 
 tecture, and this volume, the fourth, as a history of Modern Architecture. 
 In a lengthy introduction to the first of these volumes, he reproduces 
 the argument Avhich had constituted his " True Principles,'''' systematically 
 sjt out ; in like manner, as an introduction to this fourth volume, lie 
 now clenches tlie old argument by exposing the particular form in 
 wliich Fcdse Principles, as he thinks, have always dominated, and still 
 dominate, the designing of modern architects. Thus it is that the very 
 opening words of the present " Introduction " are these : — " The styles 
 of Architecture wlii(;h have been described in the previous parts of this 
 Avork " (meaning the three volumes of history applying to the Ancient 
 AVorld and India) " are those which may be called the True Styles. 
 Those that remain to l)e examined " (meaning everything that has been 
 done since the establishment in one country after another of " the 
 Renaissance " or the revival of the Antique) " may in like manner be 
 designated the Copying or Imitative Styles." This is the text of his 
 sermon tlie enunciation of his leading proposition, the thesis of his 
 discourse, the essential point of his historical argument, and the purpose 
 of its illustration. 
 
 In plainer words, all Modern Architecture, he seems to say, is only 
 Sham Art. But of course the reader may form his own judgment of 
 an allegation so remarkable. — Ed.] 
 
 I. — True Styles. 
 
 The Styles of Architecture which have been described in the previous 
 parts of this work,^ are those which may be called the True Styles. 
 Those that remain to be examined may in like manner be designated 
 the Copying or Imitative Styles of Architectural Art, and differ 
 from the preceding so essentially, that it is indispensable the distinc- 
 tion sh«:»uld l)e clearly appreciated aiid always borne in mind, in 
 
 ' Tlic voluiues on "Ancient Architecture" and the "Architecture of India.'
 
 INTRODUCTION : TRUE STYLES. 3 
 
 order that any just or reasonable judgment may be formed as to their 
 relative merits. 
 
 All the buildings belonging to the first class were — without one 
 single exception — arranged solely for the purpose of meeting, in the 
 most direct manner, the wants of those for whom they were designed ; 
 and the ornamentation that was applied to them either grew naturally 
 out of the construction, or was such as was best suited to express the 
 uses QT^jects to which the building was to be applied. 
 
 The immediate consequence of this is that, whether the construc- 
 tion of a building of this class is mechanically correct or not, or 
 whether the ornaments are either elegant or well designed, there 
 is always a purpose-hke truthfulness about it which can never fail to 
 be pleasing ; and thus, whatever its other defects may be, it must of 
 necessity possess some of the most important elements of architectural 
 excellence. 
 
 A further consequence of this truthfulness is, that we can reason 
 with regard to buildings of the True Styles with the same certainty, 
 and according to the same rules, which we apply when speaking 
 of the works of Nature. Man's works, though immeasurably inferior 
 in degree, are parts of the same great scheme ; and when they arc 
 produced by the simple exercise of man's reason, they are as distinctly 
 natural as any of the instinctive functions which can be performed 
 either by man or by any of the lower animals. 
 
 It follows from this that we contemplate the truthful products of 
 man's action with the same pleasure which we experience in studyiug 
 the works of natiu-e, and derive from their contemplation the same class 
 of gratification ; for, though they do not emanate from the same high 
 intelligence, they are the results of the same process in so far as it 
 is given to us to understand it : their form is the same, while they 
 appeal more familiarly to our own feelings, and gratify even more 
 directly our own desires. 
 
 The buildings in the Imitative Styles, being designed on a totally 
 different principle, produce, as might be expected, a totally different 
 class of results. It is, perhaps, not too much to say that no perfectly 
 truthful architectural building has been erected in Europe since the 
 Reformation. Mere utilitarian buildings are truthful of course, but 
 the moment ornament comes to be applied, or an attempt is made, by 
 any arrangement of the parts of a building, to obtain an architectural 
 effect, the new element is inevitably introduced. In modern designs 
 there is always an effort either to reproduce the style of some foreign 
 country or that of some by-gone age ; frequently l)ot]i. The form of 
 the buildings is more or less moulded according to these foreign 
 elements, while the ornamentation, being always borrowed, seldom 
 expresses the construction, and scarcely ever the real truthful ol»jects, 
 to which the building is applied. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 HISTOEY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 The first consequence of this is, that, unless we know the history 
 of a huildiug from some extraneous sources, we can never be sure, 
 either from its form or from the style of its ornamentation, by whom 
 it was erected. It may have belonged to the Greeks or to the 
 Eomans, or been erected by the Medieval architects. The highest 
 praise that can be bestowed on a modern building is, that its details 
 are so perfectly copied from some other style as to produce a perfect 
 counterfeit, such as would deceive any one, if its parts were considered 
 separately from the locality or their position in the building. The plans 
 and arrangements beiug also generally designed on the same system, 
 we can ' rarely guess from its external appearance to what use it was 
 intended any given building should be applied. It may be a church, 
 a hall, a dwelling— anything, in short. Till within the last few 
 years the object of a design was not that it should look like any of 
 those things, but that it should resemble some building of some long 
 anterior age, with which it may have no conceivable connexion, 
 beyond the idea that the old • building was beautiful, and that conse- 
 quently it was desirable that it should be reproduced. 
 
 From this it is evident that, Avhatever the other merits of modem 
 buildings may be, the element of truthfulness is altogether wanting. 
 St. Peter's or St. Paul's are not Roman buildings, though affecting 
 a classical style of ornamentation ; and even the Walhalla or the 
 Madeleine are only more servile copies, without attaining the impos- 
 sible merit of being Greek or Roman temples. So, too, with our 
 Gothic fashions. Our Parhament Houses are not mediteval, notwith- 
 standing the beauty or correctness of their details ; nor do any of our 
 best modern churches attain to greater truthfulness or originality of 
 design than exists in the Walhalla or buildings of that class. The 
 consequence is, we can never look upon them with the same satis- 
 faction as we do on buildings of the True Styles ; and we never dare 
 to draw conclusions from either their style or their forms as to the 
 age in which they were built, or the purposes to which they may 
 have been dedicated, nor can we ever feel sure that the construction 
 we see is a necessary part of the design, and not put there because 
 something like it was placed in a similar situation for some other 
 purpose in some other age. 
 
 All this not only destroys one half the pleasure we experience in 
 contemplating the buildings of a more truthful style, but it degrades 
 architecture from its high position of a quasi-natural production to 
 that of a mere imitative art. In this form it may be quite competent 
 to gratify our tastes and feelings, but can never appeal to our higher 
 intellectual faculties ; and what ought to be the noblest and the 
 grandest of the Fine Arts, sinks below the level of Painting and of 
 Sculpture : for, though these last are naturally inferior, they retain 
 at tlie present day nuich of that truthfulness which the other has lost, 
 
 I
 
 INTRODUCTION : TRUE STYLES. 5 
 
 and, though now generally ranked with them, in reality Architecture 
 excites less interest than they do. 
 
 Besides this loss of intellectual value, the art has also, in modern 
 times, lost all ethnographic signification. It may be asserted with 
 confidence that, during the existence of the True Styles, there was 
 not a single edifice erected in any country that pretended to be a 
 reproduction of any building of a preceding age, nor one that was 
 borrowed or adopted from any foreign country or people, or resembled 
 their productions, except in so far as its builders were allied by blood, 
 or possessed a community of feelings or interest with the people from 
 whom they were borrowing. On the other hand, there is not perhaps 
 a single building of any architectural pretension erected in Europe 
 since the Reformation, in the beginning of the sixteenth century, 
 which is not more or less a copy, either in form or detail, from some 
 building either of a different clime or diiferent age from those in 
 which it was erected. There is no building, in fact, the design of 
 which is not borrowed from some country or people with whom our 
 only associations are those derived from education alone, wholly 
 irrespective of either blood or feeling. 
 
 So completely is this the case, that few are aware that such a 
 science exists as the Ethnography of Art, and that the same ever- 
 shifting fashions have not always prevailed as those that now be- 
 wilder the architectural student in modern Europe. 
 
 It is evident that two forms of Art based on such diametrically 
 opposite principles, and aiming at such different objects, must require 
 a very different mode of criticism, and be judged of according to 
 very different codes of aesthetic laws ; but it does not follow that 
 either is worthless, or that, because the one is certainly good, the 
 other must be necessarily bad. It is true we can no longer from a 
 few details of an " Order " restore the whole with the same certainty 
 and by the same process which enal)les a naturaUst from a few frag- 
 ments of bone to rehabilitate the animal to which they once belonged. 
 We can no longer, from the position of two or three bases, predict 
 with certainty the form of a large edifice, and tell the purposes to 
 which it was originally applied. We cannot, from the frustrum of a 
 Gothic pier, tell the age when the building was erected, nor wliether 
 it bore a vaulted or a wooden roof, nor whether it was a part of a 
 church or a hall, a palace or a castle. 
 
 All this is so strongly felt that, though numl)erless books have 
 been written during the last fifty years^ to illustrate the Classical 
 and Medieval styles, and most histories include, besides these, the 
 
 * In the last century the contrary waa 
 thecase. Agiucourt, Durand,De Quiiicey, 
 and others pass over the Gothic styles as 
 
 barbarousand unworthy of any notice,and 
 begin the history of Modern Art with 
 Alberti, Brimelledchi, &c.
 
 6 HISTORY OP MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Egyptian, the Indiau, the Chinese, and every True Style known, they 
 all stop short about the year 1500, in so far at least as Europe is 
 concerned. None venture across the forlidden boundary of the 
 Reformation ; so that both the Renaissance and the Revival want a 
 historian in recent times. No one who is imbued mth the spirit of 
 the True Styles can be at a loss to understand why this should be so ; 
 though it is strange that those who enforce the practice, as is done 
 in every country of Europe in modern times, should condemn the 
 theory on which that method is based. Either it is wrong in us to per- 
 severe in copying, or, if we are justified in our present practice, we 
 cannot be mistaken regarding the importance of a careful study of 
 the steps by which we have arrived at its principles, and, by an 
 impartial criticism, attempting to estimate their value. Even if it 
 should be found difficult to do this with perfect fairness, it must 
 always be interesting to the philosophical student to investigate the 
 steps by which Art in Europe has reached its present position. 
 More than this, it cannot possibly be uninteresting to study any 
 important form of Art, as it has been practised during three centuries 
 by the most powerful, the best educated, and — barring the little 
 group of Grecian States — the most intellectual association of nations 
 that the world has ever known. If the European nations have 
 deliberately adopted any form of Art, it is fair to assume that there 
 must be some reason for it ; or if they have fallen into it from mere 
 careless thoughtlessness, it must still be curious to know how this 
 came about ; and, if wrong, it is only by thoroughly knowing the 
 form of disease that a remedy can be prescril)ed. The one point, 
 however, that especially requires attention at this stage of the iuquir}- 
 is to know that there are in reality two styles of Architectural Art — 
 one practised universally before the sixteenth century, and another 
 invented since then — and that the one must be judged of by a totally 
 different canon of criticism from that appHcable to the style which 
 preceded it. 
 
 In order to understand what follows, it is so essential that this 
 diifereuce should be thoroughly appreciated, that it will be necessary, 
 before going further, to point out, as distinctly as possible, liow these 
 differences arose — in what they reaUy consist — and by what new 
 rules or standards they must be measured. 
 
 II. — Revival of Classical Literature. 
 
 The most remarkable proximate cause of the change that took 
 place in Architectural Art is ouc that has long been obvious to every 
 inquirer. It arose from the revival of classical literatm-e in AVestern 
 Europe about the middle of the fifteenth century. Throughout the 
 whole of the Middle Ages the great bulk of the clergy could read
 
 INTRODUCTION : THE REVIVAL. 7 
 
 Latin with facility, and so could many of the laity ; but so complete 
 had been the night of the Dark Ages, that, though they understood 
 the words, the sentiments of the classical authors found as little 
 sympathy in the hearts of their readers as an episode of the Ramayana 
 or Maliabharata does in that of a modern novel-reader. Even Dante 
 reads Virgil through a Christian gloss, and, though familiar with his 
 works in the original, he does not see the poetic Roman, so much as 
 the metaphysical schoolman, in his glowing pages. It was not till 
 the age immediately preceding the fall of Constantinople that the 
 existence of the great literature of Greece became known in "Western 
 Europe ; but when Petrarch and Boccaccio first became acquainted 
 with its beauties, they naturally lauded their discovery to the skies, 
 and incited those who could not read Homer and Demosthenes in 
 the original Greek to study their echoes in Virgil and Cicero. Once 
 it became the fashion, and men had got over the unfamiliar names 
 and allusions, it was hailed with all the enthusiasm of a new dis- 
 covery, and became the literature of the day. Had the Middle Ages 
 possessed any literature of their own, this would not have l)een the 
 case, to the same extent at least. But neither in poetry nor in prose — 
 in science nor in literature — had the Dark Ages produced anything that 
 could for one moment stand a comparison with the glorious literary 
 productions of Greek and Roman civilisation. We cannot, conse- 
 (|uently, wonder at the enthusiasm which the discovery of these 
 long-hidden treasures excited, though we may regret the too hasty 
 geuerahsation that apphed to every class of Art the induction which 
 was only strictly applicable to one. 
 
 It must also Ijc Ijorne in mind that the revolution in Architectural 
 Art took its rise first in Italy, and especially at Rome ; which was then 
 the spiritual, as it had once been the imperial, capital of Europe. To 
 the Italians it was not the discovery of a strange or foreign art ; their 
 language was almost that of the ancient conquerors of the world ; 
 their country was the same ; the revival was hailed as a burst of 
 patriotism, claiming for their ancestors the glory of having enlight- 
 ened, as it was admitted they had ruled, the world, and priest and 
 layman joined heart and hand in asserting the indefeasible right of 
 Rome to be considered as the mistress of the world in all ages. Deeply 
 as we are imbued by education with admiration for classical literature, 
 we can hardly appreciate the enthusiasm which swelled the breast of 
 the modern Roman on discovering in the pages of Livy the great and 
 glorious events which had been enacted within the walls of his own 
 native city, or the feelings with which he read, in the Books of Tacitus, 
 the gorgeous but gloomy pictures of imperial greatness which have ira- 
 mortahsed the Palace of the Cffisars, whose remains still stood l)efore his 
 eyes. He could read Cicero on the very spot where his Orations wei-e 
 delivered, and look down from the Capitol on that Forum which had
 
 8 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 given laws to the world, and over that city which had been before, 
 and was then, the greatest and most illustrious of the universe. In so 
 far as architecture was concerned, the Roman liad daily before his 
 eyes the Pantheon and the Temple of Peace, the gorgeous remains of 
 the imperial Thermte and of the Palace of the Caesars ; the porticoes of 
 inimmerable Temples were then standing, and the Flavian Amphi- 
 theatre, more perfect then than now, was known as the greatest 
 architectural wonder of the world. 
 
 Compared with these, the great Basilicas of St. Peter and St. Paul 
 were externally rude and mean in the last degree, and internally 
 almost all the beauty they possessed was derived from the ranges of 
 columns sei)arating the aisles, which were borrowed from the build- 
 ings of their ancestors. The wonder is, not that the Romans dis- 
 carded at once what little of Medievalism they e\er had adopted, but 
 that they had ever neglected or had fallen away from the great 
 classical models which met their eyes at every turn. 
 
 From Rome the contagion spread rapidly to the rest of Italy. There 
 was not a city in the peninsula which was not hallowed by some 
 memory of Roman greatness, not one that was not even then adorned 
 by some monument that called back the memories of the past, and 
 reminded the citizens how beautiful the arts of the classical age luul 
 been. The patriotism which is now stirring the dejiths of the Itahan 
 nn'nd is but a faint reflex of that enthusiasm with which Italy in the 
 fifteenth century reclaimed the inheritance of the Caesars ; and, in 
 addition to the ecclesiastical supremacy of the world, which was then 
 the undisputed prerogative of her great capital, she claimed for her 
 language and her arts their pre-eminence over those of all other 
 nations. Then, as of late, she strove to drive back the barbarous 
 Tedesci, who had meddled so fatally in her affairs ; and, if she could, 
 she would have obhterated every trace of their hated influence. If 
 the past could not be washed out, the future at least was her own ; 
 and Roman literature, Roman art, and Roman memories were thence- 
 forward the watchwords of the Italians. 
 
 From Italy the revival soon spread to France ; partly in conse- 
 (pience of the direct interference of Francis I. with Italian affairs, but 
 more certainly from the influence of the clergy, who all emanated 
 more or less directly from Rome, or either visited it or looked to it as 
 their leader and model in all things. Spain too was ripe for a change. 
 'J'he ex})ulsion of the hated Moors from Granada, the discovery of the 
 New World, and the enormous accession of wealth and influence which 
 resulted from these causes, led the Spaniards to contemn the arts 
 and literature of a divided and struggling people ; their religious 
 feelings threw them blindly into tlie arms of Rome, and they adopted 
 her arts with the same enthusiasm with which they venerated her 
 reliiiion.
 
 INTKODUCTION : THE REVIVAL. 9 
 
 111 England the progress of tlie revolution was far slower. A 
 change took place in the age of Elizabeth, but scarcely in the direction 
 of Roman art. Even the pedant James could hardly obtain a classical 
 design, and it remained for the foreign feehngs and refined tastes of 
 Charles I. to fix fairly upon us the copying principles wliich had long 
 before that time taken root on the Continent. 
 
 The Germans early abandoned an art they had never really appre- 
 ciated, and, with pedantic ajffectation, set about the study of the classic. 
 Their industry took, however, a literary more than an artistic form, and 
 thus their architectural efforts during the sixteenth and seventeenth 
 centuries are poor and contemptible in the extreme. The revolution 
 had, however, fairly taken root in Europe ; by degrees it spread to 
 Scandinavia, and even into Russia, and now has occupied the New 
 World with strange deformities, and is spreading into India and every 
 country of the world. China and some of the less civihsed Trans- 
 Gangetic countries are still free from the contagion, but it is by no 
 means clear how long they are to retain their immunity. 
 
 [The Modern European Style : — How is it possible, in the eyes of 
 men of scientific culture, that such a revolution in European intellect as 
 that which took place in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, should 
 fail to develop a corresponding revolution in art ? And how is it 
 possible that this should be developed otherwise than " naturally " by 
 the inevitable operation of natural law ? How can the miracle of 
 artificiality be even for once achievable in so vast a movement ? And 
 how is it possible that in our own subject of Architecture — very aptly 
 designated History in Stone — the new development should be in any 
 way otherwise than the direct and coincident consequence of the 
 conditions of the renovated world, the absolutely equivalent effect of 
 that definite or indefinite cause ? To say that such a new period of 
 History should not produce its own new style of Architecture, is to 
 suggest a scientific absurdity ; and even to say that this could be 
 unworthy of the name of a style, is only a play upon words. 
 
 The style of design, therefore, which arose in Italy in the fifteenth and 
 sixteenth centuries, whatever may be its demerits, was the natural style 
 of the New Europe, of which the Italy of that period was the exultant 
 mother. If it was an Italian style, it was not for Italy alone, but for 
 all the modern (or ItaHan) world — for all westward lands, in tm-n, as the 
 empire of Italian culture should hold its westward way. As for 
 demerits, these, alike with its merits, could not possibly be other than 
 characteristic effects of the causes in operation. If architects were 
 reverting to old Rome, Avas it not because all artists, and all men of 
 learning, were reverting to old Rome ? Modern Europe could not in 
 the circumstances avoid taking up the clue of civihsation where Ancient 
 Europe had dropped it— at Rome. Centuries a good many had 
 intervened ; vicissitudes a good many had trampled upon it ; but there
 
 10 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 it was for the taking up again ; and it was taken up again. AYhat 
 better could have been done ? What else could have been done ? 
 
 But what of the " sham ? " The answer is that there was no sham 
 in the initial principle. The execrable shams of Modern Architecture 
 came out of that principle, we may admit ; but it was in their own way. 
 And what of the " copyism ? " It is quite a mistake to say that the 
 Italian Revivalists merely proceeded to copy the Roman temples. The 
 temples were not at aU the point at which the ancients relinquished their 
 process of development ; nor were they the point at which the moderns 
 took up theirs. It was in such examples as the Flavian Amphitheatre 
 that the Antique terminated ; and it was with precisely similar designs 
 that the Revival resumed. Granted the aesthetic short-comings of those 
 old examples — the confusion, for instance, of large-stone forms with 
 small-stone construction ; is it not all the more significant when the 
 student of development finds that the new examples at once accepted 
 that very practice as it stood .' They proved themselves to be in a 
 natural position by their very error. But why did they accept, for 
 instance, this particular idea ? The rejoinder is : "Why had the ancients 
 accepted it ? There can be only one answer. The conditions of the ancients 
 in Italy, and the conditions of the moderns in Italy, were so far ahke, 
 that what was done by the one was done for the other ; and how far it 
 was in merit or in demerit does not matter. 
 
 The actual Roman manner which was thus revived was the applica- 
 tion of the colonnade and the arcade, in superimposed ranges where 
 necessary, and chiefly in the way of superficiation or surface-art on a 
 wall. The " copying " was the acceptance of the best antique details, 
 because they certainly Avere, as they still are, not to be easily improved 
 upon. The "authority of antiquity," as an academical formula, 
 naturally followed. But the whole of this scheme of " imitation," so far 
 as it was a counterfeit — or a " sham," if the phrase must nowadays be 
 accepted— could only be so called on much more philosophical grounds 
 than have ever been the rule in practical esthetics. Superficiation on the 
 same principle, and even less intelligently handled, Avas common every- 
 where in Europe during the entire era of the Middle Ages ; it is to l)e 
 found also in all earlier work throughout the world ; the higher 
 criticism must admit that even the entablature of the most severe 
 form of the Greek temple is a case in point. 
 
 The radical elements, then, of the Neo-Classic, Itahan, or Modern 
 European style of architecture are these : — first, the w^all-colonuade, or 
 " attached order," as distinguished from the open colonnade or portico, 
 which was the l)asis of the Greek ; and secondly, the arcade, which was the 
 basis of the later Roman and of all the mediaeval modes. Observe, for ex- 
 ample, the generahty of the illustrations throughout Book I., referring to 
 the actual Avorks of the Renaissance on Italian soil. How, then, were the 
 cinquecentists to superfieiate these features "i Of course, it is easy for
 
 INTRODUCTION : THE REVIVAL. 11 
 
 us to say, offhand nowadays, that the attached colonnades and arcades of 
 the Fla\'ian Amphitheatre and other contemporaneous examples were 
 false art ; but more scientific criticism is not so hasty in its conclusions, 
 and there are two considerations which it will not overlook. If, in the 
 first place, this ambitious treatment of a wall surface can be kept within 
 the limits of actual acceptable construction, and if, secondly, that actual 
 construction can be achieved without doing violence to its own principles, 
 what becomes of the false art then ? Surely it is idle to demand in 
 wall-work a theoretical perfection of absolutely uncompromised 
 structural design ; for this woidd compel us to be satisfied with mere 
 fenestration so meagre and archaic, and confined within such a very 
 narrow range of variety, that architecture as a fine-art would cease to 
 exist. It has been discovered long ago in all things human, that advantage 
 must be paid for ; and it is a mere mathematical truism, therefore, that 
 building-work, having 7;^/- se no essential grace, must be permitted to be 
 endowed with grace at the price of a compromise. All that can be 
 reasonably contended for is that this price shall be the smallest, and 
 payable in the most convenient coin. — Ed.] 
 
 III. — Reformation ix Religion. 
 
 The great change just alluded to was Avi-ought in Europe simul- 
 taneously with the Reformation in religious matters, not as a separate 
 thing, but, in fact, as a part of the same great awakening of the human 
 intellect. The invention of gunpowder, and the consohdation of the 
 larger empires, had necessitated wars beiug carried on on a greater 
 scale than heretofore, and so mixed the nations more together, and 
 gave them larger and more correct ideas of the relative positions and 
 power of each ; while the invention of printing had aided in the dif- 
 fusion of knowledge to an extent previously unknown in tlie history 
 of the world. These, and other causes which it is not necessary to 
 enumerate here, led to the secession of all the Teutonic races of Europe 
 from the Church of Rome, and to that consequent excitement and 
 spirit of inquiry which characterised the great Reformation in spiritual 
 matters. With us it gave rise to that freedom of thought and action 
 to which we owe so much, but accompanied by a contempt for all 
 things Medieval and a hatred of everything that savoured of Romish 
 feehng or domination. From all these causes the Reformed nations 
 were led to repudiate whatever belonged to Christian Rome, while they 
 bhndly adopted whatever had belonged to its Pagan predecessor. 
 
 Even in those countries to which the Reformation did not extend, 
 a revolution took place scarcely less extensive or important. Though 
 acknowledging the supremacy of tlie Pope, and adhering nominally 
 to the same forms, the essence of tlie Roman Catholic religion was no 
 longer in the sixteenth what it had been in the thirteenth century.
 
 12 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 The enlarged views which the revival of classical literature and art 
 had introduced, the progress of science, and the general enlightenment 
 of mankind, worked a silent reformation, almost as extensive as that 
 violent one to which alone the name is usually apphed ; and if the 
 countries which remained Papal did not learn to hate, they at least 
 learned to despise the works of their forefathers. They saw the most 
 beautiful Gothic churches fall to decay with as little regret as if they 
 had been followers of Knox or Calvin, or they beautified them with 
 classical details with as much self-satisfaction as could have been felt 
 by the most orthodox chm-chwardens of the Georgian era. 
 
 One of the first consequences of this revolution in ecclesiastical 
 affairs was the almost total cessation of church-building throughout 
 Europe. Those countries especially which had thrown off the Papal 
 yoke and dissolved their monasteries, found themselves overstocked 
 with ecclesiastical edifices, and even France had so far changed in 
 feeling that the buildings she already possessed more than sufficed for 
 her wants ; and, except from the increasing magnitude and influence 
 of the capital, she probably would hardly have erected a single im- 
 portant church during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. 
 
 In Spain the case was slightly different. The euormoiLS influx of 
 wealth in the sixteenth century, consequent on her connexion with 
 the Indies, led her to spend a large proportion of it in a manner so 
 congenial to the strong rehgious feelings of the country ; and we find, 
 in consequence, in Spain, a considerable number of churches in the 
 Revived Classical style which are deserving of attention from their 
 size and richness, if not for their Art. 
 
 In Italy, however, church-building retained its previous pre- 
 eminence. The end of the fifteenth and beginning of the sixteenth 
 centuries were the culminating epoch of the Papal power and wealth, 
 and saw in consequence in the commencement of St. Peter's the most 
 daring and the most magnificent undertaking of its class in Europe, 
 or perhaps it may be said in the world. St. Peter's was far from 
 being a soUtary example, for throughout all Italy numberless new 
 churches were commenced and old ones altered and restored ; Rome 
 itself, as well as Venice, Genoa, Florence, and Milan, are enriched with 
 churches of the sixteenth century which vie in splendour with the 
 works of the Middle Ages, whatever may be said of their taste ; and 
 the Jesuits carried their pecuhar style into every country to which 
 they had access, and practised it with that exuberance of richness in 
 ornamentation which characterises their churches everywhere. 
 
 From these causes it will be easy to understand that Italy became 
 the leader in the revolution, and not only set the example to other 
 nations, but actually forced on the world the adoption of the Classical 
 style of Church Architecture which had sprung up among the classical 
 remains of ancient Rome. This new style was moulded by the genius
 
 INTRODUCTION : THE REFORMATION. 13 
 
 of those great artists who attached themselves to the Papal Court at 
 that period into a new shape, and was by their influence fixed, for a 
 time at least, on the attention of Europe. 
 
 Although the countries on this side the Alps abandoned almost 
 entirely the practice of Ecclesiastical Architecture, they made up for 
 it, in extent at least, by the erection of ciWl and domestic buildings, 
 on a scale hitherto unknown. It is quite curious to observe in the 
 works of the period how completely the change had taken place in 
 men's minds. The great work of Du Cerceau, for instance, pubhshed 
 in 1576, contains illustrations of thirty of " les plus excellens basti- 
 mens de la France," but he does not include one single church in his 
 collection. In Mariette's famous folio work there are plans and 
 details of one hundred palaces and civil buildings, but only very 
 imperfect notices of eight Parisian churches ; and the six folio 
 volumes of our own ' Vitruvius Britannicus ' contain short notices 
 of only three churches, but have full and complete details of one 
 hundred and seventy-five civil edifices. It may also be added that 
 but for the accident of the Fire of London in 166G, which necessitated 
 the rebuilding of the City churches, we should hardly possess any ex- 
 amples from which we could learn what the Ecclesiastical Architecture 
 of this country really pretended to be during the last two centuries. 
 
 This supremacy of Domestic over Ecclesiastical Architecture was 
 nearly fatal for the latter. However grand or magnificent a palace 
 may be, it must possess domestic offices and apartments for servants, 
 which no art can hide and no taste can dignify. The architects of the 
 Renaissance tried to divert attention from these by placarding their 
 buildings with the porticoes and details of the Templar Architecture of 
 the Romans, but they merely succeeded in adding incongruity to the 
 inherent defects of the subject, and degraded the borrowed features, 
 which were beautiful in themselves, without elevating the building 
 whose deficiencies they thouglit they might thus be able to conceal. 
 
 It was by no means necessary that this should be done. The temple 
 and the palace are in themselves so essentially different, that, by 
 treating each according to its kind, all interference is easily avoided. 
 Nevertheless, during the last two centuries, when civil buildings 
 occupied almost exclusively the attention of every architect and 
 absorbed nine-tenths of the funds allotted to building purposes, it was 
 almost impossible that the church should escape the influence of tlie 
 Domestic style. In fact. Ecclesiastical Architecture became Domestic 
 without having the power or influence to react on the palatial style, 
 and neither was in consequence able to elevate itself, or to sliake off 
 the trammels of the imitative system into which they both had sunk. 
 
 Another circumstance very detrimental to real architectural pro- 
 gress arose from the fact that the Christian ritual is essentially an 
 internal form of worsliip, and makes no use whatever of the exterior
 
 14 HISTORY OF MODEEN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 of its churches in the performance of its services ; a circumstance not in 
 itself involving any difficulty, as an interior may be made as fine as 
 an exterior, when honestly treated ; but it became a source of numerous 
 incongruities when the details of an external style came to be applied 
 to internal purposes. It is well known how cleverly and how well the 
 Gothic architects got over this difficulty, but at Constantinople, and 
 more especially at Rome and Ravenna, the exteriors of the early 
 churches were entirely devoid of ornament, apparently on purpose to 
 distinguish them from Pagan temples. The consequence was, that, 
 when the Italian Architects were called upon to make the exterior of 
 their churches as ornamental as the Gothic architects had done, they, 
 having no style of their own, could think of nothing better than to 
 suggest a Pagan peristyle. From its uselessness they dared not go 
 further than a portico, and that generally of semi-detached columns, 
 l)ut for the flanks they were content with the employment of pilasters, 
 which, it must be confessed, is one of the most useless as well as least 
 constructive modes of ornamentation that could be adopted. This, 
 added to the other difficulties enumerated above, gave a character 
 of unreality to the style, and betrayed that continual striving after 
 imitative forms which is its bane and fatal to anything like truthful- 
 ness of effect. 
 
 It is not necessary at the present stage of this inquiry to attempt to 
 assign its relative importance to each of these separate elements of 
 design. All that is here required is to point out the difference between 
 an imitative and a true style. In the latter the architect had only to 
 consider, first, how he could contrive the most con^•enient and appro- 
 priate building ; secondly, how he could arrange this so as to be most 
 ornamental with the least possible sacrifice of convenience ; and, 
 thirdly, how he could accentuate and ornament his construction so as 
 to make it most obvious and most elegant. These three propositions 
 contain in themselves all the elements of design, and ought never for 
 one moment to be absent from the mind of the architect. 
 
 In modern times he has, in addition, and too generally in substitu- 
 tion for these, to try and make the building look like something it is 
 not and cannot be, and has to apply a system of ornamentation which 
 is generally inappropriate and almost always useless. This practice 
 arose out of the enthusiasm created by the rediscovery of an earlier 
 Art, and has been continued because the true Art of architecture 
 perished under the influence of the false system then introduced, and, 
 in this art at least, no living forms being available to 'which we can 
 resort, we are still compelled to cling for models to the past. 
 
 [Imitation and Counterfeit in Modern Architecture : — Is it 
 really the fact that modern architect m'e, as the author seems to suggest, 
 is all a sham ? If it was so, or desirable to be called so, wlien seen in 
 the light in which he formed his opinions at the period at which lie
 
 INTRODUCTION : THE REFORMATION. 15 
 
 was writing, is it still so, or still so desirable, in the light in whidi 
 we must now .make his doctrines useful, whether to the earnest 
 professional student or to the interested general reader — -both of whom 
 ought to be encouraged to take a hberal, not an illiberal, view of a 
 recondite art, if they are to find intelligent pleasure in its coiitemplation, 
 and not needless dissatisfaction ? Do we not still hear too much of tlie 
 " utter debasement," and what not, of all modern art, and especially of 
 all art in England ? Is it not mere common sense to suggest that, if 
 this he only an impulsive generalisation, an affectation of self-denial, or 
 a dogma pardonably exaggerated to make it piquant (true philosophy — 
 science — is never piquant), then such a doctrine, however impressive it 
 may be, or however salutary in some circumstances, is but a fallacy, and 
 almost a vulgar fallacy. If even there should be only a reservation to 
 make, is it not on the face of the matter a hazardous thing to ignore it, 
 to disguise it, to compromise it ? When we have strong doctrine, 
 therefore, we must not forget the reservations. 
 
 At the time of " the Revival of Arts and Leti,ers " — so it has been 
 argued amongst us a thousand times — ^a movement having in it 
 something of the nature of an arbitrary act of academical choice was 
 originated in Italy, and eventually carried over Europe at large, wherel)y 
 architecture, instead of being allowed to take a course of its own, was 
 forced into a style founded upon the acceptance of antique models for 
 direct imitation. The adherents of this system (it is added) call it in 
 admiration " the Renaissance ; " the artistic mode of the ancient 
 Romans was born again. But why (they go on to say) should this have 
 been brought about ? To make the style of the Roman Empire by a 
 stroke of the pencil the style of Modern Europe was a sham, was it not ? 
 And if it has proved the fertile source of shams innumerable, what else 
 could we reasonably expect ? So runs the argument. 
 
 It cannot be denied that the features of the ancient Roman an^hi- 
 tecture were faithfully copied at the period in question, and that the 
 whole of Europe gradually accepted the rule. If so, it surely follows 
 that the Modern European style of that day — if worthy of the name of a 
 style — -would be this system ; but is it worthy of the name of a style ? 
 Various classes of debaters say it is not. 
 
 Again, if the mind of modern Europe were thus artificially perverted 
 from the course which natural development would have dictated, tin's 
 question can scarcely be avoided : — AVhat would that course have been ? 
 This inquiry has seldom been instituted with proper scientific intent ; 
 and it certainly has never been answered with any scientific precision. 
 We have been told in one way or another frequently that the architects 
 of this or that individual nation could, and, if left to tiiemselves, 
 presumably would, have found a style natural to the soil by the siin]»le 
 expedient of reverting to the mode which had prevailed with their 
 predecessors ; and it is suggested that they must Iuinc been allowed,
 
 16 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 of course, to " select " that particular " period " which would in their 
 opinion be the most meritorious or the most suitable. But the scientific 
 or logical objections to this conclusion are obvious. To speak of 
 selection in whatever sense is instantly fatal to the argument ; for it 
 can only signify a direct interference with the virtue of that process of 
 natural development which it is the very object of the argument to 
 preserve in its integrity. The suggestion of it is at the best but 
 the substitution of another artificiality for the one that is con- 
 demned ; it puts aside a revival here for the purpose of taking up a 
 revival there. The only question that could be at all scientifically asked 
 would be — why the local architects of the days of Renaissance could not 
 in each case have accepted without discrimination the mediaeval modes 
 or " periods " of their own country en bloc, allowing the fittest to survive 
 of itself ; but the answer manifestly is that even this measure of 
 " selection " would not be consistent with the laws of natural develop- 
 ment. Then what was really the condition of European architecture at 
 the great crisis we are deahng Avith ? Surely this — that the whole 
 ecclesiastical system of the Middle Ages had gone to decay, and its 
 architecture mth the rest. Like all other things, it had had its bright 
 morning long ago, its robust midday, its siesta-time of ease, indolence, 
 luxury, and enervation ; and now eventide had come with weakness and 
 weariness. To suppose, as many seem to do, tliat the classic revival 
 supplanted everywhere, or anywhere, even a semi-vigorous condition of 
 mediaeval art, is quite at variance with tlie facts of the case. To 
 suppose that exotic influences fought and conquered native influences is 
 equally wrong. The enemies of the great Church were in its own 
 household ; the revival of antique taste, with antique learning, was the 
 act of learned and accomplished men in the monasteries, not of agitators 
 in the streets. The manuscripts of Yitruvius, amongst the others, were 
 not picked up at the bookstalls, but taken from the shelves of the 
 convent libraries ; not pubhshed in the market place, but studied in the 
 cloister. Xone knew better than great churchmen of that day, that the 
 scheme of European society must pass inevitably into a new form— that 
 it was their own fate to be born in the winter, from which, however, 
 other but not better men would see a springtime arise. — Ed.] 
 
 IT. — Paixtixg and Sculpture. 
 
 The extraordinary development of the Italian School of Painting 
 in the course of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries was another 
 circumstance which had almost as much influence on the form which 
 the Ptenaissance style of Architecture took, as the revival of classical 
 Hterature, or any other of the circumstances pointed out above. 
 
 It is scarcely necessarv to do more here than allude to that wonder-
 
 INTRODUCTION : PAINTING AND SCULPTUEE. 17 
 
 fnl School of Art which first took consistence under Cimabue^ and 
 Giotto^ in the thirteenth century, almost contemporaneously with the 
 perfect development of the Pointed style in Xorthern Europe, and 
 progressing steadily and earnestly jyari passu, reached its culminating 
 point about the year 1500 in that galaxy of great Painters with whose 
 names the public are so familiar. 
 
 To the Italians in those ages Painting always was the art par 
 excellence, and they cultivated it with the same earnestness and assi- 
 duity which distinguished the cis-Alpine nations in elaborating their 
 beautiful style of architecture. In our buildings Painting was always 
 kept in strict subordination to structural necessities : with the Italians 
 the structure was generally considered as less important, and never 
 thought to be complete or perfect till the Painter had covered every 
 available space with the productions of his art. Even in so essentially 
 Tedesco a building as the Church of San Francesco at Assisi, the 
 paintings are thought, not only by the Italians, but by most modern 
 critics, as more admirable than the very beautiful Pointed Architecture 
 of the church itself. While this is not the case with any known church 
 on this side of the Alps. 
 
 One of the most complete and perfect examples, showing how pre- 
 eminent Painting was considered by the Italians, is the Chapel of the 
 Arena at Padua, painted l)y Giotto. The nave is merely a small 
 rectangular apartment, covered by a simple Pointed waggon-vault, 
 absolutely without a single architectural moulding of any sort, and 
 pierced with a range of narrow Pointed windows on one side only ; the 
 object of the whole arrangement being to afford the greatest possible 
 amount of' plain surface for Painting. If they could have lighted it 
 from the roof it is evident they would have done so ; but the art of 
 glazing was not then sufficiently advanced to admit of this. 
 
 On the left hand as you enter, the whole wall is divided into rect- 
 angular compartments separated by painted architectural borders, and 
 in each is a Scripture subject, painted in fresco. On the right hand the 
 same mode of treatment is followed, but interrupted by the windows, 
 and less perfectly seen, because of their hght interfering. Over the 
 doorway is represented the Last Judgment, and opposite this is a small 
 octagonal apse with architectural mouldings, but also richly painted. 
 
 The effect of the whole is so. pleasing that a candid critic will hesi- 
 tate before asserting that this little inexpensive cell will not stand 
 a fair comparison with the glories of such buildings as the contem- 
 porary Sainte Chapelle at Paris, or even St. Stephen's at Westminster. 
 Wonderful as these were as works of Art, there is a purity and simpli- 
 city and a loftiness of aim about this little chapel which go far to rival 
 their splendour ; and it is questionable whether in this direction some- 
 
 ' Bom 1240; died 1300. = Born 127G; died 1336. 
 
 VOL. I. ^
 
 18 HISTOHY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 thing even loftier and grander might not have been attained. Prac- 
 tically, perhaps, the real ol)jection to the dependence of Architectnre 
 on Painting alone, hes in the fact that we cannot always command 
 Giottos ; while we can he always sure of obtaining master-l)uilders ; but 
 more than this, it is evident that the effect of even Giotto's frescoes would 
 have l)een heightened by architectural mouldings being interspersed 
 with tliem. As usual, the truth is, that perfection lies between the two 
 extremes. The Italians of that age despised architecture as an internal 
 decoration far too much. We, on the contrary, neglected painting, in 
 order to display our mechanical skill ; and the consequence is, that, 
 though we produced miracles of masonry, our buildings want at times 
 just that touch of higher Art which would render them sublime. 
 
 This distinction between the Italian and Northern styles lies so 
 completely at the root of the whole subject, that it may be well, Ixifore 
 proceeding further, to advert to another more celebrated example, 
 the Sistine Chapel (Woodcut No. 1), which is not only decorated in 
 the same manner as the Arena Chapel, but, from the accident of the 
 time when it was erected, and the fame of those employed on it, 
 exercised immense influence on the future development of the Art. 
 
 By comparing it with the contemporary chapel at King's College, Cam- 
 bridge (Woodcut No. 2), we may perhaps arrive at some clear idea of the 
 distinctive modes of ornamenting interiors on the two sides of the Alps. 
 
 The Roman chapel was commenced for Pope Sixtus IV. by Baccio 
 Pintelli in 1478 ; the painting of the roof was completed by Michael 
 Angelo in 15(18, and the Last Judgment in 15-11. Externally the 
 chapel is as devoid of ornament as a barn. Internally it is an oblong 
 hall, less than 50 feet in width and 140 feet in length. The walls are 
 nearly plain to a height equal to the Avidth of the chapel, where a 
 coved ceiling in ])laster of very ordinary design springs from a string 
 course which is cut through by the round heads of the windows — six 
 on each side, and originally two at each end. Above this string course 
 all the architectural mouldings are merely painted on tlie flat surface of 
 the roof, and consecjuently generally ajipear in false perspective. Below 
 the bottom of these windows another string course supports a slight 
 pilaster, to carry the pilasters from which the arches of the cove spring, 
 and a third lower down separates the whole wall into three nearly 
 equal belts. The lowest of these, within the sanctuaiy, which occupies 
 two-thirds of the whole length of the chapel, was to be adorned with 
 the tapestries for which lla^thael made the cartoons now at South 
 Kensington. The next, or princi]>al l)clt. was adorned. (»n the left- 
 hand of the altar, by tyjtes from the old Testament by Signorelli, 
 Roselli, and others, and on the right-hand by their antityjyes from the 
 New Testament, by Perugino, Botticelli, Ghirlandajo, and others. The 
 Ascension of the Virgin was over the altar : the Nativity, and its type 
 the Finding of Moses, on either hand. 
 
 I
 
 INTRODUCTION : PAINTING AND SCUUTUJ!!'], li» 
 
 The third belt was oeenpied l)y the windows, with the li^iii-es 
 between, and over this came the famous ceiling painted by Michael 
 Angelo ; the cove occupied by Sybils and Prophets, and the well- 
 known groups which till up and enrich the whole : the flat part of the 
 ceiling by subjects beginning with the Creation at the end next 
 the altar, and ending with the Deluge at the end next the entrance. 
 The original design of the lower part of the chapel was afterwards 
 altered by Michael Angelo, who obliterated the two windows over the 
 altar, and the compartments which occupied that end, and filled the 
 whole with his great masterpiece, the Last Judgment. 
 
 Although King's College was founded by Henry VI. in 1441, the 
 building of the Chapel was not seriously undertaken till 147'J, and 
 was not completed in all essentials till 1530. It is a little less in 
 width than the Sistine Chapel being only 45 feet wide ; but it is 
 twice as long, being 290 feet internally, and divided into twelve bays 
 instead of six. It is also higher, being 78 feet to the apex of the roof 
 instead of 60. Throughout, from floor to keystone, its decorations 
 are as essentially masonic as those of the Sistine are pictorial ; the 
 paintings at Cambridge being as subordinate to the architecture as 
 that is subordinate to the ])ictures at Rome. In both the sul)jects are 
 the same, and similarly arranged ; the types from the Old Testament 
 being arranged in the windows on one side of the chapel, and the 
 subjects from the New Testament opposite to them on the other ; but 
 at Cambridge they are all on glass, and filled in between the archi- 
 tectural mnllions of the windows, so that no moulding or constructi\c 
 feature is broken or interfered with by the paintings, but, on the 
 contrary, the pictures are cut up and sometimes very seriously inter- 
 fered with by the architecture. 
 
 Waiving for the present all criticism on the merit of the paintings 
 which adorn the Sistine Cliapel, and assuming only that they were 
 carried out as originally designed by the artists who painted the 
 pictures on the wall, and waiving also all question as to whether 
 King's College Chapel is or is not a good specimen of (lothic Art, the 
 comparison of the tw(^» buildings fairly raises the question between 
 the two styles, in so far at least as interiors are concerned. 
 
 Is it better that a building should be ornamented fi'om Hoor to 
 ceiling with paintings a}))»r(»priate to its destination, or that it should 
 depend on constructixe and architectural details only for its (orna- 
 mentation ? Is it expedient to apply the resources of the highest of 
 the aesthetic phonetic arts to this purpose, or to depend oidy on an 
 aesthetic form of the technic art of architecture to accomplish this ' 
 object 1 
 
 Theoretically, it is easy to ansxver that the first is the highest, and 
 consequently the best ; and if the Italians had fairly carried out what 
 they so successfully commenced, it is tolerably clear that the (piestion
 
 20 
 
 HISTORY OF MODEHK ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Wfdild iiL'Vcr liu\-(j hceii afterwards raised, and that painting, and that 
 alone, wonld ha\'e been appHed as the highest class of internal deco- 
 ration. The introduction, ]io\ve\'er, of inapjiropriate classical architec- 
 ture into their interiors, and the abandonment in a great measure of 
 
 Gistillr CIwjipI, Kiiiiip. 
 
 the principles on wliicli the Arena and llu' SisLine Chapels were 
 designed, has so vitiated the cpiestion that it is not so easy to decide 
 it now. In the meanwhile it will probably be admitted . that a wall 
 di\idcd into compartments, and adorned with paintings designed for
 
 INTPtODUCTION : PAINTING AND SCULPTTTRE. 21 
 
 the place they occupy, is a higher class of oriiameutatioii than can he 
 obtained by any mere structural form. The cove of tiie Sistinc 
 Chapel is also very beautifully and very appropriately ornamented ; 
 but the flat part of the ceiling is certainly a mistake. It depends 
 
 Kiug's College Chapel, Cambridge. 
 
 on your position, standing at the altar or at the entrance, whether 
 you see the figures upside down or not. It is always irksome and 
 unpleasing to look up at figures immediately above yon, and it is 
 impossible to get rid of the feeling- that tliey may or should tumble
 
 22 HISTOKY OF MODERN AltCHITECTURE. 
 
 out of their places. It is, besides, au offence against construction. 
 If a wall is sufficiently thick, and is perpendicular, the eye requires 
 no suggestion of construction to be satisfied of its stability : but Avith 
 a roof it is different. If of stone, the most elaborate contrivances 
 must be resorted to to satisfy the mind of its stability : if of wood, 
 the framing ought to be shown : and if of any other material, 
 coffering or panelling, or some other expedient, must be employed 
 to suggest to the mind that the inherent difficulty of the construction 
 of a horizontal covering has been successfully accomplished. There 
 are, consequently, a thousand ways by which it can be enriched or 
 ornamented either with colour or mouldings, but it may safely be 
 asserted that it should never be by figure-i)ainting. So thoroughly 
 imbued, however, were the Italians with the idea that figure-painting, 
 and that only, was the appropriate way of ornamenting interiors, that 
 they set a fushinn wliicli was followed in every palace and almost every 
 church of Europe for the folhtwing two or three centuries. Every 
 one can call to mind the sprawling gods and goddesses or saints and 
 angels who cover the ceilings of the ]>alaces and churches of that style. 
 It was a mistake when so used, and in fact it was the abuse, iK)t the 
 use, of painting, coupled with the abuse of chissical orders, which pre- 
 Acnted the interiors of the Renaissance churches from ri\alliiig those 
 of the (lOthic age. 
 
 Almost all these defects were avoided in the Arena Chapel, and 
 nn'ght easily have been obviated in any building specially designed to 
 be decorated by paintings. The circumstance which really rendered 
 the system a comparati\e failure was the sinudtaneoiis introduction of 
 the classical orders as interior decorations. These cut the Imilding up 
 in such a manner as to destroy all unity of effect, and left the ]»ainter 
 to fit his designs into such spaces as the architect left liini. It also 
 rendered the latter supi'eme in carrying out a design whieh was neither 
 meant to exhibit ornamental construction, like the Cambridge example, 
 nor to afford unlimited scope for the art of the painter, like the Arena 
 Cha])el, nor even to combine the two. like the Sistine : the object being 
 to produce a classi(;al interior which nn'ght to some extent rejtresent 
 construction, but which if adorned with jiainting must ]>e so in due 
 sulx)rdination to the classical details. 
 
 The treatment that such a building as the Sistine Chapel ought to 
 have received externally is obvious enough. It ought to have been 
 ])lain ashlar masonry, perhaps slightly accentuated at the angles, up to 
 the string course at the bottom of the windows. These ought to have 
 been enriched with appropriate mouldings and ornaments, and over 
 them there should have been a cornicione of sufficient projection and 
 richness, which would have completed an a])propriate and l)eautiful 
 whole ; suggesting the interior and the purpose for which it was used. 
 
 Anv arcliitcfi wlut knew his Imsines'^ would ha\e felt the enormous
 
 INTRODUCTION : PAINTING AND SCULPTUEE. 23 
 
 advantage of getting rid of Imttresses and supports of all sorts, and, 
 having no constnictive difficulties to contend with, he ought easily 
 to have surpassed the complicated construction of the Middle Ages, 
 where beauty is always obliged to bend to mechanical necessities. 
 This was not, unfortunately, the way the Italian architects looked 
 at it. They were bitten with a mania for classicality, and, with 
 the Amphitheatre and the Temples before their eyes, thought it 
 indispensable to beauty that every building should be covered with a 
 network of pilasters and arcades, and hooped with cornices one over 
 another, in defiance, generally speaking, of either architectural beauty 
 or constructive necessities. 
 
 If it had happened that the Italians had developed Sculpture on 
 the same truthful principles and with the same energy which they 
 applied to Painting, the history of Architectural Art might have been 
 very different from what it has been. There is no argument which 
 applies to the use of Painting internally which does not apply with 
 erjual force to the employment of the sister art externally. The two 
 are, in fact, when pro])erly applied, the highest and most legitimate 
 modes of ornamenting buildings. But this is only the case when they 
 adhere strictly to their own princi])les, and are each carried out in 
 their own appropriate forms. The two may l)e, and ought always to 
 be, linked together by the intermediate art of Architectural carving. 
 But neither of the two princii)al arts ought ever to be allowed to 
 interfere with the province of the other, or to transgress on that of 
 tlie third, or harmonizing art, which is in itself for Architectural 
 purposes scarcely less important than the otliers. While plaster, with 
 which the internal walls nuist always be more or less covered, affords 
 tiie best possible surface for painting, sculpture may and generally 
 should be executed in the same materials of which the wall is com- 
 posed to which it is applied. It is so easy to jn-ovide panels for 
 groups, either in high or low relief, and belts for friezes or niches 
 for single statues. All this might have been adopted by the Italian 
 architects, and, without violating one single principle of construction, 
 might have rendered the exterior of their buildings as phonetic as 
 the interior, and given life and meaning to the whole. Unfortunately 
 tlie mania for the " Orders " left no place for statues, except as acroteria 
 above the roof : but there tlicy were as inappropriate and as unhappy 
 as the figures painted on the ceilings were on the inside. Before the 
 " Orders " became an absolute fixed quantity, the Cinque-cento architects 
 very nearly hit on the right path. They felt that painting was not 
 applicable to the exterior of edifices, and in consequence proposed to 
 rejirodnce in stone on tlie exterior of their buildings the arabesque 
 or other decorative designs which had been found painted in the baths 
 <>{' Titus, and which Raphael and others have so successfully imitated 
 in the loggie oF the Vatican and elsewhere (Woodcut Xo. ;|). This taste
 
 24 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 did not last long, for it was soon discovered that what was elegant and 
 appropriate when sketched in colours for an interior, became an expensive 
 monstrosity when deliberately carved in stone and set up as part of a 
 gigantic facade. It was, besides, an attempt to use in one art the 
 designs only appropriate for another. It failed in consequence, and 
 from its failure the architects fell back on the easy but most inartistic 
 subterfuge of copying the classical orders, to hide their own sad want 
 of appreciation of the true conditions of the 
 problem they had undertaken to solve. 
 
 Any one who casts his eye over the wonderful 
 fa?ade of the Certosa at Pavia,^ or of the Spanish 
 and French ch:irches of the same age, is lost in 
 wonder at the amount of labour bestowed upon 
 them. He may be fascinated by the beauty of 
 their details, but he cannot but feel that, con- 
 sidering the labour involved, their real effect is 
 less than that produced by any other style of 
 decoration. It was, in fact, applying to an 
 exterior what really belonged to internal art, 
 and to a hard and durable material a style ap- 
 propriate only to the fanciful sketchiness per- 
 missible with more perishable materials. 
 
 The failure of this attempt led to a most 
 unfortunate reaction in the opposite direction. 
 Finding that this style of internal decoration 
 failed to produce the desired effect when applied 
 externally, and not perceiving that the failure 
 was in the mode of doing it, and not in the thing 
 itself, the architects of the day crowded the 
 interiors of their churhes and palaces with the 
 great Orders which the Romans designed and 
 destined chiefly for external decoration ; they 
 thus produced not only most offensive inappro- 
 priateness, but dwarfed their buildings and cramped their designs to an 
 extent which will be only too often apparent in the sequel. 
 
 tWd 
 
 % 
 
 Fragment from the Pelle- 
 grini Chapel, Verona. 
 
 V. — Technic and Phonetic Forms of Art. 
 
 The differences pointed out above between the modes in which the 
 art of Architecture was practised before the Reformation and after 
 that event, are sufficient to account for all the formal changes that 
 then took place, and to explain the influences which gave rise to the 
 external variations of style between the two epochs : and they have 
 
 See WiK.clcut No. 22.
 
 INTRODUCTION : FORMS OF ART. 
 
 25 
 
 also the advantage of being intelligible to the most saperti('ial observi'v. 
 But the real and essential change lies deeper, and cannot 1)e properly 
 explained without reviewing the whole philosophy of the arts in a 
 manner which would be entirely out of place in the Introduction to 
 such a work as this. It is, however, so important, that a brief state- 
 ment of the principal points is indispensable before proceeding 
 further.^ 
 
 All the arts practised by man may be divided into two great 
 classes — the Technic Arts and the Phonetic Arts. To the first group 
 belong all those which are concerned with the production of food, 
 clothing, and shelter for man, and generally all the useful arts. In 
 the other class are gi'ouped all those arts which arise out of the special 
 gift of speech, which man enjoys alone of all living beings. It com- 
 prises Poetry, Painting, Sculpture, and, in short all those arts which 
 minister to the intellectual wants of mankind, as the Technic arts were 
 invented to supply his physical necessities. 
 
 Of course it is impossil)le to draw a line sharply between the two 
 groups, so as accurately to define their limits, and the one continually 
 overlaps the other in a manner to prevent any compendious system of 
 classification that can be stated in a few words. For present purposes 
 this is of little consequence, as all that is wanted here is to point out 
 the different modes in which perfection is attained in either class. 
 
 The process by which progress is achieved in the useful arts is 
 very much the same as that by which investigations are conducted in 
 the sciences. In the latter, after they hive pissed their infancy, the 
 individual is nothing, the age everything. If a giant does occasionally 
 appear, he only makes a rapid step in advance, Avhich would l)e accom- 
 plished as certainly, though perhaps more slowly, by ten dwarfs. It 
 is bit by bit, hour by hour, year by year, that our agriculture has 
 been converted from the rude processes of our forefathers to the high 
 farming of the present day, that the galley of the Edwards has 
 l)een developed into the Agincourt or the Great Eastern, or that the 
 narrow spans of the mediaeval bridges have been superseded by the 
 spacious arches of London Bridge or the fairy framework that spans 
 tlie Tamar. 
 
 Few know, and fewer care to learn, who were the men wlio 
 invented all the multifarious processes of modern agriculture. No 
 one, if he tried, could find out who improved our ships ; and even now, 
 though the attention of all the world has been fixed upon them ever 
 since their keels were laid, no one knows who designed the Warrior or 
 the Agincourt. 
 
 * The ckfiniiion and classification of 
 the useful and fiue arts were fully treated 
 of in 1849 in ' The True Principles of 
 Beauty in Art,' by the author, to wiiicli 
 
 the reader is referred. Wliat ishere stated 
 is the merest abstract of that treatise, 
 but is sufficient, it is lioped, for the pin- 
 poses of this volume.
 
 26 HISTORY OF MODERN ATiCIIITECTUP.E. 
 
 In the late competition for the new Blackfriui-s Bridge no one 
 cared who was the engineer to be appointed. Of those who competed, 
 some suggested a three, some a five, others a seven arched bridge. 
 Some were for wrought, others for cast iron ; some preferred stone, or 
 granite, or brick. But that is all. The Common Council — like a 
 Media3val Chapter — had to decide on the number of arches, the mate- 
 rial, and the expense. That done, there are a hundred men, any one 
 of whom could build the bridge as well, as the remaining ninety-nine. 
 All the public cared to know was, that, whoever was employed, it 
 certainly would be a better bridge of its class than any that had been 
 built before. Exactly as it was with architecture in the Middle 
 Ages, so it is now with engineering, and so it always must be when 
 an art is cultivated on true principles. 
 
 In the present day any man can know more of astronomy or optics 
 than was known to Newton, or can be a better chemist than Sir 
 Humphry Davy. Any mechanic can make a l)etter steam-engine 
 than Watt, or a better power-loom than (h'ompton : and it recpiires no 
 special ability to build a better ship or bridge than any that were 
 built in the last century. 
 
 When, however, we come to the phonetic arts the case is widely 
 different. We do not now find men writing better ejiics than Homer, 
 or better dramas than Shakespeare : we do not see finer sculptures 
 than those of Phidias, or more beautiful paintings than those of 
 Raphael. In all these instan(;es the individual must be everything, 
 the age little or nothing. So completely do we feel this, that, while 
 we are prepared to give thousands of pounds for an original picture by 
 any great master, we will not give one hundred or even as many shil- 
 lings for a copy, though that may be so perfect that, if seen under the 
 same circumstances, not one man in a thousand could detect which was 
 the original. We treasure a statue by Canova or Flaxman if we know 
 it to be genuine, or a sketch l)y Reynolds or Hogarth, or a fragment 
 of a drama by Shakespeare, or of a tale l)y Walter Scott — though far 
 bettei- things may have been done 1)y those masters themselves or by 
 others ; but it is the individual who stamps the value on everything 
 in these arts, and they are prized accordingly. 
 
 The fact of an esthetic element l)eing added to useful art, though 
 it ol)literates to a certain extent the broad line of demarcation between 
 the two groups, does not alter in the least the process by which excel- 
 lence must be attained in the Technic, as contradistinguished from 
 that to be followed in the Phonetic arts. 
 
 Mineralogy and Metallurgy have been refined into Je\s^ellery and 
 Orfevrerie, Pottery into all the forms of Ceramic art. Weaving into 
 Embroidery, Dyeing into Tapisserie, by exactly the same process 
 which distinguishes every other step in these manufactures. 
 
 Every iixr/ii] art is in fact capable of l»ciiig rcfiiic<l into ;\ fine wri.
 
 INTPiODUCTION : FORMy OF AllT. 27 
 
 so as not only to supply the sensual wants, but also to gratify the 
 intellectual desires of mankind, but that can only be done by gradu- 
 ally elaborating its special advantages, never by borrowing from 
 other arts. 
 
 To return to the three primary divisions — Cooking may be refined 
 into Gastronomy, Tailoring into an important art without a name, 
 and Building into Architecture. Identically the same process which 
 makes the difference between a boiled neck of mutton and a dish of 
 cotelettes a I'lmpefiale, or converts the working di'ess of a house- 
 maid into the coronation robes of a queen, can convert the most 
 commonplace building merely designed for shelter into a Palace or 
 a Temple. 
 
 So long as this path was followed, progress was achieved in Archi- 
 tecture as in all the technic fine arts by every people of every nation, 
 even the most savage ; wherever it has been abandoned, success has 
 become impossible. 
 
 So completely is all this practically acknowledged, that no one 
 ever dreams of altering the poem of even a very inferior poet or of 
 improving a statue or a picture, though they may be only the second- 
 class works of artists of no special eminence. But in the Middle Ages 
 no one ever hesitated to rebuild the nave of a cathedral or to add 
 towers or chapels in the newest fashion to the oldest churches. No 
 Comptroller of the Navy ever hesitated to cut one of Sir W. Symonds' 
 ships in two if by lengthening her he could improve her qualities. 
 No one regretted the pulling down of Old London Bridge, nor has any 
 one suggested that Westminster or Blackfriars should be rel»uilt 
 exactly as they originally were out of respect to the memory of 
 Labelye or Mylnc. 
 
 On the other hand, it would be considered sacrilege to meddle with 
 or attempt to improve St. Paul's Cathedral out of respect for Wren ; 
 Blenheim must remain the most uncomfortable of palaces because it 
 was so left by Vanbrugh, and even Barry's Parliament Houses have 
 l)ecome a fixed quantity that no one must interfere with. In fact, the 
 individual is now everything in Architectural An, while the age is of 
 as little importance as in a poem or a picture. 
 
 A history of Poetry without the names of the authors of the poems 
 must be as unreadable as it would be unintelligible, while a collection 
 of the Lives of the Poets is one of the most interesting works that can 
 be written, and it adds immensely to the interest of a poem to know 
 the circumstances under which it was written. The same is true to 
 a very great extent as regards Painting and Sculpture. In these arts 
 the genius and taste of the individual artist are always uppermost in 
 our mind, and whether he belonged to an ancient or to a modern 
 school, whether he could or could not draw or colour, is f>f compara- 
 tively httle consequence. It is the mind that guided the hand that
 
 28 HISTORY OF MODEPiN ARCniTECTUTtE. 
 
 interests or speaks to our hearts tlirouoli every difficulty and every 
 disguise. 
 
 With Architecture the case is widely different. We do not know, 
 or care to know, the name of a single Egyptian or Indian architect. 
 But any one who has travelled in India may have seen in the present 
 century such buildings rising before his eyes as the ghauts at Benares, 
 the tombs and palaces at Deeg, the temples of Southern India— and if he 
 had inquired, he would have found that they were being erected by local 
 masons — men who could neither read, write, nor draw, but who can design 
 at this hour as beautiful buildings as any that ever graced that land. 
 
 [The Lesson to be derived fkom Native Indian Architec- 
 ture : — The odd w'ay in which the ancient building arts are still carried 
 on by the people of India has occasionally l>een impressed upon us as a 
 serious critical study. When a work even of magnitude is projected by 
 native authorities, for their own native purj)oses, they do not proceed 
 as we do upon drawings of the design previously considered and settled 
 ill ramcra ; but, establishing themselves upon the spot selected for the 
 site, and setting out their phin in a simple way, they plant the projier 
 artisans upon this ground, ea(;h one in his own place and his own turn, 
 and, as it were, tell them to set to work — allowing the building and all 
 that pertains to its completeness to become evolved out of the inner 
 consciousness of these workmen. This, we are told, is the mode that 
 has produced all the highly elaborated monuments of architectural art in 
 ancient and modern times throughout the East ; and we are invited to 
 consider whether it is not a very proper mode. Not only so, but it is 
 suggested that it is to a similar practice that Ave are indebted for the 
 grand ecclesiastical works of Mediffival Europe; and on this ground we 
 are all the more urgently asked to recognise it. A somewhat kindred 
 principle was at one time inculcated by Burges — always paradoxical, but 
 in this case not so much so as he often was — namely, that an architect 
 ought to devote himself wholly to a single building at a time, lodging on 
 the spot with his assistants, and directing the workmen personally from 
 hour to hour. But this notion, on closer inspection, is seen to have 
 essentially a different object from the Oriental practice, for in the East 
 there is no architect or universally-directing designer at all. It seems 
 on the other hand to be admitted that in the Middle Ages there always 
 was employed at least a "master of the works." At all events, the 
 Eastern practice operates in this way :— each artisan in himself, more or 
 less unaided, is the portable embodiment of a certain narrow specialty 
 or personal method of workmanship, including the design and the 
 execution together, which he has learnt from his father and will teach 
 to his son, and from which he will never attempt to deviate. The 
 constructive system and the decorative system, as a single and entire 
 modus operaiuli, he can only administer in one accustomed way ; and 
 for the achievement of novelty, even of variety, nothing can be done
 
 INTR(3DUCT10N : FORMS OF ART. 29 
 
 by the employer of such cirtis'ins but to lay out an uuaccustoiued plan on 
 the ground and employ workmen who use a locally unfamiliar method. 
 Reo-arded critically, perhaps this accounts for the very remarkal)le way 
 in which the building decoration of India seems to have long ago lost 
 touch with the motive of construction. It is, perhaps, fair to say that 
 so-called Indian Architecture is not architecture at all, but superficial 
 decoration and absolutely nothing else. When the Parisian mason 
 sometimes puts up a lieaNy Italian cornice in block stone and then 
 ])roceeds to set out the enriched detail so that the joints flagrantly 
 disagree with the carving, the more prosaic Englishman cannot help 
 saying it is a pity he did not adjust his blocks beforehand to suit his 
 ornament, seeing tliat he cannot adjust the ornament afterwards to suit 
 the l)locks ; but what is done by the Oriental mason, or plasterer, or 
 wood-carver, seems to l)e, not occasionally to make a thoughtless l)lunder 
 like this, l)ut invariably to put his material together on one principle 
 and subsequently decorate the surfaces on another. Perliaps it may be 
 suggested that to some extent the ])ractice of carving in the solid rock 
 may have led to this dissociation of the features of decoration from the 
 features of construction ; or perhaps the Oriental is Ity nature more an 
 ornamentalist than a Imilder ; but be this as it may, it seems at least 
 plain that there is nothing in this Indian system of One man one pattern 
 which to us is of any use. We may fairly add that the unlettered and 
 wholly mechanical " designer," or rather worker of such a school would 
 neither expect nor care to have his name enrolled in the records of 
 artistic enterprise ; he is both too dull and too lazy. — Ed.] 
 
 For the same reason, no one has cared to record the names of the 
 designers of the mediaeval cathedrals : probably few knew even then 
 who the architects were, more than we know now who designed our 
 ships of war : and if we understood the principles of the art, it would 
 be of the least possible interest to us to know who they were. The 
 art was a true art, and it was more difficult to do wrong then, than it 
 is to do right now. No genius, however great, could then enable an 
 individual to get much ahead of his compeers, while the most ordinary 
 ability enabled any one to do as well as the rest. 
 
 But in our age, when Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture are 
 classed as sister arts, and it is assumed they may be conducted on the 
 same principles, the case is widely different. Painting and Scul})ture, 
 as just remarked, are essentially Phonetic arts, i.e., arts used either to 
 perpetuate or accentuate vocal utterances, or to supplement what is 
 written, and they effect this generally by imitatiug existing things. 
 
 In Egypt these two arts took the place of writing entirely, and, 
 owing to there l)eing no alpha])et, became hieroglyphical, and were 
 actually the only mode of recording speech. Since the invention of 
 the alphabet, they have ceased to be the principal mode of recording 
 thoughts, and (;an only be regarded as sui>plemeutal to written modes
 
 30 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 of expression. They possess, from their power of imitation and pecii- 
 har vividness of representation, many advantages over the mere litm-a 
 acripta in many circumstances ; still they are, and always were, parts 
 of the same class of things. 
 
 Such a series of pictures, for instance, as the Eake's Progress or 
 the story of the Two Apprentices by Hogarth, are original novels 
 written with the brush ; and nine-tenths of our paintings and sculp- 
 tures are merely transpositions of passages in books expressing in 
 another form what had before been recorded alphabetically. The rest 
 are imitative representations of persons or things. 
 
 Speaking, Writing, Painting, Sculpture, are merely different modes 
 in which men's thoughts can be communicated to other men, or per- 
 petuated for the use of posterity. But with these Architecture has 
 nothing in common ; it neither illustrates any literature nor imitates 
 anything. Its object is to supply wants of a totally distinct class, and 
 it reaches its aims by an entirely different mode. 
 
 Architecture is in fact nothing more than the iBsthetic form of the 
 purely Technic art of building, and can only be elaborated successfully 
 on the same principles which guide and govern all the purely Technic 
 arts. If all this is clearly appreciated it will easily be perceived that 
 the really great change that was introduced into the practice of Archi- 
 tecture at the Keformation was this : a Technic art came to be (ailti- 
 vated on the principles which ])elong only to one of the Plionetic class. 
 After this it would be ridiculous to talk of St. Peter's without naming 
 Michael Angelo, or St. Paul's without alluding to Wren, or Blenheim 
 or the Parliament Houses without the name of Vanbrugh or Barry. 
 Though the cause has hardly been understood, this has been so essen- 
 tially felt, that hardly any one has attempted to write a continuous 
 history of the Renaissance styles of Architecture ; but Vasari, IMilizia, 
 Be Quincey, and many others have written the lives of the most emi- 
 nent architects. So completely is it a fact that a building has now 
 become the expression of an indi^•idual mind, that, were it not that it 
 will be convenient to follow the same system in treating of the moiJi'ni, 
 as has been adopted in describing the ancient forms of Architectural Art, 
 it might be well to profit by their example in the following pages. The 
 " Lives " will always be more interesting than the history, and more 
 pleasant to read ; but it is only so, because the art is cultivated on 
 mistaken principles which can never conduce to progress or lead 
 towards the attainment of perfection. 
 
 The first inconvenience of this new system is that it subjects Art 
 to the caprices and vagaries of an individual intellect, which, if good, 
 would have added value to a work of true Art, Imt, if bad, proclaims its 
 deficiencies in every part of a design. It has the further inconvenience 
 that what a man learns in his lifetime dies with him, and his successor 
 has to begin at the beginning, and, following what may be a totally
 
 INTllODUCTION : FORMS OF ART. 31 
 
 different track, their careers neither assist nor prol)aV)ly even cross each 
 other. But perhaps the greatest inconvenience is the remarkal)ly small 
 amount of thought of any kind that a modern building ever displays. 
 An architect in practice never can afford many hours to the artistic 
 elaboration of his design. The plan, the details, the specifications 
 may occupy weeks — in large buildings probably months — but once 
 drawn, it is done with. In almost all cases the pillars, the cornices, 
 the windows, the details are not only repeated over and over again in 
 every part, but are probal)ly all borrowed from some other building of 
 some other age, and, to save trouble, the one half of the building is 
 only a reversed tracing of the other. In one glance you see it all. 
 With five minutes' study you have mastered the whole design, and 
 penetrated into every principle that guided the architect in making it ; 
 and so difficult is it to express thought where utility must be con- 
 sulted, and where design is controlled by construction, that the result 
 is generally meagre and unsatisfactory in the extreme. In a work of 
 true art, such as a mediasval cathedral for instance, the case is different. 
 Not only is there built into it the accumulated thought of all the men 
 who had occupied themselves with building during the preceding cen- 
 turies, and each of whom had left his legacy of thought to be incor- 
 porated with the rest, but you have the dream and aspiration of the 
 bishop, who designed it ; of all his clergy, who took an interest in it : of 
 the master mason, who was skilled in construction ; of the carver, the 
 painter, the glazier, of the host of men who, each in his own craft, 
 knew all that had been done before them, and had spent their lives in 
 struggling to surpass the works of their forefathers. It is more than 
 even this : there is not one shaft, one moulding, one carving, not one 
 chisel-mark in such a Imikling, that was not designed specially for the 
 place where it is found, and which was not the best that the experience 
 of the age could invent for the purposes to which it is applied ; nothing- 
 was borrowed, and nothing that was designed for one purpose was 
 used for another. You may wander in such a building for weeks or 
 for months together, and ne\'er know it all. A thought or a moti\c 
 peeps out through every joint, and is manifest in every moulding, and 
 the very stones speak to you with a voice as clear and as easily under- 
 stood as the words of the poet or the teaching of the historian. Hence, 
 in fact, the little interest we can ever feel in even the stateliest of 
 modern buildings, and the undying, never-satisfied interest with which 
 we study, over and over again, those which have liecn produced under 
 a different and truer system of Art. 
 
 All this is as true of Classical Art as it is of Gothic, though we lune 
 not the same means of judging of it. It is certainly equally true of 
 the Indian styles, and even the quaint, grotesque style of the Chinese 
 acquires a certain amount of dignity from this cause to which it cer- 
 tainly is not entitled for any other quahty of design.
 
 32 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 The evils pointed out above have been aggravated in modern times 
 by Architecture being handed over too esckisively to professional men — 
 to men who live by it and make it their business, and who generally 
 succeed more from their business-like habits than their artistic powers. 
 It was well said by Victor Hugo, " Ceci tuera cela : le Livre tuera 
 TEglise." The doom of Architecture was sealed from that hour when 
 Literature became the only object of study, and the only aim of a 
 polite education ; and more especially when the poetry, the eloquence, 
 the history, or the philosophy of the Classical periods were alone con- 
 sidered worthy to occupy the attention of the upper classes. They 
 still might admire or occupy themselves with Painting and Sculpture, 
 in so far as they were or could be employed to illustrate that liite- 
 rature, or might admire Iniildings which recalled it ; but Architecture 
 ceased to be a matter of education or a requisite part of the knowledge 
 of a gentleman, it ceased to occupy their serious attention, and con- 
 sequently became professional — a matter of l)usiness, and no longer 
 the dream of poetic or the occupation of refined and educated minds. 
 Though the architects might be, and very often were, men of genius and 
 of taste, they had not the leisure requisite to elaliorate their designs, 
 and were always under the disadvantage of working out designs for 
 other parties, and controlled either by a want of taste on the part of 
 their employers, or an unwillingness to spend the money requisite to 
 carry out a design artistically. It was no longer, in fact, the natural 
 form of utterance, or the occupation and favourite recreation of the best 
 educated and most refined classes of the modern nations of Europe ; 
 and it need hardly be added that, even from this cause alone, it must 
 have sunk very far below the level at which it formerly had stood. 
 
