,illustration3 ,,plate                  
,,ix4--7,frontispiece--,vol4 ,v47       
,,tracery ,,from ,,the ,,campanile ,,of 
,,giotto ,,at ,,florence4               
,illustrated ,cabinet ,edition     ,the 
,seven ,lamps of ,architecture          
,lectures on ,architecture and ,painting
   ,the ,study of ,architecture    by   
,john ,ruskin     ,illustration         
,boston   ,dana ,estes  ,company        
,publishers     ,,contents4   ,,seven   
,,lamps ,,of ,,architecture4            
,,page   ,,preface                      
#e   ,,introduction                     
#i   ,,chapter ,i4     ,,the ,,lamp ,,of
 ,,sacrifice                            
#ae   ,,chapter ,,ii4     ,,the ,,lamp  
,,of ,,truth                            
#cd   ,,chapter ,,iii4     ,,the ,,lamp 
,,of ,,power                            
#fi   ,,chapter ,,iv4     ,,the ,,lamp  
,,of ,,beauty                           
#ajj   ,,chapter ,v4     ,,the ,,lamp   
,,of ,,life                             
#adb   ,,chapter ,,vi4     ,,the ,,lamp 

,,of ,,memory                           
#afg   ,,chapter ,,vii4     ,,the ,,lamp
 ,,of ,,obedience                       
#ahh   ,,notes                          
#bjc   ,,lectures ,,on ,,architecture   
,,and ,,painting    ,,preface           
#bac   ,,lecture ,i4                    
#bag   ,,lecture ,,ii4                  
#bdh     ,,addenda to ,lectures ,i4 and 
,,ii4                 #bgj   ,,lecture  
,,iii4 ,turner and his ,works           
#bhg   ,,lecture ,,iv4                  
,pre-,raphaelitism                      
#caa     ,,addenda to ,lecture ,,iv4    
#ccd   ,,the ,,study ,,of               
,,architecture4    ,,an ,,inquiry ,,into
 ,,the ,,study ,,of ,,architecture      
#cci    ,,list ,,of ,,illustrations4    
,,seven ,,lamps ,,of ,,architecture     
,,plate                                 
,,page      ,i4 ,,ornaments ,,from      
,,rouen1 ,,st4 ,,lo1 ,,and ,,venice     
#cc     ,,ii4 ,,part ,,of ,,the         
,,cathedral ,,of ,,st4 ,,lo1 ,,normandy 
#ee    ,,iii4 ,,traceries ,,from ,,caen1

 ,,bayeux1 ,,rouen ,,and ,,beavais      
#fj     ,,iv4 ,,intersectional          
,,mouldings                             
#ff      ,v4 ,,capital ,,from ,,the     
,,lower ,,arcade ,,of ,,the ,,doge',s   
,,palace1 ,,venice  #hh     ,,vi4 ,,arch
 ,,from ,,the ,,facade ,,of ,,the       
,,church ,,of ,,san ,,michele ,,at      
,,lucca  #ij    ,,vii4 ,,pierced        
,,ornaments ,,from ,,lisieux1 ,,bayeux1 
,,verona1 ,,and ,,padua   #ic   ,,viii4 
,,window ,,from ,,the ,,ca' ,,foscari1  
,,venice                         #ie    
,,ix4 ,,tracery ,,from ,,the ,,campanile
 ,,of ,,giotto1             ,,at        
,,florence4                             
,frontispiece4      ,x4 ,,traceries     
,,and ,,mouldings ,,from ,,rouen ,,and  
,,salisbury           #abb     ,,xi4    
,,balcony ,,in ,,the ,,campo1 ,,st4     
,,benedetto1 ,,venice                   
#aca    ,,xii4 ,,fragments ,,from       
,,abbeville1 ,,lucca1 ,,venice ,,and    
,,pisa           #adi   ,,xiii4         
,,portions ,,of ,,an ,,arcade ,,on ,,the

 ,,south ,,side ,,of ,,the              
,,cathedral ,,of ,,ferrara              
#afa    ,,xiv4 ,,sculptures ,,from ,,the
 ,,cathedral ,,of ,,rouen               
#afe   ,,lectures ,,on ,,architecture   
,,and ,,painting    ,plate ,i4 ,,figs4  
#a1 #c ,,and #e4 ,,illustrative         
,,diagrams                 #bai         
,,ii4      #b4 ,,window ,,in ,,oakham   
,,castle                        #bba    
,,iii4      #d ,,and #f4 ,,spray ,,of   
,,ash-,,tree1 ,,and ,,improvement       
,,of ,,the ,,same ,,on ,,greek          
,,principles        #bbf       ,,iv4    
#g4 ,,window ,,in ,,dumblane ,,cathedral
                   #bca        ,v4      
#h4 ,,mediaeval ,,turret                
#bce       ,,vi4      #i ,,and #aj4     
,,lombardic ,,towers                    
#bch      ,,vii4     #aa ,,and #ab4     
,,spires ,,at ,,contances ,,and ,,rouen 
#bdj      ,,viii4    #ac ,,and #ad4     
,,illustrative ,,diagrams               
#bec       ,,ix4     #ae4 ,,sculpture   
,,at ,,lyons                            

#bed        ,x4     #af4 ,,niche ,,at   
,,amiens                                
#bee       ,,xi4     #ag ,,and #ah4     
,tig,e,r',s ,,head1 ,,and ,,improvement 
,,of                              ,,the 
,,same ,,on ,,greek ,,principles        
#beh      ,,xii4     #ai4 ,,garret      
,,window ,,in ,,hotel ,,de              
,,bourgtheroude        #bfe      ,,xiii4
    #bj ,,and #ba4 ,,trees1 ,,as ,,drawn
 ,,in ,,the ,,thirteenth                
,,century                               
#bid      ,,xiv4     #bb4 ,,rocks1 ,,as 
,,drawn ,,by ,,the ,,school ,,of        
,,leonardo                              
,,da ,,vinci                            
#bif       ,,xv4     #bc4 ,,boughs ,,of 
,,trees1 ,,after ,,titian               
#bih     ,,the ,,seven ,,lamps ,,of     
,,architecture     ,,preface4   ,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 ,painters4,a ,i once thought of 

giving them a more expanded form2 but   
their utility1 such as it may be1 would 
probably be diminished by farther delay 
in their publication1 more than it would
 be increased by greater care in their  
arrangement4 ,obtained in every case by 
personal observation1 there may be among
 them some details valuable even to the 
experienced architect2 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 
practised4 ,there are1 however1 cases in
 which men feel too keenly to be silent1
 and perhaps too strongly to be wrong2  
,i have been forced into this           
impertinence2 and have suffered too much
 from the destruction or neglect of the 
architecture ,i best loved1 and from the
 erection of that which ,i cannot love1 
to reason cautiously respecting the     
modesty of my opposition to the         
principles which have induced the scorn 

of the one1 or directed the design of   
the other4 ,and ,i have been the less   
careful to modify the confidence of my  
statements of principles1 because in the
 midst of the opposition and uncertainty
 of our architectural systems1 it seems 
to me that there is something grateful  
in any positive opinion1 though in many 
points wrong1 as even weeds are useful  
that grow on a bank of sand4      ,a    
,the inordinate delay in the appearance 
of that supplementary     volume has1   
indeed1 been chiefly owing to the       
necessity under which     the writer    
felt himself1 of obtaining as many      
memoranda as possible     of mediaeval  
buildings in ,italy and ,normandy1 now  
in process of     destruction1 before   
that destruction should be consummated  
by the     ,restorer or ,revolutionist4 
,his whole time has been lately occupied
     in taking drawings from one side of
 buildings1 of which masons were        
knocking down the other2 nor can he yet 
pledge himself to any time     for the  

publication of the conclusion of ,modern
 ,painters2 he can     only promise that
 its delay shall not be owing to any    
indolence on     his part4  ,every      
apology is1 however1 due to the reader1 
for the hasty and imperfect execution of
 the plates4 ,having much more serious  
work in hand1 and desiring merely to    
render them illustrative of my meaning1 
,i have sometimes very completely failed
 even of that humble aim2 and the text1 
being generally written before the      
illustration was completed1 sometimes   
naively describes as sublime or         
beautiful1 features which the plate     
represents by a blot4 ,i shall be       
grateful if the reader will in such     
cases refer the expressions of praise to
 the ,architecture1 and not to the      
illustration4  ,so far1 however1 as     
their coarseness and rudeness admit1 the
 plates are valuable2 being either      
copies of memoranda made upon the spot1 
or 7,plates ,,ix4 and ,,xi47 enlarged   
and adapted from ,daguerreotypes1 taken 

under my own superintendence4           
,unfortunately1 the great distance from 
the ground of the window which is the   
subject of ,plate ,,ix4 renders even the
 ,daguerreotype indistinct2 and ,i      
cannot answer for the accuracy of any of
 the mosaic details1 more especially of 
those which surround the window1 and    
which ,i rather imagine1 in the         
original1 to be sculptured in relief4   
,the general proportions are1 however1  
studiously preserved2 the spirals of the
 shafts are counted1 and the effect of  
the whole is as near that of the thing  
itself1 as is necessary for the purposes
 of illustration for which the plate is 
given4 ,for the accuracy of the rest ,i 
can answer1 even to the cracks in the   
stones1 and the number of them2 and     
though the looseness of the drawing1 and
 the picturesque character which is     
necessarily given by an endeavor to draw
 old buildings as they actually appear1 
may perhaps diminish their credit for   
architectural veracity1 they will do so 

unjustly4  ,the system of lettering     
adopted in the few instances in which   
sections have been given1 appears       
somewhat obscure in the references1 but 
it is convenient upon the whole4 ,the   
line which marks the direction of any   
section is noted1 if the section be     
symmetrical1 by a single letter2 and the
 section itself by the same letter with 
a line over it1 a4--a4 ,but if the      
section be unsymmetrical1 its direction 
is noted by two letters1 a4 a4 a#b at   
its extremities2 and the actual section 
by the same letters with lines over     
them1 a4 a4 a#b1 at the corresponding   
extremities4  ,the reader will perhaps  
be surprised by the small number of     
buildings to which reference has been   
made4 ,but it is to be remembered that  
the following chapters pretend only to  
be a statement of principles1           
illustrated each by one or two examples1
 not an essay on ,european architecture2
 and those examples ,i have generally   
taken either from the buildings which ,i

 love best1 or from the schools of      
architecture which1 it appeared to me1  
have been less carefully described than 
they deserved4 ,i could as fully1 though
 not with the accuracy and certainty    
derived from personal observation1 have 
illustrated the principles subsequently 
advanced1 from the architecture of      
,egypt1 ,india1 or ,spain1 as from that 
to which the reader will find his       
attention chiefly directed1 the ,italian
 ,romanesque and ,gothic4 ,but my       
affections1 as well as my experience1   
led me to that line of richly varied and
 magnificently intellectual schools1    
which reaches1 like a high watershed of 
,christian architecture1 from the       
,adriatic to the ,northumbrian seas1    
bordered by the impure schools of ,spain
 on the one hand1 and of ,germany on the
 other3 and as culminating points and   
centres of this chain1 ,i have          
considered1 first1 the cities of the    
,val d',arno1 as representing the       
,italian ,romanesque and pure ,italian  

,gothic2 ,venice and ,verona as         
representing the ,italian ,gothic       
colored by ,byzantine elements2 and     
,rouen1 with the associated ,norman     
cities1 ,caen1 ,bayeux1 and ,coutances1 
as representing the entire range of     
,northern architecture from the         
,romanesque to ,flamboyant4  ,i could   
have wished to have given more examples 
from our early ,english ,gothic2 but ,i 
have always found it impossible to work 
in the cold interiors of our cathedrals1
 while the daily services1 lamps1 and   
fumigation of those upon the ,continent1
 render them perfectly safe4 ,in the    
course of last summer ,i undertook a    
pilgrimage to the ,english ,shrines1 and
 began with ,salisbury1 where the       
consequence of a few days' work was a   
state of weakened health1 which ,i may  
be permitted to name among the causes of
 the slightness and imperfection of the 
present ,essay4     ,,introductory4     
,some years ago1 in conversation with an
 artist whose works1 perhaps1 alone1 in 

the present day1 unite perfection of    
drawing with resplendence of color1 the 
writer made some inquiry respecting the 
general means by which this latter      
quality was most easily to be attained4 
,the reply was as concise as it was     
comprehensive--,know what you have to   
do1 and do it--comprehensive1 not only  
as regarded the branch of art to which  
it temporarily applied1 but as          
expressing the great principle of       
success in every direction of human     
effort2 for ,i believe that failure is  
less frequently attributable to either  
insufficiency of means or impatience of 
labor1 than to a confused understanding 
of the thing actually to be done2 and   
therefore1 while it is properly a       
subject of ridicule1 and sometimes of   
blame1 that men propose to themselves a 
perfection of any kind1 which reason1   
temperately consulted1 might have shown 
to be impossible with the means at their
 command1 it is a more dangerous error  
to permit the consideration of means to 

interfere with our conception1 or1 as is
 not impossible1 even hinder our        
acknowledgment of goodness and          
perfection in themselves4 ,and this is  
the more cautiously to be remembered2   
because1 while a man's sense and        
conscience1 aided by ,revelation1 are   
always enough1 if earnestly directed1 to
 enable him to discover what is right1  
neither his sense1 nor conscience1 nor  
feeling1 are ever enough1 because they  
are not intended1 to determine for him  
what is possible4 ,he knows neither his 
own strength nor that of his fellows1   
neither the exact dependence to be      
placed on his allies nor resistance to  
be expected from his opponents4 ,these  
are questions respecting which passion  
may warp his conclusions1 and ignorance 
must limit them2 but it is his own fault
 if either interfere with the           
apprehension of duty1 or the            
acknowledgment of right4 ,and1 as far as
 ,i have taken cognizance of the causes 
of the many failures to which the       

efforts of intelligent men are liable1  
more especially in matters political1   
they seem to me more largely to spring  
from this single error than from all    
others1 that the inquiry into the       
doubtful1 and in some sort inexplicable1
 relations of capability1 chance1       
resistance1 and inconvenience1          
invariably precedes1 even if it do not  
altogether supersede1 the determination 
of what is absolutely desirable and     
just4 ,nor is it any wonder that        
sometimes the too cold calculation of   
our powers should reconcile us too      
easily to our shortcomings1 and even    
lead us into the fatal error of         
supposing that our conjectural utmost is
 in itself well1 or1 in other words1    
that the necessity of offences renders  
them inoffensive4  ,what is true of     
human polity seems to me not less so of 
the distinctively political art of      
,architecture4 ,i have long felt        
convinced of the necessity1 in order to 
its progress1 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 practice1 those 
large principles of right which are     
applicable to every stage and style of  
it4 ,uniting the technical and          
imaginative elements as essentially as  
humanity does soul and body1 it shows   
the same infirmly balanced liability to 
the prevalence of the lower part over   
the higher1 to the interference of the  
constructive1 with the purity and       
simplicity of the reflective1 element4  
,this tendency1 like every other form of
 materialism1 is increasing with the    
advance of the age2 and the only laws   
which resist it1 based upon partial     
precedents1 and already regarded with   
disrespect as decrepit1 if not with     
defiance as tyrannical1 are evidently   
inapplicable to the new forms and       
functions of the art1 which the         
necessities of the day demand4 ,how many
 these necessities may become1 cannot be

 conjectured2 they rise1 strange and    
impatient1 out of every modern shadow of
 change4 ,how far it may be possible to 
meet them without a sacrifice of the    
essential characters of architectural   
art1 cannot be determined by specific   
calculation or observance4 ,there is no 
law1 no principle1 based on past        
practice1 which may not be overthrown in
 a moment1 by the arising of a new      
condition1 or the invention of a new    
material2 and the most rational1 if not 
the only1 mode of averting the danger of
 an utter dissolution of all that is    
systematic and consistent in our        
practice1 or of ancient authority in our
 judgment1 is to cease for a little     
while1 our endeavors to deal with the   
multiplying host of particular abuses1  
restraints1 or requirements2 and        
endeavor to determine1 as the guides of 
every effort1 some constant1 general1   
and irrefragable laws of right--laws1   
which based upon man's nature1 not upon 
his knowledge1 may possess so far the   

unchangeableness of the one1 as that    
neither the increase nor imperfection of
 the other may be able to assault or    
invalidate them4  ,there are1 perhaps1  
no such laws peculiar to any one art4   
,their range necessarily includes the   
entire horizon of man's action4 ,but    
they have modified forms and operations 
belonging to each of his pursuits1 and  
the extent of their authority cannot    
surely be considered as a diminution of 
its weight4 ,those peculiar aspects of  
them which belong to the first of the   
arts1 ,i have endeavored to trace in the
 following pages2 and since1 if truly   
stated1 they must necessarily be1 not   
only safeguards against every form of   
error1 but sources of every measure of  
success1 ,i do not think that ,i claim  
too much for them in calling them the   
,lamps of ,architecture1 nor that it is 
indolence1 in endeavoring to ascertain  
the true nature and nobility of their   
fire1 to refuse to enter into any       
curious or special questioning of the   

innumerable hindrances by which their   
light has been too often distorted or   
overpowered4  ,had this farther         
examination been attempted1 the work    
would have become certainly more        
invidious1 and perhaps less useful1 as  
liable to errors which are avoided by   
the present simplicity of its plan4     
,simple though it be1 its extent is too 
great to admit of any adequate          
accomplishment1 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    
him4 ,both arrangements and nomenclature
 are those of convenience rather than of
 system2 the one is arbitrary and the   
other illogical3 nor is it pretended    
that all1 or even the greater number of1
 the principles necessary to the        
well-being of the art1 are included in  
the inquiry4 ,many1 however1 of         
considerable importance will be found to
 develope themselves incidentally from  

those more specially brought forward4   
,graver apology is necessary for an     
apparently graver fault4 ,it has been   
just said1 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 exertion4     
,but1 more than this1 exactly as we     
reduce to greater simplicity and surety 
any one group of these practical laws1  
we shall find them passing the mere     
condition of connection or analogy1 and 
becoming the actual expression of some  
ultimate nerve or fibre of the mighty   
laws which govern the moral world4      
,however mean or inconsiderable the act1
 there is something in the well doing of
 it1 which has fellowship with the      
noblest forms of manly virtue2 and the  
truth1 decision1 and temperance1 which  
we reverently regard as honorable       
conditions of the spiritual being1 have 
a representative or derivative influence
 over the works of the hand1 the        
movements of the frame1 and the action  

of the intellect4  ,and as thus every   
action1 down even to the drawing of a   
line or utterance of a syllable1 is     
capable of a peculiar dignity in the    
manner of it1 which we sometimes express
 by saying it is truly done 7as a line  
or tone is true71 so also it is capable 
of dignity still higher in the motive of
 it4 ,for there is no action so slight1 
nor so mean1 but it may be done to a    
great purpose1 and ennobled therefore2  
nor is any purpose so great but that    
slight actions may help it1 and may be  
so done as to help it much1 most        
especially that chief of all purposes1  
the pleasing of ,god4 ,hence ,george    
,herbert--    ,a servant with this      
clause     ,makes drudgery divine2      
,who sweeps a room1 as for thy laws1    
,makes that and the action fine4        
,therefore1 in the pressing or          
recommending of any act or manner of    
acting1 we have choice of two separate  
lines of argument3 one based on         
representation of the expediency or     

inherent value of the work1 which is    
often small1 and always disputable2 the 
other based on proofs of its relations  
to the higher orders of human virtue1   
and of its acceptableness1 so far as it 
goes1 to ,him who is the origin of      
virtue4 ,the former is commonly the more
 persuasive method1 the latter assuredly
 the more conclusive2 only it is liable 
to give offence1 as if there were       
irreverence in adducing considerations  
so weighty in treating subjects of small
 temporal importance4 ,i believe1       
however1 that no error is more          
thoughtless than this4 ,we treat ,god   
with irreverence by banishing ,him from 
our thoughts1 not by referring to ,his  
will on slight occasions4 ,his is not   
the finite authority or intelligence    
which cannot be troubled with small     
things4 ,there is nothing so small but  
that we may honor ,god by asking ,his   
guidance of it1 or insult ,him by taking
 it into our own hands2 and what is true
 of the ,deity is equally true of ,his  

,revelation4 ,we use it most reverently 
when most habitually3 our insolence is  
in ever acting without reference to it1 
our true honoring of it is in its       
universal application4 ,i have been     
blamed for the familiar introduction of 
its sacred words4 ,i am grieved to have 
given pain by so doing2 but my excuse   
must be my wish that those words were   
made the ground of every argument and   
the test of every action4 ,we have them 
not often enough on our lips1 nor deeply
 enough in our memories1 nor loyally    
enough in our lives4 ,the snow1 the     
vapor1 and the stormy wind fulfil ,his  
word4 ,are our acts and thoughts lighter
 and wilder than these--that we should  
forget it8  ,i have therefore ventured1 
at the risk of giving to some passages  
the appearance of irreverence1 to take  
the higher line of argument wherever it 
appeared clearly traceable3 and this1 ,i
 would ask the reader especially to     
observe1 not merely because ,i think it 
the best mode of reaching ultimate      

truth1 still less because ,i think the  
subject of more importance than many    
others2 but because every subject should
 surely1 at a period like the present1  
be taken up in this spirit1 or not at   
all4 ,the aspect of the years that      
approach us is as solemn as it is full  
of mystery2 and the weight of evil      
against which we have to contend1 is    
increasing like the letting out of      
water4 ,it is no time for the idleness  
of metaphysics1 or the entertainment of 
the arts4 ,the blasphemies of the earth 
are sounding louder1 and its miseries   
heaped heavier every day2 and if1 in the
 midst of the exertion which every good 
man is called upon to put forth for     
their repression or relief1 it is lawful
 to ask for a thought1 for a moment1 for
 a lifting of the finger1 in any        
direction but that of the immediate and 
overwhelming need1 it is at least       
incumbent upon us to approach the       
questions in which we would engage him1 
in the spirit which has become the habit

 of his mind1 and in the hope that      
neither his zeal nor his usefulness may 
be checked by the withdrawal of an hour 
which has shown him how even those      
things which seemed mechanical1         
indifferent1 or contemptible1 depend for
 their perfection upon the              
acknowledgment of the sacred principles 
of faith1 truth1 and obedience1 for     
which it has become the occupation of   
his life to contend4     ,,the ,,seven  
,,lamps ,,of ,,architecture4            
,,chapter ,i4  ,,the ,,lamp ,,of        
,,sacrifice4   ,i4 ,architecture is the 
art which so disposes and adorns the    
edifices raised by man for whatsoever   
uses1 that the sight of them contributes
 to his mental health1 power and        
pleasure4  ,it is very necessary1 in the
 outset of all inquiry1 to distinguish  
carefully between ,architecture and     
,building4  ,to build1 literally to     
confirm1 is by common understanding to  
put together and adjust the several     
pieces of any edifice or receptacle of a

 considerable size4 ,thus we have church
 building1 house building1 ship         
building1 and coach building4 ,that one 
edifice stands1 another floats1 and     
another is suspended on iron springs1   
makes no difference in the nature of the
 art1 if so it may be called1 of        
building or edification4 ,the persons   
who profess that art1 are severally     
builders1 ecclesiastical1 naval1 or of  
whatever other name their work may      
justify2 but building does not become   
architecture merely by the stability of 
what it erects2 and it is no more       
architecture which raises a church1 or  
which fits it to receive and contain    
with comfort a required number of       
persons occupied in certain religious   
offices1 than it is architecture which  
makes a carriage commodious or a ship   
swift4 ,i do not1 of course1 mean that  
the word is not often1 or even may not  
be legitimately1 applied in such a sense
 7as we speak of naval architecture72   
but in that sense architecture ceases to

 be one of the fine arts1 and it is     
therefore better not to run the risk1 by
 loose nomenclature1 of the confusion   
which would arise1 and has often arisen1
 from extending principles which belong 
altogether to building1 into the sphere 
of architecture proper4  ,let us1       
therefore1 at once confine the name to  
that art which1 taking up and admitting1
 as conditions of its working1 the      
necessities and common uses of the      
building1 impresses on its form certain 
characters venerable or beautiful1 but  
otherwise unnecessary4 ,thus1 ,i        
suppose1 no one would call the laws     
architectural which determine the height
 of a breastwork or the position of a   
bastion4 ,but if to the stone facing of 
that bastion be added an unnecessary    
feature1 as a cable moulding1 that is   
,architecture4 ,it would be similarly   
unreasonable to call battlements or     
machicolations architectural features1  
so long as they consist only of an      
advanced gallery supported on projecting

 masses1 with open intervals beneath for
 offence4 ,but if these projecting      
masses be carved beneath into rounded   
courses1 which are useless1 and if the  
headings of the intervals be arched and 
trefoiled1 which is useless1 that is    
,architecture4 ,it may not be always    
easy to draw the line so sharply and    
simply1 because there are few buildings 
which have not some pretence or color of
 being architectural2 neither can there 
be any architecture which is not based  
on building1 nor any good architecture  
which is not based on good building2 but
 it is perfectly easy and very necessary
 to keep the ideas distinct1 and to     
understand fully that ,architecture     
concerns itself only with those         
characters of an edifice which are above
 and beyond its common use4 ,i say      
common2 because a building raised to the
 honor of ,god1 or in memory of men1 has
 surely a use to which its architectural
 adornment fits it2 but not a use which 
limits1 by any inevitable necessities1  

its plan or details4  ,,ii4             
,architecture proper1 then1 naturally   
arranges itself under five heads3--     
,devotional2 including all buildings    
raised for ,god's service or honor4     
,memorial2 including both monuments and 
tombs4    ,civil2 including every       
edifice raised by nations or societies1 
for         purposes of common business 
or pleasure4    ,military2 including all
 private and public architecture of     
defence4    ,domestic2 including every  
rank and kind of dwelling-place4  ,now1 
of the principles which ,i would        
endeavor to develope1 while all must be1
 as ,i have said1 applicable to every   
stage and style of the art1 some1 and   
especially those which are exciting     
rather than directing1 have necessarily 
fuller reference to one kind of building
 than another2 and among these ,i would 
place first that spirit which1 having   
influence in all1 has nevertheless such 
especial reference to devotional and    
memorial architecture--the spirit which 

offers for such work precious things    
simply because they are precious2 not as
 being necessary to the building1 but as
 an offering1 surrendering1 and         
sacrifice of what is to ourselves       
desirable4 ,it seems to me1 not only    
that this feeling is in most cases      
wholly wanting in those who forward the 
devotional buildings of the present day2
 but that it would even be regarded as  
an ignorant1 dangerous1 or perhaps      
criminal principle by many among us4 ,i 
have not space to enter into dispute of 
all the various objections which may be 
urged against it--they are many and     
spacious2 but ,i may1 perhaps1 ask the  
reader's patience while ,i set down     
those simple reasons which cause me to  
believe it a good and just feeling1 and 
as well-pleasing to ,god and honorable  
in men1 as it is beyond all dispute     
necessary to the production of any great
 work in the kind with which we are at  
present concerned4  ,,iii4 ,now1 first1 
to define this ,lamp1 or ,spirit of     

,sacrifice1 clearly4 ,i have said that  
it prompts us to the offering of        
precious things merely because they are 
precious1 not because they are useful or
 necessary4 ,it is a spirit1 for        
instance1 which of two marbles1 equally 
beautiful1 applicable and durable1 would
 choose the more costly because it was  
so1 and of two kinds of decoration1     
equally effective1 would choose the more
 elaborate because it was so1 in order  
that it might in the same compass       
present more cost and more thought4 ,it 
is therefore most unreasoning and       
enthusiastic1 and perhaps best          
negatively defined1 as the opposite of  
the prevalent feeling of modern times1  
which desires to produce the largest    
results at the least cost4  ,of this    
feeling1 then1 there are two distinct   
forms3 the first1 the wish to exercise  
self-denial for the sake of             
self-discipline merely1 a wish acted    
upon in the abandonment of things loved 
or desired1 there being no direct call  

or purpose to be answered by so doing2  
and the second1 the desire to honor or  
please some one else by the costliness  
of the sacrifice4 ,the practice is1 in  
the first case1 either private or       
public2 but most frequently1 and perhaps
 most properly1 private2 while1 in the  
latter case1 the act is commonly1 and   
with greatest advantage1 public4 ,now1  
it cannot but at first appear futile to 
assert the expediency of self-denial for
 its own sake1 when1 for so many sakes1 
it is every day necessary to a far      
greater degree than any of us practise  
it4 ,but ,i believe it is just because  
we do not enough acknowledge or         
contemplate it as a good in itself1 that
 we are apt to fail in its duties when  
they become imperative1 and to          
calculate1 with some partiality1 whether
 the good proposed to others measures or
 warrants the amount of grievance to    
ourselves1 instead of accepting with    
gladness the opportunity of sacrifice as
 a personal advantage4 ,be this as it   

may1 it is not necessary to insist upon 
the matter here2 since there are always 
higher and more useful channels of      
self-sacrifice1 for those who choose to 
practise it1 than any connected with the
 arts4  ,while in its second branch1    
that which is especially concerned with 
the arts1 the justice of the feeling is 
still more doubtful2 it depends on our  
answer to the broad question1 ,can the  
,deity be indeed honored by the         
presentation to ,him of any material    
objects of value1 or by any direction of
 zeal or wisdom which is not immediately
 beneficial to men8  ,for1 observe1 it  
is not now the question whether the     
fairness and majesty of a building may  
or may not answer any moral purpose2 it 
is not the result of labor in any sort  
of which we are speaking1 but the bare  
and mere costliness--the substance and  
labor and time themselves3 are these1 we
 ask1 independently of their result1    
acceptable offerings to ,god1 and       
considered by ,him as doing ,him honor8 

,so long as we refer this question to   
the decision of feeling1 or of          
conscience1 or of reason merely1 it will
 be contradictorily or imperfectly      
answered2 it admits of entire answer    
only when we have met another and a far 
different question1 whether the ,bible  
be indeed one book or two1 and whether  
the character of ,god revealed in the   
,old ,testament be other than ,his      
character revealed in the ,new4  ,,iv4  
,now1 it is a most secure truth1 that1  
although the particular ordinances      
divinely appointed for special purposes 
at any given period of man's history1   
may be by the same divine authority     
abrogated at another1 it is impossible  
that any character of ,god1 appealed to 
or described in any ordinance past or   
present1 can ever be changed1 or        
understood as changed1 by the abrogation
 of that ordinance4 ,god is one and the 
same1 and is pleased or displeased by   
the same things for ever1 although one  
part of ,his pleasure may be expressed  

at one time rather than another1 and    
although the mode in which ,his pleasure
 is to be consulted may be by ,him      
graciously modified to the circumstances
 of men4 ,thus1 for instance1 it was    
necessary that1 in order to the         
understanding by man of the scheme of   
,redemption1 that scheme should be      
foreshown from the beginning by the type
 of bloody sacrifice4 ,but ,god had no  
more pleasure in such sacrifice in the  
time of ,moses than ,he has now2 ,he    
never accepted as a propitiation for sin
 any sacrifice but the single one in    
prospective2 and that we may not        
entertain any shadow of doubt on this   
subject1 the worthlessness of all other 
sacrifice than this is proclaimed at the
 very time when typical sacrifice was   
most imperatively demanded4 ,god was a  
spirit1 and could be worshipped only in 
spirit and in truth1 as singly and      
exclusively when every day brought its  
claim of typical and material service or
 offering1 as now when ,he asks for none

 but that of the heart4  ,so1 therefore1
 it is a most safe and sure principle   
that1 if in the manner of performing any
 rite at any time1 circumstances can be 
traced which we are either told1 or may 
legitimately conclude1 pleased ,god at  
that time1 those same circumstances will
 please ,him at all times1 in the       
performance of all rites or offices to  
which they may be attached in like      
manner2 unless it has been afterwards   
revealed that1 for some special purpose1
 it is now ,his will that such          
circumstances should be withdrawn4 ,and 
this argument will have all the more    
force if it can be shown that such      
conditions were not essential to the    
completeness of the rite in its human   
uses and bearings1 and only were added  
to it as being in themselves pleasing to
 ,god4  ,v4 ,now1 was it necessary to   
the completeness1 as a type1 of the     
,levitical sacrifice1 or to its utility 
as an explanation of divine purposes1   
that it should cost anything to the     

person in whose behalf it was offered8  
,on the contrary1 the sacrifice which it
 foreshowed was to be ,god's free gift2 
and the cost of1 or difficulty of       
obtaining1 the sacrificial type1 could  
only render that type in a measure      
obscure1 and less expressive of the     
offering which ,god would in the end    
provide for all men4 ,yet this          
costliness was generally a condition of 
the acceptableness of the sacrifice4    
,neither will ,i offer unto the ,lord my
 ,god of that which doth cost me        
nothing4,b ,that costliness1 therefore1 
must be an acceptable condition in all  
human offerings at all times2 for if it 
was pleasing to ,god once1 it must      
please ,him always1 unless directly     
forbidden by ,him afterwards1 which it  
has never been4      ,b #b ,sam4 xxiv4  
#bd4 ,deut4 xvi4 #af1 #ag4  ,again1 was 
it necessary to the typical perfection  
of the ,levitical offering1 that it     
should be the best of the flock8        
,doubtless the spotlessness of the      

sacrifice renders it more expressive to 
the ,christian mind2 but was it because 
so expressive that it was actually1 and 
in so many words1 demanded by ,god8 ,not
 at all4 ,it was demanded by ,him       
expressly on the same grounds on which  
an earthly governor would demand it1 as 
a testimony of respect4 ,offer it now   
unto thy governor4,c ,and the less      
valuable offering was rejected1 not     
because it did not image ,christ1 nor   
fulfil the purposes of sacrifice1 but   
because it indicated a feeling that     
would grudge the best of its possessions
 to ,him who gave them2 and because it  
was a bold dishonoring of ,god in the   
sight of man4 ,whence it may be         
infallibly concluded1 that in whatever  
offerings we may now see reason to      
present unto ,god 7,i say not what these
 may be71 a condition of their          
acceptableness will be now1 as it was   
then1 that they should be the best of   
their kind4      ,c ,mal4 i4 #h4  ,,vi4 
,but farther1 was it necessary to the   

carrying out of the ,mosaical system1   
that there should be either art or      
splendor in the form or services of the 
tabernacle or temple8 ,was it necessary 
to the perfection of any one of their   
typical offices1 that there should be   
that hanging of blue1 and purple1 and   
scarlet8 those taches of brass and      
sockets of silver8 that working in cedar
 and overlaying with gold8 ,one thing at
 least is evident3 there was a deep and 
awful danger in it2 a danger that the   
,god whom they so worshipped1 might be  
associated in the minds of the serfs of 
,egypt with the gods to whom they had   
seen similar gifts offered and similar  
honors paid4 ,the probability1 in our   
times1 of fellowship with the feelings  
of the idolatrous ,romanist is          
absolutely as nothing compared with the 
danger to the ,israelite of a sympathy  
with the idolatrous ,egyptian2#a no     
speculative1 no unproved danger2 but    
proved fatally by their fall during a   
month's abandonment to their own will2 a

 fall into the most servile idolatry2   
yet marked by such offerings to their   
idol as their leader was1 in the close  
sequel1 instructed to bid them offer to 
,god4 ,this danger was imminent1        
perpetual1 and of the most awful kind3  
it was the one against which ,god made  
provision1 not only by commandments1 by 
threatenings1 by promises1 the most     
urgent1 repeated1 and impressive2 but by
 temporary ordinances of a severity so  
terrible as almost to dim for a time1 in
 the eyes of ,his people1 ,his attribute
 of mercy4 ,the principal object of     
every instituted law of that ,theocracy1
 of every judgment sent forth in its    
vindication1 was to mark to the people  
,his hatred of idolatry2 a hatred       
written under their advancing steps1 in 
the blood of the ,canaanite1 and more   
sternly still in the darkness of their  
own desolation1 when the children and   
the sucklings swooned in the streets of 
,jerusalem1 and the lion tracked his    
prey in the dust of ,samaria4,d ,yet    

against this mortal danger provision was
 not made in one way 7to man's thoughts 
the simplest1 the most natural1 the most
 effective71 by withdrawing from the    
worship of the ,divine ,being whatever  
could delight the sense1 or shape the   
imagination1 or limit the idea of ,deity
 to place4 ,this one way ,god refused1  
demanding for ,himself such honors1 and 
accepting for ,himself such local       
dwelling1 as had been paid and dedicated
 to idol gods by heathen worshippers2   
and for what reason8 ,was the glory of  
the tabernacle necessary to set forth or
 image ,his divine glory to the minds of
 ,his people8 ,what6 purple or scarlet  
necessary to the people who had seen the
 great river of ,egypt run scarlet to   
the sea1 under ,his condemnation8 ,what6
 golden lamp and cherub necessary for   
those who had seen the fires of heaven  
falling like a mantle on ,mount ,sinai1 
and its golden courts opened to receive 
their mortal lawgiver8 ,what6 silver    
clasp and fillet necessary when they had

 seen the silver waves of the ,red ,sea 
clasp in their arched hollows the       
corpses of the horse and his rider8     
,nay--not so4 ,there was but one reason1
 and that an eternal one2 that as the   
covenant that ,he made with men was     
accompanied with some external sign of  
its continuance1 and of ,his remembrance
 of it1 so the acceptance of that       
covenant might be marked and signified  
by use1 in some external sign of their  
love and obedience1 and surrender of    
themselves and theirs to ,his will2 and 
that their gratitude to ,him1 and       
continual remembrance of ,him1 might    
have at once their expression and their 
enduring testimony in the presentation  
to ,him1 not only of the firstlings of  
the herd and fold1 not only of the      
fruits of the earth and the tithe of    
time1 but of all treasures of wisdom and
 beauty2 of the thought that invents1   
and the hand that labors2 of wealth of  
wood1 and weight of stone2 of the       
strength of iron1 and of the light of   

gold4      ,d ,lam4 ii4 #aa4 #b ,kings  
xvii4 #be4  ,and let us not now lose    
sight of this broad and unabrogated     
principle--,i might say1 incapable of   
being abrogated1 so long as men shall   
receive earthly gifts from ,god4 ,of all
 that they have ,his tithe must be      
rendered to ,him1 or in so far and in so
 much ,he is forgotten3 of the skill and
 of the treasure1 of the strength and of
 the mind1 of the time and of the toil1 
offering must be made reverently2 and if
 there be any difference between the    
,levitical and the ,christian offering1 
it is that the latter may be just so    
much the wider in its range as it is    
less typical in its meaning1 as it is   
thankful instead of sacrificial4 ,there 
can be no excuse accepted because the   
,deity does not now visibly dwell in    
,his temple2 if ,he is invisible it is  
only through our failing faith3 nor any 
excuse because other calls are more     
immediate or more sacred2 this ought to 
be done1 and not the other left undone4 

,yet this objection1 as frequent as     
feeble1 must be more specifically       
answered4  ,,vii4 ,it has been said--it 
ought always to be said1 for it is      
true--that a better and more honorable  
offering is made to our ,master in      
ministry to the poor1 in extending the  
knowledge of ,his name1 in the practice 
of the virtues by which that name is    
hallowed1 than in material presents to  
,his temple4 ,assuredly it is so3 woe to
 all who think that any other kind or   
manner of offering may in any wise take 
the place of these6 ,do the people need 
place to pray1 and calls to hear ,his   
word8 ,then it is no time for smoothing 
pillars or carving pulpits2 let us have 
enough first of walls and roofs4 ,do the
 people need teaching from house to     
house1 and bread from day to day8 ,then 
they are deacons and ministers we want1 
not architects4 ,i insist on this1 ,i   
plead for this2 but let us examine      
ourselves1 and see if this be indeed the
 reason for our backwardness in the     

lesser work4 ,the question is not       
between ,god's house and ,his poor3 it  
is not between ,god's house and ,his    
,gospel4 ,it is between ,god's house and
 ours4 ,have we no tesselated colors on 
our floors8 no frescoed fancies on our  
roofs8 no niched statuary in our        
corridors8 no gilded furniture in our   
chambers8 no costly stones in our       
cabinets8 ,has even the tithe of these  
been offered8 ,they are1 or they ought  
to be1 the signs that enough has been   
devoted to the great purposes of human  
stewardship1 and that there remains to  
us what we can spend in luxury2 but     
there is a greater and prouder luxury   
than this selfish one--that of bringing 
a portion of such things as these into  
sacred service1 and presenting them for 
a memorial,e that our pleasure as well  
as our toil has been hallowed by the    
remembrance of ,him who gave both the   
strength and the reward4 ,and until this
 has been done1 ,i do not see how such  
possessions can be retained in          

happiness4 ,i do not understand the     
feeling which would arch our own gates  
and pave our own thresholds1 and leave  
the church with its narrow door and     
foot-worn sill2 the feeling which       
enriches our own chambers with all      
manner of costliness1 and endures the   
bare wall and mean compass of the       
temple4 ,there is seldom even so severe 
a choice to be made1 seldom so much     
self-denial to be exercised4 ,there are 
isolated cases1 in which men's happiness
 and mental activity depend upon a      
certain degree of luxury in their       
houses2 but then this is true luxury1   
felt and tasted1 and profited by4 ,in   
the plurality of instances nothing of   
the kind is attempted1 nor can be       
enjoyed2 men's average resources cannot 
reach it2 and that which they can reach1
 gives them no pleasure1 and might be   
spared4 ,it will be seen1 in the course 
of the following chapters1 that ,i am no
 advocate for meanness of private       
habitation4 ,i would fain introduce into

 it all magnificence1 care1 and beauty1 
where they are possible2 but ,i would   
not have that useless expense in        
unnoticed fineries or formalities2      
cornicings of ceilings and graining of  
doors1 and fringing of curtains1 and    
thousands such2 things which have become
 foolishly and apathetically            
habitual--things on whose common        
appliance hang whole trades1 to which   
there never yet belonged the blessing of
 giving one ray of real pleasure1 or    
becoming of the remotest or most        
contemptible use--things which cause    
half the expense of life1 and destroy   
more than half its comfort1 manliness1  
respectability1 freshness1 and facility4
 ,i speak from experience3 ,i know what 
it is to live in a cottage with a deal  
floor and roof1 and a hearth of mica    
slate2 and ,i know it to be in many     
respects healthier and happier than     
living between a ,turkey carpet and     
gilded ceiling1 beside a steel grate and
 polished fender4 ,i do not say that    

such things have not their place and    
propriety2 but ,i say this1             
emphatically1 that the tenth part of the
 expense which is sacrificed in domestic
 vanities1 if not absolutely and        
meaninglessly lost in domestic          
discomforts1 and incumbrances1 would1 if
 collectively offered and wisely        
employed1 build a marble church for     
every town in ,england2 such a church as
 it should be a joy and a blessing even 
to pass near in our daily ways and      
walks1 and as it would bring the light  
into the eyes to see from afar1 lifting 
its fair height above the purple crowd  
of humble roofs4      ,e ,num4 xxxi4    
#ed4 ,psa4 lxxvi4 #aa4  ,,viii4 ,i have 
said for every town3 ,i do not want a   
marble church for every village2 nay1 ,i
 do not want marble churches at all for 
their own sake1 but for the sake of the 
spirit that would build them4 ,the      
church has no need of any visible       
splendors2 her power is independent of  
them1 her purity is in some degree      

opposed to them4 ,the simplicity of a   
pastoral sanctuary is lovelier than the 
majesty of an urban temple2 and it may  
be more than questioned whether1 to the 
people1 such majesty has ever been the  
source of any increase of effective     
piety2 but to the builders it has been1 
and must ever be4 ,it is not the church 
we want1 but the sacrifice2 not the     
emotion of admiration1 but the act of   
adoration3 not the gift1 but the        
giving4#b ,and see how much more charity
 the full understanding of this might   
admit1 among classes of men of naturally
 opposite feelings2 and how much more   
nobleness in the work4 ,there is no need
 to offend by importunate1              
self-proclaiming splendor4 ,your gift   
may be given in an unpresuming way4 ,cut
 one or two shafts out of a porphyry    
whose preciousness those only would know
 who would desire it to be so used2 add 
another month's labor to the            
undercutting of a few capitals1 whose   
delicacy will not be seen nor loved by  

one beholder of ten thousand2 see that  
the simplest masonry of the edifice be  
perfect and substantial2 and to those   
who regard such things1 their witness   
will be clear and impressive2 to those  
who regard them not1 all will at least  
be inoffensive4 ,but do not think the   
feeling itself a folly1 or the act      
itself useless4 ,of what use was that   
dearly-bought water of the well of      
,bethlehem with which the ,king of      
,israel slaked the dust of              
,adullam8--yet was not thus better than 
if he had drunk it8 ,of what use was    
that passionate act of ,christian       
sacrifice1 against which1 first uttered 
by the false tongue1 the very objection 
we would now conquer took a sullen tone 
for ever8,f ,so also let us not ask of  
what use our offering is to the church3 
it is at least better for us than if it 
had been retained for ourselves4 ,it may
 be better for others also3 there is1 at
 any rate1 a chance of this2 though we  
must always fearfully and widely shun   

the thought that the magnificence of the
 temple can materially add to the       
efficiency of the worship or to the     
power of the ministry4 ,whatever we do1 
or whatever we offer1 let it not        
interfere with the simplicity of the    
one1 or abate1 as if replacing1 the zeal
 of the other4 ,that is the abuse and   
fallacy of ,romanism1 by which the true 
spirit of ,christian offering is        
directly contradicted4 ,the treatment of
 the ,papists' temple is eminently      
exhibitory2 it is surface work          
throughout2 and the danger and evil of  
their church decoration lie1 not in its 
reality--not in the true wealth and art 
of it1 of which the lower people are    
never cognizant--but in its tinsel and  
glitter1 in the gilding of the shrine   
and painting of the image1 in embroidery
 of dingy robes and crowding of imitated
 gems2 all this being frequently thrust 
forward to the concealment of what is   
really good or great in their           
buildings4#c ,of an offering of         

gratitude which is neither to be        
exhibited nor rewarded1 which is neither
 to win praise nor purchase salvation1  
the ,romanist 7as such7 has no          
conception4      ,f ,john xii4 #e4      
,,ix4 ,while1 however1 ,i would         
especially deprecate the imputation of  
any other acceptableness or usefulness  
to the gift itself than that which it   
receives from the spirit of its         
presentation1 it may be well to observe1
 that there is a lower advantage which  
never fails to accompany a dutiful      
observance of any right abstract        
principle4 ,while the first fruits of   
his possessions were required from the  
,israelite as a testimony of fidelity1  
the payment of those first fruits was   
nevertheless rewarded1 and that         
connectedly and specifically1 by the    
increase of those possessions4 ,wealth1 
and length of days1 and peace1 were the 
promised and experienced rewards of his 
offering1 though they were not to be the
 objects of it4 ,the tithe paid into the

 storehouse was the expressed condition 
of the blessing which there should not  
be room enough to receive4 ,and it will 
be thus always3 ,god never forgets any  
work or labor of love2 and whatever it  
may be of which the first and best      
proportions or powers have been         
presented to ,him1 he will multiply and 
increase sevenfold4 ,therefore1 though  
it may not be necessarily the interest  
of religion to admit the service of the 
arts1 the arts will never flourish until
 they have been primarily devoted to    
that service--devoted1 both by architect
 and employer2 by the one in scrupulous1
 earnest1 affectionate design2 by the   
other in expenditure at least more      
frank1 at least less calculating1 than  
that which he would admit in the        
indulgence of his own private feelings4 
,let this principle be but once fairly  
acknowledged among us2 and however it   
may be chilled and repressed in         
practice1 however feeble may be its real
 influence1 however the sacredness of it

 may be diminished by counter-workings  
of vanity and self-interest1 yet its    
mere acknowledgment would bring a       
reward2 and with our present            
accumulation of means and of intellect1 
there would be such an impulse and      
vitality given to art as it has not felt
 since the thirteenth century4 ,and ,i  
do not assert this as other than a      
national consequence3 ,i should1 indeed1
 expect a larger measure of every great 
and spiritual faculty to be always given
 where those faculties had been wisely  
and religiously employed2 but the       
impulse to which ,i refer1 would be1    
humanly speaking1 certain2 and would    
naturally result from obedience to the  
two great conditions enforced by the    
,spirit of ,sacrifice1 first1 that we   
should in everything do our best2 and1  
secondly1 that we should consider       
increase of apparent labor as an        
increase of beauty in the building4 ,a  
few practical deductions from these two 
conditions1 and ,i have done4  ,x4 ,for 

the first3 it is alone enough to secure 
success1 and it is for want of observing
 it that we continually fail4 ,we are   
none of us so good architects as to be  
able to work habitually beneath our     
strength2 and yet there is not a        
building that ,i know of1 lately raised1
 wherein it is not sufficiently evident 
that neither architect nor builder has  
done his best4 ,it is the especial      
characteristic of modern work4 ,all old 
work nearly has been hard work4 ,it may 
be the hard work of children1 of        
barbarians1 of rustics2 but it is always
 their utmost4 ,ours has as constantly  
the look of money's worth1 of a stopping
 short wherever and whenever we can1 of 
a lazy compliance with low conditions2  
never of a fair putting forth of our    
strength4 ,let us have done with this   
kind of work at once3 cast off every    
temptation to it3 do not let us degrade 
ourselves voluntarily1 and then mutter  
and mourn over our short comings2 let us
 confess our poverty or our parsimony1  

but not belie our human intellect4 ,it  
is not even a question of how much we   
are to do1 but of how it is to be done2 
it is not a question of doing more1 but 
of doing better4 ,do not let us boss our
 roofs with wretched1 half-worked1      
blunt-edged rosettes2 do not let us     
flank our gates with rigid imitations of
 mediaeval statuary4 ,such things are   
mere insults to common sense1 and only  
unfit us for feeling the nobility of    
their prototypes4 ,we have so much1     
suppose1 to be spent in decoration2 let 
us go to the ,flaxman of his time1      
whoever he may be1 and bid him carve for
 us a single statue1 frieze or capital1 
or as many as we can afford1 compelling 
upon him the one condition1 that they   
shall be the best he can do2 place them 
where they will be of the most value1   
and be content4 ,our other capitals may 
be mere blocks1 and our other niches    
empty4 ,no matter3 better our work      
unfinished than all bad4 ,it may be that
 we do not desire ornament of so high an

 order2 choose1 then1 a less developed  
style1 also1 if you will1 rougher       
material2 the law which we are enforcing
 requires only that what we pretend to  
do and to give1 shall both be the best  
of their kind2 choose1 therefore1 the   
,norman hatchet work1 instead of the    
,flaxman frieze and statue1 but let it  
be the best hatchet work2 and if you    
cannot afford marble1 use ,caen stone1  
but from the best bed2 and if not stone1
 brick1 but the best brick2 preferring  
always what is good of a lower order of 
work or material1 to what is bad of a   
higher2 for this is not only the way to 
improve every kind of work1 and to put  
every kind of material to better use2   
but it is more honest and unpretending1 
and is in harmony with other just1      
upright1 and manly principles1 whose    
range we shall have presently to take   
into consideration4  ,,xi4 ,the other   
condition which we had to notice1 was   
the value of the appearance of labor    
upon architecture4 ,i have spoken of    

this before2,g and it is1 indeed1 one of
 the most frequent sources of pleasure  
which belong to the art1 always1        
however1 within certain somewhat        
remarkable limits4 ,for it does not at  
first appear easily to be explained why 
labor1 as represented by materials of   
value1 should1 without sense of wrong or
 error1 bear being wasted2 while the    
waste of actual workmanship is always   
painful1 so soon as it is apparent4 ,but
 so it is1 that1 while precious         
materials may1 with a certain profusion 
and negligence1 be employed for the     
magnificence of what is seldom seen1 the
 work of man cannot be carelessly and   
idly bestowed1 without an immediate     
sense of wrong2 as if the strength of   
the living creature were never intended 
by its ,maker to be sacrificed in vain1 
though it is well for us sometimes to   
part with what we esteem precious of    
substance1 as showing that in such a    
service it becomes but dross and dust4  
,and in the nice balance between the    

straitening of effort or enthusiasm on  
the one hand1 and vainly casting it away
 upon the other1 there are more         
questions than can be met by any but    
very just and watchful feeling4 ,in     
general it is less the mere loss of     
labor that offends us1 than the lack of 
judgment implied by such loss2 so that  
if men confessedly work for work's sake1
 and it does not appear that they are   
ignorant where or how to make their     
labor tell1 we shall not be grossly     
offended4 ,on the contrary1 we shall be 
pleased if the work be lost in carrying 
out a principle1 or in avoiding a       
deception4 ,it1 indeed1 is a law        
properly belonging to another part of   
our subject1 but it may be allowably    
stated here1 that1 whenever1 by the     
construction of a building1 some parts  
of it are hidden from the eye which are 
the continuation of others bearing some 
consistent ornament1 it is not well that
 the ornament should cease in the parts 
concealed2 credit is given for it1 and  

it should not be deceptively withdrawn3 
as1 for instance1 in the sculpture of   
the backs of the statues of a temple    
pediment2 never1 perhaps1 to be seen1   
but yet not lawfully to be left         
unfinished4 ,and so in the working out  
of ornaments in dark concealed places1  
in which it is best to err on the side  
of completion2 and in the carrying round
 of string courses1 and other such      
continuous work2 not but that they may  
stop sometimes1 on the point of going   
into some palpably impenetrable recess1 
but then let them stop boldly and       
markedly1 on some distinct terminal     
ornament1 and never be supposed to exist
 where they do not4 ,the arches of the  
towers which flank the transepts of     
,rouen ,cathedral have rosette ornaments
 on their spandrils1 on the three       
visible sides2 none on the side towards 
the roof4 ,the right of this is rather a
 nice point for question4      ,g ,mod4 
,painters1 ,part ,i4 ,sec4 #a1 ,chap4   
#c4  ,,xii4 ,visibility1 however1 we    

must remember1 depends1 not only on     
situation1 but on distance2 and there is
 no way in which work is more painfully 
and unwisely lost than in its over      
delicacy on parts distant from the eye4 
,here1 again1 the principle of honesty  
must govern our treatment3 we must not  
work any kind of ornament which is1     
perhaps1 to cover the whole building 7or
 at least to occur on all parts of it7  
delicately where it is near the eye1 and
 rudely where it is removed from it4    
,that is trickery and dishonesty4       
,consider1 first1 what kinds of         
ornaments will tell in the distance and 
what near1 and so distribute them1      
keeping such as by their nature are     
delicate1 down near the eye1 and        
throwing the bold and rough kinds of    
work to the top2 and if there be any    
kind which is to be both near and far   
off1 take care that it be as boldly and 
rudely wrought where it is well seen as 
where it is distant1 so that the        
spectator may know exactly what it is1  

and what it is worth4 ,thus chequered   
patterns1 and in general such ornaments 
as common workmen can execute1 may      
extend over the whole building2 but     
bas-reliefs1 and fine niches and        
capitals1 should be kept down1 and the  
common sense of this will always give a 
building dignity1 even though there be  
some abruptness or awkwardness1 in the  
resulting arrangements4 ,thus at ,san   
,zeno at ,verona1 the bas-reliefs1 full 
of incident and interest are confined to
 a parallelogram of the front1 reaching 
to the height of the capitals of the    
columns of the porch4 ,above these1 we  
find a simple though most lovely1 little
 arcade2 and above that1 only blank     
wall1 with square face shafts4 ,the     
whole effect is tenfold grander and     
better than if the entire facade had    
been covered with bad work1 and may     
serve for an example of the way to place
 little where we cannot afford much4    
,so1 again1 the transept gates of       
,rouen,h are covered with delicate      

bas-reliefs 7of which ,i shall speak at 
greater length presently7 up to about   
once and a half a man's height2 and     
above that come the usual and more      
visible statues and niches4 ,so in the  
campanile at ,florence1 the circuit of  
bas-reliefs is on its lowest story2     
above that come its statues2 and above  
them all its pattern mosaic1 and twisted
 columns1 exquisitely finished1 like all
 ,italian work of the time1 but still1  
in the eye of the ,florentine1 rough and
 commonplace by comparison with the     
bas-reliefs4 ,so generally the most     
delicate niche work and best mouldings  
of the ,french ,gothic are in gates and 
low windows well within sight2 although1
 it being the very spirit of that style 
to trust to its exuberance for effect1  
there is occasionally a burst upwards   
and blossoming unrestrainably to the    
sky1 as in the pediment of the west     
front of ,rouen1 and in the recess of   
the rose window behind it1 where there  
are some most elaborate                 

flower-mouldings1 all but invisible from
 below1 and only adding a general       
enrichment to the deep shadows that     
relieve the shafts of the advanced      
pediment4 ,it is observable1 however1   
that this very work is bad flamboyant1  
and has corrupt renaissance characters  
in its detail as well as use2 while in  
the earlier and grander north and south 
gates1 there is a very noble            
proportioning of the work to the        
distance1 the niches and statues which  
crown the northern one1 at a height of  
about one hundred feet from the ground1 
being alike colossal and simple2 visibly
 so from below1 so as to induce no      
deception1 and yet honestly and         
well-finished above1 and all that they  
are expected to be2 the features very   
beautiful1 full of expression1 and as   
delicately wrought as any work of the   
period4      ,h ,henceforward1 for the  
sake of convenience1 when ,i name any   
cathedral town in this manner1 let me be
 understood to speak of its             

cathedral church4  ,,xiii4 ,it is to be 
remembered1 however1 that while the     
ornaments in every fine ancient         
building1 without exception so far as ,i
 am aware1 are most delicate at the     
base1 they are often in greater         
effective quantity on the upper parts4  
,in high towers this is perfectly       
natural and right1 the solidity of the  
foundation being as necessary as the    
division and penetration of the         
superstructure2 hence the lighter work  
and richly pierced crowns of late       
,gothic towers4 ,the campanile of       
,giotto at ,florence1 already alluded   
to1 is an exquisite instance of the     
union of the two principles1 delicate   
bas-reliefs adorning its massy          
foundation1 while the open tracery of   
the upper windows attracts the eye by   
its slender intricacy1 and a rich       
cornice crowns the whole4 ,in such truly
 fine cases of this disposition the     
upper work is effective by its quantity 
and intricacy only1 as the lower        

portions by delicacy2 so also in the    
,tour de ,beurre at ,rouen1 where1      
however1 the detail is massy throughout1
 subdividing into rich meshes as it     
ascends4 ,in the bodies of buildings the
 principle is less safe1 but its        
discussion is not connected with our    
present subject4  ,,xiv4 ,finally1 work 
may be wasted by being too good for its 
material1 or too fine to bear exposure2 
and this1 generally a characteristic of 
late1 especially of renaissance1 work1  
is perhaps the worst fault of all4 ,i do
 not know anything more painful or      
pitiful than the kind of ivory carving  
with which the ,certosa of ,pavia1 and  
part of the ,colleone sepulchral chapel 
at ,bergamo1 and other such buildings1  
are incrusted1 of which it is not       
possible so much as to think without    
exhaustion2 and a heavy sense of the    
misery it would be1 to be forced to look
 at it at all4 ,and this is not from the
 quantity of it1 nor because it is bad  
work--much of it is inventive and able2 

but because it looks as if it were only 
fit to be put in inlaid cabinets and    
velveted caskets1 and as if it could not
 bear one drifting shower or gnawing    
frost4 ,we are afraid for it1 anxious   
about it1 and tormented by it2 and we   
feel that a massy shaft and a bold      
shadow would be worth it all4           
,nevertheless1 even in cases like these1
 much depends on the accomplishment of  
the great ends of decoration4 ,if the   
ornament does its duty--if it is        
ornament1 and its points of shade and   
light tell in the general effect1 we    
shall not be offended by finding that   
the sculptor in his fulness of fancy has
 chosen to give much more than these    
mere points of light1 and has composed  
them of groups of figures4 ,but if the  
ornament does not answer its purpose1 if
 it have no distant1 no truly decorative
 power2 if generally seen it be a mere  
incrustation and meaningless roughness1 
we shall only be chagrined by finding   
when we look close1 that the            

incrustation has cost years of labor and
 has millions of figures and histories  
in it and would be the better of being  
seen through a ,stanhope lens4 ,hence   
the greatness of the northern ,gothic as
 contrasted with the latest ,italian4   
,it reaches nearly the same extreme of  
detail2 but it never loses sight of its 
architectural purpose1 never fails in   
its decorative power2 not a leaflet in  
it but speaks1 and speaks far off1 too2 
and so long as this be the case1 there  
is no limit to the luxuriance in which  
such work may legitimately and nobly be 
bestowed4    ,illustration3 ,,plate     
,i4--7,page #cc--,vol4 ,v7   ,,ornaments
 ,,from ,,rouen1 ,,st4 ,,lo1 ,,and      
,,venice4  ,,xv4 ,no limit3 it is one of
 the affectations of architects to speak
 of overcharged ornament4 ,ornament     
cannot be overcharged if it be good1 and
 is always overcharged when it is bad4  
,i have given1 on the opposite page     
7fig4 #a71 one of the smallest niches of
 the central gate of ,rouen4 ,that gate 

