ic form into our domestic architecture, not
merely because it is lovely, but because it is the only form of faithful,
strong, enduring, and honourable building, in such materials as come
daily to our hands." [28] On the other hand, Roman architecture is
essentially base; the study of classical literature is "pestilent"; and
most modern building is the fruit of "the Renaissance poison tree."
"If . . . any of my readers should determine . . . to set themselves to
the revival of a healthy school of architecture in England, and wish to
know in few words how this may be done, the answer is clear and simple.
First, let us cast out utterly whatever is connected with the Greek,
Roman, or Renaissance architecture, in principle or in form. . . . The
whole mass of the architecture, founded on Greek and Roman models, which
we have been in the habit of building for the last three centuries, is
utterly devoid of all life, virtue, honourableness, or power of doing
good. It is base, unnatural, unfruitful, unenjoyable, and impious.
Pagan in its origin, proud and unholy in its revival, paralysed in its
old age." [29]

Ruskin loved the religious spirit of the mediaeval builders, Byzantine,
Lombard, or Gothic; and the pure and holy faith of the early sacred
painters like Fra Angelico, Orcagna, and Perugino. He thought that
whatever was greatest even in Raphael, Leonardo, and Michelangelo came
from their training in the old religious school, not from the new science
of the Renaissance. "Raphael painted best when he knew least." He
deplored the harm to Catholic and Protestant alike of the bitter
dissensions of the Reformation. But he sorrowfully acknowledged the
corruption of the ancient Church, and had no respect for modern Romanism.
Against the opinion that Gothic architecture was fitted exclusively for
ecclesiastical uses, he strongly protested. On the contrary, he advised
its reintroduction, especially in domestic building. "Most readers . . .
abandon themselves drowsily to the impression that Gothic is a peculiarly
ecclesiastical style. . . . The High Church and Romanist parties . . .
have willingly promulgated the theory that, because all the good
architecture that is now left is expressive of High Church or Romanist
doctrines, all good architecture ever has been and must be so--a piece of
absurdity. . . . Wherever Christian Church architecture has been good
and lovely, it has been merely the perfect development of the common