ich flank the entrance to
Egyptian temples; the great bronze Buddha of Japan, with its dreaming
eyes; the little known colossal figures of India and China--all these
belong scarcely less to the domain of architecture than of sculpture.
The relation above referred to however is a matter more subtle and
occult than mere obvious imitation on a large scale, being based upon
some correspondence of parts, or similarity of proportions, or both.
The correspondence between the innermost sanctuary or shrine of a
temple and the heart of a man, and between the gates of that temple
and the organs of sense is sufficiently obvious, and a relation once
established, the idea is susceptible of almost infinite development.
That the ancients proportioned their temples from the human figure
is no new idea, nor is it at all surprising. The sculpture of the
Egyptians and the Greeks reveals the fact that they studied the body
abstractly, in its exterior presentment. It is clear that the rules
of its proportions must have been established for sculpture, and it is
not unreasonable to suppose that they became canonical in architecture
also. Vitruvius and Alberti both lay stress on the fact that all
sacred buildings should be founded on the proportions of the human
body.

[Illustration 43: A GOTHIC CATHEDRAL THE SYMBOL OF THE BODY OF JESUS
CHRIST]

[Illustration 44: THE SYMBOLISM OF A GOTHIC CATHEDRAL FROM THE
ROSICRUCIANS: HARGRAVE JENNINGS]

In France, during the Middle Ages, a Gothic cathedral became, at the
hands of the secret masonic guilds, a glorified symbol of the body
of Christ. To practical-minded students of architectural history,
familiar with the slow and halting evolution of a Gothic cathedral
from a Roman basilica, such an idea may seem to be only the
maunderings of a mystical imagination, a theory evolved from the inner
consciousness, entitled to no more consideration than the familiar
fallacy that vaulted nave of a Gothic church was an attempt to imitate
the green aisles of a forest. It should be remembered however that the
habit of the thought of that time was mystical, as that of our own age
is utilitarian and scientific; and the chosen language of mysticism is
always an elaborate and involved symbolism. What could be more natural
than that a building devoted to the worship of a crucified Savior
should be made a symbol, not of the cross only, but of the body
crucified?

[Illustration 45: THE GEOMETRICAL BASIS OF THE HUMAN