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Parthenon, Athens " 15

Curvature of Stylobate of Parthenon " 24

Erechtheum, Athens " 36

Details of Entablature, Acropolis, Athens " 38

Corner Capital, Acropolis, Athens " 38

The Pantheon, Rome " 48

Ruins of Temple of Mars Ultor, Rome " 49

Arch of Trajan, at Benevento, Southern Italy " 55

Ancient City Gates of Gerasa " 60

Church of St. Martin at Cologne, Rhenish Prussia " 77

Church of S. Theodore, Athens " 89

Cathedral at Reims France, Choir Aisle, Different View " 99

XL. Outer Porch, Albi , France " 127

Palazzo Riccardi, Florence " 138

L. Ch?teau at Blois , France " 148

Wollaton Hall, Notts, England " 149

Ducal Palace, Genoa, Italy " 153

Palazzo Madama, Turin, Italy " 172

Gateway Building , Munich " 173

Exterior of Church of St. George, Doncaster " 190

How to Judge Architecture

EARLY GREEK DESIGN

In trying to train the mind to judge of works of architecture, one can never be too patient. It is very easy to hinder one's growth in knowledge by being too ready to decide. The student of art who is much under the influence of one teacher, one writer, or one body of fellow-students, is hampered by that influence just so far as it is exclusive. And most teachers, most writers, most groups or classes of students are exclusive, admiring one set of principles or the practice of one epoch, to the partial exclusion of others.

The reader must feel assured that there are no authorities at all in the matter of architectural appreciation: and that the only opinions, or impressions, or comparative appreciations that are worth anything to him are those which he will form gradually for himself. He will form them slowly, if he be wise: indeed, if he have the gift of artistic appreciation at all, he will soon learn to form them slowly. He will, moreover, hold them lightly even when formed; remembering that in a subject on which opinions differ so very widely at any one time, and have differed so much more widely if one epoch be compared with another, there can be no such thing as a final judgment.

The object of this book is to help the reader to acquire, little by little, such an independent knowledge of the essential characteristics of good buildings, and also such a sense of the possible differences of opinion concerning inessentials, that he will always enjoy the sight, the memory, or the study of a noble structure without undue anxiety as to whether he is right or wrong. Rightness is relative: to have a trained observation, knowledge of principles, and a sound judgment as to proprieties of construction and design is to be able to form your opinions for yourself; and to understand that you come nearer, month by month, to a really complete knowledge of the subject, seeing clearly what is good and the causes of its goodness, and also the not-so-good which is there, inevitably there, as a part of the goodness itself.

It will be well, therefore, to take for our first study some buildings of that class about which there is the smallest difference of opinion among modern lovers of art, namely, the early Greek temples. There is no serious dispute as to the standing of the Greek architecture previous to the year 300 B. C., as the most perfect thing that decorative art has produced. It is extremely simple: a fact which makes it the more fit for our present purpose: but this simplicity is to be taken as not having led to bareness, lack of incident, lack of charm: it has merely served to give the Greek artist such an easy control over the different details and their organization into a complete whole, that the admiration of all subsequent ages has been given to his productions.

and from the northeast. This building by common agreement of modern students was the most perfect in design and the most highly elaborated in detail of all the Doric temples of early time. The Parthenon as we see it now in its decay, dominating the town of Athens from the top of its rock or looked at close at hand, lighted by the Grecian sun or by the moon for those who are romantically inclined, is unquestionably a most picturesque and charming ruin; it is imposing in its mass, interesting still in its details, and invested, of course, with an immeasurably great tradition, historical and poetic. That fact must not be forgotten for a moment: but, on the other hand, it must not be forgotten that this admiration, this enthusiasm, is not given to the work of art. It is not at all to produce such a ruin as we now see that the Grecian artist thought and toiled. Admire the ruin to your heart's content: but be careful that you do not allow too much of this romantic association to enter into your love of the artistic entity, of the lost Parthenon, which we have to create out of the air, as it were. And beware of the admiration of ruins as you would of the "tone" given to a picture by time: it is not that which the artist proposed to himself or even thought of, and it is the artist's purpose that you must ask for, always. That is the first thing. Until you are sure you know that purpose, fully, it will not do to find fault with the work of art, or even to praise it too unreservedly.

