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Wolfgang Herrmann, The Theory of Claude Perrault (Studies in Architecture,
Vol. XII),
London: A. Zwemmer Ltd.,
1973, 226 pp. 39 pis. £10.
We should be grateful to Wolfgang Herrmann who, in the words of Emil Kauffmann,
has shown again that "architectural treatises need not be dry and
dull. On the contrary, one may find pulsing excitement. ..."1
Herrmann's first major study, on the architectural theories of Laugier,
appeared in 1962 and remains one of the few reliable guides to architectural
thinking in the eighteenth century. The Theory of Claude Perrault deals
with the theoretical debate on architecture in seventeenth-century France
and Perrault's role in it. As with the Laugier book, Herrmann studies
a theoretician of architecture, and in so doing, focuses on the major
role of theory in the development of architectural production.
Several aspects of Laugier's and Perrault's careers lend themselves to
comparison. Neither was a great stylistic innovator. Perhaps this is why
they were overlooked for so long by architectural historians. Neither
was an architect by profession. Laugier was a Jesuit priest, and the fact
that Perrault was a physician spurred several of his contemporaries to
indulge in "de mauvaises plaisanteries ... disant que l'architecture
doit etre bien malade, puisqu'on la mettoit entre les mains des médecins."2
But this is where the similarities end. Perrault's involvement with architecture
was of a different scale than Laugier's. Laugier never built; Perrault
did. Moreover, al- though for a while the abbé was a member of
the court entourage and his writings ex- pressed the aspirations of the
mid-eighteenth-century bourgeois, he never entered into direct collaboration
with those in power. The opposite is true of Perrault, who, in practically
all of his capacities, was directly accountable to Colbert and Louis XIV.
In spite of these differences, Herffi1ann applies the same presentation
technique to Claude Perrault as he did to Laugier. The Perrault book opens
with a well-researched biography of the theoretician, followed by an exposition
of his ideas on proportion and beauty, optical adjustments, and, finally,
the orders. The last section of the book is de- voted to the fate of the
theories after their author's death. This foffi1at lends itself less congenially
to the study of Perrault than to Laugier. With Perrault, the connection
among writing, building, and politics was very strong and highly complex.
A more comprehensive view of the seventeenth century is needed to reveal
the full meaning of his contribution.
Herffi1ann has successfully mapped the rich network of philosophical and
psycho- logical theories within which Perrault's thinking evolved. Yet
he presents Perrault's writings as detached and disassociated from his
other involvements, such as his commission to translate Vitruvius, to
build the Observatory of Paris, and to design the eastern façade
of the Louvre. Nor is the nature of his relationship to the Royal Academy
of Architecture clarified.
All of Perrault's professional activities were united by a common thread,
however deliberately obscured even by Perrault himself. The unifying principle
in his work was his adherence to the policies of the court. Whether as
a writer, translator, architect, or academician, Claude Perrault, at the
side of his brother Charles, filled the role of a civil servant, taking
orders from the King and Colbert. Perrault's undertakings were thus a
direct result of royal architectural policy, namely, the overall plan
to ensure the supremacy of the French monarchy.
Colbert saw that in order to implement this plan, the national economy
needed re- organization; the traditional medieval administrative system
had to be broken up, foreign dependencies overcome, and production made
more efficient. Furtheffi1ore, he understood that for a program of this
type to succeed, new theories had to be advanced. He set this policy in
motion in many sectors of production, and the production of buildings
was no exception.3 What Colbert expected from the theoreticians was the
creation of new norms, norms founded "scientifically," and capable
of being translated into standards for production.4
Perrault's major achievement as a theoretician in the service of Colbert
was his refutation of the presuppositions on which architectural thinking
had rested until that time, backed by divine ordinance and the authority
of the Ancients. It was also a rebuttal of the claim that architectural
norms were "positive," derived from nature and invariant. He
proved that they were in fact "arbitrary,"5 that their origin
was social, and that they were a function of their time. Like the manners
of the court, he explained, architectural forms derive their capacity
to arouse plea- sure and esteem not from properties intrinsic to them,
but from an association made in the mind of the beholder between them
and an extraneous admired quality-such as power, for example. The implication
was that any change in the norms of architecture would still produce pleasure
and esteem, as long as it was produced by the decision of a person in
power. To support his assertions, Perrault employed empirical observation
instead of the opinion of authorities. Essential to his proof were the
measurements taken by Desgodetz in Rome, clearly indicating the disparity
in the proportions of the great monuments themselves.
