The seven lamps of architecture. With illustrations drawn by the author

Contents

CHAP.

PAGE

I. The Lamp of Sacrifice .

Preface To The First Edition

The memoranda which form the basis of the following Essay have been thrown together during the preparation of one of the sections of the third volume of Modern Painters ^. I once thought of giving them a more expanded form ; but their utility, such as it may be, would probably be diminished by farther delay in their pubhcation, more than it would be increased by greater care in their arrangement. Obtained in every case by personal observation, there may be among them some details valuable even to the experienced architect ; but with respect to the opinions founded upon them I must be prepared to bear the charge of impertinence which can hardly but attach to the writer who assumes a dogmatical tone in speaking of an art he has never practised. There are, however, cases in which men feel too keenly to be silent, and perhaps too strongly to be wrong ; I have been forced

1 The inordinate delay in the appearance of that supplementary volume has, indeed, been chiefly owing to the necessity under which the writer felt himself, of obtaining as many memoranda as possible of mediaeval buildings in Italy and Normandy, now in process of destruction, before that destruction should be consummated by the Restorer, or Revolutionist. His whole time has been lately occupied in taking drawings from one side of buildings, of which IS were knocking down the other; nor can he yet himself to any time for the publication of the conn of Modem Painters : he can only promise that its i.-lay shall not be owing to any indolence on his part.

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into this impertinence ; and have suffered too much from the destruction or neglect of the architecture I best loved, and from the erection of that which I cannot love, to reason cautiously respecting the modesty of my opposition to the principles which have induced the scorn of the one, or directed the design of the other. And I have been the less careful to modify the confidence of my statements of principles, because, in the midst of the opposition and uncertainty of our architectural systems, it seems to me that there is something grateful in any positive opinion, though in many points wrong, as even weeds are useful that grow on a bank of sand.

Every apology is, however, due to the reader for the hasty and imperfect execution of the plates. Having much more serious work in hand, and desiring merely to render them illustrative of my meaning, I have sometimes very completely failed even of that humble aim ; and the text, being generally written before the illustration was completed, sometimes naively describes as subhme or beautiful, features which the plate represents by a blot. I shall be grateful if the reader will in such cases refer the expressions of praise to the Architecture, and not to the illustration.

So far, however, as their coarseness and rudeness admit, the plates are valuable ; being either copies of memoranda made upon the spot, or (Plates IX and XI) enlarged and adapted from Daguerreotypes, taken under my own superintendence. Unfortunately, the great distance from the ground of the window which is the subject of Plate IX renders even the Daguerrotype indistinct ; and I cannot answer for the accuracy of any of the mosaic details, more especially of those surrounding the window, which I rather imagine, in the original, to be sculptured in reUef. The general proportions are, however, studiously preserved ; the spirals of the shafts are counted, and the effect of the whole is as near that of the thing itself, as is necessary

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION xi

for the purposes of illustration for which the plate is given. For the accuracy of the rest I can answer, even to the cracks in the ston*es, and the number of them ; and though the looseness of the drawing, and the picturesque character which is necessarily given by an endeavour to draw old buildings as they actually appear, may perhaps diminish their credit for architectural veracity, they will do so unjustly.

The system of lettering adopted in the few instances in which sections have been given, appears somewhat obscure in the references, but it is convenient upon the whole. The line which marks the direction of any section is noted, if the section be symmetrical, by a single letter, as a ; and the section itself by the same letter with a line over it — a. But if the section be unsymmetrical, its direction is noted by two letters, a. a^, at its extremities ; and the actual section by the same letters with lines over them, a. d^, at the correspondent extremities.

