increasing. Two mathematicians were appointed to examine the reasons on
both sides, but they declined pronouncing which was right, and it was
agreed that the architects, the inspectors, and mathematicians, should
each report separately to the minister of the interior. Other
commissioners were appointed in 1798, who were frightened at the
progress of settlement which had taken place in the two years preceding,
and requested the immediate erection of the centres proposed by the
architects; but unfortunately they desired that M. Rondelet, M.
Gauthier, inspector general of _Ponts et Chaussées_, and M. Patté, who
had published in an early stage of the work, some observations on the
insufficiency of the piers, should be joined with them. The indulgence
of this request produced new difficulties and new debates. At last, in
1799, a commission of the members of the Institute recommended the
completion of the erection of the centres; and this appears to have been
executed; but nothing farther was done till 1806, when it was decided to
restore the building to its original destination as a church. The
pillars were rebuilt under the direction of M. Rondelet, on the
principle at first recommended by the architects. The whole now seems
perfectly firm, and the appearance of the building, if you will allow a
person to judge who never saw it in its original state, not at all
injured. It is certainly a beautiful edifice, the general proportions
are good, and there is much grace and elegance in the outline; but there
are also many defects. To begin, as usual, with the outside. The columns
of the portico are too wide apart, there ought to have been eight
instead of six in the front row. The two columns forming a projection on
each side beyond the line of the portico, are great blemishes; very
injurious to the general effect, and the more so, because they are
palpably placed there for no other purpose than to enhance it; and the
four internal columns on each side, are most awkwardly doubled against
the external columns and the pilasters. If instead of these eighteen
columns, there were sixteen, disposed like those of the Pantheon at
Rome, this part would have been incomparably finer. The body of the
building is too plain for the portico; the eye requires either
pilasters, or something which might produce a similar effect, to be
continued all round, in order to preserve the same character throughout
the edifice, or at least some returns at the north and south entrances,
of the magnificence of the western front. It is as necessary in
architecture as in painting, to avoid every thing which makes an
unconnected spot in the composition. The breaks which exist as apologies
for the want of pilasters, have a foolish and unmeaning effect; and the
uninterrupted continuance of an ornament of the height of the capital,
is heavy and displeasing. Above this, the pedestal, if I may so call it,
of the dome, by its plainness and simplicity, forms a relief to the more
ornamented portions of the building, and affords a noble base for the
upper part. The columns of the drum are well proportioned and well
arranged. The attic above them is perhaps rather too high, and the flat
ribs of the dome itself are objectionable, especially, distinguished as
they now are, by being painted yellow on a gray ground. This dome is
triple, and the outer is, in parts of its surface, only eight inches
thick. It is not a portion of a sphere, but like those of most modern
churches, would form a point, if the summit were not cut off to receive
the lantern. This is right, where a dome is elevated, and surmounted by
another form of edifice. In a building where a dome and its direct
support constitute the whole of the apparent mass, or even where the
dome forms the centre of a building, not very high in proportion to its
extent, the portion of a sphere is better; but where the effect of
height is intended, the somewhat pointed form of the dome maintains the
general tendency to a pyramidal form. This is hardly accomplished at St.
Geneviève, principally, however, I believe, from the injudicious
truncated form of the lantern, which was not a part of the original
design, but an addition of the present architect, and intended to
support a colossal statue of Fame. It has never been finished; and
perhaps when surmounted either with such a statue, or with a ball and
cross, it will have a better appearance, because it will be more in
harmony with the general form of the edifice. In the interior there is
less to censure, and I never enter it without fresh pleasure. In its
light and elegant appearance, it resembles the church of St. Stephen,
Walbrook, more than any other edifice in England; and like that perhaps,
is rather deficient in the solemnity which ought to accompany a
religious edifice. There is no heaviness in any part, but in some
respects rather the contrary appearance of insufficiency. The new piers
are no stronger than seems necessary to support the work above; yet I
must confess, that the disposition of the columns, forming the nave into
squares, each of which is covered with a shallow dome, though giving an
air of lightness, produces a certain degree of confusion, and is vastly
inferior in majesty and sublimity, to a nave with a continued vault
leading to one central dome. It is perhaps this circumstance, more than
any other, which communicates an air of gaiety, one might almost say, of
levity, to the interior. The four square pillars over the columns, which
advance at the angles to support the smaller domes, are preposterously
little. There are other defects in the details of the building, which I
shall not point out to you; but in spite of them all, one cannot refuse
it the rank of one of the most beautiful edifices in Europe. A stranger
is usually conducted to the vaults below, whose long, low, gloomy
arcades, produce a solemn impression; especially when connected with the
idea of their destination to receive the illustrious dead. The
individual objects they contain have no other merit. They consist of
paltry wooden models of proposed monuments to Voltaire and Rousseau, and
plain stone sarcophagi of some of the imperial generals and nobles.
