Architecture ought to be more the subject of rule in proportion than any other fine art. Its lines are all geometrical. Its constructions conform to geometric and mechani cal laws of the most truly scientific character. But when we come to its effects on the eye we find that, as in nature, each construction is a rule unto itself. The Greek temples that men accepted as unique perfections in architecture an hundred years ago, and sought to crown with the attribute of perfect proportions, are perfect, as every well grown tree of its species is perfect, without proving that every other species of tree has not equally perfect specimens of widely different proportions. The Gothic architecture, about which fanciful and absurd theories have been advanced as to its being suggested by the interweaving branches of avenues of trees whose trunks were the columns and their branches the ribs that formed the models, in reality grew by tne core, monest clumsy processes of elimination by mechanics of the weaker and more expen sive Roman arch by the arch suggested by the crossing of two circles. The novelty alone of the new form would give it an active growth. Its strength and capabilities were discovered afterward, and the beauties of proportion found in the great works of its perfecting era are utterly discordant in their variety. Compare, for instance, the façade of Westminster abbey and Notre Dame of Paris. Both main façades have towers on a similar plan. But the latter is noble to a degree that is wanting in the former. Both are good Gothic Both are pleasing. The Notre Dame facade has level lines crossing its front with a boldness that is peculiar to it. In theory they might have spoiled the unity of the style: in fact, they add to its expression. But to such great works, there ought, we may suppose, to be some definite law of proportion between the parts—between the length, the breadth, and the height; between the towers and spires and the main body. But we find cathedrals where the church part is sub sidiary to the towers—hid behind the facade as in the cathedrals of Ulm and Amiens, in France, and the effect is superb; we would not have them differently proportioned.
Again, the towers are subsidiary, till the mass loses boldness of expression. But who can define where change in proportion shall cease to vary? The new parliament house in England is a remarkable example of bold and lofty towers breaking up from long level palace lines. By what rule could the student for "a law of proportion" govern the relation of these parts? Frequently, the wider the divergence from some supposed law of harmonious proportion, the more pleasing the result. This does not prove that there can be no law of proportion, but only that the law is an endless book, the pref. .ace to which is made by the experiments of the past, and the body of the volume yet to be made by experimenting and comparing effects, to the end of time, to develop all the laws of proportion that the universe illustrates.
The words Symmetry and proportion arc often used as interchangeable terms. A difference in /esthetics is this: that while symmetry suggests the balance of similar parts, good proportion alone may not be violated by the association of parts not similar. A building, for instance, may have a center with two wings balancing each other as to size and form, so that the whole is a well-proportioned edifice. BuOill one of the wings have Gothic windows, the other Roman, and the center Greek, it would certainly be an unsymmetrical building. The absence of proportion and symmetry often produces picturesqueness—as of a tree bent and growing to one side; but the three qualities may all be united in one object, as in a tree with very bold irregularity of branches and outline, vet as a whole well balanced on its trunk, and symmetric because of the general simi of its growth on all sides. The parliament houses in London furnish an archi tectural example wanting in the United States of the union of proportion, symmetry, and picturesqueness.