 [The Pkofessioxal Architect : the Socialist Principle for 
 Art -Work :— All students of the Philosophy of Art must take especial 
 care in these days not to be misled by doctrinarians. Amongst other 
 things there has arisen in several forms an idea, professing to be purely 
 ])ractical and workmanlike, not at all theoretical or scholastic, to the 
 effect that the art-worker, whether called artist or artisan, is bound in 
 fetters by a class of middlemen, mere commercial dealers and shop- 
 keepers, who must be swept away in toto if true art is ever to flourish 
 as it ought. Art is too ethereal a thing to be carried to the market ; 
 it evaporates on the way. The market — in the person of any middle- 
 man — shall not even enter the studio or the workshop. Producer and 
 consumer must come together — or rather the admiring consumer must 
 come to the admired producer — without any of that intervention of a 
 base mechanical kind which, too obviously for argument, must in the 
 very nature of such things, demolish all the charm of the transaction. 
 Of course there is a great deal to be said, and to the great satisfaction 
 of impulsive genius, in favour of a proposition so poetical ; but on the 
 other hand it is affirined, with greater soberness if Avith less enthusiasm.
 
 INTRODUCTION : FORMS OF ART. 33 
 
 that tlie middleman in tliese days is, in fact, the third and conneetino- 
 hnk withont which the other two wonld entirely fail to he joined in any 
 way whatever. Xo doubt the dealer, contractor, "master," or other 
 middleman, is too often a mere counting-house trader, and occasionally 
 a good deal of an impostor ; but suppose he is, are there uo other 
 " masters " mere traders and even impostors, whom we nevertheless 
 cannot dispense with ? In truth there may be a great many more than 
 we can conveniently identify. But suppose he is not — a much more 
 reasonable assumption, for it is not imposture as a rule that thrives in 
 any intellectual business — then wdiat follows? In commercial phraseo- 
 logy, if "the distributor" is to be abolished, what is to be the con- 
 serjueuce of his abolition? Simply the cessation of the distriliution. 
 All tln-ough the world, the distributor, the broker, the agent, the dealer, 
 the middleman, is as essential to the exchange of goods for good things 
 as the coin with which the exchange is effected, and perhaps more so. 
 Let the art-producer insist upon improving the art-dealer by all means ; 
 but to talk of sweeping him aside in any degree is surely not the way 
 in these days to better the situation. 
 
 Not unconnected with this new art-socialism in principle is the 
 doctrine that the professional architect is a useless, indeed a pernicious 
 middleman. One bold doctrinarian a few years ago went so far as to 
 argue in the plainest terms that true architectural art could only be 
 that which would be produced by the bricklayer, or the plasterer, undei" 
 the inspiration of his own initiative. Let us say the mason, the carver, 
 or the plasterer, as in India, and the irrationality is less conspicuous : 
 at any rate the meaning was that there must not be any academical 
 architect to conventionalise artisanship, which was supposed to have 
 high merit of its own essence. But it is surely useless to enter into 
 argument, with a practical critic, on any such basis. The architect, 
 regarded as an artist directing artisans, is obviously the trained and 
 accepted commander of their artisanship, the " chief of the workmen," 
 the embodiment of a harmonious result for all their several artisanships 
 combined. Especially at the present day, when the architect has in a 
 great many instances expanded into the universal architectural artist, 
 or master of the many fine-arts of building, it accords with reason, and 
 no practical artisan will deny it, that his command is what stands between 
 miscellaneous artisanship and failure — failure certainly to meet the 
 difficult demands of the ever-ad\ancing fastidiousness, culture, and haste 
 of modern civilisation. Improve architects by all means ; indeed they 
 are being very rapidly improved everywhere by natural development ; but, 
 instead of abolishing them, the certainty rather is that society must 
 classify them, applying in this as in all else the great principle of the 
 subdivision of labour and skill for the supply of the increasing 
 exigencies of life. If a few words more may be added, let it be re- 
 membered with regret, if not with shame, that to ordinary Englishmen 
 Vol. I. 1)
 
 34 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 the architect is as yet only a broker of building, who, for an agreed 
 payment, undertakes to save much more in money than he costs ; 
 and that it is chiefly this architect who is getting to be more and more 
 in demand all over the country. On the other hand, although the 
 artistic designer of high class is a man of another order, it might be 
 surprising to many who talk glibly of the difference, if they could come 
 to know how creditably the inferior class of men are every day acquiring 
 those qualifications which enable and entitle them to commingle and 
 take rank with the superior. — Ed.] 
 
 Another and cognate circumstance that mainly influenced the fate 
 of Architecture at this period was, that most of those who first prac- 
 tised it at the time the revolution took place were either amateurs or 
 sculptors and painters. Alberti may be named as among the earliest 
 and the most distinguished of the first class. Among the latter, it 
 is hardly necessary to name Michael Angelo, Raphael, Giulio Romano, 
 Pcruzzi, Leonardo da Vinci, &c. Of all these men, the last named 
 alone had the pecuhar mechanical and mathematical form of mind 
 which may enable a man to dispense with educational training. The 
 consequences of this might easily have been foreseen. All painters 
 can make architectural designs for the backgrounds of their pictures, 
 and many of them do it with excellent effect. Where they w^ant 
 shadows they have porticoes at command ; where too large a flat 
 space occurs, it is easy to break it up with pilasters ; cornices and 
 string courses contrast well with vertical Unes, and niches alter- 
 nating with windows give variety ; while domes and spires may 
 break the sky-line to any extent. All this is easy, and may all be 
 sketched in a morning. But if any one supposes that such a design 
 will make a permanently satisfactory building, he knows little of 
 the demands of a true art, and how little its requirements are to 
 l)e met l;)y such child's play. It must nevertheless be confessed that 
 this is too much the mode in which modern designs are made : it 
 is just because they are so constructed that they are so generally 
 failures. 
 
 A technic art, when up to the mark, requires for its practice not 
 only the devotion of a life on the part of the master, but all his subordi- 
 nates must each be able to perform independently the task assigned to 
 him. In the art of ship-building, civil or mechanical engineering, 
 mentioned above, from the master who sits in his office and organises 
 the whole, to the boy who sweeps out the workshop, every one must be 
 skilled in his own speciality, and every one able to perform, more or 
 less perfectly, the task of every one below him ; all must know and be 
 able to introduce every improvement and refinement that has been 
 practised elsewhere up to that hour. With such an organisation as 
 this, perfection is now attained in the mechanical arts. With a similar 
 combination, perfection was reached in Architecture in the Middle
 
 INTRODUCTION: FORMS OF ART. 35 
 
 Ao'es ; a.iid the attempt to supersede this, and to introduce the plan of 
 designing by the sketches of an individual, is really the root of the 
 difference between the two systems. Even now it never could have 
 been carried through, unless Architecture had been reduced to its 
 simplest form of expression. Unless a modern architect is allowed to 
 borrow his pillars, his cornices, his details, wholesale from some other 
 Iniilding, he never could get on. He must either, under pretence of 
 looking like the Classical architects, make his buildings uniformly 
 simple, or, fancying he is emulating the Gothic architects, make them 
 designedly irregular, or he never could get through with his work. 
 In the present state of the art, no one man, however skilled, could 
 properly think out all the details of even one important building in a 
 lifetime ; and, \vithout a reorganisation of the whole system, we must 
 in consequence be content to allow copying to the fullest extent, and 
 must be satisfied with shams, either Classical or Medireval, until at 
 least the public are better instructed, and demand or initiate a recur- 
 rence to the principles that guided the architects of those ages when 
 true and real buildings were produced. 
 
 [The ENrxLivSH Counterfeit of the Nineteenth Century : — T. 
 we turn to the consideration of the indiscriminate imitation of old 
 examples of all schools by the English architects of the Nineteenth 
 (^entury — whose motives, of course, we of the same class are best able 
 to understand — the first excuse that appears to offer itself is that in 
 certain instances the work of designing a building has to be done after 
 the manner of making a toy. To take a well-known extreme case : if 
 King George the Fourth desired to have a lodging at Brighton in the 
 guise of an Oriental pagoda, no one could prevent him, and those who 
 cared to laugh, whether at the pagoda or at the King, could do so. But 
 let us carry the imitative principle far enough to ask, Where shall imitation 
 stop ? Perhaps this question cannot be conveniently answered in the 
 abstract ; let us then take a very different case- — one which we need 
 not at all hesitate to answer. It certainly must be admitted that the 
 imitation which constitutes the reproduction of Mediaeval Art in our 
 cui'rent church Imilding is in practice as meritorious as the Brighton 
 Pavilion is the reverse, and in theory a perfectly legitimate act of design 
 on the peculiar ground which it occupies. Shall we say, then, that 
 the reproduction of the highest order of antique Classic art in such a: 
 temple as the Paris Madeleine is not equally legitimate ? Our great 
 porticoes and peristyles also, when thoroughly well handled and appro- 
 priately placed, would it not be preposterous to call anything else than 
 the noblest art ? 
 
 Architectural history moves slowly, and nothing can be more obvious 
 than the fact that imitation and copying within certain limits must be 
 found in the very essence of its development. Not only so, but 
 Architecture is a single art of and belonging to the whole world, not 
 
 D 2
 
 36 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITFX'TURE. 
 
 ten or twenty different arts for so many different localities. We have 
 one humanity : one hnildino- science ; one building art. Whoever and 
 wherever you may be, all that can he done is to take a step forward. 
 And thus it is, in these modern times of ours, we are so closely 
 identified with a contemplation of the past universally and intimately, 
 the broadest and the deepest that can be achieved, that we come 
 to be not only philosophically entitled, but unconsciously compelled, to 
 imitate and copy whatever we find to suit our purpose best. Human 
 intelligence, like the rest, naturaUy chooses the line of least resistance. 
 For miscellaneous modern Em-opean buildings, therefore, may it not be 
 said to be obvious that the most appropriate style, and the natural style 
 of development, was, and still is, that which the Eomans had so long 
 been steadily developing for the same purposes as ours, and on the same 
 ground, till Gothic conquest and the Gothic form of Christianity 
 interrupted its progress, and estal)lished for a time, for a different world, 
 a different mode ? So also, for the I'ccently resuscitated ecclesiasticism 
 of England, may we not say that the only proper style of building must 
 be that of the old ecclesiasticism, which was the basis and root of the 
 new ? Why should the French be reproached for building the beautiful 
 Madeleine, or the English for covering the land with charming Gothic 
 churches, or the gentlemen of Pall Mall for going to the Kome and 
 Venice of not so very long ago to get models for their club-houses ? 
 In each case what was done was, in the circumstances, certainly one of 
 the right things to do, and one of. the best ; an act of " natural 
 selection " of surely the simplest, the most convenient, and the least 
 arbitrary kind. Suffice it to say as a last word that the ancient Romans, 
 the cinquecentist Italians, and the modern Europeans, obviously form in 
 architectural history one continuous dynasty. And in like manner the 
 general artistic Mediasval church and the locally revived artistic 
 English church are directly mother and daughter ; the ardour and 
 poetic skilfulness with which our Victorian Gothicists have followed up, 
 under many disadvantages, the work of their ancestors in art, being one 
 of the most creditable chapters in the whole world-story of building. 
 Doctrine like this, however, it must be remembered, is not the same as 
 the Eclecticism of the time before Pugin, when an accomplislied 
 architect was simply a designer of anything that was wanted in any old 
 style that was dictated, with reason or without. It may not be easy, 
 perhaps, for the student to see at once that all styles are ex(;luded here 
 — for English ground — except the genuine modernised Classic and tlie 
 genuine modernised Mediaeval (with our own domestic Elizabethan as a 
 local connecting link) ; but let him think the matter out. — Ed.] 
 
 [The Experimental Continuity of Historical Architec- 
 Ti'RE :~The very natural idea that Architecture is an art of various 
 styles, which have been produced and practised in various countries, and 
 that some of these are good and some bad, some beyond improvement
 
 INTIIODUCTION : FORMS OF ART. 37 
 
 and some beneath criticism, ought to be accepted with an important 
 (luaHfication ; and it will be seen on a moment's reflection that, in onr 
 own day especially, when the architectural community as a whole 
 distinctly maintains its right to appropriate various old modes of design 
 at pleasure as may l)e found practically advisable, some such qualification 
 will probably l)e of special importance. In a word, the principle at 
 once suggests itself that, inasmuch as the history of building is con- 
 current with that of the human race, and the history of the race, not- 
 withstanding the diversity of nations and eras, a single history in which 
 one generation is the successoi' of another in respect of all its acipiisitions, 
 so also the history of all building, and therefore of all Architecture as 
 the fine-art of building, must possess a corresponding unity and con- 
 tinuity, in spite of such varieties as are due to time and place. Nor is 
 this an abstract proposition only. The intelligent student may not 
 merely find himself largely aided in his endeavours to appreciate the 
 ])eculiarities of modern taste, for good or ill, by identifying its beginnings 
 directly with the ending of the old Roman on the one hand, and of the 
 Medi clival on the other ; he may also not merely follow backwards in 
 like manner the Medituval to the Roman, and the Roman to the Greek, 
 and trace the origin of the Greek in the antecedent Egyptian and 
 Assyrian ; thus far the ground has been well trodden ; but he may 
 still more profitably pursue similar inquiries along the narrower lines of 
 collateral progression, and, if sufficiently fortunate, may be able to 
 account for every feature in every style on the same logical ground, not 
 of imitation, still less of counterfeit, but ahvays of natural development. 
 Even where the intercourse of mankind was weakest, it was still strong 
 enough to do its work, and only took a longer time to accomplish it. 
 The " ages '' of our history are not the successive centuries of duration, but 
 the successive eras of development, some longer, some shorter : and the 
 development as a whole is one human career, in w^hich the nations have 
 been all working to one end — one stream with many tributaries, albeit 
 that many of these trilmtaries are in themselves famous streams. In 
 the arts is not this particularly evident ? One result of such a train 
 of reflection must be this : that we shall be the better able to consider 
 and discuss all modes, great and small, meritorious or not, academically 
 recognised or not, with that judicial calmness and patience which so 
 materially promote a correct judgment, and without that impulsive haste 
 and heat which go so far to Y)revent it. Thus it will become more and 
 more manifest that, from the beginning of civilisation to the present age, 
 we — the whole craft of us as architects, from the very earliest of unknown 
 names and times and places — everywhere have been constantly and 
 continuously trying experiments, frequently failing, but sometimes 
 succeeding, and always making such way as we might. Moreover, this 
 will help the student to judge for himself all the better when violent 
 contrasts of generahsation are presented for his acceptance. Such, for 
 
 21350?
 
 38 HISTOKY OF MODERN AKCHITECTURE. 
 
 eXcunplL', is the coutrast between Pagau and Cliristian— a formula of 
 ])rejudice intended to supplant one still more contemptuous in the other 
 direction, namely, that between Classic and Gothic. The question of 
 National versus Exotic, again, will lose much of its force. So also will 
 that of Living- Ait versus Dead Art. In fact it may be almost said that 
 the snl)di vision of architectural history, when thoroughly studied, must 
 c\eiitually turn upon little else than the points of the cosmo})olitan com- 
 pass and the eras of cosmopolitan time. At any rate, even ahvady 
 we may fairly remind ourselves that in architectural practice, most 
 notal)ly, we are the heire of the tentative work of all the ages, and are 
 bound to form an unaffected and generous estimate of such an inheritance, 
 in order to be enabled all the more etisily to transmit it to another 
 generation, certainly unimpaired, and probably augmeuted. This, be it 
 observed, is not the " eclecticism " of the general practitioner of forty 
 years ago, but rather the " Catholicism " which Professor Cockerell was 
 l»rcaching at the same time, altliough but little undeMood. "Tlie 
 Battle of the Styles " demolished the shoi)kceping eclecticism : [lerlnqts 
 the critical catholicity is only rising from its ruins now. — Ed.] 
 
 VI. — EXAAIl'LES. 
 
 In order to make as clear as possible the stei>s by wiiicli this 
 downward chauge was effected, it may be well, l)efore atLemi>ting to 
 describe i)articular styles in detail, to examine one or two typical 
 examples as illustrations of the cliauge. 
 
 The first here chosen for this jmrpose is a house in the (iriefs- 
 wald (AVoodcut No. 4), which is pm'ely Gothic in design and detail, 
 and a rich and pleasing example of its class. The base is sohd and 
 well-})ro])ortioned, all the upper parts are of gowl design, and the 
 arrangements of the buttresses and the ornaments Ix-tween them 
 elegant and ap})ropriate, if looked at from a purely Gothic point of 
 view. Had it been the gable-end of one of the churches of that 
 neighbourhood, or of some great civic hall, no fault could be found 
 with it ; but as it is the uiijier part of a house, and divided into 
 five storeys, the verticality which is so ay)}»roi)riate in a church 
 becomes unmeaning in a dwelling. The floors are not marked, 
 and you are left in suspense whether the ujtper part is one great 
 "solder" or loft, or is really divided by floors between each of the 
 ranges of windows. 
 
 This was felt to be a defect by the architects of the day, and the 
 consequence was, that, so soon as Domestic Architecture began to eman- 
 cipate itself from the trammels of the ecclesiastical arrangements, and 
 to assert its own importance, we find the string courses marking 
 strongly and appropriately the floors into which the house was divided. 
 In the next example, of a house in Brunswick (Woodcut No. ;".), we find
 
 INTRODUCTION : EXAMPLES. 
 
 39 
 
 this feeling strongly developed, and with very pleasing effect. The 
 design is also interesting, as showing how readily the Classical details 
 lent themselves for the nonce to the new exigencies of design. The 
 (iotliic architects may with jnstice pride tliemselves on the heauty of 
 their clustered piers or traceried windows, the appropriateness for 
 church purposes of their pointed arches, and the aspiring character of 
 their pinnacles and spires ; but they never invented, as they never 
 wanted, a class of buildings in which the horizontal lines prevailed 
 to a greater extent than the vertical. On the other hand, it is just 
 
 4. House ill the Griefswalil. From Rosengarten, Arch. Stylarteu. 
 
 on this point that Classical Architecture is strongest. Nothing has 
 ever yet been done equal in combined richness and grace to the 
 Corinthian entablature, or in strength or appropriateness to that of 
 the Doric and plainer orders. It is no wonder, therefore, that details so 
 perfectly appropriate were seized on with avidity by the architects of 
 that day, which happened also to be just the time when the taste for 
 Classical Literature was reviving, and men were eagerly affecting 
 whatever reminded them of Rome and its greatness. 
 
 Having adapted the cornices to mark their floors, it was hardly 
 possible they could avoid introducing the Classical pillars which formed
 
 40 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 a part of the order. This Avas done timidly at lii-st, and as mere 
 ornaments, and, had the imitation remained there, no iireat harm 
 would have been done ; but it was a step in the wrong direction : it 
 was employing ornament for mere ornament's sake, without reference 
 to construction or the actual purpose of the building ; and, once it was 
 admitted that any class of ornament could be employed other than 
 ornamented construction, or which had any other aim than to express 
 — while it beautified — the prosaic exigencies of the design, there was 
 
 ^- House ill Uiiiu!<\vick. From lioseugarttii. 
 
 an end of all that is trathful or that can lead to perfection in Archi- 
 tectural Art. 
 
 It was a long time, however, before this became apparent, and most 
 of the early Italian buildings of the fifteenth century are more beauti- 
 ful than those which preceded them. Even so late as the middle of 
 the sixteenth century we find sucli a design as this of the Grimani 
 Palace at Venice (Woodcut No. G), wliich embraces all the elegauce of 
 Classical Art with the most perfect ai)propriateness to the purposes of
 
 INTRODUCTION : EXAMPLES. 
 
 41 
 
 a modern palace. Even the introdnction of a mezzanine on the gronnd 
 floor is so cleverly manag-ed as not to be offensive, and tlie projection 
 given to the npper cornice, in excess of that used in the lower orders, 
 l)rings the whole into harmony. The most enthusiastic advocate of 
 Gothic Architecture may he induced to admit that there is nothing of a 
 palatial character, out of Venice, erected either in Italy or on this side 
 of the Alps, so beautiful as the fa^uides of this and the Vandramini, tiie 
 Cornaro, and other palaces of this city. The only buildings that can 
 fairly be compared with them are such as the Casa d'Oro, the Foscai'i, 
 and others of their class in Venice itself. It may l)e argued that these 
 
 Grimani Palace. From Cicognara.' 
 
 last are more picturesque and richer in detail ; l)Ut they certainly have 
 neither the solidity nor the simple elegance of the more modern ex- 
 amples. Be this as it may, it was probably only in such examples that 
 the Classical orders could be applied with appropriateness. It required 
 a climate so warm as to admit of very large openings, and a street 
 facade, all the storeys of whicli could be apphed to state and festival 
 purposes ; all the sleeping accommodation and offices being relegated to 
 l)ack courts and alleys. Hence the great difficulty, as we shall after- 
 wards see, of applying the "orders" to English country houses, all four 
 
 Faljbrichc piii cuspiciie di VLUtzia. Fol. 1815-20.
 
 42 ■ HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 sides of which cau be seen ; aud where the upper storey was never, as 
 in some Itahan town-houses, as important and as dignified as the other 
 two. 
 
 These requisites, however, were rarely found, and the consequence 
 was, that the style soon passed into the next and worst stage of its 
 existence. This is well illustrated by the annexed elevation of a palace 
 at Yicenza, by the celebrated Palladio (AVoodcut Xo. 7), which, though 
 a fair specimen of the master, contains nearly all the faults inherent in 
 the style. The principal order, running through the two principal 
 storeys, and being composed merely of pilasters, loses all meaning and 
 appropriateness. The entablature wdiich these support is too important 
 for a string course, and, having another storey over it, does not mark 
 the roof ; which is the only real meaning a cornice ever can have wlien 
 not employed as mere ornament. The angles, instead of being strength - 
 
 "i. \';Umariua Palaw, Viceuzi. From I'alkdio, I quittro Libri dell' Architettiira. 
 
 ened, cither by being brought forward or rusticated, are weakened by 
 having two more storeys of windows inserted, and, instead of repeating 
 one of the pilasters which encumber the centre, we have only a detached 
 statue to support the great cornice — thus adding absurdity to weakness. 
 We find, in short, in this design, ornamentation entirely divorced from 
 construction. Not only is there an attempt to make the palace look 
 like a building of a long previous age, but to make it appear as if it 
 were one great hall, instead of a five-storeyed building, which every one 
 sees that it is. In spite of the beauty aud graudeur of the order 
 employed, and in spite of all the elegance for which PaUadio is so justly 
 celebrated, we cannot but feel that Art had reached a form entirely 
 different from that employed anywhere else, and Avas conducted on 
 principles diametrically at variance with those which guided the archi- 
 tect who designed the Iniildings of either Classical or ]\Iedia.'val times, 
 or indeed of any true styles of Architecture.
 
 INTRODUCTION : EXAMPLES. 43 
 
 The same defects of design preA'ail, to a greater or less extent, in 
 every building erected from Palladio's time to our own day. In spite 
 of all the grandeur of many of the palaces and churches l)uilt during 
 that period, and in spite of all the beauty and elegance of the style 
 employed, there is a falsehood and a striving at false effect running 
 through the whole that always leaves an unpleasant impression on the 
 mind of the spectator, and neutralises, to a great extent, beauties (»f 
 design and detail which it would otherwise afford the highest gratifica- 
 tion to contemplate. 
 
 The fact that since the revival of ancient learning all architects 
 have been composing in a dead language is another point so important 
 that it cannot be too strongly insisted on here. It not only has been 
 the guiding principle of every design, but is the foundation of every 
 criticism we utter. Nearly the same thing occurred in verbal literature 
 in the first enthusiasm of the revival. No scientific treatise was con- 
 sidered worthy of the attention of the learned, unless clothed in the 
 dignity of a Classic garl) : and even such men as Milton and Gray Avere 
 prouder of their Latin ^xjiimata than of their immortal productions in 
 the vernacular tongue. 
 
 The first effect of this state of things is, that the practice of the art 
 is confined to a limited and especially educated class of architects ; and 
 what is far more disastrous is, that their productions are appreciated 
 only by the small class of scholars or archaeologists who are really as 
 learned, though probably not so practical, as themselves. 
 
 The learned in Art, for instance, go into ecstasies on observing the 
 ])urity of style and correctness of composition which pervade every part 
 of St. George's Hall, Liverpool, It recalls every association we ever 
 felt in contemplating Classical Art, and reproduces all we ever dreamt 
 of as great or good in the best age of that school. But common people 
 do not feel this. They would not feel offended if the pillars were one 
 diameter more or less in height, if the proportions of the entablature 
 were altered, and even if the cornice were half or twice its proper 
 projection. The absence of windows does not strike them as a beauty ; 
 on the contrary, they think that it gives a gloomy and prison-like 
 aspect ; and, in spite of all our preacliing, they feel that a far more 
 convenient and suitable building might have been got for half the 
 expense. What an uneducated man would appreciate and admire would 
 be elegance combined with common sense, while the only things that 
 offend an educated man would be faults which are equivalent to false 
 (luautities and errors of grammar. If we were to apply to literature the 
 same canons of criticism which we use in speaking of architectural 
 designs, a Porson or a Bentley would be a far greater man than a 
 Shakespeare or a Milton. The highly educated i)i'ide themselves on 
 their learning, while the less educated classes prefer the works of a
 
 44 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 New Cathedral at Boulogne. From a Photograph. 
 
 Bums or a Walter Scott to the most finished productions of the most 
 learned pedants. 
 
 If an architect should err a hand's breadth in the proper relative 
 proportion between the diameter and the height of a Doric column, all 
 the educated world cry shame on him ; and if he should venture to alter 
 the distribution of the triglyphs, or attempt an interference with the 
 mutules, he would be condemned for ever by professional critics. But 
 if he applied the portico of the Parthenon one day to a County Jail, and 
 the next attached the same feature to a Protestant House of Prayer or 
 to a Panorama, the learned few would see no harm, provided the 
 proportions were correct : but we ought not to be surprised if the 
 unlearned million should shake their heads in astonishment, and feel no 
 great interest in the mysterious craft. 
 
 As, however, in tliis country at least, there are so many educated 
 men, and as these only are allowed to ha\e or to express any opinion on
 
 INTRODUCTION : EXAMPLES. 45 
 
 tlie matter, it is extremely difficult to get this o-reat fact pruperly 
 appreciated ; and indeed it is difficult to find properly illustrative 
 examples at home ; but abroad they crop up occasionally in a manner 
 that shows clearly the true state of the case. 
 
 If any one, in passing- through Boulogne, will climb up to the 
 " Haute Ville," he will see there a new Cathedral Church (Woodcut 
 No. H), erected within the last thirty years. It owes its existence almost 
 wholly to the energy and devotion of one man, the late Monsignore 
 Haffreingue, who was, however, only a simple Abbe, when, in 1X27, he 
 conceived the idea of rebuilding the cathedral of his native city, destroyed 
 at the Revolution ; and with success such as has seldom crowned a 
 similar attempt since the Middle Ages, he lived to see his great work 
 nearly completed. Its dimensions are considerable, being 330 feet long 
 by 112 broad. It is surmounted by a dome G8 feet in diameter 
 internally, and rising to a height of nearly 300 feet to the top of the 
 cross externally. Its proportions are good, and the lighting is pleasing 
 and effectively introduced. The whole is of stone, of an agreeable 
 colour, and the construction is truthful throughout. Yet, notwith- 
 standing all this, the church, to an educated man, is simply liorril)le. 
 On entering he finds some pillars painfully attenuated, others stumpy 
 beyond true Classical proportions ; he sees entablatures put where they 
 liave no business to be, and omitted where their presence, according to 
 his rules, is indispensable. The building is, in fact, full of false quan- 
 tities and errors of grammar, and he is shocked beyond expression at the 
 ignorance it displays in every part. But the inhabitants of Boulogne 
 do not see this. To them it is a more beautiful building than the 
 Walhalla or the Madeleine, because it has the form of a Christian church, 
 which they understand, and because its parts answer the constructive 
 purpose for which they were designed. All this they can see with their 
 own eyes, while they are profoundly ignorant of how these details were 
 used by the Greeks or Romans. 
 
 The new parish church of the little agricultural village of Mousta, 
 in the island of Malta, is perhaps even a more remarkable instance of 
 a building erected in the same manner, and according to the exact 
 ])rinciples, which covered Europe with beautiful edifices during the 
 Middle Ages, though the actual result (like that at Boulogne) and the 
 style are as different from those of a Mediaeval building as well can be. 
 
 It seems that about the year 1812 the villagers first conceived the 
 idea of enlarging their church, and were warmly seconded in the idea by 
 their pastor, the Rev. Felice Calleja. The cholera, and various local 
 misfortunes, again and again diverted the funds that had been collected 
 for this purpose, so that nothing had been, done at Calleja's death, in 
 1833, beyond collecting a fund of little more than 3000/. for the purpose 
 of rebuilding the church. His successor, Giovanni 8cheml)ri, was 
 equally zealous, and, with the assistance of a grant of about 500/. a-year
 
 46 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ior ten years tV(;)ni tlie funds of tlic tliocese, and the £,n-atuitons hhonv of 
 the villag-ers and othei's, tlie work was so far completed that, in February, 
 LSOO, the parish priest was enal)led to announce from the altar that it 
 was time to pull down the old church. Before the following Sunday 
 not one stone of it remained, and high mass was celebrated for the first 
 time at the altar of the new church. ^ 
 
 The leading idea of the design was that the church should be a copy 
 of the Pantheon at Rome, and was adopted principally because it could 
 be built around and over the old church without interfering with it, in 
 order that the villagers might worship in the church of their forefathers 
 till tlieir new edifice was ready for consecration ; — all which was done. 
 
 Altliough the merit of the original suggestion of the design is due to 
 a local architect of the name of Grognet, the real architect of the 
 
 building was the village mason — 
 »awMiyiy y|rf t< fc ii O Angelo Gatt. Like a master-mason 
 
 F^**-^"^ ^^'^ - W in the Middle Ages, or those men 
 
 who build the most exquisite temples 
 
 or toml)s in India at the present day, 
 
 ^ t^i, - - ^^^ ^'^^^ neither read, nor write, nor 
 
 ^» X ^\ ^k draAv ; but, following his own con- 
 
 ^Hi^ X^^k structive instincts and the dictates of 
 
 B^l \^tL common sense, he has successfully 
 
 [p I M carried out every part of this building. 
 
 HM\ hj^M ^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^^^ insisted on erecting 
 
 l^Br\ /wB* ^^"^ dome without scaffolding, and 
 
 ^p^ ^ \^ ^ J^ showed how it could be done by 
 
 simply notching each course on to the 
 one below it. With true mediaeval 
 enthusiasm, this extraordinary man 
 was content to devote his whole time 
 to the erection of this great edifice, 
 receiving only fifteen pence a day for 
 twenty years. He now receives two shiUings, at which he is content to 
 superintend its completion. In every respect, in fact, the building is 
 Medieval, except one. Instead of Gatt and his brother masons working 
 in a style which they understood, or which grew naturally out of the forms 
 they were using, in all the ornamental details of their work they were 
 following drawings selected from books by Grognet or some one else : 
 but, as neither he nor they were well versed in the language of their choice, 
 there are faults of grammar and false cpiantities apparent e\-cry\vhere in 
 the building. The villagers, fortunately, are too ignorant to perceive 
 this, and are naturally proud, as they ought to be, of their church and 
 
 rUm of Church at Mousta. 
 Scale 100 feet to 1 iuch. 
 
 ' The whole expense was about 21,000/ , besides uratuitoiis labour estimated at 
 h;dr that amount.
 
 INTRODUCTION: EXAMPLES. 
 
 47 
 
 tlieir master-niasoii. It is sad, however, that a building so noble in 
 dimensions and design^ slionld be marred by an attempt to introdnce a 
 style of ornamentation which none of the villagers understood, and that 
 the dome, which in size ranks third among the Christian domes of 
 Europe, should fail in producing the effect it is entitled to, simply 
 because we have no style but what we borrow from the dead. 
 
 Had the designers of this building only got a learned architect to 
 look over their design, and to correct the details, it would have been 
 one of the most beautiful, as it is one of the most remarkable, churches 
 in Europe. It pleases those who worship in it quite as much, or 
 
 10. Section of Cliurcli at Mousta. From the Origiual Drawings. 
 
 perhaps more, than if its details had been purely Classical ; but it is 
 so distasteful to the educated man, that he turns from it more with a 
 feeling of disgust than with anything like the pleasure its dimensions 
 and form ought to produce. 
 
 There is still a third example in the cathedral at Gran, now 
 erecting from the designs and at the expense of the Priniate of 
 Hungary. Its dimensions are those of a first-rate cathedral, and its 
 general form is pleasing enough ; but the mode in which its entab- 
 
 ' It will be sctn from the section 
 (Woodcut No. 10) tliattlic dome is liiglitr 
 infoinnlly than tliat of tiie Pantheon at 
 
 Rome, but about 20 feet less in diameter. 
 It, however, exceeds in diameter that of 
 St. I'aul'ti, London, by IG feet.
 
 48 
 
 HISTOKY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 latiire is cut hIxmiL and bent over windows, and tlie details of its 
 campaniles, are painful in the extreme ; and, worse than this, tlie 
 drum of its douie is surrounded by thirty-ei^'lit columns, attenuated 
 to such au extent as would justify a spire of almost (xothic form ; but 
 instead of this, they are surmounted by a dome of lower section th;ui 
 that of the Pautheou at Rome ; and indeed throuu'hout the l)uildin,u' 
 there are the same defects of detail which are observal)le in the two 
 last-nauied examples. 
 
 All this is not so ol)viou^ in Gothic as in Classic revivals, for the 
 
 11. View of Church at Mousta. From a Photograph. 
 
 simjtle reason that it is easier for au Eughshuiau to express himself in 
 Old -English or even Anglo-Saxon — if he chooses to get it up — than 
 in dead or foreign languages. We admire the purity of style and 
 correctness of detail in recent Gothic churches, or in the Parliament 
 Houses, just as we might admire them in St. George's Hall or the 
 P>erlin Museum ; and we feel convinced that, if Sir Charles Barry or 
 any other of our Gothic architects had been asked for a report on an 
 estate, he could have given it in the exact character and with the 
 same terms as one finds in Domesday Book, or, if desired, in the Early
 
 INTRODUCTION: EXAMPLES. 49 
 
 English forms and expressions of the old Exchequer Rolls. Most 
 people would prefer a more modern style of ^mtini;- or diction ; but 
 an archaeologist would go into ecstacies if the imitation were perfect. 
 This is, in fact, all we aim at and all we attain in the Arcliitectural 
 Art of the present day. We intrust its exercise to a specially educated 
 class, most learned in the details of the style they are called upon to 
 work in, and they produce buildings which delight the scholars and 
 archaeologists of the day, but which the less educated classes can 
 neither understand nor appreciate, and which will lose their signifi- 
 cance the moment the fashion which j^roduced them has passed away. 
 
 The difference between this artificial state of things and the 
 practice of a true style will not now be difficult to understand. When, 
 for instance, Gothic was a living art in England, men expressed them- 
 selves in it as easily as in any other part of the vernacular. What- 
 ever was done was a part of the usual, ordinary, everyday life, and 
 men had no more difficulty in understanding Avhat others were doing 
 than in comprehending what they were saying. A mason did not 
 require to be a learned man to chisel what he had carved ever since 
 he was a boy, and what alone he had seen being done during his 
 lifetime ; and he adopted new forms just in the same manner and as 
 naturally as men adopt new modes of expression in language, as they 
 happen to be introduced, without even remarking it. At that time, 
 any educated man could design in Gothic Art, just as any man who 
 can I'ead and write can now compose and give utterance to any jjoetry 
 or prose that may be in him. 
 
 Where Art is a true art, it is as naturally practised, and as easily 
 understood, as a vernacular literature ; of which, indeed, it is an essen- 
 tial and most expressive part : and so it was in Greece and Rome, and 
 so, too, in the Middle Ages. But with us it is little more than a dead 
 corpse, galvanised into spasmodic life by a few selected practitioners, 
 for the amusement and dehght of a small section of the specially 
 educated classes. It expresses truthfully neither our wants nor our 
 feelings, and we ought not, therefore, to be surprised how very unsatis- 
 factory every modern building really is, even when executed by the 
 most talented architects, as compared with the productions of any 
 village mason or parish priest at an age when men sought only to 
 express clearly what they felt strongly, and sought to do it only in 
 their own natural mother-tongue, untrammelled by the fetters of a dead 
 or unfamiUar foreign form of speech. 
 
 [Living Aechitecture and Lifeless : — The question raised by 
 this contrast of terms for the most serious consideration of the modern 
 architectural student, whether young or not, must not be supposed to be 
 one that he M'ill understand at a glance ; and it is doubtful ^^•hether the 
 amateur can understand it at all. It is very easy to talk of all modem 
 work being lifeless, inanimate, soulless, spiritless, and so on ; and of 
 
 VOL. L E
 
 50 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 ancient work being always instinct with vitality, reality, and natural 
 principle. The life of an architectural composition lies deep within it ; 
 it is not easily introduced when it has been forgotten in the mixing, 
 nor is it easily eliminated when it has not. In the very firet place, it is 
 fundamentally a question of the construction ; and this is why the 
 amateur — who is never a constructor, but, at the best, a superficiator — 
 cannot aj^preciate it with any thoroughness. 
 
 Suppose we take the earhest important design of the " living " class 
 to be a Greek Doric peristylar temple— giving the go-by to the Egyptian 
 for obvious convenience of argument. The exercise in criticism w^iich 
 tliis example offers may not prove to be very readable ; but if the reader 
 will consent to think it out, it may be all the more useful in an age 
 when architectural sins are so many, and saints so few. Let this temple, 
 then, be presented for our criticism by means only of a perspective 
 drawing of the exterior, without the masonry jointing. The question 
 then is, how ought we to read its motive in the language of constniction ? 
 Let us try. Firet an oblong chamber, or cella, has been enclosed by a 
 stone wall, having a single opening for a dooi'way in the middle of one 
 end. Then aromid this cella a narrow level platfonn has been built, 
 with three steps all along the outward edge. On this platform, or 
 stylobate, stone columns have been set up at regular intervals, consti- 
 tuting a peristyle. Then from column to coliunn there has been laid a 
 level coui'se of stone lintels — the architrave ; and a second level course of 
 masonry has been placed on this — the frieze. A third and last level 
 course has then been added on all four sides, but projecting forward 
 considerably — the cornice. This projecting coui-se is evidently meant to 
 let the rainwater drip clear of the frieze, architrave, and colmims. A 
 span roof then rises from the side cornices of the peristyle to a longi- 
 tudinal central ridge ; and at each end a gable has been formed by two 
 sloping cornices rising from eaves to ridge, and enclosing a triangle over 
 the level cornice as a base, which triangle is filled in with stonework, 
 following the alignment of the architrave and frieze below ; all this 
 l;)ecoming a pediment. Then the roof has been fonued, no doubt, in 
 this way: heavy timbers rise from each side-cornice to the ridge at short 
 intervals, resting on the walls of the cella in passing ; and — unless an 
 opening for light should be left in the middle — the whole has been 
 covered with stone slabs, or large tiles ; this covering being stopped at 
 the ends against a thin additional course added above the sloping cornices 
 of the pediments. Such, then, would be the primary motive of design 
 which is suggested by the general forms of the edifice ; the rest is matter 
 of detail. But we next observe that the stonework is finished with 
 mouldings, and in ornamental design. The columns are circular on 
 plan, and diminish slightly upwards to the top, where a thin, squared 
 slab — the abacus — is interposed to form a bearing for the squared lintels ; 
 the top of the cylindrical shaft, swelling out — in an echinus — to form 
 
 I
 
 INTRODUCTION: EXAMPLES. 51 
 
 a bearing for tlie abacus. The architrave-course corresponds on the 
 soffit with the size of the shafts below ; and it is finished at the upper 
 line with a small projecting moulding. The frieze-course is ornamented 
 in a manner not very easily understood at first. Over each column there 
 is a slightly projecting tablet, of the full height of the frieze, and not 
 so wide as high ; the feature being again repeated in the middle of the 
 uiterspaces ; these projections are car^'ed with vertical grooves in such a 
 way as to be called triglyphs ; and the intervening spaces of the frieze — 
 metopes — are square in shape, or nearly so, forming panels. Then the 
 level cornice which runs along the sides or eaves, and also along the 
 ends as bases to the pediments, is shaped sectionally in a still more complex 
 way. A small crown moulding runs along the top line ; the soffit is 
 sloped upwards from front to back to constitute the drip ; and over each 
 of the triglyphs and metopes there is formed on the sloping soffit a sort 
 of thin tablet — mutules. Lastly, there are carved under each triglyph, 
 and on each of the soffit-tablets of the cornice, little buttons or drops — 
 guttae. The sloping cornices of the pediments are similarly moulded ; 
 and the thin additional top course is made a moulding also. Now the 
 elementary critical problem is contained in this simple question, upon 
 which aU our appreciation of the artistic merit of the design must turn : 
 "What, in the eye of the mason, will be the construction of all this 
 masonry ? Let us try to discern this also. The top course of the 
 stylobate is doubtless composed of large slabs, jointed mider the centres 
 of the shafts ;■ and the two under-courses will break joint to coiTCspond. 
 The columns are, of course, monoliths, and probably the capitals are 
 included. The architrave-Untels are soUd, and jointed over the centres 
 of the columns. The cornice, no doubt, is similarly jointed. But 
 what mean the triglyphs in the frieze ? They must be the ends of 
 transverse stone lintels, which are laid from the architrave-course to the 
 ceUa wall, carrying slabs over them, and so constituting a stone ceiling 
 for the ambulatory. The square metopes between the triglyphs are 
 then filled in, simply and very effectively, with sculptured panels. The 
 pediments also are filled in with sculpture equally simply and effectively. 
 But what mean the mutules and the guttse ? Constructively, they have 
 apparently no meaning at aU ; but may they not nevertheless be legitimately 
 decorative ? As we are fixing our attention upon the question of Living 
 Art as distinguished from Lifeless, it must be at once asked whether, 
 for instance, the guttfe are found, in fact, to facilitate the drip of water 
 from the cornice soffit and from the architrave moulding. Probably 
 no one would now seriously maintain such a notion ; and this admission 
 may serve to introduce the theory of " the primitive hut," a doctrine 
 which at one time used to be very much relied upon to explain the 
 features of the Greek Doric order — as the original of all the orders — by 
 referring them to a supposed pre-historic practice of timber construction. 
 To state this theory very briefly, the cella was a log but, the columns 
 
 E 2
 
 52 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 were cut from trunks of trees, the abacus was a bearing-slab, the archi- 
 tra^'e was of squared logs, the frieze was formed by the ends of 
 transverse beams with triglyphs cut naturally enough on the cross- 
 grain, the mutules with their sloping soffits were the overhanging 
 rafters, and the guttse were an ornamental suggestion of water-drops ; 
 the mouldings and the rest being matter of ornamental detail. Upon 
 the strength of all this it was argued — of course by those who had 
 previously embraced the modern practice of counterfeit — that the Greek 
 masonry was designed in mere imitation of such primitive timber-work. 
 But — although it cannot be denied that there is a great deal to be 
 said in favour of the general doctrine that the early mason, as matter 
 of unconscious inheritance, would accept the forms of the earlier 
 carpenter — this was such an obvious abandonment of the idea of Living 
 Art, that it is now perhaps much better, for the sake of critical science 
 as well as for the credit of the ancients, to let the primitive hut pass 
 altogether, and adhere to the reading of stone construction alone, as 
 above set forth. 
 
 If, then, we are still left to deal with the guttte as we best can, on 
 masonry principles, all we can say is that they are, like the mouldings 
 and the triglyphs, only decorative, and perhaps one of the very simplest 
 efforts of decorative-work. There seems to be no reason why we should 
 object to the association of ideas turning upon the water-drops ; but on 
 the other hand, if the guttas are taken to be only a stone fringe, and if the 
 severe censor of " shams " pronounces them to be a " lifeless " ornament, 
 this only raises a little sooner the question when and how the ornamental 
 element is to be allowed to introduce itself in purely conventional forms. 
 
 Here the Ionic capital becomes a notable instance in point. The 
 pseudo-academical idea that the volutes are derived from the great curls 
 of a certain style of feminine coiffure, is infinitely worse criticism than 
 the theory of the primitive hut. Perhajjs it is best to regard the whole 
 Ionic capital as a cushion-capital (although how to make it " Uving " in 
 masonry it is still as difiicult to see), derived as a pure conventionalism 
 from the ruder precedents of Assyria, just as, by the way, the Doric 
 itself is by many described to be a refinement on an Egyptian idea, 
 of which we have at least one example still extant. If, again, we take 
 the Corinthian capital, this has to be criticised on two fines ; namely, as 
 a development of the Egyptian foliated capitals, and as a contrivance 
 de novo. In the former case the feature seems to be perfectly justifiable 
 as an acceptable conventional inheritance, fairly adapted and exquisitely 
 improved upon ; in the other it is equally commendable— as also the 
 Egyi^tian design would be— not regarded as a basket laid by chance on an 
 acanthus root, but as a highly elaborated expansion of the sunnnit of a 
 stone colmnn, to meet the form of the abacus by means of angular 
 volutes supported by foliation at discretion. Upon this Corinthian 
 capital, it may be remarked, the Romans, legitimately desiring to improve
 
 INTRODUCTION : EXAMPLES. 53 
 
 the proportions of the ornamentatiou, engrafted, quite unnecessarily 
 perhaps, but certainly with success superficially, the idea of the Ionic 
 cushion in their Composite order. If we say they spoilt the Corinthian 
 critically, perhaps we might add that if they had rather modified the Greek 
 Ionic itself in the direction of the Corinthian volute, the result might have 
 been much more satisfactory in their hands. But there is one general 
 observation in connection with these academical examples which ought 
 to be made ; it is not correct to say that the original antiques are living, 
 and the modern reproductions lifeless. If a modern Classic colonnade 
 follows the antique literally — " slavishly " is not a respectable term — this 
 is a legitimate use of a much admired inheritance. The ancients, we 
 may then be told, always varied their reproductions, and why should 
 not we ? The answer is that the Cinquecentists did so. The French 
 also have been perhaps still more successful in so doing. 
 
 This subject of Living Art versus Lifeless is, however, far too large, 
 and indeed too recondite, for intimate investigation in these notes ; the 
 reader may be asked to take what is above suggested as an example of 
 one mode of illustration, but he must think the matter out for himself. 
 The stractural test — or ordeal of the structuresque — is much more easily 
 appUed, of course, to a modern building, than to the now conventional 
 features of ancient detail, such as are above dealt with ; and the 
 conclusions are much more palpable. But how to re-design any typical 
 English subject of the day in a lifelike spirit structurally, without 
 reverting to first principles in a way that is impracticable in actual 
 work, is the serious question after aU. The case of Gothic churches is 
 scarcely in point ; they are more easily made structuresque, because their 
 forms of structure are comparatively simple, especially internally. But 
 take a theatre, a fashionable residence, or any of our ordinary municipal 
 or commercial buildings of high class, and where would the architect begin 
 or end .^ Take the notable case of Street's design of the Law Courts, so 
 " lifeUke " under sentimental tests on paper, and so entirely dead and buried 
 when judged by the practical ordeal of the coming and going of busy 
 unsentimental people Hke la\vyers in the actual edifice. At the same 
 time true philosophy will affirm dogmatically, and will scarcely wait for 
 an answer, first, that to speak of this nineteenth century generally as a 
 lifeless or spiritless age, is so wholly absurd as to be almost an utterance 
 of imbecility ; and secondly, and for that very reason, that to suppose 
 there is not with us a current principle of the lifelike, which is to be 
 clearly discovered and fairly applied, is equally absurd. Our iniquities, 
 no doubt, are many, but the probability is that the mature verdict of 
 posterity will not be so severe upon us as the hasty condemnation of 
 some of ourselves. To carry enthusiasm too far is a very common 
 mistake, and a very easy amusement ; and it is time that our youth 
 should be invited to employ their critical powers a good deal more upon 
 the discovery of what is good in the idiosyncrasy of their own generation.
 
 ^i HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 and a little less in the more fascinating sport of persuading themselves 
 to beheve in the necessary superiority of the past. — Ed.] 
 
 VII. — Ethnogeaphy. 
 
 It is not difficult to understand that when an art forsakes the real 
 and natural path of development and foUows only a conventional 
 fashion, it must lose all ethnographic value, and that those circum- 
 stances which not only give such scientific value to the true styles of 
 Art, but lend such an interest to their history, are almost entirely 
 lost in speaking of the architectural styles of the Renaissance. It is 
 this, indeed, which has done so much harm to the history of this art, 
 and prevented it from taking its proper place as a branch of scientific 
 research. A man who sees an Egyptian obelisk being erected in front 
 of a Grecian portico in Portland cement, alongside of a new Norman 
 parish church, to which they are attaching a schooh'oom in Middle- 
 Pointed Italian, and the whole surrounded by Chinese and Saracenic 
 shop-fronts, is certainly justified in doubting Avhether there is really 
 such a thing as the Ethnography of Architectural Art. It is necessary 
 that he should have looked beyond the times of the Refonnation, that 
 he should be famihar with those styles which preceded it in Europe, or 
 with those which are now practised in remote out-of-the-way corners 
 of the world, before he can shake off the influence of this false school 
 of teaching. Unfortunately it is only a few who have cither the 
 oi:)portmnty or the inclination to carry this through to its legitimate 
 conclusion ; hence the difficulty not only of restoring the art to the 
 dignity of a science, but, more than this, the impossibility of making 
 it a living and real form of artistic utterance. 
 
 If there is any Ethnography in modern Art it is this, — that during 
 the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the Teutonic and more purely 
 Aryan races assumed in Europe an importance and achieved a position 
 which they had not before attained to. By that time the old artistic 
 Turanian blood had either died out or been absorbed, and even the 
 more imaginative Celtic races had lost that predominance wliich they 
 had hitherto possessed ; for from that hour the Celtic blood has been 
 gradually becoming more and more mixed, or less and less prevailing. 
 
 The result of this may be a prevalence of mere matter-of-fact, 
 common-sense ideas, better government, and more reasonable proceed- 
 ings in all the arrangements of life ; but, unfortunately, at the 
 expense of all that poetry, all that real love of art, which adorns a 
 more imaginative state of society. It is a fact that, wherever 
 Teutonic or, as we call it, Anglo-Saxon influence has extended, 
 freedom and wealth and aU the accompanying well-being have 
 followed in its train, but unadorned with those softer graces or 
 poetic imaginings which it is sad to think have never yet co-existed 
 with sober common sense.
 
 INTRODUCTION : ETHNOGRAPHY. 55 
 
 Although therefore we must abaudon, to a very cousiderable extent 
 at least, all idea of tracing the ethnographic relation of nations by 
 means of their Art in modern times, and though the study of modern 
 Architecture consequently loses much of its value, still, on looking 
 below the surface, we detect the existence of another class of pheno- 
 mena almost as interesting to the philosophical student. This is the 
 exhibition of the wonderful and enduring influence which education 
 can exercise, not only on individuals, but on nations. 
 
 In the whole history of the world there is perhaps no such extra- 
 ordinary instance of what education can do, as that of the state of 
 Architecture since the beginning of the sixteenth century. At that 
 time men forsook the principles on which this and all other cognate 
 arts had been practised from the beginning of time ; they forsook 
 common sense and common prudence, not in the hope of attaining 
 greater convenience or greater effect, more easily, or with less means, 
 but in order to reproduce certain associations with which education 
 had made them familiar. At one time it is Republican Greece, at 
 another Imi^erial Eome, now it is the barbarous Middle Ages, none of 
 which we have any immediate affinity for or relation with, but for 
 which we are willing to sacrifice convenience and economy, and to 
 si)end absurd sums of money in reproducing what we know will be 
 contemptible before it is half a century old, and what we feel is most 
 inconvenient at the present hour. 
 
 As remarked above, something Kke this took place in Hterature a 
 century ago, and, though we may now regret we do not blame it, 
 because literature is a luxury. But Architecture is a necessary art. 
 We can exist without poetry ; we cannot Hve without houses and 
 public buildings. What makes it more remarkable is that, while 
 education has so far loosed her hold on literature that we now write 
 poems and tell tales after our own fashion, and to please ourselves, 
 without thinking of Classical or Mediseval models, we should still 
 decorate buildings for no other purpose than to conjure up associa- 
 tions with which we have no relations except those derived through 
 education. 
 
 VIII. — Conclusion. 
 
 The foregoing remarks will, it is hoped, be sufficient to show that 
 the styles to be described in the following pages differ, not only in 
 form, but more essentially in principle, from those which have hitherto 
 occupied om* attention, and that new principles of criticism and new 
 laws of taste must be adopted in attempting to estimate their respec- 
 tive merits. 
 
 These, in fact, are so difficult that, whenever a question arises, most 
 men shelter themselves under the maxim, "i)e (///sfibi/!^ non est dis- 
 2nd((ndum : "" a maxim which can have no possible application when
 
 56 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 speaking of a true style of Art, but which comes painfully into play 
 when we are called upon to estimate the products of individual talent, 
 or to reprobate the indulgence of individual caprice. 
 
 When judged from their own point of view, we never can hesitate 
 for a moment in estimating the relative value of any production of the 
 Egyptian, the Classical, or Mediaeval schools ; their puiposes are seen 
 at a glance, and how far they succeeded or failed in attainmg what 
 they aimed at easily estimated : but when it is a question whether 
 Egyptian or Classic or Gothic designs are to be adopted for modern 
 EngUsh purposes, then indeed de gustihus est disjmtandum ; or when 
 we are called upon to appraise the relative merits of Wren or Inigo 
 Jones, of Chambers or of Adams, of Pugin or of Barry, or to deter- 
 mine whether ait has progressed or receded in the period that elapsed 
 between the two first and the two last-named architects, all is not 
 only perplexing and difficult, but most unsatisfactory in its result. 
 But even this is not aU. "We have got to deal with an art which 
 is not conducted on truthful or constructive principles, but on imita- 
 tive attempts to reproduce something which has no real affinity with 
 the building in hand ; with an architecture which occupies itself 
 almost exclusively with the meaner objects of domestic and civil 
 wants, instead of the more elevated aims of Templar or Ecclesiastical 
 buildings ; with a style of building where the interior and the internal 
 arrangements are almost everything, and the exterior, which is the 
 true place for architectural display, may be anything, and conse- 
 quently generally is a sham ; with an art whose utterances, whether 
 Classic or Gothic, are the products of the leisure of single minds, 
 not always of the highest class, instead of with an art which is 
 the result of the earnest thinking of thousands of minds, spread over 
 hundreds of years, and acting in unison with the national voice which 
 called it into existence ; we are describing an art which is essentially 
 Technic in ah its forms, but which is now conducted on principles 
 Avhich are only appUcable to the Phonetic arts — two classes as essen- 
 tiaUy distinct in their principles as any two arts can well be supposed to be. 
 All this is discouraging enough, but still it is our Art. It is that 
 which covers all Europe, and adorns every city of the world, with 
 its productions ; and it cannot therefore be uninteresting to us as a 
 psychological study, or as a manifestation of the mind of Europe during 
 the period of its greatest cultivation and highest excitement. It is 
 doubly interesting to try and master its meaning, and even to acquire a 
 knowledge of its defects, for it is only by so doing that we can hope to 
 avoid the errors of our forefathers ; and if it should be possible that 
 Architecture may again become a true and hving utterance of the human 
 mind, it is only by knowing what the art once was, what it now is, and 
 the process by which it sank to its present position, that this result can 
 possibly be attained. 
 
 I
 
 INTRODUCTION: CONCLUSION. 57 
 
 There are so few symptoms of more correct ideas on this subject 
 prevaihng in the pubHc mind, that any one may be considered as 
 foolishly sanguine who hopes that Architecture may again be restored to 
 the position of a truthful and real art ; but the object is so important 
 that it is childish to despair, and wicked not to do what can be done to 
 bring about an object in every respect so desirable. 
 
 [The Indefensible Counterfeit and its Overthrow : — Perhaps 
 the chief point of modern European architectural discredit is the wholly 
 indefensible sham-work properly so called. No doubt it had its origin, 
 in this particular form, in the acceptance of the principles of imitation 
 and copying, when the Cinquecentists reverted to the mode of the 
 Eomans. It eventually became, perhaps, most flagrantly and charac- 
 teristically rampant in England — the home of the free and the brave — - 
 until America intervened with its still more unrestrained Uberty and 
 moral courage. It manifested itself from the first in two principal 
 forms^disguised or comiterfeited construction, and imitated materials. 
 The materials we need not dwell upon ; when the plasterer is bidden to 
 produce in surface cement the features of structural masonry, or the 
 painter to make cast iron or putty ornament pass for oak carving, it is 
 enough for the most generous criticism — which, by the way, is always 
 the soundest — to say that the cement ought to have been differently 
 applied in some characteristic way of its own, and that the art of 
 imitating expensive materials ought to be kept within certain Hniits, 
 perhaps in the abstract not easily definable, although clearly existent in 
 the concrete. But when we contemplate the offence in the higher walks 
 of the art — perhaps the very highest — which is committed by our own 
 Wren, for example, in the dome of St. Paul's (compare the illustration 
 No. 175 with St. Peter's, No. 30), to say nothing of the dome of St. 
 Isaac's at St. Petersburg (No. 263) or the cast-iron dome-tower of the 
 Capitol at Washington (No. 287), then we see what the greater 
 architectural question of comiterfeit design is, as a thing w^hich is worthy 
 of the most earnest study on the part of the artistic aspirant. The 
 desire to make anything outside look like what it is not inside must be 
 radically bad art in the nature of things. That the surface, or skin, 
 should, as intimately as possible, concur, coincide, and correspond with 
 the subcutaneous muscle and bone, is only one form of this simple 
 proposition. Although the Cinquecentists, like the Eomans, would have 
 repudiated such a thing as a cast-iron colonnade permanently splashed 
 like granite, or an entablature constructed of hollow lath and plaster to 
 pass for stone (we may consent to ignore their occasional acts of marbling 
 in paint, as an indication of the hope that the authentic material would 
 be supplied in course of time), yet there Can be no doubt that the 
 best Itahans of the day must have had their feeling for the true 
 architecturesque considerably undermined when, as in the Rucellai 
 Palace (No. 49), a thin cuticle of pilasters and entablatures was added
 
 58 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 for the sake of " style " and nothing else to the simple honesty of such a 
 house as the Eiccardi Palace (No. 46) ; whilst the almost completely 
 structuresque design of the Pesaro Palace (No. 55) ought, in. its turn, to 
 have similarly suffered to some extent by comparison with tlie arcades of 
 the Hospital at Milan (No 75), or those of the Borghese Palace (No. 64). 
 But when Wren, in St. Paul's, was obliged to resort to such a device as 
 the sham storey over the aisles, and when many whole interiors of grand 
 churches, more or less like St. James's, Westminster (No. 18U), and 
 St. Martin's in the Fields (No. 1^7), are but the unmitigated lath and 
 plaster delusions which we know them to be, how to justify sucli " fine- 
 art " even the most lenient criticism must be at a loss to discover. 
 
 The mere simulation of Portland stone by a coating of Portland 
 cement is infinitely excelled in stupidity by the acceptance of lath and 
 plaster in such a way as to take the place of everything for a legitimate 
 "finish." Fortunately, however, the days of such irrationality have in a 
 great degree passed away ; and it is to the revivalists of Gothic art in 
 England, out of all the modern architects of the world, that the signal 
 honour seems to be due of having initiated this revolt in favour of 
 structural integrity. And that they have succeeded in accomplishing, in 
 many cases, the best results attainable within their particular field, is 
 unquestionable. A large amount of the element of artistic elegance they 
 have had sometimes to surrender to archasological authenticity, and 
 particularly, of course, in their more inexpensive work. In not a few 
 instances they have even been led away by their enthusiasm for frankness 
 and vigour to take dehght in a certain hrnsqucrie of design which is not 
 to be called archaic, but coarse ; a sort of Bohemianism Avhich, in a 
 refined age, can scarcely be regarded as an affectation that is harmless. 
 But at the same time, if this be all the price we have had to pay for the 
 success of Puginism, it must be cheerfully acknowledged that we ought 
 to be well satisfied with the bargain. — Ed.] 
 
 [The Episode of the Queex Axxe Style : — The arguments 
 adduced in favom- of the legitimate character of the modern Italo-European 
 style as the j)roper result of natural development, although they are 
 obviously based upon the mere recognition scientifically of those claims 
 of modern intelligence which it is idle affectation to deny, may in the 
 opinion of some be at once chaUenged by pointing to the remarkable 
 current fashion in England called " the Queen Anne style," which, it 
 will be said, ought by this rule to be good Italian, but is only l);ul 
 Dutch. Here again, however, the true critic will be careful to avoid a 
 tra}). Depend upon it, the adoption of this curious mannerism has been 
 brought about by the systematic ojieration, whether for good or ill, of 
 causes equivalent to the effect we see ; there is notliing ar])itrary, or 
 even spasmodic, about the artistic progress of the multitude ; it is only 
 the individual, or the clique, that can be eccentric. What, then, is the 
 true critical position of the Anglo-Dutch architecture of the ]>assing
 
 INTRODUCTION: CONCLUSION. 59 
 
 day ? Tlie answer is that it is an episode of South Kensington hric-a- 
 lirac ; a temporary substitute for the " secular Gothic " which the 
 ecclesiastical school tacked on to their proper province Avitli such 
 questionable success. Philosophically speaking, this fashion of the day, 
 in the way in which we are actually developing it, is no doubt a return 
 towards the modern European or Italian domestic mode, with a protest 
 against the jDainstaking finish of that style, and in favour of the brusque 
 and careless piquancy of the spurious domestic Gothic. " Quaintness " is 
 its ideal — in other words, flippant picturesqueness — and the fact must 
 not be forgotten that the movement was begun thirty years ago, and has 
 been pursued ever siuce, not by the opponents, but by the adherents of 
 the media3val princijjle. We must also bear in mind that its originators, 
 w^henever they at that time gave expression to their purpose, professed 
 no other object than the "revival" of a native Enghsh mode which 
 they considered would be appropriate for present uses. Then the 
 sketchers, wandering over north-western Europe for recreation m holiday 
 tours, soon acquired such a collection of the more racy and characteristic 
 illustrations of this mode, that the necessity or the obhgation to rely 
 upon English examples was superseded altogether ; and accordingly the 
 phrase " Flemish Eenaissance " in place of " Queen Anne " is now at 
 length being rationally accepted. The critic, of course, is entitled to 
 say, and has said, AVhat have we to do in England with Flemish 
 Eenaissance ? The answer is that with Flemish Eenaissance, in the 
 Butch sense of the term, or in the historical sense, we have nothing to 
 do at all ; but, regarding it as a temporary expedient for satisfying a 
 craving after picturesqueness and quaintness, it has, nevertheless, come 
 in conveniently for what it is worth— probably in history very little. 
 What is to come out of it is another question ; in itself it is, beyond all 
 dou])t, a mere stepping-stone. — Ed.] 
 
 . [The Cultivation of Peixciples of Criticism. — At the present 
 time, when the study of abstract principles of architectural composition 
 has been in England quite suspended, and the common fashion of the 
 day is simply to make things quaint or frisky enough, if possible, to 
 surprise the passer-by ; when the " masterly " sketch-books of the summer 
 tourist are the accepted standards of taste, and severity and oddity run 
 together in very loose harness ; it would be useless to quote old maxims of 
 design, for they are obsolete ; and equally useless to suggest new ones, for 
 the future must be left to evolve them. Gravity in architecture, and 
 suaA'ity, must return some day ; we cannot be always so very ]i\'ely on 
 one side of the way, or for ever maintain such a frowning brow on the 
 other ; when the time comes the old maxims will come up again, and 
 new ones will come with them ; but we must wait. It would be useless, 
 therefore, and only what is called old-fashioned, or even pedantic, to 
 pretend just now to criticise by means of academical canons the artistic 
 merits of current examples ; the prodigious cultivation of the picturesque
 
 60 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 has ruined criticism. The only thing, perhaps, that may be safely 
 attempted for the present is the enforcement of broad precepts of obvious 
 propriety. That every building ought to be most carefully devised and 
 organised for the strict fulfilment of its purposes of occupation, is the 
 very first point ; and here the occupants must generally be allowed to be 
 witnesses. This rule, moreover, will be found to reach a great deal 
 farther than most of our artistic architects may suppose. The frank 
 acceptance of such forms and features of conventional art as shall be 
 perfectly appropriate, straightforwardly truthful, and unaffectedly grace- 
 ful, may be relied upon as another rule ; and especially that the 
 common sense of the many should not, be outraged by any uncommon- 
 sense of the few. Intoxicated architecture may be always rejected ; 
 ambitious architecture may be at least regarded with suspicion ; paper 
 arcliitecture is worthless — that m which the fascinating touch of the 
 draughtsman is the chief or sole source of pleasure ; quaint or funny 
 architecture is almost invariably a delusion, concealing the architect's 
 want of care, or want of genuine skiU. Science never jests. On the 
 other side of the question, however, we ought, even in this kind of 
 criticism, to cherish hberality of feehng, and, if only as matter of 
 expediency in such unfavourable circumstances, forbearance and modesty 
 in delivering an adverse judgment. Who are the critics whose laugh 
 has been the loudest in our day ? Not the most learned students in the 
 libraries ; not the most able craftsmen in the studios. The pen of 
 the ready writer in censorship, especiaUy that of the amateur, is all too 
 ready to run away with its master. The more we cultivate that 
 generosity of judgment which pertains to elevated thought, the sooner 
 our coming canons of taste will come. Error on the safe side in this 
 particular matter is not reluctance to admire, but unwiUingness to blame. 
 Leaving out of account, of course, that which is mimistakably otherwise, 
 let us always bear in mind that the work before us has cost its author 
 pains, that his aim has been to please us, and that every blade of grass, 
 however feeble, helps to make the swathe of hay. — Eu.]
 
 Book I. 
 
 ITALY : ECCLESIASTICAL. 
 
 61 
 
 BOOK r. 
 
 ITALY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ECCLESIASTICAL. 1 
 
 I. Churches antkrior to St. Peter's. — TI. St. Peter's. — III. Churches subse- 
 quent TO St. Peter's. — IV. Domical Churches. — V. Basilican Churches.— 
 VI. Exteriors. — YII. Interiors. 
 
 I. — Churches anterioe to St. Peter's. 
 
 The influence of the grand old style of Classical Art clung so tena- 
 ciously to the soil of Italy, that it would be extremely difficult to 
 determine when the modern epoch really commenced, were it not for 
 the two great tests enumerated above : — First, that aU buildings of the 
 modern styles are, or must at least attempt to be, copies of some more 
 ancient building, or in some more ancient and obsolete style ; and, 
 secondly, that they must be the production of one individual mind, and 
 of that mind only. 
 
 Were it not for this, such buildings as San Miniato at Florence, and 
 some of the basilicas at Eome, are in fact more Classical in plan, and — 
 as their ornaments are generally borrowed from ancient buildings — far 
 more so in detail, than many of the buildings of the Renaissance period. 
 Their builders, however, were only thinking of how they might produce 
 the best possible church for their purposes with the materials at their 
 disposal, and not caring to glorify themselves by showing their own 
 
 ' In the ' History of Architecture ' Ec- 
 clesiastical Art is treated separately frona 
 Secular, and, as the principal and most 
 important form, always took precedence 
 of the oth( r. The same course is pursued 
 in this work in so far as Italy, Spain, ami 
 
 France are concerned ; but, as the otlicr 
 countries hardly possessed an Ecclesias- 
 tical Art, properly so called, during the 
 Kenaissancc period, it would be pedantic 
 to follow out a division of the subject 
 whicli has in eft'eet no r( alitv.
 
 62 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 individual cleverness : we consequently study these agglomerations with 
 nearly the same interest as we do a northern cathedral, and approach 
 them with very different feelings from those which we experience in 
 examining churches of more modern date. 
 
 It was, however, impossilile that in a country which was everywhere 
 strewed with si)ecimens of ancient Art, and where the Classical spirit 
 was more or less impressed on aU such churches as then existed, the 
 Italians could long escape from attempting to reproduce, exactly and 
 intentionally, what they were repeating accidentally. Nor did they feel 
 any regret at throwing on one side such traces of Mediaeval Architecture 
 as they possessed, for the Pointed Style had never attained tliat degree 
 of perfection which it reached on this side of the Alps, and had no real 
 hold on the feelings of the people. Besides this, the Classical style was 
 their own, invented in their country, suited to their climate and, to a 
 certain extent^ to their wants : so much so that whatever little incon- 
 venience might arise from its adoption was more than compensated for 
 by the memories which every detail called up, and to recall and rehabili- 
 tate these glories of their vanished greatness was the guiding idea of all 
 the aspirations of that age. 
 
 This being so, it was an inevitable consequence that Classical Archi- 
 tecture should supersede Mediaeval in that country at some time or other ; 
 and the occasion, as mentioned above, was when the revival of the 
 literature of the Romans recalled the recollection of the greatest nation 
 that Italy, and in some respects that the world, had ever seen. Sooner 
 or later it must have come to this ; but practically the change was 
 introduced liy Filippo Brunelleschi ^ and Leon Battista Alberti,^ two of 
 the most remarkable men of their day. 
 
 The former, a Florentine by birth and an architect by inclination, 
 early conceived the ambition of doming o\er the great octagon of the 
 cathedral of his native city, which Arnolpho and Giotto had left mi- 
 finished, and, according to the usual practice of the Middle Ages, without 
 even a drawing to show how they intended to complete it. They seem 
 to have felt confident they could roof over even that space, and, if this 
 confidence was justified, they wisely left the exact mode in which it 
 should be done undetermined to the last moment, so as to benefit by all 
 the study and aU the experience that could be gained in the interval ; 
 for it must be remembered that in their age Architecture was a true and 
 consequently a progressive art. Had it continued to be so, they were 
 perfectly right in assuming that every year's experience in building 
 would have indicated how the mechanical difficulties of the task could 
 have been better overcome, and every day's additional study, or addi- 
 tional knowledge of architectural effects, would ha\e shown how it could 
 be done most artistically. They are not to l)lame that thev could not 
 
 Bom 1377: died 1444. 2 Born 1404; died 1472.
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : CHURCHES ANTEPJOR TO ST. PETER'S. 63 
 
 foresee the collapse that immediately afterwards took place, and which 
 forced this art into the path where progress was impossible, and where 
 their aspirations could never l>o fulfilled. Brunelleschi took it up at the 
 dawn of a new era, in a totally different sense from that in which its 
 original designers had left it ; but, convinced that it was the greatest 
 opportunity for his purposes which his age presented, lie pursued this 
 object through life with a fire and energy which can only be realised by 
 the hot blood of the South, 
 
 As mentioned' in a former part of this work,^ there is no great 
 difficulty in seeing what Arnolpho intended to do with the great octagon, 
 and as little doubt but that he would have been able to cover the space 
 vnth a dome, somewhat similar internally to that executed by Brunelleschi, 
 but externally either entirely hid by the roof or ornamented with tliree 
 or four tiers of galleries, which would have counteracted any thrust, and 
 
 12. Plan of S intu Sjiirito, Flurence. Scile 100 feet to 1 inch. From Agincourt.2 
 
 made its construction comparatively easy. It appears, however, that, in 
 the beginning of the fifteenth century, a less expensive or a more 
 Classical form of dome was demanded, but no one seemed to know 
 exactly how to set about it. Under these circumstances Brunelleschi went 
 to Eome, and studied with the most intense enthusiasm not only the 
 dome of the Pantheon and all the other vaults which the Romans had 
 left in that city, but, becoming enamoured of his subject, he mastered 
 every detail of the style, and became familiar with every form of Eoman 
 Art. 
 
 In the year 1420 he returned to his native city, thoroughly a Classic 
 in all that referred to Architecture ; and not only did he, after in- 
 numerable compUcations, complete the great oliject of his life lieforc he 
 died in 1444, but he left his mark on the Architecture of liis age. 
 
 ' 'History of Arclnteclure,' vol. ii. p. 209. 
 
 - ' Hisloire de I'Art par les Monumens,' vi. vol?, ful. Paris, 1S2;3.
 
 64 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 His first c:reat undertaking in the new style was to complete the 
 church of San Lorenzo, a large and important building in his native 
 city, but which was considerably advanced when it fell into his hands. 
 It is 2G0 ft. in length by 82 in width, with transepts 171 ft. from side 
 to side. No church can be freer from bad taste than this one ; and 
 there is no false construction, nor anything to offend the most fastidious. 
 Where it fails is in the want of sufficient solidity and mass in the 
 supporting pillars and the pier-arches, with reference to the load they 
 have to bear ; and a consequent attenuation and poverty most fatal to 
 architectural effect. This church, though very similar, is on the whole 
 inferior in beauty to that of Santo Spirito, which being entirely according 
 to Brunelleschi's design, he was enabled to mould it to his own fancies 
 
 13. StK.ti.in of part of CLurtli of Saiit<j Siirit.i, Florence. Scale 50 feet to 1 inch. Fr..m Agiucoiirt. 
 
 much more completely than he could the other. This church, too, is 
 rather larger, being in plan (Woodcut Xo. 12) 296 ft. long by 94 ft. 
 3 in. wide, and, taking it all in all, is internally as successful an adapta- 
 tion of the basilican type as that age presents. The design shows how 
 complete a mastery its architect had obtained at Rome over that peculiar 
 form of church, not usually prevalent in Italy, except at Rome and 
 Ravenna, as well as over the details of the Classical style, which are here 
 used with singular elegance and purity. What is perhaps principally to 
 be objected to in the design is the fragment of the entablature which is 
 placed on each column under the springing of the pier-arches (Woodcut 
 No. 13), which in this church has not even the excuse it lias in San 
 Lorenzo, that it is repeated on the wall. It is, however, worthy of 
 being remarked here as the earliest instance of the use of one of the
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : CHURCHES ANTERIOR TO ST. PETER'S. G5 
 
 typical forms of the Renaissance, which is, taking it all in all, perhaps 
 the most fatal gift of Classic Art to modern times, as nine-tenths of the 
 difficulties and clumsinesses of the revived Art are owing to the 
 introduction of this feature. The first thing the architects of the fifth 
 and sixth centuries did was to abolish this fragment of an entablature, 
 and place the arch direct on the pier or pillar, where it ought to be ; 
 and the advantage of this proceeding is so self-evident that it seems 
 strange that it could ever have been restored. No single feature can 
 more clearly mark the dawn of copying, to the exclusion of thought, 
 than its reproduction. 
 
 Another of Brunelleschi's most admired works is the very elegant 
 little octagonal church Degh Angeli, which, besides being so small as to 
 
 -1 
 
 U ^ ic« tf the Church cf St tiancesco at Rimim From Gaily Knight s Itiliin Vi lit tu c 
 
 be insignificant, never was finished. There are several other churches 
 by this architect which may have influenced the taste of his contem- 
 poraries, though they have added little to his personal fame. 
 
