MASTER of SCIENCE in ARCHITECTURE

Home , Intercolumniation, Outline of architecture, The Primitive Hut

Four Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Thinkers on the

A Thesis submitted to the Division of Research and Advanced Studies of the University of Cincinnati

In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

MASTER of SCIENCE in ARCHITECTURE

In the School of Architecture and Interior Design of the College of Design, Architecture, Art, and Planning 2012

Florentina C. Popescu

BA, Academy of Economic Studies, Bucharest, Romania, 1998 BA, University of Bucharest, Bucharest, Romania, 2002 MA, University of Pittsburg, Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, 2004

Committee Members: John E. Hancock (Chair) Patrick Snadon

Abstract

In modern architectural discourse, true architecture has been associated with the removal of ornament, simplicity, or transparency. While the importance of truth in modern architectural theory has been extensively documented, this study disentangles the internal complexity of the notion of architectural truth. It does so by examining those architectural practices that were rejected in the name of truth, and the terminology that designates their characteristic untruthfulness, in order to trace contrasting notions of truth in the history of architectural theory. It looks at four architectural theorists of eighteenth and nineteenth century Europe:

Marc Antoine Laugier, Carlo Lodoli, Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin, and John Ruskin.

There were two distinct notions of truth that coexisted in these authors and in eighteenth and nineteenth century architectural literature. The first relates truth to necessity, and requires the exclusion of those elements that were redundant relative to the structural or material logic of the building. The second refers to the ways to ascertain the truth of the architectural display, and requires the exclusion of those elements that interfered with the understanding of the building. The first is opposed to fault, imperfection or abuse, and is associated with functionality, while the second is the antonym of deception, and concerns intelligibility.

This study concludes that the distinction between truth as function and truth as intelligibility can elucidate a number of ambiguities in the history of architectural theory. It explains the difference between Laugier and Lodoli, both of whom adhered to some version of functionalism, but diverged over certainty/intelligibility. It explains the position of Ruskin, who

was not a functionalist, yet was engaged with truth in architecture; the distinction between

functionalism and intelligibility explains his stance better than other readings. Finally, the idea of intelligibility emerges as the main contribution of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries to the genealogy of modernist architecture, with a continuity that functionalism cannot provide.

Keywords

Truth, certainty, intelligibility, deception, rationalism, architecture, functionalism

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Dedication

To my family

Acknowledgement

I thank John E. Hancock and Patrick Snadon, my advisors and most inspiring professors.

Their grace, patience and support have made this thesis possible. Special thanks are due to

Augustin Ioan for providing crucial comments on my work. I thank my sister, Viorica Popescu, for stirring my interest in architecture in the first place. I thank past and current faculty of the

School of Architecture and Interior Design: James Bradford, Aarati Kanekar, Nnamdi Elleh, and

David Saile. I thank the staff of the School of Architecture and Interior Design, particularly

Ellen Guerrettaz Buelow, who provided invaluable administrative assistance over the years. I am greatly indebted to all those who helped me, in countless ways, complete this work. Final thanks are due to the University of Cincinnati for financial support and an amazing library.

Table of Contents

Abstract ______2 Keywords ______3 Dedication ______5 Acknowledgement ______6 Table of Contents ______7 Table of Figures ______9 Preface ______13 I Introduction ______14 I.1 Background ______15 I.2 Literature review ______23 I.2.1 Topp ______23 I.2.2 Forty ______25 I.2.3 Rizzuto ______27 I.2.4 Ameri ______29 I.3 Structure of the argument ______32 II Eighteenth century ______35 II.1 Marc Antoine Laugier ______35 II.1.1 Essay ______36 II.1.2 Avertissment ______49 Summary ______53 II.2 Carlo Lodoli ______54 II.2.1 Two interpretations ______54 II.2.1 Principles ______55 II.2.2 Practical reasoning ______57 Summary ______59 III Nineteenth century ______60 III.1 A.W.N. Pugin ______61 III.1.1 Principles - Decorating utility ______63

III.1.2 Construction and convenience ______63 III.1.3 Purpose ______67 Summary ______69 III.2 John Ruskin ______69 III.2.1 The Seven Lamps of Architecture ______70 III.2.2 The Stones of Venice ______77 Summary ______88 IV Conclusion ______89 V Bibliography ______93

Table of Figures

Figure 1. Parthenon, Athens - Greek Doric corner (left), Vitruvian Doric corner (right). In: (left)

ARTstor [database online]. [cited 03 March 2011]. Available from ARTstor, Inc., New

York, New York. (right) Ware, William R. The American Vignola: A Guide to the Making

of Classical Architecture. Mineola: Dover Publishing, 1994. ______16

Figure 2. Southern homes pediments. In: Southern House Plans, http://www.southern-house-

plans.com/southerncharm/pediments.html, 05 July 2012 (accessed 05 July 2012). __ 17

Figure 3. Louvre east side, architect Claude Perrault 1680. In: ARTstor [database online]. [cited

03 March 2011]. Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______18

Figure 4. Façade of the Church of St. Gervais, architect Salomon de Brosse. In: ARTstor

[database online]. [cited 03 March 2011]. Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York,

New York. ______20

Figure 5. Santa Constanza, Rome. In: ARTstor [database online]. [cited 09 July 2011]. Available

from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______21

Figure 6. Secession building, architect Joseph Maria Olbrich. In: ARTstor [database online].

[cited 03 March 2011]. Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______25

Figure 7. Postal Savings Bank, Vienna, Austria, 1904-1906 (image between 1945 and 1959),

architect Otto Wagner. In: ARTstor [database online]. [cited 03 March 2011].

Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______25

Figure 8. Michaelerplatz Building, House for the gentlemen’s outfitter Goldmann and Salatsch

Vienna, Austria, 1910-1912, architect Adolf Loos. In: ARTstor [database online]. [cited

03 March 2011]. Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______25

Figure 9. Purkersdorf Sanatorium, Purkersdorf, Austria, 1904-1905, architect Josef Hoffmann.

In: Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia,

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanatorium_Purkersdorf, 07April 2007 (accessed 07

August 2009). ______25

Figure 10. Maison Carrée at Nimes. In: ARTstor [database online]. [cited 03 March 2011].

Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______41

Figure 11. Louvre, Court Carrée. In: Flickr,

http://www.flickr.com/photos/wenzday01/5916798811 (accessed 07 July 2012). ____ 42

Figure 12. Hotel Soubise, Paris, France. In: ARTstor [database online]. [cited 03 March 2011].

Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______43

Figure 13. St. Sulpice façade, architect Giovanni Niccolò Servandoni. In: ARTstor [database

online]. [cited 03 March 2011]. Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. 47

Figure 14. St. Sulpice interior, architect Louis le Vau. In: ARTstor [database online]. [cited 03

March 2011]. Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______47

Figure 15. Hospice of the Pilgrims in the court of San Francesco della Vigna, from Rykwert, The

Necessity of Artifice. In: Rykwert, Joseph. The Necessity of Artifice: Ideas in

Architecture. New York: Rizzoli, 1982. ______58

Figure 16. Houses of Parliament, exterior. In: ARTstor [database online]. [cited 03 March 2011].

Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______62

Figure 17. St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, architect Christopher Wren: Façade (left) and section

of double dome (right). In: ARTstor [database online]. [cited 03 March 2011].

Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______65

Figure 18. Oxenford Grange Gatehouse, architect A.W.N. Pugin. In: ARTstor [database online].

[cited 03 March 2011]. Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______67

Figure 19. Cast iron spire on the Rouen Cathedral. In: RL. Frazier Photography,

http://kant1.chch.ox.ac.uk/photography/Churches/tn/Rouen_Cathedral_1_20Aug2009

.jpg.html (accessed 10 April 2011).______73

Figure 20. Duomo di Parma – painted by Corregio. In: ARTstor [database online]. [cited 03

March 2011]. Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______74

Figure 21. Ducal Palace, Venice. In: ARTstor [database online]. [cited 03 March 2011]. Available

from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______80

Figure 22. Ducal Palace, Venice, aerial viewpoint. In: ARTstor [database online]. [cited 03

March 2011]. Available from ARTstor, Inc., New York, New York. ______80

Figure 23. John Ruskin The South Side of St. Mark’s: Sketch after rain 1846. In: Quill, Sarah.

Ruskin's Venice: The Stones Revisited. Ashgate Publishing Company, 2000. ______85

Figure 24. John Ruskin Study of marble inlaying on the front of Casa Loredan, Venice 1845. In:

Quill, Sarah. Ruskin's Venice: The Stones Revisited. Ashgate Publishing Company, 2000.

______85

Figure 25. Palazzo Sagredo, sketch by John Ruskin. In: Quill, Sarah. Ruskin's Venice: The Stones

Revisited. Ashgate Publishing Company, 2000. ______85

Figure 26. Palazzo Contarini delle Figure, details. In: Quill, Sarah. Ruskin's Venice: The Stones

Revisited. Ashgate Publishing Company, 2000. ______86

Figure 27. San Giorgio Maggiore, architect Andrea Palladio. In: Quill, Sarah. Ruskin's Venice:

The Stones Revisited. Ashgate Publishing Company, 2000. ______87

Figure 28. Santa Maria della Salute, architect Baldassare Longhena. In: Quill, Sarah. Ruskin's

Venice: The Stones Revisited. Ashgate Publishing Company, 2000. ______88

Preface

This study started with questions about the nineteenth century architectural theorists’ use of the

term “deception” to denote those instances where the structural or material makeup of the building has been deliberately obscured from the viewer. The first obvious implication of the use of the term deception is a displacement of the accent from the way things are made, to how they are seen or perceived. The source of “imperfection” is no longer located in the building

itself, but resides mainly with the viewer. The architect can “assist” the viewer by producing

architecture that is intelligible: “The architect is not bound to exhibit structure; nor are we to

complain of him for concealing it, any more than we should regret that the outer surfaces of the

human frame conceal much of its anatomy; nevertheless, that building will generally be its

noblest, which to an intelligent eye discovers the great secrets of its structures, as an animal

form does, although from a careless observer they may be concealed" (John Ruskin – The Seven

Lamps of Architecture). As such, it differs from another notion of truth that circulated in the eighteenth and nineteenth century, namely that architecture is true insofar as it is born out of necessity. It is this duality in the understanding of truth that this thesis addresses.

I Introduction

Truth is an important part of modern architectural discourse. Previous studies have not done

enough to unearth the complexity of the notion of truth as used in architecture. This study will

trace the lineage of the modern idea of truth in eighteenth and nineteenth century architecture

by looking at those practices that were rejected as untruthful, and the exclusionary logic

associated with such practices.

A key idea for the development of the thesis is the distinction between deception and

related terminology, like fault, imperfection, abuse, or irregularity. Irregularity refers to the

lack of precedent of certain architectural elements within a specified architectural vocabulary.

Abuse, or misuse refers to their unusual placement or shape, relative to their role in the

economy of the building, while fault, or imperfection, reflects the failure to measure up against

an ideal model, the depository of natural perfection. To deceive means to lead into error, to

make one believe what is false.1 It is the viewer’s belief and his cognitive background that ultimately determines whether a building is truthful or not. The architect can assist the viewer by designing a building that is intelligible, easy to understand. The use of the term deception signals a preoccupation not with the truth itself, but with how we ascertain the truth.

A close reading of four architectural theorists, Marc Antoine Laugier, Carlo Lodoli,

Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin, and John Ruskin, reveals that there were two distinct notions of truth that coexisted in the eighteenth and nineteenth century architectural literature,

1 Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd ed. (Oxford University Press, 1989). 14

one that holds that true architecture is born out of necessity, and demands the exclusion of

those elements that were redundant relative to the structural or material logic of the building,

and one that refers to the way the building appears to the viewer, and demands the exclusion of

those elements that interfered with the intelligibility of the building. The first is opposite to

abuse or imperfection, while the second is opposite to deception.

