The Stones of Venice

“In the main, we require from buildings, as from men, two kinds of goodness: first, the doing their practical duty well: then that they be graceful and pleasing in doing it; which last is itself another form of duty.”

This passage is a statement of Ruskin’s aesthetic principles for architecture, coming early in the “practical” part of the book. The principles themselves consist in a practical part and an aesthetic part, but Ruskin emphasizes that even aesthetic beauty fulfills a “duty” or necessary practical function.

“Humanity and immortality consist neither in reason, nor in love; not in the body, nor in the animation of the heart of it, nor in the thoughts and stirrings of the brain of it,—but in the dedication of them all to Him who will raise them up at the last day.”

A strong spiritual dimension informs Ruskin’s aesthetics of architecture, reflecting his claim of Architecture as Reflecting Nature and Creation when it is at its best. Ruskin arrives at this discussion when considering the place of intellect in art and architecture. He concludes that what makes humanity truly human is not any individual faculty but rather the act of a human being submitting their entire being up to God (“all to Him who will raise them up at the last day”). Thus, for Ruskin, architecture should have a religious dimension in which the artist dedicates his work to spiritual principles, not human glory.

“So, then, the first thing we have to ask of the decoration is that it should indicate strong liking, and that honestly.”

Ruskin here emphasizes the need to find enjoyment in architecture and for the builder to base his choices on genuine preference, as opposed to creating his work merely out of a sense of duty. For Ruskin, much of modern architecture is carried out on the basis of what builders and patrons think is correct instead of what gives them pleasure and satisfaction, and Ruskin equates this with hypocrisy.

“So, then, these are the two virtues of building: first the signs of man’s own good work; secondly, the expression of man’s delight in better work than his own.”

Building on Quote # 3, Ruskin combines the principle of good craftsmanship with the theological principle of Architecture as Reflecting Nature and Creation. He insists that architects must first build with honest craftsmanship, and then see to it that their work expresses their love of nature and God’s creation, implying humility and submission to a higher power. Ruskin goes on to say that the book will seek to inculcate a sense of good judgment based on these principles.

“Half the evil in this world comes from people not knowing what they do like;—not deliberately setting themselves to find out what they really enjoy.”

Ruskin implies that discovering one’s taste is an important preliminary step to creating architecture. One should seek out what one likes in architectural style, regardless of what authority or common opinion dictate. This will result in a more authentic and “honest” form of architecture, one free from prejudice. At the same time, Ruskin hopes to steer the reader in certain aesthetic directions which he believes to be best—i.e., to form the reader’s taste.

“Remember that the most beautiful things in the world are the most useless; peacocks and lilies for instance.”

Typical of Romantic aesthetics, Ruskin emphasizes beauty as a thing to be appreciated purely for its own sake, independent of any practical usefulness the beautiful thing may have. This forms an important basis for his discussions later in the book of the beauty of ornament, based on flowers and other forms of nature. It also parallels his earlier division of the virtues of architecture into practicality and beauty.

“I shall endeavor so to lead the reader forward from the foundation upwards, as that he may find out for himself the best way of doing everything, and having so discovered it, never forget it.”

Ruskin uses an architectural metaphor to express what he will try to accomplish in his book about architecture. He will put the reader in the place of an architect and lead them through the process of creating a building by teaching them the principles behind the art. This focus on the reader helps give the book a user-friendly and do-it-yourself tone, as opposed to the tone of an impersonal treatise or lecture.

“[W]e are going to be happy: to look round in the world and discover (in a serious manner always however, and under a sense of responsibility) what we like best in it, and to enjoy the same at our leisure: to gather it, examine it, fasten all we can of it into imperishable forms, and put it where we may see it for ever.”

Ruskin announces his intention for the chapters on ornament: to help the reader draw upon the sights and forms of nature in order to put together a repertoire of architectural forms and motifs. The quote stresses the pleasure principle and the “permanent” quality of architecture as an art, while also referring to the do-it-yourself concept established in Book 1.

“And all noble ornament is […] the expression of man’s delight in God’s work.”

Echoing again the theological basis of his aesthetics and Architecture as Reflecting Nature and Creation, Ruskin declares that art—in this case, architectural ornament—should reflect humanity’s delight in creation and the natural world ("God's work"). Thus, such ornament should take nature as its inspiration, especially such objects as flowers, plants, and foliage.

“A single leaf laid upon the angle of a stone, or the mere form or framework of the leaf drawn upon it, or the mere shadow and ghost of the leaf […] possesses a charm which nothing else can replace; a charm not exciting, nor demanding laborious thought or sympathy, but perfectly simple, peaceful, and satisfying.”

Ruskin deems foliage and vegetation to be some of the best sources of inspiration for ornamental motifs, in part because those natural objects are inherently meant to be chosen and gathered, i.e., abstracted. In addition, leaves have natural lines and curves that are graceful and intricate, lending themselves to sculptural decoration.

“The especial condition of true ornament is, that it be beautiful in its place, and nowhere else, and that it aid the effect of every portion of the building over which it has influence; that it does not, by its richness, make other parts bald, or by its delicacy, make other parts coarse.”

Ruskin stresses fittingness, proportion, and balance as essential principles of architectural aesthetics. The purpose of decoration is to enhance, not detract or distract from, the building and its other components.

