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THE ENCYCLOPÆDIA BRITANNICA

A DICTIONARY OF ARTS, SCIENCES, LITERATURE AND GENERAL INFORMATION

ELEVENTH EDITION

 

VOLUME II SLICE IV

Aram, Eugene to Arcueil


 

Articles in This Slice

Articles in This Section

ARAM, EUGENE ARCH, JOSEPH
ARAMAIC LANGUAGES ARCH
ARANDA, PEDRO PABLO ABARCA DE BOLEA ARCHAEOLOGY
ARAN ISLANDS ARCHAEOPTERYX
ARANJUEZ ARCHAISM
ARANY, JÁNOS ARCHANGEL (government of Russia)
ARAPAHO ARCHANGEL (town of Russia)
ARARAT (mountains) ARCHBALD
ARARAT (town of Australia) ARCHBISHOP
ARAROBA POWDER ARCHCHANCELLOR
ARAS ARCHDEACON
ARASON, JON ARCHDUKE
ARATOR ARCHEAN SYSTEM
ARATUS (Greek statesman) ARCHELAUS OF CAPPADOCIA
ARATUS (Greek didactic poet) ARCHELAUS (king of Judaea)
ARAUCANIA ARCHELAUS (king of Macedonia)
ARAUCANIANS ARCHELAUS OF MILETUS
ARAUCARIA ARCHENHOLZ, JOHANN WILHELM VON
ARAUCO ARCHER, WILLIAM
ARAVALLI HILLS ARCHERMUS
ARAWAK ARCHERY
ARBACES ARCHES, COURT OF
ARBE ARCHESTRATUS
ARBELA ARCHIAC, ÉTIENNE JULES ADOLPHE DESMIER DE SAINT SIMON
ARBER, EDWARD ARCHIAS, AULUS LICINIUS
ARBITRAGE ARCHIDAMUS
ARBITRATION ARCHIL
ARBITRATION, INTERNATIONAL ARCHILOCHUS
ARBITRATION AND CONCILIATION ARCHIMANDRITE
ARBOGAST ARCHIMEDES
ARBOIS ARCHIMEDES, SCREW OF
ARBOIS DE JUBAINVILLE, MARIE HENRI D’ ARCHIPELAGO
ARBOR DAY ARCHIPPUS
ARBORETUM ARCHITECTURE
ARBORICULTURE ARCHITRAVE
ARBOR VITAE ARCHIVE
ARBOS, FERNANDEZ ARCHIVOLT
ARBOUR ARCHIVOLT
ARBROATH ARCHPRIEST
ARBUTHNOT, ALEXANDER ARCHYTAS
ARBUTHNOT, JOHN ARCIS-SUR-AUBE
ARCACHON ARCOLA
ARCADE ARCOS DE LA FRONTERA
ARCADELT ARCOSOLIUM
ARCADIA ARCOT
ARCADIUS (Roman emperor) ARCTIC
ARCADIUS (Greek grammarian) ARCTINUS
ARCELLA ARCTURUS
ARCESILAUS ARCUEIL

317

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ARAM, EUGENE (1704-1759), English scholar, but more famous as the murderer celebrated by Hood in his ballad, the Dream of Eugene Aram, and by Bulwer Lytton in his romance of Eugene Aram, was born of humble parents at Ramsgill, Yorkshire, in 1704. He received little education at school, but manifested an intense desire for learning. While still young, he married and settled as a schoolmaster at Netherdale, and during the years he spent there, he taught himself both Latin and Greek. In 1734 he removed to Knaresborough, where he remained as schoolmaster till 1745. In that year a man named Daniel Clark, an intimate friend of Aram, after obtaining a considerable quantity of goods from some of the tradesmen in the town, suddenly disappeared. Suspicions of being concerned in this swindling transaction fell upon Aram. His garden was searched, and some of the goods found there. As, however, there was not evidence sufficient to convict him of any crime, he was discharged, and soon after set out for London, leaving his wife behind. For several years he travelled through parts of England, acting as usher in a number of schools, and settled finally at Lynn, in Norfolk. During his travels he had amassed considerable materials for a work he had projected on etymology, to be entitled a Comparative Lexicon of the English, Latin, Greek, Hebrew and Celtic Languages. He was undoubtedly an original philologist, who realized, what was then not yet admitted by scholars, the affinity of the Celtic language to the other languages of Europe, and could dispute the then accepted belief that Latin was derived from Greek. Aram’s writings show that he had grasped the right idea on the subject of the Indo-European character of the Celtic language, which was not established till J.C. Prichard published his book, Eastern Origin of the Celtic Nations, in 1831. But he was not destined to live in history as the pioneer of a new philology. In February 1758 a skeleton was dug up at Knaresborough, and some suspicion arose that it might be Clark’s. Aram’s wife had more than once hinted that her husband and a man named Houseman knew the secret of Clark’s disappearance. Houseman was at once arrested and confronted with the bones that had been found. He affirmed his innocence, and, taking up one of the bones, said, “This is no more Dan Clark’s bone than it is mine.” His manner in saying this roused suspicion that he knew more of Clark’s disappearance than he was willing to admit. He was again examined, and confessed that he had been present at the murder of Clark by Aram and another man, Terry, of whom nothing further is heard. He also gave information as to the place where the body had been buried in St Robert’s Cave, a well-known spot near Knaresborough. A skeleton was dug up here, and Aram was immediately arrested, and sent to York for trial. Houseman was admitted as evidence against him. Aram conducted his own defence, and did not attempt to overthrow Houseman’s evidence, although there were some discrepancies in that; but made a skilful attack on the fallibility of circumstantial evidence in general, and particularly of evidence drawn from the discovery of bones. He brought forward several instances where bones had been found in caves, and tried to show that the bones found in St Robert’s Cave were probably those of some hermit who had taken up his abode there. He was found guilty, and condemned to be executed on the 6th of August 1759, three days after his trial. While in his cell he confessed his guilt, and threw some light on the motives for his crime, by asserting that he had discovered a criminal intimacy between Clark and his own wife. On the night before his execution he made an unsuccessful attempt at suicide by opening the veins in his arm.

ARAM, EUGENE (1704-1759), an English scholar, is better known as the murderer featured in Hood’s ballad, the Dream of Eugene Aram, and Bulwer Lytton’s novel Eugene Aram. He was born to humble parents in Ramsgill, Yorkshire, in 1704. He received minimal formal education but had a strong desire for knowledge. While still young, he married and worked as a schoolmaster in Netherdale, where he taught himself Latin and Greek. In 1734, he moved to Knaresborough, where he continued as a schoolmaster until 1745. That year, a man named Daniel Clark, a close friend of Aram, suddenly vanished after obtaining a significant amount of goods from local merchants. Suspicion fell on Aram regarding this fraudulent activity. His garden was searched, and some stolen goods were discovered there. However, there wasn’t enough evidence to charge him with a crime, so he was released and soon left for London, leaving his wife behind. For several years, he traveled across England, working as an assistant in various schools, eventually settling in Lynn, Norfolk. During his travels, he gathered substantial material for a proposed work on etymology titled Comparative Lexicon of the English, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Celtic Languages. He was undoubtedly an innovative philologist who recognized, contrary to contemporary scholars, the connection between the Celtic language and other European languages, and he challenged the widely held belief that Latin derived from Greek. Aram’s writings indicate that he understood the Indo-European nature of the Celtic language, a concept that wouldn’t be recognized until J.C. Prichard published his book, Eastern Origin of the Celtic Nations, in 1831. However, he was not meant to be remembered as the trailblazer of a new philology. In February 1758, a skeleton was unearthed in Knaresborough, raising suspicions that it could belong to Clark. Aram’s wife had previously suggested that her husband and a man named Houseman were aware of the truth behind Clark’s disappearance. Houseman was quickly arrested and confronted with the discovered bones. He maintained his innocence and, picking up a bone, declared, “This is no more Dan Clark’s bone than it is mine.” His demeanor while saying this raised doubts about what he truly knew about Clark’s disappearance. He was re-examined and confessed that he had witnessed Clark’s murder by Aram and another man named Terry, of whom nothing further is known. He also revealed the location where the body was buried in St Robert’s Cave, a well-known area near Knaresborough. A skeleton was found there, leading to Aram's immediate arrest and subsequent transport to York for trial. Houseman was used as evidence against him. Aram represented himself in court and didn’t try to refute Houseman’s testimony, despite some inconsistencies; instead, he cleverly argued the unreliability of circumstantial evidence in general, and especially evidence based on discovered bones. He presented several cases where bones had been found in caves, attempting to prove that the bones from St Robert’s Cave likely belonged to some hermit who had lived there. He was found guilty and sentenced to death on August 6, 1759, just three days after his trial. While in his cell, he confessed to his crime and shed some light on his motives, claiming he had discovered an illicit affair between Clark and his own wife. The night before his execution, he attempted suicide by cutting his arm.


ARAMAIC LANGUAGES, a class of languages so called from Aram, a geographical term, which in old Semitic usage designates nearly the same districts as the Greek word Syria. Aram, however, does not include Palestine, while it comprehends Mesopotamia (Heb. Aram of two rivers), a region which the Greeks frequently distinguish from Syria proper. Thus the Aramaic languages may be geographically defined as the Semitic dialects originally current in Mesopotamia and the regions extending south-west from the Euphrates to Palestine. (See Semitic Languages; Syriac; Targum.)

ARAMAIC LANGUAGES, a group of languages named after Aram, a geographical term that in ancient Semitic referred to areas nearly the same as the Greek term Syria. However, Aram doesn't include Palestine; it covers Mesopotamia (Heb. Aram of two rivers), a region that the Greeks often set apart from true Syria. Therefore, the Aramaic languages can be geographically described as the Semitic dialects that were originally spoken in Mesopotamia and the areas stretching southwest from the Euphrates to Palestine. (See Semitic Languages; Syriac; Targum.)


ARANDA, PEDRO PABLO ABARCA DE BOLEA, Count of (1719-1798), Spanish minister and general, was born at the castle of Siétamo, a lordship of his family near Huesca in Aragon, on the 1st of August 1719. The house of Abarca was very ancient, a fact of which Don Pedro, who never forgot that he was a “rico hombre” (noble) of Aragon, was deeply conscious. He was educated partly at Bologna and partly at the military school of Parma. In 1740 he entered the army as captain in the regiment “Castilla,” of which his father was proprietary colonel. On the death of his father he became colonel, and served in the Italian campaigns of the War of the Austrian Succession. In 1749 he married Doña Ana, daughter of the 9th duke of Hijar, by whom he had one son, who died young, and a daughter. During the following years he travelled and visited the camp of Frederick the Great, whose system of drill he admired and afterwards introduced into the Spanish army. After a short period of diplomatic service in Portugal, where his exacting temper made it impossible for him to agree with the premier, Pombal, he returned to Madrid, was made a knight of the Golden Fleece, and director-general of artillery—a post which he threw up, together with his rank of lieutenant-general, because he was not allowed to punish certain fraudulent contractors. The king, Ferdinand VI., exiled him to his estates, but Charles III. on his accession took him into favour. He was again employed in diplomacy, and then appointed to command an army against Portugal in 1763. In 1764 he was made governor of Valencia. When in 1766 the king was driven from his capital in a riot, he summoned Aranda to Madrid and made him president of the council, and captain-general of New Castile. Until 1773 Aranda was the most important minister in Spain. He restored order and aided the king most materially in his work of administrative reform. But his great achievements, which gave him a high reputation throughout Europe with the philosophical and anti-clerical parties, were his expulsion of the Jesuits, whom the king considered responsible for the riot of 1766, and the active part he took in the suppression of the order. Aranda had come much under foreign influence by his education and his travels, and had acquired the reputation of being a confirmed sceptic. By Voltaire and the Encyclopaedists he was erected into a hero from whom great things were expected. His ability, his 318 remarkable capacity for work, and his popularity made him indispensable to the king. But he was a trying servant, for his temper was captious and his tongue sarcastic, while his aristocratic arrogance led him to display an offensive contempt for the golillas (the stiff collars), as he called the lawyers and public servants whom the king preferred to choose as ministers, and he permitted himself an amazing freedom of language with his sovereign. At last Charles III. sent him as ambassador to Paris in a disguised disgrace. Aranda held this position till 1787, but in Paris he was chiefly known for his oddities of manner and for perpetual wrangling with the French on small points of etiquette. He resigned his post for private reasons. In the reign of Charles IV., with whom he had been on familiar terms during the life of the old king, he was for a very short time prime minister in 1792. In reality he was merely used as a screen by the queen Maria Louisa and her favourite Godoy. His open sympathy with the French Revolution brought him into collision with the violent reaction produced in Spain by the excesses of the Jacobins, while his temper, which had become perfectly uncontrollable with age, made him insufferable to the king. After his removal from office he was imprisoned for a short time at Granada, and was threatened with a trial by the Inquisition. The proceedings did not go beyond the preliminary stage, and Aranda died at Epila on the 9th of January 1798.

ARANDA, PEDRO PABLO ABARCA DE BOLEA, Count of (1719-1798), Spanish minister and general, was born at the castle of Siétamo, a family estate near Huesca in Aragon, on the 1st of August 1719. The Abarca family was very old and prestigious, a fact that Don Pedro, who always remembered he was a “rico hombre” (noble) of Aragon, was keenly aware of. He was educated partly in Bologna and partly in the military school of Parma. In 1740, he joined the army as a captain in the “Castilla” regiment, where his father was the colonel. Following his father’s death, he became a colonel and fought in the Italian campaigns of the War of the Austrian Succession. In 1749, he married Doña Ana, daughter of the 9th duke of Hijar, and they had one son who died young and a daughter. In the following years, he traveled and visited Frederick the Great's camp, whose training methods he admired and later introduced into the Spanish army. After a brief diplomatic stint in Portugal, where his demanding nature made it hard for him to get along with Prime Minister Pombal, he returned to Madrid, where he was made a knight of the Golden Fleece and appointed director-general of artillery—a position he resigned, along with his rank of lieutenant-general, because he was not permitted to punish some fraudulent contractors. King Ferdinand VI. exiled him to his estates, but Charles III. welcomed him back when he came to power. He was again involved in diplomacy and then given command of an army against Portugal in 1763. In 1764, he became governor of Valencia. When riots forced the king from his capital in 1766, he summoned Aranda to Madrid and appointed him president of the council and captain-general of New Castile. Until 1773, Aranda was the most significant minister in Spain. He restored order and greatly aided the king with administrative reforms. However, his greatest achievements, which earned him a high reputation across Europe among the philosophical and anti-clerical groups, were his expulsion of the Jesuits—whom the king blamed for the 1766 riot—and the active role he took in suppressing the order. Aranda had been heavily influenced by his education and travels abroad, gaining a reputation as a steadfast skeptic. Voltaire and the Encyclopedists hailed him as a hero from whom much was expected. His skill, incredible work ethic, and popularity made him indispensable to the king. However, he was a challenging subordinate, with a contentious disposition and a sarcastic tongue, while his noble arrogance led him to show disdain for the golillas (the stiff collars), as he called the lawyers and public servants whom the king preferred as ministers, and he often spoke very freely in front of his sovereign. Eventually, Charles III. sent him to Paris as an ambassador in a veiled punishment. Aranda held this position until 1787, but in Paris, he was mostly known for his eccentric behavior and constant disputes with the French over minor etiquette issues. He resigned for personal reasons. In the reign of Charles IV., with whom he had been on friendly terms during the previous king's rule, he briefly served as prime minister in 1792. In reality, he was just a figurehead for Queen Maria Louisa and her favorite Godoy. His open support for the French Revolution put him at odds with the severe backlash in Spain against Jacobin excesses, and his temperament, which had become uncontrollable with age, made him intolerable to the king. After being removed from office, he was briefly imprisoned in Granada and faced the threat of a trial by the Inquisition. The proceedings never moved past the preliminary stage, and Aranda died in Epila on the 9th of January 1798.

See Don Jacobo de la Pezuela in the Revista de España, vol. xxv. (1872); Don Antonio Ma. Fabié, in the Diccionario general de politica y administration of Don E. Suarez Inclan (Madrid, 1868), vol. i.; M. Morel Fatio, Études sur l’Espagne (2nd series, Paris, 1890).

See Don Jacobo de la Pezuela in the Revista de España, vol. xxv. (1872); Don Antonio Ma. Fabié, in the Diccionario general de politica y administration of Don E. Suarez Inclan (Madrid, 1868), vol. i.; M. Morel Fatio, Études sur l’Espagne (2nd series, Paris, 1890).

(D. H.)

ARAN ISLANDS, or South Aran, three islands lying across Galway Bay, on the west coast of Ireland, in a south-easterly direction, forming a kind of natural breakwater. They belong to the county Galway, and their population in 1901 was 2863. They are called respectively—beginning with the northernmost—Inishmore (or Aranmore), the Great Island; Inishmaan, the Middle Island; and Inisheer, the Eastern Island. The first has an elevation of 354 ft., the second of 259, and the third of 202. Their formation is carboniferous limestone. These islands are remarkable for a number of architectural remains of a very early date. In Inishmore there stand, on a cliff 220 ft. high, large remains of a circular cyclopean tower, called Dun-Aengus, ascribed to the Fir-bolg or Belgae; or, individually, to the first of three brothers, Aengus, Conchobar and Nil, who reached Aran Islands from Scotland in the 1st century A.D. There are seven other similar structures in the group. Inishmore also bears the name of Aran-na-naomh, Aran-of-the-Saints, from the number of religious recluses who took up their abode in it, and gave a celebrity to the holy wells, altars and shrines, to which many are still attracted. No less, indeed, than twenty buildings of ecclesiastical or monastic character have been enumerated in the three islands. On Inishmore are remains of the abbey of Killenda. Christianity was introduced in the 5th century, and Aran soon became one of the most famous island-resorts of religious teachers and ascetics. The extraordinary fame of the foundations here has been inferred from the inscription “VII. Romani” on a stone in the church Teampull Brecain on Inishmore, attributed to disciples from Rome. The total area of the islands is 11,579 acres. The Congested Districts Board made many efforts to improve the condition of the inhabitants, especially by introducing better methods of fishing. A curing station is established at Killeany, the harbour of Inishmore.

ARAN ISLANDS, or South Aran, are three islands located across Galway Bay on the west coast of Ireland, stretching southeast and acting as a natural breakwater. They belong to County Galway, with a population of 2,863 in 1901. The islands are called—starting with the northernmost—Inishmore (or Aranmore), the Great Island; Inishmaan, the Middle Island; and Inisheer, the Eastern Island. The first has an elevation of 354 ft., the second 259 ft., and the third 202 ft. They are made of carboniferous limestone and are known for several architectural remains that date back to very early times. On Inishmore, there are large remains of a circular cyclopean tower called Dun-Aengus, which is attributed to the Fir-bolg or Belgae; or to the first of three brothers, Aengus, Conchobar, and Nil, who arrived on the Aran Islands from Scotland in the 1st century CE There are seven other similar structures in the group. Inishmore is also known as Aran-na-naomh, Aran-of-the-Saints, due to the numerous religious recluses who lived there, enhancing the fame of the holy wells, altars, and shrines that continue to attract visitors. In total, at least twenty ecclesiastical or monastic buildings have been identified across the three islands. On Inishmore, you can find the remains of the abbey of Killenda. Christianity arrived in the 5th century, and Aran quickly became a renowned destination for religious teachers and ascetics. The significant fame of the foundations here is suggested by the inscription “VII. Romani” found on a stone in the church Teampull Brecain on Inishmore, believed to be from disciples who came from Rome. The islands cover a total area of 11,579 acres. The Congested Districts Board made various efforts to enhance the living conditions of the residents, particularly by introducing improved fishing methods. A curing station has been established at Killeany, the harbor of Inishmore.


ARANJUEZ (perhaps the ancient Ara Jovis), a town of central Spain, in the province of Madrid, 30 m. S. of Madrid, on the left bank of the river Tagus, at the junction of the main southern railways to Madrid, and at the western terminus of the Aranjuez-Cuenca railway. Pop. (1900) 12,670. Aranjuez occupies part of a wide valley, about 1500 ft. above the sea. Its formal, straight streets, crossing one another regularly at right angles, and its uniform, two-storeyed houses were built in imitation of the Dutch style, under the direction of Jerónimo, marquis de Grimaldi (1716-1788), ambassador of Charles III. at the Hague. A rapid in the Tagus, artificially converted into a weir, renders irrigation easy, and has thus created an oasis in the midst of the barren plateau of New Castile. On every side the town is surrounded by royal parks and woods of sycamores, plane-trees and elms, often of extraordinary size. The prevalence of the dark English elms, first introduced into the country and planted here by order of Philip II. (1527-1598), gives to the Aranjuez district a character wholly distinct from that of other Spanish landscapes; and at an early period, despite the unhealthy climate, and especially the oppressive summer heat, which often approaches 100° F., Aranjuez became a favourite residence of the Spanish court. In the 14th and 15th centuries, the master of the Order of Santiago had a country seat here, which passed, along with the mastership, into the possession of the crown of Spain in 1522. Its successive occupants, from the emperor Charles V. (1500-1558) down to Ferdinand VII. (1784-1833), modified it according to their respective tastes. The larger palace was built by Pedro Caro for Philip V. (1683-1746), in the French style of the period. It overlooks the Jardin de la Isla, a beautiful garden laid out for Philip II. on an island in the Tagus, which forms the scene of Schiller’s famous drama Don Carlos. The Casa del Labrador, or Labourer’s Cottage, as it is called, is a smaller palace built by Charles IV. in 1803, and full of elaborate ornamentation. The chief local industry is farming, and an annual fair is held in September for the sale of live stock. Great attention is given to the rearing of horses and mules, and the royal stud used to be remarkable for the beauty of its cream-coloured breed. The treaty of 1772 between France and Spain was concluded at Aranjuez, which afterwards suffered severely from the French during the Peninsular War. Here, also, in 1808, the insurrection broke out which ended in the abdication of Charles IV.

ARANJUEZ (possibly the ancient Ara Jovis), is a town in central Spain, located 30 miles south of Madrid on the left bank of the Tagus River. It's at the intersection of major southern railways leading to Madrid and the western end of the Aranjuez-Cuenca railway. Population (1900) was 12,670. Aranjuez sits in a broad valley, around 1500 feet above sea level. Its formal, straight streets intersect at right angles, and its uniform, two-story houses were built in a Dutch style, under the guidance of Jerónimo, Marquis de Grimaldi (1716-1788), who was the ambassador of Charles III in The Hague. A rapid in the Tagus, transformed into a weir, makes irrigation simple and has created an oasis in the barren plateau of New Castile. The town is surrounded by royal parks and woods filled with sycamores, plane trees, and often exceptionally large elms. The prevalence of dark English elms, which were first introduced into the country and planted here by order of Philip II (1527-1598), gives the Aranjuez area a distinctive character compared to other Spanish landscapes. Early on, despite the unhealthy climate, especially the oppressive summer heat that often reaches 100°F, Aranjuez became a favored residence for the Spanish court. In the 14th and 15th centuries, the Master of the Order of Santiago had a country house here, which, along with the title of master, became part of the Spanish crown in 1522. Its various occupants, from Emperor Charles V (1500-1558) to Ferdinand VII (1784-1833), modified the estate according to their tastes. The larger palace was constructed by Pedro Caro for Philip V (1683-1746) in the French style of the era. It overlooks the Jardin de la Isla, a lovely garden designed for Philip II on an island in the Tagus, which is the setting for Schiller’s famous play Don Carlos. The Casa del Labrador, or Labourer’s Cottage, is a smaller palace created by Charles IV in 1803, filled with intricate ornamentation. Farming is the main local industry, and an annual fair is held in September for livestock sales. Significant emphasis is placed on breeding horses and mules, and the royal stud was noted for its beautiful cream-colored horses. The treaty of 1772 between France and Spain was signed in Aranjuez, which later experienced severe hardships during the French occupation in the Peninsular War. Here, in 1808, the uprising occurred that led to the abdication of Charles IV.

For a fuller description of Aranjuez see D.S. Viñas y Rey, Aranjuez (Madrid, 1890); F. Nard, Guia de Aranjuez, su historia y descripcion (Madrid, 1851), (illustrated); Alvarez de Quindos, Descripcion historica del real basque y casa de Aranjuez (Madrid, 1804).

For a more detailed description of Aranjuez, check out D.S. Viñas y Rey, Aranjuez (Madrid, 1890); F. Nard, Guia de Aranjuez, su historia y descripcion (Madrid, 1851), (illustrated); and Alvarez de Quindos, Descripcion historica del real basque y casa de Aranjuez (Madrid, 1804).


ARANY, JÁNOS (1817-1882), the greatest poet of Hungary after Petöfi, was born at Nagy-Szalontá on the 2nd of March 1817, the son of György Arany and Sara Mégyeri; his people were small Calvinist yeomen of noble origin, whose property consisted of a rush-thatched cottage and a tiny plot of land. An only son, late born, seeing no companions of his own age, hearing nothing but the voices of his parents and the hymns and prayers in the little Calvinist chapel, Arany grew up a grave and gentle, but by no means an ignorant child. His precocity was remarkable. At six years of age he went to school at Szalontá, where he read everything he could lay his hands upon in Hungarian and Latin. From 1832 to 1836 Arany was a preceptor at Kis-Ujszállás and Debreczen, still a voracious reader with a wider field before him, for he had by this time taught himself French and German. Tiring of the monotony of a scholastic life, he joined a troupe of travelling actors. The hardships he suffered were as nothing compared with the pangs of conscience which plagued him when he thought of the despair of his father, who had meant to make a pastor of this prodigal son, to whom both church and college now seemed for ever closed. At last he borrowed sixpence from the stage-manager and returned home, carrying all his property tied up in a handkerchief. Shortly after his home-coming his mother died and his father became stone-blind. Arany at once resolved that it was his duty never to leave his father again, and a conrectorship which he obtained at this time enabled them to live in modest comfort. In 1840 he obtained a notaryship also, and the same year married Juliana Ercsey, the penniless orphan daughter of an advocate. The next few happy years were devoted to his profession and a good deal of miscellaneous reading, especially of Shakespeare (he learnt English in order to compare the original with his well-thumbed German version) and Homer. Meanwhile the reactionaries of Vienna were goading the Magyar Liberals into revolt, and Arany found a safety-valve for his growing indignation by composing a satirical poem in hexameters, entitled “The Lost Constitution.” The Kisfaludy Society, the great literary association of Hungary, about this time happened to advertise a prize for the best satire on current 319 events. Arany sent in his work, and shortly afterwards was awarded the 25-gulden prize (7th of February 1846) by the society, which then advertised another prize for the best Magyar epic poem. Arany won this also with his Toldi (the first part of the present trilogy), and immediately found himself famous. All eyes were instantly turned towards the poor country notary, and Petöfi was the first to greet him as a brother. In February of the following year Arany was elected a member of the Kisfaludy Society. In the memorable year 1848 the people of Szalontá elected him their deputy to the Hungarian parliament. But neither now nor subsequently (1861, 1869) would he accept a parliamentary mandate. He wrote many articles, however, in the gazette Népbarátja, an organ of the Magyar government, and served in the field as a national guard for eight or ten weeks. In 1849 he was in the civil service of the revolutionary government, and after the final catastrophe returned to his native place, living as best he could on his small savings till 1850, when Lajos Tisza, the father of Kálmán Tisza, the future prime minister, invited him to his castle at Geszt to teach his son Domokos the art of poetry. In the following year Arany was elected professor of Hungarian literature and language at the Nagy-Körös gymnasium. He also attempted to write another epic poem, but the time was not favourable for such an undertaking. The miserable condition of his country, and his own very precarious situation, weighed heavily upon his sensitive soul, and he suffered severely both in mind and body. On the other hand reflection on past events made clear to him not only the sufferings but the defects and follies of the national heroes, and from henceforth, for the first time, we notice a bitterly humorous vein in his writings. Thus Bolond Istók, the first canto of which he completed in 1850, is full of sub-acrid merriment. During his nine years’ residence at Nagy-Körös, Arany first seriously turned his attention to the Magyar ballad, and not only composed some of the most beautiful ballads in the language, but wrote two priceless dissertations on the technique of the ballad in general: “Something concerning assonance” (1854), and “On Hungarian National Versification” (1856).

ARANY, JÁNOS (1817-1882), the greatest poet of Hungary after Petöfi, was born in Nagy-Szalontá on March 2, 1817, to György Arany and Sara Mégyeri. His family were small Calvinist farmers of noble descent, owning a thatched cottage and a small plot of land. As an only son born later in life, he had no peers of his age, and all he heard were his parents' voices and the hymns and prayers in the small Calvinist chapel. Arany grew up to be a serious and gentle, yet not an ignorant child. His intelligence was striking. At six, he started school in Szalontá and read everything he could find in Hungarian and Latin. From 1832 to 1836, Arany worked as a teacher in Kis-Ujszállás and Debreczen while continuing to voraciously read, having taught himself French and German by this time. Tired of the dull routine of school life, he joined a traveling theater group. The hardships he faced were nothing compared to the guilt he felt over his father's despair, who had hoped to train this wayward son to be a pastor, with both church and college now seeming forever out of reach. Eventually, he borrowed sixpence from the stage manager and returned home, carrying all his belongings in a handkerchief. Shortly after he returned, his mother died and his father went completely blind. Arany immediately decided it was his duty to never leave his father again, and a teaching position he secured at that time allowed them to live modestly. In 1840, he also became a notary, and that same year he married Juliana Ercsey, the poor orphan daughter of a lawyer. The next few happy years were spent in his career and a lot of varied reading, especially Shakespeare (he learned English to compare the original with his well-worn German version) and Homer. Meanwhile, the reactionaries in Vienna were pushing the Magyar Liberals towards rebellion, and Arany channeled his growing frustration into writing a satirical poem in hexameters called “The Lost Constitution.” Around this time, the Kisfaludy Society, Hungary's major literary organization, announced a prize for the best satire on current events. Arany submitted his poem and was awarded the 25-gulden prize on February 7, 1846, prompting the Society to announce another prize for the best Magyar epic poem. He won that, too, with his Toldi (the first part of the current trilogy), and suddenly found himself famous. Everyone turned their attention to the humble village notary, and Petöfi was the first to welcome him as a peer. In February of the following year, Arany was elected a member of the Kisfaludy Society. In the significant year of 1848, the people of Szalontá chose him as their deputy to the Hungarian parliament. However, he refused to take a parliamentary mandate then or in subsequent years (1861, 1869). He wrote many articles for the gazette Népbarátja, a publication of the Magyar government, and served as a national guard in the field for eight to ten weeks. In 1849, he was part of the civil service for the revolutionary government, and after the final disaster returned to his hometown, living off his small savings until 1850 when Lajos Tisza, the father of future Prime Minister Kálmán Tisza, invited him to his castle in Geszt to teach his son Domokos poetry. The following year, Arany was elected as a professor of Hungarian literature and language at the Nagy-Körös gymnasium. He also attempted to write another epic poem, but the time was not right for such a task. The dire state of his country and his own unstable situation weighed heavily on his sensitive soul, causing him distress both mentally and physically. On the other hand, reflecting on past events made him recognize not only the suffering but also the flaws and foolishness of national heroes, and from then on, for the first time, we noticed a bitterly humorous streak in his writings. Hence, Bolond Istók, the first canto of which he completed in 1850, is filled with a sardonic wit. During his nine years at Nagy-Körös, Arany began to focus seriously on the Magyar ballad, composing some of the most beautiful ballads in the language and writing two invaluable essays on ballad technique: “Something Concerning Assonance” (1854) and “On Hungarian National Versification” (1856).

When the Hungarian Academy opened its doors again after a ten years’ cessation, Arany was elected a member (15th of December 1858). On the 15th of July 1860 he was elected director of the revived Kisfaludy Society, and went to Pest. In November, the same year, he started Szépirodalmi Figyelö, a monthly review better known by its later name, Koszeru, which did much for Magyar criticism and literature. He also edited the principal publications of the society, including its notable translation of Shakespeare’s Dramatic Works, to which he contributed the Midsummer Night’s Dream (1864), Hamlet and King John (1867). The same year he won the Nádasdy prize of the Academy with his poem “Death of Buda.” From 1865 to 1879 he was the secretary of the Hungarian Academy.

When the Hungarian Academy reopened after a ten-year break, Arany was elected a member on December 15, 1858. On July 15, 1860, he was elected director of the revived Kisfaludy Society and moved to Pest. In November of the same year, he launched Szépirodalmi Figyelö, a monthly review better known by its later name, Koszeru, which greatly contributed to Hungarian criticism and literature. He also edited the main publications of the society, including its significant translation of Shakespeare’s Dramatic Works, to which he contributed Midsummer Night’s Dream (1864), Hamlet, and King John (1867). That same year, he won the Nádasdy prize from the Academy for his poem “Death of Buda.” From 1865 to 1879, he served as the secretary of the Hungarian Academy.

Domestic affliction, ill-health and his official duties made these years comparatively unproductive, but he issued an edition of his collected poems in 1867, and in 1880 won the Karácsonyi prize with his translation of the Comedies of Aristophanes (1880). In 1879 he completed his epic trilogy by publishing The Love of Toldi and Toldi’s Evening, which were received with universal enthusiasm. He died suddenly on the 24th of October 1882. The first edition of his collected works, in 8 volumes, was published in 1884-1885.

Domestic struggles, health issues, and his official responsibilities made these years relatively unproductive, but he released a collection of his poems in 1867, and in 1880, he won the Karácsonyi prize for his translation of the Comedies of Aristophanes (1880). In 1879, he completed his epic trilogy by publishing The Love of Toldi and Toldi’s Evening, which were met with widespread acclaim. He died unexpectedly on October 24, 1882. The first edition of his collected works, in 8 volumes, was published in 1884-1885.

Arany reformed Hungarian literature. Hitherto classical and romantic successively, like other European literatures, he first gave it a national direction. He compelled the poetry of art to draw nearer to life and nature, extended its boundaries and made it more generally intelligible and popular. He wrote not for one class or school but for the whole nation. He introduced the popular element into literature, but at the same time elevated and ennobled it. What Petöfi had done for lyrical he did for epic poetry. Yet there were great differences between them. Petöfi was more subjective, more individual; Arany was more objective and national. As a lyric poet Petöfi naturally gave expression to present moods and feelings; as an epic poet Arany plunged into the past. He took his standpoint on tradition. His art was essentially rooted in the character of the whole nation and its glorious history. His genius was unusually rich and versatile; his artistic conscience always alert and sober. His taste was extraordinarily developed and absolutely sure. To say nothing of his other great qualities, he is certainly the most artistic of all the Magyar poets.

Arany transformed Hungarian literature. Until then, like other European literatures, it followed classical and romantic styles in succession. He was the first to give it a national focus. He compelled artistic poetry to connect more closely to life and nature, broadened its scope, and made it more accessible and popular. He wrote not just for one class or school but for the entire nation. He infused literature with a popular element while also elevating and enriching it. What Petőfi achieved for lyrical poetry, Arany accomplished for epic poetry. However, there were significant differences between them. Petőfi was more subjective and individual, whereas Arany was more objective and national. As a lyric poet, Petőfi expressed contemporary moods and emotions; as an epic poet, Arany delved into the past. He built his perspective on tradition. His artistry was deeply rooted in the character of the entire nation and its glorious history. His talent was exceptionally rich and versatile, with his artistic judgment always clear-headed and grounded. His taste was extraordinarily refined and absolutely certain. Apart from his other remarkable qualities, he is undoubtedly the most artistic of all Magyar poets.

See Posthumous Writings and Correspondence of Arany, edited by László Arany (Hung.), (Budapest, 1887-1889); article “Arany,” in A Pallas Nagy Lexikona, Kot 2 (Budapest, 1893); Mór Gaal, Life of János Arany (Hung.), (Budapest, 1898); L. Gyöngyösi, János Arany’s Life and Works (Hung.), (Budapest, 1901). Translations from Arany: The Legend of the Wondrous Hunt (canto 6 of Buda’s Death), by D. Butler (London, 1881); Toldi, poème en 12 chants (Paris, 1895); Dichtungen (Leipzig, 1880); Konig Buda’s Tod (Leipzig, 1879); Balladen (Vienna, 1886).

See Posthumous Writings and Correspondence of Arany, edited by László Arany (Hung.), (Budapest, 1887-1889); article “Arany,” in A Pallas Nagy Lexikona, Kot 2 (Budapest, 1893); Mór Gaal, Life of János Arany (Hung.), (Budapest, 1898); L. Gyöngyösi, János Arany’s Life and Works (Hung.), (Budapest, 1901). Translations from Arany: The Legend of the Wondrous Hunt (canto 6 of Buda’s Death), by D. Butler (London, 1881); Toldi, poème en 12 chants (Paris, 1895); Dichtungen (Leipzig, 1880); Konig Buda’s Tod (Leipzig, 1879); Balladen (Vienna, 1886).

(R. N. B.)

ARAPAHO (possibly from the Pawnee for “trader”), a tribe of North American Indians of Algonquian stock. They formerly ranged over the central portion of the plains between the Platte and Arkansas. They were a brave, warlike, predatory tribe. With the Sioux and Cheyennes they waged unremitting warfare upon the Utes. The southern divisions of the tribe were placed (1867) on a reservation in the west of Indian Territory (now Oklahoma), while the northern are in western Wyoming. The southern section sold their reservations in 1892 and became American citizens. The Arapahos number in all some 2000.

ARAPAHO (possibly derived from the Pawnee word for “trader”) is a tribe of North American Indians from the Algonquian group. They once lived over the central plains between the Platte River and the Arkansas River. They were a courageous and combative tribe known for their raids. Alongside the Sioux and Cheyennes, they constantly fought against the Utes. The southern part of the tribe was placed on a reservation in what is now Oklahoma in 1867, while the northern group settled in western Wyoming. The southern section sold their reservation in 1892 and became American citizens. The total population of Arapahos is around 2,000.

See Indians, North American; H.R. Schoolcraft, History of the Indian Tribes of the United States (1851-1837, 6 vols.); Handbook of American Indians, ed. F.W. Hodge (Washington, 1907).

See Indians, North American; H.R. Schoolcraft, History of the Indian Tribes of the United States (1851-1837, 6 vols.); Handbook of American Indians, ed. F.W. Hodge (Washington, 1907).


ARARAT (Armen. Massis, Turk. Egri Dagh, i.e. “Painful Mountain,” Pers. Koh-i-Nuh, i.e. “Mountain of Noah,”), the name given to the culminating point of the Armenian plateau which rises to a height of 17,000 ft. above the sea. The massif of Ararat rises on the north and east out of the alluvial plain of the Aras, here from 2500 ft. to 3000 ft. above the sea, and on the south-west sinks into the plateau of Bayezid, about 4500 ft. It is thus isolated on all sides but the north-west, where a col about 6900 ft. high connects it with a long ridge of volcanic mountains. Out of the massif rise two peaks, “their bases confluent at a height of 8800 ft., their summits about 7 m. apart.” The higher, Great Ararat, is “a huge broad-shouldered mass, more of a dome than a cone”; the lower, Little Ararat, 12,840 ft. on which the territories of the tsar, the sultan, and the shah meet, is “an elegant cone or pyramid, rising with steep, smooth, regular sides into a comparatively sharp peak” (Bryce). On the north and west the slopes of Great Ararat are covered with glittering fields of unbroken névé. The only true glacier is on the north-east side, at the bottom of a large chasm which runs into the heart of the mountain. The great height of the snow-line, 14,000 ft., is due to the small rainfall and the upward rush of dry air from the plain of the Araxes. The middle zone of Ararat, 5000-11,500 ft., is covered with good pasture, the upper and lower zones are for the most part sterile. Whether the tradition which makes Ararat the resting-place of Noah’s Ark is of any historical value or not, there is at least poetical fitness in the hypothesis, inasmuch as this mountain is about equally distant from the Black Sea and the Caspian, from the Mediterranean and the Persian Gulf. Another tradition—accepted by the Kurds, Syrians and Nestorians—fixes on Mount Judi, in the south of Armenia, on the left bank of the Tigris, near Jezire, as the Ark’s resting-place. There so-called genuine relics of the ark were exhibited, and a monastery and mosque of commemoration were built; but the monastery was destroyed by lightning in 776 A.D., and the tradition has declined in credit. Round Mount Ararat, however, gather many traditions connected with the Deluge. The garden of Eden is placed in the valley of the Araxes; Marand is the burial-place of Noah’s wife; at Arghuri, a village near the great chasm, was the spot where Noah planted the first vineyard, and here were shown Noah’s vine and the monastery of St James, until village and monastery were overwhelmed by a fall of rock, ice and snow, shaken down by an earthquake in 1840. According to the Babylonian account, the resting-place of the Ark was “on the Mountain of Nizir,” which some writers have identified with Mount Rowanduz, and others with Mount Elburz, near Teheran.

ARARAT (Armenian Massis, Turkish Egri Dagh, meaning “Painful Mountain,” Persian Koh-i-Nuh, meaning “Mountain of Noah”) is the name given to the highest point of the Armenian plateau, which rises to an altitude of 17,000 feet above sea level. The massif of Ararat ascends on the north and east from the alluvial plain of the Aras, reaching heights of 2500 to 3000 feet above sea level, and on the southwest, it descends into the Bayezid plateau, which is about 4500 feet. It is thus surrounded on all sides except the northwest, where a col about 6900 feet high links it to a long ridge of volcanic mountains. From the massif, two peaks rise up, “their bases merging at a height of 8800 feet, their summits about 7 miles apart.” The taller peak, Great Ararat, is “a massive broad-shouldered form, more dome-shaped than conical”; the shorter, Little Ararat, standing at 12,840 feet where the territories of the tsar, sultan, and shah converge, is “an elegant cone or pyramid, rising with steep, smooth, regular sides into a relatively sharp peak” (Bryce). To the north and west, the slopes of Great Ararat are covered with glimmering fields of untouched névé. The only true glacier is found on the northeast side, at the bottom of a large crevice that cuts into the heart of the mountain. The high position of the snow line, at 14,000 feet, is due to low rainfall and the upward movement of dry air from the Araxes plain. The middle area of Ararat, between 5000 and 11,500 feet, is covered with good pasture, while the upper and lower zones are mostly barren. Whether the tradition that designates Ararat as the resting place of Noah’s Ark holds any historical significance or not, there is at least some poetic relevance in this idea, as the mountain is approximately equidistant from the Black Sea and the Caspian, as well as the Mediterranean and the Persian Gulf. Another legend—accepted by the Kurds, Syrians, and Nestorians—pinpoints Mount Judi, in southern Armenia, on the left bank of the Tigris near Jezire, as the location where the Ark came to rest. There, so-called authentic relics of the Ark were displayed, and a monastery and mosque were built in commemoration; however, the monastery was struck by lightning in 776 CE, causing the tradition to lose credibility. Nevertheless, many stories related to the Deluge are connected with Mount Ararat. The Garden of Eden is said to be situated in the valley of the Araxes; Marand is believed to be the burial site of Noah’s wife; at Arghuri, a village near the large chasm, is claimed to be the spot where Noah planted the first vineyard, with Noah’s vine and the monastery of St. James showcased there until both the village and the monastery were buried by a landslide of rock, ice, and snow caused by an earthquake in 1840. According to the Babylonian account, the Ark came to rest “on the Mountain of Nizir,” which some scholars have linked to Mount Rowanduz while others have associated it with Mount Elburz near Tehran.

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From the Armenian plateau, Ararat rises in a graceful isolated cone far into the region of perennial snow. It was long believed by the Armenian monks that no one was permitted to reach the “secret top” of Ararat with its sacred remains, but on the 27th of September 1829, Dr. Johann Jacob Parrot (1792-1840) of Dorpat, a German in the employment of Russia, set foot on the “dome of eternal ice.” Ararat has since been ascended by S. Aftonomov (1834 and 1843); M. Wagner and W.H. Abich (1845); J. Chodzko, N.W. Chanykov, P.H. Moritz and a party of Cossacks in the service of the Russian government (1850); Stuart (1856); Monteith (1856); D.W. Freshfield (1868); James Bryce (1876); A.V. Markov (1888); P. Pashtukhov and H.B. Lynch (1893). Mr Freshfield thus described the mountain:—“It stands perfectly isolated from all the other ranges, with the still more perfect cone of Little Ararat (a typical volcano) at its side. Seen thus early in the season (May), with at least 9000 ft. of snow on its slopes, from a distance and height well calculated to permit the eye to take in its true proportions, we agreed that no single mountain we know presented such a magnificent and impressive appearance as the Armenian Giant.” There are a number of glaciers in the upper portion, and the climate of the whole district is very severe. The greater part of the mountain is destitute of trees, but the lower Ararat is clothed with birches. The fauna and flora are both comparatively meagre.

From the Armenian plateau, Ararat rises as a beautiful, isolated cone that stretches into areas of permanent snow. For a long time, Armenian monks believed that no one was allowed to reach the "secret top" of Ararat with its sacred remains, but on September 27, 1829, Dr. Johann Jacob Parrot (1792-1840) from Dorpat, a German working for Russia, stepped onto the "dome of eternal ice." Since then, Ararat has been climbed by S. Aftonomov (1834 and 1843); M. Wagner and W.H. Abich (1845); J. Chodzko, N.W. Chanykov, P.H. Moritz, and a group of Cossacks working for the Russian government (1850); Stuart (1856); Monteith (1856); D.W. Freshfield (1868); James Bryce (1876); A.V. Markov (1888); and P. Pashtukhov and H.B. Lynch (1893). Mr. Freshfield described the mountain this way: “It stands perfectly isolated from all the other ranges, with the even more perfect cone of Little Ararat (a typical volcano) beside it. Seen early in the season (May), with at least 9,000 ft. of snow on its slopes, from a distance and height that allows the eye to appreciate its true proportions, we agreed that no single mountain we know looks quite as magnificent and impressive as the Armenian Giant.” There are several glaciers in the upper area, and the climate throughout the region is very harsh. Most of the mountain lacks trees, but the lower part of Ararat is covered with birches. The wildlife and plant life are both relatively sparse.

Both Great and Little Ararat consist entirely of volcanic rocks, chiefly andesites and pyroxene andesites, with some obsidian. No crater now exists at the summit of either, but well-formed parasitic cones occur upon their flanks. There are no certain historic records of any eruption. The earthquake and fall of rock which destroyed the village of Arghuri in 1840 may have been caused by a volcanic explosion, but the evidence is unsatisfactory.

Both Great and Little Ararat are made up completely of volcanic rocks, mainly andesites and pyroxene andesites, along with some obsidian. There are no craters at the top of either mountain now, but there are well-formed parasitic cones on their sides. There are no reliable historic records of any eruptions. The earthquake and rockfall that destroyed the village of Arghuri in 1840 might have been triggered by a volcanic explosion, but the evidence is inconclusive.

The name of Ararat also applies to the Assyrian Urardhu, the country in which the Ark rested after the Deluge (Gen. viii. 4), and to which the murderers of Sennacherib fled (2 Kings xix. 37; Isaiah xxxvii. 38). The name Urardhu, originally that of a principality which included Mount Ararat and the plain of the Araxes, is given in Assyrian inscriptions from the 9th century B.C. downwards to a kingdom that at one time included the greater part of the later Armenia. The native name of the kingdom was Biainas, and its capital was Dhuspas, now Van. The first king, Sarduris I. (c. 833 B.C.), subdued the country of the Upper Euphrates and Tigris. His inscriptions are written in cuneiform, in Assyrian, whilst those of his successors are in cuneiform, in their own language, which is neither Aryan nor Semitic. The kings of Biainas extended their kingdom eastward and westward, and defeated the Assyrians and Hittites. But Sarduris II. was overthrown by Tiglath Pileser III. (743 B.C.), and driven north of the Araxes, where he made Armavir, Armauria, his capital. Interesting specimens of Biainian art have been found on the site of the palace of Rusas II., near Van. Shortly after 645 B.C. the kingdom fell, possibly conquered by Cyaxares, and a way was thus opened for the immigration of the Aryan Armenians. The name Ararat is unknown to the Armenians of the present day. The limits of the Biblical Ararat are not known, but they must have included the lofty Armenian plateau which overlooks the plain of the Araxes on the north, and that of Mesopotamia on the south. It is only natural that the highest and most striking mountain in the district should have been regarded as that upon which the Ark rested, and that the old name of the country should have been transferred to it.

The name Ararat also refers to the Assyrian Urardhu, the land where the Ark came to rest after the flood (Gen. viii. 4), and to which the assassins of Sennacherib fled (2 Kings xix. 37; Isaiah xxxvii. 38). The name Urardhu originally belonged to a principality that included Mount Ararat and the plain of the Araxes and is mentioned in Assyrian inscriptions from the 9th century BCE onward, referring to a kingdom that at one point encompassed most of what is now Armenia. The local name for the kingdom was Biainas, with its capital being Dhuspas, now known as Van. The first king, Sarduris I. (c. 833 BCE), conquered the land around the Upper Euphrates and Tigris rivers. His inscriptions are written in cuneiform in Assyrian, while those of his successors are in cuneiform in their own language, which is neither Aryan nor Semitic. The kings of Biainas expanded their kingdom both east and west, defeating the Assyrians and Hittites. However, Sarduris II. was defeated by Tiglath Pileser III. (743 BCE) and pushed north of the Araxes, where he made Armavir, Armauria, his capital. Notable examples of Biainian art have been discovered at the palace of Rusas II., near Van. Shortly after 645 BCE, the kingdom fell, possibly conquered by Cyaxares, which allowed for the immigration of the Aryan Armenians. The name Ararat is not known to present-day Armenians. The exact boundaries of the Biblical Ararat are unclear, but they likely included the high Armenian plateau that overlooks the Araxes plain to the north and Mesopotamia to the south. It is only natural that the tallest and most prominent mountain in the area would have been thought to be where the Ark rested, leading to the old name of the country being associated with it.

See also H.B. Lynch, Armenia (1901); Sayce, “Cuneiform Inscriptions of Lake Van,” in Journal of Royal Asiatic Society, vols. xiv., xx. and xxvi.; Maspero, Histoire ancienne des peuples de l’Orient classique, tome iii., Les Empires (Paris, 1899); J. Bryce, Transcaucasia and Ararat (4th ed., 1896); D.W. Freshfield, Travels in the Central Caucasus and Bashan (1869); Parrot, Reise zum Ararat (1834); Wagner, Reise nach dem Ararat (1848); Abich, Die Besteigung des Ararat (1849); articles “Ararat,” in Hastings’ Dictionary of the Bible, and the Encyclopaedia Biblica.

See also H.B. Lynch, Armenia (1901); Sayce, “Cuneiform Inscriptions of Lake Van,” in Journal of Royal Asiatic Society, vols. xiv, xx, and xxvi; Maspero, Histoire ancienne des peuples de l’Orient classique, tome iii, Les Empires (Paris, 1899); J. Bryce, Transcaucasia and Ararat (4th ed., 1896); D.W. Freshfield, Travels in the Central Caucasus and Bashan (1869); Parrot, Reise zum Ararat (1834); Wagner, Reise nach dem Ararat (1848); Abich, Die Besteigung des Ararat (1849); articles “Ararat,” in Hastings’ Dictionary of the Bible, and the Encyclopaedia Biblica.

(C. W. W.)

ARARAT, a municipal town of Ripon county, Victoria, Australia, 130 m. by rail W.N.W. of Melbourne. Pop. (1901) 3580. It lies at an elevation of 1028 ft. towards the western extremity of the Great Dividing range. It is the commercial centre of the north-western grain and wool-producing district and is also noted for its quartz and alluvial gold-mines. Excellent wine is made, and flour-milling, leather-working, brick and candle making and soap-boiling are the chief industries. The district also yields the best timber in great quantity. Granite, bluestone, limestone and slate abound in the neighbourhood.

ARARAT, is a town in Ripon County, Victoria, Australia, located 130 miles by rail northwest of Melbourne. The population was 3,580 in 1901. It sits at an elevation of 1,028 feet at the western end of the Great Dividing Range. The town is the commercial hub of the northwestern grain and wool-producing region and is also known for its quartz and alluvial gold mines. High-quality wine is produced here, and the main industries include flour milling, leather working, brick and candle making, and soap production. The area also provides an abundance of high-quality timber, along with granite, bluestone, limestone, and slate readily available in the surrounding region.


ARAROBA POWDER, a drug occurring in the form of a yellowish-brown powder, varying considerably in tint, which derives an alternative name—Goa powder—from the Portuguese colony of Goa, where it appears to have been introduced about the year 1852. The tree which yields it is the Andira Araroba of the natural order Leguminosae. It is met with in great abundance in certain forests in the province of Bahia, preferring as a rule low and humid spots. The tree is from 80 to 100 ft. high and has large imparipinnate leaves, the leaflets of which are oblong, about 1½ in. long and ¾ in. broad, and somewhat truncate at the apex. The flowers are papilionaceous, of a purple colour and arranged in panicles. The Goa powder or araroba is contained in the trunk, filling crevices in the heartwood. It is a morbid product in the tree, and yields to hot chloroform 50% of a substance known officially as chrysarobin, which has a definite therapeutic value and is contained in most modern pharmacopoeias. It occurs as a micro-crystalline, odourless, tasteless powder, very slightly soluble in either water or alcohol; it also occurs in rhubarb root. This complex mixture contains pure chrysarobin (C15H12O3), di-chrysarobin methylether (C30H23O7·OCH3), di-chrysarobin (C30H24O7). Chrysarobin is a methyl trioxyanthracene and exists as a glucoside in the plant, but is gradually oxidized to chrysophanic acid (a dioxy-methyl anthraquinone) and glucose. This strikes a blood-red colour in alkaline solutions, and may therefore cause much alarm if administered to a patient whose urine is alkaline. The British pharmacopoeia has an ointment containing one part of chrysarobin and 24 of benzoated lard.

ARAROBA POWDER, is a substance that comes in a yellowish-brown powder, which varies quite a bit in color. It's also known as Goa powder, named after the Portuguese colony of Goa, where it seems to have been introduced around 1852. The tree that produces it is called Andira Araroba and belongs to the Leguminosae family. It can be found in large quantities in certain forests in Bahia, typically in low, humid areas. This tree reaches heights of 80 to 100 feet and has large, compound leaves with leaflets that are oblong, about 1½ inches long and ¾ inch wide, with a somewhat flat end. The flowers are butterfly-shaped, purple, and grow in clusters. The Goa powder or araroba is found in the trunk, filling the cracks in the heartwood. It's a sickly product of the tree, and when treated with hot chloroform, it yields 50% of a substance recognized as chrysarobin, which has specific therapeutic uses and is included in most modern pharmacopeias. This powder is micro-crystalline, odourless, and tasteless, only slightly soluble in water or alcohol; it can also be found in rhubarb root. This mixture contains pure chrysarobin (C15H12O3), di-chrysarobin methylether (C30H23O7·OCH3), and di-chrysarobin (C30H24O7). Chrysarobin is a methyl trioxyanthracene and exists as a glucoside in the plant, gradually oxidizing into chrysophanic acid (a dioxy-methyl anthraquinone) and glucose. This results in a blood-red color in alkaline solutions, which can be alarming if given to a patient with alkaline urine. The British pharmacopoeia includes an ointment containing one part of chrysarobin and 24 parts of benzoated lard.

Both internally and externally the drug is a powerful irritant. The general practice amongst modern dermatologists is to use only chrysophanic acid, which may be applied externally and given by the mouth in doses of about one grain in cases of psoriasis and chronic eczema. The drug is a feeble parasiticide, and has been used locally in the treatment of ringworm. It stains the skin—and linen—a deep yellow or brown, a coloration which may be removed by caustic alkali in weak solution.

Both inside and out, the drug is a strong irritant. Most modern dermatologists typically use only chrysophanic acid, which can be applied externally and taken orally in doses of about one grain for conditions like psoriasis and chronic eczema. The drug is a weak treatment for parasites and has been used locally to treat ringworm. It stains the skin—and fabrics—a deep yellow or brown, a color that can be removed with a weak solution of caustic alkali.


ARAS, the anc. Araxes, and the Phasis of Xenophon (Turk. and Arab. Ras, Armen. Yerash, Georg. Rashki), a river which rises south of Erzerum, in the Bingeul-dagh, and flows east through the province of Erzerum, across the Pasin plateau, and then through Russian Armenia, passing between Mount Ararat and Erivan, and forming the Russo-Persian frontier. Its course is about 600 m. long; its principal tributary is the Zanga, which flows by Erivan and drains Lake Gokcha or Sevanga. It is a rapid and muddy stream, dangerous to cross when swollen by the melting of the snows in Armenia, but fordable in its ordinary state. It formerly joined the Kura; but in 1897 it changed its lower course, and now runs direct to the Kizil-agach Bay of the Caspian. On an island in its bed stood Artaxata, the capital of Armenia from 180 B.C. to A.D. 50.

ARAS, the ancient Araxes, and the Phasis mentioned by Xenophon (Turkish and Arabic Ras, Armenian Yerash, Georgian Rashki), is a river that rises south of Erzerum, in the Bingeul-dagh, and flows east through the province of Erzerum, across the Pasin plateau, then through Russian Armenia, passing between Mount Ararat and Yerevan, and forming the Russo-Persian border. Its course is about 600 kilometers long; its main tributary is the Zanga, which flows by Yerevan and drains Lake Gokcha or Sevanga. It is a fast and muddy stream, dangerous to cross when swollen from melting snow in Armenia, but is passable in its regular state. It used to join the Kura, but in 1897 it changed its lower course and now flows directly to Kizil-agach Bay in the Caspian Sea. On an island in its bed stood Artaxata, the capital of Armenia from 180 BCE to CE 50.


ARASON, JON (1484-1551), Icelandic bishop and poet, became a priest about 1504, and having attracted the notice of Gottskalk, bishop of Holar, was sent by that prelate on two missions to Norway. In 1522 he succeeded Gottskalk in the see of Holar, but he was soon driven out by the other Icelandic bishop, Ogmund of Skalholt. His exile, however, was brief, and some years after his return he became involved in a dispute with his sovereign, Christian III., king of Denmark, because he refused to further the progress of Lutheranism in the island. Then in 1548, when a large number of the islanders had accepted the reformed doctrines, Arason and Ogmund joined their forces and attacked the Lutherans. Civil war broke out, and in 1551 the bishop of Holar and two of his sons were captured and executed. Arason, who was the last Roman Catholic bishop in Iceland, is celebrated as a poet, and as the man who introduced printing into the island.

ARASON, JON (1484-1551), an Icelandic bishop and poet, became a priest around 1504. He caught the attention of Gottskalk, the bishop of Holar, who sent him on two missions to Norway. In 1522, he took over Gottskalk's position in the diocese of Holar, but he was soon ousted by the other Icelandic bishop, Ogmund of Skalholt. However, his exile was short-lived, and after returning, he became involved in a conflict with his ruler, Christian III, king of Denmark, because he refused to promote Lutheranism on the island. Then in 1548, when many islanders had adopted the reformed beliefs, Arason and Ogmund teamed up to fight against the Lutherans. Civil war erupted, and in 1551 the bishop of Holar and two of his sons were captured and executed. Arason, the last Roman Catholic bishop in Iceland, is remembered as a poet and for introducing printing to the island.


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ARATOR, of Liguria, a Christian poet, who lived during the 6th century. He was an orphan, and owed his early education to Laurentius, archbishop of Milan, and Ennodius, bishop of Pavia, who took great interest in him. After completing his studies, he practised with success as an advocate, and was appointed to an influential post at the court of Athalaric, king of the Ostrogoths. About 540, he quitted the service of the state, took orders and was elected sub-deacon of the Roman Church. He gained the favour of Pope Vigilius, to whom he dedicated his De Actibus Aposlolorum (written about 544), which was much admired in the middle ages. The poem, consisting of some 2500 hexameters, is of little merit, being full of mystical and allegorical interpretations and long-winded digressions; the versification, except for certain eccentricities in prosody, is generally correct.

ARATOR, from Liguria was a Christian poet who lived in the 6th century. He was an orphan and received his early education from Laurentius, the archbishop of Milan, and Ennodius, the bishop of Pavia, who both took a great interest in him. After finishing his studies, he successfully worked as a lawyer and was appointed to an influential position at the court of Athalaric, the king of the Ostrogoths. Around 540, he left his state position, became a clergyman, and was elected sub-deacon of the Roman Church. He earned the favor of Pope Vigilius, to whom he dedicated his De Actibus Apostolorum (written around 544), which was highly regarded in the Middle Ages. The poem, consisting of about 2500 hexameters, isn’t very impressive, as it’s filled with mystical and allegorical interpretations along with lengthy digressions; the verse, aside from some oddities in rhythm, is generally correct.

Text by Hübner, 1850. See Leimbach, “Der Dichter Arator,” in Theologische Studien und Kritik (1873); Manitius, Geschichte der christlich-lateinischen Poesie (1891).

Text by Hübner, 1850. See Leimbach, “The Poet Arator,” in Theological Studies and Criticism (1873); Manitius, History of Christian-Latin Poetry (1891).


ARATUS, Greek statesman, was born at Sicyon in 271 B.C., and educated at Argos after the death of his father, at the hands of Abantidas, tyrant of Sicyon. When twenty years old Aratus delivered Sicyon from its tyrant by a bold coup de main. By enrolling it in the Achaean League (q.v.) he secured it against Macedonia, and with funds received from Ptolemy Philadelphus he pacified the returned exiles. Ever anxious to extend the league, in which after 245 he was general almost every second year, Aratus took Corinth by surprise (243), and with mingled threats and persuasion won over other cities, notably Megalopolis (233) and Argos (229), whose tyrants abdicated voluntarily. He fought successfully against the Aetolians (241), and in 228 induced the Macedonian commander to evacuate Attica. But when Cleomenes III. (q.v.) opened hostilities, Aratus sustained several reverses, and was badly defeated near Dyme (226 or 225). Rather than admit Cleomenes as chief of the league, where he might have upset the existing timocracy, Aratus opposed all attempts at mediation. As plenipotentiary in 224 he called in Antigonus Doson of Macedonia, and helped to recover Corinth and Argos and to crush Cleomenes at Sellasia, but at the same time sacrificed the independence of the league. In 220-219 the Aetolians defeated him in Arcadia and harried the Peloponnese unchecked. When Philip V. of Macedon came to expel these marauders, Aratus became the king’s adviser, and averted a treacherous attack on Messene (215); before long, however, he lost favour and in 213 was poisoned. The Sicyonians accorded him hero-worship as a “son of Asclepius.” To Aratus is due the credit of having made the Achaean League an effective instrument against tyrants and foreign enemies. But his military incapacity and his blind hatred of democratic reform went far to undo his work.

ARATUS, Greek statesman, was born in Sicyon in 271 BCE and was educated in Argos after his father was killed by Abantidas, the tyrant of Sicyon. At the age of twenty, Aratus overthrew the tyrant in a bold surprise effort. By integrating Sicyon into the Achaean League (q.v.), he safeguarded it from Macedonia, and with funds from Ptolemy Philadelphus, he settled the returning exiles. Eager to expand the league, of which he was general almost every second year after 245, Aratus captured Corinth unexpectedly in 243 and, using a mix of threats and persuasion, won over other cities, especially Megalopolis (233) and Argos (229), whose tyrants stepped down voluntarily. He had successful battles against the Aetolians (241) and in 228 convinced the Macedonian commander to leave Attica. However, when Cleomenes III. (q.v.) started hostilities, Aratus faced several setbacks and suffered a major defeat near Dyme (226 or 225). Rather than accept Cleomenes as the leader of the league, which could have disrupted the existing timocracy, Aratus resisted all efforts at mediation. As a special representative in 224, he summoned Antigonus Doson of Macedonia and assisted in reclaiming Corinth and Argos while defeating Cleomenes at Sellasia, but in doing so, he sacrificed the league's independence. In 220-219, the Aetolians beat him in Arcadia and ravaged the Peloponnese without restraint. When Philip V. of Macedon arrived to drive out these raiders, Aratus became the king's advisor and prevented a treacherous attack on Messene (215); however, he soon fell out of favor and was poisoned in 213. The Sicyonians honored him as a "son of Asclepius." Aratus is credited with making the Achaean League an effective force against tyrants and foreign enemies, but his military incompetence and strong opposition to democratic reform largely undermined his achievements.

Polybius (ii.-viii.) follows the Memoirs which Aratus wrote to justify his statesmanship,—Plutarch (Aratus and Cleomenes) used this same source and the hostile account of Phylarchus; Paus. ii. 10; see Neumeyer, Aralos von Sikyon (Leipzig, 1886).

Polybius (ii.-viii.) refers to the Memoirs written by Aratus to explain his political leadership. Plutarch (Aratus and Cleomenes) used this same source along with the critical perspective of Phylarchus; Paus. ii. 10; see Neumeyer, Aralos von Sikyon (Leipzig, 1886).

(M. O. B. C.)

ARATUS, of Soli in Cilicia, Greek didactic poet, a contemporary of Callimachus and Theocritus, was born about 315 B.C. He was invited (about 276) to the court of Antigonus Gonatas of Macedonia, where he wrote his most famous poem, Φαινόμενα (Appearances, or Phenomena). He then spent some time with Antiochus I. of Syria; but subsequently returned to Macedonia, where he died about 245. Aratus’s only extant works are two short poems, or two fragments of his one poem, written in hexameters; an imitation of a prose work on astronomy by Eudoxus of Cnidus, and Διοσημεῖα (on weather signs), chiefly from Theophrastus. The work has all the characteristics of the Alexandrian school of poetry. Although Aratus was ignorant of astronomy, his poem attracted the favourable notice of distinguished specialists, such as Hipparchus, who wrote commentaries upon it. Amongst the Romans it enjoyed a high reputation (Ovid, Amores, i. 15, 16). Cicero, Caesar Germanicus and Avienus translated it; the two last versions and fragments of Cicero’s are still extant. Quintilian (Instit. x. i, 55) is less enthusiastic. Virgil has imitated the Prognostica to some extent in the Georgics. One verse from the opening invocation to Zeus has become famous from being quoted by St Paul (Acts xvii. 28). Several accounts of his life are extant, by anonymous Greek writers.

ARATUS, from Soli in Cilicia was a Greek didactic poet who lived around the same time as Callimachus and Theocritus, born around 315 BCE He was invited around 276 to the court of Antigonus Gonatas in Macedonia, where he wrote his most well-known poem, Phenomena (Appearances, or Phenomena). He then spent some time with Antiochus I of Syria but later returned to Macedonia, where he died around 245. The only surviving works by Aratus are two short poems, or two fragments of his single poem, written in hexameters; one is an imitation of Eudoxus of Cnidus's prose work on astronomy, and the other is Διοσημεῖα (on weather signs), mainly based on Theophrastus. His work reflects the characteristics of the Alexandrian school of poetry. Although Aratus wasn’t knowledgeable about astronomy, his poem garnered praise from noted experts like Hipparchus, who wrote commentaries on it. It was well-regarded among the Romans (Ovid, Amores, i. 15, 16). Cicero, Caesar Germanicus, and Avienus translated it; the latter two translations and fragments of Cicero’s are still available today. Quintilian (Instit. x. i, 55) is less enthusiastic. Virgil drew some inspiration from the Prognostica in the Georgics. One line from the opening invocation to Zeus has become famous because it was quoted by St. Paul (Acts xvii. 28). Several accounts of his life exist, written by anonymous Greek authors.

Editio princeps, 1499; Buhle, 1793; Maass, 1893; Aratea (1892), Commentariorum in Aratum Reliquiae (1898), by the same. English translations: Lamb, 1848; Poste, 1880; R. Brown, 1885; Prince, 1895. On recently discovered fragments, see H.I. Bell, in Classical Quarterly, April 1907; also Berliner Klassikertexte, Heft v. 1, pp. 47-54.

Editio princeps, 1499; Buhle, 1793; Maass, 1893; Aratea (1892), Commentariorum in Aratum Reliquiae (1898), by the same. English translations: Lamb, 1848; Poste, 1880; R. Brown, 1885; Prince, 1895. For recently discovered fragments, see H.I. Bell, in Classical Quarterly, April 1907; also Berliner Klassikertexte, Heft v. 1, pp. 47-54.


ARAUCANIA, the name of a large territory of Chile, South America, S. of the Bio-bio river, belonging to the Araucanian Indians (see below) at the time of their independence of Spanish and Chilean authority. The loss of their political independence has been followed by that of the greater part of their territory, which has been divided up into the Chilean provinces of Arauco, Bio-bio, Malleco and Cautin, and the Indians, much reduced in number, now live in the wooded recesses of the three provinces last named.

ARAUCANIA, is the name of a large area in Chile, South America, south of the Bio-bio River, that belonged to the Araucanian Indians at the time they gained independence from Spanish and Chilean control. The loss of their political independence has led to the loss of most of their land, which has been split into the Chilean provinces of Arauco, Bio-bio, Malleco, and Cautin. The Indigenous population, now significantly reduced, currently resides in the forested areas of the last three provinces mentioned.


ARAUCANIANS (or Auca), a tribal group of South American Indians in southern Chile (see above). Physically a fine race, their hardiness and bravery enabled them successfully to resist the Incas in the 15th century. Their government was by four toquis or princes, independent of one another, but confederates against foreign enemies. Each tetrarchy was divided into five provinces, ruled by five chiefs called apo-ulmen; and each province into nine districts, governed by as many ulmen, who were subject to the apo-ulmen, as the latter were to the toquis. These various chiefs (who all bore the title of ulmen) composed the aristocracy of the country. They held their dignities by hereditary descent in the male line, and in the order of primogeniture. The supreme power of each tetrarchy resided in a council of the ulmen, who assembled annually in a large plain. The resolutions of this council were subject to popular assent. The chiefs, indeed, were little more than leaders in war; for the right of private revenge limited their authority in judicial matters; and they received no taxes. Their laws were merely traditional customs. War was declared by the council, messengers bearing arrows dipped in blood being sent to all parts of the country to summon the men to arms. From the time of the first Spanish invasion (1535) the Araucanians made a vigorous resistance, and after worsting the best soldiers and the best generals of Spain for two centuries obtained an acknowledgment of their independence. Their success was due as much to their readiness in adopting their enemy’s methods of warfare as to their bravery. Realizing the inefficiency of their old missiles when opposed to musket balls, they laid aside their bows, and armed themselves with spears, swords or other weapons fitted for close combat. Their practice was to advance rapidly within such a distance of the Spaniards as would not leave the latter time to reload after firing. Here they received without shrinking a volley, which was certain to destroy a number of them, and then rushing forward in close order, fought their enemies hand to hand.

ARAUCANIANS (or Auca), a tribal group of South American Indians in southern Chile (see above). They are a strong people, and their toughness and courage allowed them to successfully resist the Incas in the 15th century. Their government was made up of four toquis or princes, who were independent from one another but united against outside threats. Each region was divided into five provinces, led by five chiefs called apo-ulmen; and each province was divided into nine districts, each governed by as many ulmen, who answered to the apo-ulmen, just like the latter answered to the toquis. These various chiefs (all called ulmen) made up the aristocracy of the land. They inherited their titles through the male line, following the order of primogeniture. The highest authority in each region rested in a council of ulmen, which met annually on a large plain. The council's decisions had to be approved by the people. The chiefs were mainly leaders in battle; their authority in legal matters was limited by the right to personal revenge, and they didn’t collect taxes. Their laws were simply traditional customs. War was declared by the council, and messengers with arrows dipped in blood were sent throughout the country to summon the men to fight. Since the first Spanish invasion (1535), the Araucanians fought fiercely, and after defeating Spain's best soldiers and generals for two centuries, they gained recognition of their independence. Their success was largely due to their ability to adopt their enemy’s tactics along with their bravery. Understanding that their old weapons were ineffective against muskets, they dropped their bows and armed themselves with spears, swords, and other close-combat weapons. Their strategy was to quickly advance within a distance that wouldn’t allow the Spaniards time to reload after shooting. They took a volley that would certainly kill some of them, and then charged in close formation to fight hand-to-hand.

The Araucanians believe in a supreme being, and in many subordinate spirits, good and bad. They believe also in omens and divination, but they have neither temples nor idols, nor religious rites. Very few have become Roman Catholics. They believe in a future state, and have a confused tradition respecting a deluge, from which some persons were saved on a high mountain. They divide the year into twelve months of thirty days, and add five days by intercalation. They esteem poetry and eloquence, but can scarcely be induced to learn reading or writing.

The Araucanians believe in a supreme being, along with many good and bad spirits. They also believe in omens and divination, but they don't have temples, idols, or religious ceremonies. Very few have converted to Roman Catholicism. They believe in an afterlife and have an unclear tradition about a flood that spared some people on a high mountain. They divide the year into twelve months of thirty days and add five extra days. They value poetry and eloquence, but are rarely persuaded to learn reading or writing.

The tribal divisions have little or no organization. Some 50,000 in number, they spend a nomad existence wandering from pasture to pasture, living in low skin tents, their herds providing their food. They still preserve their warlike nature, though in 1870 they formally recognized Chilean rule. In 1861 Antoine de Tounens (1820-1878), a French adventurer in Chile, proclaimed himself king of Araucania under the title of Orélie Antoine I., and tried to obtain subscriptions from France to support his enterprise. But his pretensions were ludicrous; he was quickly captured by the Chileans and sent back to France (1862) as a madman; and though he made one more abortive effort in 1874 322 to recover his “kingdom,” and occupied his pen in magnifying his achievements, nobody took him seriously except a few of the deluded Indians.

The tribal groups are pretty disorganized. Numbering around 50,000, they live a nomadic lifestyle, moving from pasture to pasture and staying in simple skin tents, with their livestock providing their meals. They still show their warrior spirit, even though they officially acknowledged Chilean authority in 1870. In 1861, Antoine de Tounens (1820-1878), a French adventurer in Chile, declared himself king of Araucania under the name Orélie Antoine I., attempting to get support from France for his venture. However, his claims were ridiculous; he was quickly captured by the Chileans and sent back to France in 1862 as a madman. Although he made one more failed attempt in 1874 to reclaim his "kingdom" and spent his time exaggerating his accomplishments, hardly anyone believed him except for a few misled Indians.

See Domeyko, Araucania y sus habitantes (Santiago, 1846); de Ginoux, “Le Chili et les Araucans,” in Bull, de la soc, de géogr. (1852); E.R. Smith, Araucamans (New York, 1855); J.T. Medina, Los aborjenes de Chile (Santiago, 1882); A. Polakowsky, Die heutigen Araukanen, Globus No. 74 (Brunswick, 1898).

See Domeyko, Araucania y sus habitantes (Santiago, 1846); de Ginoux, “Le Chili et les Araucans,” in Bull, de la soc, de géogr. (1852); E.R. Smith, Araucamans (New York, 1855); J.T. Medina, Los aborjenes de Chile (Santiago, 1882); A. Polakowsky, Die heutigen Araukanen, Globus No. 74 (Brunswick, 1898).


ARAUCARIA, a genus of coniferous trees included in the tribe Araucarineae. They are magnificent evergreen trees, with apparently whorled branches, and stiff, flattened, pointed leaves, found in Brazil and Chile, Polynesia and Australia. The name of the genus is derived from Arauco, the name of the district in southern Chile where the trees were first discovered. Araucaria imbricata, the Chile pine, or “monkey puzzle,” was introduced into Britain in 1796. It is largely cultivated, and usually stands the winter of Britain; but in some years, when the temperature fell very low, the trees have suffered much. Care should be taken in planting to select a spot somewhat elevated and well drained. The tree grows to the height of 150 ft. in the Cordilleras of Chile. The cones are from 8 to 8½ in. broad, and 7 to 7½ in. long. The wood of the tree is hard and durable. This is the only species which can be cultivated in the open air in Britain. Araucaria brasiliana, the Brazil pine, is a native of the mountains of southern Brazil, and was introduced into Britain in 1819. It is not so hardy as A. imbricata, and requires protection during winter. It is grown in conservatories for half-hardy plants. Araucaria excelsa, the Norfolk Island pine, a native of Norfolk Island and New Caledonia, was discovered during Captain Cook’s second voyage, and introduced into Britain by Sir Joseph Banks in 1793. It cannot be grown in the open air in Britain, as it requires protection from frost, and is more tender than the Brazilian pine. It is a majestic tree, sometimes attaining a height of more than 220 ft. The scales of its cones are winged, and have a hook at the apex. Araucaria Cunninghami, the Moreton Bay pine, is a tall tree abundant on the shores of Moreton Bay, Australia, and found through the littoral region of Queensland to Cape York Peninsula, also in New Guinea. It requires protection in England during the winter. Araucaria Bidwilli, the Bunya-Bunya pine, found on the mountains of southern Queensland, between the rivers Brisbane and Burnett, at 27° S. lat., is a noble tree, attaining a height of 100 to 150 ft., with a straight trunk and white wood. It bears cones as large as a man’s head. Its seeds are very large, and are used as food by the natives. Araucaria Rulei, which is a tree of New Caledonia, attains a height of 50 or 60 ft. Araucaria Cookii, also a native of New Caledonia, attains a height of 150 ft. It is found also in the Isle of Pines, and in the New Hebrides. The tree has a remarkable appearance, due to shedding its primary branches for about five-sixths of its height and replacing them by a small bushy growth, the whole resembling a tall column crowned with foliage, suggesting to its discoverer, Captain Cook, a tall column of basalt.

ARAUCARIA, is a genus of coniferous trees in the tribe Araucarineae. These are impressive evergreen trees with seemingly whorled branches and stiff, flat, pointed leaves, found in Brazil and Chile, Polynesia, and Australia. The genus name comes from Arauco, a district in southern Chile where the trees were first found. Araucaria imbricata, known as the Chile pine or "monkey puzzle," was brought to Britain in 1796. It is widely cultivated and can usually survive British winters, but in some years, when temperatures drop significantly, the trees can suffer. When planting, choose a spot that is somewhat elevated and well-drained. The tree can grow up to 150 ft. high in the Cordilleras of Chile. The cones measure 8 to 8½ inches wide and 7 to 7½ inches long. The wood is hard and durable. This is the only species that can be grown outdoors in Britain. Araucaria brasiliana, or the Brazil pine, is native to the mountains of southern Brazil and was introduced to Britain in 1819. It is not as hardy as A. imbricata and needs protection during the winter. It is cultivated in conservatories for half-hardy plants. Araucaria excelsa, known as the Norfolk Island pine, is native to Norfolk Island and New Caledonia. It was discovered during Captain Cook’s second voyage and introduced to Britain by Sir Joseph Banks in 1793. This tree cannot be grown outdoors in Britain since it needs frost protection and is more delicate than the Brazilian pine. It is a majestic tree, sometimes reaching over 220 ft. tall with winged cone scales that have a hook at the tip. Araucaria Cunninghamii, the Moreton Bay pine, is a tall tree commonly found along the shores of Moreton Bay, Australia, and throughout the coastline from Queensland to Cape York Peninsula, as well as in New Guinea. It requires winter protection in England. Araucaria Bidwillii, the Bunya-Bunya pine, grows in the mountains of southern Queensland, between the Brisbane and Burnett rivers, at 27° S. lat. It is a stately tree, reaching 100 to 150 ft. tall, with a straight trunk and white wood. It produces cones as large as a man’s head, and its large seeds are food for the locals. Araucaria Rulei, found in New Caledonia, grows to about 50 or 60 ft. Araucaria Cookii, also native to New Caledonia, can reach 150 ft. It is also found on the Isle of Pines and in the New Hebrides. The tree has a distinctive appearance, as it sheds its main branches for about five-sixths of its height, growing a small bushy top that resembles a tall column topped with foliage, which reminded its discoverer, Captain Cook, of a tall column of basalt.


ARAUCO, a coast province of southern Chile, bounded N., E. and S. by the provinces of Concepción, Bio-bio, Malleco and Cautin. Area, 2458 sq. m.; pop. (est. 1902) 70,635. The province originally covered the once independent Indian territory of Araucania (q.v.), but this was afterwards divided into four provinces. It is devoted largely to agricultural pursuits. The capital Lebú (pop. in 1902, 3178) is situated on the coast about 55 m. south of Conceptión, with which it is connected by rail.

ARAUCO, is a coastal province in southern Chile, bordered to the north, east, and south by the provinces of Concepción, Bio-bio, Malleco, and Cautin. Its area is 2,458 square miles, with an estimated population of 70,635 in 1902. The province originally included the once independent Indigenous territory of Araucania (q.v.), but this was later split into four provinces. A significant portion of the land is dedicated to agriculture. The capital, Lebú (population in 1902, 3,178), is located on the coast about 55 miles south of Concepción, which it is connected to by rail.


ARAVALLI HILLS, a range of mountains in India, running for 300 m. in a north-easterly direction, through the Rajputana states and the British district of Ajmere-Merwara, situated between 24° and 27° 10′ N. lat., and between 72° and 75° E. long. They consist of a series of ridges and peaks, with a breadth varying from 6 to 60 m. and an elevation of 1000 to 3000 ft., the highest point being Mount Abu, rising to 5653 ft., near the south-western extremity of the range. Geologically they belong to the primitive formation—granite, compact dark blue slate, gneiss and syenite. The dazzling white effect of their peaks is produced, not by snow, as among the Himalayas, but by enormous masses of vitreous rose-coloured quartz. On the north their drainage forms the Luni and Sakhi rivers, which fall into the Gulf of Cutch. To the south, their drainage supplies two distinct river systems, one of which debouches in comparatively small streams on the Gulf of Cambay, while the other unites to form the Chambal river, a great southern tributary of the Jumna, flowing thence via the Ganges, into the Bay of Bengal on the other side of India. The Aravalli hills are for the most part bare of cultivation, and even of jungle. Many of them are mere heaps of sand and stone; others consist of huge masses of quartz. The valleys between the ridges are generally sandy deserts, with an occasional oasis of cultivation. At long intervals, however, a fertile tract marks some great natural line of drainage, and among such valleys Ajmere city, with its lake, stands conspicuous. The hills are inhabited by a very sparse population of Mhairs, an aboriginal race. For long these people formed a difficult problem to the British government. Previously to the British occupation of India they had been accustomed to live, almost destitute of clothing, by the produce of their herds, by the chase and by plunder. But Ajmere having been ceded to the East India Company in 1818, the Mhair country was soon afterwards brought under British influence, and the predatory instincts of the people were at the same time controlled and utilized by forming them into a Merwara battalion. As the peaceful results of British rule developed, and the old feuds between the Mhairs and their Rajput neighbours died out, the Mhair battalion was transformed into a police force. The Aravalli mountaineers strongly objected to this change, and pleaded a long period of loyal usefulness to the state. They were accordingly again erected into a military battalion and brought upon the roll of the British army. Under Lord Kitchener’s scheme of 1903 they were entitled the 50th Merwara Infantry. The Aravalli hills send off rocky ridges in a north-easterly direction through the states of Alwar and Jaipur, which from time to time reappear in the form of isolated hills and broken rocky elevations to near Delhi.

ARAVALLI HILLS,, a mountain range in India, stretches for 300 miles in a north-easterly direction through the Rajputana states and the British district of Ajmere-Merwara, located between 24° and 27° 10′ N latitude, and between 72° and 75° E longitude. The range consists of a series of ridges and peaks with a width varying from 6 to 60 miles and elevations from 1,000 to 3,000 feet, the highest point being Mount Abu, which rises to 5,653 feet near the southwestern end of the range. Geologically, they belong to the ancient formation—granite, compact dark blue slate, gneiss, and syenite. The bright white appearance of their peaks is due not to snow, as is seen in the Himalayas, but to large deposits of rose-colored quartz. To the north, the drainage forms the Luni and Sakhi rivers, which flow into the Gulf of Cutch. To the south, the drainage feeds two distinct river systems: one drains into relatively small streams on the Gulf of Cambay, while the other combines to form the Chambal River, a major southern tributary of the Jumna, which flows through the Ganges into the Bay of Bengal on the opposite side of India. The Aravalli hills are mostly devoid of cultivation and even jungles. Many areas are just piles of sand and stone, while others are made up of massive quartz formations. The valleys between the ridges are usually sandy deserts, with occasional fertile oases. However, at long intervals, fertile land marks significant natural drainage lines, and among these valleys, Ajmere city, with its lake, stands out. The hills are home to a very sparse population of Mhairs, an indigenous group. For a long time, these people were a challenge for the British government. Before British rule in India, they lived almost without clothing, relying on their herds, hunting, and raiding. However, after Ajmere was ceded to the East India Company in 1818, the Mhair region was soon brought under British control, and the people’s predatory instincts were regulated and used by forming them into a Merwara battalion. As the peaceful results of British governance grew, and the longstanding conflicts between the Mhairs and their Rajput neighbors subsided, the Mhair battalion was changed into a police force. The Aravalli mountaineers strongly resisted this change, arguing their long record of loyal service to the state. As a result, they were reestablished as a military battalion and incorporated into the British army. Under Lord Kitchener’s 1903 plan, they were designated the 50th Merwara Infantry. The Aravalli hills extend rocky ridges in a north-easterly direction through the Alwar and Jaipur states, occasionally reemerging as isolated hills and rugged rocky elevations near Delhi.


ARAWAK (“meal-eaters,” in reference to cassava, their staple food), a tribe of South American Indians of Dutch and British Guiana. The Arawaks have given their name to a linguistic stock of South America, the Arawakan, which includes many once powerful tribes. The Arawakans were once numerous, their tribes stretching from southern Brazil and Bolivia to Central America, occupying the whole of the West Indies and having settlements on the Florida seaboard. They were found by the Spaniards in Haiti and possibly in the Bahamas, but the Caribs had expelled them from most of the islands. The Arawaks proper were physically an undersized, weakly people, peaceable agriculturists, by far the most civilized of all Guiana peoples, being skilful weavers and workers in stone and gold. The chief tribes which may be called Arawakan are the Anti, Arawak, Barre, Goajiro, Guana, Manaos, Maneteneri, Maipuri, Maranho, Moxo, Passé, Piro and Taruma.

ARAWAK (“meal-eaters,” referring to cassava, their main food), a tribe of South American Indians from Dutch and British Guiana. The Arawaks have given their name to a linguistic group in South America, the Arawakan, which includes many once-powerful tribes. The Arawakans were once numerous, with their tribes spanning from southern Brazil and Bolivia to Central America, occupying the entire West Indies and having settlements along the Florida coast. They were encountered by the Spaniards in Haiti and possibly in the Bahamas, but the Caribs had driven them out of most of the islands. The Arawaks themselves were a physically small, fragile people, peaceful farmers, by far the most civilized among all Guiana peoples, excelling in weaving and working with stone and gold. The main tribes that can be classified as Arawakan include the Anti, Arawak, Barre, Goajiro, Guana, Manaos, Maneteneri, Maipuri, Maranho, Moxo, Passé, Piro, and Taruma.

See Everard F. im Thurn, Among the Indians of Guiana (London, 1883).

See Everard F. im Thurn, Among the Indians of Guiana (London, 1883).


ARBACES, according to Ctesias (Diodor. ii. 24 ff. 32), one of the generals of Sardanapalus, king of Assyria and founder of the Median empire about 830 B.C. But Ctesias’s whole history of the Assyrian and Median empires is absolutely fabulous; his Arbaces and his successors are not historical personages. From the inscriptions of Sargon of Assyria we know one “Arbaku Dynast of Arnashia” as one of forty-five chiefs of Median districts who paid tribute to Sargon in 713 B.C. See Media. (Ed. M.)

ARBACES, according to Ctesias (Diodor. ii. 24 ff. 32), was one of the generals of Sardanapalus, the king of Assyria and the founder of the Median empire around 830 BCE However, Ctesias’s entire account of the Assyrian and Median empires is completely fictional; his Arbaces and his successors are not real historical figures. From the inscriptions of Sargon of Assyria, we know of an “Arbaku Dynast of Arnashia” as one of forty-five leaders of Median districts who paid tribute to Sargon in 713 B.C.E. See Media. (Ed. M.)


ARBE (Serbo-Croatian Rab), an island in the Adriatic Sea, forming the northernmost point of Dalmatia, Austria. Pop. (1900) 4441. Arbe is 13 m. long; its greatest breadth is 5 m. The capital, which bears the same name, is a walled town, remarkable, even among the Dalmatian cities, for its beauty. It occupies a steep ridge jutting out from the west coast. At the seaward end of this promontory is the 13th-century cathedral; behind which the belfries of four churches, at least as ancient, rise in a row along the crest of the ridge; while behind these, again, are the castle and a background of desolate hills. Many of the houses are roofless and untenanted; 323 for, after five centuries of prosperity under Venetian or Hungarian rule, an outbreak of plague in 1456 swept away the majority of the townsfolk, and ruined the survivors. Some of the old palaces are, nevertheless, of considerable interest; one especially as the birthplace of the celebrated philosopher, Marc Antonio de Dominis. Fishing and agriculture constitute the chief resources of the islanders, whose ancient silk industry is still maintained. In 1018 the yearly tribute due to Venice was fixed at ten pounds of silk or five pounds of gold.

ARBE (Serbo-Croatian Rab), an island in the Adriatic Sea, is the northernmost point of Dalmatia, Austria. Population (1900) 4,441. Arbe is 13 km long, with its widest point being 5 km. The capital, which shares the same name, is a walled town that stands out for its beauty, even among Dalmatian cities. It sits on a steep ridge that juts out from the west coast. At the seaward edge of this promontory is the 13th-century cathedral; behind it, the bell towers of four equally ancient churches rise in a row along the ridge's crest, and further back are the castle and a backdrop of barren hills. Many houses are roofless and uninhabited; 323 after five centuries of prosperity under Venetian or Hungarian rule, a plague outbreak in 1456 wiped out most of the townsfolk and devastated the survivors. Some of the old palaces are still of significant interest, especially one that was the birthplace of the famous philosopher, Marc Antonio de Dominis. Fishing and agriculture are the main resources for the islanders, and their ancient silk industry is still in operation. In 1018, the annual tribute owed to Venice was set at ten pounds of silk or five pounds of gold.


ARBELA (Arba‘il, i.e. “Four-god-city”), an ancient town in Adiabene, the capital in Assyrian and pre-Assyrian times of the country between the greater and lesser Zab, and seat of an important cult of Ishtar. The battle in which Alexander overthrew Darius in 331 B.C., though named in the old books after Arbela, was probably fought at Gaugamela, some 60 m. away (Yorck von Wartenburg, Kurze Übersicht der Feldzüge A. des Gr.). The modern town of Erbil or Arbil, in the vilayet of Mosul, is about 40 m. from Mosul on the road to Bagdad. The greater part of the town, which seems at one time to have been very large, is situated on an artificial mound about 150 ft. high. It became the seat of the Ayyubite sultan Saladin in 1184; was bequeathed in 1233 to the caliphs of Bagdad; was plundered by the Mongols in 1236 and in 1393 by Timur, and was taken in 1732 by the Persians under Nadir Shah. In the 14th century the Christians were almost exterminated. The population, which varies from 2000 to 6000, is chiefly composed of Kurds.

ARBELA (Arba'il, i.e. “City of Four Gods”), an ancient town in Adiabene, which was the capital during Assyrian and pre-Assyrian times in the area between the Greater and Lesser Zab, and the center of an important Ishtar cult. The battle where Alexander defeated Darius in 331 B.C., although referred to as Arbela in historical texts, likely took place at Gaugamela, about 60 miles away (Yorck von Wartenburg, Kurze Übersicht der Feldzüge A. des Gr.). The modern town of Erbil or Arbil, located in the Mosul province, is around 40 miles from Mosul on the way to Baghdad. Most of the town, which appears to have once been quite large, is built on an artificial mound about 150 feet high. It became the seat of the Ayyubid Sultan Saladin in 1184; was passed down to the caliphs of Baghdad in 1233; was looted by the Mongols in 1236 and again in 1393 by Timur, and was taken by the Persians under Nadir Shah in 1732. In the 14th century, Christians were nearly wiped out. The population, which ranges from 2000 to 6000, is primarily made up of Kurds.

The ruins of another Arbela (Irbid, Beth-Arbel) in Palestine, situated near the west shore of the Sea of Galilee, a little north of its centre, are not in themselves of high interest, but the site is noteworthy through its connexion with the neighbouring caves in the lofty flank of the Wadi Hamam, above which Arbela stood. These caves (called by the Arabs Kulat ibn Ma‘an) are apparently natural, but were enlarged and fortified. They were used by the inhabitants of Arbela as a place of refuge from the army of Bacchides, general of Demetrius III., king of Syria, and were the resort of bandits in the reign of Herod the Great. He laid siege to them, and his men could only gain access to the caves by being let down from above. The caves were also fortified against the Romans by Josephus.

The ruins of another Arbela (Irbid, Beth-Arbel) in Palestine, located near the west shore of the Sea of Galilee, slightly north of its center, aren't particularly interesting on their own, but the site is significant because of its connection to the nearby caves on the steep side of the Wadi Hamam, above which Arbela stood. These caves (known by the Arabs as Kulat ibn Ma‘an) seem to be natural but were expanded and fortified. The people of Arbela used them as a refuge from Bacchides, a general of Demetrius III, the king of Syria, and they became a hideout for bandits during the reign of Herod the Great. He laid siege to them, and his soldiers could only access the caves by being lowered down from above. Josephus also fortified the caves against the Romans.


ARBER, EDWARD (1836-  ), English man of letters, was born in London on the 4th of December 1836. From 1854 to 1878 he was a clerk in the admiralty; from 1878 to 1881 lecturer on English, under Prof. H. Morley, at University College; and from 1881 to 1894 professor of English at Mason College, Birmingham. From 1894 he lived in London as emeritus professor, being also a fellow of King’s College. In 1905 he received the honorary degree of D. Litt. at Oxford. He married in 1869, and had two sons, one of them, E.A.N. Arber, becoming demonstrator in palaeobotany at Cambridge. As a scholarly editor Professor Arber’s services to English literature are memorable. His name is associated particularly with the series of “English Reprints” (1868-1880), by which an accurate text of the works of many English authors, formerly only accessible in rare or expensive editions, was placed within reach of the general public. Among the thirty volumes of the series were Gosson’s School of Abuse, Ascham’s Toxophilus, Tottel’s Miscellany, Naunton’s Fragmenta Regalia, &c. It was followed by the “English Scholar’s Library” (16 vols.) which included the Works (1884) of Captain John Smith, governor of Virginia, and the Poems (1882) of Richard Barnfield. In his English Garner (8 vols. 1877-1896) he made an admirable collection of rare old tracts and poems; in 1899-1901 he issued British Anthologies (10 vols.), and in 1907 began a series called A Christian Library. He also accomplished single-handed the editing of two vast, and invaluable, English bibliographies: A Transcript of the Registers of the Stationers’ Company, 1553-1640 (1875-1894), and The Term Catalogues, 1668-1709; with a number for Easter Term 1711 (1904-1906), edited from the quarterly lists of the booksellers.

ARBER, EDWARD (1836-  ), English writer, was born in London on December 4, 1836. From 1854 to 1878, he worked as a clerk in the admiralty; from 1878 to 1881, he was a lecturer in English under Prof. H. Morley at University College; and from 1881 to 1894, he served as a professor of English at Mason College, Birmingham. Starting in 1894, he lived in London as an emeritus professor and was also a fellow of King’s College. In 1905, he received an honorary D. Litt. degree from Oxford. He got married in 1869 and had two sons, one of whom, E.A.N. Arber, became a demonstrator in palaeobotany at Cambridge. As a scholarly editor, Professor Arber made significant contributions to English literature. He is particularly known for the "English Reprints" series (1868-1880), which provided accurate texts of works by many English authors that were previously only available in rare or expensive editions, making them accessible to the general public. Among the thirty volumes in the series were Gosson’s School of Abuse, Ascham’s Toxophilus, Tottel’s Miscellany, Naunton’s Fragmenta Regalia, etc. This was followed by the “English Scholar’s Library” (16 vols.), which included the Works (1884) of Captain John Smith, governor of Virginia, and the Poems (1882) of Richard Barnfield. In his English Garner (8 vols. 1877-1896), he compiled an excellent collection of rare old tracts and poems; from 1899 to 1901, he published British Anthologies (10 vols.), and began a series called A Christian Library in 1907. He also independently edited two extensive and invaluable English bibliographies: A Transcript of the Registers of the Stationers’ Company, 1553-1640 (1875-1894), and The Term Catalogues, 1668-1709; with a number for Easter Term 1711 (1904-1906), both edited from quarterly lists of the booksellers.


ARBITRAGE, the term applied to the system of equalizing prices in different commercial centres by buying in the cheaper market and selling in the dearer. These transactions, or their converse, are mainly confined to stocks and shares, foreign exchanges and bullion; and are for the most part carried on between London and other European capitals and largely with New York. When prices in London are affected by financial or political causes, all other markets are sooner or later influenced, as London is the banking and financial centre for the commerce of the world. It may, however, also occur that some local event of importance initiates a rise or fall in a particular market which must ultimately affect other countries. For instance, a crisis in France would immediately depress all French securities, and by exciting the fears of capitalists would stimulate transfers of funds and raise all the exchanges against France.

ARBITRAGE, is the practice of balancing prices across different commercial centers by buying in cheaper markets and selling in more expensive ones. These transactions, or the opposite, mainly happen with stocks, shares, foreign currencies, and gold; they primarily take place between London and other European cities, especially New York. When prices in London fluctuate due to financial or political factors, other markets eventually feel the impact since London is the global banking and financial hub. However, sometimes a significant local event can trigger a rise or fall in a specific market that eventually affects other countries. For example, a crisis in France would immediately lower the value of all French securities, and, by creating concerns among investors, it would lead to increased transfers of funds and raise all exchange rates against France.

In ordinary times those engaged in arbitrage operate with a very small margin of profit. The great improvement in postal, telegraphic and telephonic communication enables operators to close transactions with amazing rapidity, while competition reduces the margin of profit to a minimum. Operations in American stocks and shares are carried on between London and New York on a vast scale, while transactions in African mining shares are undertaken to a considerable extent between London and Paris. The frequent fluctuations in the prices of the latter securities offer a large and fruitful field to bold operators possessed of large resources, while those who have small means often succumb in a commercial crisis. As regards foreign exchange and bullion, arbitrage operators stand on a fairly safe foundation, the fluctuations being slight and involving little or no risk, although they yield a very small margin of profit. Arbitrage operations are for these reasons resorted to frequently by one country in supplying the requirements of another. The slightest advantage in any market is put to profit, and as the margin in ordinary exchange transactions is minute, the ability to operate in this cross fashion renders business possible, which would otherwise be impracticable. To give concrete instances of the working of arbitrage the following may be cited:—

In ordinary times, those involved in arbitrage work with a very small profit margin. The significant advancements in postal, telegraphic, and telephone communication allow operators to complete transactions incredibly quickly, while competition drives the profit margin down to a minimum. Trading in American stocks and shares happens extensively between London and New York, while transactions in African mining shares are also carried out significantly between London and Paris. The frequent price fluctuations of these securities provide a large and promising opportunity for bold operators with substantial resources, whereas those with limited means often fail during a commercial crisis. When it comes to foreign exchange and bullion, arbitrage operators have a relatively secure basis, as the fluctuations are minor and involve little to no risk, although they produce a very small profit margin. For these reasons, arbitrage operations are frequently used by one country to meet the needs of another. Even the slightest advantage in any market is capitalized on, and since the margin in normal exchange transactions is tiny, the ability to operate in this cross manner makes business possible that would otherwise be unviable. To provide concrete examples of how arbitrage works, the following may be cited:—

On the 21st of May 1906 the exchange on London in Vienna was telegraphed from that city 24 kronen 4¾ cents; London, requiring to purchase remittances, found that Antwerp had some Vienna to sell, and arranged to buy there. The transactions worked out as follows:—The direct exchange in Antwerp on London being 25.25½, and Antwerp’s selling price of Vienna being 105 francs for 100 kronen, on dividing 25.25½ by 105 an exchange of 24.05¼ was obtained or ½ cent cheaper than the direct exchange between Vienna and London.

On May 21, 1906, the exchange rate from Vienna to London was reported as 24 kronen 4¾ cents. London, needing to purchase remittances, discovered that Antwerp had some Vienna currency available for sale and decided to buy there. The transactions went as follows: The direct exchange rate in Antwerp for London was 25.25½, and Antwerp’s selling price for Vienna was 105 francs for 100 kronen. When dividing 25.25½ by 105, the exchange rate of 24.05¼ was obtained, which was ½ cent cheaper than the direct exchange rate between Vienna and London.

Again a portion of the proceeds of the Russian loan of 1906 had to be remitted to Berlin from Paris. Having exhausted local balances in Berlin, Paris on one side, and Berlin on the other, sought to prevent gold shipments from Berlin, and thus cause stringency in that money market. On the 21st of May 1906 Berlin was therefore seeking to sell Paris in London at 81.35 marks for 100 francs, and draw on London for the proceeds at 20.50. This transaction produced a parity between the exchanges of 25.20, which left a small margin in London.

Again, part of the money from the Russian loan of 1906 had to be sent from Paris to Berlin. Since local funds in Berlin were depleted, both Paris and Berlin tried to stop gold shipments from Berlin to create a tighter money situation there. On May 21, 1906, Berlin was trying to sell currency to Paris in London at 81.35 marks for 100 francs and plan to draw on London for the proceeds at 20.50. This deal created an exchange parity of 25.20, which left a small profit in London.

Two instances of arbitrage of stocks are the following:—On the 24th of March 1906, Japanese exchequer bonds, series 2 and 3, were bought in Tokio at 93¼ and were paid for by telegraphic transfer at 2438 pence per yen, and were sold in London the same day at 94 for payment on arrival of bonds. It took five weeks for the transmission of the bonds to London, where they were dealt in on the fixed basis of exchange, namely 24½ pence per yen. The London price works out thus:

Two examples of stock arbitrage are as follows: On March 24, 1906, Japanese government bonds, series 2 and 3, were purchased in Tokyo at 93¼ and were paid for via telegraphic transfer at 2438 pence per yen. They were sold in London on the same day at 94 for payment upon the arrival of the bonds. It took five weeks to transfer the bonds to London, where they were traded based on the fixed exchange rate of 24½ pence per yen. The London price is calculated as follows:

93.25 × 24.375 = 92.77,
24.50

to which must be added the loss of interest, as the firm in London paid cash on the 24th of March for the telegraphic transfer, and did not recover payment until the arrival of the bonds from Tokio five weeks later. The following is a computation of the transaction:—

to which must be added the loss of interest, as the firm in London paid cash on March 24th for the telegraphic transfer, and did not get the payment back until the bonds arrived from Tokyo five weeks later. The following is a calculation of the transaction:—

London price 92.77
Five weeks at 5% .45
English stamp ½% on nominal amount .50
Insurance 18% .12
  ———
  93.84

324

324

This sum represents the net cost to the arbitrage house in London, and the money paid on the 28th of April left a profit of about 316%. The bonds being “to bearer” insurance was necessary for the safety in this, as in all similar transactions.

This amount reflects the net expense for the arbitrage firm in London, and the payment made on April 28 resulted in a profit of about 316%. Since the bonds were “to bearer,” insurance was needed for protection in this and all similar transactions.

In the next example, however, this expense was unnecessary, the bonds being “inscribed.” On the 21st of May 1906 American Steel common shares were sold for cash in New York at 41316 dollars per share, and were bought in London at 42732 for the account day, May 31st. These figures are explained by the fact that transactions in the United States stocks and shares are on the fixed basis of five dollars per pound sterling, while as regards payments in New York the exchange varies daily. Railway shares are generally 100 dollars each. In the London market, however, five shares of 100 dollars would be £100 nominal. These shares, therefore, cost in London, at the purchase price of 42732, £42 : 4 : 5. The money realized in New York for five shares at 41316 was 205·93 dollars. A cheque on London was bought at 4 dollars 85¼ cents, realizing £42 : 8 : 9. It should be noted that the shares in these cases are generally lent by the New York correspondent, thus saving loss of interest. The resulting profit in this particular instance was 4s. 4d. for each five shares, divided between the London and New York arbitrage firms. Arbitrage operations with distant countries such as India are large and mainly profitable. Arbitrage with India consists chiefly in buying bills of exchange in London, such as India Council rupee bills amounting to about 16 millions sterling annually, and commercial bills drawn against goods exported to India. The counter-operation consists in purchasing in India, for short or long delivery, sterling bills drawn against exports to Great Britain of Indian produce, such as cotton, tea, indigo, jute and wheat. These operations greatly facilitate trade and the moving of produce from the interior of India to the seaports. Without this assistance Great Britain’s enormous trade could not be carried on, and she would have to revert to the primitive system of barter. The same advantages are afforded to her vast trade with China and Japan, with the material difference that the supply of government council bills is confined to the Indian trade. The balance of trade with all countries is generally settled by specie shipments; hence, with the Far East, silver and gold play an important part in arbitrage.

In the next example, however, this expense was unnecessary because the bonds were “inscribed.” On May 21, 1906, American Steel common shares were sold for cash in New York at $41316 per share, and were bought in London at $42732 for the account day, May 31. These numbers can be explained by the fact that transactions in U.S. stocks and shares are based on a fixed rate of five dollars per pound sterling, while payments in New York vary daily. Railway shares are generally $100 each. However, in the London market, five shares of $100 would be £100 nominal. Therefore, these shares cost in London, at the purchase price of $42732, £42 : 4 : 5. The money earned in New York for five shares at $41316 was $205.93. A check on London was bought at $4.85¼, realizing £42 : 8 : 9. It should be noted that the shares in these cases are generally lent by the New York correspondent, saving on the loss of interest. The resulting profit in this instance was 4s. 4d. for each five shares, shared between the London and New York arbitrage firms. Arbitrage operations with distant countries like India are large and mainly profitable. Arbitrage with India mainly involves buying bills of exchange in London, such as India Council rupee bills amounting to about £16 million annually, and commercial bills drawn against goods exported to India. The opposite operation consists of purchasing in India, for short or long delivery, sterling bills drawn against exports to Great Britain of Indian produce, such as cotton, tea, indigo, jute, and wheat. These operations greatly facilitate trade and the movement of produce from the interior of India to the seaports. Without this help, Great Britain’s enormous trade couldn't be conducted, and it would have to revert to a primitive barter system. The same advantages apply to its vast trade with China and Japan, with the key difference being that the supply of government council bills is limited to the Indian trade. The balance of trade with all countries is generally settled by sending specie; therefore, with the Far East, silver and gold play an important role in arbitrage.

It will thus be seen that arbitrage fills a useful place in commerce; the profits are small because the competition is great; nevertheless huge transactions employing thousands of clerks result from this system.

It’s clear that arbitrage plays an important role in commerce; the profits are small due to high competition; however, large transactions involving thousands of clerks arise from this system.

The literature of the subject is extremely meagre. Lord Goschen’s Theory of Foreign Exchanges (London, 1866) is general and theoretical, but throws great light upon particular aspects of the philosophy of arbitrage, without touching specially on the details of the subject itself. The principal other works are: Kelly’s Cambist (1811, 1835); Otto Swoboda, Die kaufmannische Arbitrage (Berlin, 1873), and Borse und Actien (Cologne, 1869); Coquelin et Guillaumin, Dictionnaire de l’économie politique (Paris, 1851-1853); Ottomar Haupt, London Arbitrageur (London, 1870); Charles le Touzé, Traité théorique et pratique du change (Paris, 1868); Tate, Modern Cambist (London, 1868); Simon Spitzer, Ueber Munz- und Arbiragenrechnung (Vienna, 1872); J.W. Gilbart, Principles and Practice of Banking (London, 1871); G. Clare, The A B C of Foreign Exchanges (2nd ed., 1895); Money Market Primer and Key to the Exchanges (2nd ed., 1900); J. Pallain, Les Changes étrangers et les prix (Paris, 1905). (Sw.)

The literature on the subject is really limited. Lord Goschen’s Theory of Foreign Exchanges (London, 1866) is broad and theoretical, but it provides significant insights into certain aspects of the philosophy of arbitrage, without specifically delving into the details of the subject. The main other works are: Kelly’s Cambist (1811, 1835); Otto Swoboda, Die kaufmannische Arbitrage (Berlin, 1873), and Borse und Actien (Cologne, 1869); Coquelin et Guillaumin, Dictionnaire de l’économie politique (Paris, 1851-1853); Ottomar Haupt, London Arbitrageur (London, 1870); Charles le Touzé, Traité théorique et pratique du change (Paris, 1868); Tate, Modern Cambist (London, 1868); Simon Spitzer, Ueber Munz- und Arbiragenrechnung (Vienna, 1872); J.W. Gilbart, Principles and Practice of Banking (London, 1871); G. Clare, The A B C of Foreign Exchanges (2nd ed., 1895); Money Market Primer and Key to the Exchanges (2nd ed., 1900); J. Pallain, Les Changes étrangers et les prix (Paris, 1905). (Sw.)


ARBITRATION (Lat. arbitrari, to examine or judge), a term derived from the nomenclature of Roman law, and applied to an arrangement for taking, and abiding by, the judgment of a selected person in some disputed matter, instead of carrying it to the established courts of justice. In disputes between states, arbitration has long played an important part (see Arbitration, International). The present article is restricted to arbitration under municipal law; but a separate article is also devoted to the use of arbitration in labour disputes (see Arbitration and Conciliation).

ARBITRATION (Lat. arbitrari, to examine or judge), a term that comes from Roman law, refers to an arrangement where a chosen individual makes a decision on a disagreement, instead of taking it to formal courts. In conflicts between countries, arbitration has been significant for a long time (see Arbitration, International). This article focuses on arbitration within municipal law; however, there is a separate article dedicated to arbitration in labor disputes (see Arbitration and Conciliation).

Roman Law.—Arrangements for avoiding the delay and expense of litigation, and referring a dispute to friends or neutral persons, are a natural practice, of which traces may be found in any state of society; but it is from Roman Law that we derive arbitration as a system which has found its way into the practice of European nations in general, and has even evaded the dislike of the English common lawyers to the civil law. The praetor, who had the arrangement of all trials or private suits and the formal appointment of judges for them, referred the great majority of such cases for decision to a judge who was styled usually judex but sometimes arbiter. The phrase judex arbiterve frequently occurs. The judex and the arbiter had the same functions, and apparently the only express basis for the distinction between the two words is that there might be several arbitri but never more than one judex in a cause. The term arbiter seems, however, to have been sometimes used when the referee had a certain degree of latitude, and was entitled to give weight to equitable considerations (Roby, Inst. Rom. Law, i. 318; Hunter, Roman Law (1897), p. 48; and see Cicero pro Rosc. Com. 4, ss. 10-13; Gaius, Inst. iv. s. 163). Apart from this system of compulsory reference by the praetor, Roman law recognized a voluntary reference (compromissum) to an arbiter or arbitrator by the parties themselves. The arbitrator ex compromisso sumptus had no coercive jurisdiction, and in order to make his award effective, the agreement of reference was confirmed by a stipulation and usually provided a penalty (poena, pecunia compromissa) in case of disobedience. The sum agreed on by way of penalty might be either specific or unliquidated, e.g. “whatever the matter may be worth” (Dig. iv., tit. 8, s. 28). The arbitrator ex compromisso sumptus, like the judicial arbiter, was expected to take account of equitable considerations in coming to a decision. If three arbitrators were appointed, a majority could decide; in case of two being appointed and not agreeing, the praetor would compel them to choose a third (Roby, ubi sup., i. 320, 321; Dig. iv., tit. 8, s. 17). As in English law, it was necessary that the award should cover all the points submitted (Dig. iv., tit. 8, s. 21).

Roman Law.—Finding ways to avoid the delays and costs of litigation by turning to friends or neutral individuals for resolving disputes is a common practice that can be seen in any society. However, arbitration as a formal system originates from Roman Law, and it has been adopted widely by European nations, even managing to sidestep the English common lawyers' aversion to civil law. The praetor, who organized all trials or private cases and formally appointed judges for them, referred most of these cases to a judge typically called judex but sometimes arbiter. The term judex arbiterve often appears. Both the judex and the arbiter had the same responsibilities, and the main difference between the two terms seems to be that multiple arbitri could exist for a case, whereas there could only be one judex. The term arbiter was sometimes used when the referee had some flexibility and could consider equitable factors (Roby, Inst. Rom. Law, i. 318; Hunter, Roman Law (1897), p. 48; and see Cicero pro Rosc. Com. 4, ss. 10-13; Gaius, Inst. iv. s. 163). Besides the compulsory reference by the praetor, Roman law also acknowledged voluntary reference (compromissum) to an arbiter or arbitrator chosen by the parties involved. The arbitrator ex compromisso sumptus had no power to enforce decisions, so for his award to be effective, the reference agreement was confirmed by a stipulation that typically included a penalty (poena, pecunia compromissa) for noncompliance. The penalty amount could be specific or unliquidated, such as “whatever the matter may be worth” (Dig. iv., tit. 8, s. 28). The arbitrator ex compromisso sumptus, like the judicial arbiter, was expected to consider equitable aspects in making a decision. If three arbitrators were appointed, a majority could make a decision; if only two were appointed and they disagreed, the praetor would mandate the selection of a third (Roby, ubi sup., i. 320, 321; Dig. iv., tit. 8, s. 17). Similar to English law, it was necessary for the award to address all the submitted points (Dig. iv., tit. 8, s. 21).

Law of England.—The law of England as to arbitration is now practically summed up in the Arbitration Act of 1889. This statute is an express code as to proceedings in all arbitration, but “criminal proceedings by the crown” cannot be referred under it (ss. 13, 14). The statute subdivides its subject-matter into two headings. I. References by consent out of court; II. References under order of court.

Law of England.—The law of England regarding arbitration is now essentially outlined in the Arbitration Act of 1889. This statute serves as a clear code for all arbitration proceedings, but “criminal proceedings by the crown” cannot be referred to it (ss. 13, 14). The statute breaks down its subject into two categories: I. References by consent outside of court; II. References ordered by the court.

(1) Here the first matter to be dealt with is the submission. A submission is defined as a written agreement (it need not be signed by both parties) to submit present or future differences to arbitration, whether a particular arbitrator is References by consent of the court. named in it or not. The capacity of a person to agree to arbitration, or to act as arbitrator, depends on the general law of contract. A submission by an infant is not void, but is voidable at his option (see Infant). A counsel has a general authority to deal with the conduct of an action, which includes authority to refer it to arbitration, but he has no authority to refer an action against the wishes of his client, or on terms different from those which his client has sanctioned; and if he does so, the reference may be set aside, although the limit put by the client on his counsel’s authority is not made known to the other side when the reference is agreed upon (Neale v. Gordon Lennox, 1902, A.C. 465). The committee of a lunatic, with the sanction of the judge in lunacy, may refer disputes to arbitration. As an arbitrator is chosen by the parties themselves the question of his eligibility is of comparatively minor importance; and where an arbitrator has been chosen by both parties, the courts are reluctant to set the appointment aside. This question has arisen chiefly in contracts, for works, which frequently contain a provision that the engineer shall be the arbitrator, in any dispute between the contractor and his own employer. The practical result is to make the engineer judge in his own cause. But the courts will not in such cases prevent the engineer from acting, where the contractor was aware of the facts when he signed the contract, and there is no reason to believe that the engineer will be unfair (Ives and Barker v. Willans, 1894, 2 Ch. 478). Even the fact that he has expressed an opinion on matters in dispute will not of itself disqualify him (Halliday v. Hamilton’s Trustees, 1903, 5 Fraser, 800). So, too, where a barrister was appointed arbitrator, the 325 court refused to stop the arbitration on the mere ground that he was the client of a firm of solicitors, the conduct of one of whom was in question (Bright v. River Plate Construction Co., 1900, 2 Ch. 835).

(1) The first topic to cover is the submission. A submission is a written agreement (it doesn't have to be signed by both parties) where present or future disputes are agreed to be settled by arbitration, whether or not a specific arbitrator is named. The ability of a person to agree to arbitration, or to act as an arbitrator, is based on general contract law. A submission made by a minor isn't void, but it can be canceled at their discretion (see Infant). A lawyer generally has the authority to handle the conduct of a case, which includes the power to refer it to arbitration, but they cannot refer a case against their client’s wishes or on different terms than what their client approved; if they do, the reference can be overturned, even if the client’s limits on the lawyer’s authority are not communicated to the other party when the reference is made (Neale v. Gordon Lennox, 1902, A.C. 465). A committee for someone who is mentally incapacitated, with the approval of the judge overseeing such cases, can send disputes to arbitration. Because an arbitrator is selected by the parties themselves, their eligibility is usually not a major issue; when both parties have chosen an arbitrator, courts are hesitant to overturn that choice. This issue often comes up in contracts for work, which usually state that the engineer will be the arbitrator for any disputes between the contractor and their employer. This effectively puts the engineer in a position of judging their own case. However, the courts will not stop the engineer from acting in cases where the contractor was aware of the situation when they signed the contract and there's no reason to think the engineer will be biased (Ives and Barker v. Willans, 1894, 2 Ch. 478). Even if the engineer has already shared an opinion on the disputed matters, it won't automatically disqualify them (Halliday v. Hamilton’s Trustees, 1903, 5 Fraser, 800). Similarly, when a barrister was appointed as arbitrator, the 325 court refused to halt the arbitration just because they were a client of a law firm involved in the case (Bright v. River Plate Construction Co., 1900, 2 Ch. 835).

Under the law prior to the act of 1889 (a) an agreement to refer disputes generally, without naming the arbitrators, was always irrevocable, and an action lay for the breach of it, although the court could not compel either of the parties to proceed under it; (b) an agreement to refer to a particular arbitrator was revocable, and if one of the parties revoked that particular arbitrator’s authority he could not be compelled to submit to it; (c) when, however, the parties had got their tribunal fixed, and were proceeding to carry out the agreement to refer, the act 9 and 10 Will. III. c. 15 provided that the submission might be made a rule of court, a provision which gave the court power to assist the parties in the trial of the case, and to enforce the award of the arbitrators; (d) the statute 3 and 4 Will. IV. c. 42 (s. 39) put an end to the power to revoke the authority of a particular arbitrator after the reference to him had been made a rule of court; and—a liability which existed also under the act of 9 and 10 Will. III. c. 15—any person revoking the appointment of an arbitrator after the submission had been made a rule of court might be attached. The Arbitration Act 1889 provides that a submission, unless a contrary intention is expressed in it, is irrevocable except by leave of the court or a judge, and is to have the same effect in all respects as if it had been made an order of court. The object of this enactment was to save the expense of making a submission a rule of court by treating it as having been so made, and it leaves the law in this position, that while the authority of an arbitrator, once appointed, is irrevocable, there is no power—any more than there was under the old law—to compel an unwilling party to proceed to a reference, except in cases specially provided for by sections 5 and 6 of the act of 1889. The former of these sections deals with the power of the court, the latter with the power of the parties to a reference, to appoint an arbitrator in certain circumstances. Section 5 provides that where a reference is to be to a single arbitrator, and all the parties do not concur in appointing one, or an appointed arbitrator refuses to act or becomes incapable of acting, or where the parties or two arbitrators fail, when necessary, to appoint an umpire or third arbitrator, or such umpire or arbitrator when appointed refuses to act, or becomes incapable of acting, and the default is not rectified after seven clear days’ notice, the court may supply the vacancy. Under section 6, where a reference is to two arbitrators, one to be appointed by each party, and either the appointed arbitrator refuses to act, or becomes incapable of acting, and the party appointing him fails, after seven clear days’ notice, to supply the vacancy, or such party fails, after similar notice, to make an original appointment, a binding appointment (subject to the power of the court to set it aside) may be made by the other party to the reference. The court may compel parties to carry out an arbitration, not only in the above cases by directly appointing an arbitrator, &c., or by allowing one appointed by a party to proceed alone with the reference, but also indirectly by staying any proceedings before the legal tribunals to determine matters which come within the scope of the arbitration. Where the agreement to refer stipulates that the submission of a dispute to arbitration shall be a condition precedent to the right to bring an action in regard to it, an action does not lie until the arbitration has been held and an award made, and it is usual in such cases not to apply for a stay of proceedings, but to plead the agreement as a bar to the action (Viney v. Bignold, 1887, 20 Q.B.D. 172). The court will refuse to stay proceedings where the subject-matter of the litigation falls outside the scope of the reference, or there is some serious objection to the fitness of the arbitrator, or some other good reason of the kind exists.

Under the law before the 1889 act, (a) an agreement to refer disputes generally, without naming the arbitrators, was always irrevocable, and a legal action could be taken for breaching it, even though the court couldn’t force either party to proceed with it; (b) an agreement to refer to a specific arbitrator could be revoked, and if one party revoked that arbitrator’s authority, they could not be forced to submit to it; (c) however, once the parties established their tribunal and began to carry out the agreement to refer, the act 9 and 10 Will. III. c. 15 allowed the submission to be made a court rule. This provision empowered the court to assist in the trial and enforce the arbitrators' decisions; (d) the statute 3 and 4 Will. IV. c. 42 (s. 39) ended the ability to revoke the authority of a specific arbitrator after the reference had been made a rule of court; and—similar to the earlier act—anyone revoking the appointment of an arbitrator after the submission became a rule of court could be held in contempt. The Arbitration Act 1889 states that a submission, unless stated otherwise, is irrevocable except with the permission of the court or a judge and has the same effect as if it were an official court order. The aim of this law was to save the costs of formally making a submission a court rule by treating it as if it had been done. It maintains that while the authority of an arbitrator, once appointed, is irrevocable, there is still no power—just like under the old law—to force an unwilling party to proceed with a reference, except in cases specifically outlined in sections 5 and 6 of the 1889 act. Section 5 covers the court’s power, while section 6 addresses the parties’ power to appoint an arbitrator in specific situations. Section 5 states that if a reference is to a single arbitrator and not all parties agree on one, or if the appointed arbitrator declines or becomes unable to act, or if the parties or two arbitrators fail to appoint an umpire or third arbitrator when necessary and the issue isn’t resolved within seven clear days’ notice, the court may fill the vacancy. Section 6 notes that if a reference is to two arbitrators, one appointed by each party, and either appointed arbitrator declines or is unable to act, and the party who appointed them fails, within seven clear days’ notice, to fill the vacancy, or does not make an original appointment, the other party may make a binding appointment (subject to the court’s power to overturn it). The court can compel parties to follow through with arbitration, not only in the cases mentioned above by directly appointing an arbitrator, etc., or by letting one appointed by a party proceed alone with the reference, but also indirectly by halting any legal actions that would address issues covered by the arbitration. When the referral agreement requires that submitting a dispute to arbitration is a condition before taking legal action, an action cannot be filed until the arbitration is completed and an award is made. In these instances, it’s typical not to ask for a stay of proceedings but to cite the agreement as a reason to dismiss the action (Viney v. Bignold, 1887, 20 Q.B.D. 172). The court will reject requests to stay proceedings if the litigation’s subject is outside the arbitration’s scope, if there are serious concerns regarding the arbitrator's appropriateness, or if any other valid reason exists.

An arbitrator is not liable to be sued for want of skill or for negligence in conducting the arbitration (Pappa v. Rose, 1872, L.R. 7 C.P. 525). When a building contract provides that a certificate of the architect, showing the final balance due to the contractor, shall be conclusive evidence of the works having been duly completed, the architect occupies the position of an arbitrator, and enjoys the same immunity from liability for negligence in the discharge of his functions (Chambers v. Goldthorpe, 1901, 1 Q.B. 624). An arbitrator cannot be compelled to act unless he is a party to the submission.

An arbitrator cannot be sued for lack of skill or for negligence while conducting arbitration (Pappa v. Rose, 1872, L.R. 7 C.P. 525). When a building contract states that a certificate from the architect, which indicates the final amount owed to the contractor, is considered conclusive evidence that the work has been properly completed, the architect takes on the role of an arbitrator and has the same protection from liability for negligence in performing his duties (Chambers v. Goldthorpe, 1901, 1 Q.B. 624). An arbitrator cannot be forced to act unless he is part of the submission.

An arbitrator (and the following observations apply mutatis mutandis to an umpire after he has entered on his duties) has power to administer oaths to, or take the affirmations of, the parties and their witnesses; and any person who wilfully and corruptly gives false evidence before him may be prosecuted and punished for perjury (Arbitration Act 1889, sched. i. and s. 22). At any stage in the reference he may, and shall if he be required by the court, state in the form of a special case for the opinion of the court any question of law arising in the arbitration. The arbitrator may also state his award in whole or in part as a special case (ib. s. 19), and may correct in an award any clerical mistake or error arising from an accidental slip or omission. The costs of the reference and the award—which, under sched. i. of the act, must be in writing, unless the submission otherwise provides—are in the arbitrator’s discretion, and he has a lien on the award and the submission for his fees, for which—if there is an express or implied promise to pay them—he can also sue (Crampton v. Ridley, 1887, 20 Q.B.D. 48). An arbitrator or umpire ought not, however, to state his award in such a way as to deprive the parties of their right to challenge the amount charged by him for his services; and accordingly where an umpire fixed for his award a lump sum as costs, including therein his own and the arbitrators’ fees, the award was remitted back to him to state how much he allotted to himself and how much to the arbitrators (in Re Gilbert v. Wright, 1904, 20 Times L.R. 164). But in the absence of evidence to show that the fees charged by arbitrators or umpire are extortionate, or unfair and unreasonable, the courts will not interfere with them (Llandrindod Wells Water Co. v. Hawksley, 1904, 20 Times L.R. 241).

An arbitrator (and the following observations apply mutatis mutandis to an umpire once he starts his duties) has the authority to administer oaths to, or accept affirmations from, the parties and their witnesses; and anyone who willfully and corruptly provides false evidence in front of him can be prosecuted and punished for perjury (Arbitration Act 1889, sched. i. and s. 22). At any point during the reference, he may, and must if required by the court, present in the form of a special case any legal question that arises in the arbitration for the court’s opinion. The arbitrator can also express his award in full or in part as a special case (ib. s. 19), and may correct any clerical mistakes or errors resulting from an accidental slip or omission in the award. The costs associated with the reference and the award—which, according to sched. i. of the act, must be in writing unless the submission states otherwise—are at the arbitrator’s discretion, and he has a lien on the award and the submission for his fees, for which he can also sue if there is a clear or implied agreement to pay them (Crampton v. Ridley, 1887, 20 Q.B.D. 48). However, an arbitrator or umpire should not present his award in a way that prevents the parties from challenging the amount he charges for his services; thus, when an umpire set a flat fee for his award that included both his own and the arbitrators’ fees, the award was sent back to him to specify how much he allocated to himself and how much to the arbitrators (in Re Gilbert v. Wright, 1904, 20 Times L.R. 164). But in the absence of evidence showing that the fees set by arbitrators or umpire are excessive, unfair, or unreasonable, the courts will not interfere with them (Llandrindod Wells Water Co. v. Hawksley, 1904, 20 Times L.R. 241).

If there is no express provision on the point in the submission, an award under the Arbitration Act 1889 must be made within three months after the arbitrator has entered on the reference, or been called upon to act by notice in writing from any party to the submission. The time may, however, be extended by the arbitrator or by the court. An umpire is required to make his award within one month after the original or extended time appointed for making the award of the arbitrators has expired, or any later day to which he may enlarge it. The court may by order remit an award to the arbitrators or umpire for reconsideration, in which case the reconsidered award must be made within three months after the date of the order.

If there's no specific provision in the agreement, an award under the Arbitration Act 1889 must be issued within three months after the arbitrator has started the process or has been asked to act by written notice from any party involved. However, the arbitrator or the court can extend this time. An umpire must make their award within one month after the original or extended deadline for the arbitrators' award has passed, or at any later date to which they may extend it. The court can order that an award be sent back to the arbitrators or umpire for reconsideration, and in that case, the revised award must be issued within three months after the order date.

An award must be intra vires: it must dispose of all the points referred; and it must be final, except as regards certain matters of valuation, &c. (see in Re Stringer and Riley Brothers, 1901, 1 K.B. 105). An award may, however, be set aside where the arbitrator has misconducted himself (an arbitrator may also be removed by the court on the ground of misconduct), or where it is ultra vires, or lacks any of the other requisites—above mentioned—of a valid award, or where the arbitrator has been wilfully deceived by one of the parties, or some such state of things exists. An award may, by leave of the court, be enforced in the same manner as a judgment or decree to the same effect. Under the Revenue Act 1906, s. 9, a uniform duty of ten shillings is payable on awards in England or Ireland, and on decreets arbitral in Scotland.

An award must be intra vires: it has to address all the issues raised, and it must be final, except for certain valuation matters, etc. (see in Re Stringer and Riley Brothers, 1901, 1 K.B. 105). However, an award can be set aside if the arbitrator has behaved improperly (the court can also remove an arbitrator for misconduct), or if it is ultra vires, or lacks any other requirements mentioned above for a valid award, or if the arbitrator has been deliberately misled by one of the parties, or similar circumstances exist. An award may be enforced by permission of the court in the same way as a judgment or decree of the same kind. According to the Revenue Act 1906, s. 9, a flat duty of ten shillings is payable on awards in England or Ireland, and on arbitration decrees in Scotland.

Provisions for the arbitration of special classes of disputes are contained in many acts of parliament, e.g. the Local Government Acts 1888, 1894, the Agricultural Holdings (England) Acts 1883 to 1906, the Small Holdings and Allotments Act 1907, the Light Railways Act 1896, the Housing of the Working Classes Act 1890, the Workmen’s Compensation Act 1906, &c.

Provisions for resolving specific types of disputes are included in various acts of parliament, such as the Local Government Acts of 1888 and 1894, the Agricultural Holdings (England) Acts from 1883 to 1906, the Small Holdings and Allotments Act of 1907, the Light Railways Act of 1896, the Housing of the Working Classes Act of 1890, the Workmen’s Compensation Act of 1906, etc.

The Conciliation Act 1896 provides machinery for the prevention and settlement of trade disputes, and in 1892 a chamber of arbitration for business disputes was established by the joint action of the corporation of the city of London and the London chamber of commerce. At the time when the London chamber of arbitration 326 was established, there was considerable dissatisfaction among the mercantile community with the delays that occurred in the disposal of commercial cases before the ordinary tribunals. But the special provision made by the judges in 1895 for the prompt trial of commercial causes to a large extent destroyed the raison d’être of the chamber of arbitration, and it did not attain any great measure of success.

The Conciliation Act of 1896 sets up a system for preventing and resolving trade disputes. In 1892, a chamber of arbitration for business disputes was created through the joint efforts of the City of London Corporation and the London Chamber of Commerce. When the London Chamber of Arbitration was founded, many in the business community were unhappy with the slow handling of commercial cases in regular courts. However, the judges' special provision in 1895 for quickly resolving commercial cases largely eliminated the need for the chamber of arbitration, and it didn't achieve significant success.

(2) The court or a judge may refer any question arising in any cause or matter to an official or special referee, whose report may be enforced like a judgment or order to the same effect. This power may be exercised whether References under order of court. the parties desire it or not. The official referees are salaried officers of court. The remuneration of special referees is determined by the court or judge. An entire action may be referred, if all parties consent, or if it involves any prolonged examination of documents, or scientific or local examination, or consists wholly or partly of matters of account.

(2) The court or a judge can refer any question that comes up in a case to an official or special referee, whose report can be enforced like a judgment or order with the same effect. This power can be used whether the parties agree to it or not. The official referees are paid court officers. The pay for special referees is set by the court or judge. An entire case can be referred if all parties agree, or if it involves a long review of documents, or scientific or local examination, or if it is wholly or partly about financial matters.

Scots Law.—The Arbitration (Scotland) Act 1894, unlike the English Arbitration Act 1889, did not codify the previously existing law, and it becomes necessary, therefore, to deal with that law in some detail. It differs in important particulars from the law of England. Although (as in England apart from the Arbitration Act 1889) there is nothing to prevent a verbal reference, submissions are generally not merely written but are effected by deed. The deed of submission first defines the terms of the reference, the name or names of the arbiters or arbitrators, and the “oversman” or umpire, whose decision in the event of the arbiters differing in opinion is to be final. Formerly, where no oversman was named in the submission, and no power given to the arbiters to name one, the proceedings were abortive if the arbiters disagreed, unless the parties consented to a nomination. But under the Arbitration (Scotland) Act 1894, s. 4, here arbiters differ in opinion, they, or, if they fail to agree on the point, the court, on the application of either party, may nominate an oversman whose decision is to be final. The deed of submission next gives to the arbiters the necessary powers for disposing of the matters referred (e.g. powers to summon witnesses, to administer oaths and to award expenses), and specifies the time within which the “decreet arbitral” is to be pronounced. If this date is left blank, practice has limited the arbiter’s power of deciding to a year and a day, unless, having express or clearly implied power in the submission, he exercises this power, or the parties expressly or tacitly agree to its prorogation. The deed of submission then goes on to provide that the parties bind themselves, under a stipulated penalty to abide by the decreet arbitral, that, in the event of the death of either of them, the submission shall continue in force against their heirs and representatives, and that they consent to the registration, for preservation and execution, both of the deed itself and of the decreet arbitral. The power to enforce the award depends on this last provision. Under the common law of Scotland, a submission of future disputes or differences to an arbiter, or arbiters, unnamed, was ineffectual except where the agreement to refer did not contemplate the decision of proper disputes between the parties but the adjustment of some condition, or the liquidation of some obligation, contained in the contract of which the agreement to submit formed a part. And by the Arbitration (Scotland) Act 1894, s. 1, an agreement to refer to arbitration is not invalid by reason of the reference being to a person not named, or to be named by another, or to a person merely described as the holder for the time being of any office or appointment. An arbiter who has accepted office may be compelled by an action in court of session to proceed with his duty unless he has sufficient cause, such as ill-health or supervening interest, for renouncing. The court may name a sole arbiter, where provision is made for one only and the parties cannot agree (Arbitration [Scotland] Act 1894, s. 2); and may name an arbiter where a party having the right or duty to nominate one of two arbiters will not exercise it (ib. s. 3). Scots law as to the requisites of a valid award is practically identical with the law of England. The grounds of reduction of a decreet arbitral are “corruption,” “bribery,” “false hold” (Scots Act of Regulations 1695, s. 25). An attempt was made to include, under the expression “constructive corruption,” among these statutory grounds of reduction, irregular conduct on the part of an arbitrator, with no suggestion of any corrupt motive. But it was definitely overruled by the House of Lords (Adams v. Great North of Scotland Railway Co., 1891, A.C. 31). The statutory definition of the grounds of reduction was intended, however, merely to put an end to the practice which had previously obtained of reviewing awards on their merits, and it does not prevent the courts from setting aside an award where the arbitrator has exceeded his jurisdiction, or disregarded any one of the expressed conditions of the submission, or been guilty of misconduct. A private arbiter cannot demand remuneration except in virtue of contract, or by implication from the nature of the work done, or if the reference is in pursuance of some statutory enactment (e.g. the Lands Clauses [Scotland] Act 1845, s. 32).

Scots Law.—The Arbitration (Scotland) Act 1894, unlike the English Arbitration Act 1889, did not compile the existing law, so it’s necessary to discuss that law in some detail. It varies significantly from the law in England. While there’s nothing to prevent a verbal reference (as is the case in England outside the Arbitration Act 1889), submissions are typically recorded in writing and are formalized by a deed. The deed of submission first outlines the terms of the reference, the names of the arbitrators, and the “oversman” or umpire, whose decision will be final if the arbitrators disagree. In the past, if no oversman was named and the arbitrators didn’t have the authority to appoint one, the proceedings would end in failure if the arbitrators were at odds, unless both parties agreed to appoint one. However, under the Arbitration (Scotland) Act 1894, s. 4, if the arbitrators cannot agree, they or the court (at the request of either party) can appoint an oversman whose decision is final. The deed of submission then grants the arbitrators the necessary powers to handle the matters they’re asked to resolve (for example, the authority to summon witnesses, administer oaths, and award expenses), and it specifies the timeframe within which the “decreet arbitral” must be issued. If this date is left empty, practice restricts the arbitrator’s decision-making power to a year and a day, unless he uses his powers expressly given in the submission, or both parties agree to extend it. The deed of submission also states that the parties commit, under a specified penalty, to abide by the decreet arbitral, that if either party dies, the submission remains effective against their heirs and representatives, and that they agree to the registration, for preservation and enforcement, of both the deed and the decreet arbitral. The ability to enforce the award relies on this last condition. According to Scottish common law, a submission of future disputes to unnamed arbitrators was ineffective unless the agreement to refer was about adjusting a condition or liquidating an obligation within the contract that included the submission agreement. Furthermore, under the Arbitration (Scotland) Act 1894, s. 1, a reference to arbitration is valid even if the person is unnamed, assigned by another, or described only as the current holder of a specific office or position. An arbiter who has accepted their role can be compelled by a court of session to fulfill their duty unless they have valid reasons, such as illness or a conflicting interest, for stepping down. The court can appoint a sole arbiter when only one is specified and the parties cannot agree (Arbitration [Scotland] Act 1894, s. 2) and can appoint an arbiter when a party that has the right to nominate one of two arbiters fails to do so (ib. s. 3). The requirements for a valid award under Scots law are nearly identical to those in England. The grounds for overturning a decreet arbitral include “corruption,” “bribery,” and “false hold” (Scots Act of Regulations 1695, s. 25). There was an attempt to incorporate “constructive corruption” into these statutory grounds for nullification, which included any irregular behavior by an arbitrator without implying any corrupt intent. However, the House of Lords definitely rejected this (Adams v. Great North of Scotland Railway Co., 1891, A.C. 31). The statutory definition for grounds of nullification was meant to eliminate the earlier practice of evaluating awards on their merits, but it doesn’t stop the courts from invalidating an award if the arbitrator exceeded their authority, ignored any specific conditions of the submission, or engaged in misconduct. A private arbiter can only seek payment based on a contract, by implication from the nature of the work performed, or if the reference follows a statutory enactment (for example, the Lands Clauses [Scotland] Act 1845, s. 32).

Judicial References have been long known to the law of Scotland. When an action is in court the parties may at any stage withdraw it from judicial determination, and refer it to arbitration. This is done by minute of reference to which the court interpones its authority. When the award is issued it becomes the judgment of the court. The court has no power to compel parties to enter into a reference of this kind, and it is doubtful whether counsel can bind their clients in such a matter. A judicial reference falls like the other by the elapse of a year; and the court cannot review the award on the ground of miscarriage. By the Court of Session Act 1850, s. 50, a provision is introduced whereby parties to an action in the supreme court may refer judicially any issue for trial to one, three, five or seven persons, who shall sit as a jury, and decide by a majority.

Judicial References have long been recognized in Scottish law. When a case is in court, the parties can withdraw it from judicial proceedings at any time and send it to arbitration. This is done through a minute of reference, which the court endorses. When the decision is made, it becomes the court's judgment. The court cannot force parties to accept this type of reference, and it's unclear whether lawyers can bind their clients in these cases. A judicial reference expires after a year, and the court cannot review the decision on the basis of an error. Under the Court of Session Act 1850, s. 50, there is a provision that allows parties in the supreme court to officially refer any issue for trial to one, three, five, or seven people who will act as a jury and decide by majority vote.

Law of Ireland.—The Common Law Procedure Act (Ireland) 1856, which is incorporated by s. 60 of the Supreme Court of Judicature Act (Ireland) 1877, and thereby made applicable to all divisions of the High Court of Justice, provides, on the lines of the English Common Law Procedure Act 1854, for the conduct of arbitrations and the enforcement of awards. Irish statute law, like that of England and Scotland, contains numerous provisions for arbitration under special enactments.

Law of Ireland.—The Common Law Procedure Act (Ireland) 1856, which is included by section 60 of the Supreme Court of Judicature Act (Ireland) 1877, and thus applied to all divisions of the High Court of Justice, outlines the process for conducting arbitrations and enforcing awards, similar to the English Common Law Procedure Act 1854. Irish statute law, like that of England and Scotland, has many provisions for arbitration under specific laws.

Indian and Colonial Law.—The provisions of the English Arbitration Act 1889 have in substance been adopted by the Indian Legislature (see Act ix. of 1899), and by many of the colonies (see, e.g., Act No. 13 of 1895, Western Australia; No. 24 of 1898, Natal; c. 20 of 1899, Bahamas; No. 10 of 1895, Gibraltar; No. 29 of 1898, Cape of Good Hope: s. 7 of this last statute excludes from submission to arbitration criminal cases, so far as prosecution and punishment are concerned, and, without the special leave of the court, matters relating to status, matrimonial causes, and matters affecting minors or other perons under legal disability; Trinidad and Tobago, No. 35 of 1898).

Indian and Colonial Law.—The basic provisions of the English Arbitration Act of 1889 have essentially been adopted by the Indian Legislature (see Act ix. of 1899) and by many colonies (see, e.g., Act No. 13 of 1895, Western Australia; No. 24 of 1898, Natal; c. 20 of 1899, Bahamas; No. 10 of 1895, Gibraltar; No. 29 of 1898, Cape of Good Hope: s. 7 of this last statute excludes criminal cases from arbitration in terms of prosecution and punishment, and, without special permission from the court, issues related to status, matrimonial disputes, and matters concerning minors or others under legal disability; Trinidad and Tobago, No. 35 of 1898).

United States.—The common law and statute law of the United States as to arbitration bear a general resemblance to the law of England.

United States.—The common law and statutory law regarding arbitration in the United States are generally similar to the law in England.

All controversies of a civil nature, and any question of personal injury on which a suit for damages will lie, although it may also be indictable, may be referred to arbitration; but crimes, and perhaps actions on penal statutes by Voluntary submissions. common informers may not. The submission may be effected sometimes by parol, sometimes by written instrument, sometimes by deed or deed poll. Capacity to refer depends on the general law of contractual capacity. The law of England as to the capacity to act as an arbitrator and as to objections to an arbitrator on the ground of interest has been closely followed by the American courts. The same observation applies as to the requisites of an award, the mode of its enforcement and the grounds on which it will be set aside. The arbitrator has a lien on the award for his fees; and—a point of difference from the English law—he may sue for them without an express promise to pay (cf. Goodall v. Cooley, 1854, 29 New Hamp. 48). At common law, a submission is generally revocable at any time before award; and it is also, in the absence of stipulation to the contrary, revoked by the death of one of the parties. Provision has been made in Pennsylvania for compulsory arbitration by an act of the 16th of June 1836 (see Pepper and Lewis, Pennsylvania Digest, tit. “arbitration”).

All disputes of a civil nature, and any issues of personal injury where a lawsuit for damages can be filed, even if they could also be criminal, can be sent to arbitration; however, crimes, and possibly actions under penal statutes by common informers, cannot. The agreement to submit these disputes can sometimes be made verbally, sometimes in writing, and sometimes through a deed or deed poll. The ability to refer a matter to arbitration depends on the general laws of contractual capacity. The laws in England regarding the capacity to serve as an arbitrator and objections to an arbitrator based on interest have been closely followed by American courts. The same applies to the requirements for an award, the method of enforcing it, and the grounds on which it can be annulled. The arbitrator has a lien on the award for their fees; and—unlike English law—they can sue for these fees without an explicit promise to pay (cf. Goodall v. Cooley, 1854, 29 New Hamp. 48). Under common law, a submission can generally be revoked at any time before an award is made; and, unless agreed otherwise, it is also revoked by the death of one of the parties. Pennsylvania has made provisions for compulsory arbitration through an act dated June 16, 1836 (see Pepper and Lewis, Pennsylvania Digest, tit. “arbitration”).

The rules of court also of many of the states of the United States provide for reference through the intervention of References by rule of court. the court at any stage in the progress of a litigation. Such submissions are usually declared irrevocable by the rules providing for them.

The court rules in many states across the United States allow for reference through the involvement of the court at any point during a legal case. These submissions are typically stated to be irrevocable by the rules that govern them.

In addition to voluntary submissions and references by rules of court there are in America, as in the United Kingdom, various statutes which provide for arbitration in particular cases. Most of these statutes are founded on the 9 and Statutory arbitrations. 10 Will. III., c. 15, and 3 and 4 Will. IV. c. 42, s. 49, “by which it is allowed to refer a matter in dispute (not then in court) to arbitrators, and agree that the submission be made a rule of court. This agreement, being proved on the oath of one of the witnesses thereto, is enforced as if it had been made at first a rule of court” (Bouvier, Law Dict. s.v. “Arbitration”).

Besides voluntary submissions and references under court rules, there are various laws in America, similar to those in the United Kingdom, that allow for arbitration in specific cases. Most of these laws are based on the 9 and Mandatory arbitrations. 10 Will. III., c. 15, and 3 and 4 Will. IV. c. 42, s. 49, “which permit referring a dispute (not currently in court) to arbitrators, and agreeing to make that submission a rule of court. This agreement, proven by the oath of one of the witnesses to it, is enforced as if it were initially made a rule of court” (Bouvier, Law Dict. s.v. “Arbitration”).

Ample provision is made in America for the arbitration of labour disputes.

Ample provision is made in America for the arbitration of labor disputes.

Law of France.—Voluntary arbitration has always been recognized in France. In cases of mercantile partnerships, arbitration was formerly compulsory; but in 1856 (law of the 17th of July 1856) jurisdiction in disputes between parties was conferred on the Tribunals of Commerce (as to which see Code de Commerce, arts. 327 615 et seq.), and arbitration at the present time is purely voluntary. The subject is very fully dealt with in the Code de Procédure Civile (arts. 1003-1028). The submission to arbitration (compromis) must, on pain of nullity, be acted upon within three months from its date (art. 1007). The submission terminates (i.) by the death, refusal, resignation or inability to act of one of the arbitrators; (ii.) by the expiration of the period agreed upon, or of three months if no time had been fixed; (iii.) by the disagreement of two arbitrators, unless power be reserved to them to appoint an umpire (art. 1012). An arbitrator cannot resign if he has once commenced to act, and can only be relieved on some ground arising subsequently to the submission (art. 1014). Each party to the arbitration is required to produce his evidence at least fifteen days before the expiration of the period fixed by the submission (art. 1016). If the arbitrators, differing in opinion, cannot agree upon an umpire (tiers arbitre), the president of the Tribunal of Commerce will appoint one, on the application of either party (art. 1017). The umpire is required to give his decision within one month of his acceptance of the appointment; before making his award, he must confer with the previous arbitrators who disagreed (art. 1018). Arbitrators and umpire must proceed according to the ordinary rules of law, unless they are specially empowered by the submission to proceed as amiables compositeurs (art. 1019). The award is rendered executory by an order of the president of the Civil Tribunal of First Instance (art. 1020). Awards cannot be set up against third parties (art. 1022), or attacked by way of opposition. An appeal against an award lies to the Civil Tribunal of First Instance, or to the court of appeal, according as the subject-matter, in the absence of arbitration, would have been within the jurisdiction of the justice of the peace, or of the Civil Tribunal of First Instance (art. 1023). In the manufacturing towns of France, there are also boards of umpires (Conseils de Prud’hommes) to deal with trade disputes between masters and workmen belonging to certain specified trades.

Law of France.—Voluntary arbitration has always been recognized in France. In cases of business partnerships, arbitration used to be mandatory; however, in 1856 (law of July 17, 1856), jurisdiction in disputes between parties was assigned to the Tribunals of Commerce (see Code de Commerce, arts. 327 615 et seq.), and arbitration today is completely voluntary. The topic is thoroughly covered in the Code de Procédure Civile (arts. 1003-1028). The submission to arbitration (compromis) must, under penalty of nullity, be executed within three months of its date (art. 1007). The submission ends (i.) if one of the arbitrators dies, refuses, resigns, or becomes unable to act; (ii.) when the agreed time expires, or after three months if no time was set; (iii.) when two arbitrators disagree, unless they have the power to appoint an umpire (art. 1012). An arbitrator cannot resign after starting to act and can only be relieved for reasons that arise after the submission (art. 1014). Each party must present their evidence at least fifteen days before the end of the time set by the submission (art. 1016). If the arbitrators cannot agree on an umpire (tiers arbitre), the president of the Tribunal of Commerce will appoint one upon the request of either party (art. 1017). The umpire must make a decision within one month of accepting the appointment; before issuing their award, they must consult with the previous arbitrators who disagreed (art. 1018). Arbitrators and the umpire must follow normal legal rules unless they are specifically allowed by the submission to act as amiables compositeurs (art. 1019). The award becomes enforceable with an order from the president of the Civil Tribunal of First Instance (art. 1020). Awards cannot be upheld against third parties (art. 1022), nor can they be contested through opposition. An appeal against an award can be made to the Civil Tribunal of First Instance, or to the court of appeal, depending on whether the issue, in the absence of arbitration, would have been handled by the justice of the peace or by the Civil Tribunal of First Instance (art. 1023). In the manufacturing towns of France, there are also boards of umpires (Conseils de Prud’hommes) that handle trade disputes between employers and workers in certain specified trades.

Other Foreign Laws.—The provisions of French law as to arbitration are in force in Belgium (Code de Proc. Civ., arts. 1003 et seq.); and a convention (8th of July 1899) between France and Belgium regulates, inter alia, the mutual enforcement of awards. The law of France has also been reproduced in substance in the Netherlands (Code of Civil Procedure, arts. 620 et seq.). The German Imperial Code of Procedure did not create any system of arbitration in civil cases. But this omission was supplied in Prussia by a law of the 29th of March 1879, which provided for the appointment, in each commune, of an arbitrator (Schiedsmann) before whom conciliation proceedings in contentious matters might be conducted. The procedure was gratuitous and voluntary; and the functions of the arbitrator were not judicial; he merely recorded the arrangement arrived at, or the refusal of conciliation. This law was followed in Brunswick by a law of the 2nd of July 1896, and in Baden by a law of the 16th of April 1886. In Luxemburg, compulsory arbitration in matters affecting commercial partnerships was abolished in 1879 (law of the 16th of April 1879). A system of conciliation, similar to the Prussian, exists in Italy (laws of the 16th of June 1892, and the 26th of December 1892) and in some of the Swiss cantons (law of the 29th of April 1883). Spain (Code of Civil Proc., arts. 1003-1028; Civil Code, arts. 1820-1821) and Sweden and Norway (law of the 28th of October 1887) have followed the French law. In Portugal, provision has been made for the creation in important industrial centres, on the application of the administrative corporations, of boards of conciliation (decrees of the 14th of August 1889, and the 18th of May 1893).

Other Foreign Laws.—The rules regarding arbitration in French law are applicable in Belgium (Code de Proc. Civ., arts. 1003 et seq.); and a treaty (July 8, 1899) between France and Belgium governs, inter alia, the mutual enforcement of awards. The essence of French law has also been adopted in the Netherlands (Code of Civil Procedure, arts. 620 et seq.). The German Imperial Code of Procedure did not establish a system for arbitration in civil matters. However, this gap was filled in Prussia by a law on March 29, 1879, which mandated the appointment of an arbitrator (Schiedsmann) in each municipality, where conciliation proceedings in disputes would take place. The process was free of charge and voluntary; the arbitrator's role was not judicial; they simply noted the agreement reached or the lack of conciliation. This law was mirrored in Brunswick by a law on July 2, 1896, and in Baden by a law on April 16, 1886. In Luxembourg, mandatory arbitration concerning commercial partnerships was eliminated in 1879 (law of April 16, 1879). A conciliation system, similar to the one in Prussia, exists in Italy (laws of June 16, 1892, and December 26, 1892) and in some Swiss cantons (law of April 29, 1883). Spain (Code of Civil Proc., arts. 1003-1028; Civil Code, arts. 1820-1821) and Sweden and Norway (law of October 28, 1887) have adopted French law as well. In Portugal, provisions have been made to establish conciliation boards in major industrial centers upon the request of administrative corporations (decrees of August 14, 1889, and May 18, 1893).

Authorities.—Russell, Arbitration (London, 1906); Annual Practice (London, yearly); Redman, Arbitration (London, 1897); Crewe, Arbitration Act of 1889 (London, 1898); Pollock, On Arbitrators (London, 1906). As to Scots law: Bell, On Arbitration (2nd ed., Edinburgh, 1877); Erskine, Principles (20th ed., Edinburgh, 1903). As to American law: Morse, Law of Arbitration (Boston, 1872). As to foreign law generally: the texts of the laws cited, and the Annuaire de législation étrangère.

Authorities.—Russell, Arbitration (London, 1906); Annual Practice (London, yearly); Redman, Arbitration (London, 1897); Crewe, Arbitration Act of 1889 (London, 1898); Pollock, On Arbitrators (London, 1906). For Scots law: Bell, On Arbitration (2nd ed., Edinburgh, 1877); Erskine, Principles (20th ed., Edinburgh, 1903). For American law: Morse, Law of Arbitration (Boston, 1872). For foreign law in general: the texts of the laws cited, and the Annuaire de législation étrangère.

(A. W. R.)

ARBITRATION, INTERNATIONAL. International arbitration is a proceeding in which two nations refer their differences to one or more selected persons, who, after affording to each party an opportunity of being heard, pronounce judgment on the matters at issue. It is understood, unless otherwise expressed, that the judgment shall be in accordance with the law by which civilized nations have agreed to be bound, whenever such law is applicable. Some authorities, notably the eminent Swiss jurist, J.K. Bluntschli, consider that unless this tacit condition is complied with, the award may be set aside. This would, however, be highly inconvenient since international law has never been codified. A fresh arbitration might have to be entered on to decide (1) what the law was, (2) whether it applied to the matter in hand. Arbitration differs from Mediation (q.v.) in so far as it is a judicial act, whereas Mediation involves no decision, but merely advice and suggestions to those who invoke its aid.

ARBITRATION, INTERNATIONAL. International arbitration is a process where two countries take their disputes to one or more chosen individuals, who, after giving each side a chance to present their case, issue a ruling on the issues at stake. It’s understood, unless stated otherwise, that the ruling will be in line with the laws that civilized nations have agreed to follow, whenever those laws apply. Some experts, especially the well-known Swiss lawyer, J.K. Bluntschli, believe that if this implied condition isn't met, the decision could be overturned. However, this could create significant issues since international law has never been fully codified. A new arbitration might be needed to determine (1) what the law was, and (2) whether it applies to the case at hand. Arbitration differs from Mediation (q.v.) in that it involves a judicial decision, while Mediation only offers advice and suggestions to those seeking help.

Arbitral Tribunals.—An international arbitrator may be the chief of a friendly power, or he may be a private individual. When he is an emperor, a king, or a president of a republic, it is not expected that he will act personally; he may appoint a delegate or delegates to act on his behalf, and avail himself of their labours and views, the ultimate decision being his only in name. In this respect international arbitration differs from civil arbitration, since a private arbitrator cannot delegate his office without express authority. The analogy between the two fails to hold good in another respect also. In civil arbitration, the decision or award may be made a rule of court, after which it becomes enforceable by writ of execution against person or property. An international award cannot be enforced directly; in other words it has no legal sanction behind it. Its obligation rests on the good faith of the parties to the reference, and on the fact that, with the help of a world-wide press, public opinion can always be brought to bear on any state that seeks to evade its moral duty. The obligation of an ordinary treaty rests on precisely the same foundations. Where there are two or any other even number of arbitrators, provision is usually made for an umpire (French sur-arbitre). The umpire may be chosen by the arbitrators themselves or nominated by a neutral power. In the “Alabama” arbitration five arbitrators were nominated by the president of the United States, the queen of England, the king of Italy, the president of the Swiss Confederation, and the emperor of Brazil respectively. In the Bering Sea arbitration there were seven arbitrators, two nominated by Great Britain, two by the United States, and the remaining three by the president of the French Republic, the king of Italy, and the king of Sweden and Norway respectively. In neither of these cases was there an umpire; nor was any necessary, since the decision, if not unanimous, lay with the majority. (See separate articles on Bering Sea Arbitration and “Alabama” Arbitration.)

Arbitral Tribunals.—An international arbitrator can be the leader of a friendly country or a private individual. When that person is an emperor, king, or president of a republic, it’s not expected that they will handle the matter personally; they can appoint a delegate or delegates to act on their behalf and benefit from their work and opinions, with the final decision being theirs only in name. In this way, international arbitration differs from civil arbitration, since a private arbitrator cannot delegate their role without explicit authority. The analogy between the two also breaks down in another way. In civil arbitration, the decision or award can become a court ruling, which makes it enforceable by a writ of execution against a person or their property. An international award cannot be enforced directly; in other words, it lacks legal backing. Its obligation depends on the good faith of the parties involved, and the reality that with the help of a global press, public opinion can always be wielded against any nation that tries to escape its moral responsibilities. The obligation of a regular treaty is built on exactly the same principles. When there are two or any other even number of arbitrators, there's usually a provision for an umpire (French sur-arbitre). The arbitrators can either choose the umpire themselves or a neutral country can nominate one. In the “Alabama” arbitration, five arbitrators were appointed by the president of the United States, the queen of England, the king of Italy, the president of the Swiss Confederation, and the emperor of Brazil, respectively. In the Bering Sea arbitration, there were seven arbitrators, two appointed by Great Britain, two by the United States, and the remaining three by the president of the French Republic, the king of Italy, and the king of Sweden and Norway, respectively. In neither case was there an umpire, nor was one needed, since the decision, even if not unanimous, was made by the majority. (See separate articles on Bering Sea Arbitration and “Alabama” Arbitration.)

Arbitral tribunals may have to deal with questions either of law or fact, or of both combined. When they have to deal with law only, that is to say, to lay down a principle or decide a question of liability, their functions are judicial or quasi-judicial, and the result is arbitration proper. Where they have to deal with facts only, e.g. the evaluation of pecuniary claims, their functions are administrative rather than judicial, and the term commission is applied to them. “Mixed commissions,” so called because they are composed of representatives of the parties in difference, have been frequently resorted to for delimitation of frontiers, and for settling the indemnities to be paid to the subjects of neutral powers in respect of losses sustained by non-combatants in times of war or civil insurrection. The two earliest of these were nominated in 1794 under the treaty negotiated by Lord Grenville with Mr John Jay, commonly called the “Jay Treaty,” their tasks being (1) to define the boundary between Canada and the United States which had been agreed to by the treaty signed at Paris in 1783; (2) to estimate the amount to be paid by Great Britain and the United States to each other in respect of illegal captures or condemnation of vessels during the war of the American Revolution.

Arbitral tribunals may need to address questions of law, facts, or a combination of both. When they focus solely on law, meaning they set down a principle or decide on liability, their role is judicial or quasi-judicial, and this is considered proper arbitration. When they concentrate only on facts, for example, evaluating monetary claims, their role is more administrative than judicial, and they are referred to as a commission. “Mixed commissions,” named because they consist of representatives from the conflicting parties, have often been used to define frontiers and to resolve the compensation to be paid to the subjects of neutral powers for losses incurred by non-combatants during wartime or civil unrest. The first two of these were established in 1794 under the treaty negotiated by Lord Grenville with Mr. John Jay, known as the “Jay Treaty.” Their tasks were (1) to determine the boundary between Canada and the United States as agreed upon in the treaty signed at Paris in 1783; (2) to assess the amount owed by Great Britain and the United States to one another for illegal captures or condemnation of vessels during the American Revolutionary War.

Although arbitrations proper may be thus distinguished from “mixed commissions,” it must not be supposed that any hard or fast theoretical line can be drawn between them. Arbitrators strictly so called may (as in the “Alabama” case) proceed to award damages after they have decided the question of liability; whilst “mixed commissions,” before awarding damages, usually have to decide whether the pecuniary claims made are or are not well founded.

Although proper arbitrations can be distinguished from "mixed commissions," it's important not to assume that a strict theoretical line can be drawn between them. Arbitrators, as in the “Alabama” case, may go on to award damages after determining liability, while "mixed commissions" typically need to decide whether the financial claims made are justified before awarding damages.

Awards.—International awards, as already pointed out, differ from civil awards in having no legal sanction by which they can be enforced. On the other hand, they resemble civil awards in that they may be set aside, i.e. ignored, for sufficient reason, as, for example, if the tribunal has not acted in good faith, or has not given to each party an opportunity of being heard, or has exceeded its jurisdiction. An instance under the last head occurred in 1831, when it was referred to the king of the Netherlands as sole arbitrator to fix the north-eastern boundary of the state of Maine. The king’s representatives 328 were unable to draw the frontier line by reason of the imperfection of the maps then in existence, and he therefore directed a further survey. This direction was beyond the terms of the reference, and the award, when made, was repudiated by the United States as void for excess. The point in dispute was only finally disposed of by the Webster-Ashburton treaty of 1842.

Awards.—International awards, as already mentioned, differ from civil awards in that they don’t have legal backing for enforcement. However, they are similar to civil awards in that they can be disregarded for valid reasons, such as if the tribunal didn’t act in good faith, didn’t allow each party a chance to be heard, or went beyond its authority. An example of this occurred in 1831 when the king of the Netherlands was asked to serve as the sole arbitrator to determine the north-eastern boundary of the state of Maine. The king’s representatives couldn’t draw the boundary line due to the poor quality of the available maps, so he ordered a further survey. This instruction was outside the scope of the reference, and when the award was made, the United States rejected it as invalid due to exceeding authority. The disagreement was ultimately resolved by the Webster-Ashburton treaty of 1842.

Subject-matter.—The history of international arbitration is dealt with in the article Peace, where treaties of general arbitration are discussed, both those which embrace all future differences thereafter to arise between the contracting parties, and also those more limited conventions which aim at the settlement of all future differences in regard to particular subjects, e.g. commerce or navigation. The rapid growth of international arbitration in recent times may be gathered from the following figures. Between 1820 and 1840, there were eight such instances; between 1840 and 1860, there were thirty; between 1860 and 1880, forty-four; between 1880 and 1900, ninety. Of the governments which were parties in these several cases Great Britain heads the list in point of numbers, the United States of America being a good second. France, Portugal, Spain and the Netherlands are the European states next in order. The present article is concerned exclusively with arbitration in regard to such existing differences as are capable of precise statement and of prompt adjustment. These differences may be arranged in two main groups:—

Subject-matter.—The history of international arbitration is covered in the article Peace, where treaties for general arbitration are discussed. These include treaties that cover all future disputes arising between the contracting parties, as well as more specific agreements that focus on resolving future disputes related to particular topics, such as commerce or navigation. The rapid increase in international arbitration in recent times can be seen in the following figures. Between 1820 and 1840, there were eight such cases; between 1840 and 1860, there were thirty; between 1860 and 1880, there were forty-four; and between 1880 and 1900, there were ninety. Of the governments involved in these cases, Great Britain had the most, with the United States of America following closely behind. France, Portugal, Spain, and the Netherlands are the next European countries in line. This article is focused solely on arbitration concerning existing disputes that can be precisely defined and quickly resolved. These disputes can be categorized into two main groups:—

(a) Those which have arisen between state and state in their sovereign capacities;

(a) Those that have come up between states in their sovereign roles;

(b) Those in which one state has made a demand upon another state, ostensibly in its sovereign capacity, but really on behalf of some individual, or set of individuals, whose interests it was bound to protect.

(b) Those where one state has made a request to another state, seemingly in its sovereign role, but actually on behalf of some individual or group of individuals whose interests it was obligated to safeguard.

To group (a) belong territorial differences in regard to ownership of land and rights of fishing at sea; to group (b) belong pecuniary claims in respect of acts wrongfully done to one or more subjects of one state by, or with the authority of, another state. To enumerate even a tenth part of the successful arbitrations in recent times would occupy too much space. Some prominent examples (dealt with elsewhere under their appropriate titles) are the dispute between the United States and Great Britain respecting the “Alabama” and other vessels employed by the Confederate government during the American Civil War (award in 1872); that between the same powers respecting the fur-seal fishery in Bering Sea (award in 1893); that between Great Britain and Venezuela respecting the boundary of British Guiana (award in 1899); that between Great Britain, the United States and Portugal respecting the Delagoa railway (award in 1900); that between Great Britain and the United States respecting the boundary of Alaska (award in 1903). The long-standing Newfoundland fishery dispute with France (finally settled in 1904) is dealt with under Newfoundland. Other examples are shortly noticed in the tables on p. 329, which although by no means exhaustive, sufficiently indicate the scope and trend of arbitration during the years covered. The cases decided by the permanent tribunal at the Hague established in 1900 are not included in these tables. They are separately discussed later.

To group (a), there are territorial differences related to land ownership and fishing rights at sea; to group (b), there are financial claims regarding wrongful acts done to one or more citizens of one state by, or with the authority of, another state. Listing even a fraction of the successful arbitrations in recent years would take up too much space. Some notable examples (discussed elsewhere under their appropriate titles) include the dispute between the United States and Great Britain over the “Alabama” and other vessels used by the Confederate government during the American Civil War (award in 1872); the disagreement between the same two nations concerning the fur-seal fishery in Bering Sea (award in 1893); the conflict between Great Britain and Venezuela regarding the boundary of British Guiana (award in 1899); the matter involving Great Britain, the United States, and Portugal about the Delagoa railway (award in 1900); and the dispute between Great Britain and the United States over the boundary of Alaska (award in 1903). The long-standing Newfoundland fishery dispute with France (finally resolved in 1904) is addressed under Newfoundland. Other examples are briefly mentioned in the tables on p. 329, which, while not exhaustive, adequately indicate the scope and direction of arbitration during the years in question. The cases decided by the permanent tribunal at The Hague, established in 1900, are not included in these tables. They will be discussed separately later.

The Hague Tribunal.—The establishment of a permanent tribunal at the Hague, pursuant to the Peace convention of 1899, marks a momentous epoch in the history of international arbitration. This tribunal realized an idea put forward by Jeremy Bentham towards the close of the 18th century, advocated by James Mill in the middle of the 19th century, and worked out later by Mr Dudley Field in America, by Dr Goldschmidt in Germany, and by Sir Edmund Hornby and Mr Leone Levi in England. The credit of the realization is due, in the first place, to the tsar of Russia, who initiated the Hague Conference of 1899, and, in the second place to Lord Pauncefote (then Sir Julian Pauncefote, British ambassador at Washington), who urged before a committee of the conference the importance of organizing a permanent international court, the service of which should be called into requisition at will, and who also submitted an outline of the mode in which such a court might be formed. The result was embodied in the following articles of the Convention, signed on behalf of sixteen of the assembled powers on the 29th of July 1899.

The Hague Tribunal.—The creation of a permanent tribunal in The Hague, following the Peace Convention of 1899, marks a significant moment in the history of international arbitration. This tribunal realized an idea proposed by Jeremy Bentham at the end of the 18th century, supported by James Mill in the mid-19th century, and developed later by Mr. Dudley Field in America, Dr. Goldschmidt in Germany, and Sir Edmund Hornby and Mr. Leone Levi in England. The credit for this achievement primarily goes to the tsar of Russia, who initiated the Hague Conference of 1899, and secondly to Lord Pauncefote (then Sir Julian Pauncefote, the British ambassador in Washington), who emphasized the importance of establishing a permanent international court that could be called upon as needed, and who also presented a proposal on how such a court could be formed. The outcome was reflected in the articles of the Convention, signed on behalf of sixteen of the participating powers on July 29, 1899.

(Art. 23). Each of the signatory powers is to designate within three months from the ratification of the convention four persons at the most, of recognized competence in international law, enjoying the highest moral consideration, and willing to accept the duties of arbitrators. Two or more powers may agree to nominate one or more members in common, or the same person may be nominated by different powers. Members of the court are to be appointed for six years and may be re-nominated. (Art. 25). The signatory powers desiring to apply to the tribunal for the settlement of a difference between them are to notify the same to the arbitrators. The arbitrators who are to determine this difference are, unless otherwise specially agreed, to be chosen from the general list of members in the following manner:—each party is to name two arbitrators, and these are to choose a chief arbitrator or umpire (sur-arbitre). If the votes are equally divided the selection of the chief arbitrator is to be entrusted to a third power to be named by the parties. (Art. 26). The tribunal is to sit at the Hague when practicable, unless the parties otherwise agree. (Art. 27). “The signatory powers consider it a duty in the event of an acute conflict threatening to break out between two or more of them to remind these latter that the permanent court is open to them. This action is only to be considered as an exercise of good offices.” Several of the powers nominated members of the permanent court pursuant to Art. 25, quoted above, those nominated on behalf of Great Britain being Lord Pauncefote, Sir Edward Malet, Sir Edward Fry and Professor Westlake. On the death of Lord Pauncefote, Major-General Sir John C. Ardagh was appointed in his place.

(Art. 23). Each of the signatory countries must appoint up to four individuals, recognized as competent in international law, who are of high moral standing and willing to take on the role of arbitrators, within three months of ratifying the convention. Two or more countries can agree to nominate one or more members together, or the same individual may be nominated by different countries. Members of the court are appointed for six years and can be re-nominated. (Art. 25). The signatory countries wanting to bring a dispute to the tribunal need to inform the arbitrators. The arbitrators chosen to resolve this dispute will, unless agreed otherwise, be selected from the general list of members in the following way: each party will name two arbitrators, and they will then select a chief arbitrator or umpire (sur-arbitre). If there’s a tie in the votes, the choice of the chief arbitrator will be given to a third country chosen by the parties. (Art. 26). The tribunal will meet at The Hague whenever possible, unless the parties agree otherwise. (Art. 27). “The signatory countries feel it is their duty, in the event of a serious conflict arising between two or more of them, to remind those countries that the permanent court is available to them. This action is only to be seen as an act of goodwill.” Several countries nominated members to the permanent court according to Art. 25, mentioned above, with the nominations from Great Britain being Lord Pauncefote, Sir Edward Malet, Sir Edward Fry, and Professor Westlake. Following Lord Pauncefote's death, Major-General Sir John C. Ardagh was appointed in his place.

Hague Cases.—(1) The first case decided by the Hague court was concerned with the “Pious Fund of the Californias.” A fund bearing this name was formed in the 18th century for the purpose of converting to the Catholic faith the native Indians of The pious fund of the Californias. Upper and Lower California, both of which then belonged to Mexico, and of maintaining a Catholic priesthood there. By a decree of 1842 this fund was transferred to the public treasury of Mexico, the Mexican government undertaking to pay interest thereon in perpetuity in furtherance of the design of the original donors. After the sale of Upper California to the United States, effected by the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo (1848), the Mexican government refused to pay the proportion of the interest to which Upper California was entitled. The question of liability was then referred to commissioners appointed by each state, and, on their failing to agree, to Sir Edward Thornton, British minister at Washington, who by his award, in 1875, found there was due from Mexico to Upper California, or rather to the bishops there as administrators of the fund, an arrear of interest amounting to nearly $100,000, which was directed to be paid in gold. This award was carried out, but payment of the current interest was again withheld as from the 24th of October 1868. Claim was thereupon made on Mexico by the United States on behalf of the bishops, but without success. Ultimately, in May 1902, an agreement was come to between the two governments which provided for the settlement of the dispute by the Hague tribunal. The points to be determined were (1) whether the matter was res judicata by reason of Sir E. Thornton’s award; (2) whether, if not, the claim for the interest was just. The arbitrators selected by the United States were Sir E. Fry and Professor F. de Martens, and by Mexico, Professor Asser and Professor de Savornin Lohman, both of Amsterdam. These four (none of whom, it will be observed, was of the nationality of either party in difference) chose for their umpire Professor Matzen, of Copenhagen, president of the Landsthing there. In October 1902, the court decided both questions in the affirmative, awarding the payment by Mexico of the annual sum claimed, not in gold, but en monnaie ayant cours légal au Mexique. The direction to pay in gold made by Sir E. Thornton was held to be referable only to the mode of the execution of the award, and therefore not to be chose jugée.

Hague Cases.—(1) The first case decided by the Hague court dealt with the “Pious Fund of the Californias.” This fund, created in the 18th century, aimed to convert the native Indians of The religious fund of the Californias. Upper and Lower California, both of which were then part of Mexico, to the Catholic faith and to support the Catholic priesthood there. In 1842, this fund was transferred to the public treasury of Mexico, with the Mexican government agreeing to pay interest on it indefinitely in line with the intentions of the original donors. After Upper California was sold to the United States through the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo (1848), the Mexican government refused to pay the portion of the interest that Upper California was due. The issue of liability was then handed over to commissioners appointed by each state. When they couldn’t reach an agreement, it was brought to Sir Edward Thornton, the British minister in Washington, who issued an award in 1875 stating that Mexico owed Upper California—specifically the bishops there managing the fund—a back payment of interest totaling nearly $100,000, which was to be paid in gold. This award was executed, but payment of the ongoing interest was again stopped as of October 24, 1868. The United States made a claim against Mexico on behalf of the bishops, but it was unsuccessful. Finally, in May 1902, the two governments reached an agreement to settle the dispute through the Hague tribunal. The issues to be resolved were: (1) whether the matter was res judicata due to Sir E. Thornton’s award; (2) if not, whether the claim for interest was valid. The arbitrators chosen by the United States were Sir E. Fry and Professor F. de Martens, while Mexico selected Professor Asser and Professor de Savornin Lohman, both from Amsterdam. These four arbitrators, none of whom were from either party in dispute, selected Professor Matzen from Copenhagen, president of the Landsthing, as their umpire. In October 1902, the court answered both questions affirmatively, ordering Mexico to pay the claimed annual amount, not in gold, but en monnaie ayant cours légal au Mexique. The instruction to pay in gold from Sir E. Thornton was determined to refer only to how the award was to be executed and was therefore not chose jugée.

(2) The second arbitration before the Hague court was more important than the first, not only because so many of the great powers were concerned in it, but also because it brought about the discontinuance of acts of war. The facts may Great Britain, Germany and Italy versus Venezuela. be stated shortly thus. By three several protocols signed at Washington in February 1903, it was agreed that certain claims by Great Britain, Germany and Italy, on behalf of their respective subjects against the Venezuelan government should be referred to three mixed commissions, and that for the purpose of securing the payment of these claims 30 percent of the customs revenues at the ports of La Guayra and Puerto Caballo should be remitted in monthly instalments to the representative of the Bank of England at Caracas. Prior to the date of these protocols, an attempt had been made by Great Britain, Germany and Italy to enforce their claims by blockade, and a further question arose as between these three powers on the one hand, and the United States of America, France, Spain, Belgium, the Netherlands, Sweden and Norway, and Mexico (all of whom had claims against Venezuela, but had abstained from hostile action) on the other hand, as to whether the blockading powers were entitled to preferential treatment. By three several protocols signed in May 329 1903 this question was agreed to be submitted to the Hague court, three members of which were to be named as arbitrators by the tsar of Russia, but no arbitrator was to be a subject or citizen of any of the signatory or creditor powers. The arbitrators named by the tsar were M. Muraviev, minister of justice and attorney-general of the Russian empire; Professor Lammasch, member of the Upper House of the Austrian parliament; and M. de Martens, then member of the council of the ministry of foreign affairs at St Petersburg. The arbitrators by their award in February 1904 decided unanimously in favour of the blockading powers and ordered payment of their claims out of the 30% of the receipts at the two Venezuelan ports which had been set apart to meet them.

(2) The second arbitration before the Hague court was more significant than the first, not only because many major powers were involved, but also because it led to the stopping of acts of war. The facts can be summarized like this: Great Britain, Germany, and Italy against Venezuela. In February 1903, three protocols were signed in Washington, agreeing that certain claims made by Great Britain, Germany, and Italy on behalf of their citizens against the Venezuelan government would be referred to three mixed commissions. To secure the payment of these claims, 30 percent of the customs revenues from the ports of La Guayra and Puerto Caballo would be sent in monthly installments to the representative of the Bank of England in Caracas. Before these protocols were signed, Great Britain, Germany, and Italy had tried to enforce their claims through a blockade, which raised another question between these three powers and the United States, France, Spain, Belgium, the Netherlands, Sweden, Norway, and Mexico (all of whom had claims against Venezuela but had not taken hostile action) about whether the blockading powers should receive preferential treatment. In May 1903, three additional protocols were signed, agreeing that this question would be submitted to the Hague court. Three arbitrators were to be appointed by the Tsar of Russia, and none of the arbitrators could be a subject or citizen of any of the signing or creditor powers. The arbitrators appointed by the Tsar were M. Muraviev, the minister of justice and attorney-general of the Russian Empire; Professor Lammasch, a member of the Upper House of the Austrian parliament; and M. de Martens, who was a member of the council of the ministry of foreign affairs in St. Petersburg at that time. The arbitrators made their decision in February 1904, unanimously in favor of the blockading powers, and ordered payment of their claims from the 30% of the receipts at the two Venezuelan ports that had been set aside to cover them.

 

Dates of
agreements
to refer.
Parties. Arbitrating Authority. Subject-Matter. Date of award.
Table 1.
Territorial Disputes (Ownership)
1857

Holland and Venezuela

Netherlands and Venezuela

Queen of Spain

Queen of Spain

Island of Aves in Venezuela

Aves Island in Venezuela

1865
1869

Great Britain and Portugal

UK and Portugal

President of United States

U.S. President

Island of Bulama on West Coast of Africa

Island of Bulama on the West Coast of Africa

1870
1872

Great Britain and Portugal

UK and Portugal

President of French Republic

President of France

Delagoa Bay (part of), Inyack and Elephant Is., S.E. Africa

Delagoa Bay (part of), Inyack and Elephant Island, Southeast Africa

1875
1876

Argentine Republic and Paraguay

Argentina and Paraguay

President of United States

U.S. President

Territory between the Verde and Pilcomayo river of Paraguay

Territory between the Verde and Pilcomayo rivers of Paraguay

1878
1885

Great Britain and Germany

UK and Germany

Mixed Commission

Mixed Commission

Islets and guano deposits on S.W. Coast of Africa

Islands and bird droppings deposits on the southwest coast of Africa.

1886
1886

Bulgaria and Servia

Bulgaria and Serbia

Mixed Commission

Joint Commission

Territory near the village of Bergovo

Territory near the village of Bergovo

1887
1902

Austria and Hungary

Austria & Hungary

Mixed Commission (with President of Swiss Federal tribunal as umpire)

Mixed Commission (with the President of the Swiss Federal Tribunal as the umpire)

Territory in the district of Upper Tatra

Territory in the Upper Tatra district

1902
Table 2.
Delimitation of Frontiers.
1869

Great Britainand the Transvaal

Great Britain and the Transvaal

Lieutenant Governor of Natal

Lieutenant Governor of Natal

The southern boundary of the S. African Republic

The southern boundary of the South African Republic

1870
1871

Great Britain and the United States

Great Britain and the United States

The German Emperor

The German Emperor

The San Juan water boundary

The San Juan water border

1872
1873

Italy and Switzerland

Italy & Switzerland

Mixed Commission (with U.S. Minister at Rome as umpire)

Mixed Commission (with the U.S. Minister in Rome as the mediator)

The Canton of Ticino

The Canton of Ticino

1874
1885

Great Britain and Russia

UK and Russia

Mixed Commission

Mixed Commission

North-western Afganistan

Northwestern Afghanistan

1887
1890

France and Holland

France and the Netherlands

Tsar of Russia

Czar of Russia

French Guiana and Dutch Guiana

French Guiana and Suriname

1891
1895

Great Britain and Portugal

UK and Portugal

President of the Italian Court of Appeal

President of the Italian Court of Appeal

Manicaland

Manicaland

1897
1897

France and Brazil

France and Brazil

President of the Swiss Confederation

Swiss Confederation President

River Yapoe named in the Treaty of Utrecht 1813

River Yapoe mentioned in the Treaty of Utrecht 1813

1900
1901

Great Britain and Brazil

UK and Brazil

King of Italy

King of Italy

British Guiana

Guyana

1904
1903

Great Britain and Portugal

UK and Portugal

King of Italy

King of Italy

Barotseland

Barotseland

1905
Table 3.
Pecuniary Claims in respect of Seizures and Arrests.
1851

United States and Portugal

US and Portugal

President of French Republic

President of France

Seizure of the American privateer “General Armstrong”

Seizure of the American privateer "General Armstrong"

1852
1863

Great Britain and Brazil

UK and Brazil

King of the Belgians

King of Belgium

Arrest of three British officers of the ship “La Forte”

Arrest of three British officers from the ship “La Forte”

1863
1863

Great Britain and Peru

UK and Peru

Sentate of Hamburg

Senate of Hamburg

Arrest at Callao of Capt. Melville White, a British subject

Arrest at Callao of Captain Melville White, a British citizen

1864
1870

United States and Spain

USA and Spain

Mixed Commission

Mixed Commission

The American S.S. “Col. Lloyd Aspinwall”

The American S.S. “Col. Lloyd Aspinwall”

1870
1873

Japan and Peru

Japan & Peru

Tsar of Russia

Tsar of Russia

The Peruvian barque “Maria Luz”

The Peruvian ship “Maria Luz”

1875
1874

United States and Colombia

USA and Colombia

Mixed Commission

Mixed Commission

The American S.S. “Montijo”

The U.S. S.S. "Montijo"

1875
1879

France and Nicaragua

France & Nicaragua

French Court of Cassation

French Supreme Court

The French ship “La Phare”

The French ship "La Phare"

1880
1885

United States an Spain

United States and Spain

Italian Minister at Madrid

Italian Minister in Madrid

The American S.S. “The Masonic”

The American S.S. "Masonic"

1885
1888

The United States and Denmark

The U.S. and Denmark

British Minister at Athens

UK Minister in Athens

The S.S. “Benjamin Franklin” and the barque “Catherine Augusta”

The S.S. “Benjamin Franklin” and the barque “Catherine Augusta”

1890
1895

Great Britain and Netherlands

UK and Netherlands

Tsar of Russia, who delegated his duties to Professor F. de Martens

Tsar of Russia, who assigned his responsibilities to Professor F. de Martens

Arrest of the master of the “Costa Rica” packet (a British subject)

Arrest of the captain of the “Costa Rica” packet (a British citizen)

1897

(3) The third case before the Hague court was heard in 1904-1905. A controversy not amenable to ordinary diplomatic methods arose between Great Britain, France and Germany on the one hand and Japan on the other hand as to the legality of a house-tax imposed by Japan on Great Britain, France and Germany versus Japan. certain subjects of those powers who held leases in perpetuity. The question upon the true construction of certain treaties between the European powers and Japan which had been made a few years previously. By three protocols signed at Tokyo in August 1902 this question was agreed to be submitted to arbitrators, members of the court at the Hague, one to be chosen by each party with power to name an umpire. The arbitrators chosen were M. Renault, professor of the law faculty in Paris, and M. Montono, the Japanese envoy to the French capital. They named as their umpire and president M. Gram, ex-minister of the state of Norway. In May 1905, an award was pronounced by the majority (M. Gram and M. Renault) in favour of the European contention, M. Montono dissenting both from the conclusion of his colleagues and from the reasons on which it was based.

(3) The third case heard by the Hague court took place in 1904-1905. A disagreement arose between Great Britain, France, and Germany on one side and Japan on the other regarding the legality of a house tax imposed by Japan on certain subjects from those countries who held long-term leases. The issue revolved around the correct interpretation of certain treaties made a few years earlier between the European powers and Japan. Through three protocols signed in Tokyo in August 1902, it was agreed to submit this issue to arbitrators, members of the court in The Hague, with each party selecting one and having the authority to appoint an umpire. The selected arbitrators were M. Renault, a law professor in Paris, and M. Montono, the Japanese ambassador in France. They appointed M. Gram, a former minister of Norway, as their umpire and president. In May 1905, a decision was reached by the majority (M. Gram and M. Renault) in favor of the European perspective, with M. Montono dissenting from both the conclusion of his colleagues and the rationale behind it.

(4) Barely two months had elapsed since the date of the last award when the Hague court was again called into requisition. The scene of dispute this time was on the S.E. coast of Arabia. Muscat, the capital of the kingdom of Oman on that coast, is ruled by a sultan, Great Britain and the French flag at Muscat. whose independence both Great Britain and France had, in March 1862, “reciprocally engaged to respect.” Notwithstanding this, the French republic had issued to certain native dhows, owned by subjects of the sultan, papers authorizing them to fly the French flag, not only on the Oman littoral but in the Red Sea. A question thereupon arose as to the manner in which the privileges thereby purported to be conferred affected the jurisdiction of the sultan over such dhows, the masters of which, as was alleged, used their immunity from search for the purpose of carrying on contraband trade in slaves, arms and ammunition. In October 1904 the two governments agreed to refer this question to the Hague court. Chief Justice Melville W. Fuller, of the Supreme Court of the United States, was named as arbitrator on the part of Great Britain, M. de Savornin Lohrnan, who had acted in the case of the Californias (No. 1), as arbitrator on the part of France. The choice of an umpire was entrusted to the king of Italy. He named Professor Lammasch, who, as we have seen, had acted in the arbitration with Venezuela in 1903.

(4) Barely two months had passed since the last award when the Hague court was called into action again. This time, the dispute took place on the southeast coast of Arabia. Muscat, the capital of the kingdom of Oman on that coast, is ruled by a sultan, Great Britain and the French flag in Muscat. whose independence both Great Britain and France had agreed to respect in March 1862. Despite this, the French Republic had issued documents to certain local dhows owned by subjects of the sultan, allowing them to fly the French flag not only along the Oman coast but also in the Red Sea. This raised a question about how the privileges supposedly granted affected the jurisdiction of the sultan over those dhows, whose masters allegedly used their immunity from inspections to engage in illegal trade involving slaves, arms, and ammunition. In October 1904, the two governments agreed to bring this question to the Hague court. Chief Justice Melville W. Fuller of the Supreme Court of the United States was appointed as the arbitrator for Great Britain, while M. de Savornin Lohrnan, who had previously acted in the Californias case (No. 1), was appointed as the arbitrator for France. The choice of an umpire was given to the king of Italy, who selected Professor Lammasch, who had previously participated in the arbitration with Venezuela in 1903.

A unanimous award was made in August 1905. It was held that although generally speaking every sovereign may decide to whom he will accord the right to fly his flag, yet in this case such right was limited by the general act of the Brussels conference of July 1890 relative to the African slave trade, an act which was ratified by France on the 2nd of June 1892; that accordingly the owners and master of dhows who had been authorized by France to fly the French flag before the last-named date retained this authorization 330 so long as France chose to renew it, but that after that date such authorization was improper unless the guarantees could establish that they had been treated by France as her protégés within the meaning of that term as explained in a treaty of 1863 between France and Morocco. A further point decided was that the owners or master of dhows duly authorized to fly the French flag within the ruling of the first point, did not enjoy, in consequence of that fact, any such right of extra-territoriality as would exempt them from the sovereignty and jurisdiction of the sultan. Such exemption would be contrary to the engagement to respect the independence of the sultan solemnly made in 1862.

A unanimous decision was made in August 1905. It was determined that although every sovereign generally has the authority to decide who can fly their flag, in this case, that right was limited by the general act from the Brussels conference of July 1890 concerning the African slave trade, which was ratified by France on June 2, 1892. Therefore, the owners and captains of dhows who had been authorized by France to fly the French flag before that date retained this authorization as long as France chose to renew it. However, after that date, such authorization was not valid unless they could prove that they had been treated by France as her protégés, as defined in a treaty from 1863 between France and Morocco. Another point established was that the owners or captains of dhows properly authorized to fly the French flag did not have any extra-territorial rights that would exempt them from the sovereignty and jurisdiction of the sultan. Such an exemption would violate the commitment to respect the sultan's independence, which was solemnly agreed upon in 1862. 330

Arbitral Procedure.—Not the least of the benefits of the Hague convention of 1899 (strengthened by that of 1907) is that it contains rules of procedure which furnish a guide for all arbitrations whether conducted before the Hague court or not. These may be summarized as follows:—The initial step is the making by the parties of a special agreement clearly defining the subject of the dispute. The next is the choice of the arbitrators and of an umpire if the number of arbitrators is even. Each party then by its agents prepares and presents its case in a narrative or argumentative form, annexing thereto all relevant documents. The cases so presented are interchanged by transmission to the opposite party. The hearing consists in the discussion of the matters contained in the several cases, and is conducted under the direction of the president who is either the umpire, or, if there is no umpire, one of the arbitrators. The members of the tribunal have the right of putting questions to the counsel and agents of the parties and to demand from them explanation of doubtful points. The arbitral judgment is read out at a public sitting of the tribunal, the counsel and agents having been duly summoned to hear it. Any application for a revision of the award must be based on the discovery of new evidence of such a nature as to exercise a decisive influence on the judgment and unknown up to the time when the hearing was closed, both to the tribunal itself and to the party asking for the revision. These general rules are universally applicable, but each case may require that special rules should be added to them. These each tribunal must make for itself.

Arbitral Procedure.—One of the key benefits of the Hague convention of 1899 (which was strengthened by the convention of 1907) is that it includes procedural rules that serve as a guide for all arbitrations, whether they're held at the Hague court or elsewhere. These can be summarized as follows: The first step is for the parties to create a special agreement that clearly defines the subject of the dispute. Next, they choose the arbitrators, and an umpire if the number of arbitrators is even. Each party then prepares and presents its case in a narrative or argumentative format, attaching all relevant documents. The cases are exchanged by sending them to the other party. The hearing involves discussing the matters in each case and is led by the president, who is either the umpire or, if there is no umpire, one of the arbitrators. Tribunal members have the right to ask questions of the counsel and agents of the parties and to request explanations for any unclear points. The arbitral judgment is announced in a public sitting of the tribunal, with counsel and agents properly summoned to attend. Any request for a revision of the award must be based on the discovery of new evidence that could significantly impact the judgment, which was unknown at the time the hearing concluded, both to the tribunal and to the party seeking the revision. These general rules apply universally, but each case may require additional specific rules. Each tribunal must create these for itself.

One special and necessary rule is in regard to the language to be employed. This rule must vary according to convenience and is therefore made ad hoc. In case No. 1 noted above, the court allowed English or French to be spoken according to the nationality of the counsel engaged. The judgment was delivered in French only. In case No. 2 it was agreed that the written and printed memoranda should be in English but might be accompanied by a translation into the language of the power on whose behalf they were put in. The oral discussion was either in English or French as happened to be convenient. The judgment was drawn up in both languages. In case No. 3 French was the official language throughout, but the parties were allowed to make any communication to the tribunal, in French, English, German or Japanese. In case No. 4 French was again the official language, but the counsel and agents of both parties were allowed to address the tribunal in English. The protocols and the judgment were drawn up in French accompanied by an official English translation.

One important and necessary rule concerns the language to be used. This rule must change based on convenience and is therefore made ad hoc. In Case No. 1 mentioned above, the court allowed English or French to be spoken depending on the nationality of the lawyers involved. The judgment was delivered only in French. In Case No. 2, it was agreed that the written and printed documents would be in English but could include a translation into the language of the country they represented. The oral discussion could be in English or French, whichever was more convenient. The judgment was prepared in both languages. In Case No. 3, French was the official language throughout, but the parties were allowed to communicate with the tribunal in French, English, German, or Japanese. In Case No. 4, French was again the official language, but the lawyers and representatives of both parties were permitted to address the tribunal in English. The protocols and the judgment were prepared in French with an official English translation.

Limits of International Arbitration.—Of the numerous treaties for general arbitration which have been made during the 20th century that between Great Britain and France (1903) is a type. This treaty contains reservations of all questions involving the vital interests, the independence or the honour of the contracting parties. The language of the reservation is open to more interpretations than one. What, for instance, is meant by the phrase “national independence” in this connexion? If it be taken in its strict acceptation of autonomous state sovereignty, the exception is somewhat of a truism. No self-respecting power would, of course, consent to submit to arbitration a question of life or death. This would be as if two men were to agree to draw lots as to which should commit suicide in order to avoid fighting a duel. On the other hand, if the exception be taken to exclude all questions which, when decided adversely to a state, impose a restraint on its freedom of action, then the exception would seem to exclude such a question as the true interpretation of an ambiguous treaty, a subject with which experience shows international arbitration is well fitted to deal. Again, we may ask, what is meant by the phrase “national honour”? It was thought at one time that the honour of a nation could only be vindicated by war, though all that had happened was the slighting of its flag, or of its accredited representative, during some sudden ebullition of local feeling. France once nearly broke off peaceful relations with Spain because her ambassador at London was assigned a place below the Spanish ambassador, and on another occasion she despatched troops into Italy because her ambassador at Rome had been insulted by the friends and partisans of the pope. The truth is that the extent to which national honour is involved depends on factors which have nothing to do with the immediate subject of complaint. So long as general good feeling subsists between two nations, neither will easily take offence at any discourteous act of the other. But when a deep-seated antagonism is concealed beneath an unruffled surface, the most trivial incident will bring it to the light of day. “Outraged national honour” is a highly elastic phrase. It may serve as a pretext for a serious quarrel whether the alleged “outrage” be great or small.

Limits of International Arbitration.—Among the many treaties for general arbitration created during the 20th century, the one between Great Britain and France (1903) is a prime example. This treaty includes reservations about any issues that involve the vital interests, independence, or honor of the contracting parties. The wording of the reservation can be interpreted in multiple ways. For instance, what does “national independence” mean in this context? If we take it to mean strict autonomous state sovereignty, then this exception seems obvious. No self-respecting nation would agree to submit a matter of life or death to arbitration. It would be like two people agreeing to draw lots to see who would commit suicide to avoid fighting a duel. On the other hand, if the exception is meant to exclude all matters that, if decided against a state, limit its freedom of action, then it would seem to rule out questions like the accurate interpretation of a vague treaty, an issue international arbitration is often equipped to handle. Furthermore, what does “national honor” signify? At one time, it was believed that a nation's honor could only be defended through war, even when the offense was just a slight against its flag or its representative during a moment of local anger. France once nearly ended peaceful relations with Spain because her ambassador in London was placed below the Spanish ambassador, and on another occasion, she sent troops to Italy because her ambassador in Rome was insulted by the pope's supporters. The reality is that the significance of national honor is influenced by factors unrelated to the immediate issue at hand. As long as there is general goodwill between two nations, neither will be easily offended by the other's impolite actions. However, when deep-seated hostility lies beneath a calm exterior, even minor incidents can bring it to the surface. “Outraged national honor” is a very flexible term. It can serve as an excuse for a serious conflict, regardless of whether the claimed “outrage” is significant or trivial.

The prospects of the expansion of international arbitration will be more clearly perceived if we classify afresh all state differences under two heads:—(1) those which have a legal character, (2) those which have a political character. Under “legal differences” may be ranged such as are capable of being decided, when once the facts are ascertained, by settled, recognized rules, or by rules not settled nor recognized, but (as in the “Alabama” case) taken so to be for the purpose in hand. Boundary cases and cases of indemnity for losses sustained by non-combatants in time of war, of which several instances have already been mentioned, belong to this class. To the same class belong those cases in which the arbitrators have to adapt the provisions of an old treaty to new and altered circumstances, somewhat in the way in which English courts of justice apply the doctrine of “cy-près.” “Political differences” on the other hand, are such as affect states in their external relations, or in relation to their subjects or dependants who may be in revolt against them. Some of these differences may be slight, while others may be vital, or (which amounts to the same thing) may seem to the parties to be so. All differences falling under the first of these two general heads appear to be suitable for international arbitration. Differences falling under the second general head are, for the most part, unsuitable, and may only be adjusted (if at all) through the mediation of a friendly power.

The future of international arbitration will be clearer if we categorize all state disputes into two main types: (1) legal issues and (2) political issues. “Legal issues” include those that can be resolved, once the facts are established, by established, recognized rules or by rules that aren’t settled or recognized, but are accepted for the purpose at hand (as seen in the “Alabama” case). Examples of this category include boundary disputes and compensation claims for losses suffered by non-combatants during war, which have been mentioned previously. This category also covers cases where arbitrators need to apply the terms of an old treaty to new and changed circumstances, similar to how English courts use the “cy-près” doctrine. On the other hand, “political issues” affect states in their foreign relations or in regard to their subjects or dependents who may be rebelling against them. Some of these issues may be minor, while others may be crucial, or (which is essentially the same) may appear to be so to the parties involved. All disputes that fall under the first category seem appropriate for international arbitration. Disputes that fall under the second category are mostly unsuitable and may only be resolved (if at all) through the mediation of a friendly nation.

The interesting problem of the future is—are we to regard this classification as fixed or as merely transitory? The answer depends on several considerations which can only be glanced at here. It may be that, just as the usages of civilized nations have slowly crystallized into international law, so there may come a time when the political principles that govern states in relation to each other will be so clearly defined and so generally accepted as to acquire something of a legal or quasi-legal character. If they do, they will pass the line which at present separates arbitrable from non-arbitrable matter. This is the juridical aspect of the problem. But there is also an economic side to it by reason of the conditions of modern warfare. Already the nations are groaning under the burdens of militarism, and are for ever diverting energies that might be employed in the furtherance of useful productive work to purposes of an opposite character. The interruption of maritime intercourse, the stagnation of industry and trade, the rise in the price of the necessaries of life, the impossibility of adequately providing for the families of those—call them reservists, “landwehr,” or what you will—who are torn away from their daily toil to serve in the tented field,—these are considerations that may well make us pause before we abandon a peaceful solution and appeal to brute force. Lastly, there is the moral aspect of the problem. In order that international arbitration may do its perfect work, it is not enough to set up a standing tribunal, whether at the Hague or elsewhere, and to equip it with elaborate rules of procedure. Tribunals and rules are, after all, only machinery. If this machinery is to act smoothly we must improve our motive power, the source of 331 which is human passion and sentiment. Although religious animosities between Christian nations have died out, although dynasties may now rise and fall without raising half Europe to arms, the springs of warlike enterprise are still to be found in commercial jealousies, in imperialistic ambitions and in the doctrine of the survival of the fittest which lends scientific support to both. These must one and all be cleared away before we can enter on that era of universal peace towards the attainment of which the tsar of Russia declared, in his famous circular of 1898, the efforts of all governments should be directed. Meanwhile it is legitimate to share the hope expressed by President Roosevelt in his message to Congress of December 1905 that some future Hague conference may succeed in making arbitration the customary method of settling international disputes in all save the few classes of cases indicated above, and that—to quote Mr Roosevelt’s words—“these classes may themselves be as sharply defined and rigidly limited as the governmental and social development of the world will for the time being permit.”

The interesting question about the future is—should we see this classification as permanent or just temporary? The answer hinges on several factors that can only be briefly mentioned here. It could be that, just as the practices of civilized nations have gradually formed into international law, there might come a time when the political principles guiding states in their interactions become so clearly defined and widely accepted that they take on a legal or quasi-legal status. If that happens, they will cross the line that currently distinguishes matters that can be arbitrated from those that cannot. This is the legal side of the issue. But there’s also an economic aspect due to the realities of modern warfare. Nations are already burdened by militarism, constantly redirecting resources that could be used for productive work towards opposing ends. The disruption of maritime trade, stagnation in industry and commerce, rising costs of essential goods, and the inability to adequately support the families of those—call them reservists, "landwehr," or whatever you like—who are pulled away from their daily jobs to serve in the military—these are all factors that should make us hesitate before rejecting a peaceful resolution in favor of brute force. Finally, there’s the moral dimension to consider. For international arbitration to function effectively, it’s not enough to establish a permanent tribunal, whether in The Hague or elsewhere, and equip it with detailed procedural rules. Tribunals and rules are merely tools. For this machinery to work well, we need to enhance our driving force, which originates from human passions and sentiments. Although religious tensions between Christian nations have diminished, and dynasties can now change without plunging half of Europe into conflict, the triggers for military actions still stem from commercial rivalries, imperial ambitions, and the “survival of the fittest” doctrine that provides a scientific rationale for both. All of these must be addressed before we can move into an era of universal peace, which the Tsar of Russia advocated for in his famous 1898 circular, urging all governments to direct their efforts towards achieving it. In the meantime, it’s reasonable to share the hope expressed by President Roosevelt in his December 1905 message to Congress that a future Hague conference might succeed in making arbitration the standard way to resolve international disputes, except for a few specific cases mentioned earlier, and that—quoting Mr. Roosevelt—“these classes may themselves be as clearly defined and strictly limited as the governmental and social development of the world will allow at that time.”

Authorities.—Among special treatises are: Kamarowsky, Le Tribunal international (traduit par Serge de Westman) (Paris, 1887); Rouard de Card, Les Destinées de l’arbitrage international, depuis la sentence rendue par le tribunal de Genève (Paris, 1892); Michel Revon, L’Arbitrage international (Paris, 1892); Ferdinand Dreyfus, L’Arbitrage international (Paris, 1894) (where the earlier authorities are collected); A. Merignhac, Traité de l’arbitrage international (Paris, 1895); Le Chevalier Descamps, Essai sur l’organisation de l’arbitrage international (Bruxelles, 1896); Feraud-Giraud, Des Traités d’arbitrage international général et permanent, Revue de droit international (Bruxelles. 1897); Pasicrisie International, by Senator H. Lafontaine (Berne, 1902); Recueils d’actes et protocols de la cour permanente d’Arbitrage, Langenhuysen Frères, the Hague.

Authorities.—Some notable works include: Kamarowsky, The International Tribunal (translated by Serge de Westman) (Paris, 1887); Rouard de Card, The Fates of International Arbitration, from the Ruling Given by the Geneva Tribunal (Paris, 1892); Michel Revon, International Arbitration (Paris, 1892); Ferdinand Dreyfus, International Arbitration (Paris, 1894) (where earlier works are compiled); A. Merignhac, Treatise on International Arbitration (Paris, 1895); Le Chevalier Descamps, Essay on the Organization of International Arbitration (Brussels, 1896); Feraud-Giraud, On General and Permanent International Arbitration Treaties, Review of International Law (Brussels, 1897); International Pasicrisie, by Senator H. Lafontaine (Bern, 1902); Collections of Acts and Protocols of the Permanent Court of Arbitration, Langenhuysen Frères, The Hague.

Of works in English there is a singular dearth. The most important is by an American, J.B. Moore, History of the International Arbitrations to which the United States has been a Party (Washington, 1898). The appendices to this work (which is in six volumes) contain, with much other matter of great value, full historical notes of arbitrations between other powers. Arbitration and mediation will be found briefly noticed in Phillimore’s International Law; in Sir Henry Maine’s Lectures, delivered in Cambridge in 1887; in W.E. Hall’s International Law, and more at length in an interesting paper contributed by John Westlake to the International Journal of Ethics, October 1896, which its author has reprinted privately. A London journal, The Herald of Peace and International Arbitration, issued some years ago a list of instances in which arbitration or mediation had been successfully resorted to during the 19th century. David Dudley Field, of New York, subsequently enlarged this list, which has been continued under the title International Tribunals, by Dr W. Evans Darby, and is published, along with the texts of several projects for general arbitration, at the offices of the Peace Society, 47 New Broad Street, London.

There is a notable lack of works in English. The most significant one is by an American, J.B. Moore, History of the International Arbitrations to which the United States has been a Party (Washington, 1898). The appendices of this six-volume work include, along with much other valuable content, detailed historical notes on arbitrations between other countries. Arbitration and mediation are briefly mentioned in Phillimore’s International Law; in Sir Henry Maine’s Lectures, given in Cambridge in 1887; in W.E. Hall’s International Law, and more extensively in an engaging paper by John Westlake published in the International Journal of Ethics, October 1896, which the author has reprinted privately. A London journal, The Herald of Peace and International Arbitration, previously published a list of cases where arbitration or mediation was successfully used during the 19th century. David Dudley Field from New York later expanded this list, which has since been updated under the title International Tribunals by Dr. W. Evans Darby, and is available, along with the texts of several general arbitration proposals, at the offices of the Peace Society, 47 New Broad Street, London.

(M. H. C.)

ARBITRATION AND CONCILIATION. The terms “arbitration and conciliation” as employed in this article, are used to describe a group of methods of settling disputes between employers and work-people or among two or more sets of work-people, of which the common feature is the intervention of some outside party not directly affected by the dispute. If the parties agree beforehand to abide by the award of the third party, the mode of settlement is described as “arbitration.” If there be no such agreement, but the offices of the mediator are used to promote an amicable arrangement between the parties themselves, the process is described as “conciliation.” The third party may be one or more disinterested individuals, or a joint-board representative of the parties or of other bodies or persons.

ARBITRATION AND CONCILIATION. The terms “arbitration and conciliation” used in this article refer to a group of methods for resolving disputes between employers and employees or among different groups of employees. The key aspect is the involvement of an outside party who is not directly affected by the dispute. If the parties agree in advance to follow the decision of the third party, this process is called “arbitration.” If there is no such agreement and a mediator is brought in to help the parties reach an amicable solution, this is known as “conciliation.” The third party can be one or more impartial individuals, or a joint board representing the parties or other entities.

The process here termed “arbitration” is rarely an arbitration in the strict legal sense of the term (at least in the United Kingdom), because of the defective legal personality of the associations or groups of individuals who are usually parties to labour disputes, and the consequent absence in the great majority of cases of a valid legal “submission” of the difference to arbitration. Whether or not trade unions of employers or workmen in the United Kingdom are capable of entering through their agents into contracts which are legally binding on their members it is fairly certain that the great majority of the agreements actually made by the representatives of employers and workmen to submit a dispute to the decision of a third party are of no legal force except as regards the actual signatories. Broadly speaking, therefore, the provisions of the Arbitration Act 1889, which consolidated the law relating to arbitration in general, would as a rule have no application to the settlement of collective disputes between employers and workmen, even if the act had not been expressly excluded by section 3 of the Conciliation Act of 1896 in the case of disputes to which that act applies. Besides the absence of a legal “submission,” labour arbitrations differ from ordinary arbitrations in the fact that the questions referred often (though by no means always) relate to the terms on which future contracts shall be made, whereas the vast majority of ordinary arbitrations relate to questions arising out of existing contracts. The defective “personality” of the parties to labour disputes also prevents the enforcement of an award by legal penalties. Since, however, difficulties of enforcement affect not only settlements arrived at by arbitration, but all agreements between bodies of employers and work-people with regard to the terms of employment, they are most appropriately considered at a later stage of this article.

The process referred to as “arbitration” here isn’t truly arbitration in the strict legal sense (at least in the UK) due to the limited legal status of the associations or groups involved in labor disputes, leading to a lack of valid legal “submission” of the issue for arbitration in most cases. While it’s somewhat uncertain whether trade unions of employers or workers in the UK can legally bind their members through contracts made by their agents, it is clear that most agreements made by representatives of employers and workers to have a dispute decided by a third party hold no legal power except for the actual signatories involved. Generally speaking, the Arbitration Act of 1889, which streamlined the laws related to arbitration, typically does not apply to resolving collective disputes between employers and workers, even if it hadn't been specifically excluded by section 3 of the Conciliation Act of 1896 for disputes covered by that act. In addition to the lack of a legal “submission,” labor arbitrations differ from standard arbitrations mainly because the issues addressed often (but not always) pertain to the terms of future contracts, whereas most regular arbitrations deal with issues arising from existing contracts. The limited “personality” of the parties in labor disputes also makes it hard to enforce an award through legal penalties. However, since enforcement difficulties impact not only settlements from arbitration but all agreements between groups of employers and workers concerning employment terms, they will be more appropriately discussed later in this article.

The term “conciliation” is ordinarily used to cover a large number of methods of settlement, shading off in the one direction into “arbitration” and in the other into ordinary direct negotiation between the parties. In some cases conciliation only differs from arbitration in the absence of a previous agreement to accept the award. The German “Gewerbegerichten,” when dealing with labour disputes, communicate a decision to both parties, who must notify their acceptance or otherwise (see below). Some of the state boards in America take similar action. The conciliation boards established under the New Zealand Arbitration Act of 1894 (see below) make recommendations, though either side may decline to accept them and may appeal to the court of arbitration, which in that colony has compulsory powers. Most frequently, however, in Great Britain, the mediating party abstains from pronouncing a definite judgment of his own, but confines himself to friendly suggestions with a view of removing obstacles to an agreement between the parties. On the other hand, it is not easy to define how far the “outside party” must be independent of the parties to the dispute, in order that the method of settlement may be properly described as “conciliation.” There is a sense in which a friendly conversation between an employer or his manager and a deputation of aggrieved workmen is rightly described as “conciliation,” but such an interview would certainly not be covered by the term as ordinarily used at the present day. Again, when the parties are represented by agents (e.g. the officials of an employers’ association and of a trade union) the actual negotiators or some of them may not personally be affected by the particular dispute, and may often exercise some of the functions of the mediator or conciliator in a manner not clearly to be distinguished from the action of an outside party. It seems best, however, to exclude such negotiations from our purview so long as those between whom they are carried on merely act as the authorized agents for the parties affected. In the same way, a meeting arranged ad hoc between delegates of an employers’ association and a trade union, for the purpose of arranging differences as to the terms on which the members of the association shall employ members of the union is not usually classed as “conciliation,” unless the meeting is held in the presence of an independent chairman or conciliator, or in pursuance of a permanent agreement between the associations laying down the procedure for the settlement of disputes. If, however, the dispute is considered and arranged not by a casual meeting between two committees and deputations appointed ad hoc, but by a permanently organized “joint committee” or board with a constitution, rules of procedure and officers of its own, the process of settlement is by ordinary usage described as “conciliation,” even though the board be entirely representative of the persons engaged in the industry. Such joint boards, as will be seen, play a most important part in conciliation at the present day, and they almost always have attached to them some machinery for the ultimate decision by arbitration of questions on which they fail to agree. Another form of conciliation is that in which the mediating board represents a wider group of industries than those affected by the dispute (e.g. the London 332 and other “district” boards referred to below). Moreover, in some of the most important cases of settlement of disputes by conciliation, the mediating party has not been a permanent board but a disinterested individual, e.g. the mayor, county court judge, government official or member of parliament. As will be seen below, the Conciliation Act now provides for the appointment of “conciliators” by the Board of Trade.

The term “conciliation” typically refers to a wide range of settlement methods, blending into “arbitration” on one side and straightforward direct negotiation between the parties on the other. In some instances, conciliation only differs from arbitration in that there’s no prior agreement to accept the decision. The German “Gewerbegerichten,” when addressing labor disputes, send a decision to both parties, who then must indicate whether they accept it. Some state boards in the U.S. do something similar. The conciliation boards set up under the New Zealand Arbitration Act of 1894 (see below) make recommendations, but either party can refuse them and appeal to the arbitration court, which has compulsory powers in that region. Most often, though, in Great Britain, the mediating party refrains from making a definitive judgment of their own, offering friendly suggestions instead, aimed at overcoming the barriers to an agreement between the parties. On the flip side, it's challenging to define how independent the “outside party” must be from the disputing parties for the settlement method to be accurately called “conciliation.” A friendly chat between an employer or their manager and a group of unhappy workers might be called “conciliation,” but such a meeting wouldn’t typically fit the term as used today. Additionally, when the parties are represented by agents (like officials from an employers’ association and a trade union), the negotiators might not be directly affected by the specific dispute and can sometimes act like mediators in ways that are hard to distinguish from an outside party's role. However, it’s generally better to disregard those negotiations as long as those involved are merely acting as authorized agents for the affected parties. Similarly, a meeting set up ad hoc between representatives of an employers’ association and a trade union to settle differences on employment terms for union members isn’t usually classified as “conciliation” unless it happens with an independent chairperson or conciliator present, or as part of a permanent agreement that outlines the dispute resolution procedure. However, if the dispute is managed not by a casual meeting of two committees but by a permanently organized “joint committee” or board with its own constitution, procedures, and officers, the settlement process is typically referred to as “conciliation,” even if the board solely represents those in the industry. As will be shown, such joint boards now play a vital role in conciliation, and they almost always have mechanisms for final arbitration on issues where they can’t reach an agreement. Another type of conciliation involves a mediating board that represents a broader range of industries than those directly impacted by the dispute (like the London 332 and other “district” boards mentioned below). Furthermore, in some of the most significant cases of dispute resolution via conciliation, the mediating party has not been a permanent board but an impartial individual, for example, a mayor, county court judge, government official, or member of parliament. As will be discussed below, the Conciliation Act now allows for the appointment of “conciliators” by the Board of Trade.

