Espérandieu’s Neo-Baroque Palais Longchamps at Marseilles has been mentioned (Plate [70A]). Also at Marseilles is the enormous Romanesco-Byzantine cathedral of 1852-93, which was designed by the younger Vaudoyer (Léon, 1803-72), a pupil of his father and also of Lebas. Espérandieu became inspecteur on the job in 1858 and carried on the work after Vaudoyer’s death. This is hardly superior to Ballu’s Paris churches, much less to Vaudremer’s or even Abadie’s, but it is more striking plastically in its rather redundant combination of domed west towers, crossing dome, and transeptal domes; it is also exceptionally colouristic for France. There is an almost High Victorian Gothic brashness in the treatment of the exterior walls with bands of alternately white and green stone. Here the aggressive assurance of the period speaks with an even louder voice than at the New Louvre and the Paris Opéra; this assurance is echoed, moreover, near by in Espérandieu’s own high-placed church of Notre-Dame-de-la-Garde of 1854-64, a scenic accent of the most brazen Second Empire vulgarity.
The Marseilles Exchange, however, dominating its own tree-lined square, is rather similar to the Chamber of Commerce in the Cannebière as it rises among ranges of houses that are more Provençal than Parisian in the modesty of their painted stucco fronts. Originally begun in 1842 by Penchaud, the Exchange was largely built in 1852-60 by his pupil Coste, but its style remains Louis Philippe rather than Second Empire.
The great elaboration and consequent expensiveness of Second Empire modes of design, as generally executed in France in fine freestone, restricted their full exploitation to the capital and the largest provincial cities. There is a sort of economic striation, from the immense sums the Emperor and, after him, the authorities of the Third Republic—even though relatively impoverished—were willing to put into representational public construction at the top, through the level represented by what Parisian investors spent on blocks of flats or rich provincial cities on their principal monuments, down finally to the niggardly building budgets of small towns and villages. This striation provides a sort of analogue to the breakdown of that earlier stylistic unity which had been so marked and happy a characteristic of French architecture for at least a century and a half. That this breakdown was still relative in France is apparent when one turns to other countries where eclectic taste in this period was bolder and where the variation in expenditure on different sorts of buildings was at least as great.
French architectural prestige revived internationally in the fifties to remain surprisingly high for another two generations.[[196]] However, the Second Empire mode was gradually succeeded internationally by another Parisian mode to which it is convenient to apply the name ‘Beaux-Arts’, from the École des Beaux-Arts out of whose instruction it stemmed. More and more foreigners went to Paris to study as the second half of the century wore on, until Paris became almost what Rome had been in the eighteenth century. In architectural education the influence of the École was especially strong in the New World; the training of English and most Continental architects was much less affected. The first two architectural schools to be founded in the United States, both by William Robert Ware (1832-1915)—himself, curiously enough, a practitioner of a fairly aggressive sort of Victorian Gothic (see Chapter [11])—that at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Boston opened in 1865 and the somewhat later school at Columbia University in New York, were both based on the methods of the École.[[197]] French winners of the Prix de Rome were increasingly imported to serve as teachers, and three generations later the last of them had not yet left the United States. The influence of the École in Latin America was even more powerful, and the dominance of its ideas has lasted in some countries down almost to the present.[[198]]
Both in the New World and the Old most cities grew like weeds in the third quarter of the century; the analogy is, indeed, a rather accurate one, for the growth was characteristically rank, uncontrolled, and destructive of earlier architectural amenities. Various European capitals, however, imitating Napoleon III’s re-organization of Paris, took advantage of the clearing away of their fortifications to lay out something equivalent to the grands boulevards. Florence during the late sixties, for example, when it was very briefly the capital of Italy, saw the laying out, according to the general plan of Giuseppe Poggi (1811-1901), of a range of avenues and squares that extend around the city to the east, north, and west on the site of the old walls. These districts, built up over the years 1865-77, display little or none of the new Second Empire afflatus. For the most part everywhere in Italy in this period the architecture is of generically Renaissance revival character. Only in the much later Piazza della Repubblica, carved out of the slummy heart of the city in the 80s and 90s, is there a heavy pomposity of scale that is curiously un-Florentine—the centre of nineteenth-century Athens might be Neo-Greek, but it was Munich, not Florence, that became characteristically Neo-Tuscan!
In the old Savoy capital of Turin, where the first half of the century had seen such notable urbanistic projects, a vigorous local tradition continued to control most of the new work.[[199]] However, at the farther side of the Piazza Carlo Felice the Porta Nuova Railway Station was built in 1866-8, as was mentioned in Chapter 3, by the engineer Mazzuchetti and the architect Ceppi in a rather original sort of Rundbogenstil. The vast iron and glass lunette at the front still provides a handsome termination to the long axis of the Via Roma, although the rear of the station has been rebuilt since the War. Along the Corso Vittorio Emmanuele II the earlier arcades of Promis were continued almost indefinitely; but the detailing of the façades grew continually richer in evident emulation of Second Empire Paris. This influence also affected the building up of the contiguous quarter of the city. In the fine new square at the end of the Via Garibaldi, however, balancing the earlier Piazza Vittorio Veneto at the end of the Via Po, the Piazza dello Statuto opened in 1864, the façades by Giuseppe Bollati (1819-69) are not at all Parisian, but recall rather the local Academic Baroque of Juvarra. Especially effective, and rare in Turin, are the warm and tawny colours of the painted stucco walls here.
