<h3><SPAN name="chap_15"></SPAN>CHAPTER XV.</h3>
<h5>THE BUTTRESS.</h5>
<p><span class="scs">I.</span> <span class="sc">We</span> have hitherto supposed ourselves concerned with
the support of vertical pressure only; and the arch and roof
have been considered as forms of abstract strength, without
reference to the means by which their lateral pressure was to
be resisted. Few readers will need now to be reminded, that
every arch or gable not tied at its base by beams or bars,
exercises a lateral pressure upon the walls which sustain it,—pressure
which may, indeed, be met and sustained by increasing
the thickness of the wall or vertical piers, and which is in
reality thus met in most Italian buildings, but may, with less
expenditure of material, and with (perhaps) more graceful
effect, be met by some particular application of the provisions
against lateral pressure called Buttresses. These, therefore,
we are next to examine.</p>
<p><span class="scs">II.</span> Buttresses are of many kinds, according to the character
and direction of the lateral forces they are intended to
resist. But their first broad division is into buttresses which
meet and break the force before it arrives at the wall, and
buttresses which stand on the lee side of the wall, and prop it
against the force.</p>
<p>The lateral forces which walls have to sustain are of three
distinct kinds: dead weight, as of masonry or still water;
moving weight, as of wind or running water; and sudden concussion,
as of earthquakes, explosions, &c.</p>
<p>Clearly, dead weight can only be resisted by the buttress
acting as a prop; for a buttress on the side of, or towards the
weight, would only add to its effect. This, then, forms the
first great class of buttressed architecture; lateral thrusts, of
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page167"></SPAN>167</span>
roofing or arches, being met by props of masonry outside—the
thrust from within, the prop without; or the crushing
force of water on a ship’s side met by its cross timbers—the
thrust here from without the wall, the prop within.</p>
<p>Moving weight may, of course, be resisted by the prop on
the lee side of the wall, but is often more effectually met, on
the side which is attacked, by buttresses of peculiar forms,
cunning buttresses, which do not attempt to sustain the weight,
but <i>parry</i> it, and throw it off in directions clear of the wall.</p>
<p>Thirdly: concussions and vibratory motion, though in
reality only supported by the prop buttress, must be provided
for by buttresses on both sides of the wall, as their direction
cannot be foreseen, and is continually changing.</p>
<p>We shall briefly glance at these three systems of buttressing;
but the two latter being of small importance to our present
purpose, may as well be dismissed first.</p>
<p><span class="scs">III.</span> 1. Buttresses for guard against moving weight and
set towards the weight they resist.</p>
<p>The most familiar instance of this kind of buttress we have
in the sharp piers of a bridge, in the centre of a powerful
stream, which divide the current on their edges, and throw it
to each side under the arches. A ship’s bow is a buttress of
the same kind, and so also the ridge of a breastplate, both
adding to the strength of it in resisting a cross blow, and giving
a better chance of a bullet glancing aside. In Switzerland, projecting
buttresses of this kind are often built round churches,
heading up hill, to divide and throw off the avalanches. The
various forms given to piers and harbor quays, and to the bases
of light-houses, in order to meet the force of the waves, are all
conditions of this kind of buttress. But in works of ornamental
architecture such buttresses are of rare occurrence;
and I merely name them in order to mark their place in our
architectural system, since in the investigation of our present
subject we shall not meet with a single example of them,
unless sometimes the angle of the foundation of a palace set
against the sweep of the tide, or the wooden piers of some
canal bridge quivering in its current.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page168"></SPAN>168</span></p>
<p><span class="scs">IV.</span> 2. Buttresses for guard against vibratory motion.</p>
<p>The whole formation of this kind of buttress resolves itself
into mere expansion of the base of the wall, so as to make it
stand steadier, as a man stands with his feet apart when he is
likely to lose his balance. This approach to a pyramidal form
is also of great use as a guard against the action of artillery;
that if a stone or tier of stones be battered out of the lower
portions of the wall, the whole upper part may not topple over
or crumble down at once. Various forms of this buttress,
sometimes applied to particular points of the wall, sometimes
forming a great sloping rampart along its base, are frequent in
buildings of countries exposed to earthquake. They give a
peculiarly heavy outline to much of the architecture of the
kingdom of Naples, and they are of the form in which strength
and solidity are first naturally sought, in the slope of the
Egyptian wall. The base of Guy’s Tower at Warwick is a
singularly bold example of their military use; and so, in general,
bastion and rampart profiles, where, however, the object
of stability against a shock is complicated with that of sustaining
weight of earth in the rampart behind.</p>
<p><span class="scs">V.</span> 3. Prop buttresses against dead weight.</p>
<p>This is the group with which we have principally to do;
and a buttress of this kind acts in two ways, partly by its
weight and partly by its strength. It acts by its weight when
its mass is so great that the weight it sustains cannot stir it,
but is lost upon it, buried in it, and annihilated: neither the
shape of such a buttress nor the cohesion of its materials are
of much consequence; a heap of stones or sandbags, laid up
against the wall, will answer as well as a built and cemented
mass.</p>
<p>But a buttress acting by its strength is not of mass sufficient
to resist the weight by mere inertia; but it conveys the weight
through its body to something else which is so capable; as, for
instance, a man leaning against a door with his hands, and
propping himself against the ground, conveys the force which
would open or close the door against him through his body to
the ground. A buttress acting in this way must be of perfectly
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page169"></SPAN>169</span>
