Letters of an Architect, From France, Italy, and Greece. Volume 1 [of 2]

by Joseph Woods

Fig 2.

On my first visit to St. Peter’s, the appearance of this point puzzled me extremely; it appeared to be close against the church, while on the other hand, it seemed so near to the houses at the end of the street, that I could not imagine any considerable space between them: I did not doubt that I had taken the wrong road, and expected to find myself close to the church, missing the celebrated place and colonnades, in front of it; at last, however, it opened upon me, and with great magnificence. I should have been more impressed if I had not heard so much of it; yet still it is a scene not to be forgotten; and perhaps it is not the less strongly fixed in the memory, because the overwhelming deformity of the façade, half destroys its power of pleasing. Yet here, with the whole before me, I should have formed a very false estimate of its magnitude; the columns of the colonnade are nearly five feet in diameter: had I been asked at that moment how large they were, I should have replied, not merely from the first feeling, but on considering, and comparing what was within view from the one point, that they fell short of four. There are indeed generally figures about, which would enable one to judge more nearly; but they look like children. The half columns in front of the church are nine feet in diameter, I should not have guessed them at more than six, and in both instances I should have thought that I made an allowance for optical deception. What is the reason of this? I shall begin with the colonnade.

In the first place, the colonnade looks small, because it is so palpably a thing of mere ornament, not connected with, or forming any part of the building, or applied to any useful purpose; and the understanding is not easily reconciled to such great masses thus employed: I do not mean here to restrict the term useful to the narrow sense to which we often find it limited in England. Magnificence is use. When well displayed, it is calculated to produce respect and awe, or at least a frame of mind which readily admits those sentiments, and therefore it ought to be found in public edifices, and still more in, and about the temples of the Deity; I mean to give you, by and by, the reasons why this colonnade does not completely come within this rule. I admit that it does so in some degree, but not so as fully to satisfy the mind.

In the second place, the colonnade looks smaller than it is, because the church seems to be much nearer to the spectator than is the fact; thus the apparent space is diminished, and with the space, all the objects it contains.

The church looks nearer than it really is, first, from its enormous size; secondly, from all those causes hereafter to be explained, which make it appear smaller: the angle at the eye of the spectator being given, to appear smaller, it must also appear nearer: and thirdly, from the position of the galleries at b. These galleries recede as they approach the church, but they do not appear to do so, and the spectator imagines them of course perpendicular to the façade. He may know the contrary from reading, or from plans; but this consideration does not enter into those rapid judgments on which the impressive effect of a building principally depends. Let us then suppose the eye to be at e, Fig. 2. Although the line a c, from its inclined position, be really longer than a b, yet it will not appear longer than from a to d, and the space from d to b is entirely lost. This gallery ascends towards the church, and the leading line, which is the cornice, instead of sinking, as the perspective requires, from a to c, if as usual it were horizontal, appears to sink no more than if the line were carried only to f. The spectator does not precisely imagine this: the lines look confused, and out of drawing; but it aids in reducing the idea of length, and deprives him of the means of correcting the former impression. Thirdly, the colonnade looks small, because the church looks small, and the eye in some degree measures one by the other.

The church looks smaller, First, from all the causes which make the colonnade look smaller; they act, as I have just said, mutually upon each other; if there were only this reciprocal action, the effect would perhaps vanish, but each contains also independent sources of this deception.

Secondly, from all those circumstances already explained, which make it appear near.

Thirdly, from its own composition. The breaks of the entablature have very much the effect of reducing the columns and pilasters into ornaments, and one cannot imagine mere ornaments of such gigantic proportions. Another circumstance is, the division of the height of the order into three stories; it looks therefore more like a palace than a church. An enormous palace I grant, but still the imagination is conducted towards the usual appearances of human life. Now we know that 26 or 28 feet are sufficient for the loftiest story; that 10 or 12 feet form an immense mezzanine; and that 20 feet for the upper story is magnificent; and this gives a height of 60 feet, instead of 90. I merely put these dimensions down, to exemplify the principle on which the apparent size is reduced. We certainly do not make all these guesses on considering the building, nor perhaps any of them; the comparison is probably never put distinctly into words, but is rather felt than expressed; yet I have no doubt of its existence. The stories form a scale by which we measure the whole height; our judgment is therefore the result of proportion, but of proportion misapplied. Then the Attics form another story, and who wants garrets thirty feet high? Another cause of misapprehension arises from the Vatican Palace just by, which stands on higher ground, and absolutely appears to overtop the cathedral.

So much for its magnitude; in other respects the front of the building is hardly worth a single observation, and the galleries connecting it with the colonnade may be dismissed as readily, but the colonnade itself requires some further remarks. It is said to be the masterpiece of Bernini, and is certainly a very fine thing; but in estimating the merit of the architect, we must consider, not merely the effect produced, but the means employed to produce it: here are two hundred and fifty-six columns, 5 feet in diameter, and 40 feet high, with their complete entablature and appendages. A dipteral hypæthral temple with twelve columns in front and ornamented with columns also internally, the largest known to antiquity, only employs at the utmost one hundred and ninety-six. It is beautiful in design, graceful and even magnificent; yet magnificence is not its character. The design would be better on a smaller scale, with Corinthian columns hardly as high as the present, and an ornamented Corinthian entablature. The design has richness and magnificence, but it has not majesty or sublimity; and it is this want of majesty which makes one unwilling to admit its size, and communicates an appearance of uselessness. But you will ask me, If thus enriched and adorned, would it form a suitable approach to St. Peter’s? I answer No, nor does it now; and the proof of this is, that it looks better any way than towards the church. It is more beautiful considered alone, than united with the building it was meant to accompany. There are several considerable defects in the details; the curves are injudiciously broken in the middle, and the columns, bigger in the middle of the shaft than at the bottom, have some resemblance to barrels; but neither of these are of much consequence in the general view, though very disagreeable when considered separately. The fountains are beautiful, and they are mere fountains, without tritons or nymphs blowing up water, or any affectation of the sort; and this to my eyes is a very great merit, especially in Rome, where they have been so prodigal of these accessories. The obelisk would, I think, be better away; if there were two, instead of one, leaving the centre clear, I should like the effect better, but all the obelisks in Rome are single, and badly mounted.

You enter St. Peter’s by a vaulted gallery, whose length is equal to the breadth of the building, and whose height occupies what is apparently the first story; this arrangement occurs in several of the Roman basilican churches, and is adopted in order to obtain an upper gallery, from which the benediction is given. It forms frequently a very noble porch, and is certainly a highly magnificent feature in this instance, though defaced by many errors in the architecture. There is a smaller order employed in the openings of the front, subordinate to the principal one, which in the general view looks quite small; but after passing a short time in this corridor, the eye acquires a new scale, and these become noble columns; while even a third order, which adorns the doors of the church seems of considerable size. We enter.——After all the abuse which has been bestowed on the building for looking little, and all the absurd admiration it has obtained for this defect, the spectator must perceive at once that he is in the largest, far the largest room he ever saw, and if he have any sentiment in the art, he must feel the strong impression of a most noble and magnificent piece of architecture. Of one where the richness of the material is combined with justness of proportion, and where science, taste, and genius have united with riches and power to produce sublimity. For my own part, I was indeed on my guard against the deception, but it seemed to me to be impossible that any one should seriously believe the cupids or angels at the font, to be no bigger than little children, or suppose the doves mentioned by Eustace to be of the natural size.