Transcriber’s Note
When italics were used in the original book, the corresponding text has
been surrounded by _underscores_. Superscripted letters are preceded by
^ and when more than one character is superscripted, the characters are
surrounded by {}.
Some corrections have been made to the printed text. These are listed in
a second transcriber’s note at the end of the text.
[Illustration:
A. B. Clayton del. from Sketches by J. Woods.
ARCH AT ORANGE.
_London. Published by J & A Arch. May 1^{st}. 1828._]
LETTERS
OF AN
ARCHITECT,
FROM
FRANCE, ITALY, AND GREECE.
BY
JOSEPH WOODS, F.A.S. F.L.S. F.G.S.
AND CORRESPONDING MEMBER
OF THE SOCIETY OF GEORGOFILI AT FLORENCE.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR
JOHN AND ARTHUR ARCH, 61, CORNHILL.
1828.
PREFACE.
MANY books of travels in the south of Europe have been published; some
of them written by men of talents and information, who were attached to
the fine arts, and to architecture as one of them; and many professional
works treating on the architecture of Italy and Greece, of greater or
less excellence, have been given to the world; but I do not know that
there is any one in which the author, after examining the most
celebrated edifices of ancient and modern times, endeavours to explain
to what circumstances they owe their power of pleasing; and what are to
be considered as defects, tending to diminish that power. The subject
has been slightly and incidentally touched upon by more than one
traveller, but not treated with that care and detail which it deserves.
To the architect, it is of the greatest importance: it is no less than
the knowledge of what he is to shun, and what to imitate; by what
different modes of building he can produce the same effects, or how, by
methods nearly similar, he can produce different effects. In short, in
what manner, with means always in some degree limited, either by the
nature of the material to be employed, the customs of the country, the
expense, or the taste or no taste of the employer, he can produce
BEAUTY. The plans and details of a great many edifices have been
measured with care, and published with considerable accuracy; and
knowing the original building to be beautiful, we copy, and re-copy its
parts, without considering whether all the particulars conduce to the
same harmonious effect, or whether those forms which please under
certain circumstances, may not displease in others: nor are we entirely
free from the danger of neglecting that character and propriety of
ornament, on which the beauty of the whole must in some measure depend.
In all the fine arts, but particularly in architecture, the eye is
frequently pleased without our being able to explain why; and this _why_
has sometimes escaped in the drawings and measures which have been
published of the edifices. This connexion of cause and effect is then
the great end and object of the architect; the completion and
consummation of his studies; and this it is the object of the author of
the present work to explain, as far as his abilities and opportunities
will admit. The sentiment of wanting such guidance on his own part,
first incited him to make the attempt, and the frequent observation of
how little the student in architecture, on first setting out on his
travels, knows how, or what he is to study, has encouraged him to
persevere. He wishes to shew that the young architect has a more
important task to perform, than that of measuring and re-measuring what
has been a thousand times measured: a task requiring much more mental
exertion, and conducing in a much higher degree to his future
excellence. The first place in the art is still unoccupied. The ancients
had a Phidias, excellent alike in sculpture and architecture; but the
moderns have certainly yet produced no one, who can occupy in
architecture, the lofty eminence which Raphael does in painting.
This general and enlarged view of the subject will also, he flatters
himself, be not without its use and interest amongst amateurs. The
uneducated man judges by his feelings; the half educated by rule. He who
is thoroughly master of the subject returns again to his feelings, but
to feelings trained and purified by study and reflection: and this
training of the mind to a true taste for what is good and beautiful, is
an employment exceedingly pleasant in itself, and conducing to that
perfection of the intellect, which it is the object of every man to
attain. A person who thus criticizes every fine building which he sees,
without vanity or presumption, with a sincere desire to find out
whatever is excellent, and to understand, and fully enter into, the
reasons for any admiration which has been generally bestowed upon it by
others, yet at the same time not blindly following authority, but
bringing everything to the test of his own feelings and judgment, will
form to himself a habit, profitable not only when applied to
architecture, and the other fine arts, but in every subject on which the
human understanding is exercised.
The following work will be found to be composed, almost entirely, of
observations on the principal buildings which occurred to the author in
his route through France, Italy, and a small part of Greece. Yet, though
always attending to this as the principal object, he does not profess to
confine himself so closely to it, as not occasionally to have touched on
almost every subject which came in his way, partly in the hope of
communicating what is not generally known, partly with a desire of
relieving his readers from a tedious monotony of subject, which after
all, from the nature of a book of travels, must consist of observations
in some degree loose and detached; and not of deep and extensive
reasonings, even if the author’s mind were capable of producing them;
but more perhaps to relieve the tedium of the writer himself, who, too
much habituated all his life to diversify his studies, would have found
himself crampt by restrictions which limited him to a single subject.
The substance was contained in a series of letters written during the
journey. Some things of a private nature have of course been omitted;
others, consisting principally of dates and dimensions, have been added
on the authority of books, or of his friends; and some observations made
on a subsequent tour in 1825 and 1826, have been united to the present
publication. The arrangement of the subjects has at times been altered,
from that which they occupied in the original letters, and two or more
letters have sometimes been compressed into one; but on the whole,
neither the substance nor the form has been materially changed.
Some persons may deem an apology necessary for the positive tone which
the author has adopted in mere matters of opinion. He had in fact, at
first, frequently introduced the expressions, _I think_, _It seems to
me_, and others similar. The reflection that whatever he could say on
such subjects, was necessarily the mere expression of his own
sentiments, has ultimately induced him to reject such phrases, except
where his own mind was not fully made up.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
VOL. I.
LETTER I.
JOURNEY TO PARIS.
