The Stones of Venice

Ruskin states his intention of establishing objective principles for quality in architecture. First, he addresses the question, “What are the possible Virtues of architecture?” (29). He answers the question succinctly that “two kinds of goodness” (29) are expected from a building, corresponding to functionality and beauty. Functionality itself branches out into two duties: “acting” well (i.e., performing the basic functions of a building, such as protection and shelter) and “speaking” well (i.e., the ability of the architecture to communicate an appropriate message and produce an emotional effect).

Ruskin sums up the three principles of “architectural virtue”: acting well, speaking well, and looking good or producing aesthetic pleasure. Regarding the last point, Ruskin specifies that “we take pleasure […] in architectural construction altogether as the manifestation of an admirable human intelligence” (31) rather than because the building can be considered in some sense a “perfect” creation.

Good buildings, in fact, communicate both something of the intelligence and something of the “affections” (emotions) of the architect. This means that the architect’s choices must reflect “strong liking” and not be taken merely out of a sense of duty. Ruskin sees this as a major failing of modern architecture compared with the architecture of the past. We should like most of all the forms of nature, or “God’s work.” Hence, Ruskin states another major principle: “All noble ornamentation is the expression of man’s delight in God’s work” (37, emphasis added).

Ruskin hopes that his book will enable the reader to decide what they like in architecture and, hence, to form good judgments about it, but also to make sure that they “like the right thing” (37) by distinguishing between good and poor architecture. Thus, Ruskin’s book will perform two functions: describing how buildings are made and providing the reader with criterions for aesthetic judgment.

There are two basic types of building, defined by function: architecture of protection and architecture of position. Architecture of protection provides shelter from the elements or from violence, while architecture of position is intended to carry people or things someplace or hold them there.

Protective architecture consists of walls, roofs, and apertures. Ruskin will consider all these elements more closely in subsequent chapters.

A wall is “an even and united fence of wood, earth, stone or metal” (45) and consists of three parts: foundation, body, and cornice. The foundation is like a “foot” or “table” upon which the wall stands. The body (or veil) of the wall is the main part of the wall and is often “strengthened by piers or buttresses” (46). The cornice (or coping) is the top of the wall, which provides protection from the weather and is able to withstand weight.

The base is sometimes built below the ground, but sometimes is a “vast tableland” visible above ground. Above this (in the case of a stone building), stones are layered in sizes and tiered appropriately to stand firm and provide a solid foundation for the body of the wall, taking many and varied forms in different buildings.

Ruskin uses a piece of natural “architecture”—the Matterhorn in the Alps—to illustrate the principle of the wall veil or body, and in particular of its “possible stability of precipitousness attained with materials of imperfect and variable character” (52). From the Matterhorn Ruskin draws the conclusion that a wall may be strengthened by alternating the main material—e.g., brick—with “carefully laid courses of stone” (52) instead of merely by adding to its thickness with more of the main material.

From this Ruskin draws a further principle that builders should not show off their technique: “Nothing is more contemptible in any work than an appearance of the slightest desire on the part of the builder to direct attention to the way its stones are put together” (53). The mason must instead “avoid all affectation and all unnecessary expense, either in showing or concealing” (53).

Ruskin examines various types of cornices and how the precise shape and curve of a cornice can allow it to protect the wall from the elements as well as protect the integrity of the wall. At the end of the chapter, Ruskin introduces the concept of the capital, or cornice of a column.

An arch is a connection between two shafts or columns that make up a building. It is constructed so as to be stable in itself and to support the shafts which it connects. The main arch types are the lintel, the gable, and the arch proper.

Arches are defined by the arch line—the arch’s precise curve. The curve has to be so conceived by the architect that it will be able to resist forces pushing on it from either side; thus, the arch line is sometimes called the “line of resistance” and even the arch’s “moral character.”

There are two parts to a roof: a shell, visible in the interior of the building, and an upper structure that supports it and protects it from the weather. The steeply peaked roof became particularly favored in northern European countries because it was effective at repelling the heavy rain and snow typical of the northern climate. When roofs become very elaborate, it is necessary to support the walls with buttresses.

Buttresses are of two kinds: those which “meet and break the force before it arrives at the wall” (83) and those which prop the wall against the force. There are, in turn, three types of lateral forces which buttresses have to sustain: dead weight (e.g., still water), moving weight (e.g., wind or running water), and sudden concussion (e.g., an earthquake or explosion). Ruskin argues that buttresses should always be functional and not exist for the sake of vanity or display.

Ruskin begins by summarizing what the reader has learned so far about the basic elements of a building, asserting that this knowledge will allow the reader to form a judgment about the goodness of a work of architecture. Ruskin cautions that the great diversity of types of building means that one cannot reduce architecture to lists of rules. Still, he intends in this chapter to discuss the rules governing the superimposition of tiers of architecture, thus achieving height in a building.

Correct superimposition consists of placing weight on lightness or lightness on weight. Buildings can have a “passive” or an “active” aspect, and every support should be adequate to the needs of the situation. For instance, a dome does not need strong support because it must appear as if it is floating on air. Similarly, a tower is a type of building that must stand “in [its] own strength” (96) without visible buttresses and support. Ruskin claims that many modern buildings show a faulty sense of proper support.

Ruskin now discusses a part of architecture that is not related to the essential structure of a building, namely sculpted ornament or decoration. He emphasizes that this branch of architecture is closely connected with personal aesthetic taste. Ruskin repeats his earlier-stated claim that the proper object of our liking—and therefore the subject of ornamentation—should be “God’s work,” i.e., forms from nature. The best architectural ornamentation is that which imitates or depicts natural motifs instead of manmade objects.

Ruskin organizes the natural motifs depicted in architectural decoration into twelve categories and discusses the virtues and possibilities of each:

1. Abstract lines
2. Forms of Earth (crystals)
3. Forms of water (waves)
4. Forms of fire (flames and rays)
5. Forms of air (clouds)
6. Organic forms (shells)
7. Fish
8. Reptiles and insects
9. Vegetation: stems and trunks
10. Vegetation: foliage
11. Birds
12. Mammalian animals and man

Now Ruskin discusses how an architect might treat the natural motifs outlined in the previous chapter. This question falls into two branches: how to express and how to arrange. Indeed, the architect must consider not only whether a piece of sculpture is beautiful in itself, but how it may best find its place within the context of the building as a whole. This includes questions of perspective, in which the size of sculptures must be calibrated to their distance and placement in relation to the viewer. Ruskin believes that ornament must always be essential and never superfluous, and that an architect must use it with moderation and control.

In the final part of the chapter, the subject changes decisively as Ruskin poetically invites the reader to travel with him in a gondola down the Brenta river to Venice. This effectively sets up Book Two, which will describe Venice’s history and architecture.