Lectures on the rise and development of medieval architecture; vol. 1

by Sir George Gilbert Scott

Then again, with Roman architecture, and the course of its decadence: how replete is its history with anticipatory suggestions as to the rise of the new architecture which after a long period of darkness sprang up from its decayed roots! And equally instructive is the study of Byzantine architecture—that “light in a dark place” which was destined to shed its rays so beneficently on the rising, but yet embryo, arts of the Middle Ages.

A most interesting addition has recently been made to our knowledge of this style by the researches of the Count de Vogüé among the ruined cities recently discovered in the mountains of Central Syria.

Fig. 192.—El Barah, Central Syria.

These cities seem to have been in prosperity up to the moment of the Mahometan conquest of Syria, but to have been suddenly deserted, as in one day, on the approach of the Arabian armies, and since then to have remained untouched but by the elements and earthquakes; so that they hand down to us the earlier Byzantine architecture (as practised in Syria) in the most perfect and instructive manner. In these wonderful cities we have not only the churches, but nearly every description of Byzantine building, either nearly perfect, or—when thrown down by earthquakes, as is often the case—with the parts still lying as they fell, so that the entire design can be perfectly understood.

These remains supply the connecting link between the Byzantine and the old Classic styles; but it is the later buildings, such as St. Mark’s at Venice, which give the link at the opposite end of the chain, connecting it with the churches of Aquitaine, and through them with our own Romanesque and transitional works; while the various productions of Byzantine art of the same period, with which Western Europe was so liberally supplied, became the germs from which much of the ornamentation of our own earlier works originated. All this it behoves the Gothic architect to study; nor should he neglect the parallel supplies of suggestions from the Mahometan styles—themselves the offspring of the Byzantine. But still more incumbent is it on him to follow out that direct catena by which, in Western Europe, the Roman style passed through the Early Basilican phase in Southern Italy, the Lombardic in Northern Italy,[82] and the various derivative forms of Romanesque in Southern France and Rhineland, as well as in the less familiar European countries.

In all these varied courses of gradual change it is yet more interesting, and far more profitable, to trace out—as distinct from all questions of architectural style—the ritual and practical changes through which the basilica, so early adopted as the great type of the Christian Church, became the parent of the typical form made use of to our own day and for our own churches, and those by which the later-introduced Greek cross was perfected into the form of the Byzantine churches, and the less usual circular type into that of a series of exceptional churches both in the East and West. The first of these catenæ, in particular, is most interesting to ourselves, as showing that our own form of church is our direct inheritance from the earliest Christian temple: and, though we may do well to consider how far the series of changes through which it has reached us may be advantageously followed up by any additional modification to meet the true demands of our own day, yet God forbid that we should so far forget the claims of our long descent as to let go this precious inheritance of our fathers![83]

There is, however, another more direct kind of preparation, on which I desire most urgently to insist. I mean your personal training as artists. True it is that your sketching tours will be a great means of promoting this; but this will not do alone: you must constantly strive to train your eye and your hand to artistic perception and skill. You should take lessons from first-rate teachers both in drawing and in colouring; you should take some means of training yourselves in drawing the human figure and in animal drawing, and even in modelling if opportunity permits. These means ought unquestionably to be afforded to the architectural students by this Academy as a special and most important and essential part of their training. That such is not the case at present is, I believe, the result of the cramped and insufficient housing which has been allowed us, and I do trust that this hindrance will soon be removed.[84]

You should further practise yourselves in drawing and modelling from natural leaves and flowers, and, side by side with this, in drawing from fine examples of sculptured foliage, whether natural or conventional, for which last-named object you have great facilities offered by the Architectural Museum; and all this, I would suggest, can be going on during the winter months when you cannot sketch from actual buildings. Without this training you will find yourselves at a great disadvantage in studying for original works; your attempts at drawing sculpture, whether figures or foliage, will disgust and dishearten you, and even your sketches from purely architectural objects will be both dispiriting to yourselves at the time, will fail to express the true feeling of the works themselves, and will convey no agreeable impressions when you revert to them in after years.