,i suppose to be the most exquisite     
piece of pure flamboyant work existing2 
for though ,i have spoken of the upper  
portions1 especially the receding       
window1 as degenerate1 the gate itself  
is of a purer period1 and has hardly any
 renaissance taint4 ,there are four     
strings of these niches 7each with two  
figures beneath it7 round the porch1    
from the ground to the top of the arch1 
with three intermediate rows of larger  
niches1 far more elaborate2 besides the 
six principal canopies of each outer    
pier4 ,the total number of the          
subordinate niches alone1 each worked   
like that in the plate1 and each with a 
different pattern of traceries in each  
compartment1 is one hundred and         
seventy-six4#d ,yet in all this ornament
 there is not one cusp1 one finial that 
is useless--not a stroke of the chisel  
is in vain2 the grace and luxuriance of 
it all are visible--sensible            
rather--even to the uninquiring eye2 and
 all its minuteness does not diminish   

the majesty1 while it increases the     
mystery1 of the noble and unbroken      
vault4 ,it is not less the boast of some
 styles that they can bear ornament1    
than of others that they can do without 
it2 but we do not often enough reflect  
that those very styles1 of so haughty   
simplicity1 owe part of their           
pleasurableness to contrast1 and would  
be wearisome if universal4 ,they are but
 the rests and monotones of the art2 it 
is to its far happier1 far higher1      
exaltation that we owe those fair fronts
 of variegated mosaic1 charged with wild
 fancies and dark hosts of imagery1     
thicker and quainter than ever filled   
the depth of midsummer dream2 those     
vaulted gates1 trellised with close     
leaves2 those window-labyrinths of      
twisted tracery and starry light2 those 
misty masses of multitudinous pinnacle  
and diademed tower2 the only witnesses1 
perhaps that remain to us of the faith  
and fear of nations4 ,all else for which
 the builders sacrificed1 has passed    

away--all their living interests1 and   
aims1 and achievements4 ,we know not for
 what they labored1 and we see no       
evidence of their reward4 ,victory1     
wealth1 authority1 happiness--all have  
departed1 though bought by many a bitter
 sacrifice4 ,but of them1 and their     
life1 and their toil upon the earth1 one
 reward1 one evidence1 is left to us in 
those gray heaps of deep-wrought stone4 
,they have taken with them to the grave 
their powers1 their honors1 and their   
errors2 but they have left us their     
adoration4     ,,chapter ,,ii4  ,,the   
,,lamp ,,of ,,truth4   ,i4 ,there is a  
marked likeness between the virtues of  
man and the enlightenment of the globe  
he inhabits--the same diminishing       
gradation in vigor up to the limits of  
their domains1 the same essential       
separation from their contraries--the   
same twilight at the meeting of the two3
 a something wider belt than the line   
where the world rolls into night1 that  
strange twilight of the virtues2 that   

dusky debateable land1 wherein zeal     
becomes impatience1 and temperance      
becomes severity1 and justice becomes   
cruelty1 and faith superstition1 and    
each and all vanish into gloom4         
,nevertheless1 with the greater number  
of them1 though their dimness increases 
gradually1 we may mark the moment of    
their sunset2 and1 happily1 may turn the
 shadow back by the way by which it had 
gone down3 but for one1 the line of the 
horizon is irregular and undefined2 and 
this1 too1 the very equator and girdle  
of them all--,truth2 that only one of   
which there are no degrees1 but breaks  
and rents continually2 that pillar of   
the earth1 yet a cloudy pillar2 that    
golden and narrow line1 which the very  
powers and virtues that lean upon it    
bend1 which policy and prudence conceal1
 which kindness and courtesy modify1    
which courage overshadows with his      
shield1 imagination covers with her     
wings1 and charity dims with her tears4 
,how difficult must the maintenance of  

that authority be1 which1 while it has  
to restrain the hostility of all the    
worst principles of man1 has also to    
restrain the disorders of his           
best--which is continually assaulted by 
the one1 and betrayed by the other1 and 
which regards with the same severity the
 lightest and the boldest violations of 
its law6 ,there are some faults slight  
in the sight of love1 some errors slight
 in the estimate of wisdom2 but truth   
forgives no insult1 and endures no      
stain4  ,we do not enough consider this2
 nor enough dread the slight and        
continual occasions of offence against  
her4 ,we are too much in the habit of   
looking at falsehood in its darkest     
associations1 and through the color of  
its worst purposes4 ,that indignation   
which we profess to feel at deceit      
absolute1 is indeed only at deceit      
malicious4 ,we resent calumny1 hypocrisy
 and treachery1 because they harm us1   
not because they are untrue4 ,take the  
detraction and the mischief from the    

untruth1 and we are little offended by  
it2 turn it into praise1 and we may be  
pleased with it4 ,and yet it is not     
calumny nor treachery that does the     
largest sum of mischief in the world2   
they are continually crushed1 and are   
felt only in being conquered4 ,but it is
 the glistening and softly spoken lie2  
the amiable fallacy2 the patriotic lie  
of the historian1 the provident lie of  
the politician1 the zealous lie of the  
partizan1 the merciful lie of the       
friend1 and the careless lie of each man
 to himself1 that cast that black       
mystery over humanity1 through which any
 man who pierces1 we thank as we would  
thank one who dug a well in a desert2   
happy in that the thirst for truth still
 remains with us1 even when we have     
wilfully left the fountains of it4  ,it 
would be well if moralists less         
frequently confused the greatness of a  
sin with its unpardonableness4 ,the two 
characters are altogether distinct4 ,the
 greatness of a fault depends partly on 

the nature of the person against whom it
 is committed1 partly upon the extent of
 its consequences4 ,its pardonableness  
depends1 humanly speaking1 on the degree
 of temptation to it4 ,one class of     
circumstances determines the weight of  
the attaching punishment2 the other1 the
 claim to remission of punishment3 and  
since it is not easy for men to estimate
 the relative weight1 nor possible for  
them to know the relative consequences1 
of crime1 it is usually wise in them to 
quit the care of such nice measurements1
 and to look to the other and clearer   
condition of culpability2 esteeming     
those faults worst which are committed  
under least temptation4 ,i do not mean  
to diminish the blame of the injurious  
and malicious sin1 of the selfish and   
deliberate falsity2 yet it seems to me1 
that the shortest way to check the      
darker forms of deceit is to set watch  
more scrupulous against those which have
 mingled1 unregarded and unchastised1   
with the current of our life4 ,do not   

let us lie at all4 ,do not think of one 
falsity as harmless1 and another as     
slight1 and another as unintended4 ,cast
 them all aside3 they may be light and  
accidental2 but they are an ugly soot   
from the smoke of the pit1 for all that2
 and it is better that our hearts should
 be swept clean of them1 without over   
care as to which is largest or blackest4
 ,speaking truth is like writing fair1  
and comes only by practice2 it is less a
 matter of will than of habit1 and ,i   
doubt if any occasion can be trivial    
which permits the practice and formation
 of such a habit4 ,to speak and act     
truth with constancy and precision is   
nearly as difficult1 and perhaps as     
meritorious1 as to speak it under       
intimidation or penalty2 and it is a    
strange thought how many men there are1 
as ,i trust1 who would hold to it at the
 cost of fortune or life1 for one who   
would hold to it at the cost of a little
 daily trouble4 ,and seeing that of all 
sin there is1 perhaps1 no one more      

flatly opposite to the ,almighty1 no one
 more wanting the good of virtue and of 
being1 than this of lying1 it is surely 
a strange insolence to fall into the    
foulness of it on light or on no        
temptation1 and surely becoming an      
honorable man to resolve that1 whatever 
semblances or fallacies the necessary   
course of his life may compel him to    
bear or to believe1 none shall disturb  
the serenity of his voluntary actions1  
nor diminish the reality of his chosen  
delights4  ,,ii4 ,if this be just and   
wise for truth's sake1 much more is it  
necessary for the sake of the delights  
over which she has influence4 ,for1 as  
,i advocated the expression of the      
,spirit of ,sacrifice in the acts and   
pleasures of men1 not as if thereby     
those acts could further the cause of   
religion1 but because most assuredly    
they might therein be infinitely        
ennobled themselves1 so ,i would have   
the ,spirit or ,lamp of ,truth clear in 
the hearts of our artists and           

handicraftsmen1 not as if the truthful  
practice of handicrafts could far       
advance the cause of truth1 but because 
,i would fain see the handicrafts       
themselves urged by the spurs of        
chivalry3 and it is1 indeed1 marvellous 
to see what power and universality there
 is in this single principle1 and how in
 the consulting or forgetting of it lies
 half the dignity or decline of every   
art and act of man4 ,i have before      
endeavored to show its range and power  
in painting2 and ,i believe a volume1   
instead of a chapter1 might be written  
on its authority over all that is great 
in architecture4 ,but ,i must be content
 with the force of instances few and    
familiar1 believing that the occasions  
of its manifestation may be more easily 
discovered by a desire to be true1 than 
embraced by an analysis of truth4  ,only
 it is very necessary in the outset to  
mark clearly wherein consists the       
essence of fallacy as distinguished from
 supposition4  ,,iii4 ,for it might be  

at first thought that the whole kingdom 
of imagination was one of deception     
also4 ,not so3 the action of the        
imagination is a voluntary summoning of 
the conceptions of things absent or     
impossible2 and the pleasure and        
nobility of the imagination partly      
consist in its knowledge and            
contemplation of them as such1 i4e4 in  
the knowledge of their actual absence or
 impossibility at the moment of their   
apparent presence or reality4 ,when the 
imagination deceives it becomes madness4
 ,it is a noble faculty so long as it   
confesses its own ideality2 when it     
ceases to confess this1 it is insanity4 
,all the difference lies in the fact of 
the confession1 in there being no       
deception4 ,it is necessary to our rank 
as spiritual creatures1 that we should  
be able to invent and to behold what is 
not2 and to our rank as moral creatures 
that we should know and confess at the  
same time that it is not4  ,,iv4 ,again1
 it might be thought1 and has been      

thought1 that the whole art of painting 
is nothing else than an endeavor to     
deceive4 ,not so3 it is1 on the         
contrary1 a statement of certain facts1 
in the clearest possible way4 ,for      
instance3 ,i desire to give an account  
of a mountain or of a rock2 ,i begin by 
telling its shape4 ,but words will not  
do this distinctly1 and ,i draw its     
shape1 and say1 ,this was its shape4    
,next3 ,i would fain represent its      
color2 but words will not do this       
either1 and ,i dye the paper1 and say1  
,this was its color4 ,such a process may
 be carried on until the scene appears  
to exist1 and a high pleasure may be    
taken in its apparent existence4 ,this  
is a communicated act of imagination1   
but no lie4 ,the lie can consist only in
 an assertion of its existence 7which is
 never for one instant made1 implied1 or
 believed71 or else in false statements 
of forms and colors 7which are1 indeed1 
made and believed to our great loss1    
continually74 ,and observe1 also1 that  

so degrading a thing is deception in    
even the approach and appearance of it1 
that all painting which even reaches the
 mark of apparent realization1 is       
degraded in so doing4 ,i have enough    
insisted on this point in another place4
  ,v4 ,the violations of truth1 which   
dishonor poetry and painting1 are thus  
for the most part confined to the       
treatment of their subjects4 ,but in    
architecture another and a less subtle1 
more contemptible1 violation of truth is
 possible2 a direct falsity of assertion
 respecting the nature of material1 or  
the quantity of labor4 ,and this is1 in 
the full sense of the word1 wrong2 it is
 as truly deserving of reprobation as   
any other moral delinquency2 it is      
unworthy alike of architects and of     
nations2 and it has been a sign1        
wherever it has widely and with         
toleration existed1 of a singular       
debasement of the arts2 that it is not a
 sign of worse than this1 of a general  
want of severe probity1 can be accounted

 for only by our knowledge of the       
strange separation which has for some   
centuries existed between the arts and  
all other subjects of human intellect1  
as matters of conscience4 ,this         
withdrawal of conscientiousness from    
among the faculties concerned with art1 
while it has destroyed the arts         
themselves1 has also rendered in a      
measure nugatory the evidence which     
otherwise they might have presented     
respecting the character of the         
respective nations among whom they have 
been cultivated2 otherwise1 it might    
appear more than strange that a nation  
so distinguished for its general        
uprightness and faith as the ,english1  
should admit in their architecture more 
of pretence1 concealment1 and deceit1   
than any other of this or of past time4 
,they are admitted in thoughtlessness1  
but with fatal effect upon the art in   
which they are practised4 ,if there were
 no other causes for the failures which 
of late have marked every great occasion

 for architectural exertion1 these petty
 dishonesties would be enough to account
 for all4 ,it is the first step and not 
the least1 towards greatness to do away 
with these2 the first1 because so       
evidently and easily in our power4 ,we  
may not be able to command good1 or     
beautiful1 or inventive architecture2   
but we can command an honest            
architecture3 the meagreness of poverty 
may be pardoned1 the sternness of       
utility respected2 but what is there but
 scorn for the meanness of deception8   
,,vi4 ,architectural ,deceits are       
broadly to be considered under three    
heads3--  #ast4 ,the suggestion of a    
mode of structure or support1 other than
 the true one2 as in pendants of late   
,gothic roofs4  #b;d4 ,the painting of  
surfaces to represent some other        
material than that of which they        
actually consist 7as in the marbling of 
wood71 or the deceptive representation  
of sculptured ornament upon them4  #c;d4
 ,the use of cast or machine-made       

ornaments of any kind4  ,now1 it may be 
broadly stated1 that architecture will  
be noble exactly in the degree in which 
all these false expedients are avoided4 
,nevertheless1 there are certain degrees
 of them1 which1 owing to their frequent
 usage1 or to other causes1 have so far 
lost the nature of deceit as to be      
admissible2 as1 for instance1 gilding1  
which is in architecture no deceit1     
because it is therein not understood for
 gold2 while in jewellery it is a       
deceit1 because it is so understood1 and
 therefore altogether to be reprehended4
 ,so that there arise1 in the           
application of the strict rules of      
right1 many exceptions and niceties of  
conscience2 which let us as briefly as  
possible examine4  ,,vii4 #ast4         
,structural ,deceits4 ,i have limited   
these to the determined and purposed    
suggestion of a mode of support other   
than the true one4 ,the architect is not
 bound to exhibit structure2 nor are we 
to complain of him for concealing it1   

any more than we should regret that the 
outer surfaces of the human frame       
conceal much of its anatomy2            
nevertheless1 that building will        
generally be the noblest1 which to an   
intelligent eye discovers the great     
secrets of its structure1 as an animal  
form does1 although from a careless     
observer they may be concealed4 ,in the 
vaulting of a ,gothic roof it is no     
deceit to throw the strength into the   
ribs of it1 and make the intermediate   
vault a mere shell4 ,such a structure   
would be presumed by an intelligent     
observer1 the first time he saw such a  
roof2 and the beauty of its traceries   
would be enhanced to him if they        
confessed and followed the lines of its 
main strength4 ,if1 however1 the        
intermediate shell were made of wood    
instead of stone1 and whitewashed to    
look like the rest1--this would1 of     
course1 be direct deceit1 and altogether
 unpardonable4  ,there is1 however1 a   
certain deception necessarily occurring 

in ,gothic architecture1 which relates1 
not to the points1 but to the manner1 of
 support4 ,the resemblance in its shafts
 and ribs to the external relations of  
stems and branches1 which has been the  
ground of so much foolish speculation1  
necessarily induces in the mind of the  
spectator a sense or belief of a        
correspondent internal structure2 that  
is to say1 of a fibrous and continuous  
strength from the root into the limbs1  
and an elasticity communicated upwards1 
sufficient for the support of the       
ramified portions4 ,the idea of the real
 conditions1 of a great weight of       
ceiling thrown upon certain narrow1     
jointed lines1 which have a tendency    
partly to be crushed1 and partly to     
separate and be pushed outwards1 is with
 difficulty received2 and the more so   
when the pillars would be1 if           
unassisted1 too slight for the weight1  
and are supported by external flying    
buttresses1 as in the apse of ,beauvais1
 and other such achievements of the     

bolder ,gothic4 ,now1 there is a nice   
question of conscience in this1 which we
 shall hardly settle but by considering 
that1 when the mind is informed beyond  
the possibility of mistake as to the    
true nature of things1 the affecting it 
with a contrary impression1 however     
distinct1 is no dishonesty1 but on the  
contrary1 a legitimate appeal to the    
imagination4 ,for instance1 the greater 
part of the happiness which we have in  
contemplating clouds1 results from the  
impression of their having massive1     
luminous1 warm1 and mountain-like       
surfaces2 and our delight in the sky    
frequently depends upon our considering 
it as a blue vault4 ,but we know the    
contrary1 in both instances2 we know the
 cloud to be a damp fog1 or a drift of  
snow flakes2 and the sky to be a        
lightless abyss4 ,there is1 therefore1  
no dishonesty1 while there is much      
delight1 in the irresistibly contrary   
impression4 ,in the same way1 so long as
 we see the stones and joints1 and are  

not deceived as to the points of support
 in any piece of architecture1 we may   
rather praise than regret the dextrous  
artifices which compel us to feel as if 
there were fibre in its shafts and life 
in its branches4 ,nor is even the       
concealment of the support of the       
external buttress reprehensible1 so long
 as the pillars are not sensibly        
inadequate to their duty4 ,for the      
weight of a roof is a circumstance of   
which the spectator generally has no    
idea1 and the provisions for it1        
consequently1 circumstances whose       
necessity or adaptation he could not    
understand4 ,it is no deceit1 therefore1
 when the weight to be borne is         
necessarily unknown1 to conceal also the
 means of bearing it1 leaving only to be
 perceived so much of the support as is 
indeed adequate to the weight supposed4 
,for the shafts do1 indeed1 bear as much
 as they are ever imagined to bear1 and 
the system of added support is no more1 
as a matter of conscience1 to be        

exhibited1 than1 in the human or any    
other form1 mechanical provisions for   
those functions which are themselves    
unperceived4  ,but the moment that the  
conditions of weight are comprehended1  
both truth and feeling require that the 
conditions of support should be also    
comprehended4 ,nothing can be worse1    
either as judged by the taste or the    
conscience1 than affectedly inadequate  
supports--suspensions in air1 and other 
such tricks and vanities4 ,mr4 ,hope    
wisely reprehends1 for this reason1 the 
arrangement of the main piers of ,st4   
,sophia at ,constantinople4 ,king's     
,college ,chapel1 ,cambridge1 is a piece
 of architectural juggling1 if possible 
still more to be condemned1 because less
 sublime4  ,,viii4 ,with deceptive      
concealments of structure are to be     
classed1 though still more blameable1   
deceptive assumptions of it--the        
introduction of members which should    
have1 or profess to have1 a duty1 and   
have none4 ,one of the most general     

instances of this will be found in the  
form of the flying buttress in late     
,gothic4 ,the use of that member is1 of 
course1 to convey support from one pier 
to another when the plan of the building
 renders it necessary or desirable that 
the supporting masses should be divided 
into groups1 the most frequent necessity
 of this kind arising from the          
intermediate range of chapels or aisles 
between the nave or choir walls and     
their supporting piers4 ,the natural1   
healthy1 and beautiful arrangement is   
that of a steeply sloping bar of stone1 
sustained by an arch with its spandril  
carried farthest down on the lowest     
side1 and dying into the vertical of the
 outer pier2 that pier being1 of course1
 not square1 but rather a piece of wall 
set at right angles to the supported    
walls1 and1 if need be1 crowned by a    
pinnacle to give it greater weight4 ,the
 whole arrangement is exquisitely       
carried out in the choir of ,beauvais4  
,in later ,gothic the pinnacle became   

gradually a decorative member1 and was  
used in all places merely for the sake  
of its beauty4 ,there is no objection to
 this2 it is just as lawful to build a  
pinnacle for its beauty as a tower2 but 
also the buttress became a decorative   
member2 and was used1 first1 where it   
was not wanted1 and1 secondly1 in forms 
in which it could be of no use1 becoming
 a mere tie1 not between the pier and   
wall1 but between the wall and the top  
of the decorative pinnacle1 thus        
attaching itself to the very point where
 its thrust1 if it made any1 could not  
be resisted4 ,the most flagrant instance
 of this barbarism that ,i remember     
7though it prevails partially in all the
 spires of the ,netherlands71 is the    
lantern of ,st4 ,ouen at ,rouen1 where  
the pierced buttress1 having an ogee    
curve1 looks about as much calculated to
 bear a thrust as a switch of willow2   
and the pinnacles1 huge and richly      
decorated1 have evidently no work to do 
whatsoever1 but stand round the central 

tower1 like four idle servants1 as they 
are--heraldic supporters1 that central  
tower being merely a hollow crown1 which
 needs no more buttressing than a basket
 does4 ,in fact1 ,i do not know anything
 more strange or unwise than the praise 
lavished upon this lantern2 it is one of
 the basest pieces of ,gothic in        
,europe2 its flamboyant traceries of the
 last and most degraded forms2#e and its
 entire plan and decoration resembling1 
and deserving little more credit than1  
the burnt sugar ornaments of elaborate  
confectionery4 ,there are hardly any of 
the magnificent and serene constructions
 of the early ,gothic which have not1 in
 the course of time1 been gradually     
thinned and pared away into these       
skeletons1 which sometimes indeed1 when 
their lines truly follow the structure  
of the original masses1 have an interest
 like that of the fibrous framework of  
leaves from which the substance has been
 dissolved1 but which are usually       
distorted as well as emaciated1 and     

remain but the sickly phantoms and      
mockeries of things that were2 they are 
to true architecture what the ,greek    
ghost was to the armed and living frame2
 and the very winds that whistle through
 the threads of them1 are to the        
diapasoned echoes of the ancient walls1 
as to the voice of the man was the      
pining of the spectre4#f  ,,ix4 ,perhaps
 the most fruitful source of these kinds
 of corruption which we have to guard   
against in recent times1 is one which1  
nevertheless1 comes in a questionable   
shape1 and of which it is not easy to   
determine the proper laws and limits2 ,i
 mean the use of iron4 ,the definition  
of the art of architecture1 given in the
 first chapter1 is independent of its   
materials3 nevertheless1 that art having
 been1 up to the beginning of the       
present century1 practised for the most 
part in clay1 stone1 or wood1 it has    
resulted that the sense of proportion   
and the laws of structure have been     
based1 the one altogether1 the other in 

great part1 on the necessities          
consequent on the employment of those   
materials2 and that the entire or       
principal employment of metallic        
framework would1 therefore1 be generally
 felt as a departure from the first     
principles of the art4 ,abstractedly    
there appears no reason why iron should 
not be used as well as wood2 and the    
time is probably near when a new system 
of architectural laws will be developed1
 adapted entirely to metallic           
construction4 ,but ,i believe that the  
tendency of all present sympathy and    
association is to limit the idea of     
architecture to non-metallic work2 and  
that not without reason4 ,for           
architecture being in its perfection the
 earliest1 as in its elements it is     
necessarily the first1 of arts1 will    
always precede1 in any barbarous nation1
 the possession of the science necessary
 either for the obtaining or the        
management of iron4 ,its first existence
 and its earliest laws must1 therefore1 

depend upon the use of materials        
accessible in quantity1 and on the      
surface of the earth2 that is to say1   
clay1 wood1 or stone3 and as ,i think it
 cannot but be generally felt that one  
of the chief dignities of architecture  
is its historical use2 and since the    
latter is partly dependent on           
consistency of style1 it will be felt   
right to retain as far as may be1 even  
in periods of more advanced science1 the
 materials and principles of earlier    
ages4  ,x4 ,but whether this be granted 
me or not1 the fact is1 that every idea 
respecting size1 proportion1 decoration1
 or construction1 on which we are at    
present in the habit of acting or       
judging1 depends on presupposition of   
such materials3 and as ,i both feel     
myself unable to escape the influence of
 these prejudices1 and believe that my  
readers will be equally so1 it may be   
perhaps permitted to me to assume that  
true architecture does not admit iron as
 a constructive material1#g and that    

such works as the cast-iron central     
spire of ,rouen ,cathedral1 or the iron 
roofs and pillars of our railway        
stations1 and of some of our churches1  
are not architecture at all4 ,yet it is 
evident that metals may1 and sometimes  
must1 enter into the construction to a  
certain extent1 as nails in wooden      
architecture1 and therefore as          
legitimately rivets and solderings in   
stone2 neither can we well deny to the  
,gothic architect the power of          
supporting statues1 pinnacles1 or       
traceries by iron bars2 and if we grant 
this ,i do not see how we can help      
allowing ,brunelleschi his iron chain   
around the dome of ,florence1 or the    
builders of ,salisbury their elaborate  
iron binding of the central tower4#h    
,if1 however1 we would not fall into the
 old sophistry of the grains of corn and
 the heap1 we must find a rule which may
 enable us to stop somewhere4 ,this rule
 is1 ,i think1 that metals may be used  
as a cement but not as a support4 ,for  

as cements of other kinds are often so  
strong that the stones may easier be    
broken than separated1 and the wall     
becomes a solid mass without for that   
reason losing the character of          
architecture1 there is no reason why1   
when a nation has obtained the knowledge
 and practice of iron work1 metal rods  
or rivets should not be used in the     
place of cement1 and establish the same 
or a greater strength and adherence1    
without in any wise inducing departure  
from the types and system of            
architecture before established2 nor    
does it make any difference except as to
 sightliness1 whether the metal bands or
 rods so employed1 be in the body of the
 wall or on its exterior1 or set as     
stays and cross-bands2 so only that the 
use of them be always and distinctly one
 which might be superseded by mere      
strength of cement2 as for instance if a
 pinnacle or mullion be propped or tied 
by an iron band1 it is evident that the 
iron only prevents the separation of the

 stones by lateral force1 which the     
cement would have done1 had it been     
strong enough4 ,but the moment that the 
iron in the least degree takes the place
 of the stone1 and acts by its          
resistance to crushing1 and bears       
superincumbent weight1 or if it acts by 
its own weight as a counterpoise1 and so
 supersedes the use of pinnacles or     
buttresses in resisting a lateral       
thrust1 or if1 in the form of a rod or  
girder1 it is used to do what wooden    
beams would have done as well1 that     
instant the building ceases1 so far as  
such applications of metal extend1 to be
 true architecture4  ,,xi4 ,the limit1  
however1 thus determined1 is an ultimate
 one1 and it is well in all things to be
 cautious how we approach the utmost    
limit of lawfulness2 so that1 although  
the employment of metal within this     
limit cannot be considered as destroying
 the very being and nature of           
architecture1 it will1 if1 extravagant  
and frequent1 derogate from the dignity 

of the work1 as well as 7which is       
especially to our present point7 from   
its honesty4 ,for although the spectator
 is not informed as to the quantity or  
strength of the cement employed1 he will
 generally conceive the stones of the   
building to be separable and his        
estimate of the skill of the architect  
will be based in a great measure on his 
supposition of this condition1 and of   
the difficulties attendant upon it3 so  
that it is always more honorable1 and it
 has a tendency to render the style of  
architecture both more masculine and    
more scientific1 to employ stone and    
mortar simply as such1 and to do as much
 as possible with the weight of the one 
and the strength of the other1 and      
rather sometimes to forego a grace1 or  
to confess a weakness1 than attain the  
one1 or conceal the other1 by means     
verging upon dishonesty4  ,nevertheless1
 where the design is of such delicacy   
and slightness as1 in some parts of very
 fair and finished edifices1 it is      

desirable that it should be2 and where  
both its completion and security are in 
a measure dependent on the use of metal1
 let not such use be reprehended2 so    
only that as much is done as may be1 by 
good mortar and good masonry2 and no    
slovenly workmanship admitted through   
confidence in the iron helps2 for it is 
in this license as in that of wine1 a   
man may use it for his infirmities1 but 
not for his nourishment4  ,,xii4 ,and1  
in order to avoid an over use of this   
liberty1 it would be well to consider   
what application may be conveniently    
made of the dovetailing and various     
adjusting of stones2 for when any       
artifice is necessary to help the       
mortar1 certainly this ought to come    
before the use of metal1 for it is both 
safer and more honest4 ,i cannot see    
that any objection can be made to the   
fitting of the stones in any shapes the 
architect pleases3 for although it would
 not be desirable to see buildings put  
together like ,chinese puzzles1 there   

must always be a check upon such an     
abuse of the practice in its difficulty2
 nor is it necessary that it should be  
always exhibited1 so that it be         
understood by the spectator as an       
admitted help1 and that no principal    
stones are introduced in positions      
apparently impossible for them to       
retain1 although a riddle here and      
there1 in unimportant features1 may     
sometimes serve to draw the eye to the  
masonry1 and make it interesting1 as    
well as to give a delightful sense of a 
kind of necromantic power in the        
architect4 ,there is a pretty one in the
 lintel of the lateral door of the      
cathedral of ,prato 7,plate ,,iv4 fig4  
#d472 where the maintenance of the      
visibly separate stones1 alternate      
marble and serpentine1 cannot be        
understood until their cross-cutting is 
seen below4 ,each block is1 of course1  
of the form given in fig4 #e4  ,,xiii4  
,lastly1 before leaving the subject of  
structural deceits1 ,i would remind the 

architect who thinks that ,i am         
unnecessarily and narrowly limiting his 
resources or his art1 that the highest  
greatness and the highest wisdom are    
shown1 the first by a noble submission  
to1 the second by a thoughtful          
providence for1 certain voluntarily     
admitted restraints4 ,nothing is more   
evident than this1 in that supreme      
government which is the example1 as it  
is the centre1 of all others4 ,the      
,divine ,wisdom is1 and can be1 shown to
 us only in its meeting and contending  
with the difficulties which are         
voluntarily1 and for the sake of that   
contest1 admitted by the ,divine        
,omnipotence3 and these difficulties1   
observe1 occur in the form of natural   
laws or ordinances1 which might1 at many
 times and in countless ways1 be        
infringed with apparent advantage1 but  
which are never infringed1 whatever     
costly arrangements or adaptations their
 observance may necessitate for the     
accomplishment of given purposes4 ,the  

example most apposite to our present    
subject is the structure of the bones of
 animals4 ,no reason can be given1 ,i   
believe1 why the system of the higher   
animals should not have been made       
capable1 as that of the ,infusoria is1  
of secreting flint1 instead of phosphate
 of lime1 or more naturally still1      
carbon2 so framing the bones of adamant 
at once4 ,the elephant or rhinoceros1   
had the earthy part of their bones been 
made of diamond1 might have been as     
agile and light as grasshoppers1 and    
other animals might have been framed far
 more magnificently colossal than any   
that walk the earth4 ,in other worlds we
 may1 perhaps1 see such creations2 a    
creation for every element1 and elements
 infinite4 ,but the architecture of     
animals here1 is appointed by ,god to be
 a marble architecture1 not a flint nor 
adamant architecture2 and all manner of 
expedients are adopted to attain the    
utmost degree of strength and size      
possible under that great limitation4   

,the jaw of the ichthyosaurus is pieced 
and riveted1 the leg of the megatherium 
is a foot thick1 and the head of the    
myodon has a double skull2 we1 in our   
wisdom1 should1 doubtless1 have given   
the lizard a steel jaw1 and the myodon a
 cast-iron headpiece1 and forgotten the 
great principle to which all creation   
bears witness1 that order and system are
 nobler things than power4 ,but ,god    
shows us in ,himself1 strange as it may 
seem1 not only authoritative perfection1
 but even the perfection of             
,obedience--an obedience to ,his own    
laws3 and in the cumbrous movement of   
those unwieldiest of ,his creatures we  
are reminded1 even in ,his divine       
essence1 of that attribute of           
uprightness in the human creature that  
sweareth to his own hurt and changeth   
not4  ,,xiv4 #b;d4 ,surface ,deceits4   
,these may be generally defined as the  
inducing the supposition of some form or
 material which does not actually exist2
 as commonly in the painting of wood to 

represent marble1 or in the painting of 
ornaments in deceptive relief1 c4 ,but  
we must be careful to observe1 that the 
evil of them consists always in         
definitely attempted deception1 and that
 it is a matter of some nicety to mark  
the point where deception begins or     
ends4  ,thus1 for instance1 the roof of 
,milan ,cathedral is seemingly covered  
with elaborate fan tracery1 forcibly    
enough painted to enable it1 in its dark
 and removed position1 to deceive a     
careless observer4 ,this is1 of course1 
gross degradation2 it destroys much of  
the dignity even of the rest of the     
building1 and is in the very strongest  
terms to be reprehended4  ,the roof of  
the ,sistine ,chapel has much           
architectural design in grissaille      
mingled with the figures of its         
frescoes2 and the effect is increase of 
dignity4  ,in what lies the distinctive 
character8  ,in two points1             
principally3--,first4 ,that the         
architecture is so closely associated   

with the figures1 and has so grand      
fellowship with them in its forms and   
cast shadows1 that both are at once felt
 to be of a piece2 and as the figures   
must necessarily be painted1 the        
architecture is known to be so too4     
,there is thus no deception4  ,second4  
,that so great a painter as ,michael    
,angelo would always stop short in such 
minor parts of his design1 of the degree
 of vulgar force which would be         
necessary to induce the supposition of  
their reality2 and1 strangely as it may 
sound1 would never paint badly enough to
 deceive4  ,but though right and wrong  
are thus found broadly opposed in works 
severally so mean and so mighty as the  
roof of ,milan and that of the ,sistine1
 there are works neither so great nor so
 mean1 in which the limits of right are 
vaguely defined1 and will need some care
 to determine2 care only1 however1 to   
apply accurately the broad principle    
with which we set out1 that no form nor 
material is to be deceptively           

represented4  ,,xv4 ,evidently1 then1   
painting1 confessedly such1 is no       
deception3 it does not assert any       
material whatever4 ,whether it be on    
wood or on stone1 or1 as will naturally 
be supposed1 on plaster1 does not       
matter4 ,whatever the material1 good    
painting makes it more precious2 nor can
 it ever be said to deceive respecting  
the ground of which it gives us no      
information4 ,to cover brick with       
plaster1 and this plaster with fresco1  
is1 therefore1 perfectly legitimate2 and
 as desirable a mode of decoration as it
 is constant in the great periods4      
,verona and ,venice are now seen        
deprived of more than half their former 
splendor2 it depended far more on their 
frescoes than their marbles4 ,the       
plaster1 in this case1 is to be         
considered as the gesso ground on panel 
or canvas4 ,but to cover brick with     
cement1 and to divide this cement with  
joints that it may look like stone1 is  
to tell a falsehood2 and is just as     

contemptible a procedure as the other is
 noble4  ,it being lawful to paint then1
 is it lawful to paint everything8 ,so  
long as the painting is confessed--yes2 
but if1 even in the slightest degree1   
the sense of it be lost1 and the thing  
painted be supposed real--no4 ,let us   
take a few instances4 ,in the ,campo    
,santo at ,pisa1 each fresco is         
surrounded with a border composed of    
flat colored patterns of great          
elegance--no part of it in attempted    
relief4 ,the certainty of flat surface  
being thus secured1 the figures1 though 
the size of life1 do not deceive1 and   
the artist thenceforward is at liberty  
to put forth his whole power1 and to    
lead us through fields and groves1 and  
depths of pleasant landscape1 and to    
soothe us with the sweet clearness of   
far off sky1 and yet never lose the     
severity of his primal purpose of       
architectural decoration4  ,in the      
,camera di ,correggio of ,san ,lodovico 
at ,parma1 the trellises of vine shadow 

the walls1 as if with an actual arbor2  
and the troops of children1 peeping     
through the oval openings1 luscious in  
color and faint in light1 may well be   
expected every instant to break through1
 or hide behind the covert4 ,the grace  
of their attitudes1 and the evident     
greatness of the whole work1 mark that  
it is painting1 and barely redeem it    
from the charge of falsehood2 but even  
so saved1 it is utterly unworthy to take
 a place among noble or legitimate      
architectural decoration4  ,in the      
cupola of the duomo of ,parma the same  
painter has represented the ,assumption 
with so much deceptive power1 that he   
has made a dome of some thirty feet     
diameter look like a cloud-wrapt opening
 in the seventh heaven1 crowded with a  
rushing sea of angels4 ,is this wrong8  
,not so3 for the subject at once        
precludes the possibility of deception4 
,we might have taken the vines for a    
veritable pergoda1 and the children for 
its haunting ragazzi2 but we know the   

stayed clouds and moveless angels must  
be man's work2 let him put his utmost   
strength to it and welcome1 he can      
enchant us1 but cannot betray4  ,we may 
thus apply the rule to the highest1 as  
well as the art of daily occurrence1    
always remembering that more is to be   
forgiven to the great painter than to   
the mere decorative workman2 and this   
especially1 because the former1 even in 
deceptive portions1 will not trick us so
 grossly2 as we have just seen in       
,correggio1 where a worse painter would 
have made the thing look like life at   
once4 ,there is1 however1 in room1      
villa1 or garden decoration1 some       
fitting admission of trickeries of this 
kind1 as of pictured landscapes at the  
extremities of alleys and arcades1 and  
ceilings like skies1 or painted with    
prolongations upwards of the            
architecture of the walls1 which things 
have sometimes a certain luxury and     
pleasureableness in places meant for    
idleness1 and are innocent enough as    

long as they are regarded as mere toys4 
,,xvi4 ,touching the false              
representation of material1 the question
 is infinitely more simple1 and the law 
more sweeping2 all such imitations are  
utterly base and inadmissible4 ,it is   
melancholy to think of the time and     
expense lost in marbling the shop fronts
 of ,london alone1 and of the waste of  
our resources in absolute vanities1 in  
things about which no mortal cares1 by  
which no eye is ever arrested1 unless   
painfully1 and which do not add one whit
 to comfort or cleanliness1 or even to  
that great object of commercial         
art--conspicuousness4 ,but in           
architecture of a higher rank1 how much 
more is it to be condemned8 ,i have made
 it a rule in the present work not to   
blame specifically2 but ,i may1 perhaps1
 be permitted1 while ,i express my      
sincere admiration of the very noble    
entrance and general architecture of the
 ,british ,museum1 to express also my   
regret that the noble granite foundation

 of the staircase should be mocked at   
its landing by an imitation1 the more   
blameable because tolerably successful4 
,the only effect of it is to cast a     
suspicion upon the true stones below1   
and upon every bit of granite afterwards
 encountered4 ,one feels a doubt1 after 
it1 of the honesty of ,memnon himself4  
,but even this1 however derogatory to   
the noble architecture around it1 is    
less painful than the want of feeling   
with which1 in our cheap modern         
churches1 we suffer the wall decorator  
to erect about the altar frameworks and 
pediments daubed with mottled color1 and
 to dye in the same fashions such       
skeletons or caricatures of columns as  
may emerge above the pews2 this is not  
merely bad taste2 it is no unimportant  
or excusable error which brings even    
these shadows of vanity and falsehood   
into the house of prayer4 ,the first    
condition which just feeling requires in
 church furniture is1 that it should be 
simple and unaffected1 not fictitious   

nor tawdry4 ,it may be in our power to  
make it beautiful1 but let it at least  
be pure2 and if we cannot permit much to
 the architect1 do not let us permit    
anything to the upholsterer2 if we keep 
to solid stone and solid wood1          
whitewashed1 if we like1 for            
cleanliness' sake 7for whitewash has so 
often been used as the dress of noble   
things that it has thence received a    
kind of nobility itself71 it must be a  
bad design indeed which is grossly      
offensive4 ,i recollect no instance of a
 want of sacred character1 or of any    
marked and painful ugliness1 in the     
simplest or the most awkwardly built    
village church1 where stone and wood    
were roughly and nakedly used1 and the  
windows latticed with white glass4 ,but 
the smoothly stuccoed walls1 the flat   
roofs with ventilator ornaments1 the    
barred windows with jaundiced borders   
and dead ground square panes1 the gilded
 or bronzed wood1 the painted iron1 the 
wretched upholstery of curtains and     

cushions1 and pew heads and altar       
railings1 and ,birmingham metal         
candlesticks1 and1 above all1 the green 
and yellow sickness of the false        
marble--disguises all1 observe2         
falsehoods all--who are they who like   
these things8 who defend them8 who do   
them8 ,i have never spoken to any one   
who did like them1 though to many who   
thought them matters of no consequence4 
,perhaps not to religion 7though ,i     
cannot but believe that there are many  
to whom1 as to myself1 such things are  
serious obstacles to the repose of mind 
and temper which should precede         
devotional exercises72 but to the       
general tone of our judgment and        
feeling--yes2 for assuredly we shall    
regard1 with tolerance1 if not with     
affection1 whatever forms of material   
things we have been in the habit of     
associating with our worship1 and be    
little prepared to detect or blame      
hypocrisy1 meanness1 and disguise in    
other kinds of decoration when we suffer

 objects belonging to the most solemn of
 all services to be tricked out in a    
fashion so fictitious and unseemly4     
,,xvii4 ,painting1 however1 is not the  
only mode in which material may be      
concealed1 or rather simulated2 for     
merely to conceal is1 as we have seen1  
no wrong4 ,whitewash1 for instance1     
though often 7by no means always7 to be 
regretted as a concealment1 is not to be
 blamed as a falsity4 ,it shows itself  
for what it is1 and asserts nothing of  
what is beneath it4 ,gilding has become1
 from its frequent use1 equally         
innocent4 ,it is understood for what it 
is1 a film merely1 and is1 therefore1   
allowable to any extent4 ,i do not say  
expedient3 it is one of the most abused 
means of magnificence we possess1 and ,i
 much doubt whether any use we ever make
 of it1 balances that loss of pleasure1 
which1 from the frequent sight and      
perpetual suspicion of it1 we suffer in 
the contemplation of anything that is   
verily of gold4 ,i think gold was meant 

to be seldom seen and to be admired as a
 precious thing2 and ,i sometimes wish  
that truth should so far literally      
prevail as that all should be gold that 
glittered1 or rather that nothing should
 glitter that was not gold4             
,nevertheless1 nature herself does not  
dispense with such semblance1 but uses  
light for it2 and ,i have too great a   
love for old and saintly art to part    
with its burnished field1 or radiant    
nimbus2 only it should be used with     
respect1 and to express magnificence1 or
 sacredness1 and not in lavish vanity1  
or in sign painting4 ,of its expedience1
 however1 any more than of that of      
color1 it is not here the place to      
speak2 we are endeavoring to determine  
what is lawful1 not what is desirable4  
,of other and less common modes of      
disguising surface1 as of powder of     
lapis lazuli1 or mosaic imitations of   
colored stones1 ,i need hardly speak4   
,the rule will apply to all alike1 that 
whatever is pretended1 is wrong2        

commonly enforced also by the exceeding 
ugliness and insufficient appearance of 
such methods1 as lately in the style of 
renovation by which half the houses in  
,venice have been defaced1 the brick    
covered first with stucco1 and this     
painted with zigzag veins in imitation  
of alabaster4 ,but there is one more    
form of architectural fiction1 which is 
so constant in the great periods that it
 needs respectful judgment4 ,i mean the 
facing of brick with precious stone4    
,,xviii4 ,it is well known1 that what is
 meant by a church's being built of     
marble is1 in nearly all cases1 only    
that a veneering of marble has been     
fastened on the rough brick wall1 built 
with certain projections to receive it2 
and that what appear to be massy stones1
 are nothing more than external slabs4  
,now1 it is evident1 that1 in this case1
 the question of right is on the same   
ground as in that of gilding4 ,if it be 
clearly understood that a marble facing 
does not pretend or imply a marble wall1

 there is no harm in it2 and as it is   
also evident that1 when very precious   
stones are used1 as jaspers and         
serpentines1 it must become1 not only an
 extravagant and vain increase of       
expense1 but sometimes an actual        
impossibility1 to obtain mass of them   
enough to build with1 there is no       
resource but this of veneering2 nor is  
there anything to be alleged against it 
on the head of durability1 such work    
having been by experience found to last 
as long1 and in as perfect condition1 as
 any kind of masonry4 ,it is1 therefore1
 to be considered as simply an art of   
mosaic on a large scale1 the ground     
being of brick1 or any other material2  
and when lovely stones are to be        
obtained1 it is a manner which should be
 thoroughly understood1 and often       
practised4 ,nevertheless1 as we esteem  
the shaft of a column more highly for   
its being of a single block1 and as we  
do not regret the loss of substance and 
value which there is in things of solid 

gold1 silver1 agate1 or ivory2 so ,i    
think the walls themselves may be       
regarded with a more just complacency if
 they are known to be all of noble      
substance2 and that rightly weighing the
 demands of the two principles of which 
we have hitherto spoken--,sacrifice and 
,truth1 we should sometimes rather spare
 external ornament than diminish the    
unseen value and consistency of what we 
do2 and ,i believe that a better manner 
of design1 and a more careful and       
studious1 if less abundant decoration   
would follow1 upon the consciousness of 
thoroughness in the substance4 ,and1    
indeed1 this is to be remembered1 with  
respect to all the points we have       
examined2 that while we have traced the 
limits of license1 we have not fixed    
those of that high rectitude which      
refuses license4 ,it is thus true that  
there is no falsity1 and much beauty in 
the use of external color1 and that it  
is lawful to paint either pictures or   
patterns on whatever surfaces may seem  

to need enrichment4 ,but it is not less 
true1 that such practices are           
essentially unarchitectural2 and while  
we cannot say that there is actual      
danger in an over use of them1 seeing   
that they have been always used most    
lavishly in the times of most noble art1
 yet they divide the work into two parts
 and kinds1 one of less durability than 
the other1 which dies away from it in   
process of ages1 and leaves it1 unless  
it have noble qualities of its own1     
naked and bare4 ,that enduring noblesse 
,i should1 therefore1 call truly        
architectural2 and it is not until this 
has been secured that the accessory     
power of painting may be called in1 for 
the delight of the immediate time2 nor  
this1 as ,i think1 until every resource 
of a more stable kind has been          
exhausted4 ,the true colors of          
architecture are those of natural stone1
 and ,i would fain see these taken      
advantage of to the full4 ,every variety
 of hue1 from pale yellow to purple1    

passing through orange1 red1 and brown1 
is entirely at our command2 nearly every
 kind of green and gray is also         
attainable3 and with these1 and pure    
white1 what harmonies might we not      
achieve8 ,of stained and variegated     
stone1 the quantity is unlimited1 the   
kinds innumerable2 where brighter colors
 are required1 let glass1 and gold      
protected by glass1 be used in mosaic--a
 kind of work as durable as the solid   
stone1 and incapable of losing its      
lustre by time--and let the painter's   
work be reserved for the shadowed loggia
 and inner chamber4 ,this is the true   
and faithful way of building2 where this
 cannot be1 the device of external      
coloring may1 indeed1 be employed       
without dishonor2 but it must be with   
the warning reflection1 that a time will
 come when such aids must pass away1 and
 when the building will be judged in its
 lifelessness1 dying the death of the   
dolphin4 ,better the less bright1 more  
enduring fabric4 ,the transparent       

alabasters of ,san ,miniato1 and the    
mosaics of ,st4 ,mark's1 are more warmly
 filled1 and more brightly touched1 by  
every return of morning and evening     
rays2 while the hues of our cathedrals  
have died like the iris out of the      
cloud2 and the temples whose azure and  
purple once flamed above the ,grecian   
promontories1 stand in their faded      
whiteness1 like snows which the sunset  
has left cold4    ,illustration3 ,,plate
 ,,ii4--7,page #ee--,vol4 ,v47   ,,part 
,,of ,,the ,,cathedral ,,of ,,st4 ,,lo1 
,,normandy4  ,,xix4 ,the last form of   
fallacy which it will be remembered we  
had to deprecate1 was the substitution  
of cast or machine work for that of the 
hand1 generally expressible as          
,operative ,deceit4  ,there are two     
reasons1 both weighty1 against this     
practice2 one1 that all cast and machine
 work is bad1 as work2 the other1 that  
it is dishonest4 ,of its badness1 ,i    
shall speak in another place1 that being
 evidently no efficient reason against  

its use when other cannot be had4 ,its  
dishonesty1 however1 which1 to my mind1 
is of the grossest kind1 is1 ,i think1 a
 sufficient reason to determine absolute
 and unconditional rejection of it4     
,ornament1 as ,i have often before      
observed1 has two entirely distinct     
sources of agreeableness3 one1 that of  
the abstract beauty of its forms1 which1
 for the present1 we will suppose to be 
the same whether they come from the hand
 or the machine2 the other1 the sense of
 human labor and care spent upon it4    
,how great this latter influence we may 
perhaps judge1 by considering that there
 is not a cluster of weeds growing in   
any cranny of ruin which has not a      
beauty in all respects nearly equal1    
and1 in some1 immeasurably superior1 to 
that of the most elaborate sculpture of 
its stones3 and that all our interest in
 the carved work1 our sense of its      
richness1 though it is tenfold less rich
 than the knots of grass beside it2 of  
its delicacy1 though it is a thousand   

fold less delicate2 of its              
admirableness1 though a millionfold less
 admirable2 results from our            
consciousness of its being the work of  
poor1 clumsy1 toilsome man4 ,its true   
delightfulness depends on our           
discovering in it the record of         
thoughts1 and intents1 and trials1 and  
heart-breakings--of recoveries and      
joyfulnesses of success3 all this can be
 traced by a practised eye2 but1        
granting it even obscure1 it is presumed
 or understood2 and in that is the worth
 of the thing1 just as much as the worth
 of anything else we call precious4 ,the
 worth of a diamond is simply the       
understanding of the time it must take  
to look for it before it can be cut4 ,it
 has an intrinsic value besides1 which  
the diamond has not 7for a diamond has  
no more real beauty than a piece of     
glass72 but ,i do not speak of that at  
present2 ,i place the two on the same   
ground2 and ,i suppose that hand-wrought
 ornament can no more be generally known

