What do you think?
Rate this book
Architecture Mysticism and Myth
Architecture is more than the geometry of space. It is also a product of the myths and archetypes of the culture which produced it. In this long out-of-print classic William Lethaby traces the history of ideas that found material expression in the great architectural masterpieces of the world- the soaring spires of St. Paul's Ca thedral the glowing domes of the Taj Mahal and the sumptuous ornament of the Palace of Versailles.
224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1892
28 people are currently reading
233 people want to read
About the author
William Richard Lethaby
51 books9 followersWilliam Richard Lethaby was an English architect and architectural historian whose ideas were highly influential on the late Arts and Crafts and early Modern movements in architecture, and in the fields of conservation and art education.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
April 13, 2021
This book was written such a long time ago that it is tempting to forgive it all its quirks. In his preface, Lethaby says his aim is to, “set out, from an architect’s point of view, the basis of certain ideas common in the architecture of many lands and religions, the purposes behind structure and form which may be called the esoteric principles of architecture.” If the title alone did not hint enough, he quickly informs you that the writing is going to be of an esoteric and mystical nature.
For Lethaby “the human mind works in fixed grooves” and every style echoes those that went before, just as the railways copy the terminology of the stage-coaches and steamships relate to sailing vessels so too modern monuments reflect the mythology of the past and its ancient, sacred architecture.
Much of the book is a collation of the writings of others, comparing and contrasting similar origin stories. For example, he outlines several primitive stories which relate the universe to a tree, similar to the tallest, over-arching canopies near their homes. Or how many cultures from east to west saw the earth as square and the heavens as round. As he notes in the chapter on this repeated pattern; “This four squareness was a talismanic assurance of permanence and stability. The thought that, as the heavens were stable upon the earth, so any building four square with them would be immovable, seems, as we have seen, a natural analogy.” In a much later chapter he refers to the magic of numbers, and in a section of Japanese culture notes another reviewer’s insight: 'Man receives his human form from heaven and earth, and therefore he resembles heaven as to his head, which is round, and earth to his feet, which are square.'
Lethaby will quote Champollion regarding the Egyptian idea of heaven as house, then South American researchers who refer to ‘as above so below’ thinking which converts the earth into the ground floor with the heavens in the upper levels of a big house, as well as other unseen inhabitants who live in a cellar below. From here he references to Hindu, ancient Greek, Babylonian and Arabic cultures to compare their square versus hemispherical concepts for the universe, and explanations of how an empty egg shell or hollowed skull could be seen to equate to the dome of the heavens. Everything from Chinese coins (round with a square cut out), to a Buddhist stupa, begins to show signs of circles and squares, heaven and earth, here, there, and everywhere.
Whilst it all seems rather obvious now, it was probably quite an eye-opener a hundred years ago to realise the interconnectivity between so many disparate cultures and locations. There is something strangely reassuring about the longevity and homogeneity of ideas in architecture, a ‘talismanic assurance’ as Lethaby says that seems to transcend time and place. The rapid movement, leaping hundreds of years and half way round the world and back again, could have been jarring read, and sometimes it really is, but generally, it’s handled fairly smoothly.
In the middle of so many disparate, but fairly predictable examples, it came as something of a shock to come across a couple of lines referencing Australian myths. Australians on the Gold Coast, he notes, believed “that a very powerful wizard lives far inland; and the negroes held that to this warlock the spirits of the dead went to be judged according to the merit of their actions.” The example demonstrates two weaknesses of Lethaby’s book; one is that it is a very out of date writing style which can be jarring at times, and the other is that he has a habit of raising whole cultures or eras in a sentence, then moving right along. That all of Australia, such a large and ancient continent, gets this one reference feels like a short-change. Similarly, it feels remiss of him when he only occasionally throws in modern-day derivatives of ancient architecture, such as how doors were often inscribed with iconography and talismans, and you often had to avoid touching them or get bad luck, led to the custom of carrying a bride over the threshold.
Generally however, I enjoyed his writing style, even though at times it felt more like a church sermon or a fairytale rather than an academic tome. For example; “The byzantine scheme preserved more of the original thought: Christ was enthroned at the zenith of the central zone, then zone below zone, were the heavenly powers, the saints, and all nature, one great chorus of praise.” Or, in reference to labyrinths; “There are no false paths, not a single cul-de-sac, but simply the longest involved path, from the entrance to the eye; you follow far enough, and necessarily reach the centre. When the root of tradition was broken away from at the Renaissance, all this was altered, and mazes became inventions, every one different from the others – spiders’ web of enticing false paths.”
Often Lethaby goes into painstaking analytical-overkill, such as his review of Job 37:18 in which the translation of a single Hebrew word ‘rakia’ (vs raka) can change the meaning of a sentence. Rakia he notes, means firmament, but raka has more to do with beating metal, so the bible statement becomes: ‘Hast thou spread (rather than hammered) out the sky, which is strong, and as a molten looking glass?’ I understand that whole conspiracy theories have been crafted on a biblical mis-translation, but it remains unclear how these sorts of translational issues, interesting though they are, could help an architect understand past, present or future designs.