Another feature in this remarkable design is to be traced in the ruins, and was much more plainly discoverable at an earlier, though still recorded and well-known, date: namely, the original painted adornment of the building, in strong primary colors. In the temples built of soft and rough stone, like that in Plate I, there is known to have been a thin coat of fine plastering spread over the whole surface, and the final delicacy of curve and sharpness of edge must have been wrought in that plaster even more accurately than in the stone beneath. But in the Parthenon, built entirely of fine-grained and hard marble, no such coating was necessary, and the paint was applied directly to the crystalline surface itself. This painting covered very large parts of the exterior, nor is it probable that any single foot of the

marble was left in its original whiteness. Where the solid coating of red or blue paint was not applied, the marble seems to have been tinted a dull yellow, as by the application of wax to the surface, which wax, if melted on with hot irons, would act as a preservative for the marble. It appears then that all modern dreams about the whiteness and purity and abstract loveliness of the Grecian temples are mistaken. Browning's Artemis says that, always excepting Hera, she is the equal of any goddess of them all--

There is still to be considered the sculptured ornament, painted, indeed, in vivid colors, but also planned with care, and executed with vast knowledge, minute skill, and what seems to us faultless good taste. In the Doric temples there was no leaf-sculpture, no scroll-work, no carved ornaments of any sort: we shall find a different condition of things in the Ionic style, but even in the elaborate and very costly Parthenon there were only the human and animal forms, expressed in statues and reliefs made as perfect as was possible to the artist of the time. Some temples had none of this: others had the metopes of the frieze carved with high reliefs: others had reliefs in the great triangular panel of the pediment: others again had this panel filled with statues, standing and seated, forming a group, and expressing some legend of Greek historical and religious life. Finally, there are instances of long unbroken bands of sculpture in very low relief. The Parthenon had all of these: a horizontal band along the top of each wall of the naos filled with bas-reliefs; high reliefs in the metopes, statues in both pediments.

There is still one point of view from which the Greek temples must be regarded. It is to many persons the most important consideration of all. Those who are realists in architecture are always inclined to favor the utilitarian plan and the logical structure and to hold these as of even greater value than the abstract proportion or the beauty of detail. On the other hand, writers like Ruskin never suggest the importance of the destination of the edifice, nor its merit as a piece of intelligent building: nor do the students of proportion, as in Neo-classic buildings, think much of this matter. In the case of the Greek temples this practical consideration can be stated in a very few words. No large roofed hall was ever desired; no interior effect, as of a great vaulted room, was thought of; no room for a congregation or an audience within the solid walls was ever proposed. The naos of the temple served only to house the great image of the Divinity with other minor statues of the same or of kindred significance together with the gifts presented to the shrine. The people gathered in front of the great portico; public sacrifices were performed there; the temple itself, like the choir of a Christian church long afterwards, was for the priests alone. Moreover, the buildings of different character left us by the Greeks, even in ruins, are so very few that we are unable to establish with certainty their character; and those which, like the famous Meeting-hall at Eleusis, must have accommodated a number of persons seated to listen to the words of speakers, were obviously of extreme simplicity--involving no new principles of plan or of design. Next, as to the construction: that as the photographs show, was of the simplest possible character. Uprights of stone carried horizontal beams of stone, and these again cross-beams to span the width of the portico, which cross-beams might be of stone, or of wood encased perhaps with terra cotta slabs. As for the interior of the naos, in the larger temples it was divided into a wider middle hall and two narrower ones, like the nave and aisles of Christian churches: and all roofed with timber, in simple framing, which carried a roofing of tile: but whether the roof was always complete and solid, or whether, as some persons think, a part of this was often omitted so as to allow the light of day to enter from above, is uncertain.

It appears then that, as suggested in the first page of this chapter, the requirements and the structure of the Grecian religious building were so very simple that no long examination into the matter is needed to show the connection between the plan and the exterior effect, or between the structure and the exterior effect. We have no Greek interiors to study and the exteriors at once tell us how the whole structure was brought into being, and also that it could not fail to serve its daily uses in a very perfect manner.