 from machine work1 than a diamond can  
be known from paste2 nay1 that the      
latter may deceive1 for a moment1 the   
mason's1 as the other the jeweller's    
eye2 and that it can be detected only by
 the closest examination4 ,yet exactly  
as a woman of feeling would not wear    
false jewels1 so would a builder of     
honor disdain false ornaments4 ,the     
using of them is just as downright and  
inexcusable a lie4 ,you use that which  
pretends to a worth which it has not2   
which pretends to have cost1 and to be1 
what it did not1 and is not2 it is an   
imposition1 a vulgarity1 an             
impertinence1 and a sin4 ,down with it  
to the ground1 grind it to powder1 leave
 its ragged place upon the wall1 rather2
 you have not paid for it1 you have no  
business with it1 you do not want it4   
,nobody wants ornaments in this world1  
but everybody wants integrity4 ,all the 
fair devices that ever were fancied1 are
 not worth a lie4 ,leave your walls as  
bare as a planed board1 or build them of

 baked mud and chopped straw1 if need   
be2 but do not rough-cast them with     
falsehood4  ,this1 then1 being our      
general law1 and ,i hold it for a more  
imperative one than any other ,i have   
asserted2 and this kind of dishonesty   
the meanest1 as the least necessary2 for
 ornament is an extravagant and         
inessential thing2 and1 therefore1 if   
fallacious1 utterly base--this1 ,i say1 
being our general law1 there are1       
nevertheless1 certain exceptions        
respecting particular substances and    
their uses4  ,,xx4 ,thus in the use of  
brick2 since that is known to be        
originally moulded1 there is no reason  
why it should not be moulded into       
diverse forms4 ,it will never be        
supposed to have been cut1 and          
therefore1 will cause no deception2 it  
will have only the credit it deserves4  
,in flat countries1 far from any quarry 
of stone1 cast brick may be             
legitimately1 and most successfully1    
used in decoration1 and that elaborate1 

and even refined4 ,the brick mouldings  
of the ,palazzo ,pepoli at ,bologna1 and
 those which run round the market-place 
of ,vercelli1 are among the richest in  
,italy4 ,so also1 tile and porcelain    
work1 of which the former is            
grotesquely1 but successfully1 employed 
in the domestic architecture of ,france1
 colored tiles being inserted in the    
diamond spaces between the crossing     
timbers2 and the latter admirably in    
,tuscany1 in external bas-reliefs1 by   
the ,robbia family1 in which works1     
while we cannot but sometimes regret the
 useless and ill-arranged colors1 we    
would by no means blame the employment  
of a material which1 whatever its       
defects1 excels every other in          
permanence1 and1 perhaps1 requires even 
greater skill in its management than    
marble4 ,for it is not the material1 but
 the absence of the human labor1 which  
makes the thing worthless2 and a piece  
of terra cotta1 or of plaster of ,paris1
 which has been wrought by human hand1  

is worth all the stone in ,carrara1 cut 
by machinery4 ,it is1 indeed1 possible1 
and even usual1 for men to sink into    
machines themselves1 so that even       
hand-work has all the characters of     
mechanism2 of the difference between    
living and dead hand-work ,i shall speak
 presently2 all that ,i ask at present  
is1 what it is always in our power to   
secure--the confession of what we have  
done1 and what we have given2 so that   
when we use stone at all1 since all     
stone is naturally supposed to be carved
 by hand1 we must not carve it by       
machinery2 neither must we use any      
artificial stone cast into shape1 nor   
any stucco ornaments of the color of    
stone1 or which might in anywise be     
mistaken for it1 as the stucco mouldings
 in the cortile of the ,palazzo ,vecchio
 at ,florence1 which cast a shame and   
suspicion over every part of the        
building4 ,but for ductile and fusible  
materials1 as clay1 iron1 and bronze1   
since these will usually be supposed to 

have been cast or stamped1 it is at our 
pleasure to employ them as we will2     
remembering that they become precious1  
or otherwise1 just in proportion to the 
hand-work upon them1 or to the clearness
 of their reception of the hand-work of 
their mould4  ,but ,i believe no cause  
to have been more active in the         
degradation of our natural feeling for  
beauty1 than the constant use of cast   
iron ornaments4 ,the common iron work of
 the middle ages was as simple as it was
 effective1 composed of leafage cut flat
 out of sheet iron1 and twisted at the  
workman's will4 ,no ornaments1 on the   
contrary1 are so cold1 clumsy1 and      
vulgar1 so essentially incapable of a   
fine line1 or shadow1 as those of cast  
iron2 and while1 on the score of truth1 
we can hardly allege anything against   
them1 since they are always             
distinguishable1 at a glance1 from      
wrought and hammered work1 and stand    
only for what they are1 yet ,i feel very
 strongly that there is no hope of the  

progress of the arts of any nation which
 indulges in these vulgar and cheap     
substitutes for real decoration4 ,their 
inefficiency and paltriness ,i shall    
endeavor to show more conclusively in   
another place1 enforcing only1 at       
present1 the general conclusion that1 if
 even honest or allowable1 they are     
things in which we can never take just  
pride or pleasure1 and must never be    
employed in any place wherein they might
 either themselves obtain the credit of 
being other and better than they are1 or
 be associated with the downright work  
to which it would be a disgrace to be   
found in their company4  ,such are1 ,i  
believe1 the three principal kinds of   
fallacy by which architecture is liable 
to be corrupted2 there are1 however1    
other and more subtle forms of it1      
against which it is less easy to guard  
by definite law1 than by the            
watchfulness of a manly and unaffected  
spirit4 ,for1 as it has been above      
noticed1 there are certain kinds of     

deception which extend to impressions   
and ideas only2 of which some are1      
indeed1 of a noble use1 as that above   
referred to1 the arborescent look of    
lofty ,gothic aisles2 but of which the  
most part have so much of legerdemain   
and trickery about them1 that they will 
lower any style in which they           
considerably prevail2 and they are      
likely to prevail when once they are    
admitted1 being apt to catch the fancy  
alike of uninventive architects and     
feelingless spectators2 just as mean and
 shallow minds are1 in other matters1   
delighted with the sense of             
over-reaching1 or tickled with the      
conceit of detecting the intention to   
over-reach2 and when subtleties of this 
kind are accompanied by the display of  
such dextrous stone-cutting1 or         
architectural sleight of hand1 as may   
become1 even by itself1 a subject of    
admiration1 it is a great chance if the 
pursuit of them do not gradually draw us
 away from all regard and care for the  

nobler character of the art1 and end in 
its total paralysis or extinction4 ,and 
against this there is no guarding1 but  
by stern disdain of all display of      
dexterity and ingenious device1 and by  
putting the whole force of our fancy    
into the arrangement of masses and      
forms1 caring no more how these masses  
and forms are wrought out1 than a great 
painter cares which way his pencil      
strikes4 ,it would be easy to give many 
instances of the danger of these tricks 
and vanities2 but ,i shall confine      
myself to the examination of one which  
has1 as ,i think1 been the cause of the 
fall of ,gothic architecture throughout 
,europe4 ,i mean the system of          
intersectional mouldings1 which1 on     
account of its great importance1 and for
 the sake of the general reader1 ,i may1
 perhaps1 be pardoned for explaining    
elementarily4  ,,xxi4 ,i must1 in the   
first place1 however1 refer to          
,professor ,willis's account of the     
origin of tracery1 given in the sixth   

chapter of his ,architecture of the     
,middle ,ages2 since the publication of 
which ,i have been not a little amazed  
to hear of any attempts made to         
resuscitate the inexcusably absurd      
theory of its derivation from imitated  
vegetable form--inexcusably1 ,i say1    
because the smallest acquaintance with  
early ,gothic architecture would have   
informed the supporters of that theory  
of the simple fact1 that1 exactly in    
proportion to the antiquity of the work1
 the imitation of such organic forms is 
less1 and in the earliest examples does 
not exist at all4 ,there cannot be the  
shadow of a question1 in the mind of a  
person familiarised with any single     
series of consecutive examples1 that    
tracery arose from the gradual          
enlargement of the penetrations of the  
shield of stone which1 usually supported
 by a central pillar1 occupied the head 
of early windows4 ,professor ,willis1   
perhaps1 confines his observations      
somewhat too absolutely to the double   

sub-arch4 ,i have given1 in ,plate      
,,vii4 fig4 #b1 an interesting case of  
rude penetration of a high and simply   
trefoiled shield1 from the church of the
 ,eremitani at ,padua4 ,but the more    
frequent and typical form is that of the
 double sub-arch1 decorated with various
 piercings of the space between it and  
the superior arch2 with a simple trefoil
 under a round arch1 in the ,abbaye aux 
,hommes1 ,caen#i 7,plate ,,iii4 fig4    
#a72 with a very beautifully            
proportioned quatrefoil1 in the         
triforium of ,eu1 and that of the choir 
of ,lisieux2 with quatrefoils1 sixfoils1
 and septfoils1 in the transept towers  
of ,rouen 7,plate ,,iii4 fig4 #b72 with 
a trefoil awkwardly1 and very small     
quatrefoil above1 at ,coutances1 7,plate
 ,,iii4 fig4 #c72 then1 with            
multiplications of the same figures1    
pointed or round1 giving very clumsy    
shapes of the intermediate stone 7fig4  
#d1 from one of the nave chapels of     
,rouen1 fig4 #e1 from one of the nave   

chapels of ,bayeaux71 and finally1 by   
thinning out the stony ribs1 reaching   
conditions like that of the glorious    
typical form of the clerestory of the   
apse of ,beauvais 7fig4 #f74            
,illustration3 ,,plate ,,iii4--7,page   
#fj--,vol4 ,v47   ,,traceries ,,from    
,,caen1 ,,bayeux1 ,,rouen1 ,,and        
,,beavais4  ,,xxii4 ,now1 it will be    
noticed that1 during the whole of this  
process1 the attention is kept fixed on 
the forms of the penetrations1 that is  
to say1 of the lights as seen from the  
interior1 not of the intermediate stone4
 ,all the grace of the window is in the 
outline of its light2 and ,i have drawn 
all these traceries as seen from within1
 in order to show the effect of the     
light thus treated1 at first in far off 
and separate stars1 and then gradually  
enlarging1 approaching1 until they come 
and stand over us1 as it were1 filling  
the whole space with their effulgence4  
,and it is in this pause of the star1   
that we have the great1 pure1 and       

perfect form of ,french ,gothic2 it was 
at the instant when the rudeness of the 
intermediate space had been finally     
conquered1 when the light had expanded  
to its fullest1 and yet had not lost its
 radiant unity1 principality1 and       
visible first causing of the whole1 that
 we have the most exquisite feeling and 
most faultless judgments in the         
management alike of the tracery and     
decorations4 ,i have given1 in ,plate   
,x41 an exquisite example of it1 from a 
panel decoration of the buttresses of   
the north door of ,rouen2 and in order  
that the reader may understand what     
truly fine ,gothic work is1 and how     
nobly it unites fantasy and law1 as well
 as for our immediate purpose1 it will  
be well that he should examine its      
sections and mouldings in detail 7they  
are described in the fourth ,chapter1   
,sec4 xxvii471 and that the more        
carefully1 because this design belongs  
to a period in which the most important 
change took place in the spirit of      

,gothic architecture1 which1 perhaps1   
ever resulted from the natural progress 
of any art4 ,that tracery marks a pause 
between the laying aside of one great   
ruling principle1 and the taking up of  
another2 a pause as marked1 as clear1 as
 conspicuous to the distant view of     
after times1 as to the distant glance of
 the traveller is the culminating ridge 
of the mountain chain over which he has 
passed4 ,it was the great watershed of  
,gothic art4 ,before it1 all had been   
ascent2 after it1 all was decline2 both1
 indeed1 by winding paths and varied    
slopes2 both interrupted1 like the      
gradual rise and fall of the passes of  
the ,alps1 by great mountain outliers1  
isolated or branching from the central  
chain1 and by retrograde or parallel    
directions of the valleys of access4    
,but the track of the human mind is     
traceable up to that glorious ridge1 in 
a continuous line1 and thence downwards4
 ,like a silver zone--    ,flung about  
carelessly1 it shines afar1   ,catching 

the eye in many a broken link1   ,in    
many a turn and traverse1 as it glides4 
,and oft above1 and oft below1 appears--
   99  99  99  99 to him who journeys up
   ,as though it were another4  ,and at 
that point1 and that instant1 reaching  
the place that was nearest heaven1 the  
builders looked back1 for the last time1
 to the way by which they had come1 and 
the scenes through which their early    
course had passed4 ,they turned away    
from them and their morning light1 and  
descended towards a new horizon1 for a  
time in the warmth of western sun1 but  
plunging with every forward step into   
more cold and melancholy shade4         
,,xxiii4 ,the change of which ,i speak1 
is inexpressible in few words1 but one  
more important1 more radically          
influential1 could not be4 ,it was the  
substitution of the line for the mass1  
as the element of decoration4  ,we have 
seen the mode in which the openings or  
penetration of the window expanded1     
until what were1 at first1 awkward forms

 of intermediate stone1 became delicate 
lines of tracery3 and ,i have been      
careful in pointing out the peculiar    
attention bestowed on the proportion and
 decoration of the mouldings of the     
window at ,rouen1 in ,plate ,x41 as     
compared with earlier mouldings1 because
 that beauty and care are singularly    
significant4 ,they mark that the        
traceries had caught the eye of the     
architect4 ,up to that time1 up to the  
very last instant in which the reduction
 and thinning of the intervening stone  
was consummated1 his eye had been on the
 openings only1 on the stars of light4  
,he did not care about the stone1 a rude
 border of moulding was all he needed1  
it was the penetrating shape which he   
was watching4 ,but when that shape had  
received its last possible expansion1   
and when the stone-work became an       
arrangement of graceful and parallel    
lines1 that arrangement1 like some form 
in a picture1 unseen and accidentally   
developed1 struck suddenly1 inevitably1 

on the sight4 ,it had literally not been
 seen before4 ,it flashed out in an     
instant as an independent form4 ,it     
became a feature of the work4 ,the      
architect took it under his care1       
thought over it1 and distributed its    
members as we see4  ,now1 the great     
pause was at the moment when the space  
and the dividing stone-work were both   
equally considered4 ,it did not last    
fifty years4 ,the forms of the tracery  
were seized with a childish delight in  
the novel source of beauty2 and the     
intervening space was cast aside1 as an 
element of decoration1 for ever4 ,i have
 confined myself1 in following this     
change1 to the window1 as the feature in
 which it is clearest4 ,but the         
transition is the same in every member  
of architecture2 and its importance can 
hardly be understood1 unless we take the
 pains to trace it in the universality1 
of which illustrations1 irrelevant to   
our present purpose1 will be found in   
the third ,chapter4 ,i pursue here the  

question of truth1 relating to the      
treatment of the mouldings4  ,,xxiv4    
,the reader will observe that1 up to the
 last expansion of the penetrations1 the
 stone-work was necessarily considered1 
as it actually is1 stiff1 and           
unyielding4 ,it was so1 also1 during the
 pause of which ,i have spoken1 when the
 forms of the tracery were still severe 
and pure2 delicate indeed1 but perfectly
 firm4  ,at the close of the period of  
pause1 the first sign of serious change 
was like a low breeze1 passing through  
the emaciated tracery1 and making it    
tremble4 ,it began to undulate like the 
threads of a cobweb lifted by the wind4 
,it lost its essence as a structure of  
stone4 ,reduced to the slenderness of   
threads1 it began to be considered as   
possessing also their flexibility4 ,the 
architect was pleased with this his new 
fancy1 and set himself to carry it out2 
and in a little time1 the bars of       
tracery were caused to appear to the eye
 as if they had been woven together like

 a net4 ,this was a change which        
sacrificed a great principle of truth2  
it sacrificed the expression of the     
qualities of the material2 and1 however 
delightful its results in their first   
developments1 it was ultimately ruinous4
  ,for1 observe the difference between  
the supposition of ductility1 and that  
of elastic structure noticed above in   
the resemblance to tree form4 ,that     
resemblance was not sought1 but         
necessary2 it resulted from the natural 
conditions of strength in the pier or   
trunk1 and slenderness in the ribs or   
branches1 while many of the other       
suggested conditions of resemblance were
 perfectly true4 ,a tree branch1 though 
in a certain sense flexible1 is not     
ductile2 it is as firm in its own form  
as the rib of stone2 both of them will  
yield up to certain limits1 both of them
 breaking when those limits are         
exceeded2 while the tree trunk will bend
 no more than the stone pillar4 ,but    
when the tracery is assumed to be as    

yielding as a silken cord2 when the     
whole fragility1 elasticity1 and weight 
of the material are to the eye1 if not  
in terms1 denied2 when all the art of   
the architect is applied to disprove the
 first conditions of his working1 and   
the first attributes of his materials2  
this is a deliberate treachery1 only    
redeemed from the charge of direct      
falsehood by the visibility of the stone
 surface1 and degrading all the         
traceries it affects exactly in the     
degree of its presence4  ,,xxv4 ,but the
 declining and morbid taste of the later
 architects1 was not satisfied with thus
 much deception4 ,they were delighted   
with the subtle charm they had created1 
and thought only of increasing its      
power4 ,the next step was to consider   
and represent the tracery1 as not only  
ductile1 but penetrable2 and when two   
mouldings met each other1 to manage     
their intersection1 so that one should  
appear to pass through the other1       
retaining its independence2 or when two 

ran parallel to each other1 to represent
 the one as partly contained within the 
other1 and partly apparent above it4    
,this form of falsity was that which    
crushed the art4 ,the flexible traceries
 were often beautiful1 though they were 
ignoble2 but the penetrated traceries1  
rendered1 as they finally were1 merely  
the means of exhibiting the dexterity of
 the stone-cutter1 annihilated both the 
beauty and dignity of the ,gothic types4
 ,a system so momentous in its          
consequences deserves some detailed     
examination4  ,,xxvi4 ,in the drawing of
 the shafts of the door at ,lisieux1    
under the spandril1 in ,plate ,,vii41   
the reader will see the mode of managing
 the intersection of similar mouldings1 
which was universal in the great        
periods4 ,they melted into each other1  
and became one at the point of crossing1
 or of contact2 and even the suggestion 
of so sharp intersection as this of     
,lisieux is usually avoided 7this design
 being1 of course1 only a pointed form  

of the earlier ,norman arcade1 in which 
the arches are interlaced1 and lie each 
over the preceding1 and under the       
following1 one1 as in ,anselm's tower at
 ,canterbury71 since1 in the plurality  
of designs1 when mouldings meet each    
other1 they coincide through some       
considerable portion of their curves1   
meeting by contact1 rather than by      
intersection2 and at the point of       
coincidence the section of each separate
 moulding becomes common to the two thus
 melted into each other4 ,thus1 in the  
junction of the circles of the window of
 the ,palazzo ,foscari1 ,plate ,,viii41 
given accurately in fig4 #h1 ,plate     
,,iv41 the section across the line s1 is
 exactly the same as that across any    
break of the separated moulding above1  
as s4 ,it sometimes1 however1 happens1  
that two different mouldings meet each  
other4 ,this was seldom permitted in the
 great periods1 and1 when it took place1
 was most awkwardly managed4 ,fig4 #a1  
,plate ,,iv4 gives the junction of the  

mouldings of the gable and vertical1 in 
the window of the spire of ,salisbury4  
,that of the gable is composed of a     
single1 and that of the vertical of a   
double cavetto1 decorated with          
ball-flowers2 and the larger single     
moulding swallows up one of the double  
ones1 and pushes forward among the      
smaller balls with the most blundering  
and clumsy simplicity4 ,in comparing the
 sections it is to be observed that1 in 
the upper one1 the line a b represents  
an actual vertical in the plane of the  
window2 while1 in the lower one1 the    
line c d represents the horizontal1 in  
the plane of the window1 indicated by   
the perspective line d e4  ,,xxvii4 ,the
 very awkwardness with which such       
occurrences of difficulty are met by the
 earlier builder1 marks his dislike of  
the system1 and unwillingness to attract
 the eye to such arrangements4 ,there is
 another very clumsy one1 in the        
junction of the upper and sub-arches of 
the triforium of ,salisbury2 but it is  

kept in the shade1 and all the prominent
 junctions are of mouldings like each   
other1 and managed with perfect         
simplicity4 ,but so soon as the         
attention of the builders became1 as we 
have just seen1 fixed upon the lines of 
mouldings instead of the enclosed       
spaces1 those lines began to preserve an
 independent existence wherever they    
met2 and different mouldings were       
studiously associated1 in order to      
obtain variety of intersectional line4  
,we must1 however1 do the late builders 
the justice to note that1 in one case1  
the habit grew out of a feeling of      
proportion1 more refined than that of   
earlier workmen4 ,it shows itself first 
in the bases of divided pillars1 or arch
 mouldings1 whose smaller shafts had    
originally bases formed by the continued
 base of the central1 or other larger1  
columns with which they were grouped2   
but it being felt1 when the eye of the  
architect became fastidious1 that the   
dimension of moulding which was right   

for the base of a large shaft1 was wrong
 for that of a small one1 each shaft had
 an independent base2 at first1 those of
 the smaller died simply down on that of
 the larger2 but when the vertical      
sections of both became complicated1 the
 bases of the smaller shafts were       
considered to exist within those of the 
larger1 and the places of their         
emergence1 on this supposition1 were    
calculated with the utmost nicety1 and  
cut with singular precision2 so that an 
elaborate late base of a divided column1
 as1 for instance1 of those in the nave 
of ,abbeville1 looks exactly as if its  
smaller shafts had all been finished to 
the ground first1 each with its complete
 and intricate base1 and then the       
comprehending base of the central pier  
had been moulded over them in clay1     
leaving their points and angles sticking
 out here and there1 like the edges of  
sharp crystals out of a nodule of earth4
 ,the exhibition of technical dexterity 
in work of this kind is often           

marvellous1 the strangest possible      
shapes of sections being calculated to a
 hair's-breadth1 and the occurrence of  
the under and emergent forms being      
rendered1 even in places where they are 
so slight that they can hardly be       
detected but by the touch4 ,it is       
impossible to render a very elaborate   
example of this kind intelligible1      
without some fifty measured sections2   
but fig4 #f1 ,plate ,,iv4 is a very     
interesting and simple one1 from the    
west gate of ,rouen4 ,it is part of the 
base of one of the narrow piers between 
its principal niches4 ,the square column
 k1 having a base with the profile p r1 
is supposed to contain within itself    
another similar one1 set diagonally1 and
 lifted so far above the inclosing one1 
as that the recessed part of its profile
 p r shall fall behind the projecting   
part of the outer one4 ,the angle of its
 upper portion exactly meets the plane  
of the side of the upper inclosing shaft
 #d1 and would1 therefore1 not be seen1 

unless two vertical cuts were made to   
exhibit it1 which form two dark lines   
the whole way up the shaft4 ,two small  
pilasters are run1 like fastening       
stitches1 through the junction on the   
front of the shafts4 ,the sections k n  
taken respectively at the levels k1 n1  
will explain the hypothetical           
construction of the whole4 ,fig4 #g is a
 base1 or joint rather 7for passages of 
this form occur again and again1 on the 
shafts of flamboyant work71 of one of   
the smallest piers of the pedestals     
which support the lost statues of the   
porch2 its section below would be the   
same as n1 and its construction1 after  
what has been said of the other base1   
will be at once perceived4              
,illustration3 ,,plate ,,iv4--7,page    
#ff--,vol4 ,v47   ,,intersectional      
,,mouldings4  ,,xxviii4 ,there was1     
however1 in this kind of involution1    
much to be admired as well as           
reprehended1 the proportions of         
quantities were always as beautiful as  

they were intricate2 and1 though the    
lines of intersection were harsh1 they  
were exquisitely opposed to the         
flower-work of the interposing          
mouldings4 ,but the fancy did not stop  
here2 it rose from the bases into the   
arches2 and there1 not finding room     
enough for its exhibition1 it withdrew  
the capitals from the heads even of     
cylindrical shafts1 7we cannot but      
admire1 while we regret1 the boldness of
 the men who could defy the authority   
and custom of all the nations of the    
earth for a space of some three thousand
 years17 in order that the arch         
mouldings might appear to emerge from   
the pillar1 as at its base they had been
 lost in it1 and not to terminate on the
 abacus of the capital2 then they ran   
the mouldings across and through each   
other1 at the point of the arch2 and    
finally1 not finding their natural      
directions enough to furnish as many    
occasions of intersection as they       
wished1 bent them hither and thither1   

and cut off their ends short1 when they 
had passed the point of intersection4   
,fig4 #b1 ,plate ,,iv4 is part of a     
flying buttress from the apse of ,st4   
,gervais at ,falaise1 in which the      
moulding whose section is rudely given  
above at f1 7taken vertically through   
the point f17 is carried thrice through 
itself1 in the cross-bar and two arches2
 and the flat fillet is cut off sharp at
 the end of the cross-bar1 for the mere 
pleasure of the truncation4 ,fig4 #c is 
half of the head of a door in the       
,stadthaus of ,sursee1 in which the     
shaded part of the section of the joint 
g g1 is that of the arch-moulding1 which
 is three times reduplicated1 and six   
times intersected by itself1 the ends   
being cut off when they become          
unmanageable4 ,this style is1 indeed1   
earlier exaggerated in ,switzerland and 
,germany1 owing to the imitation in     
stone of the dovetailing of wood1       
particularly of the intersecting of     
beams at the angles of chalets2 but it  

only furnishes the more plain instance  
of the danger of the fallacious system  
which1 from the beginning1 repressed the
 ,german1 and1 in the end1 ruined the   
,french ,gothic4 ,it would be too       
painful a task to follow further the    
caricatures of form1 and eccentricities 
of treatment1 which grow out of this    
singular abuse--the flattened arch1 the 
shrunken pillar1 the lifeless ornament1 
the liny moulding1 the distorted and    
extravagant foliation1 until the time   
came when1 over these wrecks and        
remnants1 deprived of all unity and     
principle1 rose the foul torrent of the 
renaissance1 and swept them all away4   
,so fell the great dynasty of mediaeval 
architecture4 ,it was because it had    
lost its own strength1 and disobeyed its
 own laws--because its order1 and       
consistency1 and organization1 had been 
broken through--that it could oppose no 
resistance to the rush of overwhelming  
innovation4 ,and this1 observe1 all     
because it had sacrificed a single      

truth4 ,from that one surrender of its  
integrity1 from that one endeavor to    
assume the semblance of what it was not1
 arose the multitudinous forms of       
disease and decrepitude1 which rotted   
away the pillars of its supremacy4 ,it  
was not because its time was come2 it   
was not because it was scorned by the   
classical ,romanist1 or dreaded by the  
faithful ,protestant4 ,that scorn and   
that fear it might have survived1 and   
lived2 it would have stood forth in     
stern comparison with the enervated     
sensuality of the renaissance2 it would 
have risen in renewed and purified      
honor1 and with a new soul1 from the    
ashes into which it sank1 giving up its 
glory1 as it had received it1 for the   
honor of ,god--but its own truth was    
gone1 and it sank forever4 ,there was no
 wisdom nor strength left in it1 to     
raise it from the dust2 and the error of
 zeal1 and the softness of luxury smote 
it down and dissolved it away4 ,it is   
good for us to remember this1 as we     

tread upon the bare ground of its       
foundations1 and stumble over its       
scattered stones4 ,those rent skeletons 
of pierced wall1 through which our      
sea-winds moan and murmur1 strewing them
 joint by joint1 and bone by bone1 along
 the bleak promontories on which the    
,pharos lights came once from houses of 
prayer--those grey arches and quiet     
isles under which the sheep of our      
valleys feed and rest on the turf that  
has buried their altars--those shapeless
 heaps1 that are not of the ,earth1     
which lift our fields into strange and  
sudden banks of flowers1 and stay our   
mountain streams with stones that are   
not their own1 have other thoughts to   
ask from us than those of mourning for  
the rage that despoiled1 or the fear    
that forsook them4 ,it was not the      
robber1 not the fanatic1 not the        
blasphemer1 who sealed the destruction  
that they had wrought2 the war1 the     
wrath1 the terror1 might have worked    
their worst1 and the strong walls would 

have risen1 and the slight pillars would
 have started again1 from under the hand
 of the destroyer4 ,but they could not  
rise out of the ruins of their own      
violated truth4     ,,chapter ,,iii4    
,,the ,,lamp ,,of ,,power4   ,i4 ,in    
recalling the impressions we have       
received from the works of man1 after a 
lapse of time long enough to involve in 
obscurity all but the most vivid1 it    
often happens that we find a strange    
pre-eminence and durability in many upon
 whose strength we had little           
calculated1 and that points of character
 which had escaped the detection of the 
judgment1 become developed under the    
waste of memory2 as veins of harder     
rock1 whose places could not at first   
have been discovered by the eye1 are    
left salient under the action of frosts 
and streams4 ,the traveller who desires 
to correct the errors of his judgment1  
necessitated by inequalities of temper1 
infelicities of circumstance1 and       
accidents of association1 has no other  

resource than to wait for the calm      
verdict of interposing years2 and to    
watch for the new arrangements of       
eminence and shape in the images which  
remain latest in his memory2 as in the  
ebbing of a mountain lake1 he would     
watch the varying outlines of its       
successive shore1 and trace1 in the form
 of its departing waters1 the true      
direction of the forces which had cleft1
 or the currents which had excavated1   
the deepest recesses of its primal bed4 
,in thus reverting to the memories of   
those works of architecture by which we 
have been most pleasurably impressed1 it
 will generally happen that they fall   
into two broad classes3 the one         
characterized by an exceeding           
preciousness and delicacy1 to which we  
recur with a sense of affectionate      
admiration2 and the other by a severe1  
and1 in many cases1 mysterious1 majesty1
 which we remember with an undiminished 
awe1 like that felt at the presence and 
operation of some great ,spiritual      

,power4 ,from about these two groups1   
more or less harmonised by intermediate 
examples1 but always distinctively      
marked by features of beauty or of      
power1 there will be swept away1 in     
multitudes1 the memories of buildings1  
perhaps1 in their first address to our  
minds1 of no inferior pretension1 but   
owing their impressiveness to characters
 of less enduring nobility--to value of 
material1 accumulation of ornament1 or  
ingenuity of mechanical construction4   
,especial interest may1 indeed1 have    
been awakened by such circumstances1 and
 the memory may have been1 consequently1
 rendered tenacious of particular parts 
or effects of the structure2 but it will
 recall even these only by an active    
effort1 and then without emotion2 while 
in passive moments1 and with thrilling  
influence1 the image of purer beauty1   
and of more spiritual power1 will return
 in a fair and solemn company2 and while
 the pride of many a stately palace1 and
 the wealth of many a jewelled shrine1  

perish from our thoughts in a dust of   
gold1 there will rise1 through their    
dimness1 the white image of some        
secluded marble chapel1 by river or     
forest side1 with the fretted           
flower-work shrinking under its arches1 
as if under vaults of late-fallen snow2 
or the vast weariness of some shadowy   
wall whose separate stones are like     
mountain foundations1 and yet           
numberless4  ,,ii4 ,now1 the difference 
between these two orders of build-ing is
 not merely that which there is in      
nature between things beautiful and     
sublime4 ,it is1 also1 the difference   
between what is derivative and original 
in man's work2 for whatever is in       
architecture fair or beautiful1 is      
imitated from natural forms2 and what is
 not so derived1 but depends for its    
dignity upon arrangement and government 
received from human mind1 becomes the   
expression of the power of that mind1   
and receives a sublimity high in        
proportion to the power expressed4 ,all 

building1 therefore1 shows man either as
 gathering or governing3 and the secrets
 of his success are his knowing what to 
gather1 and how to rule4 ,these are the 
two great intellectual ,lamps of        
,architecture2 the one consisting in a  
just and humble veneration for the works
 of ,god upon the earth1 and the other  
in an understanding of the dominion over
 those works which has been vested in   
man4  ,,iii4 ,besides this expression of
 living authority and power1 there is1  
however1 a sympathy in the forms of     
noble building1 with what is most       
sublime in natural things2 and it is the
 governing ,power directed by this      
sympathy1 whose operation ,i shall at   
present endeavor to trace1 abandoning   
all inquiry into the more abstract      
fields of invention3 for this latter    
faculty1 and the questions of proportion
 and arrangement connected with its     
discussion1 can only be rightly examined
 in a general view of all arts2 but its 
sympathy1 in architecture1 with the vast

 controlling powers of ,nature herself1 
is special1 and may shortly be          
considered2 and that with the more      
advantage1 that it has1 of late1 been   
little felt or regarded by architects4  
,i have seen1 in recent efforts1 much   
contest between two schools1 one        
affecting originality1 and the other    
legality--many attempts at beauty of    
design--many ingenious adaptations of   
construction2 but ,i have never seen any
 aim at the expression of abstract      
power2 never any appearance of a        
consciousness that1 in this primal art  
of man1 there is room for the marking of
 his relations with the mightiest1 as   
well as the fairest1 works of ,god2 and 
that those works themselves have been   
permitted1 by their ,master and his1 to 
receive an added glory from their       
association with earnest efforts of     
human thought4 ,in the edifices of ,man 
there should be found reverent worship  
and following1 not only of the spirit   
which rounds the pillars of the forest1 

and arches the vault of the             
avenue--which gives veining to the leaf1
 and polish to the shell1 and grace to  
every pulse that agitates animal        
organization1--but of that also which   
reproves the pillars of the earth1 and  
builds up her barren precipices into the
 coldness of the clouds1 and lifts her  
shadowy cones of mountain purple into   
the pale arch of the sky2 for these1 and
 other glories more than these1 refuse  
not to connect themselves1 in his       
thoughts1 with the work of his own hand2
 the grey cliff loses not its nobleness 
when it reminds us of some ,cyclopean   
waste of mural stone2 the pinnacles of  
the rocky promontory arrange themselves1
 undegraded1 into fantastic semblances  
of fortress towers2 and even the awful  
cone of the far-off mountain has a      
melancholy mixed with that of its own   
solitude1 which is cast from the images 
of nameless tumuli on white sea-shores1 
and of the heaps of reedy clay1 into    
which chambered cities melt in their    

mortality4  ,,iv4 ,let us1 then1 see    
what is this power and majesty1 which   
,nature herself does not disdain to     
accept from the works of man2 and what  
that sublimity in the masses built up by
 his coralline-like energy1 which is    
honorable1 even when transferred by     
association to the dateless hills1 which
 it needed earthquakes to lift1 and     
deluges to mould4  ,and1 first of mere  
size3 ,it might not be thought possible 
to emulate the sublimity of natural     
objects in this respect2 nor would it   
be1 if the architect contended with them
 in pitched battle4 ,it would not be    
well to build pyramids in the valley of 
,chamouni2 and ,st4 ,peter's1 among its 
many other errors1 counts for not the   
least injurious its position on the     
slope of an inconsiderable hill4 ,but   
imagine it placed on the plain of       
,marengo1 or1 like the ,superga of      
,turin1 or like ,la ,salute at ,venice6 
,the fact is1 that the apprehension of  
the size of natural objects1 as well as 

of architecture1 depends more on        
fortunate excitement of the imagination 
than on measurements by the eye2 and the
 architect has a peculiar advantage in  
being able to press close upon the      
sight1 such magnitude as he can command4
 ,there are few rocks1 even among the   
,alps1 that have a clear vertical fall  
as high as the choir of ,beauvais2 and  
if we secure a good precipice of wall1  
or a sheer and unbroken flank of tower1 
and place them where there are no       
enormous natural features to oppose     
them1 we shall feel in them no want of  
sublimity of size4 ,and it may be matter
 of encouragement in this respect1      
though one also of regret1 to observe   
how much oftener man destroys natural   
sublimity1 than nature crushes human    
power4 ,it does not need much to        
humiliate a mountain4 ,a hut will       
sometimes do it2 ,i never look up to the
 ,col de ,balme from ,chamouni1 without 
a violent feeling of provocation against
 its hospitable little cabin1 whose     

bright white walls form a visibly       
four-square spot on the green ridge1 and
 entirely destroy all idea of its       
elevation4 ,a single villa will often   
mar a whole landscape1 and dethrone a   
dynasty of hills1 and the ,acropolis of 
,athens1 ,parthenon and all1 has1 ,i    
believe1 been dwarfed into a model by   
the palace lately built beneath it4 ,the
 fact is1 that hills are not so high as 
we fancy them1 and1 when to the actual  
impression of no mean comparative size1 
is added the sense of the toil of manly 
hand and thought1 a sublimity is        
reached1 which nothing but gross error  
in arrangement of its parts can destroy4
  ,v4 ,while1 therefore1 it is not to be
 supposed that mere size will ennoble a 
mean design1 yet every increase of      
magnitude will bestow upon it a certain 
degree of nobleness3 so that it is well 
to determine at first1 whether the      
building is to be markedly beautiful or 
markedly sublime2 and if the latter1 not
 to be withheld by respect to smaller   

parts from reaching largeness of scale2 
provided only1 that it be evidently in  
the architect's power to reach at least 
that degree of magnitude which is the   
lowest at which sublimity begins1 rudely
 definable as that which will make a    
living figure look less than life beside
 it4 ,it is the misfortune of most of   
our modern buildings that we would fain 
have an universal excellence in them2   
and so part of the funds must go in     
painting1 part in gilding1 part in      
fitting up1 part in painted windows1    
part in small steeples1 part in         
ornaments here and there2 and neither   
the windows1 nor the steeple1 nor the   
ornaments1 are worth their materials4   
,for there is a crust about the         
impressible part of men's minds1 which  
must be pierced through before they can 
be touched to the quick2 and though we  
may prick at it and scratch it in a     
thousand separate places1 we might as   
well have let it alone if we do not come
 through somewhere with a deep thrust3  

and if we can give such a thrust        
anywhere1 there is no need of another2  
it need not be even so wide as a church 
door1 so that it be enough4 ,and mere   
weight will do this2 it is a clumsy way 
of doing it1 but an effectual one1 too2 
and the apathy which cannot be pierced  
through by a small steeple1 nor shone   
through by a small window1 can be broken
 through in a moment by the mere weight 
of a great wall4 ,let1 therefore1 the   
architect who has not large resources1  
choose his point of attack first1 and1  
if he choose size1 let him abandon      
decoration2 for1 unless they are        
concentrated1 and numerous enough to    
make their concentration conspicuous1   
all his ornaments together would not be 
worth one huge stone4 ,and the choice   
must be a decided one1 without          
compromise4 ,it must be no question     
whether his capitals would not look     
better with a little carving--let him   
leave them huge as blocks2 or whether   
his arches should not have richer       

architraves--let him throw them a foot  
higher1 if he can2 a yard more across   
the nave will be worth more to him than 
a tesselated pavement2 and another      
fathom of outer wall1 than an army of   
pinnacles4 ,the limitation of size must 
be only in the uses of the building1 or 
in the ground at his disposal4  ,,vi4   
,that limitation1 however1 being by such
 circumstances determined1 by what      
means1 it is to be next asked1 may the  
actual magnitude be best displayed2     
since it is seldom1 perhaps never1 that 
a building of any pretension to size    
looks so large as it is4 ,the appearance
 of a figure in any distant1 more       
especially in any upper1 parts of it    
will almost always prove that we have   
under-estimated the magnitude of those  
parts4  ,it has often been observed that
 a building1 in order to show its       
magnitude1 must be seen all at once4 ,it
 would1 perhaps1 be better to say1 must 
be bounded as much as possible by       
continuous lines1 and that its extreme  

points should be seen all at once2 or we
 may state1 in simpler terms still1 that
 it must have one visible bounding line 
from top to bottom1 and from end to end4
 ,this bounding line from top to bottom 
may either be inclined inwards1 and the 
mass1 therefore1 pyramidical2 or        
vertical1 and the mass form one grand   
cliff2 or inclined outwards1 as in the  
advancing fronts of old houses1 and1 in 
a sort1 in the ,greek temple1 and in all
 buildings with heavy cornices or heads4
 ,now1 in all these cases1 if the       
bounding line be violently broken2 if   
the cornice project1 or the upper       
portion of the pyramid recede1 too      
violently1 majesty will be lost2 not    
because the building cannot be seen all 
at once1--for in the case of a heavy    
cornice no part of it is necessarily    
concealed--but because the continuity of
 its terminal line is broken1 and the   
length of that line1 therefore1 cannot  
be estimated4 ,but the error is1 of     
course1 more fatal when much of the     

building is also concealed2 as in the   
well-known case of the recession of the 
dome of ,st4 ,peter's1 and1 from the    
greater number of points of view1 in    
churches whose highest portions1 whether
 dome or tower1 are over their cross4   
,thus there is only one point from which
 the size of the ,cathedral of ,florence
 is felt2 and that is from the corner of
 the ,via de' ,balestrieri1 opposite the
 south-east angle1 where it happens that
 the dome is seen rising instantly above
 the apse and transepts4 ,in all cases  
in which the tower is over the cross1   
the grandeur and height of the tower    
itself are lost1 because there is but   
one line down which the eye can trace   
the whole height1 and that is in the    
inner angle of the cross1 not easily    
discerned4 ,hence1 while1 in symmetry   
and feeling1 such designs may often have
 pre-eminence1 yet1 where the height of 
the tower itself is to be made apparent1
 it must be at the west end1 or better  
still1 detached as a campanile4 ,imagine

 the loss to the ,lombard churches if   
their campaniles were carried only to   
their present height over their crosses2
 or to the ,cathedral of ,rouen1 if the 
,tour de ,beurre were made central1 in  
the place of its present debased spire6 
,,vii4 ,whether1 therefore1 we have to  
do with tower or wall1 there must be one
 bounding line from base to coping2 and 
,i am much inclined1 myself1 to love the
 true vertical1 or the vertical1 with a 
solemn frown of projection 7not a       
scowl71 as in the ,palazzo ,vecchio of  
,florence4 ,this character is always    
given to rocks by the poets2 with slight
 foundation indeed real rocks being     
little given to overhanging--but with   
excellent judgment2 for the sense of    
threatening conveyed by this form is a  
nobler character than that of mere size4
 ,and1 in buildings1 this threatening   
should be somewhat carried down into    
their mass4 ,a mere projecting shelf is 
not enough1 the whole wall must1        
,jupiter like1 nod as well as frown4    

,hence1 ,i think the propped            
machicolations of the ,palazzo ,vecchio 
and ,duomo of ,florence far grander     
headings than any form of ,greek        
cornice4 ,sometimes the projection may  
be thrown lower1 as in the ,doge's      
palace of ,venice1 where the chief      
appearance of it is above the second    
arcade2 or it may become a grand swell  
from the ground1 as the head of a ship  
of the line rises from the sea4 ,this is
 very nobly attained by the projection  
of the niches in the third story of the 
,tour de ,beurre at ,rouen4  ,,viii4    
,what is needful in the setting forth of
 magnitude in height1 is right also in  
the marking it in area--let it be       
gathered well together4 ,it is          
especially to be noted with respect to  
the ,palazzo ,vecchio and other mighty  
buildings of its order1 how mistakenly  
it has been stated that dimension1 in   
order to become impressive1 should be   
expanded either in height or length1 but
 not equally3 whereas1 rather it will be

 found that those buildings seem on the 
whole the vastest which have been       
gathered up into a mighty square1 and   
which look as if they had been measured 
by the angel's rod1 the length1 and the 
breadth1 and the height of it are equal1
 and herein something is to be taken    
notice of1 which ,i believe not to be   
sufficiently1 if at all1 considered     
among our architects4  ,of the many     
broad divisions under which architecture
 may be considered1 none appear to me   
more significant than that into         
buildings whose interest is in their    
walls1 and those whose interest is in   
the lines dividing their walls4 ,in the 
,greek temple the wall is as nothing2   
the entire interest is in the detached  
columns and the frieze they bear2 in    
,french ,flamboyant1 and in our         
detestable ,perpendicular1 the object is
 to get rid of the wall surface1 and    
keep the eye altogether on tracery of   
line2 in ,romanesque work and ,egyptian1
 the wall is a confessed and honored    

member1 and the light is often allowed  
to fall on large areas of it1 variously 
decorated4 ,now1 both these principles  
are admitted by ,nature1 the one in her 
woods and thickets1 the other in her    
plains1 and cliffs1 and waters2 but the 
latter is pre-eminently the principle of
 power1 and1 in some sense1 of beauty   
also4 ,for1 whatever infinity of fair   
form there may be in the maze of the    
forest1 there is a fairer1 as ,i think1 
in the surface of the quiet lake2 and ,i
 hardly know that association of shaft  
or tracery1 for which ,i would exchange 
the warm sleep of sunshine on some      
smooth1 broad1 human-like front of      
marble4 ,nevertheless1 if breadth is to 
be beautiful1 its substance must in some
 sort be beautiful2 and we must not     
hastily condemn the exclusive resting of
 the northern architects in divided     
lines1 until at least we have remembered
 the difference between a blank surface 
of ,caen stone1 and one mixed from      
,genoa and ,carrara1 of serpentine with 

snow3 but as regards abstract power and 
awfulness1 there is no question2 without
 breadth of surface it is in vain to    
seek them1 and it matters little1 so    
that the surface be wide1 bold and      
unbroken1 whether it be of brick or of  
jasper2 the light of heaven upon it1 and
 the weight of earth in it1 are all we  
need3 for it is singular how forgetful  
the mind may become both of material and
 workmanship1 if only it have space     
enough over which to range1 and to      
remind it1 however feebly1 of the joy   
that it has in contemplating the        
flatness and sweep of great plains and  
broad seas4 ,and it is a noble thing for
 men to do this with their cut stone or 
moulded clay1 and to make the face of a 
wall look infinite1 and its edge against
 the sky like an horizon3 or even if    
less than this be reached1 it is still  
delightful to mark the play of passing  
light on its broad surface1 and to see  
by how many artifices and gradations of 
tinting and shadow1 time and storm will 

set their wild signatures upon it2 and  
how in the rising or declining of the   
day the unbroken twilight rests long and
 luridly on its high lineless forehead1 
and fades away untraceably down its     
tiers of confused and countless stone4  
,,ix4 ,this1 then1 being1 as ,i think1  
one of the peculiar elements of sublime 
architecture1 it may be easily seen how 
necessarily consequent upon the love of 
it will be the choice of a form         
approaching to the square for the main  
outline4  ,for1 in whatever direction   
the building is contracted1 in that     
direction the eye will be drawn to its  
terminal lines2 and the sense of surface
 will only be at its fullest when those 
lines are removed1 in every direction1  
as far as possible4 ,thus the square and
 circle are pre-eminently the areas of  
power among those bounded by purely     
straight or curved lines2 and these1    
with their relative solids1 the cube and
 sphere1 and relative solids of         
progression 7as in the investigation of 

the laws of proportion ,i shall call    
those masses which are generated by the 
progression of an area of given form    
along a line in a given direction71 the 
square and cylindrical column1 are the  
elements of utmost power in all         
architectural arrangements4 ,on the     
other hand1 grace and perfect proportion
 require an elongation in some one      
direction3 and a sense of power may be  
communicated to this form of magnitude  
by a continuous series of any marked    
features1 such as the eye may be unable 
to number2 while yet we feel1 from their
 boldness1 decision1 and simplicity1    
that it is indeed their multitude which 
has embarrassed us1 not any confusion or
 indistinctness of form4 ,this expedient
 of continued series forms the sublimity
 of arcades and aisles1 of all ranges of
 columns1 and1 on a smaller scale1 of   
those ,greek mouldings1 of which1       
repeated as they now are in all the     
meanest and most familiar forms of our  
furniture1 it is impossible altogether  

to weary4 ,now1 it is evident that the  
architect has choice of two types of    
form1 each properly associated with its 
own kind of interest or decoration3 the 
square1 or greatest area1 to be chosen  
especially when the surface is to be the
 subject of thought2 and the elongated  
area1 when the divisions of the surface 
are to be the subjects of thought4 ,both
 these orders of form1 as ,i think      
nearly every other source of power and  
beauty1 are marvellously united in that 
building which ,i fear to weary the     
reader by bringing forward too          
frequently1 as a model of all           
perfection--the ,doge's palace at       
,venice3 its general arrangement1 a     
hollow square2 its principal facade1 an 
oblong1 elongated to the eye by a range 
of thirty-four small arches1 and        
thirty-five columns1 while it is        
separated by a richly-canopied window in
 the centre1 into two massive divisions1
 whose height and length are nearly as  
four to five2 the arcades which give it 

length being confined to the lower      
stories1 and the upper1 between its     
broad windows1 left a mighty surface of 
smooth marble1 chequered with blocks of 
alternate rose-color and white4 ,it     
would be impossible1 ,i believe1 to     
invent a more magnificent arrangement of
 all that is in building most dignified 
and most fair4  ,x4 ,in the ,lombard    
,romanesque1 the two principles are more
 fused into each other1 as most         
characteristically in the ,cathedral of 
,pisa3 length of proportion1 exhibited  
by an arcade of twenty-one arches above1
 and fifteen below1 at the side of the  
nave2 bold square proportion in the     
front2 that front divided into arcades1 
placed one above the other1 the lowest  
with its pillars engaged1 of seven      
arches1 the four uppermost thrown out   
boldly from the receding wall1 and      
casting deep shadows2 the first1 above  
the basement1 of nineteen arches2 the   
second of twenty-one2 the third and     
fourth of eight each2 sixty-three arches

 in all2 all circular headed1 all with  
cylindrical shafts1 and the lowest with 
square panellings1 set diagonally under 
their semicircles1 an universal ornament
 in this style 7,plate ,,xii41 fig4 #g72
 the apse1 a semicircle1 with a         
semi-dome for its roof1 and three ranges
 of circular arches for its exterior    
ornament2 in the interior of the nave1 a
 range of circular arches below a       
circular-arched triforium1 and a vast   
flat surface1 observe1 of wall decorated
 with striped marble above2 the whole   
arrangement 7not a peculiar one1 but    
characteristic of every church of the   
period2 and1 to my feeling1 the most    
majestic2 not perhaps the fairest1 but  
the mightiest type of form which the    
mind of man has ever conceived7 based   
exclusively on associations of the      
circle and the square4  ,i am now1      
however1 trenching upon ground which ,i 
desire to reserve for more careful      
examination1 in connection with other   
aesthetic questions3 but ,i believe the 

examples ,i have given will justify my  
vindication of the square form from the 
reprobation which has been lightly      
thrown upon it2 nor might this be done  
for it only as a ruling outline1 but as 
occurring constantly in the best        
mosaics1 and in a thousand forms of     
minor decoration1 which ,i cannot now   
examine2 my chief assertion of its      
majesty being always as it is an        
exponent of space and surface1 and      
therefore to be chosen1 either to rule  
in their outlines1 or to adorn by masses
 of light and shade those portions of   
buildings in which surface is to be     
rendered precious or honorable4  ,,xi4  
,thus far1 then1 of general forms1 and  
of the modes in which the scale of      
architecture is best to be exhibited4   
,let us next consider the manifestations
 of power which belong to its details   
and lesser divisions4  ,the first       
division we have to regard1 is the      
inevitable one of masonry4 ,it is true  
that this division may1 by great art1 be

 concealed2 but ,i think it unwise 7as  
well as dishonest7 to do so2 for this   
reason1 that there is a very noble      
character always to be obtained by the  
opposition of large stones to divided   
masonry1 as by shafts and columns of one
 piece1 or massy lintels and            
architraves1 to wall work of bricks or  
smaller stones2 and there is a certain  
organization in the management of such  
parts1 like that of the continuous bones
 of the skeleton1 opposed to the        
vertebrae1 which it is not well to      
surrender4 ,i hold1 therefore1 that1 for
 this and other reasons1 the masonry of 
a building is to be shown3 and also     
that1 with certain rare exceptions 7as  
in the cases of chapels and shrines of  
most finished workmanship71 the smaller 
the building1 the more necessary it is  
that its masonry should be bold1 and    
vice versa4 ,for if a building be under 
the mark of average magnitude1 it is not
 in our power to increase its apparent  
size 7too easily measurable7 by any     

proportionate diminution in the scale of
 its masonry4 ,but it may be often in   
our power to give it a certain nobility 
by building it of massy stones1 or1 at  
all events1 introducing such into its   
make4 ,thus it is impossible that there 
should ever be majesty in a cottage     
built of brick2 but there is a marked   
element of sublimity in the rude and    
irregular piling of the rocky walls of  
the mountain cottages of ,wales1        
,cumberland1 and ,scotland4 ,their size 
is not one whit diminished1 though four 
or five stones reach at their angles    
from the ground to the eaves1 or though 
a native rock happen to project         
conveniently1 and to be built into the  
framework of the wall4 ,on the other    
hand1 after a building has once reached 
the mark of majestic size1 it matters1  
indeed1 comparatively little whether its
 masonry be large or small1 but if it be
 altogether large1 it will sometimes    
diminish the magnitude for want of a    
measure2 if altogether small1 it will   

suggest ideas of poverty in material1 or
 deficiency in mechanical resource1     
besides interfering in many cases with  
the lines of the design1 and delicacy of
 the workmanship4 ,a very unhappy       
instance of such interference exists in 
the facade of the church of ,st4        
,madeleine at ,paris1 where the columns1
 being built of very small stones of    
nearly equal size1 with visible joints1 
look as if they were covered with a     
close trellis4 ,so1 then1 that masonry  
will be generally the most magnificent  
which1 without the use of materials     
systematically small or large1          
accommodates itself1 naturally and      
frankly1 to the conditions and structure
 of its work1 and displays alike its    
power of dealing with the vastest       
masses1 and of accomplishing its purpose
 with the smallest1 sometimes heaping   
rock upon rock with ,titanic            
commandment1 and anon binding the dusty 
remnants and edgy splinters into        
springing vaults and swelling domes4    