Voluntary trade boards, however (i.e. permanent joint boards representing employers and work-people in particular trades), are at once the most firmly established and the most important agencies in Great Britain for the prevention and settlement of labour disputes. Among the earliest of such bodies was the board of arbitration in the Macclesfield silk trade, formed in 1849, in imitation of the French “Conseils de Prud’hommes,” but which only lasted four years. The first board, however, which attained any degree of permanent success was that established for the hosiery and glove trade in Nottingham in 1860, through the efforts of A.J. Mundella. In 1864 a board was established in the Wolverhampton building trades, with Rupert Kettle as chairman, and in 1868 boards were formed for the pottery trade, the Leicester hosiery trade and the Nottingham lace trade. In 1869 there was formed one of the most important of the still existing boards, viz. the board of arbitration and conciliation in the manufactured iron and steel trades of the north of England, with which the names of Rupert Kettle, David Dale and others are associated. In 1872 and 1873 joint committees were formed in the Durham and Northumberland coal trades to deal with local questions. The Leicester boot and shoe trade board, the first of an elaborate system of local boards in this trade, was founded in 1875. From about 1870 onwards there was a great movement for the establishment of “sliding scales” in the coal and iron and steel trades, which by regulating wages automatically rendered unnecessary the settlement of general wages by conciliation or arbitration. These sliding scales, however, usually had attached to them joint committees for dealing with disputed questions. A sliding scale arranged by David Dale was attached to the manufactured iron trade board in 1871. A sliding scale for the Cleveland blast furnacemen came into force in 1879. Sliding scales were also adopted in the coal trade in many districts, e.g. South Wales (1875), Durham (1877) and Northumberland (1879). The movement was, however, followed by a reaction, and several of the sliding scales in the coal trade were terminated between 1887 and 1889. In 1902 the last surviving sliding scale in the coal trade, viz. in South Wales, ceased to exist and was replaced by a conciliation board.

Voluntary trade boards, which are permanent joint boards representing employers and workers in specific trades, are the most established and crucial agencies in Great Britain for preventing and resolving labor disputes. One of the earliest of these was the arbitration board in the Macclesfield silk trade, formed in 1849, inspired by the French "Conseils de Prud’hommes," but it only lasted four years. The first board that achieved lasting success was established in 1860 for the hosiery and glove trade in Nottingham, thanks to A.J. Mundella's efforts. In 1864, a board was created for the Wolverhampton building trades, chaired by Rupert Kettle, and in 1868 boards were formed for the pottery trade, the Leicester hosiery trade, and the Nottingham lace trade. In 1869, one of the most important boards still in existence today was established, namely the board of arbitration and conciliation for the manufactured iron and steel trades in the north of England, associated with names like Rupert Kettle and David Dale. In 1872 and 1873, joint committees were formed in the Durham and Northumberland coal trades to address local issues. The Leicester boot and shoe trade board, the first in a more extensive system of local boards in this trade, was founded in 1875. From around 1870, there was a significant movement to establish "sliding scales" in the coal and iron and steel trades, which automatically adjusted wages and made the need for settling general wages through conciliation or arbitration unnecessary. However, these sliding scales usually included joint committees to handle disputes. A sliding scale created by David Dale was linked to the manufactured iron trade board in 1871. In 1879, a sliding scale for Cleveland blast furnacemen was implemented. Sliding scales were also adopted in the coal trade in various areas, such as South Wales (1875), Durham (1877), and Northumberland (1879). However, this movement faced a backlash, and several sliding scales in the coal trade were terminated between 1887 and 1889. By 1902, the last remaining sliding scale in the coal trade, specifically in South Wales, ceased to exist and was replaced by a conciliation board.

The formation on a large scale of conciliation boards in the coal trade to fix the rate of wages dates from the great miners’ dispute of 1893, one of the terms of settlement agreed to at the conference held at the foreign office under Lord Rosebery being the formation of a conciliation board covering the districts affected. Northumberland followed in 1894, Durham in 1895, Scotland in 1900 and South Wales in 1903.

The establishment of large-scale conciliation boards in the coal trade to set wage rates started with the major miners’ dispute in 1893. One of the terms of the settlement agreed upon during the conference at the foreign office under Lord Rosebery was the creation of a conciliation board for the affected districts. Northumberland set up its board in 1894, Durham in 1895, Scotland in 1900, and South Wales in 1903.

In 1907 an important scheme for the formation of conciliation boards for railway companies and their employees was adopted as the result of the action taken by the president of the Board of Trade to prevent a general strike of railway servants in that year. Under this scheme separate boards (sectional and general) were to be formed for the employees of each railway company which adhered to the scheme, with provision for reference in case of a deadlock to an umpire.

In 1907, an important plan was put in place to create conciliation boards for railway companies and their employees. This action was taken by the president of the Board of Trade to avoid a general strike by railway workers that year. According to this plan, separate boards (both sectional and general) were to be established for the employees of each railway company that signed on to the plan, with a provision to refer disputes to an umpire in case of a deadlock.

The first general district board to be formed was that established in London in 1890, through the London chamber of commerce, as a sequel to the Mansion House committee which mediated in the great London dock strike of 1889. The example was followed by several large towns, but the action taken by the boards in most of these provincial districts has been very limited.

The first general district board was set up in London in 1890, created by the London chamber of commerce, following the Mansion House committee that intervened during the major London dock strike of 1889. This inspired several large towns to do the same, but the initiatives taken by the boards in most of these local areas have been quite restricted.

In addition there are two boards composed of representatives of co-operators and trade-unionists for the settlement of disputes arising between co-operative societies and their employees.

In addition, there are two boards made up of representatives from cooperatives and trade unions to settle disputes that come up between cooperative societies and their employees.

The most typical form of machinery for the settlement of disputes by voluntary conciliation is a joint board consisting of equal numbers of representatives of employers and employed. The members of the board are usually Constitution and functions of voluntary conciliation boards. elected by the associations of employers and workmen, though in some cases (e.g. in the manufactured iron trade board) the workmen’s representatives are elected not by their trade union but by meetings of workmen employed at the various works. The chairman may be an independent person, or, more usually, a representative of the employers, the vice-chairman being a representative of the workmen. In the arbitration and conciliation boards in the boot and shoe trade, provision is made by which the chair may be occupied by representatives of the employers and workmen in alternate years. An independent chairman usually has a casting vote, which practically makes him an umpire in case of equal voting, but where there is no outside chairman there is often provision for reference of cases on which the board cannot agree to an umpire, who may either be a permanent officer of the board elected for a period of time (as in the case of several of the boards in the boot and shoe trade), or selected ad hoc by the board or appointed by some outside person or body. Thus the choice of the permanent chairman or umpire of the miners’ conciliation board, formed in pursuance of the settlement of the coal dispute of 1893 by Lord Rosebery, was left to the speaker of the House of Commons. The nomination of umpires under the Railway Agreement of 1907 was left to the speaker and the master of the rolls. Since the passing of the Conciliation Act, several conciliation boards have provided in their rules for the appointment of umpires by the Board of Trade.

The most common setup for resolving disputes through voluntary conciliation is a joint board made up of equal numbers of representatives from employers and employees. The board members are typically elected by the associations of employers and workers, although in some cases (e.g., in the manufactured iron trade board), the workers’ representatives are chosen not by their trade union, but by meetings of workers at the different workplaces. The chairperson is often an independent individual or, more commonly, a representative of the employers, while the vice-chairperson is a representative of the workers. In the arbitration and conciliation boards for the boot and shoe industry, there are provisions for the chair position to alternate annually between representatives of employers and workers. An independent chair usually has a tie-breaking vote, effectively acting as an umpire if there's an even split in votes. However, when there’s no external chair, there are often rules in place that allow cases where the board can't reach an agreement to be referred to an umpire. This umpire can either be a permanent board officer elected for a set term (as seen in some boot and shoe trade boards) or selected ad hoc by the board or appointed by an outside entity. For instance, the appointment of the permanent chair or umpire for the miners’ conciliation board, established after the coal dispute settlement in 1893 by Lord Rosebery, was entrusted to the Speaker of the House of Commons. Similarly, under the Railway Agreement of 1907, the appointment of umpires was also assigned to the Speaker and the Master of the Rolls. Since the Conciliation Act was passed, several conciliation boards have included rules for appointing umpires through the Board of Trade.

Conciliation boards constituted as described above usually have rules providing that there shall always be equality of voting as between employer and workmen, in spite of the casual absence of individuals on one side or the other. In order to expedite business it is sometimes provided that all questions shall be first considered by a sub-committee, with power to settle them by agreement before coming before the full board. Boards of conciliation and arbitration conforming more or less to the above type exist in the coal, iron and steel, boot and shoe and other industries in the United Kingdom. A somewhat different form of organization has prevailed in the cotton-spinning trade (since the dispute of 1892-1893) and in the engineering trade (since the engineering dispute of 1897-1898). In these important industries there are no permanent boards for the settlement of general questions, but elaborate agreements are in force between the employers’ and workmen’s organizations which among other things prescribe the mode in which questions at issue shall be dealt with and if possible settled. In the first place, if the question cannot be settled between the employer and his workmen, it is dealt with by the local associations or committees or their officials, and failing a settlement in this manner, is referred to a joint meeting of the executive committees of the two associations. In neither agreement is there any provision for the ultimate decision of unsettled questions by arbitration. The agreement in the cotton trade is known as the “Brooklands Agreement,” and a large number of questions have been amicably settled under its provisions. In the building trade, it is very customary for the local “working rules,” agreed to mutually by employers and employed in particular districts, to contain “conciliation rules” providing for the reference of disputed questions to a joint committee with or without an ultimate reference to arbitration. Yet another form of voluntary board is the “district board,” consisting in most cases of representatives elected in equal numbers by the local chamber of commerce and trades council respectively. In the case, however, of the London Conciliation Board the workmen’s representatives are elected, twelve by specially summoned meetings of trade union delegates and two by co-optation. The functions of district boards are to deal with disputes in any trade which may occur within their districts, and of course they can only take action with the consent of both parties to the dispute, in this respect differing from the majority of “trade” boards, which, as a rule, are empowered by the agreement under which they are constituted 333 to deal with questions on the application of either party. Another interesting type of board is that representing two or more groups of workmen and sometimes their employers, with the object of settling “demarcation” disputes between the groups of workmen (i.e. questions as to the limits of the work which each group may claim to perform). Examples of such boards are those representing shipwrights and joiners on the Clyde, Tyne and elsewhere. While the arrangements for voluntary conciliation and arbitration differ in this way in various industries, there is an equally wide variation in the character and range of questions which the boards are empowered to determine. For example, some boards in the coal trade (e.g. the conciliation boards in Northumberland and the so-called “Federated Districts”) deal solely with the general rate of wages. Others, e.g. the “joint committee” in Northumberland and Durham, confine their attention solely to local questions not affecting the counties as a whole. The Durham conciliation board deals with any general or county questions. This distinction between “general” and “local” questions corresponds nearly, though not entirely, to the distinction often drawn between questions of the terms of future employment and of the interpretation of existing agreements. Some conciliation boards are unlimited as regards the scope of the questions which they may consider. This was formerly the case with the boards in the boot and shoe trade, but under the “terms of settlement” of the dispute in 1895 drawn up at the Board of Trade, certain classes of questions (e.g. the employment of particular individuals, the adoption of piece-work or time-work, &c.) were wholly or partially withdrawn from their consideration, and any decision of a board contravening the “terms of settlement” is null and void. A special feature in the procedure for conciliation and arbitration in the boot and shoe trade, is the deposit by each party of £1000 with trustees, as a financial guarantee for the performance of agreements and awards. A certain class of conciliation boards, mostly in the Midland metal trades, were attached to “alliances” of employers and employed, having for their object the regulation of production and of prices (e.g. the Bedstead Trade Wages Board). None of these alliances, however, have survived.

Conciliation boards set up as described above usually have rules ensuring that there is always equal voting between employers and workers, even if individuals from either side are absent. To speed up proceedings, it’s sometimes arranged that all questions be first reviewed by a sub-committee that has the authority to settle issues through mutual agreement before they go to the full board. Boards of conciliation and arbitration that follow this model exist in the coal, iron, and steel, boot and shoe, and other industries in the United Kingdom. A slightly different organization style has emerged in the cotton-spinning industry (since the dispute of 1892-1893) and in the engineering industry (since the engineering dispute of 1897-1898). In these major industries, there are no permanent boards for resolving general issues; instead, detailed agreements are in place between employers’ and workers’ organizations that outline how disputes should be handled and resolved when possible. First, if a dispute cannot be settled between the employer and workers, it is addressed by local associations or committees or their officials, and if that fails, it goes to a joint meeting of the executive committees of the two associations. Neither agreement includes a provision for final arbitration of unresolved issues. The agreement in the cotton industry is called the “Brooklands Agreement,” and many disputes have been resolved amicably under its guidelines. In the construction industry, it’s quite common for the local “working rules,” mutually agreed upon by employers and workers in specific areas, to include “conciliation rules” that allow disputed questions to be sent to a joint committee, possibly with a final referral to arbitration. Another type of voluntary board is the “district board,” typically made up of representatives equally elected by the local chamber of commerce and the trades council. However, in the London Conciliation Board, workers’ representatives are chosen, with twelve elected by specially called meetings of trade union delegates and two by co-optation. The role of district boards is to handle disputes in any trade that arise within their areas, and they can only act with the agreement of both parties to the dispute, which sets them apart from most “trade” boards that generally have the authority to address questions raised by either side. Another interesting type of board represents two or more groups of workers and sometimes their employers, aiming to resolve “demarcation” disputes between the groups (i.e., questions about the tasks each group can claim to perform). Examples include boards for shipwrights and joiners in the Clyde, Tyne, and other locations. While voluntary conciliation and arbitration structures vary across industries, there’s also significant diversity in the types of issues the boards are authorized to address. For instance, some boards in the coal industry (e.g., the conciliation boards in Northumberland and the so-called “Federated Districts”) focus solely on the overall wage rate. Others, such as the “joint committee” in Northumberland and Durham, concentrate exclusively on local issues that don’t impact the entire counties. The Durham conciliation board addresses any general or county-related questions. This distinction between “general” and “local” issues approximately, though not entirely, aligns with the differentiation often made between questions about future employment terms and the interpretation of current agreements. Some conciliation boards do not have limits on the types of questions they can consider. This was previously true for boards in the boot and shoe trade, but under the "terms of settlement" for the dispute in 1895 established at the Board of Trade, certain categories of questions (e.g., the hiring of specific individuals, the switch to piece-work or time-work, etc.) were completely or partially excluded from their purview, and any decision by a board that contravenes these "terms of settlement" is considered null and void. A unique aspect of the conciliation and arbitration process in the boot and shoe trade is that each party must deposit £1000 with trustees as a financial guarantee for adhering to agreements and decisions. A specific type of conciliation board, mostly in the Midland metal trades, was connected to “alliances” of employers and employees aimed at managing production and pricing (e.g., the Bedstead Trade Wages Board). However, none of these alliances have lasted.

At all events up to the year 1896, the development of arbitration and conciliation as methods of settling labour disputes in the United Kingdom was entirely independent of any legislation. Previously to the Conciliation Act of Legislation in the United Kingdom. 1896 several attempts had been made by parliament to promote arbitration and conciliation, but with little or no practical result, and the act of 1896 repealed all previous legislation on the subject, at the same time excluding the operation of the Arbitration Act of 1889 from the settlement of “any difference or dispute to which this act applies.” The laws repealed by the Conciliation Act need only a few words of mention. During the 18th century the fixing of wages by magistrates under the Elizabethan legislation gradually decayed, and acts of 1745 and 1757 gave summary jurisdiction to justices of the peace to determine disputes between masters and servants in certain circumstances, although no rate of wages had been fixed that year by the justices of the peace of the shire. These and other laws, relating specially to disputes in the cotton-weaving trade, were consolidated and amended by the Arbitration Act of 1824. This act seems chiefly to have been aimed at disputes relating to piece-work in the textile trades, though applicable to other disputes arising out of a wages contract. It expressly excluded, however, the fixing of a rate of wages or price of labour or workmanship at which the workmen should in future be paid unless with the mutual consent of both master and workmen. The act gave compulsory powers of settling the disputes to which it relates on application of either party to a court of arbitrators representing employers and workmen nominated by a magistrate. The award could be enforced by distress or imprisonment. The act was subsequently amended in detail, and by the “Councils of Conciliation” Act of 1867 power was given to the home secretary to license “equitable councils of conciliation and arbitration” equally representative of masters and workmen, who should thereupon have the powers conferred by the act of 1824. The act contains provisions for the appointment of conciliation committees, and other details which are of little interest seeing that the act was never put into operation. Another amendment of the act of 1824 was made by the Arbitration (Masters and Workmen) Act of 1872, which contemplated the conclusion of agreements between employers and employed, designating some board of arbitration by which disputes included within the scope of the former acts should be determined. A master or workman should be deemed to be bound by an agreement under the act, if he accepted a printed copy of the agreement and did not repudiate it within forty-eight hours. Like the previous legislation, however, the act of 1872 was inoperative. The evidence given before the Royal Commission on Labour (1891-1894) disclosed the existence of a considerable body of opinion in favour of some further action by the state for the prevention or settlement of labour disputes, and some impetus was given to the movement by the settlement through official mediation of several important disputes, e.g. the great coal-miners’ dispute of 1893 by a conference presided over by Lord Rosebery, the cab-drivers’ dispute of 1894 by the mediation of the home secretary (H.H. Asquith), and the boot and shoe trade dispute of 1895 by a Board of Trade conference under the chairmanship of Sir Courtenay Boyle. In these, and a few other less important cases, the intervention of the Board of Trade or other department took place without any special statutory sanction. The Conciliation Act passed in 1896 was framed with a view to giving express authorization to such action in the future.

Up until 1896, the development of arbitration and conciliation as ways to resolve labor disputes in the United Kingdom was completely independent of any legislation. Before the Conciliation Act of UK Legislation. 1896, there had been several attempts by parliament to encourage arbitration and conciliation, but these efforts had little to no practical impact. The 1896 act repealed all previous legislation on the topic and also excluded the Arbitration Act of 1889 from applying to any "difference or dispute to which this act applies." The laws repealed by the Conciliation Act only need a brief mention. During the 18th century, the practice of magistrates setting wages under the Elizabethan laws gradually faded away, and acts from 1745 and 1757 gave justices of the peace the authority to resolve disputes between employers and employees in specific situations, even though the justices had not established any wage rate that year. These and other laws concerning disputes specifically in the cotton-weaving industry were consolidated and modified by the Arbitration Act of 1824. This act mainly targeted disputes regarding piece-work in the textile trades but was also applicable to other issues arising from wage contracts. However, it expressly excluded the establishment of a wage rate or labor price that workers would be paid in the future unless both the employer and the employees agreed. The act provided compulsory powers for settling these disputes via a court of arbitrators representing both employers and employees, appointed by a magistrate. The decisions could be enforced by confiscation or imprisonment. The act was later amended in detail, and through the "Councils of Conciliation" Act of 1867, the home secretary was given the authority to license "equitable councils of conciliation and arbitration" which would equally represent both employers and employees, thus gaining the powers conferred by the 1824 act. This act included provisions for setting up conciliation committees and other details that are of little interest, as the act was never put into action. Another amendment to the 1824 act was made by the Arbitration (Masters and Workmen) Act of 1872, which anticipated agreements between employers and employees, specifying a board of arbitration to resolve disputes covered by the previous acts. An employer or employee would be considered bound by an agreement under this act if they accepted a printed copy of the agreement and did not reject it within forty-eight hours. However, like earlier legislation, the 1872 act was also non-operational. Evidence presented to the Royal Commission on Labour (1891-1894) revealed significant support for further state intervention to prevent or resolve labor disputes, and the movement gained some momentum from the resolution of several major disputes through official mediation, such as the significant coal-miners’ dispute of 1893 mediated by Lord Rosebery, the cab-drivers’ dispute of 1894 mediated by the home secretary (H.H. Asquith), and the boot and shoe trade dispute of 1895 mediated by a Board of Trade conference chaired by Sir Courtenay Boyle. In these and a few other less significant cases, the involvement of the Board of Trade or other departments occurred without any special legal authorization. The Conciliation Act passed in 1896 was designed to explicitly authorize such actions in the future.

This act is of a purely voluntary character. Its most important provisions are those of section 2, empowering the Board of Trade in cases “where a difference exists or is apprehended between any employer, or any class of employers, and workmen, or between different classes of workmen,” to take certain steps to promote a settlement of the difference. They may of their own initiative hold an inquiry or endeavour to arrange a meeting between the parties under a chairman mutually agreed on or appointed from the outside, and on the application of either party they may appoint a conciliator or a board of conciliation who shall communicate with the parties and endeavour to bring about a settlement and report their proceedings to the Board of Trade. On the application of both parties the Board of Trade may appoint an arbitrator. In all cases the Board of Trade has discretion as to the action to be taken, and there is no provision either for compelling the parties to accept their mediation or to abide by any agreement effected through their intervention. There are other provisions in the act providing for the registration of voluntary conciliation boards, and for the promotion by the Board of Trade of the formation of such boards in districts and trades in which they are deficient. During the first eleven years after the passage of the act the number of cases arising under section 2 (providing for action by the Board of Trade for the settlement of actual or apprehended disputes) averaged twenty-one per annum, and the number of settlements effected fifteen. In the remaining cases the Board of Trade either refused to entertain the application or failed to effect a settlement, or the disputes were settled between the parties during the negotiations. About three-quarters of the settlements were effected by arbitration and one-quarter by conciliation. A number of voluntary conciliation boards formed or reorganized since the passing of the act provide in their rules for an appeal to the Board of Trade to appoint an umpire in case of a deadlock. At least thirty-six trade boards are known to have already adopted this course. The figures given above show that the Conciliation Act of 1896 has not, like previous legislation, been a dead letter, though the number of actual disputes settled is small compared with the total number annually recorded.

This act is completely voluntary. Its key provisions are in section 2, which allows the Board of Trade to step in when there’s a disagreement or potential disagreement between any employer or group of employers and workers, or among different groups of workers, to help settle the issue. They can independently hold an inquiry or try to set up a meeting between the involved parties, led by a mutually agreed upon chairperson or someone from outside. If either side asks, they can appoint a conciliator or a conciliation board to communicate with both sides and work toward a settlement, then report back to the Board of Trade. If both parties agree, the Board of Trade can appoint an arbitrator. In all instances, the Board of Trade has the discretion to decide what action to take, and there’s no requirement for the parties to accept their mediation or stick to any agreements made through their involvement. There are additional provisions in the act for registering voluntary conciliation boards and encouraging the Board of Trade to help establish such boards in areas and industries where they are lacking. In the first eleven years after the act was passed, the average number of cases reported under section 2, which allows the Board of Trade to address current or potential disputes, was twenty-one per year, and there were an average of fifteen settlements. In the other cases, the Board of Trade either chose not to take action or couldn’t reach a settlement, or the parties worked it out themselves during negotiations. About three-quarters of the settlements were reached through arbitration and one-quarter through conciliation. Several voluntary conciliation boards that were formed or restructured since the act was passed include rules that allow for an appeal to the Board of Trade to appoint an umpire if there’s a deadlock. At least thirty-six trade boards are known to have taken this route. The data indicates that the Conciliation Act of 1896 hasn’t been ignored like some previous laws, although the number of actual disputes resolved is small compared to the total recorded each year.

Arbitration and conciliation in labour disputes as practised in the United Kingdom are entirely voluntary, both as regards the initiation and conduct of the negotiations and the carrying out of the agreement resulting therefrom, Proposals for compulsion. In all these respects arbitration, though terminating in what is called a binding award, is on precisely the same legal footing as conciliation, which results in a mutual 334 agreement. Various proposals have been made (and in some cases carried into effect in certain countries) for introducing an element of compulsion into this class of proceeding. There are three stages at which compulsion may conceivably be introduced, (1) The parties may be compelled by law to submit their dispute to some tribunal or board of conciliation; (2) the board of conciliation or arbitration may have power to compel the attendance of witnesses and the production of documents; (3) the parties may be compelled to observe the award of the board of arbitration. The most far-reaching schemes of compulsory arbitration in force in any country are those in force in New Zealand and certain states in Australia. Bills have been introduced into the British House of Commons for clothing voluntary boards of conciliation and arbitration, under certain conditions, with powers to require attendance of witnesses and production of documents, without, however, compelling the parties to submit their disputes to these boards or to abide by their decisions. In the United Kingdom, however, more attention has recently been given to the question of strengthening the sanction for the carrying out of awards and agreements than of compelling the parties to enter into such arrangements. An interesting step towards the solution of the difficulty of enforcement in certain cases is perhaps afforded by the provisions of the terms of settlement of the dispute in the boot and shoe trade drawn up at the Board of Trade in 1895. Under this agreement £1000 was deposited by each party with trustees, who were directed by the trust-deed to pay over to either party, out of the money deposited by the other, any sum which might be awarded as damages by the umpire named in the deed, for the breach of the agreement or of any award made by an arbitration board in consonance with it. Very few claims for damages have been sustained under this agreement. Nevertheless it cannot be doubted that the pecuniary liability of the parties has given stability to the work of the local arbitration boards, and the satisfaction of both sides with the arrangement is shown by the fact that the trust-deed which lapsed in 1900 has been several times renewed by common agreement for successive periods of two years, and is now in force for an indefinite period subject to six months’ notice from either side. Theoretically a trust-deed of this kind can only offer a guarantee up to the point at which the original deposit on one side or the other is exhausted, as it is impossible to compel either party to renew the deposit. A proposal was made by the duke of Devonshire and certain of his colleagues on the Royal Commission on Labour for empowering associations of employers and employed to acquire, if they desired it, sufficient legal personality and corporate character to enable them to sue each other or their own members for breach of agreement. This would give the association aggrieved by a breach of award the power of suing the defaulting organization to recover damages out of their corporate funds, while each association could exact penalties from its members for such a breach. For this reason the suggestion has met with a good deal of support by many interested in arbitration and conciliation, but has been steadily opposed by representatives of the trade unions.

Arbitration and conciliation in labor disputes in the United Kingdom are completely voluntary, both in starting and managing the negotiations and in following through on the resulting agreement, Mandatory proposals. In these respects, arbitration, even though it ends with what’s known as a binding award, is on the same legal level as conciliation, which leads to a mutual 334 agreement. Various proposals have been made (and in some cases implemented in certain countries) to introduce an element of compulsion into this process. There are three stages at which compulsion might be introduced: (1) The parties might be legally required to submit their dispute to a tribunal or board of conciliation; (2) the board of conciliation or arbitration may have the authority to compel witnesses to appear and documents to be provided; (3) the parties may be required to comply with the award of the arbitration board. The most extensive schemes of compulsory arbitration currently in place are in New Zealand and certain states in Australia. Bills have been introduced into the British House of Commons to give voluntary boards of conciliation and arbitration, under certain conditions, the power to require the attendance of witnesses and the production of documents, while not compelling the parties to submit their disputes to these boards or follow their decisions. However, in the United Kingdom, more recent attention has focused on strengthening the enforcement of awards and agreements rather than forcing the parties to engage in such arrangements. An interesting step toward addressing the enforcement issue in some cases is found in the settlement terms of a dispute in the boot and shoe trade, established at the Board of Trade in 1895. Under this agreement, £1000 was deposited by each party with trustees, who were instructed by the trust deed to pay either party, from the amount deposited by the other, any sum awarded as damages by the umpire named in the deed for violating the agreement or any award made by an arbitration board in line with it. Very few claims for damages have been upheld under this agreement. Nonetheless, the financial responsibility that the parties have taken on has added stability to the local arbitration boards' work, and both sides' satisfaction with the arrangement is demonstrated by the fact that the trust deed, which expired in 1900, has been renewed multiple times by mutual agreement for successive two-year periods, and is now in effect indefinitely, subject to six months’ notice from either side. Theoretically, such a trust deed can only provide a guarantee up to the limit of the original deposit on either side, since it is impossible to force either party to renew the deposit. A proposal was made by the Duke of Devonshire and some of his colleagues on the Royal Commission on Labor to empower associations of employers and employees to obtain, if they wished, sufficient legal standing and corporate status to allow them to sue each other or their own members for breach of agreement. This would enable the association affected by a breach of award to sue the defaulting organization for damages from their corporate funds, while each association could impose penalties on its members for such breaches. For this reason, the suggestion has garnered considerable support from those interested in arbitration and conciliation but has faced consistent opposition from trade union representatives.

The question is not free from difficulties. The object of the change would be to convert what are at present only morally binding understandings into legally enforceable contracts. But apart from the possibility that some of such contracts would be held by the courts to be void as being “in restraint of trade,” the tendency might be to give a strict legal interpretation to working agreements which might deprive them of some of their effectiveness for the settlement of the conditions of future contracts between employers and workmen, while possibly deterring associations from entering into such agreements for fear of litigation. Individuals, moreover, could avoid liability by leaving their associations. In practice the cases of repudiation or breach of an award or agreement are not common. In countries like New Zealand, where the parties are compelled to submit their differences to arbitration, some of the above objections do not apply.

The question isn't without its challenges. The goal of the change would be to turn what are currently just morally binding understandings into legally enforceable contracts. However, in addition to the chance that some of these contracts could be deemed void by the courts for being “in restraint of trade,” there might be a tendency to interpret working agreements too strictly, which could undermine their effectiveness in resolving future contract conditions between employers and workers, while potentially discouraging groups from making such agreements due to fear of lawsuits. Plus, individuals could sidestep liability by leaving their groups. In practice, instances of rejecting or breaching an award or agreement are uncommon. In countries like New Zealand, where parties must submit their disputes to arbitration, some of these concerns don't apply.

The following statistics are based on the reports of the Labour department of the Board of Trade. The number of boards of conciliation and arbitration known to be in existence in the United Kingdom is nearly 200, but a good many of Statistics of existing agencies. these do little or no active work. Only about one-third of these boards deal with actual cases in any one year, the active boards being mainly connected with mining, iron and steel, engineering and shipbuilding, boot and shoe and building trades. During the ten years 1897-1906 the total number of cases considered by these boards averaged about 1500 annually, of which they have settled about half, the remainder having been withdrawn, referred back or otherwise settled. About three-quarters of the cases settled were determined by the boards themselves and only one-quarter by umpires. The great majority of the cases settled were purely local questions. Thus more than half the total were dealt with by the “joint committees” in the Northumberland and Durham coal trades, which confine their action to local questions, such as fixing the “hewing prices” for new seams. The great majority of the cases settled did not actually involve stoppage of work, the most useful work of these permanent boards being the prevention rather than the settlement of strikes and lockouts. A certain number of disputes are settled every year by the mediation or arbitration of disinterested individuals, e.g. the local mayor or county court judge.

The following statistics are based on reports from the Labour Department of the Board of Trade. There are nearly 200 boards of conciliation and arbitration known to exist in the United Kingdom, but many of them do very little or no active work. Only about a third of these boards handle actual cases in any given year, with the active boards mostly related to mining, iron and steel, engineering and shipbuilding, footwear, and construction trades. Between 1897 and 1906, these boards averaged around 1,500 cases annually, settling about half of them, while the rest were either withdrawn, referred back, or resolved in other ways. About three-quarters of the settled cases were determined by the boards themselves, with only one-quarter handled by umpires. The vast majority of the settled cases were purely local issues. For instance, over half of the total cases were dealt with by the "joint committees" in the Northumberland and Durham coal trades, which focus on local matters like setting the “hewing prices” for new seams. Most of the settled cases did not actually lead to work stoppages; the main benefit of these permanent boards is the prevention of strikes and lockouts rather than resolving them. Certain disputes are resolved each year through the mediation or arbitration of neutral individuals, such as the local mayor or a county court judge.

The extent to which the methods of arbitration and conciliation can be expected to afford a substitute for strikes and lockouts is one on which opinions differ very widely. The difficulties arising from the impossibility of enforcing Future scope and limits. agreements or awards by legal process have already been discussed. Apart from these, however, it is evident that both methods imply that the parties, especially the work-people, are organized at least to the extent of being capable of negotiating through agents. In some industries (e.g. agriculture or domestic service) this preliminary condition is not satisfied; in others the men’s leaders possess little more than consultative powers, and employers may hesitate to deal either directly or through a third party with individuals or committees who have so little authority over those whom they claim to represent. And even where the trade organizations are strong, some employers refuse in any way to recognize the representative character of the men’s officials. The question of the “recognition” of trade unions by employers is a frequent cause of disputes (see Strikes and Lock-outs.) It may be observed, however, that it often occurs that in cases in which both employers and employed are organized into associations which are accustomed to deal with each other, one or both parties entertain a strong objection to the intervention of any outside mediator, or to the submission of differences to an arbitrator. Thus the engineering employers in 1897 were opposed to any outside intervention, though ready to negotiate with the delegates chosen by the men. On the other hand, the cotton operatives have more than once opposed the proposal of the employers to refer the rate of wages to arbitration, and throughout the great miners’ dispute of 1893 the opposition to arbitration came from the men. Naturally, the party whose organization is the stronger is usually the less inclined to admit outside intervention. But there have also been cases in which employers, who refused to deal directly with trade union officials, have been willing to negotiate with a mediator who was well known to be in communication with these officials, e.g. in the case of the Railway Settlement of 1907.

The degree to which arbitration and conciliation can replace strikes and lockouts varies widely in opinion. The challenges stemming from the inability to enforce agreements or awards through legal means have already been discussed. However, it's clear that both methods require the parties, especially the workers, to be organized to the extent that they can negotiate through representatives. In some industries (e.g., agriculture or domestic service), this basic requirement is not met; in others, the leaders of the workers have little more than advisory powers, and employers may hesitate to negotiate either directly or through a third party with individuals or committees that lack authority over those they claim to represent. Even where trade organizations are strong, some employers refuse to recognize the representatives of the workers. The issue of employers "recognizing" trade unions often leads to disputes (see Strikes and Lock-outs). However, it's worth noting that in cases where both employers and employees are organized in associations that are used to interacting, either party may strongly oppose the involvement of an outside mediator or the referral of disputes to an arbitrator. For instance, engineering employers in 1897 opposed outside intervention but were willing to negotiate with delegates selected by the workers. In contrast, cotton workers have repeatedly resisted employers' proposals to put wage rates to arbitration, and during the major miners’ dispute of 1893, it was the workers who opposed arbitration. Typically, the party with the stronger organization is less willing to accept outside intervention. Nevertheless, there have been instances where employers who refused to engage directly with trade union officials were willing to negotiate with a mediator who was known to be in contact with those officials, such as in the Railway Settlement of 1907.

Apart, however, from the disinclination of one or both parties to allow of any outside intervention, we have to consider how far the nature of the questions in dispute may in any particular case put limits to the applicability of conciliation or arbitration as a method of settlement. Since conciliation is only a general term for the action of a third party in overcoming the obstacles to the conclusion of an agreement by the parties themselves, there is no class of questions which admit of settlement by direct negotiation which may not equally be settled by this method, provided of course that there is an adequate supply of sufficiently skilful mediators. As regards arbitration the case is somewhat different, seeing that in this case the parties agree to be bound by the award of a third party. For the success 335 of arbitration, therefore, it is important that the general principles which should govern the settlement of the particular question at issue should be admitted by both sides. Thus in the manufactured iron trade in the north of England, it has throughout been understood that wages should depend on the prices realized, and the only question which an arbitrator has usually had to decide has been how far the state of prices at the time warranted a particular change of wage. On the other hand, there are many questions on which disputes arise (e.g. the employment of non-union labour, the restriction of piece-work, &c.) on which there is frequently no common agreement as to principles, and an arbitrator may be at a loss to know what considerations he is to take into account in determining his award. Generally speaking, employers are averse from submitting to a third party questions involving discipline and the management of their business, while in some trades workmen have shown themselves opposed to allowing an arbitrator to reduce wages beyond a certain point which they wish to regard as a guaranteed “minimum.”

However, aside from one or both parties being unwilling to allow any outside intervention, we also need to consider how the nature of the issues at hand might limit the use of conciliation or arbitration as a way to resolve conflicts. Since conciliation is just a general term for a third party's role in helping the parties reach an agreement, there's no category of issues that can be settled through direct negotiation that couldn't also be resolved through this method, as long as there are enough skilled mediators available. Arbitration is a bit different because, in this case, the parties agree to be bound by a third party's decision. For arbitration to be successful, it’s essential that both sides accept the general principles that will guide the resolution of the specific issue at stake. For example, in the manufactured iron trade in the north of England, it has always been understood that wages should be based on the prices achieved, and the only question that an arbitrator typically has to decide is how much the current price state justifies a specific wage change. On the other hand, there are many issues that lead to disputes (e.g., the employment of non-union labor, the limitation of piecework, etc.) where there is often no shared agreement on the principles involved, and an arbitrator may struggle to know what factors to consider when making their decision. In general, employers tend to resist submitting issues that involve discipline and business management to a third party, while in some industries, workers have opposed allowing an arbitrator to cut wages below a certain level that they consider a guaranteed “minimum.”

Another objection on the part of some employers and workmen to unrestricted arbitration is its alleged tendency to multiply disputes by providing an easy way of solving them without recourse to strikes or lock-outs, and so diminishing the sense of responsibility in the party advancing the claims. It is also sometimes contended that arbitrators, not being governed in their decisions by a definite code of principles, may tend to “split the difference,” so as to satisfy both sides even when the demands on one side or the other are wholly unwarranted. This, it is said, encourages the formulation of demands purposely put high in order to admit of being cut down by an arbitrator. One of the chief practical difficulties in the way of the successful working of permanent boards of conciliation, consisting of equal numbers of employers and employed, with an umpire in case of deadlock, is the difficulty of inducing business men whose time is fully occupied to devote the necessary time to the work of the boards, especially when either side has it in its power to compel recourse to the umpire, and so render the work of the conciliation board fruitless. In spite of all these difficulties the practice of arranging differences by conciliation and arbitration is undoubtedly spreading, and it is to be remembered that even in cases in which theoretically a basis for arbitration can scarcely be said to exist, recourse to that method may often serve a useful purpose in putting an end to a deadlock of which both parties are tired, though neither cares to own itself beaten.

Another concern from some employers and workers about unrestricted arbitration is that it seems to increase disputes by providing an easy solution that avoids strikes or lockouts, which lessens the sense of responsibility for the party making the claims. It’s also argued that arbitrators, lacking a clear set of guiding principles, might just "split the difference" to please both sides, even when one side's demands are completely unreasonable. This, it’s said, encourages people to make exaggerated claims so they can be reduced by the arbitrator. One of the main practical challenges for the effective operation of permanent boards of conciliation, made up of equal numbers of employers and employees, with an umpire for deadlocks, is getting busy business people to commit the needed time to the boards, especially when either side can force a situation that requires the umpire, making the board's efforts pointless. Despite these challenges, the practice of resolving disputes through conciliation and arbitration is definitely growing, and it's worth noting that even in cases where there seems to be no basis for arbitration, turning to this method can often help break a deadlock that both parties are tired of, even if neither wants to admit defeat.

New Zealand.—The New Zealand Industrial Conciliation and Arbitration Act 1894 is important as the first practical attempt of any importance to enforce compulsory arbitration in trade disputes. The original act was amended by several subsequent measures, and the law has been more than once consolidated. The law provides for the incorporation of associations of employers or workmen under the title of industrial unions, and for the creation in each district of a joint conciliation board, elected by these industrial unions, with an impartial chairman elected by the board, to which a dispute may be referred by any party, a strike or lock-out being thenceforth illegal. If the recommendation of the conciliation board is not accepted by either party, the matter goes to a court of arbitration consisting of two persons representing employers and workmen respectively, and a judge of the supreme court. Up to 1901 disputes were ordinarily required to go first to a board of conciliation except by agreement of the parties, but now either party may carry a dispute direct to the arbitration court. The amendment was adopted because it was found in practice that the great majority of cases went ultimately to the arbitration court, and conciliation board proceedings were often mere waste of time. The award of the court is enforceable by legal process, financial penalties up to £500 being recoverable from defaulting associations or individuals. If the property of an association is insufficient to pay the penalty, its members are individually liable up to £10 each. It is the duty of factory inspectors to see that awards are obeyed. The law provides for the extension of awards to related trades, to employers entering the industry hereafter, and in some cases to a whole industry.

New Zealand.—The New Zealand Industrial Conciliation and Arbitration Act of 1894 is significant as the first major effort to enforce mandatory arbitration in labor disputes. The original act has been amended several times, and the law has been consolidated multiple times. It allows for the incorporation of employer and worker associations called industrial unions, and establishes a joint conciliation board in each district, elected by these unions, with an impartial chairman appointed by the board. Any party can refer a dispute to this board, making strikes or lockouts illegal thereafter. If either party rejects the conciliation board's recommendation, the issue escalates to an arbitration court consisting of two representatives—one from employers and one from workers—and a judge from the supreme court. Before 1901, disputes typically had to go through a board of conciliation unless both parties agreed otherwise, but now either party can take a dispute directly to the arbitration court. This amendment was made because it became clear that most cases eventually ended up in the arbitration court, and conciliation board meetings often turned out to be a waste of time. The court's ruling is enforceable through legal action, with financial penalties of up to £500 recoverable from non-compliant associations or individuals. If an association's assets aren't enough to cover the penalty, its members are individually liable for up to £10 each. It's the responsibility of factory inspectors to ensure that awards are followed. The law also provides for extending awards to related trades, employers entering the industry in the future, and in some cases, to an entire industry.

The above is only an outline of the principal provisions of this law, under which questions of wages, hours and the relations of employers and workmen generally in New Zealand (q.v.) industries became practically the subject of state regulation. The act must more properly be judged as a measure for the state regulation of industry, but as a method of putting an end to labour disputes its success has only been partial.

The above is just a summary of the main points of this law, which addresses wages, working hours, and the relationships between employers and employees in New Zealand (q.v.) industries, effectively making them subject to state regulation. The act should be viewed more as a tool for state regulation of industry, but its effectiveness in resolving labor disputes has been only somewhat successful.

Australia.—The laws which are practically operative in Australia with respect to arbitration and conciliation are all based with modifications on the New Zealand system. The first compulsory arbitration act passed in Australia was the New South Wales Act of 1901. The principal points of difference between this and the New Zealand act are that the conciliation procedure is entirely omitted, the New South Wales measure being purely an arbitration act. The arbitration court has greater power over unorganized trades than in New Zealand, and the scope of its awards is greatly enlarged by its power to declare any condition of labour to be common rule of an industry, and thus binding on all existing and future employers and work-people in that industry. In Western Australia laws were passed in 1900 and 1902 which practically adopted the New Zealand legislation with certain modifications in detail.

Australia.—The laws currently in effect in Australia regarding arbitration andconciliation are all based, with some changes, on the New Zealand system. The first mandatory arbitration law enacted in Australia was the New South Wales Act of 1901. The main differences between this and the New Zealand act are that the conciliation process is completely omitted, with the New South Wales law being strictly an arbitration law. The arbitration court has more authority over unorganized trades compared to New Zealand, and it can broaden its awards by declaring any labor condition to be a common rule for an industry, making it binding on all current and future employers and workers in that industry. In Western Australia, laws were introduced in 1900 and 1902 that essentially adopted the New Zealand legislation with specific modifications.

In 1904 the commonwealth of Australia passed a compulsory arbitration law based mainly on those in force in New Zealand and New South Wales, and applicable to disputes affecting more than one Australian state. The arbitration court is empowered to require any dispute within its cognizance to be referred to it by the state authority proposing to deal with it. There are other Australian laws which, though unrepealed (e.g. the South Australian Act of 1894), are a dead-letter. Generally speaking, the Australasian laws on arbitration and conciliation are more stringent and far-reaching than any others in the world.

In 1904, the Commonwealth of Australia enacted a compulsory arbitration law largely based on those in place in New Zealand and New South Wales, applicable to disputes involving more than one Australian state. The arbitration court has the authority to require any dispute it oversees to be referred to it by the state authority looking to handle it. There are other Australian laws that, while still technically in effect (e.g., the South Australian Act of 1894), are not followed in practice. Overall, the Australasian laws on arbitration and conciliation are more strict and comprehensive than any others globally.

Canada.—In 1900 a conciliation act was passed by the Dominion parliament resembling the United Kingdom act in most of its features, and in 1903 the Canadian Railway Labour Disputes Act made special provision for the reference of railway disputes to a conciliation board and (failing settlement) to a court of arbitration.

Canada.—In 1900, the Dominion parliament passed a conciliation act that was similar to the one in the United Kingdom in most respects. Then, in 1903, the Canadian Railway Labour Disputes Act was enacted, which specifically provided for referring railway disputes to a conciliation board and, if that didn't lead to a settlement, to a court of arbitration.

This act was consolidated with the Conciliation Act 1900 during 1906 in an act respecting conciliation and labour, and in March 1907 the Industrial Disputes Investigation Act became law by which machinery is set up for the constitution of a board, on the application of either side to a dispute in mines and industries connected with public utilities, whenever a strike involving more than ten employees is threatened. The provisions of the act may be extended to other industries and railway companies, and their employees may take action under either the Conciliation and Labour Act or the Industrial Disputes Investigation Act. Under the Investigation Act it is unlawful for any employer to cause a lock-out, or for an employee to go on strike on account of any dispute prior to or during a reference of such dispute to a board constituted under the act, or prior to or during a reference under the provisions concerning railway disputes under the Conciliation and Labour Act. There is nothing, however, in the act to prevent a strike or lock-out taking place after the dispute has been investigated.

This act was combined with the Conciliation Act of 1900 in 1906 to form legislation related to conciliation and labor. In March 1907, the Industrial Disputes Investigation Act became law, establishing a process for creating a board when either side of a dispute in mines or public utility industries applies for it, especially if there is a threat of a strike involving more than ten employees. The act's provisions can also extend to other industries and railway companies, allowing their employees to take action under either the Conciliation and Labour Act or the Industrial Disputes Investigation Act. According to the Investigation Act, it's illegal for any employer to initiate a lock-out, or for an employee to strike due to any dispute before or during its consideration by the board established under the act, or before or during a reference under the railway dispute provisions of the Conciliation and Labour Act. However, the act does not prevent a strike or lock-out from occurring after the dispute has been investigated.

France.—The French Conciliation and Arbitration Law of December 1892 provides that either party to a labour dispute may apply to the juge de paix of the canton, who informs the other party of the application. If they concur within three days, a joint committee of conciliation is formed of not more than five representatives of each party, which meets in the presence of the juge de paix, who, however, has no vote. If no agreement results the parties are invited to appoint arbitrators. If such arbitrators are appointed and cannot agree on an umpire, the president of the civil tribunal appoints an umpire. In the case of an actual strike, in the absence of an application from either party it is the duty of the juge de paix to invite the parties to proceed to conciliation or arbitration. The results of the action of the juge de paix and of the conciliation committee are placarded by the mayors of the communes affected. The law leaves the 336 parties entirely free to accept or reject the services of the juge de paix.

France.—The French Conciliation and Arbitration Law of December 1892 states that either side in a labor dispute can reach out to the juge de paix of the canton, who then informs the other side about the request. If both sides agree within three days, a joint committee for conciliation is created with no more than five representatives from each side, meeting in front of the juge de paix, who does not have a vote. If no agreement is reached, the parties are asked to choose arbitrators. If they choose arbitrators and cannot decide on an umpire, the president of the civil tribunal appoints one. If there is an actual strike and neither side has made a request, it is the responsibility of the juge de paix to encourage both parties to seek conciliation or arbitration. The results from the actions of the juge de paix and the conciliation committee are posted by the mayors of the affected municipalities. The law allows the parties complete freedom to accept or decline the help of the juge de paix.

During the ten years 1897-1906 the act was put in force in 1809 cases—viz. 916 on application of workmen; 49 of employers; 40 of both sides; and 804 without application. Altogether 616 disputes were settled—549 by conciliation and 67 by arbitration.

During the ten years from 1897 to 1906, the law was applied in 1809 cases—specifically, 916 initiated by workers, 49 by employers, 40 by both parties, and 804 without any application. In total, 616 disputes were resolved—549 through conciliation and 67 through arbitration.

Germany.—In several continental European countries, courts or boards are established by law to settle cases arising out of existing labour contracts; e.g. the French “Conseils de Prud’hommes,” the Italian “Probi-Viri,” and the German “Gewerbegerichten,”—and some of the questions which come before these bodies are such as might be dealt with in England by voluntary boards or joint committees. The majority, however, are disputes between individuals as to wages due, &c., which would be determined in the United Kingdom by a court of summary jurisdiction. It is noteworthy, however, that the German industrial courts (Gewerbegerichten) are empowered under certain conditions to offer their services to mediate between the parties to an ordinary labour dispute. The main law is that of 1890 which was amended in 1901. In the case of a strike or lock-out the court must intervene on application of both parties, and may do so of its own initiative or on the invitation of one side. The conciliation board for this purpose consists under the amending law of 1901 of the president of the court and four or more representatives named by the parties in equal numbers but not concerned in the dispute. Failing appointment by the parties the president appoints them. Failing a settlement at a conference between the parties in the presence of the president and assessors of the court, the court arrives at a decision on the merits of the dispute which is communicated to the parties, who are allowed a certain time within which to notify their acceptance or rejection. The court has no power to compel the observance of its decision, but in certain cases it may fine a witness for non-attendance. In the first five years after the passage of the amending law of 1901 (viz. 1902-1906) there were 1139 applications for the intervention of the industrial courts: 492 agreements were brought about and 107 decisions were pronounced by the courts, of which 64 were accepted by both parties.

Germany.—In several continental European countries, laws establish courts or boards to resolve cases related to existing labor contracts; e.g. the French “Conseils de Prud’hommes,” the Italian “Probi-Viri,” and the German “Gewerbegerichten.” Some of the issues presented to these bodies would be handled in England by voluntary boards or joint committees. However, most disputes are between individuals regarding unpaid wages, etc., which would be settled in the United Kingdom by a court of summary jurisdiction. It's worth noting that the German industrial courts (Gewerbegerichten) can, under certain conditions, offer to mediate between the parties involved in a standard labor dispute. The main legislation is from 1890, which was modified in 1901. In cases of strikes or lock-outs, the court must intervene if both parties request it, but can also initiate intervention on its own or at the request of one party. The conciliation board for this purpose, under the 1901 amendments, consists of the court president and four or more representatives chosen by the parties in equal numbers, provided they are not involved in the dispute. If the parties fail to appoint representatives, the president will do so. If the parties cannot reach an agreement at a conference with the president and court assessors present, the court will make a ruling on the dispute, which is communicated to the parties, who have a set time to accept or reject it. The court can't force compliance with its decision, but in certain situations, it can impose fines on witnesses for not showing up. In the first five years after the 1901 amendment (i.e., 1902-1906), there were 1,139 requests for intervention by the industrial courts: 492 agreements were reached, and 107 rulings were made, of which 64 were accepted by both parties.

Switzerland.—The canton of Geneva enacted a law in 1900 providing for the settlement by negotiation, conciliation or arbitration of the general terms of employment in a trade, subject, however, to special arrangements between employers and workmen in particular cases. The negotiations take place between delegates chosen by the associations of employers and employed, or failing them, by meetings summoned by the council of state on sufficient applications. Failing settlement, the council of state, on application from either party, is to appoint one or more conciliators from its members, and if this fail the central committee of the Prud’hommes, together with the delegates of employers and workmen, is to form a board of arbitration, whose decision is binding. Any collective suspension of work is illegal during the period covered by the award or agreement. Up to the end of 1904 only seven cases occurred of application of the law to industrial differences. In Basel (town) a law providing for voluntary conciliation by means of boards of employers and workmen with an independent chairman appointed ad hoc by the council of state of the canton, has been in force since 1897, but it remained practically unused until 1902. In the period from January 1902 to May 1905, 18 disputes were dealt with and 10 settled under this law. A similar law was adopted in St Gall in 1902. In the three years 1902-1904, 10 disputes were dealt with and 3 settled.

Switzerland.—In 1900, the canton of Geneva passed a law that allowed for the resolution of employment terms in a trade through negotiation, conciliation, or arbitration, but it still allowed for special arrangements between employers and workers in specific cases. Negotiations are conducted by representatives selected from employer and employee associations, or if those are not available, by meetings called by the state council when there are enough requests. If a settlement isn't reached, the state council, upon request from either side, will appoint one or more conciliators from its members. If that also fails, the central committee of the Prud’hommes will, along with representatives from both employers and workers, create an arbitration board whose decision must be followed. Any collective work stoppages are illegal during the time covered by the decision or agreement. By the end of 1904, there had only been seven instances of this law being applied to industrial disputes. In Basel, a law for voluntary conciliation using boards of employers and workers with an independent chair appointed ad hoc by the canton’s state council has been active since 1897, but it was mostly unused until 1902. Between January 1902 and May 1905, 18 disputes were addressed and 10 were resolved under this law. A similar law was enacted in St Gall in 1902, where 10 disputes were handled and 3 were settled in the three years from 1902 to 1904.

Sweden.—By a law which came into force on the 1st of January 1907, Sweden was divided into seven districts and in each district a conciliator was appointed by the crown. The conciliator must reside within his district and his principal duty is to promote the settlement of disputes between employers and work-people or between members of either class among themselves. He is also on request to advise and otherwise assist employers and work-people in framing agreements affecting the conditions of labour if and so far as agreements are designed to promote good relations between the two classes and to obviate stoppages of work.

Sweden.—According to a law that took effect on January 1, 1907, Sweden was divided into seven districts, and in each district, a conciliator was appointed by the crown. The conciliator must live in his district, and his main responsibility is to help resolve disputes between employers and workers or between members of either group among themselves. He is also available to advise and assist employers and workers in creating agreements regarding labor conditions, as long as the agreements aim to foster good relations between the two groups and prevent work stoppages.

United States.—In the United States several states have legislated on the subject of conciliation and arbitration, among the first of such acts being the “Wallace” Act of 1883, in Pennsylvania, which, however, was almost inoperative. Altogether, 24 states have made constitutional or statutory provision for mediation in trade disputes, of which 17 contemplate the formation of permanent state boards. The only state laws which require notice are those of Massachusetts and New York providing for the formation of state boards of arbitration. The Massachusetts board, founded in 1886, consists of one employer, one employed and one independent person chosen by both. The New York board (1886) consists of two representatives of different political parties, and one member of a bona fide trade organization within the state. In both states it is the duty of the board, with or without application from the parties, to proceed to the spot where a labour dispute has occurred, and to endeavour to promote a settlement. The parties may decline its services, but the board is empowered to issue a report, and on application from either side to hold an inquiry and publish its decision, which (in Massachusetts) is binding for six months, unless sixty days’ notice to the contrary is given by one side to the other. Several states, including Massachusetts and New York, provide not only for state boards, but also for local boards.

United States.—In the United States, several states have passed laws regarding conciliation and arbitration, with one of the first being the “Wallace” Act of 1883 in Pennsylvania, which was largely ineffective. Overall, 24 states have made constitutional or statutory provisions for mediation in trade disputes, and 17 of those set up permanent state boards. The only state laws that require notice are from Massachusetts and New York, which establish state boards of arbitration. The Massachusetts board, created in 1886, is made up of one employer, one employee, and one independent person chosen by both sides. The New York board (1886) includes two representatives from different political parties and one member from a bona fide trade organization in the state. In both states, the board has the responsibility to go to the site of a labor dispute, with or without a request from the parties involved, to try to facilitate a resolution. The parties can reject the board's services, but it can issue a report and is authorized to hold an inquiry and publish its decision if either side requests it. In Massachusetts, this decision is binding for six months unless one party gives the other a 60-day notice to the contrary. Several states, including Massachusetts and New York, not only have state boards but also provide for local boards.

In Massachusetts, during 1906, the state board dealt with 158 disputes. Of these the board was appealed to as arbitrator in 95 cases. Awards were rendered in 80 cases, 12 cases were withdrawn and 3 cases were still pending at the end of the year. In New York the number of cases dealt with is much smaller.

In Massachusetts, in 1906, the state board handled 158 disputes. Of these, the board acted as an arbitrator in 95 cases. Decisions were made in 80 cases, 12 cases were withdrawn, and 3 cases were still pending at the end of the year. In New York, the number of cases handled is much smaller.

Federal legislation can only touch the question of arbitration and conciliation so far as regards disputes affecting commerce between different states. Thus an act of June 1898 provides that in a dispute involving serious interruption of business on railways engaged in inter-state commerce, the chairman of the Inter-State Commerce Commission and the commissioner of labour shall, on application of either party, endeavour to effect a settlement, or to induce the parties to submit the dispute to arbitration. While an arbitration under the act is pending a strike or lock-out is unlawful.

Federal laws can only address arbitration and conciliation in terms of disputes affecting trade between different states. For instance, an act from June 1898 states that in cases where there is a serious disruption of business on railroads involved in interstate commerce, the chairman of the Inter-State Commerce Commission and the commissioner of labor must, upon request from either party, try to reach a settlement or persuade the parties to settle the dispute through arbitration. During the pending arbitration under this act, a strike or lock-out is illegal.

Authorities.—For the recent development of arbitration and conciliation in the United Kingdom, see the Annual Reports of the Labour Department of the Board of Trade on Strikes and Lock-outs from 1888 onwards. Since 1890 these reports have contained special appendices on the work of arbitration boards. See also the Labour Gazette (the monthly journal of the Labour Department) from 1893 onward, and the Report on Rules of Voluntary Conciliation and Arbitration Boards and Joint Committees. The Reports of the Royal Commission on Labour (1891-1894) contain much valuable information on the subject. For the working of the Conciliation Act see the Reports of the Board of Trade on their proceedings under the Conciliation Act 1896. For the earlier history in the United Kingdom: Crompton, Industrial Conciliation (1876); Price, Industrial Peace (1887). For foreign and colonial developments: the third Abstract of Foreign Labour Statistics (1906), issued by the Board of Trade; Report on Government Industrial Arbitration, by L.W. Hatch (Bulletin of Bureau of Labour of United States Department of Commerce and Labour, September 1905); the report of the French Office du Travail, De la conciliation et de l’arbitrage dans les conflits collectifs entre patrons et ouvriers en France et à l’étranger (1893); the Annual Reports of the same Department on Strikes, Lockouts and Arbitration; the Reports of the Massachusetts and New York State Arbitration Boards, and of the New Zealand Department of Labour; and the Labour Gazette. See also the following general works: N.P. Gilman, Methods of Industrial Peace (Boston, 1904); A.C. Pigou, Principles and Methods of Industrial Peace (1905).

Authority figures.—For the recent development of arbitration and conciliation in the United Kingdom, check out the Annual Reports of the Labour Department of the Board of Trade on Strikes and Lock-outs from 1888 onwards. Since 1890, these reports have included special appendices on the work of arbitration boards. Also refer to the Labour Gazette (the monthly journal of the Labour Department) from 1893 onward, and the Report on Rules of Voluntary Conciliation and Arbitration Boards and Joint Committees. The Reports of the Royal Commission on Labour (1891-1894) have a lot of valuable information on this topic. To understand how the Conciliation Act has been working, see the Reports of the Board of Trade regarding their activities under the Conciliation Act 1896. For earlier history in the United Kingdom: Crompton, Industrial Conciliation (1876); Price, Industrial Peace (1887). For foreign and colonial developments: the third Abstract of Foreign Labour Statistics (1906), published by the Board of Trade; Report on Government Industrial Arbitration, by L.W. Hatch (Bulletin of Bureau of Labour of United States Department of Commerce and Labour, September 1905); the report from the French Office du Travail, De la conciliation et de l’arbitrage dans les conflits collectifs entre patrons et ouvriers en France et à l’étranger (1893); the Annual Reports from the same Department on Strikes, Lockouts and Arbitration; the Reports of the Massachusetts and New York State Arbitration Boards, and of the New Zealand Department of Labour; and the Labour Gazette. Also look at the following general works: N.P. Gilman, Methods of Industrial Peace (Boston, 1904); A.C. Pigou, Principles and Methods of Industrial Peace (1905).

(X.)

ARBOGAST (d. 394), a barbarian officer in the Roman army, at the end of the 4th century. His nationality is uncertain, but Zosimus, Eunapius and Sulpicius Alexander (a Gallo-Roman historian quoted by Gregory of Tours) all refer to him as a Frank. Having served with distinction against the Goths in Thrace, he was sent by Theodosius in 388 against Maximus, who had usurped the empire of the west and had murdered Gratian. His complete success, which resulted in the destruction of Maximus and his sons and the pacification of Gaul, led Theodosius to appoint him chief minister for his young brother-in-law 337 Valentinian II. His rule was most energetic; but while he favoured the barbarians in the imperial service, and appointed them to high office, Valentinian, openly jealous of his minister, sought to surround himself with Romans. As an offset to this, Arbogast allied himself with the pagan element in Rome, while Valentinian was strictly orthodox. In 392 Valentinian was secretly put to death at Vienne (in Gaul), and Arbogast, naming as his successor Eugenius, a rhetorician, descended into Italy to meet the expedition which Theodosius was heading against him. He proclaimed himself the champion of the old Roman gods, and as a response to the appeal of Ambrose, is said to have threatened to stable his horses in the cathedral of Milan, and to force the monks to fight in his army. His defeat in the hard-fought battle of the Frigidus saved Italy from these dangers. Theodosius, after a two days’ fight, gained the victory by the treachery of one of Arbogast’s generals, sent to cut off his retreat. Eugenius was captured and executed, but Arbogast escaped to the mountains, where however he slew himself three days afterwards (8th of September 394). Although we have only most distorted narratives upon which to rely—pagan eulogy and Christian denunciation—Arbogast appears to have been one of the greatest soldiers of the later empire, and a statesman of no mean rank. His energy, and his apparent disdain for the effete civilization which he protected, but which did not affect his character, make his personality one of the most interesting of the 4th century.

ARBOGAST (d. 394) was a barbarian officer in the Roman army at the end of the 4th century. His nationality is unclear, but Zosimus, Eunapius, and Sulpicius Alexander (a Gallo-Roman historian quoted by Gregory of Tours) all describe him as a Frank. After serving with distinction against the Goths in Thrace, he was sent by Theodosius in 388 to confront Maximus, who had taken control of the western empire and killed Gratian. His complete victory, which led to the defeat of Maximus and his sons and brought peace to Gaul, prompted Theodosius to name him chief minister for his young brother-in-law 337 Valentinian II. Arbogast's leadership was very dynamic; however, while he supported the barbarians in the imperial service and promoted them to high positions, Valentinian, who was openly jealous of his minister, tried to surround himself with Romans. In response, Arbogast aligned himself with the pagan factions in Rome, while Valentinian was firmly orthodox. In 392, Valentinian was secretly assassinated at Vienne (in Gaul), and Arbogast, naming a rhetorician named Eugenius as his successor, descended into Italy to confront the army that Theodosius was leading against him. He declared himself the defender of the old Roman gods and, in reaction to Ambrose’s appeal, reportedly threatened to stable his horses in the Milan cathedral and force the monks to join his army. His defeat in the fiercely contested battle of the Frigidus spared Italy from these threats. Theodosius won after two days of fighting, aided by the betrayal of one of Arbogast’s generals, who was sent to block his escape. Eugenius was captured and executed, but Arbogast managed to flee to the mountains, where he took his own life three days later (September 8, 394). Although we only have distorted accounts—pagan praise and Christian condemnation—Arbogast seems to have been one of the greatest soldiers of the later empire and a significant statesman. His vigor and apparent disregard for the declining civilization he defended, which did not affect his character, make his personality one of the most intriguing of the 4th century.

See T. Hodgkin, Italy and her Invaders (1880), vol. i. chap. ii.

See T. Hodgkin, Italy and her Invaders (1880), vol. i. chap. ii.


ARBOIS, a town of eastern France, in the department of Jura, on the Cuisance, 29 m. N.N.E. of Lons-le-Saunier by rail. Pop. (1906) 3454. The town is the seat of the tribunal of first instance of the arrondissement of Poligny, and has a communal college. The church of St Just, founded in the 10th century, has good wood-carving. An Ursuline convent, built in 1764, serves as hôtel de ville and law court, and a church of the 14th century is used as a market. There is an old château of the dukes of Burgundy. Arbois is well known for its red and white wines, and has saw-mills, tanneries and market gardens, and manufactures paper, oil and casks.

ARBOIS, is a town in eastern France, located in the Jura department, on the Cuisance River, 29 miles N.N.E. of Lons-le-Saunier by train. Population (1906) was 3,454. The town is the site of the primary court for the Poligny district and has a local college. The Church of St. Just, established in the 10th century, features impressive wood carvings. An Ursuline convent built in 1764 serves as the town hall and law court, while a 14th-century church is used as a marketplace. There’s an old château belonging to the dukes of Burgundy. Arbois is famous for its red and white wines and has sawmills, tanneries, and market gardens, along with manufacturing paper, oil, and barrels.


ARBOIS DE JUBAINVILLE, MARIE HENRI D’ (1827-1910), French historian and philologist, was born at Nancy on the 5th of December 1827. In 1851 he left the École des Chartes with the degree of palaeographic archivist. He was placed in control of the departmental archives of Aube, and remained in that position until 1880, when he retired on a pension. He published several volumes of inventorial abstracts, a Répertoire archéologique du département in 1861; a valuable Histoire des ducs et comtes de Champagne depuis le VIe siècle jusqu’à la fin du XIe, which was published between 1859 and 1869 (8 vols.), and in 1880 an instructive monograph upon Les Intendants de Champagne. But already he had become attracted towards the study of the most ancient inhabitants of Gaul; in 1870 he brought out an Étude sur la déclinaison des noms propres dans la langue franque à l’époque mérovingienne; and in 1877 a learned work upon Les Premiers Habitants de l’Europe (2nd edition in 2 vols. 1889 and 1894). Next he concentrated his efforts upon the field of Celtic languages, literature and law, in which he soon became an authority. Appointed in 1882 to the newly founded professorial chair of Celtic at the Collège de France, he began the Cours de littérature celtique which in 1908 extended to twelve volumes. For this he himself edited the following works: Introduction a l’étude de la littérature celtique (1883); L’Épopée celtique en Irlande (1892); Études sur le droit celtique (1895); and Les Principaux Auteurs de l’antiquité à consulter sur l’histoire des Celtes (1902). He was among the first in France to enter upon the study of the most ancient monuments of Irish literature with a solid philological preparation and without empty prejudices. We owe to him also Les Celtes depuis les temps les plus reculés jusqu’à l’an 100 avant noire ère (1904), and a study of comparative law in La Famille celtique (1905). Numerous detailed studies upon the Gaulish names of persons and places took synthetic form in the Recherches sur l’origine de la propriété foncière (1890), which illumined one of the most interesting aspects of the Roman occupation of Gaul. The Recueil de mémoires concernant la littérature et l’histoire celtiques, made by the most notable among his disciples on the occasion of his seventy-eighth birthday (1906), was a well-deserved tribute to his persevering and fruitful industry. He died in February 1910.

ARBOIS DE JUBAINVILLE, MARIE HENRI D’ (1827-1910), French historian and philologist, was born in Nancy on December 5, 1827. In 1851, he graduated from the École des Chartes as a palaeographic archivist. He was put in charge of the departmental archives of Aube and stayed in that role until 1880, when he retired on a pension. He published several volumes of inventory abstracts, a Répertoire archéologique du département in 1861; a valuable Histoire des ducs et comtes de Champagne depuis le VIe siècle jusqu’à la fin du XIe, which was released between 1859 and 1869 (8 vols.), and in 1880, an informative monograph on Les Intendants de Champagne. However, he had already developed an interest in the study of the earliest inhabitants of Gaul; in 1870, he published an Étude sur la déclinaison des noms propres dans la langue franque à l’époque mérovingienne; and in 1877, a scholarly work titled Les Premiers Habitants de l’Europe (2nd edition in 2 vols. 1889 and 1894). He then focused his efforts on Celtic languages, literature, and law, quickly becoming an expert in the field. Appointed in 1882 to the newly established professorship of Celtic at the Collège de France, he initiated the Cours de littérature celtique, which by 1908 expanded to twelve volumes. For this, he himself edited several works: Introduction a l’étude de la littérature celtique (1883); L’Épopée celtique en Irlande (1892); Études sur le droit celtique (1895); and Les Principaux Auteurs de l’antiquité à consulter sur l’histoire des Celtes (1902). He was one of the first in France to study the oldest monuments of Irish literature with solid philological preparation and without bias. We also owe to him Les Celtes depuis les temps les plus reculés jusqu’à l’an 100 avant notre ère (1904), and a study of comparative law in La Famille celtique (1905). Numerous detailed studies on Gaulish personal and place names were synthesized in Recherches sur l’origine de la propriété foncière (1890), which illuminated one of the most fascinating aspects of the Roman occupation of Gaul. The Recueil de mémoires concernant la littérature et l’histoire celtiques, compiled by his most notable disciples for his seventy-eighth birthday (1906), was a well-deserved tribute to his persistent and fruitful work. He passed away in February 1910.

(C. B.*)

ARBOR DAY, the name applied in the United States of America to a day appointed for the public planting of trees (see Arbour). Originating, or at least being first successfully put into operation, in Nebraska in 1872 through the instrumentality of J. Sterling Morton, then president of the state Board of Agriculture, it received the official sanction of the state by the proclamation of Governor R.W. Furnas in 1874 and by the enactment in 1885 of a law establishing it as a legal holiday in Nebraska. The movement spread rapidly throughout the United States until with hardly an exception every state and territory celebrates such a day either as a legal or a school holiday. The time of celebration varies in different states—sometimes even in different localities in the same state—but April or early May is the rule in the northern states, and February, January and December are the months in various southern states. A like practice has been introduced in New Zealand.

ARBOR DAY, the name given in the United States to a day designated for the public planting of trees (see Arbour). It started, or at least was first successfully implemented, in Nebraska in 1872 by J. Sterling Morton, who was then the president of the state Board of Agriculture. It received official recognition from the state when Governor R.W. Furnas issued a proclamation in 1874, and it became a legal holiday in Nebraska through a law passed in 1885. The idea quickly spread across the United States, to the point where nearly every state and territory now celebrates such a day, either as a legal holiday or in schools. The date of celebration varies in different states—sometimes even within the same state—but generally falls in April or early May for northern states, while southern states may celebrate in February, January, or December. A similar practice has also been adopted in New Zealand.

See N.H. Egleston, Arbor Day: Its History and Observance (Washington, 1896), Robert W. Furnas, Arbor Day (Lincoln, Neb., 1888), and R.H. Schauffler (ed.), Arbor Day (New York, 1909).

See N.H. Egleston, Arbor Day: Its History and Observance (Washington, 1896), Robert W. Furnas, Arbor Day (Lincoln, Neb., 1888), and R.H. Schauffler (ed.), Arbor Day (New York, 1909).


ARBORETUM, the name given to that part of a garden or park which is reserved for the growth and display of trees. The term, in this restricted sense, was seemingly first so employed in 1838 by J.C. Loudon, in his book upon arboreta and fruit trees. Professor Bayley Balfour, F.R.S., the Regius Keeper of the Royal Botanic Garden in Edinburgh, has described an arboretum as a living collection of species and varieties of trees and shrubs arranged after some definite method—it may be properties, or uses, or some other principle—but usually after that of natural likeness. The plants are intended to be specimens showing the habit of the tree or shrub, and the collection is essentially an educational one. According to another point of view, an arboretum should be constructed with regard to picturesque beauty rather than systematically, although it is admitted that for scientific purposes a systematic arrangement is a sine qua non. In this more general respect, an arboretum or woodland affords shelter, improves local climate, renovates bad soils, conceals objects unpleasing to the eye, heightens the effect of what is agreeable and graceful, and adds value, artistic and other, to the landscape. What Loudon called the “gardenesque” school of landscape naturally makes particular use of trees. By common consent the arboretum in the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew is one of the finest in the world. Its beginnings may be traced back to 1762, when, at the suggestion of Lord Bute, the duke of Argyll’s trees and shrubs were removed from Whitton Place, near Hounslow, to adorn the princess of Wales’s garden at Kew. The duke’s collection was famous for its cedars, pines and firs. Most of the trees of that date have perished, but the survivors embrace some of the finest of their kind in the gardens. The botanical gardens at Kew were thrown open to the public in 1841 under the directorate of Sir William Hooker. Including the arboretum, their total area did not then exceed 11 acres. Four years later the pleasure grounds and gardens at Kew occupied by the king of Hanover were given to the nation and placed under the care of Sir William for the express purpose of being converted into an arboretum. Hooker rose to the occasion and, zealously reinforced by his son and successor, Sir Joseph, established a collection which rapidly grew in richness and importance. It is perhaps the largest collection of hardy trees and shrubs known, comprising some 4500 species and botanical varieties. A large proportion of the total acreage (288) of the Gardens is monopolized by the arboretum. Of the more specialized public arboreta in the United Kingdom the next to Kew are those in the Royal Botanic Garden in Edinburgh and the Glasnevin Garden in Dublin. The collection of trees in the Botanic Garden at Cambridge is also one of respectable proportions. There is a small but very select collection of trees at Oxford, the oldest botanical 338 garden in Great Britain, which was founded in 1632. In the United States the Arnold Arboretum at Boston ranks with Kew for size and completeness. It takes its name from its donor, the friend of Emerson. It was originally a well-timbered park, which, by later additions, now covers 222 acres. Practically, it forms part of the park system so characteristic of the city, being situated only 4 m. from the centre of population. There is a fine arboretum in the botanical gardens at Ottawa, in Canada (65 acres). On the continent of Europe the classic example is still the Jardin des Plantes in Paris, where, however, system lends more of formality than of beauty to the general effect. The collection of trees and shrubs at Schönbrunn, near Vienna, is an extensive one. At Dahlem near Berlin the new Kgl. Neuer Botanischer Garten has been laid out with a view to the accommodation of a very large collection of hardy trees and shrubs. There are now many large collections of hardy trees and shrubs in private parks and gardens throughout the British Islands, the interest taken in them by their proprietors having largely increased in recent years. Rich men collect trees, as they do paintings or books. They spare neither pains nor money in acquiring specimens, even from distant lands, to which they often send out expert collectors at their own expense. This, too, the Royal Horticultural Society was once wont to do, with valuable results, as in the case of David Douglas’s remarkable expedition to North America in 1823-1824. It will be remembered that when the laird of Dumbiedikes lay dying (Scott’s Heart of Midlothian, chap, viii.) he gave his son one bit of advice which Bacon himself could not have bettered. “Jock,” said the old reprobate, “when ye hae naething else to do; ye may be aye sticking in a tree; it will be growing, Jock, when ye’re sleeping.” Sir Walter assures us that a Scots earl took this maxim so seriously to heart that he planted a large tract of country with trees, a practice which in these days is promoted by the English and Royal Scottish Arboricultural Societies.

ARBOR PARK, refers to a section of a garden or park dedicated to the growth and exhibition of trees. The term was first used in this specific sense in 1838 by J.C. Loudon in his book on arboreta and fruit trees. Professor Bayley Balfour, F.R.S., the Regius Keeper of the Royal Botanic Garden in Edinburgh, described an arboretum as a living collection of tree and shrub species and varieties organized according to some clear system—it could be based on properties, uses, or another principle—but is typically arranged by natural similarity. The plants are meant to showcase the characteristics of the trees or shrubs, and the collection primarily serves an educational purpose. From another perspective, an arboretum should be designed more for visual appeal than for systematic order, although a systematic arrangement is considered essential for scientific purposes. In a broader sense, an arboretum or woodland provides shelter, enhances the local climate, improves poor soils, hides unattractive objects, emphasizes what is pleasing and graceful, and adds aesthetic and practical value to the landscape. Loudon’s so-called "gardenesque" style of landscape design particularly utilizes trees. By general agreement, the arboretum in the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew is recognized as one of the best in the world. Its origins trace back to 1762, when, at Lord Bute's suggestion, the duke of Argyll's trees and shrubs were moved from Whitton Place, near Hounslow, to beautify the princess of Wales’s garden at Kew. The duke’s collection was renowned for its cedars, pines, and firs. Most of the trees from that era are no longer alive, but some of the finest examples of their species still exist in the gardens. The botanical gardens at Kew opened to the public in 1841 under the direction of Sir William Hooker. At that time, including the arboretum, the total area did not exceed 11 acres. Four years later, the pleasure grounds and gardens at Kew that belonged to the king of Hanover were given to the nation and placed under Sir William's care for the specific purpose of creating an arboretum. Hooker rose to the challenge and, with enthusiastic support from his son and successor, Sir Joseph, built a collection that quickly grew in diversity and significance. It is possibly the largest collection of hardy trees and shrubs known, with around 4500 species and varieties. A substantial portion of the total area (288 acres) of the Gardens is occupied by the arboretum. Among the more specialized public arboreta in the UK, the next are those in the Royal Botanic Garden in Edinburgh and the Glasnevin Garden in Dublin. The collection of trees in the Botanic Garden at Cambridge is also quite respectable. There’s a small but very select collection of trees at Oxford, which is the oldest botanical garden in Great Britain, founded in 1632. In the United States, the Arnold Arboretum in Boston is comparable to Kew in size and variety. It is named after its benefactor, a friend of Emerson. It was originally a well-wooded park but, with later additions, now covers 222 acres. Essentially, it is part of Boston's park system, located just 4 miles from the city center. There is a beautiful arboretum in the botanical gardens at Ottawa, Canada (65 acres). In Europe, the classic example remains the Jardin des Plantes in Paris, where, however, the organization feels more formal than beautiful overall. The collection of trees and shrubs at Schönbrunn, near Vienna, is extensive. Near Berlin, the new Kgl. Neuer Botanischer Garten has been established to accommodate a large collection of hardy trees and shrubs. There are many sizable collections of hardy trees and shrubs in private parks and gardens throughout the British Isles, with interest from their owners having significantly increased in recent years. Wealthy individuals collect trees as they do paintings or books, sparing no effort or expense to acquire specimens, often sending out expert collectors at their own cost. The Royal Horticultural Society once did this as well, achieving valuable results like David Douglas's remarkable expedition to North America in 1823-1824. It is worth recalling that when the laird of Dumbiedikes was on his deathbed (Scott’s Heart of Midlothian, chap. viii.), he gave his son advice that even Bacon would have approved of: “Jock,” said the old reprobate, “when you have nothing else to do; you can always plant a tree; it will be growing, Jock, while you’re sleeping.” Sir Walter tells us that a Scottish earl took this advice so seriously that he planted a large area with trees, a practice that is now encouraged by both the English and Royal Scottish Arboricultural Societies.


ARBORICULTURE (Lat. arbor, a tree), the science and art of tree-cultivation. The culture of those plants which supply the food of man or nourish the domestic animals must have exclusively occupied his attention for many ages; whilst the timber employed in houses, ships and machines, or for fuel, was found in the native woods. Hence, though the culture of fruit-trees, and occasionally of ornamental trees and shrubs, was practised by the Egyptians, Greeks and Romans, the cultivation of timber-trees on a large scale only took place in modern times. In the days of Charlemagne, the greater part of France and Germany was covered with immense forests; and one of the benefits conferred on France by that prince was the rooting up of portions of these forests throughout the country, and substituting orchards or vineyards. Artificial plantations appear to have been formed in Germany sooner than in any other country, apparently as early as the 15th century. In Britain planting was begun, though sparingly, a century later. After the extensive transfers of property on the seizure of the church lands by Henry VIII., much timber was sold by the new owners, and the quantity thus thrown into the market so lowered its price, as Hollingshed informs us, that the builders of cottages, who had formerly employed willow and other cheap and common woods, now built them of the best oak. The demand for timber constantly increased, and the need of an extended surface of arable land arising at the same time, the natural forests became greatly circumscribed, till at last timber began to be imported, and the proprietors of land to think, first of protecting their native woods, afterwards of enclosing waste ground and allowing it to become covered with self-sown seedlings, and ultimately of sowing acorns and mast in such enclosures, or of filling them with young plants collected in the woods—a practice which exists in Sussex and other parts of England even now. Planting, however, was not general in England till the beginning of the 17th century, when the introduction of trees was facilitated by the interchange of plants by means of botanic gardens, which, in that century, were first established in different countries. Evelyn’s Sylva, the first edition of which appeared in 1664, rendered an extremely important service to arboriculture; and there is no doubt that the ornamental plantations in which England surpasses all other countries are in some measure the result of his enthusiasm. In consequence of a scarcity of timber for naval purposes, and the increased expense during the Napoleonic war of obtaining foreign supplies, planting received a great stimulus in Britain in the early part of the 19th century. After the peace of 1815 the rage for planting with a view to profit subsided; but there was a growing taste for the introduction of trees and shrubs from foreign countries, and for their cultivation for ornament and use. The profusion of trees and shrubs planted around suburban villas and country mansions, as well as in town squares and public parks, shows how much arboriculture is an object of pleasure to the people. While isolated trees and old hedgerows are disappearing before steam cultivation, the advantages of shelter from well-arranged plantations are more fully appreciated; and more attention is paid to the principles of forest conservancy both at home and abroad. In all thickly peopled countries the forests have long ceased to supply the necessities of the inhabitants by natural reproduction; and it has become needful to form plantations either by government or by private enterprise, for the growth of timber, and in some cases for climatic amelioration. This subject is, however, dealt with more fully under Forests and Forestry (q.v.); and the separate articles on the various sorts of tree may be consulted for details as to each.

ARBORICULTURE (Lat. arbor, meaning tree), the science and art of tree cultivation. For many ages, people must have focused mainly on growing plants that provide food for humans or feed domestic animals, while timber for houses, ships, machines, and fuel was sourced from natural forests. Although the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans practiced the cultivation of fruit trees and sometimes ornamental trees and shrubs, large-scale cultivation of timber trees didn't happen until more recently. During Charlemagne's time, much of France and Germany was covered in vast forests. One of the benefits Charlemagne brought to France was clearing parts of these forests to create orchards or vineyards. Artificial plantations seem to have started in Germany before anywhere else, likely as early as the 15th century. In Britain, planting began, though sparingly, a hundred years later. After Henry VIII seized church lands, a lot of timber was sold by the new owners, which flooded the market and drove prices down. As Hollingshed notes, builders of cottages, who usually used willow and other inexpensive woods, started using premium oak instead. The demand for timber kept rising, and as the need for more arable land grew, natural forests shrank significantly. Eventually, timber began to be imported, leading landowners to first protect their native woods, then enclose wasteland to let it grow self-sown seedlings, and eventually sow acorns and mast or plant young trees gathered from the woods—a practice still seen in Sussex and other parts of England today. However, planting didn’t become widespread in England until the early 17th century when the exchange of plants through botanical gardens, which were established in various countries during that century, made tree introduction easier. Evelyn’s Sylva, the first edition of which was published in 1664, was crucial for arboriculture. There's no doubt that the decorative plantings that set England apart from other countries stem, in part, from his enthusiasm. Due to a shortage of timber for naval use and the rising costs of foreign supplies during the Napoleonic wars, tree planting received a significant boost in Britain in the early 19th century. After the peace of 1815, the trend for profitable planting died down, but there was an increasing interest in introducing and cultivating trees and shrubs from abroad for aesthetic and practical purposes. The abundance of trees and shrubs around suburban villas, country mansions, town squares, and public parks indicates how much pleasure people derive from arboriculture. While isolated trees and old hedgerows are disappearing due to steam agriculture, the benefits of shelter from well-planned plantations are increasingly recognized, leading to more awareness of forest conservation principles both domestically and internationally. In densely populated countries, forests have long stopped providing for residents through natural growth, making it necessary to establish plantations either through government initiatives or private efforts for timber production and, in some situations, climate improvement. This topic is explored in more detail under Forests and Forestry (q.v.), and separate articles on different types of trees offer specifics on each.


ARBOR VITAE (Tree of Life), a name given by Clusius to species of Thuja. The name Thuja, which was adopted by Linnaeus from the Thuya of Tournefort, seems to be derived from the Greek word θύος, signifying sacrifice, probably because the resin procured from the plant was used as incense. The plants belong to the natural order Coniferae, tribe Cupressineae (Cypresses). Thuja occidentalis is the Western or American arbor vitae, the Cupressus Arbor Vitae of old authors. It is a native of North America, and ranges from Canada to the mountains of Virginia and Carolina. It is a moderate-sized tree, and was introduced into Britain before 1597, when it was mentioned in Gerard’s Herbal. In its native country it attains a height of about 50 ft. The leaves are small and imbricate, and are borne on flattened branches, which are apt to be mistaken for the leaves. When bruised the leaves give out an aromatic odour. The flowers appear early in spring, and the fruit is ripened about the end of September. In Britain the plant is a hardy evergreen, and can only be looked upon as a large shrub or low tree. It is often cut so as to form hedges in gardens. The wood is very durable and useful for outdoor work, such as fencing, posts, etc. Another species of arbor vitae is Thuja orientalis, known also as Biota orientalis. The latter generic name is derived from the Greek adjective βιωτός, formed from βίος, life, probably in connexion with the name “tree of life.” This is the Eastern or Chinese arbor vitae. It is a native of China. It was cultivated in the Chelsea Physick Garden in 1752, and was believed to have been sent to Europe by French missionaries. It has roundish cones, with numerous scales and wingless seeds. The leaves, which have a pungent aromatic odour, are said to yield a yellow dye. There are numerous varieties of this plant in cultivation, one of the most remarkable of which is the variety pendula, with long, flexible, hanging, cord-like branches; it was discovered in Japan about 1776 by Carl Peter Thunberg, a pupil of Linnaeus, who made valuable collections at the Cape of Good Hope, in the Dutch East Indies and in Japan. The variety pygmaea forms a small bush a few inches high.

ARBOR VITAE (Tree of Life) is a name given by Clusius to species of Thuja. The name Thuja, which Linnaeus adopted from the Thuya of Tournefort, seems to come from the Greek word θύος, meaning sacrifice, likely because the resin from the plant was used as incense. These plants belong to the family Coniferae, tribe Cupressineae (Cypresses). Thuja occidentalis is the Western or American arbor vitae, known in older texts as Cupressus Arbor Vitae. It is native to North America, ranging from Canada to the mountains of Virginia and North Carolina. It typically grows to about 50 ft in height. The leaves are small and layered, found on flattened branches that can resemble leaves. When crushed, the leaves release a fragrant aroma. The flowers bloom early in spring, with fruit ripening by the end of September. In Britain, the plant is a hardy evergreen, often perceived as a large shrub or small tree. It is frequently trimmed to create hedges in gardens. The wood is very durable and useful for outdoor purposes like fencing and posts. Another species of arbor vitae is Thuja orientalis, also called Biota orientalis. The latter name comes from the Greek adjective βιωτός, derived from life, meaning life, likely related to the name “tree of life.” This is the Eastern or Chinese arbor vitae, which originates from China. It was cultivated in the Chelsea Physick Garden in 1752 and is believed to have been brought to Europe by French missionaries. It produces round cones with many scales and wingless seeds. The leaves have a strong aromatic smell and are said to produce a yellow dye. There are many cultivated varieties of this plant, one notable variety being pendula, which has long, flexible, hanging, cord-like branches. This variety was discovered in Japan around 1776 by Carl Peter Thunberg, a student of Linnaeus, who collected valuable specimens in the Cape of Good Hope, the Dutch East Indies, and Japan. The variety pygmaea forms a small bush just a few inches tall.

Thuja gigantea, the red or canoe cedar, a native of north-western America from southern Alaska to north California, is the finest species, the trunk rising from a massive base to the height of 150 to 200 ft. It was not introduced to Britain till 1853. It is one of the handsomest of conifers, forming an elongated cone of foliage, which in some gardens has already reached 70 or 80 ft. in height. It thrives in most kinds of soils. The timber is easily worked and used for construction, especially where exposed to the weather.

Thuja gigantea, known as red cedar or canoe cedar, is native to the northwestern United States, from southern Alaska to northern California. It's the most impressive species, with a trunk that can grow from a massive base to heights of 150 to 200 ft. It wasn't brought to Britain until 1853. This tree is one of the most attractive conifers, often forming a tall, elongated cone of foliage, reaching 70 to 80 ft. in some gardens. It grows well in various soil types. The wood is easy to work with and is commonly used for construction, especially in outdoor settings.


ARBOS, FERNANDEZ (1863-  ), Spanish violinist and composer, was born in Madrid, and trained at the conservatoire there, and later at Brussels and at Berlin under Joachim. He became a professor at Hamburg and then at Madrid, becoming 339 famous meanwhile as one of the finest violinists of the day; and after visiting England in 1890 and establishing his reputation there, he became professor at the Royal College of Music in London. As a composer he is best known by his violin pieces, and by a comic opera, El Centro de la Tierra (1895).

ARBOS, FERNANDEZ (1863-  ), a Spanish violinist and composer, was born in Madrid. He trained at the conservatory there and later in Brussels and Berlin under Joachim. He became a professor in Hamburg and then in Madrid, gaining recognition as one of the top violinists of his time. After visiting England in 1890 and establishing his reputation there, he became a professor at the Royal College of Music in London. As a composer, he is best known for his violin pieces and a comic opera, El Centro de la Tierra (1895).


ARBOUR, or Arbor (originally “herber” or “erber,” O. Fr. herbier, from Lat. herbarium, a collection of herbs, herba, grass; the word came to be spelt “arber” through its pronunciation, as in the case of Derby, and by the 16th century was written “arbour,” helped by a confusion of derivation from Lat. arbor, a tree, and by change of meaning), a grass-plot or lawn, a herb-garden, or orchard, and a shady bower of interlaced trees, or climbing plants trained on lattice-work. The application of the word has shifted from the grass-covered ground, the proper meaning, to the covering of trees overhead. “Arbor” (from the Latin for “tree”) is a term applied to the spindle of a wheel, particularly in clock-making.

ARBOUR, or Tree (originally “herber” or “erber,” O. Fr. herbier, from Lat. herbarium, a collection of herbs, herba, grass; the word came to be spelled “arber” due to how it was pronounced, similar to Derby, and by the 16th century was written “arbour,” influenced by a mistaken assumption of its origin from Lat. arbor, meaning a tree, and by a shift in meaning), refers to a grassy area or lawn, a herb garden, or an orchard, as well as a shaded space created by interwoven trees or climbing plants that are supported on lattice-work. The meaning of the word has evolved from describing the grass-covered ground, its original definition, to referring to the canopy of trees above. “Arbor” (from the Latin for “tree”) is also a term used for the spindle of a wheel, especially in clock-making.


ARBROATH, or Aberbrothock, a royal, municipal and police burgh, and seaport of Forfarshire, Scotland. It is situated at the mouth of Brothock water, 17 m. N.E. of Dundee by the North British railway, which has a branch to Forfar, via Guthrie, on the Caledonian railway. Pop. (1891) 22,821; (1901) 22,398. The town is under the jurisdiction of a provost, bailies and council, and, with Brechin, Forfar, Inverbervie and Montrose, returns one member to parliament. The leading industries include the manufacture of sailcloth, canvas and coarse linens, tanning, boot and shoe making, and bleaching, besides engineering works, iron foundries, chemical works, shipbuilding and fisheries. The harbour, originally constructed and maintained by the abbots, by an agreement between the burgesses and John Gedy, the abbot in 1394, was replaced by one more commodious in 1725, which in turn was enlarged and improved in 1844. The older portion was converted into a wet dock in 1877, and the entrance and bar of the new harbour were deepened. A signal tower, 50 ft. high, communicates with the Bell Rock (q.v.) lighthouse on the Inchcape Rock, 12 m. south-east of Arbroath, celebrated in Southey’s ballad. The principal public buildings are the town-hall, a somewhat ornate market house, the gildhall, the public hall, the infirmary, the antiquarian museum (including some valuable fossil remains) and the public and mechanics’ libraries. The parish church dates from 1570, but has been much altered, and the spire was added in 1831. The ruins of a magnificent abbey, once one of the richest foundations in Scotland, stand in High Street. It was founded by William the Lion in 1178 for Tironesian Benedictines from Kelso, and consecrated in 1197, being dedicated to St Thomas Becket, whom the king had met at the English court. It was William’s only personal foundation, and he was buried within its precincts in 1214. Its style was mainly Early English, the western gable Norman. The cruciform church measured 276 ft. long by 160 ft. wide, and was a structure of singular beauty and splendour. The remains include the vestry, the southern transept (the famous rose window of which is still entire), part of the chancel, the southern wall of the nave, part of the entrance towers and the western doorway. It was here that the parliament met which on the 6th of April 1320 addressed to the pope the notable letter, asserting the independence of their country and reciting in eloquent terms the services which their “lord and sovereign” Robert Bruce had rendered to Scotland. The last of the abbots was Cardinal Beaton, who succeeded his uncle James when the latter became archbishop of St Andrews. At the Reformation the abbey was dismantled and afterwards allowed to go to ruin. Part of the secular buildings still stand, and the abbot’s house, or Abbey House as it is now called, is inhabited. Arbroath was created a royal burgh in 1186, and its charter of 1599 is preserved. King John exempted it from “toll and custom” in every part of England excepting London. Arbroath is “Fairport” of Scott’s Antiquary, and Auchmithie, 3 m. north-east (“Musselcrag” of the same romance), is a quaint old-fashioned place, where the men earn a precarious living by fishing. On each side of the village the coast scenery is remarkably picturesque, the rugged cliffs—reaching in the promontory of Red Head, the scene of a thrilling incident in the Antiquary, a height of 267 ft.—containing many curiously shaped caves and archways which attract large numbers of visitors. At the 14th-century church of St Vigeans, 1 m. north of Arbroath, stands one of the most interesting of the sculptured stones of Scotland, with what is thought to be the only legible inscription in the Pictish tongue. The parish—originally called Aberbrothock and now incorporated with Arbroath for administrative purposes—takes its name from a saint or hermit whose chapel was situated at Grange of Conon, 3½ m. north-west. Two miles west by south are the quarries of Carmyllie, the terminus of a branch line from Arbroath, which was the first light railway in Scotland and was opened in 1900.

ARBROATH, or Aberbrothock, a royal, municipal, and police burgh, as well as a seaport in Forfarshire, Scotland. It is located at the mouth of the Brothock Water, 17 miles northeast of Dundee by the North British railway, which has a branch to Forfar, via Guthrie, on the Caledonian railway. Population: (1891) 22,821; (1901) 22,398. The town is governed by a provost, bailies, and council, and along with Brechin, Forfar, Inverbervie, and Montrose, sends one representative to parliament. The main industries include the production of sailcloth, canvas, and coarse linens, tanning, boot and shoe manufacturing, and bleaching, in addition to engineering, iron foundries, chemical plants, shipbuilding, and fisheries. The harbor, originally built and maintained by the abbots, based on an agreement between the burgesses and John Gedy, the abbot in 1394, was replaced by a more spacious one in 1725, which was later enlarged and improved in 1844. The older part was turned into a wet dock in 1877, and the entrance and bar of the new harbor were deepened. A signal tower, 50 feet high, communicates with the Bell Rock (q.v.) lighthouse on Inchcape Rock, 12 miles southeast of Arbroath, famous from Southey’s ballad. The main public buildings include the town hall, a somewhat ornate market house, the gildhall, the public hall, the infirmary, the antiquarian museum (which contains some valuable fossil remains), and the public and mechanics’ libraries. The parish church dates back to 1570, but has undergone many changes, with the spire being added in 1831. The ruins of a magnificent abbey, once one of the wealthiest foundations in Scotland, stand in High Street. Founded by William the Lion in 1178 for Tironesian Benedictines from Kelso and consecrated in 1197, it was dedicated to St Thomas Becket, whom the king had met at the English court. It was William’s only personal foundation, and he was buried there in 1214. The architectural style was mainly Early English, with a Norman western gable. The cruciform church measured 276 feet long by 160 feet wide, and was a structure of unique beauty and splendor. The remaining structures include the vestry, the southern transept (the famous rose window in which is still intact), part of the chancel, the southern wall of the nave, parts of the entrance towers, and the western doorway. It was here that the parliament convened, which on April 6, 1320, sent a notable letter to the pope, asserting their country's independence and eloquently recounting the services which their "lord and sovereign" Robert Bruce had provided to Scotland. The last of the abbots was Cardinal Beaton, who took over from his uncle James when he became archbishop of St Andrews. During the Reformation, the abbey was dismantled and later fell into disrepair. Some of the secular buildings still stand, and the abbot’s house, now known as Abbey House, is inhabited. Arbroath was granted royal burgh status in 1186, and its charter from 1599 is preserved. King John exempted it from “toll and custom” in every part of England except London. Arbroath is the “Fairport” of Scott’s Antiquary, and Auchmithie, 3 miles northeast (referred to as “Musselcrag” in the same novel), is a quaint, old-fashioned place where the men earn a precarious living through fishing. The coastal scenery on either side of the village is remarkably picturesque, with rugged cliffs—reaching a height of 267 feet at the promontory of Red Head, the scene of an exciting incident in the Antiquary—containing many oddly shaped caves and archways that attract many visitors. At the 14th-century church of St Vigeans, 1 mile north of Arbroath, stands one of the most interesting sculpted stones in Scotland, thought to bear the only legible inscription in the Pictish language. The parish—originally called Aberbrothock and now incorporated with Arbroath for administrative purposes—takes its name from a saint or hermit whose chapel was located at Grange of Conon, 3 ½ miles northwest. Two miles west by south are the quarries of Carmyllie, the terminus of a branch line from Arbroath, which was the first light railway in Scotland and opened in 1900.


ARBUTHNOT, ALEXANDER (1538-1583), Scottish ecclesiastic and poet, educated at St Andrews and Bourges, was in 1569 elected principal of King’s College, Aberdeen, which office he retained until his death. He played an active part in the stirring church politics of the period, and was twice moderator of the kirk, and a member of the commission of inquiry into the condition of the university of St Andrews (1583). The “correctness” of his attitude on all public questions won for him the commendation of Catholic writers; he is not included in Nicol Burne’s list of “periurit apostatis”; but his policy and influence were misliked by James VI., who, when the Assembly had elected Arbuthnot to the charge of the church of St Andrews, ordered him to return to his duties at King’s College. He had been for some time minister of Arbuthnott in Kincardineshire. His extant works are (a) three poems, “The Praises of Wemen” (224 lines), “On Luve” (10 lines), and “The Miseries of a Pure Scholar” (189 lines), and (b) a Latin account of the Arbuthnot family, Originis et Incrementi Arbuthnoticae Familiae Descriptio Historica (still in MS.), of which an English continuation, by the father of Dr John Arbuthnot, is preserved in the Advocates’ Library, Edinburgh. The praise of the fair sex in the first poem is exceptional in the literature of his age; and its geniality may help us to understand the author’s popularity with his contemporaries. Arbuthnot must not be confused with his contemporary and namesake, the Edinburgh printer, who produced the first edition of Buchanan’s History of Scotland in 1582. Some have discovered in the publication of this work a false clue to James’s resentment against the principal of King’s College.

ARBUTHNOT, ALEXANDER (1538-1583), was a Scottish church leader and poet, educated at St Andrews and Bourges. In 1569, he was elected principal of King’s College, Aberdeen, a position he held until his death. He was actively involved in the intense church politics of his time, serving twice as moderator of the church and as a member of the commission that investigated the state of the University of St Andrews (1583). His “correctness” on public issues earned him praise from Catholic writers; he is not listed among Nicol Burne’s “perjured apostates.” However, his policies and influence were unpopular with James VI, who, upon the Assembly electing Arbuthnot to lead the church of St Andrews, instructed him to return to his responsibilities at King’s College. He had previously served as minister of Arbuthnott in Kincardineshire. His surviving works include (a) three poems: “The Praises of Wemen” (224 lines), “On Luve” (10 lines), and “The Miseries of a Pure Scholar” (189 lines), and (b) a Latin account of the Arbuthnot family titled Originis et Incrementi Arbuthnoticae Familiae Descriptio Historica (still in manuscript), with an English continuation by the father of Dr. John Arbuthnot preserved in the Advocates’ Library in Edinburgh. The praise of women in the first poem is unusual for its time, and its charm likely contributed to the author’s popularity among his peers. Arbuthnot should not be confused with his contemporary namesake, the Edinburgh printer who published the first edition of Buchanan’s History of Scotland in 1582. Some have suggested that the release of this work falsely hints at James’s anger towards the principal of King’s College.

The particulars of Arbuthnot’s life are found in Calderwood, Spottiswood, and other Church historians, and in Scott’s Fasti Ecclesiae Scoticanae. The poems are printed in Pinkerton’s Ancient Scottish Poems (1786), i. pp. 138-155.

The details of Arbuthnot’s life can be found in Calderwood, Spottiswood, and other church historians, as well as in Scott’s Fasti Ecclesiae Scoticanae. The poems are published in Pinkerton’s Ancient Scottish Poems (1786), i. pp. 138-155.


ARBUTHNOT, JOHN (1667-1735), British physician and author, was born at Arbuthnott, Kincardineshire, and baptized on the 29th of April 1667. His father, Alexander Arbuthnot, was an episcopalian minister who was deprived of his living in 1689 by his patron, Viscount Arbuthnott, for refusing to conform to the Presbyterian system. After his death, in 1691, John went to London, where he lived in the house of a learned linen-draper, William Pate, and supported himself by teaching mathematics. In 1692 he published Of the Laws of Chance ..., based on the Latin version, De Ratociniis in ludo aleae, of a Dutch treatise by Christiaan Huygens. In 1692 he entered University College, Oxford, as a fellow-commoner, acting as private tutor to Edward Jefferys; and in 1696 he graduated M.D. at St Andrews university. In An Examination of Dr Woodward’s Account of the Deluge (1697) he confuted an extraordinary theory advanced by Dr William Woodward. An Essay on the Usefulness of Mathematical Learning followed in 1701, and in 1704 he became a fellow of the Royal Society. He had the good fortune to be called in at Epsom to prescribe for Prince George of Denmark, and in 1705 he was made physician extraordinary to Queen Anne. Four years later he became royal physician in ordinary, and in 1710 he was elected fellow of the Royal College of Physicians. Arbuthnot’s ready wit and varied learning made him very valuable to the Tory party. He was a close friend of Jonathan Swift and of Alexander Pope, and Lord Chesterfield says that even the generous acknowledgment they made of his assistance fell short of their real indebtedness. He had no jealousy of his fame as an author, and his abundant imagination was always 340 at the service of his friends. In 1712 appeared “Law is a Bottomless Pit, Exemplify’d in the case of the Lord Strutt, John Bull, Nicholas Frog and Lewis Baboon, who spent all they had in a law-suit. Printed from a Manuscript found in the Cabinet of the famous Sir Humphrey Polesworth.” This was the first of a series of five pamphlets advocating the conclusion of peace. Arbuthnot describes the confusion after the death of the Lord Strutt (Charles II. of Spain), and the quarrels between the greedy tradespeople (the allies). These put their cause into the hands of the attorney, Humphrey Hocus (the duke of Marlborough), who does all he can to prolong the struggle. The five tracts are printed in two parts as the “History of John Bull” in the Miscellanies in Prose and Verse (1727, preface signed by Pope and Swift). Arbuthnot fixed the popular conception of John Bull, though it is not certain that he originated the character, and the lively satire is still amusing reading. It was often asserted at the time that Swift wrote these pamphlets, but both he and Pope refer to Arbuthnot as the sole author. In the autumn of the same year he published a second satire, “Proposals for printing a very Curious Discourse in Two Volumes in Quarto, entitled, Ψευδολογία Πολιτική; or, A Treatise of the Art of Political Lying,” best known by its sub-title. This ironical piece of work was not so popular as “John Bull.” “’Tis very pretty,” says Swift, “but not so obvious to be understood.” Arbuthnot advises that a lie should not be contradicted by the truth, but by another judicious lie. “So there was not long ago a gentleman, who affirmed that the treaty with France for bringing popery and slavery into England was signed the 15th of September, to which another answered very judiciously, not by opposing truth to his lie, that there was no such treaty; but that, to his certain knowledge, there were many things in that treaty not yet adjusted.”

ARBUTHNOT, JOHN (1667-1735), British doctor and writer, was born in Arbuthnott, Kincardineshire, and baptized on April 29, 1667. His father, Alexander Arbuthnot, was an episcopalian minister who lost his position in 1689 due to his refusal to conform to the Presbyterian system, a decision made by his patron, Viscount Arbuthnott. After his father's death in 1691, John moved to London, where he lived with an educated linen-draper, William Pate, and made a living teaching mathematics. In 1692, he published Of the Laws of Chance ..., based on the Latin version, De Ratociniis in ludo aleae, of a Dutch treatise by Christiaan Huygens. That same year, he enrolled at University College, Oxford, as a fellow-commoner, serving as a private tutor to Edward Jefferys; in 1696, he graduated as an M.D. at St Andrews University. In An Examination of Dr Woodward’s Account of the Deluge (1697), he refuted an unusual theory proposed by Dr William Woodward. An Essay on the Usefulness of Mathematical Learning followed in 1701, and in 1704, he became a fellow of the Royal Society. He was fortunate to be called to Epsom to treat Prince George of Denmark, and in 1705, he was appointed physician extraordinary to Queen Anne. Four years later, he became royal physician in ordinary, and in 1710, he was elected fellow of the Royal College of Physicians. Arbuthnot’s quick wit and diverse knowledge made him very valuable to the Tory party. He was a close friend of Jonathan Swift and Alexander Pope, and Lord Chesterfield remarked that even their generous praise of his help didn't fully capture their debt to him. He had no jealousy about his reputation as a writer, and his rich imagination was always at the service of his friends. In 1712, he published “Law is a Bottomless Pit, Exemplify’d in the case of the Lord Strutt, John Bull, Nicholas Frog, and Lewis Baboon, who spent all they had in a law-suit. Printed from a Manuscript found in the Cabinet of the famous Sir Humphrey Polesworth.” This was the first in a series of five pamphlets advocating for peace. Arbuthnot illustrated the chaos following the death of Lord Strutt (Charles II of Spain) and the disputes among greedy merchants (the allies). They placed their cause in the hands of the lawyer, Humphrey Hocus (the Duke of Marlborough), who did everything he could to extend the conflict. The five tracts were published in two parts as the “History of John Bull” in the Miscellanies in Prose and Verse (1727, preface signed by Pope and Swift). Arbuthnot established the popular image of John Bull, although it's unclear if he created the character, and the lively satire remains entertaining. At the time, it was often claimed that Swift wrote these pamphlets, but both he and Pope acknowledged Arbuthnot as the sole author. In the fall of the same year, he published a second satire, “Proposals for printing a very Curious Discourse in Two Volumes in Quarto, entitled, Fake News Politics; or, A Treatise of the Art of Political Lying,” better known by its subtitle. This ironic work was not as popular as “John Bull.” “’Tis very pretty,” said Swift, “but not so obvious to be understood.” Arbuthnot advised that a lie should not be countered with the truth, but rather with another clever lie. “So there was not long ago a gentleman who claimed that the treaty with France for bringing popery and slavery into England was signed on September 15, to which another replied very wisely, not by opposing truth to his lie that there was no such treaty; but that, to his certain knowledge, there were many issues in that treaty still unresolved.”

Arbuthnot was one of the leading spirits in the Scriblerus Club, the members of which were to collaborate in a universal satire on the abuses of learning. The Memoirs of the extraordinary Life, Works, and Discoveries of Martinus Scriblerus, of which only the first book was finished, first printed in Pope’s Works (1741), was chiefly the work of Arbuthnot, who is at his best in the whimsical account of the birth and education of Martin. Swift, writing on the 3rd of July 1714 to Arbuthnot, says:—“To talk of Martin in any hands but yours, is a folly. You every day give better hints than all of us together could do in a twelvemonth: and to say the truth, Pope who first thought of the hint has no genius at all to it, to my mind; Gay is too young: Parnell has some ideas of it, but is idle; I could put together, and lard, and strike out well enough, but all that relates to the sciences must be from you.”

Arbuthnot was one of the key figures in the Scriblerus Club, where the members aimed to create a comprehensive satire on the shortcomings of learning. The Memoirs of the Extraordinary Life, Works, and Discoveries of Martinus Scriblerus, which only saw the completion of the first book, was first published in Pope’s Works (1741) and was mainly the creation of Arbuthnot, who excelled in the whimsical portrayal of Martin's birth and education. Swift, in a letter to Arbuthnot dated July 3, 1714, wrote: “To discuss Martin in anyone else's hands is foolishness. You come up with better ideas every day than we all could in a year; frankly, Pope, who initially suggested the idea, has no talent for it, in my opinion; Gay is too inexperienced; Parnell has some thoughts on it but is lazy; I could compile and enhance it, but everything related to the sciences must come from you.”

The death of Queen Anne put an end to Arbuthnot’s position at court, but he still had an extensive practice, and in 1727 he delivered the Harveian oration before the Royal College of Physicians. Lord Chesterfield and William Pulteney were his patients and friends; also Mrs Howard (Lady Suffolk) and William Congreve. His friendship with Swift was constant and intimate; he was friend and adviser to Gay; and Pope wrote (2nd of August 1734) that in a friendship of twenty years he had found no one reason of complaint from him. Arbuthnot’s youngest son, who had just completed his education, died in December 1731. He never quite recovered his former spirits and health after this shock. On the 17th of July 1734 he wrote to Pope: “A recovery in my case, and at my age, is impossible; the kindest wish of my friends is Euthanasia.” In January 1735 was published the “Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot,” which forms the prologue to Pope’s satires. He died on the 27th of February 1735 at his house in Cork Street, London.

The death of Queen Anne ended Arbuthnot’s role at court, but he still had a busy practice, and in 1727 he delivered the Harveian oration before the Royal College of Physicians. Lord Chesterfield and William Pulteney were his patients and friends, as were Mrs. Howard (Lady Suffolk) and William Congreve. His friendship with Swift was close and dependable; he was also a friend and advisor to Gay; and Pope stated (on August 2, 1734) that in their twenty years of friendship, he had found no reason to complain about Arbuthnot. Arbuthnot’s youngest son, who had just finished his education, died in December 1731. He never quite regained his previous spirits and health after this loss. On July 17, 1734, he wrote to Pope: “A recovery in my case, and at my age, is impossible; the kindest wish of my friends is Euthanasia.” In January 1735, the “Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot,” which serves as the prologue to Pope’s satires, was published. He died on February 27, 1735, at his home on Cork Street, London.

Among Arbuthnot’s other works are:—An Argument for Divine Providence, taken from the constant regularity observed in the Births of both sexes (Phil. Trans. of the Royal Soc., 1710); “Virgilius Restauratus,” printed in the second edition of Pope’s Dunciad (1729); An Essay concerning the Effects of Air on Human Bodies (1733); An Essay concerning the Nature of Ailments ... (1731); and a valuable Table of Ancient Coins, Weights and Measures (1727), which is an enlargement of an earlier treatise (1705). He had a share in the unsuccessful farce of Three Hours after Marriage, printed with Gay’s name on the title-page (1717). Some pieces printed in A Supplement to Dr Swift’s and Mr Pope’s Works ... (1739) are there asserted to be Arbuthnot’s. The Miscellaneous Works of the late Dr Arbuthnot were published at Glasgow in an unauthorized edition in 1751. This includes many spurious pieces.

Among Arbuthnot’s other works are:—An Argument for Divine Providence, based on the consistent regularity observed in the Births of both sexes (Phil. Trans. of the Royal Soc., 1710); “Virgilius Restauratus,” included in the second edition of Pope’s Dunciad (1729); An Essay concerning the Effects of Air on Human Bodies (1733); An Essay concerning the Nature of Ailments ... (1731); and a valuable Table of Ancient Coins, Weights and Measures (1727), which expands on an earlier treatise (1705). He contributed to the unsuccessful farce Three Hours after Marriage, published with Gay’s name on the title-page (1717). Some pieces published in A Supplement to Dr Swift’s and Mr Pope’s Works ... (1739) are claimed to be Arbuthnot’s. The Miscellaneous Works of the late Dr Arbuthnot were published in Glasgow in an unauthorized edition in 1751. This includes many spurious pieces.

See The Life and Works of John Arbuthnot (1892), by George A. Aitken.

See The Life and Works of John Arbuthnot (1892), by George A. Aitken.


ARCACHON, a coast town of south-western France, in the department of Gironde, 37 m. W.S.W. of Bordeaux on the Southern railway. Pop. (1906) 9006. Arcachon is situated on the southern border of the lagoon of Arcachon at the foot of dunes covered with splendid pine-woods. It comprises two distinct parts, the summer town, extending for 2½ m. along the shore, and bordered by a firm sandy beach, frequented by bathers, and the winter town, farther inland, consisting of numerous villas scattered amongst the pines.

ARCACHON, is a coastal town in southwestern France, located in the Gironde department, 37 miles W.S.W. of Bordeaux on the Southern railway. Population (1906) 9,006. Arcachon sits on the southern edge of the Arcachon lagoon at the base of dunes covered with beautiful pine forests. It has two distinct areas: the summer town, which stretches 2½ miles along the beach and features a solid sandy shore that attracts bathers, and the winter town, located further inland, made up of several villas scattered among the pines.

Owing to the mildness of its climate the winter town is a resort for consumptive patients. The principal industries are oyster-breeding, which is conducted on a very large scale, and fishing. The port has trade with Spain and England.

Due to its mild climate, the winter town is a resort for patients with tuberculosis. The main industries are large-scale oyster farming and fishing. The port trades with Spain and England.


ARCADE, in architecture, a range of arches, supported either by columns or piers; isolated in the case of those separating the nave of a church from the aisles, or forming the front of a covered ambulatory, as in the cloisters in Italy and Sicily, round the Ducal Palace or the Square of St Mark’s, Venice, round the courts of the palaces in Italy, or in Paris round the Palais-Royal and the Place des Vosges. The earliest examples known are those of the Tabularium, the theatre of Marcellus, and the Colosseum, in Rome. In the palace of Diocletian at Spalato the principal street had an arcade on either side, the arches of which rested direct on the capital without any intervening entablature or impost block. The term is also applied to the galleries, employed decoratively, on the façades of the Italian churches, and carried round the apses where they are known as eaves-galleries. Sometimes these arcades project from the wall sufficiently to allow of a passage behind, and sometimes they are built into and form part of the wall; in the latter case, they are known as blind or wall arcades; and they were constantly employed to decorate the lower part of the walls of the aisles and the choir-aisles in English churches. Externally, blind arcades are more often found in Italy and Sicily, but there are examples in 341 England at Canterbury, Ely, Peterborough, Norwich, St John’s (Chester), Colchester and elsewhere. Internally, the oldest example is that of the old refectory in Westminster Abbey (fig. 1). Sometimes the design is varied with interlacing arches as in St John’s Devizes (fig. 2), and Beverley Minster (fig. 3). In Sicily and the south of Italy these interlacing arcades are the special characteristic of the Saracenic work there found, and their origin may be found in the interlaced arches of the Mosque of Cordova in Spain. In the cathedral of Palermo and at Monreale they are carried round the apses at the east end. At Caserta-Vecchia, in South Italy, they decorate the lantern over the crossing, and at Amain the turrets on the north-west campanile.

ARCADE, in architecture, a series of arches, supported either by columns or piers; this includes those separating the nave of a church from the aisles, or forming the front of a covered walkway, like in the cloisters in Italy and Sicily, around the Ducal Palace or the Square of St Mark’s in Venice, or surrounding the courts of the palaces in Italy, or in Paris around the Palais-Royal and the Place des Vosges. The earliest known examples are the Tabularium, the theatre of Marcellus, and the Colosseum in Rome. In the palace of Diocletian at Spalato, the main street had an arcade on both sides, with arches resting directly on the capitals without any intervening entablature or impost block. The term also describes the galleries used decoratively on the façades of Italian churches, which wrap around the apses and are known as eaves-galleries. Sometimes these arcades project from the wall enough to allow a passage behind, while other times they are built into and become part of the wall; in that case, they are referred to as blind or wall arcades, and they were frequently used to decorate the lower part of the walls of the aisles and the choir-aisles in English churches. Externally, blind arcades are more commonly found in Italy and Sicily, though examples exist in 341 England at Canterbury, Ely, Peterborough, Norwich, St John’s (Chester), Colchester, and other locations. Internally, the oldest example is the old refectory in Westminster Abbey (fig. 1). Sometimes the design features interlacing arches, as seen in St John’s Devizes (fig. 2) and Beverley Minster (fig. 3). In Sicily and southern Italy, these interlacing arcades are a key characteristic of the Saracenic architecture found there, and their origin can be traced back to the interlaced arches of the Mosque of Cordova in Spain. In the cathedral of Palermo and at Monreale, they encircle the apses at the east end. At Caserta-Vecchia in southern Italy, they decorate the lantern over the crossing, and at Amain they adorn the turrets on the north-west campanile.

Fig. 1.—Arcade,
Westminster Abbey.
Fig. 2.—Arcade,
St John’s, Devizes.
From Rickman’s Styles of Architecture, by permission of Parker & Co.
Figure. 3.—Triforium at Beverley.

The term is also applied to the covered passages which form thoroughfares from one street to another, as in the Burlington Arcade, London; in Paris such an arcade is usually called passage, and in Italy galleria.

The term is also used for the covered walkways that connect one street to another, like the Burlington Arcade in London; in Paris, such a walkway is typically called a passage, and in Italy, it’s referred to as a galleria.

(R. P. S.)

ARCADELT, or Archadelt, Jacob (c. 1514-c. 1556), a Netherlands composer, of the early part of the Golden Age. In 1539 he left a position at Florence to teach the choristers of St Peter’s, Rome, and became one of the papal singers in 1540. He was a prolific church composer, but the works published in his Italian time consist entirely of madrigals, five books of which, published at Venice, probably gave a great stimulus to the beginnings of the Venetian school of composition. In 1555 he left Italy and entered the service of Cardinal Charles of Lorraine, duke of Guise, and after this published three volumes of masses, besides contributing motets to various collections. The Ave Maria, ascribed to him and transcribed as a pianoforte piece by Liszt, does not seem to be traced to an earlier source than its edition by Sir Henry Bishop, which has possibly the same kind of origin in Arcadelt as the hymn tune “Palestrina” has in the delicate and subtle Gloria of Palestrina’s Magnificat Quinti Toni, the fifth in his first Book of Magnificats.

ARCADELT, or Jacob Arcadelt (c. 1514-c. 1556) was a composer from the Netherlands during the early part of the Golden Age. In 1539, he left his position in Florence to teach the choir at St. Peter’s in Rome and became one of the papal singers in 1540. He was a prolific composer of church music, but the works published during his time in Italy consist solely of madrigals, five books of which, published in Venice, likely played a significant role in the development of the Venetian school of composition. In 1555, he left Italy and began working for Cardinal Charles of Lorraine, Duke of Guise, after which he published three volumes of masses and contributed motets to various collections. The Ave Maria, attributed to him and arranged as a piano piece by Liszt, seems to have its earliest reference in the edition by Sir Henry Bishop, which may share a similar origin in Arcadelt as the hymn tune “Palestrina” does in the delicate and subtle Gloria of Palestrina’s Magnificat Quinti Toni, the fifth in his first Book of Magnificats.


ARCADIA, a district of Greece, forming the central plateau of Peloponnesus. Shut off from the coast lands on all sides by mountain barriers, which rise in the northernpeaks of Erymanthus (mod. Olonos) to 7400, of Cyllene (Ziria) to 7900, in the southern corner buttresses of Parthenium and Lycaeum to more than 5000 ft., this inland plateau is again divided by numerous subsidiary ranges. In eastern or “locked” Arcadia these heights run in parallel courses intersected by cross-ridges, enclosing a series of upland plains whose waters have no egress save by underground channels or zerethra. The western country is more open, with isolated mountain-groups and winding valleys, where the Alpheus with its tributaries the Ladon and Erymanthus drains off in a complex river-system the overflow from all Arcadia. The ancient inhabitants were a nation of shepherds and huntsmen, worshipping Pan, Hermes and Artemis, primitive nature-deities. The difficulties of communication and especially the lack of a seaboard seriously hindered intercourse with the rest of Greece. Consequently the same population, whose origins Greek tradition removed back into the world’s earliest days, held the land throughout historic times, without even an admixture of Dorian immigrants. Their customs and dialect persisted, the latter maintaining a peculiar resemblance to that of the equally conservative Cypriotes. Thus Arcadia lagged behind the general development of Greece, and its political importance was small owing to chronic feuds between the townships (notably between Mantineia and Tegea) and the readiness of its youth for mercenary service abroad.

ARCADIA, is a region in Greece that makes up the central plateau of Peloponnesus. Surrounded by mountain ranges on all sides, with peaks like Erymanthus (modern Olonos) rising to 7,400 feet and Cyllene (Ziria) reaching 7,900 feet, and further supported in the southern area by Parthenium and Lycaeum, which go over 5,000 feet, this inland plateau is also intersected by many smaller ranges. In eastern or “locked” Arcadia, these heights run in parallel lines crossed by ridges, enclosing a series of high plains where the water has no outlet except through underground channels or zerethra. The western part is more open, featuring isolated mountain groups and winding valleys, where the Alpheus River, along with its tributaries the Ladon and Erymanthus, drains the excess water from all of Arcadia through a complex river system. The early inhabitants were a community of shepherds and hunters who worshipped Pan, Hermes, and Artemis, all of whom were primitive nature gods. The challenging terrain and the lack of a coastline made communication with the rest of Greece very difficult. As a result, the same population, which Greek tradition traced back to the world’s earliest times, remained in the area throughout history without any significant influx of Dorian immigrants. Their customs and dialect endured, with the latter showing a distinct resemblance to that of the equally traditional Cypriots. Therefore, Arcadia fell behind the overall development of Greece, and its political significance was minimal due to ongoing conflicts between towns (especially between Mantineia and Tegea) and the tendency of its youth to join mercenary forces abroad.

The importance of Arcadia in Greek history was due to its position between Sparta and the Isthmus. Unable to force their way through Argolis, the Lacedaemonians early set themselves to secure the passage through the central plateau. The resistance of single cities, and the temporary union of the Arcadians during the second Messenian war, did not defer the complete subjugation of the land beyond the 6th century. In later times revolts were easily stirred up among individual cities, but a united national movement was rarely concerted. Most of these rebellions were easily quelled by Sparta, though in 469 and again in 420 the disaffected cities, backed by Argos, formed a dangerous coalition and came near to establishing their independence. A more whole-hearted attempt at union in 371 after the battle of Leuctra resulted in the formation of a political league out of an old religious synod, and the foundation of a federal capital in a commanding strategic position (see Megalopolis). But a severe defeat at the hands of Sparta in 368 (the “tearless battle”) and the recrudescence of internal discord soon paralysed this movement. The new fortress of Megalopolis, instead of supplying a centre of national life, merely accentuated the mutual jealousy of the cities. During the Hellenistic age Megalopolis stood staunchly by Macedonia; the rest of Arcadia rebelled against Antipater (330, 323) and Antigonus Gonatas (266). Similarly the various cities were divided in their allegiance between the Achaean and the Aetolian leagues, with the result that Arcadia became the battleground of these confederacies, or fell a prey to Sparta and Macedonia. These conflicts seem to have worn out the land, which already in Roman times had fallen into decay. An influx of Slavonic settlers in the 8th century A.D. checked the depopulation for a while, but Arcadia suffered severely from the constant quarrels of its Frankish barons (1205-1460). The succeeding centuries of Turkish rule, combined with an Albanian immigration, raised the prosperity of the land, but in the Wars of Independence the strategic importance of Arcadia once more made it a centre of conflict. In modern times the population remains sparse, and pending the complete restoration of the water conduits the soil is unproductive. The modern department of Arcadia extends to the Gulf of Nauplia with a sea-coast of about 40 m.

The importance of Arcadia in Greek history was due to its location between Sparta and the Isthmus. Unable to push through Argolis, the Spartans quickly worked to secure the passage through the central plateau. The resistance from individual cities and the temporary alliance of the Arcadians during the second Messenian war didn't stop the full takeover of the region by the 6th century. In later years, revolts were easily sparked among separate cities, but a united national movement rarely came together. Most of these uprisings were quickly suppressed by Sparta, although in 469 and again in 420, the discontented cities, supported by Argos, formed a dangerous coalition and nearly achieved their independence. A more serious attempt for unity in 371 after the battle of Leuctra led to the creation of a political league from an old religious assembly, and the establishment of a federal capital in a strong strategic position (see Megalopolis). However, a heavy defeat by Sparta in 368 (the “tearless battle”) and the resurgence of internal conflict soon paralyzed this effort. The new fortress of Megalopolis did not provide a center of national life; instead, it intensified the mutual jealousy among the cities. During the Hellenistic period, Megalopolis firmly supported Macedonia, while the rest of Arcadia rebelled against Antipater (330, 323) and Antigonus Gonatas (266). Similarly, the various cities were divided in their loyalty between the Achaean and Aetolian leagues, resulting in Arcadia becoming a battleground for these alliances or being conquered by Sparta and Macedonia. These conflicts seemed to exhaust the region, which had already started to decline by Roman times. An influx of Slavic settlers in the 8th century CE temporarily slowed down the population decrease, but Arcadia was severely affected by the ongoing disputes among its Frankish barons (1205-1460). The following centuries of Turkish rule, along with Albanian immigration, improved the area's prosperity, but during the Wars of Independence, the strategic importance of Arcadia made it a focal point of conflict once again. In modern times, the population remains sparse, and until the complete restoration of the water systems, the land is unproductive. The modern district of Arcadia extends to the Gulf of Nauplia with a coastline of about 40 miles.

Authorities.—Strabo pp. 388 sq.; Pausanias viii.; W.M. Leake, Travels in the Morea (London, 1830), chs. iii., iv., xi.-xviii., xxiii.-xxvi.; E. Curtius, Peloponnesos (Gotha, 1851), i. 153-178; H.F. Tozer, Geography of Greece (London, 1873), pp. 287-292; E.A. Freeman, Federal Government (ed. 1893, London), ch. iv. § 3; B.V. Head, Historia Numorum (Oxford, 1887), pp. 372-373; B. Niese in Hermes (1899), pp. 520 f.

Authorities.—Strabo pp. 388 sq.; Pausanias viii.; W.M. Leake, Travels in the Morea (London, 1830), chs. iii., iv., xi.-xviii., xxiii.-xxvi.; E. Curtius, Peloponnesos (Gotha, 1851), i. 153-178; H.F. Tozer, Geography of Greece (London, 1873), pp. 287-292; E.A. Freeman, Federal Government (ed. 1893, London), ch. iv. § 3; B.V. Head, Historia Numorum (Oxford, 1887), pp. 372-373; B. Niese in Hermes (1899), pp. 520 f.

(M. O. B. C.)

ARCADIUS (378-408), Roman emperor, the elder son of Theodosius the Great, was created Augustus in 383, and succeeded his father in 395 along with his brother Honorius. The empire was divided between them, Honorius governing the two western prefectures (Gaul and Italy), Arcadius the two eastern (the Orient and Illyricum). Both were feeble, and, in Gibbon’s phrase, slumbered on their thrones, leaving the government to others. Arcadius submitted at first to the guidance of the praetorian prefect Rufinus, and, after his murder (end of 395) by the troops, to the counsels of the eunuch Eutropius (executed end of 399). His consort Eudoxia (daughter of a Frank general, Bauto), a woman of strong will, exercised great influence over him; she died in 404. In the last year of his reign, Anthemius (praetorian prefect) was the chief adviser and support of the throne. The first years of the reign were marked by the ravaging of the Greek peninsula by the West Goths under Alaric (q.v.) in 395-396. The movement of the Goth Gainas (who held the post of master of soldiers) in 399-400 is less famous but was more dangerous. At that time there were two rival political parties at Constantinople, the “Roman” party led by Aurelian (son of Taurus), praetorian prefect, and supported by the empress and a Germanizing and Arianizing party led by Aurelian’s brother (possibly Caesarius, praetorian prefect in 400). Gainas entered into a close league with the latter; fomented a Gothic rebellion in Phrygia; and forced the emperor to put Eutropius to death. For some months he and the party which he supported were supreme in Constantinople. He was, however, finally forced to leave, and having plundered for some time in Thrace was captured and killed by the loyal Goth Fravitta. The Roman party recovered its power; Aurelian was again praetorian prefect in 402; and the Germanization which was to befall the western world was averted from the east. Another important question was decided in this reign, the relation of the patriarch of Constantinople to the emperor. The struggle between the court and the patriarch John Chrysostom (q.v.), who assumed an independent attitude and gravely offended the empress by his sermons against the worldliness and frivolity of the court, with open allusions to herself, resulted in his fall and exile (404). This virtually determined the subordination of the patriarch 342 of Constantinople to the emperor. The rivalry of the see of Alexandria with Constantinople was also displayed in the contest, Theophilus, patriarch of Alexandria, assisting the court in bringing about the fall of Chrysostom. Throughout the reign of Arcadius there was estrangement and jealousy between the two brothers or their governments. The principal ground of this hostility was probably dissatisfaction on both sides with the territorial partition. The line had been drawn east of Dalmatia. The ministers of Arcadius desired to annex Dalmatia to his portion, while the general Stilicho, who was supreme in the west, wished to wrest from the eastern realm the prefecture of Illyricum or a considerable part of it. His designs were unsuccessful, and during the reign of Theodosius II., son of Arcadius (who died in 408), Dalmatia was transferred to the dominion of the eastern ruler.

ARCADIUS (378-408), Roman emperor and the older son of Theodosius the Great, became Augustus in 383 and succeeded his father in 395 along with his brother Honorius. The empire was divided between them, with Honorius governing the two western prefectures (Gaul and Italy) and Arcadius the two eastern ones (the Orient and Illyricum). Both were weak and, as Gibbon put it, dozed on their thrones, leaving governance to others. Arcadius initially followed the guidance of the praetorian prefect Rufinus, and after Rufinus was killed (end of 395) by the troops, he took advice from the eunuch Eutropius (who was executed at the end of 399). His wife Eudoxia (the daughter of a Frank general, Bauto), a strong-willed woman, held significant influence over him; she died in 404. In the last year of his reign, Anthemius (the praetorian prefect) was the main advisor and support of the throne. The early years of his reign were marked by devastation in the Greek peninsula by the Visigoths under Alaric (q.v.) in 395-396. The movement of the Goth Gainas (who was the master of soldiers) in 399-400 is less known but was more perilous. At that time, two rival political factions existed in Constantinople: one, the “Roman” faction led by Aurelian (son of Taurus), the praetorian prefect, supported by the empress, and the other, a Germanizing and Arianizing faction led by Aurelian’s brother (possibly Caesarius, the praetorian prefect in 400). Gainas formed a close alliance with the latter, stirred up a Gothic rebellion in Phrygia, and forced the emperor to have Eutropius executed. For a few months, he and the faction he backed dominated Constantinople. However, he was eventually compelled to leave, and after plundering in Thrace for some time, he was captured and killed by the loyal Goth Fravitta. The Roman faction regained its power; Aurelian became praetorian prefect again in 402, and the Germanization that would later affect the western world was kept away from the east. Another significant issue settled during this reign was the relationship between the patriarch of Constantinople and the emperor. The conflict between the court and Patriarch John Chrysostom (q.v.), who adopted an independent stance and seriously offended the empress with his sermons criticizing the court's worldliness and frivolity, including direct references to her, led to his downfall and exile (404). This effectively established the subordination of the patriarch of Constantinople to the emperor. The rivalry between the see of Alexandria and Constantinople was evident in this conflict, with Theophilus, the patriarch of Alexandria, supporting the court in bringing about Chrysostom's fall. Throughout Arcadius' reign, there was discord and jealousy between the two brothers or their governments. The main reason for this hostility was likely mutual dissatisfaction with the territorial division. The boundary had been set east of Dalmatia. Arcadius' ministers wanted to annex Dalmatia to his territory, while General Stilicho, who held power in the west, sought to wrest the prefecture of Illyricum or a substantial part of it from the eastern territory. His plans failed, and during the reign of Theodosius II., son of Arcadius (who died in 408), Dalmatia was transferred to the control of the eastern ruler.

Authorities.—Ancient: Fragments of Eunapius and Olympiodorus (in Müller’s Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, vol. iv.); fragments of Philostorgius, Socrates, Sozomen, Zosimus, Synesius of Cyrene (“The Egyptian”), Claudian. Modern: Gibbon’s Decline and Fall, vol. iii., ed. Bury; J.B. Bury, Later Roman Empire, vol. i. (1889); T. Hodgkin, Italy and her Invaders, vol. i. (ed. 2, 1892); Güldenpenning, Geschichte des ostromischen Reiches unter den Kaisern Arcadius und Theodosius II. (1885).

Authorities.—Ancient: Fragments of Eunapius and Olympiodorus (in Müller’s Fragmenta Historicorum Graecorum, vol. iv.); fragments of Philostorgius, Socrates, Sozomen, Zosimus, Synesius of Cyrene (“The Egyptian”), Claudian. Modern: Gibbon’s Decline and Fall, vol. iii., ed. Bury; J.B. Bury, Later Roman Empire, vol. i. (1889); T. Hodgkin, Italy and her Invaders, vol. i. (ed. 2, 1892); Güldenpenning, Geschichte des ostromischen Reiches unter den Kaisern Arcadius und Theodosius II. (1885).


ARCADIUS, of Antioch, Greek grammarian, flourished in the 2nd century A.D. According to Suidas, he wrote treatises on orthography and syntax, and an onomaticon (vocabulary), described as a wonderful production. An epitome of the great work of Herodian on general prosody in twenty books, wrongly attributed to Arcadius, is probably the work of Theodosius of Alexandria or a grammarian named Aristodemus. This epitome (Περὶ Τόνων) only includes nineteen books of the original work; the twentieth is the work of a forger of the 16th century. Although meagre and carelessly put together, it is valuable, since it preserves the order of the original and thus affords a trustworthy foundation for its reconstruction.

ARCADIUS, of Antioch, a Greek grammarian, thrived in the 2nd century CE According to Suidas, he wrote treatises on spelling and grammar, along with a vocabulary book, which was called a remarkable work. An abridgment of Herodian's extensive work on general prosody, consisting of twenty books, is mistakenly attributed to Arcadius but is likely the work of Theodosius of Alexandria or a grammarian named Aristodemus. This abridgment (About Tones) only contains nineteen books from the original; the twentieth is a forgery from the 16th century. While it is scant and put together poorly, it is still valuable since it maintains the order of the original, providing a reliable basis for its reconstruction.

Text by Barker, 1823; Schmidt, 1860; see also Galland, De Arcadii qui fertur libra de accentibus (1882).

Text by Barker, 1823; Schmidt, 1860; see also Galland, De Arcadii qui fertur libra de accentibus (1882).


ARCELLA (C.G. Ehrenberg), a genus of lobose Rhizopoda, characterized by a chitinous plano-convex shell, the circular aperture central on the flat ventral face, and more than one nucleus and contractile vacuole. It can develop vacuoles, or rather fine bubbles of carbonic acid gas in its cytoplasm, to float up to the surface of the water.

ARCELLA (C.G. Ehrenberg) is a genus of lobose Rhizopoda, marked by a chitinous plano-convex shell, a central circular opening on the flat underside, and multiple nuclei and contractile vacuoles. It can create vacuoles, or small bubbles of carbon dioxide, in its cytoplasm to rise to the water's surface.


ARCESILAUS (316-241 B.C.), a Greek philosopher and founder of the New, or Middle, Academy (see Academy, Greek). Born at Pitane in Aeolis, he was trained by Autolycus, the mathematician, and later at Athens by Theophrastus and Crantor, by whom he was led to join the Academy. He subsequently became intimate with Polemon and Crates, whom he succeeded as head of the school. Diogenes Laërtius says that he died of excessive drinking, but the testimony of others (e.g. Cleanthes) and his own precepts discredit the story, and he is known to have been much respected by the Athenians. His doctrines, which must be gathered from the writings of others (Cicero, Acad. i. 12, iv. 24; De Orat. iii. 18; Diogenes Laërtius iv. 28; Sextus Empiricus, Adv. Math. vii. 150, Pyrrh. Hyp. i. 233), represent an attack on the Stoic φαντασία καταληπτική (Criterion) and are based on the sceptical element (see Scepticism) which was latent in the later writings of Plato. He held that strength of intellectual conviction cannot be regarded as valid, inasmuch as it is characteristic equally of contradictory convictions. The uncertainty of sensible data applies equally to the conclusions of reason, and therefore man must be content with probability which is sufficient as a practical guide. “We know nothing, not even our ignorance”; therefore the wise man will be content with an agnostic attitude. He made use of the Socratic method of instruction and left no writings. His arguments were marked by incisive humour and fertility of ideas.

ARCESILAUS (316-241 BCE), a Greek philosopher and founder of the New, or Middle, Academy (see Academy, Greek). He was born in Pitane in Aeolis and studied under Autolycus, the mathematician, and later in Athens with Theophrastus and Crantor, who encouraged him to join the Academy. He later became close with Polemon and Crates, whom he succeeded as the head of the school. Diogenes Laërtius claims that he died from excessive drinking, but other accounts (e.g., Cleanthes) and his own teachings challenge this story, and he was well-respected by the Athenians. His doctrines, which can only be pieced together from the writings of others (Cicero, Acad. i. 12, iv. 24; De Orat. iii. 18; Diogenes Laërtius iv. 28; Sextus Empiricus, Adv. Math. vii. 150, Pyrrh. Hyp. i. 233), criticise the Stoic imaginative capability (Criterion) and are rooted in the sceptical elements found in later works of Plato. He believed that strong intellectual conviction isn't reliable, as it can be found in opposing beliefs as well. The uncertainty of sensory data applies to reasoning, so humans should only seek probability, which is adequate for practical purposes. “We know nothing, not even our ignorance”; hence, a wise person will adopt an agnostic perspective. He employed the Socratic method for teaching and left no written works. His arguments were noted for their sharp wit and abundance of ideas.

See R. Brodeisen, De Arcesila philosopho (1821); Aug. Geffers, De Arcesila (1842); Ritter and Preller, Hist, philos. graec. (1898); Ed. Zeller, Phil. d. Griech. (iii. 1448); and general works under Scepticism.

See R. Brodeisen, De Arcesila philosopho (1821); Aug. Geffers, De Arcesila (1842); Ritter and Preller, Hist, philos. graec. (1898); Ed. Zeller, Phil. d. Griech. (iii. 1448); and general works under Scepticism.


ARCH, JOSEPH (1826-  ), English politician, founder of the National Agricultural Labourers’ Union, was born at Barford, a village in Warwickshire, on the 10th of November 1826. His parents belonged to the labouring class. He inherited a strong sentiment of independence from his mother; and his objections to the social homage expected by those whom the catechism boldly styled his “betters” made him an “agitator.” Having educated himself by unremitting exertions, and acquired fluency of speech as a Methodist local preacher, he founded in 1872 the National Agricultural Labourers’ Union, of which he was president. A rise then came in the wages of agricultural labourers, but this had the unforeseen effect of destroying the union; for the labourers, deeming their object gained, ceased to “agitate.” Mr Arch nevertheless retained sufficient popularity to be returned to parliament for north-west Norfolk in 1885; and although defeated next year owing to his advocacy of Irish Home Rule, he regained his seat in 1892, and held it in 1895, retiring in 1900. He was deservedly respected in the House of Commons; seldom has an agitator been so little of a demagogue.

ARCH, JOSEPH (1826-  ), English politician and founder of the National Agricultural Labourers’ Union, was born in Barford, a village in Warwickshire, on November 10, 1826. His parents were part of the working class. He inherited a strong sense of independence from his mother, and his objections to the social respect expected by those the catechism confidently called his “betters” turned him into an “agitator.” He educated himself through relentless effort and gained fluency in speech as a local Methodist preacher. In 1872, he founded the National Agricultural Labourers’ Union, of which he became president. Subsequently, wages for agricultural workers increased, but this unexpectedly led to the union's decline, as the workers, believing they had achieved their goal, stopped “agitating.” However, Mr. Arch maintained enough popularity to be elected to parliament for north-west Norfolk in 1885; although he lost his seat the next year due to his support for Irish Home Rule, he regained it in 1892 and held it again in 1895, retiring in 1900. He was genuinely respected in the House of Commons; seldom has an agitator been so little of a demagogue.

A biography written by himself or under his direction, and edited by Lady Warwick (1898), tells the story of his career.

A biography that he wrote or oversaw, and edited by Lady Warwick (1898), shares the story of his career.


ARCH,1 in building, a constructional arrangement of blocks of any hard material, so disposed on the lines of some curve that they give mutual support one to the other.

ARCH,1 in building, a structural arrangement of blocks made of any strong material, positioned along a curve so that they support each other.

Fig. 1.

The blocks, which are technically known as voussoirs, should be of a wedge shape, the centre or top block (see fig. 1, A) being the keystone A; the lower blocks B B which rest on the supporting pier are the springers, the upper surface of which is called the skewback, C C; the side blocks, as D, are termed the haunches. The lower surface or soffit of the arch is the intrados, E, and the upper surface the extrados, F. The rise of the arch is the distance from the springing to the soffit, G, the width between the springers is called the span, H, and the radius I. The triangular spaces between the arches are termed spandrils, K.

The blocks, known as voussoirs, should have a wedge shape, with the center or top block (see fig. 1, A) being the keystone A; the lower blocks B B that sit on the supporting pier are the springers, and their upper surface is called the skewback, C C; the side blocks, labeled D, are called the haunches. The lower surface or soffit of the arch is the intrados, E, while the upper surface is the extrados, F. The rise of the arch is the distance from the springing to the soffit, G, the width between the springers is referred to as the span, H, and the radius I. The triangular spaces between the arches are known as spandrils, K.

The arch is employed for two purposes:—(1) to span an opening in a wall and support the superstructure; (2) when continuous to form a vault known as a barrel or waggon vault.

The arch serves two main purposes: (1) to span an opening in a wall and support the structure above it; (2) when extended continuously, it creates a vault known as a barrel or wagon vault.

The arch has been used from time immemorial by every nation, but owing to the tendency of the upper portion to sink, especially when bearing any superincumbent weight, it requires strong lateral support, and it is for this reason that in the earliest examples in unburnt brick at Nippur in Chaldaea, c. 4000 B.C., and at Rakakna (Requaqna) and Dendera in Egypt, 3500-3000 B.C., it was employed only below the level of the ground which served as an abutment on either side.

The arch has been utilized by every civilization since ancient times, but because the upper part tends to collapse, especially under any added weight, it needs strong side support. This is why in the earliest examples made of unbaked brick found at Nippur in Chaldaea, around 4000 B.C., and at Rakakna (Requaqna) and Dendera in Egypt, dating back to 3500-3000 B.C., it was only used below ground level, which acted as a support on both sides.

In the building of an arch, the voussoirs have to be temporarily 343 supported, until the keystone is inserted. This at the present day is effected by means of centreing an assemblage of timbers framed together, with its upper surface of the same form as the arch required; the voussoirs are laid on the centreing till the ring of the arch is completed. In the case of arches of small span, such as the early examples referred to, limited to about 6 ft., such centreing might be dispensed with in various ways, but it is difficult to see how the arches of the great entrance gateways, shown in the Assyrian bas-reliefs, could have been built without temporary support of some kind. In those days, when any amount of labour could be obtained, even the erection of a temporary wall might have been less costly than the employment of timber, of which there was great scarcity.

In building an arch, the wedge-shaped stones need to be temporarily supported until the keystone is put in place. Nowadays, this is done using a framework of timber, known as centering, with a top surface shaped like the arch. The wedge stones are laid on the centering until the arch is complete. For smaller arches, like the early examples that are about 6 ft. wide, centering can be skipped in various ways. However, it's hard to imagine how the large arches of the grand entrance gateways seen in Assyrian bas-reliefs could have been built without some sort of temporary support. Back then, when labor was abundant, even putting up a temporary wall might have been cheaper than using timber, which was quite scarce.

The Assyrian tradition would seem to have descended first to the Parthian builders, who in the palace of El Hadr built semicircular arches with regular voussoirs decoratively treated. The Sassanians who followed them employed the elliptical or egg-shaped arch, of which the lower part was built in horizontal courses up to about one-third of the height, which lessened the span of the arched portion.

The Assyrian tradition seems to have first passed on to the Parthian builders, who created semicircular arches with evenly placed voussoirs that were skillfully designed in the palace of El Hadr. The Sassanians that came after them used the elliptical or egg-shaped arch, where the lower portion was built in horizontal layers up to about one-third of the height, which reduced the span of the arched section.

In Europe the earliest arches were those built by the Etruscans, either over canals (see article Architecture: Etruscan), or in the entrance gateways of their towns. The skew-arch in the gateway at Perugia shows great knowledge in its execution. From the Etruscans the adoption of the arch passed to the Romans, who certainly employed centreing of some kind, but always economized its use, as is clearly shown by Choisy. Although their walls from the Augustan age were built in concrete, arches of brick were always turned over their entrance doorways, sometimes in two or three rings. The Romans utilized the arch in other ways, sometimes burying it in their concrete construction, as in their vaults, and sometimes introducing it as a veneer only, as in the Pantheon. In their monumental structures in stone, the arch was sometimes built with regular voussoirs, i.e. with a semicircular extrados, and sometimes with the joint carried far beyond. The latter was not done in the early examples of the Tabularium and the Theatre of Marcellus, but in the Colosseum and all the arches of triumph the joints run through the spandrils, notwithstanding the recognition of the arch proper by its moulded archivolt.

In Europe, the first arches were built by the Etruscans, either over canals (see article Architecture: Etruscan) or in the entrance gateways of their towns. The skew arch in the gateway at Perugia demonstrates impressive skill in its construction. From the Etruscans, the use of the arch was adopted by the Romans, who definitely used some form of centering but always aimed to minimize its use, as highlighted by Choisy. Although their walls from the Augustan period were made of concrete, arches of brick were consistently placed over their entrance doorways, sometimes in two or three rings. The Romans used the arch in various ways, sometimes incorporating it into their concrete structures, like their vaults, and sometimes using it merely as a façade, as seen in the Pantheon. In their stone monumental buildings, the arch was sometimes constructed with regular voussoirs, meaning it had a semicircular extrados, and sometimes with the joints extending much further. This wasn’t the case in the early examples of the Tabularium and the Theatre of Marcellus, but in the Colosseum and all the triumphal arches, the joints extended through the spandrels, even while the proper arch was recognized by its molded archivolt.

Although the value of the pointed arch as a stronger constructional feature than the semicircular (owing to the tendency to sink in the keystone of the latter) had been recognized by the Assyrian builders, who employed it in their drains, it was not used systematically as an architectural feature till the 9th century, in the mosque of Tulun at Cairo; it seems to have been regarded by the Mahommedans as an emblem of their faith, and its use spread through Syria to Persia, was brought to Sicily from Egypt, and was taken back by the Sicilian masons to Palestine and employed throughout the Crusaders’ churches during the 12th century. As the pointed arch had already, for constructional reasons, been employed in Périgord from the commencement of the 11th century, it does not follow that the Crusaders brought it from Palestine, but there is no doubt that its universal employment in France early in the 12th century may have been partly due to its adoption in the Crusaders’ churches. At first in Gothic work both the semicircular and pointed arches were used simultaneously in the same building, the larger arches being pointed, the smaller ones and windows being semicircular. The great value of the pointed arch in vaulting is described in the article Vault.

Although the pointed arch was recognized by Assyrian builders as a stronger construction feature than the semicircular arch (because the keystone of the latter tends to sink), it wasn't systematically used architecturally until the 9th century in the mosque of Tulun in Cairo. The Mahommedans saw it as a symbol of their faith, and its use spread from Syria to Persia, made its way to Sicily from Egypt, and was brought back to Palestine by Sicilian masons to be used in Crusader churches during the 12th century. Since the pointed arch was already utilized for construction reasons in Périgord from the start of the 11th century, it doesn't mean that the Crusaders introduced it from Palestine. However, it’s certain that its widespread use in France in the early 12th century may have been partly influenced by its adoption in the Crusader churches. Initially, Gothic architecture combined both semicircular and pointed arches in the same building, with larger arches being pointed and smaller ones and windows being semicircular. The significant value of the pointed arch in vaulting is detailed in the article Vault.

We have suggested that the pointed arch became an emblem of Mahommedan faith, and it was introduced in India but not as a constructive feature, for the Hindus objected to the arch, which they say never sleeps, meaning that it is always exerting a thrust which tends to its destruction. In India therefore it was built in horizontal courses with vertical slabs leaning against one another to form the apex. The Moors of north Africa, however, never employed it, preferring the horseshoe arch which they brought into Spain and developed in the mosque of Cordova. In the additions made to this mosque the prayer chamber was enriched by the caliph Mansur, who, to eke out the height, raised arch upon arch. In the Alhambra it appears in the decorative plaster work, and travels northwards into the south of France, where at Le Puy and elsewhere it is found decorating doorways and windows; in England it was employed towards the end of the 12th century.

We have suggested that the pointed arch became a symbol of the Islamic faith, introduced in India but not as a structural element, since the Hindus opposed the arch, claiming it never sleeps, meaning that it is constantly exerting pressure that leads to its collapse. Therefore, in India, it was constructed in horizontal layers with vertical slabs leaning against each other to form the apex. The Moors of North Africa, however, never used it, preferring the horseshoe arch, which they brought to Spain and developed in the mosque of Cordova. In the expansions made to this mosque, the prayer chamber was enhanced by Caliph Mansur, who, to increase the height, added arch upon arch. In the Alhambra, it appears in the decorative plasterwork and spreads north into southern France, where in Le Puy and other places, it decorates doorways and windows; in England, it was used toward the end of the 12th century.

About the middle of the 14th century at Gloucester the four-centred pointed arch was introduced, which became afterwards the leading characteristic feature of the Tudor style. In France they adopted the three-centred arch in the 15th century.

About the middle of the 14th century in Gloucester, the four-centered pointed arch was introduced, which later became the main defining feature of the Tudor style. In France, they adopted the three-centered arch in the 15th century.

The ogee arch was the natural result of the development of tracery in the commencement of the 14th century, and in Gloucester (about 1310) the foliations were run one into the other without the enclosing circles. About the middle of the 14th century, in the arcade of the first storey of the ducal palace in Venice, flowing tracery is found, from which the ogee arch there was probably derived, as throughout Venice it becomes the favourite feature in domestic architecture of that and the succeeding century.

The ogee arch naturally emerged from the evolution of tracery in the early 14th century, and in Gloucester (around 1310), the leaf patterns connected without the surrounding circles. By the mid-14th century, flowing tracery appears in the arcade of the first floor of the ducal palace in Venice, likely influencing the nearby ogee arch, which became a popular element in residential architecture throughout Venice during that century and the next.

The arches are of various forms as follows:—

The arches come in different shapes, as follows:—

2. Semicircular arch, the centre of which is in the same line with its springers.

2. Semicircular arch, the center of which is in the same line with its springers.

3. Segmental arch, where the centre is below the springing.

3. Segmental arch, where the center is below the springing.

4. Horseshoe arch, with the centre above the springing; employed in Moorish architecture.

4. Horseshoe arch, with the center above the springing; used in Moorish architecture.

5. Stilted arches, where the centre is below the springing, but the sides are carried down vertically.

5. Stilted arches, where the center is below the springing, but the sides are brought down vertically.

6. Equilateral pointed arches, described from two centres, the radius being the whole width of the arch.

6. Equilateral pointed arches, drawn from two centers, with the radius being the full width of the arch.

7. Drop arches, with centres within the arch.

7. Drop arches, with centers inside the arch.

8. Lancet arches, with centres outside the arch.

8. Lancet arches, with centers outside the arch.

9. Three centre arches, employed in French Flamboyant.

9. Three center arches, used in French Flamboyant style.

10. Four centre arches, employed in the Perpendicular and Tudor periods.

10. Four center arches, used during the Perpendicular and Tudor periods.

11. Ogee arches, with curves of counter flexure, found in English Decorated and French Flamboyant.

11. Ogee arches, with curves that bend in the opposite direction, are seen in English Decorated and French Flamboyant styles.

12. Pointed horseshoe arches, found in the mosque of Tulun, Cairo, 9th century.

12. Pointed horseshoe arches, found in the mosque of Tulun, Cairo, 9th century.

13. Pointed foiled arches, in the arcades of Beverley Minster (c. 1230) and Netley Abbey.

13. Pointed, decorated arches in the arcades of Beverley Minster (c. 1230) and Netley Abbey.

14. Cusped arch; Christchurch Priory, Hants.

14. Cusp arch; Christchurch Priory, Hampshire.

15. Multifoil cusped arch, invented by the Moors at Cordova in the 10th century.

15. Multifoil cusped arch, created by the Moors in Córdoba in the 10th century.

16. Flat arch, where the soffit is horizontal and sometimes slightly cambered (dotted line).

16. Flat arch, where the underside is horizontal and sometimes slightly curved (dotted line).

17. Upright elliptical arch, sometimes called the egg-shaped arch, employed in Egyptian and Sassanian architecture.

17. Upright elliptical arch, sometimes referred to as the egg-shaped arch, used in Egyptian and Sassanian architecture.

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18. The Tuscan arch, where the extrados takes the form of a pointed arch.

18. The Tuscan arch, where the outer curve shapes into a pointed arch.

19. The joggled arch used in medieval chimneypieces and in Mahommedan architecture.

19. The joggled arch used in medieval chimneys and in Islamic architecture.

20. The discharging or relieving arch, built above the architrave or lintel to take off the weight of the superstructure.

20. The discharging or relieving arch, built above the architrave or lintel to reduce the weight of the structure above.

21. The relieving arch as used in Egypt, in the pyramid of Cheops; and in Saxon architecture, where it was built with Roman bricks or tiles, or consisted of two sloping slabs of stone.

21. The relieving arch used in Egypt, found in the pyramid of Cheops; and in Saxon architecture, where it was made with Roman bricks or tiles, or consisted of two sloping slabs of stone.

(R. P. S.)

1 The ultimate derivation of “arch” is the Latin arcus, a bow, or arch, in origin meaning something bent, from which through the French is also derived “arc,” a curve. In French there are two words arche, one meaning a chest or coffer, from Latin arca (arcere, to keep close), hence the English “ark”; the other meaning a vaulted arch, such as that of a bridge, and derived from a Low Latin corruption of arcus, into arca (du Cange, Glossarium, s.v.). The word “arch,” prefixed to names of offices, seen in “archbishop,” “archdeacon,” “archduke,” &c., means “principal” or “chief,” and comes from the Greek prefix ἀρχ- or ἀρχι- from ἄρχειν, to begin, lead, or rule; it is also prefixed to other words, and usually with words implying hatred or detestation, such as “arch-fiend”, “arch-scoundrel”; it is from an adaptation of this use, as seen in such expressions as “arch-rogue,” extended to “arch-look,” “arch-face,” that the word comes to mean a mischievous, roguish expression of face or demeanour.

1 The word "arch" ultimately comes from the Latin arcus, which means a bow, or arch, originally indicating something bent. Through French, we also get the word “arc,” which signifies a curve. In French, there are two words arche: one means a chest or coffer, derived from Latin arca (arcere, to keep close), hence the English word “ark”; the other refers to a vaulted arch, like that of a bridge, coming from a Low Latin adaptation of arcus, into arca (du Cange, Glossarium, s.v.). The word “arch,” when added to job titles, as in “archbishop,” “archdeacon,” “archduke,” etc., means “principal” or “chief,” deriving from the Greek prefix arch- or arch- from lead, which means to begin, lead, or rule. It’s also attached to other words, often with a negative connotation, such as “arch-fiend” or “arch-scoundrel.” From a variation of this usage, seen in expressions like “arch-rogue,” it has extended to terms like “arch-look” or “arch-face,” resulting in a meaning that indicates a mischievous, roguish expression or demeanor.


ARCHAEOLOGY (from Gr. ἀρχαῖα, ancient things, and λόγος, theory or science), a general term for the study of antiquities. The precise application of the term has varied from time to time with the progress of knowledge, according to the character of the subjects investigated and the purpose for which they were studied. At one time it was thought improper to use it in relation to any but the artistic remains of Greece and Rome, i.e. the so-called classical archaeology (now dealt with in this encyclopaedia under the headings of Greek Art and Roman Art); but of late years it has commonly been accepted as including the whole range of ancient human activity, from the first traceable appearance of man on the earth to the middle ages. It may thus be conceived how vast a field archaeology embraces, and how intimately it is connected with the sciences of geology (q.v.) and anthropology (q.v.), while it naturally includes within its borders the consideration of all the civilizations of ancient times.

ARCHAEOLOGY (from Gr. ancient, ancient things, and reason, theory or science) is a general term for studying ancient artifacts. The exact meaning of the term has changed over time with advancements in knowledge, depending on the types of subjects being studied and the goals behind them. At one point, it was deemed inappropriate to apply it to anything other than the artistic remains of Greece and Rome, known as classical archaeology (now discussed in this encyclopedia under the headings of Greek Art and Roman Art); however, in recent years, it has been widely accepted to encompass the entire spectrum of ancient human activity, from the earliest evidence of humanity on Earth to the medieval period. This highlights the extensive scope of archaeology and its close relationship with the sciences of geology (q.v.) and anthropology (q.v.), while it naturally includes the study of all ancient civilizations.

In dealing with so vast a subject, it becomes necessary to distinguish. The archaeology of zoological species constitutes the sphere of palaeontology (q.v.), while that of botanical species is dealt with as palaeobotany (q.v.); and every different science thus has its archaeological side. For practical purposes it is now convenient to separate the sphere of archaeology in its relation to the study of the purely artistic character of ancient remains, from that of the investigation of these remains as an instrument for arriving at conclusions as to the political and social history of the nations of antiquity; and in this work the former is regarded primarily as “art” and dealt with in the articles devoted to the history of art or the separate arts, while “archaeology” is particularly regarded as the study of the evidences for the history of mankind, whether or not the remains are themselves artistically and aesthetically valuable. In this sense a knowledge of the archaeology is part of the materials from which every historical article in this encyclopaedia is constructed, and in recent years no subject has been more fertile in yielding information than “archaeology,” as representing the work of trained excavators and students of antiquity in all parts of the world, but notably in the countries round the Mediterranean. It is for its services in illuminating the days before those of documentary history and for checking and reinforcing the evidence of the raw material (the “unwritten history” of architecture, tombs, art-products, &c.), that recent archaeological work has been so notable. The work of the literary critic and historian has been amplified by the spade-work of the expert excavator and explorer to an extent undreamt of by former generations; and ancient remains, instead of being treated merely as interesting objects of art, have been forced to give up their secret to the historian, as evidence for the period, character and affiliations of the peoples who produced and used them. The increase of precise knowledge of the past, due to greater opportunities of topographical research, more care and observation in dealing with ancient remains and improved methods of studying them in museums (q.v.) and collections, has led to more accurate reading of results by a comparison of views, under the auspices of learned societies and institutions, thus raising archaeology from among the more empirical branches of learning into the region of the more exact sciences. This change has improved not only the status of archaeology but also its material, for the higher standard of work now demanded necessarily acts as a deterrent on the poorly equipped worker, and the tendency is for the general result to be of a higher quality.

In addressing such a vast topic, it's important to make distinctions. The archaeology of animal species falls under paleontology (see entry), while that of plant species is known as paleobotany (see entry); each scientific discipline has its archaeological aspect. For practical reasons, it's now useful to separate archaeology's focus on the purely artistic nature of ancient artifacts from studying these artifacts to draw conclusions about the political and social history of ancient civilizations. In this work, the artistic aspect is primarily treated as "art" and discussed in the articles related to the history of art or specific arts, while "archaeology" is defined as the study of evidence for human history, regardless of whether the artifacts are artistically or aesthetically appealing. In this context, an understanding of archaeology is part of the foundation for every historical article in this encyclopedia. Recently, no subject has been as fruitful in providing insights as “archaeology,” reflecting the efforts of trained excavators and scholars of the past worldwide, particularly in Mediterranean countries. Its contributions in shedding light on periods before documented history and confirming raw historical evidence (the “unwritten history” of structures, tombs, artworks, etc.) have made recent archaeological efforts particularly significant. The work of literary critics and historians has been enriched by the fieldwork of excavators and explorers in ways previous generations never imagined. Rather than simply being seen as interesting art pieces, ancient artifacts have revealed their secrets to historians, serving as evidence regarding the time, character, and connections of the peoples who created and utilized them. The rise of precise knowledge about the past, driven by enhanced topographical research opportunities, careful observations of ancient remains, and improved methods of studying them in museums (see entry) and collections, has facilitated more accurate interpretations through comparative analysis, backed by learned societies and institutions. This has elevated archaeology from a more empirical field into the realm of exact sciences. This transformation has not only enhanced the status of archaeology but also improved its output, as the higher standards now required naturally discourage poorly equipped researchers, leading to generally higher quality results.

The archaeological details concerning all subjects which have their “unwritten history” are dealt with in the separate articles in this work, including the ancient civilizations of Assyria, Egypt and other countries and peoples, while the articles on separate sites where excavations have been particularly noteworthy may be referred to for their special interest; see also Anthropology; Ethnology, &c. It remains here to deal generally with the early conditions of the prehistoric ancient world in their broader aspects, which constitute the starting-place for the archaeologist in various parts of the world at different times, and the foundations of our present understanding of the primitive epochs in the history of man.

The archaeological details about all subjects with their “unwritten history” are covered in separate articles in this work, including the ancient civilizations of Assyria, Egypt, and other countries and peoples. The articles on specific sites where excavations have been particularly significant can be referred to for their special interest; see also Anthropology; Ethnology, etc. Here, we will generally address the early conditions of the prehistoric ancient world in broader terms, which serve as the starting point for archaeologists in various parts of the world at different times, and the groundwork of our current understanding of the primitive periods in human history.

The beginning of archaeology, as the study of pre-documentary history, may be broadly held to follow on the last of the geological periods, viz., the Quaternary, though it is claimed, and with some reason, that traces of man have been found in Quaternary period. deposits of the preceding or Tertiary period. Although there is no valid reason against the existence of Tertiary man, it must be confessed that the evidence in favour of the belief is of a very inconclusive and unconvincing kind. The discussion has been mainly confined to the two questions (1) whether the deposit containing the relics was without doubt of Tertiary times, and (2) whether the objects found showed undoubted signs of human workmanship. Vast quantities of material have been brought forward, and endless discussions have taken place, but hitherto without carrying entire conviction to the minds of the more serious and cautious students of prehistoric archaeology. A chronic difficulty, and one which can never be entirely removed, is our ignorance of the precise methods of nature’s working. It is an obvious fact, that natural forces, such as glacial action, earthquakes, landslips and the like, must crush and chip flints and break up animal remains, grinding and scratching them in masses of gravel or sand. If it were possible to determine with precision what’ were the peculiarities of the flint or bone, thus altered by natural agencies, it would be easy to separate them from others purposely made by man to serve some useful end. Our present knowledge, however, does not allow us to go so far in dealing with the ruder early attempts of man to fabricate weapons or implements. Even the one feature that is commonly held to determine human agency, the “bulb of percussion,” cannot be considered satisfactory, without collateral evidence of some kind. Flint breaks with what is called a conchoidal fracture, as do many other substances, such as glass. Thus on the face of a flint flake, at the end where the blow was delivered to detach it from the nodule, is seen a lump or bulb, which is usually regarded as evidence of human workmanship. To produce such a bulb it is necessary to deliver a somewhat heavy blow of a peculiar kind at a particular point of a flattened surface; and the operation requires a certain amount of practice. The fulfilment of all the necessary conditions might well be a rare occurrence in nature, and the bulb of percussion has come to be regarded as the hall-mark of human manufacture; but recent investigations have shown that the intervention of man is not necessary and that natural forces frequently produce a similar result. When, therefore, it is a question whether or no a group of rude flints are of human workmanship, evidence of design or purpose in their forms must be established. If this be found, and in addition if a number of flints, all having this character of design, be found together, then and then only is it safe to admit them into the domain of archaeology. There can be no doubt that much time and energy have been wasted, and a number of intelligent workers have been fruitlessly occupied in following up archaeological will-o’-the-wisps, through neglecting this elementary precaution.

The start of archaeology, viewed as the study of history before written records, can generally be said to follow the last geological period, known as the Quaternary. However, it’s been argued, and with some merit, that evidence of humans has been discovered in deposits from the earlier Tertiary period. While there’s no strong reason to dismiss the existence of humans in the Tertiary, it must be acknowledged that the supporting evidence is quite inconclusive and unconvincing. The discussion has mainly focused on two questions: (1) Was the deposit containing the artifacts definitely from the Tertiary period? and (2) Did the objects found clearly show signs of human creation? A lot of material has been presented, and countless debates have occurred, but so far, serious and cautious scholars of prehistoric archaeology remain unconvinced. A constant challenge, which can never be fully resolved, is our lack of understanding of how natural processes operate. It’s a clear fact that natural forces, like glacial movement, earthquakes, and landslides, can crush and chip flints and break animal remains, grinding and scratching them among gravel or sand. If it were possible to accurately identify the specific characteristics of flint or bone modified by natural forces, we could easily distinguish them from items deliberately made by humans for practical use. However, our current knowledge isn’t sufficient to accurately assess the earliest crude attempts by humans to create tools or weapons. Even the one feature that’s generally accepted as evidence of human work, the “bulb of percussion,” cannot be deemed satisfactory without additional evidence. Flint fractures in a way called conchoidal fracture, similar to many other materials, like glass. Thus, on the surface of a flint flake, at the point where it was struck to detach it from the whole piece, there’s a bump or bulb that is typically interpreted as a sign of human craftsmanship. Creating such a bulb requires delivering a relatively heavy blow of a specific kind at a precise point on a flat surface; this process takes a certain level of skill. Meeting all the necessary conditions could be a rare event in nature, and the bulb of percussion has become regarded as a hallmark of human manufacture; however, recent studies have indicated that human intervention isn’t needed and that natural forces can often create a similar effect. Therefore, when determining if a collection of rough flints is of human origin, proof of design or intent in their shapes needs to be demonstrated. If this is found, and additionally if several flints sharing this design quality are found together, then and only then is it reasonable to include them in the field of archaeology. There’s no doubt that a lot of time and effort has been wasted, and many intelligent individuals have spent their time chasing archaeological mirages by neglecting this fundamental precaution.

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Whether or no man produced flint implements before Quaternary times, it would seem to be a necessity that he should have passed through an earlier stage, before arriving at the precision of workmanship and the fixed types Eolithic. found in the old Stone Age deposits known as palaeolithic. It is now claimed that this earlier and ruder stage has actually been discovered in what are known as the Plateau-gravels of Kent, in Belgium, and even in Egypt, and the name of eolithic (ἠὠς, dawn, λίθος, stone) has been bestowed upon them. The controversy as to the human character has been very keen, some alleging that the fractured edges and even the definite and fairly constant types are entirely produced by natural forces. Sir Joseph Prestwich in England, and Alfred Rutot in Belgium, the latter arguing from his own discoveries in that country, have strongly supported the artificial character of the relics. On the other hand it is pointed out that the existence of these implements on the high levels of Kent furnished confirmation of Sir Joseph Prestwich’s theory of the submergence of the district, and that his support was thus somewhat biassed, while the geological conditions in Belgium are not quite comparable with those of the Kent plateau; and the Belgian evidence, whatever it may be worth in itself, is of no avail as corroboration of the Kentish case. It is to be regretted that the conditions are not more convincing, for, as stated above, they agree fairly well with the evolution theory of man’s handiwork, and if they could be accepted, would carry back the evidences to a more remote time when the physical features of Kent were of a very different character. The critics of eoliths have brought forward some facts that at first sight would seem to be of a very damaging nature. It was observed that in the process of cement manufacture the flints that had passed through a rotary machine in which they were violently struck by its teeth or knocked against each other, possessed just those features that were claimed as indisputable proof of man’s handiwork, and that even the forms were the same. These statements have, of course, been met by counter-statements equally forcible, and the matter may still be considered to be in suspense. The great struggle, therefore, is now more closely restricted to the nature of the chipping than as to the quasi-geological question, and if the solution is ever to be found, it will be by means of a closer examination and a better understanding of the difference between intentional and accidental flaking.

Whether or not humans made flint tools before the Quaternary period, it seems necessary for them to have gone through an earlier stage before achieving the craftsmanship and consistent types found in the old Stone Age deposits known as the Paleolithic. It's now claimed that this earlier and cruder stage has actually been found in what are called the Plateau gravels of Kent, Belgium, and even Egypt, and they've been named eolithic (Dawn, dawn, stone, stone). The debate over whether these finds are human-made has been intense, with some arguing that the chipped edges and even the well-defined and relatively consistent shapes were entirely created by natural processes. Sir Joseph Prestwich in England and Alfred Rutot in Belgium, the latter basing his argument on his own discoveries, have strongly defended the idea that these relics are man-made. On the other hand, it's pointed out that the presence of these tools on the high ground of Kent supports Sir Joseph Prestwich's theory about the area's submergence, suggesting that his support might be somewhat biased, and that the geological conditions in Belgium aren't exactly comparable to those of the Kent plateau; thus, the Belgian evidence, no matter its value, doesn't help confirm the Kent findings. It's unfortunate that the evidence isn't more convincing, as it aligns fairly well with the theory of human evolution, and if accepted, would push the timeline of evidence back to a much earlier period when Kent's physical features were quite different. Critics of eoliths have presented some facts that at first glance appear quite damaging. It was noted that during cement manufacturing, the flints that were processed in a rotary machine—where they were struck forcefully by its teeth or knocked against each other—exhibited exactly the characteristics claimed as undeniable proof of human craftsmanship, and even the shapes were similar. These claims have, of course, been countered with equally strong arguments, leaving the matter still open for debate. Therefore, the main contention is now more focused on the nature of the chipping rather than the quasi-geological aspect, and if a solution is to be found, it will require a closer examination and a better understanding of the difference between deliberate and accidental flaking.

On reaching the Palaeolithic period we come to firmer ground and to evidence that is more certain and generally accepted. This evidence is fundamentally geological, inasmuch as the age of the archaeological remains is dependent Palaeolithic. upon that of the beds in which they are found. That they were deposited at the same time is now no longer questioned. The flints are found to have the same colour and surface characteristics as the unworked nodules among which they lie, and are generally rolled and abraded in the same way. This in itself suffices to show that the worked and unworked flints were deposited in their present stratigraphical position at the same time. The remote age of the beds themselves is demonstrated by the presence of bones of animals either now extinct or found only in far distant latitudes, such as the mammoth, reindeer, rhinoceros, &c., and in some cases these bones are found in such relative positions as to prove they were deposited with the flesh still adhering to them, and also that the animal was contemporary with the makers of the flint implements. Evidence of a somewhat different kind is provided for the palaeolithic period by certain caverns that have been discovered in England and on the continent. In these limestone caves palaeolithic man has lived, slept, eaten his food and made his tools and weapons. Much of his handiwork has been left, with the bones of animals on which he lived, scattered upon the floor of the cave, and has been sealed up by the infiltration of lime-charged water, so that the deposit remains, untouched to our own day, below an impermeable bed of stalagmite. In such circumstances there can be no doubt of the contemporaneous character of the remains, natural or artificial, if found on the same level. Moreover, so far as type is a criterion of age, the flint tools found in the cave deposits tend to confirm the date assigned to those of the river-gravels.

On reaching the Paleolithic period, we find more reliable evidence that is widely accepted. This evidence is primarily geological since the age of the archaeological remains depends on the layers they are found in. It is no longer questioned that they were deposited at the same time. The flints have the same color and surface characteristics as the unworked nodules surrounding them, and they are generally rolled and worn in the same way. This alone is enough to show that the worked and unworked flints were deposited in their current stratigraphical position simultaneously. The ancient age of the layers themselves is confirmed by the presence of bones from animals that are either now extinct or found only in very distant regions, like the mammoth, reindeer, rhinoceros, etc. In some instances, these bones are found in positions that indicate they were deposited with the flesh still on them, proving that the animals lived at the same time as the makers of the flint tools. Different evidence for the Paleolithic period comes from certain caverns that have been discovered in England and on the continent. In these limestone caves, Paleolithic people lived, slept, ate their food, and made their tools and weapons. Much of their handiwork has been left behind, along with the bones of the animals they lived on, scattered across the cave floor, and has been preserved by lime-rich water infiltration, so that the deposit remains untouched to this day, beneath an impermeable layer of stalagmite. In such cases, there is no doubt about the contemporaneous nature of the remains, whether natural or artificial, if found at the same level. Additionally, as far as type is concerned as a criterion of age, the flint tools found in the cave deposits tend to support the timeline assigned to those in the river gravels.

It is fairly certain that about the middle of the Tertiary period the northern hemisphere possessed a temperate climate, such that even the polar regions were habitable. But the physical aspect of northern Europe was very different from that of Quaternary times. North of a line drawn roughly from southern England to St Petersburg all was sea. It was during the latter half of the Tertiary period that the continent assumed its present general form, though even in Pleistocene (Quaternary) times England and Ireland formed part of it. The great change of climate from temperate to arctic conditions during the latter half of the Tertiary period has been interpreted in various ways, no one of which is yet universally accepted. There can be little doubt, however, that no single cause was responsible for so complete a change. There may have been some alteration in the relative positions of the earth and the sun, which would conceivably have produced it; but what is practically certain is that the physical geography of northern Europe was affected by considerable difference in level, and it is clear that the raising of mountain ranges and the general elevation of the continent must necessarily have reacted on the climatic conditions. If in the later Tertiary time we find that the Alps, the Carpathians and the Caucasus have come into existence, it is not surprising to find that these huge condensers have brought about a humid condition of the continent to such an extent that this phase has been called the Pluvial Age. The humidity, however, was in some ways only a secondary result of the protrusion of high mountain ranges. The primary cause of the physical conditions that we now find in the valleys and plains was the formation of glaciers. These rivers of ice descending far into the lower levels during the winter months, melted during the summer, causing enormous volumes of water to rush through the valleys and over the plains, carrying with it masses of mud and boulders which were left stranded sometimes at immense distances. The intensity and force of the rivers thus formed would depend upon two factors, first the extent of the watershed, and secondly, the height of the mountains from which the water was derived. The result of increasing cold was that in course of time the northern hemisphere was surmounted by a cap of ice, of immense thickness (about 6000 ft.) in the Scandinavian area and gradually becoming thinner towards the south, but at no time does it seem to have extended quite to the south of England. This is proved by the absence of boulder-clay (glacial mud) in the districts south of London. These arctic conditions were not, however, continuous, but alternated with periods of a much less rigorous temperature during what has been called the Ice Age. Remains both of mammals and plants have been found, under conditions that are held to prove this alternation.

It’s fairly certain that around the middle of the Tertiary period, the northern hemisphere had a temperate climate, making even polar regions livable. However, the landscape of northern Europe looked very different from what it was like during the Quaternary period. North of a line roughly drawn from southern England to St. Petersburg was all sea. It was during the latter half of the Tertiary period that the continent took on its current general shape, although even in Pleistocene (Quaternary) times, England and Ireland were part of it. The significant shift in climate from temperate to arctic conditions during the latter half of the Tertiary has been interpreted in various ways, with none of those interpretations being universally accepted yet. There’s little doubt, though, that no single factor caused such a dramatic change. There may have been some changes in the relative positions of the earth and the sun that could have caused it, but it’s pretty certain that the physical geography of northern Europe was impacted by significant differences in elevation, and the rise of mountain ranges and the overall elevation of the continent would have necessarily influenced the climate. As we see the Alps, the Carpathians, and the Caucasus form in the later Tertiary period, it’s not surprising these massive mountains created a humid environment across the continent, leading to this phase being called the Pluvial Age. However, the humidity was, in some ways, just a secondary result of the emergence of high mountain ranges. The primary cause of the physical conditions we now observe in the valleys and plains was the formation of glaciers. These rivers of ice extended far into the lower levels during winter and melted in summer, causing vast amounts of water to rush through valleys and across plains, carrying large quantities of mud and boulders that sometimes ended up stranded at great distances. The intensity and force of the rivers formed this way depended on two factors: the size of the watershed and the height of the mountains supplying the water. As temperatures dropped, over time, the northern hemisphere was covered by a thick ice cap (about 6000 ft.) in the Scandinavian region, gradually becoming thinner toward the south, but it never quite reached as far south as England. This is evidenced by the lack of boulder-clay (glacial mud) in areas south of London. However, these arctic conditions were not continuous but alternated with periods of much milder temperatures during what’s referred to as the Ice Age. Remains of both mammals and plants have been discovered under conditions that support this alternation.

Such being the natural forces at work remodelling the surface of the earth; forces of such gigantic power as to be almost inconceivable in these more placid times, it can easily be understood how, in the course of the many thousands of years before the Quaternary period, when the surface of the globe attained its present aspect, the powerful river-systems of Europe wore their beds deep into the solid rocks. In some cases in Europe the erosive power of the river has worn through its bed to such an extent that the present stream is some hundreds of feet lower than its forerunner in palaeolithic times. From various causes, however, the rivers did not always wear for themselves a deep channel, but spread themselves over a wide area. This seems to have been the case with the Thames near London: the river-bed is not of any great depth, but at various periods it has occupied the space between Clapton on the north-east and Clapham on the south-west. It must not be assumed that the whole of this area of 7 m. or more was filled by the river at any one time, but rather that during the course of the palaeolithic period the river had its bed somewhere between these two limits. For instance, it is probable that at one period the bank of the Thames was at a point nearly midway between the northern and southern limits, where Gray’s Inn Road now stands. It was here that the earliest recorded palaeolithic 346 implement (now in the British Museum) was found towards the close of the 17th century in association with mammoth bones. But it is safe to say that the Thames was a very much wider and more imposing river in palaeolithic times than it is now, when its average width at London is under 300 yds. As, in the course of ages, it changed its bed and by degrees lessened in size and volume, it would leave, on the terraces formed on its banks, the deposits of brick-earth and gravel brought down by the stream, and it is on these terraces that the relics of palaeolithic man are found, sometimes in great quantities. It will be obvious from the nature of the case that the highest terraces, and those farthest apart, should contain the earliest implements; but it is by no means easy in the present state of the land surface and with our present knowledge, to place the remains in their relative sequence. More accurate observation, and a better understanding of the conditions under which these deposits were made, should solve many such problems. Much light has been thrown upon many points by Worthington Smith, who has excavated with great care two palaeolithic floors at Clapton and at Caddington near Dunstable. The latter discovery was of quite exceptional interest as confirming the geological evidence by that of archaeology. In this case the original level at which palaeolithic man had worked was clearly defined, and was prolific of dark-grey implements, which had evidently been made on the spot, as Smith found that many of the flakes could be replaced on the blocks or cores from which they had been struck by palaeolithic man; there were also the flint hammers that had been used in the operation. Above the floor was a layer of brick-earth, again covered by contorted drift, in which also implements occurred, but of a very different kind from those found below. In place of being sharp and unabraded, and with the refuse flakes accompanying them, they were rolled and disfigured, of an ochreous tint, and evidently had been transported in the drift from a much higher level now no longer existing, as the site where they occurred is the highest in the vicinity, about 500-600 ft. above sea-level. Here then we have a clear case of palaeolithic man being compelled to abandon his working place on the lower level by the descent of the waters containing the products of his own forerunners, probably then very remote. In this case the sequence of the various strata may be considered certain, and the remains thus accurately determined and correlated are naturally of extreme value and importance. But even this does not enable us to diagnose another discovery unless the internal evidence is equally clear and conclusive. One point of importance that may be noted is that the older abraded implements were mostly of the usual drift type, while the more recent ones from the “floor” contained forms more highly developed and elaborated, such as occur in the French caves. Explorations of this kind, carefully conducted in a strictly scientific spirit by men of training and intelligence, are the only means by which real progress will be made in this puzzling branch of archaeology.

Given the immense natural forces reshaping the Earth's surface—forces so powerful they are almost unimaginable in these calmer times—it’s easy to see how, over many thousands of years before the Quaternary period, when the Earth's surface took on its current appearance, the major river systems of Europe cut deep channels into solid rock. In some parts of Europe, rivers have eroded their beds so much that today’s streams are several hundred feet lower than they were during the Paleolithic era. However, due to various reasons, rivers didn’t always carve out deep channels, instead spreading over wider areas. This seems to have happened with the Thames near London: the riverbed isn't very deep, but at different times, it has covered the space between Clapton in the northeast and Clapham in the southwest. It shouldn’t be assumed that the entire area of over 7 miles was occupied by the river at any one time; rather, throughout the Paleolithic period, the river's bed could have been located somewhere along that stretch. For instance, at one time, the banks of the Thames may have been nearly halfway between the northern and southern limits, around where Gray’s Inn Road is now. It was here that the earliest recorded Paleolithic tool (now in the British Museum) was found in the late 17th century alongside mammoth bones. It’s safe to say that the Thames was much wider and more impressive during Paleolithic times than it is today, where its average width at London is under 300 yards. As it gradually changed its course and shrank in size and volume over the ages, it left behind deposits of brick-earth and gravel on the terraces formed along its banks, and it’s on these terraces that many Paleolithic human relics have been found, sometimes in large quantities. It’s clear that the highest and farthest terraces should contain the earliest tools; however, it’s not easy, given the current state of the land and our existing knowledge, to arrange these remains in their correct order. More precise observations and a better understanding of the conditions under which these deposits were made should help unravel many of these issues. Worthington Smith has shed light on several points by carefully excavating two Paleolithic floors at Clapton and Caddington near Dunstable. The latter discovery was particularly significant because it confirmed geological evidence through archaeology. Here, the original level where Paleolithic people worked was clearly defined, and many dark-grey tools, which had clearly been made on site, were found; Smith discovered that many flakes could be matched to the blocks or cores from which they had been struck, alongside the flint hammers used in the process. Above this layer were deposits of brick-earth, covered by disturbed drift, which also contained tools but of a different type than those below. Instead of being sharp and unweathered with accompanying refuse flakes, the upper tools were rolled and worn down, with an ochreous tint, clearly having been moved from a much higher, now non-existent level, as this location is the highest around, about 500-600 feet above sea level. So, this provides a clear example of Paleolithic people needing to leave their working area on the lower level due to rising waters carrying the remnants of their distant predecessors. This sequence of various layers can be considered certain, and the remains that are accurately identified are extremely valuable and important. However, this doesn’t help us understand another discovery unless the internal evidence is equally clear and convincing. One important observation is that the older, weathered tools were mostly of the typical drift type, while the more recent ones from the “floor” were more advanced and sophisticated, resembling those found in French caves. Carefully conducted explorations like this, undertaken in a strictly scientific manner by trained and knowledgeable individuals, are the only way to make real progress in this complex area of archaeology.

Although many problems yet remain to be solved in England, its small area, and the relatively large number of workers, have together sufficed to put the main facts of the earlier stages of man’s existence on a fairly satisfactory basis. In France, owing to the richness of the results, a great number of trained and ardent workers have made equal, if not better, progress. But unfortunately the real scientific spirit is not invariably found. Not so long ago an apparently serious writer in a well-known scientific magazine gave a detailed account of his studies in primitive methods and explained at great length his attempts at the manufacture of flint and stone implements. He found by the processes he adopted that it was much more easy for him to produce a polished implement than one merely flaked. From this fact he seriously argued that a great mistake had been made in the relative ages of the neolithic and palaeolithic periods, and that the former must necessarily be the older of the two. The evidence of geological position and of the mammalian remains accompanying the obviously older flints was entirely disregarded, just as on the other hand it was forgotten that in regard to neolithic remains the proofs were in every way in favour of a relatively modern origin. Such attempts not only bring the serious study of early man into disrepute, but tend to retard the progress of real knowledge and are therefore to be deplored and when possible discouraged.

Although many problems still need to be addressed in England, its small size and the relatively large number of workers have been enough to establish the main facts about the earlier stages of human existence on a fairly solid foundation. In France, due to the wealth of findings, many skilled and passionate workers have made equal, if not better, progress. Unfortunately, the true scientific spirit is not always present. Not too long ago, a seemingly serious writer in a well-known scientific magazine provided a detailed account of his studies on primitive methods and elaborated on his attempts to create flint and stone tools. He found that it was much easier for him to produce a polished tool than one that was simply flaked. From this observation, he seriously argued that there was a significant mistake in the relative ages of the Neolithic and Paleolithic periods, claiming that the former must be the older of the two. He completely ignored the evidence from geological context and the mammalian remains found alongside the clearly older flints, and conveniently forgotten were the facts showing that the Neolithic remains were in every way supportive of a more modern origin. Such attempts not only tarnish the serious study of early humanity but also hinder the advancement of genuine knowledge and should therefore be discouraged whenever possible.

Caves (q.v.) have been at all periods regarded as something uncanny and mysterious, with perhaps a tinge of the supernatural. In classical times they were associated with semi-divine beings, with oracles, and even with the Cave Period. gods themselves, while half the legends of dwarfs and gnomes that run through the folk-lore of medieval and modern Europe are associated with caves. They have been used as shelters or habitations at all times, and in examining them it is fully as necessary to sift the evidence of age as it would be in dealing with the river-gravels. Their exploration in the first instance may well have been due to chance, but it is fairly certain that during the 16th century the search for the horn of the unicorn as an antidote to disease, was responsible for the opening up of a certain number. Among the finds were no doubt the fossil bones of Quaternary animals to which mythical names and imaginary properties were attached, and the popular belief in such amulets naturally gave a great impetus to the search. It is, however, only a little more than a century ago that these investigations took anything like a scientific turn, and even then they had only a palaeontological end in view. The idea that archaeology entered into the matter was not at all realized for some years. The remains of many extinct or migrated animals, such as the hyena, grizzly bear, reindeer and bison, were found in quantities in the now famous cave at Gailenreuth in Franconia; and later, William Buckland explored the equally well-known hyena-cave at Kirkdale in Yorkshire, where he demonstrated that these animals had lived on the spot, feeding on the mammoth, rhinoceros and other creatures that had been their prey. The remains of man, however, had not been found, nor were they even looked for. It was not until Kent’s cavern, near Torquay, was examined by the Rev. J. McEnery, that man was clearly proved to have been contemporary with these extinct beasts. So contrary was this contention to the ideas prevalent in the second quarter of the 19th century, that the pioneer in this work had died (in 1841) before the immense importance of his discovery was admitted. To Godwin Austen in the first place and to W. Pengelley in the second, with the aid of the British Association, was due the vindication of McEnery’s veracity and accuracy.

Caves (q.v.) have always been seen as eerie and mysterious places, often with a hint of the supernatural. In ancient times, they were linked to semi-divine beings, oracles, and even the gods themselves. Many of the tales about dwarfs and gnomes throughout European folklore, both medieval and modern, are tied to caves. They’ve served as shelters and homes throughout history, and studying them requires just as much care in examining their age as one would in looking at river gravels. Initially, their exploration might have happened by chance, but it’s quite certain that in the 16th century, the search for the unicorn's horn as a cure for diseases led to the discovery of several caves. Among the finds were undoubtedly the fossilized bones of Quaternary animals, which were given mythical names and imagined properties. The popular belief in such magical objects fueled the search for them. However, it wasn't until just over a century ago that these investigations took on a scientific approach, and even then, the focus was primarily on paleontology. The role of archaeology in this field wasn’t acknowledged for several years. Numerous remains of extinct or migrated animals, like hyenas, grizzly bears, reindeer, and bison, were found in the now-famous cave at Gailenreuth in Franconia. Later, William Buckland explored the well-known hyena cave at Kirkdale in Yorkshire, demonstrating that these animals had lived there and fed on mammoths, rhinoceroses, and other creatures. However, human remains had not been found, nor were they actively sought. It wasn’t until the Rev. J. McEnery examined Kent’s Cavern near Torquay that it was clearly established that humans coexisted with these extinct animals. This claim went against the popular beliefs of the 1840s, and the pioneer of this research had passed away in 1841 before the significance of his discovery was recognized. The validation of McEnery's honesty and accuracy is credited to Godwin Austen first and then to W. Pengelley, with support from the British Association.

Several circumstances conspire to give a special interest to Kent’s cavern, and not the least is the fact that the age and appearance of the various strata indicate that it has been the home or the refuge of human beings at all ages even up to medieval times, and perhaps from a period even more remote than is the case elsewhere. In the black mould that formed the uppermost layer were found fragments of medieval pottery, and relatively in close proximity were ancient British and Roman remains as well as relics of the earliest days of metallurgy, in the shape of bronze fragments. The two thousand years or more that may have separated the oldest from the most modern of these later products, is as nothing in comparison with the immense intervals that lie between the earliest of them and the infinitely more remote period when gigantic mammals first inhabited the cave. Attempts have been made from time to time to express in years what the interval must have been: but as the computations have differed by hundreds of thousands of years, according to the method adopted, it is scarcely wise to do more than speculate. Beneath the black mould, containing what may be called the recent remains, was a layer of stalagmite, some feet in thickness; and under this at one place was a great quantity of charcoal, which has been with good reason assumed to show the site of fireplaces. A quantity of implements of palaeolithic type was found, but the main layer at this level consisted of a reddish clay known as cave-earth, and in this deposit were implements both of flint and horn, as well as bones of extinct animals. The flint implements were mostly of the usual river-drift type, but some were of types generally confined to cave-deposits of this period; while the barbed harpoon 347 heads, and more especially a bone needle, were definitely of the cave class, so well represented in the caves of Dordogne. Again, below the cave-earth was a breccia formed of limestone and sandstone pebbles cemented together by a calcareous paste. In this also were found implements and bones of bears.

Several factors make Kent's cave particularly interesting, especially since the age and appearance of the different layers suggest it has been inhabited or used as a refuge by humans throughout history, even up to medieval times, and possibly from even earlier periods than what's found elsewhere. In the black soil that made up the top layer, fragments of medieval pottery were discovered, and relatively nearby were remains from ancient British and Roman times, along with relics from the earliest days of metallurgy, in the form of bronze fragments. The gap of over two thousand years that might separate the oldest from the most recent of these artifacts is insignificant compared to the vast time spans between the earliest finds and the incredibly ancient period when gigantic mammals first occupied the cave. Attempts have been made to estimate this time gap in years, but computations have varied by hundreds of thousands of years depending on the methods used, so it's not very wise to do anything more than speculate. Beneath the black soil, which contains what we can call the recent remains, there was a layer of stalagmite several feet thick; and below this at one spot was a large amount of charcoal, which is reasonably assumed to indicate the location of fireplaces. A number of tools resembling those from the Paleolithic era were found, but the main layer at this level was made up of a reddish clay known as cave-earth, and in this layer were tools made of both flint and horn, as well as bones of now-extinct animals. Most of the flint tools were typical of the river-drift type, but some were more specific to the cave-deposits from this time; while the barbed harpoon heads, and particularly a bone needle, were definitely from the cave category, similar to what is well represented in the caves of Dordogne. Once again, beneath the cave-earth, there was a breccia formed of limestone and sandstone pebbles stuck together with a calcareous paste. In this layer, implements and bones of bears were also found.

The succession of strata indicated above may be taken as typical of the caverns used by palaeolithic man, the breccia and stalagmite flooring being in themselves proof of a very considerable age, while the association in the former, or under the latter, of remains of human handiwork, with bones of extinct animals, may be safely taken to show contemporaneous existence.

The sequence of layers mentioned above can be seen as typical of the caves used by prehistoric humans. The breccia and stalagmite flooring themselves serve as evidence of significant age. Furthermore, finding human-made artifacts alongside the bones of extinct animals strongly suggests that they coexisted.

Once the mind has fairly grasped the fact that man was living at so remote a time, it is a simple and natural conclusion that he should have provided himself with weapons and tools more or less rudely fashioned from the stones he found ready to his hand. The analogy of the recently extinct Tasmanian is sufficient to show that even the meanest savage is not without such aids. But the caves of France, of the same palaeolithic period, and used by men theoretically in the same stage of culture, bring before us a race of artists of first-rate capacity, who for accuracy of observation, and for skill in indicating the character and peculiarities of the animals around them, have never been surpassed. Such a statement sounds like a contradiction in terms. We are dealing with human beings whose intellect, to judge by their physical characters, should be on a level with that of the Fuegian or the Australian black, and far below that of the Maori or the Sandwich Islander. Yet none of these gentle and relatively cultured brown races produced anything in the nature of art that can in any sense be compared with the masterly drawings or sculptures of the cave-men of France. The best-known of the engravings, that of the mammoth on a piece of ivory, is in the Jardin des Plantes in Paris. It is evidently intended to be nothing more than a sketch, the lines of the finely curved tusks being repeated several times in the desire for accuracy. But the heavy lumbering walk of the ponderous beast, his attitude, and even the character of the hairy hide, are all shown or suggested with a skill and freedom that not only denotes daily familiarity with the thing represented, but a most complete mastery of the art of translating the idea into simple line. This mammoth-drawing is probably the most important and monumental of its class, but there are many others that possess artistic qualities not less remarkable, while they have in addition a grace and beauty of line not less astonishing. One of these, in the British Museum, the head of an ibex-like creature, is outlined with a decision and refinement that can scarcely be surpassed, and many other sketches in horn or stone in the same collection show a keen appreciation of the characteristic features of the different animals as well as a masterly deftness in the handling of the graving-tool. If we are forced to marvel at the graphic skill of the cave-men, their sculptures in the round are on a still higher plane, as may be seen in the figures of reindeer in ivory in the British Museum. While they are not highly finished, they show a complete understanding of the animal’s peculiar forms and contours, which are rendered in a direct, unhesitating way that should betoken a long period of artistic training and an executive power uncommon at any time. These drawings and sculptures have always been appreciated and even regarded as being of a much more advanced style than was to be expected among men who are always classed in the lower grades of culture. But enough stress has not hitherto been laid on the artistic quality of the work, which would be considered fine at any time in the world’s history. This high artistic level was attained by a race of men whom we cannot credit with any great intellectual equipment; men, moreover, who were engaged in a daily struggle for the barest necessaries of life, in a trying climate and surrounded by a fauna whose means of attack and defence were infinitely superior to their own. There are many astonishing problems in archaeology, but none so badly in need of solution. Had the discovery been confined to a single drawing or even to a single site, fraud or a misreading of the conditions might have been alleged, but the case is very different. The drawings and sculptures have been found generally enough in France to demonstrate that such artistic power was fairly common, while the question of the authenticity and period of the discoveries has long since been satisfactorily settled. It is true that the climatic conditions in pleistocene France were more favourable to man than was the case farther north, but even an agreeable climate does not necessarily produce an artistic race; if it were so, the Polynesians would probably be the greatest artists the world has ever seen. The physical remains of palaeolithic man, even when found under unquestionable conditions, are, however, so scanty, that it is unlikely that the important question of the race or races inhabiting central and northern Europe will ever be settled by their means. The evidence at present is in favour of two very different types, one dwarfish and brutal (Canstadt), the other more advanced and noble in physical character (Cro-Magnon). To the latter were due the artistic productions, and until further physical evidence is forthcoming recourse must be had to the most minute examination of the objects themselves and to accurate observation of the conditions under which they are found. So far as our present materials go, these are the only means by which more light may be thrown on the many problems of early man.

Once the mind comes to terms with the fact that humans lived so long ago, it’s a straightforward conclusion that they would have crafted weapons and tools, albeit somewhat rudely, from the stones available to them. The example of the recently extinct Tasmanian shows that even the simplest savage has such aids. However, the caves of France, from the same Paleolithic period and used by people supposedly at the same cultural level, reveal a group of exceptionally skilled artists who have never been surpassed in their accuracy of observation and ability to depict the characteristics and details of the animals around them. This might seem contradictory. We are looking at human beings whose intellect, judging by their physical traits, should be comparable to that of the Fuegian or the Australian Aboriginal, and far below that of the Maori or the Hawaiian. Yet, none of these gentle and relatively cultured brown races produced art that can even compare to the masterful drawings or sculptures of the cave-dwellers in France. The most famous engraving, that of a mammoth on a piece of ivory, is in the Jardin des Plantes in Paris. This piece is clearly intended to be nothing more than a sketch, with the elegantly curved tusks being refined multiple times for precision. But the slow, heavy gait of the massive beast, its stance, and even the texture of its hairy skin, are all captured or hinted at with a skill and freedom that not only suggests a daily familiarity with the subject but also a complete mastery in conveying the idea in simple lines. This mammoth drawing is probably the most significant and monumental of its kind, yet there are many others with equally impressive artistic qualities, along with a grace and beauty of line that are astonishing. One of these, housed in the British Museum, is the head of an ibex-like creature, outlined with such precision and delicacy that it's hard to surpass, and many other sketches in horn or stone in the same collection exhibit a keen understanding of the distinctive features of various animals and exceptional finesse in the use of the engraving tool. While we're impressed by the graphic talent of the cave-dwellers, their three-dimensional sculptures are even more remarkable, as seen in the ivory figures of reindeer at the British Museum. Although not highly finished, they demonstrate a complete grasp of the animal’s unique forms and outlines, rendered in a direct, confident manner that indicates extensive artistic training and a remarkable level of skill. These drawings and sculptures have always been acknowledged and even regarded as more advanced than expected from people classified at lower cultural levels. However, not enough emphasis has been placed on the artistic quality of the work, which would be considered exceptional at any time in history. This high level of artistry was achieved by a group of people whom we can't attribute much intellectual capacity; people who were, moreover, engaged in a daily battle for basic survival in a challenging environment, surrounded by wildlife with vastly superior means of attack and defense. There are many puzzling issues in archaeology, but none are so urgently needing resolution. If the discovery had been limited to a single drawing or site, one might claim fraud or misinterpretation of the circumstances, but the reality is quite different. The drawings and sculptures have been found widely enough in France to prove that such artistic talent was quite common, and the authenticity and age of these discoveries have long been established satisfactorily. While the climatic conditions in Pleistocene France were more favorable to humans than those further north, an inviting climate alone doesn't guarantee an artistic society; if it did, Polynesians would likely be the greatest artists the world has ever seen. However, the physical remains of Paleolithic man, even when found under clear conditions, are so limited that it’s unlikely the critical question of the races inhabiting central and northern Europe will ever be answered through them. Current evidence supports the existence of two very distinct types: one being small and brutish (Canstadt) and the other being more advanced and noble in physical traits (Cro-Magnon). The artistic works are attributed to the latter group, and until more physical evidence is uncovered, we must rely on the meticulous study of the objects themselves and keen observation of the contexts in which they are found. Based on our current resources, these are the only ways we can shed light on the many mysteries of early humans.

In spite of the unquestioned and unquestionable character of palaeolithic discoveries in general, it must not be assumed that there has been an absence of falsification, forgery, and what the French call “mystification”; on the contrary, such attempts to meet the demand have been common enough. Apart from Edward Simpson, who was notorious as “Flint Jack” in the middle of the 19th century, many others, both in England and on the continent of Europe, have devoted themselves to this peculiar industry. Boucher de Perthes tried to conquer the scepticism of some of his friends who doubted the human origin of the Abbeville flints, by unwisely offering his workmen a reward for the discovery of human bones in the same beds. The Moulin Quignon jaw was accordingly produced, and became the subject of much controversy; but the evidence finally showed that it had originally come from elsewhere. The cave drawings also have found their imitators in modern times. One Meillet, a man of education, took a special pleasure in the production of spurious examples, and even published an account of his pretended discoveries. But here, as in all the attempts at imitation of the cave drawings, the modern efforts were betrayed by their poor artistic quality, and a comparison of the new discoveries with the old was generally enough to disclose the forgery. Two drawings on bone of a wolf and a bear, declared to have been found in a cave at Thayingen in Switzerland, were afterwards shown to have been copied from a child’s picture-book. In Switzerland also a brisk trade was carried on some years ago in false antiquities said to come from the Lake-dwellings; and fantastic types of tools and implements were placed on the market. In Italy, too, a lively discussion has taken place of late years over the authenticity of curiously shaped flint implements from the neighbourhood of Verona; while America has provided similar food for discussion in the well-known Lenapé stone and the Calaveras skull. The former bears drawings of the French cave type, while the latter if genuine would carry back the story of man in the American continent before Pliocene times.

Despite the clear and undeniable nature of Paleolithic discoveries overall, it shouldn't be assumed that there hasn't been any falsification, forgery, or what the French refer to as "mystification"; quite the opposite, attempts to meet the demand for such finds have been quite common. Besides Edward Simpson, who was infamously known as "Flint Jack" in the mid-19th century, many others in both England and Continental Europe have engaged in this peculiar trade. Boucher de Perthes tried to overcome the skepticism of some friends who doubted the human origin of the Abbeville flints by foolishly offering his workers a reward for the discovery of human bones in the same layers. As a result, the Moulin Quignon jaw was produced, sparking considerable controversy; eventually, evidence showed that it had originally come from somewhere else. The cave drawings have also had their modern imitators. A man named Meillet, who was educated, took particular pleasure in creating fake examples and even published an account of his supposed discoveries. However, as in all the imitation attempts of cave drawings, modern efforts were usually revealed by their poor artistic quality, and comparing the new finds with the old was generally enough to expose the forgery. Two drawings on bone of a wolf and a bear, claimed to have been found in a cave at Thayingen in Switzerland, were later shown to have been copied from a child’s picture book. In Switzerland, there was also a thriving trade a few years ago in fake antiquities said to come from the lake dwellings, with bizarre types of tools and implements being sold. In Italy, there has been a lively debate in recent years about the authenticity of oddly shaped flint tools from the Verona area, while in America, similar discussions have arisen regarding the well-known Lenapé stone and the Calaveras skull. The former features drawings of the French cave type, while the latter, if authentic, would push back the timeline of human existence on the American continent to before Pliocene times.

An apparent break in the continuity of man’s history in Europe occurs at the end of the palaeolithic period. Attempts have been made to bridge the gap by means of a “mesolithic” period (μέσος, middle); but it would Mesolithic. not seem probable that the missing links will occur at all events so far north as Britain. We leave palaeolithic man in a cold climate, surrounded by a somewhat mixed fauna that formed his prey. We know him as a hunter and artist, but the remains show that he had no knowledge of pottery till towards the close of the period. Among the humbler arts he practised at least sewing, and lived in caves or took shelter at the base of overhanging rocks; but like the Australian, he frequently camped in the open. His successor of the later Stone Age (neolithic) we find to be a very different character and with very 348 different surroundings. The configuration of the land in which he lived is practically the same as we now see it. The severe arctic conditions with the appropriate fauna had entirely disappeared, and the introduction of new arts must have radically changed his daily life. The most important of these are the training of domestic animals, agriculture, and the development of pottery. What were the burial rites of palaeolithic man we have at present no means of knowing, but for his neolithic successor we know that these were matters of great moment. The abundance of arrowheads of flint indicate the common use of the bow and arrow as a weapon, while the art of weaving marks an immense stride in the direction of comfort and civilization. Of the form and construction of his dwelling we have only a limited knowledge, derived with some uncertainty from the analogy of the dwellings for the dead (barrows) and more certainly from the remains of the villages found erected on piles on the shores of lakes.

An obvious break in the continuity of human history in Europe happens at the end of the Paleolithic period. Efforts have been made to close this gap by introducing a “Mesolithic” period (average, middle); however, it seems unlikely that the missing links will appear, at least not this far north in Britain. We leave Paleolithic humans in a cold climate, surrounded by a somewhat mixed range of animals that they hunted. We know them as hunters and artists, but the evidence shows they didn't use pottery until towards the end of their period. Among the simpler skills they practiced was sewing, and they lived in caves or sought shelter at the bases of overhanging rocks; like Australians, they often camped in the open. Their successors from the later Stone Age (Neolithic) are very different in character and environment. The landscape where they lived is practically the same as we see it today. The harsh Arctic conditions and typical fauna had entirely disappeared, and the introduction of new skills must have significantly changed their daily lives. The most important of these are the domestication of animals, agriculture, and pottery development. We currently have no way of knowing what the burial rites of Paleolithic people were, but we do know that these were very important for their Neolithic successors. The abundance of flint arrowheads suggests that the bow and arrow were commonly used as weapons, while the skill of weaving represents a huge advancement towards comfort and civilization. Our knowledge of the shape and construction of their homes is limited, based on some uncertain comparisons with burial structures (barrows) and more reliably from the remains of villages found built on stilts along lake shores.

A much-debated question arises here that cannot be passed over. The changes just mentioned are not such as would be produced by internal causes alone. Much of the evidence is in favour of neolithic man being an immigrant, coming into northern and central Europe long after palaeolithic man and his characteristic fauna had disappeared. Where did the earlier race go and who are its modern representatives, if any? The answers to this question are many. W. Boyd Dawkins is of opinion that the reindeer was followed by man in its journey to the north after the retreating glaciers, and that the modern representative of palaeolithic man is the Eskimo. His arguments are ingenious but unconvincing; they mainly consist in the similarity of the habits of both races in using harpoons and implements of similar form and make, their power of carving and drawing on bone, the absence of pottery, disregard of the dead, &c. As to the positive evidence, it is almost enough to say that the Eskimo, like the cave-men, used the material nearest to hand that served their purpose, and that nothing is more remarkable than the similarity of primitive weapons used by widely separated peoples; while the negative evidence as to the absence of pottery is of little value; their conditions of life would allow them neither to make it nor keep it. Till recently we had no evidence at all of the treatment of the dead by palaeolithic man, but this is no longer the case; the discoveries in the Grottes de Grimaldi, Monaco, show several methods of burial, near a hearth, or in rude stone cists (see Dr Verneau in L’Anthropologie, xvii. 291). A stronger argument would be furnished if it could be shown that by his physical character the Eskimo is an intruder in his present home, and is unrelated to his neighbours. But this has not yet been done, and the skulls of the Eskimo do not resemble any of those hitherto found in the caves. In fact, what evidence there is on the subject is rather against than in favour of the wanderings northward of the inhabitants of the caves. There are indications, on the other hand, that in the south of France, in the Pyrenees, the reindeer was in existence, with man, at a later period than that of the caves, while the type of skull is that of Cro-Magnon. Here, therefore, it may be that something like a bridging of the gap between palaeolithic and neolithic times may be forthcoming. But it still remains to be found, and for the present we must be content with uncertainty.

A much-debated question arises here that cannot be overlooked. The changes mentioned earlier are not just caused by internal factors alone. A lot of evidence suggests that Neolithic humans were immigrants, arriving in northern and central Europe long after Paleolithic humans and their specific fauna had vanished. Where did the earlier population go, and are there any modern representatives of them? There are many answers to this question. W. Boyd Dawkins believes that humans followed the reindeer northward after the glaciers retreated, and he claims that the modern representative of Paleolithic humans is the Eskimo. His arguments are clever but not convincing; they mainly point to the similarities in habits between the two groups, such as using harpoons and similar tools, their skills in carving and drawing on bone, the lack of pottery, and their indifference towards the dead, etc. Regarding positive evidence, it’s almost enough to say that the Eskimo, like cave dwellers, used whatever materials were available for their needs, and the similarities in primitive weapons across different cultures are noteworthy. The lack of pottery as negative evidence is not very significant; their lifestyles likely didn't support the creation or preservation of pottery. Until recently, we had no evidence of how Paleolithic humans treated the dead, but that has changed; discoveries in the Grottes de Grimaldi, Monaco, show various burial methods, either near a hearth or in crude stone cists (see Dr. Verneau in L’Anthropologie, xvii. 291). A stronger argument would be made if it could be demonstrated that, based on physical characteristics, the Eskimo is an outsider in his current home and unrelated to his neighbors. However, this hasn't been established yet, and Eskimo skulls do not resemble any found in caves. In fact, the evidence we have tends to contradict the idea that cave dwellers moved northward. On the other hand, indications suggest that in southern France, specifically in the Pyrenees, the reindeer coexisted with humans later than the period of the caves, and the skull type is that of Cro-Magnon. Therefore, it seems there could be a way to bridge the gap between Paleolithic and Neolithic periods, but that evidence has yet to be discovered, and for now, we must accept the uncertainty.

The neolithic period has often been loosely called the age of polished stone, from the fact that in no case has a polished or ground stone implement been found in a palaeolithic deposit. The term is not only loose but inaccurate. Neolithic. In the first place, there is no reason why the cave-men should not be found to have polished a stone implement on occasion, for they habitually polished their weapons of bone. Secondly, neolithic man was by no means uniform in his methods; he polished or ground the surfaces of such tools or weapons as would be improved by the process; but to take a common instance, he found that the efficacy of his arrow-point was sufficient when chipped only, and polishing is only occasionally found, as in Ireland. Many other implements also are found in neolithic times with no trace of grinding and yet with every appearance of being complete.

The Neolithic period is often casually referred to as the age of polished stone because no polished or ground stone tools have been found in Paleolithic deposits. This term is not only vague but also incorrect. Neolithic period. First, there's no reason to think that cave people didn’t occasionally polish stone tools since they regularly polished their bone weapons. Second, Neolithic people varied significantly in their methods; they polished or ground the surfaces of tools or weapons that could benefit from the process. For example, they found that arrowheads were effective even when just chipped, so polishing was done only occasionally, as seen in Ireland. Many other tools from the Neolithic era also show no signs of grinding yet appear to be fully functional.

The most trustworthy evidence with regard to this and the succeeding archaeological periods is to be found in the grave-mounds. For the earlier part of the neolithic age, however, these are by no means fruitful of relics. From their shape they are called in England “long barrows” to distinguish them from the round barrows which belong to a succeeding time, though evidence is being accumulated to show that this division is not of universal application. Long barrows are by no means of such frequent occurrence in Britain as the round variety; they are most common in Wiltshire, Gloucestershire and Dorset, and occur as far north as Caithness. Some of them contain within the mound a stone chamber, at times with a gallery leading to it, and in the chamber the interment or interments took place. Similar barrows have been found on the continent of Europe, and both in Britain and abroad have one feature in common, viz. that no metal, with possibly the exception of gold, has ever been found in them. This similarity of burial custom, though it may conceivably indicate intercourse, certainly does not prove identity of race, as has been sometimes claimed. The type of skulls found in the interment is clear evidence against such an assumption.