The reader will perhaps be surprised by the small number of buildings to which reference has been made. But it is to be remembered that the following chapters pretend only to be a statement of principles, illustrated each by one or two examples ; not an Essay on European architecture ; and those examples I have generally taken either from the buildings which I love best, or from the schools of architecture which, it appeared to me, have been less carefully described than they deserved. I could as fully, though not with the accuracy and certainty derived from personal observation, have illustrated the principles subsequently advanced, from the architecture of Egypt, India, or Spain, as from that to which the reader will find his attention chiefly directed, the Italian Romanesque and Gothic. But my affections, as well as my experience, led me to that line of richly varied and magnificently intellectual schools, which reaches, like a high watershed of Christian architecture, from the Adriatic xii PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION

to the Northumbrian seas, bordered by the impure schools of Spain on the one hand, and of Germany on the other : and as culminating points and centres of this chain, I have considered, first, the cities of the Val d'Arno, as representing the Italian Romanesque and pure Italian Gothic ; Venice and Verona as representing the Italian Gothic coloured by Byzantine elements ; and Rouen, with the associated Norman cities, Caen, Bayeux, and Coutances, as representing the entire range of Northern architecture from the Romanesque to Flamboyant.

I could have wished to have given more examples from our early English Gothic ; but I have always found it impossible to work in the cold interiors of our cathedrals ; while the daily services, lamps, and fumigation of those upon the Continent, render them perfectly safe. In the course of last summer I undertook a pilgrimage to the English Shrines, and began with Salisbury, where the consequence of a few days' work was a state of weakened health, which I may be permitted to name among the causes of the shghtness and imperfection of the present Essay.

Preface To The Second Edition

iSmcE the publication of the first edition of this work, the pursuit of the inquiries I then proposed to myself has enabled me to speak with certainty upon some subjects which at the time when the following pages were first arranged, I was obhged to approach with hesitation.

I have not, however, except in unimportant particulars, altered the body of the text, or added to it. I would only request the reader not to regard it as a complete exponent of the views I am at present engaged in advocating, but rather as an introduction to the more considered and careful statements of those views given in The Stones of Venice, and in my Lectures dehvered at Edinburgh.

I cannot, however, allow this work to pass a second time through the press, without stating in its preface the most important of all the ultimate principles which I have been able subsequently to ascertain.

I found, after carefully investigating the character of the emotions which were generally felt by welleducated people respecting various forms of good architecture, that these emotions might be separated into four general heads :

1. Sentimental Admiration. The kind of feeling which most travellers experience on first entering a cathedral by torchlight, and hearing a chant from concealed choristers ; or in visiting a ruined abbey by moonlight or any building with which interesting xiv PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

associations are connected, at any time when they can hardly see it.

2. Proud Admiration. The dehght which most worldly people take in showy, large, or complete buildings, for the sake of the importance which such buildings confer on themselves, as their possessors, or admirers.

3. Workmanly Admiration. The delight of seeing good and neat masonry, together with that belonging to incipient developments of taste ; as, for instance, a perception of proportion in Unes, masses, and mouldings.

4. Artistical and rational Admiration. The delight taken in reading the sculpture or painting on walls, capitals, friezes, etc.

Of these four kinds of feeling I found, on farther inquiry, that the first, or sentimental kind, was instinctive and simple ; excitable in nearly all persons, by a certain amount of darkness and slow music in a minor key. That it had good uses, and was of a dignified character in some minds ; but that on the whole it was apt to rest in theatrical effect, and to be as well satisfied with the incantation scene in Robert le Diable, provided there were enough gauze and feux-foUets, as by the Cathedral of Rheims. That it might generally be appealed to with advantage as a judge of the relative impressiveness of two styles of art, but was wholly unable to distinguish truth from affectation in the style it preferred. Even in its highest manifestation, in the great mind of Scott, while it indeed led him to lay his scenes in Melrose Abbey and Glasgow Cathedral, rather than in St Paul's or St Peter's, it did not enable him to see the difference between true Gothic at Glasgow, and false Gothic at Abbotsford. As a critical faculty, I found it was hardly to be taken into consideration in any reasoning on the higher merits of architecture.