,and if the nobility of this confessed  
and natural masonry were more commonly  
felt1 we should not lose the dignity of 
it by smoothing surfaces and fitting    
joints4 ,the sums which we waste in     
chiselling and polishing stones which   
would have been better left as they came
 from the quarry would often raise a    
building a story higher4 ,only in this  
there is to be a certain respect for    
material also3 for if we build in       
marble1 or in any limestone1 the known  
ease of the workmanship will make its   
absence seem slovenly2 it will be well  
to take advantage of the stone's        
softness1 and to make the design        
delicate and dependent upon smoothness  
of chiselled surfaces3 but if we build  
in granite or lava1 it is a folly1 in   
most cases1 to cast away the labor      
necessary to smooth it2 it is wiser to  
make the design granitic itself1 and to 
leave the blocks rudely squared4 ,i do  
not deny a certain splendor and sense of
 power in the smoothing of granite1 and 

in the entire subduing of its iron      
resistance to the human supremacy4 ,but1
 in most cases1 ,i believe1 the labor   
and time necessary to do this would be  
better spent in another way2 and that to
 raise a building to a height of a      
hundred feet with rough blocks1 is      
better than to raise it to seventy with 
smooth ones4 ,there is also a           
magnificence in the natural cleavage of 
the stone to which the art must indeed  
be great that pretends to be equivalent2
 and a stern expression of brotherhood  
with the mountain heart from which it   
has been rent1 ill-exchanged for a      
glistering obedience to the rule and    
measure of men4 ,his eye must be        
delicate indeed1 who would desire to see
 the ,pitti palace polished4  ,,xii4    
,next to those of the masonry1 we have  
to consider the divisions of the design 
itself4 ,those divisions are1           
necessarily1 either into masses of light
 and shade1 or else by traced lines2    
which latter must be1 indeed1 themselves

 produced by incisions or projections   
which1 in some lights1 cast a certain   
breadth of shade1 but which may1        
nevertheless1 if finely enough cut1 be  
always true lines1 in distant effect4 ,i
 call1 for instance1 such panelling as  
that of ,henry the ,seventh's chapel1   
pure linear division4  ,now1 it does not
 seem to me sufficiently recollected1   
that a wall surface is to an architect  
simply what a white canvas is to a      
painter1 with this only difference1 that
 the wall has already a sublimity in its
 height1 substance1 and other characters
 already considered1 on which it is more
 dangerous to break than to touch with  
shade the canvas surface4 ,and1 for my  
own part1 ,i think a smooth1 broad1     
freshly laid surface of gesso a fairer  
thing than most pictures ,i see painted 
on it2 much more1 a noble surface of    
stone than most architectural features  
which it is caused to assume4 ,but      
however this may be1 the canvas and wall
 are supposed to be given1 and it is our

 craft to divide them4  ,and the        
principles on which this division is to 
be made1 are as regards relation of     
quantities1 the same in architecture as 
in painting1 or indeed1 in any other art
 whatsoever1 only the painter is by his 
varied subject partly permitted1 partly 
compelled1 to dispense with the symmetry
 of architectural light and shade1 and  
to adopt arrangements apparently free   
and accidental4 ,so that in modes of    
grouping there is much difference       
7though no opposition7 between the two  
arts2 but in rules of quantity1 both are
 alike1 so far forth as their commands  
of means are alike4 ,for the architect1 
not being able to secure always the same
 depth or decision of shadow1 nor to add
 to its sadness by color 7because even  
when color is employed1 it cannot follow
 the moving shade71 is compelled to make
 many allowances1 and avail himself of  
many contrivances1 which the painter    
needs neither consider nor employ4      
,,xiii4 ,of these limitations the first 

consequence is1 that positive shade is a
 more necessary and more sublime thing  
in an architect's hands than in a       
painter's4 ,for the latter being able to
 temper his light with an under-tone    
throughout1 and to make it delightful   
with sweet color1 or awful with lurid   
color1 and to represent distance1 and   
air1 and sun1 by the depth of it1 and   
fill its whole space with expression1   
can deal with an enormous1 nay1 almost  
with an universal extent of it1 and the 
best painters most delight in such      
extent2 but as light1 with the          
architect1 is nearly always liable to   
become full and untempered sunshine seen
 upon solid surface1 his only rests1 and
 his chief means of sublimity1 are      
definite shades4 ,so that1 after size   
and weight1 the ,power of architecture  
may be said to depend on the quantity   
7whether measured in space or           
intenseness7 of its shadow2 and it seems
 to me1 that the reality of its works1  
and the use and influence they have in  

the daily life of men 7as opposed to    
those works of art with which we have   
nothing to do but in times of rest or of
 pleasure7 require of it that it should 
express a kind of human sympathy1 by a  
measure of darkness as great as there is
 in human life3 and that as the great   
poem and great fiction generally affect 
us most by the majesty of their masses  
of shade1 and cannot take hold upon us  
if they affect a continuance of lyric   
sprightliness1 but must be serious      
often1 and sometimes melancholy1 else   
they do not express the truth of this   
wild world of ours2 so there must be1 in
 this magnificently human art of        
architecture1 some equivalent expression
 for the trouble and wrath of life1 for 
its sorrow and its mystery3 and this it 
can only give by depth or diffusion of  
gloom1 by the frown upon its front1 and 
the shadow of its recess4 ,so that      
,rembrandtism is a noble manner in      
architecture1 though a false one in     
painting2 and ,i do not believe that    

ever any building was truly great1      
unless it had mighty masses1 vigorous   
and deep1 of shadow mingled with its    
surface4 ,and among the first habits    
that a young architect should learn1 is 
that of thinking in shadow1 not looking 
at a design in its miserable liny       
skeleton2 but conceiving it as it will  
be when the dawn lights it1 and the dusk
 leaves it2 when its stones will be hot 
and its crannies cool2 when the lizards 
will bask on the one1 and the birds     
build in the other4 ,let him design with
 the sense of cold and heat upon him2   
let him cut out the shadows1 as men dig 
wells in unwatered plains2 and lead     
along the lights1 as a founder does his 
hot metal2 let him keep the full command
 of both1 and see that he knows how they
 fall1 and where they fade4 ,his paper  
lines and proportions are of no value3  
all that he has to do must be done by   
spaces of light and darkness2 and his   
business is to see that the one is broad
 and bold enough not to be swallowed up 

by twilight1 and the other deep enough  
not to be dried like a shallow pool by a
 noon-day sun4  ,and that this may be1  
the first necessity is that the         
quantities of shade or light1 whatever  
they may be1 shall be thrown into       
masses1 either of something like equal  
weight1 or else large masses of the one 
relieved with small of the other2 but   
masses of one or other kind there must  
be4 ,no design that is divided at all1  
and is not divided into masses1 can ever
 be of the smallest value3 this great   
law respecting breadth1 precisely the   
same in architecture and painting1 is so
 important1 that the examination of its 
two principal applications will include 
most of the conditions of majestic      
design on which ,i would at present     
insist4  ,,xiv4 ,painters are in the    
habit of speaking loosely of masses of  
light and shade1 meaning thereby any    
large spaces of either4 ,nevertheless1  
it is convenient sometimes to restrict  
the term mass to the portions to which  

proper form belongs1 and to call the    
field on which such forms are traced1   
interval4 ,thus1 in foliage with        
projecting boughs or stems1 we have     
masses of light1 with intervals of      
shade2 and1 in light skies with dark    
clouds upon them1 masses of shade with  
intervals of light4  ,this distinction  
is1 in architecture1 still more         
necessary2 for there are two marked     
styles dependent upon it3 one in which  
the forms are drawn with light upon     
darkness1 as in ,greek sculpture and    
pillars2 the other in which they are    
drawn with darkness upon light1 as in   
early ,gothic foliation4 ,now1 it is not
 in the designer's power determinately  
to vary degrees and places of darkness1 
but it is altogether in his power to    
vary in determined directions his       
degrees of light4 ,hence1 the use of the
 dark mass characterises1 generally1 a  
trenchant style of design1 in which the 
darks and lights are both flat1 and     
terminated by sharp edges2 while the use

 of the light mass is in the same way   
associated with a softened and full     
manner of design1 in which the darks are
 much warmed by reflected lights1 and   
the lights are rounded and melt into    
them4 ,the term applied by ,milton to   
,doric bas-relief--bossy1 is1 as is     
generally the case with ,milton's       
epithets1 the most comprehensive and    
expressive of this manner1 which the    
,english language contains2 while the   
term which specifically describes the   
chief member of early ,gothic           
decoration1 feuille1 foil or leaf1 is   
equally significative of a flat space of
 shade4  ,,xv4 ,we shall shortly        
consider the actual modes in which these
 two kinds of mass have been treated4   
,and1 first1 of the light1 or rounded1  
mass4 ,the modes in which relief was    
secured for the more projecting forms of
 bas-relief1 by the ,greeks1 have been  
too well described by ,mr4 ,eastlake,i  
to need recapitulation3 the conclusion  
which forces itself upon us from the    

facts he has remarked1 being one on     
which ,i shall have occasion farther to 
insist presently1 that the ,greek       
workman cared for shadow only as a dark 
field wherefrom his light figure or     
design might be intelligibly detached3  
his attention was concentrated on the   
one aim at readableness1 and clearness  
of accent2 and all composition1 all     
harmony1 nay1 the very vitality and     
energy of separate groups were1 when    
necessary1 sacrificed to plain speaking4
 ,nor was there any predilection for one
 kind of form rather than another4      
,bounded forms were1 in the columns and 
principal decorative members1 adopted1  
not for their own sake1 but as          
characteristic of the things            
represented4 ,they were beautifully     
rounded1 because the ,greek habitually  
did well what he had to do1 not because 
he loved roundness more than squareness2
 severely rectilinear forms were        
associated with the curved ones in the  
cornice and triglyph1 and the mass of   

the pillar was divided by a fluting1    
which1 in distant effect1 destroyed much
 of its breadth4 ,what power of light   
these primal arrangements left1 was     
diminished in successive refinements and
 additions of ornament2 and continued to
 diminish through ,roman work1 until the
 confirmation of the circular arch as a 
decorative feature4 ,its lovely and     
simple line taught the eye to ask for a 
similar boundary of solid form2 the dome
 followed1 and necessarily the          
decorative masses were thenceforward    
managed with reference to1 and in       
sympathy with1 the chief feature of the 
building4 ,hence arose1 among the       
,byzantine architects1 a system of      
ornament1 entirely restrained within the
 superfices of curvilinear masses1 on   
which the light fell with as unbroken   
gradation as on a dome or column1 while 
the illumined surface was nevertheless  
cut into details of singular and most   
ingenious intricacy4 ,something is1 of  
course1 to be allowed for the less      

dexterity of the workmen2 it being      
easier to cut down into a solid block1  
than to arrange the projecting portions 
of leaf on the ,greek capital3 such     
leafy capitals are nevertheless executed
 by the ,byzantines with skill enough to
 show that their preference of the      
massive form was by no means compulsory1
 nor can ,i think it unwise4 ,on the    
contrary1 while the arrangements of line
 are far more artful in the ,greek      
capital1 the ,byzantine light and shade 
are as incontestably more grand and     
masculine1 based on that quality of pure
 gradation1 which nearly all natural    
objects possess1 and the attainment of  
which is1 in fact1 the first and most   
palpable purpose in natural arrangements
 of grand form4 ,the rolling heap of the
 thunder-cloud1 divided by rents1 and   
multiplied by wreaths1 yet gathering    
them all into its broad1 torrid1 and    
towering zone1 and its midnight darkness
 opposite2 the scarcely less majestic   
heave of the mountain side1 all torn and

 traversed by depth of defile and ridge 
of rock1 yet never losing the unity of  
its illumined swell and shadowy decline2
 and the head of every mighty tree1 rich
 with tracery of leaf and bough1 yet    
terminated against the sky by a true    
line1 and rounded by a green horizon1   
which1 multiplied in the distant forest1
 makes it look bossy from above2 all    
these mark1 for a great and honored law1
 that diffusion of light for which the  
,byzantine ornaments were designed2 and 
show us that those builders had truer   
sympathy with what ,god made majestic1  
than the self-contemplating and         
self-contented ,greek4 ,i know that they
 are barbaric in comparison2 but there  
is a power in their barbarism of sterner
 tone1 a power not sophistic nor        
penetrative1 but embracing and          
mysterious2 a power faithful more than  
thoughtful1 which conceived and felt    
more than it created2 a power that      
neither comprehended nor ruled itself1  
but worked and wandered as it listed1   

like mountain streams and winds2 and    
which could not rest in the expression  
or seizure of finite form4 ,it could not
 bury itself in acanthus leaves4 ,its   
imagery was taken from the shadows of   
the storms and hills1 and had fellowship
 with the night and day of the earth    
itself4      ,i ,literature of the ,fine
 ,arts4--,essay on ,bas-relief4  ,,xvi4 
,i have endeavored to give some idea of 
one of the hollow balls of stone which1 
surrounded by flowing leafage1 occur in 
varied succession on the architrave of  
the central gate of ,st4 ,mark's at     
,venice1 in ,plate ,i4 fig4 #b4 ,it     
seems to me singularly beautiful in its 
unity of lightness1 and delicacy of     
detail1 with breadth of light4 ,it looks
 as if its leaves had been sensitive1   
and had risen and shut themselves into a
 bud at some sudden touch1 and would    
presently fall back again into their    
wild flow4 ,the cornices of ,san        
,michele of ,lucca1 seen above and below
 the arch1 in ,plate ,,vi41 show the    

effect of heavy leafage and thick stems 
arranged on a surface whose curve is a  
simple quadrant1 the light dying from   
off them as it turns4 ,it would be      
difficult1 as ,i think1 to invent       
anything more noble2 and ,i insist on   
the broad character of their arrangement
 the more earnestly1 because1 afterwards
 modified by greater skill in its       
management1 it became characteristic of 
the richest pieces of ,gothic design4   
,the capital1 given in ,plate ,v41 is of
 the noblest period of the ,venetian    
,gothic2 and it is interesting to see   
the play of leafage so luxuriant1       
absolutely subordinated to the breadth  
of two masses of light and shade4 ,what 
is done by the ,venetian architect1 with
 a power as irresistible as that of the 
waves of his surrounding sea1 is done by
 the masters of the ,cis-,alpine        
,gothic1 more timidly1 and with a manner
 somewhat cramped and cold1 but not less
 expressing their assent to the same    
great law4 ,the ice spiculae of the     

,north1 and its broken sunshine1 seem to
 have image in1 and influence on the    
work2 and the leaves which1 under the   
,italian's hand1 roll1 and flow1 and bow
 down over their black shadows1 as in   
the weariness of noon-day heat1 are1 in 
the ,north1 crisped and frost-bitten1   
wrinkled on the edges1 and sparkling as 
if with dew4 ,but the rounding of the   
ruling form is not less sought and felt4
 ,in the lower part of ,plate ,i4 is the
 finial of the pediment given in ,plate 
,,ii41 from the cathedral of ,st4 ,lo4  
,it is exactly similar in feeling to the
 ,byzantine capital1 being rounded under
 the abacus by four branches of thistle 
leaves1 whose stems1 springing from the 
angles1 bend outwards and fall back to  
the head1 throwing their jaggy spines   
down upon the full light1 forming two   
sharp quatre-foils4 ,i could not get    
near enough to this finial to see with  
what degree of delicacy the spines were 
cut2 but ,i have sketched a natural     
group of thistle-leaves beside it1 that 

the reader may compare the types1 and   
see with what mastery they are subjected
 to the broad form of the whole4 ,the   
small capital from ,coutances1 ,plate   
,,xiii4 fig4 #d1 which is of earlier    
date1 is of simpler elements1 and       
exhibits the principle still more       
clearly2 but the ,st4 ,lo finial is only
 one of a thousand instances which might
 be gathered even from the fully        
developed flamboyant1 the feeling of    
breadth being retained in minor         
ornaments long after it had been lost in
 the main design1 and sometimes         
capriciously renewing itself throughout1
 as in the cylindrical niches and       
pedestals which enrich the porches of   
,caudebec and ,rouen4 ,fig4 #a1 ,plate  
,i4 is the simplest of those of ,rouen2 
in the more elaborate there are four    
projecting sides1 divided by buttresses 
into eight rounded compartments of      
tracery2 even the whole bulk of the     
outer pier is treated with the same     
feeling2 and though composed partly of  

concave recesses1 partly of square      
shafts1 partly of statues and tabernacle
 work1 arranges itself as a whole into  
one richly rounded tower4               
,illustration3 ,,plate ,v4--7,page      
#hh--,vol4 ,v47   ,,capital ,,from ,,the
 ,,lower ,,arcade ,,of ,,the ,,doge',s  
,,palace1 ,,venice4  ,,xvii4 ,i cannot  
here enter into the curious questions   
connected with the management of larger 
curved surfaces2 into the causes of the 
difference in proportion necessary to be
 observed between round and square      
towers2 nor into the reasons why a      
column or ball may be richly ornamented1
 while surface decorations would be     
inexpedient on masses like the ,castle  
of ,st4 ,angelo1 the tomb of ,cecilia   
,metella1 or the dome of ,st4 ,peter's4 
,but what has been above said of the    
desireableness of serenity in plane     
surfaces1 applies still more forcibly to
 those which are curved2 and it is to be
 remembered that we are1 at present1    
considering how this serenity and power 

may be carried into minor divisions1 not
 how the ornamental character of the    
lower form may1 upon occasion1 be       
permitted to fret the calmness of the   
higher4 ,nor1 though the instances we   
have examined are of globular or        
cylindrical masses chiefly1 is it to be 
thought that breadth can only be secured
 by such alone3 many of the noblest     
forms are of subdued curvature1         
sometimes hardly visible2 but curvature 
of some degree there must be1 in order  
to secure any measure of grandeur in a  
small mass of light4 ,one of the most   
marked distinctions between one artist  
and another1 in the point of skill1 will
 be found in their relative delicacy of 
perception of rounded surface2 the full 
power of expressing the perspective1    
foreshortening and various undulation of
 such surface is1 perhaps1 the last and 
most difficult attainment of the hand   
and eye4 ,for instance3 there is1       
perhaps1 no tree which has baffled the  
landscape painter more than the common  

black spruce fir4 ,it is rare that we   
see any representation of it other than 
caricature4 ,it is conceived as if it   
grew in one plane1 or as a section of a 
tree1 with a set of boughs symmetrically
 dependent on opposite sides4 ,it is    
thought formal1 unmanageable1 and ugly4 
,it would be so1 if it grew as it is    
drawn4 ,but the power of the tree is not
 in that chandelier-like section4 ,it is
 in the dark1 flat1 solid tables of     
leafage1 which it holds out on its      
strong arms1 curved slightly over them  
like shields1 and spreading towards the 
extremity like a hand4 ,it is vain to   
endeavor to paint the sharp1 grassy1    
intricate leafage1 until this ruling    
form has been secured2 and in the boughs
 that approach the spectator1 the       
foreshortening of it is like that of a  
wide hill country1 ridge just rising    
over ridge in successive distances2 and 
the finger-like extremities1            
foreshortened to absolute bluntness1    
require a delicacy in the rendering of  

them like that of the drawing of the    
hand of the ,magdalene upon the vase in 
,mr4 ,rogers's ,titian4 ,get but the    
back of that foliage1 and you have the  
tree2 but ,i cannot name the artist who 
has thoroughly felt it4 ,so1 in all     
drawing and sculpture1 it is the power  
of rounding1 softly and perfectly1 every
 inferior mass which preserves the      
serenity1 as it follows the truth1 of   
,nature1 and which demands the highest  
knowledge and skill from the workman4 ,a
 noble design may always be told by the 
back of a single leaf1 and it was the   
sacrifice of this breadth and refinement
 of surface for sharp edges and         
extravagant undercutting1 which         
destroyed the ,gothic mouldings1 as the 
substitution of the line for the light  
destroyed the ,gothic tracery4 ,this    
change1 however1 we shall better        
comprehend after we have glanced at the 
chief conditions of arrangement of the  
second kind of mass2 that which is flat1
 and of shadow only4    ,illustration3  

,,plate ,,vi4--7,page #ij--,vol4 ,v47   
,,arch ,,from ,,the ,,facade ,,of ,,the 
,,church ,,of ,,san ,,michele ,,at      
,,lucca4  ,,xviii4 ,we have noted above 
how the wall surface1 composed of rich  
materials1 and covered with costly work1
 in modes which we shall examine in the 
next ,chapter1 became a subject of      
peculiar interest to the ,christian     
architects4 ,its broad flat lights could
 only be made valuable by points or     
masses of energetic shadow1 which were  
obtained by the ,romanesque architect by
 means of ranges of recessed arcade1 in 
the management of which1 however1 though
 all the effect depends upon the shadow 
so obtained1 the eye is still1 as in    
classical architecture1 caused to dwell 
upon the projecting columns1 capitals1  
and wall1 as in ,plate ,,vi4 ,but with  
the enlargement of the window1 which1 in
 the ,lombard and ,romanesque churches1 
is usually little more than an arched   
slit1 came the conception of the simpler
 mode of decoration1 by penetrations    

which1 seen from within1 are forms of   
light1 and1 from without1 are forms of  
shade4 ,in ,italian traceries the eye is
 exclusively fixed upon the dark forms  
of the penetrations1 and the whole      
proportion and power of the design are  
caused to depend upon them4 ,the        
intermediate spaces are1 indeed1 in the 
most perfect early examples1 filled with
 elaborate ornament2 but this ornament  
was so subdued as never to disturb the  
simplicity and force of the dark masses2
 and in many instances is entirely      
wanting4 ,the composition of the whole  
depends on the proportioning and shaping
 of the darks2 and it is impossible that
 anything can be more exquisite than    
their placing in the head window of the 
,giotto campanile1 ,plate ,,ix41 or the 
church of ,or ,san ,michele4 ,so        
entirely does the effect depend upon    
them1 that it is quite useless to draw  
,italian tracery in outline2 if with any
 intention of rendering its effect1 it  
is better to mark the black spots1 and  

let the rest alone4 ,of course1 when it 
is desired to obtain an accurate        
rendering of the design1 its lines and  
mouldings are enough2 but it often      
happens that works on architecture are  
of little use1 because they afford the  
reader no means of judging of the       
effective intention of the arrangements 
which they state4 ,no person1 looking at
 an architectural drawing of the richly 
foliaged cusps and intervals of ,or ,san
 ,michele1 would understand that all    
this sculpture was extraneous1 was a    
mere added grace1 and had nothing to do 
with the real anatomy of the work1 and  
that by a few bold cuttings through a   
slab of stone he might reach the main   
effect of it all at once4 ,i have1      
therefore1 in the plate of the design of
 ,giotto1 endeavored especially to mark 
these points of purpose2 there1 as in   
every other instance1 black shadows of a
 graceful form lying on the white       
surface of the stone1 like dark leaves  
laid upon snow4 ,hence1 as before       

observed1 the universal name of foil    
applied to such ornaments4  ,,xix4 ,in  
order to the obtaining their full       
effect1 it is evident that much caution 
is necessary in the management of the   
glass4 ,in the finest instances1 the    
traceries are open lights1 either in    
towers1 as in this design of ,giotto's  
or in external arcades like that of the 
,campo ,santo at ,pisa or the ,doge's   
palace at ,venice2 and it is thus only  
that their full beauty is shown4 ,in    
domestic buildings1 or in windows of    
churches necessarily glazed1 the glass  
was usually withdrawn entirely behind   
the traceries4 ,those of the ,cathedral 
of ,florence stand quite clear of it1   
casting their shadows in well detached  
lines1 so as in most lights to give the 
appearance of a double tracery4 ,in     
those few instances in which the glass  
was set in the tracery itself1 as in ,or
 ,san ,michele1 the effect of the latter
 is half destroyed3 perhaps the especial
 attention paid by ,orgagna to his      

surface ornament1 was connected with the
 intention of so glazing them4 ,it is   
singular to see1 in late architecture1  
the glass1 which tormented the older    
architects1 considered as a valuable    
means of making the lines of tracery    
more slender2 as in the smallest        
intervals of the windows of ,merton     
,college1 ,oxford1 where the glass is   
advanced about two inches from the      
centre of the tracery bar 7that in the  
larger spaces being in the middle1 as   
usual71 in order to prevent the depth of
 shadow from farther diminishing the    
apparent interval4 ,much of the         
lightness of the effect of the traceries
 is owing to this seemingly unimportant 
arrangement4 ,but1 generally speaking1  
glass spoils all traceries2 and it is   
much to be wished that it should be kept
 well within them1 when it cannot be    
dispensed with1 and that the most       
careful and beautiful designs should be 
reserved for situations where no glass  
would be needed4    ,illustration3      

,,plate ,,vii4--7,page #ic--,vol4 ,v47  
,,pierced ,,ornaments ,,from ,,lisieux1 
,,bayeux1 ,,verona1 ,,and ,,padua4      
,,xx4 ,the method of decoration by      
shadow was1 as far as we have hitherto  
traced it1 common to the northern and   
southern ,gothic4 ,but in the carrying  
out of the system they instantly        
diverged4 ,having marble at his command1
 and classical decoration in his sight1 
the southern architect was able to carve
 the intermediate spaces with exquisite 
leafage1 or to vary his wall surface    
with inlaid stones4 ,the northern       
architect neither knew the ancient work1
 nor possessed the delicate material2   
and he had no resource but to cover his 
walls with holes1 cut into foiled shapes
 like those of the windows4 ,this he    
did1 often with great clumsiness1 but   
always with a vigorous sense of         
composition1 and always1 observe1       
depending on the shadows for effect4    
,where the wall was thick and could not 
be cut through1 and the foilings were   

large1 those shadows did not fill the   
entire space2 but the form was1         
nevertheless1 drawn on the eye by means 
of them1 and when it was possible1 they 
were cut clear through1 as in raised    
screens of pediment1 like those on the  
west front of ,bayeux2 cut so deep in   
every case1 as to secure1 in all but a  
direct low front light1 great breadth of
 shadow4  ,the spandril1 given at the   
top of ,plate ,,vii41 is from the       
southwestern entrance of the ,cathedral 
of ,lisieux2 one of the most quaint and 
interesting doors in ,normandy1 probably
 soon to be lost forever1 by the        
continuance of the masonic operations   
which have already destroyed the        
northern tower4 ,its work is altogether 
rude1 but full of spirit2 the opposite  
spandrils have different1 though        
balanced1 ornaments very inaccurately   
adjusted1 each rosette or star 7as the  
five-rayed figure1 now quite defaced1 in
 the upper portion appears to have been7
 cut on its own block of stone and      

fitted in with small nicety1 especially 
illustrating the point ,i have above    
insisted upon--the architect's utter    
neglect of the forms of intermediate    
stone1 at this early period4  ,the      
arcade1 of which a single arch and shaft
 are given on the left1 forms the flank 
of the door2 three outer shafts bearing 
three orders within the spandril which  
,i have drawn1 and each of these shafts 
carried over an inner arcade1 decorated 
above with quatre-foils1 cut concave and
 filled with leaves1 the whole          
disposition exquisitely picturesque and 
full of strange play of light and shade4
  ,for some time the penetrative        
ornaments1 if so they may be for        
convenience called1 maintained their    
bold and independent character4 ,then   
they multiplied and enlarged1 becoming  
shallower as they did so2 then they     
began to run together1 one swallowing   
up1 or hanging on to1 another1 like     
bubbles in expiring foam--fig4 #d1 from 
a spandril at ,bayeux1 looks as if it   

had been blown from a pipe2 finally1    
they lost their individual character    
altogether1 and the eye was made to rest
 on the separating lines of tracery1 as 
we saw before in the window2 and then   
came the great change and the fall of   
the ,gothic power4  ,,xxi4 ,figs4 #b and
 #c1 the one a quadrant of the star     
window of the little chapel close to    
,st4 ,anastasia at ,verona1 and the     
other a very singular example from the  
church of the ,eremitani at ,padua1     
compared with fig4 #e1 one of the       
ornaments of the transept towers of     
,rouen1 show the closely correspondent  
conditions of the early ,northern and   
,southern ,gothic4#aj ,but1 as we have  
said1 the ,italian architects1 not being
 embarrassed for decoration of wall     
surface1 and not being obliged1 like the
 ,northmen1 to multiply their           
penetrations1 held to the system for    
some time longer2 and while they        
increased the refinement of the         
ornament1 kept the purity of the plan4  

,that refinement of ornament was their  
weak point1 however1 and opened the way 
for the renaissance attack4 ,they fell1 
like the old ,romans1 by their luxury1  
except in the separate instance of the  
magnificent school of ,venice4 ,that    
architecture began with the luxuriance  
in which all others expired3 it founded 
itself on the ,byzantine mosaic and     
fretwork2 and laying aside its          
ornaments1 one by one1 while it fixed   
its forms by laws more and more severe1 
stood forth1 at last1 a model of        
domestic ,gothic1 so grand1 so complete1
 so nobly systematised1 that1 to my     
mind1 there never existed an            
architecture with so stern a claim to   
our reverence4 ,i do not except even the
 ,greek ,doric2 the ,doric had cast     
nothing away2 the fourteenth century    
,venetian had cast away1 one by one1 for
 a succession of centuries1 every       
splendor that art and wealth could give 
it4 ,it had laid down its crown and its 
jewels1 its gold and its color1 like a  

king disrobing2 it had resigned its     
exertion1 like an athlete reposing2 once
 capricious and fantastic1 it had bound 
itself by laws inviolable and serene as 
those of nature herself4 ,it retained   
nothing but its beauty and its power2   
both the highest1 but both restrained4  
,the ,doric flutings were of irregular  
number--the ,venetian mouldings were    
unchangeable4 ,the ,doric manner of     
ornament admitted no temptation1 it was 
the fasting of an anchorite--the        
,venetian ornament embraced1 while it   
governed1 all vegetable and animal      
forms2 it was the temperance of a man1  
the command of ,adam over creation4 ,i  
do not know so magnificent a marking of 
human authority as the iron grasp of the
 ,venetian over his own exuberance of   
imagination2 the calm and solemn        
restraint with which1 his mind filled   
with thoughts of flowing leafage and    
fiery life1 he gives those thoughts     
expression for an instant1 and then     
withdraws within those massy bars and   

level cusps of stone4#aa                
,illustration3 ,,plate ,,viii4--7,page  
#ie--,vol4 ,v47   ,,window ,,from ,,the 
,,ca' ,,foscari1 ,,venice4  ,and his    
power to do this depended altogether on 
his retaining the forms of the shadows  
in his sight4 ,far from carrying the eye
 to the ornaments1 upon the stone1 he   
abandoned these latter one by one2 and  
while his mouldings received the most   
shapely order and symmetry1 closely     
correspondent with that of the ,rouen   
tracery1 compare ,plates ,,iii4 and     
,,viii41 he kept the cusps within them  
perfectly flat1 decorated1 if at all1   
with a trefoil 7,palazzo ,foscari71 or  
fillet 7,doge's ,palace7 just traceable 
and no more1 so that the quatrefoil1 cut
 as sharply through them as if it had   
been struck out by a stamp1 told upon   
the eye1 with all its four black leaves1
 miles away4 ,no knots of flowerwork1 no
 ornaments of any kind1 were suffered to
 interfere with the purity of its form3 
the cusp is usually quite sharp2 but    

slightly truncated in the ,palazzo      
,foscari1 and charged with a simple ball
 in that of the ,doge2 and the glass of 
the window1 where there was any1 was1 as
 we have seen1 thrown back behind the   
stone-work1 that no flashes of light    
might interfere with its depth4         
,corrupted forms1 like those of the     
,casa d',oro and ,palazzo ,pisani1 and  
several others1 only serve to show the  
majesty of the common design4  ,,xxii4  
,such are the principal circumstances   
traceable in the treatment of the two   
kinds of masses of light and darkness1  
in the hands of the earlier architects2 
gradation in the one1 flatness in the   
other1 and breadth in both1 being the   
qualities sought and exhibited by every 
possible expedient1 up to the period    
when1 as we have before stated1 the line
 was substituted for the mass1 as the   
means of division of surface4 ,enough   
has been said to illustrate this1 as    
regards tracery2 but a word or two is   
still necessary respecting the          

mouldings4  ,those of the earlier times 
were1 in the plurality of instances1    
composed of alternate square and        
cylindrical shafts1 variously associated
 and proportioned4 ,where concave       
cuttings occur1 as in the beautiful west
 doors of ,bayeux1 they are between     
cylindrical shafts1 which they throw out
 into broad light4 ,the eye in all cases
 dwells on broad surfaces1 and commonly 
upon few4 ,in course of time1 a low     
ridgy process is seen emerging along the
 outer edge of the cylindrical shaft1   
forming a line of light upon it and     
destroying its gradation4 ,hardly       
traceable at first 7as on the alternate 
rolls of the north door of ,rouen71 it  
grows and pushes out as gradually as a  
stag's horns3 sharp at first on the     
edge2 but1 becoming prominent1 it       
receives a truncation1 and becomes a    
definite fillet on the face of the roll4
 ,not yet to be checked1 it pushes      
forward until the roll itself becomes   
subordinate to it1 and is finally lost  

in a slight swell upon its sides1 while 
the concavities have all the time been  
deepening and enlarging behind it1      
until1 from a succession of square or   
cylindrical masses1 the whole moulding  
has become a series of concavities edged
 by delicate fillets1 upon which 7sharp 
lines of light1 observe7 the eye        
exclusively rests4 ,while this has been 
taking place1 a similar1 though less    
total1 change has affected the          
flowerwork itself4 ,in ,plate ,i4 fig4  
#b 7a71 ,i have given two from the      
transepts of ,rouen4 ,it will be        
observed how absolutely the eye rests on
 the forms of the leaves1 and on the    
three berries in the angle1 being in    
light exactly what the trefoil is in    
darkness4 ,these mouldings nearly adhere
 to the stone2 and are very slightly1   
though sharply1 undercut4 ,in process of
 time1 the attention of the architect1  
instead of resting on the leaves1 went  
to the stalks4 ,these latter were       
elongated 7b1 from the south door of    

,st4 ,lo72 and to exhibit them better1  
the deep concavity was cut behind1 so as
 to throw them out in lines of light4   
,the system was carried out into        
continually increasing intricacy1 until1
 in the transepts of ,beauvais1 we have 
brackets and flamboyant traceries1      
composed of twigs without any leaves at 
all4 ,this1 however1 is a partial1      
though a sufficiently characteristic1   
caprice1 the leaf being never generally 
banished1 and in the mouldings round    
those same doors1 beautifully managed1  
but itself rendered liny by bold marking
 of its ribs and veins1 and by turning  
up1 and crisping its edges1 large       
intermediate spaces being always left to
 be occupied by intertwining stems 7c1  
from ,caudebec74 ,the trefoil of light  
formed by berries or acorns1 though     
diminished in value1 was never lost up  
to the last period of living ,gothic4   
,,xxiii4 ,it is interesting to follow   
into its many ramifications1 the        
influence of the corrupting principle2  

but we have seen enough of it to enable 
us to draw our practical conclusion--a  
conclusion a thousand times felt and    
reiterated in the experience and advice 
of every practised artist1 but never    
often enough repeated1 never profoundly 
enough felt4 ,of composition and        
invention much has been written1 it     
seems to me vainly1 for men cannot be   
taught to compose or to invent2 of      
these1 the highest elements of ,power in
 architecture1 ,i do not1 therefore1    
speak2 nor1 here1 of that peculiar      
restraint in the imitation of natural   
forms1 which constitutes the dignity of 
even the most luxuriant work of the     
great periods4 ,of this restraint ,i    
shall say a word or two in the next     
,chapter2 pressing now only the         
conclusion1 as practically useful as it 
is certain1 that the relative majesty of
 buildings depends more on the weight   
and vigor of their masses than on any   
other attribute of their design3 mass of
 everything1 of bulk1 of light1 of      

darkness1 of color1 not mere sum of any 
of these1 but breadth of them2 not      
broken light1 nor scattered darkness1   
nor divided weight1 but solid stone1    
broad sunshine1 starless shade4 ,time   
would fail me altogether1 if ,i         
attempted to follow out the range of the
 principle2 there is not a feature1     
however apparently trifling1 to which it
 cannot give power4 ,the wooden fillings
 of belfry lights1 necessary to protect 
their interiors from rain1 are in       
,england usually divided into a number  
of neatly executed cross-bars1 like     
those of ,venetian blinds1 which1 of    
course1 become as conspicuous in their  
sharpness as they are uninteresting in  
their precise carpentry1 multiplying1   
moreover1 the horizontal lines which    
directly contradict those of the        
architecture4 ,abroad1 such necessities 
are met by three or four downright      
penthouse roofs1 reaching each from     
within the window to the outside shafts 
of its mouldings2 instead of the        

horrible row of ruled lines1 the space  
is thus divided into four or five grand 
masses of shadow1 with grey slopes of   
roof above1 bent or yielding into all   
kinds of delicious swells and curves1   
and covered with warm tones of moss and 
lichen4 ,very often the thing is more   
delightful than the stone-work itself1  
and all because it is broad1 dark1 and  
simple4 ,it matters not how clumsy1 how 
common1 the means are1 that get weight  
and shadow--sloping roof1 jutting porch1
 projecting balcony1 hollow niche1 massy
 gargoyle1 frowning parapet2 get but    
gloom and simplicity1 and all good      
things will follow in their place and   
time2 do but design with the owl's eyes 
first1 and you will gain the falcon's   
afterwards4  ,,xxiv4 ,i am grieved to   
have to insist upon what seems so       
simple2 it looks trite and commonplace  
when it is written1 but pardon me this3 
for it is anything but an accepted or   
understood principle in practice1 and   
the less excusably forgotten1 because it

 is1 of all the great and true laws of  
art1 the easiest to obey4 ,the executive
 facility of complying with its demands 
cannot be too earnestly1 too frankly    
asserted4 ,there are not five men in the
 kingdom who could compose1 not twenty  
who could cut1 the foliage with which   
the windows of ,or ,san ,michele are    
adorned2 but there is many a village    
clergyman who could invent and dispose  
its black openings1 and not a village   
mason who could not cut them4 ,lay a few
 clover or wood-roof leaves on white    
paper1 and a little alteration in their 
positions will suggest figures which1   
cut boldly through a slab of marble1    
would be worth more window traceries    
than an architect could draw in a       
summer's day4 ,there are few men in the 
world who could design a ,greek capital2
 there are few who could not produce    
some vigor of effect with leaf designs  
on ,byzantine block3 few who could      
design a ,palladian front1 or a         
flamboyant pediment2 many who could     

build a square mass like the ,strozzi   
palace4 ,but ,i know not how it is1     
unless that our ,english hearts have    
more oak than stone in them1 and have   
more filial sympathy with acorns than   
,alps2 but all that we do is small and  
mean1 if not worse--thin1 and wasted1   
and unsubstantial4 ,it is not modern    
work only2 we have built like frogs and 
mice since the thirteenth century       
7except only in our castles74 ,what a   
contrast between the pitiful little     
pigeon-holes which stand for doors in   
the east front of ,salisbury1 looking   
like the entrances to a beehive or a    
wasp's nest1 and the soaring arches and 
kingly crowning of the gates of         
,abbeville1 ,rouen1 and ,rheims1 or the 
rock-hewn piers of ,chartres1 or the    
dark and vaulted porches and writhed    
pillars of ,verona6 ,of domestic        
architecture what need is there to      
speak8 ,how small1 how cramped1 how     
poor1 how miserable in its petty        
neatness is our best6 how beneath the   

mark of attack1 and the level of        
contempt1 that which is common with us6 
,what a strange sense of formalised     
deformity1 of shrivelled precision1 of  
starved accuracy1 of minute misanthropy 
have we1 as we leave even the rude      
streets of ,picardy for the market towns
 of ,kent6 ,until that street           
architecture of ours is bettered1 until 
we give it some size and boldness1 until
 we give our windows recess1 and our    
walls thickness1 ,i know not how we can 
blame our architects for their          
feebleness in more important work2 their
 eyes are inured to narrowness and      
slightness3 can we expect them at a word
 to conceive and deal with breadth and  
solidity8 ,they ought not to live in our
 cities2 there is that in their         
miserable walls which bricks up to death
 men's imaginations1 as surely as ever  
perished forsworn nun4 ,an architect    
should live as little in cities as a    
painter4 ,send him to our hills1 and let
 him study there what nature understands

 by a buttress1 and what by a dome4     
,there was something in the old power of
 architecture1 which it had from the    
recluse more than from the citizen4 ,the
 buildings of which ,i have spoken with 
chief praise1 rose1 indeed1 out of the  
war of the piazza1 and above the fury of
 the populace3 and ,heaven forbid that  
for such cause we should ever have to   
lay a larger stone1 or rivet a firmer   
bar1 in our ,england6 ,but we have other
 sources of power1 in the imagery of our
 iron coasts and azure hills2 of power  
more pure1 nor less serene1 than that of
 the hermit spirit which once lighted   
with white lines of cloisters the glades
 of the ,alpine pine1 and raised into   
ordered spires the wild rocks of the    
,norman sea2 which gave to the temple   
gate the depth and darkness of ,elijah's
 ,horeb cave2 and lifted1 out of the    
populous city1 grey cliffs of lonely    
stone1 into the midst of sailing birds  
and silent air4     ,,chapter ,,iv4     
,,the ,,lamp ,,of ,,beauty4   ,i4 ,it   

was stated1 in the outset of the        
preceding chapter1 that the value of    
architecture depended on two distinct   
characters3 the one1 the impression it  
receives from human power2 the other1   
the image it bears of the natural       
creation4 ,i have endeavored to show in 
what manner its majesty was attributable
 to a sympathy with the effort and      
trouble of human life 7a sympathy as    
distinctly perceived in the gloom and   
mystery of form1 as it is in the        
melancholy tones of sounds74 ,i desire  
now to trace that happier element of its
 excellence1 consisting in a noble      
rendering of images of ,beauty1 derived 
chiefly from the external appearances of
 organic nature4  ,it is irrelevant to  
our present purpose to enter into any   
inquiry respecting the essential causes 
of impressions of beauty4 ,i have partly
 expressed my thoughts on this matter in
 a previous work1 and ,i hope to        
develope them hereafter4 ,but since all 
such inquiries can only be founded on   

the ordinary understanding of what is   
meant by the term ,beauty1 and since    
they presume that the feeling of mankind
 on this subject is universal and       
instinctive1 ,i shall base my present   
investigation on this assumption2 and   
only asserting that to be beautiful     
which ,i believe will be granted me to  
be so without dispute1 ,i would endeavor
 shortly to trace the manner in which   
this element of delight is to be best   
engrafted upon architectural design1    
what are the purest sources from which  
it is to be derived1 and what the errors
 to be avoided in its pursuit4  ,,ii4   
,it will be thought that ,i have        
somewhat rashly limited the elements of 
architectural beauty to imitative forms4
 ,i do not mean to assert that every    
arrangement of line is directly         
suggested by a natural object2 but that 
all beautiful lines are adaptations of  
those which are commonest in the        
external creation2 that in proportion to
 the richness of their association1 the 

resemblance to natural work1 as a type  
and help1 must be more closely          
attempted1 and more clearly seen2 and   
that beyond a certain point1 and that a 
very low one1 man cannot advance in the 
invention of beauty1 without directly   
imitating natural form4 ,thus1 in the   
,doric temple1 the triglyph and cornice 
are unimitative2 or imitative only of   
artificial cuttings of wood4 ,no one    
would call these members beautiful4     
,their influence over us is in their    
severity and simplicity4 ,the fluting of
 the column1 which ,i doubt not was the 
,greek symbol of the bark of the tree1  
was imitative in its origin1 and feebly 
resembled many caniculated organic      
structures4 ,beauty is instantly felt in
 it1 but of a low order4 ,the decoration
 proper was sought in the true forms of 
organic life1 and those chiefly human4  
,again3 the ,doric capital was          
unimitative2 but all the beauty it had  
was dependent on the precision of its   
ovolo1 a natural curve of the most      

frequent occurrence4 ,the ,ionic capital
 7to my mind1 as an architectural       
invention1 exceedingly base7            
nevertheless depended for all the beauty
 that it had on its adoption of a spiral
 line1 perhaps the commonest of all that
 characterise the inferior orders of    
animal organism and habitation4 ,farther
 progress could not be made without a   
direct imitation of the acanthus leaf4  
,again3 the ,romanesque arch is         
beautiful as an abstract line4 ,its type
 is always before us in that of the     
apparent vault of heaven1 and horizon of
 the earth4 ,the cylindrical pillar is  
always beautiful1 for ,god has so       
moulded the stem of every tree that it  
is pleasant to the eyes4 ,the pointed   
arch is beautiful2 it is the termination
 of every leaf that shakes in summer    
wind1 and its most fortunate            
associations are directly borrowed from 
the trefoiled grass of the field1 or    
from the stars of its flowers4 ,further 
than this1 man's invention could not    

reach without frank imitation4 ,his next
 step was to gather the flowers         
themselves1 and wreathe them in his     
capitals4  ,,iii4 ,now1 ,i would insist 
especially on the fact1 of which ,i     
doubt not that further illustrations    
will occur to the mind of every reader1 
that all most lovely forms and thoughts 
are directly taken from natural objects2
 because ,i would fain be allowed to    
assume also the converse of this1       
namely1 that forms which are not taken  
from natural objects must be ugly4 ,i   
know this is a bold assumption2 but as  
,i have not space to reason out the     
points wherein essential beauty of form 
consists1 that being far too serious a  
work to be undertaken in a bye way1 ,i  
have no other resource than to use this 
accidental mark or test of beauty1 of   
whose truth the considerations which ,i 
hope hereafter to lay before the reader 
may assure him4 ,i say an accidental    
mark1 since forms are not beautiful     
because they are copied from nature2    

only it is out of the power of man to   
conceive beauty without her aid4 ,i     
believe the reader will grant me this1  
even from the examples above advanced2  
the degree of confidence with which it  
is granted must attach also to his      
acceptance of the conclusions which will
 follow from it2 but if it be granted   
frankly1 it will enable me to determine 
a matter of very essential importance1  
namely1 what is or is not ornament4 ,for
 there are many forms of so-called      
decoration in architecture1 habitual1   
and received1 therefore1 with approval1 
or at all events without any venture at 
expression or dislike1 which ,i have no 
hesitation in asserting to be not       
ornament at all1 but to be ugly things1 
the expense of which ought in truth to  
be set down in the architect's contract1
 as ,for ,monstrification4 ,i believe   
that we regard these customary          
deformities with a savage complacency1  
as an ,indian does his flesh patterns   
and paint 7all nations being in certain 

degrees and senses savage74 ,i believe  
that ,i can prove them to be monstrous1 
and ,i hope hereafter to do so          
conclusively2 but1 meantime1 ,i can     
allege in defence of my persuasion      
nothing but this fact of their being    
unnatural1 to which the reader must     
attach such weight as he thinks it      
deserves4 ,there is1 however1 a peculiar
 difficulty in using this proof2 it     
requires the writer to assume1 very     
impertinently1 that nothing is natural  
but what he has seen or supposes to     
exist4 ,i would not do this2 for ,i     
suppose there is no conceivable form or 
grouping of forms but in some part of   
the universe an example of it may be    
found4 ,but ,i think ,i am justified in 
considering those forms to be most      
natural which are most frequent2 or1    
rather1 that on the shapes which in the 
every-day world are familiar to the eyes
 of men1 ,god has stamped those         
characters of beauty which ,he has made 
it man's nature to love2 while in       

certain exceptional forms ,he has shown 
that the adoption of the others was not 
a matter of necessity1 but part of the  
adjusted harmony of creation4 ,i believe
 that thus we may reason from ,frequency
 to ,beauty and vice versa2 that knowing
 a thing to be frequent1 we may assume  
it to be beautiful2 and assume that     
which is most frequent to be most       
beautiful3 ,i mean1 of course1 visibly  
frequent2 for the forms of things which 
are hidden in caverns of the earth1 or  
in the anatomy of animal frames1 are    
evidently not intended by their ,maker  
to bear the habitual gaze of man4 ,and1 
again1 by frequency ,i mean that limited
 and isolated frequency which is        
characteristic of all perfection2 not   
mere multitude3 as a rose is a common   
flower1 but yet there are not so many   
roses on the tree as there are leaves4  
,in this respect ,nature is sparing of  
her highest1 and lavish of her less1    
beauty2 but ,i call the flower as       
frequent as the leaf1 because1 each in  

its allotted quantity1 where the one is1
 there will ordinarily be the other4    
,,iv4 ,the first so-called ornament1    
then1 which ,i would attack is that     
,greek fret1 now1 ,i believe1 usually   
known by the ,italian name ,guilloche1  
which is exactly a case in point4 ,it so
 happens that in crystals of bismuth    
formed by the unagitated cooling of the 
melted metal1 there occurs a natural    
resemblance of it almost perfect4 ,but  
crystals of bismuth not only are of     
unusual occurrence in every-day life1   
but their form is1 as far as ,i know1   
unique among minerals2 and not only     
unique1 but only attainable by an       
artificial process1 the metal itself    
never being found pure4 ,i do not       
remember any other substance or         
arrangement which presents a resemblance
 to this ,greek ornament2 and ,i think  
that ,i may trust my remembrance as     
including most of the arrangements which
 occur in the outward forms of common   
and familiar things4 ,on this ground1   

then1 ,i allege that ornament to be     
ugly2 or1 in the literal sense of the   
word1 monstrous2 different from anything
 which it is the nature of man to       
admire3 and ,i think an uncarved fillet 
or plinth infinitely preferable to one  
covered with this vile concatenation of 
straight lines3 unless indeed it be     
employed as a foil to a true ornament1  
which it may1 perhaps1 sometimes with   
advantage2 or excessively small1 as it  
occurs on coins1 the harshness of its   
arrangement being less perceived4  ,v4  
,often in association with this horrible
 design we find1 in ,greek works1 one   
which is as beautiful as this is        
painful--that egg and dart moulding1    
whose perfection in its place and way1  
has never been surpassed4 ,and why is   
this8 ,simply because the form of which 
it is chiefly composed is one not only  
familiar to us in the soft housing of   
the bird's nest1 but happens to be that 
of nearly every pebble that rolls and   
murmurs under the surf of the sea1 on   

all its endless shore4 ,and with that a 
peculiar accuracy2 for the mass which   
bears the light in this moulding is not 
in good ,greek work1 as in the frieze of
 the ,erechtheum1 merely of the shape of
 an egg4 ,it is flattened on the upper  
surface1 with a delicacy and keen sense 
of variety in the curve which it is     
impossible too highly to praise1        
attaining exactly that flattened1       
imperfect oval1 which1 in nine cases out
 of ten1 will be the form of the pebble 
lifted at random from the rolled beach4 
,leave out this flatness1 and the       
moulding is vulgar instantly4 ,it is    
singular also that the insertion of this
 rounded form in the hollow recess has a
 painted type in the plumage of the     
,argus pheasant1 the eyes of whose      
feathers are so shaded as exactly to    
represent an oval form placed in a      
hollow4  ,,vi4 ,it will evidently       
follow1 upon our application of this    
test of natural resemblance1 that we    
shall at once conclude that all         

perfectly beautiful forms must be       
composed of curves2 since there is      
hardly any common natural form in which 
it is possible to discover a straight   
line4 ,nevertheless1 ,architecture1     
having necessarily to deal with straight
 lines essential to its purposes in many
 instances and to the expression of its 
power in others1 must frequently be     
content with that measure of beauty     
which is consistent with such primal    
forms2 and we may presume that utmost   
measure of beauty to have been attained 
when the arrangements of such lines are 
consistent with the most frequent       
natural groupings of them we can        
discover1 although1 to find right lines 
in nature at all1 we may be compelled to
 do violence to her finished work1 break
 through the sculptured and colored     
surfaces of her crags1 and examine the  
processes of their crystallisation4     
,,vii4 ,i have just convicted the ,greek
 fret of ugliness1 because it has no    
precedent to allege for its arrangement 

except an artificial form of a rare     
metal4 ,let us bring into court an      
ornament of ,lombard architects1 ,plate 
,,xii41 fig4 #g1 as exclusively composed
 of right lines as the other1 only1     
observe1 with the noble element of      
shadow added4 ,this ornament1 taken from
 the front of the ,cathedral of ,pisa1  
is universal throughout the ,lombard    
churches of ,pisa1 ,lucca1 ,pistoja1 and
 ,florence2 and it will be a grave stain
 upon them if it cannot be defended4    
,its first apology for itself1 made in a
 hurry1 sounds marvellously like the    
,greek one1 and highly dubious4 ,it says
 that its terminal contour is the very  
image of a carefully prepared artificial
 crystal of common salt4 ,salt being1   
however1 a substance considerably more  
familiar to us than bismuth1 the chances
 are somewhat in favor of the accused   
,lombard ornament already4 ,but it has  
more to say for itself1 and more to the 
purpose2 namely1 that its main outline  
is one not only of natural              

crystallisation1 but among the very     
first and commonest of crystalline      
forms1 being the primal condition of the
 occurrence of the oxides of iron1      
copper1 and tin1 of the sulphurets of   
iron and lead1 of fluor spar1 c42 and   
that those projecting forms in its      
surface represent the conditions of     
structure which effect the change into  
another relative and equally common     
crystalline form1 the cube4 ,this is    
quite enough4 ,we may rest assured it is
 as good a combination of such simple   
right lines as can be put together1 and 
gracefully fitted for every place in    
which such lines are necessary4  ,,viii4
 ,the next ornament whose cause ,i would
 try is that of our ,tudor work1 the    
portcullis4 ,reticulation is common     
enough in natural form1 and very        
beautiful2 but it is either of the most 
delicate and gauzy texture1 or of       
variously sized meshes and undulating   
lines4 ,there is no family relation     
between portcullis and cobwebs or       

beetles' wings2 something like it1      
perhaps1 may be found in some kinds of  
crocodile armor and on the backs of the 
,northern divers1 but always beautifully
 varied in size of mesh4 ,there is a    
dignity in the thing itself1 if its size
 were exhibited1 and the shade given    
through its bars2 but even these merits 
are taken away in the ,tudor diminution 
of it1 set on a solid surface4 ,it has  
not a single syllable1 ,i believe1 to   
say in its defence4 ,it is another      
monster1 absolutely and unmitigatedly   
frightful4 ,all that carving on ,henry  
the ,seventh's ,chapel simply deforms   
the stones of it4  ,in the same clause  
with the portcullis1 we may condemn all 
heraldic decoration1 so far as beauty is
 its object4 ,its pride and significance
 have their proper place1 fitly         
occurring in prominent parts of the     
building1 as over its gates2 and        
allowably in places where its legendary 
may be plainly read1 as in painted      
windows1 bosses of ceilings1 c4 ,and    

sometimes1 of course1 the forms which it
 presents may be beautiful1 as of       
animals1 or simple symbols like the     
fleur-de-lis2 but1 for the most part1   
heraldic similitudes and arrangements   
are so professedly and pointedly        
unnatural1 that it would be difficult to
 invent anything uglier2 and the use of 
them as a repeated decoration will      
utterly destroy both the power and      
beauty of any building4 ,common sense   
and courtesy also forbid their          
repetition4 ,it is right to tell those  
who enter your doors that you are such a
 one1 and of such a rank2 but to tell it
 to them again and again1 wherever they 
turn1 becomes soon impertinence1 and at 
last folly4 ,let1 therefore1 the entire 
bearings occur in few places1 and these 
not considered as an ornament1 but as an
 inscription2 and for frequent          
appliance1 let any single and fair      
symbol be chosen out of them4 ,thus we  
may multiply as much as we choose the   
,french fleur-de-lis1 or the ,florentine

 giglio bianco1 or the ,english rose2   
but we must not multiply a ,king's arms4
  ,,ix4 ,it will also follow1 from these
 considerations1 that if any one part of
 heraldic decoration be worse than      
another1 it is the motto2 since1 of all 
things unlike nature1 the forms of      
letters are1 perhaps1 the most so4 ,even
 graphic tellurium and felspar look1 at 
their clearest1 anything but legible4   
,all letters are1 therefore1 to be      
considered as frightful things1 and to  
be endured only upon occasion2 that is  
to say1 in places where the sense of the
 inscription is of more importance than 
external ornament4 ,inscriptions in     
churches1 in rooms1 and on pictures1 are
 often desirable1 but they are not to be
 considered as architectural or         
pictorial ornaments3 they are1 on the   
contrary1 obstinate offences to the eye1
 not to be suffered except when their   
intellectual office introduces them4    
,place them1 therefore1 where they will 
be read1 and there only2 and let them be

 plainly written1 and not turned upside 
down1 nor wrong end first4 ,it is an ill
 sacrifice to beauty to make that       
illegible whose only merit is in its    
sense4 ,write it as you would speak it1 
simply2 and do not draw the eye to it   
when it would fain rest elsewhere1 nor  
recommend your sentence by anything but 
a little openness of place and          
architectural silence about it4 ,write  
the ,commandments on the ,church walls  
where they may be plainly seen1 but do  
not put a dash and a tail to every      
letter2 and remember that you are an    
architect1 not a writing master4  ,x4   
,inscriptions appear sometimes to be    
introduced for the sake of the scroll on
 which they are written2 and in late and
 modern painted glass1 as well as in    
architecture1 these scrolls are         
flourished and turned hither and thither
 as if they were ornamental4 ,ribands   
occur frequently in arabesques1--in some
 of a high order1 too1--tying up        
flowers1 or flitting in and out among   

the fixed forms4 ,is there anything like
 ribands in nature8 ,it might be thought
 that grass and sea-weed afforded       
apologetic types4 ,they do not4 ,there  
is a wide difference between their      
structure and that of a riband4 ,they   
have a skeleton1 an anatomy1 a central  
rib1 or fibre1 or framework of some kind
 or another1 which has a beginning and  
an end1 a root and head1 and whose make 
and strength effects every direction of 
their motion1 and every line of their   
form4 ,the loosest weed that drifts and 
waves under the heaving of the sea1 or  
hangs heavily on the brown and slippery 
shore1 has a marked strength1 structure1
 elasticity1 gradation of substance2 its
 extremities are more finely fibred than
 its centre1 its centre than its root2  
every fork of its ramification is       
measured and proportioned2 every wave of
 its languid lines is love4 ,it has its 
allotted size1 and place1 and function2 
it is a specific creature4 ,what is     
there like this in a riband8 ,it has no 

structure3 it is a succession of cut    
threads all alike2 it has no skeleton1  
no make1 no form1 no size1 no will of   
its own4 ,you cut it and crush it into  
what you will4 ,it has no strength1 no  
languor4 ,it cannot fall into a single  
graceful form4 ,it cannot wave1 in the  
true sense1 but only flutter3 it cannot 
bend1 in the true sense1 but only turn  
and be wrinkled4 ,it is a vile thing2 it
 spoils all that is near its wretched   
film of an existence4 ,never use it4    
,let the flowers come loose if they     
cannot keep together without being tied2
 leave the sentence unwritten if you    
cannot write it on a tablet or book1 or 
plain roll of paper4 ,i know what       
authority there is against me4 ,i       
remember the scrolls of ,perugino's     
angels1 and the ribands of ,raphael's   
arabesques1 and of ,ghiberti's glorious 
bronze flowers3 no matter2 they are     
every one of them vices and uglinesses4 
,raphael usually felt this1 and used an 
honest and rational tablet1 as in the   