 Alberti was led to the study of Classical Art by a totally differeiit 
 path. Being nobly l)orn, he received the Ijest education that the country 
 could afford, and became so enamoured of the literature of the Romans 
 that he adopted Latin, not only as the language in which he wrote, but 
 almost as that of his conversation ; and having besides a taste for Art, 
 and a mechanical turn of mind, he naturally turned his attention to the 
 restoration of the Classical style. In order to forward this, he wrote a 
 Latin treatise ' De Re ^dificatoria,' which is still a text-book on the 
 subject, and practically he carried out some desigj)s which, in so far at 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 GO 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book T. 
 
 least as the exteriors are concerned, were further in advance of his age 
 than e\-en those of Brunelleschi. 
 
 The best known and most admired of these is the church of San 
 Francesco at Rimini (Woodcut No. 14), built for his friend Sigismondo 
 Malatesta, who, besides wishing to erect a beautiful church, conceived 
 the pathetic idea of making it a mausoleum for those friends he had 
 gathered around him during his lifetime, and who he hoped might repose 
 side by side with him after his death. It was in order to carry out this 
 intention that the sides of the church were arranged as a series of grand 
 
 niches, each of which was to 
 contain a sarcophagus of Classical 
 design. The faQade was never 
 finished, but is quite as elegant 
 and as purely Classical as any of 
 those afterwards erected by Pal- 
 ladio, and in some respects in 
 better style ; the whole being in 
 good taste, and the parts com- 
 bined together with great ele- 
 gance and appropriateness, be- 
 sides being free from any 
 anomalies either of construction 
 or detail.^ 
 
 Alberti also erected the more 
 important church of St. Andrea 
 at Mantua, which, though hardly 
 so elegant as that last mentioned, 
 is even more interesting in an 
 historical point of view, as being 
 the type of all those churches 
 which, from St. Peter's down- 
 wards, have been erected in Italy 
 and in most parts of Europe 
 during the last three centuries. 
 It differs, it is true, only in degree, either in plan or section, from the 
 earlier Gothic churches ; but the pilasters along each side of the nave, 
 the coffered waggon vault, the form of the dome over the intersection of 
 the nave and transept,^ are all features which are for the first time fully 
 developed in the positions in which we here find them, though we 
 
 15. Plan of St. Andrea at Mantua. From Agiucourt. 
 Scale luO feet to 1 inch. 
 
 ' The interior was built before it fell 
 into Alberti's hands, and is about as bad 
 a specimen of the clumsy Gotliic of tiie 
 Italians as can well be conceived, and a 
 perfect justification to those who rejected 
 that style to adopt the Classicnl. 
 
 ^ It is said the dome was built after- 
 wards. It may be so, but it was so 
 evidently a part of the original design 
 that whether erected then or not is f)f 
 little consequence.
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : CHURCHES ANTERIOR TO ST. PETER'S. G7 
 
 become so painfully familiar witli them afterwards. In this instance, 
 however, they are used with very great elegance, and combined with as 
 much appropriateness as it is almost possible to conceive. The chni'ch 
 being practically without side aisles, the pilasters, which are usually the 
 great difficulty, appear to rest against the wall, and not as if they were 
 applied to make up part of a pier, as is usually the case. 
 
 The dimensions of the church (Woodcut No. 15) are considerable, 
 being 317 ft. long internally, and the nave and transepts are each 
 
 Sfcliuu ul .St. Auiiri'U, Mautu.i. I'Vom Agiucourt. Scale :iU tl't-t tn 1 hicli. 
 
 58 ft. wide by 95 in height, but owing to the simplicity of the parts it 
 appears e\en larger than it really is. The great charm, liowe\'er, is the 
 beauty of its proportions, the extreme elegance of every part, and the 
 appropriateness of the modes in which Classical details are used, witliout 
 the least violence or straining. Most of the smaller ornaments have 
 been painted on in quite recent times, so that it is not clear how many 
 of them are parts of Alberti's original design ; and their principal defect 
 is that they are more secular than ecclesiastical in their (;haracter. This 
 
 F 2
 
 68 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 does not destroy the effect of the architecture, though it detracts 
 somewhat from their own appropriateness ; but, allowing for this defect, 
 there is probably no church in Italy so entirely satisfactory as this ; 
 and, considering the early date of this specimen, it is marvellous how 
 Palladio and others could have gone so far astray with such an example 
 Ijefore them. 
 
 The exterior never was finished except the entrance front (Woodcut 
 No. 17), and that is worthy of the interior. Nothing in the style is 
 grander than the great central arch, w^ell supported on either side, and 
 crowned by a simple unljroken pediment. The external order also 
 ranges with the internal, and with the crowning member of the side 
 aisles externally, so that there is no sham and no false construction : it 
 is avowedly a porch, appropriate in style and dimensions to the church 
 to which it is attached. There may be a little awkwardness in the side 
 doors of the porch not being opposite to those leading into the nave, 
 but the motive is so evident that it is not offensive. 
 
 The church of St. Sebastian, also 
 at Mantua, was erected by Alberti, 
 but is by no means so happy in 
 design, and in its present dilapi- 
 dated condition cannot be quoted as 
 a pleasing specimen of Art, though 
 there are some features about it that 
 mark the master mind. 
 
 Whether it was the special ability 
 of these two men, or the circum- 
 stance of their applying their minds 
 fresh from the study of the antique 
 to the new form of Art, or from 
 some other cause, it certainly happened that the new style was launched 
 under singularly favourable circumstances ; and if it afterwards strayed 
 further from the right path, it was not owing to the architects under 
 whom it was inaugurated, but to circumstances which will be noted in 
 the future. 
 
 Alberti died in 1472 ; consequently both these great revivalists were 
 dead, and Gothic Art had perished in Italy some time before our 
 Henry VII. ascended the throne, and more than half a century before 
 the Pointed style ceased to be the only form of Architecture known or 
 practised within these islands. 
 
 Elevation of Porch of St. Andrea, Mantua. 
 Scale 50 feet to 1 inch. 
 
 The next architect whose works had any marked influence on the 
 progress of the new style was Bramante d'Urbino.^ Born in the same 
 year in which Brunelleschi died, he seems to have inherited not only his 
 
 > Born 1444; died 1514,
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : CHURCHES ANTERIOR TO ST. PETER'S. G9 
 
 genius for the art, but the same impetuosity of disposition, and, by a 
 curious coincidence, was the designer, and was nearly being the builder, 
 of the only dome in the world which, for size and difficulty of execution, 
 can rival that of his predecessor. 
 
 Though he was the architect of several secular buildings, which will 
 be mentioned hereafter, the only church wholly by him which now 
 exists, and which is recognised as remarkable, is that outside the walls at 
 Lodi (shown in plan, section, and elevation, in Woodcuts Nos. 18, 19, 
 20). Though neither very large nor very elaborate in its decoration, it 
 is a very beautiful church, and forms a perfect pendant to Alberti's 
 church at Mantua ; the one being the earliest and best type of the 
 Basilican, as the other is of the Domical or Byzantine form of the 
 Renaissance. When these two were finished the change from the 
 Mediaeval to the Modern style may be said to have been completed, and 
 under the most favourable auspices. All that then remained to be done 
 was gradually to invent new details co supply the place of the borrowed 
 Classical ones, and a new and nobler style 
 might have been in^■ented. The opposite ^^^%^ 
 
 course was pursued ; stereotyped forms only ff ^ 
 
 were tolerated, invention was discouraged, yg^ ^ks^-^t^ 
 
 and the art decayed. This, however, was J^ j i, ' \ | ! ^\ 
 not the fault of the earlier architects, Init ^ I • 1 1 y 
 
 of those who followed afterwards. ^^rJ^i --------- U«»fe^^ 
 
 The church at Lodi consists of a dome, ^^m Vr^ 
 
 50 ft. in diameter internally, and about m M 
 
 three times that height. For external effect ^^,^^ 
 
 this is far from being too much ; and al- is- I'lan of church at Lodi. scaie 
 
 ° . . ... 100 feet to 1 inch. 
 
 though internally it certainly is too high in 
 
 proportion, the defect is remedied, to a very great extent, by the intro- 
 duction of four semi-domes, attached to the sides of the square sup- 
 porting the central dome, and which make together an apartment 
 125 ft. wide by 150 in height. If these figures had been reversed it 
 would have been better, but the proportion is so nearly good that the 
 difference may be o\'erlooked ; especially when we observe to what an 
 extent the Gothic style had introduced a taste for height as one of the 
 principal elements of architectural grandem*. It may also be remarked 
 that this building is more truthful in its construction than any Gothic 
 building w^e are acquainted with, there being no false roof or false 
 construction of any sort. The real defect of the design is that the 
 ornamentation consists almost wholly of ranges of pilasters, which cover 
 the walls both externally and internally, and by their small size and want 
 of meaning detract much from what would otherwise be really a very 
 beautiful design. 
 
 Another very celebrated and more successful design of Bramante, or 
 at all events of his age, is the dome he is said to have added to the
 
 70 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 existing Gothic nave of Sta. Maria delle Grazie (Woodcut No. 21), at 
 Milan, and which, both externally and internally, is one of the most 
 pleasing specimens of its class found anywhere. Had the architects of 
 the succeeding age been only content to work with tlie moderate amount 
 of Classical feeling found in this building, we should have had no cause 
 to regret the loss of the Gothic style ; but the temptation to employ 
 great pilasters and pillars, whose real recommendation was that they 
 covered the greatest amount of space with the least amount of thought, 
 was more than liuman nature could resist, on tlic part, at least, of men 
 
 1!'. Section of Church at Lodi. Scale 50 feet to 1 inch. From Agincourt. 
 
 who were more artists and amateurs than architects. Under the pretence 
 that these forms were truly Classic, they soon became fasliionable, and 
 were never got rid of afterwards. 
 
 The dome of Sta. Maria is Go ft. in diameter, to which are added 
 three semicircular tribunes, smaller in proportion to the dome than those 
 found at Lodi. Internally there are no exaggerated features to destroy 
 the harmony of the parts, and the whole system of ornamentation 
 employed is pleasing in detail, and appropriate to the situation where it 
 IS found, and only wants a little colour, Avhich might now be applied, to 
 give it a most pleasing effect. Externally, the S(juare mass on which 
 
 i
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : CHURCHES ANTERIOR TO ST. PETEM'S. 71 
 
 the dome rests is hardly sufficiently reheved by the ijrojectiou ol' tliL- 
 tribunes ; though this is a far more pardonable defect than that whi(!h 
 is found at St. Peter's, and generally in the Domical churches of the 
 Renaissance, where the supports of the dome are so concealed by tlie 
 l)ody of the church as nowhere to be visible externally. In this instance 
 the whole rises most pleasingly from the ground, and the ornamentation 
 is everywhere truly constructive. Some of the details are o\erdone, and 
 might have been simplitied with advantage ; but the whole is extremely 
 elegant and satisfactory. The greatest deflect of the design is ])erhaps 
 
 
 Elevution of Church at Lodi. Scale 50 feet to 1 inch. From Agiucouit. 
 
 the crowning member. Either the circular form of the dome ought to 
 have been show^n externally, or the straight-lined roof carried forward 
 over the arcade, so as to be perpendicular over the rest of the structure. 
 As it is, the want of projection and shadow at this point breaks uj) the 
 whole, and gives rise to an appearance of weakness, the effect of which 
 is certainly unpleasing. 
 
 There is another small circular chapel by the same architect in the 
 cloister of San Pietro Montorio, at Rome. As its internal diameter is 
 scarcely 15 ft., it can hardly l)e considered worthy of mention except 
 as showing the taste of the designer, and how comjiletely, in its circular
 
 72 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 peristyle, he had caught the elegance of the Classical style ; but even 
 then it is not equal either in taste or originality to his design at Lodi, 
 
 Perhaps, however, the most celebrated building of this age is the 
 fagade of the Certosa at Pavia ; and if we are content, as the Italians 
 were, that the fagade shall be only a frontispiece, suggesting rather than 
 expressing the construction of the church behind it, this is certainly one 
 of the most beautiful designs of the age. It was connnenced in the year 
 1473, from designs prepared by Burgognone, a Milanese artist of some 
 eminence at that time, but whose works in this instance at least show 
 
 Santa Maria delle Grazic, Milan. From a Thotograph. 
 
 how much more essentially he was a painter than an architect. They arc 
 thus interesting as an early instance of the danger of the practice of 
 intrusting to men of the brush, works which can be executed properly 
 by those who have all their lives been familiar with only the chisel 
 and the trowel. The fagadc was not, however, completed till very long 
 after his death, if, indeed, it can be said to be so even now, though 
 the original design does not seem to have been ever departed from. 
 
 The fagadc consists of five compartments, divided vertically by 
 buttresses of bold and api)r()priate form : the three centre di^•[sions
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : CHURCHES ANTERIOB TO ST. PETER'S. 73 
 
 representing the body of the church, with its aisles, the outer one the 
 side chapels of the nave. Horizontally it is crossed by two triforium 
 galleries — if that name may be applied to them^one at the height of 
 the roof of the aisles, the upper crowning the facade, and repro- 
 ducing the gallery that runs round the older church under the eaves 
 of the great roof. All these features are therefore appropriate and well 
 placed, and give relief with light and shade to the composition, to an 
 extent seldom found in this age. The greatest defect of the design as 
 an architectural object is the amount of minute and inappropriate 
 ornament which is spread over the whole of the lower part of the 
 fa9ade, up to the first gallery. 
 
 As mentioned in the Introduction, Painting was the art, pai^ excel- 
 lence, of the Renaissance age, and both Sculpture and Architecture 
 suffered from her undue supremacy. Sculptured bassi-rehevi were 
 generally Httle more than pictures in relief, and Architectural orna- 
 ments were too often merely copies of painted arabesques. Those of 
 this facade are identical with those with which Raphael was then 
 adorning the Loggie of the Vatican ; and however beautiful they may 
 be as a painted decoration for an interior, they are singularly out of 
 place and inappropriate as architectural ornaments on an exterior. In 
 themselves, however, they are beautiful, and they captivate by their 
 delicacy and the expression of elaboration which they convey from the 
 infinite labour they so evidently must have cost ; but beyond this they 
 hardly add nuich either to the expression or to the beauty of the fa9ade. 
 
 The erection of the cupola on the intersection of the nave and 
 transejjts of the Certosa was commenced and carried on simultane- 
 ously with that of the facade ; and is not only a very beautiful object 
 in itself, but is interesting as being the only important example of 
 a Renaissance copy of the formi of dome used by the Italians in the 
 Mediiuval period. An example of the Gothic form, as found at Chiara- 
 valle, was given in a previous part of this work.^ The lower part of 
 this design is quite as beautiful as that, if not more so ; but it is over- 
 powered by the cupola, which crowns the whole, and which was put 
 there at a time when largeness of details was believed to contribute to 
 grandeur of effect, though generally producing, as it does here, a 
 diametrically opposite result. It is infinitely to be regretted that 
 Brunelleschi did not translate Arnolpho's design into Classical forms, 
 as was done in this instance, instead of trying to copy the simple but 
 unsuitable outline of the Pantheon. 
 
 It would be tedious, as it would be uninteresting, to enumerate the 
 other churches built in Italy during the fifteenth century. They are 
 generally insignificant in size, as the piety of the Middle Ages had 
 already endowed all the principal towns with churches sufficient for 
 
 ' 'History of Architecture,' vol. ii. p. 208.
 
 74 
 
 HISTORY OF MODEllN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 E^:^ 
 
 22. View of Western Fa9ade of the Certosa, near I'uvia. From Roseug;'.rten.> 
 
 the wants of the inhabitants at that particular period. Their style 
 was practically the same as that of those described above, but, being 
 frequently built under the direction of men of less talent or less know- 
 ledge than the architects just Darned, they are generally inferior iu 
 design, halting painfully between the two styles, and, as is usually the 
 case in such circumstances, selecting the defects rather than the 
 beauties of either. 
 
 * ' Aicliilelitouischcn Slylartcu,' 8vo. Eraiiuscliweig, 1857.
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : CHURCHES ANTERIOR TO ST. PETER'S. 75 
 
 Those just described— Santo Spirito at Florence, Sant' Andrea, 
 Mantua, that at Lodi, and Santa Maria, Milan, with the fagade of the 
 Certosa at Pavia— may be taken as types of the churches of the true 
 Cinque-cento period, and show how essentially, even at that early 
 period, the Italian architects had got rid of all Gothic feehng, and 
 how completely they had mastered that peculiar application of the 
 Classical details to modern purposes which formed the staple of Archi- 
 tectural Art in Europe for the succeeding three centuries. 
 
 They also show how much more thought and care the traditions 
 of Media3val Art rendered it necessary tliat the architects at the dawn 
 of a new age should devote to their designs, than tlie Painters and 
 Sculptors who assumed the position of architects in the following cen- 
 turies were either able or thought it incumbent on them to devote to 
 tlie elaboration of buildings intrusted to their charge. 
 
 II. — St. Peter's. 
 
 It will be percei\X'd from the examples just (pioted that all the 
 elements of design which were afterwards found in the churches of the 
 Renaissance had already been introduced during the fifteenth century, 
 and that, if any great building of an ecclesiastical character were after- 
 wards to be erected in Italy, we could easily predicate what form it 
 would almost of necessity take. 
 
 An o})portunity was not long wanting ; for the old basilica of St. 
 Peter's, built in haste, in a bad age, w'as fast falling to decay ; and, not- 
 withstanding that it was larger than any Mediaeval cathedral, it still 
 was felt to be unworthy of being the principal church of Eurojie. In 
 consequence of this, Pope Nicholas V, commenced a new building, 
 from the designs of Eosselini, on such a scale as would- — had it l)een 
 completed — have made it the greatest and most sjjlendid cathedral of 
 Europe, as essentially as the Pope was then the greatest high priest 
 that the world had ever seen. His designs have not been preserved, 
 and the only part which was executed was the western tribune, which 
 occupied the same place as the present one, but was only raised a few 
 feet out of the ground when the Pope died in 1454. 
 
 There the matter seems to have rested for more than half a cen- 
 tm'y, and no one seems to have thought of carrying out the concei)ti()n 
 of Nicholas, tiU the project was revived, almost accidentally, by Pope 
 JuUus II. That pontiff, having commissioned Michael Angelo'^ to 
 execute a splendid mausoleum to contain his ashes, on a scale so large 
 that no church or hall then existing could receive it, bethought him- 
 self of the tribune of Nicholas as a fit and proper place for its erection. 
 
 ' 'History of ArcLifecturc,' vol. i. p. 305, ct seq. 
 2 Born 1474 ; died 15(53.
 
 76 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 23. Plan of St. Peter's as proposed by Bramante. From Bonanni.' No Scale. 
 
 ' 'Numisuiiita Sumiuoruin routiticum Tcmpli Vaticaiii faln'icam iudicauliu,' I'ol. 
 KouiaD, 1715.
 
 ClIAP. I. 
 
 ITALY : ST. PETER'S. 
 
 77 
 
 Plan of St. Peter's as proposed by Sangallo. From Bonanni. No scale. 
 
 Havino- once had his attention called to the subject, he not only deter- 
 minedto fit it up for this purpose, but to carry out the design of his 
 predecessor, on a scale at least equal to the original conception. 
 
 Bramante, who was then in the plenitude of his practice and the 
 zenith of his fame, was instructed to prepare the designs ; and although 
 we have not all the details requisite to form a judgment as to then- 
 merits, we may safely say that it is to be regretted they were not 
 adhered to by subsequent architects.
 
 78 HIS'L'ORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 The accompanyino- plan (Woodcut No. 2?.) will explain what he 
 proposed. Beginning on the west/ with the tribune of Nicholas, he 
 proposed to place in front of it, at a distance of 275 feet to its centre, 
 a dome, equal in diameter, and similar in design, to that of the Pan- 
 theon, only that he proposed to surround it externally with a peristyle 
 of pillars, and to surmount it by a lantern. This was to be the central 
 point of three tribunes, the one already commenced, and two others 
 north and south, at the extremities of the transepts ; a disposition 
 which has been adhered to by aU subsequent architects, and now 
 exists. ■ To the eastward he proposed to add a na\c 400 feet each way, 
 divided into three aisles, and extending to fi\e bays in length east and 
 west. In front of this was to be a portico of tliirty-six pillars, arranged 
 in three rows, but unequally spaced. Another design of his, which we 
 find commemorated in some medals, has two spires on this front, and 
 between them a portico of only six pillars. 
 
 The foundation-stone of this great church was laid in the year 1506, 
 
 and the works were carried on with the greatest activity during the 
 
 following seven or eight years. On the death of Pope Julius 11. , in 
 
 1513, and that of his architect in the following year, the celebrated 
 
 Raphael was appointed to succeed him. Although that great painter 
 
 was an accomplished architect, in the sense in which that term was 
 
 then becoming understood, the task he was now ajipointcd to was as 
 
 little suited to his taste as to liis abilities. So great had been the haste 
 
 of the late Pope, and so inconsiderate the zeal of his architect, that, 
 
 though the great piers which were to support the dome had only 
 
 been carried to such a height as to enable the arches to be turned 
 
 which were to join them, they already showed signs of weakness, and 
 
 it was evident they must either be rebuilt from the basement, or 
 
 very considerably reinforced, if ever a dome was to be placed on them. 
 
 While men were disputing what was best to be done, Raphael died, 
 
 in 1520, and Baldassare Peruzzi^ was appointed to succeed him as 
 
 architect. 
 
 He, fearing that the work would never be completed on the scale 
 originally designed, determined at once to abandon the nave of Bra- 
 maute, and reduced the building to a square enclosing a Greek cross — 
 to a design in fact similar to that of the church at Lodi (Woodcut No. 
 18) — only with the angles filled in with square sacristies, which were 
 to be each surmounted by a dome of about one-third the diameter of 
 the great one, being in fact the arrangement then and subsequently 
 
 * The orientation of St. Peter's is the 
 reverse of that of nortliern cathedrals — 
 the western apse containinu; the principal 
 altar ; but, as is well known, the practice 
 of turning the altar in chuiches towards 
 the east was never introduced into Italy. 
 
 * The centre of this dome was to coin- 
 cide with the central point of the apse of 
 the old cathedral, and the confessional 
 beneath it was to be, and is, retained in 
 this place at the present day. 
 
 " Born 1481; died 1536.
 
 CllAT. T. 
 
 ITALY : ST. PETER'S. 
 
 Id 
 
 25. Klevatiuu of E-..st Front of St. Peter's according to Sangallo's design. From Bonanni. No scale. 
 
 SO universal in the Russian churches. Before much was done, how- 
 ever, he died, in 1536, and was succeeded l)y the celebrated Antonio 
 Sangallo.^ He set to work carefully to re-study the whole design, and 
 made a model of what he proposed, on a large scale. This still exists, 
 and, with the drawings, enables us to understand exactly what Ik; 
 }>roposed ; and although no part of it was executed, it is so remarkable 
 tliat it deserves at least a passing notice. 
 
 He adopted in plan the Greek cross of Eaphael and Pemzzi, which 
 probably was too far advanced to be altered, but he added in front of it 
 an immense pronaos, about 450 feet north and south, and 150 east and 
 west, and consequently as large as most Mediaeval cathedrals (Woodcut 
 No. 24). This was the great defect in his design : for though it was 
 beautiful and picturesque, and with its two steeples would have grouped 
 pleasingly with the dome, still it was entirely useless. It did not add to 
 the internal accommodation, like the nave of Bramante, and in fact was a 
 
 1 Boi-ii 1470 ; diel 1546.
 
 80 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 mere ornament, except for the one chamber over the entrance, from 
 which the Pope's blessing was to be given, ^ 
 
 The principal merit of his design is the ordinance of the exterior 
 (Woodcut No, 25). This consists of a Doric Order, representing the 
 side aisles. Over this is an immense mezzanine, and over this again an 
 Ionic order, with arches between. Although the facade is so broken up 
 that these parts look a Mttle confused as distributed there, nothing can 
 be grander than the sweep round the triljunes. If he had had the 
 courage to set back his upper Order to the inner side of the aisles, as 
 shown in the diagram (Woodcut Xo, 2C), and made it into a true 
 clerestory, round the three circular apses and along tlie nave — thus 
 giving his mezzanine a meaning, by making it represent the roof of the 
 aisles on the angles and under the towers — he would have produced a 
 design whicli it would have been difficult for even the Gothic enthusiasts 
 of the present day to criticise. This would also have remedied what is 
 practically the principal defect of all these great domical 
 churches ; which is, that the dome seems to stand on, or 
 1)0 thrust through, the roof. Had the clerestory been thrown 
 l)ack here, the square base of the dome would have been 
 in appearance brought down to the ground-line like a 
 Gothic steeple on the intersection of the nave and transept 
 of a Media3val cathedral. The whole would tlien have 
 risen, naturally and constructively, step by step, from the 
 ground to the lantern on the top, and, with the simpler 
 lines and more elegant details of Classic Art, a far more 
 "gestiiig arrange- purc aud majcstic building would have been the result 
 sangaiio's deva- tliau auy Gothic Cathedral we have yet seen. If, in 
 addition to this, we take into consideration that the 
 section of the clerestory was intended to have been at least loO feet 
 from side to side, while that of Cologne is only one-third of that 
 dimension, and that the intersection would have been crowned by a dome 
 of such dimensions that the central tower of Cologne would hardly be big 
 enough to be its lantern, it may easily be conceived how nearly all the 
 elements of architectural sublimity were being reached. 
 
 It does not appear that much was done towards carrying out this 
 design. All SangaUo's time, and all the funds he could command, were 
 employed in strengthening the piei-s of the great dome, and in remedying 
 the defects in construction introduced by his jiredecessors. His design, 
 besides, does not seem to have met with much favour among his con- 
 temporaries, and with the greatest opposition from Michael Angelo, 
 whose criticism was " that it was broken into too many parts, and with 
 
 ' It is more thau usually interesting to i C. Wren selected principally for imitation 
 us, as will be shown hereafter ; inasmuch in his own first and fuvouritc design (or 
 as this pronaos was the feature which Sir | St. Paul'.-^.
 
 Chap. I. 
 
 ITALY : ST. PETER'S. 
 
 Oi 
 
 
 Lr-. 
 
 :2 
 
 Plan of St. Peter's as it now exists. Scale 
 
 .OOft.tolincb. WitUPlanofoldBasiUcainoutline. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 82 HISTOEY OF MODEKJN AKCMilJWUi UK-t.. iiooK 1. 
 
 an infinity of columns would convey the idea of a flothic building- rather 
 than of an antique or Classical one ; " ^ a remark that conveys only too 
 exactly the feelings of that age, though it would hardly be considered its 
 worst condemnation at the present day, nor does it appear justified by a 
 study of the design. 
 
 At Sangallo's death, in 1546, the control of the works fell into the 
 hands of Michael Angelo ; and although he did not and could not alter 
 either the plan or general arrangement of his predecessore to any 
 material extent, he determined at once to restrict the church to the foi-m 
 of a Greek cross, as proposed by Peruzzi and Raphael, and he left every- 
 where the impress of his giant hand upon it. It is to him that we owe 
 certainly the form of the dome, and probably the ordinance of the whole 
 of the exterior. 
 
 In spite of intrigues and changes in the administration, this great 
 man persevered in an undertaking in which his heart and his honour 
 were engaged ; and at his death, in 15G3, had, hke Brunelleschi his 
 great predecessor in dome-building, the satisfaction of seeing his dome 
 ])ractically completed ; and he left so com^ilete a model of the lantern, 
 which was all that remained unfinished, that it was afterwards completed 
 exactly as he had designed it. The only part of his design wiiich he 
 left unfinished was the eastern portico. This he proposed should be a 
 portico of ten pillars standing free, about one diameter distant from the 
 front of the fagade, and four pillars in the centre, the same distance in 
 front of these. There would have been great difficulty in constructing 
 such a portico with an " Order " exceeding 100 ft. in height ; and it is 
 feared it would have lost much of its dignity by the wall against whicli 
 it was to be placed being cut up, by niches and windows, to the extent 
 to \\hich Michael Angelo proposed should be done. Fontana,^ after his 
 death, proposed to reduce the back range of pillars to eight, leaving the 
 front four ; and made some other alterations which were far from 
 improvements. Nothing was done to cany out either design, and during 
 the pontificate of Paul V. it was suggested that the portico should be 
 carried forward to where the front now is, and a nave inserted between 
 them, restoring the building to the form of a Latin cross, as originally 
 suggested by Bramante. 
 
 This idea was finally carried into effect by Carlo Maderno,^ a veiy 
 second-class architect, in the beginning of the seventeenth century, only 
 that he was afraid to attempt a portico of free-standing colimins, and 
 plastered his against the wall, as they now stand. The annexed plan 
 (Woodcut No. 27) represents the building as it now exists. The work 
 of J\Iaderno is distinguished by a different tint from that of Michael 
 Angelo ; and the plan of the whole Basilica is also shown in outline, 
 
 ' Milizia, ' Vita <li Antonio Sangallo.' ^ Born 1543; died 1<;()7 
 
 ^ Bom 1550; died WZO.
 
 Chap, I. 
 
 ITALY: ST. PETER'S. 
 
 83 
 
 28. Elevation of ibe Western Apse of St. Peter's. Scale luu feet to 1 inch, or half the usual 
 scale for elevations. 
 
 in order that their relative dimensions and positions may be under- 
 stood. 
 
 About the year IGGl Bernini ^ added the piazza, with its circular 
 porticoes and fountains, thus completing, as we now see it, a building 
 which had been commenced more than a century and a half before 
 that time, and which, with all its faults, is not only the largest but 
 the most magnificent temple ever raised by Christians in honour of 
 their rehgion ; and was only prevented from being the most beautiful 
 by the inherent vices of the school in which it was designed. 
 
 It would be difficult, in modern times, to find names moi'c ilhis- 
 trious than those who were successively employed to carry out this 
 
 ' Born 1598; died 1680. 
 
 G 2
 
 84 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 East Front of St. Peter's. From a I'hutugrapLi. 
 
 design. Money was supplied Avithout stint, and all Europe was in- 
 terested in its completion. The best of building-stones were available 
 on the spot, and the most precious marbles were employed in its 
 decoration. Painting, sculpture, mosaics, whatever could add to its 
 richness or illustrate its uses, were all supplied by the best artists, 
 and now exist in more profusion than in any other church ; yet, with 
 all this, St. Peter's is a failure, and has not even a single defender 
 among the architectural critics of Europe. 
 
 Externally, the triapsal arrangement of three great tribunes at the 
 west end, accentuated by square masses between in the angles, and 
 surmounted by such a dome as that of St. Peter's, ought to be the 
 most beautiful that can well be conceived ; but its effect is dreadfully 
 marred by the only ornament being a gigantic Order of Corinthian 
 pilasters, 108 ft. in height from the base to the top of the cornice, and 
 surmounted by an attic of 39 ft., and with a podium or basement of
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : ST. PETER'S. 85 
 
 15 ft., making up a wall 162 ft, in height (Woodcut No. 2S). These 
 Corinthian pilasters, spaced irregularly, are repeated all round the 
 church, without eveu being varied by becoming three-quarter columns, 
 except in the eastern fagade, which cannot be seen in conjunction with 
 the rest of the clmrch. They are consequently unmeaning to the last 
 degree. A Doric or Ionic pilaster is never so offensive : the capital is 
 so unimportant in these that the pilaster becomes a mere panelling or 
 buttress to the wall ; but the great acanthus-leaves of the Corinthian 
 order, nearly 7 ft. in height, challenge attention everywhere ; and 
 when it is found that they have really no work to do, and are mere 
 useless ornament, our sense of propriety is offended. Between these 
 pilasters there are always at least two storeys of windows, the dressings 
 of which are generally in the most obtrusi^'e and worst taste ; and 
 there is still a third storey in the attic, all which added together 
 make us feel much more inclined to think that the architect has been 
 designing a palace of several storeys on a gigantic scale, and trying 
 to give it dignity by making it look like a temple, rather than that 
 what we see before us is really a great basilican hall degraded by 
 the adoption of palatial arcliitecture. We know in fact that there is 
 falsehood somewhere, and are at a loss to know in which direction it 
 lies, or by what standard of taste to judge the culprit. 
 
 In itself the dome is a very beautiful structure, both internally 
 and externally ; taking it altogether, perhaps the very best that has 
 yet been constructed. Externally, its effect is in a great measure lost, 
 from its being placed in the centre of a great flat roof, so that its 
 lower part can nowhere be properly seen except at a distance ; and 
 it nowhere groups symmetrically with the rest of the architecture 
 (Woodcut No. 29). The lengthening of the nave has added to this 
 defect, but hardly to any considerable extent, as the ground falls too 
 rapidly towards the Tiber to have allowed its base ever to be seen in 
 front ; and cutting the Gordian knot by hiding it altogether was 
 perhaps the best thing that could have been done. 
 
 It is the same defect of the introduction of an order in every 
 respect disproportioned to the size of the interior that destroys the 
 proportions of the whole. An order 100 ft. in height is by no means 
 excessive under a dome 333 ft. high internally ; and consequently the 
 temptation to use it in the particular position was so obvious, that, if 
 the interior was to be Classical, it was almost impossible to resist 
 it ; besides, it was there in perfect proportion. When, however, the 
 same order came to be carried round all the tribunes, and down 
 the nave, where the whole height was only 143 ft., the disproportion 
 became apparent, and not only dwarfed everything near it, but neces- 
 sitated the exaggeration of every detail and every ornament, to such 
 an extent as to give an air of coarseness and vulgarity to the whole, 
 to an extent hardly to be found in any other Renaissance building.
 
 86 HISTOEY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE, Book I. 
 
 It is prolxible that tlie iiitrodnctioii of this gigantic order in the 
 interior is due to Braniante, as it was adopted by Saugallo, who, 
 from his treatment of the exterior, could not have approved of it. Had 
 the former carried it out, it is evident from his plan that he would 
 have corrected its defects very considerably. Instead of the four great 
 arches, each 40 ft. wide, with his monster pilasters between each, 
 with which Maderno disfigured the nave, Bramante proposed five 
 arches with slighter piers, and might have introduced six with good 
 effect. A Gothic architect would have employed nine or ten in the 
 same space, and a Classic architect sixteen or eighteen pillars. This 
 last was, in fact, the only mode by which the whole interior could be 
 brought into harmony and good taste ; but the difficulties of their 
 employment were so great that Ave are hardly surprised that the 
 architect shrunk from the attempt to introduce them. In the first 
 place, the stone used for the exterior — wliich was the best available — 
 is so coarse-grained as to be wholly unsuited for internal piu'poses, 
 and must, if thus used, have been covered with plaster and painted 
 in imitation of marble or some other material. Xo marble or stone 
 capable of receiving a poUsh was available in such masses as were 
 required for pillars nearly 10 ft, in diameter. It is true that, if fluted 
 and covered with a fine coating of plaster, mere gilding, with 
 a slight tint of colour, would have been both in good taste and 
 appropriate, though w^anting in that grandeur which the employment 
 of a true and precious material alone can convey.^ 
 
 Supposing this difficulty of material got over, those of construction 
 were still greater. It would have required immense blocks of stone 
 to form the entablature, and these must have been fitted with great 
 skill and nicety to obtain the sohdity requisite to support the vault, 
 and they would even then hardly lend any assistance to the piers of 
 the great dome. These, it is true, are so massive they ought not to 
 require it ; l)ut the painters who erected the church were such bad 
 architects that the temptation could not be resisted to employ arches 
 to abut the piers and gi^■e them that stabihty wliich their slovenly 
 construction made necessary. 
 
 It was, in all proba])ility, these constructive difficulties that forced 
 on the arclutects of St, Peter's the present inartistic arrangements of 
 the interior ; but the one thing that would have given meaning to 
 the pilasters now existing about the piers of the dome, where they 
 are perfectly in place, would have been to suggest that they were the 
 reflex of pillars that were doing the work elsewhere," Besides this, 
 the perspective through a forest of sixty-four, or rather ninety-six, 
 great Corinthian pillars — two or three rows of sixteen on each side of 
 the nave— 80 ft. high, must have been the finest thing attempted 
 
 The present pilasters under the dome and all round tlie interior of the church 
 (ire built in rubble plastered, and coarsely painted in imitation of marble. 
 
 I
 
 CuAP. I, ITALY : ST. PETER'S. 87 
 
 since the Great Palace at Karnac, and might have surpassed in beauty 
 and grandeur even that majestic halL 
 
 The vaults themselves are of great beauty, and free from most of 
 the defects of the architecture that supports them, and so is the interior 
 of the dome, except that it is so lofty that it dwarfs the rest, and it is 
 ]»ainful to look up at it. Had it sprung from a little al)ove the main 
 cornice of the pendentives, it would have looked much larger in itself, 
 and have increased the apparent vastness of the church to a very 
 considerable extent. 
 
 Another difficulty arising from the gigantic size of the internal 
 Order as now used is, that it required a corresponding exaggeration in 
 every detail of the church. The Baldaccliino, for instance, over the altar, 
 rises to 100 ft. in height, and has an Order G2 ft. high ; but with even 
 these dimensions it is hardly tall enough for its situation. But it is 
 even worse with the sculptured details. The figures that fill the 
 spandrils of the pier arches throughout the church would, if standing 
 upright, be 20 ft. in height. The first impression they produce on 
 looking at them is, that they are little more than life-size ; and the 
 scale they consequently give to the building is that it is less than half 
 the size it really is. When the mind has grasped their real dimensions, 
 this feeling is succeeded by one almost of terror, lest they should fall 
 out of their places, the support seems so inadequate to such masses ; 
 and, what is worse, by that painful sense of vulgarity wliich is the 
 inevitable result of all such exaggerations. The excessive dimension 
 given to the Order internally is, in fact, the keynote to all the defects 
 which are now noticed in the interior of this church, and these are not 
 redeemed by the dignity that would have been given to the interior 
 had the order been used as a true columnar order in any part of the 
 church. 
 
 No church in Europe possesses so noble an atrium as is formed 
 by the great semicircular colonnades which Bernini added in front of 
 St. Peter's. These are 650 ft. across ; but their effect is very much 
 marred by their being joined to the church by two galleries, 30G ft. 
 long, sloping outwards as they approach the church. These last are in 
 consequence scarcely seen in the first approach, so that the colonnades 
 appear to be in contact with the church itself, and its size is diminished 
 l)y the apparent juxtaposition, without the device adding to the di- 
 mensions of the Order of the atrium. Had they been made to slope 
 inwards, there would have been a false perspective that would have 
 added considerably to the optical dimensions of both ; but either 
 would have been wrong, as all theatrical tricks are in true architecture. 
 The only true plan was to make them parallel to one another, and at 
 right angles to the church, when each part would have taken its proper 
 place, and each appeared in its true relative dimensions. 
 
 From whatever point of view we regard it, the study of St. Peter's
 
 88 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 30. Section of St. Peter's. T.educed from Bonanni by Rosengarten. 
 
 is one of the saddest, but at the same time one of the most instructi^•e, 
 examples in the Avhole history of Architecture. It is sad to think the 
 world's greatest opportunity should have been so thrown away, because 
 this building happened to be undertaken at a time when Architecture 
 was in a state of transition, and when painters and amateui-s were 
 allowed to try experiments in an art of which they had not acquired
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : ST. PETER'S. 89 
 
 the simplest rudiments and did not comprehend the most elementary 
 principles. Had such an opportunity fallen to the lot of the ancient 
 Egyptians, its dimensions would have secured it a greater sublimity 
 than is found even at Karnac. If Greece could have been allowed to 
 build on such a scale, the world would have been satisfied for ever 
 afterwards ; and even in India, so large a building must have been 
 exquisitely beautiful. Had it been intrusted to any dozen master 
 masons in the Middle xiges — to men it may be who could neither read 
 nor write — they would have produced a building with which it would 
 have been difficult to hnd fault ; l)ut here, all the talent, all the wealth 
 of the world have been lavished, only to produce a building whose 
 defects are apparent to every eye, and which challenges our admira- 
 tion principally from its size and the richness of its ornamentation. 
 The result has been a building which pretends to be Classical, but 
 which is essentially Gothic. It parades everywhere its Classical details, 
 but the mode in which they are applied is so essentially Mediaeval, 
 that nobody is deceived. We have two antagonistic principles warring 
 for the masteiy — the one Christian and real, the other sentimental and 
 false ; and, in spite of all the talent bestowed upon it, it must be 
 admitted that the result is a failure. It is a failure, in the first place, 
 because its details are all designed on so gigantic a scale as to dwarf 
 the building, and prevent its real dimensions ever being appreciated. 
 It fails even more because these details are not, except under the dome, 
 even apparently constructive. In almost every part, they are seen to 
 be merely appUed for the sake of ornament, and more often to conceal 
 than to accentuate the tnie construction. The pilasters, both externally 
 and internally, though the leading features, seldom accord — never on 
 the exterior — with the tiers of windows or niches between them ; and 
 the unmeaning attic that crowns the Order is in itself sufficient, in a 
 church, to throw the whole out of keeping. Nowhere, in fact, except 
 in the dome and the vaults, is there truth of either construction or 
 ornamentation ; and these elements, in consequence, interfere with one 
 another, to an extent which is probably more striking here than it is 
 elsewhere, from the scale on which it is carried out, but is in reality 
 as fatal to other buildings, which will be alluded to hereafter. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this, there is a simpHcity and grandeur about 
 the great vault of the nave, wliich goes far to redeem the bad taste of 
 the arches which support it ; and the fom" great vaults of the nave, 
 transepts, and choir, each 80 ft. in span and 150 ft. in height, opening 
 into a dome of the dimensions and beauty of proportion of that of St. 
 Peter's form together one of the most sublime architectural concep- 
 tions that the world has yet seen. There is a poetry, too, in the ever- 
 varying perspective that is afforded by the intersections of the great 
 vaults with those of the aisles that surround the piers of the dome, 
 that is unrivalled by any similar effect in any other church in Europe.
 
 90 HISTORY OF MODERN AECHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 Each t)f these aisles is 40U ft. in length, and 50 ft. in width, and 75 in 
 height, each quadrant, in fact, equal in dimension to those of the nave 
 of a Gothic cathedral, and with more pleasing proportions. These, 
 with the dome and naves, open up vistas unsm-passed for beauty and 
 variety by those of anywhere else. Had the church been restricted to 
 the Greek cross, as Michael Angelo wished it to be, we would not have 
 been offended by the faults of the nave, and its interior might have 
 been considered architecturally, as well as from its richness and dimen- 
 sions, worthy of being the principal temple of the Christian religion. 
 The truth is that, in spite of all its errors in detail, St. Peter's possesses 
 in a pre-eminent degree two of the principal elements of architectural 
 grandeur, and these to such an extent as to have rendered a failure, 
 internally at least, very difficult. Externally the size of the pilasters 
 and the disposition of the parts is such as to detract most painfully 
 from the real dimensions, but it is impossible to enter the interior 
 without being awe-struck at the vastness of the area which is unap- 
 proached by that of any stone building in the Avorld ; wliile at the 
 same time the mind is perfectly satisfied with the more than sufficient 
 stability of the whole. The great piers of the dome are practically 
 solid towers of masonry sixty feet square,^ and look as if they could 
 support ten times the mass placed upon them ; and all the other parts 
 display an equal superfluity of strength. With such dimensions as the 
 interior of St. Peter's possesses, and such massiveness aided by a 
 pleasing proportion of the parts among themselves, it would have been 
 difficult to design any details that would destroy the unrivalled 
 grandeur of its effect. It thus happens that in spite of all its faults 
 of detail, the interior of St. Peter's approaches more nearly to the 
 sublime in architectural effect than any other which the hand of man 
 has executed. Its one rival is the Hall at Karnac ; but, except in 
 propriety of detail, even that must yield the palm to the Roman 
 basihca. St. Sophia at Constantinople is more beautiful in many 
 respects, but it has neither the dimensions nor the massiveness which 
 are required to compete with St. Peter's in sublimity of effect. 
 
 [Is St. Peter's " a Failure " ? Some of the author's criticisms 
 of this cJ/ff (Vmwre of the Renaissance may surely be acknowledged to 
 be inadvertently wanting in respect for extraordinary effort. There 
 have been certain undertakings, from the Tower of Babel downwards, 
 
 > The piers that support the spire at disproportion may bo excessive, but in tlie 
 Salisbury, a building nearly equal in : one case the mind is forcibly, but pleas- 
 height to St. Peter's, and more massively ingly, impressed with the apparent eternity 
 constructed, are only 6 feet square in the of the mass; in the other it is impossible to 
 solid, and with the attached shafts only avoid a most unsatisfactory feeling of in- 
 8 feet, so that, in proportion to the piers secuiity from the too apparent frailty of the 
 at St. Peter's, they are only as 1 to 100 <Ji' structure. The one may Ijc sublime, the 
 one hundredth part of their mass The other can only be characterised as clever 
 
 J
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : ST. PETER'S. 91 
 
 in which vaulting ambition has o'erleapecl the saddle, for the sini[tle 
 reason that man with all his ambition cannot add a cubit to his stature 
 ■ — except hj getting on stilts and probably stumbling. Whether he is 
 baking bread or governing an empire, whether threading a needle or 
 building St. Peter's, a man is a thing from five to six feet long, and 
 his days are few and full of trouble. By no means unfrequently he 
 spoils the loaf, and misses the needle's eye ; he is invariably considered 
 to govern the empire badly — that is to say, not so well as his critic 
 would have done it ; and, when he builds St. Peter's, of course he 
 " fails." But is not failure glorified by the attempt ? Humanum est 
 err are ; humanity and " failure " have run together ever since the 
 world began. Think of this thing five and a half feet long, aud of 
 what it has the courage to try to do ! Better, surely, to have tried and 
 " failed," than never to have tried at all ! 
 
 The merits of St. Peter's turn upon the prodigious majesty of the 
 conception. Those who look at it now are still beings of the same 
 diminutive size that has been specified; and if their swelling imagination 
 sometimes forgets this circumstance, they ought to be reminded of it. 
 In modern architectural drawings it is a very good custom to represent 
 the human figure holding up a ten-foot rod as a reminder of the scale ; 
 let us suppose the vergers in St. Peter's to be instructed to carry some 
 corresponding instrument of admonition. The well-worn incident at the 
 Egyptian banquet, where the slave warns Pharaoh that he is mortal, 
 might serve also to warn the observant British tourist in St. Peter's that 
 the " failure," the " air of coarseness and vulgarity," the " exaggeration 
 of every detail," and so forth, are but the simple elements of that 
 particular form in which the inevitable " errare " must check the 
 moral courage of mankind, when they gird up their little loins for 
 a very big thing. The big pulls away from the beautiful, and there 
 must be a compromise. Therefore let the reader not forget to put as 
 much emphasis upon our shrewd and outspoken author's praise of St. 
 Peter's as upon his dispraise, and perhaps a little more. Criticism of 
 the detail jesthetically is an exercise for the student's individual 
 judgment ; and its success will depend upon his personal competency ; 
 the great basilica is not a fit object-lesson for beginners ; forcible 
 feebleness, it must also be remembered, is an accusation very commonly 
 brought against the artistic work of the sunny south, by critics from the 
 north ; but what our author says at the end of liis observations he says 
 well : — " In spite of all its faults of detail, the interior of St. Peter's 
 approaches more nearly to the sublime in architectural efl^ect than any 
 other which the hand of man has executed."- — Ed.]
 
 92 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 ni— Churches subsequent to St. Petee's. 
 The chiu-ch of San Giovanni Laterano ranks next in importance to 
 St Peter's amon-- the chnrches of Rome ; and next in size if we omit 
 the old basiUca of St. Paul's, hnrnt down in 1828. Havmg been erected 
 as lately as the tenth century, as a five-aisled basilica, it does not seem 
 to have been in so decayed a state as to necessitate its being entirely 
 
 View of the lateral I'urch of San Giovanni LatL-ran 
 
 rebuilt, as was the case with St. Peter's ; but it has been so encrusted 
 with modern additions, that it requires the keen eye of an antitiuary to 
 detect the ancient framework that underlies the modern accretions. 
 
 The first important addition that ^\'as made was that of a portico U) 
 the northern transept, by Domenico Foiiunia,^ in 158G (Woodcnit No. 
 31). It consists of five arcades of the Doric order below, surmounted 
 
 > ' Eilifices de Kome Moacriie,' M. Paris, 1810. 
 - Bom 15i3 ; difd 1(JU7.
 
 CriAP. 1. ITALY : CHURCHES SUBSEQUENT TO ST. TETER'S. 93 
 
 by a similar series of the Corinthian order above. There is nothiii.u' 
 either striking or original in the design, being a mere modification of 
 the arrangements of the old amphitheatre ; bnt it is elegant and in 
 good taste ; and, if we are prepared to forego all evidence of thonght, 
 or anything to mark the feehngs of the age, there is no fault to find 
 with it. Its proportions are good, its details elegant, and its design 
 
 Principal Fai/ade of the CliurcU of San Giovanni Laterauo. liuiii LctaruuiUy. 
 
 appropriate to the purposes to which it is applied. In an age which 
 was enamoured with Classical forms, it must have appeared a type of 
 High Art. Even if its architect was not as enthusiastic a Revivalist 
 as his employers, he must at all events have l)een content with the 
 amount of fame he attained with so little expenditure of thought. 
 Though this porch may not exhibit the highest quanty of design, its 
 architect deserves great credit, considering the age in which he lived, 
 for introducing no more instances of l)ad taste than it displays.
 
 94 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 and adheriiifi' so strictly to the Classical forms he was tryiiio- to 
 emulate. 
 
 The principal front of the chm'ch retained its primitive simplicity 
 for more than a century and a half after that time, when the present 
 fagade was added to it by Alessandro Galilei ^ in 1734 (Woodcut 
 No. 32) ; and, considering the age when it was built, it too must be 
 considered a model of good taste and propriety, more especially if we 
 look inside the church and see with what frightfully bad taste it 
 had been disfigured by Borromiui in IGGO. That probably was the 
 worst period of Roman Art, and it was with something like a return 
 to a more correct appreciation of the Classic styles that Galilei's 
 fagade was designed. It was no doubt a mistake to place the principal 
 Order on such high pedestals ; and the usual excuse for tliis arrange- 
 ment was wanting here ; for the secondary Order is so small as to be 
 merely an ornament to the windows and openings, and does not com- 
 pete in any way with the main features. The balustrade on the top 
 is too high, and the figures it supports too large ; but it is, on the 
 whole, a picturesque and imposing piece of architectural decoration, 
 with more ingenuity and more feeling than almost any other Italian 
 design of its age ; and, considering that it was essential that there 
 should be an upper gallery, from which the Pope might deliver his 
 blessing, some of its defects could with difficulty have been avoided. 
 
 The same architect designed the Corsini Chapel attached to this 
 church ; and, though a little overdone in ornament, the design is well 
 understood and appropriate, and is in singularly good taste and elegant, 
 when viewed in conjunction with the capricious interior of the chiu'ch 
 to which it is attached. 
 
 IV. — BojiicAL Churches. 
 
 The admiration excited by the great domical creations of Brunel- 
 leschi and Michael Angelo fixed that form as the fashionable one in 
 Italy ; and no great church was afterwards erected in which the dome 
 does not form a prominent feature in the design. In some instances the 
 dome or domes were the church. 
 
 One of the best knoAvii examples of this is the Santa Maria della 
 Salute, on the Grand Canal at Venice, built by Baldassare Longhena - 
 in 1632, according to a decree of the Senate, as a votive offering to tlie 
 Virgin for having stayed the plague which devastated the city in 
 1630. Considering the age in which it was erected, it is singularly 
 pure, and it is well adapted to its site, showing its principal facade to 
 the (irand Canal, while its two domes and two bell-towers group most 
 pleasingly in every point of view from which Venice can l)e entered on 
 that side. Externally it is open to the criticism of being rathei- over- 
 
 ' Born 1(;91; died 1737. - Born 1602; diod UkS2.
 
 Chap. I. 
 
 ITALY : DOMICAL CHUECHES. 
 
 95 
 
 loaded with decoration ; but there is very little of even this that is 
 unmeanino-, or put there merely for the sake of ornament. Thouu'li it 
 certainly is a defect, yet, taking it altogether there are few bnildings ol' 
 its class in Italy whose exterior is so satisfactory as this one is. 
 Internally the great dome is only 65 ft. in diameter, Imt it is surrounded 
 by an aisle, or rather by eight side chapels 
 opening into it through the eight great 
 pier arches ; making the whole floor of 
 this, which is practically the nave of the 
 church, 107 ft. in diameter. One of 
 these side chapels is magnified into a 
 dome, 42 ft. in diameter, with two semi- 
 domes, forming the choir, and beyond 
 this is a small scpiare chapel ; an arrange- 
 ment which is altogether faulty and very 
 unpleasing. As you enter the main door, 
 the great arches of the dome being all 
 equal to one another, no one of them 
 indicates the position of the choir ; and 
 in moving about, it requires some time to 
 discover where the entrance and where 
 the sanctuary are placed. Besides 
 going from a larger dome to a smaller — 
 from greater splendour to less — ought always to be avoided. In fact, if 
 the church were turned round, and the altar placed where the entrance 
 is, it would be a far more satisfactory building. As it is, neither the 
 beauty of the material of which it is built, nor the elegance of its details, 
 can redeem the radical defects of its internal design, which destroy what 
 otherwise might be considered a very beautiful church. 
 
 The church of San Simone Minore, also in the Grand Canal, is a 
 building very similar in plan, but open to exactly the opposite criticism 
 of being too simple. The church itself, as seen from the canal, is a 
 plain circular mass, surmounted by an enormous dome 56 ft. in dia- 
 meter internally, which utterly crushes what is one of the most beautiful 
 Corinthian porticoes of this or any other modern building. It is har- 
 monious in proportion, and singularly bold in its features, from the 
 strength of the square pillars that support its angles ; while generally 
 a beauty of detail and arrangement characterises every part of its 
 design. 
 
 As an example how bad it is possible for a design of this sort to be 
 without having any faults which it is easy to lay hold of, we may take 
 the much-praised church of the Carignano at Genoa. It was bnilt by 
 Galeasso Alessi.^ one of the most celebrated architects of Italv. the friend 
 
 this ^^' PI"" of the Church della Salute at Veuice, 
 ' Scale 100 ft. to 1 in. From Clcognara. 
 
 1 Born 1.500; died 1572.
 
 96 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURP:. 
 
 Book 1. 
 
 View of the Dogaua and Church della Salute, Venice. From Canaletti. 
 
 of Michael Angelo and Saiigallo, and the architect to whom Genoa 
 owes its architectural splendour, as much as Vicenza owes hers to 
 Palladio, or the City of London to Wren. 
 
 The church is not large, being only 1G5 ft. square, and the dome 
 46 ft. in internal diameter. It has four towers at the four angles, and, 
 when seen at a distance, these five principal features of the roof group 
 pleasingly together. But the great window in the tympanum, and 
 the two smaller semicircular windows on each side, are most unpleasing ; 
 neither of them has any real connexion with the design, and yet they 
 are the principal features of the whole ; and the prominence given to 
 pilasters and panels instead is most unmeaning. If we add to this 
 that the details are all of the coarsest and vulgarest kind, the mate- 
 rials plaster and bad stone, and the colours introduced crude and 
 inharmonious, it will be understood how low architectural taste had 
 sunk when and where it was built. The strange thing is, that critics at
 
 Chap. I. 
 
 ITALY: DOMICAL CHUECHES. 
 
 97 
 
 35. Elevation of principal Facade of the Church of Carignano at Genoa. From Gauthier. 
 
 the present day should be content to rei^eat praise which, though excus- 
 able at the time it was erected, is intolerable when the principles of 
 the art are better understood ; for it would be difficult in all Italy, or 
 indeed in any other country, to find a church so utterly devoid of beauty, 
 either in design or in detail, as this one is. Its situation, it is true, is 
 very grand, and it groups in consequence well wdth the city it crowns ; 
 Viut all this only makes more apparent the fault of the architect, who 
 misapplied so grand an opportunity in so discreditable a manner. 
 
 One of the least objectionable domical churches of Italy is the 
 Superga, near Turin, built by Ivara, in fulfilment of a vow made by 
 Victor Amadeus at the siege of Turin, in 1706. Its dome is little more 
 than 60 ft. in diameter, resting on an octagon, with a boldly project- 
 ing portico of four Corinthian columns in front over the entrance, and 
 is joined to a cloister behind. This is very cleverly arranged, so as 
 to give size and importance to wiiat otherwise would be a small 
 
 ' ' Lcs plus beaux Edifices de la Ville de Genes,' fbl. Paris, 1S1S-18.S1. 
 VOL. r. H
 
 98 
 
 llISTOliY OF MODERN AKCHITECTURE. 
 
 EOOK I. 
 
 elmrcli ; but in doing this tlic church and the convent are so mixed 
 up together that it is difficult to tell where one hegius and the other 
 cuds ; and, as is too frequently the case with these buildings, the false- 
 liood is so a]iparent that both parts suffer. 
 
 One of the last, though it must also be coufcsscd one of the very 
 worst, examples of a domical church in Italy, is that of San Carlo at 
 Milan, the foundation of which was laid as lately as 18^8. The archi- 
 tect of the building was the same Araati who so strangely disfigured 
 the facade of the cathedral of the same city in Napoleon's time. The 
 l)ailding deserves the careful study of every architect, inasmuch as, 
 copying the best models, using the correctest details and the most 
 costly materials, the designer has managed to produce one of the most 
 
 Cliui-ili Ml biiu C'.al.. ;,l .M1I..11. I loiii .1 l'ii._|o-i,n.i, 
 
 unsatisfactoi-y Imildings in Knr()]>e. Internally it is meant to l)c a 
 copy of the Pantheon at Rome, this being lO;") ft. in diameter and 120 in 
 height ; but, instead of the subUmity of the one great eye of the dome, 
 there is in the Milanese example only an insignificant lantern, and 
 light is inti'oduced through the walls by meaTi-looking windows, 
 scattered here and there round the l)uilding, and in two storeys. 
 Notwithstanding that it possesses internally twenty-two monolithic 
 colnnms of beautiful Baveno marble, and some good sculpture, the 
 whole is thin, mean, and cold, to an extent seldom found anywhere 
 else. 
 
 Externally the design is as bad. A portico of thirty-six Corinthian 
 columns is ari'angcd pretty much as in that of the British Museum.
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : BASILICAN CHURCHES — EXTERIORS. 99 
 
 Each of these is u moiioHth of iniirl)le i) ft. in circiinifereiice, niid the 
 capitals and entablature are faultless ; but the central ])oitico is crashed 
 into insignificance by the dome of the church, which rises, like a great 
 dish-cover, behind it ; and the wings are destroyed by having houses 
 built behind them, with three storeys of Avindows under the porticoes 
 and three more above them, so arranged as to compete with, and as far 
 as possible destroy, any little dignity the dome itself might possess. 
 
 However painful the coarseness and vulgarity of Alessi and Ivara 
 may have been, their w^orks are after all preferable to the tame and un- 
 meaning Classicality of such a design as this, and which, unfortunately, 
 is found also in Canova's chui'ch at Possagno, and is but too charac- 
 teristic, not only of the architecture, but of all the Arts in Italy at the 
 ])resent day. 
 
 So enamoured Avere the Italians with their success in the employ- 
 ment of the dome, that all their great churches of the Renaissance 
 })artake more or less of this ((uasi-Byzantine type. Xot oidy did it 
 afford space and give dignity to the interior, l)ut it gave to these l)ui]d- 
 ings externally an elevation which their architects were otherwise 
 unable to supi)ly. We, who are famihar with the northern Gothic of 
 the Middle Ages, know how gracefully the spire was fitted to the church 
 in every position ; either as growhig out of the intersection of the nave 
 and transepts, or as twin guardians of the portal of the cathedral en' 
 minster, or as the shigle heavenward-pointing feature of the western 
 j'ront of the parish church. But the Italians knew nothing of this. In 
 nine cases out of ten their campaniles were detached from the edifices to 
 which they belonged, or, if joined to them, it Avas never as an integral 
 or essential part of the design ; and so far from giving height and 
 dignity to the whole, it only tended to dwarf the church, and did this 
 at the exi)ense of its oAvn eleA^ation. Tlie dome, on the other hand, did 
 for the Italian church Avhat the spire did for the Gothic. It not only 
 marked the sacred character of the edifice externally, but it raised it 
 Avell aboA'e the houses, and added that elevation whicli, in towns sit 
 least, is so indispensable to architectural dignity. 
 
 V. — Basilican Churches — Exterioijs. 
 
 As most of the Italian churciies were situated in tlie streets of 
 towns, where only the entrance facades are exposed, it was to them 
 that the attention of the architects Avas principally dii'ccted, and, not 
 knowing the art of using the steeple to give dignity to these, they 
 tried by richness of ornament to cover the defects of the design. 
 
 On this side of the Alps the parish church almost always stands 
 free in its churchyard, the cathedral in its close, and every side of 
 these buildings is consecpiently seen ; so tliat it becomes necessary to 
 make eveiy part ornamental, and in most cases the east end and the 
 
 H •>
 
 100 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Fxh.k I. 
 
 Clnivih of San Zaccarin, VeDice. From a Pliotngrapb. 
 
 flanks are as carefully designed, and sometimes even more beautiful, 
 than the fa§ade itself. In italy it is hardly possil)le to quote a single 
 instance in which, diu^ing the Renaissance period, either the apse or 
 the flanks of an ordinary basilican church are treated ornamentally. 
 All the art is lavished on the facade, and, in consequence of its not 
 being returned along the sides, the whole design has, far too generally, 
 an air of untruthfulness, and a want of completeness, which is often 
 very offensive. 
 
 One of the finest of the early fa9ades of Italy is that of San Zac- 
 caria at Venice. The church was commenced in 144:6, and internally 
 shows Pointed arches and other peculiarities of that date. The fa9ade 
 seems to have been completed about ITjIo, and though not so splendid
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : BASILICAN CHURCHES — EXTERIORS. 
 
 101 
 
 as that of the Certosa at Pa via (Woodcut No. 22) and some of the 
 more elaborate designs of the previous century, it is not only purer in 
 detail, Irat reproduces more correctly the internal arrangements of the 
 church. Though its dimensions are not greater than those of an ordi- 
 nary Palladian front, the number and smallness of the parts make it 
 api^ear infinitely larger, and, all the Classical details being merely 
 subordinate ornaments, there is no falsehood or incongruity anywhere ; 
 while, the practical constructive lines being preserved, the whole has a 
 unity and dignity we miss so generally in subseiiuent buildings. Its 
 greatest defect is perhaps 
 the circular form given to 
 the pediment of the central 
 and side aisles, which does 
 not in this instance express 
 the form of the roof. The 
 curvilinear roof is, however, 
 by no means unusual in 
 Venice, and in the nearly 
 contemporary church of 
 Sta. Maria dei Miracoli 
 (1480-89) the circular roof 
 still exists, and the fagade 
 is surmounted by a semi- 
 circular gable like this, but 
 there following the exact 
 lines of the roof, and in the 
 School of St. Mark's and 
 many other buildings this 
 form is also found ; so 
 that, though it may appear 
 somewhat unusual and 
 strange to us, it was 
 familiar to the Venetians 
 of that day. They, in fact, 
 Ijorrowed it with so many 
 other features of their Art 
 from the Byzantines, with 
 
 whom it had always been in use, and represented correctly the exterior 
 of their vaults. But a further excuse for its introduction here is, that, 
 as the design of these fagades in Italy is never returned along the sides, 
 the roofs form no part of the composition, and their form was 
 consequently generally neglected. 
 
 One of the first difficulties which the architects encountered in 
 using the Orders was to express the existence of side aisles as a 
 part of the design. The most obvious way was to make the fagade 
 
 38. Church of the Redentore. Reduced from Cicognara by 
 Rosengarten.
 
 102 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 in two storeys, as was very generally done on this side of the Alps, 
 and by the Jesuits everywhere, and as had been already suggested 
 by xllberti at Rimini (Woodcut No. 14) in the fifteenth century. It 
 was, however, felt by the architects of the following epoch that this 
 was sacrificing the great central aisle to the subordinate parts of the 
 church, and suggesting two storeys, when in fact there was only one. 
 The difficulty was boldly met by Palladio, in the fagade he added to the 
 Church of 8an Francesco della Vigna at Venice, which is one of his 
 most admired comjtositions : but the great Order so completely 
 overpowers the smaller, that the result is almost as unpleasing as 
 in St. Peter's at Rome. Nearly the same thing is observable in the 
 church of the Redentore ; but in this instance, there being jH-actically 
 no side aisles to the church, the little lean-tos on each side do not 
 obtrude themselves to the same extent, and may be practically dis- 
 regarded ; so that the design as seen directly in front is confined to the 
 
 four j)i liars of the portico, 
 and the Order belonging 
 to the entrance, which is 
 also that of the side aisles. 
 When, however, the flanks 
 of this church are seen 
 in conjunction with the 
 fagade, the defects of the 
 design are painfully mani- 
 fest, and the incongruity 
 of the two Orders becomes 
 everywhere apparent. In 
 order to avoid these de- 
 fects, Palladio hit upon 
 the expedient so much 
 admired in his celebrated 
 church of San Giorgio 
 Maggiore in the same city. By placing the larger Order on 
 pedestals, and Ininging the subordinate Order down to the floor-hne, 
 he rendered the disproportion between them so much less glaring that 
 the effect is certainly as pleasing as it can well be expected to be.^ 
 The real fact is, however, everywhere apparent, that the Orders are 
 intractable for purjwses they were never designed to subserve ; and 
 when an architect is bound to use only pillars of ten diametera, and to 
 use these for all the purposes of internal and external decoration, he 
 has forged fetters for himself from which no ingenuity has yet been 
 able to set him free. 
 
 Unfortunately for the Arts of Italy at this age, the influence of 
 Michael Angelo was supreme, and continued so during the whole of the 
 sixteenth century. Even Raphael, his great rival, seems to have bowed 
 
 Cburcb of San Criorgio 'Maggioro, Veiiic/-. From Cicognara.
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : BASILICAN CHURCHES — EXTERIOUS. lOo 
 
 to it, and, if he had lived twenty years longer, would probably have 
 been obliged to paint the meek Saviour of the Christians as a Hercules, 
 and the Virgin as an Amazon, in order to keep pace with the taste of 
 the day. Though Palladio's was a far gentler and more elegant mind 
 than Michael Angelo's, he too could not escape the contagion, even if he 
 had been inclined. What the latter had done at St. Peter's and else- 
 where, was the standard of the day. Too impetuous to be controlled by 
 construction, and too impatient to work out details, he had sought by 
 bigness to excite astonishment, and mistook exaggeration for sublimity. 
 His colossal Order of pilasters at St. Peter's, though astonishing from its 
 size, is humiliating from its vulgarity ; but it pleased his age, as his 
 paintings and his sculpture had done. Every artist was obliged to 
 paint up to his scale, and every architect felt himself bound to use as 
 large an Order as his building would admit of, and seems to have 
 HC(|uiesced in the mistaken doctrine that largeness of details was pro- 
 ductive of grandeur in the mass. Palladio was therefore probably not 
 so much to blame if his age demanded, as it seems to have done, his 
 employment of these large features on his facades. If he employed 
 them, it was indisjxjusable that he should also introduce a smaller Order 
 to represent the aisles and minor parts of the design ; and if he did not 
 succeed in harmonising these two perfectly, he has at least been as 
 successful in this as anyone else, and in all Ms details there is an 
 elegance whicli charms, and a feeling of constructive propriety which 
 makes itself felt, even in the most incongruous of his designs. 
 
 Subsequently to the Palladian jjeriod, architects were therefore 
 hardly to blame when they agreed to return to the earlier practice, and 
 to use the Orders merely as ornaments. As the bright climate of Italy 
 enabled them to dispense with windows in their fagades whenever they 
 thought it expedient to do so, they met what they conceived to be all 
 the exigencies of the case when they designed such a fa9ade as that of 
 the church of S. Maria Zobenico at Venice, built by G. Sardi in 1G80, 
 where the Orders, though more important than at San Zaccaria (Wood- 
 cut No. 37), are still mere ornaments, but so much more important than 
 in that church as to become practically independent of the construction, 
 and to produce a far less pleasing effect. It must also be confessed that 
 the ornamentation is here overdone, and not always in the best taste ; 
 but, taken for what it is— merely an ornamental screen in front of a 
 church — it is a very l^eautiful and charming composition. 
 
 Without attempting to enumerate the variety of facades of more or 
 less beauty which are found facing the streets in all the great cities of 
 Italy, those just described may be taken as types of them : — San 
 Zaccaria represents the facades of the fifteenth century, when Classical 
 elegance was introduced without being hampered with Classical forms ; 
 San Giorgio is one of the best examples of the Classical school of the 
 sixteenth century, when a more literal system of co})ying was introduced
 
 104 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 Cbvtrch ol Sta. Maria Zob^nico, Vtmce. From Caualetti. 
 
 by Palladio and his contemporaries ; and the church of Zobenico is a 
 fine example of the reaction against the restraints of the purer style, 
 which characterised the seventeenth century. The misfortune is, that 
 this last foi-m lent itself only too easily to the caprices of the Borrominis, 
 Guarinis, and men of that class, and the Jesuits in particular abused its 
 freedom to an extent that is often very offensive ; but, notwithstanding- 
 all this, the richness of the fa9ades of this style is always attractive, and 
 in spite of bad taste we are frequently forced to admire what our more 
 sober judgment would lead us to condemn.
 
 Chai'. I. ITALY : BASILICAN CHURCHES^INTERIORS. 105 
 
 [The Facade of Sta, Maria Zobenico. — The author puts the case 
 of this composition correctly when he describes it as "merely an 
 ornamental screen in front of a church ; " and the reader may be asked to 
 make it from this point of view a study in criticism. How far is it in 
 accord with the true spirit of artistic architecture to put a " screen " of 
 this kind "in front of" a building, which otherwise might, could, 
 would, or should develop a " front " of its own, essentially and unmis- 
 takably its own, as part of itself, just as a man's face is part of his head, 
 and a mask only a mask ? That the fagade before us is most character- 
 istically and avowedly, indeed demonstratively, a mask, is obvious ; and 
 a very pretty mask it is in its way. Given a gable wall with one door- 
 way in the middle ; and, subject to these most simple of all conditions, 
 the designer is left absolutely to his own devices. Now when we look at 
 the result and say designer, ought we to say architect ; and when we say 
 devices, ought we to say artistic treatment ? Do not regard merely the 
 Rococo or gingerbread style ; the columns without columnar work to do, 
 the broken-up ental>latures, the broken-np podium, the broken-up 
 pediment, the bolster-friezes, the sliding statuary, and so on ; suppose 
 the composition to be so far re-modelled throughout as to be in whatever 
 refined form of Classic detail the reader may prefer. Let us even 
 suppose the work to be executed in terra-cotta as a special excuse for 
 making a " screen " of it, say a mask " in front of a church " in a 
 brick -built London street ; then how far is it admissible as good art ? 
 A great deal may be said upon this question ; so much so that there is 
 no harm in so leaving it as an exercise for the student-reader. The 
 "true principles of Gothic architecture," in Pugin's reading of them, 
 would pull the mind very strongly in one direction ; the practice of the 
 fashionable " Queen Anne " style, for example, would pull equally 
 strongly in another. Is " Queen Anne " work or Flemish Eococo 
 naturally screen-work ? Does thoroughly good Gothic repudiate such 
 screen-work ? Is the screen-work of the Bank of England right or 
 wrong? At any rate, it is by no means a discredit to the government of 
 " Ars Regina " that her subjects are allowed a good deal of latitude in 
 many other questions besides this, and that their efforts to do her honour 
 are encouraged in many forms which do not always accord. And if 
 discord sometimes arises, and even gets heated, so let it be. — Ed.] 
 
 VI. — Basilican Churches — Interiors. 
 
 In their interiors the Italian architects were hardly so fortunate as 
 in their exteriors. The Classical Orders were originally designed by the 
 Greeks for the external decoration of temples ; and although the 
 Romans afterwards employed them internally, it was generally with 
 considerable modifications. In the great halls of their baths, which 
 were what the Italian architects generally strove to copy, they introduced 
 the fragment of an entablature over a column, but only as a bracket
 
 JOG 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 when the i)illrtr was placed aii'ainst the wall 
 
 41. Interior of San Giorgio Maggior?, Veuice. From Sel 
 
 never when it was standing 
 free, where alone its use is 
 objectionable. Their ar- 
 chitects were fast getting 
 rid of all traces of the 
 entablature when the style 
 perished ; and it cannot 
 but be considered as most 
 unfortunate that the 
 Cin(|ue-cento architects 
 should have reintroduced 
 it for internal purposes. 
 
 As a general rule, the 
 interiors of the Renaissance 
 churches are cold and un- 
 meaning ; or, if these de- 
 fects are obviated, it is, as 
 at St. Peter's, at the ex- 
 pense not only of the 
 simplicity but of the pro- 
 priety of the architectural 
 v„tico.i \ . -' 
 design. 
 
 The earlier examples all fail from the infrequency and tenuity of 
 the point of support. At San Zaccaria, for in- 
 stance, the nave is divided from the side aisles 
 by three tall arches, supported on two tall 
 octagonal pillars, so thin, and apparently so 
 weak, as to give a starved look to the whole. 
 The same defect is observed in the Gothic 
 cathedral of Florence, and generally in all 
 Italian Mediie\'al churches. Their architects 
 thought that they had done enough when they 
 had met the engineering difficulties of the case, 
 and had provided a support mechanically suffi- 
 cient to carry the vault of the roof. They 
 never perceived the artistic value of numerous 
 points of support, nor the importance of super- 
 abundant strength in producing a satisfactory 
 architectural effect. Notwithstanding this defect, 
 the Cinque-cento construction was always truth- 
 ful, and, so far, more pleasing than that of the 
 42. I'l^n of ciiurch of r.pdoii- subscqueut age, when the most prominent parts 
 
 tore, Venice. From Cieognara. (■ , n i • ' ,, it i r i-p l ^ 
 
 Scale 100 feet to 1 incii. 01 the dcsigu wcrc generally added tor eiiect only. 
 
 ' ' Sulla Ardiilettiira c siiUa Sciiltura in Vciiezia,' 8vo. Venice, 1817.
 
 Chap. I. ITALY: BASILICAN CHURCHES— INTERIORS. 
 
 107 
 
 One of the most suceessfal interiors of the age is generally 
 admitted to be that of San Giorgio Maggiore at Venice, l)y Palladio. 
 In this he has adopted the same device as in the exterior (Woodcnt 
 No. 41), by placing the larger Order on pedestals, and thus 
 preventing such a discrepancy of size as Avould be fatal to either ; 
 but with" all this the decoration is unmeaning, and the principal 
 Order is felt to be useless. The mode also in which the clerestory 
 windows cut into the vault is most unpleasing, and none of the parts 
 seem as if they were designed for the purposes to which they are 
 applied. 
 