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION xv

2. Proud Admiration. This kind of applause, so far from being courted, I found ought altogether to be deprecated by the noble architect, and that no building could be reaUy admirable which was not admirable to the poor. So that there was an essential baseness in the Renaissance (i.e. the modem ItaHan and Greek style), and an essential nobleness in the Gothic, consisting simply in the pride of the one, and the humihty of the other. I found the love of largeness, and especially of symmetry, invariably associated with vulgarity and narrowness of mind, so that the person most intimately acquainted with the mind of the monarch to whom the Renaissance architecture owed its principal impulse, describing his principles of religion, states that he ' was shocked to be told that Jesus Christ spoke the language of the humble and the poor ' ; and, describing his taste in architecture, says that he 'thought of nothing but grandeur, magnificence, and symmetry '. ^

3. Workmanly Admiration. This, of course, though right within certain hmits, is wholly uncritical, being as easily satisfied with the worst as with the best building, so that the mortar be laid smoothly. As to the feeling with which it is usually united, namely, a delight in the intelligent observance of the proportions of masses, it is good in all the affairs of life, whether regulating the disposition of dishes at a dinner table," of ornaments on a dress, or of pillars in a portico. But it no more constitutes the true power of an architect, than the possession of a good ear for metre constitute

1 Madame de Maintenon, quoted in Quarterly Review, March, 1855, pp. 423-8. She says, afterwards : ' He prefers to endure all the draughts from the doors, in order that they may be opposite one another — you must perish in symmetry '.

2 * At the chateau of Madame V, the white-headed butler begped madame to apologise for the central flower-basket on the table : " He nad not had time to study the composition ".' — Mrs. Stowe's Sunny Memories, lett. 44.

xvi PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

a poet ; and every building whose excellence consists merely in the proportion of masses is to be considered as nothing more than an architectural doggrel, or rhyming exercise.

4. Artistical and rational Admiration. I found finally, that this, the only admiration worth having, attached itself wholly to the meaning of the scupture and colour on the building. That it was very regardless of general form and size ; but intensely observant of the statuary, floral mouldings, mosaics, and other decorations. Upon which, little by httle, it gradually became manifest to me that the sculpture and painting were, in fact, the all in all of the thing to be done ; that these, which I had long been in the careless habit of thinking subordinate to the architecture, were in fact the entire masters of the architecture ; and that the architect who was not a sculptor or a painter, was nothing better than a frame-maker on a large scale. Having once got this clue to the truth, every question about architecture immediately settled itseK without farther difficulty. I saw that the idea of an independent architectural profession was a mere modern fallacy, the thought of which had never so much as entered the heads of the great nations of earher times ; but that it had always, till lately, been understood, that in order to have a Parthenon, one had to get a preHminary Phidias ; and to have a Cathedral of Florence, a preHminary Giotto ; and to have even a Saint Peter's at Rome, a preHminary Michael Angelo. And as, with this new light, I examined the nobler examples of our Gothic cathedrals, it became apparent to me that the master workman must have been the person who carved the bas-reHefs in the porches ; that to him all others must have been subordinate, and by him all the rest of the cathedral essentiaUy arranged ; but that in fact the whole company of builders, always large, were more or less divided into two great flocks of stonelayers and sculptors ; and that the number of sculptors

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION xvii

was so great, and their average talent so considerable, that it would no more have been thought necessary to state respecting the master builder that he could carve a statue, than that he could measure an angle, or strike a curve ^

If the reader will think over this statement carefully he -vnW find that it is indeed true, and a key to many things. The fact is, there are only two fine arts possible to the human race, sculpture and painting. What we call architecture is only the association of these in noble masses, or the placing them in fit places. All architecture other than this is, in fact, mere building ; and though it may sometimes be graceful, as in the groinings of an abbey roof ; or sublime, as in the battlements of a border tower ; there is, in such examples of it, no more exertion of the powers of high art, than in the gracefulness of a well-ordered chamber, or the nobleness of a well-built ship of war.