,madonna di ,fuligno4 ,i do not say     
there is any type of such tablets in    
nature1 but all the difference lies in  
the fact that the tablet is not         
considered as an ornament1 and the      
riband1 or flying scroll1 is4 ,the      
tablet1 as in ,albert ,durer's ,adam and
 ,eve1 is introduced for the sake of the
 writing1 understood and allowed as an  
ugly but necessary interruption4 ,the   
scroll is extended as an ornamental     
form1 which it is not1 nor ever can be4 
,,xi4 ,but it will be said that all this
 want of organisation and form might be 
affirmed of drapery also1 and that this 
latter is a noble subject of sculpture4 
,by no means4 ,when was drapery a       
subject of sculpture by itself1 except  
in the form of a handkerchief on urns in
 the seventeenth century and in some of 
the baser scenic ,italian decorations8  
,drapery1 as such1 is always ignoble2 it
 becomes a subject of interest only by  
the colors it bears1 and the impressions
 which it receives from some foreign    

form or force4 ,all noble draperies1    
either in painting or sculpture 7color  
and texture being at present out of our 
consideration71 have1 so far as they are
 anything more than necessities1 one of 
two great functions2 they are the       
exponents of motion and of gravitation4 
,they are the most valuable means of    
expressing past as well as present      
motion in the figure1 and they are      
almost the only means of indicating to  
the eye the force of gravity which      
resists such motion4 ,the ,greeks used  
drapery in sculpture for the most part  
as an ugly necessity1 but availed       
themselves of it gladly in all          
representation of action1 exaggerating  
the arrangements of it which express    
lightness in the material1 and follow   
gesture in the person4 ,the ,christian  
sculptors1 caring little for the body1  
or disliking it1 and depending          
exclusively on the countenance1 received
 drapery at first contentedly as a veil1
 but soon perceived a capacity of       

expression in it which the ,greek had   
not seen or had despised4 ,the principal
 element of this expression was the     
entire removal of agitation from what   
was so pre-eminently capable of being   
agitated4 ,it fell from their human     
forms plumb down1 sweeping the ground   
heavily1 and concealing the feet2 while 
the ,greek drapery was often blown away 
from the thigh4 ,the thick and coarse   
stuffs of the monkish dresses1 so       
absolutely opposed to the thin and gauzy
 web of antique material1 suggested     
simplicity of division as well as weight
 of fall4 ,there was no crushing nor    
subdividing them4 ,and thus the drapery 
gradually came to represent the spirit  
of repose as it before had of motion1   
repose saintly and severe4 ,the wind had
 no power upon the garment1 as the      
passion none upon the soul2 and the     
motion of the figure only bent into a   
softer line the stillness of the falling
 veil1 followed by it like a slow cloud 
by drooping rain3 only in links of      

lighter undulation it followed the      
dances of the angels4  ,thus treated1   
drapery is indeed noble2 but it is as an
 exponent of other and higher things4   
,as that of gravitation1 it has especial
 majesty1 being literally the only means
 we have of fully representing this     
mysterious natural force of earth 7for  
falling water is less passive and less  
defined in its lines74 ,so1 again1 in   
sails it is beautiful because it        
receives the forms of solid curved      
surface1 and expresses the force of     
another invisible element4 ,but drapery 
trusted to its own merits1 and given for
 its own sake1--drapery like that of    
,carlo ,dolci and the ,caraccis1--is    
always base4  ,,xii4 ,closely connected 
with the abuse of scrolls and bands1 is 
that of garlands and festoons of flowers
 as an architectural decoration1 for    
unnatural arrangements are just as ugly 
as unnatural forms2 and architecture1 in
 borrowing the objects of nature1 is    
bound to place them1 as far as may be in

 her power1 in such associations as may 
befit and express their origin4 ,she is 
not to imitate directly the natural     
arrangement2 she is not to carve        
irregular stems of ivy up her columns to
 account for the leaves at the top1 but 
she is nevertheless to place her most   
exuberant vegetable ornament just where 
,nature would have placed it1 and to    
give some indication of that radical and
 connected structure which ,nature would
 have given it4 ,thus the ,corinthian   
capital is beautiful1 because it expands
 under the abacus just as ,nature would 
have expanded it2 and because it looks  
as if the leaves had one root1 though   
that root is unseen4 ,and the flamboyant
 leaf mouldings are beautiful1 because  
they nestle and run up the hollows1 and 
fill the angles1 and clasp the shafts   
which natural leaves would have         
delighted to fill and to clasp4 ,they   
are no mere cast of natural leaves2 they
 are counted1 orderly1 and              
architectural3 but they are naturally1  

and therefore beautifully1 placed4      
,,xiii4 ,now ,i do not mean to say that 
,nature never uses festoons3 she loves  
them1 and uses them lavishly2 and though
 she does so only in those places of    
excessive luxuriance wherein it seems to
 me that architectural types should     
seldom be sought1 yet a falling tendril 
or pendent bough might1 if managed with 
freedom and grace1 be well introduced   
into luxuriant decoration 7or if not1 it
 is not their want of beauty1 but of    
architectural fitness1 which            
incapacitates them for such uses74 ,but 
what resemblance to such example can we 
trace in a mass of all manner of fruit  
and flowers1 tied heavily into a long   
bunch1 thickest in the middle1 and      
pinned up by both ends against a dead   
wall8 ,for it is strange that the       
wildest and most fanciful of the        
builders of truly luxuriant architecture
 never ventured1 so far as ,i know1 even
 a pendent tendril2 while the severest  
masters of the revived ,greek permitted 

this extraordinary piece of luscious    
ugliness to be fastened in the middle of
 their blank surfaces4 ,so surely as    
this arrangement is adopted1 the whole  
value of the flower work is lost4 ,who  
among the crowds that gaze upon the     
building ever pause to admire the flower
 work of ,st4 ,paul's8 ,it is as careful
 and as rich as it can be1 yet it adds  
no delightfulness to the edifice4 ,it is
 no part of it4 ,it is an ugly          
excrescence4 ,we always conceive the    
building without it1 and should be      
happier if our conception were not      
disturbed by its presence4 ,it makes the
 rest of the architecture look          
poverty-stricken1 instead of sublime2   
and yet it is never enjoyed itself4 ,had
 it been put1 where it ought1 into the  
capitals1 it would have been beheld with
 never-ceasing delight4 ,i do not mean  
that it could have been so in the       
present building1 for such kind of      
architecture has no business with rich  
ornament in any place2 but that if those

 groups of flowers had been put into    
natural places in an edifice of another 
style1 their value would have been felt 
as vividly as now their uselessness4    
,what applies to festoons is still more 
sternly true of garlands4 ,a garland is 
meant to be seen upon a head4 ,there it 
is beautiful1 because we suppose it     
newly gathered and joyfully worn4 ,but  
it is not meant to be hung upon a wall4 
,if you want a circular ornament1 put a 
flat circle of colored marble1 as in the
 ,casa ,doria and other such palaces at 
,venice2 or put a star1 or a medallion1 
or if you want a ring1 put a solid one1 
but do not carve the images of garlands1
 looking as if they had been used in the
 last procession1 and been hung up to   
dry1 and serve next time withered4 ,why 
not also carve pegs1 and hats upon them8
  ,,xiv4 ,one of the worst enemies of   
modern ,gothic architecture1 though     
seemingly an unimportant feature1 is an 
excrescence1 as offensive by its poverty
 as the garland by its profusion1 the   

dripstone in the shape of the handle of 
a chest of drawers1 which is used over  
the square-headed windows of what we    
call ,elizabethan buildings4 ,in the    
last ,chapter1 it will be remembered    
that the square form was shown to be    
that of pre-eminent ,power1 and to be   
properly adapted and limited to the     
exhibition of space or surface4 ,hence1 
when the window is to be an exponent of 
power1 as for instance in those by ,m4  
,angelo in the lower story of the       
,palazzo ,ricardi at ,florence1 the     
square head is the most noble form they 
can assume2 but then either their space 
must be unbroken1 and their associated  
mouldings the most severe1 or else the  
square must be used as a finial outline1
 and is chiefly to be associated with   
forms of tracery1 in which the relative 
form of power1 the circle1 is           
predominant1 as in ,venetian1 and       
,florentine1 and ,pisan ,gothic4 ,but if
 you break upon your terminal square1 or
 if you cut its lines off at the top and

 turn them outwards1 you have lost its  
unity and space4 ,it is an including    
form no longer1 but an added1 isolated  
line1 and the ugliest possible4 ,look   
abroad into the landscape and see if you
 can discover any one so bent and       
fragmentary as that of this strange     
windlass-looking dripstone4 ,you cannot4
 ,it is a monster4 ,it unites every     
element of ugliness1 its line is harshly
 broken in itself1 and unconnected with 
every other2 it has no harmony either   
with structure or decoration1 it has no 
architectural support1 it looks glued to
 the wall1 and the only pleasant        
property it has1 is the appearance of   
some likelihood of its dropping off4  ,i
 might proceed1 but the task is a weary 
one1 and ,i think ,i have named those   
false forms of decoration which are most
 dangerous in our modern architecture as
 being legal and accepted4 ,the         
barbarisms of individual fancy are as   
countless as they are contemptible2 they
 neither admit attack nor are worth it2 

but these above named are countenanced1 
some by the practice of antiquity1 all  
by high authority3 they have depressed  
the proudest1 and contaminated the      
purest schools1 and are so established  
in recent practice that ,i write rather 
for the barren satisfaction of bearing  
witness against them1 than with hope of 
inducing any serious convictions to     
their prejudice4  ,,xv4 ,thus far of    
what is not ornament4 ,what ornament is1
 will without difficulty be determined  
by the application of the same test4 ,it
 must consist of such studious          
arrangements of form as are imitative or
 suggestive of those which are commonest
 among natural existences1 that being of
 course the noblest ornament which      
represents the highest orders of        
existence4 ,imitated flowers are nobler 
than imitated stones1 imitated animals1 
than flowers2 imitated human form of all
 animal forms the noblest4 ,but all are 
combined in the richest ornamental work2
 and the rock1 the fountain1 the flowing

 river with its pebbled bed1 the sea1   
the clouds of ,heaven1 the herb of the  
field1 the fruit-tree bearing fruit1 the
 creeping thing1 the bird1 the beast1   
the man1 and the angel1 mingle their    
fair forms on the bronze of ,ghiberti4  
,every thing being then ornamental that 
is imitative1 ,i would ask the reader's 
attention to a few general              
considerations1 all that can here be    
offered relating to so vast a subject2  
which1 for convenience sake1 may be     
classed under the three heads of        
inquiry3--,what is the right place for  
architectural ornament8 ,what is the    
peculiar treatment of ornament which    
renders it architectural8 and what is   
the right use of color as associated    
with architectural imitative form8      
,,xvi4 ,what is the place of ornament8  
,consider first that the characters of  
natural objects which the architect can 
represent are few and abstract4 ,the    
greater part of those delights by which 
,nature recommends herself to man at all

 times1 cannot be conveyed by him into  
his imitative work4 ,he cannot make his 
grass green and cool and good to rest   
upon1 which in nature is its chief use  
to man2 nor can he make his flowers     
tender and full of color and of scent1  
which in nature are their chief powers  
of giving joy4 ,those qualities which   
alone he can secure are certain severe  
characters of form1 such as men only see
 in nature on deliberate examination1   
and by the full and set appliance of    
sight and thought3 a man must lie down  
on the bank of grass on his breast and  
set himself to watch and penetrate the  
intertwining of it1 before he finds that
 which is good to be gathered by the    
architect4 ,so then while ,nature is at 
all times pleasant to us1 and while the 
sight and sense of her work may mingle  
happily with all our thoughts1 and      
labors1 and times of existence1 that    
image of her which the architect carries
 away represents what we can only       
perceive in her by direct intellectual  

exertion1 and demands from us1 wherever 
it appears1 an intellectual exertion of 
a similar kind in order to understand it
 and feel it4 ,it is the written or     
sealed impression of a thing sought out1
 it is the shaped result of inquiry and 
bodily expression of thought4  ,,xvii4  
,now let us consider for an instant what
 would be the effect of continually     
repeating an expression of a beautiful  
thought to any other of the senses at   
times when the mind could not address   
that sense to the understanding of it4  
,suppose that in time of serious        
occupation1 of stern business1 a        
companion should repeat in our ears     
continually some favorite passage of    
poetry1 over and over again all day     
long4 ,we should not only soon be       
utterly sick and weary of the sound of  
it1 but that sound would at the end of  
the day have so sunk into the habit of  
the ear that the entire meaning of the  
passage would be dead to us1 and it     
would ever thenceforward require some   

effort to fix and recover it4 ,the music
 of it would not meanwhile have aided   
the business in hand1 while its own     
delightfulness would thenceforward be in
 a measure destroyed4 ,it is the same   
with every other form of definite       
thought4 ,if you violently present its  
expression to the senses1 at times when 
the mind is otherwise engaged1 that     
expression will be ineffective at the   
time1 and will have its sharpness and   
clearness destroyed forever4 ,much more 
if you present it to the mind at times  
when it is painfully affected or        
disturbed1 or if you associate the      
expression of pleasant thought with     
incongruous circumstances1 you will     
affect that expression thenceforward    
with a painful color for ever4  ,,xviii4
 ,apply this to expressions of thought  
received by the eye4 ,remember that the 
eye is at your mercy more than the ear4 
,the eye it cannot choose but see4 ,its 
nerve is not so easily numbed as that of
 the ear1 and it is often busied in     

tracing and watching forms when the ear 
is at rest4 ,now if you present lovely  
forms to it when it cannot call the mind
 to help it in its work1 and among      
objects of vulgar use and unhappy       
position1 you will neither please the   
eye nor elevate the vulgar object4 ,but 
you will fill and weary the eye with the
 beautiful form1 and you will infect    
that form itself with the vulgarity of  
the thing to which you have violently   
attached it4 ,it will never be of much  
use to you any more2 you have killed or 
defiled it2 its freshness and purity are
 gone4 ,you will have to pass it through
 the fire of much thought before you    
will cleanse it1 and warm it with much  
love before it will revive4  ,,xix4     
,hence then a general law1 of singular  
importance in the present day1 a law of 
simple common sense1--not to decorate   
things belonging to purposes of active  
and occupied life4 ,wherever you can    
rest1 there decorate2 where rest is     
forbidden1 so is beauty4 ,you must not  

mix ornament with business1 any more    
than you may mix play4 ,work first1 and 
then rest4 ,work first and then gaze1   
but do not use golden ploughshares1 nor 
bind ledgers in enamel4 ,do not thrash  
with sculptured flails3 nor put         
bas-reliefs on millstones4 ,what6 it    
will be asked1 are we in the habit of   
doing so8 ,even so2 always and          
everywhere4 ,the most familiar position 
of ,greek mouldings is in these days on 
shop fronts4 ,there is not a tradesman's
 sign nor shelf nor counter in all the  
streets of all our cities1 which has not
 upon it ornaments which were invented  
to adorn temples and beautify kings'    
palaces4 ,there is not the smallest     
advantage in them where they are4       
,absolutely valueless--utterly without  
the power of giving pleasure1 they only 
satiate the eye1 and vulgarise their own
 forms4 ,many of these are in themselves
 thoroughly good copies of fine things1 
which things themselves we shall never1 
in consequence1 enjoy any more4 ,many a 

pretty beading and graceful bracket     
there is in wood or stucco above our    
grocers' and cheese-mongers' and        
hosiers' shops3 how it is that the      
tradesmen cannot understand that custom 
is to be had only by selling good tea   
and cheese and cloth1 and that people   
come to them for their honesty1 and     
their readiness1 and their right wares1 
and not because they have ,greek        
cornices over their windows1 or their   
names in large gilt letters on their    
house fronts8 how pleasurable it would  
be to have the power of going through   
the streets of ,london1 pulling down    
those brackets and friezes and large    
names1 restoring to the tradesmen the   
capital they had spent in architecture1 
and putting them on honest and equal    
terms1 each with his name in black      
letters over his door1 not shouted down 
the street from the upper stories1 and  
each with a plain wooden shop casement1 
with small panes in it that people would
 not think of breaking in order to be   

sent to prison6 ,how much better for    
them would it be--how much happier1 how 
much wiser1 to put their trust upon     
their own truth and industry1 and not on
 the idiocy of their customers4 ,it is  
curious1 and it says little for our     
national probity on the one hand1 or    
prudence on the other1 to see the whole 
system of our street decoration based on
 the idea that people must be baited to 
a shop as moths are to a candle4  ,,xx4 
,but it will be said that much of the   
best wooden decoration of the middle    
ages was in shop fronts4 ,no2 it was in 
house fronts1 of which the shop was a   
part1 and received its natural and      
consistent portion of the ornament4 ,in 
those days men lived1 and intended to   
live by their shops1 and over them1 all 
their days4 ,they were contented with   
them and happy in them3 they were their 
palaces and castles4 ,they gave them    
therefore such decoration as made       
themselves happy in their own           
habitation1 and they gave it for their  

own sake4 ,the upper stories were always
 the richest1 and the shop was decorated
 chiefly about the door1 which belonged 
to the house more than to it4 ,and when 
our tradesmen settle to their shops in  
the same way1 and form no plans         
respecting future villa architecture1   
let their whole houses be decorated1 and
 their shops too1 but with a national   
and domestic decoration 7,i shall speak 
more of this point in the sixth         
chapter74 ,however1 our cities are for  
the most part too large to admit of     
contented dwelling in them throughout   
life2 and ,i do not say there is harm in
 our present system of separating the   
shop from the dwelling-house2 only where
 they are so separated1 let us remember 
that the only reason for shop decoration
 is removed1 and see that the decoration
 be removed also4  ,,xxi4 ,another of   
the strange and evil tendencies of the  
present day is to the decoration of the 
railroad station4 ,now1 if there be any 
place in the world in which people are  

deprived of that portion of temper and  
discretion which are necessary to the   
contemplation of beauty1 it is there4   
,it is the very temple of discomfort1   
and the only charity that the builder   
can extend to us is to show us1 plainly 
as may be1 how soonest to escape from   
it4 ,the whole system of railroad       
travelling is addressed to people who1  
being in a hurry1 are therefore1 for the
 time being1 miserable4 ,no one would   
travel in that manner who could help    
it--who had time to go leisurely over   
hills and between hedges1 instead of    
through tunnels and between banks3 at   
least those who would1 have no sense of 
beauty so acute as that we need consult 
it at the station4 ,the railroad is in  
all its relations a matter of earnest   
business1 to be got through as soon as  
possible4 ,it transmutes a man from a   
traveller into a living parcel4 ,for the
 time he has parted with the nobler     
characteristics of his humanity for the 
sake of a planetary power of locomotion4

 ,do not ask him to admire anything4    
,you might as well ask the wind4 ,carry 
him safely1 dismiss him soon3 he will   
thank you for nothing else4 ,all        
attempts to please him in any other way 
are mere mockery1 and insults to the    
things by which you endeavor to do so4  
,there never was more flagrant nor      
impertinent folly than the smallest     
portion of ornament in anything         
concerned with railroads or near them4  
,keep them out of the way1 take them    
through the ugliest country you can     
find1 confess them the miserable things 
they are1 and spend nothing upon them   
but for safety and speed4 ,give large   
salaries to efficient servants1 large   
prices to good manufacturers1 large     
wages to able workmen2 let the iron be  
tough1 and the brickwork solid1 and the 
carriages strong4 ,the time is perhaps  
not distant when these first necessities
 may not be easily met3 and to increase 
expense in any other direction is       
madness4 ,better bury gold in the       

embankments1 than put it in ornaments on
 the stations4 ,will a single traveller 
be willing to pay an increased fare on  
the ,south ,western1 because the columns
 of the terminus are covered with       
patterns from ,nineveh8 ,he will only   
care less for the ,ninevite ivories in  
the ,british ,museum3 or on the ,north  
,western1 because there are old         
,english-looking spandrils to the roof  
of the station at ,crewe8 ,he will only 
have less pleasure in their prototypes  
at ,crewe ,house4 ,railroad architecture
 has or would have a dignity of its own 
if it were only left to its work4 ,you  
would not put rings on the fingers of a 
smith at his anvil4  ,,xxii4 ,it is not 
however only in these marked situations 
that the abuse of which ,i speak takes  
place4 ,there is hardly1 at present1 an 
application of ornamental work1 which is
 not in some sort liable to blame of the
 same kind4 ,we have a bad habit of     
trying to disguise disagreeable         
necessities by some form of sudden      

decoration1 which is1 in all other      
places1 associated with such            
necessities4 ,i will name only one      
instance1 that to which ,i have alluded 
before--the roses which conceal the     
ventilators in the flat roofs of our    
chapels4 ,many of those roses are of    
very beautiful design1 borrowed from    
fine works3 all their grace and finish  
are invisible when they are so placed1  
but their general form is afterwards    
associated with the ugly buildings in   
which they constantly occur2 and all the
 beautiful roses of the early ,french   
and ,english ,gothic1 especially such   
elaborate ones as those of the triforium
 of ,coutances1 are in consequence      
deprived of their pleasurable influence3
 and this without our having            
accomplished the smallest good by the   
use we have made of the dishonored form4
 ,not a single person in the            
congregation ever receives one ray of   
pleasure from those roof roses2 they are
 regarded with mere indifference1 or    

lost in the general impression of harsh 
emptiness4  ,,xxiii4 ,must not beauty1  
then1 it will be asked1 be sought for in
 the forms which we associate with our  
every-day life8 ,yes1 if you do it      
consistently1 and in places where it can
 be calmly seen2 but not if you use the 
beautiful form only as a mask and       
covering of the proper conditions and   
uses of things1 nor if you thrust it    
into the places set apart for toil4 ,put
 it in the drawing-room1 not into the   
workshop2 put it upon domestic          
furniture1 not upon tools of handicraft4
 ,all men have sense of what is right in
 this manner1 if they would only use and
 apply that sense2 every man knows where
 and how beauty gives him pleasure1 if  
he would only ask for it when it does   
so1 and not allow it to be forced upon  
him when he does not want it4 ,ask any  
one of the passengers over ,london      
,bridge at this instant whether he cares
 about the forms of the bronze leaves on
 its lamps1 and he will tell you1 ,no4  

,modify these forms of leaves to a less 
scale1 and put them on his milk-jug at  
breakfast1 and ask him whether he likes 
them1 and he will tell you1 ,yes4       
,people have no need of teaching if they
 could only think and speak truth1 and  
ask for what they like and want1 and for
 nothing else3 nor can a right          
disposition of beauty be ever arrived at
 except by this common sense1 and       
allowance for the circumstances of the  
time and place4 ,it does not follow1    
because bronze leafage is in bad taste  
on the lamps of ,london ,bridge1 that it
 would be so on those of the ,ponte     
della ,trinita2 nor1 because it would be
 a folly to decorate the house fronts of
 ,gracechurch ,street1 that it would be 
equally so to adorn those of some quiet 
provincial town4 ,the question of       
greatest external or internal decoration
 depends entirely on the conditions of  
probable repose4 ,it was a wise feeling 
which made the streets of ,venice so    
rich in external ornament1 for there is 

no couch of rest like the gondola4 ,so1 
again1 there is no subject of street    
ornament so wisely chosen as the        
fountain1 where it is a fountain of use2
 for it is just there that perhaps the  
happiest pause takes place in the labor 
of the day1 when the pitcher is rested  
on the edge of it1 and the breath of the
 bearer is drawn deeply1 and the hair   
swept from the forehead1 and the        
uprightness of the form declined against
 the marble ledge1 and the sound of the 
kind word or light laugh mixes with the 
trickle of the falling water1 heard     
shriller and shriller as the pitcher    
fills4 ,what pause is so sweet as       
that--so full of the depth of ancient   
days1 so softened with the calm of      
pastoral solitude8  ,,xxiv4 ,,ii4 ,thus 
far1 then1 of the place for beauty4 ,we 
were next to inquire into the characters
 which fitted it peculiarly for         
architectural appliance1 and into the   
principles of choice and of arrangement 
which best regulate the imitation of    

natural forms in which it consists4 ,the
 full answering of these questions would
 be a treatise on the art of design3 ,i 
intend only to say a few words          
respecting the two conditions of that   
art which are essentially               
architectural1--,proportion and         
,abstraction4 ,neither of these         
qualities is necessary1 to the same     
extent1 in other fields of design4 ,the 
sense of proportion is1 by the landscape
 painter1 frequently sacrificed to      
character and accident2 the power of    
abstraction to that of complete         
realisation4 ,the flowers of his        
foreground must often be unmeasured in  
their quantity1 loose in their          
arrangement3 what is calculated1 either 
in quantity or disposition1 must be     
artfully concealed4 ,that calculation is
 by the architect to be prominently     
exhibited4 ,so the abstraction of few   
characteristics out of many is shown    
only in the painter's sketch2 in his    
finished work it is concealed or lost in

 completion4 ,architecture1 on the      
contrary1 delights in ,abstraction and  
fears to complete her forms4 ,proportion
 and ,abstraction1 then1 are the two    
especial marks of architectural design  
as distinguished from all other4        
,sculpture must have them in inferior   
degrees2 leaning1 on the one hand1 to an
 architectural manner1 when it is       
usually greatest 7becoming1 indeed1 a   
part of ,architecture71 and1 on the     
other1 to a pictorial manner1 when it is
 apt to lose its dignity1 and sink into 
mere ingenious carving4  ,,xxv4 ,now1 of
 ,proportion so much has been written1  
that ,i believe the only facts which are
 of practical use have been overwhelmed 
and kept out of sight by vain           
accumulations of particular instances   
and estimates4 ,proportions are as      
infinite 7and that in all kinds of      
things1 as severally in colors1 lines1  
shades1 lights1 and forms7 as possible  
airs in music3 and it is just as        
rational an attempt to teach a young    

architect how to proportion truly and   
well by calculating for him the         
proportions of fine works1 as it would  
be to teach him to compose melodies by  
calculating the mathematical relations  
of the notes in ,beethoven's ,adelaide  
or ,mozart's ,requiem4 ,the man who has 
eye and intellect will invent beautiful 
proportions1 and cannot help it2 but he 
can no more tell us how to do it than   
,wordsworth could tell us how to write a
 sonnet1 or than ,scott could have told 
us how to plan a romance4 ,but there are
 one or two general laws which can be   
told3 they are of no use1 indeed1 except
 as preventives of gross mistake1 but   
they are so far worth telling and       
remembering2 and the more so because1 in
 the discussion of the subtle laws of   
proportion 7which will never be either  
numbered or known71 architects are      
perpetually forgetting and transgressing
 the very simplest of its necessities4  
,,xxvi4 ,of which the first is1 that    
wherever ,proportion exists at all1 one 

member of the composition must be either
 larger than1 or in some way supreme    
over1 the rest4 ,there is no proportion 
between equal things4 ,they can have    
symmetry only1 and symmetry without     
proportion is not composition4 ,it is   
necessary to perfect beauty1 but it is  
the least necessary of its elements1 nor
 of course is there any difficulty in   
obtaining it4 ,any succession of equal  
things is agreeable2 but to compose is  
to arrange unequal things1 and the first
 thing to be done in beginning a        
composition is to determine which is to 
be the principal thing4 ,i believe that 
all that has been written and taught    
about proportion1 put together1 is not  
to the architect worth the single rule1 
well enforced1 ,have one large thing and
 several smaller things1 or one         
principal thing and several inferior    
things1 and bind them well together4    
,sometimes there may be a regular       
gradation1 as between the heights of    
stories in good designs for houses2     

sometimes a monarch with a lowly train1 
as in the spire with its pinnacles3 the 
varieties of arrangement are infinite1  
but the law is universal--have one thing
 above the rest1 either by size1 or     
office1 or interest4 ,don't put the     
pinnacles without the spire4 ,what a    
host of ugly church towers have we in   
,england1 with pinnacles at the corners1
 and none in the middle6 ,how many      
buildings like ,king's ,college ,chapel 
at ,cambridge1 looking like tables      
upside down1 with their four legs in the
 air6 ,what6 it will be said1 have not  
beasts four legs8 ,yes1 but legs of     
different shapes1 and with a head       
between them4 ,so they have a pair of   
ears3 and perhaps a pair of horns3 but  
not at both ends4 ,knock down a couple  
of pinnacles at either end in ,king's   
,college ,chapel1 and you will have a   
kind of proportion instantly4 ,so in a  
cathedral you may have one tower in the 
centre1 and two at the west end2 or two 
at the west end only1 though a worse    

arrangement3 but you must not have two  
at the west and two at the east end1    
unless you have some central member to  
connect them2 and even then1 buildings  
are generally bad which have large      
balancing features at the extremities1  
and small connecting ones in the centre1
 because it is not easy then to make the
 centre dominant4 ,the bird or moth may 
indeed have wide wings1 because the size
 of the wing does not give supremacy to 
the wing4 ,the head and life are the    
mighty things1 and the plumes1 however  
wide1 are subordinate4 ,in fine west    
fronts with a pediment and two towers1  
the centre is always the principal mass1
 both in bulk and interest 7as having   
the main gateway71 and the towers are   
subordinated to it1 as an animal's horns
 are to its head4 ,the moment the towers
 rise so high as to overpower the body  
and centre1 and become themselves the   
principal masses1 they will destroy the 
proportion1 unless they are made        
unequal1 and one of them the leading    

feature of the cathedral1 as at ,antwerp
 and ,strasburg4 ,but the purer method  
is to keep them down in due relation to 
the centre1 and to throw up the pediment
 into a steep connecting mass1 drawing  
the eye to it by rich tracery4 ,this is 
nobly done in ,st4 ,wulfran of          
,abbeville1 and attempted partly at     
,rouen1 though that west front is made  
up of so many unfinished and supervening
 designs that it is impossible to guess 
the real intention of any one of its    
builders4    ,illustration3 ,,plate     
,x4--7,page #abb--,vol4 ,v47            
,,traceries ,,and ,,mouldings ,,from    
,,rouen ,,and ,,salisbury4  ,,xxvii4    
,this rule of supremacy applies to the  
smallest as well as to the leading      
features3 it is interestingly seen in   
the arrangement of all good mouldings4  
,i have given one1 on the opposite page1
 from ,rouen cathedral2 that of the     
tracery before distinguished as a type  
of the noblest manner of ,northern      
,gothic 7,chap4 ,,ii4 ,sec4 ,,xxii474   

,it is a tracery of three orders1 of    
which the first is divided into a leaf  
moulding1 fig4 #d1 and b in the section1
 and a plain roll1 also seen in fig4 #d1
 c in the section2 these two divisions  
surround the entire window or panelling1
 and are carried by two-face shafts of  
corresponding sections4 ,the second and 
third orders are plain rolls following  
the line of the tracery2 four divisions 
of moulding in all3 of these four1 the  
leaf moulding is1 as seen in the        
sections1 much the largest2 next to it  
the outer roll2 then1 by an exquisite   
alternation1 the innermost roll 7e71 in 
order that it may not be lost in the    
recess and the intermediate 7d71 the    
smallest4 ,each roll has its own shaft  
and capital2 and the two smaller1 which 
in effect upon the eye1 owing to the    
retirement of the innermost1 are nearly 
equal1 have smaller capitals than the   
two larger1 lifted a little to bring    
them to the same level4 ,the wall in the
 trefoiled lights is curved1 as from e  

to f in the section2 but in the         
quatrefoil it is flat1 only thrown back 
to the full depth of the recess below so
 as to get a sharp shadow instead of a  
soft one1 the mouldings falling back to 
it in nearly a vertical curve behind the
 roll e4 ,this could not1 however1 be   
managed with the simpler mouldings of   
the smaller quatrefoil above1 whose half
 section is given from g to g#b2 but the
 architect was evidently fretted by the 
heavy look of its circular foils as     
opposed to the light spring of the      
arches below3 so he threw its cusps     
obliquely clear from the wall1 as seen  
in fig4 #b1 attached to it where they   
meet the circle1 but with their finials 
pushed out from the natural level 7h1 in
 the section7 to that of the first order
 7g#b7 and supported by stone props     
behind1 as seen in the profile fig4 #b1 
which ,i got from the correspondent     
panel on the buttress face 7fig4 #a     
being on its side71 and of which the    
lower cusps1 being broken away1 show the

 remnant of one of their props          
projecting from the wall4 ,the oblique  
curve thus obtained in the profile is of
 singular grace4 ,take it all in all1 ,i
 have never met with a more exquisite   
piece of varied1 yet severe1            
proportioned and general arrangement    
7though all the windows of the period   
are fine1 and especially delightful in  
the subordinate proportioning of the    
smaller capitals to the smaller shafts74
 ,the only fault it has is the          
inevitable misarrangement of the central
 shafts2 for the enlargement of the     
inner roll1 though beautiful in the     
group of four divisions at the side1    
causes1 in the triple central shaft1 the
 very awkwardness of heavy lateral      
members which has just been in most     
instances condemned4 ,in the windows of 
the choir1 and in most of the period1   
this difficulty is avoided by making the
 fourth order a fillet which only       
follows the foliation1 while the three  
outermost are nearly in arithmetical    

progression of size1 and the central    
triple shaft has of course the largest  
roll in front4 ,the moulding of the     
,palazzo ,foscari 7,plate ,,viii41 and  
,plate ,,iv4 fig4 #h7 is1 for so simple 
a group1 the grandest in effect ,i have 
even seen3 it is composed of a large    
roll with two subordinates4  ,,xxviii4  
,it is of course impossible to enter    
into details of instances belonging to  
so intricate division of our subject1 in
 the compass of a general essay4 ,i can 
but rapidly name the chief conditions of
 right4 ,another of these is the        
connection of ,symmetry with horizontal1
 and of ,proportion with vertical1      
division4 ,evidently there is in        
symmetry a sense not merely of equality1
 but of balance3 now a thing cannot be  
balanced by another on the top of it1   
though it may by one at the side of it4 
,hence1 while it is not only allowable1 
but often necessary1 to divide          
buildings1 or parts of them1            
horizontally into halves1 thirds1 or    

other equal parts1 all vertical         
divisions of this kind are utterly      
wrong2 worst into half1 next worst in   
the regular numbers which more betray   
the equality4 ,i should have thought    
this almost the first principle of      
proportion which a young architect was  
taught3 and yet ,i remember an important
 building1 recently erected in ,england1
 in which the columns are cut in half by
 the projecting architraves of the      
central windows2 and it is quite usual  
to see the spires of modern ,gothic     
churches divided by a band of ornament  
half way up4 ,in all fine spires there  
are two bands and three parts1 as at    
,salisbury4 ,the ornamented portion of  
the tower is there cut in half1 and     
allowably1 because the spire forms the  
third mass to which the other two are   
subordinate3 two stories are also equal 
in ,giotto's campanile1 but dominant    
over smaller divisions below1 and       
subordinated to the noble third above4  
,even this arrangement is difficult to  

treat2 and it is usually safer to       
increase or diminish the height of the  
divisions regularly as they rise1 as in 
the ,doge's ,palace1 whose three        
divisions are in a bold geometrical     
progression3 or1 in towers1 to get an   
alternate proportion between the body1  
the belfry1 and the crown1 as in the    
campanile of ,st4 ,mark's4 ,but1 at all 
events1 get rid of equality2 leave that 
to children and their card houses3 the  
laws of nature and the reason of man are
 alike against it1 in arts1 as in       
politics4 ,there is but one thoroughly  
ugly tower in ,italy that ,i know of1   
and that is so because it is divided    
into vertical equal parts3 the tower of 
,pisa4#ab  ,,xxix4 ,one more principle  
of ,proportion ,i have to name1 equally 
simple1 equally neglected4 ,proportion  
is between three terms at least4 ,hence1
 as the pinnacles are not enough without
 the spire1 so neither the spire without
 the pinnacles4 ,all men feel this and  
usually express their feeling by saying 

that the pinnacles conceal the junction 
of the spire and tower4 ,this is one    
reason2 but a more influential one is1  
that the pinnacles furnish the third    
term to the spire and tower4 ,so that it
 is not enough1 in order to secure      
proportion1 to divide a building        
unequally2 it must be divided into at   
least three parts2 it may be into more  
7and in details with advantage71 but on 
a large scale ,i find three is about the
 best number of parts in elevation1 and 
five in horizontal extent1 with freedom 
of increase to five in the one case and 
seven in the other2 but not to more     
without confusion 7in architecture1 that
 is to say2 for in organic structure the
 numbers cannot be limited74 ,i purpose1
 in the course of works which are in    
preparation1 to give copious            
illustrations of this subject1 but ,i   
will take at present only one instance  
of vertical proportion1 from the flower 
stem of the common water plantain1      
,alisma ,plantago4 ,fig4 #e1 ,plate     

,,xii4 is a reduced profile of one side 
of a plant gathered at random2 it is    
seen to have five masts1 of which1      
however1 the uppermost is a mere shoot1 
and we can consider only their relations
 up to the fourth4 ,their lengths are   
measured on the line ,a ,b1 which is the
 actual length of the lowest mass a b1  
,a ,cb c1 ,a ,dc d1 and ,a ,ed e4 ,if   
the reader will take the trouble to     
measure these lengths and compare them1 
he will find that1 within half a line1  
the uppermost ,a ,e#e_/g of ,a ,d1 ,a   
,d#f_/h of ,a ,c1 and ,a ,c#g_/i of ,a  
,b2 a most subtle diminishing           
proportion4 ,from each of the joints    
spring three major and three minor      
branches1 each between each2 but the    
major branches1 at any joint1 are placed
 over the minor branches at the joint   
below1 by the curious arrangement of the
 joint itself--the stem is bluntly      
triangular2 fig4 #f shows the section of
 any joint4 ,the outer darkened triangle
 is the section of the lower stem2 the  

inner1 left light1 of the upper stem2   
and the three main branches spring from 
the ledges left by the recession4 ,thus 
the stems diminish in diameter just as  
they diminish in height4 ,the main      
branches 7falsely placed in the profile 
over each other to show their relations7
 have respectively seven1 six1 five1    
four1 and three arm-bones1 like the     
masts of the stem2 these divisions being
 proportioned in the same subtle manner4
 ,from the joints of these1 it seems to 
be the plan of the plant that three     
major and three minor branches should   
again spring1 bearing the flowers3 but1 
in these infinitely complicated members1
 vegetative nature admits much variety2 
in the plant from which these measures  
were taken the full complement appeared 
only at one of the secondary joints4    
,the leaf of this plant has five ribs on
 each side1 as its flower generally five
 masts1 arranged with the most exquisite
 grace of curve2 but of lateral         
proportion ,i shall rather take         

illustrations from architecture3 the    
reader will find several in the accounts
 of the ,duomo at ,pisa and ,st4 ,mark's
 at ,venice1 in ,chap4 ,v4 ,sec4,sec4   
,,xiv4-,,xvi4 ,i give these arrangements
 merely as illustrations1 not as        
precedents3 all beautiful proportions   
are unique1 they are not general        
formulae4  ,,xxx4 ,the other condition  
of architectural treatment which we     
proposed to notice was the abstraction  
of imitated form4 ,but there is a       
peculiar difficulty in touching within  
these narrow limits on such a subject as
 this1 because the abstraction of which 
we find examples in existing art1 is    
partly involuntary2 and it is a matter  
of much nicety to determine where it    
begins to be purposed4 ,in the progress 
of national as well as of individual    
mind1 the first attempts at imitation   
are always abstract and incomplete4     
,greater completion marks the progress  
of art1 absolute completion usually its 
decline2 whence absolute completion of  

imitative form is often supposed to be  
in itself wrong4 ,but it is not wrong   
always1 only dangerous4 ,let us endeavor
 briefly to ascertain wherein its danger
 consists1 and wherein its dignity4     
,,xxxi4 ,i have said that all art is    
abstract in its beginnings2 that is to  
say1 it expresses only a small number of
 the qualities of the thing represented4
 ,curved and complex lines are          
represented by straight and simple ones2
 interior markings of forms are few1 and
 much is symbolical and conventional4   
,there is a resemblance between the work
 of a great nation1 in this phase1 and  
the work of childhood and ignorance1    
which1 in the mind of a careless        
observer1 might attach something like   
ridicule to it4 ,the form of a tree on  
the ,ninevite sculptures is much like   
that which1 come twenty years ago1 was  
familiar upon samplers2 and the types of
 the face and figure in early ,italian  
art are susceptible of easy caricature4 
,on the signs which separate the infancy

 of magnificent manhood from every      
other1 ,i do not pause to insist 7they  
consist entirely in the choice of the   
symbol and of the features abstracted72 
but ,i pass to the next stage of art1 a 
condition of strength in which the      
abstraction which was begun in          
incapability is continued in free will4 
,this is the case1 however1 in pure     
sculpture and painting1 as well as in   
architecture2 and we have nothing to do 
but with that greater severity of manner
 which fits either to be associated with
 the more realist art4 ,i believe it    
properly consists only in a due         
expression of their subordination1 an   
expression varying according to their   
place and office4 ,the question is first
 to be clearly determined whether the   
architecture is a frame for the         
sculpture1 or the sculpture an ornament 
of the architecture4 ,if the latter1    
then the first office of that sculpture 
is not to represent the things it       
imitates1 but to gather out of them     

those arrangements of form which shall  
be pleasing to the eye in their intended
 places4 ,so soon as agreeable lines and
 points of shade have been added to the 
mouldings which were meagre1 or to the  
lights which were unrelieved1 the       
architectural work of the imitation is  
accomplished2 and how far it shall be   
wrought towards completeness or not1    
will depend upon its place1 and upon    
other various circumstances4 ,if1 in its
 particular use or position1 it is      
symmetrically arranged1 there is1 of    
course1 an instant indication of        
architectural subjection4 ,but symmetry 
is not abstraction4 ,leaves may be      
carved in the most regular order1 and   
yet be meanly imitative2 or1 on the     
other hand1 they may be thrown wild and 
loose1 and yet be highly architectural  
in their separate treatment4 ,nothing   
can be less symmetrical than the group  
of leaves which join the two columns in 
,plate ,,xiii42 yet1 since nothing of   
the leaf character is given but what is 

necessary for the bare suggestion of its
 image and the attainment of the lines  
desired1 their treatment is highly      
abstract4 ,it shows that the workman    
only wanted so much of the leaf as he   
supposed good for his architecture1 and 
would allow no more2 and how much is to 
be supposed good1 depends1 as ,i have   
said1 much more on place and            
circumstance than on general laws4 ,i   
know that this is not usually thought1  
and that many good architects would     
insist on abstraction in all cases3 the 
question is so wide and so difficult    
that ,i express my opinion upon it most 
diffidently2 but my own feeling is1 that
 a purely abstract manner1 like that of 
our earliest ,english work1 does not    
afford room for the perfection of       
beautiful form1 and that its severity is
 wearisome after the eye has been long  
accustomed to it4 ,i have not done      
justice to the ,salisbury dog-tooth     
moulding1 of which the effect is        
sketched in fig4 #e1 ,plate ,x41 but ,i 

have done more justice to it            
nevertheless than to the beautiful      
,french one above it2 and ,i do not     
think that any candid reader would deny 
that1 piquant and spirited as is that   
from ,salisbury1 the ,rouen moulding is1
 in every respect1 nobler4 ,it will be  
observed that its symmetry is more      
complicated1 the leafage being divided  
into double groups of two lobes each1   
each lobe of different structure4 ,with 
exquisite feeling1 one of these double  
groups is alternately omitted on the    
other side of the moulding 7not seen in 
the ,plate1 but occupying the cavetto of
 the section71 thus giving a playful    
lightness to the whole2 and if the      
reader will allow for a beauty in the   
flow of the curved outlines 7especially 
on the angle71 of which he cannot in the
 least judge from my rude drawing1 he   
will not1 ,i think1 expect easily to    
find a nobler instance of decoration    
adapted to the severest mouldings4  ,now
 it will be observed1 that there is in  

its treatment a high degree of          
abstraction1 though not so conventional 
as that of ,salisbury3 that is to say1  
the leaves have little more than their  
flow and outline represented2 they are  
hardly undercut1 but their edges are    
connected by a gentle and most studied  
curve with the stone behind2 they have  
no serrations1 no veinings1 no rib or   
stalk on the angle1 only an incision    
gracefully made towards their           
extremities1 indicative of the central  
rib and depression4 ,the whole style of 
the abstraction shows that the architect
 could1 if he had chosen1 have carried  
the imitation much farther1 but stayed  
at this point of his own free will2 and 
what he has done is also so perfect in  
its kind1 that ,i feel disposed to      
accept his authority without question1  
so far as ,i can gather it from his     
works1 on the whole subject of          
abstraction4  ,,xxxii4 ,happily his     
opinion is frankly expressed4 ,this     
moulding is on the lateral buttress1 and

 on a level with the top of the north   
gate2 it cannot therefore be closely    
seen except from the wooden stairs of   
the belfry2 it is not intended to be so 
seen1 but calculated for a distance of1 
at least1 forty to fifty feet from the  
eye4 ,in the vault of the gate itself1  
half as near again1 there are three rows
 of mouldings1 as ,i think1 by the same 
designer1 at all events part of the same
 plan4 ,one of them is given in ,plate  
,i4 fig4 #b a4 ,it will be seen that the
 abstraction is here infinitely less2   
the ivy leaves have stalks and          
associated fruit1 and a rib for each    
lobe1 and are so far undercut as to     
detach their forms from the stone2 while
 in the vine-leaf moulding above1 of the
 same period1 from the south gate1      
serration appears added to other purely 
imitative characters4 ,finally1 in the  
animals which form the ornaments of the 
portion of the gate which is close to   
the eye1 abstraction nearly vanishes    
into perfect sculpture4  ,,xxxiii4      

,nearness to the eye1 however1 is not   
the only circumstance which influences  
architectural abstraction4 ,these very  
animals are not merely better cut       
because close to the eye2 they are put  
close to the eye that they may1 without 
indiscretion1 be better cut1 on the     
noble principle1 first ,i think1 clearly
 enunciated by ,mr4 ,eastlake1 that the 
closest imitation shall be of the       
noblest object4 ,farther1 since the     
wildness and manner of growth of        
vegetation render a bona fide imitation 
of it impossible in sculpture--since its
 members must be reduced in number1     
ordered in direction1 and cut away from 
their roots1 even under the most        
earnestly imitative treatment1--it      
becomes a point1 as ,i think1 of good   
judgment1 to proportion the completeness
 of execution of parts to the formality 
of the whole2 and since five or six     
leaves must stand for a tree1 to let    
also five or six touches stand for a    
leaf4 ,but since the animal generally   

admits of perfect outline--since its    
form is detached1 and may be fully      
represented1 its sculpture may be more  
complete and faithful in all its parts4 
,and this principle will be actually    
found4 ,i believe1 to guide the old     
workmen4 ,if the animal form be in a    
gargoyle1 incomplete1 and coining out of
 a block of stone1 or if a head only1 as
 for a boss or other such partial use1  
its sculpture will be highly abstract4  
,but if it be an entire animal1 as a    
lizard1 or a bird1 or a squirrel1       
peeping among leafage1 its sculpture    
will be much farther carried1 and ,i    
think1 if small1 near the eye1 and      
worked in a fine material1 may rightly  
be carried to the utmost possible       
completion4 ,surely we cannot wish a    
less finish bestowed on those which     
animate the mouldings of the south door 
of the cathedral of ,florence2 nor      
desire that the birds in the capitals of
 the ,doge's palace should be stripped  
of a single plume4  ,,xxxiv4 ,under     

these limitations1 then1 ,i think that  
perfect sculpture may be made a part of 
the severest architecture2 but this     
perfection was said in the outset to be 
dangerous4 ,it is so in the highest     
degree2 for the moment the architect    
allows himself to dwell on the imitated 
portions1 there is a chance of his      
losing sight of the duty of his         
ornament1 of its business as a part of  
the composition1 and sacrificing its    
points of shade and effect to the       
delight of delicate carving4 ,and then  
he is lost4 ,his architecture has become
 a mere framework for the setting of    
delicate sculpture1 which had better be 
all taken down and put into cabinets4   
,it is well1 therefore1 that the young  
architect should be taught to think of  
imitative ornament as of the extreme of 
grace in language2 not to be regarded at
 first1 not to be obtained at the cost  
of purpose1 meaning1 force1 or          
conciseness1 yet1 indeed1 a             
perfection--the least of all            

perfections1 and yet the crowning one of
 all--one which by itself1 and regarded 
in itself1 is an architectural          
coxcombry1 but is yet the sign of the   
most highly-trained mind and power when 
it is associated with others4 ,it is a  
safe manner1 as ,i think1 to design all 
things at first in severe abstraction1  
and to be prepared1 if need were1 to    
carry them out in that form2 then to    
mark the parts where high finish would  
be admissible1 to complete these always 
with stern reference to their general   
effect1 and then connect them by a      
graduated scale of abstraction with the 
rest4 ,and there is one safeguard       
against danger in this process on which 
,i would finally insist4 ,never imitate 
anything but natural forms1 and those   
the noblest1 in the completed parts4    
,the degradation of the cinque cento    
manner of decoration was not owing to   
its naturalism1 to its faithfulness of  
imitation1 but to its imitation of ugly1
 i4e4 unnatural things4 ,so long as it  

restrained itself to sculpture of       
animals and flowers1 it remained noble4 
,the balcony1 on the opposite page1 from
 a house in the ,campo ,st4 ,benedetto  
at ,venice1 shows one of the earliest   
occurrences of the cinque cento         
arabesque1 and a fragment of the pattern
 is given in ,plate ,,xii4 fig4 #h4 ,it 
is but the arresting upon the stone work
 of a stem or two of the living flowers1
 which are rarely wanting in the window 
above 7and which1 by the by1 the ,french
 and ,italian peasantry often trellis   
with exquisite taste about their        
casements74 ,this arabesque1 relieved as
 it is in darkness from the white stone 
by the stain of time1 is surely both    
beautiful and pure2 and as long as the  
renaissance ornament remained in such   
forms it may be beheld with undeserved  
admiration4 ,but the moment that        
unnatural objects were associated with  
these1 and armor1 and musical           
instruments1 and wild meaningless       
scrolls and curled shields1 and other   

such fancies1 became principal in its   
subjects1 its doom was sealed1 and with 
it that of the architecture of the      
world4    ,illustration3 ,,plate        
,,xi4--7,page #aca--,vol4 ,v47          
,,balcony ,,in ,,the ,,campo1 ,,st4     
,,benedetto1 ,,venice4  ,,xxxv4 ,,iii4  
,our final inquiry was to be into the   
use of color as associated with         
architectural ornament4  ,i do not feel 
able to speak with any confidence       
respecting the touching of sculpture    
with color4 ,i would only note one      
point1 that sculpture is the            
representation of an idea1 while        
architecture is itself a real thing4    
,the idea may1 as ,i think1 be left     
colorless1 and colored by the beholder's
 mind3 but a reality ought to have      
reality in all its attributes3 its color
 should be as fixed as its form4 ,i     
cannot1 therefore1 consider architecture
 as in any wise perfect without color4  
,farther1 as ,i have above noticed1 ,i  
think the colors of architecture should 

be those of natural stones2 partly      
because more durable1 but also because  
more perfect and graceful4 ,for to      
conquer the harshness and deadness of   
tones laid upon stone or on gesso1 needs
 the management and discretion of a true
 painter2 and on this co-operation we   
must not calculate in laying down rules 
for general practice4 ,if ,tintoret or  
,giorgione are at hand1 and ask us for a
 wall to paint1 we will alter our whole 
design for their sake1 and become their 
servants2 but we must1 as architects1   
expect the aid of the common workman    
only2 and the laying of color by a      
mechanical hand1 and its toning under a 
vulgar eye1 are far more offensive than 
rudeness in cutting the stone4 ,the     
latter is imperfection only2 the former 
deadness or discordance4 ,at the best1  
such color is so inferior to the lovely 
and mellow hues of the natural stone1   
that it is wise to sacrifice some of the
 intricacy of design1 if by so doing we 
may employ the nobler material4 ,and if1

 as we looked to ,nature for instruction
 respecting form1 we look to her also to
 learn the management of color1 we      
shall1 perhaps1 find that this sacrifice
 of intricacy is for other causes       
expedient4  ,,xxxvi4 ,first1 then1 ,i   
think that in making this reference we  
are to consider our building as a kind  
of organized creature2 in coloring which
 we must look to the single and         
separately organized creatures of       
,nature1 not to her landscape           
combinations4 ,our building1 if it is   
well composed1 is one thing1 and is to  
be colored as ,nature would color one   
thing--a shell1 a flower1 or an animal2 
not as she colors groups of things4     
,and the first broad conclusion we shall
 deduce from observance of natural color
 in such cases will be1 that it never   
follows form1 but is arranged on an     
entirely separate system4 ,what         
mysterious connection there may be      
between the shape of the spots on an    
animal's skin and its anatomical system1