The church of St. Roch was built by Mercier, for Louis the Fourteenth.
It is pleasant to follow the boasted architects of that age, and to
judge of their merits by comparing them with one another, and with their
successors. That school is entirely gone by in Paris, and a very
different one, more closely founded on the Roman architecture, has
succeeded. Though sufficiently varied, they are however both French; as
far as the buildings which have been erected enable us to judge. The
design may show the taste and talent of the architect, but the adoption
and execution are more connected with the taste of the age and country.
In both schools there is much knowledge, and much imagination and
ingenuity; in both there is a deficiency in purity and nobleness of
taste; yet the present is certainly much preferable to the old. No
modern architect would cut up his building so unmeaningly as is done in
the front of St. Roch; nor would it be admired if he did. This is the
design of J. R. Cotte in 1736, and has been much praised in its _time_—a
short one for the durable productions of architecture. There are now, I
think, several French architects who would produce a better design for
the interior; for notwithstanding the effort to give effect by the
succession of four edifices one within another, presented to the view at
a single glance; and by the gilding and painting with which it is
adorned, it is not impressive. It is, however, rich and showy, and
deserves observation, independently of the sculpture with which it is
ornamented, some of which is very good. In the extreme niche is a
crucifixion in marble, illuminated by a concealed light from above, with
very good effect; by the side of this is a calvary, where a similar
management is attempted, but with less success, principally because
there are several lights instead of one.
There is a great display of architecture both inside and outside of St.
Sulpice, but neither the one nor the other is pleasing. The latter (the
front at least) is by Servandoni, and is very much admired; but I think
the defects are not merely in details, but in the choice of form, and
the disposition of the principal parts. The use here made of two orders
is not good, and the upper, with its piers and arches, and half columns
resting on the insulated columns below, is quite too heavy. The lower
part of the towers ought to have presented a considerable extent of
plain surface, which would have seemed a proper basement to the superior
part, and contrasted with the shadows of the portico, and with the
multiplication of surface resulting from the colonnade in the centre;
instead of which, in the present arrangement, the eye confounds it with
the portico, and disconnects it with the towers. At the extremity of the
church, behind the choir, is a little recess, with a statue of the
virgin, illuminated by means of a concealed window, which is admirably
managed. I walked through the church without being aware of what I had
to expect, and thus coming upon it by surprise, the effect was
enchanting. There is something of a purplish hue, either in the light or
the material, which is a defect. The Ladies chapel, in which it is
placed, is darkly rich in painting and gilding, and has but little
light, most of which is by concealed openings just above the cornice,
and directed towards the body of the church; and its general gloom very
much enhances the effect of the illuminated figure. On looking
externally at the recess or niche which contains the statue, it appears
to have two small, oval windows, perhaps 12 inches by 9, precisely in
the angle where the circular part unites with the body of the building.
Internally, the light appears to proceed from one side, and from the
top; perhaps the two windows were found too much, and one of them has
been consequently stopt up.
St. Philippe en Roule is a handsome church, viewed on the outside, but I
think looks better in an engraving than in the reality. The details are
bad, and indicate great want of taste in the architect. In the interior
likewise, the general design is good, and the details and ornaments
defective; but the great fault of this church is, that it produces no
sort of impression. I have not been able to satisfy myself to what this
extreme tameness is owing; perhaps a very poor wooden ceiling may have
some influence.
The extent of the Champs Elysées, and the Jardin des Tuilleries, the
number of statues with which they are ornamented, and the gay crowd
which peoples them, form a very striking scene, and prepare one for the
lengthened front of the palace, to which they seem to belong; excepting
its extent, however, this palace has no merit. Whether we consider the
whole mass, or the parts of which it is composed; their proportions
taken separately, or their proportions as component parts of one
edifice; there is nothing to excite admiration; and even were the lower
parts better, as long as the abominable high separate roofs remain, it
is impossible that the whole should please. The central part, _i. e._
the middle pavilion, the ‘_Corps de Logis_,’ on each hand, and the two
adjoining pavilions, were built by Catherine of Medici, from designs of
Philippe de Lorme and Jean Bullant. Happy if it had never been extended
any farther; for this part, though not in a pure taste, possesses some
beauty, and the advancing terrace, supported on arches, has a pleasing
appearance. Then came Ducerceau, who without any feeling for the general
effect, added the two extreme divisions on each side, equally discordant
between themselves and with what had been done before. Attempts were
made under Louis XIV. to harmonize the whole, but the parts were too
heterogeneous; and with its insignificant centre, the smallest division
of the whole, and its overwhelming roof, this may probably boast of
being the most conspicuously ugly piece of architecture in Europe.