Bed-room and bed at Calais, p. 1.—Peculiarities of French towns,
2.—Journey to Boulogne, 2.—Combination of parts to form a perfect
cathedral, 2.—Account of the head of St. John the Baptist, and of the
bones of St. Firmin, 3.—Cathedral of Amiens, 4.—Western fronts of
Churches, 6.—Comparison of French and English churches, 6.—Central
towers, 6.—Unequal towers in front, 7.—Doorways, 7.—Rose windows,
9.—Ridge moulding, 10.—Effect of different styles of architecture,
10.—School-boys, 13.—Paper-hanging, 14.—Journey to Beauvais,
14.—Cathedral at Beauvais, 14.—Oblique groins, 15.—Catholic
ceremonies, 16.—Nôtre Dame de Basse œuvre, 17.—St. Stephen,
17.—Fragments of ancient architecture, 18.—Situation of Beauvais,
18.—Lodgings at Paris, 18.
LETTER II.
GENERAL ACCOUNT OF PARIS.
Apartment at Paris, 19.—Boulevards, 20.—Gardens of the Tuileries, &c.,
20.—Champs Elysées, 20.—Straight and winding walks, 21.—Walk through
Paris, 21.—Quays, 21.—Bridges, 22.—Narrow and crooked streets,
22.—Palais Royal, 22.—Café de Mille Colonnes, 23.—M. du Fourny,
23.—Effect of collections in the fine arts, 24.—Denon,
24.—Bibliothèque Royale, 25.—Humboldt, 26.—Institute, 26.—Visconti,
27.—Percier, 27.—Millin, 28.
LETTER III.
GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE.
Journey to Chalons, 29.—Nôtre Dame de Chalons, 29.—Styles of Gothic,
30.—Chevet, 31.—Change of form in the bases of the shafts or piers,
31.—Portals, 32.—Forms of piers, 32.—St. Wulfram at Abbeville,
33.—Forms of ornaments, 33.—Intersecting bases, 34.—Church at L’Epine,
35.—St. Germain des Prés, 36.—Pointed arches, 37.—Nôtre Dame at
Chalons continued, 40.—Old monuments, 41.—Cathedral at Chalons,
42.—Italian tiles, 42.—Journey to Rheims, 42.
LETTER IV.
GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE.
Church of St. Remi at Rheims, 44.—Crypt, 45.—Church at Mantes,
45.—Cathedral at Chartres, 47.—French guide-books, 47.—Shift of the
Virgin, 48.—Elevation of roof in French churches, 49.—Shrine-work
round the choir, 53.—Disposition of the people, 54.—Nôtre Dame at
Paris, 54.—Comparison with Westminster Abbey, 57.—Cathedral at Rheims,
57.—Disposition of coloured glass, 59.—Method of judging of the
comparative merits of buildings, 59.—Roman arch, 60.—Vaulted chamber,
60.
LETTER V.
RETURN TO PARIS.
Table d’hôte, 61.—Chouan, 62.—Promenades, 62.—Journey to Soissons,
63.—Ruined church of St. John the Baptist, 64.—Walk round the town,
64.—St. Leger, 64.—Cathedral, 64.—Anniversary of the return of Louis
XVIII., 65.—Return to Paris, 65.—Jardin du Roi, 65.—Museum,
67.—Mont-martre, 68.—Mineralogic collections, 69.—Paintings of David,
69.—Excursion to Chartres, Dreux, and Mantes, 70.—Cross-road
travelling, 70.—Bridge at Neuilly, 71.—Palace of St. Cloud,
71.—Botanique rurale, 72.—Versailles, 74.—Restaurateurs, 75.—Café
d’Apollon, 75.—Church of St. Denis, 75.—Churches at Braine sur Vesle,
77.—St. André at Chartres, 77.—St Père at Chartres, 77.—Cathedral at
Dreux, 78.—Church at Limay, 78.—St. Germain Auxerre, 78.—St. Jaques de
la Boucherie, 78.—St. Severin, 78.—St. Martin, 78.—St. Etienne du
Mont, 78.—St. Nicolas des Champs, 78.—St. Gervais, 78.—St. Eustache,
78.—Groins, 79.
LETTER VI.
EDIFICES OF PARIS.
Church of the Assumption, 82.—Val de Grace, 82.—Sorbonne, 82.—Invalides,
83.—Gilding, 83.—Hospital of the Invalides, 83.—Dormer windows,
83.—Hotel de Clugny, 84.—Church of the Institute, 84.—History of the
Church of St. Geneviève, 84.—St. Roch, 92.—St. Sulpice,
92.—Illuminated statue, 93.—St. Philippe en Roule, 93.—Palace of the
Tuileries, 93.—Space in French buildings, 94.—Louvre, 95.—Garde
Meuble, 97.—Galleries of the Louvre, 97.—Palais de Justice, 99.—Palace
of the Luxembourg, 99.—Palais du Corps Legislatif, 100.—Ecole de
Médecine, 100.—Fountain, 101.—Hotel de Ville, 101.—Halle aux blés,
101.—Abattoirs, 101.—Fountains, 102.—Palais des Thermes, 102.—Aqueduct
of Arcueil, 103.
LETTER VII.
PARIS.
Academy, 104.—Sèvres, 106.—M. Prudhom’, 107.—Gallery of M. Sommariva,
107.—Theatres, 107.—Signs, 108.—Festivals, 108.—Religious opinions,
109.—Illuminations, 111.—Liberty of the French, 112.—Political
opinions, 113.
LETTER VIII.
JOURNEY TO LYON.
Journey to Troyes, 115.—Cathedral, 116.—Progress of crenated ornament,
118.—Church of La Madelaine, 118.—St. Urbain, 119.—Journey to Dijon,
119.—Cathedral, 120.—Church of St. Michel, 120.—Nôtre Dame,
121.—Working tradesmen, 124.—Journey to Lyon, 124.—Cathedral at
Chalons sur Saone, 125.—Church at Tournu, 125.—Approach to Lyon, 126.
LETTER IX.
LYON.
Cathedral at Lyon, 127.—Rose and marigold windows, 128.—St. Paul,
130.—St. Nizier, 130.—Imitation of Roman mouldings, 131.—Church at
Aynai, 131.—Hotel de Chevrière, 132.—Roman aqueduct, 132.—Crypt under
church of St. Irene, 132.—Museum, 133.—Deficiency of general knowledge
among the French, 133.—Country about Lyon, 133.—Cafés, 134.—French
politeness, 134.—Theatre, 135.—Relicks, 135.—Constructions in Pisé,
136.