 ,i do not know1 nor even if such a     
connection has in any wise been traced3 
but to the eye the systems are entirely 
separate1 and in many cases that of     
color is accidentally variable4 ,the    
stripes of a zebra do not follow the    
lines of its body or limbs1 still less  
the spots of a leopard4 ,in the plumage 
of birds1 each feather bears a part of  
the pattern which is arbitrarily carried
 over the body1 having indeed certain   
graceful harmonies with the form1       
diminishing or enlarging in directions  
which sometimes follow1 but also not    
unfrequently oppose1 the directions of  
its muscular lines4 ,whatever harmonies 
there may be1 are distinctly like those 
of two separate musical parts1          
coinciding here and there only--never   
discordant1 but essentially different ,i
 hold this1 then1 for the first great   
principle of architectural color4 ,let  
it be visibly independent of form4      
,never paint a column with vertical     
lines1 but always cross it4#ac ,never   

give separate mouldings separate colors 
7,i know this is heresy1 but ,i never   
shrink from any conclusions1 however    
contrary to human authority1 to which ,i
 am led by observance of natural        
principles72 and in sculptured ornaments
 ,i do not paint the leaves or figures  
7,i cannot help the ,elgin frieze7 of   
one color and their ground of another1  
but vary both the ground and the figures
 with the same harmony4 ,notice how     
,nature does it in a variegated flower2 
not one leaf red and another white1 but 
a point of red and a zone of white1 or  
whatever it may be1 to each4 ,in certain
 places you may run your two systems    
closer1 and here and there let them be  
parallel for a note or two1 but see that
 the colors and the forms coincide only 
as two orders of mouldings do2 the same 
for an instant1 but each holding its own
 course4 ,so single members may         
sometimes have single colors3 as a      
bird's head is sometimes of one color   
and its shoulders another1 you may make 

your capital of one color and your shaft
 another2 but in general the best place 
for color is on broad surfaces1 not on  
the points of interest in form4 ,an     
animal is mottled on its breast and     
back1 rarely on its paws or about its   
eyes2 so put your variegation boldly on 
the flat wall and broad shaft1 but be   
shy of it in the capital and moulding2  
in all cases it is a safe rule to       
simplify color when form is rich1 and   
vice versa2 and ,i think it would be    
well in general to carve all capitals   
and graceful ornaments in white marble1 
and so leave them4  ,,xxxvii4           
,independence then being first secured1 
what kind of limiting outlines shall we 
adopt for the system of color itself8   
,i am quite sure that any person        
familiar with natural objects will never
 be surprised at any appearance of care 
or finish in them4 ,that is the         
condition of the universe4 ,but there is
 cause both for surprise and inquiry    
whenever we see anything like           

carelessness or incompletion3 that is   
not a common condition2 it must be one  
appointed for some singular purpose4 ,i 
believe that such surprise will be      
forcibly felt by any one who1 after     
studying carefully the lines of some    
variegated organic form1 will set       
himself to copy with similar diligence  
those of its colors4 ,the boundaries of 
the forms he will assuredly1 whatever   
the object1 have found drawn with a     
delicacy and precision which no human   
hand can follow4 ,those of its colors he
 will find in many cases1 though        
governed always by a certain rude       
symmetry1 yet irregular1 blotched1      
imperfect1 liable to all kinds of       
accidents and awkwardnesses4 ,look at   
the tracery of the lines on a camp      
shell1 and see how oddly and awkwardly  
its tents are pitched4 ,it is not indeed
 always so3 there is occasionally1 as in
 the eye of the peacock's plume1 an     
apparent precision1 but still a         
precision far inferior to that of the   

drawing of the filaments which bear that
 lovely stain2 and in the plurality of  
cases a degree of looseness and         
variation1 and1 still more singularly1  
of harshness and violence in            
arrangement1 is admitted in color which 
would be monstrous in form4 ,observe the
 difference in the precision of a fish's
 scales and of the spots on them4       
,,xxxviii4 ,now1 why it should be that  
color is best seen under these          
circumstances ,i will not here endeavor 
to determine2 nor whether the lesson we 
are to learn from it be that it is      
,god's will that all manner of delights 
should never be combined in one thing4  
,but the fact is certain1 that color is 
always by ,him arranged in these simple 
or rude forms1 and as certain that1     
therefore1 it must be best seen in them1
 and that we shall never mend by        
refining its arrangements4 ,experience  
teaches us the same thing4 ,infinite    
nonsense has been written about the     
union of perfect color with perfect     

form4 ,they never will1 never can be    
united4 ,color1 to be perfect1 must have
 a soft outline or a simple one3 it     
cannot have a refined one2 and you will 
never produce a good painted window with
 good figure-drawing in it4 ,you will   
lose perfection of color as you give    
perfection of line4 ,try to put in order
 and form the colors of a piece of opal4
  ,,xxxix4 ,i conclude1 then1 that all  
arrangements of color1 for its own sake1
 in graceful forms1 are barbarous2 and  
that1 to paint a color pattern with the 
lovely lines of a ,greek leaf moulding1 
is an utterly savage procedure4 ,i      
cannot find anything in natural color   
like this3 it is not in the bond4 ,i    
find it in all natural form--never in   
natural color4 ,if1 then1 our           
architectural color is to be beautiful  
as its form was1 by being imitative1 we 
are limited to these conditions--to     
simple masses of it1 to zones1 as in the
 rainbow and the zebra2 cloudings and   
flamings1 as in marble shells and       

plumage1 or spots of various shapes and 
dimensions4 ,all these conditions are   
susceptible of various degrees of       
sharpness and delicacy1 and of          
complication in arrangement4 ,the zone  
may become a delicate line1 and arrange 
itself in chequers and zig-zags4 ,the   
flaming may be more or less defined1 as 
on a tulip leaf1 and may at last be     
represented by a triangle of color1 and 
arrange itself in stars or other shapes2
 the spot may be also graduated into a  
stain1 or defined into a square or      
circle4 ,the most exquisite harmonies   
may be composed of these simple         
elements3 some soft and full of flushed 
and melting spaces of color2 others     
piquant and sparkling1 or deep and rich1
 formed of close groups of the fiery    
fragments3 perfect and lovely proportion
 may be exhibited in the relation of    
their quantities1 infinite invention in 
their disposition3 but1 in all cases1   
their shape will be effective only as it
 determines their quantity1 and         

regulates their operation on each other2
 points or edges of one being introduced
 between breadths of others1 and so on4 
,triangular and barred forms are        
therefore convenient1 or others the     
simplest possible2 leaving the pleasure 
of the spectator to be taken in the     
color1 and in that only4 ,curved        
outlines1 especially if refined1 deaden 
the color1 and confuse the mind4 ,even  
in figure painting the greatest         
colorists have either melted their      
outline away1 as often ,correggio and   
,rubens2 or purposely made their masses 
of ungainly shape1 as ,titian2 or placed
 their brightest hues in costume1 where 
they could get quaint patterns1 as      
,veronese1 and especially ,angelico1    
with whom1 however1 the absolute virtue 
of color is secondary to grace of line4 
,hence1 he never uses the blended hues  
of ,correggio1 like those on the wing of
 the little ,cupid1 in the ,venus and   
,mercury1 but always the severest       
type--the peacock plume4 ,any of these  

men would have looked with infinite     
disgust upon the leafage and scrollwork 
which form the ground of color in our   
modern painted windows1 and yet all whom
 ,i have named were much infected with  
the love of renaissance designs4 ,we    
must also allow for the freedom of the  
painter's subject1 and looseness of his 
associated lines2 a pattern being severe
 in a picture1 which is over luxurious  
upon a building4 ,i believe1 therefore1 
that it is impossible to be over quaint 
or angular in architectural coloring2   
and thus many dispositions which ,i have
 had occasion to reprobate in form1 are1
 in color1 the best that can be         
invented4 ,i have always1 for instance1 
spoken with contempt of the ,tudor      
style1 for this reason1 that1 having    
surrendered all pretence to spaciousness
 and breadth1--having divided its       
surfaces by an infinite number of lines1
 it yet sacrifices the only characters  
which can make lines beautiful2         
sacrifices all the variety and grace    

which long atoned for the caprice of the
 ,flamboyant1 and adopts1 for its       
leading feature1 an entanglement of     
cross bars and verticals1 showing about 
as much invention or skill of design as 
the reticulation of the bricklayer's    
sieve4 ,yet this very reticulation would
 in color be highly beautiful2 and all  
the heraldry1 and other features which1 
in form1 are monstrous1 may be          
delightful as themes of color 7so long  
as there are no fluttering or           
over-twisted lines in them72 and this   
observe1 because1 when colored1 they    
take the place of a mere pattern1 and   
the resemblance to nature1 which could  
not be found in their sculptured forms1 
is found in their piquant variegation of
 other surfaces4 ,there is a beautiful  
and bright bit of wall painting behind  
the ,duomo of ,verona1 composed of coats
 of arms1 whose bearings are balls of   
gold set in bars of green 7altered      
blue87 and white1 with cardinal's hats  
in alternate squares4 ,this is of       

course1 however1 fit only for domestic  
work4 ,the front of the ,doge's palace  
at ,venice is the purest and most chaste
 model that ,i can name 7but one7 of the
 fit application of color to public     
buildings4 ,the sculpture and mouldings 
are all white2 but the wall surface is  
chequered with marble blocks of pale    
rose1 the chequers being in no wise     
harmonized1 or fitted to the forms of   
the windows2 but looking as if the      
surface had been completed first1 and   
the windows cut out of it4 ,in ,plate   
,,xii4 fig4 #b the reader will see two  
of the patterns used in green and white1
 on the columns of ,san ,michele of     
,lucca1 every column having a different 
design4 ,both are beautiful1 but the    
upper one certainly the best4 ,yet in   
sculpture its lines would have been     
perfectly barbarous1 and those even of  
the lower not enough refined4  ,,xl4    
,restraining ourselves1 therefore1 to   
the use of such simple patterns1 so far 
forth as our color is subordinate either

 to architectural structure1 or         
sculptural form1 we have yet one more   
manner of ornamentation to add to our   
general means of effect1 monochrome     
design1 the intermediate condition      
between coloring and carving4 ,the      
relations of the entire system of       
architectural decoration may then be    
thus expressed4       #a4 ,organic form 
dominant4 ,true1 independent sculpture1 
and      alto-relievo2 rich capitals1   
and mouldings2 to be elaborate in       
completion of form1 not abstract1 and   
either to be left in pure      white    
marble1 or most cautiously touched with 
color in points and      borders only1  
in a system not concurrent with their   
forms4       #b4 ,organic form          
sub-dominant4 ,basso-relievo or         
intaglio4 ,to be more      abstract in  
proportion to the reduction of depth2 to
 be also more      rigid and simple in  
contour2 to be touched with color more  
boldly      and in an increased degree1 
exactly in proportion to the reduced    

depth and fulness of form1 but still in 
a system non-concurrent      with their 
forms4       #c4 ,organic form          
abstracted to outline4 ,monochrome      
design1 still      farther reduced to   
simplicity of contour1 and therefore    
admitting      for the first time the   
color to be concurrent with its         
outlines2      that is to say1 as its   
name imports1 the entire figure to be   
detached in one color from a ground of  
another4       #d4 ,organic forms       
entirely lost4 ,geometrical patterns or 
variable      cloudings in the most     
vivid color4  ,on the opposite side of  
this scale1 ascending from the color    
pattern1 ,i would place the various     
forms of painting which may be          
associated with architecture3 primarily1
 and as most fit for such purpose1 the  
mosaic1 highly abstract in treatment1   
and introducing brilliant color in      
masses2 the ,madonna of ,torcello being1
 as ,i think1 the noblest type of the   
manner1 and the ,baptistery of ,parma   

the richest3 next1 the purely decorative
 fresco1 like that of the ,arena        
,chapel2 finally1 the fresco becoming   
principal1 as in the ,vatican and       
,sistine4 ,but ,i cannot1 with any      
safety1 follow the principles of        
abstraction in this pictorial ornament2 
since the noblest examples of it appear 
to me to owe their architectural        
applicability to their archaic manner2  
and ,i think that the abstraction and   
admirable simplicity which render them  
fit media of the most splendid coloring1
 cannot be recovered by a voluntary     
condescension4 ,the ,byzantines         
themselves would not1 ,i think1 if they 
could have drawn the figure better1 have
 used it for a color decoration2 and    
that use1 as peculiar to a condition of 
childhood1 however noble and full of    
promise1 cannot be included among those 
modes of adornment which are now        
legitimate or even possible4 ,there is a
 difficulty in the management of the    
painted window for the same reason1     

which has not yet been met1 and we must 
conquer that first1 before we can       
venture to consider the wall as a       
painted window on a large scale4        
,pictorial subject1 without such        
abstraction1 becomes necessarily        
principal1 or1 at all events1 ceases to 
be the architect's concern2 its plan    
must be left to the painter after the   
completion of the building1 as in the   
works of ,veronese and ,giorgione on the
 palaces of ,venice4  ,,xli4 ,pure      
architectural decoration1 then1 may be  
considered as limited to the four kinds 
above specified2 of which each glides   
almost imperceptibly into the other4    
,thus1 the ,elgin frieze is a monochrome
 in a state of transition to sculpture1 
retaining1 as ,i think1 the half-cast   
skin too long4 ,of pure monochrome1 ,i  
have given an example in ,plate ,,vi41  
from the noble front of ,st4 ,michele of
 ,lucca4 ,it contains forty such arches1
 all covered with equally elaborate     
ornaments1 entirely drawn by cutting out

 their ground to about the depth of an  
inch in the flat white marble1 and      
filling the spaces with pieces of green 
serpentine2 a most elaborate mode of    
sculpture1 requiring excessive care and 
precision in the fitting of the edges1  
and of course double work1 the same line
 needing to be cut both in the marble   
and serpentine4 ,the excessive          
simplicity of the forms will be at once 
perceived2 the eyes of the figures of   
animals1 for instance1 being indicated  
only by a round dot1 formed by a little 
inlet circle of serpentine1 about half  
an inch over3 but1 though simple1 they  
admit often much grace of curvature1 as 
in the neck of the bird seen above the  
right hand pillar4#ad ,the pieces of    
serpentine have fallen out in many      
places1 giving the black shadows1 as    
seen under the horseman's arm and bird's
 neck1 and in the semi-circular line    
round the arch1 once filled with some   
pattern4 ,it would have illustrated my  
point better to have restored the lost  

portions1 but ,i always draw a thing    
exactly as it is1 hating restoration of 
any kind2 and ,i would especially direct
 the reader's attention to the          
completion of the forms in the          
sculptured ornament of the marble       
cornices1 as opposed to the abstraction 
of the monochrome figures1 of the ball  
and cross patterns between the arches1  
and of the triangular ornament round the
 arch on the left4  ,,xlii4 ,i have an  
intense love for these monochrome       
figures1 owing to their wonderful life  
and spirit in all the works on which ,i 
found them2 nevertheless1 ,i believe    
that the excessive degree of abstraction
 which they imply necessitates our      
placing them in the rank of a           
progressive or imperfect art1 and that a
 perfect building should rather be      
composed of the highest sculpture       
7organic form dominant and              
sub-dominant71 associated with pattern  
colors on the flat or broad surfaces4   
,and we find1 in fact1 that the         

cathedral of ,pisa1 which is a higher   
type than that of ,lucca1 exactly       
follows this condition1 the color being 
put in geometrical patterns on its      
surfaces1 and animal-forms and lovely   
leafage used in the sculptured cornices 
and pillars4 ,and ,i think that the     
grace of the carved forms is best seen  
when it is thus boldly opposed to severe
 traceries of color1 while the color    
itself is1 as we have seen1 always most 
piquant when it is put into sharp       
angular arrangements4 ,thus the         
sculpture is approved and set off by the
 color1 and the color seen to the best  
advantage in its opposition both to the 
whiteness and the grace of the carved   
marble4  ,,xliii4 ,in the course of this
 and the preceding chapters1 ,i have now
 separately enumerated most of the      
conditions of ,power and ,beauty1 which 
in the outset ,i stated to be the       
grounds of the deepest impressions with 
which architecture could affect the     
human mind2 but ,i would ask permission 

to recapitulate them in order to see if 
there be any building which ,i may offer
 as an example of the unison1 in such   
manner as is possible1 of them all4     
,glancing back1 then1 to the beginning  
of the third chapter1 and introducing in
 their place the conditions incidentally
 determined in the two previous         
sections1 we shall have the following   
list of noble characters3  ,considerable
 size1 exhibited by simple terminal     
lines 7,chap4 ,,iii4 ,sec4 #f74         
,projection towards the top 7,sec4 #g74 
,breadth of flat surface 7,sec4 #h74    
,square compartments of that surface    
7,sec4 #i74 ,varied and visible masonry 
7,sec4 #aa74 ,vigorous depth of shadow  
7,sec4 #ac71 exhibited especially by    
pierced traceries 7,sec4 #ah74 ,varied  
proportion in ascent 7,chap4 ,,iv4 ,sec4
 #bh74 ,lateral symmetry 7,sec4 #bh74   
,sculpture most delicate at the base    
7,chap4 ,i4 ,sec4 #ab74 ,enriched       
quantity of ornament at the top 7,sec4  
#ac74 ,sculpture abstract in inferior   

ornaments and mouldings 7,chap4 ,,iv4   
,sec4 #ca71 complete in animal forms    
7,sec4 #cc74 ,both to be executed in    
white marble 7,sec4 #dj74 ,vivid color  
introduced in flat geometrical patterns 
7,sec4 #ci71 and obtained by the use of 
naturally colored stone 7,sec4 #ce74    
,these characteristics occur more or    
less in different buildings1 some in one
 and some in another4 ,but all together1
 and all in their highest possible      
relative degrees1 they exist1 as far as 
,i know1 only in one building in the    
world1 the ,campanile of ,giotto at     
,florence4 ,the drawing of the tracery  
of its upper story1 which heads this    
chapter1 rude as it is1 will            
nevertheless give the reader some better
 conception of that tower's magnificence
 than the thin outlines in which it is  
usually portrayed4 ,in its first appeal 
to the stranger's eye there is something
 unpleasing2 a mingling1 as it seems to 
him1 of over severity with over         
minuteness4 ,but let him give it time1  

as he should to all other consummate    
art4 ,i remember well how1 when a boy1  
,i used to despise that ,campanile1 and 
think it meanly smooth and finished4    
,but ,i have since lived beside it many 
a day1 and looked out upon it from my   
windows by sunlight and moonlight1 and  
,i shall not soon forget how profound   
and gloomy appeared to me the savageness
 of the ,northern ,gothic1 when ,i      
afterwards stood1 for the first time1   
beneath the front of ,salisbury4 ,the   
contrast is indeed strange1 if it could 
be quickly felt1 between the rising of  
those grey walls out of their quiet     
swarded space1 like dark and barren     
rocks out of a green lake1 with their   
rude1 mouldering1 rough-grained shafts1 
and triple lights1 without tracery or   
other ornament than the martins' nests  
in the height of them1 and that bright1 
smooth1 sunny surface of glowing jasper1
 those spiral shafts and fairy          
traceries1 so white1 so faint1 so       
crystalline1 that their slight shapes   

are hardly traced in darkness on the    
pallor of the ,eastern sky1 that serene 
height of mountain alabaster1 colored   
like a morning cloud1 and chased like a 
sea shell4 ,and if this be1 as ,i       
believe it1 the model and mirror of     
perfect architecture1 is there not      
something to be learned by looking back 
to the early life of him who raised it8 
,i said that the ,power of human mind   
had its growth in the ,wilderness2 much 
more must the love and the conception of
 that beauty1 whose every line and hue  
we have seen to be1 at the best1 a faded
 image of ,god's daily work1 and an     
arrested ray of some star of creation1  
be given chiefly in the places which ,he
 has gladdened by planting there the fir
 tree and the pine4 ,not within the     
walls of ,florence1 but among the far   
away fields of her lilies1 was the child
 trained who was to raise that headstone
 of ,beauty above the towers of watch   
and war4 ,remember all that he became2  
count the sacred thoughts with which he 

filled the heart of ,italy2 ask those   
who followed him what they learned at   
his feet2 and when you have numbered his
 labors1 and received their testimony1  
if it seem to you that ,god had verily  
poured out upon this ,his servant no    
common nor restrained portion of ,his   
,spirit1 and that he was indeed a king  
among the children of men1 remember also
 that the legend upon his crown was that
 of ,david's3--,i took thee from the    
sheepcote1 and from following the sheep4
     ,,chapter ,v4  ,,the ,,lamp ,,of   
,,life4   ,i4 ,among the countless      
analogies by which the nature and       
relations of the human soul are         
illustrated in the material creation1   
none are more striking than the         
impressions inseparably connected with  
the active and dormant states of matter4
 ,i have elsewhere endeavored to show1  
that no inconsiderable part of the      
essential characters of ,beauty depended
 on the expression of vital energy in   
organic things1 or on the subjection to 

such energy1 of things naturally passive
 and powerless4 ,i need not here repeat1
 of what was then advanced1 more than   
the statement which ,i believe will meet
 with general acceptance1 that things in
 other respects alike1 as in their      
substance1 or uses1 or outward forms1   
are noble or ignoble in proportion to   
the fulness of the life which either    
they themselves enjoy1 or of whose      
action they bear the evidence1 as sea   
sands are made beautiful by their       
bearing the seal of the motion of the   
waters4 ,and this is especially true of 
all objects which bear upon them the    
impress of the highest order of creative
 life1 that is to say1 of the mind of   
man3 they become noble or ignoble in    
proportion to the amount of the energy  
of that mind which has visibly been     
employed upon them4 ,but most peculiarly
 and imperatively does the rule hold    
with respect to the creations of        
,architecture1 which being properly     
capable of no other life than this1 and 

being not essentially composed of things
 pleasant in themselves1--as music of   
sweet sounds1 or painting of fair       
colors1 but of inert substance1--depend1
 for their dignity and pleasurableness  
in the utmost degree1 upon the vivid    
expression of the intellectual life     
which has been concerned in their       
production4  ,,ii4 ,now in all other    
kind of energies except that of man's   
mind1 there is no question as to what is
 life1 and what is not4 ,vital          
sensibility1 whether vegetable or       
animal1 may1 indeed1 be reduced to so   
great feebleness1 as to render its      
existence a matter of question1 but when
 it is evident at all1 it is evident as 
such3 there is no mistaking any         
imitation or pretence of it for the life
 itself2 no mechanism nor galvanism can 
take its place2 nor is any resemblance  
of it so striking as to involve even    
hesitation in the judgment2 although    
many occur which the human imagination  
takes pleasure in exalting1 without for 

an instant losing sight of the real     
nature of the dead things it animates2  
but rejoicing rather in its own         
excessive life1 which puts gesture into 
clouds1 and joy into waves1 and voices  
into rocks4  ,,iii4 ,but when we begin  
to be concerned with the energies of    
man1 we find ourselves instantly dealing
 with a double creature4 ,most part of  
his being seems to have a fictitious    
counterpart1 which it is at his peril if
 he do not cast off and deny4 ,thus he  
has a true and false 7otherwise called a
 living and dead1 or a feigned or       
unfeigned7 faith4 ,he has a true and a  
false hope1 a true and a false charity1 
and1 finally1 a true and a false life4  
,his true life is like that of lower    
organic beings1 the independent force by
 which he moulds and governs external   
things2 it is a force of assimilation   
which converts everything around him    
into food1 or into instruments2 and     
which1 however humbly or obediently it  
may listen to or follow the guidance of 

superior intelligence1 never forfeits   
its own authority as a judging          
principle1 as a will capable either of  
obeying or rebelling4 ,his false life   
is1 indeed1 but one of the conditions of
 death or stupor1 but it acts1 even when
 it cannot be said to animate1 and is   
not always easily known from the true4  
,it is that life of custom and accident 
in which many of us pass much of our    
time in the world2 that life in which we
 do what we have not purposed1 and speak
 what we do not mean1 and assent to what
 we do not understand2 that life which  
is overlaid by the weight of things     
external to it1 and is moulded by them1 
instead of assimilating them2 that1     
which instead of growing and blossoming 
under any wholesome dew1 is crystallised
 over with it1 as with hoar frost1 and  
becomes to the true life what an        
arborescence is to a tree1 a candied    
agglomeration of thoughts and habits    
foreign to it1 brittle1 obstinate1 and  
icy1 which can neither bend nor grow1   

but must be crushed and broken to bits1 
if it stand in our way4 ,all men are    
liable to be in some degree frost-bitten
 in this sort2 all are partly encumbered
 and crusted over with idle matter2     
only1 if they have real life in them1   
they are always breaking this bark away 
in noble rents1 until it becomes1 like  
the black strips upon the birch tree1   
only a witness of their own inward      
strength4 ,but1 with all the efforts    
that the best men make1 much of their   
being passes in a kind of dream1 in     
which they indeed move1 and play their  
parts sufficiently1 to the eyes of their
 fellow-dreamers1 but have no clear     
consciousness of what is around them1 or
 within them2 blind to the one1         
insensible to the other1 ,greek3        
nothroi4 ,i would not press the         
definition into its darker application  
to the dull heart and heavy ear2 ,i have
 to do with it only as it refers to the 
too frequent condition of natural       
existence1 whether of nations or        

individuals1 settling commonly upon them
 in proportion to their age4 ,the life  
of a nation is usually1 like the flow of
 a lava stream1 first bright and fierce1
 then languid and covered1 at last      
advancing only by the tumbling over and 
over of its frozen blocks4 ,and that    
last condition is a sad one to look     
upon4 ,all the steps are marked most    
clearly in the arts1 and in             
,architecture more than in any other2   
for it1 being especially dependent1 as  
we have just said1 on the warmth of the 
true life1 is also peculiarly sensible  
of the hemlock cold of the false2 and ,i
 do not know anything more oppressive1  
when the mind is once awakened to its   
characteristics1 than the aspect of a   
dead architecture4 ,the feebleness of   
childhood is full of promise and of     
interest1--the struggle of imperfect    
knowledge full of energy and            
continuity1--but to see impotence and   
rigidity settling upon the form of the  
developed man2 to see the types which   

once had the die of thought struck fresh
 upon them1 worn flat by over use2 to   
see the shell of the living creature in 
its adult form1 when its colors are     
faded1 and its inhabitant               
perished1--this is a sight more         
humiliating1 more melancholy1 than the  
vanishing of all knowledge1 and the     
return to confessed and helpless        
infancy4  ,nay1 it is to be wished that 
such return were always possible4 ,there
 would be hope if we could change palsy 
into puerility2 but ,i know not how far 
we can become children again1 and renew 
our lost life4 ,the stirring which has  
taken place in our architectural aims   
and interests within these few years1 is
 thought by many to be full of promise3 
,i trust it is1 but it has a sickly look
 to me4 ,i cannot tell whether it be    
indeed a springing of seed or a shaking 
among bones2 and ,i do not think the    
time will be lost which ,i ask the      
reader to spend in the inquiry1 how far 
all that we have hitherto ascertained or

 conjectured to be the best in          
principle1 may be formally practised    
without the spirit or the vitality which
 alone could give it influence1 value1  
or delightfulness4  ,,iv4 ,now1 in the  
first place--and this is rather an      
important point--it is no sign of       
deadness in a present art that it       
borrows or imitates1 but only if it     
borrows without paying interest1 or if  
it imitates without choice4 ,the art of 
a great nation1 which is developed      
without any acquaintance with nobler    
examples than its own early efforts     
furnish1 exhibits always the most       
consistent and comprehensible growth1   
and perhaps is regarded usually as      
peculiarly venerable in its             
self-origination4 ,but there is         
something to my mind more majestic yet  
in the life of an architecture like that
 of the ,lombards1 rude and infantine in
 itself1 and surrounded by fragments of 
a nobler art of which it is quick in    
admiration and ready in imitation1 and  

yet so strong in its own new instincts  
that it re-constructs and re-arranges   
every fragment that it copies or borrows
 into harmony with its own thoughts1--a 
harmony at first disjointed and awkward1
 but completed in the end1 and fused    
into perfect organisation2 all the      
borrowed elements being subordinated to 
its own primal1 unchanged life4 ,i do   
not know any sensation more exquisite   
than the discovering of the evidence of 
this magnificent struggle into          
independent existence2 the detection of 
the borrowed thoughts1 nay1 the finding 
of the actual blocks and stones carved  
by other hands and in other ages1       
wrought into the new walls1 with a new  
expression and purpose given to them1   
like the blocks of unsubdued rocks 7to  
go back to our former simile7 which we  
find in the heart of the lava current1  
great witnesses to the power which has  
fused all but those calcined fragments  
into the mass of its homogeneous fire4  
,v4 ,it will be asked1 ,how is imitation

 to be rendered healthy and vital8      
,unhappily1 while it is easy to         
enumerate the signs of life1 it is      
impossible to define or to communicate  
life2 and while every intelligent writer
 on ,art has insisted on the difference 
between the copying found in an         
advancing or recedent period1 none have 
been able to communicate1 in the        
slightest degree1 the force of vitality 
to the copyist over whom they might have
 influence4 ,yet it is at least         
interesting1 if not profitable1 to note 
that two very distinguishing characters 
of vital imitation are1 its ,frankness  
and its ,audacity2 its ,frankness is    
especially singular2 there is never any 
effort to conceal the degree of the     
sources of its borrowing4 ,raffaelle    
carries off a whole figure from         
,masaccio1 or borrows an entire         
composition from ,perugino1 with as much
 tranquillity and simplicity of         
innocence as a young ,spartan           
pickpocket2 and the architect of a      

,romanesque basilica gathered his       
columns and capitals where he could find
 them1 as an ant picks up sticks4 ,there
 is at least a presumption1 when we find
 this frank acceptance1 that there is a 
sense within the mind of power capable  
of transforming and renewing whatever it
 adopts2 and too conscious1 too exalted1
 to fear the accusation of              
plagiarism1--too certain that it can    
prove1 and has proved1 its independence1
 to be afraid of expressing its homage  
to what it admires in the most open and 
indubitable way2 and the necessary      
consequence of this sense of power is   
the other sign ,i have named--the       
,audacity of treatment when it finds    
treatment necessary1 the unhesitating   
and sweeping sacrifice of precedent     
where precedent becomes inconvenient4   
,for instance1 in the characteristic    
forms of ,italian ,romanesque1 in which 
the hypaethral portion of the heathen   
temple was replaced by the towering     
nave1 and where1 in consequence1 the    

pediment of the west front became       
divided into three portions1 of which   
the central one1 like the apex of a     
ridge of sloping strata lifted by a     
sudden fault1 was broken away from and  
raised above the wings2 there remained  
at the extremities of the aisles two    
triangular fragments of pediment1 which 
could not now be filled by any of the   
modes of decoration adapted for the     
unbroken space2 and the difficulty      
became greater when the central portion 
of the front was occupied by columnar   
ranges1 which could not1 without painful
 abruptness1 terminate short of the     
extremities of the wings4 ,i know not   
what expedient would have been adopted  
by architects who had much respect for  
precedent1 under such circumstances1 but
 it certainly would not have been that  
of the ,pisan1--to continue the range of
 columns into the pedimental space1     
shortening them to its extremity until  
the shaft of the last column vanished   
altogether1 and there remained only its 

capital resting in the angle on its     
basic plinth4 ,i raise no question at   
present whether this arrangement be     
graceful or otherwise2 ,i allege it only
 as an instance of boldness almost      
without a parallel1 casting aside every 
received principle that stood in its    
way1 and struggling through every       
discordance and difficulty to the       
fulfilment of its own instincts4  ,,vi4 
,frankness1 however1 is in itself no    
excuse for repetition1 nor audacity for 
innovation1 when the one is indolent and
 the other unwise4 ,nobler and surer    
signs of vitality must be sought1--signs
 independent alike of the decorative or 
original character of the style1 and    
constant in every style that is         
determinedly progressive4  ,of these1   
one of the most important ,i believe to 
be a certain neglect or contempt of     
refinement in execution1 or1 at all     
events1 a visible subordination of      
execution to conception1 commonly       
involuntary1 but not unfrequently       

intentional4 ,this is a point1 however1 
on which1 while ,i speak confidently1 ,i
 must at the same time reservedly and   
carefully1 as there would otherwise be  
much chance of my being dangerously     
misunderstood4 ,it has been truly       
observed and well stated by ,lord       
,lindsay1 that the best designers of    
,italy were also the most careful in    
their workmanship2 and that the         
stability and finish of their masonry1  
mosaic1 or other work whatsoever1 were  
always perfect in proportion to the     
apparent improbability of the great     
designers condescending to the care of  
details among us so despised4 ,not only 
do ,i fully admit and re-assert this    
most important fact1 but ,i would insist
 upon perfect and most delicate finish  
in its right place1 as a characteristic 
of all the highest schools of           
architecture1 as much as it is those of 
painting4 ,but on the other hand1 as    
perfect finish belongs to the perfected 
art1 a progressive finish belongs to    

progressive art2 and ,i do not think    
that any more fatal sign of a stupor or 
numbness settling upon that undeveloped 
art could possibly be detected1 than    
that it had been taken aback by its own 
execution1 and that the workmanship had 
gone ahead of the design2 while1 even in
 my admission of absolute finish in the 
right place1 as an attribute of the     
perfected school1 ,i must reserve to    
myself the right of answering in my own 
way the two very important questions1   
what is finish8 and what is its right   
place8  ,,vii4 ,but in illustrating     
either of these points1 we must remember
 that the correspondence of workmanship 
with thought is1 in existent examples1  
interfered with by the adoption of the  
designs of an advanced period by the    
workmen of a rude one4 ,all the         
beginnings of ,christian architecture   
are of this kind1 and the necessary     
consequence is of course an increase of 
the visible interval between the power  
of realisation and the beauty of the    

idea4 ,we have at first an imitation1   
almost savage in its rudeness1 of a     
classical design2 as the art advances1  
the design is modified by a mixture of  
,gothic grotesqueness1 and the execution
 more complete1 until a harmony is      
established between the two1 in which   
balance they advance to new perfection4 
,now during the whole period in which   
the ground is being recovered1 there    
will be found in the living architecture
 marks not to be mistaken1 of intense   
impatience2 a struggle towards something
 unattained1 which causes all minor     
points of handling to be neglected2 and 
a restless disdain of all qualities     
which appear either to confess          
contentment or to require a time and    
care which might be better spent4 ,and1 
exactly as a good and earnest student of
 drawing will not lose time in ruling   
lines or finishing backgrounds about    
studies which1 while they have answered 
his immediate purpose1 he knows to be   
imperfect and inferior to what he will  

do hereafter1--so the vigor of a true   
school of early architecture1 which is  
either working under the influence of   
high example or which is itself in a    
state of rapid development1 is very     
curiously traceable1 among other signs1 
in the contempt of exact symmetry and   
measurement1 which in dead architecture 
are the most painful necessities4       
,illustration3 ,,plate ,,xii4--7,page   
#adi--,vol4 ,v47   ,,fragments ,,from   
,,abbeville1 ,,lucca1 ,,venice1 ,,and   
,,pisa4  ,,viii4 ,in ,plate ,,xii4 fig4 
#a ,i have given a most singular        
instance both of rude execution and     
defied symmetry1 in the little pillar   
and spandril from a panel decoration    
under the pulpit of ,st4 ,mark's at     
,venice4 ,the imperfection 7not merely  
simplicity1 but actual rudeness and     
ugliness7 of the leaf ornament will     
strike the eye at once3 this is general 
in works of the time1 but it is not so  
common to find a capital which has been 
so carelessly cut2 its imperfect volutes

 being pushed up one side far higher    
than on the other1 and contracted on    
that side1 an additional drill hole     
being put in to fill the space2 besides 
this1 the member a1 of the mouldings1 is
 a roll where it follows the arch1 and a
 flat fillet at a2 the one being slurred
 into the other at the angle b1 and     
finally stopped short altogether at the 
other side by the most uncourteous and  
remorseless interference of the outer   
moulding3 and in spite of all this1 the 
grace1 proportion1 and feeling of the   
whole arrangement are so great1 that1 in
 its place1 it leaves nothing to be     
desired2 all the science and symmetry in
 the world could not beat it4 ,in fig4  
#d ,i have endeavored to give some idea 
of the execution of the subordinate     
portions of a much higher work1 the     
pulpit of ,st4 ,andrea at ,pistoja1 by  
,nicolo ,pisano4 ,it is covered with    
figure sculptures1 executed with great  
care and delicacy2 but when the sculptor
 came to the simple arch mouldings1 he  

did not choose to draw the eye to them  
by over precision of work or over       
sharpness of shadow4 ,the section       
adopted1 k1 m1 is peculiarly simple1 and
 so slight and obtuse in its recessions 
as never to produce a sharp line2 and it
 is worked with what at first appears   
slovenliness1 but it is in fact         
sculptural sketching2 exactly           
correspondent to a painter's light      
execution of a background3 the lines    
appear and disappear again1 are         
sometimes deep1 sometimes shallow1      
sometimes quite broken off2 and the     
recession of the cusp joins that of the 
external arch at n1 in the most fearless
 defiance of all mathematical laws of   
curvilinear contact4  ,,ix4 ,there is   
something very delightful in this bold  
expression of the mind of the great     
master4 ,i do not say that it is the    
perfect work of patience1 but ,i think  
that impatience is a glorious character 
in an advancing school2 and ,i love the 
,romanesque and early ,gothic           

especially1 because they afford so much 
room for it2 accidental carelessness of 
measurement or of execution being       
mingled undistinguishably with the      
purposed departures from symmetrical    
regularity1 and the luxuriousness of    
perpetually variable fancy1 which are   
eminently characteristic of both styles4
 ,how great1 how frequent they are1 and 
how brightly the severity of            
architectural law is relieved by their  
grace and suddenness1 has not1 ,i think1
 been enough observed2 still less1 the  
unequal measurements of even important  
features professing to be absolutely    
symmetrical4 ,i am not so familiar with 
modern practice as to speak with        
confidence respecting its ordinary      
precision2 but ,i imagine that the      
following measures of the western front 
of the cathedral of ,pisa1 would be     
looked upon by present architects as    
very blundering approximations4 ,that   
front is divided into seven arched      
compartments1 of which the second1      

fourth or central1 and sixth contain    
doors2 the seven are in a most subtle   
alternating proportion2 the central     
being the largest1 next to it the second
 and sixth1 then the first and seventh1 
lastly the third and fifth4 ,by this    
arrangement1 of course1 these three     
pairs should be equal2 and they are so  
to the eye1 but ,i found their actual   
measures to be the following1 taken from
 pillar to pillar1 in ,italian braccia1 
palmi 7four inches each71 and inches3-- 
,braccia4 ,palmi4 ,inches4 ,total in    
inches4   #a4 ,central door             
#h      #j     #j     #aib   #b4        
,northern door                          
#f      #c    #a-a_/b  #aeg-a_/b   #c4  
,southern door                          
#f      #d     #c     #afc   #d4        
,extreme northern space                 
#e      #e    #c-a_/b  #adc-a_/b   #e4  
,extreme southern space                 
#f      #a    #j-a_/b  #adh-a_/b   #f4  
,northern intervals between the doors   
#e      #b     #a     #abi   #g4        

,southern intervals between the doors   
#e      #b    #a-a_/b  #abi-a_/b  ,there
 is thus a difference1 severally1       
between #b1 #c and #d1 #e1 of five      
inches and a half in the one case1 and  
five inches in the other4  ,x4 ,this1   
however1 may perhaps be partly          
attributable to some accommodation of   
the accidental distortions which        
evidently took place in the walls of the
 cathedral during their building1 as    
much as in those of the campanile4 ,to  
my mind1 those of the ,duomo are far the
 most wonderful of the two3 ,i do not   
believe that a single pillar of its     
walls is absolutely vertical3 the       
pavement rises and falls to different   
heights1 or rather the plinth of the    
walls sinks into it continually to      
different depths1 the whole west front  
literally overhangs 7,i have not plumbed
 it2 but the inclination may be seen by 
the eye1 by bringing it into visual     
contact with the upright pilasters of   
the ,campo ,santo73 and a most          

extraordinary distortion in the masonry 
of the southern wall shows that this    
inclination had begun when the first    
story was built4 ,the cornice above the 
first arcade of that wall touches the   
tops of eleven out of its fifteen       
arches2 but it suddenly leaves the tops 
of the four westernmost2 the arches     
nodding westward and sinking into the   
ground1 while the cornice rises 7or     
seems to rise71 leaving at any rate1    
whether by the rise of the one or the   
fall of the other1 an interval of more  
than two feet between it and the top of 
the western arch1 filled by added       
courses of masonry4 ,there is another   
very curious evidence of this struggle  
of the architect with his yielding wall 
in the columns of the main entrance4    
7,these notices are perhaps somewhat    
irrelevant to our immediate subject1 but
 they appear to me highly interesting2  
and they1 at all events1 prove one of   
the points on which ,i would            
insist1--how much of imperfection and   

variety in things professing to be      
symmetrical the eyes of those eager     
builders could endure3 they looked to   
loveliness in detail1 to nobility in the
 whole1 never to petty measurements47   
,those columns of the principal entrance
 are among the loveliest in ,italy2     
cylindrical1 and decorated with a rich  
arabesque of sculptured foliage1 which  
at the base extends nearly all round    
them1 up to the black pilaster in which 
they are lightly engaged3 but the shield
 of foliage1 bounded by a severe line1  
narrows to their tops1 where it covers  
their frontal segment only2 thus giving1
 when laterally seen1 a terminal line   
sloping boldly outwards1 which1 as ,i   
think1 was meant to conceal the         
accidental leaning of the western walls1
 and1 by its exaggerated inclination in 
the same direction1 to throw them by    
comparison into a seeming vertical4     
,,xi4 ,there is another very curious    
instance of distortion above the central
 door of the west front4 ,all the       

intervals between the seven arches are  
filled with black marble1 each          
containing in its centre a white        
parallelogram filled with animal        
mosaics1 and the whole surmounted by a  
broad white band1 which1 generally1 does
 not touch the parallelogram below4 ,but
 the parallelogram on the north of the  
central arch has been forced into an    
oblique position1 and touches the white 
band2 and1 as if the architect was      
determined to show that he did not care 
whether it did or not1 the white band   
suddenly gets thicker at that place1 and
 remains so over the two next arches4   
,and these differences are the more     
curious because the workmanship of them 
all is most finished and masterly1 and  
the distorted stones are fitted with as 
much neatness as if they tallied to a   
hair's breadth4 ,there is no look of    
slurring or blundering about it2 it is  
all coolly filled in1 as if the builder 
had no sense of anything being wrong or 
extraordinary3 ,i only wish we had a    

little of his impudence4  ,,xii4 ,still1
 the reader will say that all these     
variations are probably dependent more  
on the bad foundation than on the       
architect's feeling4 ,not so the        
exquisite delicacies of change in the   
proportions and dimensions of the       
apparently symmetrical arcades of the   
west front4 ,it will be remembered that 
,i said the tower of ,pisa was the only 
ugly tower in ,italy1 because its tiers 
were equal1 or nearly so1 in height2 a  
fault this1 so contrary to the spirit of
 the builders of the time1 that it can  
be considered only as an unlucky        
caprice4 ,perhaps the general aspect of 
the west front of the cathedral may then
 have occurred to the reader's mind1 as 
seemingly another contradiction of the  
rule ,i had advanced4 ,it would not have
 been so1 however1 even had its four    
upper arcades been actually equal2 as   
they are subordinated to the great      
seven-arched lower story1 in the manner 
before noticed respecting the spire of  

,salisbury1 and as is actually the case 
in the ,duomo of ,lucca and ,tower of   
,pistoja4 ,but the ,pisan front is far  
more subtly proportioned4 ,not one of   
its four arcades is of like height with 
another4 ,the highest is the third1     
counting upwards2 and they diminish in  
nearly arithmetical proportion          
alternately2 in the order #crd1 #ast1   
#bnd1 #dth4 ,the inequalities in their  
arches are not less remarkable3 they at 
first strike the eye as all equal2 but  
there is a grace about them which       
equality never obtained3 on closer      
observation1 it is perceived that in the
 first row of nineteen arches1 eighteen 
are equal1 and the central one larger   
than the rest2 in the second arcade1 the
 nine central arches stand over the nine
 below1 having1 like them1 the ninth    
central one largest4 ,but on their      
flanks1 where is the slope of the       
shoulder-like pediment1 the arches      
vanish1 and a wedge-shaped frieze takes 
their place1 tapering outwards1 in order

 to allow the columns to be carried to  
the extremity of the pediment2 and here1
 where the heights of the shafts are so 
far shortened1 they are set thicker2    
five shafts1 or rather four and a       
capital1 above1 to four of the arcade   
below1 giving twenty-one intervals      
instead of nineteen4 ,in the next or    
third arcade1--which1 remember1 is the  
highest1--eight arches1 all equal1 are  
given in the space of the nine below1 so
 that there is now a central shaft      
instead of a central arch1 and the span 
of the arches is increased in proportion
 to their increased height4 ,finally1 in
 the uppermost arcade1 which is the     
lowest of all1 the arches1 the same in  
number as those below1 are narrower than
 any of the facade2 the whole eight     
going very nearly above the six below   
them1 while the terminal arches of the  
lower arcade are surmounted by flanking 
masses of decorated wall with projecting
 figures4  ,,xiv4 ,now ,i call that     
,living ,architecture4 ,there is        

sensation in every inch of it1 and an   
accommodation to every architectural    
necessity1 with a determined variation  
in arrangement1 which is exactly like   
the related proportions and provisions  
in the structure of organic form4 ,i    
have not space to examine the still     
lovelier proportioning of the external  
shafts of the apse of this marvellous   
building4 ,i prefer1 lest the reader    
should think it a peculiar example1 to  
state the structure of another church1  
the most graceful and grand piece of    
,romanesque work1 as a fragment1 in     
north ,italy1 that of ,san ,giovanni    
,evangelista at ,pistoja4  ,the side of 
that church has three stories of arcade1
 diminishing in height in bold          
geometrical proportion1 while the       
arches1 for the most part1 increase in  
number in arithmetical1 i4e4 two in the 
second arcade1 and three in the third1  
to one in the first4 ,lest1 however1    
this arrangement should be too formal1  
of the fourteen arches in the lowest    

series1 that which contains the door is 
made larger than the rest1 and is not in
 the middle1 but the sixth from the     
,west1 leaving five on one side and     
eight on the other4 ,farther3 this      
lowest arcade is terminated by broad    
flat pilasters1 about half the width of 
its arches2 but the arcade above is     
continuous2 only the two extreme arches 
at the west end are made larger than all
 the rest1 and instead of coming1 as    
they should1 into the space of the lower
 extreme arch1 take in both it and its  
broad pilaster4 ,even this1 however1 was
 not out of order enough to satisfy the 
architect's eye2 for there were still   
two arches above to each single one     
below3 so at the east end1 where there  
are more arches1 and the eye might be   
more easily cheated1 what does he do but
 narrow the two extreme lower arches by 
half a braccio2 while he at the same    
time slightly enlarged the upper ones1  
so as to get only seventeen upper to    
nine lower1 instead of eighteen to nine4

 ,the eye is thus thoroughly confused1  
and the whole building thrown into one  
mass1 by the curious variations in the  
adjustments of the superimposed shafts1 
not one of which is either exactly in   
nor positively out of its place2 and1 to
 get this managed the more cunningly1   
there is from an inch to an inch and a  
half of gradual gain in the space of the
 four eastern arches1 besides the       
confessed half braccio4 ,their measures1
 counting from the east1 ,i found as    
follows3--           ,braccia4 ,palmi4  
,inches4    #ast       #c        #j     
#a   #bnd       #c        #j      #b    
#crd       #c        #c      #b   #dth  
#c        #c      #c-a_/b  ,the upper   
arcade is managed on the same principle2
 it looks at first as if there were     
three arches to each under pair2 but    
there are1 in reality1 only thirty-eight
 7or thirty-seven1 ,i am not quite      
certain of this number7 to the          
twenty-seven below2 and the columns get 
into all manner of relative positions4  