LATER GREEK AND ROMAN DESIGN

In chapter one there was discussion of the simplest Greek architecture--that which we call Doric--which reached its culminating point about 450 B. C. Considering now, very briefly, the later and more elaborate Greek buildings we find that they were more generally of the Ionic style, that the most important of them were built along the Asiatic coast by the Greek colonists there, and finally, that not one of the larger monuments remains in any such condition that it can be seen even as an attractive ruin. The only important Ionic building which we can find impressive, as it stands, is the Erectheion at Athens, and this, though a very small building, is admitted to contain the most exquisite details of the Ionic style which are known to us. Plate V gives two views of the Erectheion in its present condition, and Plate VI gives the small portico of caryatides on the south flank of the same building. The views given here shows the curious and entirely unexampled relation of these different parts to one another. The full significance of this combination of small apartments is not understood.

conventionalized leafage, independently designed curvatures and broken lines, and the play of surface given by slight reliefs alternating continually with smooth flat planes, are all introduced. If, farther, we look back to Plate VI and note the treatment of that splendid "Portico of the Maidens," we shall see what Greek thought was capable of in the way of architectural sculpture. Now there is no difference of opinion about the beauty of the simple patterns, the anthemions, the egg-and-dart mouldings, and the like; but the very greatest difference of opinion exists with regard to the essential propriety of human figures used as architectural members of such great importance as these, and especially when used as supports for a superincumbent weight. The author of this volume admires this portico as, on the whole, the finest thing left us by Greek architectural art, combining as it does the exquisite design and faultless modelling of each separate figure, the successful combining into a group of the four maidens of the front, or of the whole six, with their superincumbent weight of marble, and the exquisite management of the whole structure so that it shall seem light and yet solid, fanciful and yet dignified, graceful and yet enduringly noble. Viollet-le-Duc has pointed out how successfully the figures are posed and grouped to express their constructional function. There are excellent judges who think differently and who would fain ignore the Pandrosion, as it is sometimes called, or relegate it to the position of a mistake made by that race of artists who were of all races the least likely to make mistakes. In this

connection it may be noted that the buildings of the Ionic style offer other and very curious exceptions to the more usual treatment of sculpture when applied to buildings. Thus in the Erectheion itself, the principal frieze was of dark gray marble in smooth slabs, upon which were fixed figures in white marble in vigorous action, the scale small, and the whole composition much more nearly pictorial than anything in the Parthenon. Again, in the balustrade built about the little temple of Victory on the edge of the cliff at the west of the Acropolis, reliefs of moderate projection are treated with singular vivacity: draped goddesses in active and easily understood movement.

There is also in Greek architecture the beginning of the Corinthian style, of which the best example known to moderns is the totally ruined Tholos near Epidauros in the Morea, and the most familiar, that little monument in Athens, called the Choragic Monument of Lysicrates: but for this style we must refer to the Roman buildings in which it reached its highest development.

In the later chapters of this little book there will be found frequent reference to this professional or technical view of pure Greek architecture. Still, what has been thought about it since its discovery in the eighteenth century, is of less importance to our inquiry than the similar assumptions with regard to the architecture of Imperial Rome; for that architecture influenced the peoples of Europe at all times during the Middle Ages, and more especially at the important periods of revival or of change in the fifth, the eleventh, and the fifteenth centuries.

The early architecture of Rome, that is of the city and its neighborhood, is not under consideration; it is very little known even to modern archaeologists, and it was not known at all to the people of the Risorgimento or their successors, upon whose work the modern traditions and feeling about architecture have been based. The buildings which directly influenced the world of the Middle Ages, and then that later world of the fifteenth century, the time of Italian imitation of antiquity, were those of the early Emperors. There was, as has been discovered within the last quarter of a century, a special art introduced in the reign of Augustus, a beautiful art made up of sculpture not exclusively Greek in character; and, in its architectural form, of an enlarged and more decorative handling of the Greek system of design. In both of these innovations some loss in refinement comes with the gain in splendor and in utility: but we can see this Augustan architecture to have been a splendid decorative art. It is also true that somewhat more of it than we now see remained in place, and nearly complete, in the fifteenth century. The great buildings which partly remain to us from the Imperial epoch are generally later than the time of Augustus. The famous Pantheon , as we now have it, with its huge rotunda, dates from the time of Hadrian : the magnificent Forum of Trajan with its accessories, a group of buildings inconceivably vast and splendid, was completed during the same administration of Hadrian. The best preserved Roman memorial arch, which is also fortunately very rich in sculpture, that of Benevento in South Italy, was also built after Trajan's death and in the time of Hadrian: the best preserved buildings of Palmyra and of the North-African cities are of the time of the Antonines, those of Heliopolis of the same epoch and later. The temples on the old Forum--the Forum Romanum as distinguished from the later or imperial Fora--were restored and altered many times before the final collapse of the imperial power in Rome: the temple of Castor, apparently under Tiberius , the temple of Saturn, with the State treasury in its basement, perhaps not later than the time of Augustus , the temple of Vespasian, much rebuilt, under Severus and Caracalla, at the beginning of the third century, A. D. The buildings named as being in Rome itself, together with the Temple of Antoninus Pius, that of Mars the Avenger in the Forum of