It is clear that Perrault had in mind not only the destruction of the
traditional norms still dominating the design process, but also the archaic
modes of thought employed in the identification of norms. His reasoning
and preoccupation with observable facts was shared by Colbert and by the
bourgeois who viewed it as an important vehicle for pursuing utilitarian
ends. An interesting conflict between this new way of thinking and the
old respect for established authority appears in a passage of Colbert's
Memoires, relating Bernini's work on the plans for the Louvre. Bernini
believed that his inspirations were divine in origin and that his designs
sprang from God. Naturally, the way he looked upon his design for the
Louvre gates was consistent with this view. To this renowned artist at
the pinnacle of his career, Colbert provokingly suggested getting up early
in the morning in order to determine the size of the gates from the number
of carriages passing through.
The timing of the commissioning of Perrault to translate Vitruvius, the
expedition of Desgodetz to Rome, the public humiliation of Bernini, and
the subsequent transfer of the Louvre design to Perrault, the publication
of the Ordonnance, the attacks of Colbert on the guilds are too consistent
to be considered accidental. Invalidating old norms of design and abrogating
archaic methodology freed the French from their dependence on Italy.
It also accelerated the reorganization of workshops according to rational
utilitarian principles. And so it was that Perrault's theories freed French
architecture from the yoke of a constraining past, only to submit it to
the rule of Louis XIV.
Perrault's position and argumentation were novel in architectural thinking.
He was the first to introduce the distinction of positive versus arbitrary
beauty to architecture, and the first architectural theoretician to rely
on inductive reasoning, allowing for empirical verification.
Herrmann qualifies Perrault's conclusion about the arbitrariness of architectural
beauties as a logical paradox. The real paradox of Perrault, however,
is that in order to establish this arbitrariness-in other words, the incompatability
of architecture with scientific method- he employed the most sophisticated
scientific type of analysis of his time.
Thus Herrmann's remarks to the effect that Perrault's major preoccupation
was science and not architecture prove incorrect, as do those claiming
that he was not a true architect in the eyes of Colbert. As concerns the
first point, Perrault's devotion to architecture is obvious in the Memoires
...sur ['Observatoire by Cassini (1679) (unfortunately not included in
Herrmann's book), which concludes that when the "positive" demands
of science were in conflict with the "arbitrary beauties" of
architecture, Perrault unabashedly sacrificed the former. As a result,
his design reflected more of a preoccupation with proportion and orders
than with the functioning of the building as an "instrument,"
to use the term of Cassini.
To conclude, these remarks do not suggest that the above points would
have made Herrmann's a better book. They would have made it different,
a book where the considerations of the social historian and of the historian
of ideology would have held sway over those of the historian of ideas
alone, and one which Herrmann may not have been interested in writing.
For a long time, most architectural history has remained aloof from the
history of ideas. The writings of Herrmann, including this most recent
book on Perrault, have greatly helped to draw them closer together. From
this point of view, he is following in the tradition of Rudolf Wittkower,
to whose memory the book is fittingly dedicated.
ALEXANDER TZONIS
Harvard University
LIANE LEFAIVRE
Cambridge, Massachusetts
1. Emil Kauffmann, "At an Eighteenth Century Crossroads: Algarotti
vs. Lodolo," ]SAH, IV (1944),23-29.
2. Charles Perrault, Memoires de 11ia Vie (Paris, ed. 1909), p. 86.
3. The complex interdependence among the policies of Colbert, the role
of the French intellectuals, the French state, and the different social
groups in France has been studied by several historians. It is developed
in some detail, as it relates specifically to the brothers Perrault in
a recent book: Marc Soriano, Lf! Dossier Charles Perrault
(Paris, 1972).
4. Colbert was explicit on this point. References abound in: J. P. Colbert,
Lettres, Instructions et Mémoires (Paris, ed. 1861-1882).
5. Claude Perrault, Ordonnance des Cinc Espèces de Colonnes (Paris,
1683). Herrmann is not only aware of these facts, but he has written about
them in a very detailed article: W. Herrmann, "Antoine Desgodetz
and the Academie Royale d' Architecture," The Art Bulletin, XL (1958),23-53.
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