All high art consists in the carving or painting natural objects, chiefly figures : it has always subject and meaning, never consisting solely in arrangement of lines, or even of colours. It always paints or carves something that it sees or beheves in ; nothing ideal or uncredited. For the most part, it paints and carves the men and things that are visible around it. And as soon as we possess a body of sculptors able, and willing, and having leave from the Engfish public, to carve on the fa9ades of our cathedrals portraits of the living bishops, deans, canons, and choristers, who are to minister in the said cathedrals ; and on the fa9ades of our pubhc buildings, portraits of the men chiefly moving or acting in the same ; and on our

1 The name by which the architect of Cologne Cathedral is designated in the contracts for the work is ' magister lapicida ', the ' master stone-cutter ' ; and I beUeve this was the usual Latin term throughout the middle ages. The architect of the fourteenth century portions of Notre-Dame, I'aris, is styled in French, merely premier masson '.

xviii PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

buildings, generally, the birds and flowers which are singing and budding in the fields around them, we shall have a school of English architecture. Not till then.

This general principle being understood, there is, I think, nothing in the text which I may not leave in the form in which it was originally written, without further comment, except only the expression of doubt (p. 218) as to the style which ought, at present, to be consistently adopted by our architects. I have now no doubt that the only style proper for modem northern work, is the Northern Gothic of the thirteenth century, as exemphfied, in England, pre-eminently by the cathedrals of Lincoln and Wells, and, in France, by those of Paris, Amiens, Chartres, Rheims, and Bourges, and by the transepts of that of Rouen.

I must here also deprecate an idea which is often taken up by hasty readers of The Stones of Venice ; namely, that I suppose Venetian architecture the most noble of the schools of Gothic. I have great respect for Venetian Gothic, but only as one among many early schools. My reason for devoting so much time to Venice, was not that her architecture is the best in existence, but that it exemplifies, in the smallest compass, the most interesting facts of architectural history. The Gothic of Verona is far nobler than that of Venice ; and that of Florence nobler than that of Verona. For our own immediate purposes that of Notre-Dame of Paris is noblest of all ; and the greatest service which can at present be rendered to architecture, is the careful delineation of the details of the cathedrals above named, by means of photography. I would particularly desire to direct the attention of amateur photographers to this task ; earnestly requesting them to bear in mind that while a photograph of landscape is merely an amusing toy, one of early architecture is a precious historical document ; and that this architecture should be taken, not merely when it presents itself under picturesque general forms, but stone by

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION six

stone, and sculpture by sculpture ; seizing every opportunity afiforded by scaffolding to approacb it closely, and putting the camera in any position that wUl command the sculpture, wholly without regard to the resultant distortions of the vertical lines ; such distortion can always be allowed for, if once the details are completely obtained.

It would be still more patriotic in lovers of architecture to obtain casts of the sculptures of the thirteenth century, wherever an opportunity occurs, and to place them where they would be easily accessible to the ordinary workman. The Architectural Museum at Westminster is one of the institutions which it appears to me most desirable to enrich in this manner.

I have only to add that the Plates of the present Volume have been carefully re-etched by Mr Cuff^ retaining, as far as possible, the appearance of the original sketches, but remedying the defects which resulted in the first edition from my careless etching. Of the subject of the 9th Plate I prepared a new drawing, which has been admirably engraved by oVIr Armj^tage. The lettering, and other references, will, 1 hope, be found more inteUigible throughout.

NOTE

In the third and following editions the Author named (in the mai^ns of tlie pages) certain passages of his text Aphorisms, printing them in clarendon type and numbering them consecutively from 1 to 33. These passages are indicated below :

Aphorism 1, p. 2, line 1 (while) to end of §.

2, p. 4, line 30 (It) to p. 5, end of first §.