LETTER X.
SOUTH OF FRANCE.
Voyage to Vienne, 137.—Bridge, 137.—Church of St. André le Bas,
137.—Ancient temple, 138.—Pyramid, 138.—Roman arch, 138.—Roman
fragments, 138.—Cathedral, 138.—Elevated platform, 139.—Church of St.
Michel, 141.—Churches by the Rhone, 141.—Value of the Louis,
141.—Voyage down the Rhone, 141.—Ferries, 142.—Descent of the Rhone,
143.—Pont St. Esprit, 143.—Mummies, 143.—Orange, 144.—Triumphal arch,
144.—Roman and Greek capitals and bases, 145.—Theatre, 146.—Circus and
amphitheatre, 147.—Walk to Avignon, 147.—Voyage to Beaucaire,
148.—Beaucaire, 148.—Quack, 149.—Castle of Beaucaire, 150.—Tarrascon,
150.—Advertisement, 150.—Maison carrée at Nismes, 151.—Temple of
Diana, 151.—Public garden, 152.—Idea of comfort, 152.—Amphitheatre,
152.—Roman gateway, 153.—Tour magne, 153.
LETTER XI.
SOUTH OF FRANCE.
Pont du Garde, 154.—Journey to Arles, 154.—Arles, 154.—Amphitheatre,
155.—Theatre, 155.—Capitol, 156.—Obelisk, 157.—Remains of baths,
157.—Sarcophagi, 157.—Journey to St. Remi, 159.—Arch, 159.—Sepulchral
monument, 160.—Vaucluse, 160.—Roman monuments mentioned by Millin,
161.—Chronological arrangement of buildings in the South of France,
161.—Nôtre Dame de Dom, 162.—Cavern-like Gothic, 163.—Church at
Orange, 164.—Cathedral at Arles, 164.—Church at Tarrascon,
165.—Cathedral at Nismes, 165.—Church at St. Remi, 166.—Cathedral at
Valence, 166.—Cathedral at Vienne, 167.—Inversion of ornament, 167.
LETTER XII.
SOUTH OF FRANCE.
Bridge at Avignon, 168.—Collections at Avignon, 169.—Papal palace,
169.—Tower of massacre, 169.—Journey to Grenoble, 170.—Grenoble,
171.—Visit to the Grande Chartreuse, 171.—Tomb of Bayard, 173.—Journey
to Geneva, 174.—General observations on the French, 174.—Persecution
of the Protestants at Nismes, 175.
LETTER XIII.
GENEVA.
Neighbourhood of Geneva, 178.—The Saleve, 178.—Ferney, 178.—Geneva,
179.—Church of St. Pierre, 179.—Walk to Chamounix, 181.—Waterfalls,
182.—Effects of sunset on the snow, 183.—Glacier, 183.—Montanvert and
Mer de Glace, 185.—Walk to Martigny, 186.—Tête noire, 186.—Goitres,
186.—Pissevache, 187.—Vallais, 187.—Bex, 187.—Direction of valleys,
187.—Salt springs, 188.—Walk to Meillerie, 188.—Lausanne,
189.—Cathedral at Lausanne, 189.
LETTER XIV.
TOUR IN SWITZERLAND.
Ride to Bern, 191.—Fribourg, 191.—Bern, 191.—Models of Mountains,
191.—Gymnasium, 191.—Ride to Thun, 192.—Unterseen, 192.—Lauterbrunnen,
193.—Staubbach, 193.—Avalanche, 193.—Wengern Alp, 194.—Alp,
194.—Grindelwald, 195.—Castle of Unspunnen, 195.—Niesen,
196.—Kanderthal, 196.—Gemmi, 196.—Baths of Loetsch, 197.—Vallais,
197.—Rainbow, 197.—Simplon, 197.—Swiss churches, 198.—Swiss cottages,
198.—Duomo d’Ossola, 198.—Via crucis, 198.—Walk to Locarno, 199.—Lago
maggiore, 200.—Borromean islands, 200.—Statue of St. Charles,
201.—Walk to Lugano, 201.—Lake of Lugano, 202.—Walk to Menaggio,
203.—Lake of Como, 203.—Villa Pliniana, 203.—Walk to Como, 204.
LETTER XV.
MILAN.
Cathedral, 205.—Effect of gloom, 209.—View from roof, 210.—Steeple of
St. Godard, 210.—Ornamental arches, 211.—Church of the Passione,
211.—Iron ties, 211.—Roodloft, 212.—Madonna di S. Celso, 212.—Courts,
212.—San Satyro, 212.—Sant Eustorgio, 212.—Saint Ambrose, 213.—Want of
elevation in churches in Italy, 214.—Funeral, 214.—Madonna delle
grazie, 216.—Painting of Last Supper, 217.—Church of St. Mark,
217.—Palace of government, 218.—Colours, 218.—Brera, 219.—Arches upon
columns, 219.—Italian painting, 219.—Great hospital, 220.—Roman
columns, 220.—Mosaics, 220.
APPENDIX.—PAVIA.
Canal from Milan to Pavia, 221.—Cathedral at Pavia, 221.—Church of the
Carmine, 221.—San Francesco, 222.—San Salvadore, 222.—San Michele,
222.—San Pietro in Cielo d’Oro, 222.—Church erected by Pellegrino
Pellegrini, 223.—University, 223.—Bridge over Ticino, 223.—Botanic
garden, 223.—Certosa, 223.
LETTER XVI.
VERONA.
Journey to Verona, 225.—Theatre at Brescia, 225.—Lago di guarda,
225.—Amphitheatre at Verona, 225.—Roman gateway, 227.—Bridges,
227.—Church of Santa Anastasia, 227.—Cathedral, 228.—Church of St.
