Elements of Criticism, Volume III.

by Lord Henry Home Kames

Perrault, in his comparison of the ancients and moderns[88], is the only author who runs to the opposite extreme; maintaining, that the different proportions assigned to each order of columns are arbitrary, and that the beauty of these proportions is entirely the effect of custom. This bewrays ignorance of human nature, which evidently delights in proportion, as well as in regularity, order, and propriety. But without any acquaintance with human nature, a single reflection might have convinced him of his error; that if these proportions had not originally been agreeable, they could not have been established by custom. If a thing be universal, it must be natural.

To illustrate the present point, I shall add a few examples of the agreeableness of different proportions. In a sumptuous edifice, the capital rooms ought to be large, for otherwise they will not be proportioned to the size of the building. On the other hand, a very large room in a small house, is disproportioned. But in things thus related, the mind requires not a precise or single proportion, rejecting all others; on the contrary, many different proportions are made equally welcome. It is only when a proportion becomes loose and distant, that the agreeableness abates, and at last vanisheth. In all buildings accordingly, we find rooms of different proportions equally agreeable, even where the proportion is not influenced by utility. With respect to the height of a room, the proportion it ought to bear to the length and breadth, is extremely arbitrary; and it cannot be otherwise, considering the uncertainty of the eye as to the height of a room, when it exceeds 17 or 18 feet. In columns again, even architects must confess, that the proportion of height and thickness varies betwixt 8 diameters and 10, and that every proportion betwixt these two extremes is agreeable. But this is not all. There must certainly be a further variation of proportion, depending on the size of the column. A row of columns 10 feet high, and a row twice that height, require different proportions. The intercolumniations must also differ in proportion according to the height of the row.

Proportion of parts is not only itself a beauty, but is inseparably connected with a beauty of the first magnitude. Parts that in conjunction appear proportional, never fail separately to produce similar emotions; which existing together, are extremely pleasant, as I have had occasion to show[89]. Thus a room of which the parts are all finely adjusted to each other, strikes us with the beauty of proportion. It produceth at the same time a pleasure far superior. The length, the breadth, the height, the windows, raise each of them separately an emotion. These emotions are similar; and though faint when felt separately, they produce in conjunction the emotion of concord or harmony, which is extremely pleasant. On the other hand, where the length of a room far exceeds the breadth, the mind comparing together parts so intimately connected, immediately perceives a disagreement or disproportion which disgusts. But this is not all. Viewing them separately, different emotions are produced, that of grandeur from the great length, and that of meanness or littleness from the small breadth, which in union are disagreeable by their discordance. Hence it is, that a long gallery, however convenient for exercise, is not an agreeable figure of a room. We consider it, like a stable, as destined for use, and expect not that in any other respect it should be agreeable.

Regularity and proportion are essential in buildings destined chiefly or solely to please the eye, because they are the means to produce intrinsic beauty. But a skilful artist will not confine his view to regularity and proportion. He will also study propriety, which is perceived when the form and ornaments of a structure are suited to the purpose for which it is appointed. The sense of propriety dictates the following rule, That every building ought to have an expression corresponding to its destination. A palace ought to be sumptuous and grand; a private dwelling, neat and modest; a playhouse, gay and splendid; and a monument, gloomy and melancholy. A Heathen temple has a double destination: it is considered chiefly as a house dedicated to some divinity; and in that respect it ought to be grand, elevated, and magnificent: it is considered also as a place of worship; and in that respect it ought to be somewhat dark or gloomy; because dimness produces that tone of mind which is suited to humility and devotion. A Christian church is not considered as a house for the Deity, but merely a place of worship: it ought therefore to be decent and plain, without much ornament: a situation ought to be chosen, humble and retired; because the congregation, during worship, ought to be humble and disengaged from the world. Columns, beside their chief destination of being supports, contribute to that peculiar expression which the destination of a building requires: columns of different proportions, serve to express loftiness, lightness, &c. as well as strength. Situation also may contribute to expression: conveniency regulates the situation of a private dwelling-house; but, as I have had occasion to observe[90], the situation of a palace ought to be lofty.

And this leads me to examine, whether the situation of a great house, where the artist is limited in his choice, ought in any measure to regulate its form. The connection betwixt a great house and the neighbouring grounds, though not extremely intimate, demands however some congruity. It would, for instance, displease us to find an elegant building thrown away upon a wild uncultivated country: congruity requires a polished field for such a building; and beside the pleasure of congruity, the spectator is sensible of the pleasure of concordance from the similarity of the emotions produced by the two objects. The old Gothic form of building seems well suited to the rough uncultivated regions where it was invented. The only mistake was, the transferring this form to the fine plains of France and Italy, better fitted for buildings in the Grecian taste. But by refining upon the Gothic form, every thing in the power of invention has been done, to reconcile it to its new situation. The profuse variety of wild and grand objects about Inverary, demanded a house in the Gothic form; and every one must approve the taste of the proprietor, in adjusting so finely, as he has done, the appearance of his house to that of the country where it is placed.

The external structure of a great house, leads naturally to its internal structure. A large and spacious room, receives us commonly upon our entrance. This seems to me a bad contrivance in several respects. In the first place, when immediately from the open air we step into such a room, its size in appearance is diminished by contrast: it looks little compared with the great canopy the sky. In the next place, when it recovers its grandeur, as it soon doth, it gives a diminutive appearance to the rest of the house: passing from it, every apartment looks little. This room therefore may be aptly compared to the swoln commencement of an epic poem.

Bella per Emathios plusquam civilia campos.

In the third place, by its situation it serves only for a waiting-room, and a passage to the principal apartments. And yet undoubtedly, the room of the greatest size ought to be reserved for company. A great room, which enlarges the mind and gives a certain elevation to the spirits, is destined by nature for conversation. Rejecting therefore this form, I take a hint from the climax in writing for another form that appears more suitable. My plan is, first a handsome portico, proportioned to the size and fashion of the front: this portico leads into a waiting-room of a larger size; and this again to the great room, all by a progression from small to great. If the house be very large, there may be space for the following suit of rooms; first, a portico; second, a passage within the house bounded by rows of columns on each side connected by arcades; third, an octagon room, or of any other figure, about the centre of the building; and, lastly, the great room.

Of all the emotions that can be raised by architecture, grandeur is that which has the greatest influence on the mind. It ought therefore to be the chief study of the artist, to raise this emotion in great buildings. But it seems unhappy for architecture, that it is necessarily governed by certain principles opposite to grandeur: the direct effect of regularity and proportion, is to make a building appear less than it is in reality. Any invention to reconcile these with grandeur, would be a capital improvement in architecture.

Next of ornaments, which contribute greatly to give buildings a peculiar expression. It has been a doubt with me, whether a building can regularly admit any ornament but what is useful, or at least appears to be useful. But considering the double aim of architecture, a fine as well as an useful art, there is no good reason why ornaments may not be added to please the eye without any relation to use. This liberty is allowed in poetry, painting, and gardening, and why not in architecture considered as a fine art? A private dwelling-house, it is true, and other edifices where use is the chief aim, admit not regularly any ornament but what has the appearance, at least, of use: but temples, triumphal arches, and other buildings intended chiefly or solely for show, may be highly ornamented.