The most reliable evidence regarding this and the following archaeological periods can be found in the burial mounds. However, for the earlier part of the Neolithic age, these mounds are not particularly rich in artifacts. Their shape leads them to be called "long barrows" in England, differentiating them from the round barrows that are from a later period, although evidence is building up to show that this classification is not universally applicable. Long barrows are not as commonly found in Britain as the round ones; they are most prevalent in Wiltshire, Gloucestershire, and Dorset, and extend as far north as Caithness. Some of these mounds contain a stone chamber within, sometimes with a passage leading to it, where the burial or burials took place. Similar barrows have been found across continental Europe, and both in Britain and abroad share one common feature: no metal, except possibly gold, has ever been found in them. This similarity in burial practices may suggest interaction, but it certainly does not prove the same racial identity, as has sometimes been claimed. The type of skulls found in the burials clearly counters such an assumption.

In Britain, the burials were at times by inhumation only, and occasionally a great number of bodies were interred in the same barrow: at others, cremation had preceded burial. Another remarkable feature is that in many instances it is certain from the relative position of the bones of the unburnt burials that the corpse had been allowed to decay before the burial took place. This curious practice is known among many savage tribes of the present day. Its occurrence in Britain has been adduced in favour of the prevalence of cannibalism at this time, and not altogether without reason. While metal is entirely absent in the long barrows (and in fact relics of any kind are very rarely found), it is significant that in the succeeding round barrows also metal occurs but seldom, and then always of the types attributed to the earliest part of the Bronze Age. When, therefore, the mound pottery is of a class that may well be anterior to metal, and no metal is found with the burial, it is not unreasonable to assign such barrows to the Stone Age. A similar argument may be applied to the stone implements, but in the opposite direction. Many stone implements are found either isolated, or perhaps with no other relics that serve to fix their period. The material alone is often considered sufficient evidence of their being before the age of metals; but it is at any rate quite certain that a large number of stone axes, more particularly those with a socket for the handle, belong really to the Bronze Age. This uncertainty makes any account of the neolithic age difficult, unless the material is taken as the main basis.

In Britain, burials sometimes involved inhumation only, and often many bodies were buried in the same barrow; at other times, cremation happened before burial. Another interesting point is that in many cases, the arrangement of the bones in the unburnt burials suggests that the corpse was allowed to decay before being buried. This unusual practice is still seen among many primitive tribes today. Its occurrence in Britain has been used to support the idea that cannibalism was common during this time, and there's some justification for this. While metal items are completely absent in the long barrows (and in fact, artifacts of any kind are very rarely found), it's notable that metal is also seldom found in the later round barrows, and when it is, it usually belongs to the earliest part of the Bronze Age. Therefore, when the mound pottery is of a type that could be older than metal, and no metal is found with the burial, it's reasonable to classify such barrows as belonging to the Stone Age. A similar reasoning can be applied to stone tools, but in the opposite way. Many stone tools are found either alone or possibly with no other artifacts to date them. The material alone is often used as enough evidence to claim they predate the age of metals; however, it is certain that a significant number of stone axes, especially those with a socket for the handle, actually belong to the Bronze Age. This uncertainty makes any discussion of the Neolithic age challenging, unless the material is treated as the primary basis.

Neolithic man, like his forerunners, still recognized that flint and allied stones provided the best material for his cutting and piercing implements, though he made use to a great extent of other hard stones that came ready to his hand. The mining of flint was undertaken on a large scale, and great care was taken to get down to the layer containing the best quality. In Norfolk, at Grime’s Graves, and in Sussex, at Cissbury near Worthing, the flint shafts have been carefully explored by William Greenwell, General Pitt-Rivers and others. The system was to sink two shafts some little distance apart and deep enough to reach the desired flint-bed, and the two shafts were then joined by a gallery at the bottom. At Grime’s Graves large numbers of deer’s horns were found, which had evidently been used as picks, as is proved by the marks found in the chalk walls; and the horn had been trimmed for the purpose. Cups of chalk were also found in the galleries and were believed to have been used as lamps. At Cissbury great quantities of unfinished and defective implements were found in the work, as well as horn tools, as in Norfolk. At such factories the primitive appliances correspond very closely with those in use among existing savages. The pebble was used as a hammer or an anvil, and the more delicate flaking was done by pressure with a piece of horn rather than by blows. Naturally enough the number of completed implements found in these factories is small; the finished tools would be bartered at once and carried away from the factory. All the 349 animal remains found in these pits belong to present geological conditions, thus emphasizing what has been stated above, that the absence of polished implements is no evidence for great age. Many other factories have been found in Britain, in Ireland and on the continent of Europe: at Grovehurst in Kent, at Stourpaine near Blandford, at Whitepark Bay, county Antrim, and in Belgium at Spiennes. Among the North American Indians the method would seem to have been somewhat different. After journeying to the site of a suitable quality of stone, they did not always complete the implements on the spot, but made a number of oval chipped disks of good stone which they carried away and worked up into the required implements at their leisure. These disks bear a strong likeness to some of the ovate implements from the Drift in Europe; in fact, but for the difference of surface condition or patina, they would be identical.

Neolithic people, like their ancestors, recognized that flint and similar stones were the best materials for their cutting and piercing tools, although they also used other hard stones that were readily available. Flint mining was done on a large scale, with great care taken to reach the layer with the highest quality flint. In Norfolk, at Grime’s Graves, and in Sussex, at Cissbury near Worthing, flint shafts have been carefully examined by William Greenwell, General Pitt-Rivers, and others. The method involved sinking two shafts a short distance apart, deep enough to reach the desired flint bed, which were then connected by a gallery at the bottom. At Grime’s Graves, a large number of deer horns were found, which had obviously been used as picks, as indicated by the marks on the chalk walls, and the horns had been shaped for this purpose. Cups made of chalk were also found in the galleries and were believed to have been used as lamps. At Cissbury, a significant amount of unfinished and defective tools were discovered, along with horn tools, similar to those in Norfolk. In these production sites, the primitive tools closely resemble those still used by existing hunter-gatherer societies. Pebbles were used as hammers or anvils, and finer flaking was achieved by applying pressure with a piece of horn rather than with strikes. It's not surprising that the number of finished tools found at these sites is small; the completed tools would have been bartered and taken away immediately. All the animal remains found in these pits belong to current geological conditions, reinforcing the idea that the lack of polished tools doesn't indicate great age. Numerous other production sites have been discovered in Britain, Ireland, and continental Europe: in Grovehurst in Kent, Stourpaine near Blandford, Whitepark Bay in County Antrim, and Spiennes in Belgium. Among the North American Indians, the technique seems to have been somewhat different. After traveling to a site with suitable stone quality, they didn't always finish the tools right there but instead created a number of oval chipped disks from good stone that they took with them to shape into the required tools at their convenience. These disks closely resemble some of the oval tools found in Europe’s Drift; in fact, if it weren't for the difference in surface condition or patina, they would be identical.

Plate I.

Image I.

PALAEOLITHIC PERIOD.
1. French Drift 2. English Drift. 3. French transition (Le Moustier). 4. French Cave Period. 5. English Cave Period.

Plate II.

Plate 2.

SCULPTURE AND ENGRAVINGS OF THE CAVE PERIOD.
FROM DORDOGNE, FRANCE.

Plate III.

Plate 3.

WALL PAINTINGS OF THE CAVE PERIOD.
CAVERN OF ALTAMIRA, SANTANDER, SPAIN.
OUTLINE OF WALL-PAINTINGS, ALTAMIRA, LENGTH ABOUT 45½ FT.
(cf PAINTING, Plate I.)
By permission, from La Caverne d’Altamira by Cartaulhac and Breuil Monaco 1906.

Plate IV.

Plate 4.

NEOLITHIC PERIOD.
1. Flint and stone implements, England 2. Flint arrow-heads, England. 3. Arrow-heads, Ireland.
4. Flint and stone implements, Denmark. 5. Flint implements, France. 6. Flint implements, Egypt.

While the severe climatic conditions that preceded the neolithic age restricted the presence of man to the more temperate parts of the globe, it may be assumed that in neolithic times there was nothing to prevent him from occupying the greater part of the earth’s surface, short of the neighbourhood of the two poles. Thus it may be expected that an age of stone will be found, if looked for, in every part of the globe. So far as our present knowledge goes, all is in favour of the use of stone before metals, in all countries. The one material requires no special treatment before being adapted to man’s use, while the other demands considerable knowledge, even if reasoning power have but little place in the process. Thus the probabilities are here borne out by the facts. In the extensive “kitchen-middens” of Japan are found great numbers of chert implements mixed with pottery of a primitive type, recalling that of European early Bronze Age barrows, while the succeeding periods of metal are equally clear. Even in the Far East, therefore, the same sequence is to be observed. In China, the conditions are more obscure. The superstitious regard for ancestors has prevented the exploration of ancient tombs in that country, and thus systematic search has been impossible, while the precise details of the discovery of such relics as have come to light are difficult to obtain. In spite of the assertion that China had no Stone Age, it is surely more probable, in the absence of exact knowledge, that she followed the normal course. Modern territorial divisions, more especially if they are independent of the natural physical conditions of the land, such as mountain ranges, great rivers and the like, have but little value in considering the race problems of remote ages. If, therefore, we find that, in the countries bordering on what is now the Chinese empire, the ancient inhabitants followed the same broad lines of culture that are evident elsewhere, it is easy to believe that China too was normal in this respect. The negroes and Bantu races of Africa also were thought to have passed direct to the use of iron, perhaps owing to the existence on the Nile of a civilization of great antiquity, which enabled them to pass over the intervening stages. Inherently improbable, this is now known not to have been the case. Stone implements, whether ground or merely chipped, have been discovered on the Congo, and more recently on the Zambezi. It is quite true that in both cases they are found in superficial deposits, and may be of any age. But here again the probabilities are greatly in favour of their having been in use before iron was known. While stone tools, such as knives or arrow-heads, may possess qualities that render them superior to bronze or copper, it is certain that once the working of iron was understood, its superiority to stone would at once be perceived, and the stone tools be discarded. There can be little doubt that investigations in Central Africa will demonstrate that the same course was followed there as elsewhere. In South Africa, in Egypt and in Somaliland large quantities of stone implements have been discovered, and of the great age of most of them there can be no doubt. Some from the banks of the Nile have even been claimed as “eolithic”; but here, as in Europe, We can only say that the case is not proven: General Pitt-Rivers did good service in Egypt by discovering among the stratified gravels near Thebes a number of rude flints bearing unmistakeable signs of human workmanship, but he described them merely as of “palaeolithic type,” and deplored the absence of mammalian remains in the gravels. At the same time he pointed out that the bulk of the implements claimed as palaeolithic (and, it may be, correctly) are found on the surface, and therefore cannot be dissociated from the surface types; hence form alone cannot be trusted to determine age. Further, we are by no means well informed as to the value of patination in flints found on the surface in Egypt. The depth and intensity of the patination would no doubt have a direct relation to the age of the implement, if only it could be proved that all of them had been equally subjected to the conditions that produced the discoloration. But this is clearly impossible. Some implements may conceivably have been continuously on the surface of the desert from the time they were made, and have been acted upon by the sun and air for many thousands of years, while others, though of equal age, may have been covered by sand or otherwise protected for a large part of the intervening centuries. Patination, therefore, like form, can only claim a conditional value. It is at the best an uncertain indication of age, as great age may be possible without it. Similarly, in Somaliland, the condition of the implements is very curious, and in some respects puzzling, while their forms resemble those from the Drift in Europe. But as to the climatic conditions we know nothing, and it is therefore useless to speculate on the condition of the stones; as to the geology we know next to nothing, and no mammalian remains give us a helping hand, while the form alone is a dangerous foundation for argument.

While the harsh climate before the Neolithic age limited human presence to the more temperate areas of the world, it can be assumed that during Neolithic times, there was nothing stopping humans from spreading across most of the Earth's surface, except for areas near the poles. Therefore, we should expect to find evidence of a Stone Age if we look for it in all parts of the world. According to what we currently know, the use of stone tools predates metal tools in every country. Stone requires no special processing to be used by humans, while metal tools demand a considerable amount of knowledge, even if reasoning plays a minor role in their creation. Thus, the facts support this likelihood. In the extensive “kitchen-middens” of Japan, many chert tools are found alongside primitive pottery reminiscent of early Bronze Age burial sites in Europe, and the subsequent periods of metal use are also clear. The same sequence is observed even in the Far East. In China, however, the situation is less clear. A strong respect for ancestors has limited archaeological exploration of ancient tombs in that country, making systematic searches impossible, and precise details about discovered artifacts are hard to find. Despite claims that China had no Stone Age, it is likely, in the absence of detailed knowledge, that it followed the standard progression. Modern political boundaries, especially those that do not align with natural geographical features like mountains or rivers, have little relevance when considering the racial histories of ancient times. Therefore, if we find that the ancient peoples living in areas near what is now the Chinese Empire followed similar cultural paths as seen elsewhere, it is reasonable to believe that China was similar in this regard. The Negro and Bantu groups of Africa were once thought to have moved directly to using iron, possibly due to the influence of an ancient civilization along the Nile that allowed them to skip the earlier stages. However, this is now known to be unlikely. Stone tools, both ground and chipped, have been found in the Congo, and more recently, the Zambezi. It’s true that in both cases they are found in surface layers and could date to various times. Nevertheless, the evidence strongly suggests they were in use before iron was discovered. While stone tools, like knives or arrowheads, may have superior qualities compared to bronze or copper, once the technique for working with iron was understood, its clear advantages over stone would have been recognized, leading to the abandonment of stone tools. There’s little doubt that research in Central Africa will show a similar developmental path as in other regions. In South Africa, Egypt, and Somaliland, numerous ancient stone tools have been uncovered, and there is no doubt about the great age of most of these artifacts. Some from the banks of the Nile have even been labeled as “eolithic”; however, similar to Europe, we can only say that the case remains unproven. General Pitt-Rivers made significant discoveries in Egypt when he found rough flints showing undeniable signs of human craftsmanship among stratified gravels near Thebes, though he classified them merely as “paleolithic” and noted the lack of mammalian remains in the gravels. He also pointed out that many tools classified as paleolithic (and possibly correctly so) are located on the surface, making it difficult to separate them from surface artifacts; thus, shape alone cannot be relied upon to determine age. Moreover, we are not very well-informed about the significance of the patination of flints found on the surface in Egypt. The depth and intensity of patination would likely correlate with the age of the tool, if it could be confirmed that all had been equally exposed to the environmental factors causing the discoloration. However, this is clearly not feasible. Some tools may have been left on the desert surface since they were made and may have been affected by sun and air for thousands of years, while others of the same age might have been buried or otherwise protected for much of that time. Thus, patination, like form, can only be conditionally valued. It serves as an uncertain indicator of age, as ancient tools may exist without it. Similarly, in Somaliland, the state of the tools is intriguing and somewhat puzzling, with similar shapes to those from European drift deposits. However, we lack information about the climatic conditions and have very little knowledge about the geology, and no mammalian remains to assist us, making form alone a precarious basis for argument.

Investigations in the more remote parts of the world, though they may occasionally produce some startling novelty in the history of mankind, can scarcely be expected to furnish the same trustworthy continuous story as is to Europe and America. be found in the European area. Here history provides us with a fairly truthful account of what has happened for a period varying from two to three thousand years, or in some places even longer, and we are thus able to judge whether particular discoveries come into the historical stage or not. In more primitive lands where history (if there be any) partakes more of the character of mythical tradition, the task of defining the period to which particular discoveries belong is rendered much more difficult. In America, where history may be said to have begun five hundred years ago, such a feat is of course impossible, until a great deal of work on comparative lines has been accomplished. The accounts of the civilization of Mexico and Peru at the time of the Spanish conquest show a state of culture which in some respects must have put the Spaniards to shame, while in others it was primitive in the extreme. As regards internal communications, the working of gold and copper, and the manufacture and decoration of pottery, these American kingdoms were on a level with all but the most advanced nations; but of history in the true sense of the word they have none. In spite of this, it is by no means a hopeless task to disentangle the apparent confusion of their archaeology. It is now fairly well known what were the races or tribes that inhabited particular districts, and it is thus easy to make a corpus of the types adopted by the various peoples. This is the first certain step in the application of archaeological method. By degrees, as these types become familiar to the trained eye, it will not be difficult to arrange them in a progressive series, from the earliest in style to the latest. That this will be done by the archaeologists of the American continent, even with the present scanty materials, there can be little doubt. Numbers of young and enthusiastic workers have now had a good training in exploration in historical lands, and will usefully employ their experience on the antiquities of their own country. But if once a key be found to the ancient Mexican inscriptions, so plentifully scattered through the ancient monuments, it may be that enlightenment will come even more suddenly and more surely. The one problem that is of the greatest interest still awaits solution, viz. whether there is any relation, in culture or more remotely in race, between the inhabitants of ancient America and those of Europe or Asia. One thing is certain, that if there be any connexion, it is of 350 infinite remoteness. But it is at any rate noteworthy that the same designs, patterns and even games are found in ancient Mexico and in India or China; and whether these resemblances arise from relations between the peoples using them or from accident, is a problem well worth investigation.

Investigations in the more remote parts of the world may occasionally reveal some surprising insights into human history, but they can hardly be expected to provide the same reliable continuous narrative as found in Europe and the U.S. In these regions, history gives us a fairly accurate account of events spanning two to three thousand years, or even longer in some areas, allowing us to determine whether specific discoveries fit into the historical timeline. In more primitive regions, where history (if it exists) often resembles mythical tradition, pinpointing the era of particular discoveries becomes significantly more challenging. In America, where history can be said to have started about five hundred years ago, achieving this is, of course, impossible until a considerable amount of comparative work has been done. The records of the civilizations of Mexico and Peru at the time of the Spanish conquest reveal a cultural state that, in some ways, must have embarrassed the Spaniards, while in others, it was extremely primitive. In terms of internal communication, gold and copper working, and pottery manufacture and decoration, these American kingdoms were comparable to nearly all but the most advanced nations; however, they lack true historical records. Despite this, it is far from a hopeless endeavor to untangle the apparent confusion of their archaeology. We now have a good understanding of the races or tribes that inhabited specific regions, making it relatively easy to compile a corpus of the types used by the various peoples. This is the first definitive step in applying archaeological methods. Gradually, as these types become recognizable to trained eyes, arranging them in a progression from the earliest styles to the most recent will not be difficult. There is little doubt that the archaeologists of the American continent will accomplish this, even with the current limited materials. Many young and enthusiastic researchers have received solid training in exploring historical lands and will effectively apply their experience to the antiquities of their own country. However, if a key to the ancient Mexican inscriptions—so abundantly found across ancient monuments—can be discovered, it could lead to enlightenment that emerges even more swiftly and certainly. The most intriguing problem still awaits resolution: whether there is any cultural or, more remotely, racial connection between the inhabitants of ancient America and those of Europe or Asia. One thing is clear: if there is any connection, it is of 350 immense remoteness. Nevertheless, it is noteworthy that the same designs, patterns, and even games can be found in ancient Mexico, India, and China; and whether these similarities stem from interactions between the peoples involved or are merely coincidental is a question worth exploring.

In countries like Scandinavia or Switzerland, the story of the early ages is clear and comparatively free from complications. The one by its remoteness was left to develop with but little help from the rest of Europe up to historical times; the other, protected on so many sides by its mountain ranges, seems to have enjoyed a peaceful existence during the Stone and Bronze Ages. A community of fishermen and agriculturists, they led a calm domestic life on the edges of their many lakes where they constructed dwellings on piles with only a gangway to the shore, to prevent the attacks of predatory animals. The practice of building houses in lakes was a common one not only in Switzerland, but also in Britain and in Ireland, as in modern times among the natives of New Guinea. Besides securing the safety of the inhabitants, it had the not unimportant advantage of being more healthy; all refuse of food and other useless matter could at once be thrown into the water where it would be harmless. A similar form of dwelling is the Irish “crannog,” constructed on an island or shoal in a lake, in some cases artificially heightened so as to bring it above water. These crannogs were probably inhabited in Ireland up to comparatively recent times, if one may judge by the remains found on the sites.

In countries like Scandinavia and Switzerland, the history of the early ages is straightforward and relatively uncomplicated. The former developed mostly in isolation, receiving little assistance from the rest of Europe until historical times; the latter, shielded by its mountain ranges, seems to have experienced a peaceful existence during the Stone and Bronze Ages. As a community of fishermen and farmers, they lived a tranquil domestic life on the shores of their many lakes, where they built homes on piles with only a walkway to the shore to fend off attacks from wild animals. Constructing houses in lakes was not just common in Switzerland, but also in Britain and Ireland, similar to what we see today among the indigenous people of New Guinea. Besides keeping the inhabitants safe, this method had the added benefit of being healthier; all food waste and other refuse could be easily discarded into the water where it became harmless. A similar type of dwelling is the Irish "crannog," built on an island or sandbank in a lake, sometimes artificially raised so that it would stay above water. These crannogs were likely inhabited in Ireland until fairly recent times, as indicated by the remains discovered at the sites.

It must not be forgotten that although the neolithic period had many phases, yet its duration is in no way comparable to the incalculable length of the palaeolithic age. For a variety of reasons it is thought that one of the earliest stages of neolithic times is represented by the now well-known kitchen-middens (refuse-heaps) of Denmark. These heaps are often of great size, sometimes reaching 10 ft. in height, and nearly 350 yds. in length. Here along the coast line the natives of Denmark lived, apparently building their huts upon the mounds and cooking their food upon hearths of stone. The conditions of their daily life would seem to have resembled those of the natives of Tierra del Fuego. Their implements of flint seem to have been chipped only, and it is conjectured that the few polished and more highly finished implements that have been found in the middens are importations from more cultured tribes living inland. Their food was in very great part composed of shell-fish, though they evidently caught and ate various kinds of deer, boar and a variety of carnivorous animals. The race which made these mounds is believed to have been akin to the Lapps, and their dwellings can hardly have been anything more than the rudest protection from the weather. The Swiss lake-dwellers were far more advanced, even in the Stone Age; their dwellings were elaborately planned and constructed, and remains of them have been plentifully found in the various Swiss lakes. Various forms of construction were adopted: in one the foundations consisted of poles driven into the bed of the lake; in others a kind of framework simply rested on the bottom, and in a third, the substructure was formed of layers of sticks reaching from the bottom of the lake up to the surface. The walls were of wattle, closed up with clay to keep out the weather; the hearths were of stone slabs, and the floors of clay well trodden down. Practically the same type of dwelling seems to have continued through the Stone and Bronze Ages, though on some sites no metal whatever is found and it is therefore assumed that these are of the earlier period. These people cultivated the land, growing wheat and barley; they were also hunters and fishermen, capable of manufacturing pottery without the aid of the wheel, which had not yet come into use so far north; and they wove mats and garments, while ropes and netting are plentiful. Their tools and weapons were made of stone, and to a great extent of deer’s horn. Human remains are hardly ever found on the sites of the lake-dwellings, and it is therefore uncertain what were the social affinities of the people; but the evidence of the sites is in favour of the same race being continuous into the Bronze Age, when their condition was more comfortable, as is shown by the abundant remains of domesticated animals.

It shouldn't be overlooked that while the Neolithic period had many stages, its duration is nothing compared to the vast length of the Paleolithic age. For various reasons, it's believed that one of the earliest phases of Neolithic times is represented by the well-known kitchen middens (refuse heaps) of Denmark. These heaps are often quite large, sometimes reaching 10 feet in height and nearly 350 yards in length. Here along the coastline, the people of Denmark lived, seemingly building their huts on the mounds and cooking their food over stone hearths. Their daily lives would appear to have been similar to those of the natives of Tierra del Fuego. Their flint tools seem to have been mostly chipped, and it's thought that the few polished and more refined tools found in the middens were brought in from more advanced tribes living inland. Their diet largely consisted of shellfish, though they clearly caught and ate various types of deer, boars, and other carnivorous animals. The group that built these mounds is believed to have been related to the Lapps, and their homes likely offered very basic protection from the elements. The Swiss lake dwellers were much more advanced, even in the Stone Age; their homes were carefully planned and built, with many remains found in different Swiss lakes. Various building methods were used: in one, poles were driven into the lakebed for foundations; in others, a type of framework rested on the bottom, and in a third, the support was made of layers of sticks reaching from the bottom of the lake to the surface. The walls were made of wattle, sealed with clay to keep out the weather; the hearths were made of stone slabs, and the floors were made of well-trodden clay. It appears that the same type of dwelling continued through the Stone and Bronze Ages, although at some sites no metal is found, leading to the assumption that these are from the earlier period. These people farmed the land, growing wheat and barley; they were also hunters and fishermen, capable of making pottery without the use of a wheel, which had not yet been introduced in that northern region; they wove mats and clothing, and ropes and nets were abundant. Their tools and weapons were primarily made of stone and to a considerable extent of deer horn. Human remains are rarely discovered at the lake dwelling sites, so it's unclear what their social structures were, but the evidence from these sites suggests that the same group continued into the Bronze Age, when their living conditions improved, as indicated by the plentiful remains of domesticated animals.

Among the most notable and obvious relics of prehistoric times, both in Britain and in many other countries such as Spain, Portugal, France and even India, are gigantic circles and avenues of stone and dolmens (see Stone Monuments). These enduring monuments have excited Stone Age relics. the wonder of countless generations, and lent themselves to superstitious practices down to modern times. But the precise purpose for which they were erected and even the period to which they belonged, had never been definitely settled. They had been called burial places of great chiefs, and not unnaturally had been thought by others to have been temples or places of primitive worship used by the Druids, who moreover were often credited with their erection. Obviously such a question called for settlement, and the British Association in the year 1898 appointed a committee to investigate these stone circles with a view to ascertaining their age. Operations were begun at the well-known circle of Arbor Low, south of Buxton in Derbyshire; careful excavations were made through the ditch and the encircling mound and also within the circle, and although the evidence was not of the most complete kind, yet the committee came to the conclusion that the circle belonged to the end of the neolithic age. At Arbor Low all the stones are now lying on the ground (although, to judge from the other circles in England, they were certainly once upright), and the opportunities for surveying were thereby much diminished. It is a fortunate circumstance, therefore, that the fall of one of the stones at Stonehenge (q.v.) at the end of the 19th century, and the increasingly perilous state of some of the others, caused the owner, with the advice of the Society of Antiquaries of London, to undertake the raising of the great leaning stone in the interior of the circle. The work was superintended by W. Gowland, F.S.A., who made special investigations during the necessary digging, for the purpose of recovering any remains of man’s handiwork that had been left by the builders of the monument. In this he was very successful, finding in the course of the very limited excavation at the base of the monolith, a great number of stone mauls or hammers that corresponded so nearly with the bruised surfaces of the monoliths, that there can be no doubt of their having been used to dress the standing stones.

Among the most significant and obvious remnants of prehistoric times, both in Britain and in many other countries like Spain, Portugal, France, and even India, are massive stone circles and avenues, along with dolmens (see Stone Monuments). These lasting monuments have amazed countless generations and have been tied to superstitious practices up to the present day. However, the exact purpose for which they were built and the time period to which they belong have never been definitively determined. They have been referred to as burial sites for great leaders, and understandably, some have speculated that they served as temples or places of primitive worship used by the Druids, who were often credited with their construction. Clearly, such questions needed answering, and in 1898, the British Association formed a committee to examine these stone circles in order to determine their age. Excavations began at the well-known circle of Arbor Low, south of Buxton in Derbyshire; careful digging was carried out through the ditch, the surrounding mound, and within the circle itself. Although the evidence gathered was not exhaustive, the committee concluded that the circle dated back to the end of the Neolithic Age. At Arbor Low, all the stones now lie on the ground (though, judging by other circles in England, they were certainly once upright), which significantly limited surveying opportunities. Fortunately, the fall of one of the stones at Stonehenge (q.v.) at the end of the 19th century, along with the increasingly precarious condition of some others, led the owner, with guidance from the Society of Antiquaries of London, to undertake the raising of the large leaning stone in the center of the circle. The work was overseen by W. Gowland, F.S.A., who conducted special investigations during the necessary digging to uncover any traces of human craftsmanship left by the monument's builders. He was quite successful, discovering a large number of stone mauls or hammers at the base of the monolith, which closely matched the chipped surfaces of the monoliths, leaving no doubt they were used to shape the standing stones.

From a review of all the evidence of an archaeological nature that was to be obtained, Gowland came to the conclusion that the construction of Stonehenge belonged to the latter part of the neolithic age. No trace of a metal implement occurred in any of the debris. This would of itself be an interesting fact, but it became infinitely more interesting from researches in quite another direction, which brought corroborative evidence of a curious kind. For many years Sir Norman Lockyer and Prof. Penrose were engaged in examining the orientation of temples in Egypt and Greece, with a view to determining on what astronomical principle, if any, the plans had been laid down. With a rectangular plan, and with portions of the interior still well defined, they were able by elaborate calculation to determine that the temples had been definitely planned with relation to the rising or setting of the sun or of a particular star. Having been successful in these investigations they proceeded to apply the test to Stonehenge. The experiment was made on the longest day in the year 1901. Owing to a gradual change in the obliquity of the earth’s orbit, the point of sunrise on corresponding days of each year is not constant; and though the difference is hardly perceptible from year to year, in the course of centuries it becomes great enough for use as a measure of time. Enough remains of the monument to show the direction of sunrise at the time that Stonehenge was erected, it being always assumed that the coincidence of the main axis with the central line of the Avenue was designed with reference to sunrise on the longest day of the year. At the date of the experiment it was found that the sun had shifted nearly two diameters in the interval, and this variation gives a date of about 1680 B.C., which practically confirms the verdict of archaeology and seems to prove, moreover, that Stonehenge was a temple of the sun.

From reviewing all the archaeological evidence available, Gowland concluded that Stonehenge was built in the later part of the Neolithic age. There were no metal tools found in any of the debris. This alone is an interesting detail, but it becomes even more intriguing due to research in a different area that provided supportive evidence of a different nature. For many years, Sir Norman Lockyer and Prof. Penrose examined the orientation of temples in Egypt and Greece to understand the astronomical principles, if any, behind their designs. With a rectangular layout and parts of the interior still clearly defined, they were able to calculate that the temples were specifically planned in relation to the sunrise or sunset of the sun or a particular star. After succeeding in these studies, they decided to apply the same test to Stonehenge. The experiment was conducted on the longest day of the year in 1901. Because of a gradual change in the tilt of the Earth's orbit, the point of sunrise on the same days each year is not fixed; although the difference is barely noticeable from year to year, it accumulates over centuries enough to serve as a time measure. There is enough of the monument left to indicate the direction of the sunrise when Stonehenge was built, always assuming that the alignment of the main axis with the centerline of the Avenue was intended to be in reference to the sunrise on the longest day of the year. At the time of the experiment, it was discovered that the sun had shifted nearly two diameters during that period, and this change suggests a date of about 1680 B.C., which largely validates the conclusions of archaeology and also indicates that Stonehenge was a temple dedicated to the sun.

Stonehenge therefore may be taken as marking for Britain the close of the neolithic period and heralding the dawn of a new 351 era, in which the inhabitants of the British Isles first acquired the art of working metal.

Stonehenge can be seen as marking the end of the Neolithic period for Britain and signaling the beginning of a new 351 era, where the people of the British Isles first learned to work with metal.

There is reason to believe that the transition from the use of stone to that of bronze was not due to the peaceful advance of civilization, but rather to the irruption of an Aryan race from the south-east of Europe into the countries Bronze Age. to the west and north. Of these people the Celts are to some extent the representatives at a somewhat more recent period. Here, however, we are dealing with terms the precise meaning of which is not yet generally admitted, and which, moreover, have too intimate a relation to the problems of philology to be fully discussed here (see Indo-European). The term Aryan (q.v.) itself is not free from objections. It was held by Max Müller to relate to a language and a civilization that took its rise in Central Asia, while others now contend that, although it is the mother language of the Sanskrit, Greek, Latin, Teutonic and Celtic languages, it might equally well have originated in Europe. However this may be, and even this brief statement shows how wide a field the arguments would cover, there can be little doubt that the Bronze Age Celts were of this stock, and that in course of time they gradually spread their language and culture over a large part of Europe. Whether or no the knowledge of bronze started from one or more centres, it gradually spread from the south-east of Europe until it reached Scandinavia; the dates being roughly in Crete, 3000 B.C.; in Sicily, 2500 B.C.; in central France, 2000 B.C.; in Britain and in Scandinavia 1800 B.C. The appearance of the Celts in Britain is indicated by the presence of the round barrows. They were a fairly tall, short-headed race, using cremation and also inhumation in their burials, skilful in the manufacture of pottery and of the simpler forms of bronze implements, and freely using bone, jet, and at times amber, while gold was well known and evidently greatly esteemed. In the early centuries of the Bronze Age, swords, spears and shields were apparently quite unknown, the principal metallic products being flat axes, simple knives or daggers, and small tools or ornaments. In the burial places the bodies, if unburnt, are nearly always found in a crouching position, as if in the attitude of sleep; if cremated, the burnt bones are generally enshrined in an urn under the tumulus, the burial being sometimes in a cist formed of large stones. The pottery vessels are remarkable in more ways than one. In the first place they would seem to have been specially made for the burial rites, for whenever domestic pottery has been found, it is of quite a different character, unornamented and simple in outline. It must be confessed, however, that this latter is by no means common. The sepulchral vessels are at times highly decorated, and sometimes of great size. They are invariably hand made, and though they are by no means well fired they are never sun-dried, as is often said to be the case. A common kind of decoration is produced by impressing twisted cords in the damp clay, and this is believed with some reason to have had its origin in the practice of winding cords round the unbaked vessel to prevent distortion before or during the process of firing. That operation would of course burn away the cord and leave only its impression on the urn. Other forms of ornament are also used, incised lines in rudely geometrical designs, impressions of the end of a stick, and at times rows of hollows produced by the finger or thumb. The method of the burial, beyond giving an insight into the art of the period, also helps us to realize to some extent the ideas of primitive man. The underlying reason for careful and ceremonial burial is not always readily understood, apart from a knowledge of the ritual, such as existed in ancient Egypt. But in the Bronze Age in Britain it was the custom to bury with the dead not only carefully made vessels which doubtless contained food for the journey to the lower world, but also the ornaments and weapons of the deceased. Often the bonea of a pig have been found in the grave, doubtless representing part of the provender which could not conveniently be placed in the so-called food-vessel. Such practices indicate with a fair amount of certainty a belief in a future life in another world, where probably the conditions were thought to be much the same as in this. The burial of the weapons and other property of a dead man is, however, not always due to the belief that he may need them in some future state. The reason may well be that it would be thought unlucky for a survivor to use them.

There’s reason to think that the shift from using stone to bronze wasn’t just a peaceful evolution of civilization, but rather the result of an Aryan group moving in from the southeast of Europe into the countries to the west and north. The Celts somewhat represent these people in a later period. However, we’re dealing with terms here that aren’t universally accepted, and they relate closely to philological issues that can’t be fully covered here (see Indo-European). The term Aryan (q.v.) itself has its controversies. Max Müller suggested it referred to a language and civilization that began in Central Asia, while some now argue that, although it’s the root language of Sanskrit, Greek, Latin, Teutonic, and Celtic languages, it could just as easily have started in Europe. Regardless, this brief overview shows how broad the arguments are, but there’s little doubt that the Bronze Age Celts came from this background and gradually spread their language and culture across much of Europe. Whether the knowledge of bronze emerged from one or more centers, it spread from southeast Europe all the way to Scandinavia; the approximate dates are: 3000 BCE in Crete, 2500 BCE in Sicily, 2000 BCE in central France, and 1800 BCE in Britain and Scandinavia. The arrival of the Celts in Britain is marked by the round barrows they built. They were a relatively tall, short-headed people who practiced both cremation and burial, skilled in making pottery and basic bronze tools, and used bone, jet, and sometimes amber, while gold was well known and highly valued. In the early Bronze Age, swords, spears, and shields were apparently not common; the main metal products included flat axes, simple knives or daggers, and small tools or ornaments. In burial sites, if the bodies weren’t cremated, they're usually found in a crouching position, resembling sleep; if cremated, the ashes are often placed in an urn under the tumulus, with some burials in cists made of large stones. The pottery vessels are noteworthy for several reasons. Firstly, they seem to be specially made for burial rituals, as any domestic pottery found is quite different—plain and simple in design. However, it should be noted that this domestic pottery is quite rare. The burial vessels can sometimes be highly decorated and quite large. They are always handmade; while they aren’t well-fired, they are never just sun-dried, as is often claimed. A common decorative technique involves impressing twisted cords into the damp clay, believed to come from the practice of wrapping cords around the unbaked vessel to maintain its shape before or during firing. That process would burn away the cord, leaving its imprint on the urn. Other decorative methods include incised lines with rough geometric patterns, impressions from sticks, and sometimes rows of indentations made by fingers or thumbs. The burial method, besides giving insight into the art of the period, also helps us understand, to some extent, the beliefs of early humans. The underlying reason for careful, ceremonial burials isn’t always easily understood without knowledge of rituals, like those in ancient Egypt. But during Britain’s Bronze Age, it was customary to bury not only carefully made vessels meant to contain food for the afterlife but also the ornaments and weapons of the deceased. Animal bones, particularly from pigs, have often been found in graves, likely accounting for food that couldn’t fit into the designated food vessel. Such practices reasonably suggest a belief in an afterlife similar to this one. However, burying a dead person’s weapons and belongings isn’t always due to a belief that they would need them in another life; it may also stem from the idea that it would be bad luck for someone remaining to use them.

Just as the neolithic age was immeasurably shorter than the palaeolithic, but was notable for great improvements in the arts of life, so the Bronze Age in its turn was shorter than the neolithic age, and again witnessed even more marked advance in culture. It is in fact an illustration of the truism that each step in knowledge renders all that follow less laborious; but it is not easy to understand how the transition from stone to metal came about, nor why bronze came to be the chosen metal rather than iron. Bronze, in the first place, is a composite metal, a mixture of copper and tin, while iron can be at once reduced from its ores; indeed, in the form of meteoric iron, it is already metallic, and needs but a hammer to produce whatever form may be wanted. From the archaeological point of view, there is, however, good reason for believing that bronze preceded iron. The forms of axes that are without doubt the earliest, are in outline much the same as the stone prototype, being only thinner in proportion. Then again, iron implements are never found on the earlier sites, and if they had been in existence some of them certainly would remain: further, at the end of the Bronze Age it is found that the forms of weapons in that metal are exactly copied in iron, as, for instance, at Hallstatt (q.v.) in the Salzkammergut, the famous cemetery which best illustrates the passage from the use of bronze to that of iron. It has been claimed that bronze was preceded by copper, a sequence which seems inherently probable; and whether or no it was general enough or enduring enough to constitute a period, there can be no reasonable doubt that in the Mediterranean area, and in central Europe, as well as in Ireland, great numbers of implements were made of copper alone without any appreciable admixture of tin. The casting of pure copper presents certain difficulties, in that the metal is not adapted for anything but a mould open to the air, and this would limit its utility, until the discovery that tin in a certain proportion (roughly 1 : 9) not only made the resulting metal much harder and better fitted for cutting-tools and weapons, but at the same time rendered possible the use of closed moulds.

Just as the Neolithic age was significantly shorter than the Paleolithic but was known for major improvements in everyday skills, the Bronze Age was also shorter than the Neolithic age and saw even greater cultural advancements. This illustrates the truth that each step in knowledge makes the following ones easier; however, it’s hard to grasp how the shift from stone to metal happened and why bronze became the preferred metal over iron. Bronze, being a composite metal made of copper and tin, differs from iron, which can be directly extracted from its ores. In fact, meteoric iron is already metallic and only needs hammering to take shape. From an archaeological perspective, there’s solid evidence to suggest that bronze came before iron. The earliest forms of axes closely resemble their stone counterparts, simply being thinner. Additionally, iron tools aren’t found at the older sites, and if they had existed, some would definitely have survived. Furthermore, at the end of the Bronze Age, weapons made of bronze are precisely replicated in iron, as seen in Hallstatt (q.v.), the well-known cemetery that best showcases the transition from bronze usage to iron. It’s been suggested that bronze was preceded by copper, which seems quite plausible. Whether or not this sequence was widespread enough to be considered a distinct period, there’s no doubt that in the Mediterranean area, central Europe, and Ireland, many tools were made from copper alone with little to no tin mixed in. Crafting pure copper has its challenges because this metal needs an open-air mold for casting, limiting its usefulness until the discovery that adding tin in a specific ratio (about 1:9) made the resulting metal much harder and more suitable for cutting tools and weapons while also enabling the use of closed molds.

There are thus two problems in connexion with the history of the Bronze Age. How was the metal discovered? And by whom or where? As to the first, it must be remembered that in some parts of the world, e.g. in China and in Cornwall, copper and tin are found together, and it may well be that tin was first accidentally included as an impurity, which, had it been noticed, would have been eliminated. Once it was found to produce a more useful metal, the blend would be deliberately made, and repeated trials would eventually demonstrate the most suitable proportion of one metal to the other. The question of where it was first discovered is one that is not likely to be answered with certainty, but the one essential is the presence of the two metals in one and the same locality. Tin does not exist in either Egypt or Mesopotamia, although bronze articles from the fourth and third millennium respectively B.C. have been found in these countries. The tin to produce the mere metal must have come from some foreign country; and the choice seems to be very small. Spain at the other end of the Mediterranean is unlikely, and Britain still more so; central Asia, Asia Minor, or China again seem too remote; for the spread of metallurgy from these centres would imply a trade connexion nearly 4000 B.C. In later times, later perhaps by 3000 years, Spain and Britain were undoubtedly among the chief sources of the tin supply of Europe and of the Mediterranean generally; but it will long remain a problem where bronze was first produced. There is indeed, no real necessity for confining its origin to a single locality; it is easily conceivable that the invention occurred independently in more places than one.

There are two main issues related to the history of the Bronze Age. How was the metal discovered? And by whom or where? First, it's important to note that in some regions, like China and Cornwall, copper and tin are found together. It's possible that tin was originally found as an impurity and might have been overlooked at first. Once its usefulness was recognized, people likely started intentionally mixing the metals, and through experimentation, they would have figured out the best ratio of one metal to the other. As for where it was first discovered, that's a question without a definitive answer. The crucial factor is that both metals needed to be present in the same location. Tin doesn't exist in either Egypt or Mesopotamia, even though bronze artifacts from the fourth and third millennia B.C. have been discovered there. The tin necessary for making bronze must have come from another country, and the options seem limited. Spain, located at the other end of the Mediterranean, is unlikely, and Britain seems even more improbable. Central Asia, Asia Minor, or China also appear too distant, as the spread of metallurgy from these areas would suggest a trade connection as early as 4000 B.C. Later, perhaps 3000 years after that, Spain and Britain became significant sources of tin for Europe and the Mediterranean overall, but it's likely to remain a mystery where bronze was first produced. There's actually no need to restrict its origin to just one location; it's quite plausible that the invention happened independently in multiple places.

The history of early metallurgy has been carefully studied by W. Gowland, who communicated the results of his researches to the Society of Antiquaries of London in 1899. In his opinion the ores from which copper was first obtained by smelting were 352 originally found as pebbles or boulders in the beds of streams, where man in the Stone Age had been accustomed to search for stones to convert into implements; and in the same way the beds of rivers were for a long subsequent period the only sources of tin. Actual mining belongs in his opinion to a far later period, and naturally had its origin in the discovery of outcrops of the metal on the surface. By the simple application of fire, lumps of ore were reduced to a smaller size, and were then prepared for smelting by further reduction to the condition of a coarse powder. This latter process was carried out in the same way that grain was crushed between two stones; and stone-mills, doubtless used for the purpose, have been found in ancient workings in Wales. The next stage would be the furnace, and there can be little doubt that this would be of the simplest kind, merely a hole in the ground with the fire covering the metal, and with nothing but a natural draught. But Gowland holds that even with these singularly inadequate appliances, copper could be smelted from the surface ores, though the output would naturally be of the most uncertain and intermittent character, depending, as it must have done, on the wind. And until the discovery of bellows or some other method of increasing the draught of air, no progress could be made in this direction. With regard to the resulting metal, viz. copper, we have certain knowledge. From time to time there are found in the earth in Britain and elsewhere, hoards of fragmentary or imperfect bronze implements, portions of axes, swords, rings, &c., all of which have been failures in castings. These hoards are assumed to have been gathered together by the bronze founders to be recast into perfect and useful implements. Now, frequently associated with these hoards are portions of cakes of pure copper, originally circular in shape, flat on one face and convex on the other, like a lens with one flat face. The form of these cakes is in itself a fair proof of the prevalence of the method of smelting described above, as it is quite clear that the convex face of the cake followed the contour of the hole in the ground above which the fire was placed. The cakes are generally found broken up into small handy blocks. This can only be done in one way, viz. by watching the cake, after the fire and slag has been raked off it, until it is on the point of becoming solid, when it is quickly pulled out of the hole and broken up. It will be noted that while the implements in these founders’ hoards are invariably of bronze, the cakes are as invariably of copper. This is at first sight puzzling, until it is realized that these founders probably carried the tin necessary for forming bronze in the form of ore, and that tin ore in its pure state is a snuff-coloured powder very easily overlooked when lying on the earth, which it might very nearly resemble in colour, though it would be much heavier. Thus it is probable that in many such discoveries the tin ore has accompanied the copper cakes and bronze fragments, but has hitherto eluded the eyes of the finder. Not only have we this conclusive evidence of the methods by which Bronze Age man produced his raw material, but the discovery of crucibles and moulds takes us a step further towards the finished implements. The crucibles are generally simple bowls of thick clay with an extension of the lip at one side to pour out the molten metal. Several of these, with plentiful traces of metal still remaining in them, were found by the brothers Siret in the Bronze Age settlement at El Argar in Murcia. In the same place also were found moulds of stone for the casting of simple triangular axes. These were of the class known as open moulds, one stone being hollowed to the desired form, the other half being simply a flat cover, with no relation to the form of the implement to be produced. From the nature of the metal, such a mould is the only kind in which the casting of an efficient copper implement would be possible; and among the objects discovered by the Sirets were articles in plenty of pure copper.

The history of early metallurgy has been studied in detail by W. Gowland, who presented his findings to the Society of Antiquaries of London in 1899. He believed that the ores used to obtain copper through smelting were initially found as pebbles or boulders in stream beds, where people in the Stone Age would look for stones to make tools. Similarly, for a long time, riverbeds were the only sources of tin. He argued that actual mining started much later and was based on the discovery of surface deposits of the metal. By simply applying fire, chunks of ore were reduced in size and then turned into a coarse powder for smelting. This latter process was done similarly to how grain was crushed between two stones, and stone mills, likely used for this purpose, have been found in ancient sites in Wales. The next step would be the furnace, which would likely have been very basic—just a hole in the ground with the fire covering the metal and relying solely on natural airflow. However, Gowland maintains that even with such inadequate tools, copper could be smelted from surface ores, though the amount produced would have been unpredictable and irregular, dependent on the wind. Progress in this area could not advance until bellows or other methods to enhance airflow were discovered. Regarding the extracted metal—copper—we have solid evidence. Occasionally, hoards of incomplete or damaged bronze tools, such as parts of axes, swords, rings, etc., are found in Britain and elsewhere, all of which appear to be failed castings. These hoards are thought to have been collected by bronze makers to be remade into functional tools. Often, pieces of pure copper cakes, originally circular and flat on one side while convex on the other, like a lens, are found alongside these hoards. The shape of these cakes suggests the smelting process described earlier, as the convex side reflects the contours of the pit where the fire was placed. The cakes are typically found broken into small, manageable pieces. This likely happened by monitoring the cake, raking off the fire and slag until it was almost solid, and then quickly removing and breaking it apart. It’s noteworthy that while the tools in these bronze makers' hoards are always bronze, the cakes are consistently copper. This might seem confusing at first until one realizes that these makers probably brought tin for making bronze in ore form, and pure tin ore appears as a powder that can be easily missed on the ground, closely resembling the earth in color but being significantly heavier. Thus, it’s likely that in many such finds, tin ore has been present with the copper cakes and bronze fragments but has gone unnoticed. We not only have strong evidence of how Bronze Age people produced their materials, but the discovery of crucibles and molds also gives us insight into the final products. The crucibles are generally simple thick clay bowls with a lip on one side for pouring out molten metal. Several of these, with remnants of metal still inside, were found by the Siret brothers at the Bronze Age site in El Argar, Murcia. Additionally, they discovered stone molds for casting simple triangular axes. These molds are known as open molds; one stone is hollowed out to the desired shape while the other stone is just a flat cover, not matching the shape of the final tool. This type of mold is the only kind that would allow for the effective casting of copper tools, and among the items found by the Sirets were numerous pieces of pure copper.

Much has been written in support of the theory that the bronze tools and implements found in this or that country must have been importations from southern and more highly civilized lands. More particularly has this been alleged with regard to Britain, which, lying as it did on the extreme limit of the ancient world, was regarded as being dependent on the continent for the more complex weapons. The constant discovery, however, of these hoards of rough metal, as well as of moulds of the highest finish for casting swords, daggers, celts, and almost every kind of ancient bronze implement and weapon known to us, provides a conclusive proof of the contrary. The occurrence of a foreign type of implement is so rare as to be a source of especial gratification to the collector who secures it; and it may be taken that, in general terms, all the bronze swords, daggers and spears found in Britain were of home manufacture. Relations with the continent, however, did exist, as is shown by the occurrence of an Irish type of gold ornament in France and Scandinavia, and by the similarity of ornamental motives in the British Isles and elsewhere. Among the continental races it is natural to find intercommunication more common, owing to the absence of natural barriers. The weapons of the Bronze Age were swords, spears, daggers and axes (celts), though the last would be equally well adapted for more peaceful purposes. The swords were usually of a narrow leaf shape, cast with the handle in one piece, the mounting of the grip and the pommel being added. For perfection of workmanship the weapons of this period have never been surpassed, and the skill of adjustment in the moulds, the fine and equal quality of the metal, and the flawless condition of the surfaces still excite wonder among the most expert of modern founders. The cutting edges of swords and “celts” were often, if not always, hammered to serve the double purpose of hardening that part of the weapon and sharpening the edge. In the case of the axe-heads (celts), this hammering had a distinct influence on the evolution of the form of the implement. The earliest celts, whether of copper or bronze, were in form, copies of their stone prototypes, and curiously enough exactly like the ordinary woodman’s axe of to-day, but of course without the socket for the handle. Hammering rendered the cutting edge both broader and thinner, giving it at the same time a curved outline. This widened curve eventually became an ornamental feature, the two ends of the cutting edge becoming curved points and adding greatly to the elegance of the outline. Later, the other edges were finished by hammering also, at times in a simple ornamental fashion; and whether for greater rigidity or for some other reason, flanges were produced in the same way on those edges, which again affected the ultimate form of the celt. The early flat celt was no doubt simply fixed in a perforated wooden handle, which would naturally tend to split if wielded with any vigour. The side-flanges were in course of time utilized to prevent this, by allowing the use of a different form of handle. In place of the simple straight handle, a branch was cut with an elbow-joint, and its shorter limb then divided into two prongs, between which the metal passed, while the flanges, beaten up from the edges, overlapped the two forks; and no doubt a lashing of sinew was added to render the whole secure. This made a good serviceable tool or weapon, and prevented the splitting of the handle; but still another step was taken. The flanges on the edges met over the prong of the handle on either side, while the upper end of the celt itself eventually became a mere septum dividing the two openings. This septum was finally judged to be useless, and done away with; and the celt was cast with one hollow only for the reception of the ends of the handle; thus the flat celt became, by a natural process of evolution and improvement, a socketed celt. It is a curious fact, however, that the modern form of axe where the handle passes through a socket in the metal itself does not seem to have been much in favour in the Bronze Age, although it was a stone form that certainly survived into the succeeding period.

Much has been said to support the idea that the bronze tools and items found in various countries must have come from southern and more advanced civilizations. This has been particularly claimed about Britain, which, being on the edge of the ancient world, was seen as reliant on the continent for more complex weapons. However, the consistent discovery of hoards of rough metal and highly finished molds for casting swords, daggers, celts, and nearly every type of ancient bronze tool and weapon we know provides strong evidence to the contrary. The occurrence of a foreign type of tool is so rare that it brings particular joy to collectors who manage to find one; generally, all the bronze swords, daggers, and spears found in Britain were made locally. Nonetheless, there were interactions with the continent, as shown by the presence of an Irish gold ornament type found in France and Scandinavia, and by the similarity of decorative designs in the British Isles and elsewhere. Among the continental peoples, it is natural to find more frequent communication due to fewer natural barriers. The weapons of the Bronze Age included swords, spears, daggers, and axes (celts), though the latter could also be used for more peaceful tasks. The swords were typically narrow and leaf-shaped, cast with the handle in one piece, with the grip and pommel added later. The craftsmanship of this period has never been surpassed; the skill involved in creating the molds, the consistent quality of the metal, and the flawless surfaces still amaze even the best modern metalworkers. The cutting edges of swords and celts were often, if not always, hammered to both harden that part of the weapon and sharpen the edge. In the case of axe heads (celts), this hammering significantly influenced the design of the tool. The earliest celts, whether made of copper or bronze, were shaped like their stone predecessors and were surprisingly similar to today’s regular woodcutter’s axe, but without a socket for the handle. Hammering made the cutting edge both wider and thinner, while also creating a curved outline. This widened curve eventually became a decorative feature, as the two ends of the cutting edge formed curved points, enhancing the tool's overall elegance. Later, the other edges were also finished by hammering, sometimes in a simple decorative manner; and whether for increased strength or other reasons, flanges were formed on those edges, which further shaped the final design of the celt. The early flat celt was likely just attached to a wooden handle with a hole, which would naturally split if used vigorously. Over time, the side flanges were utilized to avoid this by allowing for a different handle design. Instead of a simple straight handle, a branch was shaped with an elbow-joint, and its shorter limb was then split into two prongs through which the metal passed, while the flanges, pressed up from the edges, overlapped the two forks; a sinew wrap was surely added to secure everything. This created a functional tool or weapon and prevented the handle from splitting, but another advancement was made. The flanges on the edges met over the prong of the handle on both sides, while the top of the celt eventually became just a partition separating the two openings. This partition was ultimately deemed unnecessary and removed, leading to the celt being cast with only one hollow for the end of the handle; thus, the flat celt evolved naturally into a socketed celt. Interestingly, the modern axe design, where the handle goes through a hole in the metal itself, doesn’t seem to have been popular during the Bronze Age, although it was a stone design that definitely carried over into the following period.

This and other shortcomings in what must have been the universal weapon and implement of the race, were remedied from time to time by various improvements in the form of the bronze axe-head and the method of hafting; and the various stages of development, from the flat blade of copper or bronze to the socketed implement and even to a pattern now in use, can still be traced in the Bronze Age specimens that have come down to us.

This and other flaws in what should have been the universal tool and weapon of the people were addressed over time by different enhancements in the design of the bronze axe head and the way it was attached to a handle. The various stages of development, from the flat blade of copper or bronze to the socketed tool and even to a design still in use today, can still be seen in the Bronze Age artifacts that have survived to the present day.

Plate V.

Plate V.

SEPULCHRAL POTTERY, BRITISH ISLES (BRONZE AGE).
1-3, Drinking cups or beakers. 4-9, Food vessels. 10-12, Cinerary urns.
SEPULCHRAL POTTERY FROM THE CONTINENT OF EUROPE (NEOLITHIC, BRONZE, AND IRON AGES).
STAGES IN THE EVOLUTION OF THE CELT OR IMPLEMENT OF CHISEL FORM.
(1) From stone to metallic form. (2) Growth of the stop ridge to palstave. (3) Growth of the wings to socket-celt.
By permission, from the British Museum Guide to the Bronze Age.

Plate VI.

Plate 6.

1. Bronze shield with red enamel ornaments, found in the Thames near Battersea; about 31 in. long.
Bronze mounted wooden bucket found in a pit burial at Aylesford.
Early Iron Age.

The objects here represented are all in the British Museum.
By permission, from the British Museum Guide to the Early Iron Age.
Chariot burial of a Gaulish chief, Somme Bionne, Marne, France.
Horned bronze helmet with traces of enamel ornament, found in the Thames near Waterloo Bridge.

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With the discovery of iron as the ideal metal for cutting implements and weapons, we enter into the millennium before the Christian era; for roughly speaking, the development of the civilization associated with the gradual Iron age. substitution of iron for bronze began about 1000 B.C. Again we look towards the south-east of Europe for the earliest evidence of this great advance; from that quarter it gradually spread over the whole continent, reaching the more northern parts about five hundred years later. In Egypt, the home of a marvellous civilization at a very early time, the conditions were different, and there is reason to suppose that iron was known there long before it was in use on the northern side of the Mediterranean. Our knowledge of the dates at which iron was first known in parts of Asia is still very limited, and further discoveries must be awaited.

With the discovery of iron as the perfect metal for tools and weapons, we enter the millennium before the Christian era; roughly speaking, the civilization linked to the gradual replacement of bronze with iron began around 1000 BCE Again, we look to the southeast of Europe for the earliest signs of this significant advancement; from that direction, it slowly spread across the entire continent, reaching the northern areas about five hundred years later. In Egypt, which was home to an incredible civilization very early on, the situation was different, and there’s reason to believe that iron was known there much earlier than it was used in the northern part of the Mediterranean. Our understanding of when iron was first recognized in parts of Asia is still quite limited, and we must wait for further discoveries.

The archaeology of Ireland presents features in many respects different from those of the rest of the British Islands in the Stone and Bronze Ages. Such affinities in style as are traceable connect it rather with Scotland than with Ireland. any part of the south, a fact doubtless due to proximity as well as in part to race connexions. A special feature is the astonishing quantity of gold that was produced in Ireland during the early Bronze Age. The frequent discovery of gold ornaments of this time has enriched to a surprising degree the museum of the Royal Irish Academy in Dublin, while many private and public collections both in Ireland and elsewhere contain a considerable number of similar relics. If these represented the total wealth of gold of the Bronze Age the amount would probably exceed that of any ancient period in any country, except perhaps the republic of Colombia in South America. But the known remains can only be a small proportion of the original wealth. Vast quantities must have been discovered from medieval times onwards, nearly all of which would be melted down, owing to the ignorance of the finders or to the uncertainty of ownership. Further, it may be taken as certain that there still remains in the earth a great mass of the metal which may or may not be discovered at some future time. If it were by any means possible to estimate what these united categories would amount to, the result would scarcely be credited. It is well known that gold has been, and still is, found in Ireland; but it is hard to believe that there were no richer deposits than are now known. It is at any rate certain that the rivers were worked as late as the opening centuries of our era. In the Bronze Age the most characteristic ornaments were penannular objects of all sizes from a small finger ring up to an armlet, generally known as “ring money” from the difficulty of assigning a definite use to the whole series; and the flat, crescent-shaped, diadem-like objects called “lunulae,” which are perhaps even more definitely characteristic of Ireland. Such objects of gold, if ornamented at all, are, like some of the flat axe-heads, engraved with simple geometrical patterns, lozenge-shaped chequers and the like, a type of decoration in itself easily determined as being of the Bronze Age, but bearing at the same time an interesting and very curious analogy to remains of the same period from the Iberian Peninsula, more especially from Portugal. If any overland culture-relations existed between the two countries, it would be only reasonable to expect the occurrence of the objects in question in the intervening districts. But so far nothing of the kind has been discovered. Moreover, had it been an isolated instance of resemblance it might be negligible, but an equally odd similarity is found in the fact that the Irish were in the habit of grinding the faces of their flint arrow-heads, an apparently useless refinement, while the Portuguese of the early Bronze Age did the same. Again, the dolmens of Ireland bear a distinct resemblance to those of Spain and Portugal, while the French dolmens, with few exceptions in the north, have a different character. These curious points are in favour of the tradition that the original inhabitants of Ireland were of Iberian origin, and further, that they did not come overland but by sea, and there are indeed signs of extensive navigation in the Bronze Age of northern Europe. It was perhaps in the middle of our Bronze Age, say about 1000 B.C., that this Iberian race was supplanted by the Celts, who took a considerable time to emerge from their native barbarism. It is, at any rate, fairly certain that for some hundreds of years previous to this Celtic invasion, Ireland was an enormously rich country, supplying not only herself, but also Britain and part of the Atlantic seaboard with gold. The fact became eventually an ingrained tradition in the history of the country, subsisting in Irish literature for centuries after the Christian era. Such natural wealth must have produced in these early times a marked effect on the relations and culture of these Iberian Irish, and one might reasonably expect a much higher level of luxury and wealth than is indicated by the remains commonly found. With the opportunities provided by communication with the continent, and the interchange of goods, with all the chances of benefiting by ideas current among other races, it is astonishing that Ireland did not play a more prominent part in Europe, more than a thousand years before the Christian era.

The archaeology of Ireland has features that are quite different from those of the rest of the British Isles during the Stone and Bronze Ages. The similarities in style connect it more with Scotland than with any part of southern Ireland, a fact likely due to geography as well as racial connections. A notable aspect is the incredible amount of gold produced in Ireland during the early Bronze Age. The frequent discoveries of gold ornaments from this time have significantly enriched the Royal Irish Academy’s museum in Dublin, and many private and public collections in Ireland and beyond contain a considerable number of similar artifacts. If these represented the total wealth of gold in the Bronze Age, the amount would likely surpass that of any ancient period in any country, except perhaps for Colombia in South America. However, the known remains can only be a small fraction of the original wealth. Vast quantities must have been discovered since medieval times, most of which would have been melted down due to the ignorance of those who found them or uncertainties about ownership. Moreover, it’s safe to assume that a large amount of gold still lies in the ground, waiting to be discovered at some point in the future. If it were possible to estimate the total of these categories, the result would be hard to believe. It is well known that gold has been found in Ireland; however, it is hard to picture that there aren’t richer deposits than those currently known. It’s certain that the rivers were panned even in the early centuries of our era. In the Bronze Age, the most common ornaments were penannular items of various sizes, from small finger rings to armlets, generally referred to as “ring money” because it’s hard to determine a specific use for the entire series; and the flat, crescent-shaped, diadem-like pieces known as “lunulae,” which may be even more definitively Irish. Gold items, if decorated at all, are usually engraved with simple geometric patterns, like lozenge-shaped checks, which can be easily identified as Bronze Age but also show a fascinating and curious similarity to items from the same period in the Iberian Peninsula, especially Portugal. If there were any cultural connections over land between the two countries, it would be reasonable to expect these objects in the areas between them. But so far, nothing like that has been found. Additionally, if it were just a single instance of similarity, it might not matter, but a similarly strange fact is that the Irish ground the faces of their flint arrowheads—an apparently unnecessary refinement—just like the Portuguese did in the early Bronze Age. Furthermore, the dolmens in Ireland closely resemble those in Spain and Portugal, whereas French dolmens, with a few exceptions in the north, have a different style. These interesting points support the idea that the original inhabitants of Ireland had Iberian roots, and that they arrived by sea rather than overland; indeed, there are signs of extensive sea navigation in the Bronze Age of northern Europe. It was likely around the middle of our Bronze Age, around 1000 B.C., when this Iberian population was replaced by the Celts, who took quite some time to evolve from their native barbarism. It is fairly certain that for hundreds of years before this Celtic invasion, Ireland was an extremely wealthy country, supplying not only itself but also Britain and parts of the Atlantic coast with gold. This fact became an ingrained part of the country’s history, reflected in Irish literature for centuries after the Christian era. Such natural wealth must have significantly impacted the relationships and culture of these Iberian Irish, and one would expect a much higher level of luxury and wealth than is indicated by the relics commonly found. Given the opportunities for communication with the continent and the exchange of goods, along with the potential to benefit from the ideas of other cultures, it’s surprising that Ireland didn’t play a more significant role in Europe over a thousand years before the Christian era.

While gold as a metal was known in Europe, even before copper, it is a curious fact that silver was almost unknown, and hardly ever used. One of the most interesting sites for the metal, at about the same period of which we have Mediterranean area. just been speaking in Ireland, was the Mediterranean coast of Spain. Here in the neighbourhood of Almeria have been found remains of a large and apparently prosperous population ranging from the Stone Age to the end of the Bronze Age, with houses and tombs, besides the fortifications rendered necessary, in the later period, by their possession of the rare and precious metal, silver. Rare it certainly was, for the quantity found was exceedingly small, tiny slender rings for the fingers or the ears, and rivets to hold the axe-blade in its handle; but nothing to compare with the lavish richness of the American mines. The interesting race who occupied these dwellings and finally were laid to rest in the adjoining graves were evidently connected more or less closely with the peoples inhabiting the eastern coasts of the Mediterranean.

While gold as a metal was known in Europe even before copper, it's interesting to note that silver was almost unknown and hardly ever used. One of the most fascinating sites for the metal around the same time we just mentioned in Ireland was the Mediterranean coast of Spain. Near Almeria, remains of a large and seemingly prosperous population spanning from the Stone Age to the end of the Bronze Age have been found, including houses, tombs, and the fortifications that became necessary due to their ownership of the rare and precious metal, silver. It was indeed rare, as the quantity discovered was extremely small, consisting of tiny slender rings for fingers or ears, and rivets to secure axe blades to their handles; nothing compared to the abundant wealth of the American mines. The intriguing people who lived in these homes and were eventually laid to rest in the nearby graves were clearly linked, more or less, to the communities living along the eastern shores of the Mediterranean.

Recent discoveries in the central Mediterranean area not only furnish new and trustworthy (though none the less surprising) dates in ancient history, but may also bridge the distance between the Levant and the Pillars of Hercules. The results achieved by Arthur Evans and other distinguished explorers in Crete (q.v.) opened a new chapter in the history of European civilization, and may fitly be compared with the excavation of Troy, Mycenae and Tiryns by Schliemann some thirty years before. The progress of archaeology in the interval can be well tested by a comparison of the discussions to which the two series of discoveries gave rise. The mistaken attributions and unfortunate animosities in connexion with earlier excavations are almost forgotten, while the brilliant discoveries in the island of King Minos have not only themselves been made on scientific principles, but are illumined by the splendid revelation of the civilizations of the Mycenaean and the pre-Mycenaean era.

Recent discoveries in the central Mediterranean not only provide new and reliable (but still surprising) dates in ancient history, but they might also connect the Levant to the Pillars of Hercules. The work done by Arthur Evans and other notable explorers in Crete (q.v.) opened a new chapter in the history of European civilization and can be aptly compared to Heinrich Schliemann's excavations of Troy, Mycenae, and Tiryns about thirty years earlier. The advancement of archaeology in that time can be clearly evaluated by comparing the discussions sparked by both sets of discoveries. The earlier mistakes and unfortunate conflicts related to previous excavations are mostly forgotten, while the incredible findings on the island of King Minos have been made using scientific methods and are illuminated by the remarkable insights into the civilizations of the Mycenaean and pre-Mycenaean periods.

A great change indeed took place in the methods of classical study during the last decade of the 19th century, a change which affected the entire character of future classical research. It was formerly the common habit among Classical. students and professors of archaeology to confine their attention and their interests entirely to classical texts and even to classical sites, rejecting as outside the scope of their studies anything that was not manifestly beautiful as art. Whatever was primitive in its aspect, or wanting in the familiar characteristics that had for centuries been associated with Greek art, was either rejected entirely or at any rate relegated to a second place, as having but a poor claim to be classed with objects of the finer periods. The result was necessarily misleading. The uninstructed majority very naturally regarded the art of Pheidian times as a thing of supernatural growth, which had been bestowed by divine favour upon a chosen spot on the earth, without a human parentage, and almost without leaving any descendants. The evolutionary methods of other branches of science, however, were by degrees brought to bear upon the sacred precincts of pure Greek art. It was found that the crude products of the second millennium B.C., the formless images evolved by the uncultured dwellers in the Mediterranean area more than a 354 thousand years before the time of Pheidias, were in truth the prototypes of the creations of himself and his contemporaries. This step being taken, the rest became easy. The most commonplace and ordinary relics were collected with as much avidity as they had formerly been rejected, in the belief that their simple forms would aid in the elucidation of their more complex and highly elaborated descendants. This minute attention, moreover, was not only given to the works of man, but even the remains of humanity received the attention they merited. It has been rightly thought, during recent years, that the question of race was a factor that deserved treatment in dealing with works of art of early times; and that natural evolution due to man’s tendency to change with time, might not be sufficient to account for the differences of type observed in human remains from the same country. For this reason, not only the objects associated with the burial have been preserved, but also the skeleton itself. This has been examined, measurements taken and recorded for comparison, and inferences made, sometimes of a surprising character. For example, if a cemetery be found with a preponderance of tall, long-headed skeletons in a district where the prevailing type of skeleton is short and brachycephalic (short-headed), the observer may reasonably expect a different kind of burial-furniture, and suspect an intruding race. In this particular respect, archaeology owes a signal debt to physical anthropology and to anthropological methods in general. The combination of the two is far more likely to lead to a reasonable and satisfactory conclusion than would be possible if the one branch of science had been pursued alone.

A significant change happened in the way classical studies were approached during the last decade of the 19th century, a shift that influenced the entire nature of future classical research. It used to be common for students and professors of archaeology to limit their focus and interests to classical texts and sites, ignoring anything that wasn't clearly beautiful as art. Anything that looked primitive or lacked the familiar traits associated with Greek art was either completely dismissed or placed in a secondary category, seen as having little claim to be recognized alongside finer period objects. This led to a misleading understanding. The uninformed masses naturally viewed the art from the Pheidian era as a supernatural phenomenon, a gift granted by divine favor to a specific place on Earth, without any human influence or apparent descendants. However, over time, the evolutionary approaches from other scientific fields began to inform the study of pure Greek art. It became clear that the crude artworks from the second millennium B.C., the shapeless figures created by the unrefined inhabitants of the Mediterranean area more than a thousand years before Pheidias, were actually the forerunners of his works and those of his contemporaries. Once this recognition was made, the rest followed easily. The most ordinary relics were gathered with as much enthusiasm as they had previously been dismissed, under the belief that their simple designs would help clarify the more complex and refined successors. This careful study extended beyond human handiwork; even human remains received the attention they deserved. In recent years, it has been rightly considered that race is an important factor when examining early art, and that natural evolution alone, due to humanity's tendency to change over time, might not sufficiently explain the different body types found in remains from the same region. For this reason, not only have the burial objects been preserved, but also the skeletons themselves. These have been examined, measured, recorded for comparison, and used to draw sometimes surprising conclusions. For instance, if a cemetery is found with a majority of tall, long-headed skeletons in an area where the typical skeleton is short and round-headed, the observer might justifiably anticipate different burial customs and suspect an outside group. In this regard, archaeology owes a great deal to physical anthropology and anthropological methods in general. The combination of these fields is far more likely to yield logical and satisfactory conclusions than if either discipline were studied in isolation.

When once the existence of abundant remains of prehistoric man had been admitted, and their study had received recognition as a branch of science, the evidence supplied by the relics themselves and by their relation to Value of ethnology. extinct or existing animals would have sufficed to give a considerable insight into the conditions of primitive life. But, fortunately, corroborative evidence of the most useful kind was at hand, and has been of the greatest service in solving what might otherwise have been insoluble problems. Though the progress of civilization, and more especially the ever increasing rapidity of communication are rapidly changing the habits of life among the primitive peoples in various parts of the world, yet till past the middle of the 19th century, a certain number of tribes, if not races, were still in the Stone Age. Even at the present day stone-using tribes still exist, although by chance metal may be known to them. The importance of the study of their conditions of life and their technical processes, and of the collecting of their implements for the express purpose of illustrating prehistoric man, was recognized by Henry Christy (1810-1865), who had made extensive investigations and collected relics in conjunction with Edouard Lartet in the now famous caverns of the Dordogne, at a time when such explorations were somewhat of a novelty; and concurrently he formed a large collection of the productions of existing savage peoples, both collections after his death passing to the British Museum, his intention being that the one should elucidate the ether. (It is only fair to his memory, however, to state here that, by his express wish, the most important of the relics that he had obtained from the Dordogne caves were returned to France where they now are. Such instances of international courtesy are rare enough to deserve mention.) The value and interest of such a series can scarcely be over-rated. Almost till the 20th century, the Indians of North America, the Australian and Tasmanian natives, as well as those of New Zealand and the many archipelagoes of the Pacific, were, if not ignorant of the use of metals, at least habitually using stone where civilized man would use metal. The Maori made his war club of jade and the pounders for preparing his food of stone. The Australian had his stone axe-blade; and low as he stands in the culture scale, his spear-heads are chipped with an exquisite precision. The Papuan of inland New Guinea is still making his weapons of stone and wood; while until quite recently the North American Indian was making his delicate stone arrow points, and the Solomon islander his beautiful polished stone axe-blades. The knowledge gained by the study of a large series of such objects enables us to fill up very many gaps in the story of early man as told by his own remains. In fact, in this respect, the value of the comparison is much greater than could reasonably be expected; for, whatever may be the reason, nothing is more marked than the extraordinary similarity of stone implements at all times and over the whole world. An arrow-point made by a Patagonian Indian, one from a Japanese shell mound, and a third of the Stone Age from Ireland, are found to be practically identical. Whether it is that the same material and the same necessity naturally produce a like result, or whether there has existed throughout a continuity of type, is a question that will never be satisfactorily answered. The results, however, are of eminently practical value. The arrow-heads of neolithic man, which are found by hundreds all over Europe, may be seen fixed in their shafts in the hands of an American Indian; rude pieces of quartz, which unmounted would escape notice as implements, are seen to make excellent tools when mounted in a handle by the Australian black, while flakes of slate find a use when mounted as skinning knives by the Eskimo.

Once the existence of abundant remains of prehistoric humans was accepted and their study recognized as a scientific field, the evidence provided by the relics themselves and their connection to extinct or existing animals would have offered significant insights into the conditions of primitive life. Fortunately, there was additional corroborative evidence available that has been instrumental in solving what might have otherwise been impossible problems. Although the progress of civilization, particularly the increasing speed of communication, is rapidly changing the way of life for primitive peoples around the world, a number of tribes, if not races, were still in the Stone Age well into the mid-19th century. Even today, stone-using tribes still exist, even if they are aware of metal. The importance of studying their living conditions and technical processes, as well as collecting their tools to illustrate prehistoric humans, was recognized by Henry Christy (1810-1865), who conducted extensive investigations and collected relics alongside Edouard Lartet in the now-famous caves of Dordogne, at a time when such explorations were relatively novel. He also built a large collection of artifacts from existing tribal peoples, with both collections passing to the British Museum after his death, as he intended for one to shed light on the other. (It is only fair to note that, by his express wish, the most important relics obtained from the Dordogne caves were returned to France, where they remain. Such instances of international courtesy are rare and deserve mention.) The significance and interest of such a collection cannot be overstated. Until almost the 20th century, the Indigenous peoples of North America, together with the Australian and Tasmanian natives, as well as those from New Zealand and the various Pacific islands, were either unaware of metal or still regularly used stone where a civilized person would use metal. The Maori crafted war clubs from jade and made stone tools for food preparation. The Australian made stone axe blades, and although he may not have been highly advanced culturally, his spearheads were fashioned with remarkable precision. The Papuan people of inland New Guinea still create weapons out of stone and wood, while up until recently, North American Indians made delicate stone arrow points, and natives of the Solomon Islands crafted beautifully polished stone axe blades. The knowledge gained from studying a wide variety of such objects allows us to fill in many gaps in the story of early humans as told through their remains. In this regard, the comparative value is much greater than one might expect; whatever the reasons, there is an undeniable similarity in stone tools throughout history and across the globe. An arrow point made by a Patagonian Indian, one from a Japanese shell mound, and another from Ireland's Stone Age, are found to be nearly indistinguishable. Whether the same materials and needs naturally lead to similar results or whether there has been a continuous type throughout time is a question that may never be definitively answered. Nevertheless, the outcomes are of clear practical significance. The arrowheads of Neolithic humans, which are found in abundance across Europe, can also be seen fixed to shafts in the hands of American Indians; crude pieces of quartz, which might go unnoticed as tools, become excellent implements when mounted in handles by Australian Aborigines, while flakes of slate are repurposed as skinning knives by Eskimos.

Now that the narrower conception of archaeology as a minor branch of classical studies has been given up, the new science has gradually won its way to universal recognition; and anthropology, a still wider subject but in many Organized study. points closely allied to the scientific study of ancient remains, has still more recently found favour at all the leading universities, and practical measures have been taken to establish the study on a firm and scientific basis. Apart from this official encouragement, much has been done towards the systematization and teaching of archaeology by practical excavators, whose pupils have attained considerable numbers and celebrity. Something has been done, too, in the national and provincial museums, to present the relics of past ages in an intelligible manner, so that the collections no longer consist of curiosities but of documents rich in instruction and interest even to the general visitor. The progress of photography, as well as the improvement and cheapening of methods of illustration, have also assisted enormously in the advance of archaeology; and similarly, the antiquities exhibited in museums and private collections to illustrate and amplify written records, have in the last generation received much attention on their own account, and have reacted in various ways on the teaching of ancient history. In some countries a further step in general education has been taken, and the lamentable waste of archaeological material arrested to some extent by the distribution of pictures and diagrams among schools and institutions, to call attention to the more ordinary local types, and to encourage those who are likely to discover them in the soil to save them from destruction and render them available for scientific study. A certain familiarity on the part of the young with the mere appearance of antiquities that come to light continually and are almost as often discarded or destroyed, would probably result in valuable additions being made to the available data.

Now that the narrow view of archaeology as just a small part of classical studies has been abandoned, this new science has gradually gained widespread recognition. Anthropology, which is an even broader field but closely related to the scientific study of ancient remains, has also recently received support at top universities, and steps have been taken to establish it on a solid and scientific foundation. Beyond this official backing, a lot has been done to systematize and teach archaeology by hands-on excavators, and many of their students have gained significant recognition and success. Additionally, efforts in national and local museums have improved the way historical artifacts are presented, transforming collections from mere curiosities into educational documents that are interesting even for general visitors. Advances in photography, along with better and more affordable illustration methods, have also greatly boosted the field of archaeology. Similarly, the antiquities displayed in museums and private collections to enhance written records have received more attention in recent years and have influenced the teaching of ancient history in various ways. In some countries, educational initiatives have progressed further, aiming to reduce the unfortunate loss of archaeological materials by distributing pictures and diagrams in schools and institutions. This initiative highlights common local artifacts and encourages those who might find them in the ground to preserve them for scientific study. Familiarizing young people with the appearance of these artifacts, which are constantly being uncovered and often discarded or destroyed, could lead to valuable contributions to the available data.

Bibliography.—The most useful general works are the following:— Salomon Reinach, Epoque des alluvions et des cavernes (Musée de St Germain); Hoernes, Der diluviale Mensch in Europa; Sir John Evans, Stone Implements of Great Britain, and Bronze Implements of Great Britain; Boyd Dawkins, Cave-hunting, and Early Man in Britain; Greenwell, British Barrows; W.G. Smith, Man the Primeval Savage; James Geikie, Prehistoric Europe; Mortillet, Le Préhistorique; Robert Munro, Lake Dwellings of Europe; Ridgeway, Early Age of Greece; Jos. Anderson, Scotland in Pagan Times; the works of Oscar Montelius and Sophus Müller; L’Anthropologie, Matériaux pour l’histoire primitive de l’homme; Christy and Lartet, Reliquiae Aquitanicae; A. Michaelis, A Century of Archaeological Discovery (Eng. trans., 1908). See also Anthropology, and authorities mentioned there; Stone Age; Bronze Age; Iron Age, &c.; Geology; and the articles on different countries and sites.

References.—The most useful general works are the following:— Salomon Reinach, Epoch of Alluvium and Caves (Museum of St Germain); Hoernes, The Diluvial Man in Europe; Sir John Evans, Stone Tools of Great Britain, and Bronze Tools of Great Britain; Boyd Dawkins, Cave Hunting, and Early Humans in Britain; Greenwell, British Barrows; W.G. Smith, Man the Primeval Savage; James Geikie, Prehistoric Europe; Mortillet, The Prehistoric; Robert Munro, Lake Dwellings of Europe; Ridgeway, Early Age of Greece; Jos. Anderson, Scotland in Pagan Times; the works of Oscar Montelius and Sophus Müller; L’Anthropologie, Materials for the Primitive History of Man; Christy and Lartet, Reliquiae Aquitanicae; A. Michaelis, A Century of Archaeological Discovery (English translation, 1908). See also Anthropology, and the authorities mentioned there; Stone Age; Bronze Age; Iron Age, &c.; Geology; and the articles on various countries and sites.

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ARCHAEOPTERYX. The name of Archaeopteryx lithographica was based by Hermann von Meyer upon a feather (Gr. πτέρυξ, wing) found in 1861 in the lithographic slate quarries of Solenhofen in Bavaria, the geological horizon being that of the Kimmeridge clay of the Upper Oolite or Jurassic system. In the same year and at the same place was discovered the specimen (figs. 1 and 3) 355 now in the British Museum, named by Andreas Wagner Griphosaurus. Sir R. Owen has described it as A. macroura. Stimulated by the high price paid by the British Museum, the quarry owners diligently searched, and in 1872 another, much finer, preserved specimen was found. This was bought by K.W. v. Siemens, who presented it to the Berlin Museum. The late W. Dames has written an excellent monograph on it.

ARCHAEOPTERYX. The name Archaeopteryx lithographica was given by Hermann von Meyer based on a feather (Gr. wing, wing) discovered in 1861 in the lithographic slate quarries of Solenhofen in Bavaria, dating back to the Kimmeridge clay of the Upper Oolite or Jurassic period. That same year and at the same location, another specimen (figs. 1 and 3) 355 was found, which is now in the British Museum and was named by Andreas Wagner Griphosaurus. Sir R. Owen later described it as A. macroura. Encouraged by the high price paid by the British Museum, the quarry owners worked hard to find more, and in 1872 they discovered another, much better-preserved specimen. This was purchased by K.W. v. Siemens, who donated it to the Berlin Museum. The late W. Dames wrote an outstanding monograph on it.

Fig. 1.—The British Museum specimen.
Fig. 2.—The specimen in the Museum für Naturkunde, Berlin. After a photograph taken from a cast.

Archaeopteryx was a bird, without any doubt, but still with so many low, essentially reptilian characters that it forms a link between these two classes. About the size of a rook, its most obvious peculiarity is the long reptilian tail, composed of 20 vertebrae and not ending in a pygostyle. The last dozen vertebrae each carry a pair of well-developed typical quills. Upon these features of the tail E. Haeckel established the subclass Saururae, containing solely Archaeopteryx, in opposition to the Ornithurae, comprising all the other birds. Herein he has been followed by many zoologists. However, the fact that various recent birds possess the same kind of caudal skeleton, likewise without a pygostyle, although reduced to at least 13 vertebrae, shows that the two terms do not express a fundamental difference.

Archaeopteryx was definitely a bird, but it also had many primitive, reptilian traits that connect the two groups. About the size of a rook, its most noticeable feature is the long reptilian tail, made up of 20 vertebrae and not ending in a pygostyle. The last dozen vertebrae each have a pair of well-developed, typical feathers. Based on these tail characteristics, E. Haeckel established the subclass Saururae, which includes only Archaeopteryx, in contrast to the Ornithurae, which encompasses all other birds. Many zoologists have agreed with this classification. However, the fact that several modern birds also have a similar type of tail skeleton, which also lacks a pygostyle and has at least 13 vertebrae, indicates that the two terms do not represent a fundamental difference.

Fig. 3.—Tail of British Museum specimen.

The importance of Archaeopteryx justifies the following descriptive detail. Vertebral column composed of about 50 vertebrae, viz. 10-11 cervical, 12-11 thoracic, 2 lumbar, 5-6 sacral, and 20 or 21 caudal, with a total caudal length of the Berlin specimen of 7 in. The cervical and thoracic vertebrae seem to be biconcave; the cervical ribs are much reduced and were apparently still movable; the thoracic ribs are devoid of uncinate processes. Paired abdominal ribs are doubtful. Scarcely anything is known of the sternum, and little of the shoulder-girdle, except the very stout furcula; scapula typically bird-like. Humerus about 2½ in. long, with a strong crista lateralis, which indicates a strongly developed great pectoral muscle and hence, by inference, the presence of a keel to the sternum. Radius and ulna typically avine, 2.1 in. in length. Carpus with two separate bones. The hand skeleton consists of 3 completely separate metacarpals, each carrying a complete, likewise free, finger; the shortened thumb with 2, the index with 3, the third with 4 phalanges; each finger with a curved claw. The whole wing is consequently, although essentially avine, still reptilian in the unfused state of the metacarpals and the numbers of the phalanges. The pelvis is imperfectly known. The preacetabular portion of the ilium is shorter than the posterior half. The hind-limb is typically avine, with intertarsal joint, distally reduced fibula, and the three elongated metatarsals which show already considerable anchylosis; reduction of the toes to four, with 2, 3, 4 and 5 phalanges; the hallux is separate, and as usual in recent birds posterior in position. Skull bird-like, except that the short bill cannot have been enclosed in a horny rhamphotheca, since the upper jaw shows a row of 13, the lower jaw 3 conical teeth, all implanted in distinct sockets.

The significance of Archaeopteryx warrants the following detailed description. Its vertebral column consists of about 50 vertebrae: 10-11 cervical, 12-11 thoracic, 2 lumbar, 5-6 sacral, and 20 or 21 caudal, with a total caudal length of the Berlin specimen measuring 7 inches. The cervical and thoracic vertebrae appear to be biconcave; the cervical ribs are significantly reduced and were likely still movable; the thoracic ribs lack uncinate processes. The paired abdominal ribs are uncertain. Very little is known about the sternum and even less about the shoulder girdle, except for the robust furcula; the scapula is characteristically bird-like. The humerus is approximately 2½ inches long, featuring a prominent crista lateralis, which suggests a well-developed great pectoral muscle, and consequently, implies the presence of a keel on the sternum. The radius and ulna are typically avian, measuring 2.1 inches in length. The carpus consists of two separate bones. The hand skeleton includes three completely separate metacarpals, each supporting a complete, also free, finger; the shortened thumb has 2 phalanges, the index has 3, and the third finger has 4 phalanges; each finger ends with a curved claw. Thus, while the entire wing is predominantly avian, it still retains some reptilian traits in the unfused condition of the metacarpals and the number of phalanges. The pelvis is not well understood. The preacetabular portion of the ilium is shorter than the posterior half. The hind limb is typically avian, featuring an intertarsal joint, a distally reduced fibula, and three elongated metatarsals that show significant ankylosis; the toes are reduced to four, with 2, 3, 4, and 5 phalanges; the hallux is separate and, as is common in modern birds, positioned posteriorly. The skull is bird-like, except that the short bill likely wasn’t covered in a horny rhamphotheca, as the upper jaw displays a row of 13 conical teeth, while the lower jaw has 3, all set in distinct sockets.

The remiges and rectrices indicate perfect feathers, with shaft and complete vanes which were so neatly finished that they must have possessed typical radii and hooklets. Some of the quills measure fully 5 in. in length. Six or seven remiges were attached to the hand, ten to the ulna.

The wing feathers and tail feathers show perfect quality, with well-formed shafts and complete vanes that were so carefully finished they must have had standard radii and hooklets. Some of the quills are up to 5 inches long. There were six or seven wing feathers attached to the hand and ten attached to the ulna.

It is idle to speculate on the habits of this earliest of known birds. That it could fly is certain, and the feet show it to have 356 been well adapted to arboreal life. The clawed slender fingers did not make Archaeopteryx any more quadrupedal or bat-like in its habits than is a kestrel hawk, with its equally large, or even larger thumb-claw.

It’s pointless to guess about the habits of this earliest known bird. What we do know for sure is that it could fly, and its feet indicate it was well suited for life in trees. The clawed, slender fingers didn’t make Archaeopteryx any more like a four-legged creature or a bat than a kestrel hawk, which also has a large, or even larger, thumb-claw.

Bibliography.—H. v. Meyer, Neues Jahrb.f. Mineralog. (1861), p. 679; Sir R. Owen, “On the Archaeopteryx von Meyer...” Phil. Trans., 1863, pp. 33-47, pls. i.-iv.; T.H. Huxley, “Remarks on the Skeleton of the Archaeopteryx and on the relations of the bird to the reptile,” Geol. Mag. i., 1864, pp. 55-57; C. Vogt, “L’Archaeopteryx macrura,” Revue scient. de la France et de l’étranger, 1879, pp. 241-248; W. Dames, “Über Archaeopteryx,” Palaeontol. Abhandl. ii. (Berlin, 1884); Idem, “Über Brustbein Schulter- und Beckengürtel der Archaeopteryx,” Math. naturw. Mitth. Berlin. vii. (1897), pp. 476-492.

References.—H. v. Meyer, New Yearbook for Mineralogy (1861), p. 679; Sir R. Owen, “On the Archaeopteryx von Meyer...” Philosophical Transactions, 1863, pp. 33-47, pls. i.-iv.; T.H. Huxley, “Remarks on the Skeleton of the Archaeopteryx and on the Relations of the Bird to the Reptile,” Geological Magazine Volume I, 1864, pp. 55-57; C. Vogt, “The Archaeopteryx macrura,” Scientific Review of France and Abroad, 1879, pp. 241-248; W. Dames, “On Archaeopteryx,” Paleontological Papers ii. (Berlin, 1884); Same Author, “On the Sternum, Shoulder, and Pelvic Girdles of the Archaeopteryx,” Mathematical and Natural Science Reports Berlin. vii. (1897), pp. 476-492.

(H. F. G.)

ARCHAISM (adj. “archaic”; from Gr. ἁρχαῖος, old), an old-fashioned usage, or the deliberate employment of an out-of-date and ancient mode of expression.

ARCHAISM (adj. “archaic”; from Gr. ancient, old), a usage that feels old-fashioned, or the intentional use of outdated and ancient ways of expressing something.


ARCHANGEL (Archangelsk), a government of European Russia, bounded N. by the White Sea and Arctic Ocean, W. by Finland and Olonets, S. by Vologda, and E. by the Ural mountains. It comprehends the islands of Novaya-Zemlya, Vaygach and Kolguev, and the peninsula of Kola. Its area is 331,505 sq. m., and its population in 1867 was 275,779 and in 1897, 349,943. The part which lies within the Arctic Circle is very desolate and sterile, consisting chiefly of sand and reindeer moss. The winter is long and severe, and even in summer the soil is frozen. The rivers (Tuloma, Onega, Dvina, Mezen and Pechora) are closed in September and scarcely thaw before July. The Kola peninsula is, however, diversified by hills exceeding 3000 ft. in altitude and by large lakes (e.g. Imandra), and its coast enjoys a much more genial climate. South of the Arctic Circle the greater part of the country is covered with forests, intermingled with lakes and morasses, though in places there is excellent pasturage. Here the spring is moist, with cold, frosty nights; the summer a succession of long foggy days; the autumn again moist. The rivers are closed from October to April. The inhabitants of the northern districts—nomad tribes of Samoyedes, Zyryans, Lapps, and the Finnish tribes of Karelians and Chudes—support themselves by fishing and hunting. In the southern districts hemp and flax are raised, but grain crops are little cultivated, so that the bark of trees has often to be ground up to eke out the scanty supply of flour. Potatoes are grown as far north as 65°. Shipbuilding is carried on, and the forests yield timber, pitch and tar. Excellent cattle are raised in the district of Kholmogory on the Dvina, veal being supplied to St Petersburg. Gold is found in the districts of Kola, naphtha and salt in those of Kem and Pinega, and lignite in Mezen. Sulphurous springs exist in the districts of Kholmogory and Shenkursk. The industry and commerce are noticed below in the article on the town Archangel, which is the capital. The government is divided into nine districts, the chief towns of which are—Alexandrovsk or Kola (pop. 300), Archangel (q.v.), Kem (1825), Kholmogory (1465), Mezen (2040), Novaya-Zemlya (island), Pechora, Pinega (1000) and Shenkursk (1308).

ARCHANGEL (Arkhangelsk) is a region in European Russia, bordered to the north by the White Sea and Arctic Ocean, to the west by Finland and Olonets, to the south by Vologda, and to the east by the Ural mountains. It includes the islands of Novaya Zemlya, Vaygach, and Kolguev, as well as the Kola Peninsula. The area is 331,505 square miles, with a population of 275,779 in 1867 and 349,943 in 1897. The part within the Arctic Circle is quite desolate and barren, mostly consisting of sand and reindeer moss. Winters are long and harsh, and even in summer, the ground remains frozen. The rivers (Tuloma, Onega, Dvina, Mezen, and Pechora) freeze in September, thawing only just before July. However, the Kola Peninsula features hills rising over 3,000 feet and large lakes (e.g., Imandra), with a much more mild climate along its coast. South of the Arctic Circle, most of the region is covered in forests, mixed with lakes and marshes, though there is good pastureland in some areas. Spring is wet with cold, frosty nights; summer consists of long, foggy days; and autumn is also damp. Rivers are frozen from October to April. The northern districts are home to nomadic tribes like the Samoyedes, Zyryans, Lapps, and the Finnish tribes of Karelians and Chudes, who survive by fishing and hunting. In the southern districts, hemp and flax are grown, but grain farming is minimal, often leading to the grinding of tree bark to supplement the limited flour supply. Potatoes are cultivated as far north as 65°. Shipbuilding occurs here, and forests provide timber, pitch, and tar. High-quality cattle are raised in the Kholmogory area on the Dvina, with veal supplied to St. Petersburg. Gold is found in Kola, naphtha and salt in Kem and Pinega, and lignite in Mezen. Sulfur springs can be found in Kholmogory and Shenkursk. Industry and commerce are mentioned further in the article on the city of Archangel, which serves as the capital. The region is divided into nine districts, with the main towns being—Alexandrovsk or Kola (population 300), Archangel (q.v.), Kem (1825), Kholmogory (1465), Mezen (2040), Novaya Zemlya (island), Pechora, Pinega (1000), and Shenkursk (1308).

See A.P. Engelhardt, A Russian Province of the North (Eng. trans., by H. Cooke, 1899).

See A.P. Engelhardt, A Russian Province of the North (Eng. trans., by H. Cooke, 1899).


ARCHANGEL (Archangelsk), chief town of the government of Archangel, Russia, at the head of the delta of the Dvina, on the right bank of the river, in lat. 64° 32′ N. and long. 40° 33′ E. Pop. (1867) 19,936; (1897) 20,933. As early as the 10th century, if not earlier, the Norsemen frequented this part of the world (Bjarmeland) on trading expeditions; the best-known is that made by Ottar or Othere between 880 and 900 and described (or translated) by Alfred the Great, king of England. The modern town dates, however, from the visit of the English voyager, Richard Chancellor, in 1553. An English factory was erected on the lower Dvina soon after that date, and in 1584 a fort was built, around which the town grew up. Archangel was for long the only seaport of Russia (or Muscovy). The tsar Boris Godunov (1598-1605) threw the trade open to all nations; and the chief participants in it were England, Holland and Germany. In 1668-1684 the great bazaar and trading hall was built, principally by Tatar prisoners. In 1691-1700 the exports to England averaged £112,210 annually. After Peter the Great made St Petersburg the capital of his dominions (1702), he placed Archangel under vexatious commercial disabilities, and consequently its trade declined. In 1762 it was granted the same privileges as St Petersburg, and since then it has gradually recovered its former prosperity. It is the seat of a bishop, and has a cathedral (1709-1743), a museum, the monastery of the Archangel Michael (whence the city gets its name), an ecclesiastical seminary, a school of navigation and a naval hospital. Linen, leather, canvas, cordage, mats, tallow, potash and beer are manufactured. There is a lively trade with St Petersburg, and the sea-borne exports, which consist chiefly of timber, flax, linseed, oats, flour, pitch, tar, skins and mats, amount in value to about 1½ millions sterling annually (82½ % for timber), but the imports (mostly fish) are worth only about £200,000. A fish fair is held every year on the 1st (15th) of September. Archangel communicates with the interior of Russia by river and canal, and has a railway line (522 m.) to Yaroslavl. The harbour, deepened to 18¼ ft., is about a mile below the city, and is accessible from May to October. About 12 m. lower down there are a government dockyard and merchants’ warehouses. A new military harbour, Alexandrovsk or Port Catherine, has been made on Catherine (Ekaterininsk) Bay, on the Murman coast of the Kola peninsula. The shortest day at Archangel has only 3 hrs. 12 min., the longest 21 hrs. 48 min. of daylight.

ARCHANGEL (Arkhangelsk), the main town of the Archangel region in Russia, is located at the head of the Dvina delta, on the right bank of the river, at latitude 64° 32′ N and longitude 40° 33′ E. Population: (1867) 19,936; (1897) 20,933. As early as the 10th century, and possibly even earlier, the Norsemen explored this area (Bjarmeland) for trading; the most famous expedition was led by Ottar or Othere between 880 and 900, which was described (or translated) by Alfred the Great, King of England. The modern town, however, was established after English traveler Richard Chancellor visited in 1553. An English trading post was set up on the lower Dvina soon after, and a fort was built in 1584 around which the town developed. For a long time, Archangel was Russia's (or Muscovy's) only seaport. Tsar Boris Godunov (1598-1605) opened trade to all nations, with England, Holland, and Germany being the main participants. Between 1668 and 1684, a major market and trading hall were constructed, mainly by Tatar prisoners. From 1691 to 1700, exports to England averaged £112,210 annually. After Peter the Great made St. Petersburg the capital in 1702, he imposed significant commercial restrictions on Archangel, leading to a decline in its trade. In 1762, it was granted the same rights as St. Petersburg, and since then it has gradually regained its former prosperity. It is home to a bishop and features a cathedral (1709-1743), a museum, the Archangel Michael monastery (from which the city gets its name), an ecclesiastical seminary, a navigation school, and a naval hospital. Industries include textiles, leather, canvas, rope, mats, tallow, potash, and beer production. There is active trade with St. Petersburg, and the sea-borne exports, mainly timber, flax, linseed, oats, flour, pitch, tar, skins, and mats, amount to about 1.5 million pounds annually (82.5% from timber), while imports (mostly fish) are valued at approximately £200,000. A fish fair is held every year on September 1st (15th). Archangel connects to the interior of Russia via river and canal, and has a railway line (522 miles) to Yaroslavl. The harbor, deepened to 18¼ ft., is about a mile downstream from the city and is accessible from May to October. About 12 miles further down, there are government docks and merchants’ warehouses. A new military harbor, Alexandrovsk or Port Catherine, has been established at Catherine (Ekaterininsk) Bay on the Murman coast of the Kola Peninsula. The shortest day in Archangel has only 3 hours and 12 minutes of daylight, while the longest day features 21 hours and 48 minutes of daylight.


ARCHBALD, a borough of Lackawanna county, Pennsylvania, U.S.A., in the N.E. part of the state, 10 m. N.E. of Scranton. Pop. (1890) 4032; (1900) 5396; (1869 foreign-born); (1910) 7194. It is served by the Delaware & Hudson, and the New York, Ontario & Western railways, and by an interurban electric line. It is about 900 ft. above sea-level; in the vicinity are extensive deposits of anthracite coal, the mining and breaking of which is the principal industry; silk throwing and weaving is another industry of the borough. At Archbald is a large glacial “pot hole,” about 20 ft. in diameter and 40 ft. in depth. Archbald, named in honour of James Archbald, formerly chief engineer of the Delaware & Hudson railway, was a part of Blakely township (incorporated in 1818) until 1877, when it became a borough.

ARCHBALD, is a borough in Lackawanna County, Pennsylvania, U.S.A., located in the northeastern part of the state, 10 miles northeast of Scranton. Population: (1890) 4,032; (1900) 5,396; (1869 foreign-born); (1910) 7,194. It's served by the Delaware & Hudson and the New York, Ontario & Western railways, along with an interurban electric line. The area is about 900 feet above sea level and has extensive anthracite coal deposits, which are the main industry, while silk throwing and weaving are also important to the borough's economy. Archbald features a large glacial "pothole," about 20 feet in diameter and 40 feet deep. Named after James Archbald, who was the chief engineer of the Delaware & Hudson railway, Archbald was part of Blakely Township (incorporated in 1818) until it became a borough in 1877.


ARCHBISHOP (Lat. archiepiscopus, from Gr. ἀρχιεπίσκοπος), in the Christian Church, the title of a bishop of superior rank, implying usually jurisdiction over other bishops, but no superiority of order over them. The functions of the archbishop, as at present exercised, developed out of those of the metropolitan (q.v.); though the title of archbishop, when it first appeared, implied no metropolitan jurisdiction. Nor are the terms interchangeable now; for not all metropolitans are archbishops,1 nor all archbishops metropolitans. The title seems to have been introduced first in the East, in the 4th century, as an honorary distinction implying no superiority of jurisdiction. Its first recorded use is by Athanasius, bishop of Alexandria, who applied it to his predecessor Alexander as a mark of respect. In the same way Gregory of Nazianzus bestowed it upon Athanasius himself. In the next century its use would seem to have been more common as the title of bishops of important sees; for several archbishops are stated to have been present at the council of Chalcedon in 451. In the Western Church the title was hardly known before the 7th century, and did not become common until the Carolingian emperors revived the right of the metropolitans to summon provincial synods. The metropolitans now commonly assumed the title of archbishop to mark their pre-eminence over the other bishops; at the same time the obligation imposed upon them, mainly at the instance of St Boniface, to receive the pallium (q.v.) from Rome, definitely marked the defeat of their claim to exercise metropolitan jurisdiction independently of the pope.

ARCHBISHOP (Lat. archiepiscopus, from Gr. archbishop), in the Christian Church, is the title for a bishop of higher rank, usually indicating authority over other bishops, but without implying a higher order than them. The roles of the archbishop, as practiced today, evolved from those of the metropolitan (q.v.); however, when the title of archbishop was first introduced, it did not imply metropolitan authority. The terms are not interchangeable now; not all metropolitans are archbishops, and not all archbishops are metropolitans. The title appears to have been first used in the East in the 4th century as an honorary distinction with no superior jurisdiction. Its first recorded use was by Athanasius, bishop of Alexandria, who referred to his predecessor Alexander as a sign of respect. Similarly, Gregory of Nazianzus conferred the title on Athanasius himself. By the next century, its use seems to have become more widespread as the title for bishops of significant sees; several archbishops were noted to be present at the council of Chalcedon in 451. In the Western Church, the title was barely known before the 7th century and only became common once the Carolingian emperors revived the right of the metropolitans to call provincial synods. The metropolitans then commonly took on the title of archbishop to signify their superiority over other bishops; at the same time, the requirement imposed on them, largely due to St. Boniface, to receive the pallium (q.v.) from Rome, clearly indicated the end of their claim to exercise metropolitan authority independently of the pope.

At the present day, the title of archbishop is retained in the Roman Catholic Church, the various oriental churches, the Anglican Church, and certain branches of the Lutheran (Evangelical) Church.

At present, the title of archbishop is maintained in the Roman Catholic Church, various Eastern churches, the Anglican Church, and certain branches of the Lutheran (Evangelical) Church.

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In the Roman Catholic Church the powers of the archbishop are considerably less extensive than they were in the middle ages. According to the medieval canon law, based on the decretals, and codified in the 13th century in the Roman Catholic Church. Corpus juris canonici, by which the earlier powers of metropolitans had been greatly curtailed, the powers of the archbishop consisted in the right (1) to confirm and consecrate suffragan bishops; (2) to summon and preside over provincial synods; (3) to superintend the suffragans and visit their dioceses, as well as to censure and punish bishops in the interests of discipline, the right of deprivation, however, being reserved to the pope; (4) to act as a court of appeal from the diocesan courts; (5) to exercise the jus devolutionis, i.e. present to benefices in the gift of bishops, if these neglect their duty in this respect. These rights were greatly curtailed by the council of Trent. The confirmation and consecration of bishops (q.v.) is now reserved to the Holy See. The summoning of provincial synods, which was made obligatory every three years by the council, was long neglected, but is now more common wherever the political conditions, e.g. in the United States, Great Britain and France, are favourable. The disciplinary powers of the archbishop, on the other hand, can scarcely be said to survive. The right to hold a visitation of a suffragan’s diocese or to issue censures against him was, by Sess. xxiv. c. 3 de ref., of the council of Trent, made dependent upon the consent of the provincial synod after cause shown (causa cognita et probata); and the only two powers left to the archbishop in this respect are to watch over the diocesan seminaries and to compel the residence of the bishop in his diocese. The right of the archbishop to exercise a certain disciplinary power over the regular orders is possessed by him, not as archbishop, but as the delegate ad hoc of the pope. Finally, the function of the archbishop as judge in a court of appeal, though it still subsists, is of little practical importance now that the clergy, in civil matters, are universally subject to the secular courts.

In the Roman Catholic Church, the archbishop's powers are much more limited now than they were in the Middle Ages. Under medieval canon law, based on the decretals and codified in the 13th century in the Catholic Church. Corpus juris canonici, the earlier powers of metropolitans were significantly reduced. The archbishop had the right (1) to confirm and consecrate suffragan bishops; (2) to call and lead provincial synods; (3) to oversee the suffragans and visit their dioceses, as well as to censure and discipline bishops, although the right to remove them remained with the pope; (4) to act as a court of appeal from diocesan courts; (5) to exercise the jus devolutionis, meaning he could present candidates for positions in the gift of bishops if they neglected this duty. These rights were significantly limited by the Council of Trent. The confirmation and consecration of bishops (q.v.) is now reserved for the Holy See. The requirement to summon provincial synods every three years, established by the council, was often ignored but is now more frequent wherever the political conditions, such as in the United States, Great Britain, and France, are favorable. However, the archbishop's disciplinary powers have nearly vanished. The ability to visit a suffragan’s diocese or to impose censure was made contingent on the provincial synod's consent after valid reasons were presented, per Sess. xxiv. c. 3 de ref. from the Council of Trent; the only two remaining powers for the archbishop in this area are to oversee the diocesan seminaries and to ensure the bishop resides in his diocese. The archbishop's authority to enforce certain disciplinary actions over regular orders is held not as archbishop but as a representative ad hoc for the pope. Finally, although the archbishop can still function as a judge in appellate court, it's of little practical significance now that clergy are subject to civil courts in all matters.

Besides archbishops who are metropolitans there are in the Roman Catholic Church others who have no metropolitan jurisdiction. Such are the titular archbishops in partibus, and certain archbishops of Italian sees who have no bishops under them. Archbishops rank immediately after patriarchs and have the same precedence as primates. The right to wear the pallium is confined to those archbishops who are not merely titular. It must be applied for, either in person or by proxy, at Rome by the archbishop within three months of his consecration or enthronement, and, before receiving it, he must take the oaths of fidelity and obedience to the Holy See. Until the pallium is granted, the archbishop is known only as archbishop-elect, and is not empowered to exercise his potestas ordinis in the archdiocese nor to summon the provincial synod and exercise the jurisdiction dependent upon this. He may, however, exercise his purely episcopal functions. The special ensign of his office is the cross, crux erecta or gestatoria, carried before him on solemn occasions (see Cross).

Besides archbishops who are metropolitans, there are others in the Roman Catholic Church who don’t have metropolitan authority. These include titular archbishops *in partibus* and certain archbishops of Italian sees who oversee no bishops. Archbishops rank just after patriarchs and have the same precedence as primates. The right to wear the *pallium* is limited to archbishops who are not just titular. Archbishops must apply for it, either in person or by proxy, in Rome within three months of their consecration or enthronement, and before receiving it, they must take oaths of fidelity and obedience to the Holy See. Until the *pallium* is granted, the archbishop is referred to as archbishop-elect and cannot exercise his *potestas ordinis* in the archdiocese or summon the provincial synod to exercise the associated jurisdiction. However, he can perform his purely *episcopal* duties. The special symbol of his office is the cross, *crux erecta* or *gestatoria*, carried before him on formal occasions (see Cross).

In the Orthodox and other churches of the East the title of archbishop is of far more common occurrence than in the West, and is less consistently associated with metropolitan functions. Thus in Greece there are eleven archbishops Eastern Church. to thirteen bishops, the archbishop of Athens alone being metropolitan; in Cyprus, where there are four bishops and only one archbishop, all five are of metropolitan rank.

In the Orthodox and other Eastern churches, the title of archbishop is much more common than in the West and is not always linked to metropolitan duties. For instance, in Greece, there are eleven archbishops Eastern Orthodox Church. and thirteen bishops, with only the archbishop of Athens holding metropolitan status; in Cyprus, where there are four bishops and just one archbishop, all five hold metropolitan rank.

In the Protestant churches of continental Europe the title of archbishop has fallen into almost complete disuse. It is, however, still borne by the Lutheran bishop of Upsala, who is metropolitan of Sweden, and by the Lutheran bishop Lutheran Church. of Åbo in Finland. In Prussia the title has occasionally been bestowed by the king on general superintendents of the Lutheran church, as in 1829, when Frederick William III. gave it to his friend and spiritual adviser, the celebrated preacher, Ludwig Ernst Borowski (1740-1831), general superintendent of Prussia (1812) and bishop (1816).

In the Protestant churches of continental Europe, the title of archbishop has almost completely fallen out of use. However, it is still held by the Lutheran bishop of Upsala, who serves as the metropolitan of Sweden, and by the Lutheran bishop of Åbo in Finland. In Prussia, the title has sometimes been granted by the king to general superintendents of the Lutheran church, as happened in 1829 when Frederick William III gave it to his friend and spiritual advisor, the well-known preacher, Ludwig Ernst Borowski (1740-1831), who was the general superintendent of Prussia (1812) and a bishop (1816).

In the Church of England and its sister and daughter churches the position of the archbishop is defined by the medieval canon law as confirmed or modified by statute since the Reformation. It is, therefore, as regards both the potestas ordinis Church of England. and jurisdiction, substantially the same as in the Roman Catholic Church, save as modified on the one hand by the substitution of the supremacy of the crown for that of the Holy See, and on the other by the restrictions imposed by the council of Trent.

In the Church of England and its related churches, the role of the archbishop is outlined by medieval canon law, which has been confirmed or changed by legislation since the Reformation. Therefore, in terms of both the potestas ordinis Church of England and jurisdiction, it is largely similar to that in the Roman Catholic Church, except for the fact that the supremacy of the crown has replaced that of the Holy See, and there are also restrictions set by the Council of Trent.

The ecclesiastical government of the Church of England is divided between two archbishops—the archbishop of Canterbury, who is “primate of all England” and metropolitan of the province of Canterbury, and the archbishop of York, who is “primate of England” and metropolitan of the province of York. The jurisdiction of the archbishop of Canterbury as primate of all England extends in certain matters into the province of York. He exercised the jurisdiction of legatus natus of the pope throughout all England before the Reformation, and since that event he has been empowered, by 25 Hen. VIII. c. 21, to exercise certain powers of dispensation in cases formerly sued for in the court of Rome. Under this statute the archbishop continues to grant special licences to marry, which are valid in both provinces; he appoints notaries public, who may practise in both provinces; and he grants dispensations to clerks to hold more than one benefice, subject to certain restrictions which have been imposed by later statutes. The archbishop also continues to grant degrees in the faculties of theology, music and law, which are known as Lambeth degrees. His power to grant degrees in medicine, qualifying the recipients to practise, was practically restrained by the Medical Act 1858.

The governance of the Church of England is shared between two archbishops: the archbishop of Canterbury, who is the “primate of all England” and the metropolitan of the province of Canterbury, and the archbishop of York, who is the “primate of England” and the metropolitan of the province of York. The authority of the archbishop of Canterbury as the primate of all England extends into the province of York in certain matters. Before the Reformation, he exercised the jurisdiction of legatus natus of the pope throughout England, and since then, he has been granted the power, by 25 Hen. VIII. c. 21, to issue certain dispensations in cases that would have previously been brought before the court of Rome. Under this law, the archbishop continues to grant special licenses to marry, which are recognized in both provinces; he appoints notaries public who can operate in both provinces; and he grants dispensations to clergy to hold more than one benefice, subject to certain limitations set by later laws. The archbishop also still grants degrees in the fields of theology, music, and law, known as Lambeth degrees. His ability to issue degrees in medicine, allowing recipients to practice, was largely limited by the Medical Act of 1858.

The archbishop of Canterbury exercises the twofold jurisdiction of a metropolitan and a diocesan bishop. As metropolitan he is the guardian of the spiritualities of every vacant see within the province, he presents to all benefices which fall vacant during the vacancy of the see, and through his special commissary exercises the ordinary jurisdiction of a bishop within the vacant diocese. He exercises also an appellate jurisdiction over each bishop, which, in cases of licensed curates, he exercises personally under the Pluralities Act 1838; but his ordinary appellate jurisdiction is exercised by the judge of the Arches court (see Arches, Court of). The archbishop had formerly exclusive jurisdiction in all causes of wills and intestacies, where parties died having personal property in more than one diocese of the province of Canterbury, and he had concurrent jurisdiction in other cases. This jurisdiction, which he exercised through the judge of the Prerogative court, was transferred to the crown by the Court of Probate Act 1857. The Arches court was also the court of appeal from the consistory courts of the bishops of the province in all testamentary and matrimonial causes. The matrimonial jurisdiction was transferred to the crown by the Matrimonial Causes Act 1857. The court of Audience, in which the archbishop presided personally, attended by his vicar-general, and sometimes by episcopal assessors, has fallen into desuetude. The vicar-general, however, exercises jurisdiction in matters of ordinary marriage licences and of institutions to benefices. The master of the faculties regulates the appointment of notaries public, and all dispensations which fall under 25 Hen. VIII. c. 21.

The Archbishop of Canterbury has two main roles as both a metropolitan and a diocesan bishop. As a metropolitan, he oversees the spiritual matters of any vacant see in the province, presents candidates for all positions that become available during a vacancy, and, through his special delegate, carries out the usual responsibilities of a bishop in the vacant diocese. He also has the authority to appeal against decisions made by each bishop, which he personally handles in cases involving licensed curates under the Pluralities Act 1838; however, his regular appellate authority is managed by the judge of the Arches court (see Arches, Court of). Previously, the archbishop had sole authority in all matters concerning wills and intestacies when individuals passed away with personal property in more than one diocese within the province of Canterbury and shared authority in other scenarios. This jurisdiction, which he exercised through the judge of the Prerogative court, was transferred to the crown under the Court of Probate Act 1857. The Arches court also served as the appeals court from the diocesan courts of the bishops in all testamentary and matrimonial matters. The jurisdiction over marriage was transferred to the crown by the Matrimonial Causes Act 1857. The court of Audience, where the archbishop would personally preside, often with his vicar-general and sometimes with episcopal advisors, has since fallen out of use. However, the vicar-general does still have authority over ordinary marriage licenses and the appointment of benefices. The Master of the Faculties oversees the appointment of notaries public and manages all dispensations that fall under 25 Hen. VIII. c. 21.

A right very rarely exercised by the archbishop of Canterbury, but one of great importance, is that of the visitation and deprivation of inferior bishops. Since there is no example of the archbishop of York exercising or being reputed to have such disciplinary jurisdiction over his suffragans,2 and this right could, according to the canon law cited above, in the middle ages only be exercised normally in concert with the provincial synod, it would seem to be a survival of the special jurisdiction enjoyed by the pre-Reformation archbishop as legatus natus of the pope. It was somewhat freely exercised by Cranmer and his successors immediately after the Reformation; but the main precedent now relied upon is that of Dr Watson, bishop of St Davids, who was deprived in 1695 by Archbishop Tennison for simony and 358 other offences, the legality of the sentence being finally confirmed by the House of Lords on the 25th of January 1705. It was proved in the course of the long argument in this case that the archbishop of Canterbury had undoubtedly exercised such independent power of visitation both before and after the Reformation; and it was on this precedent that in 1888 the judicial committee of the privy council mainly relied in deciding that the archbishop had the right to cite before him the bishop of Lincoln (Dr Edward King), who was accused of certain irregular ritual practices. The trial began on the 12th of February 1889 before the archbishop and certain assessors, the protest of Dr King, based on the claim that he could only be tried in a provincial synod, being overruled by Archbishop Benson on the grounds above stated. The main importance of the “Lincoln Judgment,” delivered on the 21st of November 1890, is that it set a new precedent for the effective jurisdiction of the archbishop, based on the ancient canon law, and so did something towards the establishment of a purely “spiritual” court, the absence of which had been one of the main grievances of a large body of the clergy.

A right that the archbishop of Canterbury rarely uses, but is very important, is the ability to visit and remove lower-ranking bishops. Since there’s no record of the archbishop of York exercising or being thought to have such disciplinary authority over his bishops, and since this right could, according to the canon law mentioned earlier, usually only be enforced with the provincial synod in the Middle Ages, it appears to be a remnant of the special power held by the pre-Reformation archbishop as legatus natus of the pope. Cranmer and his successors used this right relatively freely right after the Reformation; however, the key precedent now cited is that of Dr. Watson, the bishop of St Davids, who was removed in 1695 by Archbishop Tennison for simony and other offenses, with the legality of the removal being confirmed by the House of Lords on January 25, 1705. During the lengthy discussions in this case, it was demonstrated that the archbishop of Canterbury had indeed exercised such independent visitation power both before and after the Reformation; this was the basis for the 1888 decision by the judicial committee of the privy council that the archbishop had the authority to summon the bishop of Lincoln (Dr. Edward King), who was accused of some irregular ritual practices. The trial started on February 12, 1889, before the archbishop and several assessors, and Dr. King’s objection, claiming he could only be tried in a provincial synod, was overruled by Archbishop Benson for the reasons previously stated. The key significance of the “Lincoln Judgment,” delivered on November 21, 1890, is that it established a new precedent for the archbishop's effective jurisdiction based on ancient canon law, thus contributing to the establishment of a purely “spiritual” court, addressing one of the primary complaints from a large segment of the clergy.

It is the privilege of the archbishop of Canterbury to crown the kings and queens of England. He is entitled to consecrate all the bishops within his province and was formerly entitled, upon consecrating a bishop, to select a benefice within his diocese at his option for one of his chaplains, but this practice was indirectly abolished by 3 and 4 Vict. c. III, § 42. He is entitled to nominate eight chaplains, who had formerly certain statutory privileges, which are now abolished. He is ex officio an ecclesiastical commissioner for England, and has by statute the right of nominating one of the salaried ecclesiastical commissioners.

It is the archbishop of Canterbury's privilege to crown the kings and queens of England. He has the right to consecrate all the bishops in his province and was previously allowed, upon consecrating a bishop, to choose a benefice within his diocese for one of his chaplains, but this practice was indirectly ended by 3 and 4 Vict. c. III, § 42. He has the authority to nominate eight chaplains, who used to have certain statutory privileges that are now abolished. He is ex officio an ecclesiastical commissioner for England and is legally entitled to nominate one of the paid ecclesiastical commissioners.

The archbishop exercises the ordinary jurisdiction of a bishop over his diocese through his consistory court at Canterbury, the judge of which court is styled the commissary-general of the city and diocese of Canterbury. The archbishop holds a visitation of his diocese personally every three years, and he is the only diocesan who has kept up the triennial visitation of the dean and chapter of his cathedral.3 The archbishop of Canterbury takes precedence immediately after princes of the blood royal and over every peer of parliament, including the lord chancellor.

The archbishop has the regular authority of a bishop over his diocese through his consistory court in Canterbury, which is presided over by the commissary-general of the city and diocese of Canterbury. The archbishop personally visits his diocese every three years, and he is the only diocesan who has maintained this three-year visitation of the dean and chapter of his cathedral.3 The archbishop of Canterbury ranks right after members of the royal family and ahead of every member of parliament, including the lord chancellor.

The archbishop of York has immediate spiritual jurisdiction as metropolitan in the case of all vacant sees within the province of York, analogous to that which is exercised by the archbishop of Canterbury within the province of Canterbury. He has also an appellate jurisdiction of an analogous character, which he exercises through his provincial court, whilst his diocesan jurisdiction is exercised through his consistorial court, the judges of both courts being nominated by the archbishop. His ancient testamentary and matrimonial jurisdiction was transferred to the crown by the same statutes which divested the see of Canterbury of its jurisdiction in similar matters. It is the privilege of the archbishop of York to crown the queen consort and to be her perpetual chaplain. The archbishop of York takes precedence over all subjects of the crown not of royal blood, but after the lord high chancellor of England. He is ex officio an ecclesiastical commissioner for England (see further England, Church of).

The Archbishop of York has immediate spiritual authority as the metropolitan for all vacant sees within the province of York, similar to the authority exercised by the Archbishop of Canterbury in the province of Canterbury. He also has appellate jurisdiction of a similar nature, which he exercises through his provincial court, while his diocesan authority is carried out through his consistorial court, with the judges of both courts appointed by the archbishop. His historical testamentary and matrimonial authority was transferred to the crown by the same statutes that removed the see of Canterbury's jurisdiction in similar matters. The Archbishop of York has the privilege to crown the queen consort and serve as her perpetual chaplain. The Archbishop of York ranks above all crown subjects who are not of royal blood, but below the Lord High Chancellor of England. He is also an ecclesiastical commissioner for England by virtue of his position (see further England, Church of).

The Church of Ireland had at the time of the Act of Union four archbishops, who took their titles from Armagh, Dublin, Cashel and Tuam. By acts of 1833 and 1834, the metropolitans of Cashel and of Tuam were reduced to the status of diocesan bishops. The two archbishoprics of Armagh and Dublin are maintained in the disestablished Church of Ireland.

The Church of Ireland, at the time of the Act of Union, had four archbishops who got their titles from Armagh, Dublin, Cashel, and Tuam. In 1833 and 1834, the metropolitans of Cashel and Tuam were downgraded to the status of diocesan bishops. The two archbishoprics of Armagh and Dublin continue to exist in the disestablished Church of Ireland.

The title archbishop has been used in certain of the colonial churches, e.g. Australia, South Africa, Canada, and the West Indies, since 1893, when it was assumed by the metropolitans of Canada and Rupert’s Land (see Anglican Communion). Archbishops have the title of His (or Your) Grace and Most Reverend Father in God.

The title archbishop has been used in some colonial churches, like Australia, South Africa, Canada, and the West Indies, since 1893, when it was taken on by the metropolitans of Canada and Rupert’s Land (see Anglican Communion). Archbishops are called His (or Your) Grace and Most Reverend Father in God.

See Hinschius, System des katholischen Kirchenrechts (Berlin, 1869), also article “Erzbischof,” in Hauck, Realencyklopadie (1898); Phillimore, The Ecclesiastical Law of the Church of England, and authorities there cited.

See Hinschius, System des katholischen Kirchenrechts (Berlin, 1869), also the article “Erzbischof,” in Hauck, Realencyklopadie (1898); Phillimore, The Ecclesiastical Law of the Church of England, and the authorities cited there.

(W. A. P.)

1 In the Roman Church it is safe to say that all metropolitans are archbishops. In, e.g., the Scottish and American episcopal churches, however, the metropolitan is the senior bishop pro tem.

1 In the Roman Church, it's fair to say that all metropolitans are archbishops. In, e.g., the Scottish and American episcopal churches, however, the metropolitan is the senior bishop pro tem.

2 Unless the case of the claim of Mark, bishop of Carlisle, to be tried by his ordinary instead of by a temporal court, be a precedent (Phillimore, Eccles. Law, p. 74, ed. 1895).

2 Unless Mark, the bishop of Carlisle, being able to have his case heard by his church court instead of a civil court, sets a precedent (Phillimore, Eccles. Law, p. 74, ed. 1895).

3 The court of Peculiars is no longer held, inasmuch as the peculiars have been placed by acts of parliament under the ordinary jurisdiction of the bishops of the respective dioceses in which they are situated.

3 The court of Peculiars is no longer in session, as the peculiars have been placed by acts of parliament under the regular authority of the bishops in the respective dioceses where they are located.


ARCHCHANCELLOR (Lat. Archicancellarius; Ger. Erzkanzler), or chief chancellor, a title given to the highest dignitary of the Holy Roman Empire, and also used occasionally during the middle ages to denote an official who supervised the work of chancellors or notaries.

ARCHCHANCELLOR (Lat. Archicancellarius; Ger. Erzkanzler), or chief chancellor, is a title for the highest official in the Holy Roman Empire, and it was also sometimes used in the Middle Ages to refer to an official who oversaw the work of chancellors or notaries.

In the 9th century Hincmar, archbishop of Reims, in his work, De ordine palatii et regni, speaks of a summus cancellarius, evidently an official at the court of the Carolingian emperors and kings. A charter of the emperor Lothair I. dated 844 refers to Agilmar, archbishop of Vienne, as archchancellor, and there are several other references to archchancellors in various chronicles. This office existed in the German kingdom of Otto the Great, and about this time it appears to have become an appanage of the archbishopric of Mainz. When the Empire was restored by Otto in 962, a separate chancery seems to have been organized for Italian affairs, and early in the 11th century the office of archchancellor for the kingdom of Italy was in the hands of the archbishop of Cologne. The theory was that all the imperial business in Germany was supervised by the elector of Mainz, and for Italy by the elector of Cologne. However, the duties of archchancellor for Italy were generally discharged by deputy, and after the virtual separation of Italy and Germany, the title alone was retained by the elector. When the kingdom of Burgundy or Arles was acquired by the emperor Conrad II. in 1032 it is possible that a separate chancery was established for this kingdom. However this may be, during the 12th century the elector of Trier took the title of archchancellor for the kingdom of Arles, although it is doubtful if he ever performed any duties in connexion with this office. This threefold division of the office of imperial archchancellor was acknowledged in 1356 by the Golden Bull of the emperor Charles IV., but the duties of the office were performed by the elector of Mainz. The office in this form was part of the constitution of the Empire until 1803 when the archbishopric of Mainz was secularized. The last elector, Karl Theodor von Dalberg, however, retained the title of archchancellor until the dissolution of the Empire in 1806. H. Reincke in Der alte Reichstag und der neue Bundesrat (Tübingen, 1906) points out a marked resemblance between the medieval archchancellor and the German imperial chancellor of the present day.

In the 9th century, Hincmar, the archbishop of Reims, in his work, De ordine palatii et regni, talks about a summus cancellarius, clearly an official at the court of the Carolingian emperors and kings. An 844 charter from Emperor Lothair I refers to Agilmar, the archbishop of Vienne, as archchancellor, and there are several other mentions of archchancellors in various chronicles. This role existed in the German kingdom under Otto the Great, and around this time, it seems to have become associated with the archbishopric of Mainz. When Otto restored the Empire in 962, a separate chancery appears to have been set up for Italian affairs, and by the early 11th century, the office of archchancellor for the kingdom of Italy was held by the archbishop of Cologne. The idea was that the elector of Mainz supervised all imperial business in Germany, while the elector of Cologne did the same for Italy. However, the responsibilities of the archchancellor for Italy were usually handled by a deputy, and after Italy and Germany effectively split, the title was kept by the elector alone. When Emperor Conrad II. acquired the kingdom of Burgundy or Arles in 1032, a separate chancery for this kingdom might have been created. Regardless, during the 12th century, the elector of Trier took on the title of archchancellor for the kingdom of Arles, although it's uncertain if he ever actually undertook any duties related to this title. This threefold division of the imperial archchancellor office was recognized in 1356 by the Golden Bull of Emperor Charles IV., but the elector of Mainz performed the office's duties. This structure remained part of the Empire’s constitution until 1803, when the archbishopric of Mainz was secularized. The last elector, Karl Theodor von Dalberg, however, kept the title of archchancellor until the Empire was dissolved in 1806. H. Reincke in Der alte Reichstag und der neue Bundesrat (Tübingen, 1906) points out a noticeable similarity between the medieval archchancellor and the modern German imperial chancellor.

See du Cange, Glossarium, s. “Archicancellarius”; and Chancellor.

See du Cange, Glossarium, s. “Archicancellarius”; and Chancellor.


ARCHDEACON (Lat. archidiaconus, Gr. ἀρχιδιάκονος), a high official of the Christian Church. The office of archdeacon is of great antiquity. So early as the 4th century it is mentioned as an established office, and it is probable that it was in existence in the 3rd. Originally the archdeacon was, as the name implies, the chief of the deacons attached to the bishop’s cathedral, his duty being, besides preaching, to supervise the deacons and their work, i.e. more especially the care of the sick and the arrangement of the externals of divine worship. Even thus early their close relation to the bishop and their employment in matters of episcopal administration gave them, though only in deacons’ orders, great importance, which continually developed. In the East, in the 5th century, the archdeacons were already charged with the proof of the qualifications of candidates for ordination; they attended the bishops at ecclesiastical synods, and sometimes acted as their representatives; they shared in the administration of sees during a vacancy. In the West, in the 6th and 7th centuries, besides the original functions of their office, archdeacons had certain well-defined rights of visitation and supervision, being responsible for the good order of the lower clergy, the upkeep of ecclesiastical buildings and the safe-guarding of the church furniture—functions which involved a considerable disciplinary power. During the 8th and 9th centuries the office tended to become more and more exclusively purely administrative, 359 the archdeacon by his visitations relieving the bishop of the minutiae of government and keeping him informed in detail of the condition of his diocese. The archdeacon had thus become, on the one hand, the oculus episcopi, but on the other hand, armed as he was with powers of imposing penance and, in case of stubborn disobedience, of excommunicating offenders, his power tended more and more to grow at the bishop’s expense. This process received a great impulse from the erection in the 11th and 12th centuries of defined territorial jurisdictions for the archdeacons, who had hitherto been itinerant representatives of the central power of the diocese. The dioceses were now mapped out into several archdeaconries (archidiaconatus), which corresponded with the political divisions of the countries; and these defined spheres, in accordance with the prevailing feudal tendencies of the age, gradually came to be regarded as independent centres of jurisdiction.1 The bishops, now increasingly absorbed in secular affairs, were content with a somewhat theoretical power of control, while the archdeacons rigorously asserted an independent position which implied great power and possibilities of wealth. The custom, moreover, had grown up of bestowing the coveted office of archdeacon on the provosts, deans and canons of the cathedral churches, and the archdeacons were thus involved in the struggle of the chapters against the episcopal authority. By the 12th century the archdeacon had become practically independent of the bishop, whose consent was only required in certain specified cases.

ARCHDEACON (Lat. archidiaconus, Gr. chief deacon), a senior official in the Christian Church. The role of archdeacon is very old. It was noted as an established position as early as the 4th century, and it likely existed in the 3rd century as well. At first, the archdeacon was, as the name suggests, the head of the deacons connected to the bishop’s cathedral, tasked with preaching and overseeing the deacons and their duties, particularly caring for the sick and organizing the outward aspects of worship. Even at this early stage, their close association with the bishop and involvement in church administration gave them significant importance, which only grew over time. In the East, by the 5th century, archdeacons were already responsible for verifying the qualifications of those seeking ordination; they accompanied bishops to church synods and sometimes acted on their behalf; they also participated in managing sees during vacancies. In the West, during the 6th and 7th centuries, in addition to their original responsibilities, archdeacons gained specific rights for visitation and supervision, being accountable for the conduct of the lower clergy, maintenance of church buildings, and protection of church property—roles that came with considerable disciplinary authority. During the 8th and 9th centuries, the office became increasingly administrative, with archdeacons taking care of the finer details of governance and keeping bishops informed about the state of their dioceses. Thus, the archdeacon became, on one hand, the oculus episcopi, but on the other hand, equipped with the power to impose penalties and, in cases of persistent disobedience, excommunicate offenders, their authority began to grow at the expense of the bishops. This trend was greatly accelerated by the establishment of defined territorial jurisdictions for archdeacons in the 11th and 12th centuries; previously, they had been itinerant representatives of the central diocesan authority. The dioceses were now divided into multiple archdeaconries (archidiaconatus), aligning with the political boundaries of the regions; and these designated areas, reflecting the feudal tendencies of the time, gradually came to be seen as independent centers of authority. The bishops, increasingly preoccupied with secular matters, were satisfied with a somewhat theoretical control, while the archdeacons firmly claimed an independent stance that suggested substantial power and potential wealth. Additionally, the practice of appointing provosts, deans, and canons from cathedral churches to the coveted position of archdeacon became common, further entangling them in the struggles of chapters against episcopal authority. By the 12th century, archdeacons had become largely autonomous from the bishops, whose approval was only necessary in certain specific situations.

The power of the archdeacon reached its zenith at the outset of the 13th century. Innocent III. describes him as judex ordinarius, and he possesses in his own right the powers of visitation, of holding courts and imposing penalties, of deciding in matrimonial causes and cases of disputed jurisdiction, of testing candidates for orders, of inducting into benefices. He has the right to certain procurations, and to appoint and depose archpriests and rural deans. And these powers he may exercise through delegated officiales. His jurisdiction has become, in fact, not subordinate to, but co-ordinate with that of the bishop. Yet, so far as orders were concerned, he remained a deacon; and if archdeacons were often priests, this was because priests who were members of chapters were appointed to the office.

The power of the archdeacon peaked at the beginning of the 13th century. Innocent III refers to him as judex ordinarius, and he has the authority to conduct visitations, hold courts, impose penalties, make decisions in marriage cases and disputes over jurisdiction, evaluate candidates for religious orders, and induct into positions of benefice. He has the right to certain fees and to appoint or remove archpriests and rural deans. He can exercise these powers through delegated officiales. His jurisdiction has actually become not subordinate to but equal to that of the bishop. However, when it comes to orders, he remained a deacon; and if archdeacons were often priests, it was because priests who were part of chapters were appointed to the position.

From the 13th century onward a reaction set in. The power of the archdeacons rested upon custom and prescription, not upon the canon law; and though the bishops could not break, they could circumvent it. This they did by appointing new officials to exercise in their name the rights still reserved to them, or to which they laid claim. These were the officiales: the officiales foranei, whose jurisdiction was parallel with that of the archdeacons, and the officiales principales and vicars-general, who presided over the courts of appeal. The clergy having thus another authority, and one moreover more canonical, to appeal to, the power of the archdeacons gradually declined; and, so far as the Roman Catholic Church is concerned, it received its death-blow from the council of Trent (1564), which withdrew all matrimonial and criminal causes from the competence of the archdeacons, forbade them to pronounce excommunications, and allowed them only to hold visitations in connexion with those of the bishop and with his consent. These decrees were not, indeed, at once universally enforced; but the convulsions of the Revolutionary epoch and the religious reorganization that followed completed the work. In the Roman Church to-day the office of archdeacon is merely titular, his sole function being to present the candidates for ordination to the bishop. The title, indeed, hardly exists save in Italy, where the archdeacon is no more than a dignified member of a chapter, who takes rank after the bishop. The ancient functions of the archdeacon are exercised by the vicar-general. In the Lutheran church the title Archidiakonus is given in some places to the senior assistant pastor of a church.

From the 13th century onward, a reaction began to take shape. The power of the archdeacons was based on custom and established practices, not on canon law; and while the bishops couldn't break it, they found ways around it. They did this by appointing new officials to exercise rights still reserved for them or claimed by them. These were the officiales: the officiales foranei, who had jurisdiction parallel to that of the archdeacons, and the officiales principales and vicars-general, who presided over appeal courts. With the clergy having another authority to appeal to—one that was more canonical—the power of the archdeacons declined gradually. As far as the Roman Catholic Church is concerned, it received a significant blow from the Council of Trent (1564), which removed all matrimonial and criminal cases from the archdeacons' jurisdiction, prohibited them from pronouncing excommunications, and allowed them only to conduct visitations in conjunction with the bishop's and with his consent. These decrees were not immediately enforced everywhere, but the upheavals of the Revolutionary era and the subsequent religious restructuring completed the process. In the Roman Church today, the archdeacon's role is largely ceremonial, with the only function being to present candidates for ordination to the bishop. The title is mostly found only in Italy, where the archdeacon is just a dignified member of a chapter, ranking after the bishop. The former responsibilities of the archdeacon are now fulfilled by the vicar-general. In the Lutheran Church, the title Archidiakonus is sometimes given to the senior assistant pastor of a church.

In the Church of England, on the other hand, the office of archdeacon, which was first introduced at the Norman conquest, survives, with many of its ancient duties and prerogatives. Since 1836 there have been at least two archdeaconries in each diocese, and in some dioceses there are four archdeacons. The archdeacons are appointed by their respective bishops, and they are, by an act of 1840, required to have been six full years in priest’s orders. The functions of the archdeacon are in the present day ancillary in a general way to those of the bishop of the diocese. It is his especial duty to inspect the churches within his archdeaconry, to see that the fabrics are kept in repair, and to hold annual visitations of the clergy and churchwardens of each parish, for the purpose of ascertaining that the clergy are in residence, of admitting the newly elected churchwardens into office, and of receiving the presentments of the outgoing churchwardens. It is his privilege to present all candidates for ordination to the bishop of the diocese. It is his duty also to induct the clergy of his archdeaconry into the temporalities of their benefices after they have been instituted into the spiritualities by the bishop or his vicar-general. Every archdeacon is entitled to appoint an official to preside over his archidiaconal court, from which there is an appeal to the consistory court of the bishop. The archdeacons are ex officio members of the convocations of their respective provinces.

In the Church of England, however, the role of archdeacon, which was first established during the Norman conquest, continues to exist, retaining many of its traditional duties and privileges. Since 1836, each diocese has had at least two archdeaconries, and in some dioceses, there are four archdeacons. The archdeacons are appointed by their respective bishops, and according to an act from 1840, they must have been in priest’s orders for at least six full years. Nowadays, the archdeacon's functions generally support the bishop of the diocese. It is particularly his responsibility to inspect the churches within his archdeaconry, ensure that the buildings are maintained, and conduct annual visits with the clergy and churchwardens of each parish. This is to check that the clergy are residing, to formally admit the newly elected churchwardens into their roles, and to receive reports from the outgoing churchwardens. He has the right to recommend all candidates for ordination to the bishop of the diocese. Additionally, he is responsible for inducting the clergy of his archdeaconry into their benefices' temporalities after they have been instituted into the spiritual aspects by the bishop or his vicar-general. Each archdeacon can appoint an official to lead his archidiaconal court, to which there is an appeal to the bishop's consistory court. Archdeacons are also ex officio members of the convocations in their respective provinces.

It is the privilege of the archdeacon of Canterbury to induct the archbishop and all the bishops of the province of Canterbury into their respective bishoprics, and this he does in the case of a bishop under a mandate from the archbishop of Canterbury, directing him to induct the bishop into the real, actual, and corporal possession of the bishopric, and to install and to enthrone him; and in the case of the archbishop, under an analogous mandate from the dean and chapter of Canterbury, as being guardians of the spiritualities during the vacancy of the archiepiscopal see. In the colonies there are two or more archdeacons in each diocese, and their functions correspond to those of English archdeacons. In the Episcopal church of America the office of archdeacon exists in only one or two dioceses.

It is the privilege of the archdeacon of Canterbury to officially induct the archbishop and all the bishops of the Canterbury province into their respective bishoprics. He does this for a bishop under a mandate from the archbishop of Canterbury, directing him to formally install and enthrone the bishop into the actual possession of the bishopric. In the case of the archbishop, this occurs under a similar mandate from the dean and chapter of Canterbury, who act as guardians of the spiritual leadership during the vacancy of the archiepiscopal see. In the colonies, there are two or more archdeacons in each diocese, and their roles are similar to those of English archdeacons. In the Episcopal Church of America, the office of archdeacon exists in only one or two dioceses.

See Hinschius, Kirchenrecht, ii., §§ 86. 87; Schröder, Die Entwicklung des Archdiakonats bis zum 11. Jahrhundert (Munich, 1890); Wetzer and Welte, Kirchenlexikon (Freiburg-im-Breisgau, 1882-1901); Herzog-Hauck, Realencyklopadie (ed. 1896); Phillimore, Ecclesiastical Law, part ii. chap. v. (London, 1895).

See Hinschius, Church Law, ii., §§ 86. 87; Schröder, The Development of the Archdiaconate up to the 11th Century (Munich, 1890); Wetzer and Welte, Church Encyclopedia (Freiburg-im-Breisgau, 1882-1901); Herzog-Hauck, Real Encyclopedia (ed. 1896); Phillimore, Ecclesiastical Law, part ii. chap. v. (London, 1895).

(W. A. P.)

1 Archdeaconries were, indeed, sometimes treated as ordinary fiefs and were held as such by laymen. Thus Ordericus Vitalis says that “(Fulk) granted to the monks the archdeaconry which he and his predecessors held in fee of the archbishop of Rouen” (Hist. Eccl. iii. 12).

1 Archdeaconries were often treated like regular fiefs and were held by laypeople. As Ordericus Vitalis notes, “(Fulk) granted to the monks the archdeaconry that he and his predecessors held as a fee from the archbishop of Rouen” (Hist. Eccl. iii. 12).


ARCHDUKE (Lat. archidux, Ger. Erzherzog,) a title peculiar now to the Austrian royal family. According to Selden it denotes “an excellency or pre-eminence only, not a superiority or power over other dukes, as in archbishop it doth over other bishops.” Yet in this latter sense it would seem to have been assumed by Bruno of Saxony, archbishop of Cologne, and duke of Lorraine (953-965), when he divided his duchy into the dukedoms of Upper and Lower Lorraine. The designation was, however, exceedingly rare during the middle ages. The title of archduke of Lorraine ceased with the circumstances which had produced it. The later dynasties of Brabant and Lorraine, when these fiefs became hereditary, bore only the title of duke. The house of Habsburg, therefore, did not acquire this title with the inheritance of the dukes of Lorraine. Nor does it occur in any of the charters granted to the dukes of Austria by the emperors; though in that creating the first duke of Austria the archiduces palatii, i.e. the principal dukes of the court, are mentioned. The “Archidux Austriae, seu Austriae inferioris” is spoken of by Abbot Rudolph (d. 1138) in his chronicles of the abbey of St Trond (Gesta Abbatum Trudonensium) but this is no more than a rhetorical flourish, and the title of “archduke palatine” (Pfalz-Erzherzog) was, in fact, assumed first by Duke Rudolph IV. (d. 1365), and was one of the rights and privileges included in his famous forgery of the year 1358, the privilegium maius, which purported to have been bestowed by the emperor Frederick I. on the dukes of Austria in extension of the genuine privilegium minus of 1156, granted to the margrave Henry II. Rudolph IV. used the title on his seals and charters till he was compelled to desist by the emperor Charles IV. The title was also assumed for a time, probably on the strength of the privilegium maius, by Duke Ernest of Styria (d. 1424); but it 360 did not legally belong to the house of Habsburg until 1453, when Duke Ernest’s son, the emperor Frederick III. (Frederick V., duke of Styria and Carinthia, 1424-1493, of Austria, 1463-1493), confirmed the privilegium maius and conferred the title of archduke of Austria on his son Maximilian and his heirs. The title archduke (or archduchess) is now borne by all members of the Austrian imperial house.

ARCHDUKE (Lat. archidux, Ger. Erzherzog) is a title now unique to the Austrian royal family. According to Selden, it signifies “an excellence or a prominence only, not a superiority or power over other dukes, as in archbishop it does over other bishops.” However, in this latter sense, it seems to have been adopted by Bruno of Saxony, the archbishop of Cologne and duke of Lorraine (953-965), when he split his duchy into Upper and Lower Lorraine. The title was quite rare during the Middle Ages. The title of archduke of Lorraine faded with the circumstances that created it. The later dynasties of Brabant and Lorraine, once these lands became hereditary, only held the title of duke. Therefore, the house of Habsburg did not inherit this title with the dukes of Lorraine. It also does not appear in any of the charters granted to the dukes of Austria by the emperors; although in the charter that created the first duke of Austria, the archiduces palatii, i.e. the leading dukes of the court, are mentioned. The term “Archidux Austriae, seu Austriae inferioris” is mentioned by Abbot Rudolph (d. 1138) in his chronicles of the abbey of St Trond (Gesta Abbatum Trudonensium), but this is merely a rhetorical flourish. The title “archduke palatine” (Pfalz-Erzherzog) was first adopted by Duke Rudolph IV. (d. 1365) and was one of the rights and privileges included in his famous forgery of 1358, the privilegium maius, which claimed to have been granted by Emperor Frederick I. to the dukes of Austria as an extension of the genuine privilegium minus of 1156, granted to Margrave Henry II. Rudolph IV. used the title on his seals and charters until he was forced to stop by Emperor Charles IV. The title was also claimed for a time, presumably based on the privilegium maius, by Duke Ernest of Styria (d. 1424); but it did not legally belong to the house of Habsburg until 1453, when Duke Ernest’s son, Emperor Frederick III. (Frederick V., duke of Styria and Carinthia, 1424-1493, of Austria, 1463-1493), confirmed the privilegium maius and granted the title of archduke of Austria to his son Maximilian and his heirs. The title of archduke (or archduchess) is now held by all members of the Austrian imperial house.

See John Selden, Titles of Honor (1672); Antonius Matthaeus, De nobilititate, de principibus, deducibus, &c., libriquatuor (Amsterdam and Leiden, 1696, lib. i. cap. 6); Pfeffel, Abrégé chronologique de l’hist, el du droit public d’Allemagne (Paris, 1766); Brinckmeier, Glossarium diplomaticum, &c. (1850-1863, 2 vols.); J.F. Joachim, “Abhandlung von dem Titel ‘Erzherzog,’ welchen das Haus Oesterreich fuhrt.” in Prufende Gesellschaft zu Halle, 7; F. Wachter, art. “Erzherzog,” in Allgem. Encykl. der Wissenschiften u. Kunste (1842, pub. by Ersch and Gruber); A. Huber, Ueber die Entstehungszeit der oesterreichischen Freiheitsbriefe (Vienna, 1860); W. Erben, Das Privilegium Friedrichs I. für das Herzogtum Österreich (Vienna, 1902).

See John Selden, Titles of Honor (1672); Antonius Matthaeus, On Nobility, Princes, Dukes, etc., Four Books (Amsterdam and Leiden, 1696, book i, chapter 6); Pfeffel, Chronological Summary of the History and Public Law of Germany (Paris, 1766); Brinckmeier, Diplomatic Glossary, etc. (1850-1863, 2 vols.); J.F. Joachim, “Treatise on the Title ‘Archduke,’ used by the House of Austria” in Prufende Gesellschaft zu Halle, 7; F. Wachter, article “Archduke,” in General Encyclopedia of Sciences and Arts (1842, published by Ersch and Gruber); A. Huber, On the Origin of Austrian Freedom Charters (Vienna, 1860); W. Erben, The Privilege of Frederick I. for the Duchy of Austria (Vienna, 1902).


ARCHEAN SYSTEM (from ἀρχή, beginning), in geology. Below the lowest distinctly fossiliferous strata, that is, below those Cambrian rocks which bear the Olenellus fauna, there lies a great mass of stratified, metamorphic and igneous rock, to which the non-committal epithet “pre-Cambrian” is often applied; and indeed in not a few instances this general term is sufficiently precise for the present state of our knowledge. Nevertheless there are large tracts, both in the Old World and in the New, in which a subdivision of this assemblage of ancient rocks is not only possible but desirable. It is quite clear in certain regions that there is a lowermost group with a prevailing granitoid, gneissic and schistose facies, mainly of igneous origin, above which there are one or several groups bearing a distinctly sedimentary aspect. It is to this lowermost gneissic group that the term “Archean” may be conveniently limited.

ARCHEAN SYSTEM (from beginning, beginning), in geology. Below the lowest layers that contain distinct fossils, specifically the Cambrian rocks with the Olenellus fauna, there is a large mass of layered, metamorphic, and igneous rock, often referred to as “pre-Cambrian.” In many instances, this broad term is sufficiently accurate based on what we know so far. However, there are extensive areas in both the Old World and the New where it is not only possible but necessary to subdivide this collection of ancient rocks. In certain regions, it is evident that there is a bottom layer primarily composed of granitoid, gneiss, and schist rocks, mostly of igneous origin, with one or more layers above that show a clear sedimentary character. It's to this lowest gneissic group that the term “Archean” can be appropriately applied.

Thus, while the name “pre-Cambrian” may be used to indicate all these very old rocks whenever there is still any difficulty in subdividing them further, it is an advantage to have a special appellation for the oldest group where this can be distinguished.

Thus, while the term “pre-Cambrian” can be used to refer to all these very ancient rocks when it's still challenging to divide them further, it’s helpful to have a specific name for the oldest group where this distinction can be made.

It must be pointed out that the term “Archean” has been used as a synonym for pre-Cambrian; and that the expressions Azoic (from α-, privative; ζωή, life), Eozoic (from ἠὠς, dawn), and Fundamental Complex, have been employed in somewhat the same sense. Archeozoic has been proposed by American writers to apply to the lowest pre-Cambrian rocks with the same significance as “Archean” in the restricted sense employed here; but it is perhaps safer to avoid any reference to the supposed stage of life development where all direct evidence is non-existent. The so-called “Azoic” rocks have already been made to yield evidence of life, and there is no reason to presuppose the impossibility of finding other records of still earlier organisms.

It should be noted that the term “Archean” has been used interchangeably with pre-Cambrian; and that the terms Azoic (from α-, meaning without; life, life), Eozoic (from Dawn, dawn), and Fundamental Complex, have been used in a similar way. Archeozoic has been suggested by American authors to refer to the lowest pre-Cambrian rocks with the same meaning as “Archean” as used here; but it might be wiser to steer clear of any reference to the supposed stage of life development where all direct evidence is absent. The so-called “Azoic” rocks have already shown signs of life, and there’s no reason to assume it’s impossible to find other evidence of even earlier organisms.

The prevailing rocks of the Archean system are igneous, with metamorphosed varieties of the same; sedimentary rocks, distinctly recognizable as such, are scarce, though highly metamorphosed rocks supposed to be sediments, in some regions, take an important place.

The main rocks from the Archean era are igneous, along with metamorphosed versions of the same. Sedimentary rocks, which can be clearly identified, are rare, although highly metamorphosed rocks believed to be sediments play a significant role in some areas.

There are several features which are peculiarly characteristic of the Archean rocks:—(1) the extraordinary complexity of the assemblage of igneous materials; (2) the extreme metamorphism and deformation which nearly all the rocks have suffered; and (3) the inextricable intermixture of igneous rocks with those for which a sedimentary origin is postulated. Wherever the Archean rocks have been closely examined two great groups of rocks are distinguishable, an older, schistose group and a younger, granitoid and gneissic group. For many years the latter was supposed to be the older, hence the epithets “primitive” or “fundamental” were applied to it. Now, however, it has been shown, both in Europe and in North America, that in certain regions a schistose series is penetrated by a gneissose series and when this occurs the schists must be the older. But bearing in mind the difficulties of interpretation, it is not at all unreasonable to assume that there may yet be regions where the gneissose rocks are the oldest; for where no schistose series is present there may be no criterion for estimating the age of the granites and gneisses. The exceedingly great difficulties which lie in the way of every attempt to unravel the history of an Archean rock-complex cannot be too forcibly emphasized; for to be able to demonstrate the order of events and succession of rocks we should at least know whether we are dealing with sediments, flows of volcanic material, or intrusions, yet in many instances this cannot be done. In some areas the gradual passage of highly foliated and metamorphosed schists may be traced into comparatively unaltered arkoses, greywackes, conglomerates; or into volcanic lava-flows, pyro-clastic rocks or dikes; or again through a gneissose rock into a granite or a gabbro; but the districts wherein these relationships have been thoroughly worked out are very few.

There are several features that are uniquely characteristic of the Archean rocks: (1) the incredible complexity of the mix of igneous materials; (2) the extreme metamorphism and deformation that almost all the rocks have undergone; and (3) the complex blending of igneous rocks with those believed to have a sedimentary origin. Wherever Archean rocks have been closely studied, two main groups of rocks can be identified: an older schistose group and a younger granitoid and gneissic group. For many years, the latter was thought to be the older, which is why it was referred to as “primitive” or “fundamental.” However, it has now been shown, in both Europe and North America, that in certain areas a schistose series is penetrated by a gneissose series, indicating that the schists must be older. That said, it is reasonable to believe that there may still be areas where the gneissose rocks are the oldest; because where no schistose series is found, there may be no way to determine the age of the granites and gneisses. The considerable challenges in trying to unravel the history of an Archean rock complex cannot be overstated; to demonstrate the order of events and the succession of rocks, we need to know whether we're dealing with sediments, volcanic flows, or intrusions, but often this isn’t possible. In some areas, the gradual transition from highly foliated and metamorphosed schists can be traced into relatively unaltered arkoses, greywackes, and conglomerates; or into volcanic lava flows, pyroclastic rocks, or dikes; or even through a gneissose rock into a granite or gabbro; however, the regions where these relationships have been thoroughly studied are very few.

This much may be said, that where the Archean system has been most carefully studied, there appears to be (1) a schistose series, of itself by no means simple but containing the foliated equivalents of sedimentary and igneous rocks; into this series a gneissose group (2) has been intruded in the form of batholites, great sheets and sills with accompanying intrusional prolongations into the schists; subsequently, into the gneisses and schists, after they had been further deformed, sheared and foliated, another set (3) of dikes or thin sheet-like intrusions penetrated. All this, namely, the formation of sediments, the outpouring of volcanic rocks, their repeated deformation by powerful dynamic agencies and then their penetration by dikes and sheets had been completed and erosion had been at work upon the hardened and exposed rocks, before the earliest pre-Cambrian sediment was deposited.

This much can be said: in areas where the Archean system has been studied in detail, there seems to be (1) a schistose series, which is complex in its own right but includes the layered equivalents of sedimentary and igneous rocks; within this series, a gneissose group (2) has been intruded as batholiths, large sheets, and sills, along with additional intrusions extending into the schists; later, after the gneisses and schists were further deformed, sheared, and foliated, another set (3) of dikes or thin sheet-like intrusions broke through. All of this—the formation of sediments, the eruption of volcanic rocks, their repeated deformation by strong dynamic forces, and then their invasion by dikes and sheets—had occurred and erosion had taken place on the hardened and exposed rocks before the earliest pre-Cambrian sediment was laid down.

There has been much premature speculation as to the nature and origin of these very ancient rocks. The prevalence of regular foliation with layers of different mineral composition, producing a close resemblance to bedding, has led some to imagine that the gneisses and schists were themselves the product of the primeval oceans, a supposition that is no longer worthy of further discussion. Others have supposed that the gneisses were largely produced by the resorption and fusion of older sediments in the molten interior of the earth; there is no evidence that this has taken place upon an extended scale, though there is reason to believe that something of this kind has happened in places, and there is in the hypothesis nothing radically untenable. In one way the sedimentary schists have undoubtedly been incorporated within the gneissose mass, namely, by the extremely thorough and intimate penetration of the former by the latter along planes of foliation; and when a complex mass such as this has been further sheared and metamorphosed, a uniform gneiss appears to result from the intermixture.

There has been a lot of premature speculation about the nature and origin of these very old rocks. The common occurrence of regular layering with different mineral compositions, which closely resembles bedding, has led some to imagine that the gneisses and schists were products of the ancient oceans, a guess that is no longer worth discussing. Others have suggested that the gneisses were mainly formed by the resorption and fusion of older sediments in the molten interior of the Earth; while there's no evidence that this happened on a large scale, it seems likely that something like this occurred in some areas, and the hypothesis isn't fundamentally unsound. In one way, the sedimentary schists have undoubtedly been incorporated into the gneissose mass, specifically through the thorough and intimate penetration of the former by the latter along foliation planes; when a complex mass like this has been further sheared and metamorphosed, a uniform gneiss seems to emerge from the mixture.

A not uncommon cause of the apparently bedded arrangement of layers of different mineralogical composition may be traced to the original differentiation of the granitoid magma into different mineral-sheets. When these mineralogically 361 different layers were forced into other rocks, sometimes before the complete consolidation of the former and sometimes subsequent to it, in the generally metamorphosed condition of the whole, it is easy to see a superficial resemblance to bedding.

A fairly common reason for the layered appearance of rocks with different mineral compositions can be linked to the original differentiation of the granitoid magma into various mineral sheets. When these mineral layers, which have distinct compositions, were pushed into other rocks—sometimes before they fully solidified and sometimes afterward—it's easy to observe a superficial resemblance to bedding in the overall metamorphosed state of the whole. 361

The Archean rocks have frequently been spoken of as the original crust of the earth; but even granting a cooling molten globe with a first-formed stony surface, it is tolerably clear that such a crust has nowhere yet been found, nor is it ever likely to be discovered. The very earliest recognizable sediments are the result of the destruction of still earlier exposures of rock; the oldest known volcanic rocks were poured upon a surface we can no longer distinguish, and as for the great granitoid masses, they could only have been formed under the pressure of superincumbent masses of material. The earliest known sediments must have been deep in the zones of shearing and rock flowage before the first pre-Cambrian denudation. The time required for these changes is difficult to conceive.

The Archean rocks are often referred to as the original crust of the Earth; however, even if we consider a cooling molten globe with a newly formed rocky surface, it’s pretty clear that such a crust hasn’t been found anywhere, and it’s unlikely that it ever will be. The earliest recognizable sediments come from the erosion of even older rock formations; the oldest known volcanic rocks were deposited on a surface that we can no longer identify, and as for the large granitoid formations, they could only have formed under the weight of layers of material above them. The earliest known sediments must have existed deep within the zones of shearing and rock flow before the first denudation in the pre-Cambrian period. The amount of time needed for these changes is hard to imagine.

As regards the life of the Archean, or, as some call it, the “Archeozoic” period, we know nothing. The presence of carbonaceous shale and graphitic schists as well as of the altered sedimentary iron ores has been taken as indicative of vegetable life. Similarly, the occurrence of limestones suggests the existence of organic activity, but direct evidence is wanting. Much interest naturally attaches to this remote period, and when Sir William E. Logan in 1854 found the foraminifera-like Eozoon Canadense, high hopes of further discoveries were entertained, but the inorganic nature of this structure has since been clearly proved.

As for the Archean period, also known as the “Archeozoic” period, we really don’t know much. The presence of carbon-rich shale and graphitic schists, along with modified sedimentary iron ores, has been seen as a sign of plant life. Likewise, the discovery of limestone suggests some form of organic activity, but there’s no direct evidence to support this. This ancient period naturally sparks a lot of interest, and when Sir William E. Logan found the foraminifera-like Eozoon Canadense in 1854, there were high hopes for more discoveries. However, it has since been clearly established that this structure is inorganic.

Distribution.—It is generally assumed that the Archean rocks underlie all the younger formations over the whole globe, and presumably this is the only system that does so. Naturally, the area of its outcrop is limited, for, directly or indirectly, all the younger rock groups must rest upon it.

Distribution.—It is generally believed that the Archean rocks lie beneath all the younger formations around the world, and this is likely the only system that does so. Naturally, the area where these rocks are exposed is limited, since all younger rock groups must, directly or indirectly, rest upon them.

It has been estimated that Archean rocks appear at the surface over one-fifth of the land area (omitting coverings of superficial drifts). This estimate is no more than the roughest approximation, and is liable at any time to revision as our knowledge of little-known regions is increased. It must ever be borne in mind that the presence of a gneissose or schistose complex does not in itself imply the Archean age of such a set of rocks. Local manifestations of a similar petrological facies may and do appear which are of vastly inferior geological age; and unless there is unequivocal evidence that such rocks lie beneath the oldest fossil-bearing strata, there can be no absolute certainty as to their antiquity. It is more than likely that certain occurrences of gneiss and schist, at present regarded as Archean, may prove on fuller examination to be metamorphosed representatives of younger periods.

It’s estimated that Archean rocks make up over one-fifth of the Earth's land area (not counting superficial drifts). This estimate is just a rough approximation and could change anytime as we learn more about little-known regions. It’s important to remember that finding a gneissose or schistose complex doesn’t necessarily mean those rocks are Archean. Local examples of similar rock types can and do appear that are much younger; and unless there’s clear evidence that these rocks lie beneath the oldest fossil-bearing layers, we can’t be absolutely sure about their age. It’s quite possible that some of the gneiss and schist currently considered Archean may, upon closer inspection, turn out to be metamorphosed versions from younger geological periods.

Britain.—The most important exposure of Archean rocks in Britain is in the north-west of Scotland, where they form the mainland in Sutherland and Ross-shire, and appear also in the outer Hebrides. Their great development in the isle of Lewis has given rise to the term “Lewisian” (Hebridean), by which the gneisses of this region are now generally known. The Lewisian series comprises two great groups of rocks, (1) the so-called “fundamental complex,” an assemblage of acid, basic and intermediate irruptive rocks, associated together in a complex of extraordinary intricacy, and (2) a series of dikes, which like the rocks they traverse, show every gradation from ultra-basic to ultra-acid types. But the above bald statement conveys no idea of the complexity of the series, for before the “fundamental complex” had been pierced by the later dike system it had been subjected to severe dynamo-metamorphism and many of the massive rocks had been folded, thrust and sheared, and a very general state of foliation had been produced. Nor was this all, for after the intrusion of the dikes, great movements brought about vertical dislocations, and thrust planes, which traversed the rocks at all angles, accompanied by still further internal shearing and superinduced foliation.

Britain.—The most significant exposure of Archean rocks in Britain is found in the northwest of Scotland, where they make up the mainland in Sutherland and Ross-shire, and also appear in the Outer Hebrides. Their extensive formation on the Isle of Lewis has led to the term “Lewisian” (Hebridean), which is commonly used to refer to the gneisses of this area. The Lewisian series consists of two major rock groups: (1) the so-called “fundamental complex,” a collection of acid, basic, and intermediate intrusive rocks, which are linked together in an incredibly intricate way, and (2) a series of dikes that, like the rocks they cut through, exhibit a full range from ultra-basic to ultra-acid types. However, this straightforward description does not capture the complexity of the series. Before the “fundamental complex” was intersected by the later dike system, it underwent intense dynamo-metamorphism, resulting in many of the massive rocks being folded, thrust, and sheared, and a widespread state of foliation being established. Moreover, after the dikes intruded, significant movements caused vertical dislocations and thrust planes, which cut through the rocks at various angles, leading to additional internal shearing and induced foliation.

In the valley of Loch Maree and thence south-westward into Glenelg, a series of mica-schists, quartz-schists, saccharoid limestones and graphitic schists has been regarded as a group of sedimentary origin through which the Lewisian rocks have been irrupted.

In the valley of Loch Maree and then southwest into Glenelg, a group of mica schists, quartz schists, sugary limestones, and graphite schists is considered to have a sedimentary origin, which the Lewisian rocks have intruded through.

In England several small masses of gneiss, notably at Primrose Hill on the Wrekin, Shropshire, in the Malvern hills, and on the island of Anglesey in North Wales, are supposed to correspond with the Lewisian of Scotland.

In England, several small masses of gneiss, especially at Primrose Hill on the Wrekin, Shropshire, in the Malvern Hills, and on the island of Anglesey in North Wales, are thought to correspond with the Lewisian of Scotland.

North America.—In this continent there is a great development of Archean rocks in Canada. On the eastern side it covers nearly the whole of the Labrador peninsula, and extends into Baffin Bay and possibly over much of Greenland; a broad tract unites the great lake region with Labrador, and from the same region, by way of the Mackenzie valley, a similar tract extends in a north-westerly direction to the Arctic Ocean. This northern (Canadian) area of Archean includes portions of the states of Minnesota, Michigan, Wisconsin and the Adirondack region of New York. On the western side of the continent a series of disconnected exposures of Archean rocks runs downwards in a narrow belt from Alaska to New Mexico; and on the eastern side a similar belt reaches from Newfoundland to Alabama.

North America.—This continent features a significant presence of Archean rocks in Canada. On the eastern side, it covers nearly the entire Labrador peninsula and extends into Baffin Bay, possibly reaching much of Greenland; a wide area connects the great lake region with Labrador. From this same region, a similar area extends north-west through the Mackenzie valley to the Arctic Ocean. This northern (Canadian) region of Archean includes parts of Minnesota, Michigan, Wisconsin, and the Adirondack area of New York. On the western side of the continent, a series of scattered Archean rock formations stretches down in a narrow band from Alaska to New Mexico; on the eastern side, a similar band extends from Newfoundland to Alabama.

Much attention is now being given to the more scattered exposures of Archean rocks, but the best-known area is the classical ground in the vicinity of Lake Superior and Lake Huron and in the Ottawa gneiss region of Canada. Some of the more important districts are the following:—

Much attention is currently focused on the more dispersed exposures of Archean rocks, but the most well-known area remains the classic ground around Lake Superior and Lake Huron, as well as in the Ottawa gneiss region of Canada. Some of the key districts are as follows:—

Rainy Lake district, Canada: The Archean rocks here consist of altered diorites and diabases (the lower Keewatin series) and black hornblende schists (probably altered igneous rocks), with mica gneisses which are perhaps of sedimentary origin.

Rainy Lake district, Canada: The Archean rocks here are made up of altered diorites and diabases (the lower Keewatin series) and black hornblende schists (likely altered igneous rocks), along with mica gneisses that might be of sedimentary origin.

The Mona and Kiticni schists; metamorphosed lava and tuffs, with serpentine and dolomite, probably derived from peridotites; there are also gneissic granites and syenites.

The Mona and Kiticni schists; transformed lava and tuffs, with serpentine and dolomite, likely originating from peridotites; there are also gneissic granites and syenites.

In the Menominee region of Michigan and Wisconsin, the Quinnesec schist series mainly consist of schistose quartz porphyry with associated gneisses.

In the Menominee area of Michigan and Wisconsin, the Quinnesec schist series mainly consists of schistose quartz porphyry along with related gneisses.

In the Mesaba district of Minnesota the Archean consists of a complex of more or less foliated igneous rocks mostly basic in character.

In the Mesaba area of Minnesota, the Archean is made up of a complex of somewhat layered igneous rocks that are mostly basic in nature.

The Archean of the Vermilion district of Minnesota comprises the Soudan formation, an altered sedimentary series with banded cherts, jasper and magnetite schists; the iron ores are extensively mined. At the base is a conglomerate containing pebbles from the formation below, the Ely greenstone, which is made up of altered basalts and andesites, generally in a schistose condition, but occasionally exhibiting spherulitic structures. Into these two formations a series of granites have been intruded.

The Archean of the Vermilion district in Minnesota includes the Soudan formation, which is an altered sedimentary series featuring banded cherts, jasper, and magnetite schists; the iron ores here are heavily mined. At the bottom, there’s a conglomerate that contains pebbles from the underlying Ely greenstone, made up of altered basalts and andesites, usually in a schist-like state, but sometimes showing spherulitic structures. A series of granites have intruded into these two formations.

Europe.—In Scandinavia, as in Scotland, the pre-Cambrian is represented by an earlier and a later series of rocks of which the former (Grundfjeldet, Urberget) may be taken to be the equivalent of the Lewisian gneisses. This assemblage of coarse red and grey banded gneisses, with associated granulites and many varieties of acid, basic and intermediate rocks in a gneissose condition, is intimately related to a highly metamorphosed sedimentary series comprising limestones, quartzites and schists, which, as in Scotland, is apparently older than the gneisses. Similar rocks occur in Sweden and Finland.

Europe.—In Scandinavia, just like in Scotland, the pre-Cambrian period is represented by an earlier and a later set of rocks, with the former (Grundfjeldet, Urberget) being equivalent to the Lewisian gneisses. This collection of coarse red and grey banded gneisses, along with associated granulites and various types of acid, basic, and intermediate rocks in a gneissose state, is closely connected to a highly metamorphosed sedimentary series that includes limestones, quartzites, and schists, which, similar to Scotland, seems to be older than the gneisses. Similar rocks can also be found in Sweden and Finland.

In Bavaria and Bohemia the Archean is divisible into a lower red gneiss, a comparatively simple series, called by C.W. von Gümbel the “gneiss of Bojan”; and an upper, grey gneiss with other schistose rocks, serpentine and graphitic limestone, termed by the same author the “Hercynian gneiss.”

In Bavaria and Bohemia, the Archean can be divided into a lower red gneiss, which is a relatively straightforward series known by C.W. von Gümbel as the “gneiss of Bojan,” and an upper grey gneiss that includes various schistose rocks, serpentine, and graphitic limestone, referred to by the same author as the “Hercynian gneiss.”

In Brittany a gneissose and schistose igneous series lies at the base of the pre-Cambrian. The pre-Cambrian cores of the eastern and central Pyrenees, consisting of gneiss, schists and altered limestones, are presumably of Archean age.

In Brittany, there’s a gneissose and schistose igneous series at the bottom of the pre-Cambrian. The pre-Cambrian cores of the eastern and central Pyrenees, made up of gneiss, schists, and altered limestones, are likely from the Archean era.

Asia, Australia, &c.—In northern China, mica-gneisses and granite-gneisses with associated schists may be regarded as Archean. In India the system is represented by the Bundelkhand gneiss and the central older gneisses of the Himalayas. In Japan, in the Abukuma plateau, there is much granite, gneiss and schist which may be of this age. In Australia, similar rocks are recognized as Archean in South Australia and Westralia, and they are estimated to cover an area of no less than 20,000 sq. m.; in Tasmania they are well developed on the western side. Although a great area is occupied by crystalline rocks in New Zealand, the Archean age of any portion of the series is not yet satisfactorily established; the lower granites and gneisses may belong to this period. Africa contains enormous tracts of crystalline gneisses, granites and schists, and some of these are almost certainly of Archean age; but in the present state of our knowledge it is impossible to speak more exactly.

Asia, Australia, &c.—In northern China, mica-gneisses and granite-gneisses along with associated schists can be considered Archean. In India, this system is represented by the Bundelkhand gneiss and the older central gneisses of the Himalayas. In Japan, particularly in the Abukuma plateau, a lot of granite, gneiss, and schist may date back to this era. In Australia, similar rocks are identified as Archean in South Australia and Western Australia, covering an area of at least 20,000 sq. miles; in Tasmania, they are well represented on the western side. Although a large area in New Zealand is made up of crystalline rocks, it's not yet confirmed that any part of this series is Archean; the lower granites and gneisses might belong to this period. Africa has vast regions of crystalline gneisses, granites, and schists, some of which are likely Archean, but given our current knowledge, it's challenging to be more precise.

References.—A good general account of the Archean system will be found in Sir A. Geikie’s Text Book of Geology, vol. ii., 4th ed. (1903), and in T.C. Chamberlin and R.D. Salisbury’s Geology, vol. ii. (1906); these volumes contain references to all important literature.

References.—A solid overview of the Archean system can be found in Sir A. Geikie’s Text Book of Geology, vol. ii., 4th ed. (1903), and in T.C. Chamberlin and R.D. Salisbury’s Geology, vol. ii. (1906); these books include references to all major literature.

(J. A. H.)

ARCHELAUS OF CAPPADOCIA (1st century B.C.), general of Mithradates the Great in the war against Rome. In 87 B.C. he was sent to Greece with a large army and fleet, and occupied the Peiraeus after three days’ fighting with Bruttius Sura, prefect of Macedonia, who in the previous year had defeated Mithradates’ fleet under Metrophanes and captured the island of Sciathus. Here he was besieged by Sulla, compelled to withdraw into Boeotia, and completely defeated at Chaeroneia (86). A fresh army was sent by Mithradates, but Archelaus was again defeated at Orchomenus, after a two days’ battle (85). On the 362 conclusion of peace, Archelaus, finding that he had incurred the suspicion of Mithradates, deserted to the Romans, by whom he was well received. Nothing further is known of him.

ARCHELAUS OF CAPPADOCIA (1st century BCE), general of Mithradates the Great during the war against Rome. In 87 BCE, he was sent to Greece with a large army and fleet, and after three days of fighting with Bruttius Sura, the prefect of Macedonia, he took control of the Peiraeus. The previous year, Sura had defeated Mithradates' fleet, led by Metrophanes, and captured the island of Sciathus. Archelaus was then besieged by Sulla, forced to retreat to Boeotia, and was completely defeated at Chaeroneia (86). Mithradates sent a new army, but Archelaus was again defeated at Orchomenus after a two-day battle (85). At the end of peace talks, Archelaus, realizing he had aroused Mithradates' suspicion, switched sides to the Romans, who welcomed him. Nothing more is known about him.

Appian, Mithrid. 30, 49, 56, 64; Plutarch, Sulla, 11, 16-19, 20, 23; Lucullus, 8.

Appian, Mithrid. 30, 49, 56, 64; Plutarch, Sulla, 11, 16-19, 20, 23; Lucullus, 8.

Archelaus, king of Egypt, was his son. In 56 B.C. he married Berenice, daughter of Ptolemy Auletes, queen of Egypt, but his reign only lasted six months. He was defeated by Aulus Gabinius and slain (55).

Archelaus, king of Egypt, was his son. In 56 BCE he married Berenice, daughter of Ptolemy Auletes, queen of Egypt, but his reign only lasted six months. He was defeated by Aulus Gabinius and killed (55).

See Strabo xii. p. 558, xvii. p. 796; Dio Cassius xxxix. 57-58; Cicero, Pro Rabirio, 8; Hirtius (?), Bell. Alex. 66; also Ptolemies.

See Strabo xii. p. 558, xvii. p. 796; Dio Cassius xxxix. 57-58; Cicero, Pro Rabirio, 8; Hirtius (?), Bell. Alex. 66; also Ptolemies.

Archelaus, king of Cappadocia, was grandson of the last named. In 41 B.C. (according to others, 34), he was made king of Cappadocia by Mark Antony, whom, however, he deserted after the battle of Actium. Octavian enlarged his kingdom by the addition of part of Cilicia and Lesser Armenia. He was not popular with his subjects, who even brought an accusation against him in Rome, on which occasion he was defended by Tiberius. Subsequently he was accused by Tiberius, when emperor, of endeavouring to stir up a revolution, and died in confinement at Rome (A.D. 17). Cappadocia was then made a Roman province. Archelaus was said to have been the author of a geographical work, and to have written treatises On Stones and Rivers.

Archelaus, king of Cappadocia, was the grandson of the last named. In 41 B.C. (some say 34), he became king of Cappadocia through Mark Antony, but he abandoned him after the battle of Actium. Octavian expanded his kingdom by adding parts of Cilicia and Lesser Armenia. He was not well-liked by his subjects, who even brought accusations against him in Rome, where he was defended by Tiberius. Later, he was accused by Tiberius, who had become emperor, of trying to incite a rebellion, and he died in custody in Rome (CE 17). After that, Cappadocia became a Roman province. Archelaus was said to have written a geographical work and to have authored treatises titled On Stones and Rivers.

Strabo xii. p. 540; Suetonius, Tiberius, 37, Caligula, 1; Dio Cassius xlix. 32-51; Tacitus, Ann. ii. 42.

Strabo xii. p. 540; Suetonius, Tiberius, 37, Caligula, 1; Dio Cassius xlix. 32-51; Tacitus, Ann. ii. 42.


ARCHELAUS, king of Judaea, was the son of Herod the Great. He received the kingdom of Judaea by the last will of his father, though a previous will had bequeathed it to his brother Antipas. He was proclaimed king by the army, but declined to assume the title until he had submitted his claims to Augustus at Rome. Before setting out, he quelled with the utmost cruelty a sedition of the Pharisees, slaying nearly 3000 of them. At Rome he was opposed by Antipas and by many of the Jews, who feared his cruelty; but Augustus allotted to him the greater part of the kingdom (Judaea, Samaria, Ituraea) with the title of ethnarch. He married Glaphyra, the widow of his brother Alexander, though his wife and her second husband, Juba, king of Mauretania, were alive. This violation of the Mosaic law and his continued cruelty roused the Jews, who complained to Augustus. Archelaus was deposed (A.D. 7) and banished to Vienne. The date of his death is unknown.

ARCHELAUS, king of Judea, was the son of Herod the Great. He received the kingdom of Judea through his father's last will, even though a previous will had left it to his brother Antipas. He was declared king by the army, but chose not to take on the title until he had presented his claims to Augustus in Rome. Before leaving, he brutally suppressed a rebellion among the Pharisees, killing nearly 3,000 of them. In Rome, he faced opposition from Antipas and many Jews who feared his cruelty; however, Augustus granted him most of the kingdom (Judea, Samaria, Ituraea) with the title of ethnarch. He married Glaphyra, the widow of his brother Alexander, even though his wife and her second husband, Juba, the king of Mauretania, were still alive. This breach of Mosaic law and his ongoing cruelty angered the Jews, who petitioned Augustus. Archelaus was removed from power (CE 7) and exiled to Vienne. The date of his death is unknown.

Archelaus is mentioned in Matt. ii. 22, and the parable of Luke xix. 11 f. probably refers to his journey to Rome.

Archelaus is mentioned in Matt. ii. 22, and the parable in Luke xix. 11 f. probably refers to his trip to Rome.

See Schürer, Gesch. des jüdischen Volkes, i. 449-453.

See Schürer, Gesch. des jüdischen Volkes, i. 449-453.

(J. H. A. H.)

ARCHELAUS, king of Macedonia (413-399 B.C.), was the son of Perdiccas and a slave mother. He obtained the throne by murdering his uncle, his cousin and his half-brother, the legitimate heir, but proved a capable and beneficent ruler. He fortified cities, constructed roads and organized the army. He endeavoured to spread among his people the refinements of Greek civilization, and invited to his court, which he removed from Aegae to Pella, many celebrated men, amongst them Zeuxis, Timotheus, Euripides and Agathon. In 399 he was killed by one of his favourites while hunting; according to another account he was the victim of a conspiracy.

ARCHELAUS, was the king of Macedonia (413-399 BCE), the son of Perdiccas and a slave mother. He took the throne by murdering his uncle, cousin, and half-brother, who was the rightful heir, but proved to be a capable and generous ruler. He strengthened cities, built roads, and organized the army. He worked to introduce the benefits of Greek civilization to his people and invited many renowned individuals to his court, which he moved from Aegae to Pella, including Zeuxis, Timotheus, Euripides, and Agathon. In 399, he was killed by one of his favorites while hunting; according to another version, he was the target of a conspiracy.

Diodorus Siculus xiii. 49, xiv. 37; Thucydides ii. 100. See Macedonia.

Diodorus Siculus xiii. 49, xiv. 37; Thucydides ii. 100. See Macedonia.


ARCHELAUS OF MILETUS, Greek philosopher of the 5th century B.C., was born probably at Athens, though Diogenes Laërtius (ii. 16) says at Miletus. He was a pupil of Anaxagoras, and is said by Ion of Chios (ap. Diog. Laërt. ii. 23) to have been the teacher of Socrates. Some argue that this is probably only an attempt to connect Socrates with the Ionian school; others (e.g. Gomperz, Greek Thinkers) uphold the story. There is similar difference of opinion as regards the statement that Archelaus formulated certain ethical doctrines. In general, he followed Anaxagoras, but in his cosmology he went back to the earlier Ionians. He postulated primitive Matter, identical with air and mingled with Mind, thus avoiding the dualism of Anaxagoras. Out of this conscious “air,” by a process of thickening and thinning, arose cold and warmth, or water and fire, the one passive, the other active. The earth and the heavenly bodies are formed from mud, the product of fire and water, from which springs also man, at first in his lower forms. Man differs from animals by the possession of the moral and artistic faculty. No fragments of Archelaus remain; his doctrines have to be extracted from Diogenes Laërtius, Simplicius, Plutarch and Hippolytus.

ARCHELAUS OF MILETUS Greek philosopher from the 5th century BCE, was likely born in Athens, although Diogenes Laërtius (ii. 16) claims he was from Miletus. He studied under Anaxagoras and is said by Ion of Chios (ap. Diog. Laërt. ii. 23) to have been Socrates' teacher. Some believe this is just an effort to link Socrates to the Ionian school; others (e.g. Gomperz, Greek Thinkers) support the story. There's a similar debate about the claim that Archelaus developed certain ethical ideas. Generally, he followed Anaxagoras but returned to earlier Ionian thought in his view of the universe. He proposed a basic Matter, which is the same as air and blended with Mind, thus avoiding Anaxagoras' dualism. From this conscious "air," through processes of thickening and thinning, cold and warmth, or water and fire, emerged; one being passive, the other active. The earth and celestial bodies are formed from mud, the result of fire and water, which also leads to the creation of man, initially in his lower forms. Man is distinguished from animals by his moral and artistic abilities. No writings of Archelaus survive; his teachings must be gathered from Diogenes Laërtius, Simplicius, Plutarch, and Hippolytus.

See Ionian School; for his ethical theories see T. Gomperz, Greek Thinkers (Eng. trans., 1901), vol. i. p. 402.

See Ionian School; for his ethical theories, check out T. Gomperz, Greek Thinkers (Eng. trans., 1901), vol. i. p. 402.


ARCHENHOLZ, JOHANN WILHELM VON (1743-1812), German historian, was born at Langfuhr, a suburb of Danzig, on the 3rd of September 1743. From the Berlin Cadet school he passed into the Prussian army at the age of sixteen, and took part in the last campaigns of the Seven Years’ War. Retiring from military service, on account of his wounds, with the rank of captain in 1763, he travelled for sixteen years and visited nearly all the countries of Europe, and resided in England for ten years (1769-1779). Returning to Germany in 1780, he obtained a lay canonry at the cathedral of Magdeburg, and immediately entered upon a literary career by publishing the periodical Litteratur- und Völkerkunde (Leipzig, 1782-1791). This was followed in 1785 by England und Italien (2nd ed., Leipzig, 1787), in which he gives a remarkably unprejudiced appreciation of English political and social institutions. Between 1789 and 1798 he published his Annalen der britischen Geschichte (20 vols). But the work by which he is best known to fame is his brilliantly written history of the Seven Years’ War, Geschichte des siebenjährigen Krieges (first published in the Berliner historisches Taschenbuch of 1787, and later in 2 vols., Berlin, 1793; 13th ed., Leipzig, 1892). This work, though as regards the main facts and details it only follows other writers, is still a useful source of information upon the epoch with which it deals. In 1792 Archenholz removed to Hamburg, and there, from 1792 to 1812, edited the journal Minerva, which had a great reputation for its literary, historical and political information. Archenholz died at his country seat, Oyendorf, near Hamburg, on the 28th of February 1812.

ARCHENHOLZ, JOHANN WILHELM VON (1743-1812), German historian, was born in Langfuhr, a suburb of Danzig, on September 3, 1743. He joined the Prussian army at sixteen after attending the Berlin Cadet school and participated in the final campaigns of the Seven Years’ War. After retiring from military service in 1763 due to his injuries, holding the rank of captain, he traveled for sixteen years, visiting nearly every European country, and lived in England for ten years (1769-1779). Upon returning to Germany in 1780, he secured a lay canonry at the cathedral of Magdeburg and quickly began his literary career by publishing the periodical Litteratur- und Völkerkunde (Leipzig, 1782-1791). This was followed in 1785 by England und Italien (2nd ed., Leipzig, 1787), where he provided a notably unbiased evaluation of English political and social systems. Between 1789 and 1798, he published his Annalen der britischen Geschichte (20 vols). However, he is best known for his eloquently written history of the Seven Years’ War, Geschichte des siebenjährigen Krieges (first published in the Berliner historisches Taschenbuch of 1787, later in 2 vols., Berlin, 1793; 13th ed., Leipzig, 1892). Although this work closely follows other authors regarding the main facts and details, it remains a valuable source of information about the period it addresses. In 1792, Archenholz moved to Hamburg, where he edited the journal Minerva from 1792 to 1812, which gained a strong reputation for its literary, historical, and political insights. Archenholz passed away at his country estate, Oyendorf, near Hamburg, on February 28, 1812.


ARCHER, WILLIAM (1856-  ), English critic, was born at Perth on the 23rd of September 1856, and was educated at Edinburgh University. He became a leader-writer on the Edinburgh Evening News in 1875, and after a year in Australia returned to Edinburgh. In 1879 he became dramatic critic of the London Figaro, and in 1884 of the World. In London he soon took a prominent literary place. Mr Archer had much to do with introducing Ibsen to the English public by his translation of The Pillars of Society, produced at the Gaiety Theatre, London, in 1880. He also translated, alone or in collaboration, other productions of the Scandinavian stage: Ibsen’s Doll’s House (1889), Master Builder (1893); Edvard Brandes’s A Visit (1892); Ibsen’s Peer Gynt (1892); Little Eyolf (1895); and John Gabriel Borkman (1897); and he edited Henrik Ibsen’s Prose Dramas (5 vols., 1890-1891). Among his critical works are:—English Dramatists of To-day (1882); Masks or Faces? (1888); five vols. of critical notices reprinted, The Theatrical World (1893-1897); America To-day, Observations and Reflections; Poets of the Younger Generation (1901); Real Conversations (1904).

ARCHER, WILLIAM (1856-  ), English critic, was born in Perth on September 23, 1856, and studied at Edinburgh University. He became a lead writer for the Edinburgh Evening News in 1875, and after a year in Australia, returned to Edinburgh. In 1879, he became the drama critic for the London Figaro, and in 1884 for the World. In London, he quickly established himself as a key literary figure. Mr. Archer played a significant role in introducing Ibsen to the English audience with his translation of The Pillars of Society, performed at the Gaiety Theatre in London in 1880. He also translated, either alone or in collaboration, various works from the Scandinavian stage: Ibsen’s Doll’s House (1889), Master Builder (1893); Edvard Brandes’s A Visit (1892); Ibsen’s Peer Gynt (1892); Little Eyolf (1895); and John Gabriel Borkman (1897); and he edited Henrik Ibsen’s Prose Dramas (5 vols., 1890-1891). Among his critical works are:—English Dramatists of To-day (1882); Masks or Faces? (1888); five volumes of critical notices reprinted, The Theatrical World (1893-1897); America To-day, Observations and Reflections; Poets of the Younger Generation (1901); Real Conversations (1904).


ARCHERMUS, a Chian sculptor of the middle of the 6th century B.C. His father Micciades, and his sons, Bupalus and Athenis, were all sculptors of marble, using doubtless the fine marble of their native land. The school excelled in draped female figures. Archermus is said by a scholiast (on Aristophanes’ Birds, v. 573) to have been the first to represent Victory and Love with wings. This statement gives especial interest to a discovery made at Delos of a basis signed by Micciades and Archermus which was connected with a winged female figure in rapid motion (see Greek Art), a figure naturally at first regarded as the Victory of Archermus. Unfortunately further investigation has discredited the notion that the statue belongs to the basis, which seems rather to have supported a sphinx.

ARCHERMUS, a sculptor from Chios in the mid-6th century BCE His father Micciades and his sons, Bupalus and Athenis, were all marble sculptors who likely used the excellent marble from their homeland. The school was known for its draped female figures. A scholar (on Aristophanes’ Birds, v. 573) claims that he was the first to depict Victory and Love with wings. This statement adds significance to a discovery at Delos of a base signed by Micciades and Archermus, which was linked to a winged female figure in swift motion (see Greek Art), initially thought to be Archermus's Victory. Unfortunately, further research has disproved the idea that the statue was part of the base, which likely supported a sphinx instead.


ARCHERY, the art and practice of shooting with the bow (arcus) and arrow, or with crossbow and bolts. Though these weapons are by no means widely used amongst savage tribes of the present day, their origin is lost in the mists of antiquity. 363 Amongst the great peoples of ancient history the Egyptians were History in war. the first and the most famous of archers, relying on the bow as their principal weapon in war. Their bows were somewhat shorter than a man, and their arrows varied between 2 ft. and 2 ft. 8 in. in length. Here, as elsewhere, flint heads for arrows were by no means rare, but bronze was the usual material employed. The Biblical bow was of reed, wood or horn, and the Israelites used it freely both in war (Gen. xlviii. 22) and in the chase (xxi. 20). The Assyrians also were a nation of archers. Amongst the Greeks of the historic period archery was not much in evidence, in spite of the tradition of Teucer, Ulysses and many other archers of the Iliad and Odyssey. The Cretans, however, supplied Greek armies with the bowmen required. In the “Ten Thousand” figured two hundred Cretan bowmen of Sosias’ corps. Rüstow and Köchly (Geschichte des griechischen Kriegwesens, p. 131) estimate the range of the Cretan bow at eighty to one hundred paces, as compared with the sling-bullet’s forty or fifty, and the javelin’s thirty to forty. The Romans as a nation were, equally with the Greeks, indifferent to archery; in their legions the archer element was furnished by Cretans and Asiatics. On the other hand nearly all Asiatic and derived nations were famous bowmen, from the nations who fought under Xerxes’ banner onwards. The Persian, Scythian and Parthian bow was far more efficient than the Cretan, though the latter was not wanting in the heterogeneous armies of the East. The sagittarii, three thousand strong, who fought in the Pharsalian campaign, were drawn from Crete, Pontus, Syria, &c. But the Roman view of archery was radically altered when the old legionary system perished at Adrianople (A.D. 378). After this time the armies of the empire consisted in great part of horse-archers. Their missiles, we are told, pierced cuirass and shield with ease, and they shot equally well dismounted and at the gallop. These troops, combined with heavy cavalry and themselves not unprovided with armour, played a decisive part in the Roman victories of the age of Belisarius and Narses. The destruction of the Franks at Casilinum (A.D. 554) was practically the work of the horse-archers.

ARCHERY, the art and practice of shooting with a bow (arcus) and arrow, or with a crossbow and bolts. Although these weapons aren’t widely used among modern tribes, their origins are lost in the mists of history. 363 Among the great civilizations of ancient history, the Egyptians were War history. the first and most renowned archers, using the bow as their primary weapon in warfare. Their bows were slightly shorter than a man, and their arrows ranged from 2 ft. to 2 ft. 8 in. in length. Here, as elsewhere, flint arrowheads were not uncommon, but bronze was the typical material used. The Biblical bow was made of reed, wood, or horn, and the Israelites used it liberally in both warfare (Gen. xlviii. 22) and hunting (xxi. 20). The Assyrians were also known as a nation of archers. Among the Greeks during the historic period, archery wasn’t very prominent, despite the legacy of Teucer, Ulysses, and other archers from the Iliad and Odyssey. However, the Cretans supplied Greek armies with the archers needed. In the “Ten Thousand,” there were two hundred Cretan archers in Sosias’ group. Rüstow and Köchly (Geschichte des griechischen Kriegwesens, p. 131) estimated the range of the Cretan bow at eighty to one hundred paces, compared to the sling-bullet’s forty or fifty, and the javelin’s thirty to forty. The Romans, like the Greeks, were not very interested in archery; in their legions, archers were mainly from Crete and Asia. On the other hand, almost all Asian and related nations were known for their bowmen, starting from the nations fighting under Xerxes’ banner. The Persian, Scythian, and Parthian bows were much more effective than the Cretan one, although the latter was still present in the mixed armies of the East. The sagittarii, three thousand strong, who fought in the Pharsalian campaign, were recruited from Crete, Pontus, Syria, etc. But the Roman perspective on archery dramatically changed after the old legionary system fell apart at Adrianople (CE 378). After this, the empire's armies were largely made up of horse-archers. Reports say their missiles could easily pierce armor and shields, and they were equally effective on foot and while galloping. These troops, alongside heavy cavalry and themselves not lacking armor, played a crucial role in the Roman victories during the time of Belisarius and Narses. The defeat of the Franks at Casilinum (CE 554) was primarily due to the horse-archers.

In the main, the nations whose migrations altered the face of Europe were not archers. Only with the Welsh, the Scandinavians, and the peoples in touch with the Eastern empire was the bow a favourite weapon. The edicts of Charlemagne could not succeed in making archery popular in his dominions, and Abbot Ebles, the defender of Paris in 886, is almost the only instance of a skilled archer in the European records of the time. The sagas, on the other hand, have much to say as to the feats of northern heroes with the bow. With English, French and Germans the bow was the weapon of the poorest military classes. The Norman archers, who doubtless preserved the traditions of their Danish ancestors, were in the forefront of William’s line at Hastings (1066), but contemporary evidence points conclusively to the short bow, drawn to the chest, as the weapon used on this occasion. The combat of Bourgthéroulde in 1124 shows that the Normans still combined heavy cavalry and archers as at Hastings. Horse-archers too (contrary to the usual belief) were here employed by the English.

Overall, the nations that changed Europe's landscape through migration were not archers. Only the Welsh, Scandinavians, and those in contact with the Eastern Empire favored the bow as a weapon. Charlemagne's efforts to promote archery in his realms were unsuccessful, and Abbot Ebles, who defended Paris in 886, is nearly the only example of a skilled archer in the European records from that time. In contrast, the sagas mention many feats of northern heroes with the bow. For the English, French, and Germans, the bow was primarily a weapon of the lower military classes. The Norman archers, who likely upheld the traditions of their Danish ancestors, were at the forefront of William’s line at Hastings (1066), but contemporary evidence clearly indicates that the short bow, drawn to the chest, was the weapon used in that battle. The combat at Bourgthéroulde in 1124 shows that the Normans still combined heavy cavalry and archers as they did at Hastings. Horse-archers, contrary to popular belief, were also employed by the English here.

Yet the “Assize of Arms” of 1181 does not mention the bow, and Richard I. was at great pains to procure crossbowmen for the Crusades. The crossbow had from about the 10th century gradually become the principal missile weapon in Europe, in spite of the fact that it was condemned by the Lateran Council of 1139. As early as 1270 in France, and rather later in Spain, the master of the crossbowmen had become a great dignitary, and in Spain the weapon was used by a corps d’élite of men of gentle birth, who, with their gay apparel, were a picturesque feature of continental armies of the period. But the Genoese, Pisans and Venetians were the peoples which employed the crossbow most of all. Many thousand Genoese crossbowmen were present at Creçy.

Yet the “Assize of Arms” from 1181 doesn’t mention the bow, and Richard I went to great lengths to recruit crossbowmen for the Crusades. The crossbow had gradually become the main missile weapon in Europe since around the 10th century, despite being condemned by the Lateran Council in 1139. As early as 1270 in France, and a bit later in Spain, the master of crossbowmen had risen to a high-ranking position, and in Spain, the weapon was used by an elite group of well-born men, who, with their colorful outfits, added a striking element to the continental armies of that time. However, the Genoese, Pisans, and Venetians were the ones who made the most use of the crossbow. Many thousands of Genoese crossbowmen were present at Crécy.

It was in the Crusades that the crossbow made its reputation, opposing heavier weight and greater accuracy to the missiles of the horse-archers, who invariably constituted the greatest and most important part of the Asiatic armies. So little change in warfare had centuries brought about that a crusading force in 1104 perished at Carrhae, on the same ground and before the same mounted-archer tactics, as the army of Crassus in 55 B.C. But individually the crusading crossbowman was infinitely superior to the Turkish or Egyptian horse-archer.

It was during the Crusades that the crossbow gained its reputation, offering more weight and better accuracy compared to the projectiles of the horse-archers, who were always the largest and most significant part of the Asian armies. Warfare had changed so little over the centuries that a crusading force in 1104 was defeated at Carrhae, on the same ground and facing the same mounted-archer tactics as Crassus's army in 55 B.C. However, each crusading crossbowman was far superior to the Turkish or Egyptian horse-archers.

England, which was to become the country of archers par excellence, long retained the old short bow of Hastings, and the far more efficient crossbow was only used as a rule by mercenaries, such as the celebrated Falkes de Breauté English use. and his men in the reign of John. South Wales, it seems certain, eventually produced the famous long-bow. In Ireland, in Henry II.’s time, Strongbow made great use of Welsh bowmen, whom he mounted for purposes of guerrilla warfare, and eventually the prowess of Welsh archers taught Edward I. the value of the hitherto discredited arm. At Falkirk (q.v.), once for all, the long-bow proved its worth, and thenceforward for centuries it was the principal weapon of English soldiers. By 1339, archers had come to be half of the whole mass of footmen, and later the proportion was greatly increased. In 1360 Edward III. mounted his archers, as Strongbow had done. The long-bow was about 5 ft., and its shaft a cloth-yard long. Shot by a Welsh archer, a shaft had penetrated an oak door (at Abergavenny in 1182) 4 in. thick and the head stood out a hand’s breadth on the inner side. Drawn to the right ear, the bow was naturally capable of long shooting, and in Henry VIII.’s time practice at a less range than one furlong was forbidden. In rapidity it was the equal of the short bow and the superior of the crossbow, which weapon, indeed, it surpassed in all respects. Falkirk, and still more Creçy, Poitiers and Agincourt, made the English archers the most celebrated infantry in Europe, and the kings of England, in whatever else they differed from each other, were, from Edward II. to Henry VIII., at one in the matter of archery. In 1363 Edward III. commanded the general practice of archery on Sundays and holidays, all other sports being forbidden. The provisions of this act were from time to time re-issued, particularly in the well-known act of Henry VIII. The price of bows and arrows was also regulated in the reign of Edward III., and Richard III. ordained that for every ton of certain goods imported ten yew-bows should be imported also, while at the same time long-bows of unusual size were admitted free of duty. In order to prevent the too rapid consumption of yew for bow-staves, bowyers were ordered to make four bows of wych-hazel, ash or elm to one of yew, and only the best and most useful men were allowed to possess yew-bows. Distant and exposed counties were provided for by making bowyers, fletchers, &c., liable (unless freemen of the city of London) to be ordered to any point where their services might be required. In Scotland and Ireland also, considerable attention was paid to archery. In 1478 archery was encouraged in Ireland by statute, and James I. and James IV. of Scotland, in particular, did their best to stimulate the interest of their subjects in the bow, whose powers they had felt in so many battles from Falkirk to Homildon Hill.

England, which would become the ultimate country of archers, held on to the old short bow from Hastings for a long time, while the much more effective crossbow was usually only used by mercenaries, like the famous Falkes de Breauté and his men during the reign of John. It seems clear that South Wales eventually produced the renowned long-bow. In Ireland, during Henry II.’s time, Strongbow greatly relied on Welsh bowmen, whom he equipped for guerrilla warfare, and ultimately, the skills of Welsh archers taught Edward I. the value of this previously discredited weapon. At Falkirk, the long-bow definitively proved its worth, and from that point on, it became the main weapon for English soldiers for centuries. By 1339, archers made up half of the total number of foot soldiers, and that proportion increased significantly over time. In 1360, Edward III. mounted his archers, just like Strongbow had done. The long-bow was about 5 feet long, with a shaft measuring a cloth-yard. A shaft shot by a Welsh archer had penetrated a 4-inch thick oak door (at Abergavenny in 1182), with the head sticking out a hand’s breadth on the inner side. Drawn to the right ear, the bow was naturally capable of long-distance shooting, and during Henry VIII.’s time, practicing at less than one furlong was prohibited. It was as fast as the short bow and superior to the crossbow, surpassing it in every way. Battles like Falkirk, and even more so Creçy, Poitiers, and Agincourt, made the English archers the most celebrated infantry in Europe, and from Edward II. to Henry VIII., all kings of England were united in their support of archery. In 1363, Edward III. mandated general practice of archery on Sundays and holidays, banning all other sports. The requirements of this law were periodically reissued, especially in the well-known legislation of Henry VIII. The prices of bows and arrows were also regulated during Edward III.’s reign, and Richard III. decreed that for every ton of certain imported goods, ten yew-bows should be imported as well, while long-bows of unusual size were exempt from taxes. To prevent the rapid depletion of yew for bow-staves, bowyers were instructed to create four bows from wych-hazel, ash, or elm for every one made from yew, and only the best and most capable individuals were allowed to own yew-bows. Areas that were distant and vulnerable were taken care of by making bowyers, fletchers, etc., liable (unless they were freemen of London) to be sent wherever their services were needed. Significant attention was also given to archery in Scotland and Ireland. In 1478, archery was promoted in Ireland through a statute, and James I. and James IV. of Scotland, in particular, did their utmost to inspire their subjects' interest in the bow, which they had experienced the power of in many battles from Falkirk to Homildon Hill.

The introduction of hand-firearms was naturally fatal to the bow as a warlike weapon, but the conservatism of the English, and the non-professional character of wars waged by them, added to the technical deficiencies of early Decline as weapon. firearms, made the process of change in England very gradual. The mercenary or professional element was naturally the first to adopt the new weapons. At Pont de l’Arche in 1418 the English had “petits canons” (which seem to have been hand guns), and during the latter part of the Hundred Years’ War their use became more and more frequent. The crossbow soon disappeared from the more professional armies of the continent. Charles the Bold had, before the battle of Morat (1476), ten thousand coulevrines à main. But in the hands of local forces the crossbow lingered on, at least in rural France, until about 1630. Its last appearance in war was in the hands of the Chinese at Taku (1860). But the long-bow, an incomparably finer weapon, endured as one of the principal arms of the English soldier until about 1590. Edward IV. entered London after the battle of Barnet with 500 “smokie gunners” 364 (foreign mercenaries), but at that engagement Warwick’s centre consisted solely of bows and bills (1471). The new weapons gradually made their way, but even in 1588, the year of the Armada, the local forces of Devonshire comprised 800 bows to 1600 “shot,” and 800 bills to 800 pikes. But the Armada year saw the last appearance of the English archer, and the same county in 1598 provides neither archers nor billmen, while in the professional army in Ireland these weapons had long given way to musket and caliver, pike and halberd. Archers appeared in civilized warfare as late as 1807, when fifteen hundred “baskiers,” horse-archers, clad in chain armour, fought against Napoleon in Poland.

The introduction of handguns was obviously a blow to the bow as a military weapon, but the traditional ways of the English and the amateur nature of their wars, combined with the technical shortcomings of early firearms, made the transition in England very slow. The mercenary or professional soldiers were naturally the first to adopt the new weapons. At Pont de l’Arche in 1418, the English had “petits canons” (which appear to have been handguns), and during the later part of the Hundred Years’ War, their use became more and more common. The crossbow quickly vanished from the more organized armies on the continent. Charles the Bold had, before the battle of Morat (1476), ten thousand coulevrines à main. However, the crossbow persisted in local forces, especially in rural France, until around 1630. Its last use in warfare was with the Chinese at Taku (1860). On the other hand, the longbow, an exceptionally better weapon, continued to be one of the primary arms of the English soldier until around 1590. Edward IV entered London after the battle of Barnet with 500 “smokie gunners” (foreign mercenaries), but at that battle, Warwick’s center was made up entirely of bows and bills (1471). The new weapons gradually gained traction, but even in 1588, the year of the Armada, the local forces of Devonshire included 800 bows to 1600 “shot,” and 800 bills to 800 pikes. However, the year of the Armada saw the last use of the English archer, and the same county in 1598 had neither archers nor billmen, while in the professional army in Ireland these weapons had long been replaced by musket and caliver, pike and halberd. Archers appeared in civilized warfare as late as 1807, when fifteen hundred “baskiers,” horse-archers dressed in chain armor, fought against Napoleon in Poland.

As a weapon of the chase the bow was in its various forms employed even more than in war. The rise of archery as a sport in England was, of course, a consequence of its military value, which caused it to be so heartily encouraged by all English sovereigns.

As a tool for hunting, the bow was used even more than in battle. The popularity of archery as a sport in England was, of course, a result of its military importance, which led to enthusiastic support from all English kings.

The Japanese were from their earliest times great archers, and the bow was the weapon par excellence of their soldiers. The standard length of the bow (usually bamboo) was 7 ft. 6 in., of the arrow 3 ft. to 3 ft. 9 in. Numerous Japan. feats of archery are recorded to have taken place in the “thirty-three span” halls of Kioto and Tokyo, where the archer had to shoot the whole length of a very low corridor, 128 yds. long. Wada Daihachi in the 17th century shot 8133 arrows down the corridor in twenty-four consecutive hours, averaging five shots a minute, and in 1852 a modern archer made 5583 successful shots in twenty hours, or over four a minute.

The Japanese have been skilled archers since ancient times, and the bow was the main weapon of their soldiers. The standard length of the bow (typically made from bamboo) was 7 ft. 6 in., and arrows ranged from 3 ft. to 3 ft. 9 in. Many impressive archery feats are recorded to have happened in the “thirty-three span” halls of Kyoto and Tokyo, where archers had to shoot the entire length of a very low corridor that was 128 yds. long. In the 17th century, Wada Daihachi shot 8,133 arrows down the corridor in twenty-four hours, averaging five shots per minute, and in 1852, a modern archer accomplished 5,583 successful shots in twenty hours, or over four shots per minute.

The Pastime of Archery.—The use of the bow and arrow as a pastime naturally accompanied their use as weapons of war, but when the gun began to supersede the bow the pastime lost its popularity. Charles II., however, History of Sport. and his queen, Catherine of Braganza, interested themselves in English archery, the queen in 1676 presenting a silver badge or shield to the “Marshall of the Fraternity of Archers,” which badge, once the property of the Finsbury Archers, was transferred to the keeping of the Royal Toxophilite Society, when in 1841 the two clubs combined. The Toxophilite Society was founded in 1781; for though in the north archery had long been practised, its resuscitation in the south really dates from the formation of this club by Sir Ashton Lever. This society received the title of “Royal” in 1847, though it had long been patronized by royalty. It is an error to suppose that the Finsbury Archers were connected with the Archers’ division of the Hon. Artillery Company, but many members of the Toxophilite Society joined that division, and used its ground for shooting, securing, however, a London ground of their own in the district where Gower Street, W.C., now is. When this ground became unavailable, the shooting probably took place at Highbury, and later in 1820, on Lord’s cricket ground, the present ground in the Inner Circle of Regent’s Park, near the Botanical Gardens, not being acquired till 1833. The society may be regarded as the most important body connected with archery, most of the leading archers belonging to it, though the Grand National Archery Society controls the public meetings. Among its more important events is the shooting of 144 arrows at 100 yds. for the Crunder Cup and Bugle. In the early days of the club targets of different sizes were used at the different ranges, and the scores were recorded in money (e.g. “Mr Elwin, 86 hits, £5 : 5 : 6”). The Woodmen of Arden can claim an almost equal antiquity, having been founded—some say “revived”— in 1785. The number of members is limited to 80; at one time there were 81, Sir Robert Peel having been elected as a supernumerary by way of compliment. The headquarters of the Woodmen are at Meriden in Warwickshire; the club has a nominal authority over vert and venison, whence its officers bear appropriate names-warden, master-forester and verderers; and the annual meeting is called the Wardmote. The master-forester, or captain for the year, is the maker of the first “gold” at the annual target; he who makes the second is the senior verderer. The club devotes itself to the old-fashioned clout-shooting at long ranges, reckoned by “scores,” nine score meaning 180 yds., and so on. (Vide “Clout-shooting” infra.) The chief matches in which the Woodmen engage are those against the Royal Company of Scottish Archers. The Royal British Bowmen date back to the end of the 18th century. Like many others, during the Napoleonic war they suspended operations, revived when peace was made. The club was finally dissolved in 1880. The Royal Kentish Bowmen were founded in 1785, but did not survive the war. John O’Gaunt’s Bowmen, who still meet at Lancaster, were revived, not created, at the same time, and still flourish. The Herefordshire Bowmen only shoot at 60 yds., while the West Berks Society is limited to twelve members, who meet at each other’s houses, except for their Autumn Handicap, shot on the Toxophilite Grounds— 216 arrows at 100 yds. The Royal Company of Archers is the chief Scottish society. Originally a semi-military body constituted in 1676, it practised archery as a pastime from the time of its foundation, several meetings being held in the first few years of its existence. It devoted itself to “rovers,” or long-range shooting at the “clout,” among its most interesting trophies being the “Musselburgh Arrow,” first shot for in 1603, possibly even earlier, in that town; the competition was then open to all comers, for archery was long popular in Scotland, especially at Kilwinning, the headquarters of popinjay (q.v.) shooting. Other prizes are the “Peebles Silver Arrow,” dating back to 1626, the “Edinburgh Silver Arrow” (1709), the “Selkirk Arrow,” a very ancient prize, the “Dalhousie Sword,” the “Hopetoun Royal Commemoration Prize,” and others, shot for at ranges of 180 or 200 yds. The most curious is the “Goose Medal.” Originally a goose was buried in a butt with only its head visible, and this was the archers’ mark; now a small glass globe is substituted. The “Popingo (Popinjay) Medal,” for which a stuffed parrot was once used as the mark, is now contested at the ordinary butts. The Kilwinning Society of Archers, founded in 1688, did not disband till 1870; the Irvine Toxophilites flourished from 1814 till about 1867. But of all societies the Grand National Archery Society, regulating the great meetings, though comparatively young, is the most important. Various open meetings were already in existence, but in 1844 a few leading archers projected a Grand National Meeting, which was held in York in that year and in 1845 and 1846, and subsequently in other places. But the society did not exist as such till 1861, after the meeting held at Liverpool, since when, notwithstanding some financial troubles, it has been the legislative and managing body of English archery. The chief meetings are the “Championship,” the “Leamington and Midland Counties,” the “Crystal Palace,” the “Grand Western” and the “Grand Northern.” For some years a “Scottish Grand National” was held, but fell into abeyance. The “Scorton Arrow” is no longer shot for in the Yorkshire village of that name, but the meeting, held regularly in the county, dates back to 1673 by record, and is probably far older. The silver arrow and the captaincy are awarded to the man who makes the first gold; the silver bugle and lieutenancy to the first red; the gold medal to most hits, and a horn spoon to the last white.

The Pastime of Archery.—The use of the bow and arrow as a hobby naturally came about alongside their use as weapons for battle, but as guns started to replace bows, the pastime lost its appeal. Charles II, however, and his queen, Catherine of Braganza, took an interest in English archery. In 1676, the queen presented a silver badge or shield to the “Marshall of the Fraternity of Archers.” This badge, which had once belonged to the Finsbury Archers, was later given to the Royal Toxophilite Society when the two clubs merged in 1841. The Toxophilite Society was established in 1781; although archery had been practiced in the north for a long time, its revival in the south is truly attributed to the founding of this club by Sir Ashton Lever. This society was granted the title of “Royal” in 1847, although it had been supported by royalty for some time. It is a common misconception that the Finsbury Archers were associated with the Archers’ division of the Hon. Artillery Company; however, many members of the Toxophilite Society joined that division and used its grounds for shooting, while also securing their own ground in the area now known as Gower Street, W.C. When this ground became unavailable, shooting probably took place at Highbury, and later, in 1820, on Lord’s cricket ground, with the current ground in the Inner Circle of Regent’s Park, near the Botanical Gardens, not being obtained until 1833. The society is recognized as the most significant organization associated with archery, with most leading archers being members, despite the Grand National Archery Society overseeing public events. One of its key events involves shooting 144 arrows at 100 yards for the Crunder Cup and Bugle. In the early days of the club, targets of various sizes were used at different ranges, and scores were recorded in monetary terms (e.g., “Mr. Elwin, 86 hits, £5 : 5 : 6”). The Woodmen of Arden can also claim nearly equal age, having been founded—or some say “revived”—in 1785. Membership is limited to 80; at one point, there were 81, as Sir Robert Peel was elected as an honorary member. The Woodmen's headquarters are located in Meriden, Warwickshire; the club has nominal authority over game animals, which is why its officers have appropriate titles—warden, master-forester, and verderers—and the annual meeting is called the Wardmote. The master-forester, or captain for the year, is the one who makes the first “gold” at the annual target; the second is the senior verderer. The club focuses on traditional clout-shooting at long ranges, measured in “scores,” with nine scores meaning 180 yards, and so on. (Vide “Clout-shooting” infra.) The main matches for the Woodmen are held against the Royal Company of Scottish Archers. The Royal British Bowmen can be traced back to the end of the 18th century. Like many other clubs, they paused during the Napoleonic wars, resuming operations after peace was restored. The club was ultimately dissolved in 1880. The Royal Kentish Bowmen were established in 1785 but didn’t survive the war. John O’Gaunt’s Bowmen, who still meet in Lancaster, were revived—not newly formed—around the same time and continue to thrive. The Herefordshire Bowmen only shoot at 60 yards, while the West Berks Society has a membership cap of twelve, meeting at each other’s homes except for their Autumn Handicap, shot on the Toxophilite Grounds—216 arrows at 100 yards. The Royal Company of Archers is the primary Scottish society. Originally a semi-military organization created in 1676, it engaged in archery as a hobby from the start, with several meetings held during its early years. It specialized in “rovers,” or long-range shooting at the “clout,” with notable trophies like the “Musselburgh Arrow,” first contested in 1603, possibly earlier in that town; the competition was open to everyone, as archery had long been popular in Scotland, particularly in Kilwinning, the center for popinjay shooting. Other prizes include the “Peebles Silver Arrow,” from 1626, the “Edinburgh Silver Arrow” (1709), the “Selkirk Arrow,” an ancient prize, the “Dalhousie Sword,” the “Hopetoun Royal Commemoration Prize,” and others, contested at distances of 180 or 200 yards. The most unusual is the “Goose Medal.” Originally, a goose was buried in a mound with only its head showing, and this served as the archers’ target; now a small glass globe is used instead. The “Popingo (Popinjay) Medal,” which once featured a stuffed parrot as the target, is now contested at regular butts. The Kilwinning Society of Archers, founded in 1688, didn’t disband until 1870; the Irvine Toxophilites thrived from 1814 until about 1867. Of all the societies, the Grand National Archery Society, which oversees major events, is the most significant despite being comparatively recent. Various open meetings had been held earlier, but in 1844, a few leading archers planned a Grand National Meeting, held in York that year, as well as in 1845 and 1846, and later in other locations. However, the society as an entity was only formed in 1861, after the meeting at Liverpool; since then, despite some financial challenges, it has acted as the governing body of English archery. Major meetings include the “Championship,” the “Leamington and Midland Counties,” the “Crystal Palace,” the “Grand Western,” and the “Grand Northern.” For several years, a “Scottish Grand National” took place but it has since ceased. The “Scorton Arrow” is no longer contested in the Yorkshire village of that name, but the event, regularly held in the county, can be traced back to at least 1673 and likely is much older. The silver arrow and the captaincy are given to the individual who achieves the first gold; the silver bugle and lieutenancy go to the first red; the gold medal is awarded for the most hits, and a horn spoon is presented to the last white.