I.1 Background

Eighteenth century architectural theory has been hailed as a precursor of modernist twentieth century functionalism, while the nineteenth century has often been considered an outlier relative to this genealogy.2 Apart from the different connotation of function, from the

eighteenth to the twentieth century, a preoccupation with the proper role of architectural

elements in the economy of the building was not new to the eighteenth century. It can be traced

all the way back to Marcus Vitruvius Pollio, the first century Roman architectural theorist,

whose book, De Architectura, was rediscovered in 1414, spurring the Rennaissance of ancient architecture in Europe. Vitruvius famously criticized the Greek symmetrical manner of placing

the triglyphs in the Doric corner entablature, and required that the triglyphs at the corner be

aligned with the axes of the columns as a testimony to their presumed structural role in a

former timber version of the Greek stone temples (Figure 1).3

2 Neil Levine, Modern Architecture: Representation and Reality (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010), 2. 3 Marcus Vitruvius Pollio, Ten Books of Architecture (Harvard University Press, 1914), Book IV, Chapter 3. 15

Figure 1. Parthenon, Athens - Greek Doric corner (left), Vitruvian Doric corner (right)

All major architectural treaties during the Renaissance contained a section describing architectural “abuses”, some of which mirror Vitruvius’ criticism of the placement of the

triglyphs. Andrea Palladio’s Four Books of Architecture (1570) lists the following abuses, mostly

elements that were incorrectly proportioned, or lack apparent solidity: the use of scrolls

(cartocii) as contra forts, instead of columns and pilasters (the scrolls project out of the cornice

and they represent a soft material), pediments open in the middle (Figure 2), cornices with

projections, which therefore are incorrectly proportioned with the columns. Columns divided

by rings and garlands, which make them look weak, are also “abuses,” as they diminishes the

apparent solidity of the whole structure above them. Palladio agrees with Vitruvius that

triglyphs, modillions and dentils in the cornices should represent the ends of beams.4

4 Palladio, Andrea. Four Books of Architecture. trans. Robert Tavernor and Richard Schofield (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1997), 55. 16

Figure 2. Southern homes pediments

One hundred years later, Claude Perrault repeated some of the concerns mentioned by

Palladio, and added some of his own. In his Ordonnance des cinq especes de colonnes from 1676,

Perrault explains the dynamics of these elements using a language analogy. According to

Perrault, just as in language, “there are different manners of speaking, not all authorized by the rules of grammar, but which are so much authorized by their long usage, that it is not permitted to correct them. But there are others which are not so generally accepted that we cannot fight against their establishment, if they were to be rejected by those who have a reputation to use the language well.“5

Consequently, Perrault accepts that some “abuses” became acceptable through regular

usage. In this category, are included: swelling of the shaft, modillions which are perpendicular

5 Claude Perrault, Ordonnance for the Five Kinds of Columns after the Method of the Ancients (Los Angeles: The Getty Center For The History Of Art, 1996), 166. 17 to the line of the horizon and not on the line of the tympanum, the placement of modillions on the four sides of the edifice and at the cornice which crosses the pediment, placement of modillions on the first floor order instead of the last, where they are consistent with representing the ends of beams, and the placement of the triglyphs other than aligned with the axes of the columns. Others, which are not yet part of the architectural canon, need to be avoided for “increased perfection,” although not absolutely condemned.6 Perrault’s examples of the latter included the interpenetration (engagement) of columns and pilasters, as in the courtyard at Louvre, swelling of the shaft in the middle, coupling of the columns, enlargement of the metopes in the Doric order (the Greek Doric), suppressing the inferior part of the Ionic capital, colossal order running on several stories instead on having one order on each story, fixed proportions not regulated by usage, and assimilating the architrave and the frieze with the cornice. 7

Figure 3. Louvre east side, architect Claude Perrault 1680

6 Perrault, Ordonnance, 113. 7 Perrault, Ordonnance, 112-124. 18

Perrault’s inclusive attitude towards some of these abuses or irregularities became the

pretext for a quarrel between those who were favorable to innovation and those who wished to

defend a certain compliance with ancient precedent, in late seventeenth century France. The

Querelle des anciens et des modernes revolved around Perrault’s double colonnade design on the

second floor of the Eastern wing of the Louvre (Figure 3), the main architectural event in late

seventeenth century France. When Perrault’s design was chosen, he had no experience in

building, but he has just finished his translation of Vitruvius’ Ten Books of Architecture. In the

translation, he advertises the double colonnade as a sixth type of intercolumniation, adding it to

the five classical ones that Vitruvius mentions. He also defended, in a commentary, this new

manner of disposing columns as being more suitable to the modern taste, which favors the

dégagement (the free standing character, as applied to columns) thus far reserved for Gothic

church architecture.8

Although coupled columns had been previously used in French architecture, as in the façade of the Church of St. Gervais (Figure 4), designed by Salomon le Brosse, it was not until

Perrault’s design for the eastern front of the Louvre that the practice came under scrutiny.

8 Robert W. Berger, The Palace of the Sun: The Louvre of Louis XIV (Pennsylvania State University Press, 1993), 94. 19

Figure 4. Façade of the Church of St. Gervais, architect Salomon de Brosse

The members of the Royal Academy of Architecture noted some ancient precedent for it, which

they came across while reading Andrea Palladio’s Four Books of Architecture. There were two instances where paired columns had been used in ancient buildings, one being a fourth century church in Rome, Santa Constanza, where interior columns were coupled radially to support the dome (Figure 5). The other one was a minor temple near Trevi. This did not satisfy Francois

Blondel, the first director (1675-1685) of the newly established Academie Royale d’Architecture, who years later launched a fresh critique, in his Cours d’Architecture, dismissing the two precedents as insignificant, and introducing some new arguments, amongst which was a criticism of the iron reinforced voussoir architrave, the cost of the extra columns, and, finally, the altering of the proportions of the classical orders.9

9 Berger, The Palace of the Sun, 94-98. 20

Figure 5. Santa Constanza, Rome

Perrault retorted to Blondel’s criticism in the second edition of his Vitruvius translation in 1677, by proposing the unthinkable at the time, namely that the proportions of the architectural orders, previously considered to be fixed and universal, and possibly the result of divine revelation, were variable and were instead the result of (educated) human preference.10

Pressed to explain how changing proportions are nonetheless a source of architectural beauty, he postulated two kinds of beauty: “those founded on convincing reasons and those that depend on prejudice.” The first are called “positive,” and are exemplified by “richness of materials, the size and magnificence of the building, precision and neatness of execution, and symmetry,” the second are called “arbitrary” and are those that “depend on one own’s volition to give things that could be different, without being deformed, a certain proportion, form and shape.”11 This relegation of irregularities to tradition was accompanied by a degradation of tradition to the level of arbitrariness.

10 Berger, The Palace of the Sun, 97-98. 11 Perrault, in Wolfgang Herrmann, The Theory of Claude Perrault (London: A. Zwemmer, 1973), 53-55. 21

Marc Antoine Laugier took over from Perrault the fight for “progress” in architecture. Far

from accepting the arbitrariness as the new norm, however, he sought to put architecture on a

firm basis, by completely dismissing all but the “essential” elements of the building as

nonconforming with the new idea of nature that he introduced. Among elements that he

rejected are “necessary” elements, which make the building habitable and “capricious”

elements, those that depend on the will of the artist. Nature is here represented by an

elementary form of architecture called the “primitive hut.” Elements that do not fulfill their

role, as defined by the primitive hut model, are unnatural, defective, or licentious.

Laugier’s exclusionary fervor was double sided. According to his primitive hut model,

architectural elements need to both fulfill their role in the economy of the building and show

evidence of their fulfilling the role. The column would be the support of the building and the

testimony to the building integrity. In order to fulfill their second role, columns need to be

isolated (dégagement), in order to be distinguished from other elements of the building that

compete for the same supporting role, like pilasters and walls. The only reason these two roles

have not been noted is because, for Laugier, truth and certainty are indistinguishable.12

Another twist on this fight against irregularities is authored by John Ruskin. Ruskin

rejected the authority of function/utility/construction over architecture, which he identifies with

uselessness and decoration. All previous “abuses” are acceptable under this new norm, as pure

ornaments, as long as the viewer is not deceived by their appearance into believing that they do

have a function in the economy of the building, i.e. as long as they are intelligible to the viewer.

12 Marc-Antoine Laugier, An Essay on Architecture, 2nd ed., trans. Wolfgang Herrmann and Anni Herrmann (Los Angeles: Hennessey & Ingalls, 1977). 22

The only other rule regarding ornaments is that they were full of life, that is, expressive of the

feelings and mental capacities of those who created them. Incidentally, Ruskin reverses here

previous wisdom about the nature of art when he accepted that a certain disconnect between

the way things are, and how they appear to be, was a necessary ingredient of imagination.13

I.2 Literature review

I.2.1 Topp

This study shares the same method used by Leslie Topp in Architecture and Truth in Fin-

de-Siecle Vienna (2004). Topp declares her approach to be that of the cultural historian, not the

theorist. The discussion of architectural truth is not meant as a contribution to the philosophical

discussion about truth, or even to define what architectural truth is, but to present instead the

various facets of truth that were entertained by architects at the end of the nineteenth century

in Vienna. Topp noted that all modernist, progressive utopias from the end of the nineteenth

century in Vienna shared a reference to architectural truth. This is surprising given the variety

of architectural expressions that came out of the same modernist utopias. A devotion to truth

was invoked both for modernist looking buildings and Greek temple forms.14

Topp makes the point that although the canon of modern architecture has been revised in recent years, to include buildings that were not strictly rational, truth remained rigidly defined. Instead of enlarging the definition of truth, in accordance with the new canon,

13 John Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture (J. M. Dent & Sons; E. P. Dutton & Co., 1956). 14 Leslie Topp, Architecture and Truth in Fin-de-siècle Vienna (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 2. 23

historians of architecture tried to show that modern architecture can be false. This contradicts

the consistent appeal to truth by modern architects. Topp promises to correct this narrow

definition of truth, by showing the extreme fluidity of the notion of truth employed in Vienna of the end of the nineteenth century.15

In order to do that, she analyses four Viennese buildings from the end of the nineteenth century, to see how each of these shed light on this notion of truth from which they claimed legitimacy. These four buildings are: The Secession Building (1897) designed by Josef Maria

Olbrich (Figure 6), The Postal Savings Bank (1904-1912) by Otto Wagner (Figure 7), The

Michaelerplatz Building (1909) by Adolf Loos (Figure 8), and Purkersdorf Sanatorium (1904-5) by Josef Hoffmann (Figure 9). The Secession Building was home to a group of artists who left in

1897 the Association of Austrian Artists, following the lead of painter Gustav Klimt. It claims to embody a truth to “purpose” and “modern life,” as well as a “metaphysical truth derived from subjective artistic inspiration”.16 The Postal Savings Bank is a demonstration of “pragmatism” and “frugality,” but also of an “inner truth” whose architectural expression is the grandiose glass roof over the courtyard.17 The Michaelerplatz Building, home to the tailoring firm

Goldman and Salatsch, was imagined as “plain,” and non-ornamental, making a statement

across the street from the Michaelertor wing of the Imperial Palace.18 The Purkersdorf

Sanatorium was a monument to science and a therapeutic tool at the same time.19

15 Topp, Architecture and Truth, 22. 16 Topp, Architecture and Truth, 29. 17 Topp, Architecture and Truth, 97-8. 18 Topp, Architecture and Truth, 132. 19 Topp, Architecture and Truth, 64. 24

Figure 6. Secession building, architect Joseph Maria Figure 7. Postal Savings Bank, Vienna, Austria, 1904-1906 Olbrich (image between 1945 and 1959), architect Otto Wagner

Figure 8. Michaelerplatz Building, House for the Figure 9. Purkersdorf Sanatorium, Purkersdorf, Austria, gentlemen’s outfitter Goldmann and Salatsch Vienna, 1904-1905, architect Josef Hoffmann Austria, 1910-1912, architect Adolf Loos

I.2.2 Forty

In Words and Buildings (2000), Adrian Forty proposes a tripartite classification of truth as used in architecture. Structural or constructional truth is the notion that architectural form should follow the structural and material logic of the building, along the lines of Marc Antoine

Laugier and Carlo Lodoli, in the eighteenth century, or A.W.N. Pugin and Friederic Schinkel in

the nineteenth century. Expressive truth is the notion that architectural form is the expression

of the essence of the building, or of the genius of the builder, a Romantic ideal that, according to

Forty, John Ruskin promoted in the “Lamp of Life,” from The Seven Lamps of Architecture, and in

“The Nature of Gothic,” from The Stones of Venice. Finally, historical truth is the notion that

architecture should conform to the age in which it was built. The distinction between structural

and expressive truth is important, because it allows Forty to make sense of Ruskin’s seemingly

confusing stance on structural rationalism. Forty points out that Ruskin, far from

recommending a theory of structural truth in The Seven Lamps of Architecture, argues for the suitability of deception when it creates an “aesthetic response” in the viewer.20

Forty thinks that the crusade against deception in eighteenth century architecture is rooted in the redefinition of truth that took place in the wake of the scientific revolution. On the side of science, this generated a desire to look for explanations based on direct observation and guided by reason. On the side of philosophy, it enabled aesthetics to become a distinctive branch of knowledge, separated from morals and ethics.21

Previous to these developments, it was generally acknowledged, according to Forty, that art bears a certain kind of truth, as an imitation of nature, but, at the same time, it can engage in the deceptive practices. In fact, it is precisely through deception that art creates pleasure.

Examples of such deceptive practices were, according to Forty, seventeenth century instances of

20 Adrian Forty, Words and Buildings: A Vocabulary of Modern Architecture (New York: Thames & Hudson, 2000), 301. 21 Forty, Words and Buildings, 294. 26

trompe l’oeil naturalism. Forty cites as evidence Freart de Chantelou’s account of Bernini’s

“assessing of the contrapposti so that things should not appear to be simply what they were, but

should be drawn in relation to objects in their vicinity that change their appearance.” The

adoption in architecture of more stringent notions of truth effectively ruled out the “coexistence

between truth and deception” that was typical of the Baroque period.22

There are several points where this thesis differs from the interpretation provided by

Forty. First, Forty uses deception as synonymous to illusion, while in this study deception implies both the existence of an illusion and a failure to recognize illusion for what it is. It is

this cognitive failure that intelligibility is trying to address. Second, Forty includes, under the

umbrella of expressive truth, both concerns related to the intelligibility of the building

(“expression of the design of the building”) and nineteenth century ideas that identify true

architecture as the expression of the genius of its author. Finally, while Forty relates expressive

truth with nineteenth century Romanticism, this study relates certain aspects of what Forty calls

“expressive” truth and demands of certainty of the truth of architectural expression that started

in the eighteenth century.

I.2.3 Rizzuto

Anthony Rizzuto’s Tectonic Memoirs: The Epistemological Parameters of Tectonic Theories of

Architecture (2010) provides a thorough analysis of theories of truth pertinent to the period

considered in this study. In his thesis, Rizzuto contrasts two major epistemological paradigms

in the eighteenth and nineteenth century, which he calls Rational and Poetic tectonics. Rational

22 Forty, Words and Buildings, 294. 27

tectonics would be represented here by Marc Antoine Laugier, while Poetic tectonics would be

represented by Carlo Lodoli.

The parallel between Laugier and Lodoli reveals the existence of two different notions of

truth. On one side is the idea that truth comes out of the making (verum ipsum factum) that

Carlo Lodoli inherited from Giambattista Vico. Vico was an eighteenth century Neapolitan

philosopher who was critical of the Cartesian metaphysical tradition. On the other side is the

Cartesian notion of truth as certainty, which Laugier introduced to architecture, thus bringing

intelligibility to the forefront on the architectural discourse.