Passing through the archway, into the Place de Carousel, the size of the
square, considered as the court of a single building, excites
astonishment. The opening at present displayed must be equal to
Lincoln’s Inn Fields; and when all the old buildings, which are now in
the way, shall have been cleared off, there will be more than double
that space. Still, however, the architecture is very bad, and the new
part is made to correspond with all the breaks and caprices of the
opposite side. This appears to me injudicious, as a few easy alterations
in the old work would simplify and beautify it amazingly, and the
internal arrangement would also have been benefitted. This old side
forming a gallery of communication between the two palaces, was begun by
Henry IV., under the direction of Étienne Duperon, continued by Louis
XIII. and finished by Louis XIV. The new side was erected by Napoleon.
After all this, the eye is hardly prepared for the vast length of the
building displayed upon the quay. Indeed, whether from the gardens, the
Place de Carousel, or the quay, the prevailing impression given by the
palace of the Tuilleries is, that it is very large, and very ugly; but
the immense extent always gives an idea of magnificence, and we must
acknowledge it worthy of royalty. As compared with the public buildings
in England, those of France have generally this advantage, that there
seems to have been no want of power; and this alone gives a degree of
pleasure. Their taste may not be good, but they seem to do all that it
requires; whereas, in the buildings of London, it seems as if more would
have been done, and more space occupied, if the means had been
accessible. In France, on the contrary, inside and outside, the idea of
ample space is always communicated. The inside of the Tuilleries I have
postponed, in hopes that the king will go to Fontainebleau, which it is
said he will do shortly.
We now come to the Louvre, which was begun by Francis I.; and one
portion of it was completed under Henry II. Francis ordered designs from
Serlio; who had, it is said, the modesty and good sense to prefer those
of Pierre Lescot, abbot of Clugny, to his own, and magnanimity to say
so. Every body knows the story of Bernini, who, on seeing the designs of
Claude Perrault for the eastern front, told Louis XIV., that with such
an architect in Paris, it was quite useless to send for one from Italy.
Le Grand treats this as a fable, probably originating in what really
took place between Serlio and Pierre Lescot. I do not like these
transfers of generous deeds; they always lessen the faith with which one
reposes upon their truth. Mercier, under Louis XIII., continued the
designs of Lescot; enlarging however the plan, and erecting the central
pavilion in the east side with the caryatides; the space between that
and the angle having been originally intended to form the entire court.
After building the celebrated gallery, Perrault erected a third order
round part of the court, which was not completed till under Napoleon.
The architecture of this building is very much superior to that of the
Tuilleries, and I willingly add my suffrage to that of every body else,
as to the beauty of its eastern front. In what does this beauty consist,
what are its defects, and how might they on another occasion be avoided?
These are questions very important to an architect, and such as he ought
to apply to every fine building which he sees.
I think its beauty may be attributed to three sources. The simplicity of
the outline, and general distribution; the excellence of the
proportions; and the depth of the gallery, which gives a fine and
impressive mass of shade. The chief defects are the great arched windows
in the side pavilions, and the arch over the central doorway, cutting
the basement entirely in two. The basement windows are rather too high,
and they would probably be better if square-headed. The side doorways of
the central pavilion are on the contrary rather too low. There is a
certain want of simplicity, arising chiefly from the above-mentioned
defects, but partly also from the division of the edifice into five
parts, of which the centre wants consequence; and from the unequal
spacing of the doubled columns. Compared with other edifices of that
period, and even with those of the present day, the design is
beautifully simple; but if brought to the standard of the beau ideal, we
find something to desire in that respect. After all the admiration so
constantly given to the simple architecture of the Greeks, and the
praise so uniformly bestowed on those modern buildings which offer the
same character of simplicity, it seems astonishing at first view, that
it should be so difficult to persuade architects to be simple. The
proportions, and even the ornaments of the basement, the columns, the
entablature, and the balustrade, are just what one would wish. They are
all beautiful, all suited to one another, to the general disposition,
and to one essential peculiarity, which consists in the coupled columns
of the galleries. I have heard it sometimes disputed whether single
columns would not have been preferable. If the question be, whether a
more beautiful building might not be formed by columns placed singly,
than by columns placed in pairs, the discussion is reasonable, and
perhaps the general and true answer would be in the affirmative; but it
would no longer have been the same design. No one could propose to put a
single column in the place of each pair: the straggling weakness of such
an arrangement would be insufferable. They must be placed nearer
together, and this would bring the windows nearer together. The lower
windows would then appear crowded: other arrangements must be made to
obviate this defect, one thing depending on another, till step by step
the whole composition is changed. Perhaps it would have been better if
the architect had omitted altogether the central pavilion, and continued
the gallery in an unbroken line; all the piers and pairs of columns
being equally spaced, and the three lower middle openings made a little
larger than the rest, and brought down to the ground as doors. The side
pavilions would have remained unaltered, except that the middle window
of each on the principal floor would be of the same size and form as the
others. This arrangement would not admit any carriage way, but the
design is not calculated for a carriage way, and it would look better
without one. In praising the ornaments, I ought to have excepted the
oval tablets over the windows, which are not pleasing.