 His other celebrated church is that of the 
 Redentore, close l)y, on the Canal of the 
 Giudecca. The nave is a great hall (Woodcut 
 No. 42), 50 ft. wide by Kio in length, with 
 narrow side-chapels, between which ranges a 
 Corinthian Order, of great beauty in itself, and 
 standing on the floor without pedestals. It is 
 merely an ornament, however, and has no archi- 
 tectural connexion with the plain flat elliptical 
 vault of the church, which is most disagreeably 
 cut into by the windows that give light to the 
 nave. A worse defect of the design is that, 
 instead of the church expanding at the inter- 
 section, the supports of the dome actually 
 contract it ; and though the dome is of the 
 same width as the nave, and has a semicircular 
 tribune on each side, the arrangement is such 
 that it looks smaller and more contracted than 
 the nave that leads to it. If we add to . these 
 
 T J. , e T ■ ii i 1 ii 1 1 , n 43- Plan of Sta. Anuunciiti at 
 
 detects of design that, botli here and at 8an Genoa. Scaie luo feet to i inch. 
 Giorgio, no marble or colour is used^ — nothing 
 
 l)ut plain cold stone and whitewash — it will be understood how very 
 unsatisfactory these interiors are, and how disappointing, after all the 
 praise that has been lavished on them. 
 
 These defects are more apparent perhaps in Venice than they would 
 be elsewhere, many of the churches of that city, as of Genoa, being 
 internally rich beyond conception, with marbles of extreme rarity and 
 beauty. In such churches as that of the Jesuits or the Barefooted Friars 
 at Venice, or Sant' Ambrogio at Genoa, the criticism of the architect 
 must give way to the feelings of the painter, and we must be content to 
 be charmed by the richness of the colouring, and astonished at the 
 wonderful elaboration of the details, without inquiring too closely whether 
 or not it is all in the best taste. 
 
 The only church that fairly escapes this reproach is that of the 
 Sta. Annunciata at Genoa, built at the sole expense of the Lomellini
 
 ]08 
 
 HISTORY OF MODEEN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 44. View of the Interior of the Church of Sta. Aununciata, Genoa. Frun Gauthier. 
 
 family, it is said, towards the end of the seventeenth century ;^ though 
 how a church so pure in design came to be executed then is by 
 no means clear. This church is a basilica of considerable dimensions, 
 being 82 ft. wide, exclusi\-e of the side chapels, and 25U feet long. 
 The nave is separated from the aisles by a range of Corintluan columns 
 of white marble, the fluting being inlaid with marbles of a warmer 
 colour. The walls throughout, from the entrance to the apse, are 
 co^■ered Avith precious marbles, arranged in patterns of great beauty. 
 The roof of the nave is divided transvei-sely into three compartments, 
 which prevents the awkwardness that is usually obser\ed where uindoAys 
 of a semicircular form cut into a semicircular A'ault. Here it is done as 
 
 ' Milizia ascribes the design to Puget. Born 1622 ; died 1C94.
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : BASILKJAN lIHURCHES — INTERIORS. 109 
 
 artistically as it could be done in the best Gothic vaults. The one 
 defect that strikes the eye is that the hollow lines of the Corinthian 
 capitals are too weak to support the pier-arches, though this criticism 
 is equally applicable to all the original Eoman basilicas of the Con- 
 stantinian age ; but, nevertheless, the whole is in such good taste, so 
 rich and so elegant, that it is probably the very best church of its class 
 in Italy. ^ 
 
 At Padua there are two xevj large and very fine churches — the 
 cathedral and the now desecrated church of Sta. Giustina — both of the 
 great age of the sixteenth century, and completed — in so far at least as 
 their interiors are concerned — upon one uniform original design. In 
 dimensions also they exceed almost any other churches of their age, 
 excepting, of course, St. Peter's ; and their proportions are generally 
 good. But with all this it would be difficult to point out any similar 
 buildings producing so little really good artistic effect. Tliis arises 
 from the extreme plainness, it may almost be said rudeness, of their 
 details, which are all too large and too coarse for internal purposes, and 
 repeated over and over again without any variation throughout their 
 interiors. As works of engineering science they might be called good 
 and appropriate examples, but as works of architecture they fail, 
 ])rincipal]y because, though it cannot be denied that their design is 
 ornamenljal, it is not ornamented. Their outline is grand and well 
 ]M'oportioned, though monotonous ; but they want that grace, that 
 elegance of detail, which would bring them within the province of 
 Architecture as a Fine Art, and without which a building remains in the 
 domain of the engineer or builder. 
 
 One of the most important and, it may be added, most successful 
 efforts made recently by the Italians in this direction, has been the 
 rebuilding of the Great Basilica of St. Paul without the walls. As 
 mentioned in a previous volume,^ the original church was destroyed 
 by fire in 1823, when most of the marble columns were so calcined by 
 the heat that they could not again be used. Under these circumstances, 
 the authorities wisely determined, instead of attempting to reproduce 
 the old building, as we should certainly have done in this country, 
 though the result could only have been a forgery and a sham, to rebuild 
 the edifice from the foundation, retaining only the site and the exact 
 dimensions of the old Basilica. 
 
 For this purpose they procured 80 monolithic columns of a very 
 beautiful granite from Baveno, which takes a perfect polish, and to 
 each of these was added a carefully sculptured Corinthian capital of 
 
 ' Within the last few years the whole 
 of this interior has been re-gilt and re- 
 painted, probably more J?;iily than was 
 originally intended ; and it coiitcquently 
 is just now deficient in that solemnity 
 
 we naturally look for in a religious 
 edifice; but these are defects whicli 
 time will cure, and meanwhile are by 
 no means inhei'ent in the design. 
 
 - ' History of Architecture,' vol. i. 308.
 
 UO HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I, 
 
 fine white marl)le. Above these are a range of Ijusts in mosaic, and 
 over them again a clerestory of tasteful design, and admitting a 
 pleasing proportion of light. The only parts of the old building that 
 remain are the triumphal arch, the mosaics of which are either those 
 of the old church or copied from them, and the apse with its mosaics. 
 The old Baldacchino^ also retains its place under the very graceful new 
 one, which is adorned with four very beautiful columns of Oriental 
 alabaster, presented by the Pasha of Egypt. All this is in exquisite 
 taste, and the old parts retained are just sufficient to remind you of 
 the existence of the old church, without interfering with the harmony 
 of the new. 
 
 Under these circumstances we are enabled in this instance to judge 
 much more fairly and dispassionately regarding this style of archi- 
 tecture than we could in respect of its predecessor. There the associa- 
 tions with the time of Constantine, and the uninterrupted service which 
 had continued during the vicissitudes of the succeeding fifteen centuries, 
 wliich could hardly fail to impress the imagination ; while the beautiful 
 columns, torn it is said from the mausoleum of Hadrian, and the copies 
 of them executed by the founder of the church, and all the additions and 
 alterations of the Middle Ages, mixed history and archaiology with 
 our other impressions, and prevented a calm view being taken of its 
 purely artistic merits. As it stands, all that wealth and art ca^ do for a 
 l)uilding of this size has been done, and we are enabled to appreciate its 
 merits and defects without any disturbing elements, and, on the whole, 
 the result seems to b3 against this style as suitable for the building of 
 Basilican churches. 
 
 The first and radical defect of the design is the immense dispro- 
 portionate width of the central nave — 80 feet by 290 in length — which 
 dwarfs not only the pillars on either side, but all the other proportions, 
 to a most disagreeable extent. To make it higher would be only to 
 make the pillars look still smaller ; to make it longer would only 
 increase its monotony. Santa Maria Maggiore^ is better, because, with 
 a similar disposition on either hand, it is only 60 feet mde. But the 
 real remedy was that adopted l)y the Mediseval architects at Pisa, 
 where, with similar pillars and arcades, the width of the central aisle 
 is under 40 feet, and the height 100 feet. This would have given the 
 aisles and all the parts their proper relative value, but it would no 
 longer have been a Coustantiniau Basilica. 
 
 Another defect is the prosaic squareness of tlie section. If every 
 pilaster of the clerestory were replaced by a bold bracket in wood, or 
 some more permanent material, it would relieve this. But the real 
 remedy would be for every third pillar to be doubled laterally, and 
 one — perhaps taller than the others — to stand forward to receive a 
 
 ' Interesting as one of those objects I Memorial in HyJe Park, 
 wiiicli sxiggcytedtliedesignof the Albert | - 'Hictoryof Architecture,' vul.i. p. 3(;;t.
 
 Chap I. ITALY : BASILICAN CHURCHES— INTEI^IOT^S. 
 
 Ill 
 
 45. Church of .St. Paul's outside the walls, as recentlj- rebuilt. From a I'huti 'graph. 
 
 great ornamented semicircular rili to span the nave and support tlie 
 roof. This would give the variety and perspective wanted, but it 
 would not redeem the want of height. 
 
 A very disagreeable effect is also produced from the transept being 
 of a totally different design from the nave, and consequently the point 
 where they meet not only does not harmonise and carry on the lines 
 of the nave, but it misses all that poetry of perspective which makes 
 this part of a Mediaeval cathedral so fascinating. 
 
 These defects of design are sufficient to account for the disappoint- 
 ment this class of buildings produces both at Eome and Munich, or 
 wherever they can be studied apart from associations ; and they are 
 such as it is feared are inherent in the design, and cannot l»e removed 
 by any richness or beauty of detail. If this is so, it is in vain to 
 expect that basihcas of this class can produce the grandeur and poetry 
 of effect that is produced by the nave of St. Peter's, in spite of all its 
 defects of detail, or that a church of this sort can ever rival the appro- 
 priateness of detail or proportion which characterises such an interior 
 as that of the Annunciata at Genoa (Woodcut No. 44). The fact is the 
 whole proportions of the building are bad, and it wants that expression 
 of force and power which are indispensable for arcliitectural effect. 
 
 The exterior of the building calls for very little remark. The 
 placing of the campanile behind, and hardly attached, to the apse, is 
 not pleasing, but the flanks are unobjectionable, and the fayade is still 
 too incomplete to admit of the effect being appreciated. With its 
 grand mosaics, it aspires to reproduce the appearance of the original
 
 112 HISTOPiY (»F MODERN AllCHITECTURE. Eook I. 
 
 liuiklino- when it was new, and, like the interior, mnst be judged by 
 that standard, and not as an original creation of the Italian architects 
 of the present day. 
 
 So complete has the ascendency of the Gothic style now become, 
 that though it may enable us to appreciate the merits or defects of 
 such a revival as that of St. Paul's, it makes it extremely difficult to 
 form an impartial judgment with regard to the true Renaissance 
 buildings of the Italians. We have got so completely into the habit 
 of measuring CA'erything by a Mediaeval standard, that an ecclesiastical 
 edifice is judged to be perfect or imperfect in the exact ratio in which 
 it approaches to or recedes from the Gothic type ; and its intrinsic 
 merits are consequently too often overlooked. Taken as a whole, 
 however, it is probably not unjust to assert that, after four centuries 
 of labour, the Italians have failed to produce a satisfactory style of 
 Ecclesiastical Architecture. The type which Alberti may be said to 
 have invented in Sant' Andrea at ]\Iantua has been reproduced some 
 hundreds of times on all scales, from that of St. Peter's at Rome to that 
 of the smallest village church, and Avith infinite variations of detail 
 or aiTangement. These, however, have always been the products of 
 individual taste or talent, or of individual caprice or ignorance, and 
 the result has consequently been that little or no progress has been 
 made ; so that at the present hour the Italians are just Avhere they 
 were in this respect three centuries ago. Although they have occa- 
 sionally in tlie meanwhile produced some edifices to which it is 
 impossible to refuse our admiration, it must be confessed that, con- 
 sidering their opportunities, the result is on the whole negative and 
 unsatisfactory. 
 
 [Is Italian Church Architecture a Failure ? — A distinction 
 must be here drawn between the Church Art as a whole of the 
 Italian or Modern European style, and the Church Art as a part 
 thereof which has been produced on the soil of Italy. Compared 
 with French churches of the higher Classic school, it may be said that 
 the Italian churches, with all their merits, are inferior in that delicacy 
 of treatment in which the French have long excelled all other nations. 
 But it would be snrely a mistake to affirm nowadays that there is 
 failure in the modern Classic church \\ork of Europe as a whole ; 
 taking the best examples, of course, as the true test of success, and 
 ignoring the worst as the usual incidental blunders of human handiwork. 
 To compare a modern Classic church of high class with either an 
 authentic Mediaeval chm'ch or a modern imitation of it, is impossible, 
 except upon the basis of some previous understanding as to the precise 
 ritual of Divine worship which is to be accommodated and accen- 
 tuated ; and this is a consideration which presently introduces matters 
 of sentiment so suljtle that the case really acquires almost a local
 
 Chap. I. ITALY : BASILICAN CHURCHES — INTERIORS. 113 
 
 character. The generahty of Enghsh people of Ecclesiastical tastes 
 have at the present momeut an exclusive preference for a Gothic edifice ; 
 but on the Continent the preference is different ; and, both sides 
 having their sufficient reasons, each is bound to respect the other's 
 opinion. Dismissing from om* minds, therefore, all but the critical 
 appreciation of art, it seems impossible to deny, first, that the Classic 
 manner, if handled to perfection, admits of the composition of most 
 admirable architecture for a Temple of Christian worship ; and, secondly, 
 that examples are to be found in Europe, although perhaps not so many 
 as could be desired, which are excellent proofs of that capability. One 
 thing that has to be borne in mind is that church-builders in these days 
 of political economy do not possess the financial resources which their 
 forefathers had at command in the Ages of Faith. — Ed.] 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 114 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 I. Florence.— II. Venice.— III. Rome.— IV. Vicenza. — V. Genoa.— VI. Mantua. 
 —VII. Milan.— VIII. Turin, Naples, &c.— IX. Conclusion. 
 
 The adaptation of Classical forms to Civil Arcliitecture commenced in 
 Italy under much more favourable and more legitimate circumstances 
 than those which had marked its application to Ecclesiastical Art. 
 Except in Venice, no palaces or i)ublic buildings existed during the 
 Middle Ages at all adapted to the wants of the new state of society 
 which was everywhere developing itself during the Cinque-cento 
 period. The architects were not tearing themselves away^ from a 
 well-understood and hallowed tyjje, as was the case with churches, in 
 order to introduce a new and, to a great extent, an inappropriate style 
 of decoration. They had in Civic Architecture nothing to destroy, but 
 everything to create. They, fortunately, were also without any direct 
 models for imitation, for, though remains of temples existed every- 
 where, few palaces, and scarcely any domestic buildings, of the Classical 
 period remained which could be copied. They had only to borrow 
 and adapt to their purpose the beautiful details of Classical Art, and to 
 emulate so far as they could that grandeur and breadth of design 
 which characterised the works of the Romans ; and had they done this, 
 and this only, all would have gone well. It soon, however, became 
 apparent that those architects who were exercising their misdirected 
 ingenuity to make churches look like heathen temples, could not long 
 resist the temptation of making their civil buildings look like what 
 they fancied (most mistakenly) the civil buildings of the Romans 
 must have been. This did not, however, take place in the fifteenth 
 century. During that early period it is delightful to observe how 
 spontaneous the gro\vth of the new style was ; how little individuality 
 there is in the designs, and how completely each city and each pro- 
 vince expressed its own feelings and its own wants in the buildings it 
 then erected. 
 
 [^ The Wrench at the Renaissance. — The expression here used — 
 " Architects tearing themseh'es away from a well-underetood and 
 hallowed type of churches " — is one that nnist not be taken in an 
 erroneous sense.
 
 Chap. II. ITALY : SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 115 
 
 The history of Art contains no cataclysms ; sudden revohitions are 
 impossible ; ars Jongum est — in all that pertains to it " the wheels of 
 God grind slowly." Not long ago the popular idea of the rise of 
 ancient Greek Art was a sudden upheaving of sunshine in a dark sky. 
 But we now know better ; there was a long and gradual dawn, which we 
 can trace with great interest and critical profit. The tedious process by 
 which Mediaeval Art came onward from very small beginnings in very 
 bad times has long been familiar to the archaeologist. Even our local 
 English episode of the modern Gothic revival began, as we know, a 
 hundred years and more Ijefore it could claim to be a success ; and 
 indeed the much less important Kococo fashion which prevails with us 
 in 1890, and which still looks like a mushroom, has had some thirty 
 years of preparation. So great a revolution, therefore, as the 
 Eenaissance of the Antique must not be imagined to have occurred, or 
 even originated, suddenly. It is true that when the new social system 
 called upon them for palaces instead of castles, the Italian architects 
 were more at liberty than in their church work ; but still there was no 
 wrench even in church work ; the new mode made its way in the usual 
 manner, by leisurely degrees. On Italian ground, moreover, the spirit of 
 North-European Gothicism which animated Western ecclesiology, and 
 which hallowed it, had never acquired a footing. 
 
 Perhaps it may also be said that, while in cultured Italy the return 
 to antiquity — or rather to where antiquity left off — was initiated and 
 encouraged in the cloister, in the unsophisticated Western countries it 
 was resisted there. All amongst the people, too, there was in Italy a 
 spirit of liberty growing up which had by no means yet reached 
 the other side of the Alps. The artistic revolution, therefore, no doubt, 
 had less to do in Italy ; but that it still took its own time must be always 
 recognised. Neither ought we to accept without due reflection the 
 forcible language in which the Italian reformers are spoken of as having 
 concerned themselves chiefly with imitating Eoman temples in their 
 churches, and supposed Eoman houses in their palaces. If they imitated 
 the old basilicas in their churches, it will now be acknowledged, not only 
 that they did well, but that the circumstance tells very much against the 
 theory of their slavish copyism ; and that they could not design such a 
 fagade as that of the Yalmarina Palace (Illustration No. 7) without 
 previously imagining what the ancients must have made of some 
 corresponding subject is not at all what the reader ought to understand, 
 bearing in mind, as he ought always to do, that our author expected and 
 intended his observations to be read with the same freedom of judgment 
 with which they were written. It ought also to be pointed out that the 
 reader's idea of what "copying" means in architectural designs will 
 depend very much upon whether he himself is, or is not, a working 
 designer. To the amateur critic resemblances often appear to be 
 striking which to the experienced artist are scarcely discernible. This 
 
 I 2
 
 116 fllSTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 is a well-known fact in simpler matters. The average Englishman, who 
 regards himself as a most discriminating observer, tliinks all CMnamen 
 are alike. But it is also well understood that the equally self-confident 
 Chinaman thinks all Englishmen are alike, and is even more amused at 
 the likeness. How many intelUgent people there are who will tell us 
 any day that St. Paul's in London is almost exactly like St. Peter's in 
 Rome, and was, in fact, " copied " from it, only on a reduced scale ? 
 There is no doubt about the circumstance that the Scotch Church in 
 Regent Square, Bloomsbury, a work which Sir "W^illiam Tite in his very 
 young days won in competition, was considered at the time to be a 
 direct " copy " of York Minster, and so good a copy that even genial 
 Professor Donaldson, half a century later, reminded a large assembly of 
 architects, to their great amusement (it was after dinner), that Sir 
 William had been " the leading Gothic architect of his day ! " None 
 know better than the leading Gothic architects of the present time 
 how readily their clients and others see resemblances where every effort 
 has been laboriously ex|iended ujjon the achievement of novelty. It 
 cannot be denied that the copying of exact proportions from the ancient 
 " Orders " was earned to an extreme ; but even in this it can scarcely be 
 affirmed that the world of modern Classic architects has ever been 
 averse to encourage attempts to accommodate or even improve those 
 details ; and the French are certainly under the impression that they 
 themselves have occasionally succeeded, difficult as it has been to do 
 so. — Ed.] 
 
 Nothing can be more magnificent than the bold, massive, rusti- 
 cated palaces which were erected at Florence and Sienna during 
 this period — so characteristic of the manly energy of these daring 
 and ambitious, but somewhat troublesome, republics during the Medi- 
 cean era. 
 
 Equally characteristic are the richly-adorned fagades of the Vene- 
 tian nobles — bespeaking wealth combined with luxury, and the 
 security of a w^ell -governed and peaceful city, strongly tinctured with 
 an Oriental love of magnificence and display. 
 
 The palaces of Rome, on the other hand, though princely, are osten- 
 tatious, and, though frequently designed in the grandest style, fell 
 easily under the influence of the Classical remains among which they 
 were erected, and soon lost the distinctive originaUty wliich adliered 
 for a longer period to Florence and Venice, and attained in conse- 
 quence in those cities a more complete development than in the 
 capital itself. Even, however, in their best age the Roman palaces 
 had neither the manly vigour of the Florentine examples, nor the 
 graceful luxuriousness of those of Venice. 
 
 Early in the sixteenth century these differences disappeared ; and, 
 under the influence of Sansovino, Vignola, and Palladio, all Italy was 
 ]-educed to one standard of architectural design. Wlien the style was
 
 Chap. II. ITALY : FLORENCE. 117 
 
 new, it was, and must have been, most fascinating. There was a 
 largeness about its parts, an elegance in its details, and it called up 
 associations so dear to Italians of that age, that it is easy to under- 
 stand the enthusiasm with which men hailed it as a symbol of the 
 revival of the glories of the Roman Empire. The enthusiasm soon 
 died out, for Italy in the seventeenth was no longer what it had been in 
 the sixteenth century. Though, from Italian influence, the style spread 
 abroad over all Europe, it soon acquired at home that commonplace 
 character which distinguishes the Renaissance buildings of Verona, 
 Vicenza, Genoa, and all the later buildings throughout Italy. The 
 meaning of the style was lost, and that dead sameness of design was 
 produced which we are now struggling against, Ijut ])y convulsive efforts, 
 far more disastrous in the meanwhile than the stately bondage from 
 which we are trying to emancipate ourselves. 
 
 I. — Florexce. 
 
 The history of Secular Architecture in Florence opens with the 
 erection of two of her most magnificent palaces — the Medicean, since 
 called the Riccardi, commenced in 1430, and the Pitti, it is said, in 
 1435. The former, designed by Michelozzo,^ notwithstanding its early 
 date, illustrates all the best characteristics of the style. It possesses a 
 splendid fa9ade, 300 ft. in length by 90 in height. The lower storey, 
 which is considerably higher than the other two, is also bolder, and 
 pierced with only a very few openings, and these spaced unsym- 
 metrically, as if in proud contempt of those structural exigencies 
 which must govern all frailer constructions. Its section (Woodcut 
 No. 47) shows how bold the projections of the cornice are, and also 
 illustrates, what it is necessary to bear in mind to understand the 
 design of these Italian palaces, that the top storey is generally the 
 principal of the two upper ones, which are usually those devoted to 
 state purposes, and either the mezzanine or the rear of the block to 
 domestic uses. 
 
 The most obvious objection to this design is the monotony of the 
 two upper storeys of windows, and it would perhaps have been better 
 if they had been grouped to some little extent. It must be observed, 
 however, that the object of the design was to suggest two great suites 
 of apartments arranged for festal purposes only, without any reference 
 to either domestic or constructive exigencies — an impression which 
 this fagade most perfectly conveys. 
 
 The greatest ornament of the whole fagade is the cornicione, w^hose 
 projection is proportioned to the mass below very much as the Classical 
 
 ' Born about 1402 ; died about 1470.
 
 118 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 Corinthian cornice is to tiie pillar that supports it, while at the same 
 time it is so simplified as to suit the rustic mass which it so nobly 
 crowns. 
 
 The Pitti is designed on even a larger scale, the facade being 
 490 ft. in extent, three storeys high in the centre, each storey 40 ft. 
 in height, and the immense windows of each being 24 ft. apart from 
 centre to centre. With such dimensions as these, even a brick 
 building w^ould be grand ; but when we add to this, the boldest 
 rustication all over the fagade, and cornices of simple but bold out- 
 line, there is no palace in Europe to compare with it for grandeur, 
 though many may surpass it in elegance. The design is said to ha\-e 
 
 46. Elevation of part of the Favade of Riccardi Palace, Florence. From Grandjean.' 
 
 been by Brnnelleschi, but it is doubtful how far this is the case, or 
 at all events how much may be due to Michelozzo, who certainly 
 assisted in its erection, or to Amanati, who continued the building, 
 left incomplete at Brunelleschi's death in 1444. The courtyard dis- 
 plays the three Classical Ordere arranged in storeys one over another, 
 but rusticated, as if in a vain endeavour to assimilate themselves to 
 the fagade. The result, however, is only to destroy their grace, with- 
 out imparting to them any of the dignity it is sought by the process 
 to attain to. It was more probably designed by Luca Fancelli, to 
 whom Brnnelleschi is said to have confided the execution of the whole ; 
 and designing a building, and erecting it, were not then such distinct 
 de})artments of tlie art as they have since become. 
 
 ' ' Architecture Toscane,' fol. Paris, 1837.
 
 Crap. II. 
 
 ITALY: FLORENCE. 
 
 119 
 
 The absence of the crowning projecting cornice is the defect which 
 renders this palace, as an architectural object, inferior to the Eiccardi. 
 Instead of a feature so beautiful and weU-proportioned as we find 
 there, we have only such a string course as this (Woodcut No, 48), 
 which, for such a building, is perhaps the most insignificant termina- 
 tion that ever was suggested. Was it intended to add a fourth 
 storey ? — or is this only the l)lundering of Amanati ? It almost seems 
 as if the first is the correct theory, for at so early a period it is 
 difficult to conceive personal feelings or taste interfering with so 
 grand a design. 
 
 Perhaps the most satisfactory of these palaces, as a whole and 
 
 Sectiou of Riccardi Palace, Florence. From Grandjean. 
 
 complete design, is the Strozzi, designed by Cronaca,^ and connnenced 
 in the year 1489. It stands perfectly free on all sides, and is a 
 rectangle 190 ft. by 138 ; like all the rest, in three storeys, measuring 
 together upwards of 100 ft. in height. The cornice that crowns the 
 whole is not so well designed as that of the Riccardi, but extremely well 
 proportioned to the bold, simple building which it crowns, and the 
 windows of the two upper storeys are elegant in design, and appropriate 
 to their situation. It may be that this palace is too massive and too 
 gloomy for imitation ; but, taking into account the age when it was 
 built, and the necessity of security combined with purposes of State to 
 which it was to be applied, it will he difficult to find a more faultless 
 design in any city of modern Europe, or one which combines so 
 
 ' Born 1454 ; died 1509.
 
 120 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 harmoniously local and social characteristics with the elegance of 
 Classical details, a conjunction which has been practically the aim of 
 almost every building of modern times, but very seldom so successfully 
 attained as in this example. 
 
 The Rucellai Palace was commenced in liGO, from designs by Leon 
 Battista Alberti ; and although it has not the stem magnificence of 
 those just mentioned, it must be confessed it gains in elegance from 
 his Classical taste nearly as much as it loses in grandeur. It is pro- 
 bably the first instance in which pilasters form so essential a part of 
 
 the design as they do here, and in it 
 Ave first see an effect which afterwards 
 became so detrimental, in the ex- 
 aggeration of the string courses of the 
 first and second storeys, in order to 
 m:iko them entablatures in proportion 
 to the Ordei-s ; and, what is worec, 
 the paring down of the upper cornice 
 to reduce it to nearly the same amount 
 of projection. In this example these 
 defects are treated so gently, and with 
 such taste, that they do not strike at 
 first sight, but they are the seeds of 
 nuich that was afterwards so de- 
 structive to architectural design. It 
 should also be observed that a certain 
 amount of play is given in this fa9ade by making the spaces between 
 the pilasters wider over the doorways than elseAvhere, and by the variety 
 given to the form of the rustication throughout. All these evidences 
 of thought and care add very considerably to the general effect of the 
 whole construction. 
 
 [Large-Stone Woek and Siiall-Stoxe Work. — If we shut our 
 eyes for a moment to all architectural history, and think merely of 
 stone as the principal material by whose means building has to be 
 executed and architecture evolved, our reflections may take this turn. 
 There are certain localities where stone is to be quanied in large blocks, 
 sometimes very large indeed ; and there are others where it is only to be 
 had in small pieces, sometimes very small. Between these extremes there 
 is the usual gradation ; but let us fix our attention on the extremes 
 themselves for an ajsthetic reason. It is plain that the constructive 
 modes which accord with the use of the very large stones — say 5 or G ft. 
 and upwards in length — must be different from those which apply to the 
 use of very small stones — say under 2 ft. To come at once to the point 
 practically, the large stones suggest trabeation or lintel -work, and the 
 small stones arcuation or arch-work ; and thus two entirely different 
 first principles of design are established at once and for ever — principles 
 
 48. Cornice of Pitti Palace, I'lorence.
 
 Chap. II. ITALY : FLORENCE. 121 
 
 of constructive design and corresponding principles of artistic design. 
 Let us then reojien our eyes to the examples of historic architecture, and 
 we perceive that, roughly speaking, the nations before the commence- 
 ment of the Christian era achieved their building hj the use of large 
 stones and produced the colonnade, ^Yhile the builders of the subsequent 
 centuries, employing small stones, produced the arcade ; each of these 
 leading features carrying with it an elaborate scheme of construction and 
 line art. We also find, during the second of these great periods, two further 
 incidents. First there is what we may call the use of medium stones — which 
 seems to lead to no speciality of design ; but secondly there is the use of 
 intermixed sizes, and this at once becomes identified with a novel j)rinciple, 
 which we see operating in two peculiar forms. On the one hand there 
 appears the coml)ination of colonnade and arcade — of lintel-work con- 
 structed with the large stones and arch-work constructed with the small ; 
 on the other hand we have the acceptance of the superficial forms of 
 large-stone work subject to their construction with small stones. Let 
 us next take up such a material as bricks or squared flints. It requires 
 no great amount of thought to perceive clearly enough, that even with the 
 smallest materials a great Gothic cathedral of the thirteenth century could be 
 l)uilt in all its parts, with all essential graces and all essential equipoise, 
 granting little else by way of exception beyond such articles as finials, 
 copings, sills, and other weather-stones. , But when we look inquiringly 
 at some modem Classic portico on a large scale, and discover that the 
 columns, instead of being monoliths — as would be supposed at a distance 
 — are really built up laboriously of small blocks, three or four, or even six 
 or eight in each shallow course, or at the best that they are constructed 
 of " drums ; " that the architrave is formed ingeniously of flat arches 
 instead of lintels ; and that the frieze and great cornice are with equal 
 ingenuity discharging-arched, metal-cramped, and what not ; all to 
 make the small stones produce the effect of large, because the one is 
 matter of fashion and the other of necessity ; then we surely cannot but 
 wonder that the designer should have accepted the fashion at such a 
 price. On the same ground, we should feel the same wonder, of course, 
 if the architect of a church all in arcuation should build his arches with 
 large blocks of stone ; to say nothing of the artifice of making an entire 
 arch, as is sometimes done for convenience, out of a single block. 
 (Although, be it remembered, two blocks with a joint at the apex make 
 a legitimate primitive arch). But when we come to the ordinary house- 
 work of our own day, for which sufficiently large blocks of stone could 
 be had without difficulty at a price, but smaller stuff, or rubble, or 
 brick, haA-e to be used at a lower price, then, so far at least as the 
 surface goes, perhaps it may be said to be enough if the large stone 
 members are built in large stones, and the rest in the small material ; 
 and the critic, amongst other things, will also make allowance for the 
 incouA'enient rule of construction that even in columns and shafts the
 
 122 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 stone must be laid on its natural bed. True, when the surface is thus so 
 far rationalised, it may not have to be taken as admitted that the 
 demands of the structuresque are fully satisfied ; but still the principle 
 of lenient criticism will not be ignored by the thoughtful mind, so long 
 as the reasonable possibilities of the case are seen to have been con- 
 sidered. A wall, for example, of ashlar is not a make-believe because it 
 is not built of blocks of its full thickness ; it is to l^e hoped that it is 
 not faced with mere little slabs 6 or even 4 inches thick, but all the 
 
 49. Part of the Facade of the Kucellai Palace, Florence. From Grandjean. 
 
 world knows that it is faced and not solid. To revert to a most notable 
 example already dealt with, one cause of the " failure " of St. Peter's 
 may be described thus:— the edifice, having regard to its detail, is 
 designed on a scale which overreaches the practical limits of even large- 
 stone work ; to realise the design in monolithic Avork, or anything like 
 it, would be manifestly impossible as respects the main " Order " of the 
 church either outside or in ; it would be quite enough to attempt it in 
 the case of the dome.— Ed.] 
 
 The Gondi Palace, designed by Giuliano da Sangallo,^ and com- 
 menced in 1490, is less happy than those enumerated above, from the 
 fact of the windows not being divided liy nuillions, and its cornieione 
 being also inferior in design and less salient in projection, though it 
 
 ' Born 1443; diccl 1517.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 ITALY: FLOEENCE. 
 
 123 
 
 still possesses many beauties that would render it remarkable except 
 as a member of such a group. 
 
 The fa9ade of the Piccolomini Palace at Sienna, though of dimen- 
 sions nearly equal to the Strozzi, being 140 ft. wide by about 100 in 
 height, and designed in what at first sight appears to be the same 
 style, is painfully inferior ; first, in consequence of the comparative 
 smallness of the stones employed, and, secondly, because a mezzanine 
 is introduced in the basement, and an attic smuggled into the frieze 
 
 (-Juadagni Palace, Florence. From Grandjean. 
 
 under the cornice ; and the whole looks so meagre as to detract pain- 
 fully from the majesty of the style. It was built very early in the 
 sixteenth century, from designs by Francesco di Giorgio. 
 
 The same architect furnished the designs, in 1492, for the Spannocchi 
 Palace in the same city ; which, though much smaller than the 
 last named, being 74 ft. wide and 80 ft. in height, is still far more 
 beautiful as a work of Art ; and its cornice, with a mask between each 
 of the great consoles that sujjport it, is one of the most elegant, if not 
 the grandest, of the whole series. The palace has, however, the defect 
 of the Sienna buildings, that the stones employed arc too small to give
 
 124 HISTOEY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 effect to a design dependiTig so much on rustication as was always the 
 case with the Tuscan palaces. 
 
 There are two other palaces in Florence the designs of which are 
 attributed to Bramante — the Guadagni (Woodcut No. 50) and the 
 Nicolini, Their fagades are nearly square — 70 ft. each way— and 
 almost identical, except that the first named is richly ornamented by 
 decoration in Sgraffitti.^ Both these palaces are full of elegance, and 
 in the style peculiar to Florence, though probably in a more modem 
 age than that to which they are ascribed, their most marked pecu- 
 liarity being an open colonnade under the cornice, which, in a hot 
 climate, is a very charming arrangement for domestic enjoyment, as 
 well as an artistic one for architectural effect. They possess also a 
 lightness and elegance of detail throughout, which, though neither so 
 grand nor so monumental as the older rusticated palaces, is more 
 suited to modem ideas of social security combined with elegance. 
 
 The series of really good and characteristic buildings closes at 
 Florence with the Pandolfini Palace, commenced in 1520, it is said 
 from designs by the celebrated Raphael d'Urbino, but was probably 
 by Francesco Aristotile and his brother Bastiano,^ who certainly 
 finished it. Though small — the principal faQade, exclusive of the 
 wing, being only 75 ft. wide hj 50 high — it is still a dignified and 
 elegant design. The usual rustication is abandoned, except at the 
 angles and round the " porte cochere," and the windows are no longer 
 divided by mullions ; but a smaller Order, Avith a pediment over each 
 opening, frames every window. As used in this instance, these can 
 hardly be called defects, and the panelling between the windows on 
 the first floor gives a unity to the whole composition. In itself there 
 is little to object to in the design of this palace ; but it is transitional 
 —the last of a good, the first of a bad, class of buildings, in which the 
 restraints were soon thrown off which guided the architect in making 
 the design. 
 
 The Bartolini Palace, commenced in the same year from the designs 
 of Baccio d'Agnolo,^ shows the same elegance and the same defects of 
 detail ; but, from its being a three-storeyed building, 55 ft. in width 
 and 70 in height, it has a more commonplace and less palatial look 
 than the other. 
 
 The beauty and appropriateness of their own rasticated style seems 
 to have prevented the Florentines from ever sinking into the third or 
 lowest stage of Italian Architecture. The second was reached in the 
 
 ' Sgraffitto is a name applied to a mode 
 of decoration not unusual in Italy. Tlie 
 building intended to be so decorated is 
 first covered with a c, ating of black plas- 
 ter, over this is laid a thin coat of white, 
 and, by engraving on this, the design 
 
 comes out in black. In that climate it 
 seems a very permanent mode of orna- 
 mentation. 
 
 => Born 1481; died 1551. 
 
 ' Born HtiO; died 1543.
 
 Chap. II. ITALY : VENICE. 125 
 
 Rucellai, where pilasters were introduced unmeaningly, where entabla- 
 tures were used as string courses, and wdiere, consequently, the actual 
 cornice was only a third string course perhaps a little exaggerated. 
 In other hands than Alberti's this might have been fatal, but it 
 escaped. Nowhere in Florence do we find pilasters running through 
 two or three storeys as in the designs of Michael Angelo and Palladio, 
 and ornamentation consequently divorced from construction, which 
 proved to be the third stage of downward progress. It must be con- 
 fessed, however, that this mode of using pilasters is a peculiarity 
 more frequently found on this side of the Alps than on the other, 
 though it is wholly an invention of the Italian architects of the 
 sixteenth century. 
 
 After the middle of the sixteenth century there are no domestic 
 buildings in Florence which are remarkable either for originality or 
 magnificence. But those enumerated above form a group as worthy of 
 admiration as any to be found in any city of modern Europe, not only 
 for its splendour, but for its appropriateness. It proves, if anything 
 were wanted to prove it, how easily Classical details can be appropriated 
 to modern uses when guided with judgment and taste, and how even 
 the ancients themselves may be surpassed in this peculiar walk. It is 
 very uncertain, from any information we have, whether any of the 
 palaces of the ancients were at all equal in style to these, though the 
 brick and stucco residences of the Roman emperors were larger than 
 the whole of them put together. 
 
 It may be regretted that the boldness of the features of this style 
 renders it appropriate only to buildings designed on the scale of these 
 Florentine palaces, and consequently, when attempts are made in 
 modern times to copy them in stucco, and with storeys only 15 or 20 ft. 
 high, the result is as painful as that of applying the architecture of the 
 Parthenon to the front of a barber's shop. The Florentine style is only 
 appropriate to the residences of princes as magnificent as the old 
 Florentine nobles were, and cannot be toned down to citizen and 
 utilitarian uses ; though worthy of the warmest admiration as we find 
 it employed in the province where it was first introduced. 
 
 II. — ^Venice. 
 
 The history of the revival of Architecture in Venice is extremely 
 different from that of Florence. She had no fanatico like Brunelleschi, 
 no enthusiastic scholar like Alberti, to advocate the cause of antiquity, 
 nor was she a new city in the fifteenth century. Already her Doge 
 possessed a palace worthy of his greatness — the Foscari and Pisani 
 were lodged in mansions suitable to their rank ; there existed the 
 Casa d'Oro, and numberless smaller palaces and houses, displaying as 
 much architectural mairnificencc as the wealth or rank of their owners
 
 126 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 entitled them to. There was also the fact that Venice had no Classical 
 remains within her Lagunes, and no great sympathy with Eome, which 
 her citizens did not care to imitate, but rather felt that they had 
 already surpassed her. The Venetians clung therefore to a style which 
 they had made almost their own, long after the other cities of Italy had 
 abandoned it ; and even as late as the sixteenth century we find Pointed 
 arches in the courtyard of the Doge's Palace and in the windows of the 
 upper part of the external faQade. Still it was impossible to resist the 
 fashion that was everywhere prevailing, and we find about the yeai-s 
 1580-85, forty years after Brunelleschi's death, and after Alberti had 
 been gathered to his fathers, that the Venetians too adopted Classical 
 details in the buildings they thereafter commenced, but it was with a 
 Gothic feeling, unknown at this time in any other part of Italy. 
 
 For about half a century from this time, or till about 1G30, all the 
 })uildings of Venice were in a singularly elegant transitional style, 
 about as essentially Venetian as the Gothic l)uildings of the city had 
 been, almost all of them of great beauty and elegance, but still so 
 Mediaeval that neither their dates nor the names of their architects 
 can be very satisfactorily ascertained. 
 
 In the next half-century (1630-1680) the Architecture of the city 
 was in the hands of San IMichelc, Sansovino, Palladio, Da Ponte, and 
 tScamozzi ; and it is to this period that Venice owes its grandest 
 architectural development and its most striking buildings. 
 
 In the century that followed we have the works of Longhena, 
 Benoni, Temanza, and other less-known names ; and many of the richest, 
 though the least tasteful, of the palaces of that city, were erected from 
 their designs. After 1780 the city may be said to have ceased to build, 
 and Avliat has since been done has been by the French and Germans. 
 
 The modern architectural history of Venice is thus comprised in the 
 two centuries that elapsed from 1485 to 1685, and this is divided into 
 two nearly ecpial halves. In the first, we have an elegant and tasteful 
 style, free from most of the faults of the Eenaissance, and combining 
 picturesqueness with apju'opriateness. In the second, the style is 
 statelier and more Classical, but far less picturesque ; and the designs 
 seldom escape from displaying a style of ornamentation at variance with 
 the internal arrangements or constructive necessities of the buildings. 
 
 In the first age we have the very remarkable churches mentioned 
 above — Sta. Maria dei Miracoli (1480-89) and San Zaccaria (Woodcut 
 No. 37). There is also the School of St. Mark, commenced after the 
 fire in 1485, and that of San Rocca (1489), displaying a more ambitious 
 attempt at Classicality, but without much elegance or success. 
 
 The great undertaking of this age was the rebuilding of the in- 
 ternal court of the Ducal Palace. It was commenced in 1486 by an 
 ;irchitect of the name of Antonio liregno, and finished in 1550 by 
 another, of the name of Scarpagnino. The lower storey of this court is
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 ITALY: VENICE. 
 
 127 
 
 North-pjaslcrn An^le ol' Odiutyanl in hoge'n I'alare, Venici'. From a I'liotograpli. 
 
 singularly well designed, the polygonal form of the piers giving great 
 strength without heaviness, and the panelling giving elegance and 
 iiccentuation without bad taste. The introduction of the Pointed arch 
 in the arcade above is not so happy. In itself, as frequently remarked 
 before,^ the Pointed is not a pleasing form of arch ; and, although the 
 mode in which it is used in Gothic buildings remedies its inherent 
 defects and renders it beautiful, when used nakedly it is always mi- 
 pleasing. In the storeys above this, the friezes are magnified into such 
 broad belts of ornamental sculpture that they cease to be copies of 
 Classical forms, and become in appearance what they are in reality, 
 ornamental wall-spaces l)etween the storeys. This, with the panelling 
 between the windows, makes up a design singularly pleasing for the 
 decoration of a courtyard, though it wants the synnnetry which would 
 
 History of Arehitfcturc,' pnsgiui.
 
 128 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 render it suitable for a facade which could be seen at once, and 
 grasped as a whole. The arcades ^ on the ground floor of the two 
 other sides of this courtyard are in the same style and of the same 
 age as those of the fagade just described. In fact, the whole wall, from 
 the pavement up to the cornice, was built when the palace was re- 
 modelled at this period ; but, as the upper part stood upon arches of 
 Cinque-cento design, it was not thought necessary to Gothicise those 
 in the courtyard, as was done with the windows on the external 
 fa9ades. The upper external walls, being erected over the arcades 
 of the older Gothic building which were retained, were treated as 
 we now find them in order to harmonise with the substructure which 
 supported them. 
 
 The upper part of the walls on the south and west sides of the court 
 is left in plain brickwork, and the windows with only very slight 
 ornamental mouldings, and these are of the Cinque-cento style of the 
 period, though the opposite external windows, of the same age, in 
 the same room, are designed with Gothic forms. Possibly it was 
 intended to stucco the inner wall and paint it in fresco ; but if so, 
 this intention was never carried out, and it has now a meagre and 
 discordant effect as compared with either the fagades attached to the 
 basUica of St. Mark's, or the eastern, which was the residence proper 
 of the Doge. 
 
 Next in importance to this are the Procuratie Vecchie, occupying 
 the northern side of the Piazza of St. Mark, though they are far from 
 being a pleasing example of the style, being far too attenuated for 
 architectural effect. The lower arcades are wide, and the piere weak 
 in themselves, and doubly so in appearance, when it is seen that each 
 has to support two smaller arcades, the piers of one of which stand on 
 the crown of the lower arch. The deep frieze of the upper storey 
 pierced with circular windows is also objectionable, but not so much 
 so as the strange battlement that crowns the whole. Nearly the same 
 remarks apply to the Clock Tower, which finishes the range towards 
 St. Mark's, which can only be called picturesque and inoffensive, for 
 when examined critically it really has no kind of architectural merit. 
 Both these buildings would be open to hareher criticism than even this 
 if found elsewhere ; but the climate, the adjuncts, and the memories of 
 the spot, induce most tourists and many architects to overlook those 
 defects, and only to consider them as parts of a great whole, the beauty 
 of whose grouping conceals the deficiencies of the parts of which it is 
 composed. 
 
 Of the palaces of this age, the largest, and perhaps the grandest, is 
 
 ' The nortlierii fa^aile of tlie School of j literally ; the upper storey with some 
 Mines in riccadilly is copied from this } modifications, winch are improvements, 
 coiu-tyard— tlie arcadesof the lower storey i but still very like the original.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 ITALY: VENICE. 
 
 129 
 
 Vaudramini Palace, Veuic?. Fiom a I'Lut graiiLi. 
 
 the Trevisaiio. Its fa9ade is 85 ft. wide, and 75 in height, divided 
 into four storeys. To some extent it has the same defect as the build- 
 ings last mentioned of too great lightness, but the relief afforded by 
 the more solid parts on either flank remedies this to a very great extent, 
 and makes it on the whole a very pleasing composition. 
 
 The clipfs-iVcPuvrB of the style, however, are the Palazzi Vaudramini 
 and the original Cornaro, the former being perhaps without exception 
 the most beautiful in Venice. Nothing can exceed the l)eauty of the 
 proportions of the three cornices, and the dignity of that wliich crowns 
 the whole. The base, too, is sufficiently solid without being heavy, 
 and, the windows being all mullioned, and the spaces between rein- 
 forced with three-quarter columns, there is no appearance of weakness 
 anywhere ; while there is almost as much opening for light and air 
 as in the Palazzo Trevisano, or any Iniilding of its age. The ('ornaro 
 is similar in design, except that its base is liigher ;ind more solid, and 
 there are only two windows instead of three irj tlie (viitre. In both 
 the details are designed with singular elegance, and what ornaujent 
 there is, besides being appropriate and good, is so arranged that it 
 Vol. I. ^ ^ ' K
 
 130 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 supplements the " Orders," and as it were links the parts together, 
 so that the whole appears as jjarts of one original design. There is 
 perhaps no other modern building in which Classical pillai-s are used 
 with so little feeling that they are borrowed or uselessly applied ; 
 eveiy part is equally rich and ornamental, and every ornament seems 
 designed for the place where it is found. The dimensions of the fagadc 
 of the Vandramini Palace are less than those of the Tre^'isano, being 
 only 80 ft. by 05 in height ; but this is sufficient to give all the effect 
 re(|uircd in such a design as this. 
 
 The Palazzo Camerliiiglii, close to the Rialto, is another l)uilding of 
 
 the same class, said to ha\e been 
 tinished in 1525, and shows the 
 same elegance of detail which 
 characterizes all the buildings of 
 the age, though the disposition 
 of the parts is not so happy in 
 this as in those last quoted ; and 
 the excess of window-space gives 
 to the whole design a degree of 
 weakness almost equal to that of 
 the Procnratie Vecchie, and wliicli 
 is very destructive of true archi- 
 tectural effect. 
 
 This excess of lightness is in 
 fact the principal defect in the 
 Venetian designs of tliis age, and 
 is the more remarkable when 
 contrasted with the opposite 
 characteristic in those of Florence. 
 It may be argued that if the 
 internal arrangements of the 
 buildings required it, the true 
 principle of good architecture is 
 ;7 , that it should be supplied. This 
 is quite tnie ; but if ntilitarian 
 exigencies are made to govern 
 the artistic absolutely, it may 
 happen that the design is taken out of the category of Fine Art, and 
 reduced to being a mere example of practical building. The taste 
 displayed, and the amount of ornament exhibited in these early Venetian 
 exam])les, are quite sufficient to save them from this reproach, though, 
 ti'om their want of solidity and mass, they sometimes narrowly escape it. 
 San Micheli's ^ masterpiece is the design of the Palace of theOrimani 
 
 End Elevation of Palazzo Camerlinghi, Venice 
 From Cicognara. 
 
 ' Born 1484 ; ilicil 1549.
 
 1 
 
 Chap. II. ITALY : VENICE. 131 
 
 — now the Post-office (Wootlcut No. G). It does not uppeur to have 
 been qnite finished at his death, in 154!), Imt substantially it is his, and, 
 though not so pleasing as some of the earlier palaces, is a stately and 
 appropriate building. It would, pterhaps, have been better if the lower 
 Order had been omitted altogether; and the di\'ision of the square 
 openings in tlie upper storeys, by the cornii^e of the smaller Order l)eing 
 carried across them, is not a very intelligible feature. These, however, 
 are minor defects, and are scarcely worthy of being remarked upon, 
 when compared with the blemishes that can be pointed out in the works 
 of other architects of the same period. The proportions of the whole 
 facade are good, and its dimensions, 92 ft. wide by 98 in height, give it 
 a dignity which renders it one of the most striking facades on the 
 ({rand Canal, while the judgment displayed in the design elevates it 
 into being one of the l)est buildings of the age in which it was erected. 
 
 The great Cornaro Palace, commenced in 1532 from designs by 
 Sansovino,^ is somewhat larger in dimensions, and richer in detail. Its 
 width is 104 feet, its height to the top of the cornice 97 ; and there is 
 a quantity of ornamental sculpture introduced into the spandrils of the 
 arches, and elsewhere, which might as well have been omitted. The 
 rustication of the base, however, gives dignity to the whole, but the 
 coupling of all the pillars of the upper storeys is productive of a great 
 amount of monotony, which is added to by the repetition of similar 
 arcades throughout the two upper storeys, without any grouping in 
 the centre or any solid masses at the angles. The insertion also of oval 
 windows in the frieze of the crowning cornice detracts very much from 
 the dignity of the design. These defects, however, are very far redeemed 
 by the beauty of its details and the general grandeur of the whole design.^ 
 
 The masterpiece of this architect at Venice is the Library in the 
 Piazetta, opposite the Doge's Palace. It consists of a lower open arcade 
 of the Doric order, treated with great boldness, and with a well-designed 
 entablature. Above this is a glazed arcade of the Ionic order, sur- 
 mounted by an entablature of most disproportionate dimensions. This 
 defect is partly redeemed by the motive being apparent, which was, to 
 admit of the introduction of a range of windows in the frieze. If an 
 architect must use an Order, such adaptations may be regarded as traits 
 of genius in so far as he individually is concerned, but they only tend 
 to make more glaring the defects of the princij^le which forces him to 
 such makeshifts. Notwithstanding this and some minor defects, princi- 
 pally arising from too profuse a use of sculptured decorations, there is a 
 grandeur in the range of twenty-one similar arcades extending through 
 270 feet, and a boldness in its crowning members, which is singularly 
 pleasing ; and if the architect would only let us forget that he was 
 
 ' Born 1479 ; (.lied 1570. middle storey being omitteil, and some 
 
 - The Army and Navy Club, Pall Mall, ornaments introduced which are not in 
 is practically a copy of this palace ; the the original. 
 
 K 2
 
 132 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 End Elevation of Library of St. ]\Iark, Venice. From Cicognara. 
 
 thinking of the Flavian Amphitheatre, we must admit his design to he 
 one of the most l^eautif nl of its age and style. 
 
 Beautiful as this building is, and well worthy of study for its own 
 sake, it is still uiore so from the position in which it liapi^ens to he 
 placed. Situated exactly facing the Doge's Palace, and of nearly the 
 same dhnensious in plan, it is also so nearly similar in design that 
 nowhere is so favoural)le an opportunity offered for judging of the 
 comparative merits of the two styles as in this instance. If not (piite, 
 they are at least among, the ^ery best specimens of their res^icctive
 
 Chap. IL ITALY : VENICE. 133 
 
 classes. The Palace, it is true, gains immensely in dignity by the mass 
 superimposed on its arcades ; so that its dimensions rather overpower 
 the Library ; but, on the other hand, the dimensions of the arcades of 
 the Library so much exceed those of the Palace as to restore the 
 equilibrium, to some extent at least. 
 
 In analyzing Sansovino's design, the great defect appeal's to be that 
 the architectural ornament is not necessarily part of the construction. 
 It is, nevertheless, so well managed here that it nowhere seems opposed 
 to it ; still it is felt that it might be away, or another class of orna- 
 mentation used, and the building not only stand, but perhaps look as 
 well, or better. More than this, there is a quantity of sculptured 
 ornament, figures in the spandrils, boys and wreaths in the frieze, and 
 foliage elsewhere, which not only is not construction, but does not even 
 suggest it. If all this were omitted, the building would be relieved from 
 that confusion of parts which is one of its principal defects ; or, if 
 enrichment were necessary, more conventional architectural ornament 
 would have attained the same end ; and if it could have been made to 
 suggest eonstraction, so much the better. 
 
 In the arcades of the Palace there is not one single feature or one 
 single moulding which is not either construction, or does not suggest it. 
 The sculptured enrichments are entirely subordinate to the architecture, 
 and trutlifulness pervades every part. Although, therefore, its scale of 
 parts is smaller, and its features generally less elegant, it is so essentially 
 architecture, and nothing else, that judgment must probably be given 
 in favour of the arcades of the Palace, when weighed fairly against those 
 of the Library ; though a very little rhore sobriety and taste on the 
 part of the architect of the latter might have turned the scales the 
 other way. 
 
 It is evident that the extraordinary depth of the upper entablature of 
 the Library is not the worst defect of the building, for when Scamozzi ^ 
 undertook, in 1584, to continue the two lower ranges along the whole 
 south side of the Piazza di San Marco, he cut down this entablature to 
 within the prescribed limits, and substituted a full-grown storey of the 
 Corinthian order instead. Though the additional height was necessary 
 in this instance, and ought to have increased the dignity of the l)uilding, 
 the substitution did not improve the design, and the want of a suffi- 
 ciently important crowning cornice is felt painfully in this, as it is in 
 most of the designs of this age. There are also some minor defects of 
 detail, which render this, as they do most of Scamozzi's designs, inferior 
 to those of Sansovino. These, however, were, it must be confessed, 
 faults more of the age than of the architect. 
 
 PaUadio did not build any palace at Venice of sufficient importance 
 to be quoted as an example of his style ; but the courts of the Convent 
 
 Born 1552; died 1616.
 
 ]34 HISTORY OF MODEEX ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 de la Carita are so favourite a design of his own, and so much praised 
 by his admirers, that it cannot be passed over in silence. The principal 
 court is, or rather was intended to lie, surrounded by a double arcade of 
 considerable dimensions, and, like all his designs, elegant in detail and 
 pleasing in general proportions. Above these is a third storey, Avith 
 square windows between Corinthians pilastere. As here used, this 
 cannot be said to lie objectionable ; though placmg the more solid over 
 the lighter parts of the design is hardly ever a desirable mode of 
 proceeding. The other court was to have had four tall Corintliian 
 pillare on each side, supporting what was supposed to be the reproduc- 
 tion of a hjrpgethral roof. The sides of the court were plain, but showed 
 two storeys of windows, and the eight great ])illars nnist have so dwarfed 
 its dimensions as to render it almost as clumsy a design as ever was 
 perpetrated ; it was, in fact, one of the many instances in which either 
 his own taste or the spirit of his age forced Palladio to adopt the 
 Michael-Angelesque mania for an exaggerated Order : without con- 
 sidering either the exigencies of the building to which it was to be 
 applied, or its dwai^fing effect on other parts of the design. Fortunately 
 for Venice, there is no other instance of this per^'erted taste in any of 
 the civil or domestic buildings of the great age. 
 
 The fa9ade of the Prison towards the Canal, commenced in 1589, is 
 a much-admired design by Antonio da Ponte,^ though there is very 
 little merit in it beyond an absence of that bad taste which began to 
 display itself about this age. The design has also the defect — then 
 becoming too common — of having no reference to the intention of the 
 building to which it is applied ; the elevation would be more suitable 
 to a library or a club, or any civil building, than to a prison. This 
 design contrasts, however, pleasingly witli its iiendant, the Zecca, com- 
 menced shortly after the year 153.^, from the designs of Sansovino, 
 though it is very unworthy of his fame. The rustication of the Orders, 
 coupled with the great size of the openings, give it an incongruous 
 character, singularly destructive of architectural effect. 
 
 One of the best known buildings of the declining age of Venetian 
 Art is the Dogana (Woodcut Xo, 34), which stands at the entrance of 
 the Grand Canal, and was built by some unknown architect in the 
 seventeenth century (1682 ?). Whatever may be its defects of style in 
 detail, there is no building in Europe more happily designed to suit the 
 spot in which it stands, or which is better proportioned to the sur- 
 rounding objects. With these merits it would be difficult for an architect 
 not to produce a l)uilding that must be more pleasing than many that 
 are more correct. 
 
 To this last and declining age belong the churches of the Salute 
 (Woodcut No. U) and Zobenigo (Woodcut Xo. 40), already spoken of 
 
 ' Born 1512; died 1597.
 
 Chap. TI. 
 
 ITALY : VENICE. 
 
 135 
 
 Pesaro Palace, Venice. From a drawing by Caualetti. 
 
 above, and a large number of jmlaces, more remarkable for their richness 
 of decoration than for the propriety of their designs. Still they are 
 palaces, and palaces only. They are rich, striking, and generally placed 
 not only where they can be seen to advantage, but where also they group 
 pleasingly with the objects in their immediate vicinity. Two of the 
 best of these are the Pisano and Rezzonico Palaces ; but the most
 
 136 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 tyiiical example is perhaps the Pesaro, built by Longhena ^ (the fagade 
 of Avhich is shown in Woodcut No. 55), though over ornamented, has no 
 striking faults, such as two storeys being run into one, or anything 
 added for show or merely for effect. Though not in the purest taste, it 
 still perfectly expresses the fact that it is the residence of a wealthy and 
 luxurious noble, and is, taken as a whole, a singularly picturesque piece 
 of Palatial Architecture. It will not stand comparison wdth the 
 Vandramini or the earlier palaces of Venice for either purity of design 
 or beauty of detail, and there is an absence of repose in any part, which 
 detracts very much from the effect it might otherwise produce. The 
 last defect would have been nearly avoided if there had been only one 
 window on each side of the central group of three, instead of the two 
 which we now find there, and the basement might have been made more 
 solid without probal:)ly detracting from convenience. Still, from the 
 water-line to the cornice, it is a rich, varied, and appropriate design, so 
 beautiful as a whole that we can well afford to overlook any slight 
 irregularities in detail. 
 
 There are in Venice one or two sj)ecimens of modem palatial art, 
 erected within the limits of this century, but so cold, so lean, and 
 unartistic, that we can well pardon the gorgeous — it may be half- 
 barbaric — splendour of the previous age when we compare its production 
 with those of the soulless mediocrity that followed. Fortunately the 
 modern buildings in Venice are few and far between, or the spell that 
 renders it the most beautiful and the most romantic city of Europe 
 might be broken. It is also the city where Domestic and Palatial 
 Architecture can be studied to the greatest advantage. Florence presents 
 only one form of the art, and that confined to one century. The 
 Romans soon lost what little originality they ever had, but Venice, from 
 the 13th to the 18th century, presents an uninterrupted series of palaces 
 and smaller residences, all more or less ornamental, all appropriate to 
 their purposes, and all in exact conformity with the prevailing feelings 
 and taste of the age in which they were erected. 
 
 While other Italian cities have each some ten or twelve prominent 
 structures on Avhich their claim to architectural fame is based, Venice 
 numbers her specimens by hundreds ; and the residence of the simple 
 citizen is often as artistic as the palace of the proudest noble. No other 
 city possesses such a school of Architectural Art as applied to domestic 
 purposes ; and if we must look for types from which to originate a style 
 suitable to our modern wants, it is among the Venetian examples of the 
 early part of the IGth century that we shall i)robably find what is best 
 suited to our purposes. 
 
 Born about 1G02; died 1682.
 
 Chap. II. ITALY : EOME. 
 
 III.— EOME. 
 
 The history of secular architecture iu Eome differs iu mauy respects 
 from that of either Florence or Venice. So prosperous and so proud was 
 Florence at the end of the thirteenth century, that she instructed her 
 architect to prepare designs for a cathedral " of such extent and mag- 
 nificence that nothing superior or more beautiful should remain to be 
 desired from the power or industry of man ; " ^ and from that time till 
 the Renaissance she went on increasing in prosperity and power, and 
 adorning the city with such buildings as those described above. 
 
 After the war of Chiozza in 1380, Venice was the proudest and 
 the richest commercial city of the world, and her merchant princes 
 lined her canals with their picturesque Gothic palaces, which still 
 excite such admiration in their decay, while they testify to a degree 
 of wealth and luxury utterly unknown to any other city of Europe in 
 that age. 
 
 During the whole of the fourteenth century Eome was distracted by 
 the contests of the Orsini and Colonna families, and by the disturbances 
 consequent on the short-lived triumph of Cola Eienzi. These and the 
 series of tumults which forced the Popes into a long banishment at 
 Avignon, had so reduced the city that, at their return, in 1375, they 
 found less than 17,000 inhabitants remaining in the capital. It 
 required a century of repose before her princes recovered sufficiently 
 from these disastrous times to have money to spare for architectural 
 embellishments, and we consequently find her more deficient than almost 
 any city of Italy in examples of Ci\-il or Domestic Architecture of the 
 Mediaeval period. Eome possesses no buildings that can compare with 
 the stern grandeur of the Florentine palaces, or the playful luxuriousness 
 of those that adorn the canals of Venice. 
 
 The two earliest secular buildings of any importance in Eome are 
 the so-called palaces of Venice : the great palace, with the church of 
 St. Mark adjoining, built about the year I-IGS by Giuliano de Majano ^ 
 —the smaller by Baccio Pintelli,^ in 1475. No buildings could well be 
 more characteristic of the times in which they were erected, for ex- 
 ternally they possess no architectural decoration whatever, being heavy 
 machicolated masses, designed for use and defence, but certainly not for 
 ornament ; and it is only their courtyards that bring them into the class 
 of objects of which we are now treating. These are adorned with 
 colonnades in two storeys, supporting arches ; and the capitals of the 
 columns, the archivolts, and the whole of the details are so elegant 
 and appropriate that we cannot but feel that their architects were in 
 the right path ; and, had they persevered in using Classical elegance 
 
 ' Giovanni Villani, ' Storia Fioieutiua.' ' Bora 1407 ; died 1477. 
 
 ^ Born at Florence beginning of fifteeuth century.
 
 138 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 Avithout more direct eopyin<>- than is foiiml in this example, they mii>:lit 
 have produced a style as original as it would have been elegant. This, 
 however, was probably impossible in a city like Rome, so full of the 
 
 remains of 
 
 "The dead but sceptred sovereigns who still rule 
 Our spirits from their urns." 
 
 Except these two i^alaces, and some alterations and repaii-s, there is 
 nothing that was done during the fifteenth century that need arrest the 
 student of Architecture in Rome, in so far as the civil branch of the art 
 is concerned ; so that, practically, its history in this respect commences 
 with the works of the great Florentine artists, Bramante, Peruzzi, 
 Sansovino, Sangallo, and Michael Angelo, who were attracted to Rome 
 l)y the splendid patronage and magnificent designs which have im- 
 mortalised the age of Julius II. and Leo X. Practically therefore as 
 concerns Rome we may consider Bramante as the earliest architect of 
 the Renaissance, and the year 1500, when he commenced the Sora 
 Palace, as the earliest date to start from. 
 
 The greatest work of Civil Architecture of this age was tlie Belvedere 
 Coiu-t of the Vatican, proposed by Julius II., to unite two detached 
 portions of the Palace, and commenced in 1506 from the designs of 
 Bramante. The ground between those two buildings was very uneven 
 and irregular ; but all difficulties were surmounted with a degree of 
 taste and skill which has seldom beeu suqiassed. As originally 
 designed, it consisted of a grand courtyard nearly 1100 ft. in length l)y 
 225 ft. in width. At the lower end, next St. Peter's, was an amphi- 
 theatre about 150 ft. in diameter, with raised steps, from which shows 
 and s^iectacles in the courtyard could lie conveniently seen, and on each 
 side there were galleries in three storeys, open on the side towards the 
 court, surmounted by a fourth storey pierced only with windows. A 
 little more than half-way from the amphitheatre, a doulile teiTace, with 
 magnificent flights of steps, led to a garden on a level with the floor of 
 the upper arcade, which, with the upper storey, were alone continued 
 round it ; and beyond this was the magnificent alcove of the Belvedere, 
 with an open semicircular colonnade on its roof. 
 
 The buildings of this court were earned on with such inconsiderate 
 haste that their foundations failed before they were completed, and the 
 re(|uisite strengthening by no means added to their beauty. Its pro- 
 portions also have now been entirely spoiled by the transverse gallery of 
 the Vatican Library being built on the lower terrace, di^-iding it into 
 two courts. This arrangement not only destroys all that was grand in 
 the original conception of the court, but renders the two great niches or 
 alcoves at the ends disproportioned to the smaller courts in which they 
 now stand. Other alterations have since taken place, which render the 
 original design scarcely recognisable. 
 
 The other great court of the Vatican, known as the Court of tiic
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 ITALY : ROME. 
 
 139 
 
 Loggie, is also ascril)ecl to Bramante, and it seems nearly certain that he 
 commenced it, thongli it was most probably carried out architecturally, 
 as it certainly was painted, by Raphael, and — like the neighbouring 
 Sistine Chapel, and many other buildings of the age — it owes its fame 
 and its merits far more to the fancy of the painter than to the skill of 
 the architect. If Painting really is, for this purpose, a higher art than 
 Architecture, and this is a legitimate application of it, these two 
 buildings must be considered as the chefs-cTmivre of Italian Art in this 
 age ; but in both cases it seems as if Painting had encroached unreason- 
 ably on the domains of her sister Art, and both have suffered in 
 consequence. The Loggie, however, have suffered far less in this re- 
 si^ect than the Chapel, for they were not capable of any higher class of 
 
 Tart of the Favade of the Cancellaria at Rome. From Letarouilly. 
 
 adornment, whereas the Chapel afforded a field for architectural display 
 Avhich has been painfully neglected.^ 
 
 Two other very celebrated works of Bramante at Rome are the 
 Palazzo Giraud and the Cancellaria. Both are so similar in style that 
 an illustration from one will suffice, as it shows all the beauties and 
 defects of his style. If we are to judge from it of what St Peter's 
 would have been had the architect's design been carried out, we may 
 feel assured that, like all he did, it would have been free from bad 
 taste, elegant and classical, but not distinguished by any grandeur of 
 conception in its parts, or any great originality of detail. So small 
 indeed are all the parts and proportions of his Iniildin'gs, that we can- 
 not help suspecting that what is great in the conception of St. Peter's 
 was due to the Pope rather than to his architect. He certainly was so 
 bad a builder that the task he left to his successors was first to pull 
 
 ' See Intruthiction. pp 10 to 17.
 
 HO IIISTOEY OF MODERN ARCHITECTUllE. Book I. 
 
 down and then to rebnild, before they conld complete any of his works 
 wliich he left nnfinished. 
 
 The fayade of the Cancellaria measnres 300 ft. in length, 85 ft. 6 in. 
 in height to the top of the cornice, and is divided into three great 
 storeys, or rather divisions — the lower rusticated, the two upper orna- 
 mented by pilastei-s, very much in the manner of the Rucellai Palace 
 at Florence (Woodcut No. 49), but not so successfully. Here the 
 Order is so widely spaced, and, owing to the introduction of jsedestals 
 to each of the pillars, so small, as to become comparatively insigni- 
 ficant, and merely ornamental, without any pretence of structural 
 propriety, and the introduction of a second storey in the upper division 
 further detracts from the truthfulness of the whole. Notwithstanding 
 these defects, there is an elegance about the details, and an absence of 
 anything offensively misplaced or vulgar, wliich renders it an extremely 
 pleasing design ; and we dwell on its beauties with the more pleasure 
 because we feel that we are so nearly approaching the dreadful 
 vulgarities of Michael Ajigelo, which were pei-petuated so soon after the 
 time of Bramante. 
 
 Next in age and importance to Bramante was Baldassare Peruzzi,^ 
 who, between the yeai-s 1510 and 1534, built some ten or twelve 
 palaces in Rome. One of the most elegant of these is the Farnesina, 
 a villa not far from the great Farnese Palace, but on the other side of 
 the Tiber. Its principal front is recessed between two projecting 
 wings of the same design, the whole consisting of two storeys of arcades 
 with pilaster's between, and with a deep frieze to the upper Order, into 
 wliich are introduced little square windows ; thus making it, on a 
 smaller scale, not unlike Sansovino's design for the Library at Venice. 
 Like many of the buildings of this age, the Farnesina is more 
 celebrated for its frescoes, representing the Loves of Cupid and 
 Psyche, after the designs of Raphael, than for its architectural design, 
 which, though elegant, can hardly be said to be remarkable either for 
 taste or grandeur. 
 
 A still more celebrated design of his is the Pietro Massimi Palace, 
 wliich shows considerable ingenuity of adaptation to an irregular site. 
 Many pleasing effects are also gained internally by its being combined 
 with the Angelo Massimi Palace, and the variety arishig from these 
 being placed at different angles the one from the other ; but beyond 
 the study and ingenuity which tliis combination displays, and the 
 general elegance of the details, there is notliing very remarkable in 
 the design, nor that would attract much attention anywhere else. 
 The Ossoli Palace (1525) is a better, but a tamer design, and 
 certainly unworthy of the fame it has acquired. Peruzzi, like 
 Bramante, seldom offends by vulgarity, and, building, as he did. 
 
 > Born 1481 ; clieJ 1536.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 ITALY: EOME. 
 
 141 
 
 ►among- the ruins of ancient Rome, his details are generally good and 
 elegant ; but his style is a painful contrast to the grandeur of that of 
 Florence, or the richness of the contemporary buildings at Venice. 
 
 We turn therefore with pleasure to the great Farnese Palace, 
 commenced in 1530, by Antonio da Sangallo,^ which, taking it with all 
 its faults, is still one of the grandest palatial designs in Italy. In the 
 first place, its dimensions are jnost imposing, as it consists of an 
 immense cubical mass, 260 ft. on the side by 192 in front, and 
 its three great storeys reach 97 ft. to the top of the cornice. Besides 
 these dimensions, there, is a simplicity in the design which is only 
 surpassed by the great Florentine examples. On the front and flanks 
 the lower storey is almost too plain, consisting merely of a range of 
 square-headed windows, . broken in 
 the centre of the : front by a 
 rusticated arched porte-cochere. On 
 the principal floor the windows in i 
 the centre are grouped together to fe^^^ 
 such an extent as to give rather an 
 appearance of weakness, considering 
 the great mass over them. Above 
 this Sangallo seems — from some 
 drawings which have been preserved 
 — to have designed a less important 
 storey, crowned by a complete 
 Corinthian entablature, the dimen- 
 sions of which were determined by 
 pilasters at the angles, nmning 
 through the two upper storeys. At 
 this point Michael Angelo was called 
 in, and designed the cornice, which 
 is the pride of the building, and the 
 grandest architectural feature in 
 
 modern Rome. Its projection and dimensions are such as would be 
 appropriate to an Order running through all the three storeys ; but, 
 fortunately, the pilasters which Sangallo suggested, and the arcllitra^'e, 
 are omitted, and it thus becomes a noble cornicione, without any 
 imitative classicality. While we have to thank this great man for this 
 feature, it is feared that we owe to him the upper range of round- 
 headed windows, w^hich are as vulgar and as bad in design as anything 
 that was ever done, and are here totally inexcusable. There was more 
 than sufficient height to have carried the entablature of the Order 
 which adorns the windows across them above the opening, without 
 breaking it ; l)ut merely to insert a block of it o\-er the pillars, and 
 
 Block Plan of the Farnese Palace at Rome. 
 Scale 100 feet to 1 Inch. 
 
 ' Boru 1470; died 1546.
 
 142 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 run the arches into the pediment, was a most unpardonable mistake in^ 
 such a situation. 
 
 The original design contemplated two courts, and from tliis cause, 
 apparently, the garden front was left unfinished, which enabled Giacomo 
 della Porta to insert the central compartment in three arcades, which, 
 though pleasing in itself, is inappropriate here, and to a great extent 
 mare a design with which it might easily have been brought itito 
 harmony by a slightly bolder treatment. 
 
 This is, nevertheless, the facade chosen for illustration (Woodcut 
 No. 58), inasmuch as it brings into instructive contrast the two great 
 principles of design then in vogue in Rome — the Astylar, which may 
 also be called the Florentine style, and the Arcaded, or "Amphi- 
 theatral " — if such a word may be introduced — which may be desig- 
 nated the Roman. For external purposes, there can be no doubt but 
 
 58. Garden front of the Farnese Palace, Rome. Scale lUO feet to 1 inch. From Letarouilly. 
 
 that the former was by far the most suitable. It could not indeed be 
 used with the same simpHcity as is found in the Farnese or at 
 Florence, except in buildings on as large a scale ; but it could easily 
 have been ornamented by panellings, mouldings, and window-dressings, 
 till it \\a'&j)etite enough for suburban villas, without ever losing its propriety 
 of proportion. The other, or Arcaded style, was equally suitable for 
 comtyards, especially in such a climate as Italy, but never could 
 attain the dignity of the Astylar as an external mode of decorative art. 
 
 The courtyard of the Farnese is an exact square in plan, 90 ft. 
 each way, and is surrounded by bold and deep arcades in three 
 storeys, the upper one, as usual, filled in with windows. The whole 
 is very grand, and not inappropriate to the bold simpUcity of the 
 exterior ; but its effect is considerably marred by the vulgar and 
 fantastic details in which Michael Angelo revelled, and which, though 
 excusable with his style of painting, are most destructive of archi- 
 tectural effect. It is impossible, indeed, to help 2)erceiving that the
 
 Chap. 1 1. 
 
 ITALY : ROME. 
 
 143 
 
 brush, and not the square and rule, was the instrument with which 
 all his designs were made. All these fantastic contrasts, Avhich may 
 be necessary for architectural decoration painted on a flat surface, are 
 introduced by him, l)oth here and elsewhere, in hard stone in relief. 
 The effect is not only most unpleasing in his own designs, but was 
 fatal in the school of imitators who with less genius sought to follow 
 his example. 
 