coherent materials, and so strong that though the weight
to be borne could easily move it, it cannot break it: this kind
of buttress may be called a conducting buttress. Practically,
however, the two modes of action are always in some sort
united. Again, the weight to be borne may either act generally
on the whole wall surface, or with excessive energy on
particular points: when it acts on the whole wall surface, the
whole wall is generally supported; and the arrangement becomes
a continuous rampart, as a dyke, or bank of reservoir.</p>
<p><span class="scs">VI.</span> It is, however, very seldom that lateral force in architecture
is equally distributed. In most cases the weight of
the roof, or the force of any lateral thrust, are more or less
confined to certain points and directions. In an early state of
architectural science this definiteness of direction is not yet
clear, and it is met by uncertain application of mass or
strength in the buttress, sometimes by mere thickening of the
wall into square piers, which are partly piers, partly buttresses,
as in Norman keeps and towers. But as science advances, the
weight to be borne is designedly and decisively thrown upon
certain points; the direction and degree of the forces which
are then received are exactly calculated, and met by conducting
buttresses of the smallest possible dimensions; themselves,
in their turn, supported by vertical buttresses acting by weight,
and these perhaps, in their turn, by another set of conducting
buttresses: so that, in the best examples of such arrangements,
the weight to be borne may be considered as the shock of an
electric fluid, which, by a hundred different rods and channels,
is divided and carried away into the ground.</p>
<p><span class="scs">VII.</span> In order to give greater weight to the vertical buttress
piers which sustain the conducting buttresses, they are
loaded with pinnacles, which, however, are, I believe, in all
the buildings in which they become very prominent, merely
decorative: they are of some use, indeed, by their weight;
but if this were all for which they were put there, a few cubic
feet of lead would much more securely answer the purpose,
without any danger from exposure to wind. If the reader
likes to ask any Gothic architect with whom he may happen
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page170"></SPAN>170</span>
to be acquainted, to substitute a lump of lead for his pinnacles,
he will see by the expression of his face how far he considers
the pinnacles decorative members. In the work which seems
to me the great type of simple and masculine buttress structure,
the apse of Beauvais, the pinnacles are altogether insignificant,
and are evidently added just as exclusively to entertain
the eye and lighten the aspect of the buttress, as the
slight shafts which are set on its angles; while in other very
noble Gothic buildings the pinnacles are introduced as niches
for statues, without any reference to construction at all: and
sometimes even, as in the tomb of Can Signoria at Verona, on
small piers detached from the main building.</p>
<p><span class="scs">VIII.</span> I believe, therefore, that the development of the pinnacle
is merely a part of the general erectness and picturesqueness
of northern work above alluded to: and that, if there had
been no other place for the pinnacles, the Gothic builders
would have put them on the tops of their arches (they often
<i>did</i> on the tops of gables and pediments), rather than not have
had them; but the natural position of the pinnacle is, of
course, where it adds to, rather than diminishes, the stability
of the building; that is to say, on its main wall piers and the
vertical piers at the buttresses. And thus the edifice is surrounded
at last by a complete company of detached piers and
pinnacles, each sustaining an inclined prop against the central
wall, and looking something like a band of giants holding it
up with the butts of their lances. This arrangement would
imply the loss of an enormous space of ground, but the intervals
of the buttresses are usually walled in below, and form
minor chapels.</p>
<table class="nobctr" style="clear: both; " summary="Illustration">
<tr>
<td class="caption1">Fig. XLII.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="figcenter">
<SPAN name="fig_42"><ANTIMG src="images/img171.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="178" alt="Fig. XLII." title="Fig. XLII." /></SPAN></td>
</tr>
</table>
<p><span class="scs">IX.</span> The science of this arrangement has made it the
subject of much enthusiastic declamation among the Gothic
architects, almost as unreasonable, in some respects, as the
declamation of the Renaissance architects respecting Greek
structure. The fact is, that the whole northern buttress system
is based on the grand requirement of tall windows and
vast masses of light at the end of the apse. In order to gain
this quantity of light, the piers between the windows are
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page171"></SPAN>171</span>
diminished in thickness until they are far too weak to bear the
roof, and then sustained by external buttresses. In the Italian
method the light is rather dreaded than desired, and the wall
is made wide enough between the windows to bear the roof,
and so left. In fact, the simplest expression of the difference
in the systems is, that a northern apse is a southern one with
its inter-fenestrial piers set edgeways. Thus, <i>a</i>, <SPAN href="#fig_42">Fig. XLII.</SPAN>, is
the general idea of the southern apse; take it to pieces, and
set all its piers edgeways, as at <i>b</i>, and you have the northern
one. You gain much light for the interior, but you cut the
exterior to pieces, and instead of a bold rounded or polygonal
surface, ready for any kind of decoration, you have a series
of dark and damp cells, which no device that I have yet
seen has succeeded in decorating in a perfectly satisfactory
manner. If the system be farther carried, and a second or
third order of buttresses be added, the real fact is that we
have a building standing on two or three rows of concentric
piers, with the <i>roof off</i> the whole of it except the central
circle, and only ribs left, to carry the weight of the bit of
remaining roof in the middle; and after the eye has been
accustomed to the bold and simple rounding of the Italian
apse, the skeleton character of the disposition is painfully felt.