The front of the Louvre towards the Seine, is also a noble piece of
architecture, very much in the style of the eastern façade, but it not
only wants the relief produced by the deep gallery, but the single
arrangement of the columns has obliged the architect to bring the
windows of the basement too near together, and it consequently wants
solidity and repose: here we see something of what modifications would
be necessary to adapt single columns to this design, and their effect.
Another example of this sort is at the Garde Meuble, in the Place Louis
XV., and the building is very beautiful; yet the architect has not
altogether succeeded, and this front is decidedly inferior to that of
the Louvre. The piers of the basement are too slender, and the gallery
wants the fine depth which gives so much effect to the celebrated work
of Perrault. Added to this, the sham porticos of the side pavilions,
with their unmeaning pediments, seem to be squeezed in between the two
bits of wall which bound them. In the inside of the court of the Louvre
we have quite another style of architecture, but this also is very fine.
Though composed of a great number of little parts, yet with some
exceptions the arrangement is clear and obvious, and the effect rich and
handsome. Of the inside of this vast collection of buildings, I have
seen only the rooms of sculpture, and the great gallery. The staircase
to the latter is magnificent, but rather narrow for its object, its
accompaniments, and for the scale of the building; and as for the rest,
these rooms offer more to be avoided than imitated. In my dreams for
buildings, which have been sufficiently numerous, I have sometimes
endeavoured to obtain a gallery of enormous length, imagining to produce
thereby a magnificent effect; but I am now completely cured of any such
attempt; the result is neither grand nor beautiful, and though the
multiplied faults of these apartments might be avoided, yet I am
convinced that it is an arrangement which no art could render agreeable.
These galleries are not at present open to the public, but I obtained an
order of admission from M. du Fourny. The lower rooms are vaulted, with
abundance of painting and gilding on most of the ceilings,[14] but the
effect is heavy; they are not high enough for such a disposition of
their parts. The hall of the Apollo is a vault of no great elevation,
with five smaller arches cutting into the principal one on each side,
for as many windows and niches. The Apollo did occupy a niche at the
end, with a column of granite on each side of it. The light falls rather
too horizontally upon those statues which receive it the best, but those
on the same side with the windows receive it from below, it being
reflected from the pavement; at least this was very strongly the case
when I was there, the sun shining brightly into the room.
The Salle du Laocoon has a somewhat similar arrangement, with three
windows; the ceiling is rich with painting and gilding, and this is
good; but the windows, instead of being cut up into the vaulting, are
kept below a continued cornice, which makes the want of height more
sensible, and renders the direction of the light still more unsuitable
to the exhibition of the statues.
The Salle des Hommes illustres has seven windows. It is divided into
three parts by eight columns of gray granite disposed in pairs, the
middle division being the smallest. This disposition is bad. The middle
division ought to have been the largest, and even then it would not
deserve much praise; the ceiling of the end is coved, that of the middle
groined; the walls are painted to imitate the granite columns. This
would have been incomparably better done by our best London workmen; and
as we may reasonably suppose that in such a situation, the best painters
Paris could furnish were employed, it is fair to conclude that we exceed
them in this respect. The room which contains the Diana has a
waggon-headed ceiling, panelled and painted white, with gilt mouldings.