In the United States archery has had a limited popularity. The only one of the early clubs that lasted long was the “United Bowmen of Philadelphia,” founded in 1828, but defunct in 1859. There was a revival twenty years later, when a National Association was formed; and various meetings were held annually and championships instituted, but there was never any popular enthusiasm for the sport, though it showed signs of increasing favour towards the end of the 19th century. The longer ranges are not greatly favoured by American archers, though at some meetings the regulation “York Round” (vide infra under “Targets”) and the “National” are shot. Other rounds are the “Potomac,” 24 arrows at 80, 24 at 70, and 24 at 60 yds.; the “Double American,” 60 arrows each at 60, 50 and 40 yds.; and the “Double Columbia,” for ladies, 48 each at 50, 40 and 30 yds. In team matches ladies shoot 96 arrows at 50 yds., gentlemen 96 at 60.

In the United States, archery has had limited popularity. The only early club that lasted a long time was the “United Bowmen of Philadelphia,” founded in 1828, which dissolved in 1859. There was a revival twenty years later when a National Association was formed; various meetings were held annually, and championships were established, but there was never much popular enthusiasm for the sport, although it began to gain traction towards the end of the 19th century. American archers don't typically favor longer ranges, though at some events the regulation “York Round” (vide infra under “Targets”) and the “National” are shot. Other rounds include the “Potomac,” which consists of 24 arrows at 80, 24 at 70, and 24 at 60 yards; the “Double American,” which involves 60 arrows each at 60, 50, and 40 yards; and the “Double Columbia,” for ladies, with 48 arrows each at 50, 40, and 30 yards. In team matches, ladies shoot 96 arrows at 50 yards, while gentlemen shoot 96 at 60.

The Bow.—As used in the pastime of archery the length of the bows does not vary much, though it bears some relation to the length 365 of the arrow and the length of the arrow to the strength of the archer, to which the weight of the bow has to be adapted. The proper weight of a bow is the number of ℔ which, attached to the string, will draw a full-length arrow to its head. For men’s bows the drawing-power varies from 40 to 60 ℔, anything above this being extreme; ladies’ bows draw from 24 to 32 ℔ Estimating 50 ℔ as a fair average, such a bow would be 6 ft. 1 in. long for a 30-in., 6 ft. for a 28-in., and 5 ft. 11 in. for a 27-in. arrow, but the height as well as the strength of the archer have to be considered. Similarly a lady’s bow on the average measures about 5 ft. 6 in. and her arrows 25 in. Modern bows are either made entirely of yew (occasionally of other woods), when they are called “self-bows,” or of a combination of woods, when they are called “backed-bows.” Self-bows are rarely or never made in a single stave, owing to the difficulty of obtaining true and flawless wood of the necessary length; hence two staves joined by a double fish-joint, which forms the centre of the bow, are used, tested and adjusted so that they may be as equally elastic as possible. The best yew is imported from Italy and Spain, and is allowed to season for three years before it is made into a bow, which again is not used till it is two years older. In backed-bows the belly, the rounded part nearest to the string, is generally but not necessarily made of yew, the back, or flat part, of yew (the best), hickory, lance or other woods, glued together in strips. The centre of the bow, for about 18 in., should be stiff and resisting, then tapering off gradually to the horns in which the string is fitted, the greatest care being taken that the two limbs are uniform. The bow of self-yew is generally considered more agreeable to handle and has a better “cast,” throwing the arrow more smoothly and with less jar, and since no glued parts are exposed, it is less liable to injury from wet. On the other hand, “crysals” (tiny cracks, which are apt to extend) are more frequent in this class of bow. Self-yew bows cost £8 or £10, where a good backed-bow can be bought for about half that. The self-bow is more sensitive than other bows, and its work is mostly done during the last few inches of the pull, where the backed-bow pulls evenly throughout. The backed-bow should be perfectly straight in the back, but after use often loses its shape either by “following the string,” i.e. getting bent inwards on the string-side, or by becoming “reflex” (bending the opposite way). Self-bows are even more apt to lose their shape than backed-bows, as there is no hard wood to counteract the natural grain. A bow that is strongly reflexed at the ends is known as a “Cupid’s bow.” To form the handle the wood of the bow is left thick in the centre, and braid, leather or indiarubber is wound round it to give a better grip.

The Bow.—In archery, the length of bows doesn’t vary much, though it is related to the length of the arrow and how strong the archer is, which also affects the bow’s weight. The correct weight of a bow is based on the number of pounds that, when attached to the string, can pull a full-length arrow to its head. For men’s bows, the draw weight ranges from 40 to 60 pounds, with anything above that being considered high; women’s bows range from 24 to 32 pounds. Assuming 50 pounds as an average, a bow of this weight would measure 6 ft. 1 in. for a 30-inch arrow, 6 ft. for a 28-inch arrow, and 5 ft. 11 in. for a 27-inch arrow. However, the archer's height and strength are also important factors. A typical woman’s bow is around 5 ft. 6 in. long, with her arrows measuring 25 inches. Modern bows are made either entirely from yew (sometimes from other woods), known as “self-bows,” or from a mix of woods, referred to as “backed-bows.” Self-bows are rarely, if ever, made from a single piece of wood due to the difficulty of finding flawless wood of the right length. Therefore, two pieces of wood are joined with a double fish-joint at the center and are carefully tested and adjusted to ensure they are as evenly elastic as possible. The best yew wood is imported from Italy and Spain and is allowed to season for three years before being crafted into a bow, which is then not used until it has aged an additional two years. In backed-bows, the belly, or the part closest to the string, is usually made of yew (the best type), while the back, or flat side, is made from strips of yew, hickory, lance, or other woods glued together. The bow’s center should be stiff for about 18 inches, gradually tapering off towards the ends where the string is attached, with special attention paid to ensure both limbs are uniform. Self-yew bows are generally considered more pleasant to handle and have a better “cast,” propelling the arrow smoothly with less vibration. Since there are no glued sections exposed, they’re less prone to damage from moisture. However, “crysals” (small cracks that can spread) are more common in this type of bow. Self-yew bows typically cost £8 to £10, while a decent backed-bow can be purchased for about half that price. The self-bow is more responsive than other types, with most of its action happening in the last few inches of the pull, whereas the backed-bow maintains a steady pull throughout. The backed-bow should be perfectly straight on the back, but often loses its shape over time, either by “following the string,” which means bending inward on the string side, or becoming “reflex,” bending the opposite way. Self-bows are even more likely to lose shape than backed-bows since there is no hard wood to counteract the natural grain. A bow that is strongly reflexed at the ends is known as a “Cupid’s bow.” To create the handle, the wood is left thick in the center, and materials like braid, leather, or rubber are wrapped around it for better grip.

The String and Stringing.—The string is made of three strands of hemp, dressed with a preparation of glue, and should be perfectly round, smooth and not frayed, as a broken string may result in a broken bow. The string, at its centre, is 6 in. from the belly of the man’s bow; 5 in. in the lady’s bow. The clenched fist with the thumb upright was the old, rough and ready estimate, known as “fist-mele.” For a few inches above and below the nocking point the string is lapped with carpet-thread to save it from fraying by contact with the arm; the nocking point being made by another lapping of filoselle silk, so that the string may exactly fit the nock of the arrow. When a bow is properly strung the string should be longitudinally along the middle of the belly.

The String and Stringing.—The string is made of three strands of hemp, coated with a glue preparation, and should be perfectly round, smooth, and not frayed, as a broken string can lead to a broken bow. The string, at its center, is 6 inches from the belly of the man’s bow and 5 inches in the lady’s bow. The clenched fist with the thumb upright was the old, quick way of estimating, known as “fist-mele.” For a few inches above and below the nocking point, the string is wrapped with carpet thread to prevent fraying from contact with the arm; the nocking point is created by another wrapping of filoselle silk, ensuring the string fits perfectly into the nock of the arrow. When a bow is properly strung, the string should run straight down the middle of the belly.

Arrows and Nocking.—The parts of the arrow are the shaft, the “nock” or notch, the “pile” or point, and the feathers. The shaft is made of seasoned red deal, and may be “self” or “footed.” Most arrows are “footed,” i.e. a piece of hard wood to which the pile is attached is spliced to the deal shaft, which should be perfectly straight and stiff. The shaft is made in several shapes. Most archers prefer the “parallel” pattern—the shaft being the same size from nock to pile; the next is the “barrelled,” the shape being thick in the centre and tapering towards the ends. The “bob-tail” diminishes from the pile to the nock; the “chested” tapers from the middle to the pile. The pile should not be taper but cylindrical, “broadshouldered” where the point begins. The nock is cut square. There are three feathers, the body feathers of a turkey or peacock being the best. They should all curve the same way, are about 1½ in. long and ½ in. deep, with the ends near the nock either square, or balloon-shaped. The weight of an arrow is its weight in new English silver; a five-shilling arrow is heavy for a man’s bow, while four-shillings is light. A 28-in. arrow for a 50-℔ bow may weigh four-and-ninepence; a 27-in. arrow four-and-sixpence. This may serve as a rough standard.

Arrows and Nocking.—The parts of the arrow are the shaft, the “nock” or notch, the “pile” or point, and the feathers. The shaft is made of seasoned red deal and can be “self” or “footed.” Most arrows are “footed,” i.e. a piece of hard wood to which the pile is attached is spliced to the deal shaft, which should be perfectly straight and stiff. The shaft comes in several shapes. Most archers prefer the “parallel” pattern, where the shaft is the same size from nock to pile; the next is the “barrelled,” which is thicker in the center and tapers towards the ends. The “bob-tail” shape narrows from the pile to the nock; the “chested” tapers from the middle to the pile. The pile should be cylindrical, not tapering, and “broad-shouldered” where the point begins. The nock is cut square. There are three feathers, with the body feathers of a turkey or peacock being the best choice. They should all curve the same way, measuring about 1½ inches long and ½ inch deep, with the ends near the nock either square or balloon-shaped. The weight of an arrow is its weight in new English silver; a five-shilling arrow is heavy for a man’s bow, while four shillings is light. A 28-inch arrow for a 50-pound bow may weigh four-and-ninepence; a 27-inch arrow four-and-sixpence. This may serve as a rough standard.

Other Implements.—The archer uses finger-tips, or a “tab” of leather, to protect the fingers against the string, and a leather “bracer” to protect the left arm from its blow. Quivers are not now used except by ladies. A special box for carrying bows and arrows about; a proper cupboard, known as an “ascham,” in which they may be kept at home in a dry, even temperature, not too hot; and a baize or leather case for use on the ground, are important minor articles of equipment.

Other Implements.—The archer uses finger protectors, or a “tab” made of leather, to shield their fingers from the string, and a leather “bracer” to guard the left arm from its impact. Quivers are rarely used these days, except by women. A special box for carrying bows and arrows; a proper cupboard, known as an “ascham,” for keeping them at home in a dry, stable environment that isn’t too hot; and a baize or leather case for use on the ground are important smaller pieces of equipment.

Targets, Scoring and Handicapping.—The targets, 4 ft. in diameter, are made of straw 3 to 4 in. thick, and are supported sloping slightly backwards by an iron stand. The faces are of floor-cloth painted with concentric rings, 445 in. each in breadth. The outer ring, white, counts one point; the next, black, three; the next, blue, five; the next, red, seven; and the next, gold—a complete circle of 445 in. radius—nine. The exact centre of the gold is called the “pin-hole.” The targets are set up in pairs, facing each other, the distances for men being 100, 80 and 60 yds.; for ladies, 60 and 50; for convenience, 5 yds. are added to allow for a shooting-line that distance in front of each target. The centre of the gold should be 4 ft. from the ground. Each archer shoots three arrows—an “end”—at one target; they then cross over and mark the scores. If an arrow cuts two rings, the archer is credited with the value of the higher one. In matches a “York Round” or a “St George’s Round” is usually shot by men, the former consisting of 144 arrows, 72 at 100 yds., 48 at 80 yds., and 24 at 60 yds., the latter of 36 arrows at each of these distances. One York Round only is shot on a day; a double York Round is shot, one on each day, at the more important meetings. Ladies usually shoot the “National Round” of 48 arrows at 60 yds. and 24 at 50 yds. At most meetings the prizes are awarded on the gross scores; at others, including the Championship meeting, on points, two points for the highest score on the round and two for most hits on the round, one point each for highest score and most hits at each of the three ranges, ten points in all. Ladies’ scores are calculated similarly. To decide the Championship, the Grand National Archery Society passed a rule in 1894 that “The Champion prizes shall be awarded to the archer gaining the greatest number of points, provided that those for gross hits or gross score are included; any points won by other archers shall be redistributed among those gaining the points for gross hits or gross score.” Handicapping may be done by “rings,” the winner of a first prize not being allowed to count “whites” at subsequent meetings, and “blacks” and “blues” being lost for further successes. Better methods are (1) to deduct a percentage from the gross score of successful shooters, (2) to handicap by points, as in other pastimes, or (3) to rate a shooter according to the average of his last year’s performances, re-rating him monthly, or at convenient intervals, the system being to add his average of the current year to his average of last year, and divide the sum by two to form his new rating.

Targets, Scoring and Handicapping.—The targets, 4 feet in diameter, are made of straw that's 3 to 4 inches thick, and they’re supported at a slight backward angle by an iron stand. The faces are covered with painted floor-cloth showing concentric rings, 4¾ inches each in width. The outer ring, which is white, counts as one point; the next, black, is three points; the next, blue, is five points; the next, red, is seven points; and the gold ring—a complete circle with a radius of 4¾ inches—counts as nine points. The exact center of the gold is known as the “pin-hole.” The targets are set up in pairs facing each other, with the distances for men at 100, 80, and 60 yards; for women, at 60 and 50 yards; for convenience, an additional 5 yards is added to allow for a shooting line placed that distance in front of each target. The center of the gold should be 4 feet from the ground. Each archer shoots three arrows—an “end”—at one target; then they switch positions and mark their scores. If an arrow hits two rings, the archer is credited with the value of the higher ring. In matches, men usually shoot a “York Round” or a “St George’s Round,” with the former consisting of 144 arrows (72 at 100 yards, 48 at 80 yards, and 24 at 60 yards), and the latter comprising 36 arrows at each distance. Only one York Round is shot in a day; a double York Round is conducted at more significant events, one round each day. Women typically shoot the “National Round,” which consists of 48 arrows at 60 yards and 24 at 50 yards. At most competitions, prizes are awarded based on gross scores; at others, including the Championship meeting, scores are awarded on points, with two points for the highest score overall and two for the most hits, plus one point each for the highest score and most hits at each of the three distances, totaling ten points. Women’s scores are calculated similarly. To determine the Championship, the Grand National Archery Society established a rule in 1894 stating, “The Champion prizes shall be awarded to the archer with the highest number of points, provided those from gross hits or gross scores are included; any points won by other archers will be redistributed among those who achieved points for gross hits or gross scores.” Handicapping can be done by using “rings”—the winner of a first prize cannot count “whites” at future meetings, and “blacks” and “blues” cannot be counted for further wins. More effective methods include (1) deducting a percentage from the gross score of successful shooters, (2) applying points handicapping like in other sports, or (3) rating shooters based on their average performance from the previous year, updating it monthly or at convenient intervals. This system adds the current year’s average to the previous year’s average and divides the total by two to create a new rating.

Clout and Long Distance Shooting.—This form of archery is chiefly supported by the Woodmen of Arden and the Royal Company. At 100 yds., the target (smaller by 4 in. than the usual one, but with an inner white circle instead of the blue) is set up against a butt only 18 in. from the ground, but for nine-score, ten-score, and twelve-score shooting it is a white target, 2 ft. 6 in. in diameter, with a black centre. The target, the centre and the arrow that hits the centre are each known as a “clout.” Hits and misses are signalled by a marker stationed, rather perilously, by the side of the butt. The target is sloped backwards to an angle of 60°, with rings marked round it on the ground at distances of 1½ ft., 3 ft., 6 ft. and 9 ft., a hit in the outer ring counting one, and in the next two, and so on, the clout or centre counting six. For the longer ranges lighter arrows are used. The Scottish clout was a piece of canvas, stretched on a frame; the range 180 or 200 yds.; all arrows counted one that were within 24 ft. of the target, the clout counting two. Modern archers have paid scant attention to mere distance-shooting, which is an art of its own, but their experiments prove that with a fairly heavy bow, say 60 ℔ or 63 ℔, and a long light arrow, known as a “flight arrow,” a good archer should be able to reach 300 or 310 yds. With a heavier bow, properly under control, 50 or 60 yds. might be added to this by a strong man. These experiments seem to be verified by a quotation from Shakespeare (Henry IV. Act iii. Sc. 2): “A’ would have clapped i’ the clout and twelve score, and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half,” i.e. 280 or 290 yds. Instances are recorded of Englishmen shooting 340 and 360 yds., but in 1795 Mahmoud Effendi of the Turkish embassy shot 482 yds. with a Turkish bow, and Sultan Selim 972. The Turk, however, used a Turkish bow and a 14-in. arrow, with a grooved rest on his left arm along which the arrow passed, to compensate for the difference between the draw of the bow and the shortness of the arrow. The diplomatist’s shot is supported by good evidence, but the sultan’s is regarded as improbable at least.

Clout and Long Distance Shooting.—This type of archery is mainly supported by the Woodmen of Arden and the Royal Company. At 100 yards, the target (which is 4 inches smaller than the usual one, but has an inner white circle instead of blue) is set up against a butt only 18 inches off the ground. For 180, 200, and 240 yards shooting, the target is a white circle 2 feet 6 inches in diameter with a black center. The target, the center, and the arrow that hits the center are all called a “clout.” Hits and misses are indicated by a marker stationed somewhat precariously by the side of the butt. The target is tilted back at a 60° angle, with rings marked on the ground at distances of 1.5 feet, 3 feet, 6 feet, and 9 feet. A hit in the outer ring counts for one point, in the next ring for two, and so on, with the clout or center counting six. For longer distances, lighter arrows are used. The Scottish clout was a piece of canvas stretched on a frame; the range was 180 or 200 yards; all arrows within 24 feet of the target counted one, and the clout counted two. Modern archers have paid little attention to just distance shooting, which is its own art, but their experiments show that with a reasonably heavy bow, like 60 lbs or 63 lbs, and a long light arrow called a “flight arrow,” a good archer should be able to reach 300 or 310 yards. A stronger person with a heavier bow that is well controlled might add 50 or 60 yards to this distance. These experiments are backed up by a quote from Shakespeare (Henry IV. Act iii. Sc. 2): “A’ would have clapped i’ the clout and twelve score, and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half,” i.e. 280 or 290 yards. There are reports of Englishmen shooting 340 and 360 yards, but in 1795, Mahmoud Effendi from the Turkish embassy shot 482 yards with a Turkish bow, and Sultan Selim shot 972. However, the Turk used a Turkish bow and a 14-inch arrow, with a grooved rest on his left arm for the arrow to slide along, compensating for the difference between the bow's draw length and the short arrow. The diplomat’s shot is well-supported by evidence, but the sultan’s is considered at least improbable.

Championship and Scores.—The British championship meetings, instituted in 1844, are conducted under the laws of the Grand National Archery Society: the prizes, apart from the Challenge prizes, are given in money, there being also a rule that any one who makes three golds at one end receives a shilling from all others of the same sex who are shooting. The most notable champion was Horace A. Ford (d. 1880), who held the title for eleven consecutive years, 1849 to 1859 inclusive, and again in 1867. He made a four-figure score at four other championship meetings, his highest, 1251 (in 1857) for 245 hits being unapproached. To him the modern scientific practice of archery must largely be attributed, together with its improvement and its popularity. The names of G. Edwards, Major C. Hawkins Fisher, H.H. Palairet, C.E. Nesham, and G.E.S. Fryer, are also notable as champions. Among ladies Mrs Horniblow was champion for eleven years between 1852 and 1881, Miss Legh for nineteen years between 1880 and 1908; Mrs Piers Legh, Miss Betham and Mrs Bowly claim the title on four occasions. Mrs Bowly’s score of 823 (1894) was the highest made for the championship till Miss Legh made 825 with 143 hits—only one arrow missed altogether—in 1898; beating her own record with a score of 841 (143 hits) in 1904. It should not be forgotten that as the championship is awarded by points, the highest score does not necessarily win.

Championship and Scores.—The British championship meetings, started in 1844, are held according to the rules of the Grand National Archery Society: the prizes, aside from the Challenge prizes, are given in cash, and there’s a rule that anyone who scores three golds at one end gets a shilling from all the other participants of the same gender. The most famous champion was Horace A. Ford (d. 1880), who held the title for eleven straight years, from 1849 to 1859, and then again in 1867. He achieved a four-figure score at four other championship meetings, with his highest score of 1251 (in 1857) for 245 hits remaining unmatched. He is largely credited with the modern scientific practice of archery, along with its development and growth in popularity. Other notable champions include G. Edwards, Major C. Hawkins Fisher, H.H. Palairet, C.E. Nesham, and G.E.S. Fryer. Among women, Mrs. Horniblow was champion for eleven years between 1852 and 1881, Miss Legh for nineteen years between 1880 and 1908; Mrs. Piers Legh, Miss Betham, and Mrs. Bowly have each claimed the title four times. Mrs. Bowly’s score of 823 (1894) was the highest for the championship until Miss Legh scored 825 with 143 hits—only one arrow missed—in 1898; she later broke her own record with a score of 841 (143 hits) in 1904. It’s important to note that since the championship is determined by points, the highest score doesn’t always guarantee a win.

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See Roger Ascham, Toxophilus (1545), edited by Edward Arber (London, 1868); The Arte of Warre, by William Garrard (London 1591); The Arte of Archerie, by Gervase Markham (London, 1634); Ancient and Modern Methods of Arrow Release, by E.S. Morse (1885); The English Bowman, by T. Roberts (London, 1801); A Treatise on Archery, by Thomas Waring (London, 9th ed., 1832); The Theory and Practice of Archery, by Horace A. Ford (new ed., London, 1887); Archery, by C.J. Longman and H. Walrond (Badminton Library, London, 1894).

See Roger Ascham, Toxophilus (1545), edited by Edward Arber (London, 1868); The Arte of Warre, by William Garrard (London 1591); The Arte of Archerie, by Gervase Markham (London, 1634); Ancient and Modern Methods of Arrow Release, by E.S. Morse (1885); The English Bowman, by T. Roberts (London, 1801); A Treatise on Archery, by Thomas Waring (London, 9th ed., 1832); The Theory and Practice of Archery, by Horace A. Ford (new ed., London, 1887); Archery, by C.J. Longman and H. Walrond (Badminton Library, London, 1894).

(W. J. F.)

ARCHES, COURT OF, the English ecclesiastical court of appeal of the archbishop of Canterbury, as metropolitan of the province of Canterbury, from all the consistory and commissary courts in the province. It derives its name from its ancient place of judicature, which was in the church of Beata Maria de Arcubus—St Mary-le-Bow or St Mary of the Arches, “by reason of the steeple thereof raised at the top with stone pillars in fashion like a bow bent archwise.” This parish was the chief of thirteen locally situated within the diocese of London but exempt from the bishop’s jurisdiction, and it was no doubt owing to this circumstance that it was selected originally as the place of judicature for the archbishop’s court. The proper designation of the judge is official principal of the Arches court, but by custom he came to be styled the dean of the Arches, a title belonging formerly to the chief official of the subordinate court. Originally, the official principal exercised metropolitan jurisdiction, while the dean of the Arches exercised the “peculiar” jurisdiction. The jurisdictions called “peculiars” at one time numbered nearly 300 in England. They were originally introduced by the pope for the purpose of curtailing the bishop’s legitimate authority within his diocese; “an object which,” says Phillimore, “they certainly attained, to the great confusion of ecclesiastical jurisdiction for many years.” The dean of the Arches originally had jurisdiction over the thirteen London parishes above mentioned, but as the official principal was often absent as ambassador on the continent, he became his substitute, and gradually the two offices were blended together. The original office of the dean of the Arches may now be regarded as extinct, though the title is still popularly used, for no dean of the Arches has been appointed eo nomine for several centuries, and by an act of 1838 bishops have jurisdiction over all peculiars within their diocese. The judge of the Arches court was until 1874 appointed by the archbishop of Canterbury by patent which, when confirmed by the dean and chapter of Canterbury, conferred the office for the life of the holder. He took the oaths of office required by the 127th canon. But by the Public Worship Regulation Act 1874 the two archbishops were empowered, subject to the approval of the sovereign by sign-manual, from time to time to appoint a practising barrister of ten years’ standing, or a person who had been a judge of one of the superior courts (being a member of the Church of England) to be, during good behaviour, a judge for the purpose of exercising jurisdiction under that act, and it was enacted (sec. 7) that on a vacancy occurring in the office of official principal of the Arches court the judge should become ex officio such official principal. In this way the late Lord Penzance became dean on the retirement of Sir Robert Phillimore in 1875. Lord Penzance received in 1878 a supplemental patent as dean from Archbishop Tait, but did not otherwise fulfil the conditions observed on the appointment of his predecessors. On Lord Penzance’s retirement in 1899, his successor, Sir Arthur Charles, received a patent from the archbishop of Canterbury as official principal of the Arches court, and he took the oaths of office according to the practice before the Public Worship Regulation Act. He was subsequently and separately appointed judge under that act. Sir A. Charles resigned in 1903 and was succeeded by Sir L.T. Dibdin, who qualified in the same way as his immediate predecessor. The official principal of the Arches court is the only ecclesiastical judge who is empowered to pass a sentence of deprivation against a clerk in holy orders. The appeals from the decisions of the Arches court were formerly made to the king in chancery, but they are now by statute addressed to the king in council, and they are heard before the judicial committee of the privy council. By an act of Henry VIII. (Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction Act 1532) the Arches court is empowered to hear, in the first instance, such suits as are sent up to it by letters of request from the consistorial courts of the bishops of the province of Canterbury, and by the Church Discipline Act 1840, this jurisdiction is continued to it, and it is further empowered to accept letters of request from the bishops of the province of Canterbury after they have issued commissions of inquiry under that statute, and the commissioners have made their report.

Court of Arches the English church court that hears appeals from the archbishop of Canterbury, as the metropolitan of the province of Canterbury, for all the consistory and commissary courts in the province. Its name comes from its historical location in the church of Beata Maria de Arcubus—St Mary-le-Bow or St Mary of the Arches, named "because of the steeple raised at the top with stone pillars shaped like a bent arch." This parish was the main one among thirteen located within the diocese of London that were exempt from the bishop’s authority, which likely explains why it was chosen as the original court for the archbishop. The official title of the judge is the official principal of the Arches court, but out of custom, he is often referred to as the dean of the Arches, a title that previously belonged to the chief official of a lower court. Initially, the official principal held metropolitan authority, while the dean of the Arches had "peculiar" authority. At one point, there were nearly 300 jurisdictions referred to as "peculiars" in England. These were introduced by the pope to limit the bishop’s legitimate power within his diocese; “an object which,” says Phillimore, “they certainly achieved, to the great confusion of ecclesiastical jurisdiction for many years.” The dean of the Arches had authority over the thirteen mentioned London parishes, but since the official principal was often away as ambassador in Europe, he became the substitute, and gradually, the two roles merged. The original position of the dean of the Arches is now seen as extinct, although the title is still commonly used, as no dean of the Arches has been appointed eo nomine for several centuries. An act from 1838 granted bishops jurisdiction over all peculiars within their diocese. Until 1874, the judge of the Arches court was appointed by the archbishop of Canterbury through a patent, which, once confirmed by the dean and chapter of Canterbury, granted the office for the lifetime of the holder. He took the oaths of office required by the 127th canon. However, the Public Worship Regulation Act 1874 allowed the two archbishops to appoint a practicing barrister with ten years of experience, or someone who had served as a judge in one of the superior courts (identifying as a member of the Church of England), to serve as a judge for exercising jurisdiction under that act. It was specified (sec. 7) that if a vacancy occurred in the official principal of the Arches court, the judge would automatically become the official principal. This led to the late Lord Penzance becoming the dean after Sir Robert Phillimore retired in 1875. Lord Penzance received a supplemental patent as dean from Archbishop Tait in 1878 but did not fulfil the conditions previously observed for his predecessors’ appointments. When Lord Penzance retired in 1899, his successor, Sir Arthur Charles, received a patent from the archbishop of Canterbury as official principal of the Arches court and took the oaths of office as had been practiced before the Public Worship Regulation Act. He was later separately appointed as a judge under that act. Sir A. Charles resigned in 1903 and was succeeded by Sir L.T. Dibdin, who qualified in the same manner as his immediate predecessor. The official principal of the Arches court is the only ecclesiastical judge authorized to impose a sentence of deprivation against a clerk in holy orders. Appeals from the Arches court's decisions were previously made to the king in chancery, but they are now addressed by law to the king in council and are heard by the judicial committee of the privy council. Through an act from Henry VIII (Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction Act 1532), the Arches court has the authority to hear, in the first instance, cases sent to it by letters of request from the consistorial courts of the bishops in the province of Canterbury. The Church Discipline Act 1840 continued this authority, also empowering it to accept letters of request from the bishops of Canterbury after they have issued inquiries under that statute and the commissioners have submitted their reports.

The Arches court was also the court of appeal from the consistory courts of the bishops of the province in all testamentary and matrimonial causes. The matrimonial jurisdiction was transferred to the crown by the Matrimonial Causes Act 1857. Under the Clergy Discipline Act 1892 an appeal lies from the judgment of a consistory court under that act, in respect of fact by leave of the appellate court, and in respect of law without leave, to either the Arches court or the judicial committee of the privy council at the option of the appellant. Under the Benefices Act 1898 the official principal of the archbishop is required to institute a presentee to a benefice if the tribunal constituted under that act decides that there is no valid ground for refusing institution and the bishop of the diocese notwithstanding fails to institute him. After the College of Advocates was incorporated and had established itself in Doctors’ Commons, the archbishop’s court of appeal, as well as his prerogative court, were usually held in the hall of the College of Advocates, but after the destruction of the buildings of the college, the court of appeal held its sittings, for the most part, in Westminster Hall. For many years past there has been but little business in the Arches court, mainly owing to the unwillingness of a large number of the clergy to recognize the jurisdiction of what they deny to be any longer a spiritual court, and the consistent use by the bishops of their right of veto in the case of prosecutions under the Public Worship Regulation Act. On the rare occasions when a sitting of the court is necessary, it is held in the library of Lambeth Palace, or at the Church House, Westminster.

The Arches court was also the appeals court for the consistory courts run by the bishops in the province regarding all matters related to wills and marriage. The power over marriage cases was given to the crown by the Matrimonial Causes Act of 1857. According to the Clergy Discipline Act of 1892, appeals can be made from the decisions of a consistory court concerning facts with permission from the appeals court, and regarding legal matters without permission, to either the Arches court or the judicial committee of the privy council, depending on the choice of the appellant. Under the Benefices Act of 1898, the official representative of the archbishop must appoint someone to a benefice if the tribunal created under that act decides there is no valid reason to refuse the appointment, and if the bishop of the diocese fails to do so. Following the establishment of the College of Advocates in Doctors’ Commons, the archbishop’s appeals court, as well as his prerogative court, was generally held in the hall of the College of Advocates. However, after the college's buildings were destroyed, the appeals court mostly held its sessions in Westminster Hall. For many years, there has been very little business in the Arches court, primarily because many clergy members do not recognize its authority, viewing it as no longer a spiritual court, and due to bishops consistently exercising their right to veto prosecutions under the Public Worship Regulation Act. On the rare occasions that a court session is needed, it takes place in the library of Lambeth Palace or at Church House, Westminster.


ARCHESTRATUS, of Syracuse or Gela, a Greek poet, who flourished about 330 B.C. After travelling extensively in search of foreign delicacies for the table, he embodied the result in a humorous poem called Ήδυπάθεια, afterwards freely translated by Ennius under the title Heduphagetica. About 300 lines of this gastronomical poem are preserved in Athenaeus. The writer, who has been styled the Hesiod or Theognis of gluttons, parodies the style of the old gnomic poets; chief attention is paid to details concerning fish.

ARCHESTRATUS, of Syracuse or Gela, was a Greek poet who lived around 330 B.C.. After traveling extensively to find unique dishes for the table, he captured his experiences in a humorous poem titled Pleasure, which was later translated by Ennius under the name Heduphagetica. About 300 lines of this food-related poem are preserved in Athenaeus. The writer, often referred to as the Hesiod or Theognis of food lovers, parodies the style of ancient gnomic poets, focusing mainly on details about fish.

Ribbeck, Archestrati Reliquiae (1877); Brandt, Corpusculum Poesis Epicae Graecae ludibundae, i. 1888; Schmid, De Archestrati Gelensis Fragmentis (1896).

Ribbeck, Archestrati Reliquiae (1877); Brandt, Corpusculum Poesis Epicae Graecae ludibundae, i. 1888; Schmid, De Archestrati Gelensis Fragmentis (1896).


ARCHIAC, ÉTIENNE JULES ADOLPHE DESMIER DE SAINT SIMON, Vicomte D’ (1802-1868), French geologist and palaeontologist, was born at Reims on the 24th of September 1802. He was educated in the Military School of St Cyr, and served for nine years as a cavalry officer until 1830, when he retired from the service. Prior to this he had published an historical romance; but now geology came to occupy his chief attention. In his earlier scientific works, which date from 1835, he described the Tertiary and Cretaceous formations of France, Belgium and England, and dealt especially with the distribution of fossils geographically and in sequence. Later on he investigated the Carboniferous, Devonian and Silurian formations. His great work, Histoire des progrès de la géologie, 1834-1859, was published in 8 volumes at Paris (1847-1860). In 1853 the Wollaston Medal of the Geological Society was awarded to him. In the same year, with Jules Haime (1824-1856), he published a monograph on the Nummulitic formation of India. In 1857 he was elected a member of the Academy of Sciences, and in 1861 he was appointed professor of palaeontology in the Muséum d’Histoire Naturelle in Paris. Of later works his Paléontologie stratigraphique, in 3 vols. (1864-1865); his Géologie et paléontologie (1866); and his palaeontological contributions to de Tchihatcheff’s Asie mineure (1866), may be specially mentioned.

ARCHIAC, ÉTIENNE JULES ADOLPHE DESMIER DE SAINT SIMON, Vicomte D’ (1802-1868), a French geologist and paleontologist, was born in Reims on September 24, 1802. He was educated at the Military School of St Cyr and served as a cavalry officer for nine years until 1830, when he retired. Before this, he had published a historical romance, but geology soon became his main focus. In his early scientific works, starting from 1835, he described the Tertiary and Cretaceous formations of France, Belgium, and England, particularly examining the geographical and sequential distribution of fossils. Later, he researched the Carboniferous, Devonian, and Silurian formations. His major work, Histoire des progrès de la géologie, published in 8 volumes in Paris between 1847 and 1860, spanned from 1834 to 1859. In 1853, he received the Wollaston Medal from the Geological Society. That same year, he co-published a monograph on the Nummulitic formation of India with Jules Haime (1824-1856). In 1857, he was elected a member of the Academy of Sciences, and in 1861 he was appointed professor of paleontology at the Muséum d’Histoire Naturelle in Paris. Among his later works, Paléontologie stratigraphique in 3 volumes (1864-1865), Géologie et paléontologie (1866), and his paleontological contributions to de Tchihatcheff’s Asie mineure (1866) are particularly noteworthy.

He died on the 24th of December 1868.

He died on December 24, 1868.

See Notice sur les travaux scientifiques du vicomte d’Archiac, par A. Gaudry (Meulan, 1874); Extrait du Bull. Soc. Géol. de France, ser. 3, t. ii. p. 230 (1874).

See Notice sur les travaux scientifiques du vicomte d’Archiac, by A. Gaudry (Meulan, 1874); Extrait du Bull. Soc. Géol. de France, ser. 3, t. ii. p. 230 (1874).


367

367

ARCHIAS, AULUS LICINIUS, Greek poet, was born at Antioch in Syria 120 B.C. In 102, his reputation having been already established, especially as an improvisatore, he came to Rome, where he was well received amongst the highest and most influential families. His chief patron was Lucullus, whose gentile name he assumed. In 93 he visited Sicily with his patron, on which occasion he received the citizenship of Heracleia, one of the federate towns, and indirectly, by the provisions of the lex Plautia Papiria, that of Rome. In 61 he was accused by a certain Gratius of having assumed the citizenship illegally; and Cicero successfully defended him in his speech Pro Archia. This speech, which furnishes nearly all the information concerning Archias, states that he had celebrated the deeds of Marius and Lucullus in the Cimbrian and Mithradatic wars, and that he was engaged upon a poem of which the events of Cicero’s consulship formed the subject. The Greek Anthology contains thirty-five epigrams under the name of Archias, but it is doubtful how many of these (if any) are the work of the poet of Antioch.

ARCHIAS, AULUS LICINIUS, Greek poet, was born in Antioch, Syria, in 120 BCE By 102, he had already built a reputation, especially as an improvisational poet, and he moved to Rome, where he was welcomed by the top and most influential families. His main supporter was Lucullus, whose family name he adopted. In 93, he accompanied his patron to Sicily, during which he was granted citizenship in Heracleia, one of the allied towns, and indirectly, through the provisions of the lex Plautia Papiria, citizenship in Rome. In 61, he was accused by a man named Gratius of having obtained citizenship unlawfully; however, Cicero defended him successfully in his speech Pro Archia. This speech, which provides almost all the details about Archias, mentions that he celebrated the achievements of Marius and Lucullus in the Cimbrian and Mithradatic wars and that he was working on a poem about the events of Cicero's consulship. The Greek Anthology includes thirty-five epigrams attributed to Archias, but it's uncertain how many of these (if any) were actually written by the poet from Antioch.

Cicero, Pro Archia; T. Reinach, De Archia Poeta (1890).

Cicero, Pro Archia; T. Reinach, De Archia Poeta (1890).


ARCHIDAMUS, the name of five kings of Sparta, of the Eurypontid house.

ARCHIDAMUS, the name of five kings of Sparta, from the Eurypontid family.

1. The son and successor of Anaxidamus. His reign, which began soon after the close of the second Messenian War, is said to have been quiet and uneventful (Pausanias iii. 7. 6).

1. The son and successor of Anaxidamus. His reign, which started soon after the end of the second Messenian War, is described as calm and uneventful (Pausanias iii. 7. 6).

2. The son of Zeuxidamus, reigned 476-427 B.C. (but see Leotychides). He succeeded his grandfather Leotychides upon the banishment of the latter, his father having already died. His coolness and presence of mind are said to have saved the Spartan state from destruction on the occasion of the great earthquake of 464 (Diodorus xi. 63; Plutarch, Cimon, 16), but this story must be regarded as at least doubtful. He was a friend of Pericles and a man of prudence and moderation. During the negotiations which preceded the Peloponnesian War he did his best to prevent, or at least to postpone, the inevitable struggle, but was overruled by the war party. He invaded Attica at the head of the Peloponnesian forces in the summers of 431, 430 and 428, and in 429 conducted operations against Plataea. He died probably in 427, certainly before the summer of 426, when we find his son Agis on the throne.

2. The son of Zeuxidamus reigned from 476 to 427 BCE (but see Leotychides). He took over from his grandfather Leotychides after the latter was banished, and his father had already died. His calm demeanor and quick thinking are said to have saved the Spartan state from disaster during the major earthquake of 464 (Diodorus xi. 63; Plutarch, Cimon, 16), but this tale should be viewed with skepticism. He was a friend of Pericles and was known for his wisdom and restraint. During the talks that led up to the Peloponnesian War, he tried hard to stop, or at least delay, the unavoidable conflict, but he was outvoted by the pro-war faction. He led the Peloponnesian forces into Attica in the summers of 431, 430, and 428, and in 429 he managed operations against Plataea. He likely died in 427, certainly before the summer of 426, when his son Agis ascended to the throne.

Herod, vi. 71; Thuc. i. 79-iii. 1; Plut. Pericles, 29. 33; Diodorus xi. 48-xii. 52.

Herodotus, vi. 71; Thucydides, i. 79-iii. 1; Plutarch, Pericles, 29. 33; Diodorus, xi. 48-xii. 52.

3. The son and successor of Agesilaus II., reigned 360-338 B.C. During his father’s later years he proved himself a brave and capable officer. In 371 he led the relief force which was sent to aid the survivors of the battle of Leuctra. Four years later he captured Caryae, ravaged the territory of the Parrhasii and defeated the Arcadians, Argives and Messenians in the “tearless battle,” so called because the victory did not cost the Spartans a single life. In 364, however, he sustained a severe reverse in attempting to relieve a besieged Spartan garrison at Cromnus in south-western Arcadia. He showed great heroism in the defence of Sparta against Epaminondas immediately before the battle of Mantineia (362). He supported the Phocians during the Sacred War (355-346), moved, no doubt, largely by the hatred of Thebes which he had inherited from his father; he also led the Spartan forces in the conflicts with the Thebans and their allies which arose out of the Spartan attempt to break up the city of Megalopolis. Finally he was sent with a mercenary army to Italy to protect the Tarentines against the attacks of Lucanians or Messapians; he fell together with the greater part of his force at Mandonion1 on the same day as that on which the battle of Chaeronea was fought.

3. The son and successor of Agesilaus II reigned from 360 to 338 BCE During his father's later years, he proved to be a brave and capable officer. In 371, he led the relief force sent to help the survivors of the battle of Leuctra. Four years later, he captured Caryae, devastated the territory of the Parrhasii, and defeated the Arcadians, Argives, and Messenians in the “tearless battle,” named because the victory didn’t cost the Spartans a single life. However, in 364, he faced a severe setback while trying to rescue a besieged Spartan garrison at Cromnus in south-western Arcadia. He displayed great bravery in defending Sparta against Epaminondas just before the battle of Mantineia (362). He supported the Phocians during the Sacred War (355-346), likely driven by the hatred of Thebes that he inherited from his father; he also led the Spartan forces in conflicts with the Thebans and their allies that arose from Sparta's attempt to dismantle the city of Megalopolis. Ultimately, he was sent with a mercenary army to Italy to defend the Tarentines against attacks from the Lucanians or Messapians; he was killed along with most of his forces at Mandonion1 on the same day the battle of Chaeronea took place.

Xen. Hell. v. 4, vi. 4, vii. 1. 4, 5; Plut. Agis, 3, Camillus, 19, Agesilaus. 25, 33, 34, 40; Pausanias iii. 10, vi. 4; Diodorus xv. 54, 72, xvi. 24, 39, 59, 62, 88.

Xen. Hell. v. 4, vi. 4, vii. 1. 4, 5; Plut. Agis, 3, Camillus, 19, Agesilaus. 25, 33, 34, 40; Pausanias iii. 10, vi. 4; Diodorus xv. 54, 72, xvi. 24, 39, 59, 62, 88.

4. The son of Eudamidas I., grandson of Archidamus III. The dates of his accession and death are unknown. In 294 B.C. he was defeated at Mantineia by Demetrius Poliorcetes, who invaded Laconia, gained a second victory close to Sparta, and was on the point of taking the city itself when he was called away by the news of the successes of Lysimachus and Ptolemy in Asia Minor and Cyprus.

4. The son of Eudamidas I and grandson of Archidamus III. The dates of his rise to power and death are unknown. In 294 BCE, he was defeated at Mantineia by Demetrius Poliorcetes, who invaded Laconia, secured a second victory near Sparta, and was about to seize the city itself when he was interrupted by news of Lysimachus and Ptolemy's successes in Asia Minor and Cyprus.

Plut. Agis, 3, Demetrius, 35; Pausanias, i. 13. 6, vii. 8. 5; Niese, Gesch. der griech. u. makedon. Slaalen, i. 363.

Plut. Agis, 3, Demetrius, 35; Pausanias, i. 13. 6, vii. 8. 5; Niese, Gesch. der griech. u. makedon. Slaalen, i. 363.

5. The son of Eudamidas II., grandson of Archidamus IV., brother of Agis IV. On his brother’s murder he fled to Messenia (241 B.C.). In 227 he was recalled by Cleomenes III., who was then reigning without a colleague, but shortly after his return he was assassinated. Polybius accuses Cleomenes of the murder, but Plutarch is probably right in saying that it was the work of those who had caused the death of Agis, and feared his brother’s vengeance.

5. The son of Eudamidas II, grandson of Archidamus IV, and brother of Agis IV. After his brother was murdered, he escaped to Messenia (241 B.C.). In 227, he was brought back by Cleomenes III, who was ruling alone at the time, but shortly after returning, he was killed. Polybius blames Cleomenes for the murder, but Plutarch is likely correct in suggesting it was carried out by those responsible for Agis's death, who were afraid of his brother’s revenge.

Plutarch, Cleomenes, i. 5; Polybius v. 37, viii. I; Niese, op. cit. ii. 304, 311.

Plutarch, Cleomenes, i. 5; Polybius v. 37, viii. I; Niese, op. cit. ii. 304, 311.

(M. N. T.)

1 So Plut. Agis, 3 (all MSS.). Following Cellarius, some authorities read Manduria or Mandyrium.

1 So Plut. Agis, 3 (all MSS.). Following Cellarius, some sources read Manduria or Mandyrium.


ARCHIL (a corruption of “orchil,” Ital. oricello, the origin of which is unknown), a purple dye obtained from various species of lichens. Archil can be extracted from many species of the genera Roccella, Lecanora, Umbilicaria, Parmelia and others, but in practice two species of RoccellaR. tinctoria and R. fuciformis—are almost exclusively used. These, under the name of “orchella weed” or “dyer’s moss,” are obtained from Angola, on the west coast of Africa, where the most valuable kinds are gathered; from Cape Verde Islands; from Lima, on the west coast of South America; and from the Malabar coast of India. The colouring properties of the lichens do not exist in them ready formed, but are developed by the treatment to which they are subjected. A small proportion of a colourless, crystalline principle, termed orcinol (a dioxytoluene), is found in some, and in all a series of acid substances, erythric, lecanoric acids, &c. Orcinol in presence of oxygen and ammonia takes up nitrogen and becomes changed into a purple substance, orceine (C7H7NO3), which is essentially the basis of all lichen dyes. Two other colouring-matters, azoerythin and erythroleinic acid, are sometimes present. Archil is prepared for the dyer’s use in the form of a “liquor” (archil) and a “paste” (persis), and the latter, when dried and finely powdered, forms the “cudbear” of commerce, a dye formerly manufactured in Scotland from a native lichen, Lecanora tartarea. The manufacturing process consists in washing the weeds, which are then ground up with water to a thick paste. If archil paste is to be made this paste is mixed with a strong ammoniacal solution, and agitated in an iron cylinder heated by steam to about 140° F. till the desired shade is developed—a process which occupies several days. In the preparation of archil liquor the principles which yield the dye are separated from the ligneous tissue of the lichens, agitated with a hot ammoniacal solution, and exposed to the action of air. When potassium or sodium carbonate is added, a blue dye known as litmus, much used as an “indicator,” is produced. French purple or lime lake is a lichen dye prepared by a modification of the archil process, and is a more brilliant and durable colour than the other. The dyeing of worsted and home-spun cloth with lichen dyes was formerly a very common domestic employment in Scotland; and to this day, in some of the outer islands, worsted continues to be dyed with “crottle,” the name given to the lichens employed.

ARCHIL (a variation of “orchil,” Ital. oricello, with an unknown origin) is a purple dye made from various types of lichens. Archil can be extracted from many species of the genera Roccella, Lecanora, Umbilicaria, Parmelia, and others, but in practice, two species of RoccellaR. tinctoria and R. fuciformis—are almost exclusively used. These, known as “orchella weed” or “dyer’s moss,” are sourced from Angola on the west coast of Africa, where the most valuable types are collected; from the Cape Verde Islands; from Lima on the west coast of South America; and from the Malabar coast of India. The dyeing properties of the lichens aren’t present in ready form, but develop through the treatment they undergo. A small amount of a colorless crystalline compound called orcinol (a dioxytoluene) is found in some, and in all are a series of acid substances, including erythric and lecanoric acids, etc. Orcinol, in the presence of oxygen and ammonia, takes up nitrogen and is transformed into orceine (C7H7NO3), which is the foundation of all lichen dyes. Two other coloring agents, azoerythin and erythroleinic acid, may also be present. Archil is prepared for dyers as a “liquor” (archil) and a “paste” (persis), with the latter, when dried and finely ground, becoming the “cudbear” used in trade, a dye that was previously made in Scotland from a local lichen, Lecanora tartarea. The manufacturing process involves washing the lichens, then grinding them with water into a thick paste. If making archil paste, this paste is combined with a strong ammoniacal solution and agitated in a steam-heated iron cylinder at about 140° F until the desired shade is achieved—a process that takes several days. For archil liquor, the components that produce the dye are separated from the fibrous material of the lichens, mixed with a hot ammoniacal solution, and exposed to air. When potassium or sodium carbonate is added, it produces a blue dye known as litmus, commonly used as an “indicator.” French purple or lime lake is a lichen dye made by modifying the archil process and yields a brighter and more durable color than the others. Dyeing worsted and homespun cloth with lichen dyes used to be a common task in Scotland, and to this day, in some outer islands, worsted is still dyed with “crottle,” the name for the lichens used.


ARCHILOCHUS, Greek lyric poet and writer of lampoons, was born at Paros, one of the Cyclades islands. The date of his birth is uncertain, but he probably flourished about 650 B.C.; according to some, about forty years earlier but certainly not before the reign of Gyges (687-652), whom he mentions in a well-known fragment. His father, Telesicles, who was of noble family, had conducted a colony to Thasos, in obedience to the command of the Delphic oracle. To this island Archilochus himself, hard pressed by poverty, afterwards removed. Another reason for leaving his native place was personal disappointment and indignation at the treatment he had received from Lycambes, a citizen of Paros, who had promised him his daughter Neobule in marriage, but had afterwards withdrawn his consent. Archilochus, taking advantage of the licence allowed at the feasts of Demeter, poured out his wounded feelings in unmerciful satire. He accused Lycambes of perjury, and his daughters of leading 368 the most abandoned lives. Such was the effect produced by his verses, that Lycambes and his daughters are said to have hanged themselves. At Thasos the poet passed some unhappy years; his hopes of wealth were disappointed; according to him, Thasos was the meeting-place of the calamities of all Hellas. The inhabitants were frequently involved in quarrels with their neighbours, and in a war against the Saians—a Thracian tribe—he threw away his shield and fled from the field of battle. He does not seem to have felt the disgrace very keenly, for, like Alcaeus and Horace, he commemorates the event in a fragment in which he congratulates himself on having saved his life, and says he can easily procure another shield. After leaving Thasos, he is said to have visited Sparta, but to have been at once banished from that city on account of his cowardice and the licentious character of his works (Valerius Maximus vi. 3, externa 1). He next visited Siris, in lower Italy, a city of which he speaks very favourably. He then returned to his native place, and was slain in a battle against the Naxians by one Calondas or Corax, who was cursed by the oracle for having slain a servant of the Muses.

ARCHILOCHUS, G Greek lyric poet and satirist, was born in Paros, one of the Cyclades islands. The exact date of his birth isn't known, but he likely thrived around 650 BCE; some say about forty years earlier, but certainly not before Gyges’ reign (687-652), whom he references in a well-known fragment. His father, Telesicles, from a noble family, led a colony to Thasos, following the Delphic oracle's command. Archilochus later moved to this island, driven by poverty. Another reason for leaving his home was personal disappointment and anger toward Lycambes, a Paros citizen, who had promised him his daughter Neobule in marriage but later withdrew his consent. During the Demeter festivities, Archilochus expressed his hurt feelings through harsh satire. He accused Lycambes of breaking his word and claimed his daughters led disgraceful lives. The impact of his poems was so strong that it's said Lycambes and his daughters ended their lives. In Thasos, the poet endured some unhappy years; his hopes for wealth remained unfulfilled, and he felt Thasos was the gathering spot for the misfortunes of all Greece. The locals often found themselves in conflicts with their neighbors, and during a war against the Saians—a Thracian tribe—he threw away his shield and ran from the battlefield. He didn't seem to be too bothered by the disgrace, as, like Alcaeus and Horace, he reflects on the incident in a fragment where he cheers himself for surviving and mentions he can easily get another shield. After leaving Thasos, he reportedly went to Sparta but was immediately banished for his cowardice and the provocative nature of his works (Valerius Maximus vi. 3, externa 1). He then traveled to Siris, in lower Italy, a city he described very favorably. Afterward, he returned to his hometown, where he was killed in battle against the Naxians by someone named Calondas or Corax, who was cursed by the oracle for having killed a servant of the Muses.

The writings of Archilochus consisted of elegies, hymns—one of which used to be sung by the victors in the Olympic games (Pindar, Olympia, ix. i)—and of poems in the iambic and trochaic measures. To him certainly we owe the invention of iambic poetry and its application to the purposes of satire. The only previous measures in Greek poetry had been the epic hexameter, and its offshoot the elegiac metre; but the slow measured structure of hexameter verse was utterly unsuited to express the quick, light motions of satire. Archilochus made use of the iambus and the trochee, and organized them into the two forms of metre known as the iambic trimeter and the trochaic tetrameter. The trochaic metre he generally used for subjects of a serious nature; the iambic for satires. He was also the first to make use of the arrangement of verses called the epode. Horace in his metres to a great extent follows Archilochus (Epistles, i. 19. 23-35). All ancient authorities unite in praising the poems of Archilochus, in terms which appear exaggerated (Longinus xiii. 3; Dio Chrysostom, Orationes, xxxiii.; Quintilian x. i. 60; Cicero, Orator, i.). His verses seem certainly to have possessed strength, flexibility, nervous vigour, and, beyond everything else, impetuous vehemence and energy. Horace (Ars Poetica, 79) speaks of the “rage” of Archilochus, and Hadrian calls his verses “raging iambics.” By his countrymen he was reverenced as the equal of Homer, and statues of these two poets were dedicated on the same day.

The writings of Archilochus included elegies and hymns—one of which was sung by the winners of the Olympic games (Pindar, Olympia, ix. i)—as well as poems in iambic and trochaic meters. He is credited with inventing iambic poetry and using it for satire. Before him, Greek poetry mainly featured the epic hexameter and its variation, the elegiac meter; however, the slow, measured structure of hexameter verse was not suitable for the quick, light tone of satire. Archilochus employed the iambus and the trochee, organizing them into the two meter forms known as the iambic trimeter and the trochaic tetrameter. He typically used the trochaic meter for serious subjects and the iambic for satire. He was also the first to use a verse arrangement called the epode. Horace largely follows Archilochus in his meters (Epistles, i. 19. 23-35). All ancient sources praise Archilochus's poems in ways that seem exaggerated (Longinus xiii. 3; Dio Chrysostom, Orationes, xxxiii.; Quintilian x. i. 60; Cicero, Orator, i.). His verses undoubtedly had strength, flexibility, energetic vigor, and especially passionate intensity and power. Horace (Ars Poetica, 79) refers to the “rage” of Archilochus, and Hadrian describes his verses as “raging iambics.” His countrymen respected him as the equal of Homer, and statues of these two poets were dedicated on the same day.

His poems were written in the old Ionic dialect. Fragments in Bergk, Poetae Lyrici Graeci; Liebel, Archilochi Reliquiae (1818); A. Hauvette-Besnault, Archiloque, sa vie et ses poésies (1905).

His poems were written in the ancient Ionic dialect. Fragments can be found in Bergk, Poetae Lyrici Graeci; Liebel, Archilochi Reliquiae (1818); A. Hauvette-Besnault, Archiloque, sa vie et ses poésies (1905).


ARCHIMANDRITE (from Gr. ἄρχων, a ruler, and μάνδρα, a fold or monastery), a title in the Greek Church applied to a superior abbot, who has the supervision of several abbots and monasteries, or to the abbot of some specially great and important monastery, the title for an ordinary abbot being hegumenos. The title occurs for the first time in a letter to Epiphanius, prefixed to his Panarium (c. 375), but the Lausiac History of Palladius may be evidence that it was in common use in the 4th century as applied to Pachomius (q.v.). In Russia the bishops are commonly selected from the archimandrites. The word occurs in the Regula Columbani (c. 7), and du Cange gives a few other cases of its use in Latin documents, but it never came into vogue in the West. Owing to intercourse with Greek and Slavonic Christianity, the title is sometimes to be met with in southern Italy and Sicily, and in Hungary and Poland.

ARCHIMANDRITE (from Gr. ruler, meaning ruler, and pen, meaning fold or monastery) is a title in the Greek Church for a superior abbot who oversees multiple abbots and monasteries or for the abbot of a particularly large and significant monastery. The title for a regular abbot is hegumenos. The term first appears in a letter to Epiphanius, included in his Panarium (c. 375), but the Lausiac History of Palladius suggests it was already in common use in the 4th century in reference to Pachomius (q.v.). In Russia, bishops are often chosen from among the archimandrites. The term appears in the Regula Columbani (c. 7), and du Cange documents a few other instances of its use in Latin texts, but it never became popular in the West. Due to interactions with Greek and Slavonic Christianity, the title can occasionally be found in southern Italy and Sicily, as well as in Hungary and Poland.

See the article in the Dictionnaire d’archéologie chrétienne et de liturgie.

See the article in the Dictionnaire d’archéologie chrétienne et de liturgie.


ARCHIMEDES (c. 287-212 B.C.), Greek mathematician and inventor, was born at Syracuse, in Sicily. He was the son of Pheidias, an astronomer, and was on intimate terms with, if not related to, Hiero, king of Syracuse, and Gelo his son. He studied at Alexandria and doubtless met there Conon of Samos, whom he admired as a mathematician and cherished as a friend, and to whom he was in the habit of communicating his discoveries before publication. On his return to his native city he devoted himself to mathematical research. He himself set no value on the ingenious mechanical contrivances which made him famous, regarding them as beneath the dignity of pure science and even declining to leave any written record of them except in the case of the σφαιροποιἶα (Sphere-making), as to which see below. As, however, these machines impressed the popular imagination, they naturally figure largely in the traditions about him. Thus he devised for Hiero engines of war which almost terrified the Romans, and which protracted the siege of Syracuse for three years. There is a story that he constructed a burning mirror which set the Roman ships on fire when they were within a bowshot of the wall. This has been discredited because it is not mentioned by Polybius, Livy or Plutarch; but it is probable that Archimedes had constructed some such burning instrument, though the connexion of it with the destruction of the Roman fleet is more than doubtful. More important, as being doubtless connected with the discovery of the principle in hydrostatics which bears his name and the foundation by him of that whole science, is the story of Hiero’s reference to him of the question whether a crown made for him and purporting to be of gold, did not actually contain a proportion of silver. According to one story, Archimedes was puzzled till one day, as he was stepping into a bath and observed the water running over, it occurred to him that the excess of bulk occasioned by the introduction of alloy could be measured by putting the crown and an equal weight of gold separately into a vessel filled with water, and observing the difference of overflow. He was so overjoyed when this happy thought struck him that he ran home without his clothes, shouting εὒρηκα, εὒρηκα, “I have found it, I have found it.” Similarly his pioneer work in mechanics is illustrated by the story of his having said δός μοι ποῦ στῶ καὶ κινῶ τὴν γῆν (or as another version has it, in his dialect, πᾶ βῶ καὶ κινῶ τὰν γᾶν), “Give me a place to stand and I (will) move the earth.” Hiero asked him to give an illustration of his contention that a very great weight could be moved by a very small force. He is said to have fixed on a large and fully laden ship and to have used a mechanical device by which Hiero was enabled to move it by himself: but accounts differ as to the particular mechanical powers employed. The water-screw which he invented (see below) was probably devised in Egypt for the purpose of irrigating fields.

ARCHIMEDES (c. 287-212 BCE), a Greek mathematician and inventor, was born in Syracuse, Sicily. He was the son of Pheidias, an astronomer, and had a close relationship with, if not a direct relation to, Hiero, the king of Syracuse, and his son Gelo. He studied in Alexandria and likely met Conon of Samos there, whom he admired as a mathematician and valued as a friend, often sharing his discoveries with him before publishing. Upon returning to his hometown, he dedicated himself to mathematical research. Archimedes did not value the clever mechanical devices that made him famous, considering them beneath the dignity of pure science, and he even chose not to leave any written record of them, except for the σφαιροποιία (Sphere-making), which is discussed below. However, since these machines captured the public's imagination, they naturally feature prominently in the stories about him. For instance, he designed war engines for Hiero that nearly intimidated the Romans and prolonged the siege of Syracuse for three years. There's a tale that he created a burning mirror that ignited Roman ships when they were within bowshot of the wall. This has been questioned because Polybius, Livy, or Plutarch did not mention it; but it's likely that Archimedes did invent some type of burning device, although linking it to the destruction of the Roman fleet is doubtful. More importantly, tied to his name is the story of Hiero asking him whether a crown made for him, which claimed to be made of gold, actually contained any silver. According to one version of the story, Archimedes was puzzled until one day, while stepping into a bath and watching the water overflow, he realized that the amount of water displaced by adding the crown and an equal weight of gold in a vessel would show the difference in overflow caused by any alloy. He was so excited by this insight that he ran home without his clothes, shouting I found it, I found it, “I have found it, I have found it.” His groundbreaking work in mechanics is also demonstrated by the account of him stating Give me a place to stand, and I will move the earth. (or in another version, I can walk and move the earth.), “Give me a place to stand and I will move the Earth.” Hiero challenged him to show that a very heavy weight could be moved by a very small force. He is said to have focused on a large, fully loaded ship and used a mechanical device that allowed Hiero to move it by himself, though different accounts vary regarding the specific mechanical methods used. The water-screw he invented (see below) was likely created in Egypt for the purpose of irrigating fields.

Archimedes died at the capture of Syracuse by Marcellus, 212 B.C. In the general massacre which followed the fall of the city, Archimedes, while engaged in drawing a mathematical figure on the sand, was run through the body by a Roman soldier. No blame attaches to the Roman general, Marcellus, since he had given orders to his men to spare the house and person of the sage; and in the midst of his triumph he lamented the death of so illustrious a person, directed an honourable burial to be given him, and befriended his surviving relatives. In accordance with the expressed desire of the philosopher, his tomb was marked by the figure of a sphere inscribed in a cylinder, the discovery of the relation between the volumes of a sphere and its circumscribing cylinder being regarded by him as his most valuable achievement. When Cicero was quaestor in Sicily (75 B.C.), he found the tomb of Archimedes, near the Agrigentine gate, overgrown with thorns and briers. “Thus,” says Cicero (Tusc. Disp., v. c. 23, § 64), “would this most famous and once most learned city of Greece have remained a stranger to the tomb of one of its most ingenious citizens, had it not been discovered by a man of Arpinum.”

Archimedes died during the capture of Syracuse by Marcellus in 212 B.C. In the general massacre that followed the city's fall, Archimedes was killed by a Roman soldier while he was drawing a mathematical figure in the sand. The Roman general, Marcellus, is not to blame, as he had ordered his men to spare both the philosopher and his home. Amidst his victory, Marcellus mourned the loss of such a remarkable figure, arranged for a respectful burial, and took care of Archimedes's surviving family. According to the philosopher's wishes, his tomb was marked by the figure of a sphere inscribed in a cylinder, as he considered the discovery of the relationship between the volumes of a sphere and its circumscribing cylinder to be his greatest achievement. When Cicero was quaestor in Sicily (75 B.C.), he found Archimedes's tomb near the Agrigentine gate, covered in thorns and brambles. “Thus,” Cicero says (Tusc. Disp., v. c. 23, § 64), “this once great and knowledgeable city of Greece would have remained unaware of the tomb of one of its most brilliant citizens had it not been discovered by a man from Arpinum.”

Works.—The range and importance of the scientific labours of Archimedes will be best understood from a brief account of those writings which have come down to us; and it need only be added that his greatest work was in geometry, where he so extended the method of exhaustion as originated by Eudoxus, and followed by Euclid, that it became in his hands, though purely geometrical in form, actually equivalent in several cases to integration, as expounded in the first chapters of our text-books on the integral calculus. This remark applies to the finding of the area of a parabolic segment (mechanical solution) and of a spiral, the surface and volume of a sphere and of a segment thereof, and the volume of any segments of the solids of revolution of the second degree.

Works.—The range and significance of Archimedes' scientific contributions can be fully appreciated through a brief overview of the writings that have survived. It's important to note that his greatest achievements were in geometry, where he greatly advanced the method of exhaustion, originally developed by Eudoxus and later followed by Euclid. In Archimedes' hands, this method, while purely geometric in nature, became equivalent in several instances to integration, as described in the first chapters of our integral calculus textbooks. This observation applies to calculating the area of a parabolic segment (mechanical solution), the area of a spiral, and both the surface and volume of a sphere and its segments, as well as the volume of any segments of solids of revolution of the second degree.

The extant treatises are as follows:—

The current documents are as follows:—

(1) On the Sphere and Cylinder (Περὶ σφαίρας καὶ κυλίνδρου). This treatise is in two books, dedicated to Dositheus, and deals 369 with the dimensions of spheres, cones, “solid rhombi” and cylinders, all demonstrated in a strictly geometrical method. The first book contains forty-four propositions, and those in which the most important results are finally obtained are: 13 (surface of right cylinder), 14, 15 (surface of right cone), 33 (surface of sphere), 34 (volume of sphere and its relation to that of circumscribing cylinder), 42, 43 (surface of segment of sphere), 44 (volume of sector of sphere). The second book is in nine propositions, eight of which deal with segments of spheres and include the problems of cutting a given sphere by a plane so that (a) the surfaces, (b) the volumes, of the segments are in a given ratio (Props. 3, 4), and of constructing a segment of a sphere similar to one given segment and having (a) its volume, (b) its surface, equal to that of another (5, 6).

(1) On the Sphere and Cylinder (About sphere and cylinder). This work is divided into two books, dedicated to Dositheus, and focuses on the dimensions of spheres, cones, “solid rhombi,” and cylinders, all presented using a strictly geometric approach. The first book contains forty-four propositions, with the key results found in: 13 (surface area of a right cylinder), 14, 15 (surface area of a right cone), 33 (surface area of a sphere), 34 (volume of a sphere and its relationship to that of an enclosing cylinder), 42, 43 (surface area of a segment of a sphere), 44 (volume of a sector of a sphere). The second book has nine propositions, eight of which concern segments of spheres and include the problems of slicing a given sphere with a plane so that (a) the surface areas, (b) the volumes, of the segments are in a specified ratio (Props. 3, 4), and of constructing a segment of a sphere similar to one given segment and having (a) its volume, (b) its surface area, equal to that of another (5, 6).

(2) The Measurement of the Circle (Κύκλου μέτρησις) is a short book of three propositions, the main result being obtained in Prop. 2, which shows that the circumference of a circle is less than 317 and greater than 31071 times its diameter. Inscribing in and circumscribing about a circle two polygons, each of ninety-six sides, and assuming that the perimeter of the circle lay between those of the polygons, he obtained the limits he has assigned by sheer calculation, starting from two close approximations to the value of √3, which he assumes as known (265/153 < √3 < 1351/780).

(2) The Measurement of the Circle (Measurement of a circle) is a brief book consisting of three propositions, with the main conclusion reached in Prop. 2, which demonstrates that the circumference of a circle is less than 317 and greater than 31071 times its diameter. By inscribing and circumscribing a circle with two polygons, each having ninety-six sides, and assuming that the circle's perimeter falls between those of the polygons, he arrived at the limits he defined through careful calculations, based on two close approximations to the value of √3, which he assumes to be known (265/153 < √3 < 1351/780).

(3) On Conoids and Spheroids (Περὶ κωνοειδέων καὶ σφαιροειδέων) is a treatise in thirty-two propositions, on the solids generated by the revolution of the conic sections about their axes, the main results being the comparisons of the volume of any segment cut off by a plane with that of a cone having the same base and axis (Props. 21, 22 for the paraboloid, 25, 26 for the hyperboloid, and 27-32 for the spheroid).

(3) On Conoids and Spheroids (About cones and spheres) is a treatise with thirty-two propositions that discusses the solids formed by rotating conic sections around their axes. The key findings include comparisons of the volume of any segment cut by a plane with that of a cone that has the same base and axis (Props. 21, 22 for the paraboloid, 25, 26 for the hyperboloid, and 27-32 for the spheroid).

(4) On Spirals (Περὶ ἑλίκων) is a book of twenty-eight propositions. Propositions 1-11 are preliminary, 13-20 contain tangential properties of the curve now known as the spiral of Archimedes, and 21-28 show how to express the area included between any portion of the curve and the radii vectores to its extremities.

(4) On Spirals (About spirals) is a book of twenty-eight statements. Statements 1-11 are introductory, 13-20 discuss related properties of the curve now referred to as the spiral of Archimedes, and 21-28 demonstrate how to calculate the area between any section of the curve and the lines from the center to its endpoints.

(5) On the Equilibrium of Planes or Centres of Gravity of Planes (Περὶ ἐπιπέδων ὶσορροπιῶν ἤ κεντρα βαρῶν ἐπιπέδων). This consists of two books, and may be called the foundation of theoretical mechanics, for the previous contributions of Aristotle were comparatively vague and unscientific. In the first book there are fifteen propositions, with seven postulates; and demonstrations are given, much the same as those still employed, of the centres of gravity (1) of any two weights, (2) of any parallelogram, (3) of any triangle, (4) of any trapezium. The second book in ten propositions is devoted to the finding the centres of gravity (1) of a parabolic segment, (2) of the area included between any two parallel chords and the portions of the curve intercepted by them.

(5) On the Equilibrium of Planes or Centers of Gravity of Planes (About plane equilibria or centers of gravity of planes). This work is composed of two books and can be regarded as the foundation of theoretical mechanics, as earlier contributions from Aristotle were relatively vague and unscientific. The first book contains fifteen propositions, along with seven postulates; it provides demonstrations similar to those still used today for determining the centers of gravity (1) of any two weights, (2) of any parallelogram, (3) of any triangle, (4) of any trapezium. The second book, which has ten propositions, focuses on finding the centers of gravity (1) of a parabolic segment, (2) of the area between any two parallel chords and the segments of the curve they intercept.

(6) The Quadrature of the Parabola (Τετραγωνισμὸς παραβολῆς) is a book in twenty-four propositions, containing two demonstrations that the area of any segment of a parabola is 43 of the triangle which has the same base as the segment and equal height. The first (a mechanical proof) begins, after some preliminary propositions on the parabola, in Prop. 6, ending with an integration in Prop. 16. The second (a geometrical proof) is expounded in Props. 17-24.

(6) The Quadrature of the Parabola (Square of a parabola) is a book made up of twenty-four propositions, which includes two demonstrations showing that the area of any segment of a parabola is 43 of the triangle that shares the same base as the segment and has the same height. The first (a mechanical proof) starts after some introductory propositions about the parabola, beginning with Prop. 6 and concluding with an integration in Prop. 16. The second (a geometrical proof) is detailed in Props. 17-24.

(7) On Floating Bodies (Περὶ ὀχουμένων) is a treatise in two books, the first of which establishes the general principles of hydrostatics, and the second discusses with the greatest completeness the positions of rest and stability of a right segment of a paraboloid of revolution floating in a fluid.

(7) On Floating Bodies (About those concerned) is a two-part work, with the first part outlining the basic principles of hydrostatics, and the second part thoroughly exploring the positions of rest and stability of a right segment of a paraboloid of revolution floating in a fluid.

(8) The Psammites (Ψαμμίτης, Lat. Arenarius, or sand reckoner), a small treatise, addressed to Gelo, the eldest son of Hiero, expounding, as applied to reckoning the number of grains of sand that could be contained in a sphere of the size of our “universe,” a system of naming large numbers according to “orders” and “periods” which would enable any number to be expressed up to that which we should write with 1 followed by 80,000 ciphers!

(8) The Psammites (Ψαμμίτης, Lat. Arenarius, or sand counter), a brief work aimed at Gelo, the oldest son of Hiero, explains, in terms of calculating the number of grains of sand that could fit in a sphere the size of our “universe,” a system for naming large numbers based on “orders” and “periods” that would allow any number to be expressed up to one written as 1 followed by 80,000 zeros!

(9) A Collection of Lemmas, consisting of fifteen propositions in plane geometry. This has come down to us through a Latin version of an Arabic manuscript; it cannot, however, have been written by Archimedes in its present form, as his name is quoted in it more than once.

(9) A Collection of Lemmas, which includes fifteen propositions in plane geometry. This work has been passed down to us through a Latin translation of an Arabic manuscript; however, it couldn't have been written by Archimedes in its current form, as his name is mentioned multiple times in it.

Lastly, Archimedes is credited with the famous Cattle-Problem, enunciated in the epigram edited by G.E. Lessing in 1773, which purports to have been sent by Archimedes to the mathematicians at Alexandria in a letter to Eratosthenes. Of lost works by Archimedes we can identify the following: (1) investigations on polyhedra mentioned by Pappus; (2) Άρχαί, Principles, a book addressed to Zeuxippus and dealing with the naming of numbers on the system explained in the Sand Reckoner; (3) Περὶ ζυγῶν, On balances or levers; (4) Κεντροβαρικά, On centres of gravity; (5) Κατοπτρικά, an optical work from which Theon of Alexandria quotes a remark about refraction; (6) Έφόδιον, a Method, mentioned by Suidas; (7) Περὶ σφαιροποιἶας, On Sphere-making, in which Archimedes explained the construction of the sphere which he made to imitate the motions of the sun, the moon and the five planets in the heavens. Cicero actually saw this contrivance and describes it (De Rep. i. c. 14, §§ 21-22).

Lastly, Archimedes is known for the famous Cattle-Problem, presented in the epigram edited by G.E. Lessing in 1773, which is said to have been sent by Archimedes to the mathematicians at Alexandria in a letter to Eratosthenes. Among the lost works by Archimedes, we can identify the following: (1) studies on polyhedra mentioned by Pappus; (2) Άρχαί, Principles, a book addressed to Zeuxippus that discusses the naming of numbers according to the system explained in the Sand Reckoner; (3) About scales, On balances or levers; (4) Centroidal, On centres of gravity; (5) Reflectively, an optical work from which Theon of Alexandria quotes a comment about refraction; (6) Supplies, a Method, mentioned by Suidas; (7) About spheres, On Sphere-making, in which Archimedes explained how to construct the sphere that he made to mimic the movements of the sun, the moon, and the five planets in the sky. Cicero actually saw this device and describes it (De Rep. i. c. 14, §§ 21-22).

Bibliography.—The editio princeps of the works of Archimedes, with the commentary of Eutocius, is that printed at Basel, in 1544, in Greek and Latin, by Hervagius. D. Rivault’s edition (Paris, 1615) gave the enunciations in Greek and the proofs in Latin somewhat retouched. A Latin version of them was published by Isaac Barrow in 1675 (London, 4to); Nicolas Tartaglia published in Latin the treatises on Centres of Gravity, on the Quadrature of the Parabola, on the Measurement of the Circle, and on Floating Bodies, i. (Venice, 1543); Trojanus Curtius published the two books on Floating Bodies in 1565 after Tartaglia’s death; Frederic Commandine edited the Aldine edition of 1558, 4to, which contains Circuli Dimensio, De Lineis Spiralibus, Quadratura Paraboles, De Conoidibus et Spheroidibus, and De numero Arenae; and in 1565 the same mathematician published the two books De iis quae vehuntur in aqua. J. Torelli’s monumental edition of the works with the commentaries of Eutocius, published at Oxford in 1792, folio, remained the best Greek text until the definitive text edited, with Eutocius’ commentaries, Latin translation, &c., by J.L. Heiberg (Leipzig, 1880-1881) superseded it. The Arenarius and Dimensio Circuli, with Eutocius’ commentary on the latter, were edited by Wallis with Latin translation and notes in 1678 (Oxford), and the Arenarius was also published in English by George Anderson (London, 1784), with useful notes and illustrations. The first modern translation of the works is the French edition published by F. Peyrard (Paris, 1808, 2 vols. 8vo.). A valuable German translation with notes, by E. Nizze, was published at Stralsund in 1824. There is a complete edition in modern notation by T.L. Heath (The Works of Archimedes, Cambridge, 1897). On Archimedes himself, see Plutarch’s Life of Marcellus.

References.—The editio princeps of Archimedes' works, featuring Eutocius' commentary, was printed in Basel in 1544, in Greek and Latin, by Hervagius. D. Rivault’s edition from Paris in 1615 presented the statements in Greek while the proofs were provided in Latin, slightly revised. Isaac Barrow published a Latin version in 1675 (London, 4to); Nicolas Tartaglia released the Latin treatises on Centres of Gravity, Quadrature of the Parabola, Measurement of the Circle, and Floating Bodies in Venice in 1543. Trojanus Curtius published the two books on Floating Bodies in 1565 after Tartaglia's death. Frederic Commandine edited the Aldine edition in 1558, 4to, which includes Circuli Dimensio, De Lineis Spiralibus, Quadratura Paraboles, De Conoidibus et Spheroidibus, and De numero Arenae; in 1565, the same mathematician also published the two books De iis quae vehuntur in aqua. J. Torelli’s monumental edition, with Eutocius' commentaries, was published in Oxford in 1792, folio, and remained the best Greek text until J.L. Heiberg's definitive edition, which included Eutocius’ commentaries and Latin translation, published in Leipzig from 1880 to 1881. The Arenarius and Dimensio Circuli, along with Eutocius’ commentary on the latter, were edited by Wallis with Latin translation and notes in 1678 (Oxford), and the Arenarius was also published in English by George Anderson in London in 1784, featuring useful notes and illustrations. The first modern translation of the works is the French edition published by F. Peyrard in Paris in 1808 (2 vols. 8vo). A valuable German translation with notes by E. Nizze was published in Stralsund in 1824. There is a complete edition in modern notation by T.L. Heath titled The Works of Archimedes, published in Cambridge in 1897. For more on Archimedes, see Plutarch’s Life of Marcellus.

(T. L. H.)

ARCHIMEDES, SCREW OF, a machine for raising water, said to have been invented by Archimedes, for the purpose of removing water from the hold of a large ship that had been built by King Hiero II. of Syracuse. It consists of a water-tight cylinder, enclosing a chamber walled off by spiral divisions running from end to end, inclined to the horizon, with its lower open end placed in the water to be raised. The water, while occupying the lowest portion in each successive division of the spiral chamber, is lifted mechanically by the turning of the machine. Other forms have the spiral revolving free in a fixed cylinder, or consist simply of a tube wound spirally about a cylindrical axis. The same principle is sometimes used in machines for handling wheat, &c. (see Conveyors).

ARCHIMEDES, SCREW OF, a device for lifting water, is said to have been invented by Archimedes to remove water from the hold of a large ship built by King Hiero II of Syracuse. It consists of a watertight cylinder that has a chamber divided by spiral sections running from end to end, tilted towards the horizon, with its lower open end submerged in the water to be lifted. As the machine turns, water that occupies the lowest part of each spiral section is mechanically raised. Other versions have the spiral rotating freely within a fixed cylinder, or consist simply of a tube spiraled around a cylindrical core. This same principle is sometimes applied in machines for handling wheat, etc. (see Conveyors).


ARCHIPELAGO, a name now applied to any island-studded sea, but originally the distinctive designation of what is now generally known as the Aegean Sea (Αἰγαῖον πέλαγος), its ancient name having been revived. Several etymologies have been proposed: e.g. (1) it is a corruption of the ancient name, Egeopelago; (2) it is from the modern Greek, Άγιο πέλαγο, the Holy Sea; (3) it arose at the time of the Latin empire, and means the Sea of the Kingdom (Archi); (4) it is a translation of the Turkish name, Ak Denghiz, Argon Pelagos, the White Sea; (5) it is simply Archipelagus, Italian, arcipelago, the chief sea. For the Grecian Archipelago see Aegean Sea. Other archipelagoes are described in their respective places.

ARCHIPELAGO, a term now used for any sea filled with islands, but originally it referred specifically to what we now commonly call the Aegean Sea (Aegean Sea), with its ancient name being revived. Various explanations for its origin have been suggested: e.g. (1) it is a variation of the ancient name, Egeopelago; (2) it comes from modern Greek, Holy Sea, meaning the Holy Sea; (3) it originated during the time of the Latin Empire, indicating the Sea of the Kingdom (Archi); (4) it is a translation of the Turkish name, Ak Denghiz, Argon Pelagos, meaning the White Sea; (5) it is simply Archipelagus, which comes from Italian, arcipelago, meaning the chief sea. For details on the Grecian Archipelago, see Aegean Sea. Other archipelagos are mentioned in their respective sections.


ARCHIPPUS, an Athenian poet of the Old Comedy, who flourished towards the end of the 5th century B.C. His most famous play was the Fishes, in which he satirized the fondness of the Athenian epicures for fish. The Alexandrian critics attributed to him the authorship of four plays previously assigned to Aristophanes. Archippus was ridiculed by his contemporaries for his fondness for playing upon words (Schol. on Aristophanes, Wasps, 481).

ARCHIPPUS, was an Athenian poet from the Old Comedy era who thrived at the end of the 5th century BCE His most well-known play was the Fishes, where he mocked the obsession of Athenian epicures with fish. The Alexandrian critics credited him with writing four plays that were previously attributed to Aristophanes. Archippus was made fun of by his peers for his love of wordplay (Schol. on Aristophanes, Wasps, 481).

Titles and fragments of six plays are preserved, for which see T. Kock, Comicorum Atticorum Fragmenta, i. (1880); or A. Meineke, Poetarum Comicorum Graecorum Fragmenta (1855).

Titles and snippets of six plays are kept, for which see T. Kock, Comicorum Atticorum Fragmenta, i. (1880); or A. Meineke, Poetarum Comicorum Graecorum Fragmenta (1855).


ARCHITECTURE (Lat. architectura, from the Gr. ἀρχιτέκτων, a master-builder), the art of building in such a way as to accord with principles determined, not merely by the ends the edifice is intended to serve, but by high considerations of beauty and harmony (see Fine Arts). It cannot be defined as the art of building simply, or even of building well. So far as mere excellence of construction is concerned, see Building and its allied articles. The end of building as such is convenience, use, irrespective of appearance; and the employment of materials to this end is regulated by the mechanical principles of the constructive art. The end of architecture as an art, on the other hand, is so to arrange the plan, masses and enrichments of a structure as to impart to it interest, beauty, grandeur, unity, power. Architecture thus necessitates the possession by the builder of gifts of imagination as well as of technical skill, and 370 in all works of architecture properly so called these elements must exist, and be harmoniously combined.

ARCHITECTURE (Lat. architectura, from the Gr. architect, a master builder) is the art of designing buildings that align with principles not only based on their intended use but also on important ideas of beauty and harmony (see Fine Arts). It cannot just be defined as the art of building or even building well. When it comes to basic construction quality, refer to Building and related articles. The primary goal of building is practicality and utility, regardless of how it looks; the use of materials for this purpose is guided by the mechanical principles of construction. The goal of architecture as an art, however, is to organize the layout, volumes, and decorative elements of a structure to give it interest, beauty, majesty, unity, and strength. Therefore, architecture requires the builder to have both imaginative qualities and technical skills, and in all true architectural works, these elements must be present and harmoniously integrated.

Like the other arts, architecture did not spring into existence at an early period of man’s history The ideas of symmetry and proportion which are afterwards embodied in material structures could not be evolved until at least a moderate degree of civilization had been attained, while the efforts of primitive man in the construction of dwellings must have been at first determined solely by his physical wants. Only after these had been provided for, and materials amassed on which his imagination might exercise itself, would he begin to plan and erect structures, possessing not only utility, but also grandeur and beauty. It may be well to enumerate briefly the elements which in combination form the architectural perfection of a building. These elements have been very variously determined by different authorities. Vitruvius, the only ancient writer on the art whose works have come down to us, lays down three qualities as indispensable in a fine building: Firmitas, Utilitas, Venustas, stability, utility, beauty. From an architectural point of view the last is the principal, though not the sole element; and, accordingly, the theory of architecture is occupied for the most part with aesthetic considerations, or the principles of beauty in designing. Of such principles or qualities the following appear to be the most important: size, harmony, proportion, symmetry, ornament and colour. All other elements may be reduced under one or other of these heads.

Like other arts, architecture didn't just come into being at the beginning of human history. The concepts of symmetry and proportion that would later be reflected in physical structures couldn't develop until a reasonable level of civilization was achieved. Initially, primitive people built shelters only to meet their basic needs. It wasn't until these needs were met and they had gathered materials that they could let their imagination create structures that were not only functional but also impressive and beautiful. It’s useful to briefly list the elements that combine to create the architectural perfection of a building. These elements have been defined in various ways by different experts. Vitruvius, the only ancient writer on architecture whose works we still have, identifies three essential qualities in a fine building: Firmitas, Utilitas, Venustas, which mean stability, utility, and beauty. From an architectural perspective, beauty is the main, though not the only, element; therefore, the theory of architecture mainly focuses on aesthetic considerations, or the principles of beauty in design. The following principles or qualities seem to be the most important: size, harmony, proportion, symmetry, ornamentation, and color. All other elements can generally be categorized under one or more of these.

With regard to the first quality, it is clear that, as the feeling of power is a source of the keenest pleasure, size, or vastness of proportion, will not only excite in the mind of man the feelings of awe with which he regards the sublime in nature, but will impress him with a deep sense of the majesty of human power. It is, therefore, a double source of pleasure. The feelings with which we regard the Pyramids of Egypt, the great hall of columns at Karnak, the Pantheon, or the Basilica of Maxentius at Rome, the Trilithon at Baalbek, the choir of Beauvais cathedral, or the Arc de l’Étoile at Paris, sufficiently attest the truth of this quality, size, which is even better appreciated when the buildings are contemplated simply as masses, without being disturbed by the consideration of the details.

Regarding the first quality, it’s clear that the feeling of power is a major source of intense pleasure. The size or vastness of a structure not only evokes awe in people when they encounter the sublime aspects of nature but also instills a profound sense of the greatness of human power. This creates a double source of enjoyment. Our feelings toward the Pyramids of Egypt, the grand hall of columns at Karnak, the Pantheon, or the Basilica of Maxentius in Rome, the Trilithon at Baalbek, the choir of Beauvais Cathedral, or the Arc de l’Étoile in Paris clearly illustrate this truth about size. This quality is even more appreciated when we view the buildings merely as large forms, without being distracted by their details.

Proportion itself depends essentially upon the employment of mathematical ratios in the dimensions of a building. It is a curious but significant fact that such proportions as those of an exact cube, or of two cubes placed side by side—dimensions increasing by one-half (e.g., 20 ft. high, 30 wide and 45 long)—or the ratios of the base, perpendicular and hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle (e.g. 3, 4, 5, or their multiples)—please the eye more than dimensions taken at random. No defect is more glaring or more unpleasant than want of proportion. The Gothic architects appear to have been guided in their designs by proportions based on the equilateral triangle.

Proportion itself primarily relies on the use of mathematical ratios in a building's dimensions. It's an interesting but important fact that proportions like those of a perfect cube, or two cubes placed next to each other—dimensions increasing by one-half (for example, 20 ft. high, 30 ft. wide, and 45 ft. long)—or the ratios of the base, height, and hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle (like 3, 4, 5, or their multiples)—are more pleasing to the eye than dimensions chosen randomly. There's no flaw more obvious or unpleasant than a lack of proportion. The Gothic architects seem to have based their designs on proportions derived from the equilateral triangle.

By harmony is meant the general balancing of the several parts of the design. It is proportion applied to the mutual relations of the details. Thus, supported parts should have an adequate ratio to their supports, and the same should be the case with solids and voids. Due attention to proportion and harmony gives the appearance of stability and repose which is indispensable to a really fine building. Symmetry is uniformity in plan, and, when not carried to excess, is undoubtedly effective. But a building too rigorously symmetrical is apt to appear cold and tasteless. Such symmetry of general plan, with diversity of detail, as is presented to us in leaves, animals, and other natural objects, is probably the just medium between the excesses of two opposing schools.

By harmony, we mean the overall balance of the different parts of the design. It’s about how proportions relate to one another in the details. For example, supporting elements should have a proper ratio to what they support, and the same goes for solid and empty spaces. Giving proper attention to proportion and harmony creates an impression of stability and calmness, which is essential for a truly great building. Symmetry means having a consistent layout, which can be very effective if not overdone. However, a building that is too strictly symmetrical can end up looking cold and uninviting. A balance of general symmetry, paired with diverse details—as seen in leaves, animals, and other natural forms—might be the perfect middle ground between the extremes of two opposing styles.

Next to general beauty or grandeur of form in a building comes architectural ornament. Ornament, of course, may be used to excess, and as a general rule it should be confined to the decoration of constructive parts of the fabric; but, on the other hand, a total absence or a paucity of ornament betokens an unpleasing poverty. Ornaments may be divided into two classes—mouldings and the sculptured representation of natural or fanciful objects. Mouldings, no doubt, originated, first, in simply taking off the edge of anything that might be in the way, as the edge of a square post, and then sinking the chamfer in hollows of various forms; and thence were developed the systems of mouldings we now find in all styles and periods. Each of these has its own system; and so well are their characteristics understood, that from an examination of them a skilful architect will not only tell the period in which any building has been erected, but will even give an estimate of its probable size, as professors of physiology will construct an animal from the examination of a single bone. Mouldings require to be carefully studied, for nothing offends an educated eye like a confusion of mouldings, such as Roman forms in Greek work, or Early English in that of the Tudor period. The same remark applies to sculptured ornaments. They should be neither too numerous nor too few, and above all, they should be consistent. The carved ox skulls, for instance, which are appropriate in a temple of Vesta or of Fortune would be very incongruous on a Christian church.

Next to the overall beauty or impressive design of a building is architectural ornamentation. Ornament can definitely be overdone, and generally, it should be limited to decorating the structural parts of the building. However, having little or no ornamentation can signal an unattractive simplicity. Ornaments can be categorized into two types—mouldings and the sculpted depiction of natural or imaginative objects. Mouldings likely originated from simply smoothing out the edges of things that might be in the way, like the edge of a square post, and then creating various shapes through hollows and chamfers. From that, we have the systems of mouldings we see in different styles and periods today. Each style has its own system, and architects skilled in this field can not only identify the time period a building was constructed by examining its mouldings but can also estimate its likely size, just like physiologists can reconstruct an animal from examining a single bone. Mouldings need to be studied carefully because nothing irritates a discerning eye like a mix-up of mouldings, such as combining Roman forms with Greek designs, or Early English styles with those from the Tudor era. The same applies to sculpted ornaments. They shouldn’t be too numerous or too sparse, and most importantly, they should be consistent. For example, carved ox skulls, which might fit well in a temple dedicated to Vesta or Fortune, would look very out of place on a Christian church.

Colour must be regarded as a subsidiary element in architecture, and although it seems almost indispensable and has always been extensively employed in interiors, it is doubtful how far external colouring is desirable. Some contend that only local colouring, i.e. the colour of the materials, should be admitted; but there seems no reason why any colour should not be used, provided it be employed with discretion and kept subordinate to the form or outline.

Color should be seen as a secondary aspect of architecture. While it seems almost essential and has always been widely used in interiors, it's uncertain how beneficial external colors really are. Some argue that only local colors—meaning the natural colors of the materials—should be allowed. However, there's no reason why any color can't be used, as long as it's done thoughtfully and remains secondary to the structure or shape.

Origin of the Art.—The origin of the art of architecture is to be found in the endeavours of man to provide for his physical wants; in the earliest days the cave, the hut and the tent may have given shelter to those who devoted themselves to hunting and fishing, to agriculture and to a pastoral and nomadic life, and in many cases still afford the only shelter from the weather. There can be no doubt, however, that climate and the materials at hand affect the forms of the primitive buildings; thus, in the two earliest settlements of mankind, in Chaldaea and Egypt, where wood was scarce, the heat in the day-time intense, and the only material which could be obtained was the alluvial clay, brought down by the rivers in both those countries, they shaped this into bricks, which, dried in the sun, enabled them to build rude huts, giving them the required shelter. These may have been circular or rectangular on plan, with the bricks laid in horizontal courses, one projecting over the other, till the walls met at the top. The next advance in Egypt was made by the employment of the trunks of the palm tree as a lintel over the doorway, to support the wall above, and to cover over the hut and carry the flat roof of earth which is found down to the present day in all hot countries. Evidence of this system of construction is found in some of the earliest rock-cut tombs at Giza, where the actual dwelling of the deceased was reproduced in the tomb, and from these reproductions we gather that the corners, or quoins of the hut were protected by stems of the douva plant, bound together in rolls by the leaves, which, in the form of torus rolls, were also carried across the top of the wall. Down to the present day the huts of the fellahs are built in the same way, and, surmounted as they are by pigeon-cots, bear so strong a resemblance to the pylons and the walls of the temples as at all events to suggest, if not to prove, that in their origin these stone erections were copies of unburnt brick structures. From long exposure in the sun, these bricks acquire a hardness and compactness not much inferior to some of the softer qualities of stone, but they are unable to sustain much pressure; consequently it is necessary to make the walls thicker at the bottom than at the top, and it is this which results in the batter or raking sides of all the unburnt brick walls. The same raking sides are found in all their mastabas, or tombs, sometimes built in unburnt brick and sometimes in stone, in the latter case being simple reproductions of the former. In some of the early mastabas, built in brick, either to vary the monotony of the mass and decorate the walls, or to ensure greater care in their construction, vertical brick pilasters are provided, forming sunk panels. These form the principal decoration, as reproduced in stone, of an endless number of tombs, some of which are in the British Museum. At the top of each panel they carve a portion 371 of trunk necessary to support the walls of brick, and over the doorway a similar feature. In Chaldaea the same decorative features are found in the stage towers which constituted their temples, and broad projecting buttresses, indented panels and other features, originally constructive, form the decorations of the Assyrian palaces. There also, built in the same material, unburnt brick, the walls have a similar batter, though they were faced with burnt bricks. In later times in Greece and Asia Minor, where wood was plentiful, the stone architecture suggests its timber origin, and though unburnt brick was still employed for the mass of the walls, the remains in Crete and the representations in painting, &c., show that it was encased in timber framing, so that the raking walls were no longer a necessary element in their structure. The clearest proofs of original timber construction are shown in the rock-cut tombs of Lycia, where the ground sill, vertical posts, cross beams, purlins and roof joists are all direct imitations of structures originally erected in wood.

Origin of the Art.—The art of architecture originated from humanity's efforts to meet their physical needs. In the earliest days, caves, huts, and tents provided shelter for those engaged in hunting, fishing, agriculture, and a pastoral or nomadic lifestyle. Even today, these are often the only protection against the elements. However, it’s clear that climate and available materials influenced the designs of primitive buildings. In the two earliest civilizations, Chaldaea and Egypt, where wood was scarce, daytime temperatures were extremely high, and the only material readily available was alluvial clay brought by rivers, people made bricks from this clay. Sun-dried, these bricks allowed for the construction of rudimentary huts that provided the necessary shelter. The huts could have circular or rectangular layouts, with the bricks stacked horizontally, projecting over one another until the walls met at the top. In Egypt, the next advancement included using palm tree trunks as lintels over doorways to support the wall above and to deck the structure with a flat earth roof, a feature still common in hot regions today. Evidence of this construction method can be found in some of the earliest rock-cut tombs at Giza, where the dwelling of the deceased was replicated in the tomb. From these replicas, we learn that the corners of the huts were strengthened with the stems of the douva plant, bundled together with leaves, forming rolls, which were also placed across the top of the walls. Today, the huts of the fellahs are built similarly, and with pigeon-cots atop them, they closely resemble the pylons and walls of temples, suggesting that these stone structures originated from unburnt brick designs. After prolonged exposure to sunlight, these bricks develop a hardness and density similar to some softer types of stone, but they cannot bear much weight. Therefore, walls must be thicker at the base than at the top, resulting in the sloped sides common in unburnt brick walls. This same sloped design is found in all their mastabas, or tombs, sometimes made of unburnt brick and other times of stone, the latter being simple copies of the former. In some early brick mastabas, to break the monotony and enhance aesthetics, vertical brick pilasters create recessed panels. These features became the main decoration, as replicated in stone, of countless tombs, some of which can be seen in the British Museum. Each panel includes a carved section at the top necessary to support the brick walls, along with similar decorations above doorways. In Chaldaea, the same decorative aspects appear in the tiered towers of their temples, where broad projecting buttresses, indented panels, and other originally structural features are now decorative elements in Assyrian palaces. There, the walls, made of unburnt brick, also share a similar sloped design, despite being faced with burnt bricks. In later times in Greece and Asia Minor, where wood was abundant, stone architecture reflected its timber roots. Even though unburnt brick was still used for wall masses, remains from Crete and various portrayals indicate that these walls were framed in timber, making the sloping walls no longer a necessary structural element. The strongest evidence of original wooden construction can be found in the rock-cut tombs of Lycia, where the ground sill, vertical posts, cross beams, purlins, and roof joists all directly mimic structures originally built in wood.

The numerous relics of structures left by primeval man have generally little or no architectural value; and the only interesting problem regarding them—the determination of their date and purpose and of the degree of civilization which they manifest—falls within the province of archaeology (see Archaeology; Barrow; Lake-Dwellings; Stone Monuments).

The many remains of structures left by early humans usually have little to no architectural significance; the only intriguing issue surrounding them—figuring out when they were built, their purpose, and the level of civilization they represent—belongs to the field of archaeology (see Archaeology; Barrow; Lake-Dwellings; Stone Monuments).

Technical terms in architecture will be found separately explained under their own headings in this work, and in this article a general acquaintance with them is assumed. A number of architectural subjects are also considered in detail in separate articles; see, for instance, Capital; Column; Design; Order; and such headings as Abbey; Aqueduct; Arch; Basilica; Baths; Bridges; Catacomb; Crypt; Dome; Mosque; Palace; Pyramid; Temple; Theatre; &c., &c. Also such general articles on national art as China: Art; Egypt: Art and Archaeology; Greek Art; Roman Art; &c., and the sections on architecture and buildings under the headings of countries and towns.

Technical terms in architecture are explained separately under their own headings in this work, and this article assumes you have a general understanding of them. Several architectural topics are also discussed in detail in separate articles; for example, Capital; Column; Design; Order; and headings like Abbey; Aqueduct; Arch; Basilica; Baths; Bridges; Catacomb; Crypt; Dome; Mosque; Palace; Pyramid; Temple; Theatre; etc., etc. Also, general articles on national art such as China: Art; Egypt: Art and Archaeology; Greek Art; Roman Art; etc., and the sections on architecture and buildings under the headings of countries and cities.

In the remainder of this article the general history of the evolution of the art of architecture will be considered in various sections, associated with the nations and periods from which the leading historic styles are chronologically derived, in so far as the dominant influences on the art, and not the purely local characteristics of countries outside the main current of its history, are concerned; but the opportunity is taken to treat with some attempt at comprehensiveness the leading features of the architectural history of those countries and peoples which are intimately connected with the development of modern architecture.

In the rest of this article, we will explore the general history of how architecture has evolved, divided into different sections that relate to the nations and time periods from which the major historic styles are derived in chronological order. This will focus on the key influences on the art rather than just the local characteristics of countries that are outside the main flow of its history. However, we will also make an effort to cover the main aspects of the architectural history of those countries and cultures that are closely linked to the development of modern architecture.

These consecutive sections are as follows:—

These consecutive sections are as follows:—

Egyptian

Egyptian

Assyrian

Assyrian

Persian

Persian language

Greek

Greek

Parthian

Parthian

Sassanian

Sassanid

Etruscan

Etruscan

Roman

Roman

Byzantine

Byzantine Empire

Early Christian

Early Christianity

Early Christian Work in Central Syria

Early Christian Work in Central Syria

Coptic Church in Egypt

Coptic Church in Egypt

Romanesque and Gothic in—

Romanesque and Gothic in—

Italy

Italy

France

France

Spain

Spain

England

England

Germany

Germany

Belgium and Holland

Belgium and the Netherlands

Renaissance: Introduction

Renaissance: Overview

Italy

Italy

France

France

Spain

Spain

England

England

Germany

Germany

Belgium and Holland

Belgium and the Netherlands

Mahommedan

Muslim

Finally, a section on what can only be collectively termed Modern architecture deals with the main lines of the later developments down to the present day in the architectural history of different countries.

Finally, a section on what can only be collectively called Modern architecture discusses the key trends of later developments up to the present day in the architectural history of various countries.

(R. P. S.)

Egyptian Architecture

Egyptian Architecture

Although structures discovered in Chaldaea, at Tello and Nippur, seeming to date back to the fifth millennium B.C., suggest that the earlier settlements of mankind were in the valley of the Tigris and Euphrates, north of the Persian Gulf, it is to Egypt that we must turn for the most ancient records of monumental architecture (see also Egypt: Art and Archaeology). The proximity of the ranges of hills (the Arabian and Libyan chains) to the Nile, and the facilities which that river afforded for the transport of the material quarried in them, enabled the Egyptians at a very early period to reproduce in stone those structures in unburnt brick to which we have already referred.

Although structures found in Chaldea, at Tello and Nippur, dating back to the fifth millennium BCE, suggest that early human settlements were in the valley of the Tigris and Euphrates, north of the Persian Gulf, we must look to Egypt for the oldest records of monumental architecture (see also Egypt: Art and Archaeology). The closeness of the mountain ranges (the Arabian and Libyan chains) to the Nile, along with the advantages that river provided for transporting materials quarried from those hills, allowed the Egyptians very early on to recreate in stone the structures made of unburnt brick that we’ve previously mentioned.

Although the great founder of the first Egyptian monarchy is reputed to be Menes, the Thinite who traditionally founded the capital at Memphis, he was preceded, according to Flinders Petrie, by an earlier invading race coming from the south, who established a monarchy at This near Abydos, having entered the country by the Kosseir road from the Red Sea; and this may account for the early tradition that it was the Ethiopians who founded the earliest dynastic race, “Ethiopians” being a wide term which may embrace several races.

Although Menes, the Thinite who is credited with founding the first Egyptian monarchy and establishing the capital at Memphis, is considered the great founder, Flinders Petrie suggests that he was preceded by an earlier invading group from the south. This group established a monarchy at This, near Abydos, having arrived via the Kosseir road from the Red Sea. This could explain the early tradition that the original dynastic race was founded by the Ethiopians, a term that can refer to several different groups.

Egyptian architecture is usually described under the principal periods in which it was developed. They are as follows1:—(A) the Memphite kingdom, whose capital was at Memphis, south-west of Cairo, the Royal Domain extending south some 30 to 40 m.; (B) the first Theban kingdom with Thebes as the capital; this covers three dynasties. Then follows an interregnum of five dynasties, when the invasion of the Hyksos took place; this was architecturally unproductive. On the expulsion of the Hyksos there followed (C) the second Theban kingdom, consisting of three dynasties, under whose reign the finest temples were erected throughout the country. After 1102 followed six dynasties (1102-525 B.C.), with capitals at Sais, Tanis and Bubastis, when the decadence of art and power took place. Then followed the Persian invasion, 525-331 B.C., which was destructive instead of being reproductive. On the defeat of the Persians by Alexander the Great, and after his death in 323 B.C., was founded (D) the Ptolemaic kingdom, with Alexandria as the capital. A great revival of art then took place, which to a certain extent was carried on under the Roman occupation from 27 B.C., and lasted about 300 years.

Egyptian architecture is typically categorized by the main periods in which it was developed. These periods are as follows: (A) the Memphite kingdom, with its capital at Memphis, located southwest of Cairo, and its territory extending south for about 30 to 40 miles; (B) the first Theban kingdom, where Thebes was the capital, spanning three dynasties. This was followed by an interregnum of five dynasties during which the Hyksos invasion occurred, a time that saw little architectural progress. After the Hyksos were expelled, (C) the second Theban kingdom emerged, comprising three dynasties, during which the finest temples were built across the country. Following this, there were six dynasties from 1102 to 525 B.C., with capitals at Sais, Tanis, and Bubastis, marking a decline in both art and power. Next came the Persian invasion from 525 to 331 B.C., which was destructive rather than creative. After the Persians were defeated by Alexander the Great and following his death in 323 BCE, the (D) Ptolemaic kingdom was established, with Alexandria as its capital. This period marked a significant revival of art, which continued to some extent during the Roman occupation starting in 27 BCE and lasted for about 300 years.

With the exception of a small temple, found by Petrie in front of the temple of Medum, and the so-called “Temple of the Sphinx,” the only monuments remaining of the Memphite kingdom are the Pyramids, which were built by the kings as their tombs, and the mastabas, in which the members of the royal family and of the priests and chiefs were buried. The mastaba (Arabic for “bench”) was a tomb, oblong in plan, with battering side and a flat roof, containing various chambers, of which the principal were (1) the Chapel for offerings, (2) the Serdab, in which the Ka or double of the deceased was deposited, and (3) the well, always excavated in the rock, in which the mummy was placed.

With the exception of a small temple discovered by Petrie in front of the temple of Medum, and the so-called “Temple of the Sphinx,” the only monuments left from the Memphite kingdom are the Pyramids, which were built by the kings as their tombs, and the mastabas, where members of the royal family, priests, and chiefs were buried. The mastaba (Arabic for “bench”) was a tomb, rectangular in shape, with sloping sides and a flat roof, containing various chambers, the main ones being (1) the Chapel for offerings, (2) the Serdab, where the Ka or spirit of the deceased was placed, and (3) the well, which was always dug into the rock, where the mummy was located.

The three best-known pyramids are those situated about 7 m. south-west of Cairo, which were built by the second, third and fourth kings of the fourth dynasty,—Khufu (c. 3969-3908 B.C.), Khafra (c. 3908-3845 B.C.), and Menkaura (c. 3845-3784 B.C.), who are better known as Cheops, Cephren and Mycerinus. The first of these is the largest and most remarkable in its construction and setting out. The pyramid of Cephren was slightly smaller, and that of Mycerinus still more so, compensated for by a casing in granite. The dimensions and other details are given in the article Pyramids. From the purely architectural point of view they are the least impressive of masses, and their immense size is not realized until on a close approach.

The three most famous pyramids are located about 7 km southwest of Cairo, built by the second, third, and fourth kings of the fourth dynasty—Khufu (c. 3969-3908 B.C.), Khafra (c. 3908-3845 B.C.), and Menkaura (c. 3845-3784 B.C.), who are more commonly known as Cheops, Cephren, and Mycerinus. The largest and most remarkable one is the pyramid of Khufu. The pyramid of Khafra is slightly smaller, and that of Menkaura is even smaller, but it has a granite casing that makes up for its size. The dimensions and other details are provided in the article Pyramids. Architecturally, they are not the most impressive in mass, and their immense size isn’t truly appreciated until you get up close.

The temple of the Sphinx, attributed to Cephren, is T-shaped in plan, with two rows of square piers down the vertical and one row down the cross portion. These carried a flat roof of stone. The temple is remarkable for the splendid finish given to the granite piers, and to the alabaster slabs which cased the rock in which it had been partially excavated (but see Egypt: History, I.).

The Sphinx temple, credited to Cephren, has a T-shaped layout, featuring two rows of square pillars along the vertical part and one row across the horizontal section. These supported a flat stone roof. The temple stands out for the exquisite finishing of the granite pillars and the alabaster slabs that lined the rock it was partly carved from (but see Egypt: History, I.).

The Serapeum at Sakkara, in which the sacred bulls were embalmed and buried, the tomb of Ti (a fifth dynasty courtier), and the tombs of the kings and queens of Thebes, have no special architectural features which call for description here.

The Serapeum at Sakkara, where the sacred bulls were embalmed and buried, the tomb of Ti (a courtier from the fifth dynasty), and the tombs of the kings and queens of Thebes, don't have any specific architectural features that need description here.

We pass on to the first Theban kingdom, the eighth king of which, Nebheprē Menthotp III., built the temple lately discovered on the south side of the temple at Deir-el-Bahri, of which it is the prototype. It was a sepulchral temple, and being built on rising ground was approached by flights of steps. In the centre was a solid mass of masonry which, it is thought by some authorities, was crowned by a pyramid. This was surrounded by a double portico with square piers in the outer range, and octagonal piers in the inner range, there being a wall between the two ranges.

We move on to the first Theban kingdom, where the eighth king, Nebheprē Menthotp III, constructed the temple recently uncovered on the south side of the temple at Deir-el-Bahri, which it is modeled after. It was a burial temple, and since it was built on elevated ground, it was approached by a series of steps. In the center was a solid block of stone that some experts believe was topped with a pyramid. This was surrounded by a double colonnade with square columns in the outer section and octagonal columns in the inner section, with a wall separating the two sections.

The earliest tombs in which the column (q.v.) appears, as an architectural feature, are those at Beni Hasan, attributed to the period of Senwosri (formerly read Usertesen) I., the second king of the twelfth dynasty. These are carved in the solid rock. There are two 372 types, the Polygonal column, sometimes in error called the Protodoric, which was cut in the rock in imitation of a wooden column, and a second variety known as the Lotus column, which is employed inside, supporting the rock-cut roof, but having such slender proportions as to suggest that it was copied from the posts of a porch, round which the Lotus plant had been tied.

The earliest tombs featuring the column (q.v.) as an architectural element are those at Beni Hasan, dating back to the time of Senwosri (previously referred to as Usertesen) I., the second king of the twelfth dynasty. These tombs are carved directly from solid rock. There are two372 types: the Polygonal column, often mistakenly called the Protodoric, which is sculpted in the rock to resemble a wooden column, and a second type known as the Lotus column, which is used inside to support the rock-cut ceiling. This column has such slender proportions that it appears to have been modeled after the posts of a porch, around which the Lotus plant was tied.

The culminating period of the Egyptian style begins with the kings of the eighteenth dynasty, their principal capital being Thebes, described by Herodotus as the “City with the Hundred Gates”; and although the execution of the masonry is inferior to that of the older dynasties, the grandeur of the conception of their temples, and the wealth displayed in their realization entitle Thebes to the most important position in the history of the Egyptian style, especially as the temples there grouped on both sides of the river exceed in number and dimensions the whole of the other temples throughout Egypt. This to a certain extent may possibly be due to the distance of Thebes from the Mediterranean, which has contributed to their preservation from invaders. We have already referred to the probable origin of the peculiar batter or raking side given to the walls of the pylons and temples, with the Torus moulding surrounding the same and crowned with the cavetto cornice. What, however, is more remarkable is the fact that, once accepted as an important and characteristic feature, it should never have been departed from, and that down to and during the Roman occupation the same batter is found in all the temples, though constructively there was no necessity for it. The strict adherence to tradition may possibly account for this, but it has resulted in a magnificent repose possessed by these structures, which seem built to last till eternity.

The peak of the Egyptian style starts with the kings of the eighteenth dynasty, centered in Thebes, referred to by Herodotus as the “City with the Hundred Gates.” While the quality of the masonry isn’t as high as that of earlier dynasties, the impressive design of their temples and the wealth showcased in their construction give Thebes a crucial place in the history of Egyptian style. The temples located on both sides of the river not only outnumber all the other temples in Egypt but also surpass them in size. This might be partly due to Thebes' distance from the Mediterranean, which helped protect it from invaders. We’ve already mentioned the likely origin of the distinctive sloping sides seen in the walls of the pylons and temples, along with the Torus molding around them topped with a cavetto cornice. What’s even more notable is that once this characteristic feature was established, it was never altered. Even during the Roman occupation, the same sloping design appears in all temples, despite there being no structural need for it. This strict adherence to tradition could explain this consistency, resulting in a magnificent sense of stability in these structures, which seem built to last forever.

Fig. 1.—Plan of the Temple of Chons.

A, Pylon.

A, Pylon.

B, Great court.

B, Awesome court.

C, Hall of columns.

C, Column Hall.

D, Priest’s hall.

D, Priest's lounge.

E, Sanctuary.

E, Sanctuary.

An avenue with sphinxes on both sides forms the approach to the temple. These avenues were sometimes of considerable length, as in the case of that reaching from Karnak to Luxor, which is 1½ m. long. The leading features of the temple (see fig. 1) were:—(A) The pylon, consisting of two pyramidal masses of masonry crowned with a cavetto cornice, united in the centre by an immense doorway, in front of which on either side were seated figures of the king and obelisks. (B) A great open court surrounded by peristyles on two or three sides. (C) A great hall with a range of columns down the centre on either side, forming what in European architecture would be known as nave and aisles, with additional aisles on each side; these had columns of less height than those first mentioned, so as to allow of a clerestory, lighting the central avenue. (D) Smaller halls with their flat roofs carried by columns. And finally (E) the sanctuary, with passage round giving access to the halls occupied by the priest.

An avenue lined with sphinxes on both sides leads to the temple. These avenues were sometimes quite long, like the one from Karnak to Luxor, which is 1.5 miles long. The main features of the temple (see fig. 1) included: (A) The pylon, made up of two large pyramidal structures topped with a curved cornice, connected in the middle by a massive doorway, in front of which on either side were seated figures of the king and obelisks. (B) A large open court surrounded by colonnades on two or three sides. (C) A grand hall with a row of columns down the center on either side, which would be recognized in European architecture as a nave and aisles, with additional aisles on each side; these had shorter columns than those mentioned earlier, allowing for a clerestory to illuminate the central avenue. (D) Smaller halls with flat roofs supported by columns. And finally, (E) the sanctuary, with a passage around it providing access to the chambers used by the priest.

Broadly speaking, the temples bear considerable resemblance to one another (see Temple), except in dimensions. There is one important distinction, however, to be drawn between the Theban temples and those built under the Ptolemaic rule. In these latter the halls are not enclosed between pylons, but left open on the side of the entrance court with screens in between the columns, the hall being lighted from above the screens. The temples of Edfu, Esna and Dendera are thus arranged.

Generally speaking, the temples look quite similar to each other (see Temple), except for their size. However, there's one important difference between the Theban temples and those built during the Ptolemaic period. In the latter, the halls aren't enclosed by pylons; instead, they're open toward the entrance courtyard, featuring screens between the columns, with light coming in from above the screens. This design is seen in the temples of Edfu, Esna, and Dendera.

The great temple of Karnak (fig. 2) differs from the type just described, in that it was the work of many successive monarchs. Thus the sanctuary, built in granite, and the surrounding chambers, were erected by Senwosri (Usertesen) I. of the twelfth dynasty. In front of this, on the west side, pylons were added by Tethmosis (Thothmes, Tahutmes) I. (1541-1516), enclosing a hall, in the walls of which were Osirid figures. In front of this a third pylon was added, which Seti (Sethos) I. utilized as one of the enclosures of the great hall of columns (fig. 3), measuring 170 ft. deep by 329 ft. wide, having added a fourth pylon on the other side to enclose it. Again in front of this was the great open court with porticoes on two sides, and a great pylon, forming the entrance. In the rear of all these buildings, and some distance beyond the sanctuary, Tethmosis III. (1503-1449) built a great colonnaded hall with other halls round, considered to have been a palace. All these structures form a part only of the great temple, on the right and left of which (i.e. to the north-east and south-west) were other temples preceded by pylons and connected one with the other by avenues of sphinxes. Though of small size comparatively, one of the best preserved is the temple of Chons, built by Rameses III. It was from this temple that an avenue of sphinxes led to the temple of Luxor, which was begun by Amenophis III. (1414-1379 B.C.), and completed by Rameses II. (1300-1234).

The great temple of Karnak (fig. 2) is different from the type just described because it was built by many successive kings. The sanctuary, made of granite, and the surrounding rooms were constructed by Senwosri (Usertesen) I of the twelfth dynasty. In front of this, on the west side, pylons were added by Tethmosis (Thothmes, Tahutmes) I (1541-1516), enclosing a hall that featured Osirid figures on its walls. In front of this was a third pylon that Seti (Sethos) I used as part of the great hall of columns (fig. 3), which measures 170 ft. deep by 329 ft. wide, with a fourth pylon added on the other side to enclose it. Ahead of this was a large open court with colonnades on two sides and a massive pylon that served as the entrance. Behind all these buildings, and a short distance beyond the sanctuary, Tethmosis III (1503-1449) built a large colonnaded hall with other surrounding halls, which is thought to have been a palace. All of these structures are just a part of the great temple, with other temples on the right and left (i.e. to the north-east and south-west) that were preceded by pylons and connected by avenues of sphinxes. Although relatively small, one of the best-preserved temples is the temple of Chons, built by Rameses III. From this temple, an avenue of sphinxes led to the temple of Luxor, which was started by Amenophis III (1414-1379 BCE) and finished by Rameses II (1300-1234).

On the opposite or west bank of the Nile are the temple of Medinet Abu, the Ramesseum, the temples of Kurna and of Deir-el-Bahri; the last being a sepulchral temple, which, built on rising ground, had flights of steps leading to the higher level (fig. 4), and porticoes with square piers at the foot of each terrace. In the rear on the right-hand side was found an altar, the only example of its kind known in Egypt. The halls behind this and the portico of the right flank had polygonal columns.

On the opposite or west bank of the Nile are the temple of Medinet Abu, the Ramesseum, the temples of Karnak and Deir-el-Bahri; the last being a funerary temple, which, built on elevated ground, had staircases leading to a higher level (fig. 4), and porticoes with square columns at the base of each terrace. In the back on the right side, an altar was discovered, the only one of its kind known in Egypt. The halls behind this and the portico on the right side had polygonal columns.

Fig. 2.

In the palace of Tell el-Amarna, built shortly before 1350 B.C. by the heretic king Akhenaton (whose name was originally Amenophis IV.), and discovered by Petrie, there were no special architectural developments, but the painted decoration of the walls and pavements assumed a literal interpretation of natural forms of plants and foliage and of birds and animals, recalling to some extent that found at Cnossus in Crete.

In the palace of Tell el-Amarna, built just before 1350 B.C. by the heretic king Akhenaton (originally named Amenophis IV), which was discovered by Petrie, there weren't any notable architectural advancements. However, the painted decoration on the walls and floors depicted natural forms of plants, leaves, birds, and animals in a very literal way, somewhat reminiscent of what was found at Cnossus in Crete.

Ascending the river from Cairo, the first temples of which important remains exist are the two at Abydos. One of these has an exceptional plan, with seven sanctuaries in the rear. It was built by Seti I., and consists of an outer portico with square piers, a hall 373 with two rows of columns down to the centre, and a second hall with three rows of columns. These halls are placed longitudinally to give access to the seven sanctuaries. The second temple is of the ordinary type, with pylon, court with portico on all four sides, two halls of columns, and three sanctuaries in the rear. The next temple is that of Dendera, commenced under the second Ptolemy but not completed until the reign of Nero. It has been completely excavated, and retains the whole of its external walls. Above Thebes is the temple of Esna, of which the hall of columns only has been cleared out. The capitals of the front belong to the lotus-bud type, and those of the interior are carved with many varieties of river plant. The temple of Edfu is the best preserved in Egypt. Its plan (fig. 5) would seem to have been determined from the first, and it is singular to note that it presents the traditional type of plan, which in the Theban examples was evolved from additions made by successive monarchs. In dimensions it is but little inferior to these. Its pylon (fig. 6) is 250 ft. wide and 150 ft. high; the first court has porticoes on three sides. The great hall of columns, all of which here are of the same height, is lighted from above (fig. 7), the screen facing the court. Then follow the second hall of columns, two vestibules, and the sanctuary, surrounded by a passage giving access to the priest’s rooms round. The temple of Kom Ombo, which comes next, was dedicated to two deities, and had therefore two sanctuaries.

Ascending the river from Cairo, the first temples with significant remains are the two at Abydos. One of these features a remarkable layout, with seven sanctuaries at the back. It was built by Seti I, and includes an outer portico with square pillars, a hall with two rows of columns in the center, and a second hall with three rows of columns. These halls are arranged in a line to provide access to the seven sanctuaries. The second temple follows the standard design, featuring a pylon, a courtyard with porticos on all four sides, two halls of columns, and three sanctuaries at the rear. The next temple is at Dendera, which began under the second Ptolemy but wasn’t completed until Nero’s reign. It has been fully excavated and still has all its outer walls intact. Above Thebes is the temple of Esna, of which only the hall of columns has been cleared. The capitals at the front are designed like lotus buds, while those inside are carved with various types of river plants. The temple of Edfu is the best preserved in Egypt. Its layout (fig. 5) seems to have been established from the beginning, and it’s interesting to note that it reflects the traditional plan, which in Theban examples developed through additions by successive rulers. Its size is only slightly smaller than these. Its pylon (fig. 6) is 250 ft. wide and 150 ft. high; the first courtyard has porticoes on three sides. The grand hall of columns, all of the same height, is lit from above (fig. 7), facing the courtyard. This is followed by the second hall of columns, two vestibules, and the sanctuary, surrounded by a passage that provides access to the priests' rooms around it. The next temple, Kom Ombo, was dedicated to two deities, hence it has two sanctuaries.

Fig. 3.—Section through Hall of Columns, Karnak. a, Clerestory window.
Fig. 4.—Temple of Deir-el-Bahri, conjectural restoration by Prof. E. Brune.

The temples of Philae owe much of their beauty and picturesqueness to the island on which they are situated; their plans, and that of the long porticoes in front of the pylons of the great temple, being fitted to the irregularity of the site. In the first court is a well-preserved example of the Mammeisi temple (see Temple), the sanctuary and other rooms in which are entirely enclosed in a peristyle. It was built by Ptolemy Euergetes (247-222 B.C.). A second monarch of the same name (about 125 B.C.) built the pavilion on the north side of the island, known as “Pharaoh’s bed,” the roof of which was covered with stone slabs, resting on timber beams. In consequence of the building of the Assuan dam all these temples are submerged for the greater part of the year. The principal temples between Philae and the second cataract are:—Dabōd, of which little remains; Kartassi; Kalābsha, still preserving its pylon and great hall of columns; the Bēt el-Wāli, in which are two ancient polygonal columns; Gerf Husen, partially cut in the rock; Dakka; Wadi es-Sebū’a; and lastly Abū Simbel. Owing to the proximity of the ranges of hills to the Nile, there was no room for the ordinary type of temple at Abū Simbel, so that those founded here by Rameses the Great (c. 1300-1234 B.C.) were excavated in the rock. In the place of the pylon the side of the cliff was worked off, leaving in relief four immense seated figures, 66 ft. high. The first hall had three aisles, divided by four piers on each side, in front of which Osirid figures (18 ft. high) were carved; beyond was a second hall, vestibule and sanctuary. The long rectangular chambers on each side are provided with benches cut in the rock. The depth of the temple is 90 ft. There is a second temple of smaller size which faces the Nile.

The temples of Philae owe a lot of their beauty and charm to the island they’re on; their design, including the long porticoes in front of the pylons of the main temple, is adapted to the uneven landscape. In the first courtyard, there's a well-preserved example of the Mammeisi temple (see Temple), which has its sanctuary and other rooms fully enclosed by a peristyle. It was built by Ptolemy Euergetes (247-222 BCE). A second ruler with the same name (around 125 BCE) constructed the pavilion on the north side of the island, known as “Pharaoh’s bed,” which had a roof made of stone slabs supported by wooden beams. Due to the construction of the Assuan dam, most of these temples are underwater for a large part of the year. The main temples between Philae and the second cataract include: Dabōd, where little remains; Kartassi; Kalābsha, which still has its pylon and large hall of columns; the Bēt el-Wāli, which features two ancient polygonal columns; Gerf Husen, partially carved into the rock; Dakka; Wadi es-Sebū’a; and finally Abū Simbel. Because the hills are so close to the Nile, there was no space for a typical temple at Abū Simbel, so the ones established here by Rameses the Great (around 1300-1234 B.C.) were carved directly into the rock. Instead of a pylon, the cliff face was shaped to showcase four massive seated figures, each 66 ft. high. The first hall had three aisles, separated by four piers on each side, in front of which were carved Osirid figures (18 ft. high); beyond that was a second hall, vestibule, and sanctuary. The long rectangular chambers on either side are fitted with rock-cut benches. The depth of the temple is 90 ft. There’s also a smaller second temple that faces the Nile.

Figure. 5.—Plan of the Temple of Edfu.

AA, Pylon.

AA, Pylon.

B, Entrance door.

B, Front door.

C, Great Court.

C, Main Court.

D, Hall of Columns.

D, Columns Hall.

E, Second Hall.

E, Second Floor.

F, Hall of the Altar.

F, Altar Hall.

G, Hall of the Centre.

G, Centre Hall.

H, Sanctuary.

Hey, Sanctuary.

KK, Storerooms.

Okay, storage rooms.

We have already referred to the lotus columns at Beni Hasan; these, when employed constructionally to carry stone roofs, assumed a far more solid appearance, and the stems of the lotus plant carved in the earlier examples were omitted in the later, in order to give more surface for intaglio carving. The capital and its neck still retain the lotus buds and the bands which tied them round the column. In the central avenues of the great halls the columns had bell capitals, the decoration of which was based on the flower of the papyrus. There are a few examples of the palm capital, often carved in granite, which date from an early period. Commencing with the Ptolemaic revival the capitals assume a much greater variety of form, their decoration being based on river plants; but here again the lotus plant, which seems still to be the favourite type, predominates, the buds in various degrees of their growth alternating one with the other. All these varieties of form are described in the article Capital, but two or three may be mentioned here, as they depart from the usual type. The Hathor-headed capital, with faces on all four sides, and surmounted with a miniature shrine, is found at Dendera, Philae and other temples of the Ptolemaic or Roman periods; one of the earliest examples, but without the shrine, dates back to Tethmosis III. (1503-1449 B.C.). As a distinct type of pier decoration, the Osirid figures at Medinet Abu, at Karnak, Gerf Husen, Abu Simbel and other temples, constitute important features: the figure is carved in front of the pier and does not serve any constructive function.

We’ve already mentioned the lotus columns at Beni Hasan; when used structurally to support stone roofs, they looked much more solid. The stems of the lotus plant that were carved in the earlier examples were left out in the later ones to create more surface for intaglio carving. The capital and its neck still have the lotus buds and the bands that wrapped around the column. In the main pathways of the great halls, the columns featured bell capitals, decorated based on the papyrus flower. There are a few instances of the palm capital, often carved from granite, which date back to an earlier period. Starting with the Ptolemaic revival, the capitals took on a much wider variety of forms, with decorations inspired by river plants; still, the lotus plant remains the favorite type, with buds at different stages of growth alternating with each other. All these variations are discussed in the article Capital, but a couple may be mentioned here as they differ from the typical style. The Hathor-headed capital, with faces on all four sides and topped with a miniature shrine, can be found at Dendera, Philae, and other temples from the Ptolemaic or Roman periods; one of the earliest examples, but without the shrine, goes back to Tethmosis III. (1503-1449 BCE). As a unique type of pier decoration, the Osirid figures at Medinet Abu, Karnak, Gerf Husen, Abu Simbel, and other temples are significant features: the figure is carved in front of the pier and doesn’t serve any structural purpose.

With the exception of the great building in the rear of the temple at Karnak, built by Tethmosis III., and the pavilion of Medinet Abū on the west bank of the Nile at Thebes, no palatial residences of any importance have yet been found, from which it might be inferred that the king, being the head of the Egyptian religion, occupied with his family the sacred precincts of the temple; but large as these temple enclosures are, there would have been no room for the immense army of attendants and servants required in an Oriental court. Moreover, the darkness of the halls and the rigid enclosures would have made a residence in them anything but cheerful. There are two instances where, in consequence of the subsequent desertion of the site, remains have been found of ancient towns. At Tell el-Amarna, built by the heretic king, Akhenaton, portions of the houses remain, and at Kahun, in the Fayum, Petrie discovered the walls of a town which, erected for the overseers and workmen employed in the construction of the pyramid of Illahun, 374 built by Senwosri (Usertesen) II. (2684-2666 B.C.), was abandoned when the pyramid was completed. The houses were all built in unburnt brick, and in those cases where the rooms exceeded 8 or 9 ft. in width, columns in stone or wood were employed to assist in carrying the roof, which was constructed of beams carrying smaller timbers covered over with a flat roof of mud. The plans of the houses were not unlike those found in Pompeii, with open courts and porticoes and no external windows. The streets ran at right angles to one another, and the houses varied in size from the workman’s hut, of one room, to the overseer’s house with several rooms and courts; the principal residence, in the centre, occupied by the governor of the town, being of still larger dimensions.

Aside from the impressive structure at the back of the temple in Karnak, built by Tethmosis III, and the pavilion at Medinet Abū on the west bank of the Nile in Thebes, no significant palatial homes have been discovered. This suggests that the king, as the leader of the Egyptian religion, lived with his family in the sacred temple area. However, the large temple grounds would not have provided enough space for the vast army of attendants and servants needed in an Eastern court. Additionally, the dark halls and confined spaces would have made living there anything but pleasant. There are two cases where remains of ancient towns have been found due to the later abandonment of the site. At Tell el-Amarna, established by the heretical king Akhenaton, parts of the houses still exist, and at Kahun in the Fayum, Petrie uncovered the walls of a town built for the overseers and workers involved in constructing the pyramid of Illahun, built by Senwosri (Usertesen) II (2684-2666 B.C.), which was deserted after the pyramid's completion. The houses were all made of unburnt brick, and in cases where the rooms were wider than 8 or 9 feet, stone or wooden columns were used to support the roof, which consisted of beams carrying smaller timbers topped with a flat mud roof. The layouts of the houses were similar to those found in Pompeii, featuring open courtyards and porticoes with no outside windows. The streets intersected at right angles, and the houses varied in size from a one-room worker’s hut to a larger overseer’s house with multiple rooms and courtyards; the main residence in the center, occupied by the town governor, was even larger.

Fig. 6.—Exterior of the Pylon of the Temple of Edfu.
Fig. 7.—Façade of the Great Hall of Columns of the Ptolemaic temple at Edfu.

Further knowledge of the Egyptian dwellings is chiefly derived from the “soul-houses” recently discovered by Petrie, and from the paintings in the tombs, which suggest that they corresponded to that class of residence which in Rome was known as a villa, viz. a series of detached buildings built in immense enclosures, with porticoes round, groves of trees, artificial lakes, &c. The walls, gates and buildings were all built probably in unburnt brick, and the whole site, if on the borders of the river, raised on great mounds. In this respect they accord with the houses of the fellah at the present day, which are raised on the accumulation of centuries, for when, owing to the rise of the Nile, the houses succumb to the moisture creeping up, another house is built on the top. The representations in paintings show that the houses were chiefly built in unburnt brick, and they sometimes were of two or three storeys with windows in the upper floors, and a flat roof with a kind of dormer known as the Mulhuf, turned towards the north-west to ventilate the house. The paintings frequently represent the store-rooms, or granaries; and the preservation of those built by Rameses the Great, in the rear of the Ramesseum at Thebes, as granaries to hold corn, enables us to follow their construction. These granaries consist of a series of long cellars, about 12 to 14 ft. wide, placed side by side, and roofed over with elliptical barrel vaults. The reason for the elliptical form and the method of their construction is given in the article Vault (q.v.).

Further knowledge of Egyptian homes mainly comes from the "soul-houses" recently discovered by Petrie and from the paintings found in tombs, suggesting that they were similar to the types of residences known as villas in Rome. These were a series of separate buildings set within large enclosures, featuring porticoes, tree groves, artificial lakes, etc. The walls, gates, and buildings were likely constructed from unbaked brick, and if located near the river, the entire site was likely elevated on large mounds. This aligns with the houses of the fellah today, which are built on layers accumulated over centuries; when houses succumb to moisture from the rising Nile, a new house is built on top. The paintings show that the houses were primarily constructed from unbaked brick and were sometimes two or three stories high, with windows on the upper floors and a flat roof featuring a type of dormer known as the Mulhuf, facing northwest for ventilation. The paintings often depict store-rooms or granaries, and the preservation of those built by Rameses the Great at the back of the Ramesseum in Thebes, used to store grain, allows us to understand their construction. These granaries are made up of a series of long cellars about 12 to 14 ft. wide, placed side by side and covered with elliptical barrel vaults. The reason for the elliptical design and the method of construction is discussed in the article Vault (q.v.).

The pavilion of Medinet Abū was built in stone, and consequently has been preserved more or less complete to our day. It consisted of three storeys with a flat roof and battlement round, said to be in imitation of those on a Syrian fortress, as they are quite unlike anything else in Egypt. The floors were in wood, but there are traces of a stone staircase. The windows, of large size, were filled with thin stone slabs pierced with vertical slits, like those of the hall of columns at Karnak.

The pavilion of Medinet Abū was built from stone, so it has mostly survived intact to this day. It had three stories with a flat roof and battlements around the top, which are said to be modeled after those on a Syrian fortress, as they look quite different from anything else in Egypt. The floors were wooden, but there are signs of a stone staircase. The large windows were filled with thin stone slabs that were cut with vertical slits, similar to those in the hall of columns at Karnak.

(R. P. S.)

Assyrian Architecture

Assyrian architecture

About 3800 B.C. the earlier inhabitants of Chaldaea or Babylonia were invaded and absorbed by a Semitic race, whose first monarch was Sargon of Agade (Akkad). 1800 years later, emigrations took place northward, and founded Nineveh on the banks of the Tigris, about 250 m. north of Babylon. 1200 years later, the Assyrians began building the magnificent series of palaces from which were brought the winged man-headed bulls and the sculptured slabs now in the British Museum. The leading characteristics of the style, and the nature of the structures, temples and palaces, evolved by the Chaldaeans (or first Babylonian empire), the Assyrians, and the new Babylonian empire, are similar; they are best known by those which represent a culmination of the style in north Mesopotamia, and are therefore described here.

About 3800 BCE, the early inhabitants of Chaldaea, or Babylon, were invaded and absorbed by a Semitic group, whose first king was Sargon of Agade (Akkad). 1800 years later, people began moving north and founded Nineveh on the banks of the Tigris, about 250 miles north of Babylon. 1200 years after that, the Assyrians started building the impressive series of palaces that produced the winged man-headed bulls and sculptured slabs now housed in the British Museum. The main features of the style and the types of structures—temples and palaces—developed by the Chaldaeans (or the first Babylonian empire), the Assyrians, and the new Babylonian empire are similar; they are best known through those that represent the peak of the style in northern Mesopotamia, and are therefore described here.

By a singular coincidence the remains of the oldest building found at Nippur (Niffar), in lower Mesopotamia, bear a close resemblance to the oldest pyramid in Egypt, Medum, before it received its final casing. The latter, however, is known to have been a tomb, whereas the structure at Nippur was a temple, which took the form of a ziggurat or stage tower. It consisted of several storeys built one over the other, the upper storey in each case being set back behind the lower, in order to leave a terrace all round. In some cases the terrace was wider in front, to give space for staircases ascending from storey to storey. In consequence of the extreme flatness of the country and its liability to sudden inundations, it became necessary, when erecting buildings of any kind, to raise them on mounds of earth. The more important the structure, the higher was it deemed necessary to raise it, so as to make it the most conspicuous feature in the landscape. The result is that from Abu Shahrain, the most southern town, to Akarkuf (Aqarquf), 220 m. north, there are a series of immense mounds, sometimes nearly a mile in diameter, and rising to a height of 200 ft., crowned with the remains of towns, which, notwithstanding the thirty centuries more or less during which they have been exposed to the torrential rains and the destructive agencies of man, form still the most prominent features in the country. The structures which were raised on the mound, i.e. the temples and palaces with their enclosure walls, were all built with bricks made of the alluvial clay of the country, shaped in wooden moulds and dried in the heat of the sun, a heat so intense that they acquired sometimes the hardness of the inferior qualities of stone. The walls of the temples, palaces and enclosures had the same batter as that already referred to in the preceding section on Egypt. In the latter country they were reproduced in stone, of which there were many quarries on either side of the Nile; in Chaldaea they were obliged to content themselves with the preservation of their ziggurats by outer casings of burnt brick and with pavements of tiles for their terraces. In order to vary the monotony of their temple walls, and perhaps to give them greater strength, they built vertical bands or buttresses at intervals, or they sank panels in the walls to two depths, a natural decoration to which brick work lends itself; and these two methods, which were employed in early times, were followed by the Assyrians in the palaces of Nimrud, Nineveh and Khorsabad.

By a remarkable coincidence, the remains of the oldest building discovered at Nippur (Niffar) in lower Mesopotamia closely resemble the oldest pyramid in Egypt, Medum, before it was fully cased. The pyramid is recognized as a tomb, while the structure at Nippur was a temple that took the shape of a ziggurat or stage tower. It had several stories stacked on top of each other, with each upper story set back from the one below to create a terrace all around. In some instances, the terrace was broader in front to accommodate staircases leading from one story to the next. Due to the area's extreme flatness and its vulnerability to sudden floods, it was necessary to raise any buildings on mounds of earth. The more significant the structure, the higher it needed to be elevated to stand out in the landscape. As a result, from Abu Shahrain, the southernmost town, to Akarkuf (Aqarquf) 220 meters north, there is a series of enormous mounds, sometimes nearly a mile in diameter and rising to a height of 200 feet, topped with the remains of towns that, despite being exposed to torrential rains and destructive forces of man for about thirty centuries, still stand out as the most prominent features in the area. The buildings erected on the mounds, such as temples and palaces with their enclosing walls, were constructed using bricks made from the region's alluvial clay, shaped in wooden molds and dried in the intense heat of the sun, giving them a hardness sometimes comparable to lower-quality stone. The walls of the temples, palaces, and enclosures had the same batter as previously mentioned in the section on Egypt. In Egypt, they used stone obtained from the numerous quarries along the Nile, while in Chaldaea, they had to settle for preserving their ziggurats with outer casings of burnt brick and tile pavements for their terraces. To break the monotony of their temple walls and perhaps enhance their strength, they constructed vertical bands or buttresses at intervals or recessed panels into the walls to two depths, a natural decoration suited to brickwork. These two techniques, used in early times, were later adopted by the Assyrians in the palaces of Nimrud, Nineveh, and Khorsabad.

The earlier settlements were those founded between the mouths of the Tigris and the Euphrates, on what was then the shore of the Persian Gulf, now some 140 m. farther south. The principal towns where the remains of ziggurats have been found, all on the borders of the Euphrates, beginning with the most southern, are:—Abu Shahrain (Eridu); Mugheir (Ur of the Chaldees); Senkera (? Ellasar or Larsa); Warka (Erech); Tello (Eninnu); Nippur; Birs Nimrud (Borsippa); Babil (Babylon); El Ohemir (Kish); Abu Habba (Sippara); and Akarkuf (Durkurigalsu).

The earlier settlements were established between the mouths of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, on what used to be the shore of the Persian Gulf, which is now about 140 miles farther south. The main towns where the remains of ziggurats have been discovered, all located along the Euphrates, starting from the southernmost, are:—Abu Shahrain (Eridu); Mugheir (Ur of the Chaldees); Senkera (? Ellasar or Larsa); Warka (Erech); Tello (Eninnu); Nippur; Birs Nimrud (Borsippa); Babil (Babylon); El Ohemir (Kish); Abu Habba (Sippara); and Akarkuf (Durkurigalsu).

Although the ziggurats at Warka, Nippur and Tello are probably of older foundation, the great temple of Borsippa at Birs Nimrud is in better preservation, having been restored or rebuilt by Nebuchadrezzar, and may be taken as a typical example. The ground storey was 272 ft. square, and, according to Fergusson, 45 ft. high. The upper storeys or stages receded back, one behind the other, so as to leave a terrace all round. Although it is not possible to trace more than four storeys, it is known from the description on a cylinder found on the site that there were seven storeys, dedicated to the planets, each coloured with the special tint prescribed. The total height was about 160 ft., and on the top was a shrine dedicated to the god Nebo. An invaluable record of the researches which have been made during the last three centuries or more is given in H.V. Hilprecht’s Explorations in Bible Lands during the 19th Century. Two or three of them might be mentioned here. At Warka Mr Kenneth Loftus uncovered a wall, strengthened by buttresses 15 ft. wide and projecting 18 in., between which were panels filled with a series of semicircular shafts side by side, both buttresses and shafts being decorated with geometrical patterns consisting of small earthenware cones embedded in the wall, the ends of which were enamelled in various colours. The design of these patterns is so unlike anything found in Assyrian work, but bears so close a resemblance to the geometrical designs carved on the columns at Diarbekr ascribed to the Parthians, that this wall may have been built at a much later period; and this becomes the more probable in view of the discoveries made subsequently at Tello and Nippur, where Parthian palaces have been found, crowning the summits of the ancient Chaldaean mounds. In both these towns the researches made in later years have been carried out far more methodically than previously, and, following the example of Schliemann, excavations have been made to great depths, careful notes being taken of the strata shown by the platforms at different levels. At Tello, de Sarzac discovered the magnificent collection of statues of diorite now in the Louvre, one of them (unfortunately headless) of Gudea, priest-king and architect of Lagash, seated and carrying on his lap a tablet, on which is engraved the plan of a fortified enclosure, whilst a divided scale and a stylos are carved in relief near the upper and right-hand side. A silver inlaid vase of Entemena, also priest-king of Lagash (about 3950 B.C.), and other treasures, were found on the same site.

Although the ziggurats at Warka, Nippur, and Tello are likely older, the great temple of Borsippa at Birs Nimrud is better preserved, having been restored or rebuilt by Nebuchadnezzar, and can be seen as a typical example. The ground floor was 272 ft. square and, according to Fergusson, 45 ft. high. The upper floors receded back, creating a terrace all around. While we can only trace four stories, a cylinder found on the site indicates that there were seven stories, each dedicated to the planets and painted in specific colors. The total height was about 160 ft., and on top was a shrine dedicated to the god Nebo. H.V. Hilprecht’s Explorations in Bible Lands during the 19th Century provides an invaluable record of the research conducted over the past three centuries or so. A couple of examples can be mentioned here. At Warka, Mr. Kenneth Loftus uncovered a wall that was reinforced by buttresses 15 ft. wide and projecting 18 in., with panels in between filled with semicircular shafts placed side by side. Both the buttresses and shafts were decorated with geometric patterns made of small earthenware cones embedded in the wall, their ends glazed in various colors. The design of these patterns is very different from Assyrian work but closely resembles the geometric designs carved on columns at Diarbekr attributed to the Parthians, suggesting this wall might have been constructed much later. This is more likely given the discoveries made later at Tello and Nippur, where Parthian palaces have been found on top of the ancient Chaldaean mounds. In both towns, recent research has been conducted much more systematically than before, and following Schliemann's example, excavations have gone to great depths, with careful notes taken on the strata revealed by the platforms at different levels. At Tello, de Sarzac discovered the impressive collection of diorite statues now in the Louvre, one of which (unfortunately headless) is of Gudea, the priest-king and architect of Lagash, seated and holding a tablet on his lap that features the plan of a fortified enclosure, while a divided scale and a stylus are carved in relief near the top right. A silver inlaid vase belonging to Entemena, another priest-king of Lagash (around 3950 BCE), and other treasures were also found at the site.

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At Nippur (the ancient Calneh) the research undertaken by the university of Pennsylvania resulted in the discovery, under a ziggurat dated from 4000-4500 B.C., of a barrel-vaulted tunnel, in the floor of which were found terra-cotta drain pipes with flanged mouths. At a later date (3750 B.C.) Naram-Sin, the son of Sargon, had built over the older ziggurat a loftier and larger temple, above which was a third built by Ur Gur (2500 B.C.), which still retained its burnt brick casing, 5 ft. thick. Crowning all these was the Parthian palace mentioned in the section on Parthian architecture below. The result of these researches has not only carried back the date of the earlier settlements to a prehistoric period quite unknown, but has suggested that if similar researches are carried out in other well-known mounds, among which the great city of Babylon should be counted as the most important, further revelations may still be made.

At Nippur (the ancient Calneh), research conducted by the University of Pennsylvania led to the discovery of a barrel-vaulted tunnel beneath a ziggurat dated to 4000-4500 BCE. In the floor of this tunnel, terra-cotta drain pipes with flanged mouths were found. Later, around 3750 BCE, Naram-Sin, the son of Sargon, built a taller and larger temple over the older ziggurat. Above that, Ur Gur (2500 B.C.) constructed a third temple that still had its 5 ft. thick burnt brick casing. Crowning all of these was the Parthian palace mentioned in the section on Parthian architecture below. The results of these studies have not only pushed back the date of earlier settlements to an unknown prehistoric period, but they also suggest that if similar research is conducted at other well-known mounds, particularly the great city of Babylon, we could uncover even more revelations.

From The History of Art in Chaldaea and Assyria, by permission of Chapman & Hill, Ltd.
Fig. 8—Plan of the Palace at Khorsabad.

A, Principal courtyard.

Main courtyard.

B, The harem.

B, The harem.

C, The offices.

C, The offices.

DD, The halls of state.

DD, The government halls.

E, Official residences.

E, Official residences.

F, The king’s residence.

F, The castle.

G, The ziggurat or temple.

G, The ziggurat or temple.

But we have now to pass to the principal cities of the Assyrian monarchy on the river Tigris. At Nineveh, the capital, which is about 250 m. north of Babylon, the remains of three palaces have been found, those of Sennacherib (705-681 B.C.), Esarhaddon (681-668 B.C.), and Assurbampal (668-626 B.C.). At Nimrud (the ancient Calah, founded by Assur), 20 m. south of Nineveh, are also three palaces, one (the earliest known) built by Assurnazirpal (885-860 B.C.), the others by Shalmaneser II. (860-825 B.C.) and Esarhaddon. At Balawat, 10 m. east of Niniveh, was a second palace of Shalmaneser II., and at Khorsabad, 10 m. north-east of Nineveh, the palace (fig. 8) built by Sargon (722-705 B.C.), which was situated on the banks of the Khanser, a tributary of the Tigris. As this palace is one of the most extensive of those hitherto explored, its description will best give the general idea of the plan and conception of an Assyrian palace.

But now we need to talk about the main cities of the Assyrian empire along the Tigris River. In Nineveh, the capital located about 250 miles north of Babylon, remains of three palaces have been discovered: those of Sennacherib (705-681 B.C.), Esarhaddon (681-668 B.C.), and Assurbanipal (668-626 B.C.). At Nimrud (the ancient Calah, founded by Assur), 20 miles south of Nineveh, there are also three palaces, one built by Assurnasirpal (885-860 B.C.), and the others by Shalmaneser II (860-825 B.C.) and Esarhaddon. At Balawat, 10 miles east of Nineveh, there was a second palace of Shalmaneser II, and at Khorsabad, 10 miles northeast of Nineveh, lies the palace built by Sargon (722-705 B.C.), located on the banks of the Khanser, a tributary of the Tigris. Since this palace is one of the largest that has been explored so far, its description will provide the best understanding of the layout and design of an Assyrian palace.

The palace was built on an immense platform, made of sun-dried bricks, enclosed in masonry, and covering an area of nearly one million square feet, raised 48 ft. above the town level. The principal front of the palace measured 900 ft., there being a terrace in front. The approach was probably by a double inclined ramp which chariots and horses could mount. A central and two side portals (fig. 9), flanked with winged human-headed bulls (now in the British Museum), led to the principal courtyard (A), measuring 300 ft. by 240 ft. The block (B) on the left of the court, containing smaller courts and rooms, constituted the harem; that on the right the offices (C); those in the rear the halls of state (DDD), the residences of the officers of the court (E), the king’s private apartments (F) being on the left, facing the ziggurat or temple (G). In the extreme rear were other state rooms with terraces probably laid out as gardens and commanding a view of the river and country beyond.

The palace was built on a massive platform made of sun-dried bricks, surrounded by masonry, and covered nearly one million square feet, elevated 48 feet above the town level. The main front of the palace was 900 feet long, with a terrace in front. The entrance was likely via a double inclined ramp that could accommodate chariots and horses. A central portal and two side portals (fig. 9), flanked by winged human-headed bulls (now in the British Museum), led to the main courtyard (A), which measured 300 feet by 240 feet. The block (B) on the left of the courtyard, containing smaller courts and rooms, housed the harem; the one on the right was for the offices (C); those at the back were the halls of state (DDD), the residences for the court officers (E), with the king's private rooms (F) on the left, facing the ziggurat or temple (G). At the very back were additional state rooms with terraces that were probably set up as gardens, offering views of the river and the surrounding countryside.

Fig. 9.—Entrance gateway, Palace of Khorsabad.
Fig. 10.—Bas-relief of group of buildings at Kuyunjik. (After Layard.)

As there must have been nearly 700 rooms in the palace, the destination of the greater number of which it would be difficult to determine, it will be sufficient to refer only to those state rooms in which the principal sculptured slabs were found, and which decorated the lower 9 ft. of the walls. The two chief factors to be noted are (1) the great length of the halls compared with their width, the chief hall being 150 ft. long and 30 ft. wide, and (2) the immense thickness of the walls, which measured 28 ft. The only reason for walls of this thickness would be to resist the thrust of a vault, and as La Place, the French explorer, found many blocks of earth of great size, the soffits of which were covered with stucco and had apparently fallen from a height, he was led to the conclusion, now generally accepted, that these halls were vaulted. These discoveries, and the fact that in none of the palaces excavated has a single foundation of the base of any column been found, quite dispose of Fergusson’s restoration, which was based on the palaces of Persepolis. Moreover, the two climates are entirely different. In the mountainous country of Persia the breezes might be welcomed, but in Mesopotamia the heat is so intense that every precaution has to be taken to protect the inmates of the house or palace. Thick walls and vaults were a necessity in Nineveh, and even the windows or openings must have been of small dimensions. No windows have been found, nor are any shown on the bas-reliefs, except on the upper parts of towers. It is possible therefore that the light was admitted through terra-cotta pipes or cylinders, of which many were found on the site, and this is the modern system of lighting the dome in the East. Although no remains have ever been found of domes in any of the Assyrian palaces, the representation of many domical 376 forms is given in a bas-relief found at Kuyunjik (fig. 10), suggesting that the dome was often employed to roof over their halls.

Since there were likely around 700 rooms in the palace, and figuring out the purpose of most of them is challenging, it suffices to focus on the state rooms where the main sculpted slabs were located, decorating the lower 9 feet of the walls. There are two main points to note: (1) the significant length of the halls compared to their width, with the primary hall measuring 150 feet long and 30 feet wide, and (2) the incredible thickness of the walls, which were 28 feet thick. The only explanation for walls this thick would be to withstand the pressure from a vault. French explorer La Place discovered numerous large earth blocks, the edges of which were covered in stucco and seemed to have collapsed from a height, leading him to the generally accepted conclusion that these halls were vaulted. These findings, along with the absence of any column base foundations in all the excavated palaces, effectively discredit Fergusson’s restoration based on the palaces of Persepolis. Additionally, the two regions have completely different climates. In the mountainous area of Persia, breezes would be pleasant, but in Mesopotamia, the heat is so extreme that every effort must be made to protect the residents of a house or palace. Thick walls and vaults were essential in Nineveh, and even the windows or openings had to be small. No windows have been discovered, nor are any depicted in the bas-reliefs, except in the upper sections of towers. Therefore, it’s possible that light came in through terra-cotta pipes or cylinders, many of which were found on site, which aligns with the modern method of lighting domes in the East. Although no remnants of domes have ever been found in any of the Assyrian palaces, representations of various domical shapes are depicted in a bas-relief discovered at Kuyunjik (fig. 10), suggesting that domes were commonly used to cover their halls.

Reference has already been made to the bas-reliefs which decorated the lower portion of the great halls; the less important rooms had their walls covered with stucco and painted. Externally the architectural decoration was of the simplest kind; the lower portion of the walls was faced with stone; and the monumental portals, in addition to the winged bulls which flanked them, had deep archivolts in coloured enamels on glazed brick, with figures and rosettes in bright colours. A similar decoration would seem to have been applied to the crenellated battlements, which crowned all the exterior walls, as also those of the courts. The buttresses inside the courts, and the towers which flanked the chief entrance, were decorated with vertical semicircular mouldings of brick. This system of decoration is also found in the ziggurats or observatories behind the harem, where the three lower storeys still exist. A winding ramp was carried round this tower, the storeys of which were set back one behind the other, the burnt brick paving of the ramp and the crenellated battlements forming a parapet, portions of which are still in situ.

Reference has already been made to the bas-reliefs that adorned the lower part of the grand halls; the less important rooms had their walls covered with stucco and paint. On the outside, the architectural decoration was quite simple; the lower part of the walls was faced with stone, and the monumental portals, along with the winged bulls on either side, featured deep archways in colored enamels on glazed brick, with figures and rosettes in vibrant colors. A similar decoration seems to have been applied to the crenellated battlements that topped all the exterior walls, as well as those of the courts. The buttresses inside the courts and the towers flanking the main entrance were decorated with vertical semicircular brick moldings. This style of decoration is also seen in the ziggurats or observatories behind the harem, where the three lower stories still stand. A winding ramp wrapped around this tower, with the stories stepping back from one another, and the burnt brick paving of the ramp and the crenellated battlements made up a parapet, parts of which are still in situ.

Although not unknown in either Chaldaea or Assyria, the stone column, according to Perrot and Chipiez, found no place in those structures of crude brick of which the real architecture of Mesopotamia consisted. Only one example in stone, in which the shaft and capital together are 3 ft. 4 in. in height, has been found. Two bases of similar design to the capital are supposed to have supported wooden columns carrying an awning. There are representations in the bas-reliefs of kiosks in a garden, the columns in which, with volute capitals, are supposed to have been of wood sheathed in metal, and on the bronze bands of the Balawat gates in the British Museum are representations of the interior of a house with wood columns and bracket capitals, and several awnings carried by posts. Small windows are shown in some of the bas-reliefs, with balustrades of small columns, which were doubtless copied from the ivory plaques found at Nimrud and now in the British Museum.

Although not unfamiliar in either Chaldea or Assyria, the stone column, according to Perrot and Chipiez, didn't have a place in the crude brick structures that made up the real architecture of Mesopotamia. Only one stone example, with a shaft and capital measuring 3 ft. 4 in. in height, has been discovered. Two bases similar in design to the capital are thought to have supported wooden columns that held up an awning. There are depictions in the bas-reliefs of kiosks in a garden, where the columns, featuring volute capitals, are believed to have been made of wood covered in metal. Additionally, the bronze bands of the Balawat gates in the British Museum show representations of the interior of a house with wooden columns and bracket capitals, alongside several awnings supported by posts. Small windows are depicted in some of the bas-reliefs, featuring balustrades made of small columns, likely inspired by the ivory plaques found at Nimrud, which are now in the British Museum.

(R. P. S.)

Persian Architecture

Persian Architecture

The origin of Persian architecture must be sought for in that of the two earlier dynasties,—the Assyrian and Median, to whose empire the Persian monarchy succeeded by conquest in 560 B.C. From the former, it borrowed the raised platform on which their palaces were built, the broad flights of steps leading up to them and the winged human-headed bulls which flank the portals of the propylaea. From Media it would seem to have derived the great halls of columns and the porticoes of the palaces, so clearly described by Polybius (x. 24) as existing at Ecbatana; the principal difference being that the columns of the stoas and peristyle, which there consisted of cedar and cypress covered with silver plates, were in the Persian palaces built of stone. The ephemeral nature of the one material, and the intrinsic value of the other, are sufficient to account for their entire disappearance; but as Ecbatana was occupied by Darius and Xerxes as one of their principal cities, the stone column, bases and capitals, which still exist there, may be regarded as part of the restoration and rebuilding of the palace; and as they are similar to those found at Persepolis and Susa, it is fair to assume that the source of the first inspiration of Persian architecture came from the Medians, especially as Cyrus, the first king, was brought up at the court of Astyages, the last Median monarch.

The origins of Persian architecture can be traced back to the earlier Assyrian and Median dynasties, whose empires the Persian monarchy took over by conquest in 560 BCE From the Assyrians, it adopted the raised platforms for their palaces, the wide staircases leading up to them, and the winged human-headed bulls that flank the entrances of the propylaea. From the Medians, it seems to have taken the grand columned halls and the porticoes of the palaces, which Polybius (x. 24) described as being found in Ecbatana. The main difference is that the columns of the stoas and peristyle there were made of cedar and cypress covered in silver plates, while the Persian palaces used stone. The temporary nature of the former material and the inherent value of the latter explain their complete disappearance. However, since Ecbatana was occupied by Darius and Xerxes as one of their key cities, the stone columns, bases, and capitals that still stand there can be considered part of the restoration and rebuilding of the palace. Additionally, as they resemble those found in Persepolis and Susa, it's reasonable to believe that the initial inspiration for Persian architecture came from the Medians, especially since Cyrus, the first king, was raised at the court of Astyages, the last Median monarch.

The earliest Persian palace, of which but scanty remains have been found, was built at Pasargadae by Cyrus. There is sufficient, however, to show that it was of the simplest kind, and consisted of a central hall, the roof of which was carried by two rows of stone columns, 30 ft. high, and porticoes in antis on two if not on three sides.

The earliest Persian palace, of which only a few remains have been found, was built at Pasargadae by Cyrus. There is enough to show that it was quite simple and consisted of a central hall supported by two rows of stone columns, 30 ft. high, and porticoes in antis on two, if not three, sides.

The great platform, also at Pasargadae, known as the Takht-i-Suleiman, or throne of Solomon, covered an area of about 40,000 sq. ft., and is remarkable for the beauty of its masonry and the large stones of which it is built. These are all sunk round the edge, being the earliest example of what is known as “drafted masonry,” which at Jerusalem and Hebron gives so magnificent an effect to the great walls of the temple enclosures. No remains have ever been traced on this platform of the palace which it was probably built to support.

The large platform at Pasargadae, called the Takht-i-Suleiman, or throne of Solomon, covers an area of about 40,000 sq. ft. It's notable for its beautiful masonry and the large stones used in its construction. The stones are all set into the ground around the edge, representing the earliest example of what is known as "drafted masonry," which creates a stunning effect on the great walls of the temple enclosures in Jerusalem and Hebron. No traces of the palace that it was likely built to support have ever been found on this platform.

Fig. 11.

We pass on therefore to Persepolis, the most important of the Persian cities, if we may judge by the remains still existing there. Here, as at Pasargadae, builders availed themselves of a natural rocky platform, at the foot of a range of hills, which they raised in parts and enclosed with a stone wall. Here the masonry is not drafted, and the stones are not always laid in horizontal courses, but they are shaped and fitted to one another with the greatest accuracy, and are secured by metal clamps. The plan (fig. 11) shows the general configuration of the platform on which the palaces of Persepolis are built, which covered an area of about 1,600,000 sq. ft. The principal approach to it was at the north-west end, up a magnificent flight of steps (A) with a double ramp, the steps being 22 ft. wide, with a tread of 15 in. and a rise of 4, so that they could be 377 ascended by horses. The first building opposite this staircase was the entrance gateway or propylaea (B), a square hall, with four columns carrying the roof and with portals in the front and rear flanked by winged bulls. The earliest palace on the platform (D) is that which was built by Darius, 521 B.C. It was rectangular on plan, raised on a platform approached by two flights of steps, and consisted of an entrance portico of eight columns, in two rows of four placed in antis, between square chambers, in which were probably staircases leading to the roof. This portico led to the great hall, square on plan, whose roof was carried by sixteen columns in four rows. This hall was lighted by two windows on each side of the central doorway, all of which, being in stone, still exist, the lintels and jambs of both doors and windows being monolithic. The walls between these features, having been built in unburnt brick, or in rubble masonry with clay mortar, have long since disappeared. There were other rooms on each side of the hall and an open court in the rear. The bases of the columns of the portico still remain in situ, as also one of the antae in solid masonry; and as these in their relative position and height are in exact accordance with those represented on the tomb of Darius (fig. 12) and other tombs carved in the rock near Persepolis (q.v.), there is no difficulty in forming a fairly accurate conjectural restoration of the same. In the representation of this palace, as shown on the tomb, and above the portico, has been sculptured the great throne of Darius, on which he sat, rendering adoration to the Sun god.

We now move on to Persepolis, the most significant of the Persian cities, based on the remains that still exist there. Similar to Pasargadae, the builders took advantage of a natural rocky platform at the base of a hill range, which they elevated in parts and surrounded with a stone wall. The masonry isn't drafted, and the stones aren't always laid in horizontal rows; however, they are shaped and fit together with remarkable precision and held in place by metal clamps. The layout (fig. 11) illustrates the general shape of the platform where the palaces of Persepolis were constructed, covering an area of about 1,600,000 sq. ft. The main entrance was at the north-west end, up a stunning flight of steps (A) with a double ramp, the steps being 22 ft. wide, with a tread of 15 in. and a rise of 4, allowing horses to ascend. The first structure facing this staircase was the entrance gateway or propylaea (B), a square hall with four columns supporting the roof, and with portals at the front and back flanked by winged bulls. The earliest palace on the platform (D) was built by Darius in 521 B.C.E. It had a rectangular layout, raised on a platform with two staircases leading up to it, featuring an entrance portico with eight columns arranged in two rows of four placed in antis, between square chambers that likely housed staircases leading to the roof. This portico led to the great hall, also square in layout, which was supported by sixteen columns arranged in four rows. The hall was lit by two windows on each side of the central doorway, all made of stone and still intact, with monolithic lintels and jambs for both doors and windows. The walls between these features, constructed of unburnt brick or rubble masonry with clay mortar, have long since vanished. There were additional rooms on each side of the hall and an open courtyard at the back. The bases of the portico columns still remain in situ, along with one of the antae in solid masonry; since these match in position and height with those depicted on the tomb of Darius (fig. 12) and other tombs carved in the rock near Persepolis (q.v.), it’s fairly easy to create a reasonably accurate conjectural reconstruction of the same. The representation of this palace on the tomb features the great throne of Darius above the portico, where he is shown worshipping the Sun god.

Fig. 12.—The Tomb of Darius, cut in the cliff at Nakshi Rustam, near Persepolis.

All the other palaces on the site, built or added to by various monarchs and at different periods, preserve very much the same plan, consisting always of a great square hall, the roof of which was carried by columns, with one or more porticoes round, and smaller rooms and courts in the rear. In one of the palaces (G) the roof was carried by 100 columns in ten rows of ten each. The most important building, however, and one which from its extent, height and magnificence, is one of the most stupendous works of antiquity, is the great palace of Xerxes (C), which, though it consists only of a great central hall and three porticoes, covered an area of over 100,000 sq. ft., greater than any European cathedral, those of Milan and St Peter’s at Rome alone excepted.

All the other palaces on the site, built or expanded by different monarchs over various periods, follow a similar layout, always featuring a large square hall supported by columns, with one or more porticoes around it, and smaller rooms and courtyards at the back. In one of the palaces (G), the roof was supported by 100 columns arranged in ten rows of ten each. However, the most significant building, and one that, due to its size, height, and grandeur, stands as one of the most impressive works of ancient times, is the great palace of Xerxes (C). Even though it consists of just a large central hall and three porticoes, it spans over 100,000 square feet, surpassing any European cathedral, except for those in Milan and St. Peter’s in Rome.

It was built on a platform raised 10 ft. above the terrace and approached by four flights of steps on the north side, the principal entrance. The columns of the porticoes and of the great hall were 65 ft. high, including base and capital. In the east and west porticoes the capitals consist only of the double bull or griffin; the cross corbels on their backs, similar to those shown on the tomb of Darius, have disappeared, being probably in wood. In the north or entrance portico, and in the great hall, the capitals are of a much more elaborated nature, as under the double capital was a composition of Ionic capitals set on end, and below that the calix and pendant leaves of the lotus plant. It can only be supposed that Xerxes, thinking the columns of the east portico required more decoration, instructed his architects to add some to those of the entrance portico and hall, and that they copied some of the spoils brought from Branchidae and others from Egypt.

It was built on a platform elevated 10 ft. above the terrace and accessed by four sets of stairs on the north side, which is the main entrance. The columns of the porticoes and the grand hall stood 65 ft. tall, including the base and capital. In the east and west porticoes, the capitals feature only the double bull or griffin; the cross corbels on their backs, similar to those seen on Darius's tomb, have likely vanished, probably made of wood. In the north or entrance portico, and in the grand hall, the capitals are much more intricate, as beneath the double capital was a series of Ionic capitals placed upright, and below that are the calyx and dangling leaves of the lotus plant. It can be assumed that Xerxes, believing the columns of the east portico needed more embellishment, directed his architects to enhance those of the entrance portico and hall, and that they drew inspiration from some of the spoils brought from Branchidae and others from Egypt.

Fig. 13 shows the plan of the palace according to the researches of Mr Weld Blundell, who found the traces of the walls surrounding the great hall and of the square chambers at the angles, and also proved that the lines of the drains as shown in Coste’s and Texier’s plans were incorrect. M. Dieulafoy also traced the existence of walls enclosing the Apadana at Susa from the paving of the hall and the portico which stopped on the lines of the wall. The plan of the palace at Susa was similar to that of the palace of Xerxes, except that on the side facing the garden facing south the apadana or throne room was left open. M. Dieulafoy’s discoveries at Susa of the frieze of archers, the frieze of the lions, and other decorations of the walls flanking the staircase, all executed in bright coloured enamels on concrete blocks, revealed the exceptional beauty of the decoration both externally and internally applied to the Persian palaces.

Fig. 13 shows the layout of the palace based on the research of Mr. Weld Blundell, who identified the remains of the walls surrounding the great hall and the square chambers at the corners. He also confirmed that the drain lines depicted in Coste’s and Texier’s plans were incorrect. M. Dieulafoy further traced walls surrounding the Apadana at Susa from the flooring of the hall and the portico, which ended along the wall lines. The palace layout at Susa was similar to that of Xerxes' palace, except that the apadana or throne room on the south side facing the garden was left open. M. Dieulafoy’s findings at Susa, including the frieze of archers, the frieze of the lions, and other decorative elements along the staircase walls, all crafted in vibrant colored enamels on concrete blocks, showcased the remarkable beauty of the decoration applied both outside and inside the Persian palaces.

From R.P. Spier’s Architecture, East and West.
Fig. 13.—Plan of the Hall of Xerxes.

The only other monumental works of Persian architecture are the tombs; to those cut in the solid rock, of which there are some examples, we have already referred. The most ancient tomb is that erected to Cyrus the Elder at Pasargadae, and consists of a small shrine or cella in masonry raised on a series of steps, inspired (according to Fergusson) by the ziggurat or terrace-temples of Assyria, but on a small scale. The tomb was surrounded on three sides by porticoes of columns. There are two other tombs, one at Persepolis and one at Pasargadae—small square towers with an entrance opening high up on one side, sunk panels in the stone, and a dentil cornice, copied from early Ionian buildings.

The only other significant examples of Persian architecture are the tombs; we’ve already mentioned those carved into solid rock. The oldest tomb is the one built for Cyrus the Elder at Pasargadae, which features a small shrine or cella made of masonry raised on a series of steps, inspired (according to Fergusson) by the ziggurats or terrace-temples of Assyria, though on a smaller scale. The tomb is surrounded on three sides by porticoes of columns. There are two other tombs, one in Persepolis and the other in Pasargadae—small square towers with an entrance opening high up on one side, recessed panels in the stone, and a dentil cornice, modeled after early Ionian buildings.

(R. P. S.)

Greek Architecture

Greek Architecture

Prehistoric Period.—We have now to retrace our steps and go back to the prehistoric period of Greek architecture, to the origin and early development of that style which sowed the seed and determined the future form and growth of all subsequent European art.

Prehistoric Period.—We now need to go back and revisit the prehistoric period of Greek architecture, to the beginning and early evolution of that style which planted the seeds and shaped the future form and development of all later European art.

The discoveries in Crete and Argolis have shown that Greek architecture owes much less than was at one time supposed to Egyptian and Chaldaean architecture; and although from very early times there may have been a commercial exchange between the several countries, the objects imported suggested only new and various schemes of decorative design, and exercised no influence on the development of architectural style. The remains of the palace at Cnossus in Crete, together with the representations in fresco painting and other decorative objects, show that whilst the lower part of the walls under the level of the ground and up to a height of 5 ft. above were all built in well-worked masonry, the upper portions were constructed in unburnt brick with timber framing, which not only gave strength and solidity to the walls, but carried the cross beams and timbers of intermediate floors and the roof, and further, that the walls were always vertical, which was not the case in Egypt or Chaldaea.

The findings in Crete and Argolis have revealed that Greek architecture is much less influenced by Egyptian and Chaldaean architecture than previously thought. While there might have been trade between these countries from early on, the imported items mainly inspired new and diverse decorative designs without impacting architectural style. The remains of the palace at Cnossus in Crete, along with fresco paintings and other decorative artifacts, demonstrate that the lower part of the walls, from ground level up to about 5 feet high, was built using well-crafted stonework. In contrast, the upper sections were made of unburnt brick with timber framing, which provided strength and stability for the walls, supported the crossbeams and timbers of the intermediate floors and roof, and ensured the walls were always vertical—unlike those in Egypt or Chaldaea.

The principal remains discovered by Dr Arthur J. Evans (see Crete) are described by him as belonging to the later Minoan age, from which it may be inferred they are the result of same 378 centuries of previous development. What, however, is most remarkable is the admirable planning of the whole palace, the bringing together, under one roof and in proper and regular intercommunication, of the numerous services, which in a palace are somewhat complicated. The palace measured about 400 ft. square, and was built round an open court, nearly 200 ft. long by 90 ft. wide; as the same arrangement was found at Phaestus, excavated by the Italian archaeologists, it may be assumed to have been the Cretan plan. It was built on the crest of a hill, and in the western or highest portion was the court entrance from the agora to the megaron or throne-room, and the halls of the officers of the state. In the lower portion facing the east (the rooms in which were two storeys below the level of the court on account of the slope of the hill) was the private suite of apartments of the king and queen. All the services of the palace were at the north end of the palace, where the entrance gateway to the central court was situated. This northern entrance, Dr Evans points out, “represents the main point of intercourse between the palace and the city on the one hand and the port on the other.” This is the only part of the palace in which there is evidence of some kind of fortification, as the road of access is dominated by a tower or bastion. Other provisions also in the plan of the western entrance suggest that its passage was guarded to some extent. In this respect the palace of Tiryns, excavated by Dr Schliemann, presents an entirely different aspect; the whole stronghold bears a singular resemblance to a fortified castle of the middle ages; a high wall from 24 to 50 ft. thick surrounded the acropolis, and the inclined paths of approach and the double gateways gave that protection at Tiryns which at Cnossus was assured, as Dr Evans remarks, by the bulwarks of the Minoan navy. The area on the spur of the hill, on which the citadel of Tiryns was placed, was very much smaller, but if we accept the forecourt at Tiryns as equivalent to the great central court at Cnossus, there are great similarities in the plans of the two palaces. The propylaea, the altar court, the portico, and the megaron are found in both, and those details which are missing in the one are found in the other. The discoveries at Cnossus have enabled Dr Evans to reconstitute the timber columns, of which the bases only were found at Tiryns, and the spur walls of the portico of the megaron and the sills of the doorways at Tiryns give some clue to the restoration of similar features at Cnossus; and if in the latter palace we find the origin of the Doric column, at Tiryns is found that of the antae and of the door linings, further substantiated by the careful analysis made by Dr Dörpfeld of the Heraeum at Olympia.

The main remains discovered by Dr. Arthur J. Evans (see Crete) are described by him as belonging to the later Minoan age, indicating they resulted from centuries of earlier development. What stands out the most is the impressive design of the entire palace, which efficiently combined various services under one roof with proper and regular communication—a complexity typical of palaces. The palace covered about 400 ft. square and was built around an open courtyard nearly 200 ft. long and 90 ft. wide; since the same layout was found at Phaestus, excavated by Italian archaeologists, it can be assumed this was the Cretan style. It was constructed on a hill's crest, with the court entrance located in the western, highest part, leading from the agora to the megaron or throne room and the halls for state officials. In the lower eastern section, whose rooms were two stories below the court level due to the slope of the hill, was the private suite for the king and queen. All the palace services were located at the north end, where the entrance to the central court was found. Dr. Evans notes that this northern entrance “represents the main point of interaction between the palace and the city on one side and the port on the other.” This is the only area of the palace showing signs of some kind of fortification, as access roads are overseen by a tower or bastion. Other features in the plan for the western entrance suggest that access was somewhat guarded. In contrast, the palace at Tiryns, excavated by Dr. Schliemann, presents a completely different picture; the entire stronghold strongly resembles a fortified medieval castle, surrounded by a high wall 24 to 50 ft. thick encircling the acropolis, with sloped paths and double gateways providing the protection at Tiryns that was assured at Cnossus, as Dr. Evans mentions, by the Minoan navy's defenses. The area at the spur of the hill, where the citadel of Tiryns was placed, was much smaller, but if we regard the forecourt at Tiryns as equivalent to the great central court at Cnossus, significant similarities in the designs of the two palaces emerge. The propylaea, altar court, portico, and megaron can be found in both, and the features missing in one are present in the other. The findings at Cnossus have allowed Dr. Evans to reconstruct the timber columns, of which only the bases were found at Tiryns. The spur walls of the portico of the megaron and the sills of the doorways at Tiryns provide clues for restoring similar features at Cnossus; and while we see the origin of the Doric column in the latter palace, Tiryns reveals the beginnings of the antae and door linings, further supported by Dr. Dörpfeld's careful analysis of the Heraeum at Olympia.

The reconstruction by Dr Evans of the timber columns at Cnossus, which tapered from the top downwards, the lower diameter being about six-sevenths of the upper, has little historical importance (see Order), so that we may now pass on to the next early monument of importance, the tomb of Agamemnon, the principal and the best preserved of the beehive tombs found at Mycenae and in other parts of Greece. This tomb consists of three parts, the dromos or open entrance passage, the tholos or circular portion domed over, and a smaller chamber excavated in the rock and entered from the larger one. The tomb was subterranean, the masonry being concealed beneath a large mound of earth. The domed part, 48 ft. 6 in. in diameter and 45 ft. high, is built in horizontal courses of stone, which project one over the other till they meet at the top. Subsequently the projecting edges were dressed down, so that the section through the dome is nearly that of an equilateral triangle. Notwithstanding the great thickness of the lintel (3 ft.) over the entrance doorway, the Mycenaeans left a triangular void over, to take off the superincumbent weight, subsequently (it is supposed) filled with sculpture, as in the Lions’ Gate at Mycenae. The doorway was flanked by semi-detached columns 20 ft. high, the shafts of which tapered downwards like those reconstituted at Cnossus; the shafts rested on a base of three steps, and carried a capital with echinus and abacus. These shafts carried a lintel which has now disappeared; the wall above was set back, and was at one time faced with stone slabs carved with spiral and other patterns, of which there are fragments in various museums, the most important remains being those of the shafts, of which the greater part, which was brought over to England in the beginning of the 19th century by the 2nd marquess of Sligo, was presented by the 5th marquess to the British Museum in 1905. These shafts, as also the echinus moulding of the capitals, are richly carved with the chevron and spirals, probably copied from the brass sheathing of wood columns and doorways referred to by Homer.

The reconstruction by Dr. Evans of the timber columns at Cnossus, which tapered from top to bottom, with the lower diameter being about six-sevenths of the upper, has little historical significance (see Order), so we can now move on to the next important early monument, the tomb of Agamemnon, the main and best-preserved of the beehive tombs found at Mycenae and in other areas of Greece. This tomb consists of three parts: the dromos or open entrance passage, the tholos or circular domed part, and a smaller chamber carved into the rock that is accessed from the larger one. The tomb was underground, with its masonry hidden beneath a large mound of earth. The domed section, 48 ft. 6 in. in diameter and 45 ft. high, is constructed in horizontal layers of stone, which project over each other until they meet at the top. The projecting edges were later smoothed down, so that the cross-section of the dome resembles an equilateral triangle. Despite the thickness of the lintel (3 ft.) above the entrance, the Mycenaeans left a triangular space above to relieve the weight above it, which was presumably filled with sculptures, similar to those in the Lions’ Gate at Mycenae. The entrance was flanked by semi-detached columns 20 ft. high, with shafts that tapered downwards like those reconstructed at Cnossus; the shafts rested on a base of three steps and supported a capital with echinus and abacus. These shafts carried a lintel that has since vanished; the wall above was recessed and was once covered with stone slabs carved with spirals and other designs, of which fragments can be found in various museums. The most significant remains are the shafts, most of which were brought to England in the early 19th century by the 2nd Marquess of Sligo and later presented to the British Museum in 1905 by the 5th Marquess. These shafts, along with the echinus molding of the capitals, are intricately carved with chevrons and spirals, likely inspired by the bronze sheathing of wooden columns and doorways mentioned by Homer.

The Archaic Period.—The buildings just referred to belong to what is known as the prehistoric age in Greece; the dispersion of the tribes by invaders from the north about 1100 B.C. destroyed the Mycenaean civilization, and some centuries have to pass before we reach the results of the new development. Among the invaders the Dorians would seem to have been the chief leaders, who eventually became supreme. They brought with them from Olympus the worship of Apollo, so that henceforth the sanctuary of the god takes the place of the megaron of the king. From Greece the Dorians spread their colonies through the Greek islands and southern Italy. Later they passed on to Sicily and founded Syracuse, and subsequently Selinus and Agrigentum (Acragas). The prosperity of all these colonies is shown in the splendid temples which they built in stone, the remains of many of which have lasted to our day.

The Archaic Period.—The buildings mentioned belong to what’s known as prehistoric Greece; the invasion of tribes from the north around 1100 BCE led to the downfall of the Mycenaean civilization, and it took several centuries before we saw the results of new developments. The Dorians were likely the main leaders among the invaders, ultimately becoming the dominant group. They brought the worship of Apollo from Olympus, which meant that the sanctuary of the god replaced the megaron of the king. From Greece, the Dorians established colonies across the Greek islands and southern Italy. Eventually, they moved on to Sicily, where they founded Syracuse, and later Selinus and Agrigentum (Acragas). The wealth of these colonies is evident in the magnificent stone temples they constructed, many of which still stand today.

From Curtius and Adler’s Olympia, by permission of Behrend & Co.
Fig. 14.—Plan of the Heraeum. A, Peristyle; B, Pronaos; C, Naos; D, Opisthodomus; E, Base of statue of Hermes.

The earliest Greek temple of which remains have been discovered2 is that of the Heraeum at Olympia, ascribed to about 1000 B.C. Its plan (fig. 14) shows that the enclosure of the sanctuary and its porticoes in a peristyle had already been found necessary, if only to protect the walls of the cella, built in unburnt brick on a stone plinth; further, that the antae of the portico and the dressings of the entrance were in wood; and, following Pausanias’ statement relative to the wood column in the opisthodomos, all the columns of the peristyle were in that material, gradually replaced by stone columns as they decayed, evidenced by the character of their capitals, which in style date from the 6th century B.C. to Roman times. The ephemeral nature of the materials employed in this and other early temples, and the risk of fire, must have naturally led to the desire to render the Greek sanctuaries more permanent by the employment of stone. But the Greeks were always timid as regards the bearing value of that material, and would seem to have imagined that unless the blocks were of megalithic dimensions it was impossible to build in stone. This may be gathered from the remains of the earliest example found, the temple of Apollo in the island of Ortygia, Syracuse, where the monolith columns had widely projecting capitals, the abaci of which were set so close together that the intercolumniation was less than one diameter of the column.

The earliest Greek temple that has been discovered is the Heraeum at Olympia, dating back to around 1000 B.C. Its layout (fig. 14) indicates that the surrounding sanctuary and its porticoes were enclosed in a peristyle, which was already necessary, primarily to protect the walls of the cella, constructed from unburnt brick on a stone base. Additionally, the antae of the portico and the entrance were made of wood. According to Pausanias, the wooden column in the opisthodomos suggests that all the columns in the peristyle were also wooden, but they were gradually replaced by stone columns as they deteriorated, as indicated by the style of their capitals, which date from the 6th century B.C. to Roman times. The temporary nature of the materials used in this and other early temples, along with the risk of fire, likely motivated the Greeks to make their sanctuaries more durable by using stone. However, the Greeks were always cautious about the strength of that material and seemed to believe that unless the blocks were massive, it was impossible to build with stone. This assumption can be inferred from the remains of the earliest known example, the temple of Apollo on the island of Ortygia in Syracuse, where the monolithic columns had widely projecting capitals, and the abaci were positioned so closely that the space between columns was less than the diameter of a column.

Following the temple of Apollo at Syracuse is the temple of Corinth, ascribed to 650 B.C., of which seven columns remain in situ, all monoliths, and the Olympieum at Syracuse. Nearly contemporary with the latter is one of the temples at Selinus in Sicily, 630 B.C., remarkable for the archaic nature of its sculptured metopes. Of later date there are five or six other temples in Selinus, all overthrown by earthquakes; the temple of Athena at Syracuse, which having been converted into a church is in fair preservation; an unfinished temple at Segesta; and six at Agrigentum, built on the brow of a hill facing the sea, one of which was so large that it was necessary to build in walls between the columns.

Following the temple of Apollo in Syracuse is the Corinthian temple, dating back to 650 BCE, of which seven columns still stand in situ, all made from single pieces of stone, and the Olympieum in Syracuse. Almost at the same time as the latter is one of the temples at Selinus in Sicily, from 630 B.C., notable for its archaic sculpted metopes. From a later period, there are five or six other temples in Selinus, all destroyed by earthquakes; the temple of Athena in Syracuse, which has been turned into a church and is well preserved; an unfinished temple in Segesta; and six temples in Agrigentum, built on the hill facing the sea, one of which was so large that walls had to be built between the columns.

In Magna Graecia, in the acropolis at Tarentum, are the remains of a 7th century temple and three at Paestum about a century later in date. In one of these, the temple of Poseidon (figs. 15 and 16) the columns which carried the ceiling and roof over the cella are still standing; these are in two stages superimposed with an architrave between them, and although there are no traces in this instance of a gallery, they serve to render more intelligible Pausanias’ description of that which existed in the temple of Zeus at Olympia.

In Magna Graecia, in the acropolis at Tarentum, there are the remains of a 7th-century temple and three at Paestum that are about a century newer. In one of these, the temple of Poseidon (figs. 15 and 16), the columns that supported the ceiling and roof over the cella are still standing. These columns are in two stacked stages with an architrave between them, and even though there aren't any signs of a gallery in this case, they help make Pausanias' description of what was in the temple of Zeus at Olympia clearer.

The temple of Assus in Asia Minor is an early example remarkable for its sculptured architrave, the only one known, and in the temple of Aphaea in Aegina (q.v.) we find the immediate predecessor of the Parthenon, if we may judge by its sculpture and the proportions of its columns.

The temple of Assus in Asia Minor is an early example notable for its sculpted architrave, the only one known, and in the temple of Aphaea in Aegina (q.v.) we see the immediate predecessor of the Parthenon, based on its sculpture and the proportions of its columns.

So far we have only referred to the early temples of the Doric order; of the origin and development of those of the Ionic order far less is known. The earliest examples are those of the temple of Apollo at Naucratis in Egypt, and of the archaic temple of Diana at Ephesus, both about 560 B.C. The remains of the latter, discovered by Wood, are now in the British Museum; they consist of two capitals, one with a portion of a shaft in good preservation; the sculptured drum and the base of one of the columns, inscribed with the name of Croesus, who is known to have contributed to it; 379 two other bases, and the cornice or cymatium. The treasury of the Cnidians at Delphi was Ionic, judging by the carved ornament enriching the cornice and architraves, and in the Naxian votive column we have another early example of an early voluted capital.

So far, we’ve only talked about the early temples of the Doric order; we know much less about the origin and development of those from the Ionic order. The earliest examples come from the temple of Apollo at Naucratis in Egypt and the archaic temple of Diana at Ephesus, both dating around 560 BCE The remains of the latter, uncovered by Wood, are now housed in the British Museum. They include two capitals, one with a well-preserved part of a shaft; the sculpted drum and base of one of the columns, marked with the name of Croesus, who is known to have contributed to it; 379 two other bases, and the cornice or cymatium. The treasury of the Cnidians at Delphi featured Ionic design, based on the carved ornament that embellishes the cornice and architraves, and the Naxian votive column presents another example of an early voluted capital.

The tombs of Tantalais, near Smyrna, and of Alyattes, near Sardis, belong to the same date as those we shall find in Etruria. The Harpy tomb, now in the British Museum, built after 547 B.C., is the predecessor of many other Lycian tombs of the 5th and 4th centuries, to which we return.

The tombs of Tantalais, close to Smyrna, and of Alyattes, near Sardis, are from the same period as those we will see in Etruria. The Harpy tomb, currently in the British Museum, was built after 547 BCE and is the forerunner of many other Lycian tombs from the 5th and 4th centuries, which we will discuss later.

Fig. 15.—Plan of the Temple of Poseidon at Paestum.

As already pointed out, in the temple of Hera at Olympia (10th century B.C.), we find the complete plan of an hexastyle peripteral Greek temple, where columns originally in wood supported a wood architrave and superstructure protected by terra-cotta plaques and roofed over with tiles. The temple of Apollo at Syracuse, and the temple at Corinth (7th century B.C.) represent the earliest examples in stone, and in the temple of Poseidon at Paestum (6th century) are preserved the columns of the cella which carried the ceiling and roof. The structural development therefore of the temple was completed, and no great constructional improvements reveal themselves after 550 B.C. The next century would seem to have been chiefly directed to the beautifying and refining of the features already prescribed, and it was the traditional respect for, and the conservative adherence to, the older type, which led the architects to the production of such masterpieces as the Parthenon and the Erechtheum, which would have been impossible but for the careful and logical progression of preceding centuries.

As mentioned before, in the temple of Hera at Olympia (10th century B.C.), we see the complete design of a hexastyle peripteral Greek temple, where columns originally made of wood supported a wooden architrave and superstructure, which were protected by terra-cotta plaques and covered with tiles. The temple of Apollo at Syracuse and the temple at Corinth (7th century B.C.) are among the earliest examples made of stone, and in the temple of Poseidon at Paestum (6th century) we can still see the columns of the cella that supported the ceiling and roof. The structural development of the temple was thus completed, with no major construction improvements appearing after 550 B.C. The following century mainly focused on enhancing and refining the features that had already been established, and it was the traditional respect for, and conservative adherence to, the older style that allowed architects to create masterpieces like the Parthenon and the Erechtheum, which would not have been possible without the careful and logical developments of the preceding centuries.

The Parthenon (q.v.) at Athens represents the highest type of perfection, not only in its conception but in its realization. It is only necessary here to give a general description. It was designed by Ictinus in collaboration with Callicrates, and built on the south side of the Acropolis on a foundation carried down to the solid rock. The temple, commenced in 454 B.C. and completed in 438 B.C., was of the Doric order and raised on a stylobate of three steps; it had eight columns in front and rear and was surrounded by a peristyle, there being twenty columns on the flanks. It contained two divisions; the eastern chamber was originally known as the Hekatompedos (temple of 100 ft.), that being the dimension of the cella of the ancient temple which it was built to replace. The chamber on the western side was called the Parthenon (i.e. chamber of the virgin). All the principal lines of the building had delicate curves. The entablature rose about 3 in. in the middle to correct an optical illusion caused by the sloping lines of the pediment, which gave to the horizontal cornice the appearance of having sunk in the centre. The stylobate had therefore to be similarly curved so that the columns should be all of the same height. The columns are not all equidistant, those nearer the angle being closer together than the others, which gave a greater appearance of strength to the temple; this was increased by a slight inclination inwards of all the columns. In order to correct another optical illusion, which causes the shaft of a column, when it diminishes as it rises, and is formed with absolute straight lines, to appear hollow or concave, an increment known as the entasis was given to the column, about one-third up the shaft. The columns were not monoliths, like those of the earliest stone temples mentioned above; they were built in several drums, so closely fitted together that the joint would be imperceptible but for the slight discoloration of the marble. The setting of the lowest drum of these columns on the curved stylobate, with the slight inclination of the column, must have been a work of an extraordinary nature, only possible with such a material as Pentelic marble. The cella or naos was built to enshrine the chryselephantine statue of Athena by Pheidias. In order to carry the ceiling and roof there was a range of columns on each side of the cella returning round the end. These columns probably carried an upper range as in the temple of Poseidon at Paestum. The tympana of the two pediments and all the metopes were enriched with the finest sculpture, and were realized, designed, and executed by Pheidias and his pupils. On the upper part of the cella wall and under the peristyle was the Panathenaic frieze, of which, as also of the other sculptures, the British Museum possesses the finest examples.

The Parthenon (q.v.) in Athens represents the ultimate level of perfection, both in its design and execution. Here, we will provide a general description. It was created by Ictinus and Callicrates together and built on the south side of the Acropolis on a foundation that was leveled down to solid rock. The temple began construction in 454 BCE and was finished in 438 B.C.. It was designed in the Doric style and raised on a stylobate consisting of three steps; it had eight columns at the front and back, surrounded by a peristyle with twenty columns along the sides. The structure had two sections; the eastern chamber was originally called the Hekatompedos (temple of 100 ft.), a reference to the size of the cella of the earlier temple that it replaced. The chamber on the western side was named the Parthenon (i.e. chamber of the virgin). The main lines of the building featured subtle curves. The entablature was slightly elevated in the center by about 3 in. to counteract an optical illusion caused by the sloping lines of the pediment, which made the horizontal cornice look like it had sunk in the middle. As a result, the stylobate was also curved to ensure that all columns appeared to be the same height. The columns were not spaced equally; those near the corners were placed closer together than the others, enhancing the temple’s perceived strength; this effect was further emphasized by a slight inward lean of all the columns. To correct another optical illusion, which makes a column appear hollow or concave if the shaft tapers perfectly straight as it rises, a feature called entasis was added to the column, about a third of the way up the shaft. The columns were not made from single pieces, like those of the earliest stone temples; instead, they were composed of several drums, fitted so closely together that the joints were virtually invisible except for slight discoloration of the marble. Installing the lowest drum of these columns on the curved stylobate, along with the slight inward lean of the column, would have been a remarkable feat, achievable only with a material like Pentelic marble. The cella or naos was constructed to house the chryselephantine statue of Athena by Pheidias. To support the ceiling and roof, there was a row of columns on each side of the cella that wrapped around at the ends. These columns likely supported a higher tier, similar to the temple of Poseidon at Paestum. The tympana of both pediments and all the metopes were decorated with exquisite sculptures, created, designed, and executed by Pheidias and his students. On the upper section of the cella wall and underneath the peristyle was the Panathenaic frieze, of which, along with the other sculptures, the British Museum holds the finest examples.

The Propylaea (q.v.), designed by Mnesicles and built 437-432 B.C., was the only entrance to the Acropolis. It was of the Doric order, and consisted of a portico of six columns, the two centre ones being wider apart, to allow of the road through, up which the chariots and beasts for sacrifices ascended. The columns carrying the marble ceiling of the vestibule were of the Ionic order; beyond them the wall was pierced by three doorways, and on the other side and facing east was another portico of six columns. The front entrance was flanked on the left hand by a chamber known as the Pinacotheca, and on the right by a chamber intended probably to be a replica but subsequently curtailed in size in consequence of the proximity of another temple.

The Propylaea (q.v.), designed by Mnesicles and built between 437-432 BCE, was the only entrance to the Acropolis. It followed the Doric style and featured a portico with six columns, the two center ones spaced wider apart to allow for the road that chariots and animals for sacrifices used to ascend. The columns supporting the marble ceiling of the vestibule were in the Ionic style; beyond them, the wall had three doorways. On the other side, facing east, there was another portico with six columns. The main entrance was flanked on the left by a room called the Pinacotheca, and on the right by a chamber that was likely intended to be a similar space but was later made smaller due to the closeness of another temple.

The Erechtheum on the north side of the Acropolis occupied the site of three older shrines, which may account for its irregular plan. The eastern portion was the temple of Athena Polias, with a portico of six columns of the Ionic order. At a lower level on the north side was a portico of six columns (four in front and two at the sides) leading to the shrine of Erechtheus; the west front of this shrine had originally a frontispiece of four columns in antisraised on a podium; subsequently during the Roman occupation these columns were taken down and reproduced as semi-detached columns with windows between. On the west side was a court in which was the olive tree and the shrine of Pandrosus (Pandroseion). At the south-west angle was the well-known portico or tribune of the Caryatides. There was a small entrance through the podium at the side, and stairs leading down to the shrine of Erechtheus.

The Erechtheum on the north side of the Acropolis was built on the site of three older shrines, which might explain its unusual layout. The eastern section was the temple of Athena Polias, featuring a portico with six Ionic columns. On a lower level to the north was a portico of six columns (four in front and two on the sides) that led to the shrine of Erechtheus; the front of this shrine originally had four columns in antis raised on a podium. Later, during the Roman occupation, these columns were removed and replaced with semi-detached columns with windows in between. On the west side was a courtyard that contained the olive tree and the shrine of Pandrosus (Pandroseion). At the southwest corner stood the famous portico or tribune of the Caryatides. There was a small entrance through the podium on the side, along with stairs leading down to the shrine of Erechtheus.

From a photo by Brogi.
Fig. 16.—Temple of Poseidon at Paestum.

The only other building remaining on the Acropolis is the temple of Niké Apteros, raised on a lofty substructure south-west of the propylaea. It also was of the Ionic order, and belonged to the type known as “amphiprostyle,” with a portico of four columns in the front and rear but no peristyle. The term “apteros” applied to the temple and not to the goddess of victory.

The only other building left on the Acropolis is the temple of Nike Apteros, built on a high platform southwest of the propylaea. It was also in the Ionic style and was classified as “amphiprostyle,” featuring a portico with four columns at both the front and back but no surrounding columns. The term “apteros” refers to the temple, not to the goddess of victory.

In 430 B.C., shortly after the completion of the Parthenon, Ictinus was employed to design the temple of Apollo Epicurius, at Bassae, in Arcadia. This temple externally was of the Doric order, but, being built in local stone, no attempt was made to introduce those refinements which are found in the Parthenon. In the rear of the cella is a second sanctuary with a doorway facing east; it was probably the site of an ancient temple which had to be preserved, and this may account for the fact that the temple runs north and south. The cella is flanked by five columns of the Ionic order which are conntected by spur walls to the cella wall. These columns carry an architrave, frieze richly sculptured with figure subjects, cornice and wall above rising to the roof. There was no ceiling therefore, and the interior was probably lighted through pierced Parian marble tiles, of which three examples were found. The Corinthian capital found on the site is supposed by Cockerell to have belonged to the shaft between the two cellas.

In 430 BCE, shortly after the Parthenon was completed, Ictinus was hired to design the temple of Apollo Epicurius in Bassae, Arcadia. This temple had a Doric style on the outside, but because it was made from local stone, it didn’t include the detailed features seen in the Parthenon. At the back of the cella, there’s a second sanctuary with a doorway facing east; this was likely the location of an ancient temple that needed to be preserved, which might explain why the temple is oriented north and south. The cella is surrounded by five Ionic columns that connect to the cella wall with spur walls. These columns support an architrave and a frieze decorated with rich sculptures of figures, along with a cornice and a wall above that rises to the roof. There wasn’t a ceiling, so the interior was probably illuminated by pierced Parian marble tiles, three of which were found. The Corinthian capital discovered on the site is thought by Cockerell to have belonged to the shaft between the two cellas.

The same architect, Ictinus, was employed in 420 B.C. to rebuild the hall of the mysteries at Eleusis on a larger scale. The hall was 185 ft. square, and its ceiling and roof were carried by seven rows of columns with six in each row. The propylaea, which gave access to the sacred enclosure at Eleusis, was copied from the propylaea at Athens. The so-called lesser propylaea had some connexion with the mysteries.

The same architect, Ictinus, was hired in 420 BCE to reconstruct the hall of the mysteries at Eleusis on a bigger scale. The hall measured 185 ft. square, and its ceiling and roof were supported by seven rows of columns, with six in each row. The propylaea, which provided access to the sacred area at Eleusis, was modeled after the propylaea in Athens. The so-called lesser propylaea was somewhat related to the mysteries.

The temple of Zeus at Olympia had much in common with the Parthenon, being nearly contemporaneous, built to enshrine a second chryselephantine statue by Pheidias, and in plan having a similar arrangement of columns inside the cella; the lower range of columns (according to Pausanias) supported a gallery round, so that privileged visitors could approach nearer to the statue. The temple, however, was built in the local conglomerate stone covered with a thin coat of stucco and painted.

The temple of Zeus at Olympia shared a lot with the Parthenon, as it was built around the same time to house another chryselephantine statue by Pheidias. It also had a similar layout of columns inside the cella. According to Pausanias, the lower row of columns supported a surrounding gallery, allowing special visitors to get closer to the statue. However, the temple was constructed using local conglomerate stone, which was then covered with a thin layer of stucco and painted.

Of circular temples there are two examples known, the Philippeion at Olympia and the Tholos at Epidaurus. The latter had, inside the cella, a peristyle of Corinthian columns, the capitals of which are of great beauty and represent in their design the transition 380 between those of the monument of Lysicrates and the temple of Zeus Olympius at Athens.

Of circular temples, there are two known examples: the Philippeion at Olympia and the Tholos at Epidaurus. The latter featured a peristyle of Corinthian columns inside the cella, whose capitals are beautifully designed and showcase the transition between the capitals of the Lysicrates monument and the Temple of Zeus Olympius in Athens. 380

In the sacred enclosures of the Greek sanctuaries were other smaller temples or shrines, altars, statues and treasuries, the latter being built by the various cities, from which pilgrimages were made, to contain their treasures. At Olympia there were ten or eleven, the remains of some of which are of great interest. Of the treasury of the Cnidians at Delphi, discovered by the French, so much has been found that it has been possible to evolve a complete conjectural restoration in plaster, now in the Louvre. Its sculpture and the rich carving of its architectural features show that it was Ionian in character. In front was a portico-in-antis, in which the caryatide figures standing on pedestals took the place of columns. These are the earliest examples known of caryatide figures, and they precede those of the Erechtheum by about a century.

In the sacred areas of Greek sanctuaries, there were smaller temples or shrines, altars, statues, and treasuries, which were built by various cities for pilgrimages to hold their treasures. At Olympia, there were ten or eleven of these, and the remains of some are quite fascinating. The treasury of the Cnidians at Delphi, discovered by the French, has yielded enough finds to allow for a complete conjectural restoration in plaster, now displayed in the Louvre. Its sculptures and the elaborate carvings of its architectural features indicate that it was of Ionian style. In front was a portico-in-antis, where caryatide figures on pedestals served as columns. These are the earliest known examples of caryatide figures, predating those of the Erechtheum by about a century.

Fig. 17.—Lycian Tomb of Telmessus.

The most important temple in Asia Minor was the temple of Diana (Artemis) at Ephesus (356-334 B.C.). The archaic temple was burnt in 356, and was immediately rebuilt with greater splendour from the designs of Paeonius. The site of the temple was discovered by Wood in 1869, and the remains brought over to the British Museum in 1875. There were 100 columns, 36 of which (according to Pliny) were sculptured, and it was probably on account of the magnificence of the sculpture that this temple was included among the seven wonders of the world. The sculptured bases are of two kinds, square and circular, in the latter case being the lower drums of the columns. Examples of both are in the British Museum, and several conjectural restorations have been made, among which that of Dr A.S. Murray has been generally accepted, but recent researches (1905) suggest that it remains still an unsolved problem.

The most important temple in Asia Minor was the Temple of Diana (Artemis) at Ephesus (356-334 B.C.). The original temple was burned down in 356 and was quickly rebuilt with even more grandeur, based on designs by Paeonius. The site of the temple was discovered by Wood in 1869, and the remains were brought to the British Museum in 1875. There were 100 columns, 36 of which (according to Pliny) were sculpted, and it was likely due to the stunning sculptures that this temple was listed among the seven wonders of the world. The sculpted bases came in two types: square and circular, with the circular ones being the lower drums of the columns. Examples of both types can be found in the British Museum, and several theoretical restorations have been made, with Dr. A.S. Murray's version being widely accepted. However, recent research (1905) indicates that it remains an unresolved issue.

The temple of Apollo Didymaeus, near Miletus, was the largest temple in Asia Minor, and its erection followed that of the temple at Ephesus, Paeonius and Daphnis of Miletus being the architects. The temple was decastyle, dipteral, with pronaos and vestibule, but no opisthodomos. The cella was so wide (75 ft.) that it remained open to the sky. The bases of the columns were elaborately carved with ornament, as if in rivalry with the temple of Diana. Both these temples were of the Ionic order, as also were those of Athena Polias at Priene (340 B.C.), many of the capitals of which are in the British Museum, and the temples of Aphrodite at Aphrodisias and Cybele at Sardis.

The temple of Apollo Didymaeus, near Miletus, was the largest temple in Asia Minor, built after the temple at Ephesus, with Paeonius and Daphnis of Miletus as the architects. The temple had ten columns across the front, was surrounded by another row of columns, and included a pronaos and vestibule, but no back room. The cella was so wide (75 ft.) that it was left open to the sky. The bases of the columns were intricately carved, as if competing with the temple of Diana. Both of these temples were of the Ionic order, along with the temple of Athena Polias at Priene (340 B.C.), many of the capitals of which are in the British Museum, and the temples of Aphrodite at Aphrodisias and Cybele at Sardis.

The mausoleum at Halicarnassus, also of the Ionic order, built by Queen Artemisia in memory of her husband Mausolus, who died in 353 B.C., was, according to Pliny, recorded as one of the seven wonders of the world, probably on account of the eminence of the sculptors employed, Bryaxis, Leochares, Timotheus, Scopas and Pythius. Pliny’s description is somewhat vague, so that its actual design is a problem not yet solved. Professor Cockerell’s restoration is in accord with the description, but does not quite agree with the actual remains brought over by Newton and deposited in the British Museum. If the Nereid monument and the tombs at Cnidus and Mylasa be taken as suggesting the design, the peristyle (pteron) of thirty-six columns of the Ionic order with entablature stood on a lofty podium, richly decorated with bands of sculpture, and was crowned by a pyramid which, according to Pliny, “contracted itself by twenty-four steps into the summit of a meta.” The steps found are not high enough to constitute a meta, and it is possible therefore that, according to Mr J.J. Stevenson, these steps were over the peristyle only, and that the lofty steps which constituted the meta were in the centre, carried by the inner row of columns. The magnificent sculpture of the Macedonian period has in recent times been demonstrated by the discovery of the marble sarcophagi found at Sidon by Hamdi Bey and now in the museum at Constantinople.

The mausoleum at Halicarnassus, also in the Ionic style, was built by Queen Artemisia to honor her husband Mausolus, who passed away in 353 BCE. According to Pliny, it was listed as one of the seven wonders of the world, likely due to the famous sculptors involved—Bryaxis, Leochares, Timotheus, Scopas, and Pythius. Pliny's description is somewhat unclear, making its actual design a mystery that remains unsolved. Professor Cockerell’s restoration aligns with the description but doesn't entirely match the actual remains brought over by Newton and now housed in the British Museum. If we consider the Nereid monument and the tombs at Cnidus and Mylasa as design references, the peristyle (pteron) featured thirty-six Ionic columns with an entablature, standing on a high podium adorned with decorative sculpture. It was topped by a pyramid that, according to Pliny, “contracted itself by twenty-four steps into the summit of a meta.” The steps found aren’t tall enough to be considered a meta, leading Mr. J.J. Stevenson to suggest that these steps were only above the peristyle, while the higher steps that formed the meta were centrally placed, supported by the inner column row. Recent discoveries, such as the marble sarcophagi at Sidon found by Hamdi Bey, which are now in the museum in Constantinople, have shown the impressive sculpture of the Macedonian period.

The Lycian tombs, of which there are many hundreds carved in the rock in the south of Asia Minor, are copies of timber structures, based on the stone architecture of the neighbouring Greek cities (fig. 17). The Paiafaor Payava tomb (375-362 B.C.), found at Xanthus and now in the British Museum, is apparently a copy, cut in the solid rock, of a portable shrine, in which the wood construction is clearly defined.

The Lycian tombs, of which there are hundreds carved into the rock in southern Asia Minor, mimic timber structures and are inspired by the stone architecture of the nearby Greek cities (fig. 17). The Paiafaor Payava tomb (375-362 B.C.), discovered at Xanthus and now housed in the British Museum, seems to be a solid rock version of a portable shrine, where the wood construction is clearly depicted.

Capitals of the Greek Corinthian order have been found at Bassae, Epidaurus, Olympia and Miletus, but the earliest example of the complete order is represented in the Choragic monument of Lysicrates at Athens.

Capitals of the Greek Corinthian style have been discovered at Bassae, Epidaurus, Olympia, and Miletus, but the first full example of the entire order is seen in the Choragic monument of Lysicrates in Athens.

The most important example of the Greek Corinthian order is that of the temple of Jupiter Olympius at Athens, begun in 174 B.C., but not completed till the time of Hadrian, A.D. 117. The temple was 135 ft. wide and 354 ft. long, built entirely in Pentelic marble, the columns being 56 ft. high. There were eight columns in front and a double peristyle round.

The most significant example of the Greek Corinthian order is the temple of Jupiter Olympius in Athens, which started in 174 BCE but wasn’t completed until the time of Hadrian, AD 117. The temple was 135 feet wide and 354 feet long, built entirely from Pentelic marble, with columns that were 56 feet high. There were eight columns in the front and a double row of columns all around.

The two porches of the Tower of the Winds at Athens (c. 75 B.C.) had Corinthian capitals. The upper part of the tower, which was octagonal in plan, was sculptured with figures representing the winds.

The two porches of the Tower of the Winds in Athens (c. 75 BCE) featured Corinthian capitals. The upper section of the tower, which had an octagonal shape, was decorated with sculptures of figures representing the winds.

The Greek houses discovered at Delosand Priene were very simple and unpretentious, but the palace near Palatitza in Macedonia, discovered by Messrs Heuzey and Daumet, would seem to have been of a very sumptuous character. The front of the palace measured 250 ft. In the centre was a vestibule flanked with Ionic columns on either side, leading to a throne room at one time richly decorated with marble, and with numerous other halls on either side. The date is ascribed to the middle of the 4th century B.C.

The Greek houses found in Delos and Priene were very simple and modest, but the palace near Palatitza in Macedonia, discovered by Messrs Heuzey and Daumet, appears to have been quite luxurious. The front of the palace measured 250 ft. In the center was a vestibule flanked by Ionic columns on both sides, leading to a throne room that was once richly decorated with marble, along with several other halls on either side. The date is attributed to the middle of the 4th century BCE

In selecting the sites for their theatres, the Greeks always utilized the slope of a hill, in which they could cut out the cavea, and thus save the expense of raising a structure to carry the seats, at the same time obtaining a beautiful prospect for the background. The theatre of Dionysus at Athens was discovered and excavated in 1864, and has fortunately preserved all the seats round the orchestra, sixty-seven in number, all in Pentelic marble, with the names inscribed thereon of the priests and dignitaries who occupied them. The largest theatre was at Megalopolis, with an auditorium 474 ft. in diameter. The most perfect, so far as the seats are concerned, is the theatre at Epidaurus, with a diameter of 415 ft. Other theatres are known at Dodona in Greece, Pergamum and Tralles in Asia Minor, and Syracuse and Segesta in Sicily.

In choosing locations for their theaters, the Greeks always used the slope of a hill, where they could carve out the seating area and save on the cost of building a structure to hold the seats, all while enjoying a beautiful view in the background. The theater of Dionysus in Athens was discovered and excavated in 1864, and it has luckily preserved all the seats around the orchestra, totaling sixty-seven, all made of Pentelic marble, with the names of the priests and dignitaries who used them inscribed on them. The largest theater was in Megalopolis, featuring an auditorium that was 474 feet in diameter. The most complete one, in terms of seating, is the theater at Epidaurus, with a diameter of 415 feet. Other theaters are known to exist at Dodona in Greece, Pergamum and Tralles in Asia Minor, and Syracuse and Segesta in Sicily.

(R. P. S.)

Parthian Architecture

Parthian Architecture

The architecture of the Parthian dynasty, who from 250 B.C. to A.D. 226 occupied the greater part of Mesopotamia, their empire in 160 B.C. extending over 480,000 sq. m., was quite unknown until Sir A.H. Layard, following in the steps of Ross and Ainsworth, visited and measured the plan of the palace at Hatra (el Hadr) about 30 m. south of Mosul; the architecture of this palace shows that, on the one hand, the Parthians carried on the traditions of the barrel vault of the Assyrian palace, and on the other, from their contact with Hellenistic methods of building, had acquired considerable knowledge in the working of ashlar masonry.

The architecture of the Parthian dynasty, which from 250 B.C. to A.D. 226 dominated most of Mesopotamia, and had an empire that in 160 B.C. covered 480,000 sq. m., was largely unknown until Sir A.H. Layard, following the work of Ross and Ainsworth, visited and recorded the layout of the palace at Hatra (el Hadr) about 30 miles south of Mosul. The design of this palace demonstrates that, on one hand, the Parthians continued the architectural traditions of the Assyrian barrel vault, and on the other hand, through their interactions with Hellenistic building techniques, they gained significant expertise in the use of ashlar masonry.