For Vico, cognition starts by identifying similarities between particulars, not with ideas

impressed upon the mind, like for Descartes. Rizzuto refers to this theory as

Particolareggiamento, or the “mythical-poetic reasoning of the particular,” borrowing a term from

Marco Frascari.23 The mythical-poetical characterization reflects the fact that cognition starts

with poetic imagination and not with reason. Reasoning from particulars is incompatible with

perfection or absolute certainty, but not incompatible with truth. Rizzuto, following David

Verene, points out that Vico criticized Descartes for failing to distinguish between truth and

certainty. According to Rizzuto, interpreting Vico, the Cartesian cogito does not reveal the

truth, but rather the shadows in Plato’s cave. Truth is not only knowledge of the object, but of

how it is made, its causes.24

23Antony Rizzuto, “Tectonic Memoirs: The Epistemological Parameters of Tectonic Theories of Architecture” (PhD diss., Georgia Institute of Technology, 2010), 369-375. 24 Rizzuto, “Tectonic Memoirs,” 379-381. 28

Rizzuto concludes that “Lodoli never attempted, as many of his contemporaries did, to

produce a system or set of rules to govern architectural production. Rather he sought to outline

basic principles that describe how systems, or styles, arose in the first place”. He was not

searching for a “true ‘form’ of architecture” resulting from the imitation of a natural model, but

considered architecture to be “a man-made invention, a product of 'human' reality and

meaning.” The result was a variety of architectural forms, representing as many solutions to

particular problems, subject to distinct cultural-historical conditions. None of these forms can

be measured against another. The history of architecture is in turn “a collection of experiments

in architectural expression.”25

The importance of this analysis for the current study stems from the identification

between the architectural idea of intelligibility and the demand for certainty with regard to the

truth of the architectural display. Intelligibility is only a virtue within a view of architecture

that relies on a firm theoretical basis as a precondition for truth.

I.2.4 Ameri

In “On the Place of Culture in the Theoretical Edifice of Architecture,” (1993) Ahmed

Ameri looks at the reasons behind Laugier’s rejection of pilasters as substitutes for columns.

What is of interest to this study is Ameri’s note that pilasters are rejected not because they cannot fulfill the same function that columns do, but precisely because they can. This means that Laugier entertains other reasons for his rejection, besides functionality, in this case, the clarity of representation or intelligibility of the architectural composition.

25 Rizzuto, “Tectonic Memoirs,” 410-11. 29

Ameri establishes an interesting connection between John Ruskin, Marc Antoine Laugier

and Leon Battista Alberti around their shared aversion towards “culture”. Ameri looks at their

treatment of the “particular” as a proxy for this alleged aversion towards culture. According to

Ameri, Alberti only accepted the particular when related to need, as in the demands of a

“prince” or a “tyrant.” Ruskin declared that architecture is only that part of building that rises

above need, and thus above the particular. Ameri focuses on those ways in which architects

tried to “universalize the particular,” in order to control it.26

Ameri thinks that Laugier’s exclusion of the pilaster is the paradigmatic example of the degrading treatment of the particular that characterizes architectural theory: “Column in this case epitomizes the universal and the absolute, or all that is beautiful and perfect in architecture, whereas the deprecated pilaster is emblematic of the particular and the arbitrary, or all that is “destructive” to a Natural Architecture.”27 The pilaster is a support that is based on

“whim,” while the column is based on “nature.”

At first sight, it looks like Laugier attempted to discriminate between the two means of support based on their form: the column is round, while the pilaster is square; the pilaster is not natural, since “nature does not make anything square.”28 However, points out Ameri, Laugier himself named many things in nature that are square. The reasoning behind this exclusion of the pilaster is, in fact, the idea that “nature has one way,” so the same “effect” cannot be

26 Amer H. Ameri, “On the Place of Culture in the Theoretical Edifice of Architecture,” Architectus, the International Journal of Theory, Design, and Practice, St. Paul, Minnesota, Spring/Summer issue (1993): 25-26, 29-30. 27 Ameri, “On the Place of Culture”, 30. 28 Laugier, in Ameri, “On the Place of Culture,” 36. 30

brought about both by means of the “round” and the “square.” The univocal relationship

between the architectural form and its function guarantees that the relationship is instantly

recognized when one contemplates the form of the building. Natural architecture cannot accept

diversity because the aesthetic effect that one experiences when the truth of the building is

revealed would be lost: “If and when there is no doubt about the truth of the architectural display [columns] present, a majestic effect is experienced.”29 The conclusion is that the

acceptance of pilaster as a substitute for column makes it impossible for the viewer to

experience the assurance of the truth that comes with the unicity of the representation.

This paper intends to shed some light on the different meanings of truth that circulated in

eighteenth and nineteenth century architectural theory. This is done by looking at those

practices that were rejected as untruthful, and the terminology used in relation to these

practices. The parts of the paper are organized in a mixed, thematic, and chronological manner.

The first part is centered on the eighteenth century and describes the introduction of

architectural theory of a new concern with truth as intelligibility of the architectural display,

which coexisted with older notions of truth as functionality or necessity. The second part is

centered in the nineteenth century and shows how the idea of truth as intelligibility persisted

even when the idea of truth as necessity diminished in importance. The last part looks at the

broader impact of these ideas for the history of architectural theory.

29 Laugier, in Ameri, “On the Place of Culture,” 37. 31

I.3 Structure of the argument

Part II traces the origin of the notion of architectural intelligibility in Marc Antoine

Laugier’s Essay on Architecture. Laugier’s trademark contribution to architectural theory was his insistence on the solidity of architectural orders, which, at the time, were only used as a wall decoration. While Laugier rejects the apparent solidity of previous architectural compositions,

and insists that the orders should really support the building and not just decorate it, he also

rejects other means of support of the building, particularly the pillars and arches combination.

While he brands the pillar/pilaster as unnatural [substitute for column], and a fault, he argues

that the pilaster will create confusion with regard to the truth of the architectural display, while

the column leaves no such doubt. Laugier’s striving for certainty [of the truth] of the

architectural display, in light of his Cartesian background, adds a new layer to the architectural

discourse. In order to provide certainty, the architectural composition has to display a certain

clarity, or intelligibility, which is the opposite of confusion or deception.

The quest for certainty separates Laugier from another eighteenth century architectural

theorist, Carlo Lodoli. While Lodoli and Laugier have often been assimilated as co-founders of

early functionalism in architecture, they belonged to different philosophical traditions. While

Laugier brough a Cartesian perspective to architecture, while Lodoli followed the philosophy of

Giambatista Vico, who provided an alternative to the Cartesian metaphysical tradition. Vico

specifically criticized Descartes for his sourcing of truth in “ideas impressed upon the mind”

and his failure to distinguish between truth and certainty. Alternatively, Vico held the idea that

the truth comes out of the making (verum ipsum factum). In architecture, this means that truth

32 comes out the design process, in response to a practical problem. Not only does truth come out of the making, but only the maker has complete access to the truth of its making. This makes the architect not only the “creator” of the “truth”, but also its privileged depositor. Incidentally, this also means that absolute knowledge is only accessible to God, who is the absolute Maker.

This view of knowledge differs markedly from the confidence exhibited by Descartes with regard to the cognitive possibilities of man. Part II concludes that the quest for certainty is the main contribution of the eighteenth century to modern architectural theory. The preoccupation with deception represents a methodological shift in architecture, from how the building is made to how one can ascertain the truth of its making. This explains why the assimilation of Laugier and Lodoli as forefathers of functionalism did not convince. Instead it is their divergence around certainty that better defines eighteenth century architectural theory.

Part III follows the use of the term deception in the works of nineteenth century architectural theorists A.W.N. Pugin and John Ruskin. The term deception is used by Pugin in four instances: plaster, “a modern deception,” cast iron, for being painted to look like stone, a tall façade hiding a normal size church, and mansions built in the Abbey or ecclesiastical style, to look like churches. Ruskin provides a whole taxonomy around the term deception: structural, material, operative. Deceptions can be concealing or assumptive. Deceptions can be necessary. Deceptions can be subtle. What is more interesting however, it that Ruskin’s concern with perception overrules his concern for the reality of the building. A building can be gilded, as long as everybody understands that gilding does not signify a building is made of gold. Similarly, everybody understands that there are no real clouds on the cupola of the

cathedral of Parma painted by Correggio.30 Deception implies a distance between appearance and reality, distance which, in John Ruskin’s opinion, is also a precondition of art in general.

The specific difference is that art, for nineteenth century architectural theorists, is accompanied by a complete knowledge of the nature of things, in this case the structural and material makeup of the building, while deception is not. The way to identify those elements that are outside of art needs to be therefore a “beyond possibility of mistake” understanding of the building. Part IV proposes resolutions to some ambiguities in the history of architecture in light of this study. First, it dispenses with the notion that functionalism was the main contribution of the eighteenth century to architectural theory, since (apparent) function was a much earlier

concern. Second, it explains the philosophical differences between Laugier and Lodoli, who

have often been conflated as precursors of twentieth century functionalism. Third, it provides a

continuous narrative from the eighteenth to the twentieth century. Modernist historians of

architecture considered Ruskin to be outside of this narrative, for his denouncing of functionalism. This study shows that Ruskin fist into the genealogy of modernist architecture if we considered intelligibility to be the connecting element.

30 John Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 47-49. 34

II Eighteenth century

Marc Antoine Laugier scandalized architectural connoisseurs in the first half of eighteenth century France with his brand of minimalistic architecture, which demanded the elimination of all but the most essential elements of a building, even of those elements that make a building habitable, like walls and windows. His work has been the target of scathing critiques like the one in Opinions in Architecture by Giovani Batista Piranesi, who claimed that it would bring about the end of architecture as an art and its replacement with monotonous construction.31

Piranesi’s Opinions is set up as a debate between a master and a disciple, each defending a

position similar to that of Carlo Lodoli and Marc Antoine Laugier.32

II.1 Marc Antoine Laugier

Marc Antoine Laugier (1713-1769) was an eighteenth century French Jesuit monk. He is

known in the history of architectural theory for proposing a stripped down architecture,

composed of only those elements that are essential to the structural makeup of the building.

This elementary form of architecture would presumably follow from a strict imitation of nature,

nature that was represented by a hypothetical primitive hut. Laugier wrote two books, Essay on

31 Giovanni Battista Piranesi, “Opinions on Architecture.” In Observations on the Letter of Monsieur Mariette; with Opinions on Architecture, and a Preface to a New Treatise on the Introduction and Progress of the Fine Arts in Europe in Ancient Times, Giovanni Battista Piranesi, ed. Francesco Dal Co and Michelle Bonnice (Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, 2002), 110-111. 32 Rizzuto, “Tectonic Memoirs,”407. 35

Architecture, published in 1753 and Observations on Architecture, published twelve years later. It

is the Essay that will be the focus of this study.

II.1.1 Essay

In his Essay on Architecture, Laugier introduced to architecture the mechanistic view of the

world that Descartes brought to philosophy. Within this view, understanding a building is

tantamount to discovering its structural makeup or mechanism, the same way that

understanding specific architectural elements means pointing to their role in this mechanism.

Ever since Aristotle, understanding a phenomenon has been theorized in terms of discovering

causes. In Physics, Aristotle claims that “knowledge is the object of our inquiry, and people do

not think they know a thing until they have grasped the “why” of it, which is to grasp its

primary cause.”33 Aristotle identified four such causes: the efficient (“what makes of what is made and what changes of what is changed”), formal (“the form or the archetype”), material

(“that out of which something comes and it persists”), and final cause (“the end or that for the sake of which a thing is done”).34 With the seventeenth century scientific revolution, the

efficient cause gained prominence over all the other causes. Descartes reduced explanation to

identifying the efficient cause and the mechanism that links the efficient cause with the thing to

be explained.35 The discovery of the cause also required a method that would indicate how to proceed in an error-free manner. For Descartes, this method consists in renouncing all

33 R. P. Hardie and R. K. Gaye, trans., “Selections from Aristotle's Physics, Book II, Chapter1, 192b9- 192b11 to Book II, Chapter 3, 195a27-195a27,” in The Complete Works Of Aristotle, ed. Jonathan Barnes (Princeton U. Press, 1984), 329-333. 34 R. P. Hardie and R. K. Gaye, trans., “Selections from Aristotle's Physics”, 329-333. 35 Gordon Baker and Kathrine J. Morris, Descartes’ Dualism (London, New York: Routledge, 1996), 150.

prejudices and starting from only those ideas that were clear and distinct, which in the case of

Descartes is the famous Cogito ergo sum. In architecture, the equivalent of the Cogito is Marc

Antoine Laugier’s primitive hut, which he promoted as a “model” and a “principle.”

According to Laugier, architects need to follow this model in order to carry over the

truthfulness of the first principles. Steering away from the principles, on the other hand, opens

the door to error.

