BOOK FIFTH.
CHAPTER 2. THIS WILL KILL THAT.
(continued)
Thought was then free only in this manner; hence it never
wrote itself out completely except on the books called edifices.
Thought, under the form of edifice, could have beheld itself
burned in the public square by the hands of the executioner,
in its manuscript form, if it had been sufficiently imprudent
to risk itself thus; thought, as the door of a church, would
have been a spectator of the punishment of thought as
a book. Having thus only this resource, masonry, in order to
make its way to the light, flung itself upon it from all quarters.
Hence the immense quantity of cathedrals which have
covered Europe--a number so prodigious that one can hardly
believe it even after having verified it. All the material
forces, all the intellectual forces of society converged towards
the same point: architecture. In this manner, under the pretext
of building churches to God, art was developed in its
magnificent proportions.
Then whoever was born a poet became an architect.
Genius, scattered in the masses, repressed in every quarter
under feudalism as under a testudo of brazen bucklers, finding
no issue except in the direction of architecture,--gushed
forth through that art, and its Iliads assumed the form of
cathedrals. All other arts obeyed, and placed themselves under
the discipline of architecture. They were the workmen of the
great work. The architect, the poet, the master, summed up
in his person the sculpture which carved his façades, painting
which illuminated his windows, music which set his bells to
pealing, and breathed into his organs. There was nothing
down to poor poetry,--properly speaking, that which
persisted in vegetating in manuscripts,--which was not forced,
in order to make something of itself, to come and frame itself
in the edifice in the shape of a hymn or of prose; the same
part, after all, which the tragedies of AEschylus had played
in the sacerdotal festivals of Greece; Genesis, in the temple
of Solomon.
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