Augustus, the enclosing wall of the Forum of Nerva, and other fragments now wholly destroyed, were the pieces of architectural art which most especially influenced the studies of the men of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Plate X gives what now remains of the Temple of Castor, and also what remains of the Temple of Mars; but as late as the sixteenth century there was much more to be seen and studied about these ruins. The building behind the Temple of Castor in the Forum, now entirely stripped of its architectural decorations, retained its interior order of marble columns until the sixteenth century, and this building also was of great importance to the earlier restorers of antique art: it is thought by modern archaeologists to have been the Temple of Augustus, which is known to have existed in this neighborhood.

The buildings named above were generally columnar in character. The memorial arch and the Pantheon are the only two of them which were certainly vaulted structures. Now, the memorial arch required only one or three simple barrel vaults, and the example of the Etruscans must have made such work as that familiar to the people of Rome, but the Pantheon is a very different thing. This, as rebuilt under Hadrian, with the rotunda which we know, must have been one of the earliest Roman buildings in solid mortar-masonry. Its walls are very thick, faced on both sides with brick, but built actually of small stones laid in strong mortar, and it is roofed with extremely massive vaulting of the same materials. Other such buildings of which large parts exist are, in the city of Rome itself, the great Halls of the Thermae of Caracalla ; those of the Thermae of Diocletian, built a century later, and that of the basilica of Maxentius and Constantine on the north side of the Forum Romanum, built between 312 and about 330 A. D. In these buildings a vaulting as massive as that of the Pantheon but of wholly different shape was used. The Pantheon, a circular building, is roofed by a circular cupola which is kept in place by a ponderous superstructure carried up from the haunches of the vault, so that the thrust of the cupola could not, however great it might be, affect the stability of the structure. In the great halls of the Thermae and the basilica above named, the conditions are very different, for the groined-vaulting of these halls would, if built under ordinary conditions, exert a formidable pressure outward upon all its points of support. In these Roman examples, however, there were two influences at work to save the buildings from possible injury: the skillful disposition of walls and piers to take up or absorb the thrust from each point of support, and the fact that these vaults were built in such a fashion, with horizontal beds of stone laid in strong cement mortar, that there could not be much thrust when once the mortar was dry and the vault consolidated. The vault could not thrust outward without breaking: and it was too homogeneous to break. Buildings whose actual construction was carried out in this fashion exist throughout those Mediterranean lands which once were included in the great empire. This system of building gave the world those great permanent interiors which were the first in the world's history to be of architectural importance. Egyptians, Babylonians, Assyrians, Greeks, both those of Greece and those of the Colonies--none of these great building nations had ever conceived of interiors prepared and designed for their own sake, and as the chief part of the building. The Assyrian kings in their palaces came nearer to understanding the possible effectiveness of the interior: but even they were satisfied with long and narrow halls shaped like what we call corridors. It was left for the Romans at once to develop their system of vaulting and at the same time to improve the construction of their roofs of wood and metal, so that halls fifty feet, sixty feet, even eighty feet wide, could be built with roofs of effective and beautiful form high above the floor. Under these conditions the most splendid possible interior effects were producible. Such vast columned interiors as that of the Ulpian basilica and that of the Septa Julia must have given an effect of stately grace absolutely unknown to the modern world; the true evolution of Greek art in one direction was assuredly to be found there. On the other hand the imperial dwellings on the Palatine Hill in Rome with their numerous vaulted halls, the temples of pure Roman design, like that of Venus and that of the City of Rome, built back to back, near the Colosseum, and the great halls of the basilicas and baths, as above suggested, were capable of being adorned in a permanent and strictly architectural way as none of the buildings of earlier races had been. The basilica of Maxentius had its middle division, its nave, about eighty-three feet wide and roofed with a groined vault, although the span of that vault is less than this, about seventy-eight feet, because carried by immense columns which stand free of the wall on either side. This great hall was one hundred and twenty-five feet high to the top of the vault: and it was flanked on either side by an aisle made up of three rooms, each about fifty-three feet square, opening into the central hall; and the barrel-vaults even of these six minor divisions rose eighty feet from the pavement. This building dates from the declining days of the Empire and of classical civilization, when sculpture had already become a feeble and barbarous thing, without character, and when what we consider the Byzantine feeling in matters of decoration had already obtained the mastery throughout the greater part of the Roman world. The strong hold which the system of building had upon the engineers of the empire can be judged from this fact.

