History. the true architect must possess a combination of the qualities of the scholar, the artist, the mathematician, and thorough man of business-qualities the most opposite in their character, not often seen singly, and most rarely to be all found combined in the same individual. However, such is the state of the case, and such is the true reason why in all ages there have been so few architects of the very first rank.

Vitruvius' divisions

of.

Construction.

Parts of the Art. Ordination.

It is to be regretted that the only author of classic antiquity on the subject of architecture whose works have come down to us is Marcus Vitruvius Pollio. His ten books on the subject are of the highest curiosity and value. Unfortunately, as he himself hints, he was more of the architect than the author. His style is crude and somewhat confused, his technology very difficult to understand, and his definitions sometimes perplex instead of elucidating the subject. Nevertheless, a careful and painstaking perusal of his works show a strong common sense, a love of beauty, a great propriety of taste, and principles which are equally true in every style of architecture. The number1 and beauty of the MSS. of this author which are extant show the popularity he must have had in the Middle Ages. Indeed his enumeration of the requisites of a good building, Firmitas, Utilitas, Venustas-Stability, Utility, Beauty-is as much

that of the mediaval as of the classic architect.

Of the first of these qualities, firmness and stability, we shall here treat only as regards the bearing such qualities may have in design and effect. The details of stability will be found in the various heads-BUILDING, CONSTRUCTION, CARPENTRY, JOINERY, ROOF, STONE-MASONRY, STRENGTH OF MATERIALS, &c. &c. The others will be treated of as they arise.

It is now proposed to follow our author in his definition of the different branches of his art, and to comment on the same as we go on; first, because he treats so copiously on the matter, and next on account of the interest arising as to his works since the commencement of the Dictionary of the Architectural Publication Society. It has been his misfortune to be over praised sometime ago, and unreasonably neglected lately, and in both cases to have been misunderstood. The dictionary alluded to, and the noble edition of Stratico (4to, Utini, 1826), have, however, thrown much light on the work, and shown how much more valuable it is than has been supposed.

Vitruvius begins (lib. i. cap. 2) by stating that architecture consists of ordination, which the Greeks call Táis; of disposition, which they call duáeois; of eurythmy; of symmetry; of propriety (decor.); and of distribution, which the Greeks call oukovouía, or stewardship. Commentators have been much puzzled to give a correct explanation of ordinatio, but as we are not now editing this author, we shall not enter on the question. The general scope, however, may be shortly stated thus-the first thing to be done is a general consideration of the convenience of the design (commoditas), a comparison of the parts, an idea of the size (Tooórs) and dimension, and of the style and general effect of the whole.2

Vitruvius, then, defines disposition as the getting the History. work into form, or, as we should say, "upon paper." He subdivides this head into three parts-Ichnography, or plan; Orthography, or geometrical elevation; Scenography, front. These are to be carried out, he says, by two or perspective views, showing the flanks as well as the faculties of the mind,-thought and invention,-by which beauty is arrived at and difficulties overcome.

He then tells us to consider the eurythmy, or the general large proportions of height to width and width to the architect should next study the masses of his design. length of the members of the composition. In other words, Next comes symmetry, or the proportions of the details ; as the human body has certain symmetrical proportions, the forearm, the foot, hand, finger, &c., so should the columns, antæ, and other parts of a building also have definite proportions each to the other. propriety (decor.), and this he divides into three partsBut to effect this well, our author says we must study Propriety. quariuós, or site; custom (conventionality); and nature. Thus, he says, temples to Jove, the Sun, Moon, &c., should be hypæthral, open to the air (sub dio); to Minerva, Mars, Hercules, &c., they should be Doric; to Venus, Flora, ful and florid; while to Juno, Diana, Bacchus, &c., they Proserpine, &c., they should be Corinthian, as more graceshould be Ionic, as a style between the severe Doric and the slender Corinthian. He instances, as a want of propriety, elegant interiors with low and shabby entrances; and, as a solecism against established rules, dentils in Doric and triglyphs in Ionic entablatures. He then treats of propriety, as regards site and aspect, which he calls natural propriety, first as regards the selection of a healthy spot, and one having good air and water; and then tells us, among many other matters, that the cubicula and libraries should face the east; baths and winter rooms the west; and that picture galleries should have a north light, &c. &c.

3

We then come to the division, Distributio or economy; Economy. and this consists of two branches, the making the most of the site, and such a saving of funds as is consistent with moderation. "If you cannot get pozzolano except at great price," he says, " you may use river-sand or well-washed seasand. If fir or pine is scarce, use cypress, poplar, &c.; and, last of all, build according to the wealth, dignity, and power of your employer." Then, with a further injunction to regard stability, utility, and beauty, Vitruvius goes on with the details of his art.

What principles of architecture can be more sound, real, True prinand true, we are at a loss to know. The architect is first ciples. to find out what the requirements of his employer may be, then to get them roughly together; then to set out his plan, study his elevation, and set up a rough perspective. From this he is to proportion his masses, and then study his detail and ornament; all the while to be governed by a sense of general propriety, a deference to religious opinion and the conventionalities of society, and to spare his employer's purse as much as he can, consistently with making the building worthy of his position in society. This seems exactly the mode pursued by Sir Christopher Wren, if we may judge from his drawings preserved at All Soul's College and elsewhere, and is equally applicable to every style of architecture. It is true, in the present day, there are some who try to produce effects by lavish expenditure, especially in ecclesiastical buildings; but our common sense must

History. tell us that one of the chief virtues of an architect is the economy so strictly enjoined by Vitruvius.

Decorate construc

tion.

Utility without beauty.

Beauty

without utility.

Beauty of design.

We find, also, that our author held the principle of designing the masses or general construction, and then adding such ornament as might be fitting to the object, use, and expense of the different buildings. It has been lately supposed that this true principle, " decorate your construction," is peculiar to medieval architecture alone. But this is not so. The ancients having settled their general proportions, proceeded to add such decoration as propriety seemed to dictate. Mouldings were increased in number, and covered with the echinus or other ornament; friezes and architraves were sculptured with rich foliage and figures; capitals and bases enriched; columns fluted instead of being left plain; soffits sunk and coffered; in short, the decoration of the classic architect had as little to do with the broad masses of the construction as that of the mediæval architect. The Doric of the theatre of Marcellus has very much the same proportionate parts as those of the same order in the baths of Diocletian; the Corinthian of the Pantheon is very similar in mass to what is generally called the Jupiter Stator or those in the Forum of Nerva. The same blocks of marble would have constructed the same orders (of course if on the same scale); but the difference is in the enrichments-the labour of carving in the one is threefold that in the other. The construction is the same, but the decoration has been carried much further. The former are plain and simple; the latter, being intended for more luxurious purposes, are naturally much

richer.

Let us now consider a mere utilitarian building, where there is no pretension to design. Take the majority of the houses about Bloomsbury and Marylebone. They are roomy, commodious structures, fitted with every convenience for families of the highest respectability. Yet, externally, they have been very truly described as "brick walls with rectangular holes in them." If, instead of a plain, flat coping at the top, we add a handsome cornice; if we put a well-proportioned dressing round each window, with consoles to carry the cills, and rich string courses, or balconies with ornamented balustrades; if we build a handsome portico to the door: if we invest the house with all these architectural features, the tenants will enjoy the interior just as before; they will not eat more, nor sleep sounder; but they will feel a greater pleasure and pride in their dwelling every time they or their friends go in or out; and the house itself will fetch a higher rent. All this results from the pleasure which elevated minds take in works of art, and the appreciation they have of thought, care, and mental ingenuity.

But to affect beauty without utility is the gravest of all mistakes. Houses are made to reside in, for our comfort, our solace, our repose. If the internal arrangements are not suited to all these things, the house, which at first was our pride, becomes at last intolerable, and we are compelled to seek in some plain unpretending abode the qualifications that tasteful decoration will not afford us. When the Earl of Burlington designed the house for General Wade, the front and all the internal decoration was of great beauty; but the rooms were all passage rooms, the staircase being in one corner, and there was not one apartment in the house fitted for its particular domestic use. The wits advised him to take a house opposite, that he might look across and admire the beauty of his own, while he enjoyed the comfort of the latter; and there was much truth and common sense in their advice.

Let us now inquire into the principles of designing with beauty. By this is meant designing so as to please the eye and taste; for buildings may be of rude material and form, and yet may please by their size and propriety. Thus, the

History.

jail at Newgate is generally admired, particularly the corner
facing Giltspur Street. It is simple, massive, imposing, and
tells its own tale. It is a great prison, a building intended
by its rugged appearance to deter from crime. So that in
speaking of beauty we include those buildings which please
from their grandeur, just as in poetry the sublime delights
us as well as the beautiful. The chief elements which lead
to these feelings of pleasure may be ranked as follows.
The size of a building has much to do with the pleasure Size.
we derive from its contemplation. Pyramids have all the
same general form, but those of Egypt astonish and delight
us by their vastness.
Obelisks have much the same pro-
portion, but we are more pleased with the vast monoliths at
Rome than with smaller erections of exactly the same pro-
portion. The great temples in Sicily and the Parthenon
please from their size as well as their design; and the
temple at Tivoli pleases more than the choragic monument
of Lysicrates. The trilithons at Stonhenge, and the crom-
lech at Aylesford please from their vastness, while the very
same forms on a small scale would be unnoticed. The
plain, simple early cathedrals in Normandy please more
than the smaller and richer churches of a later period.
In fact, size, no doubt, is a great element in exciting
our admiration. Grandeur can hardly be said to exist
without it.

In the same way, the size of the material used has much to do with the effect in some styles of architecture. Large buildings look all the better if the stones are in large blocks, particularly in the level architraves of the Egyptians and Romans. Thus our Lord's disciples (St Mark xiii. 1) admired the vastness of the stones in the Temple at Jerusalem; and the historian of Peterboro', Hugo Candidus, records with much satisfaction the "lapides immanissimos" with which the old cathedral was built. Marble looks better than stone, and stone than brick, in all classic work. But the Gothic architects, whose methods of transport were very imperfect, and who were compelled to cut large stones into small pieces in the quarry for the convenience of carriage, boldly proceeded in a contrary path, and gave artificial grandeur to their buildings by the small size of their component parts. Much of this source of pleasure depends on our next element, costliness.

This also, though not invariably so, is another element Costliness. which gives us pleasure. Apart from the beauty of colour in marble, comes the consideration of the distance from which it has been brought, and its corresponding price. In contemplating polished granite, we consider the vast labour and expense of reducing so hard a material. We respect the motives which led the founder to what must have been a sacrifice on his part to exalt his object; and we feel also that he meant to please us, the spectators, and are gratified to have beheld such rareties and riches of art as are not to be seen every day, and we feel a sort of reflected pride in the remembrance.

But costliness must be tastefully expended, or it becomes unpleasant. A plain garment which fits well is much more becoming than ill shaped cloth of gold. When we behold lavish expenditure badly carried out, we say, "What a pity it is this rich man had not gone a step further, and paid somebody to find him a little taste." Besides this, it often then assumes the character of ostentation, and nothing is more offensive than this in architecture, as in other matters.

Leaving, now, the consideration of size and cost, the first Mass. thing no doubt to study is the general disposition of the masses of the composition. Perhaps the best way would be to look at the building at such a distance that the mind may not be disturbed by the contemplation of the details, or to study it by moonlight. Thus, the mass of a Gothic cathedral, the proportion of its parts, the outline of tower,

History. nave, choir, and lady chapel, the deep shadows which show the projection or recess of its various parts-all form one great element of beauty, when there is not light enough to distinguish mouldings, or carvings, or tracery.

Stability.

Harmony.

Proportion of.

Symmetry.

In an analogous way, we are pleased by the appearance of stability in a building. A feeling of security always gives satisfaction; and to an educated mind the proper disposition of parts, as openings over openings, sufficient support to superincumbent weights, and adequate abutment to arches, all contribute to please. While large weights on slight shafts, huge ponderous pendants in groined roofs, artifices to conceal the means of support, all tend to excite feelings of distrust and dissatisfaction.

On the other hand, the eye is oppressed by heaviness in a design. Any undue waste of material, any unnecessary weights or thicknesses, displease in buildings where such massiveness or heaviness is not an inherent feature. The massive forms and rude rustics of Newgate would be quite out of character in a palace, theatre, or even in private houses.

Another error into which an architect may fall is a want of repose in his composition. Few things are more displeasing in a building than an appearance of flutter, confusion of parts, projections without purpose, ornaments obtruding themselves on our notice, a want of rest and balance,—all this should be avoided if we would please the spectator.

There should also be a harmony throughout the design. Parts should balance each other. Those supported should have an adequate ratio to their supports, and so should it be with the solids and voids. If there be columns in one story those in the next may be lighter, but should still retain a definite proportion. If too large they dwarf the lower story, if too small they become poor and petty. So in gothic buildings the clere-stories should neither be too large nor too small for the arcades; nor the aisles too wide or too narrow in relation to the nave.

This brings us to the most material of all considerations, the proportion of masses. Every one, even the most uneducated, will be struck on entering a building if it be too low, or unreasonably high. A gallery for pictures, or a corridor, may be as long as one pleases without offence to the eye, because length is necessary to its use; but an apartment for any useful purpose should not be too long for its width, nor too high or low for either. There is no doubt that a system of proportion of dimensions, based on mathematical ratios, gives pleasure. An exact cube; a double cube, or two cubes placed side by side; the ratios of aliquot parts each as 1 to 14,-as 20 feet high, 30 feet wide, and 45 feet long; or those of the base perpendicular and hypothenuse of a right-angled triangle, 3, 4, and 5, or their multiples, please the eye more than dimensions taken at random. Besides this, they are clearly better for hearing; but this is treated of under the head AcouSTICS.

The only remaining branch of the treatment of masses is that of symmetry or uniformity. The unreasonable straining after uniformity by architects of the past age, the sham doors and windows, and the unnatural contrivances to make everything balance, has driven people into a corresponding error in the present day. Many architects now go out of their way to make things irregular and unsymmetrical. Now this is a grave mistake, and, like the former error, arises entirely from the bigotted attachment to the study of one style to the exclusion of that of every other. This betrays men to the belief, that the true principles of architecture are to be found in one style only, and that the only way to arrive at truth is to be ignorant of half your profession. Some years back the architects thought the essence of classicality to be tameness, coldness, and sameness. To avoid these errors the media

That at

valists ran into the opposite extreme. It is because History. both have studied under limited views. The truth is, the ancients placed their buildings irregularly where it was reasonable to do so. The Propylæa at Athens, with the Temple of Victory, was of irregular composition. The Erectheium comprised three several buildings, each differing most materially in design, and each disposed as was most fitting, without any regard to the uniformity of the entire mass. The old Forum at Rome was a collection of buildings, temples, basilicas, atria, triumphal arches, each differing in style, character, and taste. Pompeii was the same. Just so it was with the mediæval buildings. The abbey had its church, chapterhouse, cloister, dormitory, refectory, guestern-house, abbot's and prior's chambers, all distinct buildings, and all grouped together. But it is utterly forgotten by the advocates for irregularity that each building was symmetrical in itself; that is to say, if a line were drawn down the middle of each one side would correspond with the other, just as in the case with a leaf, an animal, or with the human figure and face. While such instances of symmetry abound in nature; while irregularities, a nose askew, a mouth on one side, one eye, or one shoulder higher than another, are accounted deformities, in spite of the dictum of any sect, one great element of beauty will be found in symmetry. This, however, must not be set above utility or convenience. The best possible dictum on the subject is that of the great Lord Bacon, who says: "Houses are built to live in, and not to look on; therefore let use be preferred before uniformity, except where both may be had."