Lastly, there was a small note three-quarters of the way through the book, buried in a chapter about sun gates which notes that there is a possibility that ancient systems are observed through modern interpretations and as such, we read too much into the old designs. I’m not sure if I’m reading it correctly, but I think he suggests we read too much into the symbolism, not because we are too far removed from the truth in time, but because we are smarter than the ancients and are assuming too much of them, and instead of reading their real intentions we are interpreting their unconscious developments of thought. Given the age of the writing it is possible that this is the patronising approach. Regardless, it does raise an interesting point for the entire book – to what extent are Lethaby’s historical interpretations a montage of modern thoughts rather than truly historical facts given so much of distant history is buried in the clouds of sand and time? Lethaby himself notes that ancient religions suspended eggs in churches because it was a form of creation, but acknowledges that the Copts themselves gave it the meaning of ‘watchfulness’ (as ostriches were particularly broody), and also notes that the large eggs suspended over the oil-lamps were practical as well, preventing rats from scaling down the cables to drink the lamp oil. Creation, watchfulness, protection against rats. All three meanings, literal and figurative, practical and symbolic, are therefore possible, and indeed probable. It’s a simple demonstration not of the naiveté of the ancients, but of our willingness to ascribe mystical meanings to what may well have been practical solutions, or at the very least, actions which were simultaneously both fantastical and functional.
The book ends, not with advice to architects but with a quote about Aladdin talking to the genie. After the genie has made a palace for Aladdin, his princess-wife complains that there is no roc’s egg suspended from the centre of the dome. Aladdin calls the genie to complain, and the genie goes into a frenzy and screams loud enough to shake the room. The last words of the book are the genie’s lament at Aladdin’s ingratitude, “For this crime though dost deserve to be instantly torn to atoms, and thy wife and palace should perish with thee. But thou art fortunate that the request did not originate with thee, and that the command is not in any way thine. THE END.” How frustrating that we do not find out if the nagging wife is torn to atoms, or Aladdin is punished in some other way for his greed-by-association, or if the genie finishes his venting and magics-up a decorative egg in yet-one-more wish fulfilment. Perhaps, typing this now, Lethaby did in fact finish with advice to architects; there can always be more and more and more, but at some point we need to tell our clients ‘enough’ and similarly, tell ourselves to be content with what we have done, and what we have.
Overall, a gentle read, a rich reminder of childhood myths and legends, and a confirmation that the ancient tales separated by time and space still seem to keep circling back and around some repetitive core narrative-truths.
For Lethaby “the human mind works in fixed grooves” and every style echoes those that went before, just as the railways copy the terminology of the stage-coaches and steamships relate to sailing vessels so too modern monuments reflect the mythology of the past and its ancient, sacred architecture.
Much of the book is a collation of the writings of others, comparing and contrasting similar origin stories. For example, he outlines several primitive stories which relate the universe to a tree, similar to the tallest, over-arching canopies near their homes. Or how many cultures from east to west saw the earth as square and the heavens as round. As he notes in the chapter on this repeated pattern; “This four squareness was a talismanic assurance of permanence and stability. The thought that, as the heavens were stable upon the earth, so any building four square with them would be immovable, seems, as we have seen, a natural analogy.” In a much later chapter he refers to the magic of numbers, and in a section of Japanese culture notes another reviewer’s insight: 'Man receives his human form from heaven and earth, and therefore he resembles heaven as to his head, which is round, and earth to his feet, which are square.'
Lethaby will quote Champollion regarding the Egyptian idea of heaven as house, then South American researchers who refer to ‘as above so below’ thinking which converts the earth into the ground floor with the heavens in the upper levels of a big house, as well as other unseen inhabitants who live in a cellar below. From here he references to Hindu, ancient Greek, Babylonian and Arabic cultures to compare their square versus hemispherical concepts for the universe, and explanations of how an empty egg shell or hollowed skull could be seen to equate to the dome of the heavens. Everything from Chinese coins (round with a square cut out), to a Buddhist stupa, begins to show signs of circles and squares, heaven and earth, here, there, and everywhere.
Whilst it all seems rather obvious now, it was probably quite an eye-opener a hundred years ago to realise the interconnectivity between so many disparate cultures and locations. There is something strangely reassuring about the longevity and homogeneity of ideas in architecture, a ‘talismanic assurance’ as Lethaby says that seems to transcend time and place. The rapid movement, leaping hundreds of years and half way round the world and back again, could have been jarring read, and sometimes it really is, but generally, it’s handled fairly smoothly.