Zeno, 229.—Cloisters of St. Zeno, 231.—Old church of St. Zeno,
231.—Tomb of Pepin, 232.—Remains of the Bishop’s Palace,
232.—Pellegrini chapel, 232.—Relicks, 233.—San Fermo, 235.—Freedom in
examining churches, 236.—Tombs of the Scaligers, 236.—Sanmicheli,
236.—Fortification, 237.—Palaces, 237.—Tomb of Juliet, 237.
LETTER XVII.
VICENZA—PADUA.
Journey to Vicenza, 238.—Vicenza, 238.—Lombard money, 239.—Palladio,
239.—Basilica, 240.—Palazzo Capitanale, 241.—Fabbrica Conte Porto al
Castello, 241.—Palazzo Tiene, 241.—Triumphal arch, 242.—Church of
Madonna del Monte, 242.—Rotonda, 242.—Palazzo Valmarana, 243.—Palazzo
Trissino, 243.—Palazzo Barbarano, 244.—House of Palladio, 244.—Palazzo
Chiericati, 244.—Palazzo del Conte Orazio da Porto, 244.—Olympic
theatre, 244.—Church of Santa Corona, 245.—Cathedral, 245.—Padua,
245.—Church of St. Antony, 246.—Church of the Eremitani, 247.—Church
of the Arena, 247.—Baptistery, 247.—Palazzo di Ragione, 247.—Church of
Santa Giustina, 248.—Cathedral, 248.—Church of La Madre Dolente,
249.—University, 249.—Tomb of Antenor, 249.—Museum of the Palazzo
Gazzola, 249.—Painting, 249.
LETTER XVIII.
VENICE.
Journey to Venice, 251.—Venice and Venetian life, 251.—Italian theatre,
253.—Piazza di San Marco, 255.—Orologio, 256.—Campanile, 256.—Church
of St. Mark, 256.—Ducal palace, 261.—Harbour and canal of the
Giudecca, 262.—Venetian palaces, 263.
LETTER XIX.
VENICE.
Gondolas, 265.—Santa Maria gloriosa de’ Frari, 265.—Santi Giovanni e
Paolo, 266.—S. Stefano, 266.—Santa Maria del Carmine, 266.—San
Zaccaria, 267.—Ducal palace, 267.—San Jacopo in Rivo alto. 268.—Scuola
di San Rocco, 269.—Procuratie Vecchie, 269.—Zecca, 270.—Procuratie
Nuove, 270.—Campanile, 270.—Loggia, 270.—Sansovino, 271.—Church of San
Martino, 271.—San Giorgio de’ Greci, 271.—Church of San Francesco
della Vigna, 271.—Redentore, 272.—St. George, 273.—S. Nicola de’
Tolentini, 273.—San Pietro in Castello, 274.—S. Simeon Piccolo,
274.—Santa Maria del Rosario, called Gesuati, 274.—San Barnaba,
274.—Santa Maria della Salute, 274.—Santissimo Salvadore,
275.—Prigione Nuove, 275.—Lions, 275.—Pictures, 276.—Painted outsides
of houses, 277.
LETTER XX.
BOLOGNA.
Journey to Bologna, 278.—Residence at Bologna, 279.—Roman money,
279.—Paintings of Bolognese school, 280.—Church of San Petronio,
280.—San Stefano, 282.—San Giacomo maggiore, 283.—Cathedral, 283.—San
Giorgio, 283.—San Salvadore, 284.—San Paolo, 284.—San Bartolommeo,
284.—San Domenico, 284.—Madonna del Monte, 284.—Portico, 285.—Certosa,
285.—Palazzo Ranuzzi, 285.—Torre degli Asinelli, 285.—Torre Garisendi,
285.—Disputations in Romish church, 286.—State of Italy,
286.—Superstition at Bologna, 291.—Mezzofanti, 292.
LETTER XXI.
FLORENCE.
Journey from Bologna, 294.—Vetturino system, 294.—Apennines,
294.—Italian time, 295.—Florence, 295.—Cathedral, 295.—Different
notions of antiquity, 299.—Campanile, 299.—Baptistery, 299.—Church of
Santa Croce, 300.—San Remigio, 301.—Santi Apostoli, 301.—Unfinished
fronts, 301.—Santa Maria Novella, 301.—San Lorenzo, 302.—Sagrestia
nuova, 304.—M. A. Buonarroti, 304.—Burying-place of the Medici,
304.—Church of Santo Spirito, 305.—Annunziata, 306.—Madonna del
Carmine, 306.—St. Mark, 307.—Cose stupende, 307.—Old nobility of
Florence, 307.—Palazzo Vecchio, 308.—Loggia, 308.—Gallery,
309.—Palazzo Pitti, 309.—Palazzo Riccardi, 309.—Palazzo Strozzi,
310.—Palazzo Pandolfini, 310.—Casa Michelozzi, 311.
LETTER XXII.
JOURNEY TO ROME.
Fiesole, 312.—Journey to Siena, 312.—Siena, 313.—Gutturals,
313.—Piazza, 313.—Cathedral of Siena, 313.—Hospital, 315.—Church of
San Domenico, 315.—History of Siena, 315.—Neighbourhood of Siena,
315.—Ventriloquist, 316.—Radicofani, 317.—Acquapendente, 317.—Lake
of Bolsena, 318.—Bolsena, 318.—Monte Fiascone, 319.—Orvieto,
319.—Cathedral, 319.—Bishop’s palace, 321.—Church of San Michele,
322.—Church of San Domenico, 322.—Church of San Lorenzo, 322.—Well
of Sangallo, 322. Palazzo Soliana, 322.—Pal. Gualtieri,
322.—Bollicame, 322.—Viterbo, 323.—Cathedral, 323.—Church of the
Trinità, 323.—S. Francesco, 323.—Monte Cimino, 323.—Lake of Vico,
323.—Capraruola, 323.—Church of the Teresiane, 324.—Ronciglione,
324.—Campagna, 324.—Sutri, 324.—Amphitheatre, 325.—Subterranean
church, 325.—Bridge, 325.—Baccano, 326.—Arrival at Rome, 326.
LETTER XXIII.