With the uniting of Italy and the eventual taking over of Rome as the capital of the kingdom of Italy on the downfall of Napoleon III in 1870, a tremendous expansion[[200]] of the old Papal city began. The two principal new streets extending eastward, the Via Venti Settembre and the Via Nazionale, were laid out in 1871 and built up over the next fifteen years. Vast and tawny-coloured like the Piazza dello Statuto in Turin, but much less distinguished in design, is the Finance Ministry in the former street built by Raffaele Canevari (1825-1900) in 1870-7. Equally grand in scale and much more dignified are the quadrantal façades of the Esedra built by Gaetano Koch (1849-1910) in 1885 at the head of the Via Nazionale facing Michelangelo’s Santa Maria degli Angeli (Plate [76A]). With the fine later fountain by A. Guerrieri and Mario Rubelli in the centre this provides a most impressive piece of late-nineteenth-century academic urbanism. It still offers a not altogether unworthy preface to the Baths of Diocletian—of which it actually occupies the site of the largest exedra—and to the new railway station (Plate [183B]), both so near, which epitomize between them the ancient and the modern worlds in the architecture of Rome.
Koch’s Palazzo Boncampagni in the Via Vittorio Veneto, now the American Embassy, built in 1886-90, is also very dignified. It represents very well the occasional tendency in that decade towards restraint and sobriety in Renaissance design, a tendency that balances the contemporary stylistic development towards the Neo-Baroque. In the Via Nazionale the two most prominent edifices[[201]] by Italian architects, the Palazzo delle Belle Arti of Pio Piacentini (1846-1928) begun in 1882 and Koch’s Banca d’Italia of 1889-1904, are both quite academic in a respectable Renaissance way, and in the latter case impressively monumental as well. The same applies a fortiori to the two principal public edifices begun in Rome in the eighties—not the respectability, goodness knows, but the monumentality. The enormous Palazzo di Giustizia, in a new quarter across the Tiber, is an incredibly brash example of Neo-Baroque loaded down with heavy rustication, doubtless of Piranesian inspiration. This was designed by Giuseppe Calderini (1837-1916) in 1883-7 and built in 1888-1910 without the intended high mansards.
But the most overpowering new structure in Rome, dominating the whole city and blocking the view of both the ancient Forum and the Renaissance Campidoglio, is the Monument to Victor Emmanuel II, rising above the much enlarged Piazza Venezia at the head of the Corso. Largely the work of Count Giuseppe Sacconi (1854-1905),[[202]] who in 1884 won the third competition held for its design, this was begun in 1885 and continued after his death by Koch, Piacentini, and M. Manfredi (1859-1927), being finally brought to completion only in 1911 by the engineer R. Raffaelli. Hardly Second Empire nor yet quite ‘Beaux-Arts’, this most pretentious of all nineteenth-century monuments well illustrates the total decadence of inherited standards of Classicism in Europe towards the end of the century. It can be compared only with Poelaert’s Palace of Justice in Brussels, begun twenty years earlier, and entirely to the latter’s advantage even as regards mere gargantuan assurance.
In general, Italian production of the second half of the century is of relatively slight interest; moreover, it often seriously upsets the balance of earlier urban entities by its heavy scale. The great exception, and the one ranking Italian work of the period, is generally recognized to be the Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele II in Milan. In Genoa, behind the theatre, the Galleria Mazzini of 1871 also exceeds in length, in height, and in elaboration all the galleries and passages built in various European cities in the first half of the nineteenth century, yet it is not essentially very different from them in its scale or its detailing. The vast cruciform Galleria in Milan, however, extending from the Piazza del Duomo to the Piazza della Scala, with a great octagonal space at the crossing, is in concept and in its actual dimensions more a work of urbanism than of architecture (Plate [75B]). Built with English capital by an English firm, the City of Milan Improvement Company Ltd, and even, presumably, with some English professional advice—M. D. Wyatt was a member of the English board—this tremendous project more than rivals the greatest Victorian railway stations of London in the height, if not the span, of its metal-and-glass roof. But the actual designing architect was Italian, Giuseppe Mengoni (1829-77), and the Galleria de Cristoforis provided him with at least a modest local prototype. Erected in 1865-77 and now completely restored to its pristine richness and elegance, the Galleria scheme involved the enlargement of the Piazza del Duomo and the lining of two of its sides with related façades—executed only partly from Mengoni’s designs—as also the regularization of the Piazza della Scala. Alessi’s sixteenth-century Palazzo Marino, itself of almost Second Empire lushness, was enlarged to serve as the offices of the municipality and provided with a new façade in Alessi’s extreme Mannerist style across one side of the square facing La Scala. This was carried out in 1888-90 by Luca Beltrami (1854-1933), who had studied in Paris at the École des Beaux-Arts, to serve as municipal offices.