3, p. 6, line 31 (The) to p. 7, end of first §.

4, p. 8, first § (four hues).

5, p. 18, last line (I speak) to p. 19, end of first §.

6, p. 22, line 19 (We are) to line 35 (intellect).

7, p. 32, line 11 (We are) to end of second §.

8, p. 33, line 27 (To speak) to p. 34, end of nrst §.

9, p. 34, line 33 (For it) to p. 35, end of first §.

10, p. 43, line 11 (This rule) to p. 44, end of first §.

11, p. 45, line 28 (the highest) to p. 46, end of §.

12, p. 47, line 27 (so great) to p. 48, end of first §.

13, p. 52, last line (It is) to p. 53, last line but one (substance).

14, p. 54, line 20 (The true) to p. 55, end of first §.

15, p. 58, line 17 (But I) to p. 59, end of first 3.

16, p. 63, last line but three (The reader) to p.65, e. id of first §.

17, p. 72, line 32 (Now) to p. 73, end of first §. 90, Une 33 (The rolling) to p. 91, end of first §.

108, Une 10 (Now) to line 16 (ugly).

109, line 17 (But) to line 33 (man). 137, line 26 (Leaves) to line 25 (treatment). 140, line 25 (Under) to p. 142, end of first §. 154, Une 12 (that things) to p. 155, end of first §. 160, line 27 (It has) to p. 161, end of first §. 177, line 13 (I said) to p. 178, line 14 (handling). 182, line 21 (We have) to p. 183, end of §.

187, line 1 (And if) to end of §.

188, line 6 ( I say) to p. 189, end of first §. 194, line 12 (The idea) to p. 195, end of first §.

, 195, line 20 (For, indeed) to p. 196, end of first §. , 203, line 30 (Neither) to p. 205, line 10 (Milan). . 208, Une 13 (Nor) to end of §. 33, p. 218, line 27 (It is) to p. 219, line 31 (further).

18,

p.

19,

P-

20,

P-

21,

p.

22,

p.

23,

P-

24,

p.

p.

p.

p.

28,

P-

29,

p.

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THE SEVEN LAMPS OF ARCHITECTURE

Some years ago, in conversation with an artist whose works, perhaps, alone, in the present day, unite perfection of drawing with resplendence of colour, the writer made some inquiry respecting the general means by which this latter quality was most easily to be attained. The reply was as concise as it was comprehensive— ' Know what you have to do, and do it ' — comprehensive, not only as regarded the branch of art to which it temporarily applied, but as expressing the great principle of success in every direction of human effort ; for I believe that failure is less frequently attributable to either insufficiency of means or impatience of labour, than to a confused understanding of a thing actually to be done ; and therefore, while it is properly a subject of ridicule, and sometimes of blame, that men propose to themselves a perfection of any kind, which reason, temperately consulted, might have shown to be impossible with the means at their command, it is a more dangerous error to permit the consideration of means to interfere with our conception, or, as is not impossible, even hinder our acknowledgment of goodness and perfection in themselves. And this is the more cautiously to be remembered ; because, while a man's sense and conscience, aided by Revelation, are always enough, if earnestly directed, to enable him to discover what is right, neither his sense, nor conscience, nor feeling is ever enough, because they are not intended, to determine for him what is possible. He knows neither his own strength nor that of his fellows, neither the exact dependence to be placed on his allies nor resistance to be expected from his opponents.