Fig. 18.—Plan of Palace of el Hadr.

A, Throne or reception room.

A throne or reception room.

B, Large hall, or

B, big hall, or

C, Entrance hall of temple.

C, Temple entrance hall.

D, Temple.

D, Temple.

El Hadr is first mentioned in history as having been unsuccessfully besieged by Trajan in A.D. 116, and it is recorded to have been a walled town containing a temple of the sun, celebrated for the value of its offerings. The temple referred to is probably the large square building at the back of the palace, as above the doorway is a rich frieze carved with griffins, similar to those found at Warka by Loftus, together with large quantities of Parthian coins. The remains (fig. 18) consist of a block of 380 ft. frontage, facing east, and 128 ft. deep, subdivided by walls of great thickness, running at right angles to the main front, and built in an immense court, divided down the centre by a wall, separating that portion on the south side, where the temple was situated, from that on the north side, which constituted the king’s palace. The seven subdivisions of the different widths were all covered with semi-circular barrel vaults which, being built side by side, mutually resisted the thrust, the outer walls being of greater thickness, with the same object. In the centre of the south block was an immense hall 49 ft. wide and 98 ft. deep, which formed the vestibule to the temple in the rear; this vestibule was flanked by a series of three smaller halls on either side, over which there was probably a second floor. On the palace or north side were 381 two great aiwans or reception halls. The main front (fig. 19) was built in finely jointed ashlar masonry with semicircular attached shafts between the entrance doorways, which had semicircular heads, every third voussoir of the three larger doors being decorated by busts in strong relief with a headgear similar to that shown on Parthian coins; other carvings, with the acanthus leaf, belonged to that type of Syrio-Greek work, of which Loftus found so many examples at Warka (Loftus, Chaldaea, Susiana, p. 225). In the great mosque of Diarbekr are two wings at the north and south ends respectively, which are said to have been Parthian palaces built by Tigranes, 74 B.C.; they have evidently been rearranged or rebuilt at various times, the columns with their capitals and the entablature having been utilized again. The shafts of the columns of the upper storey are richly carved with geometrical patterns similar to those found by Loftus at Warka.

El Hadr is first noted in history as having been unsuccessfully besieged by Trajan in CE 116, and it’s documented as a walled town that housed a temple dedicated to the sun, famous for the value of its offerings. This temple is likely the large square building located at the back of the palace, as above the entrance is an elaborate frieze carved with griffins, resembling those uncovered at Warka by Loftus, along with a large number of Parthian coins. The remains (fig. 18) consist of a block 380 ft. wide, facing east, and 128 ft. deep, partitioned by thick walls running perpendicular to the main front, constructed around a vast courtyard, split down the middle by a wall that separates the southern section, where the temple was located, from the northern section, which was the king’s palace. The seven divisions of varying widths were all topped with semi-circular barrel vaults that mutually supported one another, with the outer walls being thicker for the same purpose. In the center of the southern block was a massive hall measuring 49 ft. wide and 98 ft. deep, serving as the entrance to the temple in the rear; this entrance was flanked by three smaller halls on either side, possibly with a second floor above. On the palace or northern side were two large aiwans or reception halls. The main front (fig. 19) was constructed of finely joined ashlar masonry featuring semi-circular attached shafts between the entrance doorways, which had semi-circular arches, with every third voussoir of the three larger doors adorned with busts in high relief sporting headgear similar to those depicted on Parthian coins; other carvings, featuring the acanthus leaf, belonged to that type of Syrio-Greek art that Loftus discovered in abundance at Warka (Loftus, Chaldaea, Susiana, p. 225). In the grand mosque of Diarbekr, there are two wings at the north and south ends respectively, said to have been Parthian palaces built by Tigranes in 74 BCE; these structures have clearly been modified or rebuilt at various times, with the columns, capitals, and entablature being reused. The shafts of the columns in the upper level are richly decorated with geometric patterns similar to those found by Loftus at Warka.

Fig. 19.—Portion of front of Palace of el Hadr.
From Prof H V. Hilprecht’s Exploration in Bible Lands, by permission of A.J. Holman & Co. and T. & T. Clark.
Fig. 20.—Plan of the Parthian Palace at Nippur.

The American researches at Nippur have resulted in the discovery on the top of the mounds of the remains of a Parthian palace; and the disposition of its plan (fig. 20), and the style of the columns of the peristylar court, show so strong a resemblance to Greek work as to suggest the same Hellenistic influence as in the palace of el Hadr. Having no stone, however, they were obliged to build up these columns at Nippur with sections in brick, covered afterwards with stucco. The columns diminished at the top to about one-fifth of the lower diameter, and would seem to have had an entasis, as the lower portion up to one-third of the height is nearly vertical. A similar palace was discovered at Tello by the French archaeologists, and the bases of some of the brick columns are in the Louvre.

The American research team at Nippur has uncovered the remains of a Parthian palace on top of the mounds. The layout of its design (fig. 20) and the style of the columns in the surrounding courtyard closely resemble Greek architecture, suggesting a similar Hellenistic influence as seen in the palace of el Hadr. However, since they had no stone available, they had to construct these columns at Nippur using sections of brick, which were later covered with stucco. The columns tapered at the top to about one-fifth of their lower diameter and appeared to have a slight bulge, as the lower third of their height is nearly vertical. A comparable palace was found at Tello by French archaeologists, and the bases of some of the brick columns are housed in the Louvre.

(R. P. S.)

Sassanian Architecture

Sasanian Architecture

Plan. Section in lines BC, DE, FG of plan.
Fig. 21 and Fig. 22.—The Palace of Serbistan.
Fig. 23.—Plan of the Palace at Firuzabad.

Although, on the overthrow of the Parthian dynasty in A.D. 226, the monarchs of the Sassanian dynasty succeeded to the immense Parthian empire, the earliest building found, according to Fergusson, is that at Serbistan, to which he ascribes the date A.D. 380. The palace (fig. 21), which measures 130 ft. frontage and 143 ft. deep, with an internal court, shows so great an advance in the arrangements of its plan as to suggest considerable acquaintance with Roman work. The fine ashlar work of el-Hadr is no longer adhered to, and in its place we find rubble masonry with thick mortar joints, the walls being covered afterwards, both externally and internally, with stucco. While the barrel vault is still retained for the chief entrance porches, it is of elliptical section, and the central hall is covered with a dome, a feature probably handed down from the Assyrians, such as is shown in the bas-relief (fig. 10) from Kuyunjik, now in the British Museum. In order to carry a dome, circular on plan, over a square hall, it was necessary to arch across the angles, and here to a certain extent the Sassanians were at fault, as they did not know how to build pendentives, and the construction of these are of the most irregular kind. As, however, their mortar had excellent tenacious properties, these pendentives still remain in situ (fig. 22), and their defects were probably hidden under the stucco. In the halls which flank the building on either side, however, they displayed considerable knowledge of construction. Instead of having enormously thick walls to resist the thrust of their vaults, to which we have already drawn attention in the Assyrian work and at el Hadr, they built piers at intervals, covering over the spaces between them, with semi-domes on which the walls carrying the vaults are supported, so that they lessened the span of the vault and brought the thrust well within the wall. This, however, lessened the width of the hall, so they replaced the lower portions of the piers by the columns, leaving a passage round. It is possible that this idea was partly derived from the great Roman halls of the thermae (baths), where the vault is brought forward on columns; but it was an improvement to leave a passage behind. The elliptical sections given to all the barrel vaults may have been the traditional method derived from Assyria, of which, however, no remains exist. In the article Vault there will be found a reason why these elliptical sections were adopted (see also below in the description of the great hall at Ctesiphon). In the palace of Firuzabad, attributed by Fergusson to Peroz (Firuz) (A.D. 459-485), the plan (fig. 23) follows more closely the disposition of the Assyrian palaces, and we return again to the thick walls, which might incline us to give a later date to Serbistan, except that in the pendentives carrying the three great domes in the centre of the palace at Firuzabad they show greater knowledge in their construction. The angles of the square hall are vaulted, with a series of concentric arches, each ring as it rises being brought forward, the object being to save centreing, because each ring rested on the ring beneath it. The plan is a rectangular parallelogram with a frontage of 180 ft. and a depth of 333 ft., more than double, therefore, of the size of Serbistan. An immense entrance hall in the centre of the main front is flanked on each side by two halls placed at right angles to it, so as to resist the thrust of the elliptical barrel vaults of the entrance hall. This hall leads to a series of three square halls, side by side, each surmounted by a dome carried on pendentives. Beyond is an open court, the smaller rooms round all covered with barrel vaults. Here, as in Serbistan, the material employed is rubble masonry with thick joints of mortar, and fortunately portions of the stucco with which this Sassanian masonry was covered remain both externally and internally. As there are no windows of any sort, the wall surface of the exterior has been decorated with semi-circular attached shafts and panelling between, which recall the primitive decorations found in the early Chaldaean temples, except that arches are carried at the top across the sunk panels. Internally an attempt has been made to copy the decoration of the Persian doorway, which represents a kind of renaissance of the ancient style. But instead of the lintel the arch has been introduced, and the ornament in stucco representing the Persian cavetto cornice shows imperfect knowledge of the original and is clumsily worked. The niches also, in the main front, have been copied from 382 the windows which flank the doorway in the Persian palace. But they are decorative only, and are too shallow to serve any purpose.

Although, after the overthrow of the Parthian dynasty in CE 226, the Sassanian dynasty took over the vast Parthian empire, the earliest building identified, according to Fergusson, is the one at Serbistan, which he dates to A.D. 380. The palace (fig. 21), measuring 130 ft. across the front and 143 ft. deep, with an internal courtyard, shows significant advancements in its layout, indicating a strong influence from Roman architecture. The fine ashlar work typical of el-Hadr isn't present anymore; instead, we find rubble masonry with thick mortar joints, and the walls were later covered both outside and inside with stucco. While the barrel vault is still used for the main entrance porches, it is now in an elliptical shape, and the central hall is topped with a dome, a feature likely inherited from the Assyrians, as shown in the bas-relief (fig. 10) from Kuyunjik, currently in the British Museum. To support a circular dome over a square hall, it was necessary to arch across the corners, and in this regard, the Sassanians were somewhat lacking, as they didn't know how to construct pendentives, leading to quite irregular designs. However, since their mortar was of excellent quality, these pendentives still remain in situ (fig. 22), and their flaws were likely concealed under the stucco. In the side halls flanking the building, they demonstrated considerable construction knowledge. Instead of relying on extremely thick walls to withstand the pressure of their vaults, as seen in the Assyrian work and el Hadr, they built piers at intervals and covered the spaces with semi-domes that support the walls carrying the vaults, thereby reducing the span of the vault and keeping the thrust well within the walls. This design, however, narrowed the hall, so they replaced the lower sections of the piers with columns to allow for a passage around them. It's possible this idea was partly inspired by the grand Roman halls in thermae (baths), where vaults are supported by columns; leaving a passage at the back was an improvement. The elliptical shape of all the barrel vaults may originate from traditional Assyrian methods, although no remains exist. In the article Vault, you'll find an explanation for the adoption of these elliptical shapes (see also below in the description of the great hall at Ctesiphon). In the palace of Firuzabad, attributed by Fergusson to Peroz (Firuz) (CE 459-485), the plan (fig. 23) resembles more closely the layout of Assyrian palaces, and we again see thick walls, which might lead us to assign a later date to Serbistan, except that the pendentives supporting the three large domes in the center of the Firuzabad palace indicate a much better construction technique. The corners of the square hall are vaulted with a series of concentric arches, each rising ring being pushed forward, aiming to avoid the need for centering since each ring rested on the one below it. The plan is a rectangular parallelogram measuring 180 ft. across the front and 333 ft. deep, more than double the size of Serbistan. A large entrance hall in the center of the main façade is flanked on either side by two halls positioned at right angles to resist the thrust of the elliptical barrel vaults of the entrance hall. This hall leads to a series of three square halls side by side, each topped with a dome supported by pendentives. Beyond this is an open courtyard, with smaller rooms surrounding it, all covered with barrel vaults. Like in Serbistan, the materials used include rubble masonry with thick mortar joints, and fortunately, some sections of the stucco covering the Sassanian masonry remain visible both outside and inside. Since there are no windows at all, the exterior wall surface is decorated with semi-circular attached shafts and paneling in between, reminiscent of the early decorative styles found in Chaldaean temples, though arches span across the sunken panels. Internally, there’s an attempt to mimic the decoration of Persian doorways, representing a kind of revival of the ancient style. However, instead of a lintel, an arch has been introduced, and the stucco ornament resembling the Persian cavetto cornice shows a limited understanding of the original design and appears clumsily executed. The niches in the main front were also modeled after the windows flanking the doorway in the Persian palace. But they serve only a decorative purpose and are too shallow to be functional.

From Dieulafoy’s L’Art Antique by permission of Morel et Cie.
Fig. 24.—The Great Hall at Ctesiphon.

If there has been some difficulty in determining the exact date of Firuzabad, that of the third great palace, at Ctesiphon, on the borders of the Tigris, is known to have been built by Chosroes I. in A.D. 550. Owing probably to its proximity to Bagdad, from which it lies about 25 m. distant, it is much better known than the other examples we have quoted; but while they are constructed in rubble masonry, Ctesiphon is built of brick, because we have now returned to the alluvial plain where no stone could be procured. The only portion of the palace which still exists is that which was built in burnt brick, and this far exceeds in dimensions Serbistan and Firuzabad. Its main front measured 312 ft.; its height was about 115 ft.; and its depth 175 ft. The plan is very simple, and consisted of an aiwan or immense hall, 86 ft. in width and 163 ft. long, covered with an elliptical barrel vault, the thrust of which is counteracted by five long halls on each side, also covered with barrel vaults and probably used as guard chambers or stores. The great hall was open in the front, and constituted an immense portal, 83 ft. wide and 95 ft. to the crown of the arch. The springing of the vault is 40 ft. from the ground, but up to about 26 ft. above the springing the walls are built in horizontal courses projecting inwards as they rise, so that the actual width of the vaulted portion (fig. 24) has been diminished one-sixth and measures only about 71 ft. The crown of the vault is 9 ft. thick, the walls at the base being 23 ft. The bricks or tiles of which the vault is built are, like those at Thebes, laid flat-wise, and there is also a similar inclination of the rings of brick-work, which are about 10° out of the vertical. This leads to the conclusion that this immense vault was built without centreing, as the tenacious quality of the mortar would probably be sufficient to hold each tile in its position until the ring was complete. In the building of the arch of the great portal other precautions were taken; bond timbers 23 ft. long and in five rows, one above the other, were carried through the wall from front to back. The lower portion of the arch (5 ft. in height) was built with bricks placed flat-wise; the upper portion (4 ft. in height) in the usual way, viz. right angles to the face. The reason for this change was probably that the upper portions might be carved, as they have been, with a series of semi-circular cusps.

If there has been some difficulty in figuring out the exact date of Firuzabad, we do know that the third great palace at Ctesiphon, near the Tigris River, was built by Chosroes I in CE 550. Likely due to its closeness to Baghdad, which is about 25 miles away, it is much better known than the other examples we’ve mentioned; however, while those were made with rubble masonry, Ctesiphon is constructed from brick, as we have now returned to the alluvial plain where no stone was available. The only part of the palace that still exists is the section made of burnt brick, and this is significantly larger than both Serbistan and Firuzabad. Its main facade measured 312 feet; it was about 115 feet tall, and 175 feet deep. The design is very straightforward, consisting of an aiwan or large hall, 86 feet wide and 163 feet long, topped with an elliptical barrel vault, the pressure of which is balanced by five long halls on each side, also covered with barrel vaults and likely used as guard chambers or storage. The great hall was open at the front, creating a massive portal, 83 feet wide and 95 feet high at the peak of the arch. The base of the vault starts 40 feet above the ground, but up to about 26 feet above the base, the walls are built in horizontal layers that project inwards as they rise, reducing the actual width of the vaulted section (fig. 24) by one-sixth to only about 71 feet. The peak of the vault is 9 feet thick, while the walls at the bottom are 23 feet thick. The bricks or tiles used for the vault are laid flat, similar to those in Thebes, and there is a comparable slant to the rings of brickwork, which lean about 10° off vertical. This suggests that this enormous vault was constructed without centering, as the strong quality of the mortar would probably have been enough to keep each tile in place until the ring was completed. In building the arch of the grand portal, additional precautions were taken; bonding timber 23 feet long and arranged in five rows, one above the other, were built into the wall from front to back. The lower part of the arch (5 feet high) was built with bricks laid flat, while the upper section (4 feet high) was built in the standard way, at right angles to the face. This change was likely made so that the upper sections could be carved, as they have been, with a series of semi-circular cusps.

The decoration of the flanks of this great central portal is of the most bewildering description. There has evidently been a desire to give a monumental character to the main front. With this idea in view they would seem to have attempted to reproduce Roman features, such as are found decorating the fronts of the various amphitheatres of the Empire. But the semi-circular shafts which form the decoration do not come one over the other on the several storeys, and there is a reckless employment of blank arcades distributed over the surface.

The decoration on the sides of this large central entrance is incredibly complex. It’s clear that there was a goal to make the main front look monumental. With that in mind, it seems they tried to imitate Roman features, similar to those seen on the fronts of different amphitheaters from the Empire. However, the semi-circular columns used in the decoration don’t align perfectly on the various levels, and there’s a careless use of empty arcades scattered across the surface.

There are remains of two other palaces at Imamzade and Tag Iran, and in Moab a small example, the Hall of Rabboth Ammon, supposed to have been erected for Chosroes II. during the subjugation of Palestine, which is richly decorated with carving, probably by Syrio-Greek artists, with a mixture of Greek, Jewish and Sassanian details. At Takibostan and Behistun (Bisutun), some 200 m. north-east of Ctesiphon, are some remarkable Sassanian capitals and panels (published in Flandin and Coste’s Voyage en Perse, 1851, Paris).

There are remains of two other palaces at Imamzade and Tag Iran, and in Moab, there’s a smaller example, the Hall of Rabboth Ammon, believed to have been built for Chosroes II during the conquest of Palestine. This hall is richly decorated with carvings, likely by Syro-Greek artists, featuring a mix of Greek, Jewish, and Sassanian details. At Takibostan and Behistun (Bisutun), about 200 miles northeast of Ctesiphon, there are some impressive Sassanian capitals and panels (published in Flandin and Coste’s Voyage en Perse, 1851, Paris).

(R. P. S.)

Etruscan Architecture

Etruscan Architecture

Although our acquaintance with Etruscan architecture is confined chiefly to the entrance gateways and the walls of towns, and to tombs, it forms a very important link between the East and the West. Though little is known of the history of Etruria (q.v.), the influence which her people exerted on Roman architecture, lasting down to the period when Greece was overrun and plundered of her treasures, was so great that it would be difficult to follow the origin of Roman architecture without some inquiry into the work of its immediate predecessor. The theory put forward by Fergusson, as to the migration of the Etruscans from Asia Minor in the 12th or 11th century B.C., is substantiated by the resemblance of the tumuli in the latter country, such as those at Tantalais, on the northern shore of the gulf of Smyrna, and that of Alyattes near Sardis, as compared with the Regulini Galeassi tomb at Cervetri and the Cucumella tomb at Vulci, in all cases consisting of a sepulchral chamber buried under an immense mound surrounded by a podium in stone. The chamber was covered over with masonry, laid in horizontal courses, each stone projecting slightly over the one below. The same system of construction prevailed in the bee-hive tombs of Greece, except that the latter were always circular on plan, whilst these cited above were rectangular. Similar methods of construction are found at Tusculum and in a gateway at Arpino. In all these cases the projecting courses were worked off on the completion of the tomb, in Greece and at Tusculum and Arpino following a curve, and in the Regulini Galeassi tomb a raking line.

Although our knowledge of Etruscan architecture mainly comes from the entrance gates, town walls, and tombs, it is a crucial link between the East and the West. Even though we know little about Etruria's history (q.v.), the impact its people had on Roman architecture—lasting even through the time when Greece was invaded and stripped of its treasures—was so significant that tracing the origins of Roman architecture is challenging without looking into the work of its direct predecessor. Fergusson's theory about the Etruscans migrating from Asia Minor in the 12th or 11th century BCE is supported by the similarities between the tumuli in that region, like those at Tantalais on the northern shore of the Gulf of Smyrna, and the one at Alyattes near Sardis, when compared to the Regulini Galeassi tomb in Cervetri and the Cucumella tomb in Vulci. In all these cases, they feature a burial chamber beneath a large mound, surrounded by a stone podium. The chamber was covered with masonry arranged in horizontal layers, with each stone slightly overhanging the one below. This construction method was also used in the bee-hive tombs of Greece, though those were always circular, whereas the ones mentioned above were rectangular. Similar building techniques appear at Tusculum and in a gateway at Arpino. In all these instances, the projecting layers were finished when the tomb was complete, with Greece, Tusculum, and Arpino following a curved pattern, while in the Regulini Galeassi tomb, there was a sloping line.

The earliest example known of the arched vault, with regular voussoirs in stone, is found in the canal of the Marta near Graviscae, ascribed to the 7th century. The vault is 14 ft. in span, with voussoirs from 5 to 6 ft. in depth. In the tomb of Pythagoras near Cortona, with a span of about 10 ft., only four voussoirs were employed. In the Cloaca Maxima at Rome the vault (now ascribed by Commendatore Boni to the 1st century B.C.) is built with three concentric rings of voussoirs. In all these cases the thrust of the arch was amply resisted as they were constructed under ground, and in the entrance gateways at Volterra, Perugia and Falerii a similar resistance was given by the immense walls in which they were built.

The earliest known example of the arched vault, featuring regular stone voussoirs, is located in the canal of the Marta near Graviscae, dating back to the 7th century. The vault spans 14 ft. with voussoirs measuring between 5 to 6 ft. in depth. In the tomb of Pythagoras near Cortona, which has a span of about 10 ft., only four voussoirs were used. In the Cloaca Maxima in Rome, the vault (now attributed to the 1st century BCE by Commendatore Boni) is constructed with three concentric rings of voussoirs. In all these instances, the arch's thrust was effectively resisted since they were built underground, and in the entrance gateways at Volterra, Perugia, and Falerii, similar resistance was provided by the massive walls that contained them.

We have already referred to one class of tomb in which the sepulchral chamber, built above the ground, was covered over with a mound of earth; there is a second class, carved out of the solid rock, in which we find the same treatment as that described in connexion with Egypt. The tomb represents, in its internal arrangements and in its decorations, the earthly dwelling of the defunct (compare the Egyptian “soul-houses”). The ceilings are carved in imitation of the horizontal beams and slanting rafters of the roof, the former carried by square piers with capitals; one well-known tomb at Corneto (fig. 25) represents the atrium of an Etruscan house, which corresponds with the description given by Vitruvius of the cavaedia displuviata, in which there was a small opening at the top, known as the compluvium, the roof sloping down on all four sides.

We have already mentioned one type of tomb where the burial chamber, built above ground, was covered with a mound of earth. There is a second type, carved from solid rock, that exhibits the same features as those described in relation to Egypt. The tomb reflects, in its internal layout and decorations, the earthly home of the deceased (similar to the Egyptian “soul-houses”). The ceilings are carved to mimic horizontal beams and slanting rafters of a roof, with the beams supported by square piers topped with capitals. One well-known tomb in Corneto (fig. 25) depicts the atrium of an Etruscan house, which aligns with Vitruvius's description of the cavaedia displuviata, characterized by a small opening at the top called the compluvium, with the roof sloping down on all four sides.

The paintings which decorate these tombs have very much the same character as those which are found on what were thought to have been Etruscan, but are now generally considered as Greek vases, the principal difference being that instead of allegorical subjects, domestic scenes recalling the life of the deceased are represented. In a tomb at Cervetri the walls and piers were carved with representations of the helmets, swords and other accoutrements of a soldier, and also the mirrors and jewelry of his wife, even the kitchen utensils being included, so as to give the complete fittings of the house they occupied. In two examples at Castel D’Asso the rock has been cut away on all sides, leaving a rectangular block, crowned with reverse mouldings.

The paintings that decorate these tombs have a similar style to those found on what were once thought to be Etruscan but are now typically seen as Greek vases. The main difference is that, instead of allegorical themes, domestic scenes reflecting the life of the deceased are depicted. In a tomb at Cervetri, the walls and pillars were carved with images of helmets, swords, and other soldier gear, as well as mirrors and jewelry of his wife, even including kitchen utensils to display the complete furnishings of their home. In two examples at Castel D’Asso, the rock has been carved away on all sides, leaving a rectangular block topped with reverse moldings.

Scarcely any remains in situ of Etruscan temples have been found, and the description given by Vitruvius is very scanty. Of late years, however, in the British Museum and in the museums at Florence and Rome, a large amount of material has been brought together, from which it is possible to make some kind of conjectural restoration. This has been facilitated by the discoveries made at Olympia, Delphi and elsewhere in Greece, showing the important function which terra-cotta served in the protection and decoration of the timber roofs of the Greek temples and treasuries. The cornices, antefixae, pendant slabs and other decorative features in terra-cotta, found on the sites of the Etruscan temples, show that the timber construction of their roofs was protected in the same way; and although Vitruvius (bk. iii. ch. 2) considered the temple of Ceres at Rome to be clumsy and heavy, and its roofs low and wide, in comparison with the purer examples of Greek architecture, the remains of terra-cotta found at Civita Castellana (the ancient 383 Falerii), at Luna, Telamon and Lanuvium (the latter in the British Museum), show that in their modelling and colour they must have possessed considerable decorative effect, and when raised on an eminence, as in the case of the temple of Jupiter on the Capitol, formed striking features of importance, enriched as they were with gilding. There is one feature in the Etruscan examples which seems to have been peculiar to their temples, viz. the pendant slabs hung round the eaves to protect the walls; these latter were probably covered with stucco and decorated with paintings. The lower portions of many of these slabs were decorated in relief and in colour at the back, showing that they were exposed to view below the soffit of the projecting eaves.

Scarcely any remains in situ of Etruscan temples have been found, and the description provided by Vitruvius is very limited. However, in recent years, a lot of material has been gathered in the British Museum and the museums in Florence and Rome, allowing for some sort of educated guess at restoration. This has been made easier by the discoveries at Olympia, Delphi, and other locations in Greece, which highlight the key role that terra-cotta played in protecting and decorating the wooden roofs of Greek temples and treasuries. The cornices, antefixae, pendant slabs, and other decorative elements in terra-cotta found at the sites of the Etruscan temples suggest that the wooden roofs of these structures were similarly protected; and although Vitruvius (bk. iii. ch. 2) described the temple of Ceres in Rome as clumsy and heavy, with low and wide roofs compared to the cleaner examples of Greek architecture, the terra-cotta remains discovered at Civita Castellana (the ancient 383 Falerii), at Luna, Telamon, and Lanuvium (the latter in the British Museum) indicate that in terms of design and color, they had a significant decorative impact, especially when positioned on a rise, as seen with the temple of Jupiter on the Capitol, which stood out as an important feature, enhanced by gilding. One aspect of the Etruscan temples that appears to be unique to them is the pendant slabs hung around the eaves to protect the walls; these walls were likely covered with stucco and adorned with paintings. The lower parts of many of these slabs were decorated in relief and color on the back, indicating that they were visible below the edge of the projecting eaves.

Fig. 25.—The Corneto Tomb.

Owing to the ephemeral nature of the materials employed in the building of the walls of Etruscan temples, viz. unburned brick or rubble masonry with clay mortar, the roofs being in timber, little is known of their general design; the terra-cotta decorations are, however, fortunately in good preservation, and suggest that although the Etruscan temple, architecturally speaking, was not of a very monumental character, its external decoration and colour added considerably to its effect.

Due to the temporary materials used in constructing Etruscan temple walls, such as unburned brick or rubble masonry with clay mortar, and timber roofs, not much is known about their overall design. However, the terra-cotta decorations are well-preserved and indicate that while the Etruscan temple wasn’t very monumental architecturally, its external decoration and color greatly enhanced its appearance.

(R. P. S.)

Roman Architecture

Roman Architecture

The rebuilding of Rome, which began in the reign of Augustus, and was carried on by his successors to a much greater extent, has caused the destruction of nearly all those examples of early work to which the student, working out the history of a style, would turn. There are, however, a few early buildings still existing, and these are of value as showing the extremely simple nature of their design. The temple of Fortuna Virilis (so-called) in the Forum Boarium, attributed to the beginning of the 1st century B.C., shows the great difference between Greek and Roman temples. Like the Etruscan temple, it is raised on a podium, and approached by a flight of steps. The Etruscan cella is dispensed with; and what may be looked upon as the semblance of a Greek peristyle is retained in the semi-detached columns which are carried round the walls of the cella. To the entrance portico, however, the Roman architect attached great importance, and we find here that one-third of the whole length of the temple is given up to the portico. The Tabularium built by Lutatius Catulas (78 B.C.) is a second example of early work. On a lofty substructure, built of peperino stone, was raised an arcade, which formed a passage from one side of the capitol to the other, and here we find the earliest example of the use of the Classic order, as a decorative feature only, applied to the face of a wall. The arcade consists of a series of arches with intermediate semi-detached Doric columns carrying an entablature. The architectural design of the substructure is of the simplest kind, depending for its effect only on the size of the stones employed and the finish given to the masonry. The same remark applies to the few remains left of the Forum Julium (47 B.C.), where an additional decorative effect was produced by the bevelled edge worked round all the stones, producing the effect of rusticated masonry.

The rebuilding of Rome, which started during the reign of Augustus and continued even more extensively under his successors, has led to the destruction of almost all the examples of early work that students studying the history of a style would reference. However, a few early buildings still exist, and they are valuable because they illustrate the very simple nature of their design. The so-called Temple of Fortuna Virilis in the Forum Boarium, dated to the beginning of the 1st century B.C., highlights the significant differences between Greek and Roman temples. Like the Etruscan temple, it is raised on a podium and accessed by a flight of steps. The Etruscan cella is omitted, and what might appear as a Greek peristyle is represented by the semi-detached columns surrounding the walls of the cella. The entrance portico, however, was very important to Roman architects, and we see that one-third of the entire length of the temple is dedicated to the portico. The Tabularium, built by Lutatius Catulus in 78 B.C., is another example of early work. It featured a lofty substructure made of peperino stone, topped with an arcade that created a passage from one side of the Capitol to the other. Here we find the earliest example of using the Classic order purely as a decorative element applied to the wall's face. The arcade consists of a series of arches with semi-detached Doric columns in between, supporting an entablature. The architectural design of the substructure is very simple, relying on the size of the stones used and the finish of the masonry for its visual impact. The same observation applies to the few remaining parts of the Forum Julium from 47 B.C., where additional decorative effects were created by the beveled edges around all the stones, giving the appearance of rusticated masonry.

If, however, the remains are few, the records of classical writers show that already before the beginning of the 1st century B.C. the influence of Greece had been shown in the transformation of the Forum, the embanking of the river Tiber, the erection of numerous porticoes throughout the Campus Martius, and of basilicas, one of which, rebuilt by Paulus Aemilius in 50 B.C., was remarkable for its monolithic columns of pavonazetto marble; and further that on the Palatine hill were various mansions, the courts and peristyles of which were richly decorated with marble.

If the remains are limited, the writings of ancient authors indicate that even before the 1st century B.C., Greece's influence was evident in the changes made to the Forum, the banks of the Tiber River, the construction of many porticoes across the Campus Martius, and basilicas, one of which was reconstructed by Paulus Aemilius in 50 B.C. and was notable for its monolithic columns made of pavonazetto marble. Additionally, on the Palatine Hill, there were several mansions with richly decorated courts and peristyles featuring marble.

The boast of Augustus that he found Reme built of brick and left it in marble is true in a sense, but not in the way it is usually interpreted. He greatly encouraged the use of marble—the temple of Venus in the forum of Julius Caesar is said to have been built entirely of that material—but as a rule marble was only used as a facing. This, however, led to the substitution of solid concrete for the core of walls, in place of the unburnt brick which up to that time had been employed. On this subject the writings of Vitruvius, the Roman architect, are of the greatest value, as they describe clearly not only the materials used at this time (about 30 B.C.), but the different methods of building walls (see Rome). The material which contributed more than any other to the magnificent conceptions of the Roman Imperial style was that known as pozzolana, a volcanic earth which, mixed with lime, formed an hydraulic cement of great cohesion and strength. Not only the walls but the vaults were built in this pozzolana concrete, and formed one solid mass. Bricks were employed in arches, on the quoins of walls, occasionally in bond courses, and in the constructional vaults as ribs, in order to relieve the centreing of the weight until the pozzolana concrete had been poured in and had consolidated. The bricks employed in these ribs, and for the voussoirs of arches, were of the kind we should describe as tiles, being about 2 ft. square and 2 in. thick. Bricks also of smaller size and triangular in shape were used for the facing of walls, the triangular portions being embedded into the concrete walls.

The claim by Augustus that he found Rome made of brick and left it in marble is true in a way, but not as commonly understood. He strongly promoted the use of marble—the temple of Venus in Julius Caesar's forum is said to have been made entirely of that material—but generally, marble was only used as a veneer. This, however, led to using solid concrete for the core of walls, replacing the unburnt brick that had been used until then. The writings of Vitruvius, the Roman architect, are extremely valuable on this topic, as they clearly describe not only the materials used at this time (around 30 B.C.), but also the different methods of building walls (see Rome). The material that contributed most to the impressive designs of the Roman Imperial style was known as pozzolana, a volcanic earth that, when mixed with lime, created a hydraulic cement of great strength and durability. Both the walls and the vaults were constructed using this pozzolana concrete, forming a solid structure. Bricks were used in arches, on the corners of walls, occasionally in bond courses, and in construction vaults as ribs to support the weight until the pozzolana concrete was poured and solidified. The bricks used for these ribs and as voussoirs in arches were what we would call tiles, being about 2 ft. square and 2 in. thick. Smaller, triangular bricks were also used for wall facing, with the triangular portions embedded into the concrete walls.

The Romans themselves do not seem to have realized the tenacious properties of this pozzolana cement which, when employed for the foundation of temples, formed a solid mass capable of bearing as much weight as the rock itself. They feared also the thrust of the immense vaults over their halls, and always provided crosswalls to counteract the same, as shown in the plan of all the thermae; when, however, they had discovered the secret of covering over large spaces with a permanent casing indestructible by fire, it not only gave an impetus to the great works in Rome, but led to a new type of plan, which spread all through the Empire, varied only by the difference in materials and in labour. In this respect the Romans always availed themselves of the resources of the country, which they turned to the best account. As pozzolana was not to be found in North Africa or Syria, they had to trust to the excellent qualities of the Roman mortar, but even in Syria, where stone was plentiful and could be obtained in great dimensions, when they attempted to erect vaults of great span similar to those in Rome, these probably collapsed before the building was finished, and were replaced by roofs in wood.

The Romans themselves didn’t seem to recognize the strong properties of this pozzolana cement, which, when used for temple foundations, created a solid mass that could support as much weight as the rock itself. They were also concerned about the pressure from the massive vaults over their halls and always included crosswalls to counteract that, as seen in the design of all the thermae. However, once they discovered how to cover large spaces with a fireproof permanent casing, it not only boosted major construction efforts in Rome but also led to a new architectural style that spread throughout the Empire, differing only in materials and labor. In this regard, the Romans always made the most of local resources. Since pozzolana wasn’t available in North Africa or Syria, they had to rely on the excellent qualities of Roman mortar. Even in Syria, where stone was abundant and could be sourced in large sizes, when they tried to build large vaults like those in Rome, these likely collapsed before completion and were replaced with wooden roofs.

In the styles hitherto described the gradual development has been traced to their primitive, culminating and decadent periods. This is not called for in a description of the Roman style of architecture, which to a certain extent appeared phoenix-like in its highest development under Augustus. Roman orders in the Augustan age had reached their culminating development. The capitals of the portico of the Pantheon (27 B.C.), or of the temple of Mars Ultor (2 B.C.), constitute the finest examples of the Corinthian order, whilst those of later temples show a falling off in style. It was only in the application of the orders that new combinations presented themselves, and this can be better understood when we refer to the monuments themselves. The description of the Roman orders, with the subsequent modifications, is given in the article Order. It is necessary, however, here to draw attention to two very important developments which the Roman architect introduced as regards the orders: firstly, their employment as decorative features in combination with the arcade, known as composite arcades, and secondly, their superposition one above the other in storeys. The earliest example of the first class is that found in the Tabularium as it now exists; of the second class the Colosseum and the theatre of Marcellus are the best known examples. In principle the practice must be condemned, for the employment of the column and entablature, which was designed by the Greek architect as an independent constructive feature, in a purely decorative sense stuck on the face of a wall, is contrary to good taste, but it is impossible not to recognize in its application to the Colosseum the value of the scale which it has given to the whole structure, a scale which would have been entirely lost if the building had been treated as one storey. The superposition of the orders as exemplified in the Roman theatres and amphitheatres throughout the Empire constitutes the greatest development made in the style, and it is one which, from the Italian revivalists down to our time, has had more influence in the design of monumental work than any other Roman innovation.

In the styles previously described, we've traced their gradual development through their early, peak, and declining phases. However, this isn’t necessary for describing Roman architectural style, which, in many ways, emerged dramatically during its peak under Augustus. The Roman orders in the Augustan era had reached their highest form. The capitals of the portico of the Pantheon (27 B.C.) and the temple of Mars Ultor (2 B.C.) are some of the finest examples of the Corinthian order, while those from later temples show a decline in style. Only in the application of these orders did new combinations arise, which can be better understood by looking at the monuments themselves. The details of Roman orders, along with their later modifications, can be found in the article Order. However, it’s important to highlight two significant developments that Roman architects introduced concerning these orders: first, their use as decorative elements in combination with the arcade, known as composite arcades, and second, their stacking on top of one another in layers. The earliest example of the first type is seen in the Tabularium as it currently stands; for the second type, the Colosseum and the theatre of Marcellus are the most well-known examples. In theory, this practice should be criticized because using columns and entablatures, which were designed by Greek architects as independent structural features, merely as decorative additions on walls goes against good taste. Yet, it’s hard not to acknowledge how valuable their use in the Colosseum is for the overall scale of the structure, a scale that would have been completely lost if the building had been designed as a single level. The stacking of the orders, as seen in Roman theaters and amphitheaters across the Empire, represents the greatest advancement in this style and has influenced monumental design more than any other Roman innovation, from the Italian Renaissance to the present day.

In the preceding sections it has been necessary to confine our descriptions, in the case of Egypt and Greece, more or less to temples and tombs, and in that of Assyria to palaces, but in Roman architecture the monuments are not only of the most extensive and varied kinds, but in some parts of the Empire they become modified by the requirements of the country, so that a tabulated list alone would occupy a considerable space. The following are the principal subdivisions: The Roman forum (see Rome); the colonnaded streets in Syria and elsewhere, and temple enclosures; temples (q.v.), rectangular and circular; basilicas (q.v.); theatres (q.v.) and amphitheatres (q.v.); thermae or baths (q.v.); entrance gateways and triumph arches (see Triumphal Arch); memorial buildings and tombs, aqueducts (q.v.) and bridges (q.v.), palatial architecture (see Palace); domestic architecture (see House).

In the previous sections, we had to limit our descriptions for Egypt and Greece mostly to temples and tombs, and for Assyria to palaces. However, in Roman architecture, the structures are not only extensive and varied but also adapted to the needs of different regions of the Empire, making a simple list quite lengthy. Here are the main categories: The Roman forum (see Rome); the colonnaded streets in Syria and other places, along with temple enclosures; temples (q.v.), both rectangular and circular; basilicas (q.v.); theatres (q.v.) and amphitheatres (q.v.); thermae or baths (q.v.); entrance gateways and triumphal arches (see Triumphal Arch); memorial buildings and tombs, aqueducts (q.v.) and bridges (q.v.), palatial architecture (see Palace); domestic architecture (see House).

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The Forum Romanum under the Republic would seem to have served several purposes. The principal temples and important public buildings occupied sites round it, and up to the time of Julius Caesar there were shops on both sides: it was also used as a hippodrome and served for combats and other displays. Under the Empire, however, these were relegated to the amphitheatre and the theatre, markets were provided for elsewhere, and the forum became the chief centre for the temples, basilicas, courts of law and exchanges. But already in the time of Julius Caesar the Forum Romanum had become too small, and others were built by succeeding emperors. In order to find room for these, not only were numerous crowded sites cleared, but vast portions of the Quirinal hill were cut away to make place for them. The Fora added were those of Julius Caesar, Augustus, Trajan, Nerva and Vespasian. Outside Rome, in provincial towns and in Africa and Syria, the Forum was generally built on the intersection of the two main streets, and was surrounded by porticoes, temples and civic monuments.

The Forum Romanum during the Republic seems to have had multiple functions. The main temples and significant public buildings were located around it, and up until Julius Caesar’s time, there were shops on both sides; it also served as a hippodrome and hosted fights and other events. However, under the Empire, these activities were moved to the amphitheater and the theater, markets were established elsewhere, and the forum became the main hub for temples, basilicas, courthouses, and exchanges. By Julius Caesar's time, the Forum Romanum had already become too small, leading subsequent emperors to build others. To create space for these, many congested areas were cleared, and large portions of the Quirinal hill were cut down to make room. The added Fora included those of Julius Caesar, Augustus, Trajan, Nerva, and Vespasian. Outside of Rome, in provincial towns and in Africa and Syria, the Forum was typically constructed at the intersection of the two main streets and was surrounded by porticoes, temples, and civic monuments.

Colonnaded Streets.—We gather from some Roman authors that in early days the Campus Martius was laid out with porticoes. All these features have disappeared, but there are still some existing in Syria, North Africa and Asia Minor, which are known as colonnaded streets. The most important of these are found in Palmyra, where the street was 70 ft. wide with a central avenue open to the sky and side avenues roofed over with stone. The columns employed were of the Corinthian order, 31 ft. high, and formed a peristyle on each side of the street, which was nearly a mile in length. The triple archway in this street is still one of the finest examples of Roman architecture. At Gerasa, the colonnaded streets had columns of the Ionic order, the street being 1800 ft. long, with other streets at right angles to it; similar streets are found at Amman, Bosra, Kanawat, &c. At Pompeiopolis, in Asia Minor, are still many streets of columns, and in North Africa the French archaeologists have traced numerous others.

Colonnaded Streets.—We learn from some Roman writers that in ancient times, the Campus Martius was designed with porticoes. Although most of these features are gone now, some still exist in Syria, North Africa, and Asia Minor, which are called colonnaded streets. The most significant of these can be found in Palmyra, where the street was 70 ft. wide, featuring a central avenue open to the sky and side avenues covered with stone. The columns used were of the Corinthian style, standing 31 ft. high, creating a peristyle on each side of the street, which was nearly a mile long. The triple archway in this street remains one of the best examples of Roman architecture. In Gerasa, the colonnaded streets had columns of the Ionic style, with the street stretching 1800 ft., along with other streets running at right angles to it; similar streets can be found in Amman, Bosra, Kanawat, etc. Pompeiopolis, in Asia Minor, still has many streets lined with columns, and in North Africa, French archaeologists have uncovered many others.

Temple Enclosures.—In Rome the great cost, and the difficulty of obtaining large sites, restricted the size of the enclosures of the temples; this was to a certain extent compensated for by the magnificence of the porticoes surrounding them. The most important was that built by Hadrian, measuring 480 ft. by 330 ft., to enclose the double temples of Venus and Rome. The portico of Octavia measures 400 ft. by 370 ft., enclosing two temples, and the portico of the Argonauts, which enclosed the temple of Neptune, was about 300 ft. square. These dimensions, however, are far exceeded by those of the enclosures in Syria and Asia Minor. The court of the temple of the Sun at Palmyra was raised on an artificial platform 16 ft. high, and measured 735 ft. by 725 ft., with an enclosure wall of 74 ft. on the west and 67 ft. high on the other three sides.

Temple Enclosures.—In Rome, the high cost and difficulty of securing large sites limited the size of the temple enclosures; this was somewhat balanced out by the grandeur of the porticoes that surrounded them. The most significant was the one constructed by Hadrian, which measured 480 ft. by 330 ft. and enclosed the double temples of Venus and Rome. The portico of Octavia measures 400 ft. by 370 ft., enclosing two temples, while the portico of the Argonauts, which enclosed the temple of Neptune, was about 300 ft. square. However, these dimensions are greatly surpassed by the enclosures found in Syria and Asia Minor. The court of the temple of the Sun at Palmyra was built on an artificial platform 16 ft. high and measured 735 ft. by 725 ft., with an enclosure wall that stood 74 ft. on the west side and 67 ft. high on the other three sides.

At Baalbek the platform was raised 25 ft. above the ground, the dimensions being 400 ft. wide and 900 ft. deep. At Damascus the enclosure of the temple of the Sun has been traced, and it extended to about 1000 ft. square. Similar enclosures are found at Gerasa, Amman and other Syrian towns. In Asia Minor, at Aizani the platform was 520 by 480 ft., raised about 20 ft., and in Africa the French have found the remains of similar enclosures.

At Baalbek, the platform was raised 25 feet above the ground, measuring 400 feet wide and 900 feet deep. In Damascus, the area around the temple of the Sun has been identified, and it covered about 1000 square feet. Similar areas can be found in Gerasa, Amman, and other Syrian towns. In Asia Minor, at Aizani, the platform was 520 by 480 feet, raised about 20 feet, and in Africa, the French have discovered the remains of similar areas.

Roman Temples.—The Romans, following the Etruscan custom, invariably raised their temples on a podium with a flight of steps on the main front. Their temples were not orientated, and being regarded more as monuments than religious structures occupied prominent sites facing the Forum or some great avenue. Much importance was attached to the entrance portico, which was deeper than those in Greek temples, and the peristyle when it existed was rarely carried round the back. On the other hand the cella exceeded in span those of the Greek temples, as the Roman, being acquainted with the principle of trussing timbers, could roof over wider spaces. The principal temples in Rome, of which remains still exist, are those of Fortuna Virilis, Mars Ultor, Castor, Neptune, Antoninus and Faustina, Concord, Vespasian, Saturn and portions of the double temples of Venus and Rome. At Pompeii are the temples of Jupiter and Apollo, at Cora the temple of Mercury, and in France, the Maison Carrée at Nîmes and the temple at Vienne. In Syria are the temples of Jupiter at Baalbek, of the Sun at Palmyra and Gerasa, and in Spalato the temple of Aesculapius.

Roman Temples.—The Romans, following the Etruscan tradition, always built their temples on a platform with a set of steps in the front. Their temples weren't oriented in a specific direction, and since they were seen more as monuments than as places of worship, they were usually located in prominent spots facing the Forum or along major streets. The entrance portico was given significant importance, being deeper than those in Greek temples, and if there was a peristyle, it rarely wrapped around the back. However, the cella was larger than those in Greek temples because the Romans understood how to use trussed timbers, allowing them to create wider roofs. The main temples that still exist in Rome include those of Fortuna Virilis, Mars Ultor, Castor, Neptune, Antoninus and Faustina, Concord, Vespasian, Saturn, and parts of the twin temples of Venus and Rome. In Pompeii, there are the temples of Jupiter and Apollo, in Cora the temple of Mercury, and in France, the Maison Carrée in Nîmes and the temple in Vienne. In Syria, you'll find the temples of Jupiter in Baalbek, the Sun in Palmyra and Gerasa, and in Spalato, the temple of Aesculapius.

Of circular temples the chief are the Pantheon at Rome, the temple of Vesta on the Forum, of Mater Matuta, so-called, on the Forum Boarium, the temple of Vesta at Tivoli, of Jupiter at Spalato and of Venus at Baalbek.

Of circular temples, the main ones are the Pantheon in Rome, the Temple of Vesta in the Forum, the Temple of Mater Matuta in the Forum Boarium, the Temple of Vesta in Tivoli, the Temple of Jupiter in Spalato, and the Temple of Venus in Baalbek.

Of the rectangular temples the Maison Carrée at Nîmes is the most perfect example existing (fig. 26). It was built by Antoninus Pius, and dedicated to his adopted sons Lucius and Martius. This temple, 59 ft. by 117 ft., is of the Corinthian order, hexastyle, pseudoperipteral, with a portico three columns deep, and is raised on a podium 12 ft. high. The next best preserved example is the temple of Jupiter at Baalbek, also of the Corinthian order, octastyle, peripteral, with a deep portico, and a cella richly decorated with three-quarter detached shafts of the Corinthian order.

Of the rectangular temples, the Maison Carrée in Nîmes is the best-preserved example we have (fig. 26). It was built by Antoninus Pius and dedicated to his adopted sons, Lucius and Martius. This temple measures 59 ft. by 117 ft. and features the Corinthian order, with six columns across the front, a pseudoperipteral design, and a portico that is three columns deep, all raised on a 12 ft. high podium. The next best-preserved example is the temple of Jupiter at Baalbek, which is also in the Corinthian order, has eight columns across the front, a peripteral design, a deep portico, and a cella adorned with richly decorated three-quarter detached Corinthian columns.

Of the circular temples the Pantheon is the most remarkable. It was built by Hadrian, and consists of an immense rotunda 142 ft. in diameter, covered with a hemispherical dome 140 ft. high. Its walls are 20 ft. thick, and have alternately semicircular and rectangular recesses in them. In the centre of the dome is a circular opening 30 ft. in diameter open to the sky, the only source from which the light is obtained. The rotunda is preceded by a portico, originally built by Agrippa as the front of the rectangular temple erected by him, taken down and re-erected after the completion of the rotunda, with the omission of the two outer columns. In other words Agrippa’s portico was decastyle; the actual portico is octastyle.

Of the circular temples, the Pantheon is the most impressive. It was constructed by Hadrian and features a huge rotunda that measures 142 ft. in diameter, topped by a hemispherical dome that rises to 140 ft. Its walls are 20 ft. thick and have alternating semicircular and rectangular recesses. In the center of the dome is a round opening, 30 ft. in diameter, that lets in light from the sky, which is the only source of illumination for the space. The rotunda is preceded by a portico that was originally built by Agrippa as the front of the rectangular temple he created. This portico was taken down and rebuilt after the rotunda was completed, with the two outer columns removed. Essentially, Agrippa's portico was designed with ten columns, while the current portico has eight.

Basilicas.—The earliest example of which remains exist is that of the Basilica Julia on the Forum, the complete plan of which is now exposed to view. It consisted of a central hall measuring 255 ft. by 60 ft., surrounded by a double aisle of arches carried on piers, which were covered with groined vaults. The Basilica Ulpia built by Trajan was similar in plan, but in the place of the piers were monolith columns, with Corinthian capitals carrying an entablature, with an upper storey forming a gallery round.

Basilicas.—The earliest surviving example of a basilica is the Basilica Julia in the Forum, whose complete layout is currently on display. It featured a central hall measuring 255 ft. by 60 ft., surrounded by a double row of arches supported by piers, which were topped with groined vaults. The Basilica Ulpia, built by Trajan, had a similar design, but instead of piers, it used monolithic columns with Corinthian capitals supporting an entablature, topped with an upper level creating a gallery all around.

Fig. 26.—Elevation and plan of the Maison Carrée, Nîmes.

The third great basilica, commenced by Maxentius and completed by Constantine, differs entirely from the two above mentioned. It followed the design and construction of the Tepidarium of the Roman thermae, and consisted of a hall 275 ft. long by 82 ft. wide and 114 ft. high, covered with an intersecting barrel vault with deep recesses on each side which communicated one with the other by arched openings and constituted the aisles.

The third great basilica, started by Maxentius and finished by Constantine, is completely different from the two mentioned earlier. It was designed based on the Tepidarium of the Roman baths and featured a hall that was 275 feet long, 82 feet wide, and 114 feet high, topped with an intersecting barrel vault. There were deep recesses on each side that connected with each other through arched openings, forming the aisles.

Theatres.—The only example in Rome is the theatre of Marcellus, built by Augustus 13 B.C., and one of the purest examples of Roman architecture. Amongst the best preserved examples is the theatre of Orange in the south of France, the stage of which was 203 ft. long. In the theatre at Taormina in Sicily are still preserved some of the columns which decorated the rear wall of the stage. The theatre of Herodes Atticus at Athens (A.D. 160) retains portions of its enclosure walls and some of the marble seats. There are two theatres in Pompeii where the seats and the stage are in fair preservation. Other examples in Asia Minor are at Aizani, Side, Telmessus, Alinda, and in Syria at Amman, Gerasa, Shuhba and Beisan.

Theatres.—The only example in Rome is the Theatre of Marcellus, built by Augustus in 13 BCE, and it's one of the best examples of Roman architecture. Among the best-preserved examples is the theater in Orange, in the south of France, with a stage that measures 203 ft. long. The theater at Taormina in Sicily still has some of the columns that decorated the back wall of the stage. The theater of Herodes Atticus in Athens (CE 160) still has parts of its enclosing walls and some of the marble seats. There are two theaters in Pompeii that have well-preserved seats and stage. Other examples in Asia Minor can be found in Aizani, Side, Telmessus, Alinda, and in Syria at Amman, Gerasa, Shuhba, and Beisan.

Amphitheatres.—The largest amphitheatre is that known as the Colosseum, commenced by Vespasian in A.D. 72, continued by Titus and dedicated by the latter in A.D. 80. This refers to the three lower 385 storeys, for the topmost storey was not erected until the first part of the 3rd century, when it was completed by Severus Alexander and Gordianus. The building is elliptical in plan and measures 620 ft. for the major axis and 513 ft. for the minor axis. There were eighty entrances, two of which were reserved for the emperor and his suite. The Cavea (q.v.) was divided into four ranges of seats; the whole of the exterior and the principal corridors were built in travertine stone, and all other corridors, staircases and substructures in concrete. Externally the wall was divided into four storeys, the three lower ones with arcades divided by semi-detached columns of the Tuscan, the Ionic and the Corinthian orders respectively. The walls of the topmost storey were decorated with pilasters of the Corinthian order, the only openings there being small windows, to light the corridors and the upper range of seats. Among other amphitheatres the best preserved are those found at Capua, Verona, and Pompeii in Italy; at El Jem in North Africa; at Pola in Istria, and at Aries and Nîmes in France.

Amphitheatres.—The largest amphitheatre is known as the Colosseum, started by Vespasian in CE 72, continued by Titus, and dedicated by him in CE 80. This refers to the three lower 385 levels, since the top level wasn't built until the early 3rd century, when it was finished by Severus Alexander and Gordianus. The building has an elliptical shape, measuring 620 ft for the long axis and 513 ft for the short axis. There were eighty entrances, two of which were reserved for the emperor and his entourage. The seating area (q.v.) was divided into four sections; the entire exterior and the main corridors were constructed from travertine stone, while all other corridors, staircases, and substructures were made of concrete. The exterior wall was split into four levels, with the three lower ones featuring arcades divided by semi-detached columns in the Tuscan, Ionic, and Corinthian styles, respectively. The walls of the top level were adorned with Corinthian pilasters, and the only openings there were small windows to illuminate the corridors and the upper seating section. Some of the best-preserved amphitheatres, besides the Colosseum, can be found in Capua, Verona, and Pompeii in Italy; El Jem in North Africa; Pola in Istria; and Aries and Nîmes in France.

The Thermae or Imperial Baths.—The term thermae is given to the immense bathing establishments which were built by the emperors to ingratiate themselves with the people. Of the ordinary baths (Balneae) there were numerous examples not only in Rome but at Pompeii and throughout the Empire. The thermae were devoted not only to baths but to gymnastic pursuits of every kind, and being the resorts of the poets, philosophers and statesmen of the day, contained numerous halls where discussions and orations could take place. The plans of these thermae were measured by Palladio about 1560, at a time when they were in far better preservation and more extensive than they are to-day. They have, however, been measured since by some of the French Grand Prix students; and Blouet’s work on the Thermae of Caracalla(1828) and Paulin’s on the Thermae of Diocletian(1890) give accurate drawings as well as conjectural restorations which are of the greatest value. The earliest thermae were those built by Agrippa (20 B.C.) in the Campus Martius, and of others those of Titus and Trajan are the best preserved; plans can be found in Cameron’s Baths(1775).

The Thermae or Imperial Baths.—The term thermae refers to the large bathing facilities that the emperors built to win over the public. There were many ordinary baths (Balneae) found not only in Rome but also in Pompeii and throughout the Empire. The thermae served not just for bathing but also for various gymnastic activities and became hangouts for poets, philosophers, and politicians of the time, featuring numerous halls for discussions and speeches. Palladio measured the layouts of these thermae around 1560, when they were in much better condition and larger than they are today. They have since been surveyed by some French Grand Prix students; Blouet's work on the Thermae of Caracalla (1828) and Paulin's on the Thermae of Diocletian (1890) provide accurate drawings as well as theoretical restorations that are extremely valuable. The earliest thermae were those constructed by Agrippa (20 BCE) in the Campus Martius, and among others, the ones built by Titus and Trajan are the best preserved; plans can be found in Cameron’s Baths (1775).

Entrance Gateways and Arches of Triumph.—As the entrance gateways were sometimes erected to commemorate some important event, we have grouped these together, the real difference being that the arch of triumph was an isolated feature and served no utilitarian purpose, whereas the entrance gateway constituted part of the external walls of the city and could be opened and closed at will. Of the latter those at Verona, Susa, Perugia and Aosta in Italy, Autun in France, and the Porta Nigra at Trèves (Trier) are the best known, but there are also numerous examples throughout Syria and North Africa. The arches of triumph offered a fine scope for decoration with bas-reliefs setting forth the principal events of the campaign; the representation on coins also suggests that they were looked upon as pedestals to carry large groups of sculpture. The best known examples are those of Titus, Septimius Severus and Constantine at Rome, of Trajan at Ancona, and, in France, at Orange, St Remi and Reims. There were numerous examples throughout North Africa and Syria, of which the arch of Caracalla at Tebessa in the former and the great gateway of Palmyra in Syria are the best preserved.

Entrance Gateways and Arches of Triumph.—Entrance gateways were sometimes built to celebrate important events, so we’ve grouped these together. The main difference is that the arch of triumph was a standalone structure with no practical use, while the entrance gateway was part of the city’s outer walls and could be opened or closed as needed. The most famous entrance gateways are in Verona, Susa, Perugia, and Aosta in Italy, Autun in France, and the Porta Nigra in Trier. There are also many examples in Syria and North Africa. The arches of triumph were beautifully decorated with bas-reliefs showcasing key events from campaigns; depictions on coins indicate they were also seen as pedestals for large sculptures. The most well-known arches include those of Titus, Septimius Severus, and Constantine in Rome, Trajan's in Ancona, and in France, those at Orange, St. Remi, and Reims. There were many examples across North Africa and Syria, with the arch of Caracalla in Tebessa and the great gateway in Palmyra being the best preserved.

Memorial Buildings and Tombs.—Columns of victory constituted another type of memorial, and the shafts of the columns of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius in Rome lent themselves to a better representation of the records of victory than those which could be obtained in the panels of a triumphal arch. Other columns erected are those of Antoninus Pius in Rome, a column at Alexandria, and others in France and Italy.

Memorial Buildings and Tombs.—Victory columns were another kind of memorial, and the shafts of the columns of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius in Rome provided a better way to depict the records of victory than what could be shown in the panels of a triumphal arch. Other columns that were built include those of Antoninus Pius in Rome, a column in Alexandria, and others in France and Italy.

If the Romans derived from the Etruscans a custom of erecting tombs in memory of the dead, they did not follow on the same lines, for whilst the Etruscans always excavated the tomb in the solid rock, constituting a more lasting memorial, the Romans regarded them as monumental features and lined the routes of the via sacra of their towns with them. The earliest example remaining is that of Caecilia Metella (58 B.C.), of which the upper portion, consisting of a circular drum 93 ft. in diameter, remains. Of the tomb of Hadrian the core only exists in the castle of Sant’ Angelo. From the descriptions given it must have been a work of great magnificence. The tombs known as Columbaria (q.v.) were always below ground, but in some cases an upper storey was built above them consisting of a small temple, and these flanked the Via Appia in large numbers. At Pompeii outside the Herculaneum Gate the Via Appia was lined on both sides with tombs of varied design, and with exedrae or circular seats in marble, provided for the use of those visiting the tombs. The tombs in Syria form a very large and important series, the earliest perhaps being those in Palmyra, where they took the form of lofty towers, from 70 to 90 ft. high, externally simple as regards their design, but in the several storeys inside profusely decorated with Corinthian pilasters and coffered ceilings in stone. The tombs in Jerusalem built in the 1st century of our era are partly excavated in the rock and partly erected. The most important were those known as the tomb of Absalom, the tomb of St James, and the tombs of the judges and the kings, all cut in the solid rock. In central Syria some of the tombs are excavated in the rock, and over them are built a group of two or more columns held together by their entablatures. The most important series are the tombs at Petra, all cut in the side of cliffs and of elaborate design. The sculptor, being free from the restriction of construction, realized his conception much in the same way as a scene-painter produces a theatrical background.

If the Romans took the tradition of building tombs to honor the dead from the Etruscans, they didn't do it in the same way. The Etruscans always carved their tombs out of solid rock, creating a more enduring memorial, while the Romans viewed them as monumental features and lined the paths of the via sacra in their towns with them. The earliest remaining example is that of Caecilia Metella (58 B.C.), featuring an upper section that is a circular drum with a diameter of 93 ft. Only the core remains of the tomb of Hadrian, which is now in the castle of Sant' Angelo. From the descriptions, it must have been an impressive work. The tombs known as Columbaria (q.v.) were always below ground, but in some cases, there was an upper level built over them that included a small temple, and these were numerous along the Via Appia. At Pompeii, outside the Herculaneum Gate, the Via Appia was flanked by tombs of various designs on both sides, featuring exedrae or marble circular seats provided for visitors. The tombs in Syria make up a significant and large series, with the earliest being those in Palmyra, which took the form of tall towers, standing between 70 and 90 ft. high. Externally, they were simple in design, but inside, their multiple storeys were richly decorated with Corinthian pilasters and coffered stone ceilings. The tombs in Jerusalem from the 1st century A.D. are partially carved into the rock and partially built. The most notable among these are the tomb of Absalom, the tomb of St James, and the tombs of the judges and kings, all hewn from solid rock. In central Syria, some tombs are excavated into the rock, with a cluster of two or more columns built above them, held together by their entablatures. The most significant series are the tombs at Petra, all carved into the cliffs and elaborately designed. The sculptor, free from construction constraints, realized his vision much like a set designer creates a theatrical backdrop.

Aqueducts and Bridges.—Although at the present day aqueducts and bridges would be classed under the head of engineering works, those built by the Romans are so fine in their conception and design that they take their place as monuments. The Pont-du-Gard near Nimes, and the aqueducts of Segovia, Tarragona and Merida in Spain, and some of those in or near Rome, are of the simplest design, depending for their effect on their magnificent construction, their dimensions both in length and height, and the scale given in the ranges of arches one above the other. Few of the Roman bridges have lasted to our day; the bridges of Augustus at Rimini and of Alcantara in Spain may be taken as types of the design, in which we note that there are no architectural superfluities; the quality of the design depends on the graceful proportion of the arches and the fine masonry in which they are built.

Aqueducts and Bridges.—Even though today we would categorize aqueducts and bridges as engineering works, those built by the Romans are so well conceived and designed that they stand as monuments. The Pont-du-Gard near Nimes, along with the aqueducts of Segovia, Tarragona, and Merida in Spain, as well as some in or near Rome, feature a simple design that relies on their stunning construction, length, height, and the impressive scale of the stacked arches. Few Roman bridges have survived to this day; the bridges of Augustus in Rimini and Alcantara in Spain serve as examples of the design, which shows no unnecessary architectural elements; the quality of the design rests on the elegant proportions of the arches and the beautiful masonry used in their construction.

Palatial Architecture.—By far the most magnificent group of palaces are those which were erected by the Caesars on the Palatine hill at Rome. Commenced by Augustus and added to by his successors down to the reign of Severus, they cover an area considerably over 1,000,000 sq. ft., and comprise an immense series of great halls, throne room, banqueting hall, basilicas, peristylar courts, temple, libraries, schools, barracks, a stadium and separate suites for princes and courtiers. The service of the palace would seem to have been carried on in vaulted corridors in several storeys, some of which on the north side, overlooking the Circus Maximus, must have been over 100 ft. in height. Except under the Villa Mills, the greater part of the plan has been traced; and large remains of mosaic pavements have been found in situ, and in the approaches, vaulted halls, some still retaining their stucco decoration.

Palatial Architecture.—The most impressive group of palaces was built by the Caesars on the Palatine Hill in Rome. Started by Augustus and expanded by his successors until the reign of Severus, they cover an area of over 1,000,000 sq. ft. and include a vast series of grand halls, throne rooms, banquet halls, basilicas, peristylar courts, temples, libraries, schools, barracks, a stadium, and separate suites for princes and courtiers. The palace operations seemed to have taken place in vaulted corridors across several levels, some on the north side overlooking the Circus Maximus, which must have reached heights of over 100 ft. Most of the layout has been mapped out, except under the Villa Mills, and large remnants of mosaic floors have been discovered in situ, along with vaulted halls, some still featuring their stucco decorations.

A similar variety of groups of every description of structure is found at Tivoli, but spread over a very much larger area. The villa of Hadrian extended over 7 m.; the works there were probably begun about A.D. 123, the first portion being his own residential palace. In addition to the numerous halls, courts, libraries, &c., Hadrian attempted to reproduce some of the most remarkable monuments which he had seen during his long travels; the Stadium, Palaestra, Odeum, the two theatres, the artificial lake, Canopus and other features were, however, constructed in the Roman style. Built on a ridge between two valleys, the several buildings occupied various levels, so that immense terraces and flights of stairs existed throughout the site and, combined with the natural scenery, must have been of extraordinary beauty.

A similar variety of groups of all types of structures is found at Tivoli, but spread over a much larger area. The Villa of Hadrian covered 7 miles; construction likely started around A.D. 123, with the first part being his own residential palace. Besides the numerous halls, courts, libraries, etc., Hadrian tried to recreate some of the most remarkable monuments he had seen during his extensive travels; the Stadium, Palaestra, Odeum, the two theaters, the artificial lake, Canopus, and other features were, however, built in the Roman style. Situated on a ridge between two valleys, the various buildings occupied different levels, creating large terraces and staircases throughout the site, which, combined with the natural scenery, must have been extraordinarily beautiful.

The palace of Diocletian at Spalato, to which he retired after his abdication, constituted a fortress, three of its walls being protected by towers, the fourth on the south by the sea. For an account of its well-preserved remains see Spalato. The emperor’s own residence was on the south side, and had a gallery 520 ft. long overlooking the sea. The two main streets, with arcades on each side and crossing one another, divided the whole palace into four sections. One of these streets crossed from gate to gate, the other from the north gate led to the entrance into the palace of the emperor.

The palace of Diocletian in Split, where he retired after stepping down, was like a fortress, with three of its walls featuring towers and the fourth one by the sea on the south. For more details on its well-preserved remains, see Spalato. The emperor’s private quarters were on the south side, complete with a 520 ft. long gallery that overlooked the sea. The two main streets, lined with arcades on each side and crossing each other, divided the palace into four sections. One of these streets ran from gate to gate, while the other led from the north gate to the entrance of the emperor’s palace.

Private Houses.-The entire absence of the remains of the private houses of Rome, with the single exception of the house of Livia on the Palatine, would have left us with a very poor insight into their design were it not for the discovery of Pompeii (q.v.) and Herculaneum (q.v.). The descriptions given by Pliny of the lavish extravagance in the Roman houses, and the employment of various Greek marbles in the shape of monolith columns and panelling of walls, are substantiated by those which are found in the Pantheon, in the palaces on the Palatine, and in Hadrian’s villa at Tivoli; and these compared with what is found at Pompeii show that the latter was only a provincial town of second or third-rate importance, where painted imitations took the place of real marbles, and where the wall paintings were very inferior to those which have been discovered in Rome.

Private Houses.-The total lack of remains from private houses in Rome, except for Livia's house on the Palatine, would have made it hard to understand their design if it weren’t for the discovery of Pompeii (q.v.) and Herculaneum (q.v.). Pliny's descriptions of the luxurious excesses in Roman homes, along with the use of various Greek marbles in the form of monolithic columns and wall paneling, are supported by the examples found in the Pantheon, the palaces on the Palatine, and Hadrian's villa at Tivoli. When comparing these to what is found in Pompeii, it becomes clear that Pompeii was just a provincial town of second or third-rate significance, where painted imitations replaced real marbles, and the wall paintings were much inferior to those discovered in Rome.

(R. P. S.)

Byzantine Architecture

Byzantine Architecture

The term “Byzantine” is applied to the style of architecture which was developed in Byzantium after Constantine had transferred the capital of the Roman empire to that city in A.D. 324.

The term “Byzantine” refers to the architectural style that emerged in Byzantium after Constantine moved the capital of the Roman Empire to that city in CE 324.

It is not possible, in the early ages of any style which is based on preceding or contemporaneous styles, to draw any hard and fast line of demarcation; and already before the Peace of the Church, a gradual transformation in the Roman style had been taking place, even in Rome itself. Thus the arch had gradually been taking the place of the lintel, either frankly as a relieving arch above it (portico of Pantheon), or introduced in the frieze just above the architrave (San Lorenzo), or by the conversion of the architrave into a flat arch by dividing it into voussoirs, as in the Forum Julium at Rome or in the temple of Jupiter at Baalbek. In the palace built by Diocletian at Spalato, the architrave or lintel of the Golden Gate is built with several voussoirs, and the pressure is further relieved by an arch thrown across above it. Long before this, however, and already in the 2nd century A.D. in Syria, this relieving arch had been moulded and decorated, with the result of emphasizing it as a new architectural feature. In this same palace at Spalato, in order to obtain a wider opening in the centre of the portico, leading to the throne room, it was spanned by an arch, round which were carried the 386 mouldings of the whole entablature, viz. architrave, frieze and cornice. At a still earlier date in Syria the same had been done in the Propylaea of the temple at Damascus (A.D. 151) and other examples are found in North Africa.

It’s impossible, in the early stages of any style that builds on earlier or contemporary styles, to clearly separate them. Even before the Peace of the Church, a gradual shift in the Roman style was already happening, even in Rome itself. The arch was slowly replacing the lintel, either clearly as a relieving arch above it (like in the portico of the Pantheon), or incorporated into the frieze just above the architrave (as seen in San Lorenzo), or by turning the architrave into a flat arch by dividing it into voussoirs, like in the Forum Julium in Rome or in the temple of Jupiter at Baalbek. In the palace built by Diocletian at Spalato, the architrave or lintel of the Golden Gate is constructed with several voussoirs, and the pressure is further relieved by an arch placed above it. Long before this, in the 2nd century A.D. in Syria, this relieving arch had already been shaped and decorated, making it a new architectural feature. In the same palace at Spalato, to create a wider opening at the center of the portico leading to the throne room, an arch was built, around which the mouldings of the entire entablature—architrave, frieze, and cornice—were carried. Even earlier in Syria, this was done in the Propylaea of the temple at Damascus (A.D. 151), and similar examples can be found in North Africa.

Now when Constantine transferred the capital to Byzantium, he is said to have imported immense quantities of monolith columns from Rome, and also workmen to carry out the embellishments of the new capital; for his work there was not confined to churches, but included amphitheatres, palaces, thermae and other public buildings. Owing to the haste with which these were built, and in some cases probably to the ephemeral materials employed, for the roofs of the churches were only in timber, all these early works have been swept away; but there remain two structures at least, which are said to date from Constantine’s time, viz. the Binbirderek or cistern of a thousand columns, and the Yeri-Batan-Serai, both in Constantinople. As one of the first tasks a Roman emperor set himself to perform was the provision of an ample supply of water, of which Byzantium was much in need, there is every reason to suppose that they are correctly attributed to Constantine’s time. If so, as the construction of their vaults is quite different from that employed by the Romans, it suggests that there already existed in the East a traditional method of building vaults of which the emperor availed himself; and, although it is not possible to trace all the earlier developments, the traditional art of the East, found throughout Syria and Asia Minor, must from the first have wrought great changes in the architectural style, and in some measure this would account for the comparatively short period of two centuries which elapsed between the foundation of the new empire and the culminating period of the style under Justinian in AD. 532-558.

Now, when Constantine moved the capital to Byzantium, he reportedly brought in huge amounts of monolith columns from Rome, along with workers to help decorate the new capital. His projects weren't just limited to churches; they also included amphitheaters, palaces, baths, and other public buildings. Because these structures were built quickly, and in some cases likely used temporary materials—like wooden roofs on the churches—most of these early works have been lost. However, at least two structures are believed to date back to Constantine’s era: the Binbirderek or the cistern of a thousand columns, and the Yeri-Batan-Serai, both located in Constantinople. Since one of the first things a Roman emperor aimed to do was ensure a good water supply, which Byzantium desperately needed, it's reasonable to think these structures were indeed built during Constantine’s time. If that’s the case, the way their vaults were constructed differs from Roman practices, suggesting that there was already a traditional Eastern method of vault building that the emperor utilized. Although it's tough to trace all the earlier developments, the traditional Eastern architecture found in Syria and Asia Minor must have significantly influenced architectural styles from the very beginning. This could help explain the relatively short period of just two centuries between the establishment of the new empire and the peak of the style under Justinian from AD 532 to 558.

Constantine is said to have built three churches in Palestine, but these have either disappeared or have been reconstructed since; an early basilican church is that of St John Studius (the Baptist) in Constantinople, dating from A.D. 463, and though it shows but little deviation from classic examples, in the design and vigorous execution of the carving in the capitals and the entablature we find the germ of the new style. The next typical example is that found in the church of St Demetrius at Salonica, a basilican church with atrium in front, a narthex, nave and double aisles, with capacious galleries on the first floor for women, and an apsidal termination to the nave. Instead of the classic entablature, the monolithic columns of the nave carry arches both on the ground and upper storeys; above the capitals, however, we find a new feature known as the dosseret, already employed in the two cisterns referred to, a cubical block projecting beyond the capital on each side and enabling it to carry a thicker wall above. In later examples, when the aisles were vaulted, the dosseret served a still more important purpose, in carrying the springing of the vaults. The nave and aisles of this church of St Demetrius were covered with timber roofs, as the architects had neither the knowledge, the skill, nor perhaps the materials to build vaults, so as to render the whole church indestructible by fire.

Constantine is said to have built three churches in Palestine, but these have either vanished or been rebuilt since. An early basilica is the church of St. John Studius (the Baptist) in Constantinople, dating from CE 463. While it shows little departure from classic designs, the bold execution of the carving in the capitals and the entablature hints at the beginning of a new style. The next typical example is found in the church of St. Demetrius at Salonica, which is a basilica with an atrium in front, a narthex, a nave, and double aisles, plus spacious galleries on the first floor for women, and an apsidal end to the nave. Instead of the classic entablature, the nave's monolithic columns support arches on both the ground and upper levels; above the capitals, we see a new feature known as the dosseret, a cubical block that extends beyond the capital on each side, allowing it to support a thicker wall above. In later examples, when the aisles were vaulted, the dosseret played an even more crucial role in supporting the beginning of the vaults. The nave and aisles of the St. Demetrius church were covered with wooden roofs because the architects lacked the knowledge, skill, or perhaps the materials to build vaults, making the church vulnerable to fire.

Fig. 27.—Plan of SS. Sergius and Bacchus.

One of the first attempts at this (though the early date given is disputed) would seem to have been made at Hierapolis, on the borders of Phrygia in Asia Minor, where there are two churches covered with barrel vaults carried on transverse ribs across the nave, the thrust of which was met by carrying up solid walls on each side, these walls being pierced with openings so as to form aisles on the ground floor and galleries above. The same system was carried out a century earlier in central Syria, where, in consequence of the absence of timber, the buildings had to be roofed with slabs of stone carried on arches across the nave. It is probable that in course of time other examples will be found in Asia Minor, giving a more definite clue to the next development, which we find in the work of Justinian, who would seem to have recognized that the employment of timber or combustible materials was fatal to the long duration of such buildings. Accordingly in the first church which he built (fig. 27), that of SS. Sergius and Bacchus (A.D. 527), the whole building is vaulted; the church is about 100 ft. square, with a narthex on one side. The central portion of the church is octagonal (52 ft. wide), and is covered by a dome, carried on arches across the eight sides, which are filled in with columns on two storeys. These are recessed on the diagonal lines, forming apses. The vault is divided into thirty-two zones, the zones being alternately flat and concave.

One of the first attempts at this (though the early date given is disputed) seems to have been made at Hierapolis, on the borders of Phrygia in Asia Minor, where there are two churches with barrel vaults supported by transverse ribs across the nave. The thrust of these vaults was countered by solid walls built on both sides, with openings to create aisles on the ground floor and galleries above. A similar design was implemented a century earlier in central Syria, where the lack of timber required that buildings be roofed with stone slabs supported by arches spanning the nave. It's likely that over time, more examples will be found in Asia Minor, providing a clearer indication of the next phase of development, which is reflected in Justinian's work. He appeared to recognize that using timber or combustible materials would be detrimental to the longevity of such structures. As a result, in the first church he built (fig. 27), that of SS. Sergius and Bacchus (A.D. 527), the entire building was vaulted; the church measures about 100 ft. square, with a narthex on one side. The central part of the church is octagonal (52 ft. wide) and is topped by a dome supported by arches spanning the eight sides, which are filled with columns on two levels. These columns are set back along the diagonal lines, forming apses. The vault is divided into thirty-two sections, alternating between flat and concave.

We now pass to Justinian’s greatest work, the church of St Sophia (fig. 28), begun in 532 and dedicated in 537, which marks the highest development of the Byzantine style and became the model on which all Greek churches, and even the mosques built by the Mahommedans in Constantinople, from the 15th century onwards, were based. The architects employed were Anthemius of Tralles and Isidorus of Miletus, and the problem they had to solve was that of carrying a dome 107 ft. in diameter on four arches. The four arches formed a square on plan, and between them were built spherical pendentives, which, overhanging the angles, reduced the centre to a circle on which the dome was built. This dome fell down in 555, and when rebuilt was raised higher and pierced round its lower part with forty circular-headed windows, which give an extraordinary lightness to the structure. At the east and west ends are immense apses, the full width of the dome, which are again subdivided into three smaller apses. The north and south arches are filled with lofty columns carrying arches opening into the aisle on the ground storey and a gallery on the upper storey, the walls above being pierced with windows of immense size. The church was built in brick, and internally the walls were encased with thin slabs of precious marble up to a great height (fig. 29). The walls and vault above were covered with mosaics on a gold ground, which, as they represented Christian subjects, were all covered over with stucco by the Turks after the taking of Constantinople. During the restoration in the middle of the 19th century, when it became necessary to strip off the stucco, these mosaics were all drawn and published by Salzenburg, and they were covered again with plaster to prevent their destruction by the Turks. The columns of the whole church on the ground floor are of porphyry, and on the upper storey of verd antique. The length of the church from entrance door to eastern apse is 260 ft.; in width, including the aisles, it measures 238 ft., and it measures 175 ft. to the apex of the dome. The columns and arches give scale to the small apses, the small apses to the larger ones, and the latter to the dome, so that its immense size is grasped from the first. The lighting is admirably distributed, and the rich decoration of the marble slabs, the monolith columns, the elaborate carving of the capitals, the beautiful marble inlays of the spandrils above the arches, and the glimpse here and there of some of the mosaic, which shows through the stucco, give to this church an effect which is unparalleled by any other interior in the world. The narthex or entrance vestibule forms a magnificent hall 240 ft. in length, equally richly decorated. Externally the building has little pretensions to architectural beauty, but its dimensions and varied outline, with the groups of smaller and larger apses and domes, make it an impressive structure, to which the Turkish minarets, though ungainly, add picturesqueness.

We now turn to Justinian’s most impressive achievement, the church of St. Sophia (fig. 28), which started construction in 532 and was dedicated in 537. This masterpiece represents the pinnacle of Byzantine architecture and became the template for all Greek churches, as well as for mosques built by Muslims in Constantinople from the 15th century onward. The architects were Anthemius of Tralles and Isidorus of Miletus, and their challenge was to support a dome with a diameter of 107 ft. on four arches. These four arches formed a square, with spherical pendentives built between them, which sloped down to form a circle at the center for the dome. The original dome collapsed in 555, but when it was rebuilt, it was raised higher and fitted with forty circular-headed windows around the lower part, giving the entire structure an incredible sense of lightness. At both the east and west ends, massive apses span the full width of the dome, each divided into three smaller apses. The north and south arches are adorned with tall columns that support arches opening into the aisle on the ground level and a gallery above, while the upper walls are punctuated with huge windows. The church was constructed from brick, with the interior walls covered in thin slabs of precious marble extending to a significant height (fig. 29). The walls and vault above were decorated with mosaics on a golden background, depicting Christian themes, all of which were covered with stucco by the Turks after they captured Constantinople. During restoration in the mid-19th century, when it became necessary to remove the stucco, these mosaics were documented and published by Salzenburg, and they were once again covered with plaster to protect them from destruction by the Turks. The columns throughout the ground floor are made of porphyry, while those on the upper level are of verd antique. The church measures 260 ft. in length from the entrance to the eastern apse, 238 ft. in width, including the aisles, and 175 ft. to the top of the dome. The proportion of the columns and arches gives dimension to the small apses, the small apses to the larger ones, and the larger ones to the dome, making its immense size apparent from the start. The lighting is wonderfully arranged, and the rich decoration of the marble slabs, monolithic columns, intricate capital carvings, stunning marble inlays above the arches, and glimpses of mosaic peeking through the stucco create an interior experience unmatched anywhere else in the world. The narthex, or entrance hall, is a grand space measuring 240 ft. in length and richly adorned as well. Externally, the building lacks claims to architectural beauty, but its grand dimensions and varied profile, with groups of smaller and larger apses and domes, create an impressive structure, further enhanced by the Turkish minarets that, though clumsy, add a picturesque quality.

Fig. 28.—Plan of St Sophia.

In A.D. 536 a second important church was begun by Theodora, the church of the Holy Apostles, which was destroyed in 1454 by order of Mahommed II. to build his mosque. The design of this church is known only from the clear description given by Procopius, 387 the historian who has transmitted to us the record of Justinian’s work, and its chief interest to us now is that it forms the model on which the church of St Mark at Venice was based, when it was restored, added to, and almost rebuilt about 1063.

In CE 536, Theodora started construction on a second major church, the church of the Holy Apostles, which was destroyed in 1454 by order of Mahommed II to make way for his mosque. The design of this church is only known from Procopius's detailed description, 387 the historian who documented Justinian's projects. Its main significance for us today is that it served as the model for the church of St. Mark in Venice when it was restored, expanded, and nearly rebuilt around 1063.

The church of St Sophia was not only the finest of its kind at the time of its erection, but no building approaching it has ever been built since in the Byzantine style, nor does much seem to have been done for two or three centuries afterwards. At the same time the erection of new churches must have been going on, because there are certain changes in design, the results probably of many trials. The difficulty of obtaining sufficient light in domes of small diameter led to the windows being placed in vertical drums, of which the earliest example is that of the western dome of St Irene at Constantinople, rebuilt A.D. 718-740. This simplified the construction and externally added to the effect of the church. The greatest change, however, which took place, arose in consequence of the comparatively small dimensions given to the central dome, which rendered it necessary to provide more space in another way, by increasing the area on each side, so that the plan developed into what is known as the Greek cross, in which the four arms are almost equal in dimensions to the central dome, and were covered with barrel vaults which amply resisted its thrust. In front of the church a narthex and sometimes an exonarthex was added, which was of greater width than the church itself, as in the churches (both in Constantinople) of the Theotokos and of Chora (A.D. 1080). The latter, better known as the “mosaic mosque,” on account of its splendid decoration in that material, is of special interest, because in the five arches of its façade we find the same design as that which originally constituted the front of the lower part of St Mark’s at Venice, before it was encrusted with the marble casing and the plethora of marble columns and capitals brought over from Constantinople.

The church of St. Sophia was not only the best of its kind when it was built, but no other building in the Byzantine style has come close to it since, and not much notable has been done in that style for two or three centuries afterwards. However, new churches must have been constructed during this time, as seen in certain design changes that likely resulted from numerous experiments. The challenge of getting enough light into domes with small diameters led to placing windows in vertical drums, the earliest example being the western dome of St. Irene in Constantinople, rebuilt A.D. 718-740. This made construction simpler and enhanced the church's external appearance. The most significant change, however, was due to the relatively small size of the central dome, which required more space to be created in another way by increasing the area on each side. This evolution resulted in what is known as the Greek cross, where the four arms are nearly equal in size to the central dome and are covered with barrel vaults that effectively countered its thrust. In front of the church, a narthex and sometimes an exonarthex were added, which were wider than the church itself, similar to the churches of Theotokos and Chora (A.D. 1080) in Constantinople. The latter, known as the “mosaic mosque” because of its stunning decoration, is particularly interesting because the five arches of its façade feature the same design that originally made up the front of the lower section of St. Mark’s in Venice, before it was covered in marble casing and adorned with numerous marble columns and capitals brought from Constantinople.

Fig. 29.—Cross section of the interior of St Sophia.

Sometimes an additional church was built adjoining the first church and dedicated to the immaculate Virgin, as in the church of St Mary Panachrantos, Constantinople, the church of St Luke of Stiris, Phocis, and the church in the island of Paros. In the last-named church the apse still retains its marble seats, rising one above the other, with the bishop’s throne in the centre. In addition to the churches already mentioned in Constantinople, there are still some which have been appropriated by the Turks and utilized as mosques. At Mount Athos there are a large number of Greek churches, ranging from the 10th to the 16th centuries, which are attached to the monasteries. At Athens one of the most beautiful examples is preserved in the Catholicon or cathedral, the materials of which were taken from older classical buildings. This cathedral measures only 40 ft. by 25 ft., and is now overpowered by the new cathedral erected close by.

Sometimes an extra church was built next to the first church and dedicated to the Virgin Mary, like in the church of St Mary Panachrantos in Constantinople, the church of St Luke of Stiris in Phocis, and the church on the island of Paros. In the Paros church, the apse still has its marble seats, stacked one above the other, with the bishop’s throne in the center. Besides the churches already mentioned in Constantinople, there are still some that have been taken over by the Turks and used as mosques. At Mount Athos, there are many Greek churches ranging from the 10th to the 16th centuries associated with the monasteries. In Athens, one of the most beautiful examples is preserved in the Catholicon, or cathedral, which was built using materials from older classical buildings. This cathedral is only 40 ft. by 25 ft. and is now overshadowed by the new cathedral built nearby.

The external design of the Byzantine churches, as a rule, is extremely simple, but it owes its quality to the fact that its features are those which arise out of the natural construction of the church. The domes, the semi-domes over the apses, and the barrel vaults over other parts of the church, appear externally as well as internally, and as they are all covered with lead or with tiles, laid direct on the vaults, they give character to the design and an extremely picturesque effect. The same principle is observed in the doorways and windows, to which importance is given by accentuating their constructive features. The arches, always in brick, are of two orders or rings of arches set one behind the other, and the voussoirs, alternately in brick and stone, have the most pleasing effect. The same simple treatment is given to the walls by the horizontal courses of bricks or tiles, alternating with the stone courses. In the apse of the church of the Apostles at Salonica, variety is given by the interlacing of brick patterns. This elaboration of the surface decoration is carried still further in the palace of Hebdomon at Blachernae, in Constantinople, built by Constantine Porphyrogenitus (913-949), where the spandrils of the arches are inlaid with a mosaic of bricks in various colours arranged in various patterns.

The exterior design of Byzantine churches is generally quite simple, but it gains its quality from features that arise from the church's natural construction. The domes, semi-domes over the apses, and barrel vaults are visible both outside and inside the church. Since they are covered with lead or tiles directly laid on the vaults, they contribute to the design's character and create a striking visual effect. This principle also applies to the doorways and windows, where their architectural features are emphasized. The arches, made of brick, are structured with two layers or rings of arches positioned behind each other, and the alternation of brick and stone in the voussoirs adds a pleasing aesthetic. The same straightforward approach is used for the walls, with horizontal layers of bricks or tiles alternating with stone courses. In the apse of the Church of the Apostles in Salonica, a variety of brick patterns intertwine for added interest. This surface decoration is taken even further in the palace of Hebdomon at Blachernae in Constantinople, built by Constantine Porphyrogenitus (913-949), where the spandrels of the arches are adorned with a mosaic of bricks in different colors arranged in various patterns.

There would seem to have been a revival in the 11th century, possibly a reflex of that which was taking place in Europe, and it is to this period we owe the churches of St Luke in Phocis, the church at Daphne, and the churches of St Nicodemus and St Theodore in Athens. The finest example of brick patterns is that which is found in the church of St Luke of Stiris, attached to the monastery in the province of Phocis, north of the Gulf of Corinth, of which an admirable monograph was published in 1901 by the committee of the British School at Athens, illustrated by measured drawings of the plans, elevations, sections and mosaics by Messrs Schultz and Barnsley, with a detailed description. The church of St Luke of Stiris is one of those already referred to, where a second church dedicated to the Holy Virgin has been added, but in this case, according to Messrs Schultz and Barnsley, on the site of a more ancient church of which the narthex alone was retained. The plan of the great church differs from the ordinary Greek cross in that the arms of the cross are of much less width than the central domed square, and arches being thrown across the angles carry eight pendentives instead of four. On the east side the Diaconicon and Prothesis are included in the width of the domed portion instead of forming the eastern termination of the aisles. The churches at Daphne in Attica and of St Nicodemus at Athens have a similar plan.

There seems to have been a revival in the 11th century, possibly reflecting what was happening in Europe, and it's during this time that we owe the churches of St. Luke in Phocis, the church at Daphne, and the churches of St. Nicodemus and St. Theodore in Athens. The best example of brick patterns can be found in the church of St. Luke of Stiris, which is part of the monastery in the province of Phocis, north of the Gulf of Corinth. An excellent monograph about it was published in 1901 by the committee of the British School at Athens, featuring detailed drawings of the plans, elevations, sections, and mosaics by Messrs. Schultz and Barnsley, along with a thorough description. The church of St. Luke of Stiris is one of the previously mentioned ones, where a second church dedicated to the Holy Virgin has been added, but in this case, according to Messrs. Schultz and Barnsley, it was built on the site of a more ancient church, of which only the narthex was kept. The design of the main church differs from the typical Greek cross, as the arms of the cross are much narrower than the central domed square, with arches crossing the angles that support eight pendentives instead of four. On the east side, the Diaconicon and Prothesis are included within the space of the domed area rather than forming the eastern end of the aisles. The churches at Daphne in Attica and St. Nicodemus in Athens share a similar layout.

The decoration of the smaller church of St Luke of Stiris is of the most elaborate character, bright patterns of infinite variety alternating with the brick courses, and as blocks of marble, removed from the site of the old city near, were available, they have been utilized in various parts of the structure and richly carved. The church at Mistra in the Peloponnesus, 13th century, built in the side of a hill, is one of the most picturesque examples, and is almost the only example in which a tower is to be found.

The decoration of the smaller church of St. Luke of Stiris is very elaborate, featuring bright patterns of endless variety alternating with the brick layers. Since blocks of marble from the nearby old city were available, they were used in various parts of the building and intricately carved. The church at Mistra in the Peloponnesus, built in the 13th century on the side of a hill, is one of the most picturesque examples and is nearly the only instance where a tower can be found.

Armenia.—One other phase of the Byzantine style has still to be mentioned, the development of church architecture in Armenia, which follows very much on the same lines as that of the Greek church, with a central dome on the crossing, a narthex at the west end and a triapsal east end. In two churches at Echmiadzin and Kutais there are transeptal apses in addition to those at the east end. One of the differences to be noted is that the domes and roofs are generally in stone externally, and this has led to another change; the domes, though hemispherical inside, have conical roofs over them. There is also a greater admixture of styles, the Persian, Byzantine and Romanesque phases entering into the design; the last was probably derived from the churches of central Syria, as the Armenians were the only race who seem to have penetrated there, and the finest example, at Kalat Seman, was at one time in their possession. The church at Dighur near Ani, of the 7th century, also probably owes its classical details to the work in central Syria. The most important example of the Armenian style is found in the cathedral at Ani, the capital of Armenia, dating from A.D. 1010. In this church pointed arches and coupled piers are found, with all the characteristics of a complete pointed-arch style, which, as Fergusson remarks, “might be found in Italy or Sicily in the 12th or 14th century.” Externally the walls are decorated with lofty blind arcades similar to those in the cathedral at Pisa and other churches in the same town, which are probably fifty years later. The elaborate fret carving of the window dressings and hood moulds are probably borrowed from the tile decoration found in Persia.

Armenia.—Another aspect of the Byzantine style worth mentioning is the development of church architecture in Armenia, which closely follows the Greek church's design. It typically features a central dome at the crossing, a narthex at the west end, and a triapsal east end. In the churches at Echmiadzin and Kutais, there are additional transeptal apses alongside those at the east end. One notable difference is that the domes and roofs are usually made of stone on the outside, leading to another distinction: the domes, although hemispherical inside, have conical roofs on top of them. There's also a greater mix of styles present, including Persian, Byzantine, and Romanesque influences in the design. The Romanesque aspect likely came from the churches of central Syria, as the Armenians were the only group to have ventured there, and the best example, found at Kalat Seman, was once under their control. The church at Dighur near Ani, built in the 7th century, also likely owes its classical details to the influences from central Syria. The most significant example of Armenian style is the cathedral at Ani, the capital of Armenia, dating back to CE 1010. In this church, pointed arches and paired piers are present, showcasing all the hallmarks of a complete pointed-arch style that, as Fergusson notes, “could be found in Italy or Sicily in the 12th or 14th century.” Externally, the walls are adorned with tall blind arcades similar to those in the cathedral at Pisa and other churches in that city, which were probably built about fifty years later. The intricate fret carving of the window dressings and hood molds likely draws inspiration from the tile decorations found in Persia.

Russia.—The architecture of Russia is only a somewhat degraded version of the style of the Byzantine empire. The earliest buildings of importance are the cathedrals of Kiev and Novgorod, 1019-1054. The original church of Kiev consisted of nave, with triple aisles each side, the piers in which are of enormous size, a transept and square bays of the choir beyond, each with deep apsidal chapels. Externally the chief features are the bulbous domes adopted from the Tatars, which sometimes assume great dimensions. Internally, the chief feature is the Iconostasis, which corresponds to the English rood screen, except that in Russia it forms a complete separation between the church and the sanctuary with its altar.

Russia.—The architecture of Russia is a somewhat diminished version of the style from the Byzantine Empire. The earliest significant buildings are the cathedrals of Kiev and Novgorod, from 1019 to 1054. The original church in Kiev had a nave with triple aisles on each side, supported by massive piers, along with a transept and square bays for the choir beyond, each featuring deep apsidal chapels. On the outside, the main characteristics are the bulbous domes taken from the Tatars, which can sometimes be quite large. Inside, the standout feature is the Iconostasis, which is similar to the English rood screen, but in Russia, it creates a complete separation between the church and the sanctuary with its altar.

One of the most remarkable churches is that of St Basil at Moscow (1534-1584), which in plan looks like a central hall, surrounded by eight other halls of smaller dimensions, all separated one from the 388 other by vaulted corridors; this arrangement is not intelligible until one sees the exterior view, which accounts for the plan; each one of these halls is crowned by lofty towers with bulbous domes, the centre one rising above all the others and terminated with an octagonal roof, probably derived from the Armenian conical roof. The oldest and most interesting church in Moscow is the church of the Assumption (1479), where the tsars are always crowned; but as it measures only 74 ft. by 50 ft., it is virtually little more than a chapel; the plan is that of a Greek cross with central dome and four others over the angles. One other church deserves mention—at Curtea de Argesh, in Rumania. It was built in 1517-1526, and though small (90 by 50 ft.), is built entirely of stone, instead of brick covered with stucco, as is the case with the churches in Moscow. The interior has been entirely sacrificed to the exterior, the domes being raised to an extravagant height. The relative proportion of width of nave to height of dome in St Sophia at Constantinople is about one to two; in the church at Curtea de Argesh it is about one to five; and yet there can be little doubt the design was made by one of those Armenian architects who seem to have been always employed at Constantinople, and who presumably based their designs there on St Sophia as regards its principal features. Here, however, he was working for Tatar employers who attached more importance to display than to good proportion. In general design the church is based on Armenian work. The elaborately carved panels and disks are copied from the inlays in the mosques in Damascus and of Sultan Hassan at Cairo, and the stalactite cornices and capitals of the columns are transcripts of the Mahommedan style of Constantinople, which was derived from the style developed by the Seljuks.

One of the most impressive churches is St. Basil’s in Moscow (1534-1584), which is designed like a central hall surrounded by eight smaller halls, all separated by vaulted corridors. This layout doesn’t make sense until you see the exterior, which explains the design; each of these halls is topped with tall towers featuring bulbous domes, with the center tower rising above the rest and capped with an octagonal roof, likely inspired by the Armenian cone-shaped roof. The oldest and most fascinating church in Moscow is the Church of the Assumption (1479), where the tsars are crowned; however, at just 74 ft. by 50 ft., it’s barely more than a chapel. Its layout is a Greek cross with a central dome and four others at the corners. Another noteworthy church is located at Curtea de Argesh in Romania. Built between 1517 and 1526, it’s small (90 by 50 ft.), but made entirely of stone instead of brick covered with stucco like the churches in Moscow. The interior is fully sacrificed for the exterior, with the domes reaching an extravagant height. The width of the nave to the height of the dome in St. Sophia in Constantinople is about one to two; in the Curtea de Argesh church, it’s about one to five. Still, it’s clear that the design was created by one of those Armenian architects who were often employed in Constantinople and likely used St. Sophia as a model for the main features. Here, however, he worked for Tatar employers who valued showiness more than good proportions. Overall, the church's design is based on Armenian architecture. The intricately carved panels and disks are inspired by the inlays found in the mosques in Damascus and at Sultan Hassan in Cairo, and the stalactite cornices and column capitals reflect the Islamic style of Constantinople, which evolved from the style developed by the Seljuks.

We were only able to point to a single example of a tower in the Byzantine style, but in Russia the towers not only constitute the principal accessory to the church but were necessary adjuncts, in order to provide accommodation for bells, the casting of which has at all times formed one of the most important crafts in Russia. The chief examples, all in Moscow, are the tower attached to the church of the Assumption; the tower of Boris, inside the Kremlin; and that erected over the sacred gate of the same. But they abound throughout Russia and in some cases form important features in the principal elevations on either side of the narthex.

We could only point to one example of a tower in the Byzantine style, but in Russia, towers are not just a key addition to the church; they were essential for housing bells, which have always been a significant craft in Russia. The main examples, all in Moscow, include the tower connected to the Church of the Assumption, the Boris Tower inside the Kremlin, and the one built over the sacred gate. However, they can be found all over Russia and often play an important role in the main facades on either side of the narthex.

(R. P. S.)

Early Christian Architecture

Early Christian Architecture

Of the earliest examples of the housing of the Christian church few remains exist, owing partly to their destruction from time to time by imperial edicts, and partly to the fact that in most cases they were only oratories of a small and unpretending nature, which, immediately after the Peace of the Church, were rebuilt of greater size and with increased magnificence. In Rome itself, the principal religious centre was that which was found in the catacombs (q.v.), almost the only resort in times of persecution. In the houses of the wealthy Romans who had been converted, rooms were set apart for the reception of the faithful, and these may have been increased in size by the addition of side aisles. At all events, either in Rome or in the East, where greater freedom of worship was observed, the requirements of the religious had already resulted in a traditional type of plan, which may account for the similarity of all the great churches built by Constantine. It has often been assumed that the great Roman basilicas, if not actually utilized by the Christians, were copied so far as their design is concerned. This, however, is not borne out by the facts, there being very little similarity between the first churches built and the two great Roman basilicas, the Ulpian basilica and that built by Constantine; the latter was roofed with an immense vault, an imperishable covering, not attempted till two centuries later in Byzantium, and the former had its entrance in the centre of the longer side, and the tribunes at either end were divided off from the basilica by a double aisle of columns. The basilica plan was adopted because it was the simplest and most economical building of large size which could be erected, having an immense central area or nave well lighted by clerestory windows, and single or double aisles to divide the two sexes, and further because the immense supply of columns which could be taken from existing temples or porticoes enabled the architect to provide at small cost the colonnades or arcades between the nave and the aisles. On the other hand, there is no doubt that the temples, for which there was no further use, were largely appropriated, not only in Italy but in Greece, Sicily and elsewhere, and it is to this appropriation that we owe the preservation of the Parthenon, the Erechtheum and the temple of Theseus at Athens. There are some cases in which it is interesting to note the changes which were made to convert the temple into a church. In the temple of Athena at Syracuse, walls were built in between the columns of the peristyle, the cella was appropriated for the nave, and arcades were cut through the cella walls to communicate with the peristyle, so as to constitute the aisles. In the temple of Aphrodisias, in Asia Minor, a further development occurred. The walls of the cella were taken down, a wall was built outside the columns of the peristyle to form aisles, and the columns of the east and west end were taken down and placed in line with the others, in order to increase the length of the church.

Of the earliest examples of Christian church buildings, few remain due to their destruction over time from imperial decrees, and also because, in most cases, they were just small and unassuming chapels. After the Peace of the Church, these were rebuilt to be larger and more magnificent. In Rome, the main religious center was located in the catacombs (q.v.), which were the primary refuge during times of persecution. Wealthy Roman converts set aside rooms in their homes for the gathering of believers, and these spaces may have been expanded with side aisles. Regardless of whether in Rome or the East, where worship was more freely practiced, the needs of the faithful led to a standard layout which likely explains why all the grand churches built by Constantine are similar. It has often been thought that the large Roman basilicas served as models for Christians, at least in terms of design. However, this is not supported by evidence; there's very little resemblance between the first churches and the two major Roman basilicas, the Ulpian basilica and the one built by Constantine. The latter featured an enormous vaulted roof, an enduring covering not attempted until two centuries later in Byzantium, while the former had its entrance centered on the longer side, and the ends were separated from the basilica by a double row of columns. The basilica layout was chosen because it was the simplest and most cost-effective way to create a large space, including a vast central area or nave well lit by clerestory windows, with single or double aisles to separate the sexes. Additionally, the abundance of columns available from existing temples or porticoes allowed architects to construct colonnades or arcades between the nave and aisles at low cost. Moreover, there is little doubt that abandoned temples were widely repurposed, not just in Italy but also in Greece, Sicily, and beyond. This repurposing helped preserve the Parthenon, the Erechtheum, and the temple of Theseus in Athens. In some instances, it’s interesting to note how temples were altered to become churches. In the temple of Athena at Syracuse, walls were added between the columns of the peristyle, the cella was converted into the nave, and openings were made through the cella walls to connect with the peristyle, forming the aisles. At the temple of Aphrodisias in Asia Minor, a further transformation occurred: the walls of the cella were removed, a wall was built outside the columns of the peristyle to create aisles, and columns at both the east and west ends were taken down and aligned with the others to extend the length of the church.

The earliest Christian basilica built in Rome was the Lateran, which has, however, been so completely transformed in subsequent rebuildings as to have lost its original character. The next in date was that of the old St Peter’s, which was taken down in 1506, in consequence of its ruinous condition, in order to make way for the present cathedral, begun by Pope Julius II. It was of considerable size, covering an area of 73,000 ft. Its plan consisted of an atrium, or open court, having a fountain in the centre, and arcades round; a nave, 275 ft. long and 77 ft. wide, with double aisles on each side; a transept, 270 ft. long by 54 ft. wide; and a semi-circular apse or tribune with a radius of 27 ft.; the high altar being in the centre of its choir, and ranges of marble seats and the papal throne in the middle, corresponding to the benches and the judge’s seat of the Roman tribune. The nave, therefore, with its double aisles, was similar to that of the Ulpian basilica, but the aisles were not returned across the east end, and at the west end, in their place, was the great triumphal arch opening into the transept. The monolith columns of the nave and their capitals (together 40 ft. high) were all taken from ancient buildings, as also were those of the aisle arcades and in the atrium.

The earliest Christian basilica built in Rome was the Lateran, which, however, has been so thoroughly transformed in later renovations that it has lost its original character. The next one was the old St. Peter’s, which was torn down in 1506 due to its dilapidated state, making way for the current cathedral, initiated by Pope Julius II. It was quite large, covering an area of 73,000 square feet. Its design included an atrium, or open courtyard, with a fountain in the center and arcades all around; a nave that was 275 feet long and 77 feet wide, with double aisles on each side; a transept measuring 270 feet long by 54 feet wide; and a semi-circular apse or tribune with a radius of 27 feet. The high altar was situated in the center of its choir, with rows of marble seats and the papal throne in the middle, mirroring the benches and the judge’s seat of the Roman tribune. The nave, with its double aisles, was similar to that of the Ulpian basilica, but the aisles did not extend across the east end; instead, at the west end, there was a grand triumphal arch leading into the transept. The monolith columns of the nave and their capitals (which together stood 40 feet high) were all sourced from ancient buildings, as were those of the aisle arcades and the atrium.

The basilica of St Paul, outside the walls, was originally of comparatively small dimensions, with its apse at the west end; in A.D. 386 the church was rebuilt on a plan similar to St Peter’s, with nave and double aisles, divided by columns carrying arches, transept and apse. In the Lateran basilica, St Peter’s, Santa Maria Maggiore, and St Lawrence (outside the walls), the columns of the nave were close-set (i.e. with narrow intercolumniations) and supported architraves, but in St Paul (outside the walls) the columns of the second church (A.D. 386) were wider apart and carried arches. The same feature is found in the church of St Agnes, founded A.D. 324, but rebuilt 620-640; here the arcade is carried across the west end and there are galleries above, the arches being carried on dosseret blocks above the capitals; these are also found in the galleries over the western end of St Lawrence, added by Honorius (A.D. 620-640); the dosseret, a Byzantine feature, being derived either from Ravenna or from the East. In the church of Santa Maria-in-Cosmedin (A.D. 772-795) another Byzantine feature appears in the triple apse at the east end, the earliest example in Europe. In this church, as also in those of San Clemente and San Prassede, piers are built at intervals to carry the arcades separating the nave and aisles. Those in the latter, however, were probably added when the great arches were thrown across the nave. The church of San Clemente was built in 1108, above a much older church dating from 385 and restored later; it is almost the only church in Rome which has preserved its atrium intact; the internal arrangement of the church also is different from that found elsewhere, the choir, enclosed with marble piers and screens removed from the lower church and erected in front of the tribune, dating from A.D. 514-523. The mosaics executed in 1112 are in fine preservation.

The basilica of St Paul, outside the walls, was originally quite small, with its apse located at the west end. In CE 386, the church was rebuilt using a design similar to St Peter’s, featuring a nave and double aisles separated by columns with arches, along with a transept and apse. In the Lateran basilica, St Peter’s, Santa Maria Maggiore, and St Lawrence (outside the walls), the columns of the nave were closely spaced (i.e., with narrow gaps) and supported architraves. However, in St Paul (outside the walls), the columns of the second church (A.D. 386) were spaced wider apart and supported arches. A similar design is seen in the church of St Agnes, founded in CE 324, but rebuilt from 620-640; here, the arcade runs across the west end and there are galleries above, with arches resting on dosseret blocks above the capitals. These features are also present in the galleries over the western end of St Lawrence, which were added by Honorius (CE 620-640); the dosseret, a Byzantine feature, originates from either Ravenna or the East. In the church of Santa Maria-in-Cosmedin (A.D. 772-795), another Byzantine characteristic appears with the triple apse at the east end, the earliest example in Europe. In this church, as well as in San Clemente and San Prassede, piers are constructed at intervals to support the arcades separating the nave and aisles. However, those in the latter were probably added when the large arches were placed across the nave. The church of San Clemente was built in 1108, above a much older church dating back to 385 and restored later; it is almost the only church in Rome that has kept its atrium intact. The interior layout of the church is also different from that found elsewhere, with the choir enclosed by marble piers and screens taken from the lower church and set up in front of the tribune, dating from CE 514-523. The mosaics created in 1112 are well preserved.

Other early churches in Rome are those of Santa Pudenziana (335); San Pietro-in-Vincoli (442), with Doric columns in the nave; SS. Quattro Coronati (450); Santa Sabina (450), an interesting church on account of the marble inlaid decoration in the arch spandrils of the nave, which date from 824; San Prassede (817), with arches thrown across the nave later; San Vincenzo ed Anastasio alle Tre Fontane (626); and Santa Maria in Domnica, where there are galleries over the aisles and across the east end as in St Agnes.

Other early churches in Rome include Santa Pudenziana (335); San Pietro-in-Vincoli (442), featuring Doric columns in the nave; SS. Quattro Coronati (450); Santa Sabina (450), which is notable for its marble inlaid decoration in the arch spandrils of the nave dating from 824; San Prassede (817), with arches added later across the nave; San Vincenzo ed Anastasio alle Tre Fontane (626); and Santa Maria in Domnica, which has galleries over the aisles and across the east end, similar to St Agnes.

Hitherto we have said little about the architectural design, the fact being that externally these churches had the appearance of barns; it is only in a few cases, notably in St Peter’s, that the principal fronts were decorated with mosaics. The magnificent materials employed internally, the monolith marble columns, the enrichment of the apse and the triumphal arch with mosaics, and probably the painting and gilding of the ceiling or roof, gave to the early basilican churches in Rome that splendour which characterizes those in Byzantium and in Ravenna.

Until now, we haven't said much about the architectural design. The truth is, these churches looked like barns from the outside; only a few, like St. Peter's, had decorative mosaics on their main fronts. The lavish materials used inside—like the solid marble columns, the decorative mosaics in the apse and the triumphal arch, and possibly the paintings and gilding on the ceiling or roof—gave the early basilicas in Rome a splendor that is similar to those in Byzantium and Ravenna.

With the exception of the baptistery attached to St John Lateran, and the so-called tomb of Santa Constantia, both erected by Constantine, the circular form of church was not adopted in Rome; there is one remarkable circular building of great size, San Stefano Rotondo, at one time thought to have been a Roman market, but now known to have been erected by Pope Simplicius (468-482). It consisted of a central circular nave, 44 ft. in diameter, and double aisles round. In the arcade dividing the aisles the arches are carried on dosserets, the earliest known example of this feature in Rome.

With the exception of the baptistery connected to St. John Lateran and the so-called tomb of Santa Constantia, both built by Constantine, the circular style of church wasn’t used in Rome. There is one notable circular structure of significant size, San Stefano Rotondo, which was once thought to have been a Roman marketplace but is now recognized as having been built by Pope Simplicius (468-482). It had a central circular nave, 44 ft. in diameter, with double aisles around it. In the arcade separating the aisles, the arches rest on dosserets, marking the earliest known instance of this feature in Rome.

Although inferior in size, the two churches of S. Appollinare Nuovo, built by Theodoric (493-525) and Sant’ Apollinare-in-Classe (538-549), both in Ravenna, have the special advantage that they were constructed in new materials, there being no ancient Roman temples there to pull down. The ordinary basilican plan was adhered to, but as the architects and workmen came from Constantinople, they incorporated in the building various details of the Byzantine style, with which they were best acquainted. Thus the contour of the mouldings, the carrying of the capitals and imposts, the dosseret above the capital, and the scheme of decoration of the interior with marble casing on the lower portion of the walls and mosaic above, are all Byzantine. Externally the churches are extremely plain, the wall surfaces of the nave and aisle walls being varied by blind arcades.

Although smaller in size, the two churches of S. Appollinare Nuovo, built by Theodoric (493-525) and Sant’ Apollinare-in-Classe (538-549), both in Ravenna, have the unique advantage of being constructed using new materials, as there were no ancient Roman temples to tear down. They followed the typical basilica layout, but since the architects and workers came from Constantinople, they included various elements of the Byzantine style that they were most familiar with. This is evident in the shape of the moldings, the design of the capitals and imposts, the dosseret above the capital, and the interior decoration scheme featuring marble covering on the lower wall sections and mosaics above, all of which are Byzantine. On the outside, the churches are quite plain, with the walls of the nave and aisles featuring blind arcades for variation.

The earliest building in Ravenna is the tomb of Galla Placidia, built 450, a small cruciform structure with a dome on pendentives over the centre, perhaps the earliest example known. The baptistery of St John, which was attached to the cathedral built by Archbishop 389 Ursus (380), now destroyed, is a plain octagonal building, 40 ft. in diameter, originally with a timber roof; when in 451 it was determined to replace this by a vault, in order to resist the thrust, the upper part of the walls was brought forward on arches and corbels, and the interior richly decorated with paintings, stucco reliefs and mosaics in the dome. The most interesting building in Ravenna, however, from many points of view, is the church of San Vitale (fig. 30), built 539-547, its plan and design being based on the church of SS. Sergius and Bacchus at Constantinople. The proportions of the interior of St Sergius are much finer than those in San Vitale, where the dome is raised too high; the timber roofs also of San Vitale have deprived the church externally of that fine architectural effect found in Byzantine churches. In order to lighten the dome, its shell was built with hollow pots, the end of one fitted into the mouth of the other. The interior of the church is of great beauty, owing to the alternating of the piers carrying the eight arches with the columns set back in apsidal recesses. Unfortunately the church has been much restored, but the magnificent mosaics in the choir and the variety of design shown in the capitals and dosserets render this church, though small, one of the most attractive in Italy. One other Ravenna building must be mentioned, though it would be difficult to know under what style to class it. The tomb of Theodoric, having a decagonal plan in two storeys, the lower one vaulted at the upper storey, set back to allow of a “terrace” round, once sheltered by a small arcade, and covered by a single stone 35 ft. in diameter, belongs to no definite style; the mouldings of the upper portion have some resemblance to the mouldings of some of the Etruscan tombs at Castel d’Asso, which was probably known to Theodoric.

The earliest building in Ravenna is the tomb of Galla Placidia, built in 450. It's a small cross-shaped structure with a dome on pendentives at the center, possibly the earliest example known. The baptistery of St. John, which was part of the cathedral built by Archbishop Ursus (380) and is now destroyed, is a simple octagonal building, 40 ft. in diameter, originally topped with a wooden roof. In 451, it was decided to replace this with a vault to withstand the pressure, so the upper part of the walls was pushed forward on arches and corbels, and the interior was richly decorated with paintings, stucco reliefs, and mosaics in the dome. However, the most interesting building in Ravenna, from many perspectives, is the church of San Vitale (fig. 30), built from 539 to 547. Its layout and design are based on the church of SS. Sergius and Bacchus in Constantinople. The interior proportions of St. Sergius are much more elegant than those in San Vitale, where the dome is raised too high, and the wooden roofs of San Vitale have taken away that impressive architectural look found in Byzantine churches. To lessen the weight of the dome, its shell was constructed with hollow pots, with the end of one fitted into the next. The interior of the church is stunning, thanks to the alternating piers supporting the eight arches and the columns set back in apsidal recesses. Unfortunately, the church has been heavily restored, but the magnificent mosaics in the choir and the variety of designs seen in the capitals and dosserets make this church, though small, one of the most appealing in Italy. One other building in Ravenna should be mentioned, even though it’s hard to classify its style. The tomb of Theodoric has a decagonal layout in two stories; the lower one is vaulted with the upper story set back to create a “terrace” once sheltered by a small arcade, all covered by a single stone 35 ft. in diameter. It doesn't fit into any specific style, but the moldings of the upper portion resemble those of some Etruscan tombs at Castel d’Asso, which Theodoric probably knew about.

Fig. 30.—Plan of S. Vitale, Ravenna.

As Dalmatia and Istria both formed part of Theodoric’s kingdom, we find there the same Byzantine influence as that which was asserted in Ravenna, in both cases the work being done by artists and masons from Constantinople. There is not much left in Dalmatia, but in Istria are two important examples,—the churches at Parenzo (535-543) and Grado (571-586). Like the two churches in Ravenna, they are basilican in plan, with apses, semi-circular internally and polygonal externally, the latter being a characteristic found in all the churches in Europe which were influenced directly by Byzantine custom. Although the monolith columns were derived from ancient Roman buildings, all the capitals were specially carved for the two churches, and they have the same variety of design and in many cases are identical with those in San Vitale, Sant’ Apollinare Nuovo, Sant’ Apollinare-in-Classe, and those brought over from Constantinople, which now decorate St Mark’s at Venice internally as well as externally. The decoration of the lower part of the walls internally with marble slabs, and the upper portion and apsidal vaults with mosaic, follows on the same lines as those at Ravenna and Constantinople. The church at Parenzo still retains its baptistery and atrium, from which fragments of the mosaics which originally decorated the west front can be seen. The church at Aquileia was rebuilt in the 11th century, and the Duomo of Trieste has been so altered as to lose its original Byzantine character.

As Dalmatia and Istria were both part of Theodoric's kingdom, they share the same Byzantine influence seen in Ravenna, thanks to artists and builders from Constantinople. Not much remains in Dalmatia, but Istria has two significant examples—the churches at Parenzo (535-543) and Grado (571-586). Like the two churches in Ravenna, they have a basilica layout, featuring semi-circular apses on the inside and polygonal ones on the outside, a hallmark of all churches in Europe influenced directly by Byzantine styles. While the monolith columns come from ancient Roman structures, all the capitals were custom-carved for these churches and show a variety of designs, many of which are identical to those in San Vitale, Sant’ Apollinare Nuovo, Sant’ Apollinare-in-Classe, and those brought over from Constantinople, which now adorn both the interior and exterior of St. Mark's in Venice. The decoration of the lower walls with marble slabs and the upper sections and apsidal vaults with mosaics follows the same style as those in Ravenna and Constantinople. The church at Parenzo still has its baptistery and atrium, where fragments of the original mosaics that decorated the west front can still be seen. The church at Aquileia was rebuilt in the 11th century, and the Duomo of Trieste has been altered so much that it has lost its original Byzantine character.

(R. P. S.)

Early Christian Work in Central Syria

Early Christian Work in Central Syria

Contemporaneously with the early developments of the Christian churches just described, another line of treatment was being evolved in central Syria, which would seem to have been quite independent of the others, though at first sight it bears considerable resemblance to the Byzantine style, and for that reason was probably classed and described under that head by Fergusson. But the leading characteristic of the Byzantine style is the dome over the centre of the church round which all other features are grouped, whereas in central Syria, with the exception of two examples—one a circular, the other a polygonal church—there are no domes. There is considerable Greek feeling in the mouldings and carvings of the capitals, but that is probably due to the fact that the masons were originally of Greek extraction. A comparison, for instance, of the design and carving of the largest church in central Syria, the famous building erected round the column of St Simeon Stylites at Kalat-Seman, dating from the 6th century, with any Byzantine church of the same date, shows very little resemblance, because the former was inspired more or less directly by the Roman remains in the country. A similar inspiration is found in the churches of St Trophime at Arles and St Gilles in the south of France, and at Autun and Langres in Burgundy. Both were founded on Roman work, and the mouldings of the pediments and archivolts and the fluting of the pilasters at Kalat-Seman, of the 6th century, are identical with what is found, quite independently, in Provence and Burgundy in the 11th and 12th centuries. There is, however, another special characteristic found in the masonry of the churches in central Syria, which is peculiar to the whole of Palestine, and is found in the earliest remains there, as also in Roman work, and to a certain extent in much of the Mahommedan construction and in that of the Crusaders, viz. its megalithic qualities. Instead of building an arch in several voussoirs, they preferred to do it in three or five only, and sometimes would cut the whole arch out of a single vertical slab. If they employed voussoirs, they were not content with ordinary depth, shown by the archivolt mouldings, but made them three or four times as deep.

At the same time as the early developments of the Christian churches just mentioned, another approach was being developed in central Syria, which seems to have been quite independent from the others. While it initially appears similar to the Byzantine style, it was likely categorized as such by Fergusson for that reason. However, the main feature of Byzantine style is the dome over the center of the church, around which all other elements are arranged. In central Syria, except for two examples—one circular and the other polygonal—there are no domes. There is a noticeable Greek influence in the moldings and carvings of the capitals, likely because the masons were originally of Greek descent. For instance, comparing the design and carving of the largest church in central Syria, the famous structure built around the column of St. Simeon Stylites at Kalat-Seman, dating from the 6th century, with any Byzantine church of the same date shows very little resemblance, as the former drew more or less directly from the Roman remains in the area. A similar influence is seen in the churches of St. Trophime at Arles and St. Gilles in southern France, as well as in Autun and Langres in Burgundy. Both were based on Roman architecture, and the moldings of the pediments, archivolts, and the fluting of the pilasters at Kalat-Seman from the 6th century are identical to what is found, independently, in Provence and Burgundy in the 11th and 12th centuries. However, there is another distinct characteristic in the masonry of the churches in central Syria, which is unique to all of Palestine and appears in its earliest remains, as well as in Roman architecture, and to some extent in much of the Islamic construction and that of the Crusaders, namely its megalithic qualities. Instead of constructing an arch with several voussoirs, they preferred to use only three or five, and sometimes would carve the entire arch out of a single vertical slab. When they did use voussoirs, they were not satisfied with standard depths, as shown by the archivolt moldings, but made them three or four times as deep.

The masons, in fact, would seem to have retained the traditional Phoenician custom of the country to employ the largest stones they were able to quarry, transport and raise on the building. Subsequently, in working down the masonry, they reproduced the architectural features they found in Roman buildings; this was done, however, without any knowledge as to their constructional origin or meaning; thus, in copying a Roman pilaster, the capital and part of the shaft would be worked out of one stone, and the lower part of the shaft and the base out of another. It is only from this point of view that we can account for the peculiar development given to the decoration of their later work, where archivolts, wood mouldings and window dressings are looked upon as simply surface decoration to be applied round doorways and windows, without any reference to the jointing of the masonry.

The masons seemed to have kept the traditional Phoenician practice of using the largest stones they could quarry, transport, and set in the building. Later, when they worked on the masonry, they copied the architectural features they saw in Roman buildings; however, they did this without really understanding their construction or meaning. For instance, when they imitated a Roman pilaster, the capital and part of the shaft would be carved from one stone, while the lower part of the shaft and the base would be made from another stone. This perspective helps to explain the unique way they developed the decoration in their later work, where archivolts, wooden moldings, and window trims were seen as just surface decoration to be added around doorways and windows, with no consideration for how the masonry joined together.

The immense series of monuments, civil as well as religious existing throughout central Syria, were almost entirely unknown before the publication of the marquis of Vogüé’s work, La Syrie centrale, in 1865-1867. This work, illustrated with measured plans, sections and elevations, with perspective views, and accompanied by detailed descriptions of the various buildings, forms an invaluable record of an architectural style, more or less completely developed, which flourished from the 3rd to the beginning of the 7th century. An American archaeological expedition made further investigations in 1899-1900, and its report, written by Mr H.C. Butler, contains additional plans and a large number of photogravures, which bear testimony to the truth and accuracy of the engraved plates of the marquis de Vogüé. The preservation of these central Syrian remains, more or less intact, is considered to have been due either to the desertion of all the towns in which they were situated by the inhabitants at the time of the Mahommedan invasion, or, according to Mr H.C. Butler, to the deforesting of the whole country about the commencement of the 7th century.

The extensive series of monuments, both civil and religious, scattered across central Syria were mostly unknown until the publication of the marquis of Vogüé’s work, La Syrie centrale, in 1865-1867. This publication, featuring measured plans, sections, elevations, perspective views, and detailed descriptions of various buildings, serves as an invaluable record of an architectural style that was more or less fully developed between the 3rd and early 7th centuries. An American archaeological expedition conducted further investigations in 1899-1900, and its report, written by Mr. H.C. Butler, includes additional plans and numerous photogravures that confirm the accuracy of the engraved plates by the marquis de Vogüé. The preservation of these central Syrian remains, mostly intact, is believed to be due either to the abandonment of the towns where they were located during the time of the Muslim invasion or, according to Mr. H.C. Butler, to the deforestation of the entire region around the beginning of the 7th century.

The monuments and buildings illustrated may be divided into three classes,—ecclesiastical, including monasteries; civil and domestic; and tombs. It is in the two first that the principal interest is centred.

The monuments and buildings shown can be categorized into three groups: religious, which includes monasteries; public and residential; and graves. The main focus is on the first two categories.

Fig. 31.—Plan of Church of Kalb-Lauzeh.

Churches.—The earliest of these date from the end of the 4th century, and the latest inscription on a church is 609, so that a little over 200 years includes the whole series. With one or two small exceptions all the churches follow the basilican plan, with nave and aisles separated by arcades, the arches of which are carried by columns, four arches on each side in the smaller churches, ten in the largest. The churches are all orientated, and have generally a semi-circular apse, and occasionally a square or rectangular sanctuary at the east end, on either side of which are square chambers,—the diaconicon, reserved for the priests, on the south side, and the prothesis, on the north side, in which the offerings of the faithful were deposited. Except in the earliest churches, the entrance was generally at the west end, and was sometimes preceded by a porch. In addition to the west entrance, there were sometimes doorways leading direct into the north and south aisles, with projecting porticoes. About the middle of the 6th century a change was made in the design of the arcades in the nave, and rectangular piers with arches of wide span were substituted for the ordinary arcade with columns. The effect as shown in the engravings and photogravures is so fine that it is strange that the scheme was never adopted in the earlier Romanesque churches of Europe. The two more important examples are at Kalb-Lauzeh (fig. 31) and Ruweiha, but three or four others are known, and this plan was adopted in the basilica erected in the great court of the temple at Baalbek. All 390 the churches are built in fine ashlar masonry, with moulded archivolts and architraves to doorways and windows, and moulded string courses and cornices of simple design. The principal decoration externally is found in the hood-mould or label round the windows, continued as a string-course and carried round other windows, and sometimes terminating in a disk with cross in centre. These hood-moulds are occasionally richly carved. All the churches in central Syria had open timber roofs which have now disappeared; this is proved by the sinkings in the end walls to receive the purlins, and the corbels provided to carry the tie beams. The apses were always covered with semi-domes. The three most important churches were those of Turmanin, Kalb-Lauzeh and Kalat-Seman. The plans of the two first are similar, except that in Turmanin the nave arcade is of the ordinary type, with seven arches carried on columns, while in Kalb-Lauzeh (fig. 32) there are three wide arches on each side carried on two rectangular piers and responds. Both have entrance porches (fig. 33), which are flanked by angle buildings carried up as towers in three storeys; these probably contained wooden staircases to ascend to an open gallery, which consisted of four columns in-antis between the angle towers above the porch. The north and south walls were quite plain, except for window and door dressings and string courses; the apse was richly decorated, with wall shafts superimposed between the windows, and carrying a projecting cornice with alternate corbels. The church at Ruweiha has a similar plan to that at Kalb-Lauzeh, but two transverse arches in stone are thrown across the nave, resting on abutments attached to the nave piers.

Churches.—The earliest of these date from the late 4th century, and the most recent inscription on a church is from 609, so the entire series spans just over 200 years. With a few minor exceptions, all the churches follow the basilican layout, featuring a nave and aisles separated by arcades, with arches supported by columns—four arches on each side in the smaller churches and ten in the largest. The churches are all oriented and generally have a semi-circular apse, sometimes accompanied by a square or rectangular sanctuary at the east end, flanked by square chambers: the diaconicon, reserved for the priests on the south side, and the prothesis, on the north side, where offerings from the faithful were stored. Except in the earliest churches, the entrance was typically at the west end, sometimes preceded by a porch. In addition to the west entrance, there were sometimes doorways leading directly into the north and south aisles, complete with projecting porticoes. Around the middle of the 6th century, the design of the arcades in the nave changed, using rectangular piers with wide-spanning arches instead of the usual arcade with columns. The effect, as shown in the engravings and photogravures, is so impressive that it's surprising this design was never adopted in earlier Romanesque churches across Europe. The two most significant examples are at Kalb-Lauzeh (fig. 31) and Ruweiha, although three or four others are known, and this design was used in the basilica built in the great court of the temple at Baalbek. All the churches are constructed with fine ashlar masonry, featuring molded archivolts and architraves on doorways and windows, and simple molded string courses and cornices. The main external decoration is found in the hood-mold or label around the windows, which continues as a string-course and circles other windows, sometimes ending in a disk with a cross in the center. Occasionally, these hood-molds are intricately carved. All the churches in central Syria had open timber roofs that have since vanished; this is evidenced by indentations in the end walls to hold the purlins and corbels to support the tie beams. The apses were always covered with semi-domes. The three most important churches were at Turmanin, Kalb-Lauzeh, and Kalat-Seman. The layouts of the first two are similar, except that in Turmanin, the nave arcade is of the typical design, with seven arches on columns, while in Kalb-Lauzeh (fig. 32), there are three wide arches on each side resting on two rectangular piers and responds. Both feature entrance porches (fig. 33), which are flanked by corner buildings that rise as three-storey towers; these likely housed wooden staircases leading up to an open gallery made up of four columns in-antis between the corner towers above the porch. The north and south walls are quite plain, apart from window and door dressings and string courses; the apse, however, is richly decorated, with wall shafts positioned between the windows that support a projecting cornice with alternating corbels. The church at Ruweiha has a plan similar to that at Kalb-Lauzeh, but two transverse stone arches span the nave, resting on abutments attached to the nave piers.

Fig. 32.—Interior of the Church of Kalb-Lauzeh.

The most remarkable example and by far the largest is the great basilica at Kalat-Seman (fig. 34), which was erected round the pillar on which St. Simeon Stylites spent thirty years of his life. The base of the pillar stands in the centre of an immense octagonal court open to the sky. The plan consists of nave, transept and choir, all with side aisles, separated in the centre by the octagonal court which constitutes the crossing. The nave built on the side of a hill is raised on a crypt, and the principal entrance would seem to have been through the porch of the north transept, which occupies the full width of transept and aisles. There were, however, in addition two doorways with porches to each aisle, as well as portico and doors to the north transept. At the eastern end were three apses, the two outer ones, facing the aisles, being additions in the second half of the 6th centurv. St. Simeon died in 459, and the church was probably begun shortly afterwards, but not completed till the 6th century. The archivolts of the great arches on each side of the octagonal court consist of architrave, frieze and cornice, copied from the arch of the propylaca at Baalbek or other Roman work. Here, as in the great southern porch, the classic nature of the details is remarkable, the pilasters are all fluted, and the modillion and dentil, derived from Roman models, exist throughout. On the other hand, the carving of the foliage was certainly executed by Greek artists, and the well-known Byzantine capital, with the leaves bending under the influence of the wind, is here reproduced. The great apse externally retains its decoration with superimposed shafts and cornice, as in Turmanin and Kalb-Lauzeh.

The most notable example, and by far the largest, is the great basilica at Kalat-Seman (fig. 34), which was built around the pillar where St. Simeon Stylites spent thirty years of his life. The base of the pillar is in the center of a massive octagonal courtyard open to the sky. The layout includes a nave, transept, and choir, all with side aisles, separated in the middle by the octagonal courtyard that forms the crossing. The nave, built on the hillside, is elevated on a crypt, and the main entrance seems to have been through the porch of the north transept, which spans the entire width of the transept and aisles. Additionally, there were two doorways with porches leading to each aisle, as well as a portico and doors to the north transept. At the eastern end, there are three apses, with the two outer ones facing the aisles added in the latter half of the 6th century. St. Simeon died in 459, and the church was likely started shortly after that, though it wasn’t finished until the 6th century. The archivolts of the large arches on each side of the octagonal courtyard comprise an architrave, frieze, and cornice, modeled after the arch of the propylons at Baalbek or other Roman constructions. Here, as in the grand southern porch, the classic nature of the details is striking; the pilasters are all fluted, and the modillion and dentil, inspired by Roman designs, are present throughout. On the other hand, the foliage carving was definitely done by Greek artists, and the well-known Byzantine capital featuring leaves bending in the wind is also reproduced here. The large apse still displays its decoration with superimposed shafts and cornice, similar to those in Turmanin and Kalb-Lauzeh.

Fig. 33.—Church of Turmanin.

The monastery of Kalat-Seman was built on the south side of the great church, and many of the rooms had roofs of slabs of stone carried on arches across the room, a method of construction universally found in the Hauran, where the absence of timber necessitated this more permanent method of construction. The monasteries differ from the domestic work in being much plainer, and, instead of columns in the porticoes, having invariably square piers of stone.

The monastery of Kalat-Seman was constructed on the south side of the large church, with many of its rooms featuring stone slab roofs supported by arches. This building style is common in the Hauran region, where the lack of timber required a more durable approach. The monasteries are simpler compared to residential buildings, typically using square stone piers instead of columns in the porticoes.

Fig. 34.—Plan of Church of Kalat-Seman.

Among circular churches, the walls of the cathedral at Bozra are gone, so that the conjectural restoration shown in de Vogué’s work is purely speculative, but in the church at Ezra (510) the central octagon is covered by a high dome of elliptical section. An aisle is carried round the octagon with similar recesses on the diagonal lines, 391 the whole being enclosed in a square; in the apse at the east end the seats of the tribune are still preserved.

Among circular churches, the walls of the cathedral at Bozra are gone, so the suggested restoration shown in de Vogué’s work is purely speculative. However, in the church at Ezra (510), the central octagon is topped with a high dome that has an elliptical shape. An aisle runs around the octagon with similar niches on the diagonal lines, 391 all enclosed in a square; in the apse at the east end, the seats of the tribune are still intact.

Domestic Work.—The domestic work in central Syria is, in a way, even more remarkable than the ecclesiastical. Broadly speaking, there are two types of plan—those found in the towns and grouped together, and those which, with increased area, constituted a villa. At El Barah the average house occupied a site of about 80 ft. by 60 ft., of which about 30 ft. in width was occupied by an open court; facing this court, which was enclosed with high walls, is an open colonnade on two floors, which always faces south, occupies the whole front (80 ft.) of the house, and is the only means of approach to the rooms in the rear, three on each floor, side by side. In the centre of these rooms, 14 ft. wide each, an arch is thrown across on each floor, which carries slabs of stone covering the first floor and the roof; the upper storey was reached probably by a timber staircase, now gone, but in poorer dwellings an external flight of steps in stone led to an upper floor. All the houses face the same way. The colonnade of the house consisted of about fifteen columns on each storey. Each column, including its capital and base, was cut out of a single stone; on the upper storey, between the columns, are stone vertical slabs forming a balustrade; the houses are all built in fine ashlar masonry with architraves and cornices to doors and windows, a luxury which in England could rarely be indulged in for ordinary houses. At El Barah, in an area of about 250 ft. by 150 ft. as shown by de Vogüé, there are about 100 monolith columns, 12 ft. high, on the ground storey alone. In a villa at El Barah the open court is surrounded on three sides by buildings, those at the east end of considerable extent and in three storeys. A smaller example at Mujeleia has two courts, one of them being for stables and other services; otherwise the residence of the proprietor is similar to the one above described. Here and there the fantasy of the artist has been allowed to revel in the carving of the balustrades, door lintels, &c. The capitals are of endless design, and show interpretations of Ionic and Corinthian capitals, in some cases not dissimilar to the Byzantine versions in St Mark’s at Venice.

Domestic Work.—The domestic architecture in central Syria is, in some ways, even more impressive than the religious structures. Generally, there are two types of layouts—those found in towns, which are clustered together, and those that cover larger areas, resembling villas. In El Barah, the average house took up a space of about 80 ft. by 60 ft., with around 30 ft. dedicated to an open courtyard. Facing this courtyard, which is surrounded by high walls, is a two-story open colonnade that always faces south, spanning the entire front (80 ft.) of the house, and serves as the only entrance to the rooms at the back, three on each floor, side by side. In the center of these rooms, which are each 14 ft. wide, an arch extends across each floor, holding stone slabs that form the floor of the first level and the roof. The upper level was likely accessed by a wooden staircase, now missing, but in simpler homes, an external stone staircase led to the upper floor. All the houses face the same direction. The colonnade features about fifteen columns on each level. Each column, complete with its capital and base, was carved from a single piece of stone; on the upper level, between the columns, stone vertical slabs form a balustrade. The houses are constructed with fine ashlar masonry, complete with architraves and cornices around doors and windows—a luxury that would rarely be found in typical homes in England. At El Barah, in an area measuring roughly 250 ft. by 150 ft., as noted by de Vogüé, there are around 100 monolithic columns, each 12 ft. high, on the ground floor alone. In one villa at El Barah, the open courtyard is bordered on three sides by buildings, with those at the east end being particularly large and three stories high. A smaller example at Mujeleia has two courtyards, one designated for stables and other services; otherwise, the owner's residence is similar to the one described above. Occasionally, the creativity of the artist is evident in the intricate carvings of the balustrades, door lintels, etc. The capitals showcase a variety of designs, reflecting interpretations of Ionic and Corinthian styles, some of which resemble the Byzantine versions found in St. Mark’s in Venice.

Hostelries and public baths are amongst other civil buildings which are recognizable, the hostelries in some cases being attached to the monasteries.

Hostels and public baths are among other public buildings that are easy to recognize, with some hostels being connected to monasteries.

Tombs.—The principal tombs are either excavated in the rock, with an open court in front and an entrance portico, like the tombs of the kings at Jerusalem, and sometimes a superstructure of columns or a podium raised above them; or again they are built in masonry, and take the form of sepulchral chapels; in the latter case, if many sarcophagi have to be deposited, and the chapel is of great length, arches are thrown across, about 6 ft. centre to centre, to support the slabs of stone with which they are covered. This carries on the traditional custom of the Roman temples in Syria, the roofs of which, in stone, were similarly supported. Sometimes there will be two storeys, the upper one covered with a dome. Those which are peculiar to the country are square tombs, with a pyramidal stone roof all built in horizontal courses, and either enclosed with a peristyle all round, on one or two storeys, or having a portico in front with flat stone roof. The cornices, string courses and lintels of the doors of these tombs of the 4th and 5th centuries, are enriched with carving, showing strong Byzantine influence, though probably due to the employment of Greek artists.

Tombs.—The main tombs are either carved into the rock, featuring an open courtyard in front and an entrance portico, similar to the tombs of the kings in Jerusalem, sometimes with a structure of columns or a raised podium above them; or they are constructed from masonry and take the shape of burial chapels. In the latter case, if multiple sarcophagi need to be placed and the chapel is quite long, arches are built about 6 feet apart to support the stone slabs that cover them. This practice continues the traditional style of Roman temples in Syria, where the stone roofs were similarly supported. Occasionally, there are two levels, with the upper one topped by a dome. The distinctive tombs of the region are square, featuring a pyramidal stone roof all built in horizontal layers, and they are either surrounded by a peristyle on one or two levels, or have a portico in front with a flat stone roof. The cornices, String courses, and door lintels of these tombs from the 4th and 5th centuries are elaborately carved, showing a clear Byzantine influence, likely due to the work of Greek artists.

(R. P. S.)

The Coptic Church in Egypt

The Coptic Church in Egypt

The earliest places of Christian worship in Egypt were probably only chapels or oratories of small dimensions attached to the monasteries, which were spread throughout the country; a wholesale destruction of these took place at various times, more especially by the order of Severus, about 200 B.C., so that no remains have come down to us. The most ancient examples known are those which are attributed to the empress Helena, of which there are important portions preserved in the churches of the White and Red monasteries at the foot of the Libyan hills near Suhag.

The earliest Christian places of worship in Egypt were probably just small chapels or prayer rooms connected to monasteries scattered throughout the country. These were largely destroyed at various times, especially by Severus's order around 200 BCE, leaving no remains for us to see today. The oldest examples known are those linked to Empress Helena, with significant parts preserved in the churches of the White and Red monasteries at the base of the Libyan hills near Suhag.

Although the plan of the Coptic church is generally basilican, i.e. consists of nave and aisles, it is probable that they were not copied from Roman examples, but were based on expansions of the first oratories built, to which aisles had afterwards been added. There are no long transepts, as in the early Christian basilicas of St Peter’s at Rome, and of St Paul outside the walls, and there is only one example of a cruciform church with a dome in the centre following the Byzantine plan. Even at an early period the nave and aisles were covered sometimes with barrel vaults, either semicircular or elliptical. The Coptic church was always orientated with the sanctuaries at the east end. The aisles were returned round the west end and had galleries above for women. Sometimes the western aisle has been walled up to form a narthex; in many cases a narthex was built, but, in consequence of the persecution to which the Copts were subject at the hands of the Moslems, its three doors have been blocked up and a separate small entrance provided. The narthex was the place for penitents, but was sometimes used for baptism by total immersion, there being epiphany tanks sunk in the floor of the churches at Old Cairo, known as Abu Serga, Abu-s-Sifain (Abu Sefen) and El Adra; these are now boarded over, as total immersion is no longer practised.

Although the layout of the Coptic church is usually basilica-style, meaning it has a nave and aisles, it's likely that they didn’t copy Roman designs but instead developed from the early oratories, to which aisles were later added. There are no long transepts like those in the early Christian basilicas of St. Peter’s in Rome or St. Paul outside the walls, and there is only one example of a cruciform church with a dome in the center following the Byzantine plan. Even in early times, the nave and aisles were sometimes covered with barrel vaults, either semicircular or elliptical. The Coptic church was always oriented with the sanctuary at the east end. The aisles wrapped around the west end and had galleries above for women. Sometimes, the western aisle has been closed off to create a narthex; in many cases, a narthex was built, but due to the persecution that Copts faced from Muslims, its three doors have been blocked, and a separate small entrance has been provided. The narthex was meant for penitents, but it was also sometimes used for total immersion baptisms, as there were epiphany tanks built into the floors of the churches in Old Cairo, known as Abu Serga, Abu-s-Sifain (Abu Sefen), and El Adra; these are now covered over since total immersion is no longer practiced.

There are a few exceptions to the basilican plan; and in four examples (two in Cairo and two at Deir-Mar-Antonios in the eastern desert by the Gulf of Suez) there are three aisles of equal widths, divided one from the other by two rows of columns with three in each row, thus dividing the roof into twelve square compartments, each of which is covered with a dome.

There are a few exceptions to the basilican layout; in four examples (two in Cairo and two at Deir-Mar-Antonios in the eastern desert near the Gulf of Suez), there are three aisles of equal width, separated by two rows of columns that each have three columns, which divides the roof into twelve square sections, each covered by a dome.

The sanctuaries at the east end, as developed in the Coptic church, differ in some particulars from those of any other religious structures. There are always three chapels or sanctuaries, with an altar in each, the central chapel being known as the Haikal. The chapels are more often square than apsidal, and are always surmounted by a complete dome, a peculiarity not found out of Egypt. The seats of the tribune are still preserved in a large number of the sanctuaries, and there are probably more examples in Egypt than in all Europe, if Russia and Mount Athos be excepted. Those of Abu-Serga, El Adra and Abu-s-Sifain, with three concentric rows of seats and a throne in the centre, are the most important; but even in the square sanctuaries the tradition is retained, and seats are ranged against the east wall, and in one case (at Anba-Bishôi) three steps are carried across, and behind them is a segmental tribune of three steps, with throne in the centre.

The sanctuaries at the east end, as shaped by the Coptic church, differ in some details from those of other religious buildings. There are always three chapels or sanctuaries, each with an altar, and the central chapel is called the Haikal. The chapels are typically square rather than apsidal, and they are always topped with a complete dome, a feature not seen outside of Egypt. The seating in the tribune is still found in many of the sanctuaries, and there are probably more examples in Egypt than in all of Europe, except for Russia and Mount Athos. The most significant ones are Abu-Serga, El Adra, and Abu-s-Sifain, which have three concentric rows of seats and a throne in the center; however, even in the square sanctuaries, the tradition continues, with seats arranged against the east wall, and in one case (at Anba-Bishôi), there are three steps across, with a segmental tribune of three steps behind them, featuring a throne in the center.

The most remarkable Coptic churches in Egypt are those of the Deir-el-Abiad (the White monastery) and the Deir-el-Akhmar (the Red monastery) at Suhag. These were of great size, measuring about 240 ft. by 130 ft. with vaulted narthex, nave and aisles separated by two rows of monolith columns taken from ancient buildings, twelve in each row and probably roofed over in timber, and three apses, directed respectively towards the east, north and south. These apses are unusually deep and have five niches in each, in two storeys separated by superimposed columns. In the church of St John at Antinoe there are seven niches. A similar arrangement is found in the three apses, placed side by side, in the more ancient portion of St Mark’s, Venice, built A.D. 820, and said to have been copied from St Mark’s at Alexandria. There is no external architecture in the Coptic churches; they are all masked with immense enclosure walls, so as to escape attention. The walls of the interior still preserve a great portion of the paintings of scriptural subjects; the screens dividing off the Haikal and other chapels from the choir are of great beauty, and evidently formed the models from which the panelled woodwork, doors and pulpits of the Mahommedan mosques have been copied and reproduced by Copts.

The most notable Coptic churches in Egypt are the Deir-el-Abiad (the White Monastery) and the Deir-el-Akhmar (the Red Monastery) at Suhag. These churches are quite large, measuring about 240 ft. by 130 ft., featuring a vaulted narthex, nave, and aisles separated by two rows of solid columns taken from ancient buildings, with twelve columns in each row, likely topped with wooden roofs. They have three apses pointing towards the east, north, and south, which are unusually deep and include five niches in each, arranged in two levels separated by stacked columns. The church of St. John at Antinoe contains seven niches. A similar design is seen in the three side-by-side apses of the older section of St. Mark’s in Venice, built in A.D. 820, said to be modeled after St. Mark’s in Alexandria. There isn’t any external architecture in the Coptic churches; they are all hidden behind massive enclosure walls to avoid drawing attention. The interiors still hold many of the paintings depicting scriptural subjects; the screens that separate the Haikal and other chapels from the choir are beautifully crafted and clearly served as models for the panelled woodwork, doors, and pulpits found in Muslim mosques, replicated by Copts.

Illustrations are given in A.J. Butler’s Ancient Coptic Churches of Egypt(1884); Wladimir de Bock’s Matériaux archéologiques de l’Égypte chrétienne(1901); and A. Gayet’s L’art coptique.

Illustrations can be found in A.J. Butler’s Ancient Coptic Churches of Egypt (1884); Wladimir de Bock’s Matériaux archéologiques de l’Égypte chrétienne (1901); and A. Gayet’s L’art coptique.

(R. P. S.)

Romanesque and Gothic Architecture in Italy

Romanesque and Gothic Architecture in Italy

“Romanesque” is the broad generic term adopted about the beginning of the 19th century by French archaeologists in order to bring under one head all the various phases of the round-arched Christian style, hitherto known as Lombard and Byzantine Romanesque in Italy, Rhenish in Germany, “Romane” and Norman in France, Saxon and Norman in England, &c. In character, as well as in time, the Romanesque lies between the Roman and the Gothic or Pointed style, but its first manifestation in Italy has already been described in the section on “Early Christian Architecture,” and it only remains to deal with the subsequent development from the age of Charlemagne, which marks an epoch in the history of architecture, and from which period examples are to be found in every country.

“Romanesque” is the broad term adopted around the beginning of the 19th century by French archaeologists to group together all the different phases of the round-arched Christian style, which was previously known as Lombard and Byzantine Romanesque in Italy, Rhenish in Germany, “Romane” and Norman in France, Saxon and Norman in England, etc. In both character and time, the Romanesque style lies between the Roman and Gothic or Pointed style. However, its first appearance in Italy has already been discussed in the section on “Early Christian Architecture,” and now we only need to address the later development from the age of Charlemagne, which marks a significant period in the history of architecture, with examples from this era found in every country.

In consequence of the lack of homogeneousness in the Romanesque style as developed in Italy, owing to the mixture of styles, and the difficulty of tracing the precise influence of any one race in buildings frequently added to, restored or rebuilt, their description will be more easily followed if a geographical subdivision be made, the simplest being Northern or Lombard Romanesque, Central Romanesque and Southern Romanesque; after the latter would follow the Sicilian Romanesque, which, owing to the Saracenic craftsman, constitutes a type by itself. This leaves still one other phase to be noted, the influence recognized in northern Italy of the architectural style of the Eastern Empire at Byzantium, either direct or through Istria and Dalmatia. In the churches at Ravenna, this influence has already been referred to in the section on “Early Christian Architecture,” but it appears again in the church of St. Mark at Venice, and in much of its domestic architecture, so that it is necessary to recognize another term,, that of “Byzantine Romanesque.”

Due to the lack of consistency in the Romanesque style developed in Italy, because of the mix of styles and the challenge of identifying the specific influence of any one culture in buildings that were often added to, restored, or rebuilt, it will be easier to categorize their description geographically. The simplest divisions are Northern or Lombard Romanesque, Central Romanesque, and Southern Romanesque; following the latter is Sicilian Romanesque, which stands out due to the influence of Saracenic craftsmanship. There is also one more aspect to note: the influence seen in northern Italy from the architectural style of the Eastern Empire at Byzantium, either directly or through Istria and Dalmatia. This influence has already been mentioned in the section on “Early Christian Architecture” in relation to the churches at Ravenna, but it reappears in the church of St. Mark in Venice and in much of its residential architecture, making it necessary to introduce another term, “Byzantine Romanesque.”

Northern or Lombard Romanesque.—Although the materials for forming an adequate notion of the earlier work of the Lombards are very scanty, after their conversion to the Catholic faith the Church probably exercised a powerful influence in their architectural work. Under Liutprand, towards the close of the 8th century, an order 392 known as the Magistri Commacini was established, to whom were given the privileges of freemen in the Lombard State. These Commacini, so named from the island in the lake of Como whence they sprang, were trained masons and builders, who in the 9th and 10th century would seem to have carried the Lombard style through north and south Italy, Germany and portions of France. It was at one time assumed that they had influenced the church architecture throughout Europe, but this is not borne out by the evidence of the buildings themselves, except in the Rhenish provinces and in the districts on the slope of the Harz Mountains, where in sculpture a strange mixture is found of monstrous animals with Scandinavian interlaced patterns and Byzantine foliage, bearing a close resemblance to the early sculpture in Sant Ambrogio at Milan and San Michele at Pavia (Plate V, fig. 72). Although the earliest Lombard buildings in Italy (such as those of San Salvatore in Brescia, San Vincenzo in Prato at Milan the church of Agliate and Santa Maria delle Caccie at Pavia) were basilican in plan with nave and aisles, there are some instances in which the adoption of a transept has produced the Latin cross plan (e.g. San Michele at Pavia, Sant’ Antonino at Piacenza, San Nazaro-Grande at Milan, and the cathedrals of Parma and Modena), though to what extent this is due to subsequent rebuilding is not known. In the early basilicas above mentioned the columns, carrying the arcades between nave and aisles, were taken from earlier buildings, while the capitals, where not Roman, were either rude imitations of Roman, or Byzantine in style. The roofs were always in wood, and the exteriors of the simplest description. In the external decoration, however, of the apses of the churches of San Vincenzo in Prato, Santa Maria delle Caccie, the church at Agliate and the ancient portion of S. Ambrogio at Milan, we find the germ of that decorative feature which (afterwards developed into the eaves gallery) became throughout Italy and on the Rhine the most beautiful and characteristic element of the Lombard style. In order to lighten the wall above the hemispherical vault of the apse, a series of niches was sunk within the arches of the corbel table, which gave to the cornice that deep shadow where it was most wanted for effect. In addition to the churches above named, similar niches are found in the baptisteries of Novara and Arsago, the Duomo Vecchio at Brescia and the church of San Nazaro Grande at Milan. Towards the close of the 11th century, the imposts of these niches take the form of isolated piers, with a narrow gallery behind, and eventually small shafts with capitals are substituted for the piers, producing the eaves-galleries of the apses, which in Santa Maria Maggiore at Bergamo (1137) and the cathedral of Piacenza are the forerunners of numerous others in Italy, and in the churches of Cologne, Bonn, Bacharach and other examples on the Rhine, constitute their most important external decoration.

Northern or Lombard Romanesque.—Although there's very little information about the early work of the Lombards, it's likely that after they converted to Catholicism, the Church had a significant impact on their architectural styles. Under Liutprand, towards the end of the 8th century, an order called the Magistri Commacini was established, granting them the rights of freemen in the Lombard State. These Commacini, named after the island in Lake Como from where they originated, were skilled masons and builders who, in the 9th and 10th centuries, appeared to carry the Lombard style throughout northern and southern Italy, Germany, and parts of France. It was once assumed that they influenced church architecture all over Europe, but this isn't supported by the actual evidence from the buildings themselves, except in the Rhenish provinces and areas on the slopes of the Harz Mountains, where their sculpture features a strange blend of monstrous animals with Scandinavian interlaced designs and Byzantine foliage, resembling early sculptures in Sant Ambrogio at Milan and San Michele at Pavia (Plate V, fig. 72). While the earliest Lombard buildings in Italy (like those of San Salvatore in Brescia, San Vincenzo in Prato, the church of Agliate, and Santa Maria delle Caccie at Pavia) were based on a basilican plan with a nave and aisles, there are cases where adopting a transept created a Latin cross plan (e.g. San Michele at Pavia, Sant’ Antonino at Piacenza, San Nazaro-Grande at Milan, and the cathedrals of Parma and Modena), although it’s unclear how much this is due to later rebuilding. In the early basilicas mentioned above, the columns that supported the arcades between the nave and aisles were taken from older buildings, while the capitals, if not Roman, were either crude copies of Roman designs or Byzantine in style. The roofs were always wooden, and the exteriors were quite simple. However, in the external decoration of the apses of the churches of San Vincenzo in Prato, Santa Maria delle Caccie, the church at Agliate, and the ancient part of S. Ambrogio at Milan, we find the beginnings of a decorative feature that later evolved into the eaves gallery, which became the most beautiful and defining element of the Lombard style throughout Italy and along the Rhine. To relieve the wall above the hemispherical vault of the apse, a series of niches was carved into the arches of the corbel table, creating a deep shadow in the cornice where it was needed for effect. Besides the churches mentioned, similar niches can be found in the baptisteries of Novara and Arsago, the Duomo Vecchio at Brescia, and the church of San Nazaro Grande at Milan. By the end of the 11th century, the supports of these niches evolved into isolated piers, with a narrow gallery behind them, eventually replaced by small shafts with capitals, leading to the eaves-galleries of the apses, which in Santa Maria Maggiore at Bergamo (1137) and the cathedral of Piacenza are the precursors of many others in Italy, and in the churches of Cologne, Bonn, Bacharach, and other examples along the Rhine, represent their most significant external decoration.

Fig. 35.—Plan of S. Ambrogio.

In the apses of San Vincenzo in Prato and of the church at Agliate (both of the 9th century) there is another decorative feature, destined afterwards to become one of the most important methods of breaking up or subdividing the wall surface, i.e. the thin pilaster strips, which, at regular intervals, rise from the lower part of the wall to the corbel table of the cornice.

In the apses of San Vincenzo in Prato and the church at Agliate (both from the 9th century), there's another decorative element that later became one of the key ways to break up or divide the wall surface, namely the thin pilaster strips. These strips rise at regular intervals from the lower part of the wall up to the corbel table of the cornice.

The two most important churches of the Lombard Romanesque style are those of Sant’ Ambrogio at Milan and S. Michele at Pavia, their importance being increased by the fact that they probably represent the earliest examples of the solution of the great problem which was exercising the minds of the church builders towards the end of the 11th century, the vaulting of the nave. In the original church, of the 9th century, the nave and aisles of Sant’ Ambrogio were divided in the usual way with arcades, and were covered with open timber roofs. In the rebuilding of the church (fig. 35) the nave (38 ft. wide) was divided into four square bays, and compound piers of large dimensions were built, to carry the transverse and diagonal ribs of the new vault. To resist the thrust, the walls across the aisles were built up to the roof, and had external buttresses, the diagonal ribs instead of following the elliptical curve which the intersection of the Roman semicircular barrel vault gave to the groin, were made semicircular, so that the web or vaulting surface which rested on these ribs rose upwards towards the centre of the bay, giving a distinct domical form to the vault. The aisles, being half the width of the nave, were divided into eight compartments, two to each bay of the nave, and were covered both in the ground storey and the triforium with intersecting groin vaults. When this rebuilding took place, the front of the church was brought forward, bearing a narthex, and the arcades of the atrium were rebuilt in the first years of the 12th century. The triple apse, to the external decoration of which we have called attention, the crypt underneath, and the south campanile, are the only remains of the 9th century church. The campanile on the north side was built 1125-1149, and the decoration with pilaster strips, semi-detached shafts, and arched corbel table, is repeated on the façade of the church and on the arcade round the atrium. In the rebuilding, portions of the sculptural decoration of the 9th century church were utilized, this would appear to have been a Lombard custom, as in the church of San Michele the lower part of the main front is encrusted with sculptured decoration taken from the earlier churches built on the site. These ancient sculptures are of special interest, as they constitute the best records of the rude Lombard work of the 8th and 9th centuries, and are intermingled with Byzantine scroll work and interlaced patterns. If the plan of Sant’ Ambrogio, with its comparatively thin enclosure walls suggests its original construction as an ordinary basilica, this is not the case with San Michele (fig. 36), where all the external walls are of great thickness, showing that from the first it was intended to vault the whole structure The church is much smaller than Sant Ambrogio, there being originally only two square bays to the nave (in the 15th century the vaults were rebuilt with four bays), the transept, however projects widely beyond the aisles, and as there is another bay given to the choir in front of the apse, the area of the two churches is about the same. The existing church was probably begun shortly after the destructive earthquake of 1117, and was consecrated in 1132. In Sant’ Ambrogio the transverse and diagonal arches spring from just above the triforium floor, so that there was no room for clerestory windows, and consequently the interior is dark. In San Michele the ribs rise from the level of the top of the triforium arcades and two clerestory windows are provided to each bay. The crossing of the nave and transept is covered with a dome carried on squinches, which dates from the first building. The dome over the fourth bay of Sant’ Ambrogio replaced the original vault about the beginning of the 13th century.

The two most important churches of the Lombard Romanesque style are Sant’ Ambrogio in Milan and S. Michele in Pavia, and their significance is heightened by the fact that they likely represent the earliest examples of overcoming the major challenge that church builders faced at the end of the 11th century: vaulting the nave. In the original 9th-century church, Sant’ Ambrogio's nave and aisles were divided in the typical way with arcades and had open timber roofs. During the church's reconstruction (fig. 35), the nave (38 ft. wide) was divided into four square bays, and large compound piers were built to support the transverse and diagonal ribs of the new vault. To counteract the thrust, the walls across the aisles were extended to the roof and had external buttresses. Instead of following the elliptical curve created by the intersection of the Roman semicircular barrel vault, the diagonal ribs were made semicircular, allowing the vaulting surface that rested on these ribs to rise towards the center of the bay, giving the vault a clear domical shape. The aisles, being half the width of the nave, were divided into eight compartments, two for each bay of the nave, and were covered with intersecting groin vaults on both the ground level and the triforium. During the rebuilding, the church's front was extended to include a narthex, and the arcades of the atrium were reconstructed in the early 12th century. The triple apse, which we’ve noted for its external decoration, the crypt below, and the south campanile, are the only remnants of the 9th-century church. The campanile on the north side was built from 1125 to 1149, and its decoration, featuring pilaster strips, semi-detached shafts, and an arched corbel table, is mirrored on the church’s façade and the arcade around the atrium. During the reconstruction, portions of the sculptural decoration from the 9th-century church were reused, which seems to have been a Lombard practice, as seen in the church of San Michele where the lower part of the main façade is adorned with sculptures from earlier churches on the site. These ancient sculptures are particularly valuable, as they represent the best records of the rough Lombard work from the 8th and 9th centuries, intermixed with Byzantine scrollwork and interlaced patterns. If the layout of Sant’ Ambrogio, with its relatively thin enclosing walls, suggests it was originally built as a simple basilica, this is not the case with San Michele (fig. 36), where all the external walls are quite thick, indicating that it was designed from the start to have a vaulted structure. The church is much smaller than Sant’ Ambrogio, originally featuring only two square bays in the nave (although the vaults were rebuilt with four bays in the 15th century), but its transept extends far beyond the aisles, and with an additional bay for the choir in front of the apse, the overall area of the two churches is comparable. The existing church probably began construction shortly after the devastating earthquake of 1117 and was consecrated in 1132. In Sant’ Ambrogio, the transverse and diagonal arches spring just above the triforium floor, leaving no space for clerestory windows and resulting in a dark interior. In contrast, San Michele has ribs that rise from the top of the triforium arcades, providing two clerestory windows for each bay. The crossing of the nave and transept is topped with a dome supported by squinches, which dates back to the original construction. The dome over the fourth bay of Sant’ Ambrogio replaced the original vault around the early 13th century.

Fig. 36.—Plan of San Michele Pavia.

The cathedral of Novara, originally of the ordinary basilica type of the 10th century with timber roofs, was reconstructed in the 11th century, compound piers being built to carry the transverse and diagonal ribs and walls built across the outer aisles to resist the thrust, on the other hand SS. Pietro and Paolo at Bologna is a 12th century church which was designed from the first to be vaulted. To these, and still belonging to the basilican plan, must be added San Pietro in Cielo d’oro (1136) and San Teodoro, both in Pavia; S. Evasio at Casale Monferrato, having a comparatively narrow nave with double aisles on either side and a very remarkable narthex or porch. S. Lorenzo at Verona (lately restored), which in the 12th century was rebuilt with compound piers to carry a vault (the apse and the two remarkable circular towers in the west front belong to the ancient church), and Sant’ Abbondio at Como often restored and partly rebuilt, retaining however, some of the original sculpture of the early Lombard period.

The Novara Cathedral, originally a typical 10th-century basilica with wooden roofs, was rebuilt in the 11th century, featuring compound piers to support the transverse and diagonal ribs, as well as walls across the outer aisles to counteract the thrust. In contrast, SS. Pietro and Paolo in Bologna is a 12th-century church that was designed from the beginning to have a vaulted structure. Additionally, still part of the basilican layout, we must include San Pietro in Cielo d’oro (1136) and San Teodoro, both located in Pavia; S. Evasio in Casale Monferrato, which has a relatively narrow nave flanked by double aisles and a very notable narthex or porch; S. Lorenzo in Verona (recently restored), which was rebuilt in the 12th century with compound piers to support a vault (the apse and the two remarkable circular towers on the west front are from the original church); and Sant’ Abbondio in Como, which has been frequently restored and partially rebuilt, but still preserves some of the original sculpture from the early Lombard period.

Of churches built on the plan of the Latin cross, examples are Sant’ Antonino at Piacenza, with an octagonal lantern tower over the crossing, Parma cathedral (c. 1175), with an octagonal pointed dome over the crossing, Modena cathedral, rebuilt and consecrated 393 in 1184; San Nazaro-Grande at Milan; and San Lanfranco at Pavia, the two latter without aisles.

Of churches designed in the shape of a Latin cross, there are examples like Sant’ Antonino in Piacenza, which features an octagonal lantern tower over the crossing, Parma Cathedral (circa 1175), known for its octagonal pointed dome over the crossing, Modena Cathedral, which was rebuilt and consecrated in 1184; San Nazaro-Grande in Milan; and San Lanfranco in Pavia, the last two having no aisles.

Plate I.

Plate 1.

Fig. 62.—PISA.
Photo, Anderson.
Fig. 63—ST MARK’S, VENICE.

Plate II.

Plate II.

Photo, Neurdean. Photo, F. Frith & Co.
Fig. 64.—AMIENS CATHEDRAL. Fig. 65.—BURGOS CATHEDRAL.
Photo, F. Frith & Co. Photo, F. Frith & Co.
Fig. 66.—ST PAUL’S, LONDON. Fig. 67.—ELY CATHEDRAL.

Reference has already been made to the eaves-galleries of the apses of the Lombard churches. A similar gallery was carried across the main front, rising with the slope of the roof, as in San Michele, Pavia; also on the west fronts of San Pietro in Cielo d’oro and San Lanfranco, at Pavia; and in the cathedrals of Parma and Piacenza. In all these cases the galleries are not quite continuous, vertical buttresses or groups of shafts or single shafts being carried up through them to the corbel tables. In S. Ambrogio at Milan the central original lantern is surrounded with two tiers of galleries. The finest example of their employment, however, is in the magnificent central tower of the Cistercian church at Chiaravalle, near Milan, where the two lower storeys form the drum of the internal dome, the two storeys above are set back, and the upper storey consists of a lofty octagonal tower with conical spire.

Reference has already been made to the overhanging galleries of the apse in the Lombard churches. A similar gallery was built across the main front, following the slope of the roof, as seen in San Michele, Pavia; also on the west fronts of San Pietro in Cielo d’oro and San Lanfranco in Pavia, as well as in the cathedrals of Parma and Piacenza. In all these examples, the galleries are not completely continuous; vertical buttresses or groups of shafts or single shafts extend through them to the corbel tables. In S. Ambrogio in Milan, the original central lantern is surrounded by two tiers of galleries. The finest example of this feature is in the impressive central tower of the Cistercian church at Chiaravalle, near Milan, where the two lower levels form the drum of the internal dome, the two upper levels are set back, and the top level consists of a tall octagonal tower with a conical spire.

One of the serious defects in the front of the church of San Michele at Pavia is that it forms a mask, and takes no cognizance of the aisle roofs, which are at a lower level, and the same is found in San Pietro-in-Cielo d’oro at Pavia. This mask is carried to an absurd extent in the church of Santa Maria della Pieve at Arezzo, in which, above the ground storey of the arcades, are three galleries forming strong horizontal lines, which suggest the numerous floors of a civic building instead of the vertical subdivisions of a church. This defect is not found in the church of San Zeno at Verona, which is one of the finest of the Lombard churches; the church is basilican in plan, the nave being divided into five bays with compound piers, as in Sant’ Ambrogio, as if it were intended to vault it; this, however, was never done, but stone arches arc thrown across the two westernmost bays of the nave as if to carry the roof (now concealed by a wooden ceiling). The façade is of marble and sandstone, with pilaster-strips rising from the base to the arched corbel table, and the outline of the nave and aisles is preserved in the front, in which all the mouldings and carving arc of the utmost delicacy. Both here and in the cathedral are fine examples of those projecting porches, the columns of which are carried on the backs of lions or other beasts. At Piacenza, Parma, Mantua, Bergamo and Modena are porches of a similar kind, and in the cathedral of Modena the columns which support the balcony on the entrance to the crypt are all carried on the backs of lions. The cathedral of Verona has suffered so much from rebuilding and restoration that little remains of the earlier structure, but the apse of the choir, decorated with a close set range of pilaster-strips, with bases and Corinthian capitals and crowned with a highly enriched entablature, is quite unique in its design.

One of the major flaws in the front of the church of San Michele in Pavia is that it looks like a mask and doesn’t take into account the aisle roofs, which are at a lower level. The same issue appears in San Pietro-in-Cielo d’oro at Pavia. This masking effect is taken to an extreme in the church of Santa Maria della Pieve in Arezzo, where above the ground level of the arcades, there are three galleries that create strong horizontal lines, resembling the multiple floors of a civic building rather than the vertical sections of a church. This problem is not present in the church of San Zeno in Verona, which is one of the finest Lombard churches. The church has a basilican plan, with the nave divided into five bays supported by compound piers, similar to Sant’ Ambrogio, as if it was meant to be vaulted; however, this was never completed. Instead, stone arches span across the two westernmost bays of the nave as if to support the roof (which is now hidden by a wooden ceiling). The façade is made of marble and sandstone, featuring pilaster-strips that extend from the base to the arched corbel table, and the outline of the nave and aisles is clearly defined in the front, with all the mouldings and carvings being extremely delicate. Both here and in the cathedral, there are impressive examples of projecting porches, with columns resting on the backs of lions or other animals. In Piacenza, Parma, Mantua, Bergamo, and Modena, there are similar porches, and in the cathedral of Modena, the columns supporting the balcony at the entrance to the crypt are all on the backs of lions. The cathedral in Verona has been so altered through rebuilding and restoration that little of the original structure remains, but the apse of the choir, adorned with a closely arranged series of pilaster-strips, bases, and Corinthian capitals topped with a richly decorated entablature, is truly unique in its design.

Among circular buildings, the Rotonda at Brescia was at one time considered to date from the 8th century, owing to its massive construction and the simplicity and plainness of its external design. Later discoveries, however, have shown that the early date can only be given to the crypt of San Filasterio situated to the eastward of the Rotonda. The church of Santo Sepolcro at Bologna, as its name implies, is one of those reproductions of the church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem which were built by the Templars during the crusades. Of much earlier date is the circular church of San Tommaso-in-Limine, an early Lombard work of the 9th century, to which period belong also the baptisteries of Albenga, Arsago, Biella, Galliano and Asti. One of the most beautiful examples is the baptistery of Santa Maria at Gravedona, at the northern end of the lake of Como, built in black and white marble. The plan is unusual, and consists of a square with circular apses on three sides.

Among circular buildings, the Rotonda in Brescia used to be thought to date back to the 8th century, due to its sturdy construction and the simplicity of its external design. However, later discoveries have shown that this early date applies only to the crypt of San Filasterio located to the east of the Rotonda. The church of Santo Sepolcro in Bologna, as its name suggests, is one of the replicas of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem built by the Templars during the Crusades. Much earlier is the circular church of San Tommaso-in-Limine, an early Lombard structure from the 9th century, which also includes the baptisteries of Albenga, Arsago, Biella, Galliano, and Asti from that period. One of the most beautiful examples is the baptistery of Santa Maria in Gravedona, at the northern end of Lake Como, constructed in black and white marble. Its plan is unique, consisting of a square with circular apses on three sides.

Byzantine Romanesque.—Although in the first basilican church of St Mark at Venice, erected in 929 to receive the relics of the saint recovered from St Mark’s in Alexandria, the capitals of the columns and other decorative accessories showed Greek influence, its transformation into a five-domed Byzantine structure was not begun till about the middle of the 11th century. The date given by Cattanco is 1063, the same year in which the cathedral of Pisa was begun; it is probable, however, that the scheme had already been in contemplation for some years, as the problem was not an easy one to solve, owing to the restrictions of the site, and to the desire to reproduce in some way the leading features of the church of the Holy Apostles at Constantinople. This church was destroyed in 1464, but its description by Procopius is so clear, and corresponds so closely with St Mark’s, completed towards the end of the 11th century, as to leave little doubt about the source of its inspiration. From what has already been said with reference to the great changes made when it was proposed to vault the early Lombard basilican churches, those of equal importance which were carried out in St Mark’s will be better understood. The nave was divided into three square bays (fig. 37), with additional bays on the north and south to form transepts; the five square bays thus obtained were covered with domes carried on pendentives, as in St Sophia at Constantinople, and on wide transverse barrel vaults; the domes over the north and south transepts and the choir were of slightly less dimensions than those over the nave and crossing, in consequence of the limitations in area caused by the chapel of St Theodore on the north, the ducal palace on the south, and the ancient apse of the original basilica which it was desired to retain. In the reconstruction, many of the old columns, capitals and parapets were utilized again in the arcades carrying the galleries and in the balustrades over them. Externally the brick walls were decorated with blind arcades and niches of Lombard style, and all the roof vaults were covered with lead as in Constantinople. The subsequent decoration of the exterior took two centuries to carry out, not including the florid work of later date. There is no precedent in the East for the superimposed columns and capitals exported from Constantinople and Syria which now decorate the north, south and west fronts (Plate I., fig. 63), though the materials were all of the finest Byzantine type. Internally, the mosaic decoration of the domes, vaults and the upper part of the walls, was carried out by Greek artists from Constantinople, who probably also were employed for the marble panelling of the lower part of the walls. The marble casing of the front was certainly executed by Constantinopolitan artists, since the moulded string known as the “Venetian dentil” is a direct reproduction of that in St Sophia. At a later date the domes were all surmounted by lanterns in wood, covered with lead, and the roofs were all raised. So far, therefore, the building departs from its prototype, the church of the Apostles. A similar transformation took place in the church of Santa Fosca at Torcello, where a single large dome was contemplated over the centre of the original basilican church, but was never built. The cathedral of Torcello and the church at Murano are richly decorated with carved panels, capitals, choir screens and other features, either imported from the East or reproduced by Greek artists or Italians trained in the style. The influence of St Mark’s in this respect extended far and wide on the east coast of Italy; and at Pomposa, Ancona, and as far south as Brindisi, Byzantine details can be traced everywhere. The designs of the churches of San Ciriaco at Ancona and of Sant’ Antonio at Padua were both based on St Mark’s. Sant’ Antonio’s had six domes, there being two over the nave; and in all cases the domes were surmounted by domes in timber like those of St Mark’s.

Byzantine Romanesque.—Even though the first basilican church of St Mark in Venice, built in 929 to hold the relics of the saint brought back from St Mark’s in Alexandria, had columns and decorative elements influenced by Greek design, its actual transformation into a five-domed Byzantine structure didn't start until around the middle of the 11th century. Cattanco dates it to 1063, the same year the Pisa Cathedral began; however, it's likely that the plans had been considered for years, as the project was complicated due to site restrictions and the aim to replicate some key features of the church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople. This church was destroyed in 1464, but Procopius’s detailed description aligns closely with St Mark’s, which was finished toward the end of the 11th century, leaving little doubt about the source of inspiration. Considering the significant changes that took place during the vaulting of early Lombard basilican churches, the equally important modifications in St Mark’s will be clearer. The nave was divided into three square bays (fig. 37), with additional bays to the north and south creating transepts; these five square bays were topped with domes resting on pendentives, much like St Sophia in Constantinople, along with broad transverse barrel vaults. The domes over the north and south transepts and the choir were slightly smaller than those over the nave and crossing due to space limitations imposed by the chapel of St Theodore to the north, the ducal palace to the south, and the original basilica's ancient apse that was preserved. During reconstruction, many old columns, capitals, and parapets were reused in the arcades supporting the galleries and the balustrades above. Externally, the brick walls featured blind arcades and niches in the Lombard style, and all roof vaults were covered with lead, similar to those in Constantinople. The exterior decoration took two centuries to complete, not including later ornate additions. There are no eastern precedents for the superimposed columns and capitals brought from Constantinople and Syria that now adorn the north, south, and west fronts (Plate I., fig. 63), although the materials used were all of high Byzantine quality. Internally, the mosaic decoration of the domes, vaults, and upper wall sections was created by Greek artists from Constantinople, who likely also worked on the marble paneling of the lower walls. The marble front was definitely made by Constantinopolitan artists, as the moldings known as the “Venetian dentil” are direct replicas of those in St Sophia. Later, lanterns made of wood and covered with lead were added on top of all the domes, and the roofs were raised. Thus, the building strayed from its model, the church of the Apostles. A similar change occurred in the church of Santa Fosca in Torcello, where a large dome was planned over the center of the original basilican church but was never constructed. The Torcello Cathedral and the church in Murano are richly adorned with carved panels, capitals, choir screens, and other features, either sourced from the East or produced by Greek artists or Italians trained in that style. St Mark’s influence in this area reached far and wide along the east coast of Italy; at Pomposa, Ancona, and as far south as Brindisi, Byzantine details can be seen everywhere. The designs of the churches of San Ciriaco in Ancona and Sant’ Antonio in Padua were both inspired by St Mark’s. Sant’ Antonio’s featured six domes, with two over the nave; in all cases, the domes were topped with timber domes similar to those in St Mark’s.

From R.P. Spiers’s Architecture, East and West.
Fig. 37.—Plan of St Mark’s, Venice.

In domestic work, Venice is richer in Byzantine architecture than Constantinople, for with the exception of the Hebdomon palace the continual fires there have destroyed all the earlier palaces and houses. The Fondaco-dei-Turchi, built probably in the 11th century, is one of the most remarkable; the front on the great canal is 160 ft. long, having a lofty arcade with ten stilted arches on the ground storey and an arcade of eighteen arches above; the pavilion wings at the east end are in three storeys, with blind arcades and windows pierced in the central arcade. The whole was built in brick encased with marble, with panels or disks enriched with bas-reliefs or coloured marbles. A second example is found in the Palazzo Loredan, having 394 similar arcades, stilted arches and marble panelling; and there are two others, one on the Grand Canal and the other on the Rio-Cà-Foscari. Throughout Venice the decoration of these Byzantine palaces would seem to have influenced those of later date; for the Venetian dentil, interlaced scroll-work and string courses, with the Byzantine pendant leaf, are found intermingled with Gothic work, even down to the 15th century, and the same to a certain extent is found at Padua, Verona and Vicenza.

In domestic architecture, Venice has more Byzantine buildings than Constantinople, since, except for the Hebdomon palace, constant fires have destroyed all the earlier palaces and homes there. The Fondaco-dei-Turchi, likely built in the 11th century, is one of the most notable; its facade along the grand canal is 160 feet long, featuring a tall arcade with ten stilted arches on the ground floor and an arcade of eighteen arches above. The pavilion wings at the east end have three stories, with blind arcades and windows set in the central arcade. The entire structure is made of brick covered in marble, with panels or disks adorned with bas-reliefs or colored marbles. Another example is the Palazzo Loredan, which has similar arcades, stilted arches, and marble paneling; there are also two more, one on the Grand Canal and the other on the Rio-Cà-Foscari. Throughout Venice, the decorations of these Byzantine palaces seem to have influenced the later designs; for instance, Venetian dentils, interlaced scrollwork, and string courses, along with the Byzantine pendant leaf, can be found mixed with Gothic elements, continuing up until the 15th century, and to some extent, this influence is also seen in Padua, Verona, and Vicenza.

Central Romanesque.—The builders in the centre of Italy would seem to have followed more closely the Roman basilican plan, for in two of the earliest churches, Santa Maria Fuorcivitas at Lucca and San Paolo a Ripa d’Arno at Pisa, the T-shaped plan of St Peter’s and St Paul’s, with widely projecting transepts, was adopted; the difference also between the north and central developments is very marked, as in the place of the massive stone walls, compound piers, and internal and external buttresses deemed necessary to resist the thrusts of the great vaults, and the low clerestory of the northern churches, those in the south retain the light arcades with classic columns, the wooden roofs, and the high clerestory of the Roman basilicas. Instead of the vigorous sculpture of the Lombards in the Tuscan churches, marbles of various colours take its place, the carving being more refined in character and much quieter in effect.

Central Romanesque.—The builders in the center of Italy seemed to follow the Roman basilica plan more closely. In two of the earliest churches, Santa Maria Fuorcivitas in Lucca and San Paolo a Ripa d’Arno in Pisa, the T-shaped layout of St. Peter’s and St. Paul’s, with their widely projecting transepts, was used. The difference between the northern and central developments is quite striking; instead of the massive stone walls, compound piers, and internal and external buttresses needed to withstand the pressure of the large vaults, along with the low clerestory found in northern churches, the southern churches maintain the light arcades with classic columns, wooden roofs, and higher clerestories of the Roman basilicas. Rather than the robust sculpture of the Lombards in the Tuscan churches, colorful marbles take its place, with the carvings being more refined in style and much softer in effect.

The earliest church now existing is that of San Frediano at Lucca, dating from the end of the 7th century. Originally it was a five-aisled basilica, with an eastern apse, but when it was included within the walls in the 11th century the apse and the entrance doorway changed places, and a fine eaves-gallery was carried round the new apse; the outer aisles were also transformed into chapels. So many of the churches in Pisa and Lucca had new fronts given to them in the 11th or 12th century, that it is interesting to find, in the church of San Pietro-in-Grado at Pisa, an example in which the external decoration with pilaster strips and arched corbel tables is retained, showing that in the 9th century, when that church was built, the Lombard style prevailed there. Other early churches are those of San Casciano (9th century), San Nicola and San Frediano (1007), all in Pisa.

The oldest church still standing is San Frediano in Lucca, which dates back to the end of the 7th century. It was originally a five-aisled basilica with an eastern apse, but in the 11th century, when it was incorporated into the city walls, the apse and the entrance were switched, and an elegant eaves-gallery was added around the new apse; the outer aisles were also converted into chapels. Many churches in Pisa and Lucca received new facades in the 11th or 12th century, so it's notable that the church of San Pietro-in-Grado in Pisa retains its original external decoration with pilaster strips and arched corbel tables, indicating that the Lombard style was dominant when the church was built in the 9th century. Other early churches include San Casciano (9th century), San Nicola, and San Frediano (1007), all located in Pisa.

Of early foundation, but probably rebuilt in the 11th century, are two interesting churches in Toscanella, Santa Maria and San Pietro; they are both basilican on plan, but the easternmost bay is twice the width of the other arches of the arcade, and is divided from the nave by a triumphal arch. In both churches the floor of the transept is raised some feet above the nave, and a crypt occupies the whole space below it.

Of early origin, but likely rebuilt in the 11th century, are two interesting churches in Toscanella, Santa Maria and San Pietro; they are both basilica-shaped, but the easternmost bay is twice as wide as the other arches of the arcade, and is separated from the nave by a triumphal arch. In both churches, the floor of the transept is raised a few feet above the nave, with a crypt occupying the entire space below it.

One of the earliest and most perfect examples of this subdivision is the church of San Miniato, on a hill overlooking Florence. The church was rebuilt in 1013, and some of the Roman capitals of the earlier building are incorporated in the new one. It is divided into nave and aisles by an arcade of nine arches, and every third support consists of a compound pier with four semi-detached shafts, one of which, on each side of the nave, rises to the level of the summit of the arcade and carries a massive transverse arch to support the roof. The east end of the church, occupying the last three bays of the arcade, is raised 11 ft. above the floor of the nave, over a vaulted crypt extending the whole width of the church and carried under the eastern apse. The interior of the church, which is covered over with an open timber roof, painted in colour and gilded, is decorated with inlaid patterns of black and white marble of conventional design, and the same scheme is adopted in the main façade, enriching the panels of the blind arcade on the lower storey, and above an extremely classic design of Corinthian pilasters, entablature and pediment.

One of the earliest and most perfect examples of this type of architecture is the church of San Miniato, perched on a hill overlooking Florence. The church was rebuilt in 1013, and some of the Roman capitals from the earlier building are included in the new structure. It features a nave and aisles divided by an arcade of nine arches, with every third support made up of a compound pier that has four semi-detached shafts. One shaft on each side of the nave extends to the height of the arcade's summit and supports a large transverse arch that holds up the roof. The east end of the church, which encompasses the last three bays of the arcade, is elevated 11 ft. above the nave's floor and sits over a vaulted crypt that spans the entire width of the church, located beneath the eastern apse. The interior of the church is topped with an open timber roof that is painted and gilded, and it features decorative inlaid patterns of black and white marble in traditional designs. This same style is carried over to the main façade, enhancing the panels of the blind arcade on the lower level, and above that, there is an extremely classic design of Corinthian pilasters, entablature, and pediment.

As none of the façades of the Pisan churches was built before the middle of the 11th century, it is possible that Buschetto, the architect of the cathedral of Pisa, may have profited by the scheme suggested in the lower storey of San Miniato; if so he departed from its classic proportions. There are seven blind arcades in the lower storey of the Pisan cathedral, the arcades are loftier, and the position of the side doors which open into the inner aisle on each side is of much better effect. The cathedral was begun in 1063, the year following the brilliant capture of Palermo by the Pisans, when they returned in triumph with immense spoils. In plan it consists of a Latin cross, with double aisles on either side of the nave extending to the east end, a central apse, transepts with single aisles on each side, and north and south transepted apses (fig. 38). The nave arcade, with its Corinthian capitals and monolith stone columns, is of exceptional boldness, and as it is carried across the transept up to the east end (a length of 320 ft.) it forms a continuous line greater than that in any other cathedral. The crossing is covered by a dome, elliptical on plan, being from east to west the length of the transept and aisles. The result is unfortunate, and detracts both externally and internally from its beauty, otherwise the exterior decoration, which must have been schemed out in its entirety from the beginning (with the exception of the dome, which is of later design), has the most satisfactory and pleasing effect. The lofty blind arcade of the lower storey and the open gallery above on the façade (the latter represented by a blind arcade), are carried round the whole building, and the horizontal lines of the galleries of the upper storeys accord with the roofs of the aisles and nave respectively and the blind arcade of the clerestory. The walls are faced within and without with white and grey marble, and the combination of sculpture and inlay which enriches the arcades of the façades gives an additional attraction to the building. The cathedral is sometimes quoted as Byzantine in style, but its plan and design are of widely different character from those of any building found in the East, and the mosaics, which constitute the finest decorative element in that style, were not added till the 14th century, and formed no part of the architect Buschetto’s scheme.

As none of the façades of the Pisan churches were built before the middle of the 11th century, it’s possible that Buschetto, the architect of the Pisa Cathedral, may have taken inspiration from the design in the lower level of San Miniato; if so, he moved away from its classical proportions. The lower level of the Pisan cathedral features seven blind arcades that are taller, and the placement of the side doors opening into the inner aisle on each side creates a much better effect. The cathedral was started in 1063, the year after the Pisans' impressive capture of Palermo, when they returned in triumph with enormous spoils. The layout consists of a Latin cross, with double aisles on either side of the nave extending to the east end, a central apse, transepts with single aisles on each side, and north and south transepted apses (fig. 38). The nave arcade, with its Corinthian capitals and monolith stone columns, is remarkably bold, and as it spans the transept all the way to the east end (a length of 320 ft.), it forms a continuous line longer than any other cathedral. The crossing is topped with a dome that's elliptical in shape, extending from east to west the length of the transept and aisles. This design choice is unfortunate, as it detracts from both the external and internal beauty of the cathedral; otherwise, the exterior decoration, which must have been planned entirely from the start (except for the dome, which is of a later design), has a very satisfying and pleasing effect. The tall blind arcade of the lower level and the open gallery above on the façade (the latter represented as a blind arcade) wrap around the entire building, and the horizontal lines of the upper storeys' galleries align with the roofs of the aisles and nave, as well as the blind arcade of the clerestory. The walls are faced both inside and out with white and grey marble, and the combination of sculpture and inlay that adorns the façades adds extra appeal to the structure. The cathedral is sometimes referred to as Byzantine in style, but its layout and design are quite different from any building found in the East, and the mosaics, which are the finest decorative feature of that style, were not added until the 14th century and were not part of architect Buschetto’s original design.

The Baptistery, begun in 1153, was not completed till towards the close of the 13th century, when important alterations were made in the design to bring it into accordance with the new Gothic style. The crocketed gables, and the upper gallery, substituted for the arcades, which followed on the lines of those in the cathedral, have taken away the quiet repose found in the latter; the lower storey, however, with its lofty blind arcades, similar to those of the cathedral, and the principal doorway, are of great beauty. The central area of the baptistery, which is surrounded by aisles and triforium gallery, is covered by a conical dome; internally as well as externally this can never have been a beautiful feature, and the additions of the 13th century have made it one of the ugliest roofs in existence.

The Baptistery, which started construction in 1153, wasn’t finished until the end of the 13th century, when significant changes were made to its design to align it with the new Gothic style. The pointed gables and the upper gallery, which replaced the arcades that followed the design of the cathedral, have taken away the serene calm of the latter. However, the lower level, with its tall blind arcades similar to those of the cathedral, and the main doorway, are really beautiful. The main area of the baptistery, surrounded by aisles and a triforium gallery, has a conical dome on top; both inside and out, it has never been a stunning feature, and the 13th-century additions have made it one of the most unattractive roofs around.

Fig. 38. PISA.

The Campanile or leaning tower was begun in 1174. Owing, however, to the treacherous nature of the ground, the piles driven in to support the tower gave way on the south side, so that, when only 35 ft. above the ground, a settlement was noticed, and slight additions in height were made from time to time in order to obtain a horizontal level for the stone courses; but this was without avail, and on the completion of the third gallery above the ground storey the work was suspended for many years. In 1350 it was recommenced, three more gallery storeys were added, and the upper or belfry stage was set back in the inner wall. The tower is now 178 ft. high, and overhangs nearly 14 ft. on the south side; its design is made to harmonize with the cathedral, but shows much less refinement and grace.

The Campanile, or leaning tower, was started in 1174. However, due to the unstable ground, the support piles on the south side failed, leading to noticeable settlement when it was only 35 feet tall. To try to achieve a horizontal level for the stone courses, slight height increases were made over time, but these efforts were unsuccessful. After the third level was completed, construction was halted for many years. In 1350, work resumed, three more gallery levels were added, and the upper belfry stage was set back into the inner wall. The tower now stands at 178 feet high and leans nearly 14 feet on the south side. Its design was intended to match the cathedral, but it displays considerably less sophistication and elegance.

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The Campo Santo, an immense rectangular court 350 ft. long by 70 ft. wide, surrounded by a cloister 35 ft. wide, was begun in 1280; the details are refined, but the poverty in the design of the tracery with which the arcades were fitted in at a much later date detracts from its interest, which is now mainly concerned with the beautiful frescoes which decorate its walls.

The Campo Santo, a large rectangular courtyard 350 ft. long and 70 ft. wide, surrounded by a 35 ft. wide cloister, was started in 1280. The details are elaborate, but the simplicity in the design of the tracery added to the arcades later on takes away from its appeal, which is now primarily focused on the beautiful frescoes that adorn its walls.

As might have been expected, the cathedral of Pisa set the model not only for the restoration of existing churches but also for new ones, in Pisa itself and also at Lucca, Pistoia and Prato. In Pisa, the church of San Paolo a Ripa d’Arno was rebuilt about 1060, possibly by the architect of the cathedral; San Pietro-in-Vincoli and San Nicola date from the early years of the 12th century. At Lucca the churches of Santa Giuha, San Giusto, San Martino, San Michele, and the restored front of Santa Maria Fuorcivitas, are the principal examples in which the Pisan cathedral has suggested the design, and at Pistoia we can point to the cathedral, Sant’ Andrea, San Pietro and San Giovanni Fuorcivitas, the latter with a south wall decorated with three stages of blind arcades of great richness. The cathedral of Lucca was either restored or rebuilt at the beginning of the 14th century, and has a distinctly Gothic effect. The lower storey of the façade presents the unusual feature of an open porch across the whole front with three great archways. This porch with the three galleries above was added to the cathedral at the beginning of the 13th century.

As expected, the cathedral of Pisa set the standard not only for restoring existing churches but also for building new ones, both in Pisa and in Lucca, Pistoia, and Prato. In Pisa, the church of San Paolo a Ripa d’Arno was rebuilt around 1060, possibly by the architect of the cathedral; San Pietro-in-Vincoli and San Nicola were built in the early years of the 12th century. In Lucca, the churches of Santa Giuva, San Giusto, San Martino, San Michele, and the restored front of Santa Maria Fuorcivitas are the main examples where the design was influenced by the Pisan cathedral. In Pistoia, we can point to the cathedral, Sant’ Andrea, San Pietro, and San Giovanni Fuorcivitas, the latter featuring a south wall adorned with three stages of elaborate blind arcades. The cathedral of Lucca was either restored or rebuilt at the beginning of the 14th century, exhibiting a distinctly Gothic style. The lower level of the façade has the unique feature of an open porch stretching across the entire front with three large archways. This porch, along with the three galleries above it, was added to the cathedral in the early 13th century.

Southern Romanesque.—The influences exerted in the early development of the Romanesque style in the south of Italy are much more complicated than in the north, since two new elements come into the field, the Norman and Saracenic. Of early work very little remains, owing to the general rebuilding in the 11th century; what is more remarkable, there is scarcely any trace of the result of the Byzantine occupation for so many centuries; the only exception being the church of San Gregorio at Bari, a small basilican structure in which the arches of the arcades separating the nave from the aisles are stilted like those of the Fondaco-dei-Turchi at Venice.

Southern Romanesque.—The influences that shaped the early development of the Romanesque style in southern Italy are much more complex than in the north, as two new elements are introduced: the Norman and the Saracenic. Very little of the early work has survived due to widespread rebuilding in the 11th century; notably, there is hardly any evidence of the Byzantine occupation that lasted for so many centuries. The only exception is the church of San Gregorio at Bari, a small basilican structure featuring stilted arches in the arcades that separate the nave from the aisles, resembling those of the Fondaco-dei-Turchi in Venice.

Fig. 39.—Plan of S. Nicola at Bari.

One of the chief characteristics noticeable in the plan is the almost universal adoption of a transept projecting north and south slightly beyond the aisle walls, and in some cases raised over a crypt, as in the churches at Toscanella. Since, however, there is no choir bay, and the central apse opens direct into the transept, the plan is not that of the Latin cross. The most complete development of this arrangement is found in the cathedral and in the church of San Nicola at Bari (fig. 39); both being basilican churches with a triumphal arch opening into the transept,—in this respect similar to the churches of St Peter and St Paul at Rome, except that the transepts project only slightly, beyond the aisles. There is one peculiarity in both these churches, as also in that of the cathedral at Molfetta. East of the transept, and at the north and south sides, are towers, between which is carried a wall which hides the apse, the only indication of its existence being the round arched window which lights it. A similar arrangement exists in the cathedrals of Giovenazzo, Bitetto and Bitonto. The central bay of the transept of the cathedral at Bari is surmounted by an octagonal drum, the dome within which is carried on squinches; a similar dome was projected in San Nicola, but never built. In the cathedral at Bari, as also in San Nicola, the lofty nave is covered with a timber roof, and has an arcade on the ground storey and a fine triforium and clerestory windows above.

One of the main features noticeable in the design is the almost universal use of a transept that extends slightly north and south beyond the aisle walls, and in some instances, is raised over a crypt, as seen in the churches at Toscanella. However, since there is no choir bay, and the central apse opens directly into the transept, the design doesn't follow the Latin cross layout. The most complete version of this setup is found in the cathedral and in the church of San Nicola at Bari (fig. 39); both of these are basilican churches with a triumphal arch leading into the transept—this aspect is similar to the churches of St. Peter and St. Paul in Rome, except the transepts only extend slightly beyond the aisles. There’s a unique feature in both these churches, as well as in the cathedral at Molfetta. To the east of the transept, on the north and south sides, there are towers, between which a wall is built that conceals the apse, the only sign of its existence being the round arched window that illuminates it. A similar structure can be found in the cathedrals of Giovenazzo, Bitetto, and Bitonto. The central bay of the transept in the cathedral at Bari is topped with an octagonal drum, which supports a dome that rests on squinches; a similar dome was planned for San Nicola but was never constructed. In both the cathedral at Bari and San Nicola, the tall nave is covered with a timber roof and features an arcade on the ground floor, along with an impressive triforium and clerestory windows above.

Externally these churches depend for their effect more on their fine masonry than on any decorative treatment; the blind arcades of the lower storey have very little projection, and the pilaster strips which in the Lombard churches break up the wall surface are not found here; the arched corbel table is freely employed but rarely the open gallery. There is one remarkable example in Bitonto cathedral; above the aisle chapels, and approached from the triforium, is an open gallery, the arches of which rest on widely projecting capitals sculptured with animals and foliage, half Lombardic and half Byzantine in style. The small shafto supporting these capitals are of infinite variety of design, with spirals, chevrons, fluting and vertical mouldings of many kinds.

These churches depend more on their beautiful stone work than on any decorative features. The blind arcades on the lower level do not stick out much, and the pilaster strips that break up the wall in Lombard churches aren't seen here. The arched corbel table is used freely, but the open gallery is rare. One notable example can be found in Bitonto Cathedral; above the aisle chapels and accessible from the triforium, there's an open gallery with arches resting on widely extending capitals adorned with animal and foliage carvings, blending Lombard and Byzantine styles. The small shafts supporting these capitals come in a stunning variety of designs, featuring spirals, chevrons, fluting, and many types of vertical moldings.

The cathedral at Molfetta is in plan quite different from those already described, and consists of square bays with aisles, transept and apse, having domes over the nave and crossing. The Byzantine influence here comes in, but it is much more pronounced in La Cattohca at Stilo, a small church square on plan with four columns carrying the superstructure, which consists of a central and four domes on the angles. Other domed churches are those of the Immaculata at Trani; San Sabino, Canosa; and San Marco, Rossano. The lower part of the cathedral at Troja shows the direct influence of the cathedral at Pisa. The cathedral at Trani has the same plan as the churches at Bari, except that the earlier apses are not enclosed. The cathedral of Salerno retains still the fine atrium by Robert Guiscard in 1077. In the cathedrals of Acerenza, Aversa and Venosa, the French chevet was introduced towards the end of the 12th century.

The cathedral in Molfetta has a layout that’s quite different from those previously mentioned. It features square bays with aisles, a transept, and an apse, topped with domes over the nave and crossing. The Byzantine influence is present, but it’s even stronger in La Cattohca at Stilo, a small church with a square layout supported by four columns, which hold up a structure featuring a central dome and four corner domes. Other domed churches include the Immaculata in Trani, San Sabino in Canosa, and San Marco in Rossano. The lower section of the cathedral in Troja directly reflects the influence of the cathedral in Pisa. The cathedral in Trani shares the same layout as the churches in Bari, but the earlier apses are not enclosed. The cathedral in Salerno still has the beautiful atrium built by Robert Guiscard in 1077. In the cathedrals of Acerenza, Aversa, and Venosa, the French chevet was introduced in the late 12th century.

In the magnificent octagonal tower which encloses the dome on the crossing in the cathedral of Caserta-Vecchia, we find the interlacing blind arcades of the Norman architecture in Sicily, as also in the cathedral at Amalfi. The porches, entrance doorways and windows being the chief decorative feature of the south Italian churches, were enriched with splendid sculptures. So were the pulpits of the cathedrals of Sessa, Ravello, Salerno and Troja, the rich mosaic inlays at Sessa, Ravello and Salerno according in design with the Cosmati work in Rome, though they possibly had an earlier origin in Sicily.

In the impressive octagonal tower that surrounds the dome at the crossing in the cathedral of Caserta-Vecchia, we see the interwoven blind arches characteristic of Norman architecture in Sicily, similar to those found in the cathedral at Amalfi. The porches, entrance doorways, and windows, being the main decorative elements of southern Italian churches, were adorned with beautiful sculptures. The pulpits of the cathedrals in Sessa, Ravello, Salerno, and Troja were also richly decorated, and the intricate mosaic inlays in Sessa, Ravello, and Salerno shared designs with the Cosmati work in Rome, although they likely have earlier roots in Sicily.

Sicilian Romanesque.—Although the earliest remains in Sicily date from the Norman occupation of the island, they are so permeated with Saracenic detail as to leave no doubt that the conqueror employed the native workmen, who for two centuries at all events had been building for the Mahommedans, and therefore, whether Arab or Greek, had been reproducing the same style as that found in Egypt or North Africa.

Sicilian Romanesque.—The earliest remains in Sicily are from the time of the Norman occupation, but they are so filled with Saracenic details that it's clear the conquerors hired local workers. For at least two centuries, these workers had been constructing buildings for the Muslims, so whether they were Arab or Greek, they were creating the same style seen in Egypt or North Africa.

It is possible that, so far as the Norman palaces of the 12th century are concerned, they were based on those built under the Saracenic rule, but the requirements of a mosque and of a church are entirely different, and therefore in the earliest church existing (San Giovanni-dei-Leprosi, at Palermo, built by Robert Guiscard in A.D. 1071) we find a completely developed Christian structure, having nave, aisles and transepts, with a dome over the crossing and three apses. The next church, at Troina (1078), was similar on plan, but had three square wings at the east end instead of apses. The next two churches, La Martorana and San Cataldo (1129), at Palermo, followed the plan of the Greek church, with four columns carrying the superstructure and three domes over the nave bays carried on Saracenic squinches, similar to those in San Giovanni-dei-Leprosi. San Giovanni-degli-Eremiti (T-shaped on plan) has no aisles, but carries domes over the nave and three smaller domes on the transept. The most important feature found in all these churches is the pointed arch, of Saracenic origin imported from the East, which was employed for the nave, arcades, the crossing, and in the squinches carrying the domes. The blind arcades which decorate the walls of San Cataldo and of the Norman palaces—La Favara, the Torre della Ninfa, La Ziza and La Cuba (all in or near Palermo),—in two or three orders, and sometimes (as in the Favara palace) of great height, have all pointed arches and no impost mouldings or capitals. The distinguishing characteristic of these blind arcades (and the same is found in the open arcades) is the very slight projection of the outer order of arch.

It’s possible that, in terms of the Norman palaces from the 12th century, they were inspired by those built during the Saracenic rule, but the needs of a mosque and a church are completely different. Therefore, in the earliest existing church (San Giovanni-dei-Leprosi, in Palermo, built by Robert Guiscard in CE 1071), we have a fully developed Christian structure that includes a nave, aisles, and transepts, with a dome over the crossing and three apses. The next church, located in Troina (1078), was similar in layout but featured three square wings at the east end instead of apses. The following two churches, La Martorana and San Cataldo (1129), also in Palermo, adopted the layout of the Greek church, utilizing four columns to support the structure and three domes over the nave bays, which rested on Saracenic squinches similar to those found in San Giovanni-dei-Leprosi. San Giovanni-degli-Eremiti (T-shaped in design) doesn’t have aisles but has domes over the nave and three smaller domes on the transept. The most significant feature present in all these churches is the pointed arch, of Saracenic origin brought in from the East, used for the nave, arcades, the crossing, and in the squinches supporting the domes. The blind arcades that embellish the walls of San Cataldo and the Norman palaces—La Favara, Torre della Ninfa, La Ziza, and La Cuba (all in or near Palermo)—display two or three stories and sometimes (as in the Favara palace) are quite tall. They all feature pointed arches with no impost mouldings or capitals. The distinctive aspect of these blind arcades (which is also seen in the open arcades) is the very minimal projection of the outer order of the arch.

The finest early example of Norman architecture in Sicily is the Cappella Palatina, at Palermo, consecrated in 1140, and attached to the palace. The plan consists of nave, aisles, transept and triple apse, the arches, all pointed and stilted, being carried on monolith columns of granite and marble alternately. The nave is covered over with a timber roof with stalactitic coves and coffered ceiling, richly decorated in colour and gilded, the borders of the panels bearing Arabic inscriptions in Cufic characters. Similar inscriptions exist on the upper part of the walls of the Cuba and Ziza palaces, proving that they were built by Saracenic workmen. The plans of the cathedrals of Palermo, Messina (destroyed 1908), Cefalu and Monreale are all similar, with nave and aisles separated by arcades, in which the arches are all pointed and stilted, transepts projecting north and south beyond the aisle walls, and square bays beyond, with apsidal terminations. That of Palermo has much suffered from restorations, but the cathedral of Monreale is in perfect condition. It was begun in 1176 and consecrated in 1182. The proportions of the arcade are much finer than in the Cappella Palatina, where the stilted arch was of the same height as the shaft of the columns, whereas here it is only half the height. The columns are all of granite with extremely fine capitals, some of which were taken from ancient buildings. All the roofs are in wood, with coffered ceilings richly decorated in gold and colour. The walls to a height of 22 ft. are all lined with slabs of marble with mosaic friezes, and all the surfaces of walls and arches are covered above with mosaics representing scenes from the Old and New Testaments, while in the apse at the east end a gigantic figure of Christ dominates the whole church. The same is found at Cefalu, where the mosaic decorations, however, are confined to the apses. Externally the walls are comparatively plain, the decoration being confined to the east end, where the three apses are covered with a series of blind intersecting arcades of pointed arches. This class of enrichment prevails throughout the great Sicilian churches, and extends sometimes to the smaller churches, as that of the Chiesa-dei-Vespri. Of the conventual buildings attached to the cathedral of Monreale, which occupied an immense site, there remain only the cloisters, about 140 ft. square, enclosed by an arcade with pointed arches carried on coupled columns, the shafts of which are elaborately carved and inlaid with 396 mosaic; the capitals are of the most varied design and of exquisite execution.

The best early example of Norman architecture in Sicily is the Cappella Palatina in Palermo, consecrated in 1140 and attached to the palace. The layout includes a nave, aisles, a transept, and a triple apse, with pointed and stilted arches supported by alternating granite and marble monolith columns. The nave has a timber roof featuring stalactitic coves and a coffered ceiling, richly decorated in color and gilded, with the panel borders bearing Arabic inscriptions in Cufic script. Similar inscriptions are found on the upper walls of the Cuba and Ziza palaces, indicating they were built by Saracenic craftsmen. The plans for the cathedrals of Palermo, Messina (destroyed in 1908), Cefalu, and Monreale are all similar, with nave and aisles separated by arcades, all having pointed and stilted arches, transepts projecting north and south beyond the aisle walls, and square bays with apsidal ends. The Palermo cathedral has suffered significantly from restorations, but the Monreale cathedral is in perfect condition. It started being built in 1176 and was consecrated in 1182. The proportions of the arcade are much nicer than those in the Cappella Palatina, where the stilted arch matched the height of the column shaft, while here it is only half the height. The columns are all granite with very fine capitals, some taken from ancient buildings. All roofs are wooden, with coffered ceilings richly decorated in gold and color. The walls, up to 22 feet high, are lined with marble slabs and mosaic friezes, and all wall and arch surfaces are covered above with mosaics depicting scenes from the Old and New Testaments, with a gigantic figure of Christ dominating the apse at the east end. The same can be seen at Cefalu, where the mosaic decorations are limited to the apses, though. Externally, the walls are relatively plain, with decoration limited to the east end, where the three apses are covered with a series of blind intersecting arcades of pointed arches. This style of embellishment is common throughout the major Sicilian churches and sometimes extends to smaller churches like the Chiesa-dei-Vespri. Of the conventual buildings attached to the Monreale cathedral, which occupied a vast area, only the cloisters remain, about 140 feet square, surrounded by an arcade with pointed arches supported by paired columns, whose shafts are intricately carved and inlaid with mosaic; the capitals are of varied designs and exquisite craftsmanship.

Italian Gothic.—Italy is poorer than any other country in examples of the transition from round arched to pointed arched buildings. The use of the pointed arch was accepted at last as a necessity, and cannot be said ever to have been welcomed. The first buildings in which it is seen worked out fully in detail are those of Niccola Pisano, and but few examples exist of good Gothic work earlier than his time. The elaborately arcaded and sculptured west front of Ferrara cathedral is a screen to an early building. The cathedral and other churches at Genoa are certainly exquisite works, but they appear to owe their internal design rather to the influence of (perhaps) Sicilian taste than north Italian, and the exquisite beauty of the west front owes a good deal, at any rate, to French influence, softened, refined and decorated by the extreme taste of an Italian architect. The feature which most marks all Italian Gothic is the indifference to the true use of the pointed arch. Everywhere arches were constructed which could not have stood for a day had they not been held together by iron rods. There was none of that sense of the unities of art which made a northerner so jealous to maintain the proper relations of all parts of his structure. In Niccola Pisano’s works the arch mould rarely fits the capital on which it rests. The proportions of buttresses to the apparent work to be done by them are bad and clumsy. The window traceries look like bad copies of some northern tracery, only once seen in a hurry by an indifferent workman. There is no life, or development, or progress in the work. If we look at the ground-plans of Italian Gothic churches, we shall find nothing whatever to delight us. The columns are widely spaced, so as to diminish the number of vaulting bays, and to make the proportions of the oblong aisle vaulting bay very ungainly. Clustered shafts are almost unknown, the columns being plain cylinders with poorly sculptured capitals. There are no triforium galleries, and the clerestory is generally very insignificant. In short, a comparison of the best Gothic works in Italy with the most moderate French or English work would show at once how vast its inferiority must be allowed to be. Still there were beauties which ought not to be forgotten or passed over. Such were the beautiful cloisters, whose arcades are carried on delicate coupled shafts,—e.g. in St John Lateran and St Paul’s at Rome. Such also were the porches and monuments at Verona and elsewhere; and the campaniles,—both those in Rome, divided by a number of string-courses into a number of storeys, and those of the north, where there are hardly any horizontal divisions, and the whole effort is to give an unbroken vertical effect; or that unequalled campanile, the tower of the cathedral at Florence by Giotto, where one sees in ordered proportion, accurately adjusted, line upon line, and storey upon storey, perhaps the most carefully wrought-out work in all Europe.

Italian Gothic.—Italy has fewer examples than any other country of the shift from round arches to pointed arches in architecture. The pointed arch was ultimately accepted out of necessity, but it was never truly embraced. The first buildings where it appears fully detailed are those by Niccola Pisano, and there are few examples of good Gothic work prior to his era. The intricately designed and decorated west front of Ferrara Cathedral conceals an earlier structure. The cathedral and other churches in Genoa are definitely exquisite creations, but their internal design seems to be influenced more by (perhaps) Sicilian tastes rather than north Italian ones. The stunning beauty of the west front owes much to French influence, which has been softened, refined, and embellished by an Italian architect's exceptional taste. The most notable aspect of Italian Gothic is its disregard for the proper use of the pointed arch. Arches were constructed everywhere that wouldn't have lasted a day without being held together by iron rods. There was none of the cohesive artistic vision that made northern architects so determined to maintain the correct relationships among all parts of their structures. In Niccola Pisano’s works, the arch mold seldom aligns well with the capital it rests on. The proportions of the buttresses in relation to their intended support are awkward and clumsy. The window tracery resembles poor imitations of northern designs, hastily created by an indifferent craftsman. There's a lack of life, development, or progress evident in the work. If we examine the floor plans of Italian Gothic churches, we find nothing particularly pleasing. The columns are spaced far apart to reduce the number of vaulting bays, resulting in awkward proportions for the elongated aisle vaulting bays. Clustered shafts are almost nonexistent, with columns being simple cylinders topped with poorly sculpted capitals. There are no triforium galleries, and the clerestory is typically quite unimpressive. In summary, comparing the best Gothic works in Italy with even the most modest French or English examples clearly reveals their significant inferiority. Yet, there were beauties that should not be overlooked. These include the lovely cloisters, where delicate paired shafts support the arcades—for instance, in St. John Lateran and St. Paul’s in Rome. Also noteworthy are the porches and monuments in Verona and other places, along with the campaniles—in Rome, divided by multiple string courses into several stories, and those in the north that lack horizontal divisions, aiming for an uninterrupted vertical effect; or that unmatched campanile, the tower of the cathedral in Florence by Giotto, showcasing perfectly ordered proportions and precise adjustments, perhaps the most meticulously crafted work in all of Europe.

The Italian architects were before all others devoted to the display of colour in their works. St Mark’s had led the way in this, but, throughout the peninsula, the bountiful plenty of nature in the provision of materials was seconded by the zeal of the artist. They were also distinguished for their use of brick. Just as in parts of Germany, France, Spain and England, there were large districts in which no stone could be had without the greatest labour and trouble; and here the reality and readiness which always marked the medieval workman led to his at once availing himself of the natural material, and making a feature of his brickwork.

The Italian architects were especially dedicated to showcasing color in their designs. St. Mark’s set a precedent for this, but across the peninsula, the abundant resources provided by nature were complemented by the artist's enthusiasm. They were also known for their use of brick. Just like in certain areas of Germany, France, Spain, and England, there were large regions where acquiring stone was incredibly labor-intensive and difficult; here, the practicality and efficiency of the medieval craftsmen meant they made the most of the available materials and emphasized their brickwork as a key feature.

