The distinctive character of military architecture in the Middle Ages must be sought in defensive fortification. In all other respects its constructive methods were identical with those employed in architectural works generally. The few ornamental features of military buildings, as, for instance, the interior vaults and the profiles of consoles and cornices, diverge but slightly from the accepted types of such features in the churches, monasteries, and domestic structures of the period.
The Latin, Roman, Gallo-Roman, Romanesque, and Gothic architects were versed in every department of the art they practised. The same architect was called upon to construct the church and the fortress, the abbey, and the ramparts which were often its necessary complement, the donjon, and castle, the town hall, the hospital, the rural barn, and the urban dwelling. He was responsible not only for the inception of every class and form of building, but for its successful elaboration; on him alone the responsibility of its execution rested; no scientific specialist checked his conclusions and verified his calculations as in our own time. The system by which the architect and the engineer have each their separate functions and responsibilities in the construction of the same building was unknown. The builder, or mason, as some would have him called, was an architect in the fullest sense; he himself traced the diagrams of his conceptions, and directed the execution of every detail, careful alike of stability and beauty.
163. ABBEY OF MONT ST. MICHEL. GATE-HOUSE
It is a curious and disheartening phenomenon that such a direct contravention of the principles of mediæval art as the modern system of divided responsibility implies, should obtain only among the French, the very people to whom Western Europe owes its initiation into those principles. In England, in Belgium, in Holland, Switzerland, and Germany the architect is also the engineer; the science and the art of his craft are inseparable. "This intimate union of qualities gives an individuality to certain productions of these nations which we might well lay to heart and make the subject of serious comparative study. We must needs admit to begin with that we ourselves have become disciples rather than pioneers in a great movement."[57]
[57] "L'Art à l'Exposition," L'Architecture, by Ed. Corroyer; Paris. L'Illustration, for 25th May 1889.
The one preoccupation of the modern engineer seems to be the satisfaction of imperious necessity. He is inclined to neglect all that mathematics cannot give him. And yet he has brought about a very sensible progress by his mathematical application of modern science. He has unquestionably excelled in industrial masterpieces perfectly adapted to the needs of the moment, if wanting in the qualities that make for immortality. We accept with qualified admiration his marvellous bridges and kindred works in metal—marvellous yet ephemeral; but we accept them merely as a temporary substitute for the more solid if less showy stone bridges of our early architects.
We would not have the servant of yesterday the master of to-morrow. We protest against the degradation of the architect from his high and noble estate to the rank of a mere decorator, however skilful. We would not witness the extinction of the ancient French traditions which inspired so many masterpieces, and to which we look as the source of many yet to come.
It appears, moreover, that the general acceptation of the word ingénieur (engineer) is a totally mistaken one. It is derived from the mediæval term engigneur, which was very differently applied.
The architect and the engineer of our own day are both constructors, but with a difference. The architect loves and cultivates his art; the engineer, with few exceptions, despises, or affects to despise, his.