Chapter II
., as deduced by him from his original studies in Italy, except so far as these were modified by the powerful though indirect influence of the Gothic revival. This did not arise from any deficiency in power of originating novelty. There were few cases in which ideas were not conceived, and designs made, embodying more unusual forms and details than those finally adopted. Nor does it appear to have been due to his adoption of a formally defined system of principles--a kind of confession of architectural faith. It may be doubted whether he himself could have given an analysis of his own principles of design, as clear and as precise as that which has been given by others. Perhaps few men, who have much originative power in art, have also the power of such scientific analysis. He himself would constantly adopt what he conceived to be new “first principles,” and for a time mould every line of a design in obedience to their dictates.
But yet in almost every case he reverted eventually to his original principles. If the comparison of the old with the new was fatal to the latter, in respect of beauty or convenience, he was not the man to seek apparent originality at the cost of real excellence. The temptation to depart from the old methods, and the study of the methods by which such departure could be made, only tended to confirm them in his mind, and to show (what most practical men sooner or later discover in all provinces of thought) that the prevalence of old forms is generally due, not to arbitrary and pedantic convention, but to their inherent truth and vigour.
It maybe added that, in his Italian work especially, harmony and completeness seem to have been the great objects of endeavour. Repose, rather than what artists call “movement,” was the characteristic of his designs. Whether successfully or unsuccessfully, he laboured principally to realize the conception of the whole, as having unity and perfect interdependence in its parts, and was not compensated, in his own works or those of others, for any violation of this unity, even by individual features of startling and original excellence.[56] A consequence of this feeling was that special attention to refinement and elegance of detail, which has been noticed by most critics of his works. He felt strongly that, when detail, however bold or beautiful in itself, attracts an undue share of attention, and brings into prominence what should properly be subordinate, an error in taste is committed, proportionate to the vividness of the impression produced. Another consequence was the paramount importance which he attached to beauty of proportion as compared with richness or originality of decoration. He was fond of pointing out in Sir C. Wren’s western towers of Westminster Abbey how this beauty of proportion seemed all but to annihilate the painful impression, produced by the badness of the details. In his own designs he would take the greatest pains, would sponge out and redraw a whole elevation, if he detected in its leading lines any defect in this his crowning virtue.
It is evident that this principle may assume so tyrannical an influence as to extinguish originality, and tone down a whole design to respectable and consistent tameness. But it cannot be denied that it is a principle of paramount value, and few will question that it is largely manifested in his existing works. Not indeed that he allowed this desire of unity and stateliness of design, or his determination to make even the least work a real work of Art, to interfere with the thought of practical convenience, especially as regards the requirements of English climate and modern life. His Italian architecture was therefore singularly free from artistic pedantry; it was no artificial exotic, but a style thoroughly naturalized, and therefore one having an inherent principle of vigour and life. On it his architectural fame must still in great measure rest.
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