ROMAN ANTIQUITIES.
General impressions, 327.—Capitol, 327.—Palatine hill, 328.—Disposition
of hills, 329.—Lodging, 330.—Steps of the Trinità, 330.—Forum,
330.—Capitoline hill, 331.—Tabularium, 331.—Temple of Jupiter Tonans,
331.—Richness of detail in Roman architecture, 332.—Temple of Concord,
332.—Arch of Septimius Severus, 333.—Mamertine prisons, 333.—Column of
Phocas, 334.—Temple of Saturn, 334.—Temple of Antoninus and Faustina,
334.—Temple of Romulus and Remus, 335.—Jupiter Stator, 335.—Form of
shaft of the columns, 337.—Effect of slight variations, 337.—Temple of
Peace, 338.—Progress of architecture in Rome, 338.—Arch of Titus,
340.—Temple of Venus and Rome, 341.—Coliseum, 341.—Arch of
Constantine, 342.—Baths of Titus, 342.—Vivarium, 344.—Baths of Livia,
345.—Palace of the Cæsars, 345.
LETTER XXIV.
ROMAN ANTIQUITIES.
Temple of Romulus, 346.—Forum Boarium, 346.—Arch of Janus, 347.—Arch of
the goldsmiths, 347.—Cloaca maxima, 347.—Temple of Patrician Modesty,
348.—Temple of Vesta, 348.—Foliage of the Corinthian capital,
349.—Greek and Roman styles of ornament, 349.—Temple of Fortuna
Virilis, 350.—House of Rienzi, 350.—Pons Palatinus, 350.—Temples of
Filial Piety, &c. 350.—Theatre of Marcellus, 351.—Theatre of Pompey,
351.—Portico of Octavia, 351.—Baths of Agrippa, 351.—Pantheon,
352.—Use of bricks, 353.—Use of discharging arches, 353.—Pyramidal
form in buildings, 354.—Coffers on domes, 357.—Basilica of Antoninus,
359.
LETTER XXV.
ST. PETER’S.
History of the building, 361.—Model, 362.—Expense, 365.—Cracks,
366.—Sacristy, 367.—Cause of its want of apparent magnitude
externally, 369.—Internally, 372.—Sculpture in the church, 374.—Change
of design from Greek to Latin cross, 377.—Gilding, 378.—Effect of
magnificence, 380.—Pietà of Michael Angelo, 380.—Monuments,
380.—Mosaic, 381.
LETTER XXVI.
BASILICAN CHURCHES.
San Paolo fuori delle mura, 383.—Churches visited to obtain indulgences,
383.—Churches which have the Porta santa, 383.—Patriarchal churches,
383.—Ancient basilica of St. Peter, 386.—St. John Lateran,
387.—Corsini chapel, 388.—Cloisters, 388.—Scala santa,
389.—Triclinium, 390.—Baptistery of Constantine, 390.—Santa Croce in
Gerusalemme, 390.—Santa Maria in Trastevere, 391.—S. M. di Ara Cœli,
391.—San Grisogono, 392.—Quattro santi, 393.—San Pietro in Vincolis,
393.—Figure of Moses, 394.—Santa Agnese fuori delle mura, 394.—Temple
of Bacchus, 395.—San Lorenzo fuori delle mura, 396.—Santa Maria
Maggiore, 397.—Chapels, 399.—Santa Sabina, 399.—St. Clement,
400.—Small courts, 400.—San Martino de’ Monti, 401.—Baths of Trajan,
401.—Santa Pudenziana, 401.—Santa Prassede, 402.—Santa Maria in
Domnica, 402.—Marble boat, 402.—San Giorgio in Velabro, 402.—Ancient
towers, 402.
LETTER XXVII.
LIVING AT ROME—MODERN CHURCHES.
Roman life, 404.—Play at Orphan school, 407.—Carnival, 407.—Race,
408.—Festina, 409.—Display of military authority, 410.—Italian
language, 410.—Climate, 411.—Roman churches, 412.—Method of lighting,
413.—Church of S. Andrea, 414.—St. Ignazio, 415.—Church of the
Jesuits, 416.—Santi Apostoli, 417.—Santa Agnese in Piazza Navona,
417.—San Carlo alle quattro fontane, 417.—Sant Andrea del Noviziato,
418.—Santa Maria di Consolazione, 418.—Three smaller churches,
418.—Santa Maria in Campitelli, 418.
LETTER XXVIII.
ROME.
Roman spring, 419.—Easter ceremonies, 419.—Benediction, 425.—Vatican
palace, 426.—Sistine chapel, 426.—Galleries of Vatican, 428.—Arazzi of
Raphael, 428.—Camere of Raphael, 429.—Loggie of Raphael, 430.—Mode of
considering paintings, 430.—Museum, 432.—Statues, 433.—Greek and Roman
schools of art, 434.—Library, 436.—Omission of cornice, 437.
LETTER XXIX.
PALACES OF ROME.
General observations, 438.—Campidoglio, 439.—Museum, 442.—Cancellaria,
443.—Palazzo Giraud, 444.—Sora, 444.—Stoppani, 444.—Massimi,
445.—Farnesina, 445.—Architecture of Sangallo, 446.—Palazzo Saccheti,
446.—Farnese, 446.—Competitions, 447.—Architecture of Giulio Romano,
448.—Palazzo Cenci, 448.—Architecture of Vignola, 449.—Court of
Palazzo Farnese, 449.—Church of Sant Andrea, 449.—Villa Giulia,
449.—Palazzo Alessandrini, 450.—Ruspoli, 450.—Quirinale,
450.—Combination of colours, 451.—Horses of Phidias and Praxiteles,
452.—Palazzo della Consulta, 452.—Architecture of Fontana, 453.—Palace
of St. John Lateran, 453.—Sapienza, 453.—Architecture of Bernini,
454.—Palazzo della Propaganda, 454.—Ghigi, 454.—Barberini,
454.—Architecture of Borromini, 454.
LETTER XXX.
ROME.