Mile upon mile of colonnades, as Greek in taste as the later age would allow, enclosed and led up to superb interiors of a dignity and magnificence immeasurably beyond anything conceived by the Greeks. This is the Roman signet, as it were, the stamp which the great Empire put upon the world.

EARLY MEDIAEVAL DESIGN

The unequalled grandeur of the Empire as it endured from 50 B. C. to about 350 A. D. is most strongly felt when we think of the Pax Romana--that Roman peace which forbade armed conflicts in the Mediterranean lands in which war had been the rule. To this Peace an altar was erected in Rome by the orders of Augustus. From the Caspian Sea to the Atlantic, and from the shores of the Baltic to the Atlas Mountains a consecutive and orderly government was maintained, fully as beneficent as has ever prevailed in any single nation of the earth, except in very recent years in Western Europe, and immeasurably superior to what has existed in those same regions, taken together during the past dozen centuries. One curiously complete difference existed, however, between the west and east halves of the Empire. In the West, Roman domination brought with it a civilization so superior to that known in those lands before the conquest that Gaul and Iberian must have looked upon the Italian domination as synonymous with all that makes for enlightenment and intellectual advance as well as good order. On the other hand, the peoples of the Balkan Peninsula, Asia Minor, and Syria, must have felt that in yielding to the Italian power they were yielding to a force, which, however beneficial politically, represented a lower intellectual civilization than their own. The business of the Empire was, as we now see it, to develop and hand on to the future, Hellenic civilization. The first dawn of this extended Hellenism must have been to the West a clear intellectual gain: but in the East it was not noticeable. The holders of Greek traditions may have enjoyed the apparent willingness of the conquerors to defer to the mental and moral superiority of the conquered: but they could not have bowed to Rome as the one civilizer known, as did the people of the west of Europe. And so it was that the people of the East took one view of the architectural problem when the Imperial system had fallen, while the Gallo-Romans, Britons and Spaniards took quite another view, which they impressed at once upon their Frankish, Visigothic and Saxon conquerors. The Roman builders left two great traditions, the adornment of the building, the open square, the city with combinations of Greek-seeming colonnades; and the huge interior, arranged for interior effect, vaulted when practicable, flat roofed with massive trabeated construction when the light and open character of the building, as of a huge portico, invited a pure Greek manner of design. The first-named of these traditions was destined not to be very boldly or very generally followed until after the Middle Ages. The other prevailed at once: the needs of the Christian church were served by it; and the Westerners followed it in one way, the Easterners in a very different way. The people of Italy, Gaul, Spain, Germany and Britain developed Romanesque architecture, the people of the Eastern Empire--which held together for centuries the Greeks, Albanians, Macedonians, Syrians, Phrygians--created Byzantine architecture. The Romanesque is not ill-named: it is indeed quasi-Roman, Roman as near as the poor and scattered communities could make it. The Byzantine is a mixture of Persian and Roman habits and rules, and is the very finest thing that ever came out of such an almost conscious mixing of diverse element. It could not have been created but for the Roman Peace, which still held sway over the Eastern seas and lands after Italy and the West had gone back to pristine barbarism: but under that domination it spread all over the Balkan Peninsula with Greece, over southern and western Italy and Sicily, Syria, Egypt, and the coast regions of Asia Minor.