The Gothic of Italy has, it must be admitted, no such grand works to show as more northern countries have. Allowance has to be made at every turn for some incompleteness or awkwardness of plan, design or construction. There is no attempt to emulate the beauties of the best French plans. Milan cathedral, magnificent as its scale and material make it, is clumsy and awkward both in plan and section, though its vast size makes it impressive internally. San Francesco, Assisi, is only a moderately good early German Gothic church, converted into splendour by its painted decorations. At Orvieto a splendid west front is put, without any proper adjustment, against a church whose merit is mainly that it is large and in parts beautifully coloured.

The Gothic architecture in Italy doesn't have the same impressive works as those found in northern countries. Every aspect seems to have some level of incompleteness or awkwardness in the design, layout, or construction. There’s no effort to match the beauty of the top French designs. The Milan Cathedral, as grand as it is in size and materials, feels clumsy and awkward in both its layout and elevation, though its enormous scale does make it striking inside. The San Francesco church in Assisi is just a fairly decent early German Gothic church, which is made more splendid by its painted decorations. At Orvieto, a striking west front is placed awkwardly against a church that is mainly large, with beautiful colors in some sections.

The finest Gothic interiors are of the class of which the Frari at Venice and Sant’ Anastasia at Verona are examples. They are simple vaulted cruciform churches, with aisles and chapels on the east side of the transepts. But even in these the designs of the various parts in detail are poor and meagre, and only redeemed from failure by the picturesque monuments built against their walls, by the work of the painter, and by their furniture. In fine, Gothic art was never really understood in Italy, and, consequently, never reached to perfection.

The best Gothic interiors are represented by the Frari in Venice and Sant’ Anastasia in Verona. They are straightforward vaulted churches in a cross shape, featuring aisles and chapels on the east side of the transepts. However, even in these buildings, the detailed designs of different parts are lacking and simplistic, only saved from being disappointing by the striking monuments placed against their walls, the work of artists, and their furnishings. In short, Gothic art was never fully grasped in Italy and, as a result, never achieved perfection.

Whilst the Pointed style was almost exclusively known and practised in northern Europe, the Italians were but slowly improving in their Gothic style; and the improvement was more evinced in their secular than in their ecclesiastical structures. Florence, Bologna, Vicenza, Udine, Genoa, and, above all, Venice, contain palaces and mansions of the 12th, 13th, 14th and 15th centuries, which for simplicity, utility and beauty far excel most of those in the same and other places of the three following centuries. The contemporary churches do not exhibit the same degree of improvement in style that is conspicuous in these domestic works, for there are no works in Europe more worthy of study and admiration than the Ducal Palace at Venice, and some of the older works of the same class, and even of earlier date. The town halls of Perugia, Piacenza and Siena, and many houses in these cities, and at Corneto, Amalfi, Asti, Orvieto and Lucca, the fountains of Perugia and Viterbo, and the monuments at Bologna, Verona and Arezzo, may be named as evidence of the interest which the national art affords to the architectural student even in Italy, as late as the end of the 14th century; but after this it gradually gave way to the new style, though in some instances its influence may be traced even when it had been overborne by it.

While the Pointed style was mainly recognized and practiced in northern Europe, Italians were slowly making progress in their Gothic style; this improvement was more evident in their secular buildings than in their religious ones. Florence, Bologna, Vicenza, Udine, Genoa, and especially Venice, have palaces and mansions from the 12th, 13th, 14th, and 15th centuries that far surpass most of those from the same and the following three centuries in terms of simplicity, utility, and beauty. The churches from this period don't show the same level of improvement in style as these domestic buildings do; there are no structures in Europe more worthy of study and admiration than the Ducal Palace in Venice and some of the older buildings of the same type, as well as those of earlier dates. The town halls of Perugia, Piacenza, and Siena, along with many houses in these cities and in Corneto, Amalfi, Asti, Orvieto, and Lucca, the fountains of Perugia and Viterbo, and the monuments in Bologna, Verona, and Arezzo, demonstrate the interest that national art holds for architectural students in Italy, even as late as the end of the 14th century; however, after this period, it gradually yielded to the new style, although its influence can still be seen in some instances even after being overtaken by it.

(R. P. S.)

Romanesque and Gothic Architecture in France

Romanesque and Gothic Architecture in France

Most generally, Romanesque art is thought of as that period of art which followed and partook of the nature of Roman art and yet was too far removed from it to be classed as Roman. The difference, however, was not merely one of decay; it is rather in positive factors that we shall find the true characteristics of the style. Its formation was parallel to the development of the Romance languages, and like them it acquired barbaric elements.

Most commonly, Romanesque art is seen as the period of art that came after and shared some qualities of Roman art, yet was distinct enough to not be classified as Roman. However, the difference wasn't just about decline; the true characteristics of the style can be found in its positive aspects. Its development occurred alongside the evolution of the Romance languages, and like those languages, it incorporated elements from barbaric cultures.

In Rome itself hardly any, if any, contributions were made to its growth, and there as late as the 12th century the early Christian form of basilican church continued to be built. It may, perhaps, best be conceived as a Germano-Roman product, for even in Spain and north Italy, which became such strong centres of the art, the Visigoths and Lombards provided the Teutonic element. Besides this change of “blood” in the style, there is another element of change in the influences obtained from the more rapidly developed art of the East. This influence indeed was so strong and constant that, having it in view, we might almost describe the Romanesque style as Germano-Byzantine.

In Rome itself, there were hardly any contributions, if any, to its growth, and as late as the 12th century, the early Christian style of basilican church continued to be built. It can be best understood as a mix of Germanic and Roman influences, since even in Spain and Northern Italy, which became major centers of the art, the Visigoths and Lombards contributed the Teutonic element. Along with this shift in "heritage" in the style, there's another aspect of change with influences coming from the more rapidly evolving art of the East. This influence was so strong and consistent that, keeping it in mind, we could almost describe the Romanesque style as Germano-Byzantine.

In the 6th and 7th centuries we have, on the one hand, the almost pure traditional early Christian art of Rome and indeed of western Europe, and on the other the direct establishment of matured Byzantine art at Ravenna, Parenzo, Naples and even in Rome. Then followed the mixture of these and of barbaric elements in the formation of several pre-Romanesque varieties, one of which has been named Italo-Byzantine. It was not until the age of Charlemagne that a centre was established strong enough for the formation of a new western school which should persist. From this time a progressive style was developed which led straight forward to the Gothic, and it is this movement which is best called Romanesque. This art was a perfect ferment of striving and experiment, of gathering and even of research; Roman, Byzantine and Saxon elements entered into its composition. It is probable also, as a result of Saracenic pressure on Syria, Asia Minor, North Africa and Spain, that artists, “bringing their crafts with them,” drew together from still remoter parts to gain the protection of the great ruler of the West and to help in the formation of Carolingian art. With the disintegration of the empire of Charlemagne many local schools arose in Germany, France and Lombardy, which—especially after the year 1000, when there appears to have been a renewed burst of building energy—resulted in considerable differentiation of styles. The centre of energy seems to have been now here, now there, yet with all the differences there was a general resemblance over the whole field. Until the exact date of a very large number of monuments is more perfectly established, it will be impossible to trace out exactly the intricate windings of the line of advance. In fact there are two conflicting sides to the question presented by Romanesque art. In the first place we have to consider the several schools in regard to a standard of absolute attainment, and in the second as relative to the line of persistence and to the formation of Gothic, which was so largely the culmination, and then the decay, of the forces present in Romanesque art. Some of the most beautiful and complete of the Romanesque schools contributed least, some of the most inchoate gave the most, to that which was to be.

In the 6th and 7th centuries, we see, on one side, the nearly pure traditional early Christian art of Rome and western Europe, and on the other, the direct establishment of advanced Byzantine art in Ravenna, Parenzo, Naples, and even Rome. This was followed by a mix of these styles and barbaric elements, leading to several pre-Romanesque varieties, one of which is called Italo-Byzantine. It wasn’t until the time of Charlemagne that a strong enough center emerged to establish a new western school that would endure. From this point, a progressive style developed that directly led to Gothic, and this movement is best referred to as Romanesque. This art was a perfect blend of striving and experimentation, gathering, and even research; Roman, Byzantine, and Saxon elements combined in its creation. It’s also likely that, due to Saracenic pressure on Syria, Asia Minor, North Africa, and Spain, artists “bringing their crafts with them” gathered from even more distant places to seek the protection of the great ruler of the West and contribute to the formation of Carolingian art. With the breakdown of Charlemagne's empire, many local schools emerged in Germany, France, and Lombardy, which—especially after the year 1000, when there seems to have been a renewed burst of building energy—resulted in significant style differentiation. The center of activity seemed to shift here and there, but despite the differences, there was a general similarity across the entire landscape. Until we have more precise dates for a large number of monuments, it will be impossible to accurately trace the complex paths of development. In fact, there are two conflicting aspects to the question of Romanesque art. First, we must consider the various schools in terms of an absolute standard of achievement, and secondly, in relation to the line of continuity and the emergence of Gothic, which largely represented the culmination and eventual decline of the forces present in Romanesque art. Some of the most beautiful and complete Romanesque schools contributed the least, while some of the most rudimentary contributed the most to what was to come.

The most important existing monument of the age of Charlemagne is the cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle (see fig. 44), which was being built in the year 800. It has an octagonal central area, covered by a dome and surrounded with two storeys of aisles both completely vaulted. The interior surface of the dome was encrusted with mosaic. Another important work of about the same time is the church of Germigny-des-Prés near Orleans, which also is of the “central type,” having a square tower above four piers surrounded 397 by an aisle with semicircular apses in the centre of each external wall, the apse to the east having a mosaic.

The most important existing monument from the time of Charlemagne is the cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle (see fig. 44), which was under construction in the year 800. It features an octagonal central area topped with a dome and flanked by two levels of aisles that are fully vaulted. The interior of the dome was adorned with mosaic. Another significant structure from around the same period is the church of Germigny-des-Prés near Orleans, which is also of the "central type," featuring a square tower above four piers bordered by an aisle with semicircular apses in the middle of each external wall, the apse to the east having a mosaic. 397

Plate III.

Plate 3.

Photo, Brogi.
Fig. 68.—ST PETERS, ROME.
Photo, Alinari.
Fig. 69.—INTERIOR OF ST PETER’S, ROME.

Plate IV.

Plate 4.

Photo, Koch.
Fig. 70.—TOWN HALL, BREMEN.
Photo, Brogi.
Fig. 7l.—VENDRAMINI PALACE, VENICE.

From the 9th to the 11th century the great problem worked out was that of perfecting the standard plans of large churches. In the MS. plan of the monastic church of St Gall, drawn about 820, we find a great nave with aisles, apsidal terminations both to the east and the west, transepts and probably a central tower (cf. the abbey church of Saint-Riquier near Abbeville, built c. 800, of which a slight representation has been preserved). In St Martin at Tours was probably evolved the most perfect type of plan, that with an ambulatory and radiating chapels surrounding the eastern apse. A magnificent church of this form was built here at the beginning of the 11th century, but not for the first time. Excavations have shown that the plan was probably suggested by a still earlier church in which five tomb-niches surrounded the central apse and tomb of St Martin. At Jumièges (begun 1040) it has recently been found that the plan terminated to the east with parallel apses, as at St Albans in England; this is a second important type. A third type is that in which the transepts as well as the east end are finished with apses, like St Mary-in-the-Capitol at Cologne.

From the 9th to the 11th century, a major focus was on refining the standard designs for large churches. In the manuscript plan of the monastic church of St. Gall, created around 820, we see a large nave with aisles, rounded ends to both the east and the west, transepts, and likely a central tower (see the abbey church of Saint-Riquier near Abbeville, built around 800, of which a small representation has been preserved). The most refined plan type likely evolved at St. Martin in Tours, featuring an ambulatory and radiating chapels surrounding the eastern apse. A stunning church of this design was constructed here at the beginning of the 11th century, but it wasn't the first instance. Excavations have revealed that this plan was likely inspired by an even earlier church, which had five tomb-niches surrounding the central apse and the tomb of St. Martin. At Jumièges (started in 1040), it has recently been discovered that the plan ended to the east with parallel apses, similar to St. Albans in England; this represents a second significant type. A third type features transepts as well as the east end finished with apses, like St. Mary-in-the-Capitol in Cologne.

When we come to the developed Romanesque of the end of the 11th century, we find not only several French varieties, but strong schools in Lombardy and on the Rhine. Without distinguishing too minutely, four broad types representing schools of the east and west, north and south (or rather north-east, north-west, south-east and south-west) of France, may be spoken of, and all of these were engaged in the task of completely covering with vaults large churches of basilican plan—the typical problem of this period. In the east of France we have a school represented by the monastic church of Tournus, where the nave was vaulted by a series of compartments placed transversely to the axis of the church. This church, which has a plan of the type of St Martin’s at Tours, was begun in 1019, but the nave vaults were not reached until after 1066. This style of vaulting persisted in Burgundy, and from thence it spread to Fountains Abbey in England, where it is found over the aisles. The most beautiful class of buildings in eastern France is that of which the church at Issoire is the most perfect example. The external walls are here ornamented with patterns countercharged in light and dark stone. The wonderful church at Le Puy also belongs to this group, but here strong Moorish influence is to be traced. The inlays were probably derived from a late Gallo-Roman source. Countercharging of stones of two colours was a favourite method of building in Romanesque churches erected between 1100 and 1150. We find it at Vézelay, a magnificent abbey church of Burgundy, at Le Mans cathedral, and as far north-west as Exeter and Worcester. In the west (south-west) the most prominent school was that of Perigord, of which the church of St Front, Périgueux, may be taken as the example. St Front was rebuilt after a fire in 1120, but there are many earlier specimens, two of the most important being at Angoulême (1105-1128) and Fontevrault. This school applied a series of domes of eastern fashion not only at the centre but over the whole extent of the church. St Front so closely resembles St Mark’s, Venice, that it must be derived from it or from some similar eastern church. The method largely influenced the Angevin school of vaulting, but it does not seem to have been effective as a protection from the weather. Some examples were covered by external roofs, as was St Front itself at a late time. St Ours at Loches, originally a small church covered by domes, had spire-like pyramids substituted for them when the church was enlarged about 1168.

When we reach the developed Romanesque period at the end of the 11th century, we see not only various French styles but also strong schools in Lombardy and along the Rhine. Without getting too detailed, we can identify four main types representing schools from the east and west, north and south (or rather northeast, northwest, southeast, and southwest) of France. All of these were focused on the challenge of fully vaulting large basilical churches, which was the key issue of this time. In eastern France, there’s a school exemplified by the monastic church of Tournus, where the nave was vaulted by a series of compartments placed across the church’s axis. This church, inspired by St. Martin’s in Tours, was started in 1019, but they didn't finish the nave vaults until after 1066. This vaulting style continued in Burgundy and spread to Fountains Abbey in England, where it appears over the aisles. The most stunning buildings in eastern France include the church at Issoire, which serves as the perfect example. The outer walls here are decorated with patterns created from alternating light and dark stone. The impressive church at Le Puy also belongs to this group, but it shows significant Moorish influence. The inlays probably came from a late Gallo-Roman source. The technique of alternating stones of two colors was a popular building method in Romanesque churches constructed between 1100 and 1150. We can see it at Vézelay, a magnificent abbey church in Burgundy, at Le Mans cathedral, and as far north and west as Exeter and Worcester. In the southwest, the most notable school was that of Périgord, exemplified by the church of St. Front in Périgueux. St. Front was rebuilt after a fire in 1120, but there are many earlier examples, with two of the most notable being in Angoulême (1105-1128) and Fontevrault. This school incorporated a series of domes in an eastern style not just at the center but across the entire church. St. Front resembles St. Mark’s in Venice so closely that it must have been inspired by it or a similar eastern church. This approach significantly influenced the Angevin style of vaulting, but it did not seem to provide effective weather protection. Some examples had external roofs, as seen with St. Front at a later time. St. Ours in Loches, originally a small church covered in domes, had spire-like pyramids added when the church was expanded around 1168.

The third class of vaulting we may for symmetry’s sake associate with the south, though it is found widely distributed. The chapel in the Tower of London is an example, and its true centre seems to be the Auvergne. The vaults of this type run along with the axis of the space to be covered. In the case of large churches the central span is frequently supported by quadrant vaults leaning against it on either side. One of the most noble churches in which the central span is covered by such a barrel vault is that of St Savin near Poitiers, where very much has been preserved of the complete series of paintings which once adorned it and the walls beneath.

The third type of vaulting can be associated with the south for the sake of symmetry, even though it’s found in many places. The chapel in the Tower of London is one example, and its true center seems to be in Auvergne. The vaults of this type extend along the axis of the area they cover. In large churches, the central span is often supported by quadrant vaults on either side. One of the most impressive churches where the central span is covered by such a barrel vault is St Savin near Poitiers, where much of the complete series of paintings that once decorated it and the walls below have been preserved.

The most characteristic buildings of the south are the churches of Moissac, St Trophime at Aries, St Gilles near Nîmes and St James of Compostella, where there is much sculpture of a Lombardic type. There was a great revival of sculpture, going together with a study of the antique, in Lombardy at the end of the 11th century. Wiligelmus, who later worked at San Zeno, Verona, signed some sculptures at Modena in 1099.

The most distinctive buildings in the south are the churches of Moissac, St. Trophime in Arles, St. Gilles near Nîmes, and St. James of Compostela, known for their extensive Lombard-style sculpture. There was a significant resurgence of sculpture that accompanied a revival of ancient studies in Lombardy at the end of the 11th century. Wiligelmus, who later worked at San Zeno in Verona, signed some sculptures in Modena in 1099.

Of the schools of the north, Normandy took the lead. It was adventurous, if somewhat barbaric. It derived much from Germany and gave much to the Gothic style. About the middle of the 11th century the Normans began to experiment with cross-groined vaults and their application to the church problem. This from the first contained an important possibility of future development, in that it allowed of windows of considerable height being placed in the lunettes of these vaults. Soon a very great step in advance was made by the invention or application of diagonal ribs under the intersection of the plain groined vault. This association of strengthening ribs in a cross form to each bay of the structure forms the ogive, the characteristic form from which the alternative name to Gothic, “ogival,” has been derived. The first instance we know of the use of this system is at Durham cathedral, where the aisles of the east end were so covered about 1093, and where the high vault erected about 1104 was almost certainly of the same kind. Another outcome of the genius of Norman builders seems to have been the donjon or keep type of castle.

Of the schools in the north, Normandy took the lead. It was adventurous, though somewhat rough. It drew a lot from Germany and contributed significantly to the Gothic style. Around the middle of the 11th century, the Normans started experimenting with cross-groined vaults and their application to church design. This innovation held significant potential for future development, as it allowed for the placement of large windows in the lunettes of these vaults. Soon, a major advancement was made with the introduction or use of diagonal ribs at the intersection of the plain groined vault. This combination of strengthening ribs in a cross pattern for each bay of the structure forms the ogive, which is the defining shape from which the alternative name for Gothic, “ogival,” is derived. The first known example of this system can be seen at Durham Cathedral, where the aisles of the east end were covered around 1093, and where the high vault built around 1104 was almost certainly of the same design. Another achievement of Norman builders appears to be the donjon or keep style of castle.

The word “Gothic” was applied by Italian writers of the Renaissance to buildings later than Roman, which in some cases (e.g. Theodoric’s works at Ravenna) might be properly so named. What we now call Gothic the same writers called Modern. Later the word came to mean the art which filled the whole interval between the Roman period and the Renaissance, and then last of all, when the Byzantine and Romanesque forms of art were defined, Gothic became the art which intervened between the Romanesque era and the Renaissance.

The term “Gothic” was used by Italian writers during the Renaissance to describe buildings that came after the Roman period, which in some cases (e.g. Theodoric’s works at Ravenna) could accurately be labeled as such. What we now refer to as Gothic, those same writers called Modern. Eventually, the term came to represent the art that spanned the time between the Roman period and the Renaissance. Finally, as the Byzantine and Romanesque styles of art were categorized, Gothic became recognized as the art that connected the Romanesque era and the Renaissance.

As remarked above, Gothic architecture is to a large extent the crown of Romanesque. It is agreed that its chief element of construction was the ogival vaulting which was being widely used by Romanesque builders in the first half of the 12th century; and pointed arches appeared as early.

As mentioned earlier, Gothic architecture largely builds upon Romanesque styles. It's generally accepted that its main construction feature was the pointed vaulting, which Romanesque builders were extensively using in the first half of the 12th century; pointed arches also emerged around that time.

The eminent architect, G.E. Street, writing3 of what we have called the standard plan of great 12th-century churches, says, “In whatever way the early chevets (as the French term them) grew up there is no doubt that they contain the germ of the magnificent chevets in the complete Gothic churches of the north of France.” Architecture of the middle ages having been continuously developed, it is necessarily somewhat arbitrary to mark off any given period; all are agreed, however, that about the year 1150 there was a time of rapid change towards a slenderer and more energetic type of building, and the forms which followed for about four centuries we now call Gothic. The special character which the architecture of this period took was partially conditioned by the fact that the expanding power of the French kingdom, with its centre at Paris, was situated in a particular artistic environment. The body of ideas on which it for the most part worked was furnished by the Romanesque art of north France, the German borderland and Burgundy. A great contributory cause was the immense monastic activity of the time, and the need of accomplishing large results with limited means resulted in a casting aside of old ornamental commonplaces and in innovations of planning and structure. This was especially the case with the Cistercian order, which carried certain transitional Gothic forms of building into England, Germany, Italy and Spain. If, however, we make the transition to Gothic date from the first use of “ogival” vaults in north-west Europe, then Durham cathedral is, so far as we now know, the earliest example of the transitional style. The next step, the appearance of Gothic itself, may best be held to date from the systematic but not exclusive use of pointed arches in association with ogival vaults about the middle of the 12th century.

The renowned architect, G.E. Street, writing in 3 about what we refer to as the standard design of large 12th-century churches, says, “No matter how the early chevets (as they're called in French) developed, it's clear they contain the seeds of the impressive chevets found in the complete Gothic churches of northern France.” The architecture of the Middle Ages evolved continuously, making it somewhat arbitrary to define any specific period; however, everyone agrees that around 1150, there was a time of rapid change toward a more slender and dynamic style of building, with the forms that followed for about four centuries now known as Gothic. The unique characteristics of the architecture from this period were partly influenced by the expanding power of the French kingdom, centered in Paris, which was situated within a distinct artistic context. The foundational ideas it used primarily came from the Romanesque art of northern France, the German border area, and Burgundy. A significant contributing factor was the intense monastic activity of the time, and the need to achieve significant results with limited resources led to the abandonment of old ornamental clichés and introduced innovations in planning and structure. This was especially true for the Cistercian order, which brought certain transitional Gothic building forms to England, Germany, Italy, and Spain. If, however, we consider the transition to Gothic to begin with the first use of “ogival” vaults in north-west Europe, then Durham Cathedral is, as far as we currently know, the earliest example of this transitional style. The next step, the emergence of Gothic itself, can best be dated to the systematic but not exclusive use of pointed arches in combination with ogival vaults around the middle of the 12th century.

At this time was waged a war of domination amongst the styles, a war which resulted not necessarily in the victory of the most beautiful nor even of the strongest, but one in which political and geographical considerations had much to do with the decision. When the French kingdom took the lead in western civilization, it was settled that a northern form of art, one which had perforce to make a chief element of the window, should be followed out. The consequent development of the window is, after all, as the first observers thought, the great mark of the mature style. As to the position of France in the movement, Mr Street may again be quoted:—“When once the Gothic style was well established, the zeal with which the work of building was pursued in France was almost incredibly great. A series of churches exists there within short distances of each other, so superb in all their features that it is impossible to contest their superiority to any corresponding group of buildings. The old Domaine Royale is that in which French art is seen in its perfection. Notre Dame, Paris, is a monument second to nothing in the world; but for completeness in all its parts it would be better to cite the cathedral of Chartres, a short description of which must suffice as an explanation of what French art at its zenith was. The plan has a nave with aisles, transepts with aisles on each side, a choir with two aisles all round it, and chapels beyond them. There are two immense steeples 398 at the west end, two towers to each transept and two towers at the junction of the choir with its apse. The doorways are triple at the west end, whilst to each transept is a vast triple porch in front of the three doorways. The whole of these doorways are covered with sculpture, much of it refined, spirited and interesting in the highest degree. You enter and find the interior surpassing even the exterior. The order of the columns and arches, and of all the details, is so noble and simple that no fault can be found with it. The whole is admirably executed; and, finally, every window throughout its vast interior is full of the richest glass coeval with the fabric. As compared with English churches of the same class, there are striking differences. The French architects aimed at greater height, greater size, but much less effect of length. Their roofs were so lofty that it was almost impossible for them to build steeples which should have the sort of effect that ours have. The turret on Amiens cathedral is nearly as lofty as Salisbury spire, but is only a turret; and so throughout. Few French churches afford the exquisite complete views of the exterior which English churches do; but, on the other hand, their interiors are more majestic, and man feels himself smaller and more insignificant in them than in ours. The palm must certainly be given to them above all others. There is no country richer in examples of architecture than France. The student who wishes to understand what it was possible for a country to do in the way of creating monuments of its grandeur, would find in almost every part of the country, at every turn and in great profusion, works of the rarest interest and beauty. The 19th century may be the consummation of all, but the evidences of its existence to posterity will not be one-tenth in number of those which such a reign as that of Philip Augustus has left us, whilst none of them will come up to the high standard which in his time was invariably reached.”

At this time, there was a struggle for dominance among styles, a struggle that didn't necessarily favor the most beautiful or even the strongest, but one heavily influenced by political and geographical factors. When the French kingdom emerged as a leader in Western civilization, it was decided that a northern style of art, which had to emphasize the window, should be developed. The resulting evolution of the window is, as the earliest observers noted, a significant marker of the mature style. Regarding France's role in this movement, Mr. Street can again be quoted: “Once the Gothic style was firmly established, the enthusiasm for building in France was almost astonishing. There’s a series of churches located close to each other, each so outstanding in their features that it’s impossible to dispute their superiority over any similar group of buildings. The old Domaine Royale showcases French art in its finest form. Notre Dame in Paris is a monument like no other in the world; however, for completeness in all its parts, it’s better to mention the cathedral of Chartres, a brief description of which will illustrate what French art was like at its peak. The layout includes a nave with aisles, transepts with side aisles, a choir surrounded by aisles, and chapels beyond them. There are two large steeples at the west end, two towers at each transept, and two towers where the choir meets its apse. The west end has three grand doorways, with an extensive triple porch in front of each transept. All of these doorways are adorned with sculpture, much of which is refined, lively, and extremely interesting. Upon entry, you’ll find the interior even more impressive than the exterior. The arrangement of the columns and arches, along with all the details, is so noble and simple that it’s hard to find any faults. Everything is beautifully executed; and, finally, every window throughout its vast interior is filled with the richest stained glass from the same period as the building itself. Compared to English churches of the same type, there are notable differences. French architects aimed for greater height and size, but with much less emphasis on length. Their roofs were so high that it was nearly impossible to construct steeples that had the same impact as those in England. The turret on Amiens Cathedral is nearly as tall as Salisbury's spire, but it’s just a turret; and this holds true across the board. Few French churches provide the exquisite, complete views of the exterior that English churches do; however, their interiors are more majestic, and one feels smaller and more insignificant in them than in ours. They undoubtedly deserve the top spot above all others. No country has richer architectural examples than France. A student wanting to grasp what a country could achieve in creating monuments of grandeur would find in almost every part of France, at every turn, works of remarkable interest and beauty in abundance. The 19th century may be the pinnacle of it all, but the evidence of its existence for future generations will be less than one-tenth of what the reign of Philip Augustus has left us, and none of them will match the high standard consistently achieved during his time.”

The remarks which have been made as to the variation in style visible in various parts of the same country, apply with more force, perhaps, in what we now call France than to any other part of Europe. For the purposes of complete study it would be necessary to keep distinct from each other in the mind the following important divisions:—(1) Provence and Auvergne; (2) Aquitaine; (3) Burgundy; (4) Anjou and Poitou, (5) Brittany; (6) Normandy; (7) the Île-de-France and Picardy; (8) Champagne; and, finally, (9) the eastern border-land (neither quite German nor quite French in its character), the meeting-point of the two very different developments of French and German art. Speaking generally, it is safe to say that Gothic architecture was never brought to its highest perfection in any portion of the south of France. Aquitaine, Auvergne and Provence were too wedded to classic traditions to excel in an art which seems to have required for its perfection no sort of looking back to such a past. Hence there is no Gothic work in the south for which it is possible to feel the same admiration and enthusiasm as must be felt by every artist in presence of the great works of the north. In Anjou this is less the case; but even there the art is extremely inferior to that which is seen in Normandy and the Île-de-France. Brittany may be dismissed from consideration, as being, like Cornwall, so provincial and so cut off from neighbours, that its art could not fail to be very local, and without much influence outside its own borders.

The comments about the differences in style found in various regions of the same country are especially relevant to what we now call France, more than to any other part of Europe. For a thorough study, it's important to remember the following significant divisions: (1) Provence and Auvergne; (2) Aquitaine; (3) Burgundy; (4) Anjou and Poitou; (5) Brittany; (6) Normandy; (7) the Île-de-France and Picardy; (8) Champagne; and, finally, (9) the eastern border area (not entirely German but also not fully French), where the two distinct traditions of French and German art meet. Generally speaking, it's safe to say that Gothic architecture never reached its highest level of excellence in any part of southern France. Aquitaine, Auvergne, and Provence were too attached to classical traditions to thrive in an art form that seemed to need a break from the past to achieve its best. As a result, there are no Gothic works in the south that inspire the same admiration and enthusiasm that every artist feels in front of the great works in the north. Anjou is somewhat different, but even there, the art is far inferior to what can be seen in Normandy and the Île-de-France. Brittany can be overlooked, as it is, like Cornwall, so isolated and provincial that its art is very localized and lacks significant influence beyond its own borders.

There are examples of true Gothic outside its proper habitat, almost pure French works being found as far south as Laon and Burgos, as far east as Strassburg and Lausanne and as far north as Canterbury and Cologne. Westminister Abbey was profoundly influenced by direct study of French work. Normandy, Burgundy, and the land as far north as Tournay seem to have shared in the work of transition; but the Gothic area proper is the Île-de-France with Picardy and Champagne, then Burgundy, Normandy and England.

There are examples of true Gothic architecture outside its original area, with almost pure French works found as far south as Laon and Burgos, as far east as Strasbourg and Lausanne, and as far north as Canterbury and Cologne. Westminster Abbey was greatly influenced by direct study of French designs. Normandy, Burgundy, and regions as far north as Tournai seem to have contributed to this transition; however, the core Gothic area is the Île-de-France along with Picardy and Champagne, then Burgundy, Normandy, and England.

Four remarkable buildings best represent the early phase of the Gothic style, the abbey church of St Denis, and the cathedrals of Noyon, Senlis and Sens. The first was begun in 1137, and the choir was consecrated in 1143. The few parts of this work which remain are sufficient to show how stately and yet fresh the whole work must have been. Noyon cathedral, begun after a fire which occurred in 1131, had its choir consecrated in 1157. The cathedral of Senlis was begun in 1155. Sens cathedral, begun about the same time, or even earlier, is the first of the great cathedrals. Many other buildings belong to the first years of the style; such are the abbey churches of St Remi at Reims, Notre Dame at Châlons and St Germain-des-Prés, Paris. The choir of this last was consecrated in 1163, and in the same year Notre Dame, Paris, was begun. This mighty building, although very complete, was altered as to its effect by the substitution, early in the 13th century, of large two-light windows for the earlier lancets of the clerestory. The sculptures of the west front are exquisite. Laon cathedral, another of the great churches, is of about the same age as Notre Dame. It also has beautiful sculpture in its western porches, but its most marked characteristic is the group of six great and romantic towers which flank the fronts to the west, the north and the south. In the 13th century, the church was extended to the east and the original chevet was destroyed. From the evidence furnished by fine double-staged chapels to the transepts, it is most probable that three similar chapels were set about the ambulatory of the apse, the upper chapels opening from the fine vaulted triforium. Such an arrangement existed at the noble church of Valenciennes, now destroyed, but well recorded. At the end of the 12th century Chartres cathedral was begun, perhaps its most notable constructive feature being the high development that the flying buttresses have here attained. It was followed in the early years of the 13th century by Rouen cathedral, which derived much from its prototype. St Omer, a fine early church, in turn, followed Rouen.

Four remarkable buildings best represent the early phase of the Gothic style: the abbey church of St. Denis and the cathedrals of Noyon, Senlis, and Sens. Construction of St. Denis began in 1137, and its choir was consecrated in 1143. The few remaining parts of this work are enough to show how impressive yet fresh the entire structure must have been. Noyon cathedral started after a fire broke out in 1131, with its choir consecrated in 1157. The cathedral of Senlis was initiated in 1155. Sens cathedral, which began around the same time or even earlier, is the first of the great cathedrals. Many other buildings date back to the early years of this style, such as the abbey churches of St. Remi at Reims, Notre Dame at Châlons, and St. Germain-des-Prés in Paris. The choir of the last one was consecrated in 1163, and in the same year, construction of Notre Dame in Paris began. This grand structure, although quite complete, was altered in the early 13th century when large two-light windows replaced the earlier lancets of the clerestory, affecting its overall look. The sculptures on the west front are exquisite. Laon cathedral, another major church, was built around the same time as Notre Dame. It also features beautiful sculptures in its western porches, but its most distinctive aspect is the group of six impressive, romantic towers that flank the fronts to the west, north, and south. In the 13th century, the church was extended to the east, and the original chevet was destroyed. Evidence from the ornate double-staged chapels in the transepts suggests that three similar chapels were placed around the ambulatory of the apse, with the upper chapels opening from the beautifully vaulted triforium. This type of arrangement was found in the noble church of Valenciennes, which has now been destroyed but is well documented. At the end of the 12th century, the construction of Chartres cathedral began, with one of its most notable features being the highly developed flying buttresses. This was followed in the early years of the 13th century by Rouen cathedral, which borrowed much from its predecessor. St. Omer, a fine early church, was built next, following Rouen.

Fig. 40.—Plan of Cathedral at Amiens.

The second stage of Gothic, introducing the traceried window, was opened by the building of the cathedral of Reims, begun in 1211. This is in every way one of the most perfect of cathedrals, as well for its sculpture and glass as for its structure. Reims was followed by the still greater cathedral at Amiens (fig. 40), which was begun in 1220 at the west front, so that the superb sculpture (Plate II., fig. 64) of the porches is earlier than that of Reims. Beauvais cathedral was begun in 1247 on a still vaster scale, and with an ambition that o’erleaped itself. Auxerre cathedral, and the very beautiful collegiate churches of St Quentin and Semur, also followed Reims. Two other cathedrals of the first rank which must be mentioned are those of Bourges and Le Mans, each of these having double aisles about the apse, with a large clerestory to the inner one of the two, above which rises the great clerestory. This scheme is one of the great feats of Gothic construction. Le Mans again furnished the most highly developed form of chevet planning (fig. 41). On this point Mr Street may again be cited. “It was in the planning of the apse, with its surrounding aisles and chapels, that all their ingenuity and science were displayed. A simple apse is easy enough of construction, but directly it is surrounded by an aisle or aisles, with chapels again beyond them, the difficulties are great. The bays of the circular aisle, instead of being square, are very much wider on one side than the other, and it is most difficult to fit the vaulting to the unequal space. In order to get over this, various plans were tried. At Notre Dame, Paris, the vaulting bays were all triangular on plan, so that the points of support might be twice as many on the outside line of the circle as on the inside. But this was rather an unsightly contrivance, and was not often repeated, though at Bourges there is something of the same sort. At Le Mans the aisle vaulting bays are alternately triangular and square; and this is, perhaps, the best arrangement of all, as the latter are true and square, and none of the lines of the vault are twisted or distorted in the slightest degree. The arrangement of the chapels round the apse was equally varied. Usually they are too crowded in effect; and, perhaps, the most beautiful plan is that of Rouen cathedral, where there are only three chapels with unoccupied bays between, affording much greater relief and variety of lighting than the commoner plan which provided a chapel to every bay. The planning and design of the chevet is the great glory of the French medieval school. When the same thing was attempted, as at Westminster, or by the Germans at Cologne, it was evidently a copy, and usually an inferior copy, of French work. No English works led up to Westminster Abbey, and no German works to the cathedral at Cologne.”

The second phase of Gothic architecture, marked by the introduction of traceried windows, began with the construction of the Reims Cathedral, which started in 1211. This cathedral is, in every respect, one of the most perfect examples, known for its sculpture, stained glass, and overall structure. Reims was followed by the even more impressive cathedral at Amiens (fig. 40), which commenced in 1220 at the west front, meaning that the stunning sculpture (Plate II., fig. 64) of the porches predates that of Reims. The Beauvais Cathedral started in 1247 and was built on an even grander scale, showing aspirations that exceeded its capabilities. Auxerre Cathedral, along with the beautiful collegiate churches of St. Quentin and Semur, also came after Reims. Two other notable cathedrals that should be mentioned are those of Bourges and Le Mans; both feature double aisles around the apse with a large clerestory above the inner aisle, topped by a great clerestory. This design is one of the remarkable achievements of Gothic architecture. Le Mans provided the most advanced form of chevet planning (fig. 41). On this topic, Mr. Street can be referenced again: “It was in the design of the apse, along with its surrounding aisles and chapels, that their creativity and skill were most evident. A simple apse is relatively easy to construct, but once you surround it with aisles and additional chapels, the complexities increase significantly. The bays of the circular aisle, rather than being square, are wider on one side than the other, making it challenging to fit the vaulting perfectly to the uneven area. To address this, several plans were attempted. At Notre Dame in Paris, the vaulting bays were designed to be triangular, which allowed for more support points along the outer circle compared to the inner side. However, this tactic was somewhat unattractive and wasn't commonly used again, although Bourges has something similar. At Le Mans, the aisle vaulting bays alternate between triangular and square shapes, and this arrangement may be the most effective since the square bays are perfectly true, ensuring that none of the vault lines are twisted or distorted. The layout of the chapels around the apse also varies considerably. Often, they feel too cramped; perhaps the most aesthetically pleasing design is that of Rouen Cathedral, where there are only three chapels with unoccupied bays in between, allowing for much better relief and a more varied lighting effect compared to the usual design that included a chapel for every bay. The planning and design of the chevet are the crowning achievement of the French medieval architecture. When similar designs were attempted, as seen at Westminster or by the Germans in Cologne, it was clearly imitative and often a lesser version of French craftsmanship. No English works led to Westminster Abbey, and no German works influenced the Cologne Cathedral.”

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The variety in the planning of the chevets must be remarked. There might be only one chapel opening from the semicircular ambulatory, as at Langres, Sens, Auxerre, Bayeux and Lausanne. Canterbury cathedral, designed by William of Sens, is perhaps the most perfect example. There were three separated chapels, as at Rouen, St Omer, Semur, &c., or there might be five filling the whole space, which became the general later scheme. Chartres furnishes an intermediate plan, in having the alternate chapels much shallower than the others. The chapels might be circular or polygonal or alternately square and round. Of the last the cathedral of Toledo is a wonderful example. The plan with parallel apses also continued in use, as at the beautiful abbey church at Dijon and St Urbain at Troyes. Apsidal transepts were built at Noyon, Soissons and Valenciennes.

The variety in the design of the chevets is worth noting. There could be just one chapel opening from the semicircular ambulatory, like at Langres, Sens, Auxerre, Bayeux, and Lausanne. Canterbury Cathedral, designed by William of Sens, is probably the best example. There were three separate chapels, as seen in Rouen, St Omer, Semur, etc., or there could be five filling the entire space, which became the standard later on. Chartres shows a mix by having the alternate chapels much shallower than the others. The chapels could be circular, polygonal, or alternating between square and round. For the latter, the Cathedral of Toledo is an outstanding example. The plan with parallel apses also remained in use, as seen at the beautiful abbey church in Dijon and St Urbain in Troyes. Apsidal transepts were constructed at Noyon, Soissons, and Valenciennes.

Another stage of development was reached with the building of the Sainte Chapelle in Paris, begun in 1244. With this work the Gothic system reached complete maturity. Here for the first time large traceried windows seem to have been perfected, and, moreover, the structure was so organized into a series of wide window spaces, only divided by strong far-projecting buttress piers, that the stained glass ideal found full expression and the building became a lantern for its display.

Another stage of development was reached with the construction of the Sainte Chapelle in Paris, which started in 1244. With this project, the Gothic style reached its full potential. For the first time, large stained glass windows seem to have been perfected, and the structure was designed with a series of expansive window spaces, only separated by robust, projecting buttress piers, allowing the stained glass ideal to be fully realized and making the building a bright showcase for its display.

Figure. 41.—Cathedral of Le Mans. East end and Chevet.

During the next half-century the influence of the Sainte Chapelle is to be traced everywhere, and its system of construction was developed to the furthest possible point in St Urbain at Troyes, begun in 1260. Exploration of the Gothic theory of structure could be carried no further. From this point the style turned in on itself, becoming more unreasonably intricate, artificial and mannerized. One of the finest examples of the style of the early 14th century is the eastern limb of St Ouen, Rouen; Troyes cathedral is also an important example of later work. As Mr Street says: “Later French architecture ran a very similar course to that in England. The 13th century was that in which it was seen at its best. In the 14th the same sort of change took place as elsewhere; and art was beautiful, but it was too much an evidence of skilfulness and adroitness. It was harder and colder also than English work of the same age; and when it fell, it did so before the inroads of a taste for what has been called Flamboyant architecture,—a gay and meretricious style which trusted to ornament for all its effect, and, in spite of many beauties, had none of the sturdy magnificence of much of our English Perpendicular style.”

During the next fifty years, the influence of the Sainte Chapelle can be seen everywhere, and its construction method was taken to its limits in St Urbain at Troyes, which started in 1260. The exploration of Gothic structural theory couldn't go any further than this point. After this, the style became more self-referential, increasingly complex, artificial, and mannered. One of the best examples of this style from the early 14th century is the eastern section of St Ouen in Rouen; the Troyes cathedral is also a significant example of later work. As Mr. Street puts it: “Later French architecture followed a path very similar to that in England. The 13th century showcased it at its finest. In the 14th century, a similar change occurred as elsewhere; and while the art was beautiful, it also demonstrated too much skill and proficiency. It was more rigid and colder than English work from the same period; and when it declined, it did so in the face of a growing preference for a style known as Flamboyant architecture—a flashy and superficial style that relied on decoration for its effect, and despite many beauties, lacked the solid grandeur of much of our English Perpendicular style.”

M. Enlart has recently accepted the view that the germs of flamboyancy in the later French Gothic are to be found in the flowing curvilinear forms of early 14th-century work in England.

M. Enlart has recently agreed that the beginnings of flamboyance in late French Gothic architecture can be seen in the flowing curved lines of early 14th-century work in England.

Up to the middle of the 16th century, magnificent works in the national style were still being executed. St Vulfran at Abbeville, St Maclou in Rouen, and the façade of the cathedral of Rouen, may be mentioned; some of the last works were the immense transepts of Beauvais cathedral and the façade of Tours.

Up until the middle of the 16th century, impressive works in the national style were still being created. St. Vulfran in Abbeville, St. Maclou in Rouen, and the façade of the Rouen cathedral are notable examples; some of the last projects included the huge transepts of the Beauvais cathedral and the façade of Tours.

We have necessarily spoken most of churches, but the palaces, castles and civic buildings form another great class hardly less interesting. The castles of Coucy and Château Gaillard may rival any cathedral. Among civic buildings may be mentioned the palais de justice at Rouen and the hôtel de ville at Compiègne, both late but beautiful and impressive types. The royal palace of Paris is now represented by the Sainte Chapelle, but accounts of its splendid hall and general arrangements have been preserved. At Poitiers is still extant the hall of the palace of the counts of Poitou; at Laon the episcopal palace is almost entire; there are considerable remains of the bishops’ palaces of Beauvais, Evreux, Rouen, Reims: and the pope’s palace at Avignon must also be mentioned in this connexion. The most perfect existing great houses of the middle ages are those of Jacques Coeur at Bourges and of the abbot of Cluny in Paris. A large number of fine houses on a small scale, dating from the 12th and 13th centuries, are still preserved at Beauvais, Auxerre, Chartres, Cordes, &c. The house of the musicians at Reims, c. 1280, is adorned by a series of seated life-sized figures playing instruments, in sculpture of a very high order. A good and concise account of the smaller houses in France is given in Hudson Turner’s Some Account of Domestic Architecture, and in C. Enlart’s Manuel d’archéologie, the best and most recent survey of the whole field of medieval antiquities in France.

We have mainly talked about churches, but the palaces, castles, and civic buildings make up another major category that’s just as fascinating. The castles of Coucy and Château Gaillard can compete with any cathedral. Among civic buildings, we can highlight the palais de justice in Rouen and the hôtel de ville in Compiègne, both of which are more recent but still beautiful and impressive. The royal palace of Paris is now represented by the Sainte Chapelle, but records of its magnificent hall and overall design have been preserved. In Poitiers, the hall of the palace of the counts of Poitou still exists; in Laon, the episcopal palace is nearly intact; there are significant remains of the bishops’ palaces in Beauvais, Évreux, Rouen, and Reims; and the pope’s palace in Avignon should also be noted here. The most perfectly preserved large houses from the Middle Ages are those of Jacques Coeur in Bourges and the abbot of Cluny in Paris. A large number of fine smaller houses from the 12th and 13th centuries are still preserved in Beauvais, Auxerre, Chartres, Cordes, etc. The house of the musicians in Reims, around 1280, features a series of life-sized sculptures of seated figures playing instruments, showcasing very high-quality craftsmanship. A good and concise overview of the smaller houses in France can be found in Hudson Turner’s Some Account of Domestic Architecture, and in C. Enlart’s Manuel d’archéologie, which is the best and most recent survey of the entire field of medieval antiquities in France.

(W. R. L.)

Romanesque and Gothic Architecture in Spain

Romanesque and Gothic Architecture in Spain

What strikes the architectural student most forcibly in Spain is the concurrent existence of two schools of art during the best part of the middle ages. The Moors invaded Spain in 711, and were not finally expelled from Granada until 1492. During the whole of this period they were engaged, with more or less success, in contests for superiority with the Christian natives. In those portions of the country which they held longest, and with the firmest hand, they enforced their own customs and taste in art almost to the exclusion of all other work. Where their rule was not permanent their artistic influence was still felt, and even beyond what were ever the boundaries of their dominion, there are still to be seen in Gothic buildings some traces of acquaintance with Arabic art not seen elsewhere in Europe, with the exception, perhaps, of the southern part of the Italian peninsula, and there differing much in its development. The mosque of Cordova in the 9th century, the Alcazar and Giralda at Seville in the 13th, the Court of Lions in the Alhambra in the 14th, several houses in Toledo in the 15th century, are examples of what the Moors were building during the period of the middle ages in which the best Gothic buildings were being erected. Some portions of Spain were never conquered by the Moors. These were the greater part of Aragon, Navarre, Asturias, Biscay and the northern portion of Galicia. Toledo was retaken by the Christians in 1085, Tarragona in 1089, Saragossa in 1118, Lerida in 1149, Valencia in 1238 and Seville in 1248. In the districts occupied by the Moors Gothic architecture had no natural growth, whilst even in those which were not held by them the arts of war were of necessity so much more thought of than those of peace, that the services of foreign architects were made use of to an extent unequalled in any other part of Europe.

What stands out to architectural students in Spain is the simultaneous presence of two art schools throughout much of the Middle Ages. The Moors invaded Spain in 711 and were finally driven out of Granada in 1492. During this entire time, they were engaged, with varying degrees of success, in struggles for dominance with the Christian locals. In the areas they controlled for the longest and most firmly, they imposed their own customs and artistic tastes almost exclusively. Even where their rule was not permanent, their artistic influence remained strong, and beyond their territorial boundaries, traces of familiarity with Arabic art can still be observed in Gothic buildings, a phenomenon not found elsewhere in Europe, except perhaps in southern Italy, where the development differs significantly. The mosque of Cordova from the 9th century, the Alcazar and Giralda in Seville from the 13th century, the Court of Lions in the Alhambra from the 14th century, and various houses in Toledo from the 15th century are examples of what the Moors were constructing during the Middle Ages while the best Gothic buildings were being created. Some regions of Spain were never conquered by the Moors, including most of Aragon, Navarre, Asturias, Biscay, and the northern part of Galicia. Christians reclaimed Toledo in 1085, Tarragona in 1089, Saragossa in 1118, Lerida in 1149, Valencia in 1238, and Seville in 1248. In areas occupied by the Moors, Gothic architecture did not develop naturally, and even in regions that were not under their control, the focus was primarily on military pursuits rather than peaceful arts, leading to the extensive hiring of foreign architects, more so than in any other part of Europe.

Of early Christian buildings erected from the 9th to the 11th century remains of some twenty to thirty are known, and there are probably others which will be found when the communications in the country become more extended. The most interesting of these is Santa Maria de Naranco near Oviedo, originally built in 848 as part of a palace. It consisted of a rectangular hall, 42 ft. long and 16 ft. wide, with entrance doorways in the centre of each side, and at each end an arcade of three arches, carried on piers and coupled columns, which led to an open loggia from which the hall was lighted. Fifty to sixty years later it was converted into a church by blocking up the end of the east loggia. The church is remarkable for its barrel vault, built in fine masonry, and for the knowledge that is displayed in meeting its thrust. Internally, in order to lessen the span, the upper part of the walls is brought forward and carried on a series of arches on each side, which are supported on piers consisting of four coupled columns, virtually constituting an interior abutment. Externally, the thrust is met by buttresses, features not found in France until about a century and a half later. All the columns are spiral-fluted, and a twisted-cord torus-moulding decorates the capitals and other features in the church. The transverse ribs of the hall, which are of slight projection, are carried on broad bands with disks in the spandrils of the arches, the disks having badges in the centre, and being bordered, as well as the bands, with twisted cords. Underneath the church is a spacious vaulted crypt, which was built as a cellar or basement storey, to raise and give more importance to the palace. The twisted cord seems to have been a favourite device in all the early churches, and is extensively employed in the decoration of San Miguel de Lino, a small church about a quarter of a mile from Santa Maria de Naranco and coeval with that church. Externally the church of San Miguel has all the character of a Byzantine church; the windows in the front are pierced with Moorish tracery, probably brought there by those Christians who were flying to the sanctuaries of Asturias from the incursions of the Moors. In another church, about 15 m. south of Oviedo, Santa Christina de Leon, all the attached staffs are decorated with spiral fluting. The choir is raised, and approached by steps on either side through a screen of three arches, of the type known as Transennae in the earlier Christian of Rome. Here, as 400 in Santa Maria de Naranco, the church is covered with a barrel vault with similar constructive and decorative features. Externally the buttresses are in great profusion, there being two to each bay. The screen, the pierced marble slabs between the columns carrying it, and the decoration of the capitals, all show Byzantine influence. Other early churches are those of San Pablo del Campo (930) and San Pedro de las Puellas, both in Barcelona, the fine church at the village of Priesca near Villaviciosa (915), the monastery of Valdedios (893) and that of San Salvador (1218), in which, notwithstanding its late date, there is a distinct Moorish influence. This influence is also to be noticed in the north of Spain, although it was never occupied by the Moors. Thus in the earliest church known, at Banos de Cerrato near Palencia (founded in 662, but restored in 711), there is a horse-shoe barrel vault over the square apse. Again in San Miguel de Escalada (913) near Leon, there are horse-shoe arches in the nave, and the three apses are horse-shoe on plan. San Pedro at Zamora is a vaulted church with horse-shoe arches in the nave, but otherwise Byzantine in style. In the church of Corpus Christi at Segovia the nave is Moorish in style, and the octagonal columns of the nave have capitals with fir cones, as in the well-known Santa Maria la Blanra at Toledo, originally a synagogue. The most remarkable church of all, so far as Moorish style is concerned, is the church of the monastery of Santiago de Peñalva, near Villafranca del Vierzo, built between 931 and 951, and therefore coeval with Cordova. The church is 40 ft. long by 20 ft. wide, covered by a barrel vault with transverse horse-shoe arch in the centre carrying the same. At each end is an apse with horse-shoe arches carried on marble shafts with Byzantine capitals. Though of later date, there is another interesting Romanesque example in the Templars’ church of La Vera Cruz at Segovia (1204), which is twelve-sided with three apses, and in the centre has a chapel built in imitation of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem.

Of early Christian buildings built between the 9th and 11th centuries, around twenty to thirty remain known, and likely more will be discovered as the country's infrastructure improves. The most intriguing of these is Santa Maria de Naranco near Oviedo, originally constructed in 848 as part of a palace. It featured a rectangular hall, 42 ft. long and 16 ft. wide, with doorways in the center of each side, and at each end, an arcade of three arches supported by piers and coupled columns, leading to an open loggia that lit the hall. Fifty to sixty years later, it was transformed into a church by sealing off the end of the east loggia. The church is notable for its barrel vault, built with fine masonry, showcasing expert design to manage its thrust. Internally, to reduce the span, the upper part of the walls is advanced and supported by a series of arches on each side, resting on piers made up of four coupled columns, effectively acting as an interior abutment. Externally, buttresses counter the thrust, a feature not seen in France until about a century and a half later. All the columns are spiral-fluted, and the capitals and other elements in the church are adorned with twisted-cord torus-moulding. The transverse ribs of the hall, slightly projecting, rest on broad bands with disks in the arches' spandrils, the disks featuring badges and bordered, along with the bands, with twisted cords. Below the church is a spacious vaulted crypt, built as a cellar or basement level to elevate and enhance the palace’s significance. The twisted cord appears to have been a popular design element in early churches and is extensively used in the decoration of San Miguel de Lino, a small church about a quarter mile from Santa Maria de Naranco, built around the same time. Externally, the church of San Miguel resembles a Byzantine church; the front windows are adorned with Moorish tracery, likely brought by Christians fleeing to the sanctuaries of Asturias from the Moorish invasions. In another church about 15 miles south of Oviedo, Santa Christina de Leon, all the attached columns flaunt spiral fluting. The choir is elevated and accessed via steps on either side through a screen of three arches, known as Transennae in the early Christian style of Rome. Here, as in Santa Maria de Naranco, the church is topped with a barrel vault featuring similar structural and decorative details. Externally, the buttresses are plentiful, with two for each bay. The screen, the pierced marble slabs between the supporting columns, and the decorations of the capitals all display Byzantine influences. Other early churches include San Pablo del Campo (930) and San Pedro de las Puellas, both in Barcelona, the impressive church in the village of Priesca near Villaviciosa (915), the monastery of Valdedios (893), and that of San Salvador (1218), which, despite its later date, shows a clear Moorish influence. This influence is also evident in northern Spain, though it was never occupied by the Moors. In the earliest known church, at Banos de Cerrato near Palencia (founded in 662, but restored in 711), there is a horse-shoe barrel vault over the square apse. In San Miguel de Escalada (913) near Leon, horse-shoe arches are found in the nave, and the three apses are horse-shoe shaped. San Pedro at Zamora features a vaulted church with horse-shoe arches in the nave, while remaining predominantly Byzantine in style. In the church of Corpus Christi at Segovia, the nave has a Moorish style, and the octagonal columns have capitals adorned with fir cones, similar to the well-known Santa Maria la Blanca at Toledo, originally a synagogue. The most remarkable church in terms of Moorish style is the monastery church of Santiago de Peñalva, near Villafranca del Bierzo, built between 931 and 951, contemporary with Cordova. The church measures 40 ft. long by 20 ft. wide, features a barrel vault with a transverse horse-shoe arch in the center supporting it. At each end, there are apses with horse-shoe arches on marble shafts with Byzantine capitals. Although later, another intriguing Romanesque example is the Templars’ church of La Vera Cruz at Segovia (1204), which is twelve-sided with three apses and features a central chapel designed to emulate the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem.

The buildings which come next in point of date are all evidently derived from or erected by the architects of those which were at the time being built in the south of France. These churches are uniform in plan, with central lanterns and three eastern apses. The nave has usually a waggon or barrel vault, supported by quadrant vaults in the aisles, and the steeples are frequently polygonal in plan. If these churches are compared with examples like that of the cathedral at Carcassonne on the other side of the Pyrenees, their identity in style will at once be seen. A still more remarkable evidence of similarity has been pointed out between the church of St Sernin, Toulouse, and the cathedral of Santiago. The plan, proportions and general design of the two churches are identical. Here we see a noble ground-plan, consisting of nave with aisles, transepts, central lantern and chevet, consisting of an apsidal choir, with a surrounding aisle and chapels opening into it at intervals. This example is the more remarkable, inasmuch as the early Spanish architects very rarely built a regular chevel, and almost always preferred the simpler plan of apsidal chapels on either side of the choir. And its magnificent scale and perfect preservation to the present day combine to make it one of the most interesting architectural relics in the country.

The buildings that come next in chronological order are clearly inspired by or built by the architects of those that were being constructed in the south of France at the time. These churches share a uniform design, featuring central lanterns and three eastern apses. The nave typically has a waggon or barrel vault, supported by quadrant vaults in the aisles, and the steeples are often polygonal. When these churches are compared to examples like the cathedral in Carcassonne on the other side of the Pyrenees, their stylistic similarities become immediately apparent. An even more striking example of this similarity can be seen between the church of St Sernin in Toulouse and the cathedral of Santiago. The layout, proportions, and overall design of the two churches are identical. Here we have an impressive ground plan, consisting of a nave with aisles, transepts, a central lantern, and a chevet that includes an apsidal choir with an adjoining aisle and chapels that open into it at intervals. This example is especially remarkable since early Spanish architects rarely constructed a regular chevel and almost always opted for the simpler layout of apsidal chapels on either side of the choir. Its magnificent scale and excellent preservation to this day make it one of the most fascinating architectural relics in the country.

Among the more remarkable buildings of the 12th and the beginning in the 13th century are San Isidore, Leon; San Vicente, Avila; several churches in Segovia; and the old cathedral at Lerida. They are much more uniform in character than are the churches of the same period in the various provinces of France, and the developments in style, where they are seen at all, seldom have much appearance of being natural local developments. This, indeed, is the most marked feature of Spanish architecture in all periods of its history. In such a country it might have been expected that many interesting local developments would have been seen; but of these there are but one or two that deserve notice. One of them is illustrated admirably in the church of San Millan, Segovia, where beyond the aisles of the nave are open cloisters or aisles arcaded on the outside, and opening by doors into the aisles of the nave. A similar external south portico exists in San Miguel de Escalada, already referred to, Santo Domingo, Burgos, and San Estéban at Segovia. It would be difficult to devise a more charming arrangement for buildings in a hot country, whilst at the same time the architectural effect is in the highest degree beautiful. The universality of the central tower and lantern has been already mentioned. This was often polygonal, and its use led to the erection of some lanterns or domes of almost unique beauty and interest. The old cathedral at Salamanca, the church at Toro and the cathedral of Zamora, all deserve most careful study on this score. Their lanterns are almost too lofty in proportion to be properly called domes, and yet their treatment inside and outside suggests a very beautiful form of raised dome. They are carried on pointed arches, and are circular in plan internally and octagonal on the exterior, the angles of the octagon being filled with large turrets, which add much to the beauty of the design, and greatly also to its strength. Between the supporting arches and the vault there are, at Salamanca, two tiers of arcades continued all round the lantern, the lower one pierced with four, and the upper with twelve lights, and the vault or dome is decorated with ribs radiating from the centre. On the exterior the effect is rather that of a low steeple covered with a stone roof with spherical sides than of a dome, but the design is so novel and so suggestive, that it is well worth detailed description. Nothing can be more happy than the way in which the light is admitted, whilst it is also to be noted that the whole work is of stone, and that there is nothing in the design but what is essentially permanent and monumental in construction. The only other Spanish development is the introduction, to a very moderate extent, of features derived from the practice of the Moorish architects. This is, however, much less seen than might have been expected, and is usually confined to some small feature of detail, such, e.g. as the carving of a boss, or the filling in of small tracery in circular windows, where it would in no way clash with the generally Christian character of the art.

Among the most remarkable buildings of the 12th and early 13th centuries are San Isidore in León, San Vicente in Ávila, several churches in Segovia, and the old cathedral in Lérida. They are much more consistent in style than the churches from the same period in various regions of France, and when style shifts do occur, they rarely seem like natural local developments. This is indeed the most striking aspect of Spanish architecture throughout its history. In such a diverse country, one would expect to see many interesting local styles; however, there are only a couple that are noteworthy. One example is the church of San Millán in Segovia, which features open cloisters or arcaded aisles outside the nave, with doors leading into the nave's aisles. A similar external southern portico can be found in San Miguel de Escalada, Santo Domingo in Burgos, and San Esteban in Segovia. It would be hard to create a more appealing layout for buildings in a hot climate, and at the same time, the architectural effect is incredibly beautiful. The widespread use of the central tower and lantern has already been mentioned. This was often polygonal, leading to the construction of some lanterns or domes of nearly unique beauty and interest. The old cathedral in Salamanca, the church in Toro, and the cathedral in Zamora all merit careful study in this regard. Their lanterns are almost too tall to be accurately called domes, yet their interior and exterior designs suggest a very elegant form of a raised dome. They rest on pointed arches and have a circular plan inside and an octagonal shape outside, with large turrets at the octagon's angles that enhance the design's beauty and strength. In Salamanca, between the supporting arches and the vault, there are two tiers of arcades surrounding the lantern: the lower tier has four openings and the upper tier has twelve lights, while the vault or dome features ribs radiating from the center. Externally, it resembles a low steeple topped with a stone roof and spherical sides more than a dome, but the design is so innovative and evocative that it deserves detailed description. The manner in which light is let in is exceptionally well done, and it's important to note that the entire structure is made of stone, ensuring that the design is fundamentally permanent and monumental. The only other Spanish development is a limited incorporation of features borrowed from Moorish architecture. However, this is far less common than one might expect, typically limited to minor details such as carved bosses or small tracery in circular windows that blend seamlessly with the overall Christian character of the art.

The debateable period of transition which is usually so interesting is very sterile in Spain. A good model once adopted from the French was adhered to with but little modification, and it was not till the 13th-century style was well established in France and England that any introduction of its features is seen here; and then, again, it is the work of foreign architects imported for the work and occasion, bringing with them a fully developed style to which nothing whatever in Spain itself led up by a natural or evident development. The three great Spanish churches of this period are the cathedrals of Toledo, Leon and Burgos (Plate II., fig. 65). Those of Siguënza, Lerida and Tarragona, fine as they are, illustrate the art of the 12th rather than of the 13th century, but these three great churches are perfect Early Pointed works, and most complete in all their parts. The cathedral of Toledo is one of the most nobly designed churches in Europe. In dimensions it is surpassed only by the cathedrals of Milan and Seville, whilst in beauty of plan it leaves both those great churches far behind. The chevet, in which two broad aisles are carried round the apse with chapels alternately square and apsidal opening out of them, is perhaps the most perfect of all the schemes we know. It is as if the French chevets, all of which were more or less tentative in their plan, had culminated in this grand work to which they had led the way. The architectural detail of this great church is generally on a par with the beauty and grandeur of its plan, but is perhaps surpassed by the somewhat later church at Leon. Here we have a church built by architects whose sole idea was the erection of a building with as few and small points of support as possible, and with the largest possible amount of window opening. It was the work of men whose art had been formed in a country where as much sun and light as possible were necessary, and is quite unsuited for such a country as Spain. Nevertheless it is a building of rare beauty and delicacy of design. Burgos, better known than either of the others, is inferior in scale and interest, and its character has been much altered by added works more or less Rococo in character, so that it is only by analysis and investigation that the 13th-century church is still seen under and behind the more modern excrescences.

The often fascinating transitional period is quite dull in Spain. Once a solid model was adopted from the French, it was followed with minimal changes, and not until the 13th-century style was firmly established in France and England did we see any of its features introduced here; even then, it was primarily the work of foreign architects brought in for specific projects, who came with a fully developed style that had no natural or obvious development in Spain itself. The three major Spanish churches from this period are the cathedrals of Toledo, Leon, and Burgos (Plate II., fig. 65). The cathedrals of Siguënza, Lerida, and Tarragona, though impressive, reflect the art of the 12th century rather than the 13th. However, these three main churches are exemplary Early Pointed works, complete in all their aspects. The cathedral of Toledo is one of the most beautifully designed churches in Europe. It is surpassed in size only by the cathedrals of Milan and Seville, yet in terms of architectural beauty, it overshadows both of those great churches. The chevet, where two wide aisles run around the apse with chapels that open alternately square and apsidal, is possibly the most refined design we know of. It feels as though all the French chevets, which were somewhat tentative in their plans, reached their peak with this magnificent structure to which they had guided us. The architectural details of this grand church generally match the beauty and grandeur of its layout, though it might be outdone by the slightly later church at Leon. Here, the builders aimed to create a structure with as few and small support points as possible, maximizing window openings. This was crafted by architects from a region that valued sunlight and brightness, making it somewhat unsuitable for the context of Spain. Nevertheless, it is a building of exceptional beauty and fine design. Burgos, which is better known than the other two, is less impressive both in scale and interest, and its character has been significantly changed by added features that are more or less Rococo in style, so that it is only through careful analysis that the 13th-century church can still be discerned beneath the more modern additions.

The next period is again marked by work which seems to be that of foreigners. The fully developed Middle Pointed or Geometrical Gothic is indeed very uniform all over Europe. Here, however, its efforts were neither grand in scale nor interesting. Some of the church furniture, as, e.g. the choir screens at Toledo, and some of the cloisters, are among the best features. The work is all correct, tame and academical, and has none of the dignity, power and interest which marked the earlier Spanish buildings. Towards the end of the 14th century the work of Spanish architects becomes infinitely more interesting. The country was free from trouble with the Moors; it was rich and prosperous, and certainly its buildings at this period were so numerous, so grand and so original, that they cannot be too much praised. Moreover, they were carefully designed to suit the requirements of the climate, and also with a sole view to the accommodation conveniently of enormous congregations, all within sight of the preacher or the altar. This last development seems to have been very much the work of a great architect of Majorca, Jayme Fabre by name. The grandest works of his school are still to be seen in Catalonia. Their churches are so vast in their dimensions that the largest French and English buildings seem to be small by comparison, and being invariably covered with stone vaults, they cannot be compared to the great wooden-roofed churches of the preaching orders in Italy and elsewhere, in which the only approach is made to their magnificent dimensions. The cathedral of Gerona is the most remarkable example. Here the choir is planned like the French chevet with an aisle and chapels round it, and opens with three lofty arches into the east wall of a nave which measures no less than 73 ft. in the clear, and is covered with a stone vaulted ceiling. In Barcelona there are several churches of very similar description; at Manresa another, but with aisles to its nave; and at Palma in Majorca one of the same plan as the last, but of even much larger dimensions. Perhaps there is no effort of any local school of architects more worthy of study and respect than this Catalonian work of the 14th and 15th centuries. Such a happy combination of noble design and proportions with entirely practical objects places its author among the very greatest architects of any time. It is one thing to develop patiently step by step from the work of one’s fathers in art, quite another to strike out an entirely new form by a new combination of the old elements. In comparison with the works just mentioned the other great Spanish churches of the 15th century are uninteresting. But still their scale is grand and though their detail is over-elaborated and not beautiful, it is impossible to deny the superb effect of the interior of such churches as those of Seville, Segovia and Salamanca (new cathedral). They 401 are very similar in their character, their columns are formed by the prolongation of the reedy mouldings of the arches, their window traceries are poorly designed, and their roofs are covered with a complex multitude of lierne ribs. Yet the scale is fine, the admission of light, generally high up and in sparing quantity, is artistic, and much of the furniture is either picturesque or interesting. The tout ensemble is generally very striking, even where the architectural purist is apt to grumble at the shortcomings of most of the detail.

The next period again features work that seems to be done by outsiders. The fully developed Middle Pointed or Geometrical Gothic style is indeed quite uniform across Europe. However, here, its efforts were neither grand in scale nor particularly interesting. Some of the church furnishings, like the choir screens in Toledo, and some of the cloisters, are among the best aspects. The work is all correct, tame, and conventional, lacking the dignity, power, and interest that characterized earlier Spanish buildings. Towards the end of the 14th century, the work of Spanish architects becomes much more engaging. The country was free from conflicts with the Moors; it was rich and thriving, and certainly, its buildings during this period were so numerous, grand, and original that they deserve high praise. Moreover, they were carefully designed to suit the climate and to conveniently accommodate large congregations, all within sight of the preacher or the altar. This last development seems to have been largely the work of a great architect from Majorca, named Jayme Fabre. The most impressive works of his school can still be seen in Catalonia. Their churches are so vast that the largest French and English buildings appear small by comparison, and since they are always covered with stone vaults, they cannot be compared to the great wooden-roofed churches of the preaching orders in Italy and elsewhere, where only a hint at their magnificent dimensions can be found. The cathedral of Gerona is the most notable example. Here, the choir is designed like the French chevet with an aisle and chapels around it, and opens with three tall arches into the east wall of a nave that measures no less than 73 feet clear, and is covered with a stone vaulted ceiling. In Barcelona, there are several churches of a very similar description; in Manresa, another one, but with aisles in its nave; and in Palma, Majorca, one of the same plan as the last but even larger. Perhaps there is no work from a local school of architects more deserving of study and respect than this Catalonian work from the 14th and 15th centuries. Such a fortunate combination of noble design and proportions with entirely practical objectives places its creator among the greatest architects of any era. It takes patience to develop step by step from the artistic heritage of one’s predecessors, but it is quite another thing to create an entirely new form by combining old elements in a new way. Compared to the works just mentioned, the other great Spanish churches of the 15th century are less interesting. Yet, their scale is impressive, and although their detail is overdone and lacks beauty, it is impossible to deny the stunning effect of the interiors of churches like those in Seville, Segovia, and Salamanca (new cathedral). They are very similar in character, with columns formed by extending the reedy moldings of the arches, poorly designed window traceries, and roofs featuring a complex network of lierne ribs. Nonetheless, the scale is striking, the high admission of light is artistic, and much of the furnishings are picturesque or intriguing. The overall effect is generally very impressive, even where architectural purists may grumble about the shortcomings in much of the detail.

Plate V.

Plate V.

Photo, Alinari. Photo, Lacoste.
Fig. 72.—DOOR OF SAN MICHELE, PAVIA. Fig. 73.—UNIVERSITY, SALAMANCA.
Photo, Lacoste.
Fig. 74.—TOWN HALL, SEVILLE.

Plate VI.

Plate 6.

Photo, F. Frith & Co.
Fig. 75.—BANQUETING HOUSE, WHITEHALL.
Photo, F. Frith & Co.
Fig. 76.—WOLLATON HALL.
Photo, Stuart.
Fig. 77.—HAMPTON COURT.

The remarks which have been made so far have been confined to the fabrics of the churches of Spain. It would be easy to add largely to them by reference to the furniture which still so often adorns them, unaltered even if uncared for; to the monuments of the mighty dead; to the sculpture which frequently adorns the doorways and screens; and to the cloisters, chapter-houses and other dependent buildings, which add so much charm in every way to them. Besides this, there are very numerous castles, often planned on the grandest scale, and some, if not very many, interesting remains of domestic houses and palaces; and most of these, being to some extent flavoured by the neighbourhood of Moorish architects, have more character of their own than has been accorded to the churches. Finally, there are considerable tracts of country in which brick was the only material used; and it is curious that this is almost always more or less Moorish in the character of its detail. The Moors were great brickmakers. Their elaborate reticulated enrichments were easily executed in it, and the example set by them was, of course, more likely to be followed by Spaniards than that of the nearest French brick building district in the region of Toulouse. The brick towers are often very picturesque; several are to be seen at Toledo, others at Saragossa, and, perhaps the most graceful of all, in the old city of Tarazona in Aragon, where the proportions are extremely lofty, the face of the walls everywhere adorned with sunk panels, arcading, or ornamental brickwork, and at the base there is a bold battered slope which gives a great air of strength and stability to the whole. On the whole, it must be concluded that the medieval architecture of Spain from the 12th century is of less interest than that of most other countries, because its development was hardly ever a national one. The architects were imported at one time from France, at another from the Low Countries, and they brought with them all their own local fashions, and carried them into execution in the strictest manner; and it was not till the end of the 14th century, and even then only in Catalonia, that any buildings which could be called really Spanish in their character were erected.

The comments made so far have focused on the structures of the churches in Spain. It would be easy to expand this discussion by mentioning the furniture that still often decorates them, unaltered even if neglected; the monuments of notable figures; the sculptures that often embellish the doorways and screens; and the cloisters, chapter houses, and other supporting buildings that add so much charm to them. Additionally, there are many castles, often designed on a grand scale, and some, if not many, intriguing remnants of homes and palaces. Most of these, influenced by the nearby Moorish architects, have a unique character that surpasses that of the churches. Lastly, there are significant areas where brick was the only material used, and it’s interesting that this is almost always somewhat Moorish in its detailed style. The Moors were excellent brickmakers. Their intricate reticulated decorations were easily created with it, and the example they set was more likely to be followed by Spaniards than that of the nearest French brickmaking region in Toulouse. The brick towers are often very picturesque; several can be seen in Toledo, others in Saragossa, and perhaps the most elegant of all in the old city of Tarazona in Aragon, where the proportions are extremely tall, the walls are adorned everywhere with recessed panels, arcades, or decorative brickwork, and at the base, there is a bold battered slope that adds a strong sense of stability to the entire structure. Overall, it can be concluded that medieval architecture in Spain from the 12th century is less interesting than that of most other countries because its development was hardly ever a national one. The architects were at times imported from France and at other times from the Low Countries, bringing with them their local styles and executing them strictly; it wasn't until the late 14th century, and even then only in Catalonia, that any buildings could really be considered distinctly Spanish in character.

(R. P. S.)

Romanesque and Gothic Architecture in England

Romanesque and Gothic Architecture in England

Pre-Conquest.—The history of English architecture before the Norman Conquest is still only imperfectly known. Its parentage is triple: Roman, Celtic and Teutonic. To the first belongs the general building tradition of the Romanized West, and the influence of the mission of Augustine at the end of the 6th century, and of such men as Wilfrid in the 7th. The Celtic element is due to the Scottish (Irish) church, which never gained much hold on the south of England, while the Teutonic influence shows itself in the later developments, which are allied to the early buildings of kindred peoples in Germany. Fragments of existing early churches have been attributed to the time of the Roman occupation, but all are doubtful, with the exception of the remains of what is believed to have been a Christian church excavated at Silchester in 1892. This was a basilica of ordinary form, comprising an apse with western orientation, nave and aisles, transepts of slight projection, and narthex. Augustine’s cathedral church of Canterbury, which he had learned was originally constructed by the labours of Roman believers (Bede), was also a basilica with western apse; its eastern apse and confessio beneath were probably a later addition. Remains of early churches are found on several sites where churches are recorded to have been built during the missionary period. Of these, Reculver (c. 670) and Brixworth (c. 680) have aisled naves and eastern apses. At Brixworth a square bay intervenes between the apse and the nave. St Pancras, Canterbury, of the time of Augustine, Rochester (604), and Lyminge (founded 633), show unaisled naves of relatively wide proportion, with eastern apses of stilted curve. In some of these churches there was a triple arcade in front of the sanctuary, in place of the usual “triumphal arch.” The technique shows Roman influence, and Roman materials are largely used. The existing crypts of Hexham and Ripon were built by Wilfrid, c. 675. The description of Wilfrid’s church at Hexham gives the impression of an elaborate structure (columnis variis et porticibus multis suffultam). Wilfrid also built at Hexham a church of central plan, with projections (porticus) on the four sides, a type of which no example has survived in England. Escomb (Durham) and parts of Monkwearmouth and Jarrow, which are attributed to the same period, have plans of an entirely different type—a relatively long and narrow nave, with small square-ended chancel—a plan, usually attributed to Celtic influence, which is most extensively represented in churches recognized as Saxon.

Pre-Conquest.—The history of English architecture before the Norman Conquest is still not completely understood. It has three main influences: Roman, Celtic, and Teutonic. The Roman influence includes the general building traditions of the Romanized West and the effects of Augustine’s mission at the end of the 6th century, along with figures like Wilfrid in the 7th century. The Celtic influence comes from the Scottish (Irish) church, which never made a strong impact in southern England, while the Teutonic influence is evident in later developments linked to early buildings of similar peoples in Germany. Some surviving early churches are thought to date back to the Roman occupation, but all are questionable, except for the remains of what is believed to be a Christian church found at Silchester in 1892. This structure was a typical basilica, featuring an apse facing west, a nave with aisles, slightly projecting transepts, and a narthex. Augustine’s cathedral in Canterbury, which he learned was originally built by Roman Christians (Bede), was also a basilica with a western apse; its eastern apse and confessio below were likely later additions. Remnants of early churches exist at several locations where churches were documented to have been built during the missionary period. Among these, Reculver (c. 670) and Brixworth (c. 680) have aisled naves and eastern apses. At Brixworth, there is a square bay between the apse and the nave. St Pancras in Canterbury, from Augustine’s time, Rochester (604), and Lyminge (founded 633) feature wide unaisled naves and eastern apses with a stilted curve. In some of these churches, there was a triple arcade in front of the sanctuary instead of the usual “triumphal arch.” This technique shows Roman influence, and Roman materials were extensively used. The existing crypts of Hexham and Ripon were constructed by Wilfrid, c. 675. Descriptions of Wilfrid’s church at Hexham suggest it was a complex structure (columnis variis et porticibus multis suffultam). Wilfrid also built a central-plan church at Hexham, with projections (porticus) on all four sides, a design of which no examples have survived in England. Escomb (Durham) and parts of Monkwearmouth and Jarrow, attributed to the same period, have plans of a very different style—a relatively long and narrow nave with a small square-ended chancel—a layout usually linked to Celtic influence, which is most commonly found in churches identified as Saxon.

The evolution of the characteristic features of pre-Conquest architecture was slow, and was doubtless greatly hindered by the invasions of the Northmen from the end of the 8th century onward, but germs of the fully developed style are to be found in the earliest buildings. The western tower, usually of tall and slender proportion, was developed from the western porch found at St Pancras, Canterbury, and Monkwearmouth; sometimes, as in the latter church, actually raised over the older porch. The lateral chapels of St Pancras, which existed also in the Saxon cathedral of Canterbury, were developed into a transept, culminating in the cruciform plan with central tower. The characteristic “long-and-short” work, which consists of tall upright stones alternating with stones bedded flat bonding into the rubble work of the wall, has its prototype in the western arch of the porch of Monkwearmouth, and in the jambs of the chancel arch at Escomb. Sometimes the flat stones are cut back on the face, so that the plaster which covered the rubble extended up to the line of the upright stones, thus giving the quoin the appearance of a narrow pilaster. The repetition of these pilasters on the face of the walling constitutes rib-work, and these ribs are frequently connected by semicircular or so-called “triangular” arches, forming a land of rude arcading (Earls Barton, Barton-on-Humber.) Windows in the earliest Saxon work are generally wide in proportion, and splayed on the inside only; in the later work they commonly have splays both on the inside and outside. Doorways have square jambs, without splay or rebate; sometimes the jambs of doorways and windows are inclined, as in early buildings in Ireland. Imposts to doorways, tower arches or chancel arches are often square projecting blocks, sometimes chamfered on the lower edge. The mid-wall shaft is a characteristic feature in the belfry openings of Saxon towers; it supports an impost or through-stone, of the full thickness of the wall, which receives the semicircular arches over the openings. The method is analogous to that commonly found in northern Italy and the Rhineland. Sometimes the mid-wall shaft is a baluster, turned in a lathe. In some of the later belfry openings, a capital intervenes between the mid-wall shaft and the impost. The dating of buildings of this style is at present a matter of considerable difficulty, but certain points, such as the development of the cruciform plan, are useful for comparison. A fully developed cross church was built at Romsey in 969, having also a single axial western tower, and this seems to have been the normal type of a large church in the later years of the style. Cruciform plans, not yet fully developed, are found at Deerhurst, Breamore and St Mary in the castle at Dover, and fully developed at Norton (Durham) and Stow (Lincolnshire). The most advanced detail which occurs in pre-Conquest buildings is the recessing of arches in orders. But for the Conquest, English architecture might have developed somewhat on the lines of contemporary work in Germany. It must be remembered, however, that, although the Norman Conquest marks the beginning of a new epoch in English architecture, the Norman manner had already been introduced into England under Edward the Confessor, as is proved by the considerable remains of that king’s work at Westminster Abbey.

The evolution of the key features of pre-Conquest architecture was gradual and was definitely slowed down by the invasions of the Vikings from the late 8th century onward. However, elements of the fully developed style can be found in the earliest buildings. The western tower, typically tall and slender, evolved from the western porch at St Pancras, Canterbury, and Monkwearmouth; sometimes, as in the latter church, it was actually built above the older porch. The side chapels of St Pancras, which were also seen in the Saxon cathedral of Canterbury, were developed into a transept, leading to the cruciform layout with a central tower. The distinctive "long-and-short" work, which consists of tall upright stones alternating with flat-bedded stones integrated into the wall's rubble, has its origins in the western arch of the porch at Monkwearmouth and in the jambs of the chancel arch at Escomb. Sometimes, the flat stones are cut back on the face so that the plaster covering the rubble reaches up to the line of the upright stones, creating the appearance of a narrow pilaster. The repetition of these pilasters on the wall surface forms rib-work, with these ribs often connected by semicircular or so-called "triangular" arches, creating a sort of rough arcading (see Earls Barton, Barton-on-Humber). Windows in the earliest Saxon work are generally wide and only splayed on the inside; in later work, they typically have splays both inside and outside. Doorways have square jambs, without splay or rebate; sometimes, the jambs of doorways and windows are slanted, as seen in early buildings in Ireland. Imposts for doorways, tower arches, or chancel arches are often square projecting blocks, sometimes beveled on the lower edge. The mid-wall shaft is a characteristic feature in the belfry openings of Saxon towers; it supports an impost or through-stone, which is the full thickness of the wall and supports the semicircular arches over the openings. This method is similar to what is commonly found in northern Italy and the Rhineland. Sometimes the mid-wall shaft takes the form of a baluster, turned on a lathe. In some later belfry openings, a capital is located between the mid-wall shaft and the impost. The dating of buildings in this style is currently quite challenging, but certain features, like the development of the cruciform plan, are helpful for comparison. A fully developed cross church was built at Romsey in 969, which also had a single central western tower, and this appears to have been the typical design of a large church in the later years of this style. Less developed cruciform plans can be found at Deerhurst, Breamore, and St Mary’s in the castle at Dover, while fully developed plans are evident at Norton (Durham) and Stow (Lincolnshire). The most advanced detail seen in pre-Conquest buildings is the recessing of arches in orders. Without the Conquest, English architecture might have evolved somewhat along the lines of contemporary designs in Germany. It's important to note, however, that even though the Norman Conquest marks the start of a new era in English architecture, the Norman style had already begun to appear in England under Edward the Confessor, as evidenced by the significant remains of that king’s work at Westminster Abbey.

The succeeding periods of English architecture have been divided into so-called “styles” or “periods,” though it should be recognized that all such hard and fast divisions are purely artificial, and that, apart from the objection that they exaggerate the importance of mere details, they tend to obscure the fact that the history of Gothic architecture is a history of continuous development. The following classifications, those of Thomas Rickman and Edmund Sharpe, are in most general use for the present by such students as are not content with a nomenclature based on simple chronology:—

The later stages of English architecture have been split into various “styles” or “periods.” However, it’s important to understand that these strict divisions are completely artificial. Besides the issue that they overemphasize minor details, they also blur the reality that the history of Gothic architecture shows a continuous evolution. The following classifications, created by Thomas Rickman and Edmund Sharpe, are currently the most commonly used among students who seek a naming system that goes beyond just simple chronological order:—

Rickman. Sharpe.
1066-1189 Norman. 1066-1145 Norman.
  1145-1190 Transitional.
1189-1307 Early English. 1190-1245 Lancet.
  1245-1315 Geometrical.
1307-1377 Decorated. 1315-1360 Curvilinear.
1377-1546 Perpendicular. 1360-1550 Rectilinear.

Norman Conquest to c. 1150.—At the time of the Conquest of England, the Norman school was already one of the most advanced Romanesque schools of western Europe. Its marked individuality and logical character are clearly expressed in the abbey churches of Jumièges and St Étienne and Sainte-Trinité at Caen, and it quickly supplanted the less advanced Romanesque 402 manner of the conquered English. As soon as the conqueror had made himself master in his new kingdom, cathedral and abbey churches were rebuilt on a scale hitherto unknown either in Normandy or England. As the effect of the Norman Conquest was to incorporate the church in England more closely with western Christendom, so its effect on architecture was to bring it into line with the best continental achievement of its time. The immense energy of the Norman bishops and abbots gave such a stimulus to architecture that by the close of the 11th century, England, rather than Normandy, had become the real foyer of the Norman school.

Norman Conquest to c. 1150.—At the time of the Conquest of England, the Norman school was already one of the most advanced Romanesque schools in western Europe. Its distinct individuality and logical design are clearly seen in the abbey churches of Jumièges and St Étienne and Sainte-Trinité at Caen, and it quickly replaced the less developed Romanesque style of the conquered English. Once the conqueror established control over his new kingdom, cathedral and abbey churches were rebuilt on a scale never before seen in either Normandy or England. The Norman Conquest's impact on the church in England brought it closer to western Christendom, and its impact on architecture aligned it with the best continental achievements of the time. The immense energy of the Norman bishops and abbots provided such a boost to architecture that by the end of the 11th century, England, not Normandy, had become the true foyer of the Norman school.

The plans of the larger churches show greater development in the length of choir, transept and nave than was usual in Normandy. Many follow the type of choir plan generally represented in the contemporary churches of Normandy which have survived—a central apse, flanked by an apse terminating each aisle, but the two bays usual in the Norman churches frequently became four in England. The Confessor’s church of Westminster seems to have had an ambulatory with radiating chapels, a plan which, although rare in the surviving churches of Normandy, was adopted in several of the more important English churches (St Augustine’s, Canterbury; Winchester; Worcester; Gloucester; Bury St Edmunds; Norwich; Tewkesbury). Some of these have great vaulted crypts extending under the choir and its aisles. The transept, generally of considerable length, has one or more apsidal chapels on the east side of each arm, or an eastern aisle, or even (as at Winchester and Ely) both eastern and western aisles. The lantern-tower over the crossing was a characteristic feature in England, as in Normandy. Frequently the nave was of great length, extending to twelve bays at Winchester, thirteen at Ely, and fourteen at Norwich. Some churches, as Ely, Bury St Edmunds, and later Peterborough (Plate VIII., fig. 81), show a western transept, with corresponding development of the west front. Two western towers are most usual, but Ely (Plate II., fig. 67), and originally Winchester, had the single western tower, a survival from pre-Conquest times, which is found also in numberless parish churches. In their general design, the Norman churches show great skill in composition, and in the logical expression of structure, and sure grasp of the problems to be solved. The subordination of arches (arches built in rings, or orders, recessed one within the other) was carried further than in other Romanesque schools, and with this went the subordination of the pier, planned with a shaft to receive each order of the semicircular arch. Sometimes the shafted piers of the great arcades alternate with cylindrical (or later with octagonal) pillars; sometimes, as at Gloucester and Tewkesbury, all the pillars are cylindrical. The triforium usually has a single wide semicircular arched opening, enclosing two or more minor semicircular arches springing from detached shafts. Usually the aisle wall is carried up to form a complete triforium storey, unvaulted, and lighted by windows in the outer wall. The clerestory has a single window in each bay, with a wall passage between the window and an internal arcade, usually of three semicircular arches on shafts, the central arch being wider than the side arches. Most frequently naves and transepts were unvaulted, and finished with wood ceilings, while the aisles were covered with groined vaults of rubble, on transverse arches. The general design of the greater churches indicates, however, that the Norman builders were aiming at a completely vaulted structure. The half-barrel vault over the triforium of Gloucester, and the transverse arches over the triforium of Chichester, seem to be constructed to afford the necessary abutment to vaults over the choir, such indeed as still exist over some choirs in Normandy built before the end of the 11th century. The problem was only successfully solved by the introduction of the diagonal rib, which completed the structural membering of the vault. Durham, begun in 1093 (fig. 42), is the earliest example in England of this important innovation, and it precedes by some quarter of a century the earliest ribbed vaults of the Île-de-France. The abutting arches under the roof of its triforium are actually rudimentary flying-buttresses, and we have here all the essential elements of Gothic architecture, except the pointed arch, which is only systematically used in English vaulted construction from about the middle of the 12th century. The decorative forms of the earlier buildings of the Norman school are severely simple. Arches, which at first were usually unmoulded, soon received effective mouldings of rolls and hollows, continuing a tradition of the latest pre-Conquest architecture. Two types of capitals are found in the earlier buildings after the Conquest; the volute capital, descended from the Corinthian, which was the normal type in Normandy; and the cubic or cushion capital, formed by the penetration of a segment of a sphere, or segments of cones, with a cube, a type which, appearing earlier in England than in Normandy, was doubtless derived from pre-Conquest models, and in the 12th century developed into the scalloped capital. The decoration of wall-surfaces by arcades, frequently of intersecting semicircular arches, is characteristic of the Norman school. Windows are splayed in the interior, and in the more important buildings are enriched with shafts and moulded arches. Ornamentation is frequently concentrated on the doorways, which are often of many orders, with a shaft under each order. Based chiefly on geometric forms, such as the chevron or zigzag, star, fret and cable, the decoration becomes richer and more refined as the 12th century advances, though in sculpture the Norman was less advanced than some other Romanesque schools.

The designs of larger churches show more progress in the length of the choir, transept, and nave than was typical in Normandy. Many follow the choir plan commonly seen in surviving contemporary Normandy churches, featuring a central apse with an apse at the end of each aisle. However, the two bays typical in Norman churches often expanded to four in England. The Confessor’s church at Westminster appears to have had an ambulatory with radiating chapels, a layout that, while uncommon in surviving Normandy churches, was adopted in several major English churches (St Augustine’s, Canterbury; Winchester; Worcester; Gloucester; Bury St Edmunds; Norwich; Tewkesbury). Some of these churches have substantial vaulted crypts extending beneath the choir and its aisles. The transept, usually quite lengthy, has one or more apsidal chapels on the east side of each arm, or an eastern aisle, or even (as seen at Winchester and Ely) both eastern and western aisles. The lantern tower over the crossing was a distinctive feature in England, just like in Normandy. Often, the nave was quite long, extending to twelve bays at Winchester, thirteen at Ely, and fourteen at Norwich. Some churches, such as Ely, Bury St Edmunds, and later Peterborough (Plate VIII., fig. 81), feature a western transept, which corresponds with the development of the west front. Two western towers are standard, but Ely (Plate II., fig. 67) and originally Winchester had a single western tower, a remnant from pre-Conquest times, which is also commonly found in numerous parish churches. In general design, Norman churches display impressive skill in composition, logically expressing structure and a clear understanding of the issues to be addressed. The subordination of arches (arches built in rings or orders, recessed one within another) was pursued more in depth than in other Romanesque styles, which also included the subordination of the pier, designed with a shaft to support each order of the semicircular arch. Sometimes the shafted piers of the grand arcades alternate with cylindrical (or later octagonal) columns; other times, as in Gloucester and Tewkesbury, all the columns are cylindrical. The triforium generally has a single wide semicircular arch that encloses two or more minor semicircular arches supported by detached shafts. Usually, the aisle wall is raised to form a complete triforium level, unvaulted, and lit by windows in the outer wall. The clerestory features a single window in each bay, with a wall passage between the window and an internal arcade, typically consisting of three semicircular arches on shafts, with the central arch wider than the side arches. Naves and transepts were mostly unvaulted, finished with wooden ceilings, while the aisles were topped with groined vaults made of rubble, supported by transverse arches. However, the overall design of the larger churches suggests that Norman builders aimed for a fully vaulted structure. The half-barrel vault over the triforium of Gloucester and the transverse arches over the triforium of Chichester seem designed to provide the necessary support for vaults over the choir, similar to those still found over certain choirs in Normandy built before the end of the 11th century. The challenge was only successfully met with the introduction of the diagonal rib, which completed the structural aspects of the vault. Durham, begun in 1093 (fig. 42), is the first example in England of this significant innovation and predates the earliest ribbed vaults in Île-de-France by about a quarter of a century. The supporting arches beneath the roof of its triforium are essentially rudimentary flying buttresses, and here, we see all the basic components of Gothic architecture, except for the pointed arch, which was systematically utilized in English vaulted construction from around the middle of the 12th century. The decorative styles of earlier Norman buildings are quite plain. Arches, initially usually unmoulded, soon featured effective mouldings of rolls and hollows, continuing a tradition from the latest pre-Conquest architecture. Two types of capitals appear in early post-Conquest buildings: the volute capital, derived from the Corinthian, which was standard in Normandy, and the cubic or cushion capital, formed by combining a segment of a sphere or cone with a cube, a type that appeared in England earlier than in Normandy, likely derived from pre-Conquest models, and developed into the scalloped capital during the 12th century. The decoration of wall surfaces with arcades, often made up of intersecting semicircular arches, is a defining feature of the Norman style. Windows are splayed on the interior, and in more significant buildings, they are embellished with shafts and moulded arches. Ornamentation frequently focuses on doorways, which often consist of multiple orders, with a shaft beneath each order. Based primarily on geometric shapes such as chevrons, stars, frets, and cables, the decoration becomes richer and more intricate as the 12th century progresses; however, in sculpture, the Normans were less advanced than some other Romanesque schools.

From Rickman’s Styles of Architecture, by permission of Parker & Co.
Fig. 42.—Plan of Durham Cathedral.

The foregoing generalization applies more particularly to the greater churches, but numberless parish churches present similar characteristics. Chancels are sometimes apsidal, but by far the most prevalent type of plan is the aisleless oblong nave and square-ended chancel, with or without a western tower. Other types of aisleless plans are the cruciform church with central tower, or simply nave and chancel with central tower. Even where subsequent alterations and rebuildings have destroyed almost everything, the influence of these plans on the later work is the key to a right understanding of the history of the greater number of English medieval churches.

The previous generalization applies especially to larger churches, but countless parish churches share similar features. Chancels are sometimes rounded, but the most common layout is the aisleless rectangular nave and square-ended chancel, with or without a western tower. Other types of aisleless designs include the cruciform church with a central tower, or just a nave and chancel with a central tower. Even if later renovations and rebuilds have erased nearly all original elements, the impact of these designs on later work is essential for understanding the history of most English medieval churches.

12th Century (second half).—The second half of the 12th century is the period of transition par excellence—of transition from Romanesque to Gothic. The school of the Île-de-France, which up to c. 1120 was one of the most backward of the Romanesque schools, had made enormous progress when the ambulatory of Suger’s church of Saint-Denis was built (1140-1144), and thenceforth it continued to lead the way. There is no doubt that, from the middle of the 12th century, English architecture was continuously influenced by the Île-de-France, for the most part through Normandy, but it must be considered to be a development on parallel lines, with strongly marked characteristics of its own, and not merely as an importation of forms already developed elsewhere. At the same time, the influence of the Cistercian revival was considerable, not so much in the introduction of foreign forms as in the direction of simplicity and severity, which acted as a valuable check to the prevalent tendency to exaggerate the importance of surface decoration.

12th Century (second half).—The second half of the 12th century is a key period of transition—from Romanesque to Gothic. The school of the Île-de-France, which until around 1120 was one of the less progressive Romanesque schools, made significant strides when the ambulatory of Suger’s church of Saint-Denis was built (1140-1144), and from that point on, it continued to set the pace. It's clear that starting in the middle of the 12th century, English architecture was consistently influenced by the Île-de-France, mostly through Normandy, but it should be seen as a parallel development with distinct characteristics, rather than just a borrowing of already established styles. At the same time, the influence of the Cistercian revival was significant, not so much in bringing in external styles but in promoting simplicity and strictness, which effectively balanced the prevailing tendency to overemphasize surface decoration.

The substitution of the square east-end for the apse in the plans of the greater churches, already effected at Romsey, was furthered by the simple plans of the Cistercian churches. The altar spaces provided by the radiating chapels of the French chevet were in England obtained by returning the aisles across the square east-end of the choir, or by an eastern transept. The latter occurs first here in 403 “the glorious choir of Conrad” of the beginning of the 12th century at Canterbury which affords also the first example of the eastward extension of the choir which became so characteristic a feature of English planning. The reconstruction of Conrad’s choir after the fire of 1174 led to a further extension eastward with the eastern chapel which was adopted in many of the greater churches, either in the form of a lower building, sometimes of three spans eastward of the east gable or of an extension of the choir itself to its full height. The work of William of Sens at Canterbury (1175-1178) was naturally more French in character than other contemporary works in England, but the work of his successor, William the Englishman (1179-1184) shows the beginnings of what became the characteristically English manner of the 13th century.

The replacement of the square east end with the apse in the designs of larger churches, which had already been done at Romsey, was encouraged by the straightforward layouts of the Cistercian churches. The altar areas created by the radiating chapels of the French chevet were achieved in England by extending the aisles across the square east end of the choir or by adding an eastern transept. The latter first appeared here in 403 “the glorious choir of Conrad” at the beginning of the 12th century at Canterbury, which also provided the first example of the eastward extension of the choir that became such a distinctive feature of English design. The reconstruction of Conrad’s choir after the fire of 1174 led to an additional extension eastward with the eastern chapel, which was adopted in many larger churches, either as a lower building, sometimes three spans east of the east gable, or as an extension of the choir itself to its full height. The work of William of Sens at Canterbury (1175-1178) was naturally more influenced by French styles than other contemporary projects in England, but the work of his successor, William the Englishman (1179-1184), shows the beginnings of what would develop into the distinctly English style of the 13th century.

The second half of the 12th century was a period of rapid development of architectural forms in the direction of increased elegance and refinement. The pointed arch employed at first for the arches of construction entirely superseded the semicircular arch in doorways, windows and arcades by the end of the century and its adoption finally solved the problem of vaulted construction. The abutting arches under the triforium roofs of the earlier churches were developed into flying buttresses above the roofs springing from buttresses of increased projection and weighted by pinnacles. Mouldings became more graceful and subtle in their profiles. Capitals reverted to the volute type, transformed and refined. The massive Romanesque pier was gradually developed into the lighter Gothic pier in which detached shafts were extensively adopted. The use of Purbeck marble for these shafts must be considered in relation to the painted decoration of the wall surfaces which although now almost entirely lost was an important factor in the internal effect.

The second half of the 12th century was a time of rapid growth in architectural styles, moving towards more elegance and sophistication. The pointed arch, initially used in construction, completely replaced the semicircular arch in doorways, windows, and arcades by the end of the century, ultimately solving the challenges of vaulted construction. The adjoining arches under the triforium roofs of earlier churches evolved into flying buttresses above the roofs, supported by more prominent buttresses topped with pinnacles. Moldings became more graceful and subtle in their shapes. Capitals returned to the volute style, but were transformed and refined. The heavy Romanesque pier gradually changed into the lighter Gothic pier, which frequently incorporated detached shafts. The use of Purbeck marble for these shafts should be considered alongside the painted decorations of the wall surfaces, which, although now mostly lost, played a crucial role in the overall interior effect.

13th Century (first half).—The last decade of the 12th century marks the achievement of a fully developed Gothic style, with strongly marked national individuality. During the 13th century, English Gothic follows the same general course of evolution as that of northern France, but the parallelism is less close than in the preceding century.

13th Century (first half).—The last decade of the 12th century represents the emergence of a fully formed Gothic style, showcasing distinct national characteristics. Throughout the 13th century, English Gothic evolves similarly to that of northern France, but the connection is not as tight as it was in the previous century.

St Hugh’s choir at Lincoln (begun 1192) had indeed an apse, with ambulatory and radiating chapels though its plan does not appear to have been controlled by the vaulting as in the French chevets and what there is of French influence seems to have come rather through Canterbury than by a more direct route. This choir has the eastern transept which characterizes several of the greater churches of the first half of the 13th century—Salisbury (fig. 43), Beverley, Worcester, Rochester, Southwell. The square eastern termination, the less ambitious height, and the comparatively simple buttress-system combine to give the English Gothic cathedral an air of greater repose than is found in the magnificent triumphs of French Gothic art. In its structural system, too, English Gothic retained something of the Romanesque treatment of wall surface, the suppression of the wall and the concentration of the masonry in the pier was never carried so far as in the complete Gothic of France. The general tendency during the 13th century, as in the 12th, was in the direction of increased lightness and elegance. The employment of detached shafts and the extensive use of marble (generally Purbeck) for these shafts is a distinguishing feature of the first half of the century. The vaulting system is fully developed, the most usual form is the simple quadripartite but the tendency to introduce additional ribs (tiercerons) and ridge ribs already makes its appearance in the nave of Lincoln and the presbytery of Ely (Plate VIII., fig. 82) to be yet further developed in the second half of the century. Capitals are either simply moulded an elaboration of the plain bell capitals of the latter part of the 12th century, or finely sculptured, with conventional or stiff leaved, foliage of the crocket type. The use of the circular abacus begun in the preceding century entirely supersedes the square abacus which was retained in France. Mouldings are profiled with great refinement, the alternation of rounds and hollows producing effective contrasts of light and shade, and the far more complicated profiles of arch mouldings provide another feature which distinguishes English work of this period from French. Windows of single pointed lights the so called “lancet,” though frequently by no means sharply pointed are the prevalent type, grouped in pairs triplets &c. and arranged in tiers in the large gables or sometimes with only a single group of tall lights, like the “five sisters” of the north transept of York. Few works are more admirably designed than some of the towers of this period. Probably the greatest excellence ever attained in English art of the 13th century was reached in the great Yorkshire abbeys, for purity of general design excellence of construction, and beauty of detail, they are unsurpassed by the work of any other period.

St Hugh’s choir at Lincoln (started in 1192) indeed had an apse, with an ambulatory and radiating chapels, although its layout doesn’t seem to have been influenced by the vaulting like in the French chevets. The French influence appears to have come more from Canterbury than directly. This choir features an eastern transept that is typical of several major churches from the first half of the 13th century—Salisbury (fig. 43), Beverley, Worcester, Rochester, and Southwell. The square eastern end, the lower height, and the simpler buttress system all contribute to giving the English Gothic cathedral a sense of calmness that contrasts with the impressive achievements of French Gothic art. In its structural approach, English Gothic also maintained some elements of Romanesque wall treatment; the elimination of the wall and the focus on the masonry in the piers never reached the extent found in full Gothic in France. The general trend during the 13th century, similar to the 12th, leaned towards greater lightness and elegance. The use of detached shafts and extensive use of marble (typically Purbeck) for these shafts is a key feature of the first half of the century. The vaulting system is fully developed, with the most common form being the simple quadripartite, but the introduction of additional ribs (tiercerons) and ridge ribs is already evident in the nave of Lincoln and the presbytery of Ely (Plate VIII., fig. 82), to be further developed in the latter half of the century. Capitals are either simply molded as an elaboration of the plain bell capitals from the late 12th century or finely sculpted, featuring conventional or stiffly-leaved crocket type foliage. The use of the circular abacus, which began in the previous century, completely replaces the square abacus that remained in France. Mouldings are refined, with the alternation of rounded and hollow profiles creating effective contrasts of light and shade, and the much more complex profiles of arch mouldings offer another distinguishing characteristic of English work from this period compared to the French. Windows with single pointed lights, known as “lancets,” although often not sharply pointed, are the prevalent type; they are typically grouped in pairs, triplets, etc., and arranged in tiers in large gables, or sometimes just as a single group of tall lights, like the “five sisters” in the north transept of York. Few creations are as well-designed as some of the towers from this era. Probably the highest excellence achieved in English art of the 13th century was found in the grand Yorkshire abbeys, which are unmatched in purity of design, construction quality, and detail beauty compared to any other period.

13th Century (second half).—The grouping together of “lancet” windows, the piercing of the wall above them with foiled circles, and the combination of the whole under an enclosing arch, soon led to the introduction of tracery, for which the design of earlier triforium arcades had also afforded a suggestion.

13th Century (second half).—The arrangement of “lancet” windows, the cutting of the wall above them with decorated circles, and the unifying arch over the entire design quickly paved the way for the use of tracery, which had also been inspired by the earlier design of triforium arcades.

Fig. 43.—Plan of Salisbury Cathedral.

Bar-tracery appears just before the middle of the 13th century, and the great tracery window filling the whole width of a bay, or the entire gable end, soon becomes a most characteristic feature. The earlier tracery windows show only simple geometrical forms, foiled arches to the heads of the lights and foiled circles above, of which the abbey church and the chapter houses of Westminster and Salisbury afford most beautiful examples. In some particulars, such as its chevet plan and its comparatively great height, Westminster approaches more nearly to the French type than other English churches of the 13th century, but its details are characteristically English and of great beauty. In the last quarter of the century, pointed trefoils or quatrefoils are largely used in tracery, and the foliations frequently form the lines of the tracery, without enclosing circles. Contemporary with this change is the gradual absorption of the triforium into the clerestory, of which Southwell and Pershore are precocious examples. Contemporary also was the adoption of an excessively naturalistic type of foliage. The art of masonry and stone cutting was rapidly developed. The detached shaft, always structurally weak, was abandoned for the pier with engaged shafts separated by mouldings. The mouldings of arches become less deeply undercut, and the greater use of the fillet tends to give a more liney effect. The whole practice of art was growing more scholarly, perhaps but at the same time it was more conscious, and the cleverness of the mason was almost as often suggested as the noble character of his work.

Bar-tracery emerged just before the middle of the 13th century, and soon the grand tracery window that spans the entire width of a bay or the complete gable end became a highly distinctive feature. The earlier tracery windows feature only simple geometric shapes, with pointed arches above the lights and circular designs above those, of which the abbey church and the chapter houses of Westminster and Salisbury provide stunning examples. In certain aspects, like its chevet plan and relatively tall structure, Westminster aligns more closely with the French style than other English churches from the 13th century, but its details are distinctly English and extraordinarily beautiful. In the last part of the century, pointed trefoils and quatrefoils were commonly used in tracery, and the foliage often outlines the tracery lines without enclosing circles. Alongside this change, the triforium gradually merged into the clerestory, with Southwell and Pershore being early examples. Also contemporary was the adoption of an overly naturalistic style of foliage. The art of masonry and stone cutting advanced rapidly. The standalone shaft, which was always structurally weak, was replaced by piers with engaged shafts separated by moldings. The moldings of arches became less deeply cut, and the increased use of fillets created a more linear appearance. Overall, the practice of art was becoming more scholarly, perhaps, but it was also more self-aware, and the skill of the mason was often highlighted just as much as the noble quality of his work.

14th Century (first half).—The juxtaposition of the foliations without enclosing circles in tracery windows produced curves of contraflexure, which led insensibly to the complete substitution of flowing lines for geometrical forms in tracery.

14th Century (first half).—The arrangement of the leaf patterns without surrounding circles in tracery windows created curves of bending, which gradually resulted in the total replacement of flowing lines for geometric shapes in tracery.

Flowing tracery makes its appearance in England about 1310, and lasts some fifty years. Up to the end of the 13th century, window tracery had developed in France and England on parallel lines though the English work was always slightly behind France in point of date. All this is changed with the adoption of flowing tracery in England its development was purely national, and owed nothing to France. Indeed, the French flamboyant only makes its appearance at the time when flowing tracery was being abandoned in England. Not only window traceries, but mouldings, carvings and other details are changed in character. The ogee form is used in arches in wall arcades of great beauty and elaboration, as in the Lady chapel at Ely, and in the canopies of tombs, such as the magnificent Percy tomb at Beverley. Niches and arcades are richly ornamented, and small decorative buttresses are used in the jambs of doorways, windows and niches. The moulded capital is still used, along with the capital with a continuous convex band of wavy foliage. Many of the most beautiful English towers and spires date from this period, the work of which is perhaps seen at its best in the parish churches of south Lincolnshire.

Flowing tracery appeared in England around 1310 and lasted for about fifty years. Up until the end of the 13th century, window tracery had been developing in France and England in parallel, although English designs were always slightly behind those in France in terms of timing. This changed with the introduction of flowing tracery in England, which developed as a purely national style and was not influenced by France. In fact, the French flamboyant style only emerged when flowing tracery was being phased out in England. Not just window traceries, but also moldings, carvings, and other details changed significantly. The ogee shape was utilized in arches within stunning wall arcades, such as in the Lady chapel at Ely, and in the elaborate canopies of tombs, like the impressive Percy tomb at Beverley. Niches and arcades were richly decorated, and small decorative buttresses were introduced into the sides of doorways, windows, and niches. The molded capital continued to be used, alongside a capital featuring a continuous convex band of wavy foliage. Many of the most beautiful English towers and spires were created during this period, with some of the finest examples seen in the parish churches of south Lincolnshire.

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From Middle of 14th Century.—The over-elaboration of flowing tracery inevitably led to a reaction. The beauty of the lines of the tracery had controlled everything, and the resulting forms of the openings, which presented serious difficulties for the glass painter, had been a secondary consideration. Hence an endeavour to return to a simpler and more dignified, if more mechanical, style of building. The splendid exuberance of the earlier 14th century style gave way to the introduction of vigorous, straight, vertical and horizontal lines.

From Middle of 14th Century.—The excessive complexity of flowing tracery eventually caused a backlash. The elegance of the tracery lines dominated all aspects, and the resulting shapes of the openings, which posed significant challenges for glass painters, were not prioritized. This led to an effort to revert to a simpler and more dignified, though more mechanical, style of architecture. The magnificent exuberance of the earlier 14th-century style was replaced by bold, straight, vertical, and horizontal lines.

The beginnings of the new manner are to be seen in the south transept of Gloucester before 1337. After the great interruption of building works caused by the Black Death of 1349 and its recurrence in following years, the so-called “Perpendicular” style became general all over the country. The preference for straight in place of flowing lines became more and more developed. Doorways and arches were enclosed within well-defined square outlines; walls were decorated by panelling in rectangular divisions; vertical lines were emphasized by the addition of pinnacles, and buttresses were used as mere decorations, while horizontal lines were multiplied in string-courses, parapets and window transoms. Capitals were frequently omitted, and the mouldings of arches were continued down the piers. The use of the depressed “four-centred” arch became common. Vaulting, which had already been enriched by the multiplication of ribs, was further complicated by cross-ribs (liernes), subdividing the simple spaces naturally produced by the intersection of necessary ribs into panels; these, again, were filled with tracery. The fan-vault was developed by giving to all the ribs the same curvature; the outline of the fan is bounded by a horizontal circular rib, and its effect is that of a solid of revolution upon whose surface panels are sunk. The cloister of Gloucester presents the earliest and perhaps the most beautiful example. Finally, the builders displayed their mechanical skill by introducing pendants, as in Henry VII.’s chapel at Westminster. This latest period of English Gothic was a purely national development of which it has been too much the fashion to speak disparagingly; for it is futile to call such works as the nave of Winchester or the choir and Lady-chapel of Gloucester “debased.” Perhaps the worst that can be said of this period is that there was too great a love of display, and too much mechanical repetition, but it is none the less true that it is to the 15th century that a very large number of English parish churches owe their fine effect. East Anglia and Somersetshire possess some of the choicest examples, and few things can be more beautiful than the central towers of Gloucester and Canterbury, and the towers of the Somersetshire churches. The open timber roofs, as, for instance, those of the East Anglian churches, are superb, while many of the churches of this period are still full of interesting furniture and decoration. Finally, a word must be said of the wealth of interesting examples of domestic architecture, which yet count among the ornaments of the country.

The beginnings of the new style can be seen in the south transept of Gloucester before 1337. After the significant halt in construction caused by the Black Death of 1349 and its return in the following years, the so-called “Perpendicular” style became widespread throughout the country. The preference for straight lines over flowing ones became increasingly pronounced. Doorways and arches were framed within clear square outlines; walls were decorated with rectangular paneling; vertical lines were emphasized with pinnacles, and buttresses were used mainly for decoration, while horizontal lines were increased with string courses, parapets, and window transoms. Capitals were often left out, and the moldings of arches extended down the piers. The use of the depressed “four-centred” arch became common. Vaulting, which had already been enhanced by the addition of ribs, was further complicated by cross-ribs (liernes), dividing the simple spaces formed by the intersection of necessary ribs into panels, which were then filled with tracery. The fan vault was created by giving all the ribs the same curve; the outline of the fan is defined by a horizontal circular rib, creating the effect of a solid of revolution with sunk panels on its surface. The cloister of Gloucester showcases the earliest and arguably the most beautiful example. Finally, the builders demonstrated their mechanical skill by introducing pendants, as seen in Henry VII’s chapel at Westminster. This later period of English Gothic was a purely national evolution, which has often been criticized unfairly; it is pointless to label works like the nave of Winchester or the choir and Lady Chapel of Gloucester as “debased.” The worst that can be said about this period is that there was a tendency for excessive display and too much mechanical repetition, but it remains true that many fine English parish churches owe their impressive appearance to the 15th century. East Anglia and Somerset have some of the finest examples, and few sights are more beautiful than the central towers of Gloucester and Canterbury and the towers of the Somerset churches. The open timber roofs, such as those found in the East Anglian churches, are stunning, and many churches from this period still have interesting furnishings and decorations. Lastly, it's worth mentioning the wealth of fascinating examples of domestic architecture that remain among the treasures of the country.

After the middle of the 16th century the practice of Gothic architecture virtually died out, though traces of its influence, especially in rural districts, were hardly lost until the end of the 17th century. Good, sound, solid and simple forms, well constructed by men who respected themselves and their work, and did not build only for the passing hour, were still popular and general, so that the vernacular architecture to a late period was often good and never absolutely uninteresting.

After the middle of the 16th century, Gothic architecture mostly faded away, although its influence, especially in rural areas, remained evident until the end of the 17th century. Strong, practical, and straightforward designs created by craftsmen who took pride in their work and constructed not just for momentary trends were still well-liked and common. As a result, vernacular architecture remained notably good and never completely uninteresting for quite some time.

Scotland.—A few words will suffice for Scottish and Irish architecture, since the development in these countries followed much the same course of change as in England.

Scotland.—A few words will be enough for Scottish and Irish architecture, as the development in these countries followed a similar path of change as in England.

The earliest ecclesiastical structures which still survive in Scotland follow the same general type as those of Ireland. The monastic foundations of Queen Margaret and her sons introduced into Scotland the Norman manner then universal in England. The best examples, such as the nave of Dunfermline, which is an obvious inspiration from Durham, Kelso of the later 12th century, and the parish churches of Dalmeny and Leuchars, present the same characteristics as are found in English churches of somewhat earlier dates than the buildings in question, and some Romanesque forms survive to a later period than in England. In the 13th century, too, the style of the Scottish churches corresponds very closely with that of England, though the details are generally simpler, and the structures are smaller. It is naturally allied most closely with the north of England, where Cistercian influence in the direction of simplicity and severity had been exercised with the best results. The transept of Dryburgh, the choir and crypt of Glasgow cathedral, the nave of Dunblane, the choir of Brechin, and later Elgin cathedral, exhibit the style at its purest and best. The disturbed condition of the country during the 14th century was unfavourable to architecture, and when building revived at the beginning of the 15th century its style became more national. During the first half of the 15th century, it shows a certain borrowing from English architecture of the flowing-tracery period. Later, many features are borrowed both from England and France, and architecture develops in picturesque and interesting fashion. Melrose is one of the most characteristic, as it certainly is one of the most charming of Scottish buildings; its earlier parts bear a close resemblance to the earlier 14th-century work at York, while its later parts show more similarity to English “Perpendicular” than is common in Scotland. One of the most characteristic features of Scottish architecture in the 15th century is the pointed barrel vault, which directly supports the stone flagged roof. French influence is seen in the employment of the polygonal apse for the termination of choirs, and in some approaches to Flamboyant tracery. The details of the later Gothic churches have but slight connexion either with France or England, and show a curious revival of earlier motives. The semicircular arch is in frequent use, and the “nail-head” and “dog-tooth” ornament, as well as the use of detached shafts, are revived. One of the most remarkable buildings of the 15th century in Scotland is the collegiate church of Roslin, which has a pointed barrel vault over its choir, with transverse barrel vaults over the aisles, and is distinguished by the extreme richness of its decoration.

The earliest church buildings that still exist in Scotland resemble those in Ireland. The monastic foundations established by Queen Margaret and her sons brought the Norman style that was common in England at the time. Notable examples include the nave of Dunfermline, which clearly draws inspiration from Durham, Kelso from the later 12th century, and the parish churches of Dalmeny and Leuchars. These structures share the same characteristics as English churches built a little earlier, and some Romanesque features persisted longer in Scotland than in England. In the 13th century, Scottish church architecture closely matched that of England, though the details were generally simpler and the buildings smaller. This style is most closely linked to northern England, where the Cistercian influence on simplicity and severity had a significant impact. The transept of Dryburgh, the choir and crypt of Glasgow Cathedral, the nave of Dunblane, the choir of Brechin, and later Elgin Cathedral showcase the style at its purest and finest. The turbulent conditions in the country during the 14th century were not conducive to architectural development, and when building resumed at the beginning of the 15th century, the style became more national. In the first half of the 15th century, it shows some influence from the flowing-tracery period of English architecture. Later on, many features were borrowed from both England and France, leading to a picturesque and interesting architectural evolution. Melrose is one of the most distinctive and charming Scottish buildings; its earlier sections closely resemble 14th-century work in York, while its later parts show more similarity to English “Perpendicular” style than is typically found in Scotland. A key feature of Scottish architecture in the 15th century is the pointed barrel vault, which directly supports the stone flagged roof. French influence is evident in the use of polygonal apses for the ends of choirs and some elements of Flamboyant tracery. The details of the later Gothic churches have little connection to either France or England, displaying a curious revival of earlier styles. The semicircular arch is commonly used, alongside the “nail-head” and “dog-tooth” ornamentation, as well as the use of detached shafts, which have been revived. One of the most impressive buildings of the 15th century in Scotland is the collegiate church of Roslin, featuring a pointed barrel vault over its choir, transverse barrel vaults over the aisles, and distinguished by its rich decoration.

The domestic remains in Scotland are full of picturesque beauty and magnificence. They are a distinctly national class of buildings of great solidity, and much was sacrificed by their builders to the genius of the picturesque. They can only be classed with the latest Gothic buildings of other countries, but the mode of design shown in them lasted much later than the late Gothic style did in England. The vast height to which their walls were carried, the picturesque use made of circular towers, the freedom with which buildings were planned at various angles of contact to each other, and the general simplicity of the ordinary wall, are their most distinct characteristics.

The domestic structures in Scotland are filled with stunning beauty and grandeur. They represent a unique style of buildings that are very sturdy, and their creators sacrificed a lot for the sake of aesthetics. These homes can only be compared to the later Gothic buildings in other countries, but the design style used in them persisted much longer than the late Gothic style did in England. Their notable features include the impressive height of the walls, the creative use of circular towers, the way buildings are arranged at various angles to one another, and the overall simplicity of the typical exterior wall.

Ireland.—The chief interest of the medieval architecture of Ireland belongs to the buildings which were erected before the English conquest of the 12th century. The early monastic settlements seem to have resembled the primitive Celtic fortresses, and consisted of a series of huts or cells, surrounded by an enclosing wall. The so-called “bee-hive” cell, which goes back to pre-Christian times, was built of rough stone rubble without mortar, and roofed in the same manner by corbelling over the courses of masonry. Some of these were certainly dwellings, but others were oratories. The largest of those in Skellig Michael is four-sided, and from this type the stone-roofed church of oblong plan was developed. The later type, with oblong nave and small square-ended chancel, retained much of the character of these primitive structures, and their barrel vaults were sometimes independent of the stone roof-covering, a system which lasted into the 12th and 13th centuries. A certain megalithic character, and the inclined jambs of doorway openings, are marked features of these early churches. The round towers so frequently associated with them are believed to be not earlier than the 9th century. Before the introduction of Norman forms, Ireland possessed a Romanesque style of her own, characterized by the survival of horizontal forms and their incorporation into the round-arched style, the retention of the inclined jambs of doorways, rich surface decoration, and the use of certain ornamental motives of earlier Celtic origin. King Cormac’s chapel at Cashel is one of the best examples of the imported Norman manner of the 12th century, and here we find much of the influence of the earlier native style. The English conquest may be said to have been the introduction to Ireland of Gothic art, and it was the local variety of western England and south Wales which the conquerors introduced. Among the buildings erected by the English in Ireland, Kilkenny cathedral and the two 13th-century cathedrals of Dublin—Christ Church and St Patrick’s—are the most remarkable, but there are many others. Their style is most plainly that of the English conqueror, with no concession to, or consideration of, earlier Irish forms of art. The result of the conquest was that the native style of construction was never applied to large buildings, though it did not at once disappear, as is witnessed by the church St Doulough near Malahide, which appears to be a 14th-century building. The characteristic features of later medieval Irish buildings, such as the stepped battlements, the retention of flowing lines in the tracery, and the peculiar treatment of crockets, are matters of no great importance in the history of architecture, and indeed it is hardly to be expected that a country with so stormy a history could have given rise to any systematic developments. Of the monastic remains those of the friaries are the most numerous, Ireland having many more friars’ churches to show than England, but such peculiarities as they possess belong rather to the order than to any local influences.

Ireland.—The main focus of medieval architecture in Ireland is on the buildings constructed before the English conquest in the 12th century. The early monastic settlements seem to have been similar to primitive Celtic fortresses, consisting of a series of huts or cells surrounded by an enclosing wall. The so-called “bee-hive” cell, which dates back to pre-Christian times, was built from rough stone rubble without mortar and had a roof created by corbelling over the layers of masonry. Some of these structures were definitely homes, while others were places of worship. The largest one on Skellig Michael is four-sided, and it led to the development of the stone-roofed church with an oblong shape. This later type, featuring an elongated nave and a small square-ended chancel, retained much of the character of these early structures, and their barrel vaults were sometimes separate from the stone roof, a system that continued into the 12th and 13th centuries. A certain megalithic quality and the slanted jambs of doorways are distinct features of these early churches. The round towers often associated with them are believed to date no earlier than the 9th century. Before Norman architecture was introduced, Ireland had its own Romanesque style, marked by the persistence of horizontal forms integrated into the round-arched style, the continuation of slanted doorway jambs, rich surface decoration, and certain ornamental elements of earlier Celtic origin. King Cormac’s chapel at Cashel is one of the best examples of the 12th-century Norman style, reflecting much of the influence of the earlier native design. The English conquest is seen as the introduction of Gothic art to Ireland, particularly the local styles from western England and southern Wales brought by the conquerors. Among the buildings constructed by the English in Ireland, Kilkenny Cathedral and the two 13th-century cathedrals in Dublin—Christ Church and St. Patrick’s—are the most notable, but many others exist. Their style clearly reflects that of the English conquerors, with no acknowledgment or adaptation of earlier Irish artistic forms. As a result of the conquest, the native construction style was not applied to larger buildings, although it did not vanish immediately, as evidenced by St. Doulough's church near Malahide, which appears to be a 14th-century structure. The characteristic features of later medieval Irish buildings, such as stepped battlements, flowing lines in the tracery, and unique treatment of crockets, are not particularly significant in architectural history, and it's unlikely that a country with such a tumultuous history could have fostered any systematic developments. Among the monastic remains, the friaries are the most numerous, with Ireland having many more friars’ churches than England, though their unique traits are more related to the order itself than to any local influences.

(J. Bn.)

Romanesque and Gothic Architecture in Germany

Romanesque and Gothic Architecture in Germany

Fig. 44.—Plan of Cathefral at Aix-la-Chapelle.

With the exception of the church built at Trèves (Trier) by the empress Helena, of which small portions can still be traced in the cathedral, there are no remains of earlier date than the tomb-house built by Charlemagne at Aachen (Aix-la-Chapelle), which, though much restored in the 19th century, is still in good preservation. It consists (fig. 44) of an octagonal domed hall surrounded by aisles in two storeys, both vaulted; externally the structure is a polygon of sixteen sides, about 105 ft. in diameter, and it was preceded by a porch flanked by turrets. It is thought to have been copied from S. Vitale at Ravenna, but there are many essential differences. The same design was repeated at Ottmarsheim and Essen, and a simpler version exists at Nijmwegen in the Netherlands, also built by Charlemagne. Although no remains exist of the monastery of St Gall in Switzerland (see Abbey), built in the beginning of the 9th century, a valuable manuscript plan was found in the 17th century, in its library, which would seem to have been a design for a complete 405 monastery. It contains features which are peculiar to the early German churches and are rarely found elsewhere, and is therefore of considerable interest, suggesting that some of the accessories of a monastery, supposed to have been the result of subsequent development, were all clearly set forth at this early period. The plan shows an eastern apse with a crypt, and a choir in front; a western apse, nave and aisles, with a series of altars down the latter; and on the west side, but detached from the apse, two circular towers with staircases in them. Unfortunately there are no churches remaining of the same date from which we might judge how far these arrangements were followed; but there are three early churches in the island of Reichenau on the Lake of Constance, in one of which, Mittelzell, is a western apse with staircases (here built up into a central tower), nave, and aisles with altars at the side between every window. The eastern portion has been rebuilt. At Oberzell, at the south end of the island, is a vaulted crypt, which dates from the end of the 10th century. In the third and much smaller church, Unterzell, there was no crypt, but three eastern apses and a western apse, which was destroyed when the present nave was built. At Gernrode in the Harz is a church with western and eastern apses with vaulted crypts underneath (one of which dates from 960 when the church was founded), and circular towers with staircases in them on either side of the western apse. The church was completed about a century later. In the arcade between the nave and aisles piers alternate with the columns. Alternating piers are found also in Quedlinburg (the crypt of which dates from 936 and the church above about 1030) and many other early churches. Western apses exist at Drubeck, Ilbenstadt, Trèves, Huyseberg, St Michael and St Godehard at Hildesheim, Mainz, the Obermunster at Regensburg, Laach, Worms, and at a later date at Naumbergand Bamberg, showing that it was a feature generally accepted in early and late periods. It has, however, one great defect, that of depriving the west end of the church of those magnificent porches which are the glory of the churches of France, the cathedral of Spires (Speyer), the church at Limburg near Durkheim, the cathedrals of Erfurt and Regensburg, being the few examples where a dignified entrance is given; and further, that on entering the church from the side, one is distracted by the rivalry of the two apses, and it is only when turning the back on one or the other that one is able to judge of the monumental effect of the interior.

With the exception of the church built in Trier by Empress Helena, of which some small parts can still be seen in the cathedral, there are no structures older than the tomb-house built by Charlemagne in Aachen, which, despite being restored in the 19th century, is still well preserved. It consists of an octagonal domed hall surrounded by two levels of aisles, both vaulted; externally, the building has sixteen sides and is about 105 feet in diameter, preceded by a porch with turrets on either side. It's thought to have been inspired by S. Vitale in Ravenna, though there are many significant differences. The same design was replicated in Ottmarsheim and Essen, and a simpler version was built in Nijmegen in the Netherlands, also by Charlemagne. Although there are no remains of the monastery of St. Gall in Switzerland, built in the early 9th century, a valuable manuscript plan was discovered in its library in the 17th century, which appears to be a blueprint for a complete monastery. The plan includes features unique to early German churches that are rarely found elsewhere, making it quite interesting, suggesting that some elements of a monastery, believed to be results of later development, were clearly outlined at this early stage. The plan depicts an eastern apse with a crypt and a choir in front; a western apse, nave, and aisles, with several altars along the aisles; and on the west side, but separate from the apse, are two circular towers with staircases. Unfortunately, there are no remaining churches from this period to help us determine how closely these designs were followed. However, there are three early churches on the island of Reichenau on Lake Constance, one of which, Mittelzell, has a western apse with staircases (now incorporated into a central tower), nave, and aisles with altars beside every window. The eastern part has been rebuilt. At Oberzell, the southern end of the island has a vaulted crypt dating from the late 10th century. The third and much smaller church, Unterzell, had no crypt but had three eastern apses and a western apse, which was destroyed when the current nave was constructed. At Gernrode in the Harz region, there is a church with western and eastern apses with vaulted crypts beneath (one of which dates from 960 when the church was founded), and circular towers with staircases flanking the western apse. The church was completed about a century later. In the arcade between the nave and aisles, piers alternate with columns. Alternating piers can also be found in Quedlinburg (whose crypt dates from 936 and the church above from around 1030) and many other early churches. Western apses are present at Drubeck, Ilbenstadt, Trier, Huyseberg, St. Michael and St. Godehard in Hildesheim, Mainz, the Obermunster in Regensburg, Laach, Worms, and later at Naumburg and Bamberg, indicating that this feature was generally accepted in both early and later periods. However, it has one major flaw: it prevents the west end of the church from having the magnificent porches that are the pride of the churches in France, with the cathedral of Speyer, the church at Limburg near Durkheim, and the cathedrals of Erfurt and Regensburg being among the few examples with a dignified entrance. Additionally, when entering the church from the side, one is distracted by the competing two apses, and it is only by turning one's back on one or the other that one can appreciate the monumental effect of the interior.

Fig. 45.—Plan of Cathedral
at Mainz.
Fig. 46.—Plan of Cathedral
at Worms.
Fig. 47.—Plan of Cathedral in Spires.

The greater number of the churches above mentioned were covered over with open timber roofs or flat ceilings; but the problem to be solved in Germany, as well as in Italy, was that of vaulting over the nave, and the cathedrals of Spires, Worms and Mainz (fig. 45) are the three most important churches in which this was accomplished. The dates of their vaults have never been quite settled; that of Spires would seem to have been the earliest built, probably after 1162, when the church was seriously damaged by a conflagration, and the vault is groined only. In Worms (fig. 46) and Mainz there are diagonal moulded ribs, which suggest a later date. Although of great height and width, the absence of a triforium gallery in these cathedrals is a serious defect, as it deprives the interior of that scale which the smaller arcades in such a gallery give to the nave arcade below and the clerestory above, and of those horizontal lines given by string courses which are entirely wanting in these churches. Seeing that in some of the earlier churches, as at Gernrode, St Ursula (Cologne), and Nieder-Lahnstem, the triforium had already been introduced, and that it was repeated in the later examples at Limburg on the Lahn, Bacharach, Andernach, Bonn, Sinzig, and St Gereon (Cologne), it is difficult to understand why, in the three great typical German Romanesque churches, they should have been omitted. Externally the design is extremely fine, owing to the grouping of the many towers at the west and on either side of the transept or choir. In this respect the cathedral of Mainz is the most superb structure in Germany, and to the cathedral of Spires with its fine entrance porch (fig. 47) must be given the second place.

The majority of the churches mentioned above had open timber roofs or flat ceilings; however, the challenge faced in Germany, as well as in Italy, was how to create a vaulted nave. The cathedrals of Spires, Worms, and Mainz (fig. 45) are the three key churches where this was achieved. The exact dates of their vaults are still debated; Spires appears to have been the earliest, likely built after 1162 when the church suffered significant fire damage, and it features only a groined vault. In Worms (fig. 46) and Mainz, the presence of diagonal molded ribs indicates a later construction date. Even though these cathedrals are quite tall and wide, the lack of a triforium gallery is a notable flaw, as it takes away the sense of scale that smaller arcades in such a gallery provide to the nave arcade below and the clerestory above. Additionally, the horizontal lines created by string courses are entirely missing in these churches. Given that some earlier churches, like Gernrode, St. Ursula (Cologne), and Nieder-Lahnstem, had already incorporated the triforium, and it was seen again in later examples at Limburg on the Lahn, Bacharach, Andernach, Bonn, Sinzig, and St. Gereon (Cologne), it’s puzzling why the triforium was excluded in these three major German Romanesque churches. From the outside, the design is quite impressive, particularly due to the arrangement of the numerous towers at the west side and on either side of the transept or choir. In this regard, the Cathedral of Mainz stands out as the most magnificent structure in Germany, while the Cathedral of Spires, with its beautiful entrance porch (fig. 47), takes a close second.

One of the most perfect examples of the Rhenish-Romanesque styles is the church of the abbey of Laach, completed shortly after the middle of the 12th century. The eastern part of the church resembles the ordinary type, but at the west end there is a narrow transept flanked by circular towers, and a western apse enclosed in an atrium with cloisters round, which forms the entrance to the church. The sculptures in the capitals of the atrium are of the finest description and represent the perfected type of the German Romanesque style. In addition to the two circular towers flanking the west transept, a square tower rises in the centre of the west front, two square towers flank the choir and a crystal lantern crowns the crossing of the main transept, and the grouping of all these features is very fine and picturesque in effect. A small church at Rosheim in Alsace is quite Lombardic in its exterior design, the pilaster strips and arched corbel tables being almost identical. The same applies to the church at Marmoutier, but the towers flanking the main front and the square tower on the crossing of the western transept produce a composition which one looks for in vain in the greater number of the churches in Italy.

One of the best examples of the Rhenish-Romanesque styles is the church of the abbey of Laach, finished shortly after the middle of the 12th century. The eastern part of the church looks like a typical design, but at the west end, there’s a narrow transept with circular towers on either side, and a western apse surrounded by an atrium with cloisters, which serves as the entrance to the church. The sculptures on the capitals of the atrium are exquisite and represent the perfected version of the German Romanesque style. Besides the two circular towers on the west transept, there’s a square tower in the middle of the west front, two square towers flanking the choir, and a crystal lantern topping the crossing of the main transept. The arrangement of all these features is very striking and picturesque. A small church in Rosheim, Alsace has an exterior design that is quite Lombardic, with pilaster strips and arched corbel tables that are nearly identical. The same goes for the church at Marmoutier, but the towers on either side of the main front and the square tower on the crossing of the western transept create a composition that is hard to find in most churches in Italy.

In describing the Lombardic churches of North Italy, reference has been made to the probable origin of the eaves-gallery, best represented in the eastern apse of Santa Maria Maggiore, Bergamo. This feature was largely adopted throughout the Rhine churches, and in the Apostles’ church and St Martin’s at Cologne receives its fullest development, being in addition to the eastern apse carried round the apses of the north and south transepts, which in these two churches and in St-Mary-in-the-Capitol, also in Cologne, constitute a special treatment. In the Apostles’ church, where round towers are built at the junction of the three apses, the effect is extremely pleasing. In the church at Bonn, the single apse is flanked by two lofty towers which give great importance to the east front.

In discussing the Lombardic churches in Northern Italy, we’ve mentioned the likely origin of the eaves-gallery, best shown in the eastern apse of Santa Maria Maggiore in Bergamo. This feature was widely adopted across the Rhine churches, and in the Apostles’ church and St. Martin’s in Cologne, it reaches its fullest expression, as it extends around the apses of the north and south transepts. In these two churches and St. Mary-in-the-Capitol, also in Cologne, this creates a unique architectural style. In the Apostles’ church, where round towers are built at the junction of the three apses, the overall effect is very pleasing. In the Bonn church, the single apse is flanked by two tall towers, adding significant emphasis to the east front.

The steeples of the same period have a character of their own. They are either square or octangular in plan, arcaded or pierced with windows, and roofed with gables or with spires rising out of the gables.

The steeples from that time have their own unique style. They are either square or octagonal in shape, featuring arcades or windows, and are topped with gables or spires that rise from the gables.

One peculiarity found in some of the German churches, and specially those in the north-east, is that the nave and aisles are of the same height. To these the term Hallenkirchen is given. This type of design is very grand internally, owing to the vast height of the piers and arches. It also dispenses with the necessity for flying buttresses, as the aisles, which are only half the width of the nave, carry the thrust of the vault direct to the external buttresses. The nave, however, is not so well lighted, though the aisle windows are sometimes of stupendous height. The principal examples are those of the church of St Stephen, Vienna, where both nave and aisles are carried over with one vast root; at Munster, the Wiesenkirche at Soest; St Lawrence, Nuremberg; St Martin’s, Landshut; Munich cathedral, and others.

One unique feature found in some German churches, especially in the northeast, is that the nave and aisles are the same height. These are called Hallenkirchen. This design is very impressive inside due to the great height of the piers and arches. It also eliminates the need for flying buttresses since the aisles, which are only half the width of the nave, carry the thrust of the vault directly to the external buttresses. However, the nave doesn’t receive as much light, although the aisle windows can be incredibly tall. Notable examples include the church of St. Stephen in Vienna, where both the nave and aisles are covered by one huge roof; Munster, the Wiesenkirche in Soest; St. Lawrence in Nuremberg; St. Martin’s in Landshut; Munich Cathedral, and others.

St Gereon (1200-1227) and St Cunibert (1205-1248), in Cologne, besides churches at Naumburg, Limburg and Gelnhausen, in which the pointed arch is employed, are almost the only transitional examples in Germany, and respond to work of a century earlier in France. Toward the end of the 13th century the Romanesque style was supplanted by a style which in no way grew out of it, but was 406 rather an imitation of a foreign style, the earliest examples being in the Liebfrauenkirche at Trèves (1227-1243), and the churches at Marburg (1235-1283) and Altenberg (1255-1301). In the latter church is a French chevet with seven apsidal chapels. This brings us to the great typical cathedral of Germany at Cologne (fig. 48), which had the advantages of having been designed at the best age and completed on the original design, so that with small exceptions a uniformity of style reigns throughout it. It was begun in 1270 and apparently based on the plan of Amiens, the transepts however having an additional bay each, and the two first bays of the nave having thicker piers so as to carry the enormous towers and spires which flank the chief façade. The principal defect of the building is its relative shortness, owing to its disproportionate height. This has always been felt in the interior, and now that the lofty buildings all round have been taken down, isolating the cathedral on all sides, it has the appearance of an overgrown monster. The length of the cathedral is 468 ft., 17 ft. less than the cathedral at Ulm, the longest in Germany. The height of the nave vault is 155 ft., and as the width is only 41.6 (about one in four) the proportion is very unpleasing. There is also a certain mechanical finish throughout the design, which renders it far less poetical than the great French cathedrals. Where, however, it excels is in the extraordinary vigour of its execution, the depth of the mouldings, and the projection given to the leading architectural features; and in this respect, when compared with St Ouen at Rouen, about fifty years later, the latter (which is even more mechanical in its setting out) looks wire-drawn and poor. The twin spires of the façade rise to the height of 510 ft.; they were completed only in the latter part of the 19th century, and would have gained in breadth of effect if there had been some plain surfaces left. In this respect the spire of Freiburg cathedral, which is simple in outline and detail, is finer, and gains in contrast on account of the simpler masonry of the lower part of the tower. The spire at Ulm cathedral, only recently terminated, rises to the height of 530 ft. In both these cases the single tower is preferable to the double towers of Cologne, when elaborated to the same extent, as they are in all these examples; and perhaps that is one of the reasons why the spires of Strassburg and Antwerp cathedrals are more satisfactory, as the twin towers were never built. The front of Strassburg cathedral (1277-1318), by Erwin von Steinbach, is too much cut up by vertical lines of masonry, owing to the tours-de-force in tracery of which the German mason was so fond. On the whole the most beautiful of German spires is that of St Stephen’s at Vienna, and one of its advantages would seem to be that its transition from the square base to the octagon is so well marked in the design that it is difficult to say where the tower ends and the spire begins. The strong horizontal courses under the spires of Strassburg or Freiburg are defects from this point of view.

St. Gereon (1200-1227) and St. Cunibert (1205-1248) in Cologne, along with churches in Naumburg, Limburg, and Gelnhausen, which feature pointed arches, are nearly the only transitional examples in Germany and reflect work from a century earlier in France. By the end of the 13th century, the Romanesque style was replaced by a style that didn’t evolve from it but rather imitated a foreign style, with the earliest examples found in the Liebfrauenkirche in Treves (1227-1243) and the churches in Marburg (1235-1283) and Altenberg (1255-1301). Altenberg church features a French chevet with seven apsidal chapels. This leads us to the iconic Cologne Cathedral (fig. 48), which benefits from being designed in its prime and completed according to the original plan, resulting in a mostly uniform style throughout. Construction began in 1270 and was seemingly based on the design of Amiens, though the transepts each have an extra bay, and the first two bays of the nave are supported by thicker piers to hold the massive towers and spires flanking the main façade. The main flaw of the building is its relatively short length, as its height is disproportionately large. This has always been noticeable inside, and with surrounding tall buildings now removed, the cathedral appears like an oversized monster. The length of the cathedral is 468 ft., which is 17 ft. shorter than the Ulm Cathedral, the longest in Germany. The height of the nave vault is 155 ft., and with a width of only 41.6 ft. (about one in four), the proportions are quite unappealing. There is also a somewhat mechanical quality throughout the design, making it feel less poetic compared to the grand French cathedrals. However, it excels in the remarkable vigor of its execution, the depth of the moldings, and the prominence of its main architectural features; in this sense, when compared to St. Ouen in Rouen, built about fifty years later and even more mechanical in its layout, the latter feels thin and lacking. The twin spires of the façade reach up to 510 ft.; they were only completed in the latter part of the 19th century and might have had a broader impact if some plain surfaces had been included. In this regard, the spire of Freiburg Cathedral, which is simpler in outline and detail, is more impressive and contrasts nicely with the simpler masonry of the lower part of the tower. The spire of Ulm Cathedral, recently completed, rises to 530 ft. In both cases, a single tower is preferable to Cologne's double towers when elaborated to the same extent, as seen in all these examples; perhaps that’s part of why the spires of Strasbourg and Antwerp cathedrals are more satisfying since the twin towers were never built. The façade of Strasbourg Cathedral (1277-1318), designed by Erwin von Steinbach, is overly disrupted by vertical lines of masonry due to the tours-de-force in tracery, which German masons were particularly fond of. Overall, the most beautiful of the German spires is that of St. Stephen’s in Vienna, which seems to succeed because the transition from its square base to the octagon is so clearly defined that it’s hard to tell where the tower ends and the spire begins. The strong horizontal courses under the spires of Strasbourg or Freiburg are shortcomings from this perspective.

Fig. 48.—Plan of Cathedral at Cologne.

In domestic architecture nothing remains of the palace at Aix-la-Chapelle, but at Lorsch near Mannheim is the entrance gateway of the convent which was dedicated by Charlemagne in 774. It is in two storeys, in the lower one three semicircular arches flanked by columns with extremely classic capitals. The upper storey is decorated with what might have been described as a blind arcade, except that instead of arches are triangular spaces similar to some windows found in Saxon architecture; the whole gateway being crowned with a classic cornice. The palaces at Goslar (1050) and Dankwarderode in Brunswick (1150-1170) still preserve their great halls, and in the palace built (1130-1150) by the emperor Frederick I. at Gelnhausen there remain portions extremely fine and vigorous in style, and showing a strong Byzantine influence. The largest and most important castle is that of the Wartburg at Eisenach, which is in complete preservation.

In domestic architecture, nothing remains of the palace at Aix-la-Chapelle, but in Lorsch, near Mannheim, you can find the entrance gateway of the convent dedicated by Charlemagne in 774. It has two levels; the lower level features three semicircular arches flanked by columns that have very classic capitals. The upper level is decorated with what could be called a blind arcade, except that instead of arches, there are triangular spaces resembling windows found in Saxon architecture; the entire gateway is topped with a classic cornice. The palaces at Goslar (1050) and Dankwarderode in Brunswick (1150-1170) still maintain their grand halls, and portions of the palace built (1130-1150) by Emperor Frederick I at Gelnhausen are exceptionally fine and vigorous in style, showing a strong Byzantine influence. The largest and most significant castle is the Wartburg at Eisenach, which remains completely preserved.

To sum up, the German Complete Gothic is essentially national in its complete character. It has many and obvious defects. From the first there is conspicuous in it that love of lines, and that desire to play with geometrical figures, which in time degenerated into work more full of conceit and triviality than that of any school of medieval artists. These conceits are worked out most elaborately in the traceries of windows and panelling. The finest early examples are in the cathedral at Minden; a little later, perhaps, the best series is in the cloister of Constance cathedral; and of the latest description the examples are innumerable. But it is worth observing that they rarely at any time have any ogee lines. They are severely geometrical and regular in their form, and quite unlike our own late Middle Pointed, or the French Flamboyant. In sculpture the Germans did not shine. They, like the English, did not introduce it with profusion, though they were very prone to the representations of effigies of the deceased as monuments.

To sum up, the German Complete Gothic is basically national in its overall character. It has many clear defects. From the start, you can see a love of lines and a desire to play with geometric shapes, which eventually led to work that became more focused on self-importance and triviality than anything produced by other medieval artists. These intricacies are most elaborately expressed in the tracery of windows and paneling. The best early examples can be found in the cathedral at Minden; a little later, the finest series may be found in the cloister of Constance cathedral; and there are countless examples of the latest style. However, it's worth noting that they rarely feature any ogee lines. They are strictly geometric and regular in their form, quite different from our own late Middle Pointed style or the French Flamboyant. In sculpture, the Germans did not excel. Like the English, they didn't introduce it extensively, though they were quite inclined to create representations of the deceased as memorials.

In one or two respects, however, Germany is still possessed of a wealth of medieval examples, such as is hardly to be paralleled in Europe. The vast collection of brick buildings, for instance, is unequalled. If a line be drawn due east and west, and passing through Berlin, the whole of the plain lying to the north, and extending from Russia to Holland, is destitute of stone, and the medieval architects, who always availed themselves of the material which was most natural in the district, built all over this vast extent of country almost entirely in brick. The examples of their works in this humble material are not at all confined to ecclesiastical works; houses, castles, town-halls, town walls and gateways, are so plentiful and so invariably picturesque and striking in their character, that it is impossible to pass a harsh verdict on the architects who left behind them such extraordinary examples of their skill and fertility of resource.

In a few ways, Germany still has a wealth of medieval examples that are hard to find anywhere else in Europe. For instance, its extensive collection of brick buildings is unmatched. If you draw a line due east and west through Berlin, the entire area to the north—from Russia to Holland—lacks stone. Medieval architects, who always used the materials that were most readily available in their region, built almost entirely in brick across this vast territory. The examples of their work in this simple material aren't limited to churches; there are many houses, castles, town halls, city walls, and gates that are so abundant and consistently picturesque and striking that it's impossible to judge the architects harshly for leaving behind such remarkable examples of their creativity and resourcefulness.

This development is largely due to the fact that all these countries in north-east Germany were connected and very much influenced by the confederation of the Hanse towns, and hence the similarity in the design of all their buildings. Although some of the earliest buildings date from the 12th century, the chief development took place in the 14th and 15th centuries, and in the 16th century formed the basis of the transitional works of the Renaissance. The principal Hanse towns are Hamburg, Lübeck and Danzig. The chief buildings in Hamburg were destroyed by the fire in 1842, and it is in Lübeck that the most important churches are to be found. The church of St Mary (Marienkirche), 1304, is the most striking on account of its dimensions, 346 ft. in length, the nave being 123 ft. high, with two western towers 407 ft. high. Great scale is given to the building in consequence of the small material (brick) used, and some of the windows in this or other churches are nearly 100 ft. in height, with lofty mullions, all in moulded brick. The Dom or cathedral of Lübeck, though slightly larger, is not so good in design, but has a remarkable north porch in richly moulded brick, with marble shafts and carved capitals. In the church of St Catherine the choir is raised above a lofty vaulted crypt, similar to examples in some of the Italian churches. The Marienkirche at Danzig (1345-1503), built by a grand master of the Teutonic knights, to whom the chief development of the architecture of north-east Germany is largely due, is one of those examples already mentioned as Hallenkircken. The nave, aisles, side chapels, transept and aisles, and choir with square east end, are all of the same height; as the church is 280 ft. long and 125 ft. wide, with a transept 200 ft. long, the effect is that of one stupendous hall, but as the light is only obtained through the windows of the side chapels, the interior, though impressive, is somewhat gloomy. The same is found in the choir of the Franciscan church at Salzburg, where five slender piers, 70 ft. in height and 407 4 ft. in diameter, carry the vault over an area 160 ft. long by 66 ft. wide. Right up in the north of Germany, in Pomerania, are many fine examples in brick and sometimes of great size, such as those at Stralsund, Stettin, Stargard, Pasewalk, and in the island of Rugen. The Marienkirche at Stralsund, owing to its massive construction and picturesque grouping, is an interesting example. Its western transept or narthex with tower in centre is a common type of the churches in Pomerania, and though very inferior in design is a version of those which in England are seen in Ely and Peterborough cathedrals.

This development is mainly because all these countries in northeast Germany were connected and heavily influenced by the confederation of Hanse towns, which is why their buildings have similar designs. While some of the earliest structures date back to the 12th century, the main development happened in the 14th and 15th centuries, and by the 16th century, it laid the groundwork for Renaissance transitional works. The main Hanse towns are Hamburg, Lübeck, and Danzig. The major buildings in Hamburg were destroyed by a fire in 1842, and Lübeck is where you’ll find the most significant churches. The Church of St. Mary (Marienkirche), built in 1304, is the most impressive due to its size, measuring 346 ft. long and with a nave that stands 123 ft. high, along with two western towers reaching 407 ft. Great scale is achieved in the building because of the small material (brick) used, and some of the windows in this or other churches are nearly 100 ft. tall, featuring lofty mullions made from molded brick. The Dom or cathedral of Lübeck, though slightly larger, is not as well-designed but has a remarkable north porch made of richly molded brick, with marble shafts and carved capitals. In the Church of St. Catherine, the choir is elevated above a tall vaulted crypt, resembling examples in some Italian churches. The Marienkirche in Danzig (1345-1503), constructed by a grand master of the Teutonic Knights, who significantly influenced the architecture of northeast Germany, is one of the examples referred to as Hallenkirchen. The nave, aisles, side chapels, transept, and choir with a square east end are all the same height; with the church measuring 280 ft. long and 125 ft. wide, and a transept that is 200 ft. long, the overall effect is of one massive hall. However, since light only enters through the windows of the side chapels, the interior, while impressive, is somewhat dim. This is similar to the choir of the Franciscan church in Salzburg, where five slender piers, 70 ft. tall and 4 ft. in diameter, support a vault over an area measuring 160 ft. long by 66 ft. wide. Far up north in Germany, in Pomerania, you’ll find many excellent examples made of brick, often quite large, such as those at Stralsund, Stettin, Stargard, Pasewalk, and on the island of Rügen. The Marienkirche at Stralsund, due to its sturdy design and picturesque layout, is a fascinating example. Its western transept or narthex with a central tower is a common feature among churches in Pomerania, and although it is much less refined in design, it resembles those seen in Ely and Peterborough cathedrals in England.

In the entrance gateways to the towns and in domestic architecture north Germany is very rich; the palace of the grand master of the Teutonic Order at Marienburg is a vast and imposing structure in brick (1276-1335), in which the chapter house of the grand master, with its fan-vaulted roof, resting on a single pillar of granite in the centre, and the entrance porch of the church richly carved in brick, are among the finest examples executed in that material.

In the entrance gates to the towns and in residential buildings, northern Germany has a lot to offer. The palace of the Grand Master of the Teutonic Order in Marienburg is a large and impressive brick structure (1276-1335). The grand master's chapter house, featuring a fan-vaulted ceiling supported by a single granite pillar in the center, along with the beautifully carved brick entrance porch of the church, are some of the best examples crafted from that material.

(R. P. S.)

Romanesque and Gothic in Belgium and Holland

Romanesque and Gothic in Belgium and the Netherlands

Fig. 49.—Plan of Cathedral at Tournai.

Of early Romanesque work neither Belgium nor Holland retains any examples; for with the exception of the small building at Nijmwegen built by Charlemagne, there are no churches prior to the 11th century, and at first the influence in Belgium would seem to have come from Lombardy, through the Rhine Provinces. As all her large churches are built in the centres of her most important towns, it is probable that the older examples were pulled down to make way for others more in accordance with the increasing wealth and population. In the 13th century they came under the influence of the great Gothic movement in France, and two or three of their cathedrals compare favourably with the French cathedrals. The finest example of earlier date is that of the cathedral of Tournai (fig. 49), the nave of which was built in the second half of the 11th century, to which a transept with north and south apses and aisles round them was added about the middle of the 12th century. These latter features are contemporaneous with similar examples at Cologne, and the idea of the plan may have been taken from them; externally, however, they differ so widely that the design may be looked upon as an original conception, though the nave arcades, triforium storey, and clerestory resemble the contemporaneous work in Normandy. The original choir was pulled down in the 14th century, and a magnificent chevet of the French type erected in its place. The grouping of the towers which flank the transept, with the central lantern, the apses, and lofty choir, is extremely fine (fig. 50). The sculptures on the west front, dating from the 12th to the 16th century, protected by a portico of the late 15th century, are of remarkable interest and in good preservation. They are in three tiers, the two lowest consisting of bas-reliefs, the upper tier with life-size figures in niches, resting on corbels. The Romanesque tower of the church of St Jacques in the same town, with angle turrets, is a picturesque and well-designed structure.

Of early Romanesque work, neither Belgium nor Holland has any examples; except for the small building at Nijmegen built by Charlemagne, there are no churches from before the 11th century. Initially, it seems that the influence in Belgium came from Lombardy through the Rhine Provinces. Since all of her large churches are built in the centers of her most important towns, it’s likely that the older examples were torn down to make way for new ones that matched the growing wealth and population. In the 13th century, they were influenced by the great Gothic movement in France, and a couple of their cathedrals hold up well in comparison to the French cathedrals. The best example from an earlier period is the cathedral of Tournai (fig. 49), which had its nave constructed in the second half of the 11th century, with a transept and north and south apses and aisles added around the middle of the 12th century. These features are contemporary with similar examples in Cologne, and the plan might have been inspired by them; however, they differ so much in appearance that the design can be seen as an original concept, although the nave arcades, triforium level, and clerestory are similar to contemporary work in Normandy. The original choir was demolished in the 14th century and replaced with a magnificent chevet of the French style. The arrangement of the towers flanking the transept, along with the central lantern, the apses, and the tall choir, is exceptionally beautiful (fig. 50). The sculptures on the west front, dating from the 12th to the 16th century and protected by a portico from the late 15th century, are of great interest and are well-preserved. They are arranged in three tiers, with the two lower tiers consisting of bas-reliefs, and the upper tier featuring life-size figures in niches supported by corbels. The Romanesque tower of the church of St Jacques in the same town, with its corner turrets, is a picturesque and well-designed structure.

Other early examples are those of St Bartholomew at Liége (A.D. 1015) and the churches at Roermonde and St Servais at Maastricht, both belonging to Holland. The latter is an extremely fine example, which recalls the work at Cologne, and in its great western narthex follows on the lines of the German churches at Gernrode, Corvey and Brunswick.

Other early examples are those of St. Bartholomew in Liège (A.D. 1015) and the churches at Roermond and St. Servais in Maastricht, both located in Holland. The latter is an excellent example that is reminiscent of the work in Cologne, and its large western narthex follows the design of the German churches at Gernrode, Corvey, and Brunswick.

Among other churches of later date are St Gudule at Brussels, with Gothic 13th century choir and a 14th century nave with great circular pillars, the west front of later date, approached by a lofty flight of steps, having a very fine effect; Ste Croix at Liége, with a western apse; St Martin at Ypres and St Bavon at Ghent, both with 13th-century choir and 14th-century nave; Tongres, 13th century with great circular pillars and an early Romanesque cloister; Notre Dame de Pamele at Oudenarde; and Notre Dame at Bruges, 14th century. Of 15th and 16th century work (for the Gothic style lasted without any trace of the Renaissance till the middle of the 16th century) are St Gommaire at Lierre (1425-1557); St Martin, Alost (1498), St Jacques, Antwerp; and St Martin and St Jacques, both at Liége. The largest in area, and in that sense the most important church in Belgium, is Notre Dame at Antwerp (misnamed the cathedral). It was begun in 1352, but not completed till the 16th century, so that it possesses many transitional features. It is one of the few churches with three aisles on each side of the nave, the outer aisle being nearly as wide as the nave, which is too narrow to have a fine effect. Only one of the two spires of the west front is built, perhaps to its advantage; the upper portion presents in its pierced stone spires one of those remarkable tours-de-force of which masons are so proud, and having a simple substructure it gains by contrast with and is much superior to the spires of Cologne, Vienna and Ulm.

Among other later churches are St Gudule in Brussels, featuring a Gothic choir from the 13th century and a nave from the 14th century with impressive circular pillars. The west front, built later, is accessed by a tall flight of steps, creating a striking effect; Ste Croix in Liège, which has a western apse; St Martin in Ypres and St Bavon in Ghent, both with a 13th-century choir and a 14th-century nave; Tongres, built in the 13th century, has great circular pillars and an early Romanesque cloister; Notre Dame de Pamele in Oudenarde; and Notre Dame in Bruges, which is from the 14th century. From the 15th and 16th centuries (as the Gothic style continued without Renaissance influence until the mid-16th century) are St Gommaire in Lierre (1425-1557); St Martin in Alost (1498), St Jacques in Antwerp; and both St Martin and St Jacques in Liège. The largest church in Belgium, and in that sense the most significant, is Notre Dame in Antwerp (often incorrectly called a cathedral). Construction began in 1352, but it wasn’t completed until the 16th century, resulting in many transitional features. It’s one of the few churches with three aisles on each side of the nave, with the outer aisle being nearly as wide as the nave, which is too narrow to create a grand effect. Only one of the two spires on the west front has been completed, perhaps to its advantage; the upper section boasts pierced stone spires that showcase one of those remarkable tours-de-force that masons take pride in, and its simple base contrasts effectively, making it superior to the spires of Cologne, Vienna, and Ulm.

Fig. 50.—Tournai Cathedral.

Among the most remarkable features in these Belgian churches are the rood screens, the earliest of which is in the church of St Peter at Louvain, dating from 1400, in rich Flamboyant Gothic, retaining all its statues. In the church at Dixmuiden, St Gommaire at Lierre (1534), and in Notre Dame, Walcourt (1531), are other examples all in perfect preservation; the last is said to have been given by the emperor Charles V., and in the same church is a lofty tabernacle in Flamboyant Gothic.

Among the most striking features of these Belgian churches are the rood screens, the oldest of which is in the Church of St. Peter in Louvain, dating back to 1400, showcasing rich Flamboyant Gothic style and retaining all its statues. The churches in Dixmuiden, St. Gommaire in Lierre (1534), and Notre Dame in Walcourt (1531) also have examples that are perfectly preserved; the last one is said to have been donated by Emperor Charles V., and within the same church is a tall tabernacle in Flamboyant Gothic.

Owing to the comparatively late date of many of the Belgian churches, they are all more or less unfinished, as the religious fervour of the citizens who built them would seem to have changed in favour of their town halls and civic buildings immediately connected with trade. The Cloth Hall at Ypres (1200-1334) with a frontage of 460 ft., three storeys high with a lofty central tower and a hall on the upper storey 435 ft. long, one of the finest buildings of the period in Europe; Les Halles at Bruges, originally built as a cloth hall, also with a lofty central tower; and a simple example at Malines, are the earliest buildings of this type.

Because many of the Belgian churches were built relatively late, they all appear to be somewhat unfinished. It seems that the religious enthusiasm of the citizens who constructed them shifted toward their town halls and civic structures, which were directly linked to trade. The Cloth Hall in Ypres (1200-1334), featuring a 460 ft. facade, three stories, a tall central tower, and an upper hall that's 435 ft. long, stands out as one of the finest buildings of its time in Europe. Other notable examples include Les Halles in Bruges, which was originally built as a cloth hall and also has a tall central tower, and a simpler version in Malines, representing the earliest structures of this type.

There follow a series of magnificent town halls, of which that at Brussels is the largest, but the tower not being quite in the centre of its façade gives it a lopsided appearance. There is no tower to the town hall at Louvain (1448-1469), but this is compensated for by the angle turrets, and the design is far bolder. In both these examples the vertical lines are too strongly accentuated, and seeing that they are in two or three storeys, the latter should have been maintained in the design of the façades. In this respect the town hall of Oudenarde (1527-1535) is more truthful, and as a result is far superior to them; the tower also is in the centre of the principal front, which at all events is better than at Brussels, though as a matter of composition it would have been more effective and picturesque if it 408 had been placed at one end of the façade. In the town hall at Mons there is no tower, but a fine upper storey with ten windows filled with good tracery. Of the town hall at Ghent only one half is Gothic (1480-1482), as it was not completed till a century later, and though overladen with Flamboyant ornament it has fine qualities in its design. Although but few examples still exist of the Gothic structures belonging to the various gilds, owing to their having been rebuilt in the Renaissance style, those of the Bateliers at Ghent (1531), and of the Fishmongers at Malines (1519), bear witness in the rich decoration to the wealth of these corporations.

There are several impressive town halls, the largest of which is in Brussels, but the tower is slightly off-center, making it look uneven. The town hall in Louvain (1448-1469) doesn’t have a tower, but this is balanced out by the corner turrets, and the design is much bolder. In both cases, the vertical lines are too emphasized, and since they have two or three stories, that aspect could have been better incorporated into the façade designs. In this regard, the town hall in Oudenarde (1527-1535) is more accurate and, as a result, much better than the others; the tower is also centered on the main front, which is an improvement over Brussels, though for composition, it might have been more striking and visually appealing if it had been positioned at one end of the façade. The town hall in Mons doesn’t have a tower, but it features a beautiful upper level with ten windows showcasing nice tracery. The town hall in Ghent has only half of its structure in Gothic style (1480-1482), as it wasn’t fully completed until a century later, and even though it’s heavily adorned with Flamboyant details, it still has commendable design qualities. Although only a few Gothic structures associated with various guilds remain because they were rebuilt in the Renaissance style, those of the Bateliers in Ghent (1531) and the Fishmongers in Malines (1519) demonstrate with their rich decoration the wealth of these corporations.

Holland is extremely poor in church architecture, but there are two examples which should be noted, at Utrecht and Bois-le-Duc (’s Hertogenbosch). Of the former only the choir exists. It is of great height (115 ft.), and belongs to the finest period of Gothic architecture (1251-1267). The nave was destroyed by a hurricane in 1674, and so seriously damaged that it was all taken down (a wall being built to enclose the choir) and an open square left between it and the lofty west tower. The cathedral of St John at Bois-le-Duc, though founded in 1300, was rebuilt in the Flamboyant period (1419-1497). It is of great length (400 ft.) with a fine chevet, and possessed originally a magnificent rood screen in the early Renaissance style (1625); this seemed to the burghers to be out of keeping with the Gothic church, so it was taken down and sold to the South Kensington Museum, being replaced by a very poor example in Modern Gothic.

Holland doesn't have much in terms of church architecture, but there are two notable examples in Utrecht and Bois-le-Duc (’s Hertogenbosch). In Utrecht, only the choir remains. It's quite tall (115 ft.) and represents one of the finest periods of Gothic architecture (1251-1267). The nave was destroyed by a hurricane in 1674, sustaining such severe damage that it was completely removed, with a wall built to enclose the choir, leaving an open square between it and the tall west tower. The St. John Cathedral in Bois-le-Duc, which was established in 1300, was rebuilt during the Flamboyant period (1419-1497). It's very long (400 ft.) and features a beautiful chevet, and originally had a stunning rood screen in the early Renaissance style (1625). However, the burghers felt it clashed with the Gothic church, so it was dismantled and sold to the South Kensington Museum, replaced by a rather poor example in Modern Gothic.

There is only one Gothic town hall of importance in Holland, that at Middleburg (1468), a fine example, and quite equal to those in Belgium. The ground and upper floors are kept distinct, and as the wall surface of these lower storeys is in plain masonry, the traceried windows and the canopied niches (all of which retain their statues) gain by the contrast. There is a small picturesque specimen at Gouda, and at Leeuwarden in the house of correction (Kanselary) a rich example in brick and stone, with a remarkable stepped gable in the centre having statues on its steps.

There is only one significant Gothic town hall in Holland, located in Middleburg (1468), which is a great example and comparable to those in Belgium. The ground and upper floors are clearly separate, and since the lower levels have plain masonry walls, the decorative windows and canopied niches (all of which still have their statues) stand out more. There's a charming smaller example in Gouda, and in Leeuwarden, at the correction house (Kanselary), there's a striking example made of brick and stone, featuring a unique stepped gable in the center with statues on its steps.

Both in Belgium and Holland there are numerous examples of domestic architecture in brick with quoins and tracery in stone, in both cases alternating with brick courses and arch voussoirs and with infinite variety of design.

Both Belgium and Holland have many examples of brick domestic architecture featuring stone quoins and tracery, often alternating with brick courses and arch voussoirs, showcasing an endless variety of designs.

(R. P. S.)

The Renaissance Style: Introduction

The Renaissance Style: Overview

The causes which led to the evolution of the Renaissance style in Italy in the 15th century were many and diverse. The principal impulse was that derived from the revival of classical literature. Already in the 14th century the coming movement was showing itself in the works of the painters and sculptors, especially the latter, owing to the influence of the classic sculpture which abounded throughout Italy. Thus in the tomb of St Dominic (1221) at Bologna, the pulpits of Pisa (1260) and Siena (1268), and in the fountain of Perugia (1277-1280) by Niccola Pisano and his son Giovanni, all the figures would seem to have been inspired in their character by those found in Roman sarcophagi. A classic treatment is noticeable in the doorway of the Baptistery of Florence by Andrea Pisano (1330), probably influenced by Giotto, in whose paintings are found the representation of imaginary buildings in which Gothic and Classic details are mixed up together. The time for its full development, however, did not come till the following century, when, with the papal throne again firmly established under Martin V., the amelioration of the city of Rome was commenced, and discoveries were made which awakened an archaeological interest fostered by the Medici at Florence, who not only became enthusiastic collectors of ancient works of art, but promoted the study of the antique figure. In addition to the acquisition of marbles and bronzes, ancient manuscripts of classic writers were sought for and supplied by Greek exiles who seemed to have foreseen the breaking up of the eastern empire; everything, therefore, at the beginning of the 15th century fostered the spread of the new movement. Accordingly, when a great architect like Brunelleschi, who for fifteen years had been making a special study of the ancient monuments in Rome and who possessed in addition great scientific knowledge, brought forward his proposals for the completion of the cathedral built by Arnolfo di Lapo, and showed how the existing substructure could be covered over with a dome like the Pantheon at Rome, his designs were accepted by the town council of Florence, and in 1420 he was entrusted with the work. Subsequently he carried out other works, in which pure classic architectural forms are the chief characteristics. There were, however, other causes which not only promoted the encouragement of the revival, but extended it to other countries, though at a later period; the most important of these was the invention of printing (1453), which in a sense revolutionized art, not so much in its enabling classical literature to be more extensively studied and known, as in its taking away to a certain extent from the painter and sculptor and indirectly the architect one of their principal missions, so far as ecclesiastical architecture is concerned. Henceforth these who had hitherto taught their lessons in sculpture, painting, stained glass and fresco, could, through the printed book, bring them more immediately before and directly to mankind. Victor Hugo’s pithy saying, “ceci tuera cela; le livre tuera l’église,” expressed not only the fall of architecture from the position it occupied as the principal teacher, but to a certain extent the change in the channel by which religious teachers and the writers of the day, the poets and philosophers, could best make their works known.

The reasons for the rise of the Renaissance style in Italy during the 15th century were many and varied. The main driving force came from the revival of classical literature. By the 14th century, this emerging movement was evident in the works of painters and sculptors, especially in the latter due to the influence of classic sculptures found throughout Italy. For example, in the tomb of St. Dominic (1221) in Bologna, the pulpits of Pisa (1260) and Siena (1268), and in the fountain of Perugia (1277-1280) created by Niccola Pisano and his son Giovanni, the figures appear to be inspired by those in Roman sarcophagi. A classic approach is also noticeable in the doorway of the Baptistery of Florence by Andrea Pisano (1330), likely influenced by Giotto, whose paintings feature imaginary structures that mix Gothic and Classic details. However, the full development of this style came later, when the papal throne was reestablished under Martin V, leading to improvements in the city of Rome and discoveries that sparked an archaeological interest supported by the Medici in Florence. They were not only passionate collectors of ancient artwork but also promoted the study of ancient forms. Along with acquiring marbles and bronzes, ancient manuscripts from classic writers were sought after, often provided by Greek exiles who anticipated the fall of the eastern empire; therefore, at the beginning of the 15th century, everything encouraged the spread of this new movement. Consequently, when a great architect like Brunelleschi, who had spent fifteen years studying ancient monuments in Rome and possessed significant scientific knowledge, proposed his plans for completing the cathedral designed by Arnolfo di Lapo, showing how the existing structure could be topped with a dome similar to the Pantheon in Rome, his designs were approved by the Florence city council, and in 1420 he was assigned the project. He later completed other works characterized mainly by pure classic architectural forms. However, other factors also contributed to the revival and its expansion to other countries, albeit later. The most significant was the invention of printing (1453), which essentially transformed art, not just by allowing classical literature to be studied and disseminated more widely, but also by diminishing the role of painters, sculptors, and, indirectly, architects in teaching through ecclesiastical architecture. From then on, those who had previously conveyed their messages through sculpture, painting, stained glass, and fresco could directly reach people through printed books. Victor Hugo’s succinct phrase, “ceci tuera cela; le livre tuera l’église,” highlighted the decline of architecture as the main educator and partially indicated the shift in how religious leaders and contemporary writers, poets, and philosophers could best share their work.

With the invention of printing came the partial cessation of fresco painting, stained glass and sculpture, which subsequently came to be regarded more as decorative adjuncts than as having educational functions. But this transfer from the Church to the Book, the extinction of the one by the other, led to another important change. Henceforth the architect or master-mason, as he was then known, could no longer count on the co-operation of the various craftsmen, men often of greater culture than himself; and the individuality of the man, which has sometimes been put forward as a gain to humanity, was a loss so far as architecture is concerned, since it was scarcely possible that the imagination and conceptions of a single individual, however brilliant they might be, could ever reach to the high level of the joint product of many minds, or that there could be the same natural expression in what had hitherto been the traditional work of centuries.

With the invention of printing, there was a decline in fresco painting, stained glass, and sculpture, which started to be seen more as decorative elements rather than educational tools. This shift from the Church to the Book, with one overshadowing the other, brought about another major change. From then on, the architect, or master mason as he was called back then, could no longer rely on the collaboration of various craftsmen, who were often more cultured than he was. While the individuality of the architect has sometimes been seen as a benefit to humanity, it represented a loss for architecture, as it was unlikely that the creativity and ideas of one brilliant person could match the accomplishments made by many minds working together, nor could it replicate the natural expression found in what had been traditional craftsmanship for centuries.

In France the introduction of the Revival resulted at first in a transitional period during which classic details gradually crept in, displacing the Gothic. In Italy this does not seem to have been the case to the same extent. It is true that in Florence and Venice, where an independent style existed, the new buildings in their general principles of design were, copied from the old, but with no mixture of details as in France; in Brunelleschi’s church, Santo Spirito at Florence, the capitals and details are all pure Italian, as pure as if they had been carried out in the 3rd or 4th century, the fact being that already before the 15th century the craftsman’s work was approaching the new movement, and this was facilitated by the numerous remains still existing of Roman architecture. In the four or five years Brunelleschi spent in Rome, he had the opportunity of studying a far larger number of Roman buildings than are preserved at the present day, so that the purity of style in the work which he carried out in Florence was due to his previous training; the same is found in Alberti’s work, and with these two great men leading the way it is not surprising that throughout the earlier Renaissance period in Italy we find a classic perfection of detail which it took half a century to develop in other countries.

In France, the start of the Revival initially led to a transitional phase where classic features gradually replaced the Gothic style. In Italy, this doesn't seem to have happened to the same degree. While it's true that in Florence and Venice, where an independent style existed, the new buildings were generally inspired by the old designs, they did not mix details as seen in France. In Brunelleschi's church, Santo Spirito in Florence, the capitals and details are entirely Italian, as if they were made in the 3rd or 4th century. The reality is that even before the 15th century, craftsmen were already moving towards the new style, aided by the many surviving examples of Roman architecture. During the four to five years Brunelleschi spent in Rome, he had the chance to study many more Roman buildings than we have today, which contributed to the pure style of his work in Florence; the same can be seen in Alberti’s work. With these two great figures leading the way, it’s no surprise that throughout the earlier Renaissance period in Italy, we observe a classic perfection in detail that took half a century to develop in other countries.

It is difficult to say what might have been its ultimate development if another discovery had not been made about 1452, that of the manuscript of Vitruvius, a Roman architect who lived in the time of the emperor Augustus; his work on architecture gives an admirable description of the building materials employed in his day (c. 25 B.C.), and among other subjects, a series of rules regulating the employment of the various orders and their correct proportions. These rules were based on the descriptions which Vitruvius had studied of Greek temples, but as he was not acquainted with the examples quoted, never having been in Greece or even in south Italy at Paestum, his knowledge was confined to the architectural monuments then existing in Rome. Vitruvius’s manuscript, entitled De re aedificatoria, was illustrated by drawings, none of which have however been preserved; when therefore in subsequent years translations of the architectural portion of the manuscript were printed and published by various Italian architects, among whom Vignola and Palladio were the more important, they were accompanied by woodcuts representing their interpretation of the lost illustrations, and thus copybooks of the orders were 409 published, with more or less fidelity to those of existing Roman monuments, in which attempts were made to adhere to the rules laid down by Vitruvius. In Rome and other parts of Italy, where ancient monuments or portions of them still remained in situ, architects could study their details and base their designs on them, but in other countries they were bound to follow the copybook, and thus they lost that originality and freedom of design which characterizes the earlier work of the Renaissance.

It’s hard to say how things might have developed if another discovery hadn’t been made around 1452, specifically the manuscript of Vitruvius, a Roman architect from the time of Emperor Augustus. His work on architecture provides a great description of the building materials used in his era (around 25 B.C.) and includes a set of rules governing the use of different styles and their proper proportions. These rules were based on descriptions of Greek temples that Vitruvius had researched, but since he never visited Greece or even went to southern Italy at Paestum, his knowledge was limited to the architectural monuments that existed in Rome at the time. Vitruvius’s manuscript, titled De re aedificatoria, was accompanied by illustrations, none of which have survived. Therefore, in the years that followed, when various Italian architects, including the notable Vignola and Palladio, printed translations of the architectural sections of the manuscript, they included woodcuts that depicted their interpretations of the lost illustrations. This led to the publication of copybooks of the styles, which varied in accuracy compared to existing Roman monuments, attempting to stick to the rules set by Vitruvius. In Rome and other parts of Italy, where ancient monuments or parts of them still stood in situ, architects were able to study the details and base their designs on them. However, in other countries, they were forced to rely on the copybooks, resulting in a loss of the originality and creative freedom that characterized the earlier work of the Renaissance.

On the other hand, there is no doubt that the publications of Vignola and Palladio, based as they were on the remains of ancient Rome, then much better preserved than at the present day, tended to maintain a high standard in the employment of the Classic orders, with correct proportions and details; so much so, that in referring to the influence which those works exerted from the middle of the 16th century in France and Spain, and during the 17th and 18th centuries in England and to a certain extent in Spain, Germany and the Netherlands, it is generally spoken of as the introduction of the pure Italian style. The tendency, however, of such hard and fast rules leads eventually to an excess in the opposite direction, and the works of Borromini in Italy and Churriguera in Spain in the middle of the 17th century resulted in the production of what is generally referred to as the Rococo style. This style was fostered in France by the attempts to reproduce, externally and in stone, ornamental decoration of a type which is only fitted for internal work in stucco, and in Germany and the Netherlands by reproductions of fantastic designs published in copybooks, which led to the bastard style of the Zwinger palace in Dresden and the Dutch architecture of the 18th century. Vignola’s work on the five orders was published in 1563, and Palladio’s in 1570; they were preceded by a publication of Serlio’s in 1540, giving examples of various architectural compositions, and to him is probably due the introduction of the pure Italian style in the Louvre in 1546. They were followed by other authors, as Scamozzi in Italy, Philibert de l’Orme in France, and, at a later date, Sir William Chambers in England.

On the other hand, there’s no doubt that the works of Vignola and Palladio, which were based on the remnants of ancient Rome—much better preserved back then than they are today—helped to maintain a high standard in using the Classical orders, with accurate proportions and details. This influence, which began in the middle of the 16th century in France and Spain and continued during the 17th and 18th centuries in England, and to some extent in Spain, Germany, and the Netherlands, is often described as the introduction of the pure Italian style. However, the strict adherence to these rules eventually led to an excess in the opposite direction, as seen in the works of Borromini in Italy and Churriguera in Spain in the mid-17th century, which produced what is commonly known as the Rococo style. This style was promoted in France by efforts to recreate, in stone and externally, decorative elements that were only suitable for interior work in stucco. In Germany and the Netherlands, it was influenced by reproducing whimsical designs published in pattern books, which contributed to the hybrid style of the Zwinger Palace in Dresden and the Dutch architecture of the 18th century. Vignola’s work on the five orders was published in 1563, and Palladio’s in 1570; they followed a publication by Serlio in 1540, which presented examples of different architectural designs, and he probably introduced the pure Italian style to the Louvre in 1546. They were succeeded by other authors, such as Scamozzi in Italy, Philibert de l’Orme in France, and later, Sir William Chambers in England.

The term given to the earlier Renaissance or transition work in Italy is the Cinque cento style, though sometimes that title is given to buildings erected in the 16th century; in France it is known as the François I. style, in Spain as the Plateresque or Silversmiths’ style, and in England as the Elizabethan and Jacobean styles.

The term used for the early Renaissance or transitional work in Italy is the Cinque cento style, though this name is sometimes applied to buildings built in the 16th century; in France, it's called the François I. style, in Spain, it's referred to as the Plateresque or Silversmiths’ style, and in England, it's known as the Elizabethan and Jacobean styles.

There is still another and very important difference to be noted between the styles of the middle ages and those of the Renaissance. Although the names of the designers in the former are occasionally known and have been handed down to us, they were only partially responsible, as the works were carried out by other craftsmen working on traditional lines, whereas in the latter they are of much more importance because of the independent thought and study of the individual; and though to a certain extent the development of each man’s work may have been influenced by others working in the same direction, his special object was to acquire personal fame and by his own fancy or predilection to produce what he conceived to be an original work peculiar to himself. Consequently in our description the name of the architect who designed a particular building, as well as the date of its erection, are necessarily given to show the progress made In his studies or otherwise.

There is another very important difference to note between the styles of the Middle Ages and those of the Renaissance. While we occasionally know the names of the designers from the Middle Ages, they were only partially responsible for the works since other craftsmen followed traditional methods. In contrast, during the Renaissance, individual designers played a much more significant role because of their unique thoughts and studies. Although the development of each person's work may have been influenced by others in the same field, their main goal was to gain personal recognition and create what they envisioned as original works unique to themselves. Therefore, in our description, we include the name of the architect who designed a particular building, as well as the date it was built, to highlight the progress made in their studies and practices.

(R. P. S.)

Renaissance Architecture in Italy

Renaissance Architecture in Italy

In the styles hitherto described a chronological order has been followed, as far as possible, in order to show the gradual development of the style; that course is adopted here to a certain extent, when dealing with the Renaissance, though the introduction of the personal element, to which reference has been made, brings in a change of some importance. Henceforth the career of the individual has to be taken into consideration, and at times it may be an advantage when describing a building by an architect of eminence to mention other works by him, and so depart from the chronological sequence.

In the styles described so far, a chronological order has been followed as much as possible to show the gradual development of the style. This approach is used here to some extent when discussing the Renaissance, but the introduction of the personal element, which has been mentioned, brings in a significant change. From now on, the career of the individual must be considered, and sometimes it may be helpful to mention other works by a prominent architect when describing a building, thus straying from the chronological sequence.

Ecclesiastical.—The classic revival in Italy, though foreshadowed in other branches of art, as in painting and sculpture, and also to a marked degree in literature, was virtually introduced by one great man, Filippo Brunelleschi of Florence, who, trained as a sculptor, and disappointed with his want of success in the competition held in 1403 for the bronze gates of the baptistery at Florence, determined to devote himself to architecture, possibly in the hope that he might some day be able to solve the great problem of erecting over the crossing of Arnolfo di Lapo’s great cathedral the dome projected by the latter but never executed. Having spent some years in Rome, Brunelleschi returned to his native town about 1410, with a profound knowledge of classic architecture and of Roman construction, as shown in the Pantheon, the thermae, Colosseum and other remains, then in much better preservation than at the present day. Some years passed in the production of various schemes and in deliberations with the council of Florence, but eventually in 1420 the completion of the cathedral was entrusted to him, and he undertook to construct the dome without centreing, and to raise it on a drum so as to give it greater importance than Arnolfo had contemplated, as shown in the fresco of the Spanish chapel of Santa Maria Novella, Florence. The dome as projected by Brunelleschi was of considerable size, being 130 ft. in diameter and 135 ft. from the cornice to the eye of the dome, including the drum on which it was raised; it was octagonal in plan, and built with an inner and outer casing partly in brick, with angle and two intermediate ribs on each face, which were in stone. The construction of the dome was completed in 1434; but the lantern, built on the basis of the model he had made, was not carried out till 1462, some years after his death. Brunelleschi’s other works in Florence consisted of the church of San Lorenzo, which he rebuilt in 1425 after a fire, and the church of Santo Spirito (1433), a very remarkable building, the design of which was based on the medieval basilicas of Rome, with such modifications in plan and section as his knowledge of ancient Roman work suggested. This church consists of nave, transept and choir, with aisles all round, the centre or crossing being covered with a dome on pendentives, which henceforth became the chief characteristic in all the Renaissance churches. Brunelleschi’s earliest work was the Pazzi chapel, an original conception which is more remarkable for the pure classic feeling and refinement in all its details than for the design. The weakness of the archivolt round the central archway, and the mass of panelled wall carried on columns (far too slight in their dimensions), detract seriously from the effect of the façade; internally the structural function of the pilasters is not sufficiently maintained, and instead of a simple hemispherical dome, as in the cathedral, a quasi-Gothic type was built, with twelve ribs and scalloped cells, which destroys its dignity.

Ecclesiastical.—The classic revival in Italy, while hinted at in other forms of art like painting and sculpture, and notably in literature, was brought to fruition by one remarkable figure, Filippo Brunelleschi from Florence. After training as a sculptor and feeling let down by his lack of success in the 1403 competition for the bronze gates of the baptistery in Florence, he decided to focus on architecture, perhaps hoping to eventually solve the significant challenge of building the dome over the crossing of Arnolfo di Lapo’s grand cathedral, which had been envisioned but never realized. After spending several years in Rome, Brunelleschi returned to his hometown around 1410, armed with a deep understanding of classical architecture and Roman construction techniques, as evidenced by structures like the Pantheon, the thermae, Colosseum, and other remnants that were better preserved than they are today. Several years passed while he developed different plans and consulted with the council of Florence, but ultimately in 1420, he was assigned to complete the cathedral. He took on the task of building the dome without centering, raising it on a drum to enhance its significance compared to what Arnolfo had intended, as depicted in the frescoes of the Spanish chapel of Santa Maria Novella in Florence. The dome that Brunelleschi designed was notably large, measuring 130 ft. in diameter and 135 ft. from the cornice to the peak of the dome, including the drum it sat on. It had an octagonal shape and was built with inner and outer layers partially of brick, featuring stone ribs at the corners and two intermediate ribs on each side. The dome's construction was finalized in 1434; however, the lantern, built according to his model, wasn’t completed until 1462, a few years after his death. Brunelleschi also worked on other projects in Florence, including the church of San Lorenzo, which he rebuilt in 1425 following a fire, and the church of Santo Spirito (1433), a striking building based on medieval basilicas in Rome but modified through his understanding of ancient Roman structures. This church features a nave, transept, and choir, surrounded by aisles, with the center or crossing topped by a dome on pendentives, a feature that became a defining aspect of all Renaissance churches. The Pazzi chapel is among Brunelleschi’s earliest works, notable for its pure classical feel and attention to detail rather than its overall design. The archway around the central arch is weak, and the panelled wall resting on columns (which are too slender) diminishes the façade's impact; inside, the pilasters do not serve their structural role adequately, and instead of a simple hemispherical dome like that of the cathedral, a quasi-Gothic dome was built, featuring twelve ribs and scalloped cells, which undermines its dignity.

Brunelleschi was followed by another great Florentine architect, Leon Battista Alberti, who was also a great mathematician and a scholar, and further promoted the study of classic architecture by writing a treatise in Latin, Opus praestantissimum de re aedificatoria, which was based partly on that of Vitruvius and was published in 1485, after his death, accompanied by illustrations. The first building with which he was connected was the church of San Francesco at Rimini, to which in 1440 he added the front. In this he was evidently inspired by the Roman triumphal arch in that city, and his interpretation of it, to meet the requirements in its façade which were imposed upon him by the existing nave, was admirable. Unfortunately the principal front was never completed, but on the south side he designed a series of recesses to hold the sarcophagi containing the remains of the friends of his client, Sigismondo Malatesta, the effect of which is simple and grand. Alberti’s largest work, the church of Sant’ Andrea at Mantua (1472), in which the nave, transept and choir are all covered with barrel vaults, recalls the vaulted corridors of the Colosseum. There are no aisles, but a series of rectangular chapels on each side, the division walls of which act as buttresses to resist the thrust of the great vault. The lofty arched openings to the chapels, separated by Corinthian pilasters with entablature supporting the coffered vault and a central dome (since rebuilt), complete the structure, which has served since as the model for all the Renaissance churches of the same type. The principal front is not satisfactory, as it takes no cognizance of the width of the nave, and the side doors have no use or meaning; here Alberti seems to have been led astray in his triumphal arch treatment, which is inferior to his scheme for the church at Rimini.

Brunelleschi was succeeded by another prominent Florentine architect, Leon Battista Alberti, who was also a skilled mathematician and scholar. He further advanced the study of classical architecture by writing a treatise in Latin, Opus praestantissimum de re aedificatoria, which was partly based on Vitruvius and published in 1485, after his death, with illustrations. The first building he worked on was the church of San Francesco in Rimini, where he added the façade in 1440. This design was clearly inspired by the Roman triumphal arch in that city, and his adaptation to fit the existing nave's requirements was impressive. Unfortunately, the main façade was never completed, but on the south side, he designed a series of recesses for sarcophagi holding the remains of his client Sigismondo Malatesta's friends, creating a simple yet grand effect. Alberti’s most significant work, the church of Sant’ Andrea in Mantua (1472), features a nave, transept, and choir all covered with barrel vaults that evoke the vaulted corridors of the Colosseum. There are no aisles, but a series of rectangular chapels on each side, with division walls that act as buttresses supporting the thrust of the vast vault. The tall arched openings to the chapels, flanked by Corinthian pilasters and an entablature that supports the coffered vault and a central dome (which has since been rebuilt), complete the structure, which has since served as a model for all Renaissance churches of the same type. The main façade is not satisfactory, as it does not account for the nave's width, and the side doors are pointless; here, Alberti seems to have gone off track with his triumphal arch design, which is inferior to his scheme for the church in Rimini.

In 1462 Michelozzo, another Florentine architect, built the chapel of St Peter at the east end of the church of Sant’ Eustorgio, Milan. Externally it has little attraction, but internally the dome, with its magnificent frieze of winged angels in relief with a painted background of arcades and other accessories, is the most beautiful composition of the Renaissance. Michelozzo’s first work was the Dominican monastery and church of San Marco at Florence (1439-1452), but he is better known for his secular work, to which we shall return.

In 1462, another Florentine architect named Michelozzo constructed the chapel of St. Peter at the east end of the church of Sant’ Eustorgio in Milan. From the outside, it’s not very impressive, but inside, the dome features a stunning frieze of winged angels in relief, set against a painted background of arcades and other details, making it one of the most beautiful designs of the Renaissance. Michelozzo's first project was the Dominican monastery and church of San Marco in Florence (1439-1452), but he’s more well-known for his secular work, which we’ll discuss later.

The next great architect chronologically is Bramante d’ Urbino, to whom was entrusted the commencement of the church of St Peter at Rome. His first important work was the church of Santa Maria della Consolazione at Todi (1472), which consists of a square nave with immense semicircular apses, one on each side. The nave is covered with a dome raised on a drum, and carried on pendentives, and the apses with hemispherical vaults butt against the nave walls and form externally a very fine group. Bramante was the architect of the chapel in the cloisters of San Pietro-in-Montorio, Rome (1472), 410 a small circular building covered with a dome and surrounded with a peristyle of columns of the Doric order; and of the dome of the church of Santa Maria delle Grazie in Milan, as also of the three apses, which are decorated with pilasters and baluster shafts with circular medallions enclosing busts, all in terra cotta. Before passing to his work at St Peter’s there are some other early churches we must notice. The Certosa, near Pavia, was begun in 1396, and in one sense suggests the revival of classic architecture, in that all its arches have semicircular heads. The magnificent façade of the church was commenced in 1473 from the designs of Borgognone, a Milanese architect: it is one of the few examples in Italy of large size in which the transition is noticeable, for although there are no Gothic details the design follows that of the middle ages, and instead of great pilasters of the Corinthian order, buttresses with niches containing statues divide the façade and accentuate the internal divisions of the church; the open galleries above the entrance doorway crossing the upper storey of the central portion are all derived from well-known Lombardic features. The upper part of the façade is inferior to the lower, Borgognone’s design having been departed from. The enrichment of the whole front, from the lower plinth to the string course under the first gallery, with bas-reliefs, panelled pilasters, niches, medallions and other decorative accessories, all in white marble, so completely covers the whole surface that scarcely any portion is left plain, which to a certain extent detracts from its effect as a whole; but there is an endless variety of design, and the baluster or candelabrum shafts dividing the windows and the friezes and cresting above their cornices, are of great beauty. The circular rose window above, with its enclosing frontispiece of later date, shows the coming influence of the later Italian style. The cloisters adjoining are surrounded with a light arcade, with enrichments in the spandrils and frieze, all in terra cotta.

The next major architect in chronological order is Bramante d'Urbino, who was tasked with starting the construction of St. Peter's Church in Rome. His first significant project was the church of Santa Maria della Consolazione in Todi (1472), which features a square nave with enormous semicircular apses on each side. The nave is topped with a dome set on a drum and supported by pendentives, while the apses have hemispherical vaults that push against the nave walls, creating an impressive exterior. Bramante also designed the chapel in the cloisters of San Pietro-in-Montorio, Rome (1472), a small circular building crowned with a dome and enclosed by a peristyle of Doric columns. He was responsible for the dome of Santa Maria delle Grazie Church in Milan and the three apses adorned with pilasters and baluster shafts featuring circular medallions with busts, all made from terra cotta. Before moving on to his work at St. Peter's, we should recognize a few other early churches. The Certosa, located near Pavia, began in 1396 and somewhat symbolizes the revival of classical architecture, as all its arches have semicircular tops. The beautiful façade of the church started in 1473 based on designs by Borgognone, a Milanese architect; it's one of the few large examples in Italy where the transition is apparent; despite the absence of Gothic details, the design is medieval. Instead of massive Corinthian pilasters, buttresses with niches that hold statues break up the façade and highlight the church's internal divisions. Open galleries above the entrance door span the upper level of the central section, inspired by familiar Lombard features. The upper part of the façade is less impressive than the lower, as Borgognone's original design was modified. The entire front, from the lower plinth to the string course under the first gallery, is adorned with bas-reliefs, panelled pilasters, niches, medallions, and various decorative elements, all in white marble, covering the surface so thoroughly that very little remains plain, somewhat diminishing its overall impact; however, there is a rich variety of designs, and the baluster or candelabrum shafts dividing the windows, along with the friezes and cresting above their cornices, are beautifully crafted. The circular rose window above, with its later style frontispiece, hints at the upcoming influence of the later Italian style. The adjacent cloisters feature a light arcade with decorations in the spandrils and frieze, all made from terra cotta.

The cathedral of Como is also a transitional example, where buttresses are employed all round the church, and it is only in the finials which surmount them, the great projecting cornice which crowns the structure, and the doorways and windows, that we find classical details; the doorways recall the porches of the Lombard churches, and are of great beauty in design, the south doorway being said to be by Bramante. Another example, remarkable for its elaborately carved front and porch, is the church of Santa Maria dei Miracoli at Brescia (1487-1490) by Ludovici Beretta, which both externally and internally is one of the richest specimens of the early Italian Renaissance. The church dedicated to Santa Maria dei Miracoli in Venice (1481-1489), by Pietro Lombardo, is another transitional example in which the Byzantine influence of St Mark’s is recognizable in the semicircular pediments of its façade and of the exterior of the chancel, and Lombardic influence in its external decorations with pilaster strips and blind arcades. The interior is one of the gems of the Renaissance, on account of its splendid decoration with marble linings and fine cinque-cento carving. Similar semicircular pediments are found in the façade of the church of San Zaccharia at Venice (1515), but are purely decorative because the roof behind is not semicircular like that of the Miracoli. The decoration of the main front, here all in marble, is of an entirely different design, and is subdivided into a series of storeys, the lower panelled, the first storey with arcades and the upper ones with pilasters. An earlier example (1461) in San Bernardino at Perugia is of a far higher standard, and its enrichment with bas-reliefs by the Florentine sculptor Agostino di Duccio (c. 1418-c. 1490) gives it the first place for its conception and execution. Among others, the church of Spirito Santo, Bologna, in terra cotta; the church of Santa Giustina, Padua (1532); the sacristy of San Satiro, Milan (1479), by Bramante; and the sacristy of the church of Santo Spirito, Florence (1489-1496), by Sangallo, are all interesting examples of the early Renaissance in Italy.

The cathedral of Como is also a transitional example, featuring buttresses all around the church. Classical details appear only in the finials that sit atop them, the large projecting cornice that tops the structure, and in the doorways and windows. The doorways are reminiscent of the porches of Lombard churches and are beautifully designed, with the south doorway attributed to Bramante. Another noteworthy example, known for its intricately carved front and porch, is the church of Santa Maria dei Miracoli in Brescia (1487-1490) by Ludovici Beretta, which is one of the richest examples of the early Italian Renaissance both inside and out. The church dedicated to Santa Maria dei Miracoli in Venice (1481-1489), by Pietro Lombardo, is another transitional example where the Byzantine influence of St. Mark’s is evident in the semicircular pediments of its façade and the exterior of the chancel, with Lombard influences visible in its external decorations featuring pilaster strips and blind arcades. The interior is one of the gems of the Renaissance due to its stunning decoration with marble linings and exquisite 16th-century carving. Similar semicircular pediments are found in the façade of the church of San Zaccharia in Venice (1515), but they are purely decorative since the roof behind isn't semicircular like that of the Miracoli. The main front's decoration, entirely in marble, has a completely different design and is divided into a series of levels, with the lower section panelled, the first level featuring arcades, and the upper levels adorned with pilasters. An earlier example (1461) in San Bernardino at Perugia is of a much higher standard, and its embellishment with bas-reliefs by the Florentine sculptor Agostino di Duccio (c. 1418-c. 1490) earns it top marks for its concept and execution. Other notable examples include the church of Spirito Santo in Bologna, made of terracotta; the church of Santa Giustina in Padua (1532); the sacristy of San Satiro in Milan (1479), by Bramante; and the sacristy of the church of Santo Spirito in Florence (1489-1496), by Sangallo, all of which are interesting representations of early Renaissance architecture in Italy.

Fig. 51.—Plan of St Peter’s at Rome.

In 1505, on the advice of Michelangelo, Bramante was instructed to prepare designs for a new church in Rome dedicated to St Peter, to take the place of the early basilica, which, built in haste, began to show serious signs of failure. Already, fifty years earlier, Pope Nicholas V. had commenced a new building, the erection of which was stopped by his death in 1454. The scheme was revived by Julius II., and the foundation stone of the new structure was laid in 1506. On Bramante’s death in 1514, Raphael, Peruzzi and Sangallo were successively appointed, and the last named prepared a new design, which, however, was not carried out, as he found it necessary first to strengthen the piers of the dome provided by Bramante and to remedy the defects of his successors. In 1546 Michelangelo, then seventy-two years of age, was entrusted with the continuance of the work, and he made radical changes, chiefly in the design of the dome. Comparison of the plans of Bramante and Sangallo with that actually carried out by Michelangelo shows that he not only increased the size of the piers to carry his dome, but the outer walls of the north, south and west apses, and omitted the aisles which surrounded the latter (fig. 51). He would seem to have availed himself of the foundation walls already built and of Bramante’s piers to carry the dome, which had been raised up to the cornice, but otherwise the architectural features of the whole building externally and internally were carried out from Michelangelo’s own designs. Sangallo had suggested for the exterior a series of superimposed orders with three storeys; Michelangelo elected to have one order only with an attic storey. The building gained thereby in dignity, but it lost in scale, for the huge pilasters of the Corinthian order (87 ft. high) look considerably smaller, in spite of the two storeys of windows between them. These windows also, which from their design are apparently about 10 to 12 ft. high, actually measure 20 ft. in height. The same defect exists in the interior, where the Corinthian order, over 100 ft. in height to the top of the cornice (Plate III., fig. 69), calls for a similar increase in the dimensions of all the sculptured decorations; the figures in the spandrils being 20 ft. high, and the cherubs supporting the holy water spouts 10 ft. Otherwise the scheme realizes the conception which Bramante proposed from the first, viz. to raise the dome of the Pantheon on the top of the basilica of Constantine; the latter being represented by the magnificent barrel vault (75 ft. in span) of the nave, transepts and choir; the former by the great hemispherical dome, 140 ft. in diameter, which, including the drum, is 162 ft. from the top of the cornice above the pendentives to the soffit of the dome. The dome is built in two shells with connecting ribs on the same principle as Brunelleschi’s dome in Florence, and was nearly completed before Michelangelo’s death in 1563, and the lantern in 1590 from the model which he had made. In 1605 the east end of the old basilica was taken down, and three more bays were added, thus converting the Greek cross of Michelangelo’s design into the Latin cross originally conceived by Bramante. The nave and the eastern vestibule were completed in 1620, and the great semicircular portico was added by Bernini in 1667. The immense height of the east façade, and its prolongation in front of Michelangelo’s chief feature, the dome, hides the design of a great portion of the latter, so that it can only be seen either from a great distance 411 (Plate III., fig. 68), or from behind the western apse, where the relative grouping with the great apses can be properly appreciated. A second well-known work by Michelangelo is the new sacristy of the church of San Lorenzo, Florence (1523-1529), designed to contain the monuments of Giuliano and Lorenzo de’ Medici, the architectural design of which is poor.

In 1505, based on Michelangelo's advice, Bramante was instructed to create designs for a new church in Rome dedicated to St. Peter, replacing the earlier basilica, which had been built quickly and was starting to fail. Fifty years earlier, Pope Nicholas V had begun a new construction project, which was halted by his death in 1454. Julius II revived the plan, and the foundation stone for the new structure was laid in 1506. After Bramante's death in 1514, Raphael, Peruzzi, and Sangallo took over in succession, with Sangallo creating a new design that ultimately wasn't implemented because he deemed it necessary to first strengthen the dome piers created by Bramante and address the flaws left by his successors. In 1546, Michelangelo, who was seventy-two at the time, was tasked with continuing the work. He made significant changes, particularly to the dome's design. A comparison of Bramante and Sangallo's plans with Michelangelo's final design shows that he not only enlarged the piers to support his dome but also the outer walls of the north, south, and west apses, and eliminated the aisles that surrounded them (fig. 51). He seemed to have utilized the already-built foundation walls and Bramante’s piers to support the dome, which had been raised to the cornice; otherwise, the building's architectural features, both externally and internally, were based on Michelangelo's own designs. Sangallo had recommended a series of stacked orders for the exterior with three stories; Michelangelo chose to have just one order plus an attic. This choice added dignity to the building, but diminished its scale since the large Corinthian pilasters (87 ft. high) appeared considerably smaller despite the two stories of windows between them. These windows, designed to seem about 10 to 12 ft. high, actually measured 20 ft. tall. A similar issue exists inside, where the Corinthian order, standing over 100 ft. high to the top of the cornice (Plate III., fig. 69), necessitates a corresponding increase in the dimensions of all the sculptural decorations; the figures in the spandrels are 20 ft. tall, and the cherubs holding the holy water spouts are 10 ft. high. Nevertheless, the scheme realizes Bramante's original idea of raising the Pantheon's dome atop Constantine's basilica, represented by the grand barrel vault (75 ft. in span) of the nave, transepts, and choir, and the large hemispherical dome, 140 ft. in diameter, which, including the drum, rises to 162 ft. from the top of the cornice above the pendentives to the dome's soffit. The dome was constructed with two shells and connecting ribs, similar to Brunelleschi's dome in Florence, and was nearly finished before Michelangelo's death in 1563, with the lantern completed in 1590 based on his model. In 1605, the east end of the old basilica was demolished, and three more bays were added, transforming the Greek cross of Michelangelo's design into the Latin cross originally planned by Bramante. The nave and eastern vestibule were finished in 1620, and the grand semicircular portico was added by Bernini in 1667. The immense height of the east façade, extending in front of Michelangelo’s main feature, the dome, obscures much of its design, making it visible only from a significant distance (Plate III., fig. 68) or from behind the western apse, where the arrangement with the large apses can be properly appreciated. Another well-known work by Michelangelo is the new sacristy of the Church of San Lorenzo in Florence (1523-1529), designed to hold the monuments of Giuliano and Lorenzo de’ Medici, although its architectural design is considered lackluster.

Antonio di Sangallo was the architect of the church of San Biagio at Montepulciano (1518), with a cruciform plan, and dome in the centre, and a campanile at the south-west angle somewhat similar to those of Wren in London.

Antonio di Sangallo was the architect of the church of San Biagio at Montepulciano (1518), featuring a cross-shaped layout, a dome in the center, and a bell tower at the southwest corner that's somewhat similar to those by Wren in London.

The church of Santa Maria-di-Carignano (1552) at Genoa, by Galeazzo Alessi, is finely situated but unsatisfactory in its design, the lower part being stunted in its proportions and its order to a different scale from that in the campanile towers and the dome. The most beautiful interior is that of the Annunziata in the same town, by Giacomo della Porta (1587); the arches of its nave arcade are carried on Corinthian columns of marble, of fine proportion, and the nave is covered with a barrel vault with penetrations admitting the light from clerestory windows. The churches of San Giorgio Maggiore (1556-1579), San Francesco della Vigna (1562), and II Redentore (1577), all in Venice, were designed by Palladio, the interior of the latter being the finest; the façade of the first named is the best-proportioned, but whether its design is due to Palladio, or to Scamozzi, who built it in 1610, is not known. A far finer church in its picturesque grouping and the originality of its design is that of Santa Maria della Salute on the Grand Canal (1631), by Baldassare Longhena; the church is octagonal on plan, with aisles round, giving access to six recesses with altars and to an important eastern chapel with central dome. The central octagon is covered with a lofty dome with immense corbel buttresses of vigorous and fine design. The entrance portal of the west front is perhaps the best example of the period in Italy. Longhena also designed the Santa Maria degli Scalzi (1680), completed by Sardi in 1689, the latter being responsible for the heavy front of San Salvatore (1663), as also of the rich but somewhat debased church, in the Jesuit style, Santa Maria Zobenigo (1680-1683).

The Church of Santa Maria di Carignano (1552) in Genoa, designed by Galeazzo Alessi, has a great location but is lacking in design. Its lower section has awkward proportions, and its architectural style doesn’t match the taller campanile and dome. The most stunning interior belongs to the Annunziata, also in Genoa, designed by Giacomo della Porta (1587). Its nave arcade features Corinthian marble columns with excellent proportions, and the nave itself is topped with a barrel vault that has openings for light from clerestory windows. The churches of San Giorgio Maggiore (1556-1579), San Francesco della Vigna (1562), and Il Redentore (1577) in Venice were all designed by Palladio, with the interior of Il Redentore being the most impressive. San Giorgio Maggiore has the best-proportioned façade, although it’s unclear whether Palladio or Scamozzi, who constructed it in 1610, was responsible for its design. A much more remarkable church, known for its picturesque layout and unique design, is Santa Maria della Salute along the Grand Canal (1631), created by Baldassare Longhena. This church has an octagonal layout with aisles that lead to six recesses with altars and a significant eastern chapel crowned by a central dome. The main octagon is topped with a tall dome supported by large corbel buttresses that display strong, elegant design. The entrance portal on the west front is arguably the finest example of its time in Italy. Longhena also designed Santa Maria degli Scalzi (1680), which was finished by Sardi in 1689. Sardi was also responsible for the imposing façade of San Salvatore (1663) and the lavish yet somewhat diluted Jesuit-style church, Santa Maria Zobenigo (1680-1683).

Secular Architecture.—In the application of the leading features of classical architectural design to palaces and mansions, the Italians had a much easier field on which to exercise their originality, as the requirements were very different from those which obtained in the middle ages. Moreover, the classic style lent itself more readily to the horizontal lines given by string courses, cornices and ranges of windows, which naturally exist in dwelling-houses on account of the various storeys. As in ecclesiastical, so in secular architecture, the first introduction of the Revival takes place in Florence, which was then the principal art centre of Italy, and the earliest examples are in a sense transitional, in that they are based on the earlier medieval work. As in the Palazzo Vecchio (1298) in Florence, and the Ricciarelli palace at Volterra (c. 1320), the rusticated masonry which gives them so fine a character forms the chief characteristic of the Riccardi and Strozzi palaces, the only changes being the substitution of a classic cornice of considerable projection in the place of the machicolations of the Palazzo Vecchio, and the employment of circular arches in the windows in the place of the pointed and curved arches.

Secular Architecture.—When it came to applying the key features of classical architectural design to palaces and mansions, the Italians had a much easier time showcasing their creativity, as the needs were quite different from those during the Middle Ages. Additionally, the classical style easily accommodated the horizontal lines created by string courses, cornices, and rows of windows, which naturally exist in homes due to their multiple stories. Just like in church architecture, the initial introduction of the Revival started in Florence, which was then the main art hub of Italy. The earliest examples can be seen as transitional since they were influenced by earlier medieval work. For instance, in the Palazzo Vecchio (1298) in Florence and the Ricciarelli palace at Volterra (c. 1320), the rough masonry that gives them such a distinguished character is a key feature of the Riccardi and Strozzi palaces. The only notable changes were the addition of a classic cornice with a significant projection in place of the machicolations of the Palazzo Vecchio and the use of circular arches in the windows instead of pointed and curved arches.

The earliest example, the Riccardi palace (1430), by Michelozzo (fig. 52), built for Cosimo de’ Medici, is certainly the finest, owing partly to its size but more especially to the magnificent bossed and rusticated masonry of the ground storey and the bold projecting cornice, which crowns so admirably the whole structure. The lower two storeys of the main front of the Pitti palace were built by Brunelleschi in 1435, the return wings and court not being carried out till after 1550 from the designs of Ammanati; compared with the other Tuscan palaces the cornice is extremely poor and the whole front too monotonous. The beautiful court of the Palazzo Vecchio was reconstructed and decorated by Michelozzo in 1434. The Strozzi palace (1489), by Benedetto da Maiano and S. Pollajuolo, (Cronaca), comes next to the Riccardi as regards general design, but in comparison with it the windows are too small, and the want of a much bolder rustication, as provided in the latter, is much felt. Other examples of the same type are the Gondi (1481) and the Antinori palaces, by G. di Sangallo, and the Casa Larderel, all in Florence; the Spanochi (1470) and the Piccolomini (1460) palaces in Siena, and the Piccolomini palace (1490) in Pienza. In the Guadagni palace at Florence, by S. Pollajuolo, there is a third storey, consisting of an open gallery, which gives the depth of shadow otherwise afforded by the projecting cornice. In the Ruccellai palace (1460), by Alberti, the design is spoilt by the introduction of the classic pilasters at regular intervals on each storey, which suggest no structural object and have too little projection to give any effect of light and shade, so that it is only on account of the purity of their details that they are worth notice. The Pandolphini palace, the design of which is attributed to Raphael, carried out after his death by Sangallo, is a simple and unpretentious building of fine proportions: the Pall Mall façade of Sir Charles Barry’s Travellers’ Club in London is a reproduction of this palace. The Bartolini palace (1520), by Baccio d’ Agnolo, is said to have been the first astylar example in which the Classic orders were employed only to decorate the entrance door and windows, but this had already been done in 1488 in the Scuola di San Marco in Venice.

The earliest example, the Riccardi Palace (1430), designed by Michelozzo (fig. 52), was built for Cosimo de’ Medici and is definitely the finest. This is due in part to its size but more so to the stunning textured and rusticated stonework of the ground floor and the bold overhanging cornice that beautifully crowns the entire structure. The lower two stories of the main facade of the Pitti Palace were constructed by Brunelleschi in 1435, with the side wings and courtyard added after 1550 based on designs by Ammanati; compared to other Tuscan palaces, the cornice is quite underwhelming, and the entire front feels too uniform. The gorgeous courtyard of the Palazzo Vecchio was rebuilt and decorated by Michelozzo in 1434. The Strozzi Palace (1489), by Benedetto da Maiano and S. Pollajuolo (Cronaca), is next to the Riccardi in terms of overall design, but its windows are too small in comparison, and the lack of much bolder rustication, like that found in the Riccardi, is noticeably missing. Other examples of the same style include the Gondi (1481) and the Antinori palaces, by G. di Sangallo, along with the Casa Larderel, all located in Florence; also the Spanochi (1470) and Piccolomini (1460) palaces in Siena, and the Piccolomini Palace (1490) in Pienza. In the Guadagni Palace in Florence, designed by S. Pollajuolo, there is a third story consisting of an open gallery that provides the depth of shadow that would otherwise come from a projecting cornice. In the Ruccellai Palace (1460), designed by Alberti, the look is ruined by the addition of classical pilasters placed at regular intervals on each floor, which serve no structural purpose and are too shallow to create any light and shade effect, so they’re mainly noteworthy for their clean details. The Pandolphini Palace, a design attributed to Raphael and completed after his death by Sangallo, is a simple and unpretentious building with great proportions; the Pall Mall facade of Sir Charles Barry’s Travellers’ Club in London is modeled after this palace. The Bartolini Palace (1520), by Baccio d’ Agnolo, is said to be the first astylar example that used Classical orders solely to decorate the entrance door and windows, but this had already been done in 1488 at the Scuola di San Marco in Venice.

Throughout the greater part of the 15th century, the Venetian Gothic style still held its own in the palaces of Venice, so that it is only towards the close of the century we find the first actual results of the Classic Revival. The earlier palaces may be looked upon as transitional work, in which Gothic principles rule the design while the details are borrowed from classic sources. The intimate acquaintance with the proportions of the Classic orders and their ornamental detail shows that the designers of the earliest Renaissance palaces must have acquired their knowledge outside Venice. Among these designers we find the names of members of the Lombardi family (which, as the name suggests, come from Lombardy), who for three or four generations, either as architects or sculptors, would seem to have been the chief founders of the Renaissance style in Venice. One of these, Pietro Lombardo, has already been referred to as the designer of the church of the Miracoli, and to him is due the Vendramini-Calerghi palace on the Grand Canal (Plate IV., fig. 71), built in 1481, which in some respects is the finest example in Venice. It should be observed that all these palaces on the Grand Canal have an architectural frontage only, the flanks being built in plain masonry or brick stuccoed over, and with very poor, if any, dressings to the windows. This is well exemplified in the Vendramini palace, where there are gardens on each side, showing the total want of correlation between the rich architectural front and the poverty of the flanks.