,even then1 the builder was not         
satisfied1 but must needs carry the     
irregularity into the spring of the     
arches1 and actually1 while the general 
effect is of a symmetrical arcade1 there
 is not one of the arches the same in   
height as another2 their tops undulate  
all along the wall like waves along a   
harbor quay1 some nearly touching the   
string course above1 and others falling 
from it as much as five or six inches4  
,,xiv4 ,let us next examine the plan of 
the west front of ,st4 ,mark's at       
,venice1 which1 though in many respects 
imperfect1 is in its proportions1 and as
 a piece of rich and fantastic color1 as
 lovely a dream as ever filled human    
imagination4 ,it may1 perhaps1 however1 
interest the reader to hear one opposite
 opinion upon this subject1 and after   
what has been urged in the preceding    
pages respecting proportion in general1 
more especially respecting the wrongness
 of balanced cathedral towers and other 
regular designs1 together with my       

frequent references to the ,doge's      
palace1 and campanile of ,st4 ,mark's1  
as models of perfection1 and my praise  
of the former especially as projecting  
above its second arcade1 the following  
extracts from the journal of ,wood the  
architect1 written on his arrival at    
,venice1 may have a pleasing freshness  
in them1 and may show that ,i have not  
been stating principles altogether trite
 or accepted4  ,the strange looking     
church1 and the great ugly campanile1   
could not be mistaken4 ,the exterior of 
this church surprises you by its extreme
 ugliness1 more than by anything else4  
,the ,ducal ,palace is even more ugly   
than anything ,i have previously        
mentioned4 ,considered in detail1 ,i can
 imagine no alteration to make it       
tolerable2 but if this lofty wall had   
been set back behind the two stories of 
little arches1 it would have been a very
 noble production4  ,after more         
observations on a certain justness of   
proportion1 and on the appearance of    

riches and power in the church1 to which
 he ascribes a pleasing effect1 he goes 
on3 ,some persons are of opinion that   
irregularity is a necessary part of its 
excellence4 ,i am decidedly of a        
contrary opinion1 and am convinced that 
a regular design of the same sort would 
be far superior4 ,let an oblong of good 
architecture1 but not very showy1       
conduct to a fine cathedral1 which      
should appear between two lofty towers  
and have two obelisks in front1 and on  
each side of this cathedral let other   
squares partially open into the first1  
and one of these extend down to a harbor
 or sea shore1 and you would have a     
scene which might challenge any thing in
 existence4  ,why ,mr4 ,wood was unable 
to enjoy the color of ,st4 ,mark's1 or  
perceive the majesty of the ,ducal      
,palace1 the reader will see after      
reading the two following extracts      
regarding the ,caracci and ,michael     
,angelo4  ,the pictures here 7,bologna7 
are to my taste far preferable to those 

of ,venice1 for if the ,venetian school 
surpass in coloring1 and1 perhaps1 in   
composition1 the ,bolognese is decidedly
 superior in drawing and expression1 and
 the ,caraccis shine here like ,gods4   
,what is it that is so much admired in  
this artist 7,m4 ,angelo78 ,some contend
 for a grandeur of composition in the   
lines and disposition of the figures2   
this1 ,i confess1 ,i do not comprehend2 
yet1 while ,i acknowledge the beauty of 
certain forms and proportions in        
architecture1 ,i cannot consistently    
deny that similar merits may exist in   
painting1 though ,i am unfortunately    
unable to appreciate them4  ,i think    
these passages very valuable1 as showing
 the effect of a contracted knowledge   
and false taste in painting upon an     
architect's understanding of his own    
art2 and especially with what curious   
notions1 or lack of notions1 about      
proportion1 that art has been sometimes 
practised4 ,for ,mr4 ,wood is by no     
means unintelligent in his observations 

generally1 and his criticisms on        
classical art are often most valuable4  
,but those who love ,titian better than 
the ,caracci1 and who see something to  
admire in ,michael ,angelo1 will1       
perhaps1 be willing to proceed with me  
to a charitable examination of ,st4     
,mark's4 ,for1 although1 the present    
course of ,european events affords us   
some chance of seeing the changes       
proposed by ,mr4 ,wood carried into     
execution1 we may still esteem ourselves
 fortunate in having first known how it 
was left by the builders of the eleventh
 century4  ,,xv4 ,the entire front is   
composed of an upper and lower series of
 arches1 enclosing spaces of wall       
decorated with mosaic1 and supported on 
ranges of shafts of which1 in the lower 
series of arches1 there is an upper     
range superimposed on a lower4 ,thus we 
have five vertical divisions of the     
facade2 i4e4 two tiers of shafts1 and   
the arched wall they bear1 below2 one   
tier of shafts1 and the arched wall they

 bear1 above4 ,in order1 however1 to    
bind the two main divisions together1   
the central lower arch 7the main        
entrance7 rises above the level of the  
gallery and balustrade which crown the  
lateral arches4  ,the proportioning of  
the columns and walls of the lower story
 is so lovely and so varied1 that it    
would need pages of description before  
it could be fully understood2 but it may
 be generally stated thus3 ,the height  
of the lower shafts1 upper shafts1 and  
wall1 being severally expressed by a1 b1
 and c1 then a3c33c3b 7a being the      
highest72 and the diameter of shaft b is
 generally to the diameter of shaft a as
 height b is to height a1 or something  
less1 allowing for the large plinth     
which diminishes the apparent height of 
the upper shaft3 and when this is their 
proportion of width1 one shaft above is 
put above one below1 with sometimes     
another upper shaft interposed3 but in  
the extreme arches a single under shaft 
bears two upper1 proportioned as truly  

as the boughs of a tree2 that is to say1
 the diameter of each upper  #b_/c of   
lower4 ,there being thus the three terms
 of proportion gained in the lower      
story1 the upper1 while it is only      
divided into two main members1 in order 
that the whole height may not be divided
 into an even number1 has the third term
 added in its pinnacles4 ,so far of the 
vertical division4 ,the lateral is still
 more subtle4 ,there are seven arches in
 the lower story2 and1 calling the      
central arch a1 and counting to the     
extremity1 they diminish in the         
alternate order a1 c1 b1 d4 ,the upper  
story has five arches1 and two added    
pinnacles2 and these diminish in regular
 order1 the central being the largest1  
and the outermost the least4 ,hence1    
while one proportion ascends1 another   
descends1 like parts in music2 and yet  
the pyramidal form is secured for the   
whole1 and1 which was another great     
point of attention1 none of the shafts  
of the upper arches stand over those of 

the lower4  ,,xvi4 ,it might have been  
thought that1 by this plan1 enough      
variety had been secured1 but the       
builder was not satisfied even thus3    
for--and this is the point bearing on   
the present part of our subject--always 
calling the central arch a1 and the     
lateral ones b and c in succession1 the 
northern b and c are considerably wider 
than the southern b and c1 but the      
southern d is as much wider than the    
northern d1 and lower beneath its       
cornice besides2 and1 more than this1 ,i
 hardly believe that one of the         
effectively symmetrical members of the  
facade is actually symmetrical with any 
other4 ,i regret that ,i cannot state   
the actual measures4 ,i gave up the     
taking them upon the spot1 owing to     
their excessive complexity1 and the     
embarrassment caused by the yielding and
 subsidence of the arches4  ,do not let 
it be supposed that ,i imagine the      
,byzantine workmen to have had these    
various principles in their minds as    

they built4 ,i believe they built       
altogether from feeling1 and that it was
 because they did so1 that there is this
 marvellous life1 changefulness1 and    
subtlety running through their every    
arrangement2 and that we reason upon the
 lovely building as we should upon some 
fair growth of the trees of the earth1  
that know not their own beauty4  ,,xvii4
 ,perhaps1 however1 a stranger instance 
than any ,i have yet given1 of the      
daring variation of pretended symmetry1 
is found in the front of the ,cathedral 
of ,bayeux4 ,it consists of five arches 
with steep pediments1 the outermost     
filled1 the three central with doors2   
and they appear1 at first1 to diminish  
in regular proportion from the principal
 one in the centre4 ,the two lateral    
doors are very curiously managed4 ,the  
tympana of their arches are filled with 
bas-reliefs1 in four tiers2 in the      
lowest tier there is in each a little   
temple or gate containing the principal 
figure 7in that on the right1 it is the 

gate of ,hades with ,lucifer74 ,this    
little temple is carried1 like a        
capital1 by an isolated shaft which     
divides the whole arch at about #b_/c of
 its breadth1 the larger portion        
outmost2 and in that larger portion is  
the inner entrance door4 ,this exact    
correspondence1 in the treatment of both
 gates1 might lead us to expect a       
correspondence in dimension4 ,not at    
all4 ,the small inner northern entrance 
measures1 in ,english feet and inches1  
#d ft4 #g in4 from jamb to jamb1 and the
 southern five feet exactly4 ,five      
inches in five feet is a considerable   
variation4 ,the outer northern porch    
measures1 from face shaft to face shaft1
 #ac ft4 #aa in41 and the southern1 #ad 
ft4 #f in42 giving a difference of #g   
in4 on #ad-a_/b ft4 ,there are also     
variations in the pediment decorations  
not less extraordinary4  ,,xviii4 ,i    
imagine ,i have given instances enough1 
though ,i could multiply them           
indefinitely1 to prove that these       

variations are not mere blunders1 nor   
carelessnesses1 but the result of a     
fixed scorn1 if not dislike1 of accuracy
 in measurements2 and1 in most cases1 ,i
 believe1 of a determined resolution to 
work out an effective symmetry by       
variations as subtle as those of        
,nature4 ,to what lengths this principle
 was sometimes carried1 we shall see by 
the very singular management of the     
towers of ,abbeville4 ,i do not say it  
is right1 still less that it is wrong1  
but it is a wonderful proof of the      
fearlessness of a living architecture2  
for1 say what we will of it1 that       
,flamboyant of ,france1 however morbid1 
was as vivid and intense in its         
animation as ever any phase of mortal   
mind2 and it would have lived till now1 
if it had not taken to telling lies4 ,i 
have before noticed the general         
difficulty of managing even lateral     
division1 when it is into two equal     
parts1 unless there be some third       
reconciling member4 ,i shall give1      

hereafter1 more examples of the modes in
 which this reconciliation is effected  
in towers with double lights3 the       
,abbeville architect put his sword to   
the knot perhaps rather too sharply4    
,vexed by the want of unity between his 
two windows he literally laid their     
heads together1 and so distorted their  
ogee curves1 as to leave only one of the
 trefoiled panels above1 on the inner   
side1 and three on the outer side of    
each arch4 ,the arrangement is given in 
,plate ,,xii4 fig4 #c4 ,associated with 
the various undulation of flamboyant    
curves below1 it is in the real tower   
hardly observed1 while it binds it into 
one mass in general effect4 ,granting   
it1 however1 to be ugly and wrong1 ,i   
like sins of the kind1 for the sake of  
the courage it requires to commit them4 
,in plate ,,ii4 7part of a small chapel 
attached to the ,west front of the      
,cathedral of ,st4 ,lo71 the reader will
 see an instance1 from the same         
architecture1 of a violation of its own 

principles1 for the sake of a peculiar  
meaning4 ,if there be any one feature   
which the flamboyant architect loved to 
decorate richly1 it was the niche--it   
was what the capital is to the          
,corinthian order2 yet in the case      
before us there is an ugly beehive put  
in the place of the principal niche of  
the arch4 ,i am not sure if ,i am right 
in my interpretation of its meaning1 but
 ,i have little doubt that two figures  
below1 now broken away1 once represented
 an ,annunciation2 and on another part  
of the same cathedral1 ,i find the      
descent of the ,spirit1 encompassed by  
rays of light1 represented very nearly  
in the form of the niche in question2   
which appears1 therefore1 to be intended
 for a representation of this           
effulgence1 while at the same time it   
was made a canopy for the delicate      
figures below4 ,whether this was its    
meaning or not1 it is remarkable as a   
daring departure from the common habits 
of the time4  ,,xix4 ,far more splendid 

is a license taken with the niche       
decoration of the portal of ,st4 ,maclou
 at ,rouen4 ,the subject of the tympanum
 bas-relief is the ,last ,judgment1 and 
the sculpture of the inferno side is    
carried out with a degree of power whose
 fearful grotesqueness ,i can only      
describe as a mingling of the minds of  
,orcagna and ,hogarth4 ,the demons are  
perhaps even more awful than ,orcagna's2
 and1 in some of the expressions of     
debased humanity in its utmost despair1 
the ,english painter is at least        
equalled4 ,not less wild is the         
imagination which gives fury and fear   
even to the placing of the figures4 ,an 
evil angel1 poised on the wing1 drives  
the condemned troops from before the    
,judgment seat2 with his left hand he   
drags behind him a cloud1 which is      
spreading like a winding-sheet over them
 all2 but they are urged by him so      
furiously1 that they are driven not     
merely to the extreme limit of that     
scene1 which the sculptor confined      

elsewhere within the tympanum1 but out  
of the tympanum and into the niches of  
the arch2 while the flames that follow  
them1 bent by the blast1 as it seems1 of
 the angel's wings1 rush into the niches
 also1 and burst up through their       
tracery1 the three lowermost niches     
being represented as all on fire1 while1
 instead of their usual vaulted and     
ribbed ceiling1 there is a demon in the 
roof of each1 with his wings folded over
 it1 grinning down out of the black     
shadow4    ,illustration3 ,,plate       
,,xiii4--7,page #afa--,vol4 ,v47        
,,portions ,,of ,,an ,,arcade ,,on ,,the
 ,,south ,,side ,,of ,,the ,,cathedral  
,,of ,,ferrara4  ,,xx4 ,i have1 however1
 given enough instances of vitality     
shown in mere daring1 whether wise1 as  
surely in this last instance1 or        
inexpedient2 but1 as a single example of
 the ,vitality of ,assimilation1 the    
faculty which turns to its purposes all 
material that is submitted to it1 ,i    
would refer the reader to the           

extraordinary columns of the arcade on  
the south side of the ,cathedral of     
,ferrara4 ,a single arch of it is given 
in ,plate ,,xiii4 on the right4 ,four   
such columns forming a group1 there are 
interposed two pairs of columns1 as seen
 on the left of the same plate2 and then
 come another four arches4 ,it is a long
 arcade of1 ,i suppose1 not less than   
forty arches1 perhaps of many more2 and 
in the grace and simplicity of its      
stilted ,byzantine curves ,i hardly know
 its equal4 ,its like1 in fancy of      
column1 ,i certainly do not know2 there 
being hardly two correspondent1 and the 
architect having been ready1 as it      
seems1 to adopt ideas and resemblances  
from any sources whatsoever4 ,the       
vegetation growing up the two columns is
 fine1 though bizarre2 the distorted    
pillars beside it suggest images of less
 agreeable character2 the serpentine    
arrangements founded on the usual       
,byzantine double knot are generally    
graceful2 but ,i was puzzled to account 

for the excessively ugly type of the    
pillar1 fig4 #c1 one of a group of four4
 ,it so happened1 fortunately for me1   
that there had been a fair in ,ferrara2 
and1 when ,i had finished my sketch of  
the pillar1 ,i had to get out of the way
 of some merchants of miscellaneous     
wares1 who were removing their stall4   
,it had been shaded by an awning        
supported by poles1 which1 in order that
 the covering might be raised or lowered
 according to the height of the sun1    
were composed of two separate pieces1   
fitted to each other by a rack1 in which
 ,i beheld the prototype of my ugly     
pillar4 ,it will not be thought1 after  
what ,i have above said of the          
inexpedience of imitating anything but  
natural form1 that ,i advance this      
architect's practice as altogether      
exemplary2 yet the humility is          
instructive1 which condescended to such 
sources for motives of thought1 the     
boldness1 which could depart so far from
 all established types of form1 and the 

life and feeling1 which out of an       
assemblage of such quaint and uncouth   
materials1 could produce an harmonious  
piece of ecclesiastical architecture4   
,,xxi4 ,i have dwelt1 however1 perhaps1 
too long upon that form of vitality     
which is known almost as much by its    
errors as by its atonements for them4   
,we must briefly note the operation of  
it1 which is always right1 and always   
necessary1 upon those lesser details1   
where it can neither be superseded by   
precedents1 nor repressed by            
proprieties4  ,i said1 early in this    
essay1 that hand-work might always be   
known from machine-work2 observing1     
however1 at the same time1 that it was  
possible for men to turn themselves into
 machines1 and to reduce their labor to 
the machine level2 but so long as men   
work as men1 putting their heart into   
what they do1 and doing their best1 it  
matters not how bad workmen they may be1
 there will be that in the handling     
which is above all price3 it will be    

plainly seen that some places have been 
delighted in more than others--that     
there has been a pause1 and a care about
 them2 and then there will come careless
 bits1 and fast bits2 and here the      
chisel will have struck hard1 and there 
lightly1 and anon timidly2 and if the   
man's mind as well as his heart went    
with his work1 all this will be in the  
right places1 and each part will set off
 the other2 and the effect of the whole1
 as compared with the same design cut by
 a machine or a lifeless hand1 will be  
like that of poetry well read and deeply
 felt to that of the same verses jangled
 by rote4 ,there are many to whom the   
difference is imperceptible2 but to     
those who love poetry it is             
everything--they had rather not hear it 
at all1 than hear it ill read2 and to   
those who love ,architecture1 the life  
and accent of the hand are everything4  
,they had rather not have ornament at   
all1 than see it ill cut--deadly cut1   
that is4 ,i cannot too often repeat1 it 

is not coarse cutting1 it is not blunt  
cutting1 that is necessarily bad2 but it
 is cold cutting--the look of equal     
trouble everywhere--the smooth1 diffused
 tranquillity of heartless pains--the   
regularity of a plough in a level field4
 ,the chill is more likely1 indeed1 to  
show itself in finished work than in any
 other--men cool and tire as they       
complete3 and if completeness is thought
 to be vested in polish1 and to be      
attainable by help of sand paper1 we may
 as well give the work to the           
engine-lathe at once4 ,but right finish 
is simply the full rendering of the     
intended impression2 and high finish is 
the rendering of a well intended and    
vivid impression2 and it is oftener got 
by rough than fine handling4 ,i am not  
sure whether it is frequently enough    
observed that sculpture is not the mere 
cutting of the form of anything in      
stone2 it is the cutting of the effect  
of it4 ,very often the true form1 in the
 marble1 would not be in the least like 

itself4 ,the sculptor must paint with   
his chisel3 half his touches are not to 
realize1 but to put power into the form3
 they are touches of light and shadow2  
and raise a ridge1 or sink a hollow1 not
 to represent an actual ridge or hollow1
 but to get a line of light1 or a spot  
of darkness4 ,in a coarse way1 this kind
 of execution is very marked in old     
,french woodwork2 the irises of the eyes
 of its chimeric monsters being cut     
boldly into holes1 which1 variously     
placed1 and always dark1 give all kinds 
of strange and startling expressions1   
averted and askance1 to the fantastic   
countenances4 ,perhaps the highest      
examples of this kind of                
sculpture-painting are the works of     
,mino da ,fiesole2 their best effects   
being reached by strange angular1 and   
seemingly rude1 touches of the chisel4  
,the lips of one of the children on the 
tombs in the church of the ,badia1      
appear only half finished when they are 
seen close2 yet the expression is       

farther carried and more ineffable1 than
 in any piece of marble ,i have ever    
seen1 especially considering its        
delicacy1 and the softness of the       
child-features4 ,in a sterner kind1 that
 of the statues in the sacristy of ,st4 
,lorenzo equals it1 and there again by  
incompletion4 ,i know no example of work
 in which the forms are absolutely true 
and complete where such a result is     
attained2 in ,greek sculptures is not   
even attempted4  ,,xxii4 ,it is evident 
that1 for architectural appliances1 such
 masculine handling1 likely as it must  
be to retain its effectiveness when     
higher finish would be injured by time1 
must always be the most expedient2 and  
as it is impossible1 even were it       
desirable that the highest finish should
 be given to the quantity of work which 
covers a large building1 it will be     
understood how precious the intelligence
 must become1 which renders incompletion
 itself a means of additional           
expression2 and how great must be the   

difference1 when the touches are rude   
and few1 between those of a careless and
 those of a regardful mind4 ,it is not  
easy to retain anything of their        
character in a copy2 yet the reader will
 find one or two illustrative points in 
the examples1 given in ,plate ,,xiv41   
from the bas-reliefs of the north of    
,rouen ,cathedral4 ,there are three     
square pedestals under the three main   
niches on each side of it1 and one in   
the centre2 each of these being on two  
sides decorated with five quatrefoiled  
panels4 ,there are thus seventy         
quatrefoils in the lower ornament of the
 gate alone1 without counting those of  
the outer course round it1 and of the   
pedestals outside3 each quatrefoil is   
filled with a bas-relief1 the whole     
reaching to something above a man's     
height4 ,a modern architect would1 of   
course1 have made all the five          
quatrefoils of each pedestal-side equal3
 not so the ,mediaeval4 ,the general    
form being apparently a quatrefoil      

composed of semicircles on the sides of 
a square1 it will be found on           
examination that none of the arcs are   
semicircles1 and none of the basic      
figures squares4 ,the latter are        
rhomboids1 having their acute or obtuse 
angles uppermost according to their     
larger or smaller size2 and the arcs    
upon their sides slide into such places 
as they can get in the angles of the    
enclosing parallelogram1 leaving        
intervals1 at each of the four angles1  
of various shapes1 which are filled each
 by an animal4 ,the size of the whole   
panel being thus varied1 the two lowest 
of the five are tall1 the next two      
short1 and the uppermost a little higher
 than the lowest2 while in the course of
 bas-reliefs which surrounds the gate1  
calling either of the two lowest 7which 
are equal71 a1 and either of the next   
two b1 and the fifth and sixth c and d1 
then d 7the largest73 c33c3a33a3b4 ,it  
is wonderful how much of the grace of   
the whole depends on these variations4  

,,xxiii4 ,each of the angles1 it was    
said1 is filled by an animal4 ,there are
 thus #gj x #dbhj animals1 all          
different1 in the mere fillings of the  
intervals of the bas-reliefs4 ,three of 
these intervals1 with their beasts1     
actual size1 the curves being traced    
upon the stone1 ,i have given in ,plate 
,,xiv4    ,illustration3 ,,plate        
,,xiv4--7,page #afe--,vol4 ,v47         
,,sculpture ,,from ,,the ,,cathedral    
,,of ,,rouen4  ,i say nothing of their  
general design1 or of the lines of the  
wings and scales1 which are perhaps1    
unless in those of the central dragon1  
not much above the usual commonplaces of
 good ornamental work2 but there is an  
evidence in the features of             
thoughtfulness and fancy which is not   
common1 at least now-a-days4 ,the upper 
creature on the left is biting          
something1 the form of which is hardly  
traceable in the defaced stone--but     
biting he is2 and the reader cannot but 
recognise in the peculiarly reverted eye

 the expression which is never seen1 as 
,i think1 but in the eye of a dog       
gnawing something in jest1 and preparing
 to start away with it3 the meaning of  
the glance1 so far as it can be marked  
by the mere incision of the chisel1 will
 be felt by comparing it with the eye of
 the couchant figure on the right1 in   
its gloomy and angry brooding4 ,the plan
 of this head1 and the nod of the cap   
over its brow1 are fine2 but there is a 
little touch above the hand especially  
well meant3 the fellow is vexed and     
puzzled in his malice2 and his hand is  
pressed hard on his cheek bone1 and the 
flesh of the cheek is wrinkled under the
 eye by the pressure4 ,the whole1       
indeed1 looks wretchedly coarse1 when it
 is seen on a scale in which it is      
naturally compared with delicate figure 
etchings2 but considering it as a mere  
filling of an interstice on the outside 
of a cathedral gate1 and as one of more 
than three hundred 7for in my estimate  
,i did not include the outer pedestals71

 it proves very noble vitality in the   
art of the time4  ,,xxiv4 ,i believe the
 right question to ask1 respecting all  
ornament1 is simply this3 ,was it done  
with enjoyment--was the carver happy    
while he was about it8 ,it may be the   
hardest work possible1 and the harder   
because so much pleasure was taken in   
it2 but it must have been happy too1 or 
it will not be living4 ,how much of the 
stone mason's toil this condition would 
exclude ,i hardly venture to consider1  
but the condition is absolute4 ,there is
 a ,gothic church lately built near     
,rouen1 vile enough1 indeed1 in its     
general composition1 but excessively    
rich in detail2 many of the details are 
designed with taste1 and all evidently  
by a man who has studied old work       
closely4 ,but it is all as dead as      
leaves in ,december2 there is not one   
tender touch1 not one warm stroke1 on   
the whole facade4 ,the men who did it   
hated it1 and were thankful when it was 
done4 ,and so long as they do so they   

are merely loading your walls with      
shapes of clay3 the garlands of         
everlastings in ,pere la ,chaise are    
more cheerful ornaments4 ,you cannot get
 the feeling by paying for it--money    
will not buy life4 ,i am not sure even  
that you can get it by watching or      
waiting for it4 ,it is true that here   
and there a workman may be found who has
 it in him1 but he does not rest        
contented in the inferior work--he      
struggles forward into an ,academician2 
and from the mass of available          
handicraftsmen the power is gone--how   
recoverable ,i know not3 this only ,i   
know1 that all expense devoted to       
sculptural ornament1 in the present     
condition of that power1 comes literally
 under the head of ,sacrifice for the   
sacrifice's sake1 or worse4 ,i believe  
the only manner of rich ornament that is
 open to us is the geometrical          
color-mosaic1 and that much might result
 from our strenuously taking up this    
mode of design4 ,but1 at all events1 one

 thing we have in our power--the doing  
without machine ornament and cast-iron  
work4 ,all the stamped metals1 and      
artificial stones1 and imitation woods  
and bronzes1 over the invention of which
 we hear daily exultation--all the      
short1 and cheap1 and easy ways of doing
 that whose difficulty is its honor--are
 just so many new obstacles in our      
already encumbered road4 ,they will not 
make one of us happier or wiser--they   
will extend neither the pride of        
judgment nor the privilege of enjoyment4
 ,they will only make us shallower in   
our understandings1 colder in our       
hearts1 and feebler in our wits4 ,and   
most justly4 ,for we are not sent into  
this world to do any thing into which we
 cannot put our hearts4 ,we have certain
 work to do for our bread1 and that is  
to be done strenuously2 other work to do
 for our delight1 and that is to be done
 heartily3 neither is to be done by     
halves or shifts1 but with a will2 and  
what is not worth this effort is not to 

be done at all4 ,perhaps all that we    
have to do is meant for nothing more    
than an exercise of the heart and of the
 will1 and is useless in itself2 but1 at
 all events1 the little use it has may  
well be spared if it is not worth       
putting our hands and our strength to4  
,it does not become our immortality to  
take an ease inconsistent with its      
authority1 nor to suffer any instruments
 with which it can dispense1 to come    
between it and the things it rules3 and 
he who would form the creations of his  
own mind by any other instrument than   
his own hand1 would1 also1 if he might1 
give grinding organs to ,heaven's       
angels1 to make their music easier4     
,there is dreaming enough1 and          
earthiness enough1 and sensuality enough
 in human existence without our turning 
the few glowing moments of it into      
mechanism2 and since our life must at   
the best be but a vapor that appears for
 a little time and then vanishes away1  
let it at least appear as a cloud in the

 height of ,heaven1 not as the thick    
darkness that broods over the blast of  
the ,furnace1 and rolling of the ,wheel4
     ,,chapter ,,vi4  ,,the ,,lamp ,,of 
,,memory4   ,i4 ,among the hours of his 
life to which the writer looks back with
 peculiar gratitude1 as having been     
marked by more than ordinary fulness of 
joy or clearness of teaching1 is one    
passed1 now some years ago1 near time of
 sunset1 among the broken masses of pine
 forest which skirt the course of the   
,ain1 above the village of ,champagnole1
 in the ,jura4 ,it is a spot which has  
all the solemnity1 with none of the     
savageness1 of the ,alps2 where there is
 a sense of a great power beginning to  
be manifested in the earth1 and of a    
deep and majestic concord in the rise of
 the long low lines of piny hills2 the  
first utterance of those mighty mountain
 symphonies1 soon to be more loudly     
lifted and wildly broken along the      
battlements of the ,alps4 ,but their    
strength is as yet restrained2 and the  

far-reaching ridges of pastoral mountain
 succeed each other1 like the long and  
sighing swell which moves over quiet    
waters from some far-off stormy sea4    
,and there is a deep tenderness         
pervading that vast monotony4 ,the      
destructive forces and the stern        
expression of the central ranges are    
alike withdrawn4 ,no frost-ploughed1    
dust-encumbered paths of ancient glacier
 fret the soft ,jura pastures2 no       
splintered heaps of ruin break the fair 
ranks of her forests2 no pale1 defiled1 
or furious rivers rend their rude and   
changeful ways among her rocks4         
,patiently1 eddy by eddy1 the clear     
green streams wind along their          
well-known beds2 and under the dark     
quietness of the undisturbed pines1     
there spring up1 year by year1 such     
company of joyful flowers as ,i know not
 the like of among all the blessings of 
the earth4 ,it was ,spring time1 too2   
and all were coming forth in clusters   
crowded for very love2 there was room   

enough for all1 but they crushed their  
leaves into all manner of strange shapes
 only to be nearer each other4 ,there   
was the wood anemone1 star after star1  
closing every now and then into nebulae3
 and there was the oxalis1 troop by     
troop like virginal processions of the  
,mois de ,marie1 the dark vertical      
clefts in the limestone choked up with  
them as with heavy snow1 and touched    
with ivy on the edges--ivy as light and 
lovely as the vine2 and ever and anon1 a
 blue gush of violets1 and cowslip bells
 in sunny places2 and in the more open  
ground1 the vetch1 and comfrey1 and     
mezereon1 and the small sapphire buds of
 the ,polygala ,alpina1 and the wild    
strawberry1 just a blossom or two1 all  
showered amidst the golden softness of  
deep1 warm1 amber-colored moss4 ,i came 
out presently on the edge of the ravine2
 the solemn murmur of its waters rose   
suddenly from beneath1 mixed with the   
singing of the thrushes among the pine  
boughs2 and1 on the opposite side of the

 valley1 walled all along as it was by  
grey cliffs of limestone1 there was a   
hawk sailing slowly off their brow1     
touching them nearly with his wings1 and
 with the shadows of the pines          
flickering upon his plumage from above2 
but with a fall of a hundred fathoms    
under his breast1 and the curling pools 
of the green river gliding and          
glittering dizzily beneath him1 their   
foam globes moving with him as he flew4 
,it would be difficult to conceive a    
scene less dependent upon any other     
interest than that of its own secluded  
and serious beauty2 but the writer well 
remembers the sudden blankness and chill
 which were cast upon it when he        
endeavored1 in order more strictly to   
arrive at the sources of its            
impressiveness1 to imagine it1 for a    
moment1 a scene in some aboriginal      
forest of the ,new ,continent4 ,the     
flowers in an instant lost their light1 
the river its music#ae2 the hills became
 oppressively desolate2 a heaviness in  

the boughs of the darkened forest showed
 how much of their former power had been
 dependent upon a life which was not    
theirs1 how much of the glory of the    
imperishable1 or continually renewed1   
creation is reflected from things more  
precious in their memories than it1 in  
its renewing4 ,those ever springing     
flowers and ever flowing streams had    
been dyed by the deep colors of human   
endurance1 valor1 and virtue2 and the   
crests of the sable hills that rose     
against the evening sky received a      
deeper worship1 because their far       
shadows fell eastward over the iron wall
 of ,joux and the four-square keep of   
,granson4  ,,ii4 ,it is as the          
centralisation and protectress of this  
sacred influence1 that ,architecture is 
to be regarded by us with the most      
serious thought4 ,we may live without   
her1 and worship without her1 but we    
cannot remember without her4 ,how cold  
is all history how lifeless all imagery1
 compared to that which the living      

nation writes1 and the uncorrupted      
marble bears6 how many pages of doubtful
 record might we not often spare1 for a 
few stones left one upon another6 ,the  
ambition of the old ,babel builders was 
well directed for this world3 there are 
but two strong conquerors of the        
forgetfulness of men1 ,poetry and       
,architecture2 and the latter in some   
sort includes the former1 and is        
mightier in its reality2 it is well to  
have1 not only what men have thought and
 felt1 but what their hands have        
handled1 and their strength wrought1 and
 their eyes beheld1 all the days of     
their life4 ,the age of ,homer is       
surrounded with darkness1 his very      
personality with doubt4 ,not so that of 
,pericles3 and the day is coming when we
 shall confess1 that we have learned    
more of ,greece out of the crumbled     
fragments of her sculpture than even    
from her sweet singers or soldier       
historians4 ,and if indeed there be any 
profit in our knowledge of the past1 or 

any joy in the thought of being         
remembered hereafter1 which can give    
strength to present exertion1 or        
patience to present endurance1 there are
 two duties respecting national         
architecture whose importance it is     
impossible to overrate2 the first1 to   
render the architecture of the day      
historical2 and1 the second1 to         
preserve1 as the most precious of       
inheritances1 that of past ages4  ,,iii4
 ,it is in the first of these two       
directions that ,memory may truly be    
said to be the ,sixth ,lamp of          
,architecture2 for it is in becoming    
memorial or monumental that a true      
perfection is attained by civil and     
domestic buildings2 and this partly as  
they are1 with such a view1 built in a  
more stable manner1 and partly as their 
decorations are consequently animated by
 a metaphorical or historical meaning4  
,as regards domestic buildings1 there   
must always be a certain limitation to  
views of this kind in the power1 as well

 as in the hearts1 of men2 still ,i     
cannot but think it an evil sign of a   
people when their houses are built to   
last for one generation only4 ,there is 
a sanctity in a good man's house which  
cannot be renewed in every tenement that
 rises on its ruins3 and ,i believe that
 good men would generally feel this2 and
 that having spent their lives happily  
and honorably1 they would be grieved at 
the close of them to think that the     
place of their earthly abode1 which had 
seen1 and seemed almost to sympathise in
 all their honor1 their gladness1 or    
their suffering1--that this1 with all   
the record it bare of them1 and all of  
material things that they had loved and 
ruled over1 and set the stamp of        
themselves upon--was to be swept away1  
as soon as there was room made for them 
in the grave2 that no respect was to be 
shown to it1 no affection felt for it1  
no good to be drawn from it by their    
children2 that though there was a       
monument in the church1 there was no    

warm monument in the heart and house to 
them2 that all that they ever treasured 
was despised1 and the places that had   
sheltered and comforted them were       
dragged down to the dust4 ,i say that a 
good man would fear this2 and that1 far 
more1 a good son1 a noble descendant1   
would fear doing it to his father's     
house4 ,i say that if men lived like men
 indeed1 their houses would be          
temples--temples which we should hardly 
dare to injure1 and in which it would   
make us holy to be permitted to live2   
and there must be a strange dissolution 
of natural affection1 a strange         
unthankfulness for all that homes have  
given and parents taught1 a strange     
consciousness that we have been         
unfaithful to our fathers' honor1 or    
that our own lives are not such as would
 make our dwellings sacred to our       
children1 when each man would fain build
 to himself1 and build for the little   
revolution of his own life only4 ,and ,i
 look upon those pitiful concretions of 

lime and clay which spring up in        
mildewed forwardness out of the kneaded 
fields about our capital--upon those    
thin1 tottering1 foundationless shells  
of splintered wood and imitated         
stone--upon those gloomy rows of        
formalised minuteness1 alike without    
difference and without fellowship1 as   
solitary as similar--not merely with the
 careless disgust of an offended eye1   
not merely with sorrow for a desecrated 
landscape1 but with a painful foreboding
 that the roots of our national         
greatness must be deeply cankered when  
they are thus loosely struck in their   
native ground2 that those comfortless   
and unhonored dwellings are the signs of
 a great and spreading spirit of popular
 discontent2 that they mark the time    
when every man's aim is to be in some   
more elevated sphere than his natural   
one1 and every man's past life is his   
habitual scorn2 when men build in the   
hope of leaving the places they have    
built1 and live in the hope of          

forgetting the years that they have     
lived2 when the comfort1 the peace1 the 
religion of home have ceased to be felt2
 and the crowded tenements of a         
struggling and restless population      
differ only from the tents of the ,arab 
or the ,gipsy by their less healthy     
openness to the air of heaven1 and less 
happy choice of their spot of earth2 by 
their sacrifice of liberty without the  
gain of rest1 and of stability without  
the luxury of change4  ,,iv4 ,this is no
 slight1 no consequenceless evil3 it is 
ominous1 infectious1 and fecund of other
 fault and misfortune4 ,when men do not 
love their hearths1 nor reverence their 
thresholds1 it is a sign that they have 
dishonored both1 and that they have     
never acknowledged the true universality
 of that ,christian worship which was   
indeed to supersede the idolatry1 but   
not the piety1 of the pagan4 ,our ,god  
is a household ,god1 as well as a       
heavenly one2 ,he has an altar in every 
man's dwelling2 let men look to it when 

they rend it lightly and pour out its   
ashes4 ,it is not a question of mere    
ocular delight1 it is no question of    
intellectual pride1 or of cultivated and
 critical fancy1 how1 and with what     
aspect of durability and of             
completeness1 the domestic buildings of 
a nation shall be raised4 ,it is one of 
those moral duties1 not with more       
impunity to be neglected because the    
perception of them depends on a finely  
toned and balanced conscientiousness1 to
 build our dwellings with care1 and     
patience1 and fondness1 and diligent    
completion1 and with a view to their    
duration at least for such a period as1 
in the ordinary course of national      
revolutions1 might be supposed likely to
 extend to the entire alteration of the 
direction of local interests4 ,this at  
the least2 but it would be better if1 in
 every possible instance1 men built     
their own houses on a scale commensurate
 rather with their condition at the     
commencement1 than their attainments at 

the termination1 of their worldly       
career2 and built them to stand as long 
as human work at its strongest can be   
hoped to stand2 recording to their      
children what they have been1 and from  
what1 if so it had been permitted them1 
they had risen4 ,and when houses are    
thus built1 we may have that true       
domestic architecture1 the beginning of 
all other1 which does not disdain to    
treat with respect and thoughtfulness   
the small habitation as well as the     
large1 and which invests with the       
dignity of contented manhood the        
narrowness of worldly circumstance4  ,v4
 ,i look to this spirit of honorable1   
proud1 peaceful self-possession1 this   
abiding wisdom of contented life1 as    
probably one of the chief sources of    
great intellectual power in all ages1   
and beyond dispute as the very primal   
source of the great architecture of old 
,italy and ,france4 ,to this day1 the   
interest of their fairest cities        
depends1 not on the isolated richness of

 palaces1 but on the cherished and      
exquisite decoration of even the        
smallest tenements of their proud       
periods4 ,the most elaborate piece of   
architecture in ,venice is a small house
 at the head of the ,grand ,canal1      
consisting of a ground floor with two   
stories above1 three windows in the     
first1 and two in the second4 ,many of  
the most exquisite buildings are on the 
narrower canals1 and of no larger       
dimensions4 ,one of the most interesting
 pieces of fifteenth century            
architecture in ,north ,italy1 is a     
small house in a back street1 behind the
 market-place of ,vicenza2 it bears date
 #adha1 and the motto1 ,il4 n'est4 rose4
 sans4 epine2 it has also only a ground 
floor and two stories1 with three       
windows in each1 separated by rich      
flower-work1 and with balconies1        
supported1 the central one by an eagle  
with open wings1 the lateral ones by    
winged griffins standing on cornucopiae4
 ,the idea that a house must be large in

 order to be well built1 is altogether  
of modern growth1 and is parallel with  
the idea1 that no picture can be        
historical1 except of a size admitting  
figures larger than life4  ,,vi4 ,i     
would have1 then1 our ordinary          
dwelling-houses built to last1 and built
 to be lovely2 as rich and full of      
pleasantness as may be1 within and      
without2 with what degree of likeness to
 each other in style and manner1 ,i will
 say presently1 under another head2 but1
 at all events1 with such differences as
 might suit and express each man's      
character and occupation1 and partly his
 history4 ,this right over the house1 ,i
 conceive1 belongs to its first builder1
 and is to be respected by his children2
 and it would be well that blank stones 
should be left in places1 to be         
inscribed with a summary of his life and
 of its experience1 raising thus the    
habitation into a kind of monument1 and 
developing1 into more systematic        
instructiveness1 that good custom which 

was of old universal1 and which still   
remains among some of the ,swiss and    
,germans1 of acknowledging the grace of 
,god's permission to build and possess a
 quiet resting-place1 in such sweet     
words as may well close our speaking of 
these things4 ,i have taken them from   
the front of a cottage lately built     
among the green pastures which descend  
from the village of ,grindelwald to the 
lower glacier3--    ,mit herzlichem     
,vertrauen   ,hat ,johannes ,mooter und 
,maria ,rubi   ,dieses ,haus bauen      
lassen4   ,der liebe ,gott woll uns     
bewahren   ,vor allem ,unglueck und     
,gefahren1   ,und es in ,segen lassen   
stehn   ,auf der ,reise durch diese     
,jammerzeit   ,nach dem himmlischen     
,paradiese1   ,wo alle ,frommen wohnen1 
,da wird ,gott sie belohnen   ,mit der  
,friedenskrone       ,zu alle ,ewigkeit4
  ,,vii4 ,in public buildings the       
historical purpose should be still more 
definite4 ,it is one of the advantages  
of ,gothic architecture1--,i use the    

word ,gothic in the most extended sense 
as broadly opposed to classical1--that  
it admits of a richness of record       
altogether unlimited4 ,its minute and   
multitudinous sculptural decorations    
afford means of expressing1 either      
symbolically or literally1 all that need
 be known of national feeling or        
achievement4 ,more decoration will1     
indeed1 be usually required than can    
take so elevated a character2 and much1 
even in the most thoughtful periods1 has
 been left to the freedom of fancy1 or  
suffered to consist of mere repetitions 
of some national bearing or symbol4 ,it 
is1 however1 generally unwise1 even in  
mere surface ornament1 to surrender the 
power and privilege of variety which the
 spirit of ,gothic architecture admits2 
much more in important                  
features--capitals of columns or bosses1
 and string-courses1 as of course in all
 confessed bas-reliefs4 ,better the     
rudest work that tells a story or       
records a fact1 than the richest without

 meaning4 ,there should not be a single 
ornament put upon great civic buildings1
 without some intellectual intention4   
,actual representation of history has in
 modern times been checked by a         
difficulty1 mean indeed1 but steadfast3 
that of unmanageable costume2           
nevertheless1 by a sufficiently bold    
imaginative treatment1 and frank use of 
symbols1 all such obstacles may be      
vanquished2 not perhaps in the degree   
necessary to produce sculpture in itself
 satisfactory1 but at all events so as  
to enable it to become a grand and      
expressive element of architectural     
composition4 ,take1 for example1 the    
management of the capitals of the ducal 
palace at ,venice4 ,history1 as such1   
was indeed entrusted to the painters of 
its interior1 but every capital of its  
arcades was filled with meaning4 ,the   
large one1 the corner stone of the      
whole1 next the entrance1 was devoted to
 the symbolisation of ,abstract         
,justice2 above it is a sculpture of the

 ,judgment of ,solomon1 remarkable for a
 beautiful subjection in its treatment  
to its decorative purpose4 ,the figures1
 if the subject had been entirely       
composed of them1 would have awkwardly  
interrupted the line of the angle1 and  
diminished its apparent strength2 and   
therefore in the midst of them1 entirely
 without relation to them1 and indeed   
actually between the executioner and    
interceding mother1 there rises the     
ribbed trunk of a massy tree1 which     
supports and continues the shaft of the 
angle1 and whose leaves above overshadow
 and enrich the whole4 ,the capital     
below bears among its leafage a throned 
figure of ,justice1 ,trajan doing       
justice to the widow1 ,aristotle che die
 legge1 and one or two other subjects   
now unintelligible from decay4 ,the     
capitals next in order represent the    
virtues and vices in succession1 as     
preservative or destructive of national 
peace and power1 concluding with ,faith1
 with the inscription ,fides optima in  

,deo est4 ,a figure is seen on the      
opposite side of the capital1           
worshipping the sun4 ,after these1 one  
or two capitals are fancifully decorated
 with birds 7,plate ,v471 and then come 
a series representing1 first the various
 fruits1 then the national costumes1 and
 then the animals of the various        
countries subject to ,venetian rule4    
,,viii4 ,now1 not to speak of any more  
important public building1 let us       
imagine our own ,india ,house adorned in
 this way1 by historical or symbolical  
sculpture3 massively built in the first 
place2 then chased with bas-reliefs of  
our ,indian battles1 and fretted with   
carvings of ,oriental foliage1 or inlaid
 with ,oriental stones2 and the more    
important members of its decoration     
composed of groups of ,indian life and  
landscape1 and prominently expressing   
the phantasms of ,hindoo worship in     
their subjection to the ,cross4 ,would  
not one such work be better than a      
thousand histories8 ,if1 however1 we    

have not the invention necessary for    
such efforts1 or if1 which is probably  
one of the most noble excuses we can    
offer for our deficiency in such        
matters1 we have less pleasure in       
talking about ourselves1 even in marble1
 than the ,continental nations1 at least
 we have no excuse for any want of care 
in the points which insure the          
building's endurance4 ,and as this      
question is one of great interest in its
 relations to the choice of various     
modes of decoration1 it will be         
necessary to enter into it at some      
length4  ,,ix4 ,the benevolent regards  
and purposes of men in masses seldom can
 be supposed to extend beyond their own 
generation4 ,they may look to posterity 
as an audience1 may hope for its        
attention1 and labor for its praise3    
they may trust to its recognition of    
unacknowledged merit1 and demand its    
justice for contemporary wrong4 ,but all
 this is mere selfishness1 and does not 
involve the slightest regard to1 or     

consideration of1 the interest of those 
by whose numbers we would fain swell the
 circle of our flatterers1 and by whose 
authority we would gladly support our   
presently disputed claims4 ,the idea of 
self-denial for the sake of posterity1  
of practising present economy for the   
sake of debtors yet unborn1 of planting 
forests that our descendants may live   
under their shade1 or of raising cities 
for future nations to inhabit1 never1 ,i
 suppose1 efficiently takes place among 
publicly recognised motives of exertion4
 ,yet these are not the less our duties2
 nor is our part fitly sustained upon   
the earth1 unless the range of our      
intended and deliberate usefulness      
include not only the companions1 but the
 successors1 of our pilgrimage4 ,god has
 lent us the earth for our life2 it is a
 great entail4 ,it belongs as much to   
those who are to come after us1 and     
whose names are already written in the  
book of creation1 as to us2 and we have 
no right1 by anything that we do or     

neglect1 to involve them in unnecessary 
penalties1 or deprive them of benefits  
which it was in our power to bequeath4  
,and this the more1 because it is one of
 the appointed conditions of the labor  
of men that1 in proportion to the time  
between the seed-sowing and the harvest1
 is the fulness of the fruit2 and that  
generally1 therefore1 the farther off we
 place our aim1 and the less we desire  
to be ourselves the witnesses of what we
 have labored for1 the more wide and    
rich will be the measure of our success4
 ,men cannot benefit those that are with
 them as they can benefit those who come
 after them2 and of all the pulpits from
 which human voice is ever sent forth1  
there is none from which it reaches so  
far as from the grave4  ,x4 ,nor is     
there1 indeed1 any present loss1 in such
 respect1 for futurity4 ,every human    
action gains in honor1 in grace1 in all 
true magnificence1 by its regard to     
things that are to come4 ,it is the far 
sight1 the quiet and confident patience1

 that1 above all other attributes1      
separate man from man1 and near him to  
his ,maker2 and there is no action nor  
art1 whose majesty we may not measure by
 this test4 ,therefore1 when we build1  
let us think that we build for ever4    
,let it not be for present delight1 nor 
for present use alone2 let it be such   
work as our descendants will thank us   
for1 and let us think1 as we lay stone  
on stone1 that a time is to come when   
those stones will be held sacred because
 our hands have touched them1 and that  
men will say as they look upon the labor
 and wrought substance of them1 ,see6   
this our fathers did for us4 ,for1      
indeed1 the greatest glory of a building
 is not in its stones1 or in its gold4  
,its glory is in its ,age1 and in that  
deep sense of voicefulness1 of stern    
watching1 of mysterious sympathy1 nay1  
even of approval or condemnation1 which 
we feel in walls that have long been    
washed by the passing waves of humanity4
 ,it is in their lasting witness against

 men1 in their quiet contrast with the  
transitional character of all things1 in
 the strength which1 through the lapse  
of seasons and times1 and the decline   
and birth of dynasties1 and the changing
 of the face of the earth1 and of the   
limits of the sea1 maintains its        
sculptured shapeliness for a time       
insuperable1 connects forgotten and     
following ages with each other1 and half
 constitutes the identity1 as it        
concentrates the sympathy1 of nations2  
it is in that golden stain of time1 that
 we are to look for the real light1 and 
color1 and preciousness of architecture2
 and it is not until a building has     
assumed this character1 till it has been
 entrusted with the fame1 and hallowed  
by the deeds of men1 till its walls have
 been witnesses of suffering1 and its   
pillars rise out of the shadows of      
death1 that its existence1 more lasting 
as it is than that of the natural       
objects of the world around it1 can be  
gifted with even so much as these       

possess of language and of life4  ,,xi4 
,for that period1 then1 we must build2  
not1 indeed1 refusing to ourselves the  
delight of present completion1 nor      
hesitating to follow such portions of   
character as may depend upon delicacy of
 execution to the highest perfection of 
which they are capable1 even although we
 may know that in the course of years   
such details must perish2 but taking    
care that for work of this kind we      
sacrifice no enduring quality1 and that 
the building shall not depend for its   
impressiveness upon anything that is    
perishable4 ,this would1 indeed1 be the 
law of good composition under any       
circumstances1 the arrangement of the   
larger masses being always a matter of  
greater importance than the treatment of
 the smaller2 but in architecture there 
is much in that very treatment which is 
skilful or otherwise in proportion to   
its just regard to the probable effects 
of time3 and 7which is still more to be 
considered7 there is a beauty in those  

effects themselves1 which nothing else  
can replace1 and which it is our wisdom 
to consult and to desire4 ,for though1  
hitherto1 we have been speaking of the  
sentiment of age only1 there is an      
actual beauty in the marks of it1 such  
and so great as to have become not      
unfrequently the subject of especial    
choice among certain schools of art1 and
 to have impressed upon those schools   
the character usually and loosely       
expressed by the term picturesque4 ,it  
is of some importance to our present    
purpose to determine the true meaning of
 this expression1 as it is now generally
 used2 for there is a principle to be   
developed from that use which1 while it 
has occultly been the ground of much    
that is true and just in our judgment of
 art1 has never been so far understood  
as to become definitely serviceable4    
,probably no word in the language       
7exclusive of theological expressions71 
has been the subject of so frequent or  
so prolonged dispute2 yet none remained 

more vague in their acceptance1 and it  
seems to me to be a matter of no small  
interest to investigate the essence of  
that idea which all feel1 and 7to       
appearance7 with respect to similar     
things1 and yet which every attempt to  
define has1 as ,i believe1 ended either 
in mere enumeration of the effects and  
objects to which the term has been      
attached1 or else in attempts at        
abstraction more palpably nugatory than 
any which have disgraced metaphysical   
investigation on other subjects4 ,a     
recent critic on ,art1 for instance1 has
 gravely advanced the theory that the   
essence of the picturesque consists in  
the expression of universal decay4 ,it  
would be curious to see the result of an
 attempt to illustrate this idea of the 
picturesque1 in a painting of dead      
flowers and decayed fruit1 and equally  
curious to trace the steps of any       
reasoning which1 on such a theory1      
should account for the picturesqueness  
of an ass colt as opposed to a horse    

foal4 ,but there is much excuse for even
 the most utter failure in reasonings of
 this kind1 since the subject is1       
indeed1 one of the most obscure of all  
that may legitimately be submitted to   
human reason2 and the idea is itself so 
varied in the minds of different men1   
according to their subjects of study1   
that no definition can be expected to   
embrace more than a certain number of   
its infinitely multiplied forms4  ,,xii4
 ,that peculiar character1 however1     
which separates the picturesque from the
 characters of subject belonging to the 
higher walks of art 7and this is all    
that is necessary for our present       
purpose to define71 may be shortly and  
decisively expressed4 ,picturesqueness1 
in this sense1 is ,parasitical          
,sublimity4 ,of course all sublimity1 as
 well as all beauty1 is1 in the simple  
etymological sense1 picturesque1 that is
 to say1 fit to become the subject of a 
picture2 and all sublimity is1 even in  
the peculiar sense which ,i am          

endeavoring to develope1 picturesque1 as
 opposed to beauty2 that is to say1     
there is more picturesqueness in the    
subject of ,michael ,angelo than of     
,perugino1 in proportion to the         
prevalence of the sublime element over  
the beautiful4 ,but that character1 of  
which the extreme pursuit is generally  
admitted to be degrading to art1 is     
parasitical sublimity2 i4e41 a sublimity
 dependent on the accidents1 or on the  
least essential characters1 of the      
objects to which it belongs2 and the    
picturesque is developed distinctively  
exactly in proportion to the distance   
from the centre of thought of those     
points of character in which the        
sublimity is found4 ,two ideas1         
therefore1 are essential to             
picturesqueness1--the first1 that of    
sublimity 7for pure beauty is not       
picturesque at all1 and becomes so only 
as the sublime element mixes with it71  
and the second1 the subordinate or      
parasitical position of that sublimity4 

,of course1 therefore1 whatever         
characters of line or shade or          
expression are productive of sublimity1 
will become productive of               
picturesqueness2 what these characters  
are ,i shall endeavor hereafter to show 
at length2 but1 among those which are   
generally acknowledged1 ,i may name     
angular and broken lines1 vigorous      
oppositions of light and shadow1 and    
grave1 deep1 or boldly contrasted color2
 and all these are in a still higher    
degree effective1 when1 by resemblance  
or association1 they remind us of       
objects on which a true and essential   
sublimity exists1 as of rocks or        
mountains1 or stormy clouds or waves4   
,now if these characters1 or any others 
of a higher and more abstract sublimity1
 be found in the very heart and         
substance of what we contemplate1 as the
 sublimity of ,michael ,angelo depends  
on the expression of mental character in
 his figures far more than even on the  
noble lines of their arrangement1 the   

art which represents such characters    
cannot be properly called picturesque3  
but1 if they be found in the accidental 
or external qualities1 the distinctive  
picturesque will be the result4  ,,xiii4
 ,thus1 in the treatment of the features
 of the human face by ,francia or       
,angelico1 the shadows are employed only
 to make the contours of the features   
thoroughly felt2 and to those features  
themselves the mind of the observer is  
exclusively directed 7that is to say1 to
 the essential characters of the thing  
represented74 ,all power and all        
sublimity rest on these2 the shadows are
 used only for the sake of the features4
 ,on the contrary1 by ,rembrandt1       
,salvator1 or ,caravaggio1 the features 
are used for the sake of the shadows2   
and the attention is directed1 and the  
power of the painter addressed to       
characters of accidental light and shade
 cast across or around those features4  
,in the case of ,rembrandt there is     
often an essential sublimity in         

invention and expression besides1 and   
always a high degree of it in the light 
and shade itself2 but it is for the most
 part parasitical or engrafted sublimity
 as regards the subject of the painting1
 and1 just so far1 picturesque4  ,,xiv4 
,again1 in the management of the        
sculptures of the ,parthenon1 shadow is 
frequently employed as a dark field on  
which the forms are drawn4 ,this is     
visibly the case in the metopes1 and    
must have been nearly as much so in the 
pediment4 ,but the use of that shadow is
 entirely to show the confines of the   
figures2 and it is to their lines1 and  
not to the shapes of the shadows behind 
them1 that the art and the eye are      
addressed4 ,the figures themselves are  
conceived as much as possible in full   
light1 aided by bright reflections2 they
 are drawn exactly as1 on vases1 white  
figures on a dark ground3 and the       
sculptors have dispensed with1 or even  
struggled to avoid1 all shadows which   
were not absolutely necessary to the    

explaining of the form4 ,on the         
contrary1 in ,gothic sculpture1 the     
shadow becomes itself a subject of      
thought4 ,it is considered as a dark    
color1 to be arranged in certain        
agreeable masses2 the figures are very  
frequently made even subordinate to the 
placing of its divisions3 and their     
costume is enriched at the expense of   
the forms underneath1 in order to       
increase the complexity and variety of  
the points of shade4 ,there are thus1   
both in sculpture and painting1 two1 in 
some sort1 opposite schools1 of which   
the one follows for its subject the     
essential forms of things1 and the other
 the accidental lights and shades upon  
them4 ,there are various degrees of     
their contrariety3 middle steps1 as in  
the works of ,correggio1 and all degrees
 of nobility and of degradation in the  
several manners3 but the one is always  
recognised as the pure1 and the other as
 the picturesque school4 ,portions of   
picturesque treatment will be found in  