After spending some months in Venice, I thought Bourges
Cathedral looked exactly like a half-built ship on its shores.
It is useless, however, to dispute respecting the merits of the
two systems: both are noble in their place; the Northern
decidedly the most scientific, or at least involving the greatest
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page172"></SPAN>172</span>
display of science, the Italian the calmest and purest, this
having in it the sublimity of a calm heaven or a windless noon,
the other that of a mountain flank tormented by the north
wind, and withering into grisly furrows of alternate chasm
and crag.</p>
<p><span class="scs">X.</span> If I have succeeded in making the reader understand
the veritable action of the buttress, he will have no difficulty
in determining its fittest form. He has to deal with two distinct
kinds; one, a narrow vertical pier, acting principally by
its weight, and crowned by a pinnacle; the other, commonly
called a Flying buttress, a cross bar set from such a pier (when
detached from the building) against the main wall. This
latter, then, is to be considered as a mere prop or shore, and its
use by the Gothic architects might be illustrated by the supposition
that we were to build all our houses with walls too thin
to stand without wooden props outside, and then to substitute
stone props for wooden ones. I have some doubts of the real
dignity of such a proceeding, but at all events the merit of the
form of the flying buttress depends on its faithfully and visibly
performing this somewhat humble office; it is, therefore, in its
purity, a mere sloping bar of stone, with an arch beneath it to
carry its weight, that is to say, to prevent the action of gravity
from in any wise deflecting it, or causing it to break downwards
under the lateral thrust; it is thus formed quite simple
in Notre Dame of Paris, and in the Cathedral of Beauvais,
while at Cologne the sloping bars are pierced with quatrefoils,
and at Amiens with traceried arches. Both seem to me effeminate
and false in principle; not, of course, that there is any
occasion to make the flying buttress heavy, if a light one will
answer the purpose; but it seems as if some security were
sacrificed to ornament. At Amiens the arrangement is now
seen to great disadvantage, for the early traceries have been
replaced by base flamboyant ones, utterly weak and despicable.
Of the degradations of the original form which took place in
after times, I have spoken at p. 35 of the “Seven Lamps.”</p>
<p><span class="scs">XI.</span> The form of the common buttress must be familiar to
the eye of every reader, sloping if low, and thrown into
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page173"></SPAN>173</span>
successive steps if they are to be carried to any considerable
height. There is much dignity in them when they are of
essential service; but even in their best examples, their awkward
angles are among the least manageable features of the
Northern Gothic, and the whole organisation of its system was
destroyed by their unnecessary and lavish application on a
diminished scale; until the buttress became actually confused
with the shaft, and we find strangely crystallised masses of
diminutive buttress applied, for merely vertical support, in the
northern tabernacle work; while in some recent copies of it
the principle has been so far distorted that the tiny buttressings
look as if they carried the superstructure on the points
of their pinnacles, as in the Cranmer memorial at Oxford.
Indeed, in most modern Gothic, the architects evidently consider
buttresses as convenient breaks of blank surface, and
general apologies for deadness of wall. They stand in the
place of ideas, and I think are supposed also to have something
of the odor of sanctity about them; otherwise, one hardly sees
why a warehouse seventy feet high should have nothing of the
kind, and a chapel, which one can just get into with one’s hat
off, should have a bunch of them at every corner; and worse
than this, they are even thought ornamental when they can be
of no possible use; and these stupid penthouse outlines are
forced upon the eye in every species of decoration: in St.
Margaret’s Chapel, West Street, there are actually a couple of
buttresses at the end of every pew.</p>
<p><span class="scs">XII.</span> It is almost impossible, in consequence of these unwise
repetitions of it, to contemplate the buttress without some
degree of prejudice; and I look upon it as one of the most
justifiable causes of the unfortunate aversion with which many
of our best architects regard the whole Gothic school. It
may, however, always be regarded with respect when its form
is simple and its service clear; but no treason to Gothic can be
greater than the use of it in indolence or vanity, to enhance
the intricacies of structure, or occupy the vacuities of design.</p>
<hr class="art" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page174"></SPAN>174</span></p>
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