A History of Architecture in all Countries, Volume 1, 3rd ed. / From the Earliest Times to the Present Day

by James Fergusson

But if we ask who effected these improvements, or who invented any part of the last-named wonderful fabrics, we must search deep indeed into the annals of the navy to find out. But no one has inquired and no one cares to know, for the simple reason that, like architecture in the Middle Ages, it is a true and living art, and the improvements were not effected by individuals, but by all classes—owners, sailors, shipwrights, and men of science, all working together through centuries, each lending the aid of his experience or of his reasoning.

If we place alongside of this series of ships a list of churches or cathedrals, commencing with Charlemagne and ending with Charles V., we find the same steady and assured progress obtained by the same identical means. In this instance, princes, priests, masons, and mathematicians, all worked steadily together for the whole period, striving to obtain a well-defined result.

In the ship the most suitable materials only are employed in every part, and neither below nor aloft is there one single timber nor spar nor one rope which is superfluous. Nor in the cathedral was any material ever used that was not believed to be the most suitable for its purpose; nor any form of construction adopted which did not seem the best to those who employed it; nor any detail added which did not appear necessary for the purpose it was designed to express? the result being, that we can look on and contemplate both with the same unmitigated satisfaction.

The one point where this comparison seems to halt is, that ship-building never became a purely fine art, which architecture really is. The difference is only one of aim, which it would be as easy to apply to the one art as it has been to the other. Had architecture never progressed beyond its one strictly legitimate object of house-building, it would never have been more near a fine art than merchant ship-building, and palaces would only have been magnified dwelling-places. Castles and men-of-war advanced both one stage further towards a fine art. Size and power were impressed on both, and in this respect they stand precisely equal to one another. Here ship-building halted, and has not progressed beyond, while architecture has been invested with a higher aim. In all ages men have sought to erect houses more dignified and stately than those designed for their personal use. They attempted the erection of dwelling-places for their Gods, or temples worthy of the worship of Supreme Beings; and it was only when this strictly useful art threw aside all shadow of utilitarianism, and launched boldly forth in search of the beautiful and the sublime, that it became a truly fine art, and took the elevated position which it now holds above all other useful arts. It would have been easy to supply the same motive to ship-building. If we could imagine any nation ever to construct ships of God, or to worship on the bosom of the ocean, ships might easily be made such objects of beauty that the cathedral could hardly compete with them.

It is not, however, only in architecture or in ship-building that this progress is essential, for the progress of every art and every science that is worthy of the name is owing to the same simple process of the aggregation of experiences; whether we look to metallurgy or mechanics, cotton-spinning or coining, their perfection is due to the same cause. So also the sciences—astronomy, chemistry, geology—are all cultivated by the same means. When the art or science is new, great men stand forth and make great strides; but when once it reaches maturity, and becomes the property of the nation, the individual is lost in the mass, and a thousand inferior brains follow out steadily and surely the path which the one great intellect has pointed out, but which no single mind, however great, could carry to its legitimate conclusion.

So far as any reason or experience yet known can be applied to this subject, it seems clear that no art or science ever has been or can be now advanced by going backwards, and copying earlier forms, or those applicable to other times or other circumstances; and that progress towards perfection can only be obtained by the united efforts of many steadily pursuing a well-defined object. Whenever this is done, success appears to be inevitable, or at all events every age is perfectly satisfied with its own productions. Where forward progress is the law, it is certain that the next age will surpass the present; but the living cannot conceive anything more perfect than what they are doing, or they would apply it. Everything in any true art is thoroughly up to the highest standard of its period, and instead of the dissatisfied uncertainty in which we are wandering in all matters concerning architecture, we should be exulting in our own productions, and proud in leaving to our posterity the progress we have made, feeling assured that we have paved the way for them to advance to a still higher standard of perfection.

As soon as the public are aware of the importance of this rule, and of its applicability to architecture, a new style must be the inevitable result; and if our civilisation is what we believe it to be, that style will not only be perfectly suited to all our wants and desires, but also more beautiful and more perfect than any that has ever existed before.

XVIII.—Prospects.

If we turn from these speculations to ask what prospect there is of the public appreciating correctly this view of the matter, or setting earnestly about carrying it out, the answer can hardly be deemed satisfactory; in fact, if it were left to the public, very little progress, except from an utilitarian point of view, would probably be made.

The study of the classical languages, to which so much importance is attached in our public schools, and in our own and most foreign universities, tended at one time in another way to draw attention from the formation of a true style of architecture by fixing it exclusively on Greek and Roman models. The Renaissance in the 15th century, as pointed out above, arose much more from admiration of classic literature than from any feeling for the remains of buildings which had been neglected for centuries, and were far surpassed by those which succeeded them. The same feelings perpetuated by early association are the great cause of the hold that classic art still has on the educated classes in Europe.