 Sangallo's other two great palaces — the Palma, built in 150G, and 
 the Sachetti, in 1540 — are characterized by all the good taste and 
 extreme simplicity of design which is found in his part of the Farnese. 
 To such an extent did he carry this, that it may almost be said to 
 amount to baldness in Palatial Architecture, though it might be 
 appropriate in works of a more monumental character. 
 
 Sansovino did very little in Eome, and that little is not remark- 
 able for any striking qualities. His contemporary, Giulio Romano ^ — 
 
 SjETCiTJrtffirtM^P^^ 
 
 Museum in the Capitol at Rome. From Letarouilly. 
 
 almost the only architect of this age who was a native of Rome — 
 built several palaces, and introduced in his buildings the same weak, 
 tricky style which characterizes his painting. An exception ought 
 })erhaps to be made in favour of the Villa Madama, which, if neither 
 very grand nor beautiful, is at least free from bad taste, and has some 
 pleasing points of design. 
 
 There are several palaces in Rome the designs of which are 
 attributed to Raphael, but which may more probably belong to 
 Giulio Romano, or some other of his contemporaries. This is of little 
 consequence ; for though it is certain Raphael did sketch designs for 
 palaces, it is not so clear that he ever practically carried them out : 
 and at a period when so much was borrowed from the Classical ages, 
 and so little really invented l)y the artist, there was not much left for 
 the architect but the arrangement of the parts. There was, conse- 
 (piently, but little scope for Raphael's peculiar talent for gentle 
 
 » Born 1492; died 1510.
 
 144 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book 1. 
 
 elegance, while the robust but somewhat vulgar energy of his great 
 rival made itself everywhere felt. 
 
 The only great group of Civic buildings in Rome which display 
 Michael Angelo's taste in design, are those in the Capitol. It is tme 
 the Palace of the Senators, commenced by Mm in 1563, was finished 
 by another hand after his death, but the Museum and the Palace 
 of the Conservatori are entirely his. They were commenced about 
 the year 1542, and are early specimens of the style of Corinthian 
 pilasters running through two storeys, which afterwards became so 
 • fasliionable, and, it must be admitted, are used here with a vigour 
 which goes far to redeem the impropriety of their introduction. The 
 details of the windows are better than is usual in this artist's works, 
 and the whole bears the impress of the hand of a giant in Art, but 
 tinctured with that vulgarity from which giants, it is feared, are 
 seldom, if ever, free. 
 
 Giacomo Barozzi da Yignola,^ one of the most celebrated architects 
 of this jxjriod, not only adorned Rome with some of its most elegant 
 buildings, but, with his contemporary, Palladio,^ may be said to have 
 completed the first period of the Renaissance. During the half-century 
 that preceded their advent, the last remnant of Gothic feeling had 
 been banished from Italy, and the whole tendency of the age was 
 towards a re^'ival of the Classic style. The architects of tliis epoch, 
 however, had by no means consented to a system of literal copying, 
 l)ut hoixid, out of the details and elegancies of Classic Art, to create a 
 new and original style, adapted to their own puiposes. 
 
 From long and enthusiastic study of the great remnants of anti- 
 quity, these two men became so imbued with admiration for the works 
 they were studying, that they never afterwards could emancipate 
 themselves from the feeling that Classical Art alone was worthy of 
 study, and that it could not be imitated with too great minuteness, 
 or reproduced with too great exactness. Having in consequence 
 thoroughly mastered the subject of their studies, they devoted their 
 lives to forwarding what seemed to them so all -important,^ and, both 
 by their writings and their practice, they sought, and with ill-fated 
 success, to fix the principles of their art on the basis of tliis literal repro- 
 duction of the great models of antiquity. Not only did they fix the exact 
 proportions of each of the so-called " Orders," and the profile of every 
 
 ' Born 1507; died 1.573. i course feel indignant if lold that their 
 
 - Born 1518; died 1580. I illicit affections must share the same fate 
 
 * Modern arcliitects, by study of me- ' as those of the Palladian school ; but it is 
 
 diieval cathedrals, &c., have arrived at j as certain that the reaction is not far off 
 
 precisely the same stage of fascination [ as that we are now a civilized people, and 
 
 •with their beauties which tlieir predeces- cannot consequently permanently admire 
 
 sors of the sixteenth century reached in barbarisms, nor be content with servile 
 
 regard to Classic Art. They would of imitations.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 ITALY : ROME. 
 
 145 
 
 Villa of IVipe Juliu-i, near Home. From Letaiouilly. 
 
 moulding, but they established canons for the superposition of Orders 
 on one another, and, in short, fixed on the Renaissance those principles 
 which gave it its distinctive character, but which also insured its 
 eventual decay. The human mind cannot rest satisfied without pro- 
 gress, and M^here the main principles of an art are fixed by arbitrary 
 rules beyond appeal, men are dri^'en to hizarreries in detail, in order 
 to produce new effects, and the incongruities between the parts 
 become daily more and more apparent. This was not felt in the age 
 of Vignola and Palladio, whose works, though generally tame, are 
 always elegant, and by the correctness of their Classical details disarm 
 the critic, who is bound to judge of them by the standard according 
 to which they were designed. 
 
 At Rome Yignola was not fortunate in having any great work to 
 design and carry out entirely by himself, though many of the palaces 
 owe some of their greatest beauties to his assistance. Tliere are 
 several small palaces, one especially in the Piazza Navoiia, wlii('h 
 display all the elegance of proportion and lieauty of detail which dis- 
 tinguish this architect. His best work, however, is perhaps the villa 
 of Pojx; Julius, outside the Flaminian Gate. He did not complete the 
 whole, but the facade (Woodcut No. r.<i) is certainly his, and dis]»lays 
 those peculiarities of design wliich prodnced such an eft'ect throughout 
 VOL. I. ]-
 
 HO 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN AllCUlTECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 Plan of the Palace of Caprarola. Scale 100 feel to 1 inch. 
 
 Europe that every detail of this biuldin<j^ may be found repeated over 
 and o\er again on this side of the Alps. There is not perhaps much 
 grandeur or any very remarkable feature about this design, but there 
 is an entire absence of bad taste or of any false principles, which in 
 that age is great praise. Another small summer-house, called the 
 
 Piflace of Canrarolj, near Eoinir-.
 
 Chap. II. ITALY : EOME. 147 
 
 Vigna, attached to this villa, is also partly of his design, and the 
 two together form perhaps the most elegant specimen of villa 
 architectm'e that Italy can boast of. If there is not the same amount 
 of elaboration in these as is found in any design of true Art, it is 
 simply that they are little more than one man's contribution of 
 thought — a real Classical or Media3val design includes that of 
 hundreds. If architects of that age had been content to follow the 
 path pointed out in such designs as these, the defect would ^'ery soon 
 have been remedied, but to do so would have required an amount of 
 self-denial which was hardly to be expected, and certainly was not 
 obtained. 
 
 Vignola's great work, however, and that by which he is best 
 known, is the Palace of Caprarola, which he Imilt, some thirty miles 
 from Rome, for the Cardinal Alessandro Farnese. The plan is 
 unique, or nearly so, being a pentagon, enclosing a circular court. 
 
 63. Fii(,ad" of the Collegio dtlla Sapienza. P'rom Letaiouilly. 
 
 Each of the five sides measures 130 ft. on plan, and the court is 65 ft. 
 in diameter, while the three storeys are each about 30 ft. in height : so 
 that its dimensions are veiy considerable, and certainly quite suffi- 
 ciently so for palatial purposes. The object of adopting the form 
 here used, was to give it a fortified or castellated appearance, as all 
 citadels of that age were pentagons, and this palace is accordingly 
 furnished with small sham bastions at each angle, which are supposed 
 to suggest that idea of defensibility so dear to the builder of castel- 
 lated mansions at the present day. Above the terrace formed by 
 these bastions and their curtains, the palace rises in two grand storeys 
 of " Orders," the lower arcaded in the centre, the upper including two 
 storeys of windows. This last is certainly a defect, but, notwith- 
 standing this, the whole is so well designed, the angles are so bold, 
 and the details are so elegant, that it is one of the finest palaces in 
 Italy ; and we may admire the ingenuity of the architect the more, 
 because the pentagonal form is singularly unfavoura])le to architec- 
 tural effect externally, or to commodious arrangements inside, and the 
 
 L 2
 
 148 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 site also is such that from most points of view it looks too high for its 
 other dimensions. Bat all these defects have been overcome in a 
 manner that makes us regret that its arcMtect was not more em- 
 ployed on the great works of his day. At St. Peter's he only added 
 the two small cupolas, one on each side of the dome, and made some 
 slight repairs or improvements to the other great churches of Eome. 
 
 The facade of the CoUegio della Sapienza, built by Giacomo della 
 Porta, in the year 1575, deserves to be quoted as one of the most suc- 
 cessful of its class in Eome, showing how nuich may be effected by 
 mere justness of proportion and elegance of detail, and as illustrating 
 the value of a solid and unadorned basement to anything that can be 
 
 CortUe of the Bcirghese Palace. From LotarouiUy. 
 
 placed upon it. Unfortunately such examples are rare, and the temp- 
 tation to spread pilasters over such a surface has ruined half the 
 fagades of Italy. 
 
 Of a very different character from tliis is the Collcgio Romano, the 
 fa9ade of which was built in the year 1582, by Bartolomeo Ammanati,^ 
 and wliich, though free from the defects of unmeaning Classicality, is 
 designed in a style quite as unconstnictive, and far more devoid of 
 elegance ; the whole fa§ade being divided into gigantic panels, enclos- 
 ing groups of windows, but neither representing the external con- 
 struction nor internal arrangements. 
 
 Nearly the same criticism applies, though in a somewhat le>s 
 degree, to the great Borghese Palace, l)uilt from the designs of Martino 
 Lunghi. the elder, about the year 1590. Its courtyard, however, is 
 singularly well proportioned, and a favourable example of what in 
 
 ' Born 1511; died 1592.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 ITALY: ROME, 
 
 149 
 
 most cases is the most pleasing as well as the most characteristic 
 feature of an Italian palace, though it is one that generally admits of 
 less variety of design than any other part. In this instance, however, 
 the objection is obviated by one side of the courtyard being an arcade, 
 only two storeys in height, and opening into the garden, affording a 
 prospect of scenic beauty and variety from the three other sides. 
 
 The Laterano Palace (A\^oodcuts Nos. 31 and 32), built from designs 
 of Dominico Fontana,^ about this period (1586), is little better than a 
 bad copy of the Farnese ; the smaller scale of its parts, and the fact of 
 the cornice being cut up by a range of small square windows inserted 
 in the frieze, destroying entirely the massive dignity of its prototype. 
 
 ''f^3'iiiijijiiiii,ii 
 
 View of the Barberini Palace, Rome. From Letarouilly, 
 
 The Barberini Palace, in so far as size or richness of detail is 
 concerned, is one of the most remarkable of the Roman Palaces ; but 
 unfortunately its architects were Carlo Maderno, Borromini,^ and 
 Bernini,^ and it was commenced at a time (1624 to 1630) when Archi- 
 tecture in Rome had already begun to decline, and caprice to take the 
 place of the simplicity of the school of Sangallo, or the purity of that 
 of Yignola. Notwithstanding defects, both in design and detail, the 
 dimensions of tliis palace are such as to give it an air of magnificence, 
 and its broken outline also renders it more picturesque than most of those 
 of Rome. It may also be added in its praise, that each storey is caref uUy 
 
 > Born 15-13; died 1607. ^ Bom 1599; died 1667. ^ Born 1598; died 1680.
 
 150 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 distinguished by its own Order, and it has escaped the bad taste and bad 
 grammar which Michael Angelo rendered fasliionable. It may also be 
 remarked that it possesses another merit in common with most of 
 the Roman palaces, of being finished and complete all round. In 
 Venice, as remarked above, even the best facades are generally only 
 appliqueps ,• if the design be returned at all, it is only to the extent of 
 one, or at most only two, bays round the corner, and all the rest is 
 mean and commonplace. This is a sad mistake in an architectural 
 [loint of view, and detracts very considera])ly from the beauty of the 
 Venetian designs. At Rome, on the contrary, though no one facade 
 may be so rich as those of Venice, the ornament is spread much more 
 e(|ually over the whole, and the buildings acquire an immense degree 
 of dignity and importance from having no mean parts anywhere 
 visible. 
 
 It would be tedious to attempt to enumerate all the other palaces 
 or civil buildings which continued to be erected at Rome during the 
 seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Many are remarkable for their 
 size, several by the richness of their facades, but none of them can be 
 considered either as objects worthy of admiration, or as models to be 
 followed in designing others. 
 
 It will be well, therefore (at first at least), to turn to the other cities 
 of Italy which possess buildings of the earlier period of the Renaissance, 
 in order that we may understand what really were the aims of the 
 architects of the period, and see how far they succeeded in attaining to 
 them. 
 
 IV. — ViCENZA. 
 
 Vicenza is a city dear to all admirers of the Renaissance style, not 
 only as being the birthplace of Palladio, but as containing by far the 
 greatest number, as well as the most celebrated, productions of his 
 genius. Strange to say, it is not, however, in Vicenza that these can be 
 studied to the greatest advantage, as, unfortunately, most of them are 
 of brick concealed under stucco, and are constructed with Avooden 
 architraves, and all the shams we blame so much in the Architecture 
 of the present day. The city, too, is now sunk into decay, and most 
 of its palaces are deserted, so that the buildings themselves have an 
 air of shabby decay most destructive to architectural effect, and are in 
 consequence better studied in drawings, and in the numberless copies 
 of them which exist in this and other countries on this side of the 
 Alps. 
 
 An illustration of the Valmarina Palace has already been given 
 (page 42, Woodcut No. 7), as an example of Palladianism in excess. 
 Its defects, however, are even more apparent on the spot than in the 
 drawings, inasmuch as it is situated on one side of a street so narrow 
 that it is impossilile to get far enough away to obtain a good view of it.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 ITALY: VICENZA. 
 
 151 
 
 An architect might be excused for exaggerating his details, if his building 
 were to be placed on one side of a very large piazza, or at the end of 
 a \'ery long vista ; but in a narrow street the details of a facade ought 
 to be designed almost as if for an interior — as things which must be 
 seen near, and can only be grasped in detail. 
 
 It is probable that the Tiene Palace owes its design, in part at least, 
 to its proprietor. It is, however, always published in Palladio's works, 
 
 Part of Facade of the Tiene Palace, Vicenza. From Palladio's 'Architettura. ' 
 
 and generally quoted as one of his most successful designs. All its 
 parts are indeed good in themselves, but they are put together in a 
 manner by no means creditable to the architect. The basement is 
 rusticated with more than Herculean Iwldness ; but when it is perceived 
 — which cannot be concealed — that it is only brick covered with 
 stucco, the effect is far from pleasing, and it is less so when it is 
 considered that this tremendous rustication is only designed to support 
 a range of delicate Corinthian pilasters. Between these, however, are 
 windows, rusticated with all the rudeness of the basement, but again, the 
 whole is crowned by an entablature belonging to the Corinthian Order.
 
 152 
 
 HISTORY OF MODEKN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 Palladio's taste redeems these incongruities to a certain extent, but it 
 was inexcusable to use such a rustication with the materials employed, 
 and still more so to combine a Corinthian Order with features so little in 
 accordance with its dehcate elegance. 
 
 Internally the arrangement is better. The arcades of both storeys 
 are well proportioned and elegant, and though it would have been better 
 if the attic could have been omitted, it is well kept under, and therefore 
 as little obtrusive as could be expected. 
 
 It is seldom, however, that Palladio confined himself to a single 
 Order in only one storey. In the Valmarina and Barbarano it runs 
 through two ; and, as in the court of the Oarita at Venice, Ave find in 
 the Porto Palace in Vicenza,^ that the court is suiTounded by twenty 
 great columns of the Composite Order, supporting, at half their height, 
 
 ? '.....'p 
 
 Elevation of Chiericate Palace, Vicenza. From Palladio's 'Arcbitetturu.' 
 
 a gallery on Corinthian pilasters stuck to their backs. A more common 
 arrangement in Palladio's buildings was to place one Order above 
 the other. In the wings of the Cliiericate Palace, where both stand free, 
 this is comparatively unobjectionable ; but in the centre, where the 
 upper Order is filled in with windows, and consequently the solids are 
 placed over the A'oids, the effect is most unpleasing. At Vicenza this 
 is, notwithstanding, considered one of Palladio's best designs, and has 
 recently been put into a state of thorough repair, and appropriated as 
 the museum and picture-gallery of the town. It is therefore seen as 
 Palladio designed and finished it, and the result is certainly very 
 unworthy of his fame. A l)uilding open and \\eak at the angles, and 
 solid in the centre, is always unsatisfactory, though the defect occurs in 
 the Valmarina and others of his designs ; but when we add to this that 
 
 ' Sccondo libio ' Dell Architettura di a Palladio,' p. 8.
 
 Chap. IL 
 
 ITALY: VICENZA. 
 
 153 
 
 the centre is full above and weak below, Ave have probably enumerated 
 all the worst elements that can well be introduced into the arrangement 
 of a design. Nothing, in fact, redeems this fagade but that exquisite 
 proportion of parts, and that indefinaVjle elegance of detail, which disarm 
 the critic of Palladio's works, and, in spite of the worst possible 
 arrangements, still leave a ])leasing impression on the mind of the 
 spectator. 
 
 Taking it all in all, the annexed design for the Barbarano Palace 
 perhaps -shows Palladio's style to the best advantage. The proportion 
 of the Orders one to - 
 another is good, so is that 
 of the solids to the voids, 
 and the whole has a 
 palatial ornamental air, 
 and with as little false 
 decoration as is perhaps 
 compatible with the style. 
 Still it certainly would 
 have been better if the 
 figures over the pediments 
 and the wreaths dependent 
 from the brackets had 
 been omitted ; or, if mon 
 ornament was desired, 
 panelling or patera would 
 have supplied their place 
 as effectually and far 
 more appropriately. 
 
 One of this architect's 
 most admired designs is 
 the Rotunda, or Villa del 
 Caj^ra, in the neighbour- 
 hood of this city. It is 
 a square of about 70 ft. 
 each way, with an enclosed 
 but projecting portico on 
 
 each face, of the Ionic order, and having a domical apartment of 30 feet 
 diameter in the centre. It is perhaps the most Classical and temple-like 
 design ever applied to Domestic Architecture, and has in consequence been 
 so much admired that in this country it has been repeated four or five 
 times over ; and copies, more or less exact, are found in every country 
 of Europe. It certainly is not suited to domestic purposes, especially in 
 
 68. Barbarano Palace.i Vicenza. From Palladio's 'Arcbitettura.' 
 
 ' The exterior of the Torto Palace is almost identical with this, except that the 
 lower Order is omitted-
 
 154 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 northern climes ; but there is a charm about it which it is impossible to 
 deny, and it possesses as few offences against constructive propriety as 
 any design of the sort which has yet been produced, and may safely lie 
 regarded as one of the most successful efforts of this architect's genius. 
 Its situation, too, is such as almost to excuse it from the charge of 
 affectation in applying Temple Architecture to domestic purposes, for 
 it stands on a rounded grassy knoll, seen from below on all sides, and 
 fits most gracefully to its situation. Anything less regular or less 
 monumental would have been out of place there, but the copies of it 
 that exist in this country have none of them this excuse, and without 
 such a site a four-porticoed house must always be more or less an 
 anomaly. 
 
 If we take into consideration the difficulties Palladio had to en- 
 counter, we nmst feel tliat he showed even more talent in the manner 
 
 Villa del Capra, near Vlceiiza. From Pallalio. 
 
 ill which he rebuilt the arcades round the Mediasval basilica of his 
 native city than he displayed in works already noticed. In order to 
 understand what he had to do here, it is necessary to cast a glance at 
 the basilica of Padua, which still retains its pointed-arched arcades ; 
 and if we compare the two, we shall see at once not only how success- 
 fully Palladio adapted the new mode of decoration to the old form, but 
 why the Italians so willingly and so enthusiastically abandoned their 
 Medieval style for the revived Classical. We, on this side of the Alps 
 had not their excuse, for our Gothic was an elegant and perfect style, 
 theii-s an incomplete and clumsy borrowing from the northern nations. 
 So much is this the case, that even no^v the veriest fanatko for 
 Mediaeval Art must admit the superiority of the external appearance 
 of the Vicentine over the Paduan basilica as they now stand. 
 
 One of the great difficulties Palladio had to contend with was that 
 he was obliged to make one opening of his arcade correspond with two
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 ITALY : VICENZA. 
 
 155 
 
 openings of the hall. This obliged him to widen his arcades more than 
 was qnite desirable, l)nt, as they had nothing to carry lieyond their 
 own weight, this is comparatively of little conseqnence ; and by break- 
 ing the entablatnre over his princi^ml Order, he made it evident that 
 this was really the case, and that they Avere merely ornamental. This 
 spreading of the three or seven central arcades enabled him to contract 
 the angle ones, so as to accentnate and give strength exactly where it 
 was wanted, and so to take off all that appearance of weakness which, 
 as noted above, is so connnon a fault in his designs, and makes the 
 pains he has taken to avoid it here all the more remarkable. 
 
 Had Palladio done nothing else than this arcade, his fame would 
 
 70. 
 
 Ead Elevation of Basilica at Vicenza. Scale 50 feet to 1 inch. 
 
 have stood higher than it does, and justly so ; for, taking it all in all, 
 it is perhaps not too much to say that what he added to this great 
 hall is the hajjpiest adaptation of Classical Art to modern pui^Doses 
 which has yet been executed in Europe, and, though not faultless, 
 it is on the whole less oj^en to animadversion than any design of 
 modern times. 
 
 If, indeed, all Paliadio's designs were as beautiful and as appro- 
 priate as this, we should have little fault to find either with the 
 style he adopted or his mode of applying it. But the task he imposed 
 on himself, or rather that his age imposed on him, was one that no 
 human ingenuity could successfully perform : it was to adapt the 
 Tem])]e Architecture of an extinct civilisation to the Ecclesiastical, 
 the Municipal, and Domestic Architecture of his own time. That
 
 156 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 he failed is not to be wondered at ; on the contrary, he deserves 
 all praise for the extent to which he did succeed. We are always 
 pleased in his works by the evidence of a refined and cultivated 
 mind, joined with the innate perception of proportion and fitness 
 which constitute the architectural faculty. We never see in them 
 the broken pediments or contorted mouldings of Michael Aniijelo, or 
 the unstructural caprices of Borromini or Guarini. Every feature 
 and every moulding is used apparently for the purpose for which 
 it was designed, and always with elegauce ; and generally the solids 
 are so well proportioned to the voids that the stability seems perfect, 
 and the proportions of the masses are also generally well balanced. 
 Against all this we have to remark that in nine cases out of ten 
 the construction is one thing, the ornamentation totally distinct from 
 it. This, it is true, was an inherent part of the problem, but, where 
 it exists, true and satisfactory Architecture is impossible. This was 
 not the case with the early Florentine or the early Roman Art, but 
 it became so wherever the Orders were used to the extent and with 
 the importance which Palladio gave them, and which, in fact, is 
 the cause of all the defects of his architecture and of that of his 
 school. 
 
 V. — Genoa. 
 
 No city of Italy is more favourably situated for architectural 
 display than Genoa, and had its advantages been properly availed of, 
 nothing would have been finer than the amphitheatre of palaces 
 which might have arisen around her bay. Unfortunately those 
 which do line its shores and are seen from the sea are all the older 
 and less ornamental buildings, which have in modern times been 
 dreadfully mutilated and disfigured, first to widen the quay, and 
 next to convert them into hotels and to other utilitarian uses, to 
 which they are now almost without exception applied. 
 
 No two places in Italy form so marked a contrast in all their 
 principal features as the rival cities of Venice and Genoa. In the 
 first all is flat and levelled by the water-line of her streets ; the other 
 hardly possesses a foot of level ground, and half the streets are 
 impassable for carriages, from their steepness. In Venice all is 
 silence and decay ; in Genoa all is bustle and noise ; and the traveller 
 has difficulty in preventing himself being run over in the principal 
 streets — just wide enough for two carriages to pass, and not suffi- 
 ciently so to allow trottoirs to be abstracted from the carriage-way. 
 The Architecture of the two cities is even more strongly contrasted. 
 Venice is full of Mediaeval palaces of most romantic interest ; Genoa 
 has not one worthy of notice. When Venice adopted the Renaissance 
 style, she used it with an aristocratic elegance that relieves even its 
 most fantastic forms in the worst age. h\ Genoa there is a pretentious
 
 Chap. II. ITALY : GENOA. 157 
 
 parvenu vulgarity in even the best examples, which offends in spite of 
 considerable architectural merit. Their size, their grandeur, and 
 their grouping may force us to admire the palaces of Genoa ; Imt for 
 real beauty, or architectural propriety of design, they will not stand a 
 moment's comparison with the contemporary or earlier palaces of 
 Florence, Eome, or Venice. 
 
 The true palatial magnificence of the city is confined to a range of 
 narrow streets at the back of the town — the Strade Balbi, Nuova, 
 and Nuovissima — which in the sixteenth century were added to it. 
 These, with the exception of one or two small, confined Piazzi, com- 
 prise all that Genoa is most celebrated for ; and, though the palaces 
 situated in these places are not perhaps worthy of all the praise that 
 has been lavished on them, they form a splendid group, and have a 
 local individuality and character which render them an interesting 
 study when considered in juxtaposition with the other cities whose 
 buildings have just been alluded to. 
 
 Galeasso Alessi, ^ who was the architect of nine-tenths of the most 
 remarkable buildings of Genoa, had none of the classical elegance 
 of his contemporaries Palladio and Vignola ; but his style was also 
 free from the incongruities Avhich their blind admiration of the 
 antique induced them sometimes to introduce into their designs. 
 Being, on the other hand, much more of an architect and less of a 
 painter than Michael Angelo, he never fell into those unconstructivc 
 absurdities which disfigure all the buildings of that great man. He 
 never ran gigantic pilasters through two or three storeys, and then 
 stuck attics on the top of them, so as to falsify the construction of 
 the whole. 
 
 The real merit of the Genoese palaces is that they really arc what 
 they seem. If pilasters are used, they are mere decorations. Pillars 
 are never introduced when not wanted ; and, above all, the cornice is 
 always the principal feature of the design, and always at the top of 
 the wall — attics being almost unknown in Genoa ; and windoAvs are 
 only introduced when and Avhere they, are wanted. With these 
 elements it is difhcult to fail ; and Alessi only wanted a little more 
 elegance in designing his details, and a little better material to work 
 with, in order to have attained a great success. The last mentioned 
 is, in fact, one of the principal defects of the Genoese buildings, though 
 not the fault of the architect ; for, though it is usual for tourists to 
 talk glibly of the marlile palaces of Genoa, it is a melancholy fact 
 that, except some of the black and white media3val edifices, there is 
 not a single facade in the city built wholly of that material. 
 
 About one-third of the Genoese palaces are plain buildings of 
 rubble masonry, covered with stucco — the windows without dressings. 
 
 1 Born 1500; died 1572.
 
 158 
 
 HISTORY OP MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I. 
 
 and the fa9ade with scarcely an ornamental featnre except the porch 
 and the cornices. The intention was, not only to paint the archi- 
 tectural mouldings on the stucco, hut to paint frescoes between them. 
 This has been done in many instances, but in some it is so completely 
 
 Durazzo Palace, Genoa. Krum Gauihier. Scale 50 feet tu 1 inch, 
 
 washed off that it is difficult to detect the traces of it ; in some it 
 exists in so faded a condition that the subject can hardly l)e made 
 out ; and in others it flares forth in all the staring vulgarity of 
 pretentious newness. 
 
 One of the l)est examples of this style is the Palazzo Durazzo in 
 the Strada Balbi. It is very doul)tful whether its painting was ever 
 carried out, and it certainly is better without it. To make a building 
 of this class effective requires considerable dimensions, the o])enings 
 
 Tuisi Duria Palace, Genoa. Fiuui Gautbier. Scale 50 leet to 1 inch. 
 
 large and as few as possible, and a cornice of bold jirojection ; but 
 with these elements it may be both grand and beautiful, and possess 
 all the principal rerpiirements of architectural excellence. Though 
 as plain and devoid of ornament as it is almost possible for any 
 design to be. this one is as effective and as ])leasing as any ]».ihice 
 in the city.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 ITALY: GENOA. 
 
 159 
 
 In a second class all the ornaments that were painted in the first 
 are carried ont in stncco ; which is certainly an improvement on 
 paint, but, in the hands of Galeasso Alessi, is frequently offensive 
 from its vulgarity, though fortunately not from its want of construc- 
 tive propriety. 
 
 The Municipalita in the Strada Nuova, formerly the Palazzo 
 Tursi Doria, is the most admired example of this. The dimensions of 
 this and the Durazzo 
 Palace are very nearly 
 identical ; their extent, 
 measured from the ex- 
 tremities of the wings, 
 being about 200 feet, 
 their height 85 feet, and 
 their design is also very 
 similar ; but the orna- 
 ments of the Munici- 
 palita give it a striking 
 effect of richness and 
 grandeur, which is con- 
 siderably aided by the 
 narrowness of the street, 
 or rather lane, in whicli 
 it is situated. 
 
 In a third class the 
 dressings of the windows 
 and doorways, and in a 
 few even the string 
 courses, are of marble ; 
 but the expense of the 
 material has apparently 
 induced the architects 
 who have used it so to 
 pare down the jirojec- 
 tions that, instead of 
 being an advantage, the 
 buildings in wliich it is 
 employed are the least 
 
 satisfactory of all. It may be added that a great deal that looks like 
 marble at first sight is in reality merely paint, and by no means well done. 
 
 Taken by itself, the most magnificent of the palaces of Genoa is 
 that formerly known as the Durazzo (Marcello), now the Royal Palace, 
 with a facade in the Strada Balbi 300 ft. in length. Its style is 
 similar to that of the Municipalita (Woodcut No. 72), l)ut its height, 
 about 7o ft., is hardlv sufficient to its length, and would not be so if 
 
 73. Purl of Fai;aile of Carega Palace, (fjiioa From Gautliier.
 
 160 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCPIITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 it could ever be seen in front ; but, being, as usual, in a narrow street, 
 this defect is not apparent. Its details are all designed on the largest 
 scale, and the composition of the whole fagade so bold, and, it must be 
 added, so honest, that the effect is on the whole satisfactory. 
 
 The Ducal Palace was almost entirely rebuilt after the fire in the 
 year 1778, and may be considered as more French than Italian in 
 design. It is, however, a very elegant building, though most of its 
 l^illars are only painted marl)le. Its great hall is the finest room in the 
 city. 
 
 One of Alessi's principal works is the Carega Palace, one of the 
 largest, and generally considered one of the handsomest in Genoa, the 
 fagade l)eing a scpiare of about 93 ft. in width and height, but divided 
 into seven storeys externally, three being in the basement, two under the 
 lower Order, one under the next, and the last between the consoles of 
 the cornice. Only the architrave of the lower Order is left between the 
 two, and the whole decoration is so evidently applied only to cover a 
 space with which it has no constructive affinity, that the effect is very 
 unsatisfactory. 
 
 The Sauli Palace, said to be by the same architect, is more pleasiug, 
 as it consists, in the garden front, of two well-defined storeys 
 ornamented with Orders, with arches between. On the lower storey 
 are Doric pillars, and a rich frieze crowns the upper or Corinthian 
 order. Towards the street there is considerable al)ility displayed in the 
 way the central block is kept back, and the courtyard with its two 
 wings thrown forward to the front. There is, in fact, more Hght 
 and shade, and more variety of design, in this palace than in any in 
 Genoa ; and, if its details were a little more pure, it might challenge 
 comparison in some respects with any in Italy. The same architect 
 built the Lercari, Grimaldi, and Justiniani Palaces, and, in fact, 
 happening to live at a moment of unwonted prosperity, and when a 
 great extension of the city w^as taking place in the direction of the 
 Strade Balbi and Nuova, he has left his mark more essentially on the 
 place than any of his successors. 
 
 In addition to other peculiarities, it may be mentioned that many 
 of the greater palaces of the city are painted red ; some green, some 
 blue, and a great many yellow. All this produces in that climate a 
 rich and sparkling effect, very taking at first sight ; though it can 
 hardly be denied that using coloured materials must be a more 
 legitimate mode of producing an architectural effect, than merely 
 painting the mouldings on plaster. The fact is that the imposing 
 appearance of these palaces is mainly due to the situations in which 
 they are found. Nothing can well be more startling than to see six, 
 eight, or ten great palaces, each standing separately, in a street barely 
 36 ft. in width, or to find in narrow lanes and small courts, great 
 palatial masses six and seven storeys in height, covered with orua-
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 ITALY : GENOA. 
 
 161 
 
 meiit, and crowned by massive cornices, while yon stand so close 
 beneath that their effect is donbled by the angle nnder which they are 
 seen. 
 
 By far the most l)eantifnl featnres of the greater palaces of Genoa 
 are their courtyards, though these, architecturally, consist of nothing 
 but ranges of arcades, resting on attenuated Doric pillars. These are 
 generally of marble, sometimes grouped in pairs, and too frequently 
 with a block of an entablature over each under the springing of the 
 arch ; but, notwithstanding these defects, a cloistered court is always 
 and inevitably pleasing, even if not beautiful in detail, and, if comlnned 
 with gardens and scenery beyond, which is generally the case in this 
 city, the effect, as seen from the streets, is so poetic as to disarm 
 criticism. All that dare to l)e said is that, beautiful as they are, with a 
 
 ^pmm ^^mii^i mm i^mmT^mrw~. 
 
 Little BrifjnoUi Palace, Genoa. From Gautliier. 
 
 little more taste and judgment they might have been ten times moiv so 
 than they are now. 
 
 A more pleasing class of design than the greater buildings just 
 described are the smaller palaces, such as the Balbi, Mari, and Little 
 Brignola, each with seven windows in front, three recessed in the 
 centre, and two in each wing, — in the two iirst-named palaces pro- 
 jecting in front of the centre, and carried only to the height of the 
 principal storey, and, consec|uently, with a terrace roof ; but whether 
 so used or not, the whole forms a most pleasing composition, peculiar 
 to Genoa, and exhibiting her style of Architecture under its most 
 pleasing aspect. But even these are not such as would escape 
 criticism elsewhere, or would be tolerated if erected at the present day. 
 
 Taking it altogether, the study of the Palatial Architecture of Genoa 
 is as instructive as that of any other city of Italy, though neither so 
 beautiful nor so interesting as tliat of several others. The Genoese 
 
 VOL. I. ^I
 
 ](J2 HISTORY OF MODERN APtCHlTECTURE. Book I. 
 
 palaces are remavkal)k', tiret, for their size, and the largeness of their 
 parts — qualities which are immensely exaggerated by the narrowness of 
 the streets and conrts in which they are situated. They have also the 
 immense advantage of standing free, each by itself, but still in close 
 proximity to the next ; thus the grouping produces an effect of 
 magnificence in the whole which adds to the importance of each ; and 
 they are also, as a rule, free from any attempt to imitate or reproduce 
 Classical or any other models. 
 
 Against these must be placed the badness of the material, the 
 coarseness and frequently the incongniity of the details, and that 
 sometimes their architecture is either only painted in, or accentuated 
 by paint, with a crudeness very closely approaching to \^ilgarity. If, 
 in addition to these defects, the " Orders " had been allowed to govern 
 the designs to the extent they were made to do so in other cities, the 
 effect would have been most painful ; but because they are palaces, 
 and palaces only, and because their windows, their doors, and, above 
 all, their cornices, are in their right places, and in due subordination 
 to one another, all these defects are overlooked, and the impression 
 the Genoese palaces generally produce is one of almost unmitigated 
 admiration. 
 
 VI.— Maxtua. 
 
 The Palazzo del Tc has acquired such celebrity that it is im- 
 possible to pass it o\ev in a History of Architecture ; but no building 
 ever less merited its fame than it does. Originally it was intended as 
 a stable, or rather as a sort of hunting-box outside the walls of 
 Mantua ; and Giulio Romano was employed, most appropriately, by 
 the Marquis Frederigo Gonzaga, to paint portraits of his favourite 
 hoi-ses on the walls of the only large apartment the building then 
 possessed. The Marquis was, it seems, so pleased ^\-ith the result of 
 the experiment, that the palace was extended to what we now see it, 
 and all the principal rooms adorned with frescoes by Giulio or his 
 pupils. Though these are as vulgar as most of the productions of 
 this overrated artist, it may be that they entitle the building to some 
 of the notoriety it has acquired ; but its architecture certainly is such 
 that, if found elsewhere, and under another name, no one would turn 
 to look at it. 
 
 The building is nearly a square, externally ISO ft. by 186 ft,, and 
 30 ft. in height to the top of the cornice. It is rusticated throughout 
 in coarse stucco, and, besides this, its only ornament consists in a range 
 of mean Doric pilasters, spread sparsely over the surface, and sur- 
 mounted by a Doric entablature of very ordinary design. Between 
 these pilasters are two ranges of windo^As, the lower ones of fair 
 dimensions, ami above these, a range of square attic-looking openings.
 
 Chap. II. ITALY : MILAN. 163 
 
 Throughout half the palace these last are mere shams, the principal 
 rooms occupying the whole height of the building, where one range 
 consequently only was required, and had it been adopted might have 
 given a dignity to the design, in which it is now so sadly deficient. 
 
 Internally, the building surrounds a court of the same design, about 
 120 ft. square, from which a loggia leads, across a bridge, into a garden 
 with architectural embelUshments. This loggia is, in fact, the only 
 architectural feature of any merit in the whole building. Its propor- 
 tions are good, its ornaments well designed, and the colours judiciously 
 applied, but it is very small, and only in stucco. The charm of the 
 palace, in so far as Architecture is concerned, depends on the coffering 
 and colouring of the ceilings, which display an amount of design, and of 
 fancy combined with elegance, seldom seen elsewhere, and consequently 
 worthy of all praise, but they will not suffice to redeem the building 
 from the reproach of being, externally at least, of the tamest common- 
 place as an architectural design. If we assume that painting is the 
 proper mode of ornamenting interiors, it is the painter, not the architect, 
 that must decide how far this is or is not a successful specimen of the 
 art. But this does not affect the criticism that may be applied to the 
 exterior, which is only coarsely yellow-washed, and is not entitled to the 
 admiration generally bestowed upon it by those who admire the works of 
 the painter in the halls it encloses. 
 
 If Giulio Eomano was forced to tame his fancies in the design of 
 this structure, he gave full rein to them in the design of the facade of 
 the Palazzo Colloredo in this city, which he adorned with gigantic 
 caryatides, of the vulgarest and most fantastic design conceivable. 
 Nothing that Michael Angelo ever did was so exaggerated as this. 
 With all his faults, he never employed great grotesque figures in stucco 
 as a means of producing an effect appropriate to a nobleman's palace in 
 the street of a city. 
 
 When such things were done so early in the age of the Renaissance, 
 one cannot but feel grateful to Palladio, and others of his school, for 
 bringing back Art within the bounds of moderation ; for, however tame 
 some of their designs may be, the worst of them is better than such a 
 nightmare of vulgarity as we find in this and some other of the designs 
 of the early part of the sixteenth century,^ 
 
 VII.— Milan. 
 
 During the whole of the Renaissance period Milan continued to be 
 one of the most important and richest cities of Northern Italy ; perhaps 
 even relatively more so than during the Mediaeval period, during which, 
 however, she was able to erect the finest Gothic Church in Italy. Yet, 
 
 Giulio Romano died in 1546. 
 
 M 2
 
 164 
 
 IIISTOKY OF MODERN AKCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book 
 
 strange to say, there is scarcely any city in that country so deficient in 
 examples of architectural magnificence as Milan continued to be during 
 the whole of this period. She produced no architect, gave fame or name 
 to none, and does not possess any specimens of Renaissance Art on 
 which we dwell with pleasure, or love to quote, as calling up reminiscences 
 of beauty ; the one obvious exception to this being the great court of 
 the Ospidale Grande, which is one of the most remarkable buildings of 
 its class of that, or indeed of any age. 
 
 It was commenced in the year 14r)(], by Francesco Sforza and his 
 wife Bianca, nearly on the scale on which we now see it completed, but 
 
 Great r„in\. of tli:; Uusi,it.il a! .M.l.in. I'nnn a ['hutugrapli. 
 
 they only lived to finish the northeru wing, consisting of four courts 
 comprised in a square, of about o4o ft. each way. Considering the age 
 at which it was erected, the design is much more Mediseval than might 
 be expected, especially from a Florentine architect like FHarete, who was 
 its author. All the external windows are pointed, and adorned with 
 quasi-Gothic mouldings, and internally the arcades that surround the 
 courts partake much more of Medieval than they do of Renaissance 
 design. They are so built up now, and so disfigured by additions, that 
 it is difficult to judge of their effect, but enough can still be made out 
 to show that, when new, these courts must have been as appropriate
 
 Chap. II. ITALY : MILAN. I(j5 
 
 to their purposes as they were effective in an architectural point 
 of \iew. 
 
 To the northern face of this block Bramante added a portico or 
 corridor of the Ionic order, bearing arches, and he may either have 
 added a portion of the upper corridor, or at least left the design for it ; 
 but there the matter rested till the year 1G21, when, a large sum of 
 money having been left to the charity by a Dr. Carcano, the architect 
 Richini was employed to erect the central court. With a degree of taste 
 and modesty as commendable as it is unusual, he resolved to complete 
 Bramante's design round the three other sides, and this is done so 
 literally that, except the window-dressings and some other details, in 
 which we detect the seventeenth century, the whole design of the court 
 may be ascribed to Bramante. It is l)y far the finest thing of its kind 
 in Italy. In Spain there are some that equal, if they do not surpass it ; 
 but, except the court of the Venetian Palace at Rome, and one or two 
 other less important examples, there. is really nothing to compare with it 
 in Italy. 
 
 The dimensians of this court are '2io ft. by 220, from one face of 
 the colonnade to the other, which are perhaps greater than so delicati' 
 a design can well sustain ; and it possesses nineteen arches on the one 
 side and twenty-one on the other. Its great beauty, however, consists 
 in the ])roportion of the two superimposed colonnades one to another, 
 and of all tlie parts to the work they have to perform. The effect is 
 due, even more than this, to the amount and exquisite beauty of the 
 details with which the whole is covered, and its great crowning cornice 
 is perhaps, for the situation it occupies, the most successful instance of 
 design of this age which Italy possesses. In a smaller court such a 
 cornice would be too deep and too bold, but here its proportions are as 
 near perfection as can well be conceived, and all its details form a 
 triumph of the art of design. 
 
 The external facade towards the strei^t was added at the same time, 
 and, by a singularity found nowhere else, the pointed arches of Filarete's 
 design were repeated here, with only such modifications of detail as it is 
 difficult to detect, but, strange to say, they are encased in a design which 
 bespeaks most unmistakably the date of the seventeenth century, to 
 which it belongs. The effect of this is not so unpleasing as might be 
 expected from this incongruity of parts, though it might have been 
 better had they been brought a little more into harmony. 
 
 The third portion of the hospital has been completed in more modern 
 times, and in a style so utterly tame and tasteless that it could only be 
 found in Milan of all Italian cities. 
 
 Among the palaces of this city, the most original, if not the most 
 beautiful, of the age to which it belongs, is the Casa Rotta,^ opposite 
 
 ' ISaid to be designed by Leone Leon', otherwise known as the Civaliere Aretiiio.
 
 166 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 tlie Scala, and now used as the Custom-house. The prhicipal fayade is 
 divided into three well-defined storeys, and ornamented with pilasters 
 and a profusion of decoration, not certainly in the best taste, but never 
 offensively vulgar and miconstructional. Its peculiarity is that it looks 
 more like our Elizabethan, or as if erected in what might be called the 
 Heidelberg style, it has so little affinity with the principal contemporary 
 works in Italian cities. The courtyard is equally overdone with orna- 
 ment, but the whole is singularly picturesque, and so free from errore 
 of design, that we can forgive a little tendency towards the grotesque 
 in a country where taraeness and classicality are the besetting sins of the 
 designers. 
 
 The Brera possesses some good points of design, but is indebted to 
 its size more tlian to any other cause for its effect ; and the Broletto, 
 or Palazzo della Citta, exhibits some pleasing bits of detail. It is an 
 early specimen of the Renaissance style, but is too small, and too 
 confined in situation, to display much architectural grandeur, so that 
 all it attains to is a certain amount of picturesqueness, which is seldom 
 wanting in Iniildings of its age. The Royal and Archbishop's Palaces, 
 which occupy the whole of the south side of the piazza in which the 
 Cathedral stands, and the new buildings which fonn its eastern side, 
 are all large enough, and witli a sufficiency of ornament, to make them 
 important in an architectural point of view, but are of such common- 
 place design as to be unworthy of notice. In almost any other city of 
 Italy they would have arrested attention, but Milan was cither too 
 (Jerman, or at all events too inartistic, to be able to avail herself of her 
 opportunities. 
 
 VIII.— Ttrix, Naples, &c. 
 
 Turin possesses little that need aiTcst the student of Architecture 
 as a fine art. One of her earliest architects was Guarini,^ a man who 
 out-Heroded Borromini in the theatrical style of his art, and always 
 sought to produce effects which might startle and sometimes please 
 on the stage, but which are absolutely destructi\'e when applied to so 
 permanent an art as that of Architecture. He was succeeded by Ivara 
 and Vanvitelli, men with as little feeling for Art as can well be imagined, 
 but whose good fortune it was to live in an age when the art was at its 
 lowest ebb — so low that their productions were universally admired by 
 their contemporaries, and they were consequently everywhere employed. 
 
 The Caserta Palace at Naples was erected by the latter, who had 
 there such an opportunity as had not fallen to any architect in Italy of 
 his day, it being the largest and most nobly decorated palace executed 
 in that country since the Renaissance. The building (Woodcut No. 76) 
 
 ' Born 1624; died 1683.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 ITALY : NAPLES. 
 
 167 
 
 was commenced in I7i^>'2, and is an immense rectangle, 7()(! I'L. long by 
 500 ft. wide, and 125 ft. high from the ground to the t()[) of the 
 l)ahistrade. At each angle there is a square pavilion, and a high dome 
 crowns the centre, but so placed as not to be seen externally, except at a 
 distance. The design is perfectly uniform throughout, and consists of 
 a rusticated basement, including two storeys of windows and a sunk 
 storey. Above this is au interminable range of Ionic pilasters, with 
 two storeys of large windows between each pair, and a smaller range in 
 the frieze. The facades are only broken by very slight projections in 
 the centre and at the ends, which, however, are hardly sufficient to 
 destroy the painful monotony of the whole design. The best part of the 
 arrangement is that the centre is divided into four e(jual courts by two 
 
 I'ortion of the F.K^ade of the Palace of the Caserta at Najiles. 
 
 ranges of buildings containing the chapel, the great staircase, and bnlls 
 leading to the state apartments, which are thus arranged not only with 
 great convenience, but with very considerable architectural effect, 
 internally ; and a little more art would have made the courts themselves 
 pleasing and effective. As a whole it is perhaps better than the 
 Escurial, but otherwise it is as tame and uninteresting a design as any 
 city in Europe can well show, and a painful illustration of how the art 
 had fallen in Italy at the time of its erection.
 
 168 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 IX. — Conclusion. 
 
 The long cessation of intellectual activity which has been the sad 
 fate of the country that first spread the light of Art and Literature over 
 the continent of Europe, has prevented the Italians from reacMng that 
 second stage of the Renaissance which may be conveniently distin- 
 o-uished as the Revival. With the rarest possible exceptions, they have 
 never added porticoes, borrowed literally from ancient temples, to their 
 houses or public buildings. Whate^'er the faults of their style may have 
 been, they never committed the absurdity of cutting a slice off one old 
 building and planting it in front of a new one, wholly iiTespective of 
 either its use or appropriateness. Though they used the Orders every- 
 Avhere, they Avere the Italian, not the Latin Orders ; and, though even 
 these seldom exactly expressed the construction, they were always inter- 
 woven with it, and pretended, at least, to represent it. They were, 
 consequently, in Italy, far less offensive than the gTeat unmeaning 
 porticoes with which- we in England seek to adorn our churches, our 
 palaces, and our civil buildings. Neither have the Italians ever 
 attempted such a Revival as the Madeleine or the Walhalla, and, 
 generally speaking, the revival of Greek Art, which at one time was so 
 fashionable with us and the Germans, is utterly unknown to them. 
 Whether freed Italy is to pass through this stage of Art, yet remains to 
 be seen. Let us hope she will benefit by the experience of the other 
 countries of Europe, and that she may also escape the Gothic mania, 
 which is pro\iug so fatal to real progress in Art. This, indeed, she may 
 probably do, as she has no ]\Iedifeval style of her own of which she has 
 any great reason to be proud ; unless, indeed, it should happen, by one 
 of those caprices Avhich are only too common in Art when once it 
 swerves from the true path, into mere copying, that the Italians should 
 take it into their heads to borrow a French or English style, in return 
 for the strange specimens of bad Mediaeval Art we are now importing so 
 freely from Italy. 
 
 If the Italians remain true to themselves, no nation in Europe has 
 so fine a chance of attaining perfection in Architectural Art. Though 
 the " Orders " may not be applicable to all purposes of civil or eccle- 
 siastical buildings, they are at least the natiA'e products of the Italian 
 soil ; they are suited to the climate, and are hallowed by the associa- 
 tions of the land, but they are not the only elements of the art to 
 which they Ijelong. The misfortune of Italian Architecture was that 
 its i)rofessors in the sixteenth century studied the remains of the 
 temples — the domestic and civil buildings had nearly all disappeared 
 — till they became i)edants in their art, and enthusiastic for the doc- 
 trines of Vitruvius, whose want of knowledge and of true feeling for 
 his art has rendered his influence so disastrous wherever it has been
 
 Chap. 11. ITALY: RECENT ARCHITECTURE. 169 
 
 felt. The consequence was, that they not only prescribed the use of 
 columns for all places and purposes, but fixed their proportions and 
 the exact form of their details l)y canons which no one has since dared 
 to dispute. All real invention was thus put a stop to, and originality 
 could only be attained in the design of wiudow-frames or panellings, and 
 minor ornaments, which were turned over to the tender mercies of men 
 who, freed from the wholesome clieck of constructive necessity, sought 
 to produce eifects by the most uncontrolled wildness of decorative 
 absurdity. 
 
 Italy has only to go back to the ii^spirations which characterise the 
 end of the fifteenth and the davm of the sixteenth century, to base upon 
 them a style which will be as beautiful as it would be appropriate to her 
 wants and her climate. If she will only attempt to revive the traditions 
 of the great age which is hallowed by the memories of Leonardo da Yinci 
 and Raphael, of Bramante, Sangallo, and even of Michael Angelo, she 
 cannot go wrong. Tliese men erred occasionally from inexperience, and 
 because the system under wdiich the art was conducted in their days was 
 such as to render success impossible ; but their aspirations were right, 
 and there was an impress of nobleness on their works which has not 
 since been surpassed. 
 
 Since their time the history of Italian Art may be summed up in a 
 few words. During the fifteenth century it was original, appropriate, 
 and grand ; during the sixteenth it became correct and elegant, though 
 too often also tinctured with pedantry ; and in the seventeenth it broke 
 out into caprice and affectation, till it became as bizarre as it was 
 tasteless. During the eighteenth it sank down to a uniform level of 
 timid mediocrity, as devoid of life as it is of ait. In the present century 
 it has been, if anything, French. But now that the country is again a 
 nation, and has a future before it, it remains to be seen what her Art 
 will become. If the Italians are capable of freedom, and of national 
 greatness, their Architecture cannot fail to be a reflex of whatever is 
 great or good in their character or institutions. 
 
 [The Modeen Italian Style. — The above argument is happily 
 conceived and happily exjDressed, and is deserving of the student's 
 particular and contemplative attention. As a matter of good sense 
 alone, it must sooner or later become clear to the mind of anyone that 
 the Cinque-centists, on their own Italian ground teeming with relics of 
 the past, and in the exhilarating intellectual air of their great philoso- 
 phical revolution, enjoyed a truly grand architectural opportunity. That 
 they committed mistakes is matter of course ; but that they achieved 
 great successes no one who reads this book can fail to see, and to see 
 with delight. Indeed, a priori philosophy niay very fairly affirm that to 
 sacrifice the claims of the Italian Renaissance in Art to be worthily 
 regarded as a genuine and admiral)le Modern European Style is to under- 
 mine the whole reputation of that Modern European intellect whose
 
 170 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 brilliancy in liistoiy no one but a frivolous pessimist could even pretend 
 to dispute, and whose astonishing vigour seems to be still, in these 
 apparently latter days, only in its robust youth. It was from Italy, as 
 the centre and focus, that the light of modern civiUsation thus spread in 
 all directions — the civilisation of culture in place of superstition, of 
 commerce in place of conquest, of freedom in place of oppression. That 
 Italy has not kept pace with some other nations in the development of 
 all that she initiated is not to be wondered at ; but in her Arts, if no 
 more, let it always be remembered, it is to Italy that expectant youth 
 from every other land in the world still takes its way, to acquire the 
 happiest inspiration under the brightest sky. — Ed,] 
 
 [National Taste : Italian, Feench, En(ilish, American. — It 
 may l)e worth while to suggest, with reference to the closing lines of the 
 author's argument al)ove, this historical principle of national artistic 
 evolution. The particular period in its history when any nation will 
 happen to assume, if ever, a leading attitude, must depend upon the 
 nature of those particular circumstances of the community which 
 constitute the cause producing a national form of art as the effect. 
 Xow the condition of Europe, intellectually, socially, and commercially, 
 in the fifteenth century was such that on Italian ground alone could the 
 genius of Art arise and shine with a new light. Two consequences 
 followed : — Italy took the lead in the movement of reform ; and as the 
 basis for this movement, Italy accepted the remains of her own antiquity. 
 The degree of artistic merit which was to be manifested in the new 
 Italian mode would depend upon the peculiar characteristics of the 
 national mind, and also, of coui-se, upon the amount of material 
 encouragement capable of being suppUed by the public or private wealth 
 of the people. It was out of all these co-operating conditions that the 
 Art of the period came, exactly as we see it. But when, in process of 
 time, this function of Italy — as the founder of Modern Europe — was 
 fulfilled, was it not fulfilled once for all ? Apparently yes. In a word, 
 Italy in due course lost the leading place, and has ever since followed 
 France. 
 
 The rise of Modern Frencli Art may be distinctly ti-aced to the 
 energetic receptivity with which Latin France so soon embraced the new 
 Latin mode. The s})ocial aptitude of this keen and vivacious nation 
 for the performance of imaginative work may be said to be undisputed 
 throughout the world. As soon, therefore, as France became sufficiently 
 instructed— by Italy— she took the. lead in all the Ai-ts ; and she has 
 kept it ever since. How nuich longer it is to be retained depends, first, 
 upon the inevitable tendency of all acknowledged dominations towards 
 exhaustion of power ; and, secondly, upon the probal)ility of some other 
 competing nation being brought by the changing circumstances of the 
 world into a new leadership on new ground. At ])reseut the chief 
 danger to Art generally amongst the French seems to be tlie jtrogress of
 
 CuAP. II. ITALY : RECENT ARCHITECTURE. 171 
 
 eflFeminacy ; the facile fluency of it, and its exquisite touch, cannot be 
 denied ; but the time for reaction, if only by decay, appears perhaps to 
 be coming;, if it has not already come. 
 
 The rival merits of Germany do not appear to be yet prominently in 
 question ; perhaps it may be said that the very best German architecture 
 of the present day has derived its inspiration directly from the French ; 
 but the question seems to be a perfectly fair one, is England to Ixi the 
 next to come to the front in Art .? This is not to be promptly answered 
 in the affirmative ; but let no one be too hasty in delivering a negative 
 opinion. If it be right to say that the dainty French-Latins are 
 drifting into too effeminate art, are there any signs that the muscular 
 and vigorous English-Teutons, so clearly in the ascendant in commerce 
 and politics, are in the course of a little time, by the same road, to 
 attain an ascendancy in Art by some new and more masculine develop- 
 ment .'' There are many who think such evidences are distinctly 
 appearing. Thoughtful Germans and Italians, and even Frenchmen 
 themselves, are already pleased to express a most significant satisfaction 
 with the art-works of the English ; and in architecture especially, in 
 spite of our many disadvantages, such approval is by no means 
 grudgingly accorded. 
 
 " Westward the tide of Empire holds its way : " what shall we say of 
 America ? Practically the case stands thus : the leadiiig men in the 
 United States are Englishmen on the other side of a somewhat wide 
 ferry ; indeed, New York seems to be much more in touch with London 
 than Dublin is, or even Edinburgh. This being so, let us observe how 
 distinctly the English peculiarities are being emphasised and intensified 
 in the typical Transatlantic character, so that already the doctrine is 
 recognised by leading statesmen and men of affairs that the future of 
 England is best to be foretold by studying the advance of America. 
 May we say that the Gothic vigour of the Teuton, parting company with 
 the enfeebled refinements of the Latin, and collecting all its energies at 
 last on this Westward island of ours, has simply been forced to bridge 
 the Atlantic for elbow-room, and, amidst the expanding potentialities of 
 a truly new world, where the trammels of tradition are entirely shaken 
 off, is of necessity exhibiting expanded powers ? We do not require to 
 look far into the future to see that the next century must work 
 surprising changes in the culture and wealth of the Anglo-American 
 race ; and to say that the effect upon the Arts — which always follow 
 culture and wealth — must to a certainty correspond, is but a truism. 
 Moreover, no one who looks at the rapid progress which Art has been 
 actually making in America since the war can fail to see that the 
 foundations of an American artistic individuality are Ixiing already laid, 
 and the names of its pioneers already recorded. For the present the art- 
 students from the great Western Continent come for their inspiration to 
 England and France : and no doubt they must for some cousideral>le
 
 172 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 time continue to do so ; but, just as England has ceased long ago to 
 rely, as it once did, upon the Continent, so may America in due time 
 cease to rely, as it does now, upon Europe. Let us remember, for 
 instance, how the accident (in a certain sense) of the High Church 
 movement brought out in the Gothic Revival a wealth of native 
 English artistic power which not only was unexpected in other countries, 
 but is still astonishing to true critics amongst ourselves. What is to be 
 the accident in America, and when it is to happen, it is not necessary to 
 speculate upon ; if history is to be as history has been, the hour will 
 come, and the men. One thing, howe^'er, we may at any rate venture to 
 predict :■ — the new mode of America will not be an effeminate 
 manifestation, but a masculine one. Whether it will attain to the 
 refinement of France and Italy is probably to be doubted ; but that it 
 will emulate the muscular virility of England seems already sure. — Eu.] 
 
 X.^ — Recent Architecture in 1tm.y. 
 
 [When the political union of the Italian States was achieved under 
 King Victor Emanuel, and the nation started on a new career, the 
 influence of such a change could not but be felt in the national archi- 
 tecture. But, owing to the particular circumstances in which the 
 country had so long been placed, the effect of such influence would be 
 somewhat slowly developed. Italy was already the land of Academical 
 Art jjar excellence; the population traded upon it. The reign of artistic 
 tradition in the public mind had not only been long established and 
 hrmly settled, but there was no immediate impulse at work to change its 
 general policy. Even such a revolutionary measure as the overthrow of 
 the absurd temporal power of the Medieval Papacy, for example, did not 
 carry with it in any material form such a result as the abandonment of 
 a Mediaeval system of Ijuilding, for no such system had been in vogue. 
 The mass of the educated population, no doubt, very soon began to 
 incline more and more towards the social and commercial conditions of 
 England and France, and indeed America ; the railway and the steam- 
 ship, cliCap postage and electric telegraphy, would answer for that : but, 
 in resi)ect of the artistic classes of the people, those nations had more to 
 learn from Italy tlian to teach her. However, it must certainly ha\e 
 come about in due time, and in a short time, that building enter] »rise 
 would manifest itself in the Italian towns on the same lines as in 
 London and Paris ; and then there might make its appearance a modifi- 
 cation of traditional modes of design, to correspond with this novel 
 activity. And such has been the case, and little else than this has 
 happened. 
 
 Referring to the question of the effect produced throughout the world 
 by the great industrial movement which is idcntihed with International
 
 Chap. II. ITALY : RFX'ENT APtCHITKOTUrtE. 173 
 
 Exhibitions, it is mmifost that in Italy there would he less that reriniix'd 
 to be accomplished in that direction as regards Architectural Art than 
 in any other country — except France alone — for Italy had long been an 
 acknowledged sanctuary of the industrial arts in question. The master- 
 pieces of her own Renaissance artizans were amongst her most valued 
 possessions. The decayed palaces of her old families were often more 
 full of the ornamental than of the useful. But it is enough to say that 
 the rejuvenation of her national vitality has assisted nndoubtedly in the 
 awakening of her industrial enterprise, and that in course of time the 
 Italian craftsmen must inevitably take an important part in advancing 
 the importance of all the decorative arts. 
 
 Ecclesiastical building cannot be said to have made any particular 
 sign in Italy, and with all respect we may suggest that the pre-existing 
 ecclesiastical edifices were quite sufficient for the practical wants of the 
 nation for a long time to come. The most characteristic enterprise of 
 the kind has been the building in Rome of a demonstrative American 
 Protestant Church, from the design of Street of London, a creditable 
 work, of course, if judged by the standard of that architect's peculiar 
 proclivities, but perhaps of more questionable merit as a matter of 
 foreign self-assertion. The architects of the Eternal City, in a peculiar 
 phase of feeling, genuine enough in its way, delivered an urgent protest 
 against this rivalry of a foreign Imitation-Gothic architect, and this 
 building of an Imitation-Gothic church, where Gothic men and manners 
 were equally unwelcome and out of place. But the ol)jection was 
 necessarily o^'erruled by law when perhaps it might have been sustained 
 by good taste, and we may be content to take it as a sign of the times 
 that for once American puritanism and English sacerdotalism should 
 have sung the songs of Zion together by the waters of Babylon with so 
 much mutual satisfaction. 
 
 The l)ulk of the new building in the Italian cities, sometimes carried 
 out on a large scale, has been of the same commercial and occasionally 
 nuinicipal class as in other towns of Europe, and the style has been the 
 established Modern European. There has been no need for any general 
 reform, or indeed any local change. It cannot be said that an advance 
 in taste has been achieved : it is enough now if Italy follows France with 
 credit ; she does not lead ; even in the Arts her leadership is over long 
 ago. — Ed.] 
 
 XL — Illustrations of Recent Architect tee ix Italy. 
 
 [A very few examples will be sufficient to illustrate the characteristics 
 of recent Italian work upon Italian ground. It is no doubt less refined 
 than the corresponding work of the French, less thoughtful than that of 
 the Germans, and of course more academical than that of the English. 
 It also exhibits that leaning towards Rococo which has been characteristic
 
 174 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book I.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 ITALY : EECENT AKCHTTECTUEE. 
 
 175 
 
 of the Latin race in ancient as well as modern times, and esjx,'cially in 
 the more sunny lands. 
 
 The design of the Fine Ai't Galleries at Rome (No. 7 Get) is one which 
 is directed very successfully to the achievement of an effect of dignity, 
 simplicity, and repose. The exaggerated archway of entrance may 
 perhaps be put downi to a little excusable ambition in the case of an 
 Exhibition Building, but in other circumstances the principle of the 
 
 Building on the Corso, Rome. 
 
 triumphal arch thus applied is always liable to be charged with affec- 
 tation as a set-off to its grandeur. The fault of false columniation is 
 characteristic ; to make buttresses of columns has always been one of the 
 radical faults of the Renaissance. The sculptural accessories lend a 
 charm to the architecture which it is impossible to understand why the 
 English should so systematically ignore. . One; of the most urgent 
 requirements in practical architecture in England is the reduction of the 
 cost of such statuary ; it is a mere affectation on the part of sculptors to 
 maintain a scale of prices which is prohibitive ; inexpensive art need not
 
 176 
 
 IlISTOKY OF MODEEN ARCHITECTURE. Book I. 
 
 be inferior art, and cheap figure-carvino- in Italy, and indeed in France, 
 Belgium, and Germany, is certainly not so. On the whole it will 1)6 
 acknowledged that the composition of this facade is highly meritorious. 
 
 The building on the Corso at Rome (No. 7Gb) is a characteristic 
 specimen of the more ordinary Italian work of good class. The spurious 
 
 Victor Emanuel Gallery, Milan. 
 
 pediments over the openings are of course more showy than legitimate ; 
 and the same remark may be made with respect to several other features 
 in the composition ; but in a " Queen Anne " age we are not obliged to 
 throw stones of this kind ; and a good meretricious design is certainly 
 not to be despised in Italy. 
 
 The Victor Emanuel Gallerv of Milan (No. 7(;^0. although only
 
 Chap. II. ITALY : RECENT ARCHITECTUEE. 177 
 
 what we may call an " Arcade " of shops, is an excellent example of 
 modern work. Here again the effort to produce a showy efPect is 
 manifested without academical reserve ; but the fault is still only 
 characteristic of the age. Perhaps it may be observed, as an exercise in 
 composition, that the position of the lower statuary in this example is 
 particularly open to criticism, and that the introduction of Ionic capitals 
 into the buttresses (for so they really are) seems to be almost a gratuitous 
 inconsistency. — Ed.] 
 
 VOL. r.
 
 178 HISTOKY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book II. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 SPAIN. 
 
 Ferdinand and Isabella 1474 | Charles II 1665 
 
 Fall of Granada 1492 | Philip V 1700 
 
 Charles I. (V. of Geimany) 1516 I Ferdinand VI 1746 
 
 Philip II " 1556 I Charles III 1759 
 
 Philip III 1598 Charles IV 1788 
 
 Philip IV 1621 I Joseph Napolei^n 1808 
 
 INTKODUCTION. 
 
 The difficulties which are met at every turn, when attempting to acquire 
 correct information with regard to the Mediaeval antiquities of Spain, 
 are increased tenfold when we come to examine the history of the 
 Renaissance styles. The truth seems to be that up to a very recent 
 period all architectural travellers in Spain were so fascinated by the 
 elegance and picturesqueness of the Moorish remains of Granada and 
 Seville, or Cordova, that they could not be persuaded to look beyond ; 
 and book after book, frequently most superbly illustrated, was published, 
 not only in English and French, but even in Spanish, to illustrate these 
 fascinating productions. By degrees the subject has been worn thread- 
 bare ; and it has also been discovered that at Cairo, and throughout 
 Anatolia, Persia, and India, there are examples in the same style far 
 purer and far more worthy of study than the plaster glories of the 
 Spanish Moors. The result of this has been that recently some attention 
 has been paid — though only in a careless, sketchy way — to the Mediaeval 
 antiquities of the country ; and with the materials now available a 
 tolerably correct judgment may be formed, not only as to the extent, but 
 as to the principal characteristics of the Gothic buildings in the Pen- 
 insula ; it will however be many years before this mine is sufficiently 
 worked out to induce explorers to turn their attention to the very 
 unfashionable styles of the Renaissance. No traveller has yet visited 
 Spain who had sufficient knowledge of Architecture to enable him to 
 discriminate between what was good and what bad, or who had 
 sufficiently enlarged views on the subject to enable him to appreciate the 
 relative value of the different styles of Art now found in the country. 
 AVe have Ijooks in abundance on the glories of the Alhambra and of
 
 SPAIN : INTRODUCTION. 179 
 
 Moorish Art generally — we have latterly had some fine bursts of 
 enthusiasm about the Cid, and Gothic Art in Spain — but for the 
 Renaissance we are left to the prosy twaddle of Ponz or the dry t€xt of 
 Caen Bermudez, which, though eminently useful to those who have the 
 buildings before their eyes, are worthless, from their deficiency in 
 illustrations, for the purposes of stay-at-home explorers. Perhaps it may 
 be that there are good reasons for this indifference. It may be that the 
 Spaniards themselves are as inartistic as they are deficient in some more 
 important qualities. The Moors, who occupied the south, were, we 
 know, eminently artistic in all they did ; so were some of the northern 
 nations, who penetrated across the Pyrenees in the early centuries of the 
 Christian era, and occupied the Asturias and Old Castile ; but as the 
 one race was expelled and the other absorbed, the Iberian element again 
 came to the surface, and, as it predominated, Ai't seems to have died out 
 under the depressing influences of exclusiveness and bigotry. Were the 
 Iberians Semitic ? — or did they belong to some even harder or less 
 artistic race ? 
 
 Whatever the cause, the result is nearly certain that, in so far as 
 the Renaissance is concerned, it is only the first burst of it that is 
 really worthy of much attention. The first sjinptoms of the new style 
 displayed themselves during that period of exultation and of pride 
 that followed on the fall of Granada, and the union of all Spain under 
 the glorious tutelage of Ferdinand and Isabella. It continued to 
 flourish till nearly the death of Charles V. — 1492 to 1558 — a period 
 during which Spain, from her discovery of the New World, and the 
 position of her monarchs as the greatest sovereigns of Europe, com- 
 bined with the energy of the great men who then illustrated her 
 councils, stood forward practically as the leading nation of Europe. 
 The enthusiasm and exultation of the first half of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury are well expressed in the buildings of that age, but they perished 
 under the iron rale of Philip II. Durmg the reign of this monarch 
 nothing was thought of by him but the extension of his dominions, by 
 whatever means this might be attained. The priesthood were bent on 
 the acquisition of that power which the intolerance of the Spanish 
 character and the dread of innovation enabled them to accumulate, 
 and the laity were engrossed in the |)ursuit of those riches which the 
 discovery of the New World had revealed to them. Art was not 
 likely to flourish in a nation so occupied ; and the cold academical 
 productions of Herrera are only too true a reflection of the small 
 fraction of the national mind that could be spared for such purposes. 
 What Palladio and Vignola did for ItaUan Art, Herrera^ did for 
 Spanish, but without the gentleness and elegance which characterised 
 the works of these two architects. However grand or rich his works 
 
 ' Died 1597.
 
 180 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book IL 
 
 may be, there is no human interest in them ; and it is hardly to be 
 wondered at that tourists look with indifference on their cold formahty. 
 The Spaniards themselves soon tired of it, and in the seventeenth 
 century broke out into a wildness of style which out-Herods the 
 absurdities of Borromini or the most meretricious examples of the 
 Louis Quatorze style. The forms then used were such as are now 
 relegated to the carver and gilder, and no single instance of anything 
 like grandeur of conception can be quoted. 
 
 The Spaniards distinguish these three epochs by calling the first 
 the Plateresco, or silversmith's style — a term which perfectly expresses 
 the elegant exuberance of their first efforts, extending from the fall of 
 Granada nearly to the abdication of Charles Y. in 1555. The second, 
 which they call the Grreco-Romano — heavy and pedantic, like its name 
 — characterised the reign of Philip II. and his two successors, lasting 
 consequently down to the middle of the seventeenth centuiy. The 
 third, which the Spaniards distinguish by the unpronounceable cogno- 
 men of Churrigueresque, from the name of tlie architect who was the 
 chief author of the monstrosities of his age, flourished for nearly a 
 century, or say from about 1650 to 1750. During the last hundred 
 years they have done nothing worthy of being quoted ; and it still 
 remains to ])e seen whether the recent outbreak of the nation will lead 
 to anything sufficiently lasting to encourage a revival of Art. Their 
 recent resumption of a political position among the great nations of 
 Europe has been so unexpected, that a year or two ago it would have been 
 unphilosopliical to assume that they might not achieve an artistic 
 success as great as their political ; but recent events have dispelled 
 even that gleam, of hope. What the future may bring forth no human 
 being can foretell, but the previous history of the Iberian mind by no 
 means encourages sanguine views on the subject of Art, and they cer- 
 tainly have as yet shown no tendency towards development in that 
 direction. 
 
 [The " recent " events here alluded to are of course to be associated 
 with the original date of writing. — Ed.]
 
 Chap, I. SPAIN : ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. 181 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 All the buildings of Ferdinand and Isabella are, so far as we know, 
 in the late Gothic style. San Juan de los Reyes at Toledo is as Gothic 
 as Henry VII.'s Chapel at Westminster ; so is the Capella in which 
 they lie entombed at Granada, though the sarcophagi on which their 
 effigies repose are of an advanced Cinque-cento style ; but these were 
 made at Genoa, and Italy was then some fifty years in advance of 
 Spain. Even in the time of Charles V. we find a Gothic feeling 
 prevailing, in church-building at least, to an extent that is rather 
 startling. 
 
 The Cathedral at Salamanca, commenced in 1513, is purely Gothic 
 in style, though it betrays the Transition in our knowing the name of 
 the architect who designed it, Gil de Hontanon, and that the work was 
 continued by his son Rodrigo, after his death. We know, too, that 
 their work there was so much admired that they were selected as the 
 architects of the Cathedral of Segovia, one of the largest and finest in 
 all Spain ; which, though commenced in 1525, and continued by Gil till 
 his death, in 1577, is so Gothic in all the parts that he superintended, 
 that it scarcely can be called a Renaissance work in any respect. 
 
 Almost the first work in which Renaissance feeling distinctly 
 appears is the Cathedral at Granada, commenced in 1529, from designs 
 by Diego de Siloe, and yet even this can hardly be called more Classical 
 than the contemporary church of St. Eustache at Paris. Its plan is 
 at first sight purely Gothic, but, on closer examination, it contains 
 arrangements which are not only novelties but improvements upon 
 anything done before ; and such, that, if they had been fairly worked 
 out, would have produced a church better fitted for the dignified per- 
 formance of Roman Catholic rites than anything which we have yet 
 seen. The centre aisle, which is 40 feet wide, instead of terminating 
 in a mere apse of the same width, expands into a dome 70 feet in 
 diameter, beneath the centre of which, in a flood of light, stands the 
 high altar. The supports of this dome are so numerous and so dis- 
 tributed that it might as easily have been constructed 170 feet in dia- 
 meter and of any height. No modern dome is, in facit, so constructively 
 arranged ; and as it was not proposed that there should be any 
 thoroughfare under it, or that it should lead to anything beyond, the
 
 182 
 
 HISTOEY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book II. 
 
 number of points of support which are introduced, and their being 
 somewhat crowded, is a beauty rather than a defect. It opens by an 
 arch, said to be 190 feet ^ high, into the body of the church ; and were 
 it not that the centre aisle, as in all Spanish cathedrals, is blocked up 
 by the choir, the vista from the western entrance would he unrivalled. 
 The aisles on ejich side of the central one lead to two subordinate 
 
 Plan of the Catliedral at Granada. From Bermudez de Pedraza. Scale 100 feet to 1 inch. 
 a. Chapel of Ferdinand and Isabella, b. Sagrario. 
 
 altars, which close their vista most artistically and appropriately. 
 The outer aisle forms an ambulatory round the whole building, and 
 commimicates with all the chapels which surround it. The cathedral 
 
 ' Probably if the odd 90 were deducted ' artists who go into ecstasies and write 
 it would be nearer the truth, but no \ books about the Alhambra, not one has 
 correct details of the church have ever [ ever condescended to look at this most 
 been published. Among the hundreds of I interesting church.
 