II.1.1.1 Methodical doubt

Laugier writes in the Preface to his Essay on Architecture (1753) of his intention to set out

principles that would be used to make rationally motivated, educated choices in architectural

practice. This is meant to reverse the custom of deriving rules from a simple inspection of

ancient buildings, thus letting both beauty and fault to creep into the norm:

“It seems to be that in those arts which are not purely mechanical it is not sufficient to know how to work; it is above all important to learn how to think. An artist should be able to explain to himself everything he does, and for this he needs firm principles to determine his judgments and justify his choice so that he can tell whether a thing is good or bad, not simply by instinct but by reasoning and as a man experienced in the way of beauty.”36

In describing his cognitive process, Laugier alludes to the feelings that various buildings impressed on him. He noticed those feelings to be largely shared between himself and others37,

therefore he concludes that: firstly, there are “essential beauties,” which are independent of the

senses, secondly, that architectural design is susceptible to the same properties as any other

36 Marc-Antoine Laugier, An Essay on Architecture, 1. 37 Wolfgang Herrmann points out that Laugier’s exposition does not refer to the experimental method, as it might look like to a modern mind, but to the doctrine of universal approval as a confirmation of innate ideas. Universal approval, however, is not infallible, and needs to be balanced by reason. In Wolfgang Herrmann, Laugier and Eighteenth Century French Theory (London: A. Zwemmer, 1962), 41. 37

operation of the mind, namely “coldness or vivacity,” “exactness or disorder;” and thirdly, that

architecture, like any other art, requires a measure of inborn genius, which is nonetheless to be

regulated by laws.38 On the road to identify the cause of these effects, he first hits upon

“uncertainty and obscurity.” Through “doubt” and “conjectures,” he reaches a place of certainty from which he can proceed in identifying the causes. This becomes the subject of the rest of his architectural treatise.39

In the “Introduction” to his Essay, Laugier distinguishes between two sides of architecture: the mechanical, or rough side, the one that common people presumably have in

mind when they think about architecture, and the more sophisticated, “mysterious” part of

architecture, which is only penetrated by a few, and which consists of bold inventions, precise

proportions, elegant ornaments.40 He then ranks several historical types of architecture

according to these criteria: the Greeks instantiate perfection, the Romans took a step back, while

the “new” or “modern” style of architecture, namely the Gothic, exhibited an ignorance of

proportions, and “piled on, bizarre” ornamentation. However, the Gothic is not without merits,

for it also exhibits “boldness,” “delicacy,” “majesty,” and “disengagement (dégagement).”

Finally, Laugier salutes the Renaissance of ancient architecture, but warns of the danger of

falling again into “barbarity.”

38 Laugier, Essay, 3. 39 Laugier, Essay, 4. 40 Laugier, Essay, 7. 38

II.1.1.2 The “Cogito”

In the first chapter of the Essay, Laugier introduces the primitive hut, an elementary

construction founded on “simple nature.” The primitive hut is meant to provide shelter to the

“primitive man” seeking protection from the elements. The man “choses four of the strongest

[branches] and raises them upright arranged in a square; across their top he lays four other branches; on these he hoists yet from two sides another row of branches, which, inclining towards each other, meet at their highest point.”41 This is not a historical description of the

origin of building, but, according to Laugier, a description of the “natural process” that art is set to imitate. Laugier refers to the primitive hut as a “model” and a “principle.” This model provides the foundation of architecture, but is also the yardstick by which architectural production is measured.

Rizzuto points out that, despite the similarity in language, what Laugier presents here is

not the classical theory of art as imitation of nature, but a theory of imitation of “la belle nature,”

a mechanistic image of nature. The work of art is no longer a “re-presencing of creation,” but a

realization of an abstract model. This reconceptualization of nature owes, according to Rizzuto,

its origin and force to the ever increasing influence of the epistemology of science on

seventeenth and eighteenth century aesthetics. Failure to recognize this reconceptualization is a

major flaw in contemporary accounts of eighteenth century architectural theory.42

41 Laugier, Essay, 12. 42 Rizzuto, “Tectonic Memoirs,” 222-224. 39

II.1.1.3 Elements

By following the model of the primitive hut, it is possible to distinguish between those

elements that are “essential” [to the composition of an architectural Order], those that are

“necessary,” and those that are “capricious.” The first are generative of beauty, the second the

root of “license,” while the third are the root of error. The translation of the primitive hut into

architecture is the Greek temple, the upright pieces giving the idea of a column, the horizontal

ones the idea of an entablature, and the inclining ones the idea of a pediment. Examples of

essential elements are column, pediment, and entablature. Necessary elements are walls,

windows and doors. The essential elements, together with a convenient form and context are

sufficient for perfection. Laugier also rejects Roman, arcuated architecture, as well as

excessively ornamented Renaissance and Baroque architecture, which were interpretations of

the Roman: “So far there is no vault, still less an arch, no pedestals, no attic, not even a door, or

a window.”43

The building that approximates this elementary kind of architecture is the Maison Carrée

(Figure 10), “a rectangle where thirty columns support an entablature and a roof - closed at both

ends by a pediment (...).”44 Maison Carrée was a well preserved Roman temple at Nimes

(France), built about 12 BC, in the Corinthian order, and dedicated to Lucius and Gaius Caesar,

adopted sons of Roman emperor Augustus.

43 Laugier, Essay, 12. 44 Laugier, Essay, 13. 40

Figure 10. Maison Carrée at Nimes

Laugier proceeds to talk about the form that these elements (column, entablature, pediment, multiple stories, windows and doors), should have, and about their proper form and placement. In chapter two he discusses the various orders of architecture and what they have in common, as well as buildings that don’t have any orders. A third chapter contains observations on the nature of building, grouped along the classical triad, “solidity”,

“convenience” and “bienseance.” The fourth chapter discusses churches, a fifth chapter deals with towns, and a sixth one with gardens.

II.1.1.4 Faults

The first chapter is dedicated to the “faults” that characterized modern architecture.

Most of these so-called “faults,” or imperfections, are a reiteration of the “abuses” that Claude

Perrault lists in his Ordonnance des cinq especes des colonnes.45 According to Laugier, columns

should be straight, detached, round, diminished from bottom to top, bear immediately upon the

pavement, and not be raised on a pedestal. Defective are columns that are engaged, pilasters,

45 Perrault, Ordonnance, 112-124. 41

swelling of the shaft at a third of the height, pedestals, spindle-shaped, and rusticated (texture

variance from top to bottom), fluted or twisted columns. When columns need to be engaged, as

when walls fill the space between them, the degree of engagement should be minimal.

Negative examples are the engaged Doric columns on the ground floor of the portal of the

church of St. Gervais de Paris, the Church of the Jesuits in rue St. Antoine, or the inner

courtyard of the Louvre (Figure 11).

Figure 11. Louvre, Court Carrée

Also defective are the columns raised on pedestals of the Hotel Soubise (Figure 12), or on the

altar of the Church of the Jesuits in rue St. Antoine or the twisted columns on the baldachin at

St. Peter’s tomb in Rome modeled on the columns that the Byzantine Emperor Constantine

donated to St. Peter’s back in the fourth century.46

46 Laugier, Essay, 14-20. 42

Figure 12. Hotel Soubise, Paris, France

The entablature (the horizontal piece that rests on columns) should not have projections or recesses and should rest immediately upon the columns and not on arches. The use of arches brings about the use of square pillars and imposts and prevents the column from fulfilling its natural role, which is supporting (the entablature), and not being supported, and also forces the columns to bear on the side, instead of perpendicularly, “as they are designed by nature.”47

With regard to pediments, there are defects with regard to placement and form. The pediment, being the gable of the roof, should be limited to the extremity of the roof and not be located in the middle of the building, should be triangular and not arched, should not be broken in the middle, should only be placed above the entablature and not be piled on top of another

47 Laugier, Essay, 22-24. 43

pediment. Examples of defective pediments are on the east side of Louvre, with its flat roof, a

balustrade upon the entablature and a pediment interrupting the balustrade, or superimposed

pediments on the portal of the Church of St. Gervais in Paris.48

When multiple stories are required, the heavier orders should be placed below lighter orders (Doric at the bottom, Ionic in the middle, and Corinthian or Composite on top), and each

story should be limited to one order only. All elements suggestive of a roof must be reserved

for the higher stories, as it would be absurd to build on top of a roof. Defects are pediments on

the lower orders, colossal orders, porte-a-faux or solid masses that are placed on top of void.49

With regard to windows, semicircular, curved, or arched windows are to be avoided, as well as

those placed above the cornice.50 Likewise, niches, or hollows in the walls, as well as sculpture placed into these hollows, are detracting from the beauty of the building.

II.1.1.5 Orders

In his second chapter, Laugier rehearses some of the classical ideas about architectural orders and gives his blessing to the prospect of a French order. He accepts only three classical

(Greek) orders, and considers the Tuscan and the Composite to de derivations thereof, which he uses to emphasize yet again the indebtedness to the Greeks, as far as architecture is concerned.

He finds fault with the Gothic and “Arabesque or Moorish” orders, for being “too heavy” and

“too light,” respectively. Heaviness and lightness with their counterparts, clumsiness and fragility, are Laugier’s criteria for choosing among the orders. Indeed, thinks Laugier, “The

48 Laugier, Essay, 25-27. 49 Laugier, Essay, 27-32. 50 Laugier, Essay, 32-38. 44

three Orders understood in this way, appear to cover the whole range of art, satisfying all needs

and tastes. (…) There, ingeniously accomplished, is the whole graduation from solid to delicate!

It will, therefore, always be extremely difficult to add something new to such a fortunate

discovery.”51

Later on, he criticizes the Vitruvian base to the Ionic order and praises Scamozzi for giving the Ionic capital volutes on all four sides.52 He endorses the Vitruvian solution to the

Doric corner entablature, i.e. the placement of triglyphs in concordance with their presumed role in a former timber structure. 53 He recommends the same with regard to the Corinthian order, advising for the placement of the modillions and dentils in accordance with “the rules of carpentry”. Even at the Maison Carrée, the placement of such elements is faulty, reckons

Laugier, which is, once again, why copying ancient buildings is ill advised.54 He has no qualms against “enriching” the orders by means of “rich materials,”i.e. marble, bronze or gold, or “rich work,” as when the parts are sculpturally decorated. Decoration, however, should have “well

defined contours” and be “unaffected,” and limited to low relief, which to Laugier’s satisfaction

effectively rules out the Gothic and the Arabesque. The Chapelle de Versailles is his choice of

proper decoration. 55

As for buildings that do not consist of the Greek Orders, there are three criteria that are used to judge the beauty of a building: “accuracy of proportions,” “elegance of forms,”and

51 Laugier, Essay, 41. 52 Laugier, Essay, 49-50. 53 Laugier, Essay, 47. 54 Laugier, Essay, 55-56. 55 Laugier, Essay, 59-61. 45

“choice and distribution of ornaments.” Proportions are not arbitrary, reckons Laugier, contrary to what was proposed by Perrault, but fixed and specific to the “character” of the building, the character being a combination of style and destination.56

II.1.1.6 Virtues: solidity, convenience, bienseance

In the third chapter of his Essay, Laugier gives his thoughts on the solidity, convenience, and propriety (bienseance) of buildings. Solidity is what makes the building stand up, and as such serves the essence of the building. Moreover, solidity guarantees that the building leaves a mark for posterity. Solidity includes the choice of material and its efficient use. “The great secret of true perfection of the art consists in joining solidity to delicatessen.”57 Inefficient use of materials, on the other hand, will translate into heaviness. In this respect, Gothic churches are superior to those built in the ancient style. “The view of Notre Dame de Paris, the most eminent of Gothic buildings in Paris impresses more admiration on a viewer,” according to Laugier, than the sight of St. Sulpice, “the most eminent of (…) the antique style,” with its “heavy arches set between heavy pilasters of a very heavy and coarse Corinthian order, and (…) the heavy vault the weight of which makes you fear that the heavy supports might be insufficient.”58

(Figure 13, Figure 14)

56 Laugier, Essay, 62-63. 57 Laugier, Essay, 75. 58 Laugier, Essay,101. 46

Figure 13. St. Sulpice façade, architect Giovanni Niccolò Servandoni

Figure 14. St. Sulpice interior, architect Louis le Vau

Convenience is what makes a building habitable, while bienseance, which is Perrault’s translation of Vitruvian décor,59 includes suitability of decoration to the purpose of the building

(e.g. no pagan sacrifices or monstrous figures in churches, simplicity in hospitals), suitability of

59 Germain Boffrand, Book of Architecture, ed. Caroline Van Eck, trans. David Britt (Ashgate Pub Ltd., 2003), XXXI. 47

size/magnificence to the same purpose (e.g. the grand Dome des Invalides could be used as a

burial place for the kings of France to save bienseance instead of lying useless; large avenues or

courtyards are suitable for large buildings), and proper features of public squares. Any

ornament in excess of what is required by bienseance is to be avoided.60

II.1.1.7 Churches/Gothic

His fourth chapter, on churches, is mainly an exposition on Gothic architecture, since

most cathedrals at the time dated from the medieval period. Here, Laugier expresses his ambivalence towards the Gothic: on one hand, he does not appreciate the Gothic, which he calls

“architecture moderne,” as opposed to the “ancient style”; on the other hand, he admits that it has certain qualities, like elevation and lightness, which he would like to see replicated in contemporary architecture. He reckons that architects had done only an imperfect job emulating these qualities, and urges them to strive for the same elevation and lightness without copying the Gothic manner of construction, but by using superimposed orders and free standing columns. Double columns, a la Perrault, are also recommended, as they allow for more width in the intercolumniations. A barrel vault would top this imaginary structure, a vault that would be supported by flying buttresses. All of these features add up to a building that is, first, “natural and true,” “according to simple rules and (…) great principles,” and, second, “elegant and delicate.” Third, it will bring about a suitable placement of windows.

Fourth, it will produce the elevation required for a majestic effect, without the use of colossal

60 Laugier, Essay, 98-99. 48

columns or irregularities. Fifth, the barrel vault would lose its heaviness due to the height.

Sixth, proper decoration would add “splendor and magnificence.”61

Round domes should be prohibited, out of concern for the improper junction between

the round dome and the rectangular plan of the building. If one is really desired, however, a

faux one is preferable, since it does not need much support. As to the exterior of the churches,

Laugier recommends that care should be taken to disguise the presence of structural elements like buttresses, in order to conform to classical sensibilities. Laugier commends the execution of such disguising in the church of St. Peter’s in Rome.62

Finally, towers can be built using orders, providing a few rules are respected: the recession of the upper stories, the elimination on the lower stories of all parts of an entablature, replacement of the square shape by an octagon starting on the second story, and the use of free standing columns which will make the tower “an open work,” “light and delicate.” He recommends Gian Lorenzo Bernini’s project for St. Peter’s Square in Rome.63

II.1.2 Avertissment

Georg Hermann, author of a monograph on Laugier, thinks that the most explicit

exposition of Laugier’s doctrine is contained in the Avertissment to the second edition of his

Essay. This is where Laugier responds to an anonymous critical review of the first edition, entitled Examen d’un Essai sur l’Architecture.

