Character of Renaissance Architecture

by Charles Herbert Moore

Rome

Poleni, in his own book, is not wholly consistent in what he says of the dome. While affirming its form to be admirable and its strength sufficient, and attributing the ruptures to other causes than those inherent in the nature of the design, he yet, in another place, admits that they may be to some extent due to the shape of the vault which he here pronounces not high, or acute, enough.[61] His admiration for Michael Angelo makes it hard for him, as a rule, to find any radical defect in the composition; but this passage, and the fact that he caused the additional binding chains to be applied, would seem to show that he had misgivings, and did not consider the monument so entirely safe as the general tenor of his book would lead us to believe. And the same misgivings are betrayed in what is said by the numerous other writers whose opinions are cited by him, though like himself they write for the most part with a manifest bias in favour of Michael Angelo. Thus one of these writers proposes that the outer covering of lead should be stripped off on account of its weight, and be replaced with copper, to which Poleni objects,[62] affirming that the weight is an advantage, and tends to hold the dome together. Another writer suggests that the lantern be removed in order to relieve the fabric of its weight. Another thinks that the buttresses should be heavily weighted with statues. It was also proposed that additional buttresses should be set against the attic of the drum, and carried up against the dome itself; and again it was proposed that massive abutments be built up over each of the four great piers, but to this it was objected that the additional weight of such abutments would dangerously overcharge the substructure. The most radical suggestion was that both dome and drum be demolished and rebuilt in a more pointed form. All of these suggestions were rejected, and it was finally decided to employ the additional chains proposed by Poleni as already stated.

The dome of St. Peter’s (Plate [III]) was conceived in a grandiose spirit, which, while it drew inspiration in part from the ancient Roman source, recklessly disregarded the lessons which Roman art should teach as to principles of construction. I have said that Brunelleschi led the way in a wrong direction when he set his great dome on the top of its drum, and had resort to clamps and chains for the resistance to its thrusts that should have been given by abutment. In following his example, Michael Angelo wandered still farther from the path of true and monumental art. To make a dome on a large scale a conspicuous object, from the springing to the crown, is a thing that cannot be safely done in stone masonry. To make it stand at all, resort must be had to extraneous and hidden means of support, and even these are of uncertain efficiency for any length of time. The ancient Roman and the Byzantine builders settled, I think, for all time the proper mode of constructing domed edifices. Bramante had recognized this, and while striving to include in his design for the dome of St. Peter’s as much as he could of the new character embodied in Brunelleschi’s dome, he tried at the same time to keep safely within the limits of the principles that had governed the ancient practice. He gave as much elevation to his dome as he thought these principles would allow, but even this, as we have seen, was too much, and in greatly increasing this elevation, so as to leave the dome entirely without abutment, Michael Angelo took unwarrantable risks, and lent his genius to the support of false principles.

That this has not been generally recognized is due to the fact, already remarked, that the architects and leaders of taste of the Renaissance have made too little account of structural propriety, and structural expression, as a necessary basis for architectural design.

Recent writers have ignored the condition of this monument. They do not appear to be aware of it; and although it has been fully set forth, and discussed at great length by the earlier Italian writers, few of them have found the true cause in its flagrant violation of the fundamental laws of stability. They attributed the alarming progress of disintegration, as we have seen, to accidents and circumstances of various kinds; and have sought to shift the responsibility to the shoulders of Bramante. They have affirmed that he did not take enough care to make his foundations secure. There appears to be some justice in this, though since his work was strengthened by his immediate successors[63] the ruptures in the dome cannot, according to the mathematicians, be attributed to this. The remarks of the old writers on Bramante must, I think, be taken with some allowance. Their bias against him is very marked. Thus Poleni quotes Condivi, a disciple of Michael Angelo, as saying, “Bramante being, as every one knows, given to every kind of pleasure, and a great spendthrift, not even the provision given by the Pope, however much it was, sufficed him, and seeking to expedite his work, he made the walls of bad materials, and of insufficient size and strength.”[64]

A great deal has been said of the beauty of St. Peter’s dome. It has been held up as a model of architectural elegance by countless writers from Vasari down. But no abstract beauty, no impressiveness as a commanding feature in the general view of the ancient city that it may have, can make amends for such structural defects. Its beauty has, however, I think, been exaggerated. Its lack of visible organic connection with the substructure makes it inferior in effect to the dome of Florence, where the structural lines of the edifice, from the ground upward, give a degree of organic unity, and the buttressed half-domed apses, grouped in happy subordination about the base of the drum, prepare the eye to appreciate the majesty of the soaring cupola as it rises over them. The dome of St. Peter’s has not the beauty of logical composition. Beauty in architecture may, I think, be almost defined as the artistic coördination of structural parts. As in any natural organic form, a well-designed building has a consistent internal anatomy, and its external character is a consequence and expression of this. The dome of St. Peter’s violates the true principles of organic composition, and this I believe to be incompatible with the highest architectural beauty.

CHAPTER V
CHURCH ARCHITECTURE OF THE ROMAN RENAISSANCE

As for the rest of the church of St. Peter, we need give attention to that part only which was designed by Michael Angelo on the basis of the original scheme of Bramante, namely, all to the eastward of,[65] and including, the first bay west of the crossing. The western bays of the nave as it now stands were, as is well known, added at a later time by the architect Maderna. The plan (Fig. [31]) of the earlier part is thoroughly fine, and if the elevation had been made consistent with this plan, St. Peter’s might have been one of the noblest monuments in Christendom. But the architects of the Renaissance rarely sought consistency in design; they were prone, from first to last, to mix incongruous elements. The essentially Byzantine plan here adopted could not be carried out in elevation with classic Roman details with a noble result; and the attempt which Michael Angelo made to produce an architectural effect foreign to the real structural system led of necessity, not only to such inconsistencies as are common in Renaissance motives, but to some awkward makeshifts which have not, I believe, been hitherto noticed by writers on this edifice.

Following what appears to have been Bramante’s intention, Michael Angelo constructed barrel vaults over the arms of the cross,[66] supporting them on piers and arches which had been begun by Bramante. To this simple and reasonable scheme he applied a colossal order of Corinthian pilasters, a pair against each pier, as Alberti had done on a smaller scale at Mantua, and as Bramante appears to have intended in the great piers of the crossing, if not in all of the others. Apart from the superficial and purely ornamental character of the order, and its inappropriateness as ornament in such a system, its exaggerated scale dwarfs the effect of magnitude in the whole interior. The eye naturally estimates this magnitude by the customary proportions of a large classic order, and while these are by no means fixed, there is an approximate mean scale upon which we base our judgment. No beholder on entering St. Peter’s can, indeed, fail to be impressed with the unusual size of the order; but he is not apt to realize how far it exceeds the largest orders of antiquity. The order of the Parthenon is about forty-five feet high, and that of the portico of the Pantheon is about sixty feet. These are exceptionally large among the orders of Greek and Roman antiquity[67] but the order of St. Peter’s is one hundred feet high.