 Chap. I. SPAIN : ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. 183 
 
 is 400 feet long by 230 wide, and therefore of the first class, so far as 
 size is concerned ; and it has besides, the splendid chapel in which the 
 Catholic Kings he buried, and a Sagrario, or parish church, 100 feet 
 square, on the right of the entrance. 
 
 Looking at its j)lan only, this is certainly one of the finest churches 
 in Eui-oi^e. It would be difficult to point out any other, in which 
 the central aisle leads up to the dome, so well proportioned to its 
 dimension's, and to the dignity of the high altar which stands under 
 it, or one where the side aisles have a purpose and a meaning so per- 
 fectly appropriate to the situation, and where the centre aisle has also 
 its function so perfectly marked out and so well understood. All this 
 being so, it is puzzling to know how it has been so neglected. Is it 
 that the neighbouring Alhambra eclipses its glories altogether ? — or is 
 it that its details are so bad or so baldly drawn as to mar the effect of 
 the very beautiful plan and arrangements of the whole ? This silence 
 can hardly be accounted for, but no description of it appears in any 
 modern book, and there is no drawing either of the exterior or interior, 
 by which we can really judge of its effect. Such drawings as we do 
 possess would lead us to suppose that the external form of the dome 
 was not pleasing. The fagade is unfinished, but any photographs that 
 can be procured give a pleasing impression of the elegance and purity 
 of its design. The Puerta del Perdon (marked A on the Plan), leading 
 into the circular part of the choir, is certainly as rich a specimen of 
 Renaissance Art as is to be found anywhere. Its taste is question- 
 able, as the Eoman Orders are used merely as ornaments, without 
 reference to constructive propriety ; but the whole is so rich, there is 
 such an exuberance of ornament, and such a play of fancy, that in any 
 other position it could not be passed over without remark. The interior 
 of the church must have beauties which an arcliitect would discover 
 in spite of the whitewash which covers it, and in spite, too, of the 
 gaudy colouring of its Moorish rival on the neighbouring hill, which has 
 so eclipsed it hitherto in the eyes of tourists ; but if they exist they have 
 not been remarked by any of those who have written about Granada up 
 to the present time. 
 
 The Cathedral of Jaen, like that of Granada, is said to have been 
 built on the site of the great mosque of the city. It was commenced 
 in 1525 by an architect cahed Yaldelvira, and is interesting from its 
 plan being arranged in a manner peculiar to Spanish cathedrals, but not 
 found in any earlier example, though frequently afterwards. It is a 
 parallelogram 300 ft. long by 175 in width, arranged in three aisles, 
 with a series of chapels, beyond the outer one. Such an arrangement 
 has neither the poetry nor grace of that of Granada, but it may be 
 better suited to the incipient Classical style which was then being 
 introduced. Internally, its architecture is of the same pattern as that of 
 Granada. The piers (Woodcut No. 78) consist of four half -columns of
 
 184 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book II. 
 
 the Corinthian Order, attached to the four sides of a square pier, and 
 over this is a block of the entablature, with its frieze, cornice, &c., 
 spreading over like a great mushroom, and inartistically cutting off the 
 pier-arches from their supports. If this entablature had been omitted, 
 and the arches of the great vaults sprung direct from the capitals of the 
 pillars, their effect, from their size and richness, would have been 
 extremely grand. In the centre there is a great dome, which relieves 
 their monotony, so that altogether it required very little to make the 
 whole pleasing and satisfactory ; but Avhite, or rather yellow, wash seems 
 to have obliterated what beauties it possessed, and to ha^'e increased the 
 repugnance of tourists to study its peculiarities. 
 
 As the Church of Malaga is one of those which artists occasionally 
 
 ske'ch, we are able to form some idea of 
 the effect of the exterior of these half- 
 Gothic, half-Classic buildings of this age. 
 That at Segovia is very similar, though 
 earher in style. Their principal merit is 
 that they are devoid of affectation ; there 
 are no pilasters or useless €olumns ; but 
 their outline wants variety, and the 
 windows are generally so small that they 
 have a gloomy flatness which is seldom 
 relieved by buttresses or pinnacles to the 
 extent it must have been in an earlier age. 
 Their fa5ades were always intended to be 
 relieved by steeples, generally in pairs ; 
 but, as in these two instances, seldom 
 finished ; seldom, indeed, is even one quite 
 completed, as it is, however, at Malaga 
 (Woodcut No. 79). The transeptal en- 
 trances are frequently more fortunate than 
 those of the principal fagade, partly because the building was commenced 
 generally from the choir-end, and partly because, being less ambitious, 
 they were more manageable. In this church, that shown in the 
 Woodcut, and called the Puerta de las Cadenas, though unfinished, is a 
 fair specimen of the style ; and the whole flank of the building is as 
 agreeably composed as any of its age. If it misses some of tlie 
 beauties of Gothic, it has at least none of the falsities of the 
 pseudo-Classic : and makes us regret that architects, instead of 
 following out what is here sketched, took to copying what was irrelevant 
 and useless. 
 
 The cathedral of Valladolid is an extension of that of Jaen in plan, 
 and thoroughly Spanish in all its arrangements ; l)ut having l>een 
 commenced in the reign of Philip II., from designs by Giovanni 
 d'Herrera, it is strictly Classical in all its details. Its dimensions are 
 
 Capital of (Jatlicdrdl at Jaen.
 
 Chap. I. 
 
 SPAIN : ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 185 
 
 very considerable, being 400 ft. long by 205 in width ;^ and it was to 
 hare had a tower 240 ft. high at each of its four angles. The interior 
 is severe and simple ; and, as far as can be judged from the materials 
 available, is one of the most effective, as it is one of the largest, 
 churches of its age ; simple v.i arrangement, grand in proportion, and 
 ornamented with taste, in spite of the meddling of Churriguerra at a 
 later age. 
 
 The second cathedral of Zaragoza, called Del Pilar, from possessing 
 
 79. Puerta de las Cadenas, C.ithedral of Malaga. From I'arcerisa, ' Recuerdos,' 2 &c. 
 
 the identical pillar on Avhich the Virgin descended from hea\'en, is even 
 larger than that last described, being 435 ft. long by 220 in Avidth, so 
 that it covers nearly 100,000 ft. It was, however, commenced at a bad 
 age (1677), by Francisco Herrera, continued at various intervals by 
 different architects, and even now can hardly be said to be complete. 
 
 1 Its superficial dimensions are conse- ! Madrid, is one of the best and most com- 
 quently very nearly identical with those plcte works of its class, but possesses 
 of our St. Paul's. niithor plans nor architectural details of 
 
 - Parcerisa's ' Recuei-dos y Bellezas de any sort. 
 Espaha,' now in course of publication at
 
 18G 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book II. 
 
 Although possessing elements of grandeur aliout it, the fatal effects of 
 bad taste are everywhere so apparent that its design is very unworthy of 
 its dimensions and of the position it holds as the largest and most 
 celebrated modern church in Sj^ain. Externally, the principal defect is 
 that it has no dome or central point of sufficient size to relieve the 
 squareness and flatness of the design. The central dome being really 
 the one great invention of the Renaissance architects, and the one point 
 
 Plan of the Cathedral at Valladolid. From Ponz, ' Viage.' Scale 100 feet to 1 inch. 
 
 which fairly challenges comparison with anytliing in Medieval Art. It 
 is the feature which gives such dignity externally to St. Peter's, 
 St. Paul's, and other churches of the same class ; it is consequently 
 sadly missed here, and its place would not have l)een supplied by the 
 four towers which were intended to have adorned its angles. One only 
 of these has been carried as high as the thii-d storey ; the rest are only 
 of the height of the roof, and do not suffice to relieve the flatness which 
 is inherent in the few openings and unbroken line of walls so common in
 
 Chap, I. 
 
 SPAIN: ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 187 
 
 Spanish buildings. In this respect the Gothic Seo — as the other 
 Cathedral of Zaragoza is called — is more fortunate. It has one complete 
 tower of Cinque-cento design (Woodcut No. 83), and which may be 
 considered as a tyj^ical specimen of the campaniles of Spain of this age. 
 Though not perfect, either in outline or in detail, it avoids many of the 
 defects which architects too frequently fall into in designing buildings 
 with great vertical dimen- 
 sions in a style where hori- 
 zontal features essentially 
 prevail. The rusticated 
 basement is soM and well 
 proportioned ; the next 
 storey also is without open- 
 ings and without an Order, 
 properly so called ; and the 
 two others gradually in- 
 crease in lightness as they 
 ascend. It is very doubtful 
 whether the termination Ave 
 now see is that originally 
 designed, but the effect is 
 not ungraceful, and avoids 
 the common defect of 
 placing a dome on so tall a 
 building, where it always 
 appears low and squat, or 
 of adding a spire whose 
 lines can hardly be made 
 to accord with the forms of 
 Classical Art. This tower 
 was commenced in the year 
 1G85, from the designs of 
 a Eoman architect, J. B. 
 Contini, who was also the 
 architect of the Hospital of 
 Montserat. Its height is 
 about 300 ft. English. 
 
 In the church of San Andrea at Madrid is a chapel to San Isidro, a 
 saint famous here, though scarcely known elsewhere. It was erected by 
 Philip IV. and Charles II. at the very end of the seventeenth century, 
 and is a very fair specimen of the style of ornamentation in the churches 
 of this epoch. Rich and gorgeous they certainly are, and generally also 
 freer from faults of exaggeration than their Italian congeners, but they 
 are not satisfactory as a whole, and though grand, even it may be said 
 palatial, they seldom produce the effect of solemnity so desirable in a 
 
 Plan of the Cathedral del Pilar at Zaragoza. From I'onz. 
 Scale 100 feel to 1 inch.
 
 188 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book II. 
 
 church, though their arrano-euients are never such as to admit of their 
 being taken for anything else. 
 
 The principal defect is that, in the first place, they are over-orna- 
 mented, every part being covered with mouldings or panellings, and 
 these generally accentuated with colour. But a worse defect than this is 
 that the ornaments generally are in very bad taste. The fatal facility 
 afforded by plaster allowing the artist to run wild in his decorations, and 
 having no restraint of construction, when seized with a hankering after 
 novelty, it requires a degree of restraint and self-control which few 
 architects can exercise, not to indulge in too exuberant decoration. 
 
 View .of the Cathedral del I'Uar at Ziragd/. i 
 
 It'iIii I'arrer'! 
 
 Perhaps the most redeeming featm'e of Spanish churches are the 
 steeples with which they are almost invariably adorned. In Italy there 
 is scarcely an instance in the Renaissance times where the campanile is 
 successfully wedded to the body of the building. In most instances they 
 are entirely detached, or, when in jiLxtaposition, their plainness and 
 great height are rather destructive than otherwise to the effect of the 
 building. In France there is scarcely a single example of a successful 
 Renaissance steeple. There are western towers at St. Sulpice and St. 
 Yincent de Paul, but even these can hardly be called remarkable, and 
 they are exceptional, and not such features as will bear examination by 
 themselves. The Spaniards, on the other hand, never seem to have 
 thought a design complete without two or four steeples being attached 
 to it, and these very often were of great beauty of design. The example 
 at Malaga, quoted above (Woodcut No. 79), and that of the Seo at
 
 Chap. I. SPAIN : ECCLESIASTICAL AECHITECTURE. 
 
 189 
 
 Zaragoza (Woodcut No. 88), are fair average specimens of the (;lass. 
 They are found attached to every church and every convent in Spain, 
 and not only give a pecnUar local character to the landscape, lint 
 produce, in fact, by far the most pleasing effects of Architectural Art in 
 that country. 
 
 Perhaps the most pleas- 
 ing group of steejiles to be 
 found in Spain is that which 
 adorns the Cathedral of 
 Santiago. The fagade of 
 the church, it is true, was 
 built as late as 1738, and 
 will not therefore bear ex- 
 amination ; but its general 
 outline is so picturesque, it 
 fits so pleasingly with the 
 old cloister, which is two 
 centuries earlier, and these, 
 with the steeples, make up a 
 group of buildings so pic- 
 turesque in outline and so 
 gorgeous in details, that he 
 must indeed be severe in 
 taste who can resist the fasci- 
 nation of such an assemblage 
 of buildings. There are 
 other specimens at Xeres, at 
 Carmona, and at other places 
 where their tall spires gi^'e 
 a character to the outline of 
 the towns as beautiful as 
 it is truly local and Spanish. 
 
 It is of course true that 
 during the seventeenth and 
 eighteenth centuries the 
 Spanish architects did build 
 steeples which were as fright- 
 ful as can well be conceived ; 
 but these were certainly the 
 exception, and then it was 
 only in the depth of their 
 
 architectural Dark Ages. As a general rule, the steeple is tlie feature of 
 their churches which they managed with the most success, and which 
 gives the greatest amount of character, not only to their chiu'clu'S but to 
 their towns, from whateN'er point of \ie\v we look at them. 
 
 ^f ihc Huo, Ziiragoza. From Parcc'ri!>:i
 
 190 niSTOKY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book II. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 THE ESCURIAL. 
 
 What Versailles is to France and to the history of French Renais- 
 sance Architectui'e, the Escurial is to Spain and to its architectural 
 history. They are both of them the greatest and most deliberate efforts 
 of the national will in this direction, and the best exponents of the 
 taste of the day in which they were erected. The Spanish example, 
 however, is, as nearly as may be, a centiuy older than its rival, having 
 been commenced in 15G3, it is said in consequence of a vow made by 
 Pliilip II. at the battle of St. Quentin, and, like Versailles, it had two 
 architects, the original designs having. been furnished by Gianbattista, 
 of Toledo, but the actual execution being the work of the celebrated 
 Herrera, who succeeded on the death of the original architect, which 
 took place in 1567. 
 
 It is not possible to establish any very exact parallel between the two 
 building's which were erected for such dissimilar purposes. Versailles 
 was designed as the residence of a gay and brilHant court, and a theatrical 
 chapel in the back yard was added only as the pendent to the more 
 important Theatre, which was an indispensable adjunct to such a palace. 
 The Escm'ial was the splendid abode of a great but gloomy despotism, 
 where the church was tlie principal and grandest feature of the design, 
 and the abodes of priests occupied the places which at Versailles were 
 appropriated to courtiers. 
 
 Architecturally, too, it must be observed that the design of Versailles 
 is wholly external ; all its bravery is on its face, and looks outwards ; 
 while whatever there is of grandem" or elegance in the Spanish example 
 must be looked for in the courtyards, or in the church wliich forms the 
 centre of the whole composition. Externally the building is little better 
 than a great granite barrack, and, though the facade does make some 
 pretension to architectural design, it is of the most commonplace character, 
 excusable only on the plea that it is a screen — a shell, in fact — to contain 
 a noble kernel inside. 
 
 Every modern author, in describing this building, begins by asserting 
 that the motivo of the design was to represent the gridiron on which 
 St. La\\Tence suffered martyrdom. Though the conceit is cle^-er, it hardly 
 seems tenable, inasmuch as any one who looks at the pictures of the 
 martyrdom of the saint which are contemporary with the building of the
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 SPAIN: THE ESCURIAL. 
 
 191 
 
 palace, will see that their conception of the instrument of torture used 
 for the occasion was an iron bedstead, very appropriate for tlie pur]iose, 
 but as unlike our notion of a gridiron as it is unlike the plan of the 
 Escurial. The whole story seems a mistaken invention of a later date. 
 
 Be this as it may, the general conception of the building is singularly 
 grand and appropriate. The great facade, with its three well-proportioned 
 entrances, and its two flanking towers, is just sufficiently broken for 
 effect, and is well-proportioned both as to height and length ; for though 
 
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 84. Plan of the Kscurial. From Xinienes, ' Monasterio del Kscoiial,' fol. ITG-t.' 
 
 only one half the length of the garden fagade at Versailles, it is not only 
 higher, but very much more broken in outline. 
 
 Nothing can be grander than the arrangement of the central entrance, 
 leading to a Avell -proportioned atrium in front of the great basilica, and 
 having on the right hand the Colegio, on the left the monastery, beyond 
 which is the palace, which culminates in the state apartments, further on 
 and immediately behind the high altar. Nor can anything be much 
 
 ' No plan ot tlie building has been yet sions, and as a general rule tin; views are 
 pnblished which can be depended on not much more trustwortliy. 
 either for correctness of detail or diraen- !
 
 192 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book It. 
 
 better than the four smaller courts of the college, leading up the grandest 
 court of the whole building, and on the other side the gradual increase 
 of magnificence to the great court of the palace, and thence to the state 
 apartments. But the crowning beauty of the whole arrangement is, that 
 through all and above all rises the church with its dome and two western 
 towers, giving dignity and point to the whole, and supplying that feature 
 the want of which is so painfully felt at Versailles and the Tuileries. In 
 the entire desi'2:n of the Escurial it cannot be said that there is one single 
 
 Bird's-eye View uf the Escurial. Frum a Drawing by D. Koborts, K.A 
 
 feature which is in the wi'ong place, or which could be omitted without 
 loss to the general effect, or one which is not perfectly proportioned not 
 only to its place, but also to the relative influence it was intended it 
 should have on the whole design. Yet with all this it must be confessed 
 that the Escurial is a failure in an architectural sense ; a great conception 
 has, in fact, been utterly destroyed by the way in which it has been 
 carried out. 
 
 The fa9ade, which extends to 080 ft. in length, is ruined by the 
 immber of small windows which crowd it e\erywhere. Being really 
 five storeys in height tliroughont, and seven, with an attic, in the
 
 CHAl'. II. 
 
 SPAIN: THE ESCURIAL. 
 
 193 
 
 centre, the first five are conipreheuded in the liei<i'ht of the Doric 
 Order of the central portico, thoug-h there are only three hetween the 
 pillars, but one is added in the basement on either side of the 
 central block, and another takes in the height of the entablature of 
 the Order ; the remaining two are comprised in an attic. All this is 
 bad enough, but it is made worse by the small size of these windows 
 and the want of appropriate dressings, which gives an air of meanness 
 to the whole which the size of the fa9ade rather adds to than dimi- 
 nishes. If all these small windows were necessary for the intenial 
 arrangements, as no doubt they were, the introduction of the Ordci- at 
 all was an unpardonal)le mistake, and two bold masses, hke t(jwcrs, 
 
 Section through the Church and Atrium of the Escurial. From Ximcnes. 
 
 flanking the entrance, would have given it all the importance required, 
 without incongruity. The angle towers, though well placed and well 
 proportioned, require some further ornament, especially in the uppei- 
 storeys, to give them dignity ; they are designed merely like private 
 dwelling-houses, three windows wide and nine storeys high. The 
 flanks of the building are nothing more than plain granite walls, 
 pierced with five storeys of unornamented square windows, with as 
 little design and as little ornament as one generally finds in a Man- 
 chester cotton-mill. Where this extends over 520 ft. the eft'ect is most 
 unpleasing, especially as by a little grouping of the windows, and a few- 
 slight projections, it might easily have been avoided. 
 
 The atrium in front of the church, which, from the plan, we wmdd 
 expect to be the richest and most effective feature in the design, is 
 VOL. I. ^
 
 194 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book II. 
 
 ruiiiod from the same cause. On the right and left hand there is 
 nothing but a plain factory-like building, five storeys in height, mth 
 the further singular disadvantage that, as the ground slopes upwards 
 towards the entrance of the church, the string courses and cornice 
 follow the incline ; but the window-heads are horizontal, and each 
 pair rises a little over the next, so as to follow the rake of the string. 
 In no modem building is there so clumsy and so disagreeable a make- 
 shift as this. The idea of the architect e\ddently was, that by the 
 plainness of the flanks he could enhance the richness of the porch of 
 the church — a clumsy theatrical trick, wliich was sure to fail. It is as 
 if a lady were to put a blanket over her shoulders instead of a shawl 
 in order to enhance the richness of ner dress. If the sides of this 
 court had been arcaded, like the great cloister, and had there been an 
 appropriate entrance on either hand to the College and to the Palace, 
 it would have been a restoration of the old and beautiful feature of an 
 atrium which modern churches lack most sadly. As it is, the architect 
 has actually been at the pains to provide an underground communi- 
 cation between the two sides of the building, in order not to break the 
 uniform ugliness of the elevation. 
 
 The seven small courts, each about 60 ft. square, are not remark- 
 able as architectural designs. They have each three tiere of arcades, 
 one over the other, veiy plain and very unobjectionable. The Palace 
 Court has on three sides an arcade, with a Doric Order in very good 
 proportion, above wliich is a gallery ^^ith square-headed windows in 
 panels. The most magnificent feature in the whole, however, is the 
 Court of the College, about 140 ft. square, with an arcaded cloister, in 
 two storeys, running round its four sides. There is a garden in the 
 centre, with a fountain ; and the whole is so well proportioned, and of 
 such dimensions, that there is scarcely any cortile in an Italian palace 
 to compare with tliis. Its one defect, and it applies to all the courts 
 here, is that they are approached only through small doorways ; and 
 these not in the centre of the sides, but either in the angles of the 
 courts or unsymmetrically on some part of the sides ; consequently 
 the courts do not produce any grand united effect, which they might 
 easily have been made to do. Each is independent of the other, 
 and no vista or general conception of the whole can be anywhere 
 obtained. 
 
 The great feature of the group, howe\-er, is the Church ; and 
 whether we consider it with reference to its dimensions or to the 
 grandeur of its design, it deserves to rank as one of the great Renais- 
 sance churches of Europe. 
 
 Its dimensions, as far as they can be made out from such plans as 
 are available, are 340 ft. east and west, by 200 north and south, and 
 it covers about 70,000 square feet. The dome is QO ft. in diameter 
 internally, or less than that of the Pantheon at Paris, but is single.
 
 Chap. II. SPAIN : THE ESCURIAL. 195 
 
 and of much simpler construction. Externally, the facade is not veiy 
 remarkable, but there is nothing; to offend good taste. It expresses 
 perfectly the internal aiTangements, and with its two flanking towers, is 
 quite as imposing as the dimensions of the atrium require or would 
 admit of. 
 
 Internally, there is in front a gallery extending across the church, 
 similar to that of St. Peter's at Rome, and which may ha^-e suggested 
 such an arrangement to Maderao. Passing this, you come to a featm-e 
 wholly Spanish, and which probably no other church possesses, though 
 one that, it is much to be regretted, was not often repeated. In order 
 to understand this, it must be recollected that it is an essential feature 
 in Spanish ecclesiological arrangements that the choir should occupy 
 the centre of the nave, facing the altar, and in most cases blocking it 
 up and destroying the vista and general proportions of the building. 
 In the Church of the Escurial, and there only, has this arrangement 
 been preserved without detriment to the architecture, inasmuch as 
 you enter under-the " Coro," through a low apartment divided by piers 
 into three aisles, and which is practically 100 ft. long by the whole 
 width of the church. Being imperfectly lighted, almost gloomy in fact, 
 the dimensions and splendour of the church itself are immensely 
 enhanced by this cavernous entrance. Beyond this the church is square 
 in plan, and divided, by the four great piers of the dome and the arches 
 they sustain, into a Greek cross in construction. The proportions of the 
 church are good, and the details of the Doric Order, with which it is 
 ornamented, are simple and unobtrusive, but on a scale designed for 
 external architecture, and with details so large and bold as to be wholly 
 unsuited for internal purposes, and which contrast most unpleasingly 
 with the richness of the high altar, and the frescoes and decorations of 
 the roof they support. This is indeed the great defect of the whole 
 building, as carried out. The roof of the " Coro " was richly painted by 
 Luca Giordano. The Ritablo of the high altar is rich and elaborate in 
 decoration, as is the Capilla Mayor in almost all Spanish cathedrals. 
 The pavement is of the richest marbles, and all this contrasts 
 unpleasingly with the plain simple architecture of the supports of the 
 dome. Either these ought to have been taken as the keynote of the 
 composition, or they ought to have been decorated in harmony with 
 the rest. 
 
 So much has been wTitten, and from such different points of view, 
 with regard to this "eighth wonder of the world," that it is difficult to 
 form an impartial judgment regarding it. In dimensions it is about 
 half the size of Versailles, less than the Caserta at Naples, and not so 
 large as some of the Austrian convents ; but it is quite large enough for 
 any palatial effect, and is, on the whole, as purpose-like and as well- 
 proportioned a design as is to be found in any palace in modem times. 
 Its defects are those inherent in the style, consisting in the employment 
 
 2
 
 196 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book II. 
 
 of an "Order" where it was not wanted either for constructive or 
 utiUtarian purposes, and where it suggested neither ; but what is worse 
 than this is that it displays everywhere that absence of thought which 
 must prevail where one man draws everything on a board before a stone 
 is laid, and, in this instance, intensified by its being built in granite, 
 which prevented a more lavish employment of ornament, or greater 
 freedom in designing the details, which make the monotony of parts 
 more painfully apparent in this than in almost any other design of 
 modern times. 
 
 The number of windows with which it is pierced externally would 
 not have been a defect if they had been grouped, or had the wall been 
 surmounted by a cornicione, or any of the ordinary devices used to give 
 it character ; but its prosaic, factory-like forms are all the more offensive 
 because of the magnificence of the church, and other internal features 
 which are seen from the outside. Internally, though the conception is 
 everywhere good, it is so marred by defects in execution, that, notwith- 
 standing the beauty of some parts, the whole must be considered as a 
 failure ; but it is one of the grandest, as it is certainly the gloomiest, 
 palaces of modern times.
 
 Chap. III. SPAIN : SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 197 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 It is a relief to turn back from the granite coldness of the monkish 
 Escurial to the secular or semi-secular buildings of the early part of the 
 sixteenth century, and to revel awhile in the lawless exuberance with 
 which the Spaniards expressed their joy at the expulsion of the Moors 
 and the discovery of the New World. 
 
 One of the earliest, as well as one of the most important, under- 
 takings of the first half of the sixteenth century was the building, or 
 rather rebuilding, of the University of Alcala, by the celebrated Cardinal 
 Cisneros or Ximenes. He so enlarged the basis of the school which 
 formerly existed there, that shortly afterwards it became the second 
 University of Spain, and almost a rival to Salamanca. The building was 
 commenced apparently about the year 1510, under the superintendence 
 of Pedro Gumiel, and continued to about the year 1550, by Rodrigo Gil 
 Hontanon, and other architects of the period. 
 
 The principal facade of the University is a fair specimen, though not 
 the best, of the style of the day. Its ornament is rich and exuberant, 
 and, if not in the best taste, like many other Spanish facades, it is solid 
 towards the base, and has an open arcaded storey at the top, which is 
 certainly one of the most pleasing architectural features that can be 
 apphed to Palatial Architecture, giving lightness combined with shadow 
 exactly where they are wanted for effect, and where they can be supplied 
 without any apparent interference with solidity. Except, indeed, in 
 buildings of the very monumental class, an arcade under the roof is 
 a more legitimate way of giving shadow than a deeply-projecting 
 cornice, and so thought the early Spanish architects, who consequently 
 employed tliis feature everywhere, and generally with the most pleasing 
 effect. 
 
 Internally, the arrangements of the building do not seem designed 
 for architectural effect so much as for convenience, though there are 
 three cloistered courts, one of which is of very consideraljle magnificentie, 
 and the two smaller ones are also well worthy of attention. As archi- 
 tectural specimens, they do not equal the Court of the Archiepiscopal 
 Palace, which belongs to the same age, and is extremely beautiful in its 
 details, as may be seen from the annexed elevation of part of the edifice. 
 The details of the bracket capitals of the upper storey are as pleasing
 
 198 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book II. 
 
 specimens as are to be found anywhere of a form wliich was felt to be 
 indispensable for the successful carrying out of the widely-spaced system 
 of supports which was then being introduced, and would be felt to be so 
 now had Ave not sunk so completely into the groove of believing that 
 what is Classical and estabhshed must be better than what is new or 
 original. Still, a bracket capital is a desideratum in Architecture, and 
 
 ':fnj 
 
 ? , 
 
 87. Court of the Archiepiscopal Palace at Alcala Ue los Hernares. From Verdier and Cattois.« 
 
 IS one the Spanish architects were in a fair way of supplying when the 
 Classical school of Herrera put a stop to progress in this or any other 
 direction. The Italians tried it at a very much earher age. At 
 Torcello and elsewhere we find them as early as the twelfth century, but 
 never after the Revival in the fifteenth. It does not seem to have 
 
 'Architecture civile et domeiticiuc,' fol. Taris, 1858.
 
 CUAP. III. 
 
 SPAIN: SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 199 
 
 occurred to the French architects that such a thing was wanted, in stone 
 Architecture at least, nor have any of the northern nations attempted it ; 
 hut the extreme elegance and convenience of this form is shown by the 
 universal practice of Eastern architects, and the beauty with which it 
 may be ornamented, and rendered ornamental, proves that its study will 
 amply reward any one who will turn his attention to it. As a basis, he 
 will hardly find better objects of study than the Spanish examples of the 
 early part of the sixteenth century. 
 
 Parauimfo, Alca,la. From Villa Amil, ■ Esimgiie Artistique ft Muiiuiiieutal. 
 
 There is one State Apartment in the University, called the Parauimfo, 
 which deserves attention not only for its intrinsic beauty, but from its 
 being so essentially Spanish in design. The roof is of richly carved 
 woodwork in panels, in a style borrowed from the ]\Ioors, and here 
 called " Artesonado," of which there is another — perhaps more beautiful 
 — specimen in the chapel, and under which is the " Urna " or cenotaph 
 of the great Cardinal. There are many^there were numberless — 
 examples of the same sort of work in various parts of Spain, all beautiful, 
 and all resembling this one more or less, though no two are exactly alike,
 
 200 IIISTOKY OF MODERN AllCHlTECTUKE. Book II. 
 
 Uiidci- this roof is ail elegant range of arches, in the beantifnl Plateresque 
 style of that day, and the massive draperies below are perhaps as happy a 
 mode of ornamenting the lower parts of the walls of such a room as can 
 
 well lie conceived. 
 
 In the monastery of Lupiana there is a cloistered court (Woodcut 
 
 No. 89) similar in de- 
 imimimiHMiimMuiiMiii^^ sio'ii to that at Alcala, 
 
 hut even grander, being 
 tour storeys in height, 
 each gallery being 
 ighter than the one 
 )elo\v it, and so ar- 
 laiiged as to give the 
 tippearance of sufficient 
 s tr e n g th, combined 
 with a lightness and 
 elegance peculiarly a]i- 
 propriate to Domestic 
 Architecture, especially 
 when employed inter- 
 nally, as it is here. On 
 the exterior of a Imild- 
 ing such galleries would 
 be too light for effect, 
 but round a small court 
 it is not so ; and in 
 this respect the Spanish 
 architects have been 
 far more ha]ipy tlian 
 their Italian brethren. 
 The latter were always 
 thinking of and re- 
 jiroducing the arcades 
 of the Amphitheatre ; 
 the Spaniards were 
 following a Moorish or 
 Medieval design, till 
 the Italian fashions 
 put a stop to their originality, and in so doing destroyed also their 
 elegance. 
 
 It must be admitted, however, that some check was wanted to the 
 exuberance of fancy in which the Spaniards seemed inclined to indulge 
 at this age. It is almost impossible not to be charmed with the richness 
 of the Patio in the so-called Palace of the Infanta, at Zaragoza, but, at 
 the same time, not to feel that, though suited for ivory-carving or 
 
 89. 
 
 View in Uie Cluister at Liipiana. From Villa Amil.
 
 SPAIN: SECULAR ARCHITECTUEE. 
 
 201 
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 calnnet work, Ai'chitecture so applied is unworthy of the name, e\en 
 in its Domestic form, though there is far less elevation and purity 
 demanded than in temples or buildings devoted to higher purposes. 
 
 90. Court ill the Palace of the Infanta at Zaragoza. From Villa Amil. 
 
 There are not, it must l)e confessed, many exam]iles of such wildness 
 as this, but many of the Lupiana style, lliere is, for instance, a stair- 
 case in the Hospital of Santa Cruz, in Toledo, which almost surpasses it.
 
 202 HISTOKY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book II. 
 
 But it imist also be admitted that the Spanish mind was ahnost as 
 frequently tempted to luxuriate in a half-Gothic, half -Classical style, as 
 in the Palace of the Dukes of Infantado, at Guadalajara, at Burgos, 
 Valladolid, and fifty other places that might be quoted, where we are 
 more astonished by the richness of the decoration than delighted at its 
 elegance ; but, even in its worst phase, this exuberant style is far 
 preferable to the cold, tame mediocrity of the succeeding age, and there 
 are always, at least, some parts which may be unreservedly admired. In 
 fact, wherever an edifice was erected or repaired during the first half of 
 the sixteenth century, we are almost certain to fall on details of the best 
 sort ; and for any but the very liighest purposes of Art, it would be 
 difficult to find a style more appropriate than this is. 
 
 The Imildings described in the last few paragraphs may all be 
 considered as provincial examples, where the Spanish architects followed 
 ___ _ out their own peculiar ideas of 
 
 ^Y w Tj" " ^ what Renaissance Architectui'e 
 
 (L J| ^__l ^ should be, uninfluenced by either 
 
 '^ Italian designs, or the knowledge 
 
 of what had been done elsewhere. 
 This was hardly the case with the 
 l)uildings erected for the Court, 
 of which a notable example is 
 found in the Palace adjoining 
 that of the Moorish Kings, in the 
 Alhambra, and which Charles V. 
 commenced for his own resi- 
 dence about the year 1527, from 
 designs by the Spanish architect 
 
 Plan of the Palace of Charles V. in the Alhambra. M.i/.hnpq flirmcrli tVin i^riiir-irvil 
 
 Scale luu feet to 1 inch. ividcnuca, luougn inc piincipai 
 
 part of what we now see appears 
 to have been erected ])y Berruguete. It unfortunately suffers, as any 
 quasi-Classical building must do, from its immediate proximity to the 
 Alhambra, and is also much abused, because it is asserted that some 
 portion of the Moorish Palace was pulled down to make room for it. 
 This, however, is more than doubtful ; for it is by no means certain that 
 the Alhambra was ever finished, or intended to be so, on a uniform plan ; 
 and the mode in which one angle of the new Palace was cut oflF, in 
 order not to interfere with the old buildings, is in itself sufficient to 
 refute the calumny. 
 
 As it now stands, the building is very nearly an exact square, 205 ft. 
 each way, with a circular court in the centre a little less than 100 ft. in 
 diameter. The basement is as nearly as may be half the height (28 ft.), 
 very boldly rusticated, and contains a mezzanine with circular windows. 
 A snnilar arrangement of windows prevails in the upper storey externally,
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 SPAIN: SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 203 
 
 but was meant only to light and ventilate the state apartments. The 
 Order of the basement is Doric — of the upper storey, Ionic — neither 
 used with much purity, but combined with so much ornament, and that 
 of so elegant a class, that the effect of the whole is extremely pleasing. 
 Except in the centre of each face, the Orders arc almost entirely 
 subordinated to the ornamentation of the constructive details of the 
 building, such as the window-dressings, panelling, and scul^Jtured 
 decoration ; and where this is the case their introduction is seldom 
 offensive. In the interior, the circular gallery is supported by a tall 
 Doric Order on the ground floor, on which stands an Ionic Order of 
 little more than half its height, a proportion which prevents any idea of 
 weakness in the supports. 
 
 The Palace never was finished, so that we cannot judge of the mode 
 in which it was proposed to ornament the principal rooms, nor do we 
 know what the form of the roof would have been externally ; but, as it 
 
 92. Part Elevation, part Section, of tiie Palace of Charles V. at Granada. Scale 50 feet to 1 inch. 
 
 stands, it may certainly be regarded as an elegant and pleasing specimen 
 of Eenaissance Architecture — not so grand or bold as the contemporary 
 specimens at Rome or Florence, nor so picturesque as those of France — 
 but dignified, elegant, and palatial, and free from any offence against 
 good taste to an extent not often found in buildings of this class and 
 age. Although much more Classical than those just described, it is still 
 sufficiently original to be purely Spanish. There is no building, either 
 ill Italy or France, of that age, which can be said to be in exactly the 
 same style, though it is evident, from what we find here, that Spain 
 with all the countries of Europe were then tending towards that dull 
 uniformity of design which is the painful characteristic of the succeeding 
 century. 
 
 The Alcazar of Toledo is nearly of the same age as the Palace of 
 Granada. The rebuilding of it, at least in its present form, seems to 
 have been commenced by order of Charles V. in the year 1548, though 
 not finished till it had felt the icy touch of Herrera under the reign of 
 Philip II. The courtyard in the centre, which consists of two tiers of 
 arches resting on pillars, is pleasing, but without the poetry of those at 
 Lupiana or Alcala, being sadly deficient in richness or variety. The
 
 204 
 
 HISTOltY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book II. 
 
 -i?T 
 
 93. View of the external Facade of the Alcazar at Toledo. 
 
 most pleasing feature is, the desig-n of the Avestern (?) fagadc externally, 
 exhihithig' the truly Spanish features of solidity below with increasing 
 richness and openness abore, which, as before remarked, is so effective, 
 and so little understood out of the Peninsula. It is now in ruins, 
 having suffered from fire on several occasions, and is one of those 
 buildings which artists do not draw, though it seems well worthy of 
 more attention than has hitherto been bestowed upon it. 
 
 Judging from what we know of the history of Spain from the death 
 of Philip II. down to the present day, we should hardly expect that his 
 weak successors would be capable of any great or successful effort of 
 architectm-al magnificence. It happened, however, that the Royal 
 Palace at Madrid was burnt to the ground on Christmas Eve in 1734, 
 when Philip V. determined to rebuild it on a new site, on a scale of 
 magnificence corresponchng to a Spaniard's idea of his own impor- 
 tance ; and Ivara, an Italian architect, was emjjloyed to realise this 
 conception. From what we know of his designs in Italy, it is perhaps 
 a matter of very little regret that, like most things Spanish, it never 
 was realised : but a much smaller one was erected by another Italian, 
 Sachetti, on the old site, and, considering that it was commenced in 
 1737, it is a very fair specimen of the age and style. It is a solid 
 s;|uare building, measuring iOi, or, according to some authorities, 
 •liU ft. each way, with a courtyard in the centre 24(i ft. square : and
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 SPAIN: SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 205 
 
 as its height, at least on the side facing the river, is nearly KHI ft. the 
 mass is very imposing. It loses much of this effect when it comes to 
 be examined, in conseqnence of its being cnt up by a multitude of small 
 windows. The rusticated basement has three storeys of windows ; 
 three more are included in the Order which stands upon it, and a 
 seventh is visible over the cornice. Either it must be that the rooms 
 on the principal floor have two storeys externally and one internally, 
 or there cannot be a single apartment of a height suited to a palace 
 in the whole building. The details, too, are generally coarse, and 
 frequently designed with that absence of constructive propriety which 
 
 View of the Palace at Madrid. From a sketch by D. Roberts, R.A. 
 
 characterises the Italian Architecture of the day, so that the present 
 palace has little beyond its mass and the general grandeur of its out- 
 line to recommend it for admiration. In so far as we can judge from 
 such drawings as exist, the old buildings which it superseded had a 
 good deal in them that was certainly more picturesque, and |)i'obal)ly 
 even more artistic. The principal fagade was in three storeys, and had 
 only three ranges of windows — one in a plain basement, the two upper 
 each with their own Order, and of palatial dimensions and height.^ 
 It looked like a palace in reality, not like an asylum or hos]iital trying 
 to look like a buildino- of a hio-her class. 
 
 * A very good set of views of this Palace were published by Vandor Aa. in his 
 ' Beschryving van Spanjon,' Leyden, 1707.
 
 206 HISTOKY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book II. 
 
 The Palace at Aranjuez is next in importance among those of 
 Spain after the Escurial and that of the metropolis. Although not 
 very remarkable either for its dimensions or the beauty of its details, 
 it is generally in very tolerable taste, and free from many defects found 
 in contemporary examples of the same class of buildings. The central 
 portion is sufficiently dignified without being overpowering, and the 
 wings are well proportioned to the central mass. The junction be- 
 tween these two parts is pleasingly accentuated by the domes in the 
 angles, and the whole sky-line sufficiently broken to prevent monotony. 
 Taking it altogether, there are few buildings in Spain, of the same age 
 (it was rebuilt in 1739 by Philip V.), which are so little objectionable 
 as this. 
 
 San Idelfonso is a Spanish Versailles, but on a much smaller scale, 
 with more tawdry details, and, though with more pretension than 
 Aranjuez, is very contemptible in general design. The Belvidere and 
 Buen Retire deserve no mention in a work pretending to describe only 
 objects of Architectural Art. 
 
 As Spain has no municipal institutions worth mentioning, she has 
 no municipal buildings of sufficient importance to be alluded to here. 
 At some of her principal ports there are Lonjas or Exchanges which 
 are buildings of some pretension. That at Seville was built by Hen-era, 
 and is probably the best example we have of his style, being regular 
 and chaste, without the extreme coldness and formality of his usual 
 manner. The Lonja at Barcelona is also much admired, but it will 
 easily be understood that its real merits are not great when it is known 
 that it was rebuilt in 1772 from the designs of a local architect, Juan 
 Soler. It is according to the usual recipe, a basement with the usual 
 complement of windows, one storey high, on which stands a range of 
 pilastere including two, with pediments, &c., at intervals. 
 
 At Madrid, where one would naturally expect sometliing better, 
 there does not seem to be any building worthy of notice as a specimen 
 of Architecture. Ponz and others quote the Carcel del Corte, or prison 
 for the nobles ; but it certainly would be considered a very contemptible 
 specimen of the art, either for dimensions or style, in any provincial 
 town in England ; and the Council house and other buildings which 
 ought to 1)6 of importance are as connnonplace as we can imagine any- 
 thing to be. The one exception to this seems to be the Museo— a 
 gallery of pictures, which, if not quite successful in design, has so 
 many good points about it as to be well worthy of study, and, with a 
 very little more taste in the aiTangement of the details, might have 
 been a really fine building. It was commenced in the reign of 
 Charles III., by an architect of the name of Juan de Villaneuva, 
 but was not completed till some time afterwards. The principal fayade 
 has the merit of having its entrance well marked by a portico 
 of six Doric columns, which are not surmounted by a jjcdiment, aiid
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 SPAIN: SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 207 
 
 on either side is a basement of good proportion and elegant design, 
 supporting an Ionic colonnade, behind which is an attic crowned by a 
 cornicione of appropriate dimensions and design. There is no con- 
 cealment and no false construction anywhere, and the Classical details 
 are used with truth and propriety throughout. Its principal defects 
 are that the order of the portico is too plain and simple for the rest of 
 the design. The unbroken entablature adds to this defect, and the 
 attic over it is badly managed. When a large Order is used with a 
 smaller, the first ought to be as ornate, and cut up into as many parts 
 as possible, so as not to overpower its modest neighbour, and the 
 
 The Museo at Madrid. From a Photograph. 
 
 smaller ought to be made, by simplicity of parts, to look as if it were 
 only a smaller part of the larger. The opposite course has been fol- 
 lowed here ; consequently a very good design fails to produce an effect 
 to which it very nearly attained. 
 
 In the provinces there are occasionally to be found examples of the 
 early Renaissance Art, as picturesque and as pleasing as any that 
 exist either in Italy or France, and with that peculiar exuberance of 
 detail that was so characteristic of the style in Spain. Few of these 
 have yet been drawn with anything like exactness — few indeed have 
 ever been described ; but if a more cosmopolite feeling should ever
 
 208 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book II. 
 
 prevail in Arcliifccctural Art, there are many examples here which may 
 be considered as well worthy of admiration. 
 
 As an instance, the Carcel del Corte at Baeza (Woodcnt No. 90) 
 may be quoted, not as remarkable for either size or purity of design, 
 but as possessing that indefinable grace arising from honesty of pur- 
 pose and correct application of ornament to the parts where it is 
 wanted. There is also a certain breadth of design, and a pleasing- 
 proportion between the solids and the \oids \\hich conduces so essen- 
 tially to architectural effect. 
 
 It may be asked, where do the Grandees of S])ain li\e ? Surely 
 
 Caret 1 lUl i_wit._. ut Ijaeza. From Parcerisa. 
 
 their palaces ought to be commensurate with their pride, and present 
 iirchitectural features worthy of attention. The question is easier 
 asked tlian answered. They certainly do not live in the country. 
 There seems to be nothing in Spain corresponding with the English 
 Park or French Chateau ; nor is there, so far as is known, one single 
 country-seat in the length or breadth of the land worthy of being 
 commemorated. When not hi Madrid, the nobles seem to live in the 
 provincial towns near to which their estates are situated, but not in 
 palaces even then ; nor do their residences in the capital seem worthy 
 of attention. Ford describes the fagade of that of the Duke of Medina 
 Celi as looking " like ten Baker Street houses put together," a descrip-
 
 Chap. III. SPAIN : SECULAE AECHITECTURE. 209 
 
 tion which, it is feared, is only too correct. If the others are in the 
 same style, they may be very characteristic of the present position of 
 the nobility of Spain, but must be beneath contempt as works of 
 Architectural Art. 
 
 On the whole, perhaps, we should not be far wrong in assuming 
 that the Spaniards are among the least artistic people in Europe. 
 Great things have been done in their country by foreigners, and they 
 themselves have done creditable things in periods of great excitement, 
 and under the pressure of foreign example ; but in themselves they 
 seem to have no innate love of Art, no real appreciation for its beauties, 
 and, when left to themselves, they care little for the expression of beauty 
 in any of the forms in which Art has learned to embody itself. In 
 Painting they have done some things that are worthy of praise ; in 
 Sculpture they have done very little ; and in Architectural Art they 
 certainly have not achieved success. Notwithstanding that they have 
 a climate inviting to architectural display in every form, — though 
 they have the best of materials in infinite abundance — though they 
 had wealth and learning, and were stimulated by the example of what 
 had been done in their own country, and was doing by other nations 
 — in spite of all this, they have fallen far short of what was effected 
 either in Italy or France, and now seem to be utterly incapable of 
 appreciating the excellences of Architectural Art, or of caring to 
 enjoy them. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 210 HISTOEY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book II. 
 
 OHAPTER IV. 
 
 PORTUGAL. 
 
 Aee there any bnildings of Renaissance Style in Portugal worthy of 
 note ? If there are, they seem to have escaped the attention of artists 
 and tourists. The old hooks represent a palace of some grandeur at 
 Lisbon, with a splendid plaza in front of it, where, on state occasions, 
 they used to butcher bulls and burn nonconforming Christians ; but 
 the earthquake seems to have swallowed it up, though, like Cromwell's 
 Ironsides, who are made to account for so many of the crimes and 
 shortcomings of churchwardens in our own country, this celebrated 
 catastrophe has to bear the blame of so much that we are led to 
 suspect that it was really hardly so destructive as it is said to have 
 been. 
 
 Be this as it may, the Convent at Mafra seems to be the only 
 really grand structure of Renaissance Style in the country. It was 
 Itnilt in consequence of a vow made during a dangerous fit of illness 
 by John V., from the designs of an architect named Ludovico, and 
 said to be a German. He commenced it in 1717, and it was practi- 
 cally completed in 1732. Its dimensions are such as to surpass those 
 of the Escurial, being 760 ft. east and west, and fi70 north and-south. 
 
 The church in this design stands in the centre of the principal 
 facade, instead of being thrown back, as in the Spanish example, and, 
 in consequence of being only of the same height, and not much 
 grander hi design than the domestic buildings which flank it on 
 either side, it certainly lacks the dignity which the other possesses. 
 In other respects it is, externally at least, very much superior to its 
 rival. The flanking towers are more graceful, the dome better 
 proportioned, its details are more elegant and appropriate, and it has 
 the advantage of a magnificent flight of steps leading to its portals, 
 so that, were it not that the wings overpower it, it ought, in eveiy 
 sense, to surpass the boasted creation of the Ingot Philip. The rest 
 of the building externally is also very much more pleasing than the 
 Escurial, the domestic parts being broken up in masses, which prevent 
 the cold monotony that destroys the effect of the Escurial, and, 
 l>eing generally only three— seldom four— storeys in height, it has a 
 palatial air, which is entirely wanting in the seven and eight-storeyed 
 palaces of 8]»ain.
 
 Chap. IV, 
 
 PORTUGAL. 
 
 211 
 
 It is much to be regretted that this building is not better known, 
 and has not been more carefully illustrated, for, though it has faults 
 of detail — pei'haps not a few — there is probably no palace erected in 
 the eighteenth century which is so free from them, and which has a 
 greater air of grandeur than this ; considering, too, that, like the 
 Escurial, it contains a monastery combined with a palace, the difficulties 
 it presented to an architect were such as it was by no means easy to 
 overcome. 
 
 If the Portuguese do not wish to be considered as the least artistic 
 
 I'alace at Mafra. Fmui a sketch by Charles Landseer, K.A. 
 
 people in Europe, they would do well to publish some illustrations or 
 statistics of the works of Art they possess. So far as is now known 
 to the world in general, they never produced a painter or sculptor 
 worth mentioning ; they ha\'e no architect whose name is known out 
 of his own country ; and, considering their history, their former wealth 
 and power, and their opportunities, they certainly have produced, in 
 proportion, fewer buildings wortliy of note tlian any othoi- nation of 
 
 Europe. 
 
 p 2
 
 212 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book II. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 RECENT ARCHITECTURE IN SPAIN AND PORTUGAL. 
 
 [The series of illustrations already given affords so complete a 
 presentment of the cliaracteristic Architecture of the Peninsula as it 
 still exists, that it appears to be unnecessary to offer any further 
 examples. Modern Spanish design has always been of the Italian type, 
 and continues to be so. The Latin susceptibility to the enjoyment of 
 rich effects, coupled with the kindred influence of the southern 
 temperament, shows itself in the same tendency towards Rococo, but 
 with augmented force. Academic reserve is prominently absent. It 
 may even be said, with perfect truth, that the Moresque spirit still has a 
 very prominent place in Spanish taste. The internal troubles of politics 
 in Spain have not failed to curb the aspirations of industry ; and 
 especially of Industrial Art, which can never flourish when to political 
 decadence is added internecine warfare. Moreover, Spain and Poi*tugal 
 have had their day in the past — they are both behind the age. But 
 they are by no means without hope for the future, and Architecture will 
 record the realization when it arrives. Meanwhile it is, perhaps, 
 enough to say that the ordinary modern European style of building 
 prevails without anythhig that is notable being accomplished. — Ed.]
 
 FlUNCE: INTKODUCTION. 213 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 FRANCE. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The history of the introduction of the Renaissance Ai'chitecture into 
 France differs in many essential particulars from that of its rise in 
 Italy, as well as from that of its adoption in Spain. 
 
 In Italy it was a spontaneous growth, arising from circumstances 
 which have been detailed in the foregoing pages. In France it was 
 an importation from the South, after the style had acquired com- 
 pleteness and consistency in the land of its birth. The principal 
 reason for its adoption in France was the revival of Classical Literature, 
 which had exercised so great an influence in its development in Italy. 
 But more than this was the secondary cause, that the Art and artists 
 of Italy had acquired a name and fame in the beginning of the sixteenth 
 century which rendered fashionable whatever they did, especially in 
 Painting and Sculpture. Had the Northern nations been content to 
 emulate them in these two Arts only, all would have been well : the 
 mistake was, their including Architecture in the same category. 
 In the jubilant, unreasoning frame of mind that accompanied the 
 great aw^akening of the sixteenth century, we should not be sur- 
 prised at this want of discrimination, however much we may regret 
 the result. 
 
 The campaigns of Charles VIII. and of Louis XII. had done a great 
 deal towards making the two nations acquainted with one another ; 
 but it was not till after the memorable expedition of Francis I. that 
 the French became thoroughly familiarised with Italy and her works 
 of Art, and conceived the desire of rivaUing her in her artistic career, 
 even if they could not succeed in annexing her politically to their own 
 kingdom. 
 
 Very little was done in this respect by either of the first-named 
 monarchs ; but Francis I. (1515-154G) was fairly bitten by the Italian 
 mania of the day. One of the first results of his \isit to Italy was 
 to bring back Leonardo da Vinci to France ; and he invited thither
 
 214 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 Beiivcimto Cellini, Primaticcio, and Serlio— men of note in their own 
 country, all of whom were employed by him in the works at Fontaine- 
 bleau, and elsewhere ; and, although a number of Frenchmen were 
 still employed on his undertakings, the influencing minds were the 
 Italians ; and the native artists laboiu-ed only to rival them in the 
 style they were introducing. The consequence was, that during the 
 reign of Francis the new style l^ecame thoroughly established, and 
 long before the accession of Henry IV., the Gothic had come to be 
 i-egarded as barbarous, and fit only for the Dark Ages. 
 
 Though thus inti-oduced from Italy, the French adoi)ted the new 
 style Avitli a veiy different feeling from that which had guided the 
 Italians in its elaboration. The Frencli had a perfect Gothic style of 
 their own, to which they had long been accustomed to look with admi- 
 ration, and wliich they had been gradually adapting to their more 
 civiUzed wants, long before they thought of introducing the Classical 
 style of Rome. Any one at all familiar with the Civil Architecture of 
 the fift'jenth century in France, knows how the Flamboyant style had 
 been modified to meet the wants of the age. The openings had been 
 made frequent and large, the windows square-headed, mullions had to 
 a great extent been dispensed with, and generally the Municipal and 
 Domestic Architecture was as elegant, and nearly as cheerful, as that 
 which superseded it. 
 
 It would indeed be a curious subject of speculation to try and guess 
 Avhat the style would have become had no Roman remains existed, and 
 had the French never crossed the Alps : probably not so very different 
 from what it afterwards became. The pointed arch certainly would 
 have disappeared ; so would buttresses and pinnacles ; wooden roofs 
 would, to a great extent, have superseded stone vaults in churches, 
 and the itnpro\'ement which was taking place in figure-painting would 
 ])r()b;il)ly have required the suppression of nuillions and tracery in the 
 windows. In Domestic Architecture, string courses would most cer- 
 tainly lune been more extensively used to mark the storeys ; balconies 
 would have b(ien introduced, for their convenience, and probably also 
 cornices, to mark the eaves. 
 
 All this might have resulted in veiy much what we find now ; 
 except — and the exception is most important — that a mania would 
 never have arisen for spreading a network of pilasters and three- 
 (juarter cohnnns over every part of a building, whether they were 
 wanted or not, and where they had not even the merit of suggesting a 
 reason for their employment. It is useless, however, speculating on 
 the past— it is sufficient to know that Gothic had become irapossil)le, 
 and that something very like the forms then adopted had l)ecome 
 inevitable. We cannot, however, but regret that their introduction 
 was accompanied by the trammels of a style foreign to their use, and 
 winch eventually so far got the mastery o\er the real artistic exigencies
 
 FRANCE : INTRODUCTION. 
 
 215 
 
 of the art as to render it subject to those vagaries which have had so 
 pernicious an effect on the Architectui'e of modern Europe. 
 
 Tlie Frencli Renaissance differed furtlier from the Italian in this — 
 that it grew dii'ectly out of the Gothic ; and, instead of trying to copy 
 Eoman temples, or to ri\'al their greatness, all the French architects 
 
 UM. Favude uf the Church uf St. Mkhat-l at Dijon. 1' roni Laburde, ' iMiimuiens de la France.' 
 
 aimed at, in the early stages of the art, was to adapt the details of the 
 Classical styles to their Gothic forms; and, throughout France, a 
 number of churches are to be found in which this is done with very 
 considerable effect. The church of St. Michael at Dijon is as fair an 
 average specimen of this class of church in France as that of San
 
 21G HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 Zaccai-ia (Woodcut No. 37) is of the Italian group ; the gi-eat difference 
 being, that in the French example the fonn is essentially Gothic, 
 though the details are Classic. In the Italian example there is nothing 
 that would be called Gothic on this side of the Alps. In the church 
 at Dijon every form is essentially Mediaeval ; and the Classic details 
 are applied without any constructive propriety, and, it must also be 
 admitted, generally without any ornamental effect. At least, so we 
 think now ; but it Ls easy to understand that, in the age in which 
 it was built, it may have been considered a perfect example of 
 Roman Art. 
 
 It frequently happens in Franco that the eye of the tourist is 
 charmed by the effect produced by the outline of these quasi-Classical 
 buildings — as, for instance, when contemplating the dome which till 
 recently crowded the intersection of the nave and transept of the 
 Cathedral at Bayeux, or the western towers of Matilda's Abl)ey at 
 Caen ; and, though the Gothic purist is offended at such innovations, 
 there is little doubt that they frequently were improvements, and 
 might always have l)een so had a little more taste been displayed in 
 the adaptation of the new forms. 
 
 Another point of difference between the French and Italian styles 
 was that the earliest Renaissance buildings in France were palaces 
 or chateaux, and nine out of ten of these situated in the country. 
 Francis I. was no church-builder ; but all the energies, all the resources 
 of the Art of his day, were devoted to Fontainebleau, and such palaces 
 as Chambord, Madrid, Chenonceaux, and others of the same character. 
 In these situations, where the building was required to group with 
 the undulations of the country and the irregular growth of trees, or 
 the adjuncts of outhouses, regularity would have been as inartistic as 
 it was uncalled for. On the other hand, a Roman or Florentine palace, 
 bounded on all sides by straight streets, could hardly be otherwise 
 than rectangular ; and any in-egularity would have been as impertinent 
 as it would have been inappropriate. In the country, high roofs and 
 a broken sky-line harmonized with the scenery, and gave elevation 
 and dignity to a Ijuilding that could be seen on all sides and at all 
 distances. A high roof cannot be seen from a street, and a broken 
 sky-Hne is lost when the spectator is close under a building. In fact, 
 a Farnese palace would have been as much out of place on the banks 
 of the Loire, as a Chambord would have been in the nan-ow streets of 
 Rome, or a Chenonceaux on a bridge over the Tiber. 
 
 Another proof of contrast between the Arts of the two countries is 
 the unity that marks the history of the art in France, as compared 
 with that of Italy. In the former country we have no strongly-marked 
 provincial peculiarities like those which distinguish the style of 
 Florence from that of Rome, and both from ^^•hat is found in Venice. 
 The art was introduced into France by her kings ; and it was from Paris
 
 FRANCE : INTRODUCTION. 217 
 
 — and from that city only — that all the designs proceeded which either 
 influenced or were executed in the provinces. There are no local styles 
 or local peculiarities which require remark. From the time of Francis I. 
 to the present day, Paris has been the literary and artistic, as well as 
 the political, capital of France ; and the thread of our narrative may 
 therefore be continuous and uninten'upted. 
 
 As the early stages of such a transition are those wdiich it is always 
 most difficult to understand, we are fortunate in possessing in the works 
 of Androuet du Cerceau, published in 157G-79, durhig the reign of 
 Henri III., a complete picture of the Architecture of his day, and as 
 complete an indication of what was then admired or aspired to. 
 
 At the time he wrote, sufficient feeling for the old style still remained 
 to induce him to illustrate Couci and Montargis, as two of the " plus 
 excellents bastiments de la France ; " but the Louvre and the Tuileries 
 w'ere the great projects and the most admired designs of that day. 
 Next to these come BloLs and Amboise, Fontainebleau, Chenonceaux, 
 Madrid and Gaillon (since destroyed), Yallery and Verneul, and the 
 unfinished palaces of Charleville and Ecoueu. 
 
 Another characteristic difference between the styles of France and of 
 Italy, as well as l)etween the old Gothic and the Renaissance, is, that 
 among some thirty or forty buildings no church is illustrated in the 
 works of Du Cerceau. In Italy the transition began \\ith churches ; 
 and St. Peter's gave a tone to the whole style, and fixed its characteristics. 
 In France, it is true, St. Eustache had been built, and St. Etienne du 
 Mont restored, and various patchings and rebuildings had gone on ; but 
 kings and men of taste did not trouble themselves with these matters. 
 The Crown gave the tone, and the Palace led the way, in Art. Hence, 
 perhaps, nmch of the fri\'olity, but hence, also, much of the grace, that 
 distinguished French Art as compared with Italian. In France we have 
 not the great conceptions which so often redeem the faults of detail of 
 the early Italian styles ; but, on the other hand, we have a style 
 generally of greater elegance, and which seldom fell into those exaggera- 
 tions of detail which so often disfigure the designs of even the best 
 Italian masters. 
 
 Although the Renaissance style w'as imported from Italy into Spain 
 about the same time, and nearly in the same manner, in which it was 
 introduced into France, the character of the two nations w^as so different 
 that the same seed soon produced very different results. The early 
 Plateresque style of Spain was based far more on the delicate and 
 exuberant style of ornamentation introduced by the Mooi'S, than on any- 
 thing brought from Italy, or that is found in France ; and was 
 cultivated because in that age there seems to have been an innnense 
 desire to display easily acquired wealth without the corresponding power 
 to realize grand conceptions, and wdiich consequently found \mt in
 
 218 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 extreme elaborutiou of detail rather than in grandeur of design. This 
 effervescence soon passed off, and the reaction was to the cold gloomy 
 Greco-Romano style of HeiTera and his contemporaries, at a time when 
 the French were indulging in all the wild caprices of the Henri Quatre 
 style. From this the French proceeded to the invention of the gay but 
 grand and original style of the age of Louis Quatorze. The Spaniards 
 stopped short in the career of invention, and became either copiers of 
 the Frencli or borrowers from Italy.
 
 CiiAi'. I. FRANCE : ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 219 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTU I{ E. 
 
 RENAISSANCE. 
 
 Although it cannot be said that chiirch-lmildiiig- was either the earliest 
 or the most satisfactory form which tlie development of the Renaissance 
 Art took in Franco, it will be con- 
 venient, as in other instances, to 
 take it first, having already enlarged 
 snfhciently on the principles which 
 guided the arcliitects of that day in 
 abandoning the old style for the 
 more fasliionable form of Classic 
 Art. 
 
 One of the earliest — and cer- 
 tainly one of the most complete and 
 best specimens of the Renaissance 
 Style — is the well-known church of 
 St. Eustache at Paris. The founda- 
 tions were laid in 1532, though 
 the church was not completed 
 till nearly a century afterwards. 
 Though thus commenced twenty- 
 six years after St. Peter's at Rome, 
 and carried on simultaneously, it is 
 cmious to observe how different 
 were the principles on which the 
 two were constructed — -St. Eustache 
 being in reality a Gothic five-aisled 
 church in all essentials both of 
 arrangement and construction, and 
 it is only in the details that an 
 experienced eye percei\'es the in- 
 fluence of Classical Art, and remarks the unhappy effect which results 
 from trying to adapt the forms of a particular style to purposes for 
 which they were not originally intended. 
 
 Plan of St. Eu>tache, Paris. From Loiiulr, 
 
 ' Statistique Monumental de Paris.' 
 
 Scale 100 ft. to 1 inch.
 
 220 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, it cannot be denied that St. Eustache is a 
 veiy beantiful and elegant church. If its windows were filled with 
 stained glass, for which they are, in fact, better adapted than the more 
 heavily mullioned openings of purely Gothic buildings, and if its walls 
 were relieved by painting, it would rival many buildings of the earlier 
 age as a work of Art, though it might fail in that solenmity which 
 should characterize a religious edifice. Its dimensions, too, are con- 
 siderable, being 328 ft. from east to west, and nearly 150 ft. in general 
 width, and 90 ft, in height to the ridge of the vault ; and throughout 
 it is impossible to point to a single detail which is not elegant — more so 
 than most of those found in Gothic buildings — or to anything offensively 
 inappropriate. Notwithstanding all this, the effect it produces is far 
 from pleasing. Everywhere the eye is offended 
 liy the attenuation — it might almost be called 
 the wire-drawing — of Classical details, and the 
 stilting that becomes necessary from the 
 employment of the flatter circular arch, instead 
 of the taller pointed one. The hollow lines of 
 the Corinthian capitals are also very ill-adapted 
 to receive the impost of an arch ; and when 
 the shaft is ])laced on a base taller than itself, 
 and drawn out, as is too often the case here, 
 the eye is everywhere shocked, the great 
 difference l)eing, that the Gothic shaft was in 
 almost all instances employed only to indicate 
 and suggest the construction, and might there- 
 fore be 100 diameters in height without appear- 
 ing weak or inajipropriate. In Gothic Art, 
 the real construction w^as in the pier or wall 
 behind it ; but the Eoman Orders were parts of 
 the construction itself, and are only appro- 
 priate where they are so — when used merely to 
 suggest it, they become ridiculous. The 
 fayade of this church was originally designed on the same principles as 
 that of St. Michael at Dijon (Woodcut No. 98), and was partially 
 executed in that style ; but being left unfinished, it was completed in 
 the reign of Louis XIV., in the more Classical form in which we now 
 find it. 
 
 The church of St. Etienne du Mont is another Parisian example of 
 this style. The rebuilding of this church was practically commenced 
 in 15;j7, and dragged on through a long period, owing perhaps to the 
 delay that must always take place when one part of a building has 
 to be removed before that which is to replace it can be commenced. 
 It is far from being so complete and satisfactory an example as 
 St. Eustache, though, like it, St. Etienne is a Gothic church disguised 
 
 Bay of St. Eustache. 
 Lenoir.
 
 Chap. I. FRANCE : ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. 221 
 
 in the trappings of Classical details. The most remarkable feature 
 about it is the Rood Screen, with the Staircases of the lightest open- 
 work which lead up to it on either hand. This is a poetical and 
 beautiful conception, but marred by the details being neither con- 
 structional nor elegant in themselves. The whole church would be 
 very much improved by the introduction of colour, which evidently 
 formed part of the original design, but nothing, it is feared, could 
 ever reconcile the conflict between the two styles, which pervades 
 the whole, and gives rise to such discrepancies as are everywhere 
 apparent. 
 
 There is a church in Dieppe very similar to St. Eustache, and gene- 
 rally, throughout France, it is common to find repairs in the style 
 of these two Parisian examples, in churches which, having been 
 commenced in the fifteenth century, were continued during the 
 sixteenth. All these quasi-Classical features were unmeaningly intro- 
 duced in this pseudo-Gothic style, which was practically the only one 
 employed in church-building in France during the course of that 
 century ; so that it is almost a relief to come to the downright intro- 
 duction of Classical forms, in the position and used for the purposes 
 for which they were, or rather were supposed to have been, designed. 
 If it was necessary that GotMc Architecture should be abandoned, it 
 certainly was not by this compromise that it could be worthily 
 replaced. Any perfectly honest constructive forms would have been 
 better than these Classical imitations ; but, as that was not to be, 
 it is with a feeling almost of satisfaction that we come even to , 
 the unmeaning tameness of the Louis Quatorze style of Ecclesiastical 
 Art. 
 
 Before it settled down to this, the French architects adopted for a 
 while almost literally the style introduced in Italy by Maderno,^ 
 Borromini,^ and others of that class, and which, as before remarked, 
 was disseminated all over Europe by the Jesuits. The church of 
 St. Paul and St. Louis at Paris (Woodcut No. 101) is one of the most 
 typical examples of this class in France. It was commenced in 1627, 
 and finished in 1641. The fa§ade is three storeys in height, and 
 covered with the usual mass of unmeaning ornament. The general 
 effect produced is rich and picturesque, but very unsatisfactory ; 
 pillars with their entablatures and the various other ornaments used 
 being merely pieced together so as to cover the whole surface of the 
 fa9ade, without the least reference either to the purposes for which 
 pillars were originally designed, or to the constructive necessities of the 
 liuilding wdiere they are now found. 
 
 The interiors of the chm-ches of this — which may be called the 
 Jesuit style of Art — were not more satisfactory than the exteriors. 
 
 Died 1629. '' Died 16G7.
 
 222 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 101. i'ait of Favade of Church of St. Paul and St. Louis, I'aris. From Roscngarteu. 
 
 Such architectural mouldings as were used were of the most contorted 
 Rococo character. The sculpture employed consisted of sprawling figures 
 of half-clothed angels, or of cherubs, or of saints, and was generally 
 unsupported — or at least not sufficiently supported — by the construction, 
 and the paintings which were interspei-sed with these belonged to the 
 most theatrical and the least devotional style of Art which has yet 
 been seen. 
 
 It was fortunate that this transitional style did not last long in 
 France. But specimens of it are to be found in every capital in 
 Europe where the Jesuits obtained a footing, and manv of its forms are
 
 Chap. I. FRANCE : ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 223 
 
 so gay and so taking with a certain class of minds that traces of them 
 are found long after the style has ceased to exist as a whole. 
 
 The Church of the Sorbonne, the first stone of which was laid in 
 1629, may be quoted as one of these examples which mark an epoch 
 and complete a stage of transition. It was designed by Le Mercier,i 
 under the orders of Cardinal Richelieu, and the greatest pains were 
 taken, by consulting architects both in France and Italy, to make it 
 as perfect as possible. It 
 became in consequence a 
 little St. Peter's, with the 
 addition of some of those im- 
 provements which Palladio 
 and others of his school had 
 subsequently introduced into 
 the style. It is a church of 
 no very great dimensions, 
 being about 150 ft. in length, 
 and its dome 40 ft. in 
 diameter internally. The 
 western fagade has the usua^ 
 arrangement of two storeys, 
 the lower one of Corinthian 
 three-quarter columns, sur- 
 mounted l)y pilasters of the 
 same Order above, and the 
 additional width of the aisle 
 being made out ])y a gigantic 
 console. The front of the 
 transept towards the court 
 is better, being ornamented 
 with a portico of detached 
 columns on the lower storey, 
 with a great semicircular window above ; and the dome rises so closely 
 behind the wall that the whole composition is extremely pleasing. 
 So it was evidently thought at the time, for it is illustrated in every 
 contemporaiy book on Architecture, and praised as a chef-d'oeuvre 
 of Art. 
 
 Another very similar work was commenced for Anne of Austria, 
 by Fran9ois Mansard,^ atVal de Grace, in the year 1645 ; but finished by 
 other architects, and in reality presents no points of novelty to distin- 
 guish it from that last quoted. There are several other churches of 
 the same class in the capital and its neighbourhood. Their style is 
 that found in Italy as prevalent during the sixteenth century, though in 
 
 102. Jesuit style of decoration. From Kosengarten. 
 
 • Born at Pontoisc ; died 1C60. 
 
 ■ Born 1598; died 16G(J.
 
 224 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 
 France they may generally be taken as characteristic of the age of 
 Louis Quatorze. 
 
 The one really remarkable building of this age which stands out 
 from the rest, and is one of the most elegant structures of its class, is 
 the Dome of the Invalides. It has the misfortune of being an after- 
 thought, attached to a much plainer church, with which it is hardly 
 in keeping, so that, though in reality only a part, it must be con- 
 sidered as a complete composition in itself. The dome was commenced 
 in the year 1G80 from the designs of Jules Hardouin Mansard,^ and 
 
 completed, entirely under his 
 superintendence, in the year 1706, 
 and is considered as thoroughly 
 the typical example of his genius 
 as the dome of St. Paul's is 
 considered the monument of Sir 
 ^j Christopher Wren. 
 
 In plan it resembles that of 
 ^1. Paul's more than any other 
 ir on the Continent, the four great 
 ^ T ]iiers which are universally em- 
 jiloyed abroad being placed so as 
 _ to produce an almost octagonal 
 \ \ effect, and are in fact pierced by 
 (^l doorways leading to the four 
 C^^A lateral chapels ; but these, as well 
 as the openings into them from the 
 transepts, are so small, that the 
 f] chapels, being besides on a different 
 
 ^ level, do not seem to form part 
 
 of the church. The area is thus 
 practically confined to the limited 
 ftheiiivuikks at Palis. From spacc uudcr thc domc, witli the 
 transepts, instead of embracing the 
 whole of the square, as it ought 
 undoubtedly to have done. The pillars standing free in front of those 
 piers produce a confusion which is far from pleasing ; for it is evident 
 that they do not support the masses above, and their prominence in 
 consequence takes away from the solidity so evidently demanded. 
 The small openings through the piers do not produce the same effect 
 as was aimed at in St. Paul's of making the ground-plan truly 
 octagonal, but, by restricting them to the dimensions here found, the 
 four great openings are made half the width of the dome itself, which 
 IS far better than the proportion of 40 to 108, as is found in our 
 
 103. Plan of the D.aiir , 
 
 w 
 
 Isabelle, 'Edifices OircuUires.' 
 Scale 100 ft. to 1 inch. 
 
 Born 1647 ; died 1708.
 
 Chap. I. FRANCE : ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. 225 
 
 ] 
 
 w 
 
 1 
 
 »i 
 
 i r 
 
 fe 
 
 104. Section of Dome of the Invalides at Paris. From Isabelle. Scale 5U feet to 1 inch. 
 
 VOL. r.
 
 22G HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE, Book HI. 
 
 t 
 
 105. Facade of the Dome of the luvalldes at Paris. From a Photograph. 
 
 example. The dome itself is t)2 ft. in diameter/ and internally less 
 than twice that dimension in height, which is also a more pleasing 
 proportion than is nsnally found, both St, Peter's and St. Paul's being 
 too lofty for the other dimensions of these churches. The eye, or 
 opening, is very large, and above it is a second dome, which is painted, 
 and produces a very pretty and pleasing, but very theatrical effect, 
 unworthy of such a building. 
 
 The external dome above this is, like our St. Paul's, of wood, and 
 so is the lantern, which deprives it of the dignity of that designed by 
 AVren ; but if a stone lantern could only be attained by the intro- 
 
 ^ The plan and section, with the di- 
 mensions quoted, are taken from Isabelle's 
 ' Edifices Circulaires,' which is usually a 
 most trustworthy authority ; but I cannot 
 help suspecting they are in excess. By 
 most authorities the dome is made about 
 
 82 ft. in diameter, and this, on the whole, 
 seems nearer the truth. Of eight or ten 
 works I have consulted, no two agree on 
 this point. The dimension.s given range 
 from 70 ft. English to '.t2.
 
 Chap. I. FEANCE : ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTUEE. 227 
 
 duction of the cone wliich distorts the English example, Mansard used a 
 wise discretion in refraining from attempting it. But, having done so, 
 perhaps it would have been better to have adopted an avowedly wooden 
 construction externally, instead of one meant to look like stone. The 
 external facade below the dome, though possessing no great novelty, is 
 well and harmoniously designed, though deficient in the simplicity of 
 arrangement which is so essential a characteristic of all good architecture. 
 On the other hand, the building being a Greek cross, and no part 
 exaggerated, the whole is certainly one of the most pleasing examples of 
 a domical building of this class in Europe, and wants a very little to 
 make it one of the typical as it certainly is one of the most beautiful 
 monuments of its class. It is true, nevertheless, that the introduction of 
 two Orders, the one superimposed on the other, does detract materially 
 from the dignity of the church, by making it appear two storeys in 
 height. But the introduction of only one range of pillars below would 
 have reduced the dome to being a mere cupola. As in this instance — ■ 
 more even than in our St. Paul's — the dome was intended to be the 
 principal feature of the design, it was probably prudent to sacrifice the 
 church to increase its dignity ; in fact, adding one more to the number- 
 less instances which prove how intractable the Orders are when applied 
 to modern purposes. 
 