61 Laugier, Essay, 104. 62 Laugier, Essay, 110, 114. 63 Laugier, Essay, 117. 49

The author of the Examen purports to systematically dismantle Laugier’s theoretical

edifice, first, by taking aim at the idea that free standing (isolated) columns better express their

“origin and destination.” On the contrary, he thinks, isolated columns look lighter, so they are

better left for the upper stories. Secondly, he disputes the idea that nature does not make

anything square, and that therefore pilasters are an unnatural substitution for columns,

pointing out that there is plenty in nature that is a different shape than round. He does agree

with Laugier on the swelling of the columns, because it lacks ancient precedent, and the

columns thus swollen seem to have crushed under a heavy weight. Fourth, he mentions several

reasons why columns should be raised on pedestals, contrary to Laugier. Finally, he disputes

the idea that a pilaster is a substitute for a column, considering it a buttress and an ornament.

According to the author of the Examen, pilasters are as ancient as architecture, and are “the most

rich, simple, convenient ornament there is.”64

In his response, Laugier dwells almost exclusively on the latter argument, the identification of pilasters with ornament. He strikes back at his anonymous critic for justifying his acceptance of pilasters, not with rational arguments, but with claims about the antiquity of the practice and its universal acceptance. Any abuse could be similarly justified, reckons

Laugier: Gothic ornament, though grotesque, was liked for centuries and the works of

Francesco Borromini are still copied in Rome. If art is not founded on principles, thinks

Laugier, there is no other rule than caprice. Therefore, principles are needed to check on innovations: “You cite custom – but how many customs are not really abuses; experience – but how often that has been proved false; practice – but to how many irregularities has this led? (…)

64 Étienne La Font de Saint-Yenne, Examen d’un Essai sur l’Architecture (Paris: Michel Lambert, 1753), 21-32. 50

There is no hope to progress in the arts if all is confined to imitating things already done.”

Finally, Laugier points out, pilasters cannot be ornaments, since ornaments are “accidental”

features, which can be removed without the essence of the building being disturbed. Nor is the

pilaster the proper support of the building, since that part is univocally taken by the column, for which the pilaster is but a poor substitute. Since the pilaster is neither the proper support for a building, nor an ornament, it cannot find a place in true architecture.65

The novelty of Laugier’s justification for the elimination of pilaster can be seen by comparison with Jean Louis de Cordemoy’s Traite d’Architecture (1706), which Laugier himself cites as an inspiration. Allan Braham (1980) points out that Laugier and Cordemoy, although otherwise similar, justify their preference for columns in very different ways. “Cordemoy says with engaging disingenuousness that this taste of his is perhaps a foible, but one which he shared with the ancients, while Laugier, like other thinkers of his generation, built his views into a complete system, and by referring to the origins of architecture could assert that his taste, far from being a foible, was one sanctioned by Reason and by Nature.”66

The pilasters would be instantly eliminated just by reverting to the times when the parts of an architectural order were part of the building itself, instead of just decorating the building:

“I should like to convince everybody of a truth that I myself believe absolutely, namely, that the parts of an architectural Order are the parts of the building itself. They must therefore be applied so that they not only adorn but actually constitute the building. The existence of the building must depend so completely on the union of these parts that

65 Laugier, Essay, 150-52. 66 Allan Braham, The Architecture of the French Enlightenment (University of California Press, 1980), 49. 51

not a single one could be taken away without the whole building collapsing. (…) No longer will these pilasters and these entablatures plastered over the solid mass of the building be taken for true architecture; they are so much decoration only that one can destroy the whole architectural layer with a blow of a chisel without the building losing anything but an ornament. On the other hand, free standing columns which carry the entablature never leave one in doubt about the truth of the architectural display they present because one feels that none of these parts could be touched without causing damage and ruin to the building.”67

Hermann points out that Laugier’s idea was truly revolutionary, for he is proposing no less than having the actual construction of a building be formed by elements previously regarded as decoration. This would allow all parts of a building to be so interconnected that nothing can be removed without the whole of the building being destroyed. Referencing the interconnection of the parts and the whole allows Laugier to place his brand of functionalism in line with traditional architectural theory. Herrmann points out that the doctrine of the whole and the parts was likely derived from common intellectual stock, a paraphrase of Aristotle’s’ rule that in poetry (poiesis) “the structural union of the parts should be such that if any one of them is displaced or removed, the whole will be disjointed and disturbed.”68 Previous to

Laugier, however, the interrelationship between the whole and the parts had been understood only in an “abstract”, “aesthetic” sense. “And although the Orders have been taken to illustrate in a perfect way this interrelationship, thus reproducing the process of nature and the workings of the macrocosm,” to quote again from Herrmann, “at the same time they were held to be distinct from the ‘core’ of the building and gradually came to be identified with the Beauty, the third part of the Vitruvian triad, the section dealing with ornaments and decoration of the

67 Laugier, Essay, 152-53. 68 Aristotle, Poiesis VIII, 4, trans. S. H. Butcher, in Herrmann, Laugier and Eighteenth Century French Theory, 20. 52

facades.” What is new is that Laugier understands the interrelationship between the whole and

the parts not abstractly, but in a concrete way. Herrmann explains: “While previous

architectural theorists were content with apparent solidity as applied to the Orders, Laugier is asking for actual solidity.“69

Summary

Laugier’s main contribution to architectural theory is the idea that architecture should return to actual solidity with regard to its use of the architectural orders. Secondary to this is the idea that the combination of columns and entablature is the only one that provides not only actual solidity, but also the certainty about the existence of solidity. Alternative means of support of the building should be prohibited, because they lack the reassuring effect that the columns provide. While Laugier displays some continuity with previous ideas about the functioning of the building, as shown by his reference to the doctrine of the parts and the whole, he conceives the interaction between the whole and the parts in quantifiable terms, along the lines of

Cartesian mechanical philosophy. Within this framework, the building is a mechanism that can be evaluated for “efficacy and clarity of representation.”70

69 Herrmann, Laugier and Eighteenth Century French Theory, 20-22. 70 Rizzuto, Tectonic Memoirs, 347. 53

II.2 Carlo Lodoli

Carlo Lodoli, a Venetian Fransciscan friar whose works have been lost, save for the

rendition of his ideas by his followers and commentators, came to be of interest to historians of architecture for his identity between “function” and “representation,” which resonated with twentieth century modernist architectural ideas of function as utility. Anthony Rizzuto suggests that what Lodoli understands by the unity between function and representation is not that the form needs to reflect utility, or even the inner workings of the building, but that the design evolves in response to a practical problem. Function is not utility, and representation is not imitation of an ideal type.71

II.2.1 Two interpretations

Those who wished to read Lodoli in a rationalist key used, as a guide, the monograph

authored by Francesco Algarotti, and entitled Saggio sopra l’architettura (1757), the only

monograph on Lodoli to be published during his lifetime. The “humanistic” interpretation is

based on a monograph by Andrea Memmo, entitled, Elementi d’architettura lodoliana, published

in 1786, some twenty five years after Lodoli’s death. Memmo’s monograph was especially

destined to correct the partial interpretation offered by Algarotti. Algarotti portrayed Lodoli as

a rigorist/rationalist who wanted to strip architecture of all ornament, along the lines of Laugier:

“Those who wish to have no ornament which has not got some wherefore, seem too stingy to

you…nor do I wish to embrace the system of such rigorists wholeheartedly; to want that

71 Rizzuto, Tectonic Memoirs, 392. 54

everything which is shown [in rapresentazione] should also be a working part [in funzione] is to

want too much. What might the function of the leaves on a Corinthian capital be?”72

Edgar Kaufmann Jr. provides a list of the ways in which Algarotti misinterpreted Lodoli: he narrowed his views into an academic system, submitted architecture to rules derived from painting and literature, interpret it him to oppose intuition, precedent, ornament, used utility whenever Lodoli used truth. According to Memmo, cited by Kaufmann, Lodoli did not submit

to a view of pure reason, was a judicious admirer of the past, was not opposed to ornament, but

held that each material has its own manner of ornamentation. Moreover, he did not wish to

leave out of architecture those parts that were useless, or not related to structure, but he did

want to remove parts that were not meaningful or otherwise suitable.73

II.2.1 Principles

The enunciation of Lodoli’s principles is largely shared between Algarotti and Memmo,

since the details of his theory lie in his particular notion of function and representation, and not

in his statements. Following Algarotti, Lodoli must have declared that: “nothing should be

admitted in the representation that is not truthfully in function.”74 Consequently, “no part of a building should be accepted that does not have its own role, or is an integral part of the building, and the ornament should be the result of necessity.” A second principle states that:

“architecture should be such that it agrees with the characteristic qualities, the flexibility or

72 Francesco Algarotti, in Joseph Rykwert, The First Moderns (Cambridge: The MIT Press, 1983), 311. 73 Edgar Kaufmann Jr., "Memmo's Lodoli." The Art Bulletin (College Art Association) 46, no. 2 (1964), 161. 74 Emil Kaufmann translates this corollary as “In architecture only that shall show that has a definite function, and which derives from the strictest necessity.” In Emil Kaufmann, Architecture in the Age of Reason: Baroque and Post-Baroque in England, Italy and France. (Archon Books, 1966). 55

rigidity of its component parts, the degree of resistance, in one word, of the essence or nature of

the material that is used.”75 76

The principles, according to Memmo, are in fact corollaries from an envisaged, but never published treatise by Lodoli77: “True function, true representation are the only two final scientific aims of civil architecture. (…) They should be identified to the point that they are

treated as a single thing. Solidity, analogy and commodity are the essential properties of

representation.” On the other hand, “ornament is not essential, but accessory to true function

and representation.” Furthermore, “no architectural beauty can be found which does not

proceed from the truth” and “authority and habit can only produce a borrowed beauty, related

to ideas which are too vague, and which are not produced by constant causes, but by causes

which may vary from place to place.” Finally, he held that “analogy, commodity and ornament

can only be derived from mathematical-physical elements and by rational norms.” 78

At first sight Lodoli’s principles seem to be on the same page with Laugier rationalist

approach to architecture. Even Memmo commented on the resemblance, reckoning that

Laugier must have heard about Lodoli’s ideas in his travels to Venice.79 Recent commentators, however, pointed out that the real difference between Lodoli and Laugier lies in their different view on function and representation. While Lodoli held the idea that form is determined by

75 Emil Kaufmann, 96-7. 76 Emil Kaufmann translates: “Ornaments, in order to be truthful, must take into account the materials which they are made of.” 77 The treaty sketch is from an 1834 edition of Elementi d’Architettura Lodoliana, which includes previously unpublished manuscripts by Andrea Memmo, by Zara publishing house. In Edgar Kaufmann Jr., "Lodolian Architettura", in In Search of Modern Architecture: A Tribute to Henry-Russell Hitchcock, ed. Helen Searing (The MIT Press, 1982), 31-37. 78 Edgar Kaufmann Jr., "Memmo's Lodoli," 175. 79 Memmo, Elementi d'Architettura Lodoliana, 344-5 56

materials and constructive forces, he did not “instrumentalize” these factors, did not

understand them as a “mechanical exposition of forces.”80

II.2.2 Practical reasoning

Lodoli and Laugier also differ in their attitude towards the practice of architecture. For

Laugier, truth is the exclusive domain of the principles of architecture. The principles are meant to save architecture from the “capricious whims of the artists” whose “teaching has been nothing but a source of error”81. For Lodoli, on the other hand, practice is not a source of error,

but a necessary ingredient in the formation of truth. Rizzuto points out that the highly

theoretical view espoused by Laugier cannot capture the complexity of the lived experience

and, as such, is a very limited tool:

“But as a design process it [rationalism] proved limiting. The definition of techne upon which it stands, technique, is highly theoretical, a form of episteme, which bears little epistemological connection to the lived experience. As such it can provide no true sense of a practicum. It effectively severs theory from practice. (…) [It] begins with an assumed model, mechanical efficiency, which is then analyzed for efficacy and clarity of representation. But there are several problems with this. First, architecture cannot be reduced solely to issues of mechanical efficiency, human need is far more comprehensive. Second, it fails to provide a means of determination of ends.”82

The experimental cognitive process proposed by Laugier is best illustrated by Lodoli’s one-and-only architectural commission, the renovation of the Hospice for the Pilgrims of the

Holy Land, in the courtyard of San Francesco della Vigna in Venice, where he lived. (Figure 15)

The importance of this building as an example of practical reasoning in architecture has been

80 Rizzuto, “Tectonic Memoirs,” 354. 81 Laugier, Essay on Architecture, 2. 82 Rizzuto, “Tectonic Memoirs,” 347. 57

emphasized by Joseph Rykwert (1983), Alberto Pérez-Gómez (1983) and Edgar Kaufmann Jr.

(1982). The following description is based mainly on Kaufmann (1982).

