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

by James Fergusson

If I cannot now speak of Gothic architecture with the same enthusiasm as others, this certainly was not the case in the early part of my career as a student of art. Long after I turned my attention to the subject, I knew and believed in none but the mediæval styles, and was as much astonished as the most devoted admirer of Gothic architecture could be, when any one suggested that any other forms could be compared with it. If I did not learn to understand it then, it was not for want of earnest attention and study. I got so far into its spirit that I thought I saw then how better things could be done in Gothic art than had been done either in the Middle Ages or since; and I think so now. But if it is to be done, it must be by free thought, not by servile copying.

My faith in the exclusive pre-eminence of mediæval art was first shaken when I became familiar with the splendid remains of the Mogul and Pathan emperors of Agra and Delhi, and saw how many beauties of even the pointed style had been missed in Europe in the Middle Ages. My confidence was still further weakened when I saw what richness and variety the Hindu had elaborated not only without pointed arches, but indeed without any arches at all. And I was cured when, after a personal inspection of the ruins of Thebes and Athens, I perceived that at least equal beauty could be obtained by processes diametrically opposed to those employed by the mediæval architects.

After so extended a survey, it was easy to perceive that beauty in architecture did not reside in pointed or in round arches, in bracket capitals or horizontal architraves, but in thoughtful appropriateness of design and intellectual elegance of detail. I became convinced that no form is in itself better than any other, and that in all instances those are best which are most appropriate to the purposes to which they are applied.

So self-evident do these principles—which are the basis of the reasoning employed in this book—appear to me, that I feel convinced that there are very few indeed even of the most exclusive admirers of mediæval art who would not admit them, if they had gone through the same course of education as has fallen to my lot. My own conviction is, that the great difference which seems to exist between my views and those of the parties opposed to them arises almost entirely from this accident of education.

In addition to this, however, we must not overlook the fact that for three centuries all the architects in Europe concurred in believing that the whole of their art began and ended in copying classical forms and details. When a reaction came, it was not, unfortunately, in the direction of freedom; but towards a more servile imitation of another style, which—whether better or worse in itself—was not a style of our age, nor suited to our wants or feelings.

It is perhaps not to be wondered at, that after three centuries of perseverance in one particular groove, men should have ceased to have any faith in the possibility of reason or originality being employed in architectural design. As, however, I can adduce in favour of my views 3000 years of perfect success in all countries and under all circumstances, against 300 years of absolute failure in consequence of the copying system, though under circumstances the most favourable to success in other respects, there seems at least an à priori probability that I may be right and that the copyists may be mistaken.

I may be deceiving myself, but I cannot help fancying that I perceive signs of a reaction. Some men are becoming aware of the fact that “archæology is not architecture,” and would willingly see something done more reasonable than an attempt to reproduce the Middle Ages. The misfortune is, that their enlightenment is more apt to lead to despondency than to hope. “If,” they ask, “we cannot find what we are looking for in our own national style, where are we to look for it?” The obvious answer, that it is to be found in the exercise of common sense, where all the rest of the world have found it, seems to them beside the mark. Architecture with most people is a mystery—something different from all other arts; and they do not see that it is and must be subject to the same rules as they all are, and must be practised in the same manner, if it is to be successful.

Whether the nation will or will not soon awaken to the importance of this prosaic anti-climax, one thing at least seems certain and most hopeful. Men are not satisfied with what is doing; a restless, inquiring spirit is abroad, and if people can only be induced to think seriously about it, I feel convinced that they will be as much astonished at their present admiration of Gothic town-halls and Hyde Park Albert Memorials, as we are now at the Gothic fancies of Horace Walpole and the men of his day.

NOTE.

Although every possible care has been taken in selecting the best authorities for the statements in the text of the work, as well as the subjects for illustration, still no one acquainted with the state of the literature of architecture will need to be told that in many branches few materials exist for a correct description of the style, and that the drawings which are available are frequently so inexact, and with scales so carelessly applied, that it is impossible at times to avoid error. The plans throughout the book are on too small a scale to render any minute errors apparent, but being drawn to a uniform scale of 100 feet to 1 inch, or 1⁄1200 of the real size, they are quite sufficient as a means of comparison, even when not mathematically correct. They suffice to enable the reader to judge of the relative size of two buildings by a mere inspection of the plans, as correctly as he could by seeing the buildings themselves, without actually measuring them in all their details.