These are questions respecting which passion may warp his conclusions, and ignorance must limit them ; but it is his own fault if either interfere with the apprehension of duty, or the acknowledgment of right. And, as far as I have taken cognizance of the causes of the many failures to which the efforts of intelligent men are liable, more especially in matters political, they seem to me more largely to spring from this single error than from all others, that the inquiry into the doubtful, and in some sort inexplicable relations of capability, chance, resistance, and inconvenience, invariably precedes, even if it do not altogether supersede, the determination of what is absolutely desirable and just. Nor is it any wonder that sometimes the too cold calculation of our powers should reconcile us too easily to our shortcomings, and even lead us into the fatal error of supposing that our conjectural utmost is in itself well, or, in other words, that the necessity of offences renders them inoffensive. What is true of human polity seems to me not less so of the distinctively political art of Architecture. I have long felt convinced of the necessity, in order to its progress, of some determined effort to extricate from the confused mass of partial traditions and dogmata with which it has become encumbered during imperfect or restricted practice, those large principles of right which are applicable to every stage and style of it. Uniting the technical and imaginative elements as essentially as humanity does soul and body, it shows the same infirmly balanced liability to the prevalence of the lower part over the higher, to the interference of the constructive with the purity and simplicity of the reflective element.

This tendency, like every other form of materialism, is increasing with the advance of the age ; and the only laws which resist it, based upon partial precedents, and already regarded with disrespect as decrepit, if not with defiance as tjrrannical, are evidently inapplicable to the new forms and functions of the art, which the necessities of the day demand. How many these necessities may become, cannot be conjectured ; they rise, strange and impatient, out of every modern shadow of change. How far it may be possible to meet them without a sacrifice of the essential characters of architectural art, cannot be determined by specific calculation or observance. There is no law, no principle, based on past practice, which may not be overthrown in a moment, by the arising of a new condition, or the invention of a new material ; and the most rational, if not the only, mode of averting the danger of an utter dissolution of all that is systematic and consistent in our practice, or of ancient authority in our judgment, is to cease, for a little while, our endeavours to deal with the multiplying host of particular abuses, restraints, or requirements ; and endeavour to determine, as the guides of every effort, some constant, general, and irrefragable laws of right — laws, which based upon man's nature, not upon his knowledge, may possess so far the unchangeableness of the one, as that neither the increase nor imperfection of the other may be able to assault or invahdate them.

There are, perhaps, no such laws peculiar to any one art. Their range necessarily includes the entire horizon of man's action. But they have modified forms and operations belonging to each of his pursuits, and the extent of their authority cannot surely be considered as a diminution of its weight. Those peculiar aspects of them which belong to the first of the arts, I have endeavoured to trace in the following pages ; and since, if truly stated, they must necessarily be, not only safeguards against every form of error, but sources of every measure of success, I do not think that I claim too much for them in calling them the Lamps of Architecture, nor that it is indolence, in endeavouring to ascertain the true nature and nobihty of their fire, to refuse to enter into any curious or special questioning of the innumerable hindrances by which their light has been too often distorted or overpowered.

Had this farther examination been attempted, the work would have become certainly more invidious, and perhaps less useful, as liable to errors which are avoided by the present simj)licity of its plan. Simple though it be, its extent is too great to admit of any adequate accomphshment, unless by a devotion of time which the writer did not feel justified in withdrawing from branches of inquiry in which the prosecution of works already undertaken has engaged him. Both arrangement and nomenclature are those of convenience rather than of system ; the one is arbitrary and the other illogical : nor is it pretended that all, or even the greater number of, the principles necessary to the well-being of the art, are included in the inquiry. Many, however, of considerable importance will be found to develop themselves incidentally from those more specially brought forward.

Graver apology is necessary for an apparently graver fault. It has been just said, that there is no branch of human work whose constant laws have not close analogy with those which govern every other mode of man's exertion. But, more than this, exactly as we reduce to greater simplicity and surety any one group of these practical laws, we shall find them passing the mere condition of connection or analogy, and becoming the actual expression of some ultimate nerve or fibre of the mighty laws which govern the moral world.

However mean or inconsiderable the act, there is something in the well doing of it, which has fellowship with the noblest forms of manly virtue ; and the truth, decision, and temperance, which we reverently regard as honourable conditions of the spiritual being, have a representative or derivative influence over the works of the hand, the movements of the frame, and the action of the intellect.