Throughout most of the 15th century, the Venetian Gothic style remained prominent in the palaces of Venice, so it’s only towards the end of the century that we start to see the actual results of the Classic Revival. The earlier palaces can be considered transitional works, where Gothic principles dominate the design while the details are taken from classic sources. The close familiarity with the proportions of the Classic orders and their ornamental details indicates that the designers of the earliest Renaissance palaces must have learned their craft outside of Venice. Among these designers, we find members of the Lombardi family (which, as the name suggests, hail from Lombardy), who for three or four generations served as architects or sculptors and were the main architects of the Renaissance style in Venice. One of them, Pietro Lombardo, has already been mentioned as the designer of the church of the Miracoli, and he is credited with the Vendramini-Calerghi palace on the Grand Canal (Plate IV., fig. 71), built in 1481, which is considered one of the finest examples in Venice. It’s important to note that all these palaces along the Grand Canal feature a decorative architectural facade only; the sides are constructed of plain masonry or brick smeared with stucco, and have very minimal, if any, decorative elements on the windows. This is clearly illustrated in the Vendramini palace, where gardens on each side highlight the stark contrast between the lavish architectural front and the simplicity of the sides.

From a photo by Almari.
Fig. 52.—Riccardi Palace, Florence.

In a still earlier example, the Dario palace, one of the flanks borders on a side canal, so that its brick construction, partly covered with stucco, contrasts strangely with the rich marbles encrusting the main front. In the Dario palace the transition from Gothic to Renaissance is more clearly seen, as the only changes made are the substitution of circular window-heads for the Ogee Venetian arch, the projecting cornice with modillions, and more or less pure classic details. In the Vendramini palace the employment of the orders, to break up or subdivide the wall surface, has become a recognized treatment, based on the theatre of Marcellus and the Colosseum at Rome. On the ground storey there are panelled pilasters only, but on the first and second storeys three-quarter detached columns of the Corinthian order are employed, and the entablature is doubled in height with a bold projecting cornice, so as to crown properly the whole building.

In an even earlier example, the Dario palace has one side that borders a canal, causing its brick construction, which is partly covered in stucco, to stand in stark contrast to the rich marbles that adorn the main facade. The transition from Gothic to Renaissance is more evident in the Dario palace, as the only changes made are replacing the Ogee Venetian arch with circular window heads, adding a projecting cornice with modillions, and including classic details that are more or less pure. In the Vendramini palace, the use of architectural orders to break up or subdivide the wall surface has become a standard approach, inspired by the theater of Marcellus and the Colosseum in Rome. On the ground floor, there are only paneled pilasters, but on the first and second floors, three-quarter detached columns of the Corinthian order are used, and the entablature is doubled in height with a bold projecting cornice to properly crown the entire building.

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The semicircular-headed windows of the palace are filled with moulded tracery carried on columns in the centre of each, which must be looked upon as the classic version of the arcade of the Ducal palace. This feature is found in other early Renaissance work in Venice, as in the Scuola de San Rocco (1517), and the Cornaro Spinelli palace (1480). In the latter, probably also by Pietro Lombardo, there are pilasters only on the groins of the main front, and the window-heads are enclosed in square-headed frames. In the Scuola de San Marco (1488), by Lombardo, we find another type of window, single and lofty, with pilaster strips each side carrying an entablature with pediment. The same window decoration is found on the south and west fronts of the court of the Ducal palace and the external south front, and also in the Camerlenghi palace (1525), by Bergamasco and in other examples of early 16th-century work. In the Scuola de San Rocco the columnar decoration assumes much greater importance, and, in imitation of the triumphal arches of Septimus Severus and Constantine in Rome, the column is completely detached, with a wall-respond behind. Among other examples to be noted are the Cornaro-della-Grande palace (1532), by Sansovino, which is very inferior to his other work in Venice; the Grimani palace (1554), by San Michele (who also designed the fortifications of the Lido); the Zecca or mint (1537), the small loggetta (1540) at the foot of the campanile of St Mark’s and now destroyed, and the Procuratie Nuove (completed by Scamozzi in 1584), all by Sansovino; the Balbi palace (1582), by Vittoria; and the Ponte Rialto (1588), by Antonio da Ponte. Sansovino’s greatest work in Venice was the library of St Mark’s, which was commenced in 1531; in this he has shown not only remarkable powers of design but great boldness in the projection of his columns, cornices and other architectural features. The upper frieze has been increased in height, so as to admit of the introduction of small windows to light an upper storey, and this gives much greater importance and dignity to the entablature crowning the whole structure. Two of the most imposing palaces on the Grand Canal, but of later date, are the Pesaro (1679) and the Rezzonico (1680), both by Longhena, the architect of the Salute church. The former is too much overcharged with ornament, but it has one advantage, the classic superimposed orders of the main front being repeated on the flank overlooking the side canal, with pilasters substituted for the detached columns of the main front. The Rezzonico palace is much quieter in design, and finer in its proportions, but even there the cherubs in the spandrils are too pronounced in their relief.

The semicircular-headed windows of the palace are filled with molded tracery supported by columns in the center of each, which should be seen as the classic version of the arcade of the Ducal palace. This feature appears in other early Renaissance work in Venice, like the Scuola de San Rocco (1517) and the Cornaro Spinelli palace (1480). In the latter, likely also by Pietro Lombardo, there are pilasters only on the corners of the main front, and the window heads are framed in square-headed designs. In the Scuola de San Marco (1488), by Lombardo, we find another type of window, single and tall, with pilaster strips on each side supporting an entablature with a pediment. The same window decoration is present on the south and west fronts of the Ducal palace’s courtyard and the external south front, and also in the Camerlenghi palace (1525), designed by Bergamasco, along with other examples from the early 16th century. In the Scuola de San Rocco, the column decoration takes on much greater significance, and, mimicking the triumphal arches of Septimus Severus and Constantine in Rome, the columns are fully detached, with a wall-respond behind. Other notable examples include the Cornaro-della-Grande palace (1532), by Sansovino, which is far less impressive than his other works in Venice; the Grimani palace (1554), by San Michele (who also designed the fortifications of the Lido); the Zecca or mint (1537), the small loggetta (1540) at the foot of the campanile of St. Mark’s, now destroyed, and the Procuratie Nuove (finished by Scamozzi in 1584), all by Sansovino; the Balbi palace (1582), by Vittoria; and the Ponte Rialto (1588), by Antonio da Ponte. Sansovino’s greatest accomplishment in Venice was the library of St. Mark’s, which began construction in 1531; here he demonstrated not only remarkable design skills but also boldness in the projection of his columns, cornices, and other architectural elements. The upper frieze was raised to allow for small windows to light an upper story, giving much greater importance and dignity to the entablature that crowns the entire structure. Two of the most impressive palaces on the Grand Canal, though built later, are the Pesaro (1679) and the Rezzonico (1680), both by Longhena, the architect of the Salute church. The former is overly ornate, but it has the advantage of having the classic superimposed orders of the main front repeated on the side facing the side canal, with pilasters replacing the detached columns of the main front. The Rezzonico palace has a quieter design and finer proportions, but even there the cherubs in the spandrils are too pronounced in their relief.

In Rome there are no important examples of the 15th century, with the exception of the so-called “Venetian palace,” which still retains externally the features of the feudal castle, such as machicolations, small windows and rusticated masonry. This was owing probably to the comparative poverty of the city, which had to recover from the disasters of the 14th century. The earliest example of the Renaissance is that of the Cancellaria palace (1495-1505), by Bramante, the architect of the church at Todi; this was followed by a second and less important example, the Giraud or Torlonia palace (1506). The former is an immense block, 300 ft. long and 76 ft. high, in three storeys, with coursed masonry and slightly bevelled joints, the upper two storeys decorated with Corinthian pilasters of slight projection and crowned with a poor cornice, so that its general effect is very monotonous, and the design is only relieved by the purity of its details, such as those of the window and balcony on the return flank. In 1506 Bramante was instructed to carry out the court of the Vatican, of which the great hemicycle at one end, designed in imitation of similar features in the Roman thermae, is an extremely fine example; to what extent he was responsible for the court of the Loggie, decorated by Raphael, is not known. The Villa Farnesina (1506), best known for its fresco decorations by Raphael and his pupils; the Ossoli palace (1525); and the Massimi palace (1532-1536), with magnificent interiors, were all built by Baldassare Peruzzi. The finest example in Rome is the Farnese palace, commenced in 1530 from the designs of Antonio di Sangallo; the design is astylar, as the employment of the orders is confined to the window dressings, the angles of the front having rusticated quoins; the upper storey, with the magnificent cornice which crowns the whole building, was designed by Michelangelo, and in the upper storey he introduced a feature borrowed from the Roman thermae, brackets supporting the three-quarter detached columns flanking the windows. The brilliance of the design is not confined to the exterior, and the entrance vestibule and the great central court are the finest examples in Rome. Here the upper storey added by Michelangelo is inferior to the two lower storeys by Sangallo.

In Rome, there aren't many significant examples from the 15th century, except for the so-called “Venetian palace,” which still shows the features of a medieval castle on the outside, like machicolations, small windows, and rough stonework. This is likely due to the city's relative poverty as it was recovering from the disasters of the 14th century. The earliest example of Renaissance architecture is the Cancellaria palace (1495-1505), designed by Bramante, who also worked on the church in Todi. This was followed by a second, less notable example, the Giraud or Torlonia palace (1506). The Cancellaria palace is a massive structure, 300 ft. long and 76 ft. high, featuring three stories with neatly arranged stonework and slightly beveled joints. The upper two stories are adorned with Corinthian pilasters that slightly project and are topped with a basic cornice, giving it a generally monotonous appearance. The design is only enhanced by the elegance of details, such as those found in the windows and balcony on the side. In 1506, Bramante was tasked with designing the court of the Vatican, and the grand semi-circular section at one end, inspired by similar features in Roman bathhouses, is an excellent example of his work. It's unclear how much of the Loggie court, which was decorated by Raphael, can be attributed to him. The Villa Farnesina (1506) is best known for its frescoes by Raphael and his students; the Ossoli palace (1525); and the Massimi palace (1532-1536), with its stunning interiors, were all built by Baldassare Peruzzi. The most impressive example in Rome is the Farnese palace, which began construction in 1530 based on Antonio di Sangallo's designs. The design lacks decorative orders, as they are only used for the window frames, with rough stone corners at the edges of the facade. The upper story, which features a magnificent cornice that caps the entire building, was designed by Michelangelo. In this upper portion, he incorporated elements from Roman bathhouses, such as brackets supporting the three-quarter detached columns beside the windows. The brilliance of the design isn't limited to the exterior; the entrance vestibule and the grand central court are also some of the finest examples in Rome. Here, the upper story added by Michelangelo doesn't match the quality of the two lower stories by Sangallo.

The museum in the Capitol at Rome, by Michelangelo (1546), is one of those examples in which the principles of design are violated by the suppression of the horizontal divisions of the storeys which it should have been an object to emphasize. By carrying immense Corinthian pilasters, through the ground and first storeys, Michelangelo, it is true, obtained the entablature of the order as the chief crowning feature, and so far the result is a success, but in other hands it led to the decadence of the style. Among other examples in Rome which should be mentioned are the Villa Madama by Giulio Romano (1524); the Nicolini palace (1526) by Giacomo Sansovino; the Villa Medici (1540) by Annibale Lippi; the Chigi palace (1562) by G. de la Porta; the Spada palace (1564) by Mazzoni; the Quirinal palace (1574) by Fontana (the architect who raised the obelisk in the Piazza di San Pietro); and the Borghese palace (1590) by Martino Lunghi.

The museum in the Capitol in Rome, designed by Michelangelo (1546), is one of those examples where design principles are overlooked by missing the horizontal divisions of the floors that should have been highlighted. By using massive Corinthian pilasters throughout the ground and first floors, Michelangelo did achieve the entablature of the order as the main crowning feature, and in that respect, it’s a success. However, in the hands of others, it contributed to the decline of the style. Other notable examples in Rome include Villa Madama by Giulio Romano (1524); Nicolini Palace (1526) by Giacomo Sansovino; Villa Medici (1540) by Annibale Lippi; Chigi Palace (1562) by G. de la Porta; Spada Palace (1564) by Mazzoni; Quirinal Palace (1574) by Fontana (the architect who raised the obelisk in Piazza di San Pietro); and Borghese Palace (1590) by Martino Lunghi.

We now return to about the middle of the 16th century, to the period when the great architects Barozzi da Vignola and Andrea Palladio of Vicenza commenced their career, and by their works and publications exercised a great and important influence on European architecture.

We now return to around the middle of the 16th century, when the prominent architects Barozzi da Vignola and Andrea Palladio from Vicenza started their careers, and through their works and publications had a significant impact on European architecture.

The villa of Pope Julius (1550), and the Costa palace, Rome, are good examples of Vignola’s style, always very pure and of good proportions, but his principal work was that of the Caprarola palace (1555-1559), about 30 m. from Rome, which he built for the cardinal Alessandro Farnese. The plan is pentagonal with a central circular court, and it is raised on a lofty terrace; the palace is in two storeys with rusticated quoins to the angle wings, and the Doric and Ionic orders, superimposed, separating arcades on the lower storeys and windows on the upper. The arcade of the central court is of admirable proportions and detail, second only to that of the Farnese palace.

The villa of Pope Julius (1550) and the Costa palace in Rome are great examples of Vignola’s style, which is always very clean and well-proportioned. However, his main work was the Caprarola palace (1555-1559), located about 30 meters from Rome, built for Cardinal Alessandro Farnese. The layout is pentagonal with a central circular courtyard, raised on a high terrace. The palace has two stories with rusticated corners on the wings, and it features both Doric and Ionic orders, layered to separate the arcades on the lower floors from the windows on the upper ones. The arcade of the central courtyard is beautifully proportioned and detailed, only surpassed by that of the Farnese palace.

Palladio in his earlier career measured and drew many of the remains of ancient Rome, and more particularly the thermae (the drawings of which are in the Burlington-Devonshire Collection), but he does not seem to have carried out any buildings there. His most important work, and the one which established his reputation, is that known as the basilica at Vicenza (1545-1549), which he enclosed with an arcaded loggia in two storeys of fine design and proportion, and extremely vigorous in its details. He built a large number of palaces in his native town, among which the Tiene (1550) and the Colleone Porto are the simplest and best, the latter being the model on which the front of Old Burlington House (London) was rebuilt in 1716. In the Valmarana, the Consiglio and the Casa del Diavolo he departed from his principles, in carrying the Corinthian pilasters through two floors, and by returning the cornice round the order he destroyed its value as a crowning feature. Among other works of his are the Chiericate (1560), Trissino (1582) and Barbarano (1570) palaces; the Olympic theatre (1580), which was completed after his death; and the Rotonda Capra near Vicenza, reproduced by Lord Burlington at Chiswick.

Palladio, in his early career, measured and sketched many of the ruins of ancient Rome, especially the thermae (the drawings of which are in the Burlington-Devonshire Collection), but he doesn’t seem to have constructed any buildings there. His most significant work, which established his reputation, is the basilica in Vicenza (1545-1549), which he surrounded with a two-story arcade featuring impressive design and proportion, with very bold details. He built many palaces in his hometown, including the Tiene (1550) and the Colleone Porto, which are the simplest and best; the latter served as the model for the front of Old Burlington House (London) rebuilt in 1716. In the Valmarana, the Consiglio, and the Casa del Diavolo, he strayed from his principles by extending the Corinthian pilasters over two floors and returning the cornice around the order, which diminished its value as a crowning feature. Other works of his include the Chiericate (1560), Trissino (1582), and Barbarano (1570) palaces; the Olympic theatre (1580), which was completed after his death; and the Rotonda Capra near Vicenza, replicated by Lord Burlington at Chiswick.

Though he laid down no rules for the guidance of others, the works of San Michele are superior to those of Palladio, with the exception, perhaps, of the basilica at Vicenza and the library at Venice. In the Bevilacqua palace (1527), at Verona, there is far greater variety of design than in Palladio’s work, and the Pompei palace (1530) and the two gateways at Verona (1533 and 1552) are all bold and simple designs. In the same town is an extremely beautiful example of the early Renaissance, the Loggia del Consiglio (1476) by Fra Giocondo; a similar example with open gallery on the ground storey exists at Padua, where there is also the Giustiniani palace (1524) by Falconetto, an interesting example of a master not much known. The town hall of Brescia (1492) was built from the designs of Tommaso Formentone, who employed for the carving of the medallions on the lower storey, and the pilasters with their capitals and the friezes, various artists of high merit, so that the building takes its rank as one of the finest in north Italy, but independently of their collaboration the design of the first floor is in design and execution equal to Greek work. The upper storey and its circular windows are said to have been added by Palladio, and they are so commonplace and out of scale that by contrast they increase the artistic value of Formentone’s work.

Though he didn't set any rules for others to follow, the works of San Michele are better than those of Palladio, except maybe for the basilica in Vicenza and the library in Venice. The Bevilacqua palace (1527) in Verona shows much more design variety than Palladio’s projects, and the Pompei palace (1530) along with the two gateways in Verona (1533 and 1552) all feature bold and simple designs. In the same town, there's a stunning example of early Renaissance architecture, the Loggia del Consiglio (1476) by Fra Giocondo; a similar structure with an open gallery on the ground level can be found in Padua, where you can also see the Giustiniani palace (1524) by Falconetto, an intriguing work by a lesser-known master. The town hall of Brescia (1492) was designed by Tommaso Formentone, who had several talented artists create the carvings on the medallions of the lower level, as well as the pilasters with their capitals and the friezes, making this building one of the finest in northern Italy. Despite the artists' collaborations, the design of the first floor matches the quality of Greek architecture. The upper level and its circular windows are said to have been added by Palladio, and their ordinary appearance and poor proportions actually enhance the artistic value of Formentone’s work.

The so-called Palazzo de’ Diamanti at Ferrara, built in 1493 for Sigismondo d’Este, is decorated externally with a peculiar kind of rustication, in which the square face of the stones is bevelled towards the centre in imitation of diamond facets: the quoins of the palace have panelled pilasters richly carved, and similar pilasters flank the entrance door; the windows, with simple architrave mouldings and cornices on ground storey and pediments on the first storey, constitute the only architectural features of a novel treatment.

The Palazzo de’ Diamanti in Ferrara, built in 1493 for Sigismondo d’Este, is uniquely decorated on the outside with a special type of rough stonework, where the square faces of the stones are angled toward the center to resemble diamond facets. The corners of the palace have intricately carved panelled pilasters, and matching pilasters frame the entrance door. The windows feature simple architrave mouldings and cornices on the ground floor, along with pediments on the first floor, making up the only architectural elements with a fresh design.

At Bologna there are two or three palaces of interest,—the Bevilacqua by Nardi (1484), chiefly remarkable for its central court surrounded with arcades, there being two arches on the upper storey to one on the lower, which presents a pleasant contrast and gives scale to the latter; the Fava palace (1484), in which on one side of the court are elaborately carved corbels carrying arches supporting an upper wall; and the Albergati palace (1521), by Peruzzi, in which the architectural decoration is confined to the entrance doorway windows flanked with pilasters and cornices in pediments and the entablatures of the ground and upper storeys, all the features being in stone on a background of simple brick construction. The Casa Tacconi is similarly treated. Many of the streets in Bologna have arcades on which the upper part of the house is built, and there is an endless variety in the capitals of these arcades.

At Bologna, there are two or three interesting palaces—Bevilacqua by Nardi (1484), which is mainly notable for its central courtyard surrounded by arcades, featuring two arches on the upper floor for every one on the ground level, creating a pleasing contrast and giving scale to the lower level; the Fava Palace (1484), where one side of the courtyard has intricately carved corbels holding arches that support an upper wall; and the Albergati Palace (1521) by Peruzzi, where the architectural decoration is limited to the entrance door, windows flanked by pilasters, cornices in pediments, and the entablatures of the ground and upper floors, all details crafted in stone against a simple brick background. The Casa Tacconi has a similar style. Many streets in Bologna feature arcades, with the upper part of the buildings constructed above them, showcasing an endless variety in the capitals of these arcades.

If the palaces of Genoa are disappointing as regards their external design, this is in some measure compensated for by the magnificence of their entrance vestibules, which (with the staircases and the arcades in the courts beyond) are built in white marble, and have probably suggested the title of the “marble palaces of Genoa.” Many of these palaces are situated in narrow streets, so that no general view can be obtained of them, which may account for their exterior being erected in inferior materials with stucco facing. The ground storey of the palaces is almost always raised about 6 to 8 ft. above the street level, 413 so that the first flight of steps leading up to the court forms a prominent feature in every palace; the ceilings of the entrance vestibule are also mostly decorated with arabesque work in stucco, or with painted devices, &c. The palaces in the town are lofty, and as a rule crowned with fine cornices, and there are no examples of pilasters being carried through the floors; the palaces and villas in the vicinity of Genoa are of less height, and owe much of their magnificence to the terraces on which they are erected. They have no special qualities except in slight variations of the external wall surface decoration, consisting of the applied orders on the several storeys. Among the best examples are the Palazzo Cataldi, formerly Palazzo Carega (1560), in which there are no pilasters, but rusticated quoins at the angles and windows with moulded dressings and pediments. The entrance vestibules of the Durazzo-Pallavicini, Rosso (1558) and Balbi (1610) palaces are in each case their finest features. The Pallavicini palace, and the Pallavicini, Spinola, Giustiniani and Durazzo villas, are all fairly well designed and in good proportions, but with no original treatment. Two of the palaces are flanked by open loggias with arcades, from which fine views are obtained, giving them a special character; that of the Durazzo palace being on the first floor, and of the Doria Tursi on the ground storey. The University (1623) and the Ducal palaces have very magnificent entrance vestibules, the former with lions on the lower ramp of the staircase.

If the palaces of Genoa are underwhelming in terms of their exterior design, this is somewhat balanced out by the stunning entrance vestibules, which (along with the staircases and arcades in the courtyards beyond) are made of white marble, possibly inspiring the term “marble palaces of Genoa.” Many of these palaces are located in narrow streets, making it difficult to get a general view of them, which might explain why their exteriors are often built from lower-quality materials with stucco finishes. The ground floor of the palaces is usually raised about 6 to 8 feet above street level, so the first flight of steps leading to the courtyard stands out prominently at each palace; the ceilings of the entrance vestibules are also often adorned with stucco arabesques or painted designs, etc. The town palaces are tall and typically topped with beautiful cornices, and there are no instances of pilasters extending through the floors; the palaces and villas around Genoa are shorter and owe much of their grandeur to the terraces they are built on. They don’t possess any unique qualities aside from slight variations in the decoration of the external wall surfaces, which feature different orders across the several stories. Among the best examples are the Palazzo Cataldi, previously known as Palazzo Carega (1560), which lacks pilasters but has rusticated quoins at the corners and windows with molded dressings and pediments. The entrance vestibules of the Durazzo-Pallavicini, Rosso (1558), and Balbi (1610) palaces are, in each case, their most impressive elements. The Pallavicini palace, along with the Pallavicini, Spinola, Giustiniani, and Durazzo villas, is reasonably well-designed and proportionate, though lacking original treatment. Two of the palaces are flanked by open loggias with arcades, providing lovely views and giving them a unique character; the loggia of the Durazzo palace is on the first floor, while that of the Doria Tursi is at ground level. The University (1623) and Ducal palaces feature very impressive entrance vestibules, with the former showcasing lions on the lower ramp of the staircase.

Many of the finest palaces at Genoa are by Galeazzo Alessi, but in none of them has he approached the design of the Marino or municipal palace at Milan, in which he produced a remarkable work; the internal courtyard surrounded with arcades carried on coupled columns is an original combination which is not excelled in any other court in Italy, and the exterior façades are very fine.

Many of the best palaces in Genoa were designed by Galeazzo Alessi, but none of them come close to the Marino or municipal palace in Milan, where he created an impressive work. The internal courtyard, surrounded by arcades resting on paired columns, is a unique combination that isn’t matched in any other courtyard in Italy, and the exterior façades are quite stunning.

The internal courtyard of the hospital at Milan (243 ft. by 220 ft.), with an arcade in two storeys, was designed by Bramante and begun in 1457; only one side was completed by him, but in 1621, in consequence of a large benefaction, the remainder was completed by Ricchini according to the original design; the proportions of the arcade are extremely pleasing, and it forms now one of the chief monuments of the town. Ricchini was the architect of the Litta palace, one of the largest in Milan.

The internal courtyard of the hospital in Milan (243 ft. by 220 ft.), featuring a two-story arcade, was designed by Bramante and started in 1457; he only finished one side, but in 1621, thanks to a significant donation, Ricchini completed the rest according to the original design. The proportions of the arcade are very pleasing, and it is now one of the main landmarks of the city. Ricchini was also the architect of the Litta palace, one of the largest in Milan.

There still remains to be mentioned one of the early examples of the Renaissance, the triumphal arch which was erected in 1470 at Naples to commemorate the entry of Alphonso of Aragon into the town. It is built against the walls of the old castle in four storeys, and connected with bas-reliefs and statues. The largest palace in Italy, that of the Caserta at Naples, with a frontage of 766 ft., built in 1752 by Vanvitelli, is one of the most monotonous designs, rivalled in that respect only by the Escurial in Spain.

There’s still one early example of the Renaissance to mention: the triumphal arch constructed in 1470 in Naples to celebrate Alphonso of Aragon's entry into the city. It’s built against the walls of the old castle and has four stories, complete with bas-reliefs and statues. The largest palace in Italy, the Caserta in Naples, which has a frontage of 766 ft., was built in 1752 by Vanvitelli and is considered one of the most monotonous designs, matched only by the Escurial in Spain in that regard.

(R. P. S.)

Renaissance Architecture in France

French Renaissance Architecture

The classical revival of the 15th century in Italy was too important a movement to have remained long without its influence extending to other countries. In France this was accelerated by the campaigns of Charles VIII., Louis XII. and Francis I., which led to the revelation of the artistic treasures in Italy; the result being the importation of great numbers of Italian craftsmen, who would seem to have been employed in the carving of decorative architectural accessories, such as the panels and capitals of pilasters, niches and canopies, corbels, friezes, &c., either in tombs, as for instance in those of Charles of Anjou at Le Mans (1472) and at Solesmes (1498), of Francis, duke of Brittany (1501), and of the children of Charles VIII. (1506) at Tours, and of Cardinal d’Amboise in Rouen cathedral, the figures in all these cases being carved by French sculptors. They were also employed in architectural buildings, where the design and execution were by French master-masons, and the Italians were called in to carve the details, as in the choir screens of Chartres, Albi and Limoges cathedrals, the portal of St. Michel at Dijon, the eastern chapels of St Pierre at Caen, and numerous other churches throughout France; or for mansions like the Hôtel d’Alluye at Blois, the Hôtel d’Allemand at Bourges, and the châteaux of Meillant (1503), Châteaudun and Nantouillet (1519). The great centre of the artistic regeneration was at first at Tours, so that in Touraine, and generally on the borders of the Loire and the Cher at Amboise, Blois, Gaillon, Chenonceaux, Azay-le-Rideau and Chambord, are found the principal examples; later, Francis I. transferred the court to Paris, and the château of Madrid, and the palaces of Fontainebleau, St Germain-en-Laye, and the Louvre, follow the change. In all these châteaux the Italian craftsman would seem to have been under the direction of the master-mason or architect, because the whole scheme of the design and its execution is French, and only the decoration Italian. In cases where the Italian was not called in, the Gothic flamboyant style flourishes in full vigour with no suggestion of foreign influence, as in the palais de justice at Rouen, the church of Brou (Ain), 1505-1532, the Hôtel de Cluny, Paris, and the rood-screen of the church of the Madeleine at Troyes (1531).

The classical revival of the 15th century in Italy was such an important movement that it quickly influenced other countries. In France, this was sped up by the campaigns of Charles VIII, Louis XII, and Francis I, which revealed Italy's artistic treasures. As a result, many Italian craftsmen were brought in, primarily to carve decorative architectural elements like panels and capitals of pilasters, niches and canopies, corbels, friezes, and so on. This included work on tombs, such as those of Charles of Anjou at Le Mans (1472) and at Solesmes (1498), Francis, Duke of Brittany (1501), the children of Charles VIII (1506) at Tours, and Cardinal d’Amboise in Rouen Cathedral, with the figures in all these instances being carved by French sculptors. They also worked on architectural projects where French master-masons handled the design and execution while Italians carved the details. Examples can be found in the choir screens of the cathedrals at Chartres, Albi, and Limoges, the portal of St. Michel at Dijon, the eastern chapels of St. Pierre at Caen, and in many churches across France; as well as in mansions like the Hôtel d’Alluye at Blois, the Hôtel d’Allemand at Bourges, and the châteaux of Meillant (1503), Châteaudun, and Nantouillet (1519). Initially, Tours was the main center of artistic revival, so in Touraine and along the Loire and the Cher in places like Amboise, Blois, Gaillon, Chenonceaux, Azay-le-Rideau, and Chambord, you can find the key examples. Later on, Francis I moved the court to Paris, leading to the construction of the château of Madrid and the palaces of Fontainebleau, St Germain-en-Laye, and the Louvre, which followed suit. In all these châteaux, it seems that the Italian craftsmen worked under the guidance of the master-mason or architect, since the entire design and its execution were French, while the decoration was Italian. In cases where Italians weren't involved, the Gothic flamboyant style thrived robustly with no signs of foreign influence, as seen in the palais de justice at Rouen, the church of Brou (Ain), 1505-1532, the Hôtel de Cluny in Paris, and the rood-screen of the church of the Madeleine at Troyes (1531).

Between the last phase of Flamboyant Gothic and the introduction of the pure Italian Revival there existed a transitional period, known generally as the “Francis I. style,” which may be subdivided under three heads:—the Valois period, comprising the reigns of Charles VIII. and Louis XII. (1483-1515); the Francis I. period (1515-1547); and the Henry II. and Catherine de’ Medici period (1547-1589). The first two are characterized by the lofty roofs, dormers and chimneys, by circular or square towers at the angles of the main building with decorative machicolations and hourds, by buttresses set anglewise, which run up into the cornice, and square-headed windows with mullions and transoms. In the second period the machicolations are converted into corbels carrying semicircular arcaded niches in which shells are carved; the buttresses become pilasters with Renaissance capitals; and the Gothic detail, which in the first period is mixed up with the Renaissance, disappears altogether. In the third period Italian design begins to exert its influence in the regular interspacing of the pilasters or columns with due proportion of height to diameter, in the completion of the order with the regular entablature, and its employment generally in a more structural manner than in the earlier work.

Between the final phase of Flamboyant Gothic and the start of the pure Italian Revival, there was a transitional period commonly referred to as the "Francis I style." This can be divided into three parts: the Valois period, which includes the reigns of Charles VIII and Louis XII (1483-1515); the Francis I period (1515-1547); and the Henry II and Catherine de’ Medici period (1547-1589). The first two periods are marked by tall roofs, dormers, and chimneys, as well as circular or square towers at the corners of the main building featuring decorative machicolations and hourds, angled buttresses that extend up into the cornice, and square-headed windows with mullions and transoms. In the second period, the machicolations are transformed into corbels that support semicircular arcaded niches adorned with carved shells; the buttresses turn into pilasters with Renaissance capitals; and the Gothic details that mixed with Renaissance elements in the first period completely disappear. In the third period, Italian design starts to have an impact, evident in the uniform spacing of the pilasters or columns with the correct height-to-diameter ratio, the completion of the order with a consistent entablature, and a more structural use overall compared to earlier work.

The two first periods are well represented in the château of Blois, where, in the east wing built by Louis XII., square-headed windows alternate with three central arches, the buttresses are set anglewise running into the cornice, and pillars and angle shafts are carved with chevrons, spiral flirtings, or cinque-cento arabesque; the cornices of the towers containing staircases project and are carried on arched niches supported on corbels (the new interpretation of the machicolations of the feudal castle); above the cornice is a balustrade with pierced flamboyant tracery, and the dormer windows retain their Gothic detail. In the north wing of Francis I. all these Gothic ornamental details disappear, and are replaced by the Renaissance. Panels and pilasters take the place of the buttresses—the panels sometimes enriched with cinque-cento arabesque; shells are carved in the arched niches of the cornice, and modillions and dentil courses are introduced; the balustrade is pierced with flowing Renaissance foliage interspersed with the salamanders and coronets; the same high roofs are maintained, but the dormer windows and chimneys, still Gothic in design, are entirely clothed with Renaissance detail.

The first two periods are well represented in the Château of Blois, where, in the east wing built by Louis XII, square-headed windows alternate with three central arches, the buttresses are angled into the cornice, and the pillars and corner shafts are decorated with chevrons, spiral flirtings, or sixteenth-century arabesques; the cornices of the towers containing staircases protrude and are supported by arched niches on corbels (a new take on the machicolations of feudal castles); above the cornice is a balustrade with pierced flamboyant tracery, and the dormer windows keep their Gothic detail. In the north wing of Francis I, all these Gothic decorative details vanish, replaced by the Renaissance style. Panels and pilasters replace the buttresses—the panels sometimes enhanced with sixteenth-century arabesques; shells are carved in the arched niches of the cornice, and modillions and dentil courses are added; the balustrade features flowing Renaissance foliage mixed with salamanders and coronets; the same high roofs are kept, but the dormer windows and chimneys, still designed in Gothic style, are completely dressed with Renaissance detail.

The finest feature of the façade of this north wing, facing the court, is the magnificent polygonal staircase tower in its centre (Plate VIII., fig. 84); four great piers rise from ground to cornice, between which the rising balustrade is fitted; the whole feature Gothic in design, but Renaissance in all its details. The splendid carving of the panels of the piers and the niches with their canopies was probably done by Italian artists. The figures in these niches are said to be by Jean Goujon. The great dormers and chimneys have not the refinement in their design which characterizes the lower portion, and may be of later date. The north front of the château is raised on the foundation walls of the old castle, part of which is encased in it, and this may account for the slight irregularities in the widths of the bays. The design differs from that of the south front, the windows all being recessed behind three-centre arched openings; the open loggia at the top, which is admirable in effect, is a subsequent alteration.

The best feature of the north wing's façade, which faces the courtyard, is the stunning polygonal staircase tower in the center (Plate VIII., fig. 84). Four large piers rise from the ground to the cornice, between which the balustrade ascends; the entire structure has a Gothic design but Renaissance details. The intricate carving of the pier panels and the niches with their canopies was likely done by Italian artists. The figures in these niches are said to be by Jean Goujon. The large dormers and chimneys lack the refinement seen in the lower section and may have been added later. The north front of the château is built on the foundation walls of the old castle, parts of which are encased within it, which could explain the slight irregularities in the widths of the bays. The design is different from the south front, with windows set back behind three-centre arched openings; the open loggia at the top, which is remarkable in appearance, is a later addition.

Before passing to the Louvre and Tuileries, representing the third period, we must refer to some other important early châteaux and buildings. Some of these, such as the châteaux of Madrid and Gaillon, are known chiefly from du Cerceau’s work, as they were destroyed at the Revolution. Of the latter building, the entrance gateway is still in situ; there are some portions in the court of the École des Beaux-Arts at Paris, consisting of a second entrance gateway, a portico and some large panels. The gateway shows a singular mixture of Gothic and Renaissance; the centre portion, with the gateway and great niche over, is debased classic, the side portions retaining the buttresses, mouldings, panels and other features belonging to the latest phase of Flamboyant Gothic.

Before moving on to the Louvre and Tuileries, which represent the third period, we need to mention some other significant early châteaux and buildings. Some of these, like the châteaux of Madrid and Gaillon, are mainly known from du Cerceau’s work since they were destroyed during the Revolution. For Gaillon, the entrance gateway is still in situ; there are some parts located in the courtyard of the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, including a second entrance gateway, a portico, and some large panels. The gateway displays a unique blend of Gothic and Renaissance styles; the center section, featuring the gateway and the large niche above, reflects a simplified classical design, while the side sections still show the buttresses, moldings, panels, and other characteristics typical of the latest phase of Flamboyant Gothic.

Of buildings still existing, the hôtel de ville of Orleans (1497) is a good example of early transition work, in which Gothic and Renaissance work is intermingled, and it is interesting to compare it with the hôtel de ville at Beaugency, built by the same architect, Viart, some twenty-five years later. There is the same principle in design, much improved in the later example, but all the Gothic details have disappeared.

Of the buildings that still stand, the town hall of Orleans (1497) is a great example of early transition work, where Gothic and Renaissance styles are mixed. It's interesting to compare it with the town hall at Beaugency, built by the same architect, Viart, about twenty-five years later. The design follows the same principles, but the later example shows significant improvements, although all the Gothic details are gone.

In the château of Chenonceaux (1515-1524) we find a compromise between the two styles; Gothic corbels, piers and three-centre arches are employed, varied with debased classic mouldings, shells and capitals; here, as at Azay-le-Rideau (1520), the château was 414 not transformed like those at Langeais and Rochefoucauld, where what was externally a 14th-century castle developed internally into a 16th-century mansion; both Chenonceaux and Azay-le-Rideau were built as residences, and yet in both are displayed those features which belong to the fortified castle; at the angles of the main structure in both cases are circular towers, in the latter case crowned with machicolations and hourds, which, however, are purely decorative, pierced with windows, and broken at intervals with dormer windows, a feature which gives it the aspect of an attic storey. The lofty roofs and conical terminations to these angle towers, with dormer and chimney, give the same picturesque aspect to the grouping as that which was afforded in the fortified castle, where, however, they originated in the necessity for defence. The entrance portals of both chateaux are beautiful features, absolutely Gothic in design, and only transformed by cinque-cento detail.

In the château of Chenonceaux (1515-1524), there's a blend of the two styles; Gothic corbels, piers, and three-centre arches are used, mixed with simpler classic moldings, shells, and capitals. Similar to Azay-le-Rideau (1520), the château wasn't altered like those at Langeais and Rochefoucauld, where a 14th-century castle turned into a 16th-century mansion inside. Both Chenonceaux and Azay-le-Rideau were built as homes, yet they also show characteristics of fortified castles. Both have circular towers at the corners of the main structure, and in the case of Azay-le-Rideau, these towers are topped with decorative machicolations and hourds, which are simply for show, featuring windows and interspersed with dormer windows that give it an attic-like look. The tall roofs and conical tops of these corner towers, along with the dormers and chimneys, provide the same picturesque appearance as that of fortified castles, where these features were originally necessary for defense. The entrance gates of both châteaux are stunning features, entirely Gothic in style, but only modified with some Renaissance details.

In the château of Chambord (1526) we find the same defensive features introduced, in the shape of great circular towers at the angles, but here with more reason, as the chateau was intended more for display than habitation. The chateau itself, about 200 ft. square, has circular towers at the angles, and in the centre a spiral staircase with double flight, leading to great halls on each side, which give access to the comparatively small rooms in the angles of the square and the towers beyond, and to the roof, which would seem to have been the chief attraction, as there is a fine view therefrom; and the elaborate octagonal lantern over the staircase, the dormer windows, chimneys and lanterns on the conical roofs of the towers, are all elaborately carved. There are three storeys to the building, subdivided horizontally by string courses, and terminated with a fine cornice carrying a balustrade, and vertically by a series of pilasters of the Corinthian order. The varied outline of this building, with the alternation of blank panels and windows between the pilasters, relieves what might otherwise have been its monotony. The château is situated on the east side of a great court measuring about 500 ft. by 370 ft., with a moat all round. To the right and left of the central block the walls are carved up three storeys, and an attic, with open arcades inside, leading to the angle towers of the enclosure. At a later period Louis XIV. continued the unfinished structure by a one-storey building round. The carving of the capitals, corbels and other decorative work was all done by Italian artists, under the direction of some architect whose name is not known.

In the château of Chambord (1526), we see the same defensive features with large circular towers at the corners, but they make more sense here since the château was meant more for show than for living in. The château itself is about 200 ft. square, with those circular towers at the corners and a spiral staircase in the center with a double flight, leading to grand halls on either side. These halls connect to the relatively small rooms in the corners of the square and the towers beyond, as well as to the roof, which seems to be the main draw since it offers a great view. The detailed octagonal lantern above the staircase, the dormer windows, chimneys, and lanterns on the conical roofs of the towers are all beautifully carved. The building has three stories, divided horizontally by string courses, topped with a fine cornice featuring a balustrade, and vertically accented by a series of Corinthian pilasters. The varied lines of this building, with the mix of blank panels and windows between the pilasters, break up what could have been a monotonous design. The château sits on the east side of a large courtyard that measures about 500 ft. by 370 ft., surrounded by a moat. To the right and left of the central block, the walls rise three stories plus an attic, with open arcades inside leading to the angle towers of the enclosure. Later, Louis XIV continued the incomplete structure by adding a single-story building around it. The detailed carving of the capitals, corbels, and other decorative work was all done by Italian artists under the guidance of an unknown architect.

One of the gems of Francis I.’s work is the small hunting lodge originally built at Moret near Fontainebleau, to which at one time the king thought of adding, before he began his great palace there. This was taken down in 1826, and re-erected in the Cours-la-Reine at Paris. Though small, it is the purest example of the first Renaissance. Other examples are the hôtel de ville of Paray-le-Monial (1526); the Hôtel d’Anjou at Angers (1530), built by Pierre de Pincé; the Hôtel Bernuy at Toulouse (1530); the Hôtel d’Ecoville at Caen (1532); the Manoir of Francis I. at Orleans; the Hotel Bourgthéroulde at Rouen (1520-1532) and other buildings opposite Rouen cathedral, and what remains of the château known as the Manoir d’Ango (1525) at Varengeville, near Dieppe. The château of St Germain-en-Laye (1539-1544), the upper half of which is built in brick, belongs also to the early period, as also the hôtel de ville at Paris, built in 1533 by Domenico da Cortona, an Italian, who after spending some thirty years in France would seem to have caught the spirit of the French Renaissance so well as to be able to produce one of the most remarkable examples of the Francis I. style. In the existing building the original design has been copied from the building burnt down by the Communists in 1871.

One of the highlights of Francis I’s work is the small hunting lodge originally built at Moret near Fontainebleau, which the king once considered expanding before starting his grand palace there. This lodge was dismantled in 1826 and rebuilt in the Cours-la-Reine in Paris. Although it's small, it's the best example of the early Renaissance. Other examples include the town hall of Paray-le-Monial (1526); the Hôtel d’Anjou in Angers (1530), built by Pierre de Pincé; the Hôtel Bernuy in Toulouse (1530); the Hôtel d’Ecoville in Caen (1532); the Manoir of Francis I in Orleans; the Hotel Bourgthéroulde in Rouen (1520-1532) and other buildings across from Rouen cathedral, as well as what remains of the château known as the Manoir d’Ango (1525) at Varengeville, near Dieppe. The château of St Germain-en-Laye (1539-1544), which has its upper half built in brick, also belongs to this early period, along with the town hall in Paris, constructed in 1533 by Domenico da Cortona, an Italian who spent about thirty years in France and seemed to have captured the essence of the French Renaissance well enough to create one of the most notable examples of the Francis I style. In the existing building, the original design has been replicated from the structure that was burned down by the Communists in 1871.

From this we pass to the palace at Fontainebleau, begun by Francis I. in 1526, to which there have been so many subsequent additions and alterations that it is difficult to differentiate between them. The building owes its picturesque effect more to its irregular plan (as portions of an earlier structure were enclosed in it) than to any brilliant conceptions on the part of its architect. There is an endless variety of charming detail in the capitals, corbels and other decorative features, but the employment of pilaster strips purely as decorative features (without any such structural property as that in the Porte Dorée at the Cour Ovale) suggests that the Italian architect Serlio, to whom sometimes the work is ascribed, certainly had nothing to do with it.

From this we move on to the palace at Fontainebleau, started by Francis I in 1526. There have been so many additions and changes made since then that it's hard to tell them apart. The building looks picturesque more because of its irregular shape (since parts of an older structure were included) than due to any brilliant ideas from its architect. There’s a wide variety of charming details in the capitals, corbels, and other decorative elements, but the use of pilaster strips purely for decoration (without any structural purpose like in the Porte Dorée at the Cour Ovale) suggests that the Italian architect Serlio, to whom the work is sometimes credited, definitely had nothing to do with it.

On the other hand, there is every reason to believe that the designs made by Pierre Lescot for the Louvre, begun in 1546, were, as regards their style, largely based on the principles set forth in Serlio’s work on architecture, published in 1540. The south-west angle of the court of the Louvre is the earliest example of the third period of the Renaissance, in which the orders are employed in correct proportions with columns or pedestals carrying entablatures with mouldings based on classic precedent. The portion built from Lescot’s designs (Plate VIII., fig. 83) consists of the nine bays on the east and north sides, the latter not being completed till 1574, as the workmen would seem to have been transferred to the building of the Tuileries, begun in 1564.

On the other hand, there’s every reason to believe that the designs created by Pierre Lescot for the Louvre, which started in 1546, were largely influenced by the principles outlined in Serlio’s architectural work published in 1540. The south-west corner of the Louvre courtyard is the earliest example of the third period of the Renaissance, where the architectural orders are used in proper proportions, featuring columns or pedestals that support entablatures with moldings based on classical standards. The section built from Lescot’s designs (Plate VIII., fig. 83) includes the nine bays on the east and north sides, with the latter not being finished until 1574, as it seems the workers were reassigned to the construction of the Tuileries, which began in 1564.

The Corinthian order is employed for the ground and first storeys and an attic storey above, in which the pilaster capitals run into the bedmold of the upper cornice. Of the nine bays, the central and side bays are twice the width of the others, and project slightly with the cornices breaking round them; this feature, and the crowning of the western bays with a segmental pediment, give a variety to the design, which otherwise might have become monotonous by its repetition of similar features. The balustrade also is replaced by the chêneau, a cresting in stone, which hereafter is found in nearly all French buildings. The sculptor, Jean Goujon, would seem to have worked in complete harmony with the architect, thus producing what will always be considered as one of the chef-d’œuvres of French architecture.

The Corinthian style is used for the ground and first floors, along with an attic level above, where the pilaster capitals connect to the bedmold of the upper cornice. Out of the nine bays, the central and side bays are twice as wide as the others and project slightly with the cornices wrapping around them; this detail, along with the segmental pediment crowning the western bays, adds variety to the design, which might have otherwise become dull with its repetitive features. The balustrade is also replaced by the chêneau, a stone cresting that later appears in almost all French buildings. The sculptor, Jean Goujon, seems to have collaborated perfectly with the architect, resulting in what will always be regarded as one of the chef-d’œuvres of French architecture.

The architect employed by Catherine de’ Medici for the Tuileries was Philibert de l’Orme, who combined the taste of the architect with the scientific knowledge of the engineer. Only a portion of his design was carried out, and of that much disappeared in the 17th century, when his dormer windows were taken down and replaced by a second storey and an attic. Bullant and du Cerceau also added buildings on each side.

The architect hired by Catherine de’ Medici for the Tuileries was Philibert de l’Orme, who blended the aesthetic sensibilities of an architect with the technical expertise of an engineer. Only part of his design was actually built, and much of what remained was lost in the 17th century when his dormer windows were removed and replaced with a second floor and an attic. Bullant and du Cerceau also constructed buildings on either side.

The Tuileries were built about 500 yds. from the Louvre, and Catherine de’ Medici conceived the idea of connecting the two. The work, which began with the “Petite Galerie,” with the south wing, as far as the Pavilion Lesdiguieres, was started in 1566, being of one storey only. The mezzanine and upper storey were not completed till the beginning of the 17th century. In 1603 the remainder of the south front and the Pavillon-de-Flore were completed by Jacques Androuet du Cerceau.

The Tuileries were built about 500 yards from the Louvre, and Catherine de' Medici came up with the idea to connect the two. The project, which started with the "Petite Galerie" and the south wing up to the Pavilion Lesdiguieres, began in 1566 and was only one story high at first. The mezzanine and upper floors weren’t finished until the early 17th century. In 1603, Jacques Androuet du Cerceau completed the rest of the south front and the Pavillon-de-Flore.

Of Philibert de l’Orme’s work at Anet (1549), only the entrance gateway, the left-hand side of court, and the chapel remain, sufficient, however, to show that he had already at that early date mastered the principles of the Italian Revivalists. The chapel is in its way a remarkable design, but the hemispherical dome, pierced by elliptical winding arches inside, is not happy in its effect. The frontispiece which he created opposite the entrance, now in the court of the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, shows great refinement in its details, but proportionally errs in many points. De l’Orme built also the bridge and gallery on the river Cher, forming an addition to the château of Chenonceaux.

Of Philibert de l’Orme’s work at Anet (1549), only the entrance gateway, the left side of the courtyard, and the chapel remain. However, these are enough to show that he had already mastered the principles of the Italian Revivalists at such an early date. The chapel is a remarkable design in its own right, but the hemispherical dome, which has elliptical winding arches inside, doesn’t create a pleasing effect. The frontispiece he created across from the entrance, now in the courtyard of the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, displays great refinement in its details, but has several proportional errors. De l’Orme also built the bridge and gallery over the river Cher, adding to the château of Chenonceaux.

Amongst other work of this period are the additions made by Bullant to the château de Chantilly, where he traversed the principles of classic design by running Corinthian pilasters through two storeys and cutting through the cornice of his dormer windows. At Écouen (1550) he destroyed the scale of the earlier buildings of 1532 by raising in front of the left wing of the court four lofty Corinthian columns with entablature complete, which he copied from the temple of Castor in Rome.

Among the other work from this time are the changes made by Bullant to the château de Chantilly, where he reinterpreted classic design by extending Corinthian pilasters over two stories and altering the cornice of his dormer windows. At Écouen (1550), he overwhelmed the proportions of the earlier buildings from 1532 by putting up four tall Corinthian columns with a complete entablature in front of the left wing of the courtyard, which he adapted from the temple of Castor in Rome.

Among the early Renaissance work are the chateau of Ancy le Franc (Yonne), Italian in character, which may be by Serlio (1546); the Hôtel d’Assézat at Toulouse (1555), in which there is a strong resemblance to the court of the Louvre; the houses at Orleans, known as those of Agnes Sorel, Jeanne d’Arc and Diane de Poitiers (1552); and there is other work at Caen, Rouen, Toulouse, Dijon, Chinon, Périgueux, Cahors, Rodez, Beauvais and Amiens, dating up to the close of the 16th century. In this list might also be included the fine town hall of La Rochelle, the Hôtel Lamoignon in the rue des Francs-Bourgeois, Paris (1580), and the Hôtel de Vogüé at Dijon, which retained the Renaissance character, though built in the first year of the 17th century.

Among the early Renaissance works are the chateau of Ancy le Franc (Yonne), which has an Italian style and may be attributed to Serlio (1546); the Hôtel d’Assézat in Toulouse (1555), which closely resembles the court of the Louvre; the houses in Orleans, known as those of Agnes Sorel, Jeanne d’Arc, and Diane de Poitiers (1552); and other works in Caen, Rouen, Toulouse, Dijon, Chinon, Périgueux, Cahors, Rodez, Beauvais, and Amiens, dating up to the end of the 16th century. This list also includes the impressive town hall of La Rochelle, the Hôtel Lamoignon on rue des Francs-Bourgeois in Paris (1580), and the Hôtel de Vogüé in Dijon, which kept its Renaissance style even though it was built in the first year of the 17th century.

In the reigns of Henry IV. and Louis XIII. the first work of importance in Paris is that of the Place Royale, now the Place des Vosges; in this brick was largely employed, and the conjunction of brick and stone gave a decorative effect which dispensed with the necessity of employing the Classic orders. At Fontainebleau, where Henry IV. made large additions, the same mixture of brick and stone is found in the Galerie des Cerfs, and in the great service court (cour des cuisines). The example set was followed largely through the country, and numerous mansions and private houses in brick and stone still exist. Henry IV.’s most important work at Fontainebleau is the Porte Dauphine, of which the lower part, with rusticated columns and courses of masonry, does not quite accord in scale or character with the superstructure, in which is put some of the best work of the century.

During the reigns of Henry IV and Louis XIII, the first major project in Paris was the Place Royale, now known as the Place des Vosges. This project made extensive use of brick, and the combination of brick and stone created a decorative effect that eliminated the need for using Classic orders. At Fontainebleau, where Henry IV expanded considerably, the same blend of brick and stone can be seen in the Galerie des Cerfs and in the large service court (cour des cuisines). This approach was widely adopted across the country, and many mansions and private homes made of brick and stone still exist. Henry IV's most significant work at Fontainebleau is the Porte Dauphine, where the lower part, featuring rustic columns and masonry courses, doesn't quite match the scale or style of the upper structure, which includes some of the best craftsmanship of the century.

Except perhaps for the monotony of the rusticated masonry which is spread all over the building, the palace of the Luxembourg, by Salomon de Brosse (1615), is an important work, in which he was probably instructed by Marie de’ Medici to reproduce the general effect of the Pitti palace at Florence. The three storeys of the main block are well proportioned, but the absence of a boldly projecting cornice, such as is found in the Riccardi and Strozzi palaces, is a defect; the same architect reconstructed the great hall of the palace of justice at Paris, burnt in 1871 but now rebuilt to the same design.

Except maybe for the dullness of the rough stonework that covers the entire building, the Luxembourg Palace, designed by Salomon de Brosse in 1615, is a significant piece of architecture. He was likely directed by Marie de' Medici to replicate the overall look of the Pitti Palace in Florence. The three floors of the main section are well-proportioned, but the lack of a prominently jutting cornice, like the ones seen in the Riccardi and Strozzi palaces, is a downside. The same architect also rebuilt the grand hall of the Palace of Justice in Paris, which was burned in 1871 but has now been reconstructed to the same design.

In 1629 the building subsequently known as the Palais Royal was begun from the designs of Lemercier; but it has been so materially altered since that scarcely anything remains of his design, though the works carried out from his designs at the Louvre were of the greatest possible importance. The court of the latter, as begun by Pierre Lescot, was of small dimensions, corresponding with that of the palace of Philip Augustus, but Lemercier proposed to quadruple its dimensions. It is not certain whether he built the lower portion of the Pavilion d’Horloge, but he designed the upper part, with the caryatid figures sculptured by Jacques Sarrazin. On the north side of this pavilion he built a wing similar in length and design to that of Pierre Lescot, and continued the wing along the north side to the centre pavilion; this was continued by Levau, the architect of Louis XIV., round the other sides of the court. His design for the 415 east front, however, did not recommend itself to the king or to his minister Colbert, and a competition was held, the first place being given to the design by a physician, Dr Perrault. Prior to its being begun, however, Bernini was sent for, and he submitted other designs, fortunately not carried out, as they would have destroyed the court of the Louvre. In 1665 the works were begun on the design of Perrault, a grandiose frontispiece which appealed to Louis XIV., but in which no cognizance had been taken of the various rooms against which it was built; consequently no windows could be opened, and it forms now a useless peristyle. Moreover it was so much wider than the original building that on the north side it became necessary to add a new front. Fortunately the example set by Perrault of coupling columns together has rarely been followed since in France, so that in the Garde-Meuble on the south side of the Place de la Concorde, by Gabriel, we return again to the original classic peristyle. The works undertaken at the Louvre progressed but slowly, in consequence of the greater interest taken by Louis XIV. in the palace he was building at Versailles, an extension of the hunting-box built by his father Louis XIII., which he insisted should be maintained and incorporated as the central feature in the new building. But as it was comparatively small in dimensions, of simple design, and in brick and stone, it was quite unfit to become the central feature of the main front of the largest palace in Europe. To make it worse, the new wings built on either side were lofty and of more importance architecturally, and as they projected some 300 ft. in advance of the earlier building, they reduced it to still greater insignificance. But even then the architect, Jules Hardouin Mansart, might have redeemed his reputation by buildings of greater interest than those which now exist. The back elevation of the central block is 330 ft. wide, the returns 280 ft., and the length of the wings on each side 500 ft.; in other words he had nearly 1900 ft. run of façade, and it is simply a repetition of the same bays from one end to the other, in three storeys all of the same height, the lower one with semicircular arched openings, the first floor decorated with pilasters on columns of the Ionic order, and an attic storey above with balustrade. The slight projection given to the central and side bays of each block, just sufficient to allow of columns in the first floor as decorative features instead of pilasters, is of no value in fronts of such great dimensions. The great galleries inside have the same monotonous design as in the façades, relieved only by the rich decoration in the first case and the splendid masonry in the latter. There is one saving clause in the main front, the chapel by R. de Cotte on the right-hand side being externally and internally a fine structure, and the best ecclesiastical example of the period.

In 1629, construction began on what is now known as the Palais Royal, following designs by Lemercier. However, it has changed so much since then that hardly anything remains of his original concept, even though his work at the Louvre was extremely significant. The early courtyard, which was started by Pierre Lescot, was relatively small, matching the size of Philip Augustus's palace, but Lemercier aimed to increase its size fourfold. It’s unclear if he constructed the lower part of the Pavilion d’Horloge, but he did design the upper section, featuring caryatid figures sculpted by Jacques Sarrazin. On the north side of this pavilion, he built a wing similar in length and style to Lescot's work, extending the wing along the north side to the central pavilion; Levau, Louis XIV's architect, then continued this around the other sides of the courtyard. However, his design for the 415 east front didn’t appeal to the king or his minister Colbert, leading to a competition, which was won by physician Dr. Perrault’s design. Before the work began, Bernini was called in to propose new designs, but luckily they were not executed, as they would have ruined the courtyard of the Louvre. In 1665, work commenced on Perrault's grand frontispiece, which impressed Louis XIV, but did not consider the various rooms it would be built against, resulting in no windows being able to open and creating a useless peristyle. Moreover, it was so much wider than the original structure that a new front had to be added on the north side. Fortunately, Perrault's idea of pairing columns has rarely been replicated in France since, allowing for a return to the classic original peristyle in the Garde-Meuble by Gabriel on the south side of Place de la Concorde. Progress at the Louvre was slow because Louis XIV was more focused on the palace he was building at Versailles, which was an expansion of the hunting lodge constructed by his father Louis XIII. He insisted that it be maintained as the centerpiece of the new building. Given that it was small, simply designed, and made of brick and stone, it was unsuitable to serve as the main feature of the largest palace in Europe. To make matters worse, the new wings built on either side were tall and architecturally significant, projecting about 300 ft. out from the earlier structure, further diminishing its importance. Even then, architect Jules Hardouin Mansart could have redeemed his reputation with more appealing designs than those that currently exist. The back of the central block measures 330 ft. wide, with returns of 280 ft., and each wing is 500 ft. long; in total, he had nearly 1900 ft. of façade, which is just a repetition of the same bays from one end to the other, across three stories of uniform height. The ground level features semicircular arched openings, and the first floor is embellished with pilasters on Ionic columns, topped by an attic story with a balustrade. The slight projection of the central and side bays allows for the introduction of columns on the first floor as decorative elements instead of pilasters, but this offers little value given the great scale. The grand galleries inside maintain the same monotonous design as the façades, with relief only provided by the rich decorations in the former and the splendid masonry in the latter. There is one redeeming feature on the main front: the chapel designed by R. de Cotte on the right-hand side, which is an impressive structure both inside and out, and stands as the best ecclesiastical example from that period.

Among other buildings of the 17th century are those begun by Cardinal Mazarin in the rue de Richelieu, which now constitute the National library; the Hôtel de Toulouse (1626), now the Bank of France; the Hôtel de Sully (1630), by du Cerceau; the Hôtel de Beauvais (1654), by le Pautre; the Hôtel Lambert (also by le Pautre), in the Île St Louis; the château at Maisons, near St Germain-en-Laye, by François Mansart (1656); the Institute of France (1662), by Levau; two triumphal arches, of St Denis (1672), by Blondel, and St Martin (1674) by Bullet; the Hôtel des Invalides (1670), by Bruant; the Place des Victoires and the Place Vendôme (1695-1699), by Jules Hardouin Mansart, in which a series of large houses are grouped together in one design; the Trianon at Versailles (1676), and the château of Marly (1682), both by J.H. Mansart; and important monumental buildings in the principal provincial cities, such as Lyons, Bordeaux, Nantes and Tours.

Among other buildings from the 17th century are those started by Cardinal Mazarin on the rue de Richelieu, which now make up the National Library; the Hôtel de Toulouse (1626), now the Bank of France; the Hôtel de Sully (1630), by du Cerceau; the Hôtel de Beauvais (1654), by le Pautre; the Hôtel Lambert (also by le Pautre), located in Île St Louis; the château at Maisons, near St Germain-en-Laye, by François Mansart (1656); the Institute of France (1662), by Levau; two triumphal arches, of St Denis (1672), by Blondel, and St Martin (1674) by Bullet; the Hôtel des Invalides (1670), by Bruant; the Place des Victoires and the Place Vendôme (1695-1699), by Jules Hardouin Mansart, where a series of large houses are grouped together in one design; the Trianon at Versailles (1676), and the château of Marly (1682), both by J.H. Mansart; along with significant monumental buildings in the major provincial cities like Lyons, Bordeaux, Nantes, and Tours.

In the 18th century those which are worthy of note are the Hôtel Soubise (1706), now the “Archives Nationales”; the fountain in the rue de Crenelle, a fine composition; the École Militaire (1752), by Gabriel; the Êcole de Médecine (1769), by Gondouin; the mint (1772), by Antoine; the Place de la Concorde, with the Garde-Meuble, by Gabriel (1765); the Hôtel de Salm, now the Legion of Honour; the Place Stanislas at Nancy (1738-1766), in which are grouped the town hall, archbishop’s palace, theatre and other public buildings, with triumphal arch and avenues leading to the palace of the duke Stanislaus (with magnificent wrought-iron enclosures and gates by Jean Lamour, the greatest craftsman of the century); the theatre at Bordeaux by Louis; and the Odéon, Paris (1789).

In the 18th century, the notable structures include the Hôtel Soubise (1706), now the “Archives Nationales”; the fountain on rue de Crenelle, a beautiful design; the École Militaire (1752), by Gabriel; the École de Médecine (1769), by Gondouin; the mint (1772), by Antoine; the Place de la Concorde, featuring the Garde-Meuble, by Gabriel (1765); the Hôtel de Salm, now the Legion of Honour; Place Stanislas in Nancy (1738-1766), which includes the town hall, archbishop’s palace, theater, and other public buildings, complete with a triumphal arch and avenues leading to the palace of Duke Stanislaus (with stunning wrought-iron enclosures and gates by Jean Lamour, the greatest craftsman of the century); the theater in Bordeaux by Louis; and the Odéon in Paris (1789).

The ecclesiastical architecture of the French Renaissance comes at the end of our description owing to the far greater importance of the palaces, mansions and public monuments, and also because in the beginning of the 16th century France found herself in possession of a much larger number of cathedrals and large churches than she could maintain. Some of these are still unfinished, so that her first efforts would seem to have been directed to the completion of those already begun rather than to the erection of new ones, St Eustache in Paris being nearly the only exception of importance prior to the 17th century.

The church architecture of the French Renaissance comes last in our description due to the much greater significance of the palaces, mansions, and public monuments. Additionally, at the start of the 16th century, France had many more cathedrals and large churches than she could manage. Some of these are still unfinished, suggesting that her initial efforts were focused on completing those already started rather than building new ones, with St. Eustache in Paris being nearly the only significant exception before the 17th century.

We have from time to time dwelt upon the important consideration which must not be lost sight of, viz. that nearly all the buildings erected in France up to the accession of Henry IV. were conceived and carried out in the spirit of the Flamboyant Gothic style, cinque-cento details mixed up with Gothic at first, then superseding them, and even when the influence of the Italian revivalists began to exert itself, still retaining much of her traditional methods of design. If this was the case in civil architecture, it was naturally more pronounced in the additions made to ecclesiastical structures, and the gradual development of the style may be more easily followed in the latter. These are, however, so numerous, and they are so universally spread throughout France, that only a few of the most interesting examples can be here given; for instance, the porch of St Michel at Dijon; the upper part of the western towers of the cathedrals of Orleans and Tours; the three eastern chapels of St Jacques, Dieppe, built at the cost of Jean Ango, a celebrated merchant-prince of Dieppe, to whose chateau at Varengeville we have already referred; the eastern chapels of St Peter’s, Caen, from the designs of Hector Sohier (1521), both internally and externally of great interest; the west end of the church at Vétheuil (Seine-et-Oise); the magnificent work of the west front and tower of the church at Gisors; the upper part of the west front of the cathedral at Angers; the portals of the church at Auxonne (Fichot); the choir at Tillières; the lantern of the church of St Peter, Coutances (1541); the porch of the Dalbade at Toulouse; and the north front of the church of Ste Clotilde at Les Andelys, which dates from the age of Henry II.

We have occasionally considered the important point that we must not overlook: nearly all the buildings constructed in France up to the time of Henry IV were designed and executed in the Flamboyant Gothic style, initially mixing Gothic elements with Renaissance details, then eventually replacing them. Even as the influence of the Italian revivalists began to take hold, much of the traditional design methods were still retained. If this was evident in civil architecture, it was even more pronounced in the additions made to religious buildings, and the gradual development of the style is easier to trace in those. However, there are so many examples, and they are so widely distributed throughout France, that only a few of the most interesting can be mentioned here. For instance, the porch of St Michel in Dijon; the upper sections of the western towers of the cathedrals in Orleans and Tours; the three eastern chapels of St Jacques in Dieppe, built with funds from Jean Ango, a famous merchant-prince of Dieppe, whose chateau at Varengeville we have already mentioned; the eastern chapels of St Peter’s in Caen, designed by Hector Sohier (1521), which are of great interest both inside and out; the west end of the church at Vétheuil (Seine-et-Oise); the impressive west front and tower of the church at Gisors; the upper part of the west front of the cathedral in Angers; the portals of the church at Auxonne (Fichot); the choir at Tillières; the lantern of the church of St Peter in Coutances (1541); the porch of the Dalbade in Toulouse; and the north front of the church of Ste Clotilde in Les Andelys, which dates from the time of Henry II.

The church of St Eustache at Paris, begun in 1533, but not completed till the end of the century, is a large cruciform Gothic structure with lofty double aisles on each side and carried round the choir, and rectangular chapels round the whole building, excepting the west end. Structurally also it possesses all the most characteristic features of the Gothic church, with nave arcades carried on compound piers, triforium and clerestory, vaulted throughout, and flying buttresses outside. Close examination shows that all the details are of the early cinque-cento work, panelled pilasters of varying proportions, but with Renaissance capitals, corbels, niches and canopies all grouped together in a Gothic manner, and quite opposed to the principles of the Italian revivalists; what is more remarkable is that though long before its completion these principles had already borne fruit in the Louvre and Tuileries, the original conception was adhered to, and the portals of the north and south transepts (the last features added, with the exception of the ugly west front of the 18th century) still retain the character of the early French Renaissance.

The church of St Eustache in Paris, started in 1533 but not finished until the end of the century, is a large cross-shaped Gothic structure with tall double aisles on either side that wrap around the choir, and rectangular chapels surrounding the entire building, except for the west end. It showcases all the defining features of a Gothic church, including nave arcades supported by compound piers, a triforium and clerestory, a vaulted interior throughout, and flying buttresses on the outside. A closer look reveals that all the details are from the early 1500s, featuring paneled pilasters of various sizes but with Renaissance capitals, corbels, niches, and canopies all arranged in a Gothic style, which contrasts with the principles of the Italian revivalists. Interestingly, even though by the time it was completed these principles had already influenced the design of the Louvre and Tuileries, the original vision was maintained, and the portals of the north and south transepts (the last features added, apart from the unattractive west front from the 18th century) still reflect the style of the early French Renaissance.

In St Étienne-du-Mont, sometimes claimed as a second example, the church is Flamboyant Gothic throughout, the chief additions being the magnificent rood-screen of 1600, and the west portal, in which the banded columns of the Bourbon period form the chief features.

In St Étienne-du-Mont, often referred to as a second example, the church showcases Flamboyant Gothic style throughout. The main additions are the stunning rood-screen from 1600 and the west portal, where the banded columns from the Bourbon period stand out prominently.

Coming to churches of later date, Salomon de Brosse (c. 1565-1627), the architect of the Luxembourg palace, added in 1616 a fresh front to the church of St Gervais, finely proportioned and of pure Italian design, which contrasts favourably with the Jesuits’ church of St Paul and St Louis (1627-1641), overladen with rococo ornament; then came the churches of the Sorbonne (1629), by Jacques Lemercier, and of the Val-de-Grace (1645), by François Mansart, the dome of the latter, though small, being a fine design; the church of the Invalides, also by Mansart, the dome of which is the most graceful in France; the cathedral of Nancy (1703-1742), by Jules Hardouin Mansart and Germain Boffrand (1667-1754), the principal front of which is flanked by two towers with octagonal lanterns which group so well with the central portion (of the usual design, in two stages with pilasters and coupled columns, carrying a third stage with circular pediment) that it is unfortunate it should be almost the only example of its kind; and lastly the church of Ste Geneviève, better known as the Panthéon (1755), by Jacques Germain Soufflot (1713-1780), the dome of which is based largely on that of St Peter’s in Rome. The main building with its great portico is a simple and fine piece of design, and unlike St Peter’s the dome is well seen from every point of view; the decoration of its walls with paintings by Puvis de Chavannes and other French artists has now rendered the interior one of the most interesting in France.

Coming to more recent churches, Salomon de Brosse (c. 1565-1627), the architect of the Luxembourg Palace, added a new front to the Church of St. Gervais in 1616, which is beautifully proportioned and showcases pure Italian design, standing in contrast to the Jesuit Church of St. Paul and St. Louis (1627-1641), which is heavily adorned with rococo ornamentation. Then there are the churches of the Sorbonne (1629), designed by Jacques Lemercier, and Val-de-Grace (1645), by François Mansart. The dome of the latter, although small, is an excellent design; the Church of the Invalides, also by Mansart, features the most elegant dome in France. The Cathedral of Nancy (1703-1742), by Jules Hardouin Mansart and Germain Boffrand (1667-1754), has a principal front flanked by two towers with octagonal lanterns, which complement the central part (in the usual two-stage design with pilasters and paired columns, topped with a third stage featuring a circular pediment) so well that it's unfortunate it is almost the only example of its kind. Lastly, the Church of Ste. Geneviève, better known as the Panthéon (1755), designed by Jacques Germain Soufflot (1713-1780), has a dome largely inspired by St. Peter’s in Rome. The main building, with its grand portico, is a simple yet elegant design, and unlike St. Peter’s, the dome is visible from all angles. The interior, decorated with paintings by Puvis de Chavannes and other French artists, has become one of the most fascinating in France.

(R. P. S.)

Renaissance Architecture in Spain

Spanish Renaissance Architecture

In Spain, as in France, the revival of classic architecture was engrafted on the Flamboyant style of the country, influenced here and there by Moorish work, so that the earlier examples of Spanish Renaissance constitute a transitional style which lasted till the accession of Philip II. (1558), who introduced what was then considered to be the purer Italian style of Palladio and Vignola. This, however, did not seem to have had much attraction for the Spaniards, owing to its coldness and formality, so that in the latter half of the 17th century a reaction took place in favour of the most depraved and decadent architecture in existence.

In Spain, just like in France, the revival of classic architecture was blended with the country's Flamboyant style, occasionally influenced by Moorish designs. The earlier examples of Spanish Renaissance represent a transitional style that lasted until Philip II came to power in 1558. He brought in what was then seen as the more refined Italian style of Palladio and Vignola. However, this style didn't really appeal to the Spaniards because of its coldness and strictness. As a result, during the latter half of the 17th century, there was a shift back to some of the most corrupt and decadent architecture of the time.

The magnificence of the earlier Renaissance work, which was introduced into Spain when she was at the zenith of her power, and (owing to the discovery of a new world) the possessor of enormous wealth, has scarcely yet been recognized, in consequence of the greater attraction of the Moorish architecture; there is 416 no doubt that its exuberant richness in the 16th century derives its inspiration from the latter, and especially so in patios or courts found in every class of building, ecclesiastical as well as civil. There is still, however, another characteristic in the early Renaissance of Spain, which is not found in Italy or France, and which again owes its source to Moorish work, where the external walls and towers consist of simple plain masonry, and the rich decoration, generally in stucco brilliantly coloured and gilded, is confined to the courts and to the interiors of their magnificent halls. The Italian method of decorating the external front of the palaces with flat pilasters of the various orders placed at regular intervals, the windows and doors forming features of second-rate importance, was not followed by the architects of the Spanish Renaissance, who retained the simple plain masonry and reserved their decorations for the entrance doorways and windows, emphasizing therefore these features, and by contrast increasing their value and interest.

The beauty of earlier Renaissance art, which came to Spain when the country was at its peak and full of wealth thanks to the discovery of a new world, has hardly been recognized due to the stronger appeal of Moorish architecture. It's clear that its rich style in the 16th century was inspired by Moorish designs, especially in the courtyards found in all types of buildings, both religious and secular. However, there's another unique feature in the early Renaissance of Spain that’s not seen in Italy or France, which also comes from Moorish influences. The exterior walls and towers were made of simple, plain masonry, while the luxurious decorations, usually in brightly colored and gilded stucco, were limited to the courtyards and the interiors of grand halls. Unlike Italian architects, who adorned the outside of palaces with flat pilasters of different styles placed evenly and treated windows and doors as less important features, Spanish Renaissance architects kept the simple plain masonry and focused their decorations on entrance doorways and windows, thereby highlighting these elements and enhancing their significance and appeal.

Instead also of the huge cornicione which the Italians employed to give the shadows required to emphasize the crowning features of their palaces, the Spanish architects preferred to obtain a similar effect by an open arcaded upper storey, which, as Fergusson remarks, “forms one of the most pleasing architectural features that can be applied to palatial architecture, giving lightness combined with shadow exactly where wanted for effect and where they can be applied without any apparent interference with solidity.” These galleries would seem to have been provided to serve as promenades to the occupants of the palace, and more especially for the ladies when it would have been unwise or imprudent for them to venture into the streets. There is one well-known example in France, in the château of Blois, which is so attractive a feature that it is singular it has not been more often adopted.

Instead of the large cornicione that Italians used to create the necessary shadows to highlight the distinctive features of their palaces, Spanish architects preferred to achieve a similar effect with an open arcaded upper level. As Fergusson points out, this “creates one of the most pleasing architectural elements for palatial design, providing a combination of lightness and shadow exactly where it’s needed for effect, without any noticeable compromise on stability.” These galleries seem to have been designed as walkways for the palace's inhabitants, especially for the ladies, when it would have been unwise or impractical for them to go out into the streets. One famous example in France is the château of Blois, which features such an attractive design element that it’s surprising it hasn’t been adopted more frequently.

Instead also of the monotonous balustrade, which is invariably found in Italy, the Spanish architects introduced richly carved crestings, with finials at regular intervals, a feature probably borrowed from Flamboyant Gothic and Moorish.

Instead of the boring balustrade typically seen in Italy, Spanish architects brought in beautifully carved crestings with decorative finials spaced regularly, a design element likely inspired by Flamboyant Gothic and Moorish styles.

The three periods into which the architectural phases of the Renaissance style in Spain are divided are:—(1) The Plateresque or Silversmiths’ work, from the conquest of Granada to the reign of Philip II. (2) The purer Italian style, called by the Spanish the Greco-Roman, though it has no Greek elements in its design, being based on the work of Palladio and Vignola. This style prevailed until the end of the 17th century. (3) The Rococo or Churrigueresque style, so called from the name of the architect, José Churriguera (d. 1725), the chief leader of the movement, which lasted for about 100 years.

The architectural phases of the Renaissance style in Spain are divided into three periods: (1) The Plateresque or Silversmiths' style, from the conquest of Granada to the reign of Philip II. (2) The purer Italian style, known in Spain as the Greco-Roman, although it has no Greek elements in its design and is based on the work of Palladio and Vignola. This style was dominant until the end of the 17th century. (3) The Rococo or Churrigueresque style, named after the architect José Churriguera (d. 1725), who was the main leader of the movement that lasted for about 100 years.

Ecclesiastical Architecture.—The cathedral of Granada, built from the designs of Diego de Siloé, is the earliest example of the Renaissance in Spain, and in some respects the most remarkable, not only for its plan, in which there is an entirely new feature, but for the scheme adopted in the vaulting, which covers the whole church, and shows that its architect had studied the earlier Gothic churches, and was well acquainted with the principles of thrust and counter-thrust developed in them. The cathedral is 400 ft. long by 230 ft. wide, and therefore of the first class as far as size is concerned. The western portion consists of nave and double aisles on each side, the outer aisle being carried round the whole church and giving access to the chapels which enclose the building. The principal feature of the cathedral is at the east end, where the place of the ordinary apse is occupied by a great circular area, 70 ft. in diameter, crowned by a lofty dome, in the centre of which in a flood of light stands the high altar. The vista from the nave through the great arch (37 ft. 6 in. wide and 97 ft. high) is extremely fine, and it is strange that it should be the only example of its kind. The west front was completed at a later date; the only feature of it belonging to the original church being the north-west tower, which, in its design, resembles the south-west tower of the church at Gisors in France. There are two other important Renaissance cathedrals at Jaen and Valladolid. The latter was built from a design of Juan de Badajoz in 1585 but never completed. On the south side of the cathedral is the chapel in which the Catholic kings lie buried, where there are two fine marble tombs enclosed by the reja or wrought-iron screen partly gilt, forged in 1522 by Maestre Bartholome. The sagrario or parish church, also on the south side, is a small version of the scheme of design employed in the cathedral.

Ecclesiastical Architecture.—The cathedral of Granada, designed by Diego de Siloé, is the first example of Renaissance architecture in Spain and is remarkable in many ways. Its layout features a completely new aspect, and the vaulted ceilings that span the entire church indicate that the architect studied earlier Gothic churches and mastered the principles of thrust and counter-thrust found in them. The cathedral measures 400 ft. long and 230 ft. wide, placing it in the top tier for size. The western part includes a nave and double aisles on each side, with the outer aisle surrounding the church and giving access to the chapels that encircle it. The main highlight of the cathedral is at the east end, where the typical apse is replaced by a large circular area, 70 ft. in diameter, topped with a high dome that floods the space with light and houses the high altar. The view from the nave through the grand arch (37 ft. 6 in. wide and 97 ft. high) is stunning, and it's unusual that this is the only example of its kind. The west front was finished later; the only part from the original design is the north-west tower, which is similar in style to the south-west tower of the church in Gisors, France. There are two other significant Renaissance cathedrals in Jaen and Valladolid. The latter was started based on a design by Juan de Badajoz in 1585 but was never completed. On the south side of the cathedral, there's a chapel where the Catholic kings are buried, featuring two exquisite marble tombs protected by a reja or wrought-iron screen partly gilded, forged in 1522 by Maestre Bartholome. The sagrario, or parish church, also on the south side, is a smaller version of the design used in the cathedral.

In Spain, as in France, magnificent portals have been added to cathedrals and churches, and these are amongst the finest works of the Renaissance period. The more remarkable of these are the portals of the cathedral of Malaga, a deeply recessed porch, enriched with slender shafts and niches between; of Santa Engracia at Saragossa; and of Santo Domingo and the cathedral at Salamanca. Externally the Renaissance domes over the crossings of Spanish cathedrals are poor, but this is compensated for by the lofty steeples which form striking features. The western towers of the cathedral at Valladolid; the tower of the Seo in Saragossa, which bears some resemblance to Wren’s steeples in the setting back of the several storeys and the crowning with octagonal lanterns; the tower of the cathedral Del Pilar at Saragossa, and that at Santiago, are all interesting examples of the Spanish Renaissance.

In Spain, just like in France, stunning entrances have been added to cathedrals and churches, and these are among the finest works of the Renaissance era. The most notable of these are the entrances of the cathedral in Malaga, which features a deeply recessed porch adorned with slender columns and niches; the one at Santa Engracia in Zaragoza; and the entrances at Santo Domingo and the cathedral in Salamanca. While the Renaissance domes over the crossings of Spanish cathedrals aren't impressive from the outside, they are beautifully balanced by the tall steeples that stand out. The western towers of the cathedral in Valladolid, the tower of the Seo in Zaragoza, which somewhat resembles Wren’s steeples with their stepped design and octagonal lanterns on top, the tower of the cathedral Del Pilar in Zaragoza, and the tower at Santiago are all fascinating examples of Spanish Renaissance architecture.

One of the most beautiful features of the Spanish Renaissance is found in the magnificent rejas or wrought-iron grilles, richly gilt, which form the enclosures of the chapels. Besides the example at Granada, others are found at Seville, where is the masterpiece of Sancho Muñoz (1528); at Palencia (1582); Cuenca (1557), where there are three fine examples; Toledo; Salamanca; and other cathedrals. The iron pulpit at Avila, the eagle lectern at Cuenca and the staircase railing at Burgos are all remarkable works in metal.

One of the most stunning features of the Spanish Renaissance is the beautiful rejas or wrought-iron grilles, richly gilded, that enclose the chapels. In addition to the example in Granada, there are others in Seville, including the masterpiece by Sancho Muñoz (1528); at Palencia (1582); Cuenca (1557), where there are three impressive examples; Toledo; Salamanca; and various other cathedrals. The iron pulpit in Avila, the eagle lectern in Cuenca, and the staircase railing in Burgos are all outstanding metalworks.

Secular Architecture.—With the exception of the magnificent portals, the finest works of the Renaissance in Spain as in France are to be found in the secular buildings, but with this difference, that the best examples in France are those built in the country or in comparatively small provincial towns, whereas in Spain they are all in the midst of the larger towns, and further they are not confined to palaces and chateaux; monasteries and universities coming in for an equal share in the great architectural development.

Secular Architecture.—Aside from the stunning entrances, the best works of the Renaissance in Spain and France are found in the secular buildings. However, there's a notable difference: the top examples in France are those built in rural areas or smaller towns, while in Spain, they are all located within larger cities. Additionally, the architectural advancements aren't limited to just palaces and chateaux; monasteries and universities also play a significant role in this great architectural evolution.

The characteristic style of the Spanish architecture of the Renaissance period is due probably to the influence of the earlier Moorish work, where the value of the rich Alhambresque decorations in the entrance doorways and windows, and the patios or courts, is enhanced by contrast with the plain masonry of their walls and towers. This influence had already been felt in the Spanish flamboyant Gothic panelling and tracery; when translated into Renaissance, and probably, at first, executed by Italian artists, it displayed a variety and beauty in its design scarcely inferior to some of the best work in Italy. And this development, taking place at a time when Spain was overflowing with wealth, resulted in that exuberant richness we find in the entrance doorways and windows, the external galleries of the upper storey, and the rich cresting surmounting the cornice.

The distinct style of Spanish architecture during the Renaissance likely stems from the earlier Moorish influences, where the elaborate Alhambresque decorations on entrance doorways and windows, as well as the patios or courtyards, stand out against the plain walls and towers. This influence was already present in Spanish flamboyant Gothic detailing; when adapted into the Renaissance style, likely initially created by Italian artists, it showcased a variety and beauty in design that was nearly on par with some of the finest work in Italy. This evolution occurred at a time when Spain was incredibly wealthy, resulting in the vibrant richness we see in the entrance doorways and windows, the external galleries on the upper floors, and the ornate cresting above the cornice.

Comparison with the contemporary and even earlier work in Italy, where the principal thought of the architect would seem to have been to break the wall surface by an unmeaning series of flat pilasters, and then fill in the windows as features of secondary importance, will show that the Spanish architect recognized more fully the true principle of design, and although, in the profiles of their mouldings, and the execution of the sculpture decorating their pilasters and friezes, Spanish work in contrast with Italian looks somewhat coarse, in general picturesqueness it is far in advance of the palaces of Rome, Florence, and even Venice, and has not yet received the recognition which it deserves.

Comparison with contemporary and even earlier work in Italy, where the main focus of architects seemed to be breaking up wall surfaces with a meaningless series of flat pilasters and then treating the windows as less important features, shows that Spanish architects understood the true principles of design more deeply. While Spanish moulding profiles and the craftsmanship of the sculptures on their pilasters and friezes may appear somewhat rough compared to Italian work, in terms of overall visual appeal, it surpasses the palaces of Rome, Florence, and even Venice, and has yet to receive the recognition it truly deserves.

The earliest palace built in the Renaissance style is that which adjoins the Alhambra at Granada, and was begun by the emperor Charles V. for his own residence in 1527, but never completed. The building is nearly an exact square of 205 ft., with a great circular court in the centre, nearly 100 ft. in diameter. This central court was enclosed by a colonnade with Doric columns, and an upper storey with columns of the Ionic order. From the unfinished condition of the palace and the absence of roofs, it is difficult to decide what the form of the latter might have been. But the design, begun by Pedro Machuca and continued by Alonso Berruguete (1480-1561), is so remarkable that it ought to be better known. Its proximity to the Alhambra, however, deprives it of the attention which otherwise it deserves for the purity of its details and for its good proportion.

The earliest palace built in the Renaissance style is the one next to the Alhambra in Granada, started by Emperor Charles V. for his own residence in 1527, but it was never finished. The building is nearly a perfect square measuring 205 ft., with a large circular courtyard in the center that's almost 100 ft. in diameter. This central courtyard is surrounded by a colonnade with Doric columns and an upper level with Ionic columns. Because the palace is unfinished and lacks roofs, it's hard to tell what their design might have been. However, the design, initiated by Pedro Machuca and carried on by Alonso Berruguete (1480-1561), is so impressive that it deserves more recognition. Its closeness to the Alhambra, though, means it doesn't get the attention it should for its detailed purity and good proportions.

A second palace, the Alcazar at Toledo, was begun in 1540 by Charles II., but little else than the bare walls remain, as it was destroyed by fire in 1886, after having been twice rebuilt. In its design it belongs to the true Spanish type of the Renaissance, with the simple ashlar masonry of its walls and the accentuation of the principal entrance doorway and the windows. In this palace also the plan is square, about 110 ft., with a square courtyard (240 ft.).

A second palace, the Alcazar at Toledo, was started in 1540 by Charles II, but only the bare walls are left now since it was destroyed by fire in 1886, having been rebuilt twice before. In its design, it reflects the authentic Spanish style of the Renaissance, featuring the plain ashlar masonry of its walls and emphasizing the main entrance doorway and windows. This palace also has a square layout, measuring about 110 ft., with a square courtyard that is 240 ft. across.

The third palace built, the Escorial, some 20 m. to the north-east of Madrid, is the most renowned—more, however, on account of its immense size than for its design. It was built for Philip II. and begun in 1563 from the designs of Juan Bautista de Toledo, being completed by his pupil, Juan de Herrera, in 1584. The principal front is 680 ft. in width, the depth of the palace 540 ft., with the king’s residence in the rear. The plan is a fine conception, and consists of a large entrance court in the centre, with the church in the rear, having on the right the Colegio and on the left the monastery, with numerous courts in each case. The church is 320 ft. long by 220 ft. wide, the principal portion being the intersection of the nave and transept, which is covered by a dome. The coro is placed above the entrance vestibule, which is 100 ft. long and 27 ft. high, imperfectly lighted, but by contrast emphasizing the dimensions and the splendour of the church beyond. Externally the grouping is fine; the lofty towers at the angles, the central composition of the main front, and at the rear of the court the front of the church 417 with its corner towers and the great dome, all form an exceedingly picturesque group, and it is only when one begins to examine the work in detail that its poverty in design reveals itself. Instead of accentuating the windows of the principal storeys and giving them appropriate dressings, the fronts are pierced with innumerable windows, which give the appearance of a factory, and the angle towers, nine storeys high, look like ordinary “sky-scrapers,” without any of the dignity and importance which the architectural design of a palace requires. The same applies to the great entrance courts five storeys high with an attic, all of the most commonplace design. Internally the church is fine, but it is dwarfed by the immense size of the Doric pilasters, 62 ft. high, all in plain stone masonry, the coldness of which is emphasized by the rich colouring of the vaulted ceilings and the elaboration of the pavement, all in coloured marbles. The palace is regarded by the Spaniards as the Versailles of Spain, and if it had been possible to have interchanged some of the features, to transfer to Versailles some of the towers, and to break up the wall surface of the Escorial with the superimposed order of pilasters, which became monotonous by their repetition at Versailles, both palaces would have gained.

The third palace built, the Escorial, located about 20 miles northeast of Madrid, is the most famous—mainly because of its enormous size rather than its design. It was constructed for Philip II, starting in 1563 from the designs of Juan Bautista de Toledo and completed by his pupil, Juan de Herrera, in 1584. The main facade is 680 feet wide, and the depth of the palace is 540 feet, with the king's residence at the back. The layout is a great concept, featuring a large entrance courtyard in the center, a church at the rear, with the Colegio on the right and the monastery on the left, each having multiple courtyards. The church measures 320 feet long by 220 feet wide, with the main area being the intersection of the nave and transept, covered by a dome. The choir is positioned above the entrance vestibule, which is 100 feet long and 27 feet high, poorly lit, but this contrast highlights the size and grandeur of the church beyond. Externally, the arrangement is impressive; the tall towers at the corners, the central design of the main facade, and the church facade at the back of the courtyard with its corner towers and large dome all create a very picturesque scene. However, upon closer examination, its design flaws become apparent. Instead of highlighting the windows on the main floors with suitable framing, the facades are filled with countless windows, giving it a factory-like appearance. The corner towers, nine stories high, resemble ordinary skyscrapers, lacking the dignity and significance that a palace's architectural design should have. The same goes for the great entrance courtyards, which are five stories high with an attic, featuring the most average design. Inside, the church is beautiful, but it is overshadowed by the massive Doric pilasters, 62 feet tall, made of plain stone, whose coldness is contrasted by the rich colors of the vaulted ceilings and the intricate flooring, all in colored marbles. The palace is viewed by the Spaniards as the Versailles of Spain, and if it were possible to swap some features—like transferring some towers to Versailles and breaking up the repetitive wall surfaces of the Escorial with the layered pilasters that became monotonous at Versailles—both palaces would have benefited.

The palace at Madrid is the last of the series, and although it was begun at a much later period, by Philip V. in 1737, from the designs of the Italian architect Sachetti, it is a fine and simple composition, consisting of a lofty ground storey with coursed masonry, carrying semi-detached columns of the Ionic order, rising through three storeys, the whole crowned by an entablature and a bold balustrade. The slightly projecting wings at each end of the main front and the central frontispiece give that variety and play of light and shade of which one regrets the absence in the Cancellaria palace at Rome.

The palace in Madrid is the last in the series, and even though it started much later, by Philip V. in 1737, based on designs by the Italian architect Sachetti, it's a striking and straightforward design. It features a tall ground floor with layered stonework, supporting semi-detached Ionic columns that rise through three stories, all topped with an entablature and a bold balustrade. The slightly protruding wings at each end of the main facade and the central entrance add some variety and create interesting light and shadow, which is something you miss in the Cancellaria palace in Rome.

We must, however, retrace our steps to the beginning of the 16th century, to take up the early buildings of the style; the palace of the Conde de Monterey at Salamanca, built in 1530 from the designs of Alonso de Covarrubias, is a fine example. The masonry of the ground and first floors is of the simplest character, the decoration being confined to the entrance doorways and to the windows of the important rooms. It is on the second floor that the design becomes enriched with an open arcade and entablature above, crowned with a rich cresting. In the wings at the angles, and in the central block, the buildings are carried up an additional storey, the plain masonry of which gives value to the open galleries between. On these wings and the central block are other galleries crowned with entablature and cresting. These features therefore form towers, which break the sky-line. There is still another treatment peculiar to the Spanish Renaissance, in which the example of the Moorish palaces would seem to have been followed, viz. the elaborate carving of the pilasters and their capitals, of the panelling and the horizontal friezes, which is extremely minute and finished in the lower storeys, but increases in scale and projection towards the upper storeys. This is very notable in the entrance gateway of the university of Salamanca (Plate V., fig. 73), where the carved arabesque in the panelling above the doors is of the finest description, equal to what might be found in cabinet work, whilst that of the upper portion immediately under the cornice is at least twice the scale of that below and is in bold relief.

We need to go back to the beginning of the 16th century to look at the early buildings of this style. The palace of the Conde de Monterey in Salamanca, built in 1530 according to Alonso de Covarrubias's designs, is a great example. The masonry on the ground and first floors is quite simple, with decoration limited to the entrance doorways and windows of the main rooms. It's on the second floor where the design starts to get more elaborate, featuring an open arcade and an entablature above, topped with an ornate cresting. The wings at the corners and the central block add another floor, and the plain masonry enhances the value of the open galleries in between. The wings and central block also have additional galleries crowned with entablature and cresting. These elements create towers that alter the skyline. There’s also a unique approach in the Spanish Renaissance that seems influenced by Moorish palaces, characterized by intricate carving of the pilasters and their capitals, as well as the paneling and horizontal friezes. The details are very fine and refined on the lower floors, but they get larger and more pronounced as you go up. This is particularly evident at the entrance gateway of the University of Salamanca (Plate V., fig. 73), where the carved arabesque in the paneling above the doors is exquisitely detailed, comparable to what you’d find in fine furniture, while the carvings of the upper section just below the cornice are at least twice the size of those below and are more prominently raised.

The principal buildings characteristic of the Spanish Renaissance, in chronological order, are:—the hospital of Santa Cruz at Toledo, built in 1504-1514, and the Hospicio de los Reyes at Santiago (1504), both from the designs of Enrique de Egas, the former with a magnificent portal rising through two storeys and a gallery with an open arcade above; the Irish college at Salamanca, built (1521) from the designs of Pedro de Ibarra, Alonso de Covarrubias, and Berruguete; the convent of San Marcos, Leon, by Juan de Badajoz (1514-1545)—here, however, the whole façade is panelled out in imitation of late Gothic work, Renaissance pilasters and devices taking the place of the buttresses set angle-wise and flamboyant panelling; the Colegio de San Ildefonso at Alcalá de Henares (formerly the seat of the university), built in 1557-1584 by Rodrigo Gil de Ontañon.

The key buildings that represent the Spanish Renaissance, in chronological order, are: the Hospital of Santa Cruz in Toledo, built between 1504-1514, and the Hospicio de los Reyes in Santiago (1504), both designed by Enrique de Egas. The former features a stunning portal that rises through two stories with a gallery and an open arcade above. Next is the Irish College in Salamanca, built in 1521, created by Pedro de Ibarra, Alonso de Covarrubias, and Berruguete. Then there's the Convent of San Marcos in León, by Juan de Badajoz (1514-1545)—here, the entire façade is decorated to mimic late Gothic work, with Renaissance pilasters and designs replacing the angled buttresses and flamboyant paneling. Lastly, the Colegio de San Ildefonso in Alcalá de Henares (which used to be the university's location), built from 1557 to 1584 by Rodrigo Gil de Ontañon.

Of municipal buildings the Lonja or exchange at Toledo (1551), built in brick-work, is somewhat Florentine in style.

Of municipal buildings, the Lonja or exchange in Toledo (1551), made of brick, has a bit of a Florentine style.

The town hall of Seville (1527-1532), by Diego de Riaño and Martin Garuza, may be taken as the most gorgeous example in Spain (Plate V., fig. 74). The front facing the square is very simple, compared with the façade in the street at the rear, and here again we find, in the ornamental carving of the windows and door mouldings on the ground floor, a different scale from that adopted on the first floor, where the shafts are enriched with a superabundance of carved ornament in strong relief. There is still one other feature of great importance in Spain, the magnificent galleries of the patios or courts found in all the important buildings. It is from these galleries that access is obtained to the rooms on the first floor. They have sometimes arcades on the first floor, and columns with bracket-capitals on the upper storey. There is an infinite variety of design in these capitals, the brackets on each side of which lessen the bearing of the architrave.

The Seville town hall (1527-1532), designed by Diego de Riaño and Martin Garuza, is considered one of the most beautiful examples in Spain (Plate V., fig. 74). The front facing the square is quite simple compared to the façade on the street at the back, where we see a different style in the intricate carving of the windows and door moldings on the ground floor. This contrasts with the first floor, where the columns are embellished with an abundance of intricate carvings in high relief. Another significant feature in Spain is the stunning galleries of the patios or courtyards found in all major buildings. These galleries provide access to the rooms on the first floor. They sometimes have arcades on the first floor, and columns with bracket-capitals on the upper level. The designs of these capitals vary widely, with the brackets on each side reducing the load of the architrave.

The earliest Renaissance example of these patios (1525) is in the Irish college at Salamanca; it was carved by Berruguete, Alonso de Covarrubias being the architect. In the same town is the Casa de la Salinas, another example with fine sculpture. In the Casa Polentina (1550) at Avila, and the Casa de Miranda at Burgos, columns with bracket-capitals are employed on both storeys. Rich examples are found in the Casa de la Infanta and Casa Zaporta (1580), both at Saragossa. Of late examples the patio of the Lonja at Seville by Juan de Herrera resembles in its style the courtyard of the Farnese palace at Rome; and the same style obtains in the court of the Escorial, built at a time when the purer Italian style was introduced into Spain. These courts, though cold in design, compared with the earlier Renaissance type, are of fine proportion. Two other examples are found in the bishop’s palace at Alcalá de Henares, one of which has a magnificent staircase.

The earliest Renaissance example of these patios (1525) is at the Irish college in Salamanca; it was carved by Berruguete, with Alonso de Covarrubias as the architect. In the same city is the Casa de la Salinas, another example featuring great sculpture. The Casa Polentina (1550) in Avila and the Casa de Miranda in Burgos have columns with bracket capitals on both floors. Notable examples can be found in the Casa de la Infanta and Casa Zaporta (1580), both in Saragossa. A later example is the patio of the Lonja in Seville by Juan de Herrera, which resembles the courtyard of the Farnese palace in Rome; this style is also present in the court of the Escorial, built when the more refined Italian style was introduced in Spain. These courtyards, while less ornate compared to the earlier Renaissance style, are well-proportioned. Two other examples are located in the bishop’s palace at Alcalá de Henares, one of which features a stunning staircase.

(R. P. S.)

Renaissance Architecture in England

Renaissance Architecture in England

In England, as in France, the influence of the Classic Revival was first seen in connexion with tombs and church work, though not nearly to the same extent as in France, where throughout the country the work of the Italian sculptor is to be found not only in churches but in country mansions. On the other hand, two if not three of the Italian artists who came over to England were men of some reputation, such as Pietro Torrigiano, a Florentine sculptor who was invited over by Henry VIII. and entrusted with the tomb of Henry VII. in Westminster Abbey (1512-1518), and executed the tomb of John Young (in terra-cotta) in the Rolls chapel (1516). Another Italian was Giovanni da Maiano, who was also a Florentine, who modelled the busts of the emperors in the terra-cotta medallions over the entrance gates at Hampton Court, and probably the panel flanked by Corinthian pilasters, in which are modelled the arms of Cardinal Wolsey, also in terra-cotta. Benedetto da Rovezzano (1478-c. 1552), and Toto del Nunziata, Italian artists of note, were also employed in England, the first on the tomb of Cardinal Wolsey (now destroyed), and the second on the palace of Nonsuch, built by Henry VIII., which was pulled down in 1670. Other early Renaissance work is found at Christchurch Priory, in the Salisbury Chantry (1529), the design of which is Gothic and some of the details Italian, and in the tombs of the countess of Richmond in Westminster Abbey (1519), of the earl of Arundel in Arundel church, Sussex, of Henry, Lord Marney, at Layer Marney (1525), of the duke of Richmond (1537) and the duchess of Norfolk (1572) in Framlingham church; and of Queen Anne of Cleves (1557) in Westminster Abbey, attributed to Haveus of Cleves. The sedilia (in terra-cotta) of Wymondham church, Norfolk, the choir screen at St Cross, and Bishop Gardiner’s chantry, Winchester, and the vaulted roof of Bishop West’s chapel at Ely, all show the direct influence of the Italian cinque-cento style. The most beautiful example in England of Italian woodwork is the organ screen in King’s College chapel, Cambridge (1534-1539), which, except for the coats of arms, the roses, portcullis and other English emblems, might be in some Italian church, so perfect is its design and execution. Of early domestic work, Sutton Place (1523-1525), near Guildford, Surrey, is a good example of transition work. The design is Tudor, but the window mullions and panels inserted throughout the structure, which is built in brick, are all enriched with cinque-cento details in terra-cotta, and probably executed by Italian craftsmen. Similar enrichments in the same material are found decorating the entrance tower (1522-1525) at Layer Marney, Essex.

In England, just like in France, the impact of the Classic Revival was first noticed in relation to tombs and church projects, although not nearly to the same degree as in France, where you can find the work of Italian sculptors not just in churches but also in country estates. On the flip side, two or maybe three of the Italian artists who came to England had a good reputation, like Pietro Torrigiano, a sculptor from Florence who was invited by Henry VIII to create the tomb of Henry VII in Westminster Abbey (1512-1518) and also made the terra-cotta tomb of John Young in the Rolls Chapel (1516). Another Italian artist was Giovanni da Maiano, also from Florence, who modeled the busts of the emperors in the terra-cotta medallions above the entrance gates at Hampton Court and probably worked on the panel flanked by Corinthian pilasters that features the arms of Cardinal Wolsey, also in terra-cotta. Benedetto da Rovezzano (1478-c. 1552) and Toto del Nunziata, notable Italian artists, were also brought to England; Rovezzano worked on the tomb of Cardinal Wolsey (which is now lost), and Nunziata contributed to the palace of Nonsuch, built by Henry VIII, which was demolished in 1670. Other early Renaissance pieces can be found at Christchurch Priory, in the Salisbury Chantry (1529), which has a Gothic design with some Italian details, and in the tombs of the Countess of Richmond in Westminster Abbey (1519), the Earl of Arundel in Arundel Church, Sussex, Henry, Lord Marney, at Layer Marney (1525), the Duke of Richmond (1537), and the Duchess of Norfolk (1572) in Framlingham Church; and of Queen Anne of Cleves (1557) in Westminster Abbey, attributed to Haveus of Cleves. The sedilia (in terra-cotta) at Wymondham Church, Norfolk, the choir screen at St Cross, Bishop Gardiner’s chantry in Winchester, and the vaulted roof of Bishop West’s chapel at Ely all reflect the direct influence of the Italian cinque-cento style. The most stunning example of Italian woodwork in England is the organ screen in King’s College chapel, Cambridge (1534-1539), which, aside from the coats of arms, roses, portcullis, and other English symbols, could easily belong in an Italian church due to its perfect design and craftsmanship. Among early domestic architecture, Sutton Place (1523-1525), near Guildford, Surrey, is a great example of transitional work. The design is Tudor, but the window mullions and panels throughout the brick structure are all enhanced with cinque-cento details in terra-cotta, likely created by Italian craftsmen. Similar decorative details in the same material are present on the entrance tower (1522-1525) at Layer Marney, Essex.

Nearly all the examples above mentioned come within the first half of the 16th century. Passing into the second half and dealing with domestic architecture, we find the history of the introduction of classic work into England more complicated than in other countries, because in addition to the Italian, we have French, Flemish and German influences to reckon with, and it is sometimes difficult to decide from which source the features are borrowed. There were, however, two still more important considerations to be taken into account—firstly, the extremely conservative character of the English people, who were satisfied with the traditional work of the country, and the methods by which it was carried out, and secondly, the great progress in design which was made during the Elizabethan period, resulting in a phase which was peculiarly English and did not lend itself easily to classic embellishment.

Nearly all the examples mentioned above are from the first half of the 16th century. Moving into the second half and looking at domestic architecture, the history of how classic styles were brought into England is more complex than in other countries. This is because, in addition to Italian influences, we also have French, Flemish, and German styles to consider, making it sometimes hard to determine the original source of certain features. However, there were two even more important factors to consider: first, the very conservative nature of the English people, who were content with the traditional work of their country and the methods used to create it; and second, the significant advancements in design during the Elizabethan period, which led to a distinctly English style that didn't easily accommodate classic decoration.

Already in the last phase of Gothic work, to which the title of Tudor is generally given, important changes were being made in the planning of the larger country mansions, and features 418 were introduced which seemed to give an impetus towards their further development.

Already in the final phase of Gothic architecture, generally referred to as Tudor, significant changes were occurring in the design of larger country mansions, and elements 418 were introduced that appeared to propel their further development.

The most important of these features were the following:—the bow window, rectangular or polygonal, of which the earliest examples date from the reign of Edward IV. (1461-1483), such as Eltham Palace in Kent, Cowdray Castle in Sussex, and Thornbury Castle in Gloucestershire, and at a later period at Hampton Court; octagonal towers or turrets flanking the entrance gateway at each end of the main front; the projecting forward of the side wings so as to get better light to the rooms in them by having windows on both sides, such projections varying the otherwise monotonous effect of a uniform façade without breaks; the long gallery (generally on an upper floor), which was an important characteristic of the Elizabethan house; and last but not least, the adherence to the type of old Tudor window, with its moulded mullions and transoms but with square head.

The most important features included the following: the bow window, which could be rectangular or polygonal, with the earliest examples dating back to the reign of Edward IV (1461-1483), such as Eltham Palace in Kent, Cowdray Castle in Sussex, and Thornbury Castle in Gloucestershire, and later at Hampton Court; octagonal towers or turrets on either side of the entrance gateway at both ends of the main front; the side wings protruding forward to allow for more light in the rooms with windows on both sides, adding variety to an otherwise monotonous uniform façade; the long gallery (usually located on an upper floor), which was a key feature of Elizabethan houses; and last but not least, the use of the traditional Tudor window style, with its shaped mullions and transoms but with a square head.

One of the first modifications was the introduction of semicircular bow windows, as in Kirby Hall, Northamptonshire, followed by a second example at Burton Agnes in Yorkshire (1602-1610), and a third at Lilford Hall in Northamptonshire (1635). They were carried up through three storeys at Kirby Hall, the upper storey in the roof; three storeys at Burton Agnes with balcony and balustrade; and two storeys at Lilford Hall—these features being extremely simple but fine in effect, and the windows with moulded mullions and transoms lending themselves naturally to the curve.

One of the first changes was the addition of semicircular bow windows, like those at Kirby Hall in Northamptonshire, followed by another example at Burton Agnes in Yorkshire (1602-1610), and a third at Lilford Hall in Northamptonshire (1635). At Kirby Hall, they rose through three stories, with the top story in the roof; at Burton Agnes, there were three stories complete with a balcony and balustrade; and at Lilford Hall, there were two stories. These features were very simple but looked great, and the windows, with their shaped mullions and transoms, naturally complemented the curve.

The projecting bays and bow windows seemed to have such an attraction for the builders of these country mansions that at Burton Agnes (with a rectangular plan of 120 ft. by 80 ft.) there are no fewer than thirteen of them, which break up the wall surface and give a picturesque group externally, whilst internally they add to the fine effect of the rooms. At Barlborough Hall, Derbyshire, with a frontage of 80 ft., there is a central rectangular bay forming the entrance porch and carried up above the roof, and two large octagonal bow windows which rise as towers with an extra storey. In all these mansions the only influence which the Revival seems to have exerted was in the introduction of an entablature, which sometimes takes the place of the Gothic string course, balustrades which crown the building, but with no projecting cornice, and gables with curved outlines and Renaissance panels or scrolls. The fact is that, with prominent features so widely differing from those which were represented on the perspective drawings attached to the earlier publications of the five orders, such as those of Serlio (1537) and Vredeman de Vries of Antwerp (1577), the only course left open to the master-mason was to decorate the principal entrance with columns and pilasters of the Classic orders, sometimes superposed one upon the other.

The projecting bays and bow windows seemed to attract the builders of these country mansions so much that at Burton Agnes (which has a rectangular shape of 120 ft. by 80 ft.), there are no less than thirteen of them, breaking up the wall surface and creating a picturesque look on the outside, while enhancing the beautiful effect of the rooms inside. At Barlborough Hall in Derbyshire, with an 80 ft. frontage, there is a central rectangular bay that forms the entrance porch and extends above the roof, along with two large octagonal bow windows that rise like towers with an extra story. In all these mansions, the only influence the Revival seems to have had was the addition of an entablature, which sometimes replaces the Gothic string course, balustrades that crown the building without a projecting cornice, and gables with curved outlines and Renaissance panels or scrolls. The reality is that, with prominent features so significantly different from those depicted in the perspective drawings linked to the earlier publications of the five orders, like those by Serlio (1537) and Vredeman de Vries of Antwerp (1577), the only option left for the master-mason was to decorate the main entrance with columns and pilasters of the Classic orders, sometimes stacked on top of each other.

To the further development of this singular introduction of the Classic orders we shall return; for the moment it will be better to follow a chronological sequence and take up the principal examples of the country mansion, some of which were from the first intended to be Classic buildings. Of the house built at Gorhambury in Hertfordshire (1563) for Sir Nicholas Bacon, the father of Lord Bacon, too little remains to render its design intelligible, except that it still retains in its lofty window the Tudor pointed arch; but in Longleat in Wiltshire, built by Sir John Thynne (1567-1580), we have a typical example, the design of which departs from the English type, though it would seem to have been carried out according to the traditional custom of entrusting the whole work to a master-mason, and furnishing him with sketch designs of some kind suggesting the required arrangements of the plan, the principal features of the exterior elevation and the internal disposition. This custom was adhered to far into the 18th century at Oxford and Cambridge, where the alterations and additions to some of the colleges, such as the chapel of Clare College, Cambridge (1763), were carried out by master-masons or builders who were supplied with sketch designs and sometimes even the materials for the buildings they had to carry out, notwithstanding the existence of properly trained architects, who from the first half of the 17th century were usually entrusted with the preparation of the necessary designs for new structures of any considerable importance.

To further explore this unique introduction of the Classic orders, we will return later; for now, it's best to follow a chronological order and look at the main examples of country mansions, some of which were originally meant to be Classic buildings. The house built at Gorhambury in Hertfordshire (1563) for Sir Nicholas Bacon, the father of Lord Bacon, has too little left to make its design clear, except that it still has the Tudor pointed arch in its tall window. However, at Longleat in Wiltshire, built by Sir John Thynne (1567-1580), we have a typical example where the design moves away from the English style. It appears that the project was executed according to the usual practice of giving the entire job to a master mason, who was provided with sketch designs suggesting the layout of the plan, the key aspects of the exterior, and the internal arrangement. This practice continued well into the 18th century at Oxford and Cambridge, where changes and additions to some of the colleges, like the chapel of Clare College, Cambridge (1763), were done by master masons or builders who received sketch designs and sometimes even the materials for the buildings they were constructing, despite the availability of properly trained architects. From the first half of the 17th century, architects were usually responsible for creating the necessary designs for new structures of any significant importance.

The name of the designer of Longleat is not known; the master-mason was Robert Smithson, who in 1580 went to Wollaton in Nottinghamshire and constructed the mansion there. Longleat is so Italian in style that it must have been conceived by some one who had been in Italy, because it departs from the usual English type. The plan is rectangular, with a frontage of 220 ft. by 180 ft. deep, an entrance porch in the centre, with two projecting bays on each side carried up through the three storeys, and three similar bays on the flanks. The whole block is crowned with a parapet, the centre portion of which is pierced with a balustrade, but the main cornice bears no resemblance to the Italian feature, being only that of the entablature of the upper order. The projecting bays are decorated with pilasters of the Doric, Ionic and Corinthian orders, each with its proper entablature. These classic features would seem to have been copied from a work by John Shute, painter and architect, who had been sent to Italy by the duke of Northumberland in 1551, and in 1563 brought out his Chief Groundes of Architecture, the first practical work published in English on architecture. Shute died in the same year, but two other editions appeared in 1579 and 1584, which shows that it must have had an extensive circulation and probably exercised the greatest influence on English architecture. A second book on the orders, already referred to as published in 1577 by Jan Vredeman de Vries of Antwerp, was not of the same type, for instead of confining his work, like Shute and Serlio, to a simple representation of the Classic orders, he introduced, on the shafts of his columns and on the pedestals, designs of the most debased rococo type, with additional plates suggesting their application to various buildings. Robert Smithson, or his client Sir Fr. Willoughby, apparently obtained a copy of this book, and the result is seen (Plate VI., fig. 76) in the mansion built at Wollaton (1580-1588), in which we find the first examples of elaborately decorated pedestals; crestings on the angle towers, the design of which is known as strap-work; and medallions with busts in them, enclosed with twisted curves similar to those which flowers and leaves take when thrown into the fire. The plan and the scheme of the design of Wollaton is, however, so far superior to the usual type, that it may fairly be ascribed to John Thorpe, an architect or surveyor, of whose drawings there is a large collection in the Soane Museum, representing many of the more important mansions of the Elizabethan era; some of his own design, others either plans measured from existing buildings upon which he was called in to report or copies from other sources, and some reproduced from published works such as Vredeman de Vries’s pattern book and Androuet du Cerceau’s Des plus excellents bastiments de France (1576).

The name of the designer of Longleat is unknown; the master mason was Robert Smithson, who went to Wollaton in Nottinghamshire in 1580 and built the mansion there. Longleat has such an Italian style that it must have been designed by someone who had been to Italy, as it strays from the typical English design. The layout is rectangular, measuring 220 ft. across the front and 180 ft. deep, with a central entrance porch and two projecting bays on each side, extending through three stories, plus three similar bays on the sides. The entire structure is topped with a parapet, with the central part featuring a balustrade, but the main cornice does not resemble the Italian style, resembling only the entablature of the upper order. The projecting bays are adorned with pilasters in Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian styles, each with their distinct entablature. These classic elements seem to have been inspired by a work by John Shute, a painter and architect who was sent to Italy by the Duke of Northumberland in 1551, later publishing his Chief Groundes of Architecture in 1563, the first practical book on architecture published in English. Shute died that same year, but two other editions came out in 1579 and 1584, indicating it had wide circulation and likely had a huge impact on English architecture. A second book on the orders, published in 1577 by Jan Vredeman de Vries of Antwerp, was different, as it didn't just depict the Classic orders like Shute and Serlio. Instead, it included designs of a more debased rococo style on the columns and pedestals, with extra plates showing how they could be applied to various buildings. Robert Smithson, or his client Sir Fr. Willoughby, probably got a copy of this book, and the result can be seen (Plate VI., fig. 76) in the mansion built at Wollaton (1580-1588), where we find the first examples of intricately decorated pedestals; crestings on the corner towers known as strap-work; and medallions with busts surrounded by twisted forms akin to how flowers and leaves look when they catch fire. However, the plan and design scheme of Wollaton is so far beyond the usual type that it can likely be credited to John Thorpe, an architect or surveyor, whose extensive collection of drawings in the Soane Museum represents many significant mansions from the Elizabethan period; some of his own designs, others based on building measurements he reported on, copies from various sources, and some reproduced from published works like Vredeman de Vries’s pattern book and Androuet du Cerceau’s Des plus excellents bastiments de France (1576).

To John Thorpe is also attributed the design of Kirby Hall (1570-1572) in Northamptonshire, in which the plan of the feudal castle with great central court is still retained. This court is symmetrically designed, and was evidently considered to be the principal feature, the decoration being far richer than that of the exterior of the building.

To John Thorpe is also credited with the design of Kirby Hall (1570-1572) in Northamptonshire, where the layout of the feudal castle with a large central courtyard is still preserved. This courtyard is symmetrically designed and was clearly viewed as the main feature, with decoration that is much more elaborate than the exterior of the building.

Amongst other important mansions are Moreton Old Hall (1550-1559, partly rebuilt in 1602; see House, Plate III., fig. 11) in Cheshire, a fine house in half-timber; Knole House, Kent (1570), possibly also designed by John Thorpe; Charlecote Hall (1572) near Stratford-on-Avon; Burleigh House, Northamptonshire (1575), the most remarkable feature in which is the great tower in the courtyard, decorated with the Doric, Ionic and Corinthian orders superposed, the design apparently suggested by a similar feature in the château of Anet, France (published in du Cerceau); Apethorpe Hall, Northamptonshire (1580); Montacute House, Somersetshire (1580-1600); Castle Ashby, Northamptonshire (1583-1589); Brereton Hall, Cheshire (1575-1586), in brick and stone; Westwood Park, Worcestershire (1590); Wakehurst Place, Sussex (1590); Hardwick Hall, Derbyshire (1590-1597); Longford Castle, Wiltshire (1591-1612); Cobham Hall, Kent (1594); Dorton House, Buckinghamshire (1596); Speke Hall, Lancashire (1598), partly in half-timber work; Holland House, Kensington (1606; wings and arcades, 1624); Bolsover Castle, Derbyshire (1607-1613); Charlton House, Kent (1607); Bramshill, Hampshire (1607-1612), an interesting example of Jacobean architecture; Hatfield, Hertfordshire (1608-1611), with an extremely fine courtyard (north side in brick and stone, 1621); Audley End, Essex (1610-1616), a great portion of which was afterwards pulled down; Ham House, Surrey (1610), chiefly in brick; Pinkie House, at Musselburgh in Midlothian (1613); Aston Hall near Birmingham (1618-1635); Blickling Hall, Norfolk (1619); Heriot’s hospital, Edinburgh (1628-1659); and Lanhydroc, Cornwall (1636-1641), which brings us down to the period of the pure Italian Revival introduced by Inigo Jones.

Among other significant mansions are Moreton Old Hall (1550-1559, partly rebuilt in 1602; see House, Plate III., fig. 11) in Cheshire, a beautiful half-timbered house; Knole House, Kent (1570), possibly also designed by John Thorpe; Charlecote Hall (1572) near Stratford-on-Avon; Burleigh House, Northamptonshire (1575), which features a striking tower in the courtyard adorned with Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian orders stacked on top of each other, inspired by a similar element in the château of Anet, France (published in du Cerceau); Apethorpe Hall, Northamptonshire (1580); Montacute House, Somerset (1580-1600); Castle Ashby, Northamptonshire (1583-1589); Brereton Hall, Cheshire (1575-1586), constructed of brick and stone; Westwood Park, Worcestershire (1590); Wakehurst Place, Sussex (1590); Hardwick Hall, Derbyshire (1590-1597); Longford Castle, Wiltshire (1591-1612); Cobham Hall, Kent (1594); Dorton House, Buckinghamshire (1596); Speke Hall, Lancashire (1598), partly featuring half-timber work; Holland House, Kensington (1606; wings and arcades, 1624); Bolsover Castle, Derbyshire (1607-1613); Charlton House, Kent (1607); Bramshill, Hampshire (1607-1612), an interesting example of Jacobean architecture; Hatfield, Hertfordshire (1608-1611), with an extremely fine courtyard (north side in brick and stone, 1621); Audley End, Essex (1610-1616), a large portion of which was later demolished; Ham House, Surrey (1610), mainly made of brick; Pinkie House at Musselburgh in Midlothian (1613); Aston Hall near Birmingham (1618-1635); Blickling Hall, Norfolk (1619); Heriot’s Hospital, Edinburgh (1628-1659); and Lanhydroc, Cornwall (1636-1641), leading us to the era of the pure Italian Revival introduced by Inigo Jones.

We have already referred to the reproduction of the Classic orders, superposed as an enrichment of the principal entrance doorways. In addition to Burton Agnes and Burleigh House, there are endless examples in mansions and country houses, but the most remarkable are those at Oxford: in the old Schools, where coupled columns flank the entrance gateway with the five orders superposed, and in Merton and Wadham Colleges, with four orders (the Tuscan being omitted), in neither case taking any cognizance of the levels of windows or string courses of the earlier building to which they were applied, or serving any structural purpose. The orders were all taken from one of the pattern books, and in the Schools and in Merton College the rococo ornament and strap-work found in Vredeman de Vries’s work were copied with more or less fidelity to the original. There are, however, two or three buildings in Northamptonshire which are free from rococo work, and in their design form a pleasant contrast, as much to the elaboration of the buildings just described as to the cold formality of the works of the later Italian style. Lyveden new buildings (1577), the Triangular Lodge at Rushton, and the Market House at Rothwell, are all examples in which the orders from Serlio or John Shute are faithfully represented, and are of a refined character; in the first named the entablatures only of the orders are introduced. In Rushton Hall (1595) the cresting of the bow windows shows the evil influence of Vredeman de Vries’s pattern-book and of numerous designs by him and other Belgian artists, which were printed at the Plantin press. Two other publications of a similar rococo type were brought out in Germany, one by Cammermayer (1564) and the other by Dietterlin (1594), both at Nuremberg; neither of them would seem to have been much known in England, but indirectly through German craftsmen they may have influenced some of the work of the Jacobean period, and more particularly the chimney pieces and the ceilings 419 of the gallery and other important rooms in which strap-work is found. Among the finer examples of ceilings of early date are those of Knole, Kent; Haddon Hall, Derbyshire; Sizergh Hall, Westmorland; South Wraxall Manor House, Wiltshire; the Red Lodge, Bristol; Chastleton House; and Canons Ashby—in the last three with pendants. Two of the best-designed ceilings of modest dimensions are those of the Reindeer Inn at Banbury and the Star Inn at Great Yarmouth. The principal decorative feature of the reception rooms was the chimney-piece, rising from floor to ceiling, in early examples being very simple—as those at Broughton House and Lacock Abbey—but at a later date overlaid with rococo strap-work ornament and misshapen figures, as at South Wraxall and Castle Ashby. One of the most beautiful chimney-pieces is in the ballroom at Knole, probably of Flemish design, but at Cobham Hall, Hardwick, Hatfield and Bolsover Castle are fine examples in which different-coloured marbles are employed, there being a remarkable series at the last-named place.

We’ve already talked about how the classic architectural orders were used as decoration for the main entrance doorways. Besides Burton Agnes and Burleigh House, there are countless examples in mansions and country homes, but the most notable can be found in Oxford: in the old Schools, where paired columns frame the entrance gateway with five stacked orders, and in Merton and Wadham Colleges, featuring four orders (the Tuscan is left out). In both cases, they disregard the levels of windows or string courses of the earlier buildings they were attached to, serving no structural purpose. The orders were all taken from a pattern book, and in the Schools and Merton College, the rococo ornament and strap-work inspired by Vredeman de Vries’s work were copied with varying degrees of accuracy. However, there are a couple of buildings in Northamptonshire that lack rococo work, providing a nice contrast both to the complexity of the previously described buildings and to the cold formality of later Italian styles. The Lyveden new buildings (1577), the Triangular Lodge at Rushton, and the Market House at Rothwell are all examples where the orders from Serlio or John Shute are faithfully represented, showcasing a refined character; in the first, only the entablatures of the orders are included. In Rushton Hall (1595), the cresting on the bow windows reveals the negative influence of Vredeman de Vries’s pattern book and various designs by him and other Belgian artists, which were printed at the Plantin press. Two other publications with a similar rococo style were released in Germany, one by Cammermayer (1564) and the other by Dietterlin (1594), both from Nuremberg; neither seems to have been widely recognized in England, but German craftsmen may have indirectly influenced some Jacobean work, especially regarding chimney pieces and ceilings in the gallery and other significant rooms where strap-work appears. Among the notable examples of early ceilings are those at Knole in Kent, Haddon Hall in Derbyshire, Sizergh Hall in Westmorland, South Wraxall Manor House in Wiltshire, the Red Lodge in Bristol, Chastleton House, and Canons Ashby—three of these include pendants. Two of the best-crafted ceilings of smaller sizes are found in the Reindeer Inn at Banbury and the Star Inn at Great Yarmouth. The main decorative element in reception rooms was the chimney-piece, rising from the floor to the ceiling, with early examples being quite simple, like those at Broughton House and Lacock Abbey, but later versions became overlaid with rococo strap-work decoration and distorted figures, as seen at South Wraxall and Castle Ashby. One of the most stunning chimney-pieces is in the ballroom at Knole, likely of Flemish design, while Cobham Hall, Hardwick, Hatfield, and Bolsover Castle each showcase beautiful examples using different colored marbles, especially notable at Bolsover.

The long gallery has already been incidentally mentioned. Its origin has never been clearly explained; it was generally situated in an upper storey, and may have been for exercise, like the eaves galleries in Spain. The dimensions were sometimes remarkable; one at Ampthill (no longer existing) was 245 ft. long; and a second at Audley End, 220 ft. long and 34 ft. wide. Of moderate length, the best known are those of Haddon Hall, with rich wainscotting carried up to the ceiling, Hardwick, Knole, Longleat, Blickling Hall and Sutton Place, Surrey.

The long gallery has already been mentioned. Its origin has never been clearly explained; it was usually located on an upper floor and might have been used for exercise, similar to the eaves galleries in Spain. The dimensions were sometimes impressive; one at Ampthill (which no longer exists) was 245 ft. long, and a second at Audley End was 220 ft. long and 34 ft. wide. Among the shorter ones, the most famous are those at Haddon Hall, featuring beautiful wainscoting up to the ceiling, as well as those at Hardwick, Knole, Longleat, Blickling Hall, and Sutton Place in Surrey.

In early work the staircases were occasionally in stone with circular or rectangular newels, but the more general type was that known as the open well staircase, with balustrade and newels in timber. Of these the more remarkable examples are those at Hatfield; Benthall Hall, Shropshire; Sydenham House, Devonshire; Charterhouse, London; Ockwells Manor House, Berkshire; Blickling, Norfolk; and the Old Star Inn at Lewes, Sussex.

In early designs, staircases were sometimes made of stone with circular or rectangular newels, but the more common type was the open well staircase, featuring a wooden balustrade and newels. Some of the most notable examples include those at Hatfield; Benthall Hall in Shropshire; Sydenham House in Devon; Charterhouse in London; Ockwells Manor House in Berkshire; Blickling in Norfolk; and the Old Star Inn in Lewes, Sussex.

One of the important features in the old halls was the screen separating the hall from the passage, over the latter being a gallery; the front of the screen facing the hall was considered to be its chief decoration, and was accordingly enriched with columns of the Classic orders, and balustrade or cresting over. The screens of Charterhouse (London), Trinity College (Cambridge), Wadham College (Oxford), and the Middle Temple Hall (London), are remarkable for their design and execution. The great hammer-beam roof (1562-1572) in the last named is the finest example of the Renaissance in existence (see Roofs, Plate I., fig. 25).

One of the key features in the old halls was the screen that separated the hall from the passage, with a gallery above it; the front of the screen facing the hall was seen as its main decoration and was therefore enhanced with columns in classical styles, along with a balustrade or cresting on top. The screens at Charterhouse (London), Trinity College (Cambridge), Wadham College (Oxford), and Middle Temple Hall (London) are notable for their design and craftsmanship. The impressive hammer-beam roof (1562-1572) in the latter is the finest example of Renaissance architecture still in existence (see Roofs, Plate I., fig. 25).

With the exception of chantry or other chapels added to existing buildings, there was only one church built in the period we are now describing, St John’s at Leeds. This church is divided down the centre by an arcade of pointed arches, virtually constituting a double nave, and the rood-screen is carried through both. The window tracery and the arcade show how the master-mason adhered to the traditional Gothic style, but the rood-screen, notwithstanding its rococo decoration, is a fine Jacobean work, eclipsed only by the magnificent example at Croscombe, which, with the pulpit and other church accessories, dating from 1616, constitutes the most complete example of that period.

With the exception of chantry or other chapels added to existing buildings, only one church was built during this period: St John’s in Leeds. This church is divided down the center by an arcade of pointed arches, essentially creating a double nave, and the rood-screen extends across both sides. The window designs and the arcade demonstrate how the master mason followed the traditional Gothic style, but the rood-screen, despite its rococo decoration, is a beautiful example of Jacobean design, surpassed only by the stunning example at Croscombe. That, along with the pulpit and other church features from 1616, represents the most complete example of that era.

The pure Italian style, as it is sometimes called, was introduced into France probably by Serlio, and the result of its first influence is shown in the Louvre, begun in 1546. It entered Spain about 20 years later, under the rule of Philip II., and Germany about the same time, creating about Inigo Jones. 100 years later a reaction in Spain in favour of a less cold and formal style, and scarcely taking any root in Germany. In England its first appearance does not take place till 1619, when Inigo Jones, after his second visit to Rome, designed an immense palace, measuring 1150 ft. by 900 ft., of which the only portion built was the Banqueting House in Whitehall (Plate VI., fig. 75); a fine design, in which the emphasizing of the central portion by columns in place of pilasters is an original treatment not found in Italy, but of excellent effect. Unfortunately many subsequent designs of Inigo Jones were either not carried out or have since been destroyed; but nothing approached this admirable work in Whitehall.

The pure Italian style, often referred to as such, was likely brought to France by Serlio, and its initial influence can be seen in the Louvre, which started construction in 1546. It made its way to Spain about 20 years later, during Philip II's reign, and Germany around the same time, giving rise to influences like Inigo Jones. Approximately 100 years later, Spain saw a shift toward a less cold and formal style, which hardly established itself in Germany. In England, this style first appeared in 1619 when Inigo Jones, after his second trip to Rome, designed a massive palace measuring 1150 ft. by 900 ft., of which only the Banqueting House in Whitehall was built (Plate VI., fig. 75); a remarkable design where the emphasis on the central section using columns instead of pilasters creates an original effect not found in Italy, but it works beautifully. Unfortunately, many of Inigo Jones's later designs were either never realized or have since been lost; however, nothing came close to this impressive work in Whitehall.

Among his buildings still remaining are St Paul’s, Covent Garden (1631), a simple and massive structure which requires perhaps an Italian sun to make it cheerful; York Stairs Water-gate (1626); the front of Wilton House, near Salisbury (1633); the Queen’s House, Greenwich (1617), a very poor design; Coleshill, Berkshire; Raynham Park, Norfolk, with weakly-designed gables and an entrance doorway with curved broken pediment, which can scarcely be regarded as pure Italian; and Ashburnham House, Westminster (the staircase of which is extremely fine), carried out after his death by his pupil John Webb, who, at Thorpe Hall, near Peterborough (1656), shows that he possessed some of his master’s qualities in his employment of simple and bold details.

Among his surviving buildings are St Paul’s, Covent Garden (1631), a straightforward and massive structure that likely needs an Italian sun to feel cheerful; York Stairs Water-gate (1626); the facade of Wilton House, near Salisbury (1633); the Queen’s House, Greenwich (1617), which is a rather poor design; Coleshill, Berkshire; Raynham Park, Norfolk, featuring weakly-designed gables and an entrance doorway with a curved broken pediment that can hardly be considered purely Italian; and Ashburnham House, Westminster (whose staircase is exceptionally fine), completed after his death by his student John Webb, who, at Thorpe Hall, near Peterborough (1656), demonstrates that he shared some of his master’s qualities through his use of simple and bold details.

Sir Christopher Wren, who follows, was by far the greatest architect of the Italian school, though curiously enough he had never been in Italy. His first work was the library of Pembroke College, Cambridge (1663-1664), followed by the Wren. Sheldonian theatre at Oxford, in the construction of the roof of which, with a span of 68 ft., he showed his great scientific knowledge. In 1665 he went to Paris, where he stopped six months studying the architectural buildings there and in its vicinity, and where he came across Bernini, whose designs for destroying the old Louvre (fortunately not carried out) were being started. On his return Wren occupied himself with designs for the rebuilding of the old St Paul’s, but these were rendered useless by the great fire of the 22nd of September 1666, which opened out his future career. His plan for the reconstruction of the city was not followed, owing to the opposition of the owners of the sites, but he began plans for the rebuilding of the churches and of St Paul’s cathedral. In his treatment of the former, where he was obliged to limit himself to the old sites, often very irregular, and in most cases to the old foundations, he adopted, perhaps quite unconsciously, one of the principles of ancient Roman architecture, and made the central feature the key of his plan, fitting the aisles, vestries, porches, &c., into what remained of the site; this central feature varied according to its extent and proportions, and sometimes from a desire to work out a new problem. The central dome was a favourite conception, the finest example of which is that of St Stephen’s, Walbrook (1676); other domed churches are St Mary-at-Hill, St Mildred’s, Bread Street, St Mary Abchurch (1681), where the dome virtually covers the whole area of the church, and St Swithin’s, Cannon Street, an octagonal example. In St Anne and St Agnes, Aldersgate, the crossing is covered with an intersecting barrel vault; and in this small church, about 52 ft. square with four supporting columns, he manages to get nave, transept and choir with aisles in the angles. In those churches where there was sufficient length, the ordinary arrangement of nave and aisle is adopted, with an elliptical barrel vault over the nave, sometimes intersected and lighted from clerestory windows, the finest example of these being St Bride’s, Fleet Street; other examples are St Mary-le-Bow (Cheapside), Christchurch (Newgate) and St Andrew’s (Holborn). In St James’s, Piccadilly, of which the site was a new one, the plan of nave and aisles with galleries over, and a fine internal design with barrel-vaulted ceiling, was adopted; the exterior is very simple, which suggests that Wren attached much more importance to the interior. It should be pointed out that in all these cases, the vaults, to which we have referred, were in lath and plaster, and consequently covered over with slate roofs, and as a rule the exteriors (which are rarely visible) were deemed to be of less importance. This is, however, made up for by the position selected for the towers, and in their varied design those of St Mary-le-Bow, St Bride’s (Fleet Street) and St Magnus (London Bridge) are perhaps the finest of a most remarkable series.

Sir Christopher Wren, who follows, was by far the greatest architect of the Italian school, even though it’s interesting to note he had never visited Italy. His first project was the library of Pembroke College, Cambridge (1663-1664), followed by the Sheldonian theatre at Oxford, where he showcased his extensive knowledge by constructing a roof with a span of 68 ft. In 1665, he traveled to Paris, where he spent six months studying the architecture there and nearby, and he encountered Bernini, who was starting his designs for the demolition of the old Louvre (thankfully not executed). Upon his return, Wren focused on designs for rebuilding the old St Paul’s, but those plans were rendered useless by the great fire on September 22, 1666, which reshaped his future career. His proposal for reconstructing the city wasn't adopted due to the resistance from property owners, but he began planning for rebuilding churches and St Paul’s cathedral. In his approach to the churches, where he had to stick to the old sites, which were often quite irregular and mostly based on previous foundations, he unconsciously embraced a principle of ancient Roman architecture by making the central feature the focal point of his design. He fit the aisles, vestries, porches, etc., into whatever remained of the site; this central element varied depending on its size and proportions, and at times, due to a desire to tackle a new challenge. The central dome was a favored concept, with the most notable example being St Stephen’s, Walbrook (1676). Other domed churches include St Mary-at-Hill, St Mildred’s, Bread Street, and St Mary Abchurch (1681), where the dome nearly covers the entire church area, as well as St Swithin’s, Cannon Street, an octagonal design. In St Anne and St Agnes, Aldersgate, the crossing features an intersecting barrel vault; in this small church, measuring about 52 ft. square with four supporting columns, he successfully incorporated a nave, transept, and choir with aisles in the corners. Where there was enough length, the typical arrangement of a nave and aisle was used, with an elliptical barrel vault above the nave, sometimes intersected and illuminated by clerestory windows; the best example of this arrangement is St Bride’s, Fleet Street, with others including St Mary-le-Bow (Cheapside), Christchurch (Newgate), and St Andrew’s (Holborn). At St James’s, Piccadilly, a new site, he implemented a plan with a nave and aisles along with galleries above, featuring an impressive internal design with a barrel-vaulted ceiling; the exterior is very simple, suggesting that Wren prioritized the interior much more. It’s important to note that in all these instances, the vaults mentioned were made of lath and plaster, and thus were covered with slate roofs, typically resulting in the exteriors (which are rarely visible) being considered of lesser importance. However, this is compensated for by the strategic placement of the towers, and among their varied designs, those of St Mary-le-Bow, St Bride’s (Fleet Street), and St Magnus (London Bridge) are perhaps the finest in a truly remarkable series.

The foundation stone of St Paul’s cathedral was laid in 1675, and the lantern was finished in 1710. The silhouette of the dome (Plate II., fig. 66), which is, of course, its principal feature, is far superior to those of St Peter’s at Rome, or the Invalides or Panthéon at Paris, and the problem of its construction with the central lantern was solved much more satisfactorily than in any other example. Wren realized that the attempt to render a dome beautiful internally as well as externally could only be obtained by having three shells in its construction; the inner one for inside effect, the outer one to give greater prominence externally, and the third, of conical form, to support the lantern.

The foundation stone of St Paul’s Cathedral was laid in 1675, and the lantern was completed in 1710. The shape of the dome (Plate II., fig. 66), which is its main feature, is far superior to those of St Peter’s in Rome or the Invalides or Panthéon in Paris, and the way it was built with the central lantern was resolved much more successfully than in any other example. Wren understood that creating a dome that looked beautiful both inside and outside could only be achieved by using three layers in its construction: the inner one for the interior effect, the outer one for better external visibility, and the third, which is cone-shaped, to support the lantern.

In plan, Wren’s design (fig. 53) was in accordance with the traditional arrangement of an English cathedral, with nave, north and south transepts and choir, in all cases with side aisles, and a small apse to the choir. The great dome over the crossing is, like the octagon at Ely, of the same width as nave and aisles together. It resembles the plan of that cathedral also in the four great arches opening into nave, transepts and choir, with smaller arches between. Instead of the great barrel vault of St Peter’s, Rome, Wren introduced a series of cupolas over the main arms of the cathedral, which enabled him to light the same with clerestory windows; these are not visible on the exterior, as they are masked by the upper storey which Wren carried round the whole structure, in order, probably, to give it greater height and importance; by its weight, however, it serves to resist the thrust of the vaults transmitted by buttresses across the aisles. The grouping of the two lanterns on the west front 420 with the central dome is extremely fine; the west portico is not satisfactory, but the semicircular porticoes of the north and south transepts are very beautiful features. Greater importance is given to the cathedral by raising it on a podium about 12 ft. above the level of the pavement outside, which enables the crypt under the whole cathedral to be lighted by side windows.

In layout, Wren’s design (fig. 53) followed the traditional structure of an English cathedral, featuring a nave, north and south transepts, and a choir, all with side aisles and a small apse for the choir. The grand dome over the crossing, like the octagon at Ely, is the same width as the nave and aisles combined. It also resembles the plan of that cathedral with the four large arches leading into the nave, transepts, and choir, with smaller arches in between. Instead of the large barrel vault of St. Peter’s in Rome, Wren incorporated a series of cupolas over the main arms of the cathedral, allowing for light from clerestory windows; these aren’t visible from the outside because they are concealed by the upper story that Wren extended around the entire structure, likely to give it more height and significance. However, this addition helps resist the thrust of the vaults transferred by buttresses across the aisles. The arrangement of the two lanterns on the west front with the central dome is very impressive; the west portico, however, doesn’t meet expectations, while the semicircular porticoes of the north and south transepts are stunning features. The cathedral is given more prominence by elevating it on a podium about 12 ft. above the outside pavement level, which allows the crypt beneath the cathedral to be illuminated by side windows.

The principal examples of the churches which followed are those of St George’s, Bloomsbury; St Mary Woolnoth; Christ Church, Spitalfields, by Nicholas Hawksmoor; and St Mary-le-Strand (1714), and St Martin’s-in-the-Fields (1721), by James Gibbs. Gibbs’s interiors are second only to those of Wren, while Hawksmoor’s are very weak; in both cases, however, the exteriors are finely designed. Amongst subsequent works are St John’s, Westminster, and St Philips, Birmingham (1710), by Thomas Archer; St George’s, Hanover Square (1713-1714), by John James; All Saints’ church, Oxford, by Dean Aldrich; St Giles-in-the-Fields (1731), by Henry Flitcroft; and St Leonard’s, Shoreditch (1736), by George Dance.

The main examples of the churches that followed are St George’s in Bloomsbury; St Mary Woolnoth; Christ Church in Spitalfields, designed by Nicholas Hawksmoor; and St Mary-le-Strand (1714) and St Martin’s-in-the-Fields (1721), designed by James Gibbs. Gibbs’s interiors are only slightly behind those of Wren, while Hawksmoor’s interiors are quite lacking; in both cases, though, the exteriors are beautifully designed. Among later works are St John’s in Westminster and St Philip’s in Birmingham (1710), by Thomas Archer; St George’s in Hanover Square (1713-1714), by John James; All Saints’ Church in Oxford, by Dean Aldrich; St Giles-in-the-Fields (1731), by Henry Flitcroft; and St Leonard’s in Shoreditch (1736), by George Dance.

Fig. 53.—Plan of St Paul’s Cathedral, London.

Sir Christopher Wren’s chief monumental work was Greenwich hospital, in the arrangement of which he had to include the Queen’s House, and a block already begun on the west side. His solution was of the most brilliant kind, and seen from the river the grouping of the several blocks with the colonnade and cupolas of the two central ones is admirable.

Sir Christopher Wren's main monumental project was Greenwich Hospital, where he had to incorporate the Queen's House and a building that had already started on the west side. His solution was exceptionally brilliant, and when viewed from the river, the arrangement of the various blocks along with the colonnade and domes of the two central ones is impressive.

Wren’s next great work was the alterations and additions to Hampton Court palace, begun in 1689, the east front facing the park (Plate VI., fig. 77), the south front facing the river, the fountain court and the colonnade opposite the great hall. Chelsea hospital (1682-1692), the south front (now destroyed) to Christ’s hospital (1692), and Winchester school (1684-1687), are all examples in brick with stone quoins, cornices, door and window dressings, which show how Wren managed with simple materials to give a monumental effect. The library which he built in Trinity College, Cambridge (1678), with arcades on two storeys divided by three-quarter detached columns of the Doric and Ionic orders, is based on the same principle of design as those in the court of the Farnese palace at Rome by Sangallo, a part of the palace which is not likely to have been known by him.

Wren's next major project was the renovations and additions to Hampton Court Palace, which started in 1689. This included the east front facing the park (Plate VI., fig. 77), the south front facing the river, the fountain court, and the colonnade opposite the great hall. Chelsea Hospital (1682-1692), the south front (which is now destroyed) of Christ's Hospital (1692), and Winchester School (1684-1687) are all examples made of brick with stone quoins, cornices, and decorative door and window details. These works demonstrate how Wren was able to create a monumental effect using simple materials. The library he built at Trinity College, Cambridge (1678), featuring arcades on two levels supported by three-quarter detached columns in the Doric and Ionic styles, is designed based on the same principles as those in the courtyard of the Farnese Palace in Rome by Sangallo, a section of the palace that he is unlikely to have known.

The results of the Italian Revival in domestic architecture were not altogether satisfactory, for although it is sometimes claimed that the style was adapted by its architects to the traditional requirements and customs of the English people, the contrary will be found if they are compared with the work of the 16th century. The chief aim seems to have been generally to produce a great display of Classic features, which, even supposing they followed more closely the ancient models, were quite superfluous and generally interfered with the lighting of the chief rooms, which were sacrificed to them. In fact there are many cases in which one cannot help feeling how much better the effect would be if the great porticoes rising through two storeys were removed. This is specially the case in Sir John Vanbrugh’s mansion, Seaton Delaval, in Northumberland (1720); his other works, Blenheim (1714) and Castle Howard (1702), are vulgarized also by the employment of the large orders. The same defect exists in Stoneleigh Abbey, Leamington, where the orders carried up through two and three storeys respectively destroy the scale of the whole structure.

The outcomes of the Italian Revival in home design were not entirely satisfactory. While some argue that architects adapted the style to meet the traditional needs and habits of the English people, a comparison with 16th-century work reveals the opposite. The main goal seems to have been to showcase a lot of Classic elements, which, even if they were more closely aligned with ancient models, were unnecessary and often compromised the lighting in the main rooms that were sacrificed for them. In fact, there are many instances where it’s hard not to think how much better the overall look would be without the grand porticoes extending through two stories. This is especially true in Sir John Vanbrugh’s mansion, Seaton Delaval, in Northumberland (1720); his other projects, Blenheim (1714) and Castle Howard (1702), are also diminished by the use of large orders. The same issue can be seen in Stoneleigh Abbey, Leamington, where the orders rising through two and three stories respectively ruin the scale of the entire building.

Among other mansions, the principal examples are Houghton in Norfolk (1723), a fine work, the villa at Mereworth in imitation of the Villa Capra near Vicenza, and the front of old Burlington House (1718), copied from the Porto palace at Vicenza, by Colin Campbell; Holkham in Norfolk and Devonshire House, London, by William Kent; Ditchley in Oxfordshire, and Milton House near Peterborough, by Gibbs; Chesterfield House, London, by Isaac Ware; Wentworth House in Yorkshire (1740), and Woburn Abbey in Bedfordshire (1747), by Henry Flitcroft; Spencer House, London (1762), by John Vardy; Prior Park and various works in Bath by John Wood; the Mansion House, London, by George Dance; Wardour in Wiltshire, Kedleston Hall in Derbyshire, and Worksop in Nottinghamshire (1763), by James Paine; Gopsall Hall, Ely House, Dover Street, London (1772), and Heveringham Hall in Suffolk, by Sir Robert Taylor, to whose munificence we owe the Taylor Buildings at Oxford; Harewood House in Yorkshire (1760), Lytham Hall in Lancashire, and (part of) Wentworth House in Yorkshire, by John Carr; and Luton Hoo (1767), now largely reconstructed, and Sion House (1761), the best-known mansions by Robert Adam, who with his brothers built the Adelphi and many houses in London. Adam designed a type of decoration in stucco for ceilings and mantelpieces, the dies of which are still in existence and are utilized extensively in modern houses. His labours were not confined to buildings, but extended to their decoration, furniture and fittings.

Among other mansions, the main examples are Houghton in Norfolk (1723), a beautiful work, the villa at Mereworth modeled after the Villa Capra near Vicenza, and the facade of old Burlington House (1718), which was copied from the Porto palace at Vicenza by Colin Campbell; Holkham in Norfolk and Devonshire House in London, designed by William Kent; Ditchley in Oxfordshire, and Milton House near Peterborough, created by Gibbs; Chesterfield House in London, designed by Isaac Ware; Wentworth House in Yorkshire (1740), and Woburn Abbey in Bedfordshire (1747), by Henry Flitcroft; Spencer House in London (1762), by John Vardy; Prior Park and various works in Bath by John Wood; the Mansion House in London, by George Dance; Wardour in Wiltshire, Kedleston Hall in Derbyshire, and Worksop in Nottinghamshire (1763), by James Paine; Gopsall Hall, Ely House, Dover Street, London (1772), and Heveringham Hall in Suffolk, by Sir Robert Taylor, to whom we owe the Taylor Buildings at Oxford; Harewood House in Yorkshire (1760), Lytham Hall in Lancashire, and a part of Wentworth House in Yorkshire, by John Carr; and Luton Hoo (1767), which has been largely reconstructed, and Sion House (1761), the most well-known mansions by Robert Adam, who, along with his brothers, built the Adelphi and many houses in London. Adam designed a style of stucco decoration for ceilings and mantelpieces, the molds for which still exist and are widely used in modern homes. His work went beyond buildings to include their decoration, furniture, and fixtures.

The works of Sir William Chambers were of a most varied nature, but his fame is chiefly based on Somerset House in the Strand, London (1776), with its façade facing the river, a magnificent work second only to Inigo Jones’s Whitehall, but infinitely more extensive and difficult to design. He was also the author of a work on The Decorative Part of Civil Architecture, which is still the standard work on the subject in England. His pupil, James Gandon, won the first gold medal given by the Royal Academy in 1769, and his principal work was the Custom House in Dublin (1781). Newgate prison (1770), a remarkable building now destroyed, was the chief work carried out by George Dance, jun.

The works of Sir William Chambers were incredibly diverse, but he is mainly renowned for Somerset House in the Strand, London (1776), which features a stunning river-facing façade. It’s a magnificent piece, second only to Inigo Jones’s Whitehall, but far more extensive and complex to design. He also wrote a book on The Decorative Part of Civil Architecture, which remains the authoritative work on the topic in England. His student, James Gandon, received the first gold medal awarded by the Royal Academy in 1769, with his major project being the Custom House in Dublin (1781). Newgate prison (1770), an impressive building that has since been demolished, was the primary work of George Dance, junior.

Other buildings not yet mentioned are the Alcove and Banqueting Hall (Orangery) of Kensington Palace, by Wren; the Radcliffe library, Oxford, by Gibbs, an extremely fine work both externally and internally; Queen’s College, Oxford, by Hawksmoor; the county hall, Northampton, by Sir Roger Norwich; the town hall, Abingdon (1677), designer unknown; the Ashmolean museum, Oxford (1677), by T. Wood; Clare College, Cambridge, and St Catherine’s Hall, Cambridge (1640-1679), by Thomas and Robert Grumboll, master-masons; the custom house, King’s Lynn (1681), by Henry Bell; Nottingham Castle, designed by the duke of Newcastle in 1674 and carried out by March, his clerk of works—the central portion is finely proportioned, and it is only in the pilasters at the quoins that one recognizes the amateur; two houses in Cavendish Square, London (1717), on the north side, by John James; Lord Burlington’s villa (1740) at Chiswick, by William Kent, which with its internal decorations is still perfect; the celebrated Palladian Bridge at Wilton, by R. Morris; and last but not least, in consequence of its great influence on modern architecture, Sparrowe’s house at Ipswich (1567-1662), the timber oriel windows of which are now so often reproduced.

Other buildings not yet mentioned include the Alcove and Banqueting Hall (Orangery) of Kensington Palace, designed by Wren; the Radcliffe Library in Oxford, created by Gibbs, which is an exceptional work both on the outside and inside; Queen’s College in Oxford, designed by Hawksmoor; the County Hall in Northampton by Sir Roger Norwich; the Town Hall in Abingdon (1677), designer unknown; the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford (1677), by T. Wood; Clare College in Cambridge, and St. Catherine’s Hall in Cambridge (1640-1679), crafted by Thomas and Robert Grumboll, master masons; the Custom House in King’s Lynn (1681), by Henry Bell; Nottingham Castle, designed by the Duke of Newcastle in 1674 and built by March, his clerk of works—the central part is beautifully proportioned, and it's only in the pilasters at the corners where you can see the amateur touch; two houses in Cavendish Square, London (1717), on the north side, by John James; Lord Burlington’s villa (1740) at Chiswick, by William Kent, which with its internal decorations remains flawless; the famous Palladian Bridge at Wilton, by R. Morris; and last but not least, due to its significant impact on modern architecture, Sparrowe’s House in Ipswich (1567-1662), featuring timber oriel windows that are now frequently replicated.

(R. P. S.)

Renaissance Architecture in Germany

German Renaissance Architecture

The classical revival does not seem to have taken root in Germany much before the middle of the 16th century, some forty to fifty years later than in France, from which country it is said to have been introduced, and in some of the early work there is a great similarity to French examples, but without the refinement and variety of detail which one finds in the châteaux of the Loire and in many of the French towns. In the rood-screen of the cathedral at Hildesheim (1546), the court of the town hall at Görlitz (1534), the portal of the Petershof at Halberstadt 421 (1552), and the entrance gateway of the castle at Brieg (1553), one is able to recognize certain ornamental details and a similar superposition of pilasters in several storeys to that which is found in various towns in Normandy and on the Loire. In both countries the new style was engrafted on the last phase of the Gothic period, so forming at first a transitional style, which lasted about fifty years. Thus the lofty roofs which prevailed in the 15th century are developed further, but with this great divergence in the two countries. In France there are rarely gable ends, in Germany they are not only the chief characteristic feature of the main front, but are introduced in the side elevations in the shape of immense dormers with two or three storeys and rising the full height of the roof, as in the castle at Hämelschenburg near Hameln. Throughout Germany, therefore, the gable end and the dormer gable became the chief features on which they lavished all their ornamental designs, the main walls of the building being as a rule either in plain masonry, rubble masonry with stucco facing, or brick and stone. Other prominent features are the octagonal and circular oriel windows rising through two or three storeys at the corners of their buildings—rectangular bow windows in two or three storeys, which were allowed apparently to encroach on the pavement, and octagonal turrets or towers instead of circular as in France. In the vicinity of the Harz mountains, where timber was plentiful, a large proportion of the factories, houses and even public buildings, are erected in half-timber work with elaborate carving of the door and window jambs, projecting corbels, &c. At Hildesheim, Wernigerode, Goslar, &c., these structures are sometimes of immense size and richly decorated. Among early examples in stone, the porch added to the town hall of Cologne (1571), the projecting wings of the town halls at Halberstadt and Lemgo (1565), and the town halls at Posen (1550), Altenburg (1562-1567) and Rothenburg (1572-1590), are all picturesque examples more or less refined in design. In the last-named example the purer Italian style has exercised its influence in the principal doorway and in the arcaded gallery on the east front. This same influence shows itself in the courtyard of the town hall at Nuremberg, where the arcades of the two upper storeys might be taken for those of the courts of the palaces at Rome.

The classical revival didn't really take hold in Germany until around the mid-16th century, about forty to fifty years later than in France, where it’s said to have originated. Some early works show a strong resemblance to French designs, but lack the refinement and variety of detail found in the châteaux of the Loire and many French towns. In the rood-screen of the Hildesheim cathedral (1546), the town hall court at Görlitz (1534), the portal of the Petershof at Halberstadt (1552), and the entrance gateway of the castle at Brieg (1553), you can see certain ornamental details and a similar stacked pilaster style similar to what can be found in various towns in Normandy and on the Loire. In both countries, this new style was grafted onto the last phase of the Gothic period, creating an initial transitional style that lasted about fifty years. The tall roofs that were popular in the 15th century evolved further, but with significant differences between the two countries. In France, gable ends are rare, while in Germany, they are not only the main characteristic of the facade but are also featured on the side elevations as massive dormers with two or three stories rising the full roof height, as seen in the castle at Hämelschenburg near Hameln. Therefore, across Germany, gable ends and dormer gables became the primary elements where they showcased all their decorative designs, with the main walls typically being simple masonry, rubble masonry with stucco facing, or a mix of brick and stone. Other notable features include octagonal and circular oriel windows extending two or three stories at the corners of buildings—rectangular bow windows in two or three stories that seem to encroach on the pavement, and octagonal turrets or towers instead of circular ones like in France. Close to the Harz mountains, where timber was abundant, many factories, houses, and even public buildings were built in half-timber style with intricate carving on door and window frames, projecting corbels, etc. In Hildesheim, Wernigerode, Goslar, and other locations, these structures are often quite large and richly adorned. Among the early stone examples, the porch added to the Cologne town hall (1571), the projecting wings of the town halls at Halberstadt and Lemgo (1565), and the town halls at Posen (1550), Altenburg (1562-1567), and Rothenburg (1572-1590) are all picturesque examples, varying in their level of design refinement. In the last-mentioned example, the purer Italian style can be seen in the main doorway and the arcade gallery on the east front. This influence is also evident in the courtyard of the Nuremberg town hall, where the arcades on the two upper floors could easily be mistaken for those of the courts in palaces in Rome.

Amongst other 16th-century work there are two entrance gates at Danzig, the Hohe Tor (1588), a fine massive structure, and the Langgasse Tor (1600), more or less pure Italian in style. At Augsburg, the arsenal (1603-1607), by the architect Elias Holl (1573-1646), is of a bold and original design, and the town hall has magnificent ceilings and wainscotting round the walls of the principal halls. This brings us to the castle of Heidelberg (Plate VII., figs. 78, 79 and 80), which is looked upon by the Germans as the chef d’œuvre of the Renaissance in Germany. As seen from the great court it forms an interesting study, there being the work of three periods: in the centre the picturesque group of the older building (c. 1525), on the right the Otto-Heinrichs-Bau (1556-1559), and on the left the Friedrichs-Bau (1602-1607). Of the two the latter is the finer. The architect of the Otto-Heinrichs-Bau would seem to have been undecided whether to give greater prominence and projection to his pilasters and cornices or to his windows with their dressings and pediments, so he has compromised the matter by making them both about the same, and the effect is most monotonous. In the Friedrichs-Bau, which is a remarkable work, the pilasters are of great projection, with bold cornices and simple windows well set back, while the tracery of the ground-floor windows is a pleasant relief from the constant repetition of pilaster window dressings. The gables also of the Friedrichs-Bau break the horizontal sky-line agreeably. A more minute examination of the decorative details, however, betrays the advent of a peculiar rococo style of a most debased type, which throughout the 17th century spread through Germany, and the repetition of the same details suggests that it was copied from some of the pattern books which were published towards the end of the 16th century, comprising heterogeneous designs for title pages, door heads, frontispieces, and even extending to new versions of the orders, which apparently appealed to the German mason and saved him the trouble of invention. These books, compiled by de Vries and Dietterlin, emanated from the Low Countries, and their influence extended to England during the Elizabethan period. At all events in Germany it would seem to have arrested the purer Italian work, which we have already noticed, and henceforth in the gable ends one finds the most extraordinary accumulation of distorted forms which, though sometimes picturesque, disfigure the German work of the 17th century. An exception might perhaps be made in favour of the Peller’sche Haus in Nuremberg (1625), one of the best houses of modest dimensions in Germany. The façade in the Aegidien-Platz is a fine composition; inside is a very picturesque court and staircase, and the painted ceiling and the wainscotting of one of the rooms in woods of different colours, though not very pure in style, are of excellent design and execution.

Among other 16th-century works, there are two entrance gates in Danzig: the Hohe Tor (1588), a solid and impressive structure, and the Langgasse Tor (1600), which features a mostly Italian style. In Augsburg, the arsenal (1603-1607), designed by architect Elias Holl (1573-1646), showcases a bold and original design, and the town hall boasts magnificent ceilings and paneling around the walls of its main halls. This leads us to the Heidelberg castle (Plate VII., figs. 78, 79, and 80), which Germans regard as the masterpiece of the Renaissance in Germany. From the large courtyard, it presents an interesting study, reflecting three periods of work: the picturesque group of the older building (c. 1525) in the center, the Otto-Heinrichs-Bau (1556-1559) on the right, and the Friedrichs-Bau (1602-1607) on the left. Of the two, the Friedrichs-Bau is the more impressive. The architect of the Otto-Heinrichs-Bau seems to have been uncertain about whether to emphasize the pilasters and cornices or the windows with their trim and pediments. As a compromise, he made both elements similar in prominence, resulting in a monotonous effect. In contrast, the Friedrichs-Bau, which is an outstanding work, features highly projecting pilasters, bold cornices, and simple windows set back, while the tracery of the ground-floor windows provides a pleasant relief from the repetitive pilaster designs. The gables of the Friedrichs-Bau also break the horizontal skyline nicely. However, a closer look at the decorative details reveals the emergence of a peculiar and somewhat lower-quality rococo style that spread throughout Germany in the 17th century. The repetition of the same details suggests it was copied from some pattern books published towards the end of the 16th century, which contained various designs for title pages, door heads, frontispieces, and even new interpretations of classical orders, appealing to German craftsmen and easing the burden of creativity. These books, compiled by de Vries and Dietterlin, originated from the Low Countries and their influence extended to England during the Elizabethan era. In Germany, it seems to have interrupted the purer Italian style we previously noted, leading to the most extraordinary accumulation of distorted forms in gable ends, which, although sometimes picturesque, mar the German architecture of the 17th century. An exception might be the Peller’sche Haus in Nuremberg (1625), one of the finest modest houses in Germany. The façade in Aegidien-Platz is a beautiful composition; inside, there's a very picturesque courtyard and staircase, and the painted ceiling and the paneling of one of the rooms, made from different colored woods, while not very pure in style, are of excellent design and craftsmanship.

Some of the most characteristic work of this type exists at Hameln, where the façades of the Rattenfängerhaus (1602), the Hochzeitshaus (1610), and many other buildings, are covered with the most extraordinary devices, leaving scarcely a foot of plain masonry as a relief. The south front of the town hall of Bremen (1612) is in the same style (Plate IV., fig. 70), relieved, however, by the fine large windows of the great hall and the arcade in front, in which there is some picturesque detail. Later in the century the degradation increases until it reaches its climax in the Zwinger palace at Dresden (1711), the most terrible rococo work ever conceived, if we except some of the Churrigueresque work in Spain.

Some of the most distinctive examples of this style can be found in Hameln, where the facades of the Rattenfängerhaus (1602), the Hochzeitshaus (1610), and many other buildings are adorned with remarkable decorations, leaving hardly any plain masonry visible. The south front of the Bremen town hall (1612) features a similar style (Plate IV., fig. 70), but is softened by the large windows of the great hall and the arcade in front, which includes some charming details. Later in the century, the decline in quality becomes more pronounced, peaking with the Zwinger palace in Dresden (1711), which is arguably the most egregious example of rococo design, unless we consider some of the Churrigueresque work in Spain.

Among the most pleasing features in Germany are the fountains which abound in every town; of these there are good examples at Tübingen, Prague, Hildesheim, Ulm, Nuremberg, already famed for its Gothic fountains, Mainz and Rothenburg. In the latter town, built on an eminence, they are of great importance for the supply of the town, and some of them are extremely picturesque and of good design.

Among the most enjoyable sights in Germany are the fountains that can be found in every town; notable examples can be seen in Tübingen, Prague, Hildesheim, Ulm, Nuremberg, which is already famous for its Gothic fountains, Mainz, and Rothenburg. In Rothenburg, which is located on a hillside, the fountains are essential for supplying the town, and many of them are very picturesque and well-designed.

Up to the present we have said nothing about the ecclesiastical buildings in Germany, for the reason that the period between the Reformation and the conclusion of the Thirty Years’ War was not favourable to church building. The only example worth mentioning is the church of St Michael at Munich (1583-1597), and that more for its plan than for its architecture. It has a wide nave covered with a barrel vault, and a series of chapels forming semicircular recesses on each side, the walls between acting as buttresses to the great vault. The transept is not deep enough to have any architectural value, but if at the east end there had been only an apse it would have been a better termination than the long choir. The Liebfrauenkirche at Dresden (1726-1745) has a good plan, but internally is arranged like a theatre with pit, tiers of boxes, and a gallery, all in the worst possible taste, and externally the dome is far too high and destroys the scale of the lower part of the church. An elliptical dome is never a pleasing object, and in the church of St Charles Borromeo, at Vienna, there are no other features to redeem its ugliness. The Marienkirche at Wolfenbüttel (1608-1622) has a fine Italian portal; its side elevation is spoilt by the series of gable dormers, which are of no possible use, as the church (of the Hallenkirchen type) is well lighted through the aisle windows. The portal of the Schlosskapelle (1555) at Dresden is a fine work in the Italian style; and lastly the church at Bückeburg, in a late debased style, is redeemed only by the fact that it is built in fine masonry and that the joints run through all the rococo details.

Up to now, we haven't talked about the church buildings in Germany because the time between the Reformation and the end of the Thirty Years’ War wasn’t great for constructing churches. The only notable example is St. Michael's Church in Munich (1583-1597), more for its design than its architecture. It features a spacious nave with a barrel vault and a series of chapels that create semicircular recesses on each side, with the walls in between serving as buttresses for the large vault. The transept isn’t deep enough to have any architectural significance, and if the east end had only an apse, it would have ended better than the long choir. The Liebfrauenkirche in Dresden (1726-1745) has a solid design, but inside it’s laid out like a theater with a pit, tiers of boxes, and a gallery, all in really poor taste, and externally, the dome is way too high, throwing off the scale of the lower part of the church. An elliptical dome is never a good sight, and in St. Charles Borromeo Church in Vienna, there are no features that improve its unattractiveness. The Marienkirche in Wolfenbüttel (1608-1622) boasts a beautiful Italian portal, although its side view is ruined by a row of gable dormers that serve no purpose since the church (of the Hallenkirchen type) is well lit through the aisle windows. The portal of the Schlosskapelle (1555) in Dresden is a fine Italian-style work; finally, the church in Bückeburg, in a later degraded style, is only saved by its high-quality masonry and the way the joints continue through all the rococo decorations.

(R. P. S.)

Renaissance Architecture In Belgium And Holland

Renaissance Architecture in Belgium and the Netherlands

The Gothic development in the 15th century in Belgium, as evidenced in her magnificent town halls and other public buildings, not only supplied her requirements in the century following, but hindered the introduction of the Classic Revival, so that it is not till the second half of the 16th century that we find in the town hall of Antwerp a building which is perhaps more Italian in design than any work in Germany. There are, however, a few instances of earlier Renaissance, such as the Salm Inn (1534) at Malines; the magnificent chimneypiece, by Conrad van Noremberger of Namur, in the council chamber of the palais de justice at Bruges (1529); and the palais de justice of Liége (1533), formerly the bishop’s palace, in the court of which are features suggesting a Spanish influence. The influence of the cinque-cento style of Italy may be noticed in the tomb of the count de Borgnival (1533) in the cathedral of Breda, and in the choir stalls of the church at Enkhuisen on the borders of the Zuyder Zee, both in Holland, and in the choir stalls of the cathedral of Ypres in Belgium; the carving of these bears so close a resemblance to cinque-cento work in design and execution that one might conclude they were the work of Italian artists, but their authors are known to have been Flemish, who must, however, have studied in Italy. Again, in the stained-glass windows of the church of St Jacques at Liége, the details are all cinque-cento, with circular arches on columns, festoons of leaves and other ornament, all apparently derived from Italian sources, but necessarily executed by Flemish painters, as stained-glass windows of that type are not often found in Italian churches.

The Gothic style that developed in 15th-century Belgium, shown in its stunning town halls and other public buildings, not only met the needs of the following century but also slowed down the arrival of the Classic Revival. It's not until the second half of the 16th century that we see in the town hall of Antwerp a structure that is arguably more Italian in design than any work in Germany. However, there are a few earlier examples of Renaissance influence, such as the Salm Inn (1534) in Malines; the impressive chimneypiece by Conrad van Noremberger of Namur in the council chamber of the Palais de Justice in Bruges (1529); and the Palais de Justice in Liège (1533), which was formerly the bishop’s palace, featuring elements that hint at Spanish influence. The impact of the 16th-century Italian style can be seen in the tomb of Count de Borgnival (1533) in the cathedral of Breda, and in the choir stalls of the church at Enkhuisen near the Zuyder Zee in Holland, as well as in the choir stalls of the cathedral of Ypres in Belgium. The carving in these pieces closely resembles 16th-century Italian work in both design and execution, leading one to believe they might have been made by Italian artists, but they are actually known to be by Flemish craftsmen who must have studied in Italy. Additionally, in the stained-glass windows of the Church of St. Jacques in Liège, all the details reflect the 16th-century style, including circular arches on columns, garlands of leaves, and other decorations, which clearly take inspiration from Italian sources, but were necessarily created by Flemish painters, as that type of stained glass is rarely seen in Italian churches.

Of public buildings in Belgium, the most noted example is that of the town hall at Antwerp, designed by Cornelius de Vriendt (1564). It has a frontage of over 300 ft. facing the Grande Place, and is an imposing structure in four storeys, arcaded on the lower storey and the classic orders above, with mullioned windows between on the 422 three other storeys, the uppermost storey being an open loggia, which gives that depth of shadow obtained in Italy by a projecting cornice. It is almost the only building in Belgium without the usual gable, the centre block being carried up above the eaves and terminated with an entablature supporting at each end a huge obelisk, and in the centre what looks like the miniature representation of a church. The only other classic building is the Renaissance portion of the town hall at Ghent, which is very inferior to the older Gothic portion.

Of public buildings in Belgium, the most famous example is the town hall in Antwerp, designed by Cornelius de Vriendt (1564). It has a frontage of over 300 feet facing the Grande Place and is an impressive structure with four stories, featuring an arcade on the ground floor and classical orders above, with mullioned windows in between on the three upper stories. The top floor is an open loggia, which creates that depth of shadow found in Italy due to a projecting cornice. It's almost the only building in Belgium without the usual gable, as the center block rises above the eaves and is topped with an entablature that supports a huge obelisk at each end, and in the center, a miniature representation of a church. The only other classic building is the Renaissance section of the town hall in Ghent, which is much less impressive than the older Gothic section.

What is wanting in the town halls, however, is amply replaced by the magnificence of the houses built for the various gilds, as for instance those of the Fishmongers at Malines (1580), of the Brewers, the Archers, the Tanners and the Cordeliers (rope-makers) at Antwerp, and, in the Grande Place at Brussels, the gilds of the Butchers, the Archers, the Skippers (the gable end of which represents the stern of a vessel with four cannons protruding), the Carpenters and others. Besides these, and especially in Antwerp, are to be found a very large series of warehouses, which in the richness of their decoration and their monumental appearance vie with the gilds in the evolution of a distinct style of Renaissance architecture—a type from which the architect of the present day might derive more inspiration than from the modest brick houses of Queen Anne’s time.

What’s lacking in the town halls is more than made up for by the grandeur of the buildings constructed for various guilds. For example, there are the Fishmongers in Malines (1580), the Brewers, the Archers, the Tanners, and the Cordeliers (rope-makers) in Antwerp, as well as the guilds of the Butchers, the Archers, the Skippers (whose gable end resembles the stern of a ship with four cannons sticking out), the Carpenters, and others in the Grande Place in Brussels. Additionally, especially in Antwerp, there’s an impressive array of warehouses that match the guilds in their elaborate designs and monumental style, contributing to a unique form of Renaissance architecture—a style that today’s architects could draw more inspiration from than the simple brick houses from the time of Queen Anne.

In domestic architecture, the best-preserved example of the 16th and 17th centuries is the Musée Plantin at Antwerp, the earliest portion of which dates from 1535. This was bought by Ch. Plantin, who was employed by Philip of Spain to print all the breviaries and missals for Spain and the Netherlands; the fortune thus acquired enabled him and his successors to purchase from time to time adjoining properties which they rebuilt in the style of the earlier buildings. After 1637 the buildings followed the style of the period, but up to that date they were all erected in brick with stone courses and window dressings round a central court. Internally the whole of the ancient fittings are retained, including those of the old shop, the show-rooms, reception rooms and the residential portion of the house, with the wainscotting and Spanish leather on the walls above, panelled ceilings, chimney-pieces, stained glass, &c., the most complete representation of the domestic style of Belgium.

In home architecture, the best-preserved example from the 16th and 17th centuries is the Musée Plantin in Antwerp, with its oldest part dating back to 1535. This was purchased by Ch. Plantin, who was hired by Philip of Spain to print all the breviaries and missals for Spain and the Netherlands. The fortune he earned allowed him and his successors to buy adjacent properties over time, which they rebuilt in the style of the original buildings. After 1637, the buildings reflected the style of that period, but before then, they were all constructed with brick and stone accents around a central courtyard. Inside, all the original fittings have been preserved, including those from the old shop, showrooms, reception areas, and the living quarters, with wainscoting and Spanish leather on the walls above, paneled ceilings, fireplaces, stained glass, etc. It's the most complete representation of Belgian domestic style.

Of ecclesiastical architecture in the Renaissance style there are scarcely any examples worth noting. The tower of the church of St Charles Borromeo at Antwerp (1595-1610) is a fine composition similar in many respects to Wren’s steeples, and the nave of St Anne’s church at Bruges is of simple design and good proportion. The Belgian churches are noted for their immense pulpits, sometimes in marble and of a somewhat degraded style. The finest features in them are the magnificent rood-screens, in which the tradition of the Gothic examples already quoted seems to have been handed down. In the cathedral at Tournai is a fine specimen by Cornelius de Vriendt of Antwerp (1572), and there is a second at Nieuport, both similar in design to the example from Bois-le-Duc now in the Victoria and Albert Museum; and in the church of St Leonard at Léau is a tabernacle in stone, over 50 ft. high, in seven stages, with numerous figures by Cornelius de Vriendt (1550).

Of ecclesiastical architecture in the Renaissance style, there are hardly any noteworthy examples. The tower of St. Charles Borromeo church in Antwerp (1595-1610) is a great composition that resembles Wren’s steeples in many ways, and the nave of St. Anne’s church in Bruges features a simple design and good proportions. The Belgian churches are famous for their massive pulpits, which are sometimes made of marble and have a somewhat inferior style. The standout elements in these churches are the stunning rood screens, which seem to carry on the tradition of the previously mentioned Gothic examples. In the cathedral at Tournai, there’s a fine piece by Cornelius de Vriendt from Antwerp (1572), and there’s another one in Nieuport, both similar in design to the example from Bois-le-Duc now housed in the Victoria and Albert Museum. Additionally, in the church of St. Leonard at Léau, there’s an impressive stone tabernacle, over 50 feet tall, arranged in seven tiers, featuring numerous figures by Cornelius de Vriendt (1550).

In Holland, nearly all the principal buildings of the Renaissance date from the time of her greatest prosperity when the Dutch threw off their allegiance to the Spanish throne (1565). With the exception of the palace at Amsterdam (1648-1655), an immense structure in stone with no architectural pretensions, there are no buildings in Holland in which the influence of the purer style of the Italian revival can be traced. Internally the great hall of the palace and the staircase in the Louis XIV. style are fine examples of that period.

In Holland, almost all the main buildings from the Renaissance were built during its peak prosperity when the Dutch broke away from Spanish rule (1565). Aside from the palace in Amsterdam (1648-1655), which is a huge stone structure without any significant architectural style, there aren't any buildings in Holland that show the influence of the more refined Italian revival style. Inside, the grand hall of the palace and the staircase in the Louis XIV style are great examples of that era.

The earliest Renaissance town hall is that of the Hague (1564), situated at the angle of two streets, which is an extremely picturesque building, in fact one of the few in which the architect has known how to group the principal features of his design. The Renaissance addition made to the old town hall of Haarlem is a characteristic example of the Dutch style. The walls are in red brick, the decorative portions, consisting of superimposed pilasters with mullioned and transomed windows, cornices and gable end, all being in stone. Inside this portion of the town hall, which is now a gallery and museum, is an ancient hall (not often shown to visitors) in which all the decorations and fittings date from the 17th century. There is a second example of an ancient hall in the Stadthuis at Kampen, one of the dead cities of the Zuyder Zee, which served originally as a court of justice, and retains all its fittings of the 16th century, including a magnificent chimneypiece in stone, some 25 ft. high and dated 1543.

The earliest Renaissance town hall is the one in The Hague (1564), located at the corner of two streets. It's a really picturesque building, one of the few where the architect has successfully brought together the main features of the design. The Renaissance addition to the old town hall of Haarlem is a great example of the Dutch style. The walls are made of red brick, with decorative elements like layered pilasters, windows with mullions and transoms, cornices, and gable ends, all in stone. Inside this part of the town hall, which is now a gallery and museum, there's an ancient hall (not often shown to visitors) with decorations and furnishings from the 17th century. Another example of an ancient hall can be found in the Stadthuis at Kampen, one of the abandoned cities by the Zuyder Zee, which was originally a court of justice and still has all its 16th-century fittings, including a stunning stone chimneypiece that stands around 25 ft. tall and dates back to 1543.

The town hall at Bolsward in Friesland is another typical specimen of Dutch architecture, in which the red brick, alternating with stone courses running through the semi-detached columns which decorate the main front, has given variety to the usual treatment of such features. The external double flight of steps with elaborate balustrade, and the twisted columns which flank the principal doorway, are extremely picturesque, if not quite in accordance with the principles of Palladio or Vignola.

The town hall in Bolsward, Friesland, is another classic example of Dutch architecture, featuring red brick mixed with stone bands that run through the semi-detached columns on the main front, adding some variety to the typical design elements. The double staircase outside, complete with a fancy balustrade, and the twisted columns flanking the main entrance are quite striking, even if they don’t fully align with the principles of Palladio or Vignola.

A similar flight of steps with balustrade forms the approach to the entrance doorway (on the first floor) of the town hall at Leiden, where the rich decoration of the centre block and its lofty gable is emphasized by contrast with the plain design of the chief front.

A similar flight of steps with a railing leads up to the entrance doorway (on the first floor) of the town hall in Leiden, where the intricate decoration of the central section and its tall gable stands out against the simple design of the main front.

In the three chief cities in Holland, the Hague, Amsterdam and Rotterdam, there are few buildings remaining of 17th-century work, so that they must be sought in the south at Dordrecht and Delft, or in the north at Leiden, Haarlem, Alkmaar, Hoorn, Enkhuisen, or, crossing the Zuyder Zee into Friesland, in Leeuwarden, Bolsward, Kampen and Zwolle, the dead cities. In all these towns ancient buildings have been preserved, there being no reason to pull them down. Of the entrance gateways at Hoorn there is an example left, of which the lower portion might be taken for a Roman triumphal arch, so closely does it adhere to the design of those monuments, extending even to a long Latin inscription in the frieze. The tower (1531-1652), built to protect the entrance to the harbour, has no gateway. There are some old buildings in Kampen, in one of which the entrance gateway is a simple and fine composition in brick and stone, the chief characteristics of the gateways here being the enormously high roofs of the circular towers flanking them. A finer and more picturesque grouping of roofs exists in the entrance gateway (Amsterdam Gate) at Haarlem, which is perhaps, however, eclipsed by those of the Waaghuis at Amsterdam with its seven conical roofs.

In the three main cities in the Netherlands—The Hague, Amsterdam, and Rotterdam—there are few remaining buildings from the 17th century. Instead, you can find them in the south at Dordrecht and Delft, or in the north at Leiden, Haarlem, Alkmaar, Hoorn, Enkhuizen, or by crossing the Zuyderzee into Friesland, in Leeuwarden, Bolsward, Kampen, and Zwolle, the abandoned cities. All these towns have preserved ancient buildings since there was no reason to demolish them. At Hoorn, one of the entrance gateways remains, resembling a Roman triumphal arch due to its design, complete with a long Latin inscription in the frieze. The tower built between 1531 and 1652 to protect the harbor entrance has no gateway. There are some old buildings in Kampen, one of which features a simple yet elegant entrance gateway made of brick and stone, with the notable characteristic of extremely high roofs on the circular towers beside them. A more impressive and picturesque arrangement of roofs can be found at the entrance gateway (Amsterdam Gate) in Haarlem, which is possibly outshone by the Waaghuis in Amsterdam with its seven conical roofs.

The Waaghuisen, or weighing-houses for cheeses, are, next to the town halls, the most important buildings in Holland, and in fact vie with them in richness of design. The example at Alkmaar possesses not only an imposing front with gable in three storeys, but a lofty tower with belfry. At Deventer the main building is late Gothic (1528), in brick and stone, with an external double flight of steps and balustrades added in 1643.

The Waaghuisen, or cheese weighing houses, are, after the town halls, the most important buildings in Holland, and actually compete with them in design richness. The one in Alkmaar features not just an impressive front with a three-story gable, but also a tall tower with a belfry. In Deventer, the main building is late Gothic (1528), made of brick and stone, with an external double staircase and balustrades added in 1643.

The Fleesch Halle (meat-market) at Haarlem, also in brick and stone, is of a very rococo style, but notwithstanding all its vagaries presents a most picturesque appearance.

The Fleesch Halle (meat market) in Haarlem, made of brick and stone, features a very rococo style. Despite its quirky designs, it looks quite picturesque.

The domestic architecture of Holland and the shop fronts retain more of their original dispositions than will be found in any other country. At Hoorn, Enkhuisen and other towns, there has virtually been no change during the last 200 years. In the more flourishing towns as Amsterdam and Rotterdam, the increasing prosperity of the inhabitants led them in the latter portion of the 17th and in the 18th centuries to adapt features borrowed from the French work of Louis XIV. and Louis XV., without, however, their refinement, luxuriance or variety, so that although substantial structures they are extremely monotonous in general effect.

The domestic architecture in Holland and its shop fronts have kept more of their original styles than anywhere else. In places like Hoorn, Enkhuisen, and other towns, there has been almost no change over the last 200 years. In the more prosperous cities like Amsterdam and Rotterdam, the growing wealth of the residents in the late 17th and 18th centuries led them to adopt features from the French designs of Louis XIV and Louis XV. However, they lacked the refinement, richness, or variety of those styles, resulting in buildings that, while substantial, are overall quite monotonous.

(R. P. S.)

Mahommedan Architecture

Islamic Architecture

Before proceeding with “modern architecture,” to which the styles now discussed have gradually led us, we have still another important architectural style to describe, in Mahommedan architecture. The term “Mahommedan” has been selected in preference to “Saracenic,” because it includes a much wider field, and enables us to bring in many developments which could not well come under the latter title. It was the Mahommedan religion which prescribed the plan and the features of the mosques, and it was the restriction of that faith which led to the principal characteristics of the style. The term “Saracenic” could hardly be applied to the architecture of Spain, Persia or Turkey.

Before moving on to “modern architecture,” which the styles we've discussed have gradually led us to, we still have one more important architectural style to cover: Mahommedan architecture. The term “Mahommedan” has been chosen instead of “Saracenic” because it encompasses a much broader area and allows us to include many developments that wouldn’t fit well under the latter title. It was the Mahommedan religion that dictated the layout and features of mosques, and the limitations of that faith contributed to the main characteristics of the style. The term “Saracenic” could hardly be applied to the architecture of Spain, Persia, or Turkey.

The earliest mosques at Mecca and Medina, which have long since passed away, were probably of the simplest kind; there were no directions on the subject in the Koran, and, as Fergusson remarks, had the religion been confined to its native land, it is probable that no mosques worthy of the name would have ever been erected. In the first half-century of their conquest in Egypt and Syria the Mahommedans contented themselves with desecrated churches and other buildings, and it was only when they came among the temple-building nations that they seemed to have felt the necessity of providing some visible monument of their religion. The first requirement was a structure of some kind, which should indicate to the faithful the direction of Mecca, towards which, at stated times, they were to turn and pray. The earliest mosque, built by Omar at Jerusalem, no longer exists, but in the mosque of ‘Amr at Cairo (fig. 54), founded in 643 and probably restored or added to at various times, we find the characteristic features which form the base of the plans of all subsequent mosques. These features consist of (a) a wall built at right angles to a line drawn towards Mecca, in which, sunk in the wall, was a niche indicating the direction towards which the faithful should turn; (b) a covered space for shelter from the sun or inclement weather, which was known as the prayer chamber; (c) in front of the prayer chamber, a large open court, in which there was a fountain for ablution; and (d) a covered approach on either side of these courts and from the entrance. The materials employed in the earlier mosque were all taken from ancient structures, Egyptian, Roman and Byzantine, but so arranged as to constitute the elements of a new style. The columns employed were not always of sufficient size, and therefore in order to obtain a greater height, above the capitals were square dies, carrying ranges of arches, all running in the direction of Mecca; to resist the thrust, wood ties were built in under the arches, so that the structure was of the lightest appearance. The same principle was observed in the mosque of Kairawan, in Tunisia (675), and in the mosque of Cordova (786-985), copied from it. Similar wooden ties are found in the mosque of El Aksa and the Dome of the Rock at 423 Jerusalem (built 691), so that they became one of the characteristics of the style. For constructional reasons, however, this method of building was not always adhered to, and in the mosque of Tulun (fig. 55) in Cairo (879), the first mosque in Egypt, built of original materials, we find an important departure. The arcades, instead of running at right angles to the Mecca wall, are built parallel with it, on account of the great thrust of the arches, all built in brick (fig. 56). The wood ties would have been quite insufficient to resist the thrust, and in the case of this mosque were probably used to carry lanterns.

The earliest mosques at Mecca and Medina, which no longer exist, were likely very simple; there were no guidelines on the subject in the Quran, and as Fergusson points out, had the religion stayed in its homeland, it’s likely that no mosques worthy of the name would ever have been built. During the first fifty years of their conquests in Egypt and Syria, the Muslims made do with repurposed churches and other buildings, and it was only when they encountered nations known for their temple architecture that they felt the need to create some visible symbol of their faith. The first requirement was a structure that would indicate to the faithful the direction of Mecca, which they were to face during prayer at specific times. The earliest mosque, built by Omar in Jerusalem, no longer exists, but in the mosque of ‘Amr in Cairo (fig. 54), founded in 643 and likely restored or expanded at various times, we can see the key features that formed the basis of all later mosques. These features include: (a) a wall built at a right angle to a line drawn toward Mecca, in which a niche was carved to show the direction the faithful should face; (b) a covered area to provide shelter from the sun or bad weather, known as the prayer chamber; (c) a large open court in front of the prayer chamber, which included a fountain for ablution; and (d) covered walkways on either side of these courts and from the entrance. The materials used in the early mosque were all sourced from ancient structures—Egyptian, Roman, and Byzantine—but arranged in a way that created a new style. The columns used were often not large enough, so to achieve more height, square blocks were placed above the capitals, supporting arches that extended in the direction of Mecca. To counter the pressure, wooden ties were installed under the arches, giving the structure a light appearance. The same principle was applied in the mosque of Kairawan, in Tunisia (675), and in the mosque of Cordova (786-985), which was inspired by it. Similar wooden ties can be found in the mosque of El Aksa and the Dome of the Rock at 423 Jerusalem (built 691), making them a characteristic of the style. However, for structural reasons, this method wasn’t always followed, and in the mosque of Tulun (fig. 55) in Cairo (879), the first mosque in Egypt made from original materials, we see a significant departure. The arcades run parallel to the Mecca wall instead of at right angles to it, because of the significant thrust from the arches, which were all built with brick (fig. 56). The wooden ties would have been inadequate to support the thrust and were likely used to hold lanterns in this mosque.

Fig. 54.—Plan of Mosque of ‘Amr. Old Cairo.

1. Kibla.

Qibla.

2. Mimbar.

2. Podium.

3. Tomb of ‘Amr.

3. Tomb of 'Amr.

4. Dakka.

4. Firepower.

5. Fountain for Ablution

Fountain for Washing

6. Rooms built later.

Newer rooms.

7. Minaret.

7. Minaret.

8. Latrines.

8. Toilets.

The mosque of Tulun is the earliest example in which the pointed arch appears throughout, and it forms the leading and most characteristic constructional feature of the style in its subsequent developments in every country, except in Barbary and Spain, where the circular-headed horse-shoe arch seems to be preferred. As it is also the earliest mosque in which the decoration applied is that which was by inference laid down in the Koran, some allusion to the restrictions therein contained, and the consequent result, may not be out of place. The representation of nature in any form was absolutely forbidden, and this applied generally to foliage of all kinds, and plants, the representation of birds or animals, and above all of the human figure. The only exceptions to the rule would seem to be those found in the very conventional representations of lions carved over the gateways of Cairo and Jerusalem and in the courts of the Alhambra. It was this restriction which produced the extremely beautiful conventional patterns which are carried round the arches of the mosque of Tulun, and are found in the friezes, string-courses and the capitals of the shafts, and when these patterns form the background of the text of the Koran in high relief, in the splendid Arabic characters, it would be difficult to find a more beautiful decorative scheme in the absence of natural forms. As the mosque of Tulun was built by a Coptic architect, and its decoration is evidently the result of many years of previous developments, it is probably to the Copts that its evolution was due. The second type of decoration is that which is given by geometrical forms, and either in pavements or wall decorations in marble, or in the framing of woodwork in ceilings, or in doorways, the most elaborate and beautiful combinations were produced. The third type of decoration is one which in a sense is found in the origin of most styles, but which, restricted as the Mahommedans were to conventional representations, received a development of far greater importance, and in one of its forms—that known as stalactite vaulting—constitutes the one feature in the style which is not found in any other, and which, from the western coast of Spain to the east of India, at once differentiates it from any other style.

The mosque of Tulun is the earliest example where the pointed arch is consistently used, and it becomes the main and most defining architectural feature of the style in its later developments in every country, except for Barbary and Spain, where the circular-headed horse-shoe arch seems to be preferred. Since it is also the first mosque to apply decoration inferred from the Koran, some mention of the restrictions contained in it and the resulting impact might be relevant. The depiction of nature in any form was strictly forbidden, covering all kinds of foliage, plants, birds, animals, and especially the human figure. The only exceptions seem to be the very stylized representations of lions carved over the gates of Cairo and Jerusalem and in the courts of the Alhambra. This restriction led to the creation of extremely beautiful conventional patterns that adorn the arches of the mosque of Tulun, and these patterns are also present in the friezes, string-courses, and the capitals of the shafts. When these patterns provide a background for the text of the Koran in high relief using stunning Arabic characters, it’s hard to find a more beautiful decorative scheme in the absence of natural forms. As the mosque of Tulun was built by a Coptic architect, and its decoration reflects many years of previous developments, its evolution can probably be credited to the Copts. The second type of decoration consists of geometric forms, resulting in some of the most intricate and beautiful combinations, whether in marble pavements or wall decorations, or in the wooden framing of ceilings and doorways. The third type of decoration, which is somewhat foundational to most styles, received much greater significance due to the Mahommedans’ limitations on conventional representations. One of its forms—known as stalactite vaulting—constitutes a unique element of the style not found elsewhere, setting it apart from every other style from the western coast of Spain to the eastern coast of India.

A complete account, with illustrations of the origin of the stalactite will be found in the Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects (1898) The earliest example is found in the tomb of Zobeide, the favourite wife of Harun al-Rashid, at Bagdad, built at the end of the 8th century. This tomb, octagonal in plan, and of modest dimensions, was vaulted over by a series of niches in nine stages or levels rising one above the other, and brought forward on the inside, so that the ninth course completed the covering of the tomb. It was built in this way to save centreing, each niche when completed being self-supporting. There is a second tomb at Bagdad, of later date—the tomb of Ezekiel,—constructed in the same way, except that in each stage the niches are built not one over the other but astride between the two, and this is the way in which in subsequent developments it always appears to have been built. Its application to the pendentives of the portals of the mosque at Tabriz and Sultaniya was the next development; and when some two centuries later it is found in Europe, in the palaces of the Ziza at Palermo, dating from about the beginning of the 11th century, it has lost its brick constructive origin, and, being cut in slabs of stone, has become simply a decorative feature. Its earliest example in Egypt is in the tomb of ash-Shafi’i at Cairo, built by Saladin about 1240. Here and in all subsequent examples throughout Egypt and Syria it is always carved in stone. In the Alhambra another material was employed, the elaborate vaults being built with a series of small moulds in stucco. In the ceilings of the mosques at Cairo it was frequently carved in wood, and consequently lost all trace of its origin.

A complete account, with illustrations of the origin of the stalactite, can be found in the Journal of the Royal Institute of British Architects (1898). The earliest example is in the tomb of Zobeide, the favorite wife of Harun al-Rashid, located in Baghdad, built at the end of the 8th century. This tomb, octagonal in shape and modestly sized, was designed with a series of nine progressively rising niches, stacked one above the other, which formed the vaulted ceiling. The ninth level completed the covering of the tomb. It was built this way to eliminate the need for centering; each niche was self-supporting once finished. There’s a second tomb in Baghdad, of a later date—the tomb of Ezekiel—built in a similar style, except that in each level, the niches are arranged not one on top of the other but staggered between two niches below, which has been the standard in subsequent designs. Its use in the pendentives of the portals of the mosque at Tabriz and Sultaniya marked the next development; and when it appeared in Europe about two centuries later, in the Ziza palaces at Palermo, dating from around the early 11th century, it had lost its brick construction origins. Instead, it was cut from stone slabs, becoming purely a decorative element. Its earliest example in Egypt is found in the tomb of ash-Shafi’i at Cairo, built by Saladin around 1240. Here, as in all later examples throughout Egypt and Syria, it was always carved in stone. In the Alhambra, another material was used; the intricate vaults were made with a series of small molds in stucco. In the ceilings of the mosques in Cairo, it was often carved from wood, thus losing all traces of its original form.

From Coste’s Architecture Arabe en Caire.
Fig. 55.—Plan of Mosque of Tulun, Cairo.

Two other decorative features, but having a constructive origin, are (1) the alternating of courses of stone of different colour, probably derived from Byzantine work, where bands of brick were employed; and (2) the elaborate forms given to the voussoirs of the arches of the Mecca niche.

Two other decorative features, which have a practical origin, are (1) the alternating rows of differently colored stone, likely inspired by Byzantine designs that used bands of brick; and (2) the intricate shapes created for the voussoirs of the arches of the Mecca niche.

Having now described the principles which ruled the plans of the mosques and formed the motifs of their architectural design, it remains to take the principal examples in the various countries where the style was developed.

Having now described the principles that governed the designs of the mosques and shaped the motifs of their architecture, we now need to examine the main examples from the different countries where this style evolved.

Although the tendency of modern research points to Persia as the country in which the first development of the art took place, and we have already referred to two tombs at Bagdad, in which the earliest examples of a stalactite vault are found, so far as remains are concerned nothing can be traced earlier than the work of Ghazan Khan (1294), whose mosque at Tabriz, half in ruins, is the earliest example.

Although modern research suggests that Persia is the place where this art form first developed, and we've already mentioned two tombs in Baghdad that contain the earliest examples of a stalactite vault, nothing earlier can be identified than the work of Ghazan Khan (1294). His mosque in Tabriz, which is now partially in ruins, is the earliest example we have.

It is to Egypt therefore we turn first. There still exist—and sometimes in good preservation—mosques and other buildings in Cairo of every period showing the development of the Mahommedan style, from the 9th to the 17th century. Owing to the magnificent material at their command—for unfortunately more of it was taken from the ancient Egyptian monuments than from the quarries—a much purer style was evolved than in Persia; and owing to the absence of rain those ephemeral structures built in brick and covered with stucco, which in other countries would long have passed away, retained the crispness of their flowing ornament, which is still as sharp and well defined as when executed. We have already referred 424 to two of the earlier mosques, those of ‘Amr in Old Cairo and of Tulun. The next in date, and built also in brick, is the mosque El Hakim (c. 1003). The mosque of El Azhar (“the Splendid”) was founded about 970, but entirely rebuilt in 1270 and enlarged in 1470. It is the university, and its Liwan or prayer chamber is the largest in Cairo, there being 380 columns carrying its roof.

It is to Egypt that we turn first. There are still mosques and other buildings in Cairo from every period, showing the evolution of the Islamic style from the 9th to the 17th century, and many are well-preserved. Thanks to the impressive materials available—though sadly more were taken from ancient Egyptian monuments than from quarries—a much purer style developed here than in Persia. Additionally, due to the lack of rain, those temporary structures built of brick and covered with stucco, which would have long disappeared in other countries, have kept the sharpness of their ornate details, which are still just as crisp and well-defined as when they were created. We have already mentioned two of the earlier mosques, those of ‘Amr in Old Cairo and of Tulun. The next in chronological order, also made of brick, is the mosque El Hakim (c. 1003). The mosque of El Azhar (“the Splendid”) was founded around 970, but it was completely rebuilt in 1270 and expanded in 1470. It serves as a university, and its Liwan or prayer chamber is the largest in Cairo, supported by 380 columns holding up its roof.

The mosque of al-Zahir (founded 1264) is now occupied as barracks. In one of its entrance porches the arches are decorated with the well-known zigzag or chevron ornament, and a second porch with cushion voussoirs, features found elsewhere only in Sicily, so that the mosque was probably built by masons brought from thence. Then follows a series of mosques: Kalaun (1287); al-Nāsir (1299-1303); Merdani (1338); all based on the same plan as those described with a large courtyard surrounded by porticoes. The mosque of al-Nāsir has a portal with clustered piers and pointed and moulded orders. This is said to have been brought over as a trophy from Acre, but it is more probable that Syrian masons were imported to carry on the style introduced by the Crusaders.

The mosque of al-Zahir (founded 1264) is now used as barracks. In one of its entrance porches, the arches are decorated with the famous zigzag or chevron pattern, and a second porch features cushion voussoirs, designs that are found only in Sicily, which suggests that the mosque was likely built by masons brought from there. Next is a series of mosques: Kalaun (1287); al-Nāsir (1299-1303); Merdani (1338); all based on the same design with a large courtyard surrounded by porticoes. The mosque of al-Nāsir has a portal with clustered piers and pointed, molded orders. It's said that this was brought over as a trophy from Acre, but it's more likely that Syrian masons were imported to continue the style introduced by the Crusaders.

Fig. 56.—Court of the Mosque of Tulun, Cairo. (From Coste.)
Fig. 57.—Plan of the Mosque of the Sultan Hasan.

The mosque of Sultan Hasan (1357-1360) marks an important change in the scheme of its plan, which served afterwards as a future model (fig. 57). It consists of a central court, 117 ft. by 105 ft. open to the sky, and instead of the covered porticoes on each side there are immense recesses covered over with pointed vaults. The prayer chamber is 90 ft. deep, 90 ft. high to the apex of the vault and 69 ft. wide, a greater span than any Gothic cathedral, and only exceeded in dimensions by the great hall of the palace at Ctesiphon built by the Sassanian dynasty. The mosque covers a large area, and would seem to have been occupied by four religious sects, whose rooms, situated on the outer side, are lighted by windows in eight or ten storeys, giving the appearance of a factory. Its entrance portal, 60 ft. to 70 ft. high, is the finest in Egypt, and is only exceeded in dimensions by those of the Persian and Indian mosques. The vestibule is covered by a dome with stalactite pendentives, and is perhaps the most complete and perfect example in Cairo. Beyond the prayer chamber is the tomb of the founder, which is covered by a dome. This, according to Poole, was not originally a feature in Saracenic mosques. A dome, he says, has nothing to do with prayer and therefore nothing with a mosque. It is simply the roof of a tomb, and only exists when there is at least a tomb to be covered. The greater number of the mosques in and outside Cairo are mausoleums, which accounts for the large number of domes found there.

The Sultan Hasan Mosque (1357-1360) represents a significant shift in its design, which later served as a model (fig. 57). It features a central courtyard measuring 117 ft. by 105 ft. that is open to the sky, and instead of the covered walkways on each side, there are massive recesses topped with pointed vaults. The prayer room is 90 ft. deep, reaches a height of 90 ft. at the apex of the vault, and is 69 ft. wide, surpassing any Gothic cathedral in its span, and only outdone in size by the grand hall of the palace at Ctesiphon built by the Sassanian dynasty. The mosque occupies a large area and appears to have been home to four religious sects, with their rooms located on the outer side, illuminated by windows in eight or ten stories, giving it the look of a factory. Its entrance portal, standing 60 ft. to 70 ft. high, is the most impressive in Egypt, surpassed only in size by those of Persian and Indian mosques. The vestibule features a dome with stalactite pendentives, and is arguably the most complete and perfect example in Cairo. Beyond the prayer room is the founder's tomb, which is topped by a dome. According to Poole, this was not originally a feature of Saracenic mosques. He states that a dome has nothing to do with prayer and thus nothing to do with a mosque; it is simply the roof of a tomb and exists only when there is at least a tomb to cover. Most mosques in and around Cairo are mausoleums, which explains the large number of domes found there.

Of the tombs of the caliphs, outside Cairo, the most important is the tomb of ash-Shafi‘ī, reputed to have been built by Saladin but now quite changed by restoration. The tomb of Barkuk, in which the courtyard plan of Sultan Hasan is retained, has porticoes round it, which are of much more solid construction than those in earlier examples, and carry small domes. The two great domes on the east side and the minarets on the west are among the finest in Cairo. The tomb-mosque of Kait Bey (c. 1470), though comparatively small, is the finest in design and most elegant of its type in Egypt. Here the central court is covered by a cupola lantern (fig. 58), and the ceiling over the prayer chamber and other recesses is framed in timber and elaborately painted and gilded. The tomb is at the south-east corner, and is covered with a dome in stone, beautifully carved with conventional designs. In some of the mosques by the side of the portal is a fountain enclosed with bronze grilles, and above it a small room sometimes used as a school with open arcades on two sides. This feature in the mosque of Kait Bey, with the portal on its right, the lofty minaret beyond, and the great dome at the farther end, makes it the most picturesque in aspect of any Cairene mosque. (For plan see Mosque, fig. 3.)

Of the caliphs' tombs outside Cairo, the most significant is the tomb of ash-Shafi‘ī, which is said to have been built by Saladin but has since undergone considerable restoration. The tomb of Barkuk retains the courtyard layout of Sultan Hasan and features porticoes that are much sturdier than those in earlier examples, topped with small domes. The two impressive domes on the east side and the minarets on the west are some of the finest in Cairo. The tomb-mosque of Kait Bey (ca. 1470), although relatively small, is the most beautifully designed and elegant of its type in Egypt. The central court here is covered by a cupola lantern (fig. 58), and the ceiling above the prayer chamber and other alcoves is made of timber and intricately painted and gilded. The tomb is located in the southeast corner and is topped with a stone dome adorned with beautifully carved, conventional patterns. In some of the mosques, next to the entrance, there is a fountain surrounded by bronze grilles, and above it, a small room sometimes used as a school, with open arcades on two sides. This feature in the mosque of Kait Bey, along with the entrance to its right, the tall minaret in the background, and the grand dome at the far end, makes it the most picturesque mosque in Cairo. (For plan see Mosque, fig. 3.)

Plate VII.

Plate 7.

Photo L.L. Paris. Photo L.L. Paris.
Fig. 78.—HEIDELBERG CASTLE, FRIEDRICHSBAU. Fig. 79.—HEIDELBERG CASTLE, OTTO-HEINRICHSBAU.
Photo L.L. Paris.
Fig. 80.—HEIDELBERG CASTLE, OTTO-HEINRICHSBAU.

Plate VII.

Plate 7.

Photo, J. Valentine, Ltd. Photo, G.W. Wilson & Co.
Fig. 81.—PORCH, PETERBORO’ CATHEDRAL. Fig. 82.—ELY CATHEDRAL.
Photo, Neurdein. Photo, Neurdein.
Fig. 83.—THE LOUVRE—PAVILLON HENRI II.
(Portion of Lescot’s work on left.)
Fig. 84.—GRAND STAIRWAY, CHATEAU OF BLOIS.

It was in Egypt that the minaret received its highest development. The earliest example is that of the mosque of Tulun, which is of unusual shape, and has winding round it an inclined plane or staircase of easy ascent which can be made on horseback. The original design of this scheme was probably derived from the mosque of Samara, a town 60 m. north of Bagdad, where the minaret built c. 850 has a spiral ascent round it, recalling that of the Assyrian ziggurat as at Khorsabad. The general design of the Cairo minarets would seem to have been universally adhered to from the 12th century onwards, but the upper storeys are all varied in detail, there being virtually no two alike. As a rule the lower portion of the minaret forms part of the main wall of the mosque, and was carried up square a few feet 425 above the cresting. It then became octagonal on plan, the sides decorated with niches or geometrical ornaments in bold relief. This, the first independent storey, was crowned by a stalactite cornice carrying the balcony (fig. 59), from which the muezzin (call-to-prayer) was chanted. In the early and fine examples the balustrade round it consisted of vertical posts with panels between, pierced with geometric ornaments, and all in stone. The second storey, also octagonal, was set back sufficiently to allow a passage round, and this was crowned by a similar stalactite cornice and balustrade. A third storey, sometimes circular on plan, completed the tower, which was crowned with a bulbous terminal. In one of the mosques, that of El Azhar, the first storey is square on plan, and the second storey has twin towers with lofty bulbous finials. The elaboration of the carved ornament on the various storeys of the minarets is of considerable beauty. Among the most remarkable, other than those already referred to, are the minarets of the mosque of al-Bordeni, of Kalaun, al-Nazir, Mu‘ayyad (built on the semicircular bastion wall of the Zuwela Gate), Sultan Barkuk (1348), and numerous other mosques or tombs outside Cairo.

It was in Egypt that the minaret reached its highest development. The earliest example is the mosque of Tulun, which has an unusual shape and features a winding inclined plane or staircase that's easy to climb on horseback. The original design likely came from the mosque of Samara, a town 60 miles north of Baghdad, where the minaret built around 850 has a spiral ascent that resembles the Assyrian ziggurat at Khorsabad. The general design of Cairo's minarets seems to have been followed consistently from the 12th century onward, but the upper levels vary in detail, with almost no two being alike. Typically, the lower part of the minaret is integrated into the main wall of the mosque and rises square for a few feet above the cresting. It then becomes octagonal, with the sides decorated with niches or bold geometric patterns in relief. This first independent level is topped with a stalactite corniceSupporting a balcony (fig. 59), from which the muezzin (call-to-prayer) is announced. In the early and notable examples, the balustrade around it consisted of vertical posts with panels in between, featuring geometric cutouts, and all made of stone. The second level, also octagonal, is set back enough to allow for a walkway around it, and it is topped by a similar stalactite cornice and balustrade. A third level, sometimes circular, completes the tower, which is capped with a bulbous terminal. In the mosque of El Azhar, the first level is square, and the second level has twin towers with tall bulbous finials. The intricate carved details on the various levels of the minarets are quite beautiful. Some of the most remarkable examples, aside from those already mentioned, include the minarets of the mosque of al-Bordeni, Kalaun, al-Nazir, Mu‘ayyad (built on the semicircular bastion wall of the Zuwela Gate), Sultan Barkuk (1348), and several other mosques or tombs outside Cairo.

Fig. 58.—Interior of Kait Bey Mosque. (From Coste.)

The earlier domes were quite plain, hemispherical, with buttresses round the base, similar to those of St Sophia at Constantinople. In the later domes it was found that by raising the upper portion so as to take the form in section of a pointed arch, they could be built in horizontal courses of masonry up to about two-thirds of their height, the upper portion forming a lid without any thrust. It is probably owing to this method of construction that they still exist in such large numbers. The outer surfaces are decorated in various ways with geometrical designs, star patterns, chevrons, diapers, &c. Domes built in brick were covered with stucco and divided up into godroons.

The earlier domes were quite simple, rounded, and had buttresses around the base, similar to those of St. Sophia in Constantinople. In later domes, it was discovered that by raising the upper part to form a pointed arch in section, they could be constructed in horizontal layers of masonry up to about two-thirds of their height, with the upper part acting as a lid without any outward pressure. This construction method is likely why they still exist in such large numbers. The outer surfaces are decorated in various ways with geometric designs, star patterns, chevrons, and other motifs. Brick domes were covered with stucco and divided into decorative sections.

We have already referred to the lofty portal of the mosque of Sultan Hasan; portals of smaller dimensions form the principal entrance to all the mosques and private houses. The recessed portion rises to twice or three times the height of the door, and its pointed or cusped head is always filled by a rich stalactite vault.

We have already mentioned the grand entrance of the Sultan Hasan mosque; smaller entrances serve as the main access to all the mosques and private homes. The recessed area rises to two or three times the height of the door, and its pointed or decorative top is always adorned with an intricate stalactite vault.

The descriptions of the disposition of plan, and the principles which have governed the plans of the Cairene mosques, apply equally to those in Syria, so that it now only remains necessary to quote the chief examples. Of these the earliest is the Dome of the Rock, incorrectly called the mosque of Omar, which was built by Abdalmalik in 691, partly with materials taken from the buildings destroyed by Chosroes. At first it consisted of a central area enclosing the sacred rock, covered with a dome and with aisles round carried on columns and piers, and like the smaller Dome of the Chain open all round, but the climate of Syria is very different from that in Egypt, and consequently at a later period (813-833) the sultan Mamun built the walls which now enclose the whole structure. Many restorations have taken place since, and the dome with its rich internal decoration is attributed to Saladin (1189). The magnificent Persian tiles which encase the walls, the marble casing of some of the piers, and the stained glass, form part of the works of Suleiman (1520-1560).

The descriptions of the layout and the principles that have influenced the designs of the mosques in Cairo also apply to those in Syria, so now we just need to mention the main examples. The earliest of these is the Dome of the Rock, wrongly referred to as the mosque of Omar, which was built by Abdalmalik in 691, partly using materials taken from the buildings destroyed by Chosroes. Originally, it had a central area surrounding the sacred rock, covered by a dome, with aisles around it supported by columns and piers, and like the smaller Dome of the Chain, it was open all around. However, the climate in Syria is quite different from that in Egypt, so at a later time (813-833), Sultan Mamun built the walls that now enclose the entire structure. Many restorations have occurred since then, and the dome, with its elaborate interior decoration, is attributed to Saladin (1189). The stunning Persian tiles that cover the walls, the marble finish on some of the piers, and the stained glass are all part of the works of Suleiman (1520-1560).

The great mosque of Damascus occupied the site of an ancient church dedicated to St John the Baptist, which for a time was divided between the Christians and the Mahommedans. But in 705 the caliph al-Walid took possession of the whole church, which he rebuilt, retaining, however, the whole of the south wall, portions of which belonged to a Roman temple. This, which by chance happened to face south, became the Mecca wall, the niche being sunk in one of the doorways of the original temple. Its plan, therefore, is a variation of those we have already described. It consists of a transept with dome over the centre, three aisles of equal width, running both east and west, and a great court on the north side surrounded by arcades. The great transept is virtually the prayer chamber. The new building was erected by Byzantine masons sent from Constantinople, and decorated with marbles and mosaic by Greek artists. The mosque was almost entirely destroyed by fire in 1893, but has since been rebuilt.

The great mosque of Damascus is located on the site of an ancient church dedicated to St. John the Baptist, which was once shared between Christians and Muslims. However, in 705, Caliph al-Walid took over the entire church, which he reconstructed, but kept the entire south wall, parts of which were from a Roman temple. This wall, which happened to face south, became the Mecca wall, with the niche set in one of the original temple doorways. Its layout is therefore a variation of those we've already described. It features a transept with a dome over the center, three equally wide aisles running both east and west, and a large courtyard on the north side surrounded by arcades. The main transept essentially functions as the prayer chamber. The new building was constructed by Byzantine masons brought in from Constantinople and adorned with marble and mosaics by Greek artists. The mosque was almost completely destroyed by fire in 1893 but has since been rebuilt.

Fig. 59.—Exterior of Kait Bey Mosque, Cairo. (From Coste.)

The mosque of El Aksa in the sacred enclosure in Jerusalem, and south of the Dome of the Rock, was commenced by Abdalmalik (691), who used up materials taken from the church of St Mary, built by Justinian on Mount Sion, which had been destroyed by Chosroes. There have been so many restorations and rebuildings since, owing to destructive earthquakes and other causes, that it is difficult to give the precise dates of the various portions. The columns of the nave and aisles are extremely stunted in proportion, and their capitals are of a very debased type, copied by inferior artists from Byzantine models. They carry immense wood beams cased, and above them a range of pointed arches, among the earliest examples used throughout a mosque, and probably dating from the rebuilding (774-785). The Crusaders made various additions in the rear, but the great entrance porch is said to have been added by Saladin, after 1187, and was built probably by Christian masons who were allowed to remain in the country.

The Al-Aqsa Mosque in the sacred area of Jerusalem, located south of the Dome of the Rock, was started by Abd al-Malik in 691. He used materials taken from the Church of St. Mary, which Justinian built on Mount Zion and which was destroyed by Chosroes. Since then, there have been so many restorations and rebuildings due to destructive earthquakes and other causes that it’s hard to pinpoint the exact dates of the various parts. The columns in the nave and aisles are quite short for their purpose, and their capitals are of a low quality, imitated by lesser artists from Byzantine designs. They support massive wooden beams, and above them is a row of pointed arches, some of the earliest examples seen in a mosque, likely dating back to the rebuilding from 774 to 785. The Crusaders added various structures at the back, but the grand entrance porch is said to have been built by Saladin after 1187, likely constructed by Christian masons who were permitted to stay in the area.