In the middle of so many disparate, but fairly predictable examples, it came as something of a shock to come across a couple of lines referencing Australian myths. Australians on the Gold Coast, he notes, believed “that a very powerful wizard lives far inland; and the negroes held that to this warlock the spirits of the dead went to be judged according to the merit of their actions.” The example demonstrates two weaknesses of Lethaby’s book; one is that it is a very out of date writing style which can be jarring at times, and the other is that he has a habit of raising whole cultures or eras in a sentence, then moving right along. That all of Australia, such a large and ancient continent, gets this one reference feels like a short-change. Similarly, it feels remiss of him when he only occasionally throws in modern-day derivatives of ancient architecture, such as how doors were often inscribed with iconography and talismans, and you often had to avoid touching them or get bad luck, led to the custom of carrying a bride over the threshold.
Generally however, I enjoyed his writing style, even though at times it felt more like a church sermon or a fairytale rather than an academic tome. For example; “The byzantine scheme preserved more of the original thought: Christ was enthroned at the zenith of the central zone, then zone below zone, were the heavenly powers, the saints, and all nature, one great chorus of praise.” Or, in reference to labyrinths; “There are no false paths, not a single cul-de-sac, but simply the longest involved path, from the entrance to the eye; you follow far enough, and necessarily reach the centre. When the root of tradition was broken away from at the Renaissance, all this was altered, and mazes became inventions, every one different from the others – spiders’ web of enticing false paths.”
Often Lethaby goes into painstaking analytical-overkill, such as his review of Job 37:18 in which the translation of a single Hebrew word ‘rakia’ (vs raka) can change the meaning of a sentence. Rakia he notes, means firmament, but raka has more to do with beating metal, so the bible statement becomes: ‘Hast thou spread (rather than hammered) out the sky, which is strong, and as a molten looking glass?’ I understand that whole conspiracy theories have been crafted on a biblical mis-translation, but it remains unclear how these sorts of translational issues, interesting though they are, could help an architect understand past, present or future designs.
Lastly, there was a small note three-quarters of the way through the book, buried in a chapter about sun gates which notes that there is a possibility that ancient systems are observed through modern interpretations and as such, we read too much into the old designs. I’m not sure if I’m reading it correctly, but I think he suggests we read too much into the symbolism, not because we are too far removed from the truth in time, but because we are smarter than the ancients and are assuming too much of them, and instead of reading their real intentions we are interpreting their unconscious developments of thought. Given the age of the writing it is possible that this is the patronising approach. Regardless, it does raise an interesting point for the entire book – to what extent are Lethaby’s historical interpretations a montage of modern thoughts rather than truly historical facts given so much of distant history is buried in the clouds of sand and time? Lethaby himself notes that ancient religions suspended eggs in churches because it was a form of creation, but acknowledges that the Copts themselves gave it the meaning of ‘watchfulness’ (as ostriches were particularly broody), and also notes that the large eggs suspended over the oil-lamps were practical as well, preventing rats from scaling down the cables to drink the lamp oil. Creation, watchfulness, protection against rats. All three meanings, literal and figurative, practical and symbolic, are therefore possible, and indeed probable. It’s a simple demonstration not of the naiveté of the ancients, but of our willingness to ascribe mystical meanings to what may well have been practical solutions, or at the very least, actions which were simultaneously both fantastical and functional.
The book ends, not with advice to architects but with a quote about Aladdin talking to the genie. After the genie has made a palace for Aladdin, his princess-wife complains that there is no roc’s egg suspended from the centre of the dome. Aladdin calls the genie to complain, and the genie goes into a frenzy and screams loud enough to shake the room. The last words of the book are the genie’s lament at Aladdin’s ingratitude, “For this crime though dost deserve to be instantly torn to atoms, and thy wife and palace should perish with thee. But thou art fortunate that the request did not originate with thee, and that the command is not in any way thine. THE END.” How frustrating that we do not find out if the nagging wife is torn to atoms, or Aladdin is punished in some other way for his greed-by-association, or if the genie finishes his venting and magics-up a decorative egg in yet-one-more wish fulfilment. Perhaps, typing this now, Lethaby did in fact finish with advice to architects; there can always be more and more and more, but at some point we need to tell our clients ‘enough’ and similarly, tell ourselves to be content with what we have done, and what we have.
Overall, a gentle read, a rich reminder of childhood myths and legends, and a confirmation that the ancient tales separated by time and space still seem to keep circling back and around some repetitive core narrative-truths.
January 7, 2016
كتاب يشرح أسرار العمارة قديما وعلاقتها بالأديان والمعتقدات لدى الشعوب على سبيل المثال رمز البيضة والدائرة .. بالنسبة لي كان ممتع
June 6, 2014
While Lethaby puts forward some interesting ideas which seem to ring true, his writing can be dense and he uses many, many examples. Sometimes too many. His argument certainly contains contemplative truths but did my have to be so long winded
October 14, 2014
Est doloribus ut dolorem magni ipsum veritatis ut. Ea non qui accusamus quaerat beatae reiciendis praesentium. Aut aliquid provident totam asperiores aut. Cumque odit nihil qui ratione eos. Et corrupti error.
April 2, 2016
Convoluted book. Could be clear and interesting but the author jumps all over the place. Some interesting points if you can slog through. Requires a lot of prerequisite knowledge.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews