feet high and almost exactly equal to the total length.
As there is no architectural style peculiar to the nineteenth century in any of the lands occupied by Europeans, it is inevitable that the greater number of modern buildings should be more or less completely suggested by the fine art of the time when there was a style of interest and of individual character. Very few are the nineteenth century buildings which are absolutely without such suggestion. At the same time there are a certain number in which only a general study of ancient art is visible, and it is of these that our tenth chapter treats.
CHAPTER X
NINETEENTH CENTURY: ORIGINAL DESIGN
THE work of Henry Hobson Richardson may be named as a noticeably intelligent attempt to regain the lost excellence of an ancient style without copying it closely. This appreciation has to do only with his buildings of the years from 1875 to a short time before his early death in 1886. He studied deliberately the Romanesque architecture of the middle and south of France, and as the elaborate sculpture of human subject, so common in the churches of that style, would not have been practicable in America in the nineteenth century, he developed, with the assistance of certain American sculptors, a semi-Byzantine system of foliated design which adapted itself well to his arched porticoes and his elaborate interior compositions of woodwork. Other lands than France were visited and their treasures put to use: thus, the central tower and the general grouping of the masses in his celebrated design, Trinity Church in Boston, Massachusetts (see Plate LVIII), are evidently studied from a Spanish original. This is well shown in the illustration named, which shows the church as Richardson left it. The tower on the extreme left has been replaced by the accessories of the new west porch.
Now in such a design as this we have to separate that which is frankly copied and that which is of independent design. Thus, the inlay of different colored stones, so marked in the apse, and in a simpler way in the transept, on the left of the picture, is taken directly from churches of Auvergne. The question, then, would be whether, the idea of a mosaic on a large scale being once adopted, the design furnished is a good one for the place. Such designs are almost common property: they float around the world and every designer has his mind stored with them: the question is not of originality in combining a star with some zigzags, but rather of providing a pattern of just the right size and character to fill the given spot, as well as to have an independent beauty of its own. The great central tower, studied probably from the cathedral of Salamanca in Spain, is evidently open to question as to whether it is sufficiently massive in appearance. There is to many persons an appearance as if the stone work were composed of too many and too slight colonnettes, lintels, arches, and the rest, involving the use of a great number of small stones, laid up not in a massive wall but in a slighter and more exposed fashion, not a skeleton, but suggesting the idea of something very open to the weather. The Spanish originals have somewhat the same effect but it is less marked in the old buildings and with them it is not combined with that mosaic of different colored stones which, although the practiced builder knows it to be superficial merely, yet gives to most spectators a feeling as if the wall were not solidly laid up. The building is certainly faulty in lacking the appearance of ponderosity. Seen through a haze or by dim light it is a noble composition, the forms exquisitely balanced, the central tower perfectly well marking its place and its structure. It is not until the building is seen in a brilliant light and its detailed effect begins to tell upon its general masses that any exception can be taken to its merit as a general central tower. That the lack of solidity in appearance may be the more clearly understood, it is well to compare with the church itself the porch which was built long after Richardson’s death, though avowedly according to his general design. This porch, though a small structure, has a massiveness in all its parts, which the church has been said to lack. The sculpture is also especially noteworthy as being full of that mediæval feeling which forced even the carefully modelled human figure, with elaborate drapery, into the service of the architectural design; while still the modelling has that anatomical truth which modern school-taught generations require.
The conclusion is, with regard to this church, that we are free to judge of it as an independent design once we have cleared away some few doubts of archæological accuracy: once it is established that the designer has felt at liberty to take a general form of his central tower from impressions received in Spain, while many of the details are taken almost bodily from the heart of France, the rest is to be accepted, as also the adaptation and working-in of the borrowed details, as a design well adapted to the requirements of the building, to its place in an open and uncrowded site where the building stands free on every side, and to its material, a sandstone, not very fine nor very hard. It is one of the best designs in the picturesque fashion which modern times have seen.
A similar piece of bold adaptation to an ancient style is seen in Truro Cathedral (Plate LIX) in Cornwall, begun about 1880. No person who has lived among English cathedrals could ever mistake this building for a design of the Middle Ages; and yet
its character as a Gothic structure is perfectly maintained. It is to be judged, then, as an ancient Gothic building is to be judged. One asks whether the system of vaulting with ribs, and a filling or shell of light stone work between the ribs, is supported and resisted in the best and most economical way by the system of buttressing, and whether this system of buttressing without, and the system of vaulting within, are equally expressed in the artistic design. The fact that the modern building cannot be allowed the cost of much architectural sculpture in its exterior, though unfortunate, cannot be urged as a serious defect, in view of the fact that the English mediæval churches have but little sculpture as compared with those of the Continent, their adornment being concentrated more generally upon the West front, or parts of the interior.
If now we try to call to mind some building inspired, on the whole, by classical taste and the classical spirit of design, but showing also independence and a strictly modern conception, we shall find that the search is not a rewarding one. There are few modern buildings in which the classic orders are used at all, or in which classic details have been carefully studied, without what seems to be a strict adherence to recognized types of classic or neo-classic general design. The Greek who was building oblong temples, very strictly limited to a given number of columns and a given slope of roof, might still group small shrines as they are grouped in the Erectheum; and he, the Greek designer, generally careful of his Orders, may substitute for his columns a row of draped statues with perfect success. The designers of imperial Rome, dealing with dwelling houses, all on one floor, with columned courtyards and covered porticoes surrounding gardens open to the sky, were still capable of building on the side of a cliff and in the Imperial City, too, and producing a house three stories high on one side and one story on the other—handling their semi-Greek and semi-Italian details with perfect ease and nearly perfect grace, and investing the whole with a consistent scheme of ornament. The modern designer in the classical styles will not do that very often. In the first place, he will have studied only the grandiose buildings of antiquity, the great temples and porticoes with their minutely accurate symmetry of plan: and in the second place, he will have conceived of the modern use of classic forms as being, on the whole, a simple thing, easy to the naturally gifted designer. The one thing which the modern workman in classic styles expects to get from his building is refinement of proportion, reaching on the one side towards dignity and on the other side towards grace. Now, to one who is naturally strong in such things, the obtaining of these beauties of proportion is an easy thing: it is achieved or it is not achieved in the course of a very few hours of preparation and study of the problem. It is hardly conceivable that a modern adept in the classical system of design should think much of detail except as to the accurate copying of sculpture and of the curvature of mouldings from ancient examples.
In mediæval styles, we moderns study the small town house, the humble parish church, with its squat tower and plain windows without tracery, as well as the great cathedral, typical of the style and embodying its full character. Of classical antiquity there were no such things to study, during the years when the modern feeling for classical art took shape; nor have there been until the present day many opportunities for judging of the smaller and simpler designs. And therefore we take from classical art mainly its colonnades, its stately use of the three great Orders of Greco-Roman antiquity, with a very few of their slighter modifications. Those buildings of the great days of the empire in which no columnar adornment existed, we have hardly learned to respect—we still look upon them as exceptions hardly worthy of the attention of one who would study the great arts of antiquity. Now it appears to one who will study the past closely and fearlessly, that the Romans themselves were a little overawed by their system of columnar architecture, and were slow to abandon or even modify it during the long centuries of its constant application to the diverse needs of the old Mediterranean world. Still more are we moderns overawed by the columns and entablatures, so that we dare not play with them: and yet, how can you hope to design if you are afraid to play with the members of your composition? The taste of the American communities, our great cities within the borders of the United States, is markedly for that kind of gravity which we associate with the classical styles—with the few large openings, the horizontal cornices, the low-pitched or invisible roofs, the smooth white, or light colored, surfaces of unbroken simplicity, the carefully studied classical colonnade. The taste of similar communities in England is as evidently based upon a long familiarity with the picturesque forms of the Middle Ages and of the Elizabethan and earlier Jacobean styles, that is to say, of so much of the Renaissance as reached England before the foundation, by Inigo Jones, of the Italian semi-classical style in that country. Similar to this is the feeling in Germany: for it is most surprising to Americans living, as they have done since 1880, in a time of almost complete agreement among the architects as to the unique and solitary importance of Italian neo-classic methods of design, to see the numerous German publications teem with studies of sixteenth century half timbered fronts, of seventeenth century stepped gables and turrets crowned with “extinguishers,” and of eighteenth century florid modifications of the rococo style. In France there is an orthodox style, a recognized style: and yet it is in France that the most seriously considered departures from that style have been made.
The difficulty of expressing in words this complication of architectural thought is very great. The English designers are in one sense the most original of all, for they follow less closely in the general arrangements of the mass, or of the street front, the example set by former ages. In Germany, such indifference to what the past has taught is more seldom seen, and when seen, it takes, most generally, an ugly form of unrestrained fancy, guided neither by tradition nor by strong over-ruling good taste. In France, good taste is rather the rule. As in literature, so in all departments of fine art, the fault of the French work is in the desire not to be rash in the way of innovation, and good taste is always ready to instruct its votaries to follow the path marked out by the men who have just passed by in the human procession and who had needs to supply quite like those of the present day.
It will be well to rehearse these conclusions in the immediate presence of special examples. Plate LX is an apartment house in that region of West London which is just northwest of Kensington Gardens. It is not a costly building in proportion to its size; it is not adorned by sculpture except for an unimportant piece above the large arches of the entrance front and slight adornment of the frontons; it is built of brick with stone moderately used for the purpose of color-contrast, and its architectural ordonnance is limited to the marshalling of a certain number of pilasters supporting the simulacra of entablatures and the reality of very obvious pediments—these, and a tower well enough shaped and placed at the angle. And the point that the student should make at once in looking upon such a building is that it is so decidedly removed from the world of obvious copying. Nothing is copied except a detail here and there. One has the pleasant conviction that not a square yard of space has been sacrificed nor a square foot of possible or desirable window space abandoned for the purpose of archæological verity or the repute of having built something beautiful in a recognized style. So in the case of the building shown in Plate LXI, that planned for the West Ham Institute and built about 1895 in that suburban village which lies just north of “Woolwich Reach” on the Thames. The design is as independent of
any past style as in the simpler and more commercial building. There is much sculpture, rather carefully designed and cut with great brilliancy. There is a rather free use of pseudo-classic columns and colonnettes; there is a daring combination of larger architectural details, such as gables of cut stone with rounded outline, capped with bold drip moulds, pinnacle-towers wrought into niches with statuary, a porch of entrance with a very boldly projecting hood, well handled, with caryatid figures, a staircase tower with a cut stone attic of great merit, and ventilation towers combined with the roof structure and differentiated finely from the masonry-built forms near them. It is a costly building, a refined and thought-out design; and yet one cannot say that there is anything of the past in it more than this—that it is based upon the spirit and taste of the Renaissance rather than upon that of the classic epoch, or of the mediæval epoch, early or late, or of the Post-Renaissance epoch, beginning in the North about 1650. This relative independence is what the foreigner sees most strongly in modern English architectural practice.
Now, in German lands, there is a little less freshness of artistic thought; the artist is always in the presence of the great past, in such a way that even his deviations from its spirit are self-conscious in a way; and this feeling it is which drives the daring designer—the man who would be original and who asks us to sympathize with his manly desire to build for the nineteenth century what the nineteenth century needs, not what a former century made for itself—to very strange vagaries. Plate LXII is one of the best of these dashing attempts at novelty. Every part of the wall-surface is occupied with painting in neutral colors, which painting is in some cases reinforced by reliefs in plaster. It is not a polychromatic design, but a design in light and shade wrought into emblematic, armorial, purely decorative, and even representative forms. It is noticeable that the realized painting of human figures and accessories, so marked a feature of the ground story, with its splendid King Gambrinus at the left, and the Lady Hopfen at the right, stops with the sill-course, and that the rest of the painting is much more abstract and conventional. Apart from the painting, the design is somewhat commonplace in its main masses; though that statement is unfair as it stands, because it was not intended to be seen without the painting, while the details, as of the window jambs and mullions, are very carefully wrought and very interesting. It is only above the eaves that the design becomes commonplace, and even there it is redeemed by the very bold fire wall on each side broken into gable-steps of unusual design.
In this inquiry we are taking smaller buildings as more likely to express the general thought of the community than are those exceptional monuments which form landmarks in history. We are compelled, of course, to select the designs of men who are famous, however unknown they may have been when the buildings we select were put into shape: but even the work of such renowned architects as Charles Garnier shows and explains the general trend of thought, especially when seen in their earlier tasks. Thus, the building shown in Plate LXIII, the Club-house of the Cercle de la Librairie, which was completed about 1880, shows the exceptional merit (exceptional in modern cities) of the Paris fronts, together with their comparative lack of significance, at least in detail. The entrance on the corner and the round tower forming a vestibule below and an admirable card-room above, are characteristic of Paris streets. Straight from this doorway, and, therefore, diagonally to both the fronts, goes a passageway into a staircase which forms another round tower-like structure. In the upper story, the large room at the left is a billiard room, that on the right, a salon of reception and entertainment, the “conversation room” of the club. All this is perfectly well expressed in the external design: and that credit—the credit of that sort of realism always restrained and always
guided by good taste, is to be given without reserve to the French designers of the long years beginning with 1860. Good taste is visible everywhere, not in an exceptional measure in this building; on the contrary, it is to be thought by a careful student of the street fronts of Paris that there is a relative clumsiness which other and less noticeable buildings have escaped: but there is everywhere the visible presence of thought—of matured study of the problem, and that is a thing so rare in the modern architecture of other lands that we are never brought face to face with the French instances of its active presence without a new thrill of admiration.
In the United States, some of the most thoughtful buildings have been those inspired by the semi-Spanish style of the provinces torn from Mexico in 1848; the missions of California and New Mexico. Inspired by those blessings of a temperate region, a steady warmth, a brilliant sun, they are most assuredly: and yet there is originality, so much as to cause the student almost to forget the origin of their design in such work of the not very famous past. Such buildings are the hotels built in Saint Augustine about 1885—the Ponce de Leon, in which the architecture of old Spain has been studied more carefully, the Alcazar, where the simpler appliances of Western America are more in evidence.
One of the best things in modern original design is the building shown in plate LXIV. Its treatment is picturesque rather than severe; and a sufficient reason for that treatment is the recognized difficulty of applying the classically simple method of design to one of the modern high and narrow buildings of many stories and of many, similar, window-openings. The walls of the side, on the by-street and on the court, are diminished by the adoption of a roof of abnormally steep pitch with two stories in it. The two gable-walls are broken, as a result of the same device, by the beginning of the slope or step inward of the gable itself. In this way the use of a great many windows all of the same size is made practicable; the slight differences in design, as where one story has a row of round arches, and the like, are perhaps even more marked than was essential; the monotonous repetition of these openings is prevented from hurting the design by the very picturesqueness of that design, which overcomes their monotony. The treatment of the two gables themselves is a remarkable achievement, securing, as it does, a vivacity which we associate with the Renaissance of the North: while it is still restrained in such a way as not to clash with the extreme refinement of the porch of entrance, which in its general design, as in its sculptured details, has the delicate and subtile quality of the art of Italy a hundred years before.
This is, it appears, the way in which modern men might design; and this is the way in which they might succeed if they were able, more often, to give personal thought to the matter of design. It is obvious, however, that this giving of personal thought is exactly the most difficult thing which can be proposed to a twentieth century architect. He must do everything else first. He must see that the heating apparatus, the ventilating apparatus, the electrical lighting, the ventilating system, the cooking appliances, which will come in somewhere, the plumbing, which will come in everywhere, and the endless modifications of drainage—he must see that all that is faultless. The owner, or owners, really care about those things—they do not care about the design. Then he must see to it that no time is lost. From the moment when the previous tenants move out and tearing down of the old structure has begun there must not elapse too many weeks before the new tenants may move in. Ten months may be allowed; when every consideration demands two years and a half, or thirty months. And throughout the few weeks before and after the beginning of that ten-months’ space, the architect employed will have so very little opportunity to “retire into himself”—to retire at least into his study and lock the door and think out that design, taken in its artistic sense, that the hours so given are hardly to be reckoned with, at all. Uninterrupted thought is not for the busy architect. The altogether likely sequence of things will be this—that the design is sketched in a drawing-room car and turned over next day to a high-paid subordinate to work out according to the well-known office scheme.
Such traditional ways of doing have proved good in the great days of art: but the nineteenth century was not, and the twentieth century is not as yet certain to be a great day of art in the decorative or artistic sense. It becomes the writer on architecture to treat those two adjectives as synonymous, for in architecture they are synonymous; and the decorative, or in other words, the architectural treatment of a building has grown to be so foreign to our habits, and, from the nature of the case, so difficult (as urged in the last paragraph), that nothing but long-continued and enthusiastic thinking over the scheme will conduce to fine designing.
It is for these reasons that the building of the New York Life Insurance Company at St. Paul has been shown in our final plate. There seems to be evidence there of much and of well applied artistic thought. If a similar instance be sought in the older homes of art, and among more costly structures, the Roman Catholic Cathedral of London, now approaching completion in the district south of Buckingham Palace, may be chosen as such an instance. A few such buildings there are; a few works of art which show that the power of thoughtfully working out a complex design is not wholly lost to the world.
Index.
A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, L, M, N, O, P, R, S, T, V, W.
A.
Abbeville: Church of S. Wulfrau, 126
Aisle (def.), (note) 54
Ægina: Sculptures from Greek Temple, at, 179
Aix-la-Chapelle: Cathedral, 85
Albi: Cathedral, 128
Amiens: Cathedral, Exterior, 102
Amiens: Cathedral, Interior, 96
Angoulême: Cathedral, 83
Anthemion (def.), (note) 37
Apse (def.), (note) 76
Arch, discharging, 57
Arch, flat, replacing lintel, 57
Architrave (def.), (note) 20
Archivolt (def.), (note) 135
Artists of the classical revival, (ff) 131
Athens: Choragic Monument of Lysicrates, 40
Athens: Church of St. Theodore, 86, 90
Athens: Erectheum, 35, 39, 198
Athens: Parthenon, 14
Athens: Restored model of Parthenon, 26
Athens: Sculptures of Parthenon, 28
Athens: “Portico of the Maidens”, 37
Athens: Temple of Victory, 39
Athens: Theseion, 14
Audenarde: Town Hall, 127
Augustan Roman Art, 47
B.
Barbaric art not unintelligent, 84
Baroque, 167
Barrel-vault (def.), (note) 54
Basilica (def.), (note), 71, 74, 76
Bay (def.), (note) 77
Bell (def.), (note) 23
Benevento: Arch of Trajan, 48, 57
Berlin (Prussia) decorative house front, 206
Blois: Château, Wing of Louis XII, 145
Blois: Château (Wing of François I.), 145
Boston (Mass.): Trinity Church, 193
Porch of that Church, 195
Bourg-en-Bresse: Ch. of Brou, 124
Bourges: Cathedral, 31
Budroun (Halicarnassos): Tomb of Mausolus, 58
Buttress (def.), (note) 82
Byzantine (def.), (note) 69
Byzantine Architecture, 69, 87
C.
Cambridge: King’s College Chapel, 121
Centralbau (centred building), (ff) 84
Chaîne (def.), (note) 146
Chartres: Cathedral, 105
Chevet (def.), (note) 103
Choir (def.), (note) 32
Choragic (def.), (note) 40
Church Architecture predominant, (ff) 70
Classical Architecture, only the more stately buildings studied in modern times, 197-199
Classical Revival in Italy, 131
the same affecting Architecture, (ff) 133, (ff) 143
Classicismo (def.), (note) 141
Clearstory (def.), (note) 74
Cologne: Ch. Gross St. Martin, 77, 79
Cologne: Church of The Holy Apostles, 79
Cologne: Church of St. Gereon, 85
Color, external decoration in, (ff) 193
Columnar architecture in Roman interiors, 53
overawes designer, 200
Constantinople: Church of Santa Sophia, Exterior, 88
Constantinople: Church of Santa Sophia, Interior, 88
Constantinople: The Hebdomon palace, 70
Constructional origin of design less marked after 1400 A.D., 118
Corinthian (def.), (note) 39
Coupled columns, 141, 172
Cupola (def.), (note) 51
Curvature in Greek horizontal lines, 21
D.
Decadence in Art; its true nature, (ff) 159
Decorative Art (def.), (note) 13
Design as suggested by structure and purpose, 31, 34, 187-188
Detail, inferior, injuring a good mass, 164, 169, 171
Doncaster (Yorkshire), Church of, 189
Doric (def.), (note) 14
Doric Order (def.), (note) 19
E.
Écouen: Château, 149
Egg & Dart (def.), (note) 37
Eleusis: The Telesterion, 33
English building in the 16th century, 150
Entablature (def.), (note) 18
Entasis, 22
Epidaurus: Temple of Asclepios (restored façade), 26
Epidaurus: The Tholos, 39
European Art founded upon Roman, 55
F.
Fan vaulting, 116, 120
Fashion governs architecture except in the great original styles, 165, (ff) 168
Florence: Baptistery, 85
Florence: Campanile, 111
Florence: Cathedral, 96
Florence: Church of San Miniato al Monte, 74
Florence: Chapel of the Pazzi (Ch. of Santa Croce), 134
Florence: Loggia dei Lanzi, 132
Florence: Palazzo dei Medici, 137
Florence: Palazzo Pitti, 137
Florence: Palazzo Rucellai, 137
Florence: Palazzo Strozzi, 137
Florid Gothic a new style, 115
its nature and epoch, (ff) 116
its origin not constructional, 117
in civic buildings, 127-145
Flying Buttress (def.), (note) 82
Frieze (def.), (note) 20
G.
Gelnhausen: Palace of Barbarossa, 70
Genoa: Ducal Palace, 172
Gerasa (Jerash), Syria, 60
Gloucester: Cloisters of Cathedral, 120
Gothic Architecture, 70
Gothic Architecture analysis and dates as in Amiens Cathedral, (ff) 98
Gothic Architecture constructional in origin, 93, 99, 101, 103, 117, 118, 124
Gothic Architecture Details as in Reims Cathedral, (ff) 101
Gothic Architecture: English contrasted with French, 108
Gothic Architecture: Exterior design as exemplified in Chartres, 105
Gothic Architecture: Geographical limitations of, 95-96
Gothic Architecture not strong in Italy, 96
Gothic large churches generally incomplete, 107
Gothic Vaulting, 93, 94
Greek buildings: Their simple plan, 32, 56
Greek buildings: Their simple structure, 33, 56
Greek buildings: Modern opinion of, when first discovered and later, 44-45
Groin-vaulting (def.), (note) 51
H.
Hall, the, of a Country House, or College, 152
Hellenic civilization preserved by the Roman Empire, 67-68
Hexastyle (def.), (note) 18
Hypæthral (def.), (note) 42
I.
Imitative 19th century work—accurate, (ff) 182
—inaccurate, (ff) 182
In antis (def.), (note) 62
Independent judgment of art, how formed, 11-12
Inlay of Marble, 76
Intercolumniation, why varied, 17-18, 21
Interior, architecture of the, originates with the Romans, 52
Intrados (def.), (note) 135
Ionic (def.), (note) 35
L.
London: Middle-Temple Hall, 152
London: Recent Apartment House, 203
London: Westminster Abbey, Chapel of Henry VII, 121
London: Westminster Hall (roof), 152
Louvain: Town Hall, 116
Lucca: Church of San Frediano, 77
M.
Masonry, Roman, 50
Masonry with dry joints, ch. I, II, 56
Masonry with mortar, 50
Mayence (Mainz): Cathedral, 82
Metope (def.), (note) 17
Milan: Church of Sant’ Ambrogio, 77
Modern Design:
English the freest, 202
French the most tasteful, 203, 208
German marked by innovations, 206
How marked by thought in U. S., 209, 210
How marked by thought in England, 214
why made difficult, 212
Modern Taste in the U. S.—in England, 201
in Germany, in France, 202
Mohammedan Architecture, 70
Monreale: Cathedral, 77, 96
Mosaic, 76
Munich: Allerheiligenhofkirche, 180
Munich: Auer-Kirche (Mariahilf-Kirche), 181
Munich: Basilica of St. Boniface, 181
Munich: Church of All Saints (see Ch. of Allerheiligenhofkirche).
Munich: Church of St. Boniface (Basilica), 181
Munich: Church of St. Louis, (see Ludwigskirche).
Munich: Church of The Theatiner Monks, 162
Munich: Exhibition Building, 185
Munich: Glyptothek, 180-185
Munich: Königsbau, southern front, 180
Munich: Ludwigskirche, 179
Munich: Pinakothek, the old, 180
Munich: Post Office, north front, 180
Munich: Propylæa, 186
Munich: Royal Library, 180
Munich: Royal Palace (see Königsbau).
Munich: Ruhmeshalle, 181
N.
Naos (def.), (note) 18
Nave (def.), (note) 53
Neo-classic (def.), (note) 32
Neo-classic architecture begins to decline in less than a century, 159
O.
Octastyle (def.), (note) 18
Olympia: Temple of Zeus, 26, 29
Orders of columnar architecture, the Roman use of them, 56
Orvieto: Cathedral, 94
P.
Pæstum: Temple, 14, 24, 29
Painting of Greek buildings, 24
Palazzo, the, in Florence, 137
Palazzo, the, in Rome, 138
Palermo: Cathedral, 77
Pandrosion (def.), (note) 38
Parenzo (in Istria): Basilica (8th century), 77
Paris: Buildings on Place de la Concorde, 174
Paris: Cathedral, 31
Paris: Cercle de la Librairie, 208
Paris; École Militaire, 173
Paris: Louvre (east front), 141
Parma: Baptistery, 85
Parthenon (Athens), 14, 26, 28
Pavia: Church of San Michaele, 77
Pediment (def.), (note) 28
Peterborough: Vault of Choir-aisle of Cathedral, 120
Pilaster in ancient and modern works, 135, 137
Pisa: Baptistery, 85
Poitiers: Tower of St. Radegonde, 83
Poitiers: Church of Notre Dame la Grande, 83
Portico of the Maidens (Caryatides), 36-37
Priene (in Asia Minor): Temple of Athena Polias, 43
Proportion varied in Greek art, 19-20, 29-30
Cathedral, (ff) 102, 105
Pteroma (def.), (note) 17, 27
Purpose of the artist, the important thing, 16
R.
Ravenna: Baptistery, 84
Ravenna: Basilica of St. Apollinare Nuovo, 77
Ravenna: Basilica of St. Apollinare in Classe, 77
Refinements of Design (see Curvature, Intercolumniation, Slope).
Reims: Cathedral, 31, 101
Renaissance in Italy; (see Classical Revival, Risorgimento).
Renaissance in the North, cause and dates, 144
Renaissance in art at first not classic, (ff) 145
Renaissance introduced gradually, 148
Renaissance classical at Écouen, 149
Respond (def.), (note) 75
Revivals in architecture numerous, 176
Revivals, those only which succeed are notable, 177
Revivals, those of the 19th century did not succeed, 179, 184
Risorgimento (def.), (note) 46
Rocaille (def.), (note) 168
Roman Art of the Empire, 47
Roman changes in Greek design, 56
Roman Empire, intellectual influence, 66-67
Roman Empire, its divergent influence East and West, 66-68
Romanesque (def.), (note) 69
Romanesque Architecture, (ff) 69, 74, 77
Roman Order, the, 139
Rome: Altar of Peace (Arar Pacis), 66
Rome: Basilica of Maxentius, 53
Rome: Basilica of Septa Julia, 53
Rome: Church of S. Maria Maggiore, 72
Rome: Church of S. Maria della Pace Cloister, 141
Rome: Church of San Pietro in Vaticano, 154
Rome: Church (round) San Stefano, 85
Rome: Column of Trajan, 63
Rome: Courtyard of the Cancellaria, 138
Rome: Double Temple of Venus and Rome, 53
Rome: Forum of Nerva, Enclosing Wall, 60
Rome: Forum of Trajan, 47
Rome: Forum Transitorium of Nerva, 60
Rome: Liberian Basilica, (see St. Maria Maggiore).
Rome: Palatine Hill, Dwellings on, 53
Rome: Palazzo Borghese, 141
Rome: Palazzo di Venezia, interior court, 138
Rome: Temple of Antoninus Pius, 48
Rome: Temple of Augustus (Ruined), 49
Rome: Temple of Castor, 48, 49
Rome: Temple of Mars, 49
Rome: Temple of Mars the Avenger (in the Forum of Augustus), 48
Rome: Temple of Minerva, 60
Rome: Temple of Saturn, 48
Rome: Temple of Trajan, 62
Rome: Temple of Vespasian, 48
Rome: Temple of Vespasian, part of Entablature, 57
Rome: Pantheon, 47, 49, 50, 51, 133
Rome: Ulpian Basilica, 53, 62
Ruins not to be judged as works of art, 14, 15
Russia: (Caucasus) Monastery of Gelati near Kutais, 90
S.
Saint Augustine (Florida) Hotel Alcazar, 210
Saint Augustine (Florida) Hotel Ponce de Leon, 210
St. Paul (Minnesota), Building of New York Life Insurance Co., 214
Salamanca: University portal, 116
Salisbury: Cathedral, 108
Saracen: (see Mohammedan).
Screen, the, of a hall, 152-3
Sculpture, architectural, in Doric buildings, 36
Sculpture, architectural, in Ionic buildings, 36
Sculpture, architectural, in Roman buildings, 57
Sculpture, architectural, feeble in 18th century, (see Romanesque Gothic), 172
Sculpture, architectural, foliated, 19th century, 192
Sculpture, architectural, of the figure, 19th century, 195
Siena: Cathedral, 96
Slope of Grecian columns, 22
Standard of Excellence hard to fix, 30-31
Stylobate (def.), (note) 21
Sunion: Temple of Athena, 29
T.
Tetrapylon (four fronted gateway), 59
Thermæ (def.), (note) 112
Tholos (def.), (note) 39
Tournai: Cathedral, 78
Tournai: Tower-group, 82
Trabeated (def.) (note), 64
Triforium (def.) (note), 97
Troyes: Church of Saint Urbain, 160
Truro, (Cornwall, England) Cathedral, 196
Turin: Palazzo Carignano, 169
Turin: Palazzo Madama, 171
V.
Valencia: Casa Lonja, 116
Valhalla, The, (near Ratisbon, Bavaria), 181
Valladolid: Portal of Church of St. Paul, 116
Vaulting, 50-51
Vaulting, Roman, 50
Venice: Church of San Marco, 92
Verona: Church of San Zeno, 77
W.
West Ham (Essex), England, West Ham Institute, 204
Windsor Castle, St. George’s Chapel, 121
Wollaton Hall, England, 151
Workmanship of Greek buildings, 24