Now it so happens that both of these great styles were superseded in their turn by other and very vigorous styles: by the Gothic in Europe and the Saracen or Mohammedan in Asia: and therefore it is that we have only churches, and not many of them, from which to judge Romanesque and Byzantine architecture. At least, however, these are erect and complete, not too much altered, roofed and floored as of old, with window-openings and doorways, porches and apses in working order. It is with the present chapter, then, that we begin to study buildings which we can see complete. And, after all, the church was much the most important structure of the time. Here and there a ruined palace, like Barbarossa's at Gelnhausen and the Hebdomon at Constantinople, makes us regret what we have lost: but these also prove the truth of our assumption that it was the Church Building in which was determined the growth of architecture. Indeed that was to be the march of events until the fifteenth century: only then did the residence and the house of state come to the front.

outside chapels and sacristies of later time, a simple parallelogram about two hundred and fifty feet long and fifty feet wide, which width is divided into a broad nave and two much narrower aisles. And therefore a single glance reveals the whole structural character and the whole architectural design of the church. Three parallel halls divided by two rows of columns; the central hall rising much higher than the roofs on either side, and showing, therefore, a broad space of wall towards the interior; and, towards the exterior, a wall less high by the vertical height of the aisle-roof. This great wall surface will be certain to have windows in it, because that is the obvious way of lighting the nave: then the roofs either finished within by a flat ceiling, as in the present instance, or showing the timbers of the roof, with only such decoration as color and a little very simple carving may supply. This type of building endured through the whole epoch of what we call the Middle Ages, and has never been wholly abandoned since. Our larger churches are close studies of it.

It is evident that the admiration which we give to even the most important of these churches is a different thing from that which the great monuments of antiquity compel. The construction of the mediaeval churches is as complex as that of the greatest Roman monuments; this coming from a necessity of providing interiors relatively larger than those of the Roman imperial epoch. The builders even of the twelfth century, and even in the most nearly well governed countries of Europe, had but limited resources. No king, no great noble controlling a province, no bishop, no convent, however rich, could dispose of resources for one instant comparable to those of a Roman pro-consul in even a small town of the empire. The mediaeval men had to get as much building as they could for their money. If they built their walls thick, as they seem to the modern traveller, this was because they were unable to get good masons. A stone wall may be carried up forty feet high with a thickness of only three feet, even when pierced with windows, if you have good workmen in your employ and fairly good

flat-bedded stone with tolerable mortar; but as your material is the worse and as your masons are the more unskilled, you have to build the thicker. Indeed the history of Romanesque architecture is that of a long-continued fight between the problem and the would-be solvers thereof. It was desirable to roof with masonry, partly as a safeguard when, as often happened, the wooden structure of the high roof above the walls caught fire and was destroyed, and also because of the comparative stateliness of effect, and because each bishop thought of building not for his own brief time only, but for his successors. And this very requirement, that each part of the building should be closed at the top with masonry, kept the builders of Western Europe busy from the time of Clovis on. The history of any one great church is a record of continual failure of walls, foundations or abutments; some part of the vaulting is forever crumbling and threatening to fall so that it has to be rebuilt; and now and then there's a crash and a catastrophe. The buttresses have to be enlarged; iron ties have to be inserted; even the plan of the vaulting has to be changed every now and then and a new experiment tried with a view to its greater permanence in another style of work. Hence it is that the modern student of such buildings has at once that delight in them which comes from their very archaism mingled with a kind of deprecatory pity: we sympathize with their builders' aims and regret their feeble resources and their small knowledge: we love their buildings as we love the stammering speech of childhood. There is something else, no doubt: such a splendid tower-group as that at Tournai, such a noble interior as that of Mayence cathedral , are individually, and as works of art, powerful enough to command our sincere admiration: but these are the exceptions.

sides to minor divisions, aisles, porches, and apses. See page 86. This great hall might be covered by a cupola, or, as often is found in the smaller churches, its vertical walls are carried up into a drum or round tower roofed in any one of several ways. The essence of the distinction between this plan and the Western plan is the absence of the "long drawn aisle"; and the arrangement of the whole around a central point from which the structures of the church may be said to radiate. There were, as has been said, straight-lined churches in the East: and in like manner there were radiating buildings in the West, notably, the round churches of San Stefano in Rome and the cathedral at Aix-la-Chapelle, St. Gereon at Cologne, and the rather numerous baptisteries, as at Florence, Parma, Ravenna and Pisa, which in their original state of being, were not baptisteries only, but became so after the basilica churches with nave and aisle had been built in the same towns for the cathedrals proper. Still, in connection with our immediate question, that of

the artistic appreciation of a building of any epoch, it is better to study round or radiating buildings in their own home of the Eastern provinces, as we study the basilica-shaped buildings in Western Europe.

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