Figure 15. Hospice of the Pilgrims in the court of San Francesco della Vigna

The building was mentioned by Andrea Memmo in his monograph on Lodoli. Memmo, according to Kaufmann (1982), focuses on the window design, with its tripartite threshold and catenary curved sill, counterbalancing the middle piece of the threshold:

“In contrast to most sills, which are made of one piece with the window jambs bearing on the ends of the sill, forcing the center of the sill upward (as in Palladio’s design), Lodoli used a tripartite sill, with the window jambs weighing down on the end parts, while the center part, only as wide as the opening of the window, is load-free; still it was strengthened by the catenary curved shape. The three parts were dovetailed together. Moreover, the sill is being tilted and features a central channel and recessed areas.”83

The top window molding is also made of three parts, to avoid carrying the entire overhead load

to the sides, but transferring the weight obliquely instead. The end parts are doubled to be

83 Edgar Kaufmann Jr., "Lodolian Architettura", 31-37. 58

more resistant. The middle piece has a slight gap in the middle, to avoid the unsightly fracture

that is caused on joined pediments by the wall movement.84

Rykwert (1983) notes that the door design was also special: the doorjambs were divided

halfway and had a reinforcing piece introduced, while the top was enlarged into a semicircle

with “a low relief of the holy protector of the Jerusalem friars, and four sprigs of vine, which

sustained it like a frame or tablet.” Memmo concludes: “if you want ornament which is

appropriate, here it is.”85

Summary

The latest interpretations of the Lodolian contribution to the theory of architecture show him to

be opposed to the kind of abstract logic embraced by Laugier. Although Lodoli stated that

function should be identical to representation, he did not conceived function as an objective

reality that was being represented, and truth as the adequacy of the representation. Instead, he

understood that truth resides in the practice of architecture; it comes out of the process of

design in response to a practical problem. This design process is illustrated by his only

architectural commission, the Pilgrims Hospice of San Francesco della Vigna. Lodoli’s idea of

practical knowledge did not get much traction, although a rationalistic interpretation of Lodoli,

in line with Cartesian metaphysics, was passed on to the nineteenth century.

84 E. Kaufmann, Lodolian Architettura, 34-35. 85 Rykwert, First Moderns, 315. 59

III Nineteenth century

According to Forty (2000) the idea of truth in architecture made it into the nineteenth century

via Francesco Milizia’s L’Arte di Vedere (1797-8). Milizia’s treatise is a not a monograph, but a compilation of major ideas in architecture.

“Architecture being founded on necessity, it follows: 1st that its beauty must borrow its character from this same necessity; 2nd that the ornaments must be derived from the very nature of the edifice, and result from the need it may have for them. Nothing should be seen in a building which has not its use there, and which is not an integral part of it; 3rd that everything visible must be for something; 4th that nothing be admitted whose existence cannot be justified by good reason; 5th that these reasons must be evident, because evidence is the principle ingredient of beauty; architecture can have no other beauty than that which is derived from necessity; that necessity is straightforward and self-evident, it never shows itself in elaborate work, and is revolted by all contrived ornament.

Those who wish to learn to look at buildings must always go back to these unquestionable, constant and general and unbending principles, which are all drawn from reason and from the very essence of architecture. You must ask of every part, who are you? What are you doing here? How do you do your job? Do you contribute in some way to usefulness, or to solidity? Do you fulfill your functions better than another could if he were in your place? (…)”86

Milizia’s mix of Laugier and Lodoli is very obvious in A.W.N. Pugin’s own brand of functionalism. On one side, Pugin accepts the exclusionary logic of Laugier, while at the same time he adopts the notion of truth to materials from Lodoli and rejects ancient Greek architecture as untruthful, for being a stone copy of a wood original.

86 Francesco Milizia, in Forty, Words and Buildings, 297. 60

In turn, Pugin exerted some influence on John Ruskin. Despite their opposite views on

art and architecture, Pugin and Ruskin have a lot in common. It was Pugin that first

complained of the new materials being introduced into architecture, and the technologies

associated with these materials like plaster or cast iron, and deplored the loss of medieval

handicrafts. Ruskin took over these ideas and built his theoretical edifice around them. If

Pugin had mainly aesthetic objections to cast iron ornaments, that they do not cast the same

play of light and shadow and they are deceptive when painted, Ruskin objects on totally

different grounds: cast iron ornaments are deceptive not because of their surface treatment, but

because they mislead with regard to the amount of labor they took to produce. Second, and

more important, they are lifeless, since they do not incorporate the thoughts and feelings of

those who created them. While Pugin entertains both notions of truth, truth understood as

necessity and truth understood as intelligibility, Ruskin preserves only the second meaning. He

rejects the rule of necessity over architecture, and assimilates architecture with ornament, which

previously only had a marginal role.

III.1 A.W.N. Pugin

A.W.N. Pugin (1812-1852) was an English architect of French origin. He learned the

Gothic style from his father, A.G. Pugin, who was a draftsman. While employed by Charles

Barry, Pugin designed the interior decorations of the House of Parliaments (Figure 16). He wrote two books, the first one entitled Contrasts (1836), and the second one The True Principles of

Pointed or Christian Architecture (1841). In 1834, Pugin converted to Catholicism and dedicated a

great part of his writings to prove the existence of a relationship between the ascent of

Protestantism in England and the decay of English architecture. The bad influence goes both

ways, the Classical architecture is also having a bad influence on society, something that he is

trying to make a case for in Contrasts. In the second edition of Contrasts, Pugin shifted his target from the Reformation, to the corrupt state of Catholicism, which embraced “Pagan” symbolism.

Figure 16. Houses of Parliament, exterior

In True Principles, Pugin presented his own version of eighteenth century functionalism, which he calls the “principle of decorating utility,” utility being the equivalent of construction.

His purpose is to demonstrate how various ornamental elements play a structural role within the frame of “true architecture,” which for him is the early medieval or Gothic style. Flying buttresses, bosses, pinnacles, spires are not merely “constructions for effect”, but play a very definite role within the structural economy of the Gothic cathedral. Also, in true architecture,

62 interior and exterior exhibit some degree of correspondence and the appearance of buildings is indicative of their use.

III.1.1 Principles - Decorating utility

Pugin’s rendition of the same ideas claims that, first, “there should be no features about a building which are not necessary for convenience, construction or propriety,” and, second, that “all ornament should consist of the enrichment of the essential construction of a building.” He adds, in a

Lodolian manner: “In pure architecture the smallest detail should have a meaning or serve a purpose and even the construction itself should vary with the material employed and the designs should be adapted to the material in which they are executed.”87 Neglecting these principles, according to Pugin, would result in architectural features being merely tacked onto a building for effect, and ornament “being actually constructed, instead of forming the decoration of a construction”88 [author’s italics].

III.1.2 Construction and convenience

The subject of Pugin’s lectures is “ornament” in relation to construction, convenience and propriety. The discussion of ornament in relation to construction gravitates around three main materials: stone, wood, and metal. With regard to stone, there are four elements that he considered: buttresses, groining and vaulting, pinnacles and spires, and molding; each will be shown to be both necessary for construction and superior to their classical counterparts.

87 Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin. The True Principles of Pointed or Christian Architecture. (1841; reprint, London: Academy Editions, 1973), 1. 88 Pugin, The True Principles, 1. 63

There are several reasons why Gothic architecture is the state-of-the-art masonry

construction.89 First, ancient stone architecture was but an imitation of timber; Greek is the

most ancient and barbarous mode of building. Second, Gothic architecture is more economical,

since smaller size stones are used to achieve a greater height than in ancient architecture. This

new height however, needs to be compensated by buttresses. Buttresses serve a double

purpose, since they add both strength and beauty; “a long unbroken mass of building without

light or shade is monotonous and unsightly,” therefore it requires “projections and breaks”.

Engaged columns could serve to break the monotony of a long wall, but they are superfluous

and have no weight to bear. Moreover, engaged columns cannot project as much as buttresses,

because of the cornice, so their effect is also diminished. Columns should be only used

disengaged, instead of offering the impression that the space between them has been

subsequently blocked, Pugin claimed echoing Laugier.90

With regard to flying buttresses, he points out that they are used to transfer the weight of the nave to the massive lower buttresses. He denounces those “modern critics,” who talk about them as “props” and “bungling contrivances,” yet use them in their own buildings concealed behind screens. Such was famously the case at Sir Christopher Wren’s St. Paul’s

Cathedral in London (Figure 17), whose “ (…) clumsy vaults (…), mere coffered semi-arches, without ribs or intersections, have their flying buttresses; but as this style does not admit of the great principle of decorating utility, these buttresses instead of being made ornamental, are concealed by an enormous screen going entirely round the building. So that in fact one half of the edifice is built to

89 Pugin, The True Principles, 2. 90 Pugin, The True Principles, 4-5. 64

conceal the other. Miserable expedient! Worthy only of the debased style in which it has been

resorted to” (author’s italics).91 Wren’s case of hidden buttresses can be conceived as a double

transgression. First, the screen is not the result of a construction necessity, its only function

being to conceal the structure. Second, the use of a screen takes away from the intelligibility of

the building.

Figure 17. St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, architect Christopher Wren: Façade (left) and section of double dome (right)

With regard to groining, Pugin emphasizes the structural role of bosses, placed at the keystones of vaults, and criticizes the (unnecessary) hanging pendants in Westminster Chapel, which marked the beginning of corruption within the Gothic style. He also decries the flat or four-centered arch, which goes against the vertical principle of Christian architecture, and the

91 Pugin, The True Principles, 4. 65

“bulbous” Tudor spire, prevalent in Dresden and Flanders, which is constructed and not merely

a result of construction, resulting in the “worst possible taste.”92

Pugin finishes off his dissertation on stone construction with some ideas about the structural role of pinnacles and spires, the practical utility of molding, and the jointing of stones, where smaller stones are again preferable to larger stones; small stones increase the apparent scale of a building, while large stones destroy proportion. Pugin also expands on the practicality of pitched, as opposed to flat roofs in letting off the snow, and concludes that “All really beautiful forms in architecture are based on the soundest principle of utility.”93

Metal comes into construction either as connector or support. Hinges, locks, bolts, or nails are concealed in modern design, while in Gothic design they were highly decorated, covering the whole door surface with scroll-work, as at Notre Dame in Paris, St. Elizabeth’s in

Marburg, Litchfield Cathedral, or the Chapter House at York. Metal decorations were not carved or cast, but modeled with pliers out of thin metal plate. Cast iron can be used for support, but not for ornamental purposes, he insists. Since metal requires less material than stone to achieve the same strength, cast iron mullions would look thin, would cast no shadow, and look out of proportion. All castings would reduce the play of light and shadow. Another effect is monotony; since a cast is so expensive, it will be used innumerable times in order to recuperate the investment. The effect is that decoration becomes uniform, and has the same shape regardless of its location. Also, many times cast iron is painted to look like stone, which

92 Pugin, The True Principles, 2-17. 93 Pugin, The True Principles, 10-11. 66 makes it even more deficient.94 With regard to wood construction, Pugin mentions wood mimicking stone vault construction, and being covered in plaster instead of being decorated, as a result of the skill of carving being lost.

III.1.3 Purpose

The demand for intelligibility is even more apparent in the second set of lectures that treat about ornament in relation to propriety, meaning the relationship between the internal and external appearance of a building and its purpose.95 There are three types of buildings that he considers: ecclesiastical, collegiate, and civil. He states that “a proper building is one whose purpose is readable from its external appearance” (Figure 18). He pays most attention to the construction of churches and their veracity: “Nothing can be more execrable than making a church appear rich and beautiful in the eyes of men, but full of trick and falsehood, which cannot escape the all-searching eye of God.”96

Figure 18. Oxenford Grange Gatehouse, architect A.W.N. Pugin

94 Pugin, The True Principles, 26-27. 95 Pugin, The True Principles, 35. 96 Pugin, The True Principles, 38. 67

“Pagan” emblems, like urns, heads of animals, inverted torches, or heads of Gods do not

make appropriate ornaments for churches. Ancient temples lack the functionality of modern

churches; they are not meant for inside worship and do not admit of windows or bell towers.

Since they are typical of warmer climates, they do not have a pitched roof. Since climate and

manners are different in England compared to Italy; architecture should differ accordingly.

He deplores the loss of medieval craftsmanship, which does not allow for revival of the

rich Gothic decoration (e.g. wood ceilings, or even wood houses, are now covered in plaster

instead of being decorated for lack of skillful craftspeople). He claims that the former craftsmen

were artists and the education that they received in church was much better than the education

imparted in contemporary mechanics institutes.97

Pugin makes a distinction between the rational and picturesque kind of Gothic. The

“castellated style,” which sought to imitate medieval fortifications, and the “Abbey style,” which sought to imitate church architecture, are Pugin’s examples for the picturesque. This is what Pugin has to say about the castellated style: “(…) we find guard-rooms without either weapons or guards; sally-ports, out of which nobody passes but the servants, and where a military man never did go out; donjon keeps which are nothing but drawing-rooms, boudoirs and elegant apartments; watch towers, where the house maids sleep, and a bastion in which the butler cleans his plate: all is a mere mask, and the whole building an ill-conceived lie.”98

97 Pugin, The True Principles, 29-30. 98 Pugin, The True Principles, 47. 68

Summary

Pugin’s principles of architecture are very much in line with eighteenth century functionalist

ideas. He introduces the term deception to refer to newer construction practices like cast iron or

plaster, which are not “truthful” in presenting the true, pure, stone Christian architecture that

he favors. These ideas are adopted by John Ruskin later on and placed at the center of his

theory of architecture.

III.2 John Ruskin

John Ruskin (1819-1900), author of the The Seven Lamps of Architecture (1849) and The

Stones of Venice (1851-3), was not an architect, but he wrote extensively on both painting and architecture. He singlehandedly generated a new appreciation for Byzantine architecture in nineteenth century Europe. He held the first Slade Professorship of Art at Oxford from 1870 to

1878. The key to understanding John Ruskin’s architectural theory is to discover Robert Willis, who wrote a book on the Italian Gothic that was undoubtedly the inspiration for Ruskin’s own

The Stones of Venice. Willis distinguishes in Remarks on the Architecture of the Middle Ages,

Especially of Italy between the mechanical and decorative part of construction. The mechanical part is about how the weights are supported; the decorative part is about how they appear to be supported.99 This distinction between mechanical and decorative, between reality and

appearance was turned by Ruskin into the main ingredient of his theory of art. For Ruskin,

appearance and reality do not have to coincide, in fact they had better not coincide because the

99 Robert Willis, Remarks on the Architecture of the Middle Ages, Especially of Italy (Oxford: Oxford University, 1835), 15. 69

distance between them is the main ingredient of imagination. On the other hand, imagination

needs to be balanced by knowledge of the “true nature of things.” Without such knowledge,

you can have deception, but you cannot have art.