Piazza di Spagna, 456.—Piazza del popolo, 456.—Public gardens,
457.—French academy, 457.—Church of the Trinità de Monti,
458.—Capuchin convent, 458.—Piazza Barberini, 458.—Quirinal hill,
459.—Viminal, 459.—Esquiline, 459.—Church of St. Antony, 459.—Trophies
of Marius, 459.—Arch of Gallienus, 459.—Temple of Pallas, 460.—Temple
of Mars Ultor, 460.—Baths of Paulus Æmilius, 461.—Forum of Trajan,
461.—Column of Trajan, 462.—Basilica of Trajan, 462.—Church of Nome di
Maria, 463.—Church of Santa Maria di Loreto, 463.—Effect of gilding,
463.—Sepulchre of C. P. Bibulus, 463.—Colonna palace, 463.—Baths of
Constantine, 464.—Enormous fragment, 464.—Fountain of Trevi,
465.—Loggia of the Palazzo Rospigliosi, 465.
LETTERS OF AN ARCHITECT.
LETTER I.
JOURNEY TO PARIS.
_Paris, 16th April, 1816._
IT is a great advantage to me that I can address letters on architecture
to a person for whose taste and judgment I have so much esteem, but who
at the same time is not an architect. Being obliged to avoid a great
many technical phrases and forms of speech, which often serve as a
convenient shelter for ignorance or superficial knowledge, I shall find
it necessary to study the subject myself more attentively on all those
points which can interest a general observer, and to explain myself with
more care and precision.
I shall not trouble you with any observations on English ground; and
indeed, between London and Paris, the road is so well known, and so
often travelled, that it seems almost an impertinence to detain you on
it, except to examine the two magnificent cathedrals of Amiens and
Beauvais; yet there are some particulars on this frequented track which
strike an architect more than they would a general observer.
My bed-room at Calais, with its high ceiling and broad striped paper,
was very different from what one finds on your side of the water. The
bed is, almost every where in France, placed sideways against the wall.
It has head and foot boards, and the square uprights which support them
are terminated with a vase, or some such ornament, at least on that side
of the bed towards the apartment. Above, a pin with an ornamented head,
whose projection from the wall is equal to the width of the bed,
supports a long curtain of white dimity, which falls in a pleasing curve
over the head and foot boards, and being of a considerable width, may be
drawn forward so as nearly to conceal the bed. This arrangement
certainly leaves the room much more at liberty than ours, and looks
better; and as it is not considered any impropriety to receive company
in a bed-room, these circumstances are of more consequence here than in
England; yet they are desirable every where, and the only disadvantage I
perceive arises from the necessity of rolling out the bedstead in order
to make the bed, an inconvenience apparently very trifling.
There are doubtless some peculiarities in the French towns, but on the
whole fewer than I expected: the principal are, perhaps, that the houses
are without parapets, and that they have dormer windows,[1] the front of
which is usually upright over the wall of the house, the eaves being
sometimes continued across, and sometimes omitted. There is no flat
paving for the footpaths, but the streets are not narrower, if so
narrow, as in the country towns in England.
Every body knows that the road from Calais to Boulogne is not pleasant.
About Boulogne the scenery is much more agreeable, as we pass along a
valley adorned with trees and hedges. There is, I am told, a law that
all proprietors shall plant the sides of the road which passes by or
through their grounds: unfortunately there is no law which compels the
trees to grow, and a green stake is thrust into the ground, which may
either live or die; if the latter, it is very easy to thrust in another
the succeeding year. After passing the town of Samer, about ten miles
from Boulogne, we again ascended the chalk hills, and had a most
beautiful view, coloured with uncommon richness and splendour, as the
landscape faded under the shades of evening; but I believe the charm
depended principally on this colouring. We continued our journey through
the night, and the next morning at eleven reached Amiens.
You did not, I believe, when in France, see the cathedral of Amiens, but
you have heard of it, and of the beauty of its nave. The French say,
that to form a perfect cathedral you must unite the front of Rheims, the
spire of Chartres, the nave of Amiens, and the choir of Beauvais. The
parts would not combine very well, but I hope at a future time to
conduct you to all these edifices. The cathedral of Amiens was founded
by Bishop Everard, in order to provide a suitable depository for the
head of St. John the Baptist and the body of St. Firmin. The former
saint, according to Rivoire, (Description de l’Eglise Cathédrale
d’Amiens, p. 160) was beheaded in the prisons of the castle of
Macheronte, or of Sebaste, (i. e. of Samaria). The Emperor Valens
endeavoured in vain to transfer the head to Rome. Theodosius, more
fortunate, brought it from the village of Cosilaon in Siberia, to enrich
Constantinople; but whereabouts this village is situated, or when, or
why, or how any part of St. John the Baptist travelled into Siberia, I
have not been able to learn. A gentleman of Picardy being present at the
assault of Constantinople, on the 12th of April, 1204, found among the
ruins of an old building, called the Palace of the Arsenal, two great
dishes of silver, in one of which was this head of the Baptist, and in
the other that of St. George, as was fully testified by their respective
inscriptions. The dishes were large and heavy, and the discoverer was in
want of money; he therefore sold them to pay his expenses, reserving,
however, two smaller vessels which immediately contained the sacred
relics. What became of the head of St. George we are not told, but that
of St. John was transported to Amiens, where it arrived on the 17th of
December, 1206, the clergy and people going out to receive it. The
record of this event bears date in March, 1210. The skull is not entire,
the back part being apparently deficient, and there is an oblong hole
over the left eye, supposed to have been made by the knife of Herodias.
After such a long account of one relic it would be unfair not to make
some mention of the other. The bones of St. Firmin had been discovered
some time before the acquisition of the head of St. John the Baptist, by
a miraculous ray of light which shone upon the spot where they were
buried; and the authenticity of the relic was farther proved, not only
by a delightful and healing odour which arose from them, but also by a
supernatural warmth which dissolved the snow then upon the ground, made
the grass grow, and the trees put forth their leaves, and, in short,
turned winter into summer.