Another source of pleasure to the eye is the judicious in- Colour. troduction of colour. In all ages this has been freely used in interiors. In Jeremiah xxii. 14, we read of buildings "ceiled with cedar and painted with vermilion ;" and the temples of the Egyptians are richly decorated with colour. As long as Nature decks her landscapes with varied tints, as long as flowers and birds are covered with bright hues, so long will colour please in architecture.

It is clearly so in interiors, but it has been doubted whether external colouring is desirable. Some contend for local colour only, that is, the colour of the material. Thus, Mr Ferguson advocates the use of red brick against a green wood. Mr Repton, on the contrary, says, "A red brick house puts a landscape in a fever;" and demands that such houses should always be white, and gives diagrams, with overlays, to show the advantage of the latter. Öthers contend that the colour of the material itself should be varied in every possible way. Thus, some short time ago every building had horizontal bands, or stripes of colour on it, without any reason suggested by the construction. This fashion was then carried further, and brickwork was spotted over red, yellow, and black, in patterns so unartistic as to appear childish and petite. The former received the name of the "streaky bacon," or "holy zebra" style; the latter has not unaptly been called the "Tunbridge-ware style." The truth is, that form should always be the first consideration. Colour is but the handmaid of form. Like the graphic art, correct drawing will please in monochrome, while no colour can compensate for bad drawing. Still this is no reason why both may not be used, if employed with discretion.

Next to general beauty or grandeur of form, the eye de- Ornament. rives most pleasure from ornament in architectural work. Except in such cases where vases, or other similar ornaments or statues are placed on bases or pedestals, and used partly to make a sort of finish to the work, partly to break the sameness of long lines, and partly to show the elegance of the objects themselves, as we place works of art on our

History. chimney shelves, with these exceptions all ornament should be the decoration of constructive parts of the fabric. Ornament put up without meaning always provokes the remark, "What is this stuck up for? Or like the dialogue Canova supposed to have been held between himself and the screen of columns at old Carlton House,—

Ornament.

"Care colonne che fate quà?

Non sapiamo in verita!"

Ornament, no doubt, was originally derived from improvements upon, or finishings to the various parts of construction. The capital of a column has justly been supposed to be derived from the tile placed at the top of the trunk of the tree, or the upright prop which carried the architrave to keep the wet from running down the grain; while the necking is supposed to represent a ring put round to prevent the tree from splitting. In the like manner the triglyphs are supposed to have been channels cut in the ends of the beams carrying the ceilings, and which rest on cross beams which form the architraves. From a passage in the Odyssey, A. 128, the flutes in the columns are supposed to have been intended as places in which to rest the points of the spears; for Telemachus, on entering the house, goes up to a column and places his against it. Unless there were some channel to catch the point the weapon must have fallen down. The skulls of oxen, carved in the metopes of classic temples, were no doubt originally the actual skulls of the beasts which had been sacrificed, nailed up as memorials, and afterwards perpetuated in stone. Just so the festoons of wreaths of real leaves and flowers, which to this day are hung up before the fronts of churches abroad on great days, became fitting objects for the carver's skill in later times.

Ornament may be divided into two classes-mouldings and the sculptured representation of natural or fancied Mouldings. objects. Mouldings, no doubt, were derived, first, from the simply taking off the edge of anything that might be in the way, as the edge of a square post, then sinking the chamfer in hollows or various forms, and thence was derived the systems of mouldings we now find in all styles and periods. Each has its own system; and so well are these known, and so clearly is the difference understood, that a skilful architect will tell, not only the period in which any building has been erected, but will even give an idea of its probable size, as the professors of physiology will construct the animal from the examination of a single bone. In fact, mouldings are the comparative anatomy of architectural styles. Of course, like everything else in architecture, their use may be over-done; and, on the other hand, their absence or paucity betokens a poverty which is very unpleasing. They should, however, always be carefully studied. Nothing offends an educated eye like a confusion of mouldings. Roman circular forms in Greek work, or early English in that of the Tudor period, all are disagreeable, not only to the professor, but also to the ordinary spectator. He cannot tell you exactly why, but he feels there is something wrong, something incongruous, and is disappointed accordingly.