The handsomest room by far is the Salle des Muses, which has never been
finished, but which contains nevertheless some very fine statues. The
walls are covered with beautiful marbles, for the most part of a dark
colour, which suits the sculpture exceedingly well; and they are
finished with a very handsome cornice; but the vault occupies too large
a proportion of the height, and is besides, all white, which makes it
obtrusive.
The two middle parts of the great gallery of pictures are now occupied
by tapestry; the other parts are still crowded with too many pictures,
and a large portion are very fine pictures. The defect of height is here
still more sensible than below. To look well, it should at least be half
as high again, and even that would be scanty. The light is introduced
differently in different parts. Sometimes there are skylights on both
sides, and sometimes windows on one side or the other, or on both. The
light is in most parts introduced rather too low, but if they were all
lighted from the skylights there would be little cause to complain; and
why they are not, it would be difficult to explain, for the external
distribution of the openings would, I believe, give two ranges of
windows, or windows and skylights, on both sides, all along. The ceiling
is waggon-headed, the ornament rather frippery, and the divisions, which
seem intended to indicate a suite of apartments, are not good in
themselves, and have a very insignificant appearance. They are formed by
arches springing from coupled columns; and here again is a paltry little
central division: this however is not of much consequence, as the
extravagant length does not permit one to catch the disposition at any
single point of view.
The Palais de Justice is not a handsome building; the architecture of
the wings is disproportionately small; they are not well connected with
the centre; and the openings are everywhere too large. There are the
materials of good architecture, but not well proportioned, nor well put
together. It is very possible to spend a great deal of money to make a
building beautiful, and utterly to fail, without any gross fault being
committed; a truth of which many edifices both in France and our own
country bear witness, and this among the rest. The inside is not better
than the out, and the great hall, formed by a double vault supported on
piers running down the middle, does no honour to the architect.
The Palace of the Luxembourg has a sort of ambiguous merit which it is
difficult to understand. There is certainly something good in it, but I
cannot undertake to define what that something is. Without dwelling on
the rusticated columns and pilasters, repeated on each story, and the
awkward manner in which the windows are inserted in the lower arches, we
may observe, that the sort of half correspondence between the open
arches of the gallery in the Rue Tournon, and the windowed arches of the
elevated pavilions, is disagreeable; and that the central building is
too trifling for the extent of the edifice. It would form a pleasing
centre to the gallery only, supposing the pavilions taken entirely away.
Or if the pavilions remain (with the loss, however, of the roof), an
unbroken line of gallery would be better than one divided by this
central elevation. On entering, the galleries to the right and left have
a fine effect, which, however, is rather lost when we mount the little
staircase to the galleries of painting: the rooms in which the paintings
are exposed are not handsome. One of the finest of the internal parts of
this building is probably the great staircase to the Chambre des Pairs.
The paintings of Rubens you have heard enough of; they are rich and
splendid, and that is all; the subjects are foolish, and the figures,
for the most part, disgusting. Those of Vernet are good views, but one
goes away and forgets them. There are some other works of the French
school, of which those of Le Sueur and of Philippe de Champagne are the
best.[15]
The French admire the garden; I think it paltry, and the more so from
its unmeaning length, extended to the observatory. Time, however, will
improve it, by changing into trees the little sticks which now border
the walks.
The court of the Palais Bourbon, or of the Corps Legislatif, does not at
all satisfy my eye. The portico, and indeed, all the ornamental
architecture, is too small in proportion to the mass which backs it. The
pilasters are straggling, and this gives an appearance of littleness to
the whole. On the opposite front, the grand portico wants depth; it
seems a mere screen; and the middle door at least, ought to have had
twice its present dimensions. The details of the mouldings and ornaments
are but indifferent. I have heard it observed that the flight of steps
is too high, and diminishes the apparent size of the columns; this may
be true, but on the other hand, when a portico is extended to twelve
columns, the composition will want height, and a lofty basement becomes
necessary. Perhaps the architect would have done better to have used
only ten columns in the same extent, and making them larger, brought
them down to the first flight of steps. When an artist, instead of
inventing new combinations, merely adopts the form of an ancient
Corinthian temple, one has a right to expect that his attention should
be peculiarly directed to just proportion, and beautiful ornament; but
at the same time, this simple arrangement is so elegant in itself, and
so rarely exhibited, that we must feel obliged to the artist who
designed it, for having sacrificed the praise of ingenious novelty, to
give so noble an example of the ancient form. If the opposite Temple of
Glory, or Church of the Madelaine, should ever be completed, the
assemblage of fine architecture presented to the eye from the Place
Louis XV. could hardly be matched in the world.