I have given you quite enough of these fables, let me now turn to facts
better authenticated. An old cathedral was destroyed by fire in 1218.
The foundations of the present edifice were laid in 1220, according to
the designs of Robert de Lusarche. Bishop Everard, the founder, died in
1222. The pillars of the choir and nave were completed in 1223; the
north transept was erected in 1236, Geoffry d’Eu being bishop. Robert de
Lusarche had, probably, died in the interim, as the architects, at the
latter period, were Thomas de Courmont, and Renault de Courmont, his
son. The vaulting of the nave and side aisles was completed under
Arnold, who governed the church of Amiens from 1236 to 1247; at the same
time a magnificent stone tower was erected over the centre of the cross.
This tower was entirely of open work, it was destroyed by lightning in
1527, and the wooden spire, which at present exists, was erected two
years afterwards. The building, exclusive of the side chapels, was
completed in 1288, according to an inscription formerly existing on the
pavement, now no longer legible. The following dimensions are from
Rivoire, (p. 24) reduced to English measure. They are, perhaps, not all
of them perfectly exact, but I had not opportunity to examine them
minutely, and am not apprehensive of any material error.
Feet. Inch.
Length of the front platform 153 5
Width of the central porch 38 4
Depth of ditto 17 0
Side porches, each in width 20 7
Depth of ditto 14 10
Width of each pier between the porches 9 7
Whole length of the front 160 0
From the portal to the gate of the choir 234 6
Length of the choir 138 6
From the choir to the chapel at the end of the
rond point 19 2
Length of this chapel 50 1
Whole length internally 442 3
Ditto, externally 479 5
Width of the nave between the piers 45 6
From one chapel of the aisle to the opposite
chapel 104 5
Length of the transept 194 0
Breadth of ditto 45 7
Height from the bottom of the piers to the summit
of the vaulting 140 8
The pavement to the springing of the arches 45 4
Thence to the moulding under the galleries 24 2
Thence to the frieze[2] 21 3
Thence to the vault 51 1
Height of the side aisles 64 0
Distance between the piers 17 0
Height of the spire from the ridge of the roof,
including the cock 214 2[3]
From the pavement 422 0
Slope of the roof 53 3
Perpendicular height of roof 46 10
Height of the choir 137 5
Breadth of ditto 45 6
Height of the aisles and side chapels 64 8
Lateral width of the chapels 28 9
Depth of ditto 28 10
Circumference of the dial of the clock 102 3
Diameter of ditto 34 1
Height of the figures 2 0
Distance which separates them 7 5
Height of the north tower 223 8
Height of the south tower 205 0
Number of steps to the top of the highest tower 306 0
Having thus given you a sketch of the principal dates and dimensions of
this magnificent edifice, I will endeavour to give you some idea of its
present appearance. A detailed account of all the parts would require a
residence of some weeks on the spot, but my object is rather to
communicate the impression produced on the mind of the observer, and to
point out the leading sources of that impression, than to enter into
minutiæ. The distant view exhibits a great square mass of building, a
little varied by the slightly superior elevation of one of the western
towers, and by a very slender spire or pinnacle of wood rising from the
centre to twice the general height. The ridge of the roof of York
Minster is 112 feet from the pavement. That of Salisbury Cathedral, 115
feet; St. Paul’s at London, 112; Westminster Abbey, 140; the cathedral
at Amiens, 208 feet. This comparison may help you to form some idea of
the appearance of the last mentioned edifice, towering above the houses
of a provincial city. What was the design of the original central spire
of _open work_ in stone, and what was its height, it would be curious to
determine. Central towers of that date in England seem to have been low
and heavy, and if that of Norwich Cathedral be cited to the contrary,
still it does not at all help us to form a judgment of what a spire of
open work would have been. The spire and the upper part of the tower at
Salisbury are thought to be of a more modern date. The highest western
tower is surmounted by one of those steep roofs which still seem to have
something attractive to French eyes, but which to mine are absolute
deformities. On approaching the edifice, the richness of the western
front is very striking. There is a certain similarity in the disposition
of this part in all the French churches of the thirteenth century. The
cathedrals of Amiens, of Nôtre Dame at Paris, and at Rheims, are
distinguished from our English buildings by nearly the same particulars,
though they differ much from each other. They assume in this part more
of a pyramidal form; the space between the western towers is
proportionally smaller than with us. The doorways are much larger; a
rose or marigold window is placed over the central opening, and above
that is one or more ranges of niches, with statues nearly hiding the
triangular gable end of the nave. Sometimes one, or even two ranges of
niches occur below the marigold window, as is the case in the example
before us. Sometimes the window is between two ranges of niches, and in
some instances there are two rose windows. These windows and niches form
the elements of the composition, but the arrangement varies in almost
every edifice. The division immediately above the porch at Amiens is
marked by a range of twenty-two niches, containing as many statues,
which are supposed to represent the kings of France, from Charlemagne to
Philip Augustus; the latter died in 1223, and this coincidence of his
death with the æra of the building seems to have been used by the modern
antiquaries in assigning names to the statues. The profusion of ornament
in this front is not without its effect, but we endeavour in vain to
trace any simple principle of arrangement, and a certain degree of
confusion diminishes the pleasure which would otherwise be felt. This
objection is applicable more or less to the external of all Gothic
buildings, and the more the parts are multiplied the more obvious it
becomes: yet it is not a style of architecture which can succeed without
a considerable proportion of ornament, and perhaps even of intricacy. On
the inside of a Gothic edifice of the best periods, although the parts
are numerous, yet they all seem to arise from the mode of construction,
and to follow each other so naturally, that the eye and mind are led
from one to the other through the whole system. With the outside the
case is otherwise; the form of no one part seems to depend on that below
it, but each might as well be surmounted by something different as by
that which really succeeds it. The ranges of arches in these fronts have
the effect of dividing the height of the composition into horizontal
bands, and there can be no doubt that in the pointed architecture, the
perpendicular lines should prevail over the horizontal. I think that in
the present instance these horizontal lines are less striking in the
building than in the usual engravings, perhaps because in reality we
have no point of view sufficiently distant to permit the eye to embrace
the whole composition.