Sculptured The same remarks also apply to sculptured ornaments. rnament. They should not be too numerous nor too few, and, above all, they should be consistent. The carved ox skulls, which are appropriate in the temple of Vesta at Tivoli, or that of Fortuna Virilis at Rome, would be very incongruous on a Christian church; while saints and angels would appear out of place on an arsenal gateway. No rules can be laid down further than general hints what to avoid; the rest must be left to the common sense and good taste of the student. It may be well, however, to say, that ornament should always be architectural in character. That style of carving which indulges in prominent projections, extravagant scrolls, and grotesque work, is very properly called "plate

resque," or silversmith's work, by the Spaniards, because it History. resembles the magnified designs for jugs, tankards, &c. We must also remember, that when a building is covered with ornament of this kind, it loses all its architectural effect; the architect, in truth, does but make, as it were, a frame for the artist to exhibit his work in.

A third sort of ornament is a mixture of the moulding Enriched and the carved work, and is commonly called enriched mouldings. moulding. Of these, the most usual are the egg and tongue (plate 8, ovolo), leaf and tongue (ib. cyma reversa), and the reel and bead (ib. bead). These are to a great degree conventional. The enrichments in the Gothic mouldings (Plates XXXIII. et seq.) are partly imitative of natural objects, as cords, &c., and partly heraldric. Mediæval mouldings are very varied in character, and show great fancy and love of beauty. Having traced the main divisions of the art, and the qualifications necessary to the architect, we proceed now to treat of its origin.

Origin of Architecture.

The necessity for obtaining frequent shelter from the Shelter. great heat, or from the inclemency of the climate, no doubt first suggested the piling up materials in some form to effect this purpose. Shelter was perhaps readily found in some wood, and in rocky countries in some cavern; but as it was necessary, particularly for pastoral tribes, to inhabit plains where there were neither groves nor caves, that which at first was a protection afforded by nature was imitated by a sort of rude art. Branches of trees were no doubt carried into the open country, and there piled up, so that the shepherd might creep under and find shelter from the sun's heat or the chilling storm. On the wild moors, where there are no trees, and where the ground is covered with scattered fragments of rock, the remembrance of the natural caverns no doubt suggested the piling up stones in such form as to be a protection against the elements, just as shepherds do in the present day; and thus, as a distinguished writer has said, "the wigwam became a hut, and the hut a house." Where trees abounded, stone probably was the last material used, as it would entail so much more labour than timber; but of course it was soon found stone had two great advantages-it would neither burn nor rot; so that it soon had the preference for all durable purposes. Where there were many trees, as in Greece and in Lycia, the stone architecture exhibits traces of the original timber construction. As has already been said, the columns were originally posts, and the architraves and triglyphs beams resting on each other. The famous Lycian tomb in the British Museum is also a strong proof that the art of the carpenter there preceded that of the mason, and suggested forms which became conventional, and from which the latter could not venture to depart. On the contrary, in the plains of Egypt, where building timber is scarce, and where there is abundance of large stone in the mountains, the mason element seems to prevail. In such plains as those on which Nineveh and Babylon stood, a factitious stone was made, first by lumps of dried, and then, advancing a step, of burnt clay. In the vast sandy deserts, where there are neither trees nor stones, the skins of beasts, sewed together and supported by sticks, was the earliest shelter. This soon grew into the tent, and its form still influences the architecture of the Chinese and Tartars. There has been much time expended on endeavours to prove which of the two materials, timber or stone, first gave birth to the art of architecture; the truth probably is, that the hut, the cairn, and the tent, all contributed their share in their respective countries.

Monumental Architecture must have originated in a de- Monumensire to commemorate important events, such as the death of tal archigreat men; hence we may suppose that the first considera- tecture