Ruskin’s position is a complete reversal of the classical or structural rationalist position,

represented by Pugin, and pioneered by Laugier, where coincidence between appearance and

reality is the precondition of true architecture. Another reversal is the idea that the utility is the

lower, less dignified part of architecture, threatening to weigh down on the useless (decorative)

part, which is pure and simple. Previously, construction and utility were seen as the essential

parts of architecture, and the basis of those attributes that come with their essential status, like

purity and simplicity. Ahmed Ameri (2005) notes that, until very recently, commentators on

Ruskin’s work have either ignored the statement altogether, or, like John Unrau, marginalize it

as “a provocative statement.”100

III.2.1 The Seven Lamps of Architecture

Even from the Introduction, Ruskin declares in The Seven Lamps of Architecture, his intention to demote the utilitarian part of architecture by formulating principles that will prevent it from interfering with the “purity and simplicity of the reflective element.” Tradition cannot be trusted to rebuff this attack, for being corrupted by practice, and also for changing all the time. “Any past practice,” reckons Ruskin, “can be overthrown in a moment, when something new arises.”101

100Amir H. Ameri, "On the Border of the Beautiful," Architectural Theory Review 10 (no. 2, 2005): 12-33. 101 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 3. 70

Ruskin called these principles “lamps,” because they illuminate architectural practice.

The seven principles or “lamps” are: the lamp of sacrifice, the lamp of truth, the lamp of power,

the lamp of beauty, the lamp of life, the lamp of memory, the lamp of obedience.

The “Lamp of sacrifice” identifies architecture with the adornment of building. The

adornment allows building to exert some influence/pleasure on the human mind, as much as it

does on the body. The “sacrifice” refers to the giving of that which is precious in itself, and not

for the sake of utility, ensuing economic considerations for the sake of beauty. Building is

identified with utility and architecture with uselessness:

“Thus I suppose, no one would call the laws architectural which determine the height of a breastwork, or the position of a bastion. But if to the stone facing of that bastion, we add an unnecessary feature, as a cable molding, that is Architecture. It would be similarly unreasonable to call battlements or machicolations architectural features, so long as they consist only of an advanced gallery supporting of projecting masses, with open intervals beneath for offence. But if these projecting masses be carved beneath into rounded courses, which are useless, and if the heading of the intervals be arched and trefoiled, which is useless, that is Architecture.”102

Ruskin makes a point here of rejecting the idea that ornamentation can be excessive, by

claiming that ornament is “never overcharged if it is good, but always overcharged when it is

bad.” Moreover, he adds, some “styles” are more or less susceptible of being ornamented.

“Simplicity, however, is only pleasant when contrasted to the ornamental,” he claims and

would be “worrisome” if generalized.103

In the “Lamp of Truth,” Ruskin distinguishes between imagination and deception in art in general. He then goes on to identify three types of deceits that are specific to architecture.

102 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 9. 103 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 27. 71

First, there are structural deceits, as when a different support than the real one is implied.

Second, there are material deceits, as when a different material than the actual one is suggested,

as in painting a material to look like another one, or deceptively representing sculptural

ornament upon a material. Finally, there are operative deceits, which mislead with regard to

the amount of labor employed, as in the use of machine made ornaments. Ruskin immediately

qualifies his statement, pointing out that some of the so called deceits have become acceptable

through use.104

Examples of structural deceits are ornamental flying buttresses or non-structural pinnacles on late medieval Gothic. “In the lantern of St. Ouen at Rouen, he states, “the pierced buttress, having an ogee curve, looks about as much calculated to bear a thrust as a switch of willow; and the pinnacles huge and richly decorated have evidently no work to do whatsoever, but stand round the central tower, like four idle servants, as they are - heraldic supporters, that central tower being merely a hollow crown which needs no more buttressing than a basket does.” 105

104 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 32-4. 105 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 38. 72

Figure 19. Cast iron spire on the Rouen Cathedral

Here, Ruskin makes a special note of the use of iron as a construction material, as in the cast iron spire of the Rouen cathedral (Figure 19), or the metal roofs and pillars of utilitarian buildings like railway stations. He does not feel that there is a place in architecture for iron as a construction material.106 Architecture having been practiced for the most part in clay, stone, or

wood, reckons Ruskin, the sense of proportion or the laws of structure have been hitherto based

on these materials. Therefore, “the employment of metallic framework would be felt like a

departure from the first principles of art, especially in the first stages until the science behind

the management of iron catches up with new architecture.”107

Examples of material deceits are the ceiling of Milan Cathedral, which simulates fan tracery with painting. Exceptions to this rule are marble veneers, insofar as everybody understands that no building is built entirely of marble. This includes the marble and brick

106 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 39. 107 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 39. 73

mosaic façade of the Ducal Palace in Venice. Similarly, everybody understands that gilding

does not indicate a building made of gold, or that clouds cover the ceiling of the Cathedral of

Parma, painted by Corregio (Figure 20). 108

Figure 20. Duomo di Parma – painted by Corregio

The prototype of operative deceits are cast machine ornaments. They are both bad and dishonest. 109 They are “cold, clumsy”, and “incapable of a fine line or shadow.” They are dishonest because they deceive with regard to the amount of labor necessary to produce them.

Their poor quality makes them, paradoxically, less deceptive insofar as they are instantly distinguishable from the real ones.110 According to Ruskin, dishonesty with regard to

ornaments is even more unacceptable than the previous ones, since it is unnecessary: “for

ornament is an extravagant and inessential thing, and therefore if fallacious, utterly base.”111

108 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 45. 109 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 53. 110 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 56. 111 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 55. 74

There are other more subtle kinds of fallacy, which do not have a definite law. Ruskin

gives an example from the history of tracery and molding. At some point in the development of

Gothic architecture, the molding of the window, i.e. the stonework between the openings,

started to receive increasing attention from the architect, while previously only the tracery was

considered. Eventually, the tracery became so fragile that it lost its essence as a structure of

stone, which Ruskin finds deceptive.112

In the “Lamp of Power,” Ruskin distinguishes between the beautiful and the sublime, the first resulting from the imitation of natural forms, while the second results from the “power of the [human] mind,” and proceeds to discuss the elements of the sublime.

In the “Lamp of Beauty,” he treats of the beautiful, defined as the result of imitating those forms that are most common in nature. Consequently, not all decoration is ornament, but only the one that which is based upon imitation of nature’s most frequent forms, and also upon the imitation of the “higher orders of existence:” flowers over stones, animals over flowers, humans over animals.113 Here he also treats of color in relation to form.

In the “Lamp of Life,” he presents the idea that architecture is an expression of the intellectual life that contributed to its production. The Byzantine workers did not have principles in mind; they built entirely from “feeling.”114 Handwork can always be distinguished

from machine work when men put their heart into it. Machine cutting is “cold.”115 “I believe the right question to ask, respecting all ornament is simply this: Was it done with enjoyment –

112 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 60-63. 113 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 117. 114 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 165. 115 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 169-170. 75

was the carver happy while he was about it?”116 Ruskin laments the loss of vitality among contemporary craftsmen, even though they are preferable to the use of the machine:

“There is a Gothic church lately built near Rouen, vile enough indeed, in its general composition, but excessively rich in detail; many of the details are designed with taste, and all evidently by a man who has studied old work closely. But it is all as dead as the leaves in December; there is no one tender touch, not one warm stroke, on the whole façade.”117

He believes that geometrical colored mosaic, as in the Ducal Palace in Venice, is the only type of

ornament that is accessible to contemporary architecture.118

In the “Lamp of Memory,” Ruskin mentions architecture as the depository of the history of humanity. Two corollaries follow from this, one that contemporary architecture should be rendered historical, and second, that historical architecture should be preserved. Rendering contemporary architecture historical does not mean, for Ruskin, that it should be a reenactment of past architecture, but that it should be durable, so that it will function as a depository of memory for future generations. The memorial function of architecture prevails over its architectural qualities: “For indeed, the greatest glory of a building is not in its stones, nor in its gold. Its glory is in its Age (…).”119 This idea is of course informing Ruskin’s theory of preservation, which was famously opposed to “restoration,” as the death of the building. Any intervention that removes part of the historical fabric of the building destroys its testimonial worth:

116 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 173. 117 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 173. 118 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 174. 119 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 186. 76

“Do not let us talk then of restoration. The thing is a lie from beginning to end. You may make a model of a building as you may of a corpse, and your model may have the shell within the old walls as your cast may have the skeleton… but the old building is destroyed, and that more totally and mercilessly than if it had sunk into a heap of dust…. [If restoration becomes an unavoidable necessity], look the necessity full in the face, and understand it in its own terms. It is a necessity for destruction. Accept it as such, pull the building down, throw its stones into neglected corners; but do it honestly and do not set up a lie in their place.”120

In the “Lamp of Obedience,” Ruskin takes on the subject of a new style. In accordance

with the idea of the chapter, namely that freedom grows out of obedience, he favors in

architecture individual creativity within the existing canon over the radical reinvention of new

forms.

The Seven Lamps of Architecture paint a somewhat puzzling picture of Ruskin’s structural

rationalist credentials. Ruskin starts with the idea that architecture is equal to decoration, and

pledges to remove constructional considerations out of architecture. His later discussion of

truth in architecture can make one believe that he is reverting to some notion of structural truth.

Finally, he proposes that architecture is an expression of the spirit of the builder, and that

architecture is born when the forms meet the spirit that created them. These ideas can be reconciled from a perspective that acknowledges the diversity in the understanding of truth that Ruskin and other nineteenth century thinkers entertained.

III.2.2 The Stones of Venice

The Stones of Venice is a history of Venetian architecture. It is significant because Ruskin exposes his critical apparatus before setting out to analyze the architecture of Venice. The

120 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 196. 77 setting is not random, though, for Ruskin thinks that the history of Venice can afford some very important lessons for contemporary architecture.

The work has three volumes. The first volume, entitled “ The Foundations,” is very

Vitruvian in its structure, with an introductory chapter named “The Quarry,” which details the role that Venice played in the genealogy of Gothic architecture, “The Virtues of Architecture,”

“The Six Divisions of Architecture,” and twenty seven other chapters on different architectural elements: wall, arch, roof, buttress, window, superimposition of floors, ornament, angle, edge, recess, base, shaft, capital, archivolt, roof, vestibule. The second volume, entitled “The Sea

Stories,” includes a detailed review of Venetian architecture, divided into two periods, and corresponding chapters, the Byzantine and the Gothic. The second of these chapters includes a reflection on “The Nature of Gothic.” The third volume, entitled “The Fall” treats of Venetian

Renaissance architecture.

III.2.2.1 The Quarry

“The Quarry” details the role that Venice played in the formation of European architecture. Ruskin believes that Venice was instrumental in the foundation of Gothic architecture, which for him represents the high point of all European architectural history. The

Gothic was presumably the result of three different influences, which providentially came together in Venice: The Greco-Roman, the Lombard, and the Arab. They mingled into one single building, the Ducal Palace (Figure 21), which he calls “the central building of the world.”121 The Gothic declined at the beginning of the fifteenth century, making room for the

121 John Ruskin, The Stones of Venice (Boston: D. Estes & Company, 1911), 31. 78

Renaissance, which Ruskin pledged to discredit in his book. He pledges to do that lawfully,

and not just as a matter of opinion, by establishing universal principles that would once and for

all decide on the good and bad in architecture.

He starts by saying that: “All European architecture, bad and good, old and new, is

derived from Greece through Rome, and colored and perfected in the East. The history of

architecture is nothing but the tracing of the various modes and directions of this derivation.”122

Interestingly, that includes Gothic architecture, normally considered a different system altogether than the Ancient (Greek and Roman). Another first is the inclusion of Byzantine architecture in the history of European architecture, previously ignored.

Ruskin accepts only two orders of architecture (instead of the three Greek ones), and claims that these two orders had generated the whole of European architecture, the rest being just variations thereof.123 He calls them the “concave” and the “convex”, according to the shape of their ornament, the first one being the Doric order and the second the Corinthian. The Doric is the source for Romanesque architecture (Norman, Lombard, Byzantine), while the Corinthian is the source for Gothic (Early English, French, German and Tuscan). These two orders were multiplied by the Romans, who also added the arch. Both were transformed by Christianity, giving rise to Romanesque in the Western part of the Roman Empire, and Byzantine in the

Eastern part.

122 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 27. 123 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 28. 79

Figure 21. Ducal Palace, Venice

Figure 22. Ducal Palace, Venice, aerial viewpoint

According to Ruskin, Romanesque architecture was decaying and ready for a renewal, when the Lombards and the Arabs came, from the north and south respectively, and met in

Venice, a major port city at the time. The Lombards were warriors, providing an infusion of energy to the “enfeebled “Christian architecture, while the Arabs carried “spirituality.” The

Ducal palace in Venice (Figure 22) is where these three influences have an equal share: the

Greeks provided the shaft/column, the Romans contributed the arch, while the Arabs gave the

“pointed and foliated the arch (…).”124 The shaft/column represented the strength, while the pointed and foliated arch the spirituality. Even if the Greeks presumably got their shaft system

from Egypt, it was they who perfected it, according to Ruskin. And if this is the case, then all

three “families” of the world had some contribution: the sons of Ham, Shem and Japeth.125

Ruskin did not stop here, but suggested that even Lombard architecture might have been, in a very tortuous way, a copy of the Roman. According to Ruskin, the Lombards started imitating in wood the Christian basilicas built in remote places of the empire, which led them to formulate the vaulting shaft that they later gave back to northern Italy (in the churches of St.