 The body of the church of St. Sulpice does not, except in its size, 
 present any features worthy of notice. Internally, it presents the defect 
 inherent in Palladian churches, where an Order designed for external 
 purposes is used on the scale, and with the simplicity, which suits a large 
 area exposed to the atmosphere, but which l^ecomes offensively rude when 
 applied to internal decoration, in a building which not only pretends to 
 but demands elegance and richness of effect ; the absence, however, of a 
 dome at the intersection, prevents one part of the building from over- 
 powering the rest, either by its height or its extent, and the interior 
 consequently looks larger and is more harmonious than is usual in 
 churches of this class. 
 
 The western fa§ade, however, designed by Servandoni,^ was added, in 
 the middle of the eighteenth century, to the church commenced more 
 than a century before that time from the designs of Le Veau ; and, 
 though not without faults, it is one of the grandest of modern Europe. 
 The width of the porch is 205 ft., consisting of two Orders, superimposed 
 on one another, and rising to the height of 160 ft. to the top of the 
 •balustrade. It is flanked on each side by towers, one of which rises 
 100 ft. higher than the portico, but the two, as carried out, differ in height 
 as well as in design. The lower or Doric Order is doubled, not in front 
 but towards the rear, thus giving great richness of effect, and great 
 appearance of strength to the portico, and above this is an loin'c Order 
 
 > Born 1695; died 1766,
 
 228 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 Fa5ade of St. Sulpice, Paris, as originally designed. 
 
 of uood proportions, with an arcade behind, standing on the rear rank oF 
 the lower cohimns. It wonld, however, have been tetter if the arcade 
 had been on the lower storey, and if the Ionic coknnns instead had been 
 doubled. All this makes np a composition not (piite satisfactory, it 
 
 1"^' Plan of the Porch of St. Sulpice. 
 
 must be confessed, but much more so than any of those above described 
 as erected in Italy, certainly more so than any previous one in France : 
 and ^•ery little more is, in fact, wanted to make it a very beautiful design. 
 It is said that Servandoni originally proposed a pediment between the 
 towers, but happily this was not carried out. 
 
 Another portico, somewhat similar, was added a little before this 
 time to the cathedral of Anch ; but in this instance the towers are more 
 inntortant, and the centre too much subdued, so as to want dignity and
 
 Chap. I. FRANCE : ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. 229 
 
 to seem squeezed up between the lateral masses. The Order is Corinthian 
 throughout, and the whole details so rich and so well designed as to 
 produce a very pleasing effect, notwithstanding its incongruity with the 
 Gothic cathedral to which it is attached. 
 
 None of the churches mentioned above can compare, either in beauty 
 of design or in size, with that of St. Genevieve, or as it is more generally 
 called, the Pantheon, at Paris ; which, though smaller than St. Peter's, 
 St. Paul's, and some others, may still fairly be considered as entitled to 
 be ranked as the third or fourth of the great Eenaissance churches of 
 Europe. 
 
 It was commenced in the year 1755, in consequence, it is said, of a 
 vow made by Louis XV. during an illness at Metz, but practically 
 because the church of the patron saint of Paris, which stood immediately 
 behind the present building, was not only falling to decay, but had long 
 been considered as unworthy of its destination. After a considerable 
 amount of competition, the design of Soufflot ^ was accepted, and was 
 sufficiently advanced in 1764: to allow of the foundation-stone of one of 
 the piers of the dome being laid by the king ; but the building was not 
 entirely finished until after the death of its architect in 1781. In 
 consequence of its not being completed when the Eevolution broke out, 
 it was dedicated in the first instance to the " Grands Hommes " of France, 
 instead of to God, or to the Patron Saint for whom it was originally 
 designed. 
 
 The whole area of the church is 00,252 ft., or about that of an 
 average-sized Mediweval cathedral ; its extreme length being 802 ft., its 
 breadth across the transept 2G7, and its height to the top of the dome 
 265 ft. The building is practically in the form of a Greek cross, 
 surmounted by a dome in the centre 69 ft. in diameter internally, sur- 
 rounded by four smaller flat domes, each 57 ft. in diameter. In front is 
 a portico of fourteen Corinthian columns, of correct design, each 
 measuring 60 ft. in height, being consequently one of the grandest 
 porticoes erected in modern times ; but the effect is painfully marred l)y 
 the front columns being so widely spaced as to give an impression of 
 extreme weakness to the entablature, which, being composed of small 
 stones cramped together, looks feeble in execution when compared with 
 the grandeur of the design. Auother great defect is, that two of the 
 columns are placed outside at each end of the portico, in a manner so 
 unmeaning that it is difficult to understand how they came to be plac-ed 
 there ; and the arrangement produces weakness and confusion to an 
 extent to be found in no other portico of the same pretensions. 
 
 Beyond the portico the external walls of the church are plainer Lhan 
 are found in any other in Europe, the only decoration being the ental)la- 
 ture of the columns which is carried round, and a band ornamented with 
 
 Boru 1713; died 1781.
 
 230 
 
 IIISTOEY OF MODEEN AKCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 108. 
 
 Plan of tbc raiilhuini at I'aris. From IsabcUe. rM'alc lui) feet to 1 iucL.i 
 
 wreaths, &c., wliich corresponds with the capitals ; but below them tlic 
 wall is absolutely uul)roken by even a single wdndow, except in the rear, 
 and is only ornamented by a group of plain pilasters on the angles. 
 This is no doubt infinitely preferable to the Italian plan of introducing 
 two or three storeys of w^indows and an attic; but it is equally extreme 
 and almost equally objectionable, in the other direction. The best thing 
 would have been to have allowed the great semicircular windows of the 
 interior to be shown externally ; or, if that were impossible, some 
 windows, or niches, or panels — anything, in fact, that would have 
 reproduced the richness of the portico — would have been an improve- 
 ment. 
 
 The design of the dome externally is elegant and chaste, but on the 
 whole \(ivy inferior to that of St. Paul's ; the peristyle is weak, because 
 
 Thoiigli Ijotli the plan and section 
 arc carefully reduced from Isabcllo's 
 plates, the scale ol the plan is about 
 
 one-twentietii in excess of that of the 
 section : the latter, however, appears to 
 be correct.
 
 Chap. L FRANCE : ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. 231 
 
 View of the Weet Front of the Pantheon at Paris. From a Photograph. 
 
 unbroken, the attic too high, and the lantern too small and insignilicaiit. 
 It escapes, however, to a greater extent than any of its compeers (except 
 perhaps the dome of the Invalides) from the objection that it stands 
 on or rises through the roof ; and a very little more would ha^'c made it 
 satisfactory in that respect, but like everything else in the building, it 
 nearly reaches, but always escapes, perfection. 
 
 On the whole, its internal arrangements are very superior to the 
 external. No church of its class can compete with it in the elegance 
 of its details, or in the appropriateness with wliich the Classical features 
 are introduced. Except a certain degree of weakness in some parts of 
 the vaulting, introduced pur[)osely to show cleverness, there is no fault 
 to find with any detail, and the general effect is more elegant and 
 pleasing than that of any Classical church which has yet been erected. 
 Yet, as in every other part of the design, it is easy to sec how it might 
 have been better. Practically, the arrangement is that of four equal and 
 similar halls, surrounding a fifth, which, being of the same dimensions
 
 232 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 
 ;«il^?5-> 
 
 "f^ 
 
 Hu. Section of tile Domt; of the I'autlieuii at I'aus. hroiu IsalK-Ue Scale 5U feet to 1 iucb. 
 
 ill plan, though far superior in height, is not sufficiently dignified to be 
 the centre of such a group. The mode in which four piers of the dome, 
 with their accompanying pillars, are projected into the centre of the 
 church, is very confusing, and the glimpse caught of the adjoining 
 apartments behind them only adds to the complexity, without increasing 
 the appearance of spaciousness. 
 
 It is evident that the object of the architect in adopting this 
 arrangement was principiilly to display his cleverness in construction, 
 and to seek to astonish the spectator by one of those toi/r.s (Jc-foire wliich 
 are so common with a declining art, but which are absolutely fatal to
 
 Chap, I. FRANCE : ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. 233 
 
 true effect wherever introduced. In this instance it was \ovy nearly 
 entailing the destruction of the building ; for so soon as the centreing of 
 the great arches under the dome was removed in 1776, the piers began to 
 show symptoms of weakness ; but it was not till the dome itself was 
 practically completed in 1779 that this proceeded to such an extent as to 
 cause any real alarm for the safety of the building. On a careful 
 examination being made at that time it was found that the principal 
 cause of the failure arose from the faulty character of the masonry. 
 The stones of the piers were truly and correctly worked only to a depth 
 of about four inches from their face ; the rest being roughly hewn and 
 carelessly filled up with cement, so as to throw the greater part of the 
 strain on the face of the pier. This was to some extent remedied by 
 cutting into the joints with a saw, so as to relieve the pressure on them, 
 and to throw it more on the centre. This was partially successful ; but 
 the mischief went on to such an extent that serious fears were entertained 
 for the stability of the building, and in 1796 a commission of architects 
 was appointed to examine into the matter, in the following year one of 
 enghieers, and a third combined commission in 1798 ; but the danger 
 was such that no one could suggest a remedy, and after four years' 
 debate it all ended in shoring up the great arches and leaving the 
 building to its fate. 
 
 In 1806 M, Eondelet was appointed to repair the damage ; he found 
 that the piers had contracted to the extent of nearly six inches English ; 
 partly from crusliing, partly from the sawkerfing of the 
 joints in 1779. He at once set about replacing the 
 damaged stones, and added also consideral)ly to the mass 
 of the piers, as shown in the woodcut, where the shaded 
 part shows the pier as originally executed, the outline 
 as it now stands, Tliis was so successfully accomplished 
 that no sign of weakness has since displayed itself in 
 any direction, while at the same time the appearance of the church has 
 been very much improved by the greater soHdity given at the point 
 where it w^as most wanted for effect. 
 
 It is easy to see that the way in which all this might ha\-e been 
 avoided would have been by setting back the piers of the dome against 
 the angles of the building, and so increasing its size to a little o\er 
 1(»0 ft. This the building could easily have supported, both internally 
 and externally ; and had it been done, as an interior it would have been 
 unrivalled for architectural effect, while all the difficulties of constrnction 
 would have been got over by the additional mass that could ha\-e been 
 obtained without interfering with the effect, and the support that would 
 have been afforded by the junction with the outer walls. 
 
 This would, of course, have involved a rearrangement of the vaulting 
 of the roof, and perhaps also the bringing forward of the colunuis, so 
 as to make real aisles, instead of the narrow intercohnnniations now 

 
 234 HISTORY OF MODEHN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 existing. This, however, so far from being a defect, would jjrobably 
 have been a great improvement in the design. As it at present stands a 
 great degree of confusion arises from the continued breaks in the cornice, 
 and the consequent want of unity and repose in the design. It would 
 also have been an improvement if the eastern dome had been transferred 
 to the nave, converting the plan from that of a Greek to that of a Latin 
 cross, so that from the principal entrance the effect would have been of 
 continually increasing grandeur and magnificence, till the high altar was 
 reached, which, in that case, would have stood under the centre of the 
 great dome. 
 
 All these points were successfully attended to in the Abbe Haffre- 
 ingues church at Boulogne (ante, p. 4-i) ; and it is curious to observe 
 how a plan which, both virtually and artistically, is far suj^erior to the 
 metropolitan example, was utterly spoilt, because those appointed to 
 carry it out had hardly mastered the rudiments of the language in which 
 they were trying to express their ideas. On the other liand, how the 
 most refined and exquisite piece of Classicality fails permanently to please, 
 from the want of any great or correct intellectual conception underlying 
 its polished surface. 
 
 The columns of the internal peristyle of the dome being plain, while 
 those below are fluted, and the general poverty of the details of this 
 important featm-e, as compared witli that of the rest of the building, 
 produce a disagreeable effect, but one ^\•llich could easily be removed by 
 colour. This, in fact, is an addition which the whole building requires. 
 It is too light, too gay, for a church ; but if the great semicircular 
 windows were painted, and a moderate degree of tone introduced by 
 colour in other parts, it might be conceded, as many are inclined to 
 admit, that it was, in spite of the defects in arrangement just })ointed 
 out, the most beautiful interior of any modern church of Classical 
 design. 
 
 EEVIVAL. 
 
 At the time when the Pantheon was erected, it was considered the 
 perfection of Classical imitation, and the greatest pains were taken 
 that every part and every detail should be correct and supported by 
 authority. Before it was completed, however, it came to be believed 
 that perfection could only be obtained by copying the forms, as well 
 as the details, of extinct buildings, and consequently, as early as 1778 
 designs were prepared for an absolutely Classical building on the site 
 where now stands the chm-ch of the Madeleine. Nothing, however, 
 was then done, and the present edifice was commenced in 1804, from 
 designs by Yignon. The dimensions are very considerable, being a 
 rectangle measurhig 350 ft. in length by 147 in width, and consequently 
 covering more than 51,000 square feet. Externallv it is, to all
 
 Chap. I. FKANCE : ECCLESIASTICAL AECHITECTUEE. 
 
 235 
 
 appearance, a perfectly regular octastyle peripteral temple of the Corinthian 
 Order. As nearly as may be, its columns are of the same dimensions 
 as those of the Pantheon, but placed more closely together, though, on 
 the other hand, being built of smaller blocks, they are as deficient in 
 constructive dignity as the others. Internally, the clear space is 85 ft. 
 liy 280, divided, after the manner of the halls of the Roman baths, into 
 three spaces by Corinthian columns bearing arches. Each of these three 
 compartments is surmounted by a fiat dome, pierced by a skylight in 
 the centre, xlt the north end is the apse, 
 at the south a vestibule, and there is a 
 range of chapels and confessionals round 
 the sides ornamented by a smaller sub- 
 sidiary Order. 
 
 Taking it altogether, the arrange- 
 ment is probably the best that could be 
 adopted under the circumstances, and 
 the whole church has internally an air of 
 considerable grandeur and appropriate- 
 ness to the purposes of the Roman 
 Catholic ritual. As it now is, liowever, 
 the light is barely sufficient, and the 
 paintings, with the coloured marbles 
 and an excess of gilding, produce a 
 spotty and inharmonious effect, which 
 time may cure, but which at present 
 gives it more the air of a ball-room than 
 of a place dedicated to religious worship. 
 If this churcli had been used as a nave 
 leading up to a solid square block, occupy- 
 ing the whole width of the peristyle, the 
 three domes and fourteen pillars on each 
 side would have had all the Classicality 
 and beauty of the present edifice. If a 
 great triapsal dome, not less than one 
 hundred feet in diameter, had then been 
 added to the northward, it would have 
 converted the whole into one of the 
 
 grandest Clu-istian churches in the world, and given it the height and 
 dignity it requires, without essentially interfering with the Classical 
 effect its design is intended to produce. 
 
 Externally it is hardly open to criticism as a Christian church, for 
 which, in fact, it was not originally intended by its designers. It is, 
 however, so exact a reproduction of a Heathen temple, that it affords 
 an opportunity of judging how far the Romans succeeded in attainhig 
 to beauty and dignity in their temples ; and in this respect they have 
 
 112. Plan of the Madeleine at Paris. 
 Scale 100 feet to 1 inch.
 
 236 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book 111. 
 
 nothing to fear from an impartial criticism on their respective merits ; 
 but in order to arrive at these it wonlcl be necessary to consider the 
 Madeleine as placed on an eminence above the neighbouring buildings, 
 or standing in a piazza surrounded by houses of one, or at most of 
 two, low storeys in height, and not, as this is, by dwellings of six or 
 seven storeys high and of the most obtrusive architecture. It is here, 
 indeed, that the Madeleine fails. It is too low, too simple, and too 
 modest for its situation, and no spire or campanile, if attached, would 
 help the matter. It is, in fact, unsuited to a situation in the centre 
 of so tall a town as Paris ; but, ne\'ertheless, it must be considered — 
 barring some minor defects scarcely w'crth mentioning — as a very beau- 
 tiful building. Its design will hardly, however, be repeated ; for if 
 there is one thing which the experience of the Gothic architects settled 
 more completely than another, it is tliat height and variety of outline 
 are necessary to afford dignity to public buildings in towns ; and 
 their practice shows how easily and how successfully this could be 
 accomplished. 
 
 Hittorf was therefore right when he added two towers to the 
 facade of his Basilican Church of St. Vincent de Paul, which, after 
 those mentioned above, is perhaps the most important of the modern 
 churches of Paris. It is very Classical and very correct, and no 
 fault can be found with any of its details ; but somehow or other it 
 is not a success, and, like most of the modern churches in Paris, 
 fails entirely in producing the effect which is aimed at and expected 
 in these edifices. 
 
 Eecently two very important churches have been completed in 
 Paris, which being neither in the Classic nor Gothic style may enable 
 us to estimate to some extent what we may expect if we abandon 
 their trammels and venture on the broad field of oriofinal desisrn. 
 The first of these. La Trinite, at the end of the Chaussee d'Antin, is 
 a large and sufficiently ornamented church, in the style of the 
 early Renaissance of the age of Francis I. Its proportions are 
 good, and the tower, surmounted by a tall dome Avhich adorns 
 the southern fa9ade,i is of pleasing design, and well proportioned 
 to the position it occupies, while the interior is well lighted and richly 
 ornamented; but with all this the design fails to please. We can 
 admu-e the struggles of an architect like the designer of St. Michael's, 
 Dijon (p. 215), wdio is trying to escape from the rudeness of his own 
 style, and striving to reach the elegance of an art he only imperfectly 
 understands, while his earnestness makes us forgive him "the blunders 
 he connnits in consequence ; but when, in the nineteenth centurv, an 
 
 'Fortunately for their architectural the English. Many of our best modern 
 designs tlie French have not the same 1 churches arc ruined bv bcins? turned the 
 
 superstition with regard to orientation as ' wroTig way.
 
 Chap. I. FEANCE : ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTUEE. 287 
 
 architect affects delil^erately to go through the same process, we see at 
 once that he is only acting, and cannot feel any real enthusiasm for his 
 work, however clever it may be. 
 
 The other church of St. Augustin, in the Boulevard Malesherbes, is 
 in many respects better. Owing to the nature of the site it is wider 
 in rear and in front, and if the architect had met this difficulty by 
 successive rectangular offsets, he would have given strength, with 
 liglit and shade, to his building ; as it is he has sloped the sides away 
 at a considerable angle, and so produced that weakness of effect in- 
 herent in architecture to all obtuse angles. In the interior the defect 
 is entirely avoided. The sides of the great nave are parallel, and the 
 difference of width only observable in the increased size of the side 
 chapels. This also has enabled the architect to terminate his nave 
 in a great dome, under which the high altar stands, which is practically 
 the only true and effective mode of arranging the plan of a Christian 
 church. 
 
 Externally the design of the church fails, from the total want of any 
 depth in the reveals of the windows or accentuation in the parts, which, 
 added to the sloping sides, destroys all true architectural effect. But, 
 again, in the interior this is not felt. The construction is practically 
 of iron. Iron ^'aulting shafts supporting iron ribs, between which is 
 a roof partly in brick partly in wood, but all showing truth in con- 
 struction with considerable elegance in detail. Many things might 
 be better, but it seems a step in the right direction which, if persevered 
 in, might lead to a great success. As neither of these attempts can, 
 however, be said to be very encouraging, it will be curious to observe 
 how far the modern French architects may succeed in their present 
 attempts to reproduce, for ecclesiastical purposes, the Architecture of 
 the Middle Ages. They commenced the attempt long after we had 
 become familiar with its effects, but hitherto, notwithstanding their 
 cleverness, they have certainly not been successful. 
 
 One of their most ambitious attempts is the church of St. Clothilde 
 — Place Belle Cliasse — in Paris ; and, though its dimensions are those 
 of a small cathedral, it looks poor and insignificant internally, and the 
 exterior has neither the solidity nor the picturesqueness which is 
 always found in old the buildings, and which our English architects 
 have sometimes successfully imitated in their reproductions. The new 
 cathedral at Marseilles, however, promises to be successful ; and Notre 
 Dame de la Bonne Secour, near Rouen, and many of the village churches 
 recently erected, show how rapidly the French are progressing in their 
 imitative efforts ; and the task of copying is so easy, and so entirely 
 independent of intellectual exertion, that there can be little doubt but 
 that, when they have collected and drawn a sufficient number of models, 
 they will repeat them with a correctness that will deceive all but tlie 
 initiated. It is only to be wished that they would apply their money
 
 238 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 and their talents to some better purpose, and, above all, that they 
 would refrain from designing fagades according to the newest Parisian 
 fashion for such buildings as St. Ouen at Rouen, and many other 
 remarkable and interesting edifices, which have lately been made to 
 look as good as new, at the expense of those qualities which really give 
 meaning to a building, and speak to the heart of mankind through all 
 succeeding ages. 
 
 Barring this, however, and a few othei' similar mistakes, the very 
 extensive repairs of the Mediaeval churches of France which were 
 carried out during the late Empire were generally characterised by 
 good taste and judgment. Like all restorations of old buildings, it is 
 true, they have wiped out much of the poetry which was one of the 
 greatest charms of these buildings, and have obliterated or obscured 
 much of the history which was so plainly legible in their structure. 
 Ikit at the same time it must be confessed they have removed many 
 hideous excrescences and blemishes, and such substantial repairs have 
 been executed as will enable the fabrics to resist the destroying influence 
 of time, without which many of them might soon have been reduced 
 to ruin. 
 
 [The Conservation and Restoration of Ancient Buildings. 
 — It is well known that the Gothic school of architects and archasologists 
 in England have for a long time strongly disajiproved of the way in 
 which the French restore their ancient edifices, and especially their 
 chiu-ches. Of late years also the English manner of restoration has 
 itself been almost still more urgently denounced at home. There are 
 thus before us now three modes of dealing with historical edifices which 
 are going to decay. The first is to renovate them as the French do ; 
 the second is to reinstate them as the English have been doing ; the 
 third is merely to " maintain, uphold, and keep " them in a condition of 
 strict authenticity. Of course there is a great deal to be said for each 
 of these systems. The method of the French is quite characteristic of 
 the national sentiment ; for they scarcely care in anything to sacrifice the 
 convenience, and especially the presentableness, of the moment, for the 
 sake of ideal conservatism. And certainly, when they neatly scrape off 
 the corroded cuticle of a building, they are quite entitled to say that 
 they have left the building itself where it was, and indeed that they 
 lun-e put it into the original and desirable guise of a real authenticity, 
 in place of an acquired and undesirable condition of decay which it is 
 a mistake to call identity, being only old clothing. The extreme 
 doctrine of the English anti-restorationists, on the contrary, takes it for 
 granted that the crust of age is the chief element of authenticity, to be 
 retained at all hazards ; and this, again, is characteristic of the national 
 feeling. It is quite in accordance with even the loosest form of our 
 insular traditions that there has sprung up amongst us a sort of trans- 
 cendental conservatism— incidentallv allied to sentimental testheticism—
 
 Chap. I. FRANCE : ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. 239 
 
 whose highest ideal of archaeological virtue is the demonstrative preser- 
 vation of all the conditions of weather-worn dilapidation and decrepitude 
 absolutely intact. In this view of the case, not only is it a sacrifice of 
 authenticity to put a clean face upon an old building, by removing, 
 however carefully, the soiled surface, but it is a sacred duty to preserve 
 in absolute integrity the decay and almost the dirt, and to repair only 
 so far and in such a manner as that preservation strictly requires. Not 
 one stone must on any account be replaced by a new stone ; the surface 
 may be " made good " with some succedaneum, but nothing more must 
 be done. A piece of decayed woodwork must be left as it is, propped up 
 and protected from injury, but nothing more. That a broken pane of 
 really old glass may not be renewed it is equally easy to say ; and that 
 a new drain may not be put in where it is sorely wanted almost goes 
 without saying. The principle, in short, seems to be this : — that our 
 worship of genuine antiquity shall extend so very thoroughly to the 
 preservation of its remains as articles of curiosity, that if the owners of 
 an old mansion, or the parishioners of an old church, can no longer use 
 it with comfort, they must either submit to the discomfort or go away ; 
 in the latter case providing a fund for the perpetual protection of the 
 abandoned possession. Of this doctrine it is enough to say that it is no 
 doubt founded on generous feeling, but must not be allowed to oppress 
 us. The ordinary English restoration system takes up a position 
 between the extremes, and all it needs is judicious application. An 
 ancient edifice may be put into such substantial repair as to serve its 
 uses — reasonably rehabilitated, reinstated, renovated, perhaps improved. 
 If all this be done with a rational feeling of respect — not an irrational 
 feeling of veneration — the " restoration " may l)e achieved without 
 perceptibly compromising either the authenticities on the one hand or 
 the utilities on the other. But of course the success of such an 
 operation in withstanding criticism, which in any case may appeal to 
 such imaginative sentiments, must always be uncertain. — Ed.]
 
 240 HISTORY OF MODEEN ARCHITECTURE. Book HI. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 RENAISSANCE. 
 
 The liistoi'v of Secular Renaissance Architecture in France may be 
 conveniently divided into four o-reat sections, distintruished by the name 
 of the sovereign most prominent in encouraging Art during eacli of the 
 epochs. 
 
 The first, extending from the accession of Charles VIII. (1483) to 
 the death of Francis II. (1560), lasted seventy-seven years, and may be 
 distinguished as the Era of Frcmcis the First. 
 
 The second, commencing with the accession of Charles IX. (loGo) 
 and extending to the death of Louis XIII. in 1042, lasted eighty-two 
 years, and may properly be called the Age of Henri Quatre. 
 
 The third, dating from the accession of the Grand Monarque (1048) 
 and extending to the Revolution (1792), lasted, consequently, nearly 
 1 50 yeare : and is properly marked as that of Louis Quatorze. 
 
 The fourth, from that period to the accession of Louis Napoleon, 
 may be designated as the Revival , or the Period of the Empire, and may 
 even be extended to the present day ; or the reign of the Third 
 Napoleon may be treated as an Apjxiudix to the epoch of his great 
 
 Era of Francis I. 
 
 A.n. A.I) 
 
 Charles Vm 14S3 Henry II 1547 
 
 Louis Xn 1498 Francis II 1559 
 
 Francis 1 1515 
 
 Whatever may l)e tlie defects or deficiencies of the Ecclesiastical 
 Renaissance Architecture in France, she possesses in her civil buildhigs a 
 series of examples, certainly far more extensive than any other countiy 
 of modern Europe, and which may also probably compete successfully in 
 artistic eminence with those of almost any other country, not excepting 
 even Italy. 
 
 The immense accession to the power of her kings, from the con- 
 solidation of the empire, and the peculiarly monarchical institutions of 
 the country, enabled — it mav almost l)e said forced — them to rebuild the
 
 Chap. II. FRANCE : SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 241 
 
 old chateaux of the feudal ages on a scale commensurate with the wealth 
 and power acquired subsequently to the accession of Francis I. in the 
 year 1515. The consequence was that the beautiful new palace of the 
 Louvre, with its accompanying chateau at the Tuileries, succeeded to 
 the old confined fortalice bearing the first name, as the residence of the 
 kings in the capital. Fontainebleau supplanted the royal hunting- 
 seat at Vincennes ; and Chambord succeeded Plessis les Tours on the 
 banks of the Loire ; while St. Glermains, St. Cloud, and other palaces, 
 were erected, one after the other, in the neighbourhood of Paris, till they 
 culminated in Versailles, the greatest and most splendid of modern 
 palaces, though perhaps not the most successful as an architectural 
 design. 
 
 The nobles were not backward in foUowhig the example of their 
 kings, whose power and prosperity they shared. One by one the old 
 feudal castles disappeared, and were replaced by more commodious and 
 more suitable chateaux in the country and palaces in the towns, so that, 
 between the accession of Francis I. and the death of Louis Quatorze, the 
 Architecture of ancient France had nearly disappeared, in so far as the 
 residences of her kings and nobles were concerned, and was replaced by a 
 series of country seats and palaces more numerous and more splendid 
 than those possessed at that time by any other countiy, and combining 
 in many instances the picturesqueness of the Gothic with the elegance of 
 the Classic styles, to an extent not found elsewhere. 
 
 Of the other class of civil buildings they had little to destroy. 
 Except in the Flemish provinces, the cities had hardly any municipal 
 institutions which could give rise to much architectural magnificence. 
 Whether we admire or not the Town-halls and Palais de Justice wliich 
 are now found in most of her cities, we have not at all events to regret 
 the destruction of those which preceded them, as we should do if 
 Belgium and Flanders had replaced theu" municipal edifices by others in 
 the fashionable style of the age of Louis Quatorze. 
 
 In their extent, in their richness of decoration, and the amount of 
 wealth lavished upon them, it is probable that the civil and palatial 
 buildings erected in France during the last three centuries and a half 
 exceed considerably the ecclesiastical and feudal edifices which were 
 built in that country during a Hke period anterior to the year 1500, 
 But unfortunately it is impossible to institute such a comparison between 
 the two classes, as artistic utterances, as would lead to any satisfactory 
 conclusion. All the Art in the world could never elevate a palace, with 
 all its domestic and social arrangements, to the same scale as the great 
 hall of a cathedral, devoted only to the performance of a ceremonial of 
 the highest and most ennobling class. No splendour in the residence of 
 a noble can compete with the simple grandeur of a great monastic 
 institution, where all the grosser and less elevating characteristics of 
 human nature are at least kept out of sight, instead of being made more 
 VOL. r. R
 
 242 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 prominent by the luxury and frivolity by which they attempt to disguise 
 themselves in the palace ; and the old, real, independent sovereignty of 
 the municipality in the Middle Ages expressed itself with a manly vigour 
 that cannot be found in the last new design sent down from the Home 
 Office at Paris. 
 
 Besides tliis real difference in essence, came the more superficial 
 difficulty of style. It is true that the French architects were never so 
 completely enslaved to the Orders as the Italians became after Palladio, 
 or the English after Inigo Jones ; but they felt the chain, nevertheless, 
 and would have done much better had they never known the influence 
 of the Itahan school, or tried to reproduce the glories of ancient Rome. 
 The absurdity they committed was m fancying that the best Avay to 
 ornament modern buildings on the banks of the Seine was to cover them 
 all over with shreds of ornament from ancient edifices on the banks of 
 the Tiber. Although, therefore, the Renaissance Civil Architecture of 
 France belongs intrinsically to a lower class of Art than the Ecclesiastical 
 Mediaeval Styles, and is further vitiated by the imitative being introduced 
 to replace the constructive element, which is so essential in all true Art, 
 it is still a style so elegant, so gay, and so characteristic, that its study 
 will well repay any attention that may be bestowed upon it, provided it 
 is entered upon without adopting the naiTow class prejudices which arc 
 the bane of modern Art criticism. 
 
 The Louvre. 
 
 If not the greatest, certainly the most successful undertaking of 
 Francis I. was the rebuilding of the Louvre. It had always been the 
 principal residence of the kings of France in their capital, but had 
 become so confined and utterly unsuited to the wants of the age, that 
 there were only two alternatives — either to begin a new palace 
 altogether, as Catherine de Medicis did a little further west at the 
 Tuileries ; or to pull the old one down, and rebuild it. Francis decided 
 on the latter plan, and invited the celebrated architect Serlio to furnish 
 details for the new palace. It is not easy to ascertain how far the 
 ordinance of the present building was influenced by his designs ; but it 
 seems certain that the actual architect was Pierre Lescot.^ He virtually 
 made the drawings, and superintended their execution ; but the whole 
 arrangement is so beautiful, and the details are so elegant, that it is difficult 
 to believe that any native archit'Cct was its sole author, at least if one 
 may judge of what was done in France about this time and afterwards. 
 
 It is not quite clear Avhen the rebuilding was actually commenced, 
 but the part begun by Lescot, and completed in 1548, was the south- 
 
 ' Bom 1510; died l.i78.
 
 Chap. II. FRANCE : SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 113. rian of the Louvre and Tuileries, distinguishing the periods at which the various parts 
 have been comiileted. 
 
 R 2
 
 244 
 
 IIISTOr.Y OF MODERN APvCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 west aiiiile, from the Pavilion de THorloo-e down to the river-face 
 (Woodcut No. 114), and consists of two storeys of Ordei-s each about 
 30 ft. in heio-ht — the lower Corinthian, the upper Composite. These 
 are surmounted by an attic storey, only half the height of the two below 
 it. Throug-hout the whole, the details and profiles are singularly 
 correct for the age ; and the ornamental parts, having been 
 sculptured from the designs of Jean Goujon, not only heighten the 
 effect of the architecture, but are in themselves worthy of all praise. 
 The same ordinance, in all essential jjarticulars, has, at subsequent 
 periods, been carried all round the court, with the important addition 
 and improvement that, instead of ihe attic, a third storey, adorned 
 
 Pavilion de rHurloge and part of Louvre Court. From KoBengartcn. 
 
 with an Order, has Ixien substituted on the three remaining sides. 
 This not only gives greater height and dignity to the whole 
 design, but admits of its terminating in a cornice, which is an 
 essential element in all good designs in this school. An attic, how- 
 ever elegant it may be— and the French school cannot boast of one 
 more elegant than that of the Louvre— has always more or less the 
 appearance of an afterthought or of a makeshift; and one of 
 the greatest difficulties of modern Italian Architecture is how to 
 accommodate the bedrooms and other offices without having recourse 
 to it. When the Orders are used, an attic may, in some cases, 
 be indisijcnsable for utilitarian purposes ; but it cannot be doubted 
 that a building with a cornicione crowning the whole is a very 
 much better design in an architectural point of view. Although the 
 entablature of the upper Order of three sides (Woodcut No. 115) of 
 the Louvre Court is only in proportion to its own height, and not a
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 FRANCE : SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 245 
 
 cornicione proportioned to that of the whole huildiiig, its introduction 
 adds very much to the beauty of the composition. 
 
 In comparing it with the great courtyards of the palaces of Italy 
 or Spain, the one criticism that occurs is, that it wants light and 
 shade. If either the lower or the upper storeys had been open arcades, 
 or if loggias had been introduced anywhere, it would have relieved a 
 monotony which is rather strikingly apparent. Perhaps the most 
 pleasing arrangement would have been arcades in the lower storeys of 
 two opposite sides, and an open gallery on the upper storeys of 
 the other two facades, with three open arches in the centre of the 
 
 I'art of the Court of the Louvre. From Miriette's ' Architecture Frangiise. 
 
 principal storey of each face. Some such arrangement as this seems, 
 in fact, to have formed part of the original design, and in the older 
 works (as shown in Woodcut No. 115) it is always represented with 
 open arcades in one or other of the storeys. Considering that its 
 dimensions are nearly 400 ft. each way, something of the sort was 
 wanted to relieve its monotony ; but even as it now is, whether we 
 take its dimensions, or its richness of ornamentation, or the beauty or 
 appropriateness of its design, it is certainly the most beautiful court 
 belonging to any modern palace in Europe. 
 
 If we can in fancy assume a third storey added to the courtyard of
 
 246 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III, 
 
 the Great Hospital at Milan (Woodcut No. 75), and its dimensions in 
 plan increased to such an extent as to bear this without disproportion, 
 we might have a fair means of comparing one of the best and most 
 typical Italian examples with one of the best to be found on this side 
 the Alps. Of course the difference of climate accounts for the greater 
 part of the difference in design, but not altogether. If the Milanese 
 court consisted of three tiers of open arcades, it would fail architec- 
 turally, from want of solid parts, as much as that of the Louvre does 
 now from want of some open loggias or arcades to give variety of 
 light and shade. They are both extreme examples of their respective 
 styles — both very beautiful— but ea^h would have been better if it 
 had adopted, to some extent at least, the principles of the other. If, 
 for instance, one-third part of the arcades of the court of the Hospital 
 had been designed as solid, and a like proportion of the arcades of the 
 Louvre left open, the gain in effect would have been considerable, and 
 each of these designs would still have been appropriate to theii' 
 climate and the exigencies of the case. 
 
 But, notwithstanding this and some other minor defects which 
 might be pointed out, the Court of the Louvre is a wonder of elegance 
 and good taste, as well as of exquisite proportion, especially when Ave 
 consider the age in which it was executed, and it has not l)cen sur- 
 passed by anything which has been done either in France or in any 
 other country of Europe since its time. 
 
 Chateaux. 
 
 The palace at Fontainebleau is to the reign of Francis I. what 
 Versailles was to that of Louis XIV. — the palace of his predilections 
 and the place on which he loved to lavish his treasures, and where he 
 thought he was reproducing the glories of Classical Ai't. 
 
 In this instance there is little doubt but that Italians were mainly 
 employed. Rossi and Primatticcio seem to have been permanently 
 engaged ; Serlio was certainly consulted, and Vignola sojourned two 
 years in France, to assist the king in his architectural designs. But 
 the result is curiously unlike anything Italian, or anything we should 
 expect from these men. The plan is as irregular as anything in Gothic 
 Art, and there is a picturesque ahandon about the whole design which 
 is very charming and appropriate to the situation ; but; strange to say, 
 the effect of the whole is marred by the coarseness and ATilgarity of 
 the details. There is notliing offensive or exaggerated in the use of 
 the " Orders ; " but there is not a well-proportioned column or- a well- 
 profiled cornice in the whole building. A\Tien rustication is employed, 
 it is so used as to be unmeaning, and the window-frames throughout 
 are very badly designed. It is difficult to understand how this could 
 happen in a country where onlv recentlv the Flambovant architects
 
 Chap, II. 
 
 FRANCE : SECULAR AECHITECTURE. 
 
 247 
 
 had almost nuued Architecture by over-delicacy and lace-like work 
 in their details, and where the king was trying to imitate the even 
 more elegant style of the Classical age, and under the direction of 
 Italians, who, whatever their faults of design might be, seldom in their 
 own country erred from coarseness or vulgarity of detail. But they 
 fell into this error here ; and, whether from intention or not, it is 
 certain that the defects of detail mar what otherwise would be the most 
 poetic, as it is the most picturesijue, of French palaces. 
 
 We turn almost with pleasure from the ill -understood Classicality 
 of Fontainebleau to the thoroughly French design of Chambord, coni- 
 
 Plan of Chateau de Chambord. From Durand. 
 
 menced by the same king, in 1 520, immediately on^his return from his 
 Spanish captivity. The design is so essentially French, that, although 
 its details are generally Classical, they are kept so subdued,- and 
 subordinate to the whole, that they scarcely interfere with the effect 
 — certainly not more so than the details of St. Eustache, which leaves 
 that still as essentially a Gothic church as this is a Gothic chateau of 
 the country where it stands. 
 
 The chateau itself consists of a cul)ical square mass, measuring 
 220 ft. each way, from outside to outside of the four great towers 
 that adorn its angles. This is situated on one side of a court sur- 
 rounded by buildings. These are of the same height as the central
 
 248 
 
 HliiTOr.Y OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book HI 
 
 J
 
 Chap. II. FRANCE : SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 249 
 
 mass on that side wliicli it occupies : on tlie g-i-eater part of the other 
 three sides, only one storey in heig'ht ; and at each angle there is, or 
 rather was intended to be, a great circular tower, similar to those 
 attached to the main building. Measuring over these, the dimensions 
 of the building were 520 ft. by ?>'M). The whole was surrounded by a 
 terrace overhanging a broad and deep moat. The central Imilding 
 was -divided into three nearly equal storeys in height, but by cornices 
 so subdued as to l)e little more than string courses ; and the upper one 
 projected so as to carry a balcony all round the main building. It was 
 divided vertically into an infinite number of equal panels, by pilasters 
 of the Corinthian Order ; an arrangement which would have been 
 singularly monotonous in most cases, but which in this instance is 
 entirely relieved by the very varied outline of the Ixiilding, and, more 
 than that, by the different way in which they were treated — many 
 Iteing left blank, some filled in with arcades, and many with square- 
 headed windows — so that few buildings possess more of that unity 
 with variety which is so charmnig when properly employed in archi- 
 tectural composition. 
 
 The most singular and the most characteristic part of the whole 
 design is the roof, which rises to a cone, surmounted by a cupola, over 
 each of the towers, and in square masses over the rest. The whole 
 is relieved by dormer windows of very elegant design, and chimneys, 
 which are more ornamented and more ornamental than in almost any 
 building erected either before or since. The whole is crowned by a 
 central tower of domical form, but wholly of open work, containing a 
 richly ornamented spiral staircase. 
 
 If we attempt to judge this building by the loftiest canons of 
 architectural criticism, it would be easy to find many faults in it ; but, 
 taking it for what it is — a: chciteau in a flat country meant to be seen 
 over and to group with a park of ancient trees — as a hunting-seat of a 
 gay Court, unconscious of any very lofty aims — it conveys an impres- 
 sion of truthfulness, combined with elegance, which we look for in vain 
 in many works of more pretension of later times. 
 
 The palace or chateau of Madrid, in the Bois de Boulogne, at Paris, 
 is another production of the same age, the loss of which is more to be 
 regretted (it was destroyed in the Revolution) than that of any 
 other building of its period. From the drawings of it which exist, it 
 seems to have been of remarkably elegant design, and to have 
 approached more nearly to the palatial requirements of the age than 
 almost any other. 
 
 It was not very large, being only 265 ft. in length by 112 ft. wide, 
 but it was four storeys in height, and divided into three nearly equal 
 blocks by square towers at each of the angles, and two in each face. 
 Standing on a good bold basement, the two lower storeys were covered 
 by arcades of very elegant design, broken only by the towers ; and
 
 250 
 
 HISTORY OP MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 variety and relief were given to the whole by the centre being recessed. 
 The roof, though high, was far from being excessive ; and the chimneys 
 were treated as an essential part of the design. If we may judge 
 from the testimony of those who have seen it, and, more than this, 
 from the representations that still exist, there was certainly no 
 building for its size so palatial, or to which the Transitional style 
 was more happily applied, though it had not the picturesqueness of 
 Fontainebleau, nor the semi-feudal grandeur of Chambord. As an 
 exterior, however, it would probably have at least been equal to the 
 fragment of the Court of the Louvre, which was in couree of being 
 erected simultaneously, and almost in sight of this building ; while its 
 
 Chateau of Madrid. From Androuet du Cerc?au. 
 
 open arcades give it exactly that degree of shadow and relief the want 
 of which is so much felt in the Louvre. 
 
 The buildings described above are all more or less exceptional in 
 their arrangements ; but, in the private chateau of Buiy, near Blois, 
 we come on a type which more or less distinguished all the seignorial 
 mansions of France, both in town and country, and even the royal 
 palaces, when they were not on a scale too grand to admit of it. In 
 this example, as in most others, the principal coqjs de logis (tinted 
 darker iu the plan) is opposite the entrance, looking into a square 
 court in front, and opening in the rear upon a garden. 0})posite the 
 centre of the garden front is a chapel, wliich was generally omitted in 
 future designs. At each angle is a cii'cular tower, as at Chambord ; but 
 the circular form was found so inconvenient internally, that it Avas
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 FRANCE: SICCULAR ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 251 
 
 afterwards changed to a square block, when actual fortification was 
 no longer required, and even the suggestion of it became obsolete. 
 On each side of the court are two long wings, containing offices and 
 servants' apartments ; and these are joined in front by a screen wall, 
 solid externally, but covering an open arcade internally, and, in the 
 centre of this, the i^orte-cochere, or principal entrance, on which the 
 French architects of that and of all subsequent times have lavished all 
 the resources of tlieu" art. 
 
 With slight modifications, this became the type of all French 
 chateaux. Where the main building was three storeys high, the wings 
 were generally two ; 
 where the main build- 
 ing was only two 
 storeys in height, the 
 wings were generally 
 only of one, except in 
 towns, where, for very 
 obvious reasons, they 
 were frequently car- 
 ried as high as the 
 rest. Where a palace 
 was occupied by only 
 one owner, or where 
 it was situated in a 
 remote or quiet part 
 of the town, the same 
 arrangements pre- 
 vailed as in the coun- 
 try ; but where, as is 
 generally the case in 
 Paris, the main build- 
 ing is occupied by a 
 different family on 
 each floor, the wings 
 which contain the 
 offices, &c., belonging 
 
 to each suite of apartments, are necessarily as high as the rest. l\\ 
 towns, also, the front is generally occupied by shops on each side of 
 the porte-cochere, and its situation renders it too valuable for places of 
 business, or for another class of lodgers, not to cause it to be carried up 
 on the side towards the street as high, or even higher, than the rest 
 of the building. 
 
 With such modifications as these, the type of a French mansion 
 is as fixed as that of a French cathedral ; and, whether in the country 
 or the towns, they are objects of great beauty. Their courts may want 
 
 119. 
 
 Plan of the Chateau de Bury.
 
 252 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 the beautiful arcades which are so gra(;eful and so appropriate in the 
 cUmate of Italy, but their designs are infinitely preferable to the cubical 
 arrangements of English mansions. 
 
 To return, however, to the Chateau de Bury. Its fagades are divided, 
 like Chambord, into rectangles by small Corinthian pilastei"s ; and these 
 are occupied, either alternately or in groups, by square-headed windows, 
 or by panels, with a device in the centre ; and everything is balanced 
 with so much appropriateness that the effect is as pleasing as in any 
 design of that age. The arcade on each side of the principal entrance to 
 the court is composed of Corinthian pilasters, with arcades between, the 
 whole being of pleasing proportions, and elegant in their detail. 
 
 Considerable additions were made during the reign of Francis I. to 
 the castles of Blois and Amboise. The staircase and the wing, in the 
 centre of which it stands, at Blois, arc among the most admired, or at 
 least the most fre(|uently drawn, of the works of this age. It owes its 
 
 Eiai2fiipiip3^a 
 
 1111 ill i iini 
 
 120. Chateau de Bury. From Mariette, ' Ardiitecture Fruii9jise.' Scale 50 feet to 1 inch. 
 
 attractions, however, more to its adherence to the principles of the past 
 than as an earnest of the future ; and the building on each side of it 
 hardly varies from what is found at Chambord and Bury. 
 
 Chenonceux is to be admired from the extreme picturesqueness of its 
 situation on its lake, standing princii)ally on a bridge in the water, r.ither 
 than from any excellence in the design and details : and that pirt of 
 Chantilly which belongs to this period merely repeats what is so often 
 found elsewhere. 
 
 The most unliapjiy effort of the Art of this age is the gloomy pile of 
 St. Gcrmain-eu-Laye, almost wholly Gothic in design ; the Classical 
 features which are spread over its buttresses and arcicles serving merely 
 to deju-ive them of their constructive propriety of ai)pearance without 
 suggesting any feeling of Classical Art. The 'same thing, it must be 
 confessed, occurs rather frequently in smaller and less im]H)rtant examples ; 
 but, on the whole, the style of the age of Fr.uicis I. may l)e consiilered
 
 Chap. II. FRANCE : SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 253 
 
 as one of the best examples of the Transition to be found anywhere. 
 It is true it entirely misses the grandeur of the early Florentine or the 
 exuberance of the Venetian style, but it is always gay and elegant. 
 Though adopting Classical details, it retains its originality, and mixes 
 with singular felicity the picturesqueness of the Gothic with the 
 simplicity of Classical arrangements. As a general rule, its details are 
 marked with elegance, but with a tendency to over-elaboration, arising 
 from the circumstance of the architect frequently encroaching on the 
 domain of the painter, and introducing forms and details which, though 
 beautiful as painted arabesques, are not such as should ever be carved in 
 relief on more monumental materials. 
 
 There are in France very few municipal or civic buildings of this 
 age. It is essentially a palace-building epoch, and churches and H6'-,els 
 de Ville are mere exceptions. One of the earliest of the latter class is 
 that at Orleans, which was commenced at least during the fifteenth 
 century, and offers a curious and interesting specimen of the very earliest 
 introduction of Classic forms. It is more picturesque, however, than 
 beautiful. All the details are elegant, and combine many of the beauties 
 of both the parent styles ; but neither used appropriately in this example, 
 being jumbled together in most admired confusion. It is interesting, 
 however, as exemplifying a transitional style peculiar to France. 
 Neither in Italy nor in England is there anything similar. It could only 
 have sprung out of the Flamboyant style, which had already squared the 
 heads of its windows, and adopted many of the forms of the Eenaissance, 
 before it was thought necessary to carry them out with details borrowed 
 from the Classical styles. 
 
 The other municipal example of this age is the well-know^n Hotel de 
 Ville of Paris, which in style far more resembles the contemporaiy 
 buildings at Fontainebleau ; all traces of Gothic details having dis- 
 appeared from its design, and very little of the Gothic feeling remaining 
 in its outlines. It was, however, an eminently picturesque building ; 
 and even now, though enveloped in one of the most successful designs of 
 modern times, it holds its own without much detriment to the general 
 effect. 
 
 The tiling, however, which perhaps pleases most in the Ai'chitecture 
 of this age, is the beauty and general appropriateness of the details. 
 Ex(«pt at Fontainebleau, the Classical features, when introduced, are 
 treated with almost Flamboyant delicacy, and men had not yet learned 
 to think that copying the forms of one incongruous building could 
 improve the design of another. For centuries they had been designing 
 buildings only with reference to their purposes, and adding detaib only 
 from their appropriateness ; and it requires a great deal of teaching 
 before men can forget this, and adopt an entirely new principle of Art. 
 Although, therefore, they might be enamoured of Classical forms, they 
 could not at once forget that details were only a mode of expressing
 
 254 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURP]. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 more strongly certain constructive or artistic forms of the building to 
 which they were applied ; and it did not then occur to the architects to 
 use them, as was afterwards done, as extraneous adjuncts, without 
 reference to the edifice to which they were added : iii the Woodcut 
 No. 121, for instance, representing one bay of the Archbishop's Palace 
 at Sens ; where, although all the details are Classical, or nearly so, it is 
 impossible to say that any one is either inappropriate or mars the 
 
 121. Bay of the Episcopal Palace at Seii^. I 
 
 uvageot, ' Palai~, 
 
 iVc, lie France. 
 
 gencr.il design. The upper pilasters cannot be dispensed with, if the 
 lower range is to be employed, which seems an indispensable part of the 
 arcaded forms l)elow ; and the way in which their lines are carried 
 through by a console, gives them all the continuity of a buttress, with 
 more than its usual grace. 
 
 The other example, from a fagade added to a house traditionally 
 called that of Agues 8orel, at Orleans, exemplifies the same principle.
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 FRANCE : SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 255 
 
 In this instance, the arcade l)eing supported on single cokimns, their 
 work and their design could not be well carried through by a mere 
 ornamental pilaster. They are working members of the design, and are 
 left to tell their own tale their own way ; and to the Classical features 
 is left the purely ornamental task of framing the windows and relieving 
 the monotony of the flat surface of the walls. The one thing that 
 appears to have been omitted is a console over each pilaster to support 
 the cornice. The frieze in consequence seems blank and unmeaning, 
 
 House of Agnes Sorel at Orleans. From Verdier and Caltois. 
 
 and the design is certainly considerably marred l)y the want of a bolder 
 cornice more directly connected with the lower part of the fa9ade. 
 
 From the examples just (juoted, it is evident that the French archi- 
 tects had quite abandoned Gothic art as barbarous, but were at the 
 same time embarked in the ^dangerous enterprise of trying to copy a 
 style they did not understand. In the next age — that of Henry IV. 
 — the effect of this was painfully felt ; but, generally speaking, the 
 buildings of Francis I. are tolerably free from vagaries. The annexed 
 woodcut, however, from the Hotel Vogue at Dijon, will explain how
 
 256 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECT I' RE. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 the temptation was working. It is very rich and beautiful, and in its 
 style hardly to be found fault with ; but it is evident that, though 
 architects may adojit such forms and such details as these with the 
 idea that they are Classical, yet when they do so they have dropped 
 the bridle that ought to restrain architectural forms to their true 
 function of expressing construction, and that only, and there is then 
 no limit to the extravagances they may attempt, or the strange forms 
 they may introduce. 
 
 This, however, is on the very limits of the style of Francis I., and 
 can hardly be said to be a defect of his age. The defect of his build- 
 ings is the want of grandeur of conception and mass, far more than 
 faults of detail ; and this is probably owing more to the fact of all 
 
 Window-licad, Hutel Vogue, Dijon. Fiom Sauvageot. 
 
 the buildings of his reign being palaces and chateaux of a more or 
 less domestic character, in which it is vain to look for anything ap- 
 proaching to grandeur or sublimity. They only pretended to be what 
 they were ; and though this was one of their greatest merits, the 
 general effect was to lower the standard of architectural excellence 
 even more than any errors of detail could possibly have done. The 
 true spirit of the style was perhaps best seen in France, as well as in 
 Spain, in the shrines, tombs, altars, and smaller objects of decorative 
 art, where the designers, being freed from all constructive necessities, 
 could indulge their fancies without restraint. There is scarcely any 
 important church in France where there is not to be found some 
 richly-carved specimen of screen-work, like the tomb of the Cardinal 
 
 I
 
 Chap. II. 
 
 FRANCE : SECULAR ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 257 
 
 d'Amboise at Eouen. Frequently the details are so elegant, and the 
 effect so rich, as almost to disarm criticism ; but the result is never 
 equal to the labour bestowed on such works ; and even when merely 
 screens, the total forgetfulness of constructive propriety generally 
 
 124. Canopy of Tomb of Cardinal Amboise at Rouen. From Rosengarten. 
 
 spoils the effect, and the incongruity between the materials employed 
 and the forms used is so apparent, that the result cannot be per- 
 manently satisfactory. These defects, however, are not nearly so 
 offensive in screen-work as they w^ould be in buildings of a more 
 permanent or monumental description. 
 
 VOL. T.
 
 258 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 STYLE OF HENRY IV. 
 
 CharlrsIX 1560 ] Ilenrv IV 15S9 
 
 Henry III 1574 | Louis XIII 1610 
 
 As explained above, during the reign of Francis I. the " Ordere " were 
 kept in pleasing subordination to the exigencies of the construction, 
 and the ornaments were generally elegant and not inappropriate ; 
 but almost immediately after his death the architects seem to have 
 thrown off all restraint. Grreat Corinthian pilasters sprawl through 
 two or three storeys of windows ; as a general rale a window cuts 
 through the ental)lature of the Order ; circular pediments alternate 
 with triangular ones, and both are frequently broken for no object but 
 to produce variety ; rastication takes the most fantastic shapes, while 
 griffons and monsters of all sorts appear in the place of more appro- 
 priate details. The great debacle of taste arrived at its culminating 
 point in the reign of Henry IV., during which the architects seem to 
 have fancied that perfection was to be attained by uniting the gro- 
 tesque picturesqueness of the Gothic with the gigantic features with 
 which Michael Angelo had overlaid his pseudo-Classical constnictions. 
 It was some time, however, before Architecture fell to the depths 
 it then reached, and during the reign of Louis XIII. was gradually 
 recovering, and forming itself into the purer style of the Grand 
 Monarque. 
 
 The most extensive undertaking of the earlier part of . this archi- 
 tectural epoch was the building of the Tuileries, commenced in 1564 
 by Catherine de Medicis, from designs by Philibert de Lorme.^ The 
 original plan has been preserved by Du Cerceau, and shows that it was 
 intended to have been a rectangular block, measuring 860 ft. north 
 and south by 550 east and west. In the centre was to have been a 
 s(|uare court, as long, but not quite so wide, as that of the Louvre ; 
 and two smaller courts on each side, divided in the centre by galleries, 
 enclosing smaller courts of elliptical form. 
 
 In so far as the plan is concerned, there is nothing to object to, 
 but the whole building seems to have been designed to be only one 
 
 ' Born in Lyons ; died 1578.
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 FEANCE: STYLE OF HENRY IV 
 
 259 
 
 Central Pavilion of the Tuileries, as designed by De Lorme. From Mariette. 
 
 Storey in height, with an attic of gigantic dormer windows. With 
 such lineal dimensions as those quoted above, so low a building must 
 always have looked mean and insignificant, even when relieved by a 
 pavilion like that designed and executed for the centre ; which is far 
 from being commendable in its general outline or in its details. All 
 that can be said in its favour is, that there is a general thoughtful 
 appropriateness about the design which pleases, and which charac- 
 terises the epoch, though it has little other merit. 
 
 Only the garden fa9ade was completed by its foundress— the courts 
 were never even commenced ; and the defects of what was completed 
 were rendered doubly apparent by the erection, during the reign of 
 Henry IV., of the two great unsightly pavilions (one of which is shown 
 in AVoodcut No. 127) which now bound it, designed by the architect 
 
 * S 2
 
 260 
 
 HISTOEY OP MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 Du Cerceau. Not only did their erection extend to nearly 1000 ft. in 
 length, a fa9ade already too long for its height, but, by their mass and 
 the largeness of their details, they crushed the prettinesses of De Lorme's 
 design into double insignificance. 
 
 It was in order to correct these two glaring defects that Louis 
 Quatorze raised the whole facade between these two blocks to thi'ee 
 storeys in height, and remodelled the centre to what it recently was. 
 
 It thus happens that very little of 
 De Lorme's design remained, and 
 nothmg enabling us to judge of the 
 effect that he intended to produce. 
 Whatever its merits may have been, 
 it certainly was injured by the ad- 
 ditions of Henry, far more than it 
 was improved by the alterations of 
 Louis ; these have, however, made it 
 one of the most picturesque, though 
 certainly it is far from ranking as 
 one of the most beautiful, fagades in 
 Europe. Without the softening hand 
 of time, and the prestige which his- 
 tory has given, it could hardly be 
 spoken of in terms of sufficient repro- 
 bation as an architectm-al desiga. 
 
 Contemporaneously with the ear- 
 lier buildings of the Tuileries, Charles 
 IX. coimuenccd, at a place he called 
 (/harleval, in Normandy, a palace 
 which, if it had been completed on 
 the scale in which it was designed, 
 would have surpassed all the palaces 
 then existing in France in size and 
 stateliness of arrangement ; but, in 
 so far as we can judge from the plates 
 of Du Cerceau, the style of the details 
 was such that France may congi'atu- 
 late herself that no such monstrosity 
 disfigures her soil. It is impossible to conceive anything more fantastic 
 or vulgar ; and it is difficult to conceive how French taste could ever 
 have sunk so low as to admire such a thing as this. 
 
 One specimen (Woodcut No. 126) must suffice to illustrate the 
 style, though unfortunately the examples are only too conunon, and 
 not only rival but surpass the absurdities of the Jacobean age in our 
 own country. It is taken from the Chateau Gaillon, a building of 
 the latest Gothic age, but which was added to and beautified at this 
 
 126. Portion of the Fagade of the Chateau 
 Gaillon. From Du Cerceau.
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 FRANCE : STYLE OF HENRY IV. 
 
 261 
 
 ]ieriocl in the style then fashionable. At the present day we can 
 hardly understand how architects could desert the constructive pro- 
 priety and elegance of detail of the Middle Ages for such a style ; 
 still less how they could fancy they were reproducing Classic Art 
 when they did so. But it was so, for nearly all the most admired 
 Ijuildings of this age were decorated with details as bad as this, if not 
 worse. 
 
 Besides the two pavilions called De Flore and Marsan, which 
 Henry IV. added to the fagade of the Tuileries, he commenced, in 
 the same style, the great gallery that connects the Lou\-re and the 
 Tuileries, and which may be taken as a fair specimen of the Ijest 
 
 Pavilion Flore of the Tuileries, and part of the Gallery of the Louvre. From Mariette. 
 Scale 50 feet to 1 inch. 
 
 Architecture of his day. Its general character will be understood 
 from Woodcut No. 127, representing the pavilion at its junction with 
 the Tuileries, and the position of the galleries adjoining it. It is 
 adorned with great Corinthian pilasters, 40 ft. in height, which have 
 no reference either to the structure externally or to the arrangements 
 of the interior. As usual also, the entablature is cut through by the 
 windows ; and a series of pediments, alternately semicii'cular and 
 straight-lined, give a broken line, which aggravates instead of miti- 
 gating the overpowering heaviness of the roof. The architects seem 
 to have proceeded on the idea that largeness of details would give size 
 and dignity to a building ; whereas, had they cast their eye on any
 
 262 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 Gothic structure, they Avould have seen that the truth lay exactly in 
 the opposite direction, and that smallness of parts and details, com- 
 bined with simplicity of arrangement and of mass, are the true secrets 
 by which the effect they were aiming at could alone be obtained. 
 
 It is ^yith pleasure we pass on from these aberrations of Du Cerceau 
 and Duperac to the return of soberer taste which marks the designs of 
 Lemercier : ^ for though little remains of what he erected at the Palais 
 Royal, we have, at the Sorboune and elsewhere, the germs of that 
 style which characterised the following epoch. 
 
 Perhaps the most satisfactory building of this age is the palace of 
 the Luxembourg, commenced shortly after Kill, by De Brosse, for 
 Marie de Medicis. It is so sober that one would be startled to find it 
 
 belonging to that date, 
 if it were not that it 
 was built for a Medici, 
 who insisted that the 
 Pitti and other palaces 
 of her beloved Florence 
 should form the key- 
 note of the design. 
 
 In plan it is essen- 
 tially French, consisting 
 of a magnificent rorjjs 
 de logis — shaded darker 
 in the plan — 315 ft. in 
 width by 170 in depth, 
 and tlii'ee storeys in 
 height, from which 
 wings project 230 ft., 
 enclosing a courtyard, 
 with the usual screen 
 and entrance tower in 
 front. 
 
 The greatest defect 
 of the design is the 
 monotony of rustication 
 which is spread over 
 the whole, from the basement to the attic, and covering the pillars 
 as well as the plain surfaces. It is true it is not used here with the 
 vulgarity which so frequently characterises the rustication of the ^ 
 previous reign, but with something of Italian elegance ; and the 
 architect has taken great pains, by the boldness of his masses, and 
 the variety of light and shade he has introduced everywhere, to 
 
 ' Bolu at Pontoise ; died 1660. 
 
 128. Plan of the Luxembourg. From Mariette. 
 
 I
 
 Chap. III. 
 
 FRANCE: STYLE OF HENRY IV. 
 
 263 
 
 justify its employment, and has sought to reheve the monotony of 
 detail by the variety of outline. He has done this with such success 
 that even now there are few palaces in France which on the whole 
 are so satisfactory and so little open to adverse criticism. 
 
 In Louis Philippe's time a large addition was made to the main 
 coiys cU logis of this palace, in order to fit it for the reception of the 
 Chamber of Peers. With great good taste the new part was made 
 exactly similar to the old, but the effect has been, by increasing its 
 
 Elevatiou of a portion or the Courtyard cf Ihu Luxembourg. 
 
 breadth, to make the whole design more squat than it originally was, 
 and to increase the lowness, wliich is really its principal defect. This 
 effect, too, has become more apparent in modern times, by the increased 
 and increasing height of the new buildings of Paris. Even now it 
 would not be so apparent if the whole building had been crowned l)y a 
 cornicione. When the principal feature is at the top, the eye^is carried 
 at once to the highest point, and the design gets the full benefit of all 
 the height it has ; but when the princijjal feature is one-third of the 
 way down, all there is alcove counts for Ijut little in the general design.
 
 264 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 It is surprising that Marie de Medicis did not insist on the intro- 
 duction of a cornicione, as it is the great characteristic of Florentine 
 design. Even if she had done so, the taste of the French architects 
 would probably have been too powerful for her ; for throughout the 
 whole range of French Architecture there is scarcely a single example 
 of a facade with a well-profiled or well-proportioned cornice ; and in 
 nine cases out of ten there is some sort of attic above the cornice. 
 Where it does crown the building — except in such absolutely Classical 
 designs as the Madeleine, for instance — it is proportioned only to the 
 Order, not to the whole elevation, and consequently is never integrally 
 a part of the entire design. 
 
 It would be well if this were the only, or the greatest defect that 
 could be pointed out in the Architecture of the age. It is unfortunately 
 one of the most venial ; the real deficiency of the style being, that the 
 details introduced are seldom elegant, and are generally gross and 
 grotesque. They neither aid nor express the construction, and the whole 
 designs are as far removed from the constructive propriety of the Gothic 
 as they are from the elegance and grandeur of the Classic styles which 
 the architet;ts so strangely thought they were reproducing.
 
 CxiAP. IV. FRANCE : STYLE OF LOUIS XIV. 265 
 
 CHAPTEK IV. 
 STYLE OF LOUIS XIV. 
 
 Louis XIV 16J3. Louis XV 1715. Louis XVL 
 
 So soon as the French architects of the early part of the seventeenth 
 century had thiie to compare their performances with those of other 
 countries, it was ahnost impossible they should fail to perceive that 
 they had not hit on the right path in their endeavours to endow 
 their country with a new style. Their works had neither the original 
 nationality of those of the reign of Francis I., nor had they the elegant 
 Classicality which had been attained in Italy in the works of Palladio, 
 and others of his school. It was consequently open to them either to 
 go back to the point where the style had been left half a century 
 earlier, and to try and recreate a national style, or to adopt the 
 principles so successfully carried out in Italy. 
 
 Knowing how essentially the tendencies of that age were towards 
 Classical forms, not only in learning and in literature, but in Art also, 
 it is easy to surmise that the architects of the day would adopt the same 
 principles which had been introduced into Italy, and that, during the 
 reign of the Grand Monarque, the style which was then assumed to 
 i-epresent the Architecture of Imperial Rome would become the pre- 
 \ailing fashion. 
 
 At the present day we are so fully imbued with the love of the 
 picturesque, and admiration for everything that even savours of Medi- 
 evalism, that it is difficult for us to understand how the architects 
 of the age of Louis Quatorze could forsake the picturesque style of 
 Francis I., to adopt the cold, formal arrangements of their day. When, 
 however, we place the buildings of the two ages in immediate juxta- 
 position, as we are able to do in such an example as the view of Blois 
 (Woodcut No. lao), we see at once what the architects were aiming at, 
 and why they took the means they did to arrive at it. Though the 
 new part may now appear to us cold and formal, there is a largeness 
 about the windows which betokens a well-lighted interior, a height 
 between the floors indicating spaciousness in the apartments, and a 
 general simplicity and elegance of design which, especially when new, 
 nuist ha\e produced a most pleasing effect. Ilowex'er pictures(|ue
 
 266 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 the carliei- buildings might be, the storeys were low, the windows 
 small, and anything like stateliness or grandeur inside was impossible. 
 It must also be borne in mind that it is the inside of the house or 
 palace which is important ; and, consequently, when stateliness and 
 grandeur were aimed at, larger and more regular designs were 
 indispensable. 
 
 To this must be added the greater familiarity with, and increased 
 admiration for, the literary works of the Classic ages ; and tlie con- 
 
 Part of the ChSteau de Blois. From Laborde, ' Monumens de la France.' 
 
 sequent desire to rival, by copying them, which pervades the literature 
 even more than it does the Art of this age. It requires only the 
 most superficial knowledge of the works of Corneille, Racine, Boileau, 
 and the other great writers of that day, to be aware how essential 
 it was assumed to be to copy literally the forms of Classic literature ; 
 and the general idea of reproducing Rome seems to have pervaded 
 every utterance of the people ; but the success of the attempt was 
 nearly alike in all cases. Racine did not become Euripides, Boileau 
 did not rival Horace, nor Louis the Grand either Julius Cffisar 
 or Augustus ; nor did the architects of this aa'e do more than 
 
 I
 
 Chap. IV. 
 
 FRANCE: STYLE OF LOUIS XIV. 
 
 269 
 
 ancient or modem times. The central projection measures 320 ft., 
 and each wing about 500, so that its length is 1320 ft. in a straight 
 line north and south. As the central block projects forward 280 ft. in 
 front of the wings, the whole fa§ade really measures 1880 ft. It is this 
 projection which alone saves it from being as undignified a Terrace as 
 exists in any town in Europe. There being no variety in the design, 
 and nothing to compare it with or give a scale, it looks like an ordinary 
 row of street houses three storeys in height. Only with considerable 
 difficulty, and after a great deal of thought, can it be ascertained that 
 it is larger and taller than any ordinarv mansion, and is, in fact, a 
 palace of colossal dimensions. The lower storey is rusticated through- 
 out, and pierced with circular-headed openings of one design, and of one 
 
 Section of Great Gallery and part Elevation of central block, Versailles. 
 
 dimension, whether they are used as windows of bedrooms or carriage 
 entrances through the buOding, to both which purposes they are here 
 applied. The principal storey is adorned with an Order, used some- 
 times as pilasters, at others as columns standing free ; but the pillars 
 are so widely spaced as at a distance to give the idea that, if the archi- 
 trave is of one stone, they must necessarily be very small ; and on a 
 nearer approach, when you see that each is composed of a number of 
 small pieces cramped together, the whole has an appearance of mean- 
 ness most unworthy of the situation. Over this is an attic which ends 
 in nothing. Had it borne a deep coniicione, it would have gone far to 
 redeem the whole. But there are fifty ways in which the design might 
 have been saved. Any bold projection on the angles, any towers or 
 domes to break the sky-line, any variety in the wings to give scale, 
 would have effected this ; but the fiat monotony of design in such
 
 270 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 a building is one of the greatest architectural crimes of modern 
 times. 
 
 Internally, the design is as objectionable as that of the exterior. 
 The entrance is mean ; there is no portico, no grand hall, no staircase 
 worthy of such a palace, no vestibule, or any arrangement that would 
 impart either dignity or poetry to the whole. So much is this the case, 
 that very few persons are probably aware where the principal entrance 
 really was, and fewer would believe if told that it was only an insigni- 
 ficant doorway on the right-hand side of the Cour Royale, near the 
 principal staircase. 
 
 The Grand Gallery, with the pquare vestibules at either end, 
 extending along the whole of the centre of the garden front (320 ft,), 
 is certainly one of the most gorgeous apartments in Europe — rich in 
 marbles and in decorations ; but it is only a gallery 35 ft. wide and 40 
 ft. high, and is not a hall or a. room with any point of interest in it. 
 Architecturally, it is a passage that ought to lead to some more splendid 
 apartment ; it is without a vestibule or staircase leading to it, and it 
 leads to notliing. 
 
 All, perhaps, that can be said in favour of the design is that, 
 though it is commonplace, there is in it no glaring offence against good 
 taste ; and no part of it can be said to be a sham, or to pretend to be 
 other than it really is. Eustication is only used in the basement ; the 
 Order is well profiled, and never runs through two storeys, or where it 
 might not be legitimately used : and the attic is such as might be 
 indispensable in such a palace. It was, however, a strange perversion of 
 Architectural propriety, in order to make the centre uniform with 
 the wings, to carry the glazed attic over the Order along the central 
 part of the garden front, where the great gallery occupies the whole 
 height above the basement. Had an Order 40 ft. in height been 
 introduced here, it would only have correctly expressed the internal 
 arrangement (Woodcut No. 132), and would have been just what was 
 wanted to give this part the dignity it lacks. The most ordinary 
 fault of architects of the present day is that they attempt to make 
 buildings of three or four storeys in height look as if they were only 
 one or two ; but both at St. Peter's at Rome, and at Versailles, the 
 fault has been, throwing away the dignity obtained from singleness 
 and largeness of internal parts, to make the building look as if it 
 was composed of a larger number of small apartments. Of the two 
 faults the latter is the greater. To aim at grandeur, even if not (juite 
 legitimate, is far nobler than to court littleness where grandeur really 
 exists. 
 
 This uniformity, more than any real defect of design, destroys 
 the effect of the fagade at Versailles. It is impossible to believe that 
 all the 1800 ft, of frontage are alike taken up with stately galleries and 
 apartments ; and the mind feels almost instinctively incUned to
 
 Chap. IV FRANCE : STYLE OF LOUIS XIV. 271 
 
 adopt the opposite scale of all the rooms being small, and is justified in 
 so doing, as the architect has himself chosen the meaner instead of the 
 grander scale as the keynote of his design. By repeating the same 
 features over and over again throughout a facade twenty times the 
 length of its height, he has gratuitously used all the resources of his 
 art to make that look mean and insignificant which is in reality grand 
 and mao-nificent. 
 
 Louvre. 
 
 The completion of the Louvre was the next greatest undertaking 
 of the reign of Louis, l»ut carried out under happier auspices than 
 prevailed at Versailles. It seems that Frangois Mansard was first 
 applied to by Colbert, but, refusing to accede to his terms, Bernini 
 was sent for from Eome. His designs have been preserved, but, most 
 fortunately, not executed ; and France may congratulate herself that 
 nothing so horrible was pei-petrated. Had they been earned out, 
 instead of possessing one of the most beautiful, she would have had 
 only one of the most vulgar and least artistic palaces of Europe. Marot 
 and Lemercier also pi-esented designs, which, though certainly less 
 objectionable than Bernini's, only tend to show with how much 
 justice that of Perrault^ was preferred before those of all the other 
 competitors. 
 
 Although brought up as a medical man, Perrault seems to have 
 had an intuitive taste for Art, not only beyond that of his contempo- 
 rary architects, but also beyond the age in which he lived ; for no 
 design of that day can at all compete with the eastern fagade of the 
 Louvre in true appreciation of the exigencies of Classical Art. It is 
 unfortunate, however, in being turned towards the east, where the 
 sun only reaches it in the morning, and where there is not space 
 enough to allow of its being properly seen. It ought to have faced 
 the south, and been the principal fagade towards the river, instead of 
 the very tame and commonplace design which now occupies that 
 position. 
 
 At the present day, when we are so much more familiar with the 
 examples of Classic Art, and with the principles on which they were 
 designed, than any one could be two centuries ago, it is easy to point 
 out defects in the Louvre fagade. The basement is not bold enough 
 for its position ; it ought either to have been rusticated, or the open- 
 ings more deeply recessed. There is nothing in it to suggest the in- 
 tention that a colonnade of so bold a character should stand upon it, 
 and nothing that connects it in any way with the superstructure. Its 
 great defect, how^ever, is that it entirely hides the lower part of the 
 
 » Born 1613 ; died 1688.
 
 272 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 wall at its back. In the upper storey the cohimns are avowedly 
 merely an architectural screen ; the wall behind them is the main 
 wall of the buildino-. In the basement storey the front wall becomes 
 the principal one, and the other seems to run down through the centre 
 
 '•ftj 
 
 i<W 
 
 tt 
 
 "^ 
 
 of the rooms below, in some uncomfortaljle manner, which cannot be 
 guessed at from the outside. This is about as great a mistake as 
 could well be made— one of the first rules of the art being, that what- 
 ever is not seen must be accounted for ; it ought either to be Ix'ought
 
 Chap. IV. 
 
 FRANCE: STYLE OF LOUIS XIV. 
 