“Whatever has nothing to do, whatever could go without being missed, is not ornament; it is deformity and encumbrance. Away with it.”

Building on the previous quote, Ruskin implies an aesthetic in which every element is essential and meaningful. For him, there is no place for elements that are superfluous or do not play a part (whether practical or aesthetic) in the effect and functioning of the whole building.

“And now come with me, for I have kept you too long from your gondola: come with me, on an autumnal morning, through the dark gates of Padua, and let us take the broad road leading towards the East.”

This sentence begins a long poetic passage by means of which Ruskin leads into the “travelogue” section of the book (Book 2). Whereas before he has treated the reader as an “architecture student,” now he treats them like a traveling companion whom he is guiding on a journey to Venice, ready to begin his analysis of the city.

“The impotent feelings of romance, so singularly characteristic of this century, may indeed gild, but never save, the remains of those mightier ages to which they are attached like climbing flowers; and they must be torn away from the magnificent fragments, if we would see them as they stood in their own strength.”

Ruskin here points to the feelings of historical nostalgia typical of 19th-century Romanticism, in which many artists felt estranged from the Industrial Age and wished to escape into an idealized past (See: Background). Ruskin, however, cautions against looking at Venice through rose-colored glasses and insists we see it in its true historical context, which he believes is admirable and noble in its own right.

“The Venice of modern fiction and drama is a thing of yesterday, a mere efflorescence of decay, a stage dream which the first ray of daylight must dissipate into dust.”

In this passage, Ruskin emphasizes that the romanticized vision of Venice represents the city as it was in the past, not as it is today—and in some cases as it never was. Industrialization (as seen in the railroad recently built to the city) and political turmoil have changed the face of Venice in modern times. Further, the mystique of Venice has endowed it with myths that are not based in fact. Although he celebrates Romantic aesthetics, Ruskin here puts his analysis of Venice on a solidly realistic basis.

“So far am I from considering them barbarous, that I believe of all works of religious art whatsoever, these, and such as these, have been the most effective.”

One of the major goals of the book is to reverse the received wisdom about the Middle Ages, thereby Revising the Standard Narrative of Art History. Here Ruskin defends supposedly naïve medieval mosaics of biblical scenes as representing effective means of instructing the people in religion through splendid images—which, for the religious Ruskin, represents a very fitting aim for art.

“Only do not let us suppose that love of order is love of art.”

In his aesthetics, Ruskin argues that the symmetry and regularity valued by classical art is less important than enjoyment and imagination. Although order is a necessary foundation for art, it is not to be valued for its own sake and above other values. This again relates to Ruskin’s preference for medieval over classical and Renaissance art, with Ruskin Revising the Standard Narrative of Art History through his critiques.

“The idea of reading a building as we would read Milton or Dante, and getting the same kind of delight out of the stones as out of the stanzas, never enters our mind for a moment.”

Ruskin tries to get readers to go beyond the modern “sense of propriety” about architecture—an attitude concerned with correctness and embodied in neoclassical norms—and to instead learn to see the poetry and imagination which architecture at its best can embody. He describes this as a process of “reading” architecture much as we read a poem.

“[W]e may, without offending any laws of good taste, require of an architect, as we do of a novelist, that he should be not only correct, but entertaining.”

Building on the two previous quotes, Ruskin once more emphasizes the importance of imagination, originality, and invention in architecture beyond a merely correct fulfillment of artistic rules, norms, and expectations—in other words, a Gothic as opposed to a neoclassical approach.

“Nothing is a great work of art, for the production of which either rules or models can be given.”

Here again, Ruskin declares his conviction that invention, imagination, and personal conviction are more important in architecture than a mastery of established rules. This relates to the Romantic and the Gothic aesthetics, both of which prized those qualities over the imitation of a perfected technique.

“Let us then understand at once that change or variety is as much a necessity to the human heart and brain in buildings as in books.”

Rounding out this group of quotes, Ruskin identifies variety as one of the key attributes of the Gothic, as opposed to the neoclassical, style. Gothic architects liked putting surprising and unpredictable details in their buildings, and Ruskin sees this as related to a real human need for difference, change, and variety. Thus, Ruskin poses Gothic as a style that serves human needs better than the neoclassical, once more Revising the Standard Narrative of Art History.

“For in one point of view Gothic is not only the best, but the only rational architecture, as being that which can fit itself most easily to all services, vulgar or noble.”

Here Ruskin states one of his reasons for promoting Gothic architecture in preference to other styles: His enthusiasm for the Gothic style’s sense of variety and honest realism and its ability to adapt itself to different contexts, whether sacred or secular. As it turned out, the Gothic style was indeed revived for many different types of buildings in Victorian England, from churches and colleges to train stations and restaurants (See: Background).

“That hammer stroke was the first act of the period properly called the ‘Renaissance.’ It was the knell of the architecture of Venice,—and of Venice herself.”

The “hammer stroke” in this passage refers to the rebuilding of the Council Chamber of the Ducal Palace in the 15th century after it was damaged in a fire. The quote dramatizes the onset of the Renaissance, which for Ruskin signaled the artistic, social, and moral decline of Venice. For Ruskin, the new Renaissance-style chamber did not equal the former Byzantine and Gothic structure and represents a decline in artistic style, which in turn reflects a change in moral outlook that speaks to the links between Art and Society’s Moral Health.