I have a few more words to say on the outside of this cathedral. The two
towers are of unequal height; the seat of the archbishop alone,
according to my usual guide, Rivoire,[4] was distinguished by two equal
towers, as is the case at Paris and at Rheims. In Turkey the privilege
of more than one tower is still restricted to the royal mosques, but I
believe it is altogether the fancy of this author that any similar
regulation existed for the forms of Christian churches.
There are three doorways. This disposition, which is sometimes
observable in our cathedrals, is very general in the larger religious
edifices of France. The middle, says Rivoire, was for the clergy, that
on the right for the men, that on the left for the women. The middle
door at Amiens is called that of the Saviour, because his image adorns
the pilaster at the meeting of the two leaves of the door, which here,
and very commonly elsewhere in France, divides the doorway into two
parts. The two sides, and the parts above, present a very elaborate
composition, representing, as is supposed, the Last Judgment. Mr.
Rigollot, a member of the Academy of Amiens, imagines that he traces in
it the prevalence of the superstitions of Sabeism, and has given a
description wherein he corrects some errors and inaccuracies of Rivoire;
and a very ingenious, and I think in general satisfactory, elucidation
of his own opinion. The right, or southern doorway is called that of the
Mother of God, the image of the Virgin Mary being in a similar manner
placed in the middle. That on the north is distinguished by the statue
and name of St. Firmin, to whom the cathedral is dedicated. The latter
doorway is farther remarkable by the twelve signs of the zodiac, which
are sculptured on it, with the rural labours of the corresponding months
of the year. It exhibits also fourteen figures of saints, of which St.
Firmin and St. Dionysius are represented carrying their heads in their
hands. Was it not St. Severinus who not only took his head in his hand
after he had been decapitated, but actually walked with it to the altar,
and participated in the holy communion?
On entering the church one is immediately struck by a fine appearance of
space and airiness. This is partly owing to the great dimensions; the
nave is 10 feet wider, and above 50 feet higher than that of Salisbury
Cathedral. The side aisles at Salisbury are only 38 feet high. Those at
Amiens are 64; and this I have no doubt also contributes greatly to the
impression of superior magnificence. In length the French cathedrals are
generally inferior to ours, but they are without screens, and the whole
extent presents itself at once to the eye of the spectator. A range of
side chapels, corresponding with the divisions of the side aisles, is
also a noble feature which we have not in any English building, or have
it only very imperfectly in Chichester Cathedral.
These dimensions and comparisons may perhaps assist your imagination in
forming an idea of the building, but it is impossible to communicate the
feelings produced by the first view of its interior. It not only far
surpassed my expectations, but possessed a character and expression
quite new to me. In our English cathedrals the eye is confined to one
avenue, and the sublime effect is nearly limited to the view along it.
Here the sight seems to penetrate in all directions, and to obtain a
number of views, all indeed subordinate to the principal one, but all
beautiful, and offering, by the different position of the parts with
regard to the spectator, the greatest variety. I sat down for some time
to enjoy this sublime scene, and then paced slowly up the nave, as far
as the intersection of the cross, where my attention was arrested by the
beautiful rose window at each end of the transept. Without seeing them
one can form no idea of how much beauty a rose window is capable; the
splendid colouring of the glass, glowing among the rich tracery, has a
brilliancy and magnificence for which I can cite to you no parallel in
England.
On the rise of the Italian school of architecture the preceding style,
which then received the appellation of Gothic, was reproached as heavy,
dark, gloomy, and void of simplicity. Nothing can be more unjust than
this censure. In its interiors, on the contrary, it offers the greatest
simplicity and harmony; not entirely free from defects, and occasionally
exhibiting traces of the rude age in which it flourished, but bearing
these as slight blemishes on a beautiful face. It is extremely light, as
opposed to heavy, for no style of building performs, or appears to
perform so much with so little material; and the blaze of daylight from
its numerous and spacious windows is insufferable, when not corrected by
the deeply coloured glass, and even by its coarse joinings. These rose
windows, brilliant as they are when seen from below, I found, on nearer
inspection, to be divided by very wide strips of lead, and these again
had collected about them a quantity of dust, which still farther
obscured the light, but all this was lost in the general splendour of
the effect as seen from below. These two large roses of the transept
open into a square space underneath them, so that, strictly speaking,
they are not rose windows, but merely rose-headed. The circle, however,
occupies so large a portion, and the remainder is comparatively so
insignificant, that we must be permitted to call them rose windows. That
of the nave comprises only the circle. The design of the tracery is,
probably, somewhat later than that of the building; at least, in England
we should attribute it nearly to the middle of the fourteenth century,
here we know enough of the building to assign it with confidence to the
thirteenth. Those of the transept I judge to be later still, chiefly on
account of their union with the window below. The western rose has
become internally the dial of the clock; the figures denoting the hours
are more than seven feet apart, and the hour hand moves nearly an inch
and a half in a minute. In that of the northern transept we find the
pentalpha, a form to which some persons imagine a mysterious meaning to
be attached. The same arrangement which prevails in the nave is
continued in the choir, only the outer aisle being no longer divided
into chapels, there is a double side aisle continued from the transept
to the polygonal end of the building; to this part chapels are again
attached, presenting five sides of an octagon. The ladies’ chapel, in
the centre, is lengthened, but terminates in the same manner.
In the French Gothic there is no moulding along the ridges of the vault,
except, and that rarely, in some of the latest edifices. This moulding,
in drawings of English buildings, is generally represented as a straight
line, but does, in fact, usually form a crooked one, descending to the
direct arch, and rising to the intersection of the groins. In the French
buildings this mode of construction is much more evident than with us,
the intersection of the groins being always considerably higher than the
point of the direct arch, and sometimes so much so, for instance, in the
church of St. Germain des Près, in Paris, as to form almost a portion of
a dome. In some of the late Gothic examples I think I have seen exactly
the reverse take place, and the point of the direct arch made the
highest in the vaulting.