The numerous minarets at Jerusalem and Damascus in general design follow those of Egypt, but instead of the incised work are generally encased with marble in geometric patterns.

The many minarets in Jerusalem and Damascus generally follow the designs found in Egypt, but instead of being carved, they are usually covered with marble in geometric patterns.

The great mosque at Mecca, from which it was thought at one time the plan of the Egyptian and other mosques was taken, is necessarily different from all others, because the Ka‘ba or Holy Stone, towards which all the niches in all other mosques turn, stood in its centre. The arcades which surround the court were nearly all rebuilt in the 17th century, as the whole mosque was washed away by a torrent in 1626.

The grand mosque in Mecca, which was once believed to have inspired the design of Egyptian and other mosques, is unique compared to all others because the Ka‘ba, or Holy Stone, which all the prayer niches in other mosques face, is located in its center. The arcades surrounding the courtyard were mostly rebuilt in the 17th century, as the entire mosque was swept away by a flood in 1626.

The mosque of Kairawan in Tunisia was built in 675. It occupies an area of 427 ft. deep and 225 ft. wide, with a prayer chamber at the Mecca end of 17 aisles and 11 bays deep, more than twice, therefore, that of ‘Amr in Old Cairo. The columns to the prayer chamber, 426 all taken from ancient buildings, are 22 ft. high in the central aisle and 15 ft. in all the others. They carry horse-shoe arches, which, as in the mosque of ‘Amr, are all tied together by wood beams inserted at the springing of the arches.

The mosque of Kairawan in Tunisia was built in 675. It covers an area of 427 ft. deep and 225 ft. wide, featuring a prayer chamber facing Mecca with 17 aisles and 11 bays deep, which is more than twice the size of ‘Amr in Old Cairo. The columns in the prayer chamber, 426 taken from ancient structures, are 22 ft. high in the central aisle and 15 ft. in all the others. They support horse-shoe arches, which, like in the mosque of ‘Amr, are all connected by wooden beams that are inserted at the springing of the arches.

The mosque of Cordova was built by Abdarrahman (Abd-ar-Rahman) in 786-789 in imitation of the mosque of Kairawan. There were eleven aisles of twenty-one bays, the centre one slightly wider than the other. The materials were taken from earlier buildings, and, as the columns and caps were not considered high enough, above the horse-shoe arches are built a second row of arches which carry the barrel vaults. To this mosque Hakim added twelve more bays in depth at the Mecca end (962), and in 985 Mansur added eight more aisles of thirty-three bays on the east side. Part of the open court on the north side dates from Abdarrahman’s foundation (690) and part from Mansur.

The mosque of Cordova was built by Abd-ar-Rahman between 786 and 789 to resemble the mosque of Kairawan. It featured eleven aisles with twenty-one bays, the center one being slightly wider than the others. The materials were sourced from older buildings, and since the columns and capitals weren’t tall enough, a second row of arches was constructed above the horse-shoe arches to support the barrel vaults. Hakim added twelve more bays at the Mecca end in 962, and in 985, Mansur added eight more aisles with thirty-three bays on the east side. Part of the open courtyard on the north side dates back to Abd-ar-Rahman's foundation in 690, with some parts added by Mansur.

Fig. 60.—Capital and Springing of Arch, from the Hall of Abencarrages, Alhambra.

In the mosque of Cordova we find the earliest example of the cusped arch, in the additions made by Hakim in 961; in order to obtain a greater height above the columns, it became necessary to employ the expedient of raising arch above arch in order to obtain the height they required for the ceilings; and as these arches formed purely decorative features, which might otherwise have become monotonous, variety was given by introducing the cusped form of arch and interlacing them one within the other. It is probably this elaborate design which suggested the plaster decorations of the screens above the arches in the court of the Alhambra. Though commenced in 1245, the existing palace of the Alhambra was built in the first half of the 14th century, at a time when the style was fully developed. There are two great courts at right angles to one another, the most important of which was the Court of the Lions, so called from the fountain in the centre, with twelve conventional representations of that animal carrying the basins. This court is surrounded by an arcade with stilted arches carried on slender marble columns with extremely rich decoration above, partly in stucco painted and gilt. The hall of the Abencerrages (35 ft. square) has a polygonal dome covered with arabesque (fig. 60). Two other halls are roofed with lofty stalactite vaults of great intricacy, richly gilded and of remarkable effect (fig. 61), but the employment of stucco instead of stone, as in Egypt, has led to an abuse in the wealth of enrichment, which is only partly redeemed by the plain masonry of the towers and walls enclosing the palace. The Giralda at Seville is the only example of a tower, but it does not seem to have served the purpose of a minaret.

In the mosque of Cordova, we see the earliest example of the cusped arch, thanks to the additions made by Hakim in 961. To achieve a greater height above the columns, it was necessary to use the technique of stacking arches to reach the desired ceiling height. Since these arches were mainly decorative, which could otherwise become dull, variety was introduced by using the cusped form of the arch and interlacing them. This intricate design likely inspired the plaster decorations of the screens above the arches in the court of the Alhambra. Although construction began in 1245, the existing palace of the Alhambra was built in the first half of the 14th century, when the style was fully developed. There are two large courts at right angles to each other, the most significant of which is the Court of the Lions, named for the fountain in the center, featuring twelve conventional representations of lions supporting the basins. This court is surrounded by an arcade with stilted arches on slender marble columns, topped with extremely rich decoration, partly in painted and gilded stucco. The hall of the Abencerrages (35 ft. square) has a polygonal dome adorned with arabesque (fig. 60). Two other halls have high stalactite vaults that are intricate, richly gilded, and very striking (fig. 61). However, the use of stucco instead of stone, as seen in Egypt, has led to an overuse of decoration, which is only somewhat balanced by the plain masonry of the towers and walls surrounding the palace. The Giralda in Seville is the only example of a tower, but it doesn’t seem to have functioned as a minaret.

With the exception of the tombs of Zobeide and Ezekiel near Bagdad, and a hospital at Erzerum of the 12th century, built by the Seljukian dynasty, the Mahommedan style in Persia dates from the 13th century, i e. if Ghazan Khan built the mosque at Tabriz in 1294. The plan is that of a Byzantine church with a central dome, aisles and sanctuary. The portal consists of a lofty niche vaulted with semi-domes and stalactite pendentives, similar in many respects to the well-known example of Sultan Hasan in Cairo, built sixty years later. It is built in brick and covered internally and externally with glazed bricks of various colours, wrought into most intricate patterns with interlacing ornament and with Cufic inscriptions. The dazzling and perfect beauty in point of colour is not to be surpassed, but from the architectural point of view it possesses the fatal sin of not showing its construction. The bricks and tiles are only a veneer, and though in certain features (such as the portal and the dome) the construction is at least suggested, the tendency is to trust to decoration alone to produce architectural effects. (But see Tabriz.)

Except for the tombs of Zobeide and Ezekiel near Baghdad, and a 12th-century hospital in Erzerum built by the Seljuk dynasty, the Islamic style in Persia starts from the 13th century, specifically when Ghazan Khan built the mosque in Tabriz in 1294. The design is that of a Byzantine church with a central dome, aisles, and sanctuary. The entrance features a tall niche vaulted with semi-domes and stalactite pendentives, resembling the famous example of Sultan Hasan in Cairo, which was built sixty years later. It’s made of brick and covered on the inside and outside with glazed bricks in various colors, arranged in intricate patterns with interlacing designs and Cufic inscriptions. The dazzling beauty in terms of color is unmatched, but from an architectural perspective, it suffers from the flaw of not revealing its structure. The bricks and tiles are merely a façade, and although certain aspects (like the entrance and the dome) hint at the construction, the overall tendency is to rely solely on decoration to create architectural effects. (But see Tabriz.)

The great mosque at Isfahan (1585) is a good illustration of the danger attending a too free use of surface decoration. Strip the walls of their tiles, and nothing is left except square box-like forms with pointed arched openings of different form. The interior, however, owing to the variety of its features, and the varied play of light and shade given in the hemispherical vaults of its transepts and niches and the vaulted aisles, constitutes one of the most beautiful monuments of Mahommedan art.

The great mosque in Isfahan (1585) is a clear example of the risks that come with excessive surface decoration. Take away the tiles from the walls, and all that remains are plain boxy shapes with differently shaped pointed arches. However, the interior, with its diverse features and the dynamic interplay of light and shadow created by the hemispherical vaults in its transepts, niches, and vaulted aisles, makes it one of the most stunning monuments of Islamic art.

Apart from the great development of Mahommedan architecture in India (see Indian Architecture), there remains now to be described only one other phase of the style, that found in Constantinople.

Apart from the significant development of Islamic architecture in India (see Indian Architecture), there’s just one more aspect of the style to describe, which is found in Constantinople.

Prior to the conquest of Constantinople in 1445, two mosques were built by the Turks at Brusa in Asia Minor. The plan of Ulu Jami, the great mosque, follows the original courtyard type. Yeshil Jami, the Green mosque (1430), built on the site of a Byzantine church, is cruciform on plan. In both of them the Persian influence is shown, in the magnificent towers with which they are covered, the marble casing and the stalactite vaults.

Prior to the conquest of Constantinople in 1445, the Turks built two mosques in Brusa, Asia Minor. The design of Ulu Jami, the grand mosque, follows the traditional courtyard style. Yeshil Jami, the Green Mosque (1430), was built on the site of a Byzantine church and has a cruciform layout. Both mosques exhibit Persian influence, evident in their stunning towers, marble facades, and stalactite ceilings.

Fig. 61.—Pendentive, from the Court of the Lions, Alhambra.

After the conquest of Constantinople, the supreme beauty of St Sophia, and the adaptability of its plan to the requirements of the Mahommedan faith, caused it to be accepted as the model on which all the new mosques were based. The first two erected were the Bayezid (1497-1515) and the Selim mosques (1520-1526). In the former the dome and its pendentives are carried on octagonal piers, and the dome, 108 ft. in diameter, is greater than in any subsequent example. The finest mosque, and the example in which we find the complete development of the Turkish style, is that erected by Suleiman the Magnificent in 1550-1555. This mosque, designed by Sinan, an Armenian architect, is still quite perfect. The plan follows very closely its model, St Sophia, and consists of a central dome, 86 ft. in diameter and 156 ft. high, carried on pendentives, resting on great arches which are slightly pointed, with great apses on the east and west sides, and three smaller apses in each, the arches of which ate all circular. The principal change in design is that found in the north and south walls, under the arches carrying the dome; in St Sophia they were subdivided into two storeys with galleries overlooking the church, but in the Suleimanic mosque the galleries are set back in the outer aisles, and the screen walls consist of a wide central and two side pointed arches, and voussoirs alternately of black and white marble. The tympana above this is pierced with eighteen windows filled with geometric tracery. Stalactite work is employed in the pendentive of the smaller apses and in the capitals of the columns carrying the pointed arches. The columns are of porphyry, the shafts, 28 ft. high, being taken from the Hippodrome and probably brought originally from Egypt. The walls are cased with marble up to the springing of the dome, but the magnificent mosaics of St Sophia are here replaced by vulgar colouring and plaster decoration of a rococo style, due probably to recent restorations. The mosque is preceded by a forecourt, surrounded by an arcade on all sides and containing a fountain, and in the garden in the rear is the tomb of the founder and his wife.

After the conquest of Constantinople, the stunning beauty of St. Sophia and its design suitability for the needs of the Islamic faith led to it being used as a model for all new mosques. The first two built were the Bayezid Mosque (1497-1515) and the Selim Mosque (1520-1526). In the former, the dome and its supporting structures sit on octagonal piers, and the dome, measuring 108 ft. in diameter, is larger than any subsequent examples. The most impressive mosque, showcasing the full development of the Turkish style, was built by Suleiman the Magnificent between 1550 and 1555. This mosque, designed by Sinan, an Armenian architect, remains remarkably intact. Its layout closely follows St. Sophia, featuring a central dome that is 86 ft. in diameter and 156 ft. high, supported by pendentives and resting on slightly pointed arches, with large apses on the east and west sides and three smaller apses in each, all with circular arches. The main design change appears in the north and south walls beneath the dome-supporting arches; in St. Sophia, these walls were divided into two levels with galleries overlooking the church, while in the Suleimanic mosque, the galleries are set back within the outer aisles, and the screen walls consist of a wide central arch and two side pointed arches, with voussoirs alternating in black and white marble. The tympanum above features eighteen windows with geometric tracery. Stalactite work is used in the pendentives of the smaller apses and the capitals of the columns that support the pointed arches. The columns, made of porphyry, have shafts that are 28 ft. high and were taken from the Hippodrome, likely originally sourced from Egypt. The walls are covered in marble up to where the dome begins, but the magnificent mosaics of St. Sophia have been replaced by garish colors and plaster decoration in a rococo style, likely due to recent renovations. The mosque is preceded by a forecourt surrounded by an arcade on all sides and includes a fountain, and in the garden behind is the tomb of the founder and his wife.

The Shah-Zadeh mosque, known as the prince’s mosque, was also built by Sultan Suleiman, from the designs of Sinan, the same 427 Armenian architect who built the Suleimanic mosque. Here, instead of confining the great apses to the east and west sides, they are introduced on the north and south sides in place of the screen, and produce a monotonous and poor effect. The same design is found in the Ahmedin mosque, built 1608, and with the same result. Externally, however, they are both fine, owing to the variety of domes, semi-domes and other curved forms of roof.

The Shah-Zadeh mosque, also known as the prince’s mosque, was built by Sultan Suleiman, according to the designs of Sinan, the same Armenian architect who designed the Suleimanic mosque. Here, instead of limiting the large apses to the east and west sides, they are placed on the north and south sides instead of the screen, resulting in a dull and unimpressive effect. The same design appears in the Ahmedin mosque, built in 1608, with the same outcome. However, both structures look great from the outside, thanks to the variety of domes, semi-domes, and other curved roof shapes.

The minarets of the Turkish mosques are very inferior to those of Cairo. They are of great height, generally semicircular, with narrow balconies round the upper part, and crowned with extinguisher roofs. To a certain extent, however, they contrast very well with the domes and semi-domes of St Sophia and those of the mosques built by the Turks.

The minarets of the Turkish mosques are much less impressive than those in Cairo. They are quite tall, usually semicircular, with narrow balconies around the top, and topped with conical roofs. However, they do create an interesting contrast with the domes and semi-domes of St. Sophia and the mosques constructed by the Turks.

In the mosque of Osman, built 1748-1757, we find the first trace of Western influence in its rococo design, but here, as in the mosque of Mehemet Ali in Cairo, built in 1837, the scheme is so good that, notwithstanding the great falling off in design, and, in the latter mosque, the construction, the effect of the interior is very fine.

In the Osman Mosque, built between 1748 and 1757, we see the first sign of Western influence in its rococo design. However, similar to the Mehemet Ali Mosque in Cairo, built in 1837, the overall design is still impressive. Despite a notable decline in design quality and, in the case of the latter mosque, construction, the interior effect remains quite striking.

Amongst other architectural features, the fountains in the courtyards of the mosques and those which decorate the public squares are extremely pleasing in design. The latter are square on plan with polygonal angles elaborate niches with stalactite heads, with overhanging eaves on each side; the ornament is very varied and the colour sometimes very attractive. The roofs have sometimes most picturesque outlines.

Among other architectural features, the fountains in the mosque courtyards and those that adorn the public squares are beautifully designed. The public square fountains are square-shaped with polygonal corners and intricate niches topped with stalactite designs, along with overhanging eaves on each side. The decorations are diverse and the colors can be quite appealing. The roofs often have the most picturesque shapes.

(R. P. S.)

Modern Architecture

Modern Design

The beginning of the 19th century may be considered to mark the beginning of the modern era in architecture. The 19th century is the period par excellence of architectural “revivals.” The great Renaissance movement in Italy already described was something more than a mere revival. It was a new spirit affecting the whole of art and literature and life, not an architectural movement only; and as far as architecture is concerned it was not a mere imitative revival. The great Italian architects of the Renaissance, as well as Wren, Vanbrugh and Hawksmoor in England, however they drew their inspiration from antique models, were for the most part original architects; they put the ancient materials to new uses of their own. The tendency of the 19th-century revivals, on the other hand, except in France, was distinctly imitative in a sense in which the architecture of the great Renaissance period was not. Correctness of imitation, in the English Gothic revival especially, was an avowed object; and conformity to precedent became, in fact, except with one or two individual architects, almost the admitted test of excellence.

The start of the 19th century can be seen as the beginning of the modern era in architecture. The 19th century is really the time of architectural "revivals." The great Renaissance movement in Italy, which we've already discussed, was more than just a revival. It was a new spirit that affected all of art, literature, and life, not just architecture; and in terms of architecture, it wasn’t merely about imitation. The great Italian architects of the Renaissance, along with Wren, Vanbrugh, and Hawksmoor in England, although inspired by ancient models, were primarily original architects; they utilized ancient materials in innovative ways. In contrast, the revivals of the 19th century, except in France, were clearly imitative in a way that the architecture of the great Renaissance period was not. The accuracy of imitation, especially in the English Gothic revival, was a stated goal; and adherence to precedent became, for the most part, almost the accepted measure of excellence, except for one or two individual architects.

Fig. 85—Bank of Ireland, Dublin.

The earliest classical London building of note in the 19th century is Soane’s Bank of England, which as a matter of date belongs in fact to the end of the 18th century; but its architect lived well into the 19th century, and the bank Classical revival in British architecture. may be classed with this section of the subject. Soane had to make something architectural out of the walls of a very extended building of only one storey, in which external windows were not admissible; and he did so by applying a classical columnar order to the walls and introducing sham window architraves. The latter are indefensible, and weaken the expression of the building; the columnar order was the received method at the time of making a building (as was supposed) “architectural,” and the building has grace and dignity, and could hardly be taken for anything except a bank, although a more robust and massive treatment would have been more expressive of the function of the building, as a kind of fortress for the storage of money. It was only some years later that the Greek revival took some hold of English architects (the Bank of England is rather Roman than Greek); the impetus to it was probably given by the “Elgin marbles”; Stuart and Revett’s great work on the Antiquities of Athens had been issued a good while previously, the three first volumes being dated respectively 1762, 1787 and 1794; but the appearance of the fourth volume in 1816 was no doubt influenced by the transportation to London of the Elgin marbles, and the sensation created by them. One of the first architectural results was the erection, at an immense cost in comparison with its size, of the church of St Pancras in London (1819-1822), designed by Inwood, who published a fine and still valuable monograph on the Erechtheum, and showed his enthusiasm for Greek architecture by copying the Erechtheum order and doorways for his façade, and erecting over it a tower composed of the Temple of the Winds with an octagonal imitation of the monument of Lysicrates imposed above it. This use of Greek monuments was architecturally absurd, though at the time it was no doubt the offspring of a genuine enthusiasm.

The earliest notable classical building in London from the 19th century is Soane’s Bank of England, which actually dates back to the late 18th century. However, its architect lived well into the 19th century, so the bank can be included in this part of the discussion. Soane had to create an architectural design from the walls of a very large single-story building where external windows weren’t allowed; he achieved this by applying a classical columnar style to the walls and adding fake window frames. These additions are defenseless and detract from the building's overall look; the columnar style was the accepted way at the time to make a building seem “architectural.” The building possesses grace and dignity and is unmistakably a bank, though a more solid and substantial design would have better reflected its function as a kind of fortress for storing money. It wasn’t until a few years later that the Greek revival began to influence English architects (the Bank of England is more Roman than Greek); this shift was likely sparked by the “Elgin marbles.” Stuart and Revett’s significant work, Antiquities of Athens, had been published some time earlier, with the first three volumes dated 1762, 1787, and 1794. However, the appearance of the fourth volume in 1816 was certainly influenced by the arrival of the Elgin marbles in London and the excitement they generated. One of the first architectural outcomes was the construction of St Pancras church in London (1819-1822), designed by Inwood, who published a fine and still significant monograph on the Erechtheum. He expressed his admiration for Greek architecture by copying the Erechtheum's style and doorways for his façade, and topping it with a tower that combined the Temple of the Winds with an octagonal imitation of the Lysicrates monument. This use of Greek monuments was architecturally nonsensical, but at the time, it likely stemmed from genuine enthusiasm.

A better use was made of the study of Greek architecture by William Wilkins (1778-1839), who was in his way a great architect, and whose University College (1827-1828), as designed by him, was a noble and dignified building, of which he only carried out the central block with the cupola and portico. The wings were somewhat altered from his design but not materially spoiled, but the university authorities permitted the vandalism of erecting a low building as a partial return of the quadrangle on the fourth side, for the purposes of a mechanical laboratory, which ruined the appearance of the building.4 Wilkins’s other well-known work is the National Gallery (1832-1838), which he was not allowed to carry out exactly as he wished, and in which the cupola and the “pepperpots” are exceedingly poor and weak. But his details, especially the profiles of his mouldings, are admirably refined, and show the influence of a close study of Greek work. Among other prominent English architects of the classic revival in England are Sir Robert Smirke and Decimus Burton (1800-1881). To Burton we owe the Constitution Hill arch and the Hyde Park screen. The latter is a very graceful erection of its kind; the arch has never been completed by the quadriga group which the architect intended as its crowning feature, though for many years it was allowed to be disfigured by the colossal equestrian statue of Wellington, completely out of scale and crushing the structure. Smirke is kept in memory by his fine façade of the British Museum, which has been much criticized for its “useless” colonnades and the wasted space under them. The criticism is hardly just; for classic colonnades have at least some affinity with the purposes of a museum of antique art, and it conveys the impression of being a frontispiece to a building containing something of permanent value and importance. The early classic revival set its mark also, in a very fine and unmistakable manner, on the capital of the sister island. Dublin is almost a museum of fine classic buildings of the period, among which the most remarkable is the present Bank of Ireland (fig. 85), originally begun as the Parliament House. The beginning of the building belongs to the 18th 428 century, but it was not completed in its present form till 1805, and was the work of five successive architects, only one of them, James Gandon (1743-1823), a man of the first importance; but it was Gandon who in 1790 did most to give the building its effective outline on plan, by introducing one of the curved quadrant walls, the building being subsequently finished in accordance with this suggestion. It is a remarkable combination of symmetry and picturesqueness, and as a one-storey classic building is far superior to Soane’s Bank of England, with which a comparison is naturally suggested. Gandon’s custom house, with its fine central cupola, is another notable example. Edinburgh too can show examples of the classic revival, and bears the title of “modern Athens” as much from her architectural experiments as from her intellectual claims; she illustrates the application of Greek architecture to modern buildings in two really fine examples, the Royal Institution by W.H. Playfair (1780-1857), and the high school by Thomas Hamilton (1784-1858). It was a pity that she added to these the collection of curiosities on the Calton Hill.

A better use was made of the study of Greek architecture by William Wilkins (1778-1839), who was a significant architect in his own right. His design for University College (1827-1828) resulted in a noble and dignified building, although he only completed the central block with the cupola and portico. The wings were somewhat altered from his original design but were not seriously ruined. However, the university authorities allowed the vandalism of putting up a low building as a partial return of the quadrangle on the fourth side for the mechanical laboratory, which ruined the building's appearance.4 Wilkins’s other notable work is the National Gallery (1832-1838), which he could not execute exactly as he envisioned, resulting in the cupola and the “pepperpots” being quite poor and weak. Nevertheless, his details, especially the profiles of his moldings, are beautifully refined and show the influence of a close study of Greek work. Other prominent English architects of the classic revival in England include Sir Robert Smirke and Decimus Burton (1800-1881). We owe the Constitution Hill arch and the Hyde Park screen to Burton. The latter is a very graceful structure; however, the arch has never been finished with the quadriga group that the architect intended as its crowning feature and, for many years, was marred by the gigantic equestrian statue of Wellington, which was completely out of scale and overwhelmed the structure. Smirke is remembered for his impressive façade of the British Museum, which has faced criticism for its “useless” colonnades and the wasted space beneath them. This criticism is somewhat unfair because classic colonnades have at least some relevance to a museum of antique art and convey the impression of being a frontispiece to a building containing something of lasting value and significance. The early classic revival also made a clear mark on the neighboring island. Dublin is almost a museum of fine classic buildings from the period, among which the most remarkable is the current Bank of Ireland (fig. 85), originally started as the Parliament House. The beginning of the building dates back to the 18th century, but it wasn’t completed in its current form until 1805, involving the work of five successive architects, with only one of them, James Gandon (1743-1823), being highly significant. Gandon was responsible for greatly shaping the building's effective outline in 1790 by introducing one of the curved quadrant walls, and the building was subsequently completed based on this idea. It is a remarkable blend of symmetry and picturesque qualities, and as a one-story classic structure, it is far superior to Soane’s Bank of England, which naturally invites comparison. Gandon’s customs house, featuring a striking central cupola, is another notable example. Edinburgh also showcases examples of the classic revival and earns the title of “modern Athens” due to both its architectural endeavors and intellectual pursuits; it demonstrates the application of Greek architecture to modern buildings through two truly fine examples: the Royal Institution by W.H. Playfair (1780-1857) and the high school by Thomas Hamilton (1784-1858). It’s a pity that she added to these the collection of curiosities on Calton Hill.

Fig. 86.—Liverpool Branch of the Bank of England. (Cockerell.)

But before we quit the classic revival in England, there are two architects to be named who came a little later in the day, living in fact into the time of the Gothic revival, who were superior to any of the earlier classic practitioners: Harvey Lonsdale Elmes and C.R. Cockerell. Elmes, who died very young, seems to have been as completely a born architectural genius as Wren, and his great work, St. George’s Hall at Liverpool, has done more than any other building in the world to glorify the memory of the classic revival. Granting all that may be said as to the unsuitability of Greek architecture to the English climate, one can hardly complain of any movement in architecture which gave the opportunity for the production of so grand an architectural monument. It is true that it is badly planned and lighted, and the exterior and interior do not agree with each other (the exterior is Greek, and the great hall is Roman); but if from our present point of view it is a mistake, it is certainly one of the finest mistakes ever made in architecture. Cockerell, who completed the interior of the building after Elmes’s death, was an architect permeated with the principles and feeling of Greek architecture, who brought to his work a refinement of taste and perception in regard to detail which has rarely been equalled and never surpassed. Perhaps the very best example of his scholarly taste in the application of classic architecture to modern uses is to be found in his façade to the branch Bank of England at Liverpool (fig. 86).

But before we wrap up the classic revival in England, we need to mention two architects who came a bit later, even living into the Gothic revival, and who were better than any of the earlier classic architects: Harvey Lonsdale Elmes and C.R. Cockerell. Elmes, who died very young, seemed to be a born architectural genius like Wren, and his major work, St. George’s Hall in Liverpool, has done more than any other building to celebrate the classic revival. While there are valid points about the unsuitability of Greek architecture for the English climate, it's hard to criticize any architectural movement that led to such an impressive monument. It is true that the building is poorly planned and lit, and the exterior and interior don't match (the exterior is Greek, while the great hall is Roman); but even if we see it as a mistake today, it's certainly one of the finest architectural missteps ever made. Cockerell, who finished the building's interior after Elmes’s death, was an architect deeply influenced by the principles and aesthetics of Greek architecture. He brought a level of taste and detail to his work that is rarely matched and never surpassed. Perhaps the best example of his scholarly approach to applying classic architecture for modern use is his façade for the branch Bank of England in Liverpool (fig. 86).

From a photo by W.A. Manseli & Co.
Fig. 87.—Royal Theatre, Berlin. (Schinkel.)
From a photograph by W.A. Manseli & Co.
Fig. 88.—Nikolai Kirche, Potsdam. (Schinkel.)

Plate IX.

Plate 9.

Photo, Seer.
Fig. 115.—PARLIAMENT BUILDINGS, BUDAPEST. (STEINDL.)
Photo, Lowy.
Fig. 116.—PARLIAMENT BUILDINGS, VIENNA. (HANSEN.)
Photo, Linde.
Fig. 117.—PARLIAMENT BUILDINGS, BERLIN. (WALLOT.)

Plate X.

Plate X.

Photo, F.G.O. Stuart.
Fig. 118.—HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT, LONDON. (BARRY.)
Photo, Emery Walker.
Fig. 119.—SCOTLAND YARD, LONDON. (SHAW.)

In Germany, and especially at Berlin and Munich, the Greek revival took hold of architecture in the early part of the century in a more decisive but also in a more academical spirit than in England. The movement is connected Classical revival in Germany. more especially with the name of one eminent architect, Karl Friedrich Schinkel, who must have been a man of genius to have so impressed his taste on his generation as he did in Berlin, where he was regarded as the great and central power in the architecture of his day; yet his buildings are marked by learning and academical correctness rather than original genius. Elmes’s St George’s Hall, already referred to as one great English work of the classic revival, is by no means a mere piece of academical architecture; it exhibits in some of its details a great deal of originality, and in its general design a remarkably fine feeling for architectural grouping. In particular, the solid masses and the heavy square columns at the 429 ends of his building, which seem like Greek architecture treated with Egyptian feeling, give support to, while they form a most effective contrast with, the richer and more delicate Corinthian order of the central portion. The only work of Schinkel’s which shows something of the same feeling for contrast in architectural composition is one of his smaller buildings, the Konigswache or Royal Guard-house, in which a Doric colonnaded portico is effectively flanked and supported by two great masses of plain wall. But in general Schinkel does not seem to have known what to do with the angles of his buildings, or to have realized the value of mass as a support to his colonnades. This is strikingly exemplified in his museum at Berlin, where the tall narrow piers at the angles have a very weak effect, and are quite inadequate as a support to the long open colonnade. His Royal theatre also (fig. 87), though the central portico is fine, is monotonous and weak in its two-storeyed repetition of the small order in the wings, and it has also the fault (which it shares, no doubt, with a great many theatres, large and small) that its exterior design gives no hint of the theatre form; it might just as well be a museum. His. Nikolai Kirche (1830-1837) at Potsdam (fig. 88), which has considerable celebrity, though not so merely academical in character, and in fact possessed of a certain originality, has a fault of another kind, in its entire lack of architectural unity; the dome does not seem to belong to or to have any connexion with the substructure, while the portico is quite out of scale with the great block of building in its rear, and looks like a subsequent addition. The fault of the Schinkel school of architecture is an almost total want of what may be called architectural life; it is an artificial production of the studio. The same kind of cold classicism prevailed at Munich, where Leo von Klenze (1784-1864), though a lesser man than Schinkel, played somewhat the same part as the latter played at Berlin. His Propylaea (fig. 89), in which Greek and Egyptian influences are combined, is a characteristic example of his cold and scholastic style. His well known Ruhmeshalle, with its boldly projecting colonnaded wings and the colossal statue of Bavaria in front of it, is in its way a fine architectural conception—perhaps finer and more consistent in its kind than any one work of Schinkel, though he evidently did not exercise so wide an influence on the German art of his day. A third eminent name in the German classic revival is that of Gottfried Semper (1803-1879), somewhat later in date (Schinkel was born in 1781), but more or less of the same school. Semper practised successively at Dresden and at Zurich, but finally settled in Vienna, where, however, he did not live to see the execution of his two most important designs, the museum and the Hofburg theatre, which were carried out by Baron Karl von Hasenauer (1833-1894) from his designs, or approximately so. Semper’s theatre at Dresden, however, shows that he could recognize the practical basis of architecture, as the expression of plan, in a way that Schinkel could not; for in that building he frankly adopted the curve of the auditorium as the motif for his exterior design, thus producing a building which is obviously a theatre, and could not be taken for anything else, and putting some of that life into it which is so much wanting in Schinkel’s rigid classicalities.

In Germany, particularly in Berlin and Munich, the Greek revival influenced architecture early in the century in a more definitive yet also more academic way than in England. This movement is notably associated with one prominent architect, Karl Friedrich Schinkel, who was undoubtedly a genius for significantly shaping the taste of his era in Berlin, where he was seen as the leading figure in contemporary architecture; however, his buildings are characterized by scholarly rigor and academic precision rather than original creativity. Elmes’s St George’s Hall, already mentioned as a significant English work of the classic revival, is not just an academic architectural piece; it showcases a significant amount of originality in some details and demonstrates a remarkable sensitivity to architectural grouping in its overall design. Specifically, the solid masses and heavy square columns at the ends of his building, which resemble Greek architecture with an Egyptian influence, provide support while contrasting effectively with the richer and more delicate Corinthian order in the central part. The only work of Schinkel’s that exhibits a similar sense of contrast in architectural composition is one of his smaller buildings, the Konigswache or Royal Guardhouse, where a Doric colonnaded portico is effectively backed up and supported by two large masses of plain wall. Yet, overall, Schinkel doesn't seem to have understood how to handle the corners of his buildings or to appreciate the role of mass as support for his colonnades. This is particularly evident in his museum in Berlin, where the tall, narrow piers at the angles appear very weak and do not adequately support the long open colonnade. His Royal Theatre, although the central portico is impressive, is monotonous and feeble in its two-story repetition of the smaller order in the wings, and it suffers from the fault (also shared by many theaters, both large and small) of not hinting at the theater form in its external design; it could easily be mistaken for a museum. His Nikolai Kirche (1830-1837) in Potsdam, which is quite well-known, while not strictly academic and possessing some originality, suffers from a different issue: it lacks architectural unity; the dome seems disconnected from the substructure, the portico is disproportionately sized in relation to the large block of building behind it, and it appears as if it was an afterward addition. A major flaw in Schinkel's architectural style is a nearly complete absence of what might be termed architectural vitality; it feels like a manufactured product from a studio. The same kind of cold classicism was evident in Munich, where Leo von Klenze (1784-1864), although less prominent than Schinkel, played a somewhat similar role as Schinkel did in Berlin. His Propylaea, blending Greek and Egyptian elements, is a prime example of his cold and scholarly style. His well-known Ruhmeshalle, featuring boldly projecting colonnaded wings with a colossal statue of Bavaria in front, is, in its own way, a strong architectural idea—perhaps more refined and cohesive than any individual work of Schinkel, although Klenze clearly did not wield as broad an influence on German art during his time. A third notable name in the German classic revival is Gottfried Semper (1803-1879), who came later (Schinkel was born in 1781) but was somewhat aligned with the same tradition. Semper worked in various locations, including Dresden and Zurich, eventually settling in Vienna, where he did not live to see his two most significant designs, the museum and the Hofburg theatre, realized, although they were executed by Baron Karl von Hasenauer (1833-1894) based on his designs, or something close. Semper’s theatre in Dresden, however, demonstrates that he could perceive the functional basis of architecture as an expression of design in a way that Schinkel could not; in that building, he openly adopted the curve of the auditorium as the motif for his exterior design, creating a structure that is unmistakably a theatre, doing much to infuse it with the life that is often lacking in Schinkel’s rigid classical forms.

From a photograph by Ferd. Finsterlin.
Fig. 89.—Propylaea at Munich. (Von Klenze.)

In spite of the Romanizing influence of the First Empire, the classic revival did not leave by any means so academical a stamp on French as on German architecture of the early period of the century. French architects in the French Classicism. main have always had too much original genius to be entirely taken captive by a general movement of this kind. There is the weak classicism of Bernard Poyet’s façade to the chamber of deputies, a very poor affair; and there are two important buildings in the guise of Roman peripteral temples, devoted respectively to business and to religion—the Bourse, by Alexandre Théodore Brongniart (1739-1813), and the Madeleine, begun under Napoleon, as a “Temple de la Gloire,” by Pierre Vignon (1763-1828), and completed as a church in 1841 by Jean Jacques Huve (1783-1852). Both of these are very well carried out externally, and enable us to judge of what would be the effect of a Roman temple of the kind. It must be admitted that the plain oblong mass of the Bourse has really been very much improved by the recent addition of the two wings, carried out by Cavel, though there was a great deal of opposition at first to meddling with so celebrated a building. Unfortunately, the exterior of the Bourse is a mere piece of architectural scenery, quite unconnected with the internal object and arrangement of the building. The Madeleine is a really fine exterior in its way; if a modern church was to put on the guise of a pagan temple, the task could hardly have been better carried out; and the interior might have been as fine if properly treated, but it has little artistic relation with the noble exterior, and is spoiled by poor architectural treatment and bad ornament. The church of St Vincent de Paul, by Jacques Ignace Hittorff (1792-1867), an architect who was one of the most learned students of Greek architecture of his day, is another important example of the French classical church of the period (Plate XII., fig. 125). In this the interior is more consistent with the exterior than is the case in the Madeleine; and by adding a tower at each angle of the façade, above the colonnaded portico, the architect gave it more the expression of a church, which the Madeleine wants. In the Arc de l’Étoile, by Jean François T. Chalgrin (1739-1811), we have a really great, even sublime work, which, though suggested by the Roman triumphal arches, is no mere copy, but bears the impress of the French genius in its details as well as in François Rude’s grand sculptures on the east face, while its great scale places it above everything else of the kind in the world. It is only after ascending the interior and seeing the vaults carrying the roof that one fully realizes what a stupendous piece of work this is. Under Napoleon there was at least no jerry-building.5

Despite the Roman influence of the First Empire, the revival of classical architecture didn't leave as strict an academic mark on French architecture as it did on German architecture in the early part of the century. French architects have traditionally possessed too much original creativity to be completely dominated by a broad movement like this. There is the weak classicism of Bernard Poyet's façade for the chamber of deputies, which is quite unimpressive; but there are also two significant buildings that resemble Roman peripteral temples, dedicated to business and religion—the Bourse, designed by Alexandre Théodore Brongniart (1739-1813), and the Madeleine, which was initiated under Napoleon as a "Temple de la Gloire," by Pierre Vignon (1763-1828), and finished as a church in 1841 by Jean Jacques Huve (1783-1852). Both buildings are well-executed on the outside and help us gauge the potential impact of a Roman temple. It should be noted that the plain, elongated mass of the Bourse has been significantly enhanced by the recent addition of two wings, executed by Cavel, even though there was considerable initial resistance to altering such a well-known building. Unfortunately, the exterior of the Bourse serves merely as an architectural facade, disconnected from the internal purpose and layout of the building. The Madeleine presents a truly fine exterior; if a modern church were to take on the appearance of a pagan temple, it would be difficult to achieve better. However, the interior, if treated properly, could have been equally impressive, but it lacks a strong artistic connection to the beautiful exterior and suffers from poor architectural treatment and bad decoration. The church of St Vincent de Paul, designed by Jacques Ignace Hittorff (1792-1867), an architect who was one of the most knowledgeable scholars of Greek architecture of his time, serves as another key example of the French classical church of this era (Plate XII., fig. 125). Here, the interior aligns more closely with the exterior than it does in the Madeleine; adding towers at each corner of the façade, above the colonnaded portico, gives it more of a church-like feel, something the Madeleine lacks. The Arc de l’Étoile, created by Jean François T. Chalgrin (1739-1811), is an exceptional and even sublime work that, while inspired by Roman triumphal arches, is no mere replica. It reflects French genius in its details and features François Rude's magnificent sculptures on the east face, while its grand scale elevates it above any similar structure worldwide. It isn't until one ascends the interior and views the vaulted ceiling that the true enormity of this achievement becomes apparent. Under Napoleon, at least, there was no shoddy construction.

430

430

Fig. 90.—Halifax Town Hall. (Barry.)

Returning to the consideration of architecture in England, we come, at about the close of the classic revival, to the name of the man who was undoubtedly the most remarkable English architect since Wren, Sir Charles Barry. To Barry’s “common-sense” style, in England. class him, as some would do, with the classic revival, would be a misapprehension. Barry was no revivalist; he never attempted to recreate Greek architecture on English soil. He adopted for most of his works what has been called, for want of a better name, the Italian style, which may really rather be called the common-sense style of a civilized society. The two first works which brought him into notice, the Travellers’ and Reform clubs in London, were no doubt based on special Italian models, the Pandolfini and Farnese palaces; but a consideration of his whole career shows that he was in fact anything but a copyist. The comparison of him with Wren is justified by the fact that he was, like Wren, a born architect, in the sense that he grasped every problem presented to him from the true architect’s point of view; with both of them architecture was not the dressing up of an exterior, but the fashioning of a building as a conception based on plan and section as well as on the desire to secure a certain external appearance; and, like Wren, he never failed to grasp the true requirements of a site and to adapt his architectural conception to it; a power perfectly different from that of merely producing agreeable elevations in this or that adopted style. Though very careful of his detail, he did not rely on detail, but on the general conception of an architectural scheme. This power was never so remarkably shown as in his grand scheme, unhappily never carried out, for the concentration of all the British government offices in one great architectural ensemble, which was to extend, on the west of Parliament Street and Whitehall, from Great George Street nearly to Charing Cross, the whole of the buildings to be carried out as one design, distributed into quadrangles, each of which was to be connected with one department of the administration, while all would have internal communication. Had this great idea been carried out we might at the present day have found some of the detail of the building unsatisfying to our taste, as we often find the detail in some of Wren’s buildings, but we should have had a grand architectural achievement which would have made London pre-eminent among the capitals of the world. Nothing so great had been proposed in England since Inigo Jones’s plan for Whitehall Palace, which also survives only in drawings, except the one noble bit of classic architecture known as the Banqueting House (Plate VI., fig. 75). It was one of the greatest misfortunes to London as a capital city that the government of the day could not rise to the height of Barry’s ambitious scheme, in which there was nothing financially insuperable, since it was all designed to be carried out by portions at a time, as funds could be spared; but each government office built would in that way have been one step towards the completion of a great central idea; whereas the nation now spends the same money in erecting detached government buildings which have no architectural connexion with each other.

Returning to the topic of architecture in England, we come, around the end of the classic revival, to the name of the man who was undoubtedly the most remarkable English architect since Wren, Sir Charles Barry. To Barry’s practical style, in England. classify him, as some would do, with the classic revival would be a misunderstanding. Barry was not a revivalist; he never tried to recreate Greek architecture in England. For most of his works, he adopted what has been called, for lack of a better term, the Italian style, which could more accurately be described as the common-sense style of a civilized society. The first two works that brought him into the spotlight, the Travellers’ and Reform clubs in London, were indeed inspired by specific Italian models, the Pandolfini and Farnese palaces; however, a look at his entire career reveals that he was anything but a copyist. The comparison with Wren is justified by the fact that he was, like Wren, a natural architect, in that he approached every problem from the true architect’s perspective; for both of them, architecture was not just about decorating an exterior, but about creating a building based on a plan and section, as well as the desire to achieve a certain outward appearance; and, like Wren, he always understood the true needs of a site and adapted his architectural ideas accordingly; this ability is fundamentally different from simply producing pleasing facades in one style or another. While he paid great attention to detail, he did not depend on it; instead, he focused on the overall concept of an architectural scheme. This ability was never more clearly demonstrated than in his grand design, which unfortunately was never realized, for consolidating all British government offices into one impressive architectural ensemble, meant to extend west of Parliament Street and Whitehall, from Great George Street nearly to Charing Cross, with all the buildings designed as part of one scheme, arranged into quadrangles, each linked to a specific government department, while all would have internal connections. Had this ambitious idea been executed, we might today find some details of the building lacking to our tastes, as we often do with some of Wren’s constructions, but we would have had a monumental architectural accomplishment that would have made London stand out among the capitals of the world. Nothing so grand had been proposed in England since Inigo Jones’s plan for Whitehall Palace, which also exists only in drawings, except for the one magnificent piece of classic architecture known as the Banqueting House (Plate VI., fig. 75). It was one of London’s greatest misfortunes as a capital city that the government of the time could not meet the challenge of Barry’s ambitious plan, which posed no financial obstacles since it was all designed to be executed in phases as funds permitted; each government office built in this way would have been a step closer to completing a great central vision; whereas now the nation spends the same amount on constructing disconnected government buildings that have no architectural connection to each other.

Barry’s two clubs before mentioned are almost ideals of club architecture—the architecture of a civilized society; his Bridge-water House is a building on a larger scale of the same type. That he had architectural ideas less staid and sober than these is shown, however, by the remarkable tower and spire of the Halifax Town Hall (fig. 90), his last work, which he did not live to see carried out, in which he contrived with remarkable success to give the Gothic spirit and multiplicity of effect to a tower which is nevertheless classic in detail. This tower is one of the most original and striking things in modern English architecture and shows how Barry’s architectural ideas were developing up to the close of his life.

Barry’s two previously mentioned clubs are near perfect examples of club architecture—the architecture of a civilized society; his Bridgewater House is a larger version of the same style. However, his more vibrant architectural ideas are evident in the remarkable tower and spire of the Halifax Town Hall (fig. 90), his final project, which he did not live to see completed. In this design, he successfully infused a Gothic spirit and a variety of effects into a tower that remains classic in detail. This tower is one of the most original and striking elements in modern English architecture and demonstrates how Barry’s architectural ideas were evolving until the end of his life.

Barry’s great building, the Houses of Parliament (Plate X., fig. 118), with which his name will always be more especially associated, comes accidentally, though not by natural development nor by his own choice, under the head of the Gothic revival. The style of Tudor Gothic was dictated to the competitors, apparently from a mistaken idea that the building ought to “harmonize” with the architecture of Henry VII.’s chapel adjacent to the site. Had Barry been left to himself, there is no doubt that the Houses of Parliament, with the same main characteristics of plan and grouping, would have been of a classic type of detail, and would possibly have been a still finer building than it is; and since the choice of the Gothic style in this case was not a direct consequence of the Gothic revival movement, it may be considered separately from that. The architectural greatness of the building consists, in the first place, in the grand yet simple scheme of Barry’s plan, with the octagon hall in the centre, as the meeting-point for the public, the two chambers to north and south, and the access to the committee-rooms and other departments subordinate to the chambers. The plan (fig. 91) in itself is a stroke of genius, and has been more or less imitated in buildings for similar purposes all over the world; the most important example, the Parliament House of Budapest (Plate IX., fig. 115 and fig. 92), being almost a literal copy of Barry’s plan. Thus, as in all great architecture, the plan is the basis of the whole scheme, and upon it is built up a most picturesque and expressive grouping, arising directly out of the plan. The two towers are most happily contrasted as expressive of their differing purposes; the Victoria Tower is the symbol of the State entrance, a piece of architectural display solely for the sake of a grand effect; the Clock Tower is a utilitarian structure, a lofty stalk to carry a great clock high in the air; the two are differentiated accordingly, and the placing of them at opposite ends of the structure has the fortunate effect of indicating, from a distance, the extent of the plan. The graceful spire in the centre offers an effective contrast to the masses of the two towers, while forming the outward architectural expression of the octagon hall, which is, as it were, the keystone of the plan.

Barry’s impressive building, the Houses of Parliament (Plate X., fig. 118), which will always be closely linked to his name, falls under the category of the Gothic revival by happenstance, rather than natural progression or his own choice. The Tudor Gothic style was imposed on the competitors, likely based on the mistaken belief that the building should “harmonize” with the architecture of Henry VII’s chapel nearby. If Barry had been left to his own devices, it’s likely that the Houses of Parliament, maintaining the same main characteristics of layout and grouping, would have featured classic detailing, possibly resulting in an even more magnificent structure than it is now; and since the selection of the Gothic style in this case wasn’t a direct result of the Gothic revival movement, it can be viewed separately from that. The architectural greatness of the building primarily lies in the impressive yet straightforward design of Barry’s plan, with the octagon hall at the center serving as a gathering point for the public, the two chambers positioned to the north and south, and access to the committee rooms and other departments linked to the chambers. The plan (fig. 91) is a stroke of genius in itself and has been imitated to varying degrees in buildings designed for similar functions globally; the most notable example is the Parliament House of Budapest (Plate IX., fig. 115 and fig. 92), which closely resembles Barry’s design. Thus, as with all great architecture, the plan is the foundation of the entire scheme, and on it is built a highly picturesque and expressive grouping that emerges directly from the plan. The two towers contrast effectively, representing their different purposes; the Victoria Tower is a symbol of the State entrance, an architectural feature designed solely for dramatic impact; the Clock Tower, on the other hand, is a practical structure, a tall column meant to hold a large clock high in the air; the two are designed accordingly, and placing them at opposite ends of the structure cleverly indicates the size of the plan from afar. The elegant spire in the center provides a stunning contrast to the bulk of the two towers while serving as the architectural expression of the octagon hall, which acts as the keystone of the design.

The detail is another consideration. Barry, having had a style forced upon him (most unwisely), which he had not studied much and with which he was not much in sympathy, associated Pugin with him to design a good deal of the detail; exactly how much is not certainly known; probably Pugin was responsible for all the interior detail and fittings; the exterior detail may have been only suggested or sketched by him. On this ground absurd attempts have been made, by people who do not seem to understand what architecture in the true sense means, to claim for Pugin what they call the “artistic merit” of the Houses of Parliament. The artistic merit consists in the whole plan, conception and grouping, which 432 are entirely Barry’s, and which represent something beyond Pugin’s grasp; the detail is in fact the weak element in the building. That Pugin’s Gothic detail is better than Barry’s would have been is very likely the case; but had Barry been left unfettered to work out the detail in his own school, the result would probably have been still better. Even as it is, however, the Houses of Parliament is one of the finest buildings in the world, ancient or modern, and it is to be regretted that Englishmen generally seem to be so little aware of this.

The detail is another factor to consider. Barry, who had a style imposed on him (very unwise), that he hadn't studied much and wasn't really aligned with, worked with Pugin to create a lot of the details. It's not clear how much exactly; likely, Pugin was responsible for all the interior details and fittings, while the exterior details may have only been suggested or sketched by him. On this basis, ridiculous claims have been made by people who don't seem to grasp what architecture truly means, trying to attribute to Pugin what they refer to as the “artistic merit” of the Houses of Parliament. The artistic merit lies in the overall design, concept, and arrangement, which are entirely Barry’s and represent something beyond Pugin’s reach; the details are actually the weakest part of the building. It's very likely that Pugin’s Gothic details are better than what Barry would have created, but if Barry had been free to develop the details in his own style, the outcome would probably have been even better. Even so, the Houses of Parliament is one of the most impressive buildings in the world, both old and new, and it’s a shame that most English people seem to be so unaware of this.

 

431

431

HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT, WESTMINSTER.
Fig. 91.

1. Reading Clerk.

Reading Clerk.

2. Dressing Room.

2. Changing Room.

3. Clerk of the Parliament.

Parliament Clerk.

4. Clerk Assistant’s Dressing Room.

4. Clerk Assistant's Break Room.

5. Clerk Assistant.

Clerk Assistant.

6. Clerk, House of Lords.

6. Clerk, House of Lords.

7. Messengers.

7. Messages.

8. Waiting Room.

Waiting Area.

9. Lord Chancellor’s Secretaries.

9. Secretaries of the Lord Chancellor.

10. Lord Chancellor.

10. Chancellor.

11. Lord Chancellor’s Dressing Room.

Lord Chancellor's Dressing Room.

12 Permanent Secretary.

12 Permanent Secretary.

13. Sergeant-at-Arms.

Sergeant at Arms.

14. Yeoman Usher of the Black Rod.

14. Yeoman Usher of the Black Rod.

15. Private Bill Office.

15. Private Bill Office.

16. Chairman’s Dressing

Chairman's Outfit

17. Chairman of Committees.

Chair of Committees.

18. Clerk to Private Bill and Taxing Office.

18. Clerk to the Private Bill and Tax Office.

19. Chairman of Committees Counsel.

Committees Chair Counsel.

20. Royal Staircase.

Royal Staircase.

21. Clerk to Public Bills.

Clerk for Public Bills.

22. Minutes.

22 minutes.

23. Peers’ Staircase.

Peers' Staircase.

24. Inner Office.

24. Private Office.

25. Printed Papers Office.

Printed Documents Office.

26. Private Bills and Taxing Office.

26. Private Bills and Tax Office.

27. Earl Marshal.

27. Chief Herald.

28. Strangers’ and Reporters’ Stairs.

28. Strangers’ and Reporters’ Steps.

29. Peers’ Standing Order Committee Room.

29. Peers' Standing Order Committee Room.

30. The Thrones.

30. The Throne Series.

31. Bar of the House.

House Bar.

32. Leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords.

32. Leader of the Opposition in the House of Lords.

33. Premier.

33. Prime.

34. Telegraph.

Text message.

35. Solicitor-General.

Solicitor General.

36. Attorney-General.

Attorney General.

37. Lord Advocate.

Lord Advocate.

38. Resident Superintendent.

Building Manager.

39. Archbishops.

Archbishops.

40. Principal Stairs.

Main Stairs.

41. Residence of the Yeoman Usher of the Black Rod.

41. Home of the Yeoman Usher of the Black Rod.

42. Sitting Room.

Living Room.

43. Residence of the Clerk of Parliament.

43. Residence of the Clerk of Parliament.

44. Members’ Entrance.

Members Only Entrance.

45. Dining Room of the Deputy Sergeant-at-Arms.

45. Dining Room of the Deputy Sergeant-at-Arms.

46. Turret Room.

Turret Room.

47. Private Stairs of the Deputy Sergeant-at-Arms.

47. Private Stairs of the Deputy Sergeant-at-Arms.

48. Journal Office Stores.

Office Supply Stores.

49. Police.

Cops.

50. Ministers.

Ministers.

51. Opposition Ministers.

Opposition Ministers.

52. Members’ Entrance Stairs.

Members' Entrance Stairs.

53. Members’ Conference Room.

Members' Conference Room.

54. Members’ Private Secretaries

Members' Personal Assistants

55. Members’ Small Conference Room.

Members' Small Meeting Room.

56. Votes and Proceedings.

Votes and Proceedings.

57. Accountant and Chief Public Bill Office.

57. Accountant and Head of the Public Bill Office.

58. Old Treasury Stairs.

Old Treasury Steps.

59. Post Master.

Postmaster.

60. Strangers’ Stairs.

Strangers' Stairs.

61. Cistern Tower.

Cistern Tower.

62. Irish Whips.

62. Irish Whips.

63 Government Whips.

63 Government Whips.

64. Opposition Whips.

Opposition Whips.

65. Deputy Sergeant-at-Arms.

Deputy Sergeant-at-Arms.

66. Clerk to Deputy Sergeant-at-Arms.

Clerk to Deputy Sergeant-at-Arms.

67. Speaker’s Counsel.

67. Speaker's Advocate.

68. Speaker’s Counsel’s Clerk.

Speaker’s Counsel Clerk.

69. Vote Office.

Vote Office.

70. Bar Lobby.

70. Bar Lounge.

71. Speaker’s Lobby.

71. Speaker's Lounge.

72. Ministers.

Ministers.

73. Clerk Assistant.

Clerk Assistant.

74. Train Bearers.

74. Train Operators.

75. Speaker’s Retiring Room.

75. Speaker's Lounge.

76. Old Prison Rooms Lobby.

Old Jail Rooms Lobby.

77. Sergeant-at-Arms’ Smoking Room.

Sergeant-at-Arms' Lounge.

78. Clock Weight Shaft.

Clock Weight Shaft.

79. Air Shaft.

79. Vent Shaft.

80. Smoking Room Lobby.

80. Smoking Lounge Lobby.

81. Butler.

Butler.

82. Speaker’s Secretary.

Speaker's Assistant.

83. Audience Room.

Audience Chamber.

84. Times Reporters.

84. Times Journalists.

85. Strangers’ Gallery.

Strangers' Gallery.

86. Waste Paper.

Recyclable Paper.

87. Mess.

87. Chaos.

Fig. 92.—Plan of the Parliament House, Budapest. (Steindl.)

We may now turn to consider the Gothic Revival movement itself, of which Pugin was one of the most important pioneers. New ideas, however, as to the importance of Gothic architecture had been in the air before he came on the scene, and The Gothic Revival, England. quite early in the century John Britten’s Architectural Antiquities of Great Britain and Cathedral Antiquities, with their beautiful steel engravings by Le Keux, had done much to call attention to the neglected beauty of English medieval churches; and Thomas Rickman’s remarkable and (for its day) masterly analysis of the variations of style in Gothic architecture, which first appeared in 1817, and went through edition after edition in succeeding years, gave the first intelligent direction to the study of the subject. Pugin supplied to the movement not analysis, but passion. He had the merit of having perceived, when quite a youth, that one thing wanted was better craftsmanship, and that craftsmanship in the medieval period was something very different from what it was in the early Victorian period; he set up an atelier of craftsmen, and was the real pioneer of what may be called the Arts and Crafts movement in England. An enthusiast by nature, he flung his whole soul into the task of reviving, as he believed, the glory of English medieval architecture; nothing else in architecture was worth thinking of; Classic and Renaissance were only worth sarcasm. The result in his works was a curious inconsistency. Pugin was not in the true sense a great architect; his mind was not practical enough to grasp an architectural problem as a whole, plan and building combined; in fact, he was no master of plan, and does not seem to have troubled himself much about it. But he had a remarkable perception of interior effect; whenever you go into one of his churches you recognize the desire to realize the greatest effect of height, the most soaring effect of lines, possible within the actual vertical measurements. But in his passion for this soaring expression he seems to have entirely lost sight of the essential quality of solidity and genuineness of material in the medieval architecture which he was trying to emulate or to outvie. So long as he could get his effect of height, his poetic interior, he was content to have thin walls and plaster vaults and ornaments; or, in other words, he spent upon height what should first have been spent upon solid and monumental building. The result has been gently but effectively satirized by Browning in “Bishop Blougram’s Apology”:—

We can now focus on the Gothic Revival movement itself, with Pugin being one of its key pioneers. However, there were already emerging ideas about the significance of Gothic architecture before he arrived, and early in the century, John Britten’s Architectural Antiquities of Great Britain and Cathedral Antiquities, featuring stunning steel engravings by Le Keux, drew attention to the overlooked beauty of English medieval churches. Additionally, Thomas Rickman’s exceptional and, for its time, groundbreaking analysis of the different styles in Gothic architecture, which first came out in 1817 and continued through many editions over the years, provided the first thoughtful direction for studying the subject. Pugin contributed to the movement not through analysis but through passion. He recognized early on that better craftsmanship was needed and that craftsmanship in the medieval period was very different from that of the early Victorian period; he established a workshop of craftsmen and truly led what we can call the Arts and Crafts movement in England. Naturally enthusiastic, he dedicated himself fully to the task of reviving what he believed to be the greatness of English medieval architecture; he thought nothing else in architecture mattered; Classic and Renaissance styles were only worthy of sarcasm. This resulted in an interesting inconsistency in his works. Pugin was not a great architect in the true sense; he didn’t have a practical enough mindset to understand an architectural problem as a whole—planning and building together; in fact, he wasn’t a master of planning and didn’t seem to concern himself much with it. But he had a remarkable sense of interior effect; whenever you step into one of his churches, you can feel his desire to create the highest possible effect of height and the most uplifting lines within the actual vertical measurements. Yet, in his passion for this soaring expression, he seemed to completely overlook the essential qualities of solidity and authenticity in the materials of the medieval architecture he sought to emulate or surpass. As long as he achieved his desired height and poetic interior, he was okay with using thin walls, plaster vaults, and decorations; in other words, he prioritized height over what should have initially been dedicated to solid and monumental construction. The outcome has been gently but effectively mocked by Browning in “Bishop Blougram’s Apology”:—

“It’s different preaching in Basilicas

“Preaching in Basilicas is different.”

To doing duty in some masterpiece

To perform a duty in some masterpiece

Like this of brother Pugin’s, bless his heart.

Like this from brother Pugin’s, bless his heart.

I doubt if they’re half-baked, those chalk rosettes,

I doubt they’re half-baked, those chalk rosettes,

Ciphers and stucco-twiddlings everywhere;

Ciphers and stucco decorations everywhere;

It’s just like breathing in a limekiln, eh?”

It’s just like breathing in a lime kiln, right?”

It is too true; and there is something pathetic in Pugin’s career, in this passionate and sincere pursuit after a revival of the medieval spirit in life and in architecture—a pursuit which towards the close of his life he himself evidently more than half suspected to have been a fallacy.

It’s undeniably true; there’s something tragic about Pugin’s life in his intense and genuine quest to revive the medieval spirit in both life and architecture—a quest that, by the end of his life, he seemed to suspect was more of a delusion than a reality.

The full tide of the Gothic revival is connected more especially with the name of Sir Gilbert Scott. He was hardly a pure enthusiast like Pugin; he was a shrewd man of the world, the commencement of whose professional career coincided with the rising tide of ecclesiological reform, and he had the ability to make the best of the opportunity. He appears to have had, even as a child, an inborn interest in church architecture and in Gothic detail (witness the description, in his Memoirs, of his astonishment and interest, at the age of eleven, at the first sight of capitals of the Early English type), and he acquired by unremitting study a knowledge of English Gothic architecture in its every detail which few architects have ever equalled. His numerous churches were, intentionally and confessedly, as close reproductions as possible of medieval architecture, generally that of the Early Decorated period; and if it were desirable that modern church architecture should consist in the reproduction of medieval churches, the task could not have been carried out with more learning and exactitude than it was by him. It was this minute and accurate knowledge of medieval church architecture which made him such a power when the idea of restoring English cathedrals became popular. He had an acquired instinct in tracing out the existence of details which had been overlaid by modern repairs or plasterwork; in going over a cathedral to decide on a scheme of restoration he seemed to know it as an anatomist knows the suggestions of a fossil skeleton; and in the course of his restorations he unearthed many points in the architectural history of the buildings which but for him would never have been elucidated. We now recognize that much of this “restoration” was a mistake, which destroyed the real interest of the cathedrals; and it is unhappily a mistake which cannot be undone. But the violent reproaches which have been heaped upon Scott’s memory on this account are rather unjust. It is forgotten that he was doing what at the time every one 433 considered to be the right thing; cathedral bodies vied with each other in restoration, and were enthusiastic in the cause; there were few if any dissenting voices; and in regard to the interiors of the cathedrals which were in modern use as places of worship, much that he did really required to be done to put them into decent condition. His churches have ceased to be interesting now, as is usually the case with copied architecture; but when they were built they were exactly what every one wanted and was asking for. And he produced at all events one original work which is a great deal better than it is now the fashion to think—the Albert Memorial. It is injured by the statue, for which the commission went to the wrong sculptor; but Scott’s idea of producing, as he phrased it, “a shrine on a great scale,” was really a fine one, and finely carried out. The most important objection to it is one which popular criticism does not recognize, viz. that the vault is tied by concealed iron ties, and would hardly be safe without them. But apart from that it is a fine conception, and Scott was right in regarding it as his best work.

The peak of the Gothic revival is especially linked to Sir Gilbert Scott. He wasn't a pure enthusiast like Pugin; he was a savvy, worldly individual whose professional career began at the same time as the rise of ecclesiological reform, and he knew how to seize the opportunity. Even as a child, he had a natural interest in church architecture and Gothic details (as seen in his Memoirs, where he describes his shock and fascination at the age of eleven upon first seeing Early English capitals). Through relentless study, he gained a detailed understanding of English Gothic architecture that few architects have matched. His many churches were deliberately and openly aimed at being as close to medieval architecture as possible, mainly from the Early Decorated period. If modern church architecture was meant to replicate medieval churches, no one could have done it with more knowledge and precision than he did. His deep and accurate knowledge of medieval church architecture made him a key figure when the idea of restoring English cathedrals became popular. He had a knack for discovering details that were covered up by modern repairs or plasterwork; when exploring a cathedral to decide on a restoration plan, he seemed to know it as well as an anatomist knows a fossil skeleton. Throughout his restorations, he uncovered many aspects of the architectural history of these buildings that would have remained unclear without him. Nowadays, we recognize that much of this “restoration” was a mistake that diminished the true appeal of the cathedrals, and unfortunately, it’s a mistake that can’t be reversed. However, the harsh criticism directed at Scott's memory for this is somewhat unfair. It’s overlooked that he was simply doing what everyone at the time considered to be the right thing; cathedral organizations competed with each other in the restoration efforts and were passionate about the cause, with few, if any, dissenting voices. Regarding the interiors of the cathedrals that were actively used for worship, much of what he did was genuinely necessary to bring them into decent condition. His churches might not seem interesting now, which is often the case with copied architecture; however, when they were constructed, they were precisely what people wanted. He also created at least one original work that is far better than it's currently fashionable to think—the Albert Memorial. It suffers from the statue, which was commissioned from the wrong sculptor; but Scott’s idea of creating, as he described it, “a shrine on a great scale,” was a brilliant one and was executed beautifully. The main criticism of it—one that popular opinion often overlooks—is that the vault is supported by hidden iron ties and wouldn't be safe without them. But aside from that, it’s a remarkable concept, and Scott was right to consider it his best work.

G.E. Street, who was a pupil of Scott, was a greater enthusiast for medieval architecture (which, with him, as with Pugin, included medieval religion) than even Scott, and an architect of greater force and individuality. He was especially devoted to the early Transitional type of Gothic, and in all his buildings there is apparent the feeling for the solidity and monumental character, and the reticence in the use of ornament, which is characteristic of the Transitional period. His churches are noteworthy for their monumental character; and he had a remarkable faculty for giving an appearance of scale and dignity to the interiors of comparatively small churches. Hence his modern-medieval churches retain their interest more than Scott’s, but in respect of secular architecture his taste was hopelessly medievalized, and his great building, the law courts in London, can only be regarded as a costly failure; it is not even beautiful except in regard to some good detail; it is badly planned; and the one fine interior feature, the great vaulted hall, is rendered useless by not being on the same floor with the courts, so that instead of being a salle des pas perdus it is a desert. Street’s career is a warning how real architectural talent and vigour may be stultified by a sentimental adherence to a past phase of architecture. No modern architect had more fully penetrated the spirit of Gothic architecture, and his nave of Bristol cathedral is as good as genuine medieval work, and might pass for such when time-worn; but that is rather archaeology than architecture.

G.E. Street, a student of Scott, was even more passionate about medieval architecture—which, for him like Pugin, also included medieval religion—than Scott himself, and he was a more powerful and distinctive architect. He had a special love for the early Transitional style of Gothic architecture, and his buildings clearly reflect a sense of solidity and monumental presence, along with a restrained use of ornament typical of the Transitional period. His churches are known for their monumental quality, and he had a remarkable ability to create a sense of scale and dignity in relatively small church interiors. As a result, his modern-medieval churches are often more engaging than Scott’s. However, when it comes to secular architecture, his style was overly tied to medieval influences, and his major project, the law courts in London, can only be seen as an expensive failure; it isn’t even beautiful apart from a few good details, it's poorly designed, and the one impressive interior feature, the grand vaulted hall, is rendered ineffective since it’s not on the same level as the courts, turning it into a wasteland instead of a salle des pas perdus. Street’s career serves as a cautionary tale of how genuine architectural talent and energy can be stifled by a sentimental attachment to a bygone architectural phase. No modern architect understood the essence of Gothic architecture as fully as he did, and his nave at Bristol Cathedral is as impressive as authentic medieval work and could easily be mistaken for one when aged; but that leans more towards archaeology than true architecture.

The competition for the law courts was one of the great architectural events of the middle of the century, and made or raised the reputation even of some of the unsuccessful competitors. Edward Barry (the son of Sir Charles) gained the first place for “plan,” which the advisers of the government had foolishly separated from “design” (as if the plan of a building could be considered apart from the architectural conception!), giving first marks for plan, and second for design. E. Barry therefore had really gained the competition, “design,” which was awarded to Street, counting second; but Street managed to push him out, and it is a nemesis on him for this by no means loyal proceeding that the building he contrived to get entirely into his own hands has served to injure rather than benefit his reputation. William Burges (1827-1881), an ardent devotee of French early Gothic, produced a design in that style, which, though quite unsuitable practically, is a greater evidence of architectural power than is furnished by any of his executed buildings. J.P. Seddon (1828-1906), an old adherent of Rossetti and the pre-Raphaelite brotherhood, an architect of genius who never got his opportunity, produced a design which was wildly picturesque in appearance but in reality more practical than might be thought at first sight, and his proposal for a great Record tower for housing official records was a really fine and original idea.

The competition for the law courts was one of the significant architectural events of the mid-century, and it even boosted the reputation of some of the unsuccessful entrants. Edward Barry (the son of Sir Charles) won first place for "plan," which the government's advisers foolishly separated from "design" (as if the plan of a building could be viewed independently from the architectural concept!). Thus, E. Barry actually won the competition for "design," which was awarded to Street, who came in second; however, Street managed to push him out, and as a consequence of this quite disloyal maneuver, the building that he somehow secured control over ended up harming rather than enhancing his reputation. William Burges (1827-1881), a passionate admirer of early French Gothic, created a design in that style, which, although completely impractical, demonstrates more architectural prowess than any of his completed buildings. J.P. Seddon (1828-1906), an old supporter of Rossetti and the pre-Raphaelite brotherhood, was a talented architect who never had his chance; he produced a design that looked wildly picturesque but was actually more practical than it might seem at first glance, and his idea for a grand Record tower to house official documents was genuinely excellent and original.

Among the ecclesiastical buildings of the Gothic revival those of William Butterfield (1814-1900), much less numerous than those of Scott and Street, have a special interest as the work of a revival architect who was something more than a mere archaeologist. All Saints, Margaret Street (1859), is the production of an architectural artist using medieval materials to carry out a conception of his own, and hence, like Babbacombe church and others by the same hand, it has an interest for the present day which Scott’s churches have not. His Keble College chapel rather failed from an exaggeration of the use of polychromatic materials, which in some of his other churches he had used with moderation and with good effect. J.L. Pearson was another distinguished architect of the later period of the Gothic revival who was able to put something of his own into modern Gothic churches. No one was more learned in medieval architecture than he was; and as of Street’s nave of Bristol, so we may say of Pearson’s nave of Truro, that it is as good as medieval Gothic; indeed Truro nave is finer in character than some of the ancient cathedral naves, and represents pure Gothic at its best. But in the exteriors of his churches, as at Truro and in the churches of Kilburn and Red Lion Square, Pearson evolved a Gothic of his own which is Pearsonesque and not merely archaeological. James Brooks (1825-1901) also deserves an honoured place in the chronicle of the Gothic revival for being the first to show how large town churches might be erected in brick (fig. 93), in which largeness of scale and a certain grandeur of effect could be obtained without extravagant cost, and in which it was practically demonstrated that architecture in the true Gothic spirit could be produced without depending on ornament.

Among the church buildings from the Gothic revival, those by William Butterfield (1814-1900), although fewer than those by Scott and Street, are particularly interesting because he was more than just a revivalist architect. All Saints, Margaret Street (1859), is a work of an architectural artist who used medieval materials to express his own vision, and like Babbacombe church and other works by him, it holds contemporary significance that Scott’s churches do not. His Keble College chapel somewhat missed the mark with an overuse of colorful materials, which he had applied with moderation and effectiveness in some of his other churches. J.L. Pearson was another notable architect from the later Gothic revival period who infused his own style into modern Gothic churches. He was extremely knowledgeable about medieval architecture, and like Street’s nave at Bristol, Pearson’s nave at Truro is as impressive as medieval Gothic; in fact, Truro's nave is even more characterful than some ancient cathedral naves, showcasing pure Gothic at its best. However, in the exteriors of his churches, like those at Truro and in Kilburn and Red Lion Square, Pearson developed a unique Gothic style that is distinctly Pearsonesque rather than just archaeological. James Brooks (1825-1901) also earns a respected position in the history of the Gothic revival for being the first to demonstrate that large town churches could be built in brick (fig. 93), achieving substantial scale and a sense of grandeur without excessive expense, practically proving that true Gothic spirit architecture could be created without reliance on ornamentation.

Fig. 93.—Exterior of modern English Church. (James Brooks.)

Alfred Waterhouse began his remarkable career as an adherent of the Gothic revival, and merits separate mention inasmuch as he was the only one of the Gothic revivalists who from the first set himself to adapt Gothic to secular uses and to make out of it a modern Gothic manner of his own. His first success was made with the Manchester law courts, a design more purely Gothic than his later works, and an admirably planned building (the only good point in the national law courts plan, the access to the public galleries, is taken from it); his special style was more developed in the Manchester town hall, a building typical both of the defects and merits of his secular Gothic style. This style of his received the compliment, for a good many years, of an immense amount of imitation; in fact, during that earlier period of his work it may be said to have influenced every secular building that was erected in the medieval style all over England. His Gothic detail was, however, not very refined, and he has been subject to the same kind of retrospective injustice which has fallen on Scott, critics in both instances forgetting that what they do not like now was what every one liked then, and could not have enough of. Waterhouse was a master of plan, and a man of immense business and administrative ability, without which he could not have carried out the 434 number of great building schemes which fell into his hands, and he had much more of the qualities of a great architect than are to be found in the works of some of his latter-day critics. His later works, one or two of which will be referred to, do not come under the head of the Gothic revival.

Alfred Waterhouse started his impressive career as a supporter of the Gothic revival and deserves special mention because he was the only Gothic revivalist who initially aimed to adapt Gothic architecture for secular purposes, creating a modern Gothic style of his own. His first major success was with the Manchester law courts, a design that was more purely Gothic than his later works, and an excellently planned building (the only strong point in the national law courts plan, the access to the public galleries, was taken from it); his unique style was further developed in the Manchester town hall, a building that exemplifies both the flaws and strengths of his secular Gothic style. For many years, this style was widely imitated; in fact, during the earlier part of his career, it can be said to have influenced nearly every secular building constructed in the medieval style throughout England. However, his Gothic details were not very refined, and he faced the same kind of unjust criticism that Scott did, with critics forgetting that what they dislike now was once widely appreciated then and in high demand. Waterhouse was a master planner and possessed significant business and administrative skills, without which he could not have managed the many major construction projects that came his way, and he had far more of the qualities of a great architect than can be found in the works of some of his later critics. His later works, a few of which will be mentioned, do not fall under the category of the Gothic revival.

In France, the Gothic revival, which so strongly affected the whole school of English architecture for thirty or forty years, took little hold. Its most remarkable monument is the church of Ste Clotilde at Paris, built about the France. middle of the century from the designs of Ballu. In size it equals a second-class cathedral, and is a fine monument, though it does not show that complete knowledge of medieval Gothic which we find in the churches of Scott, Street, Pearson and G.F. Bodley. But as with the Classic, so with the Gothic revival—the leading French architects of the period had too much personal architectural feeling to be carried along in the wake of a “movement.” Two very important Paris churches, built just after the middle of the century, illustrate well this independence of spirit. The one is the domed church of St Augustin in the Boulevard Malesherbes (Plate XII., fig. 122), designed by Victor Baltard (1805-1874). It may be called a Classic church treated in a quasi-Byzantine manner. A remarkable point about it is that, standing between the divergence of two streets at an acute angle, the outer walls of the nave follow the line of the two streets, the church thus expanding towards the centre; internally the colonnades are parallel, the chapels outside of them increasing in depth from the entrance of the nave towards the centre—a very clever device for reconciling exterior and interior effect. The other church referred to, built about the same time, is La Trinité (Plate XII., fig. 123) by Théodore Ballu (1817-1885)—a church which is Renaissance in detail and yet distinctly Gothic in its general effect and in the multiplicity of its detail, somewhat recalling in this sense Barry’s Halifax tower before referred to. The sense in which there has really been a general movement in church architecture in France has been in the direction of a kind of modernized Byzantine, of which one of the earliest and best examples is the church of St Pierre de Montrouge, by Joseph Auguste E. Vaudremer (Plate XII., fig. 124). A later and more important example is the cathedral of Marseilles, by Leon Vaudoyer (1803-1872) and Henry Espérandieu (1829-1874), a mingling of Romanesque and Byzantine, and in many respects a fine building (Plate XIII., fig. 126). This modern feeling in favour of a Byzantine type of church architecture culminated in the great church of the Sacré Coeur on Montmartre, at Paris, begun in the early ’eighties from the designs of Paul Abadie (1812-1884). This grand building stands on a most effective site, and is of a monumental solidity seldom met with in modern architecture; it is more pure and consistent in style than many of the smaller churches of the same school of architecture. These latter are not for the most part very attractive; they represent in general a kind of Frenchified Byzantine detail which exhibits neither Byzantine spirit nor French grace and finish; and on the whole it may be said that church architecture is the field in which the French architects of the 19th century were least successful.

In France, the Gothic revival, which had a significant influence on English architecture for thirty or forty years, didn't take strong hold here. Its most notable monument is the church of Ste Clotilde in Paris, built around the middle of the century based on designs by Ballu. In size, it matches a second-class cathedral and serves as an impressive monument, though it doesn’t display the complete understanding of medieval Gothic seen in the churches by Scott, Street, Pearson, and G.F. Bodley. Like with Classic architecture, the leading French architects of the time had too much personal architectural vision to simply follow a “movement.” Two major churches in Paris, constructed just after the mid-century, exemplify this independent spirit. One is the domed church of St Augustin on the Boulevard Malesherbes (Plate XII., fig. 122), designed by Victor Baltard (1805-1874). It can be described as a Classic church with a quasi-Byzantine treatment. A notable aspect is that, positioned at the intersection of two streets at an angle, the outer walls of the nave align with the street lines, allowing the church to expand toward the center; internally, the colonnades are parallel, with the chapels outside them deepening from the nave entrance to the center—a clever solution for balancing external and internal visuals. The other church mentioned, built around the same time, is La Trinité (Plate XII., fig. 123) by Théodore Ballu (1817-1885)—a church that features Renaissance details while having a distinctly Gothic overall effect and intricate details, somewhat reminiscent of Barry’s Halifax tower previously mentioned. The broader movement in church architecture in France has leaned towards a modernized Byzantine style, with one of the earliest and finest examples being the church of St Pierre de Montrouge, designed by Joseph Auguste E. Vaudremer (Plate XII., fig. 124). A later and more significant example is the cathedral of Marseilles, created by Leon Vaudoyer (1803-1872) and Henry Espérandieu (1829-1874), blending Romanesque and Byzantine styles, and is a remarkable structure in many respects (Plate XIII., fig. 126). This modern embrace of Byzantine church architecture peaked with the grand church of the Sacré Coeur on Montmartre in Paris, which began construction in the early 1880s based on the designs of Paul Abadie (1812-1884). This impressive building is situated on a striking site and is built with a monumental solidity rarely seen in modern architecture; it is more pure and cohesive in style than many of the smaller churches from the same architectural school. Most of these smaller churches are not particularly attractive; they generally exhibit a kind of Frenchified Byzantine detail that lacks both Byzantine spirit and French elegance and refinement. Overall, it can be said that church architecture was the area where 19th-century French architects were least successful.

As regards secular buildings, on the other hand, the Paris of the middle portion of the 19th century can show some of the most unquestionable architectural successes of the period. The modern portions of the Palais de Justice by Louis Joseph Duc (1802-1879)—not Viollet-le-Duc, as is often mistakenly asserted in guide-books—and of the École des Beaux-Arts, by Jacques Félix Duban (1797-1870), are among the best examples of the application of classic forms of architecture to modern buildings; and the Bibliothèque Ste Geneviève (Plate XIII., fig. 128), by Henri Labrouste (1801-1875), was in its day (about 1850) a new creation in applied classic architecture; a building in which the exterior design was entirely subservient to and expressive of the requirements of a library, a large portion of the wall being left unpierced for the storage of books, windows being only inserted where they did not interfere with this object; and the manner in which these walls are treated so as to produce a decorative architectural effect without having recourse to sham colonnades and sham window openings, was entirely new at the time in modern work. It is instructive to compare this design with that of the Bank of England, as examples of the right and the wrong way of treating buildings in which much blank wall space was required. The new buildings of the Louvre (Plate XIV., fig. 129), built under Napoleon III. from the designs of Louis Tullius Joachim Visconti (1791-1853), are not to be passed over, though they have too much of the showy and flaunting character which belonged to both the society and the art of the Second Empire; a fault which also destroys some of the value of the Grand Opera house, a remarkable work by a remarkable architect (Jean Louis Charles Garnier), and typical, more than any other structure, of the epoch in which it was built. Some of its effect it owes to the admirable painting and sculpture with which it is decorated, but the grand staircase is a fine architectural conception (see Garnier).

As for secular buildings, on the flip side, mid-19th century Paris showcases some of the most undeniable architectural achievements of that time. The modern parts of the Palais de Justice, designed by Louis Joseph Duc (1802-1879)—not Viollet-le-Duc, as is often mistakenly noted in guidebooks—and of the École des Beaux-Arts, created by Jacques Félix Duban (1797-1870), are among the best examples of how classic architectural styles were adapted for modern buildings. The Bibliothèque Ste Geneviève (Plate XIII., fig. 128), designed by Henri Labrouste (1801-1875), was a groundbreaking example of applied classic architecture around 1850; it featured an exterior design that completely prioritized and reflected the needs of a library, with large sections of the wall left uninterrupted for book storage, and windows only placed where they wouldn't interfere with that purpose. The way these walls were treated to create a decorative architectural effect without relying on fake colonnades or faux window openings was entirely novel for modern architecture at the time. It’s interesting to compare this design to that of the Bank of England, which illustrates the right and wrong methods of dealing with buildings that require substantial blank wall space. The new buildings at the Louvre (Plate XIV., fig. 129), constructed during Napoleon III's reign from designs by Louis Tullius Joachim Visconti (1791-1853), shouldn't be overlooked, even though they have a somewhat ostentatious character reflecting the society and art of the Second Empire—this flaw also diminishes some of the value of the Grand Opera house, a remarkable work by an exceptional architect (Jean Louis Charles Garnier) that is more representative of its era than any other structure. Part of its impact comes from the superb paintings and sculptures adorning it, but the grand staircase is a brilliant architectural idea (see Garnier).

In England and in the United States, the last quarter of the 19th century was a period of unusual interest and activity in architectural development. While other nations have been content to carry on their architecture, for the Recent English architecture. most part, on the old scholastic lines which had been prevalent since the Renaissance, in the two countries named there has been manifest a spirit of unrest, of critical inquiry into the basis and objects of architecture; an aspiration to make new and original creations in or applications of the art, without example in any other period in the modern history of architecture. In England, the “note”—heard with increasing shrillness of crescendo towards the very last year of the century—was the cry for originality, for throwing off the trammels of the past, for rendering architecture more truly a direct expression of the conditions of practical requirement and of structure. This was no doubt to some extent the effect of a reaction. During the greater part of the century architectural strength, as has been already shown, had been spent in revivals of past styles. Churches indeed, up to the close of the century, continued to be built, for the most part, in revived Gothic; but this was owing to special clerical influence, which saw in Gothic a style specially consecrated to church architecture, and would be satisfied, as a rule, with nothing else. Efforts have been made by architects to modify the medieval church plan into something more practically suited to modern congregational worship, by a system of reducing the side aisles to mere narrow passages for access to the seats, thus retaining the architectural effect of the arcade, while keeping it out of the way of the seated congregation; and there have been occasional reversions to the ancient Christian basilica type of plan, or sometimes, as in the church in Davies Street, London, attempts to treat a church in a manner entirely independent of architectural precedent; but in the main, Gothic has continued to rule for churches. Apart from this special class of building, however, revived Gothic began to droop during the ’seventies. All had been copied that could be copied, and the result, to the architectural mind, was not satisfaction but satiety. Gothic began to be regarded as “played out.” The immediate result, however, was not an organized attempt to think for ourselves, and make our own style, but a recourse to another class of precedent, represented in the type of early “Queen Anne.” 18th-century building which became known as “Queen Anne,” and which, like Gothic before it, was now to be recommended as “essentially English,” as in fact it is. It can hardly, however, be called an architectural style; it would have no right to figure in any work illustrating the great architectural styles of the world. It was, in fact, the last dying phase of the English Renaissance; the architecture of the classic order reduced to a threadbare condition, treated very simply and in plain materials, in many cases shorn of its columnar features, and reflecting faithfully enough the prim rationalistic taste in literature and art of the England of the 18th century. Though not to be dignified as a style, it was, however, a recognizable and consistent manner in building; it made extensive use of brick, a material inexpensive and at the same time very well suited to the English climate and atmosphere; and it was generally carried out in very solid proportions, and with very good workmanship. To a generation tired of imitating a great 435 style at second hand, this unpretending and simple model was a welcome relief, and led to the erection of a considerable number of modern buildings, dwelling-houses especially, the obvious aim of which was to look as like 18th-century buildings as possible. A typical example is the large London house by Norman Shaw, at the corner of Queen’s Gate and Imperial Institute Road The Chelsea town hall (fig. 94), by J.M. Brydon (1840-1901), is a good example of a public building in the revived Queen Anne style.

In England and the United States, the last quarter of the 19th century was a time of significant interest and activity in architectural development. While other countries were mostly sticking to the traditional styles that had been common since the Renaissance, both of these countries showed a clear desire for change, a questioning of the foundations and purposes of architecture; a wish to create new and original designs in the art that had no precedent in any other time in modern architectural history. In England, the increasing call for originality, which peaked in the final year of the century, was a push to break free from the constraints of the past and to make architecture a true reflection of practical needs and structural realities. This was partly due to a backlash. For much of the century, architectural efforts had been focused on reviving older styles. Churches, in particular, continued to be constructed mainly in revived Gothic until the end of the century, largely because of the influence of the clergy, who believed Gothic was the only suitable style for church architecture. Architects attempted to adapt the medieval church layout to better suit modern congregational worship, simplifying the side aisles to narrow paths for access to seats while maintaining the visual impact of the arcade, keeping it unobtrusive for seated worshippers. There were also occasional returns to the ancient Christian basilica layout or, as seen in the church on Davies Street, London, attempts to design a church without following traditional architectural examples; however, Gothic architecture remained dominant for churches. Outside this specific type of building, though, revived Gothic began to decline in the 1870s. Everything that could be imitated had been, and rather than bringing satisfaction, it led to a sense of oversaturation. Gothic started to be seen as "played out." The immediate response, however, wasn't a collective effort to create a new style; instead, it was a turn to another set of examples, particularly the early 18th-century architecture known as “Queen Anne,” which, much like Gothic before it, was promoted as “essentially English,” and rightly so. However, it can hardly be classified as a distinct architectural style; it wouldn't deserve a spot in any book highlighting the great architectural styles of the world. Rather, it represented the fading phase of the English Renaissance, showcasing classical elements that had become worn, treated simply with basic materials, often stripped of its columnar features, reflecting the rational and straightforward tastes in literature and art of 18th-century England. Although it shouldn't be called a true style, it did present a recognizable and consistent manner of building; it extensively used brick, a material that was affordable and well-suited to the British climate; and it was generally built with solid proportions and good craftsmanship. To a generation fatigued by imitating a grand style secondhand, this humble and straightforward model was a refreshing change, leading to the construction of many new buildings, especially homes, that aimed to resemble 18th-century architecture. A typical example is the large London house by Norman Shaw, located at the corner of Queen’s Gate and Imperial Institute Road. The Chelsea town hall (fig. 94), designed by J.M. Brydon (1840-1901), serves as a great example of a public building in the revived Queen Anne style.

Plate XI.

Plate 11.

Photo, Valentine & Sons, Dundee.
Fig. 120.—NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM, SOUTH KENSINGTON. (WATERHOUSE.)
Photo, M. Gerbeault.
Fig. 121.—LAW COURTS, BRUSSELS. (POELAERT.)

Plate XII.

Plate 12.

Photo, Neurdein. Photo, Neurdein.
Fig. 122.—CHURCH OF ST AUGUSTIN, PARIS.(BALTARD.) Fig. 123.—CHURCH OF LA TRINITE, PARIS. (BALLU.)
Photo, A. Lévy. Photo, Neurdein.
Fig. 124.—CHURCH OF ST PIERRE DE MONTROUGE, PARIS. (VAUDREMER.) Fig. 125.—CHURCH OF ST VINCENT DE PAUL, PARIS. (HITTORFF.)
Fig. 94.—Chelsea Town Hall. (J.M. Brydon.)

A change of front from copying a great style like the medieval to copying what is at best a bastard one, if a style at all, might not seem to promise very much for the emancipation of modern architecture; yet there turned out to be one element of progress in it, resting on the fact that the comparatively simple detail of the 18th-century buildings formed a kind of vernacular of building workmanship, which could be comprehended and carried out by good artisans as a recognized tradition. Now to reduce architecture to good sound building and good workmanship seemed to promise at any rate a better basis to work upon than the mere imitation of classic or medieval detail; it might conceivably furnish a new starting-point. This was the element of life in the Queen Anne revival, and it had, as we shall see, an influence beyond the circle of the special revivers of the style. But almost concurrently with, or following hard upon, the “Queen Anne” movement arose the idea of a modern architecture, founded on a free and unfettered treatment of the materials of our earlier Renaissance architecture, as illustrated in buildings of the Stuart period. This “Free classic.” new ideal was styled “free classic,” and it gave the prevailing tone to English architecture for the last fifteen years of the century, though it had its commencement in certain characteristic buildings a good many years earlier than that. In 1873, for instance, there arose a comparatively small front in Leadenhall Street, under the name of “New Zealand Chambers” (fig. 95), designed by Norman Shaw, which excited more attention, and had more influence on contemporary architecture than many a building of far greater size and importance. This represented the playful and picturesque possibilities of “free classic.” Its more restrained and refined achievements were early exemplified in G.F. Bodley’s design for the front of the London School Board offices on the Thames Embankment,6 a comparatively small building which also exercised a considerable influence. There were no details here, however, but what could be found in Stuart (or, as it is more often called, Jacobean) architecture, but the building, and the prominence of its architect’s name, helped to draw attention to the possibilities of the style, and it has been discovered that free classic is susceptible of a great deal of original treatment based on Renaissance elements. As an example we may cite a street front built some twenty years later by another academician-architect, viz. the offices of the Chartered Accountants in the City, by J. Belcher. More dignified and more monumental than New Zealand Chambers, more original than the School Board offices, this front contains some details and a general treatment which may be said to be absolutely new; it affords another example of a piece of street architecture which attracted a great deal of attention, and has had an effect quite disproportionate to its size and importance as a building; and it gives a general measure of the progress of the “free classic” idea. During the last decade of the century “free classic” was almost the recognized style in English architecture, and has been illustrated in many town halls and other large and important buildings, among which the Imperial Institute is a prominent example (fig. 96).

A shift from mimicking a great style like medieval architecture to one that is, at best, a mixed style—if it can even be considered a style—might not seem to offer much for the liberation of modern architecture. However, there was an aspect of progress in it, based on the fact that the relatively simple details of 18th-century buildings formed a kind of vernacular craftsmanship that good artisans could understand and implement as an established tradition. Reducing architecture to solid building practices and good workmanship seemed to provide a better foundation to work from than just copying classic or medieval details; it could potentially offer a new starting point. This was a lively aspect of the Queen Anne revival, which, as we will see, had an impact beyond just the specific revivalists of the style. But almost simultaneously, or shortly after, the "Queen Anne" movement, the concept of a modern architecture emerged, based on a free and uninhibited approach to the materials of our earlier Renaissance architecture, as seen in buildings from the Stuart period. This “Classic for free.” new ideal was called "free classic" and set the tone for English architecture for the last fifteen years of the century, although it began with certain distinct buildings many years before that. For example, in 1873, a relatively small façade on Leadenhall Street, named “New Zealand Chambers” (fig. 95), designed by Norman Shaw, garnered more attention and had more influence on contemporary architecture than many larger and more significant buildings. It showcased the playful and picturesque possibilities of "free classic." Its more reserved and refined aspects were early demonstrated in G.F. Bodley’s design for the front of the London School Board offices on the Thames Embankment, 6 a comparatively small building that also had considerable influence. However, there weren't any details here that you wouldn’t find in Stuart (or more commonly known as Jacobean) architecture, but the building and the prominence of its architect's name helped highlight the potential of the style, revealing that free classic could be adapted in many original ways based on Renaissance elements. For instance, a street front built about twenty years later by another academician-architect, J. Belcher, for the offices of the Chartered Accountants in the City, was more dignified and monumental than New Zealand Chambers and more original than the School Board offices. This front included some details and a general approach that could be considered completely new; it serves as another example of street architecture that drew considerable attention and had an effect that was disproportionate to its size and significance as a building. It reflects the overall progression of the "free classic" idea. During the last decade of the century, "free classic" was almost the accepted style in English architecture, illustrated in many town halls and other large and important buildings, among which the Imperial Institute stands out as a prominent example (fig. 96).

Fig. 95.—New Zealand Chambers. (R. Norman Shaw, R.A.)

Concurrently with this tendency towards a free classic style there has arisen another movement which has had a considerable influence on English architecture, viz. an increased perception of the importance of decorative arts—sculpture, The allied arts. painting, mosaic, etc.—in alliance with architecture, and of the architect and the decorative artist working together and in harmony. This is no more than what has long been understood and acted on in France, but it has been a new light to modern English architecture, in which, until a comparatively recent period, decorative painting was hardly 436 thought of, and decorative sculpture, where it was introduced, was too often, or indeed generally, the mere work of some trading firm of masons But of late years sculpture has taken a far more prominent place in connexion with architecture; it has become a habit with the best architects to rely largely on the introduction of appropriate and symbolic sculpture to add to the interest of their buildings, and to associate with them eminent sculptors, who, instead of regarding their work only in the light of isolated statues or groups for the exhibition room and the art gallery, are willing to give their best efforts to produce high-class sculpture for the decoration of an architectural design which forms the framework to it.

Concurrently with this trend towards a more classic style, another movement has emerged that has significantly influenced English architecture: a greater awareness of the importance of decorative arts—sculpture, The creative arts. painting, mosaic, etc.—working in conjunction with architecture, where architects and decorative artists collaborate in harmony. This is simply a reflection of what has long been understood and practiced in France, but it has brought new insight to modern English architecture. Until fairly recently, decorative painting was hardly considered, and decorative sculpture, when it was used, was often just the product of some commercial masonry firm. However, in recent years, sculpture has gained a much more prominent role in relation to architecture; it has become common for leading architects to significantly incorporate suitable and symbolic sculpture to enhance the appeal of their buildings, collaborating with renowned sculptors who, rather than viewing their work as isolated statues or groups intended only for exhibition spaces, are eager to contribute their best efforts to create high-quality sculpture that decorates an architectural design that serves as its framework.

Fig. 96.—Staircase, Imperial Institute. (Collcutt.)

Notice should be taken, however, of another movement in English architecture during the closing years of the 19th century. Reference has already been made to one idea which prompted the culture of the “Queen Anne” type of The craftmanship ideal. architecture: that it presented a simple vernacular of construction and detail, in which solid workmanship a more prominent element than elaboration of what is known as architectural style. To a small group of clever and enthusiastic architects of the younger generation it appeared that this idea of reducing architecture to the common-sense of construction might be carried still further; that as all the revivals of styles since the Renaissance had failed to give permanent satisfaction and had tended to reduce architecture to a learned imitation of the work of former epochs, the real chance for giving life to architecture as a modern art was to throw aside all the conventionally accepted insignia of architectural style—columns, pilasters, cornices, buttresses, etc.—and to begin over again with mere workmanship—wall-building and carpentry—and trust that in process of time a new decorative detail would be evolved, indebted to no precedent. The building artisans, in fact, were collectively to take the place of the architect and the form of the building to be evolved by a natural process of growth. This was a favourite idea also with William Morris, who insisted that medieval art—the only art which he recognized as of any value (Greek, Roman and Renaissance being alike contemptible in his eyes)—was essentially an art of the people, and that in fact it was the modern architects who stood in the way of our having a genuine architecture of the 19th century. Considering how much of merely formal, conventional and soulless architecture has been produced in our time under the guidance of the professional architect, it is impossible to deny that there is an element of truth in this reasoning; at all events, that there have been a good many modern architects who have done more harm than good to architecture. But when we come to follow out this reasoning to its logical results, it is obvious that there are serious flaws in it. Morris’s idea that medieval architecture alone was worthy the name, we may, of course, dismiss at once; it was the prejudice of a man of genius whose sympathies, both in matters social and artistic, were narrow. Nor can we regard the medieval cathedrals as artisan’s architecture. The name of “architect” may have been unknown, but that the personage was present in some guise, the very individuality and variety of our English cathedrals attest. Peterborough front was no mere mason’s conception. And when we come to consider modern conditions of building, it is perfectly obvious that with the complicated practical requirements of modern building, in regard to planning, heating, ventilation, etc., the planning of the whole in a complete set of drawings, before the building is begun, is an absolute necessity. We are no longer in medieval times; modern conditions require the modern architect. The real cause of failure, as far as modern architecture is a failure, lies partly in the fact that it is practised too much as a profession or business, too little as an art; partly in the deadening effect of public indifference to art in Britain. If the public really desired great and impressive works of architecture they would have them; but neither the British public nor its mouthpiece the government, care anything about it. Their highest ambition is to get convenient and economical buildings. And as to the theory of the new school, that we should throw overboard all precedent in architectural detail, that is intellectually impossible. We are not made so that we can invent everything de novo, or escape the effect on our minds of what has preceded us; the attempt can only lead to baldness or eccentricity. Every great style of architecture of the past has, in fact, been evolved from the detail of preceding styles; and some of the ablest and most earnest architects of the present day are, indeed, urging the desirability of clinging to traditional forms in regard to detail, as a means of maintaining the continuity of the art. This does not by any means imply the absence of original architecture; there is scope for endless origination in the plan and the general design of a building. The Houses of Parliament is a prominent example. The detail is a reproduction of Tudor detail, but the plan and the general conception are absolutely original, and resemble those of no other pre-existing building in the world.

Notice should be taken, however, of another movement in English architecture during the closing years of the 19th century. Reference has already been made to one idea that inspired the development of the “Queen Anne” style of The ideal of craftsmanship. architecture: that it showcased a straightforward way of building and detailing, where solid workmanship was more important than the embellishment of what is considered architectural style. A small group of talented and passionate younger architects believed that this idea of simplifying architecture to focus on practical construction could go even further; that since all the revivals of styles since the Renaissance had not provided lasting satisfaction and tended to reduce architecture to a learned imitation of earlier periods, the real opportunity to bring architecture to life as a modern art was to discard all the conventionally accepted symbols of architectural style—columns, pilasters, cornices, buttresses, etc.—and start from scratch with just craftsmanship—bricklaying and carpentry—and trust that over time a new decorative detail would emerge, free from any precedent. Essentially, building artisans were to take on the role of the architect, and the form of buildings would develop organically. This was also a favorite idea of William Morris, who argued that medieval art—the only art he deemed valuable (considering Greek, Roman, and Renaissance art equally contemptible)—was fundamentally an art of the people, and that modern architects were obstructing the emergence of authentic 19th-century architecture. Given how much lifeless, conventional, and uninspired architecture has been created in recent times under the guidance of professional architects, it's hard to deny that there is some truth to this argument; indeed, many modern architects have caused more harm than good to architecture. But when we closely analyze this reasoning, there are evident flaws. We can easily dismiss Morris’s claim that only medieval architecture deserved the name; it reflects the bias of a brilliant mind whose social and artistic sympathies were limited. We also cannot view medieval cathedrals as just artisan architecture. While the title of “architect” may have been absent, the essence of the architect was definitely there, as evidenced by the individuality and variety of our English cathedrals. The design of the Peterborough façade was no simple mason's idea. Furthermore, when we consider modern building conditions, it’s clear that due to the complex practical needs of today’s construction—like planning, heating, and ventilation—the entire design must be outlined in a complete set of drawings before construction begins. We are no longer in medieval times; modern conditions demand a modern architect. The actual reason for the shortcomings in modern architecture, where it does fall short, partially stems from the fact that it is often treated more as a profession or business than as an art; and also from the stifling effect of public indifference to art in Britain. If the public truly desired remarkable and impactful architectural works, they would have them; but neither the British public nor its representatives in government care about it. Their top priority is to get functional and cost-effective buildings. Regarding the theory of the new school, which suggests that we should discard all previous architectural details, that is intellectually impossible. We aren't designed to invent everything de novo, or to escape the influence of what has come before us; such an attempt can only result in blandness or eccentricity. Every great architectural style from the past has, in fact, evolved from details of earlier styles; and some of the most skilled and earnest architects today are indeed advocating for the importance of adhering to traditional forms in detail as a way to maintain the continuity of the art. This does not imply that original architecture is absent; there is plenty of room for creativity in the layout and overall design of a building. The Houses of Parliament is a notable example. The detailing is a reproduction of Tudor details, but the layout and overall concept are completely original and unlike any other existing building in the world.

It is necessary to take account of all these movements of opinion and principle in English architecture to appreciate properly its position and prospects at the time with which we are here dealing. Turning now from England United States. to the United States, which, as already observed, is the only other important country in which there has been a general new movement in architecture, we find, singular to say, that the course of development has in America been almost the reverse of what has taken place in England. The rapidity of architectural development in America, it may be observed, since about 1875, has been something astonishing; there is no parallel to it anywhere else. Before then the currently accepted architecture of the American Republic was little more than a bad repetition of the English Gothic and Classic types of revived architecture. At the present day no nation, except perhaps France, takes so keen an interest in architecture and produces so many noteworthy buildings; and it may be observed that in the United States the public and the official authorities seem really to have some enthusiasm on the subject, and to desire fine buildings. But the stirring of the dry bones began in America where it ended in England. The first symptoms of an original spirit operating in American architecture showed themselves in domestic architecture, in town and country houses, the latter especially; and the form which the movement took 437 was a desire to escape conventional architectural detail and to return to the simplest form of mere building; rock-faced masonry, sometimes of materials picked up on the site; chimneys which were plain shafts of masonry or brickwork; woodwork simply hewn and squared, but the whole arranged with a view to picturesque effect (figs. 97 and 98). This form of American house became an incident in the course of modern architecture; it even had a recognizable influence on English architects. About the same time an impetus of a more special nature was given to American architecture by a man of genius, H.H. Richardson, who, falling back on Romanesque and Byzantine types of architecture as a somewhat unworked field, evolved from them a type of architectural treatment so distinctly his own (though its origines were of course quite traceable) that he came very near the credit of having personally invented a style; at all events he invented a manner, which was so largely admired and imitated that for some ten or fifteen years American architecture showed a distinct tendency to become “Richardsonesque” (see also Plate XVI., fig. 137). As with all architectural fashions, however, people got tired of this, and the influence of another very able American architect, Richard M. Hunt, coupled perhaps with the proverbial philo-Gallic tendencies of the modern American, led to the American architects, during the last decade of the 19th century, throwing themselves almost entirely into the arms, as it were, of France; seeking their education as far as possible in Paris, and adopting the theory and practice of the École des Beaux-Arts so completely that it is often impossible to distinguish their designs, and even their methods of drawing, from those of French architects brought up in the strictest regime of the “École.” By this French movement the Americans have, on the one hand, shared the advantages and the influence of what is undoubtedly the most complete school of architectural training in the world; but, on the other hand, they have foregone the opportunity which might have been afforded them of developing a school or style of their own, influenced by the circumstances of their own requirements, climate and materials. Figs. 133 and 134, Plate XV., show examples of recent American architecture of the European classic type. Thus, in the two countries which in this period have shown the most activity and restlessness in their architectural aspirations, and given the most original thought to the subject, England has constantly tended towards throwing off the yoke of precedent and escaping from the limits of a scholastic style; while America, commencing her era of architectural emancipation with an attempt at first principles and simple but picturesque building, has ended by a pretty general adoption of the highly-developed scholastic system of another country. The contrast is certainly a curious one. Only one original contribution to the art has been made by America in recent days—one arising directly out of practical conditions, viz. the “high buildings” in cities; a form of architecture which may be said to have originated in the fact that New York is built on a peninsula, and extension of the city is only possible vertically and not horizontally. The tower-like buildings (see Plate XV., fig. 131, and Steel Construction, Plate II., figs. 3 and 4), served internally by lifts, to which this condition of things has given rise, form a really new contribution to architecture, and have been handled by some of the American architects in a very effective manner; though, unfortunately, the rage for rapid building in the cities of the United States has led to the adoption of the false architectural system of running up such structures in the form of a steel framing, cased with a mere skin of masonry or terra-cotta, for appearance’ sake, which in reality depends for its stability on the steel framing. It must be admitted, however, to be a new contribution to architecture, and renders New York, as seen from the harbour, a “towered city” in a sense not realized by the poet.

It’s essential to consider all these shifts in opinion and principles in English architecture to fully understand its status and future during the period we are discussing. Shifting focus from England to the United States, which, as noted, is the only other major country experiencing a significant architectural movement, we find that the development in America has surprisingly taken a very different direction than that in England. The pace of architectural progress in America, especially since around 1875, has been astonishing; there’s nothing else like it anywhere. Prior to that, the dominant architectural style in the American Republic was merely a poor imitation of English Gothic and Classic revival styles. Today, no other nation, except maybe France, exhibits such a strong interest in architecture or produces so many remarkable buildings. It seems that both the public and officials in the United States truly care about architecture and want fine structures. However, the resurgence of creativity began in America where it concluded in England. The first hints of an original spirit in American architecture appeared in residential designs, particularly in country and town houses; the latter were especially notable. The movement aimed to break free from conventional architectural details and revert to the simplest form of pure building; using rough-faced masonry, sometimes sourced from local materials, plain chimney shafts, and woodwork that was simply cut and squared, all arranged for visual appeal (figs. 97 and 98). This style of American home became a part of modern architecture and even influenced English architects. Around the same time, a unique momentum was introduced to American architecture by a brilliant architect, H.H. Richardson, who drew on Romanesque and Byzantine styles as relatively unexplored areas, developing an architectural approach so distinctly his own (though its origins are traceable) that he nearly gained credit for creating a new style. At the very least, he created a manner that was widely admired and imitated, leading American architecture to display a clear trend toward being “Richardsonesque” for about ten to fifteen years (see also Plate XVI., fig. 137). As with all architectural fads, people eventually grew tired of this, and the influence of another skilled American architect, Richard M. Hunt, likely combined with the well-known Gallic tendencies of modern Americans, prompted American architects in the late 19th century to embrace France, seeking education in Paris and wholeheartedly adopting the theory and practice of the École des Beaux-Arts. This was done to the extent that their designs and even drawing methods became nearly indistinguishable from those of French architects trained in the strict discipline of the “École.” While this French influence allowed Americans to benefit from the most comprehensive architectural training available, it also meant they missed the chance to develop a distinctive school or style shaped by their own needs, climate, and materials. Figs. 133 and 134, Plate XV., showcase examples of contemporary American architecture in the European classic style. In the two countries most active and restless in their architectural pursuits during this period, England has consistently moved toward breaking free from traditional constraints and escaping a purely academic style, whereas America, which started its era of architectural freedom aiming at basic principles and simple yet attractive buildings, ended up mostly adopting the highly developed academic system of another nation. The contrast is certainly intriguing. Recently, America has made only one original contribution to architecture—one that stems directly from practical circumstances: the “high buildings” in cities, a type of architecture that originated because New York is on a peninsula, making horizontal expansion impossible and necessitating vertical growth. The tower-like structures (see Plate XV., fig. 131, and Steel Construction, Plate II., figs. 3 and 4), equipped with elevators due to this situation, represent a genuinely new architectural contribution and have been designed by some American architects very effectively. Unfortunately, the rush to build quickly in U.S. cities has led to the adoption of an incorrect architectural practice of constructing these buildings with steel frames merely covered with a veneer of masonry or terra-cotta, ostensibly for appearances, while their actual stability relies on the steel framework. Nevertheless, it must be acknowledged as a new contribution to architecture, making New York a “towered city” in a sense that the poet may not have envisioned.

Fig. 97.—American Type of Country-House Architecture.
Fig. 98.—American Seaside Villa. (Bruce Price.)
Fig. 99.—Crane Public Library, Quincy, Mass. (H.H. Richardson.)

Some sketch of the state of recent architectural thought or endeavour in England seemed essential to the subject, since it is there that what may be called the philosophy of architecture has been most debated, and that thought English progress. has had the most obvious and most direct effect on architectural style and movement. That this has been the case has no doubt been largely due to the influence of Ruskin, who, though his architectural judgment was on many points faulty and absurd in the extreme, had at any rate the effect of setting people thinking—not without result. In other countries architecture continued to pursue, up to the close of the century, the scholastic ideal impressed upon it by the Renaissance, without exciting doubt or controversy unless in a very occasional and partial manner, and without any changes save those minor ones arising from changing habits of execution and use of material. In Germany there appears to be a certain tendency to a greater freedom in the use of the materials of classic architecture, a certain relaxation of the bonds of scholasticism; but it has hardly assumed such proportions as to be ranked as a new movement in architecture.

Some overview of recent architectural thought or efforts in England seems crucial to the topic since it's there that what could be called the philosophy of architecture has been most debated, and that thought Improve English skills. has had the clearest and most direct impact on architectural style and trends. This has largely been due to the influence of Ruskin, who, despite having many questionable and even absurd architectural judgments, succeeded in getting people to think—resulting in some outcomes. In other countries, architecture largely continued to follow the scholastic ideal imposed by the Renaissance until the end of the century, without generating much doubt or debate, except on rare occasions and in a limited way, and without significant changes other than minor adjustments due to evolving methods of execution and material use. In Germany, there's a tendency toward greater freedom in using classic architectural materials and a slight easing of scholastic constraints; however, it hasn't developed into a new architectural movement.

The last years of the 19th century witnessed the progress to an advanced stage of the most remarkable piece of English church architecture of the period, the Roman Catholic cathedral at Westminster, by J.H. Bentley (1839-1902), English churches. a building which is not a Gothic revival, but goes back to earlier (Byzantine) precedents; not, however, without a considerable element of novelty and originality in the design, especially in some of the exterior detail. The interior was intended for decoration in applied marble and mosaic, yet even as a shell of brickwork, with its solid domes and the 438 immense masses of the piers, it is one of the most impressive and monumental interiors of modern date.

The final years of the 19th century saw significant advancements in what would become one of the most remarkable examples of English church architecture from that era, the Roman Catholic cathedral at Westminster, designed by J.H. Bentley (1839-1902), Churches in England. This building isn't a Gothic revival; instead, it draws inspiration from earlier (Byzantine) styles, while also incorporating a notable degree of innovation and originality in its design, particularly in some of the exterior details. The interior was meant to be decorated with applied marble and mosaic. However, even as a brick shell, with its sturdy domes and the 438 massive piers, it stands as one of the most impressive and monumental interiors of modern times.

Fig. 100.—Interior, St Clare’s, Liverpool. (Leonard Stokes.)

In ordinary church architecture, though there is still a good deal of mere imitation medieval work carried out, England has not been without examples of a new and original application of Gothic materials. The interior of the church of St Clare, Liverpool, by Mr Leonard Stokes (fig. 100), is a good example of the modified treatment of the three-aisled medieval plan already referred to, the side aisles being reduced to passages; and also of the tendency in recent years to simplify the treatment of Gothic, in contrast to the florid and over-carved churches of the Gothic revival. The churches of James Brooks, as already noted, have shown many examples of a solid plain treatment of Gothic, yet with a great deal of character; and J.D. Sedding (1838-1891) built some showing great originality, among which the interior of his church of the Holy Redeemer, Clerkenwell, affords also an interesting example of the modern free treatment of forms derived from classic architecture.

In typical church architecture, while there’s still quite a bit of just imitative medieval work being done, England has featured some new and original uses of Gothic materials. The interior of St Clare's Church in Liverpool, designed by Mr. Leonard Stokes (fig. 100), is a good example of the updated approach to the traditional three-aisled medieval plan mentioned earlier, where the side aisles have been simplified into passages; it also reflects the recent trend towards a more streamlined approach to Gothic styles, as opposed to the overly ornate and intricately carved churches from the Gothic revival. The churches designed by James Brooks, as previously noted, showcase a lot of solid, straightforward Gothic treatment while still possessing a strong character; J.D. Sedding (1838-1891) also constructed some buildings that demonstrate significant originality, with the interior of his Holy Redeemer Church in Clerkenwell providing an interesting example of the modern, relaxed interpretation of forms inspired by classic architecture.

The event of most importance in English church architecture at the beginning of the 20th century was the commencement of a modern cathedral at Liverpool. In the early ’eighties the proposal for a cathedral had led to an important competition between three sets of invited architects, Sir William Emerson, Messrs Bodley and Garner and James Brooks. Nothing, however, resulted, except the production of three very fine sets of drawings. Subsequently the subject was taken up again with more energy, and a sketch competition invited for a cathedral on a new site (the one originally intended being no longer available); from among the sketch competitors five were invited to join in a final competition, viz. Messrs Austin and Paley, C.A. Nicholson, Gilbert Scott (grandson of Sir Gilbert Scott), Malcolm Stark and W.J. Tapper. Mr Scott’s design was selected (May 1903) and the building of it commenced not long after. It is a design in revived Gothic, of the orthodox type as to detail, though containing some points of decided originality in the general treatment. The condition proposed in the first instance by the committee, that the designs sent in must be in the Gothic style, gave rise to a strong protest, in the architectural journals and elsewhere, on the ground that the revival of ancient styles was a mistaken and exploded fallacy; and in deference to this expression of opinion the committee officially withdrew the limitation as to style. That, in view of their obvious bias, they would confine their selection to designs in the Gothic style, was, however, a foregone conclusion. It is much to be regretted that the opportunity was not taken to evolve a modern and Protestant type of cathedral, with a central area and a dome as its principal feature.

The most important event in English church architecture at the start of the 20th century was the beginning of a modern cathedral in Liverpool. In the early 1880s, the proposal for a cathedral led to a significant competition among three sets of invited architects: Sir William Emerson, Messrs Bodley and Garner, and James Brooks. However, nothing came of it, other than the creation of three excellent sets of drawings. Later, the topic was revisited with more enthusiasm, and a sketch competition was announced for a cathedral on a new site (since the original location was no longer available). From those submitting sketches, five were invited to participate in a final competition: Messrs Austin and Paley, C.A. Nicholson, Gilbert Scott (the grandson of Sir Gilbert Scott), Malcolm Stark, and W.J. Tapper. Mr. Scott’s design was chosen (May 1903), and construction began shortly after. It features a revived Gothic style, traditional in detail but with some distinct originality in its overall approach. Initially, the committee required that the submitted designs be in the Gothic style, which sparked strong protests in architectural journals and other forums, arguing that reviving ancient styles was a mistaken and outdated notion. In response to this feedback, the committee officially removed the style restriction. Nevertheless, it was widely expected that their selection would favor Gothic designs due to their evident preferences. It’s unfortunate that the opportunity wasn’t taken to develop a modern Protestant type of cathedral, featuring a central area and a dome as its main characteristic.

In the architecture of public buildings one of the earliest incidents in this latest period was the completion of the Albert Hall, which, though the work of an engineer, and commonplace in detail, is in the main a fine and novel architectural conception, English public buildings. and a practical success (considering its abnormal size) as a building for musical performances. Had its constructor been bold enough to roof it with a solid masonry dome, with an “eye” in the centre (as in the Pantheon) instead of a huge dish-cover of glass and iron, there would have been little to find fault with in its general conception. It was also the first modern English building of importance to be decorated externally with symbolical figure composition, in the shape of the large frieze in coarse mosaic of terra-cotta, which is carried round the upper portion of the exterior, and which, if not very interesting in detail, at all events fulfils very well its purpose as a piece of decorative effect. The subject of the government offices in London forms in itself an important chapter in recent architectural history. The home and foreign office block was finished in 1874; a sumptuous, but weak and ill-planned building designed by Scott, invita Minerva, in a style alien to his own predilections. In 1884 took place the great competition for the war and admiralty offices conjointly, won by a commonplace but admirably drawn design, presenting some good points in planning. The building was to stand between Whitehall and St James’s Park, with a front both ways. The competition came to nothing, and the successful architects were eventually employed to build the new admiralty as it now stands, a mean and commonplace building with no street frontage, in which economy was the main consideration, and totally discreditable to the greatest naval power in the world. In 1898-1899 it was at last resolved to a war office and other government offices much needed, and an irregular site opposite the Horse Guards was selected for the war office and one in Great George Street for the others. In this case there was no competition, but the government selected two architects after inquiry as to their works (“classic” architecture being a sine qua non); W. Young (d. 1900) for the war office, and J.M. Brydon for the Great George Street block. The war office site is inadequate and totally unsymmetrical, the boundary of the building being settled by the boundary of the street curb, and the inner courtyards are of very mean proportions compared with the great courtyard of the home and foreign office. Both architects produced grandiose designs, but in regard to the war office at least the government threw away a great opportunity.

In the design of public buildings, one of the first key events in this recent era was the completion of the Albert Hall. While it was engineered and somewhat unremarkable in its details, it represents a strong and innovative architectural idea, Public buildings in England. It also proved to be a practical success (given its unusual size) as a venue for musical performances. If its creator had dared to cover it with a solid masonry dome, featuring an “eye” like the Pantheon instead of a large glass and iron dome, there would have been little to criticize regarding its overall design. It was also the first significant modern English building to be decorated externally with symbolic figures, in the form of a large frieze made of rough mosaic terra-cotta, which wraps around the upper part of the building. While this decoration may not be particularly interesting in detail, it effectively serves its purpose as decorative art. The topic of government offices in London is significant in recent architectural history. The home and foreign office block was completed in 1874; it’s an extravagant yet poorly planned building designed by Scott, invita Minerva, in a style that didn't align with his usual preferences. In 1884, a major competition was held for the war and admiralty offices, which resulted in a standard yet well-executed design that featured some good planning elements. This building was supposed to be situated between Whitehall and St James’s Park, with entrances facing both directions. However, the competition didn’t lead to anything significant, and the winning architects were eventually tasked with constructing the new admiralty building as it currently exists, which is an ordinary and unimpressive structure lacking a main street entrance, primarily focused on cost-efficiency, and unworthy of the world’s greatest naval power. In 1898-1899, it was finally decided to develop a war office and additional government offices that were sorely needed, with an irregular site chosen opposite the Horse Guards for the war office and another on Great George Street for the others. In this case, no competition was held; instead, the government chose two architects after investigating their previous work (with “classic” architecture being a sine qua non); W. Young (d. 1900) for the war office and J.M. Brydon for the Great George Street block. The war office location is inadequate and completely asymmetrical, with the building's boundaries determined by the street curb, and the inner courtyards are of very poor proportions compared to the grand courtyard of the home and foreign office. Although both architects submitted impressive designs, regarding at least the war office, the government missed a significant opportunity.

Plate XIII.

Plate 13.

Photo, Neurdein. Photo, Neurdein.
Fig. 126.—CATHEDRAL, MARSEILLES. (VAUDOYER AND ESPERANDIEU.) Fig. 127.—MAIRIE, Xth ARRONDISSEMENT, PARIS. (ROUYER.)
Photo, A. Lévy.
Fig. 128.—BIBLIOTHÈQUE STE GENEVIÈVE, PARIS. (LABROUSTE.)

Plate XIV.

Plate 14.

Photo, L.L. Paris.
Fig. 129.—PAVILLON RICHELIEU, THE LOUVRE, PARIS. (VISCONTI.)
Photo, Neurdin.
Fig. 130.—PETIT PALAIS, PARIS. (GIRAULT.)

There can only be further enumerated a few of the more important buildings erected in England during the later years 439 of the 19th century, and mention made of the general course which architecture has taken in regard to special classes of buildings. The Natural History Museum (Plate XI., fig. 120), completed in 1881 by Alfred Waterhouse, may stand as a type of the taste for the employment of terra-cotta, with all its dangerous facilities in ornamental detail, of which that architect specially set the example. Detail is certainly overdone here, but the building is strikingly original; a point not to be overlooked in these days of architectural copying. The Imperial Institute, the result of a competition among six selected architects, represents also a type of architecture which its architect, T.E. Collcutt, maybe said to have matured for himself, and which has been extensively imitated; a refined variety of free classic, always quiet and delicate in detail, though perhaps rather wanting in architectonic force. The next great architectural competition was that for the completion of the South Kensington Museum, the bare brick exterior of which, waiting for architectural completion, had long been a national disgrace. The competition produced some fine and striking designs, some of them perhaps more so than the selected one by Sir Aston Webb, whose fine plan, however, justified the selection. Another competition which excited general interest was that in 1894, for the rebuilding on a country site of Christ’s Hospital schools, also gained by Aston Webb (in collaboration with Ingress Bell), by a design which, in its arrangement of schoolhouses in detached blocks (fig. 101), but in a symmetrical grouping, opened up a new idea in public-school planning, and struck a blow at the picturesque but insanitary quadrangle system. Among notable public buildings of the period ought to be mentioned Norman Shaw’s New Scotland Yard, built in a style neither classic nor Gothic, but partaking of the elements of both (Plate X., fig. 119). A competition in 1908 for the design of the new county hall for the London County Council, to be “English Renaissance” in style, was won by a young architect, till then unknown, Mr Ralph Knott.

A few of the more significant buildings constructed in England during the later years of the 19th century can be highlighted, along with the overall direction architecture has taken concerning specific types of buildings. The Natural History Museum (Plate XI., fig. 120), finished in 1881 by Alfred Waterhouse, exemplifies the use of terra-cotta, showcasing its perilous decorative potential that this architect notably pioneered. While the detail may be excessive, the building is remarkably original, which is important in this era of architectural imitation. The Imperial Institute, resulting from a competition among six chosen architects, also reflects an architectural style that its designer, T.E. Collcutt, can be credited with refining, one that has been widely emulated; it's a sophisticated variety of free classic architecture, always subtle and delicate in detail, though possibly lacking in architectural strength. The next major architectural competition was to complete the South Kensington Museum, whose bare brick exterior had long been a national embarrassment while awaiting further development. The competition yielded some impressive and striking designs, some possibly more compelling than the one selected by Sir Aston Webb, although his excellent proposal warranted the choice. Another competition that attracted widespread attention was in 1894 for the rebuilding of Christ’s Hospital schools on a rural site, which was also won by Aston Webb (in collaboration with Ingress Bell), featuring a layout of schoolhouses in separate blocks (fig. 101), yet symmetrically arranged, introducing a fresh concept in public-school design that challenged the picturesque but unhealthy quadrangle layout. Among the notable public buildings from this period is Norman Shaw’s New Scotland Yard, constructed in a style that neither adheres strictly to classic nor Gothic, but incorporates elements of both (Plate X., fig. 119). A 1908 competition for the design of the new county hall for the London County Council, intended to be in the style of "English Renaissance," was won by a then-unknown young architect, Mr. Ralph Knott.

Fig. 101.—Plan of a Master’s House, New Christ’s Hospital. (Webb and Bell.)
Fig. 102.—Sheffield Town Hall. (Mountford.)
Fig. 103.—Oxford Town Hall. (Hare.)

In recent years there has been a great movement for building town halls; towns rather vying with each other in this way. Of late nearly all of these have been carried out in some variety of free classic. Among the more important in point of scale is that of Sheffield, by E.W. Mountford (1856-1908) (fig. 102); among smaller ones, those of Oxford, by H.T. Hare (fig. 103); and Colchester, by John Belcher, are particularly good examples of recent architecture of this class, the former distinguished also by an exceptionally good plan. The merit of excellent planning also belongs to Aston Webb and Ingress Bell’s Birmingham law courts, one of the modern terra-cotta buildings of somewhat too florid detail, though picturesque as a whole. Among public halls the M‘Ewan Hall at Edinburgh, completed in 1898 from the designs of Sir Rowand Anderson, deserves mention as one of the most original and most carefully designed of recent buildings in Great Britain.

In recent years, there has been a significant push to build town halls, with towns competing with each other in this regard. Recently, almost all of these have been designed in some form of free classical style. Notable examples include the large town hall in Sheffield, designed by E.W. Mountford (1856-1908) (fig. 102); and smaller ones like the ones in Oxford, designed by H.T. Hare (fig. 103), and Colchester, by John Belcher, which are particularly great examples of contemporary architecture of this type, with the former also featuring an exceptionally good layout. The strong planning is also evident in the Birmingham law courts designed by Aston Webb and Ingress Bell, which is one of the modern terra-cotta buildings, albeit with somewhat overly ornate details, but it is still picturesque overall. Among public halls, the M‘Ewan Hall in Edinburgh, completed in 1898 from the designs of Sir Rowand Anderson, is worth mentioning as one of the most original and thoughtfully designed recent buildings in Great Britain.

The various new buildings erected in connexion with the university of Oxford, those by T.G. Jackson (b. 1835) especially, form an important incident in modern English architecture. Mr Jackson succeeded to a remarkable degree in designing new buildings which are in harmony with the old architecture of the university city; sometimes perhaps a little too imitative of it, but at any rate he has the credit of having added rather 440 extensively to Oxford without spoiling it; while his school buildings in different parts of the country have a refinement and domesticity of feeling which is the true note of school architecture. Among buildings of an educational class, the move in technical education has led to the erection of a good many large polytechnic and similar institutions, which in many cases have been well treated architecturally; the Northampton Institute at Clerkenwell (fig. 104), by Mountford, being perhaps one of the boldest and most effective of recent public buildings. In the building of hospitals and asylums much has been done, and great progress made in the direction of hygienic and practical planning and construction, but the tendency has been (perhaps rightly) towards making this practical efficiency the main consideration and reducing architectural treatment to the simplest character. St Thomas’s hospital at Lambeth exemplifies the treatment of hospital architecture at the commencement of the last quarter of the 19th century; the separate pavilion system had been already adopted on practical grounds, but the building is treated in a sumptuous architectural style, as if representing so many detached mansions—a treatment which would now be deprecated as an expenditure foreign to the main purpose of the building. One recent hospital, however, that at Birmingham, by W. Henman, combining architectural effect with the latest hygienic improvements, was the first large hospital in Great Britain in which the system of mechanical ventilation was completely and consistently carried out.

The various new buildings constructed in relation to the University of Oxford, especially those by T.G. Jackson (b. 1835), represent a significant development in modern English architecture. Mr. Jackson has been remarkably successful in designing new structures that blend with the old architecture of the university city; sometimes they might imitate it a bit too closely, but he deserves credit for having extensively enhanced Oxford without ruining its character. His school buildings in different locations across the country exhibit a refinement and warmth that truly capture the essence of school architecture. Among educational buildings, the focus on technical education has resulted in the creation of many large polytechnic and similar institutions, many of which have been well-executed architecturally; the Northampton Institute at Clerkenwell (fig. 104), designed by Mountford, is perhaps one of the boldest and most impactful recent public buildings. In the construction of hospitals and asylums, significant strides have been made towards hygienic and practical design and construction, but there has been a tendency (perhaps rightly) to prioritize practical efficiency, which has simplified architectural treatment. St. Thomas’s Hospital at Lambeth exemplifies hospital architecture at the start of the last quarter of the 19th century; the separate pavilion system was already implemented for practical reasons, yet the building is designed in an elaborate architectural style, resembling a collection of detached mansions—a design approach that would likely be criticized today as excessive for the building’s purpose. However, a recent hospital, the one in Birmingham designed by W. Henman, successfully merges architectural appeal with the latest hygienic advancements, making it the first large hospital in Great Britain to fully and consistently implement a mechanical ventilation system.

Fig. 104.—Northampton Institute, Clerkenwell. (Mountford.)
Fig. 105.—Cragside. (R. Norman Shaw.)

In theatre building there has been an immense improvement in regard to planning, ventilation and fireproof construction, but little to note in an architectural sense, since theatres in England are never designed by eminent architects, the financial and practical aspects being alone considered.

In theater construction, there has been a huge improvement in planning, ventilation, and fireproofing, but not much has changed architecturally, as theaters in England are rarely designed by well-known architects, focusing only on financial and practical considerations.

Fig. 106.—London City & Midland Bank, Ludgate Hill Branch. (Collcutt.)

In domestic architecture the tendency has been to quit picturesque irregularity for a more formal and more dignified treatment. Such a house as Norman Shaw’s “Cragside,” built in the earlier part of our period (fig. 105), however its picturesque English domestic and street architecture. treatment may still be admired, would hardly be built now on a large scale; its architect himself has of late years shown a preference for a symmetrical and regular treatment of house architecture sometimes to the extent of making the mansion look too like a barrack. In street architecture, however, the tendency has been towards a more characteristic and more picturesque treatment; nor is there any class of building in which the improvement in English architecture has been more marked and more unquestionable. Many of the new residential streets in the west end of London present a really picturesque ensemble, and many shops and other commercial street buildings have been erected with admirable fronts from the designs of some of the best architects of the day. Norman Shaw’s building at the corner of St James’s Street and Pall Mall was one of the first, and is still one of the best examples of modern street architecture, though surpassed by the same architect’s more recent building opposite, at the south-west angle of St James’s Street—one of the finest and most monumental examples of street architecture in London. Among other examples may be cited T.E. Collcutt’s London City & Midland Bank in Ludgate Hill (fig. 106) and R. Blomfield’s narrow house-front in Buckingham Gate (fig. 107). The introduction of sculpture in street fronts is also beginning to receive attention; and a simple house-front recently erected in Margaret Street, London, from the design of Beresford Pite (fig. 108), is an excellent example of the use of sculpture in 441 connexion with ordinary street architecture. It is significant of the increased attention accorded to street architecture, that the most important architectural event in England at the very close of the 19th century, was the outlay of £2000 by the London County Council, in fees to eight architects for designs for the front of the proposed new streets of Kingsway and Aldwych. The idea was to treat these streets as comprehensive architectural designs with a certain unity of effect. Unfortunately this idea was abandoned for merely commercial reasons, it being feared that there would be a difficulty in letting the sites if tenants were required to conform their frontages to a general design. In the case of Aldwych, which is a crescent street, this decision was fatal. A crescent loses all its effect unless treated as a complete and symmetrical architectural design.

In home design, the trend has shifted from picturesque irregularity to a more formal and dignified approach. A house like Norman Shaw’s “Cragside,” built earlier in our period (fig. 105), may still be appreciated for its picturesque style, but it likely wouldn't be built on a large scale today; even the architect himself has increasingly favored symmetrical and regular designs that sometimes make mansions resemble barracks. On the other hand, street architecture has leaned towards a more distinctive and picturesque style, with significant and undeniable improvements in English architecture. Many of the new residential streets in the west end of London create a truly picturesque ensemble, and many shops and other commercial buildings have been constructed with stunning façades designed by some of the best architects of the time. Norman Shaw’s building at the corner of St James’s Street and Pall Mall was one of the first, and still stands as one of the best examples of modern street design, though it has been outshined by the architect’s more recent building across the street, which is one of the finest and most monumental examples of street architecture in London. Other notable examples include T.E. Collcutt’s London City & Midland Bank on Ludgate Hill (fig. 106) and R. Blomfield’s narrow house front in Buckingham Gate (fig. 107). The incorporation of sculpture in street fronts is also starting to gain attention; a simple house front recently built on Margaret Street, London, designed by Beresford Pite (fig. 108), exemplifies the effective use of sculpture in connection with regular street architecture. It's significant that the most important architectural event in England at the end of the 19th century involved the London County Council spending £2000 in fees to eight architects for designs for the fronts of the proposed new streets of Kingsway and Aldwych. The idea was to treat these streets as cohesive architectural designs with a unified effect. Unfortunately, this plan was scrapped for purely commercial reasons, as there were concerns about difficulties in leasing sites if tenants were required to align their façades with a general design. In the case of Aldwych, which is a crescent street, this decision was detrimental. A crescent loses all its impact unless it's designed as a complete and symmetrical architectural feature.

Fig. 107.—House in Buckingham Gate, London. (R. Blomfield.)

The competition for the Queen Victoria Memorial, consisting of a processional road from Whitehall to Buckingham Palace, culminating in a sculptural trophy in front of the palace, attracted a great deal of attention in 1901. Of the five invited competitors—Sir Aston Webb (b. 1849), T.G. Jackson, Ernest George (b. 1839), Sir Thomas Drew (b. 1838), and Sir Rowand Anderson (b. 1834) the two latter representing Ireland and Scotland respectively,—Sir Aston Webb’s design was selected, and unquestionably showed the best and most effective manner of laying out the road, as well as a very pleasing architectural treatment of the semicircular forecourt in front of the palace, with pavilions and fountain-basins symmetrically spaced; but some of this was subsequently sacrificed on grounds of economy. The building, a triumphal arch flanked by pavilions, forming the entry to the processional road from Whitehall, is a dignified design.

The competition for the Queen Victoria Memorial, which included a processional road from Whitehall to Buckingham Palace ending with a sculptural trophy in front of the palace, generated a lot of interest in 1901. Of the five invited competitors—Sir Aston Webb (b. 1849), T.G. Jackson, Ernest George (b. 1839), Sir Thomas Drew (b. 1838), and Sir Rowand Anderson (b. 1834), with the last two representing Ireland and Scotland respectively—Sir Aston Webb’s design was chosen. It clearly showcased the best and most effective way to lay out the road, as well as a very attractive architectural design for the semicircular forecourt in front of the palace, featuring pavilions and fountain basins spaced symmetrically; however, some of this was later reduced for budget reasons. The structure, a triumphal arch flanked by pavilions, serves as the entrance to the processional road from Whitehall and is a dignified design.

Fig. 108.—House in Margaret Street, London. (Beresford Pite.)

In France, still the leading artistic nation of the world, the art of architecture has been in a most flourishing and most active state in the most recent period. It is true that there is not the same variety as in modern English Recent French architecture. architecture, nor have there been the same discussions and experiments in regard to the true aim and course of architecture which have excited so much interest in England; because the French architects, unlike the English, know exactly what they want. They have a “school” of architecture; they adhere to the scholastic or academic theory of architecture as an art founded on the study of classic models; and on this basis their architects receive the most thorough training of any in the world. This predominance of the academic theory deprives their architecture, no doubt, of a good deal of the element of variety and picturesqueness; a French architect pur sang, in fact, never attempts the picturesque, unless in a country residence, and then the results are such that one wishes the attempt had not been made. But, on the other hand, modern French architecture at its best has a dignity and style about it which no other nation at present reaches, and which goes far to atone for a certain degree of sameness and repetition in its motives; and living under a government which recognizes the importance of national architecture, and is willing to spend public money liberally on it (with the full approbation of its public), the French architects have opportunities which English ones but seldom enjoy— the predominant aim with a British government being to see how little they can spend on a public building. The two great Paris exhibitions of 1889 and 1900 may be regarded as important events in connexion with architecture, for even the temporary buildings erected for them showed an amount of architectural interest and originality which could be met with nowhere else, and which in each case left its mark behind it, though with a difference; for while in the 1889 exhibition the main object was to treat temporary structures—iron and concrete and terra-cotta—in an undisguised but artistic manner, in those of the 1900 exhibition the effort was to create an architectural coup d’œil of apparently monumental structures of which the actual construction was disguised. In spite of some eccentricities the amount of invention and originality shown in these temporary buildings was most remarkable; but fortunately the exhibition left something more permanent behind it in the shape of the two art-palaces and the new bridge over the Seine. The two palaces are triumphs of modern classic architecture; the larger one (by MM. Thomas, Louvet and Deglane) is to some extent spoiled by the apparently unavoidable glass roof, the smaller one, by M. Girault, escapes this drawback, and, still more refined than its greater opposite, is one of the most beautiful buildings of modern times; the central portion is shown in Plate XIV., fig. 130. The architectural pylons, with their accompanying sculpture, which flank the entries to the bridge, are worthy of the best period of French Renaissance. Thus much, at least, has the 1900 exhibition done for architecture.

In France, still the leading artistic nation in the world, the field of architecture has been thriving and very active recently. It’s true that there isn’t as much variety as in modern English architecture, nor have there been the same debates and experiments regarding the true purpose and direction of architecture that have generated so much interest in England; because French architects, unlike the English, know exactly what they want. They have a “school” of architecture; they follow the academic theory of architecture as an art based on the study of classic models; and as a result, their architects receive the most comprehensive training in the world. This focus on academic theory does limit their architecture, no doubt, in terms of variety and picturesque quality; a true French architect rarely attempts the picturesque, except in a country house, and even then the results often leave one wishing the attempt had not been made. However, modern French architecture at its best has a dignity and style that no other nation currently matches, which helps to make up for a certain level of sameness and repetition in its designs; and living under a government that recognizes the importance of national architecture and is willing to spend public money generously on it (with the full approval of the public), French architects have opportunities that their English counterparts seldom enjoy—since the main goal of a British government is typically to see how little they can spend on a public building. The two major Paris exhibitions of 1889 and 1900 can be seen as significant events in relation to architecture, as even the temporary buildings constructed for them displayed a level of architectural interest and originality that was unmatched elsewhere, leaving a lasting impact, albeit in different ways; for while the 1889 exhibition primarily aimed to showcase temporary structures—made of iron, concrete, and terracotta—in an exposed but artistic fashion, the 1900 exhibition sought to create an architectural visual effect of seemingly monumental structures whose actual construction was disguised. Despite some eccentricities, the level of innovation and originality in these temporary buildings was remarkable; fortunately, the exhibition also left some permanent contributions behind, including two art palaces and a new bridge over the Seine. The two palaces are achievements of modern classic architecture; the larger one (by MM. Thomas, Louvet, and Deglane) is somewhat marred by what seems to be an unavoidable glass roof, while the smaller one, by M. Girault, avoids this issue and, being even more refined than its larger counterpart, is one of the most beautiful buildings of modern times; the central portion is shown in Plate XIV, fig. 130. The architectural pylons, along with their accompanying sculpture, that flank the entrances to the bridge are worthy of the finest period of French Renaissance. So, at least, the 1900 exhibition has done something for architecture.

442

442

Fig. 109.—Plan of Hôtel de Ville, Paris.

A, Salle des Fêtes.

A, Party Hall.

B, Salle à manger.

Dining room.

C, Salons de Réception.

C, Reception Rooms.

D, Council Chamber.

D, Council Room.

E, Grand Staircase.

E, Grand Staircase.

F, Salle des Cariatides.

F, Cariatides Room.

G, General Secretary.

G, General Secretary.

H, Prefect.

Hey, Prefect.

K, Committee Rooms.

K, Committee Rooms.

L, Public Works.

L, Public Works.

M, Corridor.

M, Hallway.

N, President of Council.

N, Council President.

O, Library.

Oh, Library.

P, Refreshment Room.

P, Cafe.

At the beginning of the last quarter of the 19th century stands one of the most important of modern French buildings, the Paris hotel de ville, commenced shortly after the war, from the designs of MM. Ballu and Deperthes, planned on an immense scale, and on the stateliest and most monumental lines: the plan is given in fig. 109. The central block is, externally, a restoration of the old hotel de ville, the remainder carried out in an analogous but somewhat more modern style. The interior has been the scene of sumptuous pictorial decoration, in which all the first artists of the day were employed—unfortunately in too scattered a manner and on no predominant or consistent scheme. One of the most characteristic architectural efforts of the French has consisted in the erection of the various smaller hôtels-de-ville or mairies, in the city and suburban districts of the capital; as at Pantin, Lilas, Suresnes and in various arrondissements within the city proper (Plate XIII., fig. 127). Nothing shows the quality of modern French architecture better, or perhaps more favourably, than this series of district town halls; all have a distinctly municipal character and a certain family resemblance of style amid their diversity of details; all are refined specimens of pre-eminently civilized architecture. Among the greater architectural efforts of France is the immense block of the new Sorbonne, by M. Nénot, a building sufficient in itself for an architectural reputation. Among smaller French buildings of peculiar merit may be mentioned the Musée Galliera, in the Trocadéro quarter of Paris, designed by M. Ginain—a work of pure art in architecture such as we should nowadays look for in vain out of France; the École de Médecine, by the same refined architect (fig. 110); and the chapel in rue Jean Goujon (Guilbert), erected as a memorial to the victims of the bazaar fire, again a notable instance of a work of pure thought in architecture—a new conception out of old materials. The new Opéra Comique (Bernier) should also be mentioned, the rather disappointing result of a competition which excited great interest at the time. Street architecture has been carried out of late in Paris in a sumptuous style, with great stone fronts and a profusion of carved ornament, such as we know nothing of in England; and though there is a rather monotonous repetition of the same style and character throughout the new or newly built streets, it is impossible to deny the effect of palatial dignity they impart to the city. In the matter of country houses the French architect is less fortunate; when he attempts what he regards as the rural picturesque, his good taste seems entirely to desert him, and the maison de campagne is generally a mere riot of gimcrack bargeboards and finials. In Paris, the taste for the contortions of what is called art nouveau has led to the erection, here and there, of ugly and eccentric fronts with preposterous ornamental details; but the invasion of this element is only partial and will probably not prove other than a passing phase.

At the end of the last quarter of the 19th century, one of the most significant modern French buildings, the Paris City Hall, was started shortly after the war, designed by MM. Ballu and Deperthes. It was planned on a massive scale with impressive and monumental lines; the layout is shown in fig. 109. The central section is an external restoration of the old City Hall, while the rest is built in a similar but somewhat more contemporary style. The interior features luxurious decorative artwork, with contributions from all the top artists of the time—though unfortunately, their work is scattered and lacks a cohesive or consistent theme. One of the hallmark architectural achievements of the French is the construction of various smaller city halls or town halls in both the city and suburbs, like in Pantin, Lilas, Suresnes, and in different districts within the city itself (Plate XIII., fig. 127). Nothing showcases the quality of modern French architecture better, or perhaps more favorably, than this collection of district town halls; they all have a distinctly municipal character and a certain family resemblance in style despite their diverse details; each is a refined example of distinctly civilized architecture. Among the larger architectural projects in France is the vast new Sorbonne, designed by M. Nénot, a building that alone is sufficient for architectural acclaim. Notable smaller French structures of merit include the Musée Galliera in the Trocadéro area of Paris, designed by M. Ginain—a work of pure architectural art that we would likely find impossible to match outside of France; the École de Médecine, also by this refined architect (fig. 110); and the chapel on rue Jean Goujon (Guilbert), built as a memorial to the victims of the bazaar fire, which is another striking example of thoughtful architecture—a fresh interpretation using traditional materials. The new Opéra Comique (Bernier) should also be noted, as it was a somewhat disappointing outcome of a competition that stirred great interest at the time. Recently, street architecture in Paris has been executed in a lavish style, featuring grand stone facades and an abundance of carved ornamentation, which we see little of in England; and while there is a somewhat monotonous repetition of the same style and character throughout the new or newly constructed streets, the palatial elegance they lend to the city is undeniable. In terms of country houses, French architects are less successful; when they attempt what they consider to be rural picturesque, their good taste seems to entirely abandon them, and the maison de campagne usually turns into a chaotic display of cheap bargeboards and finials. In Paris, the trend for the twists and turns of what is called art nouveau has led to the construction of some unattractive and eccentric facades adorned with ridiculous ornamental details; however, this style's invasion is only partial and will likely turn out to be a fleeting phase.

Fig. 110.—École de Médecine, Paris. (Ginain.)

The great military success of Germany in 1870, and the founding of the German empire, gave, as is usual in such crises, a decided impetus to public architecture, of which the central and most important visible sign is the German Houses of Parliament Germany. (Plate IX., fig. 117), by Paul Wallot (b. 1841), whose design was selected in a competition. There is something essentially German in the quality of this national building; classic architecture minus its refinement. The detail is coarse; the finish of the end pavilions of the principal front absolutely unmeaning— mere architectural rodomontade; the central cupola of glass and iron, on a square plan, probably the ugliest central feature on any great building in Europe; and yet there is undeniable power about the whole thing; it is the characteristic product of a conquering nation not reticent in its triumph. The new cathedral at Berlin, by Julius Raschdorff (b. 1823), is the other most important German work of the period (fig. 111); a building very striking and unusual in plan, but absolutely commonplace in its architectural detail; school classic of the most ordinary type, without even any of those elements of originality which are to be found in the Houses of Parliament. A curious feature in the plan (fig. 112) is that the building, alone of any cathedral we can recall, has its principal general entrance at the side, the end entrance being reserved for a special imperial cortège on special occasions, the cathedral also serving the second purpose of an imperial mausoleum. Theatre building has been carried on very largely in Germany, and among its productions the Lessing theatre at Berlin (fig. 113) (Hermann von der Hude and Julius Hennicke, d. 1892) is a favourable example of German 443 classic at its best, besides being, like most modern German theatres, very well planned (fig. 114). Hamburg has had its new municipal buildings (Grotjan), a florid Renaissance building with a central tower, showing in its general effect and grouping a good deal of Gothic feeling Mention may also be made of the Imperial law courts (Reichsgerichtsgebaude) at Leipzig, designed by Ludwig Hoffmann (b. 1852) and finished in 1895, a building with no more charm about it, externally, than the Berlin Parliament Houses, but with some good interior effects. The new post offices in Germany have been an important undertaking, and are, at all events, buildings of more mark than those in England. There has also been a great deal of new development in street architecture, which shows an immense variety, and a constantly evident determination to do something striking, but we find in it neither the dignity of Parisian street architecture nor the refinement of modern London work; there is an element of the bombastic about it.

The major military success of Germany in 1870 and the establishment of the German Empire gave, as often happens in such situations, a strong boost to public architecture. The most significant visible sign of this is the German Houses of Parliament Germany. (Plate IX., fig. 117), designed by Paul Wallot (b. 1841), whose design was chosen through a competition. This national building has a distinctly German quality; it's classic architecture stripped of refinement. The details are rough, and the finish of the front pavilions is completely meaningless—just architectural bragging. The central dome of glass and iron, set on a square base, is probably the ugliest central feature on any significant building in Europe; yet, there’s an undeniable strength to the whole structure. It embodies the spirit of a conquering nation, unapologetic in its success. The new cathedral in Berlin, by Julius Raschdorff (b. 1823), is another major German work from the era (fig. 111); it's very striking and has an unusual layout, but the architectural details are utterly ordinary—standard classic style without any elements of originality found in the Houses of Parliament. A unique aspect of the layout (fig. 112) is that this cathedral, unlike any we can remember, has its main entrance on the side, while the end entrance is reserved for special imperial processions on certain occasions, as the cathedral also serves as an imperial mausoleum. Theatre construction has been quite prolific in Germany, and among its creations, the Lessing Theatre in Berlin (fig. 113) (by Hermann von der Hude and Julius Hennicke, d. 1892) is a prime example of German classic at its finest, while also being well planned like most modern German theatres (fig. 114). Hamburg has seen the addition of new municipal buildings (Grotjan), a decorative Renaissance structure with a central tower that shows a fair amount of Gothic influence in its overall effect and arrangement. The Imperial Law Courts (Reichsgerichtsgebäude) in Leipzig, designed by Ludwig Hoffmann (b. 1852) and completed in 1895, have no more charm on the outside than the Berlin Parliament Houses, but boast some good interior designs. The new post offices in Germany have been a significant project and are, at least, more noteworthy than those in England. There's also been considerable new development in street architecture, showing immense variety and a clear determination to create something striking; however, it lacks the dignity of Parisian street architecture and the refinement of modern London work. There’s a certain bombastic quality to it.

Fig. 111.—Cathedral at Berlin. (Raschdorff.)
Fig. 112.—Plan of Cathedral at Berlin.
Fig. 113—Lessing Theatre, Berlin. (Von der Hude and Hennicke.)
Fig. 114.—Plan of Lessing Theatre, Berlin.

No modern building on the European continent is more remarkable than the Brussels law courts (Plate XI., fig. 121) from the designs of Joseph Poelaert (1816-1879), an original genius in architecture, who had the good fortune to be appreciated and given a free hand by his government. The design is based on classic architecture, but with a treatment so completely Other countries. individual as to remove it almost entirely from the category of imitative or revival architecture; somewhat fantastic it may be, but as an original architectural creation it stands almost alone among modern public buildings. In Vienna the scholastic classic style has been retained with much more purity and refinement than in the German capital, and the Parliament Houses (Plate IX., fig. 116), by Theophil Hansen (1813-1891), if they show no originality of detail, have the merit of original and very effective grouping. Budapest, on the other hand, which has almost sprung into existence since 1875 as the rival of the Austrian capital, has erected a great Parliament building of florid character (Plate IX., fig. 115), in a style in which the Gothic element is prevalent, though the central feature is a dome. The plan (see fig. 92) is obviously based on that of the Westminster building, the exterior design, however, has the merit of clearly indicating the position of the two Chambers as part of the architectural design, the want of which is the one serious defect of Barry’s noble structure. In Italy modern architecture is at a very low ebb; the one great work of this period was the building of the façade to the Duomo at Florence, from the design of de Fabris, who did not live to see its completion. As the completion in modern times of a building of world-wide fame, it is a work of considerable interest, and, on the whole, not unworthy of its position; that it should harmonize quite satisfactorily with the ancient structure was hardly to be expected. It was probably the completion of this façade which led the city of Milan to start a great architectural competition, in the early ’eighties, for the erection of a new façade to its celebrated cathedral, not because the façade had never been completed, but because it had been spoiled and patched with bad 18th-century work. The ambition was a legitimate one, and the competition, open to all the world, excited the greatest interest; but the young Italian architect, Brentano, to whom the first premium 444 was awarded, died shortly afterwards, and other causes, partly financial, led to the postponement of the scheme, though it is understood that there is still an intention of carrying out Brentano’s design under the direction of the official architectural department of the city.

No modern building in Europe stands out more than the Brussels law courts (Plate XI., fig. 121), designed by Joseph Poelaert (1816-1879), a unique genius in architecture who was fortunate enough to receive appreciation and freedom from his government. The design draws from classic architecture but has such a distinctive treatment that it almost completely separates itself from mere imitation or revival styles; while it may seem somewhat fantastical, as an original architectural creation, it is nearly unparalleled among modern public buildings. In Vienna, the classical style has been maintained with much greater purity and refinement than in the German capital, and the Parliament Houses (Plate IX., fig. 116) by Theophil Hansen (1813-1891), although lacking originality in detail, excel in their original and striking grouping. Budapest, on the other hand, which has emerged as a rival to the Austrian capital since 1875, has built an impressive, ornate Parliament building (Plate IX., fig. 115) prominently featuring Gothic elements, although the central focus is a dome. The layout (see fig. 92) is clearly based on that of the Westminster building, though the exterior design effectively highlights the positions of the two Chambers as part of the architectural scheme, a contrast to the significant flaw in Barry’s grand structure. In Italy, modern architecture is currently at a low point; the only significant work from this period was the construction of the façade for the Duomo in Florence, designed by de Fabris, who did not live to see it finished. As a contemporary completion of a globally recognized building, it is an important work and, overall, deserves its prominence; however, it was unlikely that it would fully harmonize with the ancient structure. It was probably the completion of this façade that inspired Milan to initiate a major architectural competition in the early '80s for a new façade for its famous cathedral, not because the façade had never been completed, but because it had been damaged and poorly patched with bad 18th-century work. This ambition was a valid one, and the competition, open to global participants, generated significant excitement; however, the young Italian architect Brentano, who was awarded the first prize, died shortly after, and other factors, partly financial, caused delays in the project, though it is understood that there is still a desire to realize Brentano’s design under the guidance of the city's official architectural department.

In summing up the present position of modern architecture, it may be said that architecture is now a more cosmopolitan art than it has been at any previous period. The separate development of a national style has become Conclusion. in the present day almost an impossibility. Increased means of communication have brought all civilized nations into close touch with each other’s tastes and ideas, with the natural consequence that the treatment of a special class of building in any one country will not differ very materially from its treatment in another; though there are nuances of local taste in detail, in manner of execution, in the materials used. And the civilized countries have almost with one consent returned, in the main, to the adoption of a school of architecture based on classic types. The taste for medievalism is dying out even in Great Britain, which has been its chief stronghold.

In summarizing the current state of modern architecture, it can be said that architecture is now a more global art than at any time before. The distinct development of a national style has become almost impossible today. Improved communication has connected all civilized nations with each other’s tastes and ideas, leading to the result that the design of a specific type of building in one country will not differ much from its design in another; although there are local variations in detail, execution, and materials used. Furthermore, the civilized countries have largely agreed to return, for the most part, to a school of architecture based on classic styles. The preference for medievalism is fading even in Great Britain, which has been its main stronghold.

What course the future of modern architecture will take it is not easy to prophesy. What is quite certain is that it is now an individual art, each important building being the production, not of an unconsciously pursued national style, but of a personal designer. As far as there is a ruling consensus in architectural taste, this will tend to become, like dress and manners, more and more cosmopolitan; and it seems probable that it will be based more or less on the types left us by Classic and Renaissance architecture. There are, however, two influences which may have a definite effect on the architecture of the near future. One of these is the possible greater rapprochement between architecture and engineering, of which there are already some signs to be seen; architects will learn more of the kind of structural problems which are now almost the exclusive province of the engineer, and there will be a demand that engineering works shall be treated, as they well may be, with some of the refinement and expression of architecture. The other influence lies in the closer connexion, which is already taking place, between architecture and the allied arts, so that an important building will be regarded and treated as a field for the application of decorative sculpture and painting of the highest class, and as being incomplete without these. It is in this closer union of architecture with the other arts that there lies the best hope for the architecture of the future.

What direction modern architecture will take in the future is hard to predict. What’s certain is that it has become an individual art form, with each significant building being the creation of a personal designer, not just a result of a nationally pursued style. As far as architectural preferences go, they will likely trend towards being more cosmopolitan, similar to trends in fashion and social behavior; it's probable that these preferences will be rooted in the styles left to us by Classic and Renaissance architecture. However, there are two influences that could significantly shape the architecture of the near future. One is the potential for a closer relationship between architecture and engineering, which we are already starting to see; architects will gain a better understanding of structural challenges that are usually handled solely by engineers, and there will be a push for engineering projects to be designed with the same elegance and creativity as architecture. The second influence is the growing connection between architecture and related arts, which means that an important building will be seen and treated as a canvas for high-quality decorative sculpture and painting, and considered incomplete without them. It is in this deeper integration of architecture with other arts that we find the greatest promise for the architecture of the future.

Plate XV.

Plate 15.

Copyright 1903 by Detroit Photographic Co.
Fig. 131.—“FLAT-IRON” BUILDING, NEW YORK.
(For method of construction, see Steel Construction, and Plate II., Fig. 4, of that article.)
Copyright 1899 by Detroit Photographic Co.
Fig. 132.—A NEWPORT, R.I., “COTTAGE”: “THE BREAKERS.”
Fig. 133.—THE METROPOLITAN CLUB, NEW YORK.
Copyright 1905 by Detroit Publishing Co.
Fig. 134.—THE UNIVERSITY CLUB, NEW YORK.

Plate XVI.

Plate 16.

Photo, Detroit Publishing Co. Photo, Geo. P. Hall & Son.
Fig. 135.—PUBLIC LIBRARY, BOSTON. (McKIM, MEAD & WHITE.) Fig. 136.—PUBLIC LIBRARY, NEW YORK. (CARRÈRE & HASTINGS.)
Photo, Elmer Chickering. Copyright 1906 by Detroit Publishing Co.
Fig. 137.—TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON. (H.H. RICHARDSON.) Fig. 138.—STATE CAPITOL, HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT.

Authorities.—The literature of architecture as a modern art is limited, the most important publications of recent times being mainly devoted to the study and illustration of ancient architecture. The following, however, may be named:—James Fergusson, History of Modern Architecture (2nd ed., London, 1873); T.G. Jackson, Modern Gothic Architecture (London, 1873); J.T. Micklethwaite, Modern Parish Churches (London, 1874); E.R. Robson, School Architecture (London, 1874); J.J. Stevenson, House Architecture (London, 1880); E.E. Viollet-le-Duc, How to Build a House (London, 1874); Lectures on Architecture (London, 1881); H.C. Burdett, Hospitals and Asylums of the World (London, 1892-1893); Professor Oswald Kuhn, Krankenhauser (Stuttgart, 1897); E.O. Sachs, Modern Opera-Houses and Theatres (London, 1897-1899); E. Wyndham Tarn, The Mechanics of Architecture (London, 1893); R. Norman Shaw, R.A., T.G. Jackson, R.A., and others, Architecture, a Profession or an Art (London, 1892); W.H. White, The Architect and his Artists (London, 1892); Architecture and Public Buildings in Paris and London (London, 1884); H.H. Statham, Architecture for General Readers (London, 1895); Modern Architecture (London, 1898); Herrmann Muthesius, Die englische Baukunst der Gegenwart (Berlin and Leipzig, 1900); Der Architekten Verein zu Berlin, Berlin und Seine Bauten (Berlin, 1896). The real literature of modern architecture, however, is to be found mainly in the articles and illustrations in the best periodical architectural publications of various countries. Among these Italy has none worth mention, and France, with all her architectural enthusiasm, has had no first-class architectural periodical since the extinction, about 1890, of the Revue générale de l’architecture, conducted for more than fifty years by the late César Daly, and in its day the first periodical of its class in the world. Among the best periodical publications are: The Architectural Record (quarterly), (New York); The Architectural Review (monthly), (Boston); the Allgemeine Bauzeitung (quarterly), (Vienna); the Berlin Architekturwelt (monthly), (Berlin); The Builder (weekly), (London); La Construction moderne (weekly), (Paris).

Authorities.—The body of literature on architecture as a modern art is limited, with most significant publications in recent years focused primarily on studying and showcasing ancient architecture. However, the following works can be mentioned:—James Fergusson, History of Modern Architecture (2nd ed., London, 1873); T.G. Jackson, Modern Gothic Architecture (London, 1873); J.T. Micklethwaite, Modern Parish Churches (London, 1874); E.R. Robson, School Architecture (London, 1874); J.J. Stevenson, House Architecture (London, 1880); E.E. Viollet-le-Duc, How to Build a House (London, 1874); Lectures on Architecture (London, 1881); H.C. Burdett, Hospitals and Asylums of the World (London, 1892-1893); Professor Oswald Kuhn, Krankenhauser (Stuttgart, 1897); E.O. Sachs, Modern Opera-Houses and Theatres (London, 1897-1899); E. Wyndham Tarn, The Mechanics of Architecture (London, 1893); R. Norman Shaw, R.A., T.G. Jackson, R.A., and others, Architecture, a Profession or an Art (London, 1892); W.H. White, The Architect and his Artists (London, 1892); Architecture and Public Buildings in Paris and London (London, 1884); H.H. Statham, Architecture for General Readers (London, 1895); Modern Architecture (London, 1898); Herrmann Muthesius, Die englische Baukunst der Gegenwart (Berlin and Leipzig, 1900); Der Architekten Verein zu Berlin, Berlin und Seine Bauten (Berlin, 1896). However, the true literature of modern architecture is mainly found in articles and illustrations in the top architectural periodicals from various countries. Among these, Italy has no notable contributions, and France, despite its enthusiasm for architecture, has lacked a first-class architectural periodical since around 1890 when the Revue générale de l’architecture, which had been led by the late César Daly for over fifty years, ceased publication. It was the leading periodical of its kind in the world at that time. Some of the best periodical publications include: The Architectural Record (quarterly), (New York); The Architectural Review (monthly), (Boston); the Allgemeine Bauzeitung (quarterly), (Vienna); the Berlin Architekturwelt (monthly), (Berlin); The Builder (weekly), (London); La Construction moderne (weekly), (Paris).

(H. H. S.)

1 For the various chronological systems proposed see Egypt: Chronology.

1 For the different chronological systems suggested, see Egypt: Chronology.

2 Except, possibly, the earliest of those at Sparta (q.v.).—ED.

2 Except, maybe, the earliest ones at Sparta (q.v.).—ED.

3 Article “Architecture,” Ency. Brit., 9th ed.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Article “Architecture,” Ency. Brit., 9th ed.

4 Wilkins made two designs for the whole building; one leaving the quadrangle entirely open on the fourth side, towards the street the other showing a low open colonnaded screen connecting the ends of the two wings. He never for a moment contemplated closing in the quadrangle by buildings on the fourth side.

4 Wilkins created two designs for the entire building; one that left the quadrangle completely open on the fourth side, facing the street, and the other featuring a low open colonnade connecting the ends of the two wings. He never once considered enclosing the quadrangle with buildings on the fourth side.

5 A remarkable instance of this is shown by the railway viaduct at Passy, a large and monumental piece of work in itself, which is built along the centre of the roadway of Napoleon’s bridge. It was’ at first proposed to have a steel railway viaduct parallel with the old bridge, but it was found that the latter, both in respect of solidity and spacious dimensions, would fully bear the erection of the railway viaduct along its centre.

5 An impressive example of this is the railway viaduct at Passy, a substantial and monumental structure in its own right, built down the center of Napoleon’s bridge. Initially, there was a plan to construct a steel railway viaduct parallel to the old bridge, but it was determined that the old bridge, in terms of strength and size, could fully support the construction of the railway viaduct along its center.

6 The western half of the present front; the design was duplicated afterwards, on the extension of the building, but Bodley originated it.

6 The western side of the current front; the design was copied later in the building's extension, but Bodley came up with it first.


ARCHITRAVE (from Lat. arcus, an arch, and trabs, trabem, a beam), an architectural term for the chief beam which carries the superstructure and rests immediately on the columns. In the ordinary entablature it is the lowest of the three divisions, the other two being the frieze and the cornice (see Order). The term is also applied to the moulded frame of a doorway.

ARCHITRAVE (from Latin arcus, meaning arch, and trabs, trabem, meaning beam) is an architectural term for the main beam that supports the structure above it and rests directly on the columns. In a typical entablature, it is the lowest of the three sections, with the other two being the frieze and the cornice (see Order). The term is also used to refer to the decorative frame around a doorway.


ARCHIVE (Lat. archivum, a transliteration of Gr. ἀρχεῖον, an official building), a term (generally used in the plural “archives”), properly denoting the building in which are kept the records, charters and other papers belonging to any state, community or family, but now generally applied to the documents themselves (see Record).

ARCHIVE (Lat. archivum, derived from Gr. archive, an official building), a term (usually used in the plural “archives”), originally referring to the building where records, charters, and other documents belonging to a state, community, or family are kept, but now commonly referring to the documents themselves (see Record).


ARCHIVOLT (from Lat. arcus, an arch, and volta, a vault), an architectural term applied to the mouldings of an architrave, when carried round an arched opening.

ARCHIVOLT (from Lat. arcus, meaning arch, and volta, meaning vault), an architectural term used for the moldings of an architrave when they wrap around an arched opening.


ARCHON (ἄρχων, ruler), the title of the highest magistrate in many ancient Greek states. It is only in Athens that we have any detailed knowledge of the office, and even in this one case the evidence presents problems of the first importance which are incapable of decisive solution. There is no doubt that the archons represented the ancient kings, whose absolutism, under conditions which we can only infer, yielded in process of time to the power of the noble families, supported no doubt by the fighting force of the state. As to the process by which this change was effected there are two accounts. Traditionally, the monarchy after the death of Codrus (? 1068 B.C.) gave place to the life archon whose tenure of office was limited afterwards to ten years and then to one year. Aristotle’s Constitution of Athens (q.v.) speaks of five stages: (1) the institution of the polemarch who took over the military duties of the king; (2) the institution of the archon to relieve the king of his civil duties; (3) the tenure of office was reduced to ten years (? 752 B.C.); (4) the office was taken from the “royal” clan and thrown open to all Eupatridae (? 712 B.C.); (5) office was made annual, and to the existing three offices were added the six thesmothetae whose duty it was to record judicial decisions. The value of this latter account is, of course, debatable, but it is at least compatible with the general trend of development from hereditary absolutism, civil, military and religious, in the person of the “king,” to a constitutional oligarchy. The change was clearly effected by the devolution of the military and civil powers of the king to the polemarch and the archon, while the archon basileus (or king) retained control of state religion. It is equally clear that owing to the predominating importance of civil affairs, the archon became the chief state official and gave his name to the year (hence archon eponymus). It should be noticed that the analogy which has often been suggested between the early history of the archonship at Athens, and such cases as the mayors of the palace in French history, or the tycoon (shogun) and mikado in Japanese history, is misleading. In these cases it is the old royal house that retains the royal title and the semblance of power, while the real authority passes into new hands. In Athens, the new civil office is vested in the old royal family, while the old title along with its religious functions is transferred. The early history of the thesmothetae is not clear, but this much is certain that there is no adequate reason for supposing, as many historians do, that in early times, they, with the three chief archons, constituted a collective or collegiate magistracy. It is true Thucydides (i. 126) states that, in the time of the Cylonian conspiracy (? 632 B.C.), “the nine archons were (i.e. collectively) the principal officials,” but at the same time the responsibility for the action then taken attached to the Alcmaeonidae alone, because one of their number, Megacles, was at that time the archon (i.e. responsibility was personal, not collective). Again, the Constitution of Athens says that down to Solon’s time the archons had no official residence, but that afterwards they used the Thesmotheteion. It is a reasonable inference from this statement that the thesmothetae had previously sat together apart from the superior archons and that it was only after Solon that collegiate responsibility began.

ARCHON (ruler, ruler), the title of the highest official in many ancient Greek states. Detailed information about the office is only available in Athens, and even in this instance, the evidence presents significant challenges that can't be definitively resolved. It's clear that the archons succeeded the ancient kings, whose absolute power gradually gave way to the authority of noble families, likely supported by the military strength of the state. There are two narratives about how this transition occurred. Traditionally, after the death of Codrus (? 1068 B.C.), the monarchy was replaced by a life archon whose term was later limited to ten years and then to one year. Aristotle’s Constitution of Athens (q.v.) outlines five stages: (1) the creation of the polemarch, who took over the king’s military duties; (2) the introduction of the archon to take over civil responsibilities; (3) the office term was reduced to ten years (? 752 BCE); (4) the position was taken from the “royal” clan and opened to all Eupatridae (? 712 BCE); (5) the office became annual, and six thesmothetae, responsible for recording judicial decisions, were added to the existing three offices. The significance of this latter narrative is debatable, but it aligns with the overarching development from hereditary absolute power, civil, military, and religious, in the “king” to a constitutional oligarchy. The transition clearly occurred as military and civil powers were devolved from the king to the polemarch and archon, while the archon basileus (or king) retained control over the state religion. It's also evident that due to the importance of civil matters, the archon became the primary state official and had his name used for the year (thus archon eponymous). The comparison often drawn between the early history of the archonship in Athens, and situations like the mayors of the palace in French history or the tycoon (shogun) and mikado in Japanese history, is misleading. In these cases, the old royal house retains the title and semblance of power, while true authority shifts to new hands. In Athens, the new civil role was held by the old royal family, while the old title and its religious functions were transferred. The early history of the thesmothetae is unclear, but it's certain that there’s no solid rationale for claiming, as many historians do, that they, along with the three chief archons, formed a collective or collegiate magistracy in earlier times. It is true that Thucydides (i. 126) remarks that during the Cylonian conspiracy (? 632 BCE), “the nine archons were (i.e. collectively) the principal officials,” but the accountability for the actions taken then rested solely with the Alcmaeonidae, since one of their members, Megacles, was the archon at that time (i.e. responsibility was personal, not collective). Furthermore, the Constitution of Athens states that up until Solon’s time, the archons had no official residence, but afterward they utilized the Thesmotheteion. It is reasonable to infer from this that the thesmothetae previously met separately from the senior archons and that it was only after Solon that collective responsibility began.

Evolution of the Office.—The history of the democratization of the archonship is beset with equal difficulty. In the early days, 445 the importance of the office (confined as it was to the highest class) must have been immense; there was no audit, no written law, no executive council. The popular assembly was ill-organized and probably summoned by the archons themselves. The only control came from the Areopagus which elected them and would generally be favourably disposed, and from the fact that the military and civil powers were not vested in the same hands. Although the institution of the popular courts by Solon had within it the germ of democratic supremacy, it is clear that the immediate result was small; thus, in the next decade anarchia was continuous and Damasias held the archonship for more than two years in defiance of the new constitution; the prolonged dissension in this matter shows that the office of archon still retained its supreme importance. Gradually, however, the archonship lost its power, especially in judicial matters, until it retained merely the right of holding the preliminary investigation and the formal direction of the popular courts. Its administrative powers, save those wielded by the polemarch (see below and cf. Strategus), dwindled away into matters of routine. We know that Peisistratus ruled by controlling the archonship, which was always held by members of his family, and the archonship of Isagoras was clearly an important party victory; we know further the names of three important men who held the office between Cleisthenes’ reform and the Persian War (Hipparchus, Themistocles (q.v.), Aristides) from which we infer that the office was still the prize of party competition. On the other hand, after 487 B.C. the list of archons contains no name of importance. Presumably this is due to the growing importance of the Strategus and to the institution of sortition (see below), which, whether as cause or effect, is presumably by the 5th century indicative of diminished importance. There can, on these assumptions, be no doubt that, from the early years of the 5th century B.C., the archonship was of practically no importance. Furthermore we find that (probably after the Persian War) the office is thrown open to the second class, and finally in 457 B.C. we meet an archon, Mnesitheides, of the third, or Zeugite, class. Plutarch (Aristides, 22) says that after the great struggle of the Persian War Aristides threw open the office to all the citizens. But in fact the members of the fourth class were not formally admitted even in the 4th century (though by a fiction they were allowed to pose for the time as Zeugites). Furthermore it is not till 457 that even a Zeugite archon is known, according to the Constitution of Athens (c. 26), which dates the change as five years after the death of Ephialtes and does not connect it with Aristides.

Evolution of the Office.—The history of the democratization of the archonship is equally challenging. In the early days, 445 the significance of the office (limited to the highest class) must have been huge; there was no audit, no written law, and no executive council. The popular assembly was poorly organized and likely called together by the archons themselves. The only oversight came from the Areopagus, which elected them and was generally supportive, and from the fact that military and civil authority were not combined in the same hands. Although Solon’s establishment of the popular courts contained the seeds of democratic power, the immediate outcomes were minimal; in the following decade, anarchia was persistent, and Damasias held the archonship for over two years in defiance of the new constitution; the prolonged conflict over this issue indicates that the archonship still held significant power. Gradually, however, the archonship lost its authority, especially in judicial matters, until it merely retained the right to conduct preliminary investigations and formally direct the popular courts. Its administrative responsibilities, except those managed by the polemarch (see below and cf. Strategist), faded into routine tasks. We know that Peisistratus maintained control through the archonship, which was always held by family members, and Isagoras’s archonship represented a significant party victory; we also identify three key figures who held the office between Cleisthenes’ reforms and the Persian War (Hipparchus, Themistocles (q.v.), Aristides), indicating that the position was still a prize in party competition. However, after 487 BCE, the list of archons no longer includes any notable names. This is likely due to the increasing prominence of the Strategus and the introduction of sortition (see below), which, whether as a cause or an effect, indicates a decrease in importance by the 5th century. Based on these assumptions, it is clear that from the early years of the 5th century BCE, the archonship was virtually insignificant. Furthermore, we see that (likely after the Persian War) the office became available to the second class, and finally in 457 BCE, we encounter an archon, Mnesitheides, from the third, or Zeugite, class. Plutarch (Aristides, 22) states that after the intense struggle of the Persian War, Aristides opened the office to all citizens. However, in reality, members of the fourth class were not formally accepted even in the 4th century (though they were allowed to pretend to be Zeugites for a time). Moreover, it is not until 457 that any Zeugite archon is known, according to the Constitution of Athens (c. 26), which records the change as five years after the death of Ephialtes and does not link it to Aristides.

Sortition.—The next question constitutes perhaps the most important problem in Greek political development. At what date was election by lot, or sortition, introduced for the archonship? From the Constitution of Athens (c. 22) we gather that from the fall of the Tyranny to 487 B.C. the archons were αἱρετοί, not κληρωτοί (i.e. chosen by vote, not by lot), and that in 487, limited sortition was introduced, whereby fifty candidates were elected by each tribe, and from these the archons and their “secretary” were chosen by lot. But against this must be set the statement by the same authority that this double method was part of the Solonian reform. The solution of the dilemma is a matter of inference. Three indications favour the former view: (1) the “anarchia” which occurred so often between Solon and Peisistratus shows that the office was at that time a question of party (i.e. elective); (2) the statement that Solon invented sortition for the office is put as the basis of a comparison (ὄθεν, σημεῖον) and, therefore, may fairly be regarded as a hypothesis; (3) there is no indication that the change made in 487 B.C. was a return to an obsolete method, and on the same argument it is odd that Solon’s alleged system should not have been revived at the end of the Tyranny. On the other hand Herodotus (vi. 109) states that, in 490, before the battle of Marathon, the polemarch was chosen by lot. If this be true, it follows that the office of polemarch must have lost its military importance, which was not the case, inasmuch as the polemarch at Marathon gave the casting vote in favour of immediate battle. Whether, therefore, Solon or Aristides was the first to introduce sortition, it is perfectly clear that the lot was not used between the Tyranny and 487 B.C. and that after 487 the lot was always used (see J.E. Sandys, Constitution of Athens c. 8 note 1, c. 22 § 5, note); in fact, at a date not known the mixed system of Aristides gave place to double sortition, in which the first nomination also was by lot. To enter here into the theory of the lot is impossible. It should, however, be observed that in the somewhat material atmosphere of constitutional Athens the religious significance of the lot had vanished; no important office in the 5th and 4th centuries was entrusted to its decision. The real effect of sortition was to equalize the chances of rich and poor without civil strife. Now it is perfectly clear that it could not have been this object which impelled Solon to introduce sortition; for in his time the archonship was not open to the lower classes, and, therefore, election was more democratic than sortition, whereas later the case was reversed. It should further be mentioned that, before the discovery of the Aristotelian Constitution in 1891, Grote, C.F. Hermann, Busolt and others had maintained that the lot was not used in Athens before the time of Cleisthenes; and in spite of the treatise, it must be admitted that there is no satisfactory evidence, historical or inferential, that their theory was unsound.

Sortition.—The next question is perhaps the most important issue in the development of Greek politics. When was election by lot, or sortition, first introduced for the archonship? From the Constitution of Athens (c. 22), we learn that from the end of the Tyranny until 487 BCE, the archons were chosen, not lottery winners (i.e. chosen by vote, not by lot), and that in 487, limited sortition was introduced, where fifty candidates were selected by each tribe, and from these, the archons and their “secretary” were chosen by lot. However, we must also consider the statement from the same source that this dual method was part of the Solonian reform. The resolution of this dilemma requires some inference. Three points support the former view: (1) the frequent “anarchia” between Solon and Peisistratus indicates that the position was at that time a partisan issue (i.e. elective); (2) the claim that Solon created sortition for the role is presented as the basis of a comparison (Therefore, sign), and can therefore reasonably be interpreted as a hypothesis; (3) there is no evidence that the change made in 487 BCE was a return to an outdated method, and it’s strange that Solon’s supposed system wasn’t revived at the end of the Tyranny. On the other hand, Herodotus (vi. 109) states that in 490, before the battle of Marathon, the polemarch was chosen by lot. If this is true, it suggests that the polemarch's role must have lost its military significance, which was not the case, as the polemarch at Marathon held the deciding vote in favor of immediate battle. Whether Solon or Aristides was the first to implement sortition, it is clear that the lot wasn’t used between the Tyranny and 487 BCE, and that after 487, it was consistently used (see J.E. Sandys, Constitution of Athens c. 8 note 1, c. 22 § 5, note); in fact, at an unknown date, the mixed system of Aristides was replaced by double sortition, where the first nomination was also by lot. Delving into the theory of the lot here is not feasible. It should be noted, however, that in the somewhat pragmatic atmosphere of constitutional Athens, the religious significance of the lot had disappeared; no significant office in the 5th and 4th centuries was decided by it. The actual impact of sortition was to level the playing field between the rich and the poor without civil conflict. It is clear that this was not the reason Solon introduced sortition; during his time, the archonship was not accessible to the lower classes, making election more democratic than sortition, whereas later, that situation reversed. Additionally, before the discovery of the Aristotelian Constitution in 1891, Grote, C.F. Hermann, Busolt, and others argued that the lot was not used in Athens until the time of Cleisthenes; despite the treatise, it must be acknowledged that there is no convincing evidence, either historical or inferential, to disprove their theory.

Qualifications and Functions.—It remains to give a brief analysis of the qualifications and functions of the archons after the year 487 B.C. After election (in the time of Aristotle in the month Anthesterion; in the 3rd century in Munychion) a short time had to elapse before entering on office to allow of the dokimasia (examination of fitness). In this the whole life of the nominee was investigated, and each had to prove that he was physically without flaw. Failure to pass the scrutiny involved a certain loss of civic rights (e.g. that of addressing the people). The successful candidate had to take an oath to the people (that he would not take bribes, &c.) and to go through certain preliminary rites. Any citizen could bring an impeachment (eisangelia) against the archons. Any delinquency involved a trial before the Heliaea. Finally an examination took place at the end of the year of office, when each archon had to answer for his actions with person and possessions; till then he could not leave the country, be adopted into another family, dispose of his property, nor receive any “crown of honour.” A similar investigation took place with regard to the assessors (paredri) whom the three senior archons chose to assist them. The archons at the end of their year of office (some say on entering upon office) became members of the Areopagus, which was, therefore, a body composed of ex-archons of tried probity and wisdom. The archons as a body retained some duties such as the appointment of jurymen, the sortition of the athlothetae, &c. (but see Gilbert’s Antiquities, Eng. trans., p. 251, n. 1). On entering upon office the archon (archon eponymus) made proclamation by his herald that he would not interfere with private property. His official residence was the Prytaneum where he presided over all questions of family, e.g. the protection of parents against children and vice versa, protection of widows, wardship of heiresses and orphans, divorce; in religious matters he superintended the Dionysia, the Thargelia, the processions in honour of Zeus the Saviour and Asclepius. The archon basileus superintended the holy places, the mysteries, the Lampadephoria (Torch race), &c., questions of national religion and certain cases of bloodguiltiness. His official residence was the Stoa Basileios, and his wife, as officially representing the wife of Dionysus, was called Basilinna. The polemarch, who was at any rate titular commander down to about 487 B.C. (see above; and Herod, vi. 109, ἑνδέκατος ψηφιδοφόρος), became in the 5th century a sort of consul who watched over the rights of resident aliens (metoeci) in their family and legal affairs. He offered sacrifices to Artemis Agrotera and Enyalios, superintended epitaphia and arranged for the annual honours paid to the tyrannicides. His official residence was the Epilyceum (formerly called the Polemarcheion).

Qualifications and Functions.—Next, we'll provide a brief overview of the qualifications and functions of the archons after the year 487 BCE After their election (during Aristotle's time in the month of Anthesterion; in the 3rd century in Munychion), there was a brief period before they could take office to allow for the dokimasia (fitness examination). In this process, the entire life of the nominee was scrutinized, and each had to demonstrate that he was physically sound. Failing this examination resulted in a loss of certain civic rights (e.g. the right to address the public). The successful candidate had to take an oath to the people (promising not to accept bribes, etc.) and participate in specific preliminary rites. Any citizen could bring an impeachment (eisangelia) against the archons. Any wrongdoing led to a trial before the Heliaea. Finally, there was an examination at the end of their term, where each archon had to account for their actions regarding personal conduct and property. Until then, they could not leave the country, be adopted into another family, sell their property, or receive any "crown of honor." A similar investigation was conducted for the assessors (paredri) that the three senior archons appointed to assist them. After their term, the archons (some say upon taking office) became members of the Areopagus, a body comprised of former archons known for their integrity and wisdom. The archons collectively retained some responsibilities, such as appointing jurors, sorting the athlothetae, etc. (see Gilbert’s Antiquities, Eng. trans., p. 251, n. 1). Upon taking office, the archon (archon eponymus) announced through a herald that he would respect private property. His official residence was the Prytaneum, where he oversaw all family-related issues, such as protecting parents from their children and vice versa, safeguarding widows, managing heiresses and orphans, and handling divorces; in religious matters, he oversaw the Dionysia, the Thargelia, and processions honoring Zeus the Savior and Asclepius. The archon basileus managed holy sites, mysteries, the Lampadephoria (Torch race), and matters of national religion, including certain cases of bloodguilt. His official residence was the Stoa Basileios, and his wife, known as Basilinna, officially represented Dionysus's wife. The polemarch, who had been the titular commander up until about 487 BCE (see above; and Herod, vi. 109, 11th mosaic artist), evolved in the 5th century into a kind of consul who oversaw the rights of resident aliens (metoeci) in their family and legal matters. He conducted sacrifices to Artemis Agrotera and Enyalios, supervised epitaphia, and arranged for the annual honors paid to the tyrannicides. His official residence was the Epilyceum (formerly known as the Polemarcheion).

Bibliography.-G. Gilbert, Constitutional Antiquities (Eng. trans., 1895); Eduard Meyer’s Geschichte des Alterthums, ii. sect. 228; A.H.J. Greenidge, Handbook of Greek Constitutional Hist. (1895); J.W. Headlam, Election by Lot in Athens (Camb., 1891); and authorities quoted under Greece: History, ancient, and Athens: History.

References.-G. Gilbert, Constitutional Antiquities (English translation, 1895); Eduard Meyer’s History of Antiquity, ii. sect. 228; A.H.J. Greenidge, Handbook of Greek Constitutional History (1895); J.W. Headlam, Election by Lot in Athens (Cambridge, 1891); and references cited under Greece: Ancient History, and Athens: History.

(J. M. M.)

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ARCHPRIEST (Lat. archipresbyter, Gr. ἀρχιπρεσβύτερος), in the Christian Church, originally the title of the chief of the priests in a diocese. The office appears as early as the 4th century as that of the priest who presided over the presbyters of the diocese and assisted the bishop in matters of public worship, much as the archdeacon helped him in administrative affairs. Where, as in Germany, the dioceses were of vast extent, these were divided into several archpresbyterates. Out of these developed the rural deaneries, the office of archpriest being ultimately merged in that of rural dean, with which it became synonymous. It thus became strictly subordinate to the jurisdiction of the archdeacon. In Rome itself, as the office of archdeacon grew into that of cardinal-camerlengo, so that of archpriest of St Peter’s developed into that of the cardinal-vicar. In England from 1598 until the appointment of a vicar-apostolic in 1623 the Roman Catholic clergy were placed by the pope under an “archpriest” as superior of the English mission. In the Lutheran Church in Germany the title archpriest (Erzpriester) was in some cases long retained as the equivalent of that of superintendent, sometimes also still called dean (Dechant), his functions being much the same as those of the rural dean.

ARCHPRIEST (Lat. archipresbyter, Gr. senior elder), in the Christian Church, originally referred to the head priest in a diocese. This role emerged as early as the 4th century as the priest who oversaw the presbyters of the diocese and assisted the bishop in public worship, similar to how the archdeacon supported him in administrative tasks. In places like Germany, where dioceses were large, they were split into several archpresbyterates. From these developed the rural deaneries, with the role of archpriest eventually combining with that of rural dean, making them synonymous. It thus became definitively subordinate to the authority of the archdeacon. In Rome, as the role of archdeacon evolved into that of cardinal-camerlengo, the role of archpriest of St Peter’s became that of the cardinal-vicar. In England, from 1598 until the appointment of a vicar-apostolic in 1623, the Pope placed the Roman Catholic clergy under an "archpriest" as the leader of the English mission. In the Lutheran Church in Germany, the title archpriest (Erzpriester) was sometimes retained for a long time as equivalent to that of superintendent, and was also still referred to as dean (Dechant), with functions similar to those of the rural dean.


ARCHYTAS (c. 428-347 B.C.), of Tarentum, Greek philosopher and scientist of the Pythagorean school, famous as the intimate friend of Plato, was the son of Mnesagoras or Histiaeus. Equally distinguished in natural science, philosophy and the administration of civic affairs, he takes a high place among the versatile savants of the ancient Greek world. He was a man of high character and benevolent disposition, a fine flute-player, and a generous master to his slaves, for whose children he invented the rattle. He took a prominent part in state affairs, and, contrary to precedent, was seven times elected commander of the army. Under his leadership, Tarentum fought with unvarying success against the Messapii, Lucania and even Syracuse. After a life of high intellectual achievement and uninterrupted public service, he was drowned (according to a tradition suggested by Horace, Odes, i. 28) on a voyage across the Adriatic, and was buried, as we are told, at Matinum in Apulia. He is described as the eighth leader of the Pythagorean school, and was a pupil (not the teacher, as some have maintained) of Philolaus. In mathematics, he was the first to draw up a methodical treatment of mechanics with the aid of geometry; he first distinguished harmonic progression from arithmetical and geometrical progressions. As a geometer he is classed by Eudemus, the greatest ancient authority, among those who “have enriched the science with original theorems, and given it a really sound arrangement.” He evolved an ingenious solution of the duplication of the cube, which shows considerable knowledge of the generation of cylinders and cones. The theory of proportion, and the study of acoustics and music were considerably advanced by his investigations. He was said to be the inventor of a kind of flying-machine, a wooden pigeon balanced by a weight suspended from a pulley, and set in motion by compressed air escaping from a valve.1 Fragments of his ethical and metaphysical writings are quoted by Stobaeus, Simplicius and others. To portions of these Aristotle has been supposed to have been indebted for his doctrine of the categories and some of his chief ethical theories. It is, however, certain that these fragments are mainly forgeries, attributable to the eclecticism of the 1st or 2nd century A.D., of which the chief characteristic was a desire to father later doctrines on the old masters. Such fragments as seem to be authentic are of small philosophical value. It is important to notice that Archytas must have been famous as a philosopher, inasmuch as Aristotle wrote a special treatise (not extant) On the Philosophy of Archytas. Some positive idea of his speculations may be derived from two of his observations: the one in which he notices that the parts of animals and plants are in general rounded in form, and the other dealing with the sense of hearing, which, in virtue of its limited receptivity, he compares with vessels, which when filled can hold no more. Two important principles are illustrated by these thoughts, (1) that there is no absolute distinction between the organic and the inorganic, and (2) that the argument from final causes is no explanation of phenomena. Archytas may be quoted as an example of Plato’s perfect ruler, the philosopher-king, who combines practical sagacity with high character and philosophic insight.

ARCHYTAS (c. 428-347 BCE), from Tarentum, was a Greek philosopher and scientist of the Pythagorean school, well-known as a close friend of Plato. He was the son of Mnesagoras or Histiaeus. Noted for his achievements in natural science, philosophy, and public administration, he holds a prominent place among the diverse intellectuals of ancient Greece. He had a strong character and a kind nature, was a skilled flute player, and was generous to his slaves, even creating a rattle for their children. He was heavily involved in state matters and, breaking tradition, was elected commander of the army seven times. Under his leadership, Tarentum consistently triumphed over the Messapii, Lucania, and even Syracuse. After a life filled with intellectual accomplishments and dedicated public service, he reportedly drowned while crossing the Adriatic Sea (as suggested by Horace, Odes, i. 28) and was buried, as it is said, in Matinum in Apulia. He is recognized as the eighth leader of the Pythagorean school and was a student (not a teacher, as some claim) of Philolaus. In mathematics, he was the first to systematically address mechanics using geometry; he also distinguished harmonic progression from arithmetic and geometric progressions. Eudemus, the foremost ancient authority, classified him among those who “enriched the science with original theorems and provided a solid framework.” He developed a clever solution for the problem of duplicating the cube, demonstrating notable knowledge of how to generate cylinders and cones. His research significantly advanced the theory of proportion, acoustics, and music. He is said to have invented a type of flying machine, a wooden pigeon balanced by weight on a pulley and powered by compressed air released from a valve.1Fragments of his ethical and metaphysical writings are cited by Stobaeus, Simplicius, and others. Portions of these are thought to have influenced Aristotle's doctrine of the categories and some of his main ethical theories. However, it is clear that these fragments are mostly forgeries from the eclecticism of the 1st or 2nd century CE, characterized by a tendency to attribute later ideas to earlier thinkers. The fragments that seem authentic have limited philosophical significance. It’s noteworthy that Archytas was recognized as a philosopher, as Aristotle wrote a special treatise (now lost) titled On the Philosophy of Archytas. Some understanding of his ideas can be gleaned from two of his observations: one noting that parts of animals and plants are generally rounded, and the other discussing hearing, which he likens to vessels that cannot hold more once filled due to their limited capacity. These thoughts illustrate two key principles: (1) that there's no absolute distinction between organic and inorganic matter, and (2) that final causes do not provide a true explanation of phenomena. Archytas exemplifies Plato’s ideal ruler, the philosopher-king, who blends practical wisdom with strong character and philosophical insight.

See G. Hartenstein, De Arch. Tar. frag. (Leipzig, 1833); O.F. Gruppe, Über d. Frag. d. Arch. (1840); F. Beckmann, De Pythag. reliq. (Berlin, 1844, 1850); Egger, De Arch. Tar. vit., op. phil.; Ed. Zeller, Phil. d. Griech.; Theodor Gomperz, Greek Thinkers, ii. 259 (Eng. trans. G.G. Berry, Lond., 1905); G.J. Allman, Greek Geometry from Thales to Euclid (1889); Florian Cajori, History of Mathematics (New York, 1894); M. Cantor, Gesch. d. gr. Math. (1894 foll.). The mathematical fragments are collected by Fr. Blass, Mélanges Graux (Paris, 1884). For Pythagorean mathematics see further Pythagoras.

See G. Hartenstein, De Arch. Tar. frag. (Leipzig, 1833); O.F. Gruppe, Über d. Frag. d. Arch. (1840); F. Beckmann, De Pythag. reliq. (Berlin, 1844, 1850); Egger, De Arch. Tar. vit., op. phil.; Ed. Zeller, Phil. d. Griech.; Theodor Gomperz, Greek Thinkers, ii. 259 (Eng. trans. G.G. Berry, Lond., 1905); G.J. Allman, Greek Geometry from Thales to Euclid (1889); Florian Cajori, History of Mathematics (New York, 1894); M. Cantor, Gesch. d. gr. Math. (1894 foll.). The mathematical fragments are collected by Fr. Blass, Mélanges Graux (Paris, 1884). For Pythagorean mathematics see further Pythagoras.


1 If this be the proper translation of Aulus Gellius, Noctes Atticae, x. 12., 9, “... simulacrum columbae e ligno ... factum; ita erat scilicet libramentis suspensum et aura spiritus inclusa atque occulta concitum.” (See Aeronautics.)

1 If this is the correct translation of Aulus Gellius, Noctes Atticae, x. 12., 9, “... a dove figure made from wood ... it was indeed suspended by weight and stirred by the hidden breath of air.” (See Aeronautics.)


ARCIS-SUR-AUBE, a town of eastern France, capital of an arrondissement in the department of Aube, on the left bank of the Aube, 23 m. N. of Troyes on the Eastern railway to Châlons-sur-Marne. Pop. (1906) 2803. Fires in 1719, 1727 and 1814 destroyed the ancient buildings, and it is now a town built in modern style with wide and regular streets. A château of the 18th century occupies the site of an older one in which Diana of Poitiers, mistress of Henry II., resided. The only other building of interest is the church, which dates from the 15th century. In front of it there is a statue of Danton, a native of the town. Arcis-sur-Aube has a tribunal of first instance. Its industries include important hosiery manufactures, and it carries on trade in grain and coal. The town communicates with Paris by means of the Aube, which becomes navigable at this point.

ARCIS-SUR-AUBE, is a town in eastern France, the capital of an arrondissement in the Aube department, located on the left bank of the Aube River, 23 miles north of Troyes on the Eastern railway to Châlons-sur-Marne. Population (1906) was 2,803. Fires in 1719, 1727, and 1814 destroyed the historic buildings, and it is now a town built in modern style with wide, regular streets. An 18th-century château stands on the site of an older one where Diane de Poitiers, mistress of Henry II, lived. The only other point of interest is the church, which dates back to the 15th century. In front of it, there's a statue of Danton, a local native. Arcis-sur-Aube has a local court of first instance. Its industries include significant hosiery manufacturing, and it trades in grain and coal. The town is connected to Paris via the Aube River, which becomes navigable at this location.

A battle was fought here on the 20th and 21st of March 1814 between Napoleon and the Austro-Russian army under Schwarzenberg (see Napoleonic Campaigns).

A battle took place here on March 20th and 21st, 1814, between Napoleon and the Austro-Russian army led by Schwarzenberg (see Napoleonic Campaigns).


ARCOLA, a village of northern Italy, 16 m. E.S.E. of Verona, on the Alpone stream, near its confluence with the Adige below Verona. The village gives its name to the three days’ battle of Arcola (15th, 16th and 17th of November 1796), in which the French, under General Napoleon Bonaparte, defeated the Austrians commanded by Allvintzy (see French Revolutionary Wars).

ARCOLA, a village in northern Italy, 16 miles east-southeast of Verona, on the Alpone River, close to where it merges with the Adige River below Verona. The village is known for the three-day battle of Arcola (November 15, 16, and 17, 1796), where the French, led by General Napoleon Bonaparte, defeated the Austrians commanded by Allvintzy (see French Revolutionary Wars).


ARCOS DE LA FRONTERA, a town of southern Spain, in the province of Cadiz; on the right bank of the river Guadalete, which flows past Santa Maria into the Bay of Cadiz. Pop. (1900) 13,926. The town occupies a ridge of sandstone, washed on three sides by the river, and commanding fine views of the lofty peak of San Cristobál, on the east, and the fertile Guadalete valley, celebrated in ancient Spanish ballads for its horses. At the highest point of the ridge is a Gothic church with a fine gateway, and a modern tower overlooking the town. The fame of its ten bells dates from the wars between Spaniards and Moors in which “Arcos of the Frontier” received its name. After its capture by Alphonso the Wise of Castile (1252-1284), the town was a Christian stronghold on the borders of Moorish territory. Another church contains several Moorish banners, taken in 1483 at the battle of Záhara, a neighbouring village. The ruined citadel, the theatre, and the palace of the dukes of Arcos are the only other noteworthy buildings. Roman remains have been found in the vicinity, and the ridge of Arcos is honeycombed with rock-hewn chambers, said to be ancient cave-dwellings.

ARCOS DE LA FRONTERA, a town in southern Spain, located in the province of Cadiz; on the right bank of the Guadalete River, which flows past Santa Maria into the Bay of Cadiz. Pop. (1900) 13,926. The town sits on a sandstone ridge, surrounded on three sides by the river, offering great views of the tall peak of San Cristobál to the east and the fertile Guadalete valley, known in ancient Spanish ballads for its horses. At the highest point of the ridge stands a Gothic church with an impressive gateway and a modern tower that overlooks the town. The well-known ten bells have a history that dates back to the wars between Spaniards and Moors, which is how “Arcos of the Frontier” got its name. After its capture by Alphonso the Wise of Castile (1252-1284), the town became a Christian stronghold on the edge of Moorish territory. Another church holds several Moorish banners, taken in 1483 during the battle of Záhara, a nearby village. The only other notable buildings include the ruined citadel, the theater, and the palace of the dukes of Arcos. Roman remains have been discovered nearby, and the ridge of Arcos is filled with rock-hewn chambers, believed to be ancient cave-dwellings.

See Galeria de Arcobricenses illustres (Arcos, 1892), and Riqueza y cultura de Arcos de la Frontera (Arcos, 1898); both by M. Mancheño y Olivares.

See Galeria de Arcobricenses illustres (Arcos, 1892), and Riqueza y cultura de Arcos de la Frontera (Arcos, 1898); both by M. Mancheño y Olivares.


ARCOSOLIUM (from Lat. arcus, arch, and solium, a sarcophagus), an architectural term applied to an arched recess used as a burial place in a catacomb (q.v.).

ARCOSOLIUM (from Latin arcus, meaning arch, and solium, meaning sarcophagus), is an architectural term for an arched recess used as a burial spot in a catacomb (q.v.).


ARCOT, the name of a city and two districts of British India in the presidency of Madras. Arcot city is the principal town in the district of North Arcot. It occupies a very prominent place in the history of the British conquest of India, but it has now lost its manufactures and trade and preserves only a few mosques and tombs as traces of its former grandeur. It is a station on the line of railway from Madras to Beypur, but has ceased to be 447 a military cantonment. The most famous episode in its history is the capture and defence of Arcot by Clive. In the middle of the 18th century, during the war between the rival claimants to the throne of the Carnatic, Mahommed Ali and Chanda Sahib, the English supported the claims of the former and the French those of the latter. In order to divert the attention of Chanda Sahib and his French auxiliaries from the siege of Trichinopoly, Clive suggested an attack upon Arcot and offered to command the expedition. His offer was accepted; but the only force which could be spared to him was 200 Europeans and 300 native troops to attack a fort garrisoned by 1100 men. The place, however, was abandoned without a struggle and Clive took possession of the fortress. The expedition produced the desired effect; Chanda Sahib was obliged to detach a large force of 10,000 men to recapture the city, and the pressure on the English garrison at Trichinopoly was removed. Arcot was afterwards captured by the French; but in 1760 was retaken by Colonel Coote after the battle of Wandiwash. It was also taken by Hyder Ali when that invader ravaged the Carnatic in 1780, and held by him for some time. The town of Arcot, together with the whole of the territory of the Carnatic, passed into the hands of the British in 1801, upon the formal resignation of the government by the nawab, Azim-ud-daula, who received a liberal pension.

ARCOT, is a city and two districts in British India, located in the Madras presidency. Arcot city serves as the main town in the North Arcot district. It played a significant role in the history of the British conquest of India, but it has since lost its industries and trade, leaving only a few mosques and tombs as reminders of its former glory. It is a stop on the railway line connecting Madras to Beypur, but it is no longer a military cantonment. The most notable event in its history is the capture and defense of Arcot by Clive. In the mid-18th century, during the conflict between the rival claimants to the Carnatic throne, Mahommed Ali and Chanda Sahib, the English supported Mahommed Ali, while the French backed Chanda Sahib. To distract Chanda Sahib and his French allies from besieging Trichinopoly, Clive proposed an attack on Arcot and offered to lead the mission. His offer was accepted, but the only troops available to him were 200 Europeans and 300 native soldiers to assault a fort defended by 1,100 men. However, the fort was vacated without resistance, and Clive took control of it. The expedition achieved its goal; Chanda Sahib had to send a large force of 10,000 men to retake the city, relieving the pressure on the English garrison in Trichinopoly. Arcot was later captured by the French; however, in 1760, Colonel Coote regained it after the battle of Wandiwash. Hyder Ali also took Arcot during his invasion of the Carnatic in 1780 and held it for a time. The town of Arcot, along with the entire Carnatic territory, came under British control in 1801 after the nawab, Azim-ud-daula, formally resigned the government, receiving a generous pension in return.

The district of North Arcot is bounded on the N. by the districts of Cuddapah and Nellore; on the E. by the district of Chingleput; on the S. by the districts of South Arcot and Salem; and on the W. by the Mysore territory. The area of North Arcot is 7386 sq. m., and the population in 1901 was 2,207,712, showing an increase of 4% in the decade. The aspect of the country, in the eastern and southern parts, is flat and uninteresting; but the western parts, where it runs along the foot of the Eastern Ghats, as well as all the country northwards from Trivellam to Tripali and the Karkambadi Pass, are mountainous, with an agreeable diversity of scenery. The elevated platform in the west of the district is comparatively cool, being 2000 ft. above the level of the sea, with a mean maximum of the thermometer in the hottest weather of 88°. The hills are composed principally of granite and syenite, and have little vegetation. Patches of stunted jungle here and there diversify their rugged and barren aspect; but they abound in minerals, especially copper and iron ores. The narrow valleys between the hills are very fertile, having a rich soil and an abundant water-supply even in the driest seasons. The principal river in the district is the Palar, which rises in Mysore, and flows through North Arcot from west to east past the towns of Vellore and Arcot, into the neighbouring district of Chingleput, eventually falling into the sea at Sadras. Although a considerable stream in the rainy season, and often impassable, the bed is dry or nearly so during the rest of the year. Other smaller rivers of the district are the Paini, which passes near Chittore and falls into the Palar, the Sonamukhi and the Chayaur. These streams are all dry during the hot season, but in the rains they flow freely and replenish the numerous tanks and irrigation channels. The administrative headquarters are at Chittore, but the largest towns are Vellore (the military station), Tirupati (a great religious centre), and Wallajapet and Kalahasti (the two chief places of trade).

The North Arcot district is bordered to the north by the Cuddapah and Nellore districts; to the east by Chingleput; to the south by South Arcot and Salem; and to the west by the Mysore territory. North Arcot covers an area of 7,386 square miles, with a population of 2,207,712 recorded in 1901, reflecting a 4% increase over the previous decade. The eastern and southern parts of the region are flat and quite dull, whereas the western areas, which are adjacent to the Eastern Ghats, as well as the land north of Trivellam to Tripali and the Karkambadi Pass, are mountainous and display a pleasing variety of scenery. The elevated plateau in the western part of the district is relatively cool, sitting 2,000 feet above sea level, with an average maximum temperature of 88° during the hottest months. The hills are mainly composed of granite and syenite and have sparse vegetation. There are patches of stunted jungle that break up their rugged and barren look, but the area is rich in minerals, especially copper and iron ores. The narrow valleys between the hills are very fertile, featuring rich soil and a plentiful water supply even in the driest seasons. The primary river in the district is the Palar, which originates in Mysore and flows through North Arcot from west to east, passing the towns of Vellore and Arcot, before moving into the nearby Chingleput district and eventually emptying into the sea at Sadras. Although it is a significant stream during the rainy season and often impassable, its bed is dry or nearly dry the rest of the year. Other smaller rivers in the district include the Paini, which runs near Chittore and feeds into the Palar, along with the Sonamukhi and the Chayaur. These streams are dry during the hot season, but they flow freely during the rains and refill the many tanks and irrigation channels. The administrative center is in Chittore, but the largest towns are Vellore (the military base), Tirupati (a major religious site), and Wallajapet and Kalahasti (the two main trading hubs).

The district of South Arcot is bounded on the N. by the districts of North Arcot and Chingleput; on the E. by the French territory of Pondicherry and the Bay of Bengal; on the S. by the British districts of Tanjore and Trichinopoly; and on the W. by the British district of Salem. It contains an area of 5217 sq. m.; and its population in 1901 was 2,349,894, showing an increase of 9% in the decade. The aspect of the district resembles that of other parts of the Coromandel coast. It is low and sandy near the sea, and for the most part level till near the western border, where ranges of hills form the boundary between this and the neighbouring district of Salem. These ranges are in some parts about 5000 ft. high, with solitary hills scattered about the district. In the western tracts, dense patches of jungle furnish covert to tigers, leopards, bears and monkeys. The principal river is the Coleroon which forms the southern boundary of the district, separating it from Trichinopoly. This river is abundantly supplied with water during the greater part of the year, and two irrigating channels distribute its waters through the district. The other rivers are the Vellar, Pennar, and Gadalum, all of which are used for irrigation purposes. Numerous small irrigation channels lead off from them, by means of which a considerable area of waste land has been brought under cultivation. Under the East India Company, a commercial resident was stationed at Cuddalore, and the Company’s weavers were encouraged by many privileges. The manufacture and export of native cloth have now been almost entirely superseded by the introduction of European piece goods. The chief seaport of the district of South Arcot is Cuddalore, close to the site of Fort St David. The principal crops in both districts are rice, millet, other food grains, oil-seeds and indigo.

The South Arcot district is bordered to the north by North Arcot and Chingleput; to the east by the French territory of Pondicherry and the Bay of Bengal; to the south by the British districts of Tanjore and Trichinopoly; and to the west by the British district of Salem. It covers an area of 5,217 square miles, and its population in 1901 was 2,349,894, reflecting a 9% increase over the decade. The landscape of the district is similar to other areas of the Coromandel coast. It is low and sandy near the sea, mostly flat until the western border, where mountain ranges form the boundary with Salem. Some parts of these ranges reach about 5,000 feet in height, with isolated hills scattered throughout the district. In the western areas, dense patches of jungle provide cover for tigers, leopards, bears, and monkeys. The main river is the Coleroon, which marks the southern boundary of the district, separating it from Trichinopoly. This river has a steady supply of water for most of the year, and two irrigation channels distribute its waters across the district. Other rivers include the Vellar, Pennar, and Gadalum, all used for irrigation. Numerous small irrigation channels branch off from these rivers, turning a significant amount of wasteland into cultivated land. During the East India Company era, a commercial representative was based in Cuddalore, and the Company’s weavers were given many incentives. The production and export of local cloth have now largely been replaced by European textiles. Cuddalore, near the site of Fort St David, is the main seaport for South Arcot. The primary crops in both districts include rice, millet, various food grains, oilseeds, and indigo.


ARCTIC (Gr. ῎Αρκτος, the Bear, the northern constellation of Ursa Major), the epithet applied to the region round the North Pole, covering the area (both ocean and lands) where the characteristic polar conditions of climate, &c., obtain. The Arctic Circle is drawn at 66° 30′ N. (see Polar Regions).

ARCTIC (Gr. ᾿Αρκτος, meaning Bear, the northern constellation of Ursa Major), is the term used for the area around the North Pole, encompassing both the ocean and land where the distinct polar climate conditions prevail. The Arctic Circle is marked at 66° 30′ N. (see Polar Regions).


ARCTINUS, of Miletus, one of the earliest poets of Greece and contributors to the epic cycle. He flourished probably about 744 B.C. (Ol. 7). His poems are lost, but an idea of them can be gained from the Chrestomathy written by Proclus the Neo-Platonist of the 5th century or by a grammarian of the same name in the time of the Antonines. The Aethiopis Αἰθιοπίς, in five books, was so called from the Aethiopian Memnon, who became the ally of the Trojans after the death of Hector. As the opening shows, it took up the narrative from the close of the Iliad. It begins with the famous deeds and death of the Amazon Penthesileia, and concludes with the death and burial of Achilles and the dispute between Ajax and Odysseus for his arms. The title thus only applied to part of the poem. The Sack of Troy (Ίλίου Πέρσις) gives the stories of the wooden horse, Sinon, and Laocoon, the capture of the city, and the departure of the Greeks under the wrath of Athene at the outrage of Ajax on Cassandra. The Little Iliad (Ίγιἀς μικρά) of Lesches formed the transition between the Aethiopis and the Sack of Troy.

ARCTINUS, of Miletus, one of the earliest poets of Greece and contributors to the epic cycle. He likely thrived around 744 BCE (Ol. 7). His poems are lost, but we can get an idea of them from the Chrestomathy written by Proclus the Neo-Platonist in the 5th century or by a grammarian with the same name during the time of the Antonines. The Aethiopis Abyssinian, in five books, was named after the Ethiopian Memnon, who became the ally of the Trojans after Hector's death. As the beginning shows, it picks up the story from the end of the Iliad. It starts with the famous deeds and death of the Amazon Penthesileia and wraps up with the death and burial of Achilles, as well as the conflict between Ajax and Odysseus over his armor. The title thus only refers to part of the poem. The Sack of Troy (Ilium Persis) tells the stories of the wooden horse, Sinon, and Laocoon, the fall of the city, and the Greeks' departure under Athene’s wrath due to Ajax's assault on Cassandra. The Little Iliad (Ίγιἀς μικρά) by Lesches acted as the link between the Aethiopis and the Sack of Troy.

Kinkel, Epicorum Graecorum Fragmenta (1877); Welcker, Der epische Cyclus; Müller, History of the Literature of Ancient Greece; Lang, Homer and the Epic (1893); Monro, Journal of Hellenic Studies (1883); T.W. Allen in Classical Quarterly, April 1908, pp. 82 foll.

Kinkel, Epicorum Graecorum Fragmenta (1877); Welcker, Der epische Cyclus; Müller, History of the Literature of Ancient Greece; Lang, Homer and the Epic (1893); Monro, Journal of Hellenic Studies (1883); T.W. Allen in Classical Quarterly, April 1908, pp. 82 and following.


ARCTURUS, the brightest star in the northern hemisphere, situated in the constellation Boötes (q.v.) in an almost direct line with the tail (ζ and η) of the constellation Ursa Major (Great Bear); hence its derivation from the Gr. ἄρκτος, bear, and οὖρος, guard. Arcturus has been supposed to be referred to in various passages of the Hebrew Bible; the Vulgate reads Arcturus for stars mentioned in Job ix. 9, xxxvii. 9, xxxviii. 31, as well as Amos v. 8. Other versions, as also modern authorities, have preferred, e.g., Orion, the Pleiades, the Scorpion, the Great Bear (of. Amos in the “International Critical Comment” series, and G. Schiaparelli, Astronomy in the O.T., Eng. trans., Oxford, 1905, ch. iv.). According to one of the Greek legends about Arcas, son of Lycaon, king of Arcadia, he was killed by his father and his flesh was served up in a banquet to Zeus, who was indignant at the crime and restored him to life. Subsequently Arcas, when hunting, chanced to pursue his mother Callisto, who had been transformed into a bear, as far as the temple of Lycaean Zeus; to prevent the crime of matricide Zeus transported them both to the heavens (Ovid, Metam. ii. 410), where Callisto became the constellation Ursa Major, and Areas the star Arcturus (see Lycaon and Callisto).

ARCTURUS, the brightest star in the northern hemisphere, is located in the constellation Boötes (q.v.) in a nearly straight line with the tail (ζ and η) of the constellation Ursa Major (Great Bear). This is why its name comes from the Greek words bear, meaning bear, and οὖρος, meaning guard. Arcturus is believed to be referenced in various sections of the Hebrew Bible. The Vulgate translates Arcturus for the stars mentioned in Job ix. 9, xxxvii. 9, xxxviii. 31, and Amos v. 8. Other translations, along with modern scholars, have favored names like Orion, the Pleiades, the Scorpion, and the Great Bear (see Amos in the “International Critical Comment” series and G. Schiaparelli, Astronomy in the O.T., English translation, Oxford, 1905, ch. iv.). According to one of the Greek legends about Arcas, the son of Lycaon, king of Arcadia, he was killed by his father, and his flesh was served to Zeus at a banquet. Furious at the murder, Zeus brought him back to life. Later, while hunting, Arcas accidentally pursued his mother Callisto, who had been transformed into a bear, all the way to the temple of Lycaean Zeus. To prevent the act of matricide, Zeus took both of them to the heavens (Ovid, Metam. ii. 410), where Callisto became the constellation Ursa Major, and Arcas became the star Arcturus (see Lycaon and Callisto).


ARCUEIL, a town of northern France, in the department of Seine, on the Bièvre, 2½ m. N.E. of Sceaux on the railway from Paris to Limours. Pop. (1906) 8660. The town has an interesting church dating from the 13th to the 15th century. It takes its name from a Roman aqueduct, the Arcus Juliani (Arculi), some traces of which still remain. In 1613-1624 a bridge-aqueduct over 1300 ft. long was constructed to convey water from the spring of Rungis some 4 m. south of Arcueil, across the Bièvre to the Luxembourg palace in Paris. In 1868-1872 448 another aqueduct, still longer, was superimposed above that of the 17th century, forming part of the system conveying water from the river Vanne to Paris. The two together reach a height of about 135 ft. Bleaching, and the manufacture of bottle capsules, patent leather and other articles are carried on at Arcueil; and there are important stone quarries.

ARCUEIL, is a town in northern France, located in the Seine department, along the Bièvre river, 2½ miles northeast of Sceaux, on the train route from Paris to Limours. Population (1906) was 8,660. The town features an interesting church that dates back from the 13th to the 15th century. Its name comes from a Roman aqueduct, the Arcus Juliani (Arculi), of which some traces still exist. Between 1613 and 1624, a bridge-aqueduct over 1,300 feet long was built to transport water from the Rungis spring, located about 4 miles south of Arcueil, across the Bièvre river to the Luxembourg palace in Paris. From 1868 to 1872, 448 another aqueduct, which is even longer, was constructed above the 17th-century one to become part of the system delivering water from the Vanne river to Paris. Together, the two reach a height of about 135 feet. Arcueil produces goods like bleach, bottle capsules, patent leather, and other items, and it also has significant stone quarries.





        
        
    
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