UTILITY IN ARCHITECTURE. 203 



gotten that it arose from the necessity of man for shelter, and 

 view it as a product of the study or of "the studio in which beauty 

 and sesthetic effects are the only ends sought, while utility, con- 

 venience, expression of intention, have all become secondary con- 

 siderations. Nothing could "be more erroneous, nothing more 

 fatal to the production of sound architecture. 



Architecture is not the product of the imagination, but the 

 result of experience and foresight. The painter in his studio, or 

 the sculptor in his, has nothing to dictate to his thoughts or 

 force them into certain channels. His fancy is free, and he allows 

 it to carry him where it will. The architect, on the other hand, 

 is limited by innumerable requirements and difficulties, all of 

 which are real and physical, and all of which must be overcome 

 before his work can be a success. His creations are not intended 

 for the decoration of a gallery or to be preserved under glass, 

 but they must stand the test of time and of climate, must bear a 

 relation to the manners and customs of the day. He must exer- 

 cise care and discrimination in the selection of his materials. 

 He must count their cost and be fully acquainted with their phys- 

 ical properties. There is, in fact, no end to the details he must 

 consider, in all of which there is no place or opportunity for the 

 exercise of the imagination. His art is the product of natural 

 conditions, and may be not inappropriately compared to a plant 

 which, through the action of certain external elements or forces, 

 finally assumes a character that can be directly traced to the en- 

 vironment, and which is, in fact, directly dependent on it. 



These views are not those popularly held on the subject, but 

 it is impossible to make an intelligent study of the history of 

 the art without reaching them, if, indeed, they had not been 

 already indicated by common sense. Of all the arts, architecture 

 calls, for the greatest exercise of thought ; yet, strangely enough, 

 this is the very element that is most wanting in it at the present 

 day. All successful buildings must express an idea ; they must 

 mean something. The architecture of previous times rests on 

 this basis, and those structures which give the most evidence 

 of the fact are the most successful. Even in the distorted view 

 of our day those buildings which depart from this position are 

 the most condemned. Yet the very people who censure such 

 lack of judgment by their ancestors do not hesitate to follow 

 in their footsteps and produce architectural monstrosities that 

 should never have been conceived in an intelligent age. The 

 very rudest of African savages is fully aware of this important 

 fact, and keeps it well in mind in building such structures 

 as the simple needs of his life and his primitive ideas require. 

 Thus, for example, he will build a very different edifice for a 

 granary than he will to live in. It has been reserved for the 



