race who care nothing for beauty, and who only want to have their
physical comfort provided for.

Architecture, then, from the point of view from which I am asking you to
regard it--and the only point of view in which it is worth the serious
regard of thoughtful people--is the art of erecting expressive and
beautiful buildings. I say expressive _and_ beautiful, and I put
expressive first, because it is the characteristic which we can at least
realize even when we cannot realize what can fairly be called beauty,
and it is the characteristic which comes first in the order of things. A
building may be expressive and thereby have interest, without rising
into beauty; but it can never be, architecturally speaking, beautiful
unless it has expression. And what do we mean by expression in a
building? That brings us to the very pith of the matter.

We know pretty well what we mean when we say that a painted or
sculptured figure is expressive. We mean that, while correctly
representing the structure of the human figure, it also conveys to our
minds a distinct idea of a special emotion or sentiment, such as human
beings are capable of feeling and expressing by looks and actions.
Expression in this sense a building cannot be said to have. It is
incapable of emotion, and it has no mobility of surface or feature. Yet
I think we shall see that it is capable of expression in more senses
than one. It may, in the first place, express or reflect the emotion of
those who designed it, or it may express the facts of its own internal
structure and arrangement. The former, however, can only, I think, be
said to be realized in the case of architecture of the highest class,
and when taken collectively as a typical style. For instance, we can all
pretty well agree that the mediæval cathedral expresses an emotion of
aspiration on the part of its builders. The age that built the