,greek work1 and of pure and            
unpicturesque in ,gothic2 and in both   
there are countless instances1 as       
pre-eminently in the works of ,michael  
,angelo1 in which shadows become        
valuable as media of expression1 and    
therefore take rank among essential     
characteristics4 ,into these            
multitudinous distinctions and          
exceptions ,i cannot now enter1 desiring
 only to prove the broad applicability  
of the general definition4  ,,xv4       
,again1 the distinction will be found to
 exist1 not only between forms and      
shades as subjects of choice1 but       
between essential and inessential forms4
 ,one of the chief distinctions between 
the dramatic and picturesque schools of 
sculpture is found in the treatment of  
the hair4 ,by the artists of the time of
 ,pericles it was considered as an      
excrescence1#af indicated by few and    
rude lines1 and subordinated in every   
particular to the principality of the   
features and person4 ,how completely    

this was an artistical1 not a national  
idea1 it is unnecessary to prove4 ,we   
need but remember the employment of the 
,lacedaemonians1 reported by the        
,persian spy on the evening before the  
battle of ,thermopylae1 or glance at any
 ,homeric description of ideal form1 to 
see how purely sculpturesque was the law
 which reduced the markings of the hair1
 lest1 under the necessary disadvantages
 of material1 they should interfere with
 the distinctness of the personal forms4
 ,on the contrary1 in later sculpture1  
the hair receives almost the principal  
care of the workman2 and while the      
features and limbs are clumsily and     
bluntly executed1 the hair is curled and
 twisted1 cut into bold and shadowy     
projections1 and arranged in masses     
elaborately ornamental3 there is true   
sublimity in the lines and the          
chiaroscuro of these masses1 but it is1 
as regards the creature represented1    
parasitical1 and therefore picturesque4 
,in the same sense we may understand the

 application of the term to modern      
animal painting1 distinguished as it has
 been by peculiar attention to the      
colors1 lustre1 and texture of skin2 nor
 is it in art alone that the definition 
will hold4 ,in animals themselves1 when 
their sublimity depends upon their      
muscular forms or motions1 or necessary 
and principal attributes1 as perhaps    
more than all others in the horse1 we do
 not call them picturesque1 but consider
 them as peculiarly fit to be associated
 with pure historical subject4 ,exactly 
in proportion as their character of     
sublimity passes into                   
excrescences2--into mane and beard as in
 the lion1 into horns as in the stag1   
into shaggy hide as in the instance     
above given of the ass colt1 into       
variegation as in the zebra1 or into    
plumage1--they become picturesque1 and  
are so in art exactly in proportion to  
the prominence of these excrescential   
characters4 ,it may often be most       
expedient that they should be prominent2

 often there is in them the highest     
degree of majesty1 as in those of the   
leopard and boar2 and in the hands of   
men like ,tintoret and ,rubens1 such    
attributes become means of deepening the
 very highest and most ideal            
impressions4 ,but the picturesque       
direction of their thoughts is always   
distinctly recognizable1 as clinging to 
the surface1 to the less essential      
character1 and as developing out of this
 a sublimity different from that of the 
creature itself2 a sublimity which is1  
in a sort1 common to all the objects of 
creation1 and the same in its           
constituent elements1 whether it be     
sought in the clefts and folds of shaggy
 hair1 or in the chasms and rents of    
rocks1 or in the hanging of thickets or 
hill sides1 or in the alternations of   
gaiety and gloom in the variegation of  
the shell1 the plume1 or the cloud4     
,,xvi4 ,now1 to return to our immediate 
subject1 it so happens that1 in         
architecture1 the superinduced and      

accidental beauty is most commonly      
inconsistent with the preservation of   
original character1 and the picturesque 
is therefore sought in ruin1 and        
supposed to consist in decay4 ,whereas1 
even when so sought1 it consists in the 
mere sublimity of the rents1 or         
fractures1 or stains1 or vegetation1    
which assimilate the architecture with  
the work of ,nature1 and bestow upon it 
those circumstances of color and form   
which are universally beloved by the eye
 of man4 ,so far as this is done1 to the
 extinction of the true characters of   
the architecture1 it is picturesque1 and
 the artist who looks to the stem of the
 ivy instead of the shaft of the pillar1
 is carrying out in more daring freedom 
the debased sculptor's choice of the    
hair instead of the countenance4 ,but so
 far as it can be rendered consistent   
with the inherent character1 the        
picturesque or extraneous sublimity of  
architecture has just this of nobler    
function in it than that of any other   

object whatsoever1 that it is an        
exponent of age1 of that in which1 as   
has been said1 the greatest glory of a  
building consists2 and1 therefore1 the  
external signs of this glory1 having    
power and purpose greater than any      
belonging to their mere sensible beauty1
 may be considered as taking rank among 
pure and essential character2 so        
essential to my mind1 that ,i think a   
building cannot be considered as in its 
prime until four or five centuries have 
passed over it2 and that the entire     
choice and arrangement of its details   
should have reference to their          
appearance after that period1 so that   
none should be admitted which would     
suffer material injury either by the    
weather-staining1 or the mechanical     
degradation which the lapse of such a   
period would necessitate4  ,,xvii4 ,it  
is not my purpose to enter into any of  
the questions which the application of  
this principle involves4 ,they are of   
too great interest and complexity to be 

even touched upon within my present     
limits1 but this is broadly to be       
noticed1 that those styles of           
architecture which are picturesque in   
the sense above explained with respect  
to sculpture1 that is to say1 whose     
decoration depends on the arrangement of
 points of shade rather than on purity  
of outline1 do not suffer1 but commonly 
gain in richness of effect when their   
details are partly worn away2 hence such
 styles1 pre-eminently that of ,french  
,gothic1 should always be adopted when  
the materials to be employed are liable 
to degradation1 as brick1 sandstone1 or 
soft limestone2 and styles in any degree
 dependent on purity of line1 as the    
,italian ,gothic1 must be practised     
altogether in hard and undecomposing    
materials1 granite serpentine1 or       
crystalline marbles4 ,there can be no   
doubt that the nature of the accessible 
materials influenced the formation of   
both styles2 and it should still more   
authoritatively determine our choice of 

either4  ,,xviii4 ,it does not belong to
 my present plan to consider at length  
the second head of duty of which ,i have
 above spoken2 the preservation of the  
architecture we possess3 but a few words
 may be forgiven1 as especially         
necessary in modern times4 ,neither by  
the public1 nor by those who have the   
care of public monuments1 is the true   
meaning of the word restoration         
understood4 ,it means the most total    
destruction which a building can suffer3
 a destruction out of which no remnants 
can be gathered2 a destruction          
accompanied with false description of   
the thing destroyed4 ,do not let us     
deceive ourselves in this important     
matter2 it is impossible1 as impossible 
as to raise the dead1 to restore        
anything that has ever been great or    
beautiful in architecture4 ,that which  
,i have above insisted upon as the life 
of the whole1 that spirit which is given
 only by the hand and eye of the        
workman1 never can be recalled4 ,another

 spirit may be given by another time1   
and it is then a new building2 but the  
spirit of the dead workman cannot be    
summoned up1 and commanded to direct    
other hands1 and other thoughts4 ,and as
 for direct and simple copying1 it is   
palpably impossible4 ,what copying can  
there be of surfaces that have been worn
 half an inch down8 ,the whole finish of
 the work was in the half inch that is  
gone2 if you attempt to restore that    
finish1 you do it conjecturally2 if you 
copy what is left1 granting fidelity to 
be possible 7and what care1 or          
watchfulness1 or cost can secure it871  
how is the new work better than the old8
 ,there was yet in the old some life1   
some mysterious suggestion of what it   
had been1 and of what it had lost2 some 
sweetness in the gentle lines which rain
 and sun had wrought4 ,there can be none
 in the brute hardness of the new       
carving4 ,look at the animals which ,i  
have given in ,plate #ad1 as an instance
 of living work1 and suppose the        

markings of the scales and hair once    
worn away1 or the wrinkles of the brows1
 and who shall ever restore them8 ,the  
first step to restoration 7,i have seen 
it1 and that again and again1 seen it on
 the ,baptistery of ,pisa1 seen it on   
the ,casa d' ,oro at ,venice1 seen it on
 the ,cathedral of ,lisieux71 is to dash
 the old work to pieces2 the second is  
usually to put up the cheapest and      
basest imitation which can escape       
detection1 but in all cases1 however    
careful1 and however labored1 an        
imitation still1 a cold model of such   
parts as can be modelled1 with          
conjectural supplements2 and my         
experience has as yet furnished me with 
only one instance1 that of the ,palais  
de ,justice at ,rouen1 in which even    
this1 the utmost degree of fidelity     
which is possible1 has been attained or 
even attempted4  ,,xix4 ,do not let us  
talk then of restoration4 ,the thing is 
a ,lie from beginning to end4 ,you may  
make a model of a building as you may of

 a corpse1 and your model may have the  
shell of the old walls within it as your
 cast might have the skeleton1 with what
 advantage ,i neither see nor care2 but 
the old building is destroyed1 and that 
more totally and mercilessly than if it 
had sunk into a heap of dust1 or melted 
into a mass of clay3 more has been      
gleaned out of desolated ,nineveh than  
ever will be out of re-built ,milan4    
,but1 it is said1 there may come a      
necessity for restoration6 ,granted4    
,look the necessity full in the face1   
and understand it on its own terms4 ,it 
is a necessity for destruction4 ,accept 
it as such1 pull the building down1     
throw its stones into neglected corners1
 make ballast of them1 or mortar1 if you
 will2 but do it honestly1 and do not   
set up a ,lie in their place4 ,and look 
that necessity in the face before it    
comes1 and you may prevent it4 ,the     
principle of modern times 7a principle  
which ,i believe1 at least in ,france1  
to be systematically acted on by the    

masons1 in order to find themselves     
work1 as the abbey of ,st4 ,ouen was    
pulled down by the magistrates of the   
town by way of giving work to some      
vagrants17 is to neglect buildings      
first1 and restore them afterwards4     
,take proper care of your monuments1 and
 you will not need to restore them4 ,a  
few sheets of lead put in time upon the 
roof1 a few dead leaves and sticks swept
 in time out of a water-course1 will    
save both roof and walls from ruin4     
,watch an old building with an anxious  
care2 guard it as best you may1 and at  
any cost from every influence of        
dilapidation4 ,count its stones as you  
would jewels of a crown2 set watches    
about it as if at the gates of a        
besieged city2 bind it together with    
iron where it loosens2 stay it with     
timber where it declines2 do not care   
about the unsightliness of the aid2     
better a crutch than a lost limb2 and do
 this tenderly1 and reverently1 and     
continually1 and many a generation will 

still be born and pass away beneath its 
shadow4 ,its evil day must come at last2
 but let it come declaredly and openly1 
and let no dishonoring and false        
substitute deprive it of the funeral    
offices of memory4  ,,xx4 ,of more      
wanton or ignorant ravage it is vain to 
speak2 my words will not reach those who
 commit them1 and yet1 be it heard or   
not1 ,i must not leave the truth        
unstated1 that it is again no question  
of expediency or feeling whether we     
shall preserve the buildings of past    
times or not4 ,we have no right whatever
 to touch them4 ,they are not ours4     
,they belong partly to those who built  
them1 and partly to all the generations 
of mankind who are to follow us4 ,the   
dead have still their right in them3    
that which they labored for1 the praise 
of achievement or the expression of     
religious feeling1 or whatsoever else it
 might be which in those buildings they 
intended to be permanent1 we have no    
right to obliterate4 ,what we have      

ourselves built1 we are at liberty to   
throw down2 but what other men gave     
their strength1 and wealth1 and life to 
accomplish1 their right over does not   
pass away with their death2 still less  
is the right to the use of what they    
have left vested in us only4 ,it belongs
 to all their successors4 ,it may       
hereafter be a subject of sorrow1 or a  
cause of injury1 to millions1 that we   
have consulted our present convenience  
by casting down such buildings as we    
choose to dispense with4 ,that sorrow1  
that loss we have no right to inflict4  
,did the cathedral of ,avranches belong 
to the mob who destroyed it1 any more   
than it did to us1 who walk in sorrow to
 and fro over its foundation8 ,neither  
does any building whatever belong to    
those mobs who do violence to it4 ,for a
 mob it is1 and must be always2 it      
matters not whether enraged1 or in      
deliberate folly2 whether countless1 or 
sitting in committees2 the people who   
destroy anything causelessly are a mob1 

and ,architecture is always destroyed   
causelessly4 ,a fair building is        
necessarily worth the ground it stands  
upon1 and will be so until central      
,africa and ,america shall have become  
as populous as ,middlesex2 nor is any   
cause whatever valid as a ground for its
 destruction4 ,if ever valid1 certainly 
not now when the place both of the past 
and future is too much usurped in our   
minds by the restless and discontented  
present4 ,the very quietness of nature  
is gradually withdrawn from us2         
thousands who once in their necessarily 
prolonged travel were subjected to an   
influence1 from the silent sky and      
slumbering fields1 more effectual than  
known or confessed1 now bear with them  
even there the ceaseless fever of their 
life2 and along the iron veins that     
traverse the frame of our country1 beat 
and flow the fiery pulses of its        
exertions1 hotter and faster every hour4
 ,all vitality is concentrated through  
those throbbing arteries into the       

central cities2 the country is passed   
over like a green sea by narrow bridges1
 and we are thrown back in continually  
closer crowds upon the city gates4 ,the 
only influence which can in any wise    
there take the place of that of the     
woods and fields1 is the power of       
ancient ,architecture4 ,do not part with
 it for the sake of the formal square1  
or of the fenced and planted walk1 nor  
of the goodly street nor opened quay4   
,the pride of a city is not in these4   
,leave them to the crowd2 but remember  
that there will surely be some within   
the circuit of the disquieted walls who 
would ask for some other spots than     
these wherein to walk2 for some other   
forms to meet their sight familiarly3   
like him who sat so often where the sun 
struck from the west1 to watch the lines
 of the dome of ,florence drawn on the  
deep sky1 or like those1 his ,hosts1 who
 could bear daily to behold1 from their 
palace chambers1 the places where their 
fathers lay at rest1 at the meeting of  

the dark streets of ,verona4            
,,chapter ,,vii4  ,,the ,,lamp ,,of     
,,obedience4   ,i4 ,it has been my      
endeavor to show in the preceding pages 
how every form of noble architecture is 
in some sort the embodiment of the      
,polity1 ,life1 ,history1 and ,religious
 ,faith of nations4 ,once or twice in   
doing this1 ,i have named a principle to
 which ,i would now assign a definite   
place among those which direct that     
embodiment2 the last place1 not only as 
that to which its own humility would    
incline1 but rather as belonging to it  
in the aspect of the crowning grace of  
all the rest2 that principle1 ,i mean1  
to which ,polity owes its stability1    
,life its happiness1 ,faith its         
acceptance1 ,creation its               
continuance1--,obedience4  ,nor is it   
the least among the sources of more     
serious satisfaction which ,i have found
 in the pursuit of a subject that at    
first appeared to bear but slightly on  
the grave interests of mankind1 that the

 conditions of material perfection which
 it leads me in conclusion to consider1 
furnish a strange proof how false is the
 conception1 how frantic the pursuit1 of
 that treacherous phantom which men call
 ,liberty2 most treacherous1 indeed1 of 
all phantoms2 for the feeblest ray of   
reason might surely show us1 that not   
only its attainment1 but its being1 was 
impossible4 ,there is no such thing in  
the universe4 ,there can never be4 ,the 
stars have it not2 the earth has it not2
 the sea has it not2 and we men have the
 mockery and semblance of it only for   
our heaviest punishment4  ,in one of the
 noblest poems#ag for its imagery and   
its music belonging to the recent school
 of our literature1 the writer has      
sought in the aspect of inanimate nature
 the expression of that ,liberty which1 
having once loved1 he had seen among men
 in its true dyes of darkness4 ,but with
 what strange fallacy of interpretation6
 since in one noble line of his         
invocation he has contradicted the      

assumptions of the rest1 and            
acknowledged the presence of a          
subjection1 surely not less severe      
because eternal8 ,how could he          
otherwise8 since if there be any one    
principle more widely than another      
confessed by every utterance1 or more   
sternly than another imprinted on every 
atom1 of the visible creation1 that     
principle is not ,liberty1 but ,law4    
,,ii4 ,the enthusiast would reply that  
by ,liberty he meant the ,law of        
,liberty4 ,then why use the single and  
misunderstood word8 ,if by liberty you  
mean chastisement of the passions1      
discipline of the intellect1 subjection 
of the will2 if you mean the fear of    
inflicting1 the shame of committing a   
wrong2 if you mean respect for all who  
are in authority1 and consideration for 
all who are in dependence2 veneration   
for the good1 mercy to the evil1        
sympathy with the weak2 if you mean     
watchfulness over all thoughts1         
temperance in all pleasures1 and        

perseverance in all toils2 if you mean1 
in a word1 that ,service which is       
defined in the liturgy of the ,english  
church to be perfect ,freedom1 why do   
you name this by the same word by which 
the luxurious mean license1 and the     
reckless mean change2 by which the rogue
 means rapine1 and the fool equality1 by
 which the proud mean anarchy1 and the  
malignant mean violence8 ,call it by any
 name rather than this1 but its best and
 truest is1 ,obedience4 ,obedience is1  
indeed1 founded on a kind of freedom1   
else its would become mere subjugation1 
but that freedom is only granted that   
obedience may be more perfect2 and thus1
 while a measure of license is necessary
 to exhibit the individual energies of  
things1 the fairness and pleasantness   
and perfection of them all consist in   
their ,restraint4 ,compare a river that 
has burst its banks with one that is    
bound by them1 and the clouds that are  
scattered over the face of the whole    
heaven with those that are marshalled   

into ranks and orders by its winds4 ,so 
that though restraint1 utter and        
unrelaxing1 can never be comely1 this is
 not because it is in itself an evil1   
but only because1 when too great1 it    
overpowers the nature of the thing      
restrained1 and so counteracts the other
 laws of which that nature is itself    
composed4 ,and the balance wherein      
consists the fairness of creation is    
between the laws of life and being in   
the things governed and the laws of     
general sway to which they are          
subjected2 and the suspension or        
infringement of either kind of law1 or1 
literally1 disorder1 is equivalent to1  
and synonymous with1 disease2 while the 
increase of both honor and beauty is    
habitually on the side of restraint 7or 
the action of superior law7 rather than 
of character 7or the action of inherent 
law74 ,the noblest word in the catalogue
 of social virtue is ,loyalty1 and the  
sweetest which men have learned in the  
pastures of the wilderness is ,fold4    

,,iii4 ,nor is this all2 but we may     
observe1 that exactly in proportion to  
the majesty of things in the scale of   
being1 is the completeness of their     
obedience to the laws that are set over 
them4 ,gravitation is less quietly1 less
 instantly obeyed by a grain of dust    
than it is by the sun and moon2 and the 
ocean falls and flows under influences  
which the lake and river do not         
recognize4 ,so also in estimating the   
dignity of any action or occupation of  
men1 there is perhaps no better test    
than the question are its laws strait8  
,for their severity will probably be    
commensurate with the greatness of the  
numbers whose labor it concentrates or  
whose interest it concerns4  ,this      
severity must be singular1 therefore1 in
 the case of that art1 above all others1
 whose productions are the most vast and
 the most common2 which requires for its
 practice the co-operation of bodies of 
men1 and for its perfection the         
perseverance of successive generations4 

,and taking into account also what we   
have before so often observed of        
,architecture1 her continual influence  
over the emotions of daily life1 and her
 realism1 as opposed to the two sister  
arts which are in comparison but the    
picturing of stories and of dreams1 we  
might beforehand expect that we should  
find her healthy state and action       
dependent on far more severe laws than  
theirs2 that the license which they     
extend to the workings of individual    
mind would be withdrawn by her2 and     
that1 in assertion of the relations     
which she holds with all that is        
universally important to man1 she would 
set forth1 by her own majestic          
subjection1 some likeness of that on    
which man's social happiness and power  
depend4 ,we might1 therefore1 without   
the light of experience1 conclude1 that 
,architecture never could flourish      
except when it was subjected to a       
national law as strict and as minutely  
authoritative as the laws which regulate

 religion1 policy1 and social relations2
 nay1 even more authoritative than      
these1 because both capable of more     
enforcement1 as over more passive       
matter2 and needing more enforcement1 as
 the purest type not of one law nor of  
another1 but of the common authority of 
all4 ,but in this matter experience     
speaks more loudly than reason4 ,if     
there be any one condition which1 in    
watching the progress of architecture1  
we see distinct and general2 if1 amidst 
the counter evidence of success         
attending opposite accidents of         
character and circumstance1 any one     
conclusion may be constantly and        
indisputably drawn1 it is this2 that the
 architecture of a nation is great only 
when it is as universal and as          
established as its language2 and when   
provincial differences of style are     
nothing more than so many dialects4     
,other necessities are matters of doubt3
 nations have been alike successful in  
their architecture in times of poverty  

and of wealth2 in times of war and of   
peace2 in times of barbarism and of     
refinement2 under governments the most  
liberal or the most arbitrary2 but this 
one condition has been constant1 this   
one requirement clear in all places and 
at all times1 that the work shall be    
that of a school1 that no individual    
caprice shall dispense with1 or         
materially vary1 accepted types and     
customary decorations2 and that from the
 cottage to the palace1 and from the    
chapel to the basilica1 and from the    
garden fence to the fortress wall1 every
 member and feature of the architecture 
of the nation shall be as commonly      
current1 as frankly accepted1 as its    
language or its coin4  ,,iv4 ,a day     
never passes without our hearing our    
,english architects called upon to be   
original1 and to invent a new style3    
about as sensible and necessary an      
exhortation as to ask of a man who has  
never had rags enough on his back to    
keep out cold1 to invent a new mode of  

cutting a coat4 ,give him a whole coat  
first1 and let him concern himself about
 the fashion of it afterwards4 ,we want 
no new style of architecture4 ,who wants
 a new style of painting or sculpture8  
,but we want some style4 ,it is of      
marvellously little importance1 if we   
have a code of laws and they be good    
laws1 whether they be new or old1       
foreign or native1 ,roman or ,saxon1 or 
,norman or ,english laws4 ,but it is of 
considerable importance that we should  
have a code of laws of one kind or      
another1 and that code accepted and     
enforced from one side of the island to 
another1 and not one law made ground of 
judgment at ,york and another in        
,exeter4 ,and in like manner it does not
 matter one marble splinter whether we  
have an old or new architecture1 but it 
matters everything whether we have an   
architecture truly so called or not2    
that is1 whether an architecture whose  
laws might be taught at our schools from
 ,cornwall to ,northumberland1 as we    

teach ,english spelling and ,english    
grammar1 or an architecture which is to 
be invented fresh every time we build a 
workhouse or a parish school4 ,there    
seems to me to be a wonderful           
misunderstanding among the majority of  
architects at the present day as to the 
very nature and meaning of ,originality1
 and of all wherein it consists4        
,originality in expression does not     
depend on invention of new words2 nor   
originality in poetry on invention of   
new measures2 nor1 in painting1 on      
invention of new colors1 or new modes of
 using them4 ,the chords of music1 the  
harmonies of color1 the general         
principles of the arrangement of        
sculptural masses1 have been determined 
long ago1 and1 in all probability1      
cannot be added to any more than they   
can be altered4 ,granting that they may 
be1 such additions or alterations are   
much more the work of time and of       
multitudes than of individual inventors4
 ,we may have one ,van ,eyck1 who will  

be known as the introducer of a new     
style once in ten centuries1 but he     
himself will trace his invention to some
 accidental bye-play or pursuit2 and the
 use of that invention will depend      
altogether on the popular necessities or
 instincts of the period4 ,originality  
depends on nothing of the kind4 ,a man  
who has the gift1 will take up any style
 that is going1 the style of his day1   
and will work in that1 and be great in  
that1 and make everything that he does  
in it look as fresh as if every thought 
of it had just come down from heaven4 ,i
 do not say that he will not take       
liberties with his materials1 or with   
his rules3 ,i do not say that strange   
changes will not sometimes be wrought by
 his efforts1 or his fancies1 in both4  
,but those changes will be instructive1 
natural1 facile1 though sometimes       
marvellous2 they will never be sought   
after as things necessary to his dignity
 or to his independence2 and those      
liberties will be like the liberties    

that a great speaker takes with the     
language1 not a defiance of its rules   
for the sake of singularity2 but        
inevitable1 uncalculated1 and brilliant 
consequences of an effort to express    
what the language1 without such         
infraction1 could not4 ,there may be    
times when1 as ,i have above described1 
the life of an art is manifested in its 
changes1 and in its refusal of ancient  
limitations3 so there are in the life of
 an insect2 and there is great interest 
in the state of both the art and the    
insect at those periods when1 by their  
natural progress and constitutional     
power1 such changes are about to be     
wrought4 ,but as that would be both an  
uncomfortable and foolish caterpillar   
which1 instead of being contented with a
 caterpillar's life and feeding on      
caterpillar's food1 was always striving 
to turn itself into a chrysalis2 and as 
that would be an unhappy chrysalis which
 should lie awake at night and roll     
restlessly in its cocoon1 in efforts to 

turn itself prematurely into a moth2 so 
will that art be unhappy and            
unprosperous which1 instead of          
supporting itself on the food1 and      
contenting itself with the customs which
 have been enough for the support and   
guidance of other arts before it and    
like it1 is struggling and fretting     
under the natural limitations of its    
existence1 and striving to become       
something other than it is4 ,and though 
it is the nobility of the highest       
creatures to look forward to1 and partly
 to understand the changes which are    
appointed for them1 preparing for them  
beforehand2 and if1 as is usual with    
appointed changes1 they be into a higher
 state1 even desiring them1 and         
rejoicing in the hope of them1 yet it is
 the strength of every creature1 be it  
changeful or not1 to rest for the time  
being1 contented with the conditions of 
its existence1 and striving only to     
bring about the changes which it        
desires1 by fulfilling to the uttermost 

the duties for which its present state  
is appointed and continued4  ,v4        
,neither originality1 therefore1 nor    
change1 good though both may be1 and    
this is commonly a most merciful and    
enthusiastic supposition with respect to
 either1 are ever to be sought in       
themselves1 or can ever be healthily    
obtained by any struggle or rebellion   
against common laws4 ,we want neither   
the one nor the other4 ,the forms of    
architecture already known are good     
enough for us1 and for far better than  
any of us3 and it will be time enough to
 think of changing them for better when 
we can use them as they are4 ,but there 
are some things which we not only want1 
but cannot do without2 and which all the
 struggling and raving in the world1 nay
 more1 which all the real talent and    
resolution in ,england1 will never      
enable us to do without3 and these are  
,obedience1 ,unity1 ,fellowship1 and    
,order4 ,and all our schools of design1 
and committees of tastes2 all our       

academies and lectures1 and journalisms1
 and essays2 all the sacrifices which we
 are beginning to make1 all the truth   
which there is in our ,english nature1  
all the power of our ,english will1 and 
the life of our ,english intellect1 will
 in this matter be as useless as efforts
 and emotions in a dream1 unless we are 
contented to submit architecture and all
 art1 like other things1 to ,english    
law4  ,,vi4 ,i say architecture and all 
art2 for ,i believe architecture must be
 the beginning of arts1 and that the    
others must follow her in their time and
 order2 and ,i think the prosperity of  
our schools of painting and sculpture1  
in which no one will deny the life1     
though many the health1 depends upon    
that of our architecture4 ,i think that 
all will languish until that takes the  
lead1 and 7this ,i do not think1 but ,i 
proclaim1 as confidently as ,i would    
assert the necessity1 for the safety of 
society1 of an understood and strongly  
administered legal government7 our      

architecture will languish1 and that in 
the very dust1 until the first principle
 of common sense be manfully obeyed1 and
 an universal system of form and        
workmanship be everywhere adopted and   
enforced4 ,it may be said that this is  
impossible4 ,it may be so--,i fear it is
 so3 ,i have nothing to do with the     
possibility or impossibility of it2 ,i  
simply know and assert the necessity of 
it4 ,if it be impossible1 ,english art  
is impossible4 ,give it up at once4 ,you
 are wasting time1 and money1 and energy
 upon it1 and though you exhaust        
centuries and treasuries1 and break     
hearts for it1 you will never raise it  
above the merest dilettanteism4 ,think  
not of it4 ,it is a dangerous vanity1 a 
mere gulph in which genius after genius 
will be swallowed up1 and it will not   
close4 ,and so it will continue to be1  
unless the one bold and broad step be   
taken at the beginning4 ,we shall not   
manufacture art out of pottery and      
printed stuffs2 we shall not reason out 

art by our philosophy2 we shall not     
stumble upon art by our experiments1 not
 create it by our fancies3 ,i do not say
 that we can even build it out of brick 
and stone2 but there is a chance for us 
in these1 and there is none else2 and   
that chance rests on the bare           
possibility of obtaining the consent1   
both of architects and of the public1 to
 choose a style1 and to use it          
universally4  ,,vii4 ,how surely its    
principles ought at first to be limited1
 we may easily determine by the         
consideration of the necessary modes of 
teaching any other branch of general    
knowledge4 ,when we begin to teach      
children writing1 we force them to      
absolute copyism1 and require absolute  
accuracy in the formation of the        
letters2 as they obtain command of the  
received modes of literal expression1 we
 cannot prevent their falling into such 
variations as are consistent with their 
feeling1 their circumstances1 or their  
characters4 ,so1 when a boy is first    

taught to write ,latin1 an authority is 
required of him for every expression he 
uses2 as he becomes master of the       
language he may take a license1 and feel
 his right to do so without any         
authority1 and yet write better ,latin  
than when he borrowed every separate    
expression4 ,in the same way our        
architects would have to be taught to   
write the accepted style4 ,we must first
 determine what buildings are to be     
considered ,augustan in their authority2
 their modes of construction and laws of
 proportion are to be studied with the  
most penetrating care2 then the         
different forms and uses of their       
decorations are to be classed and       
catalogued1 as a ,german grammarian     
classes the powers of prepositions2 and 
under this absolute1 irrefragable       
authority1 we are to begin to work2     
admitting not so much as an alteration  
in the depth of a cavetto1 or the       
breadth of a fillet4 ,then1 when our    
sight is once accustomed to the         

grammatical forms and arrangements1 and 
our thoughts familiar with the          
expression of them all2 when we can     
speak this dead language naturally1 and 
apply it to whatever ideas we have to   
render1 that is to say1 to every        
practical purpose of life2 then1 and not
 till then1 a license might be          
permitted2 and individual authority     
allowed to change or to add to the      
received forms1 always within certain   
limits2 the decorations1 especially1    
might be made subjects of variable      
fancy1 and enriched with ideas either   
original or taken from other schools4   
,and thus in process of time and by a   
great national movement1 it might come  
to pass1 that a new style should arise1 
as language itself changes2 we might    
perhaps come to speak ,italian instead  
of ,latin1 or to speak modern instead of
 old ,english2 but this would be a      
matter of entire indifference1 and a    
matter1 besides1 which no determination 
or desire could either hasten or        

prevent4 ,that alone which it is in our 
power to obtain1 and which it is our    
duty to desire1 is an unanimous style of
 some kind1 and such comprehension and  
practice of it as would enable us to    
adapt its features to the peculiar      
character of every several building1    
large or small1 domestic1 civil1 or     
ecclesiastical4 ,i have said that it was
 immaterial what style was adopted1 so  
far as regards the room for originality 
which its developement would admit3 it  
is not so1 however1 when we take into   
consideration the far more important    
questions of the facility of adaptation 
to general purposes1 and of the sympathy
 with which this or that style would be 
popularly regarded4 ,the choice of      
,classical or ,gothic1 again using the  
latter term in its broadest sense1 may  
be questionable when it regards some    
single and considerable public building2
 but ,i cannot conceive it questionable1
 for an instant1 when it regards modern 
uses in general3 ,i cannot conceive any 

architect insane enough to project the  
vulgarization of ,greek architecture4   
,neither can it be rationally           
questionable whether we should adopt    
early or late1 original or derivative   
,gothic3 if the latter were chosen1 it  
must be either some impotent and ugly   
degradation1 like our own ,tudor1 or    
else a style whose grammatical laws it  
would be nearly impossible to limit or  
arrange1 like the ,french ,flamboyant4  
,we are equally precluded from adopting 
styles essentially infantine or         
barbarous1 however ,herculean their     
infancy1 or majestic their outlawry1    
such as our own ,norman1 or the ,lombard
 ,romanesque4 ,the choice would lie ,i  
think between four styles3--#a4 ,the    
,pisan ,romanesque2 #b4 ,the early      
,gothic of the ,western ,italian        
,republics1 advanced as far and as fast 
as our art would enable us to the       
,gothic of ,giotto2 #c4 ,the ,venetian  
,gothic in its purest developement2 #d4 
,the ,english earliest decorated4 ,the  

most natural1 perhaps the safest choice1
 would be of the last1 well fenced from 
chance of again stiffening into the     
perpendicular2 and perhaps enriched by  
some mingling of decorative elements    
from the exquisite decorated ,gothic of 
,france1 of which1 in such cases1 it    
would be needful to accept some well    
known examples1 as the ,north door of   
,rouen and the church of ,st4 ,urbain at
 ,troyes1 for final and limiting        
authorities on the side of decoration4  
,,viii4 ,it is almost impossible for us 
to conceive1 in our present state of    
doubt and ignorance1 the sudden dawn of 
intelligence and fancy1 the rapidly     
increasing sense of power and facility1 
and1 in its proper sense1 of ,freedom1  
which such wholesome restraint would    
instantly cause throughout the whole    
circle of the arts4 ,freed from the     
agitation and embarrassment of that     
liberty of choice which is the cause of 
half the discomforts of the world2 freed
 from the accompanying necessity of     

studying all past1 present1 or even     
possible styles2 and enabled1 by        
concentration of individual1 and        
co-operation of multitudinous energy1 to
 penetrate into the uttermost secrets of
 the adopted style1 the architect would 
find his whole understanding enlarged1  
his practical knowledge certain and     
ready to hand1 and his imagination      
playful and vigorous1 as a child's would
 be within a walled garden1 who would   
sit down and shudder if he were left    
free in a fenceless plain4 ,how many and
 how bright would be the results in     
every direction of interest1 not to the 
arts merely1 but to national happiness  
and virtue1 it would be as difficult to 
preconceive as it would seem extravagant
 to state3 but the first1 perhaps the   
least1 of them would be an increased    
sense of fellowship among ourselves1 a  
cementing of every patriotic bond of    
union1 a proud and happy recognition of 
our affection for and sympathy with each
 other1 and our willingness in all      

things to submit ourselves to every law 
that would advance the interest of the  
community2 a barrier1 also1 the best    
conceivable1 to the unhappy rivalry of  
the upper and middle classes1 in houses1
 furniture1 and establishments2 and even
 a check to much of what is as vain as  
it is painful in the oppositions of     
religious parties respecting matters of 
ritual4 ,these1 ,i say1 would be the    
first consequences4 ,economy increased  
tenfold1 as it would be by the          
simplicity of practice2 domestic        
comforts uninterfered with by the       
caprice and mistakes of architects      
ignorant of the capacities of the styles
 they use1 and all the symmetry and     
sightliness of our harmonized streets   
and public buildings1 are things of     
slighter account in the catalogue of    
benefits4 ,but it would be mere         
enthusiasm to endeavor to trace them    
farther4 ,i have suffered myself too    
long to indulge in the speculative      
statement of requirements which perhaps 

we have more immediate and more serious 
work than to supply1 and of feelings    
which it may be only contingently in our
 power to recover4 ,i should be unjustly
 thought unaware of the difficulty of   
what ,i have proposed1 or of the        
unimportance of the whole subject as    
compared with many which are brought    
home to our interests and fixed upon our
 consideration by the wild course of the
 present century4 ,but of difficulty and
 of importance it is for others to      
judge4 ,i have limited myself to the    
simple statement of what1 if we desire  
to have architecture1 we ,,must         
primarily endeavor to feel and do3 but  
then it may not be desirable for us to  
have architecture at all4 ,there are    
many who feel it to be so2 many who     
sacrifice much to that end2 and ,i am   
sorry to see their energies wasted and  
their lives disquieted in vain4 ,i have 
stated1 therefore1 the only ways in     
which that end is attainable1 without   
venturing even to express an opinion as 

to its real desirableness4 ,i have an   
opinion1 and the zeal with which ,i have
 spoken may sometimes have betrayed it1 
but ,i hold to it with no confidence4 ,i
 know too well the undue importance     
which the study that every man follows  
must assume in his own eyes1 to trust my
 own impressions of the dignity of that 
of ,architecture2 and yet ,i think ,i   
cannot be utterly mistaken in regarding 
it as at least useful in the sense of a 
,national employment4 ,i am confirmed in
 this impression by what ,i see passing 
among the states of ,europe at this     
instant4 ,all the horror1 distress1 and 
tumult which oppress the foreign        
nations1 are traceable1 among the other 
secondary causes through which ,god is  
working out ,his will upon them1 to the 
simple one of their not having enough to
 do4 ,i am not blind to the distress    
among their operatives2 nor do ,i deny  
the nearer and visibly active causes of 
the movement3 the recklessness of       
villany in the leaders of revolt1 the   

absence of common moral principle in the
 upper classes1 and of common courage   
and honesty in the heads of governments4
 ,but these causes themselves are       
ultimately traceable to a deeper and    
simpler one3 the recklessness of the    
demagogue1 the immorality of the middle 
class1 and the effeminacy and treachery 
of the noble1 are traceable in all these
 nations to the commonest and most      
fruitful cause of calamity in           
households--idleness4 ,we think too much
 in our benevolent efforts1 more        
multiplied and more vain day by day1 of 
bettering men by giving them advice and 
instruction4 ,there are few who will    
take either3 the chief thing they need  
is occupation4 ,i do not mean work in   
the sense of bread1--,i mean work in the
 sense of mental interest2 for those who
 either are placed above the necessity  
of labor for their bread1 or who will   
not work although they should4 ,there is
 a vast quantity of idle energy among   
,european nations at this time1 which   

ought to go into handicrafts2 there are 
multitudes of idle semi-gentlemen who   
ought to be shoemakers and carpenters2  
but since they will not be these so long
 as they can help it1 the business of   
the philanthropist is to find them some 
other employment than disturbing        
governments4 ,it is of no use to tell   
them they are fools1 and that they will 
only make themselves miserable in the   
end as well as others3 if they have     
nothing else to do1 they will do        
mischief2 and the man who will not work1
 and who has no means of intellectual   
pleasure1 is as sure to become an       
instrument of evil as if he had sold    
himself bodily to ,satan4 ,i have myself
 seen enough of the daily life of the   
young educated men of ,france and       
,italy1 to account for1 as it deserves1 
the deepest national suffering and      
degradation2 and though1 for the most   
part1 our commerce and our natural      
habits of industry preserve us from a   
similar paralysis1 yet it would be wise 

to consider whether the forms of        
employment which we chiefly adopt or    
promote1 are as well calculated as they 
might be to improve and elevate us4  ,we
 have just spent1 for instance1 a       
hundred and fifty millions1 with which  
we have paid men for digging ground from
 one place and depositing it in another4
 ,we have formed a large class of men1  
the railway navvies1 especially         
reckless1 unmanageable1 and dangerous4  
,we have maintained besides 7let us     
state the benefits as fairly as         
possible7 a number of iron founders in  
an unhealthy and painful employment2 we 
have developed 7this is at least good7 a
 very large amount of mechanical        
ingenuity2 and we have1 in fine1        
attained the power of going fast from   
one place to another4 ,meantime we have 
had no mental interest or concern       
ourselves in the operations we have set 
on foot1 but have been left to the usual
 vanities and cares of our existence4   
,suppose1 on the other hand1 that we had

 employed the same sums in building     
beautiful houses and churches4 ,we      
should have maintained the same number  
of men1 not in driving wheelbarrows1 but
 in a distinctly technical1 if not      
intellectual1 employment1 and those who 
were more intelligent among them would  
have been especially happy in that      
employment1 as having room in it for the
 developement of their fancy1 and being 
directed by it to that observation of   
beauty which1 associated with the       
pursuit of natural science1 at present  
forms the enjoyment of many of the more 
intelligent manufacturing operatives4   
,of mechanical ingenuity1 there is1 ,i  
imagine1 at least as much required to   
build a cathedral as to cut a tunnel or 
contrive a locomotive3 we should1       
therefore1 have developed as much       
science1 while the artistical element of
 intellect would have been added to the 
gain4 ,meantime we should ourselves have
 been made happier and wiser by the     
interest we should have taken in the    

work with which we were personally      
concerned2 and when all was done1       
instead of the very doubtful advantage  
of the power of going fast from place to
 place1 we should have had the certain  
advantage of increased pleasure in      
stopping at home4  ,,ix4 ,there are many
 other less capacious1 but more         
constant1 channels of expenditure1 quite
 as disputable in their beneficial      
tendency2 and we are1 perhaps1 hardly   
enough in the habit of inquiring1 with  
respect to any particular form of luxury
 or any customary appliance of life1    
whether the kind of employment it gives 
to the operative or the dependant be as 
healthy and fitting an employment as we 
might otherwise provide for him4 ,it is 
not enough to find men absolute         
subsistence2 we should think of the     
manner of life which our demands        
necessitate2 and endeavor1 as far as may
 be1 to make all our needs such as may1 
in the supply of them1 raise1 as well as
 feed1 the poor4 ,it is far better to   

give work which is above the men1 than  
to educate the men to be above their    
work4 ,it may be doubted1 for instance1 
whether the habits of luxury1 which     
necessitate a large train of men        
servants1 be a wholesome form of        
expenditure2 and more1 whether the      
pursuits which have a tendency to       
enlarge the class of the jockey and the 
groom be a philanthropic form of mental 
occupation4 ,so again1 consider the     
large number of men whose lives are     
employed by civilized nations in cutting
 facets upon jewels4 ,there is much     
dexterity of hand1 patience1 and        
ingenuity thus bestowed1 which are      
simply burned out in the blaze of the   
tiara1 without1 so far as ,i see1       
bestowing any pleasure upon those who   
wear or who behold1 at all compensatory 
for the loss of life and mental power   
which are involved in the employment of 
the workman4 ,he would be far more      
healthily and happily sustained by being
 set to carve stone2 certain qualities  

of his mind1 for which there is no room 
in his present occupation1 would        
develope themselves in the nobler2 and  
,i believe that most women would1 in the
 end1 prefer the pleasure of having     
built a church1 or contributed to the   
adornment of a cathedral1 to the pride  
of bearing a certain quantity of adamant
 on their foreheads4  ,x4 ,i could      
pursue this subject willingly1 but ,i   
have some strange notions about it which
 it is perhaps wiser not loosely to set 
down4 ,i content myself with finally    
reasserting1 what has been throughout   
the burden of the preceding pages1 that 
whatever rank1 or whatever importance1  
may be attributed or attached to their  
immediate subject1 there is at least    
some value in the analogies with which  
its pursuit has presented us1 and some  
instruction in the frequent reference of
 its commonest necessities to the mighty
 laws1 in the sense and scope of which  
all men are ,builders1 whom every hour  
sees laying the stubble or the stone4   

,i have paused1 not once nor twice1 as  
,i wrote1 and often have checked the    
course of what might otherwise have been
 importunate persuasion1 as the thought 
has crossed me1 how soon all            
,architecture may be vain1 except that  
which is not made with hands4 ,there is 
something ominous in the light which has
 enabled us to look back with disdain   
upon the ages among whose lovely        
vestiges we have been wandering4 ,i     
could smile when ,i hear the hopeful    
exultation of many1 at the new reach of 
worldly science1 and vigor of worldly   
effort2 as if we were again at the      
beginning of days4 ,there is thunder on 
the horizon as well as dawn4 ,the sun   
was risen upon the earth when ,lot      
entered into ,zoar4     ,,notes   ,,note
 ,i4  ,page #ba4  ,with the idolatrous  
,egyptian4  ,the probability is indeed  
slight in comparison1 but it is a       
probability nevertheless1 and one which 
is daily on the increase4 ,i trust that 
,i may not be thought to underrate the  

danger of such sympathy1 though ,i speak
 lightly of the chance of it4 ,i have   
confidence in the central religious body
 of the ,english and ,scottish people1  
as being not only untainted with        
,romanism1 but immoveably adverse to it3
 and1 however strangely and swiftly the 
heresy of the ,protestant and victory of
 the ,papist may seem to be extending   
among us1 ,i feel assured that there are
 barriers in the living faith of this   
nation which neither can overpass4 ,yet 
this confidence is only in the ultimate 
faithfulness of a few1 not in the       
security of the nation from the sin and 
the punishment of partial apostasy4     
,both have1 indeed1 in some sort1 been  
committed and suffered already2 and1 in 
expressing my belief of the close       
connection of the distress and burden   
which the mass of the people at present 
sustain1 with the encouragement which1  
in various directions1 has been given to
 the ,papist1 do not let me be called   
superstitious or irrational4 ,no man was

 ever more inclined than ,i1 both by    
natural disposition and by many ties of 
early association1 to a sympathy with   
the principles and forms of the         
,romanist ,church2 and there is much in 
its discipline which conscientiously1 as
 well as sympathetically1 ,i could love 
and advocate4 ,but1 in confessing this  
strength of affectionate prejudice1     
surely ,i vindicate more respect for my 
firmly expressed belief1 that the entire
 doctrine and system of that ,church is 
in the fullest sense anti-,christian2   
that its lying and idolatrous ,power is 
the darkest plague that ever held       
commission to hurt the ,earth2 that all 
those yearnings for unity and           
fellowship1 and common obedience1 which 
have been the root of our late heresies1
 are as false in their grounds as fatal 
in their termination2 that we never can 
have the remotest fellowship with the   
utterers of that fearful ,falsehood1 and
 live2 that we have nothing to look to  
from them but treacherous hostility2 and

 that1 exactly in proportion to the     
sternness of our separation from them1  
will be not only the spiritual but the  
temporal blessings granted by ,god to   
this country4 ,how close has been the   
correspondence hitherto between the     
degree of resistance to ,romanism marked
 in our national acts1 and the honor    
with which those acts have been crowned1
 has been sufficiently proved in a short
 essay by a writer whose investigations 
into the influence of ,religion upon the
 fate of ,nations have been singularly  
earnest and successful--a writer with   
whom ,i faithfully and firmly believe   
that ,england will never be prosperous  
again1 and that the honor of her arms   
will be tarnished1 and her commerce     
blighted1 and her national character    
degraded1 until the ,romanist is        
expelled from the place which has       
impiously been conceded to him among her
 legislators4 ,whatever be the lot of   
those to whom error is an inheritance1  
woe be to the man and the people to whom

 it is an adoption4 ,if ,england1 free  
above all other nations1 sustained      
amidst the trials which have covered    
,europe1 before her eyes1 with burning  
and slaughter1 and enlightened by the   
fullest knowledge of divine truth1 shall
 refuse fidelity to the compact by which
 those matchless privileges have been   
given1 her condemnation will not linger4
 ,she has already made one step full of 
danger4 ,she has committed the capital  
error of mistaking that for a purely    
political question which was a purely   
religious one4 ,her foot already hangs  
over the edge of the precipice4 ,it must
 be retracted1 or the empire is but a   
name4 ,in the clouds and darkness which 
seem to be deepening on all human       
policy--in the gathering tumults of     
,europe1 and the feverish discontents at
 home--it may be even difficult to      
discern where the power yet lives to    
erect the fallen majesty of the         
constitution once more4 ,but there are  
mighty means in sincerity2 and if no    

miracle was ever wrought for the        
faithless and despairing1 the country   
that will help itself will never be left
 destitute of the help of ,heaven       
7,historical ,essays1 by the ,rev4 ,dr4 
,croly1 #ahdb74 ,the first of these     
essays1 ,england the ,fortress of       
,christianity1 ,i most earnestly        
recommend to the meditation of those who
 doubt that a special punishment is     
inflicted by the ,deity upon all        
national crime1 and perhaps1 of all such
 crime most instantly upon the betrayal 
on the part of ,england of the truth and
 faith with which she has been          
entrusted4   ,,note ,,ii4  ,page #be4   
,not the gift1 but the giving4  ,much   
attention has lately been directed to   
the subject of religious art1 and we are
 now in possession of all kinds of      
interpretations and classifications of  
it1 and of the leading facts of its     
history4 ,but the greatest question of  
all connected with it remains entirely  
unanswered1 ,what good did it do to real

 religion8 ,there is no subject into    
which ,i should so much rejoice to see a
 serious and conscientious inquiry      
instituted as this2 an inquiry neither  
undertaken in artistical enthusiasm nor 
in monkish sympathy1 but dogged1        
merciless and fearless4 ,i love the     
religious art of ,italy as well as most 
men1 but there is a wide difference     
between loving it as a manifestation of 
individual feeling1 and looking to it as
 an instrument of popular benefit4 ,i   
have not knowledge enough to form even  
the shadow of an opinion on this latter 
point1 and ,i should be most grateful to
 any one who would put it in my power to
 do so4 ,there are1 as it seems to me1  
three distinct questions to be          
considered3 the first1 ,what has been   
the effect of external splendor on the  
genuineness and earnestness of          
,christian worship8 the second1 ,what   
the use of pictorial or sculptural      
representation in the communication of  
,christian historical knowledge1 or     

excitement of affectionate imagination8 
the third1 ,what the influence of the   
practice of religious art on the life of
 the artist8  ,in answering these       
inquiries1 we should have to consider   
separately every collateral influence   
and circumstance2 and1 by a most subtle 
analysis1 to eliminate the real effect  
of art from the effects of the abuses   
with which it was associated4 ,this     
could be done only by a ,christian2 not 
a man who would fall in love with a     
sweet color or sweet expression1 but who
 would look for true faith and          
consistent life as the object of all4   
,it never has been done yet1 and the    
question remains a subject of vain and  
endless contention between parties of   
opposite prejudices and temperaments4   
,,note ,,iii4  ,page #bf4  ,to the      
concealment of what is really good or   
great4  ,i have often been surprised at 
the supposition that ,romanism1 ,in its 
present condition1 could either         
patronise art or profit by it4 ,the     

noble painted windows of ,st4 ,maclou at
 ,rouen1 and many other churches in     
,france1 are entirely blocked up behind 
the altars by the erection of huge      
gilded wooden sunbeams1 with            
interspersed cherubs4   ,,note ,,iv4    
,page #cc4  ,with different pattern of  
traceries in each4  ,i have certainly   
not examined the seven hundred and four 
traceries 7four to each niche7 so as to 
be sure that none are alike2 but they   
have the aspect of continual variation1 
and even the roses of the pendants of   
the small groined niche roofs are all of
 different patterns4   ,,note ,v4  ,page
 #dc4  ,its flamboyant traceries of the 
last and most degraded forms4  ,they are
 noticed by ,mr4 ,whewell as forming the
 figure of the fleur-de-lis1 always a   
mark1 when in tracery bars1 of the most 
debased flamboyant4 ,it occurs in the   
central tower of ,bayeux1 very richly in
 the buttresses of ,st4 ,gervais at     
,falaise1 and in the small niches of    
some of the domestic buildings at       

,rouen4 ,nor is it only the tower of    
,st4 ,ouen which is overrated4 ,its nave
 is a base imitation1 in the flamboyant 
period1 of an early ,gothic arrangement2
 the niches on its piers are barbarisms2
 there is a huge square shaft run       
through the ceiling of the aisles to    
support the nave piers1 the ugliest     
excrescence ,i ever saw on a ,gothic    
building2 the traceries of the nave are 
the most insipid and faded flamboyant2  
those of the transept clerestory present
 a singularly distorted condition of    
perpendicular2 even the elaborate door  
of the south transept is1 for its fine  
period1 extravagant and almost grotesque
 in its foliation and pendants4 ,there  
is nothing truly fine in the church but 
the choir1 the light triforium1 and tall
 clerestory1 the circle of ,eastern     
chapels1 the details of sculpture1 and  
the general lightness of proportion2    
these merits being seen to the utmost   
advantage by the freedom of the body of 
the church from all incumbrance4        

,,note ,,vi4  ,page #dc4  ,compare      
,iliad ,greek3 ,s4 #a4 #bai with        
,odyssey ,greek3 ,o4 #a4 #e-aj4   ,,note
 ,,vii4  ,page #dd4  ,does not admit    
iron as a constructive material4        
,except in ,chaucer's noble temple of   
,mars4    ,and dounward from an hill    
under a bent1   ,ther stood the temple  
of ,mars1 armipotent1   ,wrought all of 
burned stele1 of which th' entree   ,was
 longe and streite1 and gastly for to   
see4   ,and thereout came a rage and    
swiche a vise1   ,that it made all the  
gates for to rise4   ,the northern light
 in at the dore shone1   ,for window on 
the wall ne was ther none1   ,thurgh    
which men mighten any light discerne    
,the dore was all of athamant eterne1   
,yclenched overthwart and ende long     
,with yren tough1 and for to make it    
strong1   ,every piler the temple to    
sustene   ,was tonne-gret1 of yren      
bright and shene4                       
,the ,knighte's ,tale4  ,there is1 by   
the bye1 an exquisite piece of          

architectural color just before3    ,and
 northward1 in a turret on the wall     
,of alabaster white1 and red corall1    
,an oratorie riche for to see1   ,in    
worship of ,diane of ,chastitee4        
,,note ,,viii4  ,page #dd4  ,the        
,builders of ,salisbury4  ,this way of  
tying walls together with iron1 instead 
of making them of that substance and    
form1 that they shall naturally poise   
themselves upon their buttment1 is      
against the rules of good architecture1 
not only because iron is corruptible by 
rust1 but because it is fallacious1     
having unequal veins in the metal1 some 
places of the same bar being three times
 stronger than others1 and yet all sound
 to appearance4 ,survey of ,salisbury   
,cathedral in #affh1 by ,sir ,c4 ,wren4 
,for my own part1 ,i think it better    
work to bind a tower with iron1 than to 
support a false dome by a brick pyramid4
   ,,note ,,ix4  ,page #fj4  ,,plate    
,,iii4  ,in this plate1 figures #d1 #e1 
and #f1 are glazed windows1 but fig4 #b 

is the open light of a belfry tower1 and
 figures #a and #c are in triforia1 the 
latter also occurring filled1 on the    
central tower of ,coutances4   ,,note   
,x4  ,page #id4  ,ornaments of the      
transept towers of ,rouen4  ,the reader 
cannot but observe agreeableness1 as a  
mere arrangement of shade1 which        
especially belongs to the sacred        
trefoil4 ,i do not think that the       
element of foliation has been enough    
insisted upon in its intimate relations 
with the power of ,gothic work4 ,if ,i  
were asked what was the most distinctive
 feature of its perfect style1 ,i should
 say the ,trefoil4 ,it is the very soul 
of it2 and ,i think the loveliest       
,gothic is always formed upon simple and
 bold tracings of it1 taking place      
between the blank lancet arch on the one
 hand1 and the overcharged cinquefoiled 
arch on the other4   ,,note ,,xi4  ,page
 #ie4  ,and levelled cusps of stone4    
,the plate represents one of the lateral
 windows of the third story of the      

,palazzo ,foscari4 ,it was drawn from   
the opposite side of the ,grand ,canal1 
and the lines of its traceries are      
therefore given as they appear in       
somewhat distant effect4 ,it shows only 
segments of the characteristic          
quatrefoils of the central windows4 ,i  
found by measurement their construction 
exceedingly simple4 ,four circles are   
drawn in contact within the large       
circle4 ,two tangential lines are then  
drawn to each opposite pair1 enclosing  
the four circles in a hollow cross4 ,an 
inner circle struck through the         
intersections of the circles by the     
tangents1 truncates the cusps4   ,,note 
,,xii4  ,page #abd4  ,into vertical     
equal parts4  ,not absolutely so4 ,there
 are variations partly accidental 7or at
 least compelled by the architect's     
effort to recover the vertical71 between
 the sides of the stories2 and the upper
 and lower story are taller than the    
rest4 ,there is1 however1 an apparent   
equality between five out of the eight  

tiers4   ,,note ,,xiii4  ,page #acc4    
,never paint a column with vertical     
lines4  ,it should be observed1 however1
 that any pattern which gives opponent  
lines in its parts1 may be arranged on  
lines parallel with the main structure4 
,thus1 rows of diamonds1 like spots on a
 snake's back1 or the bones on a        
sturgeon1 are exquisitely applied both  
to vertical and spiral columns4 ,the    
loveliest instances of such decoration  
that ,i know1 are the pillars of the    
cloister of ,st4 ,john ,lateran1 lately 
illustrated by ,mr4 ,digby ,wyatt1 in   
his most valuable and faithful work on  
antique mosaic4   ,,note ,,xiv4  ,page  
#aci4  ,on the cover of this volume the 
reader will find some figure outlines of
 the same period and character1 from the
 floor of ,san ,miniato at ,florence4 ,i
 have to thank its designer1 ,mr4 ,w4   
,harry ,rogers1 for his intelligent     
arrangement of them1 and graceful       
adaptation of the connecting arabesque4 
7,stamp on cloth cover of ,london       

edition47   ,,note ,,xv4  ,page #afi4   
,the flowers lost their light1 the river
 its music4  ,yet not all their light1  
nor all their music4 ,compare ,modern   
,painters1 vol4 ii4 sec4 #a4 chap4 iv4  
,,section #h4   ,,note ,,xvi4  ,page    
#aha4  ,by the artists of the time of   
,perides4  ,this subordination was first
 remarked to me by a friend1 whose      
profound knowledge of ,greek art will   
not1 ,i trust1 be reserved always for   
the advantage of his friends only3 ,mr4 
,c4 ,newton1 of the ,british ,museum4   
,,note ,,xvii4  ,page #ahh4  ,in one of 
the noblest poems4  ,coleridge's ,ode to
 ,france3    ,ye ,clouds6 that far above
 me float and pause1     ,whose pathless
 march no mortal may control6     ,ye   
,ocean-,waves6 that wheresoe'er ye roll1
   ,yield homage only to eternal laws6  
,ye ,woods6 that listen to the          
night-birds singing4     ,midway the    
smooth and perilous slope reclined1     
,save when your own imperious branches  
swinging1     ,have made a solemn music 

of the wind6   ,where1 like a man       
beloved of ,god1   ,through glooms1     
which never woodman trod1     ,how oft1 
pursuing fancies holy1   ,my moonlight  
way o'er flowering weeds ,i wound1      
,inspired1 beyond the guess of folly1   
,by each rude shape and wild            
unconquerable sound6   ,o ye loud       
,waves6 and ,o ye ,forests high6        
,and ,o ye ,clouds that far above me    
soared6   ,thou rising ,sun6 thou blue  
rejoicing ,sky6     ,yea1 everything    
that is and will be free6     ,bear     
witness for me1 wheresoe'er ye be1      
,with what deep worship ,i have still   
adored       ,the spirit of divinest    
,liberty4  ,noble verse1 but erring     
thought3 contrast ,george ,herbert3--   
,slight those who say amidst their      
sickly healths1   ,thou livest by rule4 
,what doth not so but man8   ,houses are
 built by rule and ,commonwealths4      
,entice the trusty sun1 if that you can1
   ,from his ecliptic line2 beckon the  
sky4   ,who lives by rule then1 keeps   

good company4    ,who keeps no guard    
upon himself is slack1   ,and rots to   
nothing at the next great thaw2   ,man  
is a shop of rules3 a well-truss'd pack 
,whose every parcel underwrites a law4  
,lose not thyself1 nor give thy humors  
way2   ,god gave them to thee under lock
 and key4     ,,transcriber',s ,,notes  
#a4 ,passages in italics are surrounded 
by underscores4  #b4 ,the original text 
includes ,greek characters4 ,for this   
text version these letters have been    
replaced with transliterations4  #c4    
,numbered subscript is represented using
 underscore4 ,for instance1 a#b         
indicates letter a with subscript #b4   
#d4 ,the original text includes certain 
characters with overline4 ,for this     
version1 such letters have been         
preceeded with equals sign enclosed in  
square brackets4 ,for instance1 a       
indicates letter a with overline4