Ambrosio of Milan and St. Michele de Pavia) when they settled there having migrated from the north of Europe.126

The Gothic eventually declined, making room for the Renaissance. From the Byzantine

period, Venice was left with Torcello, Murano, and St. Mark,127 while from the Gothic period, it got St. John and St. Paul, Frari, San Stefano, and the Ducal palace.128 The Renaissance brought

about a general corruption of the arts. An example of such corruption is, according to Ruskin,

in the Ducal Palace itself. Under Doge Foscari (1424), a renovation of the palace was

undertaken. The architect copied part of the capitals of the old building when renovating the

sea façade. In copying the ninth capital, which features statues of the Virtues, the imitation

124 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 13-14. 125 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 27. 126 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 18-9. 127 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 34. 128 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 35. 81

misses their “hard features and living expression”, replacing it all with Roman noses and curled

hair, from which Ruskin concludes that “The hand of God is gone.”129

The purpose of this book is to draw from the lessons associated with the ascent and decline of the Venetian Gothic in order to apply them elsewhere. Ruskin thinks these lessons afford the formulation of universal laws of design, which would replace national or historical particularities:

“I had always, however, a clear conviction that there was a law in the matter: that good architecture might be indisputably discerned and divided from the bad (…). I felt also assured that this law must be universal if it were conclusive, that it might enable us to reject … without reference to style or national feeling… I set myself therefore to establish such a law… I found the work simpler than I had hoped; the reasonable things range themselves in the order I required and the foolish things fell aside and took themselves away.”130

III.2.2.2 The Virtues

“The Virtues” is a review of the duties of architecture. Architecture fulfills a practical role, consisting of action (shelter) and communication (recording facts and expressing feelings), and an aesthetic one, consisting in providing pleasure.131 The novelty here is communication.

Ever since Vitruvius, the triad of virtues included a chapter on convenience/commodity,

together with solidity and beauty. Ruskin drops the category that is related to use and

introduces a chapter on communication. The difference between communication as a practical

virtue of architecture, and the kind of communication that decoration is capable of, is that one

129 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 44. 130 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 29. 131 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 48. 82

addresses itself to the intellect, while the other to the soul.132 Ruskin excludes communication from his study, however, for being dependent on the context, and therefore not subject to laws.

He then proceeds to establish the laws that regulate strength/construction (including economy

of means) and beauty/decoration.

Decoration is the part of architecture that lets show the affections of the people, their soul, and therefore it is properly human. The first requirement, as far as decoration is concerned, is that there shall be a liking to it, and second, that the liking should be of what is good, for “all noble ornamentation is the expression of man’s delight in God’s work.”133 “The

architect of the Bourges Cathedral liked hawthorns. Nowadays English people do not like

triglyphs but only pretend to”, says Ruskin. The delight that one takes in ornamentation is

subject to reason and totally unrelated with the delight taken in construction.134

III.2.2.3 The Nature of Gothic

In “The Nature of Gothic,” from the second volume of “The Stones of Venice,” Ruskin expands on his idea that architecture should be an expression of the mental capacities of its makers, which he first developed in The Seven Lamps of Architecture. Ruskin claims that the

Gothic , as a style, has external and internal characters, the external characters being the formal expression of buildings, pointed arches and vaulted roofs, while the internal characters are mental qualities, “fancifulness, love of variety, love of richness (…).”135 He looks at the time the

Gothic was born as a period of freedom of creativity for the workmen, in contrast to the slavery

132 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 55. 133 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 58. 134 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 58. 135 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 154. 83

of Antiquity. He also speaks against the division of labor and the overall professionalization of

architecture, which came with the Renaissance, and eliminated the “lower man” from the

creative process. Freedom is accompanied by imperfection, which is a sign of life. Insisting on

perfection in execution always brings about slavery, according to Ruskin. In the context of

Gothic architecture, the characteristic that denotes imperfection is “Savageness or Rudeness.”

Other such qualities are “Changefulness or Variety,” “Naturalism,” “Grotesqueness,”

“Rigidity,” and “Redundance.” They are opposed to “perfection,” “order,” or “monotony.”136

III.2.2.4 Venice

The Stones of Venice is an opportunity for Ruskin to showcase his idea of architectural

truth as an expression of the creative genius of the builder. His description of Venetian Gothic

and Byzantine architecture centers around the decoration of the facades and the materials

employed. He captured his love for these structures in a series of detailed water color sketches

(Figures 23-25). The Byzantine Church of San Donato has a semicircular apse with an

ornamental band composed of sharp wedges of marble previously inlaid and set like jewels into

the brickwork; it features two kinds of bricks, a yellow one and a red porous one serving mainly

for decoration.137

136 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, 154-55. 137 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, II, 3, in Quill, Sarah. Ruskin's Venice: The Stones Revisited (Ashgate Publishing Company, 2000), 46-8. 84

Figure 23. John Ruskin The South Side of St. Figure 24. John Ruskin Study of marble inlaying on the front of Mark’s: Sketch after rain 1846 Casa Loredan, Venice 1845

Figure 25. Palazzo Sagredo, sketch by John Ruskin

Casa Loredan, also a Byzantine building (Figure 24) is for Ruskin the most beautiful

palace on the Grand Canal; the Gothic additions harmonize exquisitely with its Byzantine work;

not so the Renaissance additions above.138 Palazzo Sagredo (Figure 25) has an interesting

tracery and quatrefoil motif that discloses it as Gothic. 139 The Palace Zorzi-Bon at San Severo is

representative of a transitional state from the beginning of the thirteenth century marked by

138 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, II, App. 11, in Quill, 66-7 139 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, II, 7, in Quill, 87-8 85

increased simplicity in architectural ornamentation, moving away from the rich Byzantine

capitals. Its unique magnificence is given by the veined purple alabaster that it is decorated

with.140 And of course, the Ducal Palace, with its checkered pattern of white and pale rose marble, is for Ruskin “the purest and most chaste model (…) of the fit application of color to public buildings.”141

Palazzo Contarini delle Figure is a mixture of the Byzantine application of color with the

“severe” lines of the Roman pediment. Its ornament, however, is indicative of a period of decline (Renaissance), since it is not inlaid in the masonry, but placed in small frames of sculpture fastened onto the building (Figure 26). Some remains of Gothic naturalism are present between the windows on the first floor. Palazzo Contarini delle Figure is the last one to display any color, all the later ones being built in “barren stone.”142

Figure 26. Palazzo Contarini delle Figure, details

140 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, II, 7, in Quill, 96-7 141 Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 4, in Quill, 121 142 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, III, 1, in Quill, 159 86

Later Renaissance buildings (especially the Palladian type) only retain Ruskin’s attention

in a negative way. Here, he makes an interesting shift from considerations of ornament to

considerations of construction. According to Ruskin, Palladio’s San Giorgio Maggiore (Figure

27), in trying to fit the usual basilica form with a Greek temple front, did so with two

superimposed temple fronts, the second coming out of the roof of the first one; “it is impossible

to conceive a design more gross, more barbarous, more childish in conception, more servile in

plagiarism, more insipid in result, more contemptible under every point of rational regard.”143

Moreover, Baldassare Longhena’s design for the Church of Santa Maria della Salute (Figure 28) is impressive for its exceedingly good proportions, which cannot be said about the general style of its architecture: colossal scrolls are meant to disguise its buttresses, “buttresses which it has no need for, since the cupola is said to be made of timber.”144

Figure 27. San Giorgio Maggiore, architect Andrea Palladio

143 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, III Index, in Quill, 170 144 Ruskin, The Stones of Venice, III Index, in Quill, 172-3 87

Figure 28. Santa Maria della Salute, architect Baldassare Longhena

Summary

Ruskin was preoccupied with intelligibility as a way to distinguish between construction and

ornament, construction being the lower or material part of architecture, while ornament is the

higher or spiritual part. He pledges to leave constructional requirements out of architecture , in

order to preserve the purity of the reflective element. This is incidentally the reason for

Ruskin’s famous resistance to the introduction of iron as a construction material. Once

constructional requirements are eliminated, he can concentrate on the aspect that is, for him, the

source of truth in architecture, namely the creative genius of the builder. Ruskin finds the

creative genius of the builder to be especially present in Venetian Gothic and Byzantine

architecture.

IV Conclusion

Functionalism has been hailed as the main contribution of the eighteenth century to

architectural theory. Modernist historians of architecture have tried to recruit eighteenth

century architectural theorists as precursors of twentieth century functionalism. This has been

shown to be unwarranted.

Rykwert (1983) and others have been pointing out that the term function, as used in the

eighteenth century, does not have the same connotation as the term function that was appropriated by modernist architecture. According to Rykwert (1983) the eighteenth century

notion of function refers to a “process,” or “the fulfillment of an office, a public performance,”

and it is “never the attribute of an object, but always the action or suffering of the process

proper to the thing or person of which it is predicated.” Function can be, in the eighteenth century context, “the relation of the members of the structure of a building to each other by the laws of statics.”145 Pérez-Gómez thinks that function in the eighteenth century could even be a

symbol for the “human order.”146

Moreover, as this study has shown, a preoccupation with the function or role of architectural elements in the economy of the building did not start in the eighteenth century, but has been a standing feature of architectural theory since Vitruvius. Vitruvius’ famously recommended that triglyphs, dentils, and mutules of the Doric order entablature be placed

145 Rykwert, The First Moderns, 324. 146 Alberto Pérez-Gómez. Architecture and the Crisis of Modern Science (MIT Press, 1983), 256. 89

according to the structural logic of the timber construction that preceded the Greek temples.

There were obvious problems with his idea, including the fact that the triglyphs appear on all

sides of the building, which is inconsistent with their being reminiscent of the ends of wood

beams. What is remarkable, however, in the Vitruvian fable is the strong connection he requires

between function and representation long after the structural function ceased to exist, although

the symbolic function – portraying forms and details that had become sacred over generations

remained.

The Vitruvian solution to the Doric corner entablature was part of all architectural

treatises from the Renaissance to the eighteenth century. It has been criticized for being

disrespectful to the nature of stone as a material, and consequently for displaying a certain kind

of untruthfulness. Eugène Emmanuel Viollet-le-Duc dispelled this notion, by providing

evidence that the Doric order did not originate in timber, but was a rational type of stone

construction. He pointed out that primitive wood constructions exhibit a forked post beam

support, different than the one that is seen in the Doric order. According to Viollet-le-Duc, the

triglyphs were not the ends of the beams, but were used to relieve the pressure on the

architrave. 147

Furthermore, an interpretation of eighteenth century theorists as precursors of twentieth century functionalism does not provide a continuous narrative from the eighteenth to the twentieth century. As Neil Levine (2010) points out, if the eighteenth century is to be a precursor of twentieth century modernism, it cannot be explained how those early ideas

147 M. Fil Hearn, Ideas that Shaped Buildings (The MIT Press, 2010), 41-42, 60. 90

suddenly disappeared in the nineteenth century to make room for the various historical

revivals, and eclecticism, while ceding to engineering the role of innovation.148 Ruskin is the perfect example of an outlier relative to this genealogy.

In Outline of European Architecture, Nikolas Pevsner decries the nineteenth century preoccupation with ornament, manifested even by figures like Pugin and Ruskin who, he thinks, “might have known better.” If Pugin’s foray into ornament is totally unintended,

Ruskin takes pride in declaring ornament to be the central part of architecture.149

In Ruskin and Viollet-le-Duc. Englishness and Frenchness in the Appreciation of Gothic

Architecture,” Pevsner is puzzled by Ruskin’s engagement with truth, which at first sight seems to be in line with previous structural rationalist thinking, but in the end it is shown to be nominal. He describes Ruskin as “emotional,” “backward thinking” and being guided by

“feeling, “as opposed to Viollet-le-Duc is “rational” and “forward thinking.” Viollet-le-Duc is a

“reporter of facts,” while John Ruskin is a “conjurer with feelings.” Despite their differences, they share an enthusiasm for Gothic architecture, and an engagement with truth in architecture.150

Pevsner notes that Ruskin talks in his “Lamp of Truth” about structural, material and ornamental deceits that are to be avoided, only to start wavering in his commitment to truth

soon after and become accommodating of all these deceits to the degree to which they are

become known. Even “the dishonesty of the machine would cease, as soon as it became

148 Levine, Modern Architecture, 2. 149 Nikolaus Pevsner, An Outline of European Architecture (Penguin Books, 1943), 382-3. 150 Nikolaus Pevsner, Ruskin and Viollet-le Duc (Thames & Hudson), 16. 91

universally practiced, of which universality there seems every likelihood in these days,” writes

Pevsner, quoting Ruskin from Kenneth Clarks’s Ruskin Today, published in 1964.151 What this study proposes is that intelligibility is the notion that explains Ruskin’s place in the theory of architecture. Ruskin does not propose a theory of structural truth, but demands the clarity of representation that would allow one to delineate structural truth from deception.

Intelligibility first became a principle of design in the eighteenth century, with Laugier’s exclusion of pilasters and arches as substitutes for columns and entablatures, as he argues this was necessary to maintain certainty with regard to the truth of the architectural display. For

Laugier, this intelligibility was a separate concern from functionalism, and the confusion between these two concerns explains the mix-up between Laugier and Carlo Lodoli, which started in the eighteenth century and made its way into current interpretations. Lodoli shared

Laugier’s actual functionalism, but not his preoccupation with intelligibility. Instead Lodoli adhered to a theory of truth that does not derive from the Cartesian quest for certainty, but from the idea that truth resides in the making, the actual process of responding to a practical necessity, at a specific place and time. The two ideas were adopted by nineteenth century architectural theorist A.W.N. Pugin. The cohabitation of functionalism with intelligibility ends with John Ruskin, who renounces functionalism, while embracing truth entirely as intelligibility.

151 Pevsner, Ruskin and Viollet-le Duc, 16. 92

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