 273 
 
 down to the ground, or sonic device shovni by Avhich it can be made to 
 stand. Here the main wall is lost ; perhaps it may be only lath and 
 plaster, and stand on the floor — or it may be supported on a glass 
 case, like a London shop-front— at all events, there is nothing shown 
 which satisfies the mind that the building is truly and honestly con- 
 structed, and the eflFect is unsatisfactoiy in consequence. 
 
 The upper part of the central mass not being recessed is another 
 mistake, which detracts seriously from the beauty of the design, and 
 renders the pediment that surmounts it, if not ridiculous, at least 
 unmeaning and uncalled for ; and the manner in which the circular 
 head of the piincipal portal rises alcove the bases of the columns, cuts 
 up the composition, and throws an air of falsehood over the whole. 
 Instead of introducing masses of masonry behind the central columns. 
 
 Central Compartment, Northern Facade of Louvre. 
 
 they ought to have been doubled — quadrupled — for real architectural 
 eifect, carried almost through the building — in order to justify the 
 colonnades on either flank, which, without some such arrangement, are 
 unmeaning, though beautiful. The design would also have been 
 proljably better, if, instead of coupling the pillars, they had been 
 equally spaced. For this, however, the reason was obvious : it was to 
 free the fronts of the windows, which occur only between the larger 
 openings. One other defect, though it is one the architect was not 
 responsible for, is that the fa§ade is too long for its height, being 
 565 ft. long, and only 95 ft. high to the top of the balustrade. The 
 solid masses at the angles break this to some extent, and a bolder pro- 
 jection or deeper recess in the centre would have done more ; ]jut what 
 really was wanted was some tower-like masses to break the sky-line, 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 and to give that height which is so indispensable for dignity in snch 
 a situation. Its greatest defect, liowever, is that we cannot help feel- 
 ing, in spite of its many beauties, that it is after all only an arclii- 
 tectural screen — a sonietiiing put there, not because it was wanted, or 
 l)ecause it Avas essential to the design of the building, but in order to 
 suggest something that had no reference to the purposes of the 
 Louvre, or of the age in which it was erected ; notwithstanding this, 
 however, it has not been surpassed in modern times, eitlier for elegance 
 or propriety. 
 
 Taking it all in all, jterhaps the north front is the most satisfactory 
 of the three outer facades. It is ^^^iugularly plain, having originally 
 stood in a narrow street, where it could hardly be seen at all, and 
 having practically no ornament but rusticated quoins at the angles, 
 and a happy disposition of the windows and openings throughout. 
 Yet, with these slight and inexpensive adjuncts, it is both pleasing 
 
 J — g r q r 11 ti J- H b a E 2 ]] i'l 
 Id f, B li ir P, R Jl J B 3f t !f ff II 
 " « " " J - 1 5 ? a J ;i J 
 
 I S X 
 
 \ ' I. 
 
 130. Cliateau de Meudon, Garden Front. 
 
 and satisfactory ; and, with a little moi'e oi-nament bestowed on the 
 same parts, it might rival the eastern nearly to the extent to which 
 that surpasses the southern facade. 
 
 Mansard designed and erected the Palace at Meudon very much in 
 the same style as the northern fa9ade of the Louvre. On the front 
 it is only two storeys in height, and is not quite satisfactory ; but on 
 the other side, Avhere the ground falls to such an extent as to allow 
 of four storeys, very considerable dignity is attained ; and, being with- 
 out any pillars or pilasters, it avoids all those shams which so often 
 disfigure the designs of the age. It is impossible to study this build- 
 ing and the northern fa9adc of the Louvre without feeling that this 
 was the true style of the age ; and if the architects had only jjersevered 
 in cultivating it, they might have produced something as beautiful as 
 it was appropriate ; the one great reform wanted being that, instead 
 of carrying rustication on the angles up to the cornice, and rejieat- 
 ing it everywhcix', tlicy shf)ul(l have substituted square piers of equal 
 
 I
 
 Chap. IY. 
 
 FEANCE : STYLE OF LOUIS XIV. 
 
 275 
 
 boldness, and panelled them. This would have relieved their rudeness, 
 which we cannot help feeling is not quite appropriate to palace archi- 
 tecture. The i^rincipal defect in the desio-n is that the cornice at the 
 top belongs to an Order which appears in the upper or two-storeyed 
 fa§ade, and is consequently not of sufficient importance for another of 
 twice its height ; but this unfortunately is one of those consequences it 
 is so difficult to avoid when Orders are employed in modern buildings 
 at all ; and neither the Louvre, nor indeed any French building of 
 this age, is entirely free from what may be considered as an inherent 
 defect in the style. 
 
 The Chateau of Maisons, l)uilt by Frangois Mansard about the year 
 1G58, is one of those happy designs which would seem naturally to 
 
 CliStran de Maisons, neav Paris. 
 
 have linked together the style of Francis I, with that of Louis XIV,, 
 had not the nightmare style of Henry IV. intervened. As it is, it is 
 almost as Classical in its details as the works of his nephew. It com- 
 bines the playfulness of outline which prevailed at an earlier age with 
 a strict adherence to the proprieties of the Orders as then understood. 
 
 The roof is enormous, but relieved by the chimneys, and l)y being 
 broken into masses ; while the whole effect of the design is that it 
 is the house of a nobleman, of singular elegance, neither affecting 
 templar grandeur nor descending into littleness. The great defect of 
 the designs of Versailles and the Louvre is their want of variety, espe- 
 cially in their sky-line, and that is happily avoided here, and in a 
 manner that Avas seldom more successful in this age.
 
 276 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 Hotels. 
 
 There was scarcely any of the great families of France who, during 
 the age of Louis Quatorze, did not rebuild their hotels in the capital, 
 on a scale befitting what was then the proudest aristocracy of Europe, 
 and in a style of magnificence" commensurate with the splendour of the 
 court to w^hich they were attached. 
 
 Many of these hotels have been destroyed, and some converted into 
 Government offices, or applied to meaner puiposes ; but still many 
 remain, and all possess a strongly-marked individuality of character, 
 and a largeness, almost sternness, of design, in strong contrast with the 
 gaiety of their interiors. 
 
 These palatial residences of the nobles of France are far fi'om 
 
 Facade of tbc Hotel Soubise. From Mariette. 
 
 impressing the stranger in Paris with tlie same sense of magnificence 
 iis he receives from those of Italy and other countries. In Florence, 
 Rome, or Venice, the street front is almost invariably the largest, and 
 the most richly decorated of the whole building ; but in almost every 
 case in Paris, there is only, towards the street, a high dead wall, 
 divided into compartments by rusticated piers, with a panel between 
 each, and in the centre a pmie-cochere of more or less magnificence. 
 It is only by entering or looking through this opening that we become 
 aware that a palace is situated within ; and even then, in nine cases 
 out of ten, it is not the entrance front that is either the most beautiful 
 or the most richly adorned, but the one facing the garden, which is an 
 almost indispensable adjunct to a Parisian hotel. 
 
 As a general rule, the Parisian architects of this age use the 
 Orders very sparingly in these hotels — with good taste employing 
 them only in the centres, where a porch or projection of some sort is 
 almost in(lispensal)lc ; and if they go further, the additional pillars or 
 
 I
 
 Chap. IV. 
 
 FRANCE : STYLE OF LOUIS XIV. 
 
 277 
 
 pilasters seem to be suggested by those which were introduced by 
 necessity. 
 
 Among the most elegant of the palaces of this class are the Hotels 
 of Soubise and De Eohan, both built by Lemaire, and very similar, 
 except that the former is two, the latter three, storeys in height. Both 
 are characterised ])y the usual faults and beauties of the style — a 
 sober and elegant employment of the Orders, less frequently as mere 
 ornaments ; and a forced regularity, making carriage-entrances and 
 saloon windows exactly similar in design. 
 
 The Hotel de Noailles, erected from the design of Jean Marot, 
 is another pleasing example of a three-storeyed building of the age, and, 
 though exhibiting no 
 remarkable excellence 
 of design, is sufficiently 
 dignified and palatial- 
 for its pui-poses. Like 
 the Hotel Soubise, it 
 maybe taken as a ty]X3 of 
 a great many buildings 
 of the same class which 
 were erected in Paris 
 about this time. Others, 
 such as that of the 
 Due du Maine, are 
 entirely without pillars, 
 which is perhaps the 
 more usual arrange- 
 ment ; but even here 
 the cornices are all pro- 
 filed, as if the Classical 
 Orders had been in- 
 tended somewhere, and 
 it was thought neces- 
 sary to adhere to their 
 
 proportions. As before remarked, indeed, one of the great deficiencies 
 of this style is that nowdiere was a cornicione introduced with a 
 projection proportioned to the whole height of the building — a feature 
 which gives such dignity to those of the earlier Italian period, and 
 which, in Venice especially, is frequently introduced, even where the 
 whole building is covered with pillars or pilasters proportioned to each 
 individual storey only. 
 
 Another defect, which is very apparent to those who are familiar 
 with Italian or English buildings, is the immense size and frequency of 
 the openings, leaving very little plain wall anywhere ; and as the 
 carpentry of the windows is generally clumsy, and the glass bad, this 
 
 Hotel de NoaiUts. From Marietta.
 
 278 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book HI. 
 
 conveys a certain air of meanness, besides detracting from that repose 
 and solidity which is so essential where anything like dignity is to be 
 attained in Architectural Art. 
 
 This was carried to an extent not found anywhere else, in such 
 buildings as the Trianon at Versailles and the Palais Bourbon in Paris. 
 Both are one-storeyed buildings in all their principal parts, and, with 
 their large openings, are only suited to the peculiar climate and still 
 more peculiar practice of living in public which exist only in France, 
 or where French manners and customs have been copied. 
 
 The great Trianon was built by Louis XIV. for Madame de Main- 
 tenon, from designs by Mansard. The centre is one grand galleiy 
 open on both sides, and, excepting that it has an opaque roof, looks 
 more suited for a conservatory for plants than a royal residence. The 
 wings on either hand, of exactly similar design, contain the living and 
 sleeping apartments of the palace. Though lich in marbles and in 
 decorations of every sort, the sameness throughout produces an un- 
 meaning monotony that nothing can relieve. 
 
 The Palais Bourbon, executed from the designs of Girardini, in 
 1722, is better. There is some variety in the parts, but on the other 
 hand there is a littleness in the details which Ijetrays the commence- 
 ment of the transition wdiich was to connect the grandeur of the style 
 of Louis XIV. with the prettiness of the present day. The dimensions, 
 too, of the Palais Bourbon are small, and, as a town residence, sur- 
 rounded by other buildings, it may almost be termed insignificant, a 
 term which, whatever their other faults may be, can hardly ever be 
 applied to any building erected l)y the Grand Monarque or the nobles 
 of his court. 
 
 It is to Jules Hardouin Mansard that we principally owe an 
 invention Avhich has had a wonderful influence on the architecture of 
 cities since his time. Havitig at Versailles reduced the architecture of 
 a palace to that of a street, he next tried to elevate the architecture of 
 a street to that of a palace. The two most notable examples of this 
 are the Place des Victoires and the Place Vendome at Paris. In both 
 these instances a number of smaller buildings and private houses are 
 grouped together in one design, so as to look externally and at fii-st 
 sight as one great building. The peculiar arrangement of Parisian 
 houses, which have only one entrance for several residences, and that 
 by a large porte-codicre, is peculiarly favourable to this species of de- 
 ception ; but after all it is only a trick, and one which never has been 
 successful. The Place Vendome is one of the best examples of this 
 mode of grouping to be found anywhere, but fortunately it did not 
 find favour in the eyes of the French arcliitccts, and after the age of 
 Louis XIV. has scarcely ever been again attempted in any town of 
 France, but it was so suited to save trouble to an architect, and to the 
 
 1
 
 Chap. IV. 
 
 FRANCE : STYLE OF LOUIS XIV. 
 
 270 
 
 peculiarly small character of our independent residences, that it was 
 considered a great discovery in this country, and almost e\'ery town in 
 England has suffered more or less from its adoption. 
 
 A more successful as well as more legitimate attempt of the same 
 sort was made by Gabriel,^ under the following reign, in the two blocks 
 of buildings which form the Place Louis XV., facing the Place de la 
 Concorde. In making this design, it is evident that Gabriel was 
 attempting to rival the famous colonnade which Perrault added to the 
 Louvre ; and, in fact, he has remedied several of its defects. His base- 
 ment is much better designed, for here the main wall is seen coming 
 down to the ground, while in the Louvre it is impossible to know 
 what becomes of it. The coujjling of the pillars is avoided, and, the 
 whole being divided into two dis- 
 tinct masses, the proportion of height 
 to width is better. On the other 
 hand, there are two storeys of win- 
 dows under the colonnade, and the 
 suspicion of a third above it. The 
 pillars are too tall, the profiles de- 
 ficient in boldness, and the scale 
 is so much smaller, that in these 
 respects it will not stand comparison 
 with the Louvre. The height of the 
 Louvre fa9ade is 95 feet, that of 
 the Place Louis XV. only I'l ; and 
 the latter, being situated at the end 
 
 of one of the largest Places in Europe, should have been designed 
 on a much larger scale in order to have looked of the same size 
 as one j^laced in so confined a space as the Louvre. They are not 
 therefore fair rivals, though the work of Gabriel may fairly be classed 
 as one of the most successful specimens of " terrace " architecture 
 which has yet been executed, but has no real claim to belong to a 
 liigher class. 
 
 The true originality of the Architecture of the age is to be found 
 not so much in the exterior as in the interior of the palaces which 
 were then built. Although, in consefpience of the exterior of their 
 houses being so little seen, the nobles of France hardly cared to spend 
 either much money or piins on theii- designs, it was veiy different 
 with the interiors ; and they vied with one another in the magnificence 
 of their suites of public rooms and the splendour with which they 
 were decorated. In some of the largest halls and vestibules, or in 
 such galleries as those at Versailles, the Orders were introduced— 
 generally Corinthian— with marble shafts and bronze capitals; but 
 
 140. Louis Quaturze Decoratiuu. 
 
 > 13oru 1710 ; died 1782.
 
 280 
 
 HISTOKY OF MODEKN ARCHITECTUEE. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 far more generally, and always in the smaller rooms, the decorations 
 are in the style known as " Louis Quatorze," or Rococo. 
 
 Now that this fashion has passed away, it is impossible not to 
 condemn the style and to regret its introduction. It is unconstructive 
 and neither seems to grow out of any constructive necessity nor to 
 suggest one. The lines and curves are confused, proceeding on no 
 system, and are such as can be produced by an intelligent plasterer as 
 well as by a first-rate artist. No genius could ennoble and no taste 
 
 141. Louis Quatorze style of Decoration. From Versailles. 
 
 refine it. Still it has the great and unique merit of being a style, and 
 the only thing approaching to one that has been invented since the 
 Renaissance. 
 
 It is impossible to enter one of the saloons of this age without 
 feeling that both thought and ingenuity have been applied to it for a 
 definite purpose ; and that unity and harmony have resulted, accom- 
 panied generally by brilliancy and splendour, almost sufficient to claim 
 forgiveness for the bad taste too often displayed. 
 
 I
 
 Chap. IV. FKANCE : STYLE OF LOUIS XIV. 281 
 
 In modern drawing-rooms we often find, for instance, that the 
 plasterwork and chimney-piers may be pure Grecian ; the paper 
 covered with flenrs-de-lys of the most Media3val pattern ; the pier- 
 glasses and console tables, Louis Quatorze ; the cai-pet, nature gone 
 mad ; and the furniture with as much unity of design as may be 
 apparent in a pawnbroker's shop. Anything is better than this ; and 
 it is a great merit in the architects of the age of Louis Quatorze that 
 they did not think their task finished when the last slate was put on 
 the roof, but really applied themselves to what, after all, must be the 
 most important part of a dwelling-house, and designed the arrange- 
 ment and decoration of the living-rooms with more care than they 
 applied to the exterior. In these interiors we find the ceiling and 
 cornice of the same pattern as the walls ; they are carefully divided 
 into panels, and each partition has a pier-glass, or a picture painted 
 for the place, or an opening which fits it ; and the chimney-pieces 
 and all the furniture are parts of the same design. "When this is the 
 case it would be difiicult indeed to go wrong ; and even when we 
 cannot help admitting that they did go wrong, it is still a relief, in 
 the weaiy waste of modern copyism, to find one instance in which the 
 talents of the arcliitects have been exerted so much in this direction, 
 and to feel that, if exerted in the right manner, they certainly would 
 have produced something of elegance and beauty. Had the influence 
 of the age been higher and less frivolous, or had their energies been 
 directed to a nobler pui-pose than the decoration of the salon of a 
 French lady of fashion of the age of Louis Quatorze, the merit of 
 having invented a new style might have been awarded to them, as 
 well as that of being the regenerators of Architectural Art in Europe.
 
 282 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 STYLE OF THE EMPIRE. 
 
 Napoleon, First Consul I8O11 1 Louis Philippe 18:50 
 
 Louis XVIII 1815 Napoleon 111 1818 
 
 Charles X 1821 
 
 The latter half of the eighteenth century was not favonral)le for the 
 production of works of a palatial class. A few public buildings were 
 carried on, such as the Pantheon, the completion of St. Sulpicc, and 
 the building of the Place Louis XV., l)ut national prosperity had 
 received a shock, and the gathering of the temixist which buret with 
 such violence in the last decade of the century had disinclined the 
 public from such permanent investments as building always must be. 
 
 When, with returning prosperity, under the Ein})ire, public works 
 on a large scale again became a necessity, it is curious to observe how 
 completely the style had changed. The pure Classic, of which David 
 was the apostle in Painting and Canova in Sculpture, had also taken 
 possession of Architecture. From the chief of the state to the chiflFo- 
 nier in the street, every one tried to believe, or to encourage the belief, 
 that the Empire of France was the legitimate successor, or a reproduc- 
 tion, of that of Pome ; and all things which were neither real nor 
 essential were made to conform to the delusion. 
 
 One of the most important undertakings of this class in Paris was 
 the remodelling of the Palais Bourbon, to adapt it for the pui-poses of 
 the Coii^s Legislatif. The property had been confiscated during the 
 Revolution, and used for the sittings of the Council of Five Hun- 
 dred, but was now to be adapted for a smaller and less turbulent 
 assembly. The execution of this project was confided to Poyet, who, 
 in 1807, commenced the facade opposite the Place de la Concorde. As 
 it is one of the most correct reproductions which have been executed 
 in modern times of the forms and arrangements of a very beautiful 
 style of Architecture, it can hardly fail to be pleasing ; and is, in fact, 
 one of the most important monuments of the capital. Its great defect 
 is one that it has in common with all reproductions of its class — that 
 it is inappropriate, and does not tell its own story. Were it the fagade 
 of a Museum of Ancient Sculpture, it might be considered as doing so ; 
 but for any other purpose it only appears as a screen to hide some- 
 thing modern and useful, and of which, consequently, its designers
 
 Chap. V. 
 
 FRANCE: STYLE OF THE EMPIRE. 
 
 281 
 
 were ashamed. The five small doore under the portico can hardly be 
 designed to open into a hall the whole height of the screen, and the 
 tAvo windows — one on each side — evidently only belong to the base- 
 ment storey. How, then, is the rest lighted ? — and to what purpose is 
 it applied ? Were it the back of an imperial racqnet-conrt, it would be 
 perfect ; but if intended as anything else, it is a sham. 
 
 As the old pavilion of the Palais Bourbon still stands beside this, 
 it is curious to observe the change that had taken place in design 
 between the two ages to which they belong. As remarked above, the 
 buildings of the age of Louis XIV. generally fail from being too light 
 — being, in fact, all window. Those of the early part of this century. 
 
 View of the Bourse, I'liris. From a Photogriiph. 
 
 or of the Empire, pride themselves on having no windows at all ; and 
 the chief merit of this design and of the Pantheon is to puzzle the 
 spectator as to how daylight is to be admitted. He was considered the 
 greatest architect who contrived to conceal best what really was the 
 most essential part of his design. 
 
 The Bourse, which w^as the next great building in this style, is not 
 entitled to even this modicum of praise ; for there nothing is concealed 
 except the central hall, which, however, is the one thing which ought 
 to be shown. The principal feature in this building is a great rectan- 
 gular hall, GO ft. by 110, with a corridor in two storeys all round it, 
 and lighted from the roof ; and which might easily have been made a 
 principal and appropriate feature in the design, as is the case in
 
 284 HISTOEY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 the Exchange in St. Petersburg, which is in consequence a far more 
 truthful and satisfactory building than this. As it is, the building is 
 merely a rectangular palace. It is 2'di ft. in length by 161 in width, 
 measured over the bases of the columns, and these are each -40 ft. in 
 height. Two of the storeys of windows are shown beneath the colon- 
 nade, the third partly concealed by its balustrade at the top ; but the 
 existence of the attic prevents the roof having any connexion with 
 the peristyle, and, as the proportions of the building approach much 
 more nearly to a square than they ought, the roof is far too heavy 
 and imiwrtant for the rest of the edifice. Notwithstanding all this, a 
 peristyle of sixty-six well proportioned Corintliian columns (twenty on 
 each flank and fourteen on each front, counting the angle pillars both 
 ways) cannot fail to produce a certain effect ; but far more might have 
 been produced by a less expenditure of means ; and a different treat- 
 ment was necessary in a situation like that of the Bourse, which stands 
 in a small square, surrounded by tall houses, where, consequently, 
 height and mass were indispensable. As before remarked, tliis last 
 defect is nearly as apparent in the Madeleine — the other great peri- 
 stylar building of the age. That church, however, is in reality 
 only one great hall, requiring, as may be supposed, no windows at 
 the side ; and, in addition to this, the proportions of length to breadth 
 in the Madeleine are much more pleasing, and the roof is not only a 
 part, but, with its pediment, a most important and beautiful part, of 
 the whole design. 
 
 If, therefore, it is determined that we must copy buildings of this 
 class, the Madeleine may be considered a success, but the Bourse a 
 failure, not only in consequence of the ill-adjusted proportions of its 
 parts, but also because of the utter want of meaning of a peristylar 
 arrangement as applied to such an erection. 
 
 This purely Classical, or, as it is sometimes called, Academic style, 
 took no permanent root in France ; and in all the recent buildings, 
 though more numerous and more expensive than those erected in 
 France in a like time at any period of her history, no attempt has been 
 made to reproduce it. It never did extend to Domestic or Street 
 Architecture. On the contrary, nothing is so creditable to the French 
 architects as the trutlifulness and elegance with which they have ele- 
 vated domestic structures into the domain of Fine Art. It is true 
 the circumstances were extremely favourable to the attempt. The 
 mode of living in apartments one over the other, instead of in houses 
 side by side, as in this country, enabled them to obtain masses of 
 building palatial in scale, and this, with their requiring only one 
 entrance, generally in the centre, were all circumstances very much 
 in their favour. Add to this the facility with which the Paris build- 
 ing-stones can be carved and worked into ornaments of exevj class, 
 together with the number of skilled workmen capable of executing
 
 Chap. V. FBANCE : STYLE OF THE EMPIRE. 285 
 
 any design at a moderate cost, and it will be easily understood what 
 facilities they possessed over the arcliitects of other countries. They 
 have availed themselves, however, of all this to an extent, and with an 
 ability, that the architects of other countries have seldom shown them- 
 selves capable of ; and the consequence is that the Street Architecture 
 of Paris is unsurpassed by anything in Europe. There are, of course, 
 great inequalities of design, as there must be where so much variety 
 exists. In some instances the old disease of pilasters breaks out with 
 an unmeaningness worthy of the age of Henri Quatre ; but as a general 
 rule the dressings of the windows, theii- balconies, and the string 
 courses which mark the floors, are left to tell the story ; and when this 
 is the case it is really impossible to go wi'ong. All that is then required 
 is the application of a certain amount of ornament, necessaiy to elevate 
 the building into an object of Fine Art. When this is done, all that 
 remains open to criticism is the quality of that ornament, and the 
 appropriateness with which it is applied to the various parts of the 
 design. 
 
 It may be scarcely within the scope of the present work to allude 
 to contemporary buildings, or to criticise the works of living archi- 
 tects ; but it is impossible to conclude this chapter without men- 
 tioning some of the gi-eat works which have been erected in France 
 under the Second Empire. 
 
 One of the greatest and most successful of these is the completion 
 of the great group of palaces formed by the junction of the Louvre 
 with the Tuileries. The first attempt at this was made by Henry IV., 
 who commenced the great gallery in his own clumsy style of Architec- 
 ture, and in such a manner as to make the want of parallelism between 
 the two palaces ofPensively apparent. Since his day, the grand crux 
 of French architects has been to get rid of the awkwardness then 
 created ; and there is not one of any eminence during the last two 
 centuries who has not produced a design for effecting this object. 
 
 Nothing, however, has been done except erecting a portion of the 
 north wing in a style corresponding to that of the south, which was 
 commenced during the reign of the First Napoleon, and it was left for 
 the late M. Visconti, under directions from Napoleon III., to set 
 the problem practically at rest. This he has done most successfully, 
 in the manner exhibited in the plan (Woodcut No. 113, ante, p. 243), 
 where all the different stages by which this great group of edifices has 
 been brought to its present state are marked out by the different tints 
 employed, with the dates affixed to each. So ingeniously have the new 
 portions been arranged, that the want of parallelism, pointed out 
 above, is hardly felt. The only prominent defect remaining is the 
 great extent of the Place du Carrousel, and the lowness of the buildings 
 which surround it ; the Place itself being 850 ft. l)y 930, while the
 
 286 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 palace or the galleries are not generally more than GO or 70 ft. high. 
 Nothing conld now remedy this except the erection of some large 
 ])nilding in its centre. If, for instance, a tall triapsal domical church 
 (as dotted in, in the plan, AVoodcnt No. 113) were placed with a porch 
 where the Triumphal Arch now stands, it would not only reduce the 
 whole to harmony, but would give to the group that one feature which 
 is required to give it dignity. At present the buildings hardly rise 
 above the dignity of the streets in their vicinity, and the whole wants 
 some grand central feature to give unity to the group, and to dis- 
 
 143. View of the Angle ol the Place Louis Napoleon, new buildings of Louvre. From a PLotograph. 
 
 tinguish it from the domestic edifices which approach so close to it on 
 the North. Another mode in which this indispensable feature might 
 have been supplied to some extent, would have been by elevating 
 the north-eastern angle, where the new buildings abut on the Rue 
 Eivoli (at A in the plan), so as to -make it a feature, which ought to 
 have been as important as Barry's angle tower to the Parliament 
 Houses. The situation in Paris is far finer, commanding as it does 
 the Avhole of that long line of streets both ways. By a strange over- 
 sight, this angle is now the least dignified portion of the whole design.
 
 Chap. V. FEANCE : STYLE OF THE EMPIRE. 287 
 
 Notwithstanding these defects of conception, the architect deserves all 
 praise for adopting a style which allowed him such freedom, while it 
 harmonized so perfectly Avith what had been done before. The new 
 portions are well joroportioned to the areas in wliich they stand, the 
 Place Louis Napoleon being about GOO ft. by 400, while the average 
 height of the buildings may fairly be taken as 100 ft. The whole 
 design is also so free from the ordinary defects of concealment and 
 shams, that it must be considered as about the best specimen of Pala- 
 tial Architecture of modern times. It is quite true that the details 
 might have been purer without losing any of their effect, that a 
 deeper cornice would have accorded better with the shadow obtained 
 from the arcade below, while the tall wooden roofs that crown the 
 pavilions are scarcely a legitimate mode of gaining height, and liable 
 to become exaggerated and grotesque. But these may all be excused 
 by the necessity of adopting a style in conformity with the parts that 
 existed before, and to which all these features legitimately belong. 
 Even admitting this, however, if we compare the buildings suiTound- 
 ing the Place Louis Napoleon with anything that has been done 
 recently in Italy or Germany, we can have no hesitation in awarding 
 the palm to the French design. If we compare them with any of our 
 own contemporary productions, such as the Houses of Parliament or 
 the British Museum, we see how happily it takes a medium course 
 between the frigid Classicality of the one and the florid Medievalism 
 of the other ; while it is in every respect suited to the wants of the 
 age, and expressive of its feelings, to which neither of the other 
 examples can make any pretension. 
 
 The changes that have been made in the building of the Tuileries 
 since Visconti's death are by no means equal in merit to those earned 
 out under his superintendence. One of the most prominent of these 
 is the rebuilding of the Pavilion Flore at the end of the Pont Royal. 
 Its design is certainly a great improvement on that of the Henry lY. 
 building it replaced ; but it wants the vigour and appropriateness 
 which characterises the design of the Place Louis Napoleon. The 
 greatest blunder, however, which has been committed consists in 
 neglecting to seize the opportunity afforded by the rebuilding of digni- 
 fying the river fa§ade with a centre-piece wortliy of its situation. 
 
 In the centre, opposite the Pont du Carrousel, is the principal 
 entrance to the palace, consisting of three great archways and two 
 side arches, all so bold and bridge-like as not only to suggest but to 
 challenge some corresponding features over them. So far, hoA\'e\'er, 
 from this being the case, this part of the fagade is the lowest and 
 meanest part of the whole design. Had it been carried up to at least 
 twice its present height, it would have gone far to redeem this front 
 from the monotony and w^ant of dignity which at present characterise 
 it. A fayade 900 ft. in length, and of nearly uniform height throughout.
 
 288 HISTOEY OF MODEKN AECHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 and with no breaks, must look low and tame, especially when situated 
 on a broad quay and with a wide river in front of it. But with a 
 pavilion as dignified as that of Flore at either end, and a centre of 
 greater height and dignity than either, the whole would have been 
 reduced to harmony, and it would have certainly been — what it is 
 now nearly — the finest palace front in Europe. 
 
 These and other faults in recent erections make us dread what 
 may be designed to replace the old picturesque garden-fa§ade of the 
 Palace when it comes to be rebuilt. The north and south fronts will 
 be restored, as nearly as may be, as they were before the fire, with, 
 perhaps, some modifications in the Pavilion Henri IV. to assimilate 
 it with that of Flore, as recently rebuilt ; bat the stonework of the 
 central part has been so damaged that it seems ine\'itable the whole 
 should be removed, and when this is done the question comes, 
 what is to replace it ? To restore the whole fa9ade as it was would be 
 pedantic and absurd, and such an extent of building can hardly now 
 be expected to be wanted for a royal residence. But accommodation 
 might be obtained for some of the great departments of the State, 
 with a suite of reception-rooms and an official residence for the 
 President or head of the State. With the variety such a destina- 
 tion would afford and the dignity of such a purpose, it may be re- 
 erected in a form Avorthy of what is really the finest site in Europe ; 
 but, looking at what has recently been done there and in Paris gene- 
 rally, one cannot but tremble for the result.^ 
 
 One of the most successful efforts of the same class as the com- 
 pletion of the Tuileries was the amplification of the Hotel de Villc, by 
 Le Sueur. Here the difficulty was nearly as great, inasmuch as it 
 was necessary to amalgamate the whole fagade of Francis I., in the 
 centre of the principal front, with the new buildings which were to 
 enclose and surround it on all other sides. The problem was, to give 
 the new buildings sufficient importance, without dwarfing to any 
 extent the old. 
 
 This was most successfully accomplished, but it is perhaps owing 
 to this that the building as a whole wanted that commanding height 
 which its situation required, and which prevented its having that 
 dignity, when seen at a little distance, which it possessed when seen 
 from a nearer point of view. Like the new buildings of the Louvre, 
 it was free from any sham or concealment, and its internal arrange- 
 ments — especially the Great Gallery — Avere as fine as anytliing of 
 
 * If the Archbishop had the power, the , consists in the fact that tlie unwaslied 
 centre of this facade -would form a far Communists of Belleville must submit, 
 finer position for his new Cathedral, than though the well-dressed infidels of the 
 the heiglits of Montmartre, where he i aristocratic quarter might resist tlie 
 intends to place it. The difficulty of I obtrusion among tliem of such a sjMubol 
 making the change, however, probably of the Church's pre-eminence.
 
 Chap. V. 
 
 FRANCE: STYLE OF THE EMPIRE. 
 
 289 
 
 their class in Europe. The Gallery of the Hotel de Ville, thouf^^h not 
 so large or so rich, was far more artistic than anything of the sort 
 that is to be found at Versailles. 
 
 The Library of Ste. Genevieve is another of the new edifices of 
 Paris well deserving of study, 
 being wholly astylar, and, 
 without pretending to be 
 anything beyond a modern 
 depository of books, it gives 
 a promise of common sense 
 being once more thought 
 compatible with Architec- 
 tural Art. When it is once 
 discovered that a building 
 can be made sufficiently 
 ornamental without assum- 
 ing a foreign disguise-, the 
 art will again be in the path 
 of progress ; and this truth 
 seems dawning on the 
 French architects, though 
 whether to brighten into 
 sunshine or not remains to 
 be seen. 
 
 This Library is a paral- 
 lelogram of 2G3 ft. by 75, 
 with a projection for the 
 staircase behind, and the 
 height from the ground-line 
 to the top of the cornice is 
 GO ft. The one defect of 
 the design is its flatness. 
 Had there been a projection 
 in the centre, or at either end 
 of the fa9ade, it would have 
 remedied this defect and 
 supplied the shadow, to ob- 
 tain which so many architects have been driven to employ porticoes 
 and other incongruous details to their buildings. 
 
 The impulse given to building operations by the system adopted 
 by the late Emperor of giving employment to the people, has kul to 
 the erection of an immense number of civil and municipal edifices 
 in the provinces, as well as in Paris. 8ome of them ai'e not perhaps 
 in the best taste ; many betray marks of exti'eme haste in preparing 
 the designs, and a few of a lingering towards the Classical feeliug of 
 VOL. I. u 
 
 144. Angle of the IJbrar^' of Ste. Genevieve, Paris.
 
 290 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 an earlier epoch. One of the most remarkable of the last class is the 
 new Exchange just completed at Marseilles, which, notwithstanding 
 the elegance of its details, is one of the least satisfactory buildings 
 of the Empire. That recently completed at Lyons erre in the opposite 
 direction, some of its details verging on the Rococo ; but, taking it 
 altogether, it may be considered as one of the mast typical examples 
 to be found anywhere of what the French architects are aiming at 
 and most admire. It is not very pure or very ele\-ated, it must be 
 
 New Bourse, Lyons. From a riiotograph. 
 
 confessed ; but it may fairly be asked — is a purer or more elevated 
 style compatible with the purposes of a Chamber of Commerce and an 
 Exchange ? A church, a palace, or a tomb requires it ; but is not 
 tliis style as dignified as the purposes to which it is applied ? and truth 
 in Art demands no more than this. 
 
 The new Custom-house at Rouen is anothei- favourable specimen 
 of the mode in which the French architects of the present day design 
 the minor class of public edifices. Neither the dimensions nor tiie 
 purposes of such a building admitted of very great grandeur or
 
 Chap. V. 
 
 FRANCE : STYLE OF THE EMPIRE. 
 
 291 
 
 richness being obtained. It is, however, sufficiently mao'nificent for the 
 custom-house of a provincial city, and it expresses its purpose with 
 clearness, while no useful element is sacrificed for the sake of effect, 
 and no ornament added which in any way interferes with utilitarian 
 purposes. 
 
 The ordinary receipt for such a design, especially in this country, 
 would have been a portico of four or six pillars, darkening some 
 and obstiTicting the light of other windows, besides necessitating the 
 building being— in appearance at least — only two storeys in height. 
 It is an immense gain when architects can be induced to apply the 
 amount of thought that is found here ; and with a little more care in 
 
 Custom-house, Rouen. 
 
 the details, and a little more variety in the arrangement of the parts, 
 this might have become a more beautiful design than it is, though 
 few of its class can, on the whole, be called more satisfactoi'y. 
 
 In several other of the new buildings of Paris and in the pro^•inces 
 there is shown a great tendency to get rid of the Orders, and, as in 
 these instances, to depend upon the structural arrangement for ex- 
 pression. The worst feature of the case is, that the architects do not 
 seem to have hit on any definite system of ornamentation, and con- 
 sequently, in attempting to be original, they sometimes fall into 
 mistakes as offensive as the stereotyped absurdities of their prede- 
 cessors. They are, however, in the right path, and, we may hope, will 
 be ultimately successful in producing a style suited to the wants of 
 the age. 
 
 u 2
 
 292 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 Book III. 
 
 Domestic Architecture. 
 
 It is perhaps, howe^'e^, in their Domestic Architecture that the 
 French arcliitects have achieved the greatest success, and with 
 the largest amount of originality. The modern Parisian houses 
 cannot, of course, vie with the hotels of the older nobility in dignity 
 or grandeur ; but it is just because they do not attempt this that they 
 succeed. They pretend to nothing but being the residences of a rich 
 and luxurious community, and every house on its face beare marks 
 
 of what it is, and of 
 the rank or position 
 of its occupiers. Even 
 when they use the 
 Orders with the most 
 lavish hand, they do it 
 with originality ; and 
 if it is objected that 
 pillars are not wanted, 
 they are not out of 
 place, and do not pre- 
 tend to make the build- 
 ing or its storeys look 
 other than it really is. 
 The example (Woodcut 
 No. 1-47) from the 
 neighbourhood of St. 
 Genevieve is only an 
 average specimen ; but 
 out of Venice it would 
 bj difficult to find any- 
 thing so rich and, at 
 the same time, so devoid 
 of affectation. Like 
 most of the Parisian 
 designs, a great part 
 of its effect is due to 
 the grouping of the windows. As is frequently the case in Venice, 
 the centre has three or five windows placed tolerably close to one 
 another, then a pier and a single window, with a similar pier beyond. 
 In the fa5ade of a dwelling-house this is perhaps the happiest 
 arrangement that has been hit upon, as it not only gives constructive 
 solidity to the design, but suggests an internal arrangement of con- 
 siderable dignity of effect. 
 
 If it be objected that the " Orders " are overdone in this example, 
 it is easy to select another (Woodcut No. 148) in which they are only, 
 
 Uuuse, Rue Soufflot. Le Sueur, architect. 
 
 I
 
 Chap. V. 
 
 FRANCE: STYLE OF THE EMPIRE. 
 
 293 
 
 as it were, suggested, but where the same principles of arrangement 
 are carried out, and with as pleasing an effect. Or a third (Woodcut 
 No. 149) 1 may be taken, where the Orders do not exist at all ; and, 
 though less rich in consequence, the design is scarcely less elegant. 
 It by no means follows that, because the Orders are the only ready- 
 made means of enriching a design at the present day, they are always 
 to remain so. There are numberless other devices by which this may 
 be effected, though, it is true, their employment requires not only 
 taste but thought ; 
 and the great merit 
 of Parisian Archi- 
 tecture is, that these 
 qualities are found 
 there more fre- 
 quently than in any 
 other city of modern 
 Europe. The great 
 charm, however, is 
 that in Paris there 
 are not three or four 
 such designs as those 
 quoted above, but 
 three or four hun- 
 dred — many, it must 
 be confessed, of very 
 questionable taste, 
 and where the orna- 
 ments are neither 
 elegant in them- 
 selves nor properly 
 applied ; but these 
 are certainly the ex- 
 ceptions, and even 
 they tend to pro- 
 duce a variety and 
 
 richness of effect in the new Boulevards and streets, which renders 
 Paris the richest and most picturesque - looking city of modern 
 Europe. It is the only town, in fact, that affords an answer to the 
 reproach of the Mediae valists, who, when they single out the dull 
 monotony of Regent's Park Terraces or Edinburgh Rows, need only 
 turn to the new quarters recently erected in Paris to see that the 
 dulness of which they complain is not in the style but in the archi- 
 tects, and that it must be as easy for us, if we had the wit to do so. 
 
 Eue des Saussaies. Architect, Le Jeune. 
 
 These three Woodcuts are tukeu from Oalliut's ' Parallele des Muisons de Paris.'
 
 294 
 
 HISTOKY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 to make our towns as picturesque, and far more beautiful than they 
 
 were Avhen filled with the rude and inconvenient dwellings of our 
 
 forefathers. 
 
 The best period of this peculiar style of Domestic Architecture was 
 
 the latter part of the reign 
 of Louis Philipixj, or the firet 
 two or three yeai*s of the 
 .Second Enijtire. Since that 
 time, taste in these matters 
 has declined with wonderful 
 rapidity in Paris. It may 
 ha that the demand for de- 
 signs has been so great that 
 the architects have not the 
 time requisite for thought ; 
 or it may be that the excite- 
 ment of sudden prosj)erity, 
 and, consequently, an all- 
 }X)rvading jxirreiudion, has 
 lowered the standard of taste 
 generally. From whatever 
 cause it may arise, the fact 
 is certain that the profiles of 
 many of the new buildings 
 are bad and weak, that the 
 details are confused and ill 
 drawn, and that pilastere are 
 frequently employed to cover 
 a certain surface with orna- 
 mentation without the ne- 
 cessity of thought. All this 
 is very sad ; for if a jjcople 
 so essentially artistic as the 
 French are, and always have 
 
 bean, go astray, the prospect of architectural improvement in modern 
 
 Europe is poor indeed. 
 
 Trophies axd Tombs. 
 
 AYhatever opinion we may be inclined to form regarding the 
 Ecclesiastical or Domestic Architecture of the French, it is certain 
 that they have exceeded all other nations of Europe in that lU'e-emi- 
 nently Celtic form of Art which ex^jresses itself in the erection of 
 Trophies to commemorate the glories of the nation and of :Monuments 
 to record the memories of their dead. 
 
 It is of course in vain to cxiioct. during a Renaissance ix-riod, wlien 
 
 ippf^ini^ 
 
 119. Uouse, Tvue Kavaim. A. Luiiif, architect.
 
 Chap. V, 
 
 FRANCE: STYLE OF THE EMPIllE. 
 
 295 
 
 everything must he based on precedent, that the French architects 
 should do anything very original in this line. All their Trophies 
 must be either Columns or Arches, not l)ecause these were eitlier tlie 
 l»est forms originally, or because they arc the most appropriate now, 
 l)ut because they were the 
 only ones used by the Ro- 
 mans. It is in vain to sug- 
 gest that a Hall or a Tower 
 might ])e made (piite as monu- 
 mental and far more conve- 
 nient for the purpose ; but 
 there is no authority for this 
 — and there the argument 
 stops. 
 
 It must, however, be 
 admitted that the French 
 architects liave occasionally 
 made great efforts to rid 
 themselves from this thral- 
 dom, and, except during the 
 Fii-st Empire, with very toler- 
 able success. 
 
 The Colonnu de la Grande 
 Armcw' at Boulogne is merely 
 a Brobdingnagiau Doric 
 Column gone astray, and 
 settled on a plain with which 
 it has no apparent connexion. 
 Its counterpart in the Place 
 Vendome at Paris is better, 
 and tells its tale most un- 
 mistakably, but, in doing so, 
 falls into an error which 
 borders on the ludicrous. Its 
 aim is to be an exact copy 
 of Trajan's Column at Rome, 
 and, with great good sense, 
 the architect has avoided the 
 absurdity of putting the 
 
 French army into the costume of that of Trajan. He has replaced 
 the monumental helmets, shields, and breastplates of the Roman 
 soldiers with the coats, cocked hats, and boots and shoes of modern 
 costume ; and the picturesque implements of ancient warfare with the 
 drums, muskets, and cannon of the present day. All this was wise 
 and well, and only becomes absurd when placed on a Roman monu- 
 
 150. Colonne de Jnillet, on the site of the Bastille.
 
 296 HISTORY OP MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 ment, and in the exact position in which the counterparts are found 
 at Rome, so as everywhere to challenge comparison and provoke a 
 smile. 
 
 If, when it was determined that modern costume should be repre- 
 sented, the architect had had the courage to adopt a polygonal base, a 
 circular capital, and to suppress one or two of the more prominent 
 Classical details, he might easily have retained the cylinder round 
 which the French army climb to invisibility. He might, at the same 
 time, have retained a sufficient amount of Classical detail to have 
 suggested Rome, without bringing into such painful contrast the artistic 
 treatment even of costume in anciei't times as compared with the 
 devices of the modern tailor. 
 
 Almost all these faults have been avoided in the Colonne de Juillet, 
 which stands on the site of the Bastille. Of modern columnar 
 monuments this is certainly the most successful. It is elegant and 
 Classical in its details, and reasonably appropriate to its pui-pose. Its 
 defects are, that, being only 165 ft. in height, it is scarcely sufficiently 
 large for the very extensive Place, the centre of which it occupies ; 
 and the abacus of the capital ought certainly to have bsen circular. 
 The angular forms of the Corinthian capital inevitably suggest an 
 entablature ; and of all things such a suggestion is the last wanted 
 here. Notwithstanding these minor defects, it is certainly a great 
 step in the right direction, and, if persevered in, we may yet see a 
 monumental column worthy of its purpose. 
 
 On the whole, the French have been more fortunate with their 
 Triumphal Arches than with their Columns. Of course there are 
 some — such as the Arch of the Tuileries, the Ai'ch at Marseilles, and 
 that built by them at Milan — which, like the Imperial Columns, are 
 copies and caricatures of the Roman examples, rendered ridiculous and 
 incongruous, either by modern personages being put into Classical 
 costumes, or modern dresses being associated with ancient forms. As 
 far back, however, as the age of Louis Quatorze they attempted to 
 escape from this absurdity. The two great specimens of the age— 
 the Porte St. Denis, erected in 1G72, by Bloudel, and the Porte St. 
 Martin, in 1074, by Bullant — are quite free from the reproach of being 
 copies of Classical examples. As they originally stood, they must have 
 been dignified and imposing erections ; but since that time they have 
 been so surrounded by houses taller than themselves, that they look 
 painfully insignificant. 
 
 The first-named is by far the best and most original design of the 
 two. Its fa9ade is nearly square— 75 ft. each way— and the footways 
 are kept so entirely subordinate, that the centre arch has all the 
 dignity required, and there is no mistake as to its purpose. Ai'chi- 
 tecturally, its worst defect is its want of depth, which gives it a 
 weakness of appearance highly detrimental to its monumental character ;
 
 Chap. V. 
 
 FRANCE : STYLE OF THE EMPIRE. 
 
 297 
 
 and the sculpture borders so nearly on the Rococo of the age as to 
 detract considerably from its, effect. Still, it is a very original and 
 a very grand design, and worthy of being imitated, as it was in 
 the Arc de I'Etoile. 
 
 So far from being considered a defect, it is a merit in M. Chalgrin, to 
 whom the design for the Arc de I'Etoile was intrusted, that he knew how 
 to profit by what had been done by his predecessor, and, by improving 
 on his design, to produce the noblest example of a Triumphal Archway 
 in modern Europe. The dimensions of this arch are unsurpassed by 
 any monument of its class in ancient or modern times, being 150 ft. 
 wide, 75 ft. deep, and 158 in height to the top of the acroteria. It is 
 
 Porte St. Ueiiis. From a Photograph. 
 
 pierced with only one great arch in the centre, 97 ft. high by half 
 that width, and one transverse arch at right angles with the principal 
 one. The very simplicity of its design, however, robs it of its apparent 
 dimensions to an extent not easily conceived. As mentioned in a 
 previous volume, its size is as nearly as may be the same as that of 
 the front of Notre Dame at Paris, exclusive of the towers ; it does 
 not look half so large, and there is no doubt but that if pillars had 
 been employed they would have added very considerably to its apparent 
 dimensions, but to what extent they would have detracted from its 
 monumental character is not so easily predicated. It is probable, 
 however, by panelling and projections properly applied, without 
 interfering with the structural arrangements, all the size the Romans
 
 298 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 knew how to give to their small arches might have been attained 
 without the tawdriness that over-ornamentation imparted to them. 
 The colossal character of the principal groups of sculpture detracts 
 also considerably from the size of the monument, and prevents the eye 
 obtaining any scale by which to measure it. Another defect is that, 
 while all the greater groups are Classical in their costume, or rather 
 want of it, the smaller groups on the friezes are in modern dresses, 
 and the effect of the mixture is most disagreeable. But, notwith- 
 standing these defects, both for conception, and for purity and 
 
 iipg.^ * 
 
 
 Elevatiou of the Arc de I'Jitoile. From ' Les ^lonumens Publics de la France." 
 
 grandeur of design, it stands alone among the Triumphal Arches of 
 modern Europe ; and, being also most fortunate in its situation, it is 
 one of the finest monuments and greatest ornaments of the city of 
 Paris.i 
 
 There is another, though only a quasi-triumphal arch, erected in 
 front of the Ecole Polytechnique, which, though infinitely smaller in 
 scale — being only about 40 ft. in height to the top of the acroterium — 
 
 ' The cost oi' this monument, which is still incomplete, has kfcu 417,812;.
 
 Chap. V. 
 
 FKANCE : STYLE OF THE EMPIRE. 
 
 299 
 
 is designed on the same principle, and so elegantly, that it well deserves 
 notice. It could not, of course, be increased in size without a multi- 
 plication of its present details ; but it is just one of those examples in 
 which the French architects are so peculiarly successful in combining 
 elegance with appropriateness, and, stepping out of the beaten path 
 of the Orders, they seem occasionally on the point of inventing a new 
 style, or perfecting that they have ; but using the " Orders " saves so 
 much trouble that they almost invariably lapse back to their more 
 commonijlace designs. 
 
 It is impossible to go into any of the cemeteries, even of the remote 
 districts of France, without being struck with the superiority of taste 
 
 153. Entrance to the Ecole Polytecbuique. From ' Le Paris Modeme,' de Normand fils. 
 
 displayed in monumental sculpture and arrangement as compared with 
 what is found in other less Celtic countries. In Italy there does not 
 exist a respectable architectural monument from north to south. ^ What 
 examples they do possess of this class are inside their churches, and 
 more properly belong to the domain of sculpture than to that of Archi- 
 tecture, and, though some of them are very beautiful, it is not to this 
 art that they owe their effect. In Germany, as might be expected, 
 there is nothing worthy of the name, and as for our English attempts, 
 the less said of them the better. 
 
 In the French cemeteries, on the contrary, the monuments are 
 
 ' Those of Verona are an apparent exceptiuu, but it is by no means clear who the 
 Sciiligers were fir wlicnee they came.
 
 300 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 always sepulchral, and generally appropriate to the cii'cumstances of 
 the persons whose memory they are designed to perpetuate. It is 
 true that, till within the last few years, they have been frequently 
 disfigured by an excess of Classicality and by an affectation of Pagan 
 symbolism ; but these were the defects of the feelings of the age, and 
 not peculiar to this class of objects ; while every day their designs 
 are improving, and there is more appearance of progress in them than 
 in almost any other class of subject. Their greatest defect, as purely 
 architectural objects, is their want of size, few, indeed, being of such 
 dimensions as to bring them out of the class of objets (Tart into that of 
 real structural Art, and some of the best opportunities have recently been 
 thrown away in a manner much to be regretted. The little Cha])elle 
 Expiatoire, erected where the Due d'Orleans was killed, is a substitu- 
 tion of a toy church for what should have been a dignified monument. 
 Placing the remains of the Great Napoleon in the ciypt of the Inva- 
 lides was about as great a mistake as could be committed — architec- 
 turally — although everything that has been done there is in good taste, 
 and many of the details worthy of all admiration.^ It is still only a 
 crypt, a small, and, from its position, an insignificant and undignified 
 part of the building in which it is situated. It is an opportunity 
 thrown away which only the French could have availed themselves 
 of ; and, for the sake of Monumental Art in Europe, it is to be hoped 
 they will soon find some subject worthy of their peculiar talent in 
 this department of Art. 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 After what has been said above, there is no great difficulty in insti- 
 tuting a comparison between the Renaissance styles of Italy and of 
 France. To the former country belongs all the merit of the inven- 
 tion, everything there having preceded a corresponding development 
 in France by at least half a century. To the Italians belongs exclu- 
 sively the merit of inventing that class of domical churches of which 
 St. Peter's at Rome- is the typical example. At the present day a juiy 
 of architects might decide that there is small merit in the invention, 
 but they ought to recollect that it has stood the test of more than 
 three centuries. For all that time all the countries of Europe agreed 
 that it was the most beautiful and the most appropriate form for 
 their pui-poses, and we must not feel too sure that our present Gothic 
 mania, which has hardly stood the test of thirty years, is not a mere 
 passing fashion, and that another thirty years may not cause it to be 
 regarded in the same ridiculous light as many other fashionable things 
 
 > This tomb is said to have cost already 3G0,000/. ; a sum sufficieut to have erected 
 a uoblc mauBoleum.
 
 Chap. V. FRANCE : CONCLUSION. 301 
 
 which have been as enthusiastically admired in their day. The 
 probability is that something which is neither a domical Italian church 
 nor a many-aisled Gothic cathedral is the thing suited to our wants ; 
 but, in the meanwhile, it is some credit to the Italians that they 
 proposed a form which met with universal acceptance over the whole 
 Christian world, and that for three hundred years nothing better was 
 suggested anywhere. 
 
 The French did little or nothing to improve the form they l)or- 
 rowed from their southern neighbours, although using it with various 
 local peculiarities, until at least the end of the last century. At this 
 time the introduction of better understood Classical details made Ste. 
 Genevieve — internally — a model which, if followed out consistently, 
 might have led to an improved state of things ; but externally it is 
 inferior to many churches, not only in Italy but in France, and on the 
 whole it cannot be said that the French have suipassed the Italians \is 
 church-builders, except in the more correct appreciation of Classical 
 details in some of their more recent productions. 
 
 As regards Civil Architecture the French have invented nothing so 
 original or so grand as the early palaces of Florence or Rome ; and though 
 they have recently adopted a style as rich and as ornate as that of 
 Venice, it is only after long years of neglect that they have learnt to 
 appreciate the beauties of that mode of treating domestic buildings. 
 
 Elegant and meritorious as the early French Renaissance is, it 
 sprang unfortunately not from the grand feudal fortresses of the nobles, 
 but from the extreme refinements which had been introduced by 
 luxurious monks into their convents, or wealthy bankers into their 
 civil dwellings. The Roman and the Florentine buildings, on the 
 contrary, were the lineal descendants — the counteiparts, in fact — of 
 the feudal residences of the nobles in those turbulent cities when 
 defence was as necessary in the streets as it was to the French baron 
 on his seignorial estate. 
 
 When the French advanced beyond the earliest stage of the Renais- 
 sance they found themselves without any leading principles to guide 
 them. They had not around them the mass of Classic details which 
 steadied and guided the Italian architects of the sixteenth century ; 
 and the consequence was, that when they wished for something 
 grander or more original than the style of Francis I., they attempted 
 to graft the picturesqueness of the Gothic on the purity of the Classic 
 styles, and produced the strange combinations of the age of Heiuy IV. 
 From that time, with the increasing knowledge of Classic Art and 
 greater experience in using it, the style of the French has gradually 
 improved — with occasional backslidings — to the present day. The 
 fate of Italian Art was different. So soon as they became satiated 
 with the cold purity of that of the sixteenth century, they fell into 
 the fantastic absurdities of the Borromini and Guarini school, and
 
 302 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 since then have had neither greatness nor aspirations sufficiently 
 definite to rescue them from the depths into which they then sank. 
 
 If we compare the Palais Royal with the Piazza of St. Mark 
 (excluding of course the church), we shall obtain a fair means of judg- 
 ing of the two styles in the medium age and average degree of merit, 
 and probably no one will hesitate to award the palm to the Italian 
 exampL'. 
 
 The library of the Piazetta is, in like manner, a more palatial and 
 more beautiful design than anything at Yereailles or in any of the 
 palaces of LouLs XIV., while the Basilica of Yicenza will stand com- 
 parison with even the facade of the Louvre, and these are among the 
 best and most typical examples of each of the styles. The great 
 difference between the t\\'o seems to be, that Italian Architecture rose 
 in glory to set early in frivolity and decay ; the French style, on the 
 contrary, rose in uncertainty, and was for a while obscured by caprice, 
 but gi-adually was settling to what we should have said a few yeare 
 ago promised to be the harbinger of a new style and a guiding star to 
 the other nations of Europe. Recent performances have done much 
 to shake this faith in their future, but it caimot be denied that, so far 
 as Civil or Domestic Architecture is concerned, the French are, even 
 at this moment, considerably in advance of the other nations of 
 Eui'ope. 
 
 In Ecclesiastical Art they are rapidly preparing to follow in our 
 downward path, to forswear all thought or originality of design, and 
 be content with mere reproductions of the past. This, however, can 
 hardly last long with them, for they have more taste and more innate 
 feeling for Architecture than any other nation of Europe at the 
 present day. If they fail to emancipate the art from the trammels of 
 copyism, the prospect is indeed dark, and we must be content to 
 cherish more and more the relics of the past, for the future would 
 then afford no hope that we shall ever again see a truthful object of 
 Architectural Art on which the mind can dwell with the same satis- 
 faction which it feels in contemplating the ruder works of even the 
 most uncultivated nations.
 
 Chap. VI. FRANCE : RECENT ARCHITECTURE. 303 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 RECENT ARCHITECTURE IN FRANCE. 
 
 ['I'he point at which onr author conchides his ohservatioiis on tlie 
 Architecture of the French is practically the middle of the rcig'n of the 
 Emperor Napoleon III. ; and the somewhat unfavourable impression 
 which he desires to leave upon the mind of the reader seems to 
 accord with the view which at that time he would naturally take of 
 the state of French society. We have to observe, however, at any rate, 
 that the inauguration of the Second Empire, as matter of the history 
 of Architecture, coincides with the commencement of that all-important 
 movement which is identified with the era of the Great International 
 Exhibitions, and the consequent advancement of the Industrial Arts at 
 large at the expense of academical exclusiveness. No doubt there were 
 certain branches of Art in which France, like England, instantly ex- 
 perienced the beneficial effects of the new departure ; but the artistic 
 conditions of the two countries had no such correspondence as would 
 cause them to go hand in hand in architecture ; and each took her own 
 line. England was far behind France. England entered upon a new- 
 career ; and this has now led her to the cultivation for the moment of a 
 style of hric-a-hrac ; France, on the other hand, simply carried forward 
 her established system to a further development of its own standard 
 graces. In England we have now taken to Flemish Rococo ; France 
 continues wholly French. The English cities have passed through a 
 course of counterfeit Gothic ; the French cities have never thought of 
 anything of the sort. We know not what we shall be next, when no 
 longer Flemish ; France knows perfectly well that she Mill remain 
 French. Whatever a shrcAvd analytical enthusiast like our author may 
 say of the unreality or non-vitality of modern European architecture, 
 there is this one exception, if only to prove the rule : the style of Paris 
 in our day, wiiether the reader approves it or not, is the living perfec- 
 tion for the time being of the Modern European mode. So far as it 
 may be deemed by some to be monotonous, enfeebled, mercurial, 
 effeminate, meretricious, or whatever the opprobrious epithet may be, 
 so far it is still the embodiment of the French mind in the modern 
 world, in which France is still, as she has so long been, the undisputed 
 leader in artistic practice. When she comes to be superseded — perhai)S 
 she is alreadv rivalled — it mav be by England or the English race ; but
 
 304 HISTOKY OF MODEKN AECHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 the time is not yet, and especially in respect of the architecture of her 
 
 towis. 
 
 The particular character which French Renaissance has assumed in 
 recent times seems to he especially interesting. Tlie Neo-Grec is not 
 Greek, l:)ut French. If we apply the term " revival " in the customary 
 way, it may perhaps be said that the Italians revived the Roman, and 
 the Germans the Greek, as the English did the Gothic ; but that the 
 French, accepting both Roman and Greek, created the Neo-Grec. The 
 Germans, no doubt, have since borrowed it from the French ; but they 
 cannot give it a spirit of their own ; and the English cannot deal with 
 it at all. In fact, it may probably be said with eveiy confidence that 
 the French are the only nation in Europe who in architecture do not 
 revive and do not borrow ; in their own style of language they might 
 coiTectly say they only derive inspiration. There are comparatively few 
 buildings in France of which it can be said that they are copied literally 
 from the books, like so many of the best buildings in England and else- 
 where. The French artist is always self-assertive ; even when he is the 
 direct representative of his academical mode, or is expressly imitating 
 a foreign mannerism, he must always finesse with what he accepts or 
 what he copies or adopts. This seems to be so characteristic of all that 
 is done that we are accustomed to say anybody can identify French work 
 anywhere ; whatever may be its style by name, it is always French by 
 nature ; even if the substance be exotic, the surface is native. Hence 
 it is that to the Art world of Paris there is no Art to speak of out of 
 Paris. To the ty]iical Parisian, indeed, the availal)le universe itself 
 scarcely extends more than a league or two beyond the walls ; the reason 
 is that Paris is for him so all-sufficient that the rest is suii)lusage. In 
 the subject of Architecture this is most notal)ly the case : the Neo-Grec 
 is all-sufficient for use, and anything else is for amusement ; the Neo- 
 Grec is permanent, and anything else is transitory ; the Neo-Grec 
 improves from day to day, and anything else fails and is forgotten. 
 
 The essence of the Neo-Grec is finesse. The same finesse, so far as 
 it could go in a primitive world, was the essence of the Hellenic 
 antique. The French mouldings, modellings, decorative embellish- 
 ments, and conventional motives at large, are all derived from — inspired 
 by — the old Greek ; for the simple reason that the Roman, and its 
 outcome the Italian Renaissance, were deficient in finesse. . How the 
 old Roman degenerated from the Greek refinement, we well know ; two 
 thousand years have passed, and the modern Frank regenerates the 
 sime refinement, rehabilitating the crude new Roman with the old 
 Greek delicacy, revivifying the corpus of the Italian with the animus of 
 the Hellene. 
 
 The policy of the Second Empire in respect of architectm-al under- 
 takings seems to have been directed by two motives, both equally 
 legitimate when examined. It was desirable, those people tell us who 
 
 I
 
 Chap. VI. FRANCE : KECENT ARCHITECTURE. 305 
 
 ought to know, to provide remunerative labour for tlie artisan classes — 
 which in a great degree i^ractically means much the same thing as 
 to encourage building ; and it was also good philosophy to promote 
 the embellishment of the principal towns, as central points of ])0])ular 
 culture and national i-)atriotism. The Emperor and his advisers therefore 
 determined to remodel Paris ; and there are very fe^\• indeed who are 
 not of opinion that they succeeded in effecting an excellent in^'estment 
 of the capital of the community in improving the Metropolis as they 
 eventuaUy did. The corresponding enterprises which they carried out 
 in many of the provincial cities were equally well done. 
 
 The fall of the Empire, and the establishment of its political 
 contrast, the Eepublic, did not substantially affect the course of archi- 
 tectural history, in France as it might have done elsewhere. The 
 administration of governmental affairs by bureaux has long been so 
 extremely systematic that a revolution in the legislature, or in the streets, 
 or even an occupation of Paris by a hostile army, seems to be a thing 
 apart. The Republican regime has no doubt glittered less brightly in 
 the sun than the Empire was wont to do ; but there has been no 
 material change in the tastes of the public, no introduction of any new 
 ascendency — for the heaux esprits have always been in the ascendant, 
 and are so still— no overthrow of anything more important than a 
 handful of parasites, not even a little change of air in Parisian society. 
 The architecture of the streets therefore has pursued the even tenor of 
 its way, and one year has differed from another only as some leading 
 designer may have added a trifle to the average of merit, or perhaps 
 subtracted it. 
 
 The style of design, consequently, which belongs to French Archi- 
 tecture of the last five-and-thirty years makes no claim to be regarded 
 otherwise than as the continued development of the European Re- 
 naissance at its headquarters. The main features are the same that 
 have been continually employed since the sixteenth century, columnar 
 or non-columnar Italian, modified according to the occasion or the 
 fancy ; and the only change in its handling has been an uninterrupted 
 advance in the spirit of elegance which is peculiar to the genius of the 
 French people. Many critics of the muscular order dislike this elegance 
 from the beginning of its history ; others prefer to think it has drifted 
 into effeminacy only in recent times ; there are still others who are of 
 opinion that it has in itself sufficient vigour if it had not fallen into 
 the hands of somewhat hasty and impulsive ornamentalists ; but there 
 it is, acknowledged on all hands, and, by the majority of refined people 
 in all countries, encouraged and imitated. 
 
 Almost the only picturesque incident of any moment that has 
 
 happened in the career of French Architecture during the period under 
 
 review is the earnest and learned attempt of Viollet-le-Duc to awaken in 
 
 the national mind a feeling of sentimental affection for the national 
 
 VOL. r. X
 
 306 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 style of the Middle Ages. Compared with the results of the corre- 
 sponding movement in England, the success of this revival has been so 
 small as to be practically nothing. Two circumstances contributed to 
 this failure. In the first place the French form of modern intelligence 
 naturally leans away from " the Ages of Faith " ; and the priests of an 
 Ultramontane Church have no such hold upon the social affections of 
 the moneyed classes as the very different order of clergy belonging to 
 the English Church are able to maintain. In the second place there is 
 a radical difference of motive between the French and English as 
 regards the treatment of historical buildings. The English have always 
 kept in view the preservation of the aucient aspect of the edifice ; the 
 French have always desired to remove the excoriation of anticjuity and 
 ex]3ose a renovated surface with which to start afresh. Yiollet-le-Duc 
 himself could not grasp the English idea of conservation, but even his 
 much more modest enthusiasm came to notliing ; most ably presented 
 as it was to the artistic and patriotic world, it has not eveu created a 
 school of enthusiasts, however small, to perpetuate his principles. The 
 French are not addicted to the more sentimeiital forms of archtvology 
 at any time ; the study of ecclesiological mysteries in particular would 
 be foreign to their nature ; the State, for purposes of State, is left to 
 maintain the structures of the State ; the architects in charge of them 
 are the servants of the State ; and there the matter ends. 
 
 In so far as any practical resuscitation of the Gothic style for use in 
 new ecclesiastical work was included in the programme of Viollet-le- 
 Duc, this project also has failed. Attempts have been made to build 
 churches in an imitation of the Mediajval mode ; but so entirely has 
 the ancient spirit been almost always missed, that English Gothicists, 
 in view of their own signal success, can scarcely be contradicted when 
 they say that French architects are quite as unable to produce good 
 Gothic as French people are to admire it. 
 
 A notable competition of designs took place shortly after the epoch 
 of 1851 for a new cathedral at Lille, in which the English architects 
 Burges and Street, then young men, took part, and were awarded the 
 leading positions. In fact, it was this victory, sui-prising alike to the 
 French and to ourselves, that first brought those two remarkable artists 
 into public notice ; the profound study of the higher ecclesiastical 
 architecture Avhich they had both pursued, and their evident devotion 
 to the extreme Medieval system, being manifested to a degree which 
 was not only far in advance of the ecclesiology of the day, but at the 
 same time most interesting even to the uninitiated. As usual nothing 
 came of the competition but honour and loss ; local patriotism- — and 
 why should we blame it .? — w^as much too powerful to admit of an 
 Englishman being employed to execute such a work. 
 
 Another celebrated competition of desigiis took place after the war 
 of 1871 for the church of the Sacred Heart at ISIontmartre : but
 
 Chap. VI. FRANCE : RECENT ARCHITECTURE. 307 
 
 Eomanesque was tlic style that was favoured from first to last. The 
 selected design cannot be called a great work, and its execution has not 
 been fortunate. 
 
 Theatres have been more popular subjects in France than churches, 
 and architecturally may be said to have been almost universally 
 successful. The Paris Opera-house, by Gamier, was regarded as being 
 in a manner the most characteristic building of the Second Empii-e, 
 bighly elaborated in the most voluptuous elegance of Rococo Neo-Gi-ec ; 
 but tbe style of such work has advanced considerably since that time, 
 and the Monte Carlo Theatre — which we may call French — is a mucli 
 more meretricious example. 
 
 The Palais de Justice at Paris, by Due, is scarcely equal to its 
 metropolitan importance ; but there are numerous local Mairies, Bourses, 
 Law Courts, H6tels-de-Ville, and other public buildings throughout tbe 
 provinces, which maintain the national reputation for elegance and 
 taste to the full ; and the new Hotel-de-Ville of Paris is a typical work 
 of the highest class, which will be noticed presently. In all alike we 
 see elegance increasing, in the proportions of features, the groujting of 
 masses, the modelling of mouldings, the ai^plication of carving and 
 sculpture, the general grace of composition and outline, and the pains- 
 taking study of detail. All this may perhaps be called more or less 
 effeminate if one insists upon it ; but if the beauty of French Arcbitec- 
 ture is as the beauty of woman, at least let us say that the man wbo 
 cainiot admire it is to be connniserated. — Ed.] 
 
 [Illustrations of Recent Architecture in France. — Tbe 
 subjects that have been selected to illustrate the more recent progress of 
 architectural design in France arc necessarily very few ; but it is hoped 
 they may be regarded as sufficiently characteristic, and it would be (|uite 
 superfluous to say that a whole volume could be filled with examples 
 equally interesting. 
 
 The new H6tel-de-Ville of Paris (No. 153«) is partly a reproduction 
 of the edifice so unhappily destroyed in the madness of "the Commune," 
 and otherwise a completion of the composition on perhaps less satis- 
 factory lines ; but the fine taste of the French is thoroughly exemplified, 
 and the structure as a whole is of the most imposing character. At the 
 same time we may comtemplate this fa9ade with mixed interest, as 
 exhibiting the embarrassment in which the French genius may be said 
 always to find itself placed when it has to deal with the imitation of 
 that which derives its value chiefly from mere traditional autbenticities. 
 An English architect of the higliest class — call bim an archaeologist if 
 you will — would have handled the new portions of the composition in iit 
 least a more archa3ological maimer. Possibly, indeed ])r()bably, he 
 would have made the new work to look more ancient than tbe old ; but 
 the French designer certainly makes it appear a little too id'oniiiienily 
 more modern.
 
 308 
 
 HISTOKY OF MODEltN ARCIIITECTUIIE. Book ill. 
 
 ^^i^^lB-l^W^S^T- 
 
 (
 
 Chap. VI. FRANCE : RECENT ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 :m)
 
 310 
 
 HISTORY OF MODERN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 153c. 
 
 National Librarj-, Paris. 
 
 The new building belonging to the Paris Faculty of Medicine 
 (No. IbU) is a composition of a much more intelligible and 
 characteristic type. Here we have the Xeo-Grec at its best, elegance 
 dominant in every part. Whether the reader thiidvs it could be im- 
 proved is not the true critical question : there is nothing that cannot be 
 censured. For example, there are not a few of us who may think they could
 
 Chap. VI. FILVNCE : RECENT AllCIHTEC'rUKE. 311 
 
 considerably improve the character of the entire basement, not only with 
 very little trouble, but without diminishing the effect of simplicity, or 
 severity, which the architect has had in his mind. There ai"e several 
 matters of detail, also, which might no doubt be unfavourably discussed. 
 But be it observed that such blemishes are in reality amongst the 
 characteristics of the age in which we live — an academical age straining 
 after novelty, and taking the risk of failure where it is so easy to fail. 
 
 The exquisite example of interior work from the National Library in 
 Paris (No. IbSc) is worthy of more than a passing glance, because of the 
 interesting combination of imposing richness and equally imposing 
 simplicity which it presents to the critical judgment. That it is 
 thoroughly French goes without saying ; although some may remark thai 
 it might almost as well be German — not always bearing in mind, perhaps, 
 how much of the best German work receives its inspiration palpably 
 from France. One feels almost ashamed to ask whether there is 
 effeminacy here ; but there are not wanting critics of the more 
 muscular order in England who will answer the question promptly in 
 the affirmative. So be it ; but one need feel no shame in suggesting, as 
 another question, whether a little of that same effeminacy, or indeed a 
 good deal of it, might not be attempted in some of our own public 
 buildings with unquestionable advantage ? Oh, for a gleam of it, for 
 instance, in our dismal Litigation-Palace in tlie Strand ! 
 
 The School of Art and Public Library at MarseiUes (No. IbBrI) is a 
 highly characteristic specimen of the more ordinary work which French 
 architects are able to produce all over tbe country for comparatively 
 unambitious purposes. It would be too sarcastic to invite a comparison 
 between this building and some of the very respectable edifices witli 
 which English practitioners have ventured to adorn our provincial 
 cities, whether in the Secular Gothic style, the Free-Italian, or the red 
 " Queen Anne." But it is to be hoped at least that not even the most 
 ardent admirer of muscular English work will fail to see that it must be 
 a happy state of things artistic when architecture of this kind is actually 
 common everywhere. That one might pick holes in its detail need not 
 for a moment be denied ; but the refined delicacy of it all, the simplicity, 
 the grace, and indeed the unpretentiousness of it, and its inexpensi\'e- 
 ness withal, and yet complete expressiveness — well may we say that the 
 French are the modern Hellenes ! 
 
 As one more example of current work, the Church of Ste. ITilaii'e 
 near Rouen (No. lo'Se) seems to be well worthy of consideration. 
 Churches in France are in many respects peculiarly circumstanced as 
 compared with churches in England : and it may at once be said that 
 church-building as practised in England could never be the forfp of the 
 French. Consequently there are not many specimens of ecclesiastical 
 building, of what we regard here as the ordinary or every-day kind, 
 which could be selected for fair comparison with our own. This Cluu-ch
 
 312 
 
 HISTORY OF MODEEN AECHITECTUEE. Book III.
 
 Chai*. VI. 
 
 FEANCE: RECENT ARCHITECTURE. 
 
 153e. Chmch of Ste. HiUire, Rouen. 
 
 of Ste. Hilaire is, however, one of them. It is needless to say that tlie 
 design would not be likely to prove successful in an English competition. 
 Nevertheless the reader will probably admit that it possesses very 
 considerable merit. 
 
 VOL. I. ^'
 
 314 IIISTOIJY OF MODEPtN ARCHITECTURE. Book III. 
 
 If live hundred examples had been given instead of these five, the 
 conclusion to be drawn Avould have been the same. Neo-(lrec is the 
 proper modern style of France, and it is capal^le of l)eing treated with 
 quite sufficient variety. Its success always dei)ends upon refinement ; 
 not courage, but finesse. It is never a slap-dash style, but it may 
 become fastidious and finikin. It may be meretricious and e^'en 
 whimsical, but it is never hrt(Hque. It may be too ladylike for some of 
 us, ])ut is it not l)eautifully dressed ? 
 
 lias the (picstion ever been fully discussed how far ancient Greek 
 c-olonisation on the soil of primitive France may have produced by direct 
 heredity, inter alia, the Hellenic motive in modern French art ? It 
 seems to be quite clear that there was no Hellenic taste communicated 
 to France from Italy at the time of the Renaissance. May it not also 
 be equally recognised that during the preA'ious period the Gothic of 
 France, as compared with the same style elsewhere, had a refined grace 
 of its own of the same type as the subsequent Neo-Grcc ? — Ed.] 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 i.oxhon: niiNTED iiy William clowes and sons, limited, S'fAMi-ouD stueet 
 
